<%BANNER%>
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 The little quaker sinner
 The Dalzells of Daisydown
 An ocean notion
 The queen's museum
 A smart boy
 The bird matinee
 Say?
 Poor Robinson Crusoe
 Benny's horse
 "Boys"
 Ninth spinning-wheel story
 Historic boys
 Fraulein Mina Smidt goes to...
 The playmate hours
 Farmer Nick's scarecrow
 Marvin and his boy hunters
 A floral letter
 For very little folk: Little...
 The St. Nicholas almanac
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 Preserving-time
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


BLDN NEH CCLC ICDL UFSPEC



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mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
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mods:languageTerm text English
mods:location
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:role
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).
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mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued September 1884
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mods:title St. Nicholas.
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mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 11
mods:number 11
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No. 11
11
mods:subject
mods:topic Children's literature
Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas: vol. 11, no. 11
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Saint Nicholas
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UF00065513_00147.mets
METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
METS:div DMDID ORDER 0 main
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
METS:fptr FILEID
P2
D2 Frontispiece
P3 826
D3 The little quaker sinner 3 Poem
P4 827
D4 Dalzells Daisydown 4 Chapter
P5 828
P6 829
P7 830
P8 831
P9 832 5
P10 833 6
P11 834 7
P12 835 8
D5 An ocean notion
P13 836
D6 queen's museum
P14 837
P15 838
P16 839
P17 840
P18 841
P19 842
P20 843
P21 844
D7 A smart boy
P22 845
D8 bird matinee
P23 846
D9 Say 9
P24 847 (MULTIPLE)
P25 848
D10 Poor Robinson Crusoe 10
P26 849
D11 Benny's horse
P27 850
P28 851
P29 852
P30 853
P31 854
P32 855
D12 "Boys" 12
P33 856
D13 Ninth spinning-wheel story 13
P34 857
P35 858
P36 859
P37 860
P38 861
P39 862
D14 Historic boys 14
P40 863
P41 864
P42 865
P43 866
P44 867
D15 Fraulein Mina Smidt goes to school 15
P45 868
P46 869
P47 870
P48 871
P49 872
P50 873
P51 874
P52 875
D16 playmate hours 16
P53 876
P54 877
D17 Farmer Nick's scarecrow 17
P55 878
D18 Marvin and his hunters 18
P56 879
P57 880
P58 881
P59 882
P60 883
P61 884
P62 885
P63 886
P64 887
P65 888
P66 889
D19 floral letter 19
P67 890
P68 891
P69 892
P70 893
D20 For very folk: Little Bertie 20
P71
P72 895
D26 Nicholas almanac 21
P73 896
D21 Jack-in-the-pulpit 22
P75 898
P76 899
D27 Preserving-time 23
P74 897
D22 letter-box
P77 900
P78 901
P79 902
D23 riddle-box 25
P80 903
P81 904
D24 26 Back
P83
P84
D25 27 Spine
P85
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St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00147
 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
regular
 Subjects
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
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: UF00065513:00147
 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
    Frontispiece
        Page 826
    The little quaker sinner
        Page 827
    The Dalzells of Daisydown
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
        Page 831
        Page 832
        Page 833
        Page 834
        Page 835
    An ocean notion
        Page 836
    The queen's museum
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
        Page 844
    A smart boy
        Page 845
    The bird matinee
        Page 846
    Say?
        Page 847
        Page 848
    Poor Robinson Crusoe
        Page 849
    Benny's horse
        Page 850
        Page 851
        Page 852
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
    "Boys"
        Page 856
    Ninth spinning-wheel story
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
    Historic boys
        Page 863
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
    Fraulein Mina Smidt goes to school
        Page 868
        Page 869
        Page 870
        Page 871
        Page 872
        Page 873
        Page 874
        Page 875
    The playmate hours
        Page 876
        Page 877
    Farmer Nick's scarecrow
        Page 878
    Marvin and his boy hunters
        Page 879
        Page 880
        Page 881
        Page 882
        Page 883
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
    A floral letter
        Page 890
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
    For very little folk: Little Bertie
        Page 894
        Page 895
    The St. Nicholas almanac
        Page 896
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 898
        Page 899
    Preserving-time
        Page 897
    The letter-box
        Page 900
        Page 901
        Page 902
    The riddle-box
        Page 903
        Page 904
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text














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GATHERING AUTUMN LEAVES IN THE MOUNTAINS.


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ST. NICHOLAS.


VOL. XI. SEPTEMBER, 1884. No. ii.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]



THE LITTLE QUAKER SINNER.

BY LUCY LINCOLN MONTGOMERY.

A LITTLE Quaker maiden, with dimpled cheek and chin,
Before an ancient mirror stood, and viewed her form within.
She wore a gown of sober gray, a cape demure and prim,
With only simple fold and hem, yet dainty, neat, and trim.
Her bonnet, too, was gray and stiff; its only line of grace
Was in the lace, so soft and white, shirred round her rosy face.

Quoth she: "Oh, how I hate this hat! I hate this gown and cape!
I do wish all my clothes were not of such outlandish shape !
The children passing by to school have ribbons on their hair;
The little girl next door wears blue; oh, dear, if I could dare,
I know what I should like to do "- (The words were whispered low,
Lest such tremendous heresy should reach her aunts below.)

Calmly reading in the parlor sat the good aunts, Faith and Peace,
Little dreaming how rebellious throbbed the heart of their young niece.
All their prudent humble teaching willfully she cast aside,
And, her mind now fully conquered by vanity and pride,
She, with trembling heart and fingers, on a hassock sat her down,
And this little Quaker sinner sewed a tuck into her gown /

Little Patience, art thou ready? Fifth day-meeting time has come,
Mercy Jones and Goodman Elder with his wife have left their home."
'T was Aunt Faith's sweet vice that called her, and the naughty little maid-
Gliding down the dark old stair-way-hoped their notice to evade,
Keeping shyly in their shadow as they went out at the door,
Ah, never little Quakeress a guiltier conscience bore!

Dear Aunt Faith walked looking upward; all her thoughts were pure and holy;
And Aunt Peace walked gazing downward, with a humble mind and lowly.
But "tuck tuck / chirped the sparrows, at the little maiden's side;
And, in passing Farmer Watson's, where the barn-door opened wide,






[SEPTEMBER,


THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


Every sound that issued from it, every grunt and every cluck,
Seemed to her affrighted fancy like "a tuck!" "a tuck! "a tuck!"

In meeting Goodman Elder spoke of pride and vanity,
While all the Friends seemed looking round that dreadful tuck to see.
How it swelled in its proportions, till it seemed to fill the air,
And the heart of little Patience grew heavier with her care.
Oh, the glad relief to her, when, prayers and exhortations ended,
Behind her two good aunties her homeward way she wended!

The pomps and vanities of life she 'd seized with eager arms,
And deeply she had tasted of the world's alluring charms,-
Yea, to the dregs had drained them, and only this to find:
All was vanity of spirit and vexation of the mind.
So, repentant, saddened, humbled, on her hassock she sat down,
And this little Quaker sinner ripped the tuck out of her gown!


BY

VITO 13LAKIC


r,.r don't know Daisydown, do
3you say? It is six miles from
,. Denham station, and three by
A boat from Hemingway, if you
V' go inside Bear Island,-sev-
1 en, if you go outside, over the
..y's~Z"-: bar. The village overflows,
---.a. so to speak, from its hollow
among the foot-hills, by one narrow picturesque
street down to the pier at Daisydown Sands. It is
scarcely more than a collection of quaint, grass-
grown lanes and alleys, plentifully shaded by elms,
willows, and silver-leaf poplars--dear, old-fash-
ioned trees with houses dotted down here and
*there among them.
Daisydown is the most original place I ever saw;
there is a strong flavor of individuality about
-every person and everything in it, from old Cap'n
Azariah Thistle, who keeps the store by the pier,
and who thinks it quite the proper thing to inquire
your lineage, occupation, and circumstances, as


soon as he learns your name, to Miss Peabody
at the extreme other end of Daisydown, who has
such a mania for clean aprons that she keeps a
drawer full of them, and in any unusual or ex-
citing circumstances,--and for no earthly reason
that any sane body can see,- makes haste to put
one on.
Every one knows the Dalzells of Daisydown.
From time immemorial the race have lived in Dal-
zell Hall, which was built before Revolutionary
days by some dead-and-gone Dalzell, who had a
righteous horror of going upstairs; for it is only
a story-and-a-half high, with sixteen rooms on the
ground floor, and all manner of angles; to say
nothing of a court in the interior, of a delight-
ful oriental style. The garret is without partition
or plaster; a great mysterious barn of a place,
full of bewitching dim light from the odd old dor-
mer-windows, and only accessible from the tower
stairs. Yes, there is a tower, too, some sixty feet
high! The-room under it, on the first floor, is


828


~;~ur :~-i.
_.i







THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


called the tower room; from it the stairs ascend,
and above its ceiling they wind about the square
walls to the top, with a queer little door in the
second story, leading to the garret, in one corner
of which the Dalzell boys have fitted up a good
gymnasium.
Outwardly, Dalzell Hall is a mass of ivy and
woodbine, Virginia creeper, and other vines, from
end to end. From its hill it commands the blue
sea to the east and south; to the west lies Daisy-
down in its hollows, and northward across the
country you catch, on a clear day, the glimmer of
Denham church-spires. The grounds are ample,
but neglected, as every one says, since the present
Mr. Dalzell's wife died. A quiet, proud man is Mr.
Tripton Dalzell; absorbed in business in the city;
running out to Denham by the cars, and down to
Daisydown by carriage at all sorts of odd moments;
apparently leaving his boys entirely to their own
devices, but in reality keeping an eagle eye upon
them and their doings. He can trust his house-
keeper and servants; they all are middle-aged
people, who have lived at the Hall before ever he
married and brought his wife there.
If you happen to be on the pier at nine on a
breezy June morning, when the tug "Orion" comes
over from Hemingway, you probably will see on
Miriconnet Head a gray horse bearing an agile
young rider dressed in navy blue; and that rider
will be Ranald Dalzell. Or if you choose to poke
among the rocky glens and valleys south of Daisy-
down, you will probably happen upon a slender,
black-eyed, fifteen-year-old chap, with a geologist's
hammer and bag, who is sure to be Houghton
Dalzell. And again, if you take a boat and skim
out beyond the bar, in the quiet of a dull, bluish
afternoon, with the sea like glass, and a yellow
streak all along the horizon, you will certainly find
a little dory lying, mast unshipped, at anchor, and
a brown, wiry lad with a restless, alert eye, fishing
over the stern. Whereupon, your boatman will
remark:
It's just Master Phil Dalzell, sir."
And by and by, between the flaws that pres-
ently come from the bluish-gray clouds, you will
see the little dory, close-reefed, skimming away
over the long waves for Daisydown pier.
Drown him ?" says your boatman; "you can't
drown Master Phil, sir; he 's the fishiest fish of
'em all."
Houghton and Phil are brothers; Phil is thir-
teen. Ranald is an orphan cousin who has grown
up at Dalzell Hall, and might also be a brother
for all the difference you can see. There is a
strong affection between the lads. Ranald's is, by
all odds, the most remarkable character. Gray
alert eyes, red hair, and plentiful freckles, has


Ranald; a well-knit, supple, "stocky" figure
for a fourteen-year-old boy; a quick temper kept
under by a tremendous will; plenty of invention,
tact, and self-assurance. Oh, Ranald is my favorite,
- I own up to it. For the other two,- they
are smart enough. You never saw a Dalzell of
Daisydown that was n't smart,-a real boy or
man, and quite up to his time.
But the glimpses of the Dazells here presented
are taken during the summer vacation, remember.
With Daisydown in its winter aspect, we have
nothing to do. The boys were back from Boston
schools to the dear old delightful home nooks and
occupations. What Boston schools did you say?
Well, I shall keep the secret of Daisydown and
my heroes, but I will just hint that Chauncy Hall
may have known and held the Dalzells.
And now to my story.

It was in the breakfast-room at seven on a June
morning that Mr. Tripton Dalzell sat at table with
his three boys. There was always much lively
talk at meal-times,-that is, among the boys.
Mr. Tripton Dalzell had a way of encouraging
people to talk, and saying next to nothing himself.
In this way he knew his boys thoroughly. They
never felt his presence to be a restraint, and yet,
when he spoke, there was instant obedience. On
that particular June morning, Phil, the youngest
Dalzell, was in a very exuberant mood, and when
Mrs. Merriam, the housekeeper, said to him:
" Your father spoke to you, Master Phil," he was
in the act of recovering himself from a dive under
the table after Prince, that dog having feloniously
appropriated a whole biscuit from the edge of the
table beside Phil's plate.
"Put the dog out, Phil; I wish to speak to
you," said Mr. Tripton Daizell.
Phil obeyed. There was a business-like expres-
sion on his father's face which subdued all the boys
into a feeling of expectancy.
"We are about to receive a new inmate into
our house," said Mr. Dalzell, in a matter-of-fact
way. "I think a day's notice will serve you,-
for getting accustomed to the idea, I mean. I
have a New York friend who has a daughter
about Ranald's age. She left the city yesterday
for the summer, and she will arrive here to-mor-
row. Mrs. Merriam will take charge of her, and
I shall expect you three boys to make her vacation
as agreeable as you can."
Silence and dismay reigned around the table.
Was this the end of their delightful vacation
plans? To be tied to a girl's apron-strings all
summer? How about the long fishing trip in the
big yacht with old Cap'n Azariah? How about
the glorious geologizing trips on Daisydown


829







THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


Ledges, and the wild gallops over hill and holt,
moor and fen ? "
The Dalzells looked at one another; Mrs. Mer-
riam's mouth twitched at the corners, but Mr.
Tripton Dalzell was coolly impassive.
Miss Molly Arnold is likely to arrive by any
one of three routes," proceeded Mr. Dalzell, con-
sequently, to insure our meeting her, I must assign
each of you to a special station.
The Dalzells opened their mouths simultane-
ously, as if in haste to speak; but closed them
again, as Mr. Dalzell continued:
Houghton, I desire you to take Judy and the
open buggy and go to the Eastern station at Den-
ham to meet the ten o'clock train to-morrow
morning. Phil at the same hour must be at the
Junction with Pat and the top buggy. Ranald
can sail over to Hemingway by eight o'clock. He
may use the Nocturne.'"
The boys' faces were a study. Mr. Tripton
Dalzell had shrewdly mingled the bitter with the
sweet. Judy and Pat were two fine, matched
trotters that Mr. Dalzell rarely allowed the boys
to touch. And Master Ranald, although he
considered himself fully capable of it, was
seldom permitted to handle alone the yacht
"Nocturne."
Three tongues broke loose at once as Mr. Dal-
zell left the breakfast-room.
"There 's a fine piece of luck for us !" declared
Houghton, sarcastically, roused from his usual calm.
"A namby-pamby city-girl,-all dress and fine
airs," sputtered Phil angrily.
"1She wont take to me, that's one comfort,"
said Ranald with a good deal of philosophy.
"She'll call me 'that red-headed boy,' and let
me alone. Girls never do like me. She '11 want
to geologize with Houghton,-she '11 get a hammer
and bag the first day I And he threw his head
back and laughed.
"Indeed, she '11 not! declared Houghton; "or
if she does, I'11 lead her a chase over rocks and
brambles that she wont take but once. Do you
suppose I'11 have my vacation spoiled?"
Anybody coming with her?" asked Phil, as the
housekeeper arose.
Nobody," said Mrs. Merriam, quietly. "Her
mother is a very fashionable woman, but her father
insists upon bringing up the daughter according to
his notions; so he has had her learn many things
that her mother does n't fancy; and now, instead of
sending her to Saratoga, he wishes her to come
here for rest and quiet. The only thing she is
instructed to 'keep up with' is her music."
SThe Dalzells were all musical, so the latter
intelligence was well received.
"She 'll be fashionable, though," said Phil,


with a groan. Whoever saw a girl that did n't
dote on dress ?"
Mrs. Merriam smiled quietly,-she was always
quiet,- and went away to her duties.
Groan as they would, the morrow came, and
with it the hour of the expected arrival. Mr.
Tripton Dalzell went away by an early train to his
business ; and at the proper hour, Phil and Hough-
ton departed for their respective stations.
But early in the morning, before even Mr. Trip-
ton was astir, Ranald came down in his blue boat-
ing suit, with his jacket over his arm. The
housekeeper met him at the door.
Here 's your lunch, Master Ranald. There 's
cold chicken and ham sandwiches in the basket,
and pie and jelly. Here 's coffee in the bottle,
and there 's your jug of water."
If she does n't come, I 'm to have all these good
things myself," said Ranald, laughing. "What
a picnic I '11 have "
The housekeeper smiled gently, and said, I
think she '11 come."
Ranald's countenance fell.
And I think you '11 like her, Master Ranald,"
added Mrs. Merriam.
But Ranald's mind immediately took a touch
of boyish contrariness. He said to himself, I
wont like her."
Nevertheless he enjoyed the prospect of a sail
in the Nocturne."
Peter came from his early garden work to help
carry down the things. They went down the rose-
alley that led to the boat-houses and to Mr. Dal-
zell's private pier. The fragrant, dew-wet blossoms
brushed Ranald's shoulder as he passed under the
thickets; beneath, onthe shady ground, were great
beds of lily-of-the-valley. At the hedge-gate Ran-
ald stopped and looked down the steep declivity,
over the sands, and far out on the quiet morning
sea. How still everything was! The sun was
rising; the beautiful glow of golden pink flushed
sea and sky. Peter had gone on before; Ranald
heard the clank of the mooring chain as he un-
loosed the dory, and ran down to the boat-house
to join him.
"The wind 's fair- what there is of it," said
Peter,; but ye '11 have to beat back."
I don't care," answered Ranald, as they
pushed off.
Mebbe the young leddy wont like it," sug-
gested Peter.
"She wont come by way of Hemingway," an-
swered Ranald, with a laugh. I 'm safe enough
-never fear. Here we are. Now then, hand
over the things, Peter. Oh- hold up! Now I
believe I 've actually forgotten her name Fancy
going after a girl whose name you don't know "


830


[SEPTEMBER,







884.1 TIE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN. 831


"It was Miss Molly Arnold, I 'm thinking, re-
sponded Peter, with a sly smile on his weather-
beaten face, as the dory fell off from the yacht's
stern.
So it was. All right, now Good-bye,
Peter," cried Ranald.
Good luck to ye," answered the gardener, as
the dory glided back over the smooth waters of the
bay.
Left alone, Master Ranald had the sails up and
the moorings cast off in a jiffy; and as the "Noc-
turne rounded Miriconnet Head, she caught a puff
from westward that made her bend to her work in
gallant style, and set the ripple swirling about her
bows.
But the wind came in variable puffs and flaws,
and as Master Ranald chose to go outside Bear
Island, it was half-past seven o'clock before the
"Nocturne" glided gracefully alongside the pier
at Hemingway, which was a fashionable shore
resort.
Now I suppose I 'm to go to the station. Won-
der how I'11 know her, or what she's like," mut-
tered Ranald, mightily discontented; and up to
the station he went. A small multitude of girls
thronged the station after the eight o'clock train
came thundering in, but none of them seemed in
need of his protection. So at ilii'-..i eight,
seeing no signs of any possibi N hli Molly
Arnold, he departed lighter of heart, and won-
dering whether Houghton or Phil was to enjoy
the society of the new-comer.
There was the usual fashionable crowd on the pier
and promenade. The hotels had emptied them-
selves on the sands; everywhere people were bar-
gaining with boatmen, and not a few cast envious
eyes on the handsome Nocturne." There was a
crowd of ladies and gentlemen inspecting it. Ran-
ald was rather pleased at this. As he untied the
painter, drawing upon himself the attention of all,
he felt a touch on his arm, and a voice said:
I beg pardon, but are n't you one of the Dal-
zell boys ? "
Ranald turned quite cold with the suddenness
of the shock. He looked around into the face of a
self-possessed damsel, not so tall as himself by
two inches. His first impressions were of a pair
of sharp hazel eyes and an inquisitive nose
under a blue hat, a profusion of fluffy blonde hair,
and a generally perplexing mingling of navy-blue
flannel and garnet ribbon. He contrived to stam-
mer out:
Yes, I 'm Ranald Dalzell."
I thought you must be," said the self-possessed
damsel. I don't know why I thought so, either.
I 've waited for you this half-hour. Is this your
yacht? "


Yes."
And are we going to Daisydown in it ? "
"Yes."
All right, I 'll have my trunks brought down.
I breakfasted at that hotel yonder," with a nod
toward the Hemingway house on the landing,
" and I saw you when you came down to the
pier, but I was n't certain who you were. Wait
a minute, please."
She was hastening away up the pier, at a rapid
walk; and Ranald looked after her bewildered.
He had not fully recovered himself when a porter
wheeled down two big trunks and a queer large
canvas bag, absurdly angular in shape. Ranald
did n't really know how he finally stowed the
luggage away, but after it was accomplished, he
found Miss Molly seated calmly in the yacht, and
could n't for the life of him remember helping
her aboard.
He got up sail with expedition, conscious of
Miss Molly's scrutinizing eyes. He could n't think
of a thing to say to her.
Oh, did I tell you my name ?" remarked the
damsel, as the yacht filled away on her course.
"I suppose you know who I am, however."
Ranald looked around involuntarily; their eyes
met. "I suppose you are Miss Molly Arnold,"
said he, and they both burst out laughing. This
broke the ice a little.
"Yes; but really," said Miss Molly, "I ought to
have introduced myself at first. But I forgot;
Mamma says I always do forget. But I was so glad
to find it was really you, and to get out of that
poky old hotel, that I did n't stop for anything."
This reminded him of the lunch basket.
"Did you say you had breakfasted? said he.
"Yes, thank you," she answered. "But I be-
lieve I always am hungry. Mamma says it's very
vulgar, but I can't help it."
I can," said Ranald, and began to lash the
tiller, that he might go forward after the lunch-
basket; but Miss Molly jumped up.
Let me hold it," said she; I do so want to
learn to steer."
Ranald complied, but kept one eye on the tiller
while diving into the cuddy.
Behold now Miss Molly, with foot braced man-
fully against the opposite seat, and both hands,
slightly reddened, grasping the smooth handle.
There is a brisk breeze now; the yacht, under all
sail, heels" (or leans) at an alarming rate, and
Miss Molly, with ribbons flying and fluffy blonde
hair blowing over her face, has her hands full.
The "Nocturne" flies like a bird, and the sea is a
mass of dark, ruffled blue. Ranald sets the lunch-
basket incautiously down beside the center-board,
and forgets all about it.






THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


Let me take the tiller again,-it's too hard
work for you," he ventures to say at length, seeing
Miss Molly's flushed face.
Keep your head up, there!" pants Miss Molly,
in reply, addressing the yacht, however, and not
Ranald; and with a valiant tug and strain the
yacht's bows point once more straight ahead, and
her shaking sails fill again as flat as a board.
You '11 weary yourself completely, and blister
your hands besides," remonstrates Ranald at
length.
But Miss Molly sticks to it with steady persist-
ence for three-quarters of an hour, occasionally
conquered by the helm, but never failing to con-


his eyes when he sees Miriconnet Head looming on
the port bow. Peter is waiting with the dory; the
" Nocturne," with lowered sails, glides easily by
the stake, and Molly fishes up the moorings with a
boat-hook. Ranald acknowledges to himself that
he has had a very good time.

PART II.

"WHAT is she like?" asked Houghton.
"Like other girls, I believe," answered his
cousin.
"Rigged to death, for I saw the red ribbons
flying," said Phil, determined not to be pleased.


MISS MOLLY TAKES CHARGE OF THE TILLER.


quer in her turn. Then, as the boom swings over
and the yacht heels on another tack,-for they are
beating home,- there is an ominous slide and
crash.
Gracious! says Ranald, with a spring, "I
forgot the basket."
Miss Molly gives him the helm, takes the bas-
ket, and sits down with aching arms, and three
separate blisters on each hand.
Anything broken ? inquires Ranald.
"Only this jelly tumbler, I believe. Here,-
I '11 save some of the jelly with this cup! And
I '11 toss the glass overboard."
The lunch is duly appreciated. Somehow, the
sail home is very short. Ranald can hardly believe


"I could n't describe her dress, to save me,"
replied Ranald, astonished at himself.
"I believe you like her, Ran cried Phil.
"May be I do, but I 'm not sure," answered
Ranald cautiously.
"What room is she to have ? asked Houghton.
I've no idea," Ranald answered shortly.
"Father said any one she liked," Houghton
went on; "and she '11 not choose any in the north
wing, for those rooms are unfurnished."
"Well, anyhow, what can we do? She can't
swim, or row, or ride, of course,-on horseback, I
mean; and she '11 scream at Houghton's bug-
collections, and she '11 tear her red ribbons to bits
on brambles if we take her down the glens, and I


[SEPTEMBER,






THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


don't see much pleasure ahead for vacation,- that's
all! Thus spoke Phil, gloomily.
He had an auditor. They stood in the ivy by
the tower room windows. The windows were
open; the long draperies within swept the floor.
Just inside them stood Miss Molly, now tearful-
eyed and reddened with anger. She had chosen
the tower room as hers, because of its queer,
winding stairs that led up, within a curtained
recess, and its quaint old furnishing.
The boys walked away, and Miss Molly sat
down to a good cry. Then she recovered herself
and began to consider.
She could n't go home; her father was in the
Adirondacks, her mother at Saratoga. Besides,
pride forbade her going away at all. She said:
I wont speak a single word to any of them,-
so now !"
Reflection convinced her that this also was folly.
Then Miss Molly's good sense and good temper
came to her aid. She took a new and commend-
able resolution.
"They wont like me ? she exclaimed. "Very
well, I '11 make them They shall see I 'm not a
baby, if I am a New Yorker."
Miss Molly's shrewd brain worked busily till
tea time. Then she walked out in a plain blue
muslin,- her simplest dress,-with all her lovely
blonde hair in a long, thick braid that reached
below her Waist. She was very quiet, but her
sharp eyes and keen brain took measure of
Houghton and Phil. Ranald she liked best of
all, despite the red hair.
The boys were very gentlemanly, however.
They invited her to play croquet on the lawn after
tea, and Ranald found Molly a strong ally against
Houghton and Phil, who, within a half-hour, were
ingloriously beaten.
"Was she pretty ?" say my girl readers.
No, I don't think she was -really. Yet her
expression of strong good sense,-a little brusk-
ness included,- her brisk little ways, and the
piquant upward curve of her inquisitive little
nose, made Miss Molly altogether rather refresh-
ing. Her hair was her chief beauty, and her
" style" was undeniable. So much for the new
arrival.
When Houghton went up over the balustrade to
the garret dormer-window in the gymnasium
early next morning as he must, perfor'e, since
he could no longer go through the tower room -
he was amazed to find Miss Molly in a pink flannel
gymnasium suit, descending from a lofty bar,
hand under hand, down a long rope. Plainly, she
was no stranger to gymnastic feats, and her agility
compelled his unwilling admiration. Yet Hough-
ton was the most obstinate of the three, and he


supplemented his account of it, later, to the others,
with the remark, "I hate a hoyden "
Phil said nothing, but Ranald seemed inclined
to take up the cudgel for Miss Molly.
"I don't know why we should hate Miss Molly
Arnold," he said; she's clear grit, or she never
would have held on to the Nocturne' as she did
yesterday. Her hands were blistered, but she never
said a word about them."
At dinner Mr. Tripton Dalzell, who unexpectedly
returned home, inquired where Houghton was.
"He has gone geologizing down the ledges,"
answered Ranald.
"And Phil?"
"He is fishing off the bar."
Mr. Tripton Dalzell's eyebrows contracted omi-
nously, but he said nothing aloud. He only mut-
tered to himself: "Ranald, then, is the only one
who stands at his post."
Why don't you take a ride this afternoon?"
Mr. Dalzell said to Molly, as they left the dining-
room.
"I could n't think of anything more enjoyable !"
answered the girl, with a flash of delight.
"Well," said Mr. Dalzell, kindly, you may
have the brown mare at any time. She is perfectly
safe and gentle. But how about a saddle ?"
Oh, I brought mine!" cried Molly, imme-
diately. She was off at once, and soon returned
dragging the big canvas bag.
"Whew! whistled Ranald, as soon as it was
opened. "How stylish we shall be! What a
handsome saddle!"
Of course it is,-and brand new," said Molly,
with pardonable pride.
"All aboard! exclaimed the lad. I '11 get
the horses at once, and we'll go up the headland
to see the afternoon boat come in. It's due in half
an hour."
And he ran down to the barn, lugging the saddle
and bridle, and dragging the bag behind him.
Molly flew to her room to put on her habit. Mr.
Tripton Dalzell, left alone, smiled an odd little
smile and took a cigar.
It was barely ten minutes before Ranald was
back again on his gray, leading the brown mare.
"Your 'noble steed' looks well in that rig,"
he said critically to Molly, noting the contrast
between the russet leather and blue velvet, and
the mare's dark glossy skin.
With a toss and spring from Mr. Dalzell's hand,
Molly settles herself in the saddle, the reins are
gathered up, and ho, now they are away with a
flourish and prance, down the avenue, through the
gate, and out upon the downs. The horses have
not been out to-day, and are full of life; they go
up the long turfy slope with a scurry of hoofs, Miss


833






THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


Molly's long braid and veil flying, and her eyes
growing brighter and brighter every moment.
Now the summit of the headland rounds before
them as they climb; it lowers gradually; they be-
gin to see the horizon line, the blue expanse below,
the smoke-trail of the coming "Orion," and sail-
boats flitting hither and thither across the sea, the
long sands and the big pier down below them.
Not so near cries Ranald suddenly to Molly;
"it caves down sometimes!"
Molly draws back the brown mare, which has
dashed very near the verge. Ah-h-h, there A
shiver and crack in the turf widens under the
beating, restless hoofs; the brown mare feels the
ground give way, sees the horrid depth, and
scrambles for dear life. There is a dull rumble,
a great cloud of dust,-and then the mare, all
a-tremble, recovers herself on the solid ground
fifteen feet away, and Molly, very white, but
quite cool, faces Ranald. She has not uttered a
sound.
Oh gracious! cries Ranald, looking from
the freshly caved declivity to Molly's face. He does
not know what else to say;
"That was terribly close he exclaims, after a
long pause. He looks at the verge again. Down
below, people from the tug are going up the pier;
he hears the murmur of voices, the sharp stroke
of the bell, the beat of waves on the sand. Ranald
is not more serious than most boys of his age, but
the solemn verse from the burial service forces
itself into his thoughts: In the midst of life, we
are in death."
However, Miss Molly is safe and sound on her
horse, instead of being, dashed to pieces down
Miriconnet Head, and the color is coming back
into her cheeks again. And now on they go down
the turfy slope to the elm-shaded road below, and
around by many a curve and willowy nook into
Daisydown.
After that, Ranald was Molly's stanch ally. And
it was not long before Master Phil himself went in-
gloriously over to the enemy.
It came about strangely. First, the absence of
the garnet ribbons from the blue boating suit im-
pressed him favorably ; Molly with stern resolution
having put away every one on the night of her
arrival. Next, it happened on a warm June day,
when Phil, in his red bathing suit, went diving off
the pier, that he perceived at a distance Molly's
long light braid floating on the waves, and caught
a glimpse of her face upturned to the sky. He
felt worried, and started seaward with alacrity.
"I hope she's not drowning. Howdid sheever
get out there ? I don't believe she can swim. Oh,
there 's a piece of drift-wood! Perhaps she floated
out on that. Just like a girl to be so careless "


All this was thought out by Phil while he was
swimming for dear life.
"If she is drowning, I 'm afraid she 's gone
down the third time. She's been up twice- I 'm
-sure thought the lad, as his vigorous strokes
brought him near; there, as he feared, rose Molly's
face and floating braid on the crest of a long wave.
He seized the blonde hair, and at the same time
shouted wildly for Houghton, whom he saw at the
moment strolling down the Dalzells' pier.
Molly's face flashed into sudden energy; with a
swift, graceful motion she turned and grasped Phil
by the collar of his bathing suit.
"Sze 's drowning/ )
"He 's drowning Grand duet !
"No, I 'm not drowning," said Phil, panting
and provoked; "I thought yoz were!"
I'd have you know I 'm not, any more than
you," answered Molly, brightly. I was just float-
ing to rest myself, and thinking I was comfortable
enough to go to sleep "
They stared at each other a moment, and then
Molly began to shout with laughter, in which
Phil was fain to join her.
Well, I 've had my swim all for nothing, then,"
said Phil presently.
I 'm sure I'm very much obliged to you," said
Molly, "and I '11 race you back to the pier. Want
to try ?"
"Yes," returned Phil stoutly, confident in his
powers. But Master Phil had caught a Tartar
that time; Molly was no mean adversary, and he
was somewhat blown.
Houghton, who had paused to discover whether
his' assistance would be required, concluded that
matters were all right, as the brown head and the
blonde drew nearer on the long waves. Still he
waited with some curiosity to see the end of the
race.
Nearer-nearer,-Molly's head just a foot in
the rear; and Phil's knee grazed against a hidden
rock he had forgotten in his excitement. There,
Molly was even with him; and both threw them-
selves on the sand, breathless from exertion.
Houghton laughed and walked away up the
pier. Phil was won over; he felt a respect for
the girl who was not a hoyden, but who could
ride and swim, and was not fashionable nor a
"muff."
"Do you ever fish?" he said, when he re-
covered his breath.
"Yes, when I can. I don't have very good luck,
though," was Molly's reply.
I 'm going out on the bar this afternoon in the
dory. Want to go? I '11 show you how to fish."
I 'd be delighted, if I sha'n't be in your way,"
answered Molly soberly, but with sparkling eyes.


[SEPTEMBER,







THE DALZELLS OF DAISYDOWN.


Of course you wont," said Phil, with a great
show of gruffness, but much internal satisfaction.
"We '11 go after two and 'say nothing to nobody.'"
Accordingly, at half-past two, Ranald and
Houghton were electrified at beholding Phil's dory,
with sail set and Molly at the tiller, skimming
away below Bear Island.
But Houghton was harder to be won. He with-
drew himself a great deal from the others' society;
for Ranald and Phil now included Molly in
every scheme of pleasure. Not that Houghton
was ever rude; but Molly felt that her coming
had made a difference among them, and the poor
child shed many a tear in secret over Houghton's
fancied dislike.
He did not really dislike her. But an under-
current of stubbornness in his disposition made
him hold out when often he would gladly have
joined them.
Two weeks-three weeks passed. Then Molly's
teacher from the Conservatory came out to Daisy-
down for a day or two to rest and look after his
most promising pupil.
Molly's voice was, as her friends declared,
"something wonderful for a young girl"; a
pure, mellow contralto that bade fair to win its
possessor fame in days to come.
The boys had never heard her sing, however,
for Molly had carefully timed her practicing to
hours when they were out of the house.
But to-day Houghton, oppressed by headache,
occupied a sofa behind a screen in a darkened
corner of the big, north parlor; the archway cur-
tains were partly drawn because of the sunlight
that flooded the long bay window in the other
room. Molly supposed him off on some excur-


sion, and chatted frankly with the queer, long,
lean, white-haired professor. Houghton turned
uneasily and tried to stop his ears. He had
too much honor to be a willing listener, but it
seemed awkward to get up now and bolt out upon
them.
He listened, however, when the Professor struck
a soft chord or two, and Molly began to sing.
How the fresh young voice thrilled the willful
lad through and through! Could any lark sing
clearer?" asked Houghton of himself. He was in
real wonder now; he sat up behind the screen.
The song ceased; there was a grumbling com-
ment of fault-finding from the exacting teacher, and
a turning of music leaves. "Try this," said the
professor, "it is simple and old, but it carries the
expression you want."
Old, indeed; it was a lullaby that famous lips
have sung; but to Houghton it only brought
the memory of his mother's voice singing by his
bedside the self-same melody for the last time.
The hot tears gushed from his eyes, big boy as he
was; and the last remnant of his wearisome pride
faded out of his heart. An hour later, when
Molly sat alone by the piano, Houghton came to
her with his hands full of music.
"It was my mother's," he said simply; "she
died when I was ten years old. Will you sing
some of these?"
The hazel eyes looked for a moment into the
black ones with the earnestness of real sympathy,
and then without a word she complied.
When Ranald and Phil came back from Daisy-
down, the contralto and a clear boyish tenor were
blending beautifully from the parlor. Houghton's
better self had come back.


(To be concluded.)


835


r884.]







836 AN OCEAN NOTION. [SEPTEMBER,





AN OCEAN NOTION.

By JOEL STACY.

WERE I old Neptune's son, you 'd see
How soon the waves would bow to me;
And how the fish would gather 'round,
And wag their tails with joy profound.
I 'd bid the sea-gulls tidings bring
Of sunny lands where larks do sing;
I 'd roam the icebergs wild, and find
A summer suited to my mind;
Or in the gulf-stream warm I'd play
So long as winter chose to stay;
I 'd turn the billows inside out;
Play leap-frog with the water-spout;
Swing on the cable, out of sight,
Or leap with dolphins to the light.
All this I'd do, and more beside,
Were I old Neptune's joy and pride.
His wreathed horn I 'd lightly blow,
And swing his trident to and fro;
And when I tired of ocean's roar,
I 'd take a little turn on shore.
If Father feared to trust on land
His fine aquatic four-in-hand,-
Why, what of that? I'd laugh and go
Upon a charger sure and slow -
My turtle-steed so fine and grand
Ready for trip on sea or land.
Ah, but I'd have right lordly fun,
If I were only Neptune's son !







THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.




THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.


THERE was once a Queen who founded, in her
capital city, a grand museum. This institution
was the pride of her heart, and she devoted
nearly all her time to overseeing the collection
of objects for it, and their arrangement in the
spacious halls. This museum was intended to ele-
vate the intelligence of her people, but the result
was quite disappointing to the Queen. For some
reason, and what it was she could not imagine, the
people were not interested in her museum. She
considered it the most delightful place in the world,
andspent hours every day in examining and study-
ing the thousands of objects it contained; but al-
though here and there in the city there was a
person who cared to visit the collection, the great
body of the people found it impossible to feel
the slightest interest in it. At first this grieved
the Queen, and she tried to make her museum
better; but as this did no good, she became very
angry, and she issued a decree that all persons
of mature age who were not interested in her
museum should be sent to prison.
This decree produced a great sensation in the
city. The people crowded to the building, and did
their very best to be interested; but, in the majority
of cases, the attempt was an utter failure. They
could not feel any interest whatever. The con-
sequence was that hundreds and thousands of the
people .were sent to prison, and as there was not
room enough for them in the ordinary jails, large
temporary prisons were erected in various parts of
the city. Those who were actually needed for
work or service which no one else could do were
allowed to come out in the day-time on parole;
but at night they had to return to their prisons.
It was during this deplorable state of affairs that
a stranger entered the city one day. He was sur-
prised at seeing so many prisons, and approach-
ing the window in one of the prisons, behind the
bars of which he saw a very respectable-looking
citizen, he asked what all this meant. The citizen
informed him how matters stood, and then, with
tears mounting to his eyes, he added: /
"Oh, sir, I have tried my best to be interested
in that museum; but it is impossible; I can't get
up the slightest interest in it. And, what is more,
I know I never shall be able to do so; and I shall
languish here for the rest of my days."
Passing on, the stranger met a mother coming
out of her house. Her face was pale, and she was
weeping bitterly. Filled with pity, he stopped and


asked her what was the matter. "Oh, sir," she
said, for a week I have been trying, for the sake
of my dear children, to take an interest in that
museum. For a time I thought I might do it, but
the hopes proved false. It is impossible. I must
leave my little ones, and go to prison."
The stranger was deeply affected by these cases
and many others of a similar character, which he
soon met with. "It is too bad! too bad!" he
said to himself. I never saw a city in so much
trouble. There is scarcely a family, I am told, in
which there is not some uninterested person- I
must see the Queen and talk to her about it," and
with this he wended his way to the palace.
He met the Queen just starting out on her
morning visit to the museum. When he made it
known that he was a stranger, and desired a short
audience, she stopped and spoke to him.
Have you visited my museum yet? she said.
" There is nothing in the city so well worth your
attention as that. Ybu should go there before
seeing anything else. You have a high forehead,
and an intelligent expression, and I have no doubt
that it will interest you greatly. I am going there
myself, and I shall be glad to see what effect that
fine collection has upon a stranger."
This did not suit the stranger at all. From what
he had heard he felt quite sure that if he went to
the museum, he would soon be in jail; and so he
hurried to propose a plan which had occurred to
him while on his way to the palace.
"I came to see your Majesty on the subject
of the museum," he said, "and to crave permission
to contribute to the collection some objects which
shall be interesting to every one. I understand
that it is highly desirable that every one should
be interested."
Of course it is," said the Queen," and although
I think that there is not the slightest reason why
every one should not feel the keenest interest in
what the museum already contains, I am willing to
add to it whatever may make it of greater value."
In that case," said the stranger, "no time
should be lost in securing what I wish to present."
Go at once," said the Queen. But how soon
can you return ? "
It will take some days, at least," said the
stranger.
Give me your parole to return in a week," said
the Queen, and start immediately."
The stranger gave his parole and left the palace.


837






THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.


Having filled a leather bag with provisions from
a cook's shop, he went out of the city gates. As he
walked into the open country, he said to himself:
I have certainly undertaken a very difficult en-
terprise. Where I am to find anything that will


all of which would be tenanted if people only knew
how improving and interesting it is to live apart
from their fellow-men. But, so far as it can be
done, I will help you in your quest, which I think
is a worthy one. I can do nothing for you myself,


"THE PEOPLE WERE NOT INTERESTED IN HER MUSEUM."


interest all the people in that city, I am sure I do
not know; but my heart is so filled with pity for
the great number of unfortunate persons who are
torn from their homes and shut up in prison,
that I am determined to do something for them, if
I possibly can. There must be some objects to
be found in this vast country that will interest
every one."
About noon he came to a great mountain-side
covered with a forest. Thinking that he was as
likely to find what he sought in one place as
another, and preferring the shade to the sun, he
entered the forest, and walked for some distance
along a path which gradually led up the mountain.
Having crossed a brook with its edges lined with
water-cresses, he soon perceived a large cave,
at the entrance of which sat an aged hermit.
" Ah," said the stranger to himself, this is indeed
fortunate! This good and venerable man, who
passes his life amid the secrets of nature, can
surely tell me what I wish to know." Saluting the
hermit he sat down and told the old man the object
of his quest.
I am afraid you are looking for what you will
not find," said the hermit. Most people are
too silly to be truly interested in anything. They
herd together like cattle, and do not know what is
good for them. There are now on this mountain-
side many commodious: and comfortable caves,


but I have a pupil who is very much given to
wandering about, and looking for curious things.
He may tell you where you will be able to find
something that will interest everybody, though I
doubt it. You may go and see him, if you like,
and I will excuse him from his studies for a time,
so 1ii it he may aid you in your search."
The hermit then wrote an excuse upon a piece
of parchment, and, giving it to the stranger, he
directed him to the cave of his pupil.
This was situated at some distance, and higher
up the mountain, and when the stranger reached
it, he found the pupil fast asleep upon the ground.
This individual was a long-legged youth, with long
arms, long hair, a long nose, and a long face.
When the stranger awakened him, told him why
he had come, and gave him the hermit's excuse,
the sleepy eyes of the pupil brightened, and his
face grew less long.
That's delightful he said, to be let off on
a Monday; for I generally have to be satisfied with
a half-holiday, Wednesdays and Saturdays."
"Is the hermit very strict with you? asked the
stranger.
"Yes," said the pupil, "I have to stick closely
to the cave; though I have been known to go
fishing on days when there was no holiday. I
have never seen the old man but once, and that
was when he first took me. You know it would n't


838


[SEPTEMBER,







1884.] THE QUEEN

do for us to be too sociable. That wouldn't be
hermit-like. He comes up here on the afternoons
I am out, and writes down what I am to do for the
next half-week."
And do you always do it ?" asked the stranger.
"Oh, I get some of it done, "said the pupil; "but
there have been times when I have wonderedwhether
it would n't have been better for me to have been
something else. But I have chosen my profession,
and I suppose I must be faithful to it. We will
start immediately on our search ; but first I must
put the cave in order, for the old man will be sure
to come up while I am gone."
So saying, the pupil opened an old parchment
book at a marked page, and laid it on a flat stone,
which served as a table.
The two now started off, the pupil first putting a
line and hook in his pocket, andpulling out a fish-
ing-rod from under some bushes.
"What do you want with that?" asked the
stranger, we are not going to fish "
"Why not?" said the pupil; "if we come to a
good place, we might catch something that would
be a real curiosity."
Before long they came to a mountain brook, and
here the pupil insisted on trying his luck. The
stranger was a little tired and hungry, and so was
quite willing to sit down for a time and eat some-


S MUSEUM. 839

" I have found something that is truly astonish-
ing! Come quickly!"
The stranger arose and hurried after the pupil,
whose long legs carried him rapidly over the mount-
ain-side. Reaching a large hole at the bottom of
a precipitous rock, the pupil stopped, and ex-
claiming:
Come in here and I will show you something
that will amaze you he immediately entered the
hole.
The stranger, who was very anxious to see
what curiosity he had found, followed him some
distance along a narrow and winding under-ground
passage. The two suddenly emerged into a high
and spacious cavern, which was lighted by openings
in the roof; on the floor, in various places, were
strongly fastened boxes, and packages of various
sorts, bales and bundles of silks and rich cloths,
with handsome caskets, and many other articles
of value.
"What kind of place is this ?" exclaimed the
stranger, in great surprise.
Don't you know?" cried the pupil, his eyes
fairly sparkling with delight. "Why, it 's a rob-
ber's den Is n't it a great thing to find a place
like this?"
"A robber's den exclaimed the stranger in
great alarm; "let us get out of it as quickly as we


..IL '- -C -- -





"THEY AROSE, LOOKING BLANKET AND MORE DISAPPOINTED THAN BEFORE." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
thing from his bag. The pupil ran off to find some can, or the robbers will return, and we shall be
bait, and he staid away so long that the stranger cut to pieces."
had quite finished his meal before he returned. "I don't believe they are coming back very
He came back at last, however, in a state of great soon," said the pupil, and-we ought to stop and
excitement, take a look at some of these things."
'I6Come with me come with me! he cried. Fly, you foolish youth cried the stranger;







THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.


"you do not know what danger you are in."
And, so saying, he turned to hasten away from
the place.
But he was too late. At that moment the robber
captain and his band entered the cave. When these
men perceived the stranger and the hermit's pupil,
they drew their swords and were about to rush upon
them, when the pupil sprang forward and, throw-
ing up his long arms, exclaimed:
Stop it is a mistake "
At these words, the robber captain lowered his
sword, and motioned to his men to halt. "A
mistake!" he said; what do you mean by
that? "
I mean," said the pupil, that I was out look-
ing for curiosities, and wandered into this place by
accident. We have n't taken a thing. You may
count your goods, and you will find nothing miss-
ing. We have not even opened a box, although I
very much wanted to see what was in some of
them."


rob the Queen's museum. It is the most impor-
tant business we have ever undertaken."
At these words the stranger stepped forward
and made a protest. I left the city yesterday,"
he said, "commissioned by the Queen to obtain
one or more objects of interest for her museum;
and to return now to rob an institution which I
have promised to enrich will be simply impos-
sible."
"You are right," said the captain, after a mo-
ment's reflection, such an action would be highly
dishonorable on your part. If you will give me
your word of honor that you will refnain by this
stone until our return, the expedition ill pir....:.:t
without you."
The stranger gave his word, and having been
left sitting upon the stone, soon dropped asleep,
and so remained until he was awakened by the re-
turn of the band, a little before daylight. They
came slowly toiling along, each man carrying an
enormous bundle upon his back. Near the end


Are his statements correct ? said the captain, of the line was the hermit's pupil, carrying a load
turning to the stranger, as heavy as any of the others. The stranger
Entirely so," was the answer. offered to relieve him for a time of his burden, but
You have truthful features, and an honest ex- the pupil would not allow it.
pression," said the captain, and I do not believe I don't wish these men to think I can't do as
you would be so dishonorable as to creep in here much as they can," he said. "You ought to have
during our absence and steal our possessions, been along. We had a fine time. We swept
Your lives shall be spared, but you will be obliged that museum clean, I tell you. We did n't leave
to remain with us; for we can not allow any one a thing on a shelf or in a case."
who knows our secret to leave us. You shall be What sort of things were they," asked the
treated well, and shall accompany us in our ex- stranger.
peditions; and if your conduct merits it, you shall I don't know," replied the pupil, we did n't
in time be made full members." have any light for fear people would see it, but
Bitterly the stranger now regretted his unfortu- the moon shone in bright enough for us to see all
nate position. He strode up and down one side of the shelves and the cases; and our orders were
the cave, vowing inwardly that never again would not to try and examine anything, but to take all
he allow himself to be led by a hermit's pupil. that was there. The cases had great cloth covers
That individual, however, was in a state of high on them, and we spread these on the floor and
delight. He ran about from box to bale, looking made bundles of the curiosities. We are going
at the rare treasures which some of the robbers to examine them carefully -as soon as we get to
showed him. the den."
The two captives were fed and lodged very well; It was broad daylight when the robbers reached
and the next day the captain called them and the their cave. The bundles were laid in a great
band together, and addressed them. circle on the floor, and, at a given signal, each
"We are now twenty-nine in number," he said; one of them was opened. For a moment each
"twenty-seven full members, and two on proba- robber gazed blankly at the contents of his bundle,
tion. To-night we are about to undertake a very and then they all began to fumble and search
important expedition, in which we shall all join. among the piles of articles upon the cloths; but
We shall fasten up the door of the cave, and at after a few minutes, they all arose, looking banker
the proper time I shall tell you to what place we and more disappointed than before.
are going." So far as I can see," said the captain, there
An hour or two before midnight the band set is nothing in the whole collection that I care
out, accompanied by the stranger and the hermit's for. I do not like a thing here !"
pupil; and when they had gone some miles the "Nor I !" ':Nor I!" "Nor I!" cried each one
captain halted them to inform them of the object of his band.
of the expedition. We are going," he said, "to "I suppose," said the captain, after musing for


840







THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.


-N


'a'


S^ o ," Io.. ~, *-


THE STRANGER WAS NOT USED TO CLIMBING, AN
TO BE ASSISTED OVER THE WALL. (SEE NEXT
VOL. XI.-54.


; a moment, "that as these things
are of no use to us, we are bound
in honor to take them back."
"Hold! said the stranger,
stepping forward; do not be in
too great a hurry to do that."
S HHe then told the captain of the
state of affairs in the city, and
explained in full the nature of the
expedition he had undertaken for the
Queen. "I think it would be better,"
he said, "if these things were not
taken back for the present. If you
have a safe place where you can put
r.t -i, i will in due time tell the Queen where
itr- .I e, and if she chooses she can send

S" .od said the captain, it is but right
It. i r !- should bear part of the labor of trans-
i '.ri..i..n. There is a disused cave, a mile
o.r i. .. vay, and we will tie up these bundles
.ri.l .-.'iry them there; and then we shall
I.... : !e matter to you. We take no further
ri..:r.-r in it. And if you have given your
i-''l':. to the Queen to return in a week,"
*The .l [.lain further continued, "of course you
'll I i to keep it. Did you give your parole
.;.. he asked, turning to the pupil.
"-h, no!" cried that youth; "therewas no
I~tnc r.-.ed for my return. And I am sure that
1 like a robber's life much better than that
of a hermit. There is ever so much more spice
and dash in it."
S. The stranger was then told that if he would
promise not to betray the robbers he might
depart. He gave the promise; but added
sadly that he had lost so much time that he was
afraid he would not now be able to attain the
object of his search and return within the week.
If that is the case," said the captain, "we
will gladly assist you. Comrades!" he cried, ad-
dressing his band, after stowing this useless
booty in the disused cave, and taking some
rest and refreshment, we will set out again,
and the object of our expedition shall be to obtain
something for the Queen's museum which will
interest every one."
Shortly after midnight the robbers set out, ac-
companied by the stranger and the pupil. When
they had walked about an hour, the captain, as
was his custom, brought them to a halt that he
might tell them where they were going. "I have
concluded," said he, "that no place is so likely to
contain what we are looking for as the castle of the
. great magician, Alfrarmedj. We will, therefore,
proceed thither, and sack the castle." .
D HE HAD Will there not be great danger in attacking
PAGE.)


841









842 THE QUEENS MUSEUM. [SEPTEMBER,


the castle of a magician ?" asked the stranger in
somewhat anxious tones of the captain.
Of course there will be," said the captain, "but
we are not such cowards as to hesitate on account
of danger. Forward, my men !" And on they all
marched.
When they reached the magician's castle, the
order was given to scale the outer walls. This the
robbers did with great agility, and the hermit's
pupil was among the first to surmount it. But
the stranger was not used to climbing, and he had
to be assisted over the wall. Inside the great
court-yard they perceived numbers of Intangibles
-strange shadowy creatures who gathered silently
around them; but not in the least appalled, the
robbers formed into a body, and marched into
the castle, the door of which stood open. They
now entered a great hall, having at one end a door-
way before which hung a curtain. Following
their captain, the robbers approached this curtain,
and pushing it aside, entered the room beyond.
There, behind a large table, sat the great magician,
Alfrarmedj, busy over his mystic studies, which he
generally pursued in the dead hours of the night.
Drawing their swords, the robbers rushed upon
him.
"Surrender! cried the captain, "and deliver
to us the treasures of your castle."
The old magician raised his head from his book,
and, pushing up his spectacles from his forehead,
looked at them mildly, and said i
"Freeze "
Instantly, they all froze as. hard as ice, each
man remaining in the position in which he was
when the magical word was uttered. With uplifted
swords and glaring eyes they stood, rigid and stiff,
before the magician. After calmly surveying the
group, the old man said:
I see among you one who has an intelligent
brow and truthful expression. His head may
thaw sufficiently for him to tell me what means
this untimely intrusion upon my studies."
The stranger now felt his head begin to thaw,
and in a few moments he was able to speak. He
then told the magician about the Queen's museum,
and how it had happened that he had come there
with the robbers.
"Your motive is a good one," said the magi-
cian, though your actions are somewhat erratic;
and I do not mind helping you to find what you
wish. In what class of objects do the people of the
city take the most interest?"
"Truly I do not know," said the stranger.
"This is indeed surprising!" exclaimed Alfrar-
medj. How can you expect to obtain that which
will interest every one, when you do not know
what it is that every one takes an interest in? Go,


find out this, and then return to me, and I will see
what can be done."
The magician then summoned his Intangibles
and ordered them to carry the frozen visitors out-
side the castle walls. Each one of the rigid figures
was then taken up by two Intangibles, who carried
him out and stood him up in the road outside the
castle. When all had been properly set up, with
the captain at their head, the gates were shut, and
the magician, still sitting at his table, uttered the
word, "Thaw! "
Instantly, the whole band thawed and marched
away. At day-break they halted, and considered
how they should find out what all the people in
the city took an interest in.
"One thing is certain," cried the hermit's pupil,
"whatever it is, it is n't the same thing."
"Your remark is not well put together," said
the stranger, "but I see the force of it. It is true
that different people like different things. But how
shall we find out what the different people like ?"
By asking them," said the pupil.
Good! cried the captain, who preferred action
to words. "This night we will ask them."
He then drew upon the sand a plan of the city,
- (with which he was quite familiar, having robbed
it carefully for many years,)-and divided it into
twenty-eight sections, each one of which was as-
signed to a man. I omit you," the captain said
to the stranger, "because I find that you are not
expert at climbing." He then announced that at
night the band would Visit the city, and that each
man should enter the houses in his district, and
ask the people what it was in which they took the
most interest.
They then proceeded to the cave for rest and
refreshment; and a little before midnight they
entered the city, and each member of the band, in-
cluding the hermit's pupil, proceeded to attend to
the business assigned to him. It was ordered that
no one should disturb the Queen, for they knew
that what she took most interest in was the museum.
During the night nearly every person in the town
was aroused by a black-bearded robber, who had
climbed into one of the windows of the house, and
who, instead of demanding money and jewels, sim-
ply asked what it was in which each took the great-
est interest. Upon receiving an answer, the robber
repeated it until he had learned it by heart, and
then went to the next house. As so many of the
citizens were confined in prisons, which the rob-
bers easily entered, they transacted the business in
much less time than they would otherwise have
required.
The hermit's pupil was very active, climbing into
and out of houses with great agility. He obtained
his answers quite as easily as others, but when-


842


[SEPTEMBER,


THE QUEEN-S MUSEUM.







THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM. 843


ever he left a house there was a shade of disap-
pointment upon his features. Among the last
places that he visited was a room in which two
boys were sleeping. He awoke them and asked
the usual question. While they were trembling
in their bed, not knowing what to answer, the
pupil drew his sword and exclaimed: "Come,
now, no prevarication; you know it's fishing-
tackle. Speak right out!" Each of the boys
promptly declared it was fishing-tackle, and the
pupil left, greatly gratified. I was very much






'/ ,' ,





i,











"THE OLD MAGICIAN LOOKED AT T]
afraid," he said to himself, that not a person in
my district would say fishing-tackle; and I am
very glad to think that there were two boys who
had sense enough to like something that is really
interesting."
It was nearly daylight when the work was
finished; and then the band gathered together in
ar appointed place on the outside of the city, where
the stranger awaited them. Each of the men had
an excellent memory, which was necessary in their
profession, and they repeated to the stranger all
the objects and subjects that had been mentioned
to them, and he wrote them down upon tablets.
The next night, accompanied by the band,
he proceeded to the castle of the magician, the
great gate of which was silently opened for them
by the Intangibles. When they were ushered into
the magician's room, Alfrarmedj took the tablets
from the stranger and examined them carefully.
"All these things should, make a very complete
collection," he said, "and I think I have speci-
to hem ad h wrtethe dwn pont.tblts


mens of the various objects in my interminable
vaults." He then called his Intangibles, and, giv-
ing one of them the tablets, told him to go with
his companions into the vaults and gather enough
of the things therein mentioned to fill a large mu-
seum. In half an hour the Intangibles returned
and announced that the articles were ready in the
great court-yard.
"Go, then," said the magician, and assist
these men to carry them to the Queen's museum."
The stranger then heartily thanked Alfrarmedj


HEM MILDLY, AND SAID: 'FREEZE!'"
for the assistance he had given; and the band,
accompanied by a number of Intangibles, pro-
ceeded to carry the objects of interest to the
Queen's museum. It was a strange procession.
Half a dozen Intangibles carried a stuffed mam-
moth, followed by others bearing the skeleton of a
whale, while the robbers and the rest of their queer
helpers were loaded with everything relating to
history, science, and art which ought to be in a
really good museum. When the whole collection
had been put in place upon the floors, the shelves,
and in the cases, it was nearly morning. The rob-
bers, with the hermit's pupil, retired to the cave;
the Intangibles disappeared; while the stranger
betook himself to the Queen's palace, where, as
soon as the proper hour arrived, he requested an
audience.
When he saw the Queen, he perceived that she
was very pale and that her cheeks bore traces of re-
cent tears. You are back in good time," she said
to him, "but it makes very little difference whether






THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM.


you have succeeded in your mission or not. There
is no longer any museum. There has been a great
robbery, and the thieves have carried off the whole
of the vast and valuable collection, which I have
been so long in making."
I know of that affair," said the stranger,." and
I have already placed in your museum-building
the collection which I have obtained. If your
Majesty pleases, I shall be glad to have you look
at it. It may, in some degree, compensate for that
which has been stolen."
Compensate cried the Queen. "Nothing
can compensate for it; I do not even wish to see
what you have brought."
"Be that as your Majesty pleases," said the
stranger; "but I will be so bold as to say that I
have great hopes that the collection which I have
obtained will interest the people. Will your
Majesty graciously allow them to see it?"
I have no objection to that," said the Queen;
"and indeed I shall be very glad if they can be made
to be interested in the museum. I will give orders
that the prisons be opened, so that everybody can
Sgo to see what you have brought; and those who
shall be interested in it may return to their homes.
I did not release my obstinate subjects when the
museum was robbed, because their fault then was
just as great as it was before; and it would not be
right that they should profit by my loss."
The Queen's proclamation was made, and for
several days the museum was crowded with people
moving from morning till night through the vast col-
lection of stuffed animals, birds, and fishes; rare and
brilliant insects; mineral and vegetable curiosities;
beautiful works of art; and all the strange, valu-
able, and instructive objects which had been
brought from the interminable vaults of the magi-
cian Alfrarmedj. The Queen's officers, who had
been sent to observe whether or not the people
were interested, were in no doubt upon this point.
Every eye sparkled with delight, for every one
found something which was the very thing he
wished to see; and in the throng was the hermit's
pupil, standing in wrapt ecstasy before a large
case containing all sorts of fishing-tackle, from
the smallest hooks for little minnows to the great
irons and .spears used in capturing whales.
No one went back to prison, and the city was
full of reunited households and happy homes. On
the morning of the fourth day, a grand procession
.of citizens came to the palace to express to the
Queen their delight and appreciation of her mu-
seum. The great happiness of her subjects could
not but please the Queen. She called the stranger
to her, and said to him:
"Tell me how you came to know what it was
that would interest my people."


I asked them," said the stranger. That is
to say, I arranged that they should be asked."
"That was well done," said the Queen; "but
it is a great pity that my long labors in their behalf
should have been lost. For many years I have
been a collector of buttons and button-holes; and
there was nothing valuable or rare in the line of
my studies of which I had not an original specimen
or a fac-simile. My agents brought me from foreign
lands, even from the most distant islands of the sea,
buttons and button-holes of every kind; those of
precious metals and rare gems, which could not be
obtained, were copied in gilt and glass. There was
not a duplicate specimen in the whole collection;
only one of each kind; nothing repeated. Never
before was there such a museum. With all my
power I strove to educate my people up to a
love of buttons and button-holes; but, with the ex-
ception of a few tailors and seamstresses, nobody
took the slightest interest in what I had provided
for their benefit. I am glad that my people are
happy, but I can not restrain a sigh for the failure
of my efforts."
"The longer your Majesty lives," said the
stranger, the better will you understand that we
can not make other people like a thing simply be-
cause we like it ourselves."
"Stranger," said the Queen, gazing upon him
with admiration, "are you a king in disguise ?"
I am," he replied.
I thought I perceived it," said the Queen,
and I wish to add that I believe you are far better
able to govern this kingdom than I am. If you
choose, I will resign it to you."
"Not so, your Majesty," said the other; "I
would not deprive your Majesty of your royal posi-
tion, but I would be happy to share it with you."
"That will answer very well," said the Queen.
And turning to an attendant, she gave orders that
preparations should be made for their marriage on
the following day.
After the royal wedding, which was celebrated
with great pomp and grandeur, the Queen paid a
visit to the museum, and, much to .her surprise,
was greatly delighted and interested. The King
then informed her that he happened to know where
the robbers had stored her collection, which they
could not sell or make use of, as there were no two
buttons alike, and none of them of valuable ma-
terial; and if she wished, he would regain the col-
lection and put up a building for its reception.
"We will not do that at present," said the
Queen. "When I shall have thoroughly ex-
amined and studied all these objects, most of
which are entirely new to me, we will see about
the buttons and the button-holes."
The hermit's pupil did not return to his cave.


[SEPTEMBER,







THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM


He was greatly delighted with the spice and dash
of a robber's life, so different from that of a hermit;
and he determined, if possible, to change his busi-
ness and enter the band. He had a conversation
with the captain on the subject, and that individual
encouraged him in his purpose.
I am tired," the captain said, of a robber's
life. I have stolen so much, that I can not use what
I have. I take no further interest in accumulating
spoils. The quiet of a hermit's life attracts me;
and, if you like, we will change places. I will be-
come the pupil of your old master, and you shall
be the captain of my band."
The change was made. The captain retired to
the cave of the hermit's pupil, while the latter,
with the hearty consent of all the men, took-com-
mand of the band of robbers.
When the King heard of this change, he was not
at all pleased, and he sent for the ex-pupil.
I am willing to reward you," he said, "for assist-
ing me in my recent undertaking; but I can not allow
you to lead a band of robbers in my dominions."
A dark shade of disappointment passed over the
ex-pupil's features, and his face lengthened visibly.
It is too bad," he said, "to be thus cut short
at the very outset of a brilliant career. I '11 tell
you what I '11 do," he added suddenly, his face
brightening, "if you '11 let me keep on in my new


profession, I '11 promise to do nothing but rob
robbers."
"Very well," said the King, "if you will confine
yourself to that, you may retain your position."
The members of the band were perfectly willing
to rob in the new way, for it seemed quite novel
and exciting to them. The first place they robbed
was their own cave, and as they all had excellent
memories, they knew from whom the various goods
had been stolen, and everything was returned to
its proper owner.. The ex-pupil then led his band
against the other dens of robbers in the kingdom,
and his movements were conducted with such dash
and vigor that the various hordes scattered in every
direction, while the treasures in their dens were re-
turned to the owners, or, if these could not be found,
were given to the poor. In a short time every rob-
ber, except those led by the ex-pupil, had gone
into some other business ; and the victorious youth
led his band into other kingdoms to continue the
great work of robbing robbers.
The Queen never sent for the collection of curi-
osities which the robbers had stolen from her. She
was so much interested in the new museum that
she continually postponed the reestablishment of
her old one; and, so far as can be known, the
buttons and the button-holes are still in the cave
where the robbers shut them up.


A SMART BOY.


'M glad I have a good-sized slate,
With lots of room to calculate.
, Bring on your sums! I 'm ready now;
My slate is clean; and I know how.
But don't you ask me to subtract,
I like to have my slate well packed;
And only two long rows, you know,
-' Make such a miserable show;
S And, please, don't bring me sums to add;
Well, multiplying 's just as bad;
And, say I 'd rather not divide-
Bring me something I have n't tried !


x884.1






THE BIRD MATINEE.


THE BIRD MATINEE.

BY W. C. E.


LET me tell you of a series of matinees I attended
this summer, which were given at three o'clock in
the morning.
The windows of my bedroom opened toward the
south on a beautiful lawn, bordered with elms.
Year after year comes the golden, or Baltimore,
oriole,--most delightful of singers. He loves best
the swaying branches of the loftiest elm for his
home, that old Dame Nature may rock the little
ones to sleep with every breeze. Robin-Redbreast
and Jenny Wren build lowlier homes in more
accessible places. Then there is the linnet, who
years ago forsook us for a southern clime, but,
perhaps alarmed by the noise of war, returned to
her northern home. These were some of the
singers who gave the three o'clock matinees. They
continued for two or three months, from May
nearly through July, and the programme each day,
for the first month, seemed precisely the same.
First came a loud, shrill, prolonged call, always
repeated three times, which reminded me of a gong
at'a hotel. It was e.;der, n,. intended for the
rising-bell and for a call to order. After the last
call came a feeble peep, as if one little fellow had
managed to arouse himself just enough to answer.
Then another replied a little louder, and another,
until, in rapid succession, all the dwellers in the
grove announced their presence, and answered to
their names. Then followed a minute or two of
entire silence; after which the prima donna, as it
seemed to me, opened the concert. It was a loud,


clear, sweet strain, so unlike any heard in the day,
that I can not tell what bird it was; I think only
the oriole could pour forth that delightful music.
It sang alone in a clear, ecstatic strain. At a cer-
tain part of the solo two other voices broke in as a
trio, and at the end of the stanza all the voices
joined in full jubilee chorus. This was repeated
six times, so that I came to call it their hymn of
praise in six stanzas. It was rendered every morn-
ing in exactly the same'way. After it there was
singing by the full choir, and it grew louder and
more impassioned, as if each minstrel was inspired
by the rest, like the singing of a vast concourse
of people.
After this grand climax, the voices would die
away, one after the other, and the principal concert
was over. The parent birds went on their morn-
ing flight, and their birdies swung in their wind-
rocked hammocks for another half-hour. At the
expiration of this time came a call similar to the
first, although by a different bird,- often a whip-
poorwill. The summons was repeated thrice, then
came a feeble little "peep, peep, twitter, twitter,''
and the juveniles joined to the best of their ability.
This concert was much shorter than that of their
parents, as befitted their tender age, and their
hunger on first awaking. But it was never omitted
in rain or sunshine until the fierce midsummer
heats, parental cares, or the absence of the prin-
cipal singers, caused -them to be given up for the
rest of the season.


846


[SEPTEMBER,






SWORDSMEN OF THE DEEP. 847










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SWORDSMEN OF THE DEEP.

By JOHN R. CORYELL.


IMAGINE whales fencing with one another for
amusement!
It seems as if such a thing could not be; and yet
there are whales of a certain species which not only
fence with one another, but use their teeth for
swords.
There are some whales that have no teeth at
all, but in place of teeth have great sheets of whale-
bone hanging down from the roof of the iouth on
each side of the tongue. ..Other whales have their


great jaws filled with sharp and terrible teeth; and
one kind, called the narwhal, has but two teeth.
It is the narwhal that fences. One of the teeth
of the male narwhal always grows through the
upper lip and stands out like a spear, straight in
front of the animal. Occasionally both teeth grow
out in this way, but that is a rather rare occurrence.
It seems as if all the material that should have
gone to fill the narwhal's mouth with teeth had
gone to the one tooth that grows out through the









lip; for sometimes this tooth is eight feet long. fine quality of oil, its flesh is used for food, and its
The animal itself, from head to tail, is seldom skin, made into a jelly, and called mattak, is con-


more than sixteen feet in li
tooth would be half as
long as the whole body.
Of what use such an
-enormous tooth is to the
narwhal no one knows.
Some persons say it is
used for spearing fish;
others, that its use is to
stir up the mud in the
bottom of the ocean in
order to scare out the fish
that may be hiding there;
and one man says the
tooth is.for the purpose
of breaking holes in the
ice in winter; for the nar-
whal, like all whales,.is
obliged to come to the
surface at intervals to
breathe.
Whatever the tooth is
intended to be used for,
it is certain that when the
narwhal wishes to play
it finds another nar-
whal of a like mind, and
away they charge at each
other till the long tooth-
swords clash together.
They are active as well
as frolicsome, and sail-
ors tell of seeing them
crossing swords in this
way, thrusting and parry-
ing, and rolling and dart-
ing about with marvelous
agility and grace, as if
combining sword-play
and acrobatics in the same
game.
There is somethingvery
soldier-like, too, in their
mode of traversing the
ocean. They form in
ranks, in good order; and
with similar undulations
of the body and sweeps
of the tail, they proceed
by the thousand together
to the part of the ocean
decided upon as a sojourn
The narwhal is light gra
with black spots. For a g
valued by-the Greenlander


length, so that such a


sidered a dainty too choice for ordinary occasions.


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world that has been
ing-place.
y in color, and covered
great many reasons it is
s. It furnishes a very


NARWHALS FENCING.

This "swordsman of the deep," as I have called
him, is a warm-blooded animal, and must not be
confounded with the saw-fish or the sword-fish,
both of which are entirely different in their species
and habits from the narwhal.


SWORCDSMEN OF TH-E DEEP.


848


[SEPTEMBER,






LIVING CAMEOS AND BAS-RELIEFS.


POOR ROBINSON CRUSOE.

BY M. ELLA PRESTON.

POOR Robinson Crusoe!
What made the poor man do so?
He was a robin's son, I know,
But that 's no reason he should crow.-
Pray, tell me why he crew so?





LIVING CAMEOS AND BAS-RELIEFS.

BY GEORGE B. BARTLETT.


THIS fascinating entertainment can be prepared
by children, at short notice, with very little trouble
or expense. The articles required are two sheets
of large card-board, two sheets of pink tissue-pa-
per, and two sheets of white cotton wadding, one
ball of white and one of pink velvet chalk, a lead-
pencil, a pair of scissors, six yards of black cam-
bric, a few tacks, and a little paste.
One sheet of card-board is fastened on the side wall
of a darkened room, so that the shadow of the face
of a person with large and regular features will fall
upon the center of it when a lighted candle is held
in front of the side of the face at a distance of three
feet. A cup should be placed between the face
and the card-board and kept in position by the pres-
sure of the head, in order, so far as possible, to
prevent any movement on the part of the sitter.
The candle must be so placed that the shadow of
profile is in the center of the card-board; the out-
lines are then to be traced with a pencil. The
card-board can then be taken down and the profile
carefully cut out; the back of the head usually
being enlarged, so that various methods of dressing
the hair may be permitted. This white card-board
will be ready for the bas-relief after the outer edge
has been cut into the form of a circle, and made
thicker by several rings of pasteboard of the same
diameter, but only three inches wide. When cam-
eos are to be exhibited, the outer surface should be
covered with pink tissue-paper.
A curtain of cheap black cambric or any plain-
colored material, reaching from the ceiling to the
floor, is then hung at a distance of about two feet
from the back wall of the room where the exhibition
is to take place. The card-board is fastened into
a hole made in the curtain, .:. ii!i..o.i !,e .-n:r. r ..i' r,.
opeiaing is about six or seven feet from the floor,


and a chair or small table is placed close behind
this curtain and another small piece of black cloth
is tacked to the wall behind the opening.
The person whose face is to form the bas-relief
stands upon a chair or table so that the head fits
into the opening in the card-board, about one-half
of it projecting in front of the surface of the frame
thus formed. The side-face thus exposed is chalked
and the hair is covered with white wadding, which
conceals it, and also can be fastened in waves,
plaits, or classic knots; for cameos, pink chalk,
and tissue-paper take the place of the white. Very
pretty art studies can thus be made by inexperi-
enced persons.
When it is desired to show several of these art
studies consecutively, it will be well to have a pink
and a white frame placed side by side about one
foot apart, as then they may be shown together or
separately the one not in use being covered with
a little curtain of black cambric. Thus a pleasing
variety can be produced by showing either a cameo
or a bas-relief or both together. Faces of children
or of grown people can be used as desired, as it is
not absolutely necessary that the features should
exactly fill the cut profiles in the card-board. The
eyes are always closed, and a little chalk should
be rubbed on the. eyelids just before the face is
shown to the spectators.
The frames may be placed between thick window-
curtains draped above and below them; this will
save the trouble of a black curtain, as the perform-
ers can stand in the window behind the curtain.
The best manner of lighting them is from the top;
and when the room has no chandelier, a lamp can
be held at the left side as high as can be done con-
veniently by a person who stands upon a chair or
short step-ladder.


849






BENNY'S HORSE.


BENNY'S HORSE.

BY MARY CATHERINE LEE.


ONE day, when Benny was a very little boy, his
mother went on a shopping excursion to New
Haven, and left him in the rather slippery care
of Florilla, her "help." That day made a very mis-
cellaneous and highly-seasoned chapter in Benny's
history. It began with a fine little conflagration,
produced without much trouble by Benny himself,
who took a box of matches into the wood-shed,
while the worldly-minded Florilla had gone up-
stairs a minute to : do up" her hair and otherwise
re-arrange her toilet, with a view of presenting a
creditable appearance when 'Bijah should come in
with the milk and vegetables which he brought
over every day from Grandma Potter's farm.
Florilla, smelling smoke, rushed down the dark,
crooked back staircase, and fell into the kitchen
with a sprained wrist and a painfully bruised head.
'Bijah, happily arriving at that extreme moment,
hardly knew which to do first-spank Benny,
pick up Florilla, or put out the fire. He began
with the fire, however; and the Breese house
was saved,- excepting the wood-shed,-Florilla
was consoled, and Benny was put to bed, as. the
place most conducive to repentance, whence he
made Florilla's aching head ring again with his
roaring expostulations. It will hardly be believed
that one day could hold so many disasters; but it
is perfectly true that the same afternoon a furious
thunder-storm came up, during which Florilla and
Benny endured agonies of fear, the horse broke
through the barn floor, and Mrs. Breese came
home to find Florilla patiently and submissively
expecting the end of the world to happen next.
My land!" said Florilla, as she finished telling
the story of the day to Mrs. Breese, "there has n't
been such a time since the days of Pharo'. What-
ever could 'a' made it come all at once?"
"I guess," said Benny, "God's gone to the
city."
Mrs. Breese, with a mother's memory, laid up
this little saying of Benny's, and was reminded of
it at many a vexatious time as life went on.
One day, a year afterward, she felt especially in-
clined to think God must have gone to the city,
for everything had gone wrong since the dawn,
from her currant-jelly's determination not to "jell,"
and Florilla's having utterly demolished the alabas-
ter Temple of Fame which glorified the parlor cen-
ter-table, to Mr. Breese's coming home violently ill
with malarial intermittent fever. It was also an
hour past dinner-time and Benny had n't come.


"What could be the matter?" she wondered, as
she stepped out on the piazza for the twentieth
time, and gazed up the street in the hope of
seeing her boy bounding along home. What she
did really see was a boy shuffling and creeping
along, with his head down, leading an animal of the
horse species, whose head was still further down,
and who looked very much inclined to go down alto-
gether universally-" right in his tracks," as she
said to herself. As a prospective skeleton or a curi-
osity there was no fault to be found with him, but
as a horse he had the faults of being lame and lcar
to a painful degree-of appearing, in short, to be
entirely past his usefulness as a propelling power.
What he seemed to want was to borrow some of
that power, to get on with, and the boy who led him
lent him that very freely, if frequent twitches at the
halter were anything to the purpose.
"Hi! Git up! Come along there, you old
thing! shouted the boy, with plenty of twitches;
and Mrs. Breese thought there was something
familiar in those vociferous tones. Could it be her
boy ? Could it be- Yes, it was Benny Yet it
did n't look like that blessed, ever-beaming boy.
He had a singularly dubious and subdued expres-
sion; he manifested no delight whatever at the
sight of his own mother, but, leading his remnant
of a horse, he shtiffled along into the yard, mutely
protesting against association with the animal,
and looking as if somebody was to blame for
something.
Why, whose old horse is that, Benny? asked
Mrs. Breese, with wonder and a desire for knowl-
edge in every tone.
He's mine," said Benny, not at all boastfully.
Yours ?"
"Yes, 'm."
"What do you mean, Benny ? she half gasped.
"Where did you get him ?"
"I-I-bought him," said Benny, faintly, as if
confessing his sins.
'"Bought him repeated his mother.- What,
that old rackabones! Bought him with what ?"
The money I was a-saving to buy the shot-gun,"
groaned Benny, the big tears starting to his eyes.
Why, how much money did you have, pray ?"
Four dollars 'n' twenty-nine cents."
S" And you bought a horse for that ?"
Bought him for three 'n' a half."
But what did you want with such a poor, for-
lorn old thing, and what are you going to do with


850


[SEPTEMBER,


~







BENNY'S HORSE.


him now you 've got him ?" asked Mrs. Breese, in
a despairing tone.
I did n't want him, 'n' I declare I don't know
what to do with him," said Benny, weeping freely.
"Why, I don't understand you, Benny," said
Mrs. Breese, so amazed that she sat down on the
top step of the piazza, giving up the attempt to bear
her own weight and
I. =T the weight of this
I t... re


There is n't room in our little barn for your horse.
I should say, let him go and do'what he pleases
with himself,- only then he would suffer and be
abused, I suppose, and he looks as if he had had
enough of that, poor thing We must manage to
take care of him in some way until your father is
well. But where shall we put him?"
There's room enough in Grandma's barn, an'
'Bijah 'd take care of him for me." said Benny.
"Well, hitri- him t? the l- d chrr--tree, give
n I. 1' ":. :l .i r., [, ..-:,r ,,, ]',, ".. your ow n
,:li',t'.i. ii' d-c r ,,,: \V h- : .' :. -.,-,m e next?"


S. ,I -i








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t ., I .1 Ii
- -.i i" K






l;' a ,1


-a'--
-I'-- A


BENNY S HORSE.
time. "If you did n't want the creature, why did
you buy him? How did you buy him ?"
"I-I--I bid on him just for fun," said
Benny, reluctantly, "a-and-and the man -
said'he was mine."
"What man? Where is he?" inquired his
mother, apparently indulging a wild hope that it
might yet be possible to undo this fatal bargain.
"He was selling' horses on the green; this was
the last one he had. An' he's gone now-- I
-don't-know where."
"'Well, I 'm sure I don't know what is to be done
with the poor beast," said Mrs. Breese, with an
accumulative sigh Here's your father sick. I
can't say anything to him about it. He'd build a
new barn for him, I suppose; the more woe-begone
a creature is, the more worry he makes over it.


Benny hitched his property to an ancient cherry-
tree that was a good match for him, and gave him
some oats; and the way those oats were absorbed
-the way that horse and those oats merged and.
blended and melted into each other--the way the
horse went into the oats and the way the oats went
into the horse-made Benny stand astonished.
When he and his own dinner had been similarly
combined, Mrs. Breese said:
Now, Benny, if you can get this animal over


Iy :--, . : :,..






BENNY'S HORSE.


to Grandma's, I think you'd better take him there
and see if they 'll keep him for you awhile, until
Father's well and can dispose of him in some suit-
able way."
"Well," said Benny, "better put up plenty o'
bread and butter for me, 'cause it '11 be next week
before I get to Grandma's with him."
"There 's nothing else to be done," said his
mother; "and if you find it tedious, you'll be the
more likely to keep away from horse auctions."
But when Benny unhitchedhis nag and started off
with him, he found the oats had lent a small impetus,
and the bundle of bones hipperty-hopped along
about as fast as Benny wanted to walk, and they
reached Grandma's in about fifty minutes. A
mile in twenty-five minutes was a good record
for that kind of a horse.
He heard' a saw going "kzee-kzee-kzee-kzee-
qrrrrr, land..coneluded he.should find 'Bijah offici-
ating at the wood-pile, so he led his Rosinante
ar round the rc. and came upon 'Bijah like a solemn
.:ion. T'ili stopped his sawing with a jerk.
"Hullo !" said he; "whose racer hav' ye there,
Benny?"
"He's mine," said Benny. I bought him at
an auction."
He was n't going to let 'Bijah know how he had
been taken in. He would put a bold face upon it,
and let 'Bijah suppose that this particular horse
was the very-thing of all others in the world that
he wanted.
Sho! said 'Bijah, looking the horse over with
an eye partly shut, to get a very fine. focus, and
then looked Benny over with one of his noon-day
smiles. "Why, it's very clever in ye, Benny, to
stand there a-talkin' to me-you, the owner of a
hoss. Mebby you've got money to lend ?"
No," said Benny, I don't want to lend any
money, but I'11 lend you the horse."
"You don't say!" said 'Bijah, looking astounded
and incredulous. "Why, you're more 'n clever,
Benny!"
"Oh, I would n't lend him to every fellow, you
know," said Benny, with a knowing grin. "But
seeing' it's you, 'Bijah, I'll letyou have him for his
keeping. "
'Bijah sat down on the saw-horse and roared with
delight.
Oh, dear me You 're a sharp un, Benny,"
he gasped. "You '11 come out one o' those rail-
road chaps yet.. What 'd ye give for yer hoss?"
"I 'm not going to tell what I gave for him," said
Benny. "Where shall I put him, 'Bijah? Ido n't
know what to do with him, you see, an' I've got to
keep him here."
Oh, ho that's a hoss of another color. -Why,
we have n't any place good enough for him,"


said 'Bijah, stepping up to the animal and making
a critical examination of his "points "- (uncom-
monly sharp they were, and plenty of them). "He
aint such an old hoss as he looks," he continued,
examining his teeth. "Walk him round a little,
Benny."
'Bijah watched the creature as he limped along,
and then he lifted and examined one after another
of the horse's feet.
It's his off hind ankle," said he. "A sprain,
I guess, ah' he 's got the scratches some; but their 's
not so very much the matter with the beast, after
all. Who under the canopy could have abused a
hoss like that and let "him run down so ? Yes, I
guess I '11 take the loan of him, Benny, if your
Grandma's willing. "
This was only a question of form, for Benny
always did about as he pleased at Grandma's, and
he and 'Bijah both knew very.well that he could
keep a four-in-hand turnout there if he chose. As
a matter of course, therefore, Benny's horse was in-
stalled in the farm stable, and invited to a share of
-the oats and an interest in the pasture with the
other horses-an invitation to which he responded
with alacrity; and his interest in those things was
so deep and vital as to make it a matter of positive
indifference to him that those other horses laughed
their derisive horse-laughs at his gaunt ugliness
and ungainly gait. He sniffed a sniff of scorn with
all the breath he could spare, and cared not a flip
of his tail for social suffrage, but gave his whole
undivided soul to oats and the juicy dainties of the
pasture. 'Bijah, who, among other wonderful ac-
complishments, was a kind of horse-doctor, bathed
his feet with a solution of copperas to cure the
scratches, and bandaged his sprained ankle skill-
fully with wonderful liniment of his own manu-
facture, and the -poor old horse sometimes felt like
laughing himself; but he only smiled inwardly.
It could n't exactly be said that he laughed in his
sleeve, but he privately smiled at some things he
knew which those other horses did n't know.
Benny, meantime, neither thought nor cared
about the old nag. It was off his hands, and his
interest, just then, was with Cap'n Gills's sloop, on
which he was frequently invited to take a sail.
All his spare time, therefore, was given to naviga-
tion. Mrs. Breese's anxiety about Mr. Breese
made her also forget Benny's horse, but one morn-
ing she said:
"Your father's going to take a drive up to the
farm this morning, Benny; he does n't feel very
strong, and I guess you 'd better drive for him.
By the way, that old horse of yours is up there
still; you 'd better ask Father to look at him and
see what it is best to do with him. It is really an
imposition to have left him there all this while."


852


[SEPTEMBER,







BENNY'S HORSE.


Mr. Breese also declared, when he heard about the
horse, that his case must be attended to directly.
He and Benny drove into the barn when they
reached Grandma's, and Benny called with a loud
voice for 'Bijah; but no 'Bijah was to be found.
"The old horse's here somewhere, I s'pose,"
said Benny, peering into the stalls, one after an-
other. "No, he is n't, though. He 's out in the
pasture, I guess."
"There's an extra horse here, though," said
Mr. Breese. -"Here are Tom and Jim and Bill,
and there 's another one besides. Is this your
horse, Benny ?"
"No, sir," said Benny; "my horse looked like
that ladder there, stood up on pegs. This fellow's
a beauty-eh, Father? "
Yes, he is a fine creature. But Grandma would
scarcely buy a new horse, for she does n't need
one. I wonder what he 's doing here ?"
They found Grandma in her chintz-covered
rocking-chair, just where Benny had always found
her ever. since he could remember, and she looked
over the same silver-bowed spectacles, with the
same serene smile, at "that boy Benny," who was
never the same, but was bigger and louder and
more out of bounds every time she saw him.
I say, Grandma," began Benny, hardly wait-
ing for the good-mornings and Grandma's kiss,
"what horse is that out in the barn with your's ?"
Oh, it 's a horse we 're boarding for a friend
of mine," said Grandma.
What 's become of my old horse ?" asked
Benny, with a look of disgust; for, besides that
beast's personal unloveliness, the thought of him
always reminded Benny of the lost shot-gun.
"You 'll have to ask 'Bijah about him," said
Grandma. "Ring the bell, and he'll come."
Benny rang the bell with such vigor that 'Bijah
came in breathless haste.
Oh, it's that hoss, is it?" said he, when Benny
asked for his steed. I thought it was fire, or
tramps. Wall, Benny," he continued, with an
anxious face, I hope ye wont mourn much about
that old hoss; he was n't very good-lookin', ye
know, an' he was very lame."
"Oh, I don't care anything about him," said
Benny, .with a droll grimace, intended to express
his low opinion of the animal. "If he's dead, so
much the better. Father said he was afraid/he 'd
have to be shot."
"But seeing' that you want a hoss, Benny,".pur-
sued 'Bijah, "I 've got one that ye might like.
Want to look at him ? "
Why, yes, I guess so," said Benny.
"I '11 bring him round to the south door; you
wait there," said 'Bijah, taking Benny by the
shoulders and turning him back to the house.


'Bijah went down to the barn, and returned lead-
ing a glossy chestnut animal, slender and clean-
limbed, that carried his head complacently and
pricked the turf daintily as he advanced. He
looked like a lady's pet, and seemed as gentle as a
kitten. To crown all, he was saddled with a fine
new saddle. Benny's heart glowed with desire.
Want to try him? asked 'Bijah.
"Want to? Want to?" Benny's very soul
leaped as he sprang into the saddle and moved
off like a cavalier.
Mr. Breese came to the door and admired the
horse and his boy. It was a fine sight to see them
together. He felt that such a horse was made
for such a boy. 'Bijah sustained his impression
by saying:
"Jest the horse for Benny, eh ?"
"Yes," said Mr. Breese, with a little sigh; I
wish I could afford such a horse as that for my
boy."
Benny paused in his cantering and echoed the
wish.
"Wall," said 'Bijah, answering Mr. Breese, "I
reckon 't would n't be hard to buy him cheap. I
heard the gentleman he belongs to sayin' he did
n't care anything' about him."
"Whom does he belong to ? asked Mr. Breese.
"A young man of the name of Benny Breese."
"What, me?" shouted Benny, catching his
breath.
"How's that?" asked Mr. Breese, in blank
amazement.
"Why, you see," explained 'Bijah, "this Mr.
Benny Breese brought a miser'ble, starved-to-death
skeliton of a hoss here, so lame that every step
was a miracle, an' he said we might have him for
his keeping. "
"This is n't the horse?" exclaimed Mr. Breese,
in a tone of astonishment.
Wall, 't is an' 't is n't," said 'Bijah, with a dis-
criminating squint. "I took the skeliton for a frame
to start on, an' built up on it some, an' I think
it looks considerable like a hoss now; don't it ? "
I should think so said Mr. Breese. "But,
'Bijah, the horse is yours. You 've built him up
out of nothing."
Sho said 'Bijah, with a modest wag of his
head and a full blaze of smiling satisfaction on his
honest face. "If that's so, I '11 make a present
of him to Benny."
Benny came down to the ground in a twinkling.
"Oh, you dear old fellow, you! said he, hugging
'Bijah around the waist. "But where 'd the saddle
come from "
"Oh, I brought it home to try," said 'Bijah. "I
guess yer Pa 'n' yer Grandma '11 want you to hev
a saddle."


853


~






.BENNY'S HORSE.


Mr. Breese laughed, and said Benny must, of
course, have a saddle.
And the horse must have a name, I suppose,"
added he. "'Bijah, you ought to name your own
work of art."
"I had to call him something," said 'Bijah. "I
can't be a-talkin' to folks all the time and never
call'em by name, so I called him Gen'ral Putnam
- Gen'ral Israel Putnam."
And General Israel Putnam he was from that day,
and he and Benny Breese were the admired of all
admirers as they pranced up and down the streets
of Still Harbor. Every boy in town was devoured
with envy, and every girl, when she read about
"the princely youth" who, "just as the melan-
choly shades of eve were approaching," or "just
as the rosy fingers of the dawn were about to gild
the chambers of the east," was seen to "emerge
from the gates of the castle seated upon a richly
caparisoned palfrey," thought of Benny Breese.
When the morning of the Fourth of July arrived,
it was thought to be very appropriate that General
Israel Putnam should join in the celebration of the
day. There was to be a gorgeous procession in
the morning, a balloon ascension from the Green
in the afternoon, and fire-works in the evening.
The procession was decided to be the part of the
programme in which General Putnam would figure
best. Therefore, in due season, on the morning
of the glorious day, the General-his mane gar-
nished with red, white, and blue ribbons, with
bows of ribbons and knots and garlands of flowers
bedecking him generally and profusely, and Benny
Breese, in a brand-new jacket and trousers, with a
button-hole bouquet and white cotton gloves-
pranced down the street to the Green in a spirited
way which thrilled every beholder, and took his
place in the slowly forming procession as The
Spirit of 1876" (this was the centennial Fourth
of July). The balance and offset to Benny was
"The Spirit of 1776"-represented by a young
farmer's boy, in cocked hat and knee-breeches,
wearing the rusty sword with which one of his
ancestors had cut down a British soldier in the
Revolutionary battle of Still Harbor. These two
were to ride side by side in the very head and
front of the procession. An admiring crowd sur-
rounded them. While the marshals of the day
were getting into line the barouches.bearing the
dignitaries of the borough, and the chariots of
school children, Benny sat looking about in a dig-
nified way, accepting graciously the homage of all
beholders. He noticed that that boy who was
always getting above him in his class, who beat
him at ball, and owneda shot-gun, stood in the dust
at his feet. He observed that Miss Rose Roberts,
who had a way of making him feel very clumsy


and low-spirited, was looking on from the piazza of
her house, which stood on the Green. His father
and mother, and especially his sister Fanny, would
now see, he hoped, what a superior boy he was.
The files were formed, the marshals took their
places beside the ranks, and the band started up.
The band started up, did I say? General
Israel Putnam started up as well,- up, Mup, UP, on
his hind legs, and Benny Breese went down, down,
DOWN, and was soon keeping company in the dust
with the unworthy boy who owned the shot-gun.
A broad space soon cleared itself around General
Putnam, who, greatly to the dishonor.of his name,
moved out of the procession, still on his hind legs,
and began a regular motion, from side to side,
forward and back, all the while gracefully waving
his fore legs in the air, after the manner of the most
approved trained circus horses. Benny arose and
stood in the dust with the crowd.
Have you heard of the Spartan boy who, when
a coal of fire dropped into his sleeve, let it remain
there until it had burned a deep hole in his flesh,
and made no sign, moved not a muscle? That
boy had a rival in Benny as he stood and gazed on
the General. Blank wonder kept him rooted in
silence to the spot; but he was also a spunky boy,
and clung to his. dignity even when the owner of
the shot-gun shouted, The Down-spirit of '76 "
Down he was, and somewhat down-spirited, too,
but he held up his head and appeared to be the
most absorbed and interested of all the spectators.
Apparently, General Putnam meant never to
give up dancing until the band gave up playing.
On, still on, went the jig, to the rare delight of
every small boy and the amazement of their elders.
The procession moved on disregarded, but
everybody elbowed and tiptoed, craned his neck
or got up on a fence, to see the dancing horse.
Suddenly there was a misstep-an interference,
-a something wrong,-and poor General Putnam
reeled and came down with a gigantic flop upon
the ground.
Then ensued confusion, made up of renewed
efforts to see, shouts of derision, and exclamations
of pity. The crowd closed around the poor horse
until the sheriff made his appearance and drove it
back, to let the animal get up if he could. With
some help, he struggled to his feet, and stood there,
the very picture of baffled ambition, of disgraceful
failure-a meek and tousled-looking horse, at any
rate. His knots and garlands gay were torn and
awry. He was but the caricature of that noble
steed which came caracoling and curveting down
the street but an hour before.
Benny took him by his bridle, and led him
limping slowly away.
The mystery of his former neglected condition


854


[SEPTEMBER,








1884.] BENNY'S HORSE.


was explained. He had evidently been a part of
some show, and when, from some cause or other,
he had become unable to perform his feats without
stumbling and failure, he had lost his value as a
trained horse; his training made him unsafe for
ordinary purposes; he was too "light" for a work-
horse, and he had consequently been sold cheap to
one person, and another, and had been variously
neglected and abused, until he became the wreck
of a horse that Benny had bid on for fun."
Mrs. Breese declared that Benny should never
ride that horse again- there was no knowing what
the beast's immoral education would lead him to


do next. But Mr. Breese said, "Pshaw nonsense !
Benny must learn to stick to his horse, and keep
away from the Still Harbor Brass Band."
Benny did learn to stick to his horse. I have
seen him ride through the streets of Still Harbor
standing as straight as a ramrod on that horse's
back. It is generally believed that there is some
mysterious, not to say uncanny, understanding be-
tween the two. They perform most wonderful
maneuvers, but which really does the maneuvering
nobody can find out. But Benny's neck is still un-
broken, which is, and ever will be, the great Still
Harbor mystery.


THE- LITTLE BROTHER.---DRAWN BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE.


_ II I


BENNY S HORSE.


1884:]











"BOYS."

BY JOHN S. ADAMS.

STURDY little farmer boy, tell me how you know Nimble little sailor boy, tell me how you know
When 't is time to plow the fields, and to reap and How to navigate your ship when the tempests blow.
mow. Do you find it pretty hard
Do the hens with yellow legs" Clinging to the topsail yard?
Scold you when you hunt for eggs? Don't you fear some stormy day overboard you'll
Do you drive the ducks to drink, waddling in a row? go ?
Do the pigs in concert squeal Do they let you take a light
When you bring their evening meal? When you go aloft at night?
Tell me, little farmer boy, for I 'd like to know. Tell me, little sailor boy, for I 'd like to know.

Little boys of every kind, tell me how you know
That 't is time ere school begins rather ill to grow.
Does the pain increase so fast
That 't is terrible at last?
Don't you quickly convalesce when too late to go?
Do you think I am a dunce?
Was n't I a school-boy once?
Tell me, all you little boys, for I 'd like to know.





0 I


LITTLE GIRL WITH THE SHELL: "WHY, IT SOUNDS JUST LIKE THE ROAR OF THE OCEAN!"


[SEPTEMBER,


A SUMMER ECHO.






SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


EILLED *r11

^f *'- 'A. ~ "t <4*'-~
*^ *.^ ^ -.^ ../ "


NINTH SPINNING-WHEEL STORY.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


"THERE'S plenty of time for another. Let the
little folk go to bed, now that they 've had their
story, and then please bring out the next story,
Auntie," cried Min, when all had listened with more
interest than they would avow to the children's tale.
So the small people trotted off, much against
their will, and this most obliging of aunts drew
forth another manuscript, saying, as. she glanced
at several of her elder nieces, brave in the new
trinkets Santa Claus had sent them:
"This is a story with a moral to it which the
girls will understand; the boys can take naps while
I read, for it will not interest them."
"If it shows up the girls, we shall like it,"
answered Geoff, as he composed himself to hear
and enjoy the tale of
DAISY'S JEWEL-BOX, AND HOW SHE FILLED IT.
It would be perfectly delightful, and just what
I long for, but I don't see how I can go with
nothing fit to wear," said Daisy, looking up from
the letter in her hand, with a face full of girlish
eagerness and anxiety.
Mrs. Field set every fear at rest with a re-assur-
ing smile, as she quietly made one of the sacrifices
mothers think so small, when made for the dear
creatures for whom they live.
You shall go, dear; I have a little sum put by
for an emergency. Twenty-five dollars will/do a
great deal, when tastes are simple and we do our
own dress-making."
"But, Mother, that money was for your cloak.
You need it so much I, can't bear to have you give
it up," said sober little Jane, the home-girl, who
unlike her gay elder sister, never cared for visiting.
"Hush, dear; .I can do very well with a shawl
VOL. XI.-55.


over my old sack. Don't say a word to spoil
Daisy's pleasure. She needs a change after this
dull autumn, and she must be neat and nice."
Janey said no more, and fell to thinking what
she had to offer Daisy; for both took great pride
in the pretty girl, who was the queen among her
young friends.
Daisy heard, but was so busy re-reading the
letter that she took no notice then, though she
recalled the words later.
Come and pass the holidays with us. We all
wish to see you, and Laura begs you will not dis-
appoint her."
This was the invitation that came from Laura's
mother; for the two girls had struck up a great
friendship during the summer the city family
passed in the little country town where Daisy
lived. She had ardently hoped that Laura would
not forget the charming plan, and now the cordial
message came just when the season would be
gayest in town.
"I suppose I must have the everlasting white
muslin for a party dress, as that is the cheapest
thing a girl can wear. A nun's-veiling is what I
long for, but I'm afraid we can't afford it," she
said, with a sigh, coming back from visions of city
delights to the all-important question of dress.
"Yes, we can, and new ribbons, gloves, and
slippers as well. You are so small that it does n't
take much, and we can make it up ourselves. So
ruil and collect all your little finery, while I go and
do the shopping at once."
"You dearest of mothers! how you always
manage to give me what I want, and smooth all
my worries away. I'll be as good as gold, and
bring you the best present I can find."


1884.]


857


.. ----.i,
iilv"si"
-- --






SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


Daisy's grateful kiss warmed the dear woman's
heart, and made her forget how shabby the old
sack was, as she hastened away to spend the money
carefully hoarded for the much-needed cloak.
Needles and fingers flew, and two days before
Christmas, Daisy set out for the enchanted city,
feeling very rich with the pretty new dress in her
trunk and with five dollars for pocket money. It
seemed a large sum to the country girl, and she
planned to spend it all in gifts for mother and
Janey, whose tired faces rather haunted her after
she had caught the last glimpse of them.
Her reception was a warm one; for all the
Vaughns were interested in the blooming little
maiden they had found among the hills, and did
their best to make her visit a pleasant one. The
first day she was in a delightful sort of maze,-
things were so splendid, gay and new; the second,
she felt awkward and countrified, and wished she
had not come. A letter from her mother on
Christmas morning did her good, and gave her
courage to bear the little trials that afflicted her.
My clothes do look dowdy beside Laura's
elegant costumes, though they seemed very nice
at home; but my hair is n't red, and that's
a comfort," she said to herself, as she dressed for
the party that evening.
She could not help smiling at the bonny figure
she saw in the long mirror, and wishing Mother
and Janey could see the work of their hands in all
its glory; for the simple white dress was very
becoming, and her kind host had supplied her with
lovely flowers for belt and bouquet.
But the smile faded as she took up her one orna-
ment,-an antique necklace, given her by an old
aunt. At home it was considered a very rare and
beautiful thing, and Daisy had been rather proud
of her old-fashioned chain till she saw Laura's col-
lection of trinkets, the variety and brilliancy of
which dazzled her eyes, and woke a burning desire
in her to possess treasures of the same sort. It was
some consolation to find that the most striking were
not very expensive; and after poring over them with
deep interest, Daisy privately resolved to buy as
many as her five dollars would procure. These
new ornaments could be worn during her visit,
and serve as gifts when she went home; so the
extravagance would not be so great as it seemed.
This purpose comforted her, as she put on the
old necklace, which looked very dingy beside the
Rhine-stones that flashed, the silver bangles that
clashed, and the gilded butterflies, spiders, arrows,
flowers, and daggers that shone on the young girls
whom she met that evening. Their fine dresses
she could not hope to imitate, but a pin and a pair
of bracelets were possible, and she resolved to have
them, if she had to borrow money to get home.


Her head was quite turned by this desire for the
cheap trinkets which attract all feminine eyes now-
adays; and when, among the pretty things that
came to her from the Christmas-tree that night,
she received a blue plush jewel-box, she felt that
it was almost a duty to fill it a;:.soon as possible.
Is n't it a beauty? I never had one, and it is
just what I wanted said Daisy, delightedly lifting
the trayful of satin beds for pretty things, and
pulling out the little drawer underneath, where the
giver's card lay.
"I told papa-a work-box or a fan would be
better; but he liked this and he would buy it,"
explained Laura, who knew how useless it was to
her friend.
"It was very kind of him, and I prefer the
jewel-box to either of those. I 've nothing but my
old chain and a shabby little pin to put in it now,
but I'll fill it in time," answered Daisy, whose
eyes seemed to behold the unbought treasures
already reposing on the dainty cushion.
"Real jewels are the best, my dear, for their
worth and beauty are never lost. The tinsel that
girls wear now is poor stuff, and money is thrown
away in buying it," said Mrs. Vaughn, who over-
heard them and guessed the temptation which beset
the young country girl.
Daisy looked conscious, but answered with a
smile, and a hand on her necklace: "This old
thing would n't look well in my pretty box, so I '11
leave it empty till I can afford something better."
"But that antique chain is worth many mock
diamonds; for it is genuine, and its age adds to its
value. Lovers of such things would pay a good
price for that and keep it carefully. So don't be
ashamed of it, my dear,-though this pretty
throat needs no ornament," added Mrs. Vaughn,
hoping the girl would not forget the little lesson
she was trying to give her.
Daisy did not; but when she went to bed, she set
the jewel-box on the table where it would meet her
eyes on her awakening in the morning, and then
she fell asleep trying to decide that she would
buy no baubles, since there were better things
for which to spend her money
Nothing more was said; but as the two girls
went about the gay .streets on various pleasant
errands, Daisy never could pass the jewelers' win-
dows without stopping to yearn over the trays full
of enchanting ornaments. More than once, when
alone, she went in to inquire the prices of these
much-coveted trifles, and their cheapness made
the temptation harder to resist. Certain things
had a sort of fascination for her, and seemed
to haunt her in an uncanny way, giving her no
peace. A golden rose with a diamond drop of dew
on its leaves bloomed in her very dreams; an en-


858


[SEPTEMBER,






884.] SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


859


ameled butterfly flew before her as she walked,
and a pair of silver bangles rattled in her ears like
goblin castanets.
"I shall not be safe till I spend that money, so
I might as well decide on something and be at
peace," said poor Daisy, after some days of this
girlish struggle; "I need n't buy anything for
mother and Janey, for I can share my nice and
useful presents with them; but I should like to be
able to show the girls my lovely jewel-box with
something pretty in it,- and I will! Laura need n't
know anything about it, for I'm sure she'd think
it silly, and so would her mother. I '11 slip in now
and buy that rose; it's only three dollars, and the
other two will buy one porte-bonheur, or the dear
butterfly."
Making her way through the crowd that always
stood before the brilliant window, Daisy went in
and demanded the rose; then, somewhat frightened
by this reckless act, she paused, and decided to look
farther before buying anything else. With a
pleasant little flutter of the heart, as the pretty
trinket was done up, she put her hand into her
pocket to pay for it, and all the color died out
of her cheeks when she found no purse there.
In vain she pulled out handkerchief, keys, and
pin-cushion; no sign of money was found but a
ten-cent piece which had fallen out at some time.
She looked so pale and dismayed that the shopman
guessed her misfortune before she told it; but all
the comfort he offered was the useless information
that the crowded corner was a great place for
pickpockets.
There was nothing to be done but to return the
rose and go sadly home, feeling that fate was very
cruel to snatch away this long-coveted happiness
when so nearly won. Like the milk-maid who
upset her pail while planning which ribbons would
become her best, poor Daisy's dreams of splendor
came to a sudden end; for instead of a golden
rose, she was left with only ten cents, and not
even a purse to put it in.
She went home angry, disappointed, and
ashamed, but too proud to complain, though
not able to keep the loss to herself; for it was
a sad affair, and her face betrayed her in spite
of her efforts to be gay.
"I know you were staring at the French
diamonds in that corner store. I never can get
you by there without a regular tug," cried Laura,
when the tale was very briefly told.
"I can't help it; I'm perfectly fascinated by
those foolish things, and I know I should have
bought some; so it is as well that I lost my money,
perhaps," answered Daisy, looking so innocently
penitent and so frankly disappointed that Mr.
Vaughn said kindly:


So it is, for now I have a chance to complete
my Christmas present. I was not sure it would
suit, so I gave it empty. Please use this in buying
some of the 'fascinating things' you like so well."
A bright ten-dollar gold piece was slipped into
Daisy's hand, and she was obliged to keep it, in
spite of all her protestations that she could live
without trinkets, and did not need any money, as
her ticket home was already bought. Mrs. Vaughn
added a nice little purse, and Laura advised her to
keep the lone ten-cent piece for a good-luck penny.
"Now I can do it with a free mind, and fill my
box as Mr. Vaughn wishes me to. Wont it be
fun?" thought Daisy, as she skipped upstairs
after dinner, a load of care lifted from her spirits.
Laura was taking a music lesson, so her guest
went to the sewing-room to mend the facing of her
dress, which some one had stepped on while she
stood in that fatal crowd. A seamstress was there,
sewing as if for a wager, and while Daisy stitched
her braid, she wondered if there were any need of
such haste; for the young woman's fingers seemed
to fly, a feverish color was in her cheeks, and now
and then she sighed as if tired or worried.
"Let me help, if you are in a hurry, Miss
White. I can sew fast, and know something of
dress-making. Please let me. I 'd love to do any-
thing for Mrs. Vaughn, she is so kind to me," said
Daisy, when her small job was done, lingering to
make the offer, though an interesting book was
waiting in her room.
Thank you, I think I can get through by dark.
I do want to finish, for my Mother is sick, and
needs me as well as the money," answered the
needle-woman, pausing to give the girl a grateful
smile, then stitching away faster than ever.
"Then I must help. Give me that sleeve to
sew up, and do you rest a little. You look dread-
fully tired, and you 've been working all day,"
insisted Daisy.
That's very kind, and it would be a great help,
if you really like it," answered Miss White, with a
sigh of relief, as she handed over the sleeve, and
saw how heartily and helpfully Daisy fell to work.
Of course, they talked; for the friendly act opened
both hearts, and did both girls good. As the
younger listened to the little story of love and
labor, the gold burned in her pocket, and tinsel
trinkets looked very poor beside the sacrifices so
sweetly made by this good daughter for the feeble
mother whose comfort and support she was.
"Our landlord has raised the rent, but I can't
move now, for the cold and the worry would kill
Mother; so I'm tugging away to pay the extra
money, or he will turn us out, I 'm afraid."
Why don't you tell Mrs. Vaughn? She helps
every one, and loves to do it."






SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


So she does, bless her She has done a deal
for us, and that's why I can't ask for more. I
wont beg while I can work, but worry wears on
me, and if I break down, what will become of
Mother?"
Poor Mary shook the tears out of her eyes, for
daylight was going, and she had no time to cry;
but Daisy stopped to wonder how it would seem to
be in her place, tugging away" day after day to
keep a roof over mother. It made her heart ache
to think of it, and sent her hand to her pocket
with a joyful sense of power; for alms-giving was
a new pleasure, and Daisy felt very rich.
I've had a present to-day, and I'd love dearly
to share it with you, if you would n't mind. I shall
only waste it, so do let me send it to your mother
in any shape you like," she said, in a timid, but
very earnest way.
"0 Miss Field I couldn't do it! you are
too kind; I never thought of hinting "-began
Mary, quite overcome by this unexpected proposal.
Daisy settled the matter by running away to the
study, where Mr. Vaughn was napping, to ask him
if he would give her two fives for the gold piece.
"Ah the fascination is at work, I see; and we
can't wait till Monday to buy the pretty things.
Girls will be girls, and must sow their innocent
wild oats I suppose. Here, my dear; beware of
pickpockets, and good luck to the shopping," said
the. old gentlemen, as he put two crisp bills into
her hands, with a laugh.
"Pickpockets wont get this, and I know my
shopping will prosper now," answered Daisy, in
such a happy tone that-Mir. Vaughn wondered
what plan was in the girl's':ead to make her look
so sweet and glad.
She went slowly upstairs, looking at the two
bills, which did not seem half so precious as when
in the shape of gold.
"I wonder if it would be very extravagant to
give her all of it. I shall do some silly thing if
I keep it. Her boots were'very thin, and she
coughs, and if she is sick it will be dreadful. Sup-
pose I give her five for herself, and five for her
mother. I 'd love to feel rich and generous for
once in my life, and give real help."
The house was very still, and Daisy paused at
the head of the stairs to settle the point, little
dreaming that Mrs. Vaughn had heard the talk
in the sewing-room, and saw her as she stood
thoughtfully staring at the two bits of paper in
her hand.
"I should n't feel ashamed if Mrs. Vaughn
found me out in this, but I should never dare to
let her see my bangles and pins, if I should buy
them. I know she thinks them silly, especially so
for me. She said she hoped I'd set a good exam-


ple to Laura, in the way of simplicity and industry.
I liked that, and Mother '11 like it, too. But then,
my jewel-box! All empty, and such a pretty
thing.-Oh, dear, I wish I could be wise and silly
at the same time "
Daisy sighed, and took a few more steps, then
smiled, pulled out her purse, and taking the ten-
cent piece, tossed it up, saying, "Heads, Mary;
tails, myself."
Up flew the bright little coin, and down it came
with the goddess of liberty uppermost.
"That settles it; she shall have-the ten, and
I '11 be content with the old chain for all my
jewelry," said Daisy aloud; and looking much
relieved, she danced away, leaving the unsuspected
observer to smile at her girlish mode of deciding
the question, and to rejoice over the generous nat-
ure unspoiled as yet.
Mrs. Vaughn watched her young guest with new
interest during the next few days; for certain fine
plans were in her mind, and every-trifle helped the
decision for or against.
Mary White went smiling home that night to
rejoice with her feeble mother over the help that
came so opportunely and so kindly.
Daisy looked as if her shopping had prospered
wonderfully, though the old necklace was the only
ornament she wore; and those who saw her happy
face at the merry-making thought that she needed
no other. She danced as if her feet were as light
as her heart, and enjoyed that party more than
the first; for no envy spoiled her pleasure, and a
secret content brightened all the world to her.
But the next day she discovered that temptation
still had power over her, and she nearly spoiled
her first self-conquest by the fall which is very apt
to come after a triumph, as if to show us how hard
it is to stand fast, even when small allurements
get in our way.
She broke the clasp of the necklace, and Mrs.
Vaughn directed her to a person who mended such
things. The man examined it with interest, and
asked its history. Daisy very willingly told all she
knew, inquiring if it was really valuable.
"I'd give twenty-five dollars for it any time.
I've been trying to get one to go with a pair of
ear-rings I picked up, and this is just what I want.
Of course, you don't care to sell it, miss?" he
asked, glancing at Daisy's simple dress and rather
excited face, for his offer had fairly startled her.
She was not sufficiently worldly-wise to see that
the jeweler wanted it enough to give more for it,
nor to make a good bargain for herself. Twenty-
five dollars seemed a vast sum, and she only paused
to collect her wits before she answered eagerly:
Yes, I should like to sell it; I 've had it so long,
that I 'm tired of it, and it 's all out of fashion.


86o


[SEPTEMBER,







SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


Mrs. Vaughn told me some people would be glad
to get it, because it is genuine. Do you really
think it is worth twenty-five dollars ? "
It's old, and I shall have to tinker it up; but
it matches the ear-rings so well, I am willing to pay
well for it. Will you take the money now, Miss, or
think it over and call again ? asked the man, more
respectfully, after hearing Mrs. Vaughn's name.
I'll take it now, if you please. I shall leave
town in a day or two, and may not have time to
call again," said Daisy, taking a half-regretful look
at the chain, as the man counted out the money.
Holding it fast, she went away, feeling that this
unexpected fortune was a reward for the good use
she had made of her gold piece.
Now I can buy some really valuable ornament,
and wear it without being ashamed. What shall
it be ? No tinsel for me this time; and she walked
by the attractive shop-window with an air of lofty
indifference, for she really was getting over her first
craze for that sort of thing.
Feeling as if she possessed the power to buy real
diamonds, Daisy turned toward the great jewelers,
pausing now and then to look for some pretty gift
for Janey, to be bought with her own money.
"What can I get for Mother? She never owns
that she needs anything, and goes shabby so I
can be fine. I could get some of those fine, thick
stockings; hers are all darns,-but they might not
fit. Flannel is useful, but it is n't a pretty present.
What does she need most ? "
As Daisy stopped before a great window, full of
all manner of comfortable garments, her eye fell
on a fur-lined cloak marked $25." It seemed to
answer her question like a voice, and as she looked
at it she heard again the words:
But, Mother, that money was for your cloak.
You need it so much- '
Hush, dear; I can do very well with a shawl
over the old sack. Don't say a word to spoil
Daisy's pleasure.' "
How could I forget that What a selfish girl
I am, to be thinking of jewelry, when that dear,
good Mother has n't a cloak to her back. Daisy
Field, I 'm ashamed of you Go in and buy that
nice warm one at once, and don't let me hear of
that ridiculous box again."
After this little burst of remorse and self-reproach,
Daisy took another look; and prudence suggested
asking the advice of some more experienced
shopper than herself, before making so important
a purchase. As if the fates were interested in
settling the matter at once, while she stood unde-
cided Mary White came down the street, with a
parcel of work in her hands.
Just the person The Vaughns need n't
know anything about it; and Mary is a good judge."


It was pleasant to see the two faces brighten as
the girls met; rather comical to watch the deep
interest with which one listened and the other ex-
plained; and beautiful to hear the grateful eager-
ness in Mary's voice, as she answered cordially:
"Indeed, I will! You've been so kind to my
Mother, there 's nothing I would n't be glad to do
for yours."
So in they went, and after due consideration,
the cloak was bought and ordered home,-both
girls feeling that it was little ceremony full of love
and good-will; for Mary's time was money, yet
she gave it gladly, and Daisy's purse was left empty
of all but the good-luck penny, which was to bring
still greater happiness in unsuspected ways.
Another secret was put away in the empty jewel-
box, and the cloak hidden in Daisy's trunk; for she
felt shy of telling her little business transactions,
lest the Vaughns should consider her extravagant.
But the thought of her mother's surprise and
pleasure warmed her heart, and made the last
days of her visit the happiest. Being a mortal
girl, she did give a sigh as she tied a bit of black
velvet around her white throat, instead of the neck*
lace, which seemed really a treasure now that it
was gone; and she looked with great disfavor at
the shabby little pin, worn where she had fondly
hoped to see the golden rose. She put a real
rose in its place, and never knew that her own
fresh, happy face was as lovely; for the thought
of the two mothers made comfortable by her was
better than all the pearls and diamonds that fell
from the lips of the good girl in the fairy tale.
"Let me help you pack your trunk; I love to
cram things in, and dance on the lid when it wont
shut," said Laura,joining her friend next day, just
as she had well hidden the cloak-box under a layer
of clothes.
"Thank you, I've almost finished, and rather
like to fuss over my own things in my own way.
You wont mind if I give this pretty box of handker-
chiefs to Mother, will you, dear? I have so many
things, I must go halves with some one. The
muslin apron and box of bonbons are for Janey,
because she can't wear the gloves, and this lovely
jabot is too old for her," said Daisy, surveying her
new possessions with girlish satisfaction.
"Do what you like with your own. Mamma
has a box of presents for your mother and sister.
She is packing it now, but I don't believe you can
get it in; your trunk seems to be so full. This
must go in a safe place, or your heart will break,"
and Laura took up the jewel-box, adding with a
laugh, as she opened it, "you have n't filled it,
after all! What did you do with papa's gold
piece?"
"That's a secret. I'll tell some day, but not






SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES.


yet," said Daisy, diving into her trunk to hide the
color in her cheeks.
Sly thing! I know you have silver spiders
and filagree racquets, and Rhine-stone moons and
stars stowed away somewhere and wont confess it.
I wanted to fill this box, but Mamma said you'd
do it better yourself, so I let it alone; but I was
afraid you 'd think I was very selfish to have a
pin for every day in the month and never give you
one," said Laura, as she looked at the single little
brooch reposing on the satin cushion. Where's
your chain ?" she added, before Daisy could speak.
It is safe enough. I'm tired of it, and don't
care if I never see it again." And Daisy packed
away, and laughed as she smoothed the white dress
in its tray, remembering that it was paid for by the
sale of the old necklace.
Give it to me, then. I like it immensely; it's
so odd. I'11 exchange for anything of mine you
choose. Will you ?" asked Laura, who seemed
bent on asking inconvenient questions.
I shall have to tell, or she will think me un-
grateful," thought Daisy, not without a pang of re-
'gret even then, for Laura's offer was a generous one.
"Well, like George Washington, 'I can not tell
a lie'; so I must confess that I sold it, and spent
the money for something I wanted very much,- not
jewelry, but something to give away," she said.
Daisy was spared further confessions by the en-
-trance of Mrs. Vaughn, with a box in her hand.
I have room for something more. Give me
that, Laura, it will just fit in; and taking the little
jewel-box, she added, Mary White wishes you to
try on your dress, Laura. Go at once; I will help
Daisy."
Laura went, and her mother stood looking down
at the kneeling girl with an expression of affection-
ate satisfaction which would have puzzled Daisy,
had she seen it.
"Has the visit been a pleasant one, my dear ? "
Oh, very I can't thank you enough for the
good it has done me. I hope I can pay a little
of the debt next summer, if you come our way
again," dried Daisy, looking up with a face full of
gratitude.
"We shall probably go to Europe for the summer.
Laura is of a good age for it now, and we all shall
enjoy it." -
"How delightful! We shall miss you very much,
but I'm glad you are going, and I hope Laura
will find time to write me now and then. 'I shall
want to know how she likes the.'foreign parts'
we've talked about so much."
"You shall know. We shall not forget you, my
dear," and with a caressing touch on the smiling


yet wistful face upturned to hers, Mrs. Vaughn
went away to pack the empty jewel-box, leaving
Daisy to drop a few irrepressible tears on the new
gown, over the downfall of her summer hopes,
and the longings all girls feel for that enchanted
world that lies beyond the sea.
We shall see you before we go, so we wont
gush now," said Laura, as she bade her friend
good-bye, adding in a whisper, Some folk can
have secrets as well as other folk, and be as sly.
So don't think you have all the fun to yourself, you
dear, good, generous darling."
Daisy looked bewildered, and Mrs. Vaughn added
to her surprise by kissing her very warmly as she
said: "I wished to find a good friend for my
spoiled girl, and I think I have succeeded."
There was no time for explanation, and all the
way home Daisy kept wondering what they meant.
But she forgot everything when she saw the dear
faces beaming at the door, and ran straight into
her mother's arms, while Janey hugged the trunk
till her turn came for something better. ,
When the first raptures were over, out came the
cloak; and Daisy was well repaid for her little trials
and sacrifices when she was folded in it as her
mother held her close, and thanked her as mothers
only can. Sitting in its soft shelter, she told all
about it, and coming to the end said, as she took
up the jewel-box, unpacked with the other gener-
ous gifts: I have n't a thing to put in it, but I
shall value it because it taught me a lesson which
I hope I never shall forget. See how pretty it is! "
and opening it, Daisy gave a cry of surprise and
joy, for there lay the golden rose, with Laura's
name and "Sub rosa on a slip of paper.
"The dear thing! she knew I wanted it, and
that is what she meant by 'secrets.' I '11 write
and tell her mine to-morrow."
"Here is something more," said Janey, who
had been lifting the tray while her sister examined
the long-desired flower.
A pair of real gold bangles shone before her de-
lighted eyes, and a card in Mr. Vaughn's hand-
writing bore these words: Handcuffs for the
thief who stole the pocket-book."
Daisy hardly had time to laugh gayly at the old
gentleman's joke, when Janey cried out, as she
opened the little drawer, "Here's another "
It was a note from Mrs. Vaughn, but all thought
it the greatest treasure of the three, for it read:
DEAR DAISY,- Mary told me some of your secrets, and I found
out the others. Forgive me and go to Europe with Laura, in May.
Your visit was a little test. You stood it well, and we wish to know
more of you. The little box is not quite empty, but the best jewels
are the self-denial, sweet charity, and good sense you put in yourself.
"Your friend, A. V."


862


[SEPTEMBER,







HISTORIC BOYS.


HISTORIC BOYS.*

BY E. S. BROOKS.


VIII.

BRIAN OF MUNSTER: THE BOY CHIEFTAIN.
A. D. 927-1014.
[Afterward Brian Boru, King of Ireland.


NTO that picturesque and leg-
end-filled section of Ireland
now known as the County
Clare, where over rocks
and boulders the Shannon,
'"noblest of Irish rivers,"
rushes down past Killaloe
and Castle Connell to Lim-
erick and the sea, there rode
S one fair summer morning,
many, many years ago, a
young Irish lad. The skirt
of his parti-colored lenn, or
kilt, was richly embroidered
and fringed with gold; his inar, or jacket, close-
fitting and silver-trimmed, was open at the throat,
displaying the embroidered lenn and the twisted
collar of gold about his sturdy neck, while a deep
purple scarf, held the jacket at the waist. A
gleaming, golden brooch secured the long plaid
shawl, that drooped from his left shoulder; broad
bracelets encircled his bare and curiously tattooed
arms, and from an odd-looking golden spiral at
the back of his head his thick and dark-red hair
fell in flowing ringlets upon his broad shoulders.
Raw-hide shoes covered his feet, and his bronze
shield and short war-ax hung conveniently from
his saddle of skins. A strong guard of pikemen
and gallowglasses, or heavy-armed footmen, fol-
lowed at his pony's heels, and seemed an escort
worthy a king's son.'
A strong-limbed, cleanly-built lad of fifteen was
this sturdy young horseman, who now rode down
to the Ath na Borumma, or Ford of the Tribute,
just above the rapids of the Shannon, near the
town of Killaloe. And as he reined in hislpony,
he turned and bade his herald, Cogoran, sound
the trumpet-blast. It was to announce to the
Clan of Cas the return, from his years of fosterage,
of the young flaith, or chieftain, Brian, the son of
Kennedy, King of Thomond.
But ere the strong-lunged Cogoran could wind
his horn, the hearts of all the company grew numb


with fear as across the water the low, clear strains
of a warning-song sounded from the haunted gray-
stone,-the mystic rock of Carrick-lee, that over-
hung the tumbling rapids:

Never yet for fear of foe,
By the ford of Killaloe,
Stooped the crests of heroes free-
Sons of Cas by Carrick-lee.
Falls the arm that smites the foe,
By the ford of Killaloe;
Chilled the heart that boundeth free,
By the rock of Carrick-lee.
He who knows not fear of foe,
Fears the ford of Killaloe;
Fears the voice that chants his dree,
From the rock of Carrick-lee."

Young Brian was full of the superstition of his
day-superstition that even yet lives amid the
simple peasantry of Ireland, and peoples rocks,
and woods, and streams with good and evil spirits,
fairies, sprites, and banshees; and no real, native
Irish lad could fail to tremble before the mysteri-
ous song. Sorely troubled, he turned to Cogoran
inquiringly, and that faithful retainer said in a
rather shaky voice:
"'T is your warning-song, 0 noble young chief!
't is the voice of the banshee of our clan-of
Carrick-lee."
Just then from behind the haunted gray-rock a
fair young girl appeared, tripping lightly across
the large stepping-stones that furnished the only
means of crossing the ford of Killaloe.
See-see !" said Cogoran, grasping his young
lord's arm; "she comes for thee. 'T is thy doom,
0 Master! "
So fair a ghost should bring me naught of
grief," said young Brian stoutly enough, though
it must be confessed his heart beat fast and loud.
"0 Spirit of the Waters!" he exclaimed, 0
banshee of Clan Cas! why thus early in his life
dost thou come to summon the son of Kennedy
the King?"
The young girl turned startled eyes upon the
group of armed and warlike men, and grasping
the skirt of her white and purple lenn, turned as if
to flee,-when Cogoran,with aloud laugh, cried out:
Now, fool and double fool am I,-fit brother to
Sitric the blind Why, 't is no banshee, 0 noble
young chief, 'tis but thy foster-sister, Eimer, the
daughter of Conor, Eimer the golden-haired "


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


863






HISTORIC BOYS.


Nay, is it so ? said Brian, greatly relieved.
"Come to us, maiden; come to us," he said.
"Fear nothing; 't is but Brian, thy foster-brother,
returning to his father's home."
The girl swiftly crossed the ford and bowed her
golden head in a vassal's welcome to the young
lord.
Welcome home, O brother," she said. "Even
now, my lord, thy father awaits the sound of thy
horn as he sits in the great seat beneath his kingly
shield. And I- "
"And thou, maiden," said Brian, gayly, "thou









S--- ,- -



-U, V T. .

laug h. .S -t-ou s B h








BRIAN MEETS EIMEE

must needs lurk behind the haunted rock of Car-
rick-lee, to freeze the heart of young Brian at his
home-coming, with thy banshee-song."
Eimer of the golden hair laughed a ringing
laugh. "Say'st thou so, Brother?" she said.
Does the 'Scourge of the Danes' shrink thus at
a maiden's voice ? "
Who calls me the Scourge of the Danes' ?"
asked Brian.
"So across the border do they say that the
maidens of King Callaghan's court call the boy
Brian, the son of Kennedy," the girl made answer.
Who faces the Danes, my sister, faces no tender
foe," said Brian, and the court of the king of
Cashel is no ladies' hall in these hard-striking
times. -But wind thy horn, Cogoran, and cross we
the ford to greet the king, my father."
Loud and clear the herald's call rose above the
rush of the rapids, and as the boy and his followers
crossed the ford, the gates of the palace, or dun,
of King Kennedy of Thomond were flung open,


and the band of welcomers, headed by Mahon,
Brian's eldest brother, rode out to greet the lad.
Nine hundred years ago the tribe of Cas was
one of the most powerful of the many Irish clans.
The whole of Thomond, or North Munster, was un-
der their sway. When the clans of Munster gather-
ed for battle, it was the right of the Clan of Cas to
lead in the attack, and to guard the rear when return-
ing from any invasion. It gave kings to the throne
of Munster, and valiant leaders in warfare with the
Danes who in the tenth century poured their hosts
into Ireland, conquering and destroying. At the


OF THE GOLDEN HAIR.


period to which our sketch refers, the head of this
powerful clan was Cennedigh, or Kennedy, King
of Thomond. His son Brian had, in accordance
with an old Irish custom, passed his boyhood in
fosteragee" at the Court of Callaghan, King
of Cashel, in East Munster. Brought up amid
warlike scenes, where battles with the Danish
invaders were of frequent occurrence, young Brian
had now at fifteen completed the years of his fos-
tership, and was a lad of strong and dauntless
courage, cool and clear-headed, and a firm foe of
Ireland's scourge-the Danes.
The feast of welcome was over. The bards had
sung their heroic songs to the accompaniment of
the cruot, or harp; the fool had played his pranks,
and the juggler his tricks, and the chief bard, who
was expected to be familiar with "more than
seven times fifty stories great and small," had
given the best from his list; and as they sat thus
in the great hall of the long, low-roofed house
of hewn oak that scarcely rose 'above the stout


[SEPTEMBER,


i~
1 --







HISTORIC BOYS.


earthen ramparts that defended it, swift messen-
gers came bearing news of a great gathering of
Danes for the ravaging of Munster and the plun-
dering of the Clan of Cas.
"Thou hast come in right fitting time, 0
son!" said Kennedy the King. Here is need of
strong arms and stout hearts. How say ye, noble
lords and worthy chieftain? Dare we face in
fight this, so great a host?"
But as chiefs and counselors were discussing
the king's question, advising fight or flight as they
deemed wisest, young Brian sprung into the assem-
bly, war-ax in hand.
"What, fathers of Clan Cas," he cried, all
aflame with excitement, "will ye stoop to parley
with hard-hearted pirates-ye, who never brooked
injustice or tyranny from any king of all the kings
of Erin-ye, who never yielded even the leveret
of a hare in tribute to a Dane! 'T is for the Clan
of Cas to demand tribute,-not to pay it! Summon
our vassals to war. Place me, 0 King, my father,
here at the Ford of the Tribute and bid me make
test of the lessons of my fostership. Know ye not
how the boy champion, Cuchullin of Ulster, held
the ford for five long days against all the hosts of
Connaught ? What boy hath done, boy may do.
Death can come but once "
The lad's impetuous words fired the whole as-
sembly, the gillies and retainers caught up the cry
and, with the wild enthusiasm that has marked
the quick-hearted Irishman from Brian's day to
this, "they all," so says the record, "kissed the
ground and gave a terrible shout." Beacon fires
blazed from cairn and hill-top, and from the four
points," from north and south and east and west,
came the men of Thomond rallying around their
chieftains on the banks of Shannon.
With terrible ferocity the Danish hosts fell upon
Ireland. From Dublin to Cork the coast swarmed
with their war-ships and the land echoed the tramp
of their swordmen. Their chief blow was struck at
" Broccan's Brake in the County Meath, and on
that field," says the old Irish record, fell the kings
and chieftains, the heirs to the crown, and the
royal princes of Erinn." There fell Kennedy the
King and two of his stalwart sons. But at the Ford
of the Tribute, Brian, the boy chieftain, kept his
post and hurled back again and again the Danes
of Limerick as they swarmed up the valley/of the
Shannon to support their countrymen on the
plains of Meath.
The haunted gray-stone of Carrick-lee, from
which Brian had heard the song of the supposed
banshee, rose sharp and bold above the rushing
waters; and against it and around it Brian and his
followers stood at bay battling against the Danish
hosts. "Ill-luck was it for the foreigner," says


the record, "when that youth was born-Brian,
the son of Kennedy." In the midst of the fight at
the ford, around from a jutting point of the rock
of Carrick-lee, a light shallop came speeding down
the rapids. In the prow stood a female figure, all
in white, from the gleaming golden lan,, or cres-
cent, that held her flowing veil, to the hem of her
gracefully falling lenn, or robe. And above the din
of the strife a clear voice sang:
SFirst to face the foreign foe,
First to strike the battle blow;
Last to turn from triumph back,
Last to leave the battle's wrack;
Clan of Cas shall victors be
When they fight at Carrick-lee,"

It was, of course, only the brave young Eimer
of the golden hair bringing fresh arms in her
shallop to Brian and his fighting-men; but as the
sun, bursting through the clouds, flashed full up-
on the shining war-ax which she held aloft, the
superstitious Danes saw in the floating figure the
"White Lady of the Rapids," the banshee, the fairy
guardian of the Clan of Cas. Believing, therefore,
that they could not prevail against her powerful
aid, they turned and fled in dismay from the river
and the haunted rock.
But fast upon young Brian's victory came the
tearful news of the battle of Broccan's Brake and
the defeat of the Irish kings. Of all the brave
lad's family only his eldest brother Mahon escaped
from that fatal field; and now he reigned in place
of Kennedy, his father, as King of Thomond.
But the victorious Danes overran all southern
Ireland, and the brothers Mahon and Brian found
that they could not successfully face in open field
the hosts of their invaders. So they left their
mud-walled fortress-palace by the Shannon, and
with all their people and all their chattels" went
deep into the forests of Cratloe and the rocky fast-
nesses of the County Clare; and there they lived
the life of robber chieftains, harassing and plunder-
ing the Danes of Limerick and their recreant
Irish allies, and guarding against frequent surprise
and attack. But so hazardous and unsettled a life
was terribly exhausting, and at length each party
of them became tired of the other," until finally King
Mahon made peace and truce with the Danes of
Limerick.
But "Brian the brave would make no truce
with a hated foe. "Tell my brother," he said,
when messengers brought him word of Mahon's
treaty, "that Brian, the son of Kennedy, knows
no peace with foreign invaders, and though all
others yield and are silent, yet will I never "
And with this defiance the boy chieftain and
the young champions of the tribe of Cas" went
deeper into the woods and fastnesses of County


865






HISTORIC BOYS.


Clare, and for months kept up a fierce guerilla
warfare. The Danish tyrants knew neither peace
nor rest from his swift and sudden attacks. Much
booty of satinss and silken cloths, both scarlet
and green, pleasing jewels and saddles beautiful
and foreign" did they lose to this active young
chieftain, and much tribute of cows and hogs and
other possessions did he force from them. So
dauntless an outlaw did he become that his name
struck terror from Galway Bay to the banks of
Shannon and from Lough Derg to the Burren of
Clare. To many an adventurous boy the free
and successful outlaw life of this lad of nine
centuries ago may seem alluring. But "life in
the greenwood" had little romance for such
old-time outlaws as Brian Boru and Robin .Hood
and their imitators. To them it was stern re-
ality, and meant constant struggle and vigilance.
They were outcasts and Ishmaels their hands
against every man and every man's hand against
them -and though the pleasant summer weather
brought many sunshiny days and starlit nights,
the cold, damp, and dismal days took all the poetry
out of this roving life, and sodden forests and re-
lentless foes brought dreary and disheartening
hours. Trust me, boys, this so-called "free and
jolly life of the bold outlaw," which so many story-
papers picture, whether it be in distant Ireland,
nine hundred years ago, or in Sherwood Forest with
Robin Hood, or with some Buckeye Jim" on our
own Montana hill-sides to-day, is not "what it is
cracked up to be." Its attractiveness is found solely
in those untruthful tales that give you only the little
that seems to be sweet, but say nothing of the much
that is so very, very harsh and bitter. Month by
month the boy chieftain strove against fearful
odds, day by day he saw his brave band grow less
and less, dying under the unpitying swords of the
Danes and the hardships of this wandering life,
until of all the high-spirited and valiant comrades
that had followed him into the hills of Clare only
fifteen remained.
One chill April day, as Brian sat alone before
the gloomy cave that had given him a winter shel-
ter in the depths of the forests of Clare, his quick
ear, well trained in wood-craft, caught the sound
of a light step in the thicket. Snatching his ever-
ready spear he stood on guard and demanded:
Who is there ? "
No answer followed his summons. But as he
waited and listened, he heard the notes of a song,
low and gentle, as if for his ear alone:
"Chieftain of the stainless shield,
Prince who brooks no tribute fee;
Ne'er shall he to pagan yield
Who prevailed at Carrick-lee.
Rouse thee, arm thee, hark and heed,
Erin's strength in Erin's need."


"' T is the banshee," was the youth's first thought.
"The guardian of our clan urgeth me to speedier
action."--And then he called aloud: "Who sings
of triumph to Brian the heavy-hearted ?"
Be no longer Brian the heavy-hearted; be, as
thou ever art, Brian the brave came the reply,
and through the parting thicket appeared, not the
dreamed vision of the banshee, but the fair young
face of his foster-sister, Eimer of the golden hair.
Better days await thee, Brian, my brother,"
she said; "-Mahon the King bids thee meet
him at Holy Isle. None dared bring his message
for fear of the death-dealing Danes who have cir-
cled thee with their earth-lines. But what dare
not I do for so gallant a foster-brother ? "
With the courtesy that marked the men of even
those savage times, the boy chieftain knelt and
kissed the hem of the daring little maiden's purple
robe.
"And what wishes my brother, the king, 0
Eimer of the golden hair?" he said. "Knows
he not that Brian has sworn never to bend his
neck to the foreigner? "
That does he know right well," replied the girl.
"But his only words to me were: 'Bid Brian my
brother take heart and keep this-tryst with me, and
the sons of Kennedy may still stand, unfettered,
kings of Erin.'"
So Brian kept the tryst; and where near the
southern shores of Lough Derg, the Holy Isle still
lies all strewn with the ruins of the seven churches
that gave it this name, the outlawed young chieftain
met the king. Braving the dangers of Danish
capture and death, he had come unattended to
meet his brother.
"Where, 0 Brian, are thy followers ? King
Mahon inquired.
"Save the fifteen faithful men that remain to
me in the caves of Uin-Bloit," said the lad, "the
bones of my followers rest on many a field from
the mountains of Connaught to the gates of Lim-
erick; for their chieftain, 0 my brother, makes no
truce with the foe."
"Are there but fifteen left to thee!" said
Mahon.
"Is it not the inheritance of the Clan of Cas to
die for their honor and their homes ?" demanded
Brian. "So surely is it no honoring valorous men, my
brother, to abandon without battle or conflict their
father's inheritance to Danes and traitorous kings "
The unyielding courage of the lad roused the
elder brother to action, and, secretly but swiftly,
he gathered the chiefs of the clan for council in
the dun of King Mahon by the ford of Killaloe.
"Freedom for Erin and death to the Danes 1 "
cried they, as the voice of one man, says the record.
Again the warning beacons flamed from cairn and


866


[SEPTEMBER,







HISTORIC BOYS.


hill-top. In the shadow of the "Rock of Cashel"
the banner of the ancient kings, the royal sun-
burst, was flung to the breeze, and clansmen and


"THE BOY CHIEFTAIN KNELT AND KISSED THE


HEM


vassals and allies rallied beneath its folds to strike
one mighty blow for the redemption of Iyeland.
In the county of Tipperary, in the midst of what
is called the golden valley," this remarkable
" Rock of Cashel looms up three hundred feet
above the surrounding plain, its top, even now,
crowned with the ruins of what were in Brian's day
palace and chapel, turret and battlement and
ancient tower. Beneath the rough archway of the
triple ramparts at the foot of the rock, and up


the sharp ascent, there rode one day the herald of
Ivar, the Danish king of Limerick. Through the
gate-way of the palace he passed, and striding in-
to the audience-
hall, spoke thus to
Mahon the King :
"Hear, now, O
King i Ivar, the
son of Sitric, King
of Limerick and
sole Over-lord of
SMunster, doth
the summon thee, his
vassal, to give up
"iel to him this fort-
ress of Cashel, to
/ / disperse thy fol-
S lowers, to send to
/ him at Limerick,
bounden with
chains, the body
of Brian the out-
law, and to ren-
der unto him trib-
ute and hostage."
King Mahon
glanced proudly
out to where upon
the ramparts flut-
tered the flag of
Ireland.
Say to Ivar,
the son of Sitric,"
he said, "that
Mahon, King of
1/ Thomond,spurns
his summons, and
will pay no trib-
ute for his own
inheritance. Tell
thy master that
k the Clan of Cas
__ defy his boastful
words, and will
-- show in battle
OF THE MAIDEN'S ROBE." which are lords
of Erin."
"'And tell thy master," said his brother, "that
Brian the outlaw will come to Limerick not bound
with chains, but to bind them."
The Danish power was strong and terrible, but
the action of the two valiant brothers was swift
and their example was inspiriting. Clansmen and
vassals flocked to their standard, and a great and
warlike host gathered in old Cashel. Brian led
them to battle, and near a willow forest, close to
the present town of Tipperary, the opposing forces


867






FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.


met in a battle that lasted "from sunrise to mid-
day." And the sun-burst streamed victorious over
a conquered field, and the hosts of the Danes were
routed. From Tipperary to Limerick, Brian pur-
sued the flying enemy; and capturing Limerick,
took therefrom great stores of booty and many
prisoners.
And from the day of Limerick's downfall the
star of Ireland brightened, as in battle after battle,
Brian Boru,* the wise and valiant young chieftain,
was hailed as victor and deliverer from sea to sea.
But now he is a lad no longer, and the story of
the boy chieftain gives place to the record of the
valiant soldier and the able king. For upon the
death of his brother Mahon, in the year 976,
Brian became King of Thomond, of Munster, and
Cashel. Then uniting the rival clans and tribes
under his sovereign rule, he was crowned at Tara,
in the year Iooo, "Ard-righ," or "High King of
Erinn." The reign of this great king of Ireland
was peaceful and prosperous. He built churches,
fostered learning, made bridges and causeways,
and constructed a road around the coast of the
whole kingdom. In his palace at Kincora, near
the old dun of his father, King Kennedy, by the
ford of Killaloe, he dispensed a royal hospitality,
administered a rigid and impartial justice, and so
continued in prosperity for the rest of his reign,
having been at his death thirty-eight years King
of Munster and fifteen years sovereign of all
Ireland."
So the boy chieftain came to be King of Ireland,
and the story of his death is as full of interest and
glory as the record of his boyish deeds. For


Brian grew to be an old, old man, and the Danes
and some of the restless Irishmen whom he had
brought under his sway revolted against his rule.
So the old king of nearly ninety years led his
armies out from the tree-shaded ramparts of royal
Kincora, and meeting the enemy on the plains of
Dublin, fought "his last and most terrible fight."
It was a bloody day for Ireland; but though the
aged king and four of his six sons, with eleven
thousand of his followers, were slain on that fatal
field, the Danes were utterly routed, and the battle
of Clontarf freed Ireland forever from their inva-
sions and tyrannies.
Remember the glories of Brian the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er;
Though lost to Mononia and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kincora no more!
That star of the field, which so often has poured
Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet!"
So sings Thomas Moore in one of his beautiful
Irish melodies; and when hereafter you hear or read
of Brian Boru, remember him not only as Ireland's
greatest king, but also as the dauntless lad who
held the ford at Killaloe, and preferred the priva-
tions of an outlaw's life to a disgraceful peace.
Kincora, the royal home of Brian the King, is
now so lost in ruin that travelers can not tell the
throne-room from the cow-house; Cashel's high
rock is deserted and dismantled, and on the hill
of Tara the palace of the ancient Irish kings is but
a grass-grown mound. But time can not dim the
shining record of the great king of Ireland, Brian
Boru--Brian of Munster: the Boy Chieftain.


*Born, or Borumha, the tribute; therefore "Brian of the Tribute," or "of the Ford of the Tribute."








FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.


FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT was a good, sweet, and
earnest-natured little girl. She lived in Tompkins
Square, New York City, with her father and
mother. She might have been called a learned
girl, for she could speak German with her father
and English with her playfellows and school-mates
in the big breezy square, where she often went to
play after school-hours. But she was not happy.
Mina's mother kept house in the good old German
way she had learned in Berlin before Mina was


born. Mina had helped her in various ways, yet
she had never really kept house, nor had she so
much as learned .plain cooking. Her mother was
very busy until late in the afternoon at a factory
on Second Avenue, and, of course, her father was
away all day at his work. Now, it happened occa-
sionally that her mother was ill, and could not pre-
pare the six o'clock dinner. Mina wished to do
it, but really she did n't know how.
She tried to cook her father's dinner one day,


868


~


[SEPTEMBER,






1884.] FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL. 869


but it was a sorry affair. He did not say much "Have you been to the baker's? asked Mina,
about it. He only said that Mina was big enough rather dolefully, as Lizzy approached.










-. ".
"! ' ,- .


*- --.


t:,.:. K-,-- ^ *-^ -.
'2- -


"SHE WENT OUT INTO THE PARK AND SAT DOWN TO CRY."

now to be a help to her mother. Feeling very Lizzy smiled proudly, and answered: "Just feel
badly about it, she went out in the park, and of this bread. Look at the top crust and the
sat down upon one of the benches to cry. But bottom crust. I 'd break off a piece for you,


: r. *~ tI




I-r" A' t. .\ i. "'- -7 -
S 'I
,8~AL
AC=

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I'm


THE MARCH INTO THE SCHOOL-ROOM.

in a few minutes another little girl, a friend of but I could n't break it till I 've shown it to
Mina's, named Lizzy Stoffholder, came hurrying Mother."
along the broad walk. "Much she will care to see it," laughed Mina.


,I .






FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.


"She will; she will, indeed, for I made it,
myself."
Lizzy Stoffholder could talk very rapidly, and
in three minutes she had told Mina all about her
making the bread, and about her having learned
how to make it at a certain wonderful school
near by.
Oh, dear !" said Mina. "Do you suppose I
could go to that school? Would they teach me,
too? Would they let me join the class?"
-And that was how it came about that Mina
Smidt went to school. For at a quarter past two,
on the afternoon
of thev r:, r .:..
day, she imet .
her friend .



SN -











der in .th -_ p .rk .
and th t:.r i '
set out i N.. .V
125 St. ,,:i- .



old, wearing I7.iij, I.
apron, arnd % iit h'r hitr ni it
brushed bLrnecith a prpitr. i.-p po-.
litely eo-u rr.t d ri.-n prt n an.l -I.:.
a big room.
She is a kitchen-gardener," said Lizzy. LIZZ
Oh," said Mina. She does n't really work
in the garden, does she ?"
"No," said Lizzy, in a superior way. She 's
not that kind."
The fact is, Mina Smidt had been very un-
fortunate. She had never read ST. NICHOLAS,
which must account for her very natural mistake.*
The girl left them in the big room, and Mina
asked Lizzie if they used books for studying in
the school.
"No," said Lizzie; "only books in which they
write down the bill of fare and the time-table."
"So? Are we going in the cars, or to a
restaurant ? "


"No, indeed. We generally eat up the lesson
after it 's done; only sometimes we take it home
and eat it there. You '11 see. It 's just fun to go
to this school."
At that moment, ten little girls came in, some
friuleins and some misses and some mademoiselles.
They all seemed very happy about something,
and they were talking as fast as they could to
one another in English, German, and French.-
"Heute werden wir Fisch haben." "Nous aurons
du -foisson aujourd'hui." "We shall have fish
to-day."-That is what they were saying.
Then a young lady, wear-
in; a large white apron,
C1'ne in, and gave each
-,ii an apron. With hands
",:nd I ces perfectly clean, and
I'ii I! tly brushed, all the girls
iput o:n rtie aprons, and soon they
il-t.i..d (... i .-ind two in a procession.
SI\!l r, being a new-comer, was
pi,.I ed at the end of the line
S' n::t to Mademoiselle Louie
ij peau, aged nine.
Hark! A piano playing
a grand march-" Rory O'
S Moore," from the book
of Irish songs. It was
-- n't very appropriate,
-v but it sounded quite
Swell, and they all
kept step and march-
ed out into the hall
and through a big door
into the school-room.
4 :...~I Around the room twice
.. did they march, to the
stirring piano accom-
paniment, until six of
S'' 'the girls stood behind
S one long table and
six behind another,
IE AND MINA ARE SHOWN UPSTAIRS. and then Rory
O'Moore" expired
in a solemn chord, and they all sat gravely down
at the two long tables.
Such a queer, school-room as it was There were
three pleasant windows looking out on the park,
pictures on the walls, and a nice stove with a tea-
kettle singing on top. There was a big table at
one end of the room and behind it sat the teacher.
Mina looked at the teacher and wondered if she
was good to poor little girls who did n't know
anything. And the more she looked at the teacher,
the more she felt sure she should love her. On
each side stood the assistant teachers in their white
aprons. Behind the teacher was a dresser filled


* See article entitled Little Housemaids," ST. NICHOLAS for April, 1879.


870


[SEPTEMBER,







1884.] FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL. 871


with cooking utensils. There were also plates and
knives and forks on the tables, and on the long
table before each girl was a knife and fork. But
there was not a book or a slate to be seen. It
was not like a school-room at all, except that
there was a blackboard at one side in full view
of the scholars.
Then one of the teachers gave each girl a big
card on which was written a song. The piano
struck up a tune, and they all began to sing.
Mina being, as before remarked, a young person
of many polite accomplishments, soon joined the
merry chorus. She thought the song a very funny
one. It was all about going a-shopping for ham
and steak and fish and vegetables, with fine


by the time they reached the second verse, and
before it ended she had "joined in" with her
voice, although she had not learned the words.
We must prepare our bill of fare,
Meet every taste, yet have no waste,
Something for all, both great and small,
And all bills pay on market-day.
Different kinds of meat we find
All on a market-day;
And many fishes of every kind;
Which shall we have to-day?
Nice "roast beef" rare, choose it with care;
And beefsteak, too, the whole year through;
Chicken, remember, October, November;
Cheap price you pay on a market-day.
Then the lesson began. The teacher had a large
dish before her, and from it she lifted a fine mack-











-'4--
.- :. .

,"


'C-


GETTING READY FOR WORK.


"sentiments" about buying lamb chops in Sep-
tember and veal in November. Here is a part
of this funny song:
MARKETING SONG.
Rise up early in the morning,
All on a market-day;
Stalls are filled before the dawn,
And wagons on the way.
That is the way it began, and the girls sang it
so heartily that Mina had almost learned the tune


erel, split quite in two, and just from the shop.
"What is this?" said she, as she held it up.
"A fish," replied the class.
"What kind of a fish ?"
Mackerel! said every girl in the class.
"Here's another.-A handsome fellow with a
big mouth and sharp teeth. What is he ?"
"A pike exclaimed several of the girls.
"And here is a pretty one with stripes?"
"A sea-bass came the answer promptly.






FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.


"And these pretty fellows?"
Everybody knew them, and the entire class said
"smelts" in chorus.
Then the teacher pointed to the blackboard,
and there on the board was the BILL OF FARE.
The lists of fishes, with full directions for cooking
them. At once the teacher read off the first
direction for the mackerel, and then called on two
of the girls to take the noble fish to their seats and
to prepare it according to the directions. Then the
other fishes were given out, one to each pair of


"IT WAS NOT LIKE A


girls. Then came butter and flour to be mixed for
the sauce. Another girl was given an egg and told
to put it in cold water and boil it half an hour on
the stove, being very careful to note the time when
she put it on, and to take it off at the right mo-
ment. Mina, being a new scholar, was given a
plate of parsley and a knife with which to cut it
up, so that it could be mixed with the egg-sauce.
Every girl had something to do. Everybody could
talk except when the teacher was explaining the
work. The teacher and the two assistants went


from table to table, helping and showing, but not
doing the work. Each girl had to do just what was
assigned to her. The girl on Mina's right was
washing the pike with a damp cloth, and clean-
ing it in the deftest manner. Then she and
the girl who was helping her bathed the lovely
pike in vinegar to keep it from tumbling to
pieces when it should come to be cooked in the
oven.
Not far away was a girl slicing up some salt pork
into beautiful little ribbons. "Oh, that's the way,









,- ...tI I



. ,p' , :, -' ... .. -
. ,,, .









,i, =--












SCHOOL-ROOM, AT ALL."

is it ?" said Mina to herself. One of the girls took
Mr. Pike and made neat cuts in his glistening sides.
And then Mina had a chance. The teacher gave
her the ribbons of salt pork and showed her how
to put them in the cut places in the fish. First,
a long one near the head, then a little shorter
one, and then a little shorter one still, and so on,
clear down to the tail. And even the tail, too,
was decorated in the most fishy way possible,
by cutting into it with a pair of scissors, so that
it looked as natural as could be, and quite artistic.


872


[SEPTEMBER,







I884.] FRAULEIN MINA SMI


Then the pike was handed to some other girls,
though Frdulein kept a sharp eye on it, to see
what would be done next. In another week, it
might be her turn to prepare a fish in just that
way. The girls sprinkled the pike with salt, and
then dredged it with flour, and put it in a big
iron pan, with its pretty nose in one corner and
its artistic tail in another. Lastly, they poured
some water in the pan-just enough to cover the
bottom. Then the whole school gathered around
the big stove to see the pike put in the oven.
They shut it in warm and snug, and they all
looked at the clock, and said, in chorus,

"Bake twenty minutes!"


D


--


THE LITTLE COOKS AT WORK.


Friulein wished she had twelve pairs of eyes, so
that she could see every girl at once, for eac)l one
had something to do. She repeated over every-
thing the teacher said, so that she might remember
it. What a great deal to learn, to be sure Only
four kinds of fishes, and each kind cooked in a
different way. The pike was baked, the mackerel
broiled, the bass was sewed up in a bag and boiled,
and the smelts were fried. Friulein saw it all done.
The chopping of the salt pork for the frying-pan,
the making of the sauce, the broiling and frying.
VOL. XI.-56.


cooking? Did they not also sing the most ex-
pressive songs while the pike and the sea-bass
were cooking ?

All of us in this class wish to learn to cook
That we may be comforts at home."

That was the beginning of one of the songs, and
Mina felt truly glad that she had come. Perhaps
some day she, too, would be a real comfort to her
father and mother at home. Once they tried an-
other song, all about making bread. The teacher


)T GOES TO SCHOOL. 873


Every girl had a chance to do something. Even
little Mademoiselle Louie Japeau helped sew up
the sea-bass in the bag, when it was put into the
hot water. There was big Miss Mahitable Susan
Jones, the American girl, aged twelve, who fried
the smelts. She said:
She guessed the fire was pretty hot, and she
would go and get a drink."
How everybody did laugh! Go for a drink, and
leave those beautiful smelts to burn to a crisp ?
What a strange girl Miss Mahitable Susan Jones
must be Even Fraulein Mina knew better than
that.
How tell the wondrous tale ? How tell all they
did-those young disciples in the important art of


7:







FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.


called it the Bread-makers' Song." Here is one I have said that Mina Smidt might be called
verse: a learned girl. This was proved in a singular and
'Now you place it in the bread-bowl startling manner, just ten weeks after that remark-
A smooth and nice dough-ball, able lesson on fish. Mina's father and mother
Last, a towel, and a cover,
And at night that 's all. knew that she went on two afternoons of each
But when morning calls the sleeper week to a certain school, but as she never brought
m h er ltle breakfast biscuit home any exercises or books, they had an impres-
From that batch of bread." sion that she did not learn very much. However,
sly Mina said nothing, but took a wonderful
And so I will," said Mina, with enthusiasm. interest in her mother's work in the kitchen.
" It 's much better than the black bread of the Twice she suggested that the cooking could be
done better in another way, and
said that broiled steak was better
than fried steak, and that home-
..' -; '* i. made bread was better than the
..carraway-seed loaves from the
... grocery store. Friulein's mother
had her own notions about cook-
'" ing. Had she not learned it allwhen
S. t :.. .. she was afrtiulein in Berlin? Let

Father's dinner, or else say less
-, about her own dear mother's ex-
S '.. cellent German cooking.
._- ; Friulein was not at all alarmed.
.... She only said she should need the
-i ;i-h'-n tn hrla-cif for th anftprnonn


PUTTING THE FISH INTO THE OVEN.
grocery store." Everybody laughed, and Mina
knew she had spoken right out in school.
Of course, as it was fish day, they had a fish
song, and here is the first verse-an odd combi-
nation of rhyme and cookery wisdom:
Our lesson is fish, and in every dish
We would like to meet our teacher's wish.
But many men have many minds,
There are many fishes of many kinds;
So we can only learn to boil and bake,
To broil and fry, and make a fish-cake,
And trust this knowledge will carry us through
When other fishes we have to "do."
How the time flew The hands of the clock
seemed to race around the dial, and it was half-past
three before they knew it. Each girl went in turn
to the blackboard to make a copy of the bill of
fare and the time-table," or the directions for the
time the fishes must stay on the fire. There is not
space to tell all that happened on that eventful
afternoon. Some of the pictures here presented
will give you an idea of the way in which those
delightful lessons were learned.
And when it all was over, the teachers passed
plates to every pupil, and gave every one a slice of
*bread, and they cheerfully ate up the entire lesson,
and left only the bones and the directions on the
blackboard.


It was not without a thought of
how forward and self-confident
children can be, that the good Frau
Smidt turned over her kitchen to Mina and then
went to the next room to reckon how much it
would cost to go out to the queer little restaurant
on the corner to get a dinner after Mina had
spoiled everything in the house.
Five o'clock came, and the poor woman began
to be nervous. Half-past five, and she went to the
kitchen door and looked in, but Mina only waved
a skillet in the air, and said:
Shssss--"
Which being translated-if it can be-means
"Wait a little longer."-Six o'clock. The mischief
had been done. The dinner was surely ruined by
this time.-Quarter past six. Mr. Smidt arrived,
and his wife escorted him to the dining-room.
The table was set, and in the center stood a
covered dish. Mina was calm--quite calm.
They all sat solemnly down, and the dinner
began.
Nodings but berdaties ? asked Herr Smidt.
Nothing but potatoes," said Mina calmly.
Her father gravely took a potato. He was a
long-suffering man, accustomed to poor cooking,
which fact is quite sufficient to account for his res-
ignation. He gazed in a gloomy way upon the soli-
tary potato, and his wife said she hoped it would
be a lesson for the froward Mina, who presumed to


[SEPTEMBER,








FRAULEIN MINA SMIDT GOES TO SCHOOL.


iS9


,.J -


. V



.o.
4 -,


S -... ..
" .: .
X "'
.,'- "7


"ON A MARKET-DAY."
instruct her own mother, who had been cook in
the Hotel Badescherhoff, in dear old Berlin, ten
years before this silly American child had been
born. It was sad to think good German children
were being ruined by these New York schools. It
was very-
Hah !" Mr. Smidt had discovered something.
The potato His wife took one and hastily cut it,
while poor Mina stuffed her apron in her mouth to
keep from laughing.


'I.
r G.4


<7


J


r
''


Remarkable potatoes, truly i They were hollow
inside and stuffed with the most fragrant and
lovely sausage-meat Mein Herr ever tasted.
Mina's father jumped up and kissed her, and her
mother laughed till she cried, and Mina cried
till she laughed, which made it very pleasant all
around. Then she ran into the kitchen and brought
in-oh, such a fine dinner! There was not, to
be sure, a great variety of food, but it was pre-
pared so well that it made a feast for that plain
little family. To Mina, it was French cooking
with a delicate American flavor, and dashed with
a touch of the German style for the sake of the
Fatherland.
This was the first dinner Mina prepared, but it
was not the last. Many a day after that the good
German and his frau enjoyed their simple well-
cooked dinner all the more because of the bright
eyes of their happy little cook. To be sure Frau
Smidt felt it her duty at first to shrug her shoulders
at some of Mina's queer American ways" of pre-
paring food; but she was as proud as Mein Herr of
the clever little daughter who had learned so much
in the school where there were no books.
Meantime the good work of the school went on -
teaching and sending out dozens of little maids
who could be "a comfort at home."
It is not all play- if it were, it would not bring
about the desired results; but it is so like play
that there is no sunnier school in New York than
this same school in St. Mark's Place, where Miss
Huntington and her willing helpers invite all
poor little girls to come and be made happy and
useful, able to help their parents, and ready, if
need be, to earn their own living by and by.







A STORY OF A TREE-FROG.


THE PLAYMATE HOURS.

BY MARY TEACHER HIGGINSON.

DAWN lingers silent in the shade of night,
Till on the gloaming Baby's laughter rings.
Then smiling Day awakes, and open flings
Her golden doors, to speed the shining flight
Of restless hours, gay children of the light.
Each eager playfellow to Baby brings
Some separate gift; a flitting bird that sings
With her; a waving branch of berries bright;
A heap of rustling leaves; each trifle cheers
This joyous little life but just begun.
No weary hour to her brings sighs or tears;
And when the shadows warn the loitering sun,
With blossoms in her hands, untouched by fears,
She softly falls asleep, and day is done.









A STORY OF A TREE-FROG.

BY T. LANCE.


ONE sultry night, in Indiana, I sat busily writing
upstairs close to an open window. The night was
very dark, very still, and very hot. My lamp, placed
upon my desk, attracted countless numbers of the
insect world that come out to see their friends only
after dark,- some with long wings, some with short;
some with long and nimble legs that scurried over
my papers as though afraid they would not have
time for all their night's business; some with short
legs, deliberate and slow, that seemed to carefully
consider each inch of ground they traversed. Winged
insects of all sorts and sizes kept coming and going;
there was a constant buzz around the lamp, and
many a scorched victim, falling on its back, vainly
kicked its little legs in air.
Suddenly a clear low whistle sounded from the
window -a whistle somewhat like the sound made
when a boy blows into the orifice of a trunk-key.
Startled for a moment, I turned my chair and beheld
on the window-sill a little tree-frog gravely looking
at me. His skin of an exquisite pale apple-green
color-shone in the lamp-light. Fearful that I might
frighten him away, I sat motionless in the chair,


watching him intently. Presently he gave another
little whistle, as clear and sharp as a bird-note.
He was evidently making up his mind that I was
to be trusted (a confidence, alas misplaced), and
soon he gave an easy spring and was on the desk
before me. I hardly dared to breathe, lest he
should be alarmed. He looked at me carefully for
a few minutes; and then, hopping under the lamp,
he began a slaughter of the insect creation, such
as I had never before witnessed. He captured in
a flash any careless fly or moth that came near him,
declining to touch the dead ones that had cremated
themselves.
After half an hour's enjoyment of this kind, my
apple-green friend hopped rather lazily across the
desk,repeated the whistle with which he had entered,
-- as if to say good-night,- and went out into the
dark. I proceeded with my work and soon forgot
my visitor. But judge my surprise when on the
next night he again appeared, again signaled his
coming with his musical cry, and again took up his
position under my lamp.
For nearly three weeks did my small friend visit


[SEPTEMBER,







A STORY OF A TREE-FROG.


Re~





I;


my
room
nightly, and
one evening -
he brought
an acquaint-
ance, perhaps
even his son or
cousin. His relative
was very small and
rather shy; for a long
time he would not venture i
further than the sill, and even
when, at the solicitation of his
companion, he did summon courage to
hop on the desk, he would not come
under the lamp and have a luscious
supper, as he might have done. The
elder one and I became great friends.
House flies were his special delicacy.
Stealthily crawling up the painted
wall, clinging to the smooth surface with the litt
disks, or suckers, on his feet, he would draw close up
his body first one hind leg and then the other, a
when within proper distance, he would dart forwa
and, snatching the fly, would swing head downwar
his hind feet firmly glued to the wall! Then, attachii
his forefeet, he would move on in quest of another
He never missed his aim, and he would quietly a
calmly zigzag up and down the side-wall after eve
fly he saw there. He became quite accustomed
me, and would hop on my hand, and sit there looki
at me with a grave composure ludicrous to beho]
The final days of summer came at last, howev
and with them cool and frosty nights. He evident


thought he was safe in my room, and therefore
resolved to make his winter home with me. A
rustic stand of flowers stood in one corner of the
room, and in the earth and leaves which it held
did he (unknown to us) make his little bed. Alas I
alas During the winter a heavy weight was
placed on the stand, and in the spring, upon
the removal of the weight, we found the
V. shriveled body of my little friend-a victim
to misplaced confidence in man.

J For the benefit of those of
Omy readers who may not have
-seen a tree-frog, I may add that
it is in appearance similar to a
small pond-frog, but of a beauti-
ful clear green color. On each
toe of each foot there is a small
disk, or cup-shaped sucker, from
which by pressure it can at once
exclude air, and so attach itself
to the smoothest surface, walk-
ing calmly across a ceiling
as easily as its prey, the fly,
does. It has two cries. In trees,
its usual haunt in summer, be-
fore rain it utters a shrill, piercing
cry, that is harsh and deafening.
The other cry is the bird-like,
low whistle I have already al-
luded to. You may look for
hours for him in a tree with-
out success, as he lies
Motionless, his body
flattened along alimb,
his color identical with
that of the bark or
leaf on which he rests.


tle
to
nd
rd
d,
ng
r.
nd
ry
to
ng
ld.
erl
ly


THE TREE-TOAD AFTER HIS PREY.


877






878


FARMER NICK'S SCARECROW..


[SEPTEMBER,


FARMER NICK'S SCARECROW.

BY NORA E. CROSBY.

OUT in the corn field, grouped together, One rainy day the farmer went out
A flock of crows discussed the weather. To view the corn fields lying about;

Observing them, thrifty farmer Nick He neared the umbrella; looked inside;
Declared that the crows were getting' too thick." And what he saw, made him laugh till he cried !

" I must have a scarecrow-that is true: For in there, out of the rainy weather,
Now, would not that old umbrella do?" A dozen crows were huddled together!

So into the house the farmer went, So the farmer, laughing as farmers should,
And away to the field the umbrella sent. Said: "I fear .my scarecrow did little good."






s884- MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.



MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.*

BY MAURICE THOMPSON.


CHAPTER XIX.

GETTING READY FOR FLORIDA.

UNCLE CHARLEY and Mr. Marvin spent the
next two weeks in drilling the boys in the practice
of wing-shooting; for, though Neil and Hugh had
made great progress in the method of handling
their guns, they had, as yet, scarcely learned the
"A-B-C" of the theory and art of shooting.
They had fallen into some faults, too, during the
trip, and these were a great deal harder to get rid
of than they had been to acquire.
During these two weeks, the following was the
order of affairs each day: They arose in the morn-
ing in time for breakfast at six o'clock; after
breakfast they had a drill in shooting till ten; then
came two hours of study for the boys, while Uncle
Charley and Mr. Marvin rode over the plantation;
dinner was served at one and lasted an hour, after
which the boys were free for two hours; then came
another hour of careful drill, followed by a light
supper; then two hours of chatting or reading, and
to bed at eight.
Mr. Marvin's method of drilling the boys was so
simple that any one can follow it with very little
trouble. He made a spring-trap of a flexible, elas-
tic piece of wood, four feet long and three inches
wide by a half inch thick, which he fastened at
one end securely to a thick board, its middle rest-
ing firmly on a cleat, at an angle of about
thirty degrees. Upon the upper or free end of
this spring-piece he fastened a tin blacking-box,
hollow side up. A. notched trigger was fixed
by a hinge to the board in such a way that,
when the spring was bent downward over the
cleat, the notch could be made to hold it in that
position until it was released by pulling a long
cord attached to the top end of the trigger. This
trap was used as follows :
The elastic piece was bent down and made fast
by the notch in the trigger. Any small object
upon which shot would take effect was then
placed in the box. The pulling-string being sixty
feet long, when all was ready, the shooter stood
eighteen yards from the trap, while the puller took
up his position a little,behind and to one side of
him. When the shooter was ready, he said:
" Pull! and instantly the puller gently drew the
string, which released the bender of the trap,
and the small potato or block of wood, or whatever


formed the target, was thrown into the air, and
shot at before it fell.
The wide board, which formed the base of the
trap, was fastened firmly to the ground, by driv-
ing long stakes through holes made in it for the
purpose.
Traps with steel springs, and hollow glass balls
for targets, can be had of dealers in sportsmen's
goods; but they are quite expensive, and Mr.
Marvin's arrangement is just as good.
Neil and Hugh at first shot with a single
trap; then two were used for practicing at double
wing-shooting. Sometimes Mr. Marvin would
have them turn their backs to the trap, with direc-
tions to wheel about and fire, at the word pull."
This drill was interspersed with some pleasant talk
on shooting and on the habits of game-birds. Mr.
Marvin himself sometimes took a gun and per-
formed some quite wonderful feats of marksman-
ship. For instance, with his rifle he hit a potato
twice before it could fall from the height of fifteen
feet when thrown into the air. But the main thing
that he sought to teach the boys was the habit
of aiming correctly and of handling their guns
carefully. Their next trip was to be a long one, in
which Neil and Hugh would necessarily have to
depend largely upon themselves, and it was Mr.
Marvin's desire to have them so trained that no
accident need be feared.
Uncle Charley had written to an old hunting
friend who lived on the Gulf coast of Florida, to
hire him a good stanch boat large enough for
the whole party and their luggage, camp equipage,
dogs, et cetera. The plan was to coast from St.
Marks to some point on the lower part of the
Florida peninsula, stopping wherever they pleased
to go into camp and hunt; Mr. Marvin's object
being to collect plumes for the market, and bird-
skins and rare specimens of any kind for the
Smithsonian Institute.
The thought of going away down to the haunts
of the heron, the golden plover, the ibis, the spoon-
bill, the crying-bird, the snake-bird, the alligator,
and the panther, of seeing the orange groves, the
palm-trees, the wild semi-tropical jungles, the man-
grove islands, and the dreamy lagoons, and of
coasting along the border of the Gulf Stream,
under the fair southern sky, so charmed the boys
that they could scarcely sleep or eat.
Samson said he did not care about going down
to dem yallergator swamps," and he "reckon'd he 'd


*Copyright, 1883, by Maurice Thompson.


879






MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


stay at home "; but Judge wished to go wherever
Neil and Hugh went, even if there was danger.
Neil sent for a new sketch-book and a diary, a
supply of pencils and water-colors, and a hand-
book of botanical drawing. He was resolved to
spend more time than formerly in sketching; for
it surprised him now to find how well some of his
sketches looked.
It pleased the boys greatly when they saw an
account of their bear adventure, filling almost a
column of their home paper, The Belair Bugle. A
reporter had obtained the particulars by inter-
viewing their father, and had then dressed them up
until the affair really had the ring of a thrilling
encounter.
"What will Tom Dale and the rest of the
boys think of that ?" exclaimed Hugh delightedly.
" Wont they wish they were along with us? "
What will they say when they see that same
bear's skin used by Papa for a lap-rug in his
sleigh?" said Neil. "That '11 prove to them
that the story is true."
I mean to send Papa a' panther's skin from
Florida," said Hugh.
"And a fine collection of alligators' teeth,"
added Neil.
And I '11 kill a roseate spoon-bill and get Mr.
Marvin to mount it, as he did the owl, and I '11
send it to Tom Dale," said Hugh.
The evenings were now quite cold in Tennessee.
There was a light fall of snow, and the wind was
sharp and keen. Uncle Charley's sitting-room
had a wide fire-place with tall brass andirons and
a stone hearth. A big wood fire flamed and crackled
there constantly, and the boys thought there were
few things more enjoyable and comfortable than
to sit before it in an arm-chair and listen to a
good story read aloud.
Uncle Charley had but few books that would
interest boys. He took all the magazines, how-
ever, and the London Field and several American
journals devoted to shooting and fishing, so that
Neil and Hugh found plenty of good reading
matter quite suited to their prevailing line of
thought. Then Mr. Marvin was generally ready
with reminiscences of his hunting adventures, in-
to which he always managed to insert some good
advice, or some wise suggestions, intended for the
benefit of the boys.
So the time passed, and at last the day of their
departure for Florida arrived. Once more they
were on the cars, flying southward at the rate of
thirty or forty miles an hour. We need not follow
them step by step. Let us hurry to the warm,
green gulf, and find them sailing over its bosom,
their little vessel stanch and true, and all of them
as joyous as the sweet sea-breeze itself.


CHAPTER XX.

DRIFTING ALONG THE COAST.

HAVE you ever sailed on the Gulf of Mexico?
In winter the water near the west coast of the
peninsula of Florida is usually as calm as an inland
pond, so far as big waves are concerned, and the
breezes seem specially designed to make sailing
safe and enjoyable.
The boat that Uncle Charley had chartered
was called the "Water-fowl," and was about
thirty feet long, by ten or twelve feet wide, decked
over for about half its length, and furnished with
a supplementary canvas awning, which could be
used or taken down at pleasure. It was rigged
with a mainsail and jib, had a center-board, and
was, in fact, a very stanch, if not a very fast or
beautiful little craft.
Uncle Charley had hired the owner of the
"Water-fowl," Andrea Gomez, to go along as
sailing-master. He was of Spanish descent, about
fifty years old, short, broad-shouldered, and very
dark. He was a good sailor, and knew almost
every island and reef and river on the Florida
coast.
It would be difficult to exactly describe the sen-
sations of Neil and Hugh, as they felt the sea pal-
pitating under them, while the gentle breeze blew
them along at the rate of four miles an hour.
Neil stood upon the little deck and gazed dream-
ily about him. What did he see? In one direc-
tion a low, dark shore of marsh-grass and tangled
woods, with a border of shining white sand; in
every other direction, a sheet of green-blue water,
that met the sky and blended with it in a creamy
line at the horizon. How very, very far away
seemed his home at Belair, in cold and snowy
Illinois !
The sun beamed down upon the deck with real
summer fervor, but the breeze was cool and sweet.
A few gulls, drifting here and there, flashed their
wings in the light, and swarms of pelicans wheeled
around the sandy bars along the shore. As the
boat kept on its course, the outline of the shore
seemed to break up into fragments, hundreds of
small islands appearing along the coast. Now
and then a picturesque grove of palmetto-trees
stood up in clear relief from the sand ridges on the
main-land. Some gulf-caps, those strange clouds
of the southern sea, hovered in the far western
horizon.
Mr. Gomez, the sailing-master, was a very quiet
man, and sat by the tiller all day, smoking a short
pipe most of the time.
Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley lounged in the
after part of the boat, talking or reading. Judge


880


[SEPTEMBER,







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


slept on his back in the warm sunshine, with his
head bare and his face toward the sky.
When night fell, the sloop was run in among
some shore islands to a shallow, sheltered spot,
and anchored. There being no place to land,
supper was cooked on board, and the whole party
slept in the vessel.
Next day the breeze was fresher, and the waves
ran so high that Neil, Hugh, and Judge were sea-
sick; but the sloop bowled steadily on, notwith-
standing, and made many miles before night fell
again. It was a terribly long day for the sick
boys, and they were glad indeed when a landing
was made on a dry, sandy island, and they were
permitted to go ashore to sleep. Such a sleep as
tlp-- !I,,. rI. .. . ,,- , ,d i 1 rl,., Ill.


somewhat like a small craw-fish, had become
tangled in Judge's wool while he was bathing.
Judge put up his hand, and touched the squirm-
ing thing.
"Take'im off! Take 'im off!" he shouted,
prancing around on the sand, his wide-open eyes
seeming almost twice their natural size.
Neil and Hugh held their sides and laughed
as only merry boys can. No monkey ever went
through more comical contortions of face and
body than did Judge, as he danced frantically about
in his fright. With his arms akimbo and his legs
bowed outward, he "jumped up and down" on
the beach, yelling at the top of his voice:


NEIL SHOOTS A SNAKE-BIRD. (SEE PAGE 884.)


sun was almost an hour high, and Uncle Charley
had been fishing with fine success, and had brought
in several three-pound sheep's-head.
Mr. Marvin had been around the island with his
gun, but had seen nothing worth shooting.
As for Mr. Gomez, he had made coffee and pre-
pared an excellent breakfast. /
Neil and Hugh and Judge ran down and bathed
in the surf, and when they had dressed themselves,
they felt as fresh and happy as if they had never
heard of sea-sickness.
Oh, look in Judge's hair cried Neil, as they
started for the camp.
Hugh looked and began to laugh merrily. A
"fiddler-crab," one of those funny little animals,


"It 'll bite me! Take 'im off, quick : Take
'im off, quick "
Hugh had pity on him at last and brushed the
fiddler off.
I 'se not gwine inter dat water no more," Judge
muttered, walking away indignantly.
When breakfast was over, they all went aboard
of the "Water-fowl" and sailed away to the south-
ward.
Two more days passed without any adventure
of special interest. But the voyage grew more
and more delightful and entertaining all the time.
They saw vast numbers of aquatic birds hovering
about strange islands or flying high overhead in
long angular lines.






MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


Neil sat upon the deck and wrote in his diary,
or sketched whatever scenes he thought worth
remembering. -
One day as they were passing near an island
they saw a number of snipe settle down on a
marsh-meadow, and the boys asked the privilege
of going ashore and shooting some. One of four
folding canvas boats that Uncle Charley had pro-
vided was brought out and launched.
Now," said Mr. Marvin, as the boys took their
places in the little craft, with Neil at the oars,
"don't kill more than twenty or thirty. That
will be as many as we can use, and you know we
have agreed not to destroy any birds for mere
wantonness."
Neil promised that they would not transgress
the rule, and then, bending to the oars, he pulled
ashore. They found some difficulty in making a
landing, the shore being very muddy, but at last
they found firm footing. Back a few steps from
the water the meadow was higher and the walking
good. They separated a little, each sharply on
the lookout for a first shot at the game. They
had never hunted snipe, and, save such information
as Neil had gathered from books, they were unac-
quainted with the bird's habits.
The sloop had come to anchor, and Mr. Marvin
and Uncle Charley watched from the deck as the
boys proceeded to tramp over the meadow.
Presently two snipe sprang into the air in front
of Hugh, with a little sharp cry that sounded like
" 'scape, 'scape," and they did escape. Their
flight was like a corkscrew in its line. Hugh
blazed away, but did not touch a feather. At the
sound of his gun, several more birds took to wing,
giving Neil and Judge a chance for a shot; but
they did not do any better than Hugh. It was a
case of clean missing for all of them.
Uncle Charley, who was watching through a
strong field-glass, laughed heartily.
"The boys have met their match," he said to
Mr. Marvin; "they don't know how to shoot
snipe."
'"Experience is the best master," replied Mr.
Marvin; "they '11 soon discover how to aim. It
bothers the best of shots, for a while, to become
accustomed to a snipe's eccentric flight."
Judge's old flint-lock killed the first bird, but it
was n't a snipe. It was a clapper-rail, called by
the naturalists Ral/us crepitans, which he flushed
from some tall grass beside a little pond. This
bird flew rather heavily, affording Judge a most
excellent target.
Neil and Hugh fired shot after shot, but not a
snipe fell.
"I don't believe these cartridges are good for
anything," said Hugh in a hopeless tone.


Oh, it's not the fault of the shells," responded
Neil; "it's the wriggling way that these snipe
have in flying; a fellow can't cover them. I wish
Mr. Marvin would come over; he would show us
how to hit them."
Well, I'm not going to give it up," exclaimed
Hugh. I'11 shoot as long as my shells hold out."
Judge kept banging away with his funny old
gun, and when at last he did really kill a snipe,
his joy had no limit. That he had bagged two
birds before Neil or Hugh could kill one seemed
to him a most glorious victory.
"Mebbe yo' wont call my gun a' ole blundybus
no more !" he cried, holding up his game and
making comical grimaces at the white boys.
At last Neil began to understand the spiral turns
of the snipe's flight, and then the birds fell at
nearly every shot he fired. Hugh, too, soon found
the knack, so that the sport became very exciting.
Uncle Charley was delighted when, by the aid
of his field-glass, he saw that the boys were mas-
tering the difficulty.
"Bravo!" he exclaimed, "bravo! Neil is
knocking them down beautifully now. He has
caught the idea. There, Hugh killed one, too!
Another one down for Neil,-another for Hugh.
Why that's grand sport they're having over there,
Marvin; we've missed a treat! "
Yes; but I thought we 'd better not go. We 'd
have killed all we needed before the boys could
have got their hands in, and that would have cut
them out," replied Mr. Marvin.
The three boy-hunters kept up a noisy fusillade
across the broad marsh-meadow, and entirely forgot
their promise, and no doubt would have killed a
great many more than thirty, if Mr. Marvin had
not blown the bugle-horn, which was the signal
for them to return to the boat.
Oh, but did n't I hate to quit !" exclaimed
Hugh, as Neil was rowing them back. "I was
just beginning to get the knack of it."
Dat's jis me, zac'ly," said Judge. "I was a
ketchin' onter dat whirlymegig ob a way dey has
o' flyin', an' I could 'a' brought down heaps ob
'em, ef I 'd had a little mo' time."
When they all were aboard the sloop again the
birds were counted, and the score stood as follows:

Neil ............................ ................ . 15
Hugh ................... ......................... io
J udge ....................................... 3
T otal...... ................. 28

The clapper-rail that Judge had killed was not
included in the count, because Mr. Marvin said it
was so slow in its flight that it would not be fair to
reckon it in a score where snipe-shooting had been
the undertaking.


[SEPTEMBER,







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


For the rest of the day they sailed before a light
breeze, and at night they slept on deck.
Neil made some drawings of the rail and snipe,
and put a description of the snipe-hunt in his diary.
They did not stop to shoot any more until they
reached Tampa, a town far down the coast of the
peninsula, where, as they had expected, letters
and papers from home awaited them.
The orange-groves about Tampa were loaded
with luscious oranges, and the bananas were ripe
and mellow. Uncle Charley sent several large
boxes of both kinds of fruit aboard the Water-
fowl."

CHAPTER XXI.

A PICUS PRINCIPALIS.

AFTER a stay of two days in Tampa, in order to
give Uncle Charley time to write some business
letters, and to examine some real estate for a friend
in Tennessee, our party sailed out of the beautiful
bay of Tampa at sunrise, and turned southward
down the long Sarasota riyer, or-more correctly
speaking-bay, that extends along the peninsula
between the coast islands on one hand, and the
main-land on the other. In some places, owing to
large reefs of oysters and mud-banks, the naviga-
tion of those waters is quite "dangerous, but Mr.
Gomez was so familiar with the channels that he
kept the sloop clear of all obstructions.
Mr. Marvin desired to find the mouth of a certain
large creek that empties into the gulf about twenty-
five miles below the northern end of the bay, as he
had been told that through it a fine region for
plume-hunting could be reached. But it was no
easy matter to discover which one of the many in-
dentations of the shore was the entrance looked
for.
It was ten o'clock at night, with the moon shin-
ing brightly somewhat down the western slope of
the sky, when they anchored under a low bluff cov-
ered with cedar-trees. Here Neil and Hugh saw
their first sharks. The huge fellows were chasing
a swarm of mullet, and in their eagerness to capt-
ure them, would follow them into water so shoal
that their broad black backs would break through
the surface, while the mullet would leap bodily
from the water, sometimes falling a short dis-
tance out upon the shells or sand of the shore.
It was a strange sight, and the swashing sounds,
as the sharks struggled back into the deeper part
of the channel, broke upon the still, moonlit night
with an effect not easy to describe.
Mr. Gomez went ashore and perched himself on
the highest point of the bluff, where, as he sat
smoking his pipe, he looked like a round-shouldered


silhouette against the shimmering sky. At first
they could not understand why the old sailor had
gone up there; but soon countless swarms of mos-
quitoes, from a low marsh astern of the boat, as-
sailed them in a body. The wings of those legions
of warlike insects filled the air with an unbear-
ably irritating murmur, and the onslaught of their
piercing bills was almost maddening.
Here, this wont do !" ejaculated Mr. Marvin,
at last. We shall be eaten up by these mosqui-
toes. We must go ashore."
All hands assented. Neil and Hugh took their
double hammock and swung it between two cedar-
trees, where a strong current of the gulf breeze
would blow upon it. And there they slept sweetly,
entirely undisturbed by the mosquitoes.
Just before sunrise, Neil slipped out of the ham-
mock, dressed himself, took his gun, and went for
a short walk about the island. He found great
numbers of deer-tracks leading into a dark, impen-
etrable cypress jungle, but no deer were visible.
By the margin of a still, grass-fringed lagoon he
flushed some small herons and one or two plover;
but nothing worth firing at appeared until, in pass-
ing around an outlying spur of the swamp, he came
suddenly upon a pair of snowy herons, that took to
wing within thirty yards of him. The flash and
flutter of their broad white wings startled him at
first, but he raised his gun in time to get a good
aim at one of them, and brought it down in fine
style. He fired at the other, but it had gone too
far, and he missed it. Neil's bird, named by the
naturalists Garzetta candidissima, was in full plum-
age, and he held it up proudly for the rest of the
party to look at, as he returned to camp just at
breakfast-time. It measured thirty-nine inches
from tip to tip of its wings. The plumes, so much
prized as ornaments by ladies, lay loosely on its
back, curling upward toward their lower ends, as
white as snow and as soft as silk. Mr. Marvin
pronounced it to be a perfect specimen of its kind,
the finest, in fact, that he had ever seen; and he
asked Neil to let him prepare its skin for mounting.
The next day they reached the creek for which
they were looking, and after great deal of trouble
brought the sloop up to a good camping-place some
miles inland from the bay. Here the tents were
pitched on a mound, with a wide meadow on one
hand and a dense forest on the other. The heron-
roost was a mile distant up the creek, but shoal
water and an immense stretch of saw-grass, lily-
pads, and clumps of aquatic weeds prevented their
taking the sloop any further in that direction.
The mound on which the tents were pitched
was underlaid with a shell' formation, and at a re-
mote period had been occupied by some family,
probably of Indians, as a home. The remnants of


1884.-3






MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


an old palmetto hut were visible, and a few
gnarled orange-trees and some guavas grew scat-
tered about in the vicinity, while traces of a rude
fence bordered the wood.
The boys were delighted to see flocks of snipe
pitching down into the grass of the meadow, be-
yond which a small lake shone clear and bright,
with a live-oak hummock on its further side, and a
fringe of tall grass and rushes around its border.
Far off in the south-east, a ridge of sand with a thin
line of palmetto-trees on its summit was softly out-
lined against the sky.
Next morning all were up early. The night's
sleep had been refreshing, and breakfast was eaten
with vigorous appetites. Even while they were
eating they saw several large flocks of water-fowl
flying low across the meadow toward the lake.
Other flocks passed almost overhead on their way
up the creek to some lagoon or pond.
It was arranged that Mr. Gomez and Judge
should stay at the camp, while the rest took the
canvas boats and pulled up the creek in quest of
herons.
Neil and Hugh occupied one of these boats to-
gether, while Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley took
one each. The stream had not much current, so
that they were not longin reaching the lake above,
where the water was full of weeds, grass, lily-pads,
and all manner of aquatic plants,- truly a heron's
paradise.
While Neil was pulling the boat through a nar-
row water-lane between high walls of grass, Hugh
secured a fine shot at a great blue heron, the Ar-
dea herodias of our naturalists; but it was flying
at a right angle with his line of sight, and he for-
got to aim ahead of it. All large birds seem to fly
much slower than they really do, and they also ap-
pear to be much nearer than they really are, con-
sequently it is a common fault of young shooters
in aiming at geese, herons, cranes, and ducks, not
to allow for flight, and therefore to miss behind
the game.
Hugh now took the oars, which he could do
without changing his seat, the boat being a
double-ender," in order that Neil might try a shot
at the next game they saw.
Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley were already
among the birds, and their guns were roaring
almost continually.
The boys did not understand the windings of
the water-lanes, and in consequence they soon
found themselves pulling along the shore under
the boughs of some grand old live-oak trees.
Suddenly Hugh cried out: "Oh, look, Neil,
look There's a snake with wings Quick, shoot
it before it gets away He backed water as he
spoke, and stopped the boat.


Neil looked, and saw a strange serpent-like
neck, followed by a dark, winged body, wriggling
along in the water; the head was above the
surface, the rest of it below. It was a hideous
object as it squirmed and writhed along toward a
patch of grass and weeds, and Hugh really believed
that it was a winged snake; but Neil had read
descriptions of the snake-birds, and knew at once
that this was one of them. He fired and killed it;
and upon examination it was found to be far less
hideous than they had thought. It had a long
slender neck and a rather queer head, and its
habit of swimming with its body under water and
its head out had given it the appearance of a
regular water-dragon. The boys threw it in the
bottom of the boat, as Neil wished to make a
sketch of it and skin it when he returned to camp.
From the rapid firing kept up by Uncle Charley
and Mr. Marvin, it was evident that they were mak-
ing havoc among the herons; but the boys found
none, though snake-birds, named Platus anhinga
by ornithologists, were now seen in every direc-
tion; it was sometimes difficult to distinguish them
from the mottled moccasin snakes so numerous in
Florida.
At length, growing tired of the labor of rowing,
and Neil wishing to gather some strange-looking
flowers, they pulled the boat ashore at a dry point
on the wooded side of the lake. While Neil was
botanizing, Hugh went a short distance into the
woods, hoping he might see a deer. The trees
were mostly live-oaks and water-oaks of large size,
with wide-spread tops and buttressed roots; some
giant vines were knotted and linked from tree to
tree, and the foliage was so thick that scarcely a
ray of light could fall through. Hugh saw no
game, but a dull thumping sound almost over-
head and the falling of large fragments of bark
and rotten wood attracted his attention to the top
of a very tall dead tree, and there he discovered a
bird of which he and Neil had talked a great deal,
but which neither of them had ever seen-an
ivory-billed woodpecker-the handsomest of all
American birds. It was pounding away vigorously
with its great white beak against the lower side of
a rotten limb, about eighty feet from the ground,
and its broad back was fully exposed to Hugh's
,aim. He fired, and it fell straight down almost at
his feet. This was, indeed, a prize, for he knew
how his father would value such a specimen. He
picked it up and ran back to Neil, who exclaimed:
A Picus frincipalis Wont Mr. Marvin be
glad! I heard him say that a gentleman in New
York had offered him fifty dollars for the skin of
one! "
But I want to send this to Papa," said Hugh.
Oh, you can't do that without Mr. Marvin's


[SEPTEMBER,








MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


consent; for it was agreed that all valuable speci-
mens, plumes, and eggs should belong to him! "
responded Neil.
"That 's so," assented Hugh; and I suppose
it's right, too, for Mr. Marvin has taught us a
great deal."
They went back to their boat and pulled across
the shallow lake in the direction of the heavy
firing kept up by the other two hunters, but
before they could join them, the shooting was
over. Mr. Marvin had the bottom of his boat
padded with tufts of snowy and ash-colored plumes
which he had stripped from the birds killed by him
and Uncle Charley. "Many a fine lady will wear
these," he said, holding up some very long feathers.
He was delighted when Hugh gave him the ivory-
billed woodpecker.
Neil's good luck came as they were making
their way back to camp. He killed a roseate
spoon-bill-Platalea ajaja-by a splendid shot,
that won the hearty applause of Mr. Marvin.
It was quite sixty yards distant, and was flying
straight across the direction in which the boat
was moving.
The beautiful rose-colored wings, the long pale
pink tuft of breast-plumes, and the brilliant car-
mine shoulder-feathers of this bird made it a prize
almost equal in value to the Picus principalis.
Very well for one day," said Mr. Marvin, in a
satisfied tone.

CHAPTER XXII.

A SUDDEN DEPARTURE.

WHEN our plume-hunters reached camp again,
Judge was found to be in a very excited state of
mind. Great flocks of snipe had approached the
edge of the meadow nearest the mound, and he
had been impatiently waiting for Uncle Charley to
return, as he had been ordered by him and Mr.
Marvin not to leave camp before they came. He
had heard the sound of the shooting up at Weed
Lake, and that, together with the near approach
of the snipe, had rendered him doubly restless.
He had his old flint-lock across his lap, nursing it
tenderly; his game-bag was at his side, and his
shot-pouch and powder-flask slung in their places,
'ready for instant use.
Neber see folks stay so long, nowhere," he
good-naturedly muttered; seem like yo'not gwine
t' come back at all. I 's been mos' dead ter tackle
dem whirlymegig birds down dar."
But the Picus principalis and the roseate spoon-
bill had to be examined by him before he could go.
Anything red charmed Judge, and the tall scarlet
crest of the giant woodpecker and the dazzling


carmine shoulder-plumes of the spoon-bill put him
into raptures.
Hugh could not resist the temptation of joining
Judge in the snipe-shooting, so he presently
snatched up his gun and went out upon the
meadow. The grass grew in tufts, with a light
trace of water or soft mud between. The birds
usually rose singly, or in flocks of three or four,
sometimes from near the feet of the hunter, flying
low and dropping into the grass again after going
not more than fifty yards.
Hugh soon began to flush them, and he aimed
with great deliberation, reserving his fire until the
game steadied itself after its first gyrations in the
air. But he found it quite as difficult to hit them
now as it had been on the island. He missed
oftener than he hit, in spite of all his care. Sud-
denly he remembered that his shells were loaded
with very large shot for heron-shooting. This ac-
counted for his poor marksmanship. He went back
to his tent and got some cartridges loaded with
number ten shot, and when he resumed shooting,
he could hit a great deal oftener. But by changing
his cartridges Hugh lost a good opportunity. He
had just reloaded his gun, after killing a snipe,
when, happening to look up, he saw a scarlet ibis
flying overhead at a height of about one hundred
and fifty feet. Quick as thought, he aimed a little
ahead of the bright-winged bird and fired. The
shot failed. He fired again. Not a feather fell,
and the ibis, "like a flake of flame," swept on
toward the gulf. This was the only specimen
they saw during their long ramblings in Florida.
Hugh was very sorry he had not kept on using the
large shot! It would have been better, he thought,
to have killed fewer snipe and made sure of the
scarlet ibis.
Judge did not stop shooting while there was
daylight enough to see how to aim. He and Hugh
together bagged twenty-five snipe. The score
stood :
Hugh .................................... ........ 16
Judge ................... ............ ............ 9

That night it was discovered that Mr. Gomez
was quite a musician. He played upon a flute until
late bed-time, the mellow notes floating away to
thehaunts of the alligator and the dens of the bear
and the panther. Neil and Hugh swung in their
double hammock, with the cool night breeze blow-
ing over them, and watched the brilliant Southern
moon as it seemed to slip along under the almost
purple sky. They fell asleep, Neil to dream of
grand achievements and great fame as an artist,
and Hugh to dream of happy adventures among
the strange birds of those semi-tropical groves and
plains.


885







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


They were startled from their sleep early next
morning by loud voices and violent language; and
hurrying on their clothes, they found that a party
of very rough-looking men had come up the creek
in a large boat, and were insisting upon taking
possession of the mound for their camp. They
claimed to have leased the hunting on a large area
of ground about there from the owner.
"Show your lease," Uncle Charley was calmly
saying, and we will respect it, no matter what we
may think of you."
"I don't believe you have any lease, and I think
you are a set of impostors," said Mr. Marvin.
" You had better take good advice and go back the
way you came, and in short order."
"Joe Stout, I know you," said Mr. Gomez,
stepping forward and addressing the fellow who
appeared to be the leader of the intruders, "you
never had money enough in all your life to lease a
potato patch for fifteen minutes."
"Hello! Gomez, is that you, old man?" re-
sponded the ruffian, in a more pacific tone.
"You can see for yourself," answered Mr. Go-
mez ; "and you know that when I camp at a place,
I 'm there to stay as long as I please."
The men in the boat now held a council in low
tones, after which the leader said:
"Well, I guess you've got the right to the
campin'-place, so we '11 go away."
They then turned their boat about and pulled
down the creek until they passed out of sight
around a bend.
"They're a bad lot," said Mr. Gomez, when
they were gone; we shall be in danger so long as
we stay in this vicinity. They wont tackle us
together, but if they were to find one or two of us
away from our party, they'd shoot us in a minute,
on very little provocation."
"Where are they from?" inquired Uncle
Charley.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Gomez, "but Joe
Stout used to be a sponger up around Cedar Keys;
I used to see him often in my coasting voyages."
"What is a sponger?" asked Hugh.
"A man who fishes for sponges," replied Neil.
"A great many sponges are found in the Gulf off
the west coast of Florida."
"Well," said Uncle Charley, decidedly, "you
all may get ready to move at once. I'm not down
here on a fighting expedition. Strike the tents and
move everything aboard as quickly as possible."
There was no room for objections or suggestions
when Uncle Charley gave an order, so without a
word all hands fell to work, and in less than half
an hour the sloop was heading down the creek
toward the gulf. The wind was favorable, but
they often had to use the oars, as the stream was


very crooked. They passed the boat of their late
visitors about half a mile from the camp. There
was but one man in it; the others having prob-
ably gone ashore to hunt. The man in the boat
stared at our friends as they sailed past, but he
did not say a word. The bay was reached about
noon, and Uncle Charley ordered Mr. Gomez to
steer for Casey's Pass, which is the south-west
outlet to the bay.
"We. will run down to Charlotte Harbor," he
said, where game of every kind is more plentiful,
and where there will be no one to molest us."


CHAPTER XXIII.

UP THE CALOOSAHATCHEE. A PANTHER.

IN due time our friends reached Punta Rassa, a
small village, and waited there several days for a
breeze that would help them up the Caloosahat-
chee river.
From Punta Rassa to Fort Myers, a distance of
twenty-five or thirty miles up the river, was the
next run. The first part was through a rough and
dangerous channel, choked with oyster bars. and
mud shallows; but when at last they were fairly in
the Caloosahatchee, it was found to be a grand
and beautiful river, with high banks upon which
grew noble forests of pine and oak. They passed
Fort Myers just after night-fall, but the moon was
shining brilliantly, showing the place to be a for-
lorn-looking little village. Three or four miles
beyond, they anchored near a small mud island,
and slept well, despite some trouble with mos-
quitoes.
Neil and Hugh heard big alligators booming
about in the lagoons and mud flats, and a strange
sense of remoteness and isolation stole over them.
They began to feel as if they were getting into
a country where large and dangerous animals
roamed at will, and where strange trees and un-
known plants and flowers might be found. They
knew, too, that not far eastward of them lay that
mysterious island lake called Okeechobee, around
the borders of which still dwelt, in their own wild
way, the last remnant of Osceola's once famous
Indian warriors. Neil had read translations of the
old Spanish accounts of this region, clothed in the
fascinating mists of romance, and of the old inex-
plicable mounds, fortifications, and canals discov-
ered by the early explorers, and he hoped that it
might turn out that he should be able to find the
wonderful pearl-fisheries of the savages.
When morning came, they made haste to work
the boat past some ugly mud islands, through
shallow, treacherous channels. This took till


886


[SEPTEMBER,







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


nearly noon, the sloop going aground quite often
on hidden bars of black mud.
And now they began to get glimpses of alliga-
tors,-huge, hideous creatures,- sliding into the
water of the dark lagoons on either side of the
river.
In many places the banks of the stream were
very low, and our friends, standing on the deck of
the "Water-fowl," could see far along natural
openings in the woods to where green savannas,
those beautiful southern prairies, shone in the
sunlight.
Now and then a small sleek deer would bound
away into the thicket or brakes, or stand and gaze
wildly at the sloop as she slowly swept by.
Water-birds seemed almost to fill the air and
to cover the stream in places,-the sound of their
wings and their harsh cries filling the air, as though
bedlam had been let loose.
Neil and Hugh were very anxious to shoot at
some of these many wild things, but Uncle Charley
had forbidden them, as he did not wish to stop to
collect the game they killed, and he did not ap-
prove of shooting merely for fun.
Uncle Charley, Mr. Marvin, and Mr. Gomez
had to resort to the oars, and Neil to the pushing-
pole, in order to help the sloop along, whenever
the wind fell. The progress was slow, and Hugh
grew very impatient, especially when he saw a
raft of wood-duck swimming about on a little
estuary, under the richly variegated pendants of
air-plants, that swung from the boughs of over-
hanging trees. He could not help aiming his gun
at them, although he did not shoot.
"Hugh," said Mr. Marvin, you might get out
your tackle and catch us some fish as we go along.
Puta spinning-spoon on the line andtroll it astern."
The suggestion was a happy one. Hugh went to
his box and took out a strong jointed bass-rod,
fitted with a reel and two hundred feet of strong
line. He adjusted a trolling-spoon, and when all
was ready, he cast astern and awaited the result.
It was not a minute before something struck the
spinner, and his rod was bent almost double in a
trice.
"Oh, Neil, Uncle Charley, Mr. Marvin It will
pull me in! Come quick he cried, holding on
manfully, with his feet braced and his shoulders
raised.
Loose your reel! Give it line! Let it run!"
cried Mr. Marvin and Uncle Charley in a breath,
as they dropped their oars and sprang to Hugh's
assistance.
Uncle Charley stood ready, but he did not wish
to interfere unless it became absolutely necessary.
Hugh pressed the spring, and the fish ran off with
fifty feet of line at a single rush. Then began a


desperate struggle. This way and that, and around
and around, the strong, gamy victim sped, making
the line sing keenly, while the reel spun like a top.
Uncle Charley acted as general, directing Hugh
in his movements with such words as Give it a
little more line-check it now--reel up fast or it
'11 foul the line in those bushes-hold, it 's sulking;
jerk it a little !"
Every one on board was excited, and watched
the fight with great interest. Hugh's arms and
hands became very tired, but he was too plucky to
give up. He set his lips firmly and kept steadily
to his work.
You '11 conquer it directly," said Mr. Marvin;
"watch it closely; don't let it have any slack;
keep it fighting; it 'll soon tire."
Hugh felt the importance of his position, and
redoubled his efforts. Suddenly the fish rose to the
surface and "somersaulted clean out of the water.
My what a big fellow it is! cried Neil.
Judge was stupefied with amazement. He had
never before seen so large a fish hooked.
This last maneuver of the fish was very trying
on the tackle, but it stood the strain, and Hugh
promptly gave out some line as another surge
followed. Some wide circles were now run by the
game at lower speed, and then Hugh felt the strain
grow less.
"Now give him the butt! cried Uncle Charley.
Hugh checked the line suddenly and firmly, and
finding no more fight at the end of it, reeled it up
slowly until the fish was drawn to the surface
close to the boat.
Mr. Marvin had the gaff ready, and leaning over
the gunwale, hooked the big fish and lifted it
aboard.
It was a cavalli of seven or eight pounds weight.
That night they anchored under a bluff and went
ashore to cook their supper. There being no
danger of rain, and the mosquitoes being trouble-
some on the water, they hung their hammocks on
the highest ground they could find. Here the
wood was thin and the trees small, though at a
few rods distance began a densely timbered swamp
that looked impenetrable. They had eaten nothing
but a cold luncheon since an early breakfast, and
all were very hungry. It was while they were
sipping their hot coffee, and talking over the
day's experience by a dim little fire, that they first
heard a peculiar cry, or wail, coming out of the
swamp. Uncle Charley stopped in the midst of a
sip; Mr. Marvin turned his head to one side to
listen intently; and Mr. Gomez said:
"A panther!"
Judge jumped as if something had bitten him.
"Ugh! Laws o' massy What we gwine do ?" he
cried, for he was badly frightened.







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


Let's go and kill it," said Hugh.
"How far away do you think it is?" Neil in-
quired of Uncle Charley, as they heard it scream
again.
"It 's right down there in the swamp; it can
not be very far away," replied Uncle Charley.
I thought I heard dogs barking awhile ago,"
remarked Mr. Gomez. "I think the Indians are


Arrangements were accordingly made to divide
the night into watches. Neil and Hugh were to
sit up until twelve o'clock, after which Mr. Marvin
and Mr. Gomez were to divide the rest of the night,
allowing Uncle Charley, who had suffered all day
with headache, to get undisturbed rest.
A sufficient supply of dry wood had been gath-
ered, so that a fire could be kept burning all night.


- --
.: --


:-,--=-:'2.- ":"- ~- -- : '. --


"'NOW GIVE HIM THE BUTT!' CRIED UNCLE CHARLEY."


on a big hunt. Perhaps they have driven the
panther into this little hummock."
"Dem good-fur-nuffin Injuns '11 jes' scalp us
for sho'," muttered Judge.
The boys looked at each other a little uneasily.
It was not very pleasant to think of being sur-
rounded by savages and having a panther prowl-
ing about close to their unprotected camp.
Oh, the Indians are harmless," said Mr. Gomez,
"but we 'll have to look out for that panther;
for, if it has been chased for a day or two, it may
be desperate and dangerous."


The moon did not rise until about ten o'clock;
but when its light began to fall across the land-
scape, the swamp in which the panther seemed to
be roaming looked doubly wild and weird.
Hugh and Neil kept close to the fire, with their
guns resting across their knees, ready for any
emergency.
At last, near eleven o'clock, the occasional
screams of the panther suddenly ceased, and more
than half an hour passed before anything further
was heard; then all at once Neil saw a large
animal run up a tree and take a cat-like position


888


[SEPTEMBER,







MARVIN AND HIS BOY HUNTERS.


on a limb about forty feet from the ground. The
moonlight fell upon it from such a direction that
its outlines were strongly marked against some
masses of dark foliage. Neil touched Hugh's arm
and whispered: "Yonder it is, see!" and he
pointed toward it with his finger.
Hugh's gaze discovered it very quickly. Both
boys felt a strange thrill at sight of the beast. They
clutched their guns and regarded each other for a
moment in silence. Neil was the first to speak.
Are you afraid, Hugh ?" he whispered. Shall
we call Uncle Charley and the rest ?"
Hugh caught a meaning in Neil's words not
directly expressed by them, and at once he replied:
No; let's kill the panther ourselves. My gun
is loaded with nine buckshot in each barrel."
So is mine," said Neil. How many shells
have you ?"
"Ten, answered Hugh," after counting them.
"I have eight," said Neil.
"Well," asked Hugh, what do you say?"
Let 's try it by ourselves," was Neil's reply.
All right."
They both rose and stood for a moment hesi-
tating.
We must have some plan of action," said Neil.
Let's slip down close to the tree, take good aim
at the beast, fire both barrels at it, and run back
here," answered Hugh.
"Thirty-six buckshot ought to kill it," said Neil.
"Why, of course exclaimed Hugh.
We must be sure not to miss," cautioned Neil;
" and to aim at its shoulder," he added.


"Yes," answered Hugh. "How proud Uncle
Charlie will be, if we get that panther's skin "
The tree, upon a limb of which the panther had
stationed itself, was about two hundred yards dis-
tant from the fire.
Come on," said Neil, and keep cool."
Side by side the boys walked slowly and cau-
tiously toward the tree.
The panther saw them, no doubt; for it crouched
flat on the limb, and gave forth a low, tremulous
scream.
Hugh halted involuntarily, but Neil touched his
arm and whispered:
"Come on."
The panther screamed again almost immediately,
this time much louder than before. It required
all the courage the boys could command to march
straight on toward the ferocious beast; but Neil
would never turn back when once he had
started, and Hugh was too proud to abandon his
brother in the face of danger. They went on un-
til they were within fifty feet of the tree. The
panther had turned its face in their direction, and
its eyes glared savagely at them.
"Ready, now," whispered Neil.
"Yes, ready," answered Hugh.
"When I say 'fire,'-blaze away!" added
Neil.
All right," said Hugh.
They raised their guns and aimed as steadily as
they could.
Fire exclaimed Neil, and the woods fairly
shook with the roar of their guns.


(To be continued.)


THE PET SWAN.


VOL. XI.-57.


889






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FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


LITTLE BERTIE.
BY BESSIE HILL.












SONE day little
Bertie Green came
running in from the
fields. She carried
something in her apron, but no
S one could see what it was. She
went up to her mother's room.
Her mother was very tired, and
was resting in the big easy-chair.
"Oh, Mamma," said Bertie, "let 's
play three wishes 1 Play you 're
a poor woman and I 'm a be-yoo-
tiful fairy. Will you, Mamma ? "
Mamma laughed, and said she
Should try.
Good !" said Bertie, "you 'll
see what a lovely game it is, Mam-


894


SEPTEMBER,





r884.s FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 695

ma. Now, shut your eyes tight,'cause we're going to begin!
I 'm a fairy, and I '11 grant you three wishes. There 's some-
thing in my apron, you know, Mamma, but it 's a secret.
Now, WISH!
Well," said mamma, closing her eyes, let me think of
something to wish for."
"That's right, Mamma; wish for something very nice-
a flower, or a cherry, or anything!"
"I wish for a-flower," said her mamma, very slowly.
Here it is! cried Bertie, laughing with joy, and hand-
ing her mamma a lovely rose. "Now wish again, Mamma."
Let-me-think," said mamma again; now what
SHALL I wish for ? "
Something to eat! the fairy hinted.
"Oh, yes, something to eat!" mamma said; "well, I
wish-I wish for two nice cherries! "
"Good! good!" shouted Bertie, giving mamma a bright
little red bunch. How DID you know? Are they sweet ?'"
"Yes, indeed," said mamma, "and I thank you very much,
good fairy! But there were to be three wishes. I can
have another wish, you know!"
"Y-e-s!" said Bertie, looking troubled, and letting go of
the little empty apron; "only, I don't know how to play
any more wishes."
"I do! said mamma; "I wish for a kiss!" Then you
should have seen the happy fairy climb up, throw her little
arms around mamma's neck and kiss her again and again 1
That was the very best wish of all," said mamma.








896


9th
MONTH.


PHOEBUS now drives into the Scales, And tips the beam, and gets a fall,
His skyward course descending, Just as the summer's ending.


Day Day Moon's
of of Age.
Month. Week.

1 Mon. 12
2 Tues. 13
3 Wed. 14
4 Thur. FULL
5 Fri. 16
6 Sat. 17
'7 18
8 Mon. 19
9 Tues. 20
10 Wed. 21
11 Thur. 22
12 Fri. 23
13 Sat. 24
14 25
15 Mon. 26
16 Tues. 27
17 Wed. 28
18 Thur. 291
19 Fri. NEW
20 Sat. 1
21 2
22 Mon. 3
23 Tues. 4
24 Wed. 5
25 Thur. 6
26 Fri. 7
27 Sat. 8
28 | 9
29 'Mon. 10
30 Tues. 11
--


Moon's Sun on
Place. Noon Holidays and Incidents.
Mark.
I1. M. SPORT FOR THE MONTH.
Capri. 12. LouisXIV. France,d.1715 -
Aqua. 12. Gen. Moreau, died 1813. HERE and there, on brook and river,
11.59 Oliver Cromwell, d. 1658. Where the shadows float and quiver,
Pushing gayly from the shore,
S 11.59 Chateaubriand, born 1768. Merry rowers ply the oar.
Pisces 11.58 Richelieu, born 1585.
11.58 EVENING SKIES FOR YOUNG ASTRONOMERS.
11.58 13th Sunday after Trinity. (See Introduction, page 255, ST. NICHOLAS for January.)*
Aries 11.57 Capture Sebastopol, 1855.
11.57 JameslV. Scotl'd, d. 1513. SEPTEMBER 5th, 830 P. M.
If you want to see VENUS, JUPITER, or SATURN, you must
Taurus 11.57 3 near Aldebaran. take a peep out of an eastern window about four o'clock in
11.56 the morning.
Orion 11.56 f Saturn. Altair is now slightly to the west of our south mark.
Near it, but a trifle to the east, is a pretty little diamond-shaped
Gemini 11.56 Gen. JamesWolfe,d. 1759. group of stars, often called Job's Coffin. These are in the con-
Cancer 11.55 14th Sunday after Trinity. stellation of The Dolhzin. Exactly in the south, at some dis-
S 11.55 C( near Venus. tance below Altair, and pointing to that star, are two stars
quite near together that mark the Zodiac constellation Cari-
Leo 11.55 I Jupiter. cornus, or Th/e Goat. The upper one of the two has afaint
11.54 Philip IV. Spain, d. 1665. star close to it. The lower one, called Beta Capricorni, is
11.54 remarkable this year from the fact that it is covered by the
moon once in the course of each month. Whenever the place
11.53 Pres. Garfield, died 1881. of the moon is marked in the Almanac as being in Cafricoreas,
11.53 Alex. the Great, b. 356 B.C. you will see her not far from this star, generally to the east
11.53 15th Sundayafter Trinity. or west of it. But in October, the occultation (as the passage
of the moon over a star is called) will occur at an hour when
Libra 11.52 (( near Mars. we can observe it.
S 11.52 Capture of Andre, 1780. The Square of Pegasus is now high up in the east. The
Ophiuch 11.52 great Dipper is low down in the north-west. Lyra, the Beauti-
ful, has passed to the west of our south mark, and The Swan,
S 11.51 with its leading brilliant Arided, has crept nearly to the point
Sagit. 11.51 Daniel Boone, died 1820. overhead. Antares, the red star of the c s setting in
11.51 Louis XIII.France,b.1601 the south-west. The bright star rising ,,. I.,,: ., L.orth-east
.16th S y ar is Capella in Auriga, the Charioteer.
11.50 16th Sunday after Trinity. We can now trace another step in the course of the sun.
Capri. 11.50 Admiral Nelson, b. 1758. From the point we noted last month which he occupies on
iAqua. 11.50 the 22d of November, he passes through the constellation of
1 Sagittarius, TheA rcher, during December, andreachesapoint
some distance below Beta Capncorni on the 2rst of January.


THE WHIRLWIND AND THE ZEPHYR.


"WHY are you so fierce?" said a gentle Zephyr, that had been blowing over rose-gardens and was
laden with fragrance, to a Whirlwind that was dashing furiously around.
Oh! said the Whirlwind, "I'm not fierce; that's energy! I'm only a good healthy Whirlwind,
that's all. You -poor little Zephyr, will die some time for lack of breath;" and so saying, he seized a
rose-bush and almost tore it up by the roots, scattering the rose-leaves far and wide.
"Alas! said the Zephyr, as she hovered tenderly over the rose-bush, and tried weakly to gather up the
fallen petals, you 're not healthy for others, my friend, and you do not seem to know that might does not
make right; as for me, I think a kiss is better than a blow."


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


6HE SIT. rIGHOLAS ILMANAG SEPTEMBER,


BY ROYAL AND BARR HILL.









898 JACK IN THE-PULPIT


-, I'-
Q~~r JA;


' ,E .,, I w



JAC K -IN -THE -PULPI T.



THE nightingale by moonlight clear
So sweetly sang, all came to hear.
The raven said: "I'd like to see
So many listening to me,
And when the nightingale is through
I'll show the world what I can do."
The nightingale was hardly done,
Before the raven had begun,
But as the people heard his lay,
They stopped their ears and ran away.


The raven slowly shook his head;
0 nightingale," he sadly said,
The difference I can not see,-
They list to you; they run from me.
I wish I knew the reason why!
You sang your song, and so did I."
The nightingale made soft reply:
"Was anybody listening there ?
I did not know; I do not care.
My mate is sitting on her nest
To guard the eggs beneath her breast;
As in the thicket she must hide,
She can not see the moon outside.
To her I sing with all my might
The beauty of the glorious night,
And can not tell it half, although
I love it so! I love it so! "

This pretty song-story by Selma W. Paine, a
friend of my birds, is as true of people as it is
of birds. There are raven-folk and nightingale-
folk among young and old, Deacon Green says,
and you meet them every day, in one way or
another.
Think about it, each one of you, dearly beloveds,


and see whether you belong to the ravens or the
nightingales.
A NEW WORD-GAME.

HERE is something a little out of my line. But
as the Little School-ma'am hands it in, and begs me
to show it to you, I can only say, "Certainly I
will! The little lady says it will amuse you and
your elders, in or out of doors, and that it comes
to her from a friend of ST. NICHOLAS, Mr. George
B. Bartlett.
Here it is; but don't all play it at once, my
chicks, or my birds will think there's a battle rag-
ing between the crows and the katydids. It is
called by a big name, too; but the Little School-
ma'am assures me that it is perfectly harmless.
Let me know how you like it, please.

MENTAL WORD CULTURE,

At last, by a change of rule and method, the good old game of word-
making can be played without printed cards or letters, by the sum-
mer moonlight or winter fireside. The memory will be greatly
strengthened by this new and fascinating amusement, which will also
cultivate correct spelling and bring to notice many curious words.
Any number of players may join. The firstin line mentions any word
of two or three letters, and the one who sits next makes another word
of it by adding one or more letters. The third player does the same
in his turn; and so on, until a word is made to which no one can add;
and this completed word belongs to the player who finished it. This.
player then starts another, which goes on in the same way until fin-
ished, and the player who first secures five words wins the game,
which is subject to the following rules:
No proper names can be used.
No word can be changed unless at least one letter is added, and
the new word is of different meaning from the one before it.
No plural or change of tense can be used to make a word.
Before starting a new word, the player must call out in order the-
words he has already secured, which can be taken away at this
time by any player who can add to any of them, or combine any of
them into other words by adding one or more letters.
If any player discovers an error of spelling in any word given
out, he can claim it for his own by giving the correct spelling.
Any player may call on another for the definition of any of his.
words, and if the spelling be not correct for the word of thatmeaning,
he can claim it, although correctly spelled for another meaning.
No unreasonable delay is permitted, as the player next in turn can
play if he has waited three minutes, which he can compute by count-
ing slowly the numbers to one hundred and eighty.
Here are a few specimen words and changes:
Am, ram, ream, cream, scream.
At, cat, cart, cater, canter, decanter.
Wig, twig, twinge.
He, hem, helm, helmet.

WHAT NOISE DOES THE BEAVER MAKE

SEVERAL months ago, I'm told, ST. NICHOLAS
asked you this question, and out of many letters of
reply that came, only a few were based on actual
observation by the writers. These answers you
shall hear now:
Bertha. M. S. describes a pet beaver that had
been given to a member of her family. She says
the noise it made was exactly like the cry of a very
young baby in distress.
John T. McS. says, It's a soft splash, that you
hear only once, just as the beaver turns from the
dam it is building."
And Edgar G. B., a twelve-year-old boy, living
in Urbana, Ohio, writes : "I want to tell you
about the noise the beaver makes. He makes it
with his tail, in using it as a trowel when he builds
his dam. It sounds like clapping your hand on
a board or piece of hard earth."


898


JACK-IN


THE-PULPIT








JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


A CRAB-BAROMETER.
WELL, what shall I hear next? This very day,
I have heard somebody tell the dear Little School-
ma'am about a kind of crab that is used by the
natives of the Chiloe Islands as a natural barom-
eter. It appears that the shell of this sensitive
little kicker is nearly white in dry weather, but
whenever it is exposed to moisture, little red spots
appear. These deepen and thicken according to
the degree of dampness to which the shell is ex-
posed, until finally, in the rainy season, it becomes
red all over.
Have any of you been to the Chiloe Islands, and
have you ever seen this particular sort of crab?
Is it a land-crab ? I suppose it is ; for a water-crab,
sensitive to dampness, would n't make a very satis-
factory barometer, I fancy. Or is it only a sort
of posthumous crab, whose real life of usefulness,
so to speak, begins after his death? Who knows?

WHY TUMBLER.
VINCENTOWN, July ad.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I think I have found an answer to
your July question: Certain drinking-vessels, one or two centuries
ago, were called tumblers, because they had a pointed or round
base, and could not be set down with any liquor in them, thus com-
pelling the drinker to finish his measure. Hoping this may be the
correct answer, I remain your constant reader,
EMMA CARMAN.
Other young friends write that, according to some
dictionaries, a tumbler is a drinking-vessel without


a foot; and one grown-up correspondent, curiously
enough, says that a tumbler should be called stum-
bler, for it takes its name from the word stumble,
as it is a glass without a foot," which could only
be set down empty, as it was sure to spill any fluid
left in it.
A little maiden of Birmingham, England, after
explaining that tumblers originally were made
pointed, so writes :

"I really think that ST. NICHOLAS is the nicest magazine that
was ever printed. Miss Alcott deserves a vote of thanks for her de-
lightful 'Spinning-wheel Stories.' I am also very much interested in
' Historic Boys,' and was so pleased to see our Prince Harry of
MIonmouth among the number.
I have in preparation a 'salt tumbler' (such as you described
in July), and I hope it will turn out a success.
I do not see many letters from English girls, but several of my
little friends take your beautiful --'-- -nd love it dearly.
Now, good-bye. With love !i .. Green' and the Little
School-ma'am,' I am, your little friend,
"ADA."

THOSE AGED ANIMALS!

THERE, our time is up for this month, and I
have not shown you, as I intended to do, more of
the many interesting letters that have been com-
ing in ever since I asked for facts from personal
knowledge about the ages of horses and dogs.
But you shall see them some time; and, by the
way, here is something quite appropriate:


PUSSY: "ARE YOU THE LITTLE SCHOOL-MA'AM'S OTHER PET?"


899








897


1884.


FoI BOYS AND GIILnS.


30
DAYS.


I" P
.,

t, 'p.
'*A *\


'I


* 'i: i ^ :





\ii


HARVEST-HOME Harvest-home cried September, bursting in gayly. You have done pretty well,
Mother, after all, have n't you? Seems to me I never before had so many apples and melons to touch
up, and the vines are fairly groaning. I don't know as I shall have purple enough to give all the grapes
a good rich color. I think I ought to be the happiest month of all the twelve; for while my brothers
and sisters work, I only have to reap the fruit of their labors. I suppose I must put the tips of my fingers
on some of the trees, and begin to turn their lovely green to yellow and red; but I leave all I can of that
work to October, who knows more about it than I do. What shall I take hold of first? Shall I call a
little breeze, and bid it shake the apples down? It is time they were falling."
"Yes," said Dame Nature; and don't forget to shine a little on your marigolds; and remember you
are the Midas who turns the pumpkins to pure gold."




PRESERVING-TIME.


SAID Mr. Baldwin Apple
To Mrs. Bartlett Pear:
"You 're growing very plump, Madame,
And also very fair.
"And there is Mrs. Clingstone Peach,
So mellowed by the heat,
Upon my word, she really looks
Quite good enough to eat.
"And all the Misses Crab-apple
Have blushed so rosy red
That very soon the Farmer's wife
To pluck them will be led.
"Just see the Isabellas,
They're growing so apace,
That they really are ... :........
To get purple in the I
" Our happy time is over,
For Mrs. Green Gage Plum


Says she knows unto her sorrow,
Preserving-time has come."
"Yes!" said Mrs. Bartlett Pear,
"Our day is almost o'er,
And soon we shall be smothering
In syrup by the score."
And before the month was ended,
The fruits that looked so fair,
Had vanished from among the leaves,
And the trees were stripped and bare.
They were all of them in pickle,
Or in some dreadful scrape;
"I'm cider! sighed the Apple;
" I 'm jelly cried the Grape.
They were all in jars and bottle%,
Upon the shelf arrayed;
And in their midst poor Mrs. Quince
Was turned to marmalade.


I, -


I 30
:DAys.








THE LETTER-BOX.


[SEPTEMBER,


THE LETTER-BOX.


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


THE Floral Letter printed on pages 890-894 of this number will,
we are sure, interest all flower-lovers among our readers. It is
copied from a genuine letter written by a gentleman to his little
nephew, and though somewhat in the nature of a puzzle, it will be
found to convey in its "flower-language" some excellent hints.
As the flowers represented are nearly all of common varieties, we
think our readers will have no difficulty in deciphering the Floral
Letter, since by substituting the name of each flower for the picture
of it, the sense and meaning will be evident at once. However, for
the benefit of those who may not care to study out the letter for
themselves, we shall print in next month's Letter-box a key to it,
which can then be compared with the original.


PARIS, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am now visiting the beautiful city of
Paris. There are so many things of interest here! I have been to
the Palace of Versailles, which is beautiful; saw the bed which
Louis XIV. died on, and Napoleon's carriage. We also saw a
pretty chAteau which Marie Antoinette built, her chapel, and a tree
which she and Louis XIV. planted. I have also visited the old city
of Rouen, which is very interesting; and I saw the spot where Joan
of Arc was burned at the stake. I have to wait so long before you
come that it seems as if I '11 not receive you. I would like to write
more, but I am afraid I shall not have my letter printed.
Your faithful reader, MADGE M-.



PLIMPTON HOUSE, WATCH HILL, R. I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read in the July number a letter from
Charlie Delany, telling how the Chinese imitated the plate that the
gentleman sent so exactly. When I showed it to my cousin, she
said that some one had told her that a gentleman sent a pair of
pantaloons to a Chinaman to have another pair made like them.
Unfortunately the old pair had a patch in one of the knees, and
when the Chinaman made the new pair, he cut a hole in the same
knee in which it had been in the old pair, and patched it.
Sincerely yours, HELEN E--.


BROOKLYN, July 1, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps some of your readers would like to
hear about a society a friend of mine belongs to. It is called The
Charity Society." The reason they call it "Charity" is because
whenever any member says anything untrue or anything she would
be unwilling to repeat to the person spoken of she is fined one cent,
and when they have a large amount they use it for the benefit of
some poor person. J. L.
J. L.'s account of the "Charity Society" will remind many of our
readers of the story entitled "The S. F. B. P.," printed in our last
number.


17 BAYSWATER TERRACE, LONDON.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have no doubt that some of your
readers have "viper's-grass" in their gardens. It generally flowers
in June or July, and grows best in chalky soil. The seed somewhat
resembles the head of a viper, and it was from this arose the idea that
it was a cure for the bite of that reptile.
I believe it is also known as the Ox-tongue," and in France it
is called the reveille-mati i [" the morning call" or "alarm-clock"].
The other day I read a little legend concerning this flower which I
send you, thinking that perhaps it may interest some of your numer-
ous readers.
One day St. Nicholas met a little maiden weeping bitterly on
her way to school, and touched by the sight of the child's grief, he
stopped her and inquired the cause of her tears. "Why do you cry,
little one?" And the little girl answered, "Because I am late
again this morning for school, and when I get there the teacher will
scold me and say I am lazy, but I. know that it is really not my
fault, for I can not prevent myself from waking up late, much as


I would wish to do so." Upon this, St. Nicholas placed his
hands on the child's golden hair, and said, "Do not weep, you will
not be scolded this morning; for I will put back the hands of the
school-house clock and all the other clocks in the village; but this is
for to-day only. Take this flower, and for the future place it at the
head of your bed and you will wake early every morning." And so
saying, St. Nicholas broke off a branch of the viper's-grass and
gave it to his little friend, and went away. After this the little
girl was never late at school, and it soon became known that she
was always the first to arrive there. On her telling the villagers,
they nicknamed the flower the "morning call." And to this day,
when the villagers of Flanders wish to wake early in the morning,
they place a branch of the "morning call" by their bedsides.
I much enjoy reading your delightful paper, dear ST. NICHOLAS;
and hoping this letter will find a corer in your Letter-box, as it is
the first I have yet written to you, believe me, your admiring reader,
VIOLET M. C-.


CLEVELAND, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never written to you before, but
to-day I thought I would, and ask you a question. We live in a
boarding-house, and a boy rooms just across the hall. The other
day the boy came in and asked me to come and see an experi-
ment" of his; he got his idea from a story in ST. NICHOLAS of a
boy who burnt bark in a tea-kettle to make gas.
He had taken an old glass ink-bottle, filled it with scraps of paper
and bits of wood, and set it on the coals in a grate; soon a sort of
smoke came, which he lighted, and it had been burning nearly half
an hour when I saw it. It went out soon after, and when we took
the bottle from the grate, the bottom was melted out. We filled
another bottle with paper alone, and it burnt, too. Now, was that
gas that came from the mouth of the bottle? If so, what kind, and
how can paper make gas? Your admiring reader,
BLANCHE C. LEGGETT.
P. S.-The paper was not consumed, but burnt after we took the
bottle from the grate.

WHEN any material, be it wood, paper, coal, or anything that will
burn, is exposed to great heat, gases of various kinds are evolved,
and these, if mingled with air, will burn. If the air has access to
the material, the material itself will appear to bur, yet, in reality,
only the gas burns. If the material is inclosed in some vessel, so
that the air can not get to it, and the gases are led away in a pipe,
they will burn, even if quite cold, the moment they meet the air and
a flame. (A good way to try the experiment is to fill the bowl of a
tobacco-pipe with dry sawdust, cover the top of the bowl with clay
or plaster of Paris, and to thrust the bowl of the pipe in the coals of
a fire, and leave the stem projecting from the stove. Soon a yellow
smoke will escape from the pipe, and, if touched with flame, will
burn as a tiny gas flame. On breaking open the bowl of the pipe
the wood will be found reduced to charcoal. The charcoal will
bur, but with a pale flame, showing that a part of the gas has been
extracted. Such an experiment is called "destructive distillation,"
because the gas and some other products are distilled out cf the wood
in a retort, and the wood is destroyed in the process.)


PARIS, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you and tell
you about my dolls and cats. I have a great many of them. I will
tell you their names. My littlest is the baby doll; her name is Mary
Anderson, and I have two more; one is named Queen Victoria.
She is my finest doll, and I have another which is named Emma
Abbot. Then I have two cats, which are named Hamlet and Still
Bill. I am nine years old, and I like your magazine very much.
Yours truly, A. J- .


SAN BERNARDINO, CAL., June 29, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letters from Southern
California in the ST. NICK, so I thought I would write one and see
if it would be printed.
We are having very pleasant weather here, and everything is


900








1884.] THE LETTER-BOX. 901


green and fresh. I think the "Scarlet Tanager" and Marvin and
his Boy Hunters" are just splendid.
Your faithful reader, CLARENCE H. R.



COLLEGE AVE., No. 26.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two girls who think the ST.
NICHOLAS the best magazine to be found, and enjoy every story
in it, but Miss Alcott's most of all. We think her Spinning-
wheel Story" for this month the best one yet; for we both are very
fond of boarding-school stories, and this is made more interesting to
us by the fact that Miss Orne in the story greatly resembles, both
in looks and character, a very dear teacher of our own, which makes
it seem more real; and also, because we go to boarding-school our-
selves, but board at home, which is not nearly so nice. It is very
lonesome here now that school has closed, and as we have never
written a letter to you before, nor seen one in the "Letter-box"
from this part of the country, we thought we would write to you and
would like very much to see this in print.
Your Western friends, HELEN AND MINNIE.


BEDFORD PARK, ENGLAND, June 23.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have two years of my ST. NICHOLAS
bound; one is red and one blue. I like the fairy-stories and poetry
very much.
1 knew a donkey called Sam. He liked apples, but they grew
too high for him; so a tall horse, named Trooper, pulled the boughs
down with his mouth for Sam to pick them. I shall be six next
month, and I shall have a party.
From your friend, HUBERT C--.


WE thank our girl and boy friends, whose names are here given,
for the pleasant letters we have received from them. We would
be glad to publish their letters if there were room. At it is, we
can only acknowledge them by name: Corinne F. Hill, Mertie
M. Reed, Ida G., H. H. C., A. M. N., J. L. S., Lill.an E.
Ostrander, Elizabeth Ailing, Florence C. D., Miriam McGaw,
Louise Joynes, J. C. W., Nellie W., Cherry Wood, Vivia Blair,
Hattie S. Mason, Gertrude Hofford.


AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION-FORTY-FIRST REPORT.


THERE should be a flavor of saltin our report this month, for it is
developing in the sea-side laboratory of the Boston Society of Natural
History, in close companionship with lobsters, crabs, hydroids, sea-
urchins, and star-fish, in view of rolling waves, and amid the whis-
perings of an ocean breeze. A company of earnest students are at
work at the various tables, and among them we note with pleasure
the former secretary of Gloucester, A, Mr. R. S. Tarr.
It may be useful to mention a plan of work, that as followed here
yields the most gratifying results. This is the careful and exhaustive
study of a very few typical forms. One student, for example, has
spent a month of constant study on the lobster, noting carefully its
various parts and characteristics, with the aid of some such book as
Huxley and Martin's Practical Biology, or W. K. Brooks's Hand-
book of Invertebrate Zoblogy. All the parts, as described by these
authors, are found in the specimens in hand, drawn, and carefully
contrasted and compared. Those who have more time carry their
studies deeper, and trace the growth of some animal from the egg
through all its different stages, until the adult form is reached,
making successive drawings and continual notes, and in this way
working up a complete life history of the creature. This kind of
work can be done anywhere, but the marine forms, being larger and,
at the same time, of less complex organization, afford the best ma-
terial for beginners. We advise any of our friends who may have
the opportunity to attend a laboratory, and do practical work under
competent supervision, by no means to let it pass unimproved.
It is with great pleasure that we lay before the A. A. the following
generous offers from Profs. Jordan and Grinnell:

BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA.
DEAR SIR: In ST. NICHOLAS for June, page 661, I notice a call
for a specialist on fish."
I am such a person, and I shall be very glad to answer any ques-
tions on fishes (and reptiles or birds) that any of your young corre-
spondents may ask. Yours very truly,
DAVID S. JORDAN.

39 PARK Row, NEW YORK, June 30, 1884.
DEAR SIR: Your interesting little hand-book of the Agassiz Asso-
ciation has just fallen into my hands. The subject is so interesting,
and the objects of the Association appeal so strongly to every
student of science, that I feel that it is unnecessary for me to apologize
to you for offering my most cordial congratulations to you as the
originator of the grand idea. It must always be a source of the
greatest congratulation to you to feel that you have in this way
helped to broaden out the lives of so many of the children of our
country. And no doubt among those belonging to your association
there will be many who will do good work for science in the years
that are to come. After attentively reading your hand-book, it has
occurred to me that perhaps some one who has a general knowledge of
North American birds mightbe of assistance to some of your members.
General North American ornithology is my specialty, and I should


be happy to identify any specimens that may be sent to me by any
members of the A. A., or to be of service to them in any other way.
Should any of them require help about our birds, pray do not
hesitate to call upon me. Yours respectfully,
GEO. BIRD GRINNELL, Ph. D.

THE CONVENTION.

THE Secretary of the Philadelphia Assembly reports that a very
large number of Chapters have signified their intention of sending a
delegate or delegates to the convention on September 2. Among the
topics that will be discussed in the meeting are: Methods of work;
histories of Chapters; the use of the microscope; practical work in
zoology, conchology, ornithology, and entomology. We gladly in-
sert the following cordial letter of invitation from the Philadelphia
Assembly of the A. A.:
PHILADELPHIA, July 21, 1884.
Although special invitations have been sent to all the Chapters
of the Agassiz Association for the convention to be held in Philadel-
phia this September, we think it well to also extend an invitation
through ST. NICHOLAS.
We therefore cordially invite all members of the Agassiz Associa-
tion to attend the convention, which will be held on September 2d,
3d, and 4th, 1884.
On Tuesday, September 2d, at 8 P. At., a reception will be given
to the members; on Wednesday and Thursday mornings, visits will
be made to the Academy of Natural Sciences and the Zodlogical
Gardens; on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, sessions of the
convention will be held; on Wednesday evening a lecture will be
delivered by Rev. Henry C. McCook, D. D.; and on Thursday
evening a visit will probably be made to the Electrical Exhibition.
Chapters or members of the A. A and other parties are desired to
read at the sessions or send to the Secretary of the Assembly notes
of personal observations or other papers of scientific interest.
Persons unconnected with the A. A. who are interested in its
work are invited to be present at the sessions.
The reception will'be held at 1418 Chestnut street, second floor;
sessions of the convention and Dr. McCook's lecture at Lecture-
Room of Franklin Institute, 15 South Seventh street; hotel accom-
modations for visiting members (at $2.50 per day) at West End
Hotel, 1524 Chestnut street; head-quarters of the convention, on and
after September ist, at West End Hotel. All members are requested
to call at head-quarters as soon as possible after their arrival in the
city, and obtain tickets for the reception, lectures, etc.
A circular giving particulars for obtaining reduced railroad rates
and hotel accommodations has been issued. This has been sent to
all Chapters answering our first circular, and will be mailed to others
upon application. Yours truly,
ROBERT T. TAYLOR,
Sec'y Philadelphia Assembly.
Address communications to P. 0. Box 259, Philadelphia, Pa.

The warm months of summer do not bring the usual decrease in
the number of new Chapters formed.










THE LETTER-BOX. [SanTRoanmo,


NEW CHAPTERS.

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
670 Wright's Grove, Ill......... 4..Myron Hunt (care Miller and
Hunt).
67' Lyndon, Vt.............. 1..Miss Alice E. Hall.
672 Chicago (W) ...............6..Noble M. Eberhart, 16r La
Salle St., Room 75.
673 Milwaukee, Wis. (B) ...... 9..Mrs. F. L. Atkins.
674 Washington, D. C. (I) ..... 5 .Spencer A. Searle.
675 Newport, R.I. (D)......... 4..Henry M. Soonper, 169
Broadway.
676 Burlington, N. J. (B)....... 4..C. P. Smith, Jr., Box 232.
677 Milwaukee, Wis. (C)....... 4..Miss Lizzie Jordan, 142
3d St.
678 Taunton, Mass. (C) ......... 5..Daniel J. Mehegan.
679 De Pere, Wis. (E).... ..... .. Barton L. Parker.
6 Peoria, Ill. (E)............. 4..GustavKleene,2io Fourth St.
681 Garden City, L. I., N. V. (B( 5..C. W. Clark.
68 Philadelphia, Pa. (W) ...... 5..James E. Brooks, 1865North
24th St.
683 Louisville, Ky. (C)......... 4..Will C. Cope, i818 Barret
Ave.
REORGANIZED.

346 Toronto, Canada (A)........ 7..David Howell, 57 Glouces-
ter St.
DISSOLVED.
144 Mt. Vernon, N.Y.
NOTES.

115. Frogs raining down.-The phenomenonis thus explained by
Prof. Wood, in "Common Objects of the Country": The frog
showers, of which we so often hear, are occasioned, not by the
actual descent of frogs from the clouds, but, probably, from the genial"
influence of the moisture on the young frogs that have been already
hatched and developed, and have been biding their time before
daring to venture abroad.
II6. A ttacs cynthia. -In answer to "X," A tacus cynthia is
a moth of the A ttacus group of the family Leidoptera. It is more
properly called Samia cynthia. The cocoon of this moth is used for
the manufacture of silk, which is of good quality. The moth can
be raised in this country in the open air. It feeds on the ailantus.
J. R. Boardman, Augusta, Me.
117. Bohemian chatterer.--Hearing the note of a Bohemian
chatterer, I determined, if possible, to find out what it was doing
away from its companions. It soon flew from the tree on which it.
had alighted, and before long a whole flock of the birds came to the
same tree and began eating the berries. This seems to show that
the birds, having nearly stripped one tree of its fruit, had sent this
bird to find a new feeding-place.- Chas. Keeler.
az8. Cow-bird.- In ST. NICHOLAS for Marchis a communication
from a member of the A. A., stating that four eggs of the cow-bird
were found in a nest of the wood-thrush, and asking if any parallel
case has been noted. In the summer of r88r, I found a yellow
warbler's nest of six eggs, two of the warbler and four of the cow-
bird. I took the nest. About two weeks later I found another
nest of the warbler, not ten feet from the first one. In it were two
eggs of the cow-bird and one of the warbler. I took only the
former. A few days later I found another cow-bird's egg in the
same nest, and removed it. The next time I obtained two more.
It was becoming interesting. Next day, to my surprise, I found
the nest empty, and much torn. The warbler's eggs were on the
ground beneath it, and each one had a hole picked in it. I concluded
that the cow-bird had avenged her wrongs.- H. H. Birney, Beth-
lehem, Pa.
-z9. Promethea.-The A tacus fromethea (Harris), or Callos-
mia Promethea (Saunders), is the most common of the large moths
here. Its cocoons are found in numbers on magnolia-trees in gar-
dens. I wish that members of the A. A. in different places would
tell us how the number of these moths compares with that of others,
like the Polylhenzms and Cecropia, for example.- C. M. Hewins,
Hartford, Conn.
120. Slate.-While exploring a slate ledge for pyrites, I found a
place where the slate seemed to have undergone a curious change.
Pieces could be broken off in the same rectangular form as usual;
but instead of being hard and brittle, it was very soft and slightly
moist. Will some one tell me if this decomposition of slate is a
common occurrence, as I can not find any mention of itin my min-
eralogy. I have specimens of it to exchange for labeled fossils.- R.
W. Wood, Jr., Jamaica Plain, Mass.
I21. Danais.- I have found Danais archippus on locust. There
were no milkweeds anywhere near that the larve could have
crawled from before changing to the chrysalis. Can any one tell me
where to send for Morris's Synopsis of the Lepidoptera of N. A.,"
issued by the Smithsonian Inst.? E. H. Pierce, Auburn, N. Y.
122. What is it?--I am too young to belong to the A. A., but I
like to watch bugs and insects: I can print quite well, but I get
Papa to write what I want to tell and ask you. I found on a leaf
of a morning-glory a little winged bug, shaped like the common


lady-bug. It was of the most brilliant gold color, looking like a
drop of pure gold. The tips of its feet were like Etruscan gold.
Around the border of its back, overlapping the body, was a thin
film that looked like glass. Around its sides there seemed to be a
row of beading, or little dents into the golden edge. I put it into a
clear glass bottle. After little time its color began to change untilit
was a dark brick red, with three black spots on each wing. I then
got aleaf like the one on which I had found it, and putitinto the bottle.
It immediately crawled on it, and soon its color changed back to the
bright gold. The black spots went away. Is this a lady-bug?
Margie T. Kitchel, Hamilton, Texas.
123. Cecropia.--I have found out why the cocoons of Atlacus
cecrafia often have slits in the side. The sapsucker makes them in
order to reach the fiupf, which it eats. I happened to catch him at
it.- Bradley M. Davis.
124. Crows.- One fact that struck me particularly was that their
leader was larger than the others, and seemed to have greater power
of flight. He generally kept at the head of the flock, but once he
turned, and soaring above the rest flew to the rear; then turning
back, he out-flew the others, and again reached the head of the
moving company.-L. M. H.
125. M2usk-rat.-We saw a musk-rat go through a hole in the
ice, and soon return with a clam. It pried the shell open, and ate
the clam. It did this about ten times in succession. Once it got
one too big to open, and threw it back into the water.- W. M. Clute.
126. Cricket.-While walking one day, I came across one cricket
burying another. I removed it about three feet from the dead one,
but it came directly back. Is it common for crickets to bury each
other ?- W, H. White, St Johnland, N. Y.
127. Evening primrose.-I have had an opportunity of seeing
this month some evening primroses-curious flowers that open at
twilight. They unfolded in a series of jerks, and the great yellow
flower gave off a strong perfume, that seemed intoxicating to a
number of humming-bird moths that hovered about, and let
themselves be easily caught in the hand. After dark I passed by
again, and found the uncanny flowers plainly swaying about in the
darkness, while all about them were perfectly still. Of course I
should have examined the way they were attached, but I am sorry
to say that I did not.- C.
128. [In answer to the question, What causes, and what is, the
blue part of the flame next to the gas-jet?" It is the reducing
flame, and in it the carbon and hydrogen of the flame are in high
state of ignition, and are inclosed from the atmosphere by the sur-
rounding flame.]

EXCHANGES.

Water-snails, petrified moss, and fossil shells.- Barton L. Parker,
De Pere, Wis.
Birds' eggs.-H. W. Davis, North Granville, N. Y., and W. V.
Abell, Easthampton, Ct.
Cotton-plant with cotton-moth, for iron or sea-weed.- R. S. Cross,
West Point, Mississippi.
Garnets, clays, and marble, for eggs and minerals of the West.
-D. W. Rice, Brandon, Vt.
Minerals and insects, for eggs and silk-worm eggs.- Carleton
Gilbert, xx6 Wildwood Ave., Jackson, Mich.
Birds' eggs.- Harry U. Bailey, Princeton, Illinois.
Caddis-fly cases. Write first. Harry B. Hinnan, Chase's Lake,
Lewis Co., N. Y.
Drawings of moths, butterflies, etc.-W. E. Watts, 3346
Morgan St., St. Louis, Mo.
Missouri granite. Write first. Frank M. Davis, 3857 Washing-
ton Ave., St. Louis, Mo.
Correspondence with distant Chapters, with a view to exchanges.
Max Greenbaum, Sec. Ch. 654, 433 Franklin St., Phila. Pa.

QUERIES.

What causes the light in a fire-fly?
What is the largest flower in the world ?- Sec. 6ox.

A large number of interesting Chapter reports must go over until
next month. We must, however, insert this one:

REPORT OF THE ROSEVILLE AGASSIZ CHAPTER, June 24, 1884.
Although it is a long time since our club has sent a report, it
has been struggling on and doing some work. We have notaccom-
plished all we had hoped to do, but our number has increased to
thirty-two members. We have a regular place of meeting, have had
many new contributions to our cabinet, have purchased a Polyopticon,
the latest edition of "Chambers's Encyclopedia," with cuts and en-
gravings, and have formed the nucleus for a circulating library.
Besides our regular fortnightly meetings, we have had two lectures
and a very fine microscopic exhibition, with a lecture on the laws
of light.-SaraDorrach, Sec.

Address all communications to the president,
HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


THE LETTER-BOX.


[SEPTEMBER,








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


DIAMOND.

i. A consonant. 2. A chariot of war. 3. A thin board upon
which a picture is painted. 4. A species of lynx. 5. Extravagant
in opinions. 6. Repeated. 7. Plaited strings. 8. A boy. 9. A
consonant. "LYON HART."
ANAGRAMS.
THE works of a famous English .
novelist: ''
x. Ohi Vane. '
2. The Kirn Owl.
3. Art in the Quay.
4. Leon Huett's Offering. ." -
5. Dolly Ottarim. 4 '
6. Rutlend Gate. '
7. The Tar's Money. DAISY.

ZIGZAG. t
EACH of the words described ---
contains six letters. The zigzag
begins at the upper left-hand cor-
ner and names a famous stone.
The first letter of the fifth word, the sixth letter of the seventh word,
the first letter of the ninth word, and the first and fourth letters of
the twelfth word will spell the name of the country from which it came.
CROSS-WORDS: i. A famous Egyptian pyramid. 2. Not singular.
3. A wind. 4. Sullen. 5. A division of the globe. '.
riddle. 7. Hatred. 8. A bird which is often kept f .
pet. 9. Freely. 10. Sacred songs. I. A halo. .
An instrument for pounding substances in a mon .
13. Corrects. 14. A seat to be placed on a horse's ba :I
x5- A puzzle. 16. Injury. ALCIBIADES.'
PI. ..
SPOUSEP file noted sleep oyu '
Orn het ayw mose opleep od,- ',
Od ouy ktinh eth lowhe raticone
Liwl eb dreatle stuj orf ouy? I
Nad stin ti, ym oby ro lirg,
Eth tinces, stabvre lanp,
Teavrhew secom ro nestdo moce
Ot od eth sebt oyu nac?
FRANK.

CUBE.




4 5



6...7
6 . 7
THE same letter may replace every figure in the diagram.
From 2 to 3, the last part of an ode; from 4 to 5, to evade; from
6 to 7, a rapacious bird; from 3 to 5, a margin; from 2 to 4, a
lake of North America; from i to 6, pertaining to the ancient
inhabitants of Scotland; from 4 to 6, to invest; from 5 to 7, to oblit-
erate; from 2 to I, to run away. DYCIE.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
PRIMALS: How many perished on this famous field,
FINALs: That this proud despot might be forced to yield./
CROSS-WORDS:
i. This god in Scandinavian myth we find,
And one day of the week keeps him in mind.
2. The Taj Mahal we in this city see,
A wonder of the world, as all agree.

3. The prudent Dutchman, in the days of yore,
On this gay blossom squandered all his store.

4. This nymph in rocks, in caves or hills we seek;
We never see her, but we hear her speak.


5. Greatest of painters! glorious was his fame!
He early died, but left a deathless name.
6. This gallant Frenchman, noble, young, and brave,
Gave us his help, our liberties to save.

7. In Arden's pleasant wood he found his joy,-
His lady-love disguised as shepherd-boy.

I : .'I -' r' "', e never will be forlorn,-
-t i i .-, '.',.Il) said, "Alas, was gone!"
B.


REBUS.

THE answer to the above rebus is one of "Poor Richard's" max-
ims, addressed to those who are inclined to be too venturesome.
HALF-SQUARE.
i. A fugitive. 2. Harmony. 3. A cavity. 4. Of a whitlsh-gray
color. 5. Deep dejection. 6. A useful article. 7. In Assyrian.
GEORGE F. S.
DOUBLE DIAGONALS.
THE diagonals (reading downward) from left to right form a word
meaning pertaining to a common metal; from right to left, a word
meaning pertaining to a valuable metal.
CROSS-WORDS: i. Affectionate. 2. Any phenomenon in the
atmosphere. 3. Loyalty. 4. Wet and miry. 5. Yeast. 6. A
people. SUMMER BOARDER."


884.1








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


HOUR-GLASS.

THE central letters, read downward, will spell the name of a
Shakespearean hero.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A learned man. 2. To take captive. 3. A
pronoun. 4. In summer. 5. To employ with diligence. 6. Mild.
7. To write on the back of. EMMA AND ADA.

"TEA" PUZZLE.






--









IF tea is not ready, when you call in response to an invitation to
tea, what ought you to do ? The problem is to decipher the answer
given in the foregoing illustration. G. w. B.

WORD SYNCOPATIONS.

EXAMPLE: Syncopate a small boy from an illness, and leave a
month of blossoms. ANSWER: Ma-lad-y.
I. Syncopate to bind from a person under medical treatment, and
leave to gasp. 2. Syncopate a pronoun from in what place, and
leave a pronoun. 3. Syncopate a part of the head from closest, and
leave a certain habitation. 4. Syncopate an offer from prohibiting,


and leave wading. 5. Syncopate an article of food from entreated,
and leave the bottom of a stream. 6. Syncopate amount from
recommended, and leave a pastoral pipe.
The initial letters of the syncopated words spell the name of the
capital of Bceotia, in ancient Greece. BELLE.

TRIANGLE.

2 9
3 to
4 I
5 12
6 13
7 14
8 15
I. Infringe; 2, 9, a note in music; from 3 to to, cunning; from
4 to nr, a rapid outflowing; 5 to 2s, a Shakespearean hero; from 6
to 13, to declare positively; from 7 to 14, a person designated by
another; from 8 to 15, afflicted; from i to 8, atrocious; from I to 15,
penetrated. F. s. F.
PROGRESSIVE DIAMONDS.


12 3
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
3 4 5 6 7
5 6 7
7
I. 1. IN opened. 2. A cade lamb. 3. Part of a flower. 4. Hav-
ing petals. 5. A kind of habit worn by the Jews. 6. Conducted.
7. In opened.
II. i. In opened. 2. A step. 3. Dough. .4. Part of a horse's
leg. 5. Austere. 6. The name by which the sea-eagle, or osprey, is
known in Scotland. 7. In opened. "REX FORD."


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER.

HIDDEN FISHES. I. Shad. 2. Mackerel. 3. Whale. 4. Hake. OCTAGONS. I. I. Tar. 2. Urged. 3. Trailer. 4. Agitate. 5.
5. Blue. 6. Sword. 7. Mussel. 8. Cat. 9. Pike. 10. Dog. oI. Related. 6. Deter. 7. Red. II. i. Cap. 2. Lares. 3. Cantata.
Oyster. 12. Clam. 13. Haddock. 14. Grayling. 15. Bream. 4. Artisan. 5. Peasant. 6. Stand. 7. Ant.
16. Rudd. 17. Chubb. 18. Carp. x9. Roach. 20. Perch. 21. NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
Smelt. 22. Trout. 23. Cod. 24. Shark. 25. Pickerel. 26. How empty learning, and how vain is art,
Scup. 27. Salmon. 28. Bass. 29. Tench. 30. Eel. 31. Por- But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!"
poise. 32. Dace. ARROW-HEAD. Across: I. Alder. 2. Aulic. 3. Copal. 4. Taper.
AN EXTRACT FROM IZAAK WALTON. "As no man is born an 5. Helen.
artist, so no man is born an angler." REBUS. The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
RIDDLE. Oliver (Cromwell). Oil, ire, ore, lie, roe, roe, roi, vie, All on a summer's day.
rove, role, over, rive, Riel, love, viol, Veil, evil, olive, liver, live, Eli, METAMORPHOSES. I. Black, clack, crack, crock, crook, croon,
Levi, Loire. crown, brown. 2. Rome, rope, pope, pore, pork, York. 3. Basle,
PI. If we had no faults, we should take no pleasure in remark- baste, caste, casts, carts, parts, Paris. 4. Homer, homes, hones,
ing those of others; if we had no pride, we should not perceive it in bones, bores, bares, barns, Bums. 5. Bear, bean, lean, Leon, lion.
another." ROCHEFOUCAULD. 6. Bird, bind, bend, bent, best, nest. 7. Give, gave, cave, cake,
COMBINATION PUZZLE. I. Mares, smear, arms. 2, Large, lager, take. 8. Cold, hold, held, head, heat. 9. Rise, rile, file, fill, fall.
real. 3. Maple, ample, male. 4. Dales, leads, sled. Syncopated CHARADE. Barbarian.
letters, transposed, page. NOVEL ACROSTIC. Second row of letters, Parthenon; fourth row,
WORD-SQUARE. I. Depart. 2. Editor. 3. Pintle. 4. Attila. 5. Colosseum. Cross-words: i. aPaCe. 2. cAnOn. 3. dRiLl. 4.
Rolled. 6 Treads. sToOp. 5. cHeSt 6. dEnSe. 7. sNeEr. 8. fOrUm. 9. eNeMy.

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 PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the August number, from Bella and Cora
Wehl, Frankfort, Germany, 7-" Three Sunflowers," London, England, 2--No Name, 7-Francis W. Islip, Leicester, England, io-
Willie Sheraton, 6-" Eggs," London, England, xx.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 20, from Maggie T. Turrill- Frederick Winthrop
Faxon -" Shumway Hen and Chickens."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 2o, from Sam and Alice, -P. Bayard Veiller, 2- Mary K.
Jennings, x-"Navajo," 5-" Spider and Fly," 4-D. Sargent, -Inez T. Dale, 6-A. and B., 3-Florence E., i-May Bradley, i-
Fred. S. Kersey, 2- E. S. B., Jr., Paul Reese, 8 Lillie Fleetwood, I Mattie Fleetwood, r-" Man in the Moon," 4 Tallac, 3 -
J. L., I -Tillie Mosley, I- Helen DuBarry, Lillian E. Ostrander, --E. M. Lewis and J. B. Hodgskin, 6-Effie K. Talboys, 5--
Chester Aldrich, 6.--Kitty Clover, x--Helen W. Gardner, I-"Two Jerseys," 6-Anna D. Mills, i-R. H., Uncle George, and
Mamma, 2-Gertrude and Bessie, 3- "Pepper and Maria," Ix-Vivia Blair, -Cabell Chadwick, i- "Kansas Boy," 2 -Dycie, 7-
Emma G. Cosgrave, 7-Alice T. Palfrey, Mouche and Mere," 9-Arthur E. Hyde, 5-Mary P. Stockett, no-Sadie and Bessie
Rhodes, 7-Johnny Duck, Ir-Frank Smyth, 3-Jessie A. Platt, z -Hattie Clara, and Mamma, nr-"Unknown to History," 5-
Alex. Laidlaw, 7-Cora and Nettle, i-George Habenicht, Grace and Percy Owen, 7-Bertie, 3-Mary, Effie, and James Lamb,
i-Louise M. Lorey, i-Bessie A. Jackson, 4-E. Muriel Grundy, 9-Charles H. Kyte, xx-No Name, 9-"B. Kelly," 4-Hattie,
Daisy, and Auntie, 4- G. C. T., 3- Olive, Ida, Lillie, and Aunt Angle, 5-Lillian and Logere, 4- Francis W. Islip, ro-"Puss in
Boots," 8 Emily Danzel, i Hugh and Cis, io- Willie B. La Bar, 3 Harry Tremaine, i Katie Orr, 7.


904


[SEPTEMBER,