Front Cover
 Little Lord Fauntleroy
 A November evening
 Halloween (picture) - The magic...
 Barty's turkey
 The moon and its "shine"
 The candy country
 Who'll buy?
 Giant turtles
 From Bach to Wagner
 A bright idea
 Uncle and aunt
 Wood-notes from a cage
 Playing school (picture)
 Personally conducted
 "Our Joe"
 To a squirrel
 Among the law-makers
 Two middies at Ephesus
 Fire! Fire!
 Home-made Christmas gifts
 The Brownies and the bicycles
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association: Fifty-fifth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


xml version 1.0 encoding UTF-8 standalone no
fcla fda yes
!-- St. Nicholas. ( Serial ) --
METS:mets OBJID UF00065513_00164
xmlns:METS http:www.loc.govMETS
xmlns:mods http:www.loc.govmodsv3
xmlns:ufdc http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2
xmlns:xlink http:www.w3.org1999xlink
xmlns:xsi http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance
xmlns:daitss http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss
http:www.loc.govMETS http:www.loc.govstandardsmetsmets.xsd
http:www.loc.govmodsv3 http:www.loc.govmodsv3mods-3-3.xsd http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitssdaitss.xsd http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2 http:www.uflib.ufl.edudigitalmetadataufdc2ufdc2.xsd
METS:metsHdr CREATEDATE 2009-07-28T08:59:23Z ID LASTMODDATE 2007-05-04T16:52:21Z RECORDSTATUS NEW
METS:name UF
Go UFDC FDA Preparation Tool
METS:dmdSec DMD1
METS:mdWrap MDTYPE MODS MIMETYPE textxml LABEL Metadata Object Description Schema
mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
"A monthly magazine for boys and girls."
Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued November 1885
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00164
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 13
mods:number 13
No. 1
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas.
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
OTHERMDTYPE UFDC University of Florida Digital Collections
ufdc:Collection.Primary JUV
ufdc:SubCollection NICK
ufdc:MainThumbnail 00001thm.jpg
ufdc:BibID UF00065513
ufdc:VID 00164
ufdc:Name Scribner,
ufdc:statement UF University of Florida
ufdc:Type Serial
ufdc:SerialHierarchy level 1 order 13 Vol. 13
2 No. 1
METS:file GROUPID G1 J1 imagejpeg CHECKSUM 22df92ab190b6e3bee1e03751b61419e CHECKSUMTYPE MD5 SIZE 502513
G2 J2 822d4e7ec735571b39b63cd2af989c72 133223
G3 J3 44a6db7e729076e17bee20f30bbecf00 262439
G4 J4 ffb8d94ec44ce6a60aa1c92a24a5c088 240460
G5 J5 c954ae8b26bba802e58f95ae6b2d13a6 385674
G6 J6 b7f71a86192b9a881e0a17ba47ff97b7 358440
G7 J7 1d37d6c7313a2d985bdf5eec7e902876 359186
G8 J8 dfe90ee181edb9cb437e3e049548c3fc 248082
G9 J9 b55236cf13e0b786ad99743e62ddf0cf 289806
G10 J10 4c3aee2121c218e1b27ce7f62a92c510 331680
G11 J11 92cf47adb20c628d9a0607e8d848efb0 327040
G12 J12 224619149803c4de1a77de3f54a1bf45 287858
G13 J13 520499d17dce9f594f40ff96cae2d5e1 319354
G14 J14 4edfa8b554b5cd44c910d65720fe5153 312567
G15 J15 ff1b05da203db70cfbb9c7ca9f9a0485 363731
G16 J16 30bae4faf812df30e507ba463ea70c15 306616
G17 J17 3c42fff0d264ee0855d9390d796fd043 283203
G18 J18 b217934a0b5161e9ed24bb51cff93ecc 246718
G19 J19 97ea531dd810b2c163a28458a6141180 340882
G20 J20 89806fc2533b9dd19ec534b8c6fa1bdd 334675
G21 J21 ef7462628b8c0988ca7d0c434bc4265b 331870
G22 J22 56b34bcd0ff65098e6b9a86f99715757 314437
G23 J23 f039c2e580c76a9a68c6298032dace0c 326024
G24 J24 2ab0ae0a6e0d7f5d957a25b983e6589c 217705
G25 J25 f6cf911a709b12a427bea07379dd510f 326284
G26 J26 e5a94df1774df38021327c8ee1c6308c 346224
G27 J27 db483eb73098c74f82e62b7f72dadffb 340668
G28 J28 c92f315cc9e1aa4a8372f1db6ef08e6a 320584
G29 J29 0e39c3bc6c9f8664ad8815a26b083e6b 330208
G30 J30 dc835186775d50fc00089633509828bf 251541
G31 J31 a7525cb0ca41dd51e89b19dfa187c674 289968
G32 J32 fa2a7fa1c66f14676d9940c4469ffdbb 284334
G33 J33 b0a52c8631e463c202179723c95e03f6 330476
G34 J34 1d3a55b4216f097782c1584851c75ba0 267855
G35 J35 80f119080e510cd4dd51fbce28b49ebd 356181
G36 J36 978cb4a3200dae83f01482ab7618cf3d 356084
G37 J37 921c880cbd7b3339af478b97a11379c7 231797
G38 J38 4a89d0ce4580773f22c50d5b96f4dec2 249153
G39 J39 acf18b9286b235e6653828a3c8977177 337894
G40 J40 62739ac1a328aa4bf20f768a565e2662 362347
G41 J41 01c8e825266ab528058223a324d49b12 309556
G42 J42 c5448d7ae78610513e489154615adf09 333830
G43 J43 db4882133a7f636775bf912e4a76ad69 376144
G44 J44 4bc590725059499c5a093ea5b8a3ec95 357408
G45 J45 4ae1238790c5474deb13d35c611e8df4 292709
G46 J46 8226a16f35ea3753f77d02788362f84c 329362
G47 J47 29d7c9e93927bf9d2e918c330243c557 324707
G48 J48 784d00eb4dd5826c587e4b8827dec73b 262756
G49 J49 3a484ff77f7d7503965f8ee4392e0560 287421
G50 J50 231228972addf4409abee545fe204571 338909
G51 J51 e0cf4bd36fe47dcdaf07b1c46ba1daec 341463
G52 J52 259fb2f68d17c6d85493000cbbce746b 317252
G53 J53 4cbdb53b19ec9efb3a22d7770a0a3951 258532
G54 J54 ae5b341e00a67c20fcfe5f2447310fbb 228531
G55 J55 068e1cf71b334609288c27f0a0683dca 321036
G56 J56 053825e83e5f5f89273eda03dc870528 259319
G57 J57 8698d2bdb857e59afd8976f02e141888 349104
G58 J58 d8feb2e68ecb9a4fdf556ec44e77e5e5 357965
G59 J59 aaaab9ea94108ff73825712b7175faae 361118
G60 J60 5d007a0269baa469f95a2dc09260a5e9 316877
G61 J61 e1a89e155de8f6be407f1cce30dc2ac0 318387
G62 J62 05784479d601d78617ca98e80960bac8 286165
G63 J63 8d959a20042b49be21e81324be28101b 340902
G64 J64 889f7e5d0f8402b981c720f7fe9fffb8 330149
G65 J65 3b1f99918b2d48c85a7f9cfa3e105d20 347390
G66 J66 bde1eb2aef294824596edb05fca32c67 320697
G67 J67 70accecbe75ee86b04f91ad373235830 281114
G68 J68 43533927a73060d44add86b4361a0e7f 284424
G69 J69 4506d001351f3e294242f19568aaf984 262331
G70 J70 73a409070d53d649e82bbb12fee18bcd 287720
G71 J71 25e52005673fb1957720839eb86f0ba8 324268
G72 J72 4de27535dc8038c54f2e231e37d7bac6 311653
G73 J73 f4630714f1790fddd0ea73b371baa836 355522
G74 J74 c2e58a7445bcf9b4e8e5b724cec2b55c 324155
G75 J75 5213d57c569c61c2e7547a78b9a8effd 310505
G76 J76 d7619b3ac2cd1100741de31ea4b332f9 341397
G77 J77 c3362d4330142965aa6545088a4ab060 312344
G78 J78 cd0d2811e660af88c19c700b9a658c6a 338523
G79 J79 9900695f1ca762520075c6c1e4501c08 289234
G80 J80 94d1c034306c2e287003b129569021f3 273057
G81 J81 562d25276c7f729cf0a54b4a0e7d80d7 230453
G83 J83 daf01123565133d6db593e1dc526c71e 188171
G84 J84 bb8025f91bfea54046edbd401930e29c 333696
G85 J85 a066afd53434be0e83e28da89e1de3c7 151550
E1 imagejp2 fbbb27f1273575ff8ac5e67511ba0648 761427
E2 c8879866387df00aa1e8070c74e877a0 788955
E3 91d489e9908a2b146a46fdc73a9a36c0 691802
E4 ecf8cb7b5b60239277d60386eeafae99 650105
E5 641fee6cef41233e4a21dfbbbc26f28f 650447
E6 2fa4b0b7f5b07fd24a7c44d8bca7bf60 650046
E7 10319e5826f2b3690d1afd8b8fec5c86
E8 50964c9df43e0e981754adddf23a822e 650019
E9 12a8161175ebca3d2ce7ecbc5da457cd 650147
E10 b2ce07b9fad50f60c59f79b19b0e853e 650032
E11 e84ee11e198eaf8c58da9de6e71c26e6 650381
E12 75e249cc43182ea863405878c0b32ee8 650103
E13 8a74cb1ab1bd1c3c783c9d251ac8c492 650068
E14 b3c71d4a3adbe32ef202a08c837f5fc2 650086
E15 63e56a0f0ee994087e41c775febea480 650376
E16 05070f1ebf41f6e05da2301d6f8f26c7 650070
E17 921144687e684c095f93711991610ec5 650089
E18 783b4c09a10f7e917b4e5b4c7d370ae0 650101
E19 9430d637ea275ec8d55b76a4cee93425 650430
E20 25e56afd96645c9612260ad2583e89e5 650100
E21 52d452abd60d3e9668a5132f55672878 650390
E22 c4cef0a2ce6e5455f652378922e11e7c 650064
E23 5bd3225d74108aefae51751d84f6a4c2 650451
E24 7d2d62b052276f1073fe56b01cee57c6
E25 03e3e76e35275b6fa0b10d8743b02f8e 650439
E26 e36f1d62e19b8262a4df4f3c5e0c1c7d
E27 fbf93e500dfbad0028a17841dc4fc5f8 650443
E28 6468ce29dd9c4c87aa50ae8142a27436 650091
E29 4fc6fff6e34e6e0a51176b1e830db62d 650076
E30 25c45c87462f51c57254124a6db48502 650085
E31 07240fe9e1a381b5916b324897c7c259 641610
E32 6ee234840398f0af40a45c9c33fa2170 650027
E33 e0297c38d568aed223c92a0e9c703540 650401
E34 db82e43e578703e935d2182c494862f8 677385
E35 ef73b69336b629b2a0da401fb50da4b2 650445
E36 8a739142c95a5d8aeeb79a7b0b547103 650058
E37 8acf1f3e4f46a6cd330b8c88d3af3e2e 643023
E38 b7035fc952dee9a5ff13f41431452dae 650079
E39 ac6be5373545d91bbc880c484db73eae 640147
E40 3bde6bf4046918476dde4a8ce7417404 649996
E41 eced9033ebd82984150680e26985d7be
E42 a8595fe3d48dbc6a2f6e63e2f7e7983e 650341
E43 e119ea92bc48d12bee5d2746fb16f7e3 650092
E44 b7fe73804b526460f15811d06faa62ae
E45 21e6ac1370d6e88a662103b7da80adb9
E46 3bc843caf2493ab1bd7abb51517eecd4 650072
E47 03e56031d7c5808a2fd18c5906c440b3 650037
E48 22765196f03e0709b2c7f6ffa09cdc31 650452
E49 433fa1de4d0bc9b61bba59665577a551 648973
E50 d4e462474657bab71cfa2526d74fd402
E51 20487350a1fffe696d49849e0528be22 642981
E52 25bca949da5e1f24fe8f96cbfb5ff6ef 650009
E53 3bc7f1b4cebf8f9bc754fe294f0e0e1d 650448
E54 a1b55f7b9cef4d06ad20cef362dd7d8e 650095
E55 f0959adb4a3f48e6cd80a62ad7ba375d 650371
E56 d1f309baa8a3122080a5b8945e8975f6 650087
E57 230c482a5076a86b8b84db2f87e54f14 646199
E58 edb725028b56497717730a3b25904b24
E59 a4e8c6ce3219ef5a01bf2f65296ab96b 646186
E60 80927c5f1a21cef092b3a69ee736bf21 650016
E61 07c05c2261f14f2062290f9b790e5c2c
E62 97552a7daa802b71ab91f095d1ad9f72 650393
E63 ff4cb585b40d91b755bd35be4607ec82
E64 4355f650b2a2d8d775cb6f7d7170c56a 650429
E65 2106076ae69f808db819ce7d6a43fa8b 650431
E66 f22c713f7ad0418afdebbebca1d49a4c 650422
E67 1f767bbb813b73e60d664268e0c140ff 650056
E68 baf74a8ff521abcb80d74c522b8e719f 650450
E69 c24bca380b033c8a3236071fbe5653f8
E70 64087024836120ca0ca1ea37aedf40f2 650106
E71 1220a4756521f9276001df860467135d 650364
E72 43a5b90ce509dfe87b9b6ef24e368537 642914
E73 3bcdc696cc6defca1f7119245935732d 650449
E74 fc8d2be336cb05199ee3a657bd166f7b 650099
E75 7d3892d71efd1a7c57056ccb024bf509 650288
E76 7c069557ea233a0418622d88959aab10 650020
E77 eee6a3e5988a35c07665b39b060303c1
E78 90064c4c7900df9c288b577d2dbd6cbd 649911
E79 2ac368bf1f628ceda1f206f4de9719cc
E80 bbf2f11dc3d0aa88bb3de53df31efe83 650410
E81 ffa72ba82b60a5882daab3f6760ee817 650444
E83 3724fc2cb5f8842c78697d05bfc1b4d5 767405
E84 a82877e48fc7c045edd58b2fdfea6bf9 780601
E85 c2fa6acf55679688a154eb9c13a3f129 163530
F1 imagetiff 6.0 fb9b9da8b8d5500e3d9844e7111e938b 18296132
F2 0c309f0cf0863dfe067e5c5840051424 18953108
F3 04887cbda8a58744849c534c6bd36e14 5556928
F4 1f4753fd5c11a65ac94cf4a868d7dc97 5222376
F5 3cc2695357a4ea0f8087ebabe1bf129e 5227052
F6 6c3bbdd087675a0aeb1d738369d20950 5223772
F7 5579c99787a0d5da2e8471570d211533 5226552
F8 9b7c561ff8e7c0c2a9237cc47bc3b83b 5222464
F9 5fb753d4c230f94aedcd1755d618604b 5225324
F10 4736db677f25a6fe92e7ed517d6dbd5a 5223652
F11 899d83b36d544fd446f1e50e5c33cb67 5226396
F12 8b0bcc87bfd1dfda330af75a44be8cb4 5222800
F13 85ed173dfd373e199a57b062b2438c16 5223032
F14 09f399f703d9f9de8d9ea8545efefa83 5223160
F15 17e49f9410c74f1546076d0607cbcf69 5226684
F16 cf85fa3a8fc83d9b42bf2f45cb020dc4 5223212
F17 01f08dd8a7f8490403d2175ccc6a3952 5223128
F18 00d716bff48b01d2317af7e6afa7fd27 5222716
F19 1f6d5a760d217cd35726813bb55ea761 5226564
F20 32e5e76c556b06697ad950240e170c37 5223512
F21 27c10e5d1abf25e656a1b1c8aafd5718 5226668
F22 66a66e3260559425d63cb18932d6b440 5223616
F23 dab071e8dafd691b15aac380b2655bb2 5226352
F24 e5bba264592e1a51c39b3c07e4bf4620 5221716
F25 cfcac09a0fdc928937fea8915c4e7c94 5225924
F26 e30b619bd70512fa0c20fbfa316118e1 5224028
F27 c84cc844fc158a6bdbbd85f4055088c8 5226388
F28 d71758e2708b90e39bbb60b4729c8df0 5223492
F29 3fc6fc4c1db67ad7a1a3e3a870d15dcf 5223440
F30 2304fd277af7908101d2f4e56b1ea1e2 5223180
F31 ec65cf71f62c55868fb83027a3fc3a58 5154980
F32 4f2a1f8905ba9f0b29f77c40e0b8cdf3 5222580
F33 ea07cf7f9b76ee174ffed01c4138c031 5226372
F34 ab6cf0b6294f51521e3642856ae78928 5441204
F35 22e442661972875a48ec0f17a1e1a409 5226612
F36 464a21d11820249c0a38f0c899daa083 5223676
F37 acbfb335c45483bdb6fba3ce7a26781e 5165064
F38 8f332a24018ccd7a82cb138bcecd93be 5222584
F39 2efa861e501809bb7be2a84f65cd5e40 5144224
F40 76ab80a41c595ec2ab03e5dad3e4fbfd 5223612
F41 a1913bda08a032d058d8e45415699802 5223428
F42 5141c9549c164bc6444e815b92993d21
F43 dd09885a28902f4b0226bf2716ded62d 5223736
F44 1b98e4ba93180c29fe4fbfe2e01031ba 5223484
F45 b8c9bb185b5fdd109a42cb69920f7e11 5225428
F46 fb079520440c9630c625427cfafb042f 5223316
F47 d90eaf0c30cc79902814878d6ce2d4ec 5222996
F48 7ec204c434841270e0cf8bbde502b7d4 5225820
F49 e58710b5e973bd7d482911b07b426628 5214348
F50 5eefeed41de03be2034a28804b7ba5ff 5225612
F51 9d8c7bdb45bc6d70b1126c5fe3d0267e 5166360
F52 2173e620987bf9a02bdb110bdd798dfd 5223632
F53 6caf8bb4db44e08358c2ae16cafbe27e 5224872
F54 98e02d5f891275234c64bab7babe51ec 5222068
F55 8fa46434de303c3a808d4a42c0b92428 5225700
F56 cdb340af325e68d5b16ca5e41e0c237e 5222604
F57 d3142e72103b237f93fec96c9159618f 5193020
F58 f625d92c28154206b37a5e742e3adefa
F59 2960ed3a5faec5628e430706ed9edc80 5192536
F60 d6191c791e403213ace6082ed3cb2860 5223864
F61 cf5e113507d022d61fb3413b6ff1516c 5225996
F62 c95b5316526900df9401fff74e1741f1 5226176
F63 bddbeb3189ada97137101d2e4d4fb60a 5226760
F64 4d768785134bda8574ab709715412e92 5226968
F65 0b0d2cd67d373b67d1f068e30300497d 5226896
F66 63ef07d9b25cca194c28b2fa9e92b732 5226960
F67 3d96cba5aaa081265aefe198596ec953 5223260
F68 2242533e4d95ba78d2373f72f6fc5fd7 5226240
F69 2f9603105d6501c5fff9160fdaa9a2d8 5226284
F70 5b06ce09450f98e86d0e23a1bc463646 5223340
F71 38178cba413dbb4cba24004d00f75d13 5226504
F72 9ff748c6864a804c4a6b5a4be9c98b9f 5167368
F73 cd55481ad5985379cbb3c58091619f85 5226844
F74 1ef9d2de4ada88226b831f2c1e26f54c 5223412
F75 af3164f82a90c5cca15e9fcd63bdbfcd 5225548
F76 30f1c867be188ff51119d0955863a42b 5223188
F77 1c69fe5c2b2249a255a7ad9a526a40bc 5225872
F78 abe7a6d8c3647563bc80b0bb080a2919 5223084
F79 9d1dfe0e4315d5d8eac2a66a36700994 5225868
F80 b9b753fbe0237e1a1f6ba2cd39deaa9c
F81 a749ee2fa905d1eeeca28dfac3526488 5224936
F83 aacff368b73e74aa91f43ee15df41cba 18436280
F84 29e560cf48a6f7616eb63410da3b1bd7 18753528
F85 f01d5b4a025a59aacc6f39a0831dd500 3942132
T1 textplain 971cbd34f161112f9982d0a7a7b71257 517
T3 177bf06dfe802abcef477074ab9d6ce8 254
T4 458c3ce0e71e54489ddf40a38c3ed0f6 3226
T5 1e075742bd3c7758c1371bfd9ce467e5 5659
T6 e85bb89f6300a90f1ace5948746017ef 5498
T7 0a1f67efac1b523a07f846ea0090aed9 3423
T8 4651c9cebf07c5a78a8c79a6cad91e33 3575
T9 1905f85aa49ddbf9312497e682c2dfa2 1346
T10 6c4c63ccfb119bb69bc5ece470b278d6 5153
T11 6cf8f28a76d36ca4844833d91c5086c2 2931
T12 a9a82c8753319fd9c5a72a214dee77c3 4182
T13 701bebbfbf5a25e8eb455a7a3e49097a 4611
T14 94fd571e39b761cca30468944c899d44 922
T15 cc90bbb556b89de9becd6b96c03b26c7 5268
T16 dd64171febc3ac88df5d74f63d8104a3 4747
T17 4d36e02ea0aa2191352d49c79a476b45 3598
T18 cf2edd6c70fa1f71b84c8ecf32f3208d 2700
T19 cddba522ef857f8246bc43a43d30a430 4935
T20 cb7e506b85c2a273f877ea5907942b03 5289
T21 f2f44026f0bce4790e3a401b5dafbfae 4717
T22 f82dcd387bcf3b35049614df173eed8a 4578
T23 e35776a46b49f087614ddadf9098422a 3693
T24 52aeb9a465bed6020389e8127a753f26 3101
T25 bd1834adecc4e8fff6b39c23efb16474 2028
T26 b7d8a5f4fad8d168642ba634d6c0c19b 2214
T27 d40a6ea743f2b4feb0104e1395ff8374 3192
T28 661177ad8242051070ca507ad5d3ea1b 1980
T29 bca7f1621a6d42fae2c9e667df4946a5 5126
T30 cd1181151e2a0cf83599a989d650835e 2276
T31 fe4d8bc8ec4e74ad19d7295034a7218e 4221
T32 bb9d8fa930b95f203e3c7e3ff93d3ef5 2650
T33 11e5b9364f53d3d8291d80ee2d2e7411 5409
T34 d44dc62bb3e09769f5891727f06bd54e 2300
T35 0c6bdd038b1b7fc1d320bc2bd3a6f611 5290
T36 71608701ff03a7d7904f9035c37f24a8 5489
T37 3bfa6548e0d6eab472f5a43d082513ea 2988
T38 450562d12f0e6b035eb7f7a5ad005cc2 631
T39 5cabcd8dd8529d6b9480e9e3391e45f8 4906
T40 c2ddfaf61ed208349bd67ab5251b9e99 5734
T41 01052d8e65ca494123a321beca1f7905 3094
T42 6414378e9828b23dfef6a2d1d68e3b58 2747
T43 e130886ac9ef001acc6dcc96871cf0b3 5762
T44 37bc9de82777bceae48f0172a29c9555 5632
T45 756abb5ad2a3a9a94ebfc842aabd259c 3211
T46 4dba1c2cf76c9850301675a94b1198cc 4752
T47 1cf5d3f1469a1bee839531dd219369a9 5151
T48 ca5742682bcb45c22c02858cf4a19ead 1683
T49 2fa9ac64bc4199d39bad61ac38800bda 2384
T50 ee441d47f28e3796129a3578e02d1847 2676
T51 308f9036a8c13cf5c7f9c7d18c865eb9 2246
T52 d306b804c39b6cb07886faaae5f13476 1564
T53 55bc5030b12dda9301b2458f899f1ba3 3483
T54 faea0b82cec9505f19f55c931d3ad452 2250
T55 d59e97b927508588fb00db89b5e8e9ae 4823
T56 e02d8748d17f1ca5816d05cdc3c2eb8c 964
T57 3fc675169fc808007c5084d60108998d 3258
T58 d56eafb407777746a75067634d3074db 5648
T59 5513b5b5ca86a875edbf29aaa6fc465d 5495
T60 2b60f57f15444389cfc086e62dbadead 2436
T61 fc6bcd726c2614dee5c8cf286f481a94 4535
T62 040cba016d865d9a847992f0abbf0b4e 3057
T63 f5be2fac34af38b6c74b3fbb15c6577a 4885
T64 ba9cb54874d3b6f8553d72e9463b5e63 4048
T65 f08ca29db82ee3c6ee7f0f15580fe5a4 4047
T66 719ce9cf30f0fb6334722751442b4a7e 3500
T67 965fb3dce8ece168f3908da42a531905 3385
T68 379cb570d593ad97acad91c0ff7d3239 3772
T69 998fbabb71d92341a4e4faac62bf0d7b 2753
T70 84ef1e77fb0c361d096842ac9583dcac 1508
T71 baef2b13fbe852b5ab23954fa1cd9b47 1301
T72 e4dbd7c472a5d170d990c5b0eb8eb678 857
T73 976c37ced926644ef7938ec9cc3196f8 6999
T74 b2c6281ae998cf1f0a0f7b98dd309ad7 3788
T75 c059e47670f643600163bbebb4105c8d 8263
T76 2198abf4ed7134b551b7a7970f1bcca1 7741
T77 b9ed355ea02ea8b54ac4c53ad2ef38f2 6749
T78 a74941c069b1fea190f1ff2bb402c780 10131
T79 589f9b0dd61e9cadd9abca3e3152905d
T80 9cccb12f84f2abd6b615a61ca8bf91dc 6630
T81 c15ece17e46f03eda9913bc659c3f219 151
T85 379ba6ecfb6c7d7e6b88ea8349e3147b 459
J999999 b6136e18efe219759c399fa29153a85c 49837
AR1 textx-pro 11e7b5f26c3984e312f21b773635f635 1363
AR2 56e6ef35f449694be9404502a07fd9a4 128817
AR3 92fbe5dbcbdcdc1b7a6eb4ba738caf65 34908
AR4 38117021ae77e415cacb3ef5584a1d0b 1844
AR5 d8326c1f528f3bd372d02acf82640f60 74304
AR6 c46fb82f51704e0889e3f1aaeec15e18 77365
AR7 98914ae0ed1fd7d62b1dce6756637c98 75442
AR8 5f4bd18920dca54ed056829452a17dd0 139416
AR9 ecd0926a9c0d200efa7235d707406e47 107500
AR10 ef831375ca04c5d9cb414bcaa80680e2 133870
AR11 5c30a268e1db972168172a6a1e997544 102658
AR12 11027412313f7b9dc152a42f8507a4ce 82310
AR13 0aee3ae94f3e9feca2486170d79ab799 102530
AR14 459eed3b91781e4ade331219daff137d 85213
AR15 187261f485d3d6e6268d9ca0e237e7c1 79052
AR16 efa65a02447f07b351a01c62978bf958 31657
AR17 a4796bdcdf1bddec5557174dea2fe6c9 83729
AR18 00c79c1f70af006c1d5748f9079f0d79 123067
AR19 66bdd7ce7862dc210e8771fbecd87434 99727
AR20 a742b2d29df4d2e62fe2e23db0d132af 69233
AR21 90fb1ea5806e82b215e532f712e75180 97776
AR22 8d76c918c51d39d333cc3b94239c4df4 99684
AR23 d53db2982151b71abf7878b661f10776 88381
AR24 d755b42784dba15c43f7df3015cd87cf 112338
AR25 70846b98f4ba4407f2865d6a0b2ee570 95726
AR26 5b05d619b16917905b5952a43e55798c 21200
AR27 06d2c4d2d394d978a95153fd83bca65b 89057
AR28 588e925dc9bf634efbaad9acbcefbcce 129139
AR29 f950402199c431575cc9ff25ad05df0e 105088
AR30 a4ca2bce40fcb7c7e00bdb7d79dbfdb7 111919
AR31 a9d3b62278e725fce7d8f7a9a963331d 92012
AR32 d2bfc5c3ba691ac2e65e678db37cb2e4 84321
AR33 1a6c47db245c9889519e458fa1e52d4e 85793
AR34 7b51b5e6a196d28b3a961b395d8595d6 60714
AR35 0c015fd34161d178ac1fe721d866386e 78426
AR36 72dfb887f1af5e9a3252b254d0972deb 119679
AR37 ad30a3d49bf59b1feae865f54aacbb59 99252
AR38 6fa172e566fc24a7f711772c71364b91 128803
AR39 31367b32838ba7920dacd3fa83d11245 98954
AR40 d247009fd702644e3fc0934f9ec242a1 111583
AR41 293f5d85a779a02f46c4811a45a17371 99864
AR42 4a5d590256897eb2c0d05a9249a34bf5 102890
AR43 6164a8403bf5607e5148883a541b8e03 95571
AR44 ea711b161679b632b5906016e4c17056 88164
AR45 ac22081da7a69f150295cf15407c1809 97273
AR46 1d919ae6968c3558cee19cbccd5c47d3 74058
AR47 03099d8510f432523e5cdc507e5d9832 68371
AR48 8c1e2e47d09129797f2d459e50170b7f 49888
AR49 50ccff63ebf1a3a973677a3afbc83428 91379
AR50 573a53d52eb02519aca676da840a1ce6 53097
AR51 6d0f5d4008c550bbdbaa8abe302222fc 98599
AR52 858893c8f2cf54eda5627bc873a7c612 72203
AR53 8a47e6980e7dbb8aeb75dd62ddb3fd5b 96782
AR54 ca2b961429df32f64eaa46b1d9017307 46912
AR55 2ad3848e4e83ebfbd7fd76cc50b16992 92856
AR56 7869c56156ec1b932e85ada987a5f17e 125827
AR57 32cc77a922b659801dff5d601e7b8220 97029
AR58 b31b22d3804e91f812bce92502d52442 55321
AR59 a94e80e9e6298b718d4f01c6a6ba5e80 82122
AR60 61ce82c6adae7dda12a870cb2240aa5b 102686
AR61 a81dda25562ba6a7e46e01bb66d0151b 86726
AR62 567daab18f207a46b23c07ee4dd1f4d8 62437
AR63 a713136ad62216fba59b15e4ac21fbf2 84398
AR64 bc5f469d8b7834be0d386f63b1b390cc 130554
AR65 62106b44d8c7573782734514b49134b2 99081
AR66 75b3590c02544c6c96400ee0e3a894a1 53218
AR67 f0f51a83979fc27f6150cdcfddb3e53b 80175
AR68 a3487d41a286b27665e40d94a7a95c55 129852
AR69 1d6170f6a45aefd2c1ef2f63cf21de23 103723
AR70 adc86c2bf3dcf9c69ffdc9c8ad0ac195 134297
AR71 c9157e61ad870dcd9ff7afb5405094da 102077
AR72 faf41b9023f4220ae5feef17bcc94796 69147
AR73 8de2af3dcbdcb31b3c3bd5d64b1e12c9 69665
AR74 3d4ff17b3d958384a92ce718fed57caf 14569
AR75 6928d452ba0b30b985f5e36a84af3817 75284
AR76 17a5961da7338aae6f2665399a8d0097 120449
AR77 85e8f29cb9a5a8d6278a00e9d2a81a58 96489
AR78 e18f6e95f564af92d458cbc0597d2c0e 139042
AR79 c61f6f35fd5ca2c13b5e5e496287ae83 102874
AR80 dd48398709e2bfc1e0d7fbf59e581c87 72289
AR81 951b9ef54c4c3312a20ca11ac54c5d7f 92830
AR82 a28e036980741da2af50d90d578a6b8b 66646
AR83 64ff136215cc5b8d03026b8352c5aa79 96095
AR84 652fe658f4671540242e4f6b05a2bf92 142074
AR85 b7a98b0eea59d036ea44fe1bb645e7e9 104536
AR86 0482a2c9c095c438940bae9d07ba44d3 138589
AR87 fd84c03e1c69fe9c4b90e608a37317e2 103167
AR88 d66ba4f899c5ebc478f315695114fdc2 76983
AR89 98d8532cb2e2be92098c1f5853b1545f 85179
AR90 b93dd19caf8b59886d301160f7cf5de9 114739
AR91 3e81fa589a6c3e4e22f0107af1cc4c6d 97122
AR92 bd70ee218785716987791909c5977e7b 126141
AR93 ea134828030875b337ce5fa79c77e37c 93951
AR94 f2e6bbbf889383c3ed4334b5d24bea48 37978
AR95 0ba7233c0f7cae4481143aad8c5371e7 81865
AR96 b4be11d2dfb2d4565612a36e73f5f3d6 56994
AR97 bb317d1c4b3de6997ac60928ae00ec49 87471
AR98 16d927453455eab3c2086b6a59ce99a5 64250
AR99 3cb62bd309f27ec9dcedc8d4a010c890 92154
AR100 1917dae9c0f60458b1f3a8cf504fff1d 55266
AR101 763c6b852ddcc6e9850c45a7a70ed44d 92109
AR102 33b89eb9d254ce9152e77f0eddafecee 33479
AR103 5a847d2982387843a75f3a4c09ae6d3b 92509
AR104 4f07c902126dc75d2c23aa71a1596693 83839
AR105 a841f56088a1cfc12339d921472d3515 77247
AR106 a2e5f645bd3e5213396aceaf953964d5 50881
AR107 28d11dbc7a304378c830232b3b8951c4 74032
AR108 5001bd996eb9823746984716e8532197 116374
AR109 09fac809eb915ca44a7c1f2a6bb6023e 93333
AR110 d8e05e87170e979147e3adcfbfd828ba 21705
AR111 fbcc513b900e49ac3113219f06b6433b 80684
AR112 41160b8e5c9d6152dd58fe6bfb129106 70760
AR113 1c339f8a80b35dc56b51975d5d8dc54f 100968
AR114 157d42105bf3e2bea9e08ec074eba842 138211
AR115 705e7fd0224fb17382d7fe1135de28b5 102345
AR116 af36d46adc6083c20b93c55b48789825 133196
AR117 53a5b26f13ebfd1f4431cb9cf71bb85a 103775
AR118 2ad30063dae4a6cc0c9752d5cb71cc0f 56438
AR119 c1924b7d7723bee49bd5904552c15f77 95104
AR120 989ec522ac022d38aaea118ccb28fe9a 110499
AR121 6fe1b2e229bb303306b76e795c89d1c3 92045
AR122 4c5f1607ca5222d47bba667412becd19 69800
AR123 dc043e3d4c0fe0f1a3c67d3d70a680af 88724
AR124 6841e3b24407426512aca9bb2ff93cea 94869
AR125 d026a1121ef2501ab42a0ad97569dc3f 99842
AR126 fc68507234e60ca427eb6d8f3ce93fb3 80358
AR127 6635a08bee249ba937de71845f8af76c 99657
AR128 2af0c8703bffbfaea934ac8277006f93 80879
AR129 8ed34a04b9d42ba9a2323ee03014c226 101055
AR130 646ad1a4cbd47c1c8dec0f3dea46397a 76508
AR131 9ddf0727300428ad4a31db2a34e1b229
AR132 aaf6b5509624cb9fff0fc901f7c32920 68859
AR133 87312b8e65b5dca8f01108bfe9f2e47e 88550
AR134 a551c7a56a3884ba3c8511eafc70ae04 84480
AR135 e12d277bdf69bc8346c6ce8883537114 90014
AR136 ee103feb55036cceb9b2e4e05d1050ec 55783
AR137 0ac90e0e9ce1540acac8d79a429ff67c 85117
AR138 5aae2602438bf02e5b880ae49c2a0410 33508
AR139 3f32add80e01fdce89611e158202e516 87961
AR140 15147179715876578308b4d7d49d5fdb 31670
AR141 e96cbcf43b844d5ce5606fb41d398888 95235
AR142 3349f0b0d8e4c676a8c5a0b8c567ea17 20625
AR143 fa53a0ed724d0c47ff12140a65bd8ca9 93721
AR144 367cf058b14c09e8e888c44d4afcd97a 150421
AR145 012a193ef628563b9614acad9bd16878 101574
AR146 a4e153223f30a75198607b703333546c 74161
AR147 31b9307b3bde0e81a8e7259472afe716 93903
AR148 c8cb80ca49645bc54d254f8024dea6f1 196291
AR149 e86f544c98057d05f78dd8d0fe46543f 86563
AR150 b1955caabbff76c1308dd68cc07c803e 175892
AR151 933ef9e5f49c6fb76254b7ec5c841067 96083
AR152 71c5ec09352b356f8e503d4c128c9cca 151571
AR153 6017958ef482412f48234edfc23c5a01 91754
AR154 134520742837e921bf74caa421ad73aa 237846
AR155 ea13eafb58bfe9dce16bab027e53d1f5 96993
AR156 7a9e50eee2c177e1aa9dbbd427de3113 115449
AR157 6db7f1540ac7ba152598c94e3fec178c 86477
AR158 77519635946eb94198953d99976981db 141100
AR159 de161889d9c08317d6206b4c97b59905 84588
AR160 a029d7238cb8b612203de3bd6f8a50a8 2869
AR161 60278bdba52f02673cba4dae76cd16d0 70453
AR162 51c8cfb83ecf4737426e9cc1f786b83d 45092
AR163 1eb04e2595d4f84e2d8c53e4a3a6d879 60280
AR164 4e1f855140ee6c03d52f9106bf8e8e63 800
AR165 bdd713c6c60cfa055b459d5b852fc768 44408
AR166 4579097e811f1b8930c5d0e6d5bebf62 24
AR167 9ffec579e6ff5b53095f87eb123e5389 121501
METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D2 Frontispiece
D3 Little Lord Fauntleroy 3 Chapter
P5 4
P6 5
P7 6
D4 A November evening Poem
P8 7
D5 Halloween (picture)
P10 9
P11 10
P12 11
D6 Barty's turkey
P13 12
P15 14
D7 The moon and its "shine"
P16 15
D8 candy country
P17 16
P18 17
P19 18
P20 19
P21 20
P22 21
P23 22
D9 Who'll buy
P24 23
D10 Giant turtles
P26 25
P27 26
P28 27
D11 From Bach to Wagner
P29 28
D12 bright idea
P30 29
D13 Uncle aunt
P31 30
P32 31
P33 32
P34 33
P35 34
P36 35
D14 Wood-notes from a cage
P37 36
D29 Playing school
P38 37
D15 Personally conducted
P39 38
P40 39
P41 40
P42 41
P43 42
P44 43
P45 44
P46 45
P47 46
D16 "Our Joe"
P48 47
P49 48
P50 49
P51 50
P52 51
D17 To squirrel
P53 52
D18 Among the law-makers
P54 53
D19 Two middies at Ephesus
P55 54
P56 55
P57 56
P58 57
P59 58
P60 59
D20 Fire!
P61 60
D21 Home-made Christmas gifts
P62 61
P63 62
P64 63
P65 64
P66 65
P67 66
P68 67
P69 68
D22 Brownies bicycles
P70 69
P71 70
P72 71
D23 Jack-in-the-pulpit
P73 72
P74 73
D24 letter-box
P75 74
P76 75
D25 Agassiz association: Fifty-fifth report
P77 76
P78 77
D26 riddle-box
P79 78
P80 79
P81 80
D27 Back
D28 Spine
METS:behaviorSec VIEWS Options available user for viewing this item
METS:behavior VIEW1 STRUCTID Default View
METS:mechanism Viewer JPEGs Procedure xlink:type simple xlink:title JPEG_Viewer()
VIEW2 Alternate
zoomable JPEG2000s JP2_Viewer()
INTERFACES Banners or interfaces which resource can appear under
INT1 Interface

St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00164
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00164
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 2
    Little Lord Fauntleroy
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    A November evening
        Page 7
    Halloween (picture) - The magic clocks
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Barty's turkey
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    The moon and its "shine"
        Page 15
    The candy country
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    Who'll buy?
        Page 23
    Giant turtles
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    From Bach to Wagner
        Page 28
    A bright idea
        Page 29
    Uncle and aunt
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Wood-notes from a cage
        Page 36
    Playing school (picture)
        Page 37
    Personally conducted
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    "Our Joe"
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    To a squirrel
        Page 52
    Among the law-makers
        Page 53
    Two middies at Ephesus
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    Fire! Fire!
        Page 60
    Home-made Christmas gifts
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    The Brownies and the bicycles
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    The letter-box
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The Agassiz association: Fifty-fifth report
        Page 76
        Page 77
    The riddle-box
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


-A X,



. . . . . .






[Copyright, 3885, by THE CENTURY CO.]




CEDRIC himself knew nothing whatever about
it. It had never been even mentioned to him.
He knew that his papa had been an Englishman,
because his mamma had told him so; but then his
papa had died ivhen he was so little a boy that
he could not remember very much about him,
except that he was big, and had blue eyes and a
long mustache, and that it was a splendid thing
to be carried around the room on his shoulder.
Since his papa's death, Cedric had found out that
it was best not to talk to his mamma about him.
When his father was ill, Cedric had been sent away,
and when he had returned, everything was over;
and his mother, who had been very ill, too, was
only just beginning to sit in her chair by the win-
dow. She was pale and thin, and all the dimples
had gone from her pretty face, and her eyes looked
large and mournful, and she was dressed in black.
"Dearest," said Cedric (his papa had called
her that always, and so the little boy had learned
to say it),-"dearest, is my papa better ?"
He felt her arms tremble, and so he turned his
curly head and looked in her face. There was
something in it that made him feel that he was
going to cry.
"Dearest," he said; "is he well?"
Then suddenly his lovinglittle heart told him that
he'd better put both his arms around her neck and
kiss her again and again, and keep his soft cheek
close to hers; and he did so, and she laid her face

on his shoulder and cried bitterly, holding him as
if she could never let him go again.
"Yes, he is well," she sobbed; "he is quite,
quite well, but we-we have no one left but each
other. No one at all."
Then, little as he was, he understood that his
big, handsome young papa would not come back
any more; that he was dead, as he had heard of
other people being, although he could not compre-
hend exactly what strange thing had brought all
this sadness about. It was because his mamma
always cried when he spoke of his papa that he
secretly made up his mind it was better not to
speak of him very often to her, and he found out,
too, that it was better not to let her sit still and look
into the fire or out of the window without moving
or talking. He and his mamma knew very few
people, and lived what might have been thought
very lonely lives, although Cedric did not know it
was lonely until he grew older and heard why it
was they had no visitors. Then he was told that
his mamma was an orphan, and quite alone in
the world when his papa had married her. She
was very pretty, and had been living as com-
panion to a rich old lady who was not kind to her,
and one day Captain Cedric Errol, who was call-
ing at the house, saw her run up the stairs with
tears on her eyelashes; and she looked so sweet
and innocent and sorrowful that the Captain could
not forget her. And after many strange things
had happened, they knew each other well and
loved each other dearly, and were married, al-


No. I.


though their marriage brought them the ill-will of
several persons. The one who was most angry of
all, however, was the Captain's father, who lived in
England, and was a very rich and important old
nobleman, with a very bad temper and a very
violent dislike to America and Americans. He
had two sons older than Captain Cedric; and it
was the law that the elder of these sons should
inherit the family title and estates, which were
very rich and splendid; if the eldest son died the
next one would be heir; so though he was a mem-
ber of such a great family, there was little chance
that Captain Cedric would be very rich himself.
But it so happened that Nature had given to
the younger son gifts which she had not bestowed
upon his elder brothers. He had a beautiful
face and a fine, strong, graceful figure; he had
a bright smile and a sweet, gay voice; he was
brave and generous, and had the kindest heart
in the world, and seemed to have the power to
make every one love him. And it was not so
with his elder brothers; neither of them was
handsome, or very kind, or clever. When they
were boys at Eton, they were not popular; when
they were at college, they cared nothing for
study, and wasted both time and money, and
made few real friends. The old Earl, their father,
was constantly disappointed and humiliated by
them; his heir was no honor to his noble name,
and did not promise to end in being anything but
a selfish, wasteful, insignificant man, with no
manly or noble qualities. It was very bitter, the
old Earl thought, that the son who was only third,
and would have only a very small fortune, should
be the one who had all the gifts, and all the
charms, and all the strength and beauty. Some-
times he almost hated the handsome young man
because he seemed to have the good things which
should have gone with the stately title and the
magnificent estates; and yet, in the depths of his
proud, stubborn old heart, he could not help car-
ing very much for his youngest son. It was in one
of his fits of petulance that he sent him off to
travel in America; he thought he would send
him away for a while, so that he should not be
made angry by constantly contrasting him with
his brothers, who were at that time giving him a
great deal of trouble by their wild ways.
But after about six months, he began to feel
lonely, and longed in secret to see his son again, so
he wrote to Captain Cedric and ordered him home.
The letter he wrote crossed on its way a letter the
Captain had just written to his father, telling of his
love for the pretty American girl, and of his intended
marriage; and when the Earl received that letter,
he was furiously angry. Bad as his temper was, he
had never given way to it in his life as he gave way

to it when he read the Captain's letter. His valet,
who was in the room when it came, thought
his lordship would have a fit of apoplexy, he was
so wild with anger. For an hour he raged like a
tiger, and then he sat down and wrote to his son,
and ordered him never to come near his old home,
nor to write to his father or brothers again. He
told him he might live as he pleased, and die
where he pleased, that he should be cut off from
his family forever, and that he need never expect
help from his father as long as he lived.
The Captain was very sad when he read the
letter; he was very fond of England, and he
dearly loved the beautiful home where he had
been born; he had even loved his ill-tempered
old father, and had sympathized with him in his
disappointments; but he knew he need expect no
kindness from him in the future. At first he scarcely
knew what to do; he had not been brought up to
work, and had no business experience, but he had
courage and plenty of determination. So he sold
his commission in the English army, and after
some trouble found a situation in New York, and
married. The change from his old life in Eng-
land was very great, but he was young and happy
and he hoped that hard work would do great
things for him in the future. He had a small
house on a quiet street, and his little boy was
born there, and everything was so gay and cheer-
ful, in a simple way, that he was never sorry for a
moment that he had married the rich old lady's
pretty companion just because she was so sweet
and he loved her and she loved him. She was
very sweet, indeed, and her little boy was like
both her and his father. Though he was born in
so quiet and cheap a little home, it seemed as if
there never had been a more fortunate baby. In
the first place, he was always well, and so he never
gave any one trouble; in the second place, he had
so sweet a temper and ways so charming that he
was a pleasure to every one; and in the third place,
he was so beautiful to look at that he was quite a
picture. Instead of being a bald-headed baby,
he started in life with a quantity of soft, fine,
gold-colored hair, which curled up at the ends,
and went into loose rings by the time he was six
months old; he had big brown eyes and long
eye-lashes and a darling little face; he had so
strong a back and splendid sturdy legs, that at
nine months he learned suddenly to walk; his man-
ners were so good, for a baby, that it was delight-
ful to make his acquaintance. He seemed to feel
that every one was his friend, and when any one
spoke to him, when he was in his carriage in the
street, he would give the stranger one sweet,
serious look with the brown eyes, and then follow
it with a lovely, friendly smile; and the consequence



was, that there was not a person in the neighbor-
hood of the quiet street where he lived,- even to
the groceryman at the corner, who was consid-
ered the crossest creature alive,-who was not
pleased to see him, and speak to him. And every
month of his life he grew handsomer and more
When he was old enough to walk out with his
nurse, dragging a small wagon and wearing a short
white kilt skirt, and a big white hat set back on his
curly yellow hair, he was so handsome and strong
and rosy that he attracted every one's attention,
and his nurse would come home and tell his
mamma stories of the ladies who had stopped
their carriages to look at and speak to him, and of
how pleased they were when he talked to them in
his cheerful little way, as if he had known them
always. His greatest charm was this cheerful,
fearless, quaint little way of making friends with
people. I think it arose from his having a very
confiding nature, and a kind little heart that
sympathized with every one, and wished to make
every one as comfortable as he liked to be him-
self. It made him very quick to understand the
feelings of those about him. Perhaps this had
grown on him, too, because he had lived so much
with his father and mother, who were always
loving and considerate and tender and well-
bred. He had never heard an unkind or uncourt-
eous word spoken at home; he had always been
loved and caressed and treated tenderly, and so
his childish soul was full of kindness and innocent
warm feeling. He had always heard his mamma
called by pretty, loving names, and so he used
them himself when he spoke to her; he had always
seen that his papa watched over her and took great
care of her, and so he learned, too, to be careful
of her.
So when he knew his papa would come back
no more and saw how very sad his mamma was,
there gradually came into his kind little heart
the thought that he must do what he could to
make her happy. He was not much more than a
baby, but that thought was in his mind whenever
he climbed upon her knee and kissed her, and
put his curly head on her neck, and when he
brought his toys and picture-books to show her,
and when he curled up quietly by her side as
she used to lie on the sofa. He was not old
enough to know of anything else to do, so he did
what he could, and was more of a comfort to her
than he could have understood.
'" Oh, Mary he heard her say once to her old
servant; "I am sure he is trying to help me in
his innocent way I know he is. He looks at me
sometimes with a loving, wondering little look,
as if he were sorry for me, and then he will come

and pet me or show me something. He is such
a little man, I really think he knows."
As he grew older, he had a great many quaint
little ways which amused and interested people
greatly. He was so much of a companion for his
mother that she scarcely cared for any other.
They used to walk together and talk together and
play together. When he was quite a little fellow,
he learned to read; and after that, he used to lie on
the hearth-rug, in the evening, and read aloud -
sometimes stories, and sometimes big books such
as older people read, and sometimes even the
newspaper; and often at such times Mary, in the
kitchen, would hear Mrs. Errol laughing with
delight at the quaint things he said.
: And, indade," said Mary to the groceryman,
" nobody cud help laughing' at the quare little
ways of him and his ould-fashioned saying's!
Did n't he come into my kitchen the night the
new president was nominated and stand afore the
fire, looking' like a picture wid his hands in his
small pockets, an' his innocent bit of a face as
sayrious as a jedge ? An' sez he to me: Mary,'
sez he, I 'm very much int'rusted in the election, '
sez he. 'I 'm a 'publican, an' so is Dearest.
Are you a 'publican, Mary? ' Sorra a bit,' sez I;
' I 'm the bist o' dimmycrats! An' he looks up
at me wid a look that ud go to yer heart, and sez
he: Mary,' sez he, the country will go to ruin.'
An' nivver a day since thin has he let go by widout
argyin' wid me to change me politics."
Mary was very fond of him, and very proud of
him, too. She had been with his mother ever
since he was born; and, after his father's death,
had been cook and housemaid and nurse and every-
thing else. She was proud of his graceful, strong
little body and his pretty manners, and especially
proud of the bright curly hair which waved over
his forehead and fell in charming love-locks on his
shoulders. She was willing to work early and late
to help his mamma make his small suits and keep
them in order.
'Ristycratic, is it ? she would say. Faith,
an' I 'd like to see the child on Fifth Avey-noo as
looks like him an' steps out as handsome as him-
self. An' ivvery man, woman, and child looking'
after him in his bit of a black velvet skirt made
out of the misthress's would gownd; an' his little
head up an' his curly hair flying' an' shining It 's
like a young lord he looks."
Cedric did not know that he looked like a young
lord; he did not know what a lord was. His
greatest friend was the groceryman at the corner
the cross groceryman, who was never cross to
him. His name was Mr. Hobbs, and Cedric ad-
mired and respected him very much. He thought
him a very rich and powerful person, he nad so


many things in his store prunes and figs and
oranges and biscuits,- and he had a horse and
wagon. Cedric was fond of the milkman and the
baker and the apple-woman, but he liked Mr.
Hobbsbest of all, and wason terms of such intimacy
with him that he went to see him every day, and
often sat with him quite a long time, discussing
the topics of the hour. It was quite surprising
how many things they found to talk about- the
Fourth of July, for instance. When they began
to talk about the Fourth of July there really seemed
no end to it. Mr. Hobbs had a very bad opinion
of the British," and he told the whole story of the
Revolution, relating very wonderful and patri-
otic stories about the villainy of the enemy and the
bravery of the Revolutionary heroes, and he even
generously repeated part of the Declaration of In-
dependence. Cedric was
so excited that his eyes 7.I
shone and his cheeks were"' '
red and his curls were
all rubbed and tumbled f,.
into a yellow mop. He
could hardly wait to eat
his dinner after he went
home, he was so anxious
to tell his mamma. It
was, perhaps, Mr. Hobbs
who gave him his first
interest in politics. Mr. il,
Hobbs was fond of read-
ing the newspapers, and
so Cedric heard a great
deal about what was go-
ing on in Washington;
and Mr. Hobbs would
tell him whether the
President was doing his
duty or not. And once,
when there was an elec- -
tion, he found it all quite
grand, and probably but
for Mr. Hobbs and Ced-- -
ric the country might
have been wrecked. Mr.
Hobbs took him to see a .,:. t .l.. i.i, :...:i
sion, and many of the m .ri Ih.. : r..,. r..r. .-
remembered afterward a stcui'iii u i -i.. ,... .
a lamp-post and held on hi :1-..ui . i I., ii. ..-I ..:
little shouting boy, who waved his cap in the air.
It was not long after this election, when Cedric
was between seven and eight years old, that the
very strange thing happened which made so won-
derful a change in his life. It was quite curious,
too, that the day it happened he had been talking to
Mr. Hobbs about England and the Queen, and Mr.
Hobbs had said some very severe things about the

aristocracy, being specially indignant against earls
and marquises. It had been a hot morning; and
after playing soldiers with some friends of his,
Cedric had gone into the store to rest, and had
found Mr. Hobbs looking very fierce over a piece
of the Illustrated London News, which contained
a picture of some court ceremony.
"Ah," he said, that's the way they go on now;
but they '11 get enough of it some day, when those
they 've trod on rise and blow 'em up sky-high,-
earls and marquises and all! It 's coming, and
they may look out for it "
Cedric had perched himself as usual on the high
stool and pushed his hat back, and put his hands
in his pockets in delicate compliment to Mr.
Did you ever know many marquises, Mr.

swered Mr.
Hobbs, with (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
" I guess not. I 'd like to catch one of 'em inside
here; that 's all! I '11 have no grasping tyrants
sitting' 'round on my cracker-barrels! "
And he was so proud of the sentiment that he
looked around proudly and mopped his forehead.



"Perhaps they would n't be earls if they knew
any better," said Cedric, feeling some vague sym-
pathy for their unhappy condition.
Would n't they said Mr. Hobbs. They
just glory in it! It 's in 'em. They 're a bad lot."
They were in the midst of their conversation,
when Mary appeared. Cedric thought she had
come to buy some sugar, perhaps, but shehad not.
She looked almost pale and as if she were excited
about something.
"Come home, darlint," she said; the mis-
thress is wantin' yez."
Cedric slipped down from his stool.
Does she want me to go out with her, Mary ? "
he asked. "Good morning, Mr. Hobbs. I 'll see
you again."
He was surprised to see Mary staring at him in
a dumfounded fashion, and he wondered why she
kept shaking her head.
What 's the matter, Mary?" he said. Is it
the hot weather? "
No," said Mary, "but there's strange things
happening' to us."
"Has the sun given Dearest a headache?" he
inquired anxiously.
But it was not that. When he reached his own
house there was a coupe standing before the door,

and some one was in the little parlor talking to his
mamma. Mary hurried him up-stairs and put on
his best summer suit of cream-colored flannel with
the red scarf around the waist, and combed out his
curly locks.
"Lords, is it?" he heard her say. An' the
nobility an' gintry. Och bad cess to them Lords
indade-worse luck."
It was really very puzzling, but he felt sure his
mamma would tell him what all the excitement
meant, so he allowed Mary to bemoan herself with-
out asking many questions. When he was dressed,
he ran down-stairs and went into the parlor. A
tall, thin old gentleman with a sharp face was sitting
in an arm-chair. His mother was standing near
by with a pale face, and he saw that there were
tears in her eyes.
"Oh! Ceddie !' she cried out, and ran to her
little boy and caught him in her arms and kissed
him in a little frightened, troubled way. Oh!
Ceddie, darling! "
The tall old gentleman rose from his chair and
looked at Cedric with his sharp eyes. He rubbed
his thin chin with his bony hand as he looked.
He seemed not at all displeased.
And so," he said at last, slowly,- ''and so this
is little Lord Fauntleroy."

(To be continued.)



THE autumn night is dark and cold;
The wind blows loud; the year grows old,
The dead leaves whirl and rustle chill;
The cricket's chirp is long and shrill;
The skies that were so soft and warm
Mutter and bode of gathering storm.
And now, within the homes of men
The sacred hearth-fires gleam again,
And joy and cheer and friendship sweet
Within the charmed circle meet.

The children watch with new delight
The first fire, dancing redly bright,
That drives away the dark and cold;
And Grace's slender fingers hold
A braided fan from Mexico,
To make the broad flames flare and glow.

Alert, alive, they leap and run
Like fierce bright streamers of the sun
They shine on Robert's placid face,
And tint the pensive cheek of Grace,
And chase away the doubtful gloom
From every corner of the room.

O pleasant thought that far and near
Are gathering 'round each hearthstone
Bright faces, happy smiles, and eyes
Sweet with the summer's memories!
O holy altar-fires of home !
Tho' far and wide the children roam,
Your charm for them shall still endure
With love so strong and peace so sure.






(A arable in two faris.)

ONE day, as four children, named Frank, James,
Helen, and Elizabeth, were playing in front of
their father's house, a queer thing happened.
They had not heard the sound of approaching foot-
steps; but suddenly they saw a little old man stand-
ing in front of the gate, leaning over it and looking
at them.
He carried upon his back a big box strapped
with leather bands, and held in place by a wide
band passing across his chest.

Why, there 's a peddler exclaimed Frank.
"Mamma never buys anything of peddlers, you
know," said Elizabeth. She always tells Bridget
to send them right away without calling her."
"You need not come in," shouted James;
" peddlers never sell anything here."
The old man did not move nor speak, but stood
still, with his eyes fixed on the children, looking
first at one, then at another.
"What a queer old man!" said Helen in a
whisper, coming up closer to her brother Frank.
"I wish he would go away. What makes him
stare so at us ? "
Why does n't he speak? said James.



"Perhaps he is deaf and dumb, poor man,"
said Elizabeth; and she took a few hesitating
steps toward the gate.
At this the old man smiled. When he smiled,
his face became beautiful. A sort of light spread
all over it. As soon as the children saw the smile,
they all began to walk toward him. He seemed
to draw them, insensibly. They were half afraid,
and yet they could not stay away from him.
No, dear children," he said; I am not deaf
and dumb. I was only looking at your faces to
see whether I should leave some of my magic
clocks with you."
At the word magic," Frank was at once all
attention. He had a passion for conjurors' tricks
and for anything that was mystical. He thought
he would rather be a prestidigitator than anything
else in the world.
"What is there magical about your clocks?" he
asked eagerly. I never heard of a magic clock."
"We could n't buy any, Frank," whispered
Elizabeth. Mamma would n't let us."
They are not for sale, little lady," said the old
man, smiling again.
He had overheard her whisper. At this second
smile the children drew still nearer him. They
almost loved him.
Oh, do show them to us cried Frank.
I thought you said you were thinking whether
you could leave some of them here," said Helen,
pettishly; and now you say they are not for sale.
Then how could you leave them here ?"
All the answer the old man made to this was to
nod his head and say, as if to himself, She needs
one And with that he slipped his box off his
shoulders, set it down on the ground, and began to
undo the leather buckles.
All the time that he was doing this, he kept
repeating to himself some strange words that the
children could not understand. It sounded like
poetry; but the language did not resemble any
the children had ever heard.
"What are you saying? Do talk English!
can't you," exclaimed Helen hastily. She was a
very quick-tempered little girl, and often said
things that sounded as if she were very cross, when
she was not cross at all, but only impatient.
This time the old man looked at her sternly be-
fore he nodded his head.
Yes," he said,- she needs one badly "
At this, Helen slipped behind Frank and, pulling
his jacket, whispered: Do make him go away,
Frank! He frightens me."
"Be quiet! said Frank angrily, pushing her
back. "Don't be so foolish I want to see the
clocks "
So, ho 1 He needs one, too !" said the old man,

without looking up, as he went on unbuckling
strap after strap.
"What does he mean?" said Elizabeth to
James in a low tone. I am afraid he is crazy.
Poor old man ; what will become of him ? "
At this the old man gave a smile that seemed
to light up the whole place like a great sunbeam;
and he nodded his head three or four times ; and
he fixed his eyes on Elizabeth's face with so beauti-
ful an expression of good-will and affection, that she
was ashamed of having thought he must be crazy.
"Good girl! good girl! he said. Merry
bells for you." And as he spoke, he lifted out of his
box a beautiful little white alabaster clock, not more
than six inches high, and handed it to Elizabeth.
Oh, what a beauty she cried.
"But what is magical about it?" asked Frank.
It looks just like other clocks."
"No, not like other clocks," replied the old
man, handing another one to Frank, and one to
James, and one to Helen. They all were alike,-
pure white alabaster, with gold faces, and wreaths
of red roses painted on them.
I wonder if he stole them," whispered Helen
to James.
"Bang! bang! bang!" went the clock in her
hands You would n't have thought so loud and
harsh a note could come from so tiny a little
clock. Helen was so frightened that she dropped
it on the ground.
"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, springing to catch it.
It will be broken How could you say so un-
kind a thing, Helen ?"
"Kling! king! kling!" went the clock in
Elizabeth's hands, with a note as sweet as a
canary's voice; but she was as frightened as
Helen had been, and dropped her clock just as
quickly on the ground at her feet.
But they were not broken or cracked, and the
old man, who seemed strangely nimble for his age,
picked them both up before the two girls could reach
them. Handing them back, he said, still smiling:
"Magic clocks will stand a great many hard
knocks without breaking."
All this time Frank was turning his over and
over, and looking at a little glass set in the back,
through which the machinery could be seen. Frank
knew something about the construction of clocks
and watches. He had an old silver watch of his
own that he had more than once taken to pieces
and put together again.
Humph There is n't anything magical about
these clocks," he declared at last, rather rudely.
I can see all the wheels. They're just such as
are always in clocks."
Dong dong dong !" struck the clock in his
hands in a sharp, squeaking tone, not so loud and


harsh as Helen's, but disagreeable enough to make
Frank start and cry out with surprise. He did not
let go of the clock, however, but held it even
tighter, and began to look at it more closely.
"Magic clocks! magic clocks!" said the old
man; and as he spoke these words, he disappeared
from sight. Big box, leather straps, old man,
sunny smile--all had vanished from under the
children's very eyes, as suddenly as if the earth
had opened and swallowed him up.
Why where 's he gone cried Elizabeth.
Helen began to cry.
He 's a witch," she said.
Not a witch you little goose," said James,
who was rather scared himself. You mean a
wizard,-a witch is a woman "

a fact. Anyhow, we have the clocks, and we
did n't have to pay the old fellow anything."
"Dong! dong! dong!" said his clock, in a
loud, discordant note. This time Frank himself
was a little frightened. He put his clock down a
little apart from the others, stepped back a few
paces, thrust his hands into his pockets and began
to whistle.
"They seem to strike everyfewminutes,"he said,
" without any sort of time about it. That's queer."
Let 's keep perfectly still and watch them,"
said James, and see if they '1 do anything."
Five minutes, ten, fifteen passed. Not a sound
from the clocks. Not a sound from the children.
"I 've been thinking began Elizabeth,

(j -hi



'1 "'2
-- -" _- ,1 ;,

-^-.. .I , [' "-- .r IiI, .i "".:'l liI..i 'l 121i'*l


"Bang! bang! bang !" went James's clock, just
as Helen's had done when she spoke unkindly.
James set it down on the ground, close to the
fence, and stepped away from it a few feet. Helen
and Elizabeth put theirs down in a line with it.
Frank still held his in his hands, and was looking
all about for the old man; up and down the street,
even into the sky overhead. But there was not a
trace of a human being in the street; not a cloud
in the sky overhead.
Well, it does look like magic!" he said, that's

"Well, of course you have," broke in Helen;
" we all have been thinking! we 're not ninnies."
Whang whang! whang! went Helen's clock
in a tone so spiteful and hateful that all four of the
children jumped.
That's it! I knew it 1 said Elizabeth. I
know what the magic is. The clocks will strike in
that harsh way when we say mean, hateful things,
and they 'll make a musical sound when we say
pleasant things, and that '11 remind us all the time."
I believe that's so," said Frank, thoughtfully.

Tri I


" I wish the old man had n't gone. We don't
know how to wind them up. They 're real
There is n't any keyhole in them," said James,
who had been looking his over again, with close
I believe they don't need to be wound up,"
said Elizabeth. I think they'll keep on going
always. They are n't really clocks at all. They
are just magic things, like the things in the 'Ara-
bian Nights.' "
That's so," said Frank. Let's take them
into the house, and show them to Mamma. I won-
der if she will let us keep them."
I think she will," said Helen, who was quite
subdued by this time. I think she '11 be glad to
keep anything that will make me speak pleasantly
when I feel cross; and, as long as I live, I never
want to hear another sound like that last loud one
that my clock gave."
"Nor I," said Frank. Nor I," said James.
I liked the sound mine made," said Elizabeth;
it was just like music."
Well, I suppose it always will be, Lizzie," said
the other children, all speaking together; "be-
cause you are always so sweet and good-natured,
you know."
Upon which all four of the clocks struck together
three notes, so musical and sweet you would have
said fairy-bells must have been ringing in the air.
What the children's mother said when she saw
the clocks, I do not know; but she thought the
children had imagined all about the clocks strik-
ing; for it was a very queer thing, that no matter
how loudly the clocks struck, nobody but their
owners could hear the sounds. At first this used
to frighten the children, especially Helen, whose
clock, I am sorry to say, had to strike loudly and
harshly many times in a week. But more and
more they came to feel that the clocks were
their friends; and that in some mysterious way
which they could not understand, the old man
who had brought them must be their friend too.
I think he '11 be back again some day," said
Elizabeth, one evening when they all had been

having a fine play together, and each one of them
had been trying to make all the others have a
good time, and the little clocks had all rung out
together a lovely chime of sweet Kling-a-ling-
lings." I think he '11 come back to see whether
we 've been helped by the clocks or not."
I think so, too," said Frank ; and if he does,
I tell you, I 'm going to grip his coat, and hold
him tight till he 's answered all our questions."
I'11 be afraid to see him," sighed poor little
Helen. I have such a dreadful temper. But I
do try very hard to conquer it, nobody knows how
hard, and I don't mean ever to stop trying."
Kling-a-kiing-ling kling-ling ling ling,"
said Helen's clock, which she had under her arm.
She hardly ever stirred without it,-she was so anx-
ious to be reminded always when she spoke crossly.
There That's a comfort I she exclaimed.
It has n't made so sweet a sound as that for three
No wonder," said Frank, thoughtlessly;
you 've been a perfect spit-fire these last three
days; I 've wondered what ailed you."
Helen's eyes filled with tears, and she was just
about to make some angry reply, when "Bang!
bang! bang came from Frank's chamber win-
dow, which stood wide open. His clock was stand-
ing on the window-sill.
I was caught that time," said Frank. Never
mind, Helen. I did n't mean to make you feel badly.
I am very sorry I said it."
Kli''!- .-! -." said the little clock, in a gentle,
soft note.
Does n't it sound like all right,' when they
ring that way ?" said Elizabeth. It is almost
like a real voice speaking. I just wish the old
man would come back!" she continued. I 'd like
to thank him. We never thanked him, you know.
He vanished so quickly."
I think he'll come," replied Frank. Magicians
always do come back, in fairy stories. Don't you
know, in so many stories it says, 'And the magician
re-appeared? '"
That's so echoed James, I 'm sure he 'll
come back."
(To be continued.)



[A Thanksgi ugday Story.]


"WHAT do you wish, Barty O'Flanigan?"
Miss Sarah Wilhelmina Appleby put her head
out at the window and spoke rather impatiently.
Barty O'Flanigan was a small boy with a big
basket and a bigger voice, while his brogue was
something wonderful to hear.
"It 's the foine fat turkey the misthress is after
promising' me fur me Thanksgivin' I 'm wantin',"
replied Barty. Shure, did n't I ketch her would
horrse as was after running' away, an' should him
till the arrums iv me was broke entirely ? An' sez
the misthress to me, sez she, 'Barty,' sez she,
' come up an' take your pick iv me foine fat turr-
keys fur your Thanksgivin' dinner,' sez she. An'
it's here I am, Miss, be the same token."
Miss Sarah Wilhelmina remembered her aunt's
promise. But Tim has gone to the station," she
said. You '11 have to come again when he can
catch one for you."
An' why could n't I ketch it meself, an' me
mother waiting' to pluck the feathers aff it, an' the
mistress sayin' I could have me pick?" queried
Barty insinuatingly.
"I don'tknowwhetheryoucould catch one, Barty;
you 're so small," said Sarah Wilhelmina doubtfully.
"The legs ov me is long," said Barty, di.i i,. ;,
them with pride, an' I can ketch any thing at
all, so me mother sez- barrin' the maysles."
Now Sarah Wilhelmina was in a hurry, for she
was going away to spend Thanksgiving; and
Martha Washington was down cellar and Mancy
had gone on an errand.
I know Aunt Doxy would n't wish him to be
disappointed," she said to herself; and then she
added aloud, Oh, well, Barty; you may catch
one if you can; all the turkeys are out in the
field"; and with that, Sarah Wilhelmina rushed
off to her train, while Barty betook himself to the
field where the doomed I i. ii:o. ,, turkeys
were enjoying the frosty November air.
Two hours afterward Miss Eudoxia Appleby,
the mistress of Pine Hill Farm, reached home
with her small niece, Rebecca Ellen, and her
nephew Thaddeus.
I 'm almost sorry I let Sarah Wilhelmina go,"
said Aunt Doxy sadly. "I 'm afraid we shall
have a very lonely Thanksgiving."
As they usually had very jolly Thanksgivings at
Pine Hill Farm, Becky and Thaddy grew sad also,

and Becky, looking wistfully out of the window at
a little house at the foot of the hill, said :
Better 'vite the people at the cottage ; then 't
would n't be lonesome."
Aunt Doxy spoke severely, almost sharply.
"Becky," she said, "those people in the cottage
are not such as I approve of, and neither of you
children must even go near the fence."
Nobody in Cressbrook knew just what to think
of the cottage people," as Aunt Doxy called
them. They had taken the little house in the
early spring, and had added peaks and gables and
little piazzas to it, and had painted it in red and
olive and yellow, until Aunt Doxy declared it
a dreadful sight to see.
And she did n't like the looks of the people any
better. They wore fantastic finery and appeared
as if they were always going to a fancy-dress ball.
The man who took care of their horse and cow
had been seen in a Roman toga. The lady of the
house fed the chickens in a Mother Hubbard dress
of sea-green organdie, with a poke bonnet on her
head and a ridiculous dove perched on her
shoulder. And the children--a boy and girl of
about the same ages as Thaddy and Becky-
looked like a little grandfather and grandmother
who had just stepped out of some old picture-
frame,-or so Aunt Doxy i1..: _i.1 She even
contemplated building a very high fence between
the two gardens, lest Becky and Thaddy should
take an interest in the small antique-looking per-
sons who lived in the queer cottage.
Of course they took an interest in them, and
many stolen glances besides; they soon found out
in some way that the children at the cottage were
named Rupert and Marguerite, and that they were
kind and pleasant playmates.
But in the midst of. the children's horrifying as-
sertion to Aunt Doxy, that they did n't believe
Rupert and Marguerite were very bad children
after all, there came a revelation that almost took
the good lady's breath away.
Emancipation, or Mancy, was the very black
daughter of the equally black Martha Washington,
whom Miss Eudoxia had imported from the South
for household "helps" soon after the war. And
Mancy now burst, almost breathless, into the room
with the cry:
Oh, Miss Doxy de Princess gone "


i88s.] BARTY'S TURKEY. 13

Gone ? She has n't flown over the cottage
fence, has she ?" exclaimed Aunt Doxy, in great
Wus 'n dat," declared Martha Washington,

pea-fowls -" Prince and Princess Charming." The
Prince was a great, splendidly shaped peacock, with
a magnificent display of tail-feathers; the Princess
was of a dull color, and had no tail-feathers to


bustling in after her daughter. Wus 'n dat,
Miss Doxy she 's been pulled froo de fence "
Aunt Doxy was fond of pets and had a great
many, but her heart was especially set upon her

spread. She was chiefly remarkable for a very
discordant voice. But Aunt Doxy seemed fonder
of her than of the Prince. Perhaps it was because
everybody disparaged her.


Pulled through the fence i Why, what do you
mean ?" she cried.
Martha Washington's fat and jolly face was
gloomy with prophecy.
Yo' knows, for a fac', Miss Doxy," she said,
"how'tractive dem peacocks has allays b'en to de
family down dar," and she pointed a fat, disap-
proving finger at the cottage, for Martha Wash-
ington shared her mistress's prejudices. De gem-
man hisself done sit on de fence in de br'ilin' sun,
a-takin' of dem off wiv his pencil, an' de leetle gal
say her mammy done want a fan made out ob de
Prince's tail. Ahd see yar, Miss Doxy,"-Martha
Washington solemnly drew from her pocket a
brownish-drab feather,-" I done fin' dis stickin'
in de cottage fence whar de pore bird was pulled
froo." And Martha Washington spread out both
her fat hands, as if to emphasize her proof of the
" cottage people's guilt.
Aunt Doxy was overcome. O my poor Prin-
cess !" she said. What could they want it for?"
"Why, to eat, Miss Doxy, o' course," declared
Martha Washington. "Dat sort o' s'picious folks
allays get de curusest things to eat. Dey took
Princess for deir i _-I--I. j' dinner."
"What ignorant, barbarous people they must
be-to eat a peacock! said Aunt Doxy. "I cer-
tainly must write a letter of remonstrance, and
see what excuse they can offer for so unchristian
an act."
Aunt Doxy was considered by her fellow-workers
in church and Sunday-school as having an
especial gift for dealing with transgressors. So
she seated herself at her desk, and proceeded to
the task of bringing her sinful neighbors to a sense
of their great wickedness. She did not hesitate
to show them plainly the wrong of which they
had been guilty, and she did not even deem it
fitting that, as was often the case with her, jus-
tice should be tempered with mercy. Aunt Doxy
sadly feared that her objectionable neighbors were
hardened offenders, whose hearts could not be
easily touched.
"Here, Thaddy," she said, as she folded her
note, "you may carry this to the cottage; come
back just as soon as you have delivered it -do you
hear ? "
And Thaddy, overjoyed at this opportunity to
enter forbidden ground and have even a few
moments of Rupert's society, replied, "Yes 'm,"
with suspicious docility, and ran off like a flash.
I hopes nuffin '11 happen to dat boy," muttered
Martha Washington gloomily, as she went about
her Thanksgiving-day preparations. She evidently
believed there were no limits to the enormities of
which the cottage people were capable.
Half an hour passed by, and then Becky said,

looking enviously toward the cottage, with her
nose flattened against the window-pane: "I won-
der why Thaddy does n 't come back? "
Aunt Doxy looked up in great alarm. "'Had
n't he come back ? she asked. How could she
have forgotten him ? But surely they could not be
wicked enough to harm a child.
Tim was dispatched in great haste in search of
the missing boy. He found him in the grove be-
hind the cottage, playing with Rupert. Thaddy
was silent and ashamed under Aunt Doxy's re-
proof. Rupert had coaxed him to play, and he
had played. That was all he would say, except the
expression of his opinion that Rupert was a good
boy, and was going to have a donkey with long
ears." It was evident that, in spite of the melan-
choly fate of the poor Princess, Thaddy had a
great longing for the society at the cottage.
Miss Doxy sat up late, expecting a message of
some sort from her neighbors, but none came.
Poor Prince Charming was uttering doleful and
discordant cries for the lost partner of his joys
and sorrows.
Oh, how truly thankful I could be to-morrow,"
thought Aunt Doxy, "if those people had only
gone back to town "
But when she arose in the morning, a bright and
jolly T!i Lr-:-; ;,.- sun was peeping above the
gables of the little red, olive, and yellow cottage,
and an ample Thanksgiving smoke was pouring
out of its chimney.
Aunt Doxy seated herself at the breakfast table
sad at heart. The children said little, and the poor
peacock recommended his wailing. Suddenly
there came a violent knocking at the back door.
"The answer to myletter," thought Aunt Doxy.
But it was n't. For the next moment there
burst into the room a stout Irishwoman with a big
basket, dragging in a shame-faced boy Mrs.
O'Flanigan and Barty !
From the basket arose a voice -muffled and
hoarse, but still familiar, and sounding like sweet
music to Aunt Doxy's ear.
"0 Miss Appleby, mum," said Mrs. O'Flanigan,
"it's kilt intoirely I am, mum, wid shame, an' the
hairt iv me is broke, so it is, that ivver I'd see the
day whin me own boy an' his father as sinsible
a man as ivver stepped in two shoes wud n't
know the difference betwane a turkey an' a pay-
cock! Shure, he sez yersilf was away an the
young leddy guy him lave to pick out a turkey
for himself, and he tuk this wan, so he did, for a
fine large turkey, and him a-thryin'to wring the
neck ov it when I hears the quare voice ov the
craythur. And sez I, 'Whativer air ye about,
ye spalpane?' sez I; 'it do be Miss Appleby's pay-
cock ye have there.' An' he havin' the neck of



the poor baste half wrung, an' the craythur near
kilt, I was afeerd to bring her home til ye. An'
sure, I shplinthered up the neck ov her and
docthered her up wid swate ile, an' last night she'd
ate a bit, an' this marnin' her voice had grown that
swate and nat-chooral 't would bring tears to the
oies ov yer. And, sez I to Barty, sez I, 'Come
along up to Miss Appleby's wid me,' sez I, an' if
it is n't hangin' ye '11 get,' sez I, it's in the cold
jail ye '11 spind yer Thanksgivin'-day,' sez I, : fur
murtherin' ov her poor baste ov a paycock- an' ye
wud have murthered her but for me,' sez I. "
Barty looked as dejected as anything so small
could well look; but he lifted up his gruff little
voice courageously.
Shure, i nivver knew that a craythur could be
a paycock widout a tail, at all, at all," he said
piteously, an' seeing' it war n't manin' any harrum
I was, an' the hairt ov me quite broke intoirely, an'
me mither's,-an' we not havin' anything' barring'
praties for our Thanksgivin' dinner, shure ye moit
lave me off, Miss Appleby, mum,-an' shure I 'll niv-
ver come where I hear the voice ov a paycock agin."
Aunt Doxy was so happy to have her dear
Princess restored that she could blame no one.
Never mind, Barty, you need n't feel badly," she
said. "You shall have the turkey I promised
you; a fine, fat one, and all ready for the oven.
-But, oh, dear," she exclaimed, if I only had n't
written that letter."
Barty's woe-begone look gave place to a beam
of happiness; but as he and his mother went off
with a fine turkey in the big basket, he still pro-
tested that shure it was not a right baste at all,
at all, that pertinded to be a paycock an' had n't
no iligint tail-feathers."
Aunt Doxy was still bemoaning her sad mistake
when Martha Washington, who felt that perhaps
she was somewhat to blame in the matter, came in
with a letter.
Oh, dear, is it the answer? said Aunt Doxy.
"Reckon not, Miss Doxy, it done come froo de

post-offis," replied Martha Washington, scanning
it closely. 'Pears like it might be from Miss Sarah
"Oh oh !" cried Aunt Doxy, as she read the
letter, what do you suppose Sarah Wilhelmina
says ? She says that Mrs. Gracey knows the peo-
ple in the cottage very well, and that she congrat-
ulates me on having such delightful neighbors.
They are Mr. A- the celebrated artist, and his
family; and Mrs. A- is a daughter of my old
minister, Dr. Forristall, who is going to spend
Thanksgiving with them! "
Aunt Doxy dropped the letter in herlap. Oh,
that letter, that dreadful letter she said. What
must they think of me ? "
But now Thaddy looked up suddenly from a
thoughtful consideration of the yellow kitten's eyes.
Are you sorry you wrote it, Aunt Doxy; true as
youlive, and never do so again ?" he asked solemnly,
"and would you be a little easy on a fellow if-
if-if an accident had happened to that letter ? "
Why, Thaddeus, what do you mean ? Tell me
instantly," said Aunt Doxy.
"Well," confessed Thaddy, "you see, before I
rang the bell at the cottage Rupert asked me to play
with him, and we went out to the grove back of the
house, and he was making a kazoo on a comb and
wanted a piece of paper, and so I pulled that let-
ter out of my pocket, without thinking what it was,
and tore it up, and I'm awful sorry, but--"
"Thaddy, it was very, very wrong of you to be
so careless and disobedient," said Aunt Doxy; "but
this time I do believe it was an interposition of
And soon another letter was dispatched to the
cottage, and Aunt Doxy followed it with an invi-
tation to dinner. And Mr. A- and Mrs. A-
and Rupert and Marguerite all came up from the
cottage, and so did Dr. Forristall. And so it came
to pass that they had a jolly Thanksgiving at Pine
Hill Farm after all. And Barty O'Flanigan had
his turkey, too.



" WILL you pull back the curtains, Mamma?" he Can you see it now ? "No," he cheerfully said,
said; "But I can see its beautiful shine."
"There 's a beautiful moon to-night,
And I want to lie right here in my bed Dear baby! his innocent answer I prize.
And watch it, so yellow and bright." It is full of a meaning divine;

So I tried to arrange the curtains and bed
For the dear little laddie of mine.

When the bright things we wish drift away
from our eyes,
May not we, too, rejoice in their "shine?"




"I SHALL take Mamma's red sun-umbrella; it
is so warm,--and none of the children at school will
have one like it," said Lilly, one day, as she went
through the hall.



The wind is very high; I 'm afraid you '11 be
blown away if you carry that big thing," called
nurse from the window.
I wish I could be blown away; I always wanted
to go up in a balloon," answered Lilly, as she strug-
gled out of the gate.
She managed quite well until she came to the
bridge, where she stopped to look over the railing
at the fast-running water below, and the turtles
sunning themselves on the rocks. Lilly was fond
of throwing stones at the turtles; she thought it
funny to watch them tumble with a II.:, ,i ,






splash into the water. Now, when she saw three
big fellows close by, she stooped for a stone, but
just at that very minute a gale of wind nearly
took the umbrella out of her hand. She clutched
it tightly; and away she went like a thistle-down,
right up in the air, over river and hill, houses
and trees, faster and faster and faster, till her
head spun around, her breath was all gone, and
she had to let go. The dear red umbrella
flew away like a leaf; and Lilly fell down, down,
till she came crash into a tree which grew in so
curious a place that she forgot her fright as she sat
looking about her.
The tree looked as if it were made of glass or
colored sugar; for she could look through the red
cherries, the green leaves, and the brown branches.
An agreeable aroma came to her nose. "Oh," she
cried at once, as would any child have said, "I
smell candy!" She picked a cherry and ate it.
Oh, how good it was -all sugar and no stone.
The next discovery was so delightful that she
nearly fell off her perch; for by touching her
tongue here and there, she found the whole tree
was made of candy. What a pleasure to sit and
break off twigs of barley sugar, candied cher-
ries, and leaves that tasted like peppermint and
Lilly rocked in the branches and ate away until
she had finished the top of the little tree; then
she climbed down and strolled along, making
more surprising and agreeable discoveries as she
What looked like snow under her feet was white
sugar; the rocks were lumps of chocolate; the flow-
ers were of all colors and tastes; and every sort of
fruit grew on those delightful trees. Little white
houses soon appeared; and in them lived the
dainty candy people, all made from the best sugar,
and painted to look like real people. Dear little
men and women, looking as if they had stepped
off of cakes and bonbons, went about in their gay
sugar clothes, laughing and talking in sweet-toned
voices. Bits of babies rocked in open-work cradles
and sugar boys and girls played with sugar toy
in a very natural way. Carriages rolled along
the jujube streets, drawn by red and yellow barley
horses; cows fed in the green fields, and sugar
birds sang in the candy trees.
Lilly listened, and in a moment she understood,
in some way, just what the song said,-

:: :---

\ i
\ \

~!, ,,


i r

II ii: 1 i/-


I "- -9-

I / ~---- -


" Sweet! Sweet
Come, come and eat
Dear little girls
With yellow curls;
For here you '11 find
Sweets to your mind.
On every tree
Sugar-plums you 'II see
In every dell
Grows the caramel;
Over every wall
Gum-drops fall;
Molasses flows
Where our river goes;
Under your feet
Lies sugar sweet;
Over your head
Grow almonds red.
Our lily and rose
Are not for the nose;
Our flowers we pluck
To eat or suck;
And, oh! what bliss

When two friends kiss,
For they honey sip
From lip to lip!
And all you meet,
In house or street,
At work or at play,
Sweethearts are they.

So, little dear,
Pray feel no fear;
Go where you will;
Eat, eat your fill;
Here is a feast
From west to east;
And you can say,
Ere you go away:
'At last I stand
In dear Candy-land.'
Sweet! Sweet!
Tweet! Tweet!
Tweedle-dee! "

That is the most interesting song I ever heard,"
said Lilly, clapping her hands and dancing along


-X ---*



with no tiresome school or patchwork to spoil my
fun," said ;ii .
So she ran up the chocolate steps into the pretty
rooms, where all the chairs and tables were of every
colored candy, and the beds of spun sugar. A
fountain of lemonade supplied drink ; and floors of
ice-cream that never melted kept people and
things from sticking together, as they would have
done, had it been warm.
For some time Lilly was quite happy, in going
about, tasting the many different kinds of sweets,
:i-i-. to the little people, who were very amiable,
and finding out curious things about them and
their country.
The babies were plain sugar, but the grown
people had different flavors. The young ladies were
mostly violet, rose, or orange; the gentlemen were
apt to have cordials of some sort inside of them,
as she found when she sllyl ate one now and then,
and as a punishment had her tongue bitten by the



I.,,- ',


I j

7_- .






toward a fine palace of white cream candy, with hot, strong taste. The old people were peppermint,
pillars of striped peppermint-stick, and a roof of clove, and such comfortable flavors, good for pain;
frosting that made it look like Milan Cathedral. but the old maids were lemon, i ,. .... and all
I '11 live here, and eat candy all day long, sorts of sour, bitter things, and were not eaten

VOL. XII.--2.



!; I


much. Lilly soon learned to know the characters
of her new friends by a single taste, and some
she never touched but once. The dear babies
melted in her mouth, and the delicately flavored
young ladies she was very fond of. Dr. Ginger
was called to her more than once when so much
candy made her teeth ache, and she found him a
very hot-tempered little man; but he stopped
the pain, so she was glad to see him.
A lime-drop boy and a little pink checkerberry
girl were her favorite playmates; and they had fine
times making mud-pies by scraping the chocolate
rocks and mixing this dust with honey from the
wells near by. These pies they could eat; and
Lilly thought this much better than throwing them
away, as she had to do at home. They had candy-
pulls very often, and made swings of long loops of
molasses candy, and birds'-nests with almond eggs,
out of which came birds that sang sweetly. They
played foot-ball with big bull's-eyes, sailed in sugar
boats on lakes of syrup, fished in rivers of molasses,
and rode the barley horses all over the country.
Lilly discovered that it never rained, but that it
white-sugared. There was no sun, as it would
have been too hot; but a large yellow lozenge
made a nice moon, and there were red and white
comfits for the stars.
All the people lived on sugar, and never quar-
reled. No one was ill; and if any one was
broken, as sometimes happened with so brittle
creatures, the fractured parts were just stuck to-
gether and all was right again. When they grew
old they became thinner and thinner, till there was
.*l.. .ri,.;, ,.; ,. Thenthefriendsoftheold
person bore him to the great golden urn, always full
of a certain fine syrup, which stood in their largest
temple; and into that he was dipped and dipped
till he was stout and strong again, and went home
as good as new, to enjoy himself for a long time.
This was very interesting to Lilly, and she went
to many such rejuvenations. But the weddings
were better still; for the lovely white brides were
so sweet that Lily longed to eat them. The feasts
were delicious; the guests all went in their best
clothes, and danced at the ball till they grew so
warm that half-a-dozen would stick together and
would have to be taken to the ice-cream room to
cool off. Then the happy pair would drive away
in a fine carriage with white horses to a new palace
in some other part of the country, and Lilly would
have another pleasant place to visit.
But by and by, when she had seen everything,
and eaten so many sweet things that at last she
longed for plain bread and butter, she began to be
cross, as children always are when they live on
candy; and the little people wished she would go
away, for they were afraid of her. No wonder,

for she would sometimes catch up a dear sugar baby
and eat it, or break some respectable old grand-
mamma all into bits because she reproved her for
her naughty ways. Finally, Lilly calmly sat down
on the biggest church, crushing it flat, and one day
in a pet, she even tried to poke the moon out of
the sky. The King ordered her to go home; but
she said, I wont! and, with a petulant motion,
she knocked off his head, crown and all.
Such a wail went up at this awful deed that she


r IN
S.i '
Ii, ,'


i .


ran away out of the city, fearing that some one would
put poison in her candy, since she had no other food.
I suppose I shall bring up somewhere if I keep
on walking; and I can't starve, though I hate the
sight of this horrid stuff," she said to herself, as she
hurried over the mountains of Gibraltar rock that
divided the city of Saccharissa behind her from the
great desert of brown sugar that lay beyond.
Lilly marched bravely across this desert for a long
time, and saw at last a great smoke in the sky,
smelt a spicy smell, and felt a hot wind blowing
toward her.
I wonder if there are sugar savages here, roast-
ing and eating some poor traveler like me," she
said, thinking of Robinson Crusoe and other wan-
derers in strange lands.
She crept carefully along till she saw a settle-
ment of little huts very like mushrooms, for they
were made of cookies set on lumps of brown sugar.
Queer people, looking as if made of gingerbread,
were working very busily around several stoves
which seemed to be baking away at a great rate.
I '11 creep nearer and see what sort of people
they are before show myself," thought Lilly, going
into a grove of spice trees and sitting down on a
stone which proved to be the plummy sort of cake
we used to call Brighton Rock.
Presently one of the tallest men came striding
toward the trees with a pan, evidently to get spice;
and before Lilly could run away he saw her.



Hullo, what do you want? he asked, staring
at her with his black-currant eyes, while he briskly
picked the bark off a cinnamon tree.
I 'm traveling, and should like to know what
place this is, if you please," answered Lilly, very
politely, as she was rather frightened.
Cake-land. Where did you come from ?
asked the gingerbread man, in a crisp tone of
I was blown into the Candy country, and have
been there a long time; but I grew tired of it and
ran away to find something better."
Sensible child and the man smiled till Lilly
thought his cheeks would crumble. You '11 like
it better here with us Cake-folk than with the lazy
Bonbons, who never work and are all for show.
They wont recognize us, though we all are related
through our grandparents Sugar and Molasses.
We are busy folk; so they turn up their noses
and don't speak when we meet at parties. Poor
creatures,- silly, and sweet, and unsubstantial!
I pity 'em."
"Could I make you a visit? I 'd like to see
how you live and what you do. I 'm sure it must
be interesting," said Lilly, picking herself up after
a tumble, having eaten nearly all the cake she
was sitting on, she was so hungry.
"Of course you can," said her friend. "Come
on! I can talk while I work."
And the funny gingerbread man trotted away
toward his kitchen, which was full of pans, rolling-
pins, and molasses jugs.
Sit down. I shall be at leisure as soon as this
batch is baked. There are still some wise people
down below who like gingerbread, and I have my
hands full," he said, dashing about, stirring, roll-
ing out, and slapping the brown dough into pans,
which he whisked into the oven and out again so
fast that Lilly knew there must be magic about it
Every now and then he threw her a delicious
cookie warm from the oven. She liked the queer
fellow, and soon began to ask all sorts of questions,
as she was very curious about this country.
"What is your name, sir?" she ventured, first.
Ginger-Snap," he answered, briskly.
Lilly thought it a good name; for he was very
quick, and she fancied he could be short and sharp
if he liked.
"Where does all this cake go?" she asked,
after she had watched a great many other kitchens
full of workers, who all were of different kinds of
cake, and each making its own sort.
"I '11 show you by and by," answered Snap,
beginning to pile up the heaps of gingerbread on
a little car that ran along a track leading to some
distant store-room, Lilly thought.

"Don't you become tired of doing this all the
time?" she asked.
Yes; but I wish to be promoted, and I never
shall be till I 've done my best, and won the prize
here," Snap explained.
Oh, tell me about it cried Lilly. VWhat is
the prize, and how are vou promoted ? Is this a
Yes; the prize for best gingerbread is a cake
of condensed yeast," said Snap. That puts a soul
into me, and I begin to rise until I am able to float
over the hills yonder into the blessed land of bread,
and be one of the happy creatures who are always
wholesome, always needed, and without which the
world below would be in a bad way."
Dear me! that is the queerest thing I 've
heard yet! said Lilly. But I don't wonder you
want to go; I 'm tired of sweets myself, and just
long for a good piece of bread, though I always
used to want cake and candy at home."
Ah, my dear, you '11 learn a great deal here;
and you are lucky not to have fallen into the
clutches of Giant Dyspepsia, who always gets
people if they eat too much of such rubbish as
cake and candy, and scorn wholesome bread. I
leave my ginger behind when I go, and become
white and round and beautiful, as you will see.
The Gingerbread family have never been as foolish
as some of the other cakes. Wedding-cake is the
worst; such extravagance in the way of wine and
spice and fruit I never saw, and such a mess to eat
when it 's done I don't wonder it makes people
sick; serves 'em right." And Snap -,I down a
pan with a bang that made Lilly jump.
Sponge-cake is n't bad, is it? Mamma lets
me eat it, but I like frosted pound-cake better," she
said, looking over to the next kitchen, where piles
of that sort of cake were being iced.
Poor stuff. No substance. Ladies' fingers
will do for babies, but Pound has too much butter
to be wholesome. Let it alone, and eat cookies
or seed-cakes, my dear. Now, come along; I 'm
ready." And Snap trundled away his car-load at
a great pace.
Lilly ran behind to pick up whatever fell, and
looked about her as she went, for this was certainly
a very queer country. Lakes of eggs all beaten
up, and hot springs of saleratus foamed here and
there, ready for use. The earth was brown sugar
or ground spice; and the only fruits were raisins,
dried currants, citron, and lemon peel. It was a
very busy place; for every one cooked all the time,
and never failed and never seemed tired, though
they were always so hot that they only wore sheets
of paper for clothes. There were piles of it to put
over the cake, so it should n't burn; and they
made cooks' white caps and aprons of it, which



looked very fine. A large clock made of a flat
pancake, with cloves to mark the hours and two
toothpicks for hands, showed them how long to
bake things; and in one place an ice wall was
built around a lake of butter, which they cut in
lumps as they wanted it.
Here we are. Now, stand aside while I pitch
'em down," said Snap, stopping at last before a
hole in the ground where a dumb-waiter, with a
name over it, hung ready.
There were many holes all about, and many
dumb-waiters, each with a special name ; and Lilly
was amazed when she read Weber," Copeland,"
"Dooling,''* and others, which she knew very
Over Snap's place was the name Newmarch,"
and Lilly said: "Why, that's where Mamma gets
her hard gingerbread, and Weber's is where we
go for ice-cream. Do you make cake for them ? "
"Yes, but no one knows it. It's one of the

S_ .
I -'- . -;-' - -
i -


'} ... L' '* -

.- 1 P .


secrets of the trade. We cook for all the confec-
tioners, and people think the good things come
out of the cellars under their shops. Good joke,
is n't it ? And Snap laughed till a crack came
in his neck and made him cough.
Lilly was so surprised that she sat down on a
warm queen's-cake that happened to be near, and
watched Snap send down load after load of ginger-
bread to be eaten by children, who would have
liked it much better if they had only known, as did
she, where it all came from.
As she sat on the queen's cake there came
up through the nearest hole, which was marked
"Copeland," the clatter of many spoons, the
smell of many dinners, and the sound of many
voices calling:-" One vanilla, two strawberries,
and a Charlotte Russe"; Three stews, cup coffee,
dry toast" ; Roast chicken and apple without! "

Dear me it seems as if I were there," said
Lilly, longing to hop down, but afraid of the bump
at the other end.
'That's done. Come along. I'11 ride you back,"
called Snap, :ii. ;r ri, last cookie after the dumb-
waiter as it went slowly out of sight with its spicy
I wish you 'd teach me to cook. It must be
great fun, and Mamma wants me to learn; only our
cook hates to have me around the kitchen, and she
is so cross that I don't like to try, at home," said
Lilly as she went trundling back on Snap's car.
Better wait till you go to Bread-land, and
learn to make bread. It's a great art, and worth
knowing. Don't waste your time on cake, though
plain gingerbread is n't bad to have in the house.
I '11 teach you that in a jiffy, if the clock does n't
strike my hour too soon," answered Snap, helping
her down.
What hour ? inquired Lilly.
"Why, the hour of my freedom. I shall never
know when I've done my task until I'm called
by the chimes and go to get my soul," answered
Snap, turning his currant eyes anxiously toward
the clock.
I hope you will have time," said Lilly as she
fell to work with all her might, after Snap had
fitted her with a paper apron and a cap like his.
It was not hard; for when she was about to
make a mistake, a spark flew out of the fire and
burnt her in time to remind her to look at the
recipe, which was hung up before her on a sheet
of gingerbread in a frame of pie-crust; the direc-
tions had been written on it while it was soft and
baked in. The third sheet she made came out of the
oven spicy, light, and brown; and Snap, giving it
one poke with his finger, said, "That 's all right.
Now you know. Here 's your reward."
He handed her a recipe-book made of thin
sheets of sugar gingerbread held together by a gel-
atine binding, with her name stamped on the back,
and each leaf crimped with a cake-cutter in a
very delightful manner.
Lilly was charmed with it, but had no time to
read all it contained; for just then the clock be-
gan to strike, and a chime of bells to ring:

" Gingerbread,
Go to the head.
Your task is done:
A soul is won.
Take it and go
Where muffins grow,
Where sweet loaves rise
To the very skies,
And biscuits fair

Perfume the air.
Away, away!
Make no delay;
Into the Flour
Sea, plunge this hour.
Safe in your breast
Let the yeast-cake rest,
Till you rise in joy,
A white-bread boy!"

"Ha, ha! I'mfree! I'm free !" cried Snap,
catching up a square silver-covered cake that
seemed to fall from somewhere above: and run-

* Well-known Boston caterers.



ning to the great white sea of flour, he dashed in,
head first, holding the yeast-cake clasped to his
breast as if his life depended on it.
Lilly watched breathlessly, while a curious work-
ing and bubbling went on, as if Snap were tumbling
about down there like a small earthquake. The
other cake-folk stood with her upon the shore;
for it was a great event, and all were glad that the
dear fellow had been promoted so soon. Suddenly
a cry was heard, and on the farther side of the sea
up rose a beautiful white .figure. It waved its hand
as if bidding all "Good-bye," and ran over the
hills so fast they had only time to see how plump
and fair it was, with a little knob on the top of
its head like a crown.
"He 's gone to the happy Land of Bread, and we
shall miss him; but we '11 follow his example and
soon find him again," said a gentle Sponge-cake,
with a sigh, as they all went back to their work;
while Lilly hurried after Snap, eager to see the new
country, which she was sure must be the best of all.
A delicious odor of fresh bread blew up from
the valley as she stood on the hill-top and looked
down on the peaceful scene below. Fields of yel-
low grain waved in the breeze; hop-vines grew
from tree to tree; and the white sails of many


windmills whirled around as they ground the dif-
ferent grains into fresh, sweet meal, for the loaves
of bread with which the houses were built and the
streets paved, and which in many shapes formed
the people, furniture, and animals. A river of
milk flowed through the peaceful land, and fount-
ains of yeast rose and fell with a pleasant foam
and fizz. The ground was a mixture of many
meals, and the paths were golden Indian, which
gave a very gay look to the scene. Buckwheat
flowers bloomed on their rosy stems, and tall corn-

stalks rustled their leaves in the warm air that came
from the ovens hidden in the hill-sides; for bread
needs a slow fire, and an obliging volcano did the
baking there.
What a lovely place !" cried Lilly, feeling the
charm of the home-like landscape, in spite of the
funny, plump people moving about.
Two of these figures came running to meet her
as she slowly walked down the yellow path from
the hill. One was a golden boy, with a beaming
face; the other a little girl in a shiny brown cloak,
who looked as if she would taste very nice. They
each put a warm hand into Lilly's, and the boy
said: "We are glad to see you. Muffin told us
you were coming."
I thank you. But who is Muffin ?" asked Lilly,
feeling as if she had seen both these little people
before, and liked them. The boy answered her
question immediately:
"He was Ginger-Snap once, but he 's a Muffin
now. We begin in that way, and work by degrees
up to the perfect loaf. My name is Johnny-Cake,
and here 's Sally Lunn. You know us; so come
on and have a race."
Lilly burst out laughing at the idea of playing
with these old friends of hers; and away ran all
three as fast as they could
tear, down the hill, over a
bridge, into the middle of
the village, where they
stopped, panting, and sat
down on some very soft
rolls to rest.
What do you all do
here?" asked Lilly, when
-;' she got her breath again.
"We farm, we study,
S" ,,. '- we bake, we brew, and
are merry as crickets all
,, I'-,- .----day long. It 's school-
'- time now, and we must
.- .go; will you come?" said
Sally, jumping up as if
she liked going to school.
"Our schools are not
like yours; we study only
two things grain and yeast. I think you '11 like
it. We have yeast to-day, and the experiments are
very jolly," added Johnny, trotting off to a tall
brown tower of rye and Indian bread, where the
school was kept.
Lilly never liked to go to school, but she was
ashamed to own it; so she went along with Sally,
and was so amused with all she saw thai she was
glad she had come. The brown loaf was hollow,
and had no roof; and when she asked why they
used a ruin, Sally told her to wait and see why they



chose strong walls and plenty of room overhead.
All around was a circle of very small biscuits like
cushions, and on these the Bread-children sat.
A square loaf in the middle was the teacher's
desk, and on it lay an ear of wheat, with several
bottles of yeast well corked up. The teacher was

-_ --. --

.- -
'~ ~ : : --y


a pleasant, plump lady from Vienna, very wise,
and so famous for her good bread that she was a
Professor of Grainology.
When all were seated, she began her lesson with
the wheat ear, and told all about it in so interest-
ing a way that Lilly felt as if she had never before
known anything about the bread she ate. The
experiments with the yeast were quite exciting,-
for Fraulein Pretzel showed them how it would work
until it blew the cork out, and went fizzing up to the
sky, if it were kept too long; how it would turn sour
or flat, and spoil the bread if care were not taken to
use it at just the right moment; and how too
much would cause the loaf to rise until there was no
substance to it.
The children were very bright; for they were
fed on the best kinds of oatmeal and Graham
bread, with very little white or hot cakes to spoil
their young stomachs. Hearty, happy boys and girls
they were, and their yeasty souls were very lively
in them; for they danced and sang, and seemed
as bright and gay as if acidity, heaviness, and
mold were quite unknown.
Lilly was very happy with them, and when school
was done raced home with Sally, and ate for dinner
the best bread and milk that she had ever tasted.
In the afternoon Johnny took her to the corn-field,
and showed her how they kept the growing ears
free from mildew and worms. Then she went to
the bake-house, and here she found her old friend
Muffin hard at work making Parker House rolls,
for he was so good a cook that he was set to work
at once on the lighter kinds of bread.

Well, is n't this better than Saccharissa or
even Cake-land?" he asked, as he rolled and
folded his bits of dough with a dab of butter tucked
"Ever so much I cried Lilly. "I feel better
already, and I mean to learn all I can. Mamma will
be so pleased if I can make good bread when I go
home She is rather old-fashioned, and wishes me
to be a good housekeeper. I never could think
bread interesting, then, but I do, now; and John-
ny's mother is going to teach me to make Indian
cakes to-morrow."
Glad to hear it !" said Snap. Learn all you
can, and tell other people how to make healthy
bodies and happy souls by eating good plain food.
Not like this, though these rolls are better than
cake. I have to work my way up to the perfect
loaf, you know; and then, oh, then, I shall be a
happy thing "
"What happens then? Do you go on to some
other wonderful place?" asked Lilly, as Muffin
paused, with a smile on his face.
"Yes; I am eaten by some wise, good human
being, and become a part of him or her. That is
my happy destiny; for I may nourish a poet
and help him sing, or feed a good woman who
makes the world better for being in it, or be
crumbed into the golden porringer of a baby prince

.-i .


who is to rule a kingdom. Is n't that a noble hope
to have, and an end worth working for? asked
Muffin, in a tone that made Lilly feel as if she
had some sort of fine yeast inside her, which was
setting her brain to work with quite new thoughts.



Yes, it is. I suppose that all things are made
for some such purpose, if we only knew it; and
people should be glad to do anything to help the
world along, if only by making good bread in a
kitchen," answered Lilly in a sober way.
She staid in Bread-land a long time, and en-
joyed and learned a great deal that she never for-
got. But at last, when she had made the perfect
loaf, she wished to go home, that her mother might
see it and taste it.
"I 've put a great deal of myself into it, and I' d
love to think I had given her strength or pleasure
by my work," she said, as she and Sally stood
looking at the handsome loaf.
You can go whenever you like; just take the
bread in your hands and wish three times, and
you '11 be wherever you desire to be. I 'm sorry
you must go, but I don't wonder you want to see
your mother. Don't forget what you have learned,
and you will always be glad that you came to us,"
said Sally, kissing her good-bye.
"IWhere is Muffin? I can't go without seeing

him-my dear old friend," answered Lilly, look-
ing around for him.
He is here," said Sally, touching the loaf. He
was ready to go, and chose to pass into your bread
rather than any other; for he said he loved you, and
would be glad to help feed so good a little girl."
How kind of him I I must be careful to grow
wise and excellent, or he will be disappointed and
will have lived in vain," said Lilly, touched by his
Then bidding them all farewell, she hugged her
loaf close, wished three times to be at her own
home, and like a flash she was there.
Whether her friends believed the wonderful tale
of her adventures, I can not tell; but I know that
she was a nice little housekeeper from that day,
and made bread so good that other girls came to
learn of her. She also grew from a sickly, fretful
child into a fine, strong, healthy woman, because
she ate very little cake and candy, except at Christ-
mas-time, when the oldest and the wisest of us
like to make a short visit to Candy-land.



MY neighbor wears a cotton dress; -
She comes with marigold and cress
All dripping, coiled together.
The willow basket in her hand
Is bright with water and with sand,
This happy, happy weather!
"Who 'llbuy?" Who would not buy?
They grew beside an April stream,
Beneath an April sky !
Again I meet her, flushed and brown,
With braid and bonnet slipping down;
She looks upon me gayly.
She knows the grassy upland farm
Where berries ripen high and warm,
And redden deeper daily !
"Who 'll buy?" Who would not buy?
She found them in the summer fields,
Beneath a summer sky!
To-day she enters at my gate;
She steps inside the sill to wait;
And so once more I find her.
Alack! the whirling leaves are brown,-
And he who shook the chestnuts down
Is standing there behind her I
"Who '11 buy?" Who would not buy?
-They found them in the autumn woods,
Beneath a frosty sky!





A NUMBER of years ago a party of English
naturalists, with several native attendants, pene-
trated a previously unexplored portion of India for
the purpose of establishing stations, and eventually
opening up a country very rich in natural advan-
tages. To the ordinary observer, the slow progress
of the party and the evident caution taken in the
march would have seemed unnecessary except in
time of war and when proceeding against a vigilant
enemy; but the mission was one of peace, and all
their care and precaution were taken to guard
against the dangerous animals that infested the
jungle. The most dreaded of all were the tiger
and the cobra, and so common were these foes, that
even in the neighborhood of the towns and cities
thousand of persons annually fell victims to them.
For days they had been penetrating a wooded
region, but one evening they came upon a clear,

undulating stretch of country that seemed, in the
opinion of the officer in charge, favorable for the
object of their trip; so a halt was ordered, the brush
was cleared away, great patches that might have
concealed the deadly cobra were burned, and the
tents were pitched. In a few days the workmen
had commenced their task of erecting a substantial
building. It was necessary to have a large and
deep cellar for the reception of certain stores, and
in a short time a deep excavation was made.
The earth was dry and sandy, and was worked
with ease. The absence of large stones was
noticed; indeed, there was found no hard sub-
stance that would have interested a geologist. But
late in the afternoon of the first day's work, one of
the natives struck his pick against resisting sub-
stance. Another blow, and the implement broke
through into a hollow space. The earth being




scraped away, a large smooth object was exposed,
of so strange an appearance that the attention
of the commanding officer was called to it. He
at once pronounced it a bone of some kind.
The fact that they had come upon the grave of
a strange animal created great excitement, and all
hands went to work clearing away the sand. As
they progressed, their wonder and amazement
increased also; their discovery began to assume
the shape of a dome, and appeared to be rounded
off. Finally, when four feet or more of sand had
been cleared away, they saw a hut-shaped object,
that seemed, through the hole made by the pick, to
be partly hollow. The natives one and all there-
upon declared it a hut, or house, built by some of

ing to an age long past. The work progressed
rapidly; and though when exposed to the sun
some parts broke in pieces, the entire shell was
successfully uncovered and finally a complete res-
toration of it was made.
The shell was that of a land-tortoise (called
by naturalists Colossochelys Atlas). Hundreds of
thousands of years ago the monster had lived and
died;- and the dust, sand, and vegetation had
gradually covered it up and preserved it as a monu-
ment of the animal wonders of that ancient time.
So enormous was the shell that when the sand
and dirt were removed, several of the men crawled
into it; in fact, it might have been used as a
house, and on a subsequent occasion was so used


t -r


their ancestors, that had in course of time been by a party which took refuge in it during a sudden
covered by the earth. Others thought it one of shower. Unfortunately, a heavy storm finally de-
the dwelling-places of a strange people who lived stroyed the great turtle-shell. Others, however,
under the earth; but to the English naturalists were discovered in different localities, and from
there was a more simple explanation, for the curi- one a restoration was made which was placed in the
ous house was the shell of a gigantic turtle belong- collection of the British Museum. It represents




the 1 .1I of a young land-tortoise, and measures
ten feet in length, twenty-five feet in horizontal
i-if: i and fifteen feet in girth in a verti-
cal direction.
The was a land-turtle that fed
upon vegetation, and in the Galapagos Islands,
its modern representatives, at least in regard to
size, are found to-day. These islands, numbering
about fifteen in .. are situated in the Pacific
. ... under the equator, and about six
hundred miles west of Ecuador. They were first
discovered'. "" Spaniards in the beginning of the

one of them is approached, it draws in legs, head,
and tail, and falls with a loud hiss. If now the
captor is disposed to ride, as was Mr. Darwin, he
can mount upon the turtle's back, and be carried
along at a fair rate of speed.
Though the great land-tortoise was the largest
turtle of India, there has been found in our own
country the remains of a sea-turtle that may have
exceeded it in point of size. It was found near
Fort Wallace, in western Kansas. The discoverer
first observed the large bony shields projecting
from a bluff near Butte Creek. They were care-

';',~~::,,''. I '"'* : 'I.
I 'l I' ''', ; 1 1 1 1 U l.

hi I ~ ' ,
:1" :

- -f

7 7, V
- j''~


sixteenth century; and from the numbers of gi-
S.- turtles found .1. .. those early voyagers
named the I, ; i ." which is the Span-
ish name for tortoise. All over the islands are
many extinct craters, some being mere elevations,
while others are miles in circumference.
N(ecxt to .: -. he visitor is attracted by the
network of '. I ,' or lanes that lead over
many of the islands, These are the tracks of the
great -,. of which there are five totally differ-
ent species, upon different islands.
T ;.. up the i these turtles are
;, i.. a -great dor'i I perhaps twelve
feet long from head ir I. with shells six feet long,
and weighing six or seven hundred pounds. When

fully taken out and brought to Philadelphia, where
the restoration was made. The fore-flippers alone
were nearly five feet long, while its expanse from
the tip of one extended flipper to another was
about seventeen feet. The accompanying illus-
tration gives an ideal view of this giant. But
how did this sea-turtle become buried in a bluff
in the State of Kansas ? A natural supposition
would be that Kansas is in the bed of a former
ocean, and so it is. Ages ago, in what is called
by geologists the Cretaceous Period, that part of
the world was the bed of a great sea, in which the
great turtle swam, together with other monsters
of curious shape and appearance. Gradually the
crust of the earth was raised, the water fell back,


or became inclosed, and left the inhabi
the Cretaceous Sea high and dry, to be
by the earth and preserved for us to stu
The shores of this ancient ocean are easi
and followed by geologists. Its extent h
traced on our Western plains
by the bleaching and disin-
tegrating remains that have
been found, upon and be-
neath the surface. Professor
Cope, who has described
many of the animals that
lived and died in that great
ocean, says:
"Far out on the expanse
of this ancient sea might
have been seen a huge snake-
like form, which rose above
the surface and stood erect,
with tapering throat and ar-
row-shaped head, or swayed
about, describing a huge
circle above the water. Then, --: -
as it plunged into the depths, -
nought would be visible but --
the foam caused by the
disappearing mass of life.
Should several have ap- -
peared together, we can-
easily imagine tall, flexible
forms rising to the height of
the masts of a fishing-fleet,
or, like snakes, twisting
and knotting themselves to-
gether. This extraordinary
neck-for such it was-rose from a bod
phantine proportions, and a tail of the
pattern balanced it behind. This create
a great sea-reptile. Like the snake-bird
ida, it probably often swam many feet bh

surface; and it could raise its head to the distant
air for a breath, and then, withdrawing it, could
explore the depths forty feet below, without alter-
ing the position of its body."
In other localities, huge shells have been
found strewn about; in fact, during that ancient

y of ele- period all animal creatures seem to have at-
serpent- tained gigantic proportions, and, like the great
:ure was tortoise, to have been so large that their very
of Flor- unwieldy size may have caused their death and
elow the final extinction.




(A Series of Brief Papers concerning the Great i2usicians.)



as a composer and as a critic, was born at Zwickau, a
little il. '.: of Lower Saxony, June 8, 181 His
father was a bookseller; he had some talent as a
writer, and encouraged his son's love of art. His
genius showed itself early, and when only seven,
his father allowed him to study music under the
church organist, who was very much impressed by
the child's power. In his eleventh year he was
sent to the high school, where he remained till
1828, when he went to Leipsic to study law. His
heart was absorbed in his music, but his father
was dead and his mother would not consent to
his adopting music as a profession. He found the
study of law very unattractive, and during his first
half year at school devoted his time to reading
poetry and studying music. He made the acquain-
tance of a number of young men who, like him-
self, were devoted to music; they met in Schumann's
rooms every evening, where they discussed and per-
formed various compositions. In I829 Schumann
went to Heidelberg to study law, but here, too,
all his time and enthusiasm were for his much
loved music. He frequently practiced seven hours
a day.
The time had now come for Schumann to grad-
uate and determine his profession. Every emo-
tion within him prompted him to adopt a musical
career, but his mother was determined he should
choose the law. She felt how few achieve success in
so difficultand uncertain a profession as music, and
she feared her son would be unable to support him-
self. Schumann, on the otherhand, feared nothing
so much as to be untrue to his highest light, and
that light pointed steadily toward music. Money
was as nothing to him if only he could devote him-
self to his art; and he had faith in himself, he
felt that he should be successful. He knew that
it would require steady and persistent toil, but he
believed that in the end he would make a musician
of himself. Finally, he persuaded his mother to
place the decision in the hands of Friedrich Wieck,
a friend and a well-known musician, Schumann
agreeing that if, after six years of work at the
piano, he gave no sign of success, he would turn
to the practice of law. Wieck, after warning
Schumann of the incessant and almost discour-
aging work which lay before him, advised him, if
he were willing to brave all this, to become a

musician. Schumann now made his home at
Leipsic, where he attacked his work with
great enthusiasm, practicing all day. In his
anxiety to attain success, he invented a machine
which was intended for the equal training of every
finger; by this contrivance, his third finger re-
mained up in a vertical position, while he played
with the others; but the tendons became so
strained that he lamed the troublesome finger, and
all thought of a career as a pianist had to be put
aside. Poor Schumann after all his struggles and
sacrifices, was this to be the end ? We can ii 1;1 _-
ine the gloom which oppressed him, as he felt that
his brilliant hopes were crushed, and everything
pointed to the law. But music claimed him; he
could not escape, and now he began to compose.
He had always been rather self-willed, and suffered
from having no one to guide his musical education.
Unfortunately he had almost neglected musical
composition, but now he set about to repair his mis-
take. He shouldhave grown up in this part of his
art, and he was never quite compensated for the
loss of early training.
In 1834, Schumann and some of his friends started
a journal which was to be an aid to both music and
musicians. Its aim was to educate the public
taste in music by encouraging everything that was
good, and condemning everything that was bad in
art. Schumann edited it for ten years, and wrote
many articles for it; he confirmed the reputation
of many artists whose works were already known,
and brought many composers, among them Chopin
and Berlioz, to the notice of the public. His gen-
erous encouragement of young artists was especially
beneficial, and no musician possessed of talent was
too young or too obscure for his kindly notice.
In 1836, Schumann fell in love with Clara
Wieck a beautiful woman and brilliant genius.
Her father objected to her marrying Schumann on
account of the uncertainty of his income. Schumann
was as yet almost unknown to the people. His
compositions were appreciated by a circle of art-
ists, but he reached only to the few who were culti-
vated enough to understand him. He now made
every effort to win a reputation. Clara Wieck's
influence over him was already seen in his music,
for he turned his attention to song-writing, and
wrote 138 songs, all of which he tells us were
inspired by her. In 1840 they were married, and
he settled down to a quiet, beautiful life, bro-
ken only by his ill-health. His wife appreciated



his genius and understood and sympathized with
all his thoughts and aspirations. In 1844 they
made a concert tour through Russia, when the wife
played her husband's compositions. They were
received everywhere with admiration. On their
return, they settled at Dresden, where he gave his
attention to his symphonies; but Schumann now
grew very melancholy and eccentric; he had all
kinds of delusions; but he recovered from the
attack and went on composing. In 1850 he was
appointed City Musical Director at Dusseldorf.
He and his wife went on several concert tours,
but he found plenty of time to compose. His
creative powers had never before seemed so active;
he could not help composing. In 1851 he had a
return of ill-health. He became very gloomy, and
in one of his despondent fits he threw himself into
the Rhine, but was rescued and carried home. He

was then removed to a private asylum, where he
died in 1856. His life had a very pathetic ending;
but had it not been for the intelligent care of his
wife he would probably have fallen a victim to the
disease much earlier.
In comparing Schumann's work with that of
other composers, we should never forget the great
services he rendered to music in his writings; some
even consider him greater as a critic than as a
composer. He was not appreciated during his
life. His musical ideas were in direct contrast to
those of the school then popular, led by Mendels-
sohn. The latter's music is always clear and elegant
in form, like a finely-cut cameo, while Schumann
cared more for the feeling, or emotion, and gave
little attention to the finish. He wished only to
present something warm and striking, and took
no pains to put it into any special shape.


A SPRIGHTLY little lady riding in a city car,
Alighted at a music store and purchased a guitar,
And she promptly made arrangements to take lessons every day
From a il!..n:-l-. ered Spaniard who could beautifully play.

" I 'm quite a favorite, it seems, among the cats," said she,
" For every night a motley band come serenading me,
But I 'm grieved to say their voices, although powerful and clear,
Are decidedly discordant to the cultivated ear;



"I open wide my window and I ii.f make pretence
To enjoy the little arias they warble on the fence,
And, when the last notes die away, to merit their regard,
I scatter little dainties that they like around the yard.

SBut, though I 'm sure the poor things try to do their very best,
You can't imagine how much they disturb a body's rest,
And I 'd certainly be justified in telling them to "scat,"
But I could n't hurt the feelings of a little pussy-cat !

So I 'm going to take lessons with the earnest hope that I
Can accompany their voices and instruct them by and by,
For they seem to be ambitious, and material so good,
If rightly trained, I 'm very sure, would charm the neighborhood!"



UNCLE and Aunt were a very dear and rather
queer old couple, who lived in one of the small
villages which dot the long indented coast of Long
Island Sound. -It was four miles to the railway, so
the village had not waked up from its colonial sleep
on the building of the line,- as had other villages
nearer to its course,-but remained the same
shady, quiet place, with never a steam-whistle nor
a manufactory bell to break its repose.
Sparlings-Neck was the name of the place. No
hotel had ever been built there, so no summer
visitors came to give it a fictitious air of life for a
few weeks of the year. The century-old elms
waved above the gambrel roofs of the white,
green-blinded houses, and saw the same names on
door-plates and knockers that had been there
when the century began : "Benjamin," "Wilson,"
"Kirkland," Benson," Reinike,"- there they
all were, with here and there the prefix of a dis-
tinguishing initial as, J. L. Benson," Eleaser
Wilson," or "Paul Reinike." Paul Reinike, fourth
of the name who had dwelt in that home, was
the "Uncle" of this story.
Uncle was tall and gaunt and gray, of the tra-
ditional New England type. He had a shrewd, dry
face, with wise little wrinkles about the corners of
the eyes, and just a twinkle of fun and a quiet kind-
liness in the lines of the mouth. People said the
squire was a master-hand at a bargain. And so he
was; but if he got the uttermost penny out of all
legitimate business transactions, he was always
ready to give that penny, and many more, when-
ever deserving want knocked at his door, or a
good work to be done showed itself distinctly as
needing help.

Aunt, too, was a New Englander, but of a
slightly different type. She was the squire's cousin
before she became his wife; and she had the family
traits, but with a difference. She was spare, but
she was also very small, and had a distinct air of
authority which made her like a fairy -....1i .h.:i.
She was very quiet and comfortable in her ways,
but she was full of "faculty," that invaluable
endowment which covers such a multitude of
capacities. Nobody's bread or pies were equal
to Aunt's. Her preserves never fermented; her
cranberry always jellied; her sponge-cake rose to
heights unattained by her neighbors', and staid
there, instead of ignominiously "flopping" when
removed from the oven, like the sponge-cake of
inferior housekeepers. 7 .:. ,i.,,. in the old
home moved like clock-work. Meals were ready
to a minute; the mahogany furniture glittered
like dark-red glass; the tall clock in the entry
was never a tick out of the way; and yet Aunt
never appeared to be particularly busy. To one
not conversant with her methods, she gave the
impression of being generally at leisure, sitting
in her rocking-chair in the keeping-room,"-hem-
ming cap-strings, and reading Emerson, for Aunt
liked to keep up with the thought of the day.
Hesse declared that either she sat up and did
things after the rest of the family had gone to bed,
or else that she kept a Brownie to work for her;
but Hesse was a saucy child, and Aunt only smiled
indulgently at these sarcasms.
Hesse was the only young thing in the shabby
old home; for, though it held many handsome
Ti;..-, it was shabby. Even the cat was a sober
matron. The old white mare had seen almost half



as many years as her master. The very rats and
mice looked gray and bearded when you caught a
glimpse of them. But Hesse was youth incarnate,
and as refreshing in the midst of the elderly still-
ness which surrounded her as a frolicsome puff of
wind, or a dancing ray of sunshine. She had
come to live with Uncle and Aunt when she was

York had taken place when Hesse was about fif-
teen; now she was to make another. And just as
this story opens, she and Aunt were i i", over
her wardrobe for the occasion.
"I shall give you this China-crape shawl," said
Aunt decisively.
Hesse looked admiringly but a little doubtfully

I-" Ie-1

':-.. ...- *


.. .- -- t..- .- ,.

r l
!,i"" = 'i'-
,1 ;. .::. -i



ten years old; she was now nearly eighteen, and
she loved the quaint house and its quainter
occupants with her whole heart.
Hesse's odd name, which had been her mother's,
her grandmother's, and her great-grandmother's
before her, was originally borrowed from that of
the old German town whence the first Reinike had
emigrated to America. She had not spent quite
all of the time at Sparlings-Neck since her mother
died. There had been two years at boarding-
school, broken by long vacations, and once she had
made a visit in New York, to her mother's cousin,
Mrs. De Lancey, who considered herself a sort of
joint guardian over Hesse, and was apt to send a
frock or a hat, now and then as the fashions changed,
that the child might not look exactly like Noah,
and Mrs. Noah, and the rest of the people in the
ark," she told her daughter. This visit to New

at the soft, clinging fabric, rich with masses of yel-
low-white embroidery.
I am afraid girls don't wear shawls now," she
ventured to say.
M'y dear," said Aunt, "a handsome thing is
always handsome; never mind if it is not the last
novelty, put it on, all the same. The Reinikes can
wear what they like, I hope They certainly know
better what is proper than these oil-and-shoddy
people in New York that we read about in the news-
papers. Now, here is my India shawl,"- unpin-
ning a towel, and shaking out a quantity of dried
rose-leaves,-" I led you this; not give it, you
Thank you, Aunt, dear." Hesse was secretly
wondering what Cousin Julia and the girls would
say to the India shawl.
"You must have a pelisse of some sort," con-


tinued her aunt; "but perhaps your Cousin De
Lancey can see to that. Though I might have
Miss Iewis for a day, and cut over that handsome
camlet of mine. It 's been lying there in camphor
for fifteen years, of no use to anybody."
Oh, but that would be a pity cried Hesse,
with innocent wiliness. "The girls are all wear-
ing little short jackets now, trimmed with fur or
something like that; it would be a pity to cut up
that great cloak to make a little bit of a wrap for
"Fur," said her aunt, catching at the word;
"the very thing How will this do? dragging
out of the camphor-chest an enormous cape, which
seemed made of tortoise-shell cats, so yellow and
brown and mottled was it. Wont this do for
a trimming, or would you rather have it as it is ? "
"I shall have to ask Cousin Julia," replied
Hesse. "Oh, Aunt, dear, don't give me any
more You really must n't! You are robbing
yourself of everything For Aunt was pulling
out yards of yellow lace, lengths of sash ribbon of
faded colors and wonderful thickness, strange, old-
fashioned trinkets,-
"And here 's your grandmother's wedding-
gown,-and mine! she said; you had better
take them both. I have little occasion for dress
here, and I like you to have them, Hesse. Say
no more about it, my dear."
There was never any gainsaying Aunt, so Hesse
departed for New York with her trunk full of
antiquated finery, sage-green and "pale-colored"
silks that would almost stand alone; Mechlin
lace, the color of a spring buttercup; hair rings
set with pearls, and brooches such as no one
sees, nowadays, outside of a curiosity shop. Great
was the amusement which the unpacking caused
in Madison Avenue.
Yet the things are really handsome," said
Mrs. De Lancey, surveying the fur cape critically.
"This fur is queer and old-timey, but it will make
quite an effective trimming. As for this crape
shawl, I have an id.a,- you shall have an over-
dress made of it, Hesse. It will be lovely with a silk
slip; you may laugh, Pauline, but you will wish
you had one like it when you see Hesse in hers.
It only needs a little taste in adapting, and for-
tunately these quaint old things are just coming
into fashion."
Pauline, a pretty girl,--modern to her finger-
tips-held up a square brooch, on which, under
pink glass, shone a complication of initials in gold,
the whole set in a narrow twisted rim of pearls and
garnets, and asked :
How do you propose to adapt 'this, Mamma ?"
"Oh!" cried Hesse, I would n't have that
'adapted' for the world. It must stay just as it is.

It belonged to my grandmother, and it has a
love-story connected with it."
"A love-story oh, tell it to us," said Grace,
the second of the De Lancey girls.
Why," explained Hesse ; you see, my grand-
mother was once engaged to a man named John
Sherwood. He was a 'beautiful young man,' Aunt
says; but very soon after they were engaged, he fell
ill with consumption, and had to go to Madeira. He
gave Grandmamma that pin before he sailed. See,
there are his initials, 'J. S.,' and hers, 'H.
L. R.,' for Hesse Lee Reinike, you know. He
gave her a copy of 'Thomas a Kempis' besides,
with 'The Lord do so to me, and more also, if
aught but death part thee and me,' written on
the title-page. I have the book, too ; Uncle gave
it to me for my own."
And did he ever come back ? asked Pauline.
No," answered Hesse. He died in Madeira,
and was buried there; and quite a long time
afterward, Grandmamma married my grandfather.
I 'm so fond of that queer old brooch, I like to
wear it sometimes."
How does it look ? demanded Pauline.
You shall see for yourself, for I '11 wear it to-
night," said Hesse.
And when Hesse came down to dinner with the
quaint ornament shining against her white neck on
a bit of black velvet ribbon, even Pauline owned
that the effect was not bad--queer, of course, and
unlike other people's things, but certainly not bad.
Mrs. De Lancey had a quick eye for character, and
shenotedwith satisfaction that her young cousinwas
neither vexed at nor affected by her cousins' criti-
cisms on her outfit. Hesse saw for herself that her
things were unusual and not in the prevailing
style, but she knew them to be handsome of their
kind, and she loved them as a part of her old
home. There was, too, in her blood a little of
the family pride which had made Aunt say,
"The Reinikes know what is proper, I hope."
So she wore her odd fur and made-over silks and
the old laces with no sense of being ill-dressed, and
that very fact carried it off" and made her seem
well dressed. Cousin Julia saw that her wardrobe
was sufficiently modernized not to look absurd or
attract too much attention, and there was some-
thing in Hesse's face and figure which suited the
character of her clothes. People took notice of
this or that, now and again,--said it was pretty,
and where could they get such a thing?-and,
flattery of flatteries, some of the girls copied her
effects !
Estelle Morgan says, if you don't mind, she
means to have a ball-dress exactly like that blue
one of yours," Pauline told her one day.
Oh, how funny Aunt's wedding-gown made



up with surahs cried Hesse. Do you remember
how you laughed at the idea, Polly, and said it
would be horrid? "
Yes, and I did think so," said Polly; but
somehow it looks very nice on you. When it is
hanging up in the closet, I don't care much for it."
Well, luckily, no one need look at it when it is
hanging up in the closet," retorted Hesse, laugh-
Her freshness, her sweet temper, and bright
capacity for enjoyment had speedily made Hesse

Mrs. De Lancey had written to beg for a little ex-
tension. Gayeties thickened as Lent drew near,
and there was one special fancy dress ball at Mrs.
Shuttleworth's, about which Hesse had heard a
great deal, and which she had secretly regretted to
lose. She was, therefore, greatly delighted at a
letter from Aunt, giving her leave to stay a fort-
night longer.
Uncle will come for you on Shrove-Tuesday,"
wrote her Aunt. "He has some business to
attend to, so he will stay over till Thursday, and


I ~
'" =-
.` b r~,
I' '

-". ,
'' -s -


* K.



a success among the young people of her cousins' you can take your pleasure till the last possible
set. Girls liked her, and ran after her as a moment."
social favorite; and she had flowers and german "How lovely cried Hesse. How good of
favors and flatteries enough to spoil her, had she you to write, Cousin Julia, and I am so pleased
I- ... spoilable. But she kept a steady head through to go to Mrs. Shuttleworth's ball."
all these distractions, and never forgot, however What will you wear?" asked Pauline.
busy she might be, to send off the long journal- Oh, I have n't thought of that, yet. I must
letter, which was the chief weekly event to Uncle invent something, for I don't wish to buy another
and Aunt. dress, I have had so many things already."
Three months had been the time fixed for Hesse's Now, Hesse, you can't invent anything. It 's
stay in New York, but, without her knowledge, impossible to make a fancy dress out of the rag-

VOL. XIII.--3.



bag," said Pauline whose ideas were all of an
expensive kind.
We shall see," said Hesse. I think I shall
keep my costume as a surprise -except from you,
Cousin Julia. I shall want you to help me, but
none of the others shall know anything about it
till I come down-stairs."
This was a politic move on the part of Hesse.
She was resolved to spend no money, for she knew
that her winter had cost more than Uncle had
expected, and more than it might be convenient
for him to spare; yet she wished to avert dis-
cussion and remonstrance, and at the same time
to prevent Mrs. De Lancey from giving her a
new dress, which was very often that lady's easy
way of helping Hesse out of her toilet difficulties.
So a little seamstress was procured, and Cousin
Julia taken into counsel. Hesse kept her door
carefully locked for a day or two; and when,
on the evening of the party, she came down
attired as "My great-grandmother," in a short-
waisted, straight-skirted white satin; with a big
ante-revolutionary hat tied under her dimpled
chin; a fichu of mull, embroidered in colored
silks, knotted across her breast; long, white silk
mittens, and a reticule of pearl beads hanging
from her girdle,- even Pauline could find no fault.
The costume was as becoming as it was queer;
and all the girls told Hesse that she had never
looked so well in her life.
Eight or ten particular friends of Pauline and
Grace had arranged to meet at the De Lanceys',
and all start together for the ball. The room
was quite full of gay figures as My great-grand-
mother" came down; it was one of those little
moments of triumph which girls prize. The door-
bell rang as she slowly turned before the throng,
to exhibit the back of the wonderful gored and
plaited skirt. There was a little colloquy in the
hall, the butler opened the door, and in walked a
figure which looked singularly out of place among
the pretty, fantastic, girlish forms,-a tall, spare,
elderly figure in a coat of old-fashioned cut. A
carpet-bag was in his hand. He was no other than
Uncle, come a day before he was expected.
His entrance made a little pause.
What an extraordinary-looking person !" whis-
pered Maud Ashurst to Pauline, who colored, hesi-
tated, and did not, for a moment, know what to do.
Hesse, standing with her back to the door, had seen
nothing; but, struck by the silence, she turned.
A meaner nature than hers might have shared
Pauline's momentary embarrassment, but there
was not a mean fiber in the whole of Hesse's frank,
generous being.
Uncle dear Uncle !" she cried; and, running
forward, she threw her arms around the lean old

neck, and gave him half a dozen of her warmest
"It is my uncle," she explained to the others.
"We did n't expect him till to-morrow; and is n't
it too delightful that he should come in time to see
us all in our dresses !"
Then she drew him this way and that, introduc-
ing him to all her particular friends, chattering,
dimpling, laughing with such evident enjoyment,
such an assured sense that it was the pleasantest
thing possible to have her uncle there, that every
one else began to share it. The other girls, who,
with a little encouragement, a little reserve and
annoyed embarrassment on the part of Hesse,
would have voted Uncle "a countrified old quiz,"
and, while keeping up the outward forms of civility,
would have despised him in their hearts, infected
by Hesse's sweet happiness, began to talk to him
with the wish to please, and presently to discover
how pleasant his face was, and how shrewd and
droll his ideas and comments; and it ended by all
pronouncing him an "old dear." So true it is that
genuine and unaffected love and respect carry
weight with them for all the rest of the world.
Uncle was immensely amused by the costumes.
He recalled the fancy balls of his youth, and gave
the party some ideas on dress which had nevel
occurred to any of them before. He could not at
all understand the principle of selection on which
the different girls had chosen their various char-
"That gypsy queen looked as if she ought to
be teaching a Sunday-school," he told Hesse after-
ward. Little Red Riding Hood was too big for
her wolf. And as for that scampish little nun of
yours, I don't believe the stoutest convent ever
built could hold her in for half a day."
Come with us to Mrs. Shuttleworth's. It will
be a pretty scene, and something for you to tell
Cousin Marianne about when you go back," urged
Mrs. De Lancey.
Oh, do, do! chimed in Hesse. It will be
twice as much fun if you are there, Uncle "
But Uncle was tired by his journey, and would
not consent; and I am afraid that Pauline and
Grace were a little relieved by his decision. False
shame and the fear of "people" are powerful
Three days later, Hesse's long, delightful visit
ended, and she was speeding home under Uncle's
"You must write and invite some of those fine
young folk to come up to see you in June," he
told her.
That will be delightful," said Hesse. But
when she came to think about it later, she was not
so sure about its being delightful.



There is nothing like a long absence from home
to open one's eyes to the real aspect of familiar
things. The Sparlings-Neck house looked wo-
fully plain and old-fashioned, even to Hesse, when
contrasted with the elegance of Madison Avenue,-
how much more so, she reflected, would it look to
the girls !
She thought of Uncle's after-dinner pipe,--of
the queer little chamber, opening from the dining-
room, where he and Aunt chose to sleep,-of the
green-painted woodwork of the spare bedrooms,
and the blue paper-shades tied up with a cord, which
Aunt clung to because they were in fashion when
she was a girl; and for a few foolish moments she
felt that she would rather not have her friends
come at all, than have them come to see all this,
and perhaps make fun of it. Only for a few mo-
ments; then her more generous nature asserted
itself with a bound.
"How mean of me to even think of such a
thing!" she told herself, indignantly; "to feel
ashamed to have people know what my own home
is like, and Uncle and Aunt who are so good to
me. Hesse Reinike, I should like to hire some
one to give you a good whipping 1 The girls shall
come, and I '11 make the old house look just as
sweet as I can, and they shall like it, and have a
beautiful time from the moment they come till
they go away, if I can possibly give it to them."
To punish herself for what she considered an
unworthy feeling, she resolved not to ask Aunt to
let her change the blue paper-shades for white
curtains, but to have everything exactly as it usu-
ally was. But Aunt had her own ideas and her
pride of housekeeping to consider. As the time
of the visit drew near, laundering and bleach-
ing seemed to be constantly going on, and Jane,
the old house-maid, was kept busy tacking dim-
ity valances and fringed hangings on the sub-
stantial four-post bedsteads, and arranging fresh
muslin covers over the toilet-tables. Treasures
unknown to Hesse were drawn out of their recep-
tacles,- bits of old embroidery, tamboured table-
cloths and crazy quilts," vases and bow-pots of
pretty old china for the bureaus and chimney-
pieces. Hesse took a long drive to the woods, and
brought back great masses of ferns, pink azalea,
and wild laurel. All the neighbors' gardens were
laid under contribution. When all was in order,
with ginger-jars full of cool white daisies and
golden buttercups standing on the shining mahog-
any tables, bunches of blue lupines on the mantel,
the looking-glasses wreathed with traveler's joy,
and a great bowl full of early roses and quan-
tities of lilies of the valley, the old house looked
cosy enough and smelt sweet enough to satisfy the
most fastidious taste.

Hesse drove over with Uncle to the station to
meet her guests. They took the big carry-all,
which, with squeezing, would hold seven; and a
wagon followed for the luggage. There were five
girls coming; for, besides Pauline and Grace, Hesse
had invited Georgie Berrian, Maud Ashurst, and
Ella Waring, who were the three special favorites
among her New York friends.
The five flocked out of the train, looking so
dainty and stylish that they made the old carry-all
seem shabbier than ever by contrast. Maud Ash-
urst cast one surprised look at it and at the old
white mare; she had never seen just such a car-
riage before ; but the quality of the equipage was
soon forgotten, as Uncle twitched the reins, and
they started down the long lane-like road which
led to Sparlings-Neck and was Hesse's particular
The station and the dusty railroad were forgot-
ten almost immediately,-lost in the sense of com-
plete country freshness. On either hand rose
tangled banks of laurel and barberries, sweet-ferns
and budding grape-vines, overarched by tall trees,
and sending out delicious odors; while mingling
with and blending all came, borne on a shoreward
wind, the strong salt fragrance of the sea.
What is it? What can it be ? I never smelt
anything like it cried the girls from the city.
"Now, girls," cried Hesse, turning her bright
face around from the driver's seat, "this is real,
absolute country, you know, none of the make-
believes which you get at Newport or up the
Hudson. Everything we have is just as queer and
old-fashioned as it can be. You wont be asked to
a single party while you are here, and there is n't
the ghost of a young man in the neighborhood -
well, yes, there may be a ghost, but there is no
young man. You must just make up your minds,
all of you, to a dull time, and then you '11 find that
it 's lovely."
It 's sure to be lovely wherever you are, you
dear thing !" declared Ella Waring, with a little
rapturous squeeze.
I fancy that, just at first, the city girls did think
the place very queer. None of them had ever
seen just such an old house as the Reinikes' before.
The white wainscots with their toothed moldings
matched by the cornices above, the droll little cup-
boards in the walls, the fire-boards pasted with gay
pictures, the queer closets and clothes-presses oc-
curring just where no one would naturally have
looked for them, and having, each and all, an odd
shut-up odor, as of by-gone days all seemed very
strange to them. But the flowers and the green
elms and Hesse's warm welcome were delightful;
so were Aunt's waffles and wonderful tarts, the
strawberries smothered in country cream, and the


cove oysters and clams which came in, deliciously
stewed, for tea; and they soon pronounced the visit
"a lark," and Sparlings-Neck a paradise.
There were long drives in the woods, picnics in
the pine groves, '..,l;,i..-i...n r;.; on the beach,
morning sittings under the trees with an interesting
book; and when a north-easter came and brought
with it what seemed a brief return of winter, there
was a crackling fire, a candy-pull, and a charming
evening spent in sitting on the floor telling ghost-
stories, with the room only lighted by the fitfully
blazing wood, and with cold creeps running down
their backs Altogether, the fortnight was a com-
plete success, and every one saw its end with
I wish we were going to stay all summer said
Georgie Berrian. Newport will seem stiff and
tiresome after this."

I never had so good a time; never! declared
Ellen. "And, Hesse, I do think your aunt and
uncle are the dearest old people I ever saw! That
pleased Hesse most of all. But what pleased her
still more was when, after the guests were gone,
and the house restored to its old order, and the
regular home life begun again, Uncle put his arm
around her, and gave her a kiss,- not a bed-time
kiss, or one called for by any special occasion, but
an extra kiss, all of his own accord.
"A dear child," he said; not a bit ashamed
of the old folks; was she ? I liked that, Hesse."
Ashamed of you and Aunt? I should think
not answered Hesse, with a flush.
Uncle gave a dry little chuckle.
Well, well," he said, some girls would have
been; you were n't,- that 's all the difference.
You're a good child, Hesse."



WHAT- what-what there, my pet Canary?
What are you trying, my town-bred bird?
You, whose performance used never to vary!
Ah, I can guess at the rogue you 've heard !

Day after day, in your bright brass i! .!i,
You lived in comfort; you took your dip;
Your cup ran over with seeds for shelling;
Your dear delight was a celery-tip.

Primly and trimly you sleeked your feathers;
To swing in the ring you considered bliss
And you sang, sang, sang in all seasons and weathers,
With a swelling throat, such a song as this:

Sweet, sweet, sweet,
Swee-eet ?
Just -hear me -trill like a rill, rill, rill, rill!
Sweet, sweet, sweet! "

But away at the farm-house last July, sir,
Don't I know who, in the dawn and dew,
Came, like a flame, to the branch near by, sir,
Fi.:1. ,.. and dashing, and taunting you?

Who but the Oriole, orange and sable?
Brilliant Lord Baltimore, velvety-necked,
Whistling out clear, through the morn's gay babel,
Something to this provoking effect:




" You 're caged I see. 'T is n't fair, but I don't care !
I 'm free, free, free Oho, it 's rare,- and I don't care !

" Free ? "- You listened, and learned his meaning !
Shadow and meadow and breezy tree,-
Cherry and berry,- flitting and gleaning,--
Mating and building,-
Oh, free, free, free!"

And now you repeat, though a trifle queerly,
That nonchalant melody, o'er and o'er,
And persuade yourself-or so very nearly!-
You are quite as content as you were before:

"-- 'T is n't fair, but I don't care!
-- I don't care "







IN the first part of our visit to Rome I remarked
that the ancient city. is now many feet below the
level of the present streets. For centuries upon cent-
uries, dust and rubbish of various kinds have grad-
ually accumulated and formed a soil which has
thus slowly piled itself upon old Rome, covering it
all out of sight, excepting those portions of the
ruins which were tall enough to keep above this
rising tide of earth. In some parts of the city we
may yet see the ruins of temples with the lower
parts of the porticoes imbedded deeply in the
soil, and wherever these old buildings have been
excavated, the entrances and lower floors are far
beneath the level of the streets, so that we have
to go down to them by steps. Thus we must
descend to reach the arena of the Colosseum,
the whole lower part of this great building hav-
ing been covered up in this way. This is the
reason why we can still see, near the ground, the
great iron bars which held the stones together. In
the Middle Ages, when people used to come and
take away this iron-work, all the bars which now
remain were covered up, and thus protected, while
of those in the exposed portions of the walls not one
is left. This covering up of old Rome is a great
disadvantage in some respects, for it has made
necessary a vast deal of work and expense in ex-
cavating the ruins, but, on the other hand, it has
been of great advantage in saving and protecting
until modern times, not only portions of build-
ings, but great numbers of valuable statues, mo-
saics, and other works of art. In fact, nearly all
the ancient Roman sculptures which we see in
the galleries were preserved in this way, and it
is very fortunate for us that they were; for, in
the medieval times, every piece of ancient marble
that could be found, no matter how .. ,.i,.il
it was sculptured, was either used for building
or burned for lime. It is believed that some
of the most valuable statues of antiquity were
thus used to make mortar. Now, the work of ex-
cavation is going on all the time; the greatest
care is taken of the ruins that are thus exposed to
view; and every statue that is found, and even
every broken-off hand or foot, is looked upon as a
treasure. If I could believe that the people of the

twenty-fifth century would improve as much on us
as we have improved upon the people of the Mid-
dle Ages, I should almost be sorry that I was born
so soon.
At some distance from the modern portion of the
city, and near the river, is a rounded green hill,
which is called Monte Testaccio. This hills avery
good example of how the surface of the ground
can be gradually raised in the course of centu-
ries. It is one hundred and sixty-four feet in height.
It stands near the place where the ancient
Roman wharves were situated, at which the ships
bringing large jars and other pottery from Spain
and Africa unloaded. Such jars as were broken
were thrown or piled up here; and it is said that,
at the end of the second century the mound was
about eighty feet high. The fragments of these
jars and of other pottery that was landed here
have thus .-.!, i formed a little mountain as
high as the top of a tall church-steeple. It has been
cut into in many places and found everywhere to
consist of the same material, and so it may be said
to be the largest object in the world that is formed
of earthenware. It is long since any broken pottery
has been added to the pile, and it is now covered
over with soil, on which the grass grows green and
There is a church in Rome, called San Clemente,
which is, in some respects, an exceedingly curious
edifice. Here we find four buildings one on top of
another. The uppermost is the present church,
built in the year I o8, and we shall see some inter-
esting decorations of old-fashioned mosaic work on
its walls and ceilings. But we shall not spend
much time here, for there is another churchbelow
this, and under the surface of the ground, which
we very much wish to see. This is a church of
the early Christians which was first mentioned in
the year 392. During one of the wars of the Mid-
dle Ages, the upper part of this building was en-
tirely destroyed and the rest much damaged; and
about twenty-four years afterward, the present
church was built over it, and partly on its walls.
A stair-way now leads down into this old church,
and we can wander about the nave and aisles in
which the early Christians used to worship. On
the walls are a number of fresco paintings, repre-
senting Bible-scenes, and instances in the life of St.
Clement, for whom the church was named. There
are also other subjects, and some of these paintings


are still in a very good condition, so that it is quite
easy to see what they represent. In order that
there shall be no mistake, the names of some of the
persons are painted beneath them. Of course all
the windows are blocked up now, and the man who
takes us down carries a light; but on certain days
this ancient church is illuminated with many can-
dles, and then it is crowded with visitors. Below
this church are the remains of Roman buildings of
the time of the emperors, on the foundations of
which the old Christian edifice was built. Three
rooms have been excavated here, and a stair-way
leads down to them, but they are very wet and un-
pleasant. Still below these are great walls belong-
ing to a building of the time of the Roman repub-
lic. This edifice was of massive stone, and on
its walls were erected the later Roman buildings,
which are of brick. When that lower edifice, now
like the ground-floor of a three-story cellar, was in
use, it was, of course, on the surface of the ground.
There are, no doubt, many persons now living
in Rome who have beneath them the residence of
some gentleman of the Middle Ages, under which,
perhaps, is the home of a Roman family of the time
of the Cesars; and this may have been built upon
the foundations of another Roman house, which
was considered a good place to live in some five or
six hundred years before. It must be a very satis-
factory thing, when one is going to build a house,
to find beneath the ground some good substantial
walls which will make excellent foundations. It
very often happens that these remains of ancient
buildings are built of larger stones, and are firmer
and more solid than the houses which are erected
upon them. There is another side, however, to this
matter, and the remains of old buildings are fre-
quently very much in the way of those who wish
to erect new houses, for it does not always occur that
the ancient walls are in the right places, or of a
suitable kind, to serve as foundations forthe modern
building. Then they have to be dug up and taken
out, which is a great labor. There is a handsome
American church in Rome; for as great numbers
of our country people visit that city every winter,
and a good many live there, it is considered desir-
able for us to have a church of our own. This
was built in a place which used to be one of the
most populous parts of ancient Rome, and the
work was made very expensive by the difficulty of
getting rid of portions of walls, arches, rooms, and
vaults which these Romans had left behind them,
never thinking that in the course of ages there
might be such people as Americans who would wish
to build a church here.
I may remark here that wherever we go in
Europe, we shall find ourselves called Americans,
although this term would apply just as well to

Canadians, Mexicans, or the inhabitants of Nicar-
agua. The fact is, that the name of our country
can not very well be applied to its citizens. To
speak of us properly, we should be called United-
States-of-Americans, but this is too long a title,
and in Europe the term Americans is generally
applied to the people of the United States, and to
no others. It is not well to have too much name.
I used to own a dog whose whole name was Fax
lMentis Incendiziu Glorit, but I always called
him Fax."
I have said that Rome offers wonderful attrac-
tions and advantages to artists, but we shall
find that it offers just as much to those who
love art, but are not artists. The city is crowded,
so to speak, with collections of painting and stat-
uary, among which are to be found some of the
greatest works of the kind in the world. When
we begin to visit the principal galleries, some
of which are in private palaces, and some in
public buildings, we shall think that they exist
everywhere in the city. You have probably read
in Mrs. Clement's valuable series of papers on
art, in this magazine, descriptions of the most
important works of art to be found in Rome.
These we shall go to see, and take a great deal more
pleasure in looking at them because we already
know something about them. Our first art expe-
dition will be made to the Vatican, because that is
so grand and interesting a building in itself;
and because it contains the most important art
treasures in Rome. Among these are the famous
Sistine Chapel, which owes its reputation to the
wonderful frescoes by Michael Angelo; the Slanze,
or rooms, of Raphael, which contain a great many
frescoes by this great master; Raphael's Loggia,
a long gallery with a glass front, the ceiling of
which is adorned with frescoes, which are some-
times called Raphael's Bible, as they consist of
scenes from the Old and New Testaments. Then,
there is the gallery of pictures, most of them by
great masters; and the department of sculpture,
consisting of many halls and galleries filled with
an almost endless collection of statues, sarcophagi,
bas-reliefs, and other works of the greatest ancient
To visit these collections, which alone are worth
a trip to Europe, we must have printed permits,
which are very easily obtained.
To reach the Sistine Chapel, the Picture Galler-
ies, and Raphael's Rooms, we must present ourselves
at the bronze gates, the principal entrance to the
Vatican, situated to the right of the great square
in front of St. Peter's. The Vatican, with its gal-
leries and grounds, together with St. Peter's and
some other buildings, belongs exclusively to the
Pope, who exercises here a sovereignty entirely


:-- -c -= 7

&w" -- C

Zn .M

S1 "'' -.. I-; --
9.. .- "- _t-.-, '.| ,'. '
.' ," j'i^ ', ,-, ',' .-! ;.l .. .' P, ... .

,I. __ .- .,, -
.i!'I t:"


distinct and separate from that of the King of
Italy, who now includes the rest of Rome in his
dominions. The Pope has his own soldiers, who
are not very many, and who .. i I. 1I act as guards
to the various parts of the Vatican. Behind the
bronze doors, which are enormous barred gates,
we shall see some of these ....I :. one of whom
will ask us for our fiermossos, or permits. I am
sure you never beheld i,;.1i gentlemen like
them before. They are called the Swiss Guard,
and are dressed in a uniform of i .. ; -. tunic and
breeches, formed of broad perpendicular stripes of
black, red, and yellow, long stockings striped in
black and yellow; and on state occasions they
wear brass helmets with heavy white plumes, and
carry halberds, or pikes with ax-heads at the
ends. The officers' dress, of the same design, is
of bright silk, and they make a i-::. -appear-
ance. These men appear as if they belonged to
the Middle Ages and had nothing to do with our
modern times; and they very properly seem so,
for their uniform was .1..: ; .. by Michael Angelo,
not long after the discovery of America, and their
costume has never been changed. It used to be
the custom of many of the potentates of Europe

to have personal guards composed of Swiss soldiers,
as they were considered more honest and trustwor-
thy than any others. In Walter Scott's "Quentin
Durward you will learn a great deal about the
Swiss guards of France. In Paris the porter at
the doors of great houses is still often called "The
Swiss," although he is almost always a Frenchman.
And these guards of the Pope are now Italians,
but they still retain the old name.
Rome is full of the greatest things in the world,
and I believe that the marble staircase of the Vatican
which now extends itself before us, straight on and
up in a gentle slope to such a distance that the people
at the top seemed dwarfed, as if they were at the
end of some long avenue of trees, if not the great-
est straight flight of steps in the world, is certainly
one of them. It is called the Scala Regia, or
Royal Stair-way; and up it we go. The steps are
not very high, but very broad, which is the case
in most of the Roman palaces, and this makes the
ascent easier; but when we come to the top we
shall find that the business of going upstairs is by
no means at an end. When we have 'found stair-
way after stair-way, and have gone up and up and
up to the various places we have come to see, we


r-,, (I

.- ---.,'


shall understand what it is to be in a building ten
stories high.
As I have said before, the entrance to the sculpt-
ure galleries is reached by going around St.
Peter's Church. There are many of these galleries
filled with the great works of Greece and Rome,
and here we shall find the originals of many world-
famous statues with which we are all familiar from
engravings and casts, such as the Apollo Belvidere,
the Laocodn, and the beautiful Mercury, formerly
known as Antinous. The magnificent marble
halls, the mosaic pavements, and the grand collec-
tion of sculpture to be seen here will be a delight
and surprise to us, no matter how much we may
have read or heard about them before.
In this part of the building there is also the vast
library of the Vatican, in which there are a great
many interesting things to be seen besides books,
such as superb and costly presents made to differ-
ent popes by European sovereigns.
.iii. i, we are in the Pope's house, we shall
not see him, for the public is not allowed to enter
his private apartments and beautiful grounds.

government. In this collection is the famous dying
Gladiator, or, as it should be 1ii...i the Dying
Gaul; and the Faun of Praxiteles, abeautifulstatue
of a youth, which is well known to all of us who have
read Hawthorne's story of The Marble Faun." In
this Capitoline Museum and in a building opposite,
called the Conservatori, there are a great many
antique statues and sculptures, and among them,
in the last-named building, is one which I am sure
my young companions will find very interesting.
It is the tombstone of a boy named Q. Sulpicius
Maximus, who died at the age of eleven and a
half, in consequence of having worked too hard at
school. I do not believe that many of the ST.
NICHOLAS young people are likely to die from
this cause, but if any of them should feel inclined
to study too hard and play too little, they might
get some useful hints from this tombstone. Young
Q. Sulpicius was engaged in a competition with
fifty-two other scholars in writing Greek verses,
and succeeded in excelling them all. It would,
however, have been better for him personally if he
had not done so well, for his efforts killed him, and

*': -b~--4-

12~ -,



Another great collection of sculpture we shall all he gained was fame. This has been very last-
find at the Capitoline Museum, a ...p.i ;.. on the ing, for his achievements are related upon this
Capitol Hill, once the seat of the ancient Roman tombstone, and all of us who are learned enough




may read quotations from his Greek verses, which
are inscribed upon the marble, and gaze upon the
statuette of the boy himself, no doubt a very good
In the central square of the Capitol, which is
surrounded on three sides by buildings, stands a
very large bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius, once
Emperor of Rome, mounted on a spirited horse.
This is the only equestrian statue which has been
preserved in a perfect condition out of the many
that decorated ancient Rome. Michael Angelo,who
designed the I...i..il... :. which at present stand on
this hill, was very fond of this statue, and especially
admired the horse. One day, while he was study-
ing it, he forgot that it was not alive, and wishing to
see it in another position, he cried out, Cam "
which means, go on. After looking at this horse
for some time, one might easily imagine that a
shout or a touch of a whip would make it jump.
A long inclined plane, covered with an asphalt
pavement, leads down to the street below; and
near the top of this incline is a large iron cage, in
which some live wolves are always kept. This is in
memory of the ancient wolf who was good enough
to take care of Romulus and Remus when there
was nobody else to do it. This wolf is still consid-
ered as a Roman emblem; pictures and carvings
of it are seen on many buildings and public places,
and it is even stamped on pats of butter. It is a
great pity, from an artistic point of view, that
some more graceful creature did not adopt the lit-
tle babies who afterward founded the city. Not
far from here, on the Palatine Hill, is still shown
a cave which is said to be the identical den in
which the old wolf established her little orphan
asylum. In the course of our rambles we shall
pass this, and those who choose may go in.
In nearly all the palaces and villas of the nobles
in and about Rome, there are collections of paint-
ings and sculptures, some of them very large and
filling many halls and rooms. We shall try to
visit as many of these as we can, for nearly every
one of them contains some famous pieces of an-
tique sculpture or some of the great paintings of
the masters of the Middle Ages. In one of these,
the Spada palace, there stands, in an outer hall, a
tall statue of the Roman general Pompey, which is
believed to be the very statue at the feet of which
Julius Caesar was assassinated by Brutus and the
other conspirators. In the Rospigliosi gallery is
Guido's famous Aurora, which is a fresco covering
nearly all the ceiling of a large room. We all are
familiar with engravings and copies of this picture,
but we shall find it rather difficult to look as long as
we wish at the original without making our necks
ache by bending our heads backward as we gaze
at the ceiling. To obviate this obstacle to the

enjoyment of the picture, a looking-glass is fixed
upon a table in such a way that visitors can look
down into it and see the perfect reflection of the
beautiful fresco above their heads. Many of the
churches, too, contain famous works, and among
these we shall certainly not omit San Pietro in Vin-
coli, where sits Michael Angelo's majestic and awful
statue of Moses. No end of statues; no end of
paintings; no end of grand palaces full of the
works of ancient and modern artists, shall we see
while we are in Rome. The great difficulty will
be not to allow our desire to enjoy beautiful things
to tire us out. Visitors often overtax their strength;
but we shall be prudent and not work too hard in
the pursuit of pleasure.
The burying-places of Rome are among its most
curious sights. We have seen one of these, the
tomb of Hadrian, which was an enormous edifice
built for the last resting-place of one man and a
few of his family; and now we shall visit a small
building which contained the remains of quite a
congregation of people. This is situated near one
of the city gates, in a place now occupied by vine-
yards, and is called a columbarium. It is a small
square house of stone, the greater part under-
ground, and contains but one room, into which we
descend by a very steep and very narrow flight of
stairs. The ancient Romans very often burned the
bodies of deceased persons, and in this place they
kept the little urns, or caskets, which contained
the ashes. All around the four walls of the room,
and in a large square pillar of masonry in the cen-
ter, are little recesses, like pigeon-holes, and this
resemblance is the reason for the name, columbar-
ium, meaning pigeon-house. These holes are
each about a foot square, and deep enough to hold
from two to four of the earthen pots or stone boxes
in which the ashes were kept; and this building
contained six hundred of these urns. Each pigeon-
hole was owned by a family, whose name we can
see inscribed on a marble tablet over the opening.
Sometimes it is stated who is buried inside; and
on some of them various particulars are given, such
as when and how the little vaults were bought.
It is very curious and interesting to walk about
this room and read the names and ages of persons
who were thus conveniently buried some eighteen
centuries ago. Many of the jars and boxes still
remain, and some of them contain fragments and
cinders. There are other colimbaria in Rome,
but this is the best, and the only one we need visit.
Just outside the Porta Maggiore, one of the
principal gates of the city, is a very odd specimen
of a burial-place which we all shall wish to see.
It is the tomb of a baker, built by himself in the
days of the Roman republic, some -ime before the
beginning of the Christian era. It is a stone edi-



fice, as large as a little house, and constructed in
the form of a baker's oven. This ancient maker
of bread, whose name was Marcus Vergilius Eury-
saces, was probably a very good baker, and he
did not wish this fact forgotten after his death.
All around his tomb are small sculptured figures
representing bakers attending to different parts of
their business, some grinding grain, others knead-
ing, and making up loaves of bread, and others
baking it. There is also on it an inscription in
Latin, stating that this is the monument of the
said Eurysaces, and that he was not only a purveyor
of bread, but a city official. In order that no one
should miss seeing this inscription, it is repeated
on several sides of the monument. The desire for
fame on the part of the builder of this oven-tomb
has surely been gratified, for his monument has
stood about two thousand years, and I have no
doubt that the good baker is still inside of it.
The Roman catacombs are very famous, and we
all know that they are a vast collection of subter-
ranean passages and apartments running in many
directions under-ground, some far under the others,
and forming labyrinths in which any one would
certainly be lost who should venture into them
without a guide. These are situated in the vast
plain, which surrounds Rome, and is called the
Campagna; and some of these catacombs are said
to extend so far that parts of them are under the
city. They were the burial-places of the early
Christians, and in them they also used to hold
religious services, when they were so persecuted
that they could not worship openly. We shall visit
the catacombs of Callistus, which is the largest
one; and to reach it we go aout over the famous
Appian Way, a great military road built by the
Romans, where for part of the distance our car-
riage wheels roll over the very stones on which the
Roman chariots used to be driven; and as these
chariots had no springs, their occupants must
have been greatly jolted, although the road is even
now as good as many modern paved streets.
There is a line of heavy curbstones on each side,
and the narrowness of the road and the marks of
the ancient wheels upon the stones show how much
wider are our modern vehicles than were the char-
iots of old. A drive out on this Appian Way must
have been a melancholy pleasure to the ancient
Romans, for it was lined on each side by miles of
tombs, many of them very handsome edifices like
small castles, and temples, with pillars and statu-
ary. Remains of these tombs are still seen on each
side of the road, and portions of some of them are
in good preservation; and on marble slabs, and
over little porticoes, we can read the names of
many persons who were buried here. We can go
out for miles on this road, which was made three

hundred years before Christ, and we shall find the
Campagna very interesting, with its vast expanse
of green pastures, on which we see herds of the
fine Roman oxen, with their enormous horns,
sometimes nearly a yard long; herdsmen wander-
ing about with their flocks of sheep and goats at
their heels; .. ,li. hills covered with wild flowers;
and over all, stretching far away, long lines of
stone arches, the remains of ancient Roman aque-
ducts, some of which are in so good condition that
they are still used to bring water to the city.
But the catacombs we are to visit are but little
more than a mile from the city walls, and we soon
reach them. At a small building we find guides,
who give each one of us a lighted taper. Then
we form in line, and go down a long flight of stone
steps to the doleful depths of this under-ground
labyrinth. We find ourselves at first in a long
passage a little higher than our heads and so
narrow that we can touch each side of it by stretch-
ing out our arms. It is simply dug out of the
soft rock and earth, and in each of its walls are
cavities, one above the other, in which once rested
the bodies of the early Christians. Some of these
were in marble boxes, or sarcophagi, and others
more rudely buried. But very few of them are
here now. Many of the sculptured marbles have
been taken to the Roman Museums, and thousands
of the bones of the early Christians have been car-
ried away as relics, and buried in churches all
over Europe. In a line, each holding his pale
light, we follow our guides through the long pas-
sages of this dreary place. Occasionally, as I have
said, are little chambers and chapels, but the
catacombs consist for the most part of these nar-
row earth corridors, absolutely pitch-dark, and
turning and winding in every imaginable way.
It is necessary that those at the end of our line
should not lag behind, for if they were to lose
sight of the main body they would never, of them-
selves, be able to find it again. One passage looks
just like another, and there are so many of them
to the right and the left, that it would be im-
possible for an inexperienced person to knowwhen
he should go ahead and when he should turn.
But we all keep together, and after a long under-
ground walk, we at last come out into the day-
light, in a spot at some distance from that where
we went in. We have gone through but a small
part of these great catacombs but it has been
quite enough.
There are other kinds of burial-places in Rome,
but we shall visit no more of them, though
they give us ideas in regard to the manners and
customs of by-gone people which we could get in
no other way.
In the busy and lively streets of modern Rome


we find enough to fill up all the time we can spare
from the galleries and the antiquities. There
are hundreds of shops, and the windows are full
of many things which are peculiar to Rome,
such as beautiful gold-work of intricate and delicate
patterns; many-colored Roman silken scarfs and
blankets; great ox-horns beautifully polished and
mounted with silver; coral, made into every

.;. "% ..

Many of the streets are very narrow, and have
no sidewalks, and when we are- -,li11,,, in these,
we have to look out for ourselves, for there is
no one else who will do it. Carriages and wagons
come rattling along expecting every one to get out
of their way, and sometimes we must slip into
door-ways, or squeeze ourselves flat up against walls
in order not to be run over. Paving stones and


-~ I

i 4.Y

-. %i..

S -. ",1

I:~ I' .. -


imaginable ornament; mosaics, and cameos; brill-
iant water-color drawings of the Roman school;
and no end of small bronzes and sculptures and
other works of art. Among the things exhibited
are the soft-colored Roman pearls; and, looking
through some of the shop windows, we can see
women at work making these pearls, for they are
manufactured by human beings, and not by oysters.
Each pearl is made on the end of a piece of wire
like a knitting-needle. Hundreds of these needles,
with pearls on the ends, some little things, and
some the size they are going to be, may be seen
sticking in cushions, while women and girls are at
work dipping other wires into the soft composition
out of which the pearls are made, i,..!..l i and
I ..... ,..,,, into the proper shape. Everywhere,
too, may be seen men, boys, and women with bas-
kets of tortoise-shell ornaments, of fruits, and flow-
ers, and nearly every imaginable thing to sell ; and
foreign visitors have sometimes a great deal of
trouble to escape from these energetic street

people all appear the same to a Roman driver; if
they don't get out of the way he will go over them.
Sometimes when I have been in one of the lit-
tle open Roman carriages, it has almost taken
my breath away to see the driver dash into the
midst of a crowd of people; I certainly expected
that somebody would be knocked down, but I
never saw any one injured, or even touched.
Practice makes excellent dodgers of Roman foot-
travelers. The fact that it is against the law to
get in the way of a vehicle helps to make them
careful. In many parts of Europe, persons who
are knocked down or run over by vehicles are
fined or imprisoned.
The royal palace is in Rome, and the King,
Princes, and many of the other nobles live in
or near the city; and we may often see their hand-
some equipages in the streets and in the parks.
Every fine day the little Prince of whom you have
read in one of the numbers of ST. NICHOLAS, may
be seen in a carriage with his tutor. The little
fellow might almost as well ride bare-headed,



so frequently does he take off his hat to the people.
Very often we shall meet his mother, the beautiful
Queen Margharita, who is a gracious and pleasant
lady, and bows to the people as if she knew them
all. King Humbert, too, is constantly to be met on
fine afternoons. He is very fond of doinghis own
driving, and as he has over two hundred horses in
his stables, he can always have a pair to suit him.
It is harder for a king to drive than for any other
person to do so. He must hold the reins and
guide the horses, he must also hold the whip, and
he must always have a hand free with which to
take off his hat, which he does on an average three
times a minute. If ever I ride behind a fractious
pair of horses, I don't wish a king to drive them.
The modern Romans, even the common people,
have a proud and dignified air. They seem to
have preserved something of the spirit of their
ancestors. The men are very fond of long cloaks,
a corner of which they throw over the left shoulder
as the old Romans did their togas. It is quite amus-
ing to see aletter- ..- i I J : -.... themail, with his
cloak thrown around him in this martial way. As
for people who are truly martial, there are plenty
of them to be seen in Rome. Soldiers are every-
where; handsomely dressed officers among the
people on the sidewalks; private soldiers singly, or
two or three together, hurrying hither and thither
on all sorts of errands; and very
often, a regiment, with a band,
marching along at a quick rate, as if
something were about to happen,
every man with his rifle and his
knapsack, and a whole cock's tail of .
feathers in his hat.
As I have said before, the Italian
government is busily carrying on
the work of excavating the ruins of
ancient Rome, and among the most
interesting of these are the remains -
of the old Roman Forum, where the
most important of the public build-
ings and temples stood, and where
assemblies of the people were held.
We shall wander for hours about
this great open space, which is not far from the
Colosseum; we shall see the triumphal arch of
Septimius Severus; the remains of temples with
some of their beautiful sculptured pillars still stand-
ing, tall and strong; the narrow streets, with their
pavements of wide flag-stones, in which are the
deep ruts worn by the old Roman wheels. These
stones are marked in some places with circles, on
which are indicated the points of the compass. On
one side of the Forum is the lower part of the
Basilica Julia, a great public building erected by
Julius Caesar, with its long lines of steps, the mar-

ble floors of its corridors, and some of its mosaic
pavement still remaining. In these corridors we
shall see, scratched on the marble slabs of the
floor, squares and circles on which the Roman boys
and men used to play games while I.ii; .. outside
the halls of justice. Near one of the temples is a
broad platform from which orators addressed the
people. Here Marc Antony stood when he pro-
nounced the oration over the body of the murdered
Caesar; and if we examine the place, we shall find
that, near the edge of the low platform of stone,
some of the great slabs are much worn. This was
the best position for the speakers, and it must have
required the sandals of generations of orators to so
rub down and wear away the stones. It is prob-
able that it was on this very spot Marc Antony
stood, and if any of the boys think that to take his
place would inspire them with eloquence, they
have but to stand there and try. Near by is the
triumphal arch of Titus, which he erected when he
returned victorious from Jerusalem; and among the
other sculptures on it we can still see, very clear
and plain, the great seven-branched golden candle-
stick which he carried away from Solomon's
A few steps from this brings us to the entrance
of the palaces of the Cesars. These are the re-
mains of the palaces built by the Roman emperors,

and they cover a large extent of ground. Of some
of them, all the upper parts are gone, nothing re-
maining but portions of walls and marble floors
and fragments of sculptured columns; while of
others there are still many archways, corridors,
and apartments. On the grounds is a small house
with some of the rooms nearly perfect, in which
are to be seen the paintings on the walls and the
leaden pipes by which the water was brought in.
Everywhere there are remains of beautiful marbles
and sculptures. At one end of the grounds is a
acedagoyium, or school-house. Here are several

t.'i I~' ''



rooms, on the walls of which can be seen carica-
tures and inscriptions made by the Roman boys.
They are scratched with a steel stylus, which
they used for writing. Some of the pictures are
quite good; and a number of the names of the
scholars are to be seen.
We shall wander a long time over these palatial
grounds, and in one place we shall see a small
stone altar with an inscription on it stating that it
was erected to the Unknown God.
All about this part of Rome are ruins of other
immense and costly buildings erected by the Roman
emperors. A moderate walk will bring us to the
remains of the lower part of the celebrated Golden
House of Nero, where we may wander through
many great vaulted corridors and rooms. The
Emperor Nero, as we all know, was as wicked a
man as ever lived, and did all the injury to his fel-
low-beings that it was possible for him to do ; but
I used to think, and I suppose everybody agreed
with me, that the time had long since passed when
he could cause injury to any one. Yet, when I was
visiting these ruins, which in places are very damp
and wet, I caught quite a bad cold, and, for about
a week, I was very severe on Nero. Who could
imagine that anything he had done would have
injured a peaceful American of the nineteenth
century But the influence of the wicked is far-
Over the ruins of this Golden House, which
must have been a magnificent palace, the Emperor
Titus erected baths, of which we may still see por-
tions; but these are nothing to the grand remains
of the Baths of Caracalla, where we shall spend an
hour or two. This was an immense and magnifi-
cent building, capable of accommodating 1600
bathers. A great part of its tall walls are still
standing, and here we can walk through the im-
mense rooms, some still retaining portions of their
beautiful mosaic pavements, and we may even go
down into the cellars, where are still to be seen the
furnaces by which the water was heated. There
was probably never in the world so grand and
luxurious a bath-house as this. It had great halls
for promenading and recreation, and a race-course ;
and in it were found some of the most valuable
statues of antiquity.
Many of us will be surprised to find the greater
part of the Roman ruins of brick. This brick-work
is of so good a quality that it has lasted almost as
well as stone. The marble outside of most of these
walls has long since been carried away. Some of
the more important buildings, however, are of

stone; and there are some beautiful marble pillars
and porticoes still standing.
We all have heard the statement that Rome was
not built in a day, and we shall find out for our-
selves that it takes a great many days to see it,
even if we only glance at things which we should
like to examine and enjoy for hours. But we shall
try to use profitably all the time we have to spend
here, in this old city, great in ancient times, great
in the Dark and Middle Ages, and great now.
We shall visit very many churches, each different
from the others, and each containing some inter-
esting painting, or possessing some architectural
beauties which make it famous. Among these
are the Pantheon, a circular church, formerly a
pagan temple, still perfect, and lighted by the
same great round opening in the roof, through
which the rain came in the days of Julius Caesar
just as it does now. Here Raphael, Victor Eman-
uel, and other celebrated men are buried. We
must also see the church of St. John Lateran, with
an extensive building attached which for a thou-
sand years was the palace of the popes, but is now
an interesting museum; and Santa Maria Mag-
giore, with its beautiful chapels; and the Borghese
villa, and its beautiful gardens, filled with works of
art; and we must not fail to visit the magnificent
new church of St. Paul's, outside the walls, the finest
religious edifice of recent times, the vast marble
floor of which. as smooth and bright as a lake of
glistening ice, is worth coming to see, even if there
were no mosaics, and no cloisters with splendid
marbles and columns, and pillars and altars of
alabaster and malachite sent from sovereigns of
Europe and Africa.
And very different from all this is what we see in
another quarter of Rome, where the narrow streets
are crowded with men, women, and children, each
one with something to sell; while the fronts of the
houses are nearly covered with old clothes hung
against them, and where there are dingy little
shops crowded with bric-a-brac and all sorts of
odd things, some of which we shall like to take
home with us,- but must be careful how we
There is more, more, more, to be seen in Rome
and in the beautiful ;ii . near by, but we can
stay no longer now; so we all shall go to the
Fountain of Trevi, each of us take a drink of
water, and each of us throw a small coin into the
pool, for there is a legend which says that people
who do this when they are leaving Rome will be
sure to come to this wonderful city again.



7<4 2

- II

I --

-: : T C_ L ,-- i )- -: ,

J LP T-" 1r\L. U TYL C.

:i !, ,_; *:-: :_--r *C-
.1' _, N .-. I Lt_.. U iti' ._ \I

'. -_C^.'l -i-\!Ltl

i"-:- ._...-4 .



WHEN I was in Melbourne, Australia, a few years
ago, I made myself a Christmas present of a baby-
cockatoo. It was one of four which a Chinaman
was offering for sale. They were about the oddest
little figures I had ever seen; and as they sat
perched upon the cross-piece of the upright
stick on which the Chinaman was carrying them
through the streets, I could not resist the tempta-
tion to purchase one, never thinking how I was to
get it safely home with me to America.
The young "Joeys," as the birds are called
in Australia, had evidently been stolen from the
home nest that very morning. They looked very

much like balls of cotton about three or four
inches in diameter; but projecting from each ball
was a beak altogether out of proportion to the
seeming puff-ball, while two big, staring eyes shone
in each tiny head. And there they perched, and
squeaked and blinked, and blinked and squeaked,
with almost clock-like regularity.
_-. it is by no means difficult to obtain an old
cockatoo, but so young a specimen as could be
selected from these little Joeys" promised much
in the way of education and docility qualities in
which the older birds are invariably lacking.
So I plied John Chinaman with questions:


"Will they never end this babble? Why do
they keep up such a squeaking? Are they so very
To all of which John, with just the ghost of a
Chinese smile on his yellow face, replied:
Can catchee plentee eat, no can make muchee
sing. How can ?"
This meant that it would be easy to keep the
birds quiet if they had enough to eat. That
would be easy enough, I thought, and forthwith
I bought one of the little parrots. But I soon dis-
covered my mistake, and after striving vainly for
twenty-four hours to quiet my new pet I gave him
into the keeping of a Melbourne bird-fancier until
I was ready to sail for home.
And so it came to pass that, about six months
later, I arrived in F I .. I- ii. ', having as a travel-
ing companion and pet possession a full-fledged
great white cockatoo -" Our Joe !"
The cockatoo, as you know, belongs to the par-
rot family, and receives its name because of its
peculiar call, or cry. "Our Joe" is a fine speci-
men of the species known as the sulphur-crested
cockatoo. He stands about fourteen inches in
height, and is of a warm white color, with the ex-
ception of the crest, the tail feathers, and the under
parts of the wings, which are tinted with a delicate
lemon yellow. His legs are sturdy, and his
strong claws-like those of all climbing birds-
have two toes in front and two reaching back-
ward; his strong curved beak suggests the tearing
propensities that make his. tribe the enemy of
the Australian farmer-being strong enough to

rest, deftly throws the broken food down his throat.
The plumes of his graceful crest are fitted into a
powerful muscle on the forehead, which forces it


crack :. ii-i ,.!:, and delicate enough toseparate a
canary-seed or split the thinnest visiting-card. His
funny thumb-like tongue, which is seldom at

~~ '- I
11, 'I I. - --

erect or folds it down, at will. Anger, excitement,
curiosity, surprise, or docility, all are expressed
by the motions of this curious crest, and of the
bright, black, bead-like eyes.
Before Joe had reached Philadelphia he had
learned many lessons. He knew how to be agree-
able to his friends, and-I grieve to say it-how




i885.s] "OUR

to make himself highly disagreeable when the fancy
seized him. These accomplishments he still pos-
sesses. He loves to torment the dogs and cats,
whose natural enemy he is, by the most provoking
barking or mewing. As a song-bird, it must be
admitted that Joe" is a total failure.
When his pranks lead to a well-merited punish-
ment, he assumes an air of injured innocence, and
calmly inquires, "What's the matter?" When
hungry, he declares over and over again, "Break-
fast ought to be ready If thirsty, he cries out,
"Joe wants a drink! And when sick from over-


eating, as is not unfrequently the case, he says
very plaintively, "Poor Joe and begs to be
After he had destroyed a number of cages pro-
vided for him he was finally given a standing perch
in the kitchen, and there he spends his time invent-
ing all sorts of plans and devices, by which to while
away his somewhat monotonous existence.
Cautiously leaving his perch, he scurries away to
the coal scuttle, and, clambering up its side, he
plunges into it, if he finds it only partially filled;
and then he proceeds l,... ...r..,ii, to unload the
coal, throwing it out, to the right and left, occasion-

or two, apparently lost in thought. Nature, how-
ever, has provided the White Cockatoo with a very
fine white powder which is 1.1. ,u 11ll :. 11.1., .1, ap-
parently from some portion of its feathers ; so that
in an hour after a coal frolic, "Joe is as cleanly
and white as ever.
He is a social bird, and can not bear to be alone.
He is fond of being on one's knees. From the
chair-back, or your shoulders, he will kiss you,
or will whisper pretty nothings in your ear. lHe is
,,11 given to whispering, indeed; ,and he is,
after his own fashion, much of a flatterer. Ap-
proaching you ,i i'ill saying in a subdued tone,


JOE. 49

all I i11 a sly observation to discover whether he
is attracting attention. He knows that this won-
derful feat will greatly interest the servant, and.
although quite well aware that he is doing wrong,
he cannot resist the temptation to have a little
lively fun at the expense of somebody else.
When discovered and dragged ignominiously
from the scuttle, he is a sorry sight indeed, Going
into it a very white bird, he comes out as black and
unrecognizable as the hardest-working coal-heaver.
Such a feat once performed successfully enables
him to remain quietly upon his perch for an hour


"Come on, Joe," he loiters around until he has
attracted your attention; and at the first encour-
aging word or glance, he starts up the chair-back,
or perhaps climbs upon your knee. If, on the
contrary, he is greeted with a testy Get out !" he
does not admit that he is disconcerted by his dis-
missal. He simply has business elsewhere; his at-
tention is immediately attracted along the floor to
minute fragments of nothing, which he proceeds
apparently to dine upon with great relish, mean-

while moving gradually toward the door. This
once gained, he turns, and, looking up at you,
makes two or three bandy-legged bounds, lets fly
a little satirical chuckle as if to say, I have my
opinion ofyou," and, with this Parthian shot, dis-
Among the accomplishments of this rather re-
markable bird may be mentioned :. .1. I,.... i. "
dancing, and an insatiable desire to play Hide-
and-seek." Concealing his head in a corner, under
a newspaper, or in a lady's work-basket,- if one
happens to be on the floor,- he will await patiently

the cry of whoop !" when he quickly uncovers
his head, only to replunge it out of sight for
another trial. An empty paper bag furnishes him
with much amusement in this way. It is only fair
to observe that his occupancy of the work-basket
is generally attended with serious derangement of
spools and needles; indeed Joe often withdraws
the needles and pins from the cushion and sticks
them into the carpet, one by one.
The strumming of a guitar or piano will set him

wild with glee, and he will dance, after a fashion,
which, if not the most graceful in the world, is
evidently highly enjoyable to himself. He can
waltz, too, and his favorite airs are in 2-4 or polka
time. Whatever sport he chooses to engage in,
he always obtains his full share of the enjoyment.
Joe is not only amusing and ornamental, but
he is also an excellent guardian, as he barks loudly
at all strangers, and has an instinctive aversion to
beggars and tramps. He has his full amount of
vanity, too. Decorate him with some pretty little
head-gear, and he will permit it to remain, undis-



1885.] "OUR JOE. 51

turbed, upon his top-knot, and will be highly now managed to escape, with much trepidation-
pleased with the admiration of his friends, and from one side; but gradually the entire collection
very proud of his fine looks and his decoration, of mannikins was placed around his perch, so that

A tragic episode in
Joe's career will
serve to close this
account of my queer
little waif from Aus-
tralia. It was really
a massacre of the
n Punch family-who
were ruthlessly sac-
rificed to the bird's
He always showed
great dread of dolls
or mannikins, and
this led us to tease
him by placing our
pet Punchinello at
the foot of his perch.
Fear of the uncanny
thing kept him a
close prisoner for
some time; but one
day he came cau-
tiously down the up-


right pole, and backed
judiciously away from the rear of the hated mon- they laid siege to him. At this "Joe" became
strosity. This provoked a new device; another greatly incensed. His crest rose and fell every min-


grinning figure was placed back of the stand. ute in the day. (It is a curious fact that it never
After long contemplation of the situation "Joe" seemed to occur to him that he might fly from

I ."

I W. -T
Aq ~


the perch. He has never attempted to reach it or
leave it in that way, but invariably climbs up or
down by means of his feet and beak.)
And now Joe's" life began to have a shade of
anxietyin it, until at last he became quite unhappy.
One memorable day, stealthily descending from
aloft, he dashed suddenly into the charmed circle,
and seized Mrs. Punch by her wonderful frilled cap.
Then, with crest erect and eyes flashing,-his form
trembling with rage and excitement,-he rushed
up the pole, and, once more safely aloft, he tore the
offending Judy into pieces, with an energy border-
ing on insanity. This tremendous effort sufficed

for the remainder of the day, during which he sat up-
on his perch with his feathers ruffled and trembling.
So, one by one, the members of that unfortunate
family fell victims to his hatred. For a long time,
he did not dare to attack Punch himself; but he
finally mustered courage sufficient to attempt the
capture of his arch-enemy, and, a few minutes
later, the terrible toy, stripped of his gilt and tin-
seled bravery, lay hopelesslybroken and disfigured,
upon the floor. On the wall, at the back of
" Joe's perch, now hang the mangled remains of
his victims an eloquent and pathetic proof of his
prowess as a fighting cockatoo.



SAUCEBOX, in your hickory high,
What odd fancy, I would know,
As I pass your province by,
Makes you chatter at me so?
One so elegant and spruce,
Should not mean it for abuse
Of a wayworn, sad recluse;
Neither let thy instinct fine
Fear for blunderbuss of mine!
Comrades, rather, let us be,
In these brown woods, gypsy-free!

Would I, too, could leave the fret
Wrought of drudgery and debt,
And could say to care farewell!
Leaving all the dusty town,
So with you a year to dwell!
Not a sunshine-checkered dell,
But we 'd hunt it up and down !
Not a wild-grape tangled nook,
Not a hazel-bordered brook
Haunted of the speckled trout,
But we 'd know it, in and out!

Under clump of briar and birch,
Slyly, Gray-back, would we search,
Where the partridge loves the best
To conceal her careful nest,
And the berried fruit is seen
Of the fragrant wintergreen !

When November, gray and chill,
Lays his hand on field and hill,
And the streamlet's song is lost

Under banks of frozen furze,-
And the wedges of the frost
Pry apart the chestnut-burrs,-
Ah, what pleasure should be ours,
Hearing wind and woodland battle,
While the ripened shagbarks rattle
To the ground in ivory showers!

Sometimes, on a '.:,.;,4 chip
(Woodsmen say), your breezy tail
Serves you as a kind of sail;
And with this queer sort of ship,
You achieve the dangerous trip,
Reaching safe the farther shore,
Alien kingdoms to explore!
Not more confidently brave
Sailed Columbus o'er the wave -
Buffeted and tempest-blown,
Westward, toward a world unknown

Ah, what joy can mortals feel
Who would shut you in a wheel?
For what kindness can assuage
Captive conscious of his cage?
Something 't is to be a pet,
Loved of humankind; but yet,
One unpleasant thought intrudes:
Were I you, in such a plight,
I should lie awake at night,
Homesick for the summer woods !
-But, as all discourse must end,
Fare you well, my little friend;
Prythee, comrade, meet me here,
When I call again, next year





THE rush of reigning monarchs to the Capitol
was incessant. Indeed, I have many a time been
actually hindered in the performance of my duties
as a page by the crowd of sov-
ereigns who surged through the j i..

corridors of the b
I met scores of the
ery day,- i.-L.n r..

I I'

'.jl 'I


ers. They seized on everything that they could
pull apart. At General Grant's first inauguration,
the President had scarcely retired from the grand
stand, when a crowd of citizens clambered up the
sides from the ground below, and, within a minute,
the chair which the Chief Magistrate had occupied
was split into a score of fragments,-one man
capturing a leg of it, another an arm, an-
other a part of a rung, and all march-
;'i _,- ing away with them as trophies
S of the event! After the fun-
eral ceremonies over
- -



untitled and uncrowned, yet wielding the scepter
of authority You never heard of them, do you
say? Why, I have been addressing some of them
all this while,-I mean yourselves and the rest of
the American people !
Ah! these "sovereigns!" Some of them, I
regret to say, had no respect for the sanctity of
the place. This was especially true of relic-hunt-

Senator Sumner, the relic-hunters sought to ob-
tain pieces of the mourning emblems around his va-
cant chair. The crape was cut into bits by a score
of knives. Indeed, the jack-knives even attacked
the mahogany of the desk itself, and I remember
that a policeman had to be stationed at the chair
to prevent further : -. !
I have seen these relic-hunters at their work on

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


(Recollections of a Page in tIe ULiiiedz Staies Senate.)



A .





; ~


several other solemn occasions. In fact they are
everywhere. They go to Mount Vernon to visit the
tomb of Washington, and break the mortar and
rocks from the walls of the old vault, cut twigs from
the shubbery and trees, and carry away any little
thing that will serve as a memento of the place !
They write their names on the walls of the dome of
the Capitol, and wherever they can get a foothold.
Such defacement is not patriotism, it is vandalism.
But the sight-seers proper are the "sover-
eigns" of whom I intended to write. They
ramble wherever they see an opening, and they
frequently are lost in the intricate maze of rooms
and corridors in the building. The most interest-
ing room, to most visitors, is the Rotunda. In it,
all classes of pilgrims congregate, and, on any day,
a person seated in one of the settees near the
wall can see many distinguished men and many
human curiosities pass through. The first thing a
stranger does upon reaching this place, is to gaze in
silent wonder at the vast proportions of the room.
Some visitors show marked interest in the paint-
ings on the canopy above. One group represents
"War," another Manufactures," and the others
have similar allegorical meanings. But the most con-
spicuous painting is a group of angelic Sisters,"
representing the thirteen original States surround-
ing the Father of his Country, who sits upon a cloud
with the epaulettes of a general upon his shoulders !
But these heroic" figures, if capable of appre-
ciation, would undoubtedly laugh as heartily at the
panorama below them as the tourists on the floor
laugh at the oddity of the spectacle above. It is one
of the most entertaining diversions to ascend the
stairs to the gallery and, leaning over, to study the
mass upon the floor. The people look like queer
pigwidgeons without bodies. All that one can see
are the tops of hats and a number of waving
"prongs" that stand for moving arms and legs !

I can not describe the scene, but must refer you to
the skill of the artist for a representation of it.
There was one ovation tendered to a visiting
"sovereign," by the House, of which few people
have ever heard. And yet its recipient belonged
to an order of kings who reign over every home
upon the habitable globe,- whimsical, fretful, dom-
ineering, yet good-natured monarchs! I mean
that small bundle of inconsistencies, that "bald-
headed tyrant from no-man's land,"-the baby !
He came to the Capitol one summer night,
and the first glimpse I caught of him was in his
mother's arms in the gallery of the House. It was
then about one o'clock in the morning, but the
hall was crowded with all conditions of humanity.
The speeches were dull and tedious, and even the
baby could not restrain his feelings of impatience.
So he cried with all his might!
Now, what do you suppose the law-makers did
when their proceedings were interrupted in this
way? Did they order their sergeant-at-arms to
arrest the offender and put him into jail for his
contempt? No! The member who had the floor
deliberately sat down, while the other Congress-
men wheeled upon their chairs and cheered The
galleries took it up, and the cheering lasted fully
a minute. Then the noise ceased in order to
give the baby a chance to respond. But he had
relapsed into a quiet mood. So the members and
galleries decided to call him out," and, with
cries of "bravo !" "encore !" and the like, the
applause broke out afresh And not until after
that little monarch had left the hall, was the so-
called "order" of the House restored !
But the incident I have narrated occurred during
a night session, when members and listeners were
ready to welcome any break in the monotony of the
proceedings; and it is not every baby who visits the
Capitol, that is accorded such a reception.

(To be continued.)


BY H. H. CLARK, U. S. N.

FRED MONCRIEF and Ben Aston, two wide-
awake American "middies," looked down from
the summit of Mount Pagus upon the blue iEgean
Sea and the buildings and busy quays of the old city
of Smyrna. The American frigate to which the
boys belonged rode at anchor in the harbor, and
the lads had obtained leave of absence, which they
were enjoying greatly.

Smyrna and the iEgean Islands were all well
enough in their way, but Fred's desires had a
wider range.
Let 's go down to Ephesus," said he, as they
stopped to rest upon the mountain-top, and to
take in the extended view. It will be great fun,
and I 've heard so much about the ruins of the old
place that I really want to see it. It 's only fifty



miles away, you know. We can take an army tent, nose sent back to Smyrna with the demand for a
and with our guns and a couple of donkeys we can heavy ransom. I like to read about brigands and

- -


manage to see the sights and have some sport Bashi-bazouks, but I have no desire to cultivate
besides." their acquaintance."
But," inquired Ben, "can we go so far from I think we need n't fear," rejoined Fred;


the coast without having trouble with the Turks ? travelers go to Ephcsus all the time, and I have
I 've heard that the caves of Ephesus are infested only heard of one who had met with trouble."
with robbers, and I don't care to have my ear or Fred's suggestion was speedily acted upon, and



in less than a week after the trip to Mount Pagus petition, was barking vociferously. Under Fred's
a little white tent marked the encampment of the supervision, the game of the night before was
two middies on one of the numerous eminences soon sizzling over the camp fire. Ben, having
overlooking the wide plain now strewn with the silenced the appeal of the donkeys with a plentiful
ruins of ancient Ephesus. "Nip" and
"Tuck," two rather unlp. i. .. .!..
donkeys, were tethered c.( i ..i
plateau just below; while I.. i i ..
fine setter crouching behind I I.. I
border of a marsh with tli ,. i i-" -
leveled at a flock of wild fc. I i 7-
alighted in the long grass .I ...
a bountiful supper.
Two simultaneous shot,.
the setter,-and then a hI,...I I..... I
birds was laid at the boys' !... i : .. .ii:...
sun soon admonished the, i ... .....
climb the hill where the.. i
prepare for their first niglhI. i- i.... :. r i
of Ephesus. They were .1 ..
camping out. Everything I. .. ... I-I I'
of as necessary to comfort 1 .. I-r
and there was really enough I i' .. I ... ,i
of a household.
But before "turning ir.." I,. '
their fine lookout, took a s ..i : .- i..., I I '
serted city. From thatvei -... ,,. -
sands of people might oncc .. ^ i
seen, while hundreds i .- -

the beautiful reach of .
water beyond. Now, '
not a human being was .', "
in sight, and the water .'"
was as desolate as an
Adirondack lake. A -'
feeling of lonesome- '
ness, almost of dread, ""i'' .i '- "
stole over the boys.
But presently the moon
arose and bathed every A I
object in a soft and '- -'
beautiful light the'
lads welcomed her joy-
fully, and, their feeling
of awe subsiding, they D E O T
were soon as soundly
asleep as if in theirham- -
mocks on the frigate. '..' '
Early in the morn- :
ing the lads were astir .
rations for breakfast. BE MISTAKEN." (SEE PAGE 58.)
Nip and Tuck"
were braying loudly for their morning meal, while supply of wheat cut from a field at the foot of the
"Scott," the setter which the English consul at hill, prepared a special breakfast for the dog, and at
Smyrna, had kindly loaned to the boys for their ex- last came at Fred's call to enjoy the fowl, hot from


the frying-pan, with its appetizing accompaniment
of hard-tack and coffee.
As they breakfasted, Fred, who was quite an
enthusiast in history and archeology, gave Ben all
the points as to the former grandeur of Ephesus.
He told him that there once stood, where now were
only crumbling walls and moldering blocks and
columns, a city imperial in magnificence, and one
of the wonders of the ancient world; that its streets
were as thronged with merchants and its docks
with shipping, as are those of the great city of
Liverpool to-day; that it was the capital of lonia,
the pride of Alexander, and as favorite a resort for
travelers, as is the Paris of our times. He told of
its theater which seated more than fifty thousand
people, and its stadium, or race-course, where foot
and chariot races were run and which would hold
one hundred and fifty thousand spectators. He
declared that in its prosperity the port of Ephesus
rivaled the greatest harbors of modern times in
vast breakwaters and miles of quays; and last of
allhe pointed to the spot at the head of the old har-
bor where once stood the marvelous temple of Di-
ana, one of the seven wonders of the world," four
hundred and twenty-five feet long by two hundred
feet wide, graced with one hundred and twenty-
seven columns, each sixty feet high,- a temple of
which it was said that the sun in all his course saw
nothing more magnificent.
By eight o'clock, everything was ready for the
day's work, and the boys set out in great glee.
Fred rode "Nip," while Ben bestrode "Tuck."
Thus mounted, with their guns strapped across
their backs and navy revolvers in their belts, they
looked as formidable as young Bashi-bazouks.
The donkeys were turned toward the old thea-
ter, which Fred, who was quite an artist, wished
to sketch, while Ben, who had a taste for architec-
ture, made a note of its measurements.
This is our first, or rather second, halting-
place," said Fred, as they drew up under an old
arch, where there was a good shade for the don-
keys. It had evidently been a part of the foun-
dation of the outer works of the great theater.
"What a fine place for sketching he continued,
as he drew forth his drawing materials, and quickly
threw the whole outline upon a page of his sketch-
book. There was little chance of a panic in such
-a theater as this," he mused, as his imagination
restored it to its original form. Do you see, Ben;
it was open at the top like a Spanish bull-ring; the
stage was almost level with the floor; while the
marble seats rose to a great height in a place hol-
lowed out of the hill in the form of a horseshoe."
"Think of it," he continued, as Ben, who had
been taking the dimensions of the front part of
the theater, joined him on the stage, this theater

would have held the whole population of our city
of Washington, and you could put every man,
woman, and child of Fall River in this audito-
rium now, and still have room enough for the
largest crowd that ever greeted Patti in London or
New York. There used to be more people pres-
ent at the Olympic games in Ephesus than any
exposition or carnival of our day could possibly
call together. I say, Ben, let 's sing a song on this
old stage-(it will :, .11 be a Greek chorus),
-and when we get home we can boast that we
have given a performance in the biggest thea-
ter in the world." So, with no audience save the
dog, the donkeys, and the birds, the boys sang
with a rollicking vehemence that might -or might
not- have called forth a storm of applause in the
time of Xenophon; but it is quite possible that
their song was the only one which had wakened
the echoes of the old theater for fifteen hundred
Come," said Ben, at length; '"we must n't waste
any time; we have a great deal to see. We might
spend a month exploring among these old ruins and
then not see half of them. Let us start now for
the Temple of Diana; it is some distance away, and
we must be more expeditious."
"Nip" started off at a vigorous pace, and
"Tuck" kept up as well as he could; while
".Scott," in an ecstacy of delight, chased the birds
along the way.
A long trench constantly impeded their prog-
ress. It was so very crooked, they were frequently
obliged to force the donkeys to leap it, and this
was no small task.
This," said Fred, "must have been the trench
which Mr. Wood, the celebrated English archi-
tect, cut in his search for the Temple of Diana.
Even the site of the building had been lost for
centuries. Mr. Wood read several ancient accounts
of the temple, and, from the descriptions given, by
opening this trench he found the street or rather
colonnade, leading to its very porch. Following
along, taking the course indicated by the ancient
authors, he came at last to the foundations of the
temple. He found a great many inscriptions and
fragments which were sent to England in a man-
of-war, and are now in the British Museum."
At this point the lads put spurs to the donkeys,
whistling, as they hurried on, to Scott, who was
not yet tired of chasing birds. They could only
glance at St. Luke's tomb, which Mr. Wood also
discovered, and which bears on a small, simple tab-
let a sculptured ox, the symbol of that Apostle.*
Past the ruins of theaters, and gymnasiums, through
the Magnesian gate, down by the ancient Cus-
tom-house, and along the wall of the inner har-
bor they rode, and presently dismounted where

* The ox. as the symbol of St. Luke is based on Ezekiel i., 1o.



the Temple of Diana once glittered in brilliant
Here we are exclaimed Fred.
"Is this all there is of the great temple ?" in-
quired Ben rather ironically. I have seen better-
looking ruins than this up the Hudson; it does n't
compare with the stone mill at Newport."
Well, all ruins are chiefly interesting on ac-
count of their history," was Fred's laconic rejoinder.
" It was the most wonderful building of ancient
times. Each of its one hundred and twenty-seven
columns was the present of a king; there were
beautiful folding doors of cypress-wood, and there
was a staircase made of a single vine from the
Island of Cyprus. Besides being a religious temple,
it was the great treasury of Western Asia; there
were times when it contained nearly as much
wealth as the Bank of England holds nowadays.
Alexander the Great offered to devote the spoils
of his Eastern conquests to it, if he were allowed
to place his name over the entrance; but the offer
was declined. The Ephesians were so enthusiastic
about it that the ladies of Ephesus contributed
their jewelry toward the cost of building it."
As Fred concluded, he leaped down upon the
marble pavement several feet below.
Come down here, Ben he called, "may be
we can find something worth taking home."
The boys were soon in a long narrow pit which
uncovered a strip of the ancient floor, and Fred
was digging vigorously with the end of a tough
root. Ben joined him with a commendable show
of energy.
What if we should find a little silver shrine of
Diana, such as we read about in the Bible ? pro-
posed Ben.
"I fancy all the silver about this building went
to the mosques of Constantinople and the cathe-
drals of Italy, hundreds of years ago," replied
Fred; but just then a shower of dirt disclosed a
small object which upon examination proved to
be a gold coin.
Luck has begun! shouted Fred, much elated.
Soon an exclamation of astonishment escaped both
boys as something, which they had taken for a
small square stone, broke away from the bank and
fell at their feet.
Perhaps it's a treasure-box cried Ben.
It could n't be possible." said Fred, that a
treasure-box of that size could have escaped all the
hands that have robbed this temple. But anyhow,
we 've made a discovery," he continued, as he
raised the object and began to dig away the rust.
In a moment, Fred found himself cutting into
solid silver; the box, too, proved to be very heavy.
"If we can get this box away," resumed Fred, "our
fortune is made. May be it holds some relic or

even jewels that were sacred to the goddess Diana.
It is heavy enough to be full of gold."
While our heroes were debating as to the possi-
ble contents of the box, a growl from Scott,"
and a slight sound on the edge of the pit, caused
the boys to look above them; and there they beheld
a startling spectacle. Gazing quietly down upon
them, stood two men whose hostile character could
hardly be mistaken. They were profusely and
heavily armed ; pistols and daggers protruded from
an apron-like arrangement in front of them, while
sabers in gleaming scabbards hung at their side.
They were dressed in the picturesque costume of
Bashi-bazouks, and their pistol-stocks and dagger-
hilts fairly glittered with the clusters of pearls,
corals, and precious stones which decorated them.
They were powerfully built men, evidently moun-
taineers, and probably brigand chiefs, Fred thought.
The men were so passive that the boys had time
to think a little about the situation, while their ob-
servers stood regarding them with the utmost cool-
ness, as though they already had them pinioned
captives. Singularly enough, they were without
rifles; this the boys noted at once. Either they
had none at all, which was improbable, or they
had left them at some point close by.
"We must get out of this pit first," said Fred,
under his breath. Then we can make a dash
for our guns, and if they send a pistol-shot after
us, we 'll pepper 'em back. Don't let them get
hold of you, Ben, for you see what giants they are."
If the brigands, for such they undoubtedly were,
had any suspicion that two youngsters like Fred
and Ben would dare do anything but peace-
ably surrender, they failed to show it. Obviously
they had been accustomed to having things their
own way; as yet they had been content with
making an imperative sign for the boys to come
out of the pit. Their cool audacity aroused Ben's
anger, which was all that was needed to overcome
his first and natural trepidation. With the .. -It'
of trained sailors, the boys swung themselves
out of the pit about a dozen yards from where the
brigands stood.
"Now is the time cried Fred, as they made a
dash for their guns, which the brigands had not
yet discovered.
There were two sharp reports and two pistol-
balls sung so close to our heroes' heads that they
could feel the thrill of the atmosphere along their
track. Another, and still another shot followed,
the last carrying away a piece of Fred's collar
and grazing Ben's right shoulder.
Suddenly the firing ceased, and the brigands
started after the boys at a tremendous pace.
Evidently their ammunition was gone, and by this
time they had discovered the boys' plan and their



own blunder in allowing them to get such a start.
They would easily be able to cut the boys down
with their sabers if they overtook them. The lads
could hear the heavy thump of the brigands' feet
upon the ground as, with rapid strides, they bore
down upon them. The guns were still fifty yards
away and their pursuers were gaining on them
every instant. Every ten yards they made brought
the brigands one or two yards nearer. The boys
threw all their strength into the race and bounded
forward like deer. Twenty yards, thirty, forty,
and now

'. : i 1 "
ti i: i ,
t i ',., t ,., .... ..
t !,-, ,. i -;u --: -" -- .
the'' l,_t ,: "--.-

The boys thought it might be well to get their
opponents at a little nearer range. Without low-
ering their pieces, they advanced a dozen paces.
While doing this, Fred made a discovery which
greatly pleased him.
Ben, glance over to the right, but don't move
your head an inch," he said in a low tone. Ben
did as directed; and there, half-hid by the pier of
an old aqueduct, only their heads and necks being
visible, stood two fine Turkish horses ; while, resting
against a snowy capital, glittered two beautiful


''? I
. ,
. '' -. '*J o -*.



,' '

(vfl i ~



made almost at a bound, and with a shout the
boys grasp their guns.
"We have them now, Ben," exultantly cried
Fred, as they wheeled, and each covered his man
with a deadly aim. "Don't fire," he added, quick-
ly, as the brigands, thus confronted, came to a dead
halt. We '11 save our powder and shot."
Events had taken a strange turn, and the as-
tonished brigands were now the ones to discuss the

rifles. "'We 'li ride into Ayasalook on those
horses," said Fred, in a determined manner.
" Those fellows meant to capture us. Well show
them what we can do."
But now came a rather difficult problem. The
brigands stood in a direct line between our heroes
and the horses. The slightest suspicion of what
the boys meant to do would cause them to hazard
the fire ready to open upon them any instant.
Should the boys succeed in only wounding the


brigands, when they recovered their rifles they
could easily pick off the boys at a long range, while
the middies had nothing but their shot-guns with
which to return their fire. While they held the
brigands directly under their guns and made no
demonstration toward the horses, the boys knew
they were safe. Now, the real generalship of the
fight came in. It required but a moment. A
bright idea flashed upon Fred. Directly to the
left of where they held the brigands under cover
of their guns was the pit where they had discov-
ered the silver box.
Ben," said he, we will fall back toward the
pit. We 'll make them think we are going after
that box. In that way we shall flank them; then
we 'll make another run and slip in between them
and the horses. We 'll keep them deceived until
they are nearly out of range, and then we '11 make
a jump to intercept them."
The boys fell back about forty yards, the brig-
ands plainly not discovering the ruse. The field
of action now represented a triangle, with the
horses at the apex and the boys and the brigands
at the angles of the base. Suddenly down came
the guns, and our heroes sprang for a point between
the brigands and their horses. So completely had
the robbers been deceived that the boys had full
thirty seconds' start before the enemy saw through
their maneuver. This time there were no pistol-
shots to risk. Though hindered by the weight of
the guns, the boys ran better than before. No
base-ball player ever made his home-run more
grandly than did they win the advantage which
was to bring them victory. At last they gained
the desired position and again formed in line of
battle. The sabers of the brigands flashed from
their scabbards as though they were about to
Fire kneeling kneel aim fire was the
command from Fred, according to the military for-
mula. Two barrels were emptied, and the left arm

of one of the brigands fell powerless at his side.
"Aim! fire was repeated, and another round
sent the brigands scampering.
It was an easy matter now to fall back to the
horses. Their uplifted revolvers warned their an-
tagonists that an advance from them would be
dangerous. When the boys reached the aqueduct,
they coolly placed their guns beside the rifles, and
while Fred kept watch Ben went around the pier
and led up the horses. They decided that it would
be better to ride in all haste to Ayasalook and re-
port the matter immediately to the governor of the
place. Should they delay, the brigands might be
reEnforced. Gathering up their arms, they leaped
into the saddle and, boy-like, could not refrain from
giving the brigands a parting salute of two guns as
they gave rein to their horses and dashed over the
plains of Ephesus.
They told their story in French, to the governor,
at the same time informing him that they be-
longed to the United States Navy. He at once
offered them a detachment of cavalry and the
use of the captured horses; and that evening they
rode back to their camp. When they reached the
Temple of Diana, they once more dismounted and
leaped eagerly into the pit to recover the silver
box. But the brigands had been too sharp for them
there, though. "Nip and Tuck were found
where they had left them, and everything about
the camp was undisturbed.
Fred," solemnly observed Ben, as the donkeys
were again loaded and they were about to start for
Smyrna, great was Diana of the Ephesians, no
doubt, as the people in the Bible story declared;
but if those fellows had once captured us, it would
have been the eighth wonder of the world if we
got away with whole skins."
"Or whole pockets," added Fred; and with
a sigh of relief, the middies joined their vessel
in Smyrna harbor, and abandoned all further dig-
ging and searching at the shrine of Diana.



OH, Birdie, fly! for the maple-tree,
Where your nest is hid so cunningly,
With scarlet flames is ablaze, I see.

For Autumn, that wanton, gold-haired boy,
Roams wild, with a 1i ,,,.1.. torch for a toy,-
And he fires the trees with a reckless joy.

On the maple's mantle the bright sparks fall,
On the creeping woodbine along the wall;
On the sturdy oak-trees, stanch and tall.

Oh, Birdie, fly! to the Southland hie,
For the woods are blazing beneath our sky,
And your home is on fire, Birdie,- fly!





WHAT to make for a Christmas present, is the
puzzling question for many a girl and many a boy at
the holiday season. Every one knows that a gift
that comes with the giver's own loving care and
labor wrought into it, has more real significance,
and is often more appreciated than the costly
presents that any one with money can buy. Some
years ago -in November, 1877- ST. NICHOLAS
printed an article describing more than seventy sim-
ple gifts that could J be made at home;
and t -it [.,." 'o : .I ges-
tion -. I... : ..i ., . i..-. ..i., .: l rg e
adv ,n-.:,: in .i,, :rI- i..: . .I. -igns
has bh.-n n ii ri. Iir l.: last
eig .: ar. ...1 new


:_- 3a.-n '

, -THE STAR R E." ..- IER.


collection of hints for Christmas presents is of-
fered in the following pages. All of the articles
here named can be made by industrious young folk
possessing taste and discrimination ; and gifts, both
useful and ornamental, may thus be prepared, at
a very moderate expense for material, but in a way
that will well express affectionate good-will.


is an attractive and useful wall decoration com-
bining a match-holder, burnt-match receiver and
striking-surface. Cut from heavy pasteboard a star
measuring six inches in diameter; cover with

red plush drawn smoothly over it and glued
to the back of the star. Cut away one end of a
small tin box, and cover the two sides and the
cover with red plush; run a band of fancy ribbon
diagonally across its face. Paste a piece of sand-
paper on the lower end, and attach this box to the
star by strong thread passed through holes in
the back of the box, and corresponding holes in the
star. Ten cents will purchase half a foot of the
light wire used as a seed protector around bird-
cages; cut and fold this in boat form of the re-
quired length; overhand the ends with red silk,
and attach it by this to,
f 1e star.



can be made by
any bright boy
handy with tools,
from a strip of half-
inch pine, thirty-

six inches long and
twenty-three inches '.
wide. Saw out a .
curved piece on one ', "
side, and plane the ,
whole board nicely. I .,
Outline with a lead
pencil the checker- \
squares, backgam- '
mon points, and '
yard-measure; get
a small quantity of 4. ALLIGATOR POCKET-BOOK.
black-walnut stain from any paint or drug store, and
with a small brush go over the board, tracing the
outline and making each alternate square or point
in solid color, as shown in the diagram.




Cut out six wedge-shaped pieces of paste-board
for the crown of the cap, a small perforated piece
for the top and a larger piece of proper shape
and dimensions for the visor bottom. Cover the six
wedge-shaped pieces with plush on one side and
silesia on the other, making three in dark colors and

three inlight -say
red and yellow,
dark red and light
blue, or purple and
white. Overhand
them together,
leaving a small
hole where they
join at top; cover
the perforated
round piece for the
button, and sew it
onatthetop. Cov-
er the visor with
two pieces of plush,
lapped in the mid-
dle, so as to form
a pocket for the
scissors; cover the
entire under part

4I .1



with plush also. Sew the bottom piece on at the
back only; fasten at the front with aloop and but-
ton. Place the ball of twine inside, passing the end
through the hole at the top.

4 / -\ t'w cents will purchase
I -.eces of scrap," at any
1-'. :.- factoryy where goods of
': -.,ror skin are made. Cut
iece to measure five and
i-,Il" inches long by three
--- '/- half wide, and another
I I '- /. :..r!... and a half by three
.. Round off the lower
\ r.., ,,.-.s of each piece; line
..-ia- with the soft kid used
I' -.ing the tops of ladies'
N. shoes. (Thismay
S1 be done on the
l machine at home
S- or at the nearest
shoefactory.) Lay
6. UMBRELLA-STAND. the smaller piece
and lining togeth-
er, and stitch them around the top; then place the
lining on the larger piece, and join the back and
front by stitching them all around, as nearly to

the edge as possible. If you try to do this on your
home machine, use a large needle and heavy silk.
The clasp, which may
be bought for a few -a- .
cents at any pocket- -
book manufactory,
should now be fastened
on, and an eyelet hole
worked in the flap to makt .
it secure. A card-case .. -
be made in the same ,

5. WINDOW--ii !,i
Purchase a sufficient quantity of hol-
land of desired tint,-"aqua marine or
"cream" are pretty colors,-and run a A FAN
hem I 3/ inches deep across the lower part BOOK-
of the shade. With an ordinary-sized
tea-cup, outline as many dotted circles as you
desire the pattern to include; then with a thimble
outline smaller dotted circles in the center of the
larger ones; draw lead-pencil lines from the center
to the circumference. With a long needleful of silk,
work these outlined circles on both sides of the hol-
land, securing the ends so that they will not be seen.
The linen fringe to match the holland may be pur-
chased at any shade store; stitch it by machine,
across the bottom of the shade, slip the curtain stick
-in.:. -i 1. the hem, and screw in a couple of curtain-
rings with cords to match the fringe attached. A
more elaborate shade may be made by using one
of the many transfer patterns," to be found at any
fancy store. This may be transferred to the cur-
tain by means of a
.. ... .. iron laid on the
I: -.-:k of the pattern.
Take a piece of
i i.:.ve-pipe of proper
length; cov-
Ser the out-
I ",- ,-.- side with
8. SCRAP-BASKET. bythe yard
at almost
any paper-hanger's; gild or bronze this with the
liquid prepared for such purpose. Paint the inside
of the pipe a dark red, and fit in a wooden bottom.

Cut off one corner of a full-sized, linen-lined
envelope (to be found at any stationery store), so
as to have it fit over the corner of the book-leaf



like a cap. Outline the lines and figures with a
lead-pencil, then go carefully over them with ink.
For variety, draw on some bright little flowers or
vines, a monogram, Christmas greeting, or such
other ornament as taste may suggest.

Get or make two pasteboard boxes of the de-
sired height, one of them two inches smaller in
diameter than the other.
-.'. I ,.:e one within the other,
S1 I . 'ning the bases togeth-
md join at the top with
r vo-inch strip of paste-
S..i rd sewed strongly
around the tops. Sew
a neat cretonne panel
on each side, with a
band of plush at top
and bottom and a
-- .- -. -, plush ball and tassel
at each corner. Line
with silesia to match
the plush. Or, the pan-
els may be of satin with
9. LETTER-RACK. flowers painted in.

Get a wooden box -a starch or soap box-
from your grocer. Take it apart, and plane and
smooth it carefully. Use the bottom of the box
for the back of the rack. Cut one of the end
pieces to a width of six inches, for the shelf; saw
the brackets for the sides of the shelf from the
side-pieces of the box, and cut the lid down to the
right dimensions for the slanting front of the rack.
Ebonize all the parts with the "ebony liquid"
used by cabinet-makers; nail shelf, brackets, and
slanting front securely; putty the nail-holes and
blacken them, so that they will not be noticed.
Cover the front of the rack with some neat border
design in Lincrusta Walton, gluing it on, and gild-
ing it, or leaving it the natural color, as desired.
Put strong cord or fancy wire through the back
of the rack to hang it up by.
Cover the face of a common flat-iron with plush,
cut an inch larger all around than the size of the
iron. Fasten on the thermometer- (which can be
bought at a slight expense) -as indicated in the
engraving; stitch a narrow piece of plush at the
lower end of the iron, turning down the upper
edT nd ctitching in three sections for
i .' I .-.,.. pockets. Paint or em-
-.I.-, flowers on the face of
r,. 0,.I Before covering therim,
_I,. ..":".t it a layer of cotton,
.:b.,,,.I:. with sachet powder.
i ll-, re plush smoothly over
i- 1: ....iton, and glue over the
.... .dge of the iron. Cover
i,.i ,.Iter edge with plush, and
*i, .r paint in black such
part of the handle
or iron as is not
covered with plush.

[- 12. A COVERED




Select two smooth and strong wooden butter-
plates such as are supplied by your grocer; cut one
down for the pocket, as the picture shows; place the
edges together and glue a strip of black muslin over
them. Give the whole two coats of black paint.
Paste on daisies cut from cretonne or, better,
paint them on if you can; varnish the whole rack
inside and out with white varnish; add hanging
ribbons to match the daisies.


For the back of this case cut a piece of cre-
tonne 33 inches by 28; also one of the same di-
mensions for the cover. Stitch these together.
Cut the cover piece in points; stitch a piece of


narrow braid around these points. Cut another
piece of cretonne 57 inches by 22 for the pockets;
mark it off into six equal parts, and form the pock-
ets by folding in box plaits
i:i.:ri... them by two rows of
i r..t.1 between each pock-
-. iang the case on a
L.i. s rod, orabroom-han-
.:!e covered with cre-
ronne, with a tuft of
worsted or a cretonne
-in rosette at each end.
Fasten it at the
back, and hang it
../. byloops. This case
may also be used
without a rod, sew-
a ing a half dozen
S-. loops at regular in-
SY- '. tervals tohangitby.

Over a piece of
heavy brown paper
of the size of the
proposed banner,
stitch a piece of
light sea-green cot-
ton flannel for the
central panel, and
13. CHRISTMAS BANNER. very dark cotton
flannel for the bands at bottom and top. The
pendant balls are made with the dark flannel over
round pieces of pasteboard. Suspend them on gilt
cord; a heavier cord, to match, should be used for
hanging the banner. Sew a piece of natural holly
in the central panel; cut the letters from white
paper; glue white cotton on their faces, and
then sew the letters to the dark bands. Glue or
stitch small bits of cotton all over the banner
to suggest snow. Larger pieces should be glued
at the top of the bands and upon the pendants.


capable of holding several dozen cabinet or im-
perial cards may be made by folding a piece of
plush together and cutting it two inches larger
than the card. Cut out a piece of wigan for
lining, a trifle smaller, and baste it on the plush ;
then baste the plush, and line the edges with
satin, hemming this on with very fine stitches.
The pockets are of plush, one-quarter the width of
the case; turn the edges of these and hem them
to the back. Decorate the pockets with Forget-
me-nots," or some other appropriate flower.

Get four bamboo sticks from some furniture
factory, or four rustic sticks if bamboo is not
obtainable; gild the rustic sticks if these are used.
Purchase a fancy straw basket, as shown in engrav-
ing; line it with satin. Make the lambrequin of
plush of the color of the lining; cut the lower edge
in squares and point each square. Embroider a
spray of flowers in the space between the sticks.
Line it with satin and attach to each point a tassel
made of crewel. Fasten the lambrequin over the
inner edge of the basket so as to conceal the top
of the lining. Mount the basket on the sticks,
tacking it on from the inside.
To make the pansy, cut three pieces of purple
velvet, and three of yellow silk, line with bits of
white wigan, and join as nearly as possible in
pansy form. Cut a back to fit the whole, cover


this with purple velvet, and join it to the pansy
with a layer of cotton between, sprinkled with
sachet powder. A few lines of yellow paint on the
purple leaves, and purple on the yellow leaves will
give more of the pansy look. The star is formed
of twelve diamond-shaped pieces of card-board -
six for the front and six for the back, alternately
covered with dark and light plush or velvet. Over-



hand the parts together, and join the back and
front of the star, placing a layer of scented cotton
The domino is made of black satin ribbon, cut
to just the size of a domino. Work the dots in
with white silk; glue
both faces to stiff i
card-board; make a
narrow edge of black
satin, overhand the
dominos ...rl, ;
fill with bran and I
sachetpowderbefore V -
closing up one end.

17. A CARD-

may be made by cut-
ting three pieces of
rattan, each nine
inches long, and '
joining them at the '
top by tying them ;i
together with strong
thread. Spread two -
of them far enough

,.i ...- i, ,

p!IiC ab 1a k csbt. CUOL [lit. e.ICI-IP- a
perfect square-from a piece of Panama canvas;
bind the edges with narrow brown satin ribbon,
and work some little pattern in the corners with
brown silk; fold and overhand the lower parts A
together into envelope-shape, and fasten it on the
easel. Ravel out a piece of the canvas and tie a
bunch of the traveling at the top and at each foot
of the easel with a ribbon bow. I

Take a "scrap" of ,i!i,. ,. skin, and cut two
strips, each five and a half by three inches; clip the

corners to a "tag" shape. Cut out the center of
the upper strip, leaving a margin half an inch wide;
stitch this margin to the under strip on three
sides, leaving the clipped end unstitched; fasten
on this end a little strap and buckle for attaching
the tag to the trunk handle. Cut several blank
cards to fit the frame, and slip them in, ready for use.

Cut out eight pieces of pasteboard, each 81
inches by 6%. In four of these pieces cut away
the centers to form the mats or inside of the screen.
Cover each mat neatly with wine-colored satin, let-
ting it overlap the opening in each mat about half
an inch; slash and baste around each opening.
Cover the back of the mats with silesia and hem
the satin on this. Cover the other four pieces with
satin on one side and silesia on the other; over-
hand them around the edges. Baste the mats
and backs together, silesia inside, and over-hand
ilr. t..gether on all sides
S.... i-. tle top, which is left
i".. i'.. slipping in the pho-
S''. Decorate each mat
S .. I .nd gracefully. The
.1! 1 1 ... of the person to whom

. I. een is to be given may
-ked on the outside.

I'o the bottom of a
I .nd box-say a collar-
.. -about four inches
dI iameter and one and
a half high, glue
a piece of paste,
board as a rim.
z..i- Do not use the
cover. Fill the
box with curled

17. A

TG. -7 -

lair. Crochet, from straw-colored Saxony worsted,
Cover to fit snugly over the box and thus form the
:rown of the hat; crochet a -il... I rim on this
nd draw it over the pasteboard. Tie a ribbon
around the crown as a hat-band, with a bow on
ne side, as shown in the diagram.


'. .: ~I
/,' c--- I



Cut two pieces of silk or cashmere, each eleven
inches long by nine wide; use white wigan for

on strips of either white ribbon or bright worsted
braid. Fasten the ribbon ends in the notches;
make bows at each end and one in the center.

IA-~---r- -_~-

ii i i

f~ 2'

P1 I I\
.1 -/i 'I i

interlining; baste the lining on; make the little
caps and straps of wigan, cover them with plush,
and then sew them in place, as here indicated.
Baste on the outer cover, turn the edges, and sew
the case together. A button and loop should fas-
ten it on the outside when rolled up.

Make three little well-proportioned plain bags
of silk, or any choice material (three and a half
by four and a half inches is a good size); stitch a
place in the top of each to run a double cord
A / A/-- Nholestitch
I the hole
.-l '1i'. ..' Se ". wherethe

Cut two pieces of thin
card-board, eight inches
by ten. Embroider on
the upper cover a cob-
web, as in engraving,
first outlining it with a
pencil, and then going
over the lines with long
stitches. Bits of willow
fastened around this
make a rustic setting for
the web. Line the under
side of the cover with

silesia, place a quantity of tinted tissue leaves be-
tween the covers, and join the whole at one
corner with a ribbon bow to match silesia lining.

- -

N----- _G -L C ----



cord passes through, and join the bags
This idea may be followed out for bags i
from small silk ones for the work-basket
calico ones used for
rags and patches.

The spiders are made of putty painted black,
S and with legs of fine wire. These webs can be
purchased ready-made, but are perhaps rather
too expensive for the nature of the gift.
together. to keep boiled eggs warm until ready to be eaten,
of all sizes may be made of plush lined with chamois skin.
t to large Cut three pieces of plush and three of silk, into

- --= ',, i, .

Buy a small wooden / ''
hoop at a toy store; /
smooth and trim it nice-
ly, and cut in it four 22. TRIPLE WORIK-BAG.
notches at equal distances apart; get a quantity, the shape shown in the diagram, and large enough,
say two dozen, of small ivory or wooden rings from when joined, to snugly cover an egg; join the
an upholsterer's, and slip these in equal quantities plush and lining together by overhanding the



chamois on the plush. The silk forms the inner
lining. Any ornamentation can be applied in the
way of embroidering or painting.

Into the center of a toy row-boat fit a small glass
inkstand. Fasten a couple of brass hooks on each
side as pen-racks. The bow and stern of the boat
can be used for holding stamps and loose pens.
The boat can be left plain or may be decorated,
according to taste.

I "I

-. .
,', . '


Pen-wipers in the form of little hats (fi
are pretty and are easily made. For No. I, c, i .
pieces of light cloth, bell-shaped; overhai.. 'h..
edges together, and turn it up to form a
rim; run a narrow ribbon around the --
crown, and stitch a couple of little feath-
ers in this band. Fit four pieces of
chamois skin inside the crown, tacking
them in at the sides as pen-wipers. No. 3 is made
in the same way without turning the rim, and
adding, perhaps, a bit of painting on one side.
No. 2 is a tiny fez; make this of dark-red plush or
velvet; cut a round piece for the crown, and a
broad piece, slanted at the back to fit. Baste
them over pieces of wigan of similar shape and
then join together. Fasten a tassel of black silk
at top. Fasten inside for a pen-wiper a tuft of
chamois-skin made like a heavy shade tassel.
For fig. b. select two good clam-shells, bore a
hole in the hinge of each, gild both shells and
glue some sea-weed, if you have it, on one sec-
tion, or, if not, paint some Christmas motto in its
place. Tie the shells together, first placing leaves

of chamois inside as pen-wipers. Infig. c, the lily
is made of white felt, for which twenty-four pieces
should be cut as nearly the shape of the lily petals
as possible; then cut out a half-dozen pieces of
dark-green felt for
leaves, making the
veins on one leaf
with a lighter,-
shade of green
silk. Sewthepet-
als to this leaf to -
form the lily, tak- -.
ing a little plait
in each leaf before , .
sewing, so as to 'i -
make it stand out. /
Make the stem of --
wire wound around
with green arra-
sene. The plain
leaves e plsew 24. COVER FOR SHAVING-PAPER.
leaves are sewed
on the back and can be easily replaced with new ones
when soiled. Old kid can be used in place of cham-
Make the pin-cushion, needle-book, and scissors-
case of such silk, satin, or cashmere as you may
have at hand. Make the emery pouch of brown silk


2. C.-


or cashmere over an acorn ; cut
i ut out so as to fill the
*..l'h with emery, but glue
lie natural acorn-top to
the silk nut. Fasten to
each article a strip of
ribbon, or silk braid,
half a yard in length;
-" join these at the top
with a bow, and sew

a large safety-pin on
the under side of this
bow for the purpose
of pinning the com-

bined articles to the dress of the user.
i ..!1,. I.. .; of all sizes, from the toy pin of a
few inches to the ordinary kitchen size, can be

- -

utilized for making key-racks. Gild and otherwise
decorate the rolling-pin; insert brass hooks at
regular intervals and suspend by bright ribbons.



_ E



The bars of music may be drawn on the gilding
with pen and ink; if the verse is not desired, cover
the body of the pin with plush to match the
ribbons used.
Another rack may be made in imitation of a pad-
lock, as in the engraving.
Outline a padlock six and
S a half inches long by four
S and a half wide, on a well-
i:'ll smoothed, half-inch pine
I! board. After sawing this
into shape, cut a piece of
Spasteboard a trifle larger
S' than the face of the wooden
,: padlock, and cover it with
Splush; tack it tempora-
S.1 rily to the wood until

ing side; use white
wigan to interline it,
and thin silk for the
real lining; turn in
the edges and over-
hand the sides to-
gether. Insert a
small pocket in the
upper right-hand
corner for the order
of dancing; trim
both pockets with
soft lace. Let the
bow at the bottom
andribbon atthe top
match in color and
material; paint a




the brass hooks are
screwed in place, then
draw out the tacks, cut
a blank key-hole from
white paper, gild it and '
glue it in place, gild the
handle of the padlock, T
and decorate with a
bow of satin ribbon .
to match the plush.
These key-racks can '
be hung on any peg
or nail within easy
reach, and are often
a real convenience to
the owner.


to be worn with a party
dress, and in which the
handkerchief and order
of dancing may be
placed, should be made
of white satin, or of any
material to match the dress.



.: -.- .'. --.'--' - ....- -:- .. .. - -- .

S.. - -



Fold the goods more elaborate than


spray of flowers
above the bow, or
use either natu-
ral or artificial
Sones; accom-
pany the gift
with a little fancy
pin, for fasten-
ing it to the
S Several articles

S .' '

.- i'


so that it measures six inches across the top; here shown, and yet not too elaborate for home
and eight and a half inches on largest or slant- manufacture, may be seen in any fancy store.





fl'T'p p,, n._-' PTrr n-ninc ppopin1- rl n nrl

J ., I .. ... i . I. .
. l, .I .,_

* IFt----

,2 ,'. -r ,. -

--,, i,' ';I, :': .
;; ,,l* ii 'II,'' II
S , I ,,,

'I ,, '

Where here and there a building stands,
And town and country-side join hands,
Before me stood a massive wall
With engine-rooms and chimneys tall.
To scale the place a way I found,
And, creeping in, looked all around;
There bicycles of every grade
Are manufactured for the trade;
Some made for baby hands to guide,
And some for older folk to ride.

"Though built to keep intruders out,
With shutters thick and casings stout,
I noticed twenty ways or more,
By roof, by window, wall and door,

Where we, by exercising skill,
May travel in and out at will."

Another spoke, in noise slow
To catch at pleasures as they go,
And said, "Why let another day
Come creeping in to drag away?
Let's active measures now employ
To seize at once the promised joy.
On bicycles quick let us ride,
While yet our wants may be supplied."
So when the town grew hushed and still,
The Brownies ventured down the hill,
And soon the band was drawing nigh
The building with the chimneys high.


When people lock their doors at night,
And double-bolt them left and right,
And think through patents, new and old,
To leave the burglars in the cold,
The cunning Brownies smile to see
The springing bolt and turning key;
For well they know if fancy leads
Their band to venture daring deeds,
The miser's gold, the merchant's ware

., ,. : ,- ,. ,1 ,
Ii,.r i..,. .: .I.....i ... I I, . .. i.
-. .. .:! ,- I ,, I 1.

But whether red or green or blue,
The work on hand was hurried through;
They took the wheels from blacksmith fires,
Though wanting bolts and even tires,
And rigged them up with skill and speed
To answer well their pressing need.
And soon, enough were made complete
To give the greater part a seat,

For paint and varnish lately spread
Besmeared them all from foot to head.
Some turned to jay-birds in a minute,
And some as quick might shame the linnet;
While more with crimson-tinted breast
Seemed fitted for the robin's nest.

And let the rest through cunning find
Some way of hanging on behind.
And then no spurt along the road,
Or 'round the yard, their courage showed,
But twenty times a measured mile
They whirled away in single file.



Or bunched together in a crowd
If width of road or skill allowed.
At times, while I..i;,i down the grade,
Collisions some confusion made,
For every member of the band,
At steering wished to try his hand;

Until the turning-point was won.
Then back they wheeled with every spoke,
An hour before the thrush awoke.

When next the morning whistle blew
For men their labors to renew,

Though some, perhaps, were not designed
For labor of that special kind.

But Brownies are the ones to bear
Misfortunes with unruffled air;
So on through rough and smooth they spun

The foreman looked at this and that,
And freely blamed the watchman, Pat,
Who must have been asleep in bed
While such performance went ahead;
But neither foreman, "boss," nor "hand,"
Once thought about the Brownie band.



iI -1

I tl ~



V" n,. .

.' T I
,., _ .

i 'J AC K- IN IHE-Pi

HERE we are again, my merry friend
do we find ourselves? Where, but
with November,--to my mind the
child of all the year's twelve.
You see November is just like some
chaps who are too old to go with b
young to go with men. You feel qu
of place, in spite of yourselves. So doe
He is not quite strong enough for wi
has too much go" in him for autumn
to be warm, and he is afraid to be col
name shows his contrary state of r
no vember You justtry to be no vel
where you find yourself,-especially i:
quite sure what a "vember" is.
And right here comes the point of
I want you to help this poor troubled
patient with him. Put all the cheer
can, and be kind, generous, graciou
so as to make every one at home say :
a delightful, pleasant month Nove
cl. Ir.:... indoors and out! "
-.,.I ,ow let us hear from our friend
who knows all about those

DEtR JACK: Many different appearances are s'
sky, and called lunar rainbows, which come front
A lunar rainbow is like a solar rainbow, only paler
less. The rainbow is such a curve that if it we
would make a perfect circle. Now, as a fact too d
here, the center of this circle, the eye of the obser
must lie in a straight line, the bow on one side of th
rain is falling, the moon on the other, and the o
Now, Jack, you can never see a bow which is
circle, because the line running from the moon a
pulpit cannot strike higher than the horizon, so ot
can be above the horizon. A rainbow was once sec
so high up as to show the whole circular bow.
A triangular prism of glass bends aside the light

nd through your
nly half the circle
n from a balloon,

that falls through

size, ripen, and renew themselves e a c h
year, and are as good to eat as if they
had been encased all summer in the warm, prickly
jacket that their brothers always wear. Does any-


it. Ordinary light, you know, is made up of blue and green and
yellow and red light, and all sorts of between shades. The prism
not only bends the ray of light, but it bends the blue part most, the
green next, the yellow next, and the red least; so that if we catch the
.. .. ray on a piece of paper, after it has come through the prism we shall
Shave, not the one little white ray that went in, but a band of colors
-blue, green, yellow, and red. Rain drops, ice crystals, and even
fog, have the same power as the prism.
In a rainbow, a part of the rays from the moon, besides being bent
aside, as they enter the rain drops, are bent back from the farther
side and spread out into color.
S A fog-bow, like a rainbow, is on the opposite side of the sky from
the sun or moon. Mr. Whymper, an Alpine tourist, tells of a won-
derful fog-bow he once saw. He, with four companions, had been
climbing over the ice-fields. Suddenly all four were lost down one
of the fathomless ice-clefts, and lie was alone in the awful solitude.
S He looked up to the sky, and there a great bow spanned the heavens,
i and within it were two large white crosses.
The bows described in the children' letters are not lunar bows, but
the whole or parts of halos orcoronas around the moon. Such circles
are caused by the light's coming to the eye through prisms of ice or
S fog, the light is bent aside or refracted, and spread out by the ice or
i ,i case of the rainbow. In a halo the light comes through ice-crys-
talks; these are commoner in winter, and in the far north. In a
S corona it comes through fog; these are more frequent in our climate.
A halo you can tell from a corona, because the innermost color of the
ring is red, while in the corona it is blue. Your readers can make
U L P I a little corona for themselves by sprinkling some lycopodium powder
on a piece of glass, and looking through it at a light.
The rings R. L. F. saw around the sun were halos; the "sun-dogs"
s, but where or mock-suns" were parts of halos, caused bya very peculiar condi-
face to face tion of the ice-crystals, which makes only round spots in certain parts
of a halo visible. I think he must have made a mistake as to the
most trying time of day when he saw them.
The full explanation of all these curious bows and spots can be
)f you young made, and worked out like an example in arithmetic, but it is too
toys and too difficult to be given in a few simple words. Yours truly,
teer and out S. B. H.
.nter and he
n. He scorns ONE of my young friends,-a city boy who
d. His very spends his summer on a fine farm among the Cats-
nind. He 's kills,-sends a picking from a curious chestnut-
iber, and see tree in the village of Free-
f you are not hold, N. Y., ir... f, -
from Bagley Ft, !- .
ny discourse. It: i .:1.:- .
Fellow. Be wit ....I. -
into him you The lrl- I ..
s, and jolly, nut- r ,t .. .
SWhy, what so r ,-
mber is! the i l.- 1ir '
are -. -
d, S. B. H., kep c in

A. \ h .ricckly
: ,, \ ,, until
SPorINT, N.J. ,a i Frost
sen in the night- shal.. L ti I ' -.. bursts
n various causes. int(. I, .- 1' '" -, this
,and more color-
:re carried out it spe. Ii.. i., : -- .- ve ey
difficult toexplain sen.l: 1. 1..,I 1 r i ..:r in
verand themoon buoi.'i: : :t ri. .. '* U. and
e heavens, where COv'.! .1 .,.', i- .-n ; no
observer between, bu:, ..i : : j. t h em,
more than half a Atnn e,,e Thn.,,t-,, n ir, .,, A


body else know of a chestnut-tree without burrs ?
Amos says the farmers tell him it is the only one
known in that region, and they re-

ad .' I .. I H .. .. I .,r ,
'' I. , ',' '' ', I',, -. ..r

I l i:T : r i .I : ,, r i
-I. A. T' '- C

-T -i I- -


.. -,--




F,_ .- -

z K_
-. .-

I:-I- ':

another that there is not more than an inch of space between any two,
and the little copper-skinned native often pricks his fingers badly
while gathering the sharp needles.
wlbh, th,- h-se collected a large quantity, they cany them home,
i .. I .. iangs them on lines in front of the low adobe hut.
S i ...- s' exposure to the sun, the juice dries out, and the
*. 11 .. i '.i ads are ready for use.
S. .oad stations near Monterey," says my friend, "I
S g sight. On the floor were piles of cloth made from
i. .. ,.. of the Maguey and woven in a loom of simplest
S. i to that in which the Chinese manufacture their

i i. . I leather costume, sat an Indian, folding bags inwhich
S... ... s are exported to New York and other cities.
r d around him were scores of these natural nee-
He used them to join three sides of the bag with
ior of cross-stitch. They were then filled with the
nuts, and closed at the top with a twine twisted
from the same fiber."
'How many vexations a little Mexican girl
may be spared in making her doll's wardrobe
by the use of this slender, eyeless needle, "not
hard to pull through," and a thread that never
comes out, because it has grown there, and will
never twist nor get into a snarl! Kind Nature
has supplied this half-civilized people, who are
not ingenious enough to invent intricate machin-
ery to produce these articles, with a needle that
never breaks, already filled with many threads.




.'._ . ..... '

the Maguey-plant, shown in the accom- -
panying picture, grows wild, it is called the
"needle-and-thread plant." The Indian boys
search for it and, on finding one with dark-brown thorns, they grasp
the thickened end, and, with a quick jerk, pull out the spines, or
needles, with their sinewy fibers, or threads, attached.
In some varieties, these woody thorns crowd so closely upon one

... .ost curious uses of this thread is the making of a
.,, 1. from it. The shape of the brush is like that of a
'curtain-tassel, and it is made from the fibers doubled over and
tied around with a twine. Once a week the squaw has the
task of combing her husband's long raven locks with thisbrush.
She sits on a rude bench, her spouse at her feet, while she hum-
bly performs this household duty. He then returns her kindness
and carefully smooths her glossy hair.-Your friend,
A. W. W.





WE hope ST. NICHOLAS will not seem like a stranger to you
because it comes this month in a new and shining dress. Indeed,
it should seem more familiar,-more like an old friend than ever,-
because its new garb is so becoming and so beautifully symbolizes
the spirit and the purpose of the magazine.
The cover which appears for the first time this month was de-
signed by Mr. Sidney L. Smith, who was for some time associated
with the La Farge Decorative Art Company of New York City.
The beauty of the drawing speaks for itself, and can hardly fail to
give pleasure and satisfaction. But it would be wrong to regard the
design as a mere piece of decoration. The view through the grace-
ful archway suggests the youthful outlook upon the world of nature
and civilization; and the morning of life is further symbolized by
the sunrise, in which Apollo, who, in the old mythologies, was the

god of youth and music and light, is driving the chariot of the sun.
In the upper right-hand corner, a little winged figure with a horn
of plenty may well represent the unceasing abundance of stories,
sketches, and verses that ST. NICHOLAS offers to its readers; and
in the opposite corner, three similar figures display the book and
the palette (the seal of The Century Co.), which stand for [the
t ork of author and artist combined. The same idea is suggested
by the scroll and the pen and crayon in the lower right-hand corner,
and that part has also a special interest because, in the little circle
there shown, there is to appear, each month, the sign of the Zodiac
for that month. This time, we have Sagittarius, i/e Archer-which
is the sign of the Zodiac for November; next month it will be
Capricornus, the Goat; for January, Aquarius, ike Water-carrier;
and thus on the cover, month by month, you can find the succession
of the twelve signs that in old times symbolized the circuit of the


CANTON, N. T..1 .-:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will not Lieutenant I -I ,. '- r.
the many readers of his interesting papers, how the weight of the
roof of an Eskimo igloo is sustained ? Do the native builders under-
....1 i'.. .- 1.. -1. ad vaulted dome and employ them
..... .... .. bricks, or are the blocks of snow
.. i. !.. boy in our north countryhas tried
. .. I 11. ,. i. . the pictures, not always with suc-
.'. 1 r I .. just how it is done.
Yours truly, N ELsON L. ROBINSON.

The roof of an Eskimo igloo is like the half of an egg-shell, it
being impossible to say where the walls cease and the roof begins.
Not only does this perfect dome sustain its own weight of six or
eight inches of building snow (in the snow-blocks), but it can sus-
tain, besides, two or three feet of loose snow, and the additional
weight, even, of two or three people working on the roof. That the
native builders understand thoroughly and practically the principles
of the arch and dome is proven by their perfect construction of
domed igloos, and by their making the dome more pointed in the
fall and spring (when the snow is weaker and more liable to tumble
in), and flatter in the winter, when the material is good. In any
other shape than that of a dome the igloo would not hold together
for a minute, as the blocks are not frozen together, at least until a
day or two after the igloo is completed.
One of the reasons why boys fail in building snow houses in our
country is because the snow is not of the proper consistency. The
thermometer must have been down to 400 F., and several gales must
have "packed" the snow before even an Eskimo would use it. In
fact, until the snow is of proper consistency the igloos are built of
ice, as explained in the September ST. NICHOLAs. There would be
very few days in the year in the coldest parts of the United States
when even an Eskimo could build a good igloo. And then, too,
even if everything were favorable, igloo-building is an intricate art,
and until the boys here can show a sealskin diploma or shall have
graduated at a cold-weather kindergarten in the Arctic, they can
hardly hope to be successful. FREDERICKi SCHWATKA.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Tht.. . t young folks can play
which consists in letting one I .... I thing without naming
it, .. i .. i. i... guess what it is. Here is an instance:
I ... ..I --,i I ,i.. n ht -i trhe child of the day. Some
dr--, .-.. -. hate me, I.... ... -. good companion. I have
I I ., a mile, but no one ever heard my footfalls. Some-
times my master sends me on before him; but, as he travels as
quickly as I do, he sends me back, sometimes, and I have to follow
in the rear. It is impossible to estimate my exact height. Nobody
has ever looked into my eyes; nobody has ever incurred my anger.
I sometimes in my haste run over people, and am sometimes tram-

pled under foot by them. When my master writes, I always hold
a pen by his side, and when he shaves I generally take a razor, too.
I have traveled a great deal, and am very old. When Adam walked
in Eden, I, too, was there; and when any new member of Parlia-
ment goes to the House of Commons, I nearly always accompany
him. Robinson Crusoe was disturbed by my approach when I vis-
ited him on the island ofJuan Fernandez. Although I have no eyes, I
..11 .. i1; :1. .,r 1:_1.. I am of very active habits, although I
S: .. r1.. .Ii .I .1.., co move. Tell me my name.
The answer is, A Man's Shadow."
Yours truly, LULU M. B- Webster, Mass.


OH, dear! sighed Patty, as she sat beside the window looking
out on the dull, wet street, other girls have Thanksgiving dinners,
with turkey and plum pudding, and mince pies and all sorts of
things. I wish I could. So! "
Her book went down on the floor with a bang, and she sat for a
long time with her head in her hands, -i... .
Patty lived in a shabby little house I.rl. way out of the city.
Her father and mother were poor, and had four other children besides
Patty, so that Patty could not have a great many things that she
wished, and the two things that she wished most just now were a
T1, ..1 _: ;..- dinner and a wax doll.
i :, i will go out for a little while; there is nothing else to
do," said Patty, at length, getting slowly out of her chair and picking
up her book.
I wish a big turkey and a plut- r.i;;.- _- ---- -1---r ---- -- c
thesky; but I am selfish to wisl I I ...... I..., i i .
father and mothercan'taffordit. .. i i.. .. .- I . .. .. ..
things; so I will try to give up cheerfully," and Patty sighed, for
she had looked forward for a long while to the good time they were
going to have at Thanksgiving, and it was a great disappointment
to her that they could not have it after all.
She put on her hood and cloak, and went out into the street. She
soon reached the city, nn.l -t--iht-"--" forgot everything else in her
pleasure atlooking at r ..., i i all dressed up as ladies and
... .... . ... I.. .... j babies, seated around a Thanks-
..,. i.. 1. .' 1 ich was covered with good things.
j.. ..... 1. i .. I slipped into hers, and a little voice said:
"Will oo peas lif' me up so me tan see de pitty dollies ? "
Patty looked down in surprise, for standing beside her on the
sidewalk was a little boy of about three years old. He had light
curly hair and dark brown eyes, and was dressed in a coat and cap
of gray fur, with velvet gaiters, and shiny new rubbers. She
stooped down and lifted him up so he could see.
Did you come here all alone. Where is your mamma ? asked
My mamma is at home. I tummed all by myself to see de pitty
dollies. I tood n't wait for nursy," explained the little fellow.


"Where is nursy?" asked Patty.
"I dess see's dorn to walk," answered the baby, with his eyes fixed
on s -e- 4'-e doll at the end of the table.
I you live? asked Patty again.
I lives wiv my papa," he answered, with his eyes still on the
"But where does he live ? inquired Patty, finding it rather hard
to --t -r-- formation from the little boy.
Pi. I. wiv me, and my name is Harry, an' his name is
Papa," said Harry, and seeing she could not get anything from
him, Patty put him down on his feet, and taking his hand, led him
down the street.
I 'se tired and I want to doe home," he wailed at last, when
they had gone a little way.
Harry, ': -" 4 F -- ind don't cry, and I'll take you home as
soon as I ca.. i gathering ti. 1-il. .ii ., in her arms
and :. 1. ears thea atwerebeo* *..... r I large brown
eyes. . into this drug store and perhaps the man will
know where you live." The man was very kind. but had never
seen the little boy before. He asked him a great many questions,
just as Patty had done, but could get no better answers than she
had received.
"I wants my mittings, my han's is cold," said Harry; "they
are in mine potet."
As Patty drew out the little red mittens, she felt a piece of paper,
She drev- .; ^i--lt out and, opening it, she saw these words:
"Harry i I',. 164 Blank street."
How joyfully Patty read that piece of pa. Ti. .-. rT
man, she hurried across the public square, only ,
utes to let Harry look at the boys and girls sk .
much trouble in finding the house, which was one of the largest
on the err-eP, s .ttsel-. hlrik house with wide stone steps '.. .1.. up
to tht I. the steps, feeling as if a load- her
m ind, -.. . -I'
It t. -.. I .... ai by a servant, who looked -"'?-. -'f; -r l
pompous; but the moment he caught sight of Harry .1 i..
vanished, as he threw his hands over his head, shouting wildly,
"He'sfound, mum he's found, mum it's Ma r.. H .i-" r-... .i
mum; come quick, mum 1 and he set offat a .
door at the end of the hall. Before he could get to it, however, a
door opened, and in another moment Harry was in his mother's
arms. At the servant's outcry the whole family came running to the
spot. They were just going out again to search for the little
wanderer. But all wraps were laid aside now, and ,...
cheerful fire in the large parlor, Patty told her story. i
she found herself riding home in a fine carriage with Mr. and
Mrs. Harding, who could not thank Patty enough for what she had
done for them.
Two days before Thanksgiving a large carriage drove up to the
Robbins' door, from which was taken a great hamper of good things
from the Hardings. The man put a long box into Mrs. Robbins'
hands, into which sh- re'-r-' nd --'ith a smile at Patty she whisked
it into the closet, ... i i i I i ... daughter unpack the hamper.
Patty i -i.' .- .,i . of -I 1-1t --.7 rin: after another
was .1 .I' i, , i. .... .r. F.. . urkey, with a
great many vegetables; then a .1. I and a plum
pudding in abag; and last, some mince and apple pies, and oranges
and nuts and raisins.
"Mother, let's not tell the children, but have it for a surprise,"
cri: I P ., whe.. i- r .... .. pty.
S vill, "', .. I i1 I i .. 'Citwillbea great sur-
prise to them all."
So on Thanksgiving morning Patty and her mother went to work
and set the table and cooked the turkey and vegetables. When
Patty came to the table with the rest, she was as much surprised as
anybody, for at her place was the long box that had been given to
her mother.
Opening it, she saw a lovely wax doll, and on a card were the
words, For Patty Robbins, from her grateful little friend, Harry
And I think in all the city there wa': .. i i ,i hban
Patty, as with her doll in her arms she .r.i' I. I I .. the
Thanksgiving turkey.

In answer to the question which we asked of Oscar Treadwell in
the August Letter-Box, as to the definition of "scrap cat," he
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A scrap cat" is one made out of paper to
put in a scrap-book. I send my love. OSCAR TREADWLL.

DEAR ST. NICiOLAS: One question that I would like to ask is,
how, in Miss Alcott's "Spinning-wheel" story about the lunch-
party, eight .I ', .., l rone mince pie so freely as to cause
any of them ., .. i. I I. : .-. For my part, it does not trouble
me to eat a quarter or even a half a pie, and our pies are not all
crust and no fruit, either. .
I If my letter is too long, please cutout any part but that about the
pie. Yours truly, ADDA W-

A FRIEND of ST. NICHOLAS sends this picture as a timely offering
to the November Letter-Box.

- -'., '., v ,

.!.. -1 _-.- ,

P M.

r r s s


DEve Si Nc Iasa: Alt of gh I have taken -you nearly six
years, I hase never before written a letter to you. I suppose you
will think what I am goiig to rite is very strange for -1.-1 -.1
teen years to think about. It is of my strange love: r. -
machinery, swords, boats, and the sea, that I alish to tell you.
Ever since I was a little mite of a girl I have been very fond of the
sea. I like to go to the beach and watch the waves as they roll up
on the beach or break -ivf the rocks. I am never sea-sick,
and enjoy a sail out of 1.. I land better than I do among the
islands of Casco Bay.
A boat of any kind o-,- -1--- rs-- ,l;h- i .t a saucy little
. ..I seeall kinds.
S", I I i. ... ,, ..... I .... steamer that is
my especial pet, and th r i, ... ..t," which runs
between Portland and Boston. Every visitor we have I take down
to see the "Tremont."
When I was quite small, I used to go with my sister down to the
depot and watch the trains as they went back and forth. The
cnR in n- 1 to be a source of wonder and admiration to me.
I hold in my hand an old sword, it thrills me as I think
what stories it would tell if it could speak. There came into my
possession, the other day, two sords,- one was taken away frou a
dying Confederate at the battle of Fredericksburg, and the other, a
beautiful one, with a :1, i and ivory, and engravings on the
bla-1- 1-- -1s t n s, I war of' 8-2.
SI I .1. I over to Fort Preble, I have enjoyed looking at
the immense cannons mounted c ' of the I' a I I t
of cannon-balls by the side of I one. 1 i
always in apple-pie order.
There is one thing that I have always wished, and that is that I
could have lived during the civil war, and have gone into the hos-
pitals to help take care of the wounded soldiers. I would rather
read stories of the civil war than any novel. I enjoyed reading
"Recollections of a Drummer-Boy," which you published two years
ago, very much, and I wish somebody else would wnte some more
stories of the war for ST. NICHOLAS.
When I was very young I was very much afraid of the dark, but


if I carried my flag with me through the dark rooms, I felt that
nothing could hurt me, and to this day I love the dear old flag of my
country better than anything else in the world.
Now, I have written about the things which are uppermost in my
mind, and I hope you will not think they are too silly to print.
Your interested reader, LENA E. R..

PLAINFIELD, June, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your interesting and i. .1...;-, ;... ...
siderably lightened one of my cares this month. I .1.
quired to write a letter before receiving their promotion, and I have
hitherto found it a trying ordeal for us both.
The idea occurred to me this year to suggest that they all write
a letter to ST. NICHOLAS, whose monthly visits to our class-room
had been so eagerly looked for. I promised to send the most inter-
esting to you for publication, and I was delighted to see them be-
gin their work without one grumbling word. I found difficulty
in selecting from twelve, but I forward to you two that seemed to be
best suited for publication.
I hope you will find room for them, and reward forty-five anxious
boys and girls, who will watch the Letter-box, and be almost as de-
lighted to see the work of their class-mates in print as they would be
at sight of their own. Yours truly,
C. A., Public School, Plainfield, N. J.

No. I.

PLAINFIELD, N. J., June, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: At the beginning of school last year, the
scholars in each class commenced to save up money to buy a pic-
ture. The money that we would have spent for candy, we saved
and brought to the teacher, until we had enough to buy the picture.
Our picture is George Washington. It is about two feet by three.
In the corner of the room we have a cabinet, which the scholars have
bought in the same way. We have some rare specimens in it. It
has four shelves, and all of them are full of specimens.
The principal of our school takes different papers and :-:-..
for every class, for the scholars to read. Our magazine is :..
LAS, and this is the way I get it to read.
Our teacher is very much interested in flowers; we 1 ,-., ...to
her, and she presses them. We have seventeen Ji. ...r ild
flowers pressed. Yours truly, J. A. S.

No. II.

PLAINFIELD, N. J., June, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been studying about flowers, and
I think it is very interesting. I will describe how we found the dog-
tooth violet.
On the seventeenth of May, about six girls, myself included, went
into the woods, and we came upon some very pretty yellow flowers,
behind two large chestnut trees. We did not know what they were
at first, but after we took a good look at the petals and stamens, we
found that they were I. . i ; .ts.
We have read the S '. .... .- Friday, from September to
May. I think it is very interesting. Your constant reader,
S. S. Y.

HAMPTON, VIRGINIA, June 29, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have been taking you ever since Febru-
ary, and think you are just superb.
I am not able to take you, but a kind friend of mine gives you to
me every month, and I am just as happy as I can be when it comes.
I hope you will put my letter in the Letter-Box; if you do I think I
will be the happiest boy living. I hope you will never die, and that
I can take you always. Your constant reader, CHARLIE B.

WE present our sincere thanks to the young friends whose names
are given herewith, for the pleasant letters received from them:
Louise M. Gehn, (C- t-n-c L--l:- A. Stone, J. C. C., W. A. T.,
Esther M. V., Carr I! ... . i.I -., Julian A. Keeler, A. L. T.,
Mary B. Eyre, Mary P-.: Buskett, Daisy, Gertie, Charlie and
Marion, Damie pi-__- -.I., Ralph T. Hoyt, Kate M. Drew, H.
F. Mayer, Helen -l., John H. Easter, Ella L. G., Helen Perry,
P. A. i ..: T. J. Baynes, May Relay and Grace Foster, Mamie
A. S.. ...: Duden, Annie and Harry Foster, Helen M., Ellinor
D. Runcie, Celia Loeb, Laura and Grace, Lizzie Brinsmade, May
L., Daisy R., M. H. and L. A., L. V. Price, Fred G., E. V. D.,
Louise B. Cluett, Jennie M. Woodruff, Maggie Clarke, Tom C.,
Kittie L., Eugene Heald, M. Y. Demerick, Edith Houghton, Sam-
mie Noyes, Florence Derby, Rodney E. Derby, I-:.. '.. S., Phil
Carr, F. S., Marion Roberta Stuart, Mollie Orr, i . Brand,
Frederick Dabney Miller, Kiliaen Van Rensselaer, Audrey A.,
Effie A. C., Pierre Brown Mitchell, Elizabeth S., Lilian B. A.,
James A. Hayne, Polly, Anna, Lucy, Isabella and Jenny, Laura
W., Archer Dana Baker.

I -_ .. "A .. A-'.

1, F- -ssi",sI i- .--
,, "_ ;., _-. } '_,_.' "- .. '

FIVE years ago the plan of the Agassiz Association was first laid
before the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS, and since then Chapters, or
local branches, have been organized to the number of 886, and more
than 9500 members have been enrolled. The Chapters now stand-
ing on our roll are distributed as follows :
Arkansas......... I Illinois ..... ... 49 Massachusetts.... .9
California ........ 24 Indiana .......... 28 T 1-. .... 19
Colorado ........ 8 Iowa.. ......... 8 I ,.1. ..... IT
Connecticut...... 27 Kansas ...... .... a Mississippi....... 3
Dist. of Columbia. 5 Kentucky ........ 6 Missouri......... 12
Dakota..... .. 3 Louisiana ....... x Montana........
Delaware........ 4 Maine ... Neras........ 2
Florida .......... 4 Maryland ........ x3 New Hampshire.. 12

New Jersey...... 38 Rhode Island .. 9 West Virginia....
New York. ......128 South Carolina... 3 Wisconsin....... 27
New Mexico ..... Tennessee ...... 3
Nevada .......... I Texas ........... 8 Canada.......... 5
North Carolina.. 3 Utah .......... Chili ............
Ohio ............ 41 Vermont .. ..... o England .... .... 6
r -n .... .- .; ...... 5 Japan .........
... . 80 .., ..T 'y.. 2 Scotland......... 2

Total........ 743
Some of the weaker Chapters have disbanded, and others have
banded together, making one strong branch out of two or three
small ones.





S---.i..i ---,, -r.r r- te in this initial number of a new volume,
to I : .I i., .2 .r Association, and an explanation of
our purposes and methods, for the benefit of the large number of new
friends who now begin to take ST. NicHOLAS.
A very few words must suffice: The Agassiz Association is a
society for the encouragement of the personal observation of Nature.
It is freely open to all, old and young. About one-fourth of our
membership is adult. Among the branches of study pursued, are
S .-tomology, zoology, ornithology, conchology,
I. liemistry, archaeology, ethnology, and physi-
I' .i-. .' '.- is at liberty to choose whatever branch it
may prefer. The smallest number recognized as a Class, or Chapter,
isfour. Individuals can join the Association on application to the
president. Specialists have very ""nr-n,-- .....l ton'.--d their serv-
ices in the several departments. I .I ..... I.. r answer any
questions in their line, and from time to time conduct special classes
through regular courses of observation and study. All who satisfac-
torily complete these courses receive properly indorsed certificates.
A complete and detailed account of the Association may be hemn--i
by consulting back numbers of ST. NICHOLAS since October, .
especially the November issue of each year. For the convenience
of those interested, the president has prepared a small volume of
something over one hundred pages, known as the


THIS book was made in this way: For two years a record was
kept of all ;.., .' .... I.estions submitted to the president. These
questions i.- '..-.1, and the carefully written answers constitute
the book, which thus contains information on almost e.- v iml o-t i
ble point connected with the Association, and much --... ...
several departments of study pursued by us.


WITH the beginning of another year, we have a very important
though simple change to propose to all our Chapters, to which the
careful attention of every member is no .... 'i '. 1 After
mature deliberation, we are convinced -, .' .u '. ..; ers give
their cordial cooperation, the new plan will add much to the inter-
est of our society, the character of our work, and the extension of our
We refer to the manner of sending in Chapter reports. Hitherto
there has been no uniformity. Each Chapter has been expected to
send a report once in two months, but the number of Chapters is so
great that it has been found impracticable to keep exact account of the
day when each report falls due. It has also been out of the question
to send reminders to tardy secretaries or to acknowledge in every
case the receipt of punctual reports. As to publishing extracts from
all the reports received, when we consider that we can not use more
than twenty or twenty-five a month in this magazine, it becomes ev-
..., .-.r ri-.;,,-, ..,.. ; ..1, of our material has to belaid aside, to
,i . :. I ..Ithful secretaries and the unmentioned
Chapters. Now, to remedy all these troubles we propose to divide
the whole Association into hundreds, or centuries. Chapters I to
1oo inclusive will constitute the first century; Ch. tor-soo, the sec-
ond century, and so on.
Then we shall assign to ea.... ,- 1 ... rh, during the
first week of which we shall * '..'-. in that cen-
S. l, '11 these reportswillbe
i. i* .. i, t;. I . ... .... r the ST. N ICHOLAS,
r. i .-..: LI... ... .... I 1 . n is may seem of gen-
eral interest.


THAT there maybe no mistake, we will now make the following
Every Chapter from No. r to No. too will please send an annual re-
port to the president, which must reach him not later than January 7,
1886. That is, the first one hundred Chapters, . 1 ..-... will
report in thefrst month. That can not b i ... ..... I sec-
ond -.. ; 1... i month, their reports being due
befo.- i -I ..... ....... ,, sixth month, the sixth century
're r',.. ,,, rr,. ,,, r I I ...
., ve shall omit two months, July and August. as those are
vacation months, and no annual reports need be sent then. The
seventh century will report in Seftcm-ber, the ; ..., .^ to-ber,
etc.; those also being readily remembered from 'I Octo,
It is not intended that these special annual reports shall prevent
Chapters from writing and reporting at other times also. We are
always glad to hear from our friends, and shall be glad to have all
continue their bi-monthly reports as hitherto, but we will agree re-
garding the appointed annual reports, that they shall each and all
be regular. .. 1 1. 1 in ST. NICHOLAS. More than this, we
shall keep I. ... .. We have had ten boxes made and care-
fully indexed, one for each of our one hundred Chapters. Each is
labeled also with the name of the month when the reports to be kept


in it are due, so that we shall be able to tell at a glance precisely
which Chapters are punctual and which are dilatory.
To illustratestill further, suppose chapter No.
456. When is your report due ? I I. ... the fifth cen-
tury ; - . r ri .. ... . ,
for July, and will also be kept .. on file.
Th.e t:.c of this new p,... .11
I .- 'are and fullness in the preparation of reports.
2d. Greater regularity in making returns.
3d. Assurance that all reports will be mentioned in ST. NICH-
4th. Assurance that all reports will be kept.


IN order to insure the complete success of the plan, it will be ne-
cessary to observe carefully a few simple directions:
ist. Remember your month, and begin the preparation of your
report at least two weeks before it falls due.
zd. Use paper of commercial note size, and write on only one side
of the sheet.
3d. Put the number of your Chapter and your full address at the
-v.r;nr- "f svrUr rC-T"t ilnst as we print them.
S: r changee "Notes" and personal letters on
1". i '-.' ,,'i..' y... your reports and from one another. We
file them in separate cases.
5th. Inclose postage if you wish a personal answer.
6th. Make your report as complete and interesting as possible.
It is your annual opportunity to tell the Association what you are


AND now we once more extend to all, old and :-.... hearty
invitation to join 'i. '. : :e of all expense I. is no
entrance fee, and '... ." There are a very few States
still unrepresented among us. Who will be first to organize the first
Chapters there ?


289, Longfori, N. J. Our Chapter, originally organized and
known as Cambria Station, Pa. (A), has permanently removed to
this place. We have done good seaside work this year. We have
thirty-six active members .-- t:- -f1- -- .n--ts and ama-
teurs, with a considerable I : 1 i i. ; .,., i..
Our exercises embrace the answering of referred questions
usually pertaining to familiar seaside objects, the discussion of a
general subject, voluntary observations and microscopic exam-
Thi ,1 l .-..: .. a,,,.t, :,1 i. .. i. and we
have r. I .. . .
"The porpoise," "The 1- 1' .. I li i .i
conch family" are among I .1: I -
We find these seaside studies are vast, improving, and outreach-
ing. Even the common, homely things along the beach are vested
with new interest. Our youngest members are delighted to collect
odd specimens for the -nectin-
If we can give inlan I i. Chapters anyinforma,: .. ..
to our specialty, 289 is always yours to command.-
Oberholtzer, Pres.; Ellis P. -I.. ., Sec.
761, Patersou, A J. (A). .I .I. .mbers are very enthusiastic
over the work, and, moreover, their enthusiasm seems to increase with
cabinet, and about seventy specimens.
Several of the members have made excursions to the Museum of
Natural History, Seventy-seventh street an.!
York City. This building does not seem i . .... 11
and I am sure there are many living near .
in quest of just such a place. It is free to the public every day but
Monday and Tuesday, and I think even then members of the A. A.
would be admitted. We have a letter from Mr. Holder, Prof. of
Marine Zotlogy, who is connected with the institution, saying he
would be glad to know any of the members of the A. A., and they
would be admitted at any time on presenting his name. There are
many stuffed animals with their skeletons; birds, birds' eggs and
nests, insects; also a 1 ; .1 hall, in which are specimens of
rocks, minerals, shells, I mrnd the Museum very instructive,
as we could see there specimens it would be impossible for us to
obtain ourselves.-H. C. Crosby, Sec.
416, Racine, Wis. Chapter 416 is still alive, but very feeble. The
president and secretary are the only members, the same faithful two.
There being only two of us, we have no regular meetings, but have
impromptu ones very often. We have done a good deal of collecting
this year in geology, and general subjects. We are to reor-
ganize and regular r-'tnr. ,gain this fall. Four boys
have promised to join us, i .... good botanists. Botanists
will be quite an acquisition. We are to enter our collections in
the Racine Industrial Society's Exposition this year, with a chance
of $12 m premiums. JoHN L. McCALMAN.



Shells and minerals--Miss Maude Lord. 75 Lamberton St., New
Haven, Ct.
Eggs in set- -ith A1r for Cone's FiId .- ., and Cone's
Birds ofthe -Oscar Clute, Jr., iowa Cty, Iowa.
Carnelian and calc-spar, for eggs. Send list.- Chas. Baker, St.
Croix Falls, Wis.
Chinese nuts and petrified w .I 1i. -. I ..'.. I r of California,
for minerals.-Geo. S. I 1 i i,
... i for same.-Harry McMinn, 2xs
S. ii,.. ... r, ..r Richmond, Ind.
I lown through one small side-hole, and skins, for same.-
I. '.-. .- .. Parker, jr., :- '., Boulevard, Chicago, Ill.
Mounted specimens I .- Seftendecim, and branches con-
tainingd :, - r 11.. -i .s, for birds' eggs, or minerals.-Willie
Hugg, 9 ". .., Baltimore, Ald.
Fine specimens of aragonite, selenite, etc., for minerals. Corre-
spondents wanted.-E. E. Amory, 3525 Grand Boulevard, Chicago,


No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
883 Austin, Texas (A) ....... 2..Murray Toleman, cor.
W. Hickory and Colorado Sts.
884 D. 1 .. Mich. (A) ... 6..(Address not furnished!)
885 '. .. Ohio (A)..... 8..Homer G. Curies.
886 Dubuque, Iowa (B) ..... 6..James T. Carr, iix6 Locust St.


236 Factory Pt., Vt. (A) ..... 4..Jesse D. Nichols.
670 Wright's Grove, Ill. (A) .. 4.. Myran H. M. Hunt.
The address of 1 :. .. f Chapter zo8 is now
Chas :I ..-. 2227 Wabash Avenue, Chicago.

Address all communications for this department to the President,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


.I.1.11.tl ",T Iill Pi /ZI.LE.

\ -i .--

i"-i -f""-" .- 7/ ~.F_2_1 T


-' A

I. My primals and finals each name an adjective often heard and
read in November.
CRosS WORDS (of unequal length) : i. The capital of one of the
Southern States. 2. A large lake. 3. A fine city of Germany.
4. The city in which Raphael was born. 5. A group of islands in
the Mediterranean. 6. A city of Pennsylvania. 7. One of the
Ionian Islands. 8. A large arm of the North Sea. 9. A chain of
mountains in Asia. 1o. A town of France located on the Bayse.
II. MY primals name objects which beautify the landscape at this
season of the year; the finals name the more pronounced colors of
the objects.
CRoss-woDos (of equal length): i. To affirm. ? T' incstrant;
3 To watch. 4. One of the bones of the arm. 5.- .1 I '-
igency. 7. Slothful. 8. To relieve from pain. 9. A man's name.
to. A thin covering. t. Therefore. 12. To pack away.

Het liwd Nermbove secom ta slat
Bathene a live fo nair;
Het hignt widn slobw tis dolls sadie,
Ehr cafe si ullf fo napi.

Het talest fo erh cear, hes stake
Het Asutmun cavant neroth:
Hes sha tub noe storh nono ot veil,
Dan hes stum vile noale. OWEN T. LLOYD.



I.- i i

In America. 2. A river of France. 3. A river of Germany,
a tributary of the Neckar. 4. The country in which Mount Ararat
is situated. 5. The town in which the painter Gucrcino was born.
6. The name by which a large South American city is often called.
7. In America. "ALCIIADES."
REMOVE one word from another, and leave a complete word. Ex-
ample: Take part of a church from breathed, and leave a color.
Answer, re-spire-d.
I. Take to mistake from a light boat used on rivers, and leave for
what reason. 2. Take a number from onmens, and leave havens.
3. Take a large cask from to make musical, and leave consumed.
4. Take a conjunction from stigmatized, and leave fostered.
5. Take to be sick from lamenting, and leave the side of an army.
6. Take the coarse part of hemp or flax from packing away closely,
and leave to chant. 7. Take a _:.1' name from an instrument of
warfare, and leave to study. i ake a domestic animal from
frowned, and leave what every boy wants in winter. 9. Take astern
from floated, and leave to marry. to. Take a pronoun from bruised,
and leave insane. Take a Chinese from purloining, and
leave to cast or throw. 12. Take a .... 1 winged animal from
blunted, and leave a pike. 13. Til- r--f -rm -r.. -?.crly, and
leave poisonous serpents. 14. I ...... .. ... 1 i-. i.1 gods,
and leave small inclosures. 15. Take to inquire from exposed to
..: .1 I. ... I leave part of a river.
I I ....- I words are all of the same length, and their central
letters, when read downward, will name that which Thanksgiving
brings with it. GILBERT FOREST.



x185.] .THE RID

IN witless, but not in mad;
In naughty, but not in bad;
In sandal, but not in shoe;
In crimson, but not in blue;
In barking, but not in howl;
In nestling, but not in fowl;
In shouting, but not in cheer;
In lucid, but not in clear;
In moving, but not in pause;
In motive, but not in cause;
In fennel, but not in bush;
In urging, but not in push.
Con this well, and then remember
Two pleasant times in each November.
The letters contained in the above sentence, when properly trans-
posed into words of five letters, will form the answer to the following
1. To entangle. 2. Pertaining to ships. 3. Toshun. 4. To exalt.
5. Senior. F. L. F.
8 1 2

7 e 9 s 3

6 5 4
From i to 9, a Swiss coin made of copper; from 2 to 9, certain
days in March; from 3 to 9, water serpents; from 4 to 9, mis-
chievous sprites; from 5 to 9, meadows; from 6 to 9, belonging to
the goddess of revenge; from 7 to 9, certain kinds of drink; from
8 to 9, blunders.
Outer square (from i to 8), to pronounce with a hissing sound.
Middle square (dots), an instrument attached to the wheel of a car-
riage, to measure distance in traveling. Inner square (stars), the
longest year. L. LOS REGNI."


)LE-BOX. 79

--c t, .. 7' 2l. -'-'


-" ".! -. I

THE answer to the rebus inclosed in the circle is one of Poor
Richard's maxims.
I AM compos 1 .;., ;1 .....1 .tm a quotation
from Benjamin .. .. ... the follow-
ing quotation from Seneca:
"Non convalescit plant, qum swpe transfertur."
My 30-10-29 is a plaything. My 11-38-16-1 are part of a table.
My 35-26-r5-3 "s n 11t. My 21-2-36-7- -- ; something which
accompanies a .1 tr-aed- My -- - is a stair. My
9-13-23 is a large cask I 4-28-22-27-14-5 is a helmet. My
37-6-19-24-17-31-34-12 is a small. ,


BuIrED GULFS AND BAYS. i. Bonavista. 2. Fundy. 3. Boothia. EASY TRANSPOSITIONS. I. Spare, pares, pears, spear, parse,
4. Tampa. 5. Paria. 6. Panama. 7. Naples. 8. Onega. 9. Venice, reaps. II. Mites, smite, items, emits, Times.
to. Donegal. r. Bengal. 12. Obe. HouR-GLASS. Across: i. Directorial. 2. Improvise. 3. Salt-
HEXAGONS. Across I. C. 2. Sap 3. Vapor 4.Axile. ant. 4. Twist. 3. Ope. 6. R. 7. Pet. 8. Assai. 9. Pimento.
5. Noted. 6. Nod. 7. L. II. I H. 2. Tag. 3. Bulls. 4. Idiot. to. Extension, as. Recontinues. Centrals, Totipresent; from
5. Nobby. 6. Rue. 7. T. to 2, Distortions; from 3 to 4, letter-paper.
DIAMOND, P. 2 Hog. 3. Caird. 4. Hansard. 5. Poison- WORD-SQUARES . Remast. 2. Later. 3. Masora. 4. Atoned.
oak. 6. Grandly. 7. Droll. 8. Day. 9. K. 5. Serene. 6. Trades. II Darter. 2. Averse. 3. Resets.
HALF-SQUARr T. Carpet. 2. Ameer. 3. Rent. 4. Pet. 5. (H)er. 4. Trevat. 5. Estate. 6. Restem.
IL.LUTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Latin quotation : He who Hickory, dickory, dock,-
k--- simidly courts a refusal." Quotation from Herrick (" No Bash- The mouse ran up the clock;
'.. in Pl.--4 n", The clock struck one,
I ,ine ends, lay bashfulness aside; The mouse ran down,
' to ask doth teach to be denied." Hickory, dickory, dock.

THE names of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO.. 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS To PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the OCTOBER number, from CEdipus,"
13-Bella and Cora Wehl, Frankfort, Germany, n.
TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN TE SEPTEMBER NUMBiER were received, before SEPTEMBER 20, from "B. L. Z. Bub"-Maggie
and I...rill-San Anselmo Valley-" Betsey Trotwood "-Hugh and Cis-Fanny R. Jackson-Francis W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before SEPTEMrBER sto, from Ned L. Mitchell, i -" Multum in
Parvo," 2- Marguerite and Clifford, L. M. D., L. Witte. 2-Effie K, Talboys, 7-Avis and Grace Stanton Davenport,
4 PaulReese, 7 -" ChF .--h-." JeannieM I '. 7- L. Caroline H --' .- Mary Adelaide Sloan, 5 -Alice S. Allen, 3-
"The Carters," io-- ..... I 1, 6-Gertrude H., I Ka-i- Tl .. I .... o- r and Nellie, 9-J. H. S., 2-
Harry V. R. Livingston, 4--" Whiskers," Miss A. B., r--Wes -" Pepper and .. 6-F. D., 6-Emma St. C.
Whitney, 6-Louise Lesene, --Oscar and Charlie, x-" Family ': 1 .1 --Emma W., r -N. E. T.. 2-No Name, e, Re. 5--Har-
rison Allen, Jr., --H. E. H., e l-- d Mabel, 6-Fred. A. Hamilton, 3-Meg and Jo, Edith L. Yotng, 3--Lilie and Ida
Gibson, 7-Appleton, H., 8-i i .. at Gmiinden, 8-George Habenicht, I-Louise Joynes, 3-Judith, 8--Thomns W. Kim-
ball, 4-- Ednah Golding, 3--Laura I-olhs C1.t. I.1 .-V. C. Slover, 9--Mad and Katie Bradley, 6-Katie R., 4-
Willie Tompkins, i-Joseph J. Collins, 4--' I . P Ltuckerman, 7-Addison K. Smith, 4-"Ajax," 3-Charlie Wilson, 4-
Willard K. Purdy, 4- Eselle Whiting, 7 Mary S. E., -" Sheppard Family," 9- Gregory R. Shorey, 2 -Alice K. Burton, 6.