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"'I AM SURE YOU ARE A PRINCE,' SAID THE PRINCESS."

[SEE PAGE 406.1

C

ST. NICHOLAS.

APRIL, 1886.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]

CASPERL.

BY H. C. BUNNER.

CASPERL was a wood-chopper, and the son of a
wood-chopper, and although he was only eighteen
when his father died, he was so strong and active,
that he went on chopping and hauling wood for
the whole neighborhood, and people said he did
it quite as well as his father, while he was certainly
a great deal more pleasant in his manner and much
more willing to oblige others.
It was a poor country, however, for it was right
in the heart of the Black Forest, and there were
more witches and fairies and goblins there than
healthy human beings. So Casperi scarcely made
a living, for all he worked hard and rose up early
in the morning, summer and winter. His friends
often advised him to go to some better place,
where he could earn more money; but he only
shook his head and said that the place was good
enough for him.
He never told any one, though, why he loved
his poor hut in the depths of the dark forest, be-
cause it was a secret which he did not wish to
share with strangers. For he had discovered, a
mile or two from his home, in the very blackest
part of the woods, an enchanted mountain. It
was a high mountain, covered with trees and rocks
and thick, tangled undergrowth, except at the very
top, where there stood a castle surrounded by
smooth, green lawns and beautiful gardens, which
were always kept in the neatest possible order,
although no gardener was ever seen.
This enchanted mountain had been under a
spell for nearly two hundred years. The lovely

Princess who lived there had once ruled the whole
country. But a powerful and wicked magician dis-
guised himself as a prince, and made love to her.
At first the Princess loved her false suitor; but
one day she found out that he was not what he
pretended to be, and she told him to leave her and
never to come near her again.
For you are not a prince," she said. You
are an impostor, and I will never wed any but a
true prince."
"Very well," said the magician, in a rage.
"You shall wait for your true prince, if there is
such a thing as a true prince; and you shall marry
no one till he comes."
And then the magician cast a spell upon the
beautiful castle on the top of the mountain, and
the terrible forest sprang up about it. Rocks
rose up out of the earth and piled themselves in
great heaps among the tree-trunks. Saplings
and brush and twisted, poisonous vines came
to fill up every crack and crevice, so that no mor-
tal man could possibly go to the summit, except by
one path, which was purposely left clear. And in
that path there was a gate that the strongest man
could not open, it was so heavy. Farther up the
mountain-slope, the trunk of a tree lay right across
the way,-a magic tree, that no one could climb
over or crawl under or cut through. And beyond
the gate and the tree was a dragon with green
eyes that frightened away every man that looked
at it.
And there the beautiful Princess was doomed to

VOL. XIII.

No. 6.

CASPERL.

live until the true prince should arrive and over-
come these three obstacles.
Now, although none of the people in the forest,
except Casperl, knew of the mountain or the Prin-
cess, the story had been told in many distant
countries, and year after year young princes came
from all parts of the earth to try to rescue the
lovely captive and win her for a bride. But, one
after the other, they all tried and failed,-the best
of them could not so much as open the gate.
And so there the Princess remained, as the years
went on. But she did not grow any older, or any
less beautiful, for she was still waiting for the True
Prince, and she believed that some day he would
come.
This was what kept Casperl from leaving the
Black Forest. He was sorry for the Princess, and
he hoped some day to see her rescued and wedded
to the True Prince.
Every evening, when his work was done, he would
walk to the foot of the mountain, and sit down on
a great stone, and look up to the top, where the
Princess was walking in her garden. And as it was
an enchanted mountain, he could see her clearly,
although she was so far away. Yes, he could see her
face as well as though she were close by him, and
he thought it was truly the loveliest face in the
world.
There he would sit and sadly watch the princes
who tried to climb the hill. There was scarcely a
day that some prince from a far country did not
come to make the attempt. One after another,
they would arrive with gorgeous trains of followers,
mounted on fine horses, and dressed in costumes
so magnificent that a plain cloth-of-gold suit
looked shabby among them. They would look up
to the mountain-top and see the Princess walking
there, and they would praise her beauty so warmly
that Casperl, when he heard them, felt sure he was
quite right in thinking her the loveliest woman in
the world.
But every prince had to make the trial by him-
self. That was one of the conditions which the
magician made when he laid the spell upon the
castle; although Casperl did not know it.
And each prince would throw off his cloak, and
shoulder a silver or gold-handled ax, and fasten
his sword by his side, and set out to climb the hill,
and open the gate, and cut through the fallen tree,
and slay the dragon, and wed the Princess.
Up he would go, bright and hopeful, and tug
away at the gate until he found that he could do
nothing with it, and then he would plunge into
the tangled thickets of underbrush, and try his
best to fight his way through to the summit.
But every one of them came back, after a while,
with his fine clothes torn and his soft skin

scratched, all tired and disheartened and worn out.
And then he would look spitefully up at the
mountain, and say he did n't care so much about
wedding the Princess, after all; that she was only
a common enchanted princess, just like any other
enchanted princess, and really not worth so much
trouble.
This would grieve Casperl, for he could n't help
thinking that it was impossible that any other
woman could be as lovely as his Princess. You
see, he called her his Princess, because be took
such an interest in her, and he did n't think there
could be any harm in speaking of her in that way,
just to himself. For he never supposed she could
even know that there was such a humble creature
as poor young Casperl, the wood-chopper, who sat
at the foot of the hill and looked up at her.
And so the days went on, and the unlucky princes
came and went, and Casperl watched them all.
Sometimes he saw his Princess look down from
over the castle parapets, and eagerly follow with
her lovely eyes the struggles of some brave suitor
through the thickets, until the poor Prince gave
up the job in despair. Then she would look sad
and turn away. But generally she paid no atten-
tion to the attempts that were made to reach her.
That kind of thing had been going on so long that
she was quite used to it.
By and by, one summer evening, as Casperl sat
watching, there came a little prince with a small
train of attendants. He was rather undersized for
a prince; he did n't look strong, and he did look
as though he slept too much in the morning and
too little at night. He slipped off his coat, how-
ever, and climbed up the road, and began to push
and pull at the gate.
Casperl watched him carelessly for a while, and
then, happening to look up, he saw that the
Princess was gazing sadly down on the poor little
Prince as he tugged and toiled.
And then a bold idea came to Casperl. Why
should n't he help the Prince? He was young
and strong; he had often thought that, if he were
a prince, a gate like that should not keep him
away from the Princess. Why, indeed, should he
not give his strength to help to free the Princess?
And he felt a great pity for the poor little Prince,
too.
So he walked modestly up the hill and offered
his services to the Prince.
"Your Royal Highness," he said, I am only
a wood-chopper; but, if you please, I am a strong
wood-chopper, and perhaps I can be of use to
you."
But why should you take the trouble to help
me?" inquired the Prince. "What good will
it do you?"

[APRIL,

404

CASPERL.

Oh, well!" said Casperl, "it's helping the
Princess, too, don't you know ?"
"No, I don't know," said the Prince. How-
ever, you may try what you can do. Here, put
your shoulder to this end of the gate, and I will
stand right behind you."
Now, Casperi did not know that it was forbid-

_'I ...

--K ---
"'COURAGE, YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS!' SAID CASPERL. 'WE

den to any suitor to have help in his attempt to
climb the hill. The Prince knew it, though, but
he said to himself, When I am through with
this wood-chopper I will dismiss him, and no

and pushed with all his might. It was very heavy,
but after a while it began to move a little.
Courage, your Royal Highness !" said Casperl.
We '11 move it, after all." But if he had looked
over his shoulder, he would have seen that the little
Prince was not pushing at all, but that he had
put on his cloak, and was standing idly by, laugh-
ing to himself at the
S-- .-. way he was making a
1' 1.: wood-chopper do his
r work for him.
n After a long strug-
,,i gle, the gate gave way,
Sand swung open just
--:~- wide enough to let them
through. It was a close
squeeze for the Prince;
'''-.- but Casperl held the
S 1 gate open until he
slipped through.
S '" "Dear me," said the
Prince, you 're quite
1" 7 a strong fellow. You
really were of some
assistance to me. Let
i me see, I think the
i 'stories say something
about a tree, or some
such thing, farther up
S i'- .- the road. As you are a
S wood-chopper, and as
you have your ax with
S you, perhaps you might
walk up a bit and see
if you can't make your-
self useful."
Casperl was quite
I.,for he beganto
feel that he was doing
something for the Prin-
SI cess, and it pleased him
-- to think that even a
x wood-chopper could do
0 her a service.
So they walked up un-
LL MOVE IT AFTER ALL.' til they came to the tree.
And then the Prince
drew out his silver ax, and sharpened it ,ii1 on
the sole of his shoe, while Casperl picked up a stone
and whetted his old iron ax, which was all he had.
"Now," said the Prince, "let's see what we

one will know anything about it. I can never lift can do."
this gate by myself I will let him do it for But he really did n't do anything. It was Cas-
me, and thus I shall get the Princess, and he will perl who swung his ax and chopped hard at the
be just as well satisfied, for he is only a wood- magic tree. Every blow made the chips fly; but
chopper." the wood grew instantly over every cut, just as
So Casperl put his broad shoulder to the gate though he had been cutting into water.

CASPERL.

For a little while the Prince amused himself by
trying first to climb over the tree, and then to
crawl under it. But he soon found that whichever
way he went, the tree grew up or down so fast that
he was shut off. Finally he gave it up, and went and
lay down on his back on the grass, and watched
Casperl working.
And Casperl worked hard. The tree grew fast;
but he chopped faster. His forehead was wet and
his arms were tired, but he worked away and
made the chips fly in a cloud. He was too busy
to take the time td look over his shoulder, so he
did not see the Prince lying on the grass. But
every now and then he spoke cheerily, saying,
" We '11 do it, your Royal Highness "
And he did it, in the end. After a long, long
while, he got the better of the magic tree, for he
chopped quicker than it could grow, and at last he
had cut a gap right across the trunk.
The Prince jumped up from the grass and leaped
nimbly through, and Casperl followed him slowly
and sadly, for he was tired, and it began to occur
to him that the Prince had n't said anything about
the Princess, which made him wonder if he were
the True Prince, after all. I'm afraid," he thought,
" the Princess wont thank me if I bring her a
prince who does n't love her. And it really is
very strange that this Prince has n't said a word
about her."
So he ventured to remark, very meekly:
Your Royal Highness will be glad to see the
Princess."
Oh, no doubt," said the Prince.
And the Princess will be very glad to see your
Royal Highness," went on Casperl.
Oh, of course said the Prince.
And your Royal Highness will be very good
to the Princess," said Casperl further, by way of a
hint.
I think," said the Prince, that you are talk-
ing altogether too much about the Princess. I
don't believe I need you any more. Perhaps you
would better go home. I 'm much obliged to you
for your assistance. I can't reward you just now,
but if you will come to see me after I have mar-
ried the Princess, I may be able to do something
for you."
Casperl turned away, somewhat disappointed,
and was going down the hill, when the Prince
called him back.
Oh, by the way he said; there 's a dragon,
I understand, a little farther on. Perhaps you 'd
like to come along and see me kill him?"
Casperl thought he would like to see the Prince

do something for the Princess, so he followed
meekly on. Very soon they came to the top of
the mountain, and saw the green lawns and beauti-
ful gardens of the enchanted castle,-and there
was the dragon waiting for them.
The dragon reared itself on its dreadful tail,.
and flapped its black wings; and its great green,.
shining, scaly body swelled and twisted, and it
roared in a terrible way.
The little Prince drew his jeweled sword and
walked slowly up to the monster. And then the
great beast opened its red mouth and blew out one'
awful breath, that caught the Prince up as if he
were a feather, and whisked him clear off the
mountain and over the tops of the trees in the
valley, and that was the last any one ever saw of
him.
Then Casperl grasped his old ax and leaped
forward to meet the dragon, never stopping to.
think how poor his weapon was. But all of a sud-
den the dragon vanished and disappeared and was.
gone, and there was no trace of it anywhere;
but the beautiful Princess stood in its place and
smiled and held out her white hand to Casperl.
My Prince she said, so you have come at
last I"
I beg your gracious Highness's pardon," said
Casperl; "but I am no Prince."
Oh, yes, you are i" said the Princess; how
did you come here, if you are not my True Prince ?
Did n't you come through the gate and across the
tree, and have n't you driven the dragon away?"
"I only helped-- began Casperl.
"You did it all," said the Princess, for I saw
you. Please don't contradict a lady."
'"But I don't see how I could-- Casperl
began again.
"People who are helping others," said the
Princess, "often have a strength beyond their
own. But perhaps you did n't come here to help
me, after all?"
Oh, your gracious Highness," cried Casperl,
" there 's nothing I would n't do to help you. But
I 'm sure I 'm not a Prince."
And I am sure you are," said the Princess, and
she led him to a fountain near by, and when he
looked at his reflection in the water, he saw that
he was dressed more magnificently than any prince
who ever yet had come to the enchanted mountain.
And just then the wedding-bells began to ring,
and that is all I know of the fairy story, for Casperl
and the Princess lived so happily ever after in the
castle on top of the mountain, that they never came
down to tell the rest of it.

406

[APRIL,

AN APRIL DAY.

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AN APRIL DAY.

BY SARA M. CHATFIELD.

OH, we went picking daffodils,
My little love and I!
A blue-bird sang upon the fence;
White clouds were riding high,
On a sunny April morning,
With soft winds blowing by.

Oh, we went out to count the stars,
My little love and I!
" 0 Mamma, see, the daffodils
Are blowing in the sky !"
On a cool, sweet April evening,
When shadows hovered nigh.

407

408 LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY. [APRIL,

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.

CHAPTER VI.

l! i I-' j; Lord Fauntleroy wakened in
l. morning,-he had not wak-
I I i' .ed at all when he had been
i: 'ried to bed the night before,-
.. % first sounds he was conscious
were the crackling of a wood
._..- _j lhe and the murmur of voices.
"You will be careful, Dawson, not to say any-
thing about it," he heard some one say. He
does not know why she is not to be with him, and
the reason is to be kept from him."
If them 's his lordship's orders, mem," another
voice answered, "they '11 have to be kep', I sup-
pose. But, if you '11 excuse the liberty, mem, as

it 's between ourselves, servant or no servant, all
I have to say is, it's a cruel thing,-parting that
poor, pretty, young widdered cre'tur' from her own
flesh and blood, and him such a little beauty and
a nobleman born. James and Thomas, mem, last
night in the servants' hall, they both of 'em say as
they never see anything in their two lives -nor yet
no other gentleman inlivery-like thatlittle fellow's
ways, as innercent an' polite an' interested as if
he 'd been sitting there diningwith his best friend,
- and the temper of a' angel, instead of one (if
you'll excuse me, mem), as it 's well known, is
enough to curdle your blood in your veins at times.
And as to looks, mem, when we was rung for,
James and me, to go into the library and bring
him upstairs, and James lifted him up in his arms,
what with his little innercent face all red and rosy,
and his little head on James's shoulder and his hair
hanging down, all curly an' shinin', a prettier, tak-
iner sight you 'd never wish to see. An' it 's my
opinion, my lord was n't blind to it neither, for he
looked at him, and he says to James, See you
don't wake him he says."
Cedric moved on his pillow, and turned over,
opening his eyes.
There were two women in the room. Everything
was bright and cheerful with i., -0.. .:i.:l chintz.
There was a fire on the hearth, and the sunshine was
streaming in through the ivy-entwined windows,
Both women came toward him, and he saw that one
of them was Mrs. Mellon, the housekeeper, and the
other a comfortable, middle-aged woman, with a
face as kind and good-humored as a face could be.
"Good-morning, my lord," said Mrs. Mellon.
" Did you sleep well? "
His lordship rubbed his eyes and smiled..
"Good-morning," he said. "I did n't know I
was here."
"You were carried upstairs when you were
asleep," said the housekeeper. This is your
bedroom, and this is Dawson, who is to take care
of you."
Fauntleroy sat up in bed and held out his hand
to Dawson, as he had held it out to the Earl.
How do you do, ma'am?" he said. "I 'm
much obliged to you for coming to take care of me."
"You can call her Dawson, my lord," said the
housekeeper with a smile. She is used to being
called Dawson."
"Miss Dawson, or AMrs. Dawson ? inquired his
lordship.

408

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

[APRIL,

II

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

Just Dawson, my lord," said Dawson herself,
beaming all over. "Neither Miss nor Missis,
bless your little heart Will you get up now, and
let Dawson dress you, and then have your breakfast
in the nursery? "
"I learned to dress myself many years ago,
thank you," answered Fauntleroy. "Dearest
taught me. 'Dearest' is my mamma. We had only
Mary to do all the work,-washing and all,-and
so of courseit would n't do to give her so much
trouble. I can take my bath, too, pretty well if
you '11 just be kind enough to 'zamine the corners
after I 'm done."
Dawson and the housekeeper exchanged glances.
"Dawson will do anything you ask her to,"
said Mrs. Mellon.
That I will, bless him," said Dawson, in her
comforting, good-humored voice. He shall dress
himself if he likes, and I'll stand by, ready to help
him if he wants me."
"Thank you," responded Lord Fauntleroy; "it's
a little hard sometimes about the buttons, you know,
and then I have to ask somebody."
He thought Dawson a very kind woman, and be-
fore the bath and the dressing were finished they
were excellent friends, and he had found out a
great deal about her. He had discovered that her
husband had been a soldier and had been killed
in a real battle, and that her son was a sailor, and
was away on a long cruise, and that he had seen
pirates and cannibals and Chinese people and
Turks, and that he brought home strange shells and
pieces of coralwhich Dawson was ready to show at
any moment, some of them being in her trunk.
All this was very interesting. He also found out
that she had taken care of little children all her
life, and that she had just come from a great house
in another part of England, where she had been
taking care of a beautiful little girl whose name
was Lady Gwyneth Vaughn.
And she is a sort of relation of your lordship's,"
,said Dawson. "And perhaps some time you may
see her."
"Do you think I shall? said Fauntleroy. I
:should like that. I never knew any little girls, but
I always like to look at them."
When he went into the adjoining room to take
his breakfast, and saw what a great room it was,
and found there was another adjoining it which
Dawson told him was his also, the feeling that he
was very small indeed came over him again so
strongly that he confided it to Dawson, as he sat
down to the table on which the pretty breakfast
service was arranged.
I am a very little boy," he said rather wistfully,
to live in such a large castle, and have so many
,big rooms,- Don't you think so ?"

"Oh come!" said Dawson, "you feel just a
little strange at first, that's all; but you '11 get over
that very soon, and then you '11 like it here. It 's
such a beautiful place, you know."
It 's a very beautiful place, of course," said
Fauntleroy, with a little sigh; "but I should like
it better if I did n't miss Dearest so. I always
had my breakfast with her in the morning, and
put the sugar and cream in her tea for her, and
handed her the toast. That made it very sociable,
of course."
"Oh, well!" answered Dawson, comfortably,
"you know you can see her every day, and there's
no knowing how much you '11 have to tell her.
Bless you t wait till you've walked about a bit and
seen things,-the dogs, and the stables with all
the horses in them. There 's one of them I know
you '11 like to see- "
Is there ?" exclaimed Fauntleroy ; I 'm very
fond of horses. I was very fond of Jim. He was
the horse that belonged to Mr. Hobbs' grocery
wagon. He was a beautiful horse when he was n't
balky."
Well," said Dawson, you just wait till
you 've seen what 's in the stables. And, deary
me, you have n't looked even into the very next
room yet "
"What is there?" asked Fauntleroy.
"Wait until you 've had your breakfast, and
then you shall see," said Dawson.
At this he : rn ,ii.1. began to grow curious, and
he applied himself assiduously to his breakfast.
It seemed to him that there must be something
worth looking at, in the next room; Dawson had
such a consequential, mysterious air.
Now then," he said, slipping off his seat a few
minutes later; "I 've had enough. Can I go
and look at it?"
Dawson nodded and led the way, looking more
mysterious and important than ever. He began
to be very much interested indeed.
When she opened the door of the room, he
stood upon the threshold and looked about him in
amazement. He did not speak; he only put his
hands in his pockets and stood there flushing up
to his forehead and looking in.
He flushed up because he was so surprised and,
for the moment, excited. To see such a place was
enough to surprise any ordinary boy.
The room was a large one, too, as all the rooms
seemed to be, and it appeared to him more beautiful
than the rest, only in a different way. The furniture
was not so massive and antique as was that in the
rooms he had seen downstairs; the draperies and
rugs and walls were brighter; there were shelves
full of books, and on the tables were numbers of
toys,- beautiful, ingenious il, -_.--such as he

409

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

had looked at with wonder and delight through
the shop windows in New York.
"It looks like a boy's room," he said at last,
catching his breath a little. Whom do they
belong to ? "
Go and look at them," said Dawson. They
belong to you "
To me he cried; to me ? Why do they
belong to me? Who gave them to me?" And
he sprang forward with a gay little shout. It
seemed almost too much to be believed. It was
Grandpapa he said, with his eyes as bright as
stars. I know it was Grandpapa! "
Yes, it was his lordship," said Dawson; and
if you will be a nice little gentleman, and not fret
about things, and will enjoy yourself, and be happy
all the day, he will give you anything you ask
for."
It was a tremendously exciting morning. There
were so many things to be examined, so many
experiments to be tried; each novelty was so
absorbing that he could scarcely turn from it to
look at the next. And it was so curious to know
that all this had been prepared for himself alone;
that, even before he had left New York, people had
come down from London to arrange the rooms
he was to occupy, and had provided the books and
playthings most likely to interest him.
Did you ever know any one," he said to Daw-
son, "who had such a kind grandfather "
Dawson's face wore an uncertain expression for
a moment. She had not a very high opinion of
his lordship the Earl. She had not been in the
house many days, but she had been there long
enough to hear the old nobleman's peculiarities
discussed very freely in the servants' hall.
An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered
hold fellows it was ever my hill-luck to wear livery
underr" the tallest footman had said, "he 's the
wiolentest and wust by a long shot."
And this particular footman, whose name was
Thomas, had also repeated to his companions
below stairs some of the Earl's remarks to Mr.
Havisham, when they had been discussing these
very preparations.
Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with
toys," my lord had said. "Give him whatwill amuse
him, and he '11 forget about his mother quickly
enough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other
things, and we shall have no trouble. That 's boy
nature."
So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object
in view, it did not please him so very much to find
it did not seem to be exactly this particular boy's
nature. The Earl had passed a bad night and had
spent the morning in his room; but at noon, after
he had lunched, he sent for his grandson.

Fauntleroy answered the summons at once. He
came down the broad staircase with a bounding
step; the Earl heard him run across the hall, and
then the door opened and he came in with red
cheeks and sparkling eyes.
I was waiting for you to send for me," he said.
"I was ready a long time ago. I 'm ever so much
obliged to you for all those things I 'm ever so
much obliged to you I have been playing with
them all the morning."
Oh !" said the Earl, you like them, do
you?"
"I like them so much-well, I could n't tell
you how much!" said Fauntleroy, his face glow-
ing with delight. There 's one that's like base-
ball, only you play it on a board with black and
white pegs, and you keep your score with some
counters on a wire. I tried to teach Dawson, but
she could n't quite understand it just at first-you
see, she never played base-ball, being a lady; and
I 'm afraid I was n't very good at explaining it to
her. But you know all about it, don't you?"
I 'm afraid I don't," replied the Earl. It 's
an American game, is n't it? Is it something
like cricket?"
"I never saw cricket," said Fauntleroy; "but
Mr. Hobbs took me several times to see base-ball.
It's a splendid game. You get so excited Would
you like me to go and get my game and show it
to you? Perhaps it would amuse you and make
you forget about your foot. Does your foot hurt
you very much this morning ? "
More than I enjoy," was the answer.
Then perhaps you could n't forget it," said the
little fellow, anxiously. "Perhaps it would bother
you to be told about the game. Do you think it
would amuse you, or do you think it would bother
you?"
Go and get it," said the Earl.
It certainly was a novel entertainment this,-
making a companion of a child who offered to
teach him to play games,-but the very novelty of
it amused him. There was a smile lurking about
the Earl's mouth when Cedric came back with the
box containing the game, in his arms, and an ex-
pression of the most eager interest on his face.
May I pull that little table over here to your
chair?" he asked.
Ring for Thomas," said the Earl. He will
place it for you."
Oh, I can do it myself," answered Fauntleroy.
It 's not very heavy."
"Very well," replied his grandfather. The
lurking smile deepened on the old man's face
as he watched the little fellow's preparations;
there was such an absorbed interest in them. The
small table was dragged forward and placed by his

41o

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

chair, and the game taken from its box and ar-
ranged upon it.
It 's very interesting when you once begin,"
said Fauntleroy. You see, the black pegs can
be your side and the white ones mine. They 're
men, you know, and once 'round the field is a home
run and counts one-and these are the outs-and
here is the first base and that 's the second and
that's the third and that 's the home-base."
He entered into the details of explanation with
the greatest animation. He showed all the atti-
tudes of pitcher and catcher and batter in the real
game, and gave a dramatic description of a won-
derful hot ball" he had seen caught on the glor-
ious occasion on which he had witnessed a match
in company with Mr. Hobbs. His vigorous, grace-
ful little body, his eager gestures, his simple enjoy-
ment of it all, were pleasant to behold.
When at last the explanations and illustrations
were at an end and the game began in good earn-
est, the Earl still found himself entertained. His
young companion was wholly absorbed; lie played
with all his childish heart; his gay little laughs
when he made a good throw, his enthusiasm over
a home run," his impartial delight over his own
good luck or his opponent's, would have given a
flavor to any game.
If, a week before, any one had told the Earl of
Dorincourt that on that particular morning he
would be forgetting his gout and his bad temper
in a child's game, played with black and white
wooden pegs, on a gayly painted board, with a
curly-headed small boy for a companion, he would
without doubt have made himself very unpleasant;
and yet he certainly had forgotten himself when
the door opened and Thomas announced a
visitor.
The visitor in question, who was an elderly gen-
tleman in black, and no less a person than the
clergyman of the parish, was so startled by the
amazing scene which met his eye, that he almost
fell back a pace, and ran some risk of colliding
with Thomas.
There was, in fact, no part of his duty that the
Reverend Mr. Mordaunt found so decidedly un-
pleasant as that part which compelled him to call
upon his noble patron at the Castle. His noble
patron, indeed, usually made these visits as disa-
greeable as it lay in his lordly power to make them.
He abhorred churches and charities, and flew into
violent rages when any of his tenantry took the
liberty of being poor and ill and needing assistance.
When his gout was at its worst, he did not hesitate
to announce that he would not be bored and irri-
tated by being told stories of their miserable mis-
fortunes ; when his gout troubled him less and he
was in a somewhat more humane frame of mind,

he would perhaps give the rector some money,
after having bullied him in the most painful man-
ner, and berated the whole parish for its shiftless-
ness and imbecility. But, whatsoever his mood, he
never failed to make as many sarcastic and embar-
rassing speeches as possible, and to cause the Rev-
erend Mr. Mordaunt to wish it were proper and
Christian-like to throw something heavy at him.
During all the years in which Mr. Mordaunt had
been in charge of Dorincourt parish, the rector
certainly did not remember having seen his lord-
ship, of his own free will, do any one a kindness,
or, under any circumstances whatever, show that
he thought of any one but himself.
He had called to-day to speak to him of a
specially pressing case, and as he had walked up
the avenue, he had, for two reasons, dreaded his
visit more than usual. In the first place, he knew
that his lordship had for several days been suffer-
ing from the gout, and had been in so villainous
a humor that rumors of it had even reached the
village-carried there by one of the young women
servants, to her sister, wlio kept a little shop and
retailed darning-needles and cotton and pepper-
mints and gossip, as a means of earning an
honest living. What Mrs. Dibble did not know
about the Castle and its inmates, and the farm-
houses and their inmates, and the il I.. and
its population, was really not worth being talked
about. And of course she knew everything about
the Castle, because her sister Jane Shorts was
one of the upper housemaids, and was very
friendly and intimate with Thomas.
And the way his lordship do go on said Mrs.
Dibble, over the counter, and the way he do use
language, Mr. Thomas told Jane herself, no flesh
and blood as is in livery could stand--for throw
a plate of toast at Mr. Thomas, hisself, he did,
not more than two days since, and if it were n't for
other things being agreeable and the society below
stairs most genteel, warning would have been gave
within a' hour "
And the rector had heard all this, for somehow
the Earl was a favorite black sheep in the cottages
and farmhouses, and his bad behavior gave many
a good woman something to talk about when she
had company to tea.
And the second reason was even worse, because
it was a new one and had been talked about with
the most excited interest.
Who did not know of the old nobleman's fury
when his handsome son the Captain had married
the American lady ? Who did not know how cruelly
he had treated the Captain, and how the big, gay,
: . -. ,,,, .. man, who was the only member
of the grand family any one liked, had died in a for-
eign land, poor and unforgiven ? Who did not

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

know how fiercely his lordship had hated the poor
young creature who had been this son's wife, and how
he had hated the thought of her child and never
meant to see the boy-until his two sons died and
left him without an heir? And then, who did not
know that he had looked forward without any
affection or pleasure to his grandson's coming, and
that he had made up his mind that he should find
the boy a vulgar, awkward, pert American lad,
more likely to disgrace his noble name than to
honor it ?
The proud, angry old man thought he had kept
all his thoughts secret. He did not suppose any one
had dared to guess at, even less talk over what he felt,
and dreaded; but his servants watched him, and
read his face and his ill-humors and fits of gloom,
and discussed them in the servants' hall. And
while he thought himself quite secure from the
common herd, Thomas was telling Jane and the
cook, and the butler, and the housemaids and the
other footmen that it was his opinion that the
hold man was wuss than usual a-thinkin' hover
the Capting's boy, an hanticipatin' as he wont be
no credit to the fambly. An' serve him right,"
added Thomas; hit's 'is hown fault. Wot can
he iggspect from a child brought up in pore circum-
stances in that there low Hamerica ? "
And as the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt walked under
the great trees, he remembered that this question-
able little boy had arrived at the Castle only the
evening before, and that there were nine chances
to one that his lordship's worst fears were realized,
and twenty-two chances to one that if the poor little
fellow had disappointed him, the Earl was even now
in a tearing rage, and ready to vent all his rancor
on the first person who called -which it appeared
probable would be his reverend self.
Judge then of his amazement when, as Thomas
opened the library door, his ears were greeted by a
delighted ring of childish laughter.
That 's two out," almost shouted an excited,
clear little voice. You see it's two out "
And there was the Earl's chair, and the gout-
stool, and his foot on it; and by him a small table
and a game on it; and quite close to him, actually
leaning against his arm and his ungouty knee, was
a little boy with face glowing, and eyes dancing
with excitement. It's two out! the little stran-
ger cried. "You had n't any luck that time, had
you ? "-And then they both recognized at once
that some one had come in.
The Earl glanced around, knitting his shaggy
eyebrows as he had a trick of doing, and when he
saw who it was, Mr. Mordaunt was still more sur-
prised to see that he looked even less disagreeable
than usual instead of more so. In fact, he looked
almost as if he had forgotten for the moment how

disagreeable he was, and how unpleasant he really
could make himself when he tried.
Ah! he said, in his harsh voice, but giving
his hand rather graciously. Good morning,
Mordaunt. I've found a new employment, you see."
He put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder,-
perhaps deep down in his heart there was a stir of
gratified pride that it was such an heir he had to
present; there was a spark of something like
pleasure in his eyes as he moved the boy slightly
forward.
"This is the new Lord Fauntleroy," he said.
" Fauntleroy, this is Mr. Mordaunt, the rector of
the parish."
Fauntleroy looked up at the gentleman in the
clerical garments, and gave him his hand.
"I am very glad to make your acquaintance,
sir," he said, remembering the words he had heard
Mr. Hobbs use on one or two occasions when he
had been greeting a new customer with ceremony.
Cedric felt quite sure that one ought to be more
than usually polite to a minister.
Mr. Mordaunt held the small hand in his a
moment as he looked down at the child's face,
smiling involuntarily. He liked the little fellow
from that instant-as in fact people always did
like him. And it was not the boy's beauty and
grace which most appealed to him; it was the
simple, natural kindliness in the little lad which
made any words he uttered, however quaint and
unexpected, sound pleasant and sincere. As the
rector looked at Cedric, he forgot to think of the
Earl at all. Nothing in the world is so strong as
a kind heart, and somehow this kind little heart,
though it was only the heart of a child, seemed
to clear all the atmosphere of the big gloomy room
and make it brighter.
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance,
Lord Fauntleroy," said the rector. "You made a
long journey to come to us. A great many people
will be glad to know you made it safely."
"It was a long way," answered Fauntleroy,
"but Dearest, my mother, was with me and I
was n't lonely. Of course you are never lonely if
your mother is with you; and the ship was
beautiful."
Take a chair, Mordaunt," said the Earl. Mr.
Mordaunt sat down. He glanced from Fauntleroy
to the Earl.
Your lordship is greatly to be congratulated,"
he said warmly.
But the Earl plainly had no intention of show-
ing his feelings on the subject.
He is like his father," he said rather gruffly.
Let us hope he '11 conduct himself more credit-
ably." And then he added! Well, what is it this
morning, Mordaunt? Who is in trouble now ?"

412

[APRIL,

LITTLE LORD

This was not as bad as Mr. Mordaunt had ex-
pected, but he hesitated a second before he began.
It is Higgins," he said; Higgins of Edge
Farm. He has been very unfortunate. He was
ill himself last autumn, and his children had scarlet
fever. I can't say that he is a very good manager,
but he has had ill-luck, and of course he
is b :l, i I. I. . .. . n . f-i ... ... ;
trou l..I, *i... .( 1. : ..,ir ,,, I.i ,.,1. 1 I _h__ _
him it h,.: ...,. .r i r -
th e .1 ..: : ,, i .. i. .i .
be -..
w ife L: iL I I: *: 1 i- :i
m e L .T, .i" 1 ,1 i _- 1 ,: 1 ,- -:

methin : ...

him timethle

up again."
They all think that," said
the Earl, looking ratherblack.

Fauntleroy made a movement for- -
ward. He had been standing et:-een his
grandfather and the visitor, listening with all
his might. He had begun to be interested in Hig-
gins at once. He wondered how many children

there were, and if the scarlet fever had hurt them
very much. His eyes were wide open and were
g f atr and t.. liistor .... all

" Higgins is a well-meaning mam," said the

rector, making an effort to strengthen his plea.
"He is a bad enough tenant," replied his lord-
ship. "And he is always behindhand, Newick
tells me."
He is in great trouble now," said the rector.
He is in great trouble now," said the rector.

FAUNTLEROY. 413

" He is very fond of his wife and children, and if
the farm is taken from him they may literally
starve. He can not give them the nourishing things
they need. Two of the children were left very low
after the fever, and the doctor orders for them
wine and luxuries that Higgins can not afford."
At this Fauntleroy moved a

i.. y with

F 1.. I -, ,_ ,,l -i rted .
. 1 t.. ..r Ie said.
.. i I ... r . a phi-
i ,,,1.1 ,,. :t in the
S i '...,, ho was
-i . I I 1?" And
t:L gleam
.i queer

i- ~ -

HE8?6

LORD FAUNTLEROY WRITES AN ORiDER. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

amusement came back into the old man's deep-set
eyes.
"He was _;.~;_._.-:. husband, who had the
fever," answered Fauntleroy; and he could n't
pay the rent or buy wine and things. And you
gave me that money to help him."
The Earl drew his brows together into a curious

[APRIL,

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

frown, which somehow was scarcely grim at all.
He glanced across at Mr. Mordaunt.
I don't know what sort of a landed proprietor
he will make," he said. "I told Havisham the boy
was to have what he wanted-anything he wanted
-and what he wanted, it seems, was money to
give to beggars."
Oh but they were n't beggars," said Faunt-
leroy eagerly. Michael was a splendid bricklayer !
They all worked."
Oh !" said the Earl, they were not beggars.
They were splendid bricklayers, and bootblacks,
and apple-women."
He bent his gaze on the boy for a few seconds in
silence. The fact was that a new thought was
coming to him, and though, perhaps, it was not
prompted by the noblest emotions, it was not a
bad thought. "Come here," he said, at last.
Fauntleroy went and stood as near to him as
possible without encroaching on the gouty foot.
What would you do in this case?" his lordship
asked.
It must be confessed that Mr. Mordaunt ex-
perienced for the moment a curious sensation.
Being a man of great thoughtfulness, and having
spent so many years on the estate of Dorincourt,
knowing the tenantry, rich and poor, the people
of the village, honest and industrious, dishonest
and lazy, he realized very strongly what power for
good or evil would be given in the future to this one
small boy standing there, his brown eyes wide open,
his hands deep in his pockets; and the thought
came to him also that a great deal of power might,
perhaps, through the caprice of a proud, self-indul-
gent old man be given to him now, and that if his
young nature were not a simple and generous one,
it might be the worst thing that could happen, not
only for others, but for himself.
"And what would you do in such a case?" de-
manded the Earl.
Fauntleroy drew a little nearer, and laid one
hand on his knee, with the most confiding air of
good comradeship.
"If I were very rich," he said, "and not only
just a little boy, I should let him stay, and give
him the things for his children; but then, I am
only a boy." Then, after a second's pause, in
which his face brightened visibly, "' You can do
anything, can't you?" he said.
"Humph!" said my lord, staring at him.
"That's your opinion, is it?" And he was not
displeased, either.
I mean you can give any one i.,ii.;.," said
Fauntleroy. "Who 's Newick?"
"He is my agent," answered the Earl, "and
some of my tenants are not over-fond of him."
Are you going to write him a letter now?"

inquired Fauntleroy. Shall I bring you the
pen and ink? I can take the game off this table."
It plainly had not for an instant occurred to him
that Newick would be allowed to do his worst.
The Earl paused a moment, still looking at
him. "Can you write?" he asked.
Yes," answered Cedric, "but not very well."
Move the things from the table," commanded
my lord, "and bring the pen and ink, and a sheet
of paper from my desk."
Mr. Mordaunt's interest began to increase. Faunt-
leroy did as he was told very deftly. In a few
moments, the sheet of paper, the big inkstand,
and the pen were ready.
There! "he said gayly, "now you can write it."
"You are to write it," said the Earl.
"I!" exclaimed Fauntleroy, and a flush over-
spread his forehead. "Will it do if I write it? I
don't always spell quite right when I have n't a
dictionary, and nobody tells me."
"It will do," answered the Earl. "Higgins will
not complain of the spelling. I 'm not the philan-
thropist; you are. Dip your pen in the ink."
Fauntleroy took up the pen and dipped it in the
ink-bottle, then he arranged himself in position,
leaning on the table.
Now," he inquired, "what must I say? "
"You may say, 'Higgins is not to be inter-
fered with, for the present,' and sign it, 'Fauntle-
roy,' said the Earl.
Fauntleroy dipped his pen in the ink again, and
resting his arm, began to write. It was rather a
slow and serious process, but he gave his whole
soul to it. After a while, however, the manuscript
was complete, and he handed it to his grandfather
with a smile slightly tinged with anxiety.
"Do you think it will do ? he asked.
The Earl looked at it, and the corners of his
mouth twitched a little.
"Yes," he answered; "Higgins will find it
entirely satisfactory." And he handed it to Mr.
Mordaunt.
What Mr. Mordaunt found written was this:
"Dear mr, Newik if you pleas mr. higins is not to be inturfeared
with for the present and oblige
"Yours rispecferly FAUNTLEROY.
Mr. Hobbs always signed his letters that way,"
said Fauntleroy; and I thought I 'd better say
'please.' Is that exactly the right way to spell
'interfered '? "
: It 's not exactly the way it is spelled in the
dictionary," answered the Earl.
"I was afraid of that," said Fauntleroy. I
ought to have asked. You see, that's the way with
words of more than one syllable; you have to
look in the dictionary. It's always safest. I '11
write it over again."

414

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

And write it over again he did, making quite an
imposing copy, and taking precautions in the mat-
ter of spelling by ....... ill, the Earl himself.
Spelling is a curious thing," he said. It's so
often different from what you expect it to be. I
used to think 'please' was spelled p-1-e-e-s, but it
isn't, you know; and you 'd think 'dear' was
spelled d-c-r-e, if you did n't inquire. Sometimes
it almost discourages you."
When Mr. Mordaunt went away, he took the
letter with him, and he took something else with
him also- namely, a pleasanter feeling and a more
hopeful one than he had ever carried home with
him down that avenue on any previous visit he had
made at Dorincourt Castle.
When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had ac-
companied him to the door, went back to his
grandfather.
May I go to Dearest now?" he asked. "I think
she will be waiting for me."
The Earl was silent a moment.
There is something in the stable for you to see
first," he said. "Ring the bell."
If you please," said Fauntleroy, with his quick
little flush. I 'm very much obliged; but I think
I 'd better see it to-morrow. She will be expecting
me all the time."
"Very well," answered the Earl. "We will
order the carriage." Then he added dryly, "It's
a pony."
Fauntleroy drew a long breath.
"A pony!" he exclaimed. "Whose pony is it?"
Yours," replied the Earl.
Mine? cried the little fellow. Mine-like
the things upstairs? "
Yes," said his grandfather. Would you like
to see it ? Shall I order it to be brought around ?"
Fauntleroy's cheeks grew redder and redder.
I never thought I should have a pony! he
said. I never thought that! How glad Dearest
will be. You give me everything, don't you ? "
Do you wish to see it? inquired the Earl.
Fauntleroy drew a long breath. I wanted to see
it," he said. I want to see it so much I can
hardly wait. But I 'm afraid there is n't time."
"You must go and see your mother this after-
noon?" asked the Earl. "You think you can't
put it off? "
Why," said Fauntleroy, "she has been think-
ing about me all the morning, and I have been
thinking about her "
Oh! said the Earl. You have, have you ?
Ring the bell."
As they drove down the avenue, under the arch-
ing trees, he was rather silent. But Fauntleroy
was not. He talked about the pony. What color
was it? How big was it? What was its name ?

What did it like to eat best ? How old was it?
How early in the morning might he get up and
see it ?
"Dearest will be so glad!" he kept saying.
" She will be so much obliged to you for being so
kind to me She knows I always liked ponies so
much, but we never thought I should have one.
There was a little boy on Fifth Avenue who had
one, and he used to ride out every morning and we
used to take a walk past his house to see him."
He leaned back against the cushions and re-
garded the Earl with rapt interest for a few minutes
and in entire silence.
"I think you must be the best person in the
world," he burst forth at last. "You are always
doing good, are n't you?-and thinking about
other people. Dearest says that is the best kind
of goodness; not to think about yourself, but to
think about other people. That is just the way
you are, is n't it ? "
His lordship was so dumfounded to find him-
self presented in such agreeable colors, that he
did not know exactly what to say. He felt that he
needed time for reflection. To see each of his
ugly, selfish motives changed into a good and gen-
erous one by the simplicity of a child was a sin-
gular experience.
Fauntleroy went on, still regarding him with
admiring eyes-those great, clear, innocent eyes!
"You make so many people happy," he said.
" There 's Michael and Bridget and their ten chil-
dren, and the apple-woman, and Dick, and Mr.
Hobbs, and Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Higgins and
their children, and Mr. Mordaunt,-because of
course he was glad,-and Dearest and me, about
the pony and all the other things. Do you know,
I've counted it up on my fingers and in my mind,
and its twenty-seven people you 've been kind to.
That's a good many-twenty-seven "
"And I was the person who was kind to them -
was I?" said the Earl.
Why, yes, you know," answered Fauntleroy.
You made them all happy. Do you know," with
some delicate hesitation, that people are some-
times mistaken about earls when they don't know
them. Mr. Hobbs was. I am going to write to him,
and tell him about it."
What was Mr. Hobbs's opinion of earls?"
asked his lordship.
"Well, you see, the difficulty was," replied his
young companion, that he did n't know any,
and he 'd only read about them in books. He
thought-you must n't mind it-that they were
gory tyrants; and he said he would n't have them
hanging around his store. But if he 'd known you,
I 'm sure he would have felt quite different. I shall
tell him about you."

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

What shall you tell him ? "
I shall tell him," said Fauntleroy, glowing with
enthusiasm, that you are the kindest man I ever
heard of. And you are always thinking of other
people, and making them happy and-and I hope
when I grow up, I shall be just like you."
Just like me repeated his lordship, looking
at the little kindling face. And a dull red crept
up under his withered skin, and he suddenly
turned his eyes away and looked out of the car-
riage window at the great beech-trees, with the sun
shining on their glossy, red-brown leaves.
'"Just like you," said Fauntleroy," adding mod-
estly, "if I can. Perhaps I'm not good enough,
but I'm going to try."
The carriage rolled on down the stately avenue
under the beautiful, broad-branched trees, through
the spaces of green shade and lanes of golden
sunlight. Fauntleroy saw again the lovely places
where the ferns grew high and the bluebells
swayed in the breeze; he saw the deer, standing
or lying in the deep grass, turn their large,
startled eyes as the carriage passed, and caught
glimpses of the brown rabbits as they scurried
away. He heard the whir of the partridges
and the calls and songs of the birds, and it all
seemed even more beautiful to him than before.
All his heart was filled with pleasure and happi-
ness in the beauty that was on every side. But the
old Earl saw and heard very different things, though
he was apparently looking out too. He saw a long
life, in which there had been neither generous
deeds nor kind thoughts; he saw years in which a
man who had been young and strong and rich and
powerful had used his youth and strength and
wealth and power only to please himself and kill
time as the days and years succeeded each other;
he saw this man, when the time had been killed
and old age had come, solitary and without real
friends in the midst of all his splendid wealth ; he
saw people who disliked or feared him, and people
who would flatter and cringe to him, but no one
who really cared whether he lived or died, unless
they had something to gain or lose by it. He
looked out on the broad acres which belonged to
him, and he knew what Fauntleroy did not-how
far they extended, what wealth they represented,
and how' many people had homes on their soil.
And he knew, too,-another thing Fauntleroy did
not-that in all those homes, humble or well-to-do,
there was probably not one person, however much
he envied the wealth and stately name and power,
and however ;ii. he would have been to possess
them, who would for an instant have thought
of calling the noble owner good," or wishing, as
this simple-souled little boy had, to be like him.

And it was not exactly pleasant to reflect upon,
even for a cynical, worldly old man, who had been
sufficient unto himself for seventy years and who
had never deigned to care what opinion the world
held of him so long as it did not interfere with his
comfort or entertainment. And the fact was, indeed,
that he had never before condescended to reflect
upon it at all, and he only did so now because a
child had believed him better than he was, and by
wishing to follow in his illustrious footsteps and
imitate his example, had suggested to him the
curious question whether he was exactly the person
to take as a model.
Fauntleroy thought the Earl's foot must be
hurting him, his brows knitted themselves to-
.. .1.. so, as he looked out at the park; and
thinking this, the considerate little fellow tried not
to disturb him, and enjoyed the trees and the ferns
and the deer in silence. But at last, the carriage,
having passed the gates and bowled through the
green lanes for a short distance, stopped. They
had reached Court Lodge; and Fauntleroy was
out upon the ground almost before the big foot-
man had time to open the carriage door.
The Earl wakened from his reverie with a start.
What he said. "Are we here? "
Yes," said Fauntleroy. "Let me give you
your stick. Just lean on me when you get out."
:"I am not going to get out," replied his lord-
ship brusquely.
Not-not to see Dearest?" exclaimed Faunt-
leroy with astonished face.
"' Dearest' will excuse me," said the Earl dryly.
Go to her and tell her that not even a new pony
would keep you away."
She will be disappointed," said Fauntleroy.
She will want to see you very much."
'I am afraid not," was the answer. The
carriage will call for you as we come back.-Tell
Jeffries to drive on, Thomas."
Thomas closed the carriage door; and, after a
puzzled look, Fauntleroy ran up the drive. The
Earl had the opportunity-as Mr. Havisham once
had-of seeing a pair of handsome, strong little
legs flash over the ground with astonishing rapid-
ity. Evidently their owner had no intention of
losing any time. The carriage rolled slowly away,
but his lordship did not at once lean back; he still
looked out. Through a space in the trees he could
see the house door; it was wide open. The little
figure dashed up the steps; another figure -a
little figure, too, slender and young, in its black
gown ran to meet it. It seemed as if they flew
together, as Fauntleroy leaped into his mother's
arms, hanging about her neck and covering her
sweet young face with kisses.

(To be co'ntinmed.)

[APRIL,

AN IMPRISONED WHALE.

AN IMPRISONED WHALE.

BY EDMUND COLLINS.

-t.

S- -- -
S __ - --_ ----- -- - : --- -- -

TLE L TRIES O -DL E- -UN T E SEE NE L ~-- E.) .
THE \HAlLE TRIES TO DIVE UNDE[ THEli ICE. (SEE NEXT !'AGE.)

I HAD been spending several days in a fisher-
man's cot on the western part of the Newfound-
land coast, waiting with a comrade for the blustery
weather to pass, that I might get some sea-
duck. At last the storm abated, and we started
away before the dawn for the morning's shooting.
There was only a light wind, but it was as keen as
VOL. XIII.-27.

the edge of a knife. As a rule, the sea thumps with
the noise of thunder along the base of the cliffs
about this coast, for some time after a storm has
blown over; but, on that morning, to our surprise
only the faintest surf-crying, plaintive, sweet, and
almost as musical as the breathing of an /Eolian
harp, came up from the shore. It was perilous

,,
---- t-
~-~-~---~-~ ~

~--~

3
i.-
,,
E
---

ij,-

g~i

AN IMPRISONED WHALE.

traveling along those giddy steeps and down the
sides of yawning gorges, when there was no light
save from a few faint stars in the gloomy sky.
But the instinct of my guides was unerring and
their feet were sure.
In the chill gray of the dawn, we stood upon the
top of a steep, under which we were to spend
the morning in shooting. Here we had a view of
the sea for many miles. And now we discovered
why it was that there was no noise of breakers,
only the faint surf-crying along the coast. As far
as our eyes could see, there was only a body of
ocean ice, a leaden-gray in the dim light. This
was studded with ice-mountains, fantastic-shaped,
and of a ghastly white upon the side turned toward
the dawn. These giant bergs, with this mighty
world of ice about their feet, had come many a
league. They had been fashioned in all those won-
drous shapes-like the castles of warriors and the
lairs of goblins-in the frosty workshops of the
north, not far from the Pole, and had been made the
sport of great ocean currents that sometimes set
stronger south than north, until now they found
themselves near a land of towering, cheerless cliffs,
treeless plains, and windy mountain-tops.
Impelled by a strong current and favoring gales,
this tremendous body of ice had perhaps a month
before begun its southern march, and it was now
pressing in upon the land with the force of a thou-
sand armadas. It drove before it in millions, the
numerous species of sea-fowls that dive for shell-
fish, li,.1.11.;, them in thousands, so our guide
assured us, into every little lakelet that might re-
main unfilled by ice around the rocky and rugged
shores.
As well as we were able to judge through the
faint light, the ice seemed to be about half a mile
off land, and as the in-breeze had freshened, we
knew that it would soon be close to the shore. We
then descended a very perilous cliff-path to a little
tilt," or hut that stood upon the rocks below,
having been built for the sportsmen in the winter
weather. To our astonishment, not a bird was
to be seen in the clear water before the hut.
While we looked, wondering what could be the
cause of this, an enormous beast, the largest liv-
ing creature that I had ever seen, rose out of the
sea, almost against the rock upon which we were
posted. He remained above water only a moment,
and then, spouting a column of spray about ten feet
into the air, he plunged under again, raising his
enormous tail high out of the water as he went
down. The spray fell upon my dog that lay a
little distance from me, and he shivered and
whined. One of the guides grasped my arm.
A whale !" 'he said; "by all that 's lovely it 's
a whale. No ducks for us to-day, but we '11 have

better sport,"-and while he was yet speaking, the
monster rose again. I saw his round, dusk-green
eyes, the barnacles on his side like those excres-
cences that are found growing on the bottom of a
very old ship, and I observed the greasy, smut-
gray of his skin. He again spouted spray and
again launched himself under the cold waters.
Our guide gazed at the spot where the creature
had gone down, then upon the small space of
clear water and then upon the advancing ice. His
excitement was so great that he could not speak.
But we then took in the situation. The whale
was a prisoner. He had come from the blustery
seas, where small fishes were hard to find, while
the ice was yet a score of leagues from land, and
had staid too long at his feasting.
Still the resistless floe pushed in ; the little lake
left to the hapless whale grew smaller and smaller.
Now a whale is an animal with warm blood,
though it lives in the sea, and it has to come
to the surface every few minutes to breathe. For
this poor beast to try to swim out of his prison by
plunging under the floe would therefore be to
meet his death, as the ice, being ocean-made, was
very thick and deep and held together by tremen-
dous pressure.
At regular intervals he continued to rise, but
at each rising he saw that the space was growing
smaller. Slowly still the great white mass of ice
crept in with noiseless tread but as resistless as
ten thousand armies. Terror had now fairly
seized the huge prisoner, and instead of diving
regularly he began to flounder about wildly and
aimlessly. Then he beat the water with his tail
and buried himself once again. When he
sank, we could see a huge greenish mass
descend into the deep water, and it moved several
times sheer over against the rock on which we sat.
The struggle could not last much longer. There
was soon left little more than space enough for
him to rise and dive again. In a few seconds he
rose and seemed to look at the towering cliffs
above him; then, rearing himself high, he turned
seaward and, with a tremendous lunge, disap-
peared under the ice. Each one of the spectators
held his breath. About a stone's-throw out there
was a perceptible movement of two or three of
the ice-cakes; then a -* ,iii,. then another sim-
ilar motion, and then -all was over. We sat, not
one speaking, for several minutes, but there was
the same solemn stillness out on the great ice-floe.
Farther down the coast the sea-fowls whistled a
sad dirge; the ice still pressed noiselessly up
toward our feet;--the struggles of the brave
monster were over !
All that day the wind blew in upon the land,
but the next night there came a calm, and then

[APRIL,

THE BALLAD OF JOHNNY PICKLEFRITZ.

a gentle breeze blew off shore. With the early
dawn a number of punts and skiffs, owned by
the people in the Cove, were put out and rowed
down the coast to where the whale had been
drowned. The ice had moved off and, floating
"long and large," they soon found the beast be-
tween the land and the rim of the ice.
There was great jubilation, of course, at the
discovery, and the monster was towed down to

the Cove, where the inhabitants, armed with
instruments like an Irish spade, but keen as a
knife, jumped into the freezing surf, mounted the
dead animal, and cut the blubber off as you have
seen a gardener cut sods. The whale was one of
the kind known to naturalists as Balceno fera, and
its yield of oil and bone, I afterward was told,
amounted to the value of about three thousand
dollars.

IPALLAD

SI ;

.J." i e 1 1

t, "ir,/ le 'lo ,n ", t e ,,'_
r ,,,, '(5

JOHNNY -

JDICKLE: ITZ
0 tore PIs CrmeoS 0of 0 ^i5 .

Viren fi nurj Wean ro scolc so onny ran our in Cold -

en e caug and brour fi in' jon4 r ucf fer wil a pin
Jn tis mo er came and a laid tde boy across er Inee,

o4 a fit(tle Swirtc,and X X x x 5X

%o)4 i u5 dy ^n i^ e gooc( 5forf^ OAS rfifn

419

420

Now just take a peep at the window and see-
Oh, dear me !
How cloudy and dark, and how dreary and gray!
What a day!
The rain seems to fiown
As it comes pouring down;
And the wet, muddy earth looks as cross as the
sky.
So do I.

How could I expect to be happy and gay,
Such a day?
When things are as dull and as still as a mouse
In the house.

Oh, dear, if I knew
Of something to do !
The world looks as if it were having a cry.
So am I.

If only the sunshine would smile out again;
And the rain,
And the dark, gloomy clouds, and the mist,
and the gray
Go away,-
Why, then you would see
How merry I 'd be!
If only the sun and the weather would try,
So would I.

HISTORIC GIRLS.*

BY E. S. BROOKS.

.-. WOO OF HWANG-
0 ,: THE GIRL OF
i i E YELLOW RIVER.
.t IAftecrward the Great
A1. reoss Woo /fChilta.]
SI,' A. D. 635.

i'i''iF rF-OMAS the Nes-
r...ian had been in
... iny lands and in
Sr...: midst of many
..1I agers, but he had
..: cer before found
S!nself in quite so
i pleasant a position
i ,now. Sixugly Tar-
I,' horsemen with
S.y uncomfortable-
,..king spears and
S' palling shouts, and
,'i.unted on their
I ift Kirghiz ponies,
were charg-
ingdownup-
onhim,while
neither the rushing Yellow River on the right hand,
nor the steep dirt-cliffs on the left, could offer him
shelter or means of escape. These dirt-cliffs, or
loesss," to give them their scientific name, are

remarkable banks of brownish-yellow loam, found
largely in northern and western China and rising
sometimes to height of a thousand feet. Their pe-
culiar yellow tinge makes everything look "hwang "
or yellow,-and hence yellow is a favorite color
among the Chinese. So, for instance, the Em-
peror is Hwang-ti" f-the "Lord of the Yellow
Land"; the Imperial throne is the "Hwang-wei"
or "yellow throne of China; the great river, for-
merly spelled in your school geographies Hoang-
ho, is Hwang-ho," the "yellow river," etc.
These hwang" cliffs or dirt-cliffs are full of
caves and crevices, but the good priest could see
no convenient cave and he had therefore no alter-
native but to boldly face his fate, and like a brave
man, calmly meet what he could not avoid.
But, just as he had singled out, as his probable
captor, one peculiarly unattractive-looking horse-
man, whose crimson sheepskin coat and long
horsetail plume were streaming in the wind, and
just as he had braced himself to meet the onset
against the great loesss," or dirt-cliff, he felt a
twitch at his black upper robe, and a low voice -
a girl's, he was confident,-said quickly:
Look not before nor behind thee, good O-lo-
pun, but trust to my word and give a backward
leap."
Thomas, the Nestorian, had learned two val-
uable lessons in his much wandering about the

I Copyright, 1884, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved. t See page 474

HISTORIC GIRLS.

A RAINY DAY.

BY SYDNEY DAYRE.

HISTORIC GIRLS.

earth,- never to appear surprised, and always
to be ready to act quickly. So, knowing nothing
of the possible results of his action, but feeling that
it could scarcely be worse than death from Tartar
spears, he leaped back, as bidden.
The next instant, he found himself flat upon his
back in one of the low-ceiled cliff caves that abound
in western China, while the screen of vines that had

At once he recognized the child. She was Woo
(the high-spirited or dauntless one"), the
bright young girl whom he had often noticed in
the throng at his mission-house in Ting Chow,-
the little cityby the Yellow River, where her father,
the bannerman, held guard at the Dragon Gate.
He was about to call out to the girl to save her-
self, when, with a sudden swoop, the Tartar whom

"AGILE LITTLE WOO WAS QUICKER

concealed its entrance still quivered from his fall. he had braced himself to resist, bent in his saddle
Picking himself up and breathing a prayer of and made a dash for the child. But agile little
thanks for his deliverance, he peered through the Woo was quicker than the Tartar horseman.
leafy doorway and beheld in surprise six much as- With a nimble turn and a sudden spring, she
tonished Tartar robbers regarding with looks of dodged the Tartar's hand, darted under his pony's
puzzled wonder a defiant little Chinese girl, who legs, and with a shrill laugh of derision, sprang
had evidently darted out of the cave as he had up the sharp incline, and disappeared in one of
tumbled in. She was facing the enemy as boldly the many cliff caves before the now doubly-baffled
as had he, and her little almond eyes fairly danced horsemen could see what had become of her.
with mischievous delight at their perplexity. With a grunt of discomfiture and disgust, the

x886.]

HISTORIC GIRLS.

Tartar raiders turned their ponies' heads and gal-
loped off along the road that skirted the yellow
waters of the swift-flowing Hwang-ho. Then a lit-
tle yellow face peeped out of a cave farther up the
cliff, a black-haired, tightly braided head bobbed
and twitched with delight, and the next moment
the good priest was heartily thanking his small
ally for so skillfully saving him from threatened
capture.
It was a cool September morning in the days of
the great Emperor Tai, twelve hundred and fifty
years ago. And a great emperor was Tai-tsung,
though few, if any, of my young readers ever
heard his name. His splendid palace stood in the
midst of lovely gardens in the great city of Chang-
an,-that old, old city that for over two thousand
years was the capital of China, and which you can
now find in your geographies under its modern
name of Singan-foo. And in the year 635, when
our story opens, the name of Tai-tsflng was great
and powerful throughout the length and breadth
of CI.." Kwoh,-the Middle : :...I... .." as the
Chinese for nearly thirty centuries have called their
vast country, while the stories of his fame and
power had reached to the western courts of India
and of Persia, of Constantinople, and even of dis-
tant Rome.
It was a time of darkness and strife in Europe.
Already what historians have called the Dark
Ages had settled upon the Christian world. And
among all the races of men the only nation that
was civilized, and learned, and cultivated, and re-
fined in this seventh century of the Christian era,
was this far eastern Empire of China, where
schools and learning flourished, and arts and man-
ufactures abounded, when America was as yet
undiscovered and Europe was sunk in degradation.
And here, since the year 505, the Nestorians, a
branch of the Christian Church, originating in
Asia Minor in the Fifth Century, and often called
" the Protestants of the East," had been spread-
ing the story of the life and love of Christ. And
here, in this year of grace 635, in the city of
Chang-an, and in all the region about the Yellow
River, the good priest Thomas the Nestorian,
whom the Chinese called O-lo-pun-the nearest
approach they could give to his strange Syriac
name had his Christian mission-house, and was
zealously bringing to the knowledge of a great
and enlightened people the still greater, and more
helpful light of Christianity.
My daughter," said the Nestorian after his
words of thanks were uttered; this is a gracious
deed done to me, and one that I may not easily
repay. Yet would I gladly do so, if I might. Tell
me what wouldst thou like above all other things?"

The answer of the girl was as ready as it was un-
expected.
To be a boy, O master she replied. Let
the great Shang-ti, whose might thou teaches,
make me a man that I may have revenge."
The good priest had found strange things in his
mission work in this far Eastern land, but this
wrathful demand of an excited little maid was full
as strange as any. For China is and ever has
been a land in which the chief things taught the
children are,"' subordination, passive submission to
the law, to parents and to all superiors, and a peace-
ful demeanor."
Revenge is not for men to trifle with, nor
maids to talk of," he said. Harbor no such de-
sires, but rather come with me and I will show thee
more attractive things. This very day doth the
Great Emperor go forth from the City of Peace,t
to the banks of the Yellow River. Come thou
with me to witness the splendor of his train, and
perchance even to see the great Emperor himself
and the young Prince Kaou, his son."
That will I not then," cried the girl more hotly
than before. I hate this great Emperor, as men
do wrongly call him, and I hate the young Prince
Kaou. May Lung Wang, the god of the dragons,
dash them both beneath the Yellow River ere
yet they leave its banks this day."
At this terrible wish on the lips of a girl, the good
master very nearly forgot even his most valuable
precept- never to be surprised. He regarded his
defiant young companion in sheer amazement.
"Have a care, have a care, my daughter he
said at length. The blessed Saint James telleth us
that the tongue is a little member, but it can kindle
a great fire. How mayst thou hope to say such dire-
ful words against the Son of Heaven $ and live ? "
The Son of Heaven killed the Emperor, my
father," said the child.
"'The Emperor thy father Thomas the Nes-
torian almost gasped in this latest surprise. Is
the girl crazed or doth she sport with one who
seeketh her good? And amazement and perplex-
ity settled upon his face.
The Princess Woo is neither crazed nor doth
she sport with the master," said the girl. I do
but speak the truth. Great is Tai-tsmng. Whom
he will he slayeth, and whom he will he keepeth
alive." And then she told the astonished priest
that the bannerman of the Dragon Gate was not
her father at all. For, she said, as she had lain
awake only the night before, she had heard enough
in talk between the bannerman and his wife to
learn her secret,-how that she was the only daugh-
ter of the rightful Emperor, the Prince Kung-ti,
whose guardian and chief adviser the present Em-

* Almighty Being. I The meaning of Chang-an, the ancient capital of China, is the City of Continuous Peace."
+ The Son of Heaven" is one of the chief titles of the Chinese Emperor

[APRIL,

HISTORIC GIRLS.

peror had been; how this trusted protector had
made away with poor Kfmg-ti in order that he
might usurp the throne; and how she, the Prin-
cess Woo, had been flung into the swift Hwang-ho,
from the turbid waters of which she had been res-
cued by the bannerman of the Dragon Gate.
"This may or may not be so," Thomas the Nes-
torian said, uncertain whether or not to credit the
girl's surprising story; but even were it true, my
daughter, how couldst thou right thyself? What
can a girl hope to do?"
The young Princess drew up her small form
proudly. "Do ?" she cried in brave tones, "I can
do much, wise O-lo-pun, girl though I am Did not
a girl save the divine books of Confucius, when the
great Emperor Chi-Hwang-ti did command the
burning of all the books in the empire ? Did not a
girl-though but a soothsayer's daughter-raise
the outlaw Lii Pangstraight to the Yellow Throne ?
And shall I, who am the daughter of Emperors,
fail to be as able or as brave as they? "
The wise Nestorian was shrewd enough to see
that here was a prize that might be worth the fos-
tering. By the assumption of mystic knowledge,
he learned from the bannerman of the Dragon
Gate, the truth of the girl's story, and so worked
upon the good bannerman's native superstition
and awe of superior power as to secure the custody
of the young Princess, and to place her in his mis-
sion-house at Ting-Chow for teaching and guid-
ance. Among the early Christians, the Nestorians
held peculiarly helpful and elevating ideas of the
worth and proper condition of woman. Their pre-
cepts were full of mutual help, courtesy, and fra-
ternal love. All these the Princess Woo learned
underherpreceptor's guidance. :-'. u .- .tobecven
more assertive and self-reliant, and became, also,
expert in many sports in which, in that woman-
despising country, only boys could hope to excel.
One day, when she was about fourteen years old,
the Princess Woo was missing from the Nestorian
mission-house, by the Yellow River. Her troubled
guardian, in much anxiety, set out to find the
truant; and, finally, in the course of his search,
climbed the high bluff from which he saw the
massive walls, the many gateways, the gleaming
roofs, and porcelain towers of the Imperial city of
Chang-an-the City of Continuous Peace.
But even before he had entered its northern
gate, a little maid in loose silken robe, peaked cap,
and embroidered shoes, had passed through that
very gateway, and slipping through the thronging
streets of the great city, approached at last the
group of picturesque and glittering .,I.hn. h, that
composed the palace of the great Emperor Tai.
Just within the main gateway of the palace rose
the walls of the Imperial Academy, where eight

thousand Chinese boys received instruction under
the patronage of the Emperor, while, just beyond
extended the long, low range of the archery school,
in which even the Emperor himself sometimes came
to witness, or take part in, the exciting contests.
Drawing about her shoulders the yellow sash
that denoted alliance with royalty, the Princess
Woo, without a moment's hesitation, walked
straight through the palace gateway, past the won-
dering guards, and into the boundaries of the
archery court.
Here the young Prince Kaou, an indolent and
lazy lad of about her own age, was cruelly goad-
ing on his trained crickets to a ferocious fight with-
in their gilded bamboo cage, while, just at hand,
the slaves were preparing his bow and arrows for
his daily archery practice.
Now, among the rulers of China there are three
classes of privileged targets-the skin of the bear
for the Emperor himself, the skin of the deer for
the princes oftheblood, and the skin of the tiger for
the nobles of the court; and thus, side by side, in
the Imperial Archery School at CI! 1,- ... hung
the three targets.
The girl with the royal sash and the determined
face walked straight up to the Prince Kaou. The
boy left off goading his fighting crickets, and
looked in astonishment at this strange and highly
audacious girl, who dared to enter a place from
which all women were excluded. Before the guards
could interfere, she spoke.
Are the arrows of the great Prince Kaou so
well fitted to the cord," she said, that he dares
to try his skill with one who, although a girl, hath
yet the wit and right to test his skill? "
The guards laid hands upon the intruder to
drag her away, but the Prince, nettled at her
tone, yet glad to welcome anything that promised
novelty or amusement, bade them hold off their
hands.
"No girl speaketh thus to the Prince Kaou
and liveth," he said insolently. Give me instant
test of thy boast or the wooden collar," in the
palace torture-house, shall be thy fate."
Give me the arrows, Prince," the girl said,
bravely, "and I will make good my words."
At a sign, the slaves handed her a bow and
arrows. But, as she tried the cord and glanced
along the polished shaft, the Prince said:
Yet, stay, girl; here is no target set for thee.
Let the slaves set up the people's target. These
are not for such as thou."
SNay, Prince, fret not thyself," the girl coolly
replied. "My target is here!" and while all
looked on in wonder, the undaunted girl deliber-
ately toed the practice line, twanged her bow, and
with a sudden whiz, sent her well aimed shaft

* The wooden collar" was the kia or cangue,"- a terrible instrument of torture used in China for the punishment of criminals.

x886.]

HISTORIC GIRLS.

quivering straight into the small white center of
the great bearskin-the Imperial target itself!
With a cry of horror and of rage at such sacri-
lege, the guards pounced upon the girl archer, and
would have dragged her away. But with the same
quick motion that had saved her from the Tartar
robbers, she sprang from their grasp and, standing
full before the royal target, she said commandingly:

Thomas, the Nestorian. He had traced his miss-
ing charge even to the Imperial Palace, and now
found her in the very presence of those he deemed
her mortal enemies. Prostrate at the Emperor's
feet, he told the young girl's story, and then
pleaded for her life, promising to keep her safe
and secluded in his mission-home at Ting Chow.
The Emperor Tai laughed a mighty laugh, for

W --'C-- I f', --z, .'
..'.. .. .Z "
- - i .--' -. : "
..,
A I

IF. I T P
"STANDING LULL BEFORE THLE ROYAL TARGET SHlI SAID, I AM THE EMPRESS'

"Hands off, slaves; nor dare to question my
right to the bearskin target. I am the Empress!"
It needed but this to cap the climax. Prince,
guards, and slaves looked at this extraordinary
girl in open-mouthed wonder. But ere their
speechless amazement could change to instant
seizure, a loud laugh rang from the Imperial door-
way and a hearty voice exclaimed, Braved, and
by a girl! Who is thy Empress, Prince? Let me,
too, salute the Tsih-tien "' Then a portly figure,
clad in yellow robes, strode down to the targets,
while all within the archery lists prostrated them-
selves in homage before one of China's greatest
monarchs-the Emperor Tai-tsfing, Wun-woo-ti.t
Before even the Emperor could reach the girl,
the bamboo screen was swept hurriedly aside, and
into the archery lists came the anxious priest,

the bold front of this only daughter of his former
master and rival, suited his warlike humor. But
he was a wise and clement monarch withal.
Nay, wise O-lo-pun," he said. Such rivals
to our throne may not be at large, even though
sheltered in the temples of the khzig-mao. t The
royal blood of the house of Sui flows safely only
within palace walls. Let the proper decree be regis-
tered, and let the gifts be exchanged, for to-morrow
thy ward, the Princess Woo, becometh one of our
most noble queens."
And so at fourteen, even as the records show,
this strong-willed young girl of the Yellow River
became one of the wives of the great Emperor Tai.
She proved a very gracious and acceptable step-
mother to young Prince Kaou, who, as the records
also tell us, grew so fond of the girl queen that,

* "The Sovereign Divine"-an Imperial title. t Our Exalted Ancestor- the Literary-Martial Emperor."
I The "light-haired ones "- an old Chinese term for the western Christians. The name of the former Dynasty.

[APRIL,

HISTORIC

within a year from the death of his great father,
and when he himself had succeeded to the Yellow
Throne, as Emperor Supreme, he recalled the
Queen Woo from her retirement in the mission-
house at Tfung Chow and made her one of his
royal wives. Five years after, in the year 655, she
was declared Empress, and during the reign of her
lazy and indolent husband, she was the power
behind the throne." And when, in the year 683,
Kaou-tsgng died, she boldly assumed the direction
of the government, and, ascending the throne,
declared herself Woo How Tsih-tien--Woo, the
Empress Supreme and Sovereign Divine !
History records that this Zenobia of China
proved equal to the great task. She governed
the empire with discretion," extended its borders,
and was acknowledged as Empress from the shores
of the Pacific to the borders of Persia, of India,
and of the Caspian Sea.
Her reign was one of the longest and most suc-
cessful in that period known in history as the
Golden Age of China. Because of the relentless
native prejudice against a successful woman, in a
country where girl babies are ruthlessly drowned,
as the quickest way of ridding the world of useless
incumbrances, Chinese historians have endeavored
to blacken her character and undervalue her serv-
ices. But later scholars now see that she was a
powerful and successful queen, who did great
good to her native land and strove to maintain
its power and glory.

GIRLS. 425

She never forgot her good friend and protector
Thomas, the Nestorian. During her long reign
of almost fifty years, Christianity strengthened in
the kingdom and obtained a footing that only the
great Mahometan conquests of five centuries later
entirely destroyed; and the Empress Woo, so the
chronicles declare, herself offered sacrifices to
the great God of all." When, hundreds of years
after, the Jesuit missionaries penetrated into this
most exclusive of all the nations of the earth, the)
found near the palace at Chang-an the ruins of the
Nestorian mission church with the cross still stand-
ing and, preserved through all the changes of
dynasties, an abstract in Syriac characters of the
Christian law, and with it the names of seventy-two
attendant priests who had served the church estab-
lished by O-lo-pun.
Thus, in a land in which from the earliest ages
women have been regarded as little else but slaves,
did a self-possessed and wise young girl triumph
over all difficulties and rule over her many mill-
ions of subjects in a manner becoming a great
prince." This, even her enemies admit. Les-
sening the miseries of her subjects," so the his-
torians declare, she governed the wide Empire of
China wisely, discreetly, and peacefully; and she
displayed upon the throne, all the daring, wit, and
wisdom that had marked her actions when, years
before, she was nothing but a sprightly and deter-
mined little Chinese maiden, on the banks of the
turbid Yellow River.

THE "LONG-KI,' OR DRAGON FLAG OF CHINA.

426 A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

SEVENTH PAPER.

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

THE mountain to which we are now going is in
Switzerland--that country which contains more
celebrated mountains, more beautiful mountains,
more accessible mountains, and, I may add, more
useful mountains, than any other country in the
world. There is no part of Switzerland where
mountains are not to be seen; and to travel in
that country, it is .-.: i..- il, necessary to cross the
mountains, to go around their sides, or to go
through them. Switzerland, indeed, may be said
to be a great deal larger than would be supposed,
from the very limited extent of its boundary lines,
because so much of the surface is piled up into the
air, in the shape of mountains.
These vast eminences, which lie in chains and
groups all over the country, are called Alps, and
they are divided into three classes, the High Alps,
the Middle Alps, and the Lower Alps. The first
of these divisions consists of those mountains, the
tops of which rise above the snow line, which
is about eight thousand feet above the sea.
The portions of a mountain which are higher than
this imaginary line are covered with snow which
never melts, even in summer. The Middle Alps
are those which raise themselves above the height
at which all trees cease to grow, or four thousand
five hundred feet above the sea. The Lower Alps
are more than two thousand feet high, but do not
rise to the altitude of the last division.
The word alp means a mountain pasture, and
many of the lower mountains, as well as great
portions of the sides of the higher ones, are
covered with rich grass, on which, during the
summer-time, great numbers of cattle graze. In
queer little chalets, or Swiss huts, which look as
if they were nearly all roof, scattered here and
there upon the grassy sides of the mountains,
live the people who attend to the cattle, and
make butter and cheese.
Nothing can be more picturesque than some of
these Alpine pastures, with their great slopes of rich
green, dotted here and there with dark-red chalets.
The cattle wander about over the grass, and some-
times, on the rocks, we see a girl blowing a horn
to call together her flock of goats. Beautiful flowers
of various colors spring up on every side ; the air

is warm and pleasant, and everything gives the
idea of a lovely summer scene, while just above, in
the hollow of a ravine, to which we could walk in
ten minutes, lies a great mass of white and glitter-
ing snow, which never melts.
Almost all persons who travel in Switzerland
have a great desire to go to the top of at least one
of the towering peaks they see about them; and
mountain ascensions are very common and popu-
lar. Some go up one kind of mountain, and some
another; and the kind is -l.-, i 1 determined by
their spirit of enterprise, their general health, and
the strength of their legs. There is such a choice
of mountains in Switzerland, and such a variety
of ways of going to the top of them, that there are
few persons who can not make an ascension, if
they desire it.
The highest of all the mountains in Europe is
Mont Blanc, which towers fifteen thousand seven
hundred and thirty-one feet into the air. Although
this great mountain is not in Switzerland, but in
Savoy, it is very near the Swiss boundary line,
and is plainly visible from Geneva. It is consid-
ered one of the principal sights of that charming
little city, and many travelers never see it from
any other point. Although many people ascend
Mont Blanc every year, the undertaking requires
a great degree of muscular as well as nervous
strength. The top of Mont Blanc can not be
reached in less than two days, and fine weather is
absolutely necessary, for in storms or fogs the
climbers would be apt to lose their way, and this
would be very dangerous. Some years ago a party
of eleven persons lost their lives on Mont Blanc in
consequence of being overtaken by a storm. The
first day the traveler ascends about ten thousand
feet to a place called the Grands Mulets. Here,
in a little stone hut, he passes the night, or, rather,
part of it, for he is obliged to start again in the
very small hours of the next morning. When the
top is reached, and one stands on the highest peak
of that vast mass of eternal snow, he has the proud
satisfaction of being there, but he does not find
that the highest point in Switzerland gives him the
grandest view. The surrounding mountains and
landscape are at so great a distance that some-
times they are not seen at all, and it is only in a
very clear atmosphere that you get an idea of the
mountain chains which lie about Mont Blanc.
The ascent is, also, not a cheap pleasure. No

[APRIL,

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

person is allowed to go up with less than two
guides, and each of these must be paid a hundred
francs, or twenty dollars. Then a porter is required
to carry provisions and extra clothing, and he
must be paid fifty francs. At the little hut, at
Grands Mulets, the climber is charged more for
his accommodation than he would have to pay at
a first-class New-York hotel, and if he thinks to
economize by making a supper and breakfast out
of the provisions he has brought with him, he is
charged five dollars for his bed. It is of no use to
try to get the better of a person who keeps a hut
hotel, ten thousand feet in the air, where there is
no opposition. If one does not like the terms, he
may sleep in the snow. When a party goes up,
the expenses of each member are somewhat les-
sened, but the trip is, in any case, a costly one.
For this reason, and on account of the hardships
and dangers incurred in climbing its vast and
snowy steeps, the great majority of tourists are
content to gaze upon the towering heights of Mont
Blanc without attempting to ascend them.
The more dangerous peaks of Switzerland, such
as the Matterhorn, are only ascended by skillful
and practiced mountain-climbers, and even these
often meet with disaster. On the first ascent of the
Matterhorn, four persons lost their lives by falling
the dreadful distance of four thousand feet; and
not far from this mountain is a little cemetery con-
taining the graves of travelers who have perished in
climbing this and neighboring heights. But there
are mountains in Switzerland the summits of which
can be reached by persons capable of sustaining
ordinary fatigue, and they are ascended every
summer by hundreds of travellers, many of whom
are ladies. The latter sometimes prove themselves
very steady and enduring climbers, and in Switzer-
land it very often happens that when a boy starts
out on an excursion he can not tell his sister that
she must stay at home that day, because he is going
to climb a mountain. Give a girl an alpenstock-
a long stick with a spike in the end-a pair of
heavy boots with rough nails in the soles, and if
she be in good health, and accustomed to exercise,
she can climb quite high up in the world on a Swiss
mountain.
But, although a fine view may be obtained from
a mountain six, eight, or ten thousand feet high,
and although the ascent may not be really danger-
ous, it is of no use to assert that it is an easy thing
to go up such mountains; and there are few of
them on which there are not some places, necessary
to pass, where a slip would make it extremely un-
pleasant for the person slipping. There are a
great many travelers, not used to climbing, or not
able to do so, whose nerves are not in that per-
fect order which would enable them to stand on

the edge of even a moderately high precipice with-
out feeling giddy; and yet these people would like
very much to have a view from a mountain-top,
and they naturally feel interested when they find
that there is in Switzerland a mountain, and a
high one, too, from which a magnificent view
may be obtained, that can be ascended without any
fatigue, or any danger.
To this mountain we are now going. It is called
the Rigi, and it is situated on the northern bank of
the Lake of Lucerne, or as the Swiss call it, "The
Lake of the Four Forest Cantons; and there is,
probably, no lake in the world more beautiful, or
surrounded by grander scenery. It is also full of
interest historically, for its shores were the scenes
of the first efforts for Swiss independence. On
one of its arms, the Lake of Uri, we are shown
the place where William Tell sprang on the rocks
when escaping from the boat of the tyrant Gessler;
and in the little village of Altorf, not far away, he
shot the apple from his son's head.
At the edge of the lake, at the very foot of the
Rigi, is the small town of Vitznau, and it is to this
place that the people who wish to ascend the
mountain betake themselves, by steamboat. On
the other side of the mountain there is another
small town, called Arth, where tourists coming
from the north begin their ascent; but we shall go
up from Lake Lucerne, and start from Vitznau. Ar-
rived at this town, we find ourselves at the foot of
a towering mountain, which stretches for miles to the
east and west, so that it is more like a short mount-
ainous chain than a single eminence. Its loftiest
peak is five thousand nine hundred and six feet,-
about the height of our own Mount Washington,
in the White Mountains.
In preparing to climb the Rigi, it is not necessary
for us to adopt the costume usually worn by
mountain-climbers in Switzerland, which, in the
case of men and boys, consists of a very short coat,
knickerbocker trousers buttoned at the knee,
heavy woolen stockings, stout laced boots with the
soles covered with projecting nails, a little knap-
sack on the back, and a long alpenstock in the
hand. We need not carry any provisions, but
it is necessary to take some extra wraps with us,
for at the top it is often very cold ; but although
the mountain is very high, and its top rises above
the limit of the growth of trees, it does not reach
to the line of eternal snow.
There are no icy slopes, up which we must
scramble; there are no crevasses, reaching down
hundreds of feet into the heart of the mountain,
over which we must slowly creep by means of a
plank or ladder: there are no narrow footpaths,
with a towering wall of rock on one side and a ter-
rible precipice yawning on the other; there are no

1886.]

427

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

wide and glistening snow-fields, on which, if one of
us slips and falls, he may slide away so swiftly and
so far, that he may never be seen again; there are
no vast fissures covered with newly fallen snow on
which if a person carelessly treads he disappears
forever.
There is also no necessity of our .ii1.;., in
a line with a long rope tied from one to the other,
so that if one of us slips the others may hold back,
and keep him from falling or sliding very far.
None of these dangers, which are to be encoun-
tered by those who ascend the higher Alps, and
many of the lower Swiss mountains, are to be met
with here; and the precautions which those per-
sons must not fail to take are not required on
the Rigi. All that is necessary when we are ready
to make the ascent, is to buy our tickets, and take
our seats in a wide and comfortable railway car.
There is a funny little locomotive at one end of
this car, and there is a line of rails which leads by
various curves and windings and steep ascents, up
to the top of the mountain. The locomotive will
do the climbing, and all we have to do is to sit still,
and look about, and see what there is to be seen.
This railway and the little locomotive are very
different from those in ordinary use on level
ground. The rails are about the usual distance
apart, but between them are two other very strong
rails, lying near to each other, and connected by
a series of stout iron bars, like teeth. Under
the locomotive is a cogwheel which fits into these
teeth, and as it is turned around by the engine it
forces the locomotive up the steep incline. There
is but one car to each train, and this is always
placed above the engine, so that it is pushed along
when it is going up, and held back when it is
coming down. The car is not attached to the
locomotive, so that if anything happens to the
latter, the car can be instantly stopped by means
of a brake which acts on the teeth between the
rails, and the locomotive can go on down by itself.
There is no power required in going down, and all
the engine has to do is to hold back sturdily, and
keep the car from coming down too fast. This
may be the reason, perhaps, why persons are
charged only half as much for coming down as
they are charged for going up.
The locomotive does not stand up straight in
the ordinary way, but leans backward, and when
on level ground, it looks very much as if it had
broken down at one end; but when it is on the
steep inclines of the mountain, its depressed end,
which always goes first, is then as high as the
other, and the smokestack stands up perpendicu-
larly. The seats in the cars, too, slope so that the
passengers will not slip off them when one end of
the car is tilted up. The ascents of the road are

often quite surprising, and one wonders how the
locomotive is ever going to get the car, contain-
ing forty or fifty people, up those steep inclines.
But up it always goes, steadily and resolutely, for
the little engine has the power of one hundred and
twenty horses.
The whole road is about four and a half miles
long, and although the locomotive is so strong, it
only goes at the rate of three miles an hour, so
that an active person walking by its side might
keep up with it for a time, though he would be
likely to be very tired before he had gone far.
As we slowly ascend the Rigi, in this comfortable
way, we find that we are taking one of the most
interesting and novel excursions of our lives. If
the weather be fine, there breaks upon the eye, as
we rise higher and higher, a succession of those
views of mountain, lake, and forest, which only can
be had from an elevated position; and as one of
these views suddenly appears, and then is cut off
by a turn in the road, to be presently succeeded by
another, we have a foretaste of what we are going
to enjoy when we arrive at the top. The scenery
immediately about the railway is also very inter-
esting, and some of the incidents of the trip are not
only novel but startling. Sometimes the little
train traverses regions of wild forest and rocks;
sometimes it winds along the edge of savage pre-
cipices ; now it passes into a dark and dreary tun-
nel, from which it emerges to take an airy flight
over a long and narrow bridge, which we in the
car can not see beneath us, and where we look far
down upon the tree-tops we are passing over.
Through wild and desolate scenes, by forests,
rocks, and waterfalls, we pass, the little locomotive
always puffing and pushing vigorously behind us,
until we reach a level plateau, on which stands a
large and handsome hotel, with numerous out-
buildings. This is called the Rigi Kaltbad, and
the situation is a very beautiful one. Many people
come here to spend days, and even weeks, enjoy-
ing the mountain walks and the grand scenery.
But, after a short stop at the station here, our
train passes on, and before long we reach an-
other plateau, much higher up, which is called
Rigi Staffel, where there is another large hotel.
Then, on we go, up a steep ledge, on the edge
of a cliff, which it seems impossible that any
train could ascend, until we reach the Rigi Kuhm,
the highest part of the mountain. When we
alight from the train, we see a large and handsome
hotel, with several smaller buildings surrounding
it, but we find we are not on the very loftiest peak
of the Kulm. To this point we must walk, but
there are broad and easy paths leading to it, and
the ascent is not very great, and does not require
many minutes.

428

[APRIL,

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HIOW WE GET THERE

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429

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A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

When we walk past the hotel, and the upper-
most part of the Kulm comes into view, the first
thing that catches our attention is a long line of
wide-spread white umbrellas. As we rise higher,
we see that these umbrellas are not held by any-
body, but each one is fastened over a small stand,

place a fenced pathway leads into a little wood and
a notice informs him that he may enter and get a
view of the Black Falls for four cents.
When I was at Grindelwald, a little village
among the Higher Alps, I went part way up a
mountain, to visit a glacier. These masses of ice,

' I

- .4

- i;

I,,I

j .I
. 'h "' ' i ii

DIAGRAM OF THE LAKE OF LUCERNE AND THE RIGI,

containing articles of carved wood or ivory, boxes,
bears, birds, spoons, forks, and all those useful
and ornamental little things which the Swiss
make so well and are so anxious to sell. There
are so many of these booths and stands, with the
women and men attending to them, that it seems
as if a little fair, or bazaar, is being held on the
top of the mountain.
We shall doubtless be surprised that the first
thing that attracts our attention at this famous
place should be preparations to make money out
of us; but everywhere through Switzerland the
traveler finds people who wish to sell him some-
thing, or who continually volunteer to do some-
thing for which they wish him to pay. As he
drives along the country roads, little girls throw
bunches of wild flowers into his carriage and then
run by its side expecting some money in return.
By the roadside, in the most lonely places, he
will find women and girls sitting behind little tables
on which they are making lace, which, with a col-
lection of tiny Swiss chalets, and articles of carved
wood, they are very eager to sell. When the road
passes near a precipitous mountain-side, he will
find a man with a long Alpine horn, who awakens
the echoes and expects some pennies. At another

SHOWING RAILWAY TO THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN.

which lie in the ravines of the mountains, are often
of great depth, extending downward for hundreds
of feet, and are formed by the melting of the
snow in the lower part of the snow-fields above.
The water trickles down when the sun shines on it,
and is frozen at night, and thus, in the course of
centuries, a vast and solid mass of ice is formed
which is sometimes 1500 feet thick. In the glacier
which I visited, a long tunnel had been cut, through
which a person could comfortably walk, and this
led to a fairly large room hewn in the very heart of
the glacier, and called the Ice Grotto. There were
lamps placed here and there, by which this frigid
passage was dimly lighted, and the sensation of
finding one's self in the middle of a vast block of
ice was truly novel. The walls and roof of the tun-
nel were transparent for a considerable distance,
and I could look into the very substance of the
clear blue ice around me. I followed the man who
acted as my guide to the end of the tunnel, and
then we mounted a few steps into the grotto, which
was lighted by a single lamp. The moment I set
foot inside this wonderful chamber, with walls, roof,
and floor of purest ice, I heard a queer tinkling
and thumping in one corner, and looking there, I
saw two old women, each playing on a doleful

[APRIL,

430

o -4-;

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

little zither. They looked like two horrible old
witches of the ice. Of course I knew that they
were playing for my benefit; and I wondered if
they always sat there in that enormous refrigerator,
waiting for the visitors who might enter and give
them a few centimes in return for their mournful
strumming. But when I went out, I found that the
old women soon followed, and I suppose they go
into the glacier and ensconce themselves in their
freezing retreat, whenever they see a tourist coming
up the mountain-side.
And now, having recovered from our slight sur-
prise at seeing the signs of traffic on the very top
of the mountain, we pass the booths and advance
to a wooden railing, which is built on the north-
ern edge of the Kulm. The first thing that
strikes our eyes is a vast plain, lying far below us,
which, to some people, seems at first like an im-
mense marsh, partly green and partly covered
with dark patches, and with pools of water here
and there. But when the eye becomes accustomed
to this extent of view, we see that those dark
patches are great forests ; that those pools are lakes,
on the shores of which towns and cities are built;
and this plain before us is the whole of North
Switzerland.
As we turn and look about us, we see a pano-
rama of three hundred miles in circuit. To the
south lies a mighty and glorious range of snow-clad
Alps, one hundred and twenty miles in length.
We see the white peaks glittering in the sun, the
darker glaciers in the ravines, the wide snow-fields,
clear and distinct. Between us and these giants
are lower mountains, some green and wooded,
some bold and rocky. Towns, villages, and clalets
are dotted everywhere in the valleys and on the
plains.
The view is one of the grandest and most beauti-
ful in Europe.
The north side of the Rigi is almost precipitous,
and as we again lean over the railing and look
down its dizzy slopes, we see lying at our very feet
the whole Lake of Zug. Three large towns are
upon its banks, and a number of Il i A
steamboat, apparently about the size of a spool
of cotton, is making its way across the lake. To
the left, a great part of the lake of Lucerne is vis-
ible, with the city of Lucerne at one end of it, its
pinnacles, towers, and walls plainly in view. Away
to the north, we see a portion of the city of Zurich,
although the greater part of it is hidden by an inter-
vening hill. On the northern horizon, lies the fa-
mous Black Forest, and the long line of the Jura
Mountains is visible to the west. Looking here
and there, we can count, in all, thirteen lakes.
The top of the Kulm is rounded and grassy,
and we can walk about and look at the wonderful

views from various points. At one place there is.
a high wooden platform, to which we ascend by
steps, at the side of which hangs a little box with
a hole in the top, with an inscription in three lan-
guages asking us not to forget to remember the
owner of this belvedere. From this platform, which
is provided with a railing and benches, we can get
a clear view in every direction ; and stuck about
in little sockets, are small colored glasses, through
which we may look at the landscape. WVhen we
hold a yellow one before our eyes, mountains and
plains seem glowing beneath a golden sky; a red
one gives us an idea that the whole world is on
fire; while through a blue one everything looks.
cold, dreary, and cheerless.
But we quickly put down the glasses. We want
no such things as these to help us enjoy those glo-
rious scenes.
While we stand and gaze from the wide-spread
plain to the stupendous mountain ranges, the sun
begins to set; and as it sinks below the horizon,
the white peaks and snowy masses of the long line
of Alps arei ..,, 11. tinged with that beautiful
rosy tint which is called the after-glow. Never
were mountains more beautiful than these now
appear, and we remain and look upon them until
they fade away into the cold, desolate, and awful
regions that they are.
The view of the sunrise from the Kulm is one
of the great sights enjoyed by visitors, and many
persons come to the Rigi on purpose to witness
it. On fine mornings, hundreds of tourists may be
seen ,1..-.!.:.I together at daybreak on the top of
the Kulm. It is generally very cold at this hour,
and they are wrapped in overcoats, shawls, and
even blankets taken from the beds, although there
are notices in each of the hotel rooms that this is.
forbidden. But all shivering and shaking is for-
gotten when, one after another, the highest snow-
peaks are lighted up by the sun, which has not yet
appeared to view, and when, gradually and beauti-
fully, the whole vast landscape is flooded with the
glory of the day.
But the people who go up on the Rigi to make
a stay at the hotels do not content themselves with
gazing at the grand panorama to be seen from the
Kulm. The life and the scenes on the mountain
itself are full of interest. Its promontories, slopes,
and valleys are covered with rich grass, over which
it is delightful to ramble and climb. Below the
Rigi Staffel is a beautiful green hollow, called the
valley of KlIsterli; handsome cattle, with their-
tinkling bells, ramble over its rich pastures; and
the brown cottages of the herdsmen are seen
here and there. There is a Capuchin monastery
and chapel in this valley, which was built nearly
two hundred years ago, where the Sunday congre-

1886.]

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

gation is composed of the herdsmen on the mount-
ain. A branch railroad, about four miles long,
runs on a ridge of the mountain to a promontory
called the Scheideck, from which an admirable
prospect may be had, and where there is a hotel;
and from the Kaltbad, which was mentioned be-
fore, there is a pleasant rural walk toward the
other end of the Rigi range, to a place called the
Kanzli, from which the most charming views, near
and distant, may be had.
Never was there a mountain so well adapted to
boys and girls as the Rigi. Once arrived upon
the upper parts of this mountain, which stretches
far and wide, there is found every inducement
for scramble, walk, and climb, in places which are
not at all dangerous. The Rothstock, the Kulm,
and other grassy peaks, can be ascended; long
tramps can be taken through the valleys; the
herdsmen's cottages and the monastery can be
visited; and all this in a mountain air which gives
one strength, spirit, and appetite.
The young folk, as well as grown people, are to
be seen rambling everywhere. One day, as I was
walking toward a place from which there was a good
view, I heard a step behind me, and directly I was
passed by a regular mountain climber. He was a
tall young man, with a mighty stride. He wore a
flannel shirt, with no coat or vest, but these hung
at his back from a strap around his waist. On his
powerful legs were knickerbockers and a pair of
long red stockings, and in his hand he held
a long-pointed alpenstock. Up the mountain,
straight toward the highest point of the Kulm, he
went, steadily and swiftly as a two-legged steam-
engine. He was such a man as we would proba-
bly meet on the snowy peaks of the Higher Alps,
if we should happen to be wandering there.
Shortly after this young athlete had passed, I
saw, coming down the mountain, a lady and her
little boy. The youngster, about six years old,
who marched behind his mother, was equipped
in true mountaineer style. His little coat hung at
his little back; on his little legs lie wore knicker-
bockers and long stockings, and on his feet a
pair of little hob-nailec shoes; in his hand he
carried a little alpenstock. His mother was a
good walker, but she did not leave her boy behind.
Wxith strides as long as his little legs could make,
he followed her bravely down the hill, punching
his sharp stick into the ground at every step, as if
he wished to make the mountain feel that he was
there. lie was just as full of the spirit of the
Alpine climber, and enjoyed his tramp quite as
much, as the practiced mountaineer who was
striding away toward the Kulm.
Girls there were too, whole parties of them,
each with an alpenstock in her hand, on every

grassy knoll, on very path through the valleys, or
along the ridges. In ordinary life it is not custo-
mary for girls and ladies to carry sticks or canes,
but some of these become so fond of their long
alpenstocks that I have seen girls with these iron-
pointed sticks in their hands, walking about the
cities of Switzerland, where they were of no more
use than a third shoe.
It is not only in fine weather that life on this
mountain is to be enjoyed. The approach of a
storm is a grand sight; great clouds gathering on
the crests of the higher peaks of the mountain
chains, and sweeping down in battle array upon
hills, valleys, and plains. Even in the rain, the
views have a strange and varied appearance which
is very attractive, and every change in the weather
produces changes in the landscape, sometimes
quite novel and unexpected, and almost always
grand or beautiful.
There is only one kind of weather in which the
Rigi is not attractive. On my third day on the
mountain I was sitting in the dining-room of the
hotel, taking my midday meal, with about a hun-
dred other guests, when I heard a loud groan from
one of the tables; then there was another and
another; and, directly, a chorus of groans arose
from every part of thelong dining-room. Looking
about to see what was the matter, I noticed that
everybody was staring out of the windows. When I
looked out I saw a sight that was worth seeing, and
one that was enough to make anybody groan who
knew what it meant. A great cloud was coming
down out of the sky directly upon the Rigi. It was
heavy and gray, and its form was plainly defined
in the clear air around it. When it had spread it-
self above us, almost touching the roof of the
house, we could see, below its far-reaching edges,
the distant landscape still sparkling in the sunlight.
Then it came down, and blotted us out from the
view of all the world. To the people below, the
top of the Rigi was covered with a cloud, and to
us there was nothing to be seen twenty feet from
the window. Now there were no views, there were
no walks, there was no sitting out-of-doors, there
was nothing that one came to the Rigi for. No
wonder that the people groaned. All their plans
for outdoor pleasure had been brought to a sudden
end by this swiftly descending cloud, which those
who were wise in such matters believed would not
soon disappear. It was evidently the beginning of
bad weather, and those who remained on the
mountain-tops must live in the clouds for several
days. When nothing was to be seen, and noth-
ing was to be done, it was a good time to leave the
Rigi; and so, in company with a great many other
visitors, for it was near the. end of the season, and
people could not wait for better weather, as they

[APRIL,

432

A MOUNTAIN-TOP AND HOW WE GET THERE.

---- ...----- r e -.-,--- -

I T

I I
I t i -

.w .9 A
't )4 L -i^ .^ :. i i '-"1A
!I j".- --- '. -
t, t:P, -C :. *- <*I ..i* ..

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of the mountain, knowing very well that the little of that interesting mountain, with its beauti-
locomotive could find its way down, cloud or no ful green slopes and peaks, its magnificent pano-

VOL. XIII.- 28.
J, r

SOMIETIMlES, ON THE ROCKS, WE SEE A\ GIRL BLOWING A HORN TO CALL TOGETIHIEIR IirR FLOCK- OF GOATS. (PAGE 426.)
would have done a few weeks earlier, I took leave recollections, which no rain could ever wash away,
of the mountain, knowing very well that the little of that interesting mountain, with its beanti-
locomotive could find its way down, cloud or no ful green slopes and peaks, its magnificent pano-
cloud, ramas, its happy boys and girls, its pleasant sum-
We may not have such an experience as this, mer life, its picturesque glades, and herds, and-
but we shall leave the Rigi, carrying with us its railway to the top.
VOL. XIII.--28.

1886.]

A VOYAGE.

A VOYAGE.

BY HARLAN H. BALLARD.

WHEN sleep is coy and slumbers flee,
I hasten down to the dream-land sea,
Where Fancy's boat
Doth lightly float
On the silent waters, awaiting me.

I care not where the far shores be
Of the waters that sparkle so bright and free;
I leap from the strand,
And, oar in hand,
I ride on the tide of the mystic sea.

I slip away from the cares of day,
And silently drift away, away,
Till dream-clouds dense
Hide the shores of sense,
And the land and the sky and the sea grow gray.

Now glides my boat into darkness deep;
Now cease my oars their rhythmic sweep;
For full in view,
A fairy crew
Is spreading the shadowy sails of sleep.

S/ /

/ / *^ *
":t^ " "

l. ^ 1 .l *.l /

S
"THREE LITTLE AIDS FROM SCHOOL, ARE WE."

[APRIL,

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.
[A Historical Biografly.l

BY HORACE E. SCUDDER.

CHAPTER X.

A TERRIBLE LESSON IN WAR.

HOWEVER keenly Washington may have felt
the defeat which he suffered at Great Meadows,
no one blamed him for a misfortune which he
had tried in so spirited a fashion to prevent. On
the contrary, the House of Burgesses, then in
session, after hearing an account of the en-
gagement and reading the articles of capitulation,
passed a vote of thanks to Colonel Washington
and his officers for their bravery and gallant de-
fense of their country." In point of fact, the ex-
pedition had by no means been a failure. It had
built many miles of road; it had shown that the
Virginian soldiers could fight, and it had made the
French respect their enemy.
To Washington it had been an initiation into
military service. He had heard the bullets
whistling about him, and had known what it was
to lead men; he had encountered on a small scale
the difficulties which beset commanders of armies;
he had stood for nine hours under fire from a su-
perior force. Not all the hardships of the sharp
campaign could dampen his ardor. He knew that
he was a soldier; he knew, too, that he was a com-
mander, and such knowledge is much more than
petty conceit.
He was to be put to the test in this matter in a
new way. He went back to Alexandria, where his
regiment was quartered, and shortly after received
word from Governor Dinwiddie to be in readiness
for a fresh movement. It had been resolved to send
another expedition to attack Fort Duquesne, and
Washington was bidden to at once fill up his regiment
to three hundred men and join the other forces at
Wills Creek. Eager as the young colonel was for
service, he had not taken leave of his good sense.
He was something more than a fighter, and his
native judgment, as well as his hard-earned ex-
perience, showed him the foolhardiness of such an
adventure. It does not appear that he wrote to
his superior officer, the Governor, remonstrating
against the wild project, but he wrote to Lord
Fairfax, who had influence, giving his reasons why
the enterprise was morally impossible.
They were without money, men, or provisions.
It would be impossible in any case to move before
November, and he knew well enough, by his ex-

perience the year before, what a terrible winter
campaign it would be. "To show you the state
of the regiment," he writes to Lord Fairfax, I
have sent you a report by which you will perceive
what great deficiencies there are of men, arms,
tents, kettles, screws (which was a fatal want be-
fore), bayonets, cartouch-boxes, and everything
else. Again, were our men ever so 11;ii to go,
for want of the proper necessaries of life they are
unable to do it. The chief part are almost naked,
and scarcely a man has either shoes, stockings, or
a hat. These things the merchants will not credit
them for. The country has made no provision;
they have not money themselves, and it can not be
expected that the officers will engage for them
again, personally, having suffered greatly on this
head already; especially now, when we have all the
reason in the world to believe that they will desert
whenever they have an opportunity. There is not
a man that has a blanket to secure him from cold
or wet. Ammunition is a material object, and
that is to come from Williamsburg or wherever the
Governor can procure it. An account must be first
sent of the quantity which is wanted; this, added
to the carriage up, with the necessary tools that
must be had, as well as the time for bringing them
round, will, I believe, advance us into that season,
when it is usual, in more moderate climates, to
retreat into winter-quarters, but here, with us, to
begin a campaign "
The argument of Washington's letter, of which
this is a part, was unanswerable. It showed his
clear, cool judgment, and the thoroughness with
which he considered every detail in a scheme. The
Governor gave up his design, but it was not long
before he stumbled into a new folly. He had per-
suaded the Burgesses to grant twenty thousand
pounds for military operations, and had received
ten thousand more from England. So he set about
enlarging the army to ten independent companies
of one hundred men each, proposing to place each
company under command of a captain. He hoped
in this way to be rid of the jealousy which existed
between the several officers, since there would be
none above the rank of captain.
The plan was only inferior to one by which every
soldier who enlisted should have been made cap-
tain, so that nobody need be inferior to anybody
else. -.' -... .., not only saw the folly of the
proceeding from a military point of view, (for many

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

of his difficulties had arisen from the presence
of independent companies in the field with his
troops,) but he resented the plan as at once reduc-
ing him from the rank of colonel to that of cap-
tain. He had risen to the position which he held
by regular promotion for bravery and soldierly
qualities. He could not be the football of a ca-
pricious governor, and he resigned his commission.
He was instantly wanted in another quarter.
Governor Sharpe of Maryland had received a com-
mission from the King, as Commander-in-chief of
all the forces in America engaged against the
French. As soon as it was known that Washington
had resigned his commission as colonel of a Vir-
ginia regiment, Governor Sharpe sent to invite him
to return to the service under his command. He
was to have command of a company, but to retain
his rank as colonel. V .i ...-.r i, replied at once
that he could not think of accepting service upon
such terms. He was not to be cajoled into assum-
ing a false position. He cared little for the title.
What he wanted was the authority which goes with
the title. There was no pressing danger to the
country, and he was not so impatient to be in mil-
itary service that he needed as a soldier to throw
away the position which he had fairly won.
There was one consideration which especially
determined Washington against serving either as
captain of an independent company in Virginia,
or as one of Governor Sharpe's captains, with the
complimentary title of colonel. By a i .... i ,;..,
of government, all officers commissioned by the
King took rank above officers commissioned by the
governors of provinces. It seems that the English
authorities were determined to make the colonies
understand that their militia officers were always
inferior to the regular army officers who came over
from England.
There was such an officer sent over shortly after
this to take command of all the forces in the col-
onies. This was Major-General Edward Braddock.
He had been in military service forty-five years
and he knew all the rules of war. He was a brave,
hot-headed man, who knew to a nicety just how
troops should be drawn up, how they should march
and perform all the evolutions, how a captain
should salute his superior officer, and how much
pipeclay a soldier needed to keep his accouter-
ments bright. He was a rigid disciplinarian, and
was called harsh and cruel, but that, very likely,
was because he demanded strict and instant
obedience.
In February, 1755, General Braddock arrived
in Virginia, with two regiments of regular troops
from England. Governor Dinwiddie was delighted.
He should have no more trouble with obstinate
Burgesses and quarrelsome Virginia captains.

Everybody expected that the French would at once
be driven out of the Ohio valley, and General Brad-
dock was not the least confident. There was a
bustle in every quarter, and Alexandria was made
the headquarters from which troops, military stores
and provisions were to be sent forward, for they
could be brought up the river to that point in men-
of-war and transports.
As soon as Braddock had arrived in the country,
Washington had addressed him a letter of welcome,
and now he was keenly intent on the General's
movements. From Mount Vernon he could see
the ships in the Potomac and hear the din of
preparation. He could not ride into town or to
Belvoir without being in the midst of the excite-
ment. This was something very different from
the poor, niggardly conduct of war which he had
known in the colony. It was on a great scale; it
was war carried on by His Majesty's troops, well-
clad, splendidly equipped and drilled under the
lead of a veteran general. He longed to join
them. Here would be a chance such as he had
never had, to learn something of the art of war;
but he held no commission now, and had not even
a company to offer. Nor was he ,II1.,. to be a
militia captain and subject to the orders of some
lieutenant in the regular army.
He was considering how he might volunteer,
when he received exactly the kind of invitation
which he desired. He was a marked man now,
and it did not take long for word to reach General
Braddock that the young Virginian colonel, who
had shown great spirit and ability in the recent
expedition, and was thoroughly familiar with the
route they were to take, desired to serve under
him, but not as a subordinate captain. There was
a way out of the difficulty, and the General at once
invited Washington to join his military family as
aid-de-camp.
Washington joyfully accepted. There was only
one drawback to his pleasure. His mother, as
soon as she heard of his decision, was filled with
alarm, and hurried to Mount Vernon to beg her
son to reconsider. No doubt they both remem-
bered how, at her earnest wish, he had abandoned
his purpose to join the British navy, eight or nine
years before. But these eight or nine years had
made a great difference. He was a man now, and,
without loss of respect for his mother, he was bound
to decide for himself. He would be a loser by the
step in many ways. There was no one to
whom he could intrust the management of his
affairs at Mount Vernon, and his attendance on
General Braddock would involve him in consider-
able expense. Nor could he expect, as a mere
aid-de-camp, to advance his interests in the mili-
tary profession. Nevertheless, Washington had

436

[APRIL,

GEORGE WA

counted the cost, and not even his mother's en-
treaties turned him from his purpose.
At Alexandria, Washington first saw Braddock;
he met there also the Governors of Virginia, Mary-
land, Pennsylvania, NewYork, and Massachusetts,
who had gathered for a grand council on the cam-
paign. Washington, quiet but observant, looked
upon all the preparations with admiration, but
without losing his coolness of judgment. He saw
the heavy artillery which Braddock had brought,
and which was waiting for teams to transport it
over the mountains. He remembered how his
men had toiled in dragging their few guns over
the rough road. If our march is to be regulated
by the slow movements of the train," he said, it
will be tedious, very tedious indeed."
Early in May, Washington joined General Brad-
dock at Fredericktown, Maryland, and there he
must have met a man of more consequence than
all the governors of the colonies; for Benjamin
Franklin, Postmaster-General of Pennsylvania, at
that time a man of fifty years, came to confer with
General Braddock, and to do for him what no one
else could- procure horses and wagons enough to
transport his supplies and artillery. Franklin and
Washington probably seemed to most people at that
time as rather insignificant persons beside the
Major-General in command of the English forces in
America.
The headquarters were moved to Wills Creek,
where the militia had been hard at work with ax
and spade, and had built a fort which was named
Fort Cumberland, from the Duke of Cumberland,
Captain-General of the British army. For a month
Braddock fretted and fumed over the delays which
everybody seemed to cause. He was thoroughly out
of patience with all his surroundings. There were
in all about twenty-two hundred men gathered in
camp. Some of these were Virginia troops, and
Braddock set his officers to drilling them, but he
thought them a slouchy lot that never could be
made into soldiers. Indeed, it would have taken a
long time to make them into such machines as the
soldiers whom he had brought over from England.
Washington was fast learning many things. He
was not deceived by appearances. He found this
great general an obstinate, hot-tempered man,
who would scarcely listen to reason, and his sol-
diers, with all their military training, of different
stuff from the Virginians.
Washington was sent off on an errand to Will-
iamsburg for money. He performed his duty
with great promptness, and a week after his return
to camp, the army was on the move. But it moved
like a snail, for it was carrying a whole house on
its back. Braddock and his officers, accustomed
to campaigns in Europe, seemed to be unable to

LSHINGTON. 437

adapt themselves to the different conditions of a
new country. They encumbered themselves with
everything which English army regulations per-
mitted. Washington saw the folly of the course
pursued, and, when his advice was asked by the
General, urged him, he says, in the warmest terms
he was able to use, to push forward, if even
with a small but chosen band, with such artillery
and light stores as were necessary, leaving the
heavy artillery, baggage, and the like, with the
rear division of the army, to follow by slow and
easy marches, which they might do safely, while
we were advanced in front"; and in order to
enforce his opinion and to lead the officers to give
up some of their superfluous baggage, and thus
release horses for more necessary work, he gave
up his own best horse, and took no more baggage
than half his portmanteau could easily contain.
His advice prevailed, and he set out with the
advance party. It was a prospect, he wrote to his
brother, which conveyed infinite delight to his
mind, though he was excessively ill at the time.
"But this prospect was soon clouded, and my
hopes brought very low indeed, when I found
that, instead of pushing on with vigor, without
regarding a little rough road, they were halting to
level every molehill, and to erect bridges over
every brook, by which means we were four days in
getting twelve miles." Ill, indeed, he was, and for a
fortnight so prostrated with fever that he was forced
to lie in hospital. But as soon as he could move
at alll he insisted on rejoining his corps. My
fevers are very moderate," he writes to one of the
other aids on the last day of June, and, I hope,
near terminating. Then I shall have nothing to
encounter but weakness, which is excessive, and
the difficulty of getting to you, arising therefrom;
but this I would not miss doing, before you reach
Duquesne, for five hundred pounds. However, I
have no doubt now of doing it, as I am moving
on, and the General has given me his word of
honor, in the most solemn manner, that it shall
be effected."
On July 8, he succeeded in rejoining the ad-
vance division of the army, though he had to be
carried in a covered wagon. On July 9, he attended
the General on horseback, though he was still very
ill and weak. He had joined Braddock's military
family because he wished to learn how an ex-
perienced English general practiced the art of war,
and how regularly trained troops fought. He was
to have the opportunity that day. They had
reached a ford on the Monongahela, fifteen miles
from Fort Duquesne, and had crossed it. A second
ford lay five miles below, and the troops marched,
as if on dress parade, down the bank of the river.
Braddock intended that the French, if they saw

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

him, should be dismayed by the array, and Wash-
ington was often heard to say in after years, that
the most beautiful spectacle he had ever beheld
was the display of the British troops on that event-
ful morning. Every man was neatly dressed in
full uniform, the soldiers were arranged in columns
and marched in exact order, the sun gleamed from
their burnished arms; the river flowed tranquilly
on their right, and the deep forest overshadowed
them with solemn grandeur on their left. Officers
and men were equally inspirited with cheering
hopes and confident anticipations.
But Washington was not so dazzled by this
brilliant spectacle as not to see the fatal blunder
which Braddock was making. He urged the
General to throw out Virginia rangers and Indian
scouts into the woods and ravines which lay before
them and on their side. It is almost incredible that
the General paid no attention to the caution, and
merely kept a few skirmishers a short way in ad-
vance of his force. His army was now across the
second ford and moving along the other bank,
eight miles only from the fort. Suddenly a man,
dressed like an Indian, but bearing the decora-
tion of an officer, sprang forward from the woods,
faced the column a moment, then turned and
waved his hat.
It was an officer leading the French forces,
which, accompanied by a horde of Indian allies,
had issued from Fort Duquesne, and had disposed
themselves in the wood. Another instant, and a
storm of bullets rained down upon the English-
men. It was a surprise, but the troops were well
trained. They fired volley after volley into the
woods. They planted their cannon and went to
work in a business-like way, cheering as they
moved forward. For a moment the French seemed
to give way; then, in another instant, again the bul-
lets fell from all sides upon the Englishmen, who
were bewildered by the attack. They could scarcely
see any man; there was nothing to aim at. The
enemy was indeed invisible, for every man had
posted himself, Indian fashion, behind a tree.
Now the troops huddled together into a solid
square and made so much the more deadly mark
for the rifles. They fell into a panic; they began
to leave their guns and to retreat.
Braddock, who had been in the rear, came up with
the main body and met the vanguard on its retreat.
The two columns of men were thrown into confu-
sion. The Virginians alone, whom Braddock had
so despised for their negligent bearing, kept their
heads and promptly adopting tactics familiar to
them, screened themselves, as did the enemy, be-
hind trees. But Braddock, to whom such methods
were contrary to all the rules of war, ordered them,
with oaths, to form in line. The General was a

brave man, and if personal courage could have
saved the day, his intrepidity would have done it.
He dashed about on horseback. Two of the aids
were wounded, and the duty of carrying the Gen-
eral's orders fell on the third, Colonel Washington,
who was now learning war, with a vengeance.
He rode in every direction, his tall, commanding
figure a conspicuous mark for the enemy's sharp-
shooters. More than that, there were men there
who had met him at Great Meadows, and who now
made him their special mark. He had four bullets
through his coat, and two horses shot under him.
He seemed to escape injury as by a miracle.
Braddock at last ordered a retreat, and while he
and such of his officers as remained were endeavor-
ing to bring the panic-stricken troops into some
kind of order, he was mortally wounded and fell
from his horse. He was borne on a litter, but laid
at last at the foot of a tree near the scene of Wash-
ington's fight at Fort Necessity, where he died in
the night of July 13. The chaplain was wounded,
and Washington read the burial service over the
body of the General. It was a sorry ending of the
expedition which had set out with such high hopes.
Five days later Washington reached Fort Cum-
berland, and one of his first duties was to send a
letter to his mother. I am still in a weak and
feeble condition," he writes, "which induces me
to halt here two or three days in the hope of recov-
ering a little strength, to enable me to proceed
homewards, from whence, I fear, I shall not be
able to stir till towards September ; so that I shall
not have the pleasure of seeing you till then, unless
it be in Fairfax."
He arrived at Mount Vernon on July 26.

CHAPTER XI.

COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE VIRGINIA FORCES.

THE disastrous defeat of Braddock filled the Vir-
ginia people with uneasiness, for it was sure to be
followed by Indian raids. The House of Burgesses
voted a sum of money, and resolved to increase
the regiment by making it consist of sixteen com-
panies. His friends immediately began to urge
Washington to solicit the command, but he would
do nothing of the sort. His experience had taught
him the weakness of the colonial military system;
if he were to seek the place he could not at the
same time propose reforms. If the command were
offered to him, that would be a different matter,
for then he would be at liberty to make conditions.
The command was offered to him on his own
terms, and for three years he was engaged in as
trying and perplexing a business as could well be
committed to a young man of twenty-three to

[APRIL,

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

twenty-six years of age. He did not know it at
the time, but we see now that he was attending a
school of the severest sort in preparation for the
arduous task which was to be set him later in life.
His headquarters were at Winchester, where he
had the active support of his old friend Lord Fair-
fax. As soon as he had effected some sort of
organization, he sent out recruiting officers and did
his best to fill up the ranks of his little army.
Then he was off on a tour of inspection, visiting
the outposts and making himself acquainted, by
personal observation, with all the details of his
command.
Everything seemed to be against him, and every
advantage which he gained was won only by the
most determined effort. He must often have
thought with envy of the profusion of military
stores of all kinds with which Braddock's army
was provided, and of the abundant money in the
hands of the paymaster. Here was he, obliged to
use the strictest economy if he would make the
money which the Burgesses doled out answer the
needs of his command, and he was forced to be his
own commissary and quartermaster, laying in stores
and buying cattle up and down the country. At
the repeated instance of the soldiers, he writes
once to the Speaker of the House, "' I must pay so
much regard to their representations, as to trans-
mit their complaints. They think it extremely
hard, as it is indeed, sir, that they, who perhaps
do more duty, and undergo more fatigue and hard-
ship from the nature of the service and situation
of the country, should be allowed the least pay,
and smallest encouragements in other respects.
Our soldiers complain that their pay is insufficient
even to furnish shoes, shirts, and stockings, which
their officers, in order to keep them fit for duty,
oblige them to provide. This, they say, deprives
them of the means of purchasing any of the con-
veniences or accessories of life, and compels them
to drag through a disagreeable service, in the most
disagreeable manner. That their pay will not
afford more than enough to keep them in clothes,
I should be convinced for these reasons, if experi-
ence had not taught me. The British soldiers are
allowed eight pence sterling per day, with many
necessaries that ours are not, and can buy what is
requisite upon the cheapest terms; and they lie one-
half the year in camp or garrison, when they can-
not consume the fifth part of what ours do in contin-
ual marches over mountains, rocks and rivers. *
And I dare say you will be candid enough to allow
that few men would choose to have their lives ex-
posed to the incessant insults of a merciless enemy,
without some view or hope of reward."
But his difficulties with regard to money and
supplies were as nothing to those which he endured

when seeking to raise men, and to control them.
His recruiting officers were negligent. Several
officers," he writes at one time, "have been out
six weeks, or two months, without getting a man,
spending their time in all the gayety of pleasura-
ble mirth, with their relations and friends; not
attempting nor having a possible chance to recruit
any but those who, out of their inclination to the
service, will proffer themselves." At one time,
when the Shenandoah valley was in imminent
danger from Indians, he called upon Lord Fairfax
and other officers of the militia to put forth
special efforts to bring together all the men they
could raise for an expedition to go out and scour
the country, and when the day came, after all the
drumming and beating up of recruits, only fifteen
appeared !
Nor, after he had his men, could he bring
them under regular discipline. He had seen some-
thing of the order which prevailed under English
officers, and it brought into stronger contrast the
loose, independent ways of the Virginia militia,
where the men had very little notion of obedience,
and regarded an order as a request which they could
attend to or not as suited their convenience. All
this was exasperating enough to a high-spirited
commander, who knew that no effective military
work could be done when there was such a spirit,
and Washington prevailed upon the legislature to
enact a more stringent code of laws, which gave
more power to the commander, and compelled the
soldier to obey at risk of severe penalty. To ac-
complish this, he had to visit Williamsburg and
labor with the members of the legislature individ-
ually.
There is no doubt that Washington had very
troublesome material to make into soldiers, and
that, as a young commander, he was incensed by
their conduct, and ready to be very summary with
them. As a military man, he was also greatly an-
noyed by the indifferent manner in which he was
supported by the country people whom he was
engaged in protecting. One reason lay in the
peculiar life of Virginia. When an ignorant white
man found himself under strict orders, he resented
it, because he thought it placed him on a level
with negro slaves. Then there was no class of
intelligent, hard-working mechanics, from which
soldiers could be drafted. The planters' sons were
ready to be officers, but they did not care about
being privates. The better men in the ranks were
drawn from the hardy backwoodsmen, whose life
was a free, self-reliant one. In fact, the stubborn
Burgesses and independent soldiers were made
stubborn and independent by the life in America
which several generations of planters and frontiers-
men had been living. Washington was too near

439

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

. --

:, .. .....
_= .. t j ^ .--"

,'4 r"' -^ A *' '' m -. S i.

"WHILE ENDEAVORING TO BRING HIS PANIC-STRICKEN TROOPS INTO ORDER, BRADDOCK WAS MORTALLY WOUNDED." (SEE PAGE 438.)

'these people to understand this at the time, but
we can see that his troublesome soldiers were the
stuff out of which the fighting armies of the war
for independence were made.
The old trouble between provincial officers
and those appointed by the King continued; and
"\ ,.-!,, .( found himself balked in his plans
by a little whipper-snapper of a captain, who was

posted at Fort Cumberland and refused to take
orders from him. Even the Governor was timidly
unwilling to sustain the Commander-in-chief, and
in order to set the matter at rest, for the case was
one which involved much, Washington made a
journey to Boston to consult with Governor Shir-
ley, who at that time was at the head of all the
British forces in America.

i V

440

[APRIL,

--";I

~ii"

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

This journey of seven weeks, taken on horse-
back in the middle of winter, was the first which
the young Virginian had taken to the northward.
His route lay through Philadelphia, New York,
New London, and Newport; and everywhere that
he went he was received with great attention. He
obtained without difficulty the support of Governor
Shirley, and had a long and 11 .i..,. i, conference
with him upon the plans of the approaching cam-
paign. In one thing, however, he.was disappointed.
He had hoped to obtain a commission from the
Governor, as the King's representative, making him
an officer in the regular army. He sought this
more than once, but never obtained it. So much
the better, we think, for America. Had Washing-
ton received such a commission and risen to the
position in the British army which his genius
would have commanded, he might not have served
against his country, but it is not likely that he
would have served for it as he did.
Then he had unceasing trouble with Governor
Dinwiddie. The Governor was a fussy, opinion-
ated man, who showed much zeal in the defense
of Virginia, but not always a zeal according to
knowledge. He was constantly proposing
impracticable schemes, and it required great
patience and ingenuity on the part of Washington
to persuade the Governor out of his plans without
perpetually coming into open conflict with him.
He learned the part of the wise man who goes
around a difficulty if possible, rather than over it.
The position in which Washington stood during
these three years was indeed a very trying one.
He was expected to defend the western border of
Virginia against the incursions of the Indians, aided
by the French, who grew more audacious after the
defeat of Braddock. Yet he had, as it were, neither
men nor money at his command, and the Gov-
ernor and Burgesses, to whom he looked for aid,
were quarreling at the other end of the province.
His neighbors and friends gave him some help,
but there were only a few who really stood by him
in all weathers. More than once he was on the
point of resigning a position which brought him
scarcely anything but disappointment; but he was
prevented by the urgency of his friends and by the
crying needs of the settlers on the frontiers. If he
failed them, who would protect them? And so
this young man of twenty-four kept his post and
worked month after month to secure peace and
safety for them. How strongly he felt may be
seen by a letter which he wrote to Governor Din-
widdie at the time of their sorest need:

Your Honor may see to what unhappy straits the distressed in-
habitants and myself are reduced. 1 am too little acquainted, Sir,
with pathetic language to attempt a description of the people's dis-
tresses, though I have a generous soul, sensible of wrongs, and

swelling for redress. But what can I do? I see their situation,
know their danger, and participate in their sufferings, without having
it in my power to give them further relief than uncertain promises.
In short, I see inevitable destruction in so clear light that, unless
vigorous measures are taken by the Assembly, and speedy assistance
sent from below, the poor inhabitants that are now in forts must un-
avoidably fall, while the remainder are flying before the barbarous foe.
In fine, the melancholy situation of the people, the little prospectof
assistance, the gross and scandalous abuses cast upon the officers
in general, which is reflecting upon me in particular, for suffering
misconduct of such extraordinary kinds, and the distant prospect, if
any, of gaining honor and reputation in the service,- cause me to
lament the hour that gave me a commission, and would induce me
at any other time than this of imminentdanger, to resign without one
hesitating moment, a command, from which I never expect to reap
either honoror benefit; but, on the contrary, have almost an abso-
lute certainty of incurring displeasure below [that is, at Williams-
burgh and in the older parts of the province], while the murder of
helpless families may be laid to my account here. The supplicating
tears of the women and the moving petitions of the men melt me into
such deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare, if I know my own
mind, I could offer myself a willing sacrifice to the butchering enemy,
provided that would contribute to the people's ease."

It is no wonder that the constant anxiety and
hardship which he endured undermined his health,
and that for four months he was obliged to give up
his command and retire to Mount Vernon. Upon
his recovery, a brighter prospect opened. Din-
widdie was recalled and a more sensible lieutenant-
governor took his place. Best of all, Mr. Pitt, the
great English statesman, took direction of affairs
in England, and at once planned for the quick
ending of the war with France. He thrust out
inefficient generals, and put the armies in America
into the hands of resolute, able men. He won
over the colonies by a hearty interest in them, and
by counting on the colonial forces in the coming
campaigns. Then he pushed preparation for
attacking the French in their strongholds.
Washington was overjoyed at the news of
another movement against Fort Duquesne. Vir-
ginia raised two regiments to add to the British
regulars, who were under the command of General
Forbes. Washington was to be at the head of one
of these regiments, while still retaining his position
as Commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces. He
was in hearty accord with the English officers and
with the new governor, and he was at last with
men who understood his value and listened with
respect to his judgment. It is a great moment in
a young man's life when older men turn to him for
counsel, and if he has won his knowledge by solid
experience, he is not likely to have his head turned
by such attention. Washington had borne neg-
lect and misunderstanding; he had been left to
work out his plans by himself, and had for nearly
three years been learning to rely upon himself,
since there was no one else on whom he could lean.
So he had become strong, and other men now
leaned on him.
He was kept busy for some time at Winchester,
collecting men and material, and at last marched

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

to Fort Cumberland at the head of his forces.
The expedition against Fort Duquesne was a
different affair from that undertaken by Braddock.
A lesson had been learned, and Washington was
in a position now, not only to advise, but to carry
out plans. Braddock had refused to listen to his
advice, but Forbes and the other officers not onlylis-
tened, but gave him the lead in many things.
Washington had seen the folly of Braddock's elab-
orate and cumbersome outfit, and had urged him
to move more lightly equipped. Now he had his
way, and he took advantage of his men's lack of
regimental clothing to dress them like Indians.
" If I were left to pursue my own inclinations," he
wrote to the British commander, I would not
only order the men to adopt the Indian dress, but
cause the officers to do it also, and be the first to

l-V

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S -. ' .
,^ l" -i.. ,1 ^

P'U,-11

'I,

H' /

WASHINGTON IN THE INDIAN DRESS.

set the example myself. Nothing but the uncer-
tainty of obtaining the general approbation causes
me to hesitate a moment to leave my regimentals
at this place, and proceed as light as any Indian
in the woods. Itis an unbecoming dress, I own,
for an officer; but convenience rather than show,
I think, should be consulted." Fortunately he did
not have to deal with a pedantic officer. His dress
was approved and became very popular. It takes

very well here," wrote the British commander,
" and, thank God, we see nothing but shirts and
blankets."
It must not be supposed, however, that all now
went smoothly. On the contrary, Washington
had a bitter disappointment. The General, influ-
enced by the advice of some interested persons,
proposed to cut a new road through Pennsylvania
to Fort Duquesne. Washington remonstrated
with all his might. They already had the old road,
over which troops could be transported quickly
and the expedition be brought to a speedy close.
His remonstrance was in vain, and again he had
to use all his patience and self-command, as he saw
foolish counsels prevail. He was able, however,
to prevent General Forbes from dividing his forces
and sending part by one road, and part by another;
and he never indulged in a petty sulking
fit, because his advice was not followed, or
showed one whit less determination to do
his part. "I pray your interest, most sin-
cerely with the General," he wrote to Colo-
nel Bouquet, of the regular army, "to get
myself and my regiment included in the
number" (of the advance troops). "If any
argument is needed to obtain this favor,
I hope without vanity I may be allowed to
say, that, from long intimacy with these
woods, and frequent scouting in them, my
men are at least as well acquainted with
-. all the passes and difficulties, as any troops
that will be employed."
He had his way in this. He had his way
S also, though he cared less for that, in show-
,.'; ing the folly of the course pursued in open-
S ing a new road. However, the expedition
S succeeded, for when the General reached
-Y* Fort Duquesne, the French had withdrawn
their forces to meet a demand elsewhere,
and had burned the fort.
S The English now took possession of
that part of the country. People forgot
the mistakes which had been made. A
new fort was built and named Fort Pitt
(whence came the modern name of Pitts-
burgh), and Washington led his men back
to Winchester.
There was no longer any need of an
army to be kept in the field, now that the French
had been driven from the Ohio valley, and Wash-
ington resigned his commission. He had given up
any expectation of receiving a commission in the
British army, and he had indeed no longer a de-
sire to be a soldier by profession. As with his
brother Lawrence before him, something now oc-
curred in his life which made it easy for him to be
a Virginia planter.

[APRIL,

I
i
i

GEORGE WA

CHAPTER XII.
WASHINGTON AT MOUNT VERNON.
NEAR the end of May, 1758, Washington was
ordered by the Quartermaster-General of the
British forces to leave Winchester and make all
haste to '-; ii ..,--1 there to explain to the
Governor and council in what a desperate condition
the Virginia troops were as regarded clothing and
equipment. The army was making ready for its
expedition against Fort Duquesne, and so urgent
was the case that the young Commander-in-chief
of the volunteers was sent on this errand. He was
on horseback, for that was the only mode of travel,
and accompanied by Billy Bishop, once the mili-
tary servant of General Braddock, but, since the
death of the General, the faithful servant of the
young Virginian aid who had read the funeral
service over his dead master.
The two men had reached Williams Ferry, on
the Pamunkey River, and had crossed on the boat,
when they met Mr. Chamberlayne, a Virginia
gentleman, living in the neighborhood. The hos-
pitable planter insisted that Washington should at
once go to his house. It was forenoon, and dinner
would be served as usual, early, and after that
Colonel Washington could go forward to Williams-
burg, if go he must. Besides all that, there was
a charming young widow at his house Colonel
Washington must have known her, the daughter
of John Dandridge, and the wife of John Parke
Custis. Virginia hospitality was hard to resist,
and Washington yielded. He would stay to din-
ner if his host would let him hurry off immedi-
ately afterward.
Bishop was bidden to bring his master's horse
around after dinner in good season, and Wash-
ington surrendered himself to his host. Dinner
followed, and the afternoon went by, and Mr.
Chamberlayne was in excellent humor, as he kept
one eye on the restless horses at the door, and the
other on his guests, the tall, Indian-like officer and
the graceful, hazel-eyed, animated young widow.
Sunset came, and still Washington lingered. Then
Mr. Chamberlayne stoutly declared that no guest
was ever permitted to leave his house after sunset.
Mrs. Martha Custis was not the one to drive the
soldier away, and so Bishop was bidden to take the
horses back to the stable. Not till the next morn-
ing did the young colonel take his leave. Then
he dispatched his business promptly at Williams-
burg, and whenever he could get an hour dashed
over to White House, where Mrs. Custis lived. So
prompt was he about this business, also, that when
he returned to Winchester he had the promise of
the young widow that she would marry him as
soon as the campaign was over.

SSHINGTON. 443

So runs the story told by the grandson of Mrs.
Custis, for when she married Washington, January
6, 1759, she had two children, a girl of six and a
boy of four.
Washington took his wife and her little children
home to Mount Vernon, which was his own, since
Lawrence Washington's only child had died, and
his widow had married again. Martha Washing-
ton added her own large property to her husband's,
and he was now a rich man, with large estates and
with plenty to occupy him if he would devote him-
self to the care of his property.
From the time of his marriage until his death,
Washington wore a miniature portrait of his wife,
hung from his neck by a gold chain. My dear
Patsy," he calls her in his letters, and he was never
happier than when living with her in quiet at
Mount Vernon. They never had son or daughter;
but Washington loved dearly the boy and girl
whom his wife brought to him. The girl died
when she was sixteen; the boy grew up, married,
and became the father of several children.
". _i.:-.-1..: was broken with grief when his
wife's daughter died, and when the son died,
Washington adopted as his own the orphan chil-
dren whom John Custis left behind.
It was no light matter to be a Virginia planter,
when one had so high a standard of excellence as
George Washington had. The main crop which
he raised was tobacco, and the immediate atten-
tion which it required was only during a small part
of the year; but, as we have seen, a successful
planter was also a man of business, and i. Jil.
the governor of a little province. Many planters
contented themselves with leaving the care of their
estates and their negroes to overseers, while they
themselves spent their time in visiting and receiv-
ing visits, in sports, and in politics. That was not
Washington's way. He might easily have done
so, for he had money enough; but such a life
would have been very distasteful to a man who had
undergone the hardships of a soldier, and had ac-
quired habits of thoroughness and of love of work.
It would have been no pleasure to Washington to
be idle and self-indulgent, while seeing his fences
tumbling down, and knowing that he was spend-
ing more money for everything than was neces-
sary. The man who attends to his own -,ii,;-.,
and sees everything thriving under wise manage-
ment, is the most contented man, and Washing-
ton's heart was in his work.
So he looked after everything himself. He rose
early, often before light, when the days were short.
He breakfasted lightly at seven in the summer
and at eight in winter, and after breakfast was in the
saddle visiting the different parts of his estate, and
looking after any improvements he had ordered.

444 GEORGE WA

He was a splendid horseman and very fond of
breaking in new horses. Dinner followed at two
o'clock; he had an early tea; and when living at
home, he was often in bed by nine o'clock.
These were regular, old-fashioned hours, and
the life which he led enabled him to accomplish a
vast amount. He kept no clerk, but wrote out in
his large round hand all his letters and orders, en-
tered every item in his day-book and ledger, and was
scrupulously exact about every farthing of his ac-
counts. He did not guess how he stood at any time,
but he knew precisely how last year's crop com-
pared with this year's ; how many head of cattle
he had; how many acres he had planted with to-
bacco; what wood he had cut; and just what
goods he had ordered from London. He had been
appointed by the court, guardian of his wife's two
children, who had inherited property from their
father; and he kept all their accounts separate, with
the minutest care, for he held a trust to be sacred.
Twice a year he sent to his agent in London a
list of such articles as he needed; there were plows,
hoes, spades, and other agricultural implements;
drugs, groceries of various sorts, clothes both for
his family and for his negroes ; tools, books, busts,
and ornaments; household furniture, and linen.
Indeed, as one reads the long invoices which
Washington sent to London, he wonders how
people managed who had to send across the At-
lantic for everything they might possibly need for
the next six months. Then there were special
orders for the children; for Master Custis, six
years old," there were, besides Irish holland, fine
cambric, gloves, shoes, stockings, hats, combs, and
brushes, such items as these,-" one pair handsome
silver shoe and knee buckles, ten shillings' worth
of toys, and six little books, for children beginning
to read; while for Miss Custis, four years old,"
were a great variety of clothes, i,..i.ii; -. two
caps, two pairs of ruffles, two tuckers, bibs, and
aprons if fashionable," and finally, a "fashionable
dressed baby, ten -1,,!11.... and other toys" to
the same amount.
He required his agent to send him, with his bill
for all the goods, the original bills of the merchants
who sold the goods to the agent; then he copied
all these orders and bills, giving every item, and
in this way he had before him in his books an ex-
act statement, in every particular, of his transac-
tions.
He watched the market closely, and knew just
what the varying price of tobacco was, and what
he might expect for any other goods which he
sent to be sold. He was determined that every-
thing from his plantation should be of value and
should receive its full price. So high a reputation
did he secure for honesty that it was said that any

S H INGT 0 N.

barrel of flour that bore the brand of George
Washington, Mount Vernon, was exempted from
the customary inspection in the West India ports.
Like other Virginia planters, Washington was a
slave-holder. All the work on the plantations was
done by slaves, and no other method was supposed
possible. Washington was born into a society
where slaves were held as a matter of course, and
he inherited slaves. At that time the right to
own negroes was scarcely questioned, and slaves
were held throughout the colonies. There are few
things that test the character of a man more than his
treatment of those who are dependent upon him,-
his servants, his workmen, his children. Washington
was a just and a generous master. He cared for
his slaves, not merely because to have them well
and strong was more profitable, but because with-
out his care they would suffer. He looked after
them in their sickness because he was humane and
compassionate. He also required good work of
them. That was what they were for-- to work;
and he knew each man's capacity. He watched
them at their work, and as they would labor more
industriously when he was looking on, he made up
his mind what they could do, and then expected just
so much from them. But he was fair in all this;
he made allowances for different kinds of work, and
tried to be perfectly just in his requirements.
He even worked with his men, and that was a
rare thing for a Virginia planter to do. He kept
a diary of his occupation, so that we can follow the
farmer day after day.
This is the busy planter, with his hands full of
work; but there was another kindof life going on,
not in the quarters or the field, but in the house.
On rainy days, Washington took down his ledger
and posted it, and worked over his accounts, but
he was also the hospitable gentleman who opened
his doors wide to guests. Not only the neighbor-
ing families, the Fairfaxes, and others came and
went, but the man who had been Commander-in-
chief of the Virginia army and the best-known
military man in America, was sure to be visitedby
every one of distinction who passed that way. The
governors of Virginia and Maryland were his
guests; and he himself with his beautiful wife were
welcomed at Williamsburg and Annapolis and the
country-seats of the most notable people.
He was extremely fond of society. A grave,
silent man himself, he was very gallant and courtly,
and in those days moved through the stately min-
uet with a fine air. He admired beautiful women,
and he liked to listen to good talkers; he rarely
laughed loudly, but he had a sly amusement over
ludicrous things; and while he kept most people
at a distance by his serious manners, he had the
love of children and young people. After all, his

[APRIL,

GEORGE WAS II INGTON.

greatest pleasure was in those sports which were
akin to work and to that military life which had
been his passion. He was always ready for a fox-
hunt. As in his younger days he had ridden with
Lord Fairfax and the Fairfaxes of Belvoir, so now,
when he was master of Mount Vernon, he and his
friends were always out in the season, and when
night came, the party would meet at one house or
the other, for a merry supper, to be off aeain

i I ir. ., .' .1 .,. ...... .. ..
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11 I 11 .. .. . .. .

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WASHINGTON AND THE POACHED

great abundance. The borders of the estate are
washed by more than ten miles of tide-water; sev-
eral valuable fisheries appertain to it; the whole
shore, in fact, is one entire fishery." Here was
business and sport combined, and it was a great
occasion in the herring season, when the fish came
up in vast shoals, and the negroes turned out to
haul in the seine with its catch. In the season of
canvas-back ducks, also, Washington was out with
his fowling-piece early and late. The story is told

that he had been much annoyed by a lawless fel-
low who came without leave to shoot on the estate.
He came over from the Maryland shore, and hid
his boat in one of the creeks. One day Washing-
ton heard the report of a gun, and guessing it to
be that of this man, who had more than once been

warned to leave, he
sprang on his horse
and rode in the di-
rection of the sound.
He pushed his way
through the bushes
'* just as the man, who
had seen him ap-
proach,was pushing
S his boat off. The
S -i poacher raised his
:. gun, and aimed it
"i.' . 7. at Washington, who
.-. spurred his horse at
once into the water
and seized the boat
before the man knew
what he was about.
.- -, Then Washington,
.' "'k iwho had a powerful
arm, seized the fel-
loxw and gave him
a sound thrashing,
and was never troub-
led by him again.
There was always a
W ashington to sur-
S pr ise people. There
was the still, self-
controlled, grave
\ man, who suddenly
c.. flashed forth in a
S resolute act, seizing
the opportunity,and
---. doing the one thing
e which was instantly
demanded; and
there was the quick-
tempered, fiery man
r. who held himself in
check, waited for
other people to speak and act, and then came for-
ward with a few plain, deliberate words, which
showed that he had grasped the whole situation,
and could be depended on to carry through his
resolution patiently and persistently.
There were, as I have said, few towns in Vir-
ginia. The divisions were by parishes, after the
old English custom, and so when a man was of
importance in his neighborhood he was very apt
to be a vestryman in his parish. Mount Vernon

1886.]

445

-,,_ -

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

was in Truro parish, and Washington was a vestry-
man there, as also in Fairfax parish. It happened
that the church of Truro parish had fallen into
decay, and was in a sorry condition. It was neces-
sary to build a new one, and several meetings were
held, for two parties had sprung up, one wishing
to rebuild on the same spot; and another urging
some location more convenient to the parishioners,
for the place where the old church had stood was
not a central one. Finally a meeting was called
to settle the matter. One of '. ". :b, i .- friends,
George Mason, a man of fine speech, rose up and
spoke most eloquently in favor of holding to the
old site; there their fathers had worshiped, and
there had their bodies been laid to rest. Every
one seemed moved and ready to accept Mason's
proposal.

Washington had also come prepared with a plea.
He had not Mason's power of speech, but he took
from his pocket a roll of paper and spread it before
the meeting. On this sheet he had drawn off a
plan of Truro parish; upon the plan were marked
plainly the site of the old church, the place where
every parishioner lived, and the spot which he
advised as the site for the new church. He said
very little ; he simply showed the people his sur-
vey, and let them see for themselves that every
consideration of convenience and fairness pointed
to the new site as the one to be chosen. His argu-
ment was the argument of good sense and reason-
ableness, and it carried the day against Mason's
eloquent speech. Pohick Church, which was built
on the new site, was constructed from plans which
Washington himself drew.
continued )

;rIjj~j Y ' sr i Y

I ONCE was an icicle, long and bright,"
Drip, drip, drip.!
Sparkling and dazzling, and clear as light,"
Drip, drip, drip !
I loved the frost above everything;
But now it is much too mild, like spring,"
Drip, drip, drip!
I shall surely melt out of sight !"

"When all the world shivered, I prospered
the more; "
Drip, drip, drip !
But now all the best of my days are o' er."
Drip, drip, drip !
I hate the heat of the great, bright sun,-
I declare- why "- (drip!) -" why, my
hours have run !"
Drip! D-r-i-p! D-r-i-p!
And the icicle is no more!

;' : "I ; : '. i

446

[APRIL,

I

B 5

1

o

x886.]

"WAIT! "- A NEW TIME-TABLE FOR BOYs
AND GIRLS.

EVERYBODY knows the time-tables that tell at
what hours trains come and go. Travelers consult
them to learn how to reach their destination; when
to start; how long they are to be on their way;
where they will make stops ; and many other things
to be found out before a journey is undertaken.
But there are other time-tables, on all railroads,
of which the passengers know nothing. These
schedules are made out for the conductors and
engineers, and show the exact second at which
each train is due at each station, along the whole
line of the road. You see there are so many trains
running both ways, every day, that the most exact
arrangements must be made for their passing one
another at the right places. If a single train is be-
hind, it throws all the rest out of order. So every
conductor is instructed by his time-table where to
wait, if another train is late, how many minutes to
hold back his own train, how far he may then
push on, and how long he is again to wait. Mean-
while, the belated conductor is instructed by his
time-table how to avoid danger. If he can not
reach such a station at such a time, he must stand
still, at whatever safety-point he may have reached
till the approaching train has passed him. Let but
one man on the line disregard or misinterpret his
instructions, and a frightful collision may follow.
Indeed, some of the most dreadful casualties ever
known have been caused by the pushing on of a
train that should have been kept back. That is
why I have selected, for the motto of our private
time-table, "Wait!" It might well be written
three times over, Wait wait I wait!" If we are
angry,--wait! If we are tired,- wait! If we are
perplexed,-wait!
After all, managing ourselves is not so very
unlike managing a train. As the train must be
in good order,-engine, brakes, wheels, couplings,
-to make time; so we must keep organs and senses
up to the mark, or drop behind. Other people
who have better health, greater strength, more
industry, will run ahead of us, do more good, enjoy
life better, improve faster.
Again, the greatest dangers that threaten trains

are collisions, and running off the track. Well,
don't we stand in the same peril? I am sure that
we are too apt to have collisions with other people,
collisions with circumstances, collisions with our
own weaknesses and perversities, even. And when
we spend our time trying to do l. rli.ri,.- that we
don't know how to do; when we are idle, and
hinder busy people; when we act as if we believed
that any sort of good end could be reached with-
out hard work, and steady work, and cheerful work,
we are certainly off the track.
Well, then, when we know that such is our
plight, don't you think that the sooner we stop,
the better? Whether it is a question of possible
collision, as in a rudeness to some one of the home
circle, a quarrel with a friend, an unkind word to
a servant; or of running off the track through
headlong blundering, or bad preparation, or igno-
rance, or willfulness, we might, half the time at
least, save ourselves from these misadventures, if
we took time to think, if we remembered to "wait."
Perhaps a jingle which I have written may help
you to recall this good advice (for we are apt to
forget good advice when we most require it), at
the moment when you find yourselves in danger.

A NEW TIME-TABLE-"WAIT!"

WHEN you are puzzled and perplexed,
Leave off the worrying debate,
And think of other things awhile;
You 'll see it clearer, if you wait."

When temper rises, hot and quick,
And you are vexed at friend or mate;
Watch your time-table I stop just there l
Save the collision Simply wait! "

Each thing in nature keeps this law,
The smallest plant abides its date,-
And summer's heat, and winter's flaw,
And storm, and calm, their season "wait."

This is the law that rules our lot,
And holds the whole of human fate;
He conquers who has force to strive,
And equal patience has-to "wait."

A NEW TIME-TABLE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

NEW BITS OF TALK FOR YOUNG FOLK.

BY (H. H.) HELEN JACKSON.

448

"IT is beastly! said John Dowd.
What is beastly? said Oliver, and he looked
over John's shoulder at the Boston Transcript,
which he was reading.
John showed him the paragraph.
"I have not read it," he said, pretending to
-shudder. "Take the paper and read it if you
can. It is an account of a Vacation- School.
Fancy a vacation school! We shall have a
man here to-morrow selling sour sugar. Then
they will make you play tennis with a square ball.
I beg your pardon, Miss Holder, I should have
said a 'cubical ball.' I beg your pardon, Mr. Hal-
.sted, I should have said the man will sell 'acid
hydrate of carbon, C12 H11 O77-777.' "
They all were sitting on the southeast piazza,
at Waterville, in the very heart of the White
Mountains.
Miss Holder was just the nicest, jolliest, prettiest
schoolmistress, who ever led a party of rollicking
boys and girls up to Greeley's Pond, and John
liked to twit her.
He was pleased with his fancy, and when the
Rev. Dr. Ewing and Judge Thoulet came up, he
cried out:
"Judge Thoulet, they propose to have a bench
of unjust judges in Boston; Dr. Ewing, they are
going to appoint some profane clergymen. You
will find all about it in the Transcrit. They
begin with vacation-schools."
The gentlemen were amused by his wrath, and
even the ladies turned a minute from their crochet
counting. Judge Thoulet would not so much as
look at the paper.
"I know all about it," said he. That letter
you mailed for me yesterday, at Bear Mountain,
contained my check for fifty dollars for the Indus-
trial Vacation-School! '"
John groaned.
"Industrial!" he cried, "that is one grade
worse !"
Why," said the Judge laughing, I know no
one who has been more industrious than you, in
the building of the 'Fire-fly,' else dear Miss Hol-
der could never have presided at the launching."
My dear sir," said the boy, "we will not quar-
rel about names.-But, yes, we will! Vacation
means not going to school. It means freedom to
do as you please, to walk or ride or shoot or swim,
but to have a good time. The idea of going to
school in vacation is a fraud and a snare, instituted

by the elders, and is something which they ought
not to propose, and ought not to encourage. Cer-
tainly it should not be encouraged by the young
people."
I do not know any young people who do more
to encourage it," replied the Judge. I should
never have sent my fifty dollars, if I had not seen
to how much purpose you use your vacation. It
is clear that Waterville life is the best thing for
you, and you may thank the city fathers, and the
school committees for gradually lengthening the
summer vacation for you. Have they found out,
perhaps, that sc/ola once meant leisure? Fathers
and mothers are willing to agree that it is wise to
take you from your lessons, and they find out at the
end of the summer that you go back to your books
with pluck, and even the studies come out fresher
after the summer's idleness. I am sure you have
been learning the ways of birds and beasts, and
all growing things. Tom has shot his quawk,
and learned how to stuff it, and where to place
it in the heron tribe, and Sally has amazed me
with her microscope. I should never else have
known how that lovely fern manages with its
spores. Are not half of you at this moment writ-
ing to ST. NICHOLAS your notes for the Agassiz
Association?
"Now, please stop a minute to think of the
thousand and more children that you have left
behind in the city streets, who have no chance to
run on the beach or in the fields, who have seen
no flowers except those the Flower Mission brings
them, who do not know that a cow is larger than
her picture in their primers,- because they never
saw a cow, except in those primers, now hated and
left behind by you "
So much for John Dowd and Judge Thoulet.

It was a public school teacher, Miss Very, who
first appreciated this need of stay-at-home children.
She was one of the many teachers to whom the
city children owe so much, a teacher to whom a
vacation is as great a boon as to the idlest or hard-
est-worked schoolboy or schoolgirl of you all.
She too, might have gone into the country to
find a shady place to rest in, under an apple-
tree, perhaps, with a novel in her hand. But,
instead, she set herself to planning something
for the children of Boston who are cooped up in
the narrow streets. They have not even an airy
school-room to go to of a hot summer day, nothing

[APRIL,

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

BY EDWARD E. HALE.

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

but a close attic, or a sunny sidewalk, for their
summer mornings and afternoons, glad even to
stay out in the narrow streets, full of smells and
noises, through the hot evenings, rather than to go
to the crowded rooms of their homes.
Their teachers know well what their homes "
are, and they know, as Miss Very knew, that in
comparison with them, the schoolroom is an airy
palace. She, as well as the other teachers of

04--

nefo odhc t a spreadinfromthe -

.. .o ., ..... ,

A COOKING-CLASS IN A I

Boston, have long been conscious of the influ-
ence for good which they are spreading from the
schoolroom.
Most people do not appreciate the moral work
done by the teachers in the school term, quite
apart from any work in books and lessons. The
4 course of study is changed from year to year,
and we hope it is improving, because, .1' II,,
more attention is given to the kind of instruction
needed by the children. But, after all, it is their
daily intercourse with reened and conscientious
teachers which really educates the children, and
VOL. XIII.-29.

it is of far more consequence than any technical
system pursued.
Strangers who visit our public schools are
puzzled to know where we keep the children of
" the very poorest families." They do not recog-
nize them in the rows of neat-looking boys and
girls before them, and are -,i. ii;.,.- to believe
that the children sitting there, with white aprons,
and nice shoes and stockings, and clean faces and

BOSTON VACATION-SCHOOL.

hands, have come from the most squalid parts
of Boston, from homes" that do not deserve the
name. But their teachers, knowing all about
these homes, have been daily teaching them the
self-respect that comes from cleanliness and neat-
ness. They are even ready to supply the shoes
and stockings and' clean aprons which the little
waifs need that they may come to school. The
truant-officer, whose name is a fear and a dread to
the idle boy who shirks his school, is in reality a
kind friend to the poorer boys, who form the
greater number of the daily truants." He has

449

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

takes in each one of them gives them hopefulness
such as they had not known of before. No wonder
that the schoolroom is so pleasant a place that they
S'are willing to flock to it, even in the weeks when
most boys and girls are enjoying vacation.
'. r Indeed, some of you more "pampered" children,
''' ,4 weary with a round of lawn tennis and evening
hops," at a gay seaside resort, might not object to
the entertainment afforded by such a schoolroom
,i 1 _as is described in this account of the Tennyson
SStreet Vacation-School in Boston:
"In one room are the younger children. Some
_. -- 9--- of them string large beads, learning by this work,
or amusement rather, lessons in color, in arrange-
2 ment, and in counting. Others make worsted
cords, and others paint the outline pictures in
S" books prepared for that purpose. One of them is
S'i S called, 'Painting-Book Steps to Art,' after Kate
.'' i Greenaway. Another is Painting-Book, Young
Artist.' The children have colored crayons, and
I are, of course, delighted with
: their occupation, while the
-__ ._i__._: .r: 1 .I.: .- c' I I. : . I
LEARNING TO COUNT BY STRINGING r it i I''l rl-

his closet full of boots and shoes, c. -.l I- .-. I
friends, and thus he is ready to su.i- I :i i .. i : i.'l .'i
those who would really stay away for .ii. ., i '
Most of the truants"
are those who stay away,
not because they don't -
wish to go to school, but '' i .
because they can't go. .
You boys and girls who r. I, i. P '
have so many playthings .
at home that you do not a -
have time to give them F -
each a turn, are very likely -'
to grudge the hours you .-. -
have to spend at school, '-
and perhaps you consider-
the teacher a tyrant, who :-
is in league with your .
obdurate parents to rob ,
you of time from your" '
games and amusements./ .
But these boys and girls '
have not any games and
amusements to leave, and '1 's'R
their parents are really so 'f '
"obdurate" that, in corn- 1' -
parison, the teacher seems i J, I..I hile
indeed the genial and kind -. l, ,.. i. ,.. ,,h
friend that she is. She hey ale tiymg io IUepcjIJ t.
gives them a pleasant greeting every day, such as All this is simple and looks like mere play, but it is
they never meet elsewhere, and the interest she the sowing of good seeds, and no one can say how

[APRIL,

450

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

much it will add to the neatness and orderliness of
these children when they grow up,-how much it
will help them to refinement of taste and manners.
In another room the
girls were embroidering,
doing the whole work
themselves. Some were
making designs from na-
ture,-sketching from
a spray of woodbine,

from a fuchsia, a fern,
or other plants; some
were stamping their own
patterns, and others
working them in white
or in colors, on towels,
tidies, table-covers, and
other useful things. This
is charming work for
girls, and the progress
they make is astonish-
ing. Still another class
was busy with dolls'
clothing, toy beds and
tables, and various
kinds of knitting.
"An advanced class
has been added to the
kitchen garden. The
little kitchen gardeners
work with playthings,
that is, with furniture
fit for a baby-house,
although their lessons
may be applied in a
house of any size; but
the advanced class at
this Vacation School
learn the duties of a
waiter by practice at a
fully served table, well
set with suitable china,
glass, and damask.
"All this is good and

pleasant and useful; it
helps the young people who must stay in the city
through the long, hot summer; it gives them
much that interests them; it makes them happy,
and teaches them a hundred things which they
would learn in no other way,--not only occupation
for their hands, skill in needle-work, but neatness,
accuracy, promptness, how to work together with-
out interfering with each other, mutual respect for
individual rights, and courtesy of speech and
manner."
Eight or ten years ago, the Rev. Mr. Franks,
minister of the Church of the Good Shepherd,

in Boston, advertised for young lady volunteers to
assist in a summer school for the benefit of the
poor children in his parish. The school was to be

held in the chapel on Cortes Street, and Mr.
Franks's plan was to divide the work between
several young ladies, two serving each week. This
advertisement met the eye of Miss Very, among
others, then a teacher in the Hillside Grammar
School for girls, at Jamaica Plain. Miss Very was
young, enthusiastic, and a genuine lover of chil-
dren, especially interested in the poorer classes.
She volunteered at once, and prepared to enter
upon her labors. But Mr. Franks was called away
to Europe before the time came for opening the
school; so his plan fell through. But the idea of

S1(C7`TFiTi~Tr P*TTRR~S ~OR IIYRROI~T;R~.

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

such a school remained firmly fixed in Miss in the little Chapel of the Evangelists in North
Very's mind, and the more she thought of it, the Charles Street, and had her little summer school,
more anxious she became that such a school supplementing her work as a public school teacher
by this work, to which she gave her
time, her money, and, most valu-
""able of all, herself. The experi-
S-..- ,.. ment was successful, and showed
-' "' -". that the need for such a "school"
' ... :" existed.

"BUSY WITH DOLLS' CLOTHING AND TOY BEDS AND
should be established. To the children whom
she desired to reach, the long summer vacation
meant only exposure to the heat of a crowded
street or the stifling air of a tenement-house, to dis-
ease, and to the worst of moral influences. At
last, she determined to try the experiment herself,
unaided by either money or allies, and she gath-
ered forty-eight of these school-children about her

v.'' f The next year there was no
S'' school. Miss Very found it too
difficult a matter to carry on such
an undertaking unaided. But dur-
ing the year she met, as visitor
of the Associated Charities, Mrs.
James Brown. She was led to lay
her plans before this lady, who at
once entered into them with en-
/ thusiasm, and, by her efforts, made
it possible for a school to be held
during the summer that followed,
the summer of 188o. The city gave
the use of the Anderson Street
schoolhouse, and the second Mon-
S''.' day of the long vacation was in-
'*. '. augurated with an astonishingly
S large number of pupils, both boys
.'. and girls, from three to fifteen
years old.
That was the first season of the
7 / first of the vacation-schools of Bos-
S/ ton. During that session two
hundred and eighty-five names
were registered, and there was an
average attendance of sixty. Miss
Very was the principal teacher,
and she had an assistant teacher
and a sewing teacher to share her
labors. In 1881, there were four
hundred and eighty-five names
entered; the largest attendance
i was one hundred, and the aver-
age attendance was ninety. The
"kitchen garden" was added that
year through the generosity of
Mrs. Hemenway. Miss Piper was
the teacher of that department.
The next year, pupils of every age
I AILES."'
were admitted to the school.
The success of this school at the "West End"
served to inspire the establishment of similar schools
at the other "ends" of the town, where the most
crowded and the poorest population congregate.
There are, indeed, industrious mechanics among
them, but the wives and mothers are busily employed
abroad and at home, and are thankful to know that
their children can be happy in a safe place.

[APRIL,

VACATION-SCHOOLS IN BOSTON.

Mrs. James Lodge opened a vacation-school on
Parmenter Street, in the Cushman School Build-
ing (named for the famous actress, Charlotte Cush-
man, who was born in that neighborhood), and
with an efficient corps of teachers she has done
for the North End what the Anderson Street
School has been doing for the West End.
During the last year, this school has been merged
in that of the Industrial Home in the same neigh-
borhood, where the various departments of kitchen
garden, kindergarten, and carpenter's classes are
successfully "carried on."
The South End School was started four years ago
under the inspiration of Mrs. James Brown, who
gave hearty support to Miss Very in the begin-
ning of her undertaking, and afterward. A com-
mittee of ladies was formed from four Unitarian
churches at the South End. This committee took
the supervision of the school, raised funds for its
support, and gained from the school committee
permission to use one of the schoolhouses vacant
in summer.
When this school was first opened in Groton
Street, the committee could form no idea of the
number of children who would come, or the num-
ber of teachers who would be required. There
might be a dozen children, there might be fifty.
There could be no formal announcement of the
school, as the parents of the children would not be
expected to be in the habit of reading the news-
papers, or of reading anything. It was a hot
morning in July, when the committee and teachers
assembled at the schoolhouse, and found a crowd
of children waiting to be let in--over three hun-
dred presented themselves! The number of

teachers was increased, but each class was neces-
sarily a large one. Seventy, perhaps, in one room,
children of various ages, with faces beaming as if
they were at a circus, instead of in a schoolroom.
There were no efforts made for the complete
discipline of the winter term, but it is astonish-
ing to see how the school discipline shows its
advantages, when a touch upon the bell brings
perfect silence upon the chatter of seventy voices,
at the close of a recess. One of the committee
writes that an important lesson was learned by the
summer's work: that the hearts of these children
were most easily reached through their hands.
If something was given them to do, they listened
with respectful and attentive manner, but with
idle hands they are restless, dissatisfied, rebellious.
The object, then, was to give the children some-
thing to do. Sewing, reading, some few lessons
in arithmetic, drawing on the blackboard, a class
in carpentering, the last two years in hand-sewing,
have filled up the time with various occupations.
Indeed, it was found that their interest was excited
in merely hearing a story read to them. The sim-
plest of stories seemed to attract their attention.
In the summer of 1885, this school opened with
two hundred and sixty pupils, of which two hun-
dred were boys. Every day some were sent away,
and still they came, so that one wondered where
they all came from. Eight rooms were opened. One
of the loveliest sights was that of the fifty-six little
children in the kindergarten, from three years of
age up, having a happy time, such as they never
before could have dreamed of, under the charge of
the girlish young teacher scarcely taller than the
oldest child among them.

SOPHIE CONNER AND THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

SOPHIE CONNER AND THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.

SOPHIE CONNER was a Boston girl who could
not spend her summer vacation at Bar Harbor,
or Nahant, or Appledore, or Lake Winnipiseogee.
So vacation-time in Boston, as Sophie declared,
was, "Oh, so stupid!" But one morning, when
she had walked all over the Public Garden and
looked for the twentieth time at the stiff and
straight rows of scarlet geraniums, and had tried
ten different benches under the trees merely to
see if one bench could be just a little comfortable,
she noticed a newspaper on a seat near by. Some
one had left it there, and the solemn gardeners
who walked slowly about and picked up every
scrap of paper in the place, had not yet found it.
She would get it and read.
How very dreadful! Nothing in it that a girl
could read with any pleasure. Somebody had done
something wrong, and somebody else had done
something stillworse-and worse-and worse, and
so on through every column Why did n't the news-
paper tell about some one who did something
really good and true and brave? Then there
would be something to read, and her father would
not carry off the paper every morning before any
one could see it. Ah! What's this?-"New
school,"- "embroidery, drawing, house-keeping,
cooking, and carpentry,"- all "for girls"-
" Starr King Schoolhouse." She looked up at the
clock on the stone spire in Arlington street. It was
not too late.
Seven minutes later, Sophie Conner turned
down into a little lane leading to Columbus
Avenue. There were small houses on each side,
and in the middle of the block a red-brick school-
house. All the windows were open and there was
a sound of music on the air of the dull little street.
Could it really be vacation-time ? Here was a
schoolhouse open and everything going on. More
wonderful than all, just as she approached the
building there was a most delightful suggestion in
the air-the smell of a very appetizing dinner.
She had never assisted at any dinner that gave out
so fine a flavor as this. And the wonder of it all
was, that this admirable suggestion of good things
came from the schoolhouse.
She walked faster and came to the two big
doors. Would they take her in? She timidly
rang the bell, and a young girl opened the door
and invited her to enter. There was a piano in
the hall and on it a beautiful vase of wild flowers.
There was a picture on the wall,-a woman and

a child,-and more beautiful than any she had
ever seen. Just then a door opened, and she saw
in a room to the left, a lady and six girls of about
her own age seated at a pretty table with plates
and glass and silver knives and forks, such as she
had never seen before. From this room came a
lady bearing in her hands a great bundle of
beautiful flowers and vines fresh from the fields.
Can you come to the school ?" said the lady;
"certainly you can. What is your name? Where
do you live ?"
"My name is Sophie-Sophie Conner. We
live on Pleasant street. I go to the Grammar
School. I should like to come oh, very much,
lady, if you will let me !"
Another door had opened as she spoke, and she
saw a room full of girls, all busily sewing. Every
seat was taken, and for an instant there was a fear
in her heart that perhaps there was no room. The
lady had paused for a moment as if thinking, and
Sophie spoke again:
"I could stand up and-look on if there are no
seats. Oh, lady, vacation is so long, and there are
no good times on Pleasant street !"
The lady made no immediate reply, but plucked
a flower from those in her hand, and without a
word gave it to Sophie.
Sophie could n't say a word, but stood looking
at the flower, which seemed to grow misty and
"quivery." But then the lady spoke.
I said you could come, Sophie. Can you
draw?"
Yes, ma'am, a little," said Sophie, brighten-
ing. I learned at school."
Could you draw that flower?" asked the lady.
I don't know, ma'am. I could try," said
Sophie. Then she added, "only I have no paper,
and my school-pencil 's at home."
A moment later Sophie Conner had hung up
her straw hat, and entered one of the school-
rooms. There were forty girls, each at a desk, and
all busy drawing or at work on embroidery. She
was introduced to the teacher in the room, and then
she was given a seat, some paper, and a pencil.
During all this time she had clung to the precious
flower, and to her surprise the teacher told her
to make a drawing of it. She had studied draw-
ing before, but had always used another drawing
as a copy. The lady's plan was new, and was
much more pleasant. To draw a real flower
seemed to make the work so real and true. More

[APRIL,

SOPHIE CONNER AND T

singular still, the teacher showed her that when
she had copied the flower in outline on paper, it
could be transferred to a napkin or handkerchief,
and could be embroidered in silk. Here was real
work, with real things, and leading to something
that would be useful.
How fast the moments flew! The sun shone into
the pretty room upon pictures and flowers. Every
girl was busy with pencil or needle, and there
was a stir of quiet talk in the air as if all were
at liberty to whisper just as much as they wished,
and every one was having a perfectly lovely time.
Sophie looked up once or twice, and saw that
many of the girls were copying real flowers, while
those who were embroidering were plainly stitching
pictures of other real flowers. Her model had been
laid on the desk, and as she feared it might wilt
before the work was finished, she worked steadily
at it until she had made a fair outline sketch. And,
just then, the teacher called the school to order, and
said that they would sing something, for itwas twelve
o'clock. Where had the two hours flown? Never
had Sophie spent a more pleasant morning. She
joined in the singing, and then the vacation schol-
ars all streamed out into the street, for school was
over for the day.
Bright and early next morning Sophie appeared
at the Starr King School. She wished to finish
transferring her drawing to a napkin, so that
she could embroider it. She went to the same
room, but was surprised to find it filled by an
entirely new set of girls. The lady she had met
at the door the day before explained to her that,
in this singular school, the scholars changed rooms
every day. Her drawing would be saved, and at
another time she could return to the drawing and
embroidery class. To-day she would join the
doll's dressmaking class.
That was fun. Sophie had never imagined so
delightful a school. The scholars had real paper
patterns for real dresses for real dolls. Once each
day, the entire school dropped its work and filed
out into the hall, where, with the help of a piano,
they marched and exercised with dumb-bells for a
few moments, and then went back to work, feeling
quite refreshed. Again it was twelve o'clock before
she was the least bit tired, and she went home quite
bewildered as to whether she should study plain
knitting or tatting or cutting dresses. She would
take some knitting to the Public Garden after din-
ner and practice a little for the next day's lesson.
As she started for the Garden, she thought she
might also take a little paper and a pencil, in case
she saw anything pretty to copy. Some day, if her
mother was willing, she should make some draw-
ings and embroider all the napkins, and every nap-
kin with a different flower, just as they did m the

1886.]

HE VACATION-SCHOOL. 455

school. And the end of it was that she saw in the
Public Garden so many flowers that would look
well on a napkin, that she used up her paper and
forgot all about her plain knitting !
The next morning, Sophie was sure that it
was the very strangest school in the world. The
lady took her downstairs into the cool basement
and presented her to a young man who stood near
a carpenter's bench. The young man was an-
other teacher.
What would you like to make, MIiss Conner ? "
he asked, very politely.
Why I don't know. I never made anything.
I sawed a board once, but I did n't saw it very
straight. Still," she added, with a little laugh,
" if it 's part of the school work, I 'd like to make
a footstool for mother, and cover it with green
cloth."
All right, Miss. Sit down and make a draw-
ing of your footstool. Here is a model, and on
that bench is paper and a pencil."
Sophie looked about the big, whitewashed
room, at the brick floor and the workbench.
How very, very remarkable! Six girls at the bench,
all busy sawing, planing, and hammering, like so
many boys. Just then one of the girls passed her,
carrying a wooden knife-box, and Sophie ventured
to speak to her.
Did you make that? "
Of course I did. I only had four lessons, and
did n't hammer my fingers but three times," said
the girl.
"Why do girls learn such things ? asked Sophie.
I guess you must have brothers," said her
friend.
No," said Sophie; I 'm the only child."
"Well, so am I," said the girl; "and I 'm going
to learn to do things myself, and be independent."
The girl seemed to be very proud of her knife-
box and disposed to make light of her bandaged
finger.
Sophie was amused at the girl's enthusiasm and
went earnestly to work to make a drawing of the
model footstool. Pretty soon the young man came
and looked over the work, and said that that kind
of drawing was very different from drawing flowers.
That work must be square and true, so that when
she stood at the bench to make the real footstool,
she could follow the drawing exactly. When
the drawing was finished, the young man began to
show her how to use the saw to cut out the pieces
for the little stool, but then that dreadful noon-bell
rang, just an hour too soon, as Sophie thought.
The next morning she was at the Starr King
School, ready to try once more, and wondering
greatly whether she would be a little dressmaker,
or a girl carpenter, or something else. At the door

SOPHIE CONNER AND THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

of the schoolhouse she found a wagon.

S gi I, I i 1 .1.1. IlIi. ..
tal h.r r..l .. :, i .... 1 .

hc., . .I,, !,-! .... l .
.O *i,, .-- 1 1,,iI ,..
. i.. ...
g ,li, = i.** tl

to
im ,r. r I.
sh r. .. I
or I. ...

4','

'. s rS5

~~;~~ 11
P4I

.1- M
lI, 1

h I L111 111-mil-1--.1 m- : hm I -11 h 11 M

-C'"y

"SHE SAW A ROOM FULL OF GIRLS, ALL IiUSILY SEWING."

basement window that the room was fitted up as
a kitchen. From that place had come the odor
she noticed the day she had joined the school. By
the time she had entered the school and hung up
her hat, the lady again met her and escorted her
downstairs to the basement.
I'dlike to finish the footstool, ma'am," Sophie
said, hesitatingly.
"So you shall," answered the lady,--"next
week. We are going to the cooking-class to-day."
In a moment they came to a room in the base-
ment, and there Sophie found the greatest surprise
of all. She was even to study cooking There
were in the room a number of other girls, all tidily
dressed, and as Sophie looked around, she saw
that there was at one end of the room a large
stove and a cupboard and a sink. In the middle
of the room were two long tables joined together
at one end, so as to form a double table with a

. -,, '
SO--IE TRIES TO RAW A REAL LOWER.

SOPHIE TRIES TO DRAWV A REAL FLOWER.

456

[APRIL,

SOPHIE CONNER AND

of the stove, and another to take charge of the
sink, and gave to each of the other girls, including
Sophie, one of the little cupboards under the table.
"The first thing we do," said the teacher, "is
to open and put away the stores. Sadie Tompkins
may open the bundles, and Sophie Conner may put
away the things in the cupboard, and Jane French
may fold up the paper bags and tie up the strings.
Mary Tyler may give three potatoes and one onion

and many other things, and Sophie had all she
could do to arrange everything in the cupboard
in its place. When everything was ready, the
girls of the class stood at the table before their
cupboards. On the table before each girl lay
three potatoes and an onion.
"The class will find knives and pans in their
desks," said the teacher. Each girl can pare her
potatoes, and then slice them in the pan, and cover

,.iiiiph '
,,,,
', ', 1, 1 1I" '
h , .*; .{ ,* .* '-' .
,: ,,*i i li ,_ ,

- s -: I ., ,, ,f ,- -'
'. '" ,, ,,

GIRL CARPENTERS AT WORK. (SEE PAGE 455.)

to each of the class. Our lesson to-day is Fish
Chowder."
Sophie had never seen such a jolly school. The
girl at the stove started a fire, and made a blunder
the very first thing, so the teacher at once gave
them a lesson in managing the drafts.
We boil the head and bones of the fish first,"
said the teacher; and you must turn the heat to
the top of the stove away from the oven."
Sophie decided she would remember this, in case
she ever had to help her mother at home. How good
the things looked. There was a big fresh codfish,
and potatoes and onions and crackers and milk

them with cold water. Miss Jones, if you are not
busy at the sink now, you can cut up the fish, and
place the head and bones in a pot, with cold water,
to boil on the stove. Then you can give to each
of the class two pounds of the fish."
Sophie Conner listened to the teacher in a sort
of merry wonder. What a queer lesson! The
lady made it so very plain, and the things were
all so new and neat that it was quite a pleasure to
slice the white potatoes into delicate flakes. She
looked sharply about to see just how the others
cut the onions, and when the teacher corrected
one girl for paring a potato wastefully, Sophie

x886.1

THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

SOPHIE CONNER AND THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

resolved that she, for one, would not have a bad
lesson in so .. "1- ,1 a school. When the pota-
toes were ready, the t. ,,.-: took their 6 i' .- :. :
from their cupboards, the teacher lighted the little
gas-stoves, and presently the entire class was mer-

"
-' ", -

-- i..

0R E a I AKU I C. C TLASS.""
S bits of salt pork in the most scholarly
way 1i .. Six frying-pans at once made a
.. and when each girl added the
bits of onion, and fried then to a lovely brown, the
entire class felt that this the greatest fun
ever seen in vacation-time. Then each girl had
a kettle, and with two pounds of fish prepared to

make a chowder. Six chowders in operation at
once! The lesson grew exciting. No time for
talk or laughter now. Who would have the best
chowder ? Each scholar had full directions printed
on a card and followed these exactly,-half a
teaspoonful of salt, a quarter-spoonful of pepper,
half a teaspoonful of butter, three crackers, and a
pint of milk. DU,-1; _, Fi. I odors began to fill the air.
Visitors came in to look on while the singular
lesson was carried out, and all too soon the noon-
bell rang, the exciting lesson came to an end, and
the six chowders were done at the same moment.
The teacher tasted of every one, and said they all
were excellent. She then said the six chowders were
for sale; and to -. i.i'-'. II 1i-c:,. she found that a
whole troop of girls with kettles was at the door
of the schoolroom, waiting to purchase the entire
lesson and carry it home i
The next day was Saturday, and there was no
school Sophie spent the morning trying to trans-
fer a geranium to a napkin, and in helping her
mother make a chow-
der according to the
lesson atthe S r .1;1
S- School. Mrs. Conner
-.... declared she had never
'.I made chowder without
-. *,- -- tomato, but at Sophie's
earnest request, she fol-
-- : lowed the school rule
-_ C.... r and at dinner
the chowder was pro-
S'-nounced the best ever
-... .eaten by the Conners.
On Monday morn-
ing, again the eager
S1h': was at the Starr King School. Would
it be cooking, or embroidery, or dressmaking, or
carpentry ? '.: wonderful to r. .. it was table-
setting. Here was a new teacher and a new class
of nine girls,- . I l !! r ',, -
est lesson of all. I ,, the school began, there
were only a bare table in the middle of the room,
and five chairs along the wall. The teacher sat
before the empty table. Then from two cupboards
the class took knives, and plates, and cups,
and tea-things, napkins, and table-cloths, and set
the table for breakfast in proper order, begin-
ning with the piece of Canton flannel laid under
the table-cloth and ..In. with placing the
chairs at the table. Then several of the girls
seated themselves at the table, like a family, and
one girl pretended to be guest, who sat at the
mother's right, and two or three girls in turn
played the maid, who waited on the table. Under
direction from the teacher, r. went through all
the motions of a real :. :. and then they put

[APRIL,

SOPHIE CONNER AND THE VACATION-SCHOOL.

back the chairs and cleared away the table and left
only the white Canton flannel cover, which they
covered with a red cloth. All this time the teacher
explained everything,-who should be helped first,
where the sugar-bowl and coffee-pot should stand,
and all other details, just as if it were the most
regular and orderly family in the world.
Then they set the table for dinner in another

: .... .

,1,: P. ', ,1 ''.".
,r

common flower from nature, transfer it to a hand-
kerchief, and embroider it in colored silk. She
could even drive nails and make a box, and as for
setting a table or waiting upon it, she could do that
perfectly. Her dolls all appeared in new dresses,
made by herself; and on the last day of school, she
completed at home a new frock with a Watteau
pleat behind, which she wore the next day on a

"LESSONS IN SETTING AND SERVING THE TABLE."

style, and once Sophie personated a gentleman
guest, and a very gentlemanly guest she was.
And though there was really nothing to eat,
but only make-believe, Sophie could n't exactly
tell whether she had been to school or to a very
fine breakfast.
So the weeks flew away. About once a week
she spent a morning in each of the classes, and
before the vacation was over she could draw any

trip with her father and mother to Nantasket Beach.
There they ordered a fish chowder, but the entire
family declared it did n't compare with the chow-
der Sophie had made at home only the week
before.
But the school at last closed, and Sophie went
back to the Grammar School, wondering perhaps
why vacation-schools are not open every day in
the year, in every town in the land.

459

WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET.

WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET.

BY HENRY ECKFORD.

SECOND PAPER.

TO KEEP me from fretting, when I was very
little, my elders used to play with me a quiet little
game with pencil and paper called Going to
Taffy's." Perhaps there are other ways, but this
was mine. First, as to the origin of the name.
You have heard, have you not? the old rhyme
about Taffy:
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief,
Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef.
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was n't home;
Taffy came to my house and stole a mutton-bone.

This was composed several hundred years ago,
when hatred existed between the English who
occupy the richest land in Great Britain and the
Welsh who live in the mountainous part to the
westward. The English farmers complained that
the poor Welshmen would come slyly by night, or
openly by day, with weapons in their hands and
carry off their sheep and cattle. And so, to make
fun of any Welshman under whose nose it might
be sung, they made this ditty. [" Taffy" is a way of
saying Davy, which, as you know, means David, a
favorite name among the Welsh, who had a great
saint of that name. And the reason it is Taffy
and not Davy is that the uneducated among the
Welsh do not distinguish so clearly as the English
between D and T, and between F and V. They
speak among themselves a very different language
called Kymric, and, though most of them learn
English also, the peculiar pronunciation that be-
longs to Kymric often sticks to their tongues
when they speak English.] Now, this is the way
we used to make our visit to poor Taffy.
Here is our house, just built. In it, you 00
see, we have put two windows, and a low v
wide door; and because our heathen ancestors
used to place on their houses the horns of wild
animals, let us crown ours with a big pair. Now
that our house is built, we set out for Taffy's to see
what can be done about those oxen and sheep. We
go along over the downs, higher or lower, until
we come to a deep valley. Half-way down is
Taffy's cabin. But he has seen us coming and
thinks it more prudent to slip off to the hills,
and there he hides till he sees us go away. So
we come to his cabin, and as there is no sign of
him, we take the mutton-bone and write on it,
"Taffy, steal no more -or the Bogey will eat
you," and thrust it out of the window, where he

must see it. Then off home we go, but by
another road. It is getting late and dark. The
rain begins to fall. We lose our way, and find
ourselves in a bog. All of a sudden, down we go
into a deep mud-hole, and only scramble out to
fall into another. Going on smoothly after this for
some time, down we tumble again, and still a fourth
time. Then we scramble out and see at the top
of a long hill the lights in our new house. Soon
we are there, and, entering by the back door, we
warm ourselves and agree never to go to Taffy's
again, at least not by that road.
Every time this little game was played, which
some of you probably think very silly, because
you are too old for it, I was always very much de-
lighted to find that I had
drawn an ugly beast I called
I00 an ox. I have often thought
since, that perhaps this is
the way the wild Indians feel
when they draw, on skins or
OUR TRIP TO TAFFY'S. bark, the queer pictures that
are their only way of writ-
ing. The chief, the medicine man, or the prophet
does not think he is doing an ordinary thing. He
thinks he is doing something almost supernatural,
and is deeply in earnest.
Now suppose that some old nation of Asia, after
having for ages drawn an ox when they wished to
recall an ox, began at last to draw the picture
of an ox also whenever it was needful to write
about plowing. Then instead of an ox it would
convey an idea relating to an ox, and would
be what is called a symbol. After a while some
one would say to himself: What is the use of
drawing all of the ox when the head alone,
which every one will know from its shape and its
horns, gives just the same thought ? Now suppose
this ox-head gradually gets to mean the sound of ox
in all words of the language wherein that syllable
occurs, as in the name of the river Ox-us. Then
the ox-head would appear in words having nothing
whatever to do with cattle or plowing. Then it is
called a piece of souned-writing, because it does not
recall a certain given thing, but a sound. Sound-
writing is thus an improved kind of picture-writing.
You all know sound-writing, and have probably
composed sentences in it, but you know it under
another name. I i ...I a magazine for young peo-
ple is printed in which you will not find rebuses.
Well, many rebuses are nothing but sound-writ-

460

[APRIL,

WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET. 461

ings. .' nil i it n t .-. i.-.: i i .
th ousar i .. .. : : r, .i : I,. :I I. I
kind of .. ,,,. ,,, ..
fun, yeO ,*,, ,. .. I
earn est. : I . I I I.. rf i. : "
how vel, , .lI I.,- .
essays -,. I.I r.. :..
And I

h ad re, ,, .-.1' *. i, i i 1
bol as i. -
pose tl- 111
be foun I
where tlf I : I .. .. . i .. i,, i i '
this wa:- I -I!!
therevi
the s.yt i ,. ... I i '

came bl. i

picture C.. .., ...,
use a i I. . .. ,. I i "
always ....i. i i
becamcni i r .. I r....... I i : I -1" ,
Sonanta I I
som e i. I. . .. 1, ", I .
other i I I.. I i
than a : ... . ,-,

feat as I I, . J .
It was 1. r Ii, .... -:
certa ,i ..... ...

THE OBELISK AT HELIOPOLIS,- SHOWING EGYPTIAN MONUMENTAL WRITING.

.- I1-, ..i.- those were selected which had grad- used in combinations. People who had the habit
ually lost their full sounds by being continually of pronouncing "ba-at"-bat, saw at last that

WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET.

these were not two sounds run together, but three
sounds-a short fine sound, a long open sound,
and another short sound; namely, ba-ah-at, or
B, A and T. By reasoning out from twenty to
thirty letters in this way they at last came to do
away entirely with their long list of syllable sounds.
After some such fashion, therefore, men began to
realize the existence of consonants (definite, short,
chopping sounds, made by some change in the
mouth, along with a quick expulsion of the breath)
and of breathing (quick expulsions of the breath
alone) and of vowels (slower and open outbreath-
ings accompanied by the voice). People did not at
first distinguish so plainly as afterward between
S1.. I, ,! 11, ." and vowels, while in some cases they
used more consonants than there was need of; the
latter fell away in the course of time. But the great
point was that they finally saw it was better, for in-
stance, to use two signs for al than one. !.1.ill.., 1,
you might think it doubled the trouble, on the con-
trary, it lessened it. For, in the first place, it
made writing much more exact, and fixed a spell-
ing for everybody ; in the second, it reduced the
signs to a number which could be easily remem-
bered. We have seen where the a came from.
The 1 took its rise in a picture of a lioness, called
lamed. Perhaps in some vanished syllabary the
changed figure of a lioness stood for a syllable
lam, and then was simplified into the Phoenician /
from which we get it. To speak of one other: the
letter is thought to have come from the hieroglyph
of two feathers side by side. These were degraded
into a zigzag, and this at last in Italy was made per-
fectly straight. By such steps was accomplished
the great change from I II I -i to alphabet.
When you go to the Central Park and see the
obelisk, or to a museum where they have Egyptian
antiquities, like the Historical Society, do not fail
to examine carefully the figures. Many of these,
which are called hieroglyphs, are rebuses or sound-
writings; some are symbols ; others were pronoun-
ced, like our letters, very short. The Egyptians
were more apt, however, to use alphabetic signs
on paper than on stone. They thought what was
old-fashioned was best, and kept on using for
monuments the most ancient mode of writing.
They had a way of writing a word very carefully
according to its sounds, and then adding a key-
symbol, or "determinative sign," or of clapping
down an exact picture of the animal and thing after
its written name. It would be like writing down
the word horse, and then putting a small picture
of a horse after it to make sure-reversing the
process of a painter who made a picture of a dog
and then wrote under it, This is a dog," for fear
some one might take it for an owl. It is singular
that the Egyptians should keep up several different

methods of writing, at the same time, and that
on the same stone we find picture-writing of things
that mean the thing drawn, and of things that
mean a sound, and should find, besides, alpha-
betic signs having very little to do with their orig-
inal meanings and sounds. Wise as they were,
the Egyptians were not wise enough to give up
once for all their cumbersome methods, to choose
out from their own abundant store an alphabet
which would express all the full and half sounds
in their language, and agree among themselves to
use it for monuments as well as for letters and es-
says on paper. In fact, it seems necessary that
such advances must be made by a foreign race
which picks out what is useful, and leaves the use-
less characters behind. Yet, in no known writ-
ing can the use of symbols and keys be done
away with entirely. For if we look sharply enough
at our own writing we shall find that we use little
pictures that are symbols, and abbreviations that
are syllabic signs, and small marks that have the
same office as the "keys," or "determinative
signs." These, you will learn, explained the gen-
eral nature of the symbols near which they stood.
But do not our exclamation and interrogation
marks explain the nature of sentences ? So you
see we also use methods that remind us of all the
past stages of writing. But the difference is that
while we use only what is needed for clearness,
the Egyptians appear to have held fast to signs
that encumbered them and made reading harder.
Now you remember from our last paper, how
some of the wise men hold that our alphabet came
from Egyptian hieroglyphs. But, if the Egyptians
could not shake off the cumbersome features of
their writing, what nation was it that improved
and handed down to us our short and serviceable
alphabet ? I hope you have not forgotten the
name. The Phcenicians!
So far as history tells us, the Phoenicians were
a people of Asia Minor, supposed to have come
from a land where the date-palm called P/zaoi.
grows, We know absolutely that they once lived
in Palestine. Thence they ventured off in ships to
Greece, Italy, Sicily, Northern Africa, and Spain,
building towns and i....i.. 1i colonies, and teach-
ing the Greeks, Italians, and Spaniards whatever
ii, .,1.1 learn of letters, arts, and manufactures.
The Athenians, who reckoned themselves, and are
still 11i .. 1.1. by many to have been, the most intel-
ligent men in the world, were taught by the Phbe-
nicians. The Etruscans and Latins of Italy were also
their pupils and the pupils of their Greek colonies.
Being famous traders and merchants, large num-
bers of Phoenicians were always present as visitors
or residents in the chief towns of Egypt, then the
richest country in the world, and considered also

462

[APRIL,

WONDERS OF THE ALPHABET.

the oldest and the wisest. It was full of great tem-
ples, and there were so many priests and priestesses
that a stranger might have thought there were no
other classes. The priests were believed, and be-
lieved themselves, to possess all the wisdom of gods
and men. There is evidence in Homer that at the
time of the Trojan war the Egyptians were thought
so wise that, favored by the gods, they were exempt
from many of the ills of life, and were almost im-
mortals. That is the way they impressed foreign
nations. Now, it is supposed that while living in
Egypt some wise men among the Phoenicians per-
fected that alphabet of twenty-two letters which is
the ancestor of ours. In Egypt there had been
two kinds of writing in use from time immemo-
rial,-one seen cut in stone on obelisks and other
monuments, called the hieroglyphic; the other
for every-day use, and the writing of books, called
the hieratic.* Hieroglyphic writing is the kind
which appears on the obelisk which has stood at
Heliopolis, in Egypt, for five thousand years, and
on the two companion obelisks, one of which is in
London and the other in New York. Our word
paper, as you probably know, comes from the
word papyrus, an Egyptian plant, on the fibers
of which the hieratic was written in thick black ink
with a coarse, soft pen made by sharpening a reed.
Now, the Egyptians probably had a large number
of true alphabetic letters ; but the Phcenicians, be-
ing merchants and bankers, needed to write very
quickly, and so to have a much less clumsy and com-
plicated alphabet than the hieratic. They there-
fore chose from among the many letters of the
hieratic twenty-two that would spell all the sounds
in their own language, and naming them alef
for A, be/t for B, gimel for C or G, and so on-
ward, they formed the alpha-beta of the Greeks
and our own alphabet.
But why did they give their letters such names as
alefh, betA, gimel, and so forth? Why take Phoe-
nician words and not Egyptian ? For instance, why
not take the Egyptian name for A, when they took
the Egyptian letter? In Egyptian hieratic the
sound A was indicated by a double loop made by
sketching very quickly the outline of an eagle. But
alep/f, as the Phoenicians called this letter, means
ox. Why not call it by the name for eagle in their
tongue, since the sign was really a rough sketch of
an eagle ? To understand this, think how needful

it is, when we are young, to have names for the
letters which recall their sound and yet suggest
something familiar. Few of us can fail to remem-
ber how, when we learned our letters, we had
blocks on which were very large capitals and
then such legends as, "A was an Archer who
Shot at a Frog; B was a Butcher who Had a fine
Dog; 'C was a Cutler; "D was a Dustman; "
and so on. In the same way it was necessary for
the Phcenicians to select Phoenician names for the
Egyptian letters, beginning with the letter itself,
in order to remind beginners of the sound of the
letter. Perhaps another reason was that the Phce-
nicians, before they borrowed the signs, had some
sort of a letter-system of their own, probably a syl-
labary, in which the rough sketch of an ox's head
was the sign for a syllable beginning with A. It
was convenient to call the new letter by an old and
well-known name. It was also possible to see in
the letter that came :...;,,i iil from an eagle,
but which had been greatly changed in Egypt
during the lapse of centuries, the head of an
ox. And in the shapes of other letters in the
"hieratic" or running hand of Egypt, they
might fancy a resemblance to the things meant by
the Phoenician names. Every time a Phoenician
schoolboy looked at A, he may have thought of
the loop as the muzzle, and the two points as
the horns, and cried alefh, ox! In the old hie-
ratic writing the sign chosen for B came from a
little picture of a crane. But suppose the Phoeni-
cians had long been accustomed to use the name
bet/, house, for a sign in their old syllabary. When
the schoolboy saw the Egyptian B, he would cry
beth, house! The third letter, C, G, or K (which
were often used for each other), came down in hie-
ratic from the hieroglyph of athrone, tent, or basket.
The Phoenicians found it easier to call this gimel, or
camel, since they could fancy a resemblance between
it and the hump of the camel's back. And so it goes
through the twenty-two letters. We see the Phoeni-
cians dropping whatever was their former system,
and using the better one of an alphabet. Since their
day, it has never again made so great a gain under
the various hands through which it has passed. The
chief improvement has been to make separate and
distinct the vowels which the Phoenicians did not find
so important in their language as do we, and which
the E. ,- ..; :, could afford to neglect still more.

*Hilerogly /kic,-from the Greek riero, sacred, and glj/ cii, to hollow out or carve,- means literally to hollow out sacred characters;
hence, a carving of symbols. Hieratic is from the Greek hicraotikos, priestly, -and signifies in this connection writing made by and for the
priests of ancient Egypt.

s886.]

463

[APRIL.

BEN'S SISTER.

BEN'S SISTER.

BY MARIA L. POOL.

THE snow was more than a foot deep on a level,
and Naomi could not estimate the depths of the
drifts that were piled here and there.
However," she said gayly, the crust will
bear you; and I only wish I were going, too.
Tell Auntie her jelly was divine and her cake
transcendent."
"Divine and tranthendent," lisped the child,
who, although a boy of eight years, had been ar-
rayed in his sister's heavy woolen jacket, which was
the warmest garment available. He had on a cloth
cap without a visor, and this cap was fastened down
with many winding of a white cloud." Rubber
boots nearly enveloped his short legs, and leather
mittens were on his hands, in one of which was
grasped a six-quart tin pail. His bright, rosy
face might have been that of a girl, and both in
size and countenance he appeared younger than
he really was.
Naomi used to say that when she felt very much
in need of a sister, she called Ben a girl, but when
she wanted a protector, she admitted that he was
a boy.
You '11 go by the cart path, of course," spoke
up a woman who was leaning back in a large
chair, and whose pale, thin face bore a resemblance
to the faces of the children before her, and showed
that she was their mother and an invalid.
Yeth, ma'am," said Ben. Now I 'm off.
Remember, 'Omi, bithcuit for thupper."
"Don't break the eggs as you go, and don't
spill the milk as you come !" called out Naomi at
the door.
She stood an instant watching the boy's figure
as it trudged along over the crust. She shivered
as she looked, for the air was biting cold and swept
down from the north.
The whole sky was covered by a light haze,
such as often in New England precedes one of
those snow-storms in which the flakes sift down
with a sharp persistence that makes one breathless
who tries to battle against them.
A sudden anxiety came to the girl, and she
called after her brother:
Remember, Ben, I allow you three hours,-
one to go, one to stay, and one to come home.
Then it '11 be four o'clock. After that I shall be-
gin to worry."
"All right! shouted the boy. "You '11 be
very thilly to worry, -i ..-1 1I "

Naomi glanced at the thermometer, which hung
by the door. It marked five degrees above zero.
Then she went into the room where her mother
sat, and put more wood into the cracked cook-
stove. She was uneasy. She had an impulse to
go out and run after her brother, but she remained
quiet, and told herself how foolish she was.
She took up a book and read aloud for an
hour, her mother placidly braiding straw the
while. By that time a few flakes began to drift
about in the air, whirling, apparently with no in-
tention of falling.
Naomi started up and flung her book on the
table. Mother," she exclaimed; I 'm sorry
we let Ben go "
Ben knows the way perfectly; and he will be
home by dusk," replied her mother.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Dunlap looked out of the
window, marked the ominous light gray of the
heavens, and knew well that a heavy snow-storm
was beginning. It might be a week before the
sun shone again.
Still it really was thilly," as Ben had said, to
worry about him.
The wind kept shrieking around the corner of
the house. Naomi put on an old coat, hood, and
mittens, and went out to bring in wood. She
filled the woodbox and made a pile along the floor
by the stove.
As she did so, a big Newfoundland dog came
from a corner of the woodhouse and followed her
back and forth. "Roy," she said, reprovingly,
" you ought to have gone with Ben."
Roy wagged his tail seriously, as if to say, he
had more weighty things to attend to than trot-
ting after-a boy.
When Naomi had finished her work, she walked
toward the pine wood through which Ben had gone.
She did not quite know how cold it was until she
turned to come back, and faced the icy wind that
made her coat feel as if it were but a rag.
How desolate and alone the small brown house,
which was her home, looked now to her It stood
in the midst of snow, with the snow flying about it.
The Dunlaps were very poor, as their home
plainly showed. Naomi's mother was a widow,
and had been unable to walk for two years. You
can imagine that Naomi, at fifteen, felt as if she
were heavily burdened.
She had been obliged to give up school just

BEN S SISTER.

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As she stood there, Roy thrust his nose into her hand and whined.

VOL. XIII.-30.

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7--

BEN S SISTER.

She went in directly and put a light where it
shone mistily out toward the pine wood.
The cold was increasing so fast that she doubted
if it could continue snowing much longer. But the
wind would drive the snow from the ground and
the drifts as blindingly as though the storm held on.
As Naomi went back into the kitchen where her
mother sat, her face was pale but determined.
The thought of her little brother struggling
alone, in such a storm, was no longer endurable.
Mother," she said resolutely, I am going out
to the pine woods. I shall take a lantern, and
Roy will go with me. Ben must be near home. I
will meet him, and bring him in."
Mrs. Dunlap pressed her hands tightly together.
In spite of her calm comments, she was half wild
with anxiety.
She looked helplessly at her daughter, who was
pulling on long rubber boots. There was no
neighbor within half a mile.
Then you will both be in the storm," said the
mother feebly; "and I can do nothing."
Naomi came to her mother's side and kissed
her.
You have the worst of it," she said cheerfully,
though her heart was like lead. "But I shall be
back in half an hour. With my lantern and Roy,
I shall be well armed."
She tied shawls over the very shabby coat, which
was all she had. She.wheeled her mother's chair
so that the good woman might be able to keep the
stove full of wood.
Don't worry, Mother, but please have a hot
stove when we come back," Naomi said, as she
took up her lantern and, followed by Roy, hurried
out into the storm.
The wind swept into the entry, and howled so
that the anxious woman within shuddered.
It was comparatively easy for Naomi to go toward
the pines, for the wind was at her back, and she ran
on over the snow-crust, swinging her lantern before
her, and calling her brother's name in her fresh
young voice, that went forward on the rushing air.
It was terribly cold, though, even with the wind
behind her! Her hands and feet began to sting
and ache.
She had not, as she believed, been going in the
path toward the wood five minutes, when, in some
unaccountable way, the wind was no longer behind
Sher. It was rushing down upon her right, and she
felt as if she were going downhill.
She stood perfectly still, but trembling with a
thrill of terrible alarm. She lifted her lantern; but
from the first, the light had been of little service.
It made a small luminous halo, while beyond was
a blank, impenetrable white wall that seemed to
rush and roar about her-a wall that moved.

She screamed "Benny! at the top of her voice.
"Oh, he must hear me!" she exclaimed to her-
self. "Roy, where is Ben?"
The dog had kept near to her all the time. Now
he lifted his broad, snow-sprinkled head, and
pressed still nearer as if he said:
"I am going to take care of you."
"Go!" cried Naomi, fiercely. "Find him!
Find him! Don't stay with me! Find Ben!"
The dog galloped away from her as she gave the
command. When he had gone, she felt an unrea-
soning and almost helpless terror.
She stood still, for she knew now that she had
not the least idea which way to turn. She was
like one in a dream, and still she must not dare
to remain quiet. There was that demon of the
cold waiting for her if she were to cease moving.
Her feet and hands ached so that from sheer
pain she could hardly keep the tears back.
She went on, only trying to keep the wind behind
her, for that was all she had to guide her in the
right direction, and she was fully aware how poor
a guide that was.
Where was the courage with which she had
started? She felt utterly subdued now, and her
only thought was the thought of her brother.
She stamped her feet and swung her arms;
then, as well as she could with her stiff lips, she
whistled to the dog, but he did not answer.
She went staggering on, whither she knew not.
As often as she could spare her breath, she
shouted Ben !" and when no answer came, she
felt as if she were calling that name in a great,
cruel world that had nothing in it but storm.
Even the dog had left her. He had never been
carefully trained. Perhaps he had gone home.
Mechanically she kept jumping about in the
snow; for she dared not go far in any direction.
All at once, above the roar about her, she heard
Roy's bark, short and quick. The sound was like
an elixir of life in her veins. She sprang forward.
The dog, she found, was but a few yards away.
Naomi soon discovered him pulling at something in
the snow. She dashed down beside that something,
and began furiously to brush the snow from it.
Ith 'at you, 'Omi?" asked a sleepy voice.
The girl began to cry, but she did not stop
working.
Don't bother a fellow!" said Ben, drowsily,
':I 'm all right. I 'm only i.: 1!on;,."
"Resting!" repeated Naomi shrilly. "You
are freezing! Get up You shall get up !"
She took hold of his collar and jerked him to
his feet, the exertion sending a glow through her
frame.
"Now, thop that! I tell you, I 'm all right. I
wath cold, but I got warm."

466

[APRIL,

BEN S

His voice sank as he tried to loose her hold and
fall back. She shook him again. She put down
her lantern, and held him with one hand while she
beat him with the other. She did not know that
this was her own salvation, too; but she knew that
it was the only way to save Benny.
"You lazy thing! You wicked boy!" she
shouted, not caring what she said. Take hold
of my hand. We '11 make Roy go home, and
we '11 follow him."
She kept at work. She slapped the boy's face.
She was not in the least particular as to how or
where she struck him.
In a moment, to her great joy, he began to resent
her treatment. He struck out at her in return.
Do you think I 'm going to thtand thith ? he
cried.
Naomi stopped her tears and stood up to the
fight. She taunted him. She said the most irri-
tatifg things.
From utter helplessness, the boy gradually be-
came roused to amazement and anger. What had
come over his sister ?
If she had come ten minutes later, she probably
never could have brought him back to life.
"Now come home with me," she said when
she was so weary she could keep up the battle
no longer. She tried to pull him after her. But
he began to whimper, and said:
I tell you I can't go There 'th thomething
the matter with my legth. They are jutht like
plugth of wood. That 'th why you knocked me
down tho eathy. Gueth you could n't have done it
if they had n't been thtiff! "
Naomi's blood went back chokingly to her
heart. But she said with determination:
"For all that, you 've got to come! "
She pulled him, his feet shuffling and dragging,
Roy walking close to her gravely.
She stopped, panting, desperate.
"Ben," she said, in a voice that went through
the boy's numb, half-frozen senses like a knife;
" do you want to die ? You are freezing If you
don't try with all your might, we shall both freeze !
Think of Mother waiting for us! "
Ben tried and struggled. In all his little life, he
had never made such an effort before.
He sank back, crying out in an agony:
Oh, no; I can't walk You'd better go home
to Mother "
He sobbed and clung to her.
Naomi stood upright a moment, .i.i... her
brother and trying to think, while the dog lay
down in the snow.
But nothing came clearly to her mind save the
picture of her mother, helpless, sitting by the
kitchen stove, waiting and listening.

SISTER. 467

She must waste no time. It seemed as if every
instant froze a drop of blood.
Which way should she try to move ?
In the cloud of snow, and the 1.... -i,. of the
wind, was there a strange, dim radiance ahead ?
Naomi peered forward, distrusting her own eye-
sight, holding Ben in her arms the while.
Roy, as if he had known all the time where he
was, now arose and began to walk slowly forward.
The next moment, the girl heard-for the wind
brought the words straight from the speaker:
"Naomi! Ben Mychildren!"
Roy barked with delight.
Naomi knew then that they were close to their
ownhome; the light was the one that she herself
had put in the window, and it was her mother's
voice that was calling.
Inspired, empowered by a strength beyond her
own, she lifted Ben and staggered forward toward
the light.
Stumbling, slipping, she struggled on, she knew
not how, conscious only that she was still going
toward the light which all the time grew more and
more distinct.
Soon she saw that her mother was leaning from
an open window,- and she cried out huskily:
"Mother! Mother! Here we are!"
Naomi knew afterward that her mother crawled
Mrs. Dunlap could not tell how to the door
and opened it, and that in some way she herself
reached the warm kitchen with her burden. There
the heat seemed to stop her breath, and she
fainted, dimly feeling the dog's soft, warm tongue
on her face as her last sensation.
When she came to life again, the doors were
still open, and the sharp wind was blowing in, for
Mrs. Dunlap knew that a warm room was not the
place for frost-bitten people. She had been rub-
bing their temples and hands with snow, sitting
on the floor beside them.
Naomi, naturally strong and well, soon revived
and began earnestly to care for Benny, working
over him as her mother directed; and her com-
mands were so wise that the boy received no per-
manent injury, though his feet were but poor
things," he said, all that winter.
The storm did not last very long.
The next day the sun shone, and Naomi went out
toward the pine wood, and at the very edge, near-
est the house, she found Ben's tin pail; the cover
was off, and in the frozen milk was a deep hole,
evidently made by Roy, who, as he had already
tasted the milk, received the rest of it as a gift.
Not far off was the lantern, which Naomi had
thrown aside when she found Ben. She was now
sure she had been no more than a few rods from
the house at any time.

468 A VISIT TO SHAIB

"Perhaps I went around and around," she said
to herself, as she took up the lantern. But if I
had n't gone out for him, Ben would have died."
With this, she pressed back the somewhat hys-
terical sobs that were rising, and hurriedhome with
the pail and lantern.
You need n't try to make fun of it all," said
Ben in the dusk of the next evening. He caught
his sister's hand closely as he sat bolstered in a big

;SPERE'S SCHOOL.

[ApRIL,

chair by the stove. I know what you did, you
thaved me. I knew you were a brick I" Here
there came a little quiver in his voice. Well,"
he said, beginning again, Mother thaid I ought to
thank Heaven for you; and if I really, wath thank-
ful, you know, I should try to be the kind of a
brother you 'd alwayth be proud of all your life."
"And so you will," said Naomi, "I do believe
you will! "

A VISIT TO SHAKSPERE'S SCHOOL.

BY REV. ALBERT DANKER.

A FEW years ago, I visited Stratford-on-Avon,
the home and birthplace of the great poet and
dramatist, William 'i-. 1,' 11-.: ,... and I wish to tell
the boys and girls who read ST. NICHOLAS, about
a visit made to the school the great poet attended
when he was a boy. Stratford is nestled on the
banks of the gentle-flowing river Avon. It is a
large country town, but the chief interest attached
to the place is that there Shakspere was born;
there he died, and in the ancient church of the
Holy Trinity, alongside the murmuring river, he
lies buried.
On entering the town, I proceeded directly to
the famed "Red Horse Hotel," described so
charmingly by our own Washington Irving, in his
well-known Sketch Book."
And indeed, there are carefully preserved in
that quaint old house, numerous memorials of
Irving. The little Red parlor, in which he lived
and wrote, and even the poker wherewith he
stirred his fire are sure to be exhibited to Ameri-
can guests. The poker was as .. !1i,:!1.1 preserved
as a precious relic; it was done up in a cloth bag,
and engraved on one side of it was the legend:
" Geoffrey Crayon's Sceptre."
American boys and girls would greatly enjoy
old English inns.
They frequently present, from without, a grim,
fortress-like aspect, with no broad steps or portico
leading up to the entrance. They are entered be-
neath an archway, leading sometimes into a court-
yard ; at others, into the entrance hall, where the
traveler is received, not by burly porters, but by
trim waiting-maids.
There is an indescribable air of neatness and
coziness, of home-iness," so to speak, pervading
these inns, in the largest city as well as the small-

est village, and an affability and politeness,-a
hospitable regard to your comfort, which is es-
pecially grateful to your feelings, as, weary and
wayworn, you enter their portals.
After a breakfast in Irving's parlor, the next
morning, I walked down Henley street to the
ancient house in which Shakspere was born.
After looking it carefully through, proceeding to
Chapel street, I reached the interesting grammar
school, where once the wonderful poet might have
been seen as a schoolboy,

With his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school."

Sometimes, no doubt, he strolled off, truant fash-
ion, to fish with a pin-hook in the silvery Avon, or
ran down to the little hamlet of Shottery, across
the fields,

When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And ladysmocks all silver white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight."

In Chapel street, not far from Shakspere's
birthplace, may be seen the square chapel of the
ancient Guild, and in the building adjoining is the
grammar school.
The record tells us that Robert de Stratford, in
1269, first founded a chapel and hospital there,
with permission of the Bishop of Worcester, and
became the first master of it.
The brethren wore a peculiar dress, and each,
on admission into the hospital, promised obedience
to the master, and took a vow of good behavior.
In 1482, Thomas Jolyffe, a priest, a native of
Stratford, and a memberof the Guild, gave certain

A VISIT TO SHAKSPERE'S SCHOOL.

lands and tenements to the Brotherhood of the
Holy Cross, to maintain a priest fit to teach gram-
mar freely to all scholars.
At the Reformation, the entire property fell
into the King's hands, but the young Edward VI.
granted the whole again for charitable and public
uses.
There is very little doubt that here, in his
boyhood, Shakspere conned his task, and in one
of his plays he describes a character called Mal-
volio as "most villainously cross-gartered," "like
a pedant that keeps a school i' the church,"

those of some American boys of about the same
age whom I knew,-and I must say that our ju-
venile Yankees have often made a much better clas-
sical recitation, in my hearing, than the one I
heard that day from their English cousins.
However, that was not a fair specimen of the
educational training of boys in England, for at
Harrow, Eton, and Rugby, the standard is ex-
tremely high, and, as everybody knows, the youth
of the realm are generally capital scholars.
The boys in Shakspere's school when I visited it
were lively fellows, full of fun, brimming over

-.

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i : i
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'' ( -
__' I ,, 7

'"" III

THE OLD GRAMMAR-SCHOOL AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON.

which description may have been based upon one
of his own early recollections.
The antique appearance of the schoolroom is to
a great extent gone, for in the lapse of time many
of the old, characteristic features have passed away.
Yet the room still looks hoary and venerable,
and impressed me deeply. At the invitation of
the Head Master, I listened for a few minutes
to the recitations in Greek of a class of stout and
sturdy English boys. I was desirous of compar-
ing the classical attainments of these youths with

with spirits, and somewhat given to skylarking
when the master's back was turned. Poor man !
he seemed to have a rather hard time of it, in
his endeavor to maintain a conversation with me,
and at the same time restrain the exuberant feel-
ings of his pupils.
So, bidding him Good-morning," I left those
classic walls, musing on my way; for Strat-
ford will ever remain a beacon to the enthusiast in
Nature's loveliness, as well as to the admirer of in-
tellect and genius in man.

469

"[,
*[ '''"

j;.^ *

470

[APRIL,

--,'J- I, ... -- - ,I

A e N v P ped b9 hi nd r6ed hir

d cu ed birn6 M2d S1 hhed hin,

/nd hurried kir, bIc. to his rd
S, .- 'c ,1d -
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FOR MIDDLE-AGED LITTLE FOLK.

ANSWERED RIDDLE-JINGLE.

x886.] FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK. 471

A GRANDMOTHER WHO CAN DRAW.

ONE day Freddy came
slowly up to Grandmamm.i-
and, holding out his slat '
said in his very sweetest -L .,'
way: "Grandma, do you
think you could draw a
boy for me?" ,
SBut Grandma is N ,
very busy now,"
his Grandma said. '
"Well, but only
just a boy, Grand-
ma; a little teen- ^
ty, tonty boy,"
said Freddy.
So his Grand-
mamma laid
aside her
knitting

the picture of a little /
boy away down in one cor-, .,' /,
ner of the slate. And Fred-
dy leaned on the arm of the chair, and saw just how she made the picture.
"Now, Grandma," said Freddy, before she had drawn the boy's arm,
" don't you think you could make a lion by the boy -just a little lion, you
know, and a-and a tiger, p'r'aps, and a' nelefant, and a,- Oh, yes!--and
a big 'nosseros, and a Oh, yes, Grandma! a "
"Why, why, Freddy !" said Grandmamma; "I thought you only wished
one little boy, and now you want a whole menagerie!"
"Well, Grandma," said Freddy, "please draw me just a little piece of a
'nagerie, will you -just a little tiger a baby tiger So Grandmamma
drew the tiger and Freddy was so happy with his boy and his tiger that he
put the slate on a chair and looked at them a long time.
You can see the little boy on the slate, in the picture. And Freddy's Grand-
ma is just drawing the tiger. But if that is a baby tiger, the little boy on the
slate must run! For the baby tiger is ever so much bigger than the little boy!

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

7 1

'*^ Y ^ -., ,:- : ;:-', .

JA -

ri^ i.^^N

part of the world snow lying in the hollows
does n't quite know whether to go or to stay.
But April soon settles that question, though it is
generally an uncertain sort of a month in the
management of its own affairs.
And this reminds me of something sent to my
pulpit by Mr. Harold W. Raymond, about J. F., a
certain friend of mine who must be known to all
of you. Here it is:
I know a little giant, no bigger than a tack,
Who can wrestle with a fat man, and throw him
on his back;
His knotted little muscles, almost too small to spy,
Could turn you topsy-turvy and hardly seem to
try.
To tweak the nose, and pinch the toes, and fill
one full of woe,
Are jokes the midget loves to play alike on friend
and foe.

But he can do still greater things than make a
big man squeal-
He can split a stone in splinters, or break a bar
of steel;
He can shape the dripping eaves'-drops into a
crystal spear,
And clutch the falling rain so hard, 't will turn
all white with fear;
He can chain the dashing river, and plug the
running spout;
He can build a wall upon the lake and shut the
water out.

But if you want to see this little giant cut and
run,
Just build a tiny fire, or step out and fetch the
sun.

CUNNING BUSHMEN.

I 'M told that there is a gloomy place in the
world that goes by the cheery title of the Cape of
Good Hope, and that those cheery folk, the Dutch,
once established a colony there. It seems, more-
over, that, at first, the busy Dutch farmers of Cape
Colonywere greatly bothered by the raids of natives
called Bushmen whose country was separated from
the Dutch districts by a vast desert. The lack of
water in this desert-for the Bushmen would choose
the dry seasons for their raids-would prevent the
farmers from making a successful pursuit of the
robbers, especially since they could only follow by
daylight, when the "spoor," or road, could be
seen; while the Bushmen, from their knowl-
edge of the country, could easily travel by night,
and in a straight line across the desert. But
Bushmen must have water, too, it seems. How
did they manage to secure it? On their line of
travel, at long intervals, they had, aided by their
wives, hidden water in the shells of ostrich-pegs.
brought from great distances. Even at n, :It r!-it .
could find the water-vessels, so perfect was their
knowledge of the country.
Was n't this something like the drink that the
Deacon objects to, called "egg-nog ? "

ECONOMICAL POISONING.
SAN FRANCISCO.
DEAR JACK: A few days ago my father, who was Seamen's Chap-
lain at Panama and Aspinwall for several years, told me that they
were very much troubled with the large wood-ants; and to get rid of
them, he would make a small hole in the top of the passage leading
to their home, and drop in a pinch of arsenic. It was quite successful.
Some of the ants would eat it and die --then some more would come
along and devour the first deceased; so that it was necessary to
use only a small pinch of the poison.
Sincerely yours,
BERTHA L. ROWELL.

SOME INTERESTING LITTLE SEALS.

YOUR friend Ernest Ingersoll sends you a mes-
sage this month about some Indian boys of the
Makah tribe, who live at Neah Bay. To find
that place, by the way, you must go just behind
Cape Flattery, wherever that queer-named cape
may be. The Deacon says most likely it's a dan-
gerous cape, judging from its title. Well, it seems
that the Makah boys have pets and a form of
amusement denied to most youngsters. In mid-
summer great quantities of fur seals approach the
shores in that region, and are chased in canoes
and killed by the men of the tribe for the sake of
both the hides and the flesh. With them come
many little pup seals, some of which are always
captured and taken home.
Tying strings around the necks of these i"-.I'
the Indian boys make them swim in the :.i I ju r
outside the breakers, and tow their canoes across the
bay, and even after them up the rivers. In short,
the Indian lads have a world of fun with those gen-
tle and graceful water-dogs. Mr. Ingetsoll says
also that the crew of a United States steamer,
which was cruising in those waters a few years

[APRIL,

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

ago, rescued one of those little pup" seals. Its
mother had been killed, and the sailors kept it on
board the ship by feeding it condensed milk. It
grew, became playful and confiding, and was a
great favorite. Every day it would be put over-
board for a swim, and would disappear, but by and
by it would return to the gangway and be taken on
board. Once the steamer moved away for a whole
day, but when it returned to its anchorage the lit-
tle seal was waiting for it, and ready to be taken
aboard. Finally it was left behind, while a sudden
trip, lasting two weeks, was taken; and it failed to
re-appear when the vessel came back.

ROBIN'S UMBRELLA.
CADIZ, OHIO.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: One summer
morning I stopped at a stair-window to notice a
gathering storm. I looked down into a great
cherry-tree and saw a beautiful robin on her nest.
She looked up very anxiously. Just then her mate
came home, gave her a great ripe cherry for break-
fast, and hopping to the edge of the nest raised his
umbrella over her It was neither silk nor cotton,
but his own pretty wings! Stretching his wings
as far out as possible, he crouched low on the edge
of the nest. The great drops of rain drenched him.
When the storm was over he hopped to a branch

near by, smoothed and dried his crumpled feathers,
then sang a cheerful song as if no storm had
raged. Yours truly, L. F.
I'm glad to hear of this polite robin, dear L. F.
And while we are upon the subject, here are two
welcome letters in defense of parent mocking-
birds, who it seems have been unjustly accused of
a very cruel act.
VERDICT: NOT GUILTY.
FERNANDINA, FLA.
DEAR JACK: You ask, in the October number of ST. NICHOLAS,
ifit is true that mocking-birds will poison their young if they are
taken from them and hung in a cage where the old birds can get to
them. This is a popular superstition, especially among the colored
people. We live in the land of mocking-birds, however, and have
orange-trees close to our piazza, in which they build their nests: and
several times we 've taken young birds from their nests to raise for
our Northern friends. The brood with which we were the most suc-
cessful were put in a cage on the piazza, and the parent-birds fed
them every day with worms, berries, etc., until they were old enough
to be sent away. Your friend and constant reader,
CLINTON HENRY.
ORANGE, Los ANGELES CO., CAL.
DEAR JACK: I can answer the question about mocking-birds
asked in the October number. The old birds will not poison their
young. I have raised two mocking-birds in cages where the parent-
birds could get at them. One I have now. The other, escaping
while I was cleaning the cage. was caught by the cat, and when I
rescued it, my poor pet was dead.
Respectfully yours, GUSSIE DRINOCK.

iii
I~ 2.,
.3 *

ROBIN HOISTS HIS UMBRELLA.

[APRIL,

THE LETTER-BOX.

EDITORIAL NOTES.

THE brief article on Shakspere's School, in this number, by the
Rev. Dr. Danker, is chiefly devoted to a description of the old
school at Stratford, as it appears to-day. Our next number will
open with a longer article, by Miss Rose G. Kingsley, entitled
"When Shakspere was a Boy." Miss Kingsley describes delight-
fully the scenes through which the young Shakspere wandered,
and the experiences which probably befell him as a lad. Several
beautiful drawings, by Mr. Alfred Parsons, will accompany the text.

IN connection with Mr. Brooks's interesting account of that
historic girl, Woo, of Hwang Ho," it will be useful to many of

our readers to know that Chinese words and pronunciations are
by no means the jumble of sounds and letters that they appear or
that most young people imagine them to be.
The following rule will enable any girl or boy to pronounce the
Chinese names that are found in the sketch of the Princess Woo,
(or Wf as the name is sometimes written) : In Chinese i has the
sound of oo as in food; u of su as in sung; final i of ec as in
meet; ui of ay as in say; ai of igh as in high; ao of ow as
in how; a of a as in father; o of o as in sole; ih of i as in
lip ; ia has the sound of ya as in yarn ; and final ien has the
sound ofyen.

THE LETTER-BOX.

AuBnRN, N. Y., 1886.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Mamma says that I may send you a pict-
ure of a little girl who has been raised on ST. NICHOLAS. We have
every one that ever was printed. The story that I always liked best
of all is Dressing Mary Ann," in i88o, because Mamma made it
come true with my French doll, only her name is Cornelia. Ever so
many things in ST. NICHOLAS will come true if you only try. Not
all things, though, for I might pound my Papa on the back all day,
and I never could pound such a story out of him as Mr. Howells's
little girl did out of hers. She's lucky. Mine only knows two stories.
Mamma says that you don't like long letters, but she is sure you
will like me, and I am sure I hope so.
Your friend always, JULIE.
WE thank Julie very sincerely for the pretty picture, which shows
a face of so much animation that we cannot help feeling a little
concerned in behalf of her Papa's back. Now, if Julie only could
help that other little girl in her filial exercise, what might they not,
by their combined exertion, get out of Mr. Howells, and so make
the whole world of children happy [

WOODBURY, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think that ST. NICHOLAS is one of the
loveliest magazines ever published. "Little Lord Fauntleroy" is too
lovely : :... r... I can hardly wait until next month Among
my lov.I, .... I... presents was a beauhtifoul boy doll. I have the
loveliest cat; he is very big, and he has a very superb tail. I have
always banged it, and so it is as big at one end as the other. His
name is Schnider Jefferson Rip Van Winkle. His name used to
be "Romeo," but I did not like that, and so I call him "Schnider."
Your faithful reader, ALICE.

BERRYVILLE, VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much; we have taken you
ever since you started, and I think you the nicest story-book I ever
read.
I live in the Shenandoah Valley, with the Blue Ridge mountains
in sight, and not very far from Grecnway Court. We can see Ashby
Gap where "'" I ... i .ne through when he surveyed Lord Fair-
fax's land. I I..-.' i.. the greatest general that ever lived.
I have a pony, gun, and dog. I must close.
Your affectionate reader, J. A. W.

LONGDALE MINEs, ALLEGHANY CO., VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have seen so many letters in your maga-
zine from little girls, that I have concluded to write also. You must
know your magazine is hiL'-hh appreciated in our wild home, among
the iron-mountains of ........ It has been very, very cold here,
and as my little brother Willie and I have a cough, we have to stay
indoors most of the time, and amuse ourselves with our pet kitten,
I.:.l .. .:.. i1. 1 .. ST. NICHOLAS. One of the little "--- h--. has
;, .. I I .y pet, and t : ..i1 gracefull .11. and
I are afraid to 7- f, crom the : . i. are so many bears
around here. I I killed very frequently. I should like to see
one, but at a distance. From your little friend, ALICE K,

ST. PAUL, MINN.
Mi DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Although I have taken you for more
than five years, I have only written once, and that was to Jack. So
to-day I thought I would write to you, and thank you for the enjoy-
ment you have afforded me.
I like all your stories very much; but, like the other children, I
have my favorites.
The story I like the best is "Donald and Dorothy," though it
is a rather late date to tell you so.
I think the Little Lord Fauntleroy" is lovely. But all your
stories are so nice, it is pretty hard to choose the best.
ST. NICHOLAS is always a welcome visitor, and Papa, Mamma,
and I read it eagerly.
I have seen several letters from Minneapolis, but not any from St.
Paul.
But now I must close, hoping to see this in your charming maga-
zine, that is, if it is not too long.
I remain, your loving reader, MAUDE C.

PHILADELPHIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am nine years old, and have taken you
ever since I can remember, which I suppose you will say is not very
long, but it seems so to me.
My home in Philadelphia 1 .. . T ,o to a lovely
school, where I study and h ..... you need not
think itis a kindergarten, for I am too big a girl for that, but the
teachers and scholars are so nice that no one could help having a
good time and wanting to study.
We go away to some seashore place every summer, and have
i .. r. 1 lendid times. We went to Mount Desert for two years,
1I .11 1.1 I it so much, for you know it has seashore and moun-
tains, and also a real Indian encampment, where the Indians live,
and sell pretty baskets of birch-bark and straw, and bows and arrows,
and little canoes, and feathers and lots more pretty things. It is
soi-h f47m t; -- -it; bark canoe with a real Indian to paddle you,
b i, I .,.' .I-1 upset all the time.
Last summer we went to Newport, where we are having a cottage
built to go to next year; there they did not have canoes, but only
row-boats and sail-boats.
Your loving little friend, "BEE IH. JAY."

ME\MPHIS, TENN.
Mv DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am dealing in chickens now, and
they have laid me two dozen eggs, and I get from Mamma twenty
cents a dozen, and I keep all my accounts in a book. I am writing
on it; it is about eleven inches long and six inches wide, and very
nice to write on.
I have three roosters and seven hens, and three of them have laid.
A lady gave me a hen and rooster. They are Plymouth Rocks,
and are very pretty, and for the first time, this morning he crowed,
and when I went out to the barn this morning I heard a rooster
crow, and I went to the barn door and saw my Plymouth Rock crow,
and I went in the house and made Mamma guess, and she guessed
that he crowed, and I said Yes! Then I went upstairs and asked
Mona, and she said "Was the rooster dead ?" and I said No! "
then she said, They are sick." and I said No she said I got
another one," I said No! Then I said he had crowed, and Mona
was so pleased.

474

r886.]

THE LET

I went to Papa; he said that the roosters had been fighting.
"No!" And he c ,.1 1 .,, i ,I d him he had crowed. Miss
Etta, a lady that i .... .... i i 1 also, and she said, "a hen
has laid an egg." i "A hen has laid a horse-
shoe." "No! Neither guessed right but Mamma. She thought
she had heard him crow.
; i : ..... ralma hen, and I bought a Brahma rooster.
-i .... .. .... t crow. He is very tall and heavy, and I will
I -, ..... mund the yard andsteps like a king.
, ,., ,I. -Plymouth rooster and he .-i chipped bad,
SRocks pecked him back eye, and I
bathed it.
Also one that has a little game in it, flew over the fence, and stays
here.
SOne of them laid first, and that was Man-

I have more to say, but am so tired. FRED F. D.

CRAWFORDSVILL., INDIANA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been taking you for a long time,
and like you more than any 11 We are very much
interested in all your pieces, I le Lord Fauntleroy."
We are two of "The Four .I ourselves, because all
of our first names begin with M. When we were reading "Little
Women we liked it so much (as we do all of Miss Louise Alcott's
stories) that we, each of us, assumed a name of each of the four sis-
ters. We have never written to you before, and we hope to see this
printed in the March number.
Yours truly, MEG and Jo.

UNITED STATES INDIAN SERVICE,
CRow CREEK AGENCY, DAKOTA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Frank and I are two little brothers, who
live herr -.-;- the Indians and know a great many of them by
name. i...- ... of them speaks to us he calls us Misunka,"
which means "my little brother." Our Papa has been agent for
some of these Indians a good many years. Each of us has a warm
cap, made of the skin of a "Jack rabbit," the big ears sticking up
in front. We are always delighted when the ST. NICHOLAS comes,
and as this is our first letter to you, we should be much pleased if
you thought it worthy to be printed in the next number. If you
will come to visit us, we will introduce you to some Indian Chiefs
who will shake hands and say How !" to you in the most friendly
manner. This morning is bright and clear, but so intensely cold
that the thermometer shows it to be twenty-five below zero.
I am your true friend, HARRY B. G.

WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : What has become of the Brownies for
February ? I miss them so much, especially t!. P 1 : .- be reminds
me so much ofa good many (very) young You just
ought to see them tripping down the avenue, with such big feet, and
no legs worth speaking of.
I love ST. NICHOLAS, and have taken it for a long time. I am
twelve years old. Mamma says that I will never be too old to read ST.
NICHOLAS. She reads it every month, and we have lots of fun with
the Brownies. Please don't forget them next moith.
Is my letter good enough to publish ?
Affectionately, CLYDE C.

THE Brownies are crowded out this month, too, dear Clyde; but
they will reappear in the midst of lively scenes, in our next number.

CHICAGO, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been getting you for seven years,
and 1 don't think I can do without you. I like you better than any
oth-r m-c -;;-- I think all the stories are good. I like "Little
L-.. I i ..-I.. and "Among the Law-makers"; when I read it
I wish to vis --" i..... I think the "Brownies" are very
' .1h1;hT-I- I iI,,,.i i. i ... i. !l' I 1 11 .: hopping with the
! I . very smart. Now, i.. .. I hope you will
print my letter, as it is the first one I ever wrote to you, and I will
be so pleased. Your loving reader, MAMIE E. F.

NAVY YARD, BROOKLYN, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the Navy Yard, as my grandfather
is a naval constructor. There are a great many pleasant girls and
boys here, and we have splendid times. Our next-door neighbor
took you all last year, and he would get all the children in the yard
in his house, and read the stories out loud. He is taking you this
year also. I am fourteen years old, and my sister Amic is twelve.
There is a building down the yard that we call the rink, for we are
allowed to skate there. It is much nicer than a real rink, for we all
know each other here. Goodbye, EDITH i-.

TER-BOX. 475

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Shall I tell the little girls who play with
paper dolls, how we make nice dresses for our dolls. We take the
prettiest colored head we can find in some fashion book, cut it off
at half the shoulders, or a long neck. We then cut out all the
dresses, capes, cloaks, in the book i. ..r i.. i and then we have
a tiny hit of shoemaker's wax on i . doll's neck, or on
the back of the dress; and so, all the dresses are easily stuck on, by
the wax, and as quickly taken off Bee's-wax will do, if you can
not get the shoemaker's. One of the fashion reviews will contain
a fine wardrobe for your dolls. Yours truly, B.

AN APRIL DAY.

HARTFORD, CONN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You were given to me four years ago this
Christms, ass present ... i .1. .1. T received many nice presents,
you give me the most ... 1 I am always so glad when
you come, for I love to read your grand stories, and I think the
Brownies are the cutest little creatures, and especially the industri-
ous Irishman, and the lazy Dude. I think "Driven Back to Eden "
was lovely, and I was sorry when it wasended. I don't go to school,
because I am sick, and so I have plenty of time to write to you. It
is very lonesome, with nobody to play with. But I don't get very
lonesome with you to read. I have written a long letter now, but
I hope not too long to print. I am twelve years old. I made one
of those morning-glory houses, but they did not grow well. I shall
try again next summer. Your devoted friend, MAY P. S.

CINCINNATI, 0.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much. I think the "Lit-
tle Brownies" are the nicest stories I ever read. I have a little
brother named Brownie, three years and a half old; he thinks the
"Brownies" are meant for him. We had a very heavy snow-storm
Friday; and yesterday Papa found a sparrow half-frozen; and
Mother wrapped him in a shawl and put him in a little basket, and
when she went to feed him, he flew out of the window before she
could touch him. I am very much interested in "Little Lord
Fauntleroy." And Mother enjoys working the puzzles. I should
like to see this printed. I am eight years old.
Your little friend, PERCY R. H.

ANSONIA, CONN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You were given to me as a Christmas
present, three years ago, by my MAamma. I was to take you one
year only; but when the end of the year came. I could not bear the
thoughts of giving you up, so Mamma said I might take you another

THE LETTER-BOX.

[APRIL,

year, and I 've taken you ever since; I hope I may have the pleas- number, and we have all the volumes from number one to this time.
ure of reading your pages for many years to come, for I certainly So I consider myself entitled to a little "say on the curve" ball
never read such interesting stories, question. I think the explanation given in your February number
I think "Little Lord Fauntleroy" isjust a splendid story; and as is wrong, though very plausible. The fact is that the ball, rotating
for the Brownies," I think they are quite a busy little people. All as the writer says, will curve the other way.
but the "Dude; he does n't mean to hurt himself
working.
I am afraid if I write much more, you will not find --
room to print my letter. So I will close. I am twelve
years old. Your friend ever, "PEARL." .
i- A.

LA GRANDE, OREGON.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The first two letters in your P
Letter-box for December were read with great inter-
est. I myself have acted as catcher to the first pitcher in Prince-
ton, who systematically curved his ball. I was in the second nine
of our class, and afterwards joined him in the first, to which he
was promoted for this specialty. The curve was too manifest to
be denied. Mr. Harvey says, I have not been able to learn why
a ball curves,"
It seems to me that there is a simple physical explanation, which
I have attempted to show by the accompanying diagram. As the ball
leaves the pitcher's hand, the air in front of the ball is compacted,
making the resistance in front of the ball greater than behind, and
the direction of the ball's revolution upon its axis would determine
the direction of the curve, just as certainly as in the slow balls in
cricket the bowler can vary the direction of the ball at will as it
strikes the ground.
\ If this theory be correct, then,
/ in figure i, if the ball be "twist-
Sing" to the left, the ball would
/ \ curve to the rig-. i.i .. ...
/ 2,iftheballbe -,i.-
/ \ right, the ball would curve to the
left. (By twist" I mean revolu-
tion.) Th -mr r -'-nin would
apply t ".: ... I ris-
ing curves. This explanation
would account for the very re-
S markable phenomenon, observed
S doubtless by your baseball read-
ers, of a ball leaving the bat on a
"dead level," and passing away
S over the head of the expectant
14 fielder, not because hemisjudged
S*us the distance, but because the
"climbing twist," which he could not reckon upon, deceived him.
Yours truly, ROBT. L STEVENS.

BROOKLYN, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have not been one of your subscribers
for a number of years, but my brother and myself have bought every

K

- W4.
a~B~'B~4~1.1.2 --~ 5
-;- ,,,.,,,I I

4*'I

(1"'.' '' I

. . - -

ALL ABOARD FOR TO-MORROW MORNING!

476

,'-
/6<"

---

1,1- .

kLL ABOARD FOR W0 MORR0 V MORNING T

-/ V

In the above diagram, the ball r .t_- as shown by the
arrow D," and thrown in the 1......'. .,"will curve to-
ward "B."
This diagram is in a horizontal plane. Of course, in a vertical
plane, the ballfalls less or . i. .i I.. .: .-" or"drop"
curve is pitched, but it n. .i ... I. it may have
that appeal ..... T ,, .. the ball might be made to rise if pitched
bya very I. .. ,.. I I....er-wristed" man.
I should I1. i I. '. iis subject cleared up and scientifically
explained, as I have known how curving was accomplished for
eight or nine years, but never have seen anybody who could tell
why.
The direction of the ball's rotation, and the curve, are perfectly
apparent to the pitcher, umpire, and catcher.
If any one will take a light tennis ball and throw it, he will readily
see which way it curves.
One of your readers, FRED. N. FOLSOM.

WE acknowledge with hearty thanks the receipt of pleasant let-
ters from the young friends whose names here follow: Betty R. Smith,
Frank P. Kenney, Lulu L. Robinson, Eva Wilmarth, Bertha D.,
Nellie M M1,r q rnSc. Mabel h T nnIlo r C C., B. L., Alice
B L i II ... _. i 1. i .... M L., LucyK.,
Nora McCarthy, H. H. Rickards, "Frisco," Sadie Redington,
Maud Harrington, Scudder Coyle, Jennie Hicks, N. W. M., Carrie
E. and Cora L., M. T. Duncan, Evelyn Gardner, Rose and Jean,
F. E. S., Louise L. W., Dick Marcy, Carrie W. Van Sickle, P. A.,
Eleanor N. Ritchie, Mary Winthrop, Bessie Cowen, Millie E. L.,
Maggie E. Clarke, Mabel C. Hall, E. Kip, May Bridges, Johanna L.,
Rejoyce B. C., Mabella, Amelia, and Lora, Ruth, Nellie J. Gould
and Emma A. Green, Grace Schermerhorn, Jennie B. Bruce, Ada D.,
Thomas M. Owen, Marion E. Hutchins, Bertha M. Crane, Camille
and Edith, G. T. O ... r Baird, Irene T. Searle, Elsie M.
South, Sarah P. L., I .: Stone, I. P. T., W. W. C., S. L.,
Laura Martin, W. H. Stuart, Laura V. N. Talmage, Eddie E.
Crellin, and E. B. M.

THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION.

(~~C~~7f -K r.)t2

r I

-~IF f'"v -:Wf - -1 ,.i I
K .I ill CA''T
'-5-- .9~ilI. -'I) -I1 I

TEN THOUSAND MEMBERS

DURING this month, our total membership has
passed the ten-thousand point. Since we began
in I880, we have enrolled the names of ten thou-
sand and thirty-one different persons ready to enter
upon the work of studying Nature by personal ob-
servation. We have not hoped to add much to
the actual knowledge of the world, but in the more
modest aim of arousing an interest in Natural Sci-
ence, and in directing our members to the better
methods of study, we have succeeded beyond our
expectations. A large number of boys and girls
who joined us at first from mingled motives of curi-
osity, interest, and love of acquisition, have come
to an earnest love for nature, and have determined
to devote their lives to the study of science.

THE COURSE IN MINERALOGY.
No ONE interested in the study of minerals, and indeed no one in-
terested in learning the best methods of study in any department of
natural science, can afford to neglect the opportunity of joining the
class started last month by Professor W. O. Crosby, of the Boston
Society of Natural History. To secure equally good instruction at
any price, is out of the question for a majority of ouryoung friends.
It is not yet too late to accept the most generous offer as made in
ST. NICHOLAS for February.

THE CONVENTION AT DAVENPORT.

ALL the responses to the invitation of the Iowa Assembly have
been favorable thus far, and if nothing unforeseen occur we may
consider it settled that our next convention will be held at Daven-
port, on Wednesday and Thursday of the last weel ..
This being decided, it is the duty, as it will be the j
Chapter to do its best, from this time until August, to insure the
success of the meeting. Meanwhile let the Chapters in other States
organize themselves into Assemblies, so that there may be a place
for the third Convention when the time shall come There are, for
example, nearly a hundred Chapters in Massachusetts. If these
could be joined into a Massachusetts Assembly, we should have the
influence and means which would warrant us in inviting the A. A.
to a Convention in the Old Bay State, in 1888. The State Assem-
blies elect their own officers, and hold Annual State Conventions.
Tl..: 1 .. one of the most potent agen .
..-,Ii .. ... .. A association. D delegates who ,,, ... I Ih i
vention may expect to learn many interesting facts regarding the
formation of the Iowa Assembly, and will then understand better
how to go to work to organize similar Assemblies at home.

REPORTS OF CHAPTERS.

WE first present a few reports from the First Century, which
came too late for the March number.
3, Ph/ilaelpkiad (A). "'. .. . : I .... .11
take a decided interest in ... i i . ,..
season a class in r-i.r;- 1-- was formed by our president, John
Shallcross, Esq. I i..- I taught the practical part of the sub-

ject, and has proved very successful. We have also papers on other
subjects. A question-box has proved very interesting. Clippings
from newspapers, etc., are collected, brought to the meetings, and
given to the scrap-book editor. We have two large and valuable
cabinets,-also two closets for chemical and other apparatus. Our
library is small, but composed of standard works.
Our chemical department is in charge ofa committee ofthree. On
this part of our work we have spent about thirty dollars. We have
an elegant microscope, and a very good magic lantern, both costing
about eighty dollars. We have the use, rent free, of the library-
room of an institute.
On the whole, I think we can positively say that we have made
decided progress, and we wish that the A. A." may have long life
and prosper.-Robert T. Taylor, Sec.
12, Forresea/o, III. I have the honor to report that Chapter 12
is at work with diminished numbers, but undiminished zeal. Being
a family Chapter, connected with a family school, we have not
always held regular meetings, but have improvised meetings, when-
ever our various excursions furnished us material. This is espe-
cially true since the elder members, our Secretary among the number,
have left us, and are -r*,in-' on in distant institutions, the work
commenced at homeir i - A.
We have divided our time between Ornithology, Botany, Mineral-
ogy, and Entomology. We have learned the names and something
about the habits of many birds in our vicinity. The number that
visit a large spruce tree in front of our schoolroom is something
surprising. Snowbirds lodge there; robins, wrens, orioles, etc.,
flutter about it. Kinglets rest there in their journey, fall and spring,
and a pair of purple grackles once made us a morning call.
We have visited the stone quarries, etc., in our vicinity, and have
now about 200 labeled specimens, from far and near.
We have also a Herbarium, prepared by one of the members,
showing the result of careful study of many of our plants.- Eugenia
Winston, Acting Sec.
20, Fairfield, Iowa. Chapter o2 is thriving. It has, in fact,
become one of -;.. ;.- .1i. ...--1 :;. ..;." ... of our little city, and is
known and resi .' i -* 1.. We have now for four
years, given a reception to the teachers of the Normal Institute, and
this year we displayed our collection to over three hundred guests.
We have recently received o ...... ... ..- i ..r ,. ....1 I ores from
Colorado. Bi. il.- o..- ,es* I ,, .. ., have been
made by our ..n. Some of our members went with a team
to Boneport, where is exposed the Keokuk geode bed, and after a
Si ... br'-hr111-t m. 1V.-' fine geodes. Others
I- . I..... i 1 I i coral from the Ham-
ilton series. Our botanical section has collected and classified the
mosses, fungi, and lichens found in this vicinity. Our library is
valuable and rapidly "n---!..7 Every Saturday night sees an
enthus;n'rio eolnin- ,' .... a picture of our "Home," and
also a- I ... of the front room, both taken by one of our
members.
48, ." lfMass. The four A. A. Chapters of this city,
A, B, .. I i, together with a literary society, which has turned
its attention to -.i;;,^- have united to form one Chapter (to be
known as the I. .I ...: A Chapter of the A. A.), for better and
more extended study of science. Our meetings are to be held in the
High School.- Nellie F. Marshall, Permanent Sec., Lock Box,
1457.
79, Locceo'rt, V. I. Our Chapter has watched out the year
1885, with benedictions for our good success. We have a magnificent
cabinet, and it is filled with a still more magnificent collection. Our
membership, r3o, I think is still the largest in the A. A. We have
fixed the limit at 30o. We have about all that a Chapter needs for
success, and have ever been very fortunate.- Geo. W. Pound, Sec.
96, Lansing; Miclh. (A). We have a cabinet of nearly two hun-
dred specimens. One day, one of our members found in a pool of
water, a globular jelly-like mass, about four inches in diameter.
This contained a large number of discs, in which were what looked
like fishes one-fourth of an inch in length. Will some one tell us

477

1886.]

478 THE AGASSIZ

what they were? For the year, our membership has been twelve;
average attendance, ten. We have enjoyed our meetings and
learned many things.- Mrs. N. B. Jones, Cor. Sec.

Second Century.

o01, Middletow n, Conn. Our Chapter was never in better con-
dition than now. '" - :- establish a number of prizes for the
best collections of .i.i.-....1 ., ar J :.1. ... r original inves-
tigation in Natural History. We . minerals, two
hundred shells, and over sixty plants. We had a lecture by which
...j. [ --with which we bought books. Most of us have
I ..1. I . notes during the coming year.-Lewis G. West-
gate, Sec.
1o6, Lebanon Springs, N. Y. We have explored a cave in this
vicinity, which no one before had ventured to enter more than a few
feet. A piece of pottery was found by one member in a sand-knoll.
It is almost exactly like some in the Albany Geological collection,
and is thought to be a relic of the Mound Buildcrs.--Walter H.
Harrison, Sec.
x23, Waterbury, Ct. The branch to which we are devoted is
chemistry; and many experiments have 1 .. I
Theaverage lengi..r . ... *:. .
book adopted is i-. .. .
124, Jamaica i I .. ) nm our Chapter is al-
most like a voice from the dead. Some have moved away; some
have - -i ... still, we who are left do a little work when
our .r. i ir.. I.. us. One of us has been studying the shells
of our :.. I-.1 -.. .1 Near a little spring I found, as late as
Novemb it .. ... of a species of buttercup--best -' .
with the description of Rannunculus repezns, except as to ".
blossoming. When I found them, there had been snow on the
ground and ice on the ponds thick enough for -1 .. T 1. 11
always keep up my interest in the Society.- Geo. -.
Sec.
[Several of the sprilngyfowers come to a second blossoming late
in the fall, under the injluence of ac few warm days. A friend
of mine finds dandelions all winter in a sI so surrounded by snow
and ice, but kept warm by the constant escape of steam from a
waste -pie. And this incident, or one very like it, was narrated
in the Jack-in-the-Pulpit" pages of ST. NICuOLAS for lfMarch.]

132, Buffalo (B). We now have an active membership of thir-
teen, only two of whor. 1 .; to the Chapter when first organ-
ized. Most of us are : ..-. rl central High School, where the A.
r,-, i 1... r. ...*- .t from the teachers. Our meetings are held
:- ,: :it . .. the Buffalo Society of Natural Science. We
are in a better condition than ever before. The union meetings of
the Buffalo Chapters, which are held monthly at Chapter B's rooms,
continue to increase in size, interest, and usefulness. Six Chapters
send representatives, .i ,1. . ... On
December, fifty-nine i i- .. c.
133, Erlanger, ~K. We had 1t.. ,. i,,.. I. .
dwellers far inland, of examining . .'. 1 ..
-_,, ,. ; , I ,-! ...I I I .
:.:.,; -.- .. ..II. % I !,, . .- ' and Ohio rivers.- L. M .

Pa. During the summer we continued to collect
specimens and we now have many insects and minerals. We have
started a library. Our usual r-' --mm- consists of questions in
botany, mineralogy, etc., and ', -I., our magazines, we have
persons appointed to select articles from them and read them aloud.
-W. H. Righter, Sec.
138, Warren, 0Me. One of our subjects was the chickadee.
The president read a description of the bird, after which the others
gave accounts of its habits. One stated that, as he felled a hollow
fir-tree, many ants fell out on the snow. Chickadees flew down
about him, ate all the ants they could, and then flew away with the
rest, and deposited them under the rough bark of the same tree for
futureuse.-A. M. Hilt, Sec.
142, Leacvenworth, KAansas. A large cabinet has been offered
to us. At one meeting a ir .1 ... .1 ....i .. aned with
the microscope. Three o .. .. i .. ii. r .. -Chas. L.
Hopper.
145, Indianapolois, Ind. Our Chapter is in good condition. We
have two lepidoptera cases, .. 1 .... i ..1 .1 cabinet. We have
also a conchological cabinet. ig discussion as to
S1.:1 T.. J ... .- ., stone implements, come under the head
. -. i ., have a library of twenty-five books, and
take two papers.--G. L. Payne, Sec.
147, Cleveland, O. (A) Our meetings are full of interest and
entertainment. Lectures . and debates have been found prof-
itable. One question: .. is the most useful animal?" was
decided in favor of the cow. We have a room nicely furnished with
secretary, chairs, chest of drawers, shelves, etc., and many speci-
mens, including some beautiful impressions of fern and coal.
In warm weather, we take tramps and rides into the country, where
we pull old sturn- ... J I i ,; :ces in se... i...: clcoleoo era.
W e are ... i I ... ... to open 1. ..... our breed-
ing-boxt- "' boys about seventeen years old. We have

ASSOCIATION.

[APRIL,

the use of a powerful microscope, plenty of books, and quite a sum
in our treasury. We owe no one, and our only debtor owes us but
five cents I
The A. A. is a grand institution. It makes the boy of Maine a
fellow-student with the girl of California. I look forward to the time
when it will be known by nearly every person throughout the U. S.
-Alfred E. Allen, Sec.
158, Davenport (A). During the past year, weekly meetings
have been held regularly in the building of the Davenport Academy
of Sciences, which has recently set aside a room for our especial use.
At present we have 22 active members, mainly interested in orni-
thology, botany and geology. The society is in a 0 ...; 1.:..
edition, and has bright prospects for the future.-- .. i. .-
Cor. Sec.
161, Newu Yorke (E). This Chapter was organized early in r883
by six of us boys, from whom we elected a Presid.i.'- .
Treasurer, and Curator. The other two were active
could not have a club composed of officers only, so we elected new
members; but even then there was a general desire to hold office.
We discussed and decided many questions, wrote essays, and es-
tablished a paper, and printed about thirty copies a month on the
hektograph. The printing, however, was so serious an affair that
we were obliged to cut our -t-l-- --A ;,ji7 to the backbone.
It was easy to vote, but 1.11. I, .. . r resolutions carried
out. There was only one that never failed: We voted to go on ex-
cursions, and we went.
When our membership increased to ten we soon had seven officers
and only three active members. This caused trouble, and somehow
our teacher heard of it. So we had a talk with him about it, and we
decided to make him a member. At our first rc'- -7i t- -ext fall
we elected the 1 i .-.. officers; President, J i Vice-
President, W. -. I treasurer, A. Griswold; . L. G.
Morse; Assistant Secretary, J. C. D. Kitchen; *...... I. L.
Rogers. II. J. Brevoort. III. L. Morse. This year our presi-
dent wisl-1 0 r" n- -s we elected ,I r 11 . officers: Presi-
dent, I. LI .. President, ....... treasurer, David
Banks; -. .. i Morse; Curators, I. Herbert Thomson.
II. Herbert Wadle. III. Wilfrid Lay. IV. Julian Chamberlain.
Several older boys joined us, and we soon discovered that we could
have as much fun making speech. I .. into the active
work of the A. A., as wecould by i. I ... ,. Our roll of mem-
bers now contains over sixty names.
We now have a MS. paper, prepared and read by two editors ap-
pointed each month. It contains short essays and contributions from
the boys on scientific ai-i-* and criticisms. We have lately es-
tablished a column, I .- Owl's Report." At the feet of an
owl, stuffed by one of the boys, hangs the Owl bag," into which
any one may drop written questions.-The editors collect and answer
them. We have over seven hundred specimens, many of them val-
lable and rare. This is a partial record of such work as we have
c .. .. 1 .. 1 ... urselves.-The boys of Chapter 161.
Alass. We found a curious wasp's nest. It
is bell-shaped, and suspended from a spruce limb aboutsix inches
from the ground. The sides touched the ground .*.. :. one
place where was an opening several inches long. I,.. .I. be-
neath was hollowed o-t fo -mn- a cellar. The wasps ran in and out
of the door, like bees.-i-i a joke, Sec.

Notice / To The Fourlt and F/c I Centuries!

Secretaries of Chat ersl 3o0-400 are requested to send their re-
ports to thie Pr-esident immediately, as the P-ricnters of the Mnagazine
are about to move, and it becomes necessary to hasten al the MS.
for a few months. Chapiters 4go-0yco will kindly retortl by April
z5, instead of May I, andSo01-6oo by Afay 20.

EXCHANGES.

BIRDS' EGGS in sets ..c .1 r ...... -J. Grafton Parker, Jr.,
3529 Grand Boulevard, ,. i. i..
Correspondence desi.. .. Burlington, N. J., Box
232.
First-class eggs of American birds.-George H. Lorimer, Jr.,
2246 Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
Correspondence desired with all Chapters interested in minerals--
Ch. 814, A. A., 3088 Washington street, Roxbury, IMass., F. Edgar
I. i I 1 .. .I Tin ore desired. Also mounted sea-moss
for minerals.- E. D. Lowell, 722 W. Main street, Jackson, Mich.
Correspondence desired.- F. Northway, Sec. Ch. 937, Keno-
sha, Wis.
NEW CHAPTERS.

No, Name. No. of lMembers. A ddyess.
930 Nashville, Tenn. (B) ..... 4.OverLon Lea, Jr., Box 395.
931 Huron, Dakota (A)....... 4..E. S. Cheney.
932 Boston, Mass. (1).......... 7..J. Sears, 32 Chester Sq.
933 Sunny Side, ".. (A)..16..Ch. A. C---.1- crct'tt1 Co.
934 Malden, Mas -; ..... 9..H. W. :....,
935 Sycamore, Illinois ......... .Vernon 1 .. lox 2.

i886.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 479

No. Name. No. of Members. Address. DIssOLVIED.
936 London, Eng. (F) ........ 4..Miss Frances Sterling, 18 Shef-
field Terrace, Kensington. 844 Columbia, S. C. ............. J. M. McBryde.
937 Kenosha, Wis. (B)........ 4..E. F. Northway.
938 Cambridgeport, Mass. (C). 5..Justus W. Folsom, All are invited to join the A. A., and all communications for this
29 Inman Street.
939 North Wales, Pa. Street. department should be addressed to the President:
940 Dayton, O. (C).... i. ..I....... M.cDonaid, AR. HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Central H. School. Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

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 JANUARY PUZZLES were received, too late for acknowledgment in the March number, from Dash," London, 4- L.
S. C., Nova Scotia, 4.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 20, from Paul Reese- B. L. Z.
Bub, No. i Sadie and Bessie Rhodes _. the Dominie "- R. H. C. H.-Lulu May-" Clifford and Coco "-" Shumway
Hen and Chickens - i .;. -i Turrill .... '-ride Bertha Gerhard and A. S. Zimmerman -" Pepper and Maria"--" L. E.
Phant"-" L. Los T' .... i.. Ther "-" Betsey Trotwood"-" Cricket" and Bob "- r"-,"-? In- i;n Mlinnie -" Mis' Med-
ders and tc --"- ... Anselmo Valley"-"B. L. Z. Bub," Phila.-M E. d'A.-Stella .. -- i .--'"TV'--- "- San
Rafael- I i.i. I 1. Rob and Mabel Duncan- The Spencers-J. B. Longacre--Efie K. Talboys-Constance .. -- I II. God-
shall-" Chawly Boy"-"-T i Savoir Sa etSagesse "-Albert S. Gould--Eureka- Mohawk Valley-M ollie Ludlow-Dash-
Nellie and Reggie Carey i .1 II." -" Frying-pan "-Belle Murdock S. A. B.- G. P. D.- Hazel and Laurel- Alamma and Fanny.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 20, from Nellie B. Ripley, 4- Marie A. T., 3-
C. H. E. Dunn, i -Lilly Macdonald, Anne, Tillv and I i i. i-"Jack and Jill," 2-J. Leigh, -" F. "':1 ':.. 1 3-
"Two Little Maids," 8-A. P. -.:.. .i- H. W. Reynolds, - i I Blynn, 2-G. Roome, t-S. Hamell, 2-- i .11 -
Maude S., 8- H. Du Barry, 2- iI i I ., I -J. Bigger, i-- L. Martin, 3-G. S. Seymour & Co., 9 R. G. and W., i -W. andW.
La Bar, 7 Felix and M. A.." 3 -" Arrow," Katie D., 2 A. and B. Knox, 8- Lewis B., E. E. Abbott, A. P. L., I -
W. Hannaford, 4- MA. G. Fiero, 2-" Count No Account," 5-J. M. I .;. ; Gracey, 2-- E. Thanhauser, I -" Devonite," etc., 4
Rena and Sidney, 3-A. G. Towles, i- B. Perault, 7- C. Loeb, 2 - ....... ., May, and Warren, I- Vi and Sals, 3- M. L. Mayo,
3- F. V. Lincoln, i A. H. Emdell, i B. Dixon, 2- C. Chadwick, Susie W., 2 C. Small, i -" Maid Marjory," 3 B. L., 2
W. B. Greene, 8- A. S. Scudder, 6 Rosa A. i W. P. Beam, 5- Emily 0., I- A. C. and R. E. Rowe, I- A. R. Fludder, 2
-F. Matteson and G. A. Bunn, 4-" R. U. Pert, H. .- . i -A. D. Brown, i- L. J. Robbins, -E. Halle, 3- G. -t-lin-
-F. B. Buckwalter, M.'E.Breed, i- C. Gattman,- i C .-1 7 ;-M- W.McNair, 2--F. W. Taft, --C ii.
S- A. Converse, David 0.. 3 -A. M. Tuttle, 2- - I i ,..-. 3--L. E. Brickett, 2 A. F. Mitchell, z-G. E.
Paquin, I-"Locust Dale Folks," 9-E. S. Hills, 2- .i H. A. Kuehn, 2- W. Chase, --H. L. Bogert, --C. Race,
2- L. Miln, 2- T. T -" The Crawfords," i E. T and P. Lloyd, 3 Guild, 2- ilamma and Flossie, 7- R. E. Olwine,
S-E. Wickersham, Jupe," --E. M. Bennett, -W. Q T-F4.tn. er- 2-A. B.: a i-W. and Severa, 3-C. D.
Mason, T i -.i .** 3- G. A. Howell, I Bo Peep, i-M. M. : i r -'. A Walton, 8 i '. and Susie, 3 C. H. L'Engle,
7-A. - I Harrington, -N. E. Lee, i--M. M. Mead, 2-B. B. -..i. Rosalie, 3-C. E. Gutman, 4-
Goose," i L. Sprecher, 2 L. Reynolds, 2- A. Lilmer, 2- G. W. Furbeck, 2- i ... ., i A. Crawford, 2-" Uno Hoo,"
3 M. Francis, i- A. M. Burbank, 4 -J. A. Keeler, 4 L. C. H-l ?n,^,- a M. T. Knowlton, 2- E. G. Wolff, i -" Coggand I,"
6-C. L. W., 3 -" Marjorie Daw," 3--E. and F. .1 W-M i .-W. Keep, J. E. Mitchener, i- A. P. Harris, I -
H. T. C., 3 -S. P. and Baron, 3- M. P. Dell, ... 6- G. E. Keech, -" Dolly Varden," 4- C. G. and A. S. Trumbull, 5 -
M. Q. Smith, 3 -" Mother and Son," Mamie V. B., 2 Harry B., 2 M. Seavey, J. Blanche, i B. Carmichael, 3- J. M. G.,
3 -" Jack Sprat," 7 -E. and B. Fennel, 2 -"P. D. Rooster,"2- G. T. Hughes, 4 -" Stovey," M. S. Pratt, i -C. H. Urmston, 5
-" Nanki-Poo," i F. Eckman, 4- E. H. Seward, 8 M. E. Lumm, i Fan, 2 E. H. Rossiter, i Pet, 3- E. Young and J. Du-
puis, 9 F. Jarman, 3- H. Couch, 8 B. E. Ells, 2 S. A. Weeks, 4 C. Fell, i J. M. Sturdy, E. J. Bogen, 2 Katie and
Auntie, -" A Family at : D.Faulkner, 7-" Old Carthusian," 7 --J. Moses, i-" Russie," 3 A. B. Smith, i S. Viles,
8 --B. Atkins, 2-J. Fox, R I i, a -" WeThree," 6--J. E. and M. Stork, i-L. C. Bradley, 7-L. M. Holly, i --J. M. Moore,
I-" T. Superbus," 8-N. Fritz 9-F. ikes, 9--F. ickes, 1-H. E. ; --, i-"N. C. .- .. ..1... .. .-B. Ferris, 8--"Ruita," 2-
"Murray and Percy," 7-Mamie R., 8- M. aMuzzy, 4-"Bessie L. Meeks, I i i .! 3- L. and C. Hendrickson, i
-M. and H. Granger, i- Laura and Annie, 6 Maud E. Palmer, 9-Avis and S. Davenport, 5- A. M. Carter and F. S. Meri-
man, 3-L. Whitehurst, 4-G. G. Turner, 4-M3. Rolland, 4- F. Crandall, 4- L. F. George, 4- B. Rolland, 4 L. Boiler, 4-
H. Davis, 4-E. Kight, 4-K. V. Caffer, 4- M. Nicholson, 4-L. Glueck, 4-E. Bear, 4 M. A. i 'I. .. 4-E. Wallace, 4- F.
Jones, 4-H. Grant, 4- L. C. B., 6-Isabel, 3-Alice Solvay, i -J. H. Brackett, -F. D., 9 i 2 C. Holbrook, 2-
S. and F., 3.

WORID-SQUARES.E ward: i. A pillar. 2. A lady's reticule. 3. The French name of
Christmas-day. 4. A kind of wig of false hair.
I. i. ONE who contends in a race. 2. The American aloe. 3. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE. Across: i. An army. 2. Compe-
An artificial water-course. 4. To elude. 5. T'o .. tent. 3. Acid. 4. A name by which the heron is sometimes called.
II. I. Ajunto. 2. Over. 3. A kindof tea ,- ..I I Downward: i. To mince. 2. A hautboy. 3. An innuendo. 4. An
firms. 5. i ,Ii- i u aquatic fowl.
III. 1. f ... itay in a place. 3. A kind of wild ox. LOWER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE. Across: i. A plate of baked clay.
4. Images. 5. Compact. YORS TRULY AND T. M. 2. An ancient garden. 3. To peruse. 4. Siestas. Downward:
i. An aquatic fowl. 2. Notion. 3. To vault. 4. Closes.
Centrals (reading across), unfriendly. Central (reading down-
CONNECTEI DOUBLE SQUASES. ward), a back door or gate. "L. LOS REGNL

BAGATELLE.
SUPPLY the missing vowels in the following sentences, and make
seven axioms. From each of these axioms select a word of equal
*length. When these words are placed one below another, central
. . letters will spell the name of an article much used by Chinamen.
S. M-R- H-ST-, L-SS SP--D.
2. M-D-C-N-S W-R- N-T M-- NT T- T L-V- -N.
UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE. Across: i. An old name for the 3. H- WH- H-D-S C-N F-ND.
hoopoo. 2. The tenor violin. 3. Fastens. 4. An army. Down- 4. PR-D- G--TH B-F-R-- F-L.
ward: i. Has. 2. Amixture. 3. Atribe of Indians. 4. Apillar. 5. TH- -BS-NT P-RTY -S -LW -YS F--LTY.
UPPER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE. Across: I. Confined. 2. A county 6. CR-WD -S N-T C-M3P-NY
in Nebraska. A kind of fat. 4. A plate of baked clay. Down- 7. P-NN- W- S-, P -ND F -L- SH. cIL.B'T FOREST.

THE RIDDLE-BOX.

HOUlR-GLASS.
READING across : Pertaining to Tartarus. 2. Those who cut
grain with sickles. 3. To distort. 4. To contend. 5. In April. 6.
Astern. 7. Buffoons. 8. Morbid hunger. 9 Mentalpower.
What do the central letters spell ?

PI.
Pr-T- lh, ttha lameness pashot ni eth ari
S I- .I.!- tihw lal stingh raif,
Ripngs thiw ehr dognel unss dan sliver rina,
Si hiwt su cone giana.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters.
When the words have been rightly -... .- ...1. I :.. -... below the
other in the order here given, the i; ..I i .11 L I t the same
and the third row of letters will spell the name of a i 1. 1 : cel-
ebrated, with appropriate ceremonies, in many of the ... ates.
Of this day, J. G. Whittier wrote: "The wealth, beauty, fertility,
and healthfulness of the country largely depend upon the conserva-
tion of our forests and the -.1 ..,:. of trees."
Cross-words: I. Killed. : i scatter. 3. A wooden shoe. 4.
A kind of shin. s. A piece of leather. 6. A kind of chair. 7. Ef-
ficient. 8. :.'

ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.

I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND : i. In lamentable. 2. One-half
of an exaction. 3. Distress. 4. A kingdom of Europe. 5. Damp.
6. A furrow. 7. In lamentable.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In lamentable. 2. Of-
ten eaten with eggs. 3. One of the great lakes. 4. The name of a
r-. -: i. i . .: -.. 1644. 5. Moving power. 6. A

III. CENTIAL DIAMOND: i. In lamentable. 2. A boy's nick-
name. 3. A claw. 4. Ten hundred thousand. 5. Damp. 6. A
word that expresses denial. 7. In lamentable.
IV. LowER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In lamentable. 2.
What Mr. Pickwick called young Weller 3. A portable chair. 4.
The surname of a president of the United States. 5. A brick-layer.
6. A prefix meaning "not." 7. In lamentable.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: i. In lamentable. 2. A
Scotch nickname. 3. The name of a Roman emperor, the son of
Vespasian. 4. Unassuming. 5. One of Napoleon's marshals. 6.
Rested. 7. Inlamentable. F. .NICOLLS.

MYTHOLOGICAL NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of forty-nine letters, and am a quotation from a
poem by N. P. Willis.
My 10-37-16-o0-13-23-28 was the name of a river god. My 1-7
was his daughter. My 39-5-19-30-14-18 is the animal into which

she was changed. My 26-33-8-40-24 was her guardian. My 4-21
-3-35-47-6-28 are flowers named in th i, 1 tl '-. -1 -.i to have
sprung up expressly for her food while. I.. ..... ;-----
her guardian had a remarkable supply i ..- .
of a classical poet who wrote of her. I . I .. her 15-
36-11-29-32-27. At sunset she was I "---5 to a
24-12-31-46-2. In her disguised form, she used her -
writing her name. She wrote it in the -.- ..r
footed messenger who destroyed her ..-.. .. a curious
winged 3-31-48. My 34-18-44-49 is the name under which she
was worshiped when restored to her original form. j. P. B.

AN EASTER REBUS.

--

1 '

THE rebus is pictured on the string of e7- b- n;ng at the
S :1 -r 1 egg, "Bid Folly fly," etc. i.. .--.is a four-

INVERTED PYRAMID.
AcaRoss: i. Deprived of inhabitants. 2. Appointed. 3. Misled.
4. Flowers of a certain kind. 5. A number. 6. In .. I
DOWNWARD: I. In pyramid. 2. A prefix. 3. A. -..r 4. A
Hebrew measure. 5. A guide. 6. Not utilized. 7. Loaded. S. Re-
lating to the goddess of evil. 9. To spread. 1o. A boy's nickname.
to. In pyramid. F. L. F.
Ir. In pyramid. P. L. r.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER.
ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA. CONNECTED DIAMONDS. Upper Diamond: x. J. 2. Mob. 3.
When Fortune means to men most good Macaw. 4. Jocular. s. Balks. 6. Was. 7. R. Left-hand Dia-
She looks upon them with a .,.... mood: J. Rab. 3. Renew. 4. Janitor. 5. Betso. 6.
l I ., Sc. 4. Woo. 7. R ight-hand Diamond: R. 2. Set, 3. Sugar.
SRenus. March rain spoils more than clothes. 4. Regaled. 5Claw. 6. Ren(t). 7. D. Lower Diamond: i.
CONNECTED DOUsBE i, I pper left-hand square: I. Halt. R. 2. Oat. 3. Occur. 4.Racemed. 3. Tumid. 6. Red. 7.
. Aria. 3. Leer. 4 I i i -.ht- hn .-,e: I. Team. D. CentralWord-square. Across: i. Was. 2. Ore. 3. Oat.
2. Argo. 3. Rial. 4. Test. Lower I I, ,, .,,. I. Fast. a. Downward: r. Woo. 2. Ara. 3. Set.
Inca. 3. Star. 4. Hens. Lower right-hand square. i. Test. 2. NOVEL ACROSTICS. Third row, "Mothering Sunday"; fifth
Ache. 3. Rhea. 4. Sods. row, "The Lenten Season." Cross-words: i. liMiTed. 2.
BEHEADINGS. Sir Isaac Newton. Cross-words : S-tone. 2. clOtHed. 3. teThErs. 4. scHoLar. 5. prEsEnt. 6. baRoNet.
I-rate. 3. R-over. 4. I-deal. 5, S-tory. 6. A-tone. 7. A-lone. 7. prInTed. 8. caNtEen. 9. reGeNts. so. reSiSts. s. prU-
8. C-rime. 9. N-ever. o1. E-bony. rj. W-here. x1. T-ripe. dEnt. 2. maNdAte. 13. moDeSty. 14. chAmOis. 15. saY-
13. 0-zone. 14. N-acre. iNgs.
RHOMBOID. Across: I. Minus. 2. Tines. 3. Pipes. 4. AN OCTAGON. I. Hod. 2. Lapel. 3. Hateful. 4. Operate.
Tamer. 5. Liter.-- CRoss-woRD ENIGMA. Crocus. 5. Defamed. 6. Lutes. 7. Led.

[APRIL,

i
iI

4 :

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

	Front Cover
	Frontispiece
	Casperl
	An April day
	Little Lord Fauntleroy
	An imprisoned whale
	The ballad of Johnny Picklefri...
	A rainy day - Historic girls
	Personally conducted: A mountain-top...
	A voyage
	George Washington
	The icicle
	New bits of talk for young folk:...
	Vacation-schools in Boston
	Sophie Conner and the vacation...
	Wonders of the alphabet
	Ben's sister
	A visit to Shakspere's school
	Answered riddle-jingles
	A grandmother who can draw
	Jack-in-the-pulpit
	The letter-box
	The Agassiz report: Sixtieth...
	The riddle-box
	Back Cover
	Spine

MILLISECOND	CLASS.METHOD	MESSAGE
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor	Application State validated or built
0	sobekcm_database.verify_item_lookup_object
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor	Navigation Object created from URI query string
0	sobekcm_database.verify_item_lookup_object
0	sobekcm_page_globals.display_item	Retrieving item or group information
0	sobekcm_page_globals.get_entire_collection_hierarchy	Retrieving hierarchy information
0	sobekcm_assistant.get_entire_collection_hierarchy
0	cached_data_manager.retrieve_item_aggregation
0	cached_data_manager.retrieve_item_aggregation	Found item aggregation on local cache
0	item_aggregation_builder.get_item_aggregation	Found 'all' item aggregation in cache
0	system.web.ui.page.page_load (ufdc.page_load)
0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor.on_page_load
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_style_references	Adding style references to HTML
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Reading the text from the file and echoing back to the output stream
63	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Finished reading and writing the file