Front Cover
 The tricycle of the future
 Driven back to Eden
 In primrose time
 Little Britomartis
 His one fault
 The children of the cold
 From Bach to Wagner
 The brownies and the spinning-...
 "Myself, or another?"
 What Joe and Jean saw at the New...
 Among the lawmakers
 Little Penelope's sewing
 A sympathetic time-piece
 Work and play for young folk: A...
 Helen's friends
 A finger play
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association - Fiftieth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00157
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate 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
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
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
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00157
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
 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
    The tricycle of the future
        Page 481
        Page 482
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
    Driven back to Eden
        Page 490
        Page 491
        Page 492
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
    In primrose time
        Page 497
        Page 498
    Little Britomartis
        Page 499
        Page 500
    His one fault
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
        Page 507
        Page 508
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
        Page 512
    The children of the cold
        Page 513
        Page 514
        Page 515
        Page 516
        Page 517
    From Bach to Wagner
        Page 518
        Page 519
        Page 520
    The brownies and the spinning-wheel
        Page 521
        Page 522
        Page 523
        Page 524
        Page 525 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 526
        Page 527
        Page 528
    "Myself, or another?"
        Page 529
        Page 530
        Page 531
    What Joe and Jean saw at the New Orleans exposition
        Page 532
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
        Page 536
    Among the lawmakers
        Page 537
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
    Little Penelope's sewing
        Page 541
    A sympathetic time-piece
        Page 542
    Work and play for young folk: A house of string
        Page 543
        Page 544
        Page 545
        Page 546
        Page 547
        Page 548
        Page 549
        Page 550
        Page 551
    Helen's friends
        Page 552
    A finger play
        Page 553
    The letter-box
        Page 554
        Page 555
    The Agassiz association - Fiftieth report
        Page 556
        Page 557
    The riddle-box
        Page 558
        Page 559
        Page 560
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



VOL. XII. MAY, 1885. No. 7.

[Copyright, 1885, by THE CENTURY CO.]



FRED HUMPHREYS was a boy of an original
mind; that is to say, he was very fond of thinking
for himself and doing things of which he had
never either heard or read. This may or may
not be a good disposition in a boy. It depends
altogether upon what kind of a boy he is. If he
mixes a great deal of reason with his original think-
ing,- if he is able to see when he has made a mis-
take, and is willing to acknowledge it,- and if he
is of a prudent turn of mind, and is not willing to
dive into a new enterprise until he knows how deep
it is and whether or not the current is too strong
for him, it may be very well for him to do his
own thinking. But if he does not possess these
requisites, it would be better, until he is older, to
let some one else attend to this matter for him.
Fred was an only son, and his father was desir-
ous that he should find out as much as possible for
himself during his boyhood. He was to be a
business man, and would probably have a great
many ups and downs in the course of his life; and
Mr. Humphreys had an idea that if his son could
get through with some of the "downs" duringhis
minority, the experience he would thereby gain
would prevent his having just as many of them in
after life, when they would be much more im-
When the bicycle came into use in this country,
Fred Humphreys was one of the first boys who
had one. When an improved form of the machine
was invented, Fred sold his old one, and his father
added money enough to what he received to buy
VOL. XII.-31.

one of the new kind. This change from good to
better occurred several times; and when the tricy-
cle came before the public, Fred gave up his last
bicycle, and bought one of the three-wheeled
machines, and, after using this for some months,
he disposed of it and became the possessor of a
first-class double tricycle, that would carry two
persons. Sometimes with his sister, and some-
times with a boy friend, Fred made excursions in
this tricycle through the country round about the
town in which he lived.
This town was situated in the interior of one
of our Northern States. It was much frequented
in the summer-time as a watering-place, and
some of the roads leading to hotels and places of
popular resort in the neighborhood were unusually
smooth and well made, and, therefore, admirably
adapted to bicycles and tricycles. On these fine
roads Fred and his machine soon became almost
as well known as were the famous "tally-hos," with
four or six horses, which in the season made reg-
ular trips between the town and various pleasant
spots in the surrounding country.
But, much as Fred enjoyed his tricycle, he be-
came convinced in time that there might be some-
thing better; and as nothing better had, as yet,
been invented by anyone else, he determined, if pos-
sible, to invent it himself. The idea which gradu-
ally developed itself in his mind was this: If a boy
can pull a vehicle, say a tricycle, at the rate of a
certain number of miles per hour, and with an
amount of exertion which he can keep up for a

_Y_/ N4


certain time, and if that boy, by getting into that
tricycle, and working it with his legs, can propel
it at a far greater rate of speed and can keep up
the exercise for a much longer time than when he
was pulling it-then it must follow that if a horse,
which pulls a vehicle of any kind, could get inside
that vehicle and work it with its legs, it could
propel it at a much higher rate of speed than
when it was dragging it along the ground. And
if one horse, why not two, or four? Why should
there not be a great tally-ho coach, with six horses
working tread-mills on the lower story, while
crowds of passengers sat above enjoying the rapid
and exhilarating excursion? This last idea came
into Fred's mind as a picture of the Great Tricycle
of the Future. How proud and happy he would
be to build and own a machine of this kind!
He would sit in front with his hand upon the
steering gear, while six fine horses steadily trod
the propelling arrangement behind him, eating, as
they worked, from mangers under their noses;
while the ladies and gentlemen who used to crowd
the old tally-hos would sit comfortably on the
second story, and never tire of telling one another
how much better this was than the comparatively
slow trips they used to take in the ordinary coaches
and carriages.
After thinking over this matter for about a week,
and making a good many plans and drawings, Fred
determined to try to carry out his invention. He
did not set out to build at first a machine for six
horses and two or three coach-loads of passengers;
I but he would attempt to make something much
more modest, although constructed upon the great
principle that it would be better for the horse to
be inside the vehicle and propel both it and him-
self than to stay outside and pull it. If the com-
paratively simple contrivance which he proposed
to make should work satisfactorily, then it would
be easy enough to get sufficient capital to build the
grand machine (with driving-wheels twenty feet
high and a six-horse team to work it), which, in
his mind, he called the Tricycle of the Future.
When he laid his plans and his schemes before
his father, Mr. Humphreys considered them very
carefully. He had not much faith in Fred's grand
scheme of the two-storied tricycle with six horses,
but he thought that something on a smaller scale
might succeed. He agreed with his son that ex-.
periments with dogs or goats, which Fred had first
thought of, would be a loss of time and labor, be-
cause it would be so much trouble to teach these
animals to act properly; whereas, an ordinary horse
was already trained sufficiently for the purpose.
Besides, a dog or goat machine, in Fred's eyes,
would appear like a mere plaything, and would
not attract the attention of capitalists; but one

worked by horses, however rough it might be,
would show at once what could actually be done.
Having received his father's consent and 'the
promise of a moderate amount of money for his
expenses,-for Mr. Humphreyswas arich man, and
very generous toward his son,- Fred went to work
upon the machine, which was intended to show the
principle of his invention. It would be a rough
affair, but if it worked properly, its crudity would
not matter; all he wished was to show that the
thing could be done. For the building of his ma-
chine Fred employed a man who was both a car-
penter and a blacksmith; and as he himself was
very handy with tools, and this was summer holiday
time, he worked nearly all day and was of great
help in finishing the thing.
When all was done, the new vehicle was indeed
a curious affair, and attracted a great deal of atten-
tion, especially from Fred's boy friends. It con-
sisted of a strong frame-work, or floor, at the back
of which was a pair of enormous wheels, which had
been made for a truck used for hauling great
stones and slabs of marble. These were the driv-
ing-wheels, and in front was a small but strong
wheel, which was turned by a tiller, like the helm
of a ship; and with this the vehicle was steered.
Between the driving-wheels was set up a machine
known in some parts of the country as a double-
horse-power," and which is used by many farmers
to give motive power to various kinds of agricult-
ural machines. It consists, in the first place, of an
inclined floor of slats which moves like an endless
chain; and when a horse walks on this the animal re-
mains where he is, but the floor moves, and contin-
ually passing from under him and going down to the
lower part of the machine, comes up again in front
of him. This motion of the floor turns various cog-
wheels under it, and a very rapid motion is commu-
nicated from them to the machine which is to be
worked. The horses are penned in by a low
fence, and all they have to do is to walk or tread
steadily on, along the moving floor. Some of these
" horse-powers" are for one horse and some for
two; and Fred had hired a double one from a
farmer who lived not far away. This machine was
connected with the driving-wheels of his tricycle,
and, when horses were put into it and started, the
great wheels would be turned, the vehicle would
move forward, and the Tricyclism of the Future
would begin.
There were no accommodations for passengers;
all that could come afterward. What Fred wanted
to show was that a tricycle could be run by horse-
power as well as by man or boy power, the horses
being carried along just as the man or boy is car-
ried along. In front was a seat for the steersman,
who was to be Fred himself, and in the extreme





rear was a small platform for his assistant, whose
duty it would be to attend to the brakes and to
stop the "horse-power," when necessary, so that
the floor on which the horses stood should become
A great many opinions were expressed in regard
to this new vehicle. Men generally laughed at it;
some of the boys thought it would work, while
others thought it would not. Among the latter
was one, small for his age but old for his years,
who was generally known as "Putty" Morris,-
this name having been given to him by his com-
panions on account of his having a complexion the
color of which was not unlike that of ordinary putty.

I don't want with me any boy who is a pessi-
mist," continued Fred.
What 's that? asked Putty.
"Why, that's a fellow who 's always thinking
that everything is certain to go wrong. Now, I like
optimists, who believe that things are sure to go
right; that is, as long as there 's any chance for 'em.
Everybody who ever did anything great in this
world was an optimist; for, of course, he would n't
keep hammering at, or fighting out anything if
he did n't think it would succeed. Don't you see
that? "
"Of course," said Putty, "if a fellow really
thought a thing would work, and wanted it to work,


This youth did not believe in the new tricycle at
all. Everything was too heavy and lumbering, he
said, and if Fred ever did succeed in setting it
going, it would be a very difficult machine to con-
trol, and there was certain to be some sort of a
"Now, look here, Putty," said Fred, taking him
to one side and speaking to him in a manner
which he intended should be of service to the
youngster, "I've been thinking of asking you to
be my assistant; but I wish you to know that I
am not going to do it now."
All right! said Putty.

he 'd better be an optimist; but if he thought
the other way about it, why, I think the more he
pessimed the better."
"Goodness!" said Fred, laughing. "If you
twisted my machinery as badly as you twist the
English language, you 'd spoil everything for me
very soon."
A boy who believed in the new machine, and
who was willing to act in the position of brake-
man and general assistant, was found in the person
of Johnny Hammond, a stout fellow of sixteen,
who was always ready for anything of a novel or
lively character.



Nothing now remained but to secure the work-
ing power, that is to say, the horses. Fred had
hoped that his father would let him have the car-
riage-horses, but to this Mr. Humphreys objected;
he did not wish them used for that sort of work.
He had, however, a steady brown mare, named
Jenny, who was often employed in farm-work, and
was accustomed to a horse-power," and he told
Fred that he was welcome to use this animal for his
experiment. After some trouble, for horses were
much needed by their owners at that time of the
year, Fred hired from a farmer an elderly animal
known as Glaucus, which had once been, according
to tradition, a very fine and spirited horse, but had
now settled down into the soberness and placidity
of age. Glaucus was tall and bony and not anx-
ious to work, but he had weight and strength, and
these are important points in a beast which is to
work a "horse-power." These two horses did not
make quite so good a team as Fred had hoped to
have, but, as he said, they did very well to begin with.
It was determined that the trial trip should take
place early in the forenoon, before there were
many carriages and vehicles on the road, and they
did not make any general announcement of the mat-
ter, as both Fred and his father thought it would be
better to have as few spectators as possible at this
first experiment of the running of the machine.
If it succeeded, then every one who chose could
see it work.
In spite of their precautions, however, quite
a crowd of boys assembled to see the horse-
tricycle start, and Mr. Humphreys and the man
who made the machine were also there. Heavy
planks with cross-slats nailed on them were laid
from the back of the vehicle to the ground, and
up these the horses were .led, and placed in the
two divisions of the "horse-power." The bars
were put up behind them, and each horse was tied
by its halter to the front rails. The gate of the yard
in which the machine had been built was opened;
Fred climbed up in front and took the tiller, Johnny
Hammond mounted the rear platform, and all
was ready.
"Take. off the brakes, and start the horses !"
cried Fred.
-Whereupon, Johnny released the big wheels
from the pressure of the brakes, and then moved
the lever which gave play to the machinery of the
"horse-power," at the same time starting the
horses into a walk. Around went the moving
floor on which the horses stood; around and
around went the two driving-wheels, and the
tricycle was off !
At first it moved very slowly, as was to have been
expected, for the ground in the yard was rough;
but when Fred had safely steered through the

gate, and the tricycle was on the hard, smooth road,
it began to go along much more easily. Mr.
Humphreys and the man walked by the side of it,
greatly pleased with the success of the experiment,
while the boys surrounded it on all sides, some
cheering and some chaffing; for, although it
moved along very well, it certainly was an odd af-
fair to look at. They were in the suburbs of the
town, but a great many people stopped to gaze at
the horse tricycle, and very soon Fred determined
to let every one see that his new vehicle could go
at a much faster speed than a walk. The machine
was a heavy one, and rather awkward and clumsy
in its appearance, but the wheels turned easily on
their axles, which were well oiled, while the machin-
ery which connected the "horse-power with the
driving-wheels was simple and worked smoothly.
Therefore, although he could make no such speed
as he expected to give to the great Tricycle of the
Future, Fred felt sure he could go along at a pretty
fair rate, and ordered Johnny Hammond to make
the horses trot. Johnny therefore touched up
Jenny and Glaucus, and, after some unwilling-
ness, they broke into a trot, and the tricycle began
to move over the road at a very creditable speed.
Mr. Humphreys and the mechanic soon ceased to
follow; and although theboys ran after the machine
for some distance, they dropped off, one by one.
A few of them tried to climb up behind and enjoy
a free ride, but this the sturdy Johnny Hammond
would not allow.
Fred steered his tricycle into a wide and hand-
some road which led to a much-frequented hotel
standing on the shore of the lake, about four miles
from town. The boy was flushed and happy.
The experiment was a success, and he was going
along as fast as a horse at an ordinary trot. If he
could do so much with a home-made affair like
this, what could not be accomplished with a vast
machine for six horses, which shouldbe as light and
strong and as perfect in all its parts as the finest
bicycle or tricycle in the world? Johnny Ham-
mond, too, was in high spirits, and he continually
shouted to Fred his approbation of the working of
his gay old machine." 'The only individual on
the big tricycle that seemed to be discontented was
Glaucus. He had never been in the habit of
going so fast-on the "horse-power," and besides,
there was something in the manner of his progres-
sion along the road which seemed to disturb his
mind. He tossed up his head, the fire of his
youth came into his eyes, and from trotting he be-
gan to canter. Johnny's shouts did not moderate
his pace, and Jenny, feeling that she must do as
Glaucus did, also broke into acanter. Fred shouted
to put on the brakes and stop the horses; 'but th;,
Johnny found to be no easy job. The "horse-




power" was going with such force and rapidity
that the regulating apparatus could not work, and
the brakes seemed to take but little hold upon the
driving-wheels. Then he climbed ip by the side
of Glaucus, and, seizing him by the halter, tried
to moderate his speed; but he found that the
horse was thoroughly frightened and that he could
do nothing with him. The spirit of Jenny, too,
was now aroused, and she seemed to be trying to
get out of this scrape by running as fast as she
could. Fred could do nothing to help, for, if he
let go of the tiller for a moment, the steering-
wheel would turn round, and the great tricycle
would be dashed to one side and be upset and
wrecked in an instant.
Fred mentally noted the fact that in a properly
constructed machine of this sort, there would need
to be some way of throwing the driving-wheels
" out of gear," so that there would be no connec-
tion between them and the "horse-power." In
that case the vehicle could be stopped, no matter
how fast the horses were going.
Johnny now again put his whole weight on
the brakes of the driving-wheels, but he found this
was of no use.
The fact that the road began to slope gently
before them, so that they were really going down-
hill, made matters all the worse, and the panic
which seemed to possess the two horses now
extended to Johnny Hammond, who, shouting
to Fred to save himself while he could, promptly
jumped off behind.
Fred was pale and frightened, but he did not
jump off. He knew that if he did, the tricycle
would upset, and the horses would probably be
killed; and, besides, he knew well that it would be
a very dangerous thing to jump off in front of
those great driving-wheels. All that he could do
was to stay at his post, and hope that the horses
would soon tire themselves out.
The two animals were now working the horse-
power" at a furious rate; the few people in the
road stood in amazement or ran after the machine
as it passed, while carriages and wagons gave the
on-coming tricycle, with its rattling and its bang-
ing and its bounding horses, a wide berth.
Fredwas now nearing the hotel by the lake. The
broad road led directly to the water, but on one
side it branched off into a narrower drive which ran
along the shore. It was Fred's intention to turn into
this road, because his only safety seemed to be to
go as far as he could, and so tire out the horses.
But he was dashing on so fast that he made a mis-
calculation; when he reached the turning-point,
he did not move his tiller quickly enough, and so
lost his chance of running upon the lake road.
Now, before him, at a very short distance, lay the

lake, and on its edge, directly in front of him, was
a row of sheds for the accommodation of the horses
and carriages of the visitors to the hotel. Fred's
first thought was to steer directly into these sheds,
and so stop the mad career of his tricycle; but this
would result in a general smash-up, and, as he was
in front of everything, he would probably be killed.
He did not dare to jump off, as he would have to
jump directly in front of the big driving-wheels.
There seemed nothing for him to do but to steer
into the lake. If this had to be done, the deeper
the water into which he plunged the better; and
with this idea in his mind, he deftly guided his
machine past the sheds, and toward a pier which
extended a short distance into the lake. Thunder-
ing upon the plank floor came the great tricycle,
and in the next instant it had gone off the end of
the pier and down into the water.
There was a huge splash; there were shouts
from the hotel and from the road; a fountain of
spray shot high into the air, and then a foaming,
whirling, gurgling pool closed over the spot where
the great dive had been made. Down to the bot-
tom of the lake sank, not only Fred's Tricycle of
the Present, but his great Tricycle of the Future,
with its two stories, its beautifully working machin-
ery, its crowds of passengers, and its wonderful
achievements. There was nothing of the kind now
for Fred but a wrecked and sunken Tricycle of
the Past.
At the moment the steering-wheel left the edge
of the pier, Fred made a wild spring into the
water, and so went down by himself, off at one
side of the descending machine. As he sank,
thoughts and ideas passed through Fred's mind as
rapidly as if they were being telegraphed on a wire.
One of these was that all he had been working fcr
so hard had now come to a disastrous end; for his
father would never more allow him to have any-
thing to do with such an unmanageable machine
as a horse-tricycle. But the thought that over-
shadowed everything else was the fate of those poor
horses! They were tied to the horse-power "by
their halters, and would, therefore, be kept down
at the bottom of the lake, and be drowned. There
was so much heavy iron-work about the machinery,
it would certainly hold them there like an an-
chor. Fred had no fears in regard to himself.
No thought of sorrow-stricken parents or weeping
fi-iends passed through his mind; he had been
down to the bottom of the lake before, and although
he was encumbered with clothing, his coat was
thin, his shoes were light, and he knew that he
could swim to shore.
In a very short time he rose to the top of the
water and began to strike out for the pier. Then
some distance behind him came up the head of a




horse, and Jenny, with a little snort, went swim-
ming landward. Now appeared another horse's
head, and Glaucus, with wildly staring eyes, came
floundering up, and, after gazing about in much
amazement, made for a distant point along the
shore, as if he did not wish to land at a place
where he had come to such grief. Last of all, up
came Putty Morris, his hair dripping with water,
and his mouth spluttering vigorously as he slowly
swam shoreward !
When Fred reached the pier and had taken one
of the dozen hands which were extended to him
from the little crowd of people who had hurried
there, he was quickly pulled up, and whatever he
had intended to say was cut short by his astonish-
ment at seeing Jenny just coming to land. Then,
turning around, his amazement was increased by
the sight of Glaucus, still making for his distant
point. But when he beheld Putty Morris, spluttering
and paddling steadily for the pier, Fred's hair, wet
as it was, felt as if it would like to stand on end.
Do you live down there ? he said to Putty,
a moment later, when that dripping boy was hauled
upon the pier.
"Not exactly," was the answer, after several
vigorous shakes and puffs; "and if I 'd known
that you were going to take me down there, you
may be sure I 'd never have jumped aboard your
crazy old machine."
"How did you come to do it?" asked Fred.
I did n't know you were there."
"Well," said Putty, "I was up the road there,
and saw you coming like a lot of wild Indians. I
saw Johnny Hammond jump off, and guessed

something was the matter. Before the thing was
up to me I knew that the horses were running
away, or trying to, and that you were hanging on
to your steering gear with a rather pessimy look
on your face, and that you could n't let go to do
anything with the horses. So I ran after you, and
climbed up behind, and I had to be a pretty lively
hoptimist to do it, I can tell you. All I could
try to do was to get you rid of your horses,
and I thought that if I untied their halters and
took down their bars they'd slide out behind, and
then you 'd stop. I did n't say anything to you,
for there was such a noise I did n't suppose you 'd
hear me; and just as I unfastened the second
halter we were out on the pier, and before I had
time to jump, down we all went together !"

FRED," said Putty Morris to his friend a few
days after these events, "are you going to make
any more of your big machines ? "
Well, no," said Fred, not at present. These
things can't be done without money, and father is
rather touchy on that subject just'now. He has
had to pay for that double "horse-power," and
everything else is a dead loss; and besides that,
old Glaucus scraped his leg in the scrimmage and
he '11 not be fit to be used for a month. I am going
to begin again at the very bottom round, and if I
run anything else of the kind this summer, I shall
get a unicycle."
"A unicycle !" exclaimed Putty; "what is
that ?"
"Why, don't you know?" said Fred. "There
goes a fellow with one now."




1885.] ALIBAZAN. 487

4-' A


.)---r' .d'

,- -..~--- .

*r; *.


oj' t~ rad toA ba3n
Jaywt~ 41 iC inrg
I xF\,vs th'c'rc I n'ic a bc-rony youllo mqr-f
f l~~ay av thc inri,
\ bonn)Y y'~un -man vill dres~cd in blue.
a~t '1nd f d-icrandc stQcking adso
"RuiY'.ancl doubict andc numantktc

~~~r )y*~i5'z' in thc i
;. I
J .d -:.~ .'~~E~;*I~' l


H E madi mr a2 b\, r,.d i inlce CI I. lhf'ICc .
z t lav !P a in the tinm'nirnw,
-H said inlldccJ, I '-S is t6 ,
.1Ai yDay il,' I r ni'ii"in 1' '
'I\IC say,\ ,illy-u bL -, y snwvtct nv'
SII --'m l -l i Uinid vo.-
I v, tcn ath shbc p ,d a blac:k-o d c ,'. .-,C ,

SN I1,
'; < : -" .... ., ,. .*- ,- A.


S' hat 5 AI we buy in A'bLa'
A NayDay in the rnorning?
A pair of ;hoes and a feathered fan,
NAMay bay in the morning,
velvet sown all set with pearls,
silver bat for your golden curls,
pi, y hood for my pink ofgr!,

C-3 v 6 oa @ @ V


\nAl i t-h. streets otAlibh-an
NaIvb)ayi -i mhe InI'nlo ,
Th[-Ticrr.v.' iia-iCICin -tvipp.cd nrId rahf
.A Ilay 1ay in the rnorrii-n .
And thls ,va' lineC. and that vr r ,
'BLd. he Lurnic trorn tkhem all to [ccL iat-nc.::
A\-nd Ch1. but th-rc's rnnc so ts"'Iv -; & '! "
\ Mh.ly v ,La in thlc 1 rni-~-~.~t' I-.
,', .$I .I _;;

S* 2 -'-/
a..._ ,-.-

'."' -.l '. -. .
- ,- ~ &. -- .. .';


T\,, In the ch'.vh .\Alib, an. t _

,-\ iM v DeV ui, thc 1 0 i' 1-, ,i -
V *. -- -,.
P\,.,,- o rlhcrc l, 1 cc! nv st bc'ni v y's/c Li', a- t )': '
.\ r aloy Day I' n thcV b ion,.I,-,,.
nod h! ts I am h is 'wAct-)a-t noC\')
nC1 ch! 'l! ts '' that are hIapFI 1 t. o.
1 y\ ur tc it to 5li (.p u1iW -'Ll' bloc ki Oucdc( &\.
JN r'11a ay 111 mic 11-'di-r,

.- _

SL ,..








MY agonized shout as I saw Bobsey swept away
by the swollen torrent of the Moodna Creek was
followed closely by his own shrill scream. It
so happened, or a kind Providence so ordered it,
that Junior was farther down the stream, tapping a
maple that had been overlooked the previous day.
He sprang to his feet, whirled about in the direc-
tion of the little boy's cry, and, the next instant,
rushed to the bank and plunged in.
Spell-bound I watched his efforts, for I knew I
was much too far away to be of aid, and that all
now depended on the hardy country lad. He dis-
appeared for a second beneath the tide, and then
his swift strokes proved that he was a good swim-
mer. Very quickly he caught up with Bobsey, for
the current was too rapid to permit the child to
sink. Then, with a wisdom learned from experi-
ence, he let the tor-
S -- rerIt .: trry him in
-, a i on.- slant toward
--~~r- t-e shore, for it
S-':, 'o:.uld have been

hopeless to try to stem the current. Running as
I never ran before, I followed, reached the bank
where there was an eddy in the stream, sprung in
up to my waist, seized them both as they drifted
near me, and dragged them to solid ground.
Bobsey was conscious, although he had swal-
lowed some water, and I was soon able to restore
him, so that he could stand on his feet and cry:
I-I-I w-w-ont d-do so any-any more."
Instead of punishing him, as he evidently ex-
pected, I clasped him to my heart with a nervous
force that almost made him cry out with pain.

Junior, meanwhile, had coolly seated himself on
a rock, emptied the water out of his shoes, and
was tying them on again, at the same time striving
with all his might to maintain a stolid composure
under Winnie's grateful embraces and Merton's
repeated hand-shakings. But when, having be-
come assured of Bobsey's welfare, I also rushed
forward and embraced Junior in a transport of
gratitude, the boy's lip began to quiver, and two
great tears mingled with the water that was drip-
ping from his hair. Suddenly he broke away and
ran swiftly toward his home, as if he had been
caught in some mischief and the constable were
after him.
I carried Bobsey home, and his mother, with
many questions, and exclamations of thanks-
giving, undressed the little fellow, wrapped him in
flannel and put him to bed, where he was soon
sleeping as quietly as if nothing had happened.
Mrs. Jones came over, and we made her rubi-
cund face beam, and grow more round, if possible,
as we all praised her boy. I returned with her, for
I felt that I wished to thank Junior again and
again. But he saw me coming and slipped out at
the back door. Indeed, the brave, bashful boy was
shy of us for several days. When at last my.wife
caught him, and began to praise and thank him in
a manner natural to mothers, he made light of the
whole affair.
"I 've swum in that crick so often that it was
nothing' to me. You only need to keep cool, and
that's easy enough in snow water, and the current
was so swift it kep' us both up. I wish you
would n't say anything more about it."
But Junior soon learned that we had adopted
him into our inmost hearts, although he com-
pelled us to show our good-will after his own
off-hand fashion.
On Sunday night the wind veered around to the
north, and on Monday morning the sky had a
clear metallic hue and the ground was frozen hard.
Bobsey had not taken cold, and was his former
self, except that he was somewhat chastened in
spirit and his bump of caution was larger. I
was resolved that this day should witness a good
beginning of our spring work, and told Winnie and
Bobsey that they could help me. Junior, although
he yet avoided the house, was ready enough to
help Merton in getting the sap. And so, soon
after breakfast, we all were busy.
Around old country places, especially where there





has been some degree of neglect, much litter and
refuse gathers. This was true of our new home
and its surroundings. All through the garden
were dry, unsightly weeds; about the house was
shrubbery that had become tangled masses of un-
pruned growth; in the orchard the ground was
strewn with fallen branches, and I could see dead
limbs on many of the trees. Therefore I said
to my two little helpers:
"We will begin our brush-pile in this open
space in the garden, and here we will bring all
the rubbish that we wish to burn. You see that
we can make an immense heap, for the place is so
far away from any buildings that, when the wind
goes down, we can set the pile on fire in safety,
and the ashes will be good for the garden."
During the whole forenoon I pruned the shrub-
bery and raked up the rubbish, which the chil-
dren carried by armfuls to our prospective bonfire.
They were anxious to see the blaze, but I told them
that the wind was too high, and that I did not
propose to apply the match until we had a heap
half as big as the house; that it might be several
days before we should be ready, for I intended to
have a tremendous fire.
For a long time they were pleased with the
novelty of the work, and then they wanted to do
something else, bpt I said:
"No, no; you are gardeners now, and I 'm
head gardener. Both of you must help me till din-
ner-time. After that you can do something else,
or play if you choose; but each day, even Bobsey
must do some steady work to earn his dinner. We
did n't come to the country on a picnic, I can tell
you. All must do their best to help make a living."
And so I kept my little squad busy without scruple,
for the work was light, although it had become
Mousie sometimes aided her mother, and again
watched us from the window with great interest.
I rigged upon the barrow a rack, in which I
wheeled the rubbish gathered at a distance; and
by the time my wife's mellow voice called, Come
to dinner," we had raised a pile much higher than
my head, and the place began to wear a tidy
Such appetites, such rosy cheeks, and such jolly
red noses as the outdoor workers brought to that
plain meal! Mousie was delighted with the prom-
ise that the bonfire should not be lighted until some
still, mild day when she could go out and stand
with me beside it.
Merton admitted that drawing the sap did not
keep him busy more than half the time; so after
dinner I gave him a hatchet, and told him to go on
with the trimming-up of the fallen branches in our
wood-lot,-a task that I had begun,-and to

carry out all wood heavy enough for our fire-place
to a spot where it could be loaded on a wagon.
Your next work, Merton, will be to collect all
your refuse trimmings and the brush lying about,
into a few great heaps; and by and by we '11 burn
these, too, and gather up the ashes carefully, for
I 've read and heard all my life that there is
nothing better for fruit than wood-ashes. Some
day, I hope, we can begin to put money in the
bank; for I intend to give all a chance to earn
money for themselves, after they have done their
share toward our general effort to live and thrive.
The next best thing to putting money in the bank,
is the gathering and saving of everything that will
make the ground richer. In fact, all the papers
and books that I 've read this winter, agree that as
the farmer's land grows rich he grows rich."
It must be remembered that I had spent all my
leisure during the winter in reading and studying
the problem of our country life. Therefore I
knew that March was the best month for pruning
trees, and I had gained a fairly correct idea how to
do this work. Until within the last two or three
years of his life, old Mr. Jamison had attended to
this task quite thoroughly; and thus little was left
for me to do beyond sawing away the boughs that
had recently died and cutting out the useless
sprouts on the larger limbs. Before leaving the
city I had provided myself with such tools as
I was sure I should need; and finding a ladder
under a shed, I attacked the trees vigorously.
I knew I must make the most of all the still days
in this gusty month.
By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Jones ap-
peared, and I was glad to see him, for there were
some kinds of work about which I wanted his
advice. At one end of the garden were several
rows of black-cap raspberry bushes, which had
grown into a very bad snarl. The old canes that
had borne fruit the previous season were still stand-
ing, ragged and unsightly; the new stalks that
would bear during the coming season sprawled in
every direction; and I had found that many tips
of the branches had grown fast in the ground. I
took my neighbor to see this briery wilderness,
and asked his advice.
"Have you a pair of pruning-nippers ? he
Before going to the house to get them, I blew a
shrill whistle to summon Merton, for I wished him
also to hear all that Mr. Jones might say. I car-
ried a little metallic whistle, one blast on which
was for Merton, two for Winnie, and three for
Bobsey. When they heard my call they were to
come to me as fast as their feet could carry them.
Taking the nippers, Mr. Jones snipped off from
one-third to one-half the length of the branches



from one of the bushes and cut out the old dead
I raise these berries myself for home use," he
said; and I tell you they 're first-class with milk
for a July supper. You see, after taking off so
much from these long branches, the canes stand
straight up, and they will be self-supporting, no
matter how many berries they bear; but here and
there you '11 find a bush that's grown slantwise, or
broken off. Now, if I were you, I 'd take a crow-bar
'n' make a hole alongsidee these weakly and slantin'
stalks and tie 'em up strong. Then, soon as the
fruit yields, if you '11 root out the grass and weeds
that's started in among 'em, you 'll have a dozen
bushel or more of marketable berries from this 'ere
wilderness, as you call it. Give Merton a pair of
old gloves, and he can do most of the job. Every
tip that's fast in the ground is a new plant. If
you want to set out a new patch, I '11 show you
how, later on."
I think I know how to do that."
Yes, yes, I know. Books are a help, I s'pose;
but after you 've seen one plant set out rightly,
you '11 know more than if you 'd read a month."
"Well, now that you 're here, Mr. Jones, I 'm
going to make the most of you. How about those
other raspberries off to the south-east of the
house ?"
"Those are red ones. We '11 go look at 'em."
Having reached the patch, we found almost as
bad a tangle as in the black-cap patch, except that
the canes were more upright in their growth and
less full of spines or briers.
It's plain to see," remarked Mr. Jones, that
old Mr. Jamison was feeling' too poorly to take
care of things last year. You see, these red
raspberries grow altogether differently from those
black-caps yonder. Those increase by the tips of
the branches takin' root; these, by suckers. All
these young shoots coming' up between the rows are
suckers, and they ought to be dug out. As I said
before, you can set them out somewhere else, if
you like. Dig 'em up, you know;. make a trench
in some out-of-the-way place, and bury the roots
till you want 'em. Like enough the neighbors will
buy some if they know you have 'em to spare.
Only be sure to cut these long canes back to within
six inches of the ground."
Yes," I said, that 's all just as I have read
in the books."
So much the better for the books, then. I
have n't lived in this fruit-growin' region all my
life without getting' some idea as to what's what. I
give my mind to farmin'; but Jamison and I were
great cronies, and I used to be over here every
day or two, and so it's natural to keep coming. "
That 's my good luck," said I.,

Well, p'r'aps it'll turn out so. Now Merton 's
just the right age to help you in all this work.
Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in a con-
tinuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong
canes every eighteen inches apart and the rows five
feet apart, so he could run a horse-cultivator be-
tween. Understan', Merton?"
"Yes, sir," said the boy, with much interest.
"Well, all these extra suckers and plants that
are swampin' the ground are just as bad as weeds.
Dig 'em all out, only don't disturb the roots of the
bearin' canes you leave in the rows any more 'n
you can help."
How about trimming these ?" I asked.
Well, that depends. If you want early fruit,
you '11 let 'em stand as they are; if you want big
berries, you '11 cut 'em back one-third. Let me see.
Here are five rows of Highland Hardy,'-- miser-
able poor-tastin' kind; but they ripen so early
they often pay the best."
"Now, Mr. Jones, one other good turn and we
'11 not trouble you any more to-day," said I. "All
the front of the house is covered by two big grape-
vines that have not been trimmed, and there are
a great many other vines on the place. I 've read
and read on the subject, but I declare I 'm afraid
to touch them."
"Now you 're beyond my depth. I have a
lot of vines home, and I trim 'em in my rough
way, but I know I 'm not scientific, and we have
pretty poor, scraggy bunches. They taste just as
good, though, and I don't raise any to sell. There 's
a clever man down near the landing who has a big
vineyard, and he 's trimmed it as your vines ought
to have been trimmed long ago. I 'd advise you to
go and see him, and he can show you all the latest
wrinkles in pruning. Now, I '11 tell you what I
came for, in the first place. You'll remember that
I said there 'd be a vandoo to-morrow. I 've been
over and looked at the stock offered. There 's a
lot of chickens, as I told you; a likely looking
cow with a calf at her side; a quiet old horse that
ought to go cheap, though he'd answer well the
first year. Do you think you'll get more 'n one
horse to start with ?"
"No," said I. "You said I could hire such
heavy plowing as was needed at a moderate sum,
and I think we can get along with one horse for a
time. My plan is to go slowly, and, I hope, surely."
That 's the best way, only it is n't common.
I 'll be around in the morning' for you and such of
the children as you '11 take."
On one condition, Mr. Jones," I replied. You
must let me pay you for your time and trouble.
Unless you'll do this in giving me my start, I '11
have to paddle my own canoe, even if I sink it."
"Oh, I 've no grudge against an honest .penny




turned in any way that comes handy," said my
neighbor. You and I can keep square as we go
along. You can give me what you think is right,
and if I 'm not satisfied, I 'll say so."
I soon learned that my neighbor had no foolish
sensitiveness. I could pay him what I thought
his services were worth, and he pocketed the
money without a word. Of course, I could not
pay him what his advice was really worth, for his
hard, common sense stood me in good stead in
many ways.

There's all'us changing' and breakin's-up in the
spring," said Mr. Jones, as we drove along; "and
this family 's goin' out West. Everything is to be
sold, in doors and out."
The farm-house in question was about two
miles away. By the time we arrived, all sorts of
vehicles were converging to it on the muddy
roads, for the weather had become mild again.
Stylish-looking people drove up in top-buggies, and
there were many heavy springless wagons driven
by rusty-looking countrymen, with their trousers


The next morning, at about eight o'clock, he
arrived in a long farm-wagon on springs, with one
seat in it. But Junior had half filled its body with
straw, and he said to Merton: "I thought that,
p'r'aps, if you and the children could go, you 'd
like a straw-ride."
Winnie and Bobsey, having promised to obey
orders with a solemnity which gave some hope of
performance, I tossed them into the straw, and we
drove away, a merry party, leaving Mousie con-
soled with the hope of receiving something from
the vendue.

thrust into the tops of their cowhide boots. I
strolled through the house before the sale began,
thinking I might possibly find something there
that would please Mousie and my wife. The rooms
were already half filled with the housewives from
the vicinity; red-faced Irishwomen, who stalked
about and examined everything with great freedom;
and placid, peach-cheeked dames in Quaker bon-
nets, who talked softly together, and took every
chance they could to say pleasant words to the flur-
ried, nervous family that was being thrust out into
the world, as it were, while still at their own hearth.


I marked with my eye a low, easy sewing-chair
for my wife and a rose geranium, full of bloom,
for Mousie, purposing to bid on them. I also
observed that Junior was examining several pots
of flowers that stood in the large south window.
Then giving Merton charge of the children, with
directions not to lose sight of them a moment, I
went to the barn-yard and stable, feeling that the
day was a critical one in our fortunes. True
enough, among the other stock there was a nice-
looking cow with a calf, and Mr. Jones said she
had Jersey blood in her veins. This meant rich
creamy milk. I thought the animal had a rather
ugly eye, but this might be caused by anxiety for
her calf, with so many strangers about. We
also examined the old bay horse and a market
wagon and harness. Then Mr. Jones and I drew
apart and agreed upon the limit of his bids, for I
proposed to act solely through him. Every one
Knew him and was aware that he would not go a
cent beyond what a thing was worth.
At ten o'clock the sale began. The auctioneer
was a rustic humorist, who knew the practical
value of a joke in his business. Aware of many
of the foibles and characteristics of the people who
flocked around and after him, he provoked many a
ripple and roar of laughter by his telling hits and
droll speeches. I found that my neighbor, Mr.
Jones, came in for his full share, but he always
sent back as good as he received. The sale, in
fact, had the aspect of a country merry-making, at
which all sorts and conditions of people met on a
common ground and bid against one another, while
boys and dogs innumerable worried and played
about and sometimes verged on serious quarrels.
At noon there was an immense pot of coffee,
with crackers and cheese, placed on a table near
the kitchen door, and we had a free lunch.
The day came to an end at last, and the cow
and calf, the old bay horse, the wagon, and the
harness were mine. On the whole, Mr. Jones had
bought them at reasonable rates. He also secured
for me a good collection of poultry that looked
fairly well in their coops.
For my part, I had secured the chair and bloom-
ing geranium. To my surprise, when the rest of
the flowers were sold, Junior took part in the bid-
ding for the first time, and, as a result, carried out
to the wagon several other pots of house-plants.
"Why, Junior," I said, "I did n't know you
had such an eye for beauty."
He blushed, but made no reply.
The coops of chickens and also the harness were
put into Mr. Jones's conveyance, the wagon I had
bought was tied on behind, and we jogged home-
ward, the children exulting over our new posses-
sions. When I took in the geranium bush and put

it on the table by the sunny kitchen window, Junior
followed with an armful of his plants.
"They're for Mousie," he said; and before the
delighted child could thank him he darted out.
Indeed, it soon became evident that Mousie was
Junior's favorite. She never said much to him,
but she looked a great deal. To the little invalid
girl he seemed the embodiment of strength and
cleverness, and, perhaps, because he was so strong,
his sympathies went out toward the feeble child.
The coops of chickens were carried to the base-
ment that we had prepared, and Winnie declared
that she meant to hear the first crow and get the
first egg."
The next day the horse and the cow and calf
were brought over, and we felt that we were fairly
launched in our country life.
"You have a bigger family to look after out-
doors than I have indoors," my wife said, laugh-
It was evident that, from some cause, the cow
was wild and vicious. One of my theories is that
all animals can be subdued by kindness. Mr.
Jones advised me to dispose of Brindle, but I
determined to test my theory first. Several times
a day I would go to the barn-yard and give her a
carrot or a wisp of hay from my hand, and she
gradually became accustomed to me, and would
come at my call. A week later I sold her calf

to a butcher, and for a few days she lowed and
mourned deeply, greatly to Mousie's distress. But
carrots consoled her, and within three weeks she
grew gentle to all of us. I believe she had been
treated harshly by her former owners.
Spring was coming on apace, and we all made
the most of every pleasant hour. The second day
after the auction proved a fine one; and leav-
ing Winnie and Merton in charge of the house, I
took my wife, with Bobsey and Mousie, who was
well bundled up, to see the scientific grape-
grower, and to do some shopping. At the same
time, we assured ourselves that we were having a
pleasure-drive; and it did me good to see how the
mother and daughter, who had been kept indoors
so long, enjoyed themselves. Mr. Jones was right.
I received better and clearer ideas of vine-pruning
in half an hour from studying those that had been
properly trimmed, and by asking questions of a
practical man, than I could ever have obtained by
reading. We found that the old bay horse jogged
along, at as good a gait as we could expect, over
the muddy road, and I was satisfied that he was
so quiet that my wife could safely drive him after
she had learned how, and had gained a little con-
fidence. She held the reins as we returned.
When we sat down to supper, I was glad to see
that a little color was dawning in Mousie's face.



The bundles we brought home supplemented
our stores of needful articles, and our life began
to take on a regular routine. The carpenter came
and put up the shelves, and made such changes as
my wife desired; then he aided me in repairing the
out-buildings. I finished pruning the trees, while
Merton worked manfully at the raspberries, for we
saw that this was a far more pressing task than
gathering wood, which could be done to better ad-
vantage in the late autumn. Every morning Win-
nie and Bobsey were kept steadily busy in carrying

pruned and the grape-tines trimmed and tied up,
and had given Merton a great deal of help among
the raspberries. In shallow boxes of earth on the
kitchen table, cabbage, lettuce, and tomato seeds
were sprouting beside Mousie's plants, the little
girl hailing with delight every yellowish-green
germ that appeared above the soil.
The first day of April promised to be unusually
dry and warm, and I said at the breakfast table:
This is to be a great day. We '11 prove that
we are not April-fools by beginning our garden.


our trimmings to the brush-heap, which now began
to assume vast proportions, especially as the prun-
ings from the grape-vines and raspberry bushes
were added to it. As the ground became settled
after the frost was out, I began to set the stakes
by the side of such raspberry canes as needed
tying up ; and here was a new light task for the two
younger children. Bobsey's little arms could go
around the canes and hold them close to the stake,
while Winnie, a sturdy child, quickly tied them
with a coarse, cheap string that I had bought for
the purpose. Even my wife came out occasionally
and helped us at this work. By the end of the
last week in March I had all the fruit trees fairly

I suppose I shall make mistakes, but I wish you all
to see how I do it, and then by next spring we shall
have learned from experience how to do better.
Merton and I will get out the seeds. By ten
o'clock, Mousie, if the sun keeps out of the clouds,
you can put on your rubbers and join us."
Soon all was bustle and excitement, in antici-
pation of the seed-planting.
Among my seeds were two quarts of red and two
of white onion sets, or tiny onions, which I had kept
in a cool place, so that they should not sprout
before their time. These I took out first. I
marked off a long strip of the sunny slope, making
the strip about fifteen feet wide, and manured it


K-7~r n~4~ gi2~~C -I'
7-,,~" T$-~It-~

~Wr~-% C _-

2K1A444 *crt~1~
'e~i pq j'6j'


evenly and thickly. I then dug until my back
ached; and I found that it began to ache very
soon, for I was not accustomed to such toil.
"After the first seeds are in," I muttered, "I
will have the rest of the garden plowed."
When I had dug down about four feet of the
strip, I concluded to rest myself by a change of
labor; so I took the rake and smoothed off the
ground, stretched a garden line across it, and, with
a sharp-pointed hoe, made a shallow trench or drill.
"Now, Winnie and Bobsey," I said, "it is
time for you to do your part. Just stick these
little onions in the trench about four inches
apart; and I gave each of them a little stick of
the right length to measure the distance; for they
had but vague ideas of four inches. Be sure," I
continued, "that you get the bottom of the onion
down. This is the top, and this is the bottom.
Press the onion in the soil just enough to make it
stand firm, so. That 's right. Now I can rest,
you see, while you do the planting."
In a few moments they had stuck the fifteen
feet of shallow trench or drill full of onions, which
I at once covered with earth, packing it lightly
with my hoe. I then moved the line fourteen inches
farther down and made another shallow drill. In
this way we soon had all the onion sets in the
ground. We next sowed, in even shallower drills,
the little onion seed that looked like gunpowder,
for my garden book said that the earlier this was
planted the better. We had only completed a few
rows, when Mr. Jones appeared, and said:
"Plantin' onions here? Why, neighbor, this
ground is too dry and light for onions."
Is that so ? Well, I knew I 'd make mistakes,"
I said.
Oh, well, no great harm s done," he replied.
"You 've made the ground rich, and, if we have
a moist season, like enough they '11 do well. I came
over to say that if this weather holds a day or two
longer, I '11 plow the garden; and I thought I 'd
tell you, so that you might get ready for me. The
sooner you plant your early potatoes the better, and
a plow beats a fork all hollow. You '11 know what
I mean when you see my plow going down to the
beam and loosenin' the ground from fifteen to
twenty inches. So burn your big brush-pile, and
I'11 be ready when you are."
All right. Thank you I '11 just plant some
radishes, peas, and beans."
"No beans yet, Mr. Durham. Don't put those
in till the last of the month, and plant them very
shallow when you do."
"How one forgets when there 's not much ex-
perience to fall back upon I now remember that
my book said that beans, in this latitude, should
not be planted until about the first of May."

"And lima beans not till the tenth of May,"
added Mr. Jones. You might put in a few early
beets here, although the ground is rather light for
'em. You could put your main crop somewhere
else. Well, let me know when you are ready.
Junior and I are driving' things, too, this morning; "
and he stalked away, whistling a hymn-tune in
rather lively time.
I said: Youngsters, I think I '11 get my gar-
den book and be sure I 'm right about sowing the
radish and beet seed and the peas. Mr. Jones has
rather shaken my confidence."
In a short while Merton and I had several rows
of radishes and beets sown, fourteen inches apart.
We planted the seed only an inch deep, and packed
the ground lightly over it. Mousie, to her great
delight, was allowed to drop a few of the seeds.
Merton was ambitious to take the fork, but I ad-
vised him not to, and said: Digging is too heavy
work for you, my boy. There is enough that you
can dowithout overtaxing yourself. We all mustact
like good soldiers. The campaign of work is just
opening, and it would be very foolish for any of us
to disable ourselves at the start. We '11 plant only
half a dozen rows of these dwarf peas this morn-
ing, and then this afternoon we '11 have the bon-
fire and make ready for Mr. Jones's plow."
At the prospect of the bonfire the younger chil-
dren set up shouts of exultation, which cheered me
on as I turned over the soil with the fork, although
often stopping to rest. My back ached, but my
heart was light. In my daily work now I had all
my children about me, and their smaller hands
were helping in the most practical way. A soft
spring haze half obscured the mountains and mel-
lowed the sunshine. From the springing grass
and fresh turned soil came odors sweet as those
which made Eden fragrant after "a mist went up
from the earth and watered the whole face of the
All the children helped to plant the peas, which
we placed carefully and evenly, an inch apart, in
the row, and covered with two inches of soil, the
rows being two feet distant one from another. I
had decided to plant chiefly McLean's Little Gem,
because they needed neither stakes nor brush for
support. We were almost through our task when,
happening to look toward the house, I saw my
wife standing in the doorway, a framed picture.
Dinner," she called, in a voice as sweet to me
as that of the robin singing in a cherry-tree over
her head.
The children stampeded for the house, Winnie
crying: Hurry, Mamma, and let us get through,
for Papa says that after dinner he '11 set the great
brush-pile on fire, and we 're going to dance around
it like Indians! You must come out, too !"

(To be continued.)



isss.l IN PRIMROSE TIME. 497

(Early Spring in Ireland.*)


HERE 'S the lodge-woman in her great cloak coming,
And her white cap. What-joy
Has touched the ash-man? On my word, he's humming
A boy's song, like a boy!
He quite forgets his cart. His donkey grazes
Just where it likes the grass.
The red-coat soldier, with his medal, raises
His hat to all who pass;
And the blue-jacket sailor,-hear him whistle,
Forgetting Ireland's ills!
Oh, pleasant land--(iho thinks of thorn or thistle?)
Upon your happy hills
The world is out! And, faith, if I mistake not,
The world is in its prime
(Beating for once, I think, with hearts that ache not)
In Primrose time.

Against the sea-wall leans the Irish beauty,
With face and hands in bloom,
Thinking of anything but household duty
In her thatched cabin's gloom; -
Watching the ships as leisurely as may be,
Her blue eyes dream for hours.
Hush! There's her mother-coming with the baby
In the fair quest of flowers.
And her grandmother!-hear her laugh and chatter,
Under her hair frost-white !
Believe me, life can be a merry matter,
And common folk polite,
And all the birds of heaven one of a feather,
And all their voices rhyme,-
They sing their merry songs, like one, together,
In Primrose time.

The magpies fly in pairs (an evil omen
It were to see but one);
The snakes -but here, though, since St. Patrick, no man
Has seen them in the sun;

VOL. XII.-32.

* See page 554-


The white lamb thinks the black lamb is his brother,
And half as good as he;
The rival carmen all love one another,
And jest, right cheerily;
The compliments among the milkmen savor
Of pale gold blossoming;
And everybody wears the lovely favor
Of'our sweet Lady Spring.
And though the ribbons in a bright procession
Go toward the chapel's chime,-
Good priest, there be but few sins for confession
In Primrose time.

How all the children in this isle of faery
Whisper and laugh and peep !
(Hush, pretty babblers Little feet be wary,
You 'll scare them in their sleep,
The wee, weird people of the dew, who wither
Out of the sun, and lie
Curled in the wet leaves, till the moon comes hither.)-
The new-made butterfly
Forgets he was a worm. The ghostly castle,
On its lone rock and gray,
Cares not a whit for either lord or vassal
Gone on their dusty way,
But listens to the bee, on errands sunny.-
A thousand years of crime
May all be melted in a drop of honey
In Primrose time!




"BUT there was a maiden knight once said
Letty, with her brown eyes full of tears.
"Sir Lancelot" and "Sir Gareth," otherwise
Jack and Harry, paused in their tilt, and gazed at
their little sister in amazement.
There was," persisted Letty, resolutely, though
with a quivering lip. "I read all about her in one
of Papa's books. Her name was Britomartis, and
she had long golden hair that fell down when she
took her helmet off, and-and she conquered
Go on and tell us all about it," said Harry,
dropping his sword. Letty was always finding
entertaining stories in books that neither of the
boys would have thought of opening. It was she
who had told them about the Round Table, and
had set them to reading for themselves the won-
derful adventures of Lancelot and Gareth, of
Tristram, and Galahad, and Alisander. It was
rather hard that she should be shut out from the
fascinating games that grew out of these researches
into the "Morte d'Arthur," simply because she
was a girl. The boys were quite willing that their
sister should take the part of the distressed lady
for whom they should fight; but sitting on a rag-
bag and crying out, Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou
flower of knighthood, succor a forlorn lady! "
was entirely beneath Letty's ambition, and even
the more active part of gracefully waving a hand-
kerchief during a tournament, and tying her hair-
ribbon about the helmet of the conqueror, failed to
satisfy her desires. It was with a decided sense
of injury that Letty went on with her story.
"Yes, she conquered every knight that she
fought, and she was always helping ladies and
everybody that needed her, and she was the
strongest and most beautiful knight in Fairy-land."
"Fairy-land !" exclaimed Harry. "Was it just
a fairy story ? That does n't count!"
"It was lovely poetry said Letty, indignantly,
"and King Arthur was in it too,' so it counts just
as much as anything."
"If it was poetry, it was n't true," said Jack,
conclusively. "I thought it didn't sound very
true Great idea that- of a woman conquering
all the knights I 'd just like to see a girl that was
braver than a boy! Come, Harry, let's go on
playing 'Gay Sir Knight, wilt thou ride a tilt with
me?'" And the boys careered wildly about the
garret on their invisible chargers, leaving Letty.
to amuse herself as she could until school-time.

It was a beautiful May morning. The grass along
the roadside was white with daisies, as the children
ran to school. Tilts and tournaments were for-
gotten, under the clear blue sky, with the soft wind
tossing Letty's fair hair, while Jack chased butter-
flies, and Harry blew off the feathery dandelion-
tops to see which way he should go to seek his
fortune. They stopped as they passed the rail-
way bridge to look at the lily-pads in the marshy
water below it, and to prophesy how long it would
be before they could come there to gather the
lilies; and then they went on to school as usual.
They did not dream that none of the three.
would ever pass that place in the same careless
way again, nor that the commonplace row of rail-
way sleepers would be made beautiful for them
forever after that day by a deed that was finer and
fairer than even the snowy lilies which blossomed
below it in the summer-time.
They had just reached the turn of the road
which passed the bridge, on their way home, that
afternoon, when Letty heard a child's cry. A very
little girl, not more than four years old, stood in
the middle of the bridge looking helplessly from
one bank to the other. It was not a long distance
across, and the water below was not deep, but the
child was evidently frightened, and it was not in
Letty's nature to. pass any one in trouble without
trying to help.
S"What's the matter?" she called. "Wait a
minute, boys How did she ever get there ?"
"I .can't get off," wailed the child. I 'm
afraid. Oh, please come and help me "
Stand- still, then, and I will," called Letty
again, beginning to step carefully from one sleeper
to another.
Jack and. Harry never forgot the next few
minutes. It seemed as if a flash of lightning had
engraved the whole picture on their hearts, so
vividly could they recall it long after.
The railway track made a sharp turn out of the
woods across the bridge, and passed them leading
down toward the village. The afternoon sun
shone through the trees on the farther bank, and
flecked with light the little figure of the sobbing.
child, who was waiting for Letty. She had on a
pink apron, and her hair was brown and curly.
Jack noticed a great red butterfly over Letty's
head as she stepped on the third sleeper. Then a
rumbling, sound, growing louder and louder, be-
yond made him cry out in terror, to his sister:





"Letty! Letty! come back! The train the
train! "
There it was, like a great fiery dragon, sweeping
around the turn; and there was Letty on the
bridge, and the little girl nearer to the opposite
shore. It all happened in a moment. Letty gave
a great gasp. The boys heard it, and saw her
pause as if to turn back, and then, full in the face
of the coming train, timid Letty sprang on toward
the stranger child, and caught her in her arms, just
as the engine, which had
slackened speed, but _
could not stop before
reaching them, rolled
upon the bridge. Harry
screamed wildly; Jack .
shut his eyes and dropped ', ;,,
on the grass with a great
sob. There was a rush and
rumble, which seemed
ages long, a shriek from '.
the engine, and then the
place was still again.
When Jack opened his
eyes he saw that the train
had stopped as soon as it
reached the shore; that a
brakeman, with Harry fol-
lowing him, was half-way
down the bridge; and be-
yond them Jack saw Letty
herself, but crouched on
the sleepers outside the track, with the brown head
of the other child lying on her arm. They were both
very still. "Dead!" thought Jack, with a sudden
wild feeling that he loved Letty dearly, and wanted
her to be with him all his life, and that he had not
been kind to her that morning in the garret.

"Mamma," said Harry, afterward, "when we
got them off the bridge and found they were n't
either of them hurt, but only terribly frightened,
Jack and I both sat down and cried But Letty
was crying so hard herself that she did n't notice it;
and don't you tell "
That evening, as Letty lay pale and quiet, but
very happy, in her bed, whither she had retired
much earlier than usual, Jack stole in with his
sword in his hand. It was a black-walnut sword,
with a brown silk cord and tassel on the hilt, and
Jack was very proud of it. He sat down on the
other side of the bed and held it out to Letty, in an
embarrassed manner.
You're the bravest girl I ever heard of!" he
said, hurriedly; "and I '11 just own up and say
that I never would have dared to do what you
did,-and besides, I think so much of you, Letty,-

and poetry does count, too,-and you can have
my sword and be apy knight you please, and I 'I1
never be mean to you again. So there, now I "
"It was to help the little girl that I went," said
Letty, with a joyous smile; "and I know you
would have gone on, too, if you 'd been on the
bridge; so you need n't say I 'm braver than you
are. And I know it will be more fun for all of us
if you and Harry let me play with you; and I love
you dearly, Jack !"

/. -

Jack looked sheepish, but pleased.
"I '11 dub you knight myself, if you like," he
said. "People used to like to have Sir Lancelot
dub them knight."
And so, with some laughter and much enjoy-
ment, the ceremony was performed at once; and
when Mamma came in, a few minutes later, she
found the little maiden-knight lying asleep, with
the sword in her hand, and a look of such gladness
in her face, that the tears sprung to the mother's
eyes as she thought of what might have been.



x88s.] HIS ONE FAULT. 501

LT FGU F WIfE u\k.
_T_ Q)

-- v

-/ ___-





ELSIE BENTING was thrilled with something
deeper than surprise by the expression of Kit's
face and the tone of his voice.
"You are no more of a highwayman than my
brothers?" she exclaimed. "Why, how can that
I took their horse," he said, "and now they
have taken me. It's a mistake on both sides. I
took the horse by mistake, and they have taken
me by mistake, while I was on my way back with
it to Peaceville." And his eyes beamed upon her
with convincing candor.
How could you ever make such a mistake as
that?" she inquired, trying to remain incredu-
lous, while her heart felt the earnest truthfulness
which inspired such looks and tones.
My uncle's horse had been stolen the night be-
fore, and I found it in one of the sheds at the
cattle-show. I left a fellow to watch it--a scamp

named Branlow; I ought to have known better,
but he used to work for my father, and he ap-
peared so friendly that I thought I could trust him.
I went to get something to eat, and when I came
back he put me on the horse in the next shed,
which he had saddled and bridled, instead of
mine. It was quite dark; both horses are of nearly
the same color; and I rode off in so great a hurry
that I never noticed the difference until I reached
home. I think now that it was Branlow who stole
our horse, and that he played the trick on me,
knowing just how big'a blunderhead I am "
You a blunderhead ? said Elsie, with a smile
at his eager, intelligent face.
He could not help smiling in return, rather rue-
fully, 'however.
"Does n't what I tell you prove it?" answered
Kit. If you had put me on the Peaceville race-
course yesterday, and picked out the champion
blunderers of America to match me, I should
have come out several lengths ahead. That's




,what my uncle thinks, at any rate; and no
wonder! "
The man you speak of must be the one who
claimed that you had stolen his saddle and bridle,"
said Elsie.
Oh, the scoundrel! exclaimed Kit. Did
he claim that? And he described Branlow's ap-
"The very same!" said Elsie. "I knew he
was a rogue, by the way he talked -so smooth
and plausible And my brothers were afterward
convinced of it."
I am glad he is caught! said Kit.
"Caught ?" said Elsie.
She had seated herself opposite him, and they
were now conversing face to face, across the table.
"Your brothers said he was," replied Kit.
"And they talked as if he and I had been stealing
horses together "
"That's what they inferred; and it certainly
looked as if you were in company with him," said
Elsie. "But this is the first I have heard of his
being caught."
See here, Elsie !" called Tom, from the other
room. When she appeared in the door-way, he
beckoned her to come nearer, and whispered,
"What are you talking with that fellow for ? He's
fibbing to you, with every word he says."
"I am afraid somebody has been fibbing to
him," she replied, with a quiet sparkle in her
moist eyes. "You never told us at home here of
that other fellow's having been caught."
"That 's bosh, of course," said Tom. "I
thought I might frighten this one into owning up,
if I let him think that the other one had done so."
"I don't believe he has anything more to own
up to than what he has been telling me," said
Elsie. "You heard it?"
"Yes," Tom answered, carelessly; "and it's
nothing new. He tried the story on us before;
but when we catch a thief in the very act of riding
away on our horse, we are not to be fooled by any
such pretense; are we, Lon?"
"Oh, you are not, are n't you ? she replied,
with keen satire. Who was fooled last night by
the other one, as you call him ? And who was the
first to understand him?"
Of course, you were right, in his case," Tom
"And so am I right now," she averred. "I
am just as sure that this boy is honest as I was that
that man was a rogue."
He may be," said Lon, shoving his chair back
from the table. But his saying so does n't make
him so."
His being so makes him so; and that 's what
I say," Elsie insisted, in a voice loud enough for

Kit to hear in the next room. Talk about his
surly, hang-dog look, Tom! He has as open,
honest a face as you have; and you can't wonder
that he appeared a little surly, after your treatment
of him. How would you look in his place, do
you suppose? Not very angelic, I imagine."
How could we treat him any differently ?" Tom
asked. "If you are going to take every rogue's
explanation, when he is caught, for gospel truth,
I fancy few thieves would be brought to justice."
"That's so !" said Charley.
Come, boys," said Lon, not deeming it worth
while to argue the matter further. "You never
can tell anything by what a rogue says. There 's
only one thing you can rely upon: and that's
evidence. If his story is true, he '11 hive a chance
to prove it."
He had risen from the table; his brothers fol-
lowed his example.
"I 've no doubt that he will be able to prove it,"
Elsie persisted in saying. "But think what he
may have to suffer first You wont put him in
jail, will you ?"
"That will depend upon what the judge says,
and not upon us at all," said Lon. "We have no
right to keep him a prisoner here, at any rate, any
longer than is necessary."
"Wait, at least, until father comes home!"
Elsie was fairly pleading Kit's cause by this time.
We shall probably meet him on the way,"
replied Lon.
He has n't eaten anything yet," said Elsie.
I 'm sure that's his own fault, then," said
Tom. He might have been eating when he was
telling you fibs."
"Promise, at any rate, that you wont tie his
hands again," was Elsie's answer.
"We wont tie him if he behaves himself," said
Lon. "Come, my boy!" laying his hand on
Kit's shoulder.
Kit rose with a fluttering heart.
I don't suppose there 's any use of my telling
you again what I've told you before," he said,
indulging a faint hope that Elsie's intercession
might have changed her brothers' intentions
toward him.
"Not a bit of use," Lon answered, kindly
enough, but firmly. We '11 give you a full and
fair chance to tell it to the judge; but that's all
we can do."
"Well you have been good to me said Kit,
his voice quivering, and his eyes glistening, as he
turned a grateful look on Elsie. Some time," he
added, choking a little, and then resolutely mas-
tering the passion that swelled his heart, "you '11
know that what I have told you is true, and. then
you wont be sorry you took my part."



"I know it well enough now," she replied, as
Lon led him away; but don't blame my brothers
too much."
Oh, I don't blame them! "
Kit mounted to the wagon-seat with Lon and
Tom; and as he rode away amid the tall tree-trunks
of the sunlit grove, he took off his base-ball cap to
her, in a bar of the golden light, a smile of tender
brightness suddenly irradiating his anxious face, as
he looked back at her, while his lips shaped an in-
audible Good-bye "


THAT last.smile of the captive lingered long with
Elsie Benting, as she stood in the door of the old
farm-house, while the wagon that bore him with
Lon and Tom-(Charley rode on horse-back)-
disappeared up the road beyond the grove.
She hoped that they would meet her father be-
fore reaching the magistrate's office, and that he
also would be quickly convinced of Kit's innocence.
But when they had been gone adout half an hour,
Mr. Benting, with her mother, returned home by
another road.
They had seen nothing of the boys; and now Elsie
had the surprising news to relate of her brothers'
having found the horse, and their having stopped
at home with the little rider in the white cap, on
their way to Duckford village.
But he 's no more a horse-thief than I am "
she asserted. "He is just a bashful boy. You
should have seen how he blushed when I was talk-
ing to hir It's a strange story he tells, but I
believe every word of it."
Mr. Benting, a tall man with white whiskers,
and exceedingly pleasant eyes peering out from
under bushy gray brows, stood by his buggy wheel
at the door, looking down with a sort of humorous
interest at the young girl, telling with no little dra-
matic effect the story of the supposed horse-thief.
"And I think it is too bad, too cruel," she
said at the end, that the poor boy should have
to go to jail "
It would be too bad, truly," Mr. Benting re-
plied, laying his hand fondly on her shoulder, if
he is as innocent as you suppose. But it is n't a
very probable story, Elsie; now do you think it
is? Consider a minute."
But while we are considering," said Elsie,
"they are putting him in jail! "
"That, probably, is where he belongs, I 'm
sorry to say," replied her father, with a quiet good
humor, curiously in contrast with her excitement.
" It 's just such a story as every rogue has at his
tongue's end to explain away his roguery when
he is caught in it."

I wish we had been at home," said Mrs. Bent-
ing, as he helped her from the buggy.
So do I, for, after all, Elsie may be right. She
is rather shrewd in her judgments of people. And
I '11 tell you what I 'm going to do, little girl, to
please you." (The paternal mouth puckered in a
playful, affectionate smile.) "I am going to drive
after the boys and see that they have made no
"Oh, what a dear, delightful old Papa! Elsie
cried, joyfully, putting up her face to kiss him.
"You '11 have dinner first, wont you?" said
Mrs. Benting.
Shall I? (He gave a sidelong, teasing look
at Elsie.) "Well, never mind about dinner for me
till I come back. I think I shall know when I see
the fellow, how big a rascal he is. Though I warn
you at the outset, little one, that the boys are
probably right about him."
Entering the buggy as he spoke, he wheeled
about among the trees, and disappeared up the
dusty road.
The hour Elsie had to wait for his return seemed
interminable. But at last, going out for the
twentieth time to take a peep from under the
maples, she saw the buggy and the wagon coming,
with Charley on General galloping before.
Her father was alone in the buggy, but Lon and
Tom were in the wagon. Where, then, was the
youthful prisoner whom she had confidently ex-
pected to see returning with them?
What did I tell you ? cried Charley, driving
up under the trees. "The idea of your taking
the part of such a fellow "
Her face, bright at first with expectation, had
assumed a shade of doubt, which now deepened to
disappointment and dismay.
"Now, Charley," she remonstrated, don't say
that! What have you done with him ? "
"Ask Father," replied Charley. "He '11 tell
you he had only to look at him to be perfectly
sure of the kind of character he is."
"Don't tell me, Charles Benting! exclaimed
his sister, that Father thought as badly of him as
you boys did; I never will believe it! "
"He does think as badly of him as we do," he
insisted, with a change of tense which she failed
to notice. "And the judge-- "
As he slipped off the horse he was careful to turn
away his face, on which was a struggling smile he
did not wish her to see.
What did he say ?" she demanded.
He said it was a perfectly clear case. Stolen
horse found in the possession of the boy who was
seen to take it and ride it away,- there was only
one thing to be done about it."
"What was that? "


Commit him to jail, of course."
Oh, he did n't! said the indignant Elsie.
"Yes, he did; sober truth !" Charley insisted.
"Ask the boys; ask Father. Say, boys,"- to Lon
and Tom, Jjust then driving up,-" did n't the
judge say it was a clear case and that he must go
to jail? And does n't Father think of him just as
we do ? She wont believe a word I say "
Lon and Tom were laughing. Mr. Benting's
face likewise wore a good-humored smile as he
drove up and heard the controversy. Getting no
satisfaction from her brothers, she appealed to him.
"Well, yes, my dear," he said, "I think my

of the Duckford justice, whom they had the luck to
find alone at his desk and just thinking of going
home to his dinner. Charley rode on to find a
constable, while Lon and Tom went in and made
oath to their complaint against the prisoner.
It seemed, indeed, a perfectly clear case; and
the magistrate was impatient to sniff the odors of
the roast beef which he knew was just then com-
ing out of the home oven. He gave little heed
and less belief to the boy's story; but promised
that he should have ample opportunity to bring
proof of it, at the hearing which he appointed for
the following day.


opinion of that boy is about the same as theirs.
And the judge did commit him to jail. Charley
has told you nothing but the truth; but he has n't
told you quite all the truth. Why do you persist
in teasing your sister, Charles? he added, in a
tone of not very severe reproof.
To punish her for crowing over us, as she will
when she hears the rest," Charley made answer.
Oh, tell me, Father cried the eager Elsie.
And he told briefly what it is now time for us to
relate a little more in detail.
The boys, finding they had missed their father
on the way to the village, proceeded to the office

Suppose I can't get my friends here by that
time ? queried Kit.
"The hearing may be postponed, in that case.
You can employ counsel, and the court will do
everything for you that is deemed necessary and
With these words the judge rose from his seat,
putting on his hat; and Kit, for want of bail, was
marched out in charge of the constable.
He was thinking dejectedly of the strait to which
his blundering had at last brought him; the deg-
radation of being put into the lock-up ; the expense
of a lawyer; the difficulty of getting Uncle Gray




or any one else to come and testify in his behalf;
the distress of his widowed mother, and the amuse-
ment or disgust of enemies and friends, when they
should hear of his predicament; with all the
wretchedness of uncertainty and delay in the dis-
entanglement of this dreadful snarl in which he
had enwound himself; -he was thinking of all this,
as he walked away with the officer, when a voice
called out:
"Wait a minute "
It was the voice of Lon Benting.
Lon and his brothers had found time to cool off,
after the first flush of victory; and Elsie's more
favorable opinion of the prisoner was beginning to
influence them. Then Kit's straightforward recital
of his story to the judge, without contradiction of
his previous statements in the least particular,
shook their boyish self-confidence, and caused
them to look furtively at one another, with mis-
givings which each tried to conceal.
In short, the more they saw of Kit, the less of a
villain he appeared to be, and the more they dis-
trusted their suspicions. It was not half the satisfac-
tion they had anticipated to see him led away to
the lock-up. Lon and Tom, especially, were feeling
the weight of their responsibility in the doubtful
business, when they were vastly relieved at sight
of a well-known buggy coming down the street.
It's Father Tom said to the justice, who was
again on the point of hurrying off to his dinner.
"He will want to see you."
Mr. Benting being a citizen whom every one
was glad to oblige, the magistrate paused reluc-
tantly, and stood by his door while the buggy
drove up to it. The officer also stopped, a few
paces off, with his prisoner. There were a few
spectators, who had witnessed the scene in the
office, and more were gathering; men walking
leisurely across the street, and boys in the distance
running and shouting.
What's going on here ?" said Mr. Benting,
drawing rein. You've got General, I see, boys!"
eying the horse with satisfaction. "And the
rogue-is that the rogue?" peering out from
under his bushy gray brows at the little captive.
All that we know about him is that we caught
him riding our horse away," said Tom.
"How much of a rogue he is," added Lon,
remains to be proved."
Kit could not help noticing the changed man-
ner toward him of Elsie's big, obstinate brothers.
Very different now the tone which had been so bois-
terous, and the judgment which had been so stern.
How is it, Judge ? Mr. Benting inquired.
There seemed abundant evidence to justify a
commitment," the judge explained.
Mr. Benting alighted from his buggy, and

stood looking down searchingly at the miserable
Conscious of the scrutiny, and aware of many
eyes fixed upon him, looking for signs of guilt in
his burning face, poor Kit was very much abashed.
His head was hot, his temples were throbbing, his
cheeks on fire; and to save his life he could not
have kept his suffused eyes from falling, before
Mr. Benting's searching gaze. First they dropped
from that gentleman's eyes to his white whiskers;
then went down his coat-front button by button;
switched off on the right leg, descended that to
the boot, and so glided to the ground.
The very necessity he felt of standing up stoutly,
and answering the gaze of Elsie's father with an
air of open innocence, helped to betray him into
this appearance of guilt. He was angry with him-
self, for his blushes and weak eyes; and with
quick, fierce breath, and teeth set hard, he strug-
gled to regain his self-control.
Come! said Mr. Benting, eying him with an
expression of keen curiosity tempered by humor-
ous compassion, "tell me frankly just how much
of a rogue you are."


THEN Kit looked up. He was himself again.
I'm not used to being called a rogue," he-re-
plied; "and I can't answer such a question as
But they say you were taken while riding away
on my horse," said Mr. Benting. How do you
account for that ?"
"I've explained, five or six times already, how
that happened," said Kit, in a grieved and disap-
pointed tone. "But I '11 explain once more, and
be glad to, if it will do any good."
Mr. Benting turned to the judge.
This is hardly the place to talk with him; and,
if you've no objection, I'd like to see him a few
minutes in your office."
"Certainly," said the judge, with a despairing
thought of his dinner. And again entering his
office in company with Kit and the constable, Mr.
Benting and Lon and Tom, he closed the door and
shut out the crowd.
There Mr. Benting sat down in a leather-cush-
ioned chair, and in a kindly but searching manner
questioned Kit, who stood before him, still flushed,
but resolute.
"I've heard something of your story, and 1
must say it has n't seemed to me very probable.
But it may be true, for all that. Truih is stranger
than fiction' is an old saying, and a true one.
Where did you mount my horse, when you mis-
took him for your uncle's ? "



S"Under one of the cattle-sheds at the fair," said
S"As I remember them, those sheds are very
low-roofed. I should have thought that you could
not mount very comfortably under them."
"I could n't; I had to stoop. I hit my head
as it was." Kit's voice was growing steady, his
countenance more and more open, and now some-
thing like a smile lighted it up as he added: I
remember how the oyster-crackers spilled out of
my breast-pockets as I leaned over on the horse's
"We found oyster-crackers scattered on the
ground," said Lon, willing to corroborate this part
of the boy's story.
Why did n't you lead the horse out before you
mounted?" Mr. Benting inquired. "It seems to
me that that would have been the most natural
thing to do."
So it would. But the fellow who helped me
off had arranged everything. He did all he couldto
confuse me, and then he boosted me on the horse
and hurried me off before I could see through his
trick. Of course," Kit added, with beaming can-
dor, "if he had let me lead the horse out from
under the dark shed I should have noticed the
difference between him and our Dandy."
Is Dandy the name of your horse ? "
"Yes, sir; Dandy Jim. It's the name he had
when my uncle bought him." Kit smiled again.
"I don't suppose my uncle would have given a
hbrse such a name as that."
Why not? "
I can hardly explain. Only Uncle Gray is n't
the kind of man to think of that kind of name."
What sort of a man is he ? "
Rather serious; what you would call a prac-
tical man; not much nonsense about him."
It strikes me," remarked Mr. Benting, "that
such a man--a practical man, as you call him-
would have managed this affair a little differently
when he found that a boy acting for him had
brought home the wrong horse. I can hardly con-
ceive of his allowing you to come alone to return
"He would have come himself," replied Kit;
"he spoke of it-but he was sick this morning.
And as I had made the blunder, I thought that I
ought to correct it."
"What's his ailment? "
A peculiarly bright look flashed out of Kit's eyes
as he answered, using the flat, vernacular pro-
nunciation of the word:
'Azmy.' That's what Uncle and Aunt call it.
He was chilled by the damp air, when he went out
to look at the horse last night, and this morning
he had a bumble-bees' nest in his throat."

What does he do for his asthma ? Mr. Bent-
ing inquired.
He shuts himself up in his room and burns
an herb that has been steeped in saltpeter. The
smoke would kill me," Kit smiled again,- but
he thinks it cures him."
Mr. Benting had several more questions to ask
about the uncle and aunt, and the farm, and Kit's
father and mother; to all which he received such
prompt and natural replies, often spiced with
humor, that he was forced to conclude that so
much, at least, of the boy's story was not all
fiction. He then wished to know why Kit, who
claimed to have been on his way to Peace-
ville when captured, was first seen riding in the
other direction. That brought out the story of
the knife, which Mr. Benting asked to see. Ex-
amining it, he found the letters C. D. engraved
on the handle.
Are these your initials? he asked.
Yes, sir," replied Kit, who had already told
his name, first to the Benting boys, then to the
judge, and lastly to Mr. Benting himself. "They
were my father's initials, too; the knife used to
belong to him. I thought more of it for that rea-
son; I never supposed it would be the means of
getting me into trouble "
Mr. Benting gave back the knife; then he turned
to the judge.
I believe this is an honest boy," he said, "and
if you will fix his bail at a reasonable figure, I
will be his surety."
I am glad to hear it," said the judge, perhaps
almost as much on Kit's account as out of regard
for his dinner.
A bond was quickly filled out and duly signed;
and Kit, to his great joy, was declared free to pro-
ceed about his business until his presence should
be again required by the court.
"Now, the best thing you can do," said Mr.
Benting, "is to go home with me and stay till
you get over your fatigue and worry. I'l~ promise
you better treatment than you have received from
my boys hitherto."
Kit thought of Elsie and the charming old farm-
house at Maple Park, with a thrill of pleasant an-
ticipation. But the gleam that crossed his face
was quickly succeeded by shadow.
I should be very glad indeed to do that," he
replied. "But I must make one more attempt
to find my uncle's horse, before I go anywhere to
How will you begin?" asked Mr. Benting.
I shall go to Peaceville, where I certainly saw
him yesterday, and try to trace him from there.
If your sons," Kit added, with a glance at Lon,
will tell me all they found out about the fellow



they took to be my accomplice, and the horse he
had, which was our Dandy, they may help me
now as much as they have hindered me before."
The eldest of the brothers thereupon endeavored
to atone for the unintentional wrong they had done
their late captive, by giving a true account of their
adventure with Branlow the night before.
"After we heard that he and you had been seen
together, we believed that he was aiding and abet-
ting you; but we did n't follow him up. We left
that for a policeman to do, while we made haste to
hire another horse and get on the track of ours.
When we last saw your man, he was going off in a
buggy with the driver, who had bought your horse,
leading it by a halter to make a bill of sale of it,
they said."
Kit took the name of the policeman, who, he
was told, would probably be on duty that after-
noon, near the fair-ground entrance. He also
asked if Mr. Benting would have any objection to
giving him a line over his signature, stating that
his horse, supposed to be stolen, had been returned,
having been taken by mistake.
What do you want to do with such a writing
as that?" Mr. Benting asked, more and more
pleased with the boy's modest manners, intelli-
gence, and apparently honest intentions.
I want it to show, if there should be danger of
my being taken up a second time for the same im-
aginary offense," Kit answered, with shrewd good-
humor. Your policeman will probably recognize
me before I can explain myself; and he may clap
me into jail without believing a word of my story."
"I '11 make that all right," said his new friend.
Mr. Benting borrowed the judge's pen (the
judge had already escaped and gone to his roast
beef), and wrote a paper, which he handed Kit,
There II think that will keep you out of any
more such tangles. I hope you will find your
horse, and give us a call on your way back, or
whenever you come this way again."
He gave Kit his hand, with a pressure of the
most cordial interest and good-will. Then Tom
stepped up, and said: "There's a man out here
who lives two or three miles away, on the road to
Peaceville. He is just going to start for home,
and I think he will give this boy a ride. Sup-
pose you speak to him, Father."
The man, appealed to by the elder Benting,
readily consented; and Kit climbed into his

wagon, thankful enough for his release from court
and constable, and for this piece of good luck.
The brothers said good-bye to him in quite
friendly fashion; and Lon begged his pardon for
what he was now well convinced had been a blun-
der on their part.
It 's a blunder all around!" laughed Kit.
"And a fellow that can make blunders as fast as I
do, ought not to be very severe on others' mis-
Father and sons stood watching him as he rode
"If we had n't sent your hired horse back to
Peaceville this morning," Mr. Benting remarked,
" he might have had him to ride. It would have
been just the thing for him."
That reminded Lon of something.
"Ho! hallo!" he called after Kit. "How
about your saddle and bridle ? "
Everybody had forgotten these until that mo-
Keep 'em till I come for them," Kit answered,
looking back regretfully at the tall farmer stand-
ing with his sons, and remembering the invitation
he had declined,-an invitation which might have
taken him back to Maple Park and the friendly
So they returned home without him, and Char-
ley teased his sister with half the truth, as we have
seen; and her father told the rest.
The judge did commit him to jail, my dear;
but luckily I was there to offer bail for him before
he was locked up. And it is true,- I had only to
look at him to see the kind of character he is.
But it-would be better for the boys to say they
have come around to my opinion, than that I think
as they do about him. They think very differently
now from the way they thought at first. You were
quite right, Elsie, and they were quite wrong, or
I am nojudge of an honest boy."
So saying, Mr. Benting stepped from the buggy.
"And you have let him go free?" said the
delighted Elsie.
I suppose it will amount to that," replied her
father, "although he is under bonds to appear
again if the court wants him."
"Now why don't you 'crow' over us, Elsie?"
laughed Charley.
But Elsie, too deeply grateful for Kit's vindica-
tion and release, to think of her own triumph, had
no wish to "crow."

(To be continued.)



(From the French of Florian.)


ONCE on a time, in Kousistan, a Genie lived, whose name
Was Alzim: Money free he gave, and help to all who came;
But first each man must promise the Genie to obey;
To use the gifts and seek his wealth precisely in the way
The Genie said. No one could kneel before the Genie's
Until he swore his life should be controlled by him
There came to him, one day, four sons, whose
father, when he died,-
As they, grief-stricken, knelt by him,-with
his last breath had cried:
" The Genie Alzim will befriend you. Go
at once to him.
Beware, however," Here he
paused; his eye grew glazed and
dim ;
The hand of death his loving lips
sudden forever sealed;
What warning he had meant to
give could never be revealed.
The Genie's help in haste the sons
set out to seek and gain;
All Kousistan his palace knew -
the way was short and plain.
The oath required did not alarm
the elder brothers three;
They thought so kind a Genie full
of wisdom, too, must be.
Not so the youngest, Tii. He re-
membered very well
That all his life his father seemed
beneath some evil spell,
Though oft from Alzim's palace he
returned with gifts of gold.
So Tii stopped his ears with wax
and went in deaf and bold,
And with the rest knelt humbly
down; but not a single word
Of all the rules the Genie gave to
guide his life he heard.
Now this was what the Genie said,
in loving tones and sweet:
" Dear children, all your luck in life
depends on when you meet
A being named Bathmendi, whom .
the whole world seeks to know,
But few can find, because they never
choose right ways to go.
Now I, because I love you well, will whisper unto each
The road, by following which, he will Bathmendi surely reach."


885.] BATHMENDI. 509

To B6kir then, the eldest one, he said: My son, in you
Are courage and a hero's soul. The arts of war pursue!
Go join the Persian army now. The king is brave and kind.
Bathmendi in the Persian camp I guarantee you '11 find."

The second son, named Mesrou, then the Genie told to go
To Ispahan. "Your traits," he said, "are plainly such as show
A talent for success at court. Bathmendi waits you there."

To Sadder then, the third, he turned, with smiles and friendly air.
"And you," he said, "have fancy; see the world not as it is,
But painted as by poets. You will find your dream of bliss
In Agra, with the clever men and beauteous women, too.
In Agra's halls, my dear young friend, Bathmendi waits for you."

Thanks to the wax, young Tai heard no word the Genie spoke;
But never from his countenance his watchful gaze he took;
And frequent in the crafty eyes malicious gleams he saw,
Which made him glad that he was free from such a Genie's law.
Later, he heard it had to him been said that he must seek
Bathmendi in the dervish life devout and poor and meek.

His brothers now in feverish haste made ready to forsake
Their home, and instant search for that Bathmendi undertake.
Young Tai bought the house and fields and bade them kind farewell;
But what the thoughts were in his heart, he was too wise to tell.
Near by there dwelt the young Amine, beloved by Tiii long;
Amine was good and simple-souled, without a thought of wrong.
Each day she asked of God two things-to save her father's life
Long years, and grant that she might be young Tii's happy wife.
Amine and Tai wedded now. Their years flew by like days;
Amine's old father lived with them and taught them wisest ways
Of farming; flocks and herds increased, and children, too, apace;
The little house was running o'er-a happy, merry place.

Meantime, the elder brothers journeyed long and far and wide.
B6kir won fame; his bravery was heralded and cried
All Persia through. "Alzim was right," said B6kir; "here must be
The place in which Bathmendi waits to bring success to me."
Alas! poor B6kir soon he found what envy and what hate
For men who win such sudden fame must always lie in wait.
The Satraps league against him; soldiers played him false in fight;
With chains and fetters loaded down, in ignominious plight,
In deepest, darkest dungeons thrown, poor B6kir wept and sighed:
SAh me! I think base Alzim must malignantly have lied;
Bathmendi surely cannot come to seek and help me here "
Fifteen long years he languished thus, more wretched year by year;
At last, set free, he wandered forth, an outcast in the land,-
No friendly door to shelter him, no man to take his hand;
Unknown, forgotten, desperate, he sought the river's shore,-
Death seemed a blessed haven,'where he would not suffer more.

Sudden, upon the very brink, he found himself held fast;
A ragged beggar, bathed in tears, his arms around him cast,
Sobbing: It is my brother Brother B6kir, look on me !
Thou also, then, hast met with naught but want and misery !

" Oh, Mesrou," answered B6kir, clinging close in his embrace,
"This is my first true happiness since last I saw thy face!"

Then Mesrou told his story. 'T was like to B6kir's own.
"At first," he said, all prospered. I was nearest to the throne,
Prime Minister, and favorite. The court was at my feet.
Yet, strange to say, Bathmendi I could neither see nor meet.
But kings are weak and fickle. Courtiers plotted my disgrace;
'T was but a step from that to death: I fled the hated place;
Disguised in these repulsive rags, but safe, and free at last.
Together now, at peace will we forget our troubles past.
Safe sewed inside my inner vest I 've diamonds that will sell
For gold enough to buy a home, and always keep us well.
To Kousistan we will return, and live by Tai's side;
Wise Tdi who, with Alzim's gold, did-safe at home abide."

Their eager footsteps homeward, then, the gladdened brothers turned;
And more and more, each mile, their hearts with loving ardor burned.
The second day, at eve, they reached a little village town,
Which kept its summer holiday: processions up and down,
With songs and banners, all day long. Now, when the sun was low
They scattered, homeward going, with reluctant steps, and slow.
Leading a band of children, with his head sunk on his breast,
They saw a man whose bearing seemed unlike to all the rest.
Deep lost in thought he slowly walked, and never raised his eyes;
His face familiar looked; they paused, and gazed; oh, sweet surprise!
It was'their brother Sadder, lost to them so many years;
Into each other's arms they fell, with laughter, and with tears.

"How now!" cried B6kir. "Doth the world true genius thus neglect?"
" It seems," said Sadder, "valor wins but little more respect.
However, true philosophy finds food for ceaseless thought
In every chance; and wisdom true by smallest things is taught."
This. said, the children he dismissed, and led his brothers where,
In wretched hut, alone he lived, black bread his only fare.
The Genie Alzim, I suspect, delights in human woe,"
Said Sadder, after, they had supped. "You know he bade me go
To Agra, promising that thus I should Bathmendi find
Among the men and women there of learning and of mind.
I went. I took the place by storm. My book a furor raised.
The whole world read and talked of it, and everybody praised.
The Grand Mogul my patron was. I said 'Most surely I
Bathmendi soon will meet, and find some great felicity!'
Ha! in a day his mind the Sultan changed, and called me base;
To please a Vizier, jealous of his Sovereign's kindly grace.
He vowed he'd gladly order off my miserable head.
A slave I had befriended gave me warning, and I fled;
And after wandering for years, half starved, half dead with shame,
School-master to the peasants here most thankfully became."

Return with us," said Mesrou. I have diamonds which will keep
Us all in comfort in our home." Poor Sadder could but weep
His thanks for such deliverance.
At early dawn, next day,
The three, with joyous hearts, set out upon their homeward way.
As they their journey's end approached, and Tai's house was near,
Their hearts oppressed began to be, with doubt and anxious fear.




"Is Thi living? Is he poor? At any rate, we know
Bathmendi he cannot have found, because he would not go
In search of him."
Cried Sadder, then: "Dear brothers, list to me.
Long hours I pondered in the years of my adversity.
That being, called Bathmendi, I believe does not exist;
Else all these years we had not thus his face forever missed.
If B6kir, crowned with warrior's fame, and Mesrou, high at court,
And I, a Sultan's favorite, no rumor or report

Of such a being heard, 't is plain the treach'rous Alzim lied;
The falsehood served its purpose well his cruelty to hide.
Bathmendi is an empty dream, a name the world to cheat,
To ruin, luring all mankind by vain illusions sweet."

While yet he spoke, a robber band sprang from behind the trees;
With daggers at the brothers' throats, they forced them on their knees;
With mocking jests stripped off their clothes, and left them almost bare.
" Behold my illustration now," cried Sadder, shivering there.
" Alas, my diamonds," Mesrou wailed. The wretches Bekir said.
" They took my sword Without a sword one might as well be dead! "
The night came on; the luckless men beheld the shining light
From Tii's windows streaming out. Shame-stricken at their plight
They halted then, and wept afresh,-their hearts with terror cold.
At last, beneath a window lattice, B6kir, trembling, rolled

'A stone, and climbing, looked within. Oh, joy what sight was seen!
There Thi sat, at supper, with his lovely wife, Amine,
And a group of merry children, laughing hard as children can.
On Tii's left, there sat a smiling rosy faced old man,
Just turning round, his glass in hand, to Tai's health to drink.
With joyful cry leaped B6kir down, and, as you well may think,
He did not lose a minute ere upon that door he knocked.
A servant came, but screamed aloud, and ran back, scared and shocked.
But Tai knew his brothers, and embraced them o'er and o'er;
And clothed their shivering forms, and led them, glad, within the door,
And brought the children one by one to kiss them all around,
And proudly showed the sweet Amine.--"Ah, brother, you have found
True happiness," cried B6kir. "We have always wretched been;
And as for that 'Bathmendi,' him we have not even seen."
That is quite true," the rosy faced old man
exclaimed, with glee;
For all these years this happy place has been
a home for me."
What! You are, then, Bathmendi!" cried
the brothers, one and all;
And with embraces on his neck they quickly
ran, to fall.
Oh, gently gently he replied; "I 'm very
Sa I stifle if I am embraced. Moreover, one
must wait
STill friendship is assured before caresses can
My lasting friendship and esteem, if you de-
sire to win,
Abstain from busying yourselves with plans
and thoughts of me.
'T is worth to me far more than all polite-
ness to be free;
And everything immoderate is odious in my.
So saying, he, with distant bow, the brothers
bade good-night.
A good-night kiss placed gently on the fore-
head of each child,
To Amine, and to Thi, waved his hand and, turn-
ing, smiled.

Next day, glad Tiii showed his brothers all his flocks and fields;
And told them all the happiness a life of farming yields.
B6kir desired to try his hand at work that very day;
He was the first Bathmendi loved. The rest, by slower way,
Won his regard. Mesrou head shepherd of the flocks became.
The poet Sadder sold the wool, and won no little fame
By eloquence to customers.- So all their days sped on,
And, ere the year was out, all three Bathmendi's love had won.

They say a fable is but poor that leaveth aught to guess;
But I, perhaps, have made this dull, and hurt it more or less.
So I will add, "Bathmendi" means, in Persian,- "Happiness."







ONE of the first toys that little Boreas has is a
small bow of whalebone or light wood; and sitting
on the end of the snow bed he shoots his toy arrows,
under the direction of his father or mother or
some one who cares to play with him, at some-
thing on the other side of the snow. house. This
is usually a small piece of boiled meat, of which
he is very fond, stuck in a crack between the
snow blocks ; and if he hits it, he is entitled to eat
it as a reward, although little Boreas seldom needs
such encouragement to stimulate him in his plays,
so lonesome and long are the dreary winter days in
which he lives buried beneath the snow.
These toy arrows are pointed with pins; but he
is also furnished with blunt arrows, and whenever
some inquisitive dog pokes his head in the igloo
door, looking around for a stray piece of meat or
blubber to steal, little Boreas, if he shoots straight,
will hit him upon the nose or head with one of
the blunt arrows, and the dog will beat a hasty
retreat. In this sense, the little Eskimo boy has
plenty of targets to shoot at, for the igloo door is
nearly always filled with the heads of two or three
dogs watching Boreas's mother closely; and if she
turns her head or back for a moment, they will make
a rush to steal something, and to get out as soon as
possible, before she can pound them over the head
with a club that she keeps for that purpose.
In these exciting raids of a half-dozen hungry
dogs, little Boreas is liable to get, by all odds,
the worst of the encounter. He is too small to
be noticed, and the first big dog that rushes by
him knocks him over; the next probably rolls him
off the bed to the floor; another upsets the lamp
full of oil on him; and while he is reeking with
oil, another big dog, taking him for a sealskin full
of blubber, tries to drag him out, when his mother
happens to rescue him after she has accidentally
pommeled him two or three times with the club
with which she is striking at the dogs; and if it
were not for his hideous yelling and crying, one
would hardly know what he is, so covered is he
with dirt, grease, and snow. Thus the dogs occa-
sionally have their revenge on little Boreas for
whacking them over the nose with his toy arrows,
although this is not their object in rushing into the
igloo, for the real cause is their-ravenous hunger.
The duty of feeding the dogs is often intrusted
to the boys, and it is no easy work. The most

common food for the dogs is walrus-skin, about
an inch to an inch and a half thick, cut in strips
each about as wide as it is thick, and from a foot to
eighteen inches long. The dog swallows one of
these strips as he would a snake; and it is so tough
that when he has swallowed about twelve pieces,
it is no great wonder that he does not want any-
thing more for two days. Sometimes they cut the
food up into little pieces inside the igloo, where
the dogs can not trouble them, and then throw it
out-on the snow; but this is not altogether a good
way; for then the little dogs get it all while the
big dogs are fighting, for these big burly fellows
are sure to have an unnecessary row over each
feeding. If pieces too large to swallow at a gulp
are thrown out, the large dogs get the food; and
so, between the big dogs and the little ones, the
Eskimo boys have a hard time making an equal
distribution among the animals.
When they are anxious for a fair division, only
one dogat a time is let into the igloo, a couple of
boys standing at the door with sticks in their hands
to prevent the other dogs from entering. When it
is pleasant weather out-of-doors, they often build
a semicircular wall three or four snow blocks high.
and behind this a couple of men cut up the meat,
blubber, or walrus-hide, and allow but one dog at
a time to come in, three or four boys with long
whips, their lashes fifteen or twenty feet in length,
standing near the open part of the wall to keep the
ravenous pack from making a raid. Once or twice
I have known dogs to come bounding over the high
wall, crushing in the snow blocks on the men who
were chopping the meat, and stealing several
pieces before the boys had finished beating the
mingled dogs and men with their whips.
One winter night, I remember, while on our
sledge-journey, returning to North Hudson's Bay,
Toolooah was feeding his dogs, with no one to help
him. He was on his knees near the igloo door,
and throwing the bits to the various dogs, the heads
of which were crowded in the entrance, and he was
distributing the food as well as was possible under
the circumstances.: One big dog, which he could
not distinguish in the dark entrance, and which,
after it had received its share, had driven all the
other dogs away, seemed determined not to leave.
Toolooah grew angry, seized his stick and rushed
out after it to settle matters. But he came rush-
ing back even faster than he went out, seized
his gun hurriedly, and as hastily was gone again.

VOL. XII.--33.

* Copyright, by Frederick Schwatka, t885.


Before we could collect our thoughts in order, or
surmise what it all could mean, a shot was heard
outside, and in a few seconds more Toolooah came
crawling in, dragging a big wolf after him, its
white fangs showing in its black mouth in a way
that made us shudder. This was the big dog
Toolooah had been feeding, but it did not .under-
derstand the customs of the Eskimo dogs well
enough to know that it must stop eating when only
half satisfied; and this ignorance cost it its life.
The wolves of the Arctic, by the way, are much

The Eskimo boys have a way of playing at
musk-ox hunting that is very vigorous and earnest.
In April, 1879, when I was on a sledge-journey
to King William's Land, we came upon a herd
of musk-oxen that we had sighted the day before,
and after running them with dogs for a mile or two,
the herd was surrounded, or "brought to bay," as
hunters would say, and a number of the musk-
oxen killed. Of course we picked out some of the
handsomest robes and put them on our sledges,
and the next day we proceeded on our journey.

- -. >> -~I\


larger, more powerful and ferocious than those
seen in our country; and when pressed with hun-
ger, they do not hesitate at all to make a meal
off the Eskimo dogs, which they kill and eat at the
very door of the igloo, if not prevented in some
way. They are very much afraid of a bright
light, however, and they will not come around a
village or even a single igloo so long as they see
even a small flame, so that it is generally late in
the night, when the lamp is burning low or has
gone out, that they make their attacks on the
dogs, four or five of them often killing or maim-
ing two or three times as many dogs.

During that day we passed several musk-ox trails
in the snow, and it was very clear that we were in
a country where these animals were quite numer-
ous. After going into camp that evening between
two slight hills that sloped down to the lake, where
we cut through the ice to get our fresh water, there
was a time when it appeared that I was the only
person out-of-doors; all of the rest of the people
were inside the igloos, or snow huts, that had just
been built, arranging the reindeer skins for the bed-
ding for the night. Suddenly, I noticed one of
our best hunting-dogs (we had forty-two dogs alto-
gether) run excitedly over the hill, followed closely



by the remainder, one after the other. Then, to
my great surprise, I saw two musk-oxen run down
the farther ridge of the low hills; and the pack of

was in this case; as soon as they were to
windward" of the little snow village which we
were building, our keenest-scented dog, Parse-


howling, barking dogs soon brought them to bay
on the ice of the lake not fifty yards from where
the igloos were built. I acknowledge that I was
nearly as much excited as the dogs over this strange
and huge wild game, and I at once shouted in at
the entrance of my own igloo to my best Eskimo
hunter, Toolooah:
Oo-ming-muk oo-ming-muk / (Musk-
oxen musk-oxen !)
Toolooah seized his gun and ran to the tbp
of the nearest ridge, about twenty yards away,
followed by all the hunters in camp who had
heard my outcry. And then the whole band of
them sat down in a row on the ridge and laughed'
until the air was full of the reindeer hair shaken
from their coats in their convulsive mirth; for the
two musk-oxen proved to be only two musk-ox
robes that we had secured the day before, with a
boy or two under each robe !
These boys had procured the musk-ox robes
when the sledges were being unloaded, and had
slipped away, unperceived by any one, while the
men were building the snow houses. After wrap-
ping the robes around them they had come down
near the igloos, keeping on the windward side, or
that side of the camp where the wind blowing on
them must also pass over the camp. All my
boy readers know that if game or wild animals
thus pass near good hunting-dogs, the dogs will
"scent" them, as hunters would say. And so it

neuk, a beautiful curly-haired, sharp-eared, lithe-
built black fellow, that always led all chases after
swift game, smelt the musk-ox robes, and-with
his thoughts full of the day before, its exciting
chase, and, better than all, its good fine meal of
musk-ox meat-he dashed over the ridge to in-
vestigate. The result I have stated. The poor
dogs seemed as badly sold as I had been, for all
the camp had been drawn out by the excitement
and noise; and so long as the boys' kept the shag-
gy robes over their shoulders and faces, and kept
their backs together with their heads outward,
as do the musk-oxen themselves when surrounded
and brought to bay by wolves or dogs, our dogs
kept barking and snapping and jumping at them,
evidently thinking they were genuine musk-oxen,
and that there was a good prospect of another nice
dinner if they only kept the oxen from running
away until the hunters came up and killed them,
as in the case of the real musk-oxen.
A musk-ox resembles a buffalo in appearance,
except that the musk-ox has no "hump on its
shoulders, and the hair on its robe is two or three
times as long as that on the buffalo (or American
bison, as it should be called). In the winter-time
this long hair reaches down beyond the knees al-
most to the hoofs, and when the musk-oxen are
walking on the soft snow, they sink in so that you
can not see their legs at all. It was this long hair,
hanging down so low as to almost cover the legs


of the boys hidden underneath the robes, that had
so helped to deceive me when I first saw them,
and caused me to put the whole camp in an up-
roar and thereby fasten a very good joke on my-
self -a joke that clung to me a long time.
Toolooah, who was one of the most merry-
hearted and best-natured young Eskimo I ever
saw, and who, as I have told you, was my best
hunter, laughed until his sides were sore and his
eyes were red; and for several weeks after that he
would occasionally say "oo-ming-muk / and laugh
until the tears ran down his cheeks. It was not very

supposed prey, all the more fierce where there is
so unusual a number as forty-two dogs and but
two musk-oxen. Then with their toy arrows, which
are specially blunted for this rough play, the other
boys pelt the dangling robes in an earnest way that
must often make the boys under the robes smart
with pain, so heavily do the blunted arrows thud
against them; but these little savages expect their
plays to be very rough, and a whack over the
knuckles that would break up a whole base-ball
game of white boys, only brings out an emphatic
"I-yi!" (their ouch ") and the rough, harum-


often that they had a good joke on a white man,
and this one they seemed to enjoy to their hearts'
But the musk-ox hunt is not over yet for the
boys; in fact, the most exciting part is still to
come. As soon as the mock musk-oxen are
"brought to bay" by the excited and foolish
dogs, the other boys get their bows and arrows
and hurry to the spot, encouraging the dogs,
which have now become furious and wild, and
have formed a most ferocious circle around their

scarum game goes on. In a little while, the dogs
seem to comprehend that there is some foolishness
about the matter, and begin to drop off one by one,
in the order of their ability to see through the joke,
and finally the game dies a natural death for want
of the dogs and the noise and excitement which
contribute to it.
The boys' mock polar-bear hunt is so much like
their musk-ox hunt that a few lines will describe
it. One of the boys of the village gets a polar-
bear robe, and wrapping it around him after he is





out among the ice-hummocks about the
he comes crawling along some sledge-path
igloos, when he is discovered by the d
surrounded. This is likely to be much
sport than that of musk-ox hunting, for 1
take their spears and jab away at their
in the bear robe, until you would
think they would break some of
his ribs; while the dogs, embold-
ened by these supposed brave
advances, oftentimes take big
bites of fur from the dangling
edges of the robe. The mock
bear rears up on his hind feet
and growls in a very ferocious
manner, until, worn out at last
with his hard work and with
having his head so tightly covered
up with a heavy robe, he finally
falls over at some thrust of a spear
and pretends to expire. But the -
next moment he crawls out from
the robe, much to the disgust of
the dogs, with their hopes of a
fine meal of bear flesh.
It is no uncommon event for
a polar bear to prowl along the
ice-floes of the sea-coast, which
is its favorite walk, until it finally
stumbles on an Eskimo village;
and if the dogs see it or smell
it, it is very apt to be brought to
bay near by, and then killed by
some of the native hunters who
have been alarmed by the noise
and outcry. A fair fight on the
open ice with a large polar bear
is somewhat dangerous, for if
severely wounded it may tear
the hunter to pieces. The Eskimo
seldom wound any dangerous ani-
mals, for, being a very brave peo-
ple,-that is, personally brave,
they generally go so close that, _-Yj
unless some accident with the
fire-arms happens, the animal,
whether it is bear or musk-ox, is
usually killed at the first shot.
I once found an old Eskimo
hunter, however, in my camp in
North Hudson's Bay, whose hair
and scalp had been taken com-
pletely off by the bite of a wounded beai
had endeavored to kill; and Toolooah onc,
a big bear, with too hasty an aim, hoping
one of his dogs that the bear had under i
He only wounded .the huge animal, which i

---=~c -


charged him, and was only killed by a lucky shot
just as it was close upon the hunter.
Toolooah told me that he has seen polar bears
climb up places so steep and perpendicular that
the natives could not follow them without cutting
in the wall of ice niches wherein to put their hands



and feet, and even in some instances, an ice-wall
so high that the hunters dared not attempt to climb
it on account of the danger of slipping and killing
themselves. A British explorer of the Arctic regions
says that he once climbed to the top of an iceberg,



and there found a big white bear sleeping away,
in quiet possession. The bear, on discovering the
party, jumped over the perpendicular side of the,
ice mountain, fifty-one feet, into the sea, and swam
to the nearest land, which was more than twenty
miles away.
The polar bears live on seal and walrus, crawling
stealthily up to the former on the ice-floes and
catching them; while of the walrus only the
young are thus caught, for an old walrus is

twice as big as Bruin. Some Arctic explorers,
however,-Captain Hall and Dr. Rae among
others,-state that the bears sometimes surprise
an old walrus by climbing above him on a pre-
cipitous hill, or the walls of an iceberg, and then
taking stones or huge pieces of ice in their fore-
paws and throwing them with such force as to
crack the walrus's skull as he lies asleep or at rest
on the ice. Then the bears spring down on the
stunned walrus and finish him.

(A Series of Brief Papers concerning the Great Musicians.)



PROBABLY no musician has a closer hold on
the hearts of English-speaking people than Georg
Friedrich Handel.
He was born at Halle, in Saxony, February 23,
1685. Unlike most of the great musicians, Handel
does not seem to have inherited his talent; his
father was a barber and surgeon, and nowhere in
the family can we discover any special love for
Handel, however, seems to have been "a born
musician "; he turned everything he touched into
sound. For some time he astonished and amused
his parents and all who heard him; but as his
love for music seemed ever to grow within him,
his father, who had destined him for the law,
banished every musical instrument from the house,
and declared that the boy should hear no more
of them. The boy, however, managed to smuggle
a clavier* into the house, and hid it in the attic;
and night after night, when all in the house were
asleep, he practiced on the muffled keys, teaching
himself until he could play upon it with much skill.
About this time his father decided to visit a rela-
tive attached to the household of the Duke of Sax-
ony at Wessenfels. The Duke was very devoted
to music, and Handel, who had probably learned
this fact, implored his father to take him, too;
but in vain. Nothing daunted by the denial, the
persistent little fellow ran after the carriage until
his father discovered him and took him in. He
became a great favorite at Wessenfels, and one
Sunday afternoon, after the choir had finished
singing, the organist lifted the child to the stool
and told him to play; and play he did, with so
much expression and delicacy, that the Duke de-

manded his name, and sent for his father. He
begged the latter to give up the project of making
a lawyer of his son, predicted a brilliant future
for him if his musical genius were cultivated, and
sent the child away with his pockets filled with
coin, and the father converted to the idea of a
musical education for his son.
Arriving at Halle, the father placed Handel
under the instruction of Friedrich Zachau, who
taught the lad the organ, harpsichord, violin, coun-
terpoint, and fugue, besides all his musical studies.
He also entered the Latin school, where he made
rapid progress in every branch he undertook. He
worked very diligently at his music, always com-
posing some work for the organ each week. At
the end of three years Zachau declared that his
pupil knew all he could teach him, and advised
that young Handel be sent to Berlin to study; so
at the age of eleven the boy found himself in
Berlin, where his clavichord-playing caused a great
sensation. Here, among other composers, he saw
much of Attilio Ariosti and Giovanni Buononcini,
both of whom he was to meet later under far
different circumstances. Ariosti took great interest
in the child, giving him little hints about his music,
and delighting to hear him improvise. Buononcini,
on the contrary, was envious of the little fellow,
and determined he would hear no more of his
praises. In order to crush him, he composed a
cantata filled with difficulties that would have taxed
an artist, and handing it to the boy, he told him
to play it at sight, thinking thus to humiliate him.
To his surprise Handel executed it, not only with
ease, but with all the polish of a veteran musician.
The Elector of Hanover recognized his genius, and
offered to send him to Italy to complete his musical
education, but his .father declined the kind offer,

* The clavier is the key-board of a clavichord, organ, or pianoforte.




and the boy returned home, where, soon after,
the father died. Meantime Handel kept on at
school, distancing all his school-mates as a Latin
scholar, and worked at his music, composing and
practicing. In his eighteenth year he accepted a
position as organist at the cathedral in Halle, play-
ing the organ at the services, instructing the choir
in vocal music, and setting -many parts of the
service to music. At the end of a year his en-
gagement ended, and he determined. to seek his
fortunes. He had nothing but genius and good-
will; but that was capital enough for the ambitious
youth, who felt that he should some day write
music that would be heard by the world. He
arrived at Hamburg, the city in which he had
determined to settle, and soon obtained a posi-
tion as second violinist in the orchestra of the
opera house. Here he formed an intimacy with a
tenor of the opera named Mattheson, who says:
" At this time Handel pretended he was a know-
nothing, and acted as if he could not count five;
but one night when the harpsichord player was
absent, he slipped into his place and so performed
that all knew him for the man I had long felt him
to be."
Shortly after this Mattheson and Handel had a
quarrel, which resulted in a duel, but fortunately
neither of the men was hurt.
Handel's first opera was produced at this time,
and met with very great success; it was followed
by two more, which were received with the same
unbounded enthusiasm, and his fame soon spread
throughout Germany.
In 1706 he started for a tour through Italy,
visiting all of'the principal cities. While there
he was constantly composing, and his operas were
publicly produced as fast as he could write them.
His visit was one continued triumph, and praise
and honors came to him from all.
At the end of three years he decided to return
to Germany and to accept a position as Capell-
meister to the Elector of Hanover, on condi-
tion that, before assuming his new duties, he
should be allowed a year's leave of absence to
visit England. This was readily granted, and in
the winter of 1710 he arrived at London, the city
which was to be his real home and the scene of
his greatest work. At this time the musical taste
of the public' was at a low ebb; Italian operas
held the stage, and these only of the poorest kind.
The people, therefore, were delighted with Handel's
music, and he met with instant success.
The first opera which he produced was his
"Rinaldo," written by him in twenty-seven days;
it charmed the public, and everywhere the airs
were whistled, sung, and played. He received
every kind of attention, and became the idol of

the public. But among all his experiences at this
time, none was more singular than his acquaintance
with Thomas Britton. This remarkable man car-
ried a coal-sack on his shoulder all day, and at
night pored over books until he had educated him-
self. Music, however, was his favorite pursuit, and
this brought him into contact with Handel. His
house was very old and shabby; it was entered by
outside steps, which were almost a ladder; within,
the ceilings were so low that one could touch them;
but here Britton lived with his books and his music,
and here he entertained cultivated people, evening
after evening, with music, conversation, and coffee.
Here Handel delighted to go, and when he did so
he would play on the harpsichord almost the entire
evening. At length Handel's year was up, and
he left London very reluctantly and to the regret
of the whole people.
After returning to Germany he found his heart
was still in London, and he again obtained per-
mission to visit England. This he did in 1712.
During the following year he wrote an ode for
Queen Anne's birthday, a Te Deumz and Jubilate,
all of which met with unbounded appreciation.
With London at his feet, how could Handel re-
turn to Hanover? And so he overstaid his leave
and lingered on, until, in 1714, Queen Anne died
and the Elector, Handel's master, ascended the
English throne as George I.
Handel was now in much distress as to the action
the King might take in regard to him, but he had
kind friends at court, who brought his own music
to his aid to relieve his distress.
Hearing that the King intended taking an excur-
sion on the Thames, Handel wrote the Water
Music," which was played on the boat following
the King. The latter was charmed with the strains
and wished to know the composer. One of Handel's
friends told the King, begging him to forgive the
composer for his fault. The King pardoned him
on the spot, and in token of his forgiveness added
two hundred pounds a year to his pension.
During the next year Handel visited Hanover,
and on his return to England, accepted a position
as director at the private chapel of the Duke of
Chandos. Besides playing on the organ and train-
ing the choir, he worked industriously at writ-
ing, composing constantly Te Deums, anthems,
and even producing an oratorio. In 1720 he ac-
cepted the directorship of the Royal Academy of
Music; some of Handel's compositions were sung,
and for a long time the operas were very success-
ful, and Handel ruled everything. But in an evil
hour for him, Ariosti and Buononcini were invited
to London to compose for the Academy. It was
suggested that each of the three composers should
write an act of a new opera. Handel's was incom-




parably superior, and his rivals became very jeal-
ous; each composer had his supporters, who were
very bitter partisans, and party spirit ran high.
The feud gave rise to the following little epigram:

Some say, compared to Buononcini,
That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny;
Others aver that he to Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle;
Strange all this difference should be
'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee!"

The three composers continued to write for the
Academy until 1728, when, after an unsuccessful
season, the Society failed. Handel now determined
to conduct in a theater of his own; and for some
years he met with varying success, at one time draw-
ing brilliant audiences, at others seeming almost
forgotten by the public. His health at last gave
way, and, ruined in purse, he severed all connec-
tion with the theater. He now began to compose
those mighty works on which his fame rests. In
1740 his Israel in Egypt," which he had written
in twenty-seven days, was performed and proved
a failure. After the first night it was announced
that Italian choruses would be mingled with the
oratorio, but even this proved unsuccessful, and
after the third performance it was withdrawn. One
can only pity a public that could not appreciate
these sublime creations. The tireless composer
continued to write, and during this same year set to
music, among other poems, Milton's "L'Allegro"
and "I Penseroso."
But Handel still longed for appreciation, and
he determined to accept the oft-repeated invita-
tions he had received to visit Ireland. He
remained there two years, during which time
he received an ovation from the Irish public,
which appreciated and loved his works. There his
"Messiah," the best loved of all his oratorios,
was first given to the world. When first sung
in England, it produced a great effect on all
who heard it, and as the "Hallelujah Chorus"
first broke upon the audience, the King and people
involuntarily rose to their feet,-a tribute to genius
which still remains, and to this day every one
stands when the Hallelujah Chorus is sung.
After his return to London Handel once more
assumed the management of a theater, and again
he failed. From this time he devoted himself to

composition until his blindness came upon him in
1752. Still, he presided at the organ when any
of his oratorios were sung. When "Samson"
was first given after his blindness, and the singer
came to the lines:

"Total eclipse, no sun, no moon,
All dark amid the blaze of noon,"

Handel trembled, and many in the audience were
moved to tears. He lingered on a few years longer
and conducted a performance of the "Messiah"
for the last time, on April 6, 1759, and died on
April 14.
Handel was tall and dignified in appearance,
with a strong, beautiful smile, which lighted his
countenance when he was pleased. He wore a
white wig which always nodded when the per-
formance went well. He was a highly educated
man, speaking French and Italian, and having a
fine taste for pictures. He was very humorous, and
it is said that had ours been his native language,
he would have left behind him many witty sayings.
His improvisations on the organ were wonderfully
beautiful; his playing on the harpsichord and organ
was excelled by that of only one man in his day,-
Sebastian Bach.
Great, however, as was Handel's execution, his
real field was in oratorio, and it is for his achieve-
ments in this direction that he is loved by the
whole English-speaking people, and for this they
love to call him theirs. And he is an English-
man in everything but birth. His life was passed
in England, he was English in his tastes, and was
molded by English influences. He wrote fqr the
English people, and they now, above every other
nation, love and appreciate his works. It is inter-
esting to contrast him with the illustrious Bach,
who has never been appreciated by the people,
while every musician has mastered him as the
A, B, C of music, without which nothing can be
done. Handel, on the contrary, speaks to all, and
will never cease to appeal to the highest emotions
of those who hear his mighty works, but he has
never influenced the history of music. It seems as
if he had pushed oratorio to its highest limit, and
as if his work in this field, like Beethoven's in
symphony, can never be excelled in the future, as
it has never been excelled in the past.





ONE evening, with the falling dew,
Some Brownies 'round a cottage drew,
And, while they strolled about the place
Or rested from their recent race,
Said one: "I 've learned the reason why
We miss the Biddy, Biddy !' cry,
That every morning brought a score
Of fowls around this cottage door;
'T is rheumatism most severe
That keeps the widow prisoned here.
And brushes, brooms, and mops around,
An unaccustomed rest have found.
Her sheep go bleating through the field,
In quest of salt no herb can yield,

To early roost the fowls withdraw
With drooping wings and empty craw,
While sore neglect you may discern
On every side, where'er you turn.
Her neighbors' eyes, at times like these,
Seem troubled with some sad disease
That robs them of the power to spy
Beyond where private interests lie.
If help she finds in time of need,
From Brownies' hands it must proceed.'
Another said: "The wool, I know,
Went through the mill a month ago.
I saw her when she bore the sack
Up yonder hill, a wondrous pack



That caught the branches overhead,
And round her heels the gravel spread.
The oily rolls are somewhere nigh,
And waiting for the spindle lie.
On these we might our skill have shown,
But trouble never flies alone;

A passing goat, with manners bold,
Mistook it for a rival old,
And knocked it 'round for half an hour
With all his noted butting power.
They say it was a striking scene,
That twilight conflict on the green;
The wheel was resting on the shed,
The frame around the garden spread,
Before he seemed to gain his sight,
And judge the article aright."
A third remarked: I call to mind
Another wheel that we may find,
Though somewhat worn by use and time,
It seems to be in order prime;
Now, night is but a babe as yet,
The dew has scarce the clover wet;

Her spinning-wheel is lying there
In fragments quite beyond repair.
It happened in this tragic way:
While standing out at close of day,

By running fast and working hard
We soon can bring it to the yard;
Then stationed here in open air
The widow's wool shall be our care,


And all we meet with, high or low,
We '11 leave in yarn before we go."

This suited all, and soon with zeal
They started off to find the wheel;
Their course across the country lay
Where great obstructions barred the way;

And band and fixtures, all complete;
And soon beneath the trying load
Were struggling on the homeward road.

They had some trouble, toil, and care,
Some hoisting here, and hauling there;
At times, the wheel upon a fence

But Brownies seldom go around
However rough or wild the ground.
O'er rocky slope and marshy bed,
With one accord they pushed ahead,-
Across the tail-race of a mill,
And through a churchyard on the hill.
They found the wheel, with head and feet,

Defied them all to drag it thence,
As though determined to remain
And serve the farmer, guarding grain.
But patient head and willing hand
Can wonders work in every land;
And cunning Brownies never yield,
But aye as victors leave the field.



Some ran for sticks, and some for pries,
And more for blocks on which to rise,
That every hand or shoulder there,
In such a pinch might do its share.
Before the door they set the wheel,
And near at hand the winding reel,
That some might wind while others spun,
And thus the task be quickly done.
No time was wasted, now, to find
What best would suit each hand or mind,

Their mode of action and their skill
With wonder might a spinster fill;
No forward step or two, then back,
With now a pull and now a slack,
But out across the yard entire
They spun the yarn like endless wire,-
Beyond the well with steady haul,
Across the patch of beans and all,
Until the walls, or ditches wide,
A greater stretch of wool denied.

But here and there, with common bent,
In busy groups to work they went.
Some through the cottage crept about
To find the wool and pass it out.
With some to turn, and some to pull,
And some to shout, "The spindle 's full! "
The wheel gave out a droning song,-
The work in hand was pushed along.

The widow's yarn was quickly wound
In tidy balls, quite large and round.
And ere the night began to fade,
The borrowed wheel at home was laid,
And none the worse for rack or wear,
Except some bruises here and there,
A spindle bent, a broken band,
The owner failed to understand.





A TINY little seed am I,
In the mold,
Hidden from the great blue sky
And the cold.

Now I '11 throw a rootlet out,
Feel around.-

There! I 've really turned about
In the ground!

Did I hear a bluebird sing?
Could it be?
If I did, it must be spring,-
I '11 go see!





THE animals all have vocations of some kind.
From the largest elephant to the smallest insect
they have a certain work to perform that is of
more or less importance in making all life move
along harmoniously. And it is sometimes curious
to see how exactly our trades are imitated by them.
We see the carpenter-bee working in wood, also
numerous beetles and ants and the sexton-beetles
burying the dead of insects; the snails and ants are
miners, the Pholas even carrying a miner's lamp;
the birds build wonderful structures, and can fitly
claim to be architects. And so we might go on
through a long list of workers in metal, wood, or

clay; while others are kings, queens, laborers,
slaves, soldiers, navigators, and what not.
But it is with some curious animal hunters, or
trappers, that we wish just now to become better
acquainted. In human endeavors to capture
game, a variety of traps and devices are brought
into use. Sometimes great nets are used to
ensnare birds, and pitfalls to lure larger game,
while the sportsman, hidden by a mimic forest,
floats down unsuspected upon the wild water-birds.
But of all these devices, and many more, we find
exact counterparts among the lower animals; either
we imitate them or they us,- who shall say ? And


~I ~

!.,'~ ..- ]~'j~, .r,



now for the comparison. We have spoken of the
hunter who surrounds himself by bushes,-well,
there is an insect that imitates the twigs and
branches themselves, and so creeps upon its game.
Various insects of the genus Mantis are found
throughout the world, and are very common
in our Middle States, specimens often being seen
on the fences standing perfectly still, with their
great claws lifted high in air, exactly as if they were
praying; and from this peculiarity they are called
the "Praying Mantis." Similar names are given
to this insect in France and Italy. The Hottentots
worship the mantis as a divinity; and if one alights
upon a person, he or she is looked upon ever after
as a saint. Notwithstanding all this, the mantis is
a cowardly, treacherous hunter. It resembles the
twigs and boughs upon which it crawls, both in
color and shape; and when a smaller insect ap-
proaches, it creeps along with a stealthy, cat-like
motion and suddenly seizes the victim with its
knife-like claws. In South America they attain a
large size, and, according to Burmeister, the Mantis
of the Argentine Republic even captures smallbirds
if they happen to dart too near it.
Even among themselves these insects are vicious
and cannibalistic, fighting upoa the slightest prov-
ocation. The Chinese even keep them in bamboo
cages, and exhibit them as prize-fighters. In their
combats their movements are those of a swords-
man; blows are given with their sword-like fore
legs, and a vigorous battle kept up until one suc-
cumbs, when the victor devours his vanquished
enemy then and there.
In Africa, deep pits are often made by human
hunters to capture game, and among the insects

-'.4, t-.

- - ,.. I -

t -


we find the ant-lion (lWyrmeleon) adopting a simi-
lar ruse. Its eggs are laid in sandy places, and
when the young ant-lions appear they have no
wings, and are flat little creatures with immense

jaws. As soon as born, the curious larve proceed
to work. Each young ant-lion selects a soft place
in the sand, and by turning itself around and
around, it traces an exterior circle; and by contin-
uing the spiral motion, and gradually retreating to
the center, it marks out and forms a cavity having
spirals like those of a snail shell. Next, these are
smoothed downby an ingenious process. If a pebble
rolls in, or is found in' the slope, the ant-lion places
it upon its head, and with a sudden jerk sends it far
out of the pit. But sometimes pebbles are found
that are too heavy to be thrown out in this way, and
then another plan is adopted. The pebble is care-
fully rolled upon the flat back of the ant-lion, which
starts up the incline with its tail high in air, so that
the load is kept upon a level, and finally deposited
upon the outside. If the pebble is round, many
attempts have to be made; and an ant-lion has been
seen to make seven or eight trials to carry out a
pebble, each time carefully following up the track
made by the pebble in rolling down, only finally, as
if mortified by constant failure, giving it up and
seeking another spot. The pit completed is seen
to be a circular or conical depression, at the bottom

rt^'i :_1:%

-. ? ^ ; ,




of which the wily hunter conceals itself, only its silk, erects a long web, and then patiently awaits the
jaws and many eyes being visible; and here it entanglement of some luckless insect. At the first
awaits its prey, that sooner or later comes tumbling break of day the web is taken down, the trap-door
in. Ants that happen to be off on a foraging jour- lowered, and nothing is seen of the spider until the
ney are the most frequent victims. The ant comes evening. Other spiders leap after their prey like
running along rapidly, and is over the edge of the tigers, first attaching a single thread of silk to the
pit before he knows it, the treacherous sand giving starting-point-by which, if they fail to strike the
way and precipitating him down toward the con- victim, they swing off and return up the thread, to
cealed lion. A moment more and two (to him) make the attack anew. Others entangle their prey,
enormous jaws open, and the ant quickly disap- rolling them over and over and winding them in
pears from sight forever. Sometimes, instead of silk, in which they are kept till wanted. Small
tumbling down into the pit, the ant obtains a foot- snakes, lizards, and various tiny animals are thus
hold and almost escapes; but in such a case the caught, and, though weighing vastly more than
ant-lion throws aside all concealment, rushes out, their captors, are lifted clear of the ground into
and shovels sand upon its struggling victim, and by the fairy-like nets.
successive jerks bombards it with such a fusillade The largest web of which I ever heard, how-
of sand that, beaten and confused, it rolls down ever, is not a trap, and is built by the larva of a
into the open jaws of the cruel hunter. For two butterfly from Australia. A lady, observing the
years the ant-lion carries on its predatory war- insects, placed a number of them in a room upon
fare, gradually growing larger and enlarging its her veranda. Having to use the apartment some
pit, until finally it is ready to change into a chrys- time after, she found, to her astonishment, that
alis. It then envelops itself in a round ball of sand, the walls were completely covered by a beautiful,
cemented together by fine silken cords. In this uniform web, attached at the corners by coarse
cocoon it lives for about three weeks, when it threads, so that it hung like a tapestry of silvery
emerges a perfect four-winged insect resembling sheen, presenting an unbroken surface of about
the dragon-fly. two hundred and fifty-two square feet, a wonderful
The dragon-flies themselves are bold and vora- work for a few little creatures, each hardly five-
cious hunters, and with their gauzy, lace-like wings, twelfths of an inch long.
brilliantly colored bodies. and rapid flight, are In some of the islands of the Pacific, webs have
among the most beautiful of the insect tribe, been found in which living birds were entangled,
Grubs, butterflies, insects of all kinds,
are their legitimate prey, and in New
Zealand the giant dragon-fly has been
observed chasing small fresh-water
fishes about in a shallow pond, mak-
ing desperate dashes at them, finally
seizing one by its upper or dorsal fin,
and amid repeated duckings and strug-
gles bearing it away to a neighboring
bush to be devoured, after the manner
of the kingfishers. Gosse, the English
naturalist, observed a similar instance
in Alabama. The winged fisherman -
a large dragon-fly-was seen chasing
the affrighted fishes, dashing into the
water with a splash, the finny preyrush-
ing about in terror, soon congregating,
however, to be again attacked by the
swift-winged hunter, which finally se-
cured one of them. The larva of the .-
dragon-fly live under water and are
extremely voracious, often capturing THE PERIPATUS CAPTURING AN INSECT IN ITS WEB. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
small fishes with their powerful jaws.
The webs of many spiders are really very sim- and in Bermuda, other kinds of webs, the threads
ilar to the traps of professional bird-catchers in the of which were so stout that they have been used as
East. One of the trap-door spiders comes out of its sewing-silk. For many years the account given by
nest at dusk, fastens back the door with a cord of Madame M erian of the spider that hunted birds and


lizards was not believed, but Mr. H. W. Bates, the
naturalist, has observed a similar instance in Brazil,
that can not better be told than in his own words :
"In the course of our walk, I chanced to verify a
fact relating to the habit of a large hairy spider,
belonging to the genus Mygale, in a manner worth
recording. The species was Mygale avicularia,
or one very closely allied to it; the spider was
nearly two inches in length of body, but the legs
expanded seven inches, and the entire body and
head were covered with coarse gray and reddish
hairs. I was attracted by a movement of the
monster on a tree-trunk; it was close beneath a
deep crevice in the tree, across which was stretched
a dense white web. The lower part of the web

was broken, and two small birds--finches--were w
entangled in the pieces. One of them ri
was quite dead. .. I drove away the spi- tl
der and took the birds, but the second one soon
died. I found the circumstance to be quite a
novelty to the residents hereabout," who were far
from being afraid of the spider, allowing their
children to tie a string about the body of the
giant Mygale and lead it about as one would a
cat or dog. They called them
"Aranhas carangueijeiras," or
"Crab Spiders."
A very curious hunter, if so
we may call it, is seen in the F
Peripatus--a caterpillar-shaped .
insect, found in Panama, at the
Cape of Good Hope, and in other
countries. They are sluggish, .-
though possessing seventeen legs,
each provided with a pair of short '.
claws for clinging. They are
mainly vegetable eaters, but
they have a wonderful web-

making ar-
by which
.they are en-
abled to
check the
advance of
an enemy at
a moment's
glands se-
creted near
the mouth,
they eject at
the slightest


ads of fine
reads of a

t / 'ck ," ecret ,,-r.

cross each other like
liquid darts in the
air, crystallizing im-
S mediately and form-
Sing a complete web
in front of the cater-
pillar. This web solidifies about
S any unfortunate insect, securing
it by almost invisible bands, until
the unwieldy Peripatus, when disposed, breaks
in and dines upon it. The web is often thrown
out when the animal is touched or alarmed,
and as.it is acid and bitter: it must be an
effective defense, and fatal-to many insects
and small animals.
Gathering fruit can scai-ely be called trap-
ping, and yet there is a stratagem attributed to
that "walking bunch of tooth-picks" called the
hedgehog, which may properly have a place in
this article. It seems that fruit is frequently
found in the hedgehog's sleeping apartment,
and its presence there is explained in this re-
markable way: It is known that hedgehogs often
climb walls, and run off upon -low boughs, and
instead of scrambling down in the same manner,
they. boldly make the leap from the top to the
ground, sometimes ten or twelve feet. They
coil into a ball in the air, strike upon their armor
of spines, and bound away unharmed. In tak-
ing this jump, they have been seen to strike
upon fallen fruit, which, thus impaled upon their
spines, was carried away by them; and this has
given rise to the opinion that in some such way
they may have stored their winter homes.






A LARGE, home-like room. A few cases of
books line the walls, the furniture is somewhat
threadbare, and the carpet decidedly the worse
for wear; a long table strewn with school-books,
slates, and pencil-ends occupies the foreground,
and a student lamp sheds its mild light over the
inky table-cover. The fire-place is black and
dreary, and the only really cheerful object in the
room is the face of a girl of sixteen, with dark hair
and blue eyes, who sits busily engaged in painting.
A bright smile lights her thoughtful face as her
hand moves rapidly yet carefully, working out the
details of her design.
Another girl, twelve years old, kneels on a chair,
resting her head on her hands and her elbows on
the table. Her bright hair falling over her face partly
conceals her troubled look; but one can see that
her forehead is contracted by a frown and her eyes
glisten with hardly suppressed tears. She pushes
her book away from her and drums impatiently on
the table. The elder girl continues her painting,
singing softly to herself, and pays no attention to
the various signs of vexation displayed by her little
sister. At last she looks up and says, rather
"Well, Katie, what is it?"
This question is a great relief to Katie, as it
gives her an opportunity to vent her injured
"You know what it is, just as well as I do,
Alice. All the girls are going back to school this
year, and I just long' to go I can't study alone;
no one will ever hear my lessons or take, any inter-
est in them. I shall fall far behind the other girls,
and you know I was at the head nearly all last
winter. Oh, dear, why can't I go back?"
Then Katie's tears overflowed and trickled down
upon the tattered arithmetic over which she had
been puzzling.
Alice well knew how hard it was for the am-
bitious little girl to be withdrawn from school for a
whole year and left to her own devices, without the
society of her beloved "girls"; so that when she
spoke, it was quite gently and as though to appeal
to Katie's reason and common sense, which had
been somewhat clouded by her disappointment.
"Birdie," said Alice, laying down her brush,
you know perfectly well that it is impossible for

you to go back to school,-at least, for this term.
You know that Papa has been unfortunate in busi-
ness, and we all must make some sacrifices to help
him, and the little mother. I know it 's very
hard for you to give up your school, but then you
are only a little girl, and one year does n't make
so much difference. You can work faithfully by
yourself, and make up for lost time next winter.
We all will help you as much as we can. I do feel
sorry for you, but, since we must make sacrifices,
why not make them cheerfully ? They're so much
nicer that way."
Katie, or, as her sister calls her, Birdie, has
slipped down from her chair during Alice's little
lecture, and she now stands beside her sister, who
puts one arm around her, and, looking up from her
half-finished drawing into Birdie's face, says:
Well, little one, what do you think of it? "
And Birdie, whose tears are almost dry, and who
is already ashamed of her outburst, answers:
I think it 's lovely, Alice, and I do hope they
will give you a prize. They ought to, I'm sure."

A large publishing house had offered three
prizes in money for the three best original designs
for Christmas-cards received in answer to their
announcement; and for one of these prizes Alice
Browning was working. It seemed almost im-
possible to make any novel or appropriate design,
and Alice had taken up the matter at first, simply
with a view to amusing herself, and thinking that it
would be good practice. She had little hope that
she could produce anything sufficiently good to
really enter into the prize competition. But grow-
ing interested in her work, as was her custom (for
she was an earnest little maid), Alice expended
all her ingenuity and much patient skill upon the
elaboration of her subject. As she possessed a
good degree of imagination.and considerable talent
for drawing figures, her efforts were really very suc-
cessful. Her elder brother and sister, seeing how
much taste and cleverness her drawing displayed,
urged her to send it in on the day appointed for
judging the cards and.awarding the prizes.
As Alice worked, she could not help building
many bright castles in the air, though she wor-
ried much over what she considered her faulty


VOL. XII.-34.

See page 554-


Alice was right when she said that many sacri-
fices must be made, because of the family's heavy
losses; and Katie, feeling the truth of this, made
a resolute, though not invariably successful effort
to show a bright and happy face to her care-worn
father. She had, indeed, some shining exam-
ples before her. First, there was her Mother, who
tried to make home all the brighter after her hus-
band's misfortunes; and big brother Charlie (the
clever man of the family), who gave up, in his
quiet way, his most cherished plans, and set to
work with a will, down-town; and sister Annie,
who countermanded her orders for new dresses,
and betook herself instead to making over her old
ones and those of her sisters. (Annie's merry voice,
her busy fingers, and her fair musical talent did
much toward making the family circle jollier).
Then there was sister Alice's outwardly willing giv-
ing up of her painting lessons (which was not accom-
plished, however, without many inward struggles);
and last, but not least, the bluff light-heartedness
of-her younger brothers, Phil and Harry, who
considered it beneath their dignity as boys and
as twins to give way to useless repinings and
Three days after Alice's conversation with her
younger sister, the Christmas-card was finished,
carefully sealed up by Charlie, and carried to its
destination by Alice. She had worked over her
drawing with such care that every little, well-known
defect stood out prominently in her memory, and
she parted with it with many misgivings. She
must wait three weeks to hear the result, and long
before the time was up, Alice had quite given up
any hope that she would ever hear of her design
But it was otherwise decreed; and one day Alice
received a letter from the publishers, notifying her
that on account of the originality displayed in her
work and its conscientious treatment, her design
had taken -the second prize in the Christmas-
card competition, and inclosing a check for one
hundred and fifty dollars, the amount of the
If you have ever earned any money yourself, you
will be able to imagine Alice's feelings when she
opened that envelope and read the brief, business-
like note. I am sure that no girl was ever happier
than she was at that moment, and certainly no
family was ever prouder than Alice's family when
they heard of her success. Mr. Browning's face
wore a brighter look than it had had for manyweeks.
Annie said "I knew you would get it, Alice; I 'm
so glad and Katie and the twins gave boisterous
expression to their satisfaction. Charlie read the
letter aloud, to the delight of the whole family,
and Alice was indeed the heroine of the hour, for

the Brownings were a family who took a generous
and unselfish pride in one another's accomplish-
ments, and were always ready to rejoice heartily
over every small triumph won by any member of the
household. Alice's achievement seemed to them
so "splendid," that it was some days before the
excitement subsided.
Of course, her best friend must at once be told
of her good fortune; and so the following afternoon
Alice, who had scarcely been able to eat or sleep
for happiness, posted off to tell Helen Martin
about the prize. Helen, who had taken a great
interest in the whole affair, was at home, and-an
animated conversation, of course, ensued. Alice
explained about the letter, the check, the delight
of the family, and her surprise, all in a breath; and
Helen, interrupting frequently to say, How
lovely!" or I 'm so glad, Alice dear !" finally
exclaimed, when the account was finished, "Well,
Alice, what shall you do with the money ?"
Devote it to the cause of art, and take paint-
ing lessons of Mr. Torrington," replied Alice. "He
is a perfect teacher, you know, only I could n't
afford the lessons, and so had to give up all idea of
studying, which was very hard. Now I can have
as many lessons as I like; is n't it lovely? It seems
terribly selfish, I know, to devote the money to my-
self, but perhaps some of it will be left over for
other things; and I do so long to paint! Is it
very selfish in me ?" asked Alice, wistfully.
No, indeed, I should say," answered Helen.
" You have earned the money yourself. You gave
up your lessons this winter so willingly that you
ought to have some reward; and I don't think you
could spend the prize money more wisely. Be-
sides, you will improve famously under Mr. Torring-
ton, and then you can earn more money by your
The two girls could have spent much more time
talking about the prize and other matters of in-
terest, but it began to grow late; and when Alice
ran down the steps at the elevated station, the
lamps had already begun to glimmer down the
dark vista of the street. As she hurried on
through the crowd, she could hardly keep from
dancing, under the exhilarating effects of good
spirits and frosty air.
On her way home, Alice stopped for a moment
at a street corner, her attention arrested by some-
thing that she saw there. It was nothing very
extraordinary, either.
A wretched-looking woman, pale and bonnetless,
her shoes worn through to the sidewalk, her hair
falling untidily down her back, and her gaunt
form barely covered by her tattered garments,
stood holding in her arms a child as pale as her-
self, with a deformed body and thin, pinched face.




i885s. MYSELF, OR ANOTHER? 531

Both the woman and child were looking with
longing eyes at the fruits displayed upon the stand
of a street vender, which was lighted up by a
flaring lamp. A girl, almost as miserably dressed
as the woman, in clothes once gaudy but now dirty
and ragged, came shuffling by. She stopped at
the vender's stand and bought an orange; turning,
she saw the woman and the sick child with wistful
eyes fixed on the bright golden fruit, and, as if
from a sudden impulse, the girl thrust the orange
into the woman's thin, grimy hand, and then, with-
out waiting for any word of thanks, hurried away.
Indeed, the woman was so astonished by the unex-
pected act of kindness, that she only stood and
watched the girl's retreating figure with a look of
vague surprise and wonder on her face, and then
walked slowly away in the opposite direction.
When Alice saw that little act of unselfishness
done by one poor person to another still poorer,
her face grew suddenly grave, then a smile stole
over it,--the smile that always accompanies a gen-
erous impulse; and when she reached her home
she looked both thoughtful and determined.
According to her custom, Mrs. Browning was
resting before dinner, on her sofa in a favorite
corner of the cozy, homelike parlor. The cheerful
blaze of the open fire was the only light in the dim
room, and Alice was glad to find her mother alone.
They often had pleasant talks together in the twi-
light, and it was evident that this evening Alice
had something on her mind to say. She drew her
chair up to the fire, and sat warming her hands
before it and looking into its glowing depths.
"Well, dear," said her mother, "what have
you decided to do with your money? "
That 's just what I wished to talk to you
about," replied Alice. "May I dojust what I please
with it, Mother? "
"Why not, Alice? You have earned it and the
honor, too. You, gave a great deal of time and
work to your drawing, and you certainly ought to
spend your money just as you please. Buy whatever
you wish with it, or, if you would prefer to lay aside
your first earnings, do so; only, whatever you do,
think carefully first, and expend your little fortune
wisely. It will be a good experience for you in the
future, if you ever make any more money, as I sin-
cerely hope you will. You know you wished very
much to take lessons in painting, this winter;
perhaps that would be as wise a use for your
money as any other. What do you think?"
"Mamma," said Alice, as though following out

some new train of thought, what would it cost
to send Birdie to school this winter ? "
"About a hundred and fifty dollars, as she
would be in a more advanced class this year; but
Papa thinks school out of the question. Why do
you ask ?"
"Because," said Alice, slowly, she seemed
so disappointed at having to leave school; and
she is so bright and anxious to learn, it seems a
great pity that she should have to give it all up. I
don't really need the money for anything. It was
quite unexpected, and so I think I should like
better than anything else to send Birdie back this
winter to Miss Merritt's. You would n't mind,
would you ? "
"Mind, my dear? No, indeed!" replied the
mother. "But I don't like to have you do that-
it 's too great a sacrifice. You need the money
yourself for many things. I wish you to think over
the matter, and not be too hasty in your decision."
"It's not too great a sacrifice," said Alice,
firmly. "I will think it over, but I am sure I
shall not change my mind."
Come here, Alice," said Mrs. Browning; and
she drew her tall daughter down to her. I am
even more proud of you now than when you told me
you had won the prize I do not like to take advan-
tage of your generous impulse, but I feel sure that
you are in earnest and that you will not regret
your choice."
And so it was decided; for Alice was a girl who,
having once made up her mind, rarely turned
aside from her purpose; and Birdie went back to
school, the happiest little girl imaginable. Mr.
Browning did-not at once return the money to
Alice-not'.n1 cl, because he could not, but be-
cause she had expressed herself willing to make
the sacrifice and give up a cherished plan for her sis-
ter; and he wished her self-denial to work out its
own results upon her character.
When at last better, times came -which was not
for many a long month- Alice resumed her paint-
ing, working with that patience and faithfulness
which are the evidence of a real love for art. Mean-
while she had no cause to repent her self-sacri-
fice, and I do not think she did. Birdie's bright
face and the good reports of her teachers were an
ample reward, aside from the proud and lov-
ing looks of both her parents, the cordial appro-
bation and admiration of Annie and Charlie, and
the two hearty kisses from the demonstrative twins,
who pronounced Alice a "trump and a daisy."






I r- -

, mwg


-' t.. -

MAMMA and Papa had decided to go to the the Exp
great New Orleans Exposition, but what to do pected
with Joe and Jean was the problem that puzzled The r
them. while N
Papa, from the first, was in favor of taking them the Ion
along, saying that the travel and sight-seeing Joe and
would do the little folk more good than a month first visi
at school. But Mamma said no; children were The
such a care in traveling, and always getting into from th
mischief of some kind; in fact, she would have no the hor
peace whatever with them; they would be much mules ii
better off, she thought, with Grandma Dean and tunity t
Aunt Fanny. Papa
So it was all arranged that they should go to Orleans
Grandma's, while Papa bought the tickets that were lo
were to convey himself and Mamma to the sunny either li
South for a few weeks of sight-seeing, tirely a
But it happened that, at the very last moment, yard th
Grandma Dean was taken with one of her bad glistene
rheumatic turns, requiring all Aunt Fanny's time On e
and attention to nurse her; so it was out of the first att
question to think of sending a hearty boy of four- which,
teen and a lively little girl of ten, who never could their lir
keep still for more than two minutes at a time, to cultural
a place where the least little sound would cause Neve
pain to poor Grandma's aching body. beautify
It was now altogether too late to think of making those I

any other arrangements, so the only
thing to be done was to take the chil-
dren along; and this is how it came
about that our young people went to
positionn without having in the least ex-
morning after their arrival in New Orleans,
lamma, who was somewhat fatigued after
g journey, remained at the hotel to rest,
Jean started off with Papa to make their
.t to the great Exposition.
grounds were about four miles distant
eir hotel, and as they rode slowly along in
se-cars (which, however, were drawn by
instead of horses), they had a good oppor-
o see something of the city.
pointed out to them how different the New
houses were from those at home. They
iw and broad, -nearly all of them having
little balconies, or wide piazzas running en-
round the outside; while in almost every
ie orange-trees, with their golden fruit,
d in the sunshine.
entering the grounds, Jean's attention was
racted by the magnificent live-oak trees,
with the delicate gray moss depending from
nbs, form a grand avenue leading to Horti-
r in all her life had she seen anything so
ul. Do let us go over there and sit under
lovely trees for just a minute, Papa," she


'Y- 1


said. So infatuated was the little girl with the big
trees and pretty moss, that she could hardly be
prevailed on to go to the main building until Joe
said he could n't see what fun a girl found in
just sitting still under a tree. If she only knew
how to climb one, there would be some sense in
As Jean never attempted to contradict anything
Joe said, thinking him one of the wisest and best
of boys, she allowed herself to be silently led away
in the direction of the main building.
This large structure, Papa told them, covered
thirty-three acres of ground-the largest space
ever inclosed under one roof.
Entering by the main door, they found them-
selves in front of the Music Hall, situated in about
the center of the build-

of all kinds; and during the day the din and clat-
ter made in this section were really distracting.
From here it was but a step to the Government
building. This structure, though not as large as
the main edifice, was fully as interesting and in-
structive; for the geography and resources of our
country could here be studied in a very practical
manner by means of the various natural and in-
dustrial products of the different States, which were
arranged in their respective sections in proper
order. A careful survey of the numerous govern-
ment exhibits could not but improve the mind of
any boy or girl fortunate enough to see them.
Next in order came the building containing the
live-stock. Here Joe was greatly delighted over
some magnificent Percheron horses, while Jean

ing, and capable of seat-
ing a great many people.
It was here that during
the holiday season the ,
big Christmas-tree was
placed, laden with all
sorts of nice presents for
the children.
Papa told Joe and Jean
that they must be careful
not to tire themselves
out by attempting too
much during this first
visit, as they would be
able to come out to the
Exposition very often be-
forereturninghome. The --
best plan, he thought,' II .'
would be to stroll lei-
surely through the vari-
ous buildings, so as to
form a general idea of
what there was to be
seen, while on other days' "
they could give more
time to whatever objects
specially interested them.
In the main building,
they found that the dif-
ferent foreign govern- --
ments here had their ex-
hibits; while business
firms, representing vari- tal'.
ous cities of this country,
displayed their wares in THE CHINESE PAGODA. (SEE PAGE 536.)
the most tempting man-
ner, to lure the passers-by to pause and examine hovered near the dear little Shetland ponies and
their goods. wished she might take home just one.
Almost one half of the vast building had been As the children were now beginning to tire some-
given over to machinery and mechanical inventions what, Papa took them over to Horticultural Hall



for a brief rest; and there, amid the waving palms,
blooming cocoanut-trees, and other tropical plants,
they forgot all about the
snow and ice they had
so recently left at home.
Many times during
their stay of a month in
the city all the family
visited the Exposition,
and Mamma was forced
to admit that Joe and
Jean behaved very well,
and that she should nev-
er again think of leav-
ing them at home when
planning to go away.
There were few things
of interest in the dif-
ferent buildings that es-
caped the searching eyes
of the little boy and girl,
for what one failed to see
the other would spy out;
and as most of the strange sights were described
in several letters, written at this time, I can hardly
do better than copy Joe's epistle to his school-
chum, Fred, who lives in New York, and Jean's

DEAR FRED: I believe I promised, when leaving school, to write
you something about the Exposition. Well, I 've been so busy
since I came here, going out to the Exposition grounds, or roaming
over the old French quarter with Papa, that when night comes I
am too tired to do anything but go to bed. To-day it is raining
hard, and Papa, Mamma, and Jean all are writing letters; so I
think, while I feel like it, I will send one off to you.
The Exposition is the biggest thing I have ever seen (I was too
little to go to the Centennial, you know), and it haslots and lots of
most splendid things in it.
In the main building there is a stuffed bird called the Quatzel, that
I think is very interesting. The boy who takes care of the stand
where it is told me all about it the other day.
The bird is a native of Guatemala, and looks something like a
parrot, only its tail feathers are longer. The queer thing about it is,
that if you only pull out one of its feathers the bird dies right away,
and if a person succeeds in catching one, and puts it in a cage, it goes
to work and pulls out its own feathers,- commits suicide, as it were,-
as it will not live if deprived of its liberty. I asked the boy if it knew
how to sing, and he went to work and made just the funniest noise
with his lips all puckered up, and said that was something like the
cry it uttered. Have you ever heard of this bird before?
Another thing I like in this same building is a little house that
was built in China. It is made of bamboo. There is a great big red
dragon on top that's tremendous; he keeps snorting out steam all the
time. I wish we could have a dragon like that for our circus. When
you go inside the little house they give you a cup of tea to drink.
There is any quantity of machinery here for doing all sorts of
work. This, I suppose, you would like best of all, as you are fond
of such things; but ever since I almost took the top of my thumb off
with Uncle Will's patent lawn-mower, I don't care so much for
machines; they make too much noise for me.
In the Governmentbuilding there are so many interesting things


letter to her cousin Daisy, whose papa is an army- that I hardly know which to tell you about. Each of the States
officer and lives with his family in a fort away off has been given a certain amount of space, which it has filled with
all sorts of things that belong particularly to that State.
somewhere in Dakota. Louisiana has a big alligator almost twenty feet long, while right



beside it is the cutest little baby alligator you ever saw, just coming
out of the egg. The big alligator has its mouth wide open, and I
know I should n't care to have been around when it was alive in the
water and opened that mouth.
Not far from the alligators are some of the relics of the Greely re-
liefexpedition. Life-sized figures, dressed up in furs, show exactly
what they wear in the Arctic regions; there are also sleeping bags

try. Papa made me look at them very carefully, because he said they
would do me good.
How is the skating and sleighing at home, now? It is nice and
warm down here; still, I should feel very bad if I thought I should
never see any more snow again. I wish, when you have a chance,
you would go round to Mr. Graham's and see how my dog Chips is
getting along; hope the old fellow is n't fretting after me. I am

made of reindeer's skin, hospital tents, sleds laden with provisions, going to bring him home a new collar from the Exposition. I must
different kinds of clothing, and a number of other interesting arti- close now, as I have written a very long letter.
cles. Besides these, there are some photographs that show you, as Your school-mate, JoE.
plain as can be, just what it looks like up there.
Fred, I wish you could see the statues, houses, and different Jean's letter ran thus :
things they have made out of grain sent on from the West. One of
the States has a copy of the Statue of Liberty that i. irj F;..i,; .:
have down in New York harbor, made out of wheat, .hl- ii..;..,e~ HOTEL ROYAL, NEW ORLEANS, Feb. 23d, '85.
has a large figure meant to represent the goddess Ceres, that is DEAR DAISY: I do so wish you were down here with us I We are
very beautiful. Dakota has an obelisk composed of different col- having splendid times, going somewhere almost every day. I have
ored ears of corn, some of them so red that you would surely think been out to the Exposition a number of times, and think I have seen
they had-been painted; perched on top, on a sheaf of wheat, is a very nearly everything there. In the main building at one of the
big American Eagle. stands they have two of the funniest pigs you ever saw. In the mid-
Besides the things I have told you about, there are samples of die of the floor there is a table set all ready for dinner, with a big
work done by boys and girls in different schools all over the coun- ham in the center, while on each side stand Mr. and Mrs. Pig.




Mrs. Pig has on a lovely yellow satin Mother Hubbard, trimmed
with red satin around the bottom and lace around the neck; while
in her hand, which is one of her front feet, you know, she has a big

seem possible that some day they will only be ham like that on the
table and that somebody will eat them up.
Poor things! I should think it would worry them to think about
it. But of course a stuffed pig can't think; so it is all right anyhow.
In the same building the Chinese Government have built a pa-
goda and filled it with a great many interesting things. Papa and
Mamma have spent hours there, looking at the curiosities, but I
could n't get interested in them, because I did n't know what they
were for, until Papa explained them to me.
One thingI knew, though-a baby's chair; for it has a figure of a
baby sitting in it, with a queer-looking nurse standing alongside.
The baby's chair is made of bamboo; and when baby is put in it
there is a piece that presses up close against its waist and holds the
poor little thing a tight prisoner. In front, on rods, are a few little
rings for baby to play with; to run these up and down is all the
amusement the little one can have.
I should think all the babies who see this chair and think of their
own little willow chairs with pretty ribbons on at home would be glad
that they do not live in China. The baby represented in this chair
has just a little bit of hair in front; all the rest of its head is bald.
I guess that little bit is the beginning of what will be its cue some
One of the sights I like best of all is old John Anderson and his
wife, with their dog and cat, all made out of the purest and whitest
cotton; this belongs to the State of Louisiana. The old lady is
knitting a stocking, and the ball of yam has dropped from her lap;
pussy is doing her best to tangle it all up. Mr. Anderson, who
seems like a real kind old man, leans heavily on his cane, while the
dog sits at his feet and looks as if he never in his life would worry
pussy, or anybody else. Behind the old people is a bird, also made
of cotton, meant to represent the American Eagle. Everybody who
looks at this group thinks it just splendid. I am sure I do.
Daisy, do you like to write compositions? I hate them! for I
never can write anything that sounds well. Mamma made me go


sunflower. The buttons down the front of her dress represent little over with her and read some compositions that were written by little
hams, and are too cute for anything. Indian girls who go to school in Colorado. I felt ashamed; some
Mr. Pig, on the other side of the table, has on a black swallow- of them were so good, and nicely written, with no blots either.
tail coat, light vest, andyellow trousers, with a high standing collar The pictures they made were real funny, though. Mamma said
and red necktie, and looks just as lovely as Mrs. Pig. They both it was their being out ofperspective that made them look so queer.
appear so pleased and innocent in their fine clothes that it does n't Under every one of them they would write, "This is a Dog;"




"This is a Chicken"; just as if you could not tell what they were
meant for.
How many dolls have you now, and what are their names? Are
there many little girls at the new fort where you are living? And is
it very cold up there ? I like it here because it is so warm, and you
can have roses in the garden all winter, besides picking oranges

right off the trees. Joe, now that he has seen the Exposition, is in
ahurry to get back home, as he wants to try the new skates Uncle
Will gave him last Christmas; but I prefer summer to winter. Give
my love to Uncle Rob and Aunt Carrie, and a kiss to baby Sue.
Write to me soon. Your loving cousin,


(Recollections ofa Page in the United States Senate.)




LET us now revert to the events following the
inauguration of 1873, to which I have referred in
an earlier chapter. Returning to our Chamber,
the Vice-President resumed the chair at 12:47
o'clock, the ceremonies on the portico having oc-
cupied not half an hour. After the passage of the
usual resolutions, fixing the hour of daily meeting
and providing for the notification of the President
that the Senate had convened in obedience to his

proclamation, the Senate adjourned to the follow-
ing Thursday.
This special session of the Senate was called by
the President, principally, if not wholly, to have
that body act upon his nominations of men to
office. The session being purely for the transac-
tion of executive business, no legislation was per-
missible. There was no House of Representatives,
and would be none until the following December,
unless an extraordinary occasion should in the
meantime arise requiring the exercise of its power.
After appointing its committees for the session,
and attending to the business submitted by the

* Copyright, 1884, by Edmund Alton. All rights reserved.


President, on the twenty-sixth day of March, with
the usual formalities, the Senate adjourned, to meet
again, however, on the first Monday in December,
unless called together again by the President before
that time.
During the course of its proceedings, it ap-
pointed Senator Carpenter to be President of the
Senate fro tempore,* to act as presiding officer dur-
ing the absence of the Vice-President, who was not
able to attend every day. This position of President
fro tempore is a very important one. If the Presi-
dent of the United States die or otherwise become
incapable of performing the duties of that office,
they devolve upon the Vice-President, and the Pres-
ident of the Senate fro tempore becomes the acting
Vice-President of the United States; and, in the
event of the death of both the President and Vice-
President, the President of the Senate fro tem-
pore acts as President of the United States until
the election of another President as provided by
law. In Great Britain and many other nations
of the world the succession to the throne depends
upon blood relationship. Those nations are there-
fore not likely ever to be without persons to act as
rulers. Our line of succession, however, is very
short-after the President of the Senate pro tem-
pore comes the Speaker of the House, and beyond
that no provision has been made by Congress
under the authority conferred upon it by the Con-
stitution. But at the time of which I write, there
was no House, and consequently no Speaker; so
if the President and Vice-President as well as the
President of the Senate pro tempore had died, after
the adjournment of that special session, the Gov-
ernment would have had no head.
Such a state of affairs would have been, to say
the least, very inconvenient. And we were not long
ago on the brink of just such a condition of things.
When President Garfield died there was no Speaker
of the House, and the Senate had carelessly ad-
journed without choosing a President fro temfore.
Providentially,Vice-President Arthur was alive, and
he assumed the office of President. Had anything
happened to him, there might have been confu-
sion. So alarmed were many people about it
that, when Congress met, it was asked to pass a
law creating a longer line of succession, in order to
guard against such an emergency again occurring.
You would naturally suppose, from the anxiety
that prevailed, that Congress made such a law at
once. But it did not; and, although several years
have elapsed, no such law has yet been enacted.
If you have influence with any members of Con-
gress, it might be well to call their attention to
this subject, and urge upon them the importance
of taking action in the matter.
The Senate remained in session long enough for

us to become acquainted with the new senators,
and then we separated. During that long vaca-
tion of eight months, we pages, like the senators,
scattered ourselves over the entire country, one
going to California and another to Maine. We
indulged in the ordinary juvenile delights; but,
although we had a grand time, we were only too
happy when the first of December came around
and both Houses again convened.

There was nothing unusual about the proceed-
ings of the Senate on the opening day. So I went
over to the House of Representatives. This was
the beginning of the first regular session of the
Forty-third Congress, and at twelve o'clock the
clerk of the last House (there being no Speaker)
called the members to order. After a call of the
roll, the clerk said :
Two hundred and eighty-one members having
answered to their names, being more than a quo-
rum, the clerk is now ready to receive a motion to
proceed to the election of Speaker."
Several members arose and suggested the names
of various persons; but every one knew before-
hand who would be elected. The Republicans
were in the majority, and prior to the meeting of
the House, they had come together and held a
caucus. A caucus is a secret session of Congress-
men all of the same party, in which they talk over
the policy of legislation and other matters, and
agree to act together. The Republicans of the
House, as well as those of the Senate, have fre-
quent caucuses; so also do the Democrats. In this
particular caucus, the Republican members of the
House had agreed to nominate and vote for James
G. Blaine as Speaker. He had been the Speaker
of the preceding House. Tellers were appointed,
and, as the majority of the House voted for Mr.
Blaine, he was declared by the clerk duly elected
Speaker of the House of Representatives of the
Forty-third Congress. He was conducted to the
chair by two of the members, and made a brief
address; whereupon, Mr. Dawes, at the request
of the Clerk, administered the oath to the Speaker.
Then the Speaker swore in the members in
attendance, and after the election of a clerk, ser-
geant-at-arms, door-keeper, postmaster, and chap-
lain, the organization of the House was complete.
The appointment of committees being the privi-
lege of the Speaker, it required several days for
him to make up the list; but, with this exception,
the House was ready to begin making laws.
The House having notified the Senate of its or-
ganization, there remained but one other interest-
ing feature of the proceedings. Every member
naturally wished the best seat in the hall that he
could obtain; and as all of them could not be

* "For the time being."



satisfied, the question was determined by a game
of chance. The clerk placed in a box as many
slips of paper as there were representatives, each
bearing the name of a representative, and he then
drew these slips from the box one at a time. (The
member oldest in continuous service, and also Mr.
Alexander H. Stephens, who, on account of his
age and infirmity, was "entitled to consideration
on the part of the House," were permitted to
choose seats before the drawing commenced.)
Then all the other members retired beyond the
outer row, and each representative, as the slip
bearing his name was drawn and called, came for-
ward and selected a seat. It was quite an amus-
ing performance; the law-makers enjoyed the fun
fully as much as did the spectators in the gallery;
and the countenances of the fortunate members
beamed with the smiles of childish joy.
In the Senate, this matter of seats is settled in a
different way. At the beginning of every Congress,
the newly elected, senators choose from among the
vacant seats in the order in which each senator
notifies Captain Bassett, on the principle of first
come, first served;" and if they do not get satis-
factory'seats, they "speak for other seats, in the
event of such seats becoming vacant during their
term of office. Captain Bassett keeps a record of
all these requests in a book, and often the same
seat will be spoken for by three or four senators.
I remember one senator, who had a seat very
desirable on account of its location, who became
suddenly ill-so ill that he was not expected
to live. .Several of the other senators applied for
his seat; and, when the senator heard of it, he
declared he would not die. And he did not; he
even lived to see the seats of these senators who
had spoken for his become vacant.
Within a few days both Houses were in running,
order, and things went on quietly for several months.
But on the eleventh of March, 1874, the monotony
was broken. My attention on that day was at-
tracted to this unusual language used by the Chap-
lain of the Senate in his opening prayer:
We miss some of our number, who are withdrawn from these
seats and are lying prostrate with sickness and disease; and espe-
cially one who but yesterday came into this Chamber with all the
presence of his manly form, but now, when we meet again this
morning, lies close to the edge of the dark river."

When the Journal had been read, Senator Sher-
man moved to adjourn, and the motion was agreed
to without a voice being heard, after a session of
only nine minutes. Every one whom I met in the
Senate, and throughout the building, was silent
and sad. I soon ascertained the cause. Senator
Sumner was dying! It was hard to realize the
sad fact. Only the preceding day he had been in
the Senate, apparently in the best of spirits; and I

remember his calling me to him and making some
pleasant remarks as he whittled the end of his
pen-holder. That pen I have to-day, the last he
ever used in the Senate, and probably in the world.
I went to the House of Representatives to get
away from the gloom, but found the shadow wher-
ever I went. I remained in the Hall of Repre-
sentatives until three o'clock, and was just on the
point of leaving, when the Speaker arose and in a
trembling voice remarked:
The Chair lays before the House the following
telegram this moment received." And then, amid
painful silence and suspense, the Clerk read:

Senator Sumner died at ten minutes before three o'clock."

The effect of the announcement was startling.
The vast audience seemed dazed and actually at a
loss for breath, and the House at once adjourned.
It is needless to describe the sensation produced
throughout the city. The news of that death in-
stantly spread like a pall over the country, and
caused profound national grief.
The next day the Senate adjourned after pass-
ing resolutions in regard to the funeral arrange-
ments, and the House did likewise. On Friday,
the thirteenth, the Senate assembled at the usual
hour. The desk and chair of the deceased senator
were covered with crape, and the walls of the room
were heavily draped in mourning. The senators
came in noiselessly. The air was oppressive, and the
Senate floor and galleries were strangely silent when
the Diplomatic Corps arrived, dressed in black,
and took the seats prepared for them. Then en-
tered the House of Representatives in a body, the
senators standing as the members were being
seated; following the representatives came the
Supreme Court of the United States, and the
President and his Cabinet.
Immediately afterward the Committee of Ar-
rangements was announced. Then came a solemn
procession: the casket containing the remains of
the dead statesman borne by six officers, and
escorted by the Committee of Arrangements of
the House and Senate, the pall-bearers and mourn-
ers. As the cortege entered, the Chaplain of the
Senate, who preceded it, slowly repeated the words:

"I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me,
though he were dead, yet shall he live,-"

All the people rose reverently to their feet and
stood, with bowed heads, while the procession
moved slowly to the catafalque in front of the Sec-
retary's desk.
After an impressive pause, the religious services
were begun by the Chaplain of the House and the
Chaplain of the Senate. After they were con-


cluded, the Vice-President pro tempore (Senator
Carpenter) said:
"The services appointed to be performed by the Committee of
Arrangements having terminated, the Senate of the United States
intrusts the mortal remains of Charles Sumner to its Sergeant-
at-Arms and a Committee appointed by it, charged with the
melancholy duty of conveying them to his home, there to he com-
mitted earth to earth, in the soil of the Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts. Peace to his ashes!"
The procession again formed, and as it left the
Chamber the spectators rose, glancing after it with
eyes almost obscured by tears. At three o'clock
the funeral train, all draped in black, left the rail-
road station, while the church-bells of the city
tolled mournfully.
The ceremonies reminded me of those I had
witnessed at the Capitol just a year before. Yet
what a contrast! Then the city was in holiday
attire, and the nation rejoiced at the beginning of
a new Administration. On this occasion the city
was shrouded in the emblems of grief. And, as Sen-
ator Anthony feelingly said, "the sad intelligence
of the death of this great senator had extended
beyond the shores of our own country, arousing pro-
found regret and sympathy wherever humanity
weeps for a friend, 'wherever liberty deplores an

Upon the death of a senator or representative,
it is customary for both Houses to set aside a day
for memorial services.* In accordance with this
usage, the Senate, on the 27th of April, resolved,
"That, as an additional mark of respect to the
memory of Charles Sumner, long a senator from
Massachusetts, business be now suspended, that
the friends and associates of the deceased may pay
fitting tribute to his public and private virtues."
The House, on the same day, in sympathy with
the action of the Senate," adopted a similar reso-
I need not dwell upon what was said. Partisan
animosities were forgotten, and men of opposite
political faiths vied with one another in eulogizing
the life and character of the dead senator. The
demonstration in Congress was but one of many
held throughout the country. At last, every one
was able to look calmly and dispassionately upon
the deeds of the great senator, and estimate them
at their worth. But it had not been so during his
career. His independence and fearlessness of
thought and action had aroused the fury of all
parties; and partisan hate is almost implacable.
When Charles Sumner entered upon his duties as
a senator, he was treated by his adversaries in the
Senate in a manner which violated all the courte-
sies of that body. He died respected by all, one
of the foremost statesmen of the age.
It is not the design nor province of these papers

to criticise political factions or their principles.
Parties, like the men composing them, are neces-
sarily fallible; they have their virtues-they have
also imperfections. Good, upright citizens enter-
tain opposite political views; and the man of hon-
est convictions, with the courage to express them,
-although we may think them erroneous,- is al-
ways entitled to our respect.
But a politician is one thing- a statesman is
another. The former will favor any farty in or-
der to gain personal advantage; the latter will
offose all parties in the maintenance of what he
conceives to be right. And it was because Charles
Sumner was a statesman, that honorable men
of all shades of opinion joined in honoring his
memory by testifying to the purity of his motives
and the exalted dignity of his life. The sincerity
of his convictions none could question; and those
familiar with the perils and the opposition he had
encountered in their utterance best understood the
moral grandeur of his character.
I can not enter into a detailed account of his sen-
atorial life. It is sure to be found in any complete
history of his country. I will only say that his first
great speech in the Senate, delivered in August,
1852, contained this noble declaration, which was
true of his entire public life:
He lived to see the triumph of the principles
which he was then advocating in the face of most
bitter opposition; and the tribute paid to his mem-
ory by his friend and associate, Senator Anthony,
was as just as it was eloquent. His eulogy is his
life; his epitaph is the general grief; his monu-
ment, builded by his own hands, is the eternal
statutes of freedom."
# A friend of humanity, his policy was peace,
and the settlement of disputes between nations by
arbitration instead of by war was one of his fond-
est dreams. Possessed of such benignant senti-
mnents, on December 2, 1872, he introduced a
bill which he requested to have "read in full
for information." I shall give it here; for. to
carry it to the desk was one of my first acts as a
page. It was as follows:

A Bill to regulate the A rmy Register and the Regimental Colors
of the United States.
"WHEREAS, the national amity and good-will among fellow-
citizens can be assured only through oblivion of past differences,
and it is contrary to the usage of civilized nations to perpetuate the
memory of civil war: THEREFORE,
Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of tke
United States ofAmerica in Congress assembled, That the names
of battles with fellow-citizens shall not be continued in the A rmy
Register or placed on the regimental colors of the United States."

The bill was ordered to be printed, and that
was the end of its pilgrimage in Congress. It

* Upon the termination of the exercises, it is also usual, as a further mark of respect, to adjourn for the day.



never became a law. But it was discussed else-
where The Legislature of Massachusetts heard
of it with deepest indignation. The act of Sen-
ator Sumner was stigmatized as "an attempt
to degrade the loyal soldiery of the Union and
their grand achievements "; and a resolution of
censure was introduced and passed by the legisla-
ture of the State which had made him its senator.
The men who voted for it could not have known
their senator well. His whole life was a contradic-
tion of the charge.
The resolution of censure was an injustice, which
would have provoked some men to wrath. But
with Mr. Sumner it occasioned not anger but
grief. He had served his State for more than
twenty years; and it had stood proudly by him
in all his efforts. That it should now, after his
long and faithful career, misinterpret his motives,
and seem to brand him with reproach, was perhaps
the saddest blow he had ever sustained. The effect
upon him was visible not only to friends but to
strangers. His manner betrayed how it bore upon
his mind. Yet that session wore away and Decem-
ber appeared, and the senator was again found at

his seat on the opening day, this time to introduce
his famous Civil Rights Bill the first bill of the ses-
sion. But, as the days slipped by, his face was less
frequently seen in the Senate. December, January,
February passed--his visits were few and brief.
On the ioth of March, however, he was in attend-
ance. I remember it well. I had not seen him
for quite a while, and he called me to his desk. I
thought he looked more cheerful than usual, and
I asked after his health. As he whittled a pen,
he smilingly chatted with me, and stated that he
had come to the Senate to hear pleasant news. He
had scarcely made the remark, when Senator
Boutwell, his colleague, arose and sent up to the
clerk's desk to be read a resolution of the Massa-
chusetts Legislature. As the clerk proceeded, all
eyes turned upon Senator Sumner who was eagerly
listening. It was a resolution rescinding the vote
of censure! Within a few moments after the
reading, the senator left the Chamber, and, as I
parted from him at the door, he shook hands
kindly, and said: Good-bye !"
Those were his last words to me. The next day
he was dead!

(To be continued.)



SITTLE Penelope took up her
S And tied a knot at the end
of her thread;
And when she had found her thimble
"Now I must learn to sew," she said.

She sat on the floor and tipped over the basket
Till she found some pieces, blue, yellow, and red;
She cut with her scissors some criss-cross patches.
"I 'll make my dolly a quilt," she said.

She put in her needle, this way and that way:
She pushed and she pulled till her fingers bled;
And when she had twisted, and puckered and
"My doll has a crazy quilt!" she said.




BREAKFAST was over; little Nan,
/Home-loving and sweet-hearted,
With school-books, bag, and slate in hand,
Glanced clockward ere she started.

" Oh, see !" she said. "The poor old clock
Is sorry time is flying,
The corners of his mouth turn down,
As if he felt like crying "

Perhaps he missed the little girl,
Her ringing song and laughter,-
For certainly his face was changed
To greet her, hours after.

Just as she entered, fresh from school,
Her voice all care beguiling,
The corners of his mouth-turned up,-
The dear old clock was smiling!






--* -~2-~ '"~ ~.`~i~'15~1CIC~i6~e~~I(DH)~l~jl~l~cY I~III ~L~~ -.--~`
'"'~~`~~ :I'~:~r~~ ;'I: `;-
.:-.....~...--.~';;: :ni
...... .~
~- ..r~ i
~~..c~~...~-...I ~~:c:~ ---"
-( 5 ~7
..r ...~.::.
;r -~B i-~r "" 1-
~-- ---/ `~
r ~_~ .~I.I- -i -- '-:
-:TI nl,,
i.. "'"~~I;r
..-~jj~L~k. ..,~8: s~~~.
-- -~s c --r-
P j
~ r

I AM going to tell you about one of the prettiest
little houses that children ever had.
My brother and I wanted a house. We had once
had a wigwam of cut boughs, where we could live
all day and give parties; but nobody volunteered
to make us another, so we planned a house that we
could make for ourselves, and that you can make
for yourselves. He was eleven and I was thirteen.
The only indispensable requisites are two or three
large balls of strong string (strong cotton string
will do), a quantity of morning-glory seed, a few
tacks and small nails, some hempen cord or rope,
and the use of spade, garden-fork, trowel, scissors;
a penknife, an old table-knife, a tape-line, and per-
haps a yard-stick, wheelbarrow, watering-pot, and

a little step-ladder. But it is all important for the
existence of this house that at no time in the sum-
mer are cows or horses to be let in upon it.
The plan grew as we worked, but I will give it
to you complete.
The first thing to do, after getting the morning-
glory seeds, is to plant some in a box in the house,
early in April or as soon after that as possible -
unless it is already warm weather in May, and time
to plant corn; if so, plant them out-of-doors, accord-
ing to directions, which will be given further on.
We found in a far-off corner of the yard, a tree, the
lower boughs of which spread out horizontally eight
or ten feet from the ground. The central peak of
our main building was to be fastened on a firm part



of a bough, immovable even in wind-storms, and,
at least six feet from the trunk (see R, Fig. 2). We
found such a point, where also a lesser, but stout,
long bough, branched out sideways (6 a G, Fig.
16), because we wanted it for the ridge-pole of a
square wing-room; but that is not positively neces-
sary. Lest there might be difficulty in remember-




making a door-space thirty inches wide. By meas-
uring from B to one side of this door, -we got our
radius, and laid out this second circle, marking it
out with sticks as before, except across the door-
space (see Fig. 5).
To mark out the square room ground-plan, we
chose point G, Fig. 16, drove in two tacks, and

... ...
i \


ing this point, or in keeping th
slipping when they were put over
there two big tacks, about an inch
all safe (see Fig. 3).
The next thing-was to lay out th
From R (Fig. 2), the chosen point

ie strings from
it, we drove in
apart, to make

ie ground-plan.
of the bough, a
t t

Jlll lllll L O JD l\IIL
2t 6 C tied to a string)
-** / / was dropped,
./ to find our
B ...-floor-center,

"----A \ H
A; from ,,
which, / ..
withastring 2 I: ; B",
five feet long, \
we laid out a circle, marking it .. -
closely with sticks stuck in the *
ground (see Fig. 4).
We found another good point, on a
bough (T, Fig. 13, 14, or 15), at which to '
fasten the peak of our second, smaller, circu-
lar room, and drove in there a second pair of
tacks. Between these two tack-marked points on
the boughs (see R and T, Fig. 13), we stretched a
large hemp cord very tight and fastened it, nailing
it firm when tying proved not sufficient. Dropping
the plummet from T, we found our second center, B
(Fig. 5). Drawing a straight line between A and B,
we marked e on the big circle, and pulled up the
row of sticks for fifteen inches on each side of e,

dropped a plummet to find C, the middle point of
its back-wall ground-line. From C to A, the
floor-center of the main building, we stretched a
string along the ground (A C, Fig. 6), fastening it
at the ends, for the moment, with sticks. About
two and one-half feet from this string, and parallel
to it on the ground, we stretched and fastened two
other strings, k x and dz, and another, x z, through
C at right angles with them. Taking away string
A C, we now had the three sides, k x, x z,
and z d. We marked them out with sticks, and
then took away the strings. We made
another thirty-inch door-space at i
(Fig. 7).
S Also at o, about opposite the
.' / tree trunk, we made a door-space

V w

inches wide.
Our line of mark-
ing sticks now stood
as in Fig. 7, H being
the tree trunk.
The shape of our tree decided somewhat the plan
of our house, and the plan of yours may be settled
likewise; but the remaining directions can prob-


ably be followed very closely. Two inches out-
side of the row of sticks, mark another line all
around by cutting through the sod, and eight inches
beyond that still another. (Sharpen your knife on
any stone if it does not cut the sod easily.) Then
take spade and trowel and remove the sod entirely
from between these two outer lines, carefully
squaring at each side of the front door space the
ends of this long winding flower-bed,- or vine-bed,
as we now may call it (see Fig. 8); also, at each of
the four square dots, s, m, n, u, Fig. 7, inside the
doors of the lesser rooms, cut out a patch of sod
about eight inches long and six inches wide;. the
shape of the walls making these little beds neces-
sary, as you will find, out when the vines grow up.
Now spade up yourbeds, and fill them with some
rich earth and whatever, fertilizer the gardener ad-
vises, used in just the quantity and way that he
advises. This is the stage at which seeds should
be planted. (See directions, page 547.)
Next get about one hundred small, strong,
forked sticks, one end of the fork being perhaps six
inches long, and the other only one or two. The


longer end may iz
need to be sharp- A
ened a little.
These sticks
when driven into. .1k.. 9'
the ground are for
fastening the strings
of the walls to, as ex-
plained later. Study out
what sort will best answer,
and be patient in selecting the best. Long hair-
pins might be made to answer. Make the main
building. first.' Lay pebbles or some such easy
markers, six inches apart, around the big circle,
except in the door-spaces. A trifling increas-
ing or lessening of the door-spaces will make the
pebbles come evenly. (See Fig. 9.) (You need
not regard the number of dots or strings in any of
these diagrams. They vary, and. are necessarily
less than they need be in the house. But pay
attention to the measurements here given.)
Now stand upon a step-ladder or chair, or, if there
are two. of you, one may be able to sit upon the
bough itself and tie the 'end of the string over the
VOL. XII.-35.

bough between the tacks at R, lettingthe knot come
underneath. Then extend the string to the first
pebble, c, on the side of door-space.e, wind it se-
curely around the fork placed at that point, but with-
out cutting it, and then let it be put first under
the bough and then over (see Fig. 3) at R, between
the tacks again; then extend it to the first pebble,
s (of Fig. 9), on the side of door-space i, fork it
in, hand it up again, let it be put over the bough
in the same place, always crossing underneath in
the same way; fork it in at pebble v, put'it over
the bough again; then to pebble v, ard so on till
you complete this small section of wallbetween the
two doors. Now, with a pin, fasten your string to
the mass of strings on the bough; you would bet-
ter not cut it, especially as you must find out, by
experimenting on this small section of wall, how
tightly to pull the upright strings. They will answer
for a wall if left straight as they are, and, being
double, will be quite strong (see Fig. o1). Fig. o1
and Fig. 11 have only one door each, that you may
better see the styles of wall; but, tied together, two
and two alternately, into diamonds, as shown in Fig.




II, the strings make a much firmer and much
piettier house.. Ifyou mean to tie yours so, the
upright strings will need to be pulled less tightly
than if they were to be left straight. Try the tying
upon this section (using one of the other balls of
cord) till you learn how to do it and just how tight
to make the upright strings. Don't begrudge
altering this little piece of wall till you:get it
right. If you canriot understand by Fig. 12 how
.to do the tying, your mother can explain it to you.
Make the first tying seven inches above the ground,
*the next one seven inches above that, and so up,
as near to the peak as is possible. Do not by any
means draw.your. tying-string .too tightly between



the things, or the sides of the doors will sag out
and the wall itself will sag in.
When the small section is finished, extend your
string, which was left pinned, down to pebble w
(Fig. 9), up again to R, then down to pebble x,
up again, then down to pebble z, then up, then to
pebble k, and so on till you have made the last
upright, tied the string, and cut it off; having
been very careful all the time to pull it only as
tightly as you found by your experimenting would
be right.
When the main building is finished, lay your
pebble markers around the small circle, letting:the
side strings of the door e, now in place, be (the
first strings of the new room.
R Begin at the bough, at T,
by tying the end of your
string between the tacks,
as you did before at-R.
Make first the outer
half, v, .-z, .(Fig; 5),
of this room. When
that is done, and
the string is
finally put
over the
it out

the hempen cord and tie it to the cord at a point
n, six.inches from T (see Fig. 13). Then extend it
down to the next pebble on one side, g (Fig. 14),
fork it in, and carry it back over the hempen cord
at the same point, n, to the corresponding pebble,
u, on the other side; then carry it up and tie it
at the same point, n. If this puzzles you, have
some one show you how to tie it so as to hold in
place the two double strings which meet here.
Then go six inches further out along the hempen
cord to m, and tie; and then down--and so on
till all the pebble places are used up. Continue
going out along the hempen cord six inches at a

time, and extending strings to the ground; fork-
ing all these strings into the two last intervals,
at each side of the door. (see dotted lines, Fig. 15).
For the square room .(Fig. 16), in placing the
pebble markers, begin'at the.two back corners, xand
z, Fig. 7, and arrange.the pebbles proportionately
in x, C, z, by. altering their distances apart, if
necessary, but not by altering :the corners; then
place them from x.and z, along the two sides, 6
inches apart, not cariiig:as to the distance of the
last ones from the main building walls.
The strings of the back wall of the' square room,
Fig. :7, all:pass over.the bough above at G (Fig.
-16 or 18), between the tacks. Tie.your string there,
extend it down to u, Fig. 17, then up;-then to v,
then up, then to x, and so on. When the back
wall- is done and the string has been finally put
over the bough, carry it-along the bough 6; inches
and tie, then down to the first pebble of one side,
then up, then down on the other side, and so pro-
ceed (Fig. 18 or r6), as was done in the part last
made of the small circular room, until this square
room is finished.
If you wish a square room, and have no bough
suitable for a ridge-pole, you can doubtless stretch
a hempen cord or rope from R to some bough, or
wall, or post, so as to answer for one. It improves
the house greatly to break, in some such way, the
sameness of its architecture.
When the whole house is made, and the dia-

3 C

monds tied, one stout string very tightly drawn
should be put at the sides of each door, passing,
crossed like the others, over the bough above, be-
tween the tacks, and fastened very firmly in the
ground, as close to the original side strings as pos-
sible. Rope would be even better than string,
especially for the front door; or perhaps two fishing
rods, if you do not mind the expense. To these
new lintels tie or secure the original sides of the
doors, in some neat way, (e. g. Fig. 19.) Finally,
lace a string across the top of each door (as a shoe
is laced) for a short distance (see Fig. 19), making
the door six and a half feet high.





27..r y

Now, if you have some morning-glory vines
ready, transplant them into the vine-beds.
There -are three ways in which you can raise
your vines :
Ist-To plant them some time beforehand in a
box in the house, for transplanting.
2d-To plant them as early as possible out-of-
doors for transplanting.
3d-To plant them in their permanent places in
the: vine-beds.
The firstwould be the b.-.t iay'for all the vines,
if you could raise so :iian, in the house, but you
will need about three hundred and si\ty. Raise as
many as you can in this ay. The third way would
be next best, if your vinebeds 'are ready at early
corn-planting time. The second will probably be
your main dependence. Proceed as follows:
Dig up a soft, rich patch of ground, and plant your
seeds in rows (for ease in transplanting) three or
four inches apart, the seeds being about ain inch
apart in the rows, and an inch deep in the ground.
(You can put them closer if your patch is small,
but do not if you can help it.) You may find
it best to use all three methods; but whatever you
do, raise a good many by the second, to supply de-
ficiencies and accidents as the season goes on.
Do not transplant vines into the vine-beds tillthe
string-work is entirely done. They are much better
off where they are, and would be dreadfully in your

to put in the delicate plants safely. If one .turns
out to be five inches from the last, try to put the
next one 3 inches from it, so as to make the right
number of vines for the wall. A crookedness of.
line in the outer row of plants will show more than
any other unevenness, but nothing of this sort mat-
ters much compared with setting them out safely.

S.-if S

If your plants for transplanting vary in size and
promise, put the best ones at somewhat regular
intervals. If you plant some seeds and some
plants in the vine-bed, plant the inner row (Fig.
20) in seeds and the outer row in plants, each at
its proper season. Use your judgment; however,
and try to make the vines equally thick and good
around all parts of the walls. If you have a good
plant, and no empty place for it, pull up a puny

way while you are at work on the walls; but seeds,
if any are to be planted in the vine-beds, should,
as I said, be planted as soon as the beds are ready,
if it is not too early in the season.
Plant either seeds or plants two inches apart,
along all the long bed, near the inner edge, and
lengthwise of each of the four small beds near the
edges toward the main building. Or it may be
better to plant them in two rows, four inches apart
(see Fig. 20), so as to give more room to each one.
In transplanting, do not expect absolute accuracy
in the positions of the plants; the main thing is

J7w 16S



one and substitute the strong one for it. If any diamond of the string-work of the wall kept uncov-
plants die, try to replace them. Slips of honey- ered in training the vines would be better (see page
suckle may also be planted if you hope to make 543). You can mark it off at first by a red thread
in time a permanent house. wrapped around the outer string (see Fig. 21).

R 2ti.z

ig. 20.

4 rM 71M


In transplanting, take up the plants with as
much earth as you can around the roots, and press
the earth close and hard around them after they
are planted.
Whatever you plant, be they seeds or vines, water
when planted
and also late ev- M/
ery afternoon,
unless it rains,
especially for
the first week
or two. If you
have no water-
ing-pot take a
tin can and
punch a num-
ber of holes in
the bottom of
it with a small
nail, and pour
on the water
through this
till the plants / -
grow strong -"
enough to stand --.
rougher treat-
ment; or pay
the tinman ten
cents for a. watering-pot nozzle to fit on the spout
of some:old leaky coffee-pot. Leaking will not
matter much, but if the holes are too large, stop
them up with pieces of string pulled through, or
with lumps of warm wax pressed on inside.
Our house had elaborate plans for a window: a
pane of glass figured with white paint; but a large

Our small rooms had no windows; we wished
them as shady as possible.
As the vines grow, train them carefully every
day; tying them when twining will not answer.
Twine them always in the same direction in which
you find them
,t growing (see
Fig. 22). Vines
resist being
twined in a di-
rection different
from their nat-
ural one, so
decidedly as
even to untwine
themselves and
start afresh.
Aim to twine
them smoothly
up the sides of
the doors, and
to cover the
walls with them,
leaving the win-
dow uncovered
a fd neatly
-shaped out in
the midst of the
green leaves. If one part of the wall seems to be
getting thicker than another, train one or two of
its vines smoothly across into the thin place, and
sometimes even backward and forward over it, if it
is very thin and no vines are coming up from below
to cover it. When you first change the position
of a vine, the leaves may look upside down and



crooked, but they will come right very soon. If a
spray or a leaf continues withered for two or three
days, for any other cause than lack of watering, cut
it off; it only does harm.
You will need a great many seeds. Remember
that there. are white, purple, crimson, and pink
morning-glories, and try to choose your colors.
If half at least are white, the house will look
brighter. Don't trouble yourselves to keep the
plants of different colors separate for transplant-
ing, but mix the seeds, in about the proportion
you fancy. Chance patches all of one color here
and there on the walls will do no harm.
I have made these directions precise, knowing
that thus your difficulties may be lessened; but
of course a hundred irregularities might occur,
and many certainly will, unless you are too old
and wise to need a play-house; but the fun will be
all the same, and only very sharp eyes can see the
defects, under the vines.
The seats in our house were logs, except a bor-
rowed chair or two on occasions. A rustic table

was to be our crowning ornament, but proved to be
beyond our skill. There were also to be fortieres in
the small doors. Four yards of red calico known
as turkey-red would make two gorgeous" cur-
We like, even now, to recall the delight of our
house of string; and we enjoyed every minute of
its building. The grown people surely should
favor such an enterprise as this, and be willing to
help it along and give the needed explanations
now and then, for it is no mean summer school
for practical mathematics and engineering, with
many other useful lessons thrown in.
A grave old gentleman, who was visiting the
family, in wandering round the grounds early one
morning, came across our completed structure,
before the vines had grown much, standing fresh
and white in the dew, like a great fantastic cob-
web. He went into such raptures over the Fairy
Palace that we were covered with confusion and
blushes, while he made the whole tableful go out
on a pilgrimage to see it.



SING a song of April, sing--
April is the Baby Spring !-
Crying, pouting,- see him frown;
See the tear-drops trickle down
Till his little sister, May,
Tripping up so blithe and gay,
Shakes her daisies in his face,
Fills with sunshine all the place,
Tickles him with rustling grasses,
As she, softly laughing, passes -
Shakes him, saying, "Little brother,
You must now your sobbing smother;
You must brush your tears away.
Come and play, come and play!
Come and dance with sister May.
Chase away the rainy weather;
Come and let us play together! "

This is the way matters seem to Maria J. Ham-
mond of Baltimore,--who wrote the lines for you,
my chicks,- and I do believe she knows. Some-
how, the moment folks begin to feel and write
poetry, they get behind the almanac and into the
heart of things.
DEAR JACK: Once, when I was sent to the ice-
house to get some ice, I saw two mules thatbe-
longed to a man who also was getting ice. These
mules were hitched to the fence near a low apple-
tree, and the mule that was nearest the tree put
his head through the fence and managed to get
an apple into his mouth. But he did not eat it
right up, as many boys and girls would,-no he
held that apple in his teeth and drew his head
back again through the lence, and then actually
let the other mule take a bite of the fruit! I saw

this myself, and it was real nice to see the satisfied
air of the generous mule as he ate the rest of his
apple. Your little friend, FRANK D. P.

ORANGE, Jan. 20, I885.
SDEAR JACK: You ask in the January number
if any one has seen a cannibal ant. I have seen a
cannibal daisy-bug in the act of eating his com-
panion. I took 'two of the tiny bugs (about the
size of the point of a pin) that are found in great
numbers on the common field-daisy, and put them
under my microscope. In doing so, I accidentally
killed one, and presently I saw the living one begin
to eat the dead one. He seemed to suck the juices
from the body, because the parts became trans-
parent; and he would shake it as a dog shakes a
I should like to belong to the Agassiz Associa-
tion, but there is no Chapter near me, I think.
Your constant reader, FRED. K. W.
Why not start a Chapter yourself, Master Fred. ?

(An of.erfrom Deacon Green.)
MY good friend, Mr. Dan Beard, bids me show
you these fifteen feet, so to speak. He drew every
one of them; and now who can name the animals
to which they belong? One of them, the dear
Little School-ma'am says, cannot be called a foot-
but I hold that it belongs to an animal, all the
And now Deacon Green sends you this message:
He says that the boy or girl who sends him the
best set of answers in point of correctness, neatness,
brevity, yet naming the owners of these fifteen feet,
hoofs, and what-not, shall have a prize !
The prize is to be ST. NICHOLAS sent for one
year, with Deacon Green's compliments, either to
that clever boy or girl or to any friend that clever
he or she may name.
Also, he will send, as second and third prizes,
GAMES) for the second best, and the STRATFORD
third best list.
Don't write letters this time. Send, each, a
neat list addressed to Silas Green, care of The
Century Co., 33 East i7th St., New York; and
let your list be in this fashion (though of course I
shall not name them correctly):
Number I, Horse,
S 2, Camel,
S 3, Rat,
4, Elephant,
and so on to number 15. If you can not name all
the fifteen animals, name as many as you can.

MANY of my young folk have knocked at that
Golden-Gate question, and more are knocking.
Next month your Jack will open it.




S .3.



~- -

' -^



WHY, Pussy-cat mew,
How do you do ? [going to?
And where is the place you are
"I am going upstairs,
To say my prayers,
And when I get through,
I '1 come back to you,
To you, to you."

Oh, Doggie, bow-wow,
Come, tell me now,
Where did you hide
That bone, that bone?
"By the garden-gate,
And when it is late,
I '11 eat it alone, alone, alone!"

Dear Birdie pe-weet,
With voice so sweet,
Where did you learn
Your song, your song?
"Out in the green wood,
And if you are good,
I'll take you along, along, along !"

You dear little Mouse,
Where is your house?
I 'm coming to see you
Some day, some day.
"By the closet door,
You knew it before,
I wish you to stay away, away;
I wish you to stay away!"





TURN the small han palm side up,
Lock the fingers stiff storks;
And, now, what shall we ca them, pet?
Why, these are mamma's knives and forks!

Now turn them.over, keep them tight,
And drop the wrists, my little Mabel;
Ah, now we have a .surface flat,
Which surely must be papa's table!

Now point the two forefingers,-so!
And join the thumbs, my little lass;
SWhat shall we call this oval shape?
I think 't is grandma's looking-glass!

Now point the little fingers, too,
And let the hands rock to and fro;
Ah, here 's a cradle all complete
In which to put our Baby Bo!





MRS. PIATT'S charming poem, "In Primrose Time," which ap-
pears on page 497 of this number, with its sympathetic glimpses of
early spring in Ireland, will be appreciated by all the older readers
of ST. NICHOLAS. It will show, moreover, that to all classes in that
green island across the sea, as also, we hope, to ST. NICHOLAS readers
everywhere, the sweet yellow flower of the British Isles, that is so
welcome a spring visitor, means much more than it did to that all
too practical Mr. Peter Bell in Wordsworth's well-known poem:
"A primrose by the river's brim,
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more."
Mr. J. J. Piatt sends a letter to the Editor, accompanying Mrs.
Piatt's poem, written from Queenstown, the Irish port which all the
Atlantic steamers first "speak" on their eastward-bound trips, and
the town to which the verses refer: In this he says: "The leaves
of the primrose are soft, somewhat flannel-like in texture, and of a

pale-green color (they resemble mullen leaves in texture and color);
the flower is of a delicate light yellow. The primrose has always,
I suppose, been a favorite early spring flower here. One day last
spring it was used all over Great Britain to commemorate the anni-
versary of Lord Beaconsfield's death. I saw many ladies and gentle-
men wearing it on the streets in Cork upon that day, and it was
reported that so great was the demand for the flower in London that
many orders for supplies were sent to France and Belgium."
Mrs. Piatt's verses, of course, have no reference to any political
sentiment associated with the primrose, but only to the "era of good
feeling" it seems to bring in, and the delightful new heaven and
earth of spring.

As announced last month, we print in this number the story-
"Myself, or Another ? "- which won the first prize in the recent
competition for the best story for girls written by a girl. The story
which won the second prize will appear in our next issue.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: 1 am a little girl nine years old. I have
rheumatism, and have come to Florida from Nova Scotia for the
sulphur baths. The water is quite warm, and rushes into the pool
from a natural spring at the rate of three thousand gallons a minute.
Green Cove is situated on the west bank of the St. John River, the
Indian name for which is Welaka, meaning "River of Lakes." A
few weeks ago I went up the Ocklawaha River; the name means
"crooked waters." The day was not very bright, and we did not see
any alligators or snakes, but saw lots of mistletoe, holly, sweet bay
trees in bloom, and air plants. In the evening we passed through
the cypress gates, where the river is only twenty-three feet wide,
just one foot wider than the boat, and the trees meeting overhead
form an arch. We reached Silver Spring in the morning; it is
seventy feet deep, and you can see down to the bottom, it is so clear.
I enjoy reading ST. NICHOLAS very much.
Your faithful little reader, BEATRICE E. K.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just begun to take you and
just think you are too good.for anything; my father and mother
gave you to me for a birthday gift. We live near the San Marcos
River; the river is a wonderful-one; it is formed from springs that
gush out of the rocks and form a river; it is a beautiful river; the
water is very clear; you can see the fish and turtles in the water.
We always start a rabbit when we are out walking; the woods are
very pretty; they are full of pretty birds and mosses. I have just
caught a pretty red bird. I am a Galveston boy; we came up here
on account of my father's poor health.
Yours truly, LLOYD COLEMAN Y.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been wanting to write to you for a
long time, but I was afraid I could not write a nice enough letter.
But now I thought I would not wait any longer, for I wanted to tell
you something so much. That is, that I have every volume of ST.
NICHOLAS nicely bound, from the very first volume up to the present
time. Some of them were printed before I was born, as I am only
ten years old; but after I began taking it, some kind friends gave
me the other books. My little sister loves you, too. I belong to
such a nice little club, which I thought I would tell you about,
for perhaps some of the little readers would like to hear about
it. We call it "The History Club." Every week some girls
and boys meet together at a lady's house, and she reads or tells us
of some historical characters. Just now she is reading us Tales
of a Gratidfather," by Scott. When she gets through we all have
a good time playing.
One who loves you dearly, MARGUERITE U.

SYDNEY, NEW SOUTH WALES, January 7, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We were all very much pleased to see our
letter in your magazine for last March, and we all thank you very
much for the kind notice you put in about it.
It is more than a year since we last wrote to you, and since then
we were all obliged to leave Bourke, on account of the drought; for
eighteen months there was no rain, and as we lived nearly five miles
from the township, we had to cart all the water from the river
(Darling), as our own dam had dried up.
Father was obliged to turn out twenty valuable horses on the com-
mon to take their chance, as they could get water at the river,
though the grass was all withered up. We think the poor beasts
must have died, as we never heard any more about them. There
was a perfect plague of flies, which stung our eyes and made them
very sore. We thought our little baby brother would have lost his
sight altogether, as his eyes were stung by a fly which poisoned the
lids. After suffering a great deal of pain he is quite well now.
Perhaps you would like to hear about our journey down. We
started on a Monday in February, Father driving us in a large buggy
with four horses. We drove all day long, only resting for dinner.
All the roads were covered with dead animals, horses, cattle, sheep,,.
kangaroos, and once we saw a dead emeu. From time to time we
saw flocks of thin kangaroos and emeus. Men were kept at the
dams on purpose to remove the sheep as they died on going down
to drink, the poor things were so weak. We saw numbers of the
dead and dying on the margins of 'the dams. One man told us that
often they had found as many as twenty sheep in the dam after one
night, and they dragged them out of the water and burnt them.
On many stations they chopped down trees for the poor animals to
eat. It was very hot and dusty driving, and often we drove all day
without seeing one house. We drove till Thursday, and about noon
reached Nyngan, where the Sydney Railway now extends. At
half-past one we started in the train and traveled all night, and got
to Sydney at seven o'clock on Friday morning. We were all very
glad our journey was over. I must tell you that before we left
Bourke our pet white cat (which we mentioned in our last letter)
was drowned in the well. Father got him out at last, but he had
been in the water too long before we knew of it, and was quite dead.
We were all so sorry as we were very fond of him.
Our kind grandmama still sends us your magazine. The heat in
Bourke was very great--20o in the shade, and we were all very
glad to get away.
Now, dear ST. NICHOLAS, we must say good-bye, wishing you
a happy New Year. We remain, your loving readers,

WE are glad to hear again from these three young friends, though
this second letter shows that even far-off Australia is not out of the
reach of misfortune and suffering. Many of our readers will remem-
ber with pleasure the interesting letter which "Buttercup, Daisy,
and Violet" serit us eighteen months ago, and which was printed
in the Letter-Box for March, 1884.



i885.] THE LETTER-BOX. 555

CHICAGO, ILL., 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and I have taken
you for about six years, and I don't remember ever having read such
a funny story as Davy and the Goblin." Mamma, my sister, and
myself pretty near killed ourselves laughing. Sometimes we laughed
till we cried.
Hoping you may live forever.
Your little friend, SUSIE T. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you that we have had
orange trees in blossom ever since Christmas day, and now the
trees are full--all of them. The perfume from the trees is sicken-
ing. There has been ice here but twice this winter. I saw some-a
very thin coating-early, two mornings in succession, in my duck-
trough, that being the only water that had any ice. No one else
has 5een any here but myself. Last winter (for you know it was
severe North) there was plenty of ice here--the edge of the river
was frozen, and thousands of oranges were also lost by the freeze.
This winter we have had no such cold, but it has been cool ever
since Christmas,-not one warm Florida day a month, aid very wet.
But while you at the North are snow and ice bound, we have orange
trees in blossom, violets, roses, jasmine (the woods are full of them,
beautiful yellow flowers, climbing over tree and shrub), and other
flowers continually blossoming.
Your admiring little friend, F. C. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We live in a little place called Windsor
Terrace, between Prospect Park and Greenwood Cemetery.
We went skating this afternoon, and had a splendid tune. We
have not far to go, only a block, then through a hole in the fence.
There is a seat on the lake where we sit to put on our skates. We
are each eleven years old. We shall look for our letter in the next
ST. NICHOLAS. Your constant readers,
RosE and VIOLET."

DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl ten years old, and
my home is near New York. I left America last May, and crossed
the big ocean alone to meet my Papa in Liverpool. There was
another little girl in the saloon cabin, and we had nice times to-
gether. She went to Paris and I went to London. I am going
home in May. 1 have been to St. Paul's, seen the Tower of Lon-
don, Madam Tussaud's Wax-works, and we went to Westminster
Abbey. I have been in London six months, and never missed get-
ting ST. NICHOLAS. I would like all the little boys and girls to see
all the pretty sights I have seen the Lord Mayor's show, and the
Prince and Princess of Wales and their daughters, and the pleasant
days I have spent in the Zo6logical Gardens. I hope you will print
this letter, for I shall look for it when my brother sends ST. NICHOLAS
to me from New York. I hope ST. NICHOLAS will last till I am a
grown-up woman, for I love it so much.
Your little friend, CLARA V. J. F.

SUFFERN, N. Y., March, x885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I cannot let this month pass without writ-
ing to you. I like your stories very much and I am trying to learn
to read as quickly as I can, so as to be able to read the stories to
myself. I am sorry the snow is going, as we cannot have any more
sleighing." Your loving reader,
M. V. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been taking you as long as I can
remember. I believe Mamma took it before I was born; and ever
since I could read you, 1 have been devoted to you. Some friends
and I have a club in which we read aloud Dickens' works, and we
meet every Saturday. We have no badge, but we call ourselves,
"The Dickens Club." I have been reading Dickens all this winter;
also two of Sir Walter Scott's novels. From yours truly,
L.D. D.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our folks have been amusing themselves
this winter by a funny little game; and we think that perhaps some
of your other readers might enjoy it too, if they knew it. Each player
draws a little picture representing a certain subject and then passes
his picture to the next player without letting him or her know what
the subject was that he meant to represent. The player receiving
the picture writes below it his idea of its meaning, then he folds over
the edge to cover what he has written, and passes it to the next
player, who does the same, and soon, until the paper containing the
drawing and the titles written beneath it returns to the player who
made the drawing. Then the artist reads first the real title or sub-

ject of his drawing, and then the titles which the other players
have given it We send you a few of the drawings made by our
home folks, which will explain the game to you better than we can.
Good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS, from your loving friends,

[Subject which the artist really intended to illustrate: The discovery
The title which Uncle John gave to the picture: Celebration in
honor of the boat-race."
Mamma's tite: Frightful explosion of gas."
Big brother Jack's title: The effect of Gussie's piano playing."

S --

[Subject which the artist really intended to illustrate: Whituhgion
The title which Papa gave to the picture: French cook trying to
carry out the first direction in the receipt for making jugged hare;
-' First catch your hare,' the hare, at the moment of portrayal,
having obviously scored a point."
Uncle John's title: "The Land League defying the British Lion."
Mamma's title: "Wonderful discovery of a new member of the cat

[Subject which the artist really intended to illustrate: The Assyrian
came down like a wolfon tlhefold.]
The title which Mamma gave to the picture: "A scene on the Nile.
A native watching a crocodile trap from the banks of the river."
Big brother Jack's title: "Pharaoh, having occasion to cross the
Nile, makes a short detour to avoid crocodiles."
Uncle John's title: Egyptian keeper going to the Nile to feed his
pet crocodile, and baby hippopotami."

NEW-YORK CITY, January, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy, seven years old. I have
a robin, whom we caught a year ago last spring. He was very
young, and had fallen out of a tree. We had to feed him on bread
and milk with a stick, and he has traveled with us to different
places. He plays marbles and tag with me, and scolds me if I rub
my fingers on his cage. Yesterday I took all the perches out of
his cage to wash them, and he scolded so and made such a noise


that I had to put them back. He has a very fine voice, and sings a
great deal. Last spring he got out of his cage, and flew way down
the street, but he came back to us, and then again in the summer he
got away and returned.
I have a canary, a kitten, and a mocking-bird, but I like my robin
best. His name is Rob Roy. By and by I will write you another
letter. I am your little friend, J. LEGGETT P.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Ogden's monument is the center of the
United States, just above Fort Riley, and I live within three miles
of it, at Junction City. Fort Riley is a six-company post, but it
only has three companies of colored soldiers now. It is arranged
very nicely. Some nights when we look over the reservation, the
grass is on fire and looks very pretty. In the summer we drive over
to the fort and see the dress-parade and hear the band play. I like
the story about Kansas, in the January number, very much. One
of my uncles lives within three miles of Fort Harker. I have seen
the sunflowers so high and thick that you cannot see through, nor
over them. Junction City is a pretty large town of about 3500
people. We have a nice opera house, which is lighted with gas and
warmed with a furnace. We all had a merry Christmas and a
happy New Year and hope you had the same.
Yours, truly, BERTHA R.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live far out in the country, and our
nearest neighbor lives a quarter of a mile away. I live on a large
Southern plantation. Our house is called Annandale, and is very
large; it has galleries all around it, both up stairs and down.
I wonder what some of your readers will say when I tell you that
we gathered from our flower garden a beautiful bouquet of roses on
the 17th of December, and among them were some lovely Marshal
Niel buds.
My brother and I have taken ST. NICHOLAS ever since the first
number was published. I was a tiny girl then, too small to enjoy
it, but since I have grown larger I have read all the back numbers.
We have them all bound. I have a good many pets, one of which
is a little colt named "Rob Roy," who is very gentle, and when
I hold the baby on his back he will trot all around the yard.
We live seven miles from the post-office, and of course my brother
and I are always very anxious to read the ST. NICHOLAS as soon as
it comes; little Maimie is also very fond of having the pictures
shown to her.
Hoping that I have not tired the readers with this letter,
I am ever your devoted reader, HELEN J. HARRIS.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have read your interesting pages again
and again, and as I am going to get another bound volume of you
tkis year, I thought I would like to tell you about a little pet I have.
.I am eleven years old, and live in San Francisco. I have been in
the country for over six months, and am afraid I shall fall behind in
my studies when I go to school after the holidays, but I am going to
try to keep up. I have a pretty little Italian hound, named Gyp,
a little bigger than a large cat. I am very fond of him, and he re-
turns my affection, following me wherever I go, if I will allow him.
One Sunday he followed me to church (the little country church not
far from our hotel), and just as the clergyman was going to give out
the text for the sermon, I saw the little black form of my pet march-
ing up the aisle. You can imagine how mortified I was when he
deliberately walked up in the chancel and stood beside the preacher,
looking all over the church. Suddenly he espied Mamma and my-
self, and instantly rushed down to us. Oh! I wished the floor
would open and let me down under it when I was obliged to take
the culprit down, with a hundred eyes upon me. I took him home,
and then came back to the church; and though Gypie tried many
times after to follow me to church, he was, always successfully
stopped before he reached the church door. Perhaps this seems an
almost incredible story, but "naughty little Gypie" is sitting now
in the yard, and his little mistress is really writing you this letter,
and we will both-thank you very much if you will publish this in
your Letter-box." Your devoted little reader, GRACE.

We must heartily thank the young friends whose names appear
in the following list, for their kind letters, which we have not room to
print: Lizzie D. L., Lula Brown, Susie and Beckie Cadwallader, A.
P. Thomson, Fannie Mason, Grace Gaffney, Frances Bartow, M. L.
Nolan, Margaret McNama, Mdel Buett, Maud M. M., Laurie,
Claudine Bishop, Venice James, Jenny R. K., Beatrice M., Arthur
N. Starin, E. and J., Gertie C. R., Lucy Warren, Arthur L. Sam-
uels, Eva Brantly, Melville F., Mary P. B., A. W. R., A. B. Linch,
Blanche Owen, Bel M. P., Angelica G., May F. T., Harold Smith,
Eddie Billheimer, Nina and May, J. N. D., Margaret M., Altie and
Neva Foster, Charlie Hodel, Walter S. H., Fannie Shumway, Alice
Threy, L., X. Y. Z., Three Girls of Sunny Kansas," Alex. Doug-
las, Mabel Connor, Mabel Claire, Jessie C. Russell, Nellie M. H.,
Sallie N. Cleghom, Carl G., Bessie B. R., George A. Acken, God;
frey Pretz, K. A. W., Bettie Moremen, Annie Louise Denison, Ella
Maude F., Mamie and Renate Ruehrmund, Edith L. Fawcett, Lily
Wells, Bessie and Nellie, Daisy Poey.


"PAPA," said a little three-year-old a few days since, "let baby
smell the yellow daffodil. Now let him listen to it with his ear."
"Does the daffodil say anything to you, darling?" the father
"Yes, Papa, it says The Spring is coming.!' "
And now, not the yellow daffodil alone, but the coltsfoot shining in
its sunny corner by the brook, the arbutus peeping from the edge
of each lichen-covered rock, the furry-stemmed hepaticus, and the
glorious company of apple-blossoms, all are singing to us, "The
Spring has come."
Each year we listen more eagerly for the first song of the blue-
bird, and we even share the woodman's pleasure in noting the first
comfortable voyage of the noisy crow, as he floats through the hazy
air croaking in hoarse good nature his early prophecy of spring.
Now all the Agassiz Association is out-of-doors. Field-meetings
and excursions are the order of the month, and on April 28, when
the birthday of Louis Agassiz shall come again, nearly every
Chapter will observe that Tuesday in the wood or by the shore.


ance of the gentlemen whose addresses were given last month will
doubtless be sought not only by those who are exclusively devoted
to Chemistry, but also by those who feel the need of some chemical
knowledge to aid them in their work with minerals and plants. We
are glad, therefore, to add to the list then given the name of another
friend, who writes as follows:
PINE KNOLL, March 2, b885.
My DEAR SIR: I have been watching the work of the Agassiz
Association with a great deal of interest. In the Forty-sixth report,
I see that a chemist is asked for. Although chemistry is not my
special study, I will gladly render any assistance needed to those
who are studying that branch. I am pleased to see there is an in-
terest manifested in that science, and will endeavor to answer all
puzzling questions, and also give advice as to the best methods of
studying its mysteries to those who will send their letters to me, with
stamps for reply. I will also exchange specimens of birds, rocks,
shells, plants, etc., etc., from this section of Massachusetts for curi-
osities from other parts of the country, and give any other aid I
can to those who are making a study of Natural History.
Yours truly, ANDRE~W NICHOLS, JR.
P. 0. Address: Asylum Station, Essex Co., Mass.

THE successful study of Botany and Mineralogy requires some IN looking over the files of ST. NICHOLAS, we notice, what from
familiarity with the elements and their compounds, and is greatly the nature of the case has been unavoidable, that there are still very
facilitated by an acquaintance with Chemistry, so that the assist- many Chapters reports of which have never been quoted in the Maga-





zine. We have kept a careful record of these, and shall give each
its turn as rapidly as possible, always preferring, however, such re-
ports as are clearly written, well expressed, interesting, suggestive,
and short.

668, Brooklyn (I), has been troubled by two unruly members, and
asks what to do about it. Probably most Chapters have had more
or less trouble at times from this source. It is generally the result
of thoughtlessness rather than of perversity, and if the troubled will
have large patience, and if the troublers will stop to think what serious
injury they are doing to their Chapter by their inattention, most of
the annoyance will cease. In case there should be any member who
refuses to conform to the rules, after kind expostulation, his name
may be sent to us by the Secretary of the Chapter, or he may be ex-
pelled at once. Four earnest members make a better Chapter than
six, two of whom are not interested workers. This is a painful sub-
ject, and we trust we shall not be compelled to revert to it.
765, Detroit (G). The principal of our school is coming to our
next meeting, and we hope to get the teachers interested.-William
Warner Bishop, Sec.
(The shoe is usually supposed to be on the other foot!)

618, Central Village, Conn. We cleared $30 from a loan exhibi-
tion. With the money we bought seven or eight books, a poly-
opticon, and a small cabinet. While taking a tramp, we discovered
silver indications and garnets.-J. E. Shelden, Sec.
336, Auburn, N. Y. (B), has made a scrap-box. "We made a
box so large that/twelve cigar boxes fitted in it nicely. We then
printed labels, and set apart each box for a different study. We
have a room of our own, to which mail may be addressed- 13 Au-
relius Avenue."-Elmer Kelland, Sec.
670, Wrights Grove, IlI. (B). Last December the drawing-
teacher of the Lakview High School joined us, and since then we
have progressed splendidly. For each meeting one writes a sketch
of the life of some eminent scientist, while the rest gather notes on
his life, and other scientific subjects.-Myron H. M. Hunt, Sec. i
355, N. Adams (A). We are feeling very much encouraged.
Since our last report we have obtained twenty-four new members.
Two have left, so we are thirty-one. Encouraging, is it not? It
takes too much time for each member to answer questions, as we
have been doing this winter, so we have gone back to the old way of
having a few questions and a few essays. We expect to do good
work this spring. Four of the new members are teachers. The rest
are nearly all from the first year class in the High School, so that we
can have a large society when our class is graduated next June.--
M. Louise Radio, Sec.
453, Oswego, N. Y. (A). Our Chapter has increased from five
members to twelve. Our meetings are very interesting. Our most
interesting question was "To which kingdom does chalk belong? "
No. x said that chalk, being composed of the shells of animals,
belonged to the animal kingdom. No. 2 said that chalk was com-
posed of the shells, and not of the animals, and shells being com-
posed of lime made it belong to the mineral kingdom. No. i then
said that as shells were composed of lime, and lime was formed of the
decomposed parts of animals, shells and chalk belonged to the animal
kingdom. Well, sir, here I saw they were drifting too deeply into
science, and I advised that the question be carried over, which it
was, and if you can help us out of it you will do us a great favor, as
we have never been able to decide the matter satisfactorily. At one
of our meetings a lilac twig was shown covered with pyramidal
eggs. These grew into little gray caterpillars, of course very minute,
as the shape of the egg could only be seen by the use of the micro-
scope.-W. A. Burr, Sec.
[It is customary in the game of twenty questions to regard as
belonging to the animal kingdom all animal products, such as
silk, ivory, bone, coral, etc., so long as they retain their natural
structure. If bones are burned, the bone-ash is considered mineral.
The disintegration of the animal structure of limestone is so
complete that we unhesitatingly place it among minerals. In
coral, the structure is so well preserved that we should call it ani-
mal. Chalk is between the two, but had better be classed as min-
eral. The exact truth lis, that it is a mineralsubstance that has
been shaped by animal life, and afterward partially disintegrated.
The same principle will help you decide whether coal is vegetable
or mineral. What shall we say ofhoney ?]

387, Baltimore (E). We feel quite encouraged by the result of
the past month. The members take more interest and enter on their
various duties with more zeal than ever.- Edward McDowell, Sec.

WE must make a little parenthesis in our regular reports for this
interesting letter from Kioto, Japan:

DEAR MR. BALLARD: My object in writing you, is to try to form
a Chapter of the A. A. among the dozen or fifteen boys and girls of
the American professors in the Anglo-Japanese school in this city.
There is nothing I so much regret in my early education as I do the
lack of any incentive or training in using my eyes; and feeling
this lack, I mean to try to save as many boys and girls as I can
from a similar failure. Now, will it be possible for us to be recog-
nized? I will add that the ST. NICHOLAS is taken by several of the
families here. With the best of wishes.- C. M. Cady.
549, Linlithgow, Scotland. This Chapter since its formation has
done good work. Our papers and the reports of our excursions are
bound up in a volume. Correspondence is invited.--Wm. War-
drop, Gowan Cottage.
713, Old Chatham, N. Y. We now number 25, and are taking a
coursein Botany. Willsome one name this bird?- Length, 7 inches;
wing, 4 inches; bill, Y inch; tarsus, I inch; back and upper part
of head, ashy blue, flecked with dirty brown and gray; wing feathers,
grayish black, with upper edge reddish brown; under part of tail,
ashy gray; sides of neck and breast, white, flecked with brown;
bill sharp and conical.-R. W. Morey, Sec.


[To illustrate the interest taken in our Society by cdldren of a
larger growth," and one of the fields of usefulness opening to us,
we give entire the following letter, one of many of similar tenor,
withloklding only the writer's name.]
DEAR SIR: I am glad to be able to tell you that I have, with
several others, met this afternoon to form a Chapter of the Agassiz
Association. And I hope it will succeed. I have for ten years had
a kindergarten and school here, and some of my earliest pupils are
now big boys and girls, 12 and 14 years old, and I do not wish their
love and interest to drift away from me as they pass on to other
schools. I have been wondering how I could hold them together, and
keep up intercourse with them that would have an interest beyond
the mere feeling of old affection and childish association. And when
I saw your hand-book advertised in the Nation, a couple of months
ago, I sent to you for a copy, and saw it was the very thing I needed,
if I could carry it out. At first I shrank from the amount of work it
implied (for I am not very strong, and have a very heavy load on my
shoulders already, my mother being a great invalid, and thereby
giving me all the housekeeping cares, besides carrying on my school).
I showed the book to one of my boys, and he seized upon the idea
with such delight I could not find it in myheart to hesitate any
longer. So we have been talking about it to others, and interesting
them, and finally this afternoon some of- us met and formed our
Chapter. I had the nucleus ofa collection of curiosities in a box of
"rubbish" which had been given to me at various times, and.we
have already had some very nice and attractive curiosities given to
us. I have always been particularly fond of botany, and every
spring I have the children who are old enough read Gray's How
Plants Grow, and How Plants Behave. for reading books, and we
analyze flowers afterward. And through the summer botany is my
chief delight. I attend most of the free Saturday exhibitions of the
Horticultural Society in Boston, and last season I studied ferns, and
collected a great many of the common northern varieties. I think,
from my own strong leaning in that direction, and the equally strong
interest of another member who intends to join us, that botany will
be one of our leading interests. In addition to the boys and girls
from 8 to 14 years old, we will have several grown-up members, who
have expressed a strong interest and a desire to join us. We do not
wish to form a large Chapter at first, and yet it ic hard to limit it.
We would rather admit younger members very gradually, and as
they are fitted to do real work. I can do a great deal of preparatory
work in school,--object lessons, etc., with the younger ones,-and
the kindergarten is an excellent training for such an after interest.
Very sincerely yours,

272, Westiown, N. Y. Our collection of insects at the annual
county fair.-W. Evans, Sec.
729, Boston (F) ; 333, San Francisco (F) ; 564, Santa Rosa
(A); 684, Gilbertsville, N. Y. ; 603, Chicago (V); 711, Glens
Falls, N. Y. ; 730, Council Bluffs, Iowa; 753, Springfield, Mass. ;
439, Wilmington, Del.; 354, LitchlAd, Conn. ; 762, Baltimore
(J) ; 21, Nashua (A) ; 203, Framinghiam, Mass. ; 61o, Racine,
Wis. (B); 483, Albuquerque, N. M. ; 527, San Francisco (G) .
49x, Rochester, lnd.,; 738, Mt. Gilead, Ohio; 575, Spencer, Mass.;
and 680, Peoria, Illinois (E), all send excellent and encouraging
reports of progress. They are all, however, so nearly alike that it
would be monotonous to reproduce them side by side. Here is
one which in the main represents them all.
"Progressing splendidly. Have added two new members. Have
bought a microscope, and added several new books to our library.
We enjoy the reports in the ST. NICHOLAS very much. Enthusiasm
increasing. Have procured a room in which to hold our meetings.
We have a fair collection, and it is increasing."
[We hope this uniformity of successful endeavor and kindly
feeling of interest will remain unbroken. ]



Zanguebar gum, for amber.--M. S. Howland, 904 King Street,
Wilmington, Del.
Compact limestone, for other labeled minerals or birds' eggs.
Correspondence desired.- Ward M. Sackett, Sec. Ch. 741, Mead-
ville, Pa.
Dendrite, epidote, red. and purple porphyry, also sea curiosities,
i. e., sea-urchin, starfish, etc. Write first.-E.. G. Harlow, 32%
Neptune Street, Lynn, Mass.
Birds' eggs (side-hole), for same.-P. E. Kennedy, 125 Fourth
Ave., Cleveland, Ohio.
Minerals,-fossils, etc., for woods. Send list of woods, and stamp
for samples of wood showing shape. I want specimens.-L. L.
Lei:-, C.:.ipeharjci. N. Y.
rTe i.ljr-: .:., C'h 136 is now W. H. Righter, Columbia, Pa.
Minerals, mosses, lichens; and cones, for eggs, birds, minerals,
and books on taxidermy and geology.- Ray S. Baker, St. Croix
-Book on silk-worm raising, for two eggs of scarlet tanager. Write
first--R. S. Cross, Purvis, Miss.
No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
786 Tompkinsville,.S. I., N.Y.(A). 4..Graham Shaw.
787 Elizabeth, N. J. (A) ......... 4.'.Roy Hopping.

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
788 Lenox, Ohio (A)............i. .Della Mosher, Box 2.
789 Kioto, Japan (A)............z..C. M. Cady.
790 Kings Mountain, N. C. (A)... 5..W. T. R. Bell, Jr.
791 St. Louis, Mo. (F) .......... 6..C. E. Adams,
2804 Gamble St.
792 Pueblo, Col. (A)............ 6..Miss Marion Mertz.
793 Ashland, Ohio (A) ........... 7..J. D. Stubbs, Jr.
795 Delhi, N. Y. (A)............. 8..Wallace P. Hull.
796 Huntsville, Tex. (A)......... z7. Miss Jeanie Estill.
797 Bedford, Ind. (A) ............ 6..James D:'Rawlins.
798 Cedar Falls, Iowa (A) ....... 6..G. H. Cobb, -Bx 123.


97 St. Croix Falls, Wis.......... 6..Ray S. Baker.
164 Jackson, Mich ............... 9..Fred L. Ball.

Address all communications for this department to the President
of the A. A., MR. HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.



IN what poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes do the lines occur from
which the following pi is made ?
Hewn weak het litsove, trinew side;
Hewn stropu het mel-sudb, grispn si era;
Hewn silica sobmsol, rummes scene,
"Dub, leltti ersso! ripsgn si heer i "


I. IN porringer. 2. A capsule of a plant.
allotment. 5. To condescend. 6. To put on.

3. Cut off. 4. An
7. In porringer.

2. 4

most important person in that city.
CRoSS-WORDS: L. A governor of Algiers. 2. Close at hand. 3.
To assist 4. A pool or collection of water. 5. Self (a term used
in metaphysics). 6. Benefit. 7. One who creates. 8. Deception.
9. Called for a repetition of. so. From end to end. xi. Winter
vehicles. 22. Eats greedily. 23. A rich fabric. 14. A city or
Greece. 15. A prominent European nation.

EACH of the words described contains four letters. The zigzag,
beginning in the upper left-hand corner, will name what Longfellow
says "fill the air with a strange and wonderful sweetness."
Cross-words: x. The Christian name of an unfortunate queen. 2.

A young woman. 3. Indentations. 4. Without the sense of hear.
ing. 5. A glossy fabric. 6. To double over. 7. A fierce animal.
8. A useless plant. 9. A biped. ro. Useful insects.


I 5 9
2 6 o1
3 7 XT
.4 8 12

FROM I to 5, a father; from 2 to 6, precise; from3 to 7, to merit;
from 4 to 8, advanced; from 5 to 9, a confederate; from 6 to 1o, the
Christian name of Charles Lamb's sister; 'from 7 to Ix, an abode;
.from 8 to is, always; from r to 9, popishly; from 2 to 1o,-ofiginal;
from 3 to ix, zealous; from 4 to 12, eternally.
The letters represented by the figures from 5 to 8 may be .trans-
posed to form words meaning an appellation, a word iL-a." r, i..
be it," ignoble, and-part of a horse. .DYC.


I AM composed of seventy-four letters, and am part of a poem by
"H. H."
My 29-9-41-67-35 is an animal of the deer kind. My 4-66-33-48
is to withhold assent to.. My 38-x9-30-40-3 is to annoy. My 7-15
-56-22-42 is important. My 34-11-5-23 is part of the feet of cer-
tain animals. My 21-52-8-57 is the flesh of certain animals. My
72-6-12-24-62-73-58~49 is a fabulous monster; my 59-37-51-74-25-
60-65-27-39 is what he dwelt in. My 55-50-32-1-63 is part of a
rake. My 43-54-45-28 was the wife of Jupiter. My 61-7x1-6-x8-
36 is to bend. My 14-69-26-3r is a period of time. My 20-46-53is
a large body of water. My o1-44-47-13 is smoke. My 68-7o-64-
7-2 is to balance. CORNELIA BLIMBER."


4 5

2 .. 3

FROM x to 3, a portion of even ground; from 2 to 3, an uproar;
from I to 2, a fruit; from 4 to 5, to dissolve; from 6 to 5, a ditch;
from 4 to 6, to cripple. EDIPUS."



z88s.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 559

ILLUSTRATED DOUBLE DIAMOND. pate a grain, and leave that which. 4. Behead a country of Europe,
and leave to torment. 5. Syncopate vapor, and leave a stalk. 6.
------ Syncopate a fruit, and leave to gaze.
H. P. D.

My first is in spoke but not in hub;
My second in pail but not in tub;
My third is in can but not in will;
My fourth is in slope but not in hill;
My fifth is in cry but not in call;
My whole is a flower beloved by all.

S EACH of the words described contains four letters. When rightly
guessed, the initials will spell a landed estate, and the finals 'a rest-
S a dence. The diagonals, from the upper left-hand corner to the lower
S\ right-hand comer, spell a mass of floating ice; the diagonals, from
Sthe lower left-hand corner to the upper right-hand corner, will spell
a common lepidopterous insect..
CROSS-woRDS: I. A kind of food. 2. The part between tenor
000 and soprano. 3. Space. 4. Produced.

I. A. A fen. a. A variety of quartz. 3. A fast horse. 4. A
Shore. 5. Numbers of animals.
II. r. To efface. 2. A black bird. 3. To turn aside. 4. To
walt on. 5. To record. PAUL REESE.


ARRANGE the names of the ten objects pictured above, in such a
way that they will form a double diamond, which is a diamond that
forms new words when read across and:up and down.
SYNCOPATIONS AND BEHEADINGS. ACROSS:. A state carriage. 2. To draw out 3. A fermented
The syncopated and beheaded letters will- name a famous warrior beverage.- 4. .In creature.
and orator of ancient times. DowNWARDS: i. In creature. 2. A pronoun. 3. A girl's name.
x. Behead an infraction of law, and leave hoarfrost. 2. Syncopate 4. Regulation. 5. To frost. 6. A diphthong. 7. In.creature.
a European country, and leave to draw out into threads. 3. Synco- GOLDWIN G.

SHAKESPEAREAN NUMERICAL ENIGMA. HOUR-GLASS. Central letters, Bonaparte. Cross-words: r.
When pr.iud.p'e .Apni. dressed in all his trim, blubBered; 2. canOnic. 3. liNen. 4. tAr. 5. P. 6. mAn. 7.
Hath p-it \ pIr ,r it. i in. everything. paRty. 8. canTeen; 9. markEting.
Sonnet XCVIII. CUBE. From r to 2, fooled; 2 to 6, drives; 5 to 6, eludes; c to 5,
MONUMENT PUZZLE. C'rtr.l levr: Israel Putnam. Cross- ferule; 3 to 4, enrobe; 4 to 8, eroded; 7 to 8, tended; 3 to 7, es-
words: I. aSp; 3s; jkA cr. 5p. tEn. 6. aLe. -7. aPe. court; Ito 3, fee; a to4, dye; 6 to8, sad; 5 to 7, eat.
8. cUb. 9. aTe. io. faNcy. s: clAms. 12. raiMent. DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Shakspeare; finals, Wordsworth.
HALF-SQUARE. T. Compatriot. 2. Overreach (Sir Giles). 3. Cross-words: i. ShoW. 2. HalO. 3. AveR. 4. KinD. 5. SeaS.
Mecoriate 4. Procure. 5. Anuts: 6. Tears. 7. Rate. 8. Ice. 6. ProW. 7. EbrO. 8. AfaR. 9. RafT. ro. EacH.
9. Oh., o. T. ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA. The used key is always
itEr..r.O PYRAMIDt Across I. Parasitic. a. Tirades. 3. bright;- CHARADE. Car-pet.
Piled 4 Ea.. 5. M. PI. For weeks the clouds had raked the hills,
DIAMOND. I; T. 2. riel. 3 m Fumed; 4. Tempted. 5. Betty. And vexed the vale with raining;
6. Dey. 7. D. And all the woods were sad with mist,
Atr -,:F..r'i.iT '..'.L CL..--.E-:. i Eleemosynary: 2 And all the brooks complaining.
Alli.r 3 L'it-ilt:,ted. 4 PI'u..ipar..:.r 5. Scintillation "Among theHlls."
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 ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received before MARCH 20, from The Carters "- S. R. T.-Arthur
C.ide -- Hill T.:.r. "- Clifford and Coco."-" Pepper and Maria"--" P. K. Boo"-" Tiny Puss, Mitz, and Muff"-" Pernie "-Harry
MI i.'e.: -i. s --...; HitC.h,,:..: Heir., J. Sproat-Maggie and May Turrill-Dycle-" R E. Gents"-Trebor Treblig- Clara
and miir-.. f, %%i.. i:.p. .[ .
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before MARCH 20, from M. S. Keeler, 2-Jennie Short, 6-James
McDonald, i Susie Hubbel, a Juliet Breck, 3 J, and A. Logan, x Alice R. Douglass, I Mary A. Tilden, 9 Lucy M. Brad-
ley, 9- Herbert L. Chapin, 3-R. O. Haubold, r- Emily A. Whiston, 2 -WillieE. Dow, 4- Percy A. Varian, 6 -John, Kate, and
James, x-Sadie and Bessie Rhodes, 9-A. D. Baker, I -Peggy and Polly, 8- "Chickee," 2- Hallie Couch, 8-Josie Lanahan, 2-
Lottie Tuttle, 9--" We, Us, and Co.," 2-Edward C. Hall, r- Lawrence Veiller, --Florence and May, 6- Ada M., 6- W. S. Sy-
mington, Jr., I Lou H., 5 Charlie Parsons, I Paul Reese, 9- Robt. M. Jones, I -" Goose," i Godfrey Pretz, I D. C., a -
John Morton, i -Jennie F. Balch, 6-Annie Lehow, i-Judith, ro- "Tweedledee," 5-" Lynx," Genie and Meg, 3-M. Emme-
line Stearns, I Anna Calkins, a-- Genevra, I Effie K. Talboys, 9 Daisy Dunham, 2 Madcap Fane, I Reggie and Nellie, 8-
E. L. Hunnewell, 7-" Tweedledum," 3--Grace and Alice Galway, 5 Fanny, May, and D., 5 -"Betsey Bobbett," 3-"Pike Bustow,"
I--John.V. Arrighi, I--Lulu Weir, 4-Bayard Sweeney, x-Lillie Parmenter, 7-E. Muriel Grundy, xo-Jessie B. Mackeever, 6-
George Habenicht, --Willie C. Serrell and friends, 9-Fred and Will Kraus, Chimpanzee," 4-Lulu M. Race, 9- Laura Gor-
don, 3-"Puz," o- Edytha M. D., 8-" Geranium and Rosebud," --Gertrude and Josie, 3- "CEdipus," to-"Arthur Pendennis,"
6-" We Girls," 7 H. B. Saunders, 2 Fannie and Sophy, Locust Dale Folks," 5-Willie Sheraton, 4-"Pinkie," 7-
"Schneider and Snickelfritz," 4-Mertice and Ina, 6-"Shumway Hen and Chickens," ro-Jennie Dupuis and Edith Young, 8-
Heibert Gaytes, 7- Arthur L. Mudge, Chauncey G. Wellington, i- Arthur C. Anderson, 8- Eleanor, Maude, and Louise Peart,
- Geo..C. Beebe and John. C. Winne, 4 -Appleton H., 8 -B. Y., of Omaha, 9 Emily, Danzel, x- May Fisher, x Woodbury G.
Frost, Georgia and Grace, 9.

56S ST. -NI'CH LA S. AV.

_r-3 eru. vU t
___ {' th~S &o chcla~re

OUR artist, who goes out sketching every Saturday, has succeeded in hiring ''a bright, active boy to come for an hour,
on that day, to clean the Studio.


~ "T~-~;-~i~"~;~~ c-;Y~

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs