Front Cover
 Little dame fortune
 A string of birds' eggs
 Coasting in August
 The little stamp-collector
 Personally conducted
 A pleasant walk
 The unlucky urchin
 Sheep or silver?
 The reign of the roller-skate...
 Driven back to Eden
 What the flowers said
 From Bach to Wagner
 The brownies at the sea-side
 His one fault
 The Japanese creeping baby
 Ready for business; or, Choosing...
 The great blue heron
 Among the law-makers
 A water-museum
 The children of the cold
 The long train
 For very little folk
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association - Fifty-second...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00160
 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: VID00160
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
    Little dame fortune
        Page 722
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
    A string of birds' eggs
        Page 728
        Page 729
    Coasting in August
        Page 730
        Page 731
    The little stamp-collector
        Page 732
    Personally conducted
        Page 733
        Page 734
        Page 735
        Page 736
        Page 737
        Page 738
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
    A pleasant walk
        Page 742
    The unlucky urchin
        Page 743
    Sheep or silver?
        Page 744
        Page 745
        Page 746
        Page 747
        Page 748
        Page 749
    The reign of the roller-skate (picture)
        Page 750
    Driven back to Eden
        Page 751
        Page 752
        Page 753
        Page 754
        Page 755
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
    What the flowers said
        Page 759
    From Bach to Wagner
        Page 760
        Page 761
        Page 762
    The brownies at the sea-side
        Page 763
        Page 764
        Page 765
        Page 766
    His one fault
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
        Page 770
        Page 771
    The Japanese creeping baby
        Page 772
    Ready for business; or, Choosing an occupation
        Page 773
        Page 774
        Page 775
    The great blue heron
        Page 776
    Among the law-makers
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
        Page 783
    A water-museum
        Page 784
        Page 785
    The children of the cold
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
    The long train
        Page 790
    For very little folk
        Page 791
        Page 792
        Page 793
    The letter-box
        Page 794
        Page 795
    The Agassiz association - Fifty-second report
        Page 796
        Page 797
    The riddle-box
        Page 798
        Page 799
        Page 800
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


(SEE PAGE 727.)



[Copyright, 1885, by THE CENTURY CO.]



THE von Lyndons were a very "ssthetic" family.
The Herr Baron had been wounded in the war with
France, and had come home to Munich with a
limp which was declared to be far more graceful
than the ordinary gait of man, and this limp gave
him an excuse for devoting his time to bric-a-brac
and to his cabinets of rare old coins. He had a
very pretty wife, who painted figures and flowers
more or less true to nature; and a daughter, Gisela,
four years old, in looks a rosy little angel, but with
the record of needed chastisements which usually
belongs to most maidens of four years.
In the year of grace 1884, the von .Lyndons lived
in a modern Munich house, a fine new building;
but, nevertheless, the astonished stranger, upon
entering their doors, was whisked back in a trice
to sixteenth century days, the family being lovers
of old-time objects in furniture and equipment.
When this same stranger again appeared in the
street and looked at the horse-cars, telephone-wires,
and other modern contrivances, he was apt to feel
like a guilty ghost of the past, who, instead of fig-
uring in this nineteenth century, ought to be turn-
ing up stone toes in some dismal church as a
sixteenth century carving, for travelers with guide-
books to ponder over.
A boy in yellow stockings, knee-breeches, and
a long-tailed blue coat, gathered full around the
waist, opened the von Lyndons' door to visitors.
Recovering from their astonishment at this boy's
appearance, they were next confronted by verita-

ble suits of chain and plate armor, complete from
jambes to casque, stuffed out with make-believe
knights. On each side of the hall stood six of these
knights with halberds in their steel-gloved hands,
and with tattered banners hanging above their
helmets. Huge clothes-presses, with brazen li6ns'
feet, opened their heavily carved doors upon
recesses big enough to take in the whole family.
The inlaid floors were polished to a dangerous
degree of brilliancy. The plate-glass in the win-
dows had been replaced by dull little round panes
not larger than an Albert biscuit, set in lead; this
darkened the rooms considerably, but it gave them
"such a deliciously medieval look!" Faded,
moth-ventilated tapestry hung on the walls, and
old Venetian mirrors set deep in their crystal
frames gleamed dimly among the shadows, like
tiny dark pools peeping up from rocky banks.
Silver tankards, quaint old glassware and earth-
enware, and broken porcelain cleverly darned, or
riveted, with wire, comprised the table-service of
this consistently esthetic family.. They sat in
solid wooden chairs, time-blackened, slippery as
glass, with rigidly straight backs; and, to make
these more forbidding, beasts' faces and claws
started into rasping prominence from amid the
other carving. These chairs had been coaxed from
a private museum, and the price paid for them
would have given satin-covered ease to the whole
establishment; but anything so vulgarly modern
as comfort was opposed to all the Baroness von

No. 10.


Lyndon's ideas. If she had any furniture or orna-
ments of a later date than the sixteenth century,
she carefully concealed the disgraceful fact, and it
was a great grief to her that her husband refused
to eat saffron-cakes, lentils, and other dainties of
the past, instead of the more prosaic but perhaps
equally palatable modern dishes.
With this background of dingy relics of departed
grandeur, mother and daughter made a very win-
some picture in their fresh young beauty and their
aesthetic costumes carefully copied from old pict-
ures. The Baroness wore a clinging velvet skirt
with long-pointed bodice and puffed satin sleeves
of a different color from the dress, peaked satin
shoes worked with gold thread, and perched on her
blonde braids a coquettish little cap of white velvet
thickly embroidered with pearl beads and gold
thread, with a point over the brow and two gold
discs above the ears. A chatelaine of beautifully
wrought silver, studded with rough-cut turquoises
and carbuncles, hung around her slim waist, and
she carried one of the feather fans with handles a
yard long, with which patrician ladies used to rep-
rimand their daughters in days of yore.
At one time the Baroness gave away all her
fashionable dresses, and began to wear her antique
costumes in public. The result proved very un-
satisfactory; she attracted far more attention at
operas and concerts than the performers, an admir-
ing -crowd always assembled to watch her in and
out of her carriage, and at the end of a few weeks
she sent for her French dress-maker again, reserv-
ing her aesthetic robes for home wear only.
Gisela was a quaint little body in a blue velvet
skirt hanging in straight folds down to her baby
feet, a white apron closely plaited like a fan, wide
insertions of lace, a pink satin bodice, sleeves
puffed at the elbow, a carved and jeweled silver
chain around her plump neck, and a white lace cap
fitted closely over her head, leaving a little golden
fringe of hair peeping out across the forehead and
on her round, white neck.
She ate her bread-and-milk with ah apostle-
spoon, of which she had four, for her four birthdays;
and, like a mediaeval child, she was going to have
the whole twelve toward her wedding outfit, if the
stock at the antiquarian shops kept pace with her
growing years. She danced grave minuets; with
one chubby finger she played a tune on a crazy-
legged spinet; and she could tell story after story
about the pictures in heavy old books, studded
with jewels and decorated with silver settings and
clasps. Gisela's dolls were strictly sixteenth century
in their dress and belongings; they slept in a can-
opied bed, and took the air on the balcony in a
tiny white and gold coach with bunches of ostrich
feathers on the top.

Hugh Balbirnie lived in a cheap, shabby quar-
ter of the city, not very far distant from the von
Lyndons' picturesque dwelling. He too was a
lover of art, but he worshiped her in a different
way, working hard at painting, and succeeding
best with children's faces and figures, for whose
rosy prettiness he had a keen eye and warm admi-
ration. Like many other artists, he was very poor,
the little sum of money which came to him from
far-away Scotland barely meeting his few needs.
He slept on a cot in his studio, ate the coarsest,
scantiest food, and as for his clothes,- even among
shabby, careless artists, he was noticeably thread-
bare and down-at-the-heel.
He had decided talent, and was very industrious,
but success seemed as far away as when he came
to the strange city a year ago, and all his heart for
further effort often failed him. Then he would
remember his invalid sister Bessie at home, de-
pendent on him for support when the little money
left them by their parents- was gone, and he would
stretch a fresh canvas and hope for better luck.
Hugh Balbirnie knew that his work was good;
wise heads had assured him of that; but there
was an army of talented young fellows contend-
ing with him for fame, and the chances for suc-
cess in such a host is small when one has neither
friends, money, nor influence. He hung his lovely
child-faces in the exhibition-rooms; and they
were nodded at approvingly by gorgeously dressed
mammas, sometimes noticed in the journals, and
then forgotten. No one knew anything of Hugh
Balbirnie, and no one bought his pictures. If he
could but find one patron among the rich nobles
of the art-loving city, he knew that his fortunes
would brighten from that moment.
He spoke very little German, and was shy and
reticent with the other students, who left him alone
to brood over his troubles much more than was
good for him. He had debts, too, to torment him,
not having paid for his last frame and a fresh lot
of colors. As the weeks slipped away, leaving him
as obscure and unknown as ever, he made this
gloomy resolve,-he would sell his one valuable
possession, a small collection of coins left him by
his father, and send the money to Bessie. Poor
Bessie, she would not be greatly enriched, for the
dealers in old coins would give him a very nig-
gardly price, and he knew no one to whom he
might appeal for their real value. He would then
put aside his love and talent for painting as a
means of earning a living, would work his passage
out to Australia, and there begin life over again as
a common day-laborer.
In order to give himself one more chance, he
would finish the picture he was engaged upon at
the time-a ragged little orange-vender. If this



came back unsold, then farewell to fame forever, and
he would try to forget that for six years he had
toiled in vain to be an artist.
Full of such dismal thoughts, Hugh Balbirnie
sat in his studio one bright May morning, waiting
for .his model, the little orange-girl, whom Felix,
an acquaintance, had promised
to send.
It was a charmingly fresh morn-
ing; the trees in the park were
out in new spring suits, and they
turned and twisted to see them-
selves in the lake, like any fash-
ionable lady pluming herself
before her mirror. Doors and
windows were wide open every-
where to let in bird-music and
the sweet breath of flowers.
Gisela von Lyndon, having few
springs to look back upon, re-
membered none so bewitching as
this; she wished to go out alone
into the brightness, and for days
the naughty little maiden had
tried to escape nurse Lina's vigi- a-
lant eye and slip out of the house
without any big brown hand hold-
ing hers. To-day the sly mouse
managed to creep down the stairs
and out of the big door-way un-
noticed. She turned off the broad
street where her father lived,
and trotted complacently down a
rough, rambling street which of- |
fered great attractions at its win-
dows in the form of sugar cats and
ginger-bread men and women
with currant eyes.
People turned to look after the
strange little figure in its anti-
quated dress, but Gisela was bliss-
fully unconscious of anything
unusual in her appearance. She
returned their gaze with a friendly
confidence in her blue eyes, and
many a hard face grew softer in
the warmth of her sunny smile.
In all the motley crowd of people, busy and idle,
good and bad, she went her way unmolested, sing-
ing a quiet little tune to herself. A policeman, sus-
pecting for a moment the truth about her,-that
she was a little runaway, whose friends would soon
be in search of her,- took her hand for a few paces.
But she nodded and smiled up at him so sweetly, and
seemed so sure of her way, that he concluded some
of the painters in the artists' quarter were going to
put her in a picture, and so he let her go again.

After a while, Gisela's feet in her embroidered
satin shoes began to find the pavement very hard
and hot, and she rather wished she might slide her
hand into Lina's big strong fist. She was a plucky
little midget, however, and she did n't mean to cry
until affairs were very black indeed. Soon, at the


end of a dark stone court, the runaway baby saw
bright green willow branches waving above an open
door, with a room beyond, where somebody was
whistling "Bonny Dundee."- She went in without
ceremony and trotted over to the window, where a
pale young man with threadbare clothes and the
kindest brown eyes in the world sat at an easel
cleaning his brushes. Gisela had never seen Hugh
Balbirnie before,-for it was he,-but she knew by
childish intuition that in him she had found a



friend. Little did the struggling young artist
realize that the goddess Fortune had come to him
in this pink-cheeked lassie who seemed to have
wandered back from the girlhood of three centuries
ago !
Gisela climbed into his lap, laid her head con-
fidingly against his shoulder,- such a charming,
ridiculous little head in its tight cap fringed
around with baby curls,- and gave a comforta-
ble sigh of relief at having found a resting-place at

Felix found you," said Hugh; and he began pull-
ing his easel forward for a favorable light.
"I shall let my orange-girl wait for a while,"
he continued to himself, and try a study of a
patrician baby of the sixteenth century. I wonder
who dressed her so carefully and correctly; her
mother must belong to the theater. What is your
name, little one?" Hugh's German sufficed him
for this last question, and the child answered:
"Baroness Gisela von Lyndon."



last. Hugh was used to little girls coming to his
studio as models, but they were far less pretty than
this one, and never so good-tempered and affec-
tionate. A woman's eye would have seen at once
that the dainty elegance of this child's clothing,
the sheen of her hair, and the purity of her skin,
were not to be found among poor people's children
who were sent out to earn money as artists' models;
but Hugh Balbirnie's eyes, though tender and
sympathetic, lacked a woman's penetration.
"You are a decided improvement on the cab-
bage-woman's ragged daughter. I wonder where

Some fellow has painted her under that name.
A 'baroness,' indeed Hugh said to himself with
a laugh. I shall call her a baby Princess Mary,
or something that shall be a tribute to Scotland.
The child is strikingly picturesque, and I believe
I can make a success of her. I 'm very'much
obliged to Felix for sending her to me."
The two chattered together very amicably, one
in English, the other in a jumble of French and
German, and neither was in the least troubled
that they did not understand each other.
Hugh had a collection of hideous rag dolls and




~s 4c


a squirming wooden alligator for the amusement
of his youthful models; with these delights, some
barley-sugar sticks, ginger-cakes, and a big red
apple, Gisela sat down contentedly on a satin
cushion, and Hugh began to paint her with en-
thusiastic energy. She was accustomed to sit for
her mother's attempts at portraiture, so Hugh
found her a docile-enough subject. Nor was she,
like some models, inclined to criticise and com-
ment on his work; she troubled her small head
very little about what he was doing, and confined
her attention exclusively to her rag family and her
At the end of two hours, Hugh had made rapid
strides with his picture; he had caught the child's
unaffected, sweet expression with marvelous ac-
curacy, and while she took a half-hour's nap he
made a careful study of her costume.
When the little girl's face and attitude began to
show signs of fatigue, Hugh unlocked his tin
treasure-box to take out a silver piece as payment
for the morning's sitting. He noticed that his
stock of current coin was alarmingly low, there
being little left in the box but his father's collec-
tion of old pieces. His funds at that moment, as he
discovered soon afterward, were less even than he
He put a coin in Gisela's hand, with the injunc-
tion to keep tight hold of it, and take it and her-
self safely home to her mother, and to come to his
studio at the same hour on the following day.
Baroness Gisela von Lyndon, with her first earn-
ings clutched close in her fat little fist, trotted
along the street again in the direction she believed
led toward home. But she was mistaken; she
wandered aimlessly about for half an hour or more,
and then sat down on a door-step and began to
cry. A policeman, more sharp-sighted than the
last one, took her in his arms and carried her to
the station-house, where lost children were cared
for until claimed. The whole von Lyndon estab-
lishment, from the boy with the queer coat to the
Herr Baron, had been scouring the city for Gisela
since early morning; so after her appearance at the
police-station her distracted friends were notified
without delay.
The Baroness, in her delight at recovering her
lost darling, as a matter of course forgot the list
of dire punishments she had arranged for her.
"Here, Mamma, man said this was for you,"
the child said, opening her hand, which had so
faithfully guarded her treasure.
Why, Gisel, where did you get this? said the
Baroness, in astonishment. An old coin, and
of considerable value, I imagine."
Nice man with funny alligator gave it to me, and
he had dolls and ginger-bread with pink sugar on

it, and I went to sleep, and there was a big tree
outside all full of birds."
This rather vague account was all the little runa-
way seemed able to give of her morning's adven-
ture, and her friends were obliged to fill in the
gaps in her story with whatever their imagination
Look, Conrad, at the strange coin our naughty
little runaway brought home with her," said her
It 's a hirschgulden of 1679 There are only
nineteen of them extant, and I have thirteen. I
wonder who was fool enough to give that baby
such a prize ? A mistake, probably, and I don't
see how we are going to rectify it, Gisel's story is
so untrustworthy. If the fellow turns up, he shall
have his coin, or the value of it, refunded to him.
In the meantime I 'm very well pleased at this
addition to my collection," said the Baron, un-
locking his sixteenth century cabinet of ebony and

A few months later, all the wealth and fashion
of Munich were flocking to a great gallery to see the
latest display of the new paintings. The Baroness
von Lyndon, in mignonette satin and a Rembrandt
hat weighed down with cream-tinted feathers, sat
resting on a velvet sofa-perhaps not quite un-
conscious of the fact that she herself was a pict-
ure as charming as any in the gallery.
"Come with me a moment, Clara. I wish your
opinion upon something in the next room," said
the Baron, touching her on the shoulder.
For a minute the lady stood in speechless as-
tonishment before the life-size painting of a. little
girl--a very pretty, winsome little girl, sitting on
a satin cushion and ready to bury her pearly teeth in
a big rosy apple. She wore a sixteenth century cos-
tume, a close-fitting lace cap, blue velvet petticoat,
pink satin bodice brocaded in gold, a wrought sil-
ver chain round her soft, baby neck, and she had
white satin shoes worked with gold.
In the catalogue she was called "Princess Mary
of Scotland"; but she was Gisela von Lyndon, to
the life.
"Well, dear, what. do you think?" asked the
Baron, who keenly enjoyed his wife's amazement.
"It is a marvelous likeness. Who can have
painted Gisel's portrait so admirably from mem-
ory? It seems almost like witchcraft. Who is
the artist ? "
Hugh Balbirnie is the name accompanyingthe
picture. I think the mystery of the hirschgulden
is about to be explained. If I discover that this
artist enticed my child away for the sake of steal-
ing a sketch of her, Mr. Hugh Balbirnie will find
that he cannot buy my forgiveness with an antique



coin. However, we will not give way to anger
until we know the truth."
In this case, the truth was not hidden away in the
bottom of a well, but easy of access at Hugh Bal-
birnie's studio, whither Baron von Lyndon betook
himself that afternoon. Hugh's story was so
straightforward, and his face so honest, that the
Baron's suspicions were soon allayed, and before
he left the studio he was ashamed of himself for
having cherished them. Hugh was at the same
time troubled lest he had annoyed the von Lyn-
dons, and glad that he was likely to recover his
coin, which he had missed soon after his little model
had taken her departure.
I was in a rage at that little girl for not com-
ing to me again; one sitting was hardly enough
for what I wished to do. But I can understand
now, that it was not surprising that she did not
appear a second time," he said, with an amused

Hugh and his visitor parted excellent friends,
the Baron making the young artist promise to re-
new his acquaintance with "Princess Mary the
next day.
The picture soon found its way from the exhi-
bition walls to the von Lyndon drawing-room, and
the Baron sent Hugh a check which seemed fabu-
lous wealth to the poor artist. Gisela von Lyn-
don's portrait became the talk and admiration of
the fashionable world at Munich, and other paint-
ings by Balbirnie, which had been passed by un-
noticed, were now praised to the skies.
The Baron also bought Hugh's coins, for a sum
so generous that the young man decided to send
for Bessie.
And thus, thanks to Gisela,- who proved to be
a veritable Little Dame Fortune,-friends, fame,
and money, a goodly trio, had come to the poor
artist, and the discouragements of the past were
forgotten like the sufferings in a dream.



WHO knows Hebrew? Who knows Greek?
Who the tongue the birdies speak?

Here 's a set of meanings hid
As records on a pyramid.

What is meant by all these freckles,
Bluish blotches, brownish speckles?

These are words, in cipher printed
On each egg-shell faintly tinted;

Changeless laws the birds must heed.
What if I should try to read?

On the Oriole's, scratched and scarred,
This to trace I find not hard:
"Breasted bright as trumpet-flower;
Builder of a swinging bower,
Airiest dwelling ever seen,
In the elm-tree's branches green
Careless caroler, shall be
The little bird that sleeps in me!"



On the Blue Jay's, greenish-gray,
Dottings fine would seem to say:
" Chattering braggart, crested thief,
Jester to the woods in chief,
Dandy gay in brilliant blue,
Cruel glutton, coward too;
Screaming, gleaming rogue shall be
The little bird that sleeps in me "

On Bob Liicoln's, browny-white,
This is writ, if I read right:
" Gallant lover in the clover,
With his gladness bubbling over;
Waltzer, warbling liquid notes,-
Yes, and one that hath two coats!
Nimble, neat, and blithe shall be
The little bird that sleeps in me! "

On the King-bird's, creamy-hued,
Runs this legend: Sulky, rude,
Tiny tyrant, winged with black,
Big of head and gray of back;
Teaser of the hawk and crow,
Anrd of flies the deadly foe;
Short and sharp of note shall be
The little bird that sleeps in me "

On the Mock-bird's, bluish-green,
In spot and blot these words are seen:
" Prince of singers, sober-clad,
Wildly merry, wildly sad;
Mocking all the feathered throng,
Bettering still each bird's own song;
Madcap masker he shall be,
The little bird that sleeps in me !"









IT was on the afternoon of the very warmest
day in August that the children came running to
ene and eagerly asked:
May we go and slide down-hill with the other
children, Mamma?"
Being very busy at the moment, I only half un-
derstood the request they were making, and
replied, in a very absent-minded way:
"Yes, you may go."
But the next question recalled my wool-gathering
wits, and brought me to my senses suddenly.
"Please may we have this candle-end? Harry
says they have n't enough to go around, and Mag-
gie will surely bring you fresh candles at dark."
"Why-children!" I exclaimed, "what are you
talking about? Sliding down-hill in August! And
what are you going to do with that candle ? "
I presume my face must have expressed my ut-
ter amazement; for all the children began to
laugh and shout: "What's the matter, Mamma ?
you look frightened."
When the merriment had subsided, my little
son tried to explain :

There are some boys and girls from the village
out on the hill, and some from the hotel on the
mountain, and they all have brought their sleds.
Harry has brought his down from the attic, and he
says he will take us down, because we have n't any
sled. He wanted the candle-end."
"Take the candle, child; but what is Harry
going to do with it? I inquired.
I don't know, Mamma. Come out on the bal-
cony. Every one else is there," he cried.
It seemed such a puzzle to me, that I rose, put
away the letters I was attempting to answer, and
went out to see what was going on.
When I reached the spacious balcony, I was al-
most convinced that the whole valley had been
There were gathered at least twenty children
and half a dozen sleds. The boys were dragging
the sleds up the steep slope of the bill-side that
rose from the road in front of the house, while
the girls followed after as well as they could.
It was not by any means an easy feat to climb
this slope.




Though at a casual glance it seemed as soft and
velvety as a well-kept lawn, it was to the unwary
a delusion and a snare. The midsummer sun
shines down upon the Adirondack mountains with
as much ardor as on the city streets. Though the
nights are cool, frequently even cold, there are no
dews, and usually but little rain. So the short
thick grass that grows abundantly upon the sides
of the lesser mountains, or, more properly speak-
ing, the foot-hills, becomes somewhat parched and
smooth, and as slippery as ice. The children, then,
had before them quite an amount of hard walking,
but those children were like mountain-goats, hardy,
willing, and able to climb anything.
I watched them with interest. At last the top
was reached. Then, the sleds were turned upside
down, and I discovered the mystery of the candle-
end, for the runners were rubbed vigorously with
candles; this completed, the sleds were put in
proper position again, three children seated them-
selves upon each, and a gentle push started them
down the slope.

How swiftly they came! The slope was steep
but smooth; not a rock, stump, or stone on its
surface; there was no danger, and the sleds stopped
on the sandy road.
For two long hours this colony of children
coasted -till the grass was worn almost to the
roots, and the supply of tallow (which is indispen-
sable for this midsummer coasting) was exhausted.
They shouted themselves hoarse; they ran and
tugged and climbed until they were tired out.
After all the little ones were weary, we clder
people joined in the fun. I own to having made the
descent but once,-that was quite enough for me.
We read of speed that takes the breath away,"
and of going like the wind," and the rate at
which that sled came down that hill-side made me
realize what those expressions mean.
I never before had heard of this novel amuse-
ment; but, startling as it seemed at first, the
novelty soon wore away, and I became quite ac-
customed to the sight and sounds of coasting in

732 .

THREE months ago he did not know
His lessons in geography;
Though he could spell and read quite well,
And cipher too, he could not tell
The least thing in topography.

But what a change! How passing strange!
This stamp-collecting passion
Has roused his zeal, for woe or weal,
And lists of names he now can reel
Off, in amazing fashion.

I hear him speak of Mozambique,
Heligoland, Bavaria,
Cashmere, Japan, Tibet, Soudan,
Sumatra, Spain, Waldeck, Kokan,
Khaloon,-Siam, Bulgaria,- ,-

Schleswig-Holstein (oh! boy of mine,
Genius without a teacher!),
Wales, Panama, Scinde, Bolivar,
Jelalabad and Kandahar,
Cabul, Deccan, Helvetia.

And now he longs for more Hong-Kongs,
A Rampour, a Mauritius,
Greece, Borneo, Fernando Po,-
And how much else no one can know;
But be, kind fates, propitious!












EAVING Genoa behind us,
we will now pursue our
Journey into other parts
of Italy; and in so doing
we shall find that the
various portions of this
charming country differ
greatly from one another.
The reason for this vari-
ety in manners, customs,
and even the appearance
of people and cities, is
Easily understood when
S we remember that the
great towns of Italy were
once independent powers,
each governing, not only
the country around it, but often holding sway over
large territories in other parts of the world. It is
only in late years, indeed, that all the various por-
tions of Italy have been united into one kingdom.
We are now going to Rome, but on the way we
shall stop at Pisa, because every boy and girl who
has ever studied geography will want to know if it
is standing yet, and if there is likely to be a great
tumble and crash while we are there. There is no
need of mentioning what it is, for every one knows
that there is nothing in the world so tall, which at
the same time leans over so much. As the whale
is the king of fishes, and the elephant the king of
beasts, so is it the king of all things which threaten
to fall over, and don't.
The scenery between Genoa and Pisa is very
beautiful, lying along that lovely coast of the
Mediterranean called the Riviera di Levante, but
there are reasons why we shall not enjoy it as much
as we would like. These reasons are eighty in
number, and consist of tunnels, some long and
some short, and all very unceremonious in the sud-
denness with which they cut off a view. As soon
as we sight a queer old stone town, or a little vil-
lage surrounded by lemon groves, or a stretch
of blue sea at the foot of olive-covered mountains,
everything is instantly extinguished, and we sit in
the dark; then there is another view which is just
as quickly cut off, and so this amusement goes on

for the whole distance, which is only a little over
a hundred miles. There is an old story, once
told to a story-loving king, about an immense
barn, filled to the top with wheat, and a vast
swarm of locusts. There was a little hole in
the roof, and first one locust went in and took a
grain of wheat, and then another took a grain, and
after that another one took a grain, and then
another locust took another grain, and then the
next locust took a grain, and so on for ever so long;
until the King jumped up in a passion and cried
Stop that story! Take my daughter, and
marry her, and let us hear no more of those dread-
ful locusts."
The tunnels on the road between Genoa and
Pisa remind one very much of that locust story,.
If the city of Pisa had been built for the con-
venience of visitors, it could not have been better
planned. There are four things in the town
that are worth coming to see, and these all are
placed close together, in one corner, so that tour-
ists can stop here for a few hours, see the Pisan
wonders without the necessity of running all over
town to find them, and then go on their way. Like
every one else, then, we will go directly to the
north-west corner of the city, and the first thing
we shall see will be the great Leaning Tower of
Pisa. Every one of us will admit, I am very sure,
that it leans quite as much as we expected; and
at first the girls will not wish to stand on that side
of it where they can look up and see the tall struc-
ture leaning over them; but as the tower has stood
there for over five hundred years without falling,
we need not be afraid of it now. You all have
seen pictures of it, and know how it looks, with its
many circular galleries, one above another, each
surrounded by a row of columns. But none of us
have any idea what a queer thing it is to ascend
this tower until we try it. Inside, a winding
stone staircase leads to the top, and although
the tower is one hundred and seventy-nine feet
high, and there are two hundred and ninety-four
steps, young legs will not hesitate to make the
ascent. If there is any trouble, it will be with the
heads; but as the stair-way is inclosed on each side,
there is no danger. The steps wind, but they also
incline quite a good deal, so that one always feels
a slight disposition to slip to one side. At each
story there is a door-way, so that we can go out
upon the open galleries. Here there is danger, if


we are not careful. When we are on the upper
side of the gallery, it is all very well, because the
floor slants toward the building, and we can lean
back and look about us quite comfortably. But
when we go around to the lower side, we feel as if
we were just about to slide off the smooth marble
floor of the gallery, which is only a few feet wide,
and that the whole concern would come down after
us. Nervous people generally keep off the lower
sides of the galleries, which have no protection
except the pillars, and these do not stand very close
together. This tall edifice was built for a cam-
panile, or bell-tower, for the cathedral close by; and
when we reach the top, we find the great bells
hanging in their places. One of these is an enor-
mous fellow weighing six tons, and you will notice
that it is not hung on the lower or overhanging
side of the tower, but well over on the other side,
so as not to give the building -any help in toppling
over if it should feel more inclined to do so. The
view from the top is an extended one, showing us
a.great deal of very beautiful Italian country; but
the main object with most
of us for climbing to the
belfry is to have the novel
experience of standing on
a lofty tower which leans
thirteen feet from the per-
pendicular. There is a
railing up there, and we
can safely look over. On
the overhanging side we
can see nothing below us
but the ground. The bot-
tom of the wall is not only
far beneath us, but thir-
teen feet behind us. On
the opposite, or higher,
side we see the pillars and galleries sloping away
beneath us. It was on the lower side of this belfry
that Galileo carried on some of his experiments.
There could not be a more capital place from
which to hang a long pendulum. Many people
think that the inclined position of this famous
tower is due to accident, and that the foundations
on one side have sunk. But others believe that it
was built in this way, and I am inclined to agree
with them. There are quite a number of leaning
towers in Italy, the one in Bologna being a good
deal higher than this of Pisa, although it leans
only four feet. They all were probably constructed
according to a whimsical architectural fashion of
the time, for it is not likely that of all the buildings
these towers only should have leaned over in this
way, and that none of them should ever have set-
tled so much as to fall.
The great white marble cathedral close by is

seven hundred years old. The front, orfafade, is
celebrated for its beautiful columns and galleries,
and inside there are a great many interesting
things to see-such as old paintings, mosaics,
and carvings, and two rows of sixty-eight ancient
Greek and Roman columns which support the
roof, and were captured by the Pisans when they
had a great fleet, and used to conquer other coun-
tries and carry away spoils. But there is one
object here which has been of as much value to
us, and to every one else in the world, as it ever
was to the Italians. This is a hanging bronze
lamp, suspended by a very long chain from the
middle of the roof. It was the swinging of this
very lamp which gave to Galileo the idea- of the
Near the cathedral stands the famous Baptistery,
which is a circular building with two rows of col-
umns supporting a beautiful dome, the top of
which is higher than the great bell-tower. The
two most notable things inside are the wonderful
echo, which we all shall wish to hear, and a famous

pulpit, covered with beautiful sculptures by the
celebrated Niccolo Pisano, or Nicholas of Pisa, as
we should call him.
The last one of this quartet of Pisan objects of
interest is the Campo Santo, or cemetery. This
is so entirely different from the one at Genoa that
we-shall take the greater interest in it from having
seen that. The first was modern, and nearly all
the statues were dressed in handsome clothes of
late fashions; but here everything is very old, the
great square building with an open space in the
center having been finished six hundred years ago.
The Crusaders who went from Pisa to the Holy
Land hoped, when they died, to be buried in Pal-
estine. But as the Crusades failed, they couldn't
make a Campo Santo there, but they brought back
with them fifty-three ship-loads of earth from
Mount Calvary, and this they placed in their
cemetery of Pisa, in order that they might, after





all, be buried in holy soil. And here they lie
now. The inner walls of the great quadrangle,
which is separated from the central space by open
arches and columns, are covered with enormous
paintings, very old and very queer, representing
the Triumph of Death, the Last Judgment, and
subjects of this kind, treated in the odd way which
was the fashion among painters centuries ago.
There are sculptures, ancient sarcophagi, and
funeral tablets ranged along the walls, and the
pavement on which we walk is covered with in-
scriptions showing what persons are buried beneath
it. Many of these people bear to us in point of
time the same relation that we shall bear to the
boys and girls of the twenty-fifth century.
There is not much else to see in the city of
Pisa. It is a quiet place, and nearly all the noise
is made by the women, who walk about in their
absurd shoes; these are slippers formed of a sole,
a very high and hard heel, and a little place into
which to slip the toes. Every time a woman
makes a step the whole of her foot, except the
ends of her toes, leaves the shoe, the heel of which
comes clanking upon the pavement. How they
manage to keep their shoes on, as they walk about,
I can not imagine, and the continual clinking and
clanking of the heels on the stone pavements make
a very lively racket.
But there was a time when this city made a good
deal more noise in the world than that produced by
'the shoes of its women. It was a powerful mari-
time power; its ships conquered the Saracens right
and left; it took possession of Corsica, Sardinia,
and other Mediterranean islands, and owned a
large portion of the Italian coast, and played a
very important part in the Crusades. But its power
gradually declined, and in 1406 it was actually
sold to the city of Florence, to which it belonged
for a long, long time. What thing more humili-
ating could happen to a city than to be sold-
houses, men, women, and children-to a master
which it did not like !
There are no tunnels on the road between Pisa
and Rome; but then, on the other hand, the
scenery is not very interesting. The railroad fol-
lows very nearly the line of a road built by the
Romans one hundred and nine years before the
Christian era. It passes through the Maremme,
or salt marshes, a vast extent of forest and swamp-
land. It is so unhealthy in summer-time that
it is deserted by all its inhabitants, who go off to
the hills.
It is a nine-hours' trip from Pisa to Rome, for
railroad trains in Italy are very slow, and it is
dark when we reach that great and wonderful city.
Not many years ago no railroad came into Rome,
and visitors arrived in carriages and stage-coaches;

but now we roll into a long, glass-roofed station,
and outside there are hotel omnibuses and car-
riages waiting for the passengers. The ideas
which most of us have formed of the city of Rom-
ulus and Remus have no association with such a
thing as a hotel omnibus; and as we roll away
through street after street, lighted by occasional
lamps, we see nothing through the omnibus windows
which reminds us at all of Julius Caesar or Cicero.
But, as we turn a corner into a large, well-lighted
space, we see something which we know, from
pictures and descriptions, to belong in Rome, and
nowhere else. It is the famous fountain of Trevi,
built up high against the end of a palace, with its
wide sparkling pond of water in front of it, its
marble sea-horses with their struggling attendants,
the great figure of Neptune sitting above all, and
its many jets of water spouting in fountains and
flowing in cascades., The fountain itself is not
very ancient, but the water was conducted from a
spring fourteen miles away to this spot by our
friend Agrippa, who built the Pont du Gard, which
we saw near Avignon. Now we feel that we are in
Rome, in spite of the omnibus.
We do not intend to see Rome according to any
fixed plan founded on the study of history, art, or
anything else. We shall take things as they come,
see all we can, and enjoy the life of to-day as well
as the ruins and the art treasures of bygone cent-
uries. On rainy days we shall wander beneath
good roofs in the palaces, the galleries, the churches
of the middle ages and the present; and in fair
weather we shall walk among the palaces and
temples of the Caesars, which have no roof at all.
There are three cities to be seen in Rome : the
Rome of to-day, the Rome of the middle ages, and
ancient Rome, each very distinct from the others,
and yet all, in a measure, mingled together. I
lived for some months in a portion of the city
where the street was broad and well paved, with
wide sidewalks; where the houses were tall and
new, with handsome shops in many of them;
where street-cars ran up and down every few
minutes, and most of the passers-by wore hats,
coats, and dresses, just like the people to whom I
had always been accustomed, and this street con-
tinually reminded me of some of the new avenues
in the upper part of New York. But if I went
around a corner, and down a broad flight of steps,
I saw before me a lofty marble column, nearly a
hundred and fifty feet high, around which winds a
long spiral procession of more than two thousand
sculptured warriors, with their chariots and engines
of war, and beneath which lies buried the great
Emperor Trajan. There is nothing about that to
remind any one of New York. Rome possesses but
one of these broad, wide avenues, with horse-cars


running through it, and the greater part of the
streets are as narrow and crooked as it was the
fashion in medieval times to make them. The
ancient streets, within the city, are only to be seen
where excavations have been made, for the Rome
of to-day stands on many feet of soil which has
accumulated over the city of the Caesars.

these people would not encroach on the room re-
quired for the great number of attendants, gladia-
tors, and all sorts of persons necessary to carry on
the games. It was built in the early part of the
Christian era, when Rome was still a pagan city.
The opening performance was a grand one, lasting
one hundred days, and I suppose that every Roman,


Nearly every one who comes to Rome wishes to
go, as soon as possible, to the Colosseum, which is
rightfully considered the greatest wonder of the
city, and one of the greatest wonders of the world.
Let us leave for a time the street-cars, the shops,
and the life of modern Rome,, and put ourselves in
the places of the old patricians and plebeians, and
try to get an idea of the sort of sport they used to
have. We shall find a great part of the massive
walls of this largest place of amusement ever built
still standing. In fact, more than one-half of it is
gone, but so much remains that we can scarcely un-
derstand that this is so. The form of the monster
building is elliptical, and one side still reaches to its
original height of four stories, and, even in its most
broken parts, portions of the second stories remain.
Thus we still see just what sort of building it was.
It contained seats for eighty-seven thousand specta-
tors. All the inhabitants of three cities of the
present size of Pisa could congregate here, and yet
there would be room enough left for the people of
nine small towns of a thousand citizens each; and all

man, woman, and child, came to the Colosseum on
at least one of these days, and very many of them
probably attended every day. The greater part of
the entertainment consisted of gladiatorial combats,
in which these men fought not only each other, but
wild beasts. I do not know how many gladiators
lost their lives during the inauguration of the new
building, but more than five thousand wild animals
were killed in the hundred days. At that time
hunters were always at work in Africa and Asia
catching wild animals for the Colosseum. Lions,
tigers and leopards, elephants, giraffes, and, after
a time, even rhinoceroses, were brought here to be
fought and killed. Wild animals were much more
plentiful then than they are now, when it is a very
expensive and difficult thing to get up even a
small menagerie. The arena where the games
were held was a vast smooth space, surrounded
by the great galleries, which rose in four tiers
above it, the top being open to the sky. This
space was temporarily planted by one of the em-
perors with hundreds of trees, so as to resemble a




small forest, and into this were let loose great num-
bers of deer, antelopes, hares, and game of that
kind; and then the spectators were allowed to
go down into the arena with their bows, arrows,
and spears, to hunt, the animals. At other times,
the whole of the arena was flooded with water so as
to make it into a lake, upon which were launched
ships filled with soldiers, and naval contests took
place. The Romans had grander ideas of amuse-
ments than any people before or since, and they
stopped at no expense or trouble when they wished
to organize a great show., Most of their entertain-
ments were of a very cruel character, and we all
know how thousands of Christian martyrs were
sacrificed in this arena, and how thousands of
gladiators who fought one another and wild beasts
perished here simply to amuse the people.
When we enter upon this open arena, we see
that nearly half of it has been excavated, exposing
a great number of walls and arches, down into which

denly shot up out of a trap-door into the open air,
where there was always something ready for them
to do. In other places there are inclined planes,
up which the animals came, and iron bars, still stout
and strong, behind which they stood glaring until it
was time for them to come out. There were great
entrances for the Emperor and the nobles; and all
around the outside there were eighty archways
through which the people came in. Each of these
entrances was numbered so that the people could
easily find their way to the different portions of
the.galleries to which they had tickets. We can
still plainly see the numbers from twenty-three to
fifty-four. Many of the ancient staircases leading
to the galleries yet exist, though they are very much
worn and broken, and are not now used; but some
of them have been restored to very nearly their for-
mer appearance, so that we can go up to the highest
gallery. The poorer people sat in the topmost row,
and long before we are up there, we shall feel sure


we can look, as into deep cellars. These extend
under the whole of the arena, and were not only
used as passage-ways for men and wild beasts,
but were necessary for the working of the machin-
ery, the trap-doors, and other contrivances used in
the games. In some places we can see the grooves
in which a sort of elevator was worked. The
savage beasts were driven through a narrow alley
into the box of this elevator, then they were sud-
VOL. XII.-47.

that this class of spectators was willing to do a great
deal of hard climbing for the sake of seeing the
shows. The stair-ways in use among the Romans
had very high steps, much higher than those in
use in our day, and the restorations have been made
as much like the old stairs as possible. Many of
us will be surprised not to find the Colosseum a
mass of ruins, incumbered with the rubbish and
overgrown with vines and the moss of ages. Instead



of this, everything is in excellent order; the arena,
where it has not been dug away, is smooth and
clean, and the pieces of marble and broken columns
are piled up neatly about the sides; the galleries
are all clear and open to visitors and there are
railings where the parapets have been broken.
We can fearlessly walk over all the parts that are
left standing, and can pass through the great
vaulted passages which extend behind the long
tiers of seats, and then we can go out upon the
open galleries.
The Colosseum does not owe its present state of
partial ruin to the ravages of time. It was built
to stand for very many centuries. In the Middle
Ages it was used as a fortress, and was still strong
and in comparatively good order in the beginning
of the fourteenth century. Then the nobles of
Rome began to tear it down and to use it as build-
ing material for their palaces. Some of the finest
edifices in the city are built with stones taken from
the poor old Colosseum, to which people came for
building material, just as if it had been a stone
quarry. This went on until 1740, when Pope
Benedict XIV put a stop to it; and since then
successive popes have taken a great deal of care
of the famous ruins, putting up immense buttresses
of brick-work, whenever it was necessary, to sup-
port the broken parts of the walls. Fortunately,
the greater part of the demolition has been done
on one side, but nearly all the marble with which
the stone-work was faced is gone.
We have much greater privileges, as we ramble
about, than the Roman populace ever had. We can,
if we like, go down into the passages and curious
places under the buildings, where the old-time spec-
tators were not allowed to go; we can walk around
the first gallery, which was occupied by the senators
and people of high degree; andwe can even enter
the place of the Emperor's box, which certainly no
Roman plebeians occupied. This is at one end
of the great oval, and commands a fine view of the
open space. The galleries were arranged so that
every one could see very well; but the fighting
men and animals must have seemed very small to
the people on the topmost rows. As we wander
about the lonely galleries and passages, we see
many things that seem to bring the days of pagan
Rome very near to us. Here are some loose bricks,
larger and thinner than ours, and of a yellowish
color; they look almost as good as new, and on
one side are stamped the initials of the maker, as
clean and sharp as if they had been made yester-
day; here are great square holes down which the
dust used to be swept after the performances were
over; and here are many channels and openings
ingeniously arranged to carry off the rain-water;
all of which have a very recent look. On the

lower floor we go through the door-ways which
lead into the arena and tread upon inarble slabs
worn by the feet of generations of gladiators, as well
as of Christians and other prisoners, who stepped
out here for their last fight. Under the Em-
peror's box is a passage made for the entrance of
the elephants, and it is interesting to see the great
beams which supported this floor; these are each
formed of enormous stones, not fastened together
in any way, but supporting each other by their
wedge-like shape, and extending across the space
in a horizontal beam, which five Jumbos, joined
in one, could not break down.
Among the most interesting relics of Roman
handiwork to be found here are the iron bars, as
large as the rails on our railroads, and fifteen or
twenty feet long, with which the immense stones in
the lower part of the building were bound together.
These are not old and rusty, but in good condi-
tion, with the spikes which held the ends together
still firmly wedged in where they were driven
eighteen hundred years ago, and the marks of the
hammers plainly to be seen on the edges of the
tough iron. All around the outside, of the walls
we see numerous holes; these are the places from
which many of these iron rods were taken out
in the Middle Ages, when iron, especially such
good wrought iron as this, was in great demand.
But we must not spend too much time in this
grand old place, because, interesting as it is,
there is so much more for us to see. Nearly all
visitors come to.see the Colosseum by moonlight,
if there happens to be a full moon while they are
in Rome, and we may do the same if we are
careful; but we must remember the fate of Daisy
Miller, in Mr. Henry James's story, and the fate
of a great many other young people w~ho are not
in stories. Rome, especially the ruined parts of
it, is very unhealthy after night-fall.
Rome is still surrounded by the great wall built
by the Emperor Aurelian, sixteen hundred years
ago. It is fourteen miles long, fifty-five feet high,
and there are now twelve gates in it. The present
city is a large one, containing about two hundred
and fifty thousand people, but it is not the great
city it used to be. About two-thirds of the space
inclosed by the walls is now covered by gardens,
vineyards, and the ruins of the temples, palaces,
and other grand edifices of ancient Rome. The
river Tiber runs through the city, and is crossed
by seven bridges.
One of the most lively parts of Rome is the
Piazza di Spagna, which is a large open space,
situated in what is called the Stranger's Quarter,
because near it are many of the hotels frequented
by visitors. Streets lined with shops lead into this
piazza; the middle of the space is crowded with




carriages for hire (sixteen cents for a single drive you choose to give for it. If we are fortunate, we
for two persons); and on one side rises the famous may see a company of these models dancing on
Spanish Stairs. This is a series of one hundred one of the broad platforms of the stairs. One of
and twenty-five stone steps, wide enough at the them plays a tambourine, and the others dance
bottom for sixty or seventy boys and girls to go up gayly to its lively taps; sometimes a boy and girl
abreast, and separating gracefully to the right and slip in among the others, and these two look pret-
left at several platforms. These lead
up to the celebrated Pincian Hill,
and at the top of the stairs is the
picturesque church of Trinita de
Monti. On bright afternoons a lot
of very queer people, who look as
if they had been taken out of pict-
ures, are to be seen sitting and stand-
ing on the steps of this great stair-
case. Many of them are children,
and some are very old people. The
boys wear bright-colored jackets,
knee-breeches, and long stockings, --" t
and shoes made, each, of a square:
piece of sheep-skin, with holes in the --
edges by which it is laced to the foot
by long colored strings which are
crossed many times around the ankles;
they wear very wide hats with peaked -
crowns, and often little colored waist-
coats. The girls wear shoes like the
boys, bright-colored skirts and bod- "- '-' "
ices, gay striped aprons, and a head- i
dress composed of .a flat, wide strip
of white cloth covering the top of
the head, and hanging far down be- ,.
hind. The women are dressed very
much the same way in red, blue,-
yellow, and white. The men, some nij
of whom have splendid white beards, t t 'r
are very fond of long cloaks with
green linings, feathers in their hats,
and bright sashes; and many of them
wear sheep-skin breeches, with the i
wool outside. These people have not
come out of pictures, but they all wish
to go into them. They are artists' T-( ---
models, and sit here waiting for some y .
painter to come along and take them
to his studio, where he may put them I a h -
and their fanciful costume into a pict- "I-
ure. They are often very handsome, SOME OF THE MODELS WHO FREQUENT THE SPANISH STAIiS.
but they look better at a distance
than when we are near them, for they are gener- tier than all the others, although they run great
ally not quite as clean as a fresh-blown rose; but risk of being crushed by their larger companions.
scattered over the Spanish Stairs in the bright sun- There are many artists in Rome, because there
light, they make a very pleasing picture. The is so very much here that is worth painting; and
children occupy their spare time in selling flowers, consequently there is a class of persons who do
and some of the little girls will never leave you nothing else but sit or stand as models.
until you have bought a tiny bunch of pansies or Many of these long stair-ways are to be found in
violets, which you can have for almost anything the streets of Rome, for the city is built upon hills,


as we all know, and these flights of steps make
short, cuts for foot-passengers, while vehicles have
often to go a long way around.
From the top of the Pincian Hill, a portion of
which is laid out as a pleasure-ground, we have a
view of a large part of the city, and, far off in the
distance, we see a great dome rising against the
sky. This is the dome of St. Peter's, the largest
church in the world; and now we will go down into
the piazza, take a carriage, and ride there. Most
of us have seen pictures of the church, and are not
surprised at the magnificent square in front of it,
and the great pile of buildings on one side, called
the Vatican, where the Pope lives. This palace
contains eleven thousand halls and apartments,
and there is a great deal in it that we must see,.
but we will go there some other time. I think
that most of us will find the interior of St. Peter's
even larger than we expected; and, indeed, it
is so vast that it takes some time to understand.
how big it is. The great central space, or nave, is
large enough for a public square or parade ground,
while in the aisles on each side of it, in the various
chapels, in the transepts, and in the choir or
chancel, there is room enough for seven or eight
ordinary city congregations to assemble without
interfering with one another. There are pictures.
and statues, grand altars, gorgeous marbles, and
a vast expanse of mosaic work in the dome and
other places. But, after we have seen all these,
the size of the church will still remain its most in-
teresting feature. The interior is so big that it
has an atmosphere of its own and at all seasons
the temperature remains about the same. If you
enter the, church in the summer-time, you will find
it pleasantly cool; and if you come in the winter-
time it will be warm and comfortable. As a rule,
the churches of Italy are cold and damp at all
times, but this is not the case with St. Peter's. In
regard to its permanent temperature, it resembles
the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. It ought to be
a large church, for it took one hundred and
seventy-six years to build it; and, although in that
period the workmen took one good rest of fifty
years, the building went on quite steadily the rest
of the time.
An excellent way to get an idea of the size of St.
Peter's is to walk around the outside of the church.
The entrances to some of the great art galleries
of the Vatican are only to be reached by going
around the back of St. Peter's, and as the cabmeri
of Rome do not like to drive around there, our
drivers will probably put us down at the front of
the church if they think we do not know any
better, and tell us they can not go any further,
and that all we have to do is to just step around
the building and we shall easily find the doors of

the gallery. But if we do this we shall step, and
step, and step, under archways and through court-
yards, and over an open square, and along a street,
all the time walking upon small rough paving-
stones, until we think there is no end to the cir-
cumference of St. Peter's. It is like walking
around a good-sized village; and the next time we
come, we will.make the drivers take us all the way
to the door of the galleries or they shall go with-
out their fares.
If we happen to be at the church on Thursday
morning, when the public is allowed to ascend to the
roof and dome (or, if we have a written permission,
any day will do), we will all make this ascent. A
long series of very easy steps takes us to the roof,
which is of great extent, and has on it small domes,
and also houses in which workmen and other per-
sons employed in the church have their homes.
Above this roof the great dome rises to the im-
mense height of three hundred and eight feet.
Around the outside of it we see strong iron bands
which were put there a hundred years ago, when
it was feared that the dome might be cracked by
its own enormous weight. There is an inner and
an outer dome, and, between these, winding gal-
leries and staircases, very hard on the legs, lead to
the top, which is called the Lantern, where we can
go out on the gallery and have a fine view of the
country all around. Those of you who choose can
go up some very narrow iron steps, only wide
enough for one person at a time, and enter the
hollow copper ball at the very top of everything.
When we look at this ball from the ground it
seems about the size of a big foot-ball, but it is
large enough to hold sixteen persons at once. On
our way down, before we reach the roof, we will
step upon an inside gallery and look down into the
church; and, as we see the little mites of people
walking about on the marble floor so far beneath
us, we may begin to wonder-that is to say, some
of us-if those iron bands around the outside of
the dome are really very strong; for if they should
give way while we are up there-- But, no
matter, we will go down now.
In returning from St. Peter's, we pass an immense
round building, like a fortress, which is now called
the Castle of San Angelo, but was originally known
as Hadrian's tomb. It was built by the Emperor
Hadrian in the second century as a burial-place for
himself and his successors. It is now used by the
Italian government as a barracks and military
prison. For hundreds of years it was occupied as
a fortress. An old soldier will take us about and
show us everything. But, just as we are about to
start on our rounds, we are obliged to wait while a
large body of soldiers march out; platoon after
platoon, knapsack and gun on shoulder, they




march by, tramp, tramp, until we are tired of see-
ing them. At last they all are out, and then we
go through the great building, with its many
courts, staircases, and rooms. In the very center
is the stone cell which was Hadrian's tomb. But
he is not there now; long ago his body and his
sarcophagus were removed, and the place for nine
hundred years has been the abode of the living, and

not of the dead. What was built for a pagan tomb
has been used for a citadel by every power which
has since ruled Rome. When it was a tomb, the
outside was covered with marble and statuary;
now, it is only a tower of brick.
Here we must stop, for it will not do to tire our-
selves, but in the next paper we shall continue our
sight-seeing in Rome.







v' -

"WHERE are you going, Miss Sophia?" asked
Letty, leaning over the gate.
I am going to walk," answered Miss Sophia,
"Would you like to come with me, Letty? "
Oh, yes cried Letty. "I should like to go
very much indeed! Only wait, please, while I
get my bonnet.! ", And Letty danced into the
house and danced out again with her brown poke
bonnet over her sunny hair. Here I am, Miss
Sophia she cried. '' Now, where shall we go ?"
"Down the lane," said Miss Sophia; "and
through the orchard into the fields. Perhaps we
may find some wild strawberries! "
So away they went, the young lady walking de-
murely along, while the little girl frolicked and
skipped about, now in front, now behind. It was
very pretty in the green lane; the ferns were so

soft and plumy, and the moss so firm and springy
under their feet. The trees bent down and talked
to the ferns, and told them stories about the birds
that were building in their branches; and the ferns
had stories, too, about the black velvet mole who
lived under their roots, and who had a star on the
end of his nose.
But Letty and Miss Sophia did not hear all
this; they only heard a soft whispering, and never
thought what it meant.
Presently they came out of the lane, nad passed
through the orchard, and then came out into the
broad, sunny meadow.
"Now, Letty," said Miss Sophia, "use your
bright eyes and see if you can find any straw-
berries. I shall sit under a tree and rest a little."
Away danced Letty, and soon she was peeping



c~h~c--- ~-~


and peering under every leaf and grass-blade; but
no gleam of scarlet, no pretty clusters of red and
white could she see. Evidently it was not a straw-
berry meadow. She came back to the tree, and
"There are no strawberries at all, Miss Sophia,
not even one. But I have found something else;
would n't you like to see it ? something very
"What is it, dear?.".asked Miss Sophia. "A
flower? I should like to. see it, certainly."
"No, it is n't a flower," said Letty; "it's a
WHAT ?' cried Miss Sophia, springing to her
feet. "
"A cow:" said Letty, 'A pretty spotted
cow. She 's'coming after me, I think."
Miss Sophia looked in the direction in which
Letty pointed, axid there, to be sure, was a cow,
moving slowly toward them. She gave a shriek
of terror; then, controlling herself, she threw her
arms around Letty..
"Be calm, my child!" she said;. I will save
you! Be calm!"
"Why, what is the matter, Miss Sophia ?" cried
Letty, in alarm.
Miss Sophia's face was very pale, and she trem-
bled; but she seized Letty's arm and bade her
walk as fast as she could.
"If we should run," she said, in a quivering

voice, it would run after us, and then we could
not possibly escape. Walk fast, my child I Don't
scream Try to keep calm !"
"Why, Miss Sophia!" cried the astonished
child. You don't think I 'm afraid of that cow,
do you? Why, it's "
"Hush! hush!" whispered Miss Sophia, drag-
ging her along, "You will only enrage the cow
by speaking loud. I will save you, dear, if I
can See, we are getting near the fence. Can't
you walk a little faster ?"
Moo-oo-ooo !" said the cow, which was now
following them at a quicker pace.
Oh! Oh! cried Miss Sophia. "I shall faint!
I know I shall! Letty, don't faint, too, dear Let
one of us escape. Courage, child Be calm Oh !
there is the fence. Run, now--run, for your
life !"
The next minute they both were over the fence.
Letty stood panting, with eyes and mouth wide
open; but Miss Sophia clasped her in her arms,
and burst into tears.
Safe !"' she sobbed. f' My dear, brave child !
we are safe "
"Yes, I suppose we are safe," said the bewil-
dered Letty. But what was the matter? it was
Uncle George's cow, and she was coming home to
be milked !"
Moo-oo-ooo !" said Uncle George's cow, look-
ing over the fence.



ON the shore of an island far away,
Stood a spirited youth, one summer day,
And thus he moaned to the moaning sea:

" Ah, sad is the fate that falls to me !
The cruel waves that around me roar,
They bind me down to this petty shore.
Oh, were I once on the other side,
I 'd seek the lion, and tame his pride!
And after the royal beast was slain,
As King of the Beasts, in his place, I 'd reign !

Ah, sad is our lot when a cruel fate
Represses and chains the brave and great! "








FOR weeks and months, affairs at the ranch on
the Lampasas pursued the even tenor of their
way, until, as Bessie declared one morning, it
seemed as if they had always lived there; and she
added: "If only Waldo and Uncle Cyrus were
with us, I should not care if we never lived any-
where else for ever and ever! "
What I like best," said Hessie, "is to go to
bed so early as to be able to rise before the sun
does. There never was anything, I am sure, so
perfectly lovely as the breaking of the morning
upon those green hills and these sea-like plains "
But before even Hessie or Bessie were up of a
morning, Old Jock was astir, and with his faithful
collies, Scotty and Laddie, was far away with his
flock upon the dewy hill-slopes. At noon the
sheep would seek of themselves the shade of the
live-oaks; and Jock, leaning against a broad tree-
trunk, would drift into a waking dream of "bonnie

Scotland," while his dogs kept zealous watch and
noted every prairie-hen, or prairie dog even, that
dared to show itself. Long ago the rabbits had
learned that they had nothing to fear from Laddie
and Scotty. The dogs would prick up their ears at
sight of these long-eared visitors, but would never
stir as if to say, Oh, we could catch you, but
we 've no time to waste on such ninnies as you;
our business is- sheep."
Toward four o'clock, the flock would be up and
grazing again, nibbling away as if for dear life, in
that hurried way of eating, peculiar to sheep. As
night drew on, Old Jock trudged slowly in advance,
the sheep following, the dogs in the rear or upon
either flank, until home was reached and the flock
was folded in for the night. There are scarcely
any wolves in Texas, the miserable coyotes not
being even worthy the name; and only an occa-
sional eagle would pounce down from the blue sky
upon some wandering lamb. So few were the foes
of the flock, that its care was seemingly the easiest
of tasks.
Ruthven was always busy. He, too, gave all



his energy to the mainstay of the ranch--sheep.
Every day seemed to bring him some new duty.
He paid a Mexican herder fifteen dollars a month
to look after a little "bunch" of mares and colts
he had out on the prairies. But he had to
look sharply after the Mexican. Other people's
" brands would become tangled among his cows
and calves, and an unbranded colt or calf was
very sure to be branded by unscrupulous neigh-
bors; while to keep the run of the colts and calves
was almost like counting the fish in the sea, so
vast were the grazing-grounds. Ruthven had al-
most to live in his saddle, sleeping on the grass
and in the open air night after night.
But I am always ready for that," he would re-
assure his mother. I always carry my coffee-
pot along, and a little ham and bacon. If I am
caught too far away to hope to get home, I jump

oatmeal all their meeserable lives. Eat, sleep,
gamble, lie, steal- that's a' they can do. Hech,
mon, gie me Scotland If I can contreeve to slip
awa' from that puir beastie o' a Don Quixote, I 'll
tak' the neist ship for Glasgow. Texas is na' the
land for me. It's a' sun, till one's vera banes an'
marrow are melted in it."
But Jock was to have a new experience. One
beautiful December day, he had gone further north
with his flock than was his custom. The sky was
cloudless. No wind was stirring. So sultry was
it that the sheep lay down earlier than usual, and
Jock dropped off into a sound nap after his noon-
day lunch. Suddenly he was wakened by his dogs,
which, without a command, had brought the sheep
to their feet, and were running about, endeavor-
ing to herd them homeward. Jock was enraged.
"That 's the one evil o' the collies," he said:


down from my horse near some timber or water,
stake the horse, boil a cup of coffee, broil a little
bacon, lie down with my head on my saddle, my
hat over my eyes, and sleep till the sun wakes me
Old Jock still grumbled away at Texas weather
and people.
"Look at the' puir Mexicans he exclaimed,
in much contempt. What are they guid for but
to eat red pepper and corn-cake, ne'er hearing' o'

" they wull bunch the sheep too much. Come in,
ye fules he cried to the dogs.
As he did so, he observed a small line of dark-
ness upon the northern sky. A flock of wild geese
went flying southward over his head, with warning
calls. A second flock followed; a herd of cattle
rushed past; and then a caballado, or drove of
horses, tails in air, galloped toward the shelter of
a southerly ravine.
Now, Jock had spent but one winter in Texas,




and that had been a reinarkabl: mild one. Think-
ing only of an early return to Scotland, he had paid
but little attention to instructions cone r ning a andi
he so despised. But he-knev. that cows, dogs,.
horses, every animal except -sheep, were, in thi.ir
way, wiser than men.: The d uk- band upon the
northern horizon grew still broader and darker;
the lightning fl .shed out of it again:and again, and
from before it came an increasing roar, as from an
advancing army, The air was very still, but grow-
ing cooler and cooler, as the sky grew darker and
Jock grew uneasy at these new phases of Texas
weather. Encouraging the dogs, he now set his
face homeward, followed by the flock.

ing storm and spurred-his mustang home. The
storm was upon the Lampasas when he reached
there, and Jock and the sheep were not yet in.
Ruthven at once summoned.Japero, the Mexican,
saddled a.fresh. horse. begged his mother to keep
a bright -light in, her window to the northward,
andgallope. out into the blackness.
The northern was at its height.
-"It will k;11 those Spanish .sheep said Ruth-
ven again and again; .'" So old a man as Jock ought
to have known that omethin; %was \urong. If we
but escape loss this time -"
A sound broke in un his niew resolutions,- the
bark of a dog. Greatly relieved, Ruthven reined
in his mustang, and, though unable to see anything


Hech, sirs! he exclaimed; "eh, my luckie !
Who 'd 'a' thocht it? And this is the northerr'
they've been din--din--dinnin' in ma ears. Ye '11
be sune ower. Fast cauld, fast het; I ken ye !
Tak' it out in howlin', will ye? Maist meeserable
land! wi' naithin' steady aboot ye, save the sun
and the weeckedness of the folk "
Suddenly, with a dense darkness of rain and
sleet, and roaring wind, the norther burst upon
him with full force. It was midwinter striking mid-
summer. At last Jock lost all idea.of direction,
and had to trust wholly to the instinct of his dogs.
Ruthven, riding back from Austin, where im-
portant business had taken him, saw the approach-

in the tempest, he could hear the sheep huddling
past him.
Yelling to Jock that he was there, Ruthven
shouted to Japero to go to the left of the flock
while he hurried off to the right. The dogs gave
a sharp bark of confidence, as if to say:
Follow us, master,! We 're. all right! We
know the road, if you don't."
The cold, the sleet, the rushing of the wind, the
.torrent-like downfall of the rain increased at every
step. The midnight darkness was like a stone
wall about them, Ruthven feared lest Jock should
drop behind and get. lost. But the old man's blood
was up. Except that the storms did not come quite





so suddenly and violently, this weather was more
like Scotland than anything Jock had yet expe-
rienced. He almost enjoyed it.
At last, after it seemed to Ruthven as if they
had been going for ages through the thick dark-
ness, and when he had begun to fear that they
might be on the wrong track, he saw lights twink-
ling through the storm. The dogs barked joy-
fully. The sheep seemed to understand, and moved
more rapidly. Soon bame the shelter, first of the
timber, then of the houses, and last of the fold,
and Ruthven uttered a fervent Thank Heaven !"
when the greatest danger was over.
But now the sheep needed instant care. For
hours Ruthven, Jock, and Japero were working
over them. Old Don Quixote seemed double his
size, so caked was he with ice and sleet. He hung
his head and was evidently tired as well as chilled.
Jock was in. his element now, dosing his flock
with warm mixtures, rubbing them down, feeding
them with oil-cake. A few logs rolled to the
windward .of .the fold, and far enough away to
avoid daflger, were set on fire, and the hot smoke
and cheerful light helped to make an island of
comfort ini the tempest:which roared around it,
Hessie groped her way through the storm with re-
freshment for the three workers,- an enormous pot
of hot coffee and bread and meat,- and her cheery
presence and lively ways came like sunshine
through the gloom and blackness of the tempest.
It is doubtful if old Jock slept at all that night.
When he went out at day-break next morning, the
storm was still raging. But the old man's joy was
complete-now that his flock was safe-when,
on the fourth morning, he found all the world
deep in snow, with a moist wind blowing from the
"Old Jock thinks that Texas has changed to
Scotland," said Hessie.
After these three days of storm came three days
of southerly wind, and at last Bessie said:
Here is Texas back once more "
The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the
prairies rolling off to the horizon all the greener
for their drenching, the air almost as balmy as in
Jock had little to say, but everybody noticed
that he did not, after this experience with a
norther, go so far away from the ranch as before,
and he had a trick of listening for the passage of
wild geese, and of glancing now and then toward
the north.
Yes, I wull gang hame," he said. "No sic a
country for me Weeriter at its wust wan day;
summer at its hottest the neist. What day did you
say the neist ship sails frae Galveston for Scotland,
Meester Ruthven ? It was gude for us the sheep

did nia perish. But it 's na any mair northers I
want. Nor what ye ca' blizzards, either. Blizzards !
Wha' iver heerd sic a word outside o' Texas?
Maist meeserable country of a' iver made What
did ye say war the name o' the ship ? Wednesday
neist, war it? You and Japero must learn a' ye
can aboot the sheep. I mun gang back hame."



AND while northers and sheep-farming were
taxing all the time and attention of the ranchers
on the Lampasas, away to the north-west the two
wanderers from home were living among the mar-
vels of that wonder-land of the world- the Sier-
ras of Arizona.
The whole country is much like what astrono-
mers tell us the moon must be- a wild region of
barren plains, upon which it would seem as if no
drop of rain had ever fallen or ever could fall;
an expanse of coarse, burned-up sage-brush; the
earth cracked with long baking; volcanic bowld-
ers scattered about, These are the plains; but
here, there, everywhere, run ranges of ragged
rocks rolling up into irregular hills, crags, cliffs,
mountains, and towering peaks topped with snow.
There could be no more striking contrast than is
all this to the verdant prairies and soft slopes of
the Lampasas.
Uncle Cyrus had been searching for metal among
the mountain ranges for weeks before Waldo joined
him, When Waldo reached Arizona, the uncle
and nephew struck off for themselves, and through
several weary months had been trying, map in
hand, to trace out the trail given to old Jock by
Hungry Wolf.
Not that they did not find a hundred indications
of precious metal,
"The whole country is chock-full of it," said
Waldo; "but what good does that do us? We
have n't the cash to develop it--to put up stamp-
ing-mills, smelting-furnaces, irrigating-works, or
to sink shafts. It's the old story of the Ancient
Mariner over again,

'Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink,'

only in this case the ocean is the desert. Never
does a man so really die for want of money as in
'this horrible land, which is full of it."
And yet think what luck some people have
had here!" said Uncle Cyrus. "Not ten miles
from where we are at this minute, Don Rodrigo
Gaudera, in the old Spanish days, found a solid
lump of 'virgin' silver that weighed two thou-


sand eight hundred pounds and was worth half a
million dollars."
But that was away back in 1683, Uncle," said
Waldo, who was well up in the history of the


country; "and little enough good did his 'find'
do the old Don, for the King of Spain coolly
pocketed the lump, under the claim that all won-
derful curiosities belonged to the crown."
"Well, come down to nowadays, then," said
Uncle Cyrus. Don't you remember the bonanza

of those miners at 'Tremendous Good Luck,' as
they called their claim. What did they do but come
upon a saddle-back plateau among the mount-
ains where silver lay about loose in lumps, and so
near the surface that
S -- -I they could grub them
out with their hands or
their bowie-knives as if
they were potatoes. But
all the same, Waldo, I
wish I had n't led you
Saway from the Lampasas
on this regular wild-
goose chase after silver."
"Oh, we must n't
give up yet, Uncle," said
the boy; not a bit of
it We 'll find Hungry
Wolf's silveryet, even if
we have had a terrible
time in trying to find it."
It had been a terrible
time, indeed. The mere
work of climbing over
rocks, trudging across
cinder plains, and delv-
ing desperately whenever
there were prosperous signs,
working as day-laborers at
St he great mining-works when
their money gave out, until
They could earn enough to push
on again,-these had been the
easiest part of it all. Cut off from
all socicet, i. without a book, a church, or
a Sunday rest since leaving the Lam-
S pasas; living in a perpetual fever of
excitement, their life had been a thor-
oughly demoralized, unwholesome, and
wearily u settled one. Fifty times Waldo
S haid be,:n on the point of urging his
uncle : to giie up and go home. But then
he would say to himself: "We would
c,.im-, arnd it. ..:,uld b like death to me to sneak
back in ras. without even a silver sixpence to
ah- foir our a iork. or to take back to the girls-
no:. I can't do ti-t r not now, at least. We may
find Hungry \\',:l,'s bonanza yet, but I wish we
had never stumbled upon him."
And, as Uncle Cyrus said, the time had not
been entirely lost. Waldo had vastly enlarged his
knowledge of nature--the plants and animals of
this wonderful district, the savage tribes that wan-
der over it, and the remains of past civilizations-
Spanish, Aztec, and even earlier dwellers and
builders. Once he had narrowly escaped the
clutch of a cinnamon bear, and once he had



zs85.] SHEEP OR SILVER? 749

caught a glimpse of a cougar, or California lion. He had visited the Zuiis in their own towns, and
learned to like the kindly-faced and rapidly decreasing Navajos. But his greatest interest had been
in the tribes of which he had heard that, making their villages in the depths of vast caiions, thousands
of feet deep and many miles long, they had never as yet seen, or been seen by, a white man.
I am writing this," he said, in one of his frequent home letters, "in the grand old cathedral of
St. Xavier del Bec, ten miles south of Tucson. Here is a church one hundred and fifteen feet long by
seventy broad, and built of stone and brick over a hundred years ago, full of beautiful statues and
magnificent paintings, grandly gilded and
dropped down here in this howling wil-
derness. Itmakes one feel almost as queer-
ly as when among the ruins of the cities "
that had perished from the knowledge of \
men before Cortez came."
"All of which is very interesting," Ruthven 3
had remarked at the time; but that is not the
silver Uncle Cyrus was to find for us. Thus far their
trip has evidently been a dead failure--although they
do not say so, of course. But theirs is no new expe-
rience. Of the hundreds of thousands that have gone on
the same errand since the first gold fever of 1849, not one
in ten thousand has done more than make his escape -a
poorer and a wiser man."
And so the search for Hungry Wolf's treasure went on.
Dispirited, but still hopeful, the two wanderers had pushed on
until, almost destitute of everything, ragged and weary from
months of hard labor and unavailing search,-they had pene-
trated to the wildest part of the Cerbat range of the great Sier-
ras. They had seen the lakes whose shores are crusted salt, the lime-
stone cliffs carved by centuries of tempests into arches and minarets,
domes and towers; -they had crossed the region of the hot springs,
had camped for a night in the jasper forest of petrified trees, and had
gazed upon, perhaps, the noblest sight of all, where, high above them,
the peak of Mount San Francisco towered thirteen thousand feet in air.
But. now they had arrived almost at the end of their patience, their
pluck, and their resources.
If this last clew fails," Uncle Cyrus said, as they sat down one day
in the heart of the Cerbat hills, we '11 give it up, Waldo, and go back to
the ranch, or to the silver-mills. But now, see here," and he pulled out
the worn and tattered map which had been based upon what the Apache had 4,
told Jock. "I have worked out this puzzle up to this point "-laying his C
finger on a certain spot on the map,- and I am satisfied that yonder is the
tunnel-like entrance to Hungry Wolf's caion. It is so deep, so long, so nar-
row, so dark, so winding, I doubt if mortal man has ever explored it. No "COME ALONG, WALDO! IT'S
white- man has, I am certain. As they say in hide and seek,' I am sure N OR R.
that this time we 're 'hot.' Who knows but we may come upon one of those
hidden Indian nations we have heard of; perhaps upon Hungry Wolf's bonanza itself? Come along,
Waldo It 's now or never I Look closely to your steps, and have your revolver ready "
They both were on their feet now, and nearing the great black mouth of the mysterious caion.
All right, Uncle; go ahead! said Waldo. I 'm with you to the last."
The manifold needs he had for money crowded upon the lad's mind as he strode on after his rotund
uncle a complete freedom from all indebtedness for the family; a thorough education for Ruthven,
his sisters, and himself; a whole flock of the very best imported stock for Ruthven and Uncle Cyrus,
if they fancied having the best ranch in the State; above all, a comfortable home and entire freedom
from all anxiety for his mother as long as she lived.
Go ahead, Uncle Cyrus he shouted again, and still more cheerily, I 'm sure we shall find -
something! "
(To be continued.)


'" "_


ift_ .
.: .....i. .. C-1_ -.:
..-': -_-. -





JUNIOR had good reason for bringing Merton to
a sudden halt in his impetuous and hostile advance.
The man coming up the lane, with a savage dog, was
the father of the ill-nurtured children. He had felt
a little uneasy as to the results of their raid upon
our fruit, and had walked across the fields to give
them the encouragement of his presence, or to
cover their retreat, which he now did effectually.
It took Junior but a moment to explain to my
boy that they were no match "for the two brutes,"
as he expressed himself, adding: "The man is
worse than the dog."
Merton, however, was almost reckless from
anger and a sense of unprovoked wrong, and he
darted into the house for his gun.
See here, Merton," said Junior, firmly, "shoot
the dog if they set him on us, but never fire at a
human being. You'd better give me the gun; I
am cooler than you are."
They had no occasion to use the weapon, however.
The man shook his fist at them, while his children
indulged in taunts and coarse derision. The dog,
sharing their spirit and not their discretion, started
for the boys, but was recalled, and our undesirable
neighbors departed leisurely.
All this was related to me after night-fall, when I
returned with my wife and younger children from
the Maizeville landing; I confess that I fully shared
Merton's anger, although I listened quietly;
You grow white, Robert, when you are angry,"
said my wife. "I suppose that 's the most
dangerous kind of heat white heat. Don't take
the matter so to heart; We can't risk getting the
ill-will of these ugly people. You know what Mr.
Jones-said about them."
This question shall be settled in twenty-four
hours! I replied. "That man and his family
are the pest of the neighborhood, and every one
lives in a sort of abject dread of them. Now, the
neighbors must say 'yes' or 'no' to the question
whether we shall have decency, law, and order, or
not. Merton, unharness the horse! Junior, come
with me; I 'm going to see your father."
I found Mr. Jones sleepy and about to retire, but
his blue eyes were soon wide open, with an angry
fire in them.
"You take the matter very quietly, Mr. Dur-
ham," he said; more quietly than I could."

I shall not fume about the affair a moment.
I prefer to act. The only question for you and the
other neighbors to decide is will you act with me ?
I am going to this man Bagley's house to-morrow,
to give him his choice. It 's either decency and
law-abiding on his part, now, or prosecution before
the law on mine. You say that you are sure that
he has burned barns, and made himself generally
the terror of the region. Now, I wont live in a
neighborhood infested by people little better than
wild Indians. My feelings as a man will not permit
me to submit to insult and injury. What's more,
it's time the people about here abated this nui-
"You are right, Robert Durham !" said Mr.
Jones, springing up and giving me his hand.
" I 've felt mean, and so have others, that we 've
allowed ourselves to be run over by this rapscallion.-
If you go to-morrow, I '11 go with you, and so will
Rollins. His hen-roost was robbed t' other night,
and he tracked the thieves straight toward Bagley's
house. He says his patience has given out. It
only needs a leader to rouse the neighborhood, but
it is n't very creditable to us that we let a new-
comer like you face the thing first.
"Very well," I said, "it's for you and your
neighbors to show now how much grit and man-
hood you have. I shall start for Bagley's house at
nine, to-morrow. Of course I shall be glad to have
company, and if he sees that the people will not
stand any more of his rascality, he '11 be more apt to
behave himself or else clear out."
He '11 have to do one or the other," said Mr.
Jones grimly; "I '11 go right down to Rollins's.
Come, Junior, we may want you."
At eight o'clock the next morning, a dozen men,
including the constable, were in our yard. My
wife whispered: "Do be prudent, Robert." She
was much re-assured, however, by the largeness of
our force.
We soon reached the dilapidated hovel, and
were so fortunate as to find Bagley and all his
family at home. Although it was the busiest
season, he was idle. As I led my forces straight
toward his door, it was evident that he was sur-
prised and disconcerted, in spite of his attempt
to maintain a sullen and defiant aspect. I saw
his evil eye resting on one and another of our
group, as if he were storing up grudges to be well
paid on future dark nights. His eldest son stood
with the dog at the corner of the house, and as


I approached, the cur, set on by the boy, came
toward me with a stealthy step. I carried a heavy
cane, and just as the brute was about to take me
by the leg, I struck him a blow on the head that
sent him howling away.
The man, for a moment, acted almost as if he
had been struck himself. His bloated visage be-
came inflamed, and he sprang toward me. .
"Stop !" I thundered. My neighbors closed
around me, and he instinctively drew back.
"Bagley," I cried, "look me in the eye." And
he fixed upon me a gaze full of impotent anger.
"Now," I resumed, "I wish you and your family
to understand that you 've come to the end of your
rope. .You must become decent, law-abiding
people, like the. rest of us, or we shall put you
where you _can't harm us. I, for one, am go-
ing to give .you a last chance. Your children
were stealing my fruit last night, and acting
shamefully afterward. You also trespassed, and you
threatened these two boys; you are idle in the
busiest time, and -think you can live by plunder.
Now, you and yours must turn the sharpest
corner you ever saw. Your two eldest children
can come and pick berries for me at the usual
wages, if they obey my orders and behave them-
selves. One of the neighbors here says he '11 give
you work, if you try to do it well. If you accept
these terms, I '11 let the past go. If you don't,
I 'II have the constable arrest your boy at once,
and I '11 see that he gets the heaviest sentence the
law allows, while if you or your children make any
further trouble, I '11 meet you promptly in every
way the law permits. But, little as you deserve it, I
am going to give you and your family one chance
to reform, before proceeding against you. Only un-
derstand one thing, I am not afraid of you. I 've
had my say."
I have n't had mine," said Rollins, stepping
forward. excitedly. "You, or your scapegrace
boy there, robbed my hen-roost the other night,
and you 've robbed it before. There is n't a man
in this region but believes that it was you who
burned the barns and hay-stacks; : We wont stand
this nonsense another hour.. You 've got to come
to my hay-fields and work out the price of those
chickens, and after that I '11 give you fair wages.
But if there 's any more trouble, we '11 clean you
out as we would a family of weasels."
"Yes, neighbor Bagley," added Mr. Jones, in
his dry, caustic way, think soberly. I hope you
are sober. I 'm not one of the threatenirl', barkin'
sort, but I 've reached the p'int where I '11 bite.
The law will protect us an' the hull neighbor-
hood has resolved, with Mr. Durham here, that
you and your children shall make no more trouble
than he and his children.. See?"

"Look-a-here," began the man, blusteringly,
"you need n't come threatening' in this blood-and-
thunder style. The law 'll protect me as well
as- "
Ominous murmurs were arising from all my
neighbors, and Mr. Jones now came out strong.
"Neighbors," he said, "keep cool. The time
to act has n't come yet. See here, Bagley, it's
hayin' and harvest. Our time's vallyble, whether
yours is or not. You kin have just three minutes to
decide whether you 'll take your oath to stop your
maraudin' and that of your children;" and he
pulled out his watch.
"Let me add my word," said a little man,
stepping forward. I own this house, and the
rent is long overdue. Follow neighbor Jones's
advice or we '11 see that the sheriff puts your traps
out in the middle of the road."
"Oh, of course," began Bagley. "What kin
one feller do against a crowd? "
Swar', as I told you," said Mr. Jones, sharply
and emphatically. "What do you mean by
hangin' fire so? Do you s'pose this is child's
play and make-believe? Don't ye know that
when quiet, peaceable neighbors git riled up to
our pitch, that they mean what they say ? Swar',
as I said, and be mighty sudden about it."
Don't be a dunce," added his wife, who stood
trembling behind him. "Can't you see ?"
"Very well, I swar' it," said the man, in some
Now, Bagley," said Mr. Jones, putting back his
watch, "we want to convert you thoroughly this
morning The first bit of mischief that takes
place in this borough will bring the weight of
the law on you"; and, wheeling on his heel, he
left the yard, followed by the others.
"Come in, Mr. Bagley," I said, "and bring the
children. I want to talk with you all. Merton,
you go home with Junior."
"But, Papa- he objected.
"Do as I bid you," I said, firmly, and I entered
the squalid abode.
The man and the children followed after me won-
deringly. I sat down and looked the man steadily
in the eye for a moment.
"Let us settle one thing first," I began. "Do
you think I am afraid of you?"
S'pose not, with sich backin' as yer got," was
the somewhat nervous reply. .
I told Mr. Jones after I came home last night
that I should fight this thing alone if no one stood
by me. But you see that your neighbors have
reached the limit of forbearance. Now, Mr. Bag-
ley, I did n't remain to threaten you. There has
been enough of that, and from very resolute, angry
men, too. I wish to give you and yours a chance.



You 've come to a place where two roads branch; them up?-Take the road to the right. Do your
you must take one or the other. You can't help level best, and I'11 help you. I'll let bygones be
yourself. You and your children wont be allowed bygones, and aid you in becoming a respectable
to steal or prowl about any more. That's settled, citizen."
If you go away and begin the same wretched life Oh, Hank, do be a man, now that Mr. Dur-

elsewhere, you 'llsoon reach the same result; you ham gives you a chance," sobbed his wife; "you
and your son' n ill be lodged in jail and put at hard know we've been living badly."
labor. Would you not better make ip your mind to That's it, Bagley. These are the questions
work for y6orself and family, like an honest man? you must decide. If you '11 try to be a man, I'll
Look at these children. How are you bringing give you my hand to stand by you. My religion,
VOL. XII.-48.


such as it is, requires that I shall not let a man go
wrong if I can help it. If you '11 take the road
to the right and do your level best, there 's my
The man showed his emotion by a slight tremor
only, and after a moment's thoughtful hesitation
he took my hand and said in a hoarse, choking
voice: "You 've got a claim on me now which all
the rest could n't git, even if they put a rope
around my neck. I s'pose I have lived like a brute,
but I 've been treated like one, too."
If you '11 do as I say, I'll guarantee that within
six months you '11 be receiving all the kindness that
a self-respecting man wants," I answered. Then
turning to his wife, I asked:
"What have you in the"iouse to eat ?"
"Next to nothing, she said, drying her eyes
with her apron, and thenthrowing open their bare
Put on your coat, Bagley, and come-withme,"
I said.
He and his wife began to be profuse with thanks.
No, no! I said, firmly, I 'm not going to
give you a penny's worth of anything while you are
able to earn a living. You shall have food at
once; but I shall expect you to pay for it in work.
I am going to treat you like a man and a woman,
and not like beggars.";
A few minutes later, some of the neighbors were
much surprised to see Bagley and myself going up
the road together.
My wife, Merton, and tender-hearted Mousie
were at the head of the lane watching for me.
Re-assured, as we approached, they returned won-
deringly to the house, and met us at the door.
This is Mrs. Durham," I said. My dear,
please give Mr. Bagley ten pounds of flour and a
piece of pork. After you 've had your dinner,
Mr. Bagley, I shall expect you, as we 've agreed.
And if you '11 chain up that dog of yours, or, bet-
ter still, knock it on the head with an ax, Mrs.
Durham will go down and see your wife about fix-
ing up your children."
Winifred gave me a pleased, intelligent look,
and said, "Come in, Mr. Bagley"; while Mer-
ton and I hastened away to catch up with neglected
"Your husband 's been good to me," said the
man abruptly.
That 's because he believes you are going to
be good to yourself and your family," was her
smiling reply.
Will you come and see my wife ? he asked.
Certainly, if I don't have to face your dog,"
replied Winifred.
I '11 kill the critter soon 's I go home," mut-
tered Bagley.

It hardly pays to keep a big, useless -dog," was
my wife's practical comment.
- In going to the cellar for the-meat, she lef6 him
alone for a moment or two with Mousie; and he,
under his new impulses, said:
"Little gal, ef my children hurt your flowers
ag'in, let me know, and I 'II thrash 'em !"
The child stole to his side and gave him her
hand, as she replied:
"Try being kind to them."
Bagley went home with some new ideas under
his tattered old hat. At half-past twelve hd was
on hand, ready for work.
"That dog that tried to bite ye is dead and
buried," he said, "and I hope I buried some of
my dog natur' with 'im."
"You 've shown your good sense. But I
have n't time to talk now. The old man' has
mown a good deal of grass. I want you to
shake it out and, as soon as he says it's dry enough,
to rake it up. Toward night I '11 be out with the
wagon, and we '11 stow all that 's fit into the barn.
To-morrow, I want your two eldest children to
come and pick berries."
I 'm in fer it, Mr. Durham. You 've given
me your hand, and I '11 show yer how that goes
furder with me than all the blood-and-thunder
talk in Maizeville," said Bagley, with some feel-
Then you '11 show that you can be a man like
the rest of us," I said, as I hastened to our early
My wife beamed and nodded at me. I 'm
not going to say anything to set you up too much,"
she said. "You are great on problems, and' you
are solving one even better than I hoped."
"It is n't solved yet," I replied. "We have
only started Bagley and his people on the right
road. It will require much patience and good
management to keep them there. I rather think
you '11 have the hardest part of the problem yet
on your hands. I have little time for problems
now, however, except that of making the most of
this season of rapid growth and harvest, I de-
clare I'm almost bewildered when I see how much
there is to be done on every side, Children, we
all must act like soldiers in the middle of a fight.
Every stroke must tell. Now, we '11 hold a coun-
cil of war, so as to make the most of the afternoon's
work. Merton, how are the raspberries ?"
There are more ripe, Papa, than I thought
there would be."
"Then, Winnie, you and Bobsey must leave the
weeding in the garden and help Merton pick ber-
ries, this afternoon."
"As soon. as it gets cooler," said my wife,
Mousie and I are going to pick, also."



Very well," I agreed. You can give us
raspberries and milk to-night, and so you will be
getting supper at the same time. Until the hay is
ready to come in, I shall continue hoeing in the
garden, the weeds grow so rapidly. To-morrow
will be a regular fruit day all around, for there
are two more cherry-trees that need picking."
Our short nooning over, we all went to our
several tasks. The children were made to feel
that now was the chance to win our bread for
months to come, and that there must be no shirk-
ing. Mousie promised to clear away the things
while my wife, protected by a large sun-shade,
walked slowly down to the Bagley cottage. Hav-
ing seen that Merton and his little squad were fill-
ing the baskets with strawberries properly, I went
to the garden and slaughtered the weeds where
they threatened to do the most harm.
At last I became so hot and wearied that I
thought I 'd visit a distant part of the upland
meadow, and see how Bagley was progressing.
He was raking manfully, and had accomplished a
fair amount of work, but it was evident that he
was almost exhausted. He was not accustomed to
hard work, and had'rendered himself still more
unfit for it by dissipation.
"See here, Bagley," I said, "you are doing
well, but you will have to break yourself into har-
ness gradually. I don't wish to be hard upon you.
Lie down under this tree for half an hour and by
that time I shall be out with the wagon."
"Mr. Durham, you have the feeling's of a man
for a feller," said Bagley, gratefully. I '11 make
up the time arter it gets cooler."
Returning to the raspberry patch, I found Bob-
sey almost asleep, the berries often falling from
his nerveless hands. Merton, meanwhile, with
something of the spirit of a martinet, was spurring
him to his task. I remembered that the little
fellow had been busy since breakfast, and decided
that he also, of my forces, should have a rest.
He started up when he saw me coming through
the bushes, and tried to pick with vigor again.
As I took him up in my arms, he began appre-
hensively :
Papa, I will pick faster, but I 'm so tired."
I re-assured him with a kiss which left a decided
raspberry flavor on my lips, carried him into the
barn and, tossing him on a heap of hay, said:
Sleep there, my little man, till you are rested."
He was soon snoring, blissfully, and when I
reached the meadow with the wagon, Bagley was
ready to help with the loading.
"Well, well!" he exclaimed, a little breathin'-
spell does do a feller good on a hot day."
No doubt about it," I said. So long as you
are on the right road, it does no harm to sit down

a bit, because when you start again, it's in the right
After we had piled on as much of a load as the
rude, extemporized rack on my market wagon could
hold, I added:
You need n't go to the barn with me, for I
can pitch the hay into the mow. Rake up another
load, if you feel able."
Oh, I 'm all right, now," he protested.
By the time I had unloaded the grass, I found
that my wife and Mousie were among the rasp-
berries, and that the number of full, fragrant, little
baskets was increasing rapidly.
Winifred, is n't this work, with your walk to
the Bagley cottage, too much for you ?"
Oh, no," she replied, lightly. "An afternoon
in idleness in a stifling city flat would have been
more exhausting. It's growing cool now. What
wretched, shiftless people those Bagleys are! But
I have hopes for them. I 'm glad Bobsey 's having
a nap."
"You shall tell me about your visit to-night.
We are making good progress. Bagley is doing
his best. Winnie," I called, "come here."
She brought her basket, nearly filled, and I saw
that her eyes were heavy with weariness also.
You've done well to-day, my child. Now go
and look after your chickens, big and little. Then
your day's work is done, and you can do what you
please; and I started for the meadow again.
By six o'clock, we had in the barn three loads of
hay, and Merton had packed four crates of berries
ready for market. Bobsey was now running about,
as lively as a cricket, and Winnie, with a child's
elasticity, A a; nearly. as sportive. Bagley, after
making up h,: hi il hour, came up the lane with
a rake, instead of his ugly dog as on the evening
before. A few moments later, he helped me lift
the crates into the market wagon; and then, after
a little awkward hesitation, began:
"I say, Mr. Durham, can't ye give a feller a
job yerself? I declar' to you, I want to brace up;
but I know how it '11 be down at Rollins's. He '11
be savage as a meat-ax to me, and his men will be
a-gibin'. Give me a job yerself, and I '11 save
enough out o' my wages to pay for his chickens,
or you kin' keep 'nuff back to pay for 'em."
I thought a moment, and then said promptly:
"I '11 agree to this if Rollins will. I '11 see him
Did yer wife go to see my wife ?"
"Yes, and she says she has hopes for you all.
You 've earned your bread to-day as honestly as I
have, and you 've more than paid for what my wife
gave you this morning. Here's a quarter to make
the day square, and here 's a couple of baskets of
raspberries left over. Take them to the children."


Well, yer bring me right to the mark," he said,
emphasizing his words with a slap on his thigh.
"I've got an uphill row to hoe, and it's good ter
have some human critters around that '11 help a
feller a bit."
I laughed as I clapped him on the shoulder, and
said: "You 're going to win the'fight, Bagley.
I '1l see Rollins at once, for I find I shall need
another man awhile."
Give me the job, then," he said, eagerly,
"and give me what you think I'm wuth," and he
jogged off home with that leaven of all good in
his heart- the hope of better things.
Raspberries and milk, with bread and butter
and a cup of tea, made a supper that we all
relished, and then Merton and I started for the
boat-landing. I let the boy drive and deliver
the crates to the freight agent, for I wished him to
relieve me in this task occasionally. On our way
to the landing I saw Rollins, who readily agreed
to Bagley's wish, on condition that I guaranteed
payment for the chickens. Stopping at the man's
cottage farther on, I told him this, and he, in his
emphatic way, declared:
I vow ter you, Mr. Durham, ye sha'n't lose a
feather's worth o' the chickens."
Returning home, poor Merton was so tired
and drowsy that he nearly fell off the seat. Be-
fore long I took the reins from his hands, and he
was asleep with his head on my shoulder. Wini-
fred was dozing in her chair, but brightened up as
we came in. A little judicious praise and a bowl
of bread and milk strengthened the boy wonder-
fully. He saw the need of especial effort, at this
time, and also saw that he was not being driven
As I sat alone with my wife, resting a few
minutes before retiring, I said:
Well, Winifred, it must be plain to you by this
time that the summer campaign will be a hard
one. How are we going to stand it? "
"I '11 tell you next fall," she replied, with a
laugh. "No problems to-night, thank you."
"I'm gathering a queer lot of helpers in my
effort to live in the country," I continued.
"There 's old Mr. Ferguson, who is too aged to
hold his own in other harvest-fields. Bagley and
his tribe "
And a city wife and a lot of city children," she
"And a city green-horn of a man at the head
of you all," I concluded.
"Well," she replied, rising with an odd little
blending of laugh and yawn, I 'm not afraid but
that we shall all earn our salt."
Thus came to an end the long, eventful day,
which prepared the way for many others of similar

character, and suggested many of .the conditions
of our problem of country living.
Bagley appeared bright and early the following
morning with his two elder children, and I was
now confronted with the task of managing them
and making them useful. Upon one thing I was
certainly resolved there should be no Quixotic
sentiment in our relations, and no companionship
between.his children and mine. Therefore, I took
him and his girl and boy aside, and said:
I 'm going to be simple and outspoken with
you. Some of my neighbors think I 'm a fool
because I give you work when I can get others. I
shall prove that I am not a fool, for the reason that
I shall not permit any nonsense, and you can show
that I am not a fool by doing your work well and
quietly. Bagley, I want you to understand that
your children do not come here to play with mine.
No matter whom I employed, I should keep my
children by themselves. Now, do you understand
this ?"
They nodded affirmatively.
"Are you all willing to take simple, straight-
forward directions, and do your best? I 'm not
asking what is unreasonable, for I shall not be
more strict with you than with my own children."
"No use o' beating' around the bush, Mr. Dur-
ham," said Bagley, good-naturedly; "we've come
here to 'arn our livin', and to do as you say."
"I can get along with you, Bagley, but your
children will find it hard to follow my rules, because
they are children, and are not used to restraint.
Yet they must do it, or there '11 be trouble at once.
They must work quietly and steadily while they
do work, and when I am through with them, they
must go straight home. They mustn't lounge about
the place. If they will do this, Mrs. Durham and
I will be good friends to them, and by fall we will
fix them up so that they can go to school."
The little arabs looked askance at me and made
me think of two wild animals that had been caught,
and were intelligent enough to understand that
they must be tamed. They were submissive, but
made no false pretenses of enjoying the prospect.
S" I shall keep a gad handy," said their father,
with a significant nod at them.
"Well, youngsters," I concluded, laughing,
"perhaps you '11 need it occasionally. I hope not,
however. I shall keep no gad, but I shall have
an eye on you when you least expect it; and if you
go through the picking-season well, I slhll have a
nice present for you both. Now, you are to receive
so much a basket, if the baskets are properly filled,
and therefore it will depend on yourselves, how
much you earn. You.shall be paid every day. So
now for a good start toward becoming a man and
a woman."




I led them to one side of the raspberry patch
and put them under Merton's charge, saying:
You must pick exactly as he directs."
Winnie and Bobsey were to pick in another part
of the field, Mousie aiding until the sun grew
too warm for the delicate child. Bagley was to
divide his time between hoeing in the garden and
spreading the grass after the scythe of old Mr. Fer-
guson. From my ladder against a cherry-tree, I
was able to keep a general outlook over iny motley
forces, and we all made good progress till dinner,
which, like the help we employed, we now had at
twelve o'clock. Bagley and his children sat down
to their lunch under the shade of an apple-tree at
some distance, yet in plain view through our open
door. Their repast must have been meager, judg-
ing from the time in which it was dispatched, and
my wife said:
"Can't I send them something? "
Certainly; what have you to send ?"
"Well, I've made a cherry pudding; I don't
suppose there is much more than enough for us,
Children," I cried, "let's take a vote. Shall we
share our cherry pudding with the Bagleys ?"
Yes," came the unanimous reply, although
Bobsey's voice was rather faint.
Merton carried the delicacy to the group under
the tree, and it was gratefully and speedily de-
"That is the way to the hearts of those chil-
dren," said my wife, at the same time slyly slip-
ping her portion of the pudding upon Bobsey's
I appeared very blind, but asked her to get me
something from the kitchen. While she was gone,
I exchanged my plate of pudding, untouched as
yet, for hers, and gave the children a wink. We
all had a great laugh over Mamma's well-assumed
surprise and perplexity. How a little fun will
freshen up children, especially when, from neces-
sity, their tasks are long and heavy !
We were startled from the table by a low mut-
ter of thunder. Hastening out, I saw an ominous
cloud in the west. My first thought was that all
should go to the raspberries and pick till the rain
drove us in; but Bagley nowproved a useful friend,
for he shambled up and said:
If I were you, I 'd have those cherries picked
fust. You 'II find that a thunder-shower '11 rot
'em in one night. The wet wont hurt the berries
His words reminded me of what I had seen'
when a boy,- a tree full of split, half-decayed
cherries,- and I told him to go to picking at
once. I also sent his eldest boy and Merton into
the trees. Old Ferguson was told to get the grass

he had cut into as good shape as possible before the
shower. My wife and Mousie left the table stand-
ing, and, hastening to the raspberry field, helped
Winnie and Bobsey and the other Bagley child to
pick the ripest berries. We all worked like beav-
ers till the vivid flashes and great drops drove us
to shelter.
Fortunately, the shower came up slowly, andwe
nearly stripped the cherry-trees, carrying the fruit
into the house, there to be arranged for market in
the neat peck-baskets with coarse bagging covers
which Mr. Bogart had sent me. The little baskets
of raspberries almost covered the barn floor by the
time the rain began, but they were safe. At first,
the children were almost terrified by the vivid
thunder and lightning, but this phase of the storm
soon passed, and the clouds seemed to settle down
for a steady rain.
"'T is n't goin' to let up," said Bagley, after a
while. "We might as well jog home now as any
"But you '11 get wet," I objected.
It wont be the fust time," answered Bagley.
"The children don't mind it any more 'n ducks."
Well, let's settle, then," I said. "You need
some money to buy food at once."
"I reckon I do," was the earnest reply.
There 's a dollar for your day's work, and
here is what your children have earned. Are you
satisfied ?" I asked.
I be, and I thank you, sir. I '11 go down to
the store this ev'nin'," he added.
"And buy food only," I said, with a meaning
Flour and pork only, sir. I 've given you my
hand on 't;" and away they all jogged through
the thick-falling drops.
We packed our fruit for market, and looked
vainly for clearing skies in the west.
There 's no help for it," I said. The sooner
I start for the landing the better, so that I can
return before it becomes very dark.'
My wife exclaimed against this, but I added:
"Think a moment, my dear. By good man-
agement we have.here, safe and in good order, thirty
dollars' worth of fruit, at least. Shall I lose it be-
cause I am afraid of a summer shower? Facing
the weather is a part of my business; and I 'd face
a storm any day in the year if I could make thirty
Merton wished to go also,but I said:
"No. There must be no risks of illness that
can possibly be avoided."
I did not find it a dreary expedition, after all, for
I solaced myself with thoughts like these:
Thirty dollars, under my wife's good manage-
ment, will go far toward providing warm winter




clothing, or paying the interest, or something
Then the rain was just what was needed to
increase and prolong the yield of the raspberry
bushes, on which there were still myriads of imma-
ture berries and even blossoms. Abundant moist-
ure would perfect these into plump fruit; and upon
this crop rested our main hope.
From the experiences just related, it can be
seen how largely the stress and strain of the year
centered in the month of July. Nearly all our
garden crops needed attention; the grass of the
meadow had to be cured into hay, the currants
and cherries to be picked, and fall crops, like winter
cabbages, turnips, and celery, to be put in the
ground. Of the latter vegetable, I set out only a
few short rows, regarding it as a delicious luxury to
which not very much time could be given.
Mr. Jones and Junior, indeed all our neighbors,
were working early and late, like ourselves. Barns
were being filled, conical hay-stacks were rising
in distant meadows, and every one was busy in
gathering nature's bounty.
We were not able to make much of the Fourth
of July. Bobsey and Winnie had some fire-crackers,
and, in the evening, Merton and Junior set off a
few rockets, and we all said, "Ah 1" appreciatively,
as they sped.their brief fiery course; but the greater
part of the day had to be spent in gathering the
ripening black-caps and raspberries. By some
management, however, I arranged that Merton
and Junior should have a fine swim in the creek, by
Brittle Rock, while Mousie, Winnie, and Bobsey
waded in sandy shallows, farther down the stream.
They all were promised holidays after the fruit
season was over, and they submitted to the neces-
sity of almost constant work with fairly good
The results of our labor were cheering. Our
table was supplied with delicious vegetables, which,
in the main, it was Mousie's task to gather and pre-
pare. The children were as brown as little Indians,
and we daily thanked God for health. Checks
from Mr. Bogart came regularly, the fruit bringing
a fair price under his good management. The
outlook for the future grew brighter with the
beginning of each week; for on Monday he made
his returns and sent me the proceeds of the fruit
shipped previously. I was able to pay all out-
standing accounts for what had been bought to
stock the place, and* I also induced Mr. Jones
to receive the interest in advance on the mortgage
he held. Then we began to hoard for winter.
The Bagleys did as well as we could expect, I
suppose. The children did need the gad" occa-
sionally, and the father indulged in a few idle,
surly, drinking days; but, convinced that the man

was honestly trying, I found that a little tact and
kindness always brought him around to renewed
endeavor. To expect immediate reform and un-
varied well-doing was asking too much of such
human nature as theirs.
As July drew to a close, my wife and I felt that
we were succeeding better than we had had reason
to expect. In the height of the season we had to
employ more children in gathering the raspberries,
and I saw that I could increase the yield in coming
years, as I learned the secrets of cultivation. I
also decided to increase the area in this fruit by a
fall-planting of some varieties that ripened earlier
and later, thus extending the season and giving
me a chance to ship to market for .weeks instead
of days. My strawberry plants were sending out
a fine lot of new runners, and our hopes for the
future were turning largely toward the cultivation
of this delicious fruit.
Old Ferguson had plodded faithfully over the
meadow with his scythe, and the barn was now so
well filled that I felt our bay horse and brindle
cow were provided for during the months when
fields are bare or snowy.
Late one afternoon, he was helping me gather
up almost the last load down by the creek, when
the heavy roll of thunder warned us to hasten.
As we came up. to the high ground near the house,
we were both impressed by the ominous blackness
of a cloud rising in the west. I felt that the only
thing to do was to act like the captain of a vessel
before a storm, and make everything "snug and
tight." The load of hay was run in upon the barn
floor, and the old horse led with the harness on him
to the stall below. Bagley and the children, with
old Ferguson, were started off so as to be at home
before the shower, doors and windowswere fastened,
and all was made as secure as possible.
Then we gathered in our sitting-room, where
Mousie and my wife had prepared supper; but we
all were too oppressed with awe of the coming tem-
pest to sit down quietly, as usual. There was a
death-like stillness in the sultry air, broken only at
intervals by the heavy rumble of thunder. The
strange, dim twilight soon passed into the murki-
est gloom, and we had to light the lamp far earlier
than customary. I never saw the children so af-
fected before. Winnie and Bobsey even began to
cry with fear, while Mousie was pale and trem-
bling. Of course, we laughed at, and tried to
cheer them; but even my wife was nervously ap-
prehensive, and I admit that I felt a disquietude
hard to combat.
Slowly and remorselessly the cloud approached,
until it began to pass over us. The thunder and
lightning were simply terrific. Supper remained
untasted on the table, and I said:



Patience and courage A few moments more
and the worst will be over "
But my words were scarcely heard, so violent was
the gust that burst upon us. For a few moments
it seemed as if everything would go down before
it, but the old house only shook and rocked a little.

"Hurrah !" I cried. The bulk of the gust
has gone by, and now we are all right! "
At that instant a blinding gleam and instantane-
ous crash left us stunned and bewildered. But as
I recovered my senses, I saw flames bursting from
the roof of our barn.

(To be continued.)




"HEY willow-waly I wish I were a daisy,
A merry, laughing daisy," a little maiden sighed.
" Then hey willow-waly when life is bright or hazy,
Keep a cheerful spirit," the daisy gay replied.

" Hey willow-waly a buttercup I 'd like to be,
A bright, golden buttercup," the little maiden sighed.
" Then hey willow-waly! little maiden, draw to thee
Life's golden sunshine," the buttercup replied.

" Hey willow-waly that I could be a clover,
A sweet, crimson clover," the little maiden sighed.
" Then hey willow-waly ere .thy youth is over,
Treasure all its honey," the clover sweet replied.

" Hey willow-waly if only I could be a rose,
A dainty, pretty, wild rose," the little maiden sighed.
" Then hey willow-waly! every little maid knows
How to be a rosebud," the dainty rose replied.




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



IN studying the lives of the various musicians
included in this series, the musical work of each
succeeding one seems richer and rarer than the
last, so that each time we are tempted to exclaim
anew, Here is the noblest musician of them all."
But if we were to explore the whole realm of music,
we should always return to Beethoven as the
greatest of the masters, the one supreme genius
who has created the sublimest strains which have
ever stirred the soul.
The early life of this great man, like that of so
many geniuses, was far from happy. So obscure
was his family that it was with some difficulty that
the date of his birth could be ascertained. On
December 16, 1770, Ludwig van Beethoven was
born in the little village of Bonn, Germany. The

family were very poor, and the father, a cruel,
dissipated man, was only anxious to make money
out of his son's extraordinary power. When Lud-
wig was a very little boy, he always lingered by
the piano when his father played, and his greatest
happiness was to be taken on his father's lap and
to be allowed to pick out a melody on the piano.
When a little older and obliged to practice, he
often worked, as so many of us have toiled, with
tears in his eyes, and frequently had to be driven
to the piano. The child's dislike to the instru-
ment was probably owing to his father's unreason-
able treatment, for in after-life no trouble nor care
was too great for the master to spend over his
beloved art.
Beethoven was sent for a time to a school, where
he received instruction in Latin and some of the
more common branches, but before long he gave




his whole attention to music. When at school he
was very shy, making few friends, and always leav-
ing them at a chance to hear a strain of music.
Soon his gifts attracted the attention of Van den
Eeden, organist to the court, who, out of love
for his art, offered to teach the child. He laid the
foundation of Beethoven's musical education by
drilling him in the works of Sebastian Bach.
The young pupil made marvelous progress on
the organ and piano; in his eleventh year he
could play Bach's "Well-tempered Clavier" with
a power and ease beyond many of the first pian-
ists. He had begun to compose when only nine,
and in his fifteenth year he was appointed organ-
ist to the electoral chapel.
In 1787 Beethoven met Mozart at Vienna.
After hearing the boy improvise, Mozart said:
" Pay attention to him; he will make a noise in
the world some day." At this time it needed no
urging to induce Beethoven to play, but in after-
life it was almost impossible in society to drive
him to the piano.
In 1792 Beethoven again went to Vienna, then
the center of all the musical culture in the German-
speaking world; Mozart's influence still lived with
the people; Haydn himself gave Beethoven instruc-
tion; and Mozart, Gliick, Haydn and Bach were
the idols of the nation. It was music, music, every-
where; it was part of the a-b-c of every one's edu-
cation, and to hear the best music was almost as
necessary to the cultivated people of that day as
was a knowledge of the alphabet.
To Vienna, then, Beethoven traveled, there to
perfect himself, and to win bread and fame. He
left very warm friends in Bonn, who predicted
the greatest success for their favorite. They even
expected him to outshine Haydn and Mozart,
so strongly had he inspired them with belief in his
power. On arriving at Vienna, he placed himself
under the tuition of Haydn, who set him to study-
ing Bach's style, whom he calls the "patriarch of
Beethoven was, of course, very poor when he be-
gan his career in Vienna; but, though he lived in a
wretched little garret, he soon attracted the atten-
tion of the most powerful people in the city. He had
the most wonderful faculty for drawing people to
him. It was something more than his music; for,
as has been said, he was very reluctant to play for
people; it was not owing to any charm of manner,
as he was eccentric, and his behavior was often
brusque even to rudeness. Yet he fascinated almost
every one he met. Every one wished to be his
friend and to remain his friend, in spite of any
differences which might arise between them. His
face, though full of strength and spirit, could not
be called pleasing; he paid little attention to his

dress and outward appearance; he was extremely
awkward in all his movements; yet he had the
aristocracy of. Vienna at his feet. Until now, an
artist had been held by the nobility as little better
than a servant, but Beethoven treated the peer
and the peasant with equal ceremony, and by his
course made it impossible for any artist to ever
suffer such insolence from those above him in rank
as musicians before his time had been compelled
to bear.
In 1816 Beethoven began to keep house, and a
sad kind of home he had. He was like a child
in the hands of servants and landlords, and rarely
found himself at peace with either. He constantly
changed his lodgings, and seldom had time to get
things settled in a house before it was necessary to
move again. It was seldom that a servant staid more
than a few weeks, and the house frequently took
care of itself. His room was generally a model of
confusion. Letters strewed the floor, and the re-
mains of his last meal, sketches of his music, books
and pictures covered the chairs and tables. Some-
times it would be weeks before he could discover
a manuscript which he sorely needed. He broke
nearly everything he touched, and sometimes upset
the ink in the piano. He loved to bathe, and
frequently would stand pouring water over his
hands, shouting his music; if any musical idea
occurred, he would rush to the table and note
it down, splashing the water over everything
in the room. Every day, whatever the weather,
Beethoven took a long walk; he had his favor-
ite haunts around the city, and nearly all his
musical ideas came to him in the woods or meadows,
amid the trees, the rocks and the flowers. He was
never without a little book in which he wrote down
any thought which seized him; and then at home
the thought would grow into a song or a symphony.
He thought no labor too great to spend on his
art; from day-break till dinner at two o'clock, he
worked steadily, always giving every care to the
smallest detail; some one has said his symphonies
arose like a plant or like a tree, and we think so
ourselves when we find it was a common thing for
him to rewrite a bar a dozen times, and in some in-
stances altering itas many as eighteen times. After
he had once finished a work, however, he could not
be induced to change it. This is what might be
called hard work, and when we remember that he
supported himself by playing and giving lessons,
we can see that his was a busy life. In his improvisa-
tions, he touched the deepest emotions of the heart.
Czerny tells us that he drew tears from people,
often forcing them to sob aloud. This power,
he says, was due even more to his marvelous ex-
pression than to his ideas. What a picture he
must have been when at dusk -his favorite hour


for playing-he flooded his little room with
music; his face aglow with love of the strains
which possessed him, his small body growing lar-
ger and larger till it seemed to match the size of
the giant spirit within! He passionately loved
everything connected with his art; the very instru-
ment on which he played was sacred. In dedica-
ting his many works, we never find him inscribing
them with empty compliments to King or Prince,
in order to receive position or money; he had con-
secrated himself to his art, and all his compositions
were dedicated to loving friends or to lovers of
music. With Beethoven, it was all for love.
Perhaps much of the effect he produced was due
to his smooth, or legato, style of playing. He dis-
liked the disconnected, or staccato, playing, which
he called finger dancing," and said that only by
legato-playing could the piano be made to sing.
He always obliged his pupils to so place their
hands on the key-board, that the fingers were raised
as little as possible. His own fingers were broad at
the ends, from long practicing. He was quiet and
rapt when at the piano, rarely making a motion;
but we are told that when conducting an orchestra,
his movements were violent. At the diminuendo he
would gradually crouch lower and lower, till he
dropped entirely out of sight, rising slowly during
the crescendo, when he would almost jump into the
air. With his pupils he had the sweetest patience,
repeating a correction over and over again; he
would always forgive a wrong note, but woe to the
unlucky pupil who failed to give the right expres-
sion to a phrase or bar, for this the master thought
indicated a lack of soul, and this he would not for-
give. He sometimes said that music would not make
the true musician weep; it should strike fire from
his eyes rather than tears; and surely it burned
with unquenchable flame in his own fiery soul.
Early in his career he felt a terrible shadow
creeping over his life, and at last he was forced
to recognize that no help could avail to lighten
it. A cruel and pathetic fate was now his, for
he slowly found it more and more difficult to
hear, until, in the year 18oo, he became quite
deaf. For a long time he struggled against his
doom, keeping out of society, and growing more
despondent. His anguish was so keen that he
almost despaired; he' would allow people to think
he was rude or absent-minded, rather than ask
them to repeat a remark. All through his later
life he carried an ear-trumpet and a book and
pencil. This affliction made it much less easy
for people to talk with him, and drove him more
and more to seek entire solitude. This, though
the great, was by no means the only trouble
that came upon him. He adopted a nephew

as his son, and made great sacrifices for his
support and education; but the young man
grew up ungrateful and dissipated, and was a
source of sorrow to his benefactor as long as Bee-
thoven lived. The deceptions practiced on him
by this boy made him suspicious of others; and so
we find him in constant difficulties with his friends.
Knowing how true and loyal the master was at
heart, they often endured much, rather than break
with him; but sometimes the most loving could
endure his treatment no longer, and withdrew
their friendship. When he realized that he was
in the wrong, Beethoven would overwhelm himself
with reproaches, and make the most generous
atonement for the mistakes he had made. He also
suffered during his later years from a lack of appre-
ciation, some of his works being played to empty
houses; indeed, nothing seemed to go smoothly
with him.
On the second of December, 1826, he rode with
his nephew in an open carriage during a severe
storm, and took a heavy cold. The youth was
sent for a doctor, but, owing to the neglect of the
wretched boy, the doctor did not arrive until some
days after lung fever had set in, and it was too late
to cure the patient. He died in much pain, while
a furious storm was raging throughout the city.
Schubert was one of the pall-bearers at his funeral.
Few have been truer to an ideal than Beethoven.
"Nothing is good," he says, "but to have a
beautiful, good soul which one recognizes in all
things, and before which one need not hide one-
self. One must be something if one would appear
something." His modesty equaled his genius.
In dedicating his beautiful "Adelaide," to the author
of the poem, he begs to be forgiven for attempt-
ing to set such beautiful words to music, only
wishing that he had the power to give a worthy
frame to such poetry. He writes, shortly before his
death: I feel as if I had written scarcely more
than a few notes; and again he says: I hope
still to bring a few great works into the world."
This was worthy of the author of the nine eternal
symphonies; eternal, for as long as music lives, so
long the creations of Beethoven live. No school
nor fashion can disturb their sway. He spoke to
the heart; he felt from the heart; his sufferings
sound in his music; it was necessary that he
should suffer, or he could not have touched, as he
has touched, every thought and emotion that can
be expressed in music. Shut off from, people,
alone with his own suffering, sensitive spirit, he
wrote the divine strains which have in them more
of heaven than earth. Beethoven is to music what
Michel Angelo is to sculpture, or what Shake-
speare is to literature.





WITHIN a forest dark and wide,
Some distance from the ocean side,
A band of Brownies played around
On mossy stone or grassy mound,
Or, climbing through the branching tree,
Performed their antics wild and free.
When one, arising in his place
With sparkling eyes and beaming face,
Soon won attention from the rest,
And thus the listening throng addressed:

The saplings which we used to bend
Now like a schooner's masts ascend.
Yet here we live, content to ride
A springing bough with childish pride,
Content to bathe in brook or bog
Along with lizard, leech, and frog;
We're far behind the age you'll find
If once you note the human kind.
The modern youths no longer lave
Their limbs beneath the muddy wave
Of meadow pool or village pond.

.But seek the ocean far beyond;
Si'1, : Like people wild they spend the day
S" ..e :' I' :- In rolling surf and dashing spray!
." If pleasure in the sea is found
SNot offered by the streams around,
L' ''. : The Brownie band at once should hast
lt' These unfamiliar joys to taste;
'1"' '. For we, who scale the steepest hill
: ,, And tread the softest marsh at will,

S' That lies between us and the shore;
S,-''' '. AI i liouh the moon be hid from sig
;,), 4,..L. ) . _

" ", ''. if' -,W '- -


'' -', -
,i;.,!,.ir "--:,, .= ,"- ----- .. '-,,; " ,- I I t" ,.' -

V''" '" -;--': - "" --d :4 '" :

And not a star adorn the night,
No torch nor lantern's ray we '11 need

" For years and years, through heat and cold,
Our home has been this forest old;





To show our path o'er dewy mead,
The ponds and pitfalls in the swale,
The open ditch, the slivered rail,
The poison vine and thistle high
Are never hidden from our eye."

Next evening, as their plan they 'd laid,
The Brownies gathered in the shade,
All clustered like a swarm of bees
They darted from the sheltering trees;
And straight across the country wide
Began their journey to the tide.
And when they neared the beach at last,-
The stout, the lean, the slow, the fast,-
'T was hard to say, of all the lot,
Who foremost reached the famous spot.

" And now," said one with active mind,
" What proper garments can we find?
In bathing costume, as you know,
The people in the ocean go."
Another spoke, "For such demands,

The building large that yonder stands,
As one can see on passing by,
Is full of garments clean and dry.
There every fashion, loose or tight,
We may secure with labor light."

Though Brownies never carry keys,
They find an entrance where they please;
And never do they chuckle more
Than when some miser bars his door;



For well they know that, spite of locks,
Of rings and staples, bolts and blocks,
Were they inclined to play such prank
He'd find at morn an empty bank.
So now the crafty Brownie crew
Soon brought the bathing-suits to view;
Some, working on the inner side,
The waiting group without supplied.-
'T was busy work, as may be guessed,
Before the band was fully dressed;
Some still had cloth enough to lend,
Though shortened up at either end;
Some ran about to find a pin,
While others rolled, and puckered in,
And made the best of what they found,
However strange it hung around.

A few began from piers to leap
And plunge at once in water deep,
But more to shiver, shrink, and shout
As, step by step, they ventured out;

Then, when a boat was manned with care
To watch for daring swimmers there,-
Lest some should venture, over-bold,
And fall a prey to cramp and cold,-

While others were content to stay
In shallow surf, to duck and play
Along the lines that people laid
To give the weak and timid aid.


It was a sight one should behold,
When o'er the crowd the breakers
One took a header through the wave,
One floated like a chip or stave,
While others there, at every plunge,
Were taking water like a sponge.

And well may Brownies bear in mind
The hills and vales they leave behind,
When far from native haunts they run,
As oft they do, in quest of fun.

But, ere they turned to leave the strand,
They made a vow with lifted hand

But while the surf they tumbled through,
They reckoned moments as they flew,
And kept in mind their homeward race
Before the sun would show his face.
For sad and painful is the fate
Of those who roam abroad too late;

That every year, when ripened grain
Invited forth the sighing swain,
And Autumn's sun with burning glow
Had warmed the ocean spread below,
They 'd journey far from grove and glen
To sport in rolling surf again.







THOUGH much had been gained by the dis-
covery of Dandy in responsible hands, Kit could
not easily forego the satisfaction of taking him
home, and saving his uncle much future trouble
and loss in recovering his property.
Having abandoned the idea of "stealing" him,
Kit began to meditate a different and hardly less
audacious plan of accomplishing his purpose with-
out letting Dandy go out of his sight. This he
proceeded to put into practice on Eli's return from
the village.
Eli was in excellent spirits,-in much better
humor, Kit thought, than he would have main-
tained had he come home to find that his visitor
had galloped away on 'his new horse. He had
secured evidence corroborating Kit's story of
the presence of the fruit-thieves in the oyster-
saloon the evening before; all had been iden-
tified, and warrants were out for those not already
in custody.
Mr. Badger, therefore, appeared well disposed
toward one who had done him so important a
service, and had been soundly cudgeled by him in
the performance of it. So Kit found it easy to
say :
Don't you want to harness up your other horse
this afternoon and take me home? "
Must ye be goin' ?" said Eli.
"I think so. But I 'm not able to walk very
far. I '11 willingly pay you for your trouble."
Since 't was my business that brought ye here,
and my stick that welcomed ye," said Eli, with a
grin, I s'pose I can afford to carry ye home for
nothing I reckon I ought to, under the succum-
Lydia was disappointed to learn that their guest
was to leave them so soon.
"Though, if he mutht go," she said, approv-
ingly, to her papa, of courthe you ought to
harness up and take him home."
Kit trembled lest Mrs. Badger should also ap-
prove of.the plan, and so turn her husband against
it. But having lately received some harsh rebuffs
from the surly side of his nature, she fortunately
kept quiet.
The boy still had doubts about the right horse
Being chosen for the expedition; and after dinner
he went out to watch the harnessing, with the
greatest solicitude. Lydia came tripping after,

and whispered something in her father's ear.
The paternal part of him uttered a gentle growl
of assent, and she ran back into the house.
Kit was too deeply absorbed in the horse ques-
tion to give much heed to her at the time, notwith-
standing the significant nod and sweet smile with
which she favored him, glancing over her plump
shoulder as she retired. He hardly dared utter a
word until assured by Eli's movements that Dandy
was to be driven that afternoon. Nor did he vol-
unteer any remarks even then, being fearful of
betraying his unbounded satisfaction.
He noticed that Mr. Badger put a second seat
into the open buggy, as if it were necessary for
a man of his bulk to have the forward seat en-
tirely to himself. Kit's eyes took the measure of
the broad back, and was carrying it along for com-
parison with the capacity of the seat, when the
meaning of Lydia's secret errand and parting smile
suddenly dawned upon him.
His conjecture was confirmed when he saw her
presently come out of the house, in hat and man-
tilla, with a parasol under her arm, and drawing
on a torn kid glove.
"I 'm going with you; did you know it? she
said, with a happy glance at Christopher. "I
thuppothe you wont object."
Why should I? replied Kit.
He was not, however, supremely delighted with
the arrangement; not for any reason personally
uncomplimentary to the fair Lydia, but because
he deemed it just possible that, if Eli drove Dandy
Jim to his uncle's premises, his friend might not have
the horse to drive home again. In that case, Miss
Badger's presence in the wagon, at the farther
end of the journey, might add to Mr. Badger's
embarrassment, and prove a fruitful source of un-
He would have been glad to say good-bye to
Mrs. Badger, who had been kind to him, and for
whom, in her down-trodden state, he felt much
sympathy. But as he was starting toward the
house for that purpose, Eli called him back.
Sayin' good-bye to her is n't of any conse-
quence," he grumbled, in something like his mari-
tal tone of voice. "We must be off. It'sa long
drive to your place," he added, arranging the
reins, as Kit helped Lydia into the buggy.
"Jump in," said Eli, seeing Kit hesitate.
"Better take the hind seat with Liddy; there '11
be more room."




Ith n't it jutht thplendid "she laughed, open-
ing her parasol as Kit took his seat beside her.
"It suits me!" he replied, with a rather stern
smile, thinking of the glory of returning to his
uncle's house behind the stolen horse, after all his
blunders and tribulations.
Then, as the vineyard was passed, where he had
met with his latest mishaps, and the homeward
road was struck at a brisk trot, he could hardly
keep from laughing at the grouty and unobliging
Eli himself being induced to go with him and
drive Dandy home to his lawful owner.
Lydia chatted and lisped vivaciously, as they
rode along the country highways in the mild Sep-
tember weather. Eli bragged of his new horse,
and named extravagant prices for him, increas-
ing his figures as Dandy quickened his paces; the
horse appearing to be aware of Kit's presence and
of the fact that he was headed for home.
"If a horse could speak," thought Kit, "he
might have spoilt my fun by neighing out when
he first saw me this morning: Hello Is that
you, Kit? Where did you come from ?' "
As it was, how little did Eli suspect the familiar
acquaintance of boy and horse, or dream of the
disagreeable surprise in store for him !
Kit had not, from the first, been quite at ease in
his mind regarding the deception he was practic-
ing. And we have seen how .Miss Badger's pro-
posal to add her plumpness to the load had cast an
equivalent weight upon his conscience. But once
on his way home, he silenced his scruples and in-
dulged in jubilant thoughts of his well-earned
I am not going home without Dandy Jim, after
all Once there, I 'Il leave Eli Badger and Uncle
Gray to settle the matter of possession. Wont it
be fun to stand by and see two such men glare at
each other and contradict and fling adjectives over
Dandy's back! Uncle 's a match for Eli at that
business; and he 'll have the inside track,- his
own horse on his own ground, and plenty of wit-
nesses to prove property.''
Kit chuckled at his own shrewdness, which he
flattered himself was sufficient to atone for many
blunders. Instead of. the bungling operation of
carrying evidence to Southmere and securing
Dandy by legal process, here was the. horse it-
self trotting comfortably back to East Adam and
the premises where he belonged, from which riot
even Eli could venture to take him by violence
after the owner's claim was duly shown.
Who could say that it was not a justifiable strat-
agem ? Yet the more certain it seemed of success,
the more seriously Kit began to consider the other
side of the question. If it would have been wrong
to ride Dandy off surreptitiously in the morning,

as he had been tempted to do, could the device he
was now employing be altogether right?
"Eli will be mad enough to finish what the
stick left of me last night," he thought. "And
Lydia! What a traitor I shall appear in her
eyes; taking advantage of their kindness in this
way! "
For he felt that they had been really kind; nor
could he pretend that all they were doing for him
was justly his due for the blows of the hickory
club the night before; remembering that it was
quite as much to serve his own purpose as to be-
friend Eli, that he blundered into the vineyard to
his hurt.
"I shall .feel better," he reasoned,." if he will
take pay for carrying me now. That would make
it seem more like a fair transaction. He can't say
then that he walked into my trap simply by way
of doing 'me a favor. If I hire him, there 's no
favor about it; it 's just a matter of business."
SHe waited for a good chance to introduce the
subject; then, putting his hand into his pocket,
he remarked:
"You. have n't yet told me, Mr. Badger, what
I am to pay you for this ride."
- "What you 're to pay?" said Eli.. ".Yes, I 've
told ye. Noth'n'. That's-what I said, wa' n't it?"
Thertainly it wath," declared Lydia. "Put up
your money! Do, pleathe!"
"But I can't let you-- Kit began to remon-
"You 'll have to let me," said Eli. "What I
say I stick to. What I 'm doin' for you now, I 'm
doin' for no money; I 'm doin' it coz you did
me a good turn, and coz I 've taken a notion to
Kit still insisted, but he found.Eli Badger as ob-
stinate in the performance of a friendly action as
he had the reputation of being in the more selfish
concerns of life. The boy was at:length obliged to
put up his money, which, however, burned in his
pocket, and proved an added burden to his soul.
Was it not, after all, a mean sort of trick he had
resorted to, and would not an open, honest course
have been better? What a return for Eli's good-
nature in carrying him home,: to take away his
horse.when they should arrive there !
As if the loss of the money he has paid for him
wouldn't be enough," thought Christopher, "with-
out so much extra trouble! ".
He was not a boy to regard a matter of this sort
very long from an exclusively selfish point of view.
He had the spirit to perceive that Eli, too, had a
claim, and that there was a medium ground of honor
and justice. He was fearful of committing another .
blunder in the business, which had been too fruit-
ful of blunders 'already; and yet it seeded to him,




before they had made half the journey, that he
ought to tell Eli what was before him.


KIT grew strangely absent-minded, in the midst
of Lydia's pleasant chatter, and at last she became
silent. Then Eli remarked:

to know! Did n't see me there the first day, did
ye ?"
Kit could not remember that he had enjoyed
that pleasure.
Wal, I was off the last half of the afternoon,"
Eli resumed, raisin' money to pay for this nag.
I came near mission' my chance o' buyin' him, after
all. It's lucky I did n't! How d' ye like the way
he gets over the road ? G'lang! cracking his whip.

* T 4~~


It seems to me you took a deal of pains to go
to the cattle-show, considering' that there 's no rail-
road direct from your place."
Yes, I did; pains enough !" assented Christo-
pherr I don't think I should care to go again,
in just the same way."
"It's a long jaunt," said Eli, "for a boy like
you. Did n't walk all the way, did ye ?"
"I walked, when I was n't lucky enough to get
rides," replied Kit.
.' I should think 't would have taken ye about all
dayito get over there and back to my place, let
alone seeing' the show," Mr. Badger remarked.
. "I did n't- see much of it the second day,"
faltered Kit.
What! do ye mean to say ye were there both
days?" said Eli, turning half around, and showing
his square-built visage, in some surprise. I want
VOL. XII.-49.

"There 's nothing' very bad about him, is there ?"
I have n't seen a horse lately that I 'd rather
be riding after," replied Christopher.
Nor I !" chuckled Eli. I didn't get back
to the show till 't was just breaking' up, after the
racin' was over; the feller that I 'd bargained with
had got tired o' waiting and had harnessed the hoss
into a wagon in place o' somebody's hoss that had
been stolen. Ye might 'a' heard about that if you 'd
staid late enough. Some Duckford boys had lost
their animal, and they made a great pow-wow
about it."
I must have left the ground just before the
'pow-wow,' as you call it," suggested Kit.
"They wanted me to lend 'em this hoss, to
follow up their own; but I wanted to be getting'
home, to look after my grapes," said Eli. "I had
him out of their harness in about forty winks, and




left 'em to shift for themselves. 'T was none o'
my business to hunt for their lost hoss. Some
said a little fellow in a white cap had just gone off
with him."
Kit, in his base-ball cap, which had once been
white, sat silent, thinking Eli might at any moment
look around again and connect him with the ad-
venture he was relating. Lydia was smiling upon
him, as unsuspicious of his secret as if she had
been accustomed to seeing such caps every day.
Where did ye stop overnight ? Eli inquired.
"I went home to my uncle's to spend the
night," Kit replied.
Home to East Adam ? "exclaimed Mr. Badger.
"You don't say I can't see why you did that if
you wanted to be at the cattle-show the second day."
I had a chance to ride," Kit explained, think-
ing what a ride it was, on the wrong horse! "And
I thought my uncle's folks-for some reasons-
would be anxious to see me."
He could hardly resist the impulse he felt to
relate then and there the whole story of the horse
which the unconscious Eli was driving with such un-
alloyed satisfaction. But while he was considering
how to begin, Lydia changed the subject by in-
quiring, "What mak'th you live with your uncle'th
folkth? Ith it a good home? "
"As good as I deserve, I suppose," said Kit,
with rueful recollections of his recent troubles.
" I have to work for my.living, and I may as well do
it there as anywhere. Though I 'm not sure I
shall stay much longer."
Why tho ?" Lydia inquired.
Not knowing just what his uncle's final inten-
tions would be regarding him, Kit answered cau-
tiously that he had some intention of looking for a
place that might suit him better.
How would our plathe thuit you ? she asked.
I 've heard Pa thay many a time that he would
like to engage a good thmart boy-young per-
thon," she corrected herself, with an admiring
look at Christopher.
The thought of working for a man like Eli, of
sitting daily at table with the Badger family and
witnessing poor Mrs. Badger's martyrdom, he did
not find enticing. But he answered diplomatically :
I don't believe I am clever enough for him ;
I 'm a very stupid fellow "
"You- thtupid laughed the incredulous
Lydia. I gueth not! Ith he, Pa?"
"I calculate he 's smart enough for me," said
Eli. I 've been thinking' about it myself. I want
jus' such a boy; and if you '11 come and try it with
me for a while, and we both like it, I '11 pay you
good wages."
Oh, wont that be thplendid! cried the en-
thusiastic Lydia.

Thinking it might be useful to hold this propo-
sal in reserve, Kit answered discreetly:
You 're very kind, considering how little you
know of me. But, of course, I can't say what I
can do, until I have talked with my mother and
my uncle."
Lydia said: I 'm thertain we know you well
enough while Eli meditated some moments be-
fore speaking what was in his mind. Then he said:
I 'd like to have you come, first-rate. But how
is it ? Seems to me there can't be much work to
do at your home, or else your uncle's an indulgent
sort of man, to let you go to the cattle-show twice
within two days."
The moment for freeing his mind and setting
himself right with those whom he had so deceived,-
that fatal moment seemed to Christopher to have
arrived; and he answered unhesitatingly:
"I had business, in Peaceville, or I should n't
have gone."
"Business?" queried Eli; "to take ye there
two days hand-runnin' ? "
"Yes," said Kit, "since I did n't quite succeed
in it the first day."
"Your folks did n't have anything on exhibi-
tion, did they?" asked Eli; "you 're in another
We didn't exhibit anything; and yet "-Kit's
voice trembled a little we had a horse there."
How was that? said Eli.
I have n't told you," replied Kit, after a long
breath, "that we- that my uncle-had a horse
stolen, and I was in search of it."
Eli started. A hoss stolen ?" he asked, giv-
ing a quick backward glance at the boy behind
"I traced it to Peaceville," Kit continued, in
a voice which his utmost resolution failed to keep
steady. I found it under one of the cattle-sheds
at the fair. But when I went to take it, I- I
took another horse by mistake."
Eli now turned completely about, and gave Kit
and his base-ball cap an astonished look.
"You! he exclaimed. It can't be that you
're the little fellow in the white cap I heard 'em
tellin' about "
I suppose I am," said Kit, losing color, but
speaking firmly. "They thought I meant to
steal the horse I took. But I did n't; and I took
it back to Mr. Benting, in Duckford, yesterday,
as I can show by a paper in Mr. Benting's own
That 's a strange story growled Eli Badger.
It 'th a perfect romanthe exclaimed Lydia,
who did not yet see the full significance of it, as it
dawned upon the dull paternal mind.
"What became of the boss you were after?"



i885.] HIS ONE FAULT. 771

Eli demanded, in the tone he was accustomed to
use in addressing the miserable Mrs. Badger at
I hope you found it! said the sympathizing
Miss Lydia.
Hold your tongue you don't know what you
're talking about! cried her father, forgetting, for
once, to change the stop of his vocal organ, and
turn on the sweet sounds she usually called forth.
Then, facing squarely about and glowering on
Christopher, he said: "Tell me'bout that hoss! "
"I got on his track again yesterday," Kit an-
swered, not a little scared, but resolute still.
" That, to be frank, Mr. Badger, was the business
that took me so far out of the direct way home.
The scamp had sold the horse to a man in your
town, and I "
Eli suddenly pulled rein.
See here he exclaimed. No nonsense
with me! What sort of a hoss was he?"
Kit felt that the crisis had come. He answered
with a frightened smile:
"Very much such a horse as you are driving,
Mr. Badger."
Eli stopped Dandy short and poised his whip.
Is this the hoss? he demanded.
The very horse replied Christopher.
Goodneth grathiouth me! almost shrieked
the bewildered Lydia. "What a thingular coin-
thidenthe "
Singular snarled Eli. Why did n't ye tell
me this before?" he exclaimed, looking savagely
at Christopher, as if he would like to follow up with
his whip (as poor Kit had anticipated) the little job
his hickory stick had left incomplete the evening
I ought to have done it," the boy began in
some trepidation to explain. But you gave me
such a clubbing last night,- and told me this
morning that you meant to keep the horse, in spite
of anybody,- I did n't believe I knew I could

n't get it; and I thought the best way would be to
get you to hire you for I wanted to pay you,
you know-to drive it over to my uncle's."
Offered to pay me thundered Eli. "And
did n't I refuse to take yer money ? "
You did," said Kit. And that decided me to
tell you the truth before you went any farther."
I 'm thertain that wath real honorable 1" in-
terposed Lydia.
"Real fiddlededee!" said her father. He
reached back as if to clutch the boy who had so
imposed upon his good-nature, muttering: "I 've
a notion to pitch you heels over head out of this
"Let me get out and save you the trouble,"
Kit responded, promptly.
"No, no! pleaded Lydia, clasping his arm;
"thit thtill! If he throwth you out, I'll get out,
too! "
Let him stay, then, if he wants to said Eli,
facing forward again, and seizing whip and reins.
"What are you going to do, Pa?" screamed
I 'm going to drive back home, as fast as ever
this hoss can snake us over the road," said Eli, back-
ing and cramping the buggy toward the wayside
"0 Pa!" she persisted, "can't you listen to
reathon ?"
"Reason! Who has any?" retorted Mr.
I '11 settle this little difficulty cried Kit,
preparing to jump out.
"0 Pa!" still pleaded Lydia, "thtop jutht
a minute, for my thake! wont you? You '11 be
thorry if you don't! You know he ith n't able to
walk! "
And detaining Christopher with the hand which
held her parasol, she reached over with the other
and made a snatch at the reins.
Eli stopped.

(To be continued.)


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I THINK the clothier is largely responsible for
keeping our American boys from choosing the
calling of an artisan. Years ago it was not uncom-
mon to see a lad with a patch on his clothes, but
nowadays, not even poor boys wear patched cloth-
ing. An outfit is so cheap, compared with former
times, and our enterprising clothing merchants keep
their wares so persistently and temptingly before
the public, that a boy demands a change of raiment
quite as often as does his father.
The boy who wishes to be ahouse-builder can not,
while he works, wear fine clothes; he can not carry
a cane and be a little dandy. IHe may not, in the
first years of his work, look as attractive as a dry-
goods clerk or a book-keeper,-that is, from a
clothes-horse point of view,-but I think that in his
old age, if he has been found fitted for his task, and
has worked hard at it, not only his clothes, but his
whole surroundings would appear so prosperous as
to surprise the clerk or book-keeper he may have
envied in his early days. This matter of clothes
seems to be the only objection I can find against a
boy's learning to be a house-builder. And so, at
the outset, if he wishes to enter that occupation, let
him brush this objection aside. Let him make up
his mind not to heed the laughter and sneers of
his foolish young friends, as they comment on his
overalls and his dinner-pail, or twit him with
" learning a trade." Let him, in fact, keep one
thought in view,- his determination to be a house-
builder; and let all his energies be bent toward
its accomplishment.
If you wish to be a house-builder, you must
learn one of two trades -you must be a mason or
a carpenter. Let us suppose you start as a mason.
This should not be later than your seven-
teenth year. You must have a good constitu-
tion, and be able to endure fatigue and exposure.
Great strength is not such a requisite as good gen-
eral health and the ability to bear climatic changes.
The best workmen are those who have begun young.
To be a successful builder, you must work in or
near some large city. You might succeed by
jobbingg," and occasionally have better work than
that in the country; but the best place for a mason
is where the people and the houses are. And you

must, for the term of four years, be apprenticed to
the man with whom you are to learn the trade.
You will be required to sign a document called an
"Apprentice's Indenture." This paper, so impor-
tant to all parties concerned, binds the young
apprentice to faithfully serve his employer for a
specified term of years, to be honest, industrious,
careful, and obedient, and to hold himself subject
to his employer's orders and wishes; it binds the
employer to teach or instruct the apprentice in all
the "mysteries of the craft," to provide board,
lodging, and medical attendance, and to furnish a
written certificate of character and ability at the
close of such apprenticeship.
This paper, or "Indenture," must be signed
by the employer, the apprentice, and the appren-
tice's parent or legal guardian.
In former times apprentices were, I believe, oc-
casionally treated rather roughly, but all that is
changed now. Indeed, the system is not in vogue
in some sections of the country; and where it is en-
forced it is on account of the trades-unions, which
insist that each one who enters the craft shall be
thoroughly instructed. But it will take the same
length of time to learn the trade, whether you are
apprenticed or not.
The young mason starts, trowel in hand,-his
first effort being to "fill in" between the front
and back rows of brick. This, of course, is quite
easy, and in a few weeks he will be able to back
up" or lay brick on the back row. After learning
that, he will be allowed to work on the front row.
The more difficult parts of the mason's trade are
the doing of fancy brick-work on the fronts of
buildings, the "carrying up" of the corners, and
bad angles. It will be some years before a young
man is fully competent in all these branches. Then,
as he grows older (having in mind all the time that
he wishes to be a builder), the apprentice will
make himself competent to lay out work from the
plans of the architect. This requires a practical
knowledge of arithmetic. A friend of mine is a
very prosperous builder. He had only an ordi-
nary school education, and, like many boys, car-
ried away but few of the rules of arithmetic.
When he became a "boss builder, however, he
was obliged continually to make calculations
on the cost of work, on the price of material,

* Copyright by G. J. Manson, 1884.


and the expense attendant on great amounts of
labor. He told me he could work out all the
problems, in his own "common-sense way," as
he called it, on half the amount of paper that his
son would require, and in a much shorter space
of time. His son had graduated at a public school
and was considered particularly well qualified in
mathematics. Now, I do not mean to give my
boy readers the impression that their school arith-
metic should be neglected, but rather to suggest
that they should often put their school-book knowl-
edge of that science to a practical test, so that if
they become builders, or engage in any other
calling where such knowledge is requisite, they
will be able to easily and quickly solve such
problems as may arise.
After the apprentice has served his four years
(having, if possible, learned, in addition to the reg-
ular trade, how to set stone), he should strive to
become a foreman for some large builder. In
that position he will have charge of the men, see
that they do their work according to the direc-
tions laid down, and he must keep their time."
Sometimes, when the gang of men employed
is small, he himself might be obliged to help in
the more difficult work. It would be an advan-
tage to hold such a position for four or five years,
for during that time he would be engaged in large
enterprises and continually learning something,
while he would also be making acquaintances with
architects who might some day, when he comes to
be a contractor, be of great service to him. As an
apprentice he will have been receiving $4.00 a week
during the first year, and $6.00 a week during the
second. The wages during the last two years of
apprenticeship are a matter of agreement between
employer and apprentice-during the third year
the rate would probably be $1.75 a day, and during
the fourth year $2.00 aday. Ajourneyman mason's
wages in the vicinity of New York City are $4.00 a
And now he is ready to be a contracting house-
builder; that is, when bids are asked from build-
ers for the construction of any building, he can
send in his bid, and take his chances with others in
getting the job. The contract is usually awarded
to the lowest bidder.
Here is the method, in detail, of building a
house: A man owns a piece of ground and desires
to erect one or more buildings. He goes to an
architect, who draws up a plan and specifications.
The plan is a diagram, showing the positions and
sizes of the various rooms; the specifications de-
scribe minutely the quality of all the materials to
be used, from the cellar to the top story. Then a
" contract," or legal agreement, is drawn, to be
signed by the contractor; and this being shown to

such contractors as desire to compete for the work,
the one who makes the lowest bid, agreeing that
he will supply the material and do the work ac-
cording to the contract, usually gets the job. Then
the contractor (perhaps our young mason who has
now served his time and is at last a boss builder)
makes sub-contracts with other men; he contracts
with one for excavating the cellar, with another for
blue-stone, with another for brown-stone, with an-
other for iron-work, with others for mantels, heat-
ers, ranges, furnaces, and other things, all of which
come under the mason's contract.
Another contract is given to the carpenter, who
has his branch of the work to attend to. The
original contractors -the mason and the carpenter
-pursue the same course that was taken with
them: they give the sub-contract to the lowest
bidder. Then the work is begun.
And here you will notice the value of the expe-
rience which the young mason will have acquired
during those four or five years he has been acting
as foreman. If, as masons very often take large
contracts, he now has a host of men under him,
he must see that they do their work properly;
that they furnish good materials, and in the proper
quantity. If he has worked as foreman for an
employer, on big jobs, he has been obliged to take

this same oversight. Now that he is his own
"boss," he has confidence in his own judgment,
because it is founded on experience; and experi-
ence, you know, is said to be the best teacher.
There is little more to be said about the mason.
It may interest you to know, however, that by this
time he has cast off his overalls and ceased to
carry a dinner-pail. He dresses and acts like any
ordinary business man. He may have an office on
a business street, or he may simply have a sign on
his house, giving his name, and stating that he is
a house-builder. What he has to do now is to get
contracts. He will not get them by sitting still and
waiting. He must make acquaintances, keep in-
formed concerning new buildings that are to be
erected in his neighborhood, "drop in" occasion-
ally on the architects with whom he has become
acquainted, and "see what is going on," and,
above all, he must keep himself thoroughly in-
formed as to the price of labor and the cost of
the various materials and articles which enter into
his contracts, so that he will always be able, at
almost a moment's notice, to give an estimate for
any work he may be asked to do.

Boys who wish to learn the carpenter's trade are
seldom apprenticed, but they are "bound," which
is about the same thing. They begin at about
the age of seventeen, and work three years with
their employer. The first year they do not learn



much more than how to use the tools; and it is
needless to say that a boy, to succeed as a car-
penter, must have a taste for mechanical pursuits,
and possess considerable bodily strength. As for
work, during the first year the young carpenter
might have to put up fences, set partitions, and do
other rough work. In the second year he will do
finer work, such as putting up trimmings. In the
third year he completes the technical part of the
knowledge required. It is much easier to learn
the trade than formerly, because so many articles
used in building are now manufactured, and can
be bought ready-made. The work is not as heavy
as it used to be, and therefore less strength is
After his three years' service, the carpenter be-
comes a journeyman; that is, he works for "boss"
builders. When he has had three or four years of
such experience, he will probably wish to start for
himself as a "boss" carpenter. Then he will gain
considerable knowledge of the building art, and
will soon be able to take contracts for building. He
will commence at first on small houses and dwell-
ings; then gradually, as his reputation for good
work becomes known, he will obtain large con-
tracts. Having once obtained a good reputation,
his road to fortune is almost certain. There is one
advantage that the carpenter has over the mason:
he can have his shop, and be sure of a steady
income all the time from job-work. On the other
hand, the "boss" masons, though they do not do
any jobbingg," as a rule, get larger contracts.
Sometimes a contract for the whole work is given
to the mason, and he employs all the help needed,
including the carpenter; sometimes the carpenter
gets the contract, and employs the mason. In
large buildings two contracts are generally made,
-one by the mason for his part of the work, and
the other by the carpenter for his part.
The wages of a boy learning the trade are, during
the first year, $4.00 a week; $5.00 a week dur-
ing the second, and $6.00 a week during the third
year. The wages of journeymen carpenters fluc-
tuate. At the present time they are from $3.00 to
$3.50 a day. During the past ten years they have
ranged from $2.50 to $3.50. There is always
plenty of work for skilled workmen. I know of
men who have worked at the trade for fifteen
years, and during that time have never lost a day
except from sickness.
I said that a mason should learn his trade in the
city. In the case of a carpenter, he can learn his
calling in the country, and it will be no disadvan-
tage to him. Let him not, however, stay there
more than three years; he should then come to
"town to learn the finer branches of his craft. If

he wishes to be a house-builder on a large scale, he
must, of course, live in a large town or city.
It might seem possible that in cities the business
of house-building would soon cease to be profitable,
on account of the rapidity with which the vacant
spaces are built upon. But that is not the fact. In
the first place, there is always a great deal of build-
ing in the outlying districts. No American city is
yet so large that it has not a vast amount of terri-
tory still to be covered with buildings. Then, again,
old buildings in the thickly settled parts of the town
are continually being torn down, and new ones put
up in their places. Warehouses that, ten or fifteen
years ago, were considered quite grand, and which
show no signs of decay, are ruthlessly demolished
and replaced with huge structures of marble or
granite, to meet the increasing demands of trade.
So a good house-builder usually finds enough to
to in any large city.
One word of suggestion to the house-builder,
whether he be a mason or a carpenter : let him, in
money matters, be a man of his word. If he is
asked to pay a bill, let him never say that he will
pay it next week when he knows he can not pay it
until the week after. In other words, let him be
slow to make promises, but, when he does make
them, let him keep them to the letter.
The trades in our country, of late years, have
been almost monopolized by foreigners. The
American boy, however, when he does take a
trade, goes straight on to the top of the ladder.
Yet the majority of successful house-builders here
are foreigners, simply because so large a number
of them become masons and carpenters. It seems
as if American boys would rather be fourth-rate
lawyers, or physicians, than earn their living by
working with their hands. Only the other day I
read in a New York newspaper of a young lawyer
in a distant city, whom I knew some years ago
when I resided in that section of the country, who
literally starved to death. He made scarcely any
money, was too proud to tell of his want, lived as
long as he could on crackers and water, and was
found one day in his office, dead from lack of nour-
ishment. He should never have entered the legal
profession, for he had no ability in that direction.
As a farmer or a mechanic he might have lived a
long, useful, and successful life.
No boy, of course, should enter a trade unless he
feels himself fitted for it; but, on the other hand,
he should not, it seems to me, let the false pride
against manual labor, which now prevails to such
a wide extent in our country, prevent him from
endeavoring to do better work with his hands than
in his inmost thoughts he knows that he can do
with his head.


-- CA \varnin5 / _
Z ---V-______G

THE Great Blue Heron stood all alone
By the edge of the solemn sea,
On a broken bowlder of gray trap-stone
He was lost in a reverie.

And when I climbed over the low rough wall
At the top of the sloping beach,
To gather the drift-wood great and small
Left scattered to dry and to bleach,

I saw, as if carved from the broken block
On which he was standing, the bird,
Like a part of the bowlder of blue-gray rock;
For never a feather he stirred.

I paused to watch him. Below my breath,
0 beautiful creature !" I cried,
" Do you know you are standing here close to
your death,
By the brink of the quiet tide ?

"You can not have heard of the being called
Man -
The lord of creation is he;
And he slays earth's creatures wherever he
In the air or the land or the sea.

" He 's not a true friend of your race If he sees
Some beautiful, wonderful thing

That runs in the woodland, or floats in the
On the banner-like breadth of its wing,

" Straight he goes for his gun, its sweet life to
For mere pleasure of killing alone.
He will ruin its beauty and quench all its joy,
Though 't is useless to him as a stone."

Then I cried aloud: "Fly! before over the sand
This lord of creation arrives
With his powder and shot, and his gun in his
For the spoiling of innocent lives!"

Oh, stately and graceful and slender and tall,
The Heron stood silent and still,
As if careless of warning and deaf to my call,
Unconscious of danger or ill.

" Fly fly to some lonelier place, and fly fast!
To the very north pole! Anywhere!"
Then he rose and soared high and swept east-
ward at last,
Trailing long legs and wings in the air.

" Now perhaps you may live andbe happy," I said;
Fly, Heron, as fast as you can!
Put the width of the earth and the breadth of
the sea
Betwixt you and the being called Man!"


(Recollections ofa Page in the United States Senate.)




ANY boy who has been connected with a debat-
ing society, either at school or among his home
associates, knows how necessary to the proper gov-
ernment of such a society are the rules of order
and debate which are known as parliamentary
rules or procedure. That men are but children
of a larger growth is recognized by both bodies of
Congress, as is shown by the numerous guards
which they have established against disorder. The
rules of the Senate, regulating decorum and debate,
provide that--
The Presiding Officer shall name the senator who is to speak, and
in all cases the senator who shall first rise and address the Chair
shall speak first.
To prevent confusion and altercations, it is re-
quired that--
Every senator, when he speaks, shall address the Chair, standing
in his place.
And that--
No senator shall speak to or interrupt another senator in debate
without his consent; and to obtain such consent he shall first address
the Chair.
If any senator, in speaking or otherwise, transgress the rules of
the Senate, the Presiding Officer shall, or any senator may, call him
to order.
And, in the event of a senator being called to
order for transgressing the rules of the Senate, it
is emphatically stated that-
He shall sit down, and shall not proceed without leave of the
Senate, which leave, if granted, shall be upon motion that he be
allowed to proceed in order; which motion shall then be in order
and be determined without debate. t
And, finally :
No senator shall speak more than twice upon any one question in
debate on the same day without leave of the Senate, which shall be
determined without debate.
Such are the provisions of four standing rules of
the Senate, which, for convenience, I have dis-
sected and transposed. The standing regulations
of the House of Representatives on this subject are
embodied in one long rule, which reads as follows:

i. When any member desires to speak or deliver any matter to the
House, he shall rise and respectfully address himself to "Mr.
Speaker," and, on being recognized, may address the House from

any place on thefloor or from the Clerk's desk, and shall confine
himself to the question under debate, avoiding personality.
2. When two or more members rise at once, the Speaker shall
name the member who is first to speak; and no member shall occupy
more than one kour in debate on any question in the House or in
committee, except as further provided in this rule. *
4. If any member, in speaking or otherwise, transgress the rules
of the House, the Speaker shall, or any member nmay, call him to
order; in which case he shall immediately sit down, unless per-
mitted, on motion of another member, to explain, and the House
shall, if appealed to, decide on the case, without debate; if the de-
cision is in favor of the member called to order, he shall be at liberty
to proceed, but not otherwise; and, tf the case require it, he shall
be liable to censure or such punishment as the House may deem
5. If a member is called to order for words spoken in debate, the
member calling him to order shall indicate the words excepted to,
and they shall be taken down in writing at the Clerk's desk and read
aloud to the House. *
6. No member shall speak more than once to the same question
without leave of the House, unless he shall be the mover, proposer,
or introducer of the matter pending, in which case he shall be per-
mitted to speak in reply, but not until every member choosing to
speak shall have spoken.
7. While the Speaker is putting a question or addressing the
House no member shall walk out of or across the hall, nor, when a
member is speaking, pass between hinm and the Chair; and during
the session of the House no member shall wear his hat, or remain
by ite Clerk's desk during the call of the roll or the counting of
ballots, or smoke upon the floor of the House; and the sergeant-at-
arms and doorkeeper are charged with the strict enforcement of this
You can not fail to notice how much more
strict are the rules of the House than those estab-
lished by the Senate. The latter body apparently
is unwilling to assume that it is possible for a senator
to be guilty of wearing his hat or smoking upon
the floor of the Chamber, and it therefore makes
no express provision on that subject; and, as a
matter of fact, they always do retire to the cloak-
rooms when they wish to smoke.
One provision common to both bodies is gener-
ally enforced. It is made the imperative duty of
the presiding officer to call a senator or repre-
sentative to order when guilty of a transgression
of the rules. Of course, many things might occur
which would be contrary to decorous notions, and
yet for which the standing rules fail to provide. In
such cases, each House tacitly recognizes the right
of its presiding officer to apply the general princi-
ples which regulate the proceedings of parliament
and obtain in other deliberative assemblies. These
unwritten rules declare it to be a violation of order
for a member of one branch of Congress to. refer
to any action in the other branch, or to address
a fellow-member by name, and the slightest

t That is, must be voted upon at once, without being spoken for or against, by either side.
Copyright, 1884, by Edmund Alton. All rights reserved.


tendency toward their infringement is, I may
say, instantly checked by the President of the
But while it is also improper, according to par-
liamentary decisions, to walk across the room, "or
to walk up and down, or to take books or papers
from the table, or write there," these injunctions
are not, as a rule, enforced.
The most noticeable difference between the stand-
ing rules of the two Houses is the limitation upon
debate. In the Senate, there is only one restric-
tion-a senator shall not, without leave, speak
on any one question in debate more than twice
on the same day. Having obtained the floor,
however, he might continue speaking as long as
he pleased.
The rule of the House is positive and emphatic
- no member (subject to the exceptions noted)
shall, without leave, speak more than once to the
same question, nor shall he occupy more than one
hour. Some such restriction is absolutely neces-
sary in so large a body; for, if each member were
to speak one whole day on the same subject, the
House would be obliged to sit every day in the
year, in order to pass a single bill !
But there is another feature of still more im-
portance,- a feature not existing in the Senate, but
greatly valued by the majority in the House. I
mean the previous question. Upon a call for thefre-
vious question, all discussion and amendments are
instantaneously ended, and, if ordered by a majority
of the members present, the House is brought at
once to a vote on the main question," which is
pending. It will thus be seen that the previous
question enables a majority at any time to put
the minority to silence by a prompt and final vote
on the main question." This power of the ma-
jority, therefore, may seriously interfere with the
"rights" of the minority, of which I shall speak
in the following chapter.
It is admitted, on every side, that the rules of the
House in regard to the transaction of business often
hinder rather than aid legislation, and the num-
ber of points of order" that may be raised under
these rules is really bewildering. Since this story
was begun, and while in Washington in search of
some statistics, I met a certain official reporter of
debates, who, from his long experience, is very
good authority. We chanced to mention some of
the rules of the House, when he suddenly said to
me: "Let me tell you something. Two-thirds
of the time of the House is consumed in the dis-
cussion of points of order! Note that in your
series." It is noted.
Altogether, there is no particular danger to
the republic because speeches by members of the
House are limited to one hour.



IN the government of all enlightened nations,
there are numerous restrictions upon the power of
superior numbers, who, without these restraints,
might utterly disregard the rights of their weaker
opponents. These checks are not based upon mere
sentiments of chivalry and magnanimity- they
are founded upon the loftier rule of justice. Their
object is to protect "the rights of minorities," and
this protection is, in one important regard, clearly
secured by the Constitution of the United States.
The fifty millions of people who constitute this
nation are people of all classes and conditions, and
with varied and (in many respects) conflicting in-
terests and views; and it is but proper, and in
accordance with our republican system, that these
various classes shall be represented in the admin-
istration of their common government. It is be-
cause there is not perfect agreement of interests
and views upon the part of the people that differ-
ences and dissensions occur among their represen-
tatives in Congress.
There is no absolute protection for the minority
in mere "rules of proceedings," for rules can be
suspended, modified, or amended at any time by
the majority of the body that has established them,
and thus a large majority might ride rough-shod
over the interests of the minority. Although the
standing rules of each House provide for the expres-
sion of all shades of opinion concerning a matter
under discussion, the majority of each House,
when pressed for time, or in other emergencies,
and when deemed expedient in order to insure or
facilitate the legislation which they desire enacted,
destroy even these "standing rules" by enacting
certain temporary orders. In such a predicament,
when a measure objectionable to the minority is
brought forward and is attempted to be put through
by the majority in power, the minority have but one
recourse-to fight it by motions and arguments
intended solely to cause delay and consume time,
and by thus reducing the struggle to a question of
mere physical endurance, to wear out their oppo-
nents and force them to abandon the attempt, or
continue the fight until the hour of twelve o'clock
strikes on the 4th of March and sounds the death-
knell of the Congress and of all the measures which
belonged to it. These dilatory tactics.are known
in the technical language (or rather "slang") of
parliamentary procedure as filibustering."
When the filibusters," or, as they are styled by
their more dignified antagonists, "obstructionists,"
think proper to adopt this line of action, resort is had
to various devices to consume time.





The chief rules that are singled out and utilized
for filibustering purposes, are those respecting ad-
journment. Naturally, the primary object of a
filibustering movement, if it is evident that the
majority intend to push the measure to a final vote,
is to terminate the proceedings by an adjournment
for the day, and then do the same thing over again
should the effort be continued upon re-assembling.
Now, it is manifestly proper that the .. :1
should always have it within their power to termi-
nate their sessions whenever they see fit, as other-
wise they would be at the mercy of the minority.

" to take a recess," to proceed to the considera-
tion of executive business," "to lay on the table,"
etc. The way these motions are used in filibuster-
ing would be somewhat as follows:
Suppose it is five o'clock on Monday afternoon, and
that filibustering is going on in the Senate. A sena-
tor belonging to the minority moves to adjourn.
The majority, of course, are bent on reaching a final
vote on the pending question, and are determined
to sit it out." By force of greater numbers, they
promptly defeat the motion. Then the same or
another obstructionist moves to take a recess until

I 6J
I '~-, .cA. i,


Hence it is that the motion to adjourn takes pre-
cedence over all other motions, and is always in
order; except, of course, when a vote is being
taken or when a speaker has the floor and refuses
to be interrupted, in which two cases no motion
can be entertained. But if a motion is made to
adjourn and is defeated, "some other business
must intervene before it can be renewed. Next
to a motion "to adjourn" in order of precedence,
during the pendency of a question, come motions

seven o'clock. This is also defeated. Then the
minority move again to adjourn. Also defeated.
Then a motion is made to do something else,-
perhaps to go into executive session (although
there may not be any executive business on hand !)
or to adjourn to Wednesday, or take a recess until
eight o'clock that evening.* Any or all of these
motions are made and defeated. The motion to
adjourn is renewed with the same result, then
comes the motion for recess (lost), then to adjourn,

They had an unusual amount of filibustering in the House of Representatives last session, wasting day after day of valuable time.
Both parties were very stubborn, but the minority finally prolonged the matter so near to the 4th of March that the majority had to "give
in." One evening, among a goodly number of other filibustering motions, it was moved to take a recess until a certain hour that night-
say twelve o'clock. The call of the House for a quorum, or some other matter that intervened, consumed nearly the whole of the night
without a vote being taken on the motion, and the curious spectacle was presented of the members of the House, at two (2) o'clock in the
morning deliberating whether they should adjournat twelve (12) o'clock that night,- that is, go back and adjourn, two hours before!


(also lost), to take a recess, to adjourn, to take a
recess, to adjourn, to take a recess, to adjourn,-
that is the way it goes, and that's filibustering /
A motion to adjourn, or to take a recess, or to
proceed to executive business, or to lay a matter
on the table is not debatable. Accordingly, when
such a motion is made, a vote must be taken
upon it at once; and, if decided by a simple viva
voce vote, which does not take a minute, no
advantage is gained, and the minority would
soon tire themselves instead of their opponents by
making motions every other minute or so. This
would never do, of course, for, if the majority will
not consent to any of these dilatory motions, the
great point then is to consume time. This is ac-
complished either by making some motion that is
debatable, or by the way in which the vote is taken.
There are different modes of taking a vote.
First and simplest, there is the viva voce vote.
Suppose a motion is made to adjourn, the presid-
ing officer stands up and puts the question thus:
"The senator from North Carolina moves that
the Senate do now adjourn. Those in favor of the
motion will say aye';" and then he pauses for a
moment while the minority respond, after which he
continues: Those opposed will say no,' where-
upon the majority instantly thunder forth their
vote, and the presiding officer, without taking
breath, concludes: "The noes have it, and the
Senate refuses to adjourn."
A second way of voting is by "division" or
"count," and if demanded, the presiding officer
says: Senators in favor of the motion that the
Senate do now adjourn, will rise and stand until
counted," and then he takes his seat for a moment
while the clerk takes a lead-pencil and slowly
points at the senators standing, and announces the
number to the chair, who says: The 'ayes' will
be seated, and the noess' will rise." Thereupon
those opposed are counted, and the vote is then an-
nounced. In the House, the Speaker does the count-
ing. He grasps the mallet-end of his gavel, and
rapidly shakes the handle at the throng. It used
to delight me to watch Speaker Blaine go through
that performance. He could move the gavel as
fast as a sleight-of-hand man. Of course the
Speaker endeavors to count only members of the
House, but in the confusion and rapid counting,
he is liable to count other persons whom he ob-
serves standing, without looking to see who they
are, and we pages took advantage of such times
to distinguish ourselves. I have often been in the

House, with a troop of Senate pages, all bent
upon fun or mischief; and during a count, when
everything was in disorder, we would jump up on
vacant chairs or other articles of furniture to ren-
der us as tall as men, and thus insure our being
counted in the vote. I have no doubt I have thus
helped to decide many important questions of in-
terest to the American people. I may also add that
we also often voted in the Senate. When the Senate
had been in session until late at night, or even
during the afternoon when we were tired out, we
have many a time voted "aye" on a viva voce
vote to adjourn and thus increase the noise. And
we considered such conduct not only justifiable,
but really praiseworthy, believing that, inasmuch
as by parliamentary rule a motion to adjourn was
always in order, it necessarily and logically followed
that it was always time to adjourn.
A third way of voting, often followed in the
House, is by "tellers." A demand for tellers,
being supported by a sufficient number of mem-
bers, the Speaker appoints two of the repre-
sentatives (generally the member making the
demand and the member leading the opposition),
and they walk from their seats to the area of
freedom in front of the desk and shake hands.
This hand-shaking is always gone through with,
although a few moments before the members desig-
nated for it may have been rather angry at each
other. Then the Speaker notifies the members
in favor of the motion to "pass between the
tellers and be counted; whereupon the minor-
ity (for I am assuming that all this voting is
pure filibustering) swarm down the aisles leading
from their seats and mass themselves around the
tellers, who hurry them through, one at a time,
giving each one a tap on the back as he passes
through, by way of keeping the tally, the members
passing between them surging up the center aisle,
or crowding around the tellers and returning to
their seats the shortest way. Then those opposed
to the motion pass between and are counted, and
the tellers report the result to the Speaker, who
in turn announces it to the House.
The first two of these methods are common
to both bodies,* and the third is peculiar to the
House alone. This last mode necessarily con-
sumes considerable time, but the other methods
are comparatively brief. But the Constitution puts
into the hands of the filibusters still another for-
midable weapon,-" the demand for the yeas and
nays f

Another way of voting is by i 11 .r.' but it is resorted to only on exceptional occasions, such as in choosing a President pro
temnpore of the Senate, etc. When this is done in the Senate, Captain Bassett takes a ballot-box' thaf is kept under the Vice-President's
desk, and passes it around among the senators sitting in their seats, each of whom deposits in it a little folded slip of paper on which he has
written the name of the nominee of his choice.
t "The yeas and nays of the members of either House on any question shall, at the desire of onefifth of those present, be entered
on the Journal." Constitution, art. I., sec. V., cl. 3.





When the "yeas and nays" are demanded, the
presiding officer of the Senate generally says:
"The yeas and nays are demanded; is there a
second?" and the senators as a rule raise their
hands in such numbers that the Chair goes on to
say: The yeas and nays are ordered." Then he
rises from his seat and says: Senators, those of
you who are in favor of the motion that
the Senate do now adjourn will, as your
names are called, say 'aye'; those op-
posed will answer 'no,'- and the clerk
will call the roll." In the House, the
members rise upon the question of tak-
ing the vote by yeas and nays," and
are counted; whereupon the Speaker
goes through a similar announcement,
always concluding with the dreary
words words that call up hideous
visions before the eyes of sleepy clerks
and pages -" And the clerk
will call the roll! "
We had some memorable
filibustering in my day. On
the night of May
22, 1874, a great
contest, in the
Senate, over a
certain bill, cul- f
minated in twen- "
ty hours of work!
The majority had
determined that
they would "sit
the bill" out that
night. Sotheyas- ,
sembled in force, /
ready to pass it
whenever they
might see their
chance. The minority were also on hand. Both
sides were nearly exhausted. As the hands of the
clock approached the hour of midnight, there was
scarcely a senator in the room. I remember that
Senator Merriman led the minority; Senator Logan
"watched" for the majority. Senator Merriman
had the floor, with the unlimited privilege of contin-
uous debate permitted by the rules, and he seemed
prepared to talk forever. But occasionally he
paused to allow another member of the minority to
make a motion to adjourn, upon which the yeas
and nays would be ordered- "And the clerk
will call the roll! "
Those words were the signal for action. Call
up the senators !" cried Senator Logan ; Call up
the senators came from Senator Merriman;
and off we went. Well, we called them up,- and

they voted! Then Senator Merriman resumed
his speech. After talking for a while, to give his
opponents time to disappear and get to sleep, he
stopped speaking, and yielded to another of the
minority to move an adjournment.
Call up the senators! shouted both sides;-
" Call up the senators! echoed Captain Bassett.


This is how we pages called them. Each of us
would rush around through the various rooms, and
give one of these sleeping senators a little tap,
shouting, Yeas and Nays and dart away to
find another. Sometimes a dozen pages would
waken the same senator. In fact, we usually ran
in a line all together.
Soon the sleepy legislators could be seen creep-
ing into the chamber from all directions, half
awake, with disheveled hair, and presenting a
woe-begone appearance generally. They would
mechanically cast their votes, the motion to adjourn
would be lost, Senator Merriman would resume



his speech, and the other senators, except the
"watchers," would again vanish as mysteriously
and as noiselessly as the soldiers of Roderick Dhu.
During all this speech-making, most of the
minority were asleep. They depended upon Sena-
tor Merriman (as most of the majority depended
upon Senator Logan and their other leaders) to
wake them at the proper time. They relied upon
him to do all the talking. He was, as I say, pre-
pared to do it. But he made a mistake. He re-
membered the courtesy, but he forgot the rules of
the Senate. He had been yielding the floor to his
friends whenever he saw fit, and resuming it again
after they had said whatever they wished. Senator
Logan at last interfered. He raised the point of
order that the senator from North Carolina could
not speak more than twice" on the matter then
pending. Senator Merriman stood aghast! The
presiding officer sustained the point of order.
That is where the demoralization of the minority
seemed to begin. At ten minutes past seven
o'clock A. M. the majority passed the bill!
How would you like to be a filibuster?



WE have thus briefly reviewed the chief feat-
ures of Congressional practice established for the
preservation of decorum and the regulation of de-
bate; and we have also seen how the strict applica-
tion of some of these rules, intended to protect
the public interests, hinders rather than helps the
transaction of business.
In order to secure to Congress the authority and
efficiency designed for it by the founders, and
which properly belong to it as the supreme rep-
resentative body in the Republic, the Constitu-
tion gave to each House the right to deter-
mine the rules of its proceedings; and that its
dignity should not be molested by rash and thought-
less men, it also gave to each House the right to
" punish its members for disorderly behavior, and,
with the concurrence of two-thirds, expel a mem-
ber."* These general provisions conferring the
right carry with them full power to enforce these
rights, as either House may deem proper.
By the possession of this right to "punish mem-
bers for disorderly behavior," therefore, it will be
seen that, to that extent, each body of Congress is
vested with judicial power. With the exercise of
that right,-however extreme the rules or pro-
ceedings established or taken by either House in
such exercise,-no tribunal or officer in the other
departments of the government can interfere. But

were Congress to attempt to enlarge this authority
so as to inflict a punishment upon private citizens
(except under peculiar circumstances, as will be
hereafter explained), it would be usurping the func-
tions confided to the Judicial Department of the
government, and would be checked by the courts.
The power in regard to compelling the attend-
ance of absent members, in such manner and
under such penalties as each House may pro-
vide," f is constantly employed. Especially is this
true at night-sessions in the House. Although no
business can be done in either body without the
presence of a quorum," or a majority of the mem-
bers,$ it is extremely difficult on ordinary occasions
to secure the necessary number without resort to this
compulsory power; in which case the Senate or
House may direct its sergeant-at-arms to arrest
Sthe absent senators or representatives wherever
they may be found and escort them to the House.
When the point of no quorum is raised, a
call of the House is usually ordered, and the
clerk calls the roll of members, and those present
respond "present," as their names are read. Having
finished the first call, the clerk reads the names of
those who did not respond on the first reading, to
give those a chance to answer who may have been
in the lobbies or elsewhere about the House, but
not in the room at the exact moment when their
names were called. When this second call of the
roll is completed,-if it shows that there is not
a quorum present,- all the doors but one leading
into the Hall are closed and locked, and at that
one door a guard is stationed to prevent any of the
absentees from entering.
When the doors are closed, the names of the
absentees are read, those who are old or infirm or
detained by sickness in their families are excused,
and after this the sergeant-at-arms is directed to
arrest and bring before the bar of the House any of
the absentees he can find--excepting those who
are. away by "leave of the House first duly ob-
tained. Then thefun begins. While waiting for
the sergeant-at-arms to execute his orders, the mem-
bers inside the Hall amuse themselves in many ways
Sand laugh in anticipation of the further enjoy-
ment they will have upon the appearance of their
remiss associates. As no work can be done, of
course, play should not be prohibited. After a
time the sergeant-at-arms appears with a batch of
arrested absentees, and taking them before the
Speaker's desk, the name of each is called, and he
is then permitted to explain his non-attendance.
These explanations are the most amusing features
of the whole performance. All sorts of excuses
are given, but most of the members, as a rule,
plead various forms of sickness -from paralysis to
atoothache Of course, during the'deliveryofthese

+ Constitution, art. I., sec. V., cl. i.


* Constitution, art I., sec. V., cl. 2.

t Constitution, art. I., sec. V., cl. i.


excuses the other members jokingly applaud and
laugh. While the prisoners may, under the rules,
be fined for their absence, still, when the House
is in good humor (as it generally is under these
circumstances for who could preserve his gravity
while that delightful comedy is being performed?)
it merely laughs again and makes fun at their ex-
pense, and teases and tries to scare them by fierce
motions to "dispose of them in various ways,-
and then excuses their neglect and allows them to
take their seats. And so this performance goes
on, the sergeant-at-arms continuing to bring in his
little groups of absentees, until, having captured
them all, or a quorum having appeared, "all fur-
ther proceedings under the call" are ordered to be
dispensed with, and the House proceeds with its
legislative work.
The power to punish for disorderly behavior is
not very frequently invoked by the House,- it is
seldom invoked by the Senate. You will readily
understand, from what I have said, that congress-
men are but men, and that the slightest remark
or affront may give rise to great excitement.
It is the first step toward misconduct that must
be checked if one would avert still greater trouble,
and, whether with congressmen or collegians, this
rule holds good. As Vice-President Fillmore, in
remarking upon the "dignity and decorum" of
the Senate, and the "powers and duties of the
Chair," in 1850, declared: "How important it is
that the first departure from the strict rule of
parliamentary decorum should be checked, as a
slight attack, or even insinuation, of a personal
character often provokes a more severe retort,
which brings out a more disorderly reply, each
senator feeling a justification in the previous ag-
gression." So you see it is with the law-makers
precisely as it is with boys and girls- one word
leads to another, the members becoming angrier
and angrier as the discussion proceeds, until,
finally, the proprieties of debate may easily be
I have seen the proceedings apparently going on
smoothly, when one member would catch the
Speaker's eye." To "catch the Speaker's eye"
means that a .member is "recognized" by the

Speaker, just as the senators are recognized by the
Vice-President, and that he thus obtains "the floor "
and the right to speak.- Some representatives seem
to have great difficulty in getting the attention of
the Speaker. One of them is reported to have said
that he had served as a member of the House for a
number of years and caught the malaria and the
measles and the mumps and nearly everything else
that was to be caught in Washington, but that he
had never yet caught the Speaker's eye.
Well, the member who has the floor may be
a fiery, forcible talker, and, beginning his speech,
gradually warms up with his subject and gradu-
ally rouses his antagonists. Suddenly he gives
one blast of scathing eloquence; and then the
other congressmen spring to their feet and glare
at the orator. Then there is confusion," for,
of course, the members whom he has assailed are
all eager to reply to him, and all leap to their feet
at once.
But these simoons of passion are not generally of
long duration. The Speaker, with the assistance of
his mace of authority and the sergeant-at-arms,
eventually succeeds in bringing the unrulymembers
to a stand-still. Then if, in the excitement, they
have gone too far, they are required to do penance.
Under the Constitution a member of Congress
can abuse, with perfect impunity, any "outsider"
under the sun. He can not be punished for slan-
der or in any other way held to answer for it
by the courts. This is known as the Constitu-
tional Freedom of Debate."* It is a very im-
portant privilege. The object of it is to allow
members to express, without fear, their honest opin-
ions about men and things. But they are not
expected to abuse each other, and when a member
does that or says anything else that is offensive to
good taste,-in other words, uses unparliamen-
tary language,"-it is regarded as an insult to the
House, and he is required to retract the words
and apologize, and in aggravated cases he is even
brought before the bar, in custody of the sergeant-
at-arms, where the Speaker pronounces upon his
head the solemn censure of the House. Nothing
less than this would appease the wounded dignity
of that mighty body.

* Constitution, art. I., sec. VI., cl. I.
(To be continued.)



A WATER-MUSEUM consists of glass vessels con-
taining fish, mollusks, larve, and such other crea-
tures as will live in the small quantity of water
these vessels hold. The great advantage that the
water-museum has over an aquarium is, that while
the latter is bulky and has many dark corners in
which you can see only with difficulty, if at all,
the jars of the museum can be easily carried about
and held to the light, so that you can readily
observe the smallest movements of your speci-
mens. Besides, in an aquarium you can have but
one kind of water at a time, either salt or fresh,
and you can keep only those specimens that will
live together peaceably; but in a water-museum
one may have both sorts of water (in different
vessels), and both marine and fresh-water speci-
mens. This museum, or water-cabinet, too, costs
very little, while an aquarium is not only expensive
but troublesome.
Before giving an account of my own experiences
with a water-museum, I will first let my readers
into the secret of making a small museum without
much trouble or expense.
We must first make sure of a sunny window,
where the museum will be out of the way, and
where there is room for a small table. Then we
must forage for the vessels in the glassware shops,
or at the dealers in chemical apparatus. I have
often been able to pick up confectionery jars which
I got cheaply because their tops were broken,
which, of course, made no difference to me. I

consider these the best for our purpose, in size
from four inches diameter by six in height to
seven inches in diameter and nine in height.
We shall presently see that a bell-glass, such as
gardeners use, will render good service in the
museum. The jars must be placed on the table
in the sunny window, so that they will all get
plenty of light, as this is necessary to most forms
of life. The bell-glass will stand if its knob is
stuck in a box of sand or a block of wood. One
or two of the larger jars had best be used for
fish, and to make them attractive their bottoms
should be covered with clean river sand and peb-
bles, or fragments of rock in the shape of grottoes,
as the fish like to rest on these and to eat the al-
most invisible weeds that grow upon them. Of
course, all the vessels must be filled with water
and sprigs of aquatic plants, such as water-cress,
vallisneria, or duck-weed, placed in them to keep
the water pure.* Many kinds of water insects are
carnivorous, or prey upon the weaker species. Of
course, it wont do to keep these in the same jar
with their victims. To find out which kinds agree,
we can mix them in the clear, shallow bell-glass,
where we can easily observe the peculiarities of each.
Now comes the great question: How are we to
obtain our specimens? Easily enough. I believe
that there is hardly a ditch, brook, or pond where
you would not find plenty of material for the mu-
seum. If you know of some convenient shallow
pond or ditch, go there some pleasant day, at any

The office of these weeds is interesting. In a vessel containing fish, for instance, where the water has been necessarily changed
once a day, by throwing in a few water-plants, a change once a week, or often once a month, will answer. For when the weeds are added,
a new set of chemical operations begin. As the water passes through the gills of the fish, they absorb what oxygen it contains, allowing
carbonic acid to pass out in its place, so that the water would soon become poisonous if it were not for the weeds that absorb the car-
bonic acid and use the carbon in making vegetable tissue, giving out in return pure oxygen (that may be seen on the leaves and
stems of the plants in bright bubbles), which is to the fish like so much pure air to us.



season of the year, when it is free from ice, carry-
ing with you a couple of preserve jars and a net
made of a double thickness of mosquito netting
fastened to a stout wire hoop, that in turn is
attached to a long handle. Look around for some
shallow spot you can reach from shore that is
covered with mud and leaves, then scoop the net
quickly around in the water two or three times,
taking in some of the mud and leaves, for in these
the insects, and sometimes the fish, hide. After
you have thus scooped a while, search the contents
of your net very carefully and save whatever looks
like a bug, a fish, or a mollusk, and put it in the
jars. I have never failed to find in this way min-
now, bream, dace, beetles, water-scorpions, tad-
poles, snails, and many other specimens.
There are a few simple rules that, in keeping a
water-museum, must be strictly observed. In the
first place, never overstock your vessels, or your
specimens will die of suffocation. Never allow
the water to become warmer than 65 degrees by
Fahrenheit thermometer, for a higher temperature
than that is fatal to most of your specimens. Never
let decayed bread, meat, or any dead matter stay
in the jars, for this poisons the water. Use a
syphon to draw off the water from the jars, and
always pour the fresh water gently in.
With these few rules and with your own powers
of observation, you will get on well enough. The
intelligent museum-keeper will carefully study the
habits of his specimens and adapt his means to
their needs and peculiarities. For instance, the
caddis-worms need a supply of small sticks and
grasses to keep their houses in repair, and the
water-scorpion dreads the sunlight, and must be
kept out of it, or else he will die; in short, almost
every species has its peculiar wants.
My water-museum began modestly with two jars
and a gold-fish globe. In two hours spent at a
small pond near my house I found enough material
to fill all these, if I except a venerable gold-fish
who was an old family friend. In my pet jar,
which was three-fourths full of water, I placed the
gold-fish, a pair of small bream, another of dace,
four minnow, six snails, two caddis-worms, and a
larvae of dragon-fly, besides a few sprigs of a fine
water-grass and cress to keep the water pure.
The gold-fish immediately assumed the head of
affairs, and struck up an intimacy with the sober-
sided dace. The minnow were the life of the
establishment, their graceful bodies- flashing with
all the colors of the rainbow as they swam gayly
about, or jumped out of the water to snatch a few
crumbs with which I fed them weekly. While
they lived at the top of the water the jolly little

bream, whose funny faces seemed always laughing,
kept near the bottom, or among the pebbles there.
The caddis-worms in their odd little houses of
sticks, stones, and shells were always up to mis-
chief; sometimes one would catch hold of a patient
snail and try to glue it to his house, and after a
struggle, in which the strong snail would manage
to get away, Mr. Caddis would hide his head in
the grass and keep still, as if he felt very foolish
and ashamed. At other times they would have
a wrestling match, and we would heartily laugh
to see them push and tug one another about.
The dragon-fly was sulky and savage, and ate up
whatever came in his way. With my magnifying-
glass I could see his heart beat. The snails were
the domestics, and kept the glass clean by eating
off the green scum of minute plants, called con-
fervae, that grew upon it. I scarcely had them a
week before I saw what looked like small patches
of jelly on the sides of the jars.. With my hand-
lens I saw that these masses were laid by my
snails, and that they contained hundreds of little
snails a deal smaller than the head of a pin. These
grew very perceptibly from week to week, and
soon in the place of my half-dozen original snails
I had an immense force atwork cleaning the glass.
Altogether, I had a very happy and interesting
family in the jar, which gave me only the trouble
of occasionally changing the water and adding a few
weeds. Only twice, indeed, did I draw off the
water entirely, and then it was for the purpose of
washing the sand and pebbles from the accumula-
tion of crumbs that threatened to poison the water.
Toward spring my caddis-worms became very
quiet, and wove little silken veils over the doors
of their houses. One morning two of these houses
were unoccupied, and, looking around my room,
I saw two beautiful caddis-flies fluttering about
trying their new-found wings. But the dragon-fly,
when he came out from his winter coat, was the
sensation of the hour, with his slender blue body
and dainty wings; how reluctant I was to open the
window and to let him fly off in the June breeze !
When the warm weather came, and vacation
time with it, I restored all my specimens to the
pond, that they might not die by neglect, for it is
very cruel to allow even the tiniest creature to
suffer when its life is in our keeping.
Perhaps the greatest pleasure I got from my
museum was by looking up the peculiarities of my
specimens in books and observing them in the
living form. This habit gave me an interest in
natural history that has never abated, and that
has enabled me to see many things in nature that
otherwise I never should have noticed.


VOL. XII.-50.





THE four Eskimo children with whom I became
best acquainted during my arctic trip were in my
sledge-party in a journey from North Hudson's Bay
to King William's Land and back again, which
occupied nearly a year. Their names were Ah-
wan-ak, Koo-man-ah, I-yawk-a-wak, and Kood-
Ahwanak was a boy of about fourteen or fifteen,
Koomanah a boy of from twelve to thirteen,
Iyawkawak was my driver's little two-year-old
baby boy, and Koodleuk was a bright little three-
year-old girl. Ahwanak and Koomanah, of course,
were good-sized boys, and able to do considerable
work for us, on even so hard a trip as was ours.
These boys walked nearly the entire distance, but
the babies lyawkawak and Koodleuk, when they
were not in their mothers'hoods, always rode on the
sledges that their fathers managed. Their place
upon the sledges was near the front of the load,
close to their fathers, who, as dog-drivers, managed
their sledges from this place, and could thus easily
watch their little children, and see that they did not
tumble off when riding over rough or steep places.
In lashing on the loads, a nice sort of a place
would be fixed, where the two babies could cuddle
in and rest as comfortably as if they were in a baby-
carriage. Here they would ride nearly the whole
day, excepting at such times as their mothers
would take them into their hoods; and despite the
bumpings of the sledge or the raw cold weather,
they would be pleasant and jolly enough to make
a civilized baby ashamed of itself. Sometimes,
however, the babies would cry with the cold, and
have to be put in their mothers' warm hoods to
keep them from freezing; but the amount of cold
they would stand without complaining was really
remarkable. And, notwithstanding the bitter
exposure they undergo, such a thing as a cold is
almost unknown among Eskimo children.
Every hour or two, according as the pulling was
hard or the load heavy, the sledge would stop for
ten or fifteen minutes to give the dogs and every
one else a good rest. The two babies would then
be taken from the sledge, and allowed to run about
and exercise until the sledge would start again.
However much they might tumble over the hard
snow, there was but little danger of their hurting
themselves, so heavily were they clothed in their

dresses of reindeer skin, looking, for all the world,
like great big balls of fur running about. After
the party had gone into camp, the little babies
played about among the sleeping dogs or whatever
attracted their attention, until the reindeer bedding
was arranged inside the igloo, when the little
people were undressed and put to bed.
After the lamp has been burning until the small
snow house is about as warm as is advisable, the
babies crawl out and play about on the bed. Iyawvk-
awak and Koodleuk had such unpronounceable
names that they were hard to remember; and so
the men of our party called the boy "Jack," and
the girl Rosy," on account of her rosy red cheeks.
Most of the Eskimo children have red cheeks,
despite the dark hue of their faces, and though
they are rarely free from dirt. .Yet, the children's
faces are generally neater than those of the grown-
up people, many of whom look really horrible, as
they never wash their faces.
The wives of Toolooah and Ikquiesek both were
very particular with their children, and little Jack"
and "Rosy" were as neat Eskimo children as you
could possibly find.
The two boys, Ahwanak and Koomanah, had a
great deal of work to do about the camp, much
of which has already been described 'in former
articles. They had been through some curious
adventures even before I met them.
At one time, when he was about ten years old,
Koomanah was walking, with his little sister and
brother, on the salt-water ice that forms for two or
three miles wide along the shores of Hudson's Bay,
when they were greatly terrified to find that the
great field of ice on which they were walking had
separated from the firm shore-ice, and was drifting
out to sea. A great lane of water which lay between
them and their homes was every minute growing
wider; and worse than all, a storm was coming up,
which would make it still harder to escape. Before
long, their situation became known, and many a
brave man started out in the rough waters in his
little frail sealskin canoe, or kiak, to do his best
to rescue the children. In a little while, Koomanah
saw their rescuers; but the storm had made the
waves so heavy that the edges of the ice-field
were broken into a thousand floating cakes, many
of them as big as small houses, which turned
and tumbled over one another in a way to ap-
pall even the stoutest heart. But brave young

* Copyright, by Frederick Schwatka, 1885.



Koomanah was equal to the emergency, and, fear-
ful .as it seemed, he knew he must cross that
wide space of rolling, heaving, tumbling blocks of
ice before he could reach the skin canoes of the
rescuers, who, of course, picked out the best place
possible to accomplish their daring attempts.

of the bay that surrounded them, and all hope of
seeing land until the gale subsided was given up.
Besides the two men and Ahwanak, there were
a sledge and four or five dogs on the ice-raft.
Taking things rather coolly, after they had recov-
ered from their surprise and disappointment, they


At last, Koomanah found a suitable place, and
taking advantage of an apparent lull in the storm,
without hesitation he started across the pack with
his brother's and sister's hands in his; and know-
ing that their lives depended on his judgment,
he carefully picked his way from block to block.
A dozen times, either he or the children slipped on
the dancing ice, and once a great block near them
rolled completely over, deluging them with water
and blinding Koomanah with the spray. Recovering
himself, he still splashed and struggled on like a lit-
tle hero. At last one block, on which they stopped
a moment, tilted on its side, and threw them in a
heap. Here one of the little children was crushed
between two great grinding cakes of ice, and sunk
out of sight in the tossing, foaming water. Koo-
manah grasped the other child in his arms, and,
staggering and plunging over the ice, the toss-
ing and turning of which grew worse as he neared
its outer edge, he managed to throw the baby he
had saved close to a kiak, and then threw him-
self after it. Both were picked up and were soon
safe in their home, which, though made desolate by
the loss of one little one, had still two left, one of
whom would be acknowledged as a little hero the
world over.
Ahwanak's adventure was even more exciting,
though he had no little children in his charge.
He had gone with his big brother Iquiesek and
with Nannook, a splendid hunter of the village, on
a walrus hunt. The three were caught on an ice-
floe, or solid field of ice, which suddenly separated,
and the piece on which they stood was blown
straight out to sea. It sailed on until, in the drift-
ing storm, nothing was to be seen but the waters

went to work and built a good strong igloo to pro-
tect them from the storm. Presently a walrus
crawled up to ride on their ship of ice; they killed
it, and, dragging its carcass up to their snow
house, made a lamp out of the thick hide, prepared
some lamp-wicking from pieces of cloth, cut a
quantity of blubber from the walrus, and in a little
while had their igloo about as warm as one regu-
larly constructed on the land, and had, at the same
time, plenty of meat for themselves and their few
dogs. If they had only been provided with bed-
ding, they could have safely remained on the island
of ice all winter, so far as any fear of starvation was
concerned. As it was, they drew their arms out
of their coat-sleeves, and went to sleep in their
clothes, as do all Eskimo when without bedding.
For two days the storm raged. They seldom
ventured out, and could not tell which way they
were drifting. On the third day, however, the
storm cleared up, the long sledge was placed
against the snow house, and from its topmost slat
Ahwanak scanned the horizon for some sign of
land, or something by which they might tell where
they were. In the course of the day the prisoners
on the ice-raft sighted on the horizon the bold
headland of Poillon Point, and by night-time the
tide and current had set them in so close to the
land that they were able to reach the firm ice along-
shore, where they soon hitched up their dogs and
rode home as fast as they could over the twenty
miles that intervened-greatly astonishing and
delighting their anxious friends. These driftings
out to sea on great cakes of ice, however, are rather
common adventures, and nearly every hunter has
had one or two such experiences in his life-time.


But to return to Ahwanak and Koomanah.
When we left our morning's camp for our day's
journey, the two boys would walk along, with but
little to do; but if reindeer were seen grazing on
the distant hills, Ahwanak and Koomanah would
take charge of two of the sledges, while the men
seized their guns and tried to kill some of the deer.
If the reindeer were directly in our path, the dogs
and sledges halted, and the two boys had only to
stand guard; but if they were off our track, then the
sledges kept on their way, some man taking the
foremost sledge, and the boys easily driving the
dogs, which very willingly follow a sledge-track in
front of them. In case the party halted, the boys
would watch the hunters from the top of a loaded
sledge, and if they saw one come to the top of a
ridge or on a hill, and with one arm extended,
swing his body from a perpendicular nearly to the
ground, they knew a reindeer had been killed, and
that two or three of the dogs were needed to drag
off the body. Then they would unhitch these from
the team, and take them over to the hunter, who
would fasten their traces around the reindeer's
horns, and drag it to the sledge. Occasionally
the two boys would try a reindeer hunt on their
own hook, and although they were seldom success-

manah use this dwarf gun, as the boycould easily fire
it from his shoulder. This, of course, increased its
accuracy of aim, as it could be held much steadier.
It held six cartridges, and could, therefore, be
fired six times without reloading. As so wonderful
a gun in so young a person's possession was never
before known among these simple people, Koo-
manah was greatly elevated in their estimation, and
felt very proud and elated over his fine weapon.
As I have said, the two boys seldom interfered
with the hunting of the men, and when they took
their guns (for Ahwanak had a musket that he
greatly prized) and went away from the sledges, it
was nearly always to go far to the right or left and
hide behind some ridge. Here they would wait to
see if the reindeer ran in that direction after the
men had fired at them, in which case they might
get a running shot as they passed. The farther
north we penetrated, the more stupid were the rein-
deer; and having never before heard a shot fired,
they would run about in a frightened and aimless
way, thus giving the boys a much better chance at
One day, while going through a.narrow valley
between steep hills, reindeer were reported ahead.
The sledges were stopped, and the hunters with

ful, not daring to frighten the deer from the men
who were better hunters, yet once in a while they
were rewarded, and then their eyes would fairly
glisten with joy and pride.
Colonel Gilder, of our party, was very kind to
little Koomanah, and becoming tired of carrying
his revolver, he took off the ordinary wooden pis-
tol-butt and put in a longer one, more like a gun-
stock, and roughly made of walnut. He let Koo-


their guns went on to try to kill some; Koo-
manah and Ahwanak following slowly behind
with their guns to see if they could possibly get a
shot. Seeing a small break or pass in the steep
hills to their left, the boys entered it to go into the
next valley, hoping the deer might cross their
path. They were nearly through, when they heard
shots, and, keeping a short distance apart, they
concealed themselves as well as they could by
lying behind some stones, and awaited results.
The reindeer, frightened by the rapid shooting,




broke in a circle around the hunters, and were
rushing down the valley, when they saw the dogs
and sledges. Quick as a flash, they turned up the
pass the boys had entered. When the deer came
trotting along, and were within about a hundred
yards of Koomanah, they turned suddenly around
and stopped, and, with eyes dilating and ears
pricked up, they looked backward through the
pass, watching for danger, but never dreaming of
that directly ahead of them in the shape of two
small boys.
This stoppage gave Koomanah a splendid shot,
but a long one; and with his heart in his mouth,
for fear of missing, he took a broadside aim at a
big buck, over the stone behind which he was hid-


den. "Bang!" went Koomanah's pistol-gun, and
away went the deer like arrows. But they had not
gone a score of yards before the big buck com-
menced to stumble, and in a little while rolled over
on its side and commenced kicking in the air.
Koomanah's shot had been much better than he
thought when he saw them all start away together.
Of course, Koomanah had a right to be proud now
over this big reindeer, that would have taken a half
a dozen boys of his size to pack into camp, and he
was highly praised for his sportsmanship.
During the whole trip Koomanah killed ten
reindeer and Ahwanak six. There were two shot-
guns with the party, and as none of the hunters
seemed to monopolize the smaller game as they
did the reindeer and seal, the two boys had great

sport with the small game, and we were constantly
regaled with the ducks, geese, and ptarmigan that
they brought in.
One of the special duties of the boys was to look
after duck-eggs when in season. At this they
were very successful, for during the summer the
eider-ducks swarm in countless numbers to the
island of King William's Land, where they hatch
and rear their young disturbed by but few of
their enemies,- the wolves, wolverines, and foxes.
Many a nice dish of eggs did we have through the
vigilance and energy of Koomanah and Ahwanak.
As we were then living on nothing but seal and rein-
deer meat, these eggs were considered a great lux-
ury. After the small ducks had grown large enough
to be eatable, the
two boys killed a
great number, -
Ahwanak securing
over fifty in one
day. The Eskimo
'boys are excellent
stone-throwers. It
is no uncommon
thing for them to
kill a ptarmigan
or a duck in this
Manner, as well as
-- the little ground-
squirrel (or mar-
mot), common in
that country, and
bring it in to be
eaten. As is the
Case with most sav-
ages, the Eskimo
children have few pets, as they have no way to
take care of them.
Thus far, all that I have said has, I am glad to
say, been wholly in favor of our two boys; but
they had one bad habit for folk so young, al-
though it is a habit which is common among the
young Eskimo. This is smoking. As soon as they
can learn to draw a pipe, they begin; and both
men and women smoke, although the boys and
women generally smoke a weed that grows in the
Arctic country, and is not nearly so strong nor
disagreeable as tobacco.
After Koomanah and Ahwanak returned to the
northern part of Hudson's Bay at the close of our
year's sledge-trip, they were given the guns they
had so well earned, and ammunition for them also.

(To be continued.)





ONCE .there were two per-sons.named Flo-ra.
One was a tall la-dy, and one was a lit-tle girl;
and one was an aunt, and the oth-er was a
niece. Aunt Flo-ra wore a pret-ty blue gown
with a long train; but Niece Flo-ra had on-ly a
short pink cal-i-co frock. This
she did not like, for she was
". '; ver-y fond of fine clothes.
Siii One day Aunt Flo-ra went
a-way, and she left the door
i.. of her room o-pen. Lit-tle
-: ,,, /i Flo-ra, com-ing by, peeped in,




and see-ing some things ly-ing on the bed, she went in to ex-
am-ine them. There was a long blue shawl, just the col-or
of Aunt Flo-ra's dress; and a white bon-net with blue feath-
ers and a long red par-a-sol. Flo-ra took up the pret-ty bon-
net and looked at it. Then she saw a lit-tle girl in the big
look-ing-glass,-a lit-tle girl in a pink cal-i-co frock. Then
Flo-ra put the bon-net on, and the lit-tle girl put on one ex-act-
ly like it. How pret-ty she looked! But what was the use of
*a bon-net, with-out a long dress? That shawl, now, would make
a very nice train. Flo-ra did not know which thought of it
first, she or the oth-er lit-tle girl; but in an-oth-er min-ute each
had a blue shawl pinned a-round her waist, mak-ing a ver-y
long train in-deed. "Now for the par-a-sol!" smiled the oth-er
lit-tle girl. Flo-ra was quite sure that she spoke this time, so
up went two red par-a-sols. "How pret-ty we do look !" said
Flora. "But it is sil-ly to car-ry par-a-sols in the house. I
must go out-of-doors." Then Flo-ra went out toward the barn
to see James the farm-boy, for she knew he would ad-mire her
fine dress. But there was no-bod-y at all in the barn-yard
ex-cept the old pig in the sty. Flo-ra did not like the old pig,
but still he was
she said: "Pig, "
see my long train !
don't you wish you
had one? Well, I
don't be-lieve you
ev-er will have
one; so thIere/"
This was rude, and the pig was dis-pleased, for he knew what
man-ners were, al-though he was un-ti-dy in his hab-its. So as
Flo-ra swept by, he poked his head out and caught hold of
the long train. "Hunk!" said the pig, and he gave it a great
jerk. Oh! oh !" cried Flo-ra, and down she fell in-to a mud-
pud-dle. The fine bon-net, the blue train, and the red par-a-
sol, all were spoiled. Poor Flo-ra cried; but the old pig smiled.
L __ __II



1 ,.:
-. -- -



FIRST and foremost this month, my friends, you
shall hear the Deacon's report on the prize contest,
FIFTEEN OWNERS WANTED, which was opened
in May* last. Only fifteen nameless feet and legs,
and fully four thousand two hundred and sixty-
nine girls and boys who want to name them My,
what a busy time Deacon Green has had reading.
all those lists of names And what hosts of differ-
ent animals must have legs exactly alike, if all the
answers are correct But let us hear what the
Deacon himself has to say:
"My dear 4269 children:
I thank you'all for your hearty response to my re-
quest for a neat, brief, and correct list of the owners
of the fifteen legs of which Mr. Dan Beard showed
you pictures in the May ST. NICHOLAS.
It has been very hard to decide among all
these answers which three were the very best, as
so many of the lists were almost exactly right and
almost exactly alike.
"Yet, strangely enough, there was just one list
that had the names precisely, word for word, as
Mr. Beard gave them to me.
The Little School-ma'am says that some of the
legs would do quite as well for some other animals;
yet it seems but right, in view of such uniformity
of excellence, to give the first prize to the one
sending the names of the very animals from which
the leg-pictures were drawn. And I am sure that
the 3974 American contestants will rejoice with
the 295 foreign contestants that, in accordance
with this decision, the first prize is won by a little
ten-and-a-half-year-old Scotch cousin, named John
H. Deans, who lives near the famous city of
Edinburgh. This is his list:
I, Human foot; 2, Dog; 3, Stork; 4, Tiger;
5, Rat; 6, Cat; 7, Deer; 8, Crow; 9, Child;
10, Cock; II, Duck; 12, Rabbit; 13, Horse; 14,
Monkey; 15, Cow.
S0e ST. NICHOLAS for May, page t For

"The second and third prizes were still harder
to decide upon; but taking all the conditions into
consideration, together with the advice of the Little
School-ma'am and Mr. Beard, we found John
Easter of Maryland (aged nine years) most fairly
entitled to the second prize, and Bessie Thrall of
Indiana to the third.
"How near all the following girls and boys
came to being prize-winners, they can see by
referring to John H. Deans's list.
Your faithful friend, SILAS GREEN.

R. W. Meade, Jr.-Jenny W. Noble-Edna Carey-J. M.
Mitcheson-K. C. Rockwood- Charles Crawford-W. T. Cottrell
- Ellicott R. Colson Agnes Thompson N. W. Dorsey Thekia
Gottesleben -Kate H. Spalding- Mary A. Forse- O. L. Hall.
Fred. Fralick--Menie Deans -Arthur Strang--John A. John-
ston, Jr.- Louis Dickson- Paul Loving -Edith P. Thomson -
Geo. C. Willson Mamie James-Augustus M. Stillman-Edith
M. Hart- David Ericson -Lizzie Smith- Daisy B. King- Will
Smiley Marjorie R. Anthony-Dora Bennett-Alice W. Brown
-Allie A. Milliken-Florence Smith-Theodore Kelsey-Mary
Brotherton -Edna Dickerson -Willard E. Aikman -Jessie L. Mit-
chell -Mabel and Edith- F. C. Lyon-K. S. Burchell- Charley
Gerry- Silas B. Brower Lorrin Andrews Grace Hickox- Helen
Crane--Betsy Miller--Florence Nichol-E. T. Adney--Bessie
Harlow--Mattie Hebersmith--Muriel J. Armstrong-Thatcher
W. Hoyt- May Farnam- Sarah C. Neely- Emma Weighell-
Susie E. Mason Bessie Burch- Bertha Cist-George Watson--
Geo. Easton--Sammie T. Birmingham- Grant Francis-Arthur
W. Bingham -Blanche Huntington Stanley- Harry Bradford-
Horatio Knight Bradford--Irene Ackley-Lulu A. Barnes--J.
Mercer Garnett, Jr.-Louise H. Selden-Isabelle T. Moore-
Anna K. Foulkrod -Anna Holmes Banks -Lizzie Lineaweaver-
Addie Johnson--Alice Stevens-K. D. Quay-Annie K. Le-
moyne- Margaret Edson Mabel L. Hastings -Winifred Norwood
-Bertie Vail-Julia M. Sickels- Charles C. Helmick--Maggie
Cole Frank P. Smith Rosalind Richards- May Mazel Floyd
Frazier-Nora Sissons-Annie Elizabeth Butchard-Arthur P.
Stone-Jane Douglas Butchard-S. Livingston- Edward W. Good-
win- Clark Holbook Charles Cune, Jr.--Walter T. K. Brown
-Bessie S. Adams E. S. Perkins--William F. Patten--Robert
R. Dearden, Jr.- N. H. Burdick-Frederick Dabney -Ida Fait-
oute Laura M. Smith Minnie Zeamer-- F. L. Burns Clara L.
H.- L. Anderson Gertrude Floyd-- Margaret Blair Goodyear-
G. W. C. Noble-Peter G. Peltret-Carrie S. Many-Daisy
Sharpe -William S. Beaumont A. F. Reddie Mamie Higbee -t

LITTLE Carrie S. of La Porte, Indiana, writes that
she does not see "how the fire-fly could throw a
light so that it could shine through a frog's skin ";
but, on the other hand, a little girl of Pomeroy,
Ohio, sends this letter:
last summer, I was visiting a cousin at Marietta,
Ohio, and one evening we saw a very dignified old
toad come out near the porch. Cousin Helen and
myself thought we would give him a fire-fly that
we had caught. We fed it to him, andit illuminated
his stomach. Truly, your young friend,
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I read your story
of the illuminated frog in the April ST. NICHO-
LAS, and can tell one to match it. Last summer
our family was spending some time at Lake
George, and we fished a great deal. One night I
caught a fire-fly, and put it on a fish-hook, and
dropped it into the lake. A fish swallowed the
bait, and when I pulled it out of the water, we were
the rest of the Roll of Honor, see "Letter-box," page 795.




greatly surprised to find the fish illuminated, and
when-the fly fluttered in the fish it lighted him up.
This continued for several minutes, and a number
of people at the hotel came down to see it.
Your little friend,


DEAR JACK: Knowing your affection for a
I thought you might like to hear of our wild
which we caught nearly two years ago in
so you see there is such a thing as a live We
bit. He was then
little more than a
month old, and
could sit with ease
on a lady's hand.
He is now ex-
ceedingly tame, /
and delights in
being petted and
stroked ; some- /
times when I call
him he will come i
and sit up on his
hind legs and try -
to kiss me. Our
home is in Lon-
don, and he lives
in a hutch in the
conservatory; but -:2
he gets plenty of <
exercise, for he has
at least two runs
a day either in the i
school-room or
drawing-room. At 1
one time we used
to allow him to
run up and down
stairs, which he
could do with great
ease; but that was
before we had a
dog. He is very
inquisitive, and
will hop upon the
table, -and if he
sees a pen or a
pencil,,will pick it
up in his mouth
and throw it on
the floor. He likes warm milk, which he w
out of a cup, though he prefers the saucer.
any of your readers ever kept an ordinary
rabbit ? I have never known or heard of
one tamed. Your constant reader,

birds and all creatures of the woods and fields,
has sent you this true story:

One day last summer I saw a lively red squirrel running along the
fence, followed by what I at first thought to be a very light-colored
rat. The little thing seemed quite feeble, and crawled slowly along,
while the squirrel ran back and forth, apparently coaxing it forward.
At last, becoming alarmed by some noise, the squirrel picked the in-
valid up in her mouth and ran with it to the nearest tree. I was con-
vinced that it must be a young squirrel, either an albino or a cross
between the red and gray. Whateverit was, the litter was all alike, for
Isaw three orfourafterward, all of this very light-gray color: Onewas
caught and tamed, but unfortunately it did not survive many weeks.
It continued the same color on the back, but the nose, tail, and paws
grew a trifle more reddish. The last time I saw one of them it was
nearly full-grown, and only a careful observer wouldhave noticed any
red aboutit. They all appeared, while young, much tamer than the
mother, but as they grew larger no difference was seen in this re-



----- -


ill drink spect. The one which was brought up in the house was very affec-
Have tionate and interesting. Its owner decided that it could see for only
a short distance, for when called it would run first in one direction
warren' and then in another, butwhen within a foot or so of its master would
another seem to perceive him for the first time. This, however, may be a
common failing in young squirrels. I should be glad to know if
Deacon Green or the Little School-ma'am can furnish a parallel for
L.C. this red mother of a white family.

WHITE SQUIRRELS. Yes, the dear Little School-ma'am found a
young white sparrow last winter. I will ask her
A GOOD friend of mine, who lives in New soon to tell you all about it, my children. This
Hampshire, and who loves to watch squirrels and 'little white sparrow-had a curious history.




CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the Ist of June and the x5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been looking through the "Letter-
box," and only once have seen a letter from Australia. We live on
the coast of North Queensland. This is a lovely place, almost sur-
rounded with mountains, and we have a fine view of the sea. We
have a number of ponies, and often go for rides.
We like all your stories very much, especially Louisa M. Alcott's
"Spinning-wheel Stories." Hoping to see this in the "Letter-box."
We are your admiring readers, JULIET AND NELLIE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought, perhaps, you would like to hear
from a little girl far over the sea. I have been intending to write to
you all this winter, but never have had time. When you go to school
in Germany, you do not have time to do anything. Not that they
give hard lessons, but you have to stay in school such a long time,
and go at such an unearthly hour. At eight o'clock in winter, and
sevenin summer. Just outside the city is "Herrenhausen," the beau-
tiful palace of the Kings of Hanover. It is several hundred acres
in extent. There is a palm-house and a lovely out-of-doors theater.
I am going to tell you a little story that a German lady told
me the other day. On her farm near Bremen, there was a family
of storks. A boy took one of the young storks, put a ring around its
neck, and attached to it a message, bearing his name, address, and
greetings to the person who should find it. The next spring it came
back again, with another message on it, in a language that they
could not read. They took it to some learned man, who read it for
them in Arabic, and gave them a good deal of money for it. If it
had been mine, I would not have sold such a curiosity. This is the
seventh year I have taken ST. NICHOLAS, and I think it is splendid.
Now I must say good-bye.
Your loving friend and reader, NELLIE G. P.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am going to tell you a funny story about
a black cat of ours. We put a box of bird-seed in a closet, and the
next day, when the servant went to get the seed for the birds, she
found that some mice had eaten it all up. And that night we set a
trap to catch them. In the morning we opened the door, and the
black cat sprung at the dead mouse in the trap, and ran into the
next room, with trap and all in his mouth. My sister ran after him
with the tongs, but the cat still held on; at last he pulled the mouse
out of the trap and ate it up; but we took the other mouse in.the
trap away from him, and sent him out of the room.
Your devoted reader, EDITH O'D.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to tell you about a funny little cow
we have. Papa wanted the grass for the cow, so he had to put the
calf into a hired pasture, and when the man took her,- would you be-
lieve it? the very next night, about eleven o'clock, she came home;
and then when he took her again, he went in the wagon and tied her
to it, so as not to let her smell along the road, and that very night
we were sitting on the porch wondering whether she would come
back, and my sister said: There she is down on the lawn! And
while she was coming up she did not stop to eat any grass, she was
so glad to be at home. The first time, the man took her two or three
miles away; but the second time, he took her still farther. Her name
is Daisy. From your friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am four years old. I send my love. I
used to live in Woodland. I have sixteen kittens, and lots of scrap
cats, too. My sister's name is Rosa. When Papa sees my name in
the magazine, he will say, "Why, one of the children has write "
Will Oscar please tell us what soft of a cat a scrap cat" is ?

My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder if you have forgotten your
English admirer whose letter you so kindly printed. In that letter,
you may remember, I said that I wanted to taste pop-corn. You

will be glad to hear that an American friend of mine sent me some,
and that at last I had my wish granted after waiting fifteen years!
Lots of love to Jack-in-the-Pulpit, the Little School-ma'am, and
yourself. I remain, your loving reader, F. A.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am an old lady. I have taken ST.
NICHOLAS ever since it was first issued, for my nieces, Hattie and
Mabel. They are now young ladies, but think they can not do with-
out their delightful old friend.
I myself am very fond of your visits, bringing so much that is
"useful and beautiful and true."
We all love you, the old as well as the young, and bid you wel-
come and God speed.
Please tell Mr. Palmer Cox that we think his "Brownies" are
the funniest little creatures that ever appeared to us mortals. The
dude with his eye-glass, and all 'of the solemn, comical little faces,
are perfectly irresistible. H. D.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for five years, and we
like you better than any other magazine. We think the pictures are
splendid, and my grandfather says he never saw a children's book
with better engravings. In the first part of "Personally Con
ducted," we liked to see the picture of Liverpool Landing Stage,
because we land there every day, having to cross the Mersey on the
way to school, and we think that paddle-boat is the one we cross in.
We like the stories of historic boys and girls; and was it not queer ?
- last month there was a sketch of "Zenobia of Palmyra," and only
the month before her portrait was in our sketch-book. Perhaps
your readers would like to know about it. The sketching-club was
started about three years ago, and there are eight members. Every
month we choose a subject, and then all draw illustrations of that
subject. The secretary pastes them in a book, and an artist friend
criticises them. Then each member criticises and votes for the four
she likes best. When the book is full, the one who has the most
votes keeps the books. All our friends think it a good idea, and
we all know it has done us good. I think if you let your children
know of this plan, they will like it. We should like to say some-
thing else, but this letter is long enough already. We have never
written to you before. EVELINE .AND WINIFRED.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your magazine for four years,
and like it very much. We are staying here for a few weeks. Mabel
and I love to go down to the sea-shore and watch the ships come in.
There are four war ships in the harbor. I have been on the admi-
ral's ship "Northampton "; it's a large ship; I wish all the little
boys that read ST. NICHOLAS could see it. There are nine forts here,
and a good many English soldiers, besides the volunteers; it looks
pretty to see the red-coats on the street. Some of the soldiers have
been ordered off to the North-west.
I am ten years old, and Mabel is seven. If you would like to hear
more about Halifax, I will write again.
Yours truly, GEORGE N. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I 've no doubt that there are a great
many little girls and boys who have never noticed the different
characters of the Brownies," which appear on the pages of the
In every picture of those funny little men may he traced the same
amusing characters. For instance, we will mention the Dude, who
is never engaged in employment of any description, while all the
rest of the "Brownies" are working as though their very existence
depended upon it. But our aristocratic dude (as we might say)
walks around with as much dignity as though he was a gentleman
of leisure. He may always be known by his eye-glass, walking-
cane, and silk hat.
Then we have the Irishman, who takes quite a prominent part in
the pictures, has on a very funny little sugar-loaf hat, and can cer-
tainly be known by his turned up nose and smiling countenance.
In the April number of the ST. NICHOLAS may be seen the all-
important little Dutchman, who, with his large hat, is busily engaged
in carrying some branches up the hill.


We have also the court jester, and a great many other characters
which I will let the children trace out themselves.
I hope that my little friends, since I have drawn their attention to
these wee Brownies," may amuse themselves by looking over the
different pictures, and seeing how many queer, tiny men there are.
Very truly, T. P. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I have taken you for a long time, and
have never written to you before, I just want to tell how very fond
of you I am, and how glad I am when the 25th of every month
comes, so that I may get you, come home and curl myself up in a
corner, and read your splendid stories until tea-time, for
Dear old ST. NICK,
I do love you so, I really don't know
Whatever I should do
If I could not have you.
I remain, your affectionate reader, V. S.

(DEAR EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS: If any of the names on my
Roll of Honor in the "Fifteen Owners" competition should be
unavoidably crowded out of "Jack's" pages, will you please find
space for them in The Letter-Box, and oblige
'Your obedient servant, SILAS GREEN.)

Edith Higbee-Loena Mekeel-Josie Leavitt-Genie Gillett-
Louise Thompson -Annie Rice-Alex. E. Wight-James S. King
-M. Robbins- Eda L. Baldwin-J. Roper-Florence Fargo-
Julette K. Jackson Isabelle Z. Plume Willie Mossman Helen
L. Tracy Lilian G. Bates- Bessie S. Green -Alice Gouvy--
Margaret B. Miller -Henry A. Truslow--Howard Emerson-
Nora Glenny May Latrobe Franklin Blake Morse Jennie M.
Dodge May A. Brown --Alice Peirson Roland Lindsav Co-
rina A. Shattuck L. C. Connolly Laura Ricketts Fred. Snyder
- Edward F. Burke Clifford McBride Margaretta Spear Lyt-
ton Foshay Clarence H. Robison Richard E. Vose Josie
Bochman Arthur D. Smith -Abbie F. Brown--Alice Austen--
W. J. Bower- Mary E. Hotchkiss- Ethel Grimley-- Frank H.
Lowe C. Hull Lilian Lloyd- Willie H. Tomlinson Catherine
Harris Josephine Currier Mattie Wetherbee Louis Irving
Reichner-Madge K. Lothrop-Helen L. Barker-Clarence P.
Franklin- Katherine T. Sprague-E. G. R.-Anna E. Storrs-
Minnie E. Platt- Mabel T. Duncan Hattie B. Sylvester Fred
N. Reed Leroy Chamberlin- F. M. Wilkins-Emilie Doyle-
May Peabody Emily Latrobe Martha Allison R. Kehnroth
- Rodney L. Fletcher- George H. Warren-- H. Stanley Todd--
Helen P. Smith--Sarah L. Meeks--Oscar M. Chase- W. T.
Davis Myra Matteson -Walter J. Osborne- Ellen Newbold
Lammot- Richard D. Schmidt- Carrie I. Coppins-Amelia
Richards- Mary McKenzie-Clara Hawes-Amey Thurber-
Helen M. Fairchild-- Elmer C. Griffith Bobbie Douglas Lois
M. Thresher-Eugene W. Leighton-Eva Jones Minnie Miller
- Florence B. Jacobs F. P. Cooke Jacob E. Ridgway--
Robert H. Fernald Alice N. Cane Bessie Wall-- Zog Atkinson
- Alice Wiswall- Nellie La Porte Mary L. Wood- C. Mabel
Beaman-E. Maude Quiggle-Mary W. Atwater-Edith C.
Clagett Esther L. Caswell Phillips Bourne -Frank R. Blake
- Austin B. Caswell Mary de Klenck- Edgar C. Plummer--
May Robertson -Winnie Loscombe- Godfrey S. Beaumont -
Florence Dillingham- Walter Washabaugh- Guy W. McElvaney
-F. V..A. Brower- Frank Weakley--Sadie J. Kimball-D. C.
Chafee- Alice S. Wales- Emma D. Osgood- Russell Hoadley-
Mabel Horn R. PercyTivian-- Percy Mummery Charlie Fred
Stuart -William Lippert Edgar Clifford Fry Helen A. Fowler
-Anna Farquhar Lulu M. Houser- Florence A. Wood.

CUBA, April 17, 1885.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Many times have I thought I would
write and tell you about the exciting times we had about robbers
These robbers were the terror of all people living outside of the
cities. Perhaps some of your readers saw in the American news-
papers how a gentleman was carried off by them, and his wife was
forced to pay $5000 hostage for him. I know this to be true, as I
am personally acquainted with both the gentleman and his wife. I
will tell you a little adventure of mine with the robbers. One night
I and two lady friends and a brother started out for a neighboring
estate to dine. This estate was about three miles off. We told our
friends we would return at six P. M. surely. But something delayed
us, and we did not start for home till seven P. mr. We had only gone
a mile and a half, when suddenly my friend Miss G- grasped my
arm and said, "Look! I did, and saw something that made my
heart jump into my mouth. Drawn up in line in the road were three
men on horseback. We could not say a thing, but watched them

with breathless fear as we approached them. As we came up, the
light of the lantern one of them held fell on his face, and who should
it be but one of the negroes on our estate The other two men we
also knew. You cannot imagine the relief it was to us. Our friends
had become anxious because we had not returned at six p. M., and
knowing that the robbers were in the wood we had to pass through,
had sent the men to find us, fearing that the robbers might have
taken us.
Good-bye. From your devoted admirer and reader,
E. L. B.

DEAR St. NICHOLAS: When I was a wee, wee girl, mother read
you to me. I have a beautifully bound volume of you, and I take
you every month now for my very own. I like" Historic Girls" and
"Driven Back to Eden verymuch. In our last house, the nursery
window overlooked Edinburgh Castle, and we could see from it the
window from which James VI. was let down when he was a baby,
and the soldiers carried him off to Stirling Castle. My sister Evelyn
and my wee brother Bertie and I used to let our dolls down in a basket
from our nursery window in the very same way, and sometimes
they fell over the edge and broke their little necks. I am nine years
old, and I hope to take you ever so many years. I have told many
of my little friends about you, and some of them take you, too. I
don't see how any little girl can get on without you. I know I can't.
Your little reader, LINA R. T.

CHICAGO, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and enjoy very
much the lovely, lovely stories in you.
I go to Miss Grant's school, and take a good many lessons.
My teacher is very pleasant indeed. I went to New Orleans not
long ago, and saw the great Exposition, and I never saw anything
I liked better; of course, I have not seen much, but papa also said
he had never seen anything he liked so much. The wonderful ma-
chinery and all the machines ever invented were in miniature under
a large glass case. They have little ships and houses meant to
represent different hospitals, and, oh! so many things that it would
take hours to write you all about them.
I am reading all the continued stories in you all at once, and it
is rather hard to remember all I read. I like "His One Fault"
especially; but just as it gets very interesting, the author suddenly
stops, and then it is all I can do to keep from trying to guess what
is to come, which I especially do- not want to do, because I want
each ST. NICHOLAS to be a perfect surprise to your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I take you, and think you are nicer than
any other magazine I have ever taken. I have two bound volumes
of you, and they are just lovely. I can hardly wait, when one num-
ber comes of you, for the next. I have written one letter to you be-
fore this, and hope you will print this. Your faithful reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are three little girls; we are eight, seven,
and four years of age. We are each going to write a little bit to
I am Frances, and I like the "Brownies" so much, and I like the
little dude the best of all. I have a pony, but I have not named
him yet.
I am Janet. I like the ST. NICHOLAS very much. I think "Davy
and the Goblin" is one of the best stories in the ST. NICHOLAS. I
have a pony; it is called Dot.
I am Edith. I have a dog; it is ablue skye-terrier; he can sit up on
his hind legs, and he can walk on them. My dog's name is Mop.
And I have got also a pony; it is named Dimple; it will eat sugar
out of my hand.
We have the ugliest dog ever looked at; his name is Tiger. He
came from England, and he is a bull-dog.
You came to us for one of our Christmas presents, and we hope
you will come next year.
Good-bye. From EDITH (8), JANET (7), and FRANCES (4).

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We live in a pretty country place near
Boston. We have lots of animals. Our horses' names are Dan and
Nora; our cows' Cecilia and Peggy, and we have two pigs called
Paul and Elsie. Can any of your little readers tell what is good for
a sick cat? Our big cat Alfred is very sick. My big brother Leo
hit him with a bat six months ago, and he has never got well. Do
ask your readers if they know anything that will make him well, for
we love him so much. I hope you will print this and make us so
happy. Your friends,



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I never wrote a letter to you before, but I
thought .you might be pleased to know this incident about my little
This spring, for the first time in her life, she saw some young
chickens. She was so much delighted with the little beauties, that
one morning at the breakfast-table she astonished us all by saying:
"Oh, Grandma! please save all these egg-shells, and I '11 borrow
Mrs. Lee's old hen, and we can have some little chicks, too."
Your loving reader, PRICE O.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : For almost a year I have been gladdened
by your monthly visits, and no other visitor is so welcome; and
after reading, I have laid you carefully away, intending some time to
have your volumes bound.
We came here to this beautiful Indian River almost six years ago,
and have nearly all kinds of tropical fruits growing. Flowers bloom
and birds sing here all the year round, and we are lulled to sleep at
night by the murmuring sea." Often we sail across Indian River,
and there is the ocean beach strewn with all kinds of lovely shells
and bright mosses, and I gather a great many of both. These
are some of the pleasures of Florida life. I send many boxes off to
girls and boys in other States less favored than this, and if your readers
would like some, I will send some to them if they will write to me and
send stamps to pay postage.
ST. NICHOLAS, here is a health to you, and may you live forever.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the November number of 1881, E. H. S.
gave plans for a house made of burnt matches. My brother George,

aged fifteen, made one just like it; he gave it a river scene, placing
the house on a high bluff, with a gravel walk and steps leading to the
sandy beach below, where were moored a yacht and row-boat. At
one side of the house was an old-fashioned well and well-sweep. The
trees were bits of evergreen, and the shrubbery, rosemary, which we
got last summer at the shore; the grass was a piece of green plush,
and the water a piece of looking-glass. He made it for Papa's birth-
day present. It was admired so much, that Papa sent it to Southing-
ton (Conn.) Fair, where it took the first premium. I like ST. NICHO-
LAS very much, and I sometimes take it to school Friday afternoon,
and our teacher kindly reads a story to us.

WE have received pleasant letters from the young friends whose
names we give herewith. We ask them to accept our thanks and our
regrets that we can not make room for them all in the Letter-box."
Mary W. Davidson, Isabelle W. H., Clarita B. M., Marie V., Em-
mie and Bessie, Laura Davidson, Bennie James, Four-in-Hand,"
George Justice Ewing, J. O. W. and R. W. O., Arthur B. Whitney,
Vivis D., M. A. S., Fanny S. Stewart, Bennie H. Denison, Helen
Smith, Anne H., Miss M. A. S., Ilione Hurlbut, Annie Ellis,
Rose Morse, Ethel Smith, Ruth Emerson, Jay H. Sypher, Mabel
G. Thelwall, Willie, Susie, Franke, Exie, Bennie, Dorothy, Mag-
gie, Anna and Lizzie, Georgiana Emery, Tello d'Spery, J. C.
Stevenson, A. W. Borie, James B C., O. S., Lucy Webling, Daisy
Bay, Carrie Gernand, Johnny A. Tillinghast, H. F. M., J. Kimball,
Alice Grey, Lulu P. M., Lulu Chevallier, Justia B., Laura and
Lottie, Fannie Chandler, H. A. D., Alice K., "Laurence Halstead,"
Bob and Ted, Alex. Douglas, and Mary Ludlow.

AUGUST is at the very height of the collecting season. Free from
the restraints of school, and in large measure emancipated from the
restrictions of the city, our 9391 members are exploring rock-vein
and tide-pool, forest and stream, and securing material to work upon
during the coming months of winter. No two studies are more ap-
propriate for the short cold days than chemistry and mineralogy.
We hope by and by to be able to offer our friends a free course
of simple studies in minerals ; but, meanwhile, we are glad to present
a second course in entomology, for those who can not undertake the
lessons of the Brooklyn Club announced last month, as well as those
who would like to do more than that.
This course will be entirely free, and is under the care of Mr. G.
Howard Parker, Academy of Sciences, z9th and Race streets,
Phila., Pa. Five monthly papers will be expected from each mem-
ber of the class. As to the preparation of these papers, Mr. Parker
writes as follows:


IN these short studies it is desirable to collect the material for win-
ter work at once. This should consist of about a dozen specimens
of each species chosen for study. They should be collected fresh in
the field, and placed while alive in 70% alcohol, which kills them in
a very short time. Then put them in a wide-mouthed bottle with
similar alcohol, and cork tightly, standing it aside for future use.

The forms to be collected and studied, with the times at which the
papers on them will be expected, are as follows: I. On any common
swallow-tail. One species will do as well as another. The common-
est in the Eastern United States are described by Harris in Insects
Injurious to Vegetation, pp. 263 to 269. Paper due Sept. 30, 2.
On any common white or sulphur yellow. See Harris, pp. 269 to
273. October 3. 3. On one of our common blue or red hair-
streaks, preferably Lycn, A mericana. See Harris, pp. 273 to 279.
December 3. 4. On one of the great family of four-footed butterflies,
meadow-browns, wood nymphs, etc., especially Danais A rclhipus.
Harris, pp. 279 to 306. February 28, i886. 5. On a common skipper,
such as Eudamus Tityrus. Harris, pp. 307 to 318. April 30, 1886.
During the summer of x886 it is proposed to carefully study the
life histories of three of the forms of which the structure has been made
out during the winter. This will be considered in due time.
The following is an outline of our method of study:
Describe, with pencil sketches, carefully drawn,
x. The head -eyes, antennas, or feelers, the tongue, with labial
palpi on either side, etc.
2. The thorax-- ist segment, bearing ist pair of legs. 2d seg-
ment, bearing 2d pair of legs and Ist pair of wings. Note the num-
ber of joints in the legs, and distribution of the veins in the wings.
The same for the third segment. Which segments bear breathing-
pores on their sides ?
3. The abdomen-number of segments, breathing-pores, etc.
In all cases describe and figure what you see; do not be particular
about giving the technical names of parts; these will come with
practice. Papers corrected will be returned to those inclosing the
necessary postage.





FRANK W. TRAPHAGEN, Ph. D., of Staunton, Va., kindly adds his
name to the list of chemists willing to aid any of the A. A. in their
study of chemistry.

MR. HARRY E. DORE, of 128 Hall street, Portland, Oregon, renews
his offer of assistance in conchology, and offers to the chapter send-
ing him thelargest number of species most accurately named, before
October i, a box containing fifty species (from 3 to 5 of each) of
West Coast shells, all properly classified and ready for the cabinet.
Mr. Dore can not promise to make a return to all unsuccessful candi-
dates, but where any shells are received in a condition sufficiently good
to warrant a return, he will render an equivalent.


168. Peaches. I have observed that the down on later peaches is
heavier than that on the earlier varieties. I thinkit is to protect them
from the frost.--Miss Tina E. Nash.
169 Fishes in rapids. In the Niagara River, above Lewiston,
where the current is so strong that a rock at the least a foot in diam-
eter was whirled along like a pebble, and where the water runs at the
rate of nine miles an hour, I found fishes swimming.-Frank 0.
170. Late flowers. In November, 1884, I found in one little grove
six varieties of plants in blossom: witch-hazel, violet, aster, dandelion,
yarrow, and rudbeckia.-E. G. Freeman.
171, A shrewd wren. I found on Strawberry Island, Niagara
River, a marsh-wren, which had cunningly built two nests, one as a
decoy. The latter, situated about fifty yards from the true nest, was
made of grass. When the wren saw us, she rose from her nest, and
flew over and around the decoy, to deceive us, and draw our atten-
tion from her real home.- E. A. S.
[T/his note illustrates the danger of abandoning fact for theory.
The facts seem to be that a wren was seen to flyfronm her nest over
andaround another one. Thereistnothingstrange in this. That she
built the other one is not clear. That her motive was deception, is
wholly theoretical.]
X72. Diatoms. I noticed the rapid increase of diatoms. I had abot-
tle of water, in which-I could find perhaps one diatom in each drop,
under the glass. A short time after, they had increased to such an
extent that I could find fifteen in a drop, and many different shapes.
-T. E. Schlegel.
173. A voracious crow. I shot eleven blackbirds, cut off their
heads, and threw their bodies into the cage of a tame crow. Next
morning, incredible as it may seem, I found that the bird had eaten
them all. Nothing but feathers remained.-E. L. D.
[Here again the chain of evidence is not complete. Rats or cats
may have intervened. A jury would hardly hang the crow on the
sole evidence of the feathers.]
174. Bluebirds in winter. At Bristol, Pa., bluebirds can be seen
almost any bright day in midwinter. I have repeatedly seen them
in December and January, clinging to the vines that overhang our
library windows. In Pennsylvania the bluebird is not migratory.-
Joseph de Benneville Abbott.
[Let us hear the observations ofothers during the next winter.]
175. A battle of ants. I witnessed a battle between two tribes of
ants. The battle-ground was a cleared space, about a foot square.
The contestants were large black and small red ants. The smaller ants
were victorious, as the larger ones retreated in disorder. The field
was strewn with dead and dying.-Fred. V. Corregan, Oswego,
N. Y.
176. A pickerel captures a frog. I picked up a small frog and
pitched itinto the water to see it swim. Itsuddenlydisappeared with
a great splash. When the water became smooth, there at the bot-
tom of the creek lay a pickerel with the frog in its mouth.-F. V. C.
177. Woodpeckers eat ants. I shot a Picus pileatus, and found
nearly half a pound of great oak-ants (Formica quercina) in its crop.
Ernest L. Stephan.
178. A brighl-eyed cat. December 6, 1884, I saw a pure white cat,
whose right eye was a bright yellowish green, and whose left eye
was bright blue.-Willie Sheraton, Wycliffe College, Toronto.
179. Hefatica. I have noticed in three flowers, a stamen bent
over until its anther touched one of the stigmas. Is this the way the
pollen reaches the ovary, or was it an accident?--Mary H. Tatnall.


823, Farmdale, Ky. We have a flourishing Chapter of 18 mem-
bers. We have made our hall into a reading-room, and we go there

and read the magazines and papers, and sometimes hold debates
between the regular meetings.-Sam. H. Owen, Sec.
813, Watupaca, Wis. One very curious thing we have found is
a piece of pottery, from a Wisconsin mound, which indicates the
marks of the lathe. As this is uncommon, it seems as if it were
worth the attention of members of the A. A. having pottery in their
collection.- Richard M. Gibson, Sec.
366, Webster Groves, Mo. Our Chapter still lives. We have
seen here an instance where knowledge first awakened by the A. A.
has developed into an enterprise of practical and financial value.
742, Jefferson, 0. We take tramps along the creek after alger
for the microscope, or fishes for our aquarium, and have lots of fun
besides. We found a little pool in which were'countless millions
of Volvox globator. If any Chapter can tell us of a medium for
mounting algee, and other delicate vegetable tissue, that will not
cause the cell-tissues to contract, we shall be happy.-A. E. Warren,
687, Adrian, Mich. We have our rooms with the Adrian Scien-
tific Society, and have good collections. Among our books is Lan-
gille's Birds and their Haunts, which we think is the best. Dr.
Griffith, of Palmyra, Mich., has given us a very rare collection of
entomological specimens.-Geo. W. Tripp.
817, Philadelphia (F). We have n't a member who is not an
enthusiast. At each meeting a paper is read by one member, and
questions are distributed, to be answered.at the next meeting.-W.
P. Cresson, Jr.
700, Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. We began with 8, and now have r6,
and two more will soon join, when our number will be completed, as
we are limited to x8 until we can secure larger rooms. We should
like to correspond with any Chapter that can give us any hints re-
garding the improvement of our Chapter.-Ollie Cole.
555, Olympia, Washington T'y. We now have a room of our
own. It is a house that we have built with the help of our many
friends. We hope to improve it as we are able. We all are little
boys but one, and he works with us just like any other boy. Our
library has grown so that we have many valuable books. We have
about 200 plants, all named, and many other specimens. We are to
have monthly public meetings and lectures. We have printed our
own tickets, and one of our honorary members has printed and illus-
trated our posters. He did it all with a pen, but he put in the most
beautiful butterflies and birds. We are now about a year old, and
feel just ready to begin work. We have raised and expended about
$1oo, and we thank you for suggesting to us so good a way of
spending our money and our time.-Robert L. Blankenship.
261, Boston, Mass. We are taking up a new course of study
which promises to be very useful and exceedingly interesting. As
we live in the city, we think we can do most by taking a regular
course of geology from text-books, aided by what specimens we can
obtain. We have purchased the book called The Foundation of
the Earth, by Agnes Giberne, and have chapters read aloud at our
meetings. We also purchased Prof. Shaler's new book, First
Lessons in Geology. This is very clear and easy to understand.-
Ruth A. Odiome.
776, Oakland, Cal. We are progressing very well. A member
assigns a subject at each meeting. It is then the duty of each mem-
ber to study on that subject and find out all he or she can about it.
Such subjects as "Grasses," Clovers," Barks," "Bees," etc.,
have been assigned. We have collected several specimens for our
cabinet. The meetings are held every Thursday night. We now
number six. Some of the members are very active. We intend to
take up, in connection with our meetings, the study of Silk-worms,
their culture, etc."-S. R. Wood, Sec.


No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
853 Fort Bliss (A) ............ 6..Walter F. Drum,
El Paso, Texas.
854 Riverside, Ill. (A).........45..Albert L. Murray, Cook Co.
855 Berkley, Cal. (A) ........ 2.. Miss Gertrude Wheeler.
856 Brock, Nebraska (A) ... 2.. Miss Mary Aldrich.
857 St. Stephen, N. B. (A) ....21..Miss Todd, Box 30.
858 Yonkers, N. Y. (A)..... 5..Arthur E. Hyde,
Nepperhan Avenue.
859 Little Rock, Ark. (A) ..... 4..Ashley Cockrill, 9rr Scott St.
86o Peru, Florida (A) ......... 4..S. B. Mays, Hillsboro Co.
86r Turlington, Neb. (A) ..... 4..T. W. Harvey, Otoe Co.
862 New York, N. Y. (W) ....12..Miss Lillie March,
122 E. o5th Street.
863 Providence, R. I. (E) ..... 6.. F. P. Gorham, X03 Knight St.
864 Littleton, N. H. (A)....... 8.. Miss N. I. Sanger.
865 Detroit, Mich. (H)........ 6..Mrs. Richard Macauley,
61 Edmund P1.
866 Cleveland, O. (C) ......... 8..Ch. H. Lewis, 902 Fairmount
867 Fulton, N. Y. (B)......... i..W. R. Wright, Box 564.
868 Columbia, S. C. (B)....... 9..A. G. La Motte.

592 New York (P) ............... Chas. Elsberg.
732 Brookline, Mass. ............. Miss Elsie Mills.



A buffalo's tooth, for a second-hand Tenney's Zodlogy.-Jessie
Sharpnack, St. Thomas, Dakota.
Butterflies, for shells and sea-mosses.--E. M. La Motte, Glen
Ellen, Sonoma Co., Cal.
Lefldoftera and birds' eggs (one hole), for same.-Chas. A.
Wiley, Detroit, Mich.
Rocky Mountain minerals and curiosities.- Ernest L. Roberts,
Sec. Chap. 262, 414 Larimer St., Denver, Colorado.
Correspondence with view to exchange.-Henry A. Stewart,
Gettysburg, Pa.
Agates from Lake Superior and other minerals, for insects.- C. F.
McLean, 3120 Calumet Av., Chicago.
Gray's Botany (in good order), for a stamp-album.- Sioux K.
Grigsby, Box 455, Sioux Falls, Dakota.
Homed toads, Texas eggs, Mexican resurrection-plants, etc.-
E. G. Murphy, 413 St. Mary's St., San Antonio, Texas.

Minerals, fossils, and birds' eggs.- Harry Casebolt, Box 233,
Wyandotte, Kansas.
Eggs, insects, and fine fossils, for same.- Harry M. Minn, 2zi N.
x3th St., Richmond, Va.


Chapter 527, Harry Rhine, 612 Van Ness Av., San Francisco.
S798, L. D. Smith, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
S82, Thomas Fay, 8 No. Grove St., Boston.
Hereafter, mere requests for correspondence will not be noticed
in our exchange list, for all Chapters are supposed to be glad to cor-
respond with one another.
Address all communications for this department to
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


THIs differs from the ordinary nu-
merical enigma, in that the words
forming it are pictured instead of de-
scribed. The answer, consisting
of thirty letters, forms a proverb.

MY Primals name a col-
lection of books, and my
finals name the author
(born August xs, 1771) ,
and his title.
CROSS-WORDS (ofequal .24 -s
length): i. Flies. 2. A
legal term used when a
pnsoner can prove his
absence from the place
where a crime is com-
mitted. 3. Mist. 4. To
settle an income upon. 5.
A botanical term meaning
a kind of dry fruit, consist-
ing of three or more cells, -
each of which, from its own -r- 7 /o
elasticity, bursts from the axis
into two valves. 6. Even. 7. A
manifesto. 8. A mountain-peak and
two rivers of Hayti. 9. Not at any
time. ao. Solemn affirmations. Kelp,
or incinerated sea-weed. 12. The muse who presided
over lyric poetry. 13. Boundary. 14. Diversion.


Behead anger, and leave early. 5. Behead
to cook upon a gridiron, and leave to
render turbid. 6. Behead a river of
Europe, and leave a stone for sharp-
ening instruments. 7, Behead
fanciful, and leave a portion.
8, Behead to train in the mil-
itary art, and leave a brook.
9. Behead a familiar sub-
stance, and leave a girl.
an. Behead an occurrence,
and leave an opening.

I. I. In nectarine.
2. Divided. 3. Rem-
edied. 4. A portibre.
---- To annoy. 6. To
perish. 7. In nectarine.
.. II. x. In reprimand.
2. A small, sharp report.
3- Part of a door. 4. An
S iron-clad war-vessel having
a revolving turret. 5. Small.
--7-i 6. A separate'part. 7: In

I. The surname of a poet. 2. Junction. 3. To
DYCIE. cleanse by washing. 4. A nozzle. 5. To scoff.
II. i. A brittle, transparent substance. 2. Airy. 3. To coin-
cide. 4. Straight up and down. 5. Severe.


........ .. 4

HALF-SQUARE. Across: i. Knotted. 2. Disclosed to view.
3. A county in England. 4. Soon. 5. A number. 6. A boy's 5 6
nickname. 7. In deed.
INCLUDED DIAMOND. I. In deed. 2. To write. 3. A county in
England. 4. A prefix meaning "not" 5. In dent.

BEHEADINGS. FROM I to 2, to fall by succession; from 2 to 6, bears; from 5 to
6, novelty; from I to 5, style of language; from 3 to 4, to amend;
THE beheaded letters, read in the order here given, will spell the from 4 to 8, more youthful; from 7 to 8, to authorize; from 3 to 7, to
surname of a popular author. perform a revolution; from x to 3, an animal; from 2 to 4, a small
i. Behead to revile, and leave a female relative. 2. Behead a wan- whirlpool; from 6 to 8,. to.fly; from 5 to 7, appellation.
derer, and leave above. 3. Behead a fruit, and leave to subsist. 4. MARY B. B.




1 4

4 *

FROM I to 2, to face; from 2 to 3, rows; from 4 to 5, animals re-
sembling frogs; from 5 to 6, a seat; from I to 3, boundaries; from
4 to 6, a sort of mushroom.
CRosS-WORDS: I. A roof timber of a building. 2. A metal from
which colored preparations are made. 3. Mournful sounds. 4.
Ingenuous. 5. Beginning. 6. A sea demi-god. 7. Ancient Greek
theaters. 8. Very brave. 9. Led into error. ANN O'TATOR."


My centrals, reading downward, spell what, according to one lit-
tle girl's theory, makes the ocean salt.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Roosts. 2. To verify. 3. A lyric poem. 4.
In satisfy. 5. A young animal of a certain kind. 6. A substance
useful to violinists. 7. Very often seen on fine beaches.

A word of seven letters.



A word of tenletters.

I AM composed of eighty-two letters, and embody, in a quotation
from Shakespeare, the same idea that is conveyed in the following
quotation from Seneca:
"Qui sibi amicus est, scito hunc amicum omnibus esse."
My 35-21-67-12 is to decrease. My 68-48-6-74-50-17-53 is un-
der. My 8o-66-36-23-31-9 is a tract of low or level grass land.
My 26-42-73-60 is fog. My 37-4-69-81-30 is a bundle of the
stalks of grain, bound together. My 25-16-58-63 is the dwelling of

the Bedaween Arab. My 14-24-15 is a falsehood. My 70-34-33-
13-79 is foolishness. My 44-20-5-82-76-55-11 is very wicked. My
27-22-65-77-10-49 is to loose from the hand. My 28-45-8-41-51 is
very hard. My 43-72-19-64-1-54-78 is a gormandizer. My 59-3-
71-32-40 is not fresh. My 39-2-46-38-7-61-75-62-52 is one of a
certain savage and degraded tribe of South Africa. My 56-47-57-
8-29 is a map. "CORNELIA BLIMBER."

ARRANGE the names of the four objects in the above illustration
so that they will form a word-square.

MY first you 'll find in "hunting," my second in a "bear,"
My third and fourth, you 'lI find them both in "polo," I declare.
My fifth you 'll see in "telescope," my sixth is in your "eye,"
My seventh is in "hexagon," my eighth in "nullify."
My whole, a famous general, whose name I must decline
To tell you. He was born in August, seventeen-sixty-nine.


DIAMONDS. I. L. 2. Rim. 3. Robes. 4. Liberty. 5. NUMERICAL ENIGMA. I was born an American, I live an Amer-
Merry. 6. Sty. j. Y. II. i. F. 2. Cry. 3. Creel. 4. Free- ican, I shall die an American." Webster.
dom. 5. Yeddo. 6. Loo~.7 M. REBUS ON LIBERTY. "Liberty and Union, now and forever,
NOVEL CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Independence. one and inseparable." Webster (Daniel). Born at Salisbury; died
REBUS. Diligence is the mother of good luck. at Marshfield.
BEHEADINGS AND CURTAILINGS. I. O-vat-e. 2. R-ever-e. 3 WORD-SQUARE. i. Spare. 2. Parer. 3. Arena. 4. Rends. 5.
H-our-i. 4. F-row-n. 5. U-plan-d. 6. F-ran-c. 7. T-ram-p. 8. Erase.
J-an-e. 9. O-ratio-n. 1o. L-air-d. ii. Y-ear-n. 12. U-sag-e. DOUBLE DIAGONALS. From to 5, landscape; from 2 to 4, sand-
Beheaded letters, transposed, Fourth of July; curtailed letters, stone. Cross-words: x. Luxurious. 2. Panoramas. 3. Con-
transposed, Independence. demned. 4. Candidate. 5. Deposited. 6. Particles. 7. Propos-
REVERSIBLE DIAGONAL. Cross-words: i. Lee. 2. Eel. 3. als. 8. Incorrupt. 9. Embrasure.
Sap. 4. Net. 5. Rub. DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Veni, vidi, vici; finals, Great
BEHEADINGS. Ulysses S. Grant. Cross-words: i. U-nit. 2. Britain. Cross-words: x. VicksburG. 2. EcuadoR. 3. NilE. 4.
L-ace. 3. Y-ear. 4. S-pry. 5. S-end. 6. E-spy. 7. S-ell. 8. IschiA. 5. VermonT. 6. IrghendaB. 7. DoveR. 8. Illiman.
S-ail. 9. G-ear. io. R-ant. ir. A-bet. x2. N-ice. x3. T-old. 9. VechT. so. IowA. n. CagliarI. 12. IspahaN.

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 St., New-York City.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAYNUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the JULY number, from "Snipe," England, 3.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 20, from "J."-Paul Reese -George Whist-
ler- Sadie and Bessie Rhodes- No name, Wilkesbarre- Carey E. Melville--" Norcross Court, Lynn "- Pearl Francis Stevens -
"Hill-top "-Willie Serrell and friends Maggie and May Turrill-" CEdipus "- M. Margaret and E. Muriel Grundy -" Phil O. Sophy"-
San Anselmo Valley-Judith- Fanny R. Jackson-S. M. and Co.- Lily and Lou, 8-" Betsy Trotwood "-" The Carters."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 20, from A. and B., I -Annie W. North, I- L. W. M.
and B. G., 2 -" Epaminondas," I A. G. S., r-- G. U. Denton, 2- May Neuberger, r Bayard Sweeney, i Edward and Jerome,
4- Fay B. Miner, i-"Meta Physics," I-Anna L. Rauson, 4- S. E. S., 3-Edith Maud Benedict, --Effie K. Talboys, 6- Min-
nie G. and Newitt N., Mary M. McLean, Henry P. Cofran, r- "Locust Dale Folks," 6-T. A. and M. A., i --Venice James,
2- Bessie B. Adam, i Lillian M. Sprecher, i Sara and Zara," 8 -W. R. M., 3-" D. S. C.," 2- Kenneth B. Emerson, 8-
"Pepper and Maria," 8--Alice V. Westwood, 8--Lillie E. Parmenter, 8-A. L. W. and M. E. W., 9--Fancy Fan, 2--Adele
Neuburger, i-" Mammozette," 2-Reggie and Nellie, 8- Mary E. Yeager, 5- Sallie Viles, 5-Hattie and Ida Gibson, 6-"Jimmy
Shoestrings," -" Brownie," 2-Nellie B. Ripley, 2- Ella and Helen, 9-Jennie A. H., 5-Hallie Conch, 7--"Arthur Pendennis,".
7-" Clive Newcorie," 7-R. H., Papa and Mamma, 5-"Two Cousins," 7-Jos. B. Sheffield, 4-" Huckleberry," 4-Hugh and
Cis, 9-Francis W. Islip, 9-Eleanor Peart and J. Spiller, 5 May and Katie, 2-"By B.Y.," 8.






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