Front Cover
 How the Tories broke up "meeti...
 The scarlet tanager
 To a Katydid
 Our top brigade
 Seventh spinning-wheel story
 The brook's song
 A Fourth of July among Indians
 The flower girl
 The youngest soldier of the...
 A way to grow wise
 Marvin and his boy hunters
 Nabby Blackington
 The Egyptian bird-mouse
 Historic boys
 A stranger
 The giraffe excursion
 The Bartholdi statue
 Summer trials (pictures)
 For very little folk: The tale...
 The St. Nicholas almanac
 The caravan
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


xml version 1.0 encoding UTF-8 standalone no
fcla fda yes
!-- St. Nicholas: vol. 11, no. 9 ( Serial ) --
METS:mets OBJID UF00065513_00145
xmlns:METS http:www.loc.govMETS
xmlns:mods http:www.loc.govmodsv3
xmlns:ufdc http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2
xmlns:xlink http:www.w3.org1999xlink
xmlns:xsi http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance
xmlns:daitss http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss
http:www.loc.govMETS http:www.loc.govstandardsmetsmets.xsd
http:www.loc.govmodsv3 http:www.loc.govmodsv3mods-3-3.xsd http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitssdaitss.xsd http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2 http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2ufdc2.xsd
METS:metsHdr CREATEDATE 2009-07-06T13:34:09Z ID LASTMODDATE 2007-05-04T16:46:40Z RECORDSTATUS NEW
METS:name UF
Go UFDC FDA Preparation Tool
METS:dmdSec DMD1
METS:mdWrap MDTYPE MODS MIMETYPE textxml LABEL Metadata Object Description Schema
mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
"A monthly magazine for boys and girls."
Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued July 1884
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00145
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 11
mods:number 11
No. 9
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas: vol. 11, no. 9
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
OTHERMDTYPE UFDC University of Florida Digital Collections
ufdc:Collection.Primary JUV
ufdc:SubCollection NICK
ufdc:MainThumbnail 00001thm.jpg
ufdc:BibID UF00065513
ufdc:VID 00145
ufdc:Name Scribner,
ufdc:statement UF University of Florida
ufdc:Type Serial
ufdc:SerialHierarchy level 1 order 11 Vol. 11
2 No. 9
METS:file GROUPID G1 J1 imagejpeg CHECKSUM fa04ec57e8b33112361aef4b40f48a8e CHECKSUMTYPE MD5 SIZE 461892
G2 J2 ee5537fd1efd76823adc3ecd1f5a5048 175587
G3 J3 b310296f548747ccc2255f2a3f1c31f7 279645
G4 J4 b8126b7fa86dd8ae1750d03c475071cf 211741
G5 J5 03970dc14e21e5c7e16cd9eb8bbd3376 334767
G6 J6 c9c8f449c4a5259acd79735fe7eacf6a 288232
G7 J7 4b249f8b963c13fa13572b45355aa7c9 252840
G8 J8 03fac0eea8644a1197fe5f48139c23ae 286009
G9 J9 244f7e40f202e9adddbc059eed740459 331566
G10 J10 76771dbced61927581fe7863c49570d2 314027
G11 J11 b88529b9d73a6861d58341c407544a7c 308275
G12 J12 f5dfbafc31a1738b4a38564b485e01c7 302766
G13 J13 ead19f63eee42e9ec26deea07500358c 323264
G14 J14 578848e0c8efcf9a798a21772cc909d3 308500
G15 J15 eb8d2f51e248c1f8074bd323d87e66a6 215053
G16 J16 6d684e95cb2db47f25767a5be4987548 111049
G17 J17 267ce5a2c5f403f7ec36117226360925 281368
G18 J18 96645db2b83721fd2a871bc044a1df33 323950
G19 J19 87996a26ffb3af7ea119f09d7b5c3a1a 326426
G20 J20 08865ad80277ae42447b7345249373f3 324406
G21 J21 dd316323570a64cf540de385ed485283 311839
G22 J22 d5dc74a31fb378c8d9e222be3c8d4946 324477
G23 J23 a71ae6db6ba7af5e5eee5e7afb54d18f 315798
G24 J24 cf57720fe9b00a2e01c1829d9cc1fb75 313995
G25 J25 8987330d2af3c221124d9a8ea36187aa 217176
G26 J26 210c1e9195ecf71acc7c5d61f9e25bc6 283702
G27 J27 2233e50e5747c085251676fd984ad2e9 277259
G28 J28 f2d406c61e01b9f84fd8d3b567e66a0a 295306
G29 J29 69e5760b5707ef1097458fc7eb3ee2ca 300100
G30 J30 9754821984d351c275935935fa4714cc 303773
G31 J31 c3fe1091e15a4dd27628392b6d4a7177 315081
G32 J32 87af621233a91536948b3d822960db3d 164346
G33 J33 afe889f491425be85e8c01bc87db786f 255597
G34 J34 86fd3e0db14ce706413c8a70afaf3dd3 293954
G35 J35 3606f358f79cfc2b5267d13fdbd8f838 338458
G36 J36 4f7bf2e2c4026189a21b07104dd5867a 336220
G37 J37 84771d64994ae4d62ef8f23d42f34a0d 328415
G38 J38 4e795e86e99946206efac555dba607bb 230434
G39 J39 4d2c990289b87c9814e6de6f938a3e03 304928
G40 J40 700455b27b8e3876e8f1a3a8db136ddb 309585
G41 J41 39fbd15d9f1a414cfc1f05ea96611027 305394
G42 J42 faef1e0e46a21b6ab76dc0e52a05629c 306738
G43 J43 d74ebbb8354be634b918bda402d30142 315748
G44 J44 4e893170d2ef4c68ed1ff215c14a3f66 324053
G45 J45 5210a6017347a8a4e69a8c979eea2e5b 337174
G46 J46 3fda420c119d271233db08aa7927b1b1 310990
G47 J47 d441219c27e9de6913be4d8f0c67f2fa 319126
G48 J48 592a2a9349772f93aa8066c79fc11482 260027
G49 J49 9db52b4499bf3e829fc038b5f5054bca 226311
G50 J50 80d7c59222b338364cdefeb18e0bae7d 252533
G51 J51 50d87b0db476d044983c2df45f4759da 284759
G52 J52 93d77083b8b71b7effc1a93f9467d359 250175
G53 J53 ddb41a8fc0c4420be741c04ee9e95f73 314310
G54 J54 d428b5c9327ed89cca5ff638ddda605f 349428
G55 J55 699c95f8a6d33037fa69918a787c17b9 349165
G56 J56 d1866cafc9dd47dc902ad7c66b093d12 284043
G57 J57 f499574eb12868557b7e06c487ab0e0d 278021
G58 J58 22388adbd7eb693df32c5295702d8feb 305757
G59 J59 e084572d0451fa2de61977161bc45c87 306974
G60 J60 e05f674bba7eca704a00ae6d10c01f70 314793
G61 J61 d7472e36d907759078a792126ff58ff7 271475
G62 J62 d87fcbab94d24a6802951693ba9a6e3b 310684
G63 J63 b9e8729d38832c3a3f5f738afc34f6e9 312189
G64 J64 0d0ca072aa84986c31d295ca840f3aa7 239961
G65 J65 203e9dae401373edf933c14a0cc5890e 354489
G66 J66 a2f8f6361c8bd25d36819e50eb1abf8f 213072
G67 J67 ae0857bb7f11549a7fdc1ac9140f74e1 326597
G68 J68 09584803e22f63f343e4055b3aeddf57 206573
G69 J69 b258011c042b61905055d5249bf4f338 327686
G70 J70 f4e8079a6119e420f1add919fb4d174a 193387
G71 J71 a4f7ab9bf475094778ca8dcb185d6d8a 273737
G72 J72 ca198f5083051179279976dd63c1bd8c 307977
G73 J73 d63112029e841b3983bca4d53b094e5d 268001
G74 J74 63e971bcb9dc0843685d04aaaa2fb26e 288206
G75 J75 41661a7f14700f85096a373b5514d950 324351
G76 J76 246de4c9c3cc6dc528d1acab95ecb482 287163
G77 J77 f256189c4651728398f91f78a66a75da 267346
G78 J78 7ed33b8890db93c54986d8264daa81de 277814
G79 J79 61fe21bb961c8dd0ccf1b8fd80d27c8d 321652
G80 J80 7e6274eebb140c7b5b7f64111ae6e423 264956
G81 J81 2ea7e07a1165257dfd4fc0ce33ed1b05 274293
G83 J83 b681bb95277cc8c331bc7742d1b73b3a 177723
G84 J84 1f26b45ba9ae8628ed4df1a1fcbf5851 370583
G85 J85 2f1adbd87a1214cbbabd2a18e883e58a 143568
E1 imagejp2 226b487a5eb5a32d6b07db70ebf5ef7f 785197
E2 a3af5930c824f70c335a18b63b93dbe5 800967
E3 b8c7abe1a51496126a40ad4a8b3b4cdf 686760
E4 29665539b5189ed9d41f6971f9fca89d 686942
E5 3f39279dc2534c8241eccff7b26e9095 686953
E6 f3c3d299bd503e78d4c6bbae65fd8ccd 686979
E7 e773401596a846ad03150715bdaf631f 686966
E8 e1d2d16b8accba4f1dcdb7641188cbea 686918
E9 1ed741462785db27a23bb37b4a51534e 686909
E10 5cb38d2e34869430f050790d241fcf38 686614
E11 cddfc9491558ac1b86e5e68b8ef25883 686924
E12 c0505126597494337b6fd696a985823d 686976
E13 9b331631839aaf2fc574804fd9a928c1 686971
E14 c06085136265b23d3302251bc77e8f06 686950
E15 6a5a2c0e562558ba4b3702baa4bb5773
E16 11dc8e3005c15f2701c1caee0295a7b3 686973
E17 679c043b900f12fc2a358cac4b16b7fc 686873
E18 f2242460cc80eba7889b8b296f6b313a 686927
E19 a90d2e3d29574bd504e5f118cbeccedd 686867
E20 f4c5200c6bb2f638fc53ff9dc1991425 686931
E21 e0a76ae633beb823c6ad2563518d4aee
E22 bae5f7967975ba9d2a0264af325d8a9f
E23 8bf284a54b5a16a802cd168a9f54c80a
E24 8ba5c7682511d766e5aba23627fcbb2d 686906
E25 6f08b7b1c4bc9ce689b547137c953c85
E26 c702eb436ec47e3216bd3d16b9533bed
E27 12ddb4d0849124836a531361fcc6a99d 686959
E28 aadec512f04ae5d629595bac6be0bbcc 686965
E29 a259de4f2d287b535da7d295f4f3e23f 686974
E30 ec29d05a58253bd9a1d3613b9ff42dfb 686970
E31 27f4b5f1b5d3f77dc56044a6be9ebb26 686945
E32 9828e7fde0e5e11385e23e4edd69d6f5 686947
E33 904f6b30cdb6e4e5298a8407c4750642 686576
E34 ca04bfaf6ecf95dda8f6f27b00b8dceb
E35 1ecc510921644d3fd2897a0a3d4f9331 686952
E36 0ebde57e5c9fd0029e70d428f39070cd 686885
E37 5a74b0add9910a9a31110c28cbefc343 686898
E38 467c08fbd1b8556627691121336e6893 686963
E39 b5c1acde53fd02ded9550ee0137c5e2f 686941
E40 4ffd96f096adeaf71ac8ecd73fdb32c8 686977
E41 5537ce69617ac15b9bdc5098605f6be0 686948
E42 c0b4a50f18fc54de9b9603e0bebda22c 686980
E43 e9c67907d4af87b99fc5b98820369166 686964
E44 4668fd2c0f6f5ecc40acd69c79026d44 686967
E45 1036ea5386074f337426f13c889b41b5
E46 907d711ebd87fd24aec79c67d4f31fff 686969
E47 23e8f9e8d0301167acba30c35a84ff00 686835
E48 68929928f80cd021d24368fec97d7f9b 686829
E49 621fe8dccd63875447b157ee99dedbc7 686975
E50 5383bd9fcd02c2d21142560f60a63c79 686865
E51 8016f306b644b554277be6ec1b5900a4
E52 5a519f4882700d9bd86eb36ee85aa477
E53 f234b44d333ff1746c57bae418eb8c1f 686919
E54 451470528f19030629d20cb777f55428 686871
E55 30d68e08a209dc8e44b118bc9a11ceab 686937
E56 60e8204bcc8ba81b0c68e22c4b556163 686972
E57 0e6154f65e7dc7ae6561f80f427d1a2a
E58 792e3fb863690e0e7f67a306272a9008
E59 a1f8d0c2d0f3f35193fd05fe7b596b8a
E60 3fae57cff2a4e5ce58dd79a91d19538f
E61 c9dc3d860a5740e2affa4005dab48112 686930
E62 b45383906a9a49f08f8feb49f3cc7ac6
E63 2efd463ca9082ac97c2553e42ff8ea14
E64 fc5387c64d52c08e0afab8b943556929 686956
E65 dd677977797803d1d6eac9c00485d1f8
E66 557329c75fa5017258bba01ad891eed0
E67 bab942898cc13d8156362de2de95cbee
E68 6ca5476b8628e3b3bd7353c932aa0be3 686958
E69 24d7dac984bace9e2ea11d6ead555430
E70 5485afd1e2da795a67eed7c91cac5092
E71 8c5c979d6fc8409fdac25849960e88c1
E72 30004268d2ad4f992e5b443aee0dd4e5 686936
E73 25cba15185ce8684135c6acc00e00d05
E74 5034e4675d354e775c1dd241c9d5b167
E75 6ebed998a7346943021a8a5d6e257231
E76 067e7c1542e7f3be9115930e8213085b 686910
E77 fc1e3f1d6f19de57b6f10c3cd99e7fce 686874
E78 3033fc93939b1167240cff2453c434ef
E79 322c9aa69a2aded4b591b84284e9f8c4 686978
E80 c925cd437a9472d4980c587ca880b988 686859
E81 2e9f4cf29f93ccd65bd97d4e921b60b5 686895
E83 6a58570a5676db90f44c3e85d9e3a5c0 784503
E84 4628e392b9cf31e94044c3cc0becddc1 777250
E85 451fdf124cc544facb9f9b97768274ac 154975
F1 imagetiff 6.0 15e318a907f5a8fa9109fa5df1522306 18865964
F2 858654fd86908b9accc278cf3b7d1c4e 19242332
F3 6ea142eb44a6f1fe9fb4fbbae439b396 5516992
F4 c9ac9114bafc78afea6887a035a971ff 5517312
F5 ab0b35909b2eb7fca48244780b370373 5519064
F6 e6c048e16db64c1815439e77f57da31f 5518844
F7 1e1d341c4ae2b1a89114c47b7bd87961 5518232
F8 ba5c7512318e42563e64a4d53dfbe5f8 5518760
F9 bd32c0186c77b5889ec15aac8b32c69d 5519028
F10 29d886bc20f5b6aa976fcaa827e94499 5519128
F11 ea06b3d7f604a7d00608acd149a42715 5518960
F12 a0289a33ad225e2dad13610473863350 5518640
F13 0324782c3cf24156a55e541f3c02c8bd 5518860
F14 10f92c7dc8bc447573cb09644124ac88 5519136
F15 251cea08fdf71b03bd6c63424af92c54 5517236
F16 3e70e3472176dd41fa39877fc17c7cd1 5517480
F17 4c503211db9abbb1f122f48b46a7ae53 5518732
F18 2d72ee1f2c0e437d5dd8061acd92feef 5518788
F19 42092f5193e5b9b4f4fffc12c71a846a 5518656
F20 080da295540611aca9be968d255cf075 5518644
F21 dfe9b8a9dba5edd4447b86e25a3b047d 5518812
F22 73e7a76d3f2bde7175906ec8e0c3ad8e 5518876
F23 24b96b301f8161a86463b3a03917162f 5518804
F24 62b767737b173e7b1313ce114c76aeb9 5518796
F25 7d684f9eefb6a335ca7f3a27fac1b0a6 5517620
F26 632fd6574f7892fab4a0beaea949253f 5518868
F27 fb3752e5cedb448045f0ba9e7c4194c7 5519172
F28 405407c6354a78505f2d1af42334bec6
F29 12c1f6b83b9ad1924e3f542f6d43c610 5519484
F30 6162f3da018f3923848c04ca524f6ba4 5519416
F31 e48e5fcf004dea7163a6df60f78a7a11 5519536
F32 208b10828853992086c38bced6532029 5516300
F33 4e6b1e5c5e5c0da74f97d41d90ad3744 5517684
F34 94c58a63be33cf16ab75494ccf7eb921 5518404
F35 2f492aab35379c4babd014b3d2cf28a4 5519196
F36 cefb06ff994d12405e2a44fa8cf78854 5519024
F37 7efa1cc63616e606eb39a4629a405bf5 5518764
F38 f66f749ad0e4814d08054d8c452b4c80 5517476
F39 1e34c52c03c1b8106975d46124a33d87 5518948
F40 babd98de59c84fbd36f5d6343a574589 5518780
F41 8b34074563ce173253470840f47913ff
F42 3cb899c28f5dbe59b8125650f54bcca5
F43 110daac2edea02f2f520213bb0824788 5519020
F44 f50c4ba0b19c8e102f0227ca1df565f6 5518968
F45 f5eee9fbdf1c11b3e53cdd9cefe4d80b 5519088
F46 a8abc481000e703df4111a814b1c9c62 5518816
F47 2c4bdc92faf35132ac47579c96d2d809 5518976
F48 4178e497899eb66aaff0619d46c18328 5518100
F49 dd33cc165ebb0c74750d7b97065ce12a 5518384
F50 47a82d2e7e3f4c33b50631fd9e2be7d2 5518388
F51 d16972f29bcabe97bbc96142ca8c6ef0 5518600
F52 d4be9eaed483670590d50546c0f25daf 5517900
F53 2eea65cee466fbc1e1b491f9eb3c3cd2 5519720
F54 8be568ce9fcec2becd46e02d6e22e6b4 5519184
F55 5ee2825c307bf441095410ba1c85b900 5519384
F56 21e0ba9b7ffdc4252f3d34e423469dd5 5518368
F57 1cb95ed28f16601ac5acf6af4489ccf0 5518880
F58 4c623e141ce5ed7e2d07fb175253f18f 5518456
F59 2ab93fd387d93e21198a36da8679565a 5518820
F60 8fad83d5b7bab6a7b8096daebc89e101 5518528
F61 4d064b1ed6d617c106908c925aef51b5 5519716
F62 b003f18029b5133ea79c63ea7c8a91b3
F63 ddd2e39ce88179fa978c08d5b2ed9702 5518904
F64 4f665b1bb8d5c5ec613031ae9b4145d7 5518072
F65 f84519630438e3af02e4ad9f02ddede8 5519456
F66 b776f76e588063dbe1469b7338b873bc 5517256
F67 4e26c93fc06cf03d356a50917ae993e9 5519204
F68 6f27c77a4fe0d818fe1d29f336a441f8 5517024
F69 1912dd34295c5bde9ee15125aec93910 5518836
F70 e6507c08d31e9cf4822bf587d6db185c 5517616
F71 d4430c1d26106ee9573219f8d6efa541 5518264
F72 1a08ae94140d109619efd55323e70bea
F73 f31845a58373fc3c8af9a5a7dfe6b5cf 5518684
F74 33b658799fca9f96c7a4a9bd9c9c07bb 5518896
F75 adf395ccde7192629a7a3b5532cbd803 5519168
F76 a1127239bd6d2c10d92f4dd4f6175863 5518400
F77 fddf2521924c6d3191a99c939318c253 5518324
F78 aeb608a9251a42d8c96b3a1f50cca1e9 5517780
F79 0c12431d6b3d61f2ef49784e95bee305 5518848
F80 258cc8b174a1d443eb3077ab07735a08 5518464
F81 c514367d48bd6f3f872b99ad2ca1572e 5518328
F83 471e67d9a0d60fb773608817e6be3556 18845120
F84 7ba295942668fdb3d1b2b5c8e049a339 18670908
F85 6f755d6f9f5fa68b0d7c11680cc38d65 3736280
T1 textplain daca4621229388cf64971377da689eb0 42
T3 ba73b37e551f2056f3ac61706e05e72e 368
T4 72cb552b8aa8e14b087910f924f5cbf8 3144
T5 d7c554901c1cdaf467c365cb53ab5199 5402
T6 5a7b106b7918646e055be7dd5e4c1035 3106
T7 96173264e7c149eff62e82ec279aefd2 2884
T8 6a004825f1216c46271a9e2292fb606f 3941
T9 4eaebff6ad3356678b82254f690ee52a 5345
T10 2fa6c619f8a3d05d3293e8bd004e1523 2414
T11 8cfbea018b6829311f1567658346eab1 4927
T12 1c0c46847b6c2fc5235ce37c680663f0 5106
T13 c4613678b47700270d513a238041a3f5 5225
T14 91f6b0cde6ca24c02491883c2c028bc0 2294
T15 afa43cf15a9ecb2c832be5db17ab59b9 3406
T16 f4def943733ea62bfbbc5670f11abb9c 157
T17 caaf05739b86b20922c6aff5fd80fdff 3034
T18 379ff0b28587a024efec3313e2b8ff1a 5366
T19 fbc4e23e6ccfd2bff043e80809759bec 5337
T20 af2dd586b5b1d36fdf78224d4c40f82f 5450
T21 6d56a201d6288bbe81967cb7aa586d4c 5212
T22 bc7cdfdcea2cafb9d666812ebe800fa0 5318
T23 9d86a0b3b4c3ff93dfcf58e02eb0c1ed 4091
T24 eec541d0d8b9732956efe65bbe240d61 5282
T25 b343a4ffb72fdcb632a7ae7e2d4b697b 1904
T26 9a1e83db341b6027d8eca23928e39ba9 3775
T27 96b0aa3fe9e153cf747136294bd22459 3051
T28 a3f55d71395ec807b6a7b5ceb19a3348 2797
T29 d6ddb261279cc0756a1fe731064ae88d 3918
T30 3bc93157e1b0900eaaf961a1076235ee 4324
T31 d66371fcc3c3d66437a9ce74cce2cfa1 3654
T32 1d1bb433625ec8e2f6afad151653a85b 2461
T33 d5fe4cec28fefea80fe38de6a2635a4e 991
T34 e0f10a824e58cdc691ae3124a50a5cca 4646
T35 82306d67b643443129437607532ae2f6 5469
T36 68a59780590543eff5244408bfeaa194 4583
T37 5aefe199dc0e95ed4b70f180adb45738 4591
T38 8af70b6aeff5c4cc396bdb431d9e8a3f 3610
T39 19770624764d68696f9abbb7f2f77425 3958
T40 68ed9ef95f25b855649f463281717c16 5211
T41 357514c849974307699eb9bb536f09d5 4913
T42 12866e6571cd3e98de76c0699813f70f 3498
T43 995089b193192b149637b81d353d180b 5213
T44 1cc9ed4b84a33300e35c9b21830b42b4 5356
T45 fbc389cff36945cd3b1226fa254aefc4 5446
T46 5ab012cfc411fe48f906d8b0c5504f8e 5134
T47 7fe83e4869bafdb26273930d4c698dc3 2263
T48 9513f6eddcc430b6ad778873a88db7ac 4268
T49 5d41b417ae22943a18eb1a2c658a9fcf 3460
T50 f7a6d7fa5c814583a9fd5461d40c6454 969
T51 516bebaa53b3f519606668c9eb4d4438 4443
T52 f05948daf2cc6d7d781d10d09b313d7a 1817
T53 c739b33a77cf6ed29c9b6c46b2be384a 3180
T54 95e9257e5e09f97c619630234a8f7650 5742
T55 4b1dfd22c0bbf54eeec508dc328a7f0b 5698
T56 c3fc54f4a29670c4704b1ddce040f662 2442
T57 82c195fc57fdee6a8ad50c171d50e935 2096
T58 ceb006c646b25be4228a5dbfbb210532 4884
T59 fa43398b6e0778893996fb8aad76bed7 5027
T60 9fdddaa4c24c181e5b9107b6b4be3b38 5227
T61 a72d40c661617ea3c196ebc519770909 492
T62 9940a76004ecb7157b7eba7a73e542d4 4936
T63 fb8fd2ce1ef5225d4ada222ff8d78a9b 2865
T64 861b70404c26f09ff5dd9bdaa9e1b708 1870
T65 4e381e10ec21b84e2275605cd49abacc 5856
T66 813c6eb6fd9b2a01b64065a1bb5abd8b 510
T67 4e30763636a51f12d43c68cd9154f4ad 3546
T68 5991a9ba4bb4d907728f18ed47dd6321 1854
T69 6965923839a97a687d4dd974e567cff0 5182
T70 80303eca330497ad73390fb0d90e07bb 1337
T71 a448cd3ed8a968c740a8e6c8e735a438 2246
T72 c4b88dab085278ae181665bca8bd78a4 1650
T73 7ed7c5d84d86876dd6cea4a072a124bb 3968
T74 a98b65ae4f243865133741c28ccc9233 2497
T75 c8aa8271ee3a26a836815a5bcd39862a 5244
T76 bf423265def888d5ed52aaa0b8310d53 4364
T77 6d3d76d1cbff087ec7e95a075f746ca7 7069
T78 2429cf6685cc8629ebb765d827aa6e8d 8306
T79 533ce2c3a7094b8e169402f6f6802858 9345
T80 3d73c7309285e671a25b5e3a8a06355c 5789
T81 6c4d667249463644f5d49b1a29455dc3 7631
T85 81051bcc2cf1bedf378224b0a93e2877
J999999 41862c18297f7839e8c1c7e200b026e8 44769
AR1 textx-pro 2e9cf33695cc70ab182574b4e579eddf 451
AR2 1645b2000e148291694e3eaa1ae3d335 115144
AR3 8d4c1fc933a6dbc3bfab144d867fac71 42365
AR4 79e6b0c6a6e9bd82db1297321687d1ab 3844
AR5 df62aa8f16504b619df655cb9afe878e 71355
AR6 877f63b5e9bdec985cef81642e602231 74658
AR7 6b0e921d21d500bf7a2b1f0232706f0c 69690
AR8 19ffaeb2714e2fa2dffcfc22ef18a09a 132018
AR9 33d8113eccef75d16e551fc03764a693 99665
AR10 8b2d4224b7ed92ff86e50c220e4aa209 67709
AR11 06dba61d500b50823df935a8fa4bfb4c 89399
AR12 4f66aff6bb0ddcd4604d820bb1006400 70520
AR13 392ac249eea48000e2f7896443c2aa7e 80833
AR14 f14c05c5edf88f2f7643a8524ff05ca7 88513
AR15 f0ebf5bb88b571ad379f13ff53569721 91313
AR16 d5e287b2c2feede76f0bd9c0b104ebb2 131513
AR17 dad11a9ff4a1955a0b47be825840b387 98331
AR18 6d9b1e65f6aa9eecc9c137aadf3a1c4a 58399
AR19 2211d159c15c231836c3c2dd5b245a21 94039
AR20 ff64707e8de2ac02aeed4914c87c4671 119524
AR21 066c347c1d9246f9eb9d44a9608f9e9b 95650
AR22 1abaa2c40c84a78dde533a74928e8c56 121501
AR23 e959ce0ecbaf551bfca2edbc4dd17443 92769
AR24 f8ad58ad50a6b6cfee3364afe2764d1f 127142
AR25 1f36ba8972bb30176e8eb0a186090f15 97794
AR26 a626647539145a484883d7392746d4c3 54861
AR27 685d95bb2f7f3b4431158db23cd4b671 94097
AR28 600587f9675c200a0b5702a918a5a3b8 82072
AR29 e8550bfd34aa48d0bc169facd12c3657 70880
AR30 aec1c3fd93db2a97330b29818b704faa 3669
AR31 2e41dabf14023675d54d529646b2dc49 46677
AR32 d09b14310f0d56ee585fb368966a57b7 74568
AR33 37449cfedad1b97bdd913e103a03a26e 89633
AR34 e07b30a1dde009c18c4438067fbe7a00 130763
AR35 d97c1932351dc1863569f5d07cda8d55 95789
AR36 a836eec3bffaae68e83c8bda6300a340 130943
AR37 12176f36e15fc4b37e0c4ef9477edb7d 97380
AR38 a8a1a6d19a75af624a851ead1f772f2d 132303
AR39 bc20e86294636d109c6cd18da20aaa02 95079
AR40 1eb55ce582088a74485e64269b925bae 126336
AR41 587838bc066d406a11ac0d76fac92b58 95945
AR42 115c8cdccbcf595d85bb9400b918f993 129980
AR43 cc07fa7759edfcff15a7de350c24c824 95426
AR44 78dfbc594c0b53a67ae599379e199d70 99108
AR45 165d40388cfdde1042df32c2fdd66337 94205
AR46 5690f78009386cf8f99055ab61e0a548 128089
AR47 a9b478a47d87dd25dfddaa90501fd2ee 94689
AR48 2ade9c011114d432a937c65d2ed78d0e 42000
AR49 348b3f2e4a6db31d2fcf670bb7f2bed0 70707
AR50 3310e5d374924b6bbcbf53422b758bd6 83575
AR51 6abfdd2b2b0eeb331815c8c77d82ab86 87867
AR52 f2d759819aa28f8e58e57dd361ef2f89 63739
AR53 a00a70b37a64f87c68c7d46993e19ba6 89120
AR54 b67c55b850a42fee5d910f93d6286025 55061
AR55 d61b19989a8e0c136e88d1de42dfe566 90048
AR56 1083a218968bb10c7bf475be41ed27ac 71387
AR57 e71766866658ac6252915ea9df19c221 94881
AR58 0867e975f030364f2caa723689bcef42 85120
AR59 3eaadd238b650f624f53a22c9fef142d 95328
AR60 a4acd7039f34e4525e192a817504755f 76408
AR61 faa163dff587ba16c5c8ff5d23827f3b 96523
AR62 1e58bc8f76f2f97e8893caebf7000118 57006
AR63 c01212b30a049a5b53f6020f179a270a 56058
AR64 ca898027e6679d3a15c3fcdd17bf17a9 23828
AR65 4745e75976fc9b2bd8053eb65c12f388 75211
AR66 15065a373a392641412b3b1889d1af7f 113278
AR67 4859dd237c40d66e84de4625ce12da23 88294
AR68 0272dc4c69cbe60054556355fc2da995 133330
AR69 a1feae30c4f663bc54638508bf5a0caf 100028
AR70 2a73fdd8250192b7cd44d5155a4a51e4 101718
AR71 9955d3758432a9e352ca1354aea34478 97819
AR72 1d68ccfaeddb38dc0323b89990eff5cc 111531
AR73 994ebce82f044da72c94c923a5143520 95499
AR74 fc631ea57e53da863b04e524ac8ba8f7 81757
AR75 01663350c7ced6844f58f205e8cecc07 73153
AR76 2f2ed104a26b62b72b15d2d17d60e89d 94447
AR77 4e95053361726fca435239f29355296f 94451
AR78 eb4eca096f53349ae97cebb7101d84c1 124827
AR79 a6884d2114fde3c822acffaccc7b69a6 93698
AR80 fd3e25c8368b47f43a6b88570709ac8b 118261
AR81 6c4c3e2651b4efdfe7ceeed6f65a1ada 94955
AR82 cbf6a765e32487184d99cfa46603cbec 80304
AR83 e0bc1209fb86928f27c112741edf9cf7 94066
AR84 b98ac8d911013e52e06f22f90d9b9359 124060
AR85 9032953fd7ff89811fdf19d5abb70e74 95684
AR86 adedabc5e691302b7087fa4284b6167c 130463
AR87 539ee4bcc02ae47327631790a4b39589 97092
AR88 f5992abe3f42f589237d3f69e2a615e2 134006
AR89 074e09df8f4f1da70b93392ed01485fd 98846
AR90 d1cfc8dddd87de266826bf726c43d691 124698
AR91 b2ae61e4db5babd4b8d23e63c6211605 92933
AR92 53fb677676d249f6552bf9d30d5f53ad 55321
AR93 143e130ac43f78694623f0d022b5174e 94426
AR94 59cd02b2d56493710844ad200efe4fba 101779
AR95 d3a0fae95de0d9e7bb403a6ff6f2b3c6 83324
AR96 b93a210921f97054c9d1d05a5e72f3ac 82546
AR97 16f01eed4ab6e135dcc46f7677e0eb91 80653
AR98 6cbf4d981e597f0a6987551cfa41b078 21108
AR99 507f726fb8c0a907b5e85ba899f0dd31 80013
AR100 22949606108384a3dd29dc3cf80d3465 107605
AR101 0756d0751f6a2b054ef099d23a7742f2 89072
AR102 5fd527f00c6a304e51319bcc05a2e333 42975
AR103 b2c5be302a01fa02343b54d333cd4874 74425
AR104 ac517971216b7e26ad7f68363a159dea 76865
AR105 20678ad01f073f54c7c17eabc398403f 98979
AR106 df2c77f2a8796fff0d9b192b705904c8 139261
AR107 02b679cc68044f84ca175eb37b3027bb 100523
AR108 653b454f2faf72674fb533d66c15b401 140145
AR109 6ae2e1efa161f8befd1b4d0e967c419f 102059
AR110 1707a5b1480057ec2bc16a35613a577e 58186
AR111 fb21a2639c585db15ba320cc159ef15e 87104
AR112 8b5f26d288d2154b90685ca0953f3972 50882
AR113 6f5c4b6b1be57d14b2ba5d12c1cb3b3f 87287
AR114 9c88fd140be7e83ea784528155a08c77 119713
AR115 e54dc51b61e9ecd5e49176d807dd985a 89752
AR116 44e1f375863818a2048c7b8b22753126 122400
AR117 1e30b7e5ea683c6467ad5358b36c1a38 91999
AR118 ca86930878a7b10d47c197a301c7c042 127889
AR119 d57515532f15d7aeff351d4dd9279d0e 92742
AR120 03cd6a901efae280619b31c47b779b73 9750
AR121 e1ca8c09dfb351e1fbed1702bfa49901 92518
AR122 38091d05d13d5d15d15ee5ada360f737 120387
AR123 4fc8a654e27bbf7bcadb58530e92cb8f 92711
AR124 afede5c8a2aa747618f6dbb7a20c581c 69251
AR125 a6fb8dba9301be5983b710536d8b2f8c 92854
AR126 d785e2a1d5d3f33e01a89ff2c1fbd242 45008
AR127 dd70602d00a5ca8f85e8c29baf4e09f1 76980
AR128 d7275b87fd7bcd89d7fb562c4f38beb1 142216
AR129 893e0f918ec5cfb3eaf2d6e34e070c36 102571
AR130 c031382bd565fc064b042a64a85a96b3 7653
AR131 1865087113dd03a1d6c447ab3661265d 68536
AR132 e26bb112b62b7e713fc5deb88dda6c0b 83301
AR133 db6d45b66782ba6a7e5f6e975e9988d6 97731
AR134 ca7d91a53a2673c66d6975e2cc09fbf9 42337
AR135 0d8a29f53c70c082ec38cdccf8612b92 66626
AR136 eb877bea13a5c175ba9597894b844044 127291
AR137 dbc1d44d0fb0e2088b796d4d484afee7 95747
AR138 39fb5990353c37ec6167be12b5c044d0 29695
AR139 7d92499eaf3ef3b37971aa4ce4b935a5 69130
AR140 2781313c66020e71c6b3dd7d22e8dae1 36945
AR141 0cf1c3ab80bd81a67897662ca435aeeb 89009
AR142 2058ebd0914597c8b74edc22016acd72 38374
AR143 ebcfaffa5fb99d7337ffd8a49703c410 93704
AR144 d079fd3b743f94ed23f783c92375d5af 91563
AR145 3a658bd6b43279ac58e7330559f0c4d3 87516
AR146 434a400b2f64e964c0b235055aa16e85 59149
AR147 9dae6fc5a583f07ccd6bfefa5c9fb6e8 89584
AR148 dcb2034d41f244ad3615c2f373c6af58 124700
AR149 39a921620972a493a85d4ab8ddc7d9ee 97101
AR150 de49683bb9897d60b373a507a64aa442 101618
AR151 5839d74fc4493e808ddd6b65156d19e5 86552
AR152 1e5cf1a60f12b0960dcbeb5decb3a116 159061
AR153 8298fe14e191e2e3502b9d2d316d6f7e 82668
AR154 efe203ffd0363d2799105959d8d660f4 193748
AR155 4f9c3193cb6b4ab29a73ca5cbc7c0985 84078
AR156 7df4643d4a6c8407c0e3e32bf8a8cbd6 221492
AR157 46bcd74ae209c0967fc283ff0b3ccdd7 96000
AR158 f97070307061932b5dd7b5fb26d7b779 128538
AR159 b20a0c52aaea51b2c36d164d5a0835f5 83975
AR160 c94fa0f5e64043c84230bb9a1249e387 165111
AR161 de725c8391128576cfce978131461df9 85359
AR162 e6bccac2598474ec3ab77105e545e12a 42325
AR163 7243ef19059728b608db28bfcd343e16 64996
AR164 f01f26431eb02ba9f4080789d7bbf96f 219
AR165 bd33f1de46f0f66fcd10c7d97e268760 41965
AR166 4579097e811f1b8930c5d0e6d5bebf62 24
AR167 2548f80e3666ff33175740b29ba2af78 121751
METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D2 Frontispiece
P3 666
D3 How the Tories broke up "meeting" 3 Chapter
P4 667
P5 668
P6 669
P7 670 4
D4 The scarlet tanager
P8 671
P9 672
P10 673
P11 674
P12 675 5
P13 676 6
P14 677 7
D5 To a Katydid Poem
P15 678
D6 Our top brigade
P16 679
D7 Seventh spinning-wheel story
P17 680
P18 681
P19 682
P20 683
P21 684
P22 685
P23 686
P24 687 8
D8 brook's song
P25 688
D9 A Fourth July among Indians
P26 689
P27 690
P28 691
P29 692
P30 693
P31 694
D10 flower girl 10
P32 695
D11 Gold-robin
P33 696
D12 youngest soldier revolution 12
P34 697
P35 698
P36 699
P37 700
D13 way to grow wise 13
P38 701 (MULTIPLE)
D14 Marvin and his boy hunters 14
P39 702
P40 703
P41 704
P42 705
P43 706
P44 707
P45 708
P46 709
P47 710
P48 711
D15 Nabby Blackington 15
P49 712
P50 713
D16 Egyptian bird-mouse 16
P51 714
P52 715
D17 Historic boys 17
P53 716
P54 717
P55 718
P56 719
P57 720
D18 stranger 18
P58 721
D19 Picnics 19
P59 722
P60 723
D20 giraffe excursion 20
P61 724
D21 Bartholdi statue 21
P62 725
P63 726
P64 727
P65 728
P66 729
P67 730
P68 731
P69 732
D22 Summer trials (pictures) 22
P70 733
D23 For very little folk: tale toad-fish 23
P71 734
P72 735
D28 Nicholas almanac
P73 736
D30 caravan 25
P74 737
D24 Jack-in-the-pulpit 26
P75 738
P76 739
D25 letter-box 27
P77 740
P78 741
P79 742
D26 riddle-box 28
P80 743
P81 744
D27 29 Back
D29 30 Spine
METS:behaviorSec VIEWS Options available user for viewing this item
METS:behavior VIEW1 STRUCTID Default View
METS:mechanism Viewer JPEGs Procedure xlink:type simple xlink:title JPEG_Viewer()
VIEW2 Alternate
zoomable JPEG2000s JP2_Viewer()
INTERFACES Banners or interfaces which resource can appear under
INT1 Interface

St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00145
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00145
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 666
    How the Tories broke up "meeting"
        Page 667
        Page 668
        Page 669
        Page 670
    The scarlet tanager
        Page 671
        Page 672
        Page 673
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
        Page 677
    To a Katydid
        Page 678
    Our top brigade
        Page 679
    Seventh spinning-wheel story
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
        Page 686
        Page 687
    The brook's song
        Page 688
    A Fourth of July among Indians
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
    The flower girl
        Page 695
        Page 696
    The youngest soldier of the revolution
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
        Page 700
    A way to grow wise
        Page 701
    Marvin and his boy hunters
        Page 702
        Page 703
        Page 704
        Page 705
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
        Page 710
        Page 711
    Nabby Blackington
        Page 712
        Page 713
    The Egyptian bird-mouse
        Page 714
        Page 715
    Historic boys
        Page 716
        Page 717
        Page 718
        Page 719
        Page 720
    A stranger
        Page 721
        Page 722
        Page 723
    The giraffe excursion
        Page 724
    The Bartholdi statue
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
        Page 728
        Page 729
        Page 730
        Page 731
        Page 732
    Summer trials (pictures)
        Page 733
    For very little folk: The tale of the toad-fish
        Page 734
        Page 735
    The St. Nicholas almanac
        Page 736
    The caravan
        Page 737
        Page 738
        Page 739
    The letter-box
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
    The riddle-box
        Page 743
        Page 744
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

fit" 477

>m a painting by Alfred Kappes. By pennission of Mr. R. M




JULY, 1884.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]



FOR the third time little Ruth Holley stepped
out on the broad flat stone that served as a door-
step, and shading her eyes with her hand looked
eagerly down the road.
Oh, dear she sighed, glancing at the long
slanting shadows; "it's almost supper-time and
they have n't come, and Sister Molly is never
late i "
Then she turned and passed through the nar-
row entry into the kitchen, where her mother was
bending over a big iron pot which hung from the
crane in the wide fire-place.
"Well, Daughter, any signs of 'em yet? "
"No, Mother," answered Ruth, almost ready to
cry. Perhaps Gray Duke has run away, or
some of the dreadful Tories have stopped them;
and if anything should happen to Geordie or the
twins, I don't know what I shoulddo "
Mrs. Holley raked the embers forward and threw
a fresh log on the fire. "I would n't borrow any
trouble, Daughter," she said quietly; "real trouble
comes thick and fast enough in these dark days
without any need of borrowing more."
The kitchen door opened, and a tall gray-haired
man entered.
"I've put the milk in the pantry, Mother.
Where are Molly and the children ? Have n't they
come ?"
Mrs. Holley shook her head.
"Ruth is worrying, Father, for fear that they 've
been caught by Tories or that Gray Duke has
run away with them."

The farmer threw back his head and laughed.
No fear of that, little girl! Molly Pidgin is a
born horsewoman, and Duke may be fiery and un-
manageable enough with strangers, but he's like
a lamb with Molly. And as for being caught by
the Tories,-why, I 'd just like to see 'em do it,
that 's all There is n't a horse in these parts that
can.keep within sight of Duke's heels. I knew his
value well when I gave him to Molly for a wedding
gift. And they are well matched for spirit 1 "
I wish Molly had less spirit, Father, for then
when Edward went away, she would have come up
here to stay with us," returned Mrs. Holley.
"Middlesex is no place for her; it's a perfect
nest of Tories But we had hard work to get her
to spend even this week with us "
Well, I suppose she thought some of the Tories
would run off the cattle or ransack the house
while she was away. We are passing through
dark days -dark days, Mother It's bad enough
to have to fight an open foe, but when it comes to
having neighbors who are on the watch for every
chance to plunder you and to give you over to the
Red-coats, it's almost more than flesh and blood
can stand "
It was the summer of 1781, the darkest and
most trying period of the Revolution. The cam-
paign of 1779 had proved a failure. The British
were everywhere successful, and the American
army had done almost nothing toward bringing
the war to a close. And 1780 was a still more dis-
couraging year. The winter was one of the coldest


No. 9.


ever known, and the sufferings of the Continental
troops in their winter quarters at Morristown were
terrible. Early in 1781, several hundred of the
soldiers revolted and were only kept by the point
of the bayonet from going home, so that this year,
too, opened most disastrously. The dwellers on
the Connecticut coast lived in constant fear of the
British, who occupied New York City and Long
Island, and frequently crossed the Sound at night
in boats, to plunder the inhabitants and carry
them away captives. Norwalk, Middlesex (now
Darien), and Stamford were particularly hated
by the English on account of the patriotism of
their three ministers, and the Red-coats had been
planning for a long time some way of punishing
the Rev. Mr. Mather, whose earnest teachings
served to keep up the almost fainting courage of
the people of Middlesex.
Mrs. Holley swung the crane further over the
fire, and then helped Ruth to set the table with the
dark-blue china and the large pewter platters, which
had been scoured until they shone like silver.
"Hark What is that ? said the farmer, going
to the door. But Mrs. Holley and Ruth were there
before him, just in time to see a powerful gray
horse dash up to the door and stop obediently at
the decided "Whoa! of his mistress, a rosy-
cheeked, bright-eyed young woman. Behind her,
on the pillion, and securely tied to her waist, was
four-year-old Geordie, while in front, encircled by
her arms, sat the baby twins, Ben and Desire, as
like as two peas. In a moment, Geordie was un-
fastened and Ruth was smothering him with
kisses, while Mrs. Holley looked very proud with
a twin on either arm.
"Well, Molly," said her father, looking at her
admiringly as she sprang lightly to the ground,
"you are as spry as ever. We had begun to
worry about you. What made you so late ? "
I was waiting for dispatches from Edward, and
they came just before I left. They 've had a ter-
rible winter, Father," and the tears gathered in
Molly's eyes. Our brave men have been with-
out shoes and had only miserable rags for clothing,
and hundreds of them have died from hunger and
cold. At times they have had neither bread nor
meat in the camp, and the Continental money
lost value so that it took four months' pay of a pri-
vate to buy a bushel of wheat! Edward says if it
had not been for the great heart and courage of
Washington they would have given up in utter
despair. But things are looking brighter now.
Congress has sent them money, and General
Greene has had some splendid victories in the South;
and Edward says there are still more to follow."
"You don't say! cried the farmer in a
ringing voice, and his bent form straightened, and

his blue eyes flashed. Now, may the Lord be
praised How many times have I told you,
Mother, that we 'd certainly win in the end."
"But these victories cost so, Father! said
Molly, throwing her arm over the horse's neck
and hiding her face against his glossy mane.
" 0 Duke, Duke! When will your master come
back to us?"
Duke had been champing his bit uneasily, but
at the sound of his mistress's voice, he became
instantly quiet. He turned his full, bright eye
on her and lowered his head until his nose
rubbed against her hand.
"Just look at the critter, Mother!" cried
Farmer Holley. I think he actually knows what
the girl is saying."
Edward wrote that there was a great scarcity
of horses in the army, and asked me, in case Duke
was needed for our Washington, if I would be
willing to give him up."
It would be rather hard to give up Duke. Eh,
Molly, girl ?"
"I would even part with him, if necessary. I
will do anything and everything that I can, for the
sake of our country," said Molly. "And dear old
Duke is fit to carry even so good and great a man
as Washington."
In a few moments the family was seated at the
table, and opening the big, leather-bound Bible,
Farmer Holley read a short chapter, followed by
the simple evening prayer.
The next morning, after breakfast was cleared
away, Molly said to her father:
I believe I '11 ride down to Middlesex church.
I don't like to miss one of Parson Mather's ser-
mons. They are a great comfort to me. And
I can see, too, whether the house is all right. I
can get there in time for the afternoon service,
and I'1l take Ruth with me for company."
Shortly before noon, Duke was brought to the
door, and so impatient was he, that he could hardly
wait for Molly and Ruth to mount. Off they went
at a rapid pace, through the gate and down the
old post-road, and Canaan Parish was soon left far
After a few pats and a little coaxing, Duke set-
tled down to a sober trot. A ride of six miles
brought them to Molly's house, and a glance told
them that all was safe. Then they came in sight
of the wooden meeting-house, with its stiff little
belfry. On one side was a dense swamp border-
ing the road. As they passed it, Ruth glanced
carelessly back, and her heart gave a great thump,
as she thought she saw a bit of red color and
a glitter as of sunshine on burnished steel.
She looked again, but there was nothing but an
unbroken wall of green leaves, so thick was the




growth of bushes and tangled vines. Her first
impulse was to tell Molly. Then she laughed at
her foolish fears. "I'm but a silly girl," she
thought; it was all imagination "
The bell was still ringing, and Molly went be-
hind the church, where the horses were fastened,
and tied Duke to a tree. Then she took Ruth

by the hand, crossed the
through the little entry
th ,.: ab:[, t,:, .t :'-!" --

porch, passed
and walked up
li l .. l ;:. .: .


F-- - '

- :


I 7

Surrender or die called a loud voice. Es-
cape is impossible, for both doors are guarded."
Three or four young men climbed out of the
windows, but the shots fired after them warned
others of the dangers of flight. With clanking
arms a number of British soldiers, led by some of
the Middlesex Tories, rudely entered the church
and proceeded to plunder the congregation. Silver
watches were taken, silver buckles were torn from
!:n.i.:-lI.r,.:..!.::, and shoes, and ear-rings were
r._u; li!, .-ir.i. I.ed from women's ears.
i:.i:lIr started up indignant, as a trooper
p,:.'r,-1 to the gold beads on her neck.
.i I thank ye for those gewgaws,
ma'am," said he.
Softly, softly, Mistress Pidgin,"
S exclaimed a neighbor; "re-

z'; it. --." .

L I t .~.

'u -I--- .'= ,- -
'N&7 A.


The young girl heard but little of the service.
She could not get that bit of red color and the
glitter in the swamp out of her mind. The
windows were open, and she found herself listen-
ing intently for every little sound, but sle heard
nothing except the singing of birds and the rust-
ling of the leaves, as the warm south wind gently
stirred the branches of the trees. But when Mr.
Mather, from his high pulpit perched beneath
the great sounding-board, began to read the
hymn, suddenly the words died away on his lips.
He closed his book and remained motionless, with
his eyes riveted on the open door.

distance is of no use." And Molly gave up the
Then she whispered to Ruth: "Keep close
by me, Little Sister! Do just as I do--keep
getting nearer the door-a step at a time--
without attracting attention. If I can only
save Duke!" The British tied the men, two
by two, and, amid the soldiers' jeers and hoot-
ing, the gray-haired minister was dragged from
the pulpit.
"Let the rebel parson lead the march," cried
one; "and hark ye, sirrah, step lively, or you '11
feel the prick of my bayonet-we must make





haste, or the whole town will be after us." he
added in a lower tone, addressing one of his
In the meantime, Molly and Ruth had reached
the door without being seen, and Mistress Pidgin
peeped out cautiously. The guard had left his
post to help lead the horses to the front of the
church. Most of them had been taken, but Duke
was still standing under the tree.
The two sisters darted down the steps, climbed
up on a stone fence, untied Duke, and mounted,
but had gone only a few yards when they en-
countered two men.
Stop cried one of them, seizing the bridle.
Molly bent over Duke, and patted him gently on
the neck. Then she raised her whip and brought
it down with all her might on his flank. He reared
wildly, and, with a furious plunge that would have
unseated a less skillful rider than Molly, he freed
himself from his captor, dashed across the green,
and, with ears laid flat against his neck and his tail
streaming out like a white banner, he darted like
an arrow up the road.
Ruth was partly thrown from the pillion, but
Molly's strong arm was around her, and her calm
voice sounded re-assuringly:
Pull yourself up to the pillion Never tear I
can hold you;" and even in that mad flight the
little girl was able to draw herself up to a secure
position. As they reached the top of a long hill,

Molly drew rein and looked back. A few mounted
men had started in pursuit, but Duke was too fleet
for them, and they had turned back.
O my brave Duke," said Molly; may you
always carry your rider as swiftly from danger as
you have carried us to-day "
Duke bore them swiftly up the old road to Canaan
Parish, and as soon as they reached home safely,
the alarm was given by the ringing of bells and
the firing of guns, and several of the men started
at once for Middlesex. But they were too late !
The prisoners had been carried across the
Sound, and from thence they were sent to the
prison-ships in New York Bay, where some of them
languished and died, and others, among them
Parson Mather, after a long delay, were returned
to their homes.
Meantime, Duke was sent to the headquar-
ters of the Continental Army, and it was the
proudest day of Molly's life when, soon after the
declaration of peace, she stood on a balcony with
Edward and the children beside her, and heard the
thunder of artillery, the ringing of bells, and the
wild cheers of the people. For, as she looked
up the street she saw, amid the waving of flags
and the fluttering of handkerchiefs, passing under
the triumphal arch, with proudly arched neck and
quivering nostrils, a magnificent gray horse, bear-
ing on his back that martial figure so well known
and loved-the noble Washington.





SIS Tov^S801^^ STR '^^

J^"""'T- T. ?1 o"~---G *^J: ^
^ 't~tc *T is^0^

-j~t* TkwTwRx


I-- ---- --
l.k--T.': was stunned by
the fall, but not seri-
ously hurt.
On coming to him-
Sself, he found that he
I was in a narrow dun-
geon, perhaps three
feet in diameter, which
smelled strongly of
-. _. damp and decay. He
." was sitting on a soft,
rotting mass of stuff,
which must have served to break his fall; his legs
were buried in it to the knees. He had a sense
of having been terribly wrenched and jarred, with
a sick and giddy feeling about the head.
The hollow was dark. He felt the rough, mold-
dering walls with his hands, and then looked up.
A round spot of light, which did not seem very far
above, showed the aperture by which he had been
If I had room enough to work in that narrow
part up there, I could get out," he said to himself.
For he had his knife in his pocket, and he be-
lieved he could cut foot-holds into wood sufficiently
solid to bear his weight.
"But it will take so long!" he thought. "I
shall starve first, or smother "- for he was feeling
the need of fresh air. /
His mind was quickly diverted from that project
by an incident. One could hardly expect to meet
with an adventure at the bottom of such a tube as
that; yet one happened to Gaspar.
As he was getting upon his feet, he felt some-
thing stir in the rubbish beneath him, and thought
of his scarlet tanager. He thrust down his hand
and seized something which was less like feathers

than fur, but loosed his hold instantly on receiv-
ing a bite in the thumb. The creature thereupon
scampered over his knees and darted across his
shoulder and down the back of his coat, with a
quick chipper which told plainly enough what sort
of companion he had in his dungeon.
A chipmunk !" he exclaimed. "Where did
the fellow go to? For all was still again in a
This trifling incident seemed important to the
prisoner, and it gave him hope. He reasoned:
It is not the habit of chipmunks to climb trees.
This one never came in at the top of the trunk; he
must have a hole somewhere down here. There
is probably an opening on one side as there is at
the roots of most hollow trunks."
If the squirrel had his summer home there, it
seemed strange that he had not run out of his
door when he saw so extraordinary a visitor com-
ing down the chimney. Some dislodged fragments
of the crumbling interior must have fallen, Gaspar
thought, and suddenly stopped the hole. Had
the frightened animal now dived down amongst
them to find his way out ? If so, they had closed
after him; for the prisoner could discern no glimmer
of light except what came in at the top.
His eyes growing accustomed to the obscurity,
he could see about all that was to be seen in that
dismal place. This was very little indeed; only
the dim outline of the litter beneath his feet, and the
walls consumed by the slow combustion of time.
He soon had out his knife, and began to chip into
them, quickly striking the rings of the hard wood
which supported the living branches.
My best chance," he said, "will be to find the
natural opening, if there is one." And he set
himself to search for that.
After poking awhile with his feet, he was re-
warded by seeing a faint gleam of light which did
not come in at the top. With fresh hope and joy,
he dug the rubbish away from it, and discovered a


narrow, jagged slit, apparently in the angle be-
tween two branching roots.
Exploring it with his hands, he found it not more
than three or -four inches in breadth and inclosed
by solid folds of wood and bark. But if it did not
promise immediate escape to the prisoner, it
offered what was almost as welcome, a prospect of
fresh air.
"If I can breathe," he said, "I will cut my
way out in time."
He burrowed still farther, throwing the rubbish
in a heap behind tlim; but could not find that the
slit enlarged as he went deeper. On the contrary,
it soon grew narrower, as if the two roots -if they
were two, originally-were crowded together at the
surface of the ground.
He could now look out and see the waning aft-
ernoon light on the dead leaves that strewed the
forest floor. He had not thought that he should
ever look upon that peaceful scene again; and as
he fixed his yearning eyes upon it, and drew the
fresh air into his lungs, a deep sense of gratitude
filled his heart, such as he had not felt in all his
life before.
He could not see the pine he had climbed, nor
the log on which he had left his gun; and he con-
cluded that they must be on the opposite side of
the hollow tree. The slant of the sunlight among
the forest stems, and the apparent falling away of
the ground in the direction of Bingham's swamp,
confirmed him in this opinion.
The first thing he did, after looking out and in-
haling fresh draughts of air, was to call again for
help. But now, as much of his voice as was not
muffled in the tree seemed to strike down upon the
earth, and to penetrate the forest no farther than
when he sent it straight up into the sky.
No use in my losing time this way! he said,
and at once set about enlarging the aperture with
his knife.
The decayed part of the bark was easily scraped
from the edges of the separated folds ; but hard
enough he found the green wood beneath. He
worked away at it with right good will, however,
knowing that the slightest splinter or shaving he
removed diminished by so much the barrier that
kept him from liberty and home.
For home meant liberty and happiness to him
now. How could he ever have scoffed at it, and
nursed a moody discontent, with the blessings he
enjoyed? Was it not his own fault that his father
had opposed the killing of birds, and the hunting
of nests and eggs, which had been so large a part
of his boy life; seeing him with those low asso-
ciates, in whose company he seemed to forget all
the love and duty he owed his parents and friends ?
He made slow progress, hurting his hand with

the short-bladed knife and on the-rough edges of
the wood. But still he worked away, and as he
worked, he thought:
Why was I never willing to do anything to
please them, while they were always doing so
much for me ? Why could n't I have seen that it
was only my good they thought of when they sent
me to school, and tried to have me keep better
company, and be industrious) and respectful, and
decent? Oh; what a fool I have been!"
Yes, he had been worse than a fool; he had
been headstrong in his selfish, thankless, often
cruel opposition to their wishes. All this he said
to himself, recalling many instances of his unwor-
thy conduct, and longing for freedom, that he
might begin life over again and redeem the past.
"What if I had died in this hole -what if I
should die here now leaving all my bad actions
to be remembered? The very last thing I did
was to disobey my father and break my promise to
School-master Pike; the last words I spoke to
Ella were mean and unjust! "
It was growing dark; the sunlight had disap-
peared from the boughs and stems, and deep
shadows were creeping over the solitary forest.
Occasionally he ceased cutting, to look out and
call, and listen. No voices answered, no footsteps
approached; nor was he much disappointed, for
he knew well that it was not yet time for his ab-
sence from home to excite alarm, and he was in
the most unfrequented part of the woods.
It would soon be quite dark; he must make the
most of what daylight was left. He expected
nothing else than that he must spend the night
where he was, with no near neighbors but the
katydids and owls. Supperless, lonesome, op-
pressed by the gloom, the odors of decay, and his
own terrors and regrets -the prospect was one to
make a better and braver boy shudder.
I shall work a part of the night, anyway; for
when 1 can't see, I can feel. Then when I am tired
out, I can perhaps sleep."
The night insects had struck up their monoto-
nous notes in the darkening woods; and now a
fine, incessant hum about his ears, with an occa-
sional sting on face or hands, gave warning that a
swarm of mosquitoes had found him out. He
could imagine them rising like a misty cloud from
Bingham's swamp, and dividing into two parties,
one of which filed in at the aperture where he was
at work, while the other poured down upon him
through the opening above. They interrupted
his work; how then could he hope that they would
let him sleep?
Fighting the invaders with one hand, he plied
his knife with the other, blistering his palm and
bruising his knuckles, but determined not to give



over his toil till he had made a hole that he could
squeeze his bodythrough, and get out of that terri-
ble place. The darkness closed in upon him; he
could no longer see where he thrust his blade.
Patience was not one of his virtues, and he was
growing desperate. The tough, green fibers would
not come away fast enough, and he began to work
off thicker chips, pressing and prying with the knife.


HAVING obtained possession of the fowling-piece,
Pete felt it a great grievance that he should be
obliged to give it up.
"He's dead, or run away; I don't see why
I can't hev it 's well 's anybody," he muttered, as


Suddenly something snapped. He uttered a
cry of dismay. The knife had but one whole
blade, and that had broken under his hand.
To the misery of the night that followed, was
now added the horrible apprehension that he might
not be traced to that remote part of the woods,
and that he was destined to perish in the hol-
low tree.
"But I can at least put my hand and some part
of my clothing out of the hole," he said; /'and
there is my gun, which will be found some time;
that will set people to looking hereabouts. But
perhaps it may not be found till long after I am
dead! "
He did not know that his gun had already
been carried off by the prowling Pete, while he
lay silent and stunned in the bottom of the hol-
low trunk.

he crawled into the bushes where he had con-
cealed the gun that Sunday afternoon. Might 's
well leave it here. B'sides, their' might be folks
in the woods that 'ud see me with it"
He persuaded himself that it would be well to
wait until night, at all events; in the meantime he
would not go home, but live on melons, which he
knew well enough where to find.
"What's become o' the feller, anyhow?" he
said, as he crept out of the bushes again, without
the gun. And that strange fascination which often
attends the wrong-doer led him to wander again
through the woods in the direction of Bingham's
He stopped often to look about him, and often
changed his course; but invariably his feet would
turn again, and his eyes look off toward the spot
where he had found the gun.



At last he came in sight of the log. Then he
stopped and sat down on a mossy root. After a
while he went on again, not directly toward the
log, but walking around it, wondering more and
more how the gun ever got there, and what had
become of its owner. The woods were strangely
still; and he was frightened at the thought of
Gaspar having shot himself and crawled away to
die, perhaps in some of the hollows of the great
He stopped to pick and chew a few fresh check-
erberry leaves; then, resolved not to be a coward,
having looked all about again to see that nobody
was in sight, he walked straight to the log.
He was still in a nervous tremor, looking first at
the ground for traces of Gaspar, and then peering
about in the silent woods, when all at once he
heard a voice.
Where did it come from ? It seemed quite near,
and yet there was nobody in sight. He looked up
into the trees, he looked all around again in the
quiet forest, with superstitious fear- waiting
quakingly until he heard the mysterious voice
again, then he took to his heels.
He ran like a deer, and never stopped until,
leaping over a ridge of rock, he came face to face
with a man. It was Mr. Pike, the school-master.
"Peter," he exclaimed, "you are the boy I was
looking for "
Wha' d' ye want o' me? said the breathless
Wait, and I '11 tell you," replied the master,
seeing the boy inclined to avoid him and continue
his flight. What were you running for?"
Jes' for fun-I dunno-sometimes I run, an'
sometimes I don't," stammered Pete. "Is n't any
law against a fellow's running is their' ? "
"No," said the master, sternly. "But there
are laws against some other things. Don't try to
get away You are going with me, or I am going
with you, whichever way it happens. But I prom-
ise to be your friend in this matter, if you '11 tell
me the truth."
"Truth 'bout what?"
"About Gaspar Heth."
"'Bout Gap Heth? gasped Pete, with wild
Yes; what has become of him? "
"Dunno what's become on him; I tol' ye so
last night."
"Well, then," said the master, laying hold of
his ragged collar, "tell me what has become of
his gun, and where you found it."
Pete glared up at him, pale and chattering with
fright. He did not know how much Mr. Pike knew
of the truth, and was afraid to utter a straightfor-
ward lie.

If you wont speak, then you and I go straight
to Squire Coburn's," and Mr. Pike started to lead
him off.
As Squire Coburn was the village justice, Pete
struggled and hungback; but at last he exclaimed:
"Lemme go, an' I '11 tell ye. I found the gun
on a log over yender by Bingham's swamp, but
Gap Heth wa'n't anywhere around, sure 's I'm
alive "
Come and show me the place," said the master.
Pete started, but presently hung back again.
I don't want to! he said. That 's what I
was running' away from -his ha'nt."
His what? Mr. Pike demanded, impatiently.
"His ha'nt. I heard it, jes' as plain! But
could n't see a thing. That's what.scairt me. I'm
awful 'fraid o' ha'nts "
"What do you mean by haunts?- Ghosts?
Do you imagine you 've heard Gaspar's ghost ?"
I know I hev! cried Pete.
Come along and show me the spot," said the
master. "If you heard Gaspar's voice, it was
Gaspar himself who called, and not his 'ha'nt.'
Come! for he must be in trouble."
Partly re-assured, Pete accompanied him; but
paused again before they had gone far over the
Ye can hear it now he said.
Mr. Pike listened a moment. "It is certainly
Gaspar calling he exclaimed; and, leaving the
reluctant Pete to his fears, he set out to run in the
direction of the voice.
Curiosity prompted Pete to follow at a safe dis-
tance. That 's the log! he shouted, as the
master paused, not knowing which way to turn;
"right afore ye "
The voice sounded again; and Mr. Pike, stand-
ing by the log, was as much puzzled at first as Pete
had been to decide whence it came. Proceeding
from the hollow tree, it was like the speech of a
ventriloquist; and one could imagine it almost
anywhere except where it was.
But instead of running away as Pete had done,
Mr. Pike called:
I hear you, Gaspar where are you? "
"In the hollow tree," replied the voice. "Come
around the other side."
The master had already seen far enough to assure
himself that Gaspar was not behind the tree. He
now obeyed the voice, and was more disturbed
than he had ever been in all his life, to see a
grimy hand thrust out of an opening in the bark.
If the voice was like ventriloquism, the appear-
ance of the hand was like magic.
"Why, Gaspar!" he cried, hastening to the
aperture, and seizing the hand as if to make sure
of it, how did you ever get in there ?"


"I slipped in at the top, trying to get a bird."
Gaspar spoke in a stifled voice, and as he could
not bring his mouth to the outer rim of the orifice,
it sounded almost as if the tree itself had spoken.
Mr. Pike looked up, and the manifest impossi-
bility of a boy's climbing that prodigious trunk
added to his bewilderment. But his eyes followed
the limb that curved across the top of the pine,
where he saw Gaspar's cap lodged; and he re-
quired no further explanation of the mystery.
Run as you would for your life! he said to the
staring Pete. "Bring the nearest farmer with his
ax. And get word to the Heths, if you have a
chance. Say that Gaspar is found-alive-in
a hollow tree "
Pete was off again in a moment, plying those
nimble legs of his.
You can stand it ten or fifteen minutes long-
er," Mr. Pike said, turning again to Gaspar.
"Oh yes," replied the prisoner, in feeble and
quivering accents. After a night and a day in
such a place as this, I sha' n't care for half an hour
more, if you wont leave me !"
"Poor fellow said the sympathizing master;
"how you must have suffered I wont leave you;
never fear."
It is strange how the voice of pity will some-
times stir depths of the heart which agony itself
could not reach. In all the wretchedness and
horror of his imprisonment, Gaspar had not wept
as he wept now that he was found and a friend
was speaking to him consoling words.
It has n't been very gay in here, he said,
checking his sobs, and trying to speak cheerfully.
"I'm nearly starved. And the mosquitoes-
you never saw such a place for mosquitoes! But
I don't care for anything now that you --" Here
his sobs choked him again.
Was there no way of getting out? Mr. Pike
"I might have cut my way out if I had n't
broken my knife. Then, this morning, I tried
climbing. The hollow is pretty large at the top
and bottom, but there is a spot I could n't get
through; it 's so narrow I had no chance to use
my legs and arms. Then I tried digging under
the trunk, but tore my fingers for nothing. There's
no under to it. You just go right down into the
hard roots." /
It 's one of the most astonishing adventures I
ever heard of exclaimed the master. I came
in sight of this place once, this morning, hunting
for you, but who would ever have thought of find-
ing you in a hollow trunk? I don't wonder Pete
Cheevy thought it was your ghost that called '?
"Did he?" said Gaspar, with a faint laugh.
I did n't know whether anybody would be hunt-

ing for me or not; I was afraid I might n't be
thought worth the trouble."
"What do you mean by that, Gaspar? "
Oh, you know what I mean said the voice
in the tree, breaking again. "I heard all your
talk with my mother that first day you called at
our house; and every word she said. to you was
true-only it was n't half the truth It took a
night.and a day in a hollow tree to bring me to
my senses, and show me what a worthless wretch
I have been. "
It required an effort for the master to control
his voice and reply, stooping to the dark aperture
within which he could hear sounds of weeping:
It will take more than that--it will take a
great many hollow trees and their lessons to con-
vince your mother and me that you are as worth-
less as you think yourself now. I told her then
that I was sure there was good in you which only
needed to be developed. "
I know you did; I heard you, said Gaspar.
"That's what made me like you. But I have
treated you as I have treated all my friends, and
I have got my pay for it. If I had n't broken my
promise to you about shooting birds, I should n't
have got into this scrape. What did my folks
say ?"
They have n't known what to say or think.
Your disappearance has been a terrible thing to
them. I believe your father concluded that you
had run away; but your mother feared something
worse had happened--that you had met with a
fatal accident. They passed a dreadful night, as
well as you, Gaspar "
"I suppose so.- I have thought of them a
thousand times," murmured the boy; "knowing
so well that I never was worth the least part of the
trouble I have caused them."
You may have had some reason to think so,"
said the master. But I trust we shall all have
reason to think very differently in the future."
I hope so! breathed Gaspar, devoutly. If
I did n't, I should wish never to get out of this
tree alive."


DURING the latter part of this conversation
between the boy in the hollow tree and the man
outside, the man began to look anxiously at his
watch. Ten-fifteen-twenty minutes passed;
and still no farmer came with his ax, and no
Pete re-appeared.
"Wont they ever come? said Gaspar, despair-
"They are a long while about it," replied the



master. If you can bear to have me leave you
a few minutes, I believe I can bring somebody, or
find an ax; it is n't far out of the woods on one
side." He consulted his watch again, adding:
"I have n't much confidence in that Pete."
"Oh, he will bring somebody, I 'm certain,"
said Gaspar. "Don't go It seems to me as if I
could n't be left alone again."
Wait! I hear shouts said the master. I
believe the men Peter sent have mistaken their
way and gone on the wrong side of the swamp."
He was right in his conjecture. He answered
the shouts, and the men answered back. And
soon the woods resounded with cries from other
directions, where men and boys who had caught
up the news that Pete had left on his way to
the village came hurrying to see Gaspar Heth
taken out of a hollow tree.
The voice of the school-master, standing guard
by his young friend, guided all comers to the
Place. And now appeared Pete himself with the
gun, and his father with an ax; and the two men
first named, who had lost their way, came strug-
gling through the swamp; and that spot in the
woods, which had been so silent and solitary a lit-
tle while before, became a scene of surprising
activity. Shouts answered shouts as other comers
appeared; the oddest guesses and comments were
made regarding Gaspar's situation; and every
one had to go and peep in at the narrow aper-
ture for a glimpse of his mosquito-bitten face or
his blotched and smeary hands.
However did he squeeze in through that leetle
hole ? said Simon Crabbe, the cobbler, who was
near-sighted as well as dull-witted, and who had
not yet taken in the significance of the tree's
broken top. Reminds me of a toad in a rock;
but they say a toad crawls in when he 's small,
and grows there."
Mr. Pike explained that Gaspar was climbing
after a bird; adding,-" Run up the tree there,
Pete, and get his cap; he will want it in a few
"After a bird!" said grim-looking old Dr.
Kent. "I thought we were going to put a stop
to this bird business. How is it, Mr. Pike? "
Mr. Pike appeared too busy just then to heed
the question.
"Stand back," he cried, "and make room for
the axes! "
The crowd drew back and the elder Cheevy
was the first to strike into the tree, making the
bark and chips fly into the faces of those who
remained too near. Although accounted a sort
of vagabond, lazy and shiftless in his habits, he
was athletic and handy with an ax; and now he
had a good opportunity to show his skill. The

first of the men from the swamp took a position
facing him, and offered to strike in on the other
side of the loop-hole he was enlarging; but old
Pete warned him off.
You '11 hinder more 'n you '11 help," he said.
(Hack! hack!) You jes' lay low with the rest
(hack!) an' you '11 see a hole 'n this 'ere shell 'n
half ajiffy (hack!) that ahoss'n cart could back out
of! (Hack, hack!) And off fell the great chips.
If it was a strange event to those looking on,
waiting to see a lost boy cut out of a hollow oak,
what was it to the boy himself, crouched beyond
the possible reach of the ax, watching every
stroke which opened wider the door of his prison
and let the broad daylight in ?
That will do! he called to the chopper. "I
can get out now."
But Cheevy did not mean that he should creep
"You 're go'n' ter walk out like a man!" he
said, ending, at last, with: Now, how 's that?"
as he drew back and poised his ax.
"All right!" And Gaspar leaped into the
light and air of the beautiful August afternoon.
" I 'm much obliged to you, Mr. Cheevy! I 'm
much obliged to you all for coming to see what a
fool I have made of myself! "
His eyes glistened and his voice was unsteady
as he received the congratulations and answered
the questions of friends crowding around. Sud-
denly he said, Excuse me and, to the amaze-
ment of everybody, walked back into the tree.
Have n't you had enough of it yet ?" cried the
master, looking in after him.
Quite enough and to spare," replied Gaspar.
But there 's one thing I must n't forget." And
he took down from the inner coating of the trunk
something he had fastened to it with a pin.
It was his scarlet tanager, found while he was
digging in the rubbish which had treacherously
flaked off and come down with him when he
slipped through the narrow part of the cavity.
I must keep this to remember this adventure
by," he said, with a rueful smile and a long
breath, as he once more stepped out of the tree,
and instinctively brushed the particles of decayed
wood from the brilliant plumage. Now where's
my gun? "
"Here 't is; I 've be'n keeping' on 't fer ye! "
cried young Pete Cheevy, springing forward with
alacrity. "An' here's yer cap that I jes' got out
o' the tree."
"Thank you very much for both, Pete said
Gaspar earnestly, as he put on the cap; while
Master Pike smiled significantly at old Pete, and
old Pete winked deprecatingly at Master Pike.
Then all the young fellows, and some of the



olier ones, had to take turns getting into the
hollow trunk, or at least putting their heads in;
"jes' so 's to see," as Cobbler Crabbe expressed
it, "how it must have seemed to the boy shet
up there for nigh about twenty-four hours."
Meanwhile grim old Dr. Kent looked hard at
the bird in Gaspar's hand, and repeated his still
unanswered question to Master Pike:
How is it about this bird-shooting? Did n't
I understand that we were all going to unite in
frowning it down and putting a stop to it? "

it. But let's be consistent; don't let us be re-
specters of persons. His father's a minister, and
a man we all respect, and a good friend of mine
besides; but if his son and I'd say the same if
he were mine is guilty of breaking the law we 've
pledged ourselves to see enforced, I don't see but
that we ought to make an example of him. It
will be a good beginning."
Your remarks are just," replied Master Pike.
" And though I think Gaspar has been punished
enough for a good many faults besides bird-shoot-

I -

r~~-- ..T


i '.
.-C -/I
-- .


ji '',


"Yes, I believe that was the 1,.d. :~a. ir., -.."
replied Master Pike.
And did n't we agree that we'd have tl{e first
boy that should break the law prosecuted ? That's
what was publicly given out as a notice and warn-
ing to all; was n't it?"
The school-master nodded a reluctant assent.
"Well," said the doctor, with an emphasis
meant to clinch his argument, I don't want to
mar the good feeling of a time like this. Gaspar
has been rescued from a bad fix, and I'm glad of

ing, I should n't object to seeing him prosecuted
and fined, if he had broken the law in this case.
But he has not."
Not broken the law ? cried the grim-featured
doctor, with that dead bird in his hand ? "
All eyes turned upon Gaspar, who was about to
speak, when the master forestalled him.
"No, Doctor; and a prosecution in this case
would n't hold water. Gaspar is an ornithologist,
or is going to be one; and he has a certificate
from the Natural History Society which allows



him to take birds for scientific purposes. Here
it is."
He took from his pocket the paper which he
was to have given Gaspar the night before.
It is dated, you see, two days ago; so that the
shooting of this tanager is a case exempt from the
action of the law."
"To be sure! to be sure! said the doctor;
while Gaspar stared with mingled feelings of
astonishment and gratitude.
You had it for me all the time, and to think I
did not know it! he said to Master Pike, on their
way out of the woods. "You are too easy with
me; for I really deserved to forfeit it for breaking
my promise."
I think," replied the master, indulgently, you
will keep your promises better in future."
He had good reason for such a belief; thence-
forward his influence over his pupil was com-
Before they emerged from the woods, they were
met by Minister Heth, who had heard the news,
and was hastening to the scene of the rescue. At
sight of his son, saved from a horrible fate, hag-
gard, famished, insect-bitten, with soiled andblood-
smeared hands, he forgot all his resentment, and
like waters from a broken dam his paternal love
gushed forth.

All he said, however, was simply,- in a voiVe
and with features which a strong will controlled,-
Gaspar is it you at last ? "
"Yes, what there is left of me! replied
Gaspar, with the same self-control. "How's
mother? "
"She will be better for seeing you, Gaspar! "
said the minister, his resolute voice beginning
to quaver and give way. Come, my boy "

What was left of him, after twenty-four hours in
a dungeon with remorse and fear and starvation
and mosquitoes-- Gaspar might well say that. He
had lost something which he could well spare; and
what was left was the better part of him, as his
conduct thenceforward, up to this date, has proven.
He has not yet chosen the career by which he is
to earn his living; but he is preparing himself for
usefulness by laying a broad foundation of knowl-
edge; and whatever work he may do in the world,
he means that the pursuit in which he still de-
lights the study of birds shallbe his recreation.
He has learned to stuff and mount his speci-
mens; and if you visit the family, you will see on
the parlor mantel-piece a beautiful sample of his
work, which, from the associations connected with
it, has an especial value in the eyes of his friends..
It is the Scarlet Tanager.



SPRITE, in leafy covert hid,
'Twixt your "did n't" and your "did,"
Simple folk are quite in doubt
What your talk is all about.

".Did" and "did n't" That's a clear
Contradiction, Katie dear;
One would think you scarcely knew
Any odds between the two.

"Did?" -but what? And where? And when?
"Did n't! "- There you go again !
Such a slippery little chit!-
After all, what matters it?

Who-do you imagine-cares,
Katie, for your small affairs?
Hold your peace; and, for the rest,
We '11 concede you did your best.

If you did n't, more 's the shame;
If you did, then where 's the blame?
So give o'er: You wont be chid
Though you did n't or you did.

Only,--your own counsel keep,
Letting honestpeople sleep.
If you did, then be it so;
If you did n't, let it go !



ourT T LTi de.

Burmb 7.UTP"3 o i weaker
Wel bu Ad \dur ou 'o ble v




^ ^ /l l.^




Now, my lads and lasses, we must hurry, or
we shall never empty this portfolio. Find easy
places, and I will read several to-night; we are so
early, there will be time enough," said Aunt
Elinor, as the flock settled down, ready, as usual,
for an unlimited supply.
Never mind about choosing. Take the first
that comes. We shall like it, whatever it is," an-
swered Min, twirling her wheel busily and with a
good deal of skill.
This is my one ghost story, and such a very
mild one it wont frighten anybody." And amid a
little stir of interest the reader began :

"Well, what do you think of her? She has
only been here a day, but it does n't take us long
to make up our minds," said Nelly Blake, the
leader of the school, as a party of girls stood chat-
ting about the register one cold November morn-
I like her, she looks so fresh and pleasant, and
so strong. I just wanted to go and lean up against
her, when my back ached yesterday," answered
Maud, a pale girl wrapped in a shawl.
I 'm afraid she 's very energetic, and I do hate
to be hurried," sighed plump Cordelia, lounging
in an easy-chair.
"I know she is, for Biddy says she asked for a
pail of cold water at six this morning, and she 's
out walking now. Just think how horrid !" cried
Kitty with a shiver.
S"I wonder what she does for her complexion.

I never saw such a lovely color; real roses and
cream," said Julia, shutting one eye to survey
the freckles on her nose with a gloomy frown.
I longed to ask what sort of braces she wears
to keep her so straight. I mean to, by and by; she
looks as if she would n't snub a body," and Sally
vainly tried to square her round shoulders, bent
with much poring over books; for she was the
bright girl of the school.
She wears French corsets, of course. Nothing
else gives one such a fine figure," answered Maud,
dropping the shawl, to look with pride at her own
wasp-like waist and stiff back.
She could n't move about so easily and grace-
fully if she wore a strait-jacket like you. She's
not a bit of a fashion plate, but a splendid woman,
just natural and hearty and sweet. I feel as if I
should n't slouch so much if I had her to brace
me up," cried Sally in her enthusiastic way.
I know one thing, girls, and that is she can
wear a jersey and. have it set elegantly, and we
can't," said Kitty, laboring with her own, which
would wrinkle and twist, in spite of many hidden
Yes, I looked at it all breakfast time, and for-
got my second cup of coffee, so that my head aches
as if it would split. I never saw anything fit so
splendidly in my life," answered Nelly, turning to
the mirror, which reflected a fine assortment of
many-colored jerseys ; for all the girls were out in
their fall suits, and not one of the new jackets sat
like that worn by Miss Orne, the new teacher who




had arrived to take Madame's place while that
excellent old lady was laid up with a rheumatic
"They are pretty and convenient, but I 'm afraid
they will be a trial to some of us. Maud and
Nelly look the best, but they have to keep stiff
and still or the wrinkles come. Kit has no peace
in hers, and poor Cordy looks more like a meal-
bag than ever, while I am a perfect spectacle
with my round shoulders and long, thin arms. A
jersey on a bean-pole describes me; but let us
be in the fashion or die!" laughed Sally, ex-
aggerating her own defects by poking her head
forward, and blinking through her glasses in a
funny way.
There was a laugh and then a pause, broken in
a moment by Maud, who said in a tone of appre-
hension :
I do hope Miss Orne is n't full of the new no-
tions about clothes, and food, and exercise and
rights and rubbish of that sort. Mamma hates
such ideas, and so do I."
I hope she is full of good, wise notions about
health and work and study. It is just what we
need in this school. Madame is old and lets things
go, and the other teachers only care to get through
and have an easy time. We ought to be a great
deal better, brisker, and wiser than we are, and
I'm ready for a good 'stirring-up' if any one will
give it to us," declared Sally, who was a very in-
dependent girl and had read as well as studied
"You Massachusetts girls are always raving
about self-culture, and ready for queer new ways.
I 'm contented with the old ways, and wish to be
let alone and 'finished off' easily," said Nelly, the
pretty New Yorker.
"Well, I go with Sally, and want all I can get
in the way of health, learning, and manners while
I herer, and I 'm really glad Miss Orne has come,
for Madame's old-fashioned 'niminy-priminy'
ways did fret me dreadfully. Miss Orne is more
like our folks out West-spry and strong and
smart, see if she is n't," said Julia, with a decided
nod of her auburn head.
"There she is, now! Girls, she's running!
actually trotting up the avenue-not like a hen,
but like a boy-with her elbows down and her
head up. Do come and see !" cried Kitty, dancing
about at the window as if she longed to go and do
All ran, in time to see a tall young lady come up
the wide path at a good pace, looking as fresh and
blithe as the goddess of health, as she smiled and
nodded at them so like a girl. that all returned her
salute with equal cordiality.
"She gives a new sort of interest to the old
VOL. XI.-44.

tread-mill, does n't she," said Nelly, as they scat-
tered to their places at the stroke of nine, feeling
unusually anxious to appear well before the new
While they pull down their jerseys and take up
their books, we will briefly state that Madame
Stein's select boarding-school had for many years
received six girls at a time and finished them off'
in the old style. Plenty of French, German, mu-
sic, painting, dancing, and deportment turned out
well-bred, accomplished, and amiable young ladies,
ready for fashionable society, easy lives, and entire
dependence on other people. Dainty and delicate
creatures usually, for, as in most schools of this
sort, minds and manners were much cultivated,
but bodies rather neglected. Heads and backs
ached, dyspepsia was a common ailment, and
"poorlies of all sorts afflicted the dear girls who
ought not to have known what "nerves" meant,
and who should have had no bottles in their closets
holding wine and iron, cough-mixtures, and cod-
liver oil for weak lungs. Gymnastics had once
flourished, but the fashion had gone by; and a
short walk each day was all the exercise they took,
though they might have had, in good weather, fine
rambles about the spacious grounds, and glorious
romps in the old coach-house and bowling-alley,
when it rained; for the house was in the suburbs
and had once been a fine country mansion. Some
of the liveliest girls did race down the avenue now
and then, when Madame was away, and one irre-
pressible creature had actually slidden down the
wide balusters, to the horror of the entire house-
In cold weather all grew lazy, and cuddled under
blankets and around the registers, like so many
warmth-loving pussies, poor Madame's rheumatism
causing her to enjoy a hot-house temperature and
to indulge the girls in luxurious habits. Finally,
she had been obliged to give up entirely and take to
her bed, saying, with the resignation of an indo-
lent nature:
"If Anna Orne takes charge of the school I
shall feel no anxiety. She is equal to anything."
She certainly looked capable as she came into
the school-room ready for her day's work, with her
lungs full of fresh air, her brain stimulated by
sound sleep, wholesome exercise, and a simple
breakfast, and her mind much interested in the
task before her. The girls' eyes followed her as
she took her place, involuntarily attracted by the
unusual spectacle of a robust woman. Every-
thing about her seemed so fresh, harmonious, and
happy, that it was a pleasure to see the brilliant
color in her cheeks, the thick waves of glossy hair
on her spirited head, the flash of white teeth as
she spoke, and the clear, bright look of eyes



both keen and kind. But the girls' most admiring
glances were bestowed upon the dark-blue jersey
that showed the fine curves of the broad shoulders,
round waist, and plump arms, without a wrinkle
to mar its smooth perfection.
Girls are quick to see what is genuine, to re-
spect what is strong, and to love what is beautiful;
and before that day was over Miss Orne had charmed
them all, for they felt that she was not only able
to teach but also to help and amuse them.
After tea, the other teachers went to their rooms,
glad to be free from the clatter of half a dozen
lively tongues, but Miss Orne remained in the
drawing-room and set the girls to dancing till
they were tired, then gathered them round the
long table to do what they liked till prayer-time.
Some had novels, others did fancy-work or lounged,
and all wondered what the new teacher would do
Six pairs of curious eyes were fixed upon her as
she sat sewing on some queer bits of crash, and
six lively fancies vainly tried to guess what the
articles were, for no one was rude enough to ask.
Presently she tried on a pair of mittens, and sur-
veyed them with satisfaction, saying as she caught
Kitty staring with uncontrollable interest:
These are my beautifiers, and I never like to
be without them."
"Are they to keep your hands white?" asked
Maud, who spent a great deal of time in caring for
her own. I wear old kid gloves at night after
putting cold-cream on mine."
I wear these for five minutes night and morn-
ing, for a good rub, after dipping them in cold
water. Thanks to these rough friends I seldom
feel the cold, always have a good color, and keep
well," answered Miss Orne, polishing up her smooth
cheek till it looked like a rosy apple.
"I 'd like the color, but not the crash. Must
it be so rough, and with cold water ?" asked Maud,
who often privately rubbed her pale face with a bit
of red flannel, rouge being forbidden.
It is best so; but there are other ways to get a
color. Run up and down the avenue three or four
times a day, eat no pastry, and go to bed early,"
said Miss Orne, whose sharp eye had spied out the
little weaknesses of the girls, and whose kind heart
longed to help them at once.
It makes my back ache to run, and Madame
used to say we were too old now."
"Never too old to care for your health, my
dear. Better run now than lie on a sofa by and
by with a back that never stops aching."
"Do you cure your headaches in that way?"
asked Nelly, rubbing her forehead wearily.
I never have them; and Miss Orne's bright
eyes were full of pity for all pain.

What do you do to help it ?" cried Nelly, who
firmly believed that it was inevitable.
"I give myself plenty of rest, air, and good
food. I never know I have any nerves except by the
enjoyment they give me, for I have learned how
to use them. I was not brought up to believe that
I was born an invalid, and I was taught to under-
stand the beautiful machinery God gave me, and
to keep it religiously in order."
Miss Orne spoke so seriously, that there was a
brief pause in which the girls were wishing that
some one had taught them this lesson and made
them as strong and lovely as their new teacher.
If crash mittens would make my jersey sit like
yours, I 'd have a pair at once," said Cordy, sadly
eying the buttons on her own, which seemed in
danger of flying off if their plump wearer moved
too quickly.
Brisk runs are what you want, and less con-
fectionery, sleep, and lounging in easy-chairs,"
began Miss Orne, all ready to prescribe for these
poor girls, the most important part of whose edu-
cation had been so neglected.
Why, how did you know ? said Cordy, blush-
ing as she bounced out of her luxurious seat and
whisked into her pocket the paper of chocolate
creams she was seldom without.
Her round eyes and artless surprise set the others
to laughing and gave Sally courage to ask, then
and there, what she had been secretly longing to
Miss Orne, I wish you would show us how to
be strong and hearty, for I do think girls are a
feeble set nowadays. We certainly need a 'stirring-
up,' and I hope you will kindly give us one. Please
begin with me, and then the others will see that I
mean what I say."
Miss Orne looked up at the tall, overgrown girl
who stood before her with the broad forehead,
near-sighted eyes, and narrow chest of a student;
not at all what a girl of seventeen should be
physically, though a clear mind and a brave spirit
shone in her clever face and sounded in her reso-
lute voice.
"I shall very gladly do what I can for you, my
dear. It is very simple, and I am sure that a few
months of my sort of training will help you much,
for you are just the kind( of girl who should have a
strong body to keep pace with a very active brain,"
answered Miss Orne, taking Sally's thin, inky
fingers in her own with a friendly pressure that
showed her good will.
"Madame says violent exercise is not good for
girls, so we gave up gymnastics long ago," said
Maud in her languid voice, wishing that Sally
would not suggest disagreeable things.
One does not need clubs, dumb-bells, and bars



for my style of exercise. Let me show you," and,
rising, Miss Orne went through a series of ener-
getic, but graceful evolutions, which put every
muscle in play without great exertion.
"That looks easy enough," began Nelly.
"Try it," answered Miss Orne, with a sparkle
of fun in her blue eyes.
They did try it, no doubt to the astonishment
of the solemn portraits on the wall, unused to such
anticsin that dignified apartment. But some ofthe
girls were out of breath in five minutes, and others
could not lift their arms over their heads. Maud
and Nelly broke several bones in their corsets try-
ing to stoop, and Kitty tumbled down in her efforts
to touch her feet without bending her knees. Sally
made the best motions, being easy in her clothes,
and full of enthusiasm.
Pretty well for beginners," said Miss Orne, as
they paused at last, flushed and merry. "Do that
regularly every day and you will soon gain a few
inches across the chest and fill out the new jerseys
with firm, elastic figures."
Like yours," added Sally, with a face full of
such honest admiration that it could not offend.
Seeing that she had made one convert, and
knowing that girls, like sheep, are sure to follow
a leader, Miss Orne said no more then, but waited
for the lesson to work. The others called it one
of Sally's notions, but were interested to see how
she would get on, and had great fun, when they
went to bed, watching her faithful efforts to imitate
her teacher's rapid and effective motions.
"The wind-mill is going cried Kitty, as-sev-
eral of them sat on the bed, laughing at the long
arms swinging about.
That is the hygienic elbow-exercise, and that
the Orne quickstep-a mixture of the grasshop-
per's skip and the water-bug's slide," added Julia,
humming a tune in time to the stamp of the
other's foot.
"We will call these the Jersey Jymnastics, and
spell it with a J, my dears," said Nelly; and the
name was received with as much applause as the
young ladies chose to give it at that hour.
Laugh on, but see if you don't all follow my
example sooner or later when I become a model
of grace, strength, and beauty," retorted Sally, as
she turned them out and went to bed, tingling all
over with a delicious glow that sent the blood from
her hot head to warm her cold feet, and bring her
the sound, refreshing sleep she so much needed.
This was the beginning of a new order of things;
for Miss Orne carried her energy into other mat-
ters besides gymnastics, and no one dared oppose
her when Madame shut her ears to all complaints,
saying, Obey her in everything, and don't trou-
ble me."

Pitchers of fresh milk took the place of tea and
coffee; cake and pie were rarely seen, but better
bread, plain puddings, and plenty of fruit.
Rooms were cooled off, feather beds sent to the
garret, and thick curtains abolished. Sun and air
streamed in, and great cans of water appeared
suggestively at doors in the morning. Earlier
hours were kept, and brisk walks taken by nearly
all the girls, for Miss Orne baited her hook
cleverly and always had some pleasant project to
make the wintry expeditions inviting. There
were games in the parlor, instead of novels and
fancy work, in the evening; shorter lessons and
longer talks on the many useful subjects that are
best learned from the lips of a true teacher. A
cooking class was started, not to make fancy
desserts, but the plain substantial dishes all house-
wives should understand. Several girls swept
their own rooms, and liked it after they saw Miss
Orne sweep hers in a becoming dust-cap; and
these same pioneers, headed by Sally, boldly
coasted on the hill, swung clubs in the coach-
house, and played tag in the bowling-alley on
rainy days.
It took time to work these much-needed
changes, but young people like novelty; the old
routine had grown tiresome, and Miss Orne made
things so lively and pleasant that it was impossible
to resist her wishes.
Sally did begin to straighten up after a month
or two of regular training; Maud outgrew both
corsets and back-ache; Nelly got a fresh color;
Kitty found her thin arms developing visible mus-
cles; and Julia considered herself a Von Hillern
after walking ten miles without fatigue.
But dear, fat Cordy was the most successful of
all, and rejoiced greatly over the loss of a few
pounds when she gave up over-eating, long naps,
and lazy habits. Exercise became a sort of mania
with her, and she was continually trudging off for
"a constitutional," or trotting up and down the
halls when bad weather prevented the daily tramp.
It was the desire of her soul to grow thin, and such
was her ardor that Miss Orne had to check her
sometimes, lest she should overdo the matter.
"All this is easy and pleasant now, because it
is new," she said; "and there is no one to criti-
cise our simple, sensible ways, but when you go
away I am afraid the good I have tried to do for
you will be undone. People will ridicule you,
fashion will condemn, and frivolous pleasures will
make our wholesome ones seem hard. Can you
be steadfast and keep on ?"
"We will!" cried all the girls; but the older
ones looked a little anxious, as they thought of
going home to introduce the new ways alone.
Miss Orne shook her head earnestly, wishing


that she could impress the important lesson indeli-
bly upon them; and very soon something hap-
pened which had that effect.
April came, and the snowdrops and crocuses were
up in the garden beds; Madame was able to sit at
her window peering out like a dormouse waking
from its winter sleep, and much did the good
lady wonder at the blooming faces turned up to
nod and smile at her, the lively steps that tripped
about the house, and the amazing spectacle of her
young ladies racing round the lawn as if they liked
it. No one knew how Miss Orne reconciled her to
this new style of deportment, but she made no
complaint, and only shook her impressive cap when
the girls came beaming in to pay little visits full
of happy chat about their affairs. They seemed
to take a real interest in their studies now, to be
very happy, and all looked so well that the wise
old lady said to herself:
Looks are everything with women, and I have
never been able to show such a bouquet of blooming
creatures at my breaking up as I shall this year.
I will let well enough alone, and if fault is found,
dear Anna's shoulders are broad enough to bear
Things were in this promising state, and all
were busily preparing for the May fite, at which
time this class of girls would graduate, when the
mysterious events to which we have alluded
They were gathered-the girls, not the events -
around the table one night, discussing with the deep
interest befitting such an important topic what
they should wear on examination day.
"I think white silk jerseys and pink or blue
skirts would be lovely, and so pretty and so appro-
priate for the J. J. Club, and so suitable for our
exercises. Miss Orne wishes us to show how well
we go together, and of course we wish to please
her," said Nelly, taking the lead, as usual, in
matters of taste.
Of course cried all the girls with an alac-
rity which plainly showed how entirely the new
friend had won their hearts.
"I would n't have believed that six months
could make such a difference in my figure and
feelings," said Maud, surveying her waist with
calm satisfaction, though it was no longer slender,
but in perfect proportion to the rest of her youth-
ful shape.
I 've had to let out every dress, and it 's
a mercy I 'm going home, if I 'm to keep on at
this rate; and Julia took a long breath, proud of
her broad chest, expanded by plenty of exercise
and loose clothing.
I take mine in, and don't have to worry about
my buttons flying off i la Clara Peggotty. I 'm

so pleased that I wish to be training all the time, for
I 'm not half thin enough yet," said Cordy, jump-
ing up for a trot around the room, that not a mo-
ment might be lost.
Come, Sally, you ought to join in the jubilee,
for you have done wonders and will be as straight
as a ramrod in a little while. Why so sober to-
night? Is it because our dear Miss Orne leaves us
to sit with Madame ? asked Nelly, missing the
gayest voice of the seven, and observing her friend's
troubled face.
I 'm making up my mind whether I 'd better
tell you something or not. I don't wish to scare
the servants, trouble Madame, or vex Miss Orne,
for I know she would n't believe a word of it,
though I saw it with my own eyes," answered
Sally in such a mysterious tone, that the girls with
one voice cried:
Tell us this minute !"
"I will, and perhaps some of you can explain
the matter."
As she spoke, Sally rose and stood on the rug
with her hands behind her, looking rather wild and
queer, for her short hair was in a toss, her eyes
shone large behind her round glasses, and her
voice sank to a whisper as she made this startling
I 've seen a ghost! "
A general shiver pervaded the listeners, and
Cordy poked her head under the sofa pillows with
a faint cry, while the rest involuntarily drew nearer
to one another.
Where ? demanded Julia, the bravest of the
On the top of the house."
Good gracious! "When, Sally? " What
did it look like?" 'Don't scare us for fun!"
cried the girls, undecided whether .to take this
startling story in jest or earnest.
Listen, and I'lI tell you all about it," an-
swered Sally, holding up her finger impressively.
"Night before last I sat studying till eleven.
Against the rules I know, but I forgot; and when I
was through, I opened my window to air the room.
It was bright moonlight, so I took a stroll along the
top of the piazza, and coming back with my eyes
on the sky I naturally saw the roof of the main
house from my wing. I could n't have been
asleep, could I? yet I solemnly declare that I saw
a white figure with a veil over its head roaming to
and fro as quietly as a shadow. I looked and
looked, then I called softly, but it never answered,
and suddenly it was gone."
"What did you do?" quavered Cordy in a
smothered voice from under the pillow.
I went right in, took my lamp, and marched
up to the cupola. But there was not a sign of any



one, all the doors were locked and the floor was
dusty, for we never go there now, you know. I
did n't like it, but I just said to myself: Sally, go
to bed; it's an optical illusion and serves you right
for studying against the rule.' That was the first
Mercy on us Did you see it again ? cried
Maud, getting hold of Julia's strong arm for pro-
Yes, in the bowling-alley at midnight," whis-
pered Sally.
Do shut the door, Kit, and don't keep clutching
at me in that scary way; it's very unpleasant," said
Nelly, glancing nervously over her shoulder as the
five pairs of wide-opened eyes were fixed on Sally.
"I got up to shut my window last night,
and saw a light in the alley,-a dim one, but
bright enough to show me the same white thing
with the veil going up and down as before. I'll
confess I was nervous then, for you know there is
a story that in old times the man who lived here
would n't let his daughter marry the lover she
wanted, and she pined away and died, and said
she 'd haunt her cruel father, and she did. Old
Mrs. Foster told me all about it when I first came,
and Madame asked me not to repeat it, so I never
did. I don't believe in ghosts, mind you; but what
on earth is it that I saw trailing about in that
ridiculous way ?"
Sally spoke nervously and looked excited, for in
spite of courage and common sense she was wor-
ried to account for the apparition.
"How long did it stay?" asked Julia, with her
arm round Maud, who was trembling and pale.
"A good fifteen minutes by my watch, then
vanished, light and all, as suddenly as before. I
did n't go to look after it that time, but if I see it
again, I '11 hunt till I find out what it is. Who will
go with me?"
No one volunteered, and Cordy emerged long
enough to say imploringly: "Do tell Miss Orne,
or get the police; and then she dived out of
sight again and lay quaking like an ostrich with
its head in the sand.
I wont! Miss Orne would think I was a fool,
and the police don't arrest ghosts. I'll do it my-
self, and Julia will help me, I know. She is the
bravest of you, and has n't developed her biceps
for nothing," said Sally, bent on keeping all the
glory of the capture to themselves, if possible.
Flattered by Sally's compliments, Julia did not
decline the invitation, but made a very sensible
suggestion, which was a great relief to the timid
till Sally added a new fancy to haunt them.
"Perhaps it is one of the servants moon-struck
orlove-lorn," said Julia. Myra looks sentimental,
and is always singing sentimental songs."

"It's not Myra; I asked her, and she turned
pale at the mere idea of going anywhere alone
after dark, and said the cook had seen a banshee
gliding down the garden path one night when she
had had the face-ache and had risen to get the
camphor. I said no more, not wanting to scare
them; ignorant people are so superstitious."
Sally paused, and the girls all tried not to look
" scared" or "'superstitious," but did not succeed
very well.
"What are you going to do ? asked Nelly, in
a respectful tone, as Julia and Sally stood side by
side, like Horatius and Herminius waiting for a
Spurius Lartius to join them.
"Watch like cats or a mouse, and pounce as
soon as possible," answered Sally. You must all
promise to say nothing; then we can't be laughed
at if it turns out to be some silly accident or mis-
take, as it probably will."
"We promise!" solemnly answered the girls,
feeling deeply impressed with the thrilling interest
of the moment.
"Very well; now don't talk about it or think
about it till we report, or no one will sleep a wink,"
said Sally, walking off with her ally as coolly as if,
after frightening them out of their wits, they could
forget the matter at word of command.
The oath of silence was well kept, but lessons
suffered, and so did sleep; for the excitement was
great, especially in the morning, when the watch-
ers reported the events of the night, and in the
evening, when they took turns to go on guard.
There was much whisking of dressing-gowns up
and down the corridor of the west wing, where our
six roomed, as the girls flew to ask questions early
each morning or scurried to bed at night, glancing
behind them for the banshee as they went.
Miss Orne observed the whispers, nods, and
eager congratulations, but said nothing, for Mad-
ame had confided to her that the young ladies
were planning a farewell gift for her. So she was
blind and deaf, and smiled at the important airs of
her girlish admirers.
Three or four days passed, and no sign of the
ghost appeared. The bolder openly scoffed at the
false alarm, and the more timid began to recover
from their fright.
Sally and Julia looked rather foolish as they
answered, No news," morning after morning, to
thi inquiries which were rapidly losing the breath-
less eagerness so flattering to the watchers.
"You dreamed it, Sally. Go to sleep and
don't do it again," said Nelly, on the fifth day, as
she made her evening call and found the girls
yawning and cross for want of rest.
She has exercised too much, and produced a
morbid state of the brain," laughed Maud.



I just wish she would n't scare me out of my
senses for nothing," grumbled Cordy; "I used to
sleep like a dormouse, and now I dream dreadfully
and wake up tired out. Come along, Kit, and let
the old ghosts carry off these silly creatures."
"My regards to the 'Woman in White' when
you see her again, dear," added Kitty, as the four
went off to laugh at the whole thing, though they
carefully locked their doors and took a peep out
of the window before going to sleep.
"We may as well give it up and have a good
rest. I 'm worn out and so are you, if you 'd own
it," said Julia, throwing herself down for a nap
before midnight.
I shall not give it up till I 'm satisfied. Sleep
away, I 'll read awhile and call you if anything
comes," answered Sally, bound to prove the
truth of her story if she waited all summer.
Julia was soon asleep, and the lonely
watcher sat reading till past eleven; then
she put out her light and went to take a turn
on the flat roof of the piazza that ran around
the house, for the night was mild and the
stars companionable. As she turned to come
back, her sharp eye caught sight of some-
thing moving on the house-top ,as before,
and soon, clear against the soft gloom of the
sky, appeared the white figure flitting to
and, fro. Ii
A long look, and then Sally made a rush
at Julia, shaking her violently as she said in
an excited whisper:
"Come she is there. Quick! upstairs to
the cupola! I have the candle and the key."
Carried away by the other's vehemence
Julia mutely obeyed, trembling, but afraid
to resist; and noiseless as two shadows they
crept up the stairs, arriving just in time to
see the ghost vanish over the edge of the I''
roof, as if it had dissolved into thin air.
Julia dropped down in a heap, desperately
frightened, but Sally pulled her up and led
her back to their room, saying, when she got
there, with grim satisfaction, "Did I dream it
all? Now I hope they will believe me."
"What was it? Oh, what could it be? whim-
pered Julia, quite demoralized by the spectacle.
"I begin to believe in ghosts, for no human
being could fly off in that way with nothing to
walk on. I shall speak to Miss Orne to-morro ;
I 've had enough of this sort of fun," said Sally,
going to the window, with a strong desire to shut
and lock it.
But she paused with her hand raised, as if
turned to stone, for as she spoke the white figure
went slowly by. Julia dived into the closet with
one spring. Sally, however, was on her mettle

now, and, holding her breath, leaned out to watch.
With soundless steps the veiled thing went along
the roof, and paused at the further end.
Never waiting for her comrade, Sally quietly
stepped out and followed, leaving Julia to quake
with fear and listen for an alarm.
None came, and in a few minutes, that seemed
like hours, Sally returned, looking much excited;
but she was sternly silent, and to all the others'
eager questions she would only give this myste-
rious reply:
I know all, but can not tell till morning. Go
to sleep."
Believing her friend offended at her base deser-
tion at the crisis of the affair, Julia curbed her

S~- ~ -- -- -' .. .. - __
curiosity and soon forgot it in sleep. Sally slept
also, feeling like a hero reposing after a hard-won
She was up betimes and ready to receive her
early visitors with an air of triumph, which silenced
every jeer and convinced the most skeptical that
she had something sensational to tell at last.
When the girls had perched themselves on any
available article of furniture, they waited with
respectful eagerness, while Sally left the room for
a few minutes, and Julia rolled her eyes, with her
finger on her lips, looking as if she could tell
much if she dared.
Sally returned, somewhat flushed, but very sober,




and in a few dramatic words related the adventures
of the night up to the point when she had left Julia
quivering ignominiously in the closet, and, like
Horatius, had faced the foe alone.
I followed till the ghost entered a window,"
she said, finally.
"Which?" demanded five awe-struck voices at
The last."
Ours? whispered Kitty, as pale as her collar,
while Cordy, her room-mate, sat aghast.
As it turned to shut the window the veil fell
back and I saw the face." Sally spoke in a whisper
and added, with a sudden start: I see it, now! "
Each girl sprang or tumbled off her perch as if
moved by an electric shock and stared about as
Nelly cried wildly:
Where? Oh, where? "
There 1 and Sally pointed at the palest face
in the room, while her own reddened with the
mirth she was vainly trying to suppress.
"Cordy ?"
A general shriek of amazement and incredulity
followed the question, while Sally could not help
laughing heartily at the dumb dismay of the
innocent ghost.
As soon as she could be heard, however, she
proceeded to explain:
Yes, it was Cordy walking in her sleep. She
wore her white flannel wrapper and a cloud around
her head,, and took her exercise over the roofs at
midnight so that no time might be lost. I don't
wonder she is tired in the morning after these dan-
gerous gymnastics."
But she could n't vanish off the house-top in
that strange way without breaking her neck," said
Julia, much relieved, but still mystified.
She did n't fly nor fall, but went down the lad-
der left by the painters. Look at the soles of her
felt slippers, if you doubt me, and see the red paint
from the roof. We could n't open the cupola win-
dow, you remember, but just now I ran out
and looked up and saw how she did it asleep,
though she never would dare to do it awake.
Somnambulists do dreadfully dangerous things,
you know," said Sally, as if her experience with
those peculiar people had been vast and varied.
How could I ? It 's horrible to think of. Why
did you let me, Kit? cried Cordy, uncertain
whether to be proud or ashamed of her exploit.
I never dreamed of your doing such a silly
thing, and never waked up. People say that
sleep-walkers are always quiet. But even if I had
seen you I 'd have been too scared to know you.
I'll tie you to the bed-post after this, and not
let you scare the whole house," answered Kitty,
regarding it all as a fine joke.

"What did I do when I got in, Sally? asked
Cordy, curiously.
You took off your things and went to bed, as
if glad to get back. I did n't dare to wake you,
and so kept all the fun to myself till this morning.
I thought I ought to have a good laugh for my
pains since I did all the work," answered Sally in
high glee at the success of her efforts.
I did wish to get as thin as I could before I
went home-the boys plague me so there-and I
suppose it weighed upon my mind and set me to
walking at night. I 'm very sorry, and I never
will do it again if I can help it. Please forgive
me, and don't tell any one but Miss Orne; it was
so silly," begged poor Cordy, tearfully.
They all promised, and then joined in comfort-
ing her, and praising Sally, and plaguing Julia;
and so they had a delightfully noisy and exciting
half hour before the breakfast bell rang.
Miss Orne wondered what made the young faces
so gay and the laughter so frequent, as mysterious
hints and significant nods went around the table,
but as soon as possible she was borne into the school-
room and was made to hear the thrilling tale.
Her interest and surprise were very flattering,
and when the subject had been well discussed, she
promised to prevent any further escapades of this
sort, and advised Cordy to try the Banting method
for the few remaining weeks of her stay.
I '11 try anything that will keep me from act-
ing ghost and making every one afraid of me,"
said Cordy, secretly wondering why she had not
broken her neck in her nocturnal gymnastics.
"Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Orne ?" asked
Maud, who did believe in them, in spite of the
comic explanation of this one.
Not the old-fashioned sort, but there is a mod-
ern kind that we are all afraid of, more or less,"
answered Miss Orne with a half-playful, half-serious
look at the girls around her.
Do tell about it, please," begged Kitty, while
the rest looked both surprised and interested.
"There is one which I am very anxious to keep
you from fearing. Women and young girls are
especially haunted by it. 'What-will-people
-say?' is the name of this formidable ghost,
and it does much harm; for few of us have
the courage to live up to what we know to be right
in all things. You are soon to go away to begin
your lives in earnest, and I do hope that whatever
I have been able to teach you about the care of
minds and bodies will not be forgotten or neglected
because it may not be the fashion outside our
little world here."
"I never will forget or be afraid of that ghost,
Miss Orne," cried Sally, quick to understand and
accept the warning so opportunely given.




I have great faith in you, dear, because you
have proven yourself so brave in facing phantoms
more easily laid. But this is a hard one to meet
and vanquish, so watch well, stand firm, and let
these jerseys that you are so fond of cover not only
healthy young bodies but happy hearts bent on
your becoming sweet, wise, and useful women in
the years to come. Dear girls, promise me this,
and I shall feel that our winter has not been wasted
and that our spring is full of lovely promise for a
splendid summer."

As she spoke, with her own beautiful face
bright with hope and tenderness, Miss Orne
opened her arms and gathered them all in to
seal their promise with grateful kisses more elo-
quent than words.
Long after their school days were over, the six
girls kept the white jerseys they wore at the break-
ing-up festival as relics of the J. J. ; and long after
they were scattered far apart, they remembered the
lessons which helped them to be what their good
friend hoped-healthy, happy, and useful women.



KING FROST comes and locks me up,
The sunshine sets me free;
I frolic with the grave old trees,
And sing right cheerily.

I go to see the lady flowers,
And make their diamond spray;
The birds fly down to chat with me,
The children come to play.

I am the blue sky's looking-glass,
I hold the rainbow bars;
The moon comes down to visit me,
And brings the little stars.

Oh, merry, merry is my life
As a gypsy's out of Spain!
Till grim King Frost comes from the North
And locks me up again.




~5 ~~zs
~;iE+ dl ~.--Lj-




--real In-
/,~~ dians-real,
"' i live Indians
-were what
we, like all boys, wanted
S to see, and this was why,
after leaving the railroad
on which we had been trav-
eling for several days and
nights, we found ourselves at
last in a big canvas-covered
wagon lumbering across the
monotonous prairie.
We were on our way to see
a celebration of the Fourth
of July at a Dakota Indian
It was late in the afternoon of a hot summer's
day. We had been riding since early morning, and
had not met a living creature-not even a bird or
a snake. Only those who have experienced it know
how wearying to the eyes it is to gaze all day
long, and see nothing but the sky and the grass.
However, an hour before sunset we did see
something. At first, it looked like a mere speck
against the sky; then it seemed like a bush or a
shrub; but it rapidly increased in size as we ap-
proached. Then, with the aid of our field-glass, we
saw it was a man on horseback. No, not exactly
that, either; it was an Indian chief riding an Indian
pony. Now, I had seen Indians in the East-
"Dime Museum Indians." I had seen the Indians
who travel with the circus -yes, and I had seen
the untutored savages who sell bead-work at Niagara
Falls; but this one was different- he was quite dif-
ferent. I felt sure that he was a genuine Indian.
He was unlike the Indians I had seen East. The
most striking difference was that this one presented
a grand unwashed effect. It must have required
years of patient industry in avoiding the wash-bowl,
and great good luck in dodging the passing showers,
for him to acquire the rich effect of color which
he displayed. Though it was one of July's hottest
days,-he had on his head an arrangement made
of fur, with bead trimmings and four black-tipped
feathers; a long braid of his hair, wound with strips
of fur, hung down in front of each ear, and strings of
beads ornamented his neck. He wore a calico shirt,
with tin bands on his arms above the elbow; a
blanket was wrapped around his waist; his leggings
had strips of beautiful bright bead-work, and his

moccasins were ornamented in the same style.
But in his right hand he was holding a most mur-
derous-looking instrument. It was a long wooden
club, into one end of which three sharp, shining
steel knife-blades were set. Though I had been
complaining of the heat, still I now felt chilly as I
looked at the weapon, and saw how well it matched
the expression of his cruel mouth and piercing eyes.
He passed on while we were trying to make a
sketch of him. However, the next day, an inter-
preter brought him around, and, for a small piece
of tobacco, he was glad to pose while the sketch was
being finished. We learned his name was Can-h-
des-ka-wan-ji-dan (One Hoop).
A few moments later, we passed an iron post set
firmly into the ground. It marked one of the

m 2

boundaries of the Indian Reservation. We were
now on a tract of land set aside by the United
States Government as the living-ground of sixteen
hundred Santee Sioux Indians. We soon saw
more Indians, who, like us, seemed to be moving
toward the little village at the Indian Agency.



Each group had put their belongings into a
big bundle, and strapped it upon long poles,
which were fastened at one end to the back of a
pony. In this bundle, the little pappooses rode in

,1 y | Ir ... i..

i like blackbirds peering
From a nest. In some cases, an older
c' hild would be riding in great glee
on the pony's back among the poles.
The family baggage seemed about
equally distributed between the pony and
the squaw who led him. She was pre
ceded by her lord and master, the noble red In-
dian, who carried no load except his long pipe.
The next thing of interest was
what is called a Red River wag-
on. It was simply a cart with two
large wheels, the whole vehi-
cle made of wood. As
the axles
are never _
oiled, the
carry all
keeps up a

n.i ,,,,

sa -.-

As we neared the Agency buildings, we passed
many Indians who had settled for the night. They
chose the wooded ravines, near streams, by which to
put up their tents, or tepees," which consisted of

m b*

.:n p.:'..: covered with patched and smoke-stained
,:....:i.. .!. th two openings, one at the top for a
smoke-hole and the other for a door, through
which any one must crawl in order to enter the
domestic circle of the gentle savage. We entered
several tepees, making ourselves welcome by gifts
of tobacco to every member of the family. That
night, after reaching the Agency and retiring to
our beds, we dreamed of smoking great big pipes,
with stems a mile long, which were passed to us
by horrible-looking black witches. But morning
came at last,- and such a morning!
That Fourth of July morning I shall
Never forget. We were awakened by the
most blood-curdling yells that ever pierced
the ears of three white boys. It was the
Indian war-whoop. I found myself in-
stinctively feel-
hair, and re-
gretting the
i .distance to the
A ,,, railroad. We

,li n*e ,i ..

" "-i',- ,: '... . ..--'
.. 4 l n e d in '--_

ing. This charming music-box was drawn by one doors in a rather terrified condition, untilwe found
ox, and contained an Indian, who was driving out that this was simply the beginning of the day's
with a whip. His wife and children were seated celebration. It was the "sham-fight"; but it looked
on the bottom of this jolting and shrieking cart. real enough, when the Indians came tearing by,




their ponies seeming to enter into the
excitement as thoroughly as their -
riders. There were some five hun-' '
dred, in full frills and war-paint, -
and all giving those terrible yells.' I '
Their costumes were simple, but .
gay in color-paint, feathers, and
more paint, with an occasional shirt.
For weapons, they carried guns, --
rifles, and long spears. Bows and. ,

A few had round shields on their left Ii ''- / '
arms. I
Most of the tepees had been col- i" ; I I,
elected together and pitched so as to '
form a large circle, and their wagons
were placed outside this circle so as
to make a sort of protection for the -
defending party. The attacking '. '
party, brandishing their weapons in -
the air with increased yells, rushed '- '
their excited and panting ponies up'" -' *
the slope toward the tepees, where. .A -
they were met by a rapid discharge ~.'l -
of blank cartridges and powder. ....
Some of the ponies became fright- .. : ,
ened and unmanageable, several .
riders were unhorsed, and general ",.-
confusion prevailed. The entrenched tj -
party, in the meantime, rushed out '. -__
from behind their defenses, climbing r'- "- -
on top of their wagons, yelling and -
dancing around like demons. Ad-
ded to this, the sight of several rider- AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT FOR THE NIGHT.

5v 2 1.-= -

-".-,-" ....^ ... ..,.,- -- .- e- -a .... --

I, ': -. -;
.- -- .. ., '.'*y, ^c.. ' -, -P,-, i "A v.- "I'-' ,

r ':I . .. ,7 _.
*-*- t ,- - ,, ,



less ponies flying wildly from the tumult made this
sham-fight have a terribly realistic look.
After this excite-
ment was over, the
S regular games which
had been arranged
for the day began.


Sthe costumes were
4.- ', slight that th
was nothing
[' A describe-si

ply paint in fancy patterns, moccasins, and
a girdle of red flannel. But how they could
run! I did not suppose anything on two legs
could go so fast. The la crosse costumes
were bright and attractive. The leader
of one side wore a shirt of soft, tanned
buckskin, bead-work and embroidery
on the front, long fringe on the shoul- ,I
ders, bands around the arms, and '-iji
deep fringe on the bottom of the skirt.
The legs
were bare
to th.:i i ,.:. ,-
from ti.i- .'
to th.: .- .
one n
of lir


glittering bead-work. In
SHA-KE-TO-PA, A YOUNG BRAVE. the game, there were a
hundred Indians engaged on each side. The game
was long, but exciting, being skillfully played.

The grounds extended about a mile in length.
The ball was the size of a common base-ball, and
felt almost as solid as a rock, the center being
of lead. The shape of the Indian la crosse stick
is shown in the sketch.
Then came games on horseback. But the most
interesting performance of the whole day, and one
in which they all manifested an absorbing interest,
was-the dinner.
At 3 A. M. several oxen had been butchered, and
from that time till the dinner was served all the
old squaws had their hands full. Fires were made
in long lines, poles placed over them, and high
black pots, kettles, and zinc pails filled with a
combination of things, including beef and water,
were suspended there, and carefully tend-
ed by ancient Indian ladies in pict-
uresque, witch-like costumes, who
gently stirred the boiling bouillon
with pieces of wood, while other
Seemingly more ancient and worn-
out-looking squaws brought great
bundles of wood from the ra-
vines, tied up in blankets and
swung over their shoulders.
Think of a dinner for
/ sixteen hundred noble
-_i chiefs and braves, stal-
wart head-men, young
V k bucks, old squaws, girls,
/ and children! And such
queer-looking children
S-some dressed in full
S war costume, some in
-'. i the most approved

.1 -<

I *

Y, r- A -.

r- dancing
One little boy,
.'--- whose name was
WOL Sha-ke-to-pa
WHO (Four Nails), had
five feathers-big ones, too--in his hair. His face
was painted; he wore great round ear-rings, and
rows of beads and claws around his neck; bands
of beads on his little bare brown arms; embroid-





ered leggings and beautiful rnoccasinc., tifulh, and repeatedly helped, the women and children,
and a long piece of red cloth i I o had been patiently waiting, were allowed to
ing from his waist. In fact, I-.: : ather about the fragments and half-empty pots
as gaily dress- and finish the repast, which they did with
ed as a grown- neatness and dispatch.
up Indian man, Then the warriors lay around and smoked
and he had a "N "' their long-stem pipes, while the young men
cunning little prepared for the pony races.
war-club, all I The first of these races was "open to all,"
ornamented and more than a hundred ponies and their
and painted. '' riders were arranged in a row. Some of the
When the dinner was ponies were very spirited, and seemed to fully
nearly ready, the men j realize what was going to take place, and they
began to seat them- would persist in pushing ahead of the line.
selves in a long curved Then the other riders would start their ponies;
line. Behind them, the then the whole line would
women and children have to be re-formed. But .
were gathered. When finally, they were all started,
everything was ready, and such shouting, and such 4- .
a chief, wearing a long l' waving of whips in the I
arrangement of feath- air!-and how the '
ers hanging from his 1 -
back hair and several /' ', I,
bead pouches across 3 f ,'..i r' '
his shoulders, with a /. ' n 'i /l' '" >i /.'' -- '-i
long staff in his left ,
hand, walked into the \ -"
center of the circle.- -
Taking a spoonful of A WAITRESS.
the soup, he held it WAIT
high in the air, and then, turning slowly around, little ponies did jump When the race was over,
chanting a song, he poured the contents of the how we all crowded around the winner, and how
spoon upon the grnnnd. This. an inter- -' proud the pony, as well as the
peter explained- r . u 1 ..r.. . .. 1 r. I,. .r, Now
pease the spirit ...I ... :r ." r' r.": '1 chance
this, the oldsqu r.-: h i.l. ... t:* : '-. p..- : than
1. ', i.--. and
) "' fl t^ l ". '^ .*^ :,.-;:-- '1"" .- very

t- Ii~ 't,.- I

1L ... A
,I''. / '1 }

'll,' ', ..' i .....__ *

nimbly around with the pails of soup and other such prices! Think of buying a beautiful three-
food, serving the men. After they were all boun- year-old cream-colored pony for twenty dollars !
-.. ii~j .i ...... I ,,,,. .,
kt .n1 "

food, serving the men. After they were all boun- year-old crearn-colored ponly for twenty dollars I


But as the hour of sunset approached, the inter-
est in the races vanished, and so did most of the
braves. They sought the seclusion of their bow-
ers, to adorn themselves for the grand "grass
dance," which was to begin at sunset.
What a contrast between their every-day dress
and their dancing costumes! The former consists
of a blanket more or less tattered and torn, while
the gorgeousness of the latter discourages a descrip-
tion in words; so I refer you to the pictures. Of
course, we were eager to purchase some of the
Indian finery, but it was a bad time to trade suc-
cessfully with the Indians. They were too much
taken up with the pleasures of the day to care to
turn an honest penny by parting with any of their
ornaments. However, we succeeded in buying a
big war-club set with knives, some pipes with
carved stems a yard long, a few knife-sheaths and
pouches glittering with beads, and several pairs of
beautiful moccasins,-most of which now adorn a
New York studio.
Soon the highly decorated red men silently
assembled inside a large space inclosed by bushes
stuck into the ground. This was their dance-hall.
The squaws were again shut out, as, according to
Santee Sioux custom, they are not allowed to join
in the dances with the men. The Indians, as
they came in, sat quietly down around the sides
01 r h .-: i .. .
uic. TI, ".I- -
s i. ,. ii'-_ _r,. . . . _. = _

:j .,f

, '^.','V,,",- .. ..

with short sticks, while they.
weird chant. The effect, to




gathered around

man's ear, was rather depressing, but it seemed
very pleasing to the Indians.
The hill was opened by an old chief,
I !... .. ,: I..-vly, beckoned the others
S r.. ,.I.. ..v In his right hand the
--.i.) l i.-! :.. irr. :d a wooden gun, orna-
-i_,,ted with eagles' feath-
F ... :,! in the left he held a
-! ... t stick, with bells at-
i. r,.:!.ed to it. He wore a
Sll ap of otter skin, from

I 4i' i5i "ij, '4' His face was carefully
i',l, '. painted in stripes of
ir' blue and yellow.
b' n At first, they all
'i moved slowly, jump-
if iA t ing twice on each
foot; then, as the
i musicians struck up
\ 1 I a more lively pound-
S i 'i ing and a more in-
spiring song, the
dancers moved with
AND EVERY-DAY more rapidity, giv-
CLOTHES. ing an occasional
I 'j shout and waving
'E1 -i their arms in the air.
-__._ ^ _" rl.c ti,; ._i r er

~ l .t h- -i
^, ;ns'i.c, i .,,,e

'i':.- ^ ':,' .j "!.. .'ii
0- : -' "

E :"f

a big drum, on tions on the drum
ihich they pounded and changed their singing into prolonged howls;
sang a sort of wild, then one of them, dropping his drum-sticks, sprang
an uneducated white to his feet, and, waving his hands over his head, he



yelled till he was breathless, urging on the dan-
cers. This seemed to be the finishing touch. The
orchestra and dancers seemed to vie with each
other as to who should make the greater noise.
Their yells were deafening, and, brandishing their
knives and tomahawks, they sprang around with
wonderful agility. Of course, this intense excite-
ment could last but a short time; the voices of the
musicians began to fail, and, finally, with one last
grand effort, they all gave a terrible shout, and
then all was silence. The dancers crawled back
to their places around the inclosure, and sank ex-
hausted on the grass. But soon some supple brave
regained enough strength to rise. The musicians
slowly recommended, other dancers came forward,

and the mad dance" was again in full blast.
And thus the revels went on, hour after hour,
all night, and continued even through the fol-
lowing day. But there was a curious fascination
about it, and, tired as we were after the long day,
we stood there looking on hour after hour. Finally,
after midnight had passed, we gathered our Indian
purchases about us, including two beautiful ponies,
and began our return trip toward the railroad and
civilization. But the monotonous sound of the Indian
drum followed us mile after mile over the prairie;
in fact, it followed us much better than my new
spotted pony.
My arm aches now, as I remember how that
pony hung back.

I \ i i
r ,, ,. _

^- -* '(, ..i I ,, r2

,..,' ?,, *;. ". -,, ,.
i' i
I, I I ~$,
,, 1!
Yyl Q

From an Algonquin Indian Story.*


I'M going to the garden
Where summer roses blow;
I'11 make me a little sister
Of all the flowers that grow;

I '11 make her body of lilies,
Because they're soft and white;
I '11 make her eyes of violets,
With dew-drops shining bright;

I'll make her lips of rose-buds, /
Her cheeks of rose-leaves red,

Her. hair of silky corn-tops
All braided 'round her head;

With apple-tree and pear leaves
I '11 make her a lovely gown,
With rows of golden buttercups
For buttons, up and down.

I'11 dance with my little sister
Away to the river strand,
Away across the water,-
Away into Fairy-land.

* Several of the Algonquin tribes have a legend of a girl who was made entirely of flowers.





THE children came scampering down the lane,-
" Mamma Gold-Robin 's come back again !
Of all the elm trees he likes ours best,-
Look, Mamma, look he is mending his nest! "

They pulled mamma to the open door,
' 0 yes," she said, "but I saw him before;
The very moment the beauty came,
I saw him flit like a living flame

" Hither and yon through the green leaves gay,
Till he seemed to add a light to the day;

And my very heart rejoiced to hear
His fairy bugling so deep and clear.

" There 's his pretty mate. See Up in the tree.
A soberer dress and cap wears she.
They've been at work here the whole day long,
Except when he stopped just to sing her a song.

" What a piece of good fortune it is, that they
Come faithfully back to us every May!
No matter how far in the winter they roam,
They are sure to return to their summer home."

696 -



The little ones capered and laughed aloud.
Of such a neighbor who would n't be proud?
See, how like a splendid king he is dressed,
In velvet black with a golden vest!

What money could buy such a suit as this?
What music can match that voice of his ?
And who such a quaint little house could build,
To be with a beautiful family filled ?

O happy winds that shall rock them soft
In their swinging cradle hung high aloft!
O happy leaves that the nest shall screen -
And happy sunbeams that steal between!

O happy stars of the summer night,
That watch o'er that delicate home's delight,-
And happy and fortunate children we,
Such music to hear and such beauty to see !



IN the early part of the year 1777,. the leaders
of the Revolution found themselves faced by new
and very perplexing embarrassments. It was re-
ported that General Burgoyne had arrived at
Quebec, purposing to advance from the North with
a strong support; hearing which, General Schuy-
ler, fearful that the enemy might capture Ticon-
deroga and then force their way to Albany,
strenuously called for reinforcements and supplies.
It was also reported that the British were active in
and around New York, having received large re-
enforcements composed partly of German mer-
cenaries. Early in June, Sir William Howe left
his head-quarters in New York, crossed the river
into New Jersey, and established himself at New
In the Continental Army, the terms of service of
many of the men who had enlisted for a year or
less were expiring; and they, anxious to be re-
leased from the severe duties of soldier-life, were
returning to their homes. Men were wanted to fill
up the ranks thus depleted, and the several States
were urged to furnish the recruits. General Knox
wrote, Nothing but the united efforts of every
State in America can save us from disgrace and
probably from ruin." To this appeal no State
responded more readily than Connecticut; and
when the great struggle was over, Washington
wrote, If all the States had done their duty as
well as the little State of Connecticut, the war
would have been ended long ago."
It was during these disheartening times/or, to
be exact, on the twentieth day of June, 1777, that
Richard Lord Jones, a boy who had but just passed
his tenth birthday, fired by the same spirit of patriot-
ism that animated the breasts of the lusty farmers
of that day, offered himself as a volunteer to serve
in the ranks for his oppressed country.
Richard was born at Colchester, Conn., on the
VOL. XI.-45.

fifteenth day of May, 1767. He enlisted at Hart-
ford, for the term of three years, in Captain James
Watson's company of the Third Connecticut Regi-
ment, commanded by Colonel Samuel B. Webb,
the father of the venerable General James Watson
Webb, and was the youngest enlisted person on the
pay-roll of the Army of the Revolution. He was im-
mediately placed under the charge of Band-
master Ballentine, and instructed to play the fife.
In a short time, he showed so much proficiency
that he was deemed one of the best fifers in the
About two months after Richard's enlistment,
he was sent to the regiment, at White Plains. After
remaining there a short time he, with the regi-
ment,went on up the Hudson to Peekskill, the head-
quarters of General Putnam, whose command em-
braced the fortified posts in the Highlands on both
sides of the river. On the sixth day of October,
1777, Forts Clinton and Montgomery, situated on
the west side of the river, were captured by the
enemy under Sir Henry Clinton. Putnam with
his troops on the east side, unable to render
timely assistance, after being under arms all
night, started early in the morning and retreated
up the Hudson, our young soldier breakfasting, be-
fore the start, on a hard biscuit and a slice of raw
pork. When opposite New Windsor, Putnam de-
tached one division of his forces under Governor
George Clinton, which crossed the river; while he,
with the other, continued up the east side to protect
the country from the ravages of the enemy, who had
removed the obstructions in the Hudson and were on
their way up the river. Dick, as he was familiarly
called, went with the troops under Governor Clin-
ton, who continued the march until within sight of
Kingston, which was found in flames, having been
fired by the enemy under General Vaughn, who
had preceded Clinton by a few hours.


During a halt on the way, the arrest of the
British spy, Daniel Taylor, was made. From Dick's
statement it appears that Sergeant Williams, of
Colonel Webb's regiment, and another soldier,
strolled away from the camp a short distance, and
fell in with two men, one of whom questioned the
sergeant as to who was in command. Upon the
sergeant's answering Clinton," the stranger said
that he would like to see him; whereupon Williams
conducted him to Governor Clinton's quarters.
On being presented to the Governor, the stranger
appeared confused, and said that this was not the
man he wished to see. He then swallowed has-
tily something which he put into his mouth. This
act immediately excited the suspicions of the Gov-
ernor, who called for a physician and had an emetic
administered which brought forth a small silver
bullet. Upon its being opened, a note was revealed
intended for the British general, Burgoyne, and
written by Sir Henry Clinton. It contained the
information that nothing but Gates was between
them." (General Gates was then in command of
the American forces farther up the Hudson). The
man who was captured supposed that he was in
the British camp, as Colonel Webb's regiment
wore a uniform similar to that worn by the Brit-
ish army; and he was also deceived by hearing
the name Clinton," believing it to be Sir Henry,
Commander of the British forces, instead of
Governor George Clinton, who was in command
of the Americans. Taylor was condemned as a
spy and executed.
At Hurley, a small village west of Kingston, the
regiment remained about two weeks. There the
news was received of the surrender of General
Burgoyne to General Gates, and also of the retreat
of the British on the Hudson to New York. The
regiment was then ordered to Norwalk, Conn., and
was soon after engaged in an enterprise, planned
by General Putnam, having in view the destruc-
tion of a large quantity of lumber on the east end
of Long Island, which was being prepared by the
enemy for their barracks in New York. General
Samuel M. Parsons was entrusted with the execu-
tion of the enterprise, aided by Colonel Webb,
who was to land near Huntington. Parsons suc-
ceeded in destroying the lumber and one of the
enemy's vessels, and returned safely with his entire
party unhurt and twenty of the enemy prisoners;
but Colonel Webb was not so fortunate, he having
encountered in his passage the British sloop of
war Falcon." Being in a common transportwith-
out guns, he could not offer battle or attempt a
defense; so he was obliged to steer for a creek on
Long Island. He reached it, but missing the
channel, the vessel struck on a bar at its mouth.
Colonel Webb and the captain of the vessel then

took to the small boat on the windward side, and
Dick was called for by the colonel, with whom he
was a great favorite ; but a stoutsbldier had already
taken him in his arms and was clambering over
the side of the sloop, when the small boat upset. The
surf was running high, but Colonel Webb caught a
rope on the lee side, and regained a footing on board
the vessel again. The captain swam the creek
and was rescued by some people on shore.
In the meantime the "Falcon" had anchored
and begun firing, and as there was no chance to
escape, the colors were struck and the enemy took
possession. When the tide permitted, the sloop
was floated off and taken to Newport, R. I., with
the colonel, four officers, twenty privates of his
regiment, and forty militia, all picked men.
Upon the arrival of the prisoners at Newport,
they were taken before a British officer for exami-
nation. The colonel being called forward was fol-
lowed by Dick, who was anxious to learn what his
own fate was to be. The British officer noticing
the little fellow at the heels of his colonel, sternly
"Who are you ? "
I am one of King Hancock's men," answered
Dick, straightening himself proudly.
"What can you do for him? asked the officer,
with a smile, and so strong an emphasis on the
"you that Dick answered defiantly:
"I can fight for him."
"Can you fight one of King George's men ?"
"Yes, sir," answered Dick promptly, and then
added, after a little hesitation, "if he is not much
bigger than I."
The officer called forward the boatswain's boy,
who had been curiously looking on; then turning
to the young continental, asked:
Dare you fight him ? "
Dick gave the Briton, who was considerably
larger than he, a hasty survey, and then answered:
Yes, sir."
Then strip," said the officer, and turning to
the British lad, "strip, and do battle for King
Both boys divested themselves of all superfluous
clothing as rapidly as possible, and went to work
at once, and in dire earnest. It was a "rough and
tumble fight; first one was on top and then the
other, cheered in turn by cries of, Give it to him,
King Hancock! and Hurrah for King George! "
It was a memorable encounter for both contest-
ants, but at last the courageous little rebel got
the better of his adversary. The young Briton
shouted enough," and was rescued from the
embrace of his furious antagonist.
With a generosity natural to great minds, but
seldom displayed during the War of Independence,




the British officer ordered the discharge of our
young hero, for his pluck, and he was set at
liberty. About the same time, Colonel Webb
was released on parole, and in company they left
on a small sloop for Providence, where horses were
procured on which they continued their journey to
Norwich. At this place they found Major Eben-
ezer Huntington, of their regiment, at the house
of his father. They journeyed on through Weth-
ersfield, and in less than a week Dick arrived


at his father's house in Hartford. After remain-
ing at home a short time, he rejoined his regiment
at West Point, which, owing to the loss of Forts
Clinton and Montgomery, the military authorities
had decided to fortify. Huts were built in the
upper edge of the bank, just below the point,
and here the winter of 1777 was passed. Earlyin the
spring of 1778, the regiment, under Kosciusko, built
Fort Webb, which formed a portion of the works
at that stronghold. A chain was stretched across
the river above the point, and a battery built at
each end, while Fort Clinton, situated on the
point, commanded the river.
In the early summer, the regiment was sent to
Providence, and thence to Tiverton, where it re-
mained for a short time. General Sullivan was in
command of the troops in Rhode Island at this
time, and our young hero was in all the engage-
ments on the island that had in view the recap-
ture of Newport, and which were unsuccessful in
consequence of the failure of the French fleet
under Count D'Estaing to cooperate with the con-
tinental forces.

The regiment wintered that year at Warren,
in the vicinity of Newport. In the spring of 1779,
the regiment was inspected by Baron Steuben.
During this period the men were mustered every
morning for exercise. As Dick was sometimes
late on parade, the fife-major threatened to send
a file of men for him on the next occasion of his
tardiness; and one morning, in accordance with
this threat, a corporal with a file of men escorted
him to the parade, amidst the merriment of the
soldiers, who hugely enjoyed
seeing three men escort the
AZt little lad to the parade ground.
At Warren the regiment re-
S mained until the British evac-
uated Rhode Island, on the
Stwenty-fifth day of October,
1779, when it was marched
S. to the island by way of Bristol.
S About two weeks were spent at
Newport, when it was ordered
westward. Passing through
Greenwich, Hartford, and New
S i Haven, it crossed the Hudson
River at Dobb's Ferry, and
brought up on the heights of
R 'Morristown, N. J., the head-
LAS. quarters of General Washing-
G ),i ton. The entire march of
about two hundred miles, over
rough and frozen ground, was
made by Dick with bare feet.
N TO RICHARD Soon after reaching Morris-
town, the regiment commenced
building huts, which were first occupied on the
twelfth day of January, 1780.
The winter at Morristown was one of unusual
severity, and aggravated the sufferings of the
army, which, for want of clothing and the necessities
of life, endured as much distress as was experi-
enced the previous winter at Valley Forge. For
days the army was without meat, and for weeks it
subsisted on half rations. In January, Washington
wrote: For a fortnight past the troops, both of-
ficers and men, have been almost famishing."
But with spring came encouragement and hope;
for Lafayette had returned from France with prom-
ises of renewed support.
A review by General Washington and his staff be-
ing anticipated, the officers of Colonel Webb's regi-
ment cut up their shirts into pieces the size of a collar,
and gave one piece to each soldier. At that time,
not a private soldier in the regiment had a shirt to his
back. The men made an appearance on that occa-
sion that was both ludicrous and pathetic, but they
acceptedwith proper pride the enthusiastic and ap-
propriate comments on their display of shirt collars.


Our hero, Dick, having a good voice, and being a
favorite among both officers and men, was brought
into prominence on several occasions, and it was at a
dinner party given in the month of May by Colonel
Webb to General Washington and staff, that the
most interesting incident in his army life occurred.
The colonel sent for him, and, after handing him
a small silver cup filled with wine, requested him to
sing a song. Dick drank the unfamiliar beverage
as if it were water, the result of which caused so
strangling a sensation, that immediate compliance
with the request was impossible. Upon Colonel
Webb's suggestion, he marched up and down the
room until the effect had passed away, and then
in his clear, boyish voice sang a patriotic song.
After the applause that followed the song had
subsided, the colonel directed Dick to go to
Colonel Jackson's hut, where Mrs. Washington and
other ladies were, and to tell Mrs. Washington
that Colonel Webb had sent him to sing her a
song. Dick obeyed orders, and at the conclusion
of his song received from Mrs. Washington, in
acknowledgment of her thanks, a three-dollar Con-
tinental bill. This bill was sacredly kept by Dick
until the day of his death, in loving remembrance
of the noble woman who gave it to him. It is now
the property of Major Richard Lord Annesley, of
Albany, N. Y., a grandson of the youthful patriot.
An engraving of one side of this bill is here pre-
sented. The following certificate concerning it was
written by the recipient of the bill, more than seventy
years after the date of its presentation to him:
The bill of three dollars, accompanying this, is a sample of the
currency of the United States during the War of the Revolution.
This bill was presented to R. L. Jones (the subscriber) by Mrs.
Martha Washington, at Colonel Jackson's hut, on the heights of
Morristown, New Jersey, in May, 1780-immediately after the
extreme hard winter, when Col. S B. Webb's Regiment, to which
he was attached, struck their tents and took possession of their huts,
January i2th,- snow two or three feet deep. He was then, when
the bill was received, just thirteen years of age, and just at the end
of his term of enlistment of three years,- supposed to be the
youngest person on the pay-roll of the army.
"NEW ALBANY, INDIANA, October I2th, 1850."
After the singing of the song, the officers joined
the ladies and started for a walk. When about
half-way down a long hill, they seated themselves
on some fallen trees, and Dick was again requested
to sing. Upon the completion of the song, they
arose, and an officer, accompanied by a lady,
beckoned Dick with one hand, while he placed the
other behind his back, from the open palm of
which Dick took three English shillings. The
officer was General Lafayette, who but a few days
before had returned from France.
A short time afterward, the regiment left the
huts, and was marched toward Springfield, where.
it was engaged in the action with the enemy under

General Knyphausen, on June 23. Prior to the
battle, on June 20, Dick's term of three years
expired, and he was honorably discharged. In
company with two men of his regiment, whose
terms had also expired, he started for home, walk-
ing the entire distance of nearly two hundred miles.

iIII iiIiffl' III lNglp ii

How pleasant were his anticipations of re-union
with loved ones, as he bravely plodded along the
highway and across fields until he reached his
father's home in Hartford!
At home All the long, cold winters of cruel
want lay behind, and before him rose the future,
bright with anticipations of prosperity and peace.
But the soldier-life of the boy became one of the
brightest memories to the old man, and, in his
last years, his greatest pleasure consisted in re-
counting the incidents connected with the days of
his soldierhood to a willing listener. After reach-
ing manhood, he engaged in the ,cotton-manufac-
turing business in his native State, which he
carried on successfully for a while; but the times
and he were out of joint. The war of 1812
brought him financial ruin. In the year 1818, he
moved west and settled at Gallipolis, Ohio. He
afterward became a farmer near New Albany,
Indiana, where he resided many years and where
he died July 23, 1852.





SLMOST all of my girl and boy friends
S are fond of good books; but I
have noticed that many of them,
when they have read a volume
through to the period at the end,
toss it quickly aside, and with-
out giving a second thought to
S the contents of its pages, hasten
away in search of some new enter-
tainment or occupation.
Now, I want to give a bit of
advice on this subject of reading,
S which I hope every reader of ST.
NICHOLAS will follow, for a few
weeks at least, so as to give my suggestion a fair
You all, of course, wish and intend to become
intelligent and well-informed men and women; it
is for this end that we all learn to read in the be-
ginning: in order, however, to succeed in our
ambition, we must not only know how to read, but
how to make use of what we read. And some
knowledge of the nature of our minds is a great
assistance in learning this important lesson. The
writings of all the learned men in the world could
not make us wise if our mental faculties were not
first trained to think, reason, and remember.
So here is my advice: After reading abook, or
an article, or an item of information from any re-
liable source, before turning your attention to other
things, give two or three minutes' quiet thought to

the subject that has just been presented to your
mind; see how much you can remember concern-
ing it; and if there were any new ideas, instruc-
tive facts, or points of especial interest that im-
pressed you as you read, force yourself to recall
them. It may be a little troublesome at first until
your mind gets under control and learns to obey
your will, but the very effort to think it all out will
engrave the facts deeply upon the memory, so
deeply that they will not be effaced by the rushing
in of a new and different set of ideas; whereas, if
the matter be given no further consideration at all,
the impressions you have received will fade away
so entirely that within a few weeks you will be
totally unable to remember more than a dim out-
line of them.
Form the good habit, then, of always reviewing
what has just been read. It exercises and dis-
ciplines the mental faculties, strengthens the
memory, and teaches concentration of thought.
You will soon learn, in this way, to think and
reason intelligently, to separate and classify different
kinds of information; and in time the mind, instead
of being a lumber-room in which the various con-
tents are thrown together in careless confusion and
disorder, will become a store-house where each
special class or item of knowledge, neatly labeled,
has its own particular place and is ready for use
the instant there is need of it.
Now, shut your eyes, and see if you can remem-
ber my advice.



A MAN who kept a store
Once wrote upon his door:

" Oh, I can make a pill
That shall ease ev'ry ill!
I keep here a plaster,
To prevent disaster;
Also some good ointment,
To soothe disappointment."

When customers applied,
These words are what he cried:

"Now, Patience is the pill
That eases ev'ry ill;
Take-care is a plaster,
Which prevents disaster;
Good-humor an ointment,
Soothing disappointment."






NEXT morning the sky was bright and clear.
The sun soon dried the grass, and the boys were
eager to be off after the game.
Uncle Charley and Mr. Marvin had arranged
for a hunt in a stretch of weed prairie lying about
a mile and a half west of the camp. One side of
this field was bordered by a luxuriant corn planta-
tion, another side by a wheat field.
Neil and Hugh, armed with the small-bore guns
belonging to Uncle Charley and Mr. Marvin,
stepped proudly and briskly along, listening to the
words of advice and caution which those kind gen-
tlemen were speaking for their benefit.
It was a beautiful sight to see the four dogs
ranging at a brisk gallop, each ambitious to scent
the first bird. Snip took the prize before reach-
ing the weedy part of the prairie, by coming to a
stanch stand on a high knoll where the grass was
very short and thin. In a moment the three other
dogs had backed him. Surely there are no birds
there," said Neil; we could see them; there's
nothing to hide them."
Hugh had nervously brought his gun to the po-
sition of ready." He was suffering from what is
called hunter's fever; his eagerness to get a shot
had overcome his nerves.
They all moved on in a row, keeping about ten
paces apart, Mr. Marvin at one end, Uncle Charley
at the other, and the boys in the middle; every
dog stood as rigid as a post.
A few more steps, and up rose a scattered flock
of birds- grouse, scarcely old enough to fly with
full power, but in excellent plight for market.
Uncle Charley fired right and left, bringing down
two; Mr. Marvin did the same. Neil killed a bird
at his second shot, but Hugh blazed away some-
what at random and did not touch a feather.

"Mark where they pitch down," exclaimed Mr.
Marvin; "they 're fine birds -just old enough to
suit the epicures." He was a little excited, too;
but he was quite deliberate, nevertheless.
At last the birds, rounding a little in their
course, settled into the weeds.
"Where's your game, Hugh ? said Uncle
Charley, as the dogs brought in the dead grouse.
"I think I missed," murmured Hugh.
Better luck.next time," remarked Mr. Marvin,
in a tone of encouragement. They all reloaded
their guns and started on at a brisk pace.
Presently they reached a fence that stood be-
tween them and the weed field. Mr. Marvin halted
and took the shells out of his gun.
"What are you unloading for?" asked Hugh.
I never climb over a fence with a loaded gun
in my hands," said Mr. Marvin; "a large number
of the dreadful hunting accidents are caused by
not observing this simple rule."
Hugh took out his shells, too, and by a side
glance saw Uncle Charley and Neil do likewise.
One of my best friends was killed by falling off
a fence with a loaded gun in his hand," Mr. Mar-
vin added. One can never be too careful."
The weed covert into which the game had gone
proved to be troublesome. The rich soil of the
prairie had sent up such a tall growth that Hugh
and Neil would have been lost in it, so they had
to stay on the edges of the thickest part while
Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley went in with the
dogs and flushed the grouse. Soon a lively firing
The boys banged away at every bird that came
near them. Neil was beginning to show some
skill, fetching down his game quite often and in
good style; but Hugh could not be patient and
painstaking enough.
The birds that escaped the guns went over into
the wheat-stubble and, scattering widely, offered a
chance for some good sport. Hugh took Snip and

* Copyright, 1883, by Maurice Thompson.



J ~;-


went to where he had marked down three of them.
The dog soon pointed one in a place where, owing
to some thick weeds, the wheat had been left
uncut. Hugh stopped for a minute to try to
steady himself, and then went slowly on, glancing
rapidly in every direction, for he did not know
just at what point the game would rise. Now, a
good sportsman never allows his eyes to wander at
such a time, but keeps them fixed steadily to the
front; in that way he can see a bird rise anywhere
within the space covered by even the dimmest part
of his vision. Then, too, he trusts to his ears to
warn him of the first flutter of a wing in the covert.
Hugh felt his heart beating rapidly, but he
kept himself fairly steady until he flushed the
bird. Then his gun flew up too quickly, and
he did n't wait to take aim. Of course he missed,
but he quickly recovered himself and did better
with the left barrel, bringing down the game. Snip
retrieved the bird and was fetching it in, when sud-
denly he stopped and pointed with the game in
his mouth. This was a very rare exhibition of scent-
ing power. Hugh flushed the bird from the stub-
ble and weeds. It rose almost vertically and flew
right over his head in the direction toward which
his back was turned. The shot was a difficult one at
best, but Hugh turned quickly and pulled first the
right-hand trigger, then the left-hand one. The
gun failed to fire. He looked, and found that he
had forgotten to reload! Snip seemed disap-
pointed. His eyes turned inquiringly toward
Hugh's face, as if to say: "That was a poor re-
sponse to my splendid performance Hugh ac-
knowledged to himself that here was another result
of his impetuosity and carelessness.
I shall learn something after a while, if I keep
on trying," he thought, as he opened the breech of
his gun and slipped in the shells.
Meantime, Neil had been having some fineluck.
His coolness and carefulness excited the admiration
of Uncle Charley and Mr. Marvin. In fact, he hit
nearly as often as he missed, and when the shoot-
ing was over, his game-bag held seven birds.



A FEW more days spent on the prairie in de-
lightful tramps and instructive conversation with
Mr. Marvin, and the hunt was ended. Uncle
Charley declared the time up, and gave orders to
have the tents struck and the wagons made ready
for the return to the village.
Before separating, however, Mr. Marvin and
Uncle Charley held a long consultation, the re-
sult of which was an arrangement for a winter's

campaign in the finest game regions of Georgia
and Florida.
Uncle Charley promised Neil and Hugh that he
would try to get their father to let them go along
with him.
"If he will let you go," continued Uncle
Charley, I will buy you each a good gun and
a complete outfit."
Hugh fairly bounded for joy, and Neil's face
grew rosy with his great delight.
They bade Mr. Marvin good-bye, with a great
hope of meeting him a month or two later; and
then, with their faces set toward home, they drove
off across the rolling prairie. Those had been
happy days, and the boys, all sunburned and ruddy
with health, were now anxious to get back to their
father and the young friends with whom they asso-
ciated in the village. Their mother had been dead
for some years; consequently, their father was
much more to them than a father usually is.
The boys' hearts jumped when at last the church
spires and painted roofs of the home village came
in sight.
As they drove up to the front gate of their
home, Mr. Burton saw them from his library
window, and came limping down the carriage-way
to meet them.
Why, you are almost as black as little Hotten-
tots he exclaimed, looking at their sunbrowned
"But we've had a glorious time," said Hugh.
I never did enjoy anything so much. And, Papa,
we wish to go home with Uncle Charley, and hunt
in the South this winter, and he 's going to buy us
guns and everything,- are n't you, Uncle Char-
ley ? "
I should think, from your looks, that you have
had hunting enough for one season, at least," said
Mr. Burton. "Have they been reasonably good
boys, Charles?"
Oh, yes," said Uncle Charley, "they have
behaved in a very creditable way. I am proud of
them. "
Weeks passed before Neil and Hugh were tired
of recounting to their young friends in Belair their
many pleasing and their few thrilling adventures
on the great prairie.
Neil, with his usual foresight and philosophical
prudence, fully believing that they would go South
with Uncle Charley and Mr. Marvin, sent for a
book on wing-shooting, and fellto studying it care-
fully. He also renewed his readings in natural
history. But Hugh was so full of fun and so rest-
less, that he avoided any close application to study.
I am resolved," said Neil, to know all I can
about the haunts and habits of game, as well as
about the best methods of hunting and shooting.


Whatever is worth knowing and doing is worth
knowing and doing well."
He also took an old blunderbuss out of the gar-
ret, and, although it had no lock, he used it to
practice aiming. This exercise accustomed his
hands, arms, and eyes to work in concert, a thing
of prime importance in wing-shooting.
Uncle Charley observed Neil's close application
to the study of the matter in hand, but he said
nothing. He knew that it meant success. He had
arranged with Mr. Burton for the boys to go South
with him, and had sent for their guns, which
were to be made to order. He had also agreed to
pay Mr. Marvin a sum of money sufficient to com-
pensate him for the loss of the autumn shooting on
the Kankakee, in order that he might go South
early enough to make everything ready for a whole
winter in the field.
Mr. Marvin came to Belair on the same day that
the boys' new guns arrived by express from New
York. Those guns were beauties, too, just alike,
weighing six and a half pounds each, sixteen-bore,
Damascus barrels, with low hammers and pistol-
grip stocks; in fact, the very finest little guns that
Blank Brothers could make.
You 're patriotic boys," said Mr. Marvin, after
examining the weapons; you go in for American
guns, do you ?"
I think our American work is quite equal to
that of the English now," said Uncle Charley,
and these guns are recommended as very close,
hard shooters."
So they are, and cheap. An English gun of
their grade would have cost at least three hundred
Are n't they beauties, though ?" cried Hugh,
dancing around with his gun in his hand. I 'm
going to name mine "Falcon," because it will be
such a bird-destroyer What shall you name
yours, Neil? "
"Mine shall be anonymous," said Neil, "but
it will do good work, all the same "
"When do we start to go South,Uncle Charley?"
queried the always impatient Hugh.
Some time next week, perhaps," was the re-
ply; "are you in a hurry ? "
Yes, indeed !" exclaimed Hugh, I want to
to be off just as soon as possible "
"The first thing to do is to target those new
guns," said Mr. Marvin.
"What is targeting a gun? inquired Hugh.
"I 'll show you," said Mr. Marvin. He took
some white sheets of printer's paper, large enough
to hold a circle thirty inches in diameter drawn with
a pencil. In the center of the circle he made a
small black spot.
"Now," said he, "we shall see what kind of

pattern the guns will make. If they are good or
bad we shall soon know it."
They took a dozen or so of these paper targets
and went beyond the town limits, where they placed
them one at a time against the side of an old
disused barn. Each barrel of the two guns was
fired at a separate target, at the distance of forty
yards, with shells loaded with three drams of pow-
der and one ounce of number-eight shot.
"These are most excellent guns," was Mr. Mar-
vin's decision, after giving them a careful test.
" See how evenly and close together they distrib-
ute their shot with the left barrels, and how
nicely the right barrels scatter the shot a little
wider. Yes, young gentlemen, you have first-class
But why are the right barrels made to scatter
wider?" inquired Hugh.
Because you shoot that barrel first and usually
at short range, while you keep your left barrel for
the second shot, which is nearly always at long
range," replied Mr. Marvin.
Neil had found this out long ago from his read-
All the boys in Belair soon discovered that Neil
and Hugh had fine guns, and this fact was the
subject of lively conversation among them. And
when the news of the proposed Southern trip leaked
out our young friends were the heroes of the vil-
Neil and Hugh had to answer hundreds of ques-
tions, and tell their plans over and over again to
their less fortunate playmates.
And so at length the time for their going


WHEN the time came for the departure for the
South, and everything had been packed and sent
to the railway station, Mr. Burton gave his boys
over into the care of Uncle Charley and Mr.
Marvin. His last words to Neil and Hugh were:
Be good boys, and be careful how you handle
your guns."
Quite a number of the playmates and school-
fellows of Neil and Hugh gathered at the station
to see them off. The boys promised to send them
specimens of birds, alligators' teeth, and other
trophies of their prowess.

It was on the eve of the second night following,
that they reached Uncle Charley's house, a large
building, set back some distance from a broad
country road in the midst of a grove of big
cedar trees. In fact, the place was known as The


Cedars," and the farm was one of the largest and
best in East Tennessee. The boys were given a
large, airy room, with a tall, high, old-fashioned
bed in it, as their own. A bright fire was burning
on the hearth of a broad-mouthed fire-place, and
an old colored woman, named Rhoda, came to wait
upon them.
Next morning before breakfast Uncle Charley
called them up to show them his kennels and
stables. He had a great number of fine dogs and
horses, of which he was very proud. Then he
showed them his fat cattle and his Cotswold sheep

Uncle Charley had a coal-black negro servant,
a boy about Neil's size, called Judge, who soon be-
came acquainted with the boys. He was a bright
fellow, whose mind was stored with all the queer
notions peculiar to Southern negroes. He at once
formed a great liking for Hugh, whose enthusiastic
temperament captivated him. The two began to
associate together a great deal, the negro taking
Hugh over all the big farm and pointing out many
places of curious interest- the cotton-gin, no
longer in use; the little corn-mill, with its big over-
shot wheel, beside a brook; the mill-pond, where in

7 0. ~t~

zf T

'e., iJ I1'
"- -~y~'' I ~ 4ib 'N~

i: ,I

Y '
r, P"~~

*-! ,i


and his drove of young mules. It was quite plain
that Uncle Charley was a thrifty and energetic
farmer. His house was on a hill, from which one
could see all over the broad rolling farm, consisting
of about a thousand acres of rich brown land, fenced
with cedar rails and under a high state of cultivation.
"You see I don't hunt all the time," said Uncle
Charley. "I have this big farm to oversee and
take care of."
I should think it would be a very delightful
business to take care of such a beautiful farm,"
said Neil, looking about on the clean fields and
well-kept flocks and herds.
"I like it very much," said Uncle Charley.
"It pleases me to see my crops of corn and wheat
grow and ripen and my cattle get fat and sleek.
After I have worked hard and have been success-
ful, then I can take my gun and go off for a long
hunt, feeling that I have earnedthe right to enjoy it."

summer judge went in swimming; the vast peach-
orchards, and many farm implements quite differ-
ent from those which Hugh had been accustomed
to see in the barns of farmers at the North.
Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley took time to
carefully arrange their plans and collect their
supplies for the winter. It was agreed that their
first hunting should be done in North Georgia,
where quail was plentiful and the facility for ship-
ping the game to a good market was all that could
be desired by Mr. Marvin.
There is one kind of shooting allowed in the
Southern States which is strictly forbidden in
most Northern and Western States, namely, dove-
shooting. Doves are great pests to the Southern
farmer. In autumn they collect in immense flocks,
and sometimes utterly destroy whole fields of peas;
so that the saying Innocent as a dove is not of
much force there, and the birds are often killed in




large numbers and sent to market, mostly by
negro hunters and trappers.
Neil and Hugh were extremely anxious to try
their new guns, and it chanced that one day a
grand flight of doves settled in one of Uncle Char-
ley's pea fields. This was a good excuse for the
boys. They seized their weapons and were off in a
surprisingly short space of time. Even Judge
brought forth a gun, and such a gun as it was! A
short, clumsy, big-bored affair, with only one bar-
rel and a flint-lock.
I think I 'd better go with the boys," said Mr.
Marvin, getting out his smaller gun; "they '11
need some watching and directing." And it
turned out that they did need very close watch-
ing; for Hugh and Judge went wild as soon as
they got among the doves, banging away in every
direction, and apparently not caring much who or
what was in the way. Neil and Mr. Marvin had to
be very careful to keep out of the way of danger.
Much to every one's surprise, Judge killed a greater
number of birds than either Neil or Hugh. He
used his old flint-lock with real expertness.
A funny thing happened to Hugh. He killed a
dove, which fell over in a little field where Uncle
Charley kept a fine English bull. The fence was
a very high one, but Hugh climbed over it and
ran to get his game. The bull, thinking he had
come to give it some salt, ran toward Hugh,
bellowing loudly.
The boy cast one wild, horrified glance at the
wrinkled face and sharp horns of the huge animal,
and then flung down his gun and ran back to the
fence, screaming at every jump. The bull followed
briskly, bellowing brokenly, until it came to where
Hugh's gun lay, then it stopped and began to bel-
low and to paw the earth with one of its fore feet.
Hugh climbed over the fence and stood peeping
through a crack, trembling and panting. The
bull was striking his gun with its foot and knock-
ing it about as if it were a straw.
Mr. Marvin, hearing the boy's wild screams,
ran to the spot as quickly as he could, but Judge
outran him and reached Hugh just in time to see
the bull break the stock of the gun short off at the
Judge did not stop at the fence, but scrambled
over it, and, rushing up, drove the bull away and
picked up the shattered weapon, which he brought
back to where Hugh and Mr. Marvin stood.
"Dat's a mighty much ob a pity, Mahs' Hugh,"
said the negro, rolling his big white eyes commis-
eratingly. "What yo' gwine to do 'boutdis purty
gun, now?"
Hugh could not speak. His voice stuck in his
throat, and his lips were purple with excitement
and distress.

Mr. Marvin looked very much disappointed.
He took the mutilated gun in his hands and
examined it in silence. Neil came up and joined
the solemn group.
"Why, what 's the trouble? he inquired.
De bull's smashed de young boss's new gun
all to bits," said Judge. He was just a-pawin' it
an' a-pawin' it when I got heah. Mahs' Hugh's
de 'fraidest boy I ebber see, an' dat 's a fac' "
"Well, the harm 's done," said Mr. Marvin,
"and it can't be helped now."
They formed a doleful procession as they
trudged homeward in silence across the fields.
Hugh felt that all his dreams of sport were at an
end. He looked at Neil's bright, clean gun, and
then at his own battered and broken weapon.
The tears would force their way out of his eyes in
spite of all he could do.
I suppose it is n't right to kill doves," he said,
at last, regretfully.
It is n't right to fling down a fine gun and run
away every time you hear a bull bellow!" ex-
claimed Mr. Marvin, rather gruffly. "I should
like to know what you 'd do if you should see a
bear or an alligator "
Dat chile 'ud jes' break his neck a-runnin',"
said Judge.
"I hate to have Uncle Charley know I have
broken my gun," muttered Hugh.
"De bull broke dat gun; you did n't break it,"
said Judge.
"I think it can be mended," remarked Neil.
"A gunsmith could put a piece of silver around
the broken place and fasten it so that it would be
nearly as nice as before."
Oh, do you think so? cried Hugh; Oh, but
I do hope it can be done! I will never be careless
again if I can have my gun all right once more."
Uncle Charley was surprised, but be spoke
kindly to Hugh, and said he would see what could
be done. Next day he took the gun away to a
neighboring town and left it with a gunsmith to
be mended. When it was brought back, the silver
splice had engraved upon it the following words:
"Always keep cool."
The work had been very nicely done, and the
weapon was really quite as good, and as pretty as
it had been before it was broken.
Hugh's spirits immediately revived, and he was
just as happy as ever.



IT was on a beautiful November day, almost as
warm as in September, that our friends started from
Uncle Charley's house to make an excursion into





North Georgia to shoot quail and wild turkeys, or
whatever other seasonable game could be found.
A big Tennessee wagon, covered with a roofing of
white cotton cloth, and drawn by two strong mules,
was to be the pack vehicle. It was driven and
managed by an old colored man named Samson,
whose hair and beard were like white wool. A
long-bodied hack, or road-wagon, with three seats
in it, and covered with oil-cloth, had been fitted
up for the hunters to ride in. Judge was to drive
this equipage, which was drawn by two of Uncle
Charley's beautiful work-horses. The dogs were
to go in the big wagon with Samson and the
The mountain region of East Tennessee and
North Georgia is one of the most charming coun-
tries in the world. The valleys are warm and
fertile, lying between high ranges of blue moun-
tain peaks and green foot-hills covered with groves
of pines and cedars, oaks and hickory-trees. The
air is pure and healthful and the water is the best
that cold mountain springs can afford. Vast tracts
of this region are so broken up with ravines,
abrupt hills, and rugged cliffs of rock, that they
are not fit for agriculture, and consequently are
not inhabited, save by hardy hunters, trappers,
or nut-gatherers. Here and there, in the wildest
parts of the mountain ranges, are found what are
called pockets "; they are small valleys, or dells,
walled in by the cliffs, and are usually garden-
spots of fertility, where are found families of settlers
who live peaceful, quiet lives, entirely shut away
from the rest of the world.
The first day after leaving Uncle Charley's farm,
our friends traveled about forty miles, reaching the
foot-hills of a range of mountains close to the
northern line of Georgia. They had crossed some
large streams and passed over some outlying
spurs of another mountain range, and were now
ready to begin the ascent of the lofty pile before
They pitched their tents beside a clear spring
just as darkness began to gather in the woods.
On one side of them rose a steep escarpment of
broken cliffs; in every other direction a dense for-
est of pines, undergrown with bushes and vines of
various sorts, stretched away gloomy and silent.
Judge built a fire while Samson was feeding the
animals, and then the two went to work/to get
supper. .They broiled slices of ham and baked
a hoe-cake, made a pot of coffee, and roasted some
potatoes and apples. The flaring yellow flames
from the pine-knots that Judge had put on the
fire threw a wavering light far out among the
dusky trees, and the black smoke rolled lightly up
among the overhanging boughs.
They all were very hungry. There is nothing

like the mountain air to whet one's appetite. Any
food seems to taste much better out in the woods
than it does at home.
I should think there might be bears in these
mountains," said Hugh, as he leisurely sipped his
coffee, and deer, too."
There are some deer, and there may be a few
black bears," said Uncle Charley, "but they are
too scarce and shy to be hunted with profit.
Wild cats are plentiful, however, in all this re-
"I should like to see a wild cat," said Hugh.
" What does it look like ? "
"Very like a common gray house-cat, only
two or three times as large, and it has a larger
head in proportion to its body and a short tail.
It is a savage creature and very dangerous at times.
The claws and teeth are long and sharp, and it is
very muscular and powerful."
"Do wild cats ever attack people?" inquired
Hugh, helping himself to another roasted apple.
"I have heard of such a thing, said Uncle
Charley, "and I should n't care to meet one at
close quarters, especially if it were wounded."
"I want to hunt something dangerous and
have some adventures worth talking about," said
"Why, your bull adventure was stirring and
dangerous enough, was n't it ? growled Mr. Mar-
vin over his plate of ham.
"That bull looked dangerous, anyhow; and
besides, if I 'd stood still and it had gored me, you
would have said I was foolish for not running."
"Yes, but you threw down your gun; that was
what I blamed you for," said Mr. Marvin. "It's
a rule among good soldiers never to drop their
guns. A hunter should follow the same rule."
When supper was over, they all sat in a circle
around the fire listening to hunting-stories by
Uncle Charley and Mr. Marvin. Even old Sam-
son crept up near enough to hear, while he smoked
his cob pipe with great show of satisfaction.
Mr. Marvin's best story was about a panther-
hunt in a jungle of the Florida everglades. He
was describing how, in the course of the hunt, he
chanced to come suddenly face to face with the
panther, which was crouching on a mass of boughs
and vines about ten feet above the ground.
"I was carrying a double-barreled gun," he
said, "of which one barrel was a rifle, the other
for shot. I saw the savage beast just as it was
making ready to spring upon me. I believe I felt
very much like doing as Hugh did when the bull
came bellowing toward him; but the trouble in
my case was that I could not run. I was hemmed
in by strong bushes and vines. So I summoned all
my nerve power and raised my gun to take aim.


Just as I did so the panther leaped straight toward
At this point in Mr. Marvin's narration, and as
if to sharply emphasize the climax, there came
from the woods right behind Hugh a wild shriek
altogether startling in its loudness and harshness.
Hugh sprang to his feet and leaped clear over the
Ugh! O-oh what was that? he cried, his
eyes seeming to start almost out of his head.
Old Samson laughed aloud and said: "Bress
yo', chile, dat nuffin' but an ole owl; he 's not
gwine ter hurt ye "
I think we '11 have to send you home, Hugh,"
said Uncle Charley; "you '11 never do for one of
our party if you keep on in this way."
Hugh crept back to his place, and Mr. Marvin
resumed his story:
I fired both barrels point blank at that brute
as it sailed through the air, and at the same mo-
ment I dropped flat upon the ground, thinking that
the panther would go beyond me before it struck.
But I reckoned wrongly; it came right down upon
me, almost crushing me. My legs were tangled
in some briery vines and my right arm was doubled
under me. The panther struggled terribly, tear-
ing the ground with its feet on each side of me,
uttering at the same time a sort of gurgling growl.
It was very heavy, and my position made its weight
seem double what it really was. I tried to throw
it off, but my strength was not sufficient. With
another hard struggle it died right there, lying
across my back. If my legs had not been so
badly tangled I could have got out from under the
dead brute. As it was, I could do nothing but lie
there and halloo. It was not the weight so much
as my cramped and tangled situation that held me
down. To add to the terror of my predicament. I
heard the panther's mate scream in the jungle
close by. My hunting companions were beating
about somewhere in the neighborhood, but I could
not hear them. I screamed like a steam-whistle, but
no answer came. It was then that I suddenly
realized the awful possibilities of my situation. If
my companions were out of hearing, how could I
ever get help ? As I lay there, I could see for some
distance along an opening in the undergrowth to
where a big cypress tree grew at the edge of a
little pond. The other panther leaped a few feet
up the bole of this tree and screamed again. That
was to me the most terrific sound I ever heard.
Just then it struck me that I must go systemati-
cally to work to free myself. I lay quite still for a
time, thinking. Then I began working my feet
out of the tangle of vines. It was hard work, but
I persevered and finally succeeded. Then by a
strong effort I freed my right arm and, turning my-

self a little, I rolled the panther off me. The next
thing I did was to load both barrels of my gun, for
I could now hear the other savage beast growling
close by in the jungle. Fear made me alert and
steady. Soon I saw a pair of eyes glaring at me
not more than two rods away. I took deliber-
ate aim and fired both barrels, sending a ball
and nine large buckshot to the spot between
those eyes. That was a great adventure for me. I
never have known another man who has killed two
full-grown panthers on the same day. My com-
panions had heard my firing, and came to me.
There lay my two royal enemies dead within a
few feet of each other and each shot in the face.
But from that day to this I never have had the
slightest desire to hunt panthers."
It was now time to go to bed, so Uncle Charley
ordered Samson and Judge to their wagon in
which they were to sleep.
Mr. Marvin rolled himself in his blankets and
lay down by the fire, a way of resting he preferred
to being cramped in a tent, especially when the
weather was so dry.
At about eleven o'clock the moon came up in
the East, filling the woods with a pale light that
flickered on the gray mountain cliffs like a silver
mist. The big horned owl that had so scared
Hugh came and perched itself upon the top of a
dead pine near the camp, giving forth now and
then its peculiar, wild cry. As it sat upon the
highest spire of the tree, it looked double its real
size, outlined against the clear gray sky. It would
turn its large head from side to side, as if keeping
a vigilant outlook for danger.
Hugh awoke from a sweet sleep and heard the
owl. He chanced to remember that his father had
long wanted a stuffed owl for his library. Why
would n't it be just as well to get this one for him?
Very slyly and quietly Hugh arose and put on
his clothes. Slipping his gun from its case and
loading it with heavy-shotted cartridges, he stole
noiselessly out of the tent. Every one else was
sleeping. Even Saimson's big yellow 'coon dog,
that lay under the wagon, did not seem to awake.
Hugh crouched and crept along under cover of
a small cedar bush until he got within long range
of the owl; then, taking aim as best he could, he
What a noise that gun did make in the still
forest The report went bellowing off in the dis-
tance, and then, flung back by some echo-making
cliff or hollow, returned with mellow, fragmentary
rattling. The dogs began to bark, the horses and
mules snorted, old Samson leaped out of his wagon,
Mr. Marvin sprang from his sound sleep beside the
embers of the fire. In fact, there was a general
alarm in the camp.






WHEN Hugh fired, the owl came tumbling down
from its lofty perch, flapping its wings as it fell.
That was a good shot, and Hugh felt a thrill of
gratification and pride as he saw the effect of it.
He ran to the spot where the great bird lay, and
hastily picked it up. Immediately he screamed
with pain and tried to drop it; but it had seized
his hand with its beak and talons and would not let
go. O 0 O !" he cried, "it's killing me !
it's killing me! 0, Uncle Charley Mr. Marvin !
come here, quick! "
The owl was not much hurt, the tip of one wing
having been broken. Its strong hooked beak and
its long talons were piercing Hugh's hand cruelly.
The pain was almost unbearable.
Mr. Marvin seized his gun and ran to the spot,
expecting to find a bear or a catamount tearing
Hugh to pieces. Uncle Charley, Neil and Samson
snatched up whatever weapon was nearest and
hurriedly joined Mr. Marvin.
But by the time they had all collected around
Hugh, he had choked the owl to death with his
free hand. The bird had given him some ugly
scratches, however, and his face looked ghastly
pale in the moonlight.
Fortunately no arteries or large veins had been
pierced by the owl's talons or beak. Samson, who
was not a bad doctor in affairs of this kind, bound
up Hugh's wounds, and they did not afterward give
him much trouble.
Next morning, Mr. Marvin skinned the owl and
packed the skin away for mounting.
The party resumed their journey, and at once
began following a zigzag road that led up the steep
side of the mountain they had to cross.
Neil preferred to walk. He was keeping a diary
of all that happened and of what he saw and heard.
Being nimble of foot, he was easily able to keep
ahead of the wagons, and whenever he saw a new
plant or tree or some rare bird, he would sit down
upon a stone beside the road, and write a descrip-
tion of it in his book. He could draw a little, too,
and he made sketches, as best he could, of such
objects and bits of landscape as he thought might
be interestingly described in a more comprehensive
account of their journey, which he meant to pre-
pare at his leisure.
There were not many birds on the mountain,
but Neil had a good opportunity to note the ap-
pearance and habits of the pleated woodpecker, a
bird very rare in the Middle and Western States.
It is next to the largest of American woodpeckers,
being nearly the size of a crow, almost black, with

a tall scarlet crest on the back of its head. The
mountaineers call it log-cock, because it is so often
seen pecking on rotten logs in the woods. It
makes its nest in a hollow which it digs in decay-
ing tree-boles.
When our friends reached the top of the mount-
ain, they found a fine grove of chestnut-trees
loaded with their opening burrs. Samson, Hugh,
and Judge gathered a large bagful of the nuts and
put them in the wagon.
Neil climbed to the top of a great stone-pile
from which he beheld a grand view of the surround-
ing country, for miles and miles. He could see
beautiful valleys and shining streams, cozy farm-
houses and scattering villages, while far off, against
the horizon in every direction, rose an undulating
line of blue mountains.
It was late at night when they reached a good
camping-place among the foot-hills on the Georgia
side. They all were very hungry and tired. The
smell of broiling bacon and steeping coffee soon
filled the dewy air. A small cold mountain-brook
bubbled along beside the tents, and not far off was
the log cabin of a family of mountaineers.
"We are near to the quail country, now," said
Uncle Charley, "and I think we may count upon
some good shooting to-morrow. The valley just
below us is covered with farms of growing wheat
and corn, and no one ever comes there to hunt."
But will the farmers let us shoot their birds? "
inquired Neil, who recollected the angry remonstra-
tions of some of the prairie folk against the shoot-
ing of grouse.
0, yes," said Uncle Charley; "these mountain
people are the most hospitable and accommo-
dating folk you ever saw. Their leading thought,
so long as we stay among them, will be to make
us thoroughly enjoy ourselves."
Samson announced supper. All were quite
ready to do justice to the meal he had prepared,
and they were busily engaged in eating, when
a man and two boys approached them, bearing
flaming torches made of long splinters of pitch-
"Hello, strangers, how d' ye do ? exclaimed
the man in a hearty, friendly voice.
Good evening," said Uncle Charley, very
"Seein' your fire down here, I thought that meb-
be you 'd like to join in a little fun up the hollow,"
said the stranger.
"Well, what is the fun?" inquired Uncle
My old dog Bounce has treed a coon up the hol-
low, and we 're just going to cut the tree. Can't you
come and go along? The man, as he spoke, took
an ax from his shoulder and rested it on the ground


by his feet. Don't you hear the dog baying?"
he added.
Sure enough, the hoarse mouthing of a cur came
echoing from the depths of the wood.
Ef you 're shoor dat it 's a coon," said Sam-
son, "why, den, I'd like ter go."
So would I! said Hugh.
"Well, it's a coon," said the man. "Old
Bounce does n't bark for anything but coons or
wild cats. It might possibly be a wild cat."
Mr. Marvin said he thought that he would go,
too, as he had n't seen a coon fight for a- great

many years. Uncle Charley,
Neil, and Judge preferred to stay %
at the camp. Neil wanted to write
a letter to his father before going
to bed. Uncle Charley was tired,
and Judge was sleepy.
The torches, as they were borne
away through the woods, made the
men and boys who kept within their
light look like restless specters. If
Neil had known what an exciting
event was about to happen, up in that little hollow,
he would not have stayed in camp, as he did. He
presently heard the sound of an ax ringing' on
solid timber, and, after a long while, a great tree
fell to the ground with a loud crash. Then there
arose a perfect bedlam of voices. The yelping
of a dog was mingled with shouts and screams
and a sound as of some savage animal snarling

and fighting. Uncle Charley sprang to his feet
and listened.
It is a wild cat," he said, "and it is 'punishing'
that dog terribly. Just listen! What a fight
they 're having "
They could hear Hugh's clear voice and Sam-
son's loud shouts mingling with the general din.
"Is there any danger? Do you think Hugh
will get hurt ? exclaimed Neil, whose first thought
was for the safety of his brother. Uncle Charley
did not at once reply. He was too much absorbed
in listening to the exciting racket.


Let's go to them," continued Neil; they may
need help."
It 's too far," said Uncle Charley; "we could
not get there in time to be of any service." And
even as he spoke, the noise began to subside.
"They 've killed it, or it has escaped," Uncle
Charley continued; "they 'll be coming back
directly. It must have been a hard fight while it




lasted, and very exciting, too, for I heard Marvin
yell loudly once or twice."
I wish- I had gone along," said Neil, moving
restlessly about; "I wouldn't have missed it for
If it was a wild cat, and I think it was," said
Uncle Charley, it must have escaped. I don't
think they could have killed it in so short a time.
There was n't a gun in the party, and I know,
from the way the dog howled, that the victory was
not due to him; he was whipped."
Why did n't Mr. Marvin and Hugh take their
guns? I never heard of such carelessness !" said
Neil, adding anxiously: "Perhaps some one of
them is badly hurt."
After long waiting, Uncle Charley and Neil at
last saw the flash of torches.



THE party of coon-hunters soon came up, all of
them more or less excited. The tall, strong
mountaineer carried a dead wild cat strung upon
a pole.
"Ah, you killed it, did you ?" exclaimed Uncle
Y-e-s, the boy killed it," replied the man; he
knocked it on the head with alight'd knot."
The man alluded to Samson whenhe said boy."
Southern men usually call colored men boys.
Mahs' Hugh ud 'a' been a gone chile ef I had
n't 'a' knocked de varmint," said Samson.
How was that? .demanded Uncle Charley,
with a look of alarm.
"Was it after Hugh ?" exclaimed Neil, excitedly.
Oh, it was a-bowsin' around an' a-snappin' an'
a-clawin', an' Mahs' Hugh he climb'd a tree up alit-
tle ways, an' de dog was a-howlin' at a great rate,
an' I was a-poundin' away at the varmint, an' it dim
de tree, too, an' nearly cotch up wid Mahs' Hugh
afore he got six feet high up de tree, an' Mahs' Hugh
he was a squeechin' powerful, an' den I whack'd it
on de head an' down it came Den dat dog he got
berry sabbage all to once, seeing' dat de varmint
wus kickin' its last, an' he got braver an' braver,
an' fell to fighting' it like mad. But dat varmint
had done gib-dat dog 'nuff fore dat, I tell ye "

Next morning, our friends descended into the
valley and pitched their tents among the fertile
A railway crossed the lower end of this valley,
where there was a small village and a station from
which Mr. Marvin could ship his game.
The camping-place was beside a deep, narrow
little river, or rivulet, the winding course of which
through the valley was marked by parallel fringes
of plane and tulip trees.
The farms were very rich, having that peculiar
sort of soil called mulatto," in which the famous
Georgia red wheat grows to such perfection as it
never attains elsewhere.
Here the blue jays, cardinal grosbeaks, brown
thrushes, and crested fly-catchers were found by
Neil. Gray squirrels, already growing scarce in
the Western States, seemed to be quite plentiful
in this region, and were the only small game hunted
by the farmers, whose long flint-lock rifles were
quite interesting to Neil and Hugh.
Judge was sent to the neighboring village, that
afternoon, to get some needed supplies, and to post
some letters, among which was a long one from
Neil to his father.
Since they had crossed the mountain and de-
scended into Georgia, they noticed a certain sweet-
ness and warmth in the air, and even at that late
season the sky had a summer-like tenderness of
color. Many of the deciduous trees still retained
their leaves, and the farmers were in the midst of
Neil and Hugh were surprised to see boys smaller
than Hugh plowing in the fields or "shucking"
Every one, old and young, seemed happy, in-
dustrious, and contented.
Most of the houses were built of split logs, with
no chinking in the cracks, and covered with clap-
boards. The chimneys were made of sticks of
wood built up pen-fashion and covered with mud
or clay.
In fact everything, even to the trees and the wild
flowers, was strange and interesting, especially to
Neil. The people were exceedingly kind and hos-
pitable, giving the hunters all the aid in their
And so their first quail-hunt promised to be all
that they could desire.

/ (To be continued )




GENERAL. GAGE had received early in the morning of April 19, 1775, the request for reinforcements. He
sent out twelve hundred men. They marched through West Cambridge, on their way to Concord. A little girl
named Nabby Blackington was watching her mother's cow while she fed by the roadside. The cow took her way
directly through the passing column, and the little girl, faithful to her trust, followed through the ranks bristling
with bayonets. The soldiers allowed her to pass. We will not hurt the child,' they said."

IN the Middlesex woods the south winds blew
'Round the pale anemones wet with dew;

And the great farm-orchards, amid their glooms,
Held the first faint scent of the apple blooms;

And fair with the young year's leafy green
Did the elm-boughs over the roadsides lean;

And the robins sang on that ancient day
The old, sweet songs that they sing each May.

And a little girl out on the lone highways
Watched the cow, in the sunshine sent to graze,-

Watched and wandered thro' light and dew
Of that April morning, where south winds blew; -

Till a something thrilled thro' the silence 'round,
And it seemed that a thunder shook the ground.

For she heard the hoofs of horses beat,
And the rhythmic tread of men's swift feet;

And a moment later, a wondrous scene
Was framed in the wide old turnpike's green;

For gay on the air the banners streamed,
The scarlet glittered, the bayonets gleamed,

Where the British column, twelve hundred strong,
On the Middlesex highway swept along.

For the troops that were marching to Concord
To mow-like a swathe-the rebels down,

Stood by the stone wall low and old,
While the long bright column before her rolled;

And it seemed to her wide and dazzled eyes
That the splendor dropped from the sweet spring

But the cow stopped munching the roadside grass,
And across the highway set out to pass,

Freely she roamed, where, broad and still,
The lush spring-pastures o'erspread the hill;

And straight in the hurrying column's face
She came with her slow and lumbering pace.

To follow the cow seemed a duty plain
To the girl's young heart and bewildered brain,

And she passed out quickly from the shade,
By the low stone wall, which the maples made;-

And out on the turnpike,. all alone,
And before the ranks where the bayonets shone,

A moment later, a creature slight,
She stood in the wondering army's sight,-

A sunbrowned girl, with small flushed face
And bright scared eyes, and the nameless grace

Of childhood hov'ring about her there;
And a glint of gold in the tumbled hair

Out of her sun-bonnet fallen down.
-So swift she came, so slight and brown,

Had seen the Lilies of Bourbon glance That under the soldiers' very eyes
On fields that had shivered the pride of France; There seemed for the moment an elf to rise.

And it seemed, to King George's veterans, play
To scatter the yeomen like chaff that day.

Then a rush of the sweet old memories fell
On their hard, fierce mood, like a sudden spell;

The girl stood still in the flickering shade And the sound of the wind among the trees
Which the fresh-leaved maples around her made,- Seemed the singing of thrushes across the seas;



And the glad green meadows of England spread
Where the Cambridge pastures had stretched

And the red wild rose of the English spring
Flushed the ancient lanes with its blossoming.

For the eyes in her brown face seemed to be
The eyes of his own child over the sea.

And the close-set lips thro' their sternness
As they spoke out: We will not hurt the child."

Ti 13
:7%6 Jr




And around the fields like drifting snow
The hawthorn hedges were all in blow.

The sign for the halt was quickly made,
And the girl to the column drew, half afraid:

Till the slight, scared girl, with the tumbled hair, For over her head the banners streamed,
To each soldier's gaze drew a vision fair; And all about her the bright steel gleamed;
VOL. XI.-46.


And she could not see, so swift she went, Tho' a hundred years have come and gone
What the smiles and the softened glances meant; Since the sun rose bright in that April dawn.

But safe thro' the bristling ranks she stept,
And calmly her onward way she kept.

But whenever the tales of the ancient strife,
And the forms of its heroes start to life,

And she joined the cow on the roadside brown, One picture will always come up to me;
While the troops marched on toward Concord town. The girl and the grazing cow I see,

Oft told in story and sung in song,
The deeds of that day to the world belong.

And the troops to the signal have halted swift,
And the plumes on the soft air gayly drift,

And the scenes of that time have power to thrill And the highway burns with the column's red,
The heart of a mighty nation still; As when "We will not hurt the child they said.



THE little fellow shown in the picture on the
opposite page deserves the name bird-mouse, be-
cause he hops about like a bird on the ground,
and has even been mistaken for one; yet in
shape and manners he is like a mouse.
He has four legs, but the two in front are held so
closely against his breast that they are hardly seen,
and he never uses them for getting about. He
walks on his hind legs alone. When in no
haste, he walks and runs on these two as easily as a
bird, not hopping, but putting one foot before the
other as you do; and if he is frightened or has
any need to go quickly, he simply brings the two
long legs up together, stretches his long tail out
in the position of a letter S laid on its side, with
the tip touching the ground, and goes off with
leaps as great, in proportion to his size, as those
of a kangaroo. So fast does he go, and so lightly
does he touch the ground when he comes down
between the leaps, that in rapid flight he looks
exactly like a bird skimming over the sand; and
nothing can catch him, not even a greyhound with
his marvelous leaps.
This pretty little creature lives in Africa, in the
hot sand of the desert, a place so dismal that he
has it nearly all to himself, for few animals can
endure it. He prefers it, however, perhaps for its
safety from enemies, and he digs out for himself
and his family a snug, underground house, con-
taining many passages, with little rooms here and
there, and in the deepest and safest corner of all, a
cozy nursery for the mamma-mouse and her babies.
In this quiet place the mother-mouse prepares a
soft nest, it is said by lining it with hair from her

own breast, and here she keeps safely her two or
three funny little mice till they are big enough to
walk about and hop off for themselves.
The little family is never lonely; for near at hand
are many other bird-mice, living in similar homes,
which are connected with one another by the pas-
sages, and so form in fact a real city under the
sand. To this safely hidden town there are many
doors; so that, if one is closed by any accident,
another may always be found by which to get in or
out; and once out on the ground, as I said before,
few enemies can catch him.
-One would think there could be no enemies to
fear in that far-off desert. There are not many;
but there is one,-the same who often makes him-
self the greatest enemy of all birds and beasts,
- man. The Arabs, who also live in the desert,
are very fond of the flesh of the bird-mice, and they
hunt the small burrowers by stopping up all but
one of the doors to a colony of nests. They then
gather around the one door left open, and thus
catch the little fellows as they come out.
This interesting animal is about six inches long,
or as large as a small rat. His coat is gray on the
back, and white underneath, or nearly the color of
the sand he lives in, He has large thin ears, and
great bright eyes.
His tail is nearly twice as long as his body, with
a thick tuft like a brush at the end. This tail is
of very great use to him, both in walking upright
and in his long leaps. If an unfortunate little
fellow loses this useful member, he not only can not
jump,-or, at least, is afraid to do so,-but he
can not even walk. When he tries to get up, he



rolls over on his side. It is as important for
steadying him as one of his legs.
I said that he walks, and runs, and hops, only
on two feet; and one of his scientific names,
Difpus, meaning two-footed, was probably given
him because of that fact. The hind feet are curi-
ous, having only three toes, and being covered
even on the soles with stiff hairs, so that we may
say that he is really protected from the heat by

fur boots. Under the hairs, too, he has many
elastic balls on the soles of his feet, so that he
does not hurt himself, however suddenly or weight-
ily he may alight upon the ground. /
It is almost impossible to keep this creature in
confinement, for he has powerful teeth and very
strong claws on those little fore feet, and he is able
to dig and gnaw through not only the baked earth,
but even thin layers of stone.

He can dig out his burrow whenever he likes,
and he is obliged to keep his digging tools in
good order, for his food consists mostly of roots.
But with all this hard work to do, his life is not
entirely confined to digging. He is a jolly little
fellow, and when the desert is silent and no cara-
van or wandering Arab is in sight, he comes out
of his house, basks in the hot sunshine, of which
he is fond, and plays and sports with his friends.

. W X

If a person can manage to hide himself, and
keep so still as not to be noticed, it is interesting to
watch the frolics of the pretty creatures when they
think no one is near.
I have called the little animal a bird-mouse, but
he is known generally by the name of Jerboa, and
his scientific name is Dipus AEgyfticus-or, as
we might freely translate it-The Egyptian two-



A. D. 1777.
[Afterward Major-General, and Lieutenant-Governor of
the State ofNew York.]

I QUESTION whether any of my. young readers,
however well up in history they may be, can place
the great River of Prince Maurice (De Riviere
Van den Voorst .1; .'. ), which, two hundred
years ago, flowed through the broad domain of the
lord patrons of Rensselaerswyck. And yet, it is
the same wide river upon the crowded shore of
which now stands the great city of New York; the
same fair river above the banks of which now tow-
ers the noble front of the massive State Capitol at
Albany. And that lofty edifice stands not far from
the very spot where, beneath the pyramidal belfry of
the old Dutch church, the boy patroon sat nodding
through Dominie Westerlo's sermon, one drowsy
July Sunday in the summer of 1777.
The good dominie's seventhlyy" came to a
sudden stop as the tinkle of the deacon's collec-
tion-bell fell upon the ears of the slumbering con-
gregation. In the big Van Rensselaer pew it
roused Stephanus, the boy patroon, from a de-
lightful dream of a ten-pound twaalf, or striped
bass, which he thought he had just hooked at the
mouth of Bloemert's Kill; and rather guiltily,
as one who has been "caught napping," he
dropped his two "half-joes" into the deacon's

" fish-net "- for so the boys ir-
reverently called the knitted
bag which, stuck on one end of
a long pole, was always passed
around for contributions right in the middle of the
sermon. Then, the good dominie went back to his
seventhlyy," and the congregation to their slum-
bers, while the restless young Stephanus traced
with his finger-nail upon the cover of his psalm-
book the profile of his highly respected guard-
ian, General Ten Broek, nodding solemnly in
the magistrate's pew. At last, the sands in the
hour-glass, that stood on the queer, one-legged,
eight-sided pulpit, stopped running, and so did the
dominie's "noble Dutch"; the congregation filed
out of church, and the Sunday service was over.
And so, too, was the Sunday quiet. For scarcely
had the people passed the porch, when, down from
the city barrier at the colonie gate, clattered a hur-
rying horseman.
"From General Schuyler, sir," he said, as he
reined up before General Ten Broek and handed
him an order to muster the militia at once and re-
pair to the camp at Fort Edward. St. Clair, so
said the dispatch, had been defeated; Ticonderoga
was captured, Burgoyne was marching to the
Hudson, the Indians were on the war-path, and
help was needed at once if they would check
Burgoyne and save Albany from pillage.
The news fell with a sudden shock upon the
little city of the Dutchmen. Ticonderoga fallen,
and the Indians on the war-path! Even the most
stolid of the Albany burghers felt his heart beat-
ing faster, while many a mother looked anxiously

* Copyright, 1883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.





at her little ones and called to mind the terrible
tales of Indian cruelty and pillage. But the young
Van Rensselaer, pressing close to the side of fair
Mistress Margarita Schuyler, said soberly: "These
be sad tidings, Margery; would it not be wiser for
you all to come up to the manor-house for safety?"
For safety ?" echoed high-spirited Mistress
Margery. "Why, what need, Stephanus? Is not
my father in command at Fort Edward? and
not for Burgoyne and all his Indians need we fear
while he is there So, many thanks, my lord pa-
troon," she continued, with a mock courtesy;
"but I 'm just as safe under the Schuyler gables
as I could be in the Van Rensselaer manor-house,
even with the brave young patroon himself as my
The lad looked a little crest-fallen ; for he regard-
ed himself as the natural protector of this brave lit-
tle lady, whose father was facing the British invaders
on the shores of the Northern lakes. Had it not
been one of the unwritten laws of the colonie,
since the day of the first patroon, that a Van Rens-
selaer should wed a Schuyler? Who, then, should
care for a daughter of the house of Schuyler in times
of trouble but a son of the house of Rensselaer ?
Well, at any rate, I shall look out for you if
danger does come," he said, as he turned toward the
manor-house. "You 'll surely not object to that,
will you, Margery ? "
Why, how can I ? laughed the girl. I cer-
tainly may not prevent a gallant youth from keep-
ing his eyes in my direction. So, thanks for your
promise, my lord patroon, and when you see the
flash of the tomahawk, summon your vassals like
a noble knight and charge to the rescue of the
beleaguered maiden of the Fuyck."* And, with a
stately good-bye to the little lord of seven hun-
dred thousand acres, the girl hastened homeward
to the Schuyler mansion, while the boy rode in the
opposite direction to the great brick manor-house
by the creek.
Twenty-four miles east and west, by forty-eight
miles north and south, covering forest and river,
valley and hill, stretched the broad colonie of
the patrons of Rensselaerswyck, embracing the
present counties of Albany, Rensselaer, and Col-
umbia, in the State of New York; and over all this
domain, since the days of the Heer Killian Van
Rensselaer, first of the lord patrons, father and
son, in direct descent, had held sway after the man-
ner of the old feudal barons of Europe. They
alone owned the land, and their hundreds of tenants
held their farms on rentals or leases, subject to the
will of the patronsns" as they were called,-a
Dutch adaptation of the old Roman fatronus,
meaning patrician or patron.
Only the town-lands of Beverwyck, or Albany,

a territory stretching thirteen miles north-west, by
one mile wide along the river front, forced from an
earlier boy patroon by the doughty Peter Stuyve-
sant, and secured by later English governors, were
free from this feudal right; and at the time of
our story, though the old feudal laws were no
longer in force and the rentals were less exacting
than in the earlier days, the tenantry of Rensse-
laerswyck respected the authority and manorial
rights of StephenVan Rensselaer, theirboy patroon,
who, with his widowed mother and his brothers
and sisters, lived in the big brick manor-house near
the swift mill creek and the tumbling falls in the
green vale of Tivoli, a mile north of the city gate.
And now had come the Revolution. Thanks to
the teaching of his tender mother, of his gallant
guardian, and of the good Dominie Westerlo, young
Stephen knew what the great struggle meant- a
protest against tyranny, a blow for human rights,
a defense of the grand doctrine of the immortal
Declaration that All men are created free and
equal." And he had been told, too, that the success
of the Republic would be the death-blow to, all the
feudal rights to which he, the last of the patrons,
had succeeded.
Uncle," he said to his guardian, that stern
patriot and whig, General Abram Ten Broek,
"you are my representative and must act for me
till I grow to be a man. Do what is best, sir, and
don't let the Britishers beat "
But, remember, lad," said his uncle, the Rev-
olution, if it succeeds, must strip you of all the
powers and rights that have come to you as pa-
troon. You will be an owner of acres, nothing
more; no longer baron, patroon, nor lord of the
manor; of no higher dignity and condition than
little Jan Van Woort, the cow-boy of old Luykas
Oothout on your cattle farm in the Helderbergs."
"But I'll be a citizen of a free republic, wont
I, Uncle? said the boy; "as free of the king and
his court across the sea as Jan Van Woort will be
of me and the court-leet of Rensselaerswyck. So
we'11 all start fair and even. I'm not old enough
to fight and talk yet, Uncle; but do you fight and
talk for me, and I know it will come outfall right."
And so, through the battle-summer of 1777, the
work went on. Men and supplies were hurried
northward to help the patriot army, and soon Gen-
eral Ten Broek's three thousand militia-men were
ready and anxious for action. The air was full of
stirring news. Brandt and his Indians, Sir John
Johnson and his green-coated Tories, swarmed into
the Mohawk Valley; poor Jane McCrea fell a
victim to Indian treachery, and the whole northern
country shuddered at the rumor that twenty dol-
lars had been offered for every rebel scalp. And
fast upon these came still other tidings. The

* The Fuyck, or fishnet,-an old Dutch name for Albany.


noble General Schuyler, fair Mistress Margery's
father, had, through the management of his ene-
mies in the Congress and the camp, been super-
seded by General Gates; but, like a true patriot,
he worked just as hard for victory nevertheless.
Herkimer had fallen in the savage and uncertain
fight at Oriskany; in Bennington, stout old Stark
had dealt the British a rousing blow, and Bur-
goyne's boast that with ten thousand men he
could promenade through America" ended dis-
mally enough for him in the smoke of Bemis
Heights and the surrender at Saratoga.
But, before that glorious ending, many were the
dark and doubtful days that came to Albany and
to Rensselaerswyck. Rumors of defeat and disas-
ter, of plot and pillage, filled the little city. Spies
and Tories sought to work it harm. The flash of
the tomahawk, at which Mistress Margery had
so lightly jested, was really seen in the Schuy-
ler mansion.* Good Dominie Westerlo kept open
church and constant prayer for the success of the
patriot arms through one whole anxious week, and
on a right September afternoon, General Ten
Broek, with a slender escort, came dashing up to
the "stoop" of the Van Rensselaer manor-house.
What now, Uncle? asked young Stephen, as
he met the general in the broad hall.
More supplies- we must have more supplies,
lad," replied his uncle. "Our troops need provis-
ions, and I am here to forage among both friends
and foes."
"Beginning with us, I suppose," said the young
patroon. "0, Uncle, can not I, too, do something
to show my love for the cause ?"
"Something, Stephen? You can do much," his
uncle replied. "Time was, lad, when your an-
cestors, the lord patrons of Rensselaerswyck, were
makers and masters of the law in this their col-
onie. From their own forts floated their own flag
and frowned their own cannon. Their word was
law, and their orders were obeyed without ques-
tion. Forts and flags and cannon are no longer
yours, Stephen, and we would not have it other-
wise; but your word still holds as good with your
tenantry as did that of the first patroon. Try it,
lad. Let me, in the name of the young patroon,
demand from your tenantry of Rensselaerswyck
provisions and forage for our gallant troops."
0, try it, Uncle, try it--do," young Stephen
cried, full of interest; "but will they give so much
heed, think you, to my word ?"
Ay, trust them for that," replied the general.
So strong is their attachment to their young
patroon that they will, I know, do more on your
simple word than on all the orders and levies of the
Continental Congress."
So, out into the farm-lands that checkered the

valley and climbed the green slopes of the Helder-
bergs, went the orders of the boy patroon, sum-
moning all "our loyal and loving tenantry" to
take of their stock and provender all that they
could spare, save the slight amount needed for
actual home use, and to deliver the same to the
commissaries of the army of the Congress at Sara-
toga. And the "loyal and loving tenantry gave
good heed to their patroon's orders. Granaries
and cellars, stables and pig-sties, pork-barrels and
poultry-sheds, were emptied of their contents. The
army of the Congress was amply provisioned, and
thus, indeed, did the boy patroon contribute his
share toward the great victory at Saratoga-a
victory of which one historian remarks that "no
martial event, from the battle of Marathon to that
of Waterloo -two thousand years exerted a
greater influence upon human affairs."

The field of Saratoga is won. Six thousand
British troops have laid down their arms, and the
.fears of northern invasion are ended. In the
Schuyler mansion at Albany, fair Mistress Margery
is helping her mother fitly entertain General Bur-
goyne and the paroled British officers, thus return-
ing good for evil to the man who, but a few weeks
before, had burned to the ground her father's
beautiful country house at Saratoga. Along the
fair river, from the colonies to the peaks of the
Katzbergs, the early autumn frosts are painting
the forest leaves with gorgeous tints, and to-day,
the first of November, 1777, the children are joy-
ously celebrating the thirteenth birthday of the boy
patroon in the big manor-house by the creek. For,
in Albany, a hundred years ago, a children's
birthday party really meant a children's party.
The grown-folk" left home on that day, and the
children had free range of the house for their
plays and rejoicing. So, through the ample
rooms and the broad halls of the Van Rensselaer
mansion the children's voices ring merrily, until,
tired of romp and frolic, the little folks gather
on the great staircase for rest and gossip. And
here the fresh-faced little host, in a sky-blue silk
coat lined with yellow, a white satin vest broidered
with gold lace, white silk knee-breeches and stock-
ings tied with pink ribbons, pumps, ruffles, and
frills, is listening intently while Mistress. Margery,
radiant in her tight-sleeved satin dress, peaked-
toed and bespangled shoes, and wonderfully ar-
ranged hair, is telling the group of girls and boys
all about General Burgoyne and the British officers,
and how much they liked the real Dutch supper
her mother gave-them one day- "suppawn and
malckt and rullichies,t with chocolate and soft
waffles, you know "- and how General the Baron
Riedesel had said that if they staid till Christ-

*See the Story of a Brave Girl," in ST. NICHOLAS for July, 1883 (p. 665-6). t Mush and milk. A kind of chopped meat.




mas he would play at St. Claes (Santa Claus) for
"0, Margery!" exclaimed Stephen, "you
would n't have a Hessian for good old St. Nick,
would you? "
Why not ? said Mistress Margery, with a toss
of her pretty head.. "Do you think you are the
only patroon, my lord Stephen?"
For Santa Claus was known among the boys
and girls of those old Dutch days as the chil-
dren's patroon (De Patroon Van Kindervrengd).

at the manly-looking little lad, resplendent in blue
and yellow, and gold lace, and greeted him with a
rousing birthday cheer a loyal welcome to their
boy patroon, their young offer-koofdt, or chief.
My friends," the lad said, acknowledging their
greeting with a courtly bow, I have asked you to
come to the manor-house on this, my birthday, so
that I might thank you for what you did for me
before the Saratoga fight, when you sent so much
of your stock and produce to the army simply on
my order. But I wish also to give you something

,L' S PA TY....L W i O ..N '"B O SUPP :
i- 'e i ii' ;I.II .___ I I I


But, in the midst of the laughter, a quick step
sounded in the hall, and General Ten Broek came
to the children-crowded staircase. Thp Hel-
derberg farmers are here, lad," he said to his
nephew; and the young patroon, bidding his guests
keep up the fun while he left them awhile, followed
his uncle through the door-way and across the
broad court-yard to where, just south of the manor-
house, stood the rent-office. As the boy emerged
from the mansion, the throng of tenants who had
gathered there at his invitation gazed admiringly

besides thanks. And so, that you may know how
much I value your friendship and fealty, I have,
with my guardian's approval, called you here to
present to each one of you a free and clear title to
all the lands you have, until now, held in fee from
me as the patron of Rensselaerswyck. Gen-
eral Ten Broek will give you the papers before you
leave the office, and Pedrom has a goodly spread
waiting for you in the lower hall. Take this from
me, my friends, with many thanks for what you
have already done for me."


Then, what a cheer went up. The loyal tenantry
of the Helderberg farms had neither looked for
nor expected any special return for their generous
offerings to the army of the Congress, and this ac-
tion of the boy patroon filled every farmer's heart
with something more than gratitude; for now each
one of them was a land owner, as free and untram-

shelter in Hurley; and here the boys repaired for
instruction-for school must go on though war
rages and fire burns. The signs of pillage and
desolation were all around them; but, boy-like, they
thought little of the danger, and laughed heartily
at Dominie Doll's story of the poor 'Sopus Dutch-
man, who, terribly frightened at the sight of the




meled as the boy patroon himself. And, as fair
Portia says in the play,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world,"

that, when young Stephen Van Rensselaer went
joyfully back to his children's party, and the Hel-
derberg farmers to black Pedrom's "spread" in
the lower hall, it would have been hard to say
which felt the happier the giver or the receivers
of this generous and manly gift.
The years of battle continued, but Dominie
Doll's boarding-school, smoked out of 'Sopus when
the British troops laid Kingston in ashes, found

enemy, fled wildly across a deserted hay-field, and
stepped suddenly upon the end of a long hay-rake
left behind by the "skedadling farmers. Up
flew the long handle of the rake and struck the
terrified Dutchman a sounding whack upon the
back of his head. He gave himself up for lost.
" Oh, mein frent, meinfrent !" he cried, dropping
upon his knees and lifting imploring hands to his
supposed captors, "I kivs up, I kivs up. Hooray
for King Shorge "
Nearly two years were passed here upon the
pleasant hill-slopes that stretch away to the Cats-
kill ridges and the rugged wildness of the Stony




Clove; and then, in the fall of 1779, when the boy
patroon had reached his fifteenth birthday, it was
determined to send him, for still higher education,
to the College of New Jersey, at Princeton. Of
that eventful journey of the lad and his half-dozen
school-fellows, under military escort, from the hills
of the Upper Hudson to the shot-scarred college
on the New Jersey plains, a most interesting story
could be told. I doubt whether many, if any,
boys ever went to school under such delightfully
exciting circumstances. For their route lay
through a war-worried section; past the dismantled
batteries of Stony Point, where mad Anthony
Wayne had gained so much glory and renown;
past the Highland fortresses, and through the ranks
of the Continental Army, visiting General Wash-
ington at his head-quarters at West Point, and
carrying away never-forgotten recollections of the
great commander; cautiously past roving bands
of cruel "cow-boys" and the enemy's outposts
around captured New York, to the battered college
buildings which had alternately been barracks and
hospital for American and British troops. And an
equally interesting story could be told of the excit-
ing college days when, almost within range of the
enemy's guns, the boom of the distant cannon would
come like a punctuation in recitations, and the fear
of fusillades would help a boy through many a
"tight squeeze" in neglected lessons. But this
was education under difficulties. The risk be-
came too great, and the young patroon was finally
transferred to the quieter walls of Harvard Col-
lege, from which celebrated institution he gradu-
ated with honor in 1782, soon after his eighteenth
The quiet life of an average American boy would
not seem to furnish very much worth the telling.
The boy patroon differed little, save in the way of
birth and vast estate,from other boys and girls of the
eventful age in which-he lived; but many incidents
in his youthful career could safely be recorded.
We might tell how he came home from college
just as the great war was closing; how he made
long trips, on horseback and afoot, over his great
estate, acquainting himself with his tenantry and
their needs; how, even before he was twenty years

old, he followed the custom of his house and mar-
ried fair Mistress Margery, the brave girl" of the
Schuyler mansion, according to the ST. NICHOLAS
story; and how, finally, on the first of November,
1785, all the tenantry of Rensselaerswyck thronged
the grounds of the great manor-house, and, with
speech and shout and generous barbecue,celebrated
his coming of age the twenty-first birthday of
the boy patroon now no longer boy nor patroon,.
but a free American citizen in the new Republic
of the United States.
His after-life is part of the history of his State-
and of his country. At an early age he entered
public life, and filled many offices of trust and re-
sponsibility. An assemblyman, a state senator, a.
lieutenant-governor, a member of Congress, a ma-
jor-general, and the conqueror of Queenstown in the
war of 1812, one of the original projectors of the-
great Erie Canal, and, noblest of all, the founder
and patron of a great school for boys,-the Rens-
selaer Polytechnic Institute at Troy,- he was,
through all, the simple-hearted citizen and the
noble-minded man. But no act in all his long
life-time of seventy-five years became him better-
than the spirit in which he accepted the great
change that made the great lord patroon of half a
million acres the plain, untitled citizen of a free
Though born to hereditary honors and aristo-
cratic rank," says his biographer, "with the history
of the past before him, in possession of an estate
which connected him nearly with feudal times and
a feudal ancestry, and which constituted him in his.
boyhood a baronial proprietor, he found himself,
at twenty-one, through a forcible and bloody revo-
lution, the mere fee-simple owner of acres, with
just such political rights and privileges as belonged
to his own freehold tenantry, and no other." And
though the Revolution, in giving his country in-
dependence, had stripped him of power and per-
sonal advantages, he accepted the change without
regret, and preferred his position as one in a whole
nation of freemen to that feudal rank which he
had inherited from generations of ancestors, as the-
Boy Patroon, the last Lord of the Manor of Rens-



AN old man went by the window,
Shrunken and bent with care;
He'd a scythe swung over his shoulder,
And white were his beard and hair.

My little one earnestly watched him
Up the hilly roadside climb,-
Then said, in a tone of conviction,
"Mamma, that was Father Time "




SOME writer has defined a picnic as "a day's
laborious frolicking, under the impression that
you are having a good time"; and that is cer-
tainly an excellent description of some out-of-door
entertainments. But almost all of us can recall
some picnics which were not at all "laborious,"
and of which even the recollection is very pleasant.
It is possible that you have heard your mothers
express some dismay at the thought of fitting out
a party for a day in the woods. It seems to bring
up to them visions of baskets which must be filled
with a variety of eatables, difficult to procure, and
almost impossible to pack. A person needs to
live through a generation of picnics in order to
know the easiest and best way of carrying them
One common mistake is that of taking too much
food. The result is that it must either be brought
back, not at all improved by the journey, or else
wastefully thrown away. This trouble usually
arises from want of forethought. Have it clearly
understood beforehand what part of the lunch each
person is to provide. This will be less trouble
for each one, and the necessary quantity can be
easily estimated. One should provide all the
bread and butter, another the cold meat, another
the cake, and so on. Pack the articles with care,
so that their appearance will not be injured in
carrying them. Always take the bread in the
lIdaf, as it dries so quickly after it is cut. Press.
the butter into a cup, and push a bit of ice into
'the center to keep it cool. Spread each slice
before cutting it from the loaf. Have a sharp
knife and you will find it easy to cut it thin with-
out breaking the slices. Cake should never be
cut beforehand, as it is in that case sure to crum-
ble. Wrap the food tightly in old napkins, which
can be lost without breaking a set. Japanese
paper napkins are not strong enough to keep the
loaves in shape, but they are very useful in serv-
ing the lunch.
Cold meat should be sliced, sprinkled with salt,
and wrapped in a damp napkin, or put in a tin
Be careful to have nothing in the baskets which
can be spilled. All liquids should be put into
tightly closed bottles or jars. Sugar and salt in
boxes, with the covers carefully secured. A large
piece of ice is very desirable. The only objection
to taking it is the weight; but if it is put in a
tightly covered pail, it can be carried without

much inconvenience, and a supply of cold water
will be very refreshing.
Do not try to take too many dishes. They are
very heavy, and if you can not be content without
all the comforts of a well-appointed table, you had
better stay at home, and eat in peace in a conven-
ient dining-room. A wooden plate for each of the
company is almost indispensable. These are very
light, and cheap enough to be thrown away after
using. A cup or tumbler should be provided for
every one. Tin teaspoons are also a great con-
venience. Sometimes they are ornamented with
a bit of bright ribbon, and brought home in
remembrance of the day. A table-cloth should be
carried, and each should bring what is necessary
in serving his or her part of the entertainment.
A can-opener and fork for sardines, a spoon for
jelly, etc.
It is much easier to squeeze the lemons for the
lemonade and put the sugar with the juice, before
leaving home. A pound of sugar is about the
right quantity for a cup of lemon juice.. It can
be carried in a glass jar, and will only need the
addition of water when it is to be used.
If coffee is to be made in the woods, you will
need to take for a party of twelve at least three
cups of ground coffee. This should be tied in a
flannel bag, allowing room for it to swell; and
when you have three quarts of water boiling hot,
throw in the bag of coffee, and let it boil fifteen or
twenty minutes before serving.
.This is all very pleasant, especially as you can
roast potatoes or green corn in the ashes; but it
should never be attempted unless some of the
party are experienced in the matter. To safely
kindle a fire out-of-doors requires considerable
skill, as some unnoticed spark or creeping line of
flame may reach the dry grass and bushes, and
break out hours afterward into a serious forest-
When the time comes to unpack the baskets,
let two or three of the girls spread the cloth, and
arrange everything as tastefully as possible, with
the ready ornamentation of flowers or ferns, if
they like. They must be careful, however, not to
sacrifice convenience to effect. It is much better
to avoid as far as possible the necessity of passing
the dishes. Put several plates of bread and butter
on the cloth, and divide the other eatables in the
same way, as reaching is almost impossible when
the table-cloth is spread on the grass.




After the meal is finished do not let the debris
remain, but re-pack the baskets at once. Put back
neatly the food which is left, remembering that if
you do not want it, some one else may. See that
the dishes and napkins are put into the baskets
from whence they came, and do not leave an un-
sightly pile of banana-skins and sardine boxes to
disfigure the place for the next picnic party, but
throw them all out of sight.
The most important part of a picnic, however,
is not the weather or the place or the dinner.
You may choose the most beautiful spot in the
world, and spread the most delicious lunch ever
prepared, and yet have the whole thing a complete
failure, simply because the company was not well
selected. Out-of-doors, where people are free
from formality, unless they are congenial friends,
and what Mrs. Whitney calls Real Folks," they
will be likely to feel ill at ease, and miss the sup-
port given by company clothes and manners.
Small picnics, for this reason among others, are
usually much pleasanter than large picnics.
In making up the party, be sure to leave be-
hind the girl who is certain to be too warm or too
cold, or to think some other place better than the
one where she is, and who has "a horrid time,"
if she has to submit to any personal inconvenience
for the sake of others; and with her, the boy who
loves to tease, and who is quite sure that his way
is the only good way. Put into their places some
others, young or old, who have a taste for simple
pleasures, and are ready to help others to enjoy
Next in importance to the company is the place.
It must not be at a great distance, or you will all
be tired, not to say cross, when you arrive there.
It must be reasonably shady, and not too far from
a supply of good drinking water. If the company
are to walk, you must be especially careful not to
be overburdened with baskets and wraps, as carry-
ing all that is necessary, even for half a mile, is
not easy, and the bundles which seemed so light
when you started are sure to weigh down heavily
before you reach your destination. Be careful to
have this work fairly distributed.
Never start until you are sure that you know
just where you are going, and the best way of get-
ting there. Wandering about to choose a place,
and thinking constantly to find one more desirable,
is very fatiguing. That matter should be settled
beforehand by two or three of the party, and the
others should go straight to the spot, and make
the best of it. If any do not like it, they can
choose a different place when their turn comes to

make the selection. As the ground is always more
or less damp, be sure to spread down plenty of
shawls, and do not let a foolish fear of appearing
over-careful cost you a cold which may lead to a
severe illness.
In regard to the matter of dress, fine clothes
are never more out of place than at a picnic.
Thick, comfortable shoes and clothing which will
not be injured are always in fashion among sen-
sible people for such occasions.
Those who truly love the woods will not be at a
loss for amusement, in wandering about, seeking
flowers, or in search of the finest views. Perhaps
some of the company can sketch a little, and even
if they attempt nothing more difficult than a
bunch of grasses or a rustic seat, they will find
pleasant occupation, and secure for themselves a
little souvenir of every excursion.
Singing is better still; for those who can not join
in this can have the pleasure of listening to others.
Sometimes all the party will like to unite in
games. If the day is warm, these must be of the
quiet kind; but if the weather will allow, it is al-
ways pleasant for young and old to join in the
active sports which are usually left to little folk.
People on a picnic must lay aside their conven-
tionalism, and come down to the simple pleasures
of childhood. Only remember always that there
is a certain sort of self-respecting dignity which
can never be laid aside, and be careful not to let
your fun degenerate into a rude romp which you
will be ashamed to remember afterward.
All sorts of pleasant amusements will suggest
themselves to sociable people, and there will be no
fear that the time will drag heavily, unless you have
made the mistake of planning to stay too long.
It is always better to come away while you all
are enjoying yourselves than it is to wait until the
fun begins to grow tiresome, and most of the party
hail the proposal to start for home with ill-con-
cealed relief. It is better to have it close like Sam
Weller's valentine, while they wish there was
more of it."
But oh, the coming back I Let each one watch
tongue and temper carefully; for the memory of
many a pleasant picnic has been spoiled by hasty
words from those who seemed the most amiable
of the party when they started in the morning.
It is so much easier to be smiling and good-na-
tured with a pleasant day in prospect, than it is
when one returns, sun-burned, tired, and dusty,with
a general feeling that all the fun is over. And
even a picnic is not "all well" unless it ends


-___ e-- 15

hey were happy and did laugh
hen their friend, the big giraffe,
laid, "I'll take you to the eity,
in a tandem."
ut their joy was turned to grief
hen their charger bit a leaf,
lever thinking how his sudden stop
would land 'em









FOR twelve days the steamer had been steaming
on and on toward the western horizon, and, just as
fast, the horizon had seemed to fly away, leaving
the ship always in the center of the great circle.
Soon the magical change was to come, and the
land would appear to rise out of the water. Al-
ready the sea-gulls had come back; the sun was
warmer, and it seemed as if we were coming to a
new country.
Every one was on deck, watching for the first
sight of the land. More than a thousand men,
women, and children were on board,- and to
nearly every one the great continent just under that
pale blue horizon was a land of hope and promise.
Land must be very near, for at the foremast
head a sailor ran up a new flag. It seemed
to flutter over them all in a friendly way, and
perhaps some of them looked at it with new
hope and fresh courage.
"Fire Island abeam!" cried out the sailor on
the lookout. Every one gazed off to the right.
There it stood, just a gray tower, apparently stand-
ing up in the water. Strange they had not noticed
it before. Then some one began to point at a blue
cloud low down on the water. Was it mist, or fog,
- or something else? The forward deck was
packed with people of every nation and tongue,
and all were of the great nation of poor people,
which somehow seems to be the greatest nation of
all. There had been loud laughter, talking, and
confusion of tongues for days. Now, under the
intense white sunlight, the warm, languid air, and
the faint smell of land, they were hushed and
silent. The new home was rising from the sea.
Slowly the wonders grew,-the great mass of
the Highlands with its two white eyes ever look-
ing down on the sea; the magic city on the white
beaches; the strange ships and boats; the vast
bay and the rising shores, green with deep woods;
then the grand entrance between the gray old
forts, so different from European forts; the harbor,
the great river, the wonderful bridge, and the
city. /
By tens of thousands, month after month, year
after year, just such ship-loads of people sail into
New York harbor, looking for liberty and a fair
chance in the world. Once a certain man from
France was on board one of these ships, as it
sailed into the bay. Perhaps he too saw the great
assemblage of the emigrants looking in hope and
wonder on the new land; and the thought came

to him What a joy and encouragement it would
be to these people if they should see some-
thing to welcome them, to remind them that this
is a republic. What if there stood,, like a great
guardian, at the entrance of the continent, a
colossal statue a grand figure of a woman hold-
ing aloft a torch, and symbolizing Liberty enlight-
ening the World!
The man was a sculptor, and his name was
Auguste Bartholdi. When he went home to
France, he broached his idea of the great statue,
and discussed it with his friends and acquaint-
ances. Some doubted, but others approved;
gradually, many people -including leading men
of the nation became interested in the scheme;
and, after several years of working and waiting,
the money required for building the statue came in
from the rich and the poor of France. The
French people decided to build the statue, and to
present it to the American people.
When the sculptor conceived the idea of the
statue, he, no doubt, thought of the different ways
in which it could be made. It could be carved in
stone or cast in metal. Think of a stone statue
almost one hundred and fifty feet high,- higher
than many a church steeple, and about as high as
the arch of the Brooklyn Bridge. Who could lift
it into place? Who could carve such a monster?
It might be constructed of smaller stones put
together. But that would never do. The cracks
between the stones would show, and it would be
liable to fall to pieces. The Obelisk in Central
Park is in one stone, but then its height is less
than half the height named for the proposed
statue. Clearly, stone would never do. Could it
be cast in bronze -even in small pieces--and
then put together? Not easily; it would be too
heavy and too costly.
At one time a certain sculptor, called "II Cerano,"
built a colossal statue near Arona, on the shore of
Lake Maggiore, in Italy. It was made on quite a
different plan from those employed with carved
statues or with statues cast in bronze. It was
made of copper, in thin sheets, laid upon a frame
or skeleton of stone, wood, and iron. Such a
method of work is called refloussi, which means
" hammered work, because the thin sheets of
metal are hammered into shape. Bartholdi, the
projector of the great statue of Liberty, decided
that it, too, must be done in refousse, or sheets of
hammered bronze.



So when the money for the work had been fully
secured, the actual labor began; and a strange,
curious labor it was. First, there had to be a sketch
or model. This was a figure of the statue in clay,
to give an idea of how it would look. The public
approved of this model, and then the first real study
of the work was made,-a plaster statue, just one-
sixteenth the size of the intended statue.
The next step was to make another model just
four times as large, or one-fourth the size of the
real statue. Now the model began to assume

way, and then to lay out the full-size plan it was only
necessary to make a plan of each section four times
as large as the section actually was in the model.
Every part of the model was covered with marks or
dots for guides, and by measuring from dot to dot,
increasing the measurement four times, and then
transferring it to the larger model, an exact copy
just four times as large was made. For each of
these large sections, however, there had to be a
support of some kind, before the plaster could be
laid on. Having marked on the floor an outline

B ID ,\ -- P'AST R MODEL ...... T


something of the proportions intended, and it was
carefully studied and worked over to make it as
perfect as possible. This quarter-size model being
finished, then came the task of making the full-size
model in plaster. But this had to be made in sec-
tions. For instance, the first section would include
the base on which the figure stood, the feet, and
the hem of the garment. The next section would
include a circle quite round the long flowing dress,
just above the hem. The third section would stand
above this and show more of the folds of the dress,
and reach part way up to the knee. In like manner,
the whole figure would be divided into sections.
The quarter-size model was first divided in this

plan of the enlarged section, a wooden frame-work
was built up inside the plan. Then upon this
frame-work plaster was roughly spread. It soon re-
sembled, in a rude way, the corresponding section
of the quarter-size model, but was four times as
large. Then the workmen copied in this pile of
plaster every feature of the model section, measur-
ing and measuring, again and again, from dot to dot,
correcting by means of plumb-lines, and patiently
trying and retrying till an exact copy -only in
proportions four times as large was attained.
The picture on this page shows the wooden frame
of one of the hands, and a portion of the plaster
already laid on the frame.





The great irregularity of the drapery made it
necessary to put three hundred marks on each
section, besides twelve hundred smaller guide-
marks, in order to insure an exact correspond-
ence in proportion between the enlarged sections
of the full-size model and the sections of the
quarter-size model. Each of these marks, more-

ters. Each piece was a mold of a part of the
statue, exactly fitting every projection, depression,
and curve of that portion of the figure or drapery.
Into these wooden molds sheets of metal were
laid, and pressed or beaten down till they fitted the
irregular surfaces of the molds. All the refousse,
or hammered work, was done from the back, or


over, had to be measured three times on both
models, and after that came all the remeasure-
ments, to prove that not a single mistake had
been made.
When these sections in plaster had been com-
pleted, then came the work of making wooden
molds that should be exact copies both in size and
modeling of the plaster. These were all carefully
made by hand. It was a long, tedious, and diffi-
cult piece of work; but there are few workmen
who could do it better than these French carpen-

inside, of the sheet. If the mold is an exact copy
of a part of the statue, it is easy to see that the
sheet of metal, when made to fit it, will, when
taken out and turned over, be a copy of that part of
the statue.
These sheets were of copper, and each was from
one to three yards square. Each formed a part of
the bronze statue, and of course no two were alike.
In this complicated manner, by making first a
sketch, then a quarter-size model, then a full-size
model in sections, then hundreds of wooden copies,


and lastly by beating into shape three hundred
sheets of copper, the enormous statue was finished.
These three hundred bent and hammered plates,
weighing in all eighty-eight tons, form the out-
side of the statue. They are very thin, and while
they fit each other perfectly, it is quite plain that if
they were put together in their proper order they
would never stand alone. It would be like building
a dwelling-house out of boards placed on edge.
It would surely tumble down by its own weight or
be blown over by the first storm. These ham-
mered sheets make the outside of the statue; but
there must be also a skeleton, a bony structure
inside, to hold it together. This is of iron beams,
firmly riveted together, and making a support to
which the copper shell can be fastened.
On page 731 is a picture of the great statue par-
tially finished. The lower half ofthe figure appears
almost completed. Above that can be seen, inside
the staging, the great iron skeleton that supports
the figure. High above the staging rise the iron
bones of the uplifted arm,- not a handsome arm
as yet, because it is not clothed with its rich, dark
,copper skin. The houses seen in the background
give a good idea of the height and proportions of the
great statue. The head and the hand, already fin-
ished, can be seen on the ground at the left of
the statue. The right hand and torch were made
first, and were shown at the Centennial Exhibition
at Philadelphia in 1876, and, after that, were for
some time erected in Madison Square, New York
City. The head was also shown in Paris at the time
of. the last exposition. A picture on page 730
shows the head as it stood in the work-shop.
In erecting such a great statue, two things had
to be considered that seem very trifling, and yet,
if neglected, might destroy the statue in one day,
or cause it to crumble slowly to pieces. One is the
sun, the other is the sea breeze. Either of these
could destroy the great copper figure, and some-
thing must be done to prevent such a disaster.
The heat of the sun would expand the metal and
pull it out of shape, precisely as it does pull the
Brooklyn Bridge out of shape every day. The
bridge is made in four parts, and when they ex-
pand with the heat of the sun they slide one past
the other, and no harm is done. The river span
rises and falls day and night, as heat and cold al-
ternate. The great copper statue is likewise in
two parts, the frame-work of iron and the copper
covering; and while they are securely fastened to-
gether they can move one over the other. Each
bolt will slip a trifle as the copper expands in the
hot August sunshine, and slide back again when
the freezing winds blow and the vast figure shrinks
together in the cold. Besides this, the copper
surface is so thin and elastic that it will bend

slightly when heated and still keep its general
The salt air blowing in from the sea has thin
fingers and a bitter, biting tongue. If it finds a
crack where it can creep in between the copper
surface and iron skeleton, there will be trouble at
once. These metals do not agree together, and
where there is salt moisture in the air they seem to
quarrel more bitterly than ever. It seems that
every joining of points of copper and iron makes a
tiny battery, and so faint shivers of electricity
would run through all the statue, slowly cor-
roding and eating it into dust. This curious,
silent, and yet sure destruction must be pre-
vented, and so every joint throughout the statue,
wherever copper touches iron, must be pro-
tected with little rags stuffed between the metals
to keep them from quarreling. It is the same
wherever two different metals touch each other. Im-
agine what a tremendous battery the Liberty would
make, with its tons of copper surface and monstrous
skeleton of iron. However, a little care prevents
all danger, as provision will be made, of course,
for keeping the metals from touching each other.
When, in 1870, Bartholdi sailed into our beauti-
ful bay, andhad his grand day-dream of this wonder-
ful bronze figure lifting aloft her torch, he saw away
to the south-west of the Battery, and opposite the
New Jersey shore, a grassy island on which stood a
stone fort.
This island, which contains only twelve acres, lies
about a mile and a half south of Jersey City, and
all vessels going in or out of port must pass it. It
is also in full view of the lower parts of New York
and Brooklyn. To the west and south spreads the
wide bay, with the low Jersey shore and the blue
Orange Mountains beyond. To the south rise the
hills of Staten Island and the Narrows, with a
glimpse of the sea between. On clear days, even
the Highlands can be seen glimmering on the far
southern horizon, nearly thirty miles away.
And here, alone on an island, but in sight of
three cities, the great statue of Liberty will stand.
Her torch, indeed, will be in plain sight of all the
cities round about; Newark, the Oranges, all the
white villages clinging to the hills beyond, the
summer cities by the sea, and that green and
wooded city that with dull white eyes looks down
on the bay from the silent hills on Long Island.
Two million people can plainly see the great bronze
figure from their homes, and another million, in
country homes, will see her lamp by night; while
men, women, and children of every nation will
pass in ships beneath her mighty shadow.
They call the place where the statue is to stand
Bedloe's Island, because old Isaac Bedloe, a sturdy
Dutchman of New Amsterdam, bought it of the





^& .o .?

i 5^tie-ii~

Copyright, 1884, by Root & Tinker.
The colossal Statue by A.
VOL. XI.--47.

Bartholdi, to be erected on Bedloe's Island, New York Harbor.









colonial government. We do not know much about
him, except that he died in 1672. However, we
may confidently assume that the island was seen by
Hendrick Hudson when he first explored the Hud-
son River. The Dutch colonists must have passed
close to it on their way to Communipaw, where they
first settled before they founded New Amsterdam.
Afterward, during the Revolution, it was called
Kennedy's Island, as Captain Kennedy, command-
er of the British naval station in New York,
bought it. He built a house upon the island
and used it as a summer residence. At the end
of the war it became the property of the State of
New York, and at the time of the yellow fever
alarm, in 1797, it was used as a quarantine for a
short time. In 18oo it was given by the State to
the United States, and in 1814 the Government
began to build a fort on the island. In 1841 the
present star-shaped fort was built, at a cost of
$213,000. It was thought at the time to be a
fine affair, as it would mount over seventy guns
and hold a garrison of three hundred and ri f'
men. During the Rebellion the place was used
as an hospital, and a number of hospital buildings
were built on the island. With this exception, the


fort has never been practically utilized. We are
not at war with any one, nor do we wish to harm
any nation; so it happens that this, like many of
our forts, has never been fully supplied with guns

or men. And the great guns now used on ships
would soon shell to pieces a stone fort like that on
Bedloe's Island.
It is a queer place, indeed, and reminds one of

the illustrations in an old picture-book. As you go

rise the granite walls of the fort. There are on the

trance, dark and crooked and closed by massive

open space, a few houses for the men and officers,
{ ,*

statue should be built in the square within the fort.

the illustrations in an old picture-book. As you go
up from the wharf on the east side, you cross a road
that follows the top of the sea-wall, and come at
once to the outside battery, already falling to ruin.
Here are a few rusty old guns, and behind them
rise the granite walls of the fort. There are on the
west.side an arched entrance, a m t a nd place for
a draw-bridge like those of an old castle. In the
south-east corner is a sally-port, a cavern-like en-
trance, dark and crooked and closed by massive
iron doors, not unlike the doors of a big safe.
Within the fort there was a parade-ground, or
open space, a few houses for the men and officers,
and immense tanks for storing water, and great
bomb-proof vaults where the men could hide if the
shells flew too thick.
It was decided that the lofty pedestal for the
statue should be built in the square within the fort.
The parade-ground, however, appeared to be level
sand.:' Clearly, it would not do to rest so great a
weight on sand, and it would be necessary, there-
fore, to make excavations until a firm foundation
was secured, far below. This seemed an easy
task, but it proved to be an exceedingly difficult
one. Under the parade-ground were the old
water-tanks, the store-rooms, and bomb-proof
vaults, and these were of solid brick and stone,
very heavily built.



A pit or excavation, ninety feet square, was
made and was carried deep enough to go below
the fort to the solid ground beneath. Then the
great pit had to be filled up again with some
material that would not yield or sag. For this
purpose, wet concrete was used-a mixture of
cement, broken stones, and water. As soon as it

dation on which the pedestal is to be built. The
pedestal will be eighty feet high, and the base of
the statue will rest upon the top of the pedestal.
At the beginning of this year the filled-in founda-
tion had reached to the level of the old parade-
ground, and at the same time came the news from
Paris that the statue was finished. The last sheet



t5 rh t.j-j itA4~r~tl

-':R 411 i-JT1

j l ' 1

"' %r~C~r~~'j,

is put into place and beaten down, it hardens and of dark bronze-colored copper was ready, and
becomes like stone. Layer after layer of concrete every bar and beam and bolt of the large iron
was put in, till the whole pit was filled up solidly, skeleton was complete. As you are reading this,
The mass of concrete is fifty-three feet deep and preparations are making to go on with the work on
ninety feet square at the bottom. It will be like our side. The French people have done their
one solid block of stone-work, sunk deep in the part. They have built and paid for the statue,
ground, and rising to the level of the broad walk on and it lies ready to be sent over in hundreds of
top of the walls of the fort; but it is only the foun- pieces, each marked, and ready to be fitted together


to form the immense figure. Now it is our turn.
The statue is a gift -a free present of respect and
good-will from the people of France. It is our
part to receive it with honor, and put it up in
the place assigned to it. America is to build the
pedestal on which the great bronze figure will
The pedestalwillbe of stone, rising in a massive
square eighty-two feet above the ground. The
solid block of concrete will be hidden under the
grass, securely holding up the pedestal and the
statue above. There will be stair-ways within the
pedestal and balconies near the top, commanding
a fine view of the beautiful bay and the three cities.
The figure itself, from the top of the head to the
foot, on which it stands posed as if ,about to step
forward, is one hundred and ten feet and a half
high ; the forefinger is eight feet long and four feet
in circumference at the second joint; the head is
fourteen feet high, and forty persons can stand
within it. There will be a stair-way within the
statue, leading to the head, and another in the ex-
tended arm, by which ascent may be made into the
torch, which will hold fifteen persons. A great
light will be placed in the torch, and the pointed
diadem, encircling the ',.:,d. i! be studded with
electric lights. The total weight of the statue,
including both the iron skeleton and the copper
covering, will, it is said, amount to one hundred
thousand pounds.
As the summer advances, the work on the ped-
estal will be resumed; if all goes well, the corner-
stone will be laid on the 4th of July, 1884. When
the entire pedestal is finished, the great Liberty, in
hundreds of separate pieces, will arrive from France;
and then will come the grand work of putting the
noble statue together. It will be well worth seeing,
for it will be a repetition, in part, of the curious
work of building it. The pedestal being finished,
the first step will be to fasten the great iron frame-
work securely to the stone-work. Long bolts will
extend deep into the pedestal, and be anchored
firmly in the concrete, so that nothing less than an
earthquake can ever throw the structure down.
The skeleton in place, then will come the work
of putting on the thin plates of copper that make
the outside of the figure. These pieces will be
fastened with bolts that will not show on the out-
side, and the joints between the sheets will be so
fine that it will be difficult to find them, and so
the work will appear from the outside like one solid
piece of rich dark bronze.

In Union Square, New York, and facing the
statue of Washington, is a bronze figure of Lafa-
yette. It represents a man, of graceful figure and
handsome, open face, in the act of making offer of
his sword to the country he admired -the country
that sorely needed his aid. The left hand is ex-
tended as if in greeting and friendly self-surrender,
and the right hand, which holds the sword, is
pressed against the breast as if implying that his
whole heart goes with his sword. The statue well
expresses the warm and generous devotion which,
as we all know, the French Marquis rendered to
this country during the War of the Revolution,
and is a fitting memorial to the noble friend of
Washington and of America. Look at this statue
the next time you pass Union Square or visit
New York City. For it, also, was designed by
Bartholdi-who planned the great bronze Liberty,
He has made many other statues, and almost
every one seems to have this strong and vigorous
character, and to embody and express a meaning
that all who see can understand. He has done
good. work, and we need have no fear that after
the great figure is complete it will not be grand or
beautiful. But no matter how imposing its appear-
ance, it might be a failure, in one sense, if it
did not clearly express a meaning. The Lafayette
in Union Square seems ready to speak. And so,
too, the new Liberty evidently has something to say.
What will this grand figure mean? Well, in
the first place, it will commemorate the generous
part which. the French played in the War of Inde-
pendence, one hundred years ago. And it will
represent the good-will and kindly feeling existing
between the two nations which are, to-day, the
only republics among the leading nations of the
world. But there is a still wider meaning in this
noble statue, and it is this meaning which the
sculptor has embodied in the pose and expression
of the figure itself. This colossal statue stands for
Liberty enlightening the World. In one hand she
lifts aloft a torch; in the other she clasps a book.
Perhaps the book means law, or right doing. She
stands for liberty; but it is the true, unselfish
liberty which respects the rights of others. More-
over, she stands for the people. She means that,
under the shadow of liberty, the people are greater
than king or emperor; that peace is -better than
war, friendship wiser than enmity, love and re-
spect better than selfishness and unkindness; and
that liberty is for all peoples throughout the wide





THERE'S a dandy little fellow
Who dresses all in yellow,-
In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the spring-time bright and early,
A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,
He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,
The gypsy fire-flies camp;
His companions are the woodlark and the toad.
Spick and spandy, little dandy,
Golden dancer in the dell!
Green and yellow, happy fellow,
All the little children love him well!

But at last this little fellow
Doffs his dandy coat of yellow,
And very feebly totters o'er the green;-
For he very old is growing,
And with hair all white and flowing
A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
The little winds of morning
Come a-flying through the grass,
And clap their hands around him in their glee;
They shake him without warning,-
His wig falls off, alas!
And a little bald-head dandy now is he.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!
Older growing, white hair flowing,
Poor little bald-head dandy now is he!




I AM a little fish,,
a Toad-fish. One
bright day I looked
up out of the water
---- --- and saw Daisy sit-
-y ting on the stone
; s. wall, fishing. Near
her sat Aunt May,,
-- making a picture
-perhaps a pict-
ure of me, I.
Thought. I swan
up to see what it.
was, and just then
Daisy dropped her
line, bob, hook,

"what shall I do ? "
Aunty May called a boy who was playing on the rocks.

line, and I will give you ten cents."
Off ran the boy, and soon a boat came over my head, and soon I saw
Daisy all smiling again, with the fish-line in her hand; and the little boy all
smiling, with the money in his hand; and Aunt May all smiling, with her
paint-brush in her hand. Daisy looked down at me, and I saw her eyes
shining as bright as my scales, and I thought I would like to go up and see
her. She dropped a piece of good beef into the water. I opened my mouth
wide, and down went the beef and the hook inside of it, and up went I.
The hook did not stick into me. I was caught by the big thing in my
throat, and was just going to choke, when somebody pulled it out, and
popped me into a round thing with water in it, all shiny, with other fishes
swimming round the sides, who kept bumping me with their noses. Sud-
denly I saw Daisy and somebody else looking at me. That is a Toad-



fish," said the other somebody; r -
"he lives under a stone at the j
bottom of the water." ,
I wonder how she knew that E d
-and then she poked me, and
bothered me so-you may be
sure I was glad when Aunt May
came up and said:
Keep still, little fish, I 'm
going to make a picture of you." '
I felt very proud, and kept
just as still as I could. Then the . !
round thing began to move, it
turned upside down, and there
I was again in my sea home!
Mother, and all my brothers and "
sisters were having dinner off ..
the rest of the bait Daisy threw ...'
overboard, and they began to -.- -..--
scold me, but I said: "Just wait till you hear where I 've been, and how
I 've had my picture taken !" So they all sat down and heard this story,
which they said was good enough to print. I think so, too. Do you?


S -- -_.-.-< . -
l- f- --=2-:: -------'-= --_=6 s -' ?-: -- --.: _-- -=-v: & -:--:: i -- -_-
!i:: ._-- :::=- -- _= '-- =:::_-.-:-- -- -77 -..-,<.- _2:--.. ---: : -:-=-;e :-- "-'.-- 2."=a '--'x' -_
.-" -"_----_---'Z _--T -_.:-"_--: -; :4 _=- - : -_ :--_-.?-- :-.-- __2 .: _- -_. --- 2 ; _-. :
:- - 2 .. _. = = _- .' _-2 .' 5 - .7 . : -. 7 2 -$ 2 2 L .2-a - _"


It is the merry circus time, and the Sun must have his share,
So he goes to see the Lion, a-lying in his lair.

'r ,-, 'IL

8 Virgo
9 Libra
11 Ophiuch
12 "
13 Sagitt.
16 Capri.
17 Aqua.
19 Pisces
23 Aries
24 Taurus
3 Leo
4 Virgo
6 "
7 Libra
8 Sc
9 Scorpio

* I .. I ,

H. M.
12. 4 Adm'ble Crichton, d.i582.
12. 4 Klopstock, b. x724.
1 4 LouisXI.ofFr'ce,b. 423.
12. 4 Independence Day.
12. 4
12. 5 4th Sunday after Trinity.
12. 5
12. .5 La Fontaine, b. 1621.
12. 5
12. 5 John Calvin, b. 1509.
12. 5 Alex. Hamilton, d. 1804.
12. 5 CaiusJ. Casar,b.iooB.C.
12. 6 5th Sunday after Trinity.
12. 6 Mme. De Stael, d. 1817.
12. 6
12. 6 SirJos'a Reynolds,b.x723.
12. 6 Isaac Watts,,b. 1674.
12. 6 ( close to Aldebaran.
12. 6 a near Saturn.
12. 6 6th Sunday after Trinity.
12. 6 Robert Burns, d. 1796.
12. 6 Garibaldi, b. 1807.
12. 6
12. 6 Jane Austen, d. 1817.
12. 6 Thos. a Kempis, d. 1471.
12. 6 G close to Mars.
12. 6 7th Sunday after Trinity.
12. 6 d near Spica.
12. 6 Albert I. of Ger., b. 1289.
12. 6 Sebastian Bach, d. 1750.
12. 6 Andrew Johnson, d. 1875.


'T is the month of July, see all the flags fly,
Cannons bang, bells go clang,
And all the time the crackers pop,
As if they never were going to stop.


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

JULY 15th, 8.30 I'M.
One month has sufficed to dispel the glory of the western
skies, for the sun has advanced to the point where last we saw
the planets. VENUS has passed to the west of the sun, and is
now the Morning Star. JUPITER sets only an hour after the
sun and only MARS is left, and he is not at all conspicuous,
though well to the left of Regulus, which is setting in the
Lowest. Spica is in the south-west, three hours west of our south
mark. Exactly in the south is Antares, the star of the Scorpion.
It is the most curiously scintillating star in the heavens. Let us
now take two more steps in marking the path of the sun among
the stars. If we look a little above the line joining Spica and
the Antares, about halfway between them, we shall see Alpha
Librae, one of the only two conspicuous stars in Libra, The
Scales, one of the constellations of the Zodiac. Now remem-
ber that the sun is a little above Spica on the x5th of October,
almost covers Alpha Libre on the 5th of November, and on the
sad of November passes between the two bright stars we see to
the west and somewhat higher than Antares. No visible star
marks the lowest point reached by the sun on the 2zst of
December; he does not go near so far south as Antares.


"Look here! said the old Ram, as the Eagle helped himself to a Lamb, it seems to me you make
pretty free with my family."
"True replied the Eagle proudly, I 'm the Bird of Freedom, you know."
"Bah cried the Lamb, I 've no patience with such airs," and she managed to pull the wool over his
eyes so effectually, that he could not see his way, and kicked so vigorously with her little hoofs, that he was
obliged to drop her.
"Well! said the Eagle, as he smoothed his ruffled feathers, while the Lamb trotted placidly back to the
fold, Ram, Lamb, Sheep, or Mutton !- I sha'n't have any Fourth-of-July dinner."

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








HERE am I! cries July, waving her blue flags and fleur-de-lis. "I know I was awfully noisy last year,
dear Mother, but I am going to try to be more lady-like; I am sorry I am such a spread-eagle sort of a
month, and really wish I was more like May and June."
Well, my dear," replied Mother Nature, I wont scold, if you will try to coax Corn along a little bit;
I've had a time with the whole vegetable family this year. All the garden has been saucy, and even Old Pump-
kin said that he had about made up his mind not to grow any more, not being appreciated as he used to be."
Now, don't worry, Mother," cried July, I will go, this minute, and give them such a scorching as will
teach them good manners."


AND they all of them went to the caravan;
There was little boy Dan, and sister Ann, and
baby Fan,
Away they all ran
To get their seats of the ticket man;
And such a cram, and such a jam,
Was never seen at a caravan
Since the days that Noah's ark set sail,
With the animals packed in, head and tail;
The lamb and the tiger side by side;
The crocodile with his tough old hide;
The ramping, roaring, great gorilla /
With the little, dusty, gray moth-miller;
But I hope that Noah, that good old man,
Had no such time with his caravan,
As befell the man who had this show,
Which at first delighted the children so.

As soon as they entered the great big tent,
They were all quite silent with wonderment,
At seeing so many singular things,
With tails, and claws, and horns, and wings.

But all of a sudden the tiger growled,
The lion roared, and the jackall howled,
The monkeys chattered, and scolded, and scowled,
While up and dqwn the panther prowled,
In his iron cage, so fierce and grim,
With his glaring eyes, with blood-red rim; -
And the whole of the caravan joined in the
Until, at last, all the girls and boys,
Had to run to get out of the way,
And this was the end of their holiday.
For the animals, tired of being a show,
Had all resolved to the woods to gp;
They crashed, and dashed,
And clashed, and lashed,
And all together their cages smashed;
They roared, and gored,
And soared, and poured
Out of the tent in a mighty horde;
And there never was heard such a terrible
Since the day Noah drove the animals in.




2 j, C N -. IHE' -UL P- 1.

SINCE we had our little talk last month, a num-
ber of letters about the ages of animals have been
sent to me. Some of them are so interesting that
I think I shall have to show them to you the next
time we meet.
To-day, however, you shall have a story, to
begin with, in honor of the Fourth of July. It is

THERE was once a yellow Chinese fire-cracker that
lived in a buhch of red ones. They were all tied together
by their pigtails, so that not one could get away.
The yellow cracker was lonely and unhappy, or he
thought that he was, for he was different from the rest,
and his brothers used to laugh at him and whisper softly :
"Yellow, yellow,
What a fellow!"
He would lie awake at night, and wonder how he could
get away. "I should like to go off and never come
back," he would say to himself; yes, I should like to
go offvery much, indeed."
One day he went off, and I will tell you how. He
and his brothers had their home in a shop window. A
red ball lived on one side of them, and a box of slate-
pencils on the other, both very pleasant neighbors.
They all liked to watch the children who pressed their
noses flat against the glass of the window and chose "
what they would like to have. It was a lovely home,
but no one ever chose the yellow fire-cracker, and so he
grew quite unhappy. One day one of the slate-pencils
was taken away, never to come back, and little yel-
low" kept saying to the other pencils, the ball, and all
of his brothers:
If they would only take me, then I should be happy,
for I am sure there must be other yellow people in
the world. It is very hard living where every one else
is red or gray. Oh, dear! "
"I want some fire-crackers, please," said a little boy
to the shop-man. How d',you sell 'em a pack ? "
"Six cents," answered the'man.

Whew said the boy. "How many do you give
for a cent?-"
"Five," said the man.
"Will you give me five and throw in the yellow one ? "
When "little yellow" heard this he was delighted.
The man took up the bunch of crackers, and, untying
their pigtails, he put the yellow one and five of its red
brothers into an old piece of newspaper, and, handed
them to the boy.
Then the fire-crackers started off on a journey in the
dark; but soon they were taken out of the paper and
laid in a row across the little boy's hand. Other children
stood around and looked at them. The crackers began
to feel very proud.
Let's send the yellow one off first. He 's a good one,
and wont he make a noise! said one child.
Of course I 'm good," said the cracker, to himself.
"I will not make a noise at all, for I 've always been a
quiet fellow." Just then a yellow dog ran down the street,
and the boys started after him.
Let's tie the two yellows together, and send 'm off,"
said another boy.
How nice! said the cracker. "The dog is yellow,
and they are going to tie us together. Now I shall have
a real brother, and we '11 have fun going off together."
But before the boys could catch the dog, one of them
held a lighted match to "little yellow's i-;.i ;" .
"Now I am off, indeed," said "little ;.: .. but
what is going on inside of me ? I shall burst! I shall
burst! "
And he did.

TALKING of fire-crackers naturally makes one
think of our country, and that again reminds me of
something that our wonderful Little School-ma'am
lately told right here in my meadow. She explain-
ed why the Government of the United States is so
often called Uncle Sam." It appears that some
well-informed person in Washington, in looking
over old books and papers in the Capitol library
the other day, came across the whole story and
wrote it down in a letter. The Little School-ma'am
saw his account and recited it to the children of
the red school-house, at the close of the noon play-
You must know that, according to our Wash-
ington friend, this term "Uncle Sam" originated
at Troy, in New York State, during the war of
The Government inspector there was called Uncle
Sam Wilson, and, when the war opened, Elbert
Anderson, the contractor at New York, bought a
large amount of beef, pork, and pickles for the
army. These goods were inspected by Mr. Wilson,
and were duly labeled E.. A., U. S., meaning
Elbert Anderson, for the United States. The
term U. S. for United States was then somewhat
new, and the workmen concluded it referred to Un-
cle Sam Wilson. After they discovered their mis-
take they kept up,the name for fun. These same
men soon went to the war. There they repeated
the joke. It got into print and went the rounds.
From that time on the term "Uncle Sam" grew
to be the nickname of the United States, and now
it is everywhere understood that Uncle Sam and
our national Government are one and the same





IT appears that the children-who are very fond
of imitating the ways of. grown folk- have lately
taken to interviewing certain flowers and animals,
thus obtaining from them a good amount of strictly
personal information.
The following account of a little girl interview-
ing a daisy-as taken down by our poetical re-
porter- is not without interest:

"OH, where did you come from, you dear dainty flower,
With your heart like the sun, and your face like the s:.
" Oh, I came from the land of the sunshine and shower,
Where the golden buttercups grow."

" But what did you do when the leaves were all dying,
And the meadows were covered with billows of snow?
When to lands of soft breezes the robins were flying,
Pray, where did the daisies all go?"

"When the bleak winds were blowing o'er mountains ,-. r
I was out in the field sleeping under the snow,
And I dreamed of still woods in soft sunlight and shadow
And of banks where the violets grow."

" But how did you know when the winter was over?
And how did you know when the spring-time was her.:
Did you dream that the fields were all purple with clov -.
And wake to find summer was near?"

" I heard the birds sing, and I heard the brook flowing,
And the sunshine and rain called in tones soft and clt. r.
'The green grass is growing, the flowers are blowing,
Wake, daisy, for summer is here '"

"SOME boys and girls," remarked the
Deacon, last Saturday, to his young friends,
"are very like a certain flower that I read
about lately:- they come out best in a
breeze. The quiet peacefulness that makes
the daisy sort of youngster all the more
sweet and charming, makes these breeze-
children seem stupid and dull. They need
a brisk wind, or even a gale, to show what
they really are."
Well, the good man proceeded to illus-
trate his point, and as the listening young-
sters laughed and nodded "yes," I suppose
he made his meaning quite clear. But what ;-,-
terested your Jack the most was the flower .:.,
plant itself. This the Deacon described as a i .I
wonderful thing-a South American shrub ii, ir
stands about two or three feet in height and us .1i !
looks something like a dark knobby cane w !i
crook on top. But when the wind blows, it'-:.
knobs on the stalk open out into beautiful fl... ''
that shut again as soon as the air is still. /

INFORMATION is wanted of the Scaphirhyncho-
penae. Have you heard from them lately? They
are quite a dashing family, I'm told-high
livers, good swimmers, fond of racing and so
on-and strong teetotalers in the bargain.
When last heard from, they were taking a swim
near London.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: The other day I saw, in a hand-
some sitting-room, something that attracted my attention. When I
remarked on "the pretty new crystal vase," my friend laughed, and
told me how easily the vase had been made-or had made itself.
Her account so interested me that I resolved to ask you to repeat it
to all your young folk. Perhaps, too, ST. NICHOLAS will show a
portrait of the pretty piece of home-made crystal work.
The directions are simple enough. One has only to take a slender
tumbler, partly fill it with water and put in a good handful of salt.
That is all, except from time to time to add more water and salt,

,,h . ", -

I h.
.... I .. .. '... ... '...- .
-. . ..r I... ,- I : i. 1

and tlickenmng, till the whuIe Ie whil, uc,,- J .id l
a mass of little stalactites, beautifully irregular on the surface,
but symmetrical in general shape. This takes several months.
If a blue tumbler is desired, bluing may be added to the salt and
water (a teaspoonful of bluing to a tumnbler of water).
By the way, it occurs to me to ask why the
glass drinking-vessel in common use, standing so
firmly on its foundation, should have so very un-
steady a name as "the tumbler." Who knows ?




CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the i5th 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.

A MASCULINE young contributor sends us this mischievous
drawing as a Fourth-of-July contribution:


NEW YORK, March, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my little house
which I have in the country. It is called "Gable Lodge," and it
is painted red and has a piazza all around it. It is quite large and
it is all furnished, and has a carpet on the floor and some chairs in
it, and shelves to keep my china on, and a wardrobe to keep my
doll's clothes in. I have a ..-, i-.;z J.3i -il .r- i- :- the house
I am telling about. Her na,.I: V.-.I.-r ,.- J. t..; e, this is all
now; perhaps I will write another letter to you.

PORTSMOUTH, N. H., March, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking you for four years.
My mother gave you to me for a Christmas present in 1879, and I
have taken you eyer-since. I 'h: k \.:..j a,. .ta : ri rt..jj.i, r: I-..t
Ihave ever read. I carrythe i;r .*:.ili:J i.. r..:. ar.l
have to getup at four o'clock ir. ih...-. i.ci,: I ,.-. .:r .f ...r ..I A
.the readers of the ST.NICHOL .- ..ul I 1,-[' i iI,,,I ,r ,. iu..
I like Louisa M. Alcott's Spinning-wheel Stories very much.
Your constant reader, PERRY M. RILEY.

LONDON, ENGLAND, March, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of your readers, and I am a Cal-
Ifomian living in England. I am nine years old, and I thought
I might interest some of your readers of the Letter-box by telling
a story about the Chinese which my mother told me. They copy
everything exactly. A gentleman once sent a plate to China to
have a certain number made like it, and as he did not like to
send one of his best plates, he sent one with a crack in it, and so,
when-he got them.all, each one had a crack in it just like the one
he had sent. I like your stories very much.
Your little friend, CHARLIE DELANY.

PITTSFIELD, MASS., March, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our school takes your precious magazine
and likes it better than any other that it has ever subscribed for.
Seeing the article given in the January number about "Jericho
Roses," and having one in our school cabinet, we tried the experi-
mentand met with great success, although it was not tried on Christ-
mas Eve or the night before Easter. Your faithful readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We were very much interested in the letter
written by Lucy C. A., White Rock, Elko Co., Nevada, and we
want to know more about her. My Papa lived in that locality and
has told us so much about the country that we felt very interested.
His name was Martin R. Burnham, a stock-man. Does she know of
him? I wonder if this will ever reach her eyes? If so, will she re-
ply? I would like so much to tell her of my beautiful home in the
Connecticut Valley, and to hear from a little girl who lives in a
country my Papa knows so well. So, dear ST. NICHOLAS, will yo
please print this for one of your readers? MARY B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I see you have scarcely any letters from
your little friends abroad. So I thought I would write you one. I
am a little American girl, eleven years old, and am traveling all
around Europe with Mamma, Papa, and my pug, "Punch." We
had an earthquake the other day, and a black fog to-day,-so black,
that the hansoms had their lamps lighted. I found a little daisy in
Hyde Park, and it looks like ours only it has a pink border. Queen
Victoria's grand-daughter is to be married on Wednesday to the
Duke of Hesse. Ihave written an awful long letter; but, dear ST.
NICHOLAS, if you only knew half the trouble I have had with it, be-
tween the spelling and naughty "Punch," who keeps knocking
my arm, you would surely publish it. Punch has just.chewed up
my dear ST. NICHOLAS. Your English friends,

ANN ARBOR, MICH., April, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letters from here
in the Best of Magazines," and think we ought to be represented,
so I take upon myself the duty of writing to you. It is a pleasure
to tell you how much I appreciate this dear book and how eagerly I
watch for it. I have been a reader for some time and think each
number is better than the last. I would like to see my letter in
print, and for fear it may be too long, will close with kind wishes to
all the readers and Dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit."
Your true friend, "BLUE BELL."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : It is a red-letter day with us when papa
brings each number of ST. NICHOLAS home, as all of us enjoy read-
ing it very much. We have been in England now nearly two
years, and we wish we were back in Kentucky again. We have seen
a great deal since we came, but we enjoy reading ST. NICHOLAS more
than all.: We are now anxiously looking forward for the ,May
number, which we shall all enjoy reading.
We are, your affectionate readers,
I (Maggie) am x3, Nellie is 12, and Alice will be 8 on Easter

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have an anecdote that I think might
please some of the little readers of ST. NICHOLAS. I shall call it
One day our dog's dinner was put out for him as usual in the
back-yard. In about five minutes, the servant, going through the
back-yard, saw, to her amazement, that the dog was giving a dinner-
party, for at the dish were our cat, our bantam cock and hen, and a
rat. The rat and cat were close together. The rat was a very bold
fellow, and avery cheeky" one, too, for he used to fight with quite a
big kitten, and after a while they became great friends.

SOUTH BOSTON, April, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please do me a great favor by
asking your girl-readers if any of them have ever succeeded in culti-



vating a vegetable garden, or have raised poultry? I am very
much interested in the question as to how girls may earn money at
home. In the city there are many ways of so doing, but in the
country very few ways seem to offer themselves. One of the most
healthful and interesting for country girls is farming on a small scale.
Of course, a girl must not expect to become rich, but consider-
able pocket-money can be earned in this way.
A well-attended strawberry-bed yields well, and repays one bounti-
fully; the raising of grapes, currants, raspberries, blackberries, and
other small fruits is. profitable. Then there are the vegetables; I
suppose a girl would think raising them to be outside her "sphere,"
but I have raised, in a half-acre garden, bushels of onions, tomatoes,
cabbages, turnips, potatoes, cucumbers, for pickling, and, in fact, all
of the common vegetables; they repaid me well, too, and I planted,
weeded, hoed, and harvested them all myself. You would hardly
believe how good a profit a little patch of land will yield, if properly
Besides gardening, taking care of poultry or lambs well repays a
girl for her trouble; but, of the two, poultry-keeping is the easierand
the more profitable in the end. A flock of pretty, shining hens was
dearer to me than all the puppies and kittens that ever saw daylight.
Eggs will always sell, and at Thanksgiving and Christmas dressed
poultry.is much in demand.
I have had a great deal of experience in farming, in all of its
various forms, from the raising of garden seeds to the gathering of
apples and rearing of stock; and I can advise any girl to take up
farming, for it is a pure, healthful, and pleasant occupation. I do
not live in the country now, but I take as much interest in what is
passing there as if I did.
I hope soon to hear from some of your rural friends who have had
experience in farming. Yours expectantly,

TERREBONNE, LA., Feb., 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been looking over the letters and
I see none from Louisiana, so I thought I would write to you. My Aunt
Mollie sent the ST. NICHOLAS to us as a Christmas present, and I
think it is such a splendid one. I think the Spinning-wheel stories
are so nice. All of Miss Louisa M. Alcott's stories are so interesting.
We live on a sugar plantation, and I like sugar rolling. I have
three sisters and one brother, and our baby sister is so sweet, she is
just beginning to talk; I cannot write very long letters because I am
not old enough. I am only ten. I want to see my letter in print
very much.
Your little unknown friend, L. G. B--.

WE have received correct answers from the following young friends
in reply to the little Baltimore boy's letter in the May Letter-box:
May De Forest Ireland, Aubrey T. Maguire, J. W. C., C. M. L.,
Ella S. Gould, Walter A. Mathews, A. C., Mamie Mead, K. L.,
A. H. C., Edgar G. Banta, Mary McGowan, Helen D. H., E. C.,
Charles Baldwin,.William E. Ireland, Phil. Jennings, J. D. W., Ma-
bel Holcombe, C. W. N., Kitty W. B., F. A. Frere. We have
also received pleasant letters from Phil. H. Sawyer, Bessie W.,
Estelle M., Carrie B. T., E. E. R., Auntie Grace, May C., G. H.
P. Tracie, Martie Rindland, J. J. Coachman, Lizzie Lee Filles,
James H. C. Richmond, Ina. M., Florence E. S., Mattie B. Wells,
"Hermes," Mina Nicholas, Mabel L.. F., J. M. M., Graie Knight,
Susie B. C., "Subscriber," Annie M., Addie L. Fries, Mabel
Douglas, Edwina Alberta, Questioner."


JULY finds the Association actively engaged in midsummer work.
The responses to circulars recently issued show that, as was to be
expected, many Chapters have disbanded, owing to the graduation
of classes, etc., but there is also shown a large increase in the mem-
bership of most of our branches. The amendments have been car-
ried by something more than the requisite three-fourths vote, and
the Amended Constitution is given in full in THE NEW HAND-
BOOK, which is now ready, price, 50 cents.


The subject of a General Convention of the Agassiz Association,
as proposed in May, has excited much interest. A change of plan
is suggested that seems to us excellent. It is that our meeting be
held in Philadelphia instead of Nashua. The Philadelphia Chap-
ters have expressed their willingness to accept the responsibility of
the necessary preparations, and the Nashua Chapter has gracefully
waived its prior claim.
It is proposed to hold the meeting on the 2d and 3d of September.
It is so nearly impossible to get at a full expression of opinion from
all our Chapters, that, to expedite matters, we venture to call the
meeting for Philadelphia on the two days mentioned, subject to the
approval of the various Chapters. The advantages of the city are
many: It is the home of several strong Chapters; it is central; it
has ample room for the whole of the Agassiz Association, and on
the 4th and 5th there is to assemble there the American Association
for the Advancement of Science,-whose meetings, as well as the
Electrical Exhibition of same date, will prove of great interest and
value to all. This question must now be promptly and definitely
decided, and we earnestly request the opinions of all Chapters, and
the names of those that can attend such meeting. If theresponses
are favorable, details will be given later.

The thanks of the A. A. are due to the writers of the following
generous offers:
On the subject of human physiology, I maybe able to assist by
answering questions. If so, I am at your service.

MILWAUKEE, WIS., March 30, '84.
Dear Sir. I am working on the jumping-spiders-attidae-of
the world, describing new species and getting ready to publish a
monograph of the family. I should be very happy to determine
spiders in this group from any locality for members of the A. A. I
will be very glad to give to the club that will send the best collec-
tion of jumping-spiders (the collection not to be less than fifteen
species) Hentz's United States Spiders, with Emerton's Notes, 21
plates and upward of four hundred figures. The spiders should be
in alcohol and ought to be sent to me before the last of October. Any
club that desires to compete had better communicate with me, and I
can then send them instructions that will aid them.
Yours truly, GEO. PECKHAM.
The very pleasant class in practical anatomy that Dr. Warren
began a month or two ago has been interrupted, from a most sad
necessity. Dr. Warren was suddenly called to go to Florida to
attend his father in a serious illness. As soon as he shall be able to
return, he will again communicate with his correspondents.
During the months of July and August, the President of the A.
A. will be away from Lenox, and for those months the regular
"Chapter Reports" may be omitted. All other correspondence will
be attended to as usual, though with a delay of a day or two, caused
by forwarding the mails.
No. Name. No. of Members Address.
623 Manlius, N. Y. (B)........ 6..C. H. Cuyler, St. John's
624 Abington, Conn. (A)....... 13..Miss Jessie E. L. Dennis.
625 Hudson, N. Y. (A)........ 4..Harry W. George.
626 Petoskey, Mich. (A) ....... x..W. B. Lawton.
627 Brighton, Ont. (A)........ 2..Miss Lizzie Squier.
628 Harrisonburg, Va. (A)..... 8. Mrs. F. A. Daingerfield.
629 Chicopee, Mass.(A).......24..Miss E. L. Mitchell, Box 210.
630 New York, N. Y, (Q)...... 6..W.T. Demarest,xo6VarickSt.
631 Fremont, O. (A)........... o..Theo. H. Jangk.
632 Davenport, Iowa (B)...... 7..Miss Sarah G. Foote.



633 Terre Haute, Ind. (B)..... 8..0. C. Newhinney.
634 Macon, Mo. (A)............6..C. W. Kimball.
635 Annapolis, Md. (A)....... 9..A. A.Hopkins, St.John'sColl.
636 Rockville, Ind. (A)..... 8E. C. Thurston.
637 Putnam, Conn. (A) ....... 7..Harry W. Chapman.
638 St. Louis, Mo. (D)........ 4..Frank M. Davis, 3857 Wash-
ington Ave.
639 Montclair, N. J. (A)...... 6.. Miss Lucy Parsons.
640 Millville, N. J. (A)........ 4..Carder Hayard.
641 Normal Park, Ill. (A) ..... 4. Miss CharlottePutnam,Bx.x73.
642 Florence, Mass. (A)....... 9..A. T. Bliss.
643 Higganum, Conn. (A).... 5.. Miss Estella E. Clark.
644 Philadelphia, Pa. (U)..... 4..M.C. Knabe, Jr., 47oN.7th St.
645 Bath, N. Y. (B).......... 5. Charles L. Kingsley.
646 Janesville, Wis. (A)....... 7 .Miss A. E. Prichard.
647 Union City, Mich. (A).... 9..Carl Spencer.
648 Peoria, Ill. (D)............ 6..H. J. Woodward.
649 Chicago, Ill. (V).......... 4. .J. H. Manny, 242 Bissel St.
650 Sandusky, O. (A).......... 5,.John Youngs, Jr., 415 Frank-
lin St.
338 Wareham, Mass. (B)...... 6,..Arthur Hammond.


Lepidoptera and correspondence.-Geo. C. Hollister, Old Nat.
Bank, Grand Rapids, Mich.
White Chinese rats.-J. P. Cotton, Newport, R, 1.
Birds' eggs.- H. J. Woodward, Peoria, Ill.
British eggs and lepidoptera.- L. Hayter, Gleuggle, Wood Lane,
Highgate, London, England.
Minerals for eggs.-W. G. Talmadge, Plymouth, Conn.
Eggs and coral (write first).- W. M. Clute, Iowa City, Iowa.
Buffalo's tooth, for iron ore.-Jessie Sharpnack, Grafton, D. T.
Eggs.-Albert Garrett, Lawrence, Kansas.
Bird-skins, eggs, and insects.-Carleton Gilbert, 1r6 Wildwood
Avenue, Jackson, Mich,
Correspondence with distant Chapters.-Frank H. Foster, Keene,
N. H. Box 307.
Channel coal, halite, hematite, limonite, selenite, for stilbite azur-
ite, amazon stone serpentine.-Robert E.Terry, Sec., Hudson, N.Y.
Correspondence.-J. H. Jones, Sec. Chap. 463, Dayton, 0.
Mounted microscopic objects, for insects.-Charles C. Osborn, 27
West Thirty-second Street, New York.
Illinois minerals.- Sec. Chap. 550, o8 N. Academy Street, Gales-
burgh, Ill.
Botanical specimens of California, for works (new or second-hand,
if in good order) on botany, geology, and mineralogy.-Mrs. E. H.
King, Napa, Cal.
Mounted diatoms, Isthmia nervosa, from Santa Cmr, for diatom-
aceous earth from Richmond, Va., or elsewhere.-L. M. King, Santa
Rosa, Cal.
Fossils of Lower Silurian, for coleoptera and lepidoptera.- G.
M., 35% Sherman Avenue, Cincinnati, 0.
Shells, minerals, and fossils.- Maude M. Lord, 75 Lamberton St.,
New Haven, Conn.
Green malachite, and others, for opalized wood, etc.- Herbert D.
Miles, 2417 Michigan Boulevard, Chicago.
Indicolite and many others, for minerals or insects.-E. R. Lar-
ned, 2546 S. Dearborn Street, Chicago, Ill.

98. Alligator (a).- The alligator is found only in fresh water,
while the crocodile lives in both fresh and salt water, usually in the
mouth of a large river where the tide comes in.
(6.) The lower canine teeth of the alligator fit into the notches in
the edge of the upper jaw, while in the crocodile the lower teeth fit
into pits in the upper jaw. This causes a difference in the outline
of the head, the muzzle of the crocodile being narrowed behind
the nostrils, while that of the alligator forms an unbroken line to the
mouth.-Josie Ford.
99. Moss on trees.-A very long kind of moss grows on tamarack
trees here (Pine City, Minn.) It grows from the tree about two
feet, then widens out at the end into a sort of plate from which more
runners spring, which again widen into a plate, and so on. I have
found pieces eight feet long.-E. L. Stephan.
[The name of this moss, please?]
zoo. Pebbles, in answer to C. F. G.- Owing to alternate freezing
and thawing, large blocks of rock are broken from the mountain
side. These are broken into smaller fragments by rolling and at-
trition, and by the action of the water and friction against each
other are ground down into rounded forms called pebbles. For a
full and clear account, see Pebbles, published at 30c. by Ginn &
Heath, Boston.
zox. Blue-jay.--March 8th. It was snowing hard. Iespied a blue-
jay in an apple-tree, picking away like mad at a frozen apple. The
spiteful, hammer-like force with which .he pecked at it, attested
te power of his bill as well as his hunger. He stayed a full half-

hour, the chilling blast ruffling his feathers, and the snow at times
completely veiling him. He appeared very tired. He probably
got scarcely a spoonful of frozen apple.- L. M. Howe, Hallowell,


604. Fredonia, N. Y.- Our Chapter is working with steady
enthusiasm. We meet every Wednesday for two hours' united
study. Our head-quarters, Agassiz Hall," already has a scientific
look.- Mrs. J. N. Curtis, Sec.
595. Oneonta, N. Y.-In astronomy we think we have been
quite successful, as when we began we did not know the name of a
single star, and have had no one to help us except ST. NICHOLAS.
Now we can trace the Ecliptic by means of its principal stars, and
have learned the names of all the constellations of the Zodiac.-
Jessie E. Jenks.
544. Oxford, Mis.--We have raised tadpoles from the spawn,
have caught and placed in a tank three minnows, one perch, and
one catfish, which we observe daily; we have several cocoons
awaiting transformation, and a large white grub in a clay ball.
Great eagerness to learn pervades this little Chapter.-C. Wood-
ward Hutson.
246. Bethlehem, Pa.- Our collection of woods contains a ma-
jority of all that grow here. Our department of bird-skins is grow-
ing rapidly. Our minerals are fine, not very large, but all good
specimens. We have collected 147 specimens of insects during the
year. At an entertainment we realized a net profit of $4.oo0.-
Geo. G. Grider.
261. E. Boston.-Please change the name of our Secretary to
Miss Ruth A. Odiorne, ix8 Lexington St.
135. Jackson, Mich.-We now have sixteen members, and all
are very much interested. We have been obliged to change our
Secretary to Mr. James Bennett, 306 First St.
537. Mansfield, 0.-The class from the High School visited our
museum recently, and expressed a strong desire to enter the lists
and become practical workers, which convinced us that even we
could be of some benefit. We will offer to the Chapter sending us
the largest and best collection of coleoptera or lepidoptera by
November rst, a beautiful specimen of native silver from Chihua-
hua. We respectfully solicit correspondence, with a view to ex-
change, from all working Chapters.- E. Wilkinson, Sec.
532. Lewickley, Pa. -At every meeting we have at least three
essays, and the best one is placed in the scrap-book.-M. A.
Christy, Sec.
413. Denver, Col. -At our last meeting we had an essay on
Audubon's Warbler, skins of both sexes being shown to illustrate
the paper, also on Herring Gull, and Great Northern Shrike (speci-
mens shown), the Burrowing Owl, and Bullock's Oriole. One of
our number prepared over one hundred bird-skins while in the
Rocky Mountains this summer, some of which are very rare here,
among them the Black Swift. --W. H. Henderson, Cor. Sec.
138. Warren, Me. -We had an interesting discussion on the
question, "Resolved, that a knowledge of Natural History is of
more value to the farmer than a knowledge of Mathematics." Can
any one tell us what time is represented by the rings of a beet?
-A. M. Hilt.
229. Chicago, Ill. Here is a specimen of our meetings: Met at
4 P. M., Pres. Davis in the chair. Only two members absent.
Music. Appointment of Critic. Minutes of previous meeting.
Secretary's report. Treasurer's report. Essay, Camphor. Mu-
sic. Select reading, Wild Cat. Experiment with camphor.
Essay, Insect Collecting.- Criticism of previous : ..-ci... .lusic.
Select reading, Blue Jay. Essay, Chamois. L -:.-~., the
extraction of pure copper from the ore. Experiment, production
of hydrogen from zinc by hydrochloric acid. Select reading,
Fish. Essay, the Llama. Music.
The meeting was very pleasant. The essay on insect collecting
was illustrated by drawings, 4 x 4 in.- Ezra Lamed, Sec.
[It would be a pleasure to attend a meeting like that.]

514. Jowa City.- Our essays are written on letter-paper with
wide margins for binding. We shall'bind them every year and
keep them.-W. M. Clute, Sec.
485. Brooklyn Village, O.-We now number over forty mem-
bers. We have in our room an excellent picture of Agassiz. At
each meeting, the time is divided into quarter hours for the different
branches of Nat. Hist., after which there is general "discussion.
-Lewis B. Foote.

All communications concerning the Agassiz Association must be
addressed to the President,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.





EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters,
and the beheaded letters, when read in the order here given, will
spell the name of a distinguished sculptor.
CRoss-WORDs: I. Behead healing substances and leave charity.
2. Behead solitary and leave desolate. 3. Behead a river of Europe
and leave a stone used for sharpening instruments. 4. Behead the
plural of that and leave covering for the feet. 5. Behead listens
and leave refuges. 6. Behead a fruit and leave to subsist. 7. Be-
head a arrow slip of paper affixed to anything to denote its contents
or character and leave a man's name. 8. Behead a seaport-town of
England and leave above. 9. Behead fanciful and leave to distribute.

t *

-~ ,

EACH of the fourteen small pictures may be described by a
word of four letters. Behead each of these words and put another
letter in place of the one removed. The new words thus formed all
appertain to the central figure. Example: Boot, foot. /
ONE pleasant morning in June I started with some young friends
to ride on horseback to the house of my Aunt (i). a city of Italy,
where we were to spend a few days. The party consisted of my
cousin (2) a cape ofNewn Jersey, my sister (3) a city ofFrance, my
brother (4) a city of New South Wales, and my cousins (5)
a cape of Virginia, and (6) a lake in New York. My sister
(7) a city of France rode a beautiful (8) sea between Europe
and Asia (9) a group of islands north of Scotland pony, which
we had named (so) an island i. te Gtlf ofSt. Lawrence.
A pleasant breeze was blowing, the (ix) one oftle Hebrides was

(12) a cape ofIreland, and the forenoon passed gayly. About mid-
day we discovered, a little to the (t3) cape of Norway of the road, a
pleasant grove, where e decided to stop and have luncheon. (14) A
cafe of New Jersey blew a tiny (15) cape of Soult America, which
she had hung upon her saddle, and we sat down to a luncheon of
cold (16) country ofjEurope, (17) a city of Austria bread, some (18)
islands in the Pacific ocean, and a dozen (19) rivers of Cape Colony.
We had a hard pull to get the (2o) city of Ireland from the bot-
tle of (21) county of England sauce, but it was at length removed.
The boys gathered sticks, our little kettle boiled, and soon the fra.
grant (22) river of Germany of (23) one of the Sunda islands coffee
filled the air. Our luncheon eaten, we were soon on our way again;
but the sun was almost obscured by clouds, the (24) name given to
the ulper fart of the Big Horn River had risen, and we feared that
the day begun so pleasantly would end by being (25) a river forning
Part ofthe northern boundary of the United States. Our little party
became very doleful, and (26) a lake in New York, like the mis-
chievous (27) an island south/ of England he is, began to tell an
absurd story called (28) a sea between -'" .
of Georgia, the (30) county of central .
of Asia scout.
As he was regaling us with this thrilling narration, an old woman
appeared in the road before us with (32) an island belonging to New
York gray hair hanging about her shoulders, and a bright (33) sea
east of China (34) islands west of Africa perched upon her
finger. We were all startled at this strange apparition, especially
after listening to blood-curdling stories, but we tried to appear (35)
a large lake in North America to (36) a cape of North Carolitn,
and rode bravely by. Just then the sun broke through the clouds,
and after a brisk canter of half an hour, we drew rein at the house
of Aunt (37) a city of Italy, and were not sorry to say (38) a cafe
of Greenland to riding expeditions for that day. ANNIE ACV,


5 7

I o . 0 2

3 o . 0 4

6 8

FRAME: From I to 2, crystallized cauk, in which the crystals are
small; from 3 to 4, food; from 5 to 6, an instrument for examining
flowers; from 7 to 8, shrubs and bushes upon which animals browse.
INCLUDED WORD-SQUARE: I. The stone of which the letters of
the frame from I to 2 name a crystal. 2. A fairy. 3. A song. 4.
A gold coin formerly current in Great Britain. J. P. B.


ONE word is concealed in each sentence.
a. Years ago, the magi learned many strange arts from Eastern
sages. 2. Let us play tag at Estelle's house, this afternoon. 3.
From the brief item she read me, I was unable to form any
opinion. 4. Tell Emma on no account to be late. 5. Yes, say we
will surely be there on time. zvx.


My first is a kind of detective,
'T is oft used at a meeting elective;
And, whether for best or for worst,
'T is the custom to follow my first.

When Jack to the fair took young Bett,
He danced with her every set;
I think it may safely be reckoned
He thought the whole thing was my second.

As through the green fields they returned,
Brave Jack, whom Bett never had spurned,
He gathered my whole, and, as love's token, gave
To the girl who had made him her captive and slave.
w. H. A.


NOVEL ACROSTIC. i. In heliotrope. 2. A Latin conjunction. 3. To fortify. 4. Part
of a coin.' 5. To inspect closely. 6. A German personal pronoun.
EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters. 7- In heliotrope.
When rightly guessed and placed one below another, in the order III Useful in warm weather. 2. A valley. 3. A spear. 4.
here given, the third row of letters (reading downward) will spell Closely confined. DOWNWARD: I. In fortune. 2. A Latin prep-
what our forefathers fought for; and the fifth row names what is position. 3. A short slumber. 4. To slide. S. To increase. 6.
dear to all young people on a certain day. Two-thirds of a termination. 7. In fortune. DYCIE.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Ungracefully. 2. Terse. 3. Commanded.
4. To simulate. 5. Portrays. 6. Directed. 7.A small dagger
8. Subtracts. 9. To diversify. zo. Longs for. si. Made safe. EASY INVERSIONS.
12. Treachery. CYRIL DEANE.
SEXTUPLE CROSSES. EXAMPLE: Invert an apartment and make to secure. Answer:
Room, moor.
Z 2. Invert fate and make disposition. 2. Invert a color and make
a poet. 3. Invert enmity and make bleak. 4. Invert moisture
and make to marry. 5. Invert a small body of water and make
3 a noose. 6. Invert a Roman magistrate and make to cutoff. 7. In-
9 o1 xx 4 12 13 14 vert an Arabian prince and make hoar-frost. 8. Invert dishes and
make a sudden breaking. PAUL REESE.

I. FROM 9 to Ii, a boy's nickname; from I to 3, part of a fish;
from 1a to 14, a child; from 5 to 8, to throw off; from 9 to 14, a
blessing: from r to 8, completed.
II. From 9 to xx, a vehicle; from r to 3, an inclosure; from 12
to 14, a snare; from 5 to 8, a portable lodge; from 9 to x4, the select
council of an executive government; from i to 8, contrite.
III. From 9 to Ix, a poisonous serpent; from I to 3, to disfigure;
from 12 to 14, a color; from 5 to 8, a precious metal; from 9 to 14,
longed for; from I to 8, a flower. -DYCIE. an Q(8 3 Mia4 I

CROSS-WORDS (three letters each): x. A body of lawyers. 2. A
man's name. 3. A segment of a circle. 4. A bond.
Pr;-. -i. ri strike; finals, a grain. Primals and finals, when read
in. .:",=.-:.. F., form a girl's name. The four central letters of the .
a.!. .. .. a be successively transposed to mean a bar of iron, the
couch of a wild beast, and one who perverts the truth. F. A. w.- '---


I. ACROSS: i. A month. 2. A loud noise. 3. A color. 4. Stained. .... -
DowNWARD: i. Injury. 2. Aloft. 3. Thelimbofananimal. 4. A
measure. 5. A song. 6. A personal pronoun. 7. In judge. FIRST decipher the inscription on the base of the column.
II. ACROSS: i. What all expect in summer. 2. A snare. From the letters formingit, spell the names of the six articles below
3. Deep mud. 4. A stringed instrument of music. DowNWARD: it. G. W. B.


SHAKSPERIAN PUZZLE. With no less confidence than boys pur- BEHEADINGS. Beheaded letters, Whittier. Cross-words: i
suing summer butterflies." -Act 4. Scene VI.- Monogram, W-rest. 2. H-over. 3. I-deal. 4. T-ally. 5. T-rout. 6. I-rate.
McCullough.- CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Gondola. 7. E-late. 8. R-over.
DICKENS CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centralletters, Gregsbury; Cross- BURIED FLOWERS. x. Orchis. 2. Sunflower. 3. Tea-rose. 4.
words: x. garGery. 2. staRtop. 3- squEers. 4. meaGles. 5. Feverfew. 5. Oxalis. 6. Sumach. 7. Clematis. 8. Sweet-pea.
podSnap. 6. herBert. 7. smaUker. 8. ledRook. 9. graYper. DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primalh, Charles; finals, Mathews. Cross-
ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.: .. Cod. 2. Oil. 3. Doll. 4. Lid.: 5. words: I. CharM. 2. HeclA. 3. AlloT. 4. RancH. 5. LithE
Mill. 6. Coil. 7. Viol. 6. EndoW. 7. SealS. PROVERB PUZZLE. Bunker Hill.
CONCEALED HALF SQUARE. :. Potomac. 2. Operas. 3. Tenet. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Slumber, Cross-words: r. conSume.
4. Ores. 5. Mat. 6. As. 7. C. 2. soLid. 3. nUt. 4. M. 5. ABe. 6. stEer. 7. leaRned.

THE names of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO APRIL PUZZLES were received, too late for acknowledgment in the June number, from Lida.Belf, Canada, 2- Bella and
Cora Wehl, Frankfort, Germany, 5.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May so, from L. S. T.-Paul Reese-Arthur Gride-Rex
Ford- S. R. T.-Maggie T. Turrill "Johnny Duck," Highland Mills.- Kina-- Hattie, Clara, and Mamma -"Daisy, Pansy, and
Sweet William Charles H. Kyte Hugh and Cis Francis W. Islip -Nicoll and Mary Ludlow Madeleine Vultee.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May so, from Maggie L. and Addie S., I -Russell K. Miller, 5-
Navajo, 6 Minnie G. Morse, 4 R. McKean Barry, I Pep and Maria, 1o Emma and Ada, i Ella S. Gould, r Carrie Howard,
F. N. Betts, 2 "Bubber, Nannie, and B.," 7 Roy Macfarland, x Jennie McBride, i-H. D. A., 3- Emily Sydeman, 1 A.
and B., a- James W. Thompson, 5 Maurice Sharp, Jessie A. Brahams, Fred. A. Barnes, 2--Karl Miner, 3- Sallie Swan, 2-
Edward Bancroft, 3 Bessie A. Jackson, 3 Bertie, 2 "Yelbis," Raphael A. Weed, 2 Birdie Alberger, 3- Solon, Theseus,
and Lycurgus," 4- Edith and Lawrence Butler, 3- Grace, Maud, and May, 3- Lulu F., a S. H. Rippey, i Imo and Grace, to
R. H. and R. C. G., --Eflie K. Talboys, 5-Katherine Smith, 2-Herbert Gaytes, 6-Hester Bruce, 3 -Jennie and Birdie K., 4-
Jennie Balch, 6-Alexande rand Freddie Laidlaw, 1o-Sallie Viles, 7-H.Coale, i-L. M. and E. D., 8-H. J. Dodd, 5-Sterne, 7-
Mary E. Kaighn, 7-Ruth and Samuel Camp, 9- Elaine, 3-Emiline Danzel, --George Habenicht, 2-Hattie, Lillie, Ida, and
Olive, 7-Marguerite Kyte, a- Margaret and Muriel Grundy, 4-Arthur L. Mudge, i-Ida and Edith Swanwick, 8-Eleanor and
Maude Peart, I -Georgia L. Gilmore, 5--"Captain Nemo," II -Jessie A. Platt, 9-" Penn Forest," 9-Ed and Louis, 8-L. C. B.,
3 Belle G. M., 9- George Lyman Waterhouse, so Edith Helen Moss, I Willie Sheraton, 3.