<%BANNER%>
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 The little Christmas-tree
 Little Lord Fauntleroy
 The snow-storm - The magic clocks...
 Santa Claus on a lake
 How fishes climb hill
 My echo
 School-life at Rugby
 A morning at Rugby during...
 Putting this and that together
 Sky-sailing
 One little rhyme in a world of...
 Benevolent boy! - Christmas before...
 The considerate crocodile
 A romance
 The rajah's paper-cutter
 Mrs. Kriss Kringle - Our holiday...
 Among the law-makers
 From Bach to Wagner
 Sixteen and six
 The smallest dog in the world
 The adventure of a mouse
 Through the register
 Five little boys
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 For very little folk
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association: Fifty-sixth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


BLDN NEH CCLC ICDL UFSPEC



xml version 1.0 encoding UTF-8 standalone no
fcla fda yes
dl
!-- St. Nicholas. ( Serial ) --
METS:mets OBJID UF00065513_00165
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
xsi:schemaLocation
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 2009-07-28T08:59:36Z ID LASTMODDATE 2007-05-04T16:52:59Z RECORDSTATUS NEW
METS:agent ROLE CREATOR TYPE ORGANIZATION
METS:name UF
OTHERTYPE SOFTWARE OTHER
Go UFDC FDA Preparation Tool
INDIVIDUAL
UFAD\mariner1
METS:dmdSec DMD1
METS:mdWrap MDTYPE MODS MIMETYPE textxml LABEL Metadata Object Description Schema
METS:xmlData
mods:mods
mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
mods:language
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:location
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:role
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
"A monthly magazine for boys and girls."
Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:originInfo
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:place
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued December 1885
mods:recordInfo
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00165
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:physicalDescription
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
series
mods:titleInfo
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:part
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 13
mods:number 13
Enum2
No. 2
2
mods:subject
mods:topic Children's literature
Periodicals.
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas.
alternative
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
DMD2
OTHERMDTYPE UFDC University of Florida Digital Collections
ufdc:procParam
ufdc:Collection.Primary JUV
ufdc:SubCollection NICK
ufdc:MainThumbnail 00001thm.jpg
ufdc:bibDesc
ufdc:BibID UF00065513
ufdc:VID 00165
ufdc:Publisher
ufdc:Name Scribner,
ufdc:Source
ufdc:statement UF University of Florida
ufdc:Type Serial
ufdc:serial
ufdc:SerialHierarchy level 1 order 13 Vol. 13
2 No. 2
METS:amdSec
METS:digiprovMD AMD_DAITTS
DAITTS
daitss:daitss
daitss:AGREEMENT_INFO ACCOUNT PROJECT
METS:fileSec
METS:fileGrp
METS:file GROUPID G1 J1 imagejpeg CHECKSUM cb6a9b5451c8fff851cbf276cc61c893 CHECKSUMTYPE MD5 SIZE 502513
METS:FLocat LOCTYPE OTHERLOCTYPE SYSTEM xlink:href 00001.jpg
G2 J2 8986605cae917f46036b55bb35833b95 133223
00002.jpg
G3 J3 0a88f59185587699e3e293b69052c916 385037
00003.jpg
G4 J4 6366b786d72759f2baf075d2be1f076f 187830
00004.jpg
G5 J5 59af69c83847933f0ab95a082ed476de 322101
00005.jpg
G6 J6 2812ea8fa9862d399e2cfd4aa62b4e75 323904
00006.jpg
G7 J7 04876e467ca4134d3d780c9896a55fb8 375806
00007.jpg
G8 J8 bdcf126877926062249c503e9dc019d7 320512
00008.jpg
G9 J9 bc0744963025a022d3d10578b1ec5e4c 361185
00009.jpg
G10 J10 6d17dbd399f1fa0b76e3226ba2c2a358 341884
00010.jpg
G11 J11 d4c6121d821b613476b6d488d452b580 348084
00011.jpg
G12 J12 f5c8ba029e3d7ad01e7f5e283d3c3595 324786
00012.jpg
G13 J13 d319a3e9fba56f0481dab3b4d0bda0a8 367262
00013.jpg
G14 J14 eb3c1b056d1aa1bb7aa6fb6dff1d76c5 335485
00014.jpg
G15 J15 1dca0a477f56d2ad67a256a5c447e93d 261344
00015.jpg
G16 J16 0272e3337432baf3bbb248c1dcfd76a9 299819
00016.jpg
G17 J17 e63a6f13997a21e6c91bcf8ded5cbf8b 339773
00017.jpg
G18 J18 189522e8ec920249daf8970896adee89 298661
00018.jpg
G19 J19 788d87df4913307400dbb55b0a1ca9d8 294143
00019.jpg
G20 J20 2acd19bb312333fab2d928a787733652 342724
00020.jpg
G21 J21 b9ba33f3c0bce8e71a237bc4d3b4f68c 382999
00021.jpg
G22 J22 4c5d97ca2c4b5d39e9f675a89143f908 334508
00022.jpg
G23 J23 550aa6b83ab4d0da15b9b27f2e305f1f 348423
00023.jpg
G24 J24 86d90f2204551e700d59eeec1d27bfb1 310837
00024.jpg
G25 J25 e3a63c10958f0efc7ac3c882d4183f4a 352761
00025.jpg
G26 J26 09b1dc8cebbd2dd44e99a2d4c2b81695 328749
00026.jpg
G27 J27 3591e0ea938d25205bc620661a74aad6 311357
00027.jpg
G28 J28 c3d2a6d810766cfcd59de51abed20f4b 319793
00028.jpg
G29 J29 70ec6c1d7aaeeea7ab53c63c1ba3d17e 372151
00029.jpg
G30 J30 14f02feb20ae4b5d2744f79a16622104 286218
00030.jpg
G31 J31 3017e7b8b2b39b459ab09b42da8c509d 309995
00031.jpg
G32 J32 377b6de38533eb03f0780ff68f5cc437 320511
00032.jpg
G33 J33 2f097a6733c1d6139a52aca34c5a498b 352764
00033.jpg
G34 J34 5e924d707286f4cce92b62b316d2a27c 333699
00034.jpg
G35 J35 f438d88f80ce00106892adf72595c599 359406
00035.jpg
G36 J36 008d0b008eaec008e479fa4975a9628d 353292
00036.jpg
G37 J37 7fb493be3bb11ae3afe9a0e34f3c604d 345998
00037.jpg
G38 J38 d68b2e77a3bc7144776ac7e32b12e76f 354974
00038.jpg
G39 J39 acd170f7f3f8b01b1e3a839585401fb6 320491
00039.jpg
G40 J40 685465cc7cec792a1b96b7af1f93dc33 335113
00040.jpg
G41 J41 64f491f26cbe4d2264af8e9ea490f05c 331744
00041.jpg
G42 J42 12a2f92b0976e8608b414d91800d2465 274598
00042.jpg
G43 J43 1258815d9466a026d3dceb6c72a739b5 270390
00043.jpg
G44 J44 67a465fe9bbf583b2d2f9dca8cee46fe 301621
00044.jpg
G45 J45 f307b4d9bd5be71b8dde9494161f0004 239785
00045.jpg
G46 J46 ba0efa257208ab14cd7893e69fb9b597 159788
00046.jpg
G47 J47 5e61d0298109ff4a9e8168bfc23cb6fc 256355
00047.jpg
G48 J48 fce9caae5f06a2fefdd15038bbb471a5 343277
00048.jpg
G49 J49 ef0b312da488a980eb14e659e7c440fb 338832
00049.jpg
G50 J50 08fad0503935b1d1aa5e98a204e65a4e 312446
00050.jpg
G51 J51 36dcd1017af43d83f053bdb0bbd2812b 373872
00051.jpg
G52 J52 cf9f3d791701d4ff0db27501c699cdfe 268645
00052.jpg
G53 J53 a062136da718ceda5938fd8fdf91dd4e 370665
00053.jpg
G54 J54 199d984e78c0e43c48ed99d8a8df162c 332764
00054.jpg
G55 J55 3fdcb3121105ac9d24b1189344871d74 341032
00055.jpg
G56 J56 89083df93cc8c655e245d19de26e7e7f 310948
00056.jpg
G57 J57 eb4942554deba83f2451e2ab045c0b85 339034
00057.jpg
G58 J58 1a2859d830afb50e8d14f7bdbd02f6a7 227524
00058.jpg
G59 J59 62e164b93a4ce4c3fae3f8486ee2751b 331652
00059.jpg
G60 J60 62889a1face1f4350a3eb9e805fa8f9f 233522
00060.jpg
G61 J61 69e2a023043196977532cbe55a92bc6d 231737
00061.jpg
G62 J62 5cdee33889874d210b4c81c6ce42f129 325319
00062.jpg
G63 J63 92c9ac817ee054c1323240a2c983d3b9 254641
00063.jpg
G64 J64 b6b08b99ecf09c1b4b68de266bc59d00 322051
00064.jpg
G65 J65 1a109bc28f6ab2a98d432d48072d4480 321310
00065.jpg
G66 J66 472c2f79ae4e4c9864d65903db1f1df9 327520
00066.jpg
G67 J67 5bbcaf91cc7367486e8e6fdc15c7417f 350308
00067.jpg
G68 J68 5900a204b0397ec66bcc76b20e0c249a 234934
00068.jpg
G69 J69 0783d4155f6d05e6d0cca6af0677b7e6 291451
00069.jpg
G70 J70 9c5b53ef4349479d711067b85952d4fa 274910
00070.jpg
G71 J71 cd1e4c06bcf9cc388880cd049c418bfc 346060
00071.jpg
G72 J72 53566f8b76a46f489de2c829e654454d 233668
00072.jpg
G73 J73 b008f7595146e24c1edc17fe4c0e42ff 363970
00073.jpg
G74 J74 e1624a7b3fc84146e6ff638a015536d4 288517
00074.jpg
G75 J75 e46740d6e136c9d2ed56d940a27c5085 284087
00075.jpg
G76 J76 5408d2ab0d2e51fd5de21c09b5324fcc 247053
00076.jpg
G77 J77 6e0f6dde43fe4ec34a2092e0b871047e 314274
00077.jpg
G78 J78 baf8367371d01b8d315838c8ec9c2a7d 313610
00078.jpg
G79 J79 bcbf6033e7560733ad11fa0f6dfa6182 322971
00079.jpg
G80 J80 c7fe9718f67d3daf3f25fe7672f0280c 305466
00080.jpg
G81 J81 c0d9dee4046b63f5872a40437c6ec06e 297497
00081.jpg
G82 J82 1bd8c5f6eba70d4029e61ff8049840c9 266191
00082.jpg
G83 J83 38ee1a518bd167a8e1ada7a7dfc30183 273121
00083.jpg
G85 J85 c4eb90c8af4ccd84449f8f260e093dcf 188171
00085.jpg
G86 J86 d76db6c0b354a061b1529d1571f8dfa7 333696
00086.jpg
G87 J87 d2e46e2005cc849d757b4fc7fe35bc8d 151550
00087.jpg
E1 imagejp2 fbbb27f1273575ff8ac5e67511ba0648 761427
00001.jp2
E2 c8879866387df00aa1e8070c74e877a0 788955
00002.jp2
E3 b731c4eb7be49733e87f3f0fb5a4e8d9 649989
00003.jp2
E4 347a9c7d12b9b1fc78338df79a98d06f 642207
00004.jp2
E5 58675d152105a9db88f52060b91cb5be 650090
00005.jp2
E6 7d722558ea87693e032ca7ecc22ea0d9 650446
00006.jp2
E7 29e4761518a44bf9f4478a248ac4cfcf 650096
00007.jp2
E8 4901a0afea1c1194d3217774f951ea7c 650402
00008.jp2
E9 f594a0d4ed26ce2c23674cc00655b8e3 650029
00009.jp2
E10 b981cb5730e9ff99f04d5f63154d0078 650398
00010.jp2
E11 b3cf607693adf71cf954374e2a73d532 650387
00011.jp2
E12 b6acbeb88f9374bf2d3d4e347f9760c5 650448
00012.jp2
E13 a4c36e8a0ebd2db7051942a63d300320 650042
00013.jp2
E14 64feac2f38d078d08ca374513c6dcedd 650451
00014.jp2
E15 5a63ac2180d9f674c21555f2df1ce401 650430
00015.jp2
E16 d4d89b32c921988933338b2d98eb3de0 650417
00016.jp2
E17 891a1df337227ce0dafb14ed1bc536b9 650097
00017.jp2
E18 6cb2ff185387248815d16e1fe3e8401c 644788
00018.jp2
E19 38bf25080d73c81137251de0486765a7 650078
00019.jp2
E20 cf8f86528c4915923e7daa1219238611 650424
00020.jp2
E21 c523c7ff314feaa92107349cd8c2ab00 650104
00021.jp2
E22 f7f33df5bad52212a865a1088dd34743 650429
00022.jp2
E23 2caa21895e920afff28b4dd679b87d4d 650103
00023.jp2
E24 6313393236700356fa37ffa1b41537bb 650393
00024.jp2
E25 e64f6d67ab499bce19cbbe840680078e 650055
00025.jp2
E26 80840f586bed14ae296eb043d0dce9e6 650416
00026.jp2
E27 f4fcc2188ca056f9e76c556681035a8b 650413
00027.jp2
E28 f9fae4bf07969f3d7259df0b0606808f 650444
00028.jp2
E29 925469bfe6bdd5be4b7392f88177246f 650215
00029.jp2
E30 5f3899b17bf4950567b9aca5f3ebcf4b
00030.jp2
E31 eb6612c8b5ec699c2e5a02d9b887a8cd 650356
00031.jp2
E32 d8873eb3a956dd46a51a61445c402b04 650354
00032.jp2
E33 fd148617f5613d1a6222c4e89f3e79d1 650341
00033.jp2
E34 d82325ebaef01cca1f21ef390c454b51 650450
00034.jp2
E35 cba449e05df9df5580799f6f4a80bad1 650447
00035.jp2
E36 c1afe251d1e57c733be233dfedf78bf8 649922
00036.jp2
E37 c753273b601f9228346033cbcd82333c 650353
00037.jp2
E38 4cfa13b4935f0fd3aa4811a7f5468d7d 650049
00038.jp2
E39 85f4d0d3e99b9f5f88a07a15925811d9 650421
00039.jp2
E40 61bf2c620486e11cd468eaf52477d209 650081
00040.jp2
E41 bf261ef035e02242dbe56ec91fa03868
00041.jp2
E42 a8189551c334321e3601b2b5890293e5 650434
00042.jp2
E43 95181cd490a6e69d0915c768a64e922b 650357
00043.jp2
E44 110a60da8a83e4b25dbc8e2684c9ed18 650443
00044.jp2
E45 eb3fd0cd4b981bb5d4e8fedcb29c199b 650404
00045.jp2
E46 5c042ef232806dd66929c00a214f2870 650436
00046.jp2
E47 e858878bf51faf1dda437a45ba3f5a05 650101
00047.jp2
E48 5ca145b0d4a6bbfdabde01e24a11d332 650433
00048.jp2
E49 3e1f9b518d7116f18c396cb901852b83
00049.jp2
E50 cda736c681545f989ffc36f44e8d7ffd
00050.jp2
E51 83748e88e882224b3924e2b4147aa111 650449
00051.jp2
E52 3ad9a67b850534e6b84c88c71bc2d5a2 650069
00052.jp2
E53 a15cc2aa75a20c30a731b16a492b6f26 650328
00053.jp2
E54 e8fc5db2c935a704f7da8ea4524ecea8 650074
00054.jp2
E55 85cf45bbb348fd3d716281243d2ec236 650401
00055.jp2
E56 5cb989db3d29b26906b74f0a7408cc13 649875
00056.jp2
E57 f49ee806f18586ffd3ae056e1c8c45fa 650418
00057.jp2
E58 2b8720628a51dd37ede1b4f89cdec215
00058.jp2
E59 75d5d9bc099c8dbcde591d16f1ea796e
00059.jp2
E60 e929c9b0130f38deec88beb555aa457f
00060.jp2
E61 ba13dbdb3b1b34369fce92b6185a38a8 650414
00061.jp2
E62 3d2ad86478dff19d69f7ffaa4a90c06f
00062.jp2
E63 d0998b4a39df6a49b9cf8f0d858075c8 650440
00063.jp2
E64 fc62804550bf3e817cbbff106e2abd0f
00064.jp2
E65 25c1526fcc4a3991502574b9d685bc8e 650062
00065.jp2
E66 6e20009073c46feca3428e4b56c708c2 650364
00066.jp2
E67 5da514db4ada78de12e01c2b91629d74
00067.jp2
E68 a6b70adfaa5bf85bc66d6d713627f355 650420
00068.jp2
E69 8bb26e2b423d0bc8f1f0f0da4863c6f4 650407
00069.jp2
E70 c6f0b5c2f3d3ccdcdcc749d37e03d88e
00070.jp2
E71 8c7284d866f03c815c84b1265dc3bed8 650386
00071.jp2
E72 48540fd14f500f982cc0eb217ca1b4ec 650432
00072.jp2
E73 29d956791cfb85dee252d3fa5ebcd0f3 650105
00073.jp2
E74 c0baeaf28c280e4691a768f16bdba93c 650431
00074.jp2
E75 4cde8e4528cb23d087699350e8b55027 650339
00075.jp2
E76 1a5af9be82ab8c9c1e08479ccd8574e3
00076.jp2
E77 2bf6b742d17df8e207d1cb920f084b42 650336
00077.jp2
E78 cf2933425f89051dc8cd3204c083c7de 650435
00078.jp2
E79 b35ec740411ab776588dd07d7b019572 650419
00079.jp2
E80 57a3a1ce8e9464ea84d428285be9fa91 650056
00080.jp2
E81 448e2e9394cf21ee77858ef1cc8dfc62
00081.jp2
E82 8b309f60bde4e9d89bfaed1d860c6e48 649998
00082.jp2
E83 5d763f11173d170af90a51309684dcfe 650394
00083.jp2
E85 3724fc2cb5f8842c78697d05bfc1b4d5 767405
00085.jp2
E86 a82877e48fc7c045edd58b2fdfea6bf9 780601
00086.jp2
E87 c2fa6acf55679688a154eb9c13a3f129 163530
00087.jp2
F1 imagetiff 6.0 fb9b9da8b8d5500e3d9844e7111e938b 18296132
00001.tif
F2 0c309f0cf0863dfe067e5c5840051424 18953108
00002.tif
F3 47e0193ded28029375fc00d460bc6676 5223308
00003.tif
F4 4aa616759b495ecdc1a2ad7d3858176b 5158060
00004.tif
F5 c0706c0dc155d585984c7616fbc44a6e 5223144
00005.tif
F6 e48ccb6a7cb07760f460223bd0507875 5226096
00006.tif
F7 1a1aca58aa29bbc78b7cca919ca0658d 5223828
00007.tif
F8 7f4029786bb037a7704641e07e089aec 5226076
00008.tif
F9 b40e2830ca641165d4cbeeb2c96c2e12 5223340
00009.tif
F10 a73c078d2174ba6f890c2687c17ae37d 5226240
00010.tif
F11 aabf0e70a7c2ece100f6586f7ccfebd5 5226384
00011.tif
F12 c4806d2776af6fd2c71e51af3b1c33b3 5226168
00012.tif
F13 bbc12a3a407b49a45b45991af9b14101 5223488
00013.tif
F14 b43dab0233b83e7a9f24009b4260cce0 5226080
00014.tif
F15 ab61e5fd6519e606d9b1a34ab755476c 5224976
00015.tif
F16 5024d7e9c88eff8679ef7a28dd3861f0 5225656
00016.tif
F17 3e1cd9d739e9874046d1c971ecd1c501 5223560
00017.tif
F18 d308cc0f2f9707aa5485ea44dc9e36c7 5180584
00018.tif
F19 d8911e74e75a69ea6043c1c774565340 5222304
00019.tif
F20 e1bacd1ab18184fd2fd943d55848fcb2 5226500
00020.tif
F21 9f6d2706870760a0476a4a55b31f38bf 5224172
00021.tif
F22 7764c751ab6ea05f7fc0ec127f13921a 5226504
00022.tif
F23 2b3a939cb4553ff1f96352db14bef664 5224064
00023.tif
F24 2027b91d7d88eec69a8c8bf8d7c9079e 5225672
00024.tif
F25 1c7b3e367abd57a6be54c14e9ab82621 5224032
00025.tif
F26 74732a504b7e758739254f0e5e71657f 5226220
00026.tif
F27 b03196958da42bb3742105cdbd2ba030 5225820
00027.tif
F28 7703552939d85725c0af7c26b0e86176 5225904
00028.tif
F29 ae36e28b404db11dbbdb66912df59e69 5226816
00029.tif
F30 43640925db09d9130477dd4431fa2f12 5226060
00030.tif
F31 09ed673cea10bf74685fa0bf3f06d52c 5226760
00031.tif
F32 98955e387039b578e570bb250c1dc9a9 5226880
00032.tif
F33 4c0b7a2ef9a925358627c7fdab3805fa 5226648
00033.tif
F34 491c8ccb151ae8a1021149b683dd7951 5226284
00034.tif
F35 8d87e839c1b573e698b3f04eea18c6f4 5226864
00035.tif
F36 1774dc961334a3e43296ae7cc8d6d4a8 5224280
00036.tif
F37 7df2e7278f81fa1a91d535b1cffb4a2f 5226216
00037.tif
F38 265564f26927e49468f4f021f7344a20 5224260
00038.tif
F39 566673f56e72c2f844f63266079163cc 5226264
00039.tif
F40 7928cca9e6d056eca5ea1f80578bed84 5223328
00040.tif
F41 42dc22e79214662395db81c05e750c3a 5226804
00041.tif
F42 33b7c543cd8c343ffb93d7dcd08df5c8 5225964
00042.tif
F43 0654e3cf9b820e6ddd92ed35a99c51a2 5223792
00043.tif
F44 8b95a55e2c68055f27433569f564f350 5225992
00044.tif
F45 4a97b0e4f3f45d62ba01f7eb38a78a08 5224296
00045.tif
F46 8427c538256e7194ba5dac84d2e95231 5223464
00046.tif
F47 83741e0c356a0d448fa3648b3c790a3a 5223172
00047.tif
F48 e5e77c69febb39de4c18d5e6ac680e28 5226444
00048.tif
F49 4daf79b302b9d9870246b8c01775265c 5226644
00049.tif
F50 5eb6b50d88dbd3fb7d267c0b49893067 5226512
00050.tif
F51 f04c09e7422e334fb6a1aefd72a8157a 5226704
00051.tif
F52 00e16aa4995c1070e181902a6b7f2848 5223000
00052.tif
F53 67e2834bb6ecf7d7dced9cff2d2fca3e 5226888
00053.tif
F54 78ac61b4ac388d6d611a067a724a52f0 5223576
00054.tif
F55 e09a9646549079cd491e275b3c96d8d2 5226532
00055.tif
F56 90202160d93509de88481126ae8b16b6 5223268
00056.tif
F57 70baebed490c89fbcca697d57ff1cd7d 5227060
00057.tif
F58 9e112868c9a3de3c0f0d830055cb4b8c 5225712
00058.tif
F59 f2c3507a13a4ba6713e0a966adc3379f
00059.tif
F60 4de8553e531d00f04353b721b544bfb2 5224356
00060.tif
F61 ee256d04b24a1e8dcc93f572b65900a9 5224944
00061.tif
F62 a067aecc66fe1395ef65f8a8c6a5915d
00062.tif
F63 5f4154f234155614c393f79ea944abc8 5224920
00063.tif
F64 dfdddf6068443bfb91a2183b6807dee0 5225788
00064.tif
F65 e09e94ca8ff5b65b0efed47420e730e4 5223840
00065.tif
F66 3d5a010f14d48ac96bb0a4c93cdc120a 5226108
00066.tif
F67 2963ab1a457293be7d6472cda1bc4ba2 5223248
00067.tif
F68 132fb16a181f68ea8bd32a8f63c3f7eb 5225384
00068.tif
F69 9aa058827937af5b9295aea336f3a937 5225836
00069.tif
F70 9ff0c5b43a33d88ea142149a61cadde9 5226156
00070.tif
F71 a18a822a864bdc3faf7bcc8da8f302c1 5226844
00071.tif
F72 ddec79ed1251b8b2b9f6ceb6d98c399d 5225036
00072.tif
F73 0be703af89cfa7bed19775861d52d7bf 5224020
00073.tif
F74 9b45305be1ed935e55f4f65dbed7544a 5224628
00074.tif
F75 a6d74a6d38ea85b226373449446d8935 5226048
00075.tif
F76 a1ef2f18dfe97aa01ca2ba81b6d799c6 5225284
00076.tif
F77 a2d5a4be135a59e466f6756421a8149d 5225472
00077.tif
F78 9cf79f080f72efe85ba4072fd286dbe3 5225740
00078.tif
F79 8bfb2874f69e82deadaf84ba58b52242 5226176
00079.tif
F80 e047e167b4993c8544ff9561ff4a4d15 5223196
00080.tif
F81 20ea511ce294bdc2a58215075eb2a8fb 5226292
00081.tif
F82 586013689a8b2033913d01c7494d4028 5222860
00082.tif
F83 ede8c9fffcaec20c8da465d8fdeccd81 5225940
00083.tif
F85 aacff368b73e74aa91f43ee15df41cba 18436280
00085.tif
F86 29e560cf48a6f7616eb63410da3b1bd7 18753528
00086.tif
F87 f01d5b4a025a59aacc6f39a0831dd500 3942132
00087.tif
T1 textplain 971cbd34f161112f9982d0a7a7b71257 517
00001.txt
T3 c8a771e117656b689c430cb05ed6faf7 473
00003.txt
T4 e7296a747df40e67379e092a10753a13 2772
00004.txt
T5 9b2116dda6a39127af340038754f4454 4176
00005.txt
T6 179cd9a004afb4e865dc4aaaf6250952 5026
00006.txt
T7 18d0a16322e5517a5bad1c4611110bc8 5580
00007.txt
T8 97a43f0d716f0479ab98f8a879773257 3673
00008.txt
T9 594e8e268ec44de881738bf8bccc55a4 5533
00009.txt
T10 8643835eab5435dd22c4cc01a79dd846 5322
00010.txt
T11 097a57bfe50a625cdbd444c664e3bd8f 5247
00011.txt
T12 fcfc8904a4bb892ef6f7907e68a66421 2056
00012.txt
T13 d74ca57fc23e7d7cbefcbf4ea8cc636a 5428
00013.txt
T14 6bebe549fa5efd0f986ccd8b989dd5b3 5350
00014.txt
T15 bb3c782a9cedb01fa6e22fc79bc07dee 3545
00015.txt
T16 86c3446bacbe08ff82c80c5e3ef66e01 1795
00016.txt
T17 61dfa16128d1d217c43cc5494d9ad85e 5023
00017.txt
T18 c7f887e20fdbab0fb713e9756117334a 4689
00018.txt
T19 68537df51737aa9416a11a8f60af3f82 1327
00019.txt
T20 c2922df44a68c5446ec2e406de667dcd 5318
00020.txt
T21 3fe31381347a059ab38f88c13836a366 5611
00021.txt
T22 9cd871fd7ffb2db762824a1cdc7ea2d1 5175
00022.txt
T23 82a16fafd6c9012d8dde201599ff6937 5229
00023.txt
T24 3f3afcbcc2512b50fb07320eab69a67e 2722
00024.txt
T25 3a4f50921a2ed0d4e1078a0d67b07f76 5332
00025.txt
T26 5380de8d73e1f270b603d84d4362a25b 3482
00026.txt
T27 39a0e3071e68980455bd3c88afda110d 4439
00027.txt
T28 49dd4988e9c022a9c0a8bb5e9b8139c8 2422
00028.txt
T29 5f50d12c5d4c3544bdb32e9e3ca1106d 3933
00029.txt
T30 4d0b812fc850250cd66baeea181cefee 752
00030.txt
T31 dc7ec3d2d9f2e8980e7281f8b096aed3 1461
00031.txt
T32 0da57e100b23f4afd874d0db28b7a00d 905
00032.txt
T33 a42869813f78de6e388e557a278e3b41 2173
00033.txt
T34 bbd0c5f8405e1b6d47cd174ab48d485f 4778
00034.txt
T35 354f6bcf9b56617ab9cdfaf1c03fb279 3749
00035.txt
T36 6f04ef30390264eee49609864eb119d3 3048
00036.txt
T37 c22ed3cce038c83b8bbcde7207410068 2244
00037.txt
T38 97548163e8021298359d32f9840322cb 2987
00038.txt
T39 00c9508b6ca852033fe53a0193a55699 3743
00039.txt
T40 25dc2e4734e01a1ba623bf9dd102e53a 2957
00040.txt
T41 9b0c0deb20af040e8983b18948eb283a 4802
00041.txt
T42 295da8d03bb3fc8bda7e7dd7f86ffc69 2445
00042.txt
T43 80544fd139b319f03dc9018946f0b185 364
00043.txt
T44 cbe7fa1ec1fa2a7ab2a1879b8ce3edbe 4550
00044.txt
T45 b8c534cbd481e66176b2213b387e92da 2959
00045.txt
T46 1d5ba508f0ac875fce69f83915d9a7c7 719
00046.txt
T47 fc6df6fdfb2edf98b52d67ab48799254 2036
00047.txt
T48 e04e392c88d7b70842de57c0657c9f64 5297
00048.txt
T49 9e12e0c962627befab4b5531005fbabf 5618
00049.txt
T50 25425566f34a87233f3e851fc3830e35 3074
00050.txt
T51 c90527afc9f6d68e9a925a875d82808a 5548
00051.txt
T52 a728bf824f16c2fae08d429b519c332e 3190
00052.txt
T53 df41a176e90097780f378a8d63376caa 5610
00053.txt
T54 87a30f48aa24cd1658463cfb9d002771 5287
00054.txt
T55 ac7d057ec6a7ea0a6683ccee1bc322de 4257
00055.txt
T56 ab7a37845e48e2e6dc8a9619d0846c6c 3454
00056.txt
T57 fdb2e8b420545d5c7bd71f6774e0dd59 2664
00057.txt
T58 7d92906708f90aa1e4b26a9a62253889 1658
00058.txt
T59 e4f6c49b122718e02a661ab7fc1e4cab 4833
00059.txt
T60 50d388ce0b7c9609957109e2e420c8e6 1375
00060.txt
T61 c5ed4a4b6e58bc47030a9af08b30052a 2990
00061.txt
T62 31a4a732023ac8c5693a9f9a20a7e456 5484
00062.txt
T63 1f308968e0eaac482ac9a21070d6da5b 1710
00063.txt
T64 4d29a6d1dcb0ace7f1694fbc52473e84 5045
00064.txt
T65 5dbd1cdd7ce13638a308cf518a4a6ab5 2451
00065.txt
T66 8f453a9c3ce3ac7b8e73a9bdadc087e1 5020
00066.txt
T67 97401874ba29ba28b43271da5717d663 5060
00067.txt
T68 9187d81bc63b016b10cabc005674fa07 346
00068.txt
T69 f2a1472c26a058f59a6f7a0ffeffa402 2198
00069.txt
T70 bea90f2241a0f7e7d243e7f95ec3f253 2174
00070.txt
T71 9b65148c80a78c45451e162f6f9ce709 3072
00071.txt
T72 487694506860e29059b34f69336e60ef 2349
00072.txt
T73 f3daa7a17260eef0990a33825f254175 5305
00073.txt
T74 1399ccc719fdd12848cb282a35cff86d 1638
00074.txt
T75 3b4434b91311001ad5f936833defed00 279
00075.txt
T76 f1e67f81d3ff4c7e5292db72c9450d4c 1048
00076.txt
T77 48da80f210860811b4191524e7f63a70 8485
00077.txt
T78 5e0df69bafb060bf2764a1ef4c489d37 9411
00078.txt
T79 dbf427edb1c5042a3651a4558cc6441b 5174
00079.txt
T80 74f8d2c036a303242eb13a076ffa3600 6267
00080.txt
T81 b368299ce11743114c1eb7c6c0046f0b 4819
00081.txt
T82 c7d6d71efd0d3756f34dca9872fe2c10 5736
00082.txt
T83 861ce3d5dd1b32cfed3ec91a22178819 595
00083.txt
T87 379ba6ecfb6c7d7e6b88ea8349e3147b 459
00087.txt
J999999 be686f794c8ebf133e02f57211324519 49837
00001thm.jpg
AR1 textx-pro 7894b4790aa12b88dfd4c87b31e07a48 1363
00001.pro
AR2 78c70bbb21488ff185d4a8733c7ae482 128817
00001.QC.jpg
AR3 704a6e00ecf660696be7fa7037f5155b 34908
00002.QC.jpg
AR4 3cc1c557b5ea4331ae5a4dabaa60696c 4498
00003.pro
AR5 e3d24f4022bef8f7cefd319736efb653 91102
00003.QC.jpg
AR6 76086087f7dbb495f8666f5ccc3ab005 54147
00004.pro
AR7 5144c7511e3f8c22d62297d512cbba41 62682
00004.QC.jpg
AR8 27a7f31e2e10474f966b4c9e3d54f5ae 98440
00005.pro
AR9 e2389aa6372f673ec09e21b5e0a2e4a2 94703
00005.QC.jpg
AR10 15e25f9d827c2d27ac8e5965adda1a3b 121884
00006.pro
AR11 eac9a41fe1ccf08949eadbc3a18720e9 98294
00006.QC.jpg
AR12 f59a82d23ebb4ea76b5c7afcb20455fe 137537
00007.pro
AR13 debbd5b14c9361492854314b67641cd3 105464
00007.QC.jpg
AR14 ed6b1bb1404879e7cd914eff36e54aeb 87689
00008.pro
AR15 073bb399d0c6f7ccfc21d14dbcfaa1e2 94087
00008.QC.jpg
AR16 0885d63f33cc106f179d009f868398f8 134032
00009.pro
AR17 08bbe09a3b2a1411214a6272515f973b 103866
00009.QC.jpg
AR18 09db7a739005ef004f3a798902ff4ae6 129980
00010.pro
AR19 44edda55cb3d24c563b2ded9779442a9 100276
00010.QC.jpg
AR20 56a894140654239af29c884816dd8539 126693
00011.pro
AR21 84b0a1854c38234570d4744be04748ab 101130
00011.QC.jpg
AR22 b678b18f08d3f37b1cf507719844e9b2 48877
00012.pro
AR23 32f1c9fc5f399ca08299f252be10cfaf 93085
00012.QC.jpg
AR24 375d2f7253d8f01c77d71973ee404965 131867
00013.pro
AR25 7dc9541fd5de059dc4a0f85dbbcc132a 105239
00013.QC.jpg
AR26 546f26373f1813de5e856b3800f253ec 130703
00014.pro
AR27 702c512d401ff1e93cc9544e142b7ac7 98824
00014.QC.jpg
AR28 2f09e4b5d5f1762b95241f941dfbccc0 82784
00015.pro
AR29 3cc8477aa6a47f7211f29f95a1f02f8f 78312
00015.QC.jpg
AR30 7f0cacc83d6abcaf3cbf666c490548b3 43638
00016.pro
AR31 70dfffe490e1c11e2d118fd0fde4c8ea 86991
00016.QC.jpg
AR32 6bab650f6994052b0678d330d671d8d6 120986
00017.pro
AR33 af12655938b093e78291cc6ade882cfa 100882
00017.QC.jpg
AR34 422a913141495aeefd96ee7c9ed110ff 113576
00018.pro
AR35 1c635aa41ed7be6c01cb8234aa149ee4 90318
00018.QC.jpg
AR36 86b4119f4e509749fd64d6dfb8069a42 31334
00019.pro
AR37 6ae09e8395dd9df3043ee4b5fe18aa7a 81271
00019.QC.jpg
AR38 96d3875bf9980a1a4afee29e3e8f9780 129579
00020.pro
AR39 8dc96e986236300b0b5549d5e3a9ac5e 101990
00020.QC.jpg
AR40 65a6ab7abf434c8985b976c5d0724770 137713
00021.pro
AR41 a288578cd4935f16b00857076a6fcf67 108890
00021.QC.jpg
AR42 f4f9fef418a474ac32f1dcbfdd48939f 123940
00022.pro
AR43 08265c263f356e409304185fb3465d93 100281
00022.QC.jpg
AR44 a5bf59f2ec3641a9f13743f32159aad7 126063
00023.pro
AR45 59e9f7454a80a9d5ace691eb5462607e 102235
00023.QC.jpg
AR46 9d62e83ae76b9e03f6b235edbaf0d5a2 65236
00024.pro
AR47 659d28c9f9b624459c31f19b54f04300 90838
00024.QC.jpg
AR48 2195b8d84ea141684d2168ec4030d8ff 128689
00025.pro
AR49 352feb4cda85bfec1eadab8d99f51344 104808
00025.QC.jpg
AR50 627713fecccf12703fd4d68fa8d38aa5 56716
00026.pro
AR51 14e8239f66834a8d37be96fc50c7a40c 95466
00026.QC.jpg
AR52 17afc452a9432a156bf2b3456316ea29 106206
00027.pro
AR53 c46d8ed8a52e6b0269f471d19bb41697 91950
00027.QC.jpg
AR54 1f646798724c77251af148320e7619a4 49904
00028.pro
AR55 163a10c37822f42567ae4e51b0ba8b57 90143
00028.QC.jpg
AR56 9fc7b65ac11a07ac26c2c1b40f4eb34c 96969
00029.pro
AR57 88ad934a0d54c83c29a18d48f5172136 105771
00029.QC.jpg
AR58 413e8bc9b61a0f896f40ea09658cb229 18161
00030.pro
AR59 2190858b5b7e538454bb93ddfb817ab1 87259
00030.QC.jpg
AR60 a5c8860d5ea443d86f0333777e880db6 25513
00031.pro
AR61 58c2febf230a8c21f7fae52cdb4b7419 99040
00031.QC.jpg
AR62 db5878232e63fdeb3405462d13f0dbe8 25724
00032.pro
AR63 1e662c860b7f16244a7f53ad2fc8007c 100946
00032.QC.jpg
AR64 935918195343767add226b5d0ed40e88 53436
00033.pro
AR65 74adad684ac9a1b142a3d03bc3deaf91 99881
00033.QC.jpg
AR66 da91b8fd3f59c2d0b381f3619c1853de 112190
00034.pro
AR67 3fc1a5792c936a85c4637e7a231dc98e 98361
00034.QC.jpg
AR68 20df5ab0228358cb075ff618a5cf52ef 59192
00035.pro
AR69 1d2c4f8590e668838418b0f2e228dc79 101306
00035.QC.jpg
AR70 b507a4b688745e8b4781cb2ad389c738 72986
00036.pro
AR71 31d188f6459850fea2ce50fd87e1d560 102875
00036.QC.jpg
AR72 52edba01edf99d082db3b8114060d726 55312
00037.pro
AR73 bafde60392ac52aefc2c78d740c94018 97482
00037.QC.jpg
AR74 e69bd92403f162b78541665084ce5145 73502
00038.pro
AR75 5ee1edf4a1336825ea48b35ec9c06447 102596
00038.QC.jpg
AR76 c4c918ee777cd8d4e0c88e4fd58ba719 66164
00039.pro
AR77 147027fda10eb0369b9b05e55647f10e 92874
00039.QC.jpg
AR78 f959508a39554b6b0dc2f5c39642a5dc 69237
00040.pro
AR79 3b121408cc1fdc39518bec10906b22d8 95849
00040.QC.jpg
AR80 534640e8ce1fe8cf8e117f9ddd55dee0 85471
00041.pro
AR81 aa78c332cdd5f909acc8be893351550c 98355
00041.QC.jpg
AR82 ad09ca99f83dbe080728faf727fb2b09 53318
00042.pro
AR83 962d34149c7a50d37035ec38bed53f54 84627
00042.QC.jpg
AR84 bc4c61d490548ee78ffb601aab1c0a78 4117
00043.pro
AR85 005b51aaa624068d22275f646f67d282 66339
00043.QC.jpg
AR86 fb876ea67dbb9c465f0c013384027096 110340
00044.pro
AR87 a60104e71e9b36daec444bd6c0868d6c 92767
00044.QC.jpg
AR88 3e9b6873f4e77ebc5c6ba87d1e8d5794 71780
00045.pro
AR89 402885104e260e813e28c9e399952af6 69776
00045.QC.jpg
AR90 8f03aeb0cbdbcc95bbb70e970df23921 13062
00046.pro
AR91 dbe33f667dbf90386409cb7c98100d58 52028
00046.QC.jpg
AR92 d0be09edae8116d2fda8e544888ad514 43753
00047.pro
AR93 165ee44904d7a9f76724197287f00a45 83219
00047.QC.jpg
AR94 50b037de346f1c4df28d172556787655 128945
00048.pro
AR95 d41df772a23b8137c7df02528a386931 101902
00048.QC.jpg
AR96 22f70857f660abc8deafcba43cf14848 110349
00049.pro
AR97 c619fea04a391cccd1935b09a89cf2fb 99698
00049.QC.jpg
AR98 0646c2afb18eacbaa0385e2673b4e781 74583
00050.pro
AR99 ae254fdfb10127ef1d40231faab8db1b 96128
00050.QC.jpg
AR100 0783f2c036fd1fb1538628403a8d8e5b 135120
00051.pro
AR101 140556c9129bd593da5831ba1ef1effd 106283
00051.QC.jpg
AR102 4fa0fd1833ccb0f6682bebf66b8fee3f 70814
00052.pro
AR103 4eac4e2ad6a40a7b6e837928b49a89a5 84921
00052.QC.jpg
AR104 bad6257ab20161f4249355f84e1a7f31 136361
00053.pro
AR105 8b187290f604d4a2091cc61b65e332ce 105358
00053.QC.jpg
AR106 a81f11fa0c646b86dd174142a99c0540 128240
00054.pro
AR107 a78be6b0a89cc36829841ab38ce02ec7 99464
00054.QC.jpg
AR108 c0aa7e84a772bb0c79be3a443f9dc2dd 96153
00055.pro
AR109 4d0734f48ad0ea9dbd2e4940a32112aa 99929
00055.QC.jpg
AR110 6cf4f217f17c4177057d7eb942e57fa1 84184
00056.pro
AR111 846a4667419068632e47e3ce2d7ef6b8 92513
00056.QC.jpg
AR112 9673e13fcb2ae6a8e1366967df120ae9 59696
00057.pro
AR113 a9d095fe6c9a6faf81ed3318dd71b5f4 104022
00057.QC.jpg
AR114 5878517911bf2495e20e6ea08231dc68 36736
00058.pro
AR115 a75440c5fd26275c466768e2e4b2e887 77666
00058.QC.jpg
AR116 4299f878d6ea0d96ff66267bcc4c4dfa 114976
00059.pro
AR117 7321d996531e8803362a5d55126e4758 97695
00059.QC.jpg
AR118 3829d37e9d204316fab53f36aeb95e4d 27403
00060.pro
AR119 81ad00211e192ed4991b71cfad3a30ed 67868
00060.QC.jpg
AR120 9ac2119d2b19102d49c9b726130972ab 71698
00061.pro
AR121 875dd98bc316011156de47474072d127 72311
00061.QC.jpg
AR122 428bc284916120411ca709c95871ff94 131099
00062.pro
AR123 818d6523582762648597af0ff3a5397d 97152
00062.QC.jpg
AR124 242b2f84c2df75fbc533807abe562e81 40818
00063.pro
AR125 d25035bffdd25cb4079f5c1245327fb4 75613
00063.QC.jpg
AR126 caefe797ebdacd0c8d203f8d11e43a5d 122890
00064.pro
AR127 234d3e0807ec78b84a65b965eeb91302 95722
00064.QC.jpg
AR128 d28f5deecb230b3de17f197681a9173b 56016
00065.pro
AR129 44e06e6d56cf4c60c3e47067bbe7890b 94777
00065.QC.jpg
AR130 f87ce26ec7fcc000719db2c987e043f0 122643
00066.pro
AR131 6c290ce59c6e0899e2c91d16f270c84d 95082
00066.QC.jpg
AR132 ddfba28b12f9ed10cd8db16ae2a2cfdb 124192
00067.pro
AR133 3171d4dd830121dc27f1190a5ae63e2e 97410
00067.QC.jpg
AR134 4bdff7c4c3da33971cf5139e8d36e75f 6104
00068.pro
AR135 847a7a86b976934786b888e3840f0a7e 76179
00068.QC.jpg
AR136 86757481280aa10fd40afbaf9874df52 47945
00069.pro
AR137 735004cf1da4651f3b7bce0341c54d2e 86698
00069.QC.jpg
AR138 e6ab835c92081d951c3aa5e2df976150 49252
00070.pro
AR139 2ce00502bd36d47c97e1f75053c6df4a 83981
00070.QC.jpg
AR140 6e5252febd93b18197844180c1dfde17 68003
00071.pro
AR141 c97ec80c9abb34757be897f61fc9fc3d 100353
00071.QC.jpg
AR142 be2a061a29033f5b20521000835fed0c 53264
00072.pro
AR143 63093dc27d3f00432e0e331661ccb8d8 74318
00072.QC.jpg
AR144 b70ed59adf6895fa716b3e57aa9a7c34 127405
00073.pro
AR145 b898bfcb813b56e2509b138d52fd8fb7 102952
00073.QC.jpg
AR146 bce9c0fe4713afe301190580f2b06b0a 32465
00074.pro
AR147 acf569e82cff5bfdc4941c8dfc9ad760 77660
00074.QC.jpg
AR148 9a66b3cb1a5503eab312d11988ee8284 6200
00075.pro
AR149 ed83a50240137a5cf47384138b2693bd 83443
00075.QC.jpg
AR150 272a66dddf0894743c1c49fb27b5da81 16445
00076.pro
AR151 43fbfd80818b06447515aa095f0fffa8 75822
00076.QC.jpg
AR152 b9bb0b6247afd8dc4a4b355e5101d024 190026
00077.pro
AR153 f506d9166f76c875d4bf41e02f15bc72 87649
00077.QC.jpg
AR154 29a95f987f5da536c987ebf00a1614cd 210231
00078.pro
AR155 a12f6ae25b4653795058159f0fb345f5 91447
00078.QC.jpg
AR156 9b8e79a833997e36c23f878a76c01411 121142
00079.pro
AR157 8a6bbdb4def92ec23d10c2bd882e63da 91380
00079.QC.jpg
AR158 7e410ddda7c87f2005548c2dedf2ab05 148026
00080.pro
AR159 e3952ec571c3f17f20f520f0e070ae20 93609
00080.QC.jpg
AR160 05460fb15b5b6948a785fd641eb4c58f 91761
00081.pro
AR161 c20cc143b4c680ce82757e15ddde019e 89882
00081.QC.jpg
AR162 b01c3d1c85977ad3be871d53ce8e4e9a 131333
00082.pro
AR163 342fcc5cd7d3b960c2d46cada884f5e9 83082
00082.QC.jpg
AR164 fc8b4e9d679c881e3d832c099d7061be 9545
00083.pro
AR165 9ca70967715003a4d6ce9e32aafc4cf5 83127
00083.QC.jpg
AR166 c75caefecb05cb2ca9edb3745014c137 45092
00085.QC.jpg
AR167 ee56a1809a1cb138e466fea1d1b77a15 60280
00086.QC.jpg
AR168 4e3f7f7f551ef315071693eb1c2a4b29 800
00087.pro
AR169 ef1691d6f8b86150b68cde1e0e50f611 44408
00087.QC.jpg
AR170 aaecf3789043cbbf596181d4d1192f42 24
processing.instr
AR171 b3951dd7c11b2d7ed85aa55a5b9b7bd0 124566
UF00065513_00165.mets
METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
METS:div DMDID ORDER 0 main
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
METS:fptr FILEID
P2
D2 Frontispiece
P3 Plate
D3 The little Christmas-tree 3 Poem
P4 81
D4 Little Lord Fauntleroy 4 Chapter
P5 82
P6 83
P7 84
P8 85
P9 86 5
P10 87 6
P11 88 7
P12 89 8
P13 90 9
P14 91 10
D5 snow-storm
P15 92 (MULTIPLE)
P16 93
P17 94
P18 95
D6 Santa Claus a lake
P19 96
P20 97
P21 98
P22 99
P23 100
P24 101
P25 102
P26 103
D7 How fishes climb hill
P27 104
P28 105
P29 106
P30 107
D8 My echo
P31 108
P32 109
D9 School-life at Rugby
P33 110
P34 111
P35 112
P36 113
P37 114
P38 115
P39 116
D10 A morning during vacation-time
P40 117
P41 118
P42 119
P43 120
D11 Putting this and that together 11
P44 121
D12 Sky-sailing 12
P45 122
D13 One rhyme in world
P46 123
D14 Benevolent boy! 14
P47 124
P48 125
P49 126
P50 127
P51 128
P52 129
P53 130
P54 131
P55 132
P56 133
D15 considerate crocodile 15
P57 134
D16 romance 16
P58 135
D17 rajah's paper-cutter 17
P59 136
P60 137
D18 Mrs. Kriss Kringle 18
P61 138
P62 139
P63 140
D19 Among the law-makers 19
P64 141
P65 142
D20 From Bach to Wagner 20
P66 143
P67 144
D21 Sixteen six 21
P68 145
D22 smallest dog 22
P69 146
D23 adventure mouse 23
P70 147
D24 Through register
P71 148
D25 Five boys 25
P72 149
D26 Jack-in-the-pulpit 26
P73 150
P74 151
D27 For very folk 27
P75 152
P76 153
D28 letter-box 28
P77 154
P78 155
D29 Agassiz association: Fifty-sixth report 29
P79 156
P80 157
D30 riddle-box 30
P81 158
P82 159
P83 160
D31 31 Back
P85
P86
D32 32 Spine
P87
METS:behaviorSec VIEWS Options available user for viewing 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
UFDC_Interface_Loader


St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00165
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00165
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    The little Christmas-tree
        Page 81
    Little Lord Fauntleroy
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    The snow-storm - The magic clocks - Part II
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
    Santa Claus on a lake
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    How fishes climb hill
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
    My echo
        Page 108
        Page 109
    School-life at Rugby
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
    A morning at Rugby during vacation-time
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    Putting this and that together
        Page 121
    Sky-sailing
        Page 122
    One little rhyme in a world of rhyme
        Page 123
    Benevolent boy! - Christmas before last
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    The considerate crocodile
        Page 134
    A romance
        Page 135
    The rajah's paper-cutter
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Mrs. Kriss Kringle - Our holiday party
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
    Among the law-makers
        Page 141
        Page 142
    From Bach to Wagner
        Page 143
        Page 144
    Sixteen and six
        Page 145
    The smallest dog in the world
        Page 146
    The adventure of a mouse
        Page 147
    Through the register
        Page 148
    Five little boys
        Page 149
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 150
        Page 151
    For very little folk
        Page 152
        Page 153
    The letter-box
        Page 154
        Page 155
    The Agassiz association: Fifty-sixth report
        Page 156
        Page 157
    The riddle-box
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text



































fj








cil
-A X,

31



ji







. . . . . .


oft






























































































































PORTRAIT OF A LITTLE GIRL.

ENGRAVED FOR ST. NICHOLAS, AFTER A PAINTING BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.


~9:5

:: "

~-:ei
1


::j


;;---
cr,


--- ~-,
















ST. NICHOLAS.



VOL. XIII. DECEMBER, 1885. No. 2.

[Copyright, 1885, by THE CENTURY CO.]


THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS-TREE.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.

THE Christmas-day was coming, the Christmas-eve drew near;
The fir-trees they were '.11:-,' low, at midnight cold and clear.
And this was what the fir-trees said, all in the pale moonlight:
Now, which of us shall chosen be to grace the Holy Night?"
The tall trees and the .;...1 trees raised each a lofty head,
In glad and secret confidence, though not a word they said.
But one, the baby of the band, could not restrain a sigh:
"You all will be approved," he said, "but oh, what chance have I?
I am so small, so very small, no one will mark or know
How thick and green my needles are, how true my branches grow;
Few toys or candles could I hold, but heart and will are free,
And in my heart of hearts I know I am a Christmas-tree."
The Christmas angel hovered near; he caught the grieving word,
And laughing low he hurried forth, with love and pity stirred.
He sought and found St. Nicholas, the dear old Christmas Saint,
And in his fatherly kind ear rehearsed the fir-tree's plaint.
Saints are all powerful, we know, so it befell that day
That, axe on shoulder, to the grove a woodman took his way.
One baby-girl he had at home, and he went forth to find
A little tree as small as she, just suited to his mind.
Oh, glad and proud the baby-fir, amid its brethren tall,
To be thus chosen and singled out, the first among them all!
He stretched his fragrant branches, his little heart beat fast.
He was a real Christmas-tree : he had his wish at last.
One large and shining apple with cheeks of ruddy gold,
Six tapers, and a tiny doll were all that he could hold.
The baby laughed, the baby crowed to see the tapers bright;
The forest baby felt the joy, and shared in the delight.
And when at last the tapers died, and when the baby slept,
The little fir in silent night a patient vigil kept.
Though scorched and brown its needles were, it had no heart to grieve.
"I have not lived in vain," he said. "Thank God for Christmas-eve!"
VOL. XIII.-6.






[DECEMBER,


LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.




LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.


CHAPTER II.

.,i1iii. F i F TE was never a


- i- rl
I'e

b,' k






Ui: U bi


i.,-ire amazed lit-
> :- boy than Ce-
..iiic during the
,,ek that fol-
lowed; there was
never so strange
S or so unreal a
Week. In the first
'' place, the story
S his mamma told
him was a very
curious one. He
was obliged to
hear it two or
three times be-
fore he could un-
l -itandit. He could
i...r imagine what Mr.
i-i..bbs would think
.i .t. It began with
: ,s; his grandpapa,
seen, was an earl;
...:le, if he had not
* fail from his horse,


would have been an earl, too, in time; and after
his death, his other uncle would have been an earl,
if he had not died suddenly, in Rome, of a fever.
After that, his own papa, if he had lived, would
have been an earl; but since they all had died and
only Cedric was left, it appeared that he was to be
an earl after his grandpapa's death--and for the
present he was Lord Fauntleroy.
He turned quite pale when he was first told of it.
Oh Dearest !" he said, I should rather
not be an earl. None of the boys are earls. Can't
I not be one ? "
But it seemed to be unavoidable. And when,
that evening, they sat together by the open window
looking out into the shabby street, he and his
mother had along talk about it. Cedric sat on his
footstool, clasping one knee in his favorite attitude
and wearing a bewildered little face rather red from
the exertion of thinking. His. ,,..ili.,. i had sent
for him to come to England, and his mamma
thought he must go.
Because," she said, looking out of the window
with sorrowful eyes, "I know your papa would wish
it to be so, Ceddie. He loved his home very much;


i


and there are many things to be thought of that
a little boy can't quite understand. I should be a
selfish little mother if I did not send you. When
you are a man, you will see why."
Ceddie shook his head mournfully.
"I shall be very sorry to leave Mr. Hobbs," he
said. I 'm afraid he '11 miss me, and I shall miss
him. And I shall miss them all."
When Mr. Havisham -who was the family law-
yer of the EarlofDorincourt, and who had been sent
by him to bring Lord Fauntleroy to England--
came the next day, Cedric heard many things. But,
somehow, it did not console him to hear that he
was to be a very rich man when he grew up, and
that he would have castles here and castles there,
and great parks and deep mines and grand estates
and tenantry. He was troubled about his friend,
Mr. Hobbs, and he went to see him at the store
soon after breakfast, in great anxiety of mind.
He found him reading the morning paper, and
he approached him with a grave demeanor. He
really felt it would be a great shock to Mr. Hobbs
to hear what had befallen him, and on his way to
the store he had been thinking how it would be
best to break the news.
Hello said Mr. Hobbs. Mornin' "
Good-morning," said Cedric.
He did not climb up on the high stool as usual,
but sat down on a cracker-box and clasped his
knee, and was so silent for a few moments that Mr.
Hobbs finally looked up inquiringly over the top
of his newspaper.
Hello he said again.
Cedric gathered all his strength of mind to-
gether.
"Mr. Hobbs," he said, "do you remember
what we were talking about yesterday morning? "
"Well," replied Mr. Hobbs,-" seems to me it
was England."
Yes," said Cedric ; "but just when Mary came
for me, you know? "
Mr. Hobbs rubbed the back of his head.
We was mentioning Queen Victoria and the
aristocracy."
"Yes," said Cedric, rather hesitatingly, and-
and earls; don't you know ? "
"Why, yes," returned Mr. Hobbs; "we did
touch 'em up a little; that 's so "
Cedric flushed up to the curly bang on his fore-
head. Nothing so embarrassing as this had ever
happened to him in his life. He was a little afraid







LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


that it might be a trifle embarrassing to Mr. Hobbs,
too.
You said," he proceeded, that you would n't
have them sitting'round on your cracker-barrels."
So I did! returned Mr. Hobbs, stoutly.
" And I meant it. Let 'em try it that 's all "
Mr. Hobbs," said Cedric, one is sitting on
this box now "
Mr. Hobbs almost jumped out of his chair.
What he exclaimed.
"Yes," Cedric announced, with due modesty;
"Iam one -or I am going to be. Isha'n't deceive
you."
Mr. Hobbs looked agitated. He rose up sud-
denly and went to look at the thermometer,
"The mercury 's got into your head he ex-
claimed, turning back to examine his youngfriend's
countenance. "It is a hot day! How do you
feel? Got any pain? When did you begin to
feel that way? "
He put his big hand on the little boy's hair.
This was more embarrassing than ever.
"Thank you," said Ceddie; "I 'm all right.
There is nothing the matter with my head. I 'm
sorry to say it 's true, Mr. Hobbs. That was what
Mary came to take me home for. Mr. Havisham
was telling my mamma, and he is a lawyer."
Mr. Hobbs sank into his chair and mopped his
forehead with his handkerchief.
One of us has got a sunstroke i he exclaimed.
No," returned Cedric, we have n't. We
shall have to make the best of it, Mr. Hobbs.
Mr. Havisham came all the way from England to
tell us about it. My grandpapa sent him."
Mr. Hobbs stared wildly at the innocent, serious
little face before him.
"Who is your grandfather ?" he asked.
Cedric put his hand in his pocket and carefully
drew out a piece of paper, on which something was
written in his own round, irregular hand.
I could n't easily remember it, so I wrote it
down on this," he said. And he read aloud slowly :
"'John Arthur Molyneux Errol, Earl of Dorin-
court.' That is his name, and he lives in a castle
- in two or three castles, I think. And my papa,
who died, was his youngest son; and I should n't
have been a lord or an earl if my papa had n't
died; and my papa would n't have been an earl if
his two brothers had n't died. But they all died,
and there is no one but me no boy and so I
have to be one; and my grandpapa has sent for
me to come to England."
Mr. Hobbs seemed to grow hotter and hotter.
He mopped his forehead and his bald spot and
breathed hard. He began to see that something
very remarkable had happened; .but when he
looked at the little boy sitting on the cracker-box,


with the innocent, anxious expression in his child-
ish eyes, and saw that he was not changed at all,
but was simply as he had been the day before,
just a handsome, cheerful, brave little fellow in
a black cloth suit and red neck-ribbon, all this in-
formation about the nobility bewildered him. He
was all the more bewildered because Cedric gave
it with such ingenuous simplicity, and plainly
without realizing himself how stupendous it was.
Wha- what did you say your name was ?"
Mr. Hobbs inquired.
It's Cedric Errol, Lord Fauntleroy," answered
Cedric. "That was what Mr. Havisham called
me. He said when I went into the room: 'And
so this is little Lord Fauntleroy "
"Well," said Mr. Hobbs, I '1 be--jiggered!"
This was an exclamation he always used when
he was very much astonished or excited. He could
think of nothing else to say just at that puzzling
moment.
Cedric felt it to be quite a proper and suitable
ejaculation. His respect and affection for Mr.
Hobbs were so great that he admired and approved
of all his remarks. He had not seen enough of
society as yet to make him realize that sometimes
Mr. Hobbs was not quite conventional. He knew,
of course, that he was different from his mamma,
but then, his mamma was a lady, and he had an
idea that ladies were always different from gentle-
men.
He looked at Mr. Hobbs wistfully.
"England is a long way off, is n't it? he
asked.
It's across the Atlantic Ocean," Mr. Hobbs
answered.
That 's the worst of it," said Cedric. "Per-
haps I shall not see you again for a long time. I
don't like to think of that, Mr. Hobbs."
"The best of friends must part," said Mr.
Hobbs.
Well," said Cedric, we have been friends for
a great many years, have n't we ? "
"Ever since you was born," Mr. Hobbs an-
swered. You was about six weeks old when you
was first walked out on this street."
Ah," remarked Cedric, with a sigh, "I never
thought I should have to be an earl then "
"You think," said Mr. Hobbs, "there's no
getting out of it ?"
"'I 'm afraid not," answered Cedric. My
mamma says that my papa would wish me to do
it. But if I have to be an earl, there 's one thing
I can do: I can try to be a good one. I 'm not
going to be a tyrant. And if there is ever to be
another war with America, I shall try to stop it."
His conversation with Mr. Hobbs was a long
and serious one. Once having got over the first






LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


shock, Mr. Hobbs was not so rancorous as might
have been expected; he endeavored to resign him-
self to the situation, and before the interview was
at an end he had asked a great many questions.
As Cedric could answer but few of them, he en-
deavored to answer them himself, and being fairly
launched on the subject of earls and marquises and
. !..r -. explained many things in a way which
would probably have astonished Mr. Havisham,
could that gentleman have heard it.
But then there were many things which astonished
Mr. Havisham. He had spent all his life in England,
and was not accustomed to American people and
American habits. He had been connected pro-
fessionally with the family of the Earl of Dorin-
court for nearly forty years, and he knew all about
its grand estates and its great wealth and impor-
tance; and, in a cold, business-like way, he felt an
interest in this little boy, who, in the future, was to
be the master and owner of them all,- the future
Earl of Dorincourt. He had known all about the
old Earl's disappointment in his elder sons and all
about his fierce rage at Captain Cedric's American
marriage, and he knew how he still hated the gentle
little widow and would not speak of her except
with bitter and cruel words. He insisted that she
was only a common American girl, who had en-
trapped his son into marrying her because she
knew he was an earl's son. The old lawyer him-
self had more than half believed this was all true.
He had seen a great many selfish, mercenary peo-
ple in his life, and he had not a good opinion of
Americans. When he had been driven into the
cheap street, and his coup had stopped before the
cheap, small house, he had felt actually shocked.
It seemed really quite dreadful to think that the
future owner of Dorincourt Castle and W i..lii.....
Towers and Chorlworth, and all the other stately
splendors, should have been born and brought up
in an insignificant house in a street with a sort of
green-grocery at the corner. He wondered what
kind of a child he would be, and what kind of a
mother he had. He rather shrank from seeing them
both. He had a sort of pride in the noble family
whose legal affairs he had conducted so long, and
it would have annoyed him very much to have
found himself obliged to manage a woman who
would seem to him a vulgar, money-loving person,
with no respect for her dead husband's country
and the dignity of his name. It was a very old
name and a very splendid one, and Mr. Havisham
had a great respect for it himself, though he was
only a cold, keen, business-like old lawyer.
When Mary handed him into the small parlor
he looked around it critically. It was plainly fur-
nished, but it had a home-like look; there were no
cheap, common ornaments, and no cheap, gaudy


pictures; the few adornments on the walls were in
good taste, and about the room were many pretty
things which a woman's hand might have made.
Not at all bad so far," he had said to himself;
"but perhaps the Captain's taste predominated."
But when Mrs. Errol came into the room, he
began to think she herself might have had some-
thing to do with it. If he had not been quite a self-
contained and stiff old gentleman, he would proba-
bly have started when he saw her. She looked,
in the simple black dress, fitting closely to her
slender figure, more like a young girl than the
mother of a boy of seven. She had a pretty, sor-
rowful young face, and a very tender, innocent
look in her large brown eyes,- the sorrowful look
that had never quite left her face since her hus-
band had died. Cedric was used to seeing it there;
the only times he had ever seen it fade out had
been when he was playing with her or talking to
her, and had said some old-fashioned thing, or
used some long word he had picked up out of
the newspapers or in his conversations with Mr.
Hobbs. He was fond of using long words, and he
was always pleased when they made her laugh,
though he could not understand why they were
laughable; they were quite serious matters with
him. The lawyer's experience taught him to read
people's characters very shrewdly, and as soon as
he saw Cedric's mother he knew that the old Earl
had made a great mistake in thinking her a vul-
gar, mercenary woman. Mr. Havisham had never
been married, he had never even been in love,
but he divined that this pretty young creature with
the sweet voice and sad eyes had married Captain
Errol only because she loved him with all her
affectionate heart, and that she had never once
thought it an advantage that he was an earl's son.
And he saw he should have no trouble with her,
and he began to feel that perhaps little Lord
Fauntleroy might not be such a trial to his noble
family, after all. The Captain had been a hand-
some fellow, and the young mother was very
pretty, and perhaps the boy might be well enough
to look at.
When he first told Mrs. Errol what he had come
for, she turned very pale.
"Oh!" she said; "will he have to be taken
away from me ? We love each other so much He
is such a happiness to me! He is all I have. I
have tried to be a good mother to him." And her
sweet young voice trembled, and the tears rushed
into her eyes. "'You do not know what he has
been to me she said.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
I am obliged to tell you," he said, that the
Earl of Dorincourt is not-is not very friendly
toward you. He is an old man, and his preju-


[DECEMBER,







LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


dices are very strong. He has always especially
disliked America and Americans, and was very
much enraged by his son's marriage. I am sorry
to be the bearer of so unpleasant a communica-
tion, but he is very fixed in his determination
not to see you. His plan is that Lord Fauntleroy
shall be educated under his own supervision; that
he shall live with him. The Earl is attached to
Dorincourt Castle, and spends a great deal of time
there. He is a victim to inflammatory gout, and
is not fond of London. Lord Fauntleroy will,
therefore, be likely to live chiefly at Dorincourt.


The Earl offers to you as a
home, Court .Lodge, which is
situated pleasantly, and is not
very far from the castle. He
also offers you a suitable in-
come. Lord Fauntleroy willbe
permitted to visit you ; the only
stipulation is, that you shall not
visit him or enter the park gates.
You see you will not be really
separated from your son, and I
assure you, Madam, the terms
are not so harsh as-as they
might have been. The advan-
tage of such surroundings and
education as Lord Fauntleroy
will have, I am sure you must
see, will be very great."
He felt a little uneasy lest she
should begin to cry or make a
scene, as he knew some women
would have done. It embar-
rassed and annoyed him to see
women cry.
But she did not. She went
to the window and stood with
her face turned away for a few
moments, and he saw she was


trying to steady herself.
'"Captain Errol was very fondO TP
of Dorincourt," she said at last.
" He loved England, and everything English. It
was always a grief to him that he was parted from
his home. He was proud of his home, and of his
name. He would wish-I know he would wish
that his son should know the beautiful old places,
and be brought up in such a way as would be suit-
able to his future position."
Then she came back to the table and stood look-
ing up at Mr. Havisham very gently.
"IMy husband would wish it," she said. It
will be best for my little boy. I know-- I am sure
the Earl would not be so unkind as to try to teach
him not to love me; and I know-even if he tried
-that my little boy is too much like his father to be


harmed. He has a warm, faithful nature, and a
true heart. He would love me even if he did not
see me; and so long as we may see each other, I
ought not to suffer very much."
She thinks very little of herself," the lawyer
thought. "She does not make any terms for
herself."
Madam," he said aloud, I respect your con-
sideration for your son. He will thank you for it
when he is a man. I assure you Lord Fauntleroy
will be most carefully guarded, and every effort will
be used to insure his happiness. The Earl of


I M1IGHT PrETHAS L 1,UT
,,G m\- rAIPL, SAID C ''.... PAGEF


I NErX'EE TTIOUHIIT OF'
57.)


Dorincourt will be as anxious for his comfort and
well-being as you yourself could be."
I hope," said the tender little mother, in a
rather broken voice, that his grandfather will
love Ceddie. The little boy has a very affection-
ate nature; and he has always been loved."
Mr. Havisham cleared his throat again. He
could not quite imagine the gouty, fiery-tempered
old Earl loving any one very much ; but he knew
it would be to his interest to be kind, in his irrita-
ble way, to the child who was to be his heir. He
knew, too, that if Ceddie were at all a credit to his
name, his grandfather would be proud of him.
Lord Fauntleroy will be comfortable, I am


`o.
---.

-~Zr~







LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


sure," he replied. "It was with a view to his
happiness that the Earl desired that you should
be near enough to him to see him frequently."
He did not think it would be discreet to repeat
the exact words the Earl had used, which were in
fact neither polite nor amiable.
Mr. Havisham preferred to express his noble
patron's offer in smoother and more courteous
language.
He had another slight shock when Mrs. Errol
asked Mary to find her little boy and bring him to
her, and Mary told her where he was.
Sure I '11 foind him aisy enough, ma'am," she
said; "Lfor it 's wid Mr. Hobbs he is this minnit,
setting' on his high shtool by the counter an' talking'
pollytics, most likely, or enj'yin' hisself among
the soap an' candles an' pertaties, as sinsible an'
shwate as ye plase."
Mr. Hobbs has known him all his life," Mrs.
Errol said to the lawyer. He is very kind to Ced-
die, and there is a great friendship between them."
Remembering the glimpse he had caught of the
store as he passed it, and having a recollection of
the barrels of potatoes and apples and the vari-
ous odds and ends, Mr. Havisham felt his doubts
arise again. In England, gentlemen's sons did
not make friends of grocerymen, and it seemed to
him a rather singular proceeding. It would be
very awkward if the child had bad manners and a
disposition to like low company. One of the bit-
terest humiliations of the old Earl's life had been
that his two elder sons had been fond of low com-
pany. Could it be, he thought, that this boy
shared their bad qualities instead of his father's
good qualities ?
He was thinking uneasily about this as he talked
to Mrs. Errol until the child came into the room.
When the door opened, he actually hesitated a
moment before looking at Cedric. It would, per-
haps, have seemed very queer to a great many
people who knew him, if they could have known
the curious sensations that passed through Mr.
Havisham when he looked down at the boy, who
ran into his mother's arms. He experienced a re-
vulsion of feeling which was quite exciting. He
recognized in an instant that here was one of the
finest and handsomest little fellows he had ever
seen. His beauty was something unusual. He
had a strong, lithe, graceful little body and a
manly little face; he held his childish head up,
and carried himself with quite a brave little air;
he was so like his father that it was really startling ;
he had his father's golden hair and his mother's
brown eyes, but there was nothing sorrowful or timid
in them. They were innocently fearless eyes ; he
looked as if he had never feared or doubted any-
thing in his life.


"He is the best-bred-looking and handsomest
little fellow I ever saw," was what Mr. Havisham
thought. What he said aloud was simply, And
so this is little Lord Fauntleroy."
And, after this, the more he saw of little Lord
Fauntleroy, the more of a surprise he found him.
He knew very little about children, though he had
seen plenty of them in England- fine, handsome,
rosy girls and boys, who were strictly taken care
of by their tutors and governesses, and who were
sometimes shy, and sometimes a trifle boisterous,
but never very interesting to a ceremonious, rigid
old lawyer. Perhaps his personal interest in little
Lord Fauntleroy's fortunes made him notice Ced-
die more than he had noticed other children; but,
however that was, he certainly found himself notic-
ing him a great deal.
Cedric did not know he was being observed, and
he only behaved himself in his ordinary manner.
He shook hands with Mr. Havisham in his friendly
way when they were introduced to each other, and
he answered all his questions with the unhesitating
readiness with which he answered Mr. Hobbs.
He was neither shy nor bold, and when Mr. Havi-
sham was talking to his mother, the lawyer noticed
that he listened to the conversation with as much
interest as if he had been quite grown up.
"He seems to be a very mature little fellow,"
Mr. Havisham said to the mother.
"I think he is, in some things," she answered.
He has always been very quick to learn, and he
has lived a great deal with grown-up people. He
has a funny little habit'of using long words and
expressions he has read in books, or has heard
others use, but he is very fond of childish play. I
think he is rather clever, but he is a very boyish
little boy, sometimes."
The next time Mr. Havisham met him, he saw
that this last was quite true. As his coup turned
the corner, he caught sight of a group of small
boys, who were evidently much excited. Two of
them were about to run a race, and one of them
was his young lordship, and he was shouting and
making as much noise as the noisiest of his com-
panions. He stood side by side with another boy,
one little red leg advanced a step.
One, to make ready !" yelled the starter.
"Two, to be steady. Three and away !"
Mr. Havisham found himself leaning out of the
window of his coupe with a curious feeling of inter-
est. He really never remembered having seen
anything quite like the way in which his lordship's
lordly little red legs flew up behind his knicker-
bockers and tore over the ground as he shot out in
the race at the signal word. He shut his small hands
and set his face against the wind; his bright hair
streamed out behind.


[DECEMBER,






LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


"Hooray, Ced Errol! all the boys shouted,
dancing and shrieking with excitement. Hooray,
Billy Williams Hooray, Ceddie Hooray, Billy !
Hooray 'Ray 'Ray! "
I really believe he is going to win," said Mr.
Havisham. The way in which the red legs flew and
flashed up and down, the shrieks of the boys, the
wild efforts of Billy Williams, whose brown legs
were not to be despised, as they followed closely
in the rear of the red legs, made him feel some ex-
citement. "I really- I really can't help hoping
he will win he said, with an apologetic sort of
cough.
At that moment the wildest yell of all went up
from the dancing, hopping boys. With one last
frantic leap the future Earl of Dorincourt had
reached the lamp-post ar the end of the block and
touched it, just two seconds before Billy Williams
flung himself at it, panting.
"Three cheers for Ceddie Errol!" yelled the
little boys. "Hooray for Ceddie Errol! "
Mr. Havisham drew his head in at the window
of his coupe and leaned back with a dry smile.
Bravo, Lord Fauntleroy he said.
As his carriage stopped before the door of Mrs.
Errol's house, the victor and the vanquished were
coming toward it, attended by the clamoring crew.
Cedric walked by Billy Williams and was speak-
ing to him. His elated little face was very red,
his curls clung to his hot, moist forehead, his hands
were in his pockets."
You see," he was saying, evidently with the
intention of making defeat easy for his unsuc-
cessful rival, I guess I won because my legs are
a little longer than yours. I guess that was it.
You see, I 'm three days older than you, and that
gives me a 'vantage. I 'm three days older."
And this view of the case seemed to cheer Billy
Williams so much that he began to smile on the
world again, and felt able to swagger a little, al-
most as if he had won the race instead of losing it.
Somehow, Ceddie Errol had a way of making peo-
ple feel comfortable. Even in the first flush of his
triumphs, he remembered that the person who was
beaten might not feel so gay as he did, and might
like to think that he might have been the winner
under different circumstances.
That morning Mr. Havisham had quite a long
conversation with the winner of the race -a con-
versation which made him smile his dry smile, and
rub his chin with his bony hand several times.
Mrs. Errol had been called out of the parlor,
and the lawyer and Cedric were left together. At
first Mr. Havisham wondered what he should say
to his small companion. He had an idea that
perhaps it would be best to say several things which
might prepare Cedric for meeting his grandfather,


and, perhaps, for the great change that was to
come to him. He could see that Cedric had not
the least idea of the sort of thing he was to see
when he reached England, or of the sort of home
that waited for him there. He did not even know
yet that his mother was not to live in the same
house with him. They had thought it best to let
him get over the first shock before 11.... him.
Mr. Havisham sat in an arm-chair on one side
of the open window; on the other side was another
still larger chair, and Cedric sat in that and looked
at Mr. Havisham. He sat well back in the depths
of his big seat, his curly head against the cush-
ioned back, his legs crossed, and his hands thrust
deep into his pockets, in a quite Mr. Hobbs-like
way. He had been watching Mr. Havisham very
steadily when his mamma had been in the room,
and after she was gone he still looked at him in re-
spectful -!.l,;1.r..iii : There was a short silence
after Mrs. Errol went out, and Cedric seemed to
be studying Mr. Havisham, and Mr. Havisham
was certainly studying Cedric. He could not
make up his mind as to what an elderly gentleman
should say to a little boy who won races, and wore
short knickerbockers and red stockings on legs
which were not long enough to hang over a big
chair when he sat well back in it.
But Cedric relieved him by suddenly beginning
the conversation himself.
Do you know," he said; I don't know what
an earl is?"
"Don't you?" said Mr. Havisham.
No," replied Ceddie. And I think when a
boy is going to be one, he ought to know. Don't
you ?"
Well-- yes," answered Mr. Havisham.
"Would you mind," said Ceddie : i ... .;if11 -
"would you mind 'splaining it to me?" (Some-
times when he used his long words he did not pro-
nounce them quite correctly.) "What made him
an earl ?"
"A king or queen, in the first place," said Mr.
Havisham. Generally, he is made an earl be-
cause he has done some service to his sovereign,
or some great deed."
Oh!" said Cedric; "that's like the President."
"Is it?" said Mr. Havisham. "Ils that why
your presidents are elected?"
Yes," answered Ceddie cheerfully. When a
man is very good and knows a great deal, he is
elected president. They have torch-light proces-
sions and bands, and everybody makes speeches.
I used to think I might perhaps be a president,
but I never thought of being an earl. I did n't
know about earls," he said, rather hastily, lest Mr.
Havisham might feel it impolite in him not to
have wished to be one,-"if I'd known about






LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


them, I dare say I should have thought I should
like to be one."
"It is rather different from being a president,"
said Mr. Havisham.
"Is it?" asked Cedric. How? Are there no
torch-light processions ?"
Mr. Havisham crossed his own legs and put the
tips of his fingers carefully together. He thought
perhaps the time had come to explain matters
rather more clearly.
"An earl is is a very important person," he
began.
"So is a president!" put in Ceddie. "The
torch-light processions are five miles long, and
they shoot up rockets, and the band plays Mr.
Hobbs took me to see them."
"An earl," Mr. Havisham went on, feeling
rather uncertain of his ground, is frequently of
very ancient lineage-- "
What's that? asked Ceddie.
Of very old family-extremely old."
"Ah said Cedric, thrusting his hands deeper
into his pockets. I suppose that is the way with
the apple-woman near the park. I dare say she is
of ancient lin-lenage. She is so old it would sur-
prise you how she can stand up. She's a hundred,
I should think, and yet she is out there when it
rains, even. I'm sorry for her, and so are the other
boys. Billy Williams once had nearly a dollar and
I asked him to buy five cents' worth of apples from
her every day until he had spent it all. That
made twenty days, and he grew tired of apples
after a week; but then-it was quite fortunate-a
gentleman gave me fifty cents and I bought apples
from her instead. You feel sorry for any one that's
so poor and has such ancient lin-lenage. She says
hers has gone into her bones and the rain makes it
worse."
Mr. Havisham felt rather at a loss as he looked
at his companion's innocent, serious little face.
I am afraid you did not quite understand me,"
he explained. When I said 'ancient lineage' I
did not mean old age; I meant that the name of
such a family has been known in the world a long
time; perhaps for hundreds of years persons bear-
ing that name have been known and spoken of in
the history of their country."
"Like George Washington," said Ceddie. I 've
heard of him ever since I was born, and he was
known about, long before that. Mr. Hobbs says
he will never be forgotten. That 's because of the
Declaration of Independence, you know, and the
Fourth of July. You see, he was a very brave
man. "
The first Earl of Dorincourt," said Mr. Havi-
sham solemnly, was created an earl four hundred
years ago."


"Well, well!" said Ceddie. "That was a
long time ago Did you tell Dearest that? It
would int'rust her very much. We 'll tell her
when she comes in. She always likes to hear
cur'us things. What else does an earl do besides
being created ? "
A great many of them have helped to govern
England. Some of them have been brave men
and have fought in great battles in the old days.'
I should like to do that myself," said Cedric.
" My papa was a soldier, and he was a very brave
man-as brave as George Washington. Perhaps
that was because he would have been an earl if he
had n't died. I am glad earls are brave. That's a
great 'vantage -to be abrave man. Once I used to
be rather afraid of things-in the dark, you know ;
but when I thought about thesoldiers in the Revolu-
tion and George Washington-it cured me."
There is another advantage in being an earl,
sometimes," said Mr. Havisham slowly, and he
fixed his shrewd eyes on the little boy with a rather
curious expression. "Some earls have a great
deal of money."
He was curious because he wondered if his
young friend knew what the power of money was.
"That's a good thing to have," said Ceddie
innocently. I wish I had a great deal of money."
Do you ? said Mr. Havisham. And why? "
Well," explained Cedric, there are so many
things a person can do with money. You see,
there's the apple-woman. If I were very rich I
should buy her a little tent to put her stall in, and
a little stove, and then I should give her a dollar
every morning it rained, so that she could afford to
stay at home. And then-oh! I 'd give her a
shawl. And, you see, her bones would n't feel so
badly. Her bones are not like our bones; they
hurt her when she moves. It's very painful when
your bones hurt you. If I were rich enough to
do all those i,; ... for her I guess her bones would
be all right."
"Ahem! said Mr. Havisham. "And what
else would you do if you were rich ? "
Oh I'd do a great many things. Of course
I should buy Dearest all sorts of beautiful things,
needle-books and fans and gold thimbles and
rings, and an encyclopedia, and a carriage, so that
she need n't have to wait for the street-cars. If
she liked pink silk dresses, I should buy her some,
but she likes black best. But I 'd take her to the
big stores, and tell her to look 'round and choose
for herself. And then Dick--"
"Who is Dick?" asked Mr. Havisham.
"Dick is a boot-black," said his young lordship,
quite warming up in his interest in plans so ex-
citing. He is one of the nicest boot-blacks you
ever knew. He stands at the corner of a street down


[DECEMBER,






LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


town. I've known him for years. Once when I was
very little, I was 'll-,... out with Dearest and she
bought me a beautiful ball thatbounced, and I was
carrying it and it bounced into the middle of the
street where the carriages and horses were, and I
was so disappointed, I began to cry--I was very
little. I had kilts on, and Dick was blacking a
man's shoes, and he said 'Hello 1' and he ran in


Well," said Lord Fauntleroy, settling himself
in his chair with a business air; "I 'd buy Jake
out."
And who is Jake?" Mr. Havisham asked.
'"He 's Dick's partner, and he is the worst part-
ner a fellow could have! Dick says so. He is n't
a credit to the business, and he is n't square. He
cheats, and that makes Dick mad. It would make


/-.b ". -
"'MR. HOBBS,' SAID CEDRIC, 'AN EARL IS SITTING ON THIS BOX NOW'

between the horses and caught the ball for me and you mad, you know, if you were blacking boots as
wiped it off with his coat and gave it to me and hard as you could, and being square all the time,
said: It's all right, young un.' So Dearest ad- and your partner was n't square at all. People like
mired him very much, and so did I, and ever since Dick, but they don't like Jake, and so sometimes
then, when we go down town, we talk to him. He they don't come twice. So if I were rich,I 'dbuy Jake
says 'Hello !' and Isay Hello !' and then we out and get Dick a boss sign he says a boss'
talk a little, and he tells me how trade is. It's sign goes a long way; and I 'd get him some new
been bad lately." clothes and new brushes, and start him out fair.
"And what would you like to do for him?" He says all he wants is to start out fair."
inquired the lawyer, rubbing his chin and smiling There could have been nothing more confiding
a queer smile, and innocent than the way in which his small






LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


lordship told his little story, quoting his friend
Dick's bits of slang in the most candid good faith.
He seemed to feel not a shade of a doubt that his
elderly companion would be just as interested as
he was himself. And in truth Mr. Havisham was
beginning to be greatly interested; but perhaps not
quite so much in Dick and the apple-woman as in
this kind little lordling, whose curly head was so
busy, under its yellow thatch, with good-natured
plans for his friends, and who seemed somehow to
have forgotten himself altogether.
"Is there anything-- he began. "What
would you get for yourself, if you were rich ?"
"Lots of things!" answered Lord Fauntleroy
briskly; "but first I 'd give Mary some money
for Bridget--that's her sister, with twelve chil-
dren, and a husband out of work. She comes here
and cries, and Dearest gives her things in a basket,
and then she cries again, and says: 'Blessin's be
on yez, for a beautiful lady.' And I think Mr.
Hobbs would like a gold watch and chain to
remember me by, and a meerschaum pipe. And
then I 'd like to get up a company."
A company exclaimed Mr. Havisham.
Like a Republican rally," explained Cedric,
becoming quite excited. "I 'd have torches and
uniforms and things for all the boys and myself,
too. And we 'd march, you know, and drill.
That 's what I should like for myself, if I were
rich."
The door opened and Mrs. Errol came in.
I am sorry to have been obliged to leave you
so long," she said to Mr. Havisham; "but a poor
woman, who is in great trouble, came to see me."
"This young gentleman," said Mr. Havisham,
"has been telling me about some of his friends,
and what he would do for them if he were rich."
"Bridget is one of his friends," said Mrs. Errol;
and it is Bridget to whom I have been talking in
the kitchen. She is in great trouble now because
her husband has rheumatic fever."
Cedric slipped down out of his big chair.
I think I 'll go and see her," he said, and ask
her how he is. He 's a nice man when he is
well. I 'm obliged to him because he once made
me a sword out of wood. He 's a very talented
man. "
He ran out of the room, and Mr. Havisham rose
from his chair. He seemed to have something in
his mind which he wished to speak of. He hesi-
tated a moment, and then said, looking down at
Mrs. Errol:
Before I left Dorincourt Castle, I had an inter-
view with the Earl, in which he gave me some
instructions. He is desirous that his grandson
should look forward with some pleasure to his
future life in England, and also to his acquaintance


with himself. He said that I must let his lordship
know that the change in his life would bring him
money and the pleasures children enjoy; if he
expressed any wishes I was to gratify them, and to
tell him that his ., ...3i,.- had given him what
he wished. I am aware that the Earl did not
expect anything quite like this; but if it would
give Lord Fauntleroy pleasure to assist this poor
woman, I should feel that the Earl would be dis-
pleased if he were not gratified."
For the second time, he did not repeat the Earl's
exact words. His lordship had, indeed, said:
"Make the lad understand that I can give him
anything he wants. Let him know what it is to be
the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt. Buy him
everything he takes a fancy to; let him have
money in his pockets, and tell him his grandfather
put it there."
His motives were far from being good, and if he
had been dealing with a nature less affectionate
and warm-hearted than little Lord Fauntleroy's,
great harm might have been done. And Cedric's
mother was too gentle to suspect any harm. She
thought that perhaps this meant that a lonely,
unhappy old man, whose children were dead,
wished to be kind to her little boy, and win his
love and confidence. And it pleased her very
much to think that Ceddie would be able to help
Bridget. It made her happier to know that the
very first result of the strange fortune which had
befallen her little boy was that he could do kind
things for those who needed kindness. Quite a
warm color bloomed on her pretty young face.
"Oh!" she said, "that was very kind of the
Earl; Cedric will be so glad He has always been
fond of Bridget and Michael. They are quite
deserving. I have often wished I had been able
to help them more. Michael is a hard-working
man when he is well, but he has been ill a long
time and needs expensive medicines and warm
clothing and nourishing food. He and Bridget
will not be wasteful of what is given them."
Mr. Havisham put his thin hand in his breast
pocket and drew forth a large pocket-book. There
was a queer look in his keen face. The truth was,
he was wondering what the Earl of Dorincourt
would say when he was told what was the first
wish of his grandson that had been granted. He
wondered what the cross, worldly, selfish old noble-
man would think of it.
"I do not know that you have realized," he
said, that the Earl of Dorincourt is an exceedingly
rich man. He can afford to gratify any caprice.
I think it would please him to know that Lord
Fauntleroy had been indulged in any fancy. If
you will call him back and allow me, I shall give
him five pounds for these people."


[DECEMBER,







LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


That would be twenty-five dollars exclaimed
Mrs. Errol. "It will seem like wealth to them.
I can scarcely believe that it is true."
It is quite true," said Mr. Havisham, with his
dry smile. A great change has taken place in
your son's life, a great deal of power will lie in his
hands."
Oh cried his mother. "And he is such a
little boy-a very little boy. How can I teach
him to use it well? It makes me half afraid. My
pretty little Ceddie "
The lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It
touched his worldly, hard old heart to see the ten-
der, timid look in her brown eyes.
I think, Madam," he said, "that if I may
judge from my interview with Lord Fauntleroy this
morning, the next Earl of Dorincourtwill think for
others as well as for his noble self. He is only a
child yet, but I think he may be trusted."
Then his mother went for Cedric and brought
him back into the parlor. Mr. Havisham heard
him talking before he entered the room.
It's infam-natory rheumatism," he was say-
ing, "and that 's a kind of rheumatism that's
dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being
paid, and Bridget says that makes the inf'ammation
worse. And Pat could get a place in a store if he
had some clothes."
His little face looked quite anxious when he
came in. He was very sorry for Bridget.
Dearest said you wanted me," he said to Mr.
Havisham. I've been i II.. to Bridget."
Mr. Havisham looked down at him a moment.
He felt a little awkward and undecided. As Cedric's
mother had said, he was a very little boy.
The Earl of Dorincourt -- he began, and
then he glanced involuntarily at Mrs. Errol.
Little Lord Fauntleroy's mother suddenlykneeled
down by him and put both her tender arms around
his childish body.
"Ceddie," she said, "the Earl is your grandpapa,
your own papa's father. He is very, very kind,
and he loves you and wishes you to love him, be-
cause the sons who were his little boys are dead.
He wishes you to be happy and to make other people
happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you to have
everything you would like to have. He told Mr.
Havisham so, and gave him a great deal of money
for you. You can give some to Bridget now;
enough to pay her rent and buy Michael every-
I'n-.. Is n't that fine, Ceddie? Is n't he good?"
And she kissed the child on his round cheek, where
the bright color suddenly flashed up in his excited
amazement.
He looked from his mother to Mr. Havisham.
Can I have it now? he cried. Can I give it
to her this minute? She's just going."


Mr. Havisham handed him the money. It
was in fresh, clean greenbacks and made a neat
roll.
Ceddie flew out of the room with it.
Bridget they heard him shout, as he tore
into the kitchen. Bridget, wait a minute i Here's
some money. It's for you, and you can pay the
rent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It's for you
and Michael! "
Oh, Master Ceddie cried Bridget, in an
awe-stricken voice. It 's twinty-foive dollars is
here. Where be's the misthress ?"
I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,"
Mrs Errol said.
So she, too, went out of the room and Mr.
Havisham was left alone for a while. He went to
the window and stood looking out into the street
reflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of
Dorincourt, sitting in his great, splendid, gloomy
library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded
by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any
one, because in all his long life he had never really
loved any one but himself; he had been selfish and
self-indulgent and arrogant and passionate; he had
cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his
pleasures that there had been no time for him to
think of other people ; all his wealth and power, all
the benefits from his noble name and high rank,
had seemed to him to be things only to be used to
amuse and give pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt;
and now that he was an old man, all this excitement
,,.ii ...1ir.;,n. ,i -.:nce had only brought him ill health
and !,,, ,i.;i;i and a dislike of the world, which
certainly disliked him. In spite of all his splendor,
there was never a more unpopular old nobleman
than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could
scarcely have been a more lonely one. He could
fill his castle with guests if he chose. He could
give great dinners and splendid hunting parties;
but he knew that in secret the people who would
accept his invitations were afraid of his frowning
old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had
a cruel tongue and a bitter nature, and he took
pleasure in sneering at people and making them
feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to
do so, because they were sensitive or proud or
timid.
Mr. Havisham knew his hard, fierce ways by
heart, and he was thinking of him as he looked out
of the window into the narrow, quiet street. And
there rose in his mind, in sharp contrast, the picture
of the cheery, handsome little fellow sitting in the
big chair and telling his story of his friends, Dick
and the apple-woman, in his generous, innocent,
honest way. And he thought of the immense in-
come, the beautiful, majestic estates, the wealth,
and power for good or evil, which in the course







LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.


of time would lie in the small, chubby hands hands on his knees. He was glowing with enjoy-
little Lord Fauntleroy thrust so deep into his ment of Bridget's relief and rapture.
pockets. She cried he said. She said she was cry-
It will make a great difference," he said to him- ing for joy! I never saw any one cry for joy before.
self. "It will make a great difference." My grandpapa must be a very good man. I did n't
Cedric and his mother came back soon after. know he was so good a man. It's more- more
Cedric was in high spirits. He sat down in his agreeabler to be an earl than I thought it was.
own chair, between his mother and the lawyer, I'm almost glad-I 'm almost quite glad I 'm going
and fell into one of his quaint attitudes, with his to be one."
(To be onlinued.)





THE SNOW-STORM.

BY GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD.


LIGHTLY and whitely
As wheat from the grain,
Thickly and quickly
As thoughts through the brain,
So fast and so dumb
Do the snow-flakes come;-
Swift, swift as the lays drop
From glad poet-lips,
Soft, soft as the days drop
From Time's finger-tips.
Oh, so many, so many!


Yet no sound from any.
Oh, so fast, oh, so fast!
Yet no track where they passed.
Oh, so fragile, so frail!
Yet no force can prevail
To speed them or stay them.
No prayer can out-weigh them.
They fall where they must,
Through the fathomless gray,
And bring to earth's dust
What of heaven they may.


NEW BITS OF TALK FOR YOUNG FOLKS.

BY H. H. (HELEN JACKSON.)


THE MAGIC CLOCKS.-PART II.

AFTER a long time, almost a year, the old man
really did come back. It was in the pleasant spring-
time that he had come at first, and the last snow was
just melting away when he came the second time.
The children had a big snow-man in their
yard; they made him in February, and the cold
weather had continued so steadily that he had
lasted away into April, much to the children's de-
light. He was a giant snow-man; fully six feet
high. They called him the Colossus of Rhodes,
after a picture their father had shown to them of
a great statue which stood astride a gulf of water,
hundreds and hundreds of years ago.
So splendid a snow-man had never before been
seen in the town, and the children had two months'
solid fun with him,-piecing him, putting big
elbows on him, sticking red woolen caps on his


head, tying comforters around his neck, fasten-
ing placards on his breast, such as Pity the sor-
rows of a poor blind man," I am cold," or
"Fresh from the North Pole." This last was
Helen's device. She also made a bright blue and
white flag, out of two old silk pocket-handkerchiefs,
and on the white half she worked, in big blue let-
ters, The Ice Captain." This she sewed on the
end of an old hearth-brush handle, and stuck it
into the snow-man's right hand. The brush handle
was bright red and yellow, and the effect of the
whole was very gay.
But the days of the snow-man were fast drawing
to a close. In the last week of March he began to
sink in stature. Each day he settled down more
and more, and grew shorter, and shorter, until
even Elizabeth could reach his head by standing
on tip-toe. Finally, his right arm fell off and
made a big snow pile down by his side; then a mis-


[DECE.1mER,







THE MAGI


chievous town boy stoned off his head, and the
children decided that they would finish up the job
of destroying him themselves. So that was what
they were at, the morning their old friend the
Magic-Clock man returned.
It was just as it had been the first time. They
did not hear a footstep, or a sound of any kind,
until suddenly they looked around and saw the old


C CLOCKS. 93


stern to her. She, more than any of the others,
believed that the old man was really a magician,
and that he would know all she had done during
the whole year, and how that very morning,
when her nurse hurt her head a little, combing
the tangles out of her curly hair, she had spoken
so snappishly to her that the little white clock
had rung out in as loud and disapproving a tone


man standing at the gate. He had the same big
box on his back, and the same pleasant smile on
his face, and he looked at them steadily, as before,
without speaking.
"Oh, there is the old man !" exclaimed Eliza-
beth, joyfully.
I told you he would come," said Frank, and
they all ran to the gate as fast as they could go; only
Helen lagged a little, and shyly hung her pretty
head, for fear the old man would say .... r.;..


as ever, and poor Helen had thought to her-
self: "Dear me! I shall never, never learn to
keep my temper "
But, strange to say, there was not one of the
children who received so loving and friendly a
glance from the old man as that which he gave to
Helen. He waited until she had come up before he
spoke a word; then, stretching out his hand, he laid
it on her curls, and vigorously nodding his head,
he said, smiling all the while like a sunbeam:


~ss~as~~li8Ra~RI---------ip-







THE MAGIC CLOCKS.


Tangle Locks,-magic clocks. How did they
go, little one?"
Helen could not speak; but the other three all
cried out at once :
Oh, they are lovely We thank you ever so
much."
Frank, true to his resolution, had already taken
firm hold of the old man's coat-tail and begun
with his questioning:
We want to know, sir,- He did not get any
farther with his question. Interrupting him in a
kindly but firm tone, the old man said:
"I am going to tell you all you can know about
it. The things you were going to ask me are things
you can not be told."
"How did he know what I was going to ask
him?" thought Frank. "He is a great magician,
I do believe. But I think he might tell me what
makes the clocks strike, and why they don't need
any winding up."
The old man was unstrapping his box from his
shoulders. As he set it upon the ground, the chil-
dren gathered closer around him, with eager looks.
They thought he was going to open it, and per-
haps give them some new kind of magic gift.
But he only smiled, and shook his head.
"No, no," he said, seating himself on the box,
"I have nothing for you in my box. It is full
of just the same sort of magic clocks that I gave
you. I never carry .1II1 1 i- else. My only busi-
ness is to go about the world, giving them to boys
and girls. Then, after they have had the clocks
a year, I come again to see what use they have
made of them."
Here he fixed his eyes on Helen, who grew very
red in the face, and tried to hide behind Frank.
But the old man reached out a very long arm, and,
drawing her forward, took her between his knees,
and again patted her golden curls.
"We should like to know, sir," again began
Frank, who still kept a corner of one of the old
man's coat-tails tightly grasped in his hand. We
should like to know, sir, "
He did not get any farther in his question.
ILa.. i .!'.I.;, : him in the same gentle, kindly voice,
the old man continued speaking as if he had not
.heard Frank at all.
I have not brought you any presents this year,
but I am going to tell you something which will be
better than any present in the world."
The children all crowded closer, their eyes full
of wonder and interest. But Frank did not let go
the coat-tail.
"I don't care," he was saying to himself; "he
sha'n't slip away from me this time till I find out
about the wheels."
The thing I am going to tell you now," con-


tinued the old man, is even more wonderful than
the clocks. I tell it only to such children as have
made good use of their clocks, and have tried to
obey the warnings given them. I see that you
have done so. I can tell as soon as I look at
children's faces whether they have tried or not."
At this Helen lifted up her face, encouraged;
and, looking directly into the old man's kind, gray
eyes, whispered:
I have tried very hard."
The old man nodded, and patted her curls, as
he went on:
I did not tell you, when I was here before,
anything about these clocks. Now, I shall explain
to you what makes them strike."
"Ha! thought Frank, "now we 're coming
to it. That 's something like and in his eager
delight he dropped the coat-tail and crowded up
closer in front of the old man.
There is a fairy inside of each clock," said the
old man; a fairy so small that no human eyes
can see her."
Helen caught her breath. Oh, a real live
fairy ?" she said. Will she never come out and
speak to us ?"
"The way they speak is by striking the
clocks," replied the old man. That is all they
are there for- to keep watch over all you do,
and to call out to you, by striking the clocks,
to warn you when you do wrong, and to praise
you when you do right. These fairies live in the
clocks; but they can come out of them when-
ever they like. And part of their work has to be
done outside of the clocks. Where do you think?"
Here he paused for an answer; but the children
were too excited to make any answer.
Outside the clocks ejaculated Frank.
"Yes, outside the clocks," continued the old
man. "Outside the clocks; on-your-faces !"
Here he paused and looked smilingly at the
children, almost laughing at the bewilderment he
saw in their eyes.
On- our- faces repeated Elizabeth,
1.i-. 1-i 1i rubbing her cheek with her hand as
she spoke. Oh, I guess "
Yes, you can guess, perhaps," the old man
said; but I shall tell the others, and you will see
if you guessed right. The work the fairies do on
your faces is this: They are obliged to keep a
written record there, of every time the clocks
strike."
"Every time exclaimed Elizabeth. She
thought she must have guessed wrongly. Our
faces would be all marked up then "
So they are! replied the old man, "all
marked up; and people who understand the
fairies' writing can read the records as soon as they






THE MAGIC CLOCKS.


look at you. That is the way I knew, as soon as I
looked at you, to-day, that you had been making
a good use of your clocks this whole year- that
you had been growing better and better children
all the time."
At this the tears rolled down Helen's cheek.
"Oh, no," she said; you did n't read it right
on my face ; for only this morning I was as cross
as ever to my nurse, because my hair was snarled."
"That's nothing!" spoke up Frank. "You
did read it right, sir; she 's grown to be kind and
good almost all the time. We all think so, don't
we? and he looked at the others.
"Yes, indeed," said Elizabeth; and, Yes, in-
deed echoed James.
The old man nodded. I'm never mistaken,"
he said. "There is no such thing as mistaking
that kind of writing on faces. Every time the
clock strikes for a mean act or a cross word, out
flies the fairy and draws a line about the mouth or
about the eyes that says, 'mean 'cross! or
'untrue!' just as plain as plain English. And
every time the clock strikes for a pleasant, kind,
generous, loving, true act or word, out flies the
fairy, so happy and glad, and draws the lines which
mean, 'pleasant,' 'kind,' 'generous,' 'loving,'
'true,' on the face. And these lines never die
out. It is n't like any other writing. Writing in
ink or with pencil all such writing fades; and
the paper it is written on is destroyed in a
thousand ways,- torn, burned up, lost. All such
writing comes to an end, and disappears sooner or
later. But the writing on faces never fades. It
grows clearer and clearer the longer you live; and
you can never get a new face till you die; the one
that you are born with must last you to the end
of life And if you allow your face to become
written all over with ugly lines, of dishonest, mean,
unkind, ill-natured actions, almostbefore you know
it, you will have what is called 'a bad face.' You
often hear people say of a man, 'he has a bad
face,' or 'he has a good face.' That is what the
fairies who write on faces have done, to let the
whole world know what sort of a man or woman
the person is."
Some people are born pretty, Nurse says,"
interrupted Helen, timidly; she says you can't
spoil a pretty face."
Nurse is mistaken," said the old man energet-
ically. That is a great mistake. The prettiest
face in the world can be made frightful to look at,
simply by being written full of hateful actions and


words ; and the plainest face in the world can be
made to look beautiful by being written full of
love and kindness and truth."
That's like Mamma's face," said Elizabeth.
"Yes! yes cried all the children.
Then your mamma has been all her life doing
kind tii;,_ and speaking pleasant words," said
the old man.
"That's so," said Frank.
Will being cross a few times, spoil one's face? "
asked poor Helen anxiously.
"Oh, no i dear child," the old man answered,
"luckily for everybody. If that were so, the fairies
would be discouraged with their writing, for they
hate to make bad faces. Whatever lines are in the
majority, as the days go by, will show on the faces.
If there are ten pleasant lines to one ill-natured
one, the ill-natured one will be so crossed out
that it will not show."
"Ten to one," sighed Helen; "that's a great
many."
"Pshaw! "cried Frank, "you have twenty to
one, on your face, Helen; you're pleasant twenty
times, nowadays, where you are cross once."
The old man gave a queer sort of chuckle.
"You '11 do, children," he said, rising, and put-
ting Helen down on the ground. You 'll do !
wish all my children understood it all as well as
you seem to."
But we should like to know, sir," began Frank,
catching hold of the old man's coat-tail once
more. "Before you go, we should like to know,
sir, -
He did not get any farther with his question. As
suddenly as he vanished the first time, the old man
had vanished now. Big box, straps, sunny smile, old
man,-all gone, like a puff of smoke Not a sign
of a living creature in the street; not a trace of a
cloud in the sky.
The children rubbed their eyes, and gazed up
and down, and at each other, too astonished to
speak.
Frank first found his voice.
I never saw anything like it he said. It's
too provoking. The next time he comes, I sha'n't
drop his coat-tail one single second. I 'm deter-
mined to find out about those wheels."
"I think he's told us all he means to," said
Elizabeth. I don't believe he 'll ever come back
again."
What is the old man's name?
And where are his clocks to be found ? Guess !







SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


--


-Lire-I


I I'


-4-.. -.-







WI


I', I'
'.11 *1.'
IIi


ENOUGH FOR TWO.


SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.

BY WASHINGTON GLADDEN.


ON a certain twenty-fourth day of December,
about four o'clock in the afternoon, if you had
been looking in at the front windows of the Mer-
chants' and Manufacturers' Bank, in the city of
Smokopolis, you would have seen a big book,
lying open on a desk, shut itself up with a sound-
ing smack, spring into the air, and go flying to its
place on the shelf of the vault in the rear of the
counting-room.
While you were wondering what might be the
matter with the big book, you would suddenly dis-


cover that its remarkable antics were due to the
agency of a little man whom you had hardly no-
ticed before, whose chubby hands had closed the
book, lifted it above his head, and borne it swiftly to
its resting-place. Now that the big book is out of
sight, you get a better look at the little man, as he
skips back from the vault, plucks a pen from one
ear and a pencil from the other, lays them down
upon the rack of his inkstand, and then steps
briskly across the floor again to the anteroom,
whence he brings forth a gray overcoat with fur


P'







SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


collar; into this he quickly plunges, and sets a vis-
orless sealskin cap daintily on his head. All these
movements are swift and sure, but noiseless; you
would scarcely hear his step if you were in the
counting-room; he opens the door of the ante-
room, and shuts it without any clatter; he is as
spry and as sly and as silent as a humming-bird.
Little? Well, I should say so About five feet
three in his high-heeled boots; plump figure;
ruddy face with no suspicion of beard; bright
gray eyes; curling chestnut hair; nose like a
Seckel pear, and pursy little bud of a mouth,
ready on the shortest notice to blossom into a
smile. How old? I give it up. If I should say
that he is twenty, you would believe it; and if I
should put him down at forty, you would not dis-
pute it. He is one of those plump, fresh, cheery
people who never grow old.
He has donned his overcoat, and stands pulling
on his fur gloves and looking out of the window at
the softly-falling snow before any of the clerks
have discovered his movements. Then Finch, the
paying-teller, looks up quickly and says with a
smile: Hello, Ben Off for the night?"
"Yes, and for the morrow, too," answers the
little man in a chirping tone.
Of course. A good holiday to you, old chap !
You 've earned it, if anybody has."
Thank you, sir. Your saying so will help to
make it merry."
"Good-night, Ben!"
Merry Christmas, Ben !"
Such are the hearty words that follow him as he
hurries away. It is evident that he is a favorite
among his fellows.
As he walks up the busy street, dodging the
porters rushing out of the stores with boxes and
bundles, and the shoppers hurrying home with
their hands full of parcels, and their eyes still
turning to the bright show-windows, he gets ever
and anon a bow and a friendly word from the per-
sons whom he meets- greetings which he returns
with a sprightly courtesy. Two clerical-looking
gentlemen pause and shake hands with him, the
one introducing him to the other. It is Doctor
Adams of the Third Presbyterian Church who
knows the little man, and who tells his companion,
after they have parted with him, something of his
history. Let us listen:
Benoni Benaiah Benjamin, that is his name,"
says the Doctor laughing.
My, what a name answers the other. Is
he a Hebrew, pray? "
Oh, no; he is the son of a Puritan Yankee who
settled in Western Pennsylvania years ago. He
was an only child, and his father and mother
were killed in a railway accident when he was
VOL. XIII.-7.


about twelve years old; the company gave him a
position as train newsboy and kept a kindly watch
over him; he was steady and frugal, saved his
money and took a term or two at a commercial
( !! .: ; then he took a place as bookkeeper in a
bank down street, and has now beenthere ten years.
He is a first-class bookkeeper and one of the best
known and best loved men in the city. I don't
know why he is so popular. He is very quiet, one
of the properest little men you ever saw; never
says or does an undignified thing; never takes
a prominent part in public affairs; never blows his
trumpet on the streets when he bestows his alms,
so nobody knows what charitable deeds he may do.
though there is a general impression that he is a
very generous giver. Whatever good he does, he
manages to keep well hidden. I don't think I
have another man in my church whose influence is,
on the whole, more salutary and helpful, than that
of little Ben Benjamin."
Meantime the little man, whose ears might have
burned if they had not been tingling with the keen
Christmas frost, has turned into a broad avenue,
and is hurrying homeward. The snow falls faster
and faster; the sleighing, which was somewhat
worn, will be thoroughly repaired.
Through the gate that opens before a pretty
cottage the little man passes, and lets himself in
with a latch-key, at the front door. A kindly-
faced old lady comes forward to meet him, takes
from his hands his scarf and his cap, and leads
him into the little drawing-room, where a bright
fire is glowing in the grate. Good Mrs. Snowden
has had Ben Benjamin as her sole boarder for
ten years, and the business interest of the land-
lady and the stately courtesy of the hostess are by
this time wholly swallowed up in the motherly af-
fection with which she has learned to regard him.
He has taken in her heart the place that belonged
to her own son, who died just before Ben came to
live with her. The rocking-chair that he likes is
drawn up by the fire and the evening paper lies
within reach on a stand at his elbow. But the
little man shows no interest in the news of the
day; his mind is evidently preoccupied. He sits
with his feet upon the . .. into the
blazing coals, and musing while the fire burns.
It is snowing fast, Mr. I '" the land-
lady ventures.
Very f fastfast enough to make a lovely
Christmas counterpane in an hour. An inch or
two must have fallen already."
Will you drive to-night, as usual ? "
Certainly; the ponies need the exercise, and
I don't mind the snow."
When Thomas came in, after feeding the
ponies," Mrs. Snowden continues, "he said that






SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


an expressman had just brought a barrel addressed
to you, to be left at the stable. Christmas gifts
for the ponies, I dare say."
Likely enough laughed Ben. Of course
Santa Claus would n't forget themz"
The maid now announces supper. After it is
finished, Ben dons his overcoat and his warm Arc-
tic overshoes, and is ready for his customary even-
ing drive.
Don't sit up for me," he says carelessly to
Mrs. Snowden. I shall take a long drive to-
night, and it may be late before I return."
The landlady lifts her eye-brows slightly; this
is unwonted behavior; but her confidence in her
protige allows no questioning. So Ben sallies
forth, bidding her good-night, and leaving her to
speculate on his mysterious performance.
It must, by this time, be as evident to my
readers as it was to Mrs. Snowden that there is
something unusual on the mind of our hero; and
it is impossible any longer to hide the secret which
he has so carefully concealed. The truth is that
this quiet, kindly, proper little man has determined
that to-night, for once in his life, he will go off on
a regular lark. He has been cherishing this
purpose for three or four weeks. Perhaps the first
suggestion of it came into his mind on the after-
noon when the first snow fell. He was driving
along Elm avenue in his cute little cutter, drawn
by the prancing brown ponies that are now so well
known in Smokopolis, when he heard, through
the resonant air that often accompanies a snow-
storm, a little girl standing on a corner say to her
companion: "My! would n't he make a lovely
Santa Claus "
Would n't he, though! exclaimed the other.
"He's just the right size."
And what a jolly little face, too! Only Santa
Claus has whiskers, I think."
Ben laughed softly, when he heard it, and then
kept thinking it over.
Would n't it be fun to be a veritable Santa Claus,
and go about giving gifts?-not to take anybody
into the secret, of course; to surprise everybody with
presents that nobody could account for; or, per-
haps, to let them have a glimpse of the messenger,
hurriedly depositing his favors and swiftly departing,
unheralded and unexplained. The more he thought
of it, the more he was fascinated by the notion.
But it would not do to attempt it here in Smok-
opolis; he would almost certainly be discovered.
It could only be done in some secluded country
place where there were no throngs and no gas-lamps
on the streets. Springdale--that was the very
place It was a village thirteen miles north of the
city; one long street running east and west, crossed
at its western extremity by the Gridiron Railway,


and lying sheltered and secure from the noises of the
world in a lovely valley, the abode of peace. The
houses on either side the long street were well sep-
arated; and there was not enough movement on
the street to interfere with such a shadowy visita-
tion as Ben was contemplating. So the plan had
gradually shaped itself in his mind.
He would collect, one by one, a large number
of gifts, of all sorts, suitable for old and young; on
Christmas eve, after dark, he would steal away to
Springdale, watch his chances, and make his dis-
tribution in ways that might then be opened to
him. The barrel which had been delivered, that
afternoon, at the stable, contained the store which
was thus to be dispensed. He had purchased these
gifts in many places; and had kept them in a
private closet of his own in the basement of the
bank building; the expressman had brought the
barrel to the stable by his order. This is the secret
that is hidden in the breast of Benoni Benaiah
Benjamin, as he bids Mrs. Snowden good-night,
and trots briskly down the garden-walk in the di-
rection of the stable where the brown ponies,
Dunder and Blixen, who know their master's step,
are whinnying to give him greeting. These
ponies are almost the only luxury little Ben allows
himself; they have been in his possession now for
four years; and every day, after banking hours,
Ben is whirling along some country road behind
them, filling his lungs with the sweet air of the
hills and his heart with the pure delight of motion.
Ben opens the stable door and is greeted by an
audible horse-giggle from the ponies, as they take
from his fingers the accustomed lump of sugar with
great gusto, and rub their brown cheeks against
his red cheeks in a very loving fashion.
Ben now lights his lantern, casts off his over-
coat, seizes a hatchet and quickly unheads the
mysterious barrel; then he transfers its contents to
his sleigh, carefully placing them so that he may
easily lay his hands on them,- dolls in one pile,
games in another, books by themselves, toys for the
little folk in a separate heap; two or three warm
little shawls for the shoulders of old ladies (shawls
such as Ben had given to his landlady last winter
and found her often rejoicing in), and a variety of
miscellaneous articles, of which he hopes to make
some fitting disposal. From the bottom of the
barrel he pulls out a white cap, made of the fur of
the Arctic fox, and a flowing white wig and beard.
Arrayed in these disguises, he glances at his face
as revealed in the bit of looking-glass that Thomas
keeps for his stable toilet, and breaks into a glee-
ful laugh. Suddenly he checks himself, covers
his mouth with his hands, and goes dancing
across the stable floor. Such a jolly little Santa
Claus as he is, with his keen eyes, his little dump-


[DECEMBER,







SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


ling of a nose, and his red cheeks blooming out of
this shock of white hair! His fur coat will com-
plete the costume.
Hey, Dunder Ho, Blixen he softly cries,
as he confronts the ponies. Did you ever see
Santa Claus ? "
The ponies answer with a snort, starting back
in their stalls, but Ben's voice re-assures them.
Quickly now he flings on the harness, from which
he removes the bells; and, tucking his gray fur
lap-robe carefully around his treasures, he puts his
lighted lantern between his feet, underneath the
robe, and drives away. Out through the alley,
across the street, and down another unfrequented
lane he slips swiftly along, and soon is beyond the
street-lamps, out in the open country. Dunder
and Blixen are in their gayest mood; they fill
their nostrils with the winter wind, and spin away
right merrily.
It is now about seven o'clock, and there are
thirteen miles to cover; but Ben does not wish to
reach Springdale too early; the ponies will easily
make it by half-past eight. Dearborn Woods, a
stretch of forest three miles long, lies just ahead
of him; and Dunder and Blixen plunge into its
somber arches at a brisk pace. It is a familiar road
to them, and they are wont to quicken their gait
when they enter its shadows. Now the long-pent-
up mirth of the little man can safely effervesce,
and his cheery laugh rings through the woods in
clear, melodious laughter.
Oho ho ho I he cries; "is n't this a jolly
lark, indeed? Who would ever have suspected
you, Benoni Benjamin, of cutting this kind of a
caper? What would Doctor Adams and the
church folk say if they caught you in this ridic-
ulous rig? But they wont catch you, eh? No;
they wont. Ho! ho! ho! The Doctor said one
day, in the Bible class, that Ben in Hebrew words
means son of something or other, Benoni Benaiah
Benjamin, what are you the son of, to-night ? I
have it. The College boys sing it:

'I 'm the son of a son of a
Son of a son of a
Son of a gambolier.'

That 's what I am ? Hey! Oho! ho!"
The little man trolls this merry stave it hap-
pens to be all he knows of the song-over and
over again, and laughs and shouts till Dunder
and Blixen catch the infection, and, shaking their
heads and snorting vociferously, they break into a
gallop.-If there had been any elves or goblins in
Dearborn Woods that night, they would surely
have come forth from their hiding-places at the
sound of Ben Benjamin's laughter; but neither
they nor any of human kind responded to his mer-


riment, and when he emerged from the woods
and the lights of the farm-houses began to re-ap-
pear by the roadside, his jubilation was subdued
to a merry little laugh, and the ponies sped over
the snow with scarcely a sound.-
The soft falling snow slowly increases in depth
as they go northward, and the driver compels his
eager coursers to take a more leisurely pace. At
this rate, six or eight inches of snow will be added
during the night to the well-worn sleighing -
more than enough for Christmas uses. Thus far,
Ben has neither met nor overtaken a single way-
farer; but, as he reaches the top of a long hill, he
sees a light approaching from the direction of
Springdale. It is Doctor Horton, the physician
of that village, going out on some professional er-
rand and carrying his lantern in his buggy.
Here's a go says Ben to himself, "How
shall we dodge that lantern ? It 's some old covey
that will want to talk, I '11 venture. Look alive
there, Blixen; you and Dunder must get me out
of this."
The light draws near, and as the horses meet,
the Doctor turns the light of the lantern full upon
Ben's face. His own eyes are as big as dollars.
Je-ru-sha! he exclaims (it is the only ex-
pression of the sort he allows himself), What's
this anyhow ?"
The passage is somewhat narrow, and Ben is
giving strict attention to his ponies. His only an-
swer is a little gurgling laugh.
"Who are you? What's your name? Where
on earth did you come from ? cries Doctor Hor-
ton hurriedly, his voice quivering a little.
Oho ho I ho i laughed Ben, with a tone as
musical and as gay as the horns of Elfland.
"Good-natured laugh! says the Doctor;
"nothing impish in that, I '11 guarantee."
In a moment, the travelers are well past each
other, and Ben's ponies are trotting dcwn the
hill.
"I say! cries the Doctor, turning on his seat
and holding up his lantern.
Say on cries Ben hilariously.
"I 've a mind to follow," says the Doctor
aloud, turning his horse's head. But Ben's little
ponies spring into their best gait, showing the
Doctor at once how vain it would be for him with
his aged steed, to undertake the pursuit. Down
the hill they go at a tearing pace, while the voice
of Ben is borne back on the wings of the wind:
"I 'm the son of a son of a
Son of a son of a
Son of a gambolier."

"Well," ejaculated the Doctor, drawing a long
breath, "you are about the spryest little spook






SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


I have met in my travels. None of the Smokop-
olis boys are likely to be off on this lonely road at
this time of night, and you don't belong in Spring-
dale, that I know. You're a conundrum, and I
give you up. But I don't believe that you are
bent on mischief. Too gay a laugh, and too
merry an eye for that." And turning his horse's
head southward, the Doctor jogs on.
After this Ben meets no travelers until he turns
the corner, near the blacksmith shop, at the
eastern extremity of Springdale street. Here a
belated farmer, upon an empty wood-rack, scans
the small establishment inquisitively, but it is
dark, and Ben has flung the corner of his lap-robe
over his head, so that the gaze of the curious rustic
is scantily rewarded. Now he is driving down the
village street, and the shafts of light are shot
athwart the way, through the falling snow, from
the windows of the houses on either side. In default
of street lamps, all the villagers open their shutters
and draw their curtains, in the winter evenings,
that the light of the fireside may guide and cheer
the traveler.
It is now nine o'clock, for the deepening snow
has somewhat retarded our amateur Santa Claus.
But it is a very good time for him to make a
reconnaissance of the village. Through these
open windows he can gain many hints as to the
best disposition of his bounty. He will drive
carefully and slowly down on one side of the
wide street and back on the other, keeping
his eyes open and noting the houses; then
he will go round again, a little later, and make
his distribution.
Steady, Dunder Slowly, Blixen he says
softly: "let's look a minute!" They are stopping
before a low, broad cottage, with sloping roof; a
white-haired woman is sitting by the evening lamp.
That gray shoulder-shawl will fit you beautifully "
says Ben. A little girl about eight years old is
sitting by the side of the old lady- grandmother
and granddaughter beyond a doubt: the maiden
is working away for dear life on some bit of wors-
ted, and glancing stealthily over her shoulder, now
and then, at her father who sits reading on the
other side of the table. "Good! chuckles Ben,
who takes in the situation, at a glance; you shall
have one of the work-boxes, little Busy-fingers "
So while the ponies stand, he writes by the
light of his lantern, under the lap-robe, on two
cards, For the old Lady," and, "For the fair-
haired Girl,"--pins the one on the shawl, and
shuts the other into the work-box; makes a bundle
of them, and lays them together in a corner of the
sleigh. So he goes from house to house, picking
out the presents, slipping them into big paper bags
that he has provided; one bag for each house,


and piling the bags in regular order in his sleigh.
Some of the houses refuse to give him any clew to
the age and quality of their occupants; but before
he has made the circuit of the street he has found
places for all his small wares, and he feels well as-
sured that the greater number of them will be fit-
tingly bestowed. A good half-hour has been taken
in this reconnaissance; when it is finished he
scuds back toward the eastern end of the street to be-
gin the distribution. Very few pedestrians have ap-
peared on the sidewalks, and these he has managed
to dodge by skillfully tarrying in the dark places
between the houses until they were past. But now,
a boy of ten, carrying a bundle, and whistling
blithely, plunges out from the walk and cries:
Let me ride? "
Ben is too good-natured to refuse, and the boy
fastens himself to the side of the sleigh, clinging
to his bundle.
Slick little team you have there," he says.
"Well, I reckon !" answers Ben in his tuneful
falsetto.
Can they go ? asks the boy.
Yes,,pretty well for little fellows."
Ben wishes to answer no more questions, so he
quickly reverses the order of the colloquy and
becomes inquisitor himself.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Jack Kilbourne."
"Any relation to Jack the Giant-Killer?"
"Oh, yes; I 'm his great-grandfather's second
cousin," answers Jack, promptly.
"Oho! ho!" laughs Ben. "You're an old
one, you are! Any younger ones at your
house ?"
Yes, sir / We 've a new boy baby there not four
weeks old. And then there 's Sis; she 's been up
to Grandma's now for a month, and she 's coming'
down to-night on the 'commodation. There 's
the whistle, now "
Is she coming alone ?"
Yes; Uncle Tom 's put her on the train, and
Papa will meet her at the depot."
"What 's her name?"
"Lil."
"How old is she ?"
"'Bout five or six, I guess."
"Where do you live? "
"Right up there; big white house; left hand
side."
All the while, Jack's eyes have been on the
ponies; he has not once raised them to the driver's
face, and he could have seen but little if he had,
for they have been passing a space vacant of
houses, where all was dark. But now, just as they
are drawing near to Jack's home, the ruling pas-
sion of the boy seizes its last chance to utter itself:


[DECEMBER,


I00







SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


"Let 's see 'em go! "
Nothing loth, Ben whistles to the ponies, and
they spring at once into a I-i Ii,; pace Jack is
delighted, but his delight is only momentary; they
are opposite his house in ten seconds, and the
ponies are reined in to let him dismount. He
lifts his eye to the face of the charioteer just as
the light from the window strikes it, and the look
of amazement that overspreads his countenance
tickles Ben to the very end of his toes.
"Oho! ho! ho! laughs the little man; while
the boy suddenly relaxes his hold upon the sleigh
and tumbles backward into the snow. Quick as a


S-s-a-anta Claus "
"Santa Claus? Where was he? How do you
know?" asks the mother, her anxious look relax-
ing into an expression of curiosity and amusement.
Right out here in the street. I rode up with
him from down there by 7 i. Townsend's house."
Rode with him? "
Y-y-es 'm I caught on his sleigh an' rode
with him. He had the cutest little ponies "
What did he say to you? queries Mrs. Kil-
bourne, beginning to laugh.
D-don't know what he did say," stammers
Jack; it scared everything out o' my head when


7 r-.-


EL&


-- -i
S -_ - ----.. .- f -







r.-, ,


"'OHO! HOI! HO!' LAUGHS THE LITTLE MAN, AS THE BOY TUMBLES BACKWARD INTO ITHE SNOW.


flash he picks himself up and peers through the
storm at the flying apparition.
"Je-mi-ma Cripps gasps Jack; "if that is n't
the old fellow himself, then I hope I may never see
him !"
The boy rushes into the house, while the little
man speeds away to the upper end of the street to
set forth on his benignant errand.
"W-w-what d' ye think I saw just now?" cries
Jack, bursting into his mother's room, his teeth
fairly chattering.
Sh-h my son, you '11 wake the baby. But
what was it ? asks the pale lady hurriedly, per-
ceiving the boy's excitement.


I saw him. Never looked up at all to see who it
was till we were right opposite our house, 'n' then
the light shone right into his face. My! what
a cunning little chap. I don't believe he's more
'n that high,"- and Jack measures with his hand
a stature less than his own,- "and his face and
his eyes look as if he were about five years old, and
his hair and whiskers look as if he were about five
hundred; and he had a little fur cap and a fur
coat, I think; and he laughed,- you ought to
have heard him laugh "
What made him laugh ? "
To see how s'prised I was, I guess. He asked
me 'f I was any relation to Jack the Giant-Killer,


I .
:i~ ''
.,.. ~


I


-'..1 ...
1- r






SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


'n' I told him I was his great-grandfather, or
something. I thought he was poking fun at me,
'n' I thought I 'd give him as good as he sent.
Cracky If I 'd known who it was that I was talk-
in' to, I 'd have been a little more pertickler 'bout
what I said. He was a jolly little chap, anyhow."
0 Jack cries his mother, "your imagina-
tion must have made most of this. I can hardly
believe that you have really seen anything quite
so strange as you describe."
"Now, Mother Kilbourne replies Jack, deeply
grieved, and somewhat indignant; I guess I have
eyes and ears; and I guess I know what I see
with my eyes, and hear with my ears; and I tell
you, it is just exactly as I've told you. I never
b livedd in Santa Claus before; but when a fellow
hangs on to his sleigh and rides with him a quar-
ter of a mile or so, then he knows; and there's no
use .11:-," ."
Well, my son, it is very curious, I admit. But I
wish your father would come. He must have had
time to walk here since the train arrived. Is it
still snowing hard ?" asks the lady as she rises and
walks slowly to the window, and, shutting her face
between her hands, gazes out into the storm.
'Deed it is 1 answers Jack. Snow's most
up to my knees now. Sis will have a gay time
wading though it."
'"Your father will be obliged to carry her, I fear,"
replies Mrs. Kilbourne. I think," she adds, after
a moment, "that he must have stopped by the
way at Judge Gray's; I know that there was some
matter of important business between them. Our
little Lil will be very tired, I fear."
Jack sits looking into the glowing grate, and
asking his mother all sorts of questions about the
legend of St. Nicholas; who he was, anyhow;
if he was really a. man; and when he lived; and
how long ago; and what he did; and what about
the Bible stories that tell of spirits and angels that
appeared to men -a sharp fire of puzzling ques-
tions, which his mother answers, dubiously and
absently; for her heart is a little troubled about
the child for whose coming she waits impatiently.
Meanwhile Ben is speeding upon his errand of
good-will with many a merry experience. Halting
his ponies in front of each favored house he seizes
the parcel prepared for its inmates, runs to a lighted
window, taps on the pane, holds aloft his treasure
in full sight, makes a low bow, skips to the door
and lays it down upon the sill, and then jumps into
his cutter and is off in a twinkling. The children
run to the window half in terror, half in transport;
they gaze after the vanishing sprite, with their
hearts-in their mouths; then they go timidly to
the door and take with undissembled glee the goods
so mysteriously provided for them. As for the


older folks, they are as much puzzled as the chil-
dren; no one can find any clew to the identity of
this unearthly visitant. If Ben could have looked
into all these homes, and could have heard the
admiring outcries, and could have known how
much of surprise and curiosity and innocent mirth
and thankfulness his pranks were producing, he
would have been fully satisfied with the success of
his experiment. Finally he arrives in front of Mr.
Kilbourne's gate, for he has reserved a part of his
bounty for the children whose descriptive list Jack
has given him. There is a light tap on the win-
dow which opens upon the veranda, and Mrs. Kil-
bourne starts. There he is, in full view, bowing
low, waving his parcel in the air, then bounding
away with the spring of an antelope.
There, Mother Kilbourne! cries Jack, his
teeth chattering again; n-now what have you
to say ? "
"Blessings on us!" exclaims the pale lady;
"what does it mean? "
They reach the window, like all the rest, just in
time to see the ponies trot away, and to verify
Jack's description in every detail.
Well, I never! cries Mrs. Kilbourne. "Run
to the door, Jack, and see what he has left! "
A rubber rattle for the baby, a volume of Baby
World" for Lil, and Historic Boys" for Jack,-
these were the gifts drawn forth from the paper
bag with great delight and wonderment.
"Now you'll own up, wont you, Mother?"
demands Jack triumphantly. "I did n't imagine
it all, did I ?"
"No, Jack; you are a good reporter; your
account was very accurate."
Well, how do you explain him? "
"I can't explain him," answers the mother.
"I have n't the least idea who he is-some good
being, I 'm sure."
Right you are says Jack, in a tone the solem-
nity of which strangely contrasts with his school-
boy phraseology. "But here come Father and
Lil! "
The boy runs to admit the tardy comers, but his
father is alone. Where's Lil?" cries Jack, as he
opens the door.
Is n't she here ?" demands Mr. Kilbourne
anxiously.
"No, sir; we thought you went to the station
after her."
Mr. 1.ll1....., ic.. pushes into the room, where the
pale mother stands, trembling and anxious.
"We shall find her soon," he says. Did n't
that Johnson boy bring you my note ? "
"What note? No! Nobody brought any
note," cries Mrs. Kilbourne.
"The young rascal! I sent him with a line to


[DECEMBER,






SANTA CLAUS ON A LARK.


tell you that I could not leave my office at that
hour, and that Jack must go to the train for Lillie."
And so the poor child found no one waiting
for her there. Where can she have gone ? "
"Wait !" cries the father. I '11 telephone to
Wilkinson at the depot. That's where she is be-
yond a doubt. He has taken her into his office
to keep her tillwe arrive."


"THERE HE IS-THE SAME LITTLE MAN, AND HE T

Mr. Kilbourne rushes to the telephone.
Hello, Central! Give me the Gridiron depot.
That you, Wilkinson? Kilbourne's -.i ... Did
my little girl come down on the accommodation
train from Smokopolis? -What? Did n't what?"
Mr. Kilbourne turns away from the telephone


rather pale, with an anxious look about his eyes;
but, for his wife's sake, he says cheerfully:
"Well; Wilkinson says that he saw a little girl
step off the rear end of the train; the conductor
helped her off and told her to run into the waiting-
room; Wilkinson had some baggage to look after,
and when he was through with that, the child was
out of sight. He supposed that some one had
come for her."
"0 my poor
little lamb
cries the moth-
er, piteously.
11i-11 Im i' "Where is she?
Out in this mer-
I'. I I I
ciless storm I
-I" 1 ' W hat shall I
II W; 1 do ? "
"Don't cry,
I I ? Mother !" says
Jack, cheerily.
":, I She 's down
.i the street some-
I'i' I where; she 's
S gone into some
ii '' .' body's house."
"Theywould
have sent us
S' 1, word," says
S 'ia I ,'e Mrs. Kilbourne,
hopelessly.
SWell, we '1ll
S ': find her, any-
'1'I, II'. how," says Jack.
Mr. Kilbourne
has been think-
gtl la t .etb ing hard with
] knitted brows
Sand compressed
I lips. Now he
St i speaks: "Jack,
you stay here,
-r i--.: and take care
of your mother.
I '11 go down
street. As soon
as I get word
of her, I '11 call
to you from the
nearest tele-
OSSES LIL ABOVE HIiS HEAD! phone."

He gently leads the trembling lady to the sofa,
and turns to go.
Hark! the gate is opening! There is a quick
footstep on the porch,-on the veranda! Mr. Kil-
bourne pauses; Mrs. Kilbourne springs to her
feet. There he is--the same little man, and Lil






,HOW FISHES CLIMB HILL.


is in his arms He tosses her above his head; he
lets her gently down upon the veranda; he makes
the same low bow; he springs from the porch and
runs away.
Mr. Kilbourne rushes to the door.
Hello he cries. Who are you, my friend?
Say!- wont you let me- ? "
But the little man is in the sleigh and the ponies
are in motion. All they hear is Ben's laugh as he
drives away. Oho ho ho !"
Mr. Kilbourne picks up the little girl, who stands
half dazed upon the porch, and hurries into the
house. Her mother clasps the child in her arms
and covers her face with kisses. Poor little bairn !
Her garments are wet and her curls are matted
with snow, but her eyes are bright.
"Was n't it beautiful for Santa Claus to bring
me home ? she cries.
Yes, my darling; where did he find you?"
Oh, up here in the road. Papa was n't there
when the train stopped, an' I was in such a hurry
to go home, I started right off; an' I went along
down that way, an' then I turned into the street."
"The little midget!" exclaims Mr. Kilbourne,
"she went off up Long Lane !"
There was n't any houses," continues the little
wanderer, "so I kept going on, an' on; an' it
snowed so I could n't see; an' by and by I came
to another road,-- "
Yes, she must have turned out on the Smok-
opolis road," shouts Jack.
"An' I kept going on, an' then I was tired,
an' I sat down on a log to rest, an' I heard a
team coming,-and it was Santa Claus,-and he
turned around an' brought me home."
"How did he know where your home was?"
asked the father.
"Oh, he asked me what was my name, and I
told him it was Lillie Kilbourne, and he said:


Oh, yes, I know where you live I've been
to your house once to-night.'"
"How did you know it was Santa Claus?"
asked her mother.
Why, I saw him, did n't I? When he lifted
up the robe to tuck me in, there was a lantern be-
tween his legs,--he said it was his stove -an'
the light shined right up into his face, an' I saw
him as plain as anything. 'Sides, I asked him if
he was n't Santa Claus, an' he laughed and said,
SThat 's what some folks call me !' "
"I don't know whether he is a saint or an
angel," says Mrs. Kilbourne, solemnly; "but this
I know, my darling, he has been a messenger of
good to us."
But what did he mean when he said he had
been here before to-night ? asks Mr. Kilbourne.
Now it is Jack's turn to talk. While his
mother strips off the wet garments and puts the
little girl into her warm bed Jack rehearses to his
father, open-eyed with wonder, the tale of the even-
ing, with which we are familiar. His father listens,
questions, shakes his head, and gives it up.
Many of the gossips of Springdale wondered
that night, and the next day, and are wondering
still, over this mystery, but they are not likely
soon to unravel it, for the ponies went leis-
urely back that night to Smokopolis. It was
about one o'clock when they began munching
their oats in their comfortable stalls; the wig and
the beard that had formed so perfect a disguise
were hidden in the granary; the little man let
himself softly in at Mrs. Snowden's front door, and
went noiselessly to his room. It was a happy
heart that beat, on that early Christmas morning,
in the breast of Benoni Benaiah Benjamin; but
the secret of its happiness will never be discovered,
for his laughing lips will not open to reveal it,
even in his dreams.


HOW FISHES CLIMB HILL.

BY CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER.

MOUNT LINCOLN is one of the very highest that so firmly clasps them in the valley below.
peaks in the Green Mountain range. Its base From these weather-worn rocks, a beautiful scene
is clothed in a coat. of the. richest green; but, up stretches away; green valleys, like rivers of ver-
near the summit, the trees have .been blasted by dure, extend to the north and south, as far as the
the rigorous storms of winter; and at the very eye can reach. Away to the north lies Canada,
top. all that is left is a congregation of gigantic while the silvery thread almost at our feet is Lake
gray boulders, moss-covered and worn, lyingpiled Champlain.
one upon another, and even deserted by the soil In summer, Mount Lincoln has many visitors;


[DECEMBER,


104






HOW FISHES CLIMB HILL.


but during the winter it is clothed in a great white steady-going streams which turn great mill-
cap of snow that lasts on into the spring months. wheels, or float rafts of lumber, and seem to


The melting of this
WV .. ,. I.
vi-
m i r. 11 r

st . .


Tt '. I, I r, I I ,
1l a l. ,
fi ., l ,r i
Of 'h. .

a !.:.,, .
r(..-!: J, .
g i .: I ,.
e:: .: I ..-


- -i


I.


ia


f^I








.. V. .
',z I+.=1 1, -: .-- -.





* I r"'. , -- _-". ' '' .. -- ** ,- - '
'1 ," ::" .' *-1_11--- :*-- _----- o'- ::- :--: ._1,

1 ,* ., , ,* ,, '" - s -' -. - -. -'
,,', ' ' ,
', '. ..
I.



I I,, , II. .. .
I,' ',' .,


i ', ,' '"
. . . '.. . .r
,,, , ;
!i','.. . . .


---~---- ---- --


from the great snow-cap above. As the brooks
descend, they are joined by others, and finally,
in the valley below, they merge into solemn,


,, i iii li , *[ III I , I I 1, i i" l iii e r -
L ,r ', '. '._ "- r '. I i. ,,, !, ,r a n d
coat part company.
in fact, nature seemed to do her best to protect
the little fishes that lived in the dark deep pools and


settle down
I, i r. . rner
S. i life ;
i ... little
I ,..i lpear
I ... r ir 'liv-
.,- ..! .,ttires,
S. I . .able
,, 1 h 1 in
,'I. , ,ds .
i.. of
r ,: ..: .1 thingg
, are
I ".:.u: :,out-
I! Ii : and
...*r !..r since
I t. II.. ... one
.;-. ..1,.. lley
l I:. rII. oun-
ri '. i a
i..u '.np I
... ...I T he
1 ..,.. ... L1, ,t, if
.I 1, .1 .. in a
-ri .i Iii line,
*.ui.i have
J.,. 1, ., threee
S! as
r.--i r..,, or
L in
S hole
..- .lrse


: :


111. .~lln 1 111 1111 1.1[. II. i I I IOllrr
b
I .I






HOW FISHES CLIMB HILL.


eddies. The higher I climbed up the mountain,
the more fish I found; the stream became a suc-
cession of falls, some of which were three feet or
more in height-the brook in its track forming
steps down the mountain-and I began to wonder
how the fish came to be up there.
In one pool, out of which led a direct fall of three


TROUT TRYING TO LEAP


THROUGH THE DAM.
THROUGH THE DAM.


feet, there were numbers of the richly tinted little
creatures that, to have attained their position, must
either have swum up the falls or gone around by
land. After catching a number, I began to
frighten the others to see what they would do.
Some dashed at the little fall and disappeared,
while others darted over and swam down stream.
Still farther up I found the speckled game, until
finally, the passage became so difficult, that I was
obliged to turn back.
In the village, I chanced to mention the subject
to a friend who owned a mill on the same stream;
and he told me that the fishes' ascent was a puzzle
to him, until one day his boy called him out to the


dam, where the riddle was solved. The dam was
nearly four feet high, and to relieve the stream,
several auger-holes had been bored in it, allowing
a small stream of water to jet forcibly out and go
splashing down into the clear pool below. As my
friend approached the spot, and looked through
the bushes, several large-sized trout were seen
moving about under the mimic fall, evidently in
great excitement, and darting into it as if enjoy-
ing the splash and roar of the water.
Suddenly, one of the fish made a quick rush
that sent it up the falling stream, so that it almost
gained the top; but by an unlucky turn it was
caught and thrown back into the pool, where it
darted away, evidently much startled.
Soon another made the attempt, darting at it
like the first, and then rapidly swimming up the
fall, but only to meet the fate of its predecessor.
This was tried a number of times, until finally, a
trout larger than the others made a dash, mounted
the stream, and entered the round hole. The ob-
servers were almost ready to clap their hands, but
it was not successful yet. As the water stopped flow-
ing for a moment, they saw that though the athletic
trout had surmounted the fall, the hole was too
small for it to pass through, and there the poor fish
was lodged. The lookers-on hastened to relieve it,
and found that its side or pectoral fins were caught
in the wood, but by pushing the fish ahead, which
you may be sure they did, they liberated it, and it
darted away into the upper pond.
Here, then, was the explanation. The trout
climbed the mountain by swimming up the falls,
darting up the foaming masses, and adopting every
expedient to accomplish their journey. For these
fish deposit their eggs high up stream, so that the
young fry, when hatched, may not be disturbed by
predatory fish and other foes living in the lower
waters.
The salmon, the cousin of the trout, is famous
for its method of going up stream; it darts at falls
ten or twelve feet high, leaps into the air and
rushes up the falling water in a marvelous man-
ner. So determined are the salmon to attain the
high and safe waters, that in some localities nets
are placed beneath the falls, into which the fish
tumble in their repeated attempts to clear the
hill of water. Other than human hunters, more-
over, profit by these scrambles up-hill. Travelers
report that on the banks of the Upper St. John
River, in Canada, there was once a rock in which
a large circular well, or pot-hole, had been worn
by the action of the water. At the salmon season,
this rock proved a favorite resort for bears; and
for a good reason. Having an especial taste for
salmon, the bears would watch at the pot-hole,
and as the salmon, dashing up the fall, were


[DECEMBER,






HOW FISHES CLIMB HILL.


thrown by its force into the rocky basin, the bears
would quickly scrape them out of the pot-hole,
and the poor salmon would be eaten before they
had time to wonder at this unlooked-for reception.
The Dominion Government finally authorized a
party of hunters to destroy the pot-hole, and thus
break up the bears' fishing ground.


Some of the South American cat-fishes are also
so determined to go up stream that they adopt
quite remarkable methods. As they are incased
in a stiff armor, they can not jump, so they very
deliberatelyleave the water, and using their side fins,
which are provided with sharp spines, as feet, they
crawl around the falls and enter the water above.


1885.]


__




MY ECHO.


[DECEMBER,


11)
1' I *1
~~r1ccl Ig~s
- 'I,, ,1



It
)I I *



litlt

b&c from o Ike Lroken 41i mill,
"" ~ Tbe~re*5 slo e where ahem fe habve th~e w,&YeS Of e\
Nn! a ever so Still




1[bi tie note, now \nd ten1 Of A kl's Litle W1,
dit~e Lu of zefulJ Lee
6yon &re& col k I istwri rq



A 4id ljelaw In Ike fieldls, wben IwnLcr je
i i L1I II biyonc1 WOYre a lie bcoo bilL 1owe ricn~ h~ il




'"r' X I A.' ~ p1We>45 rnq w kere ore 6 c1"!
1: 0 UI'c.J l I tCLJi Ihe VAI gyIour
)1 VietU rn i n e ve~yS~me tone
i Oi Jl 1J~ f hBtll~~le


K I 17 ive tol Me I'll-'e~ck a More senISIhIe J5Le,
Fln b e tex$1I' JI Axout it. ly Ieson anct rule;
Ic vW cavan e+&inec1 itb,,4,somc Ibide
I. at rn y v& n te iiou.5RA ) zcho l rate
WouIId ste ICP h ear of :\tschooft
~: " ~ ~ la leeheve tie vol,~ ee o~nf c~olJe
would r fllcfl blieve It& VOICEOfA cbjl




w1on m never m rnee,-bom I never' ow

1rou;it iie of I bl le eWoolL n,1 j' WlE





188&i MY ECHO. 109



I,'LI
,1; .~! mocks me in ,rl Lr, I,.


I AIII
II -


I -

i I: -. --- p-' 1 / 1 '

jI~I, Ii J IL o III Ii~ie dredM s artru
A lik I I "A iied
> A2 K shioneJ lbe pc~e ~1lft myI~cho I~b0~ 1
1- 7t e, JIA'/e borrowe Ahl kfh of'e { ew
V'r 1T.5 c.ckzifie H e fnk c e 1 -rose; l6ce
A;1: IL IL, ,riA-~nc ill "be foi- its 4ir 1 i
o it orm7 fju ll0i; os ana
C1in~o LJ' e 5fy~iid ee

lip

leIe O.Ve '-a Ma aricie a wNord mv p$
I IIJ %%1.,-11t 6is to live hiI decht e it L
lert -1 fl CIE11.1 CW1 ssTwculd [le Yere of Z %'
___F -yrny &wor3i
Inc




K 10 U- ii
um
- k.;*,I






SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.


SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.

BY ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.


RUGBY SCHOOL IN SUMMER.


I THINK every one who reads and loves Mr.
Thomas Hughes' celebrated story of Tom Brown's
School Days at Rugby ought to know at least the
name of Laurence Sheriff. If it had not been
for Laurence Sheriff, that book probably would
never have been written. He was not a very great
or famous man. He was a London grocer. But
before he died, and just about the time when
Shakespeare as a little boy was toddling through
Stratford streets, Laurence Sheriff made a will, in
which he gave a certain sum of money and part of
his lands, that a school might be built in his native
town of Rugby. It was to be a free school, he said,
only for the children living in that part of the
country, and it was to be ruled by an honest,
discreete, and learned man."
And so Rugby School was founded. But for a
long time the school was so badly managed and the
number of scholars so small that no one could have
imagined how great it was one day to become.
After awhile, however, matters began to improve.


Some of the Sheriff property in London became
very valuable, and as soon as there was enough
money to engage more masters, more boys came
to be taught. But now the same thing happened
here that has occurred in nearly all the great pub-
lic schools of England: sons of parents who were
rich enough to pay for their education, were sent
to Rugby, and before long they outnumbered the
free scholars for whom the school was really found-
ed. It was just about a hundred years ago that
Rugby affairs were so much bettered. At that time,
boys began to come to the school, not only from
the little village that bore the same name, and from
the other towns and villages of Warwickshire, but
from all parts of England, so that when Doctor
Arnold was made Head-master, Rugby School was
quite a large institution.
Who does not know of Doctor Arnold, "the
strong, true man, and wise one too," of Tom
Brown's wonderful story? He was really and
indeed as "honest, discreete and learned" a


IIO


[DECEMBER,







SCIHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY


school-master as Laurence Sheriffcould have wished
to see, and his life and work were among the chief
influences that have made Rugby what it now is.
Perhaps some of you, when reading about them
have fancied that Tom Brown's adventures at
Rugby were as unreal as those of Alice in Won-
derland or of Puss in the Country of the Mar-
quis of Carabas. But if you were to go to Rugby
you would find, not only the same old battlemnented
towers, the same little studies, and the same tall
elm-trees shading the play-grounds, but almost all
the same old customs, during play and school-
hours, of which Mr. Hughes writes. As in his
day, the boys live in eight large houses," fifty or
sixty boarding in each, and each one being, as I
suppose you know without my telling you, The
best 'house' in the school, out-and-out There are
plenty of Rugby boys who think now just as old
Brooke thought in his day. It is no wonder this
feeling is so strong. The boys who live in the same
"house" have their games together, and always
meet one another during the most sociable hours
of the day; that is to say, when they are gathered
around the breakfast and dinner table, or when
they have a little free time at their disposal after
"lock-up."
Even without seeing them, you must already
feel at home in those cosy little dens, politely called
" studies "; and Mr. Hughes' book has made you
equally familiar with the dormitories, with their
rows of wash-stands and beds, where the boys
sleep at night. At half-past six in the morning,
those bedrooms are lively enough, and sleepy
little boys pull on their clothes, and unwilling fags *
hold themselves ready to run on the messages of
that great man, the sixth-form boy.
After this comes chapel at seven, followed fif-
teen minutes later by first lesson, and then by
breakfast at a quarter-past eight. Second and
third lessons are held between a quarter after nine
and half-past one, when the great bell begins to
toll for dinner. There are two more lessons after
dinner; and in the evening, when tea is over,
the boys prepare their lessons, the younger pupils
having tutors four evenings in the week, but the
elder scholars always studying by themselves in
their rooms.
On the afternoons of Tuesday, Thursday, and
Saturday, there are no lessons. Foot-ball or cricket
or a long run across country takes their place.
There is another half-holiday on every third Mon-
day. No one knows exactly why this should be, but
it is a very old custom, and one with which the
boys, at all events, have never found fault. It is
called "middle week." Work, to which it has


pleased both boys and masters to give the name
of pleasure, is really harder o,. i.1 fi...ii i. :. during
the Christmas and spring terms than at any other
time. For at once, after calling-over," or C.
0. in the school slang, all, except those who
are declared by physicians to be too delicate, must
join in the game of foot-ball or else run with the
hares and hounds. It is as much their duty to do
so as it is for them to go to their classes.
Foot-ball is the great Rugby game, and is played
principally during the Christmas term. "A
Rugby boy," says a late head of the school-
house, looks forward to it in the summer and
regrets it in the spring. He honors good foot-ball
players and despises poor players. He will talk
foot-ball in season and out of season." Rugby foot-
ball is quite different from the Eton and Harrow
game. It is much rougher, though Rugbeians now
sigh over it, and declare that it is not played half so
viciously as it used to be! It is true that it has
been shorn of some of its terrors since the days of
the mighty contests between the Upper Bench, or
first twelve of the sixth form, and the rest of the


w- .
.- .


-t .: --..


'- ,-





i- i' '
~^ *^ t .Q--l ". -,







.'
. -. : -







THE GATEWAY AT RUGBY.

school, when the game became a battle, and the
head-master had to interfere and stop the match,
because it was so little like play. That was
in the brave days of old. Those old ways have
been changed. Not very long ago rules were
made declaring that, Though it is lawful to


*"Fagging" is a special feature of English school-life. The "fag" is a boy in one of the lower classes of the school, who does "menial
service for another boy in one of the higher classes, or "forms," as they are called.


85ss.]


III






SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.


.--; ',- -,I ,;, ,*rln'Tr ;1 r Now, though I have
;" told you that the Rugby
4'. I L.... V- 4 game is different from
i:-.'- the foot-ball usually
-, n. played, I shall not at-
0,' r, _- tempt to describe that
T difference. It would be
". more thanuseless, when
Tom Brown, who knew
S. the game so well, has
Already given his enthu-
i i. "' all siastic and glowing ac-
"v count of a great school-
,ld an house match. He has
r made Rugby classic
ground in the annals of
- foot-ball. And still to
S- be seen there are the
"beautifulline of elms,"
and the island in the
farthest corner," and the
A RUGBY BOY S STUDY." gigantic gallows,"
hold any player in a maul, this holding does not and the three trees which are such a tremendous
include attempts to throttle or strangle, which are place when the ball hangs there," as East said to
totally opposed to all the principles of the game." his new friend Tom. You remember, too, how,
And again:
"No one wear-
ing projecting
nails or iron
plates on the 1.7
soles or heels I.
of his boots or
shoes shall be
allowed to :l -
play." This _I f_ J
givesapleasant Iq "

game once was.
The very terms '' ....
"mauling "and
scrimmage,"
stillin use, show
what the game
now is in its
milder form. -
Youremember, ... '- _
I do not doubt,
East's proud I
description: '.
"Quite anoth-
er thing from I
your private- L
school game. -
Why, there 's
been two collar- THE QUADRANGLE AND THE CLOISTERS.
bones broken this half and a dozen fellows lamed; after dinner on every half-holiday, the boys in
and last year a fellow had his leg broken their white trousers come trooping out to the


[DECEMBER,






SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGIUY.


play-ground for "punt-about," or practice-kick-
ing; how, after "calling-over," at three o'clock,
there is heard the cry To the goals and how,
the next minute, all fall to with good-will. "And
then follows rush upon rush and scrimmage upon
scrimmage, the ball now driven through into the
school-house quarters,
and now into the school-
goal." And any boy, .' .'
who, after reading all.
that eloquent descrip- ''i". "i'
tion, can not understand
what the game is like,
will not be helped by
any words of mine. The
only thing for him to do
is, to go to Rugby on a
Saturday afternoon and
see a match for himself.
The principal matches
of the year are, those
between the sixth form
and the whole school,
and that between the
"Old Rugs" and the
"Present,"- when old
Rugbeians, some gray-
haired men, go to Rugby
to meet their young suc-
cessors in the game they
have not ceased to love. .
The next most impor-
tant amusement-or
shall I say work?--is 1
hare-and-hounds. Every 'f ,--l -
boy is obliged to go on
these runs just as he is .
obliged to play foot-ball,
unless, of course, his
physician has forbidden
him to take this exer-,'.
cise. There are what _.Iil
are called house runs
and Big Side" runs, or
those in which the whole school is represented.
In the former, the smaller boys are helped by
the older, so that they have an easy enough time ;
but on the latter, every man for himself" is the
rule of the day. The ambitious little fellows who
on these occasions think they can keep up with the
older and bigger runners, are almost certain to
share the fate of Tom Brown and East and the Tad-
pole. And Tom's experience is, I think, that of
every Rugbeian. The runs are necessarily made
every year over the same ground, and in whichever
direction the boys go, they must cross plowed fields
or green meadows, with sheep scattering to every


side; they must leap over hedges and brooks, mount
little hills and jump ditches. And fortunate they
are indeed, if the sun shines and the grass is dry
and the roads hard; for, in rainy England, in the
winter and the early spring, the chances are that
rain !.it i'..; i add to the trials of a run. These are


A RUGBY CLASS-ROOM.


well described in the following lines, a few of many
written about the sport:


" Jumping ditches,
Scrambling hedges,
Crossing over
Swampy sedges;
Over meadow,
Swamp or fallow,
Sometimes in the
Mud we wallow;


Noow on road,
Now on grass,
Through a spinney *
Then we pass,
First a farm,
Then a mill,
Now go toiling
Up a hill."


It is hard work, of course. Tiresome as the
runs still are, the boys find real pleasure and
satisfaction in them. There is, for example, all
the pride of coming in first, of gaining a reputa-


*A small thicket, or grove, with undergrowth. (See page 115.)


VOL. XIII.-8.


''
I
r:,






SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.


tion as a runner, or of being appointed the holder
of the bags." These are the bags in which the
"hares" carry their paper, or "scent," and are
looked upon as symbols of authority, so you can
understand what an important person the holder
of Big Side bags must be.
The great run of the year is the school steeple-
chase. Do you wish to know what it is like? To


In the summer term, foot-balls are put away, and
school "bags" and "Big Side bags" also dis-
appear. The game now is cricket. But Rugbeians
have never been so famous at cricket as the boys
of Eton or of Harrow. They have their good players
and can boast of many great, and, of course, "un-
equaled" matches, another fact which you know
from your "Tom Brown." But Rugby boys do


"THE GAME IN SUMMER IS CRICKET."


me it always suggests the famous race around
Barnum's circus ring, which comes off at the end
of the performance, when hurdles to be jumped
and bags to be crept through and high fences to
be climbed are put in the way of the runners. In
the steeple-chase at Rugby, the course lies over the
deepest places in brooks and the roughest bits in
hedges, and he who wins the race must be not only
a good jumper, but must have great powers of
endurance. He must not mind soaked clothes and
scratched legs, and he must be able to put up with
great cold. For as the race is usually run in
March, not even the exercise can take away the
chill of a thorough ducking in the brook.


not take as much interest in cricket as in foot-
ball. Only those need play who like it, so that
the number of cricketers is not always very
large, as there are many other ways of finding
amusement during the summer term. Racquet
and fives-courts have their attractions. And then
there are "botanical" and geological," and "en-
tomological and archaeological" societies, the
members of which make them an excuse for lovely
long rambles, -u'poosed to be in pursuit of l .. i:
or butterflies,ir fossils, or old churches. Then
there are bicycles to be ridden, or walks to be
taken through beautiful country, and between
sweet hedge-rows, with perhaps the spires of Cov-


114


[DECEMBER,







SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.


entry or the towers of Warwick Castle rising in
the distance; there are strolls by the peonied
and lilied brim" of the Avon, Shakespeare's
river; and there is excellent swimming in the fine
new bath in school close, or else in a shady se-
cluded pool of the little river, where, however,
there is always danger of its being interrupted by
the present "Velveteens"- (you remember how
the old one caught Tom Brown at his swimming).--
And there, too, is Rugby town itself to be ex-
plored, though this last amusement, I must add,
is not very exciting. A little stir and bustle there
is in it once in a while, however, for it holds no
less than fourteen cattle fairs during the year, and
any young Rugbeian who has a taste for live stock
has a good chance to develop it. Besides these
pleasures, there are the Library and the Museum,
the Gymnasium and the Workshops to be visited.
The only limit to the independence of summer
half-holidays is the calling-over at five.
Do you remember how East, the old boy of six
months' standing, made Tom Brown buy a new
hat as soon as he arrived at Rugby, so the boys
would not make fun of him ? Well, Rugbeians


scarlet coats. But now they are only required to
appear in dark suits of clothes, tall hats on dress
occasions-for all English boys begin to wear tall
hats as soon as they leave off skirts -and black
and white straw hats at other times. For a boy's
first three terms, the ribbon around this hat
must be black; after that it can be of whatever
color the wearer prefers. These little details, I can
assure you, are quite as important in the eyes of Rug-
beians as the division of the school into forms." It
is the same with the house colors for foot-ball. A
boy would think it as great an offense to wear the
colors of any other house than his own as to take
his place in a form to which he did not belong.
Another very important custom in which new-
comers have to be instructed is that of fagging.
They are purposely allowed a fortnight's grace that
they may carefully study the duties exacted of them.
It is with fagging as with foot-ball and hare-
and-hounds. Its greatest days are past. Think
of a boy having to warm three or four beds
on a cold night by lying in them until the heat of
his body had destroyed their chill, and then hav-
ing to rise at four o'clock in the morning to run


A SPINNEY," NEAR RUGBY.


are just as particular now. They, aeem to expect
new-comers to have learned beforehand all about
the Rugby customs in matters of dress. Once
the boys wore little cocked hats and queues, to
which those who belonged to the nobility added


two miles to the Avon to attend to the fishing-lines
of the sixth-form boys, and then to be back in time
for first lesson Fancy his being obliged to form
one of a team of four or twelve in harness, to be raced
around the school-yard, or close," by the prapos-






116


SCHOOL-LIFE AT RUGBY.


[DECEMBER,


boys must run, the last to arrive having to do the
[ work. It is but for a short time, fortunately, that fag-
4 going is really a serious and perhaps tiresome duty.
For the rule is that during a boy's first term, he must
-- run at the first call; during his second, he need
only answer the second, and so on; so that at
the end of his second school year he has compara-
SI tively little to do as a fag.
Of course, I have not been able to say all
I that there is to be said about Rugby. A Rugbeian,
indeed, would declare my sketch very imperfect.
i1 M'-M I have not even referred to the Debating and
iI" 'I vJi\''li i | Shakespeare Societies, nor to the school magazine;
S- j l'i I I have not described the great day in June when
the sixth-form heroes of learning act Latin and
Greek plays and the prizemen recite their com-
"- l I positions; nor the school concerts, nor the March
-- E Athletic Sports, nor the singing nights. Indeed,
S if I were to write about all those things, I should
S fill a volume. And so I have simply tried to give
to my young readers, both American and English,



tors of the Four-in- i i,.l i .. ..I *..ii .. -i
to m ake flower-b -- i-. i .-- r ('-i ., ,' I .
beings,havinghalf i r.,- .. ... I, i .1.I i li' R y h i ill
fork for his only ~ i.. ri:.. h .... i i l i l o l i
ers to be supplies l I, t i'- ... ia I- i !the ,' l. "
Yet these were a:' .4' I1 -,. :. !-- .:, -.1 ''
of fags in the day .... I
in the land," as a i. :i.:.. N.. l"
they are treated I h Ii I I
Only the sixth-for ..
fags. The young:.I .., . ,, 4 ,
at breakfast, tea, ',. :i Ai 6, I -V
errands to the nea! ...:.
shops, clean out th._.- r,.,.-.I i
attend to their w.,,.r- ,.
the dormitories, al ,
sometimes "field" h"
for them at '" ",", ,,',
cricket. As .,










A FIRE-PLACE AT RUGBY.
in several other public schools, when the sixth- a general idea of Rugby, which all Rugbeians will
form boy or prepostor wants anything, he calls out tell you, in the well-known words of old Brooke, is
F-a-a-g in answer to which call all the fagging the "'best school in England "






A MORNING AT RUGBY.


A MORNING AT RUGBY DURING VACATION-TIME.

BY EDWIN D. MEAD.


RUGBY is the half-way station between Liver-
pool and London the place where the fast ex-
press trains stop five minutes for refreshments."
I arrived there one
summer morning, a ---
few years ago, not by .
the fast express from
Liverpool, but on the
slow and very early
train from Lichfield.
A friend whom I
shall call Sparks had
agreed to meet me
at noon at Rugby
School.
Rugby School is a
mile from the station,
and the road into the
town was dusty and
dreary enough. A
few common-look-
ingstreets with high-
sounding names
branched from it.
I found the school M
right in the middle
of the town. The
old buildings were
of yellow brick, and
surrounded a quad-
rangle, with a great
battlemented en-
trance, over which "NOTHING PLEASES AN OLD RUGB
FIND
a flag was ii;. FIND
On the left was the master's house. Back of
the quadrangle were the chapel and a fine new
building containing recitation-rooms; and behind
all was the great playground, shaded by grand old
trees when I saw it, and affording pasture to hap-
py-looking cows and sheep. No boys were to be
seen, for it was vacation-time.
The great gate was closed. So were other
gates which I tried; but I made my way at last into
a maze of rough rooms and alleys, which prob-
ably belonged to the cook's department; having
wandered about there and tried half a dozen doors
without seeing anybody, I stumbled finally into the
quadrangle, and walked about the rude old clois-
ters which surround it and lead to the school-rooms.
I heard steps in the halls above, and, going back
to the kitchen, I found a woman there who offered


to show me the boys' studies and sleeping-rooms,
while I waited for the old carpenter, who had the
keys of the chapel. The studies are very small


Y BOY SO MUCH AS TO COME BACK AFTER MANY YEARS AND
HIS NAME WHERE HE LEFT IT."

but cozy, and the sleeping-rooms the plainest places
in the world, with their rows of little unpainted
bedsteads.
The rooms vary in size, and all open into narrow
halls. My guide pointed out the room where, in
Mr. Hughes' story, Arthur said his prayers, and
the room where, in Tom Brown's days, the old
scholars used to toss the new boys in blankets.
Everything was in the wildest confusion, for the
half-yearly cleaning was going on. The studies
looked as though rats had been at work in them,
for the boys had made a great litter in packing for
home. A few rooms were in good order, the books
and pictures remaining in place, as the boys were
to return to the same rooms in the autumn. The
walls showed all sorts of tastes. Pictures of hunts
and horses, and dogs, and game held a much more






A MORNING AT RUGBY.


important place, of course, than
they ever have in American
schoolboys' rooms. Some of the
walls were almost entirely covered
with photographs of the royal
family, Mr. Gladstone, or Mr.
Disraeli and other prominent
Englishmen, and of the boys'
own fathers, and mothers, and
brothers, and sisters, and friends
-(especially, as our own school-
boys will guess, young lady
friends). When the book-shelves
were filled, it was always with
books of the best kind. I wish
that some American boys could
see them. The rooms which Tom
Brown used to occupy were shown
me, but they were not at all unlike
the others. I had just finished
the tour of the rooms, when the
old carpenter appeared to take
me to the chapel and to the other


.IK



'Ii

ISI.



,, Ii., I
-r



*Lic i




hli'1


He showed me how the chapel
had been altered since Arnold's
time. It used to be plain and
small, but there are transepts
now, and Arnold's grave, which
was under the old altar, is now
in front of the chancel. I stood
and looked at it as you remember
Tom Brown looked at it in those
last pages of the story. A plain
cross of gray marble in the floor,
with the name, Thomas Arnold,
is all that marks the grave; but
in the corner of one of the tran-
septs is a fine monument, with a
statue of Arnold in his robe, and
bearing an epitaph by Bunsen, the
great German scholar, who was
one of Arnold's dearest friends.
In a little room by the main en-
trance to the chapel are the table
and chair which the Doctor used
in the school-room.


places of interest. 1- L.. The old man said that Mr.
He was a gentle, simple-heart- _-i L''i Hughes-" Tom Brown," you
ed man, and when he found that .. i.,i:. --l :1 came to Rugby some-
what I wished to see was rather times ; and sometimes Dean
the Rugby of Doctor Arnold Stanley came, and sometimes
than the Rugby of Tom Brown, Matthew Arnold. My visit to
his whole soul warmed toward THE TOWER OF WARWICK CASTLE NEAR RUGBY. Rugby was made some time be-
me, and he talked very feelingly of the old fore Dean Stanley died.
days; for he had.been there when Arnold was It was Dean Stanley who wrote the well-known
Life of Doctor Ar-
nold." Stanley was
one of the Rugby boys
-.-' in Tom Brown's own
time; one of the boys
,"' :. '' -..." whom Doctor Arnold
1'' .-X loved most; and I re-
'.'. .' t. member hearing that
"I I '. once, when he went
to Rugby, he told the
boys that, if he had
S '' done anything or been
S anything good in life,
,- he owed it almost all
I. .. lto Doctor Arnold.
',, ,,I: .Arnold's life always
S-seemed to him, from
S, ,, boyhood to old age,
S. -- the model life-a life
combining the things
most worth living for.
-. ... .OWN AND EAST ENJOYED Matthew Arnold, the
HE VOOT-BALL MATCH. distinguished poet and
Head-master, and was there when the celebrated critic, is Doctor Arnold's son. Most of the older
teacher died. boys and girls who read this know that, and some


[DECEMBER,






A MORNING AT RUGBY.


of you, I am sure, have read Matthew Arnold's
beautiful tribute to his father. The poem is
called "Rugby Chapel," and these are the open-
ing lines:
Coldly, sadly descends
The autumn evening. The field
Strewn with its dank yellow drifts
Of withered leaves, and the elms,
Fade into dimness apace,
Silent; hardly a shout
From a few boys late at their play!
The lights come out in the street,
In the school-room windows; but cold,
Solemn, unlighted, austere,
Through the gathering darkness, arise
The Chapel walls, in whole bounds
Thou, my father, art laid.
There thou dost lie, in the gloom
Of the autumn evening."

But it is a long poem, and it does not end in
gloom. You can find it in the volume of Matthew
Arnold's poems..
I asked the old man to leave me alone in the
chapel until my friend came. He would have
shown any kindness to one who loved Dr. Arnold;
and in a moment the big key had turned in the
chapel door, and I was alone in the solemn place.
I walked up to the altar. Then I climbed into the
old pulpit, where so much of Dr. Arnold's good


i

I

a- '* '- 1 -

' -"*: : *'


r ,i '

.' ..:^ ^ ;-*
S:" k- .,17

. ?..f.. ;.
- ... '. 'w c.' ,_. ..

.' g=
.-..._.-_- >^, ^ -


work was done.
The wind blew
around the chapel,
.i. d .I _" ..it : f .r -


manfully into the busy world, seeking to carry
to our brothers some truth for which they will


- I





DOORWAY OF THE DOCTOR'S HOUSE.
I,. trf er: r i--in ll'- to be better nd I wiser
... n : ,. ,_: I!, i . *- h ,-[!-, ,I ,,l [r.., ,I : ch a
, ., ... ... : : 5 ~ .r i .. .[i ,," ,u .


-OVER THE DOCTOR'S WALL, RUGY.
oe_- THE-.. TR._-_0- ALL,- E.._


OVER THE DOCTOR'S WALL, RUGBV.


whistles to remind me that moments of in-
spiration and quickened feeling in solemn places
are of little worth if they do not nerve us to go out


The bolt turned, and there was the old sexton,
with my friend Sparks. We made the tour of the
chapel again, we walked over the great play-ground,


II9



















































































DR. THOMAS ARNOLD,
HEAD-MASTER OF RUGBY SCHOOL FROM 1828 TO 1842.

[From the painting by Thomas Phillips, R, A. By permission of Mr. John Murray, London.]






PUTTING THIS AND THAT TOGETHER.


and then the man showed us through the school-
rooms; the laboratory, the naturalhistory room, the
music room, the drawing room, full of casts, and
the plain recitation rooms. There was the old library
full of musty books, with a bust of Arnold in the
hall outside, and inside were portraits of him and of
other masters. Finally, there was the little old room
where Dr. Arnold used to hear the sixth form,"
with its score of rude desks, all covered with the
boys' names, cut in very big and very deep letters.
'I ..r,,I pleases an old Rugby boy so much, the
old man said, as to come back after many years
and find his name where he had left it. The stu-
dents seem to have full license in this matter, for
half the rooms were cut and marked in a way
which many school-teachers would have considered
outrageous. But I found this custom repeated at
Eton and Harrow.
Another tour of the studies, taken for Sparks's


sake. We saw the little armory, and the dining-
room, with its two fire-places, which Tom Brown
tells about. We went into the great school-
room," which is n't great and is very plain, with a
battered old organ at one end, and the names
of the "honor boys," of successive classes, painted
on a big board at the other end. Among these
names I noticed those of Stanley and Arthur Hugh
Ci. i-,. the poet, and others known to fame.
Finally we went around into the master's yard,
and-as the family was away-we peeped into what
used to be Dr.Arnold's parlor and into his study.
That afternoon, Sparks hurried away to Warwick.
I went to Stratford-on-Avon, and on the following
Sunday we met again in London. We went to
hear Dean Stanley preach in Westminster Abbey,
and thought of the time when he and "Tom
Brown were boys together and heard Dr. Arnold
preach in Rugby chapel.


PUTTING THIS AND THAT TOGETHER.

BY GEORGE KLINGLE.


GREAT-GRANDFATHER PRITCHET rubbed his
spectacles right and left and up and down, and
blew upon them, and set them astride of his nose,
and took out his nippers and pincers and drivers,
and gathered together the machinery of the new,
big, bright engine with all the insides and out-
sides of "a regular steamer,"-which the boys
had taken apart. And every one nudged and look-
ed at every one else, for Great-grandfather Pritchet
was a great man in his way, and nobody could have
helped looking and nudging when smoke-stacks
and boilers and shafts and pipes and pistons went
into a hempen bag, and Grandfather Pritchet sat
on the nl...-..1. ed stool shaking them up.
"What is that for, please ? ventured young
Wilfred, chuckling a bit to himself.
"I 'm shaking the engine together," was the
reply.
It will smash every single thing," muttered
Johannes.
And Great-grandfather Pritchet looked askew
from under the glasses astride of his nose and ex-
claimed : "Odd very odd "
So it was; and every one was sure of it.
You said you would put it together," muttered
Johannes, not very gleefully, and you are shak-
ing it to bits "
"How 's that? Is it possible ejaculated
Great-grandfather Pritchet, eying the bag out-


side; then glancing within, No; not a bit of
it. Boy, you are mistaken It is but taking
form: the parts are but selecting their attitudes;
they are but preparing to combine,--to slip into
their appointed places."
And the nippers and pincers and hammers and
drivers lay coolly on the floor, while Great-grand-
father Pritchet shook the bag as before. Johannes
bit his lip and turned red in the face, and twirled
about on his high heel, and his brothers whispered
among themselves, waiting to see what was to come
next.
It will be ruined, Grandfather,-ruined and
broken to bits! Please let me have the bag."
How! Why? For what?" inquired Great-
grandfather Pritchet, calmly, as if amazed. Will
it not put itself together ?"
"Why, how can it without hands?" "How
can it without somebody to do it?" It takes a
head as well as hands to put a steam-engine to-
gether three voices exclaimed.
Great-grandfather Pritchet looked gravely at his
bag.
"A head as well as hands?--in other words a
man. That is odd enough, to be sure I But now
answer me this: if it takes a head and hands to put
a toy steam-engine together, what must it take to
put a man together ? man, who is a mass of won-
derful tissues, nerves, muscles, bones; man, who


121






SKY -SAILING.


is sensitive and intelligent-breathing, moving,
thinking; man with his wonderful body continually
reconstructing itself; so infinitely delicate in me-
chanism that a pin's point of deviation from the
proper arrangement gives anguish; so wonderfully
constructed that it moves in all its complicated
ways without effort and without pain; -who is
to put such a creature together? "
And the three lads answered, God."
Now, suppose I put this steam-engine together,
and make it run smoothly," inquired Great-grand-
father Pritchet, eying the bag, "what will you do
for your part, Johannes; for the steam-engine is
yours ?"
I shall thank you very much, sir."
Great-grandfather Pritchet stamped his foot with
its buckled shoe, and Johannes knew that he had
made the right answer.
There are four of us here whom God has put
together. All our joints work; all our hearts pump;
our lungs take in the air and puff it out; our


stomachs take charge of our food and deal it about
to our wearing bodies; our ears hear, our eyes
enable us to see, and our brains carry on a world
of business. Which of us has a misfitted joint, or
a badly made bit of machinery, or finds anything
at all wrong or out of place in his whole body?
Why, not one of us; not one of us, i1!. 1 .h I am
not so brisk a runner as I once was not a soul of
us! And whom have we to thank? Put on your
hats, boys; the air outside, too, is clear and
bright; we shall not spend Thanksgiving morn-
ing fitting steam-engines together when.we have
not thanked God that we are in comfortable work-
ing order ourselves. Be quick now, and fly about!"
And Great-grandfather Pritchet stamped hard
on the floor with his spry, bebuckled foot, till
the boys started for their hats; and the boys
whisked about as though trying their joints, and
Great-grandfather Pritchet hung the hempen bag
on a nail, while he and the three younger Pritchets
went to give thanks.


SKY-SAILING.

BY JOHN VANCE CHENEY.

LAZY clouds, so slowly floating,
That would be my kind of boating,-
Riding, gliding, high in air,
Bound for-oh, for anywhere!
Do you ever sail so far
That you steer against a star?
And the moon-Who turns you round
When on her you 'd run aground?
As the wild-goose quacks it South,
Can you see inside his mouth?
When the bluebird brings the Spring,
Is it pinned beneath his wing?
Have you ever seen that town
Where the sun stays when he 's down?
Is his hair all gold and curly?
How does he get up so early?
Who lives 'way on yonder hill,
Always talking when it 's still?
I wonder, oh, I do just wonder
If you 've seen old growling Thunder:
Can't he stop his children's clatter?
Is he mad?-Or what's the matter?

MANY queer things you must spy,
Riding there, so wild and high,-
Lazy clouds, so slowly floating,
That would be my kind of boating.


I22


(DECEMBER,






ONE LITTLE RHYME.


ONE LITTLE RHYME IN A WORLD OF RHYME.

BY ERNEST WHITNEY.

ONE little grain in the sandy bars;
One little flower in a field of flowers;
One little star in a heaven of stars;
One little hour in a year of hours,-
What if it makes or what if it mars ?

But the bar is built of the little grains;
And the little flowers make the meadows gay;
And the little stars light the heavenly plains;
And the little hours of each little day
Give to us all that life contains.


THE CHRISTMAS NUMBER.






124 CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR, [DECEmBER,






I I ,_NE






Very benevolent boy, Oho!
''i a very benevolent boy!
: He said O I wish I had silver and gold
I d ll11 a big house till no more it could hold
i f"/ ,'ith every nice candy and toy!
S Th i exceedingly generous boy i
And my Ckristmas dollar ? 0 pshawJ don't you see?
1 11 have to Keep that to buy candy or me
This very benevolent boy!
:y .,-.;. _L: --,,7


CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST;
Or, Tie Fruit of the Fragile Palm.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.


THE HORN O' PLENTY" was a fine, big, old-
fashioned ship, very high in the bow, very high in
the stern, with a quarter-deck always carpeted
in fine weather, because her captain could
not see why one should not make himself com-
fortable at sea as well as on land. Covajos
Maroots was her captain, and a fine, jolly,
old-fashioned, elderly sailor he was. The Horn
o' Plenty" always sailed upon one sea, and always
between two ports, one on the west side of the sea,
and one on the east. The port on the west was
quite a large city, in which Captain Covajos had a


married son, and the port on the east was another
city in which he had a married daughter. In each
family he had several grandchildren; and, conse-
quently, it was a great joy to the jolly old sailor to.
arrive at either port. The Captain was very par-
ticular about his cargo, and the Horn o' Plenty"
was generally laden with good things to eat, or
sweet things to smell, or fine things to wear, or
beautiful things to look at. Once a merchant
brought to him some boxes of bitter aloes, and
mustard plasters, but Captain Covajos refused to.
take them into his ship.






THE FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM.


I know," said he, "that such things are very
useful and necessary at times, but you'd better
send them over in some other vessel. The Horn
o' Plenty has never carried anything that to look
at, to taste, or to smell, did not delight the souls
of old and young. I am sure you can not say that
of these commodities. If I were to put such things
on board my ship, it would break the spell which
more than fifty savory voyages have thrown around
it.,"
There were sailors who sailed upon that sea who
used to say that sometimes, when the weather was
hazy and they could not see far, they would know
they were about to meet the "Horn o' Plenty"
before she came in sight; her planks and timbers,
and even her sails and masts had gradually become
so filled with the odor of good things that the
winds that blew over her were filled with an agree-
able fragrance.
There was another thing about which Captain
Covajos was very particular; he always liked to
arrive at one of his ports a few days before Christ-
mas. Never, in the course of his long life, had
the old sailor spent a Christmas at sea; and now
that he had his fine grandchildren to help make
the holidays merry, it would have grieved him very
much if he had been unable to reach one of his
ports in good season. His jolly old vessel was
.'-- i., 1ii, heavily laden, and very slow, and there
were many days of calms on that sea when she did
not sail at all, so that her voyages were usually
very, very long. But the Captain fixed the days
of sailing so as to give himself plenty of time to
get to the other end of his course before Christ-
mas came around.
One spring, however, he started too late, and
when he was about the middle of his voyage, he
called to him Baragat Bean, his old boatswain.
This venerable sailor had been with the Captain
ever since he had commanded the "Horn o'
Plenty," and on important occasions he was always
consulted in preference to the other officers, none
of whom had served under Captain Covajos more
than fifteen or twenty years.
"Baragat," said the Captain, "we have just
passed the Isle of Guinea-Hens. You can see its
one mountain standing up against the sky to the
north."
Aye, aye, sir," said old Baragat; there she
stands, the same as usual."
That makes it plain," said the Captain, that
we are not yet half-way across, and I am very
much afraid that I shall not be able to reach my
dear daughter's house before Christmas."
That would be doleful, indeed," said Baragat,
"but I 've been afraid of something of the kind,
for we 've had calms nearly every other day, and


sometimes, when the wind did blow, it came from
the wrong direction, and it's my belief that the
ship sailed backward."
"That was very bad management," said the
Captain. "The chief mate should have seen to
it that the sails were turned in such a manner that
the ship could not go backward. If that sort of
thing happened often, it would become quite a
serious affair."
"But what is done can't be helped," said the
boatswain, "and I don't see how you are ever
going to get into port before Christmas."
"Nor I either," said the Captain, gazing out
over the sea.
"It would give me a sad turn, sir," said Bar-
agat, "to see you spend Christmas at sea; a thing
you never did before, nor ever shall do, if I can
help it. If you 'll take my advice, sir, you '11 turn
around, and go back. It 's a shorter distance to
the port we started from than to the one we are
going to, and if we turn back now, I am sure we
all shall be on shore before the holidays."
"Go back to my son's house-- exclaimed
Captain Covajos, where I was last winter Why,
that would be like spending last Christmas over
again "
"But that would be better than having none at
all, sir," said the boatswain, "and a Christmas at
sea would be about equal to none."
Good! exclaimed the Captain. I will give
up the coming Christmas with my daughter and
her children, and go back and spend last Christ-
mas over again with my son and his dear boys and
girls. Have the ship turned around immediately,
Baragat, and tell the chief mate I do not wish to
sail backward if it can possibly be avoided."
For a week or more the Horn o' Plenty" sailed
back upon her track toward the city where dwelt
the Captain's son. The weather was fine, the
carpet was never taken up from the quarter-deck,
and everything was going on very well, when a
man, who happened to have an errand at one of
the topmasts, came down, and reported that, far
away to the north, he had seen a little open boat
with some people in it.
Ah me said Captain Covajos, it must be
some poor fellows who are shipwrecked. It will
take us out of our course, but we must not leave
them to their fate. Have the ship turned about,
so that it will sail northward."
It was not very long before they came up with
the boat; and, much to the Captain's surprise, he
saw that it was filled with boys.
"Who are you?" he cried as soon as he was
near enough. "And where do you come from? "
"We are the First Class in Long Division,"
said the oldest boy, and we are cast away. Have







CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST.; OR,


you anything to eat that you can spare us ? We Now, the chief mate had not the least idea in
are almost famished." the world where Apple Island was, but he did not
We have plenty of everything," said the Cap- like to ask, because that would be confessing his
tain. Come on board instantly, and all your ignorance; so he steered his vessel toward a point
wants shall be supplied." where he believed he had once seen an island,
How long have you been without food?" he which, probably, was the one in question. The
asked, when the boys were on the deck of the Horn o' Plenty sailed in this direction all night,
vessel. and when day broke, and there was no island in
We have had nothing to eat since breakfast," sight, she took another course ; and so sailed this
way and that for six or seven days,
without ever seeing a sign of land.
All this time, the First Class in Long
Division was as happy as it could
be, for it was having a perfect holi-
-.- .. day; fishing off the sides of the ves-
-- s-t sel, climbing up the ladders and
= - r ropes, and helping the sailors whistle
for wind. But the Captain now be-
-- gan to grow a little impatient, for he
S-- t felt he was losing time; so he sent
for the chief mate, and said to him
mildly but firmly:
ida i l" I know it is out of the line of
S your duty to search for island schools,
S~. but, if you really think that you do not
Si. know where Apple Island lies, I wish
you to say so, frankly and openly."
"'IT MUST BE SOME POOR FELLOWS WHO ARE SHIPWRECKED!' SAID CAPTAIN COVAJOS." Frankly and openly," answered
the mate, I don't think I do."
said one of them; and it is now late in the after- Very well," said the Captain. Now, that
noon. Some of us are nearly dead from starvation." is a basis to work upon, and we know where we
It is very hard for boys to go so long without stand. You can take a little rest, and let the sec-
eating," said the good Captain. And leading ond mate find the island. But I can only give
them below, he soon set them to work upon a him three days in which to do it. We really have
bountiful meal. no time to spare."
Not until their hunger was fully satisfied did he The second mate was very proud of the respon-
ask them how they came to be cast away. sibility placed upon him, and immediately ordered
"You see, sir," said the oldest boy, that we the vessel to be steered due south.
and the Multiplication Class had a holiday to-day, One is just as likely," he said, to find a to-
and each class took a boat and determined to have tally unknown place by going straight ahead in a
a race, so as to settle, once for all, which was the certain direction, as by sailing here, .there, and
highest branch of arithmetic,, multiplication or everywhere. In this way, you really get over more
long division. Our class rowed so hard that we water, and there is less wear and tear of the ship
entirely lost sight of the Multiplicationers, and and rigging."
were out of sight of everything ; so that, at last, we So he sailed due south for two days, and at the
did not know which was the way back, and thus end of that time they came in sight of land. This
we became castaways." was quite a large island, and when they approached
Where is your school ?" asked the Captain. near enough, they saw upon its shores a very
"It is on Apple Island," said the boy; "and, handsome city.
although it is along way off for a small boat with Is this Apple Island? said Captain Covajos
only four oars for nine boys, it can't be very far to the oldest boy.
for a ship." "Well, sir," answered the youth, "I am not
That is quite likely," said the Captain, and sure I can say with certainty that I truly believe
we shall take you home. Baragat, tell the chief that it is; but, I think, if we were to go on shore,
mate to have the vessel turned toward Apple the people there would be able to tell us how to go
Island, that we may restore these boys to their to Apple Island."
parents and guardians." Very likely," said the good Captain; and we


126


[DECEMBER,






TIE FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM.


shall go on shore and make inquiries. And it has
struck me, Baragat, he said, that perhaps the
merchants in the city where my son lives may be
somewhat annoyed when the 'Horn' o' Plenty'
comes back with all their goods on board, and not
disposed of. Of course, not understanding my
motives, they may be disposed to think ill of me.
Consequently the idea has come into my head, that
it might be a good thing to stop here for a time,
and try to dispose of some of our merchandise.
The city seems to be quite prosperous, and I have
no doubt there are a number of merchants here."
So the Horn o' Plenty was soon anchored in
the harbor, and as many of the officers and crew
as could be spared went on shore to make inquir-
ies. Of course the First Class in Long Division
was not left behind ; and, indeed, they were ashore
as soon as anybody. The Captain and his com-
panions were cordially welcomed by some of the
dignitaries of the city who had come down to the
harbor to see the strange vessel; but no one could
give any information in regard to Apple Island,
the name of which had never been heard on those


der palm-tree, which has been growing there for
hundreds of years. It bears large and handsome
fruit which is .. .. ,:i .;;. like the cocoanut; and,
in its perfection, is said to be a transcendently de-
licious fruit."
"Said to be!" exclaimed the Captain; "are
you not positive about it? "
No," said the other; no one living has ever
tasted the fruit in its perfection. When it becomes
overripe, it drops to the ground, and, even then,
it is considered royal property, and is taken to the
palace for the King's table. But on f&te-days and
grand occasions small bits of it are distributed to
the populace."
Why don't you pick the fruit," asked Captain
Covajos, when it is in its best condition to eat?"
It would be impossible," said the citizen, "for
any one to climb up that tree, the trunk of which
is so extremely delicate and fragile that the weight
of a man would probably snap it; and, of course,
a ladder placed against it would produce the same
result. Many attempts have been made to secure
this fruit at the proper season, but all of them


EVERY BOY IN THE CLASS LOOKED UP, SHUT ONE EYE, AND WAGGED HIS HEAD."

shores. The Captain was naturally desirous of have failed. Another palm-tree of a more robust
knowing at what place he had landed, and was in- sort was once planted near this one in the hope
formed that this was the Island of the Fragile Palm. that when it grew high enough, men could climb
"That is rather an odd name," said the old up the stronger tree and get the fruit from the
Captain. Why is it so called?" other. But, although we waited many years the
The reason is this," said his informant. "Near second tree never attained sufficient height, and it
the center of the island stands a tall and very slen- was cut down."


_ _ _ I _


" I ,.',






CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR,


It is a great pity, said the Captain; "'but I
suppose it can't be helped." And then he began
to make inquiries about the merchants in the place,
and what probability there was of his doing a little
trade here. The Captain soon discovered that the
cargo of his ship was made up of goods which
were greatly desired by the citizens of this place;
and for several days he was very busy in selling
the good things to eat, the sweet things to smell,
the fine things to wear, and the beautiful things to
look at, with which the hold of the Horn o'
Plenty was crowded.
During this time the First Class in Long Divi-
sion roamed, in delight, over the city. The busy
streets, the shops, the handsome buildings, and
the queer sights which they occasionally met, inter-
ested and amused them greatly. But still the boys
were not satisfied. They had heard of the Fragile
Palm, and they made up their minds to go
and have a look at it. Therefore, taking a guide,
they tramped out into the country, and in about
an hour they came in sight of the beautiful tree
standing in the center of the plain. The trunk
was, indeed, exceedingly slender, and, as the
guide informed them, the wood was of so very brit-
tle a nature that if the tree had not been protect-
ed from the winds by the high hills which encir-
cled it, it would have been snapped off ages ago.
Under the broad tuft of leaves that formed its top,
the boys saw hanging large clusters of the precious
fruit; great nuts as big as their heads.
"At what time of the year," asked the oldest
boy, "is that fruit just ripe enough to eat?"
"Now," answered the guide. "This is the
season when it is in the most perfect condition.
In about a month it will become entirely too ripe
and soft, and will drop. But, even then, the King
and all the rest of us are glad enough to get a taste
of it."
I should think the King would be exceedingly
eager to get some of it, just as it is," said the boy.
Indeed he is replied the guide. He and
his father, and I don't know how many grandfathers
back, have offered large rewards to any one who
would procure them this fruit in its best condition.
But nobody has ever been able to get any yet."
The reward still holds good, I suppose," said
the head boy.
Oh, yes," answered the guide; "there never
was a King who so much desired to taste the fruit as
our present monarch."
The oldest boy looked up at the top of the tree,
shut one eye, and gave his head little wag. And
every boy in the class looked up, shut one eye, and
slightly wagged his head. After which the oldest
boy said that he thought it was about time for
them to go back to the ship.


As soon as they reached the vessel, and could
talk together freely, the boys had an animated dis-
cussion. It was unanimously agreed that they would
make an attempt to get some of the precious fruit
from the Fragile Palm, and the only difference of
opinion among them was as to how it should be
done. Most of them were in favor of some method
of climbing the tree and trusting to its not break-
ing. But this the oldest boy would not listen to;
the trunk might snap, and then somebody would
be hurt, and he felt, in a measure, responsible for
the rest of the class. At length a good plan was
proposed by a boy who had studied mechanics.
What we ought to do with that tree," said he,
"is to put a hinge into her. Then we could let
her down gently, pick off the fruit, and set her up
again.
"But how are you going to do it?" asked the
others.
This is the way," said the boy who had stud-
ied mechanics. You take a saw, and then, about
two feet from the ground, you begin and saw down
diagonally, for a foot and a half, to the center of
the trunk. Then you go on the other side, and
saw down in the same way, the two cuts meeting
each other. Now you have the upper part of the
trunk ending in a wedge, which fits into a cleft in
the lower part of the trunk. Then, about nine
inches below the place where you first began to
saw, you bore a hole straight through both sides
of the cleft and the wedge between them. Then
you put an iron bolt through this hole, and you
have your tree on a hinge, only she wont be apt
to move because she fits in so snug and tight.
Then you get a long rope, and put one end in a
slip-knot loosely around the trunk. Then you get
a lot of poles, and tie them end to end, and push
this slip-knot up until it is somewhere near the
top, when you pull it tight. Then you take
another rope with a slip-knot, and push this a
little more than half-way up the trunk. By having
two ropes, that way, you prevent too much strain
coming on any one part of the trunk. Then, after
that, you take a mallet and chisel and round off
the corners of the wedge, so that it will turn easily
in the cleft. Then we take hold of the ropes, let
her down gently, pick off the fruit, and haul her
up again. That will all be easy enough."
This plan delighted the boys, and they all pro-
nounced in its favor; but the oldest one suggested
that it would be better to fasten the ropes to the
trunk before they began to saw upon it, and
another boy asked how they were going to keep
the tree standing when they hauled her up again.
"Oh, that is easy enough," said the one who
had studied mechanics; "you just bore another
hole about six inches above the first one, and


[DECEMBER,






THE FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM


put in another bolt. Then, of course, she can't
move."
This settled all the difficulties, and it was agreed
to start out early the next morning, gather the
fruit, and claim the reward the King had offered.
They .'.-. '.i;.,i went to the Captain and
asked him for a sharp saw, a mallet and chisel,
an auger, two iron bolts, and two very long
ropes. These, having been cheerfully given
to them, were put away in readiness for the
morrow and the work to be attempted.
Very early on the next morning, the
First Class in Long Division set out
for the Fragile Palm, carrying their
tools and ropes. Few people were
awake as they passed through the
city, and, without being observ-
ed, they reached the little plain
on which the tree stood. The ropes were attached
at the proper places, the tree was sawn, diagonally,
according to the plan; the bolt was put in,andthe cor-
ners of the wedge were rounded off. Then the eldest
boy produced a pound of butter, whereupon his com-
rades, who had seized the ropes, paused in astonish-
ment and asked him whyhe had '.... hi i rl, : butter.
"I thought it well," was the reply, to bring
along some butter, because, when


of the long ropes, while another one with a pole
pushed against the trunk of the Fragile Palm.
When it began to lean over a little, he dropped
his pole and ran to help the
.. others with the ropes. Slowly
S_- the tree moved on its hinge,
descending at first very gradu-
ally; but it soon began to move
S with greater rapidity, although the
boys held it back with all their
strength ; and, despite their most des-
perate efforts, the top came to the ground
at last with quite a great thump. And
then they all dropped their ropes, and ran
for the fruit. Fortunately the great nuts
encased in their strong husks were not in the
least injured, and the boys soon pulled them
off, about forty in all. Some of the boys were in
favor of cracking open a few of the nuts and eat-
ing them, but this the eldest boy positively forbade.
"This fruit," he said, "is looked upon as al-
most sacred, and if we were to eat any of it, it is
probable that we would be put to death, which
would be extremely awkward for fellows who have
gone to all the trouble we have had. We must set
up the tree and carry the fruit to the King."
Accordingto this advice, they thoroughly greased


4 "__ " -,- -
j-





















tSLOWLY THE TREE M1OV55D ON ITS HINGE."
the tree is down, we can grease the hinge, and the hinge in the tree with the butter, and then
then it will not be so hard to pull it up again." set themselves to work to haul up the trunk. This,
When all was ready, eight of the boys took hold however, was much more difficult than letting it
VOL. XIII.--9.
VOL. XIII.--9.






CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR,


down; and they had to lift up the head of it, and
prop it up on poles, before they could pull upon
it with advantage. The tree, although tall, was
indeed a very slender one, with a small top, and,
if it had been as fragile as it was supposed to be,
the boys' efforts would surely have broken it. At
last, after much tugging and warm work, they
pulled it into an upright position, and put in the
second bolt. They left the ropes on the tree be-
cause, as some of them had suggested, the people
might want to let the tree down again the next year.
It would have been difficult for the boys to carry in
their arms the great pile of fruit they had gathered ;
but, having noticed a basket-maker's cottage on
their way to the tree, two of them were sent to
buy one of his largest baskets, or hampers. This
was attached to two long poles, and, having been
filled with the nuts, the boys took the poles on
their shoulders, and marched into the city.
On their way to the palace they attracted a
great crowd, and when they were ushered into the
presence of the King, his surprise and delight
knew no bounds. At first he could scarcely be-
lieve his eyes; but he had seen the fruit so often
that there could be no mistake about it.
I shall not ask you," he said to the boys, how
you procured this fruit, and thus accomplished a
deed which has been the object of the ambition of
myself and my forefathers. All I ask is, did you
leave the tree standing? "
We did," said the boys.
"Then all that remains to be done," said His
Majesty, "is to give you the reward you have so
nobly earned. Treasurer, measure out to each of
them a quart of gold coin. And pray be quick about
it, for I am wild with desire to have a table spread,
and one of these nuts cracked, that I may taste of
its luscious contents."
The boys, however, appeared a little dissatisfied.
Huddling together, they consulted in a low tone,
and then the eldest boy addressed the King.
May it please your Majesty," he said; we
should very much prefer to have you give each of
us one of those nuts instead of a quart of gold."
The King looked grave. "This is a much greater
reward," he said, than I had ever expected to
pay; but, since you ask it, you must have it. You
have done something which none of my subjects
has ever been able to accomplish, and it is right,
therefore, that you should be fully satisfied."
So he gave them each a nut, with which they
departed in triumph to the ship.
By the afternoon of the next day, the Captain
had sold nearly all his cargo at very good prices;
and when the money was safely stored away in the
Horn o' Plenty," he made ready to sail, for he de-
clared he had really no time to spare. "~I must


now make all possible haste," he said to old Bara-
gat, "' to find Apple Island, put these boys ashore,
and then speed away to the city where lives my
son. We must not fail to get there in time to
spend last Christmas over again."
On the second day, after the Horn o' Plenty "
had left the Island of the Fragile Palm, one of the
sailors who happened to be aloft noticed a low,
black, and exceedingly unpleasant-looking vessel
rapidly approaching. This soon proved to be the
ship of a band of corsairs, who, having heard of the
large amount of money on the Horn o' Plenty,"
had determined to pursue her and capture the
rich prize. All sail was set upon the "Horn o'
Plenty," but it soon became plain that she could
never outsail the corsair vessel.
"What our ship can do better than anything
else," said Baragat to the Captain, "is to stop
short. Stop her short, andlet the other one go by."
This maneuver was executed, but, although the
corsair passed rapidly by, not being able to stop
so suddenly, it soon turned around and came back,
its decks swarming with savage men armed to the
teeth.
"They are going to board us," cried Baragat.
"'They are getting out their grappling-irons, and
they will fasten the two ships together."
"Let all assemble on the quarter-deck," said
the Captain. It is higher there, and we shall
not be so much exposed to accidents. Nothing is
so unsafe as to put one's self in the way of a body
of men like those impetuous fellows."
The corsair ship soon ran alongside the Horn
o' Plenty," and in a moment the two vessels were
fastened together; and then the corsairs, every
man of them, each with cutlass in hand and a belt
full of dirks and knives, swarmed up the side of
the Horn o' Plenty and sprang upon its central
deck. Some of the ferocious fellows, seeing the
officers and crew all huddled together upon the
quarter-deck, made a movement in that direc-
tion. This so frightened the chief mate that he
sprang down upon the deck of the corsair ship.
A panic now arose, and he was immediately fol-
lowed by the officers and crew. The boys, of course,
were not to be left behind; and the Captain and
Baragat felt themselves bound not to desert the
crew, and so they jumped also. None of the cor-
sairs interfered with this proceeding, for each one
of them was anxious to find the money at once.
When the passengers and crew of the "Horn o'
Plenty,', were all on board the corsair ship, Bara-
gat came to the Captain, and said:
If I were you, sir, I 'd cast off those grapnels,
and separate the vessels. When those rascals
have finished robbing our money-chests, they will
come back here and murder us all."


[DECEMBER,






THE FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM.


"That is a good idea," said Captain Covajos;
and he told the chief mate to give orders to cast
off the grapnels, push the two vessels apart, and
set some of the sails.
When this had been done, the corsair vessel be-
gan to move away from the other, and was soon
many lengths distant from her. When the cor-
sairs came on deck and perceived what had hap-
pened, they were infuriated, and immediately
began to pursue their own vessel with the one they
had captured. But the Horn o' Plenty could
not, by any possibility, sail as fast as the corsair
ship, and the latter easily kept away from her.
Now, then," said Baragat to the Captain,
" whatyou have to do is easy enough. Sail straight
for our port and those sea-robbers will follow you;
for, of course, they will wish to get their own vessel
back again, and will hope, by some carelessness on
our part, to overtake us. In the meantime the
money will be safe enough, for they will have no
opportunity of spending it; and when we come to
port, we can take some soldiers on board, and go
back and capture those fellows. They can never
sail away from us on the Horn o' Plenty."
"That is an admirable plan," said the Cap-
tain, and I shall carry it out; but I can not sail to
port immediately. I must first find Apple Island
and land these boys, whose parents and guardians
are probably growing very uneasy. I suppose
the corsairs will continue to follow us wherever
we go."
"I hope so," said Baragat; "at any rate we
shall see."
The First Class in Long Division was very much
delighted with the change of vessels, and the boys
rambled everywhere, and examined with great in-
terest all that belonged to the corsairs. They felt
quite easy about the only treasures they possessed,
because, when they had first seen the piratical
vessel approaching, they had taken the precious
nuts which had been given to them by the King,
and had hidden them at the bottom of some large
boxes, in which the Captain kept the sailors' win-
ter clothes.
In this warm climate," said the eldest boy,
the robbers will never meddle with those winter
clothes, and our precious fruit will be perfectly
safe."
If you had taken my advice," said one of the
other boys, "we should have eaten some of the
nuts. Those, at least, we shouldhave been sure of."
"And we should have had that many less to
show to the other classes," said the eldest boy.
"Nuts like these, I am told, if picked at the
proper season, will keep for a long time."
For some days the corsairs on board the Horn
o' Plenty" followed their own vessel, but then


they seemed to despair of ever being able to over-
take it, and steered in another direction. This
threatened to ruin all the plans of Captain Cova-
jos, and his mind became troubled. Then the boy
who had studied mechanics came forward and said
to the Captain:
I '11 tell you what I 'd do, sir, if I were you;
I 'd follow your old ship, and when night came on
I 'd sail up quite near to her, and let some of your
sailors swim quietly over, and fasten a cable to her,
and then you could tow her after you wherever
you wished to go."
But they might unfasten the cable, or cut it,"
said Baragat, who was standing by.
"That could easily be prevented," said the boy.
"At their end of the cable must be a stout chain
which they can not cut, and it must be fastened so
far beneath the surface of the water that they will
not be able to reach it to unfasten it."
"A most excellent plan," said Captain Covajos;
"let it be carried out."
As soon as it became quite dark, the corsair ves-
sel quietly approached the other, and two stout
sailors from Finland, who swam very well, were
ordered to swim over and attach the chain-end of
a long cable to the Horn o' Plenty." It was a
very difficult operation, for the chain was heavy,
but the men succeeded at last, and returned to
report.
"We put the chain on, fast and strong, sir,"
they said to the Captain; "and six feet under
water. But the only place we could find to make
it fast to was the bottom of the rudder."
That will do very well," remarked Baragat;
"for the 'Horn o' Plenty' sails better backward
than forward, and will not be so hard to tow."
For week after week, and month after month,
Captain Covajos, in the corsair vessel, sailed here
and there in search of Apple Island, always towing
after him the "Horn o' Plenty," with the corsairs
on board, but never an island with a school on it
could they find; and one day old Baragat came to
the Captain and said:
If I were you, sir, I 'd sail no more in these
warm regions. I am quite sure that apples grow
in colder latitudes, and are never found so far
south as this."
"That is a good idea," said Captain Covajos.
We should sail for the north if we wish to find an
island of apples. Have the vessel turned north-
ward."
And so, for days and weeks, the two vessels
slowly moved on to the north. One day the Cap-
tain made some observations and calculations, and
then he hastily summoned Baragat.
"Do you know," said he, "that I find it is
now near the end of November, and I am quite






CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR,


certain that we shall not get to the port where my
son lives in time to celebrate last Christmas again.
It is dreadfully slow work, towing after us the
'Horn o' Plenty,' full of corsairs, wherever we
go. But we can not cast her off and sail straight
for our port, for I should lose my good ship, the




_;'
.-


37_

A -

~ I


I\LI :.

;~.Ivj~


THE CREW OF THE "HORN O* PLENTY" TAKE TO THE CORSAII
(SEE PAGE 130.)

merchants would lose all their money, and the
corsairs would go unpunished; and, besides all
that, think of the misery of the parents and guar-
dians of those poor boys. No; I must endeavor
to find Apple Island. And if I can not reach port
in time to spend last Christmas with my son, I
shall certainly get there in season for Christmas
before last. It is true that I spent that Christmas
with my daughter, but I can not go on to her now.
I am much nearer the city where my son lives;
and, besides, it is necessary to go back, and give
the merchants their money. So now we shall have
plenty of time, and need not feel hurried."
"No," said Baragat, heaving a vast sigh, "we
need not feel hurried."
The mind of the eldest boy now became very
much troubled, and he called his companions
about him. I don't like at all," said he, this


sailing to the north. It is now November, and,
-li .... it is warm enough at this season in the
southern part of the sea, it will become colder and
colder as we go on. The consequence of this will
be that those corsairs will want winter clothes,
they will take them out of the Captain's chests,
and they will find our fruit."
The boys groaned. That is true," said
one of them; "but still we wish to go
back to our island."
"Of course," said the eldest boy, "it is
quite proper that we should return to Long
Division. But think of the hard work we
did to get that fruit, and think of the quarts
of gold we gave up for it! It would be too
bad to lose it now! "
It was unanimously agreed that it would
be too bad to lose the fruit, and it was also
unanimously agreed that they wished to go
back to Apple Island. But what to do about
it, they did not know.
Day by day the weather grew colder and
colder, and the boys became more and more
excited and distressed for fear they should
lose their precious fruit. The eldest boy
lay awake for several nights, and then a
plan came into his head. He went to Cap-
tain Covajos and proposed that he should
send a flag of truce over to the corsairs,
offering to exchange winter clothing. He
would send over to them the heavy gar-
ments they had left on their own vessel,
and in return would take the boxes of
clothes intended for the winter wear of his
sailors. In this way, they would get their
ir fruit back without the corsairs knowing
anything about it. The Captain consid-
ered this an excellent plan, and ordered
the chief mate to take a boat and a flag of
truce, and go over to the Horn o' Plenty," and
make the proposition. The eldest boy and two
of the others insisted on going also, in order that
there might be no mistake about the boxes. But
when the flag-of-truce party reached the Horn o'
Plenty" they found not a corsair there Every
man of them had gone. They had taken with
them all the money-chests, but to the great delight
of the boys, the boxes of winter clothes had not
been disturbed; and in them still nestled, safe and
sound, the precious nuts of the Fragile Palm.
When the matter had been thoroughly looked
into, it became quite evident what the corsairs had
done. There had been only one boat on board
the Horn o' Plenty," and that was the one on
which the First Class in Long Division had arrived.
The night before, the two vessels had passed with-
in a mile or so of a large island, which the Cap-





T8HE FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM.


tain had approached in the hope it was the one
they were looking for, and they passed it so slowly
that the corsairs had time to ferry themselves
over, a few at a time, in the little boat, taking with
them the money,-and all without discovery,
Captain Covajos was greatly depressed when he
heard of the loss of all the money.
I shall have a sad tale to tell my merchants,"
he said, and Christmas before last will not be
celebrated so joyously as it was the first time. But
we can not help what has happened, and we all must
endeavor to bear our losses with patience. We
shall continue our search for Apple Island, but
I shall go on board my own ship, for I have greatly
missed my carpeted quarter-deck and my other
comforts. The chief mate, however, and a major-
ity of the crew shall remain on board the corsair
vessel, and continue to tow us. The 'Horn o'
Plenty' sails better stern foremost, and we shall
go faster that way."


When the good old man received his present, he
was much affected. I will accept what you offer
me," he said; "for if I did not, I know your feel-
ings would be wounded. But you must keep one
of the nuts for yourselves. And, more than that,
if we do not find Apple Island in the course of
the coming year, I invite you all to spend Christ-
mas before last over again, with me at my son's
house."
All that winter, the two ships sailed up and
down, and here and there, but never could they
find Apple Island. When Christmas-time came, old
Baragat went around among the boys and the
crew, and told them it would be well not to say a
word on the subject to the Captain, for his feelings
were very tender in regard to spending Christmas
away from his families, and the thing had never
happened before. So nobody made any allusion
to the holidays, and they passed over as if they had
been ordinary days.


"WHEN THE GOOD MAN RECEIVED HIS PRESENT-, HE WAS MUCI AFFICTID."


The boys were overjoyed at recovering their
fruit, and most of them were in favor of cracking
two or three of the great nuts, and eating their
contents in honor of the occasion, but the eldest
boy dissuaded them.
The good Captain," he said, "has been very
kind in endeavoring to take us back to our school,
and still intends to keep up the search for dear old
Apple Island. The least we can do for him is to
give him this fruit, which is all we have, and let
him do what he pleases with it. This is the only
way in which we can show our gratitude to him."
The boys turned their backs on one another, and
each of them gave his eyes a little rub, but they
all agreed to give the fruit to the Captain.


During the spring, and all through the summer,
the two ships kept up the unavailing search, but
when the autumn began, Captain Covajos said to
old Baragat: I am very sorry, but I feel that I can
no longer look for Apple Island. I must go back
and spend Christmas before last over again, with
my dearest son; and if these poor boys never
return to their homes, I am sure they can not say
it was any fault of mine."
No, sir," said Baragat, I think you have done
all that could be expected of you."
So the ships sailed to the city on the west side
of the sea; and the Captain was received with
great joy by his son, and his grandchildren. He
went to the merchants. and told them how he had


1885. 1






[DECEMBER,


CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST.


lost all their money. He hoped they would be
able to bear their misfortune with fortitude, and
begged, as he could do nothing else for them, that
they would accept the eight great nuts from the
Fragile Palm that the boys had given him. To his
surprise the merchants became wild with delight
when they received the nuts. The money they
had lost was as nothing, they said, compared to the
value of this incomparable and precious fruit,
picked in its prime, and still in a perfect condition.
Ithacdbeen many, many generations since this rare
fruit, the value of which was like unto that of dia-
monds and pearls, had been for sale in any market
in the world; and kings and queens in many
countries were ready to give for it almost any price
that might be asked.
When the good old Captain heard this he was
greatly rejoiced, and, as the holidays were now near,
he insisted that the boys should spend Christmas
before last over again, at his son's house. He
found that a good many people here knew where
Apple Island was, and he made arrangements for


the First Class in Long Division to return to that
island in a vessel which was to sail about the first
of the year.
The boys still possessed the great nut which the
Captain had insisted they should keep for them-
selves, and he now told them that if they chose to
sell it, they would each have a nice little fortune to
take back with them. The eldest boy consulted
the others, and then he said to the Captain:
: Our class has gone through a good many hard-
ships, and has had a lot of trouble with that palm-
tree and other things, and we think we ought to
be rewarded. So, if it is all the same to you, I
think we shall crack the nut on Christmas Day
and we all shall eat it."
"I never imagined," cried Captain Covajos, as
he sat, on that Christmas Day, surrounded by his
son's family and the First Class in Long Division,
the eyes of the whole party sparkling with ecstasy
as they tasted the peerless fruit of the Fragile
Palm, that Christmas before last could ever be so
joyfully celebrated over again."


U ILi II II


r ;/



)


'K~


71' r -










J" L' In--1 J CGE7.1


:1111,1!h;. II 1~ 1 1~a ~t~gg.





r: 4___ -
-'/r

F _77
'/h ~-~J:-~-t~,b;~;~s;~~;~~- ~ _~ ~ _3


134






135


~ph- rtt


t\~ ar


\ 2
I\ '1'' I\c f

a>.' 'I
---


'K


-. I- --





'I'

I"'F;L1'*

*'lr

a :i i


#4I
- --


BY MALCOLM DOUGLAS.


EACH day, bowing toward her politely,
He wooed her with passion intense,
Reproving his little pet poodle,
That barked at her cat through the fence.
" I 've a question to ask," he once murmured,-
"Will you be, little woman, my wife?
With none but my poodle to love me,
I 'm leading too lonely a life."
And her round, dimpled cheeks were like roses;
"Although I adore you," sighed she,
" I never can marry you never!
Your dog with my cat wont agree."
"It is true," he said, stroking his poodle
But then I 've been thinking of that.
You need n't distress yourself, darling,
For you can get rid of your cat."


"What Part with my dear little Snow-ball!
I never could do it! she said.
" You 're cruel to ask it, when you, love,
Can give up your poodle instead."
"But he knows how to carry a basket,"
He said, with a quivering lip;
" And he '11 jump through ahoop, and-I love him!
I could n't dispense with poor Gyp! "
" Then you see how it is, dear," she nodded.
"I see," he replied; it is Fate !"
" And, until they make up, dear, she added,-
"The best thing, I'm sure, is to wait."
So, each day, bowing toward her politely,
He wooes her, with passion intense,
Reproving his little pet poodle,
That barks at her cat through the fence!


-f I^


A ROMANCE.


a
^-.


~c~Y






136 THE RAJAH'S PAPER-CUTTER.



THE RAJAH'S PAPER-CUTTER.

BY JOHN R. CORYELL.


A NUMBER of years ago there was a wealthy
rajah in Calcutta, who, having a friendly feeling
toward his English conquerors, had learned to
speak and read their language. He was not a
little proud of his accomplishments, and especially
of his ability to read; and so he very seldom lost
an opportunity to display it.
It happened that one day, while visiting the
English viceroy, he saw, lying on a table, a copy
of the .' Review, which had just been
received. As there were several strangers in the
room, the rajah was seized with a desire to make
known his knowledge of English.
"Your Excellency," he said, addressing the vice-
roy, will you be good enough to lend me this
book to read ? "
The viceroy of course complied, and all the
guests expressed their surprise that the rajah had
overcome the difficulties of the English language.
So the prince, quite satisfied with the sensation he
had created, took his leave.
Having borrowed the magazine, the rajah,
though he had no idea of the sort of literature it
contained, felt that he ought to read it through
carefully, so that, when questioned about it by the
viceroy, he might answer intelligently.
Accordingly he began with the first article,
which was an account of "Hunting the Orang-
outang "; and first learning from his dictionary what
an orang-outang was, he read on to the bottom of
the page with increasing interest.
"The orang is as large as"-he read, and,
turning the page, continued -"the unfortunate
Queen of Scotland, who will perhaps stand higher
in the estimation of future generations than her
more successful rival, Elizabeth of England."
The rajah was greatly perplexed. The sentence
seemed to make sense, and yet he could not for
the life of him see what the orang-outang had to do
with the Queen of Scotland. And the worst of it
was that the article immediately dropped the sub-
ject of the orang and devoted itself to Queen Mary
Stuart.
The puzzled potentate, having tried in vain to con-
nect the two ideas, finally gave up the orang-outang
and became so interested in the fortunes of the
Scottish Queen that by the time he had reached
the bottom of the following page he had almost
forgotten that there was such a creature as an
orang-outang.
"The house of Guise, then in power in France,"--


the rajah turned the page,- devoted themselves
almost exclusively to the breeding of milch cows."
"Well," said the viceroy, when, on the follow-
ing day, the rajah returned the magazine, "did
you find anything of interest to you in the pages ? "
Interesting enough, but so very disconnected,"
replied the rajah. "Why, look! and he pointed
out the extraordinary sentences he had read.
The viceroy, who was a gentleman, did not laugh
then; he merely smiled sympathetically, and waited
until the rajah was gone.
"I should have told you," he said politely,
"that the leaves were not cut. See!" He took
up a paper-knife and cut the leaves. You turned
from Hunting the Orang-outang' to 'The History
of Mary Stuart,' and from that to an article on
'Jersey Cows.' "
The rajah forgot his chagrin in his curiosity to
learn how the magazine could be printed with its
leaves all folded up.
This the viceroy explained, and then, seeing
that the rajah was curiously examining the paper-
knife, he courteously presented it to him. The
rajah then returned home, and the viceroy forgot
the occurrence until it was recalled to his memory
in a singular way, about a year later.
He was surprised one day to see a gayly dressed
company enter his court-yard, surrounding the
friendly rajah, who was mounted upon the back of
a young elephant. Salutations were exchanged,
and the rajah called out:
"Has your Excellency an uncut copy of the
Edinburghi Review ? "
The viceroy had a copy, and sent for it.
"Will your Excellency please toss it to my ele-
phant?"
The viceroy threw it toward the animal, which
very deftly caught it with its trunk.
What was the viceroy's astonishment then to see
the elephant slip the uncut edges of the magazine
over one of its tusks and neatly and carefully cut
them open !
Looking more closely, he saw that each of the
tusks had been carved into a paper-knife, with
smooth blade and elaborate handle.
The elephant, when it had completed its task of
cutting the leaves, passed the magazine back to
the .-,i..' in viceroy.
"Your Excellency," said the rajah, as he dis-
mounted from the elephant, a year ago you gave
me a paper-knife. It has, as you see, come to






THE RAJAI'S PAPER-CUTTER.


life. I hope you will do me the honor to receive
it back again."
In Calcutta, where this story is told, admiration
is always expressed at the princely generosity of












A-


the rajah. In England and America, it is much
more likely that the elephant's sagacity will be
admired. I cannot vouch for the truth of the nar-
rative, though a similar incident has lately been told
in the newspapers, in which it was stated that an.
elephant with a paper-cutter tusk had been pre-
sented to Lord Dufferin, the present viceroy of


India. But, after all, cutting the leaves of a
magazine, though a very pretty accomplishment,
is no more extraordinary than walking a tight-
rope or riding a velocipede, and both of those:












. -



.

., Lh1 -'



























feats have been performed by young elephants in
this country.
It is somewhat difficult to know where to place
the limit of the elephant's ability to learn, for the
most expert trainer of the great creatures in this.
country has said that he will some day teach an-
elephant to write his name.


b-r~
~-~
--rs;
I;

;






OUR HOLIDAY PARTY.


MRS. KRISS KRINGLE.

BY EDITH M. THOMAS.


OH, I laugh to hear what grown folk
Tell the young folk of Kriss Kringle,
In the Northland, where unknown folk
Love to feel the frost-wind tingle.

Yes, I laugh to hear the grown folk
Tell you young folk how Kriss Kringle
Travels 'round the world like lone folk,
None to talk with -always single !

Would a grim and grave old fellow
(Not a chick nor child to care for)
Keep a heart so warm and mellow
That all children he 'd prepare for?

Do you think, my little maiden,
He could ever guess your wishes -
That you 'd find your stocking laden
With a doll and set of dishes?

No; the truth is, some one whispers
In the ear he hears the best with,


What to suit the youngest lispers,
Boys and girls, and all the rest with.

Some one (ah, you guess in vain, dear!)
Nestled close by old Kriss Kringle,
Laughs to see the prancing reindeer,
Laughs to hear the sledge bells jingle.

Dear old lady, small and rosy!
In the nipping, Christmas weather,
Nestled close, so warm and cozy,
These two chat, for hours together.

So, if I were in your places,
Rob and Hal, and Kate, and Mary,
I would be in the good graces
Of this lovely, shy old fairy.

Still I laugh to hear the grown folk
Tell you young folk how Kriss Kringle
Travels 'round the world, like lone folk,-
None to talk with -always single!


OUR HOLIDAY PARTY.

BY C. E. C.


THAT we should have our winter party had been
fully decided, but what kind of a party it should be
was a question that still agitated us.
But first let me tell you who "we" were, and
then I will tell you what we did. "We" were a
number of boys and girls who for several summers
had camped out together on the shore of one of
the great Lakes, and every winter we had held a
reunion, between Christmas and New Year's.
Dora wished to have us decide upon a german,
but to that the objection was quickly raised that
several of us did not dance. We thought we were
too grown-up for a bubble party, and an ordinary
fancy party seemed rather tame. Despair was
settling down upon us, when Harry said:


"Why not have all the Holidays come to-
gether? Christmas and New Year's are already
here, why not invite St. Valentine's Day, Easter,
Fourth of July, and the rest of the gala days, to
meet them ?"
We were delighted with the idea, and so after
spoiling a great deal of paper the invitations were
arranged on the following plan:
"You are invited to participate in a Camp Reunion, at the Mel-
worth Homestead, on Tuesday evening, Dec. 3oth. You will meet
the principal Holidays of the year, and they will be pleased to see
you in your interpretation of- (St. Valentine's Day)."
With one or two exceptions a boy and a girl
were asked to represent each day, and there were
two prizes offered for the best costumes.


I38


[DECEMBE~,






OUR HOLIDAY PARTY.


And now, such a plotting and planning and gen-
eral getting ready as ensued 1 Every one of us was
reading cyclopedias and studying dictionaries to
find out what Twelfth Night really meant, and
who St. Valentine i, .11 was, and how Jack
should represent May Day. It was easy enough
for a girl, but what could a boy do ?
Harry, as the host, was to be Christmas Day
and preside over a Christmas-tree.
Carl was to be St. Valentine's Day, and his time
was taken up in writing Valentines for all of us;
but he finished them all-- twenty-five of them, each
sealed with red wax, with a heart stamped on it.
The party was to be on Tuesday, and at last
everything was ready.

What a lovely sight! Is it fairy-land, or is it the
very home of the Holidays themselves? The "big
parlor" scarcely recognizes itself. Yards of ever-
green rope, festooned from the ceiling in every
direction, make it a real bower. Over one fire-
place we read Merry Christmas and over the
other, Happy New Year The floor is waxed
and shining, and in the corners are inviting seats
covered with rugs and bear-skins.
And then this fantastic company in bewitch-
ing and bewildering array! Can these really
be the boys and girls we have seen at camp in
flannel suits and Tam o' Shanters ? How can I
hope to tell you all about it?
There goes the Fourth of July. Miss Fourth is
draped in flags and trimmed with pin-wheels; she
has a gilt helmet on her head, and she is carrying
a gorgeous transparency of red, white, and blue
silk, with 1884 on one side, '76 on the next,
and a Liberty Bell on the third. St. Valentine
hands her a letter; as it is only a valentine, let us
look over her shoulder and read it with her:

' To be bound to kings and princes doth often curse a nation.
Hurrah for this, our country!-for it chose a better part.
Of its independent character, you 're a perfect presentation;
As such you have my fealty, my homage, and my heart."

What a jingling of bells the next two make !
There is no mistaking them. Dick as a Jester,
and Effie as Folly, are evidently April Fool's Day.
More bells-and here comes Mistress Christmas
Day, white and sparkling from the crown of her
powdered head to the sole of her silver boot; all
diamond dust, swan's-down, and tiny silver sleigh-
bells, she looks the very essence of Christmas. And
beside her is Carl's little sister, the baby of the camp,
dressed to represent the Night before Christmas,"
with a holly wreath on her head, another around
her skirt, and on her back are two stockings

Hung with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon will be there."


And here he comes, with toys enough in his
pack to fill forty stockings. He, too, is in white,
all trimmed with rabbit fur, and but for his
merry voice and hearty greetings, we should never
dream that it was Harry :-l.- :ri. r. so disguised
is he by his costume and long white beard. Here
are the Thanksgiving Days--Rob, as a stately
Puritan, and Lena, as a Thanksgiving dinner.
The dress she has on is over a hundred years old.
She has put a high ruff of turkey feathers in the
square neck, and more feathers in the short, puffed
sleeves. She has a necklace of cranberries, and
cranberries and celery-tops in her powdered hair.
And what has she in her hands ? Surely not a
pumpkin pie No, only a palm-leaf fan painted
to look like one; a roll of painted cotton-batting
around the edge of the fan for crust, and a knife
smeared with yellow ochre, laid on the handle of
the fan, and carefully fastened there, complete the
make-believe pie.
Standing near the fire-place, and talking to-
gether, Easter and Ash Wednesday form a charm-
ing tableau.
Ash Wednesday is dressed as a black friar;
while Easter wears a Confirmation dress, with
lilies, a white prayer-book, and a pearl rosary,-
and perched on her shoulder is a snow-white dove.
She has a basket of eggs, each one bearing an apt
quotation, one for every holiday.
Here are the St. Patrick's Days, and they look
as though they were fresh from the Emerald Isle.
Mrs. St. Patrick's Day is dressed in green, with
black-flannel serpents writhing on her skirt. She
is reading her valentine, and again we shall use
our privilege, and peep over her shoulder:

Come list to me, darlint, a tale I would tell
Of how precious ye are to me, how I love ye so well;
By all saints above us, by St. Patrick, too,
I love ye, me swateheart, and love only you.
I know your name, colleen, and would ye know moine,
Then list while I tell ye it's, jist VALENTOINE."

There is Twelfth Night walking with Election
Day. The latter is a typical Uncle Sam, and
he is constantly electioneering for his friends or
himself, as he walks about the room. Alec and
Alice come next, as Hallowe'en-Alec, with a
variety of vegetables that have a suggestively mis-
chievous look, and Alice, as a Scotch lassie. We
borrow her valentine and read :

With trick and trap of various kind,
On Hallowe'en we seek to find,
With aid from mirrors and from books,
Each how his own true lover looks.
I need no trick nor trap to see
That my fair sweetheart looks hke thee."

Mardi Gras, with a tambourine full of flowers,
passes by and pelts us with them as she goes.






OUR HOLIDAY PARTY.


George Washington, with his hatchet, walks be-
side her, a model of dignity and truth.
In the corner, seated in a rocking-chair, is the
other Washington's Birthday, Lillie, who belies
her name this time, for she has blackened her face
and is dressed as an old nurse, with bright turban,
folded kerchief, and voluminous apron, in the
corner of which is embroidered, in big red let-
ters, "VIRGINIA." She holds something that a
placard announces as the Grandfather of his
Country "-because, as everybody knew, she said,
" the child is father to the man."

I have not space to describe all the costumes,
nor give all the valentines, but must hasten to
tell of the Christmas-tree, and the voting for the
prize costumes. The ballot was presided over by


Election Day, who took one prize himself, and
the other was voted to "Virginia and the infant
George.
After supper the mysterious curtains in front of
the bay-window were drawn, and disclosed the
Christmas-tree, from which Santa Claus took
appropriate gifts for every day. A jointed snake
for St. Patrick's Day,-a silver egg for Easter; a
match-safe in the shape of a tiny pumpkin for
Thanksgiving Day,- something for every one.
Then, led by May Day, we danced around the
May-pole, winding it with its bright ribbons. But
all good times must have an end, and some one
had whispered the hour- and a very late hour it
was. So we hurried on our wraps, and as we said
good-night, we decided that of all our camp par-
ties, the Holiday Party had been the very best.


/e


~-
A:
' m!.


'A


0110




~ i,


140


[DECEMBER,


_.= *_






AMONG THE LAW-MAKERS.


AMONG THE LAW-MAKERS.*
(Recollections of a Page in the Ubnited States Senate.)

BY EDMUND ALTON.


CHAPTER XXVIII.

PAGE VERSUS PRESIDENT.

SPEAKING about receptions to distinguished pco-
pie, I should not omit one that took place some
years ago. It was during the days of the war.
General Grant was in command of the Army of the
Potomac, and one day, having occasion to come
to Washington on important business, he appeared
at the Capitol. He had come up on a tug-boat
it was said, and had evidently traveled in great haste.
He was very plainly dressed. He had on a slouch
hat, spurs jingled upon his heels, and his boots and
clothes were bespattered with mud. With his
characteristic modesty, he took a seat in one of the
cloak-rooms of the House, but some of the members
caught sight of him, and despite his remonstrance,
he was brought out upon the floor; the Speaker
left his place, and the representatives almost carried
him to the desk and deposited him in the chair,
while the air rang with a whirlwind of huzzas !
Nor was that the only reception accorded him. At
the first session of the last Congress he made a trip
to Washington as a private citizen; and, when it
was known that he was in the hall, the House,
upon the motion of Mr. Randall, took a recess for
fifteen minutes in order to give the representatives
an opportunity to shake the hand of the old hero.
And almost the last act done by the senators and
representatives of that Congress, on the 4th of
March, 1885, was to pass a bill placing him, with
the rank and pay of a general, upon the retired list
of the army.
In this connection, I may describe one other
reception memorable to me,-an occasion in
which the President and I were the central figures.
It was during the year 1876. I had almost com-
pleted my "boyhood days," and had decided to
resign my place.
When my senatorial friends heard of this, they
began to give me advice. Among other things it
was suggested that I should study law and fit my-
self to succeed one of the senators from New York.
But I was then of a roving disposition, and I pre-
ferred to be "a sailor bold, and sail the deep blue
sea." So I decided to go to the Naval Academy.
Having so determined, the next step was to carry
out my resolve.
I accordingly consulted several of the influential
senators who had manifested an interest in my


welfare, and they promptly responded to my de-
sire. It was the last year of President Grant's
administration, and there was a great pressure upon
him for all sorts of offices. But the senators told
me to go myself, nevertheless. So one balmy dayI
presented myself at the White House, and, under the
escort of a senator, I was shown into the audience-
room. Although the President had been warned
of my coming by some of the senators, he went
through the formality of asking me what I wanted.
I told him that I was hoping to be appointed as a
cadet-midshipman-at-large to the Naval Academy.
"Well," he quietly remarked, "make out
your application in black and white for just what
you want, so that I can have it before me, and
bring it here to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock."
I returned to the Senate, reported the result of
the interview, and drew up my application. Then
a senator suggested that a recommendation should
accompany it; and, drafting a testimonial, he sent
it to one of the clerks to be enrolled on parchment.
Then the senators began to sign it-Democrats
and Republicans alike, all seemed to be eager to
record their names. As I would go to one desk to
ask a senator to sign, his neighbor would call out,
" Pass it along And so it passed. I allowed a
few members of the House and other distinguished
visitors to sign it just to let them see their names
in good company. When finished, it was a formi-
dable document.
The next day, I entered the Cabinet-room in
obedience to orders. To my astonishment, it was
crowded with senators and other high officials.
As I entered, the senators smiled, and said:
" Here he is at last! which sadly unnerved me
and made me feel faint.
The President was sitting at the farther end of
his Cabinet-table with his face toward the door,
the chair on his right was occupied by a senator,
and the one next to that by a Cabinet officer.
At the request of the President, I took a vacant
chair close by and produced my apers. When
I unfurled my recommendation, the President
laughed. What 's that," he inquired,- an-
other enrolled bill to be approved ? I told him
what it was. I did n't ask you to get that," he
said; "let me see your application." I gave it
to him and he scanned it closely. Then looking
at me intently, he began some mild quizzing and
bantering. The others, taking the cue from him,
did likewise, some asking me why I did n't choose


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






AMONG THE LAW-MAKERS.


a Foreign Mission. This caused me to feel still
more uneasy, and the President observed it.
"Well," he remarked, "your application is made
out in proper form ; and, folding it up, he wrote


" do you-- do you -- ," and as I began to stam-
mer, the assemblage again smiled.
"Do I what? inquired the President.
"Well," I replied, nervously, "do you think


.. ,- .. ij



,^ "? "7*";lx- ,t4
.t:f ...i ; .: . . .. -" .
: --. I,
-. .7


*ad


. t- **, .
'


'II


THE PAGE HAS AN ADVENTURE, AS AN OFFICE-SEEKER.

upon its back exactly twenty-four words, not
including the date and the signature, "U. S.
Grant."
Of course, I did not know what he had written,
and I thought his writing on the paper was abad
omen. It looked as if the paper was to be pigeon-
holed. I had expected him to read the applica-
tion, and then say: You shall be appointed ";
and I was therefore confused by his action. I
resolved to know my fate at once.
Well, Mr. President," I exclaimed, I should
like to ask you-- "; and then I broke down
under my excitement.
What is it ?" he asked.
"I should like to ask you," I timidly resumed,


(I e whole of keoster's iictzonary.
I lien they all began to laugh; but the
i' ;dent checked them.
Yes," said he, slowly and reflectively,
yet I thought I saw his eyes twinkle as he
said it, you stand a chance. There are
only about ten thousand applicants ahead of you."
I was stupefied! I looked the President full in
the face to see if he were not in fun. But he was
as calm as the midday sky. I grasped my hat,
exclaimed, Good-morning and rose from the
chair. The room seemed to swim around me.
The senator who sat in the adjoining chair must
have noticed my pallor, for he caught me by the arm
and whispered: It's all right You'11 get it !"
Without looking at any of the others, I rushed
straight for the door. As I shut it behind me, I
heard a sound of general laughter.
Shortly afterward, the Senate adjourned sine die,
and with the close of that session my career in the
legislative councils of my country came to an end.


( To be cotiiued.)


i.jv


a1


. i,- j.I
_M
rl^ ^ -t-^-.


IDECE[MBER,






FROM BACH TO WAGNER.


FROM BACH TO WAGNER.
(A Series of Brief Pafers concerning the Greal IJMsicians.)

BY AGATHA TUNIS.


IX.-CHOPIN.

CHOPIN, alone of all the musicians, has been
immortalized through his pianoforte music. If all
the works that have ever been written for the piano
were to be swept away, his compositions would of
themselves inspire one through all the drudgery
that is necessary to master the instrument.
Nicholas Chopin, the father of the composer,
was born and educated in France, but when quite
a young man he became deeply interested in the
history of Poland, and determined to visit the coun-
try. Arriving there, he mastered the language,
and sympathized so deeply in the political strug-
gles of the unhappy people, that he twice fought
in the Polish ranks,- once during the Revolution
headed by Kosciusko, and once when Poland was
besieged by Prussia. He made three different at-
tempts to return to France, but was prevented
each time by illness, and finally decided to spend
the rest of his life in Poland. While acting as
tutor to the son of a Polish countess, he met at her
house a delicate, lovable woman named Friulein
Justina Krzyzanowska, whom he married; and
soon after accepted a position as professor of French
at one of the Warsaw academies. Nicholas Cho-
pin was a refined, lovable man of large sympa-
thies, and his home was always the resort of the
finest people in that city. There it was Chopin's
good fortune to grow up in a refined and cultivated
atmosphere, under the care of a tender, judicious
father and a loving, sensitive mother.
Frederic Chopin was born on March 1. 1809, at
a little village near Warsaw. The child's genius
was apparent in his earliest years; when scarcely
more than a baby, he was so sensitive that he wept
on hearing music; and he began to compose be-
fore he was old enough to write out the notes. He
was placed under the tuition of Albert Zwyny,
who was delighted with his little pupil's progress,
and in his ninth year he gave his first concert.
His playing on this occasion created a great sen-
sation; the most aristocratic people loved to pet
and humor him, and had it not been for his own
extremely modest disposition and the care taken
by his sensible parents, he would have been com-
pletely spoiled. He was now handed over to Elsner
to be instructed in counterpoint. This accomplished
musician and wise man soon saw the genius of his
little pupil, and what was worth much more to the


child, he appreciated how original he was in his
bent, and instead of obliging him to imitate him,
and become a second Elsner, he allowed him to
give free play to his fancy, and so helped to make
of him a Chopin. Frederic was full of high spirits,
and often amused himself by playing little practical
jokes, sometimes being joined by his sister Emily.
This sister gave as rare promise of being great in
literature as Frederic in music, but, unfortunately,
she died when only a young girl.
Chopin had a talent for seizing the ludicrous and
placing it on paper; and his power of caricaturing
on the piano was much like Schumann's. It is said
that once, when his father's pupils were becoming
very boisterous, Chopin entered the room and
seated himself at the piano. He imitated a band
of robbers breaking into a house, their escape, and
retreat to the woods; as the music grew fainter the
pupils became drowsier and drowsier until they
were all fast asleep.
Elsner, his instructor, now urged that his pupil
should be sent to Berlin, where he might hear fine
pianoforte performers ; and as Professor Jarochi, a
friend of his father's, was about to attend a philo-
sophical congress there, the parents intrusted
Frederic to his care. There he heard Mendels-
sohn and also listened to some of Handel's music,
which made a profound impression upon him.
He wrote home mirthful letters of his experiences
there. Though music was all in all to him, he had
eyes for everything there was to see, and was so
amused at the appearance of some of the German
philosophers, that he could not resist caricaturing
them on paper. With his usual modesty, he had
come to learn, and he was astounded when, at
Vienna, they actually wished him to play; after
great urging, he reluctantly gave two concerts,
at both of which he produced a remarkable sen-
sation. On his journey home, he stopped at Vienna,
Prague, Dresden, and other cities, and was ready,
on arriving at Warsaw, to settle down to hard,
steady work, while his compositions and playing
were already gaining him great fame.
In 1830 Chopin again went to music-loving
Vienna, where he met Schumann, who was one
of the first to hail him as a master; and not only
did Schumann in his journal do all in his power to
bring Chopin to the attention of the public, but
Clara Wieck, afterward Madlame Schumann, was
one of the first to play his compositions.






FROM BACH TO WAGi\ER.


a long stay in Vienna, he decided to visit
Paris, and thence proceed to London; and although
he was destined to make Paris his home, he often
said he was there on his way to London. When
he first settled in Paris, public taste was already
formed; it had its favorite players, and was slow
to applaud any new candidate, especially one so
original as Chopin. At first Chopin was a com-
plete failure; his Polish friends attended his con-
certs, but the Parisians held aloof. Wounded
and discouraged, Chopin thought of coming to
America; but his parents were so opposed to the
plan that he lingered in Paris, undecided as to what
was best; at this time, when he felt almost hope-
less, success came to him.
He disliked _, ..i1 to be obliged to play at
concerts, as many fine effects in his playing were
lost in a large hall; but, in the drawing-room,
surrounded by sympathetic listeners, his very soul
seemed to creep through his fingers and free itself
in his music. Such an opportunity came to him
at Baron Rothschild's, at an evening entertain-
ment, and as he -.i, .i, his listeners were enchant-
ed, and his future was assured. The aristocracy
showered attentions upon him, and it became fash-
ionable to possess him as a friend, or as a teacher,-
for he earned his living by taking pupils. He
shrank from playing at concerts, and, unlike most
of the masters, loved to teach. He would only
receive pupils who had ability and were thoroughly
in earnest; but, once their teacher, he had infinite
patience with all their difficulties. He insisted on
every .i,: .! being equally trained, and paid more
attention to cultivating a fine, delicate touch than
to force or velocity.
In 1832 Chopin attended the Lower Rhine Fes-
tival under the leadership of Mendelssohn, who
was delighted with his playing, and greeted him
as one of the greatest of all pianists.
Chopin's life in Paris was now a pleasant and
peaceful one. Though universally popular and
sought after by all, his chosen friends were Poles;
he preferred them as pupils above all others; he
constantly assisted them with money, and often
shared his lodging with them. He held soir6es
every evening at which, among others, one could
meet Liszt, the composer and player, Heine, the
poet, and Ary Scheffer, the painter. Liszt admired
Chopin, and the two were long intimate friends;
sometimes the spirit of mischief would seize
Chopin, and seating himself at the piano, he would


imitate every detail of Liszt's playing, very much to
the brilliant artist's amusement.
Chopin's health had always been delicate, and
finally an attack of bronchitis forced him to leave
Paris for the Island of Majorca; here he grew so
much better that in 1839 he returned home. He
failed to take proper care of himself, and again
grew worse. In spite of this, he visited London,
and although he rarely played in public, he secured
unbounded appreciation wherever he was heard.
After his return to Paris, his health grew more
and more feeble, until at last his friends felt he had
not long to live. A few days before he died, a Polish
friend sang for him, making all in the room weep.
"How beautiful! he said, and fell asleep. He
died October 17, 1849. They covered him with
flowers, especially the violet, which he best loved,
and Mozart's Requiem was sung at his funeral.
Chopin had beautiful brown eyes and a rare
musical voice. His fine education, his music, and
his fascinating manner made him a general favor-
ite, yet he always remained as modest as a child,
rarely playing at concerts, and never courting
applause of any kind. Reared in an atmosphere
of affection and refinement, he loved flowers and
music, and seemed born to the beautiful, passing
through none of the bitter struggles that Mozart
or Beethoven endured.
And yet in order that he should feel for others,
it was necessary that he should suffer. Chopin
was a Pole, in birth, education, and sympathy; he
never forgot that he was one; the sorrows of his
unhappy country were ever before him, and his
music was born of them. He was the poet of the
piano, and as all poets sing from the heart, so
he looked into his heart and played. From his
childhood Chopin must have heard the Polish
peasants singing their national songs, and dance
music, and around these he wove his wonderful
polonaises, mazurkas, ballads, and all that he wrote.
Who can tell what he might have created had he
written for an orchestra. He loved the piano.
Schumann says of Chopin that he imprisoned the
spirit-of Beethoven in the piano, and that his music
would inspire a poet to write. What must it have
been to hear him play his own music, with his
marvelous execution, and his touch, tender and
delicate. Liszt has said that no one can play
Chopin after Chopin, for no one can feel as he felt;
but as long as the pianoforte lasts, we shall long to
hear his music; he has immortalized the piano.


[DECEMBER,





SIXTEEN AND SIX.


SIXTEEN AND SIX.


Ti J fh


.1 I'


*1 J I I -I' --=-
IN,






IE '
7AC W otD
Z`
11 bfli; A
I?~~P 1U; rlk_~L

v i'.lI- -- -


VOL. XIII.-1o.


I


I'



/I~


.;i^:.
* y







THE SMALLEST DOG IN THE WORLD.


THE SMALLEST DOG IN THE WORLD.

BY C. J. RUSSELL.


NEARLY two hundred different kinds of dogs !
Think of it! And yet this is not difficult to believe;
for, we have water dogs, and watch dogs, and
sheep dogs, and fighting dogs, and pet dogs, and
sledge dogs, and carriage dogs ; big dogs and little
dogs, long-legged and short-legged dogs; dogs for
killing rats, and dogs for killing wild boars; dogs
for use, and dogs for ornament.
Sometimes the fashion has been



I ,.. .. .!F .., ., ,..
(1 ., ,. ,: -.; 1 .1 .. I 1 I ,,.. .1 % ^
1. I. i ...... r .., : t. .1 r _,
,. [I , i. u J











* '? ..i .* Ii- .: l


*$MA






Fli ru.~ ii irIP'-




-.1' c! Fr,: r i I

l;. 1.,~1-. 111~ 111 I~~r l ,,:I,..: In!!~~ l.!: 11 I i d.110 .ij I~


Sir Archibald Maclaine of England, and in honor
of his extreme tininess, is now carefully preserved
under a glass case.
Tiny was less than four inches long, and could
comfortably curl up and take a nap in a common
glass tumbler. An ordinary finger-ring was large
enough for his collar; and when he sat up, a
baby's hand would almost have made a broad and
safe resting-place for him.
FI. ,.' "' i" i,, .l .,'l. l ,| I i l ,- i .Ii ,





-' '..1 : I. l, i ,. i 2!..I I. I r. .
j I F*......

r I .. .p


i II I



*.":' I ., : i-, ,,. i , +r :,r, [ I ,, _;
1'l- I I i ivI ,.i 1
- .,


/+ - ,,1


All ,
j~ \
.. .. .


"Tiny," a black-and-tan terrier, has the honor he was usually hidden in warm
of having been the smallest full-grown dog that wraps. Of course he caught cold easily, and then,
ever lived. He belonged to Lieutenant-General oh, dear how pitifully he did sneeze !


[DECEMBER,


.*






THE ADVENTURE OF A MOUSE.


or)$


a~


A MOTHER-MOUSE, when her children had nearly
reached the age at which it became time for them
to seek their own fortunes in the world, cautioned


.- i ..

., _.-_- , ,,,. ,M ,' r] i -,, ~, .-
- -_ .t ,I .1. 1 h I 1 , ,. 1,.

cheese looks very tempting,
and is even sometimes toasted, but beware of it;
for it will bring misfortune to you."


One time the whole family of younger mice came
upon a trap. "This, I suppose," said the eldest
and wisest, is the trap against which our mother
so carefully warned us. And yet," con-
tinued he, the cheese looks very tempt-
ing. I doubt extremely if there be any
real danger in it. And even if there be,
I think that, by a proper amount of self-
control and wariness, one might avoid all
ill consequences. Because some have been
ll, caught, it does not necessarily follow that
a like fate must overtake all. At least I
shall inspect the trap to satisfy myself
whether there is really as much danger
S in it as our mother said. You know, she
is apt to be over-cautious very often." And
with this remark, in spite of the urgent
warnings of his brothers, the over-wise
S mouse deliberately entered the trap.
i I cannot see," said he, when he was
x within, that there is any real danger, and
it is very pleasant here. One need not eat
of the cheese, you know."
But even as he spoke the delicious smell
of the cheese overcame his caution; he
..:...luded there could be no danger in taking the
:.,,-,llest nibble. No sooner, however, had he
.:.,, hed the tempting morsel, than the trap fell
S1-, i he was a prisoner.
**Alas!" said he to his weeping mother, who
I1. I hastened to the trap upon learning the fate of
her son, "I now discover, when it is too late to
repent, that the experience of age is safer than the
presumptuous wisdom of youth."


147







148 FOR MIDDLE-AGED LITTLE FOLKS.


THROUGH THE REGISTER.
(A Christmas Story.)


.. HAT is Christmas
.ithoutSantaClaus?
SItlookedvery much
'.": as if Jack and
Effie Hillscombe
... were soon to find
..,t what such a
i'stmas would
I '."'"" be; for it was al-
r.:..., Christmas-eve, and
the house where the two
children lived was filled with the usual good
cheer, and all the bustle of preparing for the


great event.
Papa Hillscombe sat in the big
arm-chair putting on his slippers,
and doing his best to imagine him-
self before the great log-fire he had
known so well as a boy; for there
were no grates in the Hillscombe
house. Jack and Effie lived in a
city where, at the time of my story,
very few families had open fire-places
in their houses; and little Effie had
asked her Papa, as she kissed him
good-night: "Why, Papa, how is
Santa Claus goin' to det in when
there is no fireplace ?" This ques-
tion really puzzled Papa Hillscombe,
but he told the children that Santa
Claus would find his way in,. Id that
it would be all right in the m. rning.
But after the children had gone to
bed, a queer look came over their
papa's good-natured face, and it was
plainly to be seen that he was think-
ing of little Effie's question.
It happened, too, that the children
were not satisfied with the answer he
had given them; and while Papa was
locking up the house for the night,
and attending to the furnace, they
were still exchanging opinions on this
weighty subject from their little cots.
Suddenly Jack sat bolt upright.
He had an idea And in another mo-
ment he had toppled out of bed and
made his way on tip-toe to Effie's cot.
A whispered consultation followed,
and in a few minutes later both little


All the doors were locked, and all the windows
closed, and Papa was just shutting the iron door
of the great furnace in the cellar, when he was
startled by voices which seemed to come from
the furnace itself. For a moment he amused
himself with the fancy that Santa Claus was really
making his way in by the furnace; then he thought
he might have left a door unlocked.
The thoughts of Santa Claus or other less wel-
come visitors were, however, soon forgotten when
he heard the sound of children's voices, and found
that it was Jack and Effie who were talking.
Papa opened the furnace door again, and listened.


TWO WHITE FIGUS CT OISEL Y DN TE S E.

TWO WHITE FIGURES CREPT NOISELESSLY DOWN THE STAIRCASE.


cots were deserted, and two tiny white figures were They were evidently talking near the register,
creeping noiselessly down the staircase, for what they said was plainly heard through the


[DECEMBER,






FOR MIDDLE-AGED LITTLE FOLKS


furnace pipe by Papa Hillscombe. Jack was
saying:
0 Effie how can Santa Claus ever bwing my
big sled through the wegister? "
Or my doll's house ?" said Effie.
There was a pause, then Jack exclaimed triumph-
antly, "I know! let's take the top off."
But," said Effie, "we 're not bid enough."
Oh you 're only a dirl; I can do it."
Then followed quite a
struggle between Jack
and the "wegister," but
it was only after the
"dirl" had come to his
aid that Jack was able to
lift the iron plate; and
then Papa heard her say,
in a solemn tone: "Do
you fink, Jack, he could --
det a doll's house through ,
dat?" ?
Oh, Santa Claus can I
do anything! was Jack's I 1
comforting reply.
The two little people i -
were on their knees,
peering intently down .
the dark opening, when ".
suddenly they were star- '.
tied by a voice, which '*". .,
seemed to come up -
through the hole in the -
floor. The voice said: -S
"It 's time little chil-
dren were in bed Santa
Claus can't bring his presents up till everybody is
fast asleep "
The children could not tell the voice, as it came
up through the pipe, and with a cry of "He 's
tumming! Santa Claus is tumming!" two little


figures in white scampered upstairs and back to
their cots.
The next morning (as bright a Christmas-day
as ever dawned) found two little figures, not in
white this time, standing over a pile of pretty
presents heaped up around the register; among
which might be seen a brightly painted sleigh with
"Effie and Jack," in big gold letters, on the side,
and a wonderful three-story doll's house; and


iii
IllI
*


Jack was exclaiming in triumph : Did n't I tell
you Santa Claus could do anything "
So Santa Claus came into the Hillscombe parlor,af-
ter all, and itwas Effie andJackwho settled for them-
selves the difficult question of how he was to get in.


FIVE LITTLE BOYS.

BY E. V. S.

FIVE little boys went out to sea,
A-sailing in a dory:
At set of sun they all came home,-
Thus ends my 11i.lli.. story.


I49







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


'P"






:r-


'; ,'* ; ,- . .
.. ,, I . T '.i I

.. ... ,.




J AC- I.-IN rl HE-P' LP IT.

"'CHRISTMAS comes but once a year,' eh?"
said the Deacon, the other morning, and he added,
"Well, it seems to me the saying would apply as
well to any other of the great holidays. Who ever
heard of two Fourths of July in one year? Why,
all the '.,.;_i youngsters who have studied frac-
tions would straightway begin to claim that two-
fourths were equal to one-half, and that therefore
one-half of the whole month should be given over
to fire-crackers and rockets and torpedoes and gen-
eral tintinabulation? It would never do, I 'm sure,
to have more than one Fourth of July in the year -
no, indeed!"
Now, you may decide this question for yourselves;
but the Deacon's remarks remind me that I am
commissioned by the Little School-ma'am to say
to you all, that Mr. W. D Howells a famous teller
of good stories, I hear-is to give you, in the
very next number of ST. NICHOLAS, the full par-
ticulars concerning Christmas every day in the year.
The Little School-ma'am wishes me to bid you all
to pay special heed to this announcement, and to
look out for some very interesting points on this
momentous subject.

STEEP PASTURES.

I HAVE heard of some pretty steep pastures
:. :.:!f, but none that begin to equal those that
the Little School-ma'am was talking about the
other day. There is somewhere, it seems, a
very cold country called .. i ; and according
to her account, it must be a peculiar land in many
ways. Among other peculiarities the people there
seem unable to get along without a "j or two in
every name, and there are in that country, the
Little School-ma'an says, many inlets from the sea,
which are there called by the queer title of"fjords."
This strange country, it appears, is composed


,
'


150


[DECEMBER,


almost entirely of "fjords and mountains, which is
the reason, I suppose, why the pastures are so
steep. As I said before, too, it is a very cold
country, and so valuable is the pasturage on the
mountains rising steeply from the "fjords," that
every small patch of grass, no matter how high up on
the mountain, is occupied. The peasants will build
little farm buildings, and live there two or three
thousand feet above the water, all the year through,
despite the snows and cold of the long northern
winter, just for the sake of having a little patch of
green for a part of the year. And these meadows
are so slanting that the cattle have to be tethered
as they feed, and the little children are fastened
by ropes to stakes as they play, lest they slip and
fall down the hillside to their certain destruction.

"LOOK IT UP!"

THE Little School-ma'am wishes me to announce
from my pulpit, so to speak, the -:.-..-. -r.: piece
of good advice written by Mr. Eggleston in a book
called "The Big Brother":
"It will not harm you, boys and girls, to learn a little accurate
geography, by looking up these ,1 Fr.. .: .. ; b, ihe
story; and if I were yourschool-i. . .. .- i t I I -.l..I. I
should stop here to advise you r7
town, river, lake, mountain, or other geographical thing mentioned
in any book or paper you read. I should advise you, too, if I were
your school-master, to add up all the figures given in books and
newspapers, to see if the writers have made any mistakes; and it
is a good plan, too, to go at once to th- -~I--nr" l~1-"? '-" meet a
word you do not quite comprehend, -, ... I -lI .. o. or his-
tory, or whatever else is handy, whenever you read about anything
and would like to know more about it."


SILVER THIMBLES.

DEAR JACK: I was very much interested in the
letter from your friend, printed last month, about
the vegetable needle and thread. That needle has
an advantage over our steel needles, for I sup-
pose it can be used without a thimble. I read
somewhere, not long ago, an elaborate eulogy on
"the needle,"-the "wonder-working needle,"
as it was called; and I could n't help thinking
that this same worker of wonders would be a very
obstinate, unmanageable thing, were it not for its
long-time companion, the thimble.
And speaking of thimbles, I wonder if the ST.
NICHOLAS boys and girls have any idea how those
useful little articles are made. At all events,
I 've a mind to tell them a thing or two about
it. In the first place, a quantity of brand-new,
spick-and-span clean silver is melted down into
solid ingots. After being rolled into the desired
thickness, they are then cut into circular forms,
and a bar moved by machinery bends these round
forms into the thimble shape. They are now
ready for polishing and decorating, which work is
done on a lathe. The indentations on the end
and sides of the thimble are made by means of a
wheel with sharp points. When everything is
complete, the thimbles are boiled in strong soap-
suds, which removes all the oil and gives them a
peculiar brightness.
So much for the little thumb-bell. E. M. C.






JACK- IN -THE -PULPIT.


A LIVING BAROMETER.

DEAR JACK: Do you know that several of our
smaller animals are so sensitive to changes from
heat to cold, and from dry to moist, thatthey fore-
tell those changes some time in advance?


C.j

liii








:7-


In the Smithsonian Institution's list of animals
valuable to man, the tree-toad is mentioned as an
excellent weather-prophet, and I can testify to its
power of .-. ,i ..;,, the change in the weather. I
have in my possession a paper-weight in the form
of a bronze frog supporting upon its back a glass
tube with a bulb at the bottom. Some months


ago I was fortunate enough to catch a tree-toad,
and having heard of his ability as a weather-
prophet, I put him into my glass tube and made
from matches a small ladder so that he could
climb up or down within the tube. I soon found
that the approach of a change in the weather was







'




i i








































always noticed by the little prisoner, who climbed
toward the top whenever the air grew moist or be-
fore rain, and as invariably descended toward the
bottom of the tube in advance of the coming of
dlry weather. I send you a picture of my little
captive, ho I call y livg barometer.
















Your friend, C. F. 11.
,Ii ,








I'.'i '. i .- .


























Your friend, C. .. .


:'

I;; :






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


1a"nd. hi !k hley W ad at great ivife,
lntver ate mnustard inl dl ei.r whole Kfe-
ak 1 1meat witholut fork o- l,
SIa they loved to be Piir a- bone-e-ok.


.-- j.


I..,..


152


~~c~
SI F' CQ~
~ r i.






FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


II, -----.-
-, I. .1 j
-.


a, ,0 -nor'p- ofeo mla- :
-- -- .
a "c'VBB~A8.~.rl'EKB. zjEHGO IV '-T^ :,


-:^


i
"-C _-_ -----__ '






was Bgff anA.L hie
' i, I':


-" "u------l ;- toime robt hi m ei

H ie crept up to
-in,.mey top
Sa ^An thineru mtey
thought tWlhadhim.
TlJT h g B he )ot dIown on
S- tI o er Side,
J.AnuL Te thcy couldI
o--- -t fii, Ihr ,
-.V


V=


-1
---- _/
?
'3'
,.

-~

nd,
d


----"--------------"-p~--
:`ll~l;r~a~ ~CQ~B~Bnteeh sE~T~eS


li







THE LETTER-BOX.





EDITORIAL NOTES.


By an oversight, we omitted to state in the October number of has just been published, is intended to do this. Any mamma or
Sr. NICHOLAS that the large picture of the Parthenon at Athens, on auntie or older sister can find in this useful book carefully-planned
page 943 of that issue, was used by permission of Messrs. A. and lessons in cooking, so prepared as to render it possible to guide
C. Black, of Edinburgh, Scotland, publishers of the "Encyclopaedia the children in that most delightful of all childish mysteries--" real
Britannica," in which the illustration originally appeared. Our cooking, just like mamma's." Miss Huntington has, by simple
thanks are due to Messrs. Black, and our regret that their courtesy methods, changed cooking from a mystery to an inexpensive and
failed to receive acknowledgment at the proper time. enjoyable childish amusement, in which, during many a rainy day
or leisure hour, young girls may acquire a practical knowledge that
COOKING is as old as food, but to teach cooking to children is quite will prove very useful throughout their lives. The book will also
a new idea. Miss Huntington's book, the Cooking Garden, which be found of service by teachers in industrial schools.


THE LETTER-BOX.


CANTON, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just finished reading your nice
October number. Tl... ir .- -ii.1i 'T- Science Won the Game"
is a very good story, -... i r .I i .. -.r . 1 like to engage
in. But do you think that the ball ...I ... know it seems
to; I have often been misled myself, but think it an optical illusion.
My father has carefully studied the subject of curves," and claims
.... I .. i: fered ten dollars as apremiumat the Stark Co.
-.. ... i i-.ere are many in the county who claim to
.. .. .... ,' to try it. His test was this, namely, Put
three stakes in a row, the dots (.) representing them, the ring (o)
.. ....-,...: .. i. i... The pitcher can stand in any place back


.rc .. .. -r . J
gram. He must throi
dotted line, or so it N
ot the second, and to


wanted them, from two trees to the .r- irn rbor- ond then we were
all right. The tents are larger -... ,- m in your article,
and we had so much lacing to do that we laced in -q~.e-- ir.r.-,l
of diamonds. I have two sisters and one brother. -. ..- ..
ten and my sisters are four and nine. My y ..... i .. name
is Anna, and the other one, Marjory. I am ... il II.... .. Our
Aunty Grace, who is with us, helped ever so much. We all love
you very much, and watch for you every month. I hope Miss
Alcott will write some more stories. I do like her stories so much.
Good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS. From your little friend,
HELEN I--.


.. not be in the place represented by the dia- YONKERs, N. Y.
w the ball in the direction represented by the DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have so long enjoyed your monthly vis-
ill pass to the left of the first stake, to the right its that I feel as if I ought to write you a few lines to thank you for
the left of the third, or opposite. all the entertainment you have given me.
I always read the little letters written to you by your young
readers, and perhaps you will acknowledge this in that way.
- -- While in Saratoga I saw a very pretty summer-house made of laths
.-----. _---- and cords covered with morning-glories; I stopped to admire it, and
a little girlwho was playing about told me she had made it, and
h^ hI, d1.. k~,/- h. id ^ ^ C- T, ,. T-..i


I think some of the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS who claim to
"curve a ball may try this proof and tell the rest of us if they
succeed. Your affectionate reader, ARTHUR DART.

WE forwarded a copy of Arthur's letter to the author of the story,
who sends us the following reply, which will interest all our boy-
readers:

NEw YoaKc, October 22, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLASc: .... .1 . ,,f .1.... ,-' 1-r..
and am not surprised at i, ,.... . i I .. i..... i .. I'
doubted whether a ball c -.t. t. ..
of 1884, I devoted several weeks to working out the problem, and
satisfied myself and others that it was not an optical illusion. I
confess that I have not been able to learn why a ball curves when
thrown in a certain way, but that it does so curve I am quite sure.
An ivory billiard-ball struck sharply on one side will turn out of
its natural course before rc--h a cushion, and the same princi-
ple applies to a base-ball. I'r a globe. The points where the
thumb and finger touch are the two poles. If thrown with a jerk,
the ball revolves on its axis while in the air, and, like the ivory
billiard-ball, deviates from its course. I knowscores of pitchers who
can perform the test proposed by Arthur's 1i... 1..11 ...
if Arthur will take a trip with me to a little .1 .
the hills of New England, I can introduce t I.. i. .1- 1. 1 -.
by the aid of "science," won the game.
Yours very truly, GEORGse B. M. HARVEY.


TWINE HOUSES.

DUN1MORE, PENNSYLVANIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write and tell you about the
twine house we made, like the one mentioned in the May number
of Sr. NICHOLAS. We had neither the right kind of a tree nor the
crooked sticks; so we managed in this way: We used pointed
stakes (brother George made one hundred and twenty-three, and
was very tired of them before he had finished) with staple-tacks in
the heads of them, and Papa strung up wires for us, just as we


t at s ta t e e a in C T. ICHOLAS. t wa.t so
a. I T1 .1 d to make one next spring. Perhaps some
S ., I 1.1 to try it.
But I have now written a long enough letter, so I : i r good-
bye. Your devoted reader, A. b. STONE.


DEAR ST, NICHOLAs: I have been intending to write to you for
some time past, to tell .. 1 i . .. 11 .irhome.
S* t i t. i ,- I I .. I rofyour
: J. l ... I. ,:,,, I l. I.... 1 II .. ... r I .. 1.
ST. NICHOLAS and I i 1 i.. -. i .. ...
the two children sin ... .I '. ... .. S lovely.
I1 ';.. i . .. ii cardboardpal T1. ., .
of ;. .... i '.t the Road to .
pen and ink. It makes a lovely card if done with a very fine pen.
I hope you will find a little corner in the Letter-box for my letter. I
should like to see it in print, amazingly.
Always your fond reader, ISABEL C. A.

FORFAR, SCOTLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Many of your readers, both English and
American, have heard doubtless of heather, and of owite heather,
which even the best Scotch people believe brings good luck to
the finder.-This heather grows in small patches on some moors;
sometimes as many as fifteen or _.... ,. -r. .. .,..1 ,hle,
again, oneI .. .... ... ... I.. .. .. .11 . .. i find
the extent .I .. I. i ....... u. r place, who is very poor and
old, and to whom I often have sent food, told me one day there was
but one thing he wanted in the world. On asking what it was, he
told me he wanted a patch of land about two hundred feet square,
on one of the moors near, which he heard was very lucky. I am

.. i. i .. He was right; the white
. . : . . ..I 1... i -.bout the ground,
and I went the other day to give it to ... he may be seen
S i. seated in the grass, with his pipe, quite happy. On
.. . always gives me a bunch of pink and white heather,
mixed, and I generally put it in my dress for good luck.








THE LETTER-BOX.


Thi..1 rl ,1.: ...:.1. :.., .. ..... r your American readers,
as it' i,! I ,.:. -I I -i I .ne to England to live, I
send this line, hoping you will find some place for it in the Letter-box.
I remain, yours truly, EVELYN.

MONTREAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: For some time I have watched, but in
vain; for I I : .. .- I ... letters in your interesting pages from
this Canadia. .1 i.. i : past three years you have afforded
me much enjoyment, particularly during my free hours at a board-
,. ., 1
Your stories are so int-r-tin-- especially the papers
concerning the great musicians. i i i rownies" and their do-
ings amuse me very much; and I often copy your pretty illustra-
tions.
Now, dear ST. NICHOLAS, I shall bring my letter to an end, so
accept every good wish that you may continue and prosper, from
Youradmiring friend, BELINDA."


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you with this a little song which
can be sung by children at Christmas festivals, to the air of "Nancy
Lee." Yours truly, CHARLOTTE HAMMOND.


SANTA CLAUS.

Air: "Nancy Lee."

OF all the friends that children know,
There 's none like Santa Claus, I trow;
He 's sure to be at Christmas-trees,
For young and old he aims to please.
Oft he does slide, while children bide,
Down chimneys tall,
With lots of toys for girls and boys,
Both great and small;
Then stockings stuffs till each one puffs
Out like a ball.
All hail to Santa Claus!

CHORUS.
So Santa Claus the children's friend shall be,
In ev'ry land, on ev'ry sea;
And when, to-night, old Santa's face we see,
We '11 give him welcome warm and free.

The clock is on the stroke of eight!
Sometimes, tho', Santa Claus is late;
For lots of trees to-night there 'll be
Which our good friend must call and see.
But soon we'll hear him coming near,
There at the door.
These children all by name he 'I call,
As oft before.
For each there's here, if not 't is queer,
One gift or more.-
All hail to Santa Claus! CHoRus.



HERE are five letters, received during the first half of October.
They were written, as you will see, in various widely severed parts
of the world.

HEATHCLIFF, PLYMOUTH R., PENARTH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You are the best magazine I ever took,
and I like you very much. Your stories are simply splendid. I have
read a lot about butterflies, and seeing that Miss Helen, who wrote
an article on butterflies, could not tell what the white butterflies were,
I will tell her that they are the common garden, white, and green-
veined white. The swallow-tails are rare in England, and I never saw
one alive.
I want to tell you how I stopped a fight. It was a fight between
boys. It was n'tfair, 1 .. .. il ..1. .. i. Each round,
the little one was throv .. .... Ih .. Ii 1. .. I -t- ir
between them andface I t .-: .. ..ii ... I .. I r :1... .. lr
Thereupon they put their coats on, and went away.
You must excuse my writing, as I am in a hurry. I am only
eleven, yet I am writing a novel, and. if it were not for the fear of
being suspected of a pun, I should call it a "novel idea."
Do print this, ST. NICHOLAS. It would be such a surprise, since
I have n't had one printed before. I love you very much, and
will remain your friend and admirer, B. W.


HOBART, TASMANIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps some account of Tasmania may be
interesting to your readers. It was formerly called Van Dieman's
Land, but the name was changed to Tasmania some years ago.
The scenery is very lovely in some parts. The climate is fine, not
very hot in summer, not very cold in winter. There is very little
frost, and the geraniums and heliotropes grow into large bushes.
The fern-trees are .: i 1.. will not grow in England ex-
cept in hot-houses. I I. .' grow to a large size; we re-
cently saw a turnip in a green-grocer's window which weighed
thirty-one pounds and was fifty-four inches in :.il. ihe native
Tasmanian cherry has the stone outside the fruit. .. the wild
animalsin the bush are the Tasmanian devil, the native tiger, the
kangaroo, and the duck-billed platypus, a very .... . .
has the bill and webbed feet of a duck, and has ... I i-
i ..i-. .- .. ,...ri occur, particularly in the north part of the
S i i i- .. very fine, and there is very good boating;
we go out in a boat very often. We were born in Canada, but have
traveled about a great deal since then. We remain, your constant
readers, WILFRED AND GEOFFREY BIRD.

SHANiGHAI, July 5, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I live in Shanghai, and, as I do not go to
school or have very many playmates, you are a very w elccme friend
in this house; and I think our little English friends will enjoy you
just as much. They have no magazines in England like the ST.
NICHOLAS. My fatherlikes the Sr. NICHOLAS too, and is reading
S'. .. ,i-.. Makers."
:., ...i, .. .ry busy place, and -.--- -. .--. -.. -i-ff-
-.. i, i -. i. here, mostly Chin. .
foreigners there are more English th i i
(the Fourth of July) we bought some-.. . .. .1
fast we set some off; and in the morning I went on the U. S. man-
of-war, the Juniata "; and after dinner I : 1
with me to a place on the bank of the Soo'
a lot more. I. ,i-. ...;... had some .
subscriber, CHAiLES DEEW.
P. S. I have taken you for six months; and I am nearly ten.

HILO, HAWAII, Sept. 8, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Ycr .' comes regularly to these
Sandwich Islands, and is a '' with us all-young and
old read it. Perhaps some of your readers in America would be
amused with this composition, of one of our Hawaiian boys, who
attends our _n6rlieh-.peikn- sohnol. Arthur is 1
I. i..: r, .. I.. ..c I. he can draw i ..11 i-i.
... I. ii. i .. that no public school boy need .
He is fourteen years old. Here is his ...i .. which you nay
print if you wish. ONE, -.. READERS.
ABoUT THE LION.

THE Lion it is called the king of beasts, and it is found m Asia
and Africa, and also it is found in South Anerica. The Lion kind
is like the cat kind. It have long whiskers and have paws, and have
sharp claws, can tear the animal's body, and have big head. The
lion can carry off a Bullock. I heard if the Lion hungry would
not ... r go down where i. -i .-.i
catc ... .. .. '... the woods. I '
into the house and saw a big glass in a room, and a sleei-ing on his
bed; the man saw the Lion, he got afraid and so he sleep, and the
Lion look in the glass and saw a man, and he think the nma in side
of the glass, and so he jump in the glass, and the man Ian to get his
gun, and he shot him for two bullets and he dead, when the Lion
jump into the Looking-glass, all his face scratch up.
ARTHUR IANKFA AKAN.
Mr. LEBtANCN, SYIiA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This spring I went on a trip to Jerusalem,
with my father and mother and two other friends ; and I sliould like
to tell you about one excursion that we took, for it would take a
whole number of ST. NICHOLAS to tell all about the trip. The ex-
cursion I am going to tell you about is one we took from Jerusalem
to Bethany. We started just after lunch, on donkeys, a party of
seven. When we had come to the foot of the Mount of Olives we
stopped at the so-called sepulcher of the -.:;. : -. The monk
that kept it showed us down a long .. .' aroom which
was hung with lamps. Right across r room was stretched a cur-
tain, and on the other side we saw a stone that is said to be the sep-
ulcher of the Virgin Mary. After we had left the sepulcher, we
went to the Garden of Gethsemane, which is near by. It is kept by
a Catholicmonk. The flowers were not very beautiful, but we saw
there some grand old olive-trees, but they are not the same that
were there at the time of Christ. At intervals, ii 1. *
i...l ,.1 t the top were cases which :.. '
... .. I 1. old priest had a cat that he seemed very much
pleased to have us pet. As there was nothing more to see,
... ....,.1 .... 1 ..' 1 .--- way. When we reached the top
.1 ....... ,. i .. .... ... our 1 .1 1 went up into
a minaret, where we had a very hne view J.. I ... There was
a church there, which we went into. This church was built by a
French lady. We also saw the Lord's Prayer in thirty languages;


155






THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.


they were inscribed on tablets hung all along a corridor. After this
we went to Bethany. Bethany is a wretched, dirty place; the
houses are nothing but mud huts. As '.... .. .;.. to see, we
again mounted our donkeys and came I J:. -. -... Hoping
to see this letter in print,
I remain, your loving reader, GERTRUDE E. PORTER.


185 MADisoN AVENUE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have --t -.-r-: 1-.-- l from our sum-
mer trip, which was to Alaska and -I I *.. Park.
One morning we were on the ship in a place called Glacier Bay.
There was a very large glacier, with great masses of ice t-ir n-
off it and floating about in the water. There was a pet r. ..
board; his name was Pete, and he was a friend of all the people on
board the ship. One day he broke his rope and tumbled overboard.
He made for a cake of ice, which was two miles off The captain
stopped the ship and turned about, but soon saw that would not do,
so he put offa boat with the mate and a crew in it. The mate called
the bear's name very loud, and as soon as he heard his name, he
turned in the direction he heard the sound coming from, swam to the
boat, and when he was near enough and was about to be pulled in,
he made a most pitiful cry; so they left him alone, and he climbed in
the boat himself. The men rowed for the ship, and were hoisted up
by the davits on deck.


And now comes the funny part! When they pushed him over the
side of the boat upon the deck, he jumped through the crowd and
made all the people stampede. Then he ran at once into a lady's
stateroom, leapedinto the berth and sat on the pillow, and made the
lady run away with her little dog, much frightened. A sailor went in
with collar and a rope, put the collar around his neck, and took
him downstairs the back way; then they tied him up. PoorPcete
And he never tried to get away again.
I am five years old, but nearly six. I composed the letter, but
my mamma wrote it, as I can only print.
Yours truly, WALTER B. -- .



WE beg the young friends whose names here follow, to accept our
sincere thanks for pleasant letters received from them: L. W. F.,
Corine V. M., Mabel H. Chase, L. Jennie Judge, Harry B. Sparks,
C. G., William Edward Moss, Jessie M., Ida Ross, Kate Stebbins,
Carrie May Suits, Bella and Blanche G., Eoline Russell, Johnnie
H. Du Bois, Emily, Sam Bissell, Sadie Lewis, Sarah Raney, Egbert
B. Shepard, Margaret, Amy Chamberlain, Bert R., Amy L., Atha
H., Daisy Sharpe, Mabel S., Estelle Mann,George H. Shepard, Mar-
garet Baird, Rose Marie Louis, Ella L., Lulu C., Lena B., Florence
Wardwell, Mary W. McNair, Marie T. Morrison, Nitza and Nan,
Carrie Cargin, W. F., Florence E. Lorey.


p-7 LI e vS-?-


S



Fir-
F 1 .- R


I. '~- -- -


To ALL the Chapters and members of the
Agassiz Association, a Merry Christmas! If the
greeting is a few days too early, it is not less
sincere, and we have the satisfaction of "saying it
first!" We take pleasure in the thought that
Saint Nicholas will bring to many a stocking this
year, gifts different from those he would have
chosen before our A. A. was organized. Micro-
scopes and cameras and blow-pipes will replace
candies and toys and ear-rings, and no one will
.be less happy.
Now, as the good pastor says, "We are re-
quested to make the following announcements":

x. The paper called the- Youngt Naitralist suspended year ago.
2. Mr. Hayward has stopped the manufacture of badges and
medals, and until further notice all orders for A. A. badges may be
sent to the President.
It gives us pleasure to announce, without request, that Mr. G.
W, Altman, one of our members, won the first premium at the Erie
County fair, at Hamburg, N. Y., for his collection of insects, which
contains more than four hundred specimens.


Now that the snow and cold weather make col-
lecting difficult in the Northern States, the season
is most propitious for indoor work. All specimens
should be carefully analyzed, neatly labeled, well
arranged. It is very important to the success of
a Chapter that everything be kept in what Grand-
mother used to call "apple-pie order."
But some things can be collected in winter-
cocoons and birds'-nests are more easily found, as
they are no longer hidden by leaves. Many plants
bud in the fall and early winter, and shoots of
these gathered and kept in water in sunny windows
will blossom long before their natural time.
Strange birds occasionally visit us, either alone
or in company with snow-birds. Professor Tyn-
dall's very interesting experiments with ice may
be repeated and others invented, and then we were
to draw more snow-crystals; not for prizes this
time, but for the love of truth.
Every drawing sent in will be acknowledged,
with thanks; and one more winter ought to add


[DECEMBER,







THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.


enough forms to our collection to enable us to
draw some important generalizations. Please note,
at time of collection, simply the temperature, and
the date; and let every one try, even if he never
drew a line before Here are some of the drawings
that won the first prize last winter, and very beauti-
ful they are, painted a blue-white on a dead black.
They came from Chapter 742, Jefferson, Ohio.


In response to many requests, we append a few
questions, and we shall give credit to all who send
correct answers, unless there should be too many:

BOTANY.

I. Does the closed gentian ever open?
2. At what hour of the day does chicory open ?
3. Do the rings of a beet indicate anything re-
garding the age of the beet?
4. Is the heart of an old tree ever alive ?
5. Describe the fruit of Jack-in-the-Pulpit.
6. How can mushrooms be distinguished from
toad-stools ?
7. What is the average number of ray flowers in
the head of an ox-eye daisy?
8. Describe the fruit of trailing arbutus.

MINERALOGY.

I. What are the distinctions between minerals
and rocks?
2. What is the most common mineral?
3. What is the most widely distributed metal ?
4. How can gold be dissolved?
5. Of what mineral are ordinary dinner plates
made?
6. What is the meaning of the word amethyst ?
7. What is the streak" of a mineral?

ENTOMOLOGY.

I. What is an insect, and why so called?
2. How do insects breathe?
3. Are spiders insects,- or what?
4. How many wings has a house-fly ? A bee ?
5. How do flies walk on a ceiling?
6. Do flies have to turn over and fly backward
in order to alight on a ceiling ? or how do they ?
7. What do dragon-flies eat?
8. Give the life-history of the little black "wrig-
glers" seen in heads of the ox-eye daisy.


ORNITHOLOGY.

I. Describe the largest woodpecker.
2. Describe the egg of the smallest fly-catcher.
3. Describe the nest of the phcebe.
4. Describe the habits of the shrike.
5. Describe the song of a cat-bird.

REPORTS OF CHAPTERS.
424, Decorah, Iowa. We take this report from a very inter-
esting article contributed to the Advance of September by M. R.
Steele, an honorary member of the Chapter:
Decorah, the beautiful capital of Wilieshick County, Iowa, is
named after a chief of the Winnebago Indians. The city reposes
like a nest of birds, in -l?. valley, protected from fierce winds by
the wood-crowned I. ,i r'.. Upper Iowa River. This stream, the
most rapid branch of ti.. 7 i: : , ::.- Iowa, should not be mistaken
for the Iowa River, I, i .... south. Our river's ox-bow
sweep, inclosing rich alluvial flats, washes bluffs and slopes more
than 2oc f.._r '-. _1. The Trenton limestone, full of gigantic "straight
horns" and other silurian fossils, invites us to collect
and study these "oldest inhabitants" of the primitive ocean.
After learning the general outlines of geology, we wish to study
that of Iowa, i" rp--*.':i,- .--- -- rivers, carboniferous and other
deposits, and .. .1 I. i.. .ch.
We have twenty members, including boys and ladies, who meet
once a week, and ask and answer questions in writing. Some mem-
bers write articles for a local paper, and lead our boys to the quar-
ries in search of fossils. We hope that others may be encouraged by
the spirit and success of our Decorah members to do likewise."
The Secretary of this Decorah Chapter is Mrs. M. E. Bones.
891, Schenectady, N. Y. (A). We have increased from six to
nine members. Every other week we have debates, and the alter-
nate weeks, compositions. We have debated the questions, "Do
flying-fish fly ?" (decided in the negative) ; "Do the fore or hind legs
of a frog appear first ?" (decided that the hind-legs do); "Were the
American Indians the mound-builders? We have had composi-
tions on dragon-flies and asbestos. We are working hard at collecting
specimens to be classified in the coming winter. We have meetings
every Friday at 3 :45 p. M., and on Monday and Wednesday nights
we have reading meetings, when we read up geology and zoblogy.
-E. G. Conde, Sec.
ExCHANGES.
Shells, leaves in great variety, Indian pottery, etc., for minerals
and eggs.-Jay E. Bacon, Ormond, Florida.
Mica crystals, beryl, rose quartz, plumose mica, and trap-rock, for
marine specimens, fern impressions, zinc ore, and agates.- Mrs. E.
S. Lamprey, Acworth, N. H.
Ferns.- L. Van Ness, zo20 Green street, San Francisco, Cal.
Insects, correctlylabeled. List on application.-Ward M. Sack-
ett, Meadville, Pa.
Crcaia A nrericana," or a comparative view of the skulls of vari-
ous aboriginal nations of N. A. and S. A., pp. 297, seventy-eight
plates, and one colored map; folio. The book is in very good
preservation except that its cloth binding is gone. Original cost,
thirty dollars. Will sell for fifteen dollars, or exchange for Insect
Lives," "Child's Book of Nature," Selborne," "Parables from
Nature," and ten dollars.-A. J. Mayo, Ch. 8Io, Peru, Hillsboro
Co., Florida.
Insects and birds' eggs. Correspondence with other Chapters
desired.- N. M. Eberhart, Sec. Ch. 672, Chicago Lawn, Ill.
A dozen variously colored cubes of rosin.- Miss Jennie Judge,
i99 Waldburg Street, Savannah, Georgia.
Books to be exchanged for conchological works: Electric Light-
ing," Morton, 82; Lesquerieux, Cretaceous Flora," plates, 4to, '74;
Gentry, Life Histories of Birds "; Young's Correlation and Con-
servation of Forces"; Cove's "Birds of the Northwest," and many
others.- W. D. Averill, Chestnut Hill, Pa.
Insects, for insects. Correspondence desired with a Southern or
Western Chapter. Only satisfactory letters answered.- Henry G.
Field, Sec. Ch. 743, High School, Detroit, Mich.

NEW CHAPTERS.
voN. Name. No. of Mectmbers. Address.
887 Grinnell, Iowa. (A)....... 4..John Houghton.
888 Baldwinsville, N. Y. (A) .. 6..Rev. E. B. Parsons.
889 Schenectady, N. Y. (A)... 9..Miss Mary Landon.







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


No. Vame. No. of Members. Address.
890 Logan, Ohio. (A)......... 5..M. Harrington.
891 Schenectady, N. Y. (B)... 5..E. G. Conde.
892 Deer Lodge, M. T. (A).... 8..Miss Fannie I. Hart.
893 Watertown, N. Y. (B)...... ..Miss Constance Du Bois.
894 Warren, Mass. (A)........30.. Clarence Benson.
895 Haddonfield, N. J. (A).... 8..Miss Elvira C. M. Day, Box
x26.
896 Lake Forest, Ill. (A)...... 4..Miss Mary W. Plummer.

REORGANIZED.

147 Cleveland, O. (A)......... 4..Alfred E. Allen, 1264 Euclid
Ave.
672 Chicago (W) ............. ..Noble M. Eberhart, Chicago
Lawn, Ill.


DISSOLVED.

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
699 Odin, Pa. (A)............ 4..Victor L. Beebe.
866 Cleveland, O. (C)......... 6..C. N. Lewis. (Members all
removedfrom city.)
757 Akron, O. (A)........ 3 ..Miss Pauline Lane. (Mem-
bers all removed.)
650 Sandusky, O. (A) ........ 5..John Youngs, Jr.

All are invited to join the Association. There is no charge to new
(or old) Chapters.
Address all communications for this department to the President
of the A. A.,
MR. HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


THE RIDDLE-BOX.


1'. --T


-. -- 'F ".,






"~ oll -sli" i --- -ff 0 "


;V4Q IL; j' J~ - 4
.2 0,,- '_ ---- ._.
.1 -- or .
1J .,
,' ',-'- ; L ] '- = ;I h, 'g


p .. .. i .- , I . .- er to
.:,... I .... i :, .,,. ..-.hI ['"". I )se as-
I l r , i ]. -. 11 bstruct
I. r , I .. .. I,. I in the

The central letters of the newly formed words will spell the title
of a poem by Susan Coolidge, from which the following lines are
taken: We ring the bells and we raise the strain,
We hang up garlands everywhere,
And bid the tapers twinkle fair,
And feast and frolic-and then we go
Back to the same old lives again. BESSIE S.

A FAN PUZZLE.
a /
/. r- -.. \




X
X


FROM i to 6, importance; from 2 to 6, to entwine; from 3 to 6,
buries; from 4 to 6, pains acutely; from 5 to 6, fishes resembling
trout; from 6 to 7, a division; from 3 to 7, the point on which two
lines cut each other.
Each semicircle contains five letters. First (from i to 5), a kind
of thin muslin; second, one of ten equal parts; third, proportion;
fourth, an incident; five, a thin, woolen stuff. L. LOS REGNI.


LETTER CIRCLES.
DIVlDE each of the seventeen letter-circles in such a way that the
letters, in the order in which they now stand, will form a word. Each
of these words may be divided into two words; when properly ar-
ranged one below another, the initials of the first perpendicular line
form the title of the central picture; the initials of the second per-
pendicular line will spell a name given to the celebration of the event
pictured. GILBERT FORREST.
CROSS-WORD ENIJGTA,
MY first is in cream, but not in milk;
My second in sackcloth, but not in silk;
My third is in darkness, but not in shine;
My fourth in the "vineyards" that border the Rhine;
My fifth in the "saddle" follows the chase;
J.t sixth comes in "after" with slower grace;
1 seventh in which helps to make cheer;
eighth in a both jolly and queer,
comes with my "last" in a season bright,
When my whole floods the world with a joyous light.

TRANSPOSITIONS.
I. TRANSPOSE was solicitous to contested. 2. Transpose in that
place to the supposed matter above the air. 3. Transpose to allure
to move in a military manner. 4. Transpose measures of distance


[DECEMBER,







s885.] THE RIDDLE-BOX.


NOVEL ACROSTIC.

EACH of the words described contains five letters; the letters of
the second row (reading downward) spell a familiar word, and the
fourth, a characteristic emblem of the season.
Cross-words: I. A rascal. 2. To fetter. 3. That which is ground
at one time. 4. The circumference of anything. 5. A sacred song.
6. To scatter. 7. A worker in metals. 8. A rank of nobility. 9. A
kind of poplar. DYCIE.

PATCHWORK.

















UPPER PYRAMID. Across: I. A letter. 2. Atmosphere. 3. To
appease. 4. Soaked in liquid. Downward: i. A letter. 2. A
preposition. 3. A drink. 4. To heap up. 5. A quick blow. 6.
A pronoun. 7. A letter.
RIGHT-HAND. Across: I. A letter. 2. A printer's measure. 3.
A horse. 4. Fastened. 5. A short poem. 6. Averb. 7. A letter.
Downward: i. Tooth-shaped. 2. Young unmarried women. 3.
A word used in driving cattle. 4. A letter.
LOWER. Across: I. Matured. 2. Drawn by a rope. 3. Moist-
ure. 4. A letter. Downward: I. A letter. 2. A pronoun.
3. A capsule. 4. A water-vessel. 5. Fresh. 6. A masculine nick-
name. 7.A letter.
LEFT-HAND. Across: i. A letter. 2. A masculine nickname. 3.
Epoch. 4. A linear measure. 5. To cut off. 6. A pronoun. 7.
A letter. Downward: I. A letter. 2. To be in poor health. 3.
Very warm. 4. One who sleeps. CYRIL DEANE.


s T @ in


THE answer to the above rebus is five lines from a well-known
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes.

WORD-SQUARE.

i. Pastoral. 2. Part of the soft palate. 3. A vague report. 4.
Lengthwise. 5. Bulky. CHARLOTTF.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC. I. Primals, Republican; finals, Democratic.
Cross-words: I. RichmonD. 2. EriE. 3. PotsdaM. 4. UrbinO.
5. BaleariC. 6. LancasteR. 7. IthacA. 8. CattegaT. 9. Alta.
io. NeraC. II. Primals, Autumn leaves; finals, red and yellow.
Cross-words: i. AveR. 2. UrgE. 3. TenD. 4. UlnA. 5.
MaiN. 6. NeeD. 7. LazY. 8. EasE. o. AbeL. o. VeiL. s.
ErgO. I2. StoW.
ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.
Sing a song of sixfence, When the pie was o "penned"
A pocket full of rye, The birds began to sing:
Four and twenty blackbirds Was n't that a dainty disk
Baked in a fie. To set before a king?
GEOGRAPHICAL DIAMOND. A. 2. Arc. 3. Ammer. 4. Ar-
menia. 5. Cento. 6. Rio. 7. A.
WORD SYNCOPATIONs. Reunion of hearts. a. i.-. .- 2.
Por-tEn-ts. 3. At-tUn-e. 4. Br-aNd-ed. 5. -.1 ... 6.
S-tOw-ing. 7. C-aNn-on. 8. S-cOw-led. 9. i'- i o0.
Ma-sHe-d. s1. -tVF-li. 2 I2. Re-bAt-ed. 13. Asp-iRe-s. 14.
Pen-aTe-s. 15. i


PI. The wild November comes at last
Beneath a veil of rain;
The night wind blows its folds aside,
Her face is full of pain.

The latest of her race, she takes
The Autumn's vacant throne:
She has but one short moon to live,
And she must live alone.
DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Indian Summer-T .t : :
ANAGRAMMATICAL WORD-SQUARE. I. Snare. .1
Avoid. 4. Raise. 5. Elder.
MAGIC SQUARES. I to 9, sol ; 2 to 9, ides; 3 to q, boas; 4 to 9,
imps; 5 to 9, leys; 6 to 9, ate's; 7 to 9, teas; 8 to 9, errs Outer
square, sibilate: middle square, odometer; inner square, leap-year.
A REBUS. A fat kitchen makes a lean will.
NUMERICAL ENIGMaA. Latin quotation: "The plant which is
often transplanted does not prosper." Quotation from Disraeli:
"The secret of success is constancy to purpose


THE names of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New-York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were -.. .f .. October 20, from B. L. Z. Bub "- Loulu May
- Maud E. Palmer Paul Reese-" Hill-to, -. White Ovingtor. I .... .. Joe-- i May Turrill -" SanAnselmmo
Valley"-" B. L. Z. B." Woodbury-" The C ..... Sandyside -Judith- r i ellic city Trotwood "-" he Aztecs"
- Francis W. Islip Nearthebay "-" Nippy Doo and Fidrie Aye "- B. Y. I ,...,,: Fanny R. Jackson.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October 20, from Goosie and Adolphus," 2--Lulu, 7-
Anna M. Tuttle, 2 Horace F. Lunt, Jack, Morris, and Mamma, Hattie B. Weil, I Chiddingstone, 5 T. L. S., 4 Nellie
Brice, i James Gillin, 2 -J. Haney, 3- Old Man P.," -- Charles Howard Williams, - Louise Joynes, 4- Ellery Sedgwick, 3-
"The Marsh-man," i Sam Bissell. 3 Nina and Ethel, 4 Effe K. Talboys, 7 Carrie Cargin, i Marion and Albert Williams, 2-
Janey M. Hutchinson, Hessey D. Boylston, 2-" Pocahontas," I-" 'ni-- t 6-Carey E. Melville, 9- Ethel Camp, i- Seal-
skin," I-" Pepper and Maria." 6 Emma St. C. Whitney, 8-S. S., 8- I i i --"Jack Sprat," 6-Clarice M. Petremnnt, 3
A Six-year-old, Carrie C. Howard, 6 Eleanor and Maude Peart, 6- "Old Carthusian," 4 E. Muriel, M. i .. and of. W.
Grundy, 7- 1 i:. I .7. Olive and Ida Gibson. 4 Jennie, Papa, and Mamma, 9 George T. Bourne, i ra ford,
I-Mary B., .i, i-i I .- E. Howell. 7-Fred A. Hamilton, s -Mary P. Stockett, 7-Tom W. I. 4 Kate Lo ett, 7-
Hallie Couch, 7- Lizzic A. Atwater, 6 --L. L. R.. 4 Agnes W. Thomas, 8 -" Katy i 6.







16o ST. NICHOLAS. [DECEMBER.





--------------------------------------






*:/ IIOI

1I ,







'.. ..... .






I I E, .. .W .






I j







SANTA CLAUS: "'HERE 'S A STATE OF THINGS!'HOW IN THE WORLD AM I EVER TO GET DOWN THERE?"




























































































































































































































.....................