Front Cover
 A rocky mountain hermit
 The baby's dimple
 The monster
 A sad case - A little seamstre...
 Little lord Fauntleroy
 A royal fish
 The owl, the bat, and the...
 The jolly old knight - The notional...
 Nan's revolt
 A duel with a stork
 An army
 George Washington
 On the Willey-brook trestle
 The giraffe
 The children of the sun
 Wonders of the alphabet
 A ballad of base-ball
 Man overboard!
 The kelp-gatherers
 The sea-urchin - A new theory
 Work and play for young folk: A...
 The sailor boy
 For middle-aged little folk
 The Agassiz association - Sixty-fourth...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
"A monthly magazine for boys and girls."
Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued August 1886
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00174
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 13
mods:number 13
No. 10
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 13, no. 10
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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D3 A rocky mountain hermit 3 Chapter
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D4 The baby's dimple Poem
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D13 Bopeep
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D14 An army 14
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D15 George Washington 15
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D16 On Willey-brook trestle 16
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D19 Wonders alphabet 19
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St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00174
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00174
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 722
    A rocky mountain hermit
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
        Page 728
        Page 729
        Page 730
    The baby's dimple
        Page 731
    The monster
        Page 732
    A sad case - A little seamstress
        Page 733
    Little lord Fauntleroy
        Page 734
        Page 735
        Page 736
        Page 737
        Page 738
    A royal fish
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
        Page 743
        Page 744
        Page 745
        Page 746
    The owl, the bat, and the bumble-bee
        Page 747
    The jolly old knight - The notional nightingale
        Page 748
    Nan's revolt
        Page 749
        Page 750
        Page 751
        Page 752
        Page 753
    A duel with a stork
        Page 754
        Page 755
        Page 756
    An army
        Page 757
    George Washington
        Page 758
        Page 759
        Page 760
        Page 761
        Page 762
        Page 763
    On the Willey-brook trestle
        Page 764
        Page 765
        Page 766
        Page 767
    The giraffe
        Page 768
        Page 769
    The children of the sun
        Page 770
    Wonders of the alphabet
        Page 771
        Page 772
        Page 773
    A ballad of base-ball
        Page 774
    Man overboard!
        Page 775
    The kelp-gatherers
        Page 776
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
        Page 783
        Page 784
    The sea-urchin - A new theory
        Page 785
    Work and play for young folk: A rope yarn spun by an old sailor
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
    The sailor boy
        Page 790
    For middle-aged little folk
        Page 791
        Page 792
        Page 793
    The Agassiz association - Sixty-fourth report
        Page 794
        Page 795
    The letter-box
        Page 796
        Page 797
        Page 798
    The riddle-box
        Page 799
        Page 800
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

Jv..;~ il-i









AUGUST, 1886.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



A FEW days ago as I was coming out of the
dark mouth of a caion, glad to be once again in the
low afternoon sunshine and the free air, there
rang out from the blooming plum-thicket beside
me a clear, low whistle, repeated often. It was
only a curlew hidden down by the brook, under the
sweet-scented canopy of flowers; but the whistle
came again so sweetly and boyishly that my
thoughts flew far away; the tired horse fell into a
walk; the reins dropped from my hand over the
high Mexican saddle-horn ; the mountains and the
flower-covered valley seemed blotted out of sight,
and instead there came up a vision of a little
brown-eyed boy, who lives two thousand miles
away-he seemed to be standing before me and
looking up, whistling just as the curlew whistles.
But there was no one near. I was alone among
the mountains, twenty miles away from any man,
and twice as far from any whistling lad. It was only
a little vision that the curlew's note called up for
me, but I was grateful to the hidden bird; for that
clear remembrance was like sight, and it was long
since I had seen a human face or heard a voice.
The curlew calling by the brook never knew that it
was doing a kindness for a boy far away on the
other side of the continent; but in jogging my
memory it reminded me of a letter, lying tucked
away, which had cost its writer a great deal of hard
work- a letter from the brown-eyed lad who thinks
the life of a backwoodsman almost as interesting
as the life of Robinson Crusoe and the other won-
derful men in the story-books. Perhaps there are

some other boys who would like to hear how a man
lives all alone in the Rocky Mountains.
Near the central part of the Territory of Wyo-
ming there is a group of mountains which belong
to the Rocky Mountain system, though they are far
separated from the highest range. All the moun-
tains are higher than any of our Eastern ranges;
but standing in the midst of plains that are many
thousand feet above the sea, their general height
does not seem great. They are very beautiful in
their covering of heavy pine forests with count-
less tall crags and towers and sharp obelisks of
natural rock rising from their summits; and in
the center of the group there stands one lofty peak
rising far above all its fellows. While all the moun-
tains around were gay with spring flowers, its high
head was still wrapped in snow; and now as mid-
summer approaches, it is still crowned with a white
wreath which will only melt away in the late sum-
mer, to return in the early autumn.
The Rocky Mountains are unlike the other great
ranges of the world, in having broad, smooth,
grassy valleys scattered everywhere among them.
Some of these valleys are of very great size, even
among the highest mountains, and they are so
different from other mountain valleys that they
have received a different name; they are generally
called parks. This lower group of mountains also,
like the great main range, has these lovely natural
parks of smaller size. The largest and most beau-
tiful of them all, a mile in width and many miles
in length, lies along the eastern side of the great



No. 10.



peak; and just where the evening shadow of the
mountain falls across the park, shutting off an
hour or two of late sunshine, there stands a little
lonely log cabin, which is my hermitage. There
I am spending a month or two, far away from
men, like Robinson Crusoe. I have. tn he sure.
the company of a horse and a dol. I.ui. I.. -. !: l...
man-not even a Man Friday; i,.1 rhl-.:!..,... ,:
it is not possible for me to talk t.. ..,. i: 1 .,-r
do a little talking with my per ..''.1 r.:! .,
queer sort of a life I lead. Fc' :... i .i -
derness I have one great comfort I..!I. -i .1-i. *-I
to poor old Robinson -sometim: I. r ....i !..r
rides, I can get letters; though, II... i....- r...l,...
is fifty miles away, mail days -.! :-i ..
Still, slowly passed along from I.,r.:l, r.. ...!.
letters come and go; and so. Ir,,:. .,r
write will reach the railroad air. ti ..I I il.: ..1. ,
Life in this part of the globe- !. -
lonely. On nearly all the rivec: .... .. :l- .. i
Wyoming there are ranches scar. :..I ..i.r -.-..
of ten or twenty miles apart. ',In i!.
eastern edge of these mountains, iE. :
is a ranch only eight miles awz ti: .:.
my hermitage, and there is anor I,. I
the foot-hills on the western sid.. .. .-
twenty miles away. But now :.11 lh
ranches are deserted, for the
only business in all this region
is the raising of cattle, and
through the early summer all __
hands are hard at work on .
the "round-ups," which run
over the whole breadth of the
territory, searching for cattle
scattered by the storms of
the last winter. Through

the cold and the darkness and
the deep snows of winter
Crusoe-life would, indeed, be
rathertoohard to bear. Then,
there were three of us together
in the little cabin, and there
were sometimes friendly visits
between the men on the dis-
S tant ranches. But now, alone
in the wilderness, twenty miles
from any human being, I feel
the loneliness less than did we
three together in the still, dead
winter; for the whole world
is alive and beautiful.
No one knows, moreover,
how much pleasure there is
in the friendship of an affec-
tionate dog and an intelligent
horse, until he is shut off from all other company,
and is obliged to make them his intimate friends.
Gip and Monkey, my dog and my horse, spend
so many hours of every day exploring the moun-
tains with me, that we have
goiwn to be very faithful

... .... .. .
,, f a [ I , r. .. . I ,- ..,
.:., i t.. I ..
.;* I. II.. .
I.. ..- .. .

.,, II.' II-I -

tI I i... I

I! ,t I-, I_ .




a hermit. To sit still and think all the time would
be the hardest work in the world for me. The
only necessary work that falls to my lot at present
is keeping the camp, preparing food and looking
after a small band of horses that are running at
large in the park. My first task is to ride a few
miles up the park and see that the horses are on
their proper range; and after that, all the day is
free for reading or writing or hunting or wandering
about through the mountains, finding fresh vari-
eties of flowers or exploring unknown cafions or
climbing the tall crags to look across the moun-
tains to the vast plains that stretch away as far as
the eye can reach, like a blue sea. In these daily

way. But then it is true, to be sure, that some
of them are not always very kindly treated by us
when we meet them, so perhaps we are to blame.
There are two families of neighbors, who live in
caves on the mountain, for whom I have a great
respect. I would not give them offense on any
account, for they are very powerful, and usually
have things all their own way in the neighbor-
hood. They are the brown bears and the gray
bears. Often I see their great fresh foot-prints
in the mud along the creeks when I go out in the
early morning. The tracks look as if a man with
very large, broad feet had been running bare-
footed through the mire. I never follow their


rides through the wild mountains there is so much
that is new and strange to Eastern eyes, so much
that is beautiful and grand, so many kinds of curi-
ous wild animals, such quantities of gay flowers
never seen in the States, that there is enough
pleasure in them to make up for all the loneliness
of these few weeks.
We seem to be alone most of the time -Mon-
key, Gip, and I-and that is why we are such
friends; but we are not alone so much as we seem
to be. There are plenty of neighbors upon the
mountain-sides, and some that wander through
the park; but they are so very unsociable that
when they see us coming they walk the other

trail very far to see where they have gone, for
I prefer to have a friend or two with me when I go
to make the acquaintance of these mighty gentle-
men or the members of their families.
At the nearest ranch on the western side of the
mountains, there lives a German who was the first
pioneer to bring cattle in among these valleys.
The encounters that he has had with all the various
animals that live in the forest are very interesting.
Not long ago, this old fellow built a new cabin for
himself at the foot of a mountain. Before his
house was finished, he went out one day and
killed a fine fat deer. Bringing the carcass
home at night, he hung it up against the back of


his house, and then hanging a blanket over the
doorway which was still without a door, he went to
bed. He slept soundly, but there dimly seemed to
him to be some disturbance about the house during
the night; and when he went out in the morning,
every bit of his fine deer was gone, and the bear
tracks up and down the mountain-side showed
what had become of it. But game was plentiful, and
it was not long before his deer was replaced by a
big-horned sheep, which is the most tender and
juicy meat that ever was eaten. This time he was
more careful, and lay awake half the night, fearing
that he should lose his stock of fresh meat. When
it was very late and he was about to give up
watching, he at last heard a sound at the back of
the house. Something was at work on his wild
mutton. There was a noise of scratching and
tearing. It seemed as if several bears were mak-
ing short work with his meat. He seized his load-
ed rifle and jumped out of bed with very scanty
clothing on. Going to the doorway and drawing
aside the blanket, he saw that the night was
cloudy and as dark as Egypt. He stopped and
thought for a moment that it would be impossible
to kill a bear in such darkness, even if he should
be able to hit it, for these beasts are so tough
that they will carry a dozen bullets about in
their bodies without much inconvenience, if they
are not wounded in the heart or the brain. So
our friend laid down his rifle and took instead a
loaded shot-gun. This is the thing for them,"
he said to himself; it will pepper them all over
and scare them so they never will come again."
Then, with gun in hand he silently climbed the pro-
jectiftg logs at the nearest corner of the cabin, and
creeping across the roof, peeped over the edge
above the place where the sheep was hung. Some-
thing appeared to be moving below in the dark-
ness. Taking a random aim, he blazed away.
The shot scattered and evidently took effect; for
there arose a chorus of growls and howls and yells
that would have made the bravest man's hair stand
on end; there was a scampering and shuffling of
many feet up and down, and around the cabin; even
in the thick darkness he could see many great fat
creatures running and sniffing angrily about to find
who had attacked them. He saw that he was be-
sieged on his own roof by at least a dozen furious,
hungry bears. They did n't scare worth a cent,"
he said. It was not long before they discovered
whence the shot had come, and knowing very well
that there is strength in numbers, they determined
to have that man for supper, even if they had to
put off their supper till breakfast-time. So while
some sat down here and there, the others walked
about, grunting and growling over their injuries.
Bears can climb quite as well as men, and old

Frank stood with fear and trembling in the middle
of the roof, ready to receive with the butt of his
gun the first nose that should rise above the edge.
If two had happened to mount the roof on opposite
sides, there would have been a small chance of life
for the poor man. But the bears thought that solid
ground was the safer place for them, so there they
staid ; and up above sat old Frank shivering, how
long he never knew. It seemed centuries. It was
a sharp, frosty autumn night, and, as he had on
very little clothing, Frank was soon chilled almost
to his bones. But the bears' coats were warm
enough. They were more hungry than they were
cold, so there they sat and growled and waited for
their prey to come down and be eaten. Soon a
bitterly cold wind began to blow. Every joint in
the poor man's body stiffened; but it seemed pleas-
anter to freeze to death than to be eaten up by those
ugly beasts, so he bore his discomfort as best he
could. The hours of that night seemed to be
endless, and the chill grew terrible; but at last
a dull gray streak appeared in the East. No man
was ever more glad to see the first sign of dawn
than was that chilly watcher. Bears are very shy
by daylight, and as the twilight little by little grew
into broad day, Frank's visitors trotted away dis-
appointed and sulky up to their dens on the moun-
tain. Their victim, more dead than alive, was able
at last to climb down, and kindle a fire to warm
himself. He still lives to tell the story in the
same log cabin; but it has a good stout door now,
and he will never again go bear-hunting with a shot-
So you see it is quite as pleasant not to have the
bear families too neighborly. They rarely come
out of the woods by daylight, except in late sum-
mer and autumn when the plum-thickets are hang-
ing full of fruit; and so, fortunately, we do not
often see them.
The most sociable of all our wild neighbors
is the prong-horned antelope, of which there are
several bands running up and down the park. Every
day as I ride out to the horse range I meet some
of them; often, in suddenly mounting the crest of
a ridge, I surprise a little herd grazing just beyond.
Then it is beautiful to watch them as they bound
gracefully away down the slope with the speed
of a bird, seeming hardly to touch their slender
limbs to the ground as they fly along. Gip likes
nothing better than to go tearing after them as
long as his breath holds out; though that small dog
always finds it a hopeless chase, for only greyhounds
and the swiftest horses can overtake the antelope
when it is strong and fat from feeding freely on the
fresh June grass.
Returning a little while ago, after many weeks
of civilized life in a Colorado town, I found the




old cabin deserted; for those who had been my
companions there had gone far out on the plains
to look after our wandering cattle. In the late
afternoon, when the peak's shadow fell across the
valley, while I was busy making ready the simple
supper, Gip stood in the doorway on guard, and
I heard him give a long, low growl of suspicion.
Looking out, I saw two pretty antelopes standing
before the door, not a stone's throw away, peering
about in a timid, curious way to see. what change

had come over the little house which before had
been so quiet. It is not common to see them so
very near, and they were so pretty and graceful
that I could only stand and admire them for a
moment, forgetting my need of fresh meat. Their
little hook-shaped horns and dainty hoofs are as
black as polished jet ; their eyes are very large and
soft and dark; their bodies are a bright tawny color,
but the throat and breast and limbs are snowy
white. There are few animals in the world that

' "If, "" ":


are more elegant both in shape and in their move- that only grass and cactus and low herbs can grow
ments than the prong-horned antelope. They upon it. The rolling land is green, and spangled
came tripping down the slope with all the airs and with flowers through May and June; but after mid-
graces of two little dandies ; now trotting easily summer it becomes as dry as a desert, and in that
forward; now clearing a fallen tree with a beauti- way kind Providence changes the standing grass
ful flying leap; now stopping a moment to gaze into hay which will feed the thousands of cattle and
horses and wild creatures
S-through the winter.
SAs I ride out of the pass
on these regular journeys
'-- for the mail, a coyote, or
prairie wolf, that lives close
by among the rocks, often
comes rushing out with a
doleful howl, and acts as if
fl wishing to make acquaint-
ance with Gip. Both the
Swolf and Gip seem to un-
clnot -.- '. derstand that they are blood
S"t : relations. They are nearly
ot oof equal size, and they run
up to each other as if they
0. would like to be friends; but
c when they are close together,
S ll the courage of one or the
other always fails. Either
StGip turns tail, allowing the
wolf to chase him within a
t s iwit p dozen steps of the horse's
'an4 i o o heels,-or the wolf takes
... fo .- w p e d i alarm, and Gip runs madly
after it until it disappears
._y .. __. -over a ridge. So the wild
COYOTES, OR PRAIRIE WOLVES, dog and the tame one make
little progress in their friend-
and sniff about for possible danger. It was quite ship. Yet it is not a very uncommon thing in the
flattering to a lonely hermit to receive a visit from Far West even for gentle and intelligent dogs to
neighbors as handsome and stylish as these. But, form a friendship with a pack of wolves, and to go
though a friendly visit would be very pleasant, a off and live with them, returning now and then to
full larder would be still pleasanter.
Fortunately for my shy visitors, all
the arms and ammunition had been
stowed away while the house was
closed, and could not be procured
before the wary creatures had trotted -
on out of easy rifle range. -_ .
Once in two weeks comes the prin- .
cipal event of my backwoods life,- .- ,-
a horseback ride of about forty miles
to carry letters to the nearest ranch.
and to get those that have collected ... .-i
there. After riding a few miles along
the valley and through a pass, I come
out upon the open rolling country PRAIRIE DOGS.
that stretches away for hundreds of i1iles without pay short visits to their old masters. But more
any covering of trees or bushes except along the often if a dog falls in with a pack of wolves, he is
streams; for this western prairie land is so dry quickly torn in pieces by them.




showers every afternoon,
andwhile the air through
/ the whole valley is cool
and very sweet with the
S perfume of a million
S''" '. flowers, I start out for
S' my daily ride. First
there is a mile over the
S. rich grassland along the
creek where the gay flow-
a ~ ers grow in far greater va-
ricty and beauty than in
any Eastern fields; then
there is a long stretch of
dry, rolling land which
~is all one great city of
prairie-dogs. At the
approach of strangers
there is great excitement
through this town of
7 ~-- -- little yellow pigmies.
---- .- Those which are look-
THE MiOUNTAIN LION. ing out from the highest
point give a few warning
Early in the morning, before the peak has begun calls. Then there is a tremendous scattering and
to gather its cap of thunder clouds which break in scampering in all directions of the fat, short-legged

-=: : "-2 ---=

a %32 .:-- m .-. -x J ,




little bodies in so hot haste that they look like balls
of yellow fur rolling across the gravel. Some have
been out feeding, and more have been about gos-
siping with their neighbors and making morning




calls, for they are famous little busybodies: but
when they hear the warning, all fly at full speed
to their own homes. Then when every one is sitting
at the mouth of its hole, they are ready to defy the
world. For a man and a horse they care little,
but at the sight of a dog, the city is in an uproar;
and, feeling perfectly safe by their own homes, they
delight to tease him. There is such a Babel of
shrill little voices chattering, scolding, squealing,
and yelping from hundreds of gravel-heaps, that
Gip stands for a minute perplexed, not knowing
on which one to spring first; then like a flash he
darts away to the nearest hole where a jolly little
tormentor is chattering its defiance. The prairie-
dog stands still in the doorway of its house, scold-
ing and twitching its tail as its enemy comes

charging down, until Gip's nose seems almost upon
it; then as quick as a wink, the little tail flies up
and Mr. Prairie-Dog is far away into the earth by
the time Gip has fairly reached the door of his
house. Then every dog in the town
redoubles its chattering, and it seems
as if a ripple of low laughter ran
through the company at the disap-
pointment of their enemy. But Gip,
after ramming his head as far as it can
be forced into the burrow, draws it
out with a sniff of regret and then is
off again, full tilt, after the next little
saucy rascal that sits on a neighbor-
ing sandheap, making merry over
his perplexity. Again he almost has
one; the prairie-dog sits unmoved
until Gip comes within a yard of the
hole, and then it vanishes. It seems
a very narrow escape for it; but it
is always just so narrow, and yet they
always escape. As long as man and
dog are in sight they keep up their
shrill din, like the chattering of a
thousand monkeys; and as long as we
are in their village, Gip flies madly
from hole to hole, always just so eager
and hopeful, though he has been chas-
ing them all his life and has never
*-. yet caught one.
The town of the prairie-dogs is in a
beautiful situation. It lies in the
broadest part of the park, surrounded
S by the highest and grandest of the
mountains. A few days ago, as I was
.. riding through it in the early morn-
ing, I saw an animal some distance
ahead running hard toward the woods.
Thinking it was a wolf or coyote, I
paid little attention at first, but look-
ing closer, I saw plainly that I was
mistaken, for its legs were short, and its body
long and heavy. It went springing over the grass
with long bounds, and its coat of fur was grayish,
shading to yellow brown; and I knew it must be
one of the great panthers which are generally
called mountain lions. I had never before met one,
though their great, round footprints, as large as
tea-plates, had often been seen in the soft snow
the last winter. Like other cats, they like to sleep
in the day and to prowl at night. Gip took a
long, wistful look at the lion; but he is a small
dog, and a very wise one, and he knew his life
would be short if he should approach very near
to that great creature, so he went back to his
hard work with the prairie-dogs, and left me to
go galloping off alone for a nearer view of the




lion. But Monkey dislikes wild beasts quite as
much as Gip, and would never willingly have car-
ried me very near to a beast of prey, even if the
lion had not run up into the rocks on the mount-
ain-side before I had seen it very clearly.
Beside the rough confusion of rocks into which
the panther ran, there was a gentle grassy slope
which seemed to extend to the top of the mountain.
I wanted to have one more look at the big cat,
so Monkey had to climb the long ascent, much
against his will, keeping as near to the rocks as
possible; and very soon Gip plucked up courage
to follow; but that was the last we ever saw of
the mountain lion. However, in wandering up
near the top of the mountain, I came on tracks
that were quite as interesting to me as was the lion.
They were the marks of a cloven hoof, nearly as
large as the tracks of an ox, but longer and more
pointed. As there were no cattle so high on the
mountain, it was plain, at a glance, that they were
footprints of the great wapiti, which, in the West,
is always called an elk. Hurrying on in hope of
catching sight of this great king of the forest, the
footprints grew fresher, and soon I came to a glade
where the grass, crushed down in spots, showed
that a startled band of elk had just risen from
their rest, and run away; and so, like a will-o'-the-
wisp, they led me on through the forest, always
letting me know that they were near, by their
fresh tracks, but never quite near enough to be
seen. The elk and the big-horned sheep are the
shyest of all these wild animals; and the elk have
the senses of sight and smell and hearing so very
keen, that they will see a hunter, and will run from
him, a dozen times for every time that he gets a
first sight of them. Their great branching ant-
lers, so large and heavy that a small boy could
hardly lift them from the ground, lie scattered
everywhere through the grass in the park, for they
shed them every spring; and everywhere on the
mountain-sides we find their footprints; and yet

it is quite a rare event to meet them, and still
more uncommon to kill them.
So all day long, with my pony and my dog, I


wandered contentedly along the mountain-side,
resting often under cool over-arching rocks or be-
side the snow-fed brooks, the banks of which are
streaked with the crimson of the wild cyclamen;
and all day long we tried to pay visits to our shy
neighbors; but wherever we called, they were not
at home. And, when the late afternoon began to
drop blue, gauzy veils of shadows over the east-
ward slope of the opposite mountain, we turned
back toward the lonely, silent home, which now
never hears the sweet sound of human speech.
I can not now tell you of all the queer inhabi-
tants of these mountains; but next time I shall
have something to say to you about the beaver,
the wild sheep, the buffalo, and some other inter-
esting neighbors of mine.



A SOUTH wind sought the baby's cheek,
Fresh from a laughing billow,
And blew in elfish glee against
The small face on the pillow.


Ho! THE great monster, the Sea !
Rushing and raging about,
Lashing his tail,-he must be
Hungry and frantic, no doubt!
Oh, should he open his lips,-
Woe to the beautiful ships!
Beautiful ships keep away
From the great monster to-day!
Ho the wild creature-the Sea !
Hungry and fierce he must be !

Lo the great monster, asleep,
Lying so quietly there !
Hear his low breathing so deep!
See the wind waving his hair !
Ho, little children, come near-
Come now and see him !-Don't fear.
Touch his soft mane in your play,
He will not harm you to-day.
Lo the huge creature asleep-
Breathing so low and so deep!


%Z~ r q1h~-*L*. ~ 4


-.- Is II
--~ 1-





Miss DOROTHEA DIMPLETON, whenever she went
Held in her neatly mittened hand a silken reticule;
When she went to shop, to market, or to visit all
She carried it, as if upon her way to sewing-school.
'T was always full, and yet her dearest friends had
never heard
What 't was full of, so they all agreed her conduct
was absurd.
Miss Dorothea Dimpleton had early learned to sew;
She could hem, and fell, and overseam, could
gather and could gore;
And she said, This is an art that every woman
ought to know,
But, alas my sex disdains to learn the useful any
more !
Yet I will not be discouraged; I will do my small
And perchance I may prevent the art from being
lost forever "
So she filled with pretty "hussifs"* her ample
Each stocked with thimble, needlecase, and scis-
sors, all complete,
And she stopped the little maidens on their way
from morning school,
And to each of them she kindly gave a "hussif"
fresh and neat.
And the little maids said, Thank you, Ma'am "
and curtseyed to the ground,
And then went and hid the "hussifs" where
they seldom could be found.
Miss Dorothea Dimpleton felt very sure, at last,
That every little girl in town was sewing with a
And it was not till at least a year of feeling sure
was past,
That she heard a truth so dreadful that it really
made her ill:

S -- _-- _._. _- -4
4- - -
-R_- 7 i
I .- -ii l -,

Of all those lovely hussifs" she had given in
the place,
There had not been a needle in one single needle-
case !
But that, you know, was years ago, before it had
been said,
" Be sure you 're right, and" (please observe the
then ") then go ahead "



SHE sat in her little rocking-chair, a-sighing and twirling her thumbs:
Oh, everything for my doll is done, and never to mending comes!
I have n't a morsel of sewing !-Dear Mother, in all the town,
Can't you find me one doll, no matter how small, who will wear out her gown ?"
""Hussif" (a contracted form of the word "house-wife ") was formerly used as a name for a little bag or case for holding sewing materials.








WHEN Mr. Hobbs's young friend left him to go
to Dorincourt Castle and become Lord Fauntleroy,
and the grocery-man had time to realize that the
Atlantic Ocean lay between himself and the small
companion who had spent so many agreeable hours
in his society, he really began to feel very lonely
indeed. The fact was, Mr. Hobbs was not a clever
man nor even a bright one; he was, indeed, rather a
slow and heavy person, and he had never made
many acquaintances. He was not mentally ener-
getic enough to know how to amuse himself, and in
truth he never did anything of an entertaining
nature but read the newspapers and add up his
accounts. It was not very easy for him to add up
his accounts, and sometimes it took him a long
time to bring them out right; and in the old days,
little Lord Fauntleroy, who had learned how to
add up quite nicely with his fingers and a slate
and pencil, had sometimes even gone to the
length of trying to help him; and, then too, he had
been so good a listener and had taken such an
interest in what the newspaper said, and he and
Mr. Hobbs had held such long conversations about
the Revolution and the British and the elections
and the Republican party, that it was no wonder
his going left a blank in the grocery store. At
first it seemed to Mr. Hobbs that Cedric was not
really far away, and would come back again; that
some day he would look up from his paper and
see the lad standing in the doorway, in his white
suit and red stockings, and with his straw hat on the
back of his head, and would hear him say in his
cheerful little voice : Hello, Mr. Hobbs This
is a hot day is n't it ? But as the days passed on
and this did not happen, Mr. Hobbs felt very dull
and uneasy. He did not even enjoy his news-
paper as much as he used to. He would put the
paper down on his knee after reading it, and sit
and stare at the high stool for a long time. There
were some marks on the long legs which made
him feel quite dejected and melancholy. They
were marks made by the heels of the next Earl of
Dorincourt, when he kicked and talked at the
same time. It seems that even youthful earls kick
the legs of things they sit on ; noble blood and
lofty lineage do not prevent it. After looking at
those marks, Mr. Hobbs would take out his gold
watch and open it and stare at the inscription:
" From his oldest friend, Lord Fauntleroy, to Mr.

Hobbs. When this you see, remember me." And
after staring at it awhile, he would shut it up with
a loud snap, and sigh and get up and go and
stand in the doorway-between the box of potatoes
and the barrel of apples-and look up the street.
At night, when the store was closed, he would light
his pipe and walk slowly along the pavement until
he reached the house where Cedric had lived, on
which there was a sign that read, This House
to Let"; and he would stop near it and look up
and shake his head, and puff at his pipe very hard,
and after a while walk mournfully back again.
This went on for two or three weeks before any
new idea came to him. Being slow and ponderous,
it always took him a long time to reach a new idea.
As a rule he did not like new ideas, but preferred
old ones. After two or three weeks, however,
during which, instead of getting better, matters
really grew worse, a novel plan slowly and deliber-
ately dawned upon him. He would go to see Dick.
He smoked a great many pipes before he arrived
at the conclusion, but finally he did arrive at it.
He would go to see Dick. He knew all about Dick.
Cedric had told him, and his idea was that perhaps
Dick might be some comfort to him in the way of
talking things over.
So one day when Dick was very hard at work
blacking a customer's boots, a short, stout man
with a heavy face and a bald head, stopped on the
pavement and stared for two or three minutes at
the bootblack's sign, which read :
He stared at it so long that Dick began to take a
lively interest in him, and when he had put the
finishing touch to his customer's boots, he said:
Want a shine, sir? "
The stout man came forward deliberately and
put his foot on the rest.
Yes," he said.
Then when Dick fell to work, the stout man look-
ed from Dick to the sign and from the sign to Dick.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
From a friend o' mine," said Dick,-" a little
feller. He guv' me the whole outfit. He was the
best little feller ye ever saw. He's in England
now. Gone to be one o' those lords."
Lord- Lord- "asked Mr. Hobbs, with pon-
derous slowness, "Lord Fauntleroy- Goin' to be
Earl of Dorincourt?"


Dick almost dropped his brush.
Why, boss!" he exclaimed, d'ye know him
herself ?"
I 've known him," answered Mr. Hobbs, wip-
ing his warm forehead, "ever since he was born.
We were lifetime acquaintances that's what we
It really made him feel quite agitated to speak
of it. He pulled the splendid gold watch out of
his pocket and opened it, and showed the inside
of the case to Dick.
"' When this you see, remember me,'" he read.
" That was his parting keepsake to me. 'I don't
want you to forget me'-those were his words-
I 'd ha' remembered him," he went on, shaking
his head, if he had n't given me a thing, an' I
had n't seen hide nor hair on him again. He was
a companion as any man would remember."
He was the nicest little feller I ever see,"
said Dick. "An' as to sand-I never ha' seen
so much sand to a little feller. I thought a heap
o' him, I did,-an' we was friends, too--we was
sort o' chums from the fust, that little young un
an' me. I grabbed his ball from under a stage
fur him, an' he never forgot it; an' he 'd come
down here, he would, with his mother or his
nuss an' he' d holler : Hello, Dick !' at me, as
friendly as if he was six feet high, when he war n't
knee high to a grasshopper, and was dressed in
gal's clo'es. He was a gay little chap, and when
you was down on your luck, it did you good to talk
to him."
That's so," said Mr. Hobbs. It was a pity to
make an earl out of him. He would have shone in
the grocery business-or dry goods either; he
would have shone!" And he shook his head with
deeper regret than ever.
It proved that they had so much to say to each
other that it was not possible to say it all at one
time, and so it was agreed that the next night
Dick should make a visit to the store and keep
Mr. Hobbs company. The plan pleased Dick well
enough. He had been a street waif nearly all
his life, but he had never been a bad boy, and
he had always had a private yearning for a more
respectable kind of existence. Since he had been
in business for himself, he had made enough
money to enable him to sleep under a roof instead
of out in the streets, and he had begun to hope he
might reach even a higher plane, in time. So, to
be invited to call on a stout, respectable man who
owned a corner store, and even had a horse and
wagon, seemed to him quite an event.
"Do you know anything about earls and cas-
tles?" Mr. Hobbs inquired. "I 'd like to know
more of the particulars."
"There 's a story about some on 'em in the

Penny Story Gazette," said Dick. It's called
the Crime of a Coronet; or, the Revenge of the
Countess May.' It 's a boss thing, too. Some of
us boys 're takin' it to read."
Bring it up when you come," said Mr. Hobbs,
" an' I'll pay for it. Bring all you can find that have
any earls in 'em. If there aren't earls, markises
'II do, or dooks-though he never made mention
of any dooks or markises. We did go over coronets
a little, but I never happened to see any. I guess
they don't keep 'em 'round here."
Tiffany 'd have 'em if anybody did," said
Dick, "but I don't know as I 'd know one if I
saw it."
Mr. Hobbs did not explain that he would not
have known one if he saw it. He merely shook
his head ponderously.
I s'pose there is very little call for 'em," he
said, and that ended the matter.
This was the beginning of quite a substantial
friendship. When Dick went up to the store, Mr.
Hobbs received him with great hospitality. He
gave him a chair tilted against the door, near a
barrel of apples, and after his young visitor was
seated, he made a jerk at them with the hand in
which he held his pipe, saying:
"Help yerself."
Then he looked at the story papers, and after
that they read, and discussed the British aristoc-
racy; and Mr. Hobbs smoked his pipe very hard
and shook his head a great deal. He shook it most
when he pointed out the high stool with the marks
on its legs.
There's his very kicks," he said impressively;
"his very kicks. I sit and look at 'em by the
hour. This is a world of ups an' it 's a world of
downs. Why, he 'd set there, an' eat crackers out
of a box, an' apples out of a barrel, an' pitch his
cores into the street; an' now he 's a lord a-livin'
in a castle. Those are a lord's kicks; they 'll be an
earl's kicks some day. Sometimes I says to my-
self, says I, Well, I '11 be jiggered !'"
He seemed to derive a great deal of comfort
'from his reflections and Dick's visit. Before Dick
went home, they had a supper in the small back-
room; they had crackers and cheese and sardines,
and other canned things out of the store, and Mr.
Hobbs solemnly opened two bottles of ginger ale,
and pouring out two glasses, proposed a toast.
Here's to him!" he said, lifting his glass,
"an'mayhe teach 'em a lesson -earls an' markises
an' dooks an' all! "
After that night, the two saw each other often,
and Mr. Hobbs was much more comfortable and
less desolate. They read the Penny Story Gazette,
and many other interesting things, and gained a
knowledge of the habits of the nobility and gentry



which would have surprised those despised classes
if they had realized it. One day Mr. Hobbs made
a pilgrimage to a book store down town, for the
express purpose of adding to their library. He
went to a clerk and leaned over the counter to
speak to him.
I want," he said, a book about earls."
"What exclaimed the clerk.
A book," repeated the grocery-man, "about
I '] -iri .,;- ," : i;.:1 1,.: 1:l.:llk 1.. .h h -ith I
q u e e r "" ,-Ci i r. t r

say m a, !:i-:: iii- -- ,-!,'.i;.

M r. i- ,-,i..1_: ., i, .!. l .:i. r-, : 1 ..i
dow n c.i. I .. ,- r l,, : I : .1,. "'

And as Mr. Hobbs heard of Queen Mary's deeds
and the habit she had of chopping people's heads
off, putting them to the torture, and burning them
alive, he became very much excited. He took his
pipe out of his mouth and stared at Dick, and at
last he was obliged to mop the perspiration from
his brow with his red pocket handkerchief.


'* -'. I'" '.' .'-. f-- '' ~\/ ^ '- -' 'fs^
I '
,' .o ," - ? y 1
: ,

LN I '.;r'- .
- ----1. '- -\z --^ ".

F;' jr^
" '.- l -'d i,, ',l .' .1 i
-.. "3 I ,1 " '' !, i
"~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~d "" II i'llill-' l i 'l=t~-
.~~~LD "v~ ~~~ .' ., .-'vt T""
I .- I , ,

earls? I.-. i.i ~..i :


- i

the clerk, with a smile.
Well," exclaimed Mr.
Hobbs, "I'll bejiggered! "
He was just going out of
the store, when the clerk "w1", Boss!" FXCLAJMI'-
called him back and asked
him if a story in which the nobility were chief
characters would do. Mr. Hobbs said it would-
if he could not get an entire volume devoted to
earls. So the clerk sold him a book called The
Tower of London," written by Mr. Harrison Ains-
w.orth, and he carried it home.
When Dick came they began to read it. It
was a very wonderful and exciting book, and the
scene was laid in the reign of the famous English
queen who is called by some people Bloody Mary.



Why, he aint safe "he said.
He aint safe! If the women
folks can sit up on their thrones an' give the word
for things like that to be done, who 's to know
what 's happening to him this very minute? He
's no more safe than nothing? Just let a woman
like that get mad, an' no one 's safe "
'"Well," said Dick, though he looked rather
anxious himself; ye see this'ere un is n't the one
that 's bossin' things now. I know her name's



, !'i *',


Victory, an' this un here in thebook,--her name
's Mary."
"So it is," said Mr. Hobbs, still mopping his
forehead; "so it is. An' the newspapers are not
sayin' anything about any racks, thumbscrews, or
stake-burnin's,--but still it does n't seem as if't
was safe for him over there with those queer folks.
Why, they tell me they don't keep the Fourth o'
July "
He was privately uneasy for several days; and
it was not until he received Fauntleroy's letter
and had read it several times, both to himself and
to Dick, and had also read the letter Dick got
about the same time, that he became composed
But they both found great pleasure in their let-
ters. They read and re-read them, and talked them
over and enjoyed every word of them. And they
spent days over the answers they sent, and read
them over almost as often as the letters they had
It was rather a labor for Dick to write his. All
his knowledge of reading and writing he had
gained during a few months when he had lived
with his elder brother, and had gone to a night-
school; but, being a sharp boy, he had made the
most of that brief education, and had spelled out
things in newspapers since then, and practiced
writing with bits of chalk on pavements or walls
or fences. He told Mr. Hobbs all about his life
and about his elder brother, who had been rather
good to him after their mother died, when
Dick was quite a little fellow. Their father had
died some time before. The brother's name was
Ben, and he had taken care of Dick as well as he
could, until the boy was old enough to sell news-
papers and run errands. They hadlived together,
and as he grew older Ben had managed to get
along until he had quite a decent place in a store.
"And then," exclaimed Dick with disgust,
"blest if he did n't go an' marry a gal! Just went
and got spoony, an' had n't any more sense left !
Married her, an' set up housekeepin' in two back
rooms. An' a hefty un she was,- regular tiger-cat.
She 'd tear things to pieces when she got mad,-
and she was mad all the time. Had a baby just
like her,--yell day 'n' night An' if I did n't
have to 'tend it an' when it screamed, she 'd fire
things at me. She fired a plate at me one day,
an' hit the baby cut its chin. Doctor said he 'd
carry the mark till he died. A nice mother she
was! Crackey but did n't we have a time Ben
'n' mehself 'n' the young un. She was mad at Ben
because he did n't make money faster; 'n' at last
he went out West with a man to set up a cattle
ranch. An' he had n't been gone a week 'fore,
one night, I got home from selling' my papers,
VOL. XIII.-47.

'n' the rooms wus locked up 'n' empty, 'n' the
woman o' the house, she told me Minna 'd gone
- shown a clean pair o' heels. Some un else said
she 'd gone across the water to be nuss to a lady
as had a little baby, too. Never heard a word of
her since nuther has Ben. If I 'd ha' bin him, I
would n't ha' fretted a bit 'n' I guess he did n't.
But he thought a heap o' her at the start. Tell
you, he was spoons on her. She was a daisy-
lookin' gal, too, when she was dressed up, 'n' not
mad. She 'd big black eyes 'n' black hair down to
her knees; she 'd make it into a rope as big as
your arm, and twist it 'round 'n' 'round her head;
'n' I tell you her eyes 'd snap Folks used to say
she was part Itali-un- said her mother or father
'd come from there, 'n' it made her queer. I tell
ye, she was one of'em-she was "
He often told Mr. Hobbs stories of her and of
his brother Ben, who, since his going out West,
had written once or twice to Dick. Ben's luck had
not been good, and he had wandered from place to
place; but at last he had settled on a ranch in
California, where he was at work at the time when
Dick became acquainted with Mr. Hobbs.
That gal," said Dick one day, she took all
the grit out o' him. I could n't help feeling' sorry
for him sometimes."
They were sitting in the store door-way together,
and Mr. Hobbs was filling his pipe.
"He ought n't to 've married," he said sol-
emnly, as he rose to get a match. Women-I
never could see any use in 'em, myself."
As he took the match from its box, he stopped
and looked down on the counter.
"Why he said, if here is n't a letter! I
did n't see it before. The postman must have
laid it down when I was n't noticin', or the news-
paper slipped over it."
He picked it up and looked at it carefully.
It 's from him / he exclaimed. That 's
the very one it 's from "
He forgot his pipe altogether. He went back
to his chair quite excited and took his pocket-knife
and opened the envelope.
I wonder what news there is this time, he
And then he unfolded the letter and read as
" My dear Mr Hobbs
"i write this in a great hury because i have something curious to tell
you i know you will be very much surprised my dear friend when i
tel vou. It is all a mistake and i am not a lord and i shall nothave
to be an earl there is a lady which was marid to my uncle bevis who
is dead and she has a little boy and he is lord fauntleroy because
that is the way it isin England the earls eldest sons little boy is the
earl if every body else is dead i mean i his farther and grandfather
are dead my grandfarthcr is not dead but my uncle bevis is and so
his boy is lord Fauntleroy and I am not because my papa was the



youngest son and my name is Cedric Errol like it was when I was in
New York and all the things will belong to the other boy i thought
at first i should have to give him my pony and cast but my grand-
farther says i need not my grandflrther is very sorry andi think Ihe
does not like the lady but preaps he thinks dearest and i are sorny
because i shall not be an earl i would like to be an earl now better
than i thouti would at first because this is a beautifle castle and i like
every body so and when you are rich you can do so many things i
am not rich now because when your papa is only the youngest son he
is not very rich i am going to learn to work so that I can take care
of dearest i have been asking Wilkins about grooming horses preaps
i might be a groom or a coachman, the lady brought her little boy to
the castle and my grandfather and Mr. Havisham talked to her i
think she was angry she talked loud and my grandfather was angry
too never saw him angry before i wish it did not make them all
mad i thort i would tell you and Dick right away because you would
be intrusted so no more at present with love from
your old friend CEDRIC ERROL (Not lord Fauntleroy)."
Mr. Hobbs fell back in his chair, the letter
dropped on his knee, his penknife slipped to the
floor, and so did the envelope.
"Well "he ejaculated, I am jiggered "
He was so dumbfounded that he actually
changed his exclamation. It had always been his
habit to say, I will be jiggered," but this time
he said, I am jiggered." Perhaps he really was
jiggered. There is no knowing.
"Well," said Dick, the whole thing's bust up,
has n't it ?"
Bust! said Mr. Hobbs. It's my opinion
it's all a put-up job o' the British 'ristycrats to

rob him of his rights because he's an American.
They 've had a spite agin us ever since the Revo-
lution, an' they 're takin' it out on him. I told you
he was n't safe, an' see what 's happened Like
as not, the whole government's got together to rob
him of his lawful ownin's."
He was very much agitated. He had not ap-
proved of the change in his young friend's circum-
stances at first, but lately he had become more
reconciled to it, and after the receipt of Cedric's
letter he had perhaps even felt some secret pride
in his young friend's magnificence. He might not
have a good opinion of earls, but he knew that
even in America money was considered rather an
agreeable thing, and if all the wealth and gran-
deur were to go with the title, it must be rather
hard to lose it.
They're trying to rob him! he said, "that's
what they 're doing, and folks that have money
ought to look after him."
And he kept Dick with him until quite a late
hour to talk it over, and when that young man
left, he went with him to the corner of the street;
and on his way back he stopped opposite the
empty house fur some time, staring at the To
Let," and smoking his pipe, in much disturbance
of mind.

(To be continued.)

a> -





1886.] A ROYAL FISH.



WHEN tlh. H-.i,.-.:,n
firstseen I-, .r. j,.: i..1! ,
by his in , :. i.... i "

\ L vas
... lier
ri ure-

head of rti.: L,,...:i.-i ,p I .:. .-. d e
Vrouw, t!h.:i ... : ..i.e .:. in
the w at.: i l.., ti. ,...: -ild
grapes about the Indian wigwams
which stood where New York City
stands to-day. That was a few years after the redis-
covery of the river by Henry Hudson in 1609.* But,
in course of time, the salmon went the way of the
Indians. The last native Hudson River salmon
was caught in a net in New York bay about 1844;
but, more recently, attempts have been made arti-
ficially to stock that river and others with this
fish, and within two years a few have been caught,
the only salmon taken from the Hudson in forty
years.f When St. Nicholas made his first visit
Verrazani, a Florentine navigator, is now believed to have been
the original discoverer of the Hudson, about 1525.
t About three hundred thousand salmon fry have been planted in
the upper waters of the Hudson each year, since 1882. In 1884, a
salmon weighing four pounds was taken near Hudson, New York,
and several yearling salmon were caught, a year ago, in a stream
tributary to the Hudson. Last spring, a salmon weighing ten
pounds was taken in Gravesend Bay, and there have been other
similar results from the work done by Mr. Fred Mather, Superin-
tendent of the New York Fish Commission, in charge of the station
at Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island. It is thought that the Hud-
son was never much frequented by salmon for the purpose of spawn-
ing, on account of Cohoes'and Miller's Falls. But the fish were

to our shores, there were salmon in every river
along the Atlantic coast, north of the Delaware.
But, as fishermen became numerous, as dams
were built across the rivers, and as the water
was made impure by town and city drainage, the
salmon were driven northward, just as the Indians
were driven westward. The salmon were forced
to leave the Connecticut-another river into which
there has been hope of introducing them again; they
left the Merrimac when it was given over to manu-
factories; and now few salmon are to be found
south of the rivers of eastern Maine. Beyond, they
visit the rivers of the British Provinces, Labrador,
the Hudson Bay country, and even Greenland,- for
one variety of salmon is a fearless Arctic explorer,
and penetrates the Arctic Circle. The salmon is
as much at home in Iceland and Norway as in Eng-
land, Scotland, and Ireland. On the north-western
American coast, from northern California, Oregon,
and Washington, to Alaska and beyond, there have
always been vast numbers of this wonderful fish.
I say wonderful, because the salmon is the king
of all game fishes, and because he goes under so
many names, and has habits so curious that he
has puzzled naturalists for hundreds of years. And
his pink flesh is so prized that the salmon fisheries
on this continent alone yield millions of dollars
every year.
The gamy qualities of the salmon, which cause
the fly-fisherman to rate him above all other fishes,
are his enduring strength and his great activity.
The salmon and the blue-fish are the strongest
game fishes known, and the former reaches a far
larger size than the latter. According to one
writer, the salmon and the sword-fish are the
fastest swimmers of all the forked-tail fishes."
Only a fast running-horse could outstrip a sal-
mon; for it is estimated that the salmon swims
a mile in less than two minutes. But the horse
would be left behind in a long race, for the
fish can cover thirty miles in an hour. When
leisurely ascending rivers, with frequent rests in
formerly taken near the mouth of the river, and it is hoped that the
entire river may be made a salmon stream, if it will grow salmon,"
by the construction of fish-ways which will enable the salmon to
ascend the falls. Professor Baird, the United States Commissioner
of Fish and Fisheries, restocked the Connecticut, where no salmon
had been for twenty-five years, with such success that "Connecticut
River salmon" were regularly quoted in the markets. But the
fishermen caught out the spawning fish and foolishly depopulated
the river so that the work was stopped, although I understand that
another effort has been made recently. In the Penobscot River, in
Maine, salmon have been hatched and cared for, until, this very
season, there has been excellent salmon fishing in the neighbor-
hood of the city of Bangor.- R. H.




attractive pools, the salmon av-
erages from fifteen to twenty-
five miles a day. In leaping,
the salmon can easily beat the
horse, for salmon have leaped
up waterfalls twelve feet high.
It was formerly supposed that
the salmon, when about to
jump, bent himself double,
and took his tail in his mouth,
so that he was like an elastic
bow drawn tight. Then it was
thought that he suddenly let
go, his tail striking the water
with great force, and away he
went through the air. But
now we know that the salmon
prepares for a leap just as a
boy does, with a short, sharp
run. If the water at the foot
of the dam or fail is not deep
enough to allow this prepara-
tory run, the salmon can not
jump. If there is water
enough, he starts from the
bottom, his powerful tail work-
ing as rapidly as the propeller-
screw of a steamship. Aided
by the pectoral fins, the up-
ward movement grows quicker
and quicker, until with a last
muscular effort the salmon
shoots from the water, his tail
still vibrating for an instant,
then becoming motionless, as
the fish curves through the
air and comes down above
C the obstacle. If a dam be
S built so high as to be impas-
S sable, the salmon will leave
) the river altogether, for in-
stinct always leads them to
the head-waters, where they
lay their eggs. So fish-ladders
and fish-ways of various kinds
S', have been invented to help
L-.i salmon and other fishes to sur-
mount natural or artificial bar-
Sriers. Fish-ladders have been
constructed by the aid of which
S salmon ascend falls over thirty
feet high. As soon as salmon
Senter rivers on their way from
Sthe sea they begin to jump,
like a crowd of boys just let
out of school. Standing on
the shore of a sahnon river in

June or July, you will every now and then see the
fish leap four or five feet out of water, glistening
like polished silver, then curving over and fall-
ing with a heavy splash. Or sometimes their
back fins will roll lazily out of the water, and you
will be reminded of a school of porpoises. But
there is nothing lazy about the salmon when once
he is hooked. If there is a twenty-five pound sal-
mon at the end of your line, jumping nearly as
high as your head in his struggles to rid himself
of the hook, you will be sure to think of nothing
except that fish.
But before the salmon reaches a weight of
twenty-five pounds, he appears in so many and so
different forms that very wise men have been
unable to recognize him. When the salmon is
just hatched, he is known as fry, or fingerling.
Then he becomes a parr, or samlet, also called
pink, or brandling, on some foreign rivers. The
parr changes to a smolt, the smolt to a grilse, and
the grilse finally develops into the salmon. The
latter, when running fresh from the sea, are called
white salmon, and when they are descending
rivers after spawning, they are termed kelts, or
black salmon. Other names given to salmon after
spawning-time are kippers and baggits, or shed-
ders. So the salmon, like the royal fish that he
is, has as many names as a prince of one of the
royal families of Europe. The alevin, or baby
salmon, is hatched in from thirty to one hundred
days after the eggs are laid in furrows in gravelly
beds which are scooped out by the parent fish,
near the head-waters of cold, clear rivers. Pres-
ently the alevin grows into the fry, or pink, which
is an absurd little fish about an inch long, goggle-
eyed, and with dark bars on its sides. When some
three months old, the fry makes a change like
that of a chrysalis into a butterfly. It becomes
a shapely little fish with a forked tail, and brilliance
carmine spots shine out on its sides. Its back is
of a dark slaty color, and the bars are less strongly

marked as
the parr
grows old- -
er. The
greediest of
trout is not

- 3

i -'

more hun- // -
gry and act- '
ive. I have SALMON FLIES.
often seen
a dozen tiny parr jump from the water at my flies.
Once, when coming down the Restigouche in a
canoe, with our rods laid aside, and the flies dan-
gling just over the water, two parr leaped together
and hooked themselves, although they were hardly
four inches long. These pretty little fishes, which


x886.] A ROYAL FISH.

one might readily mistake for trout, were once sup-
posed to belong to a species entirely distinct from
the salmon. Naturalists were also puzzled by find-
ing that some parr remain for nearly three years in
fresh water. So they concluded that these latter
parr never went to sea at all, and considered them
a species by themselves, which they called Salimo
samulus. But nature was finally seen to be wiser than
the naturalists. Nature has decreed that only half
the parr hatched in a given winter shall go down
to the sea at one time, and in this way protects
the race from the chance of wholesale destruction.
So we are now told that some of the parr develop
more rapidly than others, and migrate to the sea in
their second spring, while others remain in the river
a year longer, and i.-.,: .i :1~1 .r l,. l .
W hen the tim e t. I ,,.i..i . .I .l ..I .:,
the parr, which

nas DI
The c
fade o

beautiful grilse. The grilse is more slender than
the salmon, the tail more forked, the scales more
easily removed, and the top of the head and of
the fins is not quite so black. But the grilse's
sheeny, satiny sides are even more brilliant than
the salmon's, and it is more playful and active,
although its strength is less enduring. After the
grilse has frolicked its way to the head of the
river and spawned, it returns to the sea. When

X 'P-v A
.--t4 d.

cen steadily .---.---,--- -
1n plumper. --..- '
g ... -^-- -. "'
. .'ln,;. . hfl

/"" --- ~ '" .. .r *-_ '- "r.i...r I. 1.i v t a

., .'. : .... : 1 .11 k r... r 'na b.. . rii ...I. i m on, after
', *._:, i.j i i i'. c'. r,: ii l i e in tI.ec
S" 'l' I, ..: ":irl; l .r..--"'h .;r i il.- r' :'; i.. rh. I. ie they get

S i-. i. '. .:. r .- :i ,r [piri'. lil:t I. e become e
although the attached to their sides, and where their scales are
-- .- .t .. t -,t I ,:...,ne a full-

11.LLI r- o': I, a 1,.. 11. 1 sto od. It

although the attached to their sides, ad where heLir scales are

A FISH-LADDER AROUND A DAM. scales can easily
be rubbed away.
At this period the young salmon is called a smolt,
and the smolt was also a riddle to wise men, for
a long time. It was thought that smolts which
went down to the sea weighing three or four
ounces, returned to the rivers in three months
weighing six or eight pounds. Of course, such
a gain as this was a very wonderful, indeed an
unequaled performance, like the "swellin' wisibly"
of the Fat Boy in the "Pickwick Papers." It is
now believed, however, that the smolt requires a
year or fifteen months at sea for this great gain
in weight. Then he returns to his native river,
no longer an insignificant smolt, but a vigorous,

hardened by a diet of small fish; but where in
the sea salmon go, no one knows. After leaving
the coast, they disappear. They have been found
in very deep water hundreds of miles from any
salmon river; but their marine feeding-grounds
are still undiscovered. In the spring they sud-
denly re-appear at the mouths of rivers, where they
linger to free themselves from marine parasites.
While in salt water, they will never jump at a fly;
but as soon as they enter the fresh water of the
Canadian rivers, in June, the waiting Indians and
fishermen see them rising freely out of the water.
Yet much .of this leaping is. plainly only for sport,
and many people claim that salmon actually eat
nothing at all during the time that they are going




-.- -: : i':i;,: '),, -
. ,"',, -i i

I -

and rapids. In almost every pool, during the day- England a

time in summer, there are salmon resting from the former
4 ".- --- _:- -.% _- :.'--. ', ;' '' '

the labor of stemming the current. It is said that forty-pound
at night they are often to be found on the bars in province of
and rapids. In almost every pool, during the day- England a

river stimulates them into a rapid
movement upward. When they de-
scend rivers, they fall back much
of the way tail foremost, although
the distance may be over a hundred
miles. Even a salmon can be
drowned in swiftly running water.
Often they make short runs down
river, but they quickly wheel about
and usually lie with their heads to
the current. When they are de-
scending, they are thin and rav-
enous; but they rapidly gain in
plumpness after reaching the sea.
In weight the salmon of the Cana-
dian rivers average between twenty
and twenty-five pounds. I suppose
a season's catch would hardly aver-
Sin twenty pounds, for it would include
of from eight to ten pounds weight,
weighing only five or six pounds more.
,md salmon is very large, and a forty-
,ill be talked of throughout the season,
i said that salmon weighing fifty pounds
:aught in the Restigouche,--one, in-
aid to weigh fifty-four pounds. The
ouise, the daughter of the Queen of
nd the wife of the Marquis of Lorne,
Governor-general of Canada, caught a
- salmon in the Causapscal river, in the
f Quebec, a few years ago. Last sum-

,-,,._, i ,:, I- ',., ,: ,ne of
sir, she was a good un with the rod." who
S- ,~., I. I, .,..cessat
-L-.. ..rh.. ia-,,I,. had a

n a ,ul[ Likt. I U [ laid b u L J- I i incess,
sir, she was a good un with the rod." Salmon
the shallow rapids above the pools. If the water weighing sixty pounds are taken now and then in
is low they ascend very slowly, but any rise in the Scotch rivers, and a few rivers in England still




yield large fish. Sir John Hawkins speaks of a sal-
mon caught in an English river in April, 1789,
which was four feet long, three feet around the
body, and weighed seventy pounds. There is a
story told of a Highlander who hooked a salmon

FISH. 743

an ax, but when I visited the valley of the Puyal-
lup River, in Washington Territory, three years
ago, I was assured that salmon sometimes crowded
that shallow stream so thickly that farmers lifted
them out with pitchforks and used them as fertilizers


in the River Awe, and played the fish for hours,
until night came on without his being able to tire
it out. Then, as the fish was sulking quietly at the
bottom, he lay down, took the line in his teeth,
that any motion might waken him, and went to
sleep. The Highlander slept and the salmon
sulked until three o'clock in the morning, when
some friends of the former came to look for him.
With their help he managed to land the fish about
daybreak, and it weighed seventy-three pounds.
That was certainly a giant, but a salmon weighing
eighty-three pounds is reported once to have been
sent to the London market. It would be a serious
matter for any of ST. NICHOLAS'S readers to make
fast to a salmon as large as that. But it will not
happen on this side of the ocean.
There is only one way in which a true sports-
man will catch a salmon, and that is by fly-fishing.
But there are a great many other ways, some of
which, although unfair, are rather curious. Salmon
have been caught with an ax, with a pitchfork,
with a wheel, with many forms of nets and spears,
by trolling, and by still-bait fishing. Captain
Charles Kendall, an old Boston sailor, used to say
that he once explored a Canadian salmon river
nearly to its head and met a multitude of salmon
coming down in water so shallow that their backs
were exposed, and he killed scores with an ax, as
they tried to rush between his legs. The poor
fishes were also attacked by birds of prey. This is
the only instance recorded of killing salmon with

on the field. These, however, were an inferior
kind of salmon. One of the most cruel and de-
structive methods of catching salmon was by water-
wheels, at the cascades of the Columbia River. In
former times, the Indians gathered at the cascades
at certain seasons, picketed their ponies, built wig-
wams, and remained for days, and often weeks,
spearing and netting the ascending salmon all
along the shores. But white men found a way of
destroying a far larger number of these noble fish.
Salmon when coming up the rapids swim near
shore. Wheels were built, and suspended partly
in the water so that the paddles were rapidly turned
by the swift current. The salmon swimming
against these paddles were struck with great force,
lifted clear of the water, and thrown into tanks ar-
ranged near by. The murderous wheels kept on
revolving, throwing up every fish within reach,
and there was nothing for the owners to do but to
gather the quantities of salmon out of the tanks
and use them in their salmon-canning establish-
ment. It is not strange that a strong popular feel-
ing soon grew up against this wholesale slaughter.
At the mouth of the same. river, the Columbia,
net-fishing for salmon is carried on in a larger way
than anywhere else on this continent. In the
fisheries and canneries nearly seven thousand men
are employed- Swedes, Russians, Norwegians,
Finns, Italians, Portuguese, Greeks, and Chinamen,
a curious mingling of races. Much of this net-fish-
ing is done at night, the sail boats starting from


Astoria toward evening and returning in the morn- Nearly all these rivers are watched by two sets of
ing. Sometimes the capsized boats drift ashore wardens. There are the Government wardens ap-
alone, for the breakers where the currents of river pointed to prevent illegal fishing with nets or
and ocean meet frequently swamp them, and each spears, or out of season, and there are wardens
season many men are drowned. Between three employed by private persons to watch the water
and four million dollars' worth of salmon have been which they lease; for every pool in a salmon
sent from the Columbia in a year. In the North- river is valuable property. Once the Government
east a great many salmon are caught in nets at the claimed the fishing privileges, but it was decided
mouths of the St. Lawrence and other Canadian that the owners of lands along the rivers controlled
rivers, many more indeed than anglers would allow the water; and now the farmer's income from his
if they could control the net-fishing. Most of water is sometimes larger than that from his land;
these salmon are artificially frozen and sent to our and the limits of each ownership are as carefully
Eastern markets, where they now have to compete marked off as are limits of farms or of town lots.
with Oregon salmon. Spearing salmon is very prop- The unlawful act which the wardens most care-
erly forbidden by law in Canada. I have read an fully guard against is drifting." One or two
account of an odd method of harpooning salmon, poachers will steal out at night carrying a peculi-
which was practiced on a river in the Inverness arly made net in their canoes. They stretch this
district in Scotland. At one spot the river falls across the head of a pool; and it is so weighted
in a cascade through a narrow cleft in the rocks, and buoyed that it stands upright, reaching nearly
Sitting beside this, the fisherman, who had a line to the bottom. As the current causes the net
attached to his spear, struck a salmon as it tried to drift down stream, one canoe stays at each
to leap up, let go his spear, keeping hold of the end to keep it straight. There is usually a white
line, and then, climbing down to the pool below, rope at the bottom of the net. Seeing this, the sal-
drew in the exhausted fish at his leisure. This mon raise themselves a little, only to be caught by
reminded me of an Indian on the Restigouche, the gills in the meshes. When the shaking of the
who, I was told, used to throw his short spruce net shows that one is caught, the poacher quickly
pole into the water after hooking a salmon, and paddles to the spot, raises the net, kills the fish
paddle after it in his canoe, until the fish was so with a blow on its head, and throws it into the
wearied by dragging the pole about, that the fish- canoe. In this sneaking way, nearly all the salmon
erman could easily land it. Still more curious is in a pool may be netted out in a night. If the
Sir Walter Scott's account in his novel, "Red wardens happen to come along in their dug-outs,
Gauntlet," of salmon-spearing on the Solway they try to seize the net and identify the poachers.
Frith, an arm of the sea between England and Then there may be a fight, and perhaps a canoe
Scotland. He describes a company of horsemen will be sunk, and a poacher or a warden will get a
riding over the sands and striking with their spears cold bath. On one river, the poachers used to
at the salmon which darted about in the pools, station a boy on an island below them, with a horn
where they had been left by the ebbing tide. This which he blew whenever the wardens approached.
kind of salmon- One of the latter
fishing on horse- was so active that
back must have -- -- -the poachers re-
been very like "_ -- _- =-a= solved to punish
"pig-sticking" in _..--- -- - him. They took
India. -- -- - an old worthless
On this side of -- net and stretched
the ocean, trolling it out into the river
for salmon is un- from a rock on the
known; there is -. bank. A rope was
very little, if any, 7---I_ .'. .;- -_r _-- rove through the
bait-fishing, and -net and the shore
a salmon-spear, in end made fast
the North-east at over a pulley to
least, is only to the traces of a
be found in the A SALMON RISING TO THE FLY. horse. A boy
hands of a red or stood beside the
white poacher. Poaching on Canadian rivers has horse, and two poachers in a canoe held the outer
diminished, but the law is still broken on the sly; end of the net. Down came the warden, poling
and many odd stories are told of poachers' tricks. along in his dug-out, and pulled the end of the



net away from the seemingly unwilling poachers.
He began taking it into his dug-out, congratu-
lating himself on his prize, and had hauled it half-
way in, when the boy on shore struck the horse,
which started on a full gallop up the bank, jerking
the net after it. In a flash the net was pulled
out of the dug-out, the latter upset, and the aston-
ished warden pitched into the river. But I hope
the poachers were punished in their turn. For if
these lawless men had their way, there would be
no salmon left in the rivers, and no such glorious
sport as fly-fishing.
It is for this that hundreds of Americans go
away down East every summer. At the junction
of the Metapedia and Restigouche rivers are the
comfortable buildings of the Restigouche Salmon

--- -_
---- _

i .i. . r.:. T : GREAT FISH LEAPS FOUR
: bii. .i ,i ...- ,.i....-.i 1 .:. New York gentlemen.
In tr...r .- i Ii .i i ,-ii- r he finest pool on the
ri.,,:r i,. I.: .. 1,.1 ... ,.: !!d and water for som e
Id..-. :_.k..,.: i._._. I, : i. : pools are leased by
'i si..ll ._-,- i r." ,.1 .*:I.Il-i. il.1 Am ericans pay thou-
-:i_ l..- I i ...*.' 1. :.a ti .... i- privilegeses on rivers all
1.:- . I!i, I N.-. i -:.:.:.i r:. Labrador. Some of
'In., b... i, :d r -., i :. -i......mpanied their fathers
.:.r i. ; Li...!'r:r: ..- Ir.~ i ..i salm on rivers, and
th-.- .-i .:- *n,:l.:. 1 .i-..n. If not, I hope they
may do so boon.
For this fishing, a boy should use a rod not over
sixteen feet long, and weighing about twenty-seven
ounces. Split bamboo is the finest material, but
satisfactory rods are made of ash and lancewood or
greenheart. The heavy reel holds a hundred or a
hundred and fifty yards of braided silk line. Usu-
ally a gut leader, also called a casting-line, which
is about nine feet long, is fastened directly to the
silk line. Onlyoneofthe large gaudysalmon flies is
used on the leader at one time. Suppose yourself
thus equipped, sitting in the middle of a cranky
birch-bark canoe, on the Restigouche, with an In-
dian at the bow and another at the stern, paddling
to the head of a salmon pool, as the morning mists
rise from the mountains. Just below the rapids, the
Indians turn the canoe into midstream and drop
the anchor, which clinks musically upon the stones
of the bottom. You take up the rod, which will



e -7-, .
_ -'


seem awkward if you have been using a seven or
eight ounce trout-rod, and holding it in both hands,
one above and one below the reel, begin to make
short casts in front and on either side. It is always
well to whip the water near the canoe, for there is
no telling where a salmon may be. Once I looked
down over the side of my canoe into the very eyes
of a large salmon. He lay at the bottom, looking
up at me for a moment, then flirted his tail scorn-
fully and disappeared. I should like to have seen
more of him. You will lengthen out the line a
few feet at a time, as you continue casting, and
you will always keep the point of your rod moving
a little up and down, so that your fly shall be
in motion in the water. Possibly the longed-for
salmon will jump out of water at the fly. If so,
he will probably miss it. More likely, you will sud-
denly see a mighty swirl in the water, catch a
glimpse of a head, perhaps, and feel a tug at
least you are likely to, if you "strike" when you
see the swirl.
Then all in the same instant the reel begins
to scream and your heart to beat like a trip-
hammer. Up comes the anchor, the Indians
paddle over to one side of the river, and you
manfully keep the rod pointing upward, clutch-
ing it with your left hand above the reel, the
end of the butt pressed against your waistcoat
buttons, and your right hand ready to reel in
line if the fish comes toward you or sulks at the
All at once something happens which takes
away your breath. Right before your eyes the
great fish leaps four feet from the water, his writh-
ing body curved like a silver bow, and glistening
in the sunlight until he falls back with a splash that
almost makes your heart stop beating, for fear he has
broken loose. But no! You instinctively lowered
the tip of your rod when he jumped, and he did
not fall upon a taut line, as he hoped, and break

away. The reel screams again as the salmon darts
off down river; and as the canoe-men paddle after,
you think of the Indian who lassoed the locomo-
tive. Perhaps he will rush through the lower
rapids into the pool below. Never fear! He is
well hooked, and the strain of the rod is telling.
Backward and forward he darts, while the line cuts
the water, now sulking quietly, again startling you
by a wild leap. At last he begins to yield. The
canoe-men paddle you to a beach where you cau-
tiously step out, keeping your face to the foe.
Slowly, carefully you reel in line, straining the fish
toward you. The Indians wait with the gaff, a
large steel hook in the end of a stout pole. Now
the salmon makes a despairing run, then, growing
weaker, he obeys your strain. You can see him
plainly as he comes into shallow water. What if
you should lose him now! The Indians, bent dou-
ble, ankle-deep in water, watch his every motion.
One strikes at him, but misses, and the gallant fish
makes another fight for life. But now he is within
reach. The gaff is raised carefully, you hold your
breath, and this time the steel pierces that silvery
side, and out of the foaming water the gaff draws a
noble salmon, your first-and let me hope a forty-
pounder. Perhaps twenty minutes have passed
since you hooked him,-perhaps an hour; but you
have lived an age.
May all the boy readers of ST. NICHOLAS some
time know such thrilling sport as this! And the
girls, too, may emulate their brothers, and each
some time land a salmon. At least they can have
the sport without holding the rod. One of the pret-
tiest sights which I saw on the Restigouche was
the eager face of a little girl in a canoe, with her
father, who was fighting a twenty-five-pound
salmon. Looking at her parted lips and wide-
open eyes, I felt sure that girls as well as boys
could feel the fascination of that most exciting of
all forms of angling, salmon-fishing.





- [ *I- K. 4 .. .

THE brown owl sat on the car- Off went the owl like a thistle-down puff,
--' away tree, Ruffled-up, rolled in a ball!
A ruffed-up, great big owl. Off went the bat like a candle-snuff,
Who so learned and wise as he ? Shuffled-up, toes and all!
A puffed-up, eminent fowl. Off went the twig and off went the tree,
The black bat hung by a twig Scurrying down to the ground !
of the tree, Nothing was left, save the bumble-bee,
SA blinking, blind old bat. Worrying thus to be found;
I And buzzing anear was Yet snug as a bug in the roots of the tree,

Crinkling, yellow, and fat. I was simply thunder-struck !" said he.
And I 'm very sure I prefer the glare
Ho said the owl, but Of the hottest day to that whirling air
S the sun is so bright, Such adraught I hope I have not caught cold
/ So torrid, blazing away !" But I know I was over and over rolled.
Oh," said the bat, "for Am I really safe and sound?"
the shades of night,
; This horrid dazzling day!"
Psho said the bee. -
If that is all,
SBlundery, blind old bat, -t. -
Yonder 's a cloud coming up
S at your call,-
Thundery,- black as a hat." -

"Ah cried the bat and the

Bring us some fine dark thunder weather,
Rumbling fierce and loud! "
Up came the cloud, flying far and wide,
Wizardly weird and strong,-
Brisk little hurricane sitting inside,
Blizzardly bowling along.





S KING HUBERT, he went to the forest in state,
In glitter and gold, on a sun-shiny day,
And commanded his train in the shadow to wait,
-;- While a herald proclaimed in the following way:
His Imperial Majesty, Hubert the Second,
Since the nightingale's voice is quite musical reckoned,
Is graciously pleased, as the day seems too long,
To command that the nightingale sing him a song "

The court all stood waiting for what might befall;
But somehow, no nightingale answered the call.







FOR two days following that bright morning in
September, the skies dropped discouragement on
all enthusiasm, and dampened any ardor for ag-
gressive change. What feminine heart has the
courage to go forth gloriously to conquer or to
die in overshoes and a gossamer ?
In the meantime, the girls had not met again,
but new thoughts sprouted in their brains, while
feeble plans budded and dropped unfruitful from
the bough.
Nan lighted a fire in the grate in her room, and
re-read and burned package upon package of old
letters, tossing away with special vigor all those
tied with that badge of sentimental girlhood-a
blue ribbon. Why always blue?
There she exclaimed, as the last mouse-
colored fragment fluttered up the chimney; there
is nothing like beginning again at the foundation,
in every way."
This heroic sacrifice completed, she sewed on
some loose shoe-buttons with as much vigor as
though she contemplated setting out on foot to
seek her fortune. After that, she pressed her fore-
head against the window-pane, and wished drearily
that it would stop raining.
Evelyn, after an hour's interview with her
mother, began to rip up an old dress, though she
was evidently busied also with serious thoughts.
Cathy, left to herself, and without the stimulat-
ing influence of her friends, decided with placid
regret that there was no way to improve her ex-
istence; she felt like the man who tried to lift him-
self over the fence by pulling at his boot-straps.
Bert shut herself up and wrestled with a long
column of very symmetrical figures. The result
of the addition seemed to dismay her. She
clutched her bang with one hand, while she care-
fully went over the list again.
Bert had lain awake hours and hours the night
before, rehearsing the various parts she might
assume as a lady-like peddler of different wares to
a paying public ; but she surveyed her small pack
of accomplishments with the sad conviction that
she "had n't a faculty that anybody would give two
cents for." If some one would kindly hire me to
read all the new novels, or should desire my serv-
ices as assistant hostess at endless dinners and
luncheons, I think I might command quite a
salary," sighed she, knowing well her own self-

poise and general success in those unremunerative
Or, there is my other little stock-in-trade," she
continued with disconsolate amusement-" writ-
ing letters! I do think I can write a letter."
And she could, because she always wrote with
the keen mental enjoyment of exercising her own
fluent powers of expression. But," she reflected,
" who is going to pay my dress-maker for the intense
pleasure of being allowed to receive my epistles ?
No, letter-writing has n't any market value But
-but has n't it?"
Ah, now she was really thinking For she sat
motionless, with raised eyebrows and parted lips;
then she started to her feet, walked excitedly up and
down her room a few times, surveyed herself in the
glass, and laughed and chuckled in a mysterious
way as she put on her overshoes and hoisted her
Mr. Mitchell was a very busy man too busy to
know his daughter very well; and, as is far too
common with busy men, he regarded a girl as an
entirely useless, rather expensive but withal pleas-
ant factor of his establishment. So, as may be
imagined, he was somewhat surprised as he sat
in his private office on that particular drizzly day,
hurriedly writing a business letter, .when Bert,
bright and emphatic, suddenly appeared.
Her father, without stopping his rapid pen,
looked up, between sentences, long enough to say
with good-natured bewilderment, Why, Bert,
what has brought you here ? Do you need some
more money?"
Bert flushed at that question. Some thoughts
with which she had been exercising her mind had
made it a trifle sore; and in the mood occa-
sioned by those thoughts, her father's evident
surprise at her appearance, his slight emphasis on
" here," and his seemingly natural conclusion as
to the cause of the phenomenon, rather hurt her
Money?" she said, with some heat, No, sir !
Do you regard me as only a creature with an all-
devouring greed for gold ?"
Then, laughing pleasantly as she deposited her
umbrella in the rack, she added, No, Papa
dear, notjjust now. I thought you would be going
home soon and I 'd like to walk up with you."
Mr. Mitchell paused a moment, in the act of
clapping on another stamp, to survey his tall
daughter through his eye-glasses.


Eh That's good. I can't go for half an hour eye the effect of a rug on the floor, looked up and
though-six or seven more letters to write." remarked, What a lot of letters "
He said this a little wearily, and proceeded to Yes," answered her father with a sigh, since
date another sheet of paper, running his left hand Nelson went I have had my hands full. It is hard
through his thin hair, as though he had already to fill his place."
forgotten his daughter's presence in the absorbing Why? asked Bert, with interest.
nature of his relations with Messrs. Hutton, Because," said Mr. Mitchell slowly, good
Wells & Co." stenographers do not grow on every bush ; and it
Bert sat down in an office chair and looked is difficult to find any one to whom I can intrust
about her. Not that she had never been in my private correspondence."
her father's office before, but never before had He took his coat from the hook and slowly put


she looked at it with the same mental vision it on his shoulders, while Bert sat still, looking

that now surveyed the dingy windows, dusty
writing-desk, and generally unkempt and dismal
aspect of the place where her father spent so much
of his life.
Dear me," she thought, how soon I could
brighten up things I wonder if he would like it
if I should try ? "
Presently Mr. Mitchell collected a heap of letters.
shut up his inkstand, and wheeled his chair slowly

very lugubrious.
Oh," she said slowly, would your amanuen-
sis have to know short-hand? "
Of course," her father replied, looking some-
what surprised at the unusual interest in such
affairs exhibited by his brilliant daughter, of whom
he had perhaps been rather more proud than fond.
"You see," he continued, "I might as well
write them myself as wait for him to write out my

about, as he carefully counted them over. dictation in long hand."
Bert, who had been contemplating in her mind's Mr. Mitchell stepped into the general office to



i `-


give a direction to one of the many clerks, all
of whom were getting their hats with great prompt-
ness as the minute-hand neared six.
Bert sat looking thoughtfully at a fantastic cob-
web in the corner.
When her father returned and asked her if she
were ready to start, she still did not offer to stir;
but, planting her umbrella firmly on the floor, she
said in a very serious voice, but with a gleam in her
eyes :
Sir, I called strictly on business. Hearing
that your confidential clerk had gone South be-
cause of weak lungs, I cqme to apply-pray
take a seat, sir; you seem about to faint- to
apply for the place."
Mr. Mitchell sat down.
"To be frank, sir, I must own that I am not
thoroughly conversant with short-hand, but I
should immediately go to work to perfect my knowl-
edge, and in the meantime I should endeavor to
be of valuable assistance to you."
By this time, the senior member of the firm
looked so helplessly confused that Bert began to
laugh, breaking down utterly in her commercial
tone of voice. Then she added in a rush of words,
as she made a dash at her father and clasped her
hands behind his neck: Oh, do let me, Papa !
-I 'd be very confidential, and I 'm just wild to
earn some money "
At this last remark, the astounded man probably
would have gasped, had not his daughter prevented
such an expression by a kiss.
You poor dazed man she laughed. Now
please sit down, and it will take me just two min-
utes to explain my strange conduct; you will ac-
cept me as your helper in one second more; and
then I shall commit my first act of indiscretion
as your clerk, by walking home arm-in-arm with
my employer."
By this time Mr. Mitchell had risen equal to the
joke, as he still considered the entire comedy, and
demanded references as to her epistolary ability.
Bert at once deafened him with an avalanche of
names; but she immediately grew serious again,
and began to explain frankly her new thoughts and
Of course she was met by the usual discour-
agements with which the masculine mind teems,
but she silenced them all by an earnest request for
the privilege of a trial, like any other applicant for
a clerkship.
At last, after much talking and earnest argu-
ments, it was finally settled as they walked home
under one umbrella, with a strange new sense of
comradeship, that Bert should present herself at
her father's office next morning in time for the
opening of the mail.


" 'So LET the wide world wag as it will,
I 'll be gay and happy still,
Gay and happy,
Gay and hap '"

No doubt of it, Nan! called Bert from
the foot of the Ferrises' stairs, early next morn-
Nan suddenly ceased expressing her intentions
in song, and appeared leaning over the balustrade,
with a blue veil tied over her head, waving a dust-
cloth. When she saw that it was Bert, who had
interrupted her strain of melody, she proceeded to
finish the verse, ignoring the break, and singing:
I 'I be gay and happy still!'"

Then she cried : Why, Bert what brought
you over at such an unearthly hour in the morn-
ing ? But, without waiting for an explanation of
so startling an event, she went on, Oh, come up-
stairs I've changed my room all about, and it is
very much prettier."
Bert looked fresh and alert as she took out her
watch and said laughing:
I can't, thank you; have n't time; besides, I
'm afraid my enthusiasm would n't come up to your
expectations, as I think I 've missed one or two of
your Friday revolutions, and probably all your
things are back again where I last saw them."
Oh, no Nan retorted; this combination
has never before been offered to an American
public! "
"What Have you turned your mirror to the
wall and your bed up-side-down ? "
"Bert, you 're saucy!" cried Nan. But why
are you in such a hurry?"
"Because," Bert began sententiously, "a busi-
ness woman can't waste mornings at this rate. My
oysters and salad are earned by the labor of my
hands, and depend upon a faithful discharge of
my duties. Good-morning, idle worms! I am off;
my employer will be expecting me," and the lofty
confidential clerk stalked tragically toward the
"Your what?" cried Nan, while Evelyn flew
out of her room and demanded, "What under the
sun are you talking about, Bert?"
Bert was now leaning against the newel-post in
a paroxysm of laughter.
Girls," she said with great impressiveness,
"I mean exactly what I say--I 'm ahead of
you all! Aha, my precious Nan! I am due this
morning at the office of 'N. F. Mitchell & Com-
pany, wholesale and retail seed house.' in the
capacity of private secretary "


"Oh, Bert," commented Evelyn with sympa-
thetic pride in her friend. Oh, you dear, brave
Bert !"
Nan was silent for a moment, but her shining
eyes were eloquent with surprise and delight;
finally she said slowly, with returning incredulity:
No, Bert-you don't really mean it-you are
"Jesting! Please come and see me
perched on a stool six feet high, with an
inky streak across my nose, and my fin-
gers a sight to behold! Well," glancing
again with a business-like air at her watch, '
" call at the office, since you have nodtll,
else to do, and look in, but don't dar. r..
speak to me. Good-bye !" she saic .
she opened the door; good-bye :I.:
shouted from the front steps, and "gc..:.1-
bye!" again at the gate; while Na,,
and Evelyn gazed after her and then
at each other.
"'I 'm struck spachless,' as th:
Irishman said," murmured Nan, sinl-
ing upon the top step. .
"I think it 's grand news," .
asserted Evelyn, with a deep sigh '
of gratification; "let 's hurry up .
with our work, and go to Cathy's .
this afternoon! Wont she be
astonished !" .. A "
And away they sped to their
own rooms and their own plans.
Not that these two sisters led
lives apart, for they were the best
of friends, and had already dis-
cussed their respective hopes and
fears. The fears were usually
monopolized by Evelyn, who was of
a timid, self-distrustful nature and
hesitated to attempt many things
where Nan rushed boldly in. But
if she was not made to lead, she was \ .: II
adapted to follow, if only she were .:,.
courage by a more dauntless spirit. Nan
was such a spirit; yet Evelyn, in her quiet. .
way, often held her impulsive sister to a
purpose when the dull reaction from high enthu-
siasms set in with Nan.
And so it came about that when Nan flattened
her nose against the window-pane on that rainy
day, she also flattened her spirits by a deliberate
survey of her available accomplishments; and
when, half an hour later, Evelyn came in, it was
to find her younger sister, the stalwart ex-champion
of independence and fun, with a shiny nose and
moist-looking eyes !
"Why, my dear Nannie," said Evelyn, tenderly,

hastening to her sister's side and putting her arms
about her, "what troubles you ?"
This sympathy caused a fresh sniffle, to be
duly smothered in the damp handkerchief, while
the meek sufferer moaned, "Oh, I 'm mad!"
Evelyn smiled, for she knew that when Nan
thought how "mad" she was, she would stop crying.



SYes," she
i' resumed bro-
!ier voice
S . .:. gained strength
as she went on,
"I am about as
disgusted and
angry as I can
"For what
her sister.
Because," replied Nan, with a catch in her
breath, "because I 'm not a man--if you must
know Here only yesterday I had enough cour-
age and determination to start two boys in a good
lucrative business, and now to-day I face the fact


that nobody has expected me to do or to be any-
thing in particular, and that all my expensive edu-
cation has n't provided me with a single weapon
to fight my way with, if I had to fight. Why, even
if I were reduced to begging," she added, with a
sniff, I should n't know enough to warm over
the cold pieces I received! Don't you think it is
just too bad to be a girl ? "
"I used to think so," Evelyn answered slowly,
turning her head away to arrange the draping of a
curtain. But in a moment she resumed her el-
derly-sister fashion of speech-she was three
years Nan's senior-"No, Nannie, if you really
wish to be brave and self-reliant, you have full
opportunity to be so, as you are."
"But what can I do?" broke in Nan, stormily;
"boys always have some occupation ready and
waiting for them."
"Oh, no, they have n't! answered Evelyn.
Just think how many college students we have
known who have n't decided on a profession until
their senior year. They study the various branches
and callings until they find in which line they have
the most ability."
"Oh, dear! there it is again!" sighed Nan
hopelessly they always do develop a taste for
something, and then everything is all right. But I
don't long to do anything except to be miserable
about it," she again sighed. But, to return to
the point at issue, my dear sister, will you have
the kindness to mention what I do well? "
You are capable in many ways and at many
tasks ; whatever you do succeeds."
"What? wildly demanded Nan.
Why, your hats are more Parisian than Paris;
you draw well, paint well, and you are certainly
very ingenious. Look at this room !"
They both looked and saw a very quaint and
dainty room, made pretty, moreover, not by money,
but by taste and skill. Even the owner's troubled
countenance relaxed as she contemplated the effect
of some yellow cushions she had recently added to
an old chair that she had reclaimed from the shades
of the attic, and had thus adorned.
Yes," she assented reluctantly, "my room is
rather satisfactory; but who is going to pay me
for making oriental divans out of old piano-boxes,
I'd like to know ? "
As Evelyn did n't immediately order one, Nan
went on, dejectedly dropping her chin into her palm.
But I should like to be artistic-even for money's
sake, you know. I want to have a studio, with queer
bits of drapery that you don't have to mend or hem.
I'd like to be a decorative artist, and go into people's
houses and sweep out all the hideous steamboat
furniture one sees. And I wish to know artists,
and to have them come to my studio and eat sar-

dines and crackers, and play Spanish airs on a banjo
while I paint things to astonish the world. No, on
second thought, I 'd rather design, and if I could
play the banjo myself while I thought up new ideas
-would n't that be lovely she shouted gleefully.
She was quite cheerful now, with her little
imaginary exploits.
"Then an artist is what you are fitted to be,
Nan, dear," announced her sister with conviction;
" for what any one wishes to be, that he may be."
Nan received this scrap of philosophy with ashrug.
"Yes, if he is a long-headed old fellow and
wishes within his limits she said.
But I think some sort of artistic achievement
is within your limits," urged Evelyn.
Nan bestowed a grateful look at her sister, but
immediately voiced another objection: "Where
am I going to begin? People are always talking
about the 'avenues now freely opened to our eman-
cipated sisters,' but no one ever tells a poor girl
exactly how to begin- what to do first. Men have
chances and opportunities."
"Yes," Evelyn quickly rejoined; and do you
know how they happen to fill them? By being
equal to their demands. If I were you, I should go
to work and perfect some incomplete accomplish-
ment. But I hear Mother calling. Come, cheer
up, sister mine! 'We miss the good we oft might
win, by fearing to attempt,' you know."
This saying was a truth that had often been
urged by Nan upon Evelyn's own attention during
seasons of self-abasement; so there was a touch of
sarcasm in the elder sister's smile, as she glanced
back from the door.
By that time, however, Nan's nose was assuming
its natural hue, and life began to look more hope-
ful, for she had a strong spirit that liked to con-
quer obstacles.
Yes, Nan Ferris," she thought, it is about as
that wise old Evelyn says; you have as good a
chance as anybody without respect to sex, and you
shall be something worthy of existence You shall
do some one thing so well that somebody will be
frantic to pay you a fabulous price for it. And
what will you do with this wealth ?" she went on,
addressing herself. "Are you so base that you
yearn for filthy lucre for its own sake? No, Nan
Ferris, you are not. First you will pay your own
little bills, and lighten your father's cares instead of
his pocket; and then, may be, you can go on lovely
little sketching tours in the summer ; and, perhaps
-oh, Nan -perhaps, if you are a great success,
you can go to Europe some time and study art !"
This climax of prospective bliss was so top-heavy
that the whole delightful pile came crashing down,
laying bare to this architect of her own fortunes
the uncertain foundation on which she had built.

VOL. XIII.-48.

(To be continued.)




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WE have been playing bopeep to-day,
Out on the sand-dunes along the bay.
Who was our playmate, do you think?
You could n't guess who gave us a wink
And hid his face in the funniest place,-
Behind a bit of a soft white cloud!
And Polly and I we laughed aloud
To see how the sun enjoyed the fun.
And then he gave us another peep
Before we could hide in the sedges deep.

Many a little cloud went by,
Floating up in the blue, blue sky-
Oh, it was jolly for me and Polly
To watch the sun look slyly out
To see what we were laughing about !
We kept as quiet as mice, we two,
While he was sailing along the blue,
Till he hid behind a patch of white,
And then we hurried with all our might
To hide again for a little while,
Before he came with his beaming smile
And seemed to try whether Polly and I
Or he could beat, as he went to find
Another white cloud to hide behind.

At last he was tired, and hid his head
In clouds of purple and gold and red;
And we were tired, so in we came
To tell what a merry, lively game
We had in the meadow -just we three
The good old sun with Polly and me.

'lg a "' i" 'i

V,< .: ,- - .. -r. .,





By A. C.

AN army of children encamped by the sea!
What a muster of warriors 't is getting to be !
They are coming in clans, with their mothers and maids;
They come in battalions, with buckets and spades;
They are coming to make a descent on our coast,-
They will alter the shape of it, sure -such a host !
Intrenching and digging from morning till night
What foe would dare scale such redoubts in a fight?

Could any invader such parapets take
As these forts that the sturdy young champions make
See them shoulder their shovels and march to the fray-
See them merrily join the long battle array !
Here 's a wave On their works it begins its attacks i
Oh Alas Our brave soldiers are turning their backs !
Ah, they rally,-they charge No more flight, nor affright !
They recapture the forts, and they '11 fight until night !

(Ask this little irl.)



[. I.' Hisiorical Biography. ]



THE battle of Monmouth was the last great
battle before the final victory at Yorktown. The
three and a half years which intervened, however,

-- ..

.,6 .,s

. s, ,-"
C -


were busy years for Washington. He was obliged
to settle disputes between the French and Amer-
ican officers, to order the disposition of the forces,
and to give his attention to all the suggestions of
plans for action. He was greatly concerned that
Congress should be growing weak and ineffi-
cient. Here was a man, whom some had foolishly
supposed to be aiming at supreme power, only
anxious that the civil government should be
strengthened. He saw very clearly that while the
separate States were looking after their several
affairs, the Congress which represented the whole
country was losing its influence and power. I
think our political system," he wrote, may be

compared to the mechanism of a clock, and that
we should derive a lesson from it; for it answers
no good purpose to keep the smaller wheels in
order, if the greater one, which is the support and
prime mover of the whole, is neglected."
He was indignant at the manner in which Con-
gressmen, and others who were concerned in the
--.ii ..i rl. country, spent their time in Phila-
. An assembly," he said, a concert, a
.I..... I I pper, that will cost three or four hun-
r:.1 .. ',..: will not only take off men from act-
i-, i rli: business, but even from thinking of it;

" 0i

I--.- ----

S part of the officers of our army, front
I,...:,r. ,.:. essity, are quitting the service; and
ii..- -..r.. rtuous few, rather than do this, arc
sinking by sure degrees into beggary and want."
How simply he himself lived may be seen by the
jocose letter which he wrote to a friend, inviting him
to dine with him at headquarters. The letter is
addressed to Dr. Cochran, Surgeon-General in the
DEAR DOCTOR: I have asked Mrs. Cochran and Mrs. Living-
ston to dine with me to-morrow; but am I not in honor bound to
apprize them of their fare ? As I hate deception, even where the
imagination only is concerned, I will. It is needless to premise
that my table is large enough to hold the ladies. Of this they had
ocular proof yesterday. To say how it is usually covered, is rather
more essential; and this shall be the purport of my letter.
Since our arrival at this happy spot, we have had a ham, some-
times a shoulder of bacon, to grace head of the table; a piece
of roast beef adorns the foot; and a dish of beans or greens, almost
imperceptible, decorates the center. When the cook has a mind to
cut 'a figure, which I presume will be the case to-morrow, we have
two beefsteak pies, or dishes of crabs, dividing the space and reduc-
ing the distance between dish and dish, to about six feet, which,


without them, would be near twelve feet apart. Of late he has had
the surprising sagacity to discover that apples will make pies; and
it is a question if, in the violence of his efforts, we do not get one
of apples, instead of having both of beefsteaks. If the ladies can
put up with such entertainment, and will submit to partake of it on
plates once tin butnow iron (not become so by the labor of scouring),
I shall be happy to see them; and am, dear Doctor, yours."

The main activity of the two armies in the last
years of the war was in the South, where General
Gates, and after him General Greene, were engaged
in a contest with Lord Cornwallis. Washington,
meanwhile, kept his position on the Hudson, where
he could watch the movements of the enemy still
in strong force in New York. The care of the whole
country was on his shoulders, for, except by his per-
sonal endeavors, it was impossible for the armies
to secure even what support they did receive from
Congress and the State governments. The letters
written by Washington during this period disclose
the numberless difficulties which he was obliged
to meet and overcome. He was the one man to
whom all turned, and he gave freely of himself.
How completely he ignored his own personal inter-
ests may be seen by an incident which occurred at
Mount Vernon.
Several British vessels had sailed up the Chesa-
peake and Potomac, and had pillaged the country
roundabout. When these vessels lay off Mount
Vernon, the manager of Washington's estate,
anxious to save the property under his charge, went
out and bought off the marauders by a liberal gift.
Washington wrote at once, rebuking him for his
conduct. In the letter, he used these words :
I am very sorry to hear of your loss: I am a little sorry to hear
of my own; but that which gives me most concern is, that you
should go on board the enemy's vessel and furnish them with re-
freshments. It would have been a less painful circumstance to me
to have heard that, in consequence of your non-compliance with
their request, they had burnt my house and laid the plantation in
ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative,
and should have reflected on the bad example of communicating
with the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments to
them with a view to prevent a conflagration. It was not in your
power, I acknowledge, to prevent them from sending a flag on
shore, and you did right to meet it; but you should, in the same
instant that the business of it was unfolded, have declared explicitly
that it was improper for you to yield to their request; after which, if
they had proceeded to help themselves by force, you could but have
submitted ; and being unprovided for defense, this was to be pre-
ferred to a feeble opposition, which only serves as a pretext to bum
and destroy."
In July, 1781, Washington's army, which was
watching Sir Henry Clinton in New York, was re-
enforced by the French troops, and at the same
time a French squadron cruised off the coast ready
to co-operate. General Greene was crowding
Lord Cornwallis in the South and edging him up
into Virginia, and the design was to keep the two
British armies apart, and defeat each. But the
siege of New York was likely to be a long one, and
the French admiral had. orders to repair to the
West Indies in the fall. So time was precious.

Accordingly, Washington determined to mass
his troops in Virginia, unite the northern and
southern armies, and, in conjunction with the French
fleet, completely crush Cornwallis. It was neces-
sary, however, that Clinton, in New York, should
suspect nothing of this scheme, or else he, too, would
join Cornwallis. The change of plan was carried out
with great skill. Letters were written detailing



imaginary movements, and these letters fell into
the hands of the British general, who supposed
that great preparations were making to attack him
in New York. IMeanwhile, a few troops only were
left in camp at White Plains, while the rest of the
army crossed the Hudson and moved rapidly to
Virginia. It was not until the two armies were
within reach of each other that Clinton learned
what had really been going on.
Washington took this opportunity to make a fly-
ing visit to Mount Vernon. It was the first time he
had been there since he left it to attend that meet-
ing of the Continental Congress at which he had
been chosen Commander-in-Chief. He had never
lost sight of his home, however. Thither his
thoughts often turned, and many a time, amid
the anxieties and cares of his burdensome life, he
looked with longing toward the quiet haven of
Mount Vernon. He wrote weekly to the manager
of his estate, and he gave him one general rule of
conduct in this wise : ': Let the hospitality of the
house, with respect to the poor, be kept up. Let
no one go away hungry. If any of this kind of
people should be in want of corn, supply their
necessities, provided it does not encourage them.
in idleness."


He staid but a couple of days at Mount Vernon,
where he was joined by Count Rochambeau,
and then he hastened to the headquarters of the
army at Williamsburg. It was now the middle of
September. Cornwallis was at Yorktown, and
everything depended on the ability of the com-
bined French and American forces to capture his
army before he could be re-enforced by Clinton.
The leading generals of the American army were
there eagerly directing operations, and Washing-
ton was at the front superintending the works, for
the men were fighting Cornwallis with the spade
as well as with cannon. Washington put the match
to the first gun that was fired. One who was in
the army at the time relates an incident that came
under his notice :
"A considerable cannonading from the enemy;
one shot killed three men, and mortally wounded
another. While the Rev. Mr. Evans. our chap-

/f -- a.=#jt' -u'*- -


lain, was standing near the Commander-in-Chief,
a shot struck the ground so near as to cover his
hat with sand. Being much agitated, he took off
his hat, and said, See here, General!' 'Mr.
Evans,' replied his excellency, with his usual com-
posure, 'you 'd better carry that home and show
it to your wife and children.' "
Indeed it seemed to many that Washington bore
a charmed life, and it was often said that he was
under the special protection of God. He was fear-
less, and constantly exposed to danger, but his

constant escapes made him cool and self-possessed,
and the admiration of his men. He was excited
by the events which were hurrying the war to the
close, and he watched with intense earnestness the
several assaults which were made on the works.
Once he had dismounted and was standing by
Generals Knox and Lincoln at the grand battery.
It was not a safe place, for, though they were behind
a fortification, it was quite possible for shot to enter
the opening through which they were looking. One
of his aids, growing nervous, begged him to leave,
for the place was very much exposed.
If you think so," said Washington, you are
at liberty to step back." Presently a ball did strike
the cannon, and, rolling off, fell at Washington's
feet. General Knox seized him by the arm.
"My dear General," said he, "we can't spare
you yet."
It 's a spent ball," replied Washington, coolly.
" No harm is done." He watched the action until
the redoubts which his men had been assaulting
were taken ; then he drew a long breath of relief
and turned to Knox.
The work is done," he said emphatically;
"and well done."
The siege was short, the work was sharp, for it
was full of enthusiasm and hope, and when, on
October 19, the army of Lord Cornwallis sur-
rendered to General Washington, there was a
tumult of rejoicing in camp which was long re-
membered. Washington issued orders that the
army should give thanks to God. "Divine serv-
ice," he said, is to be performed to-morrow in
the several brigades and divisions. The Com-
mander-in-Chief earnestly recommends that the
troops not on duty should universally attend, with
that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of
heart which the recognition of such reiterated and
astonishing interpositions of Providence demand
of us."
The officers of the combined armies spent some.
time in the neighborhood, and there was a great
ball given at Fredericksburg by the citizens of the
place. The most distinguished guest was the
mother of Washington, then seventy-four years
old, who came into the room leaning on the arm
of her son. She was quiet and dignified, as one
after another of the French officers made his bow
and his complimentary speech; but I think there
must have been a great deal of motherly pride in
her heart, though it is said that when her George
came to see her alone after the victory at York-
town, she spoke to him of his health, marked the
lines of care in his face, spoke of his early days,
and gave him a mother's caution, but said nothing
of the glory he had won. To the last he was her
boy, and not America's hero.








AFTER the surrender of Yorktown and the
departure of the French, Washington established
his headquarters at Newburgh on the Hudson.
There he remained with the army until it was
disbanded; and the house in which he lived is
carefully preserved and shown as an historical
There is a pleasant story of La Fayette's affec-
tionate remembrance of the life there. Just before

his death, which occurred in 1834, he gave a din-
ner party in Paris to the American Minister and
some friends who had been old associates. Later
in the evening, when it came time for supper, the
guests were ushered into a room which was in
strange contrast with the elegance of the apart-
ments they had been in. The ceiling was low,
with large beams crossing it; there was a single
small, uncurtained window, and several small
doors. It looked more like an old fashioned
Dutch kitchen than a room in a French house.
A long, rough table was meagerly set. A dish of
meat stood on it, some uncouth-looking pastry,


and wine in decanters and bottles, ready to be
poured out into glasses and camp-mugs.
"Do you know where we are now?" asked
La Fayette as his companions looked about puz-
zled, and as if in a dream. "Ah! the seven
doors and one window and the silver camp-gob-
lets! We are at Washington's headquarters on
the Hudson, fifty years ago He had repro-
duced the room as a surprise to his friends.

Peace did not come at once after Yorktown;
there was still fighting in a desultory way, but all
knew that the end was not far off. Yet the sol-
diers could not go back to their homes, and Con-
gress was shamefully remiss about paying them.
Murmurs deep and loud arose, and Washington
suffered keenly from the neglect shown to the army.
It required all his patience and tact to keep the mur-
murs from breaking out into violent action. With
no military duty to perform, and with the impa-
tience of men who were suffering injustice, the
officers and men began to form all sorts of plans.
One of the. officers-and how many agreed with
him is not known, but the sentiment easily took
this form- one of the officers wrote to Washing-
ton that it was clear that Congress was a failure.
The army had won independence, but no reliance
could be placed on the Government. How much
more stable was the Government of England!
Would not such a government be after all the best
for America? It might not be necessary to call
the head of the government a king, though even
that title many would prefer, but the head ought
to have the power of a king. There was much
more to the same effect, and the letter was really
a feeler to see how Washington would look upon
such a movement, which, of course, aimed to
make him the monarch of the new nation. Wash-
ington did not hesitate a moment, but wrote a let-
ter which must have made the officer's ears tingle,
however honest he may have been in his opinion.
Washington said:

With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read
with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal.
Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given
me more painful sensations than your information of there being
such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed and I must
view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the present,
the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some
further agitation of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary.
I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have
given encouragement to an address, which, to me, seems big with
the greatest mischief that can befall any country. If I am not de-
ceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a per-
son to whom your schemes are more disagreeable. At the same time,
in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a
more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do;
and as far as my powers and influence in a constitutional way extend,
they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it,
should there be any occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you
have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or posterity,

or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind, and
never communicate, as from yourself cr any one else, a sentiment of
the like nature."

A graver peril arose, and Washington redeemed
his promise to stand by the army. In spite of the
united effort of the army and its friends in Congress,
no satisfactory arrangement was made for paying
the long-delayed wages due to the soldiers. On
March Io, 1783, a notice was issued in the
camp at Newburgh, calling a meeting of the offi-
cers. The notice was not signed by any name,
and with it was sent out an address which rehearsed
the wrongs suffered by the army and hinted that
the time had come when the soldiers must take
matters into their own hands and compel Con-
gress to attend to their demands. It was an ap-
peal to which the officers were ready to listen, and
every one was in so excited a condition that it was
impossible to say what might not be done.
Washington, at any rate, saw there was great
danger, and he at once seized the occasion. He
issued an order calling attention to the address, and
asking that the meeting should be postponed four
days and then should convene at his invitation.
This was to give the men time to cool off. When the
day came, Washington, as soon as the meeting was
called to order, made a long and powerful speech.
He was not a ready speaker, and so, feeling the im-
portance of the occasion, he had written out what he
had to say, and he began to read it to the officers.
He had read only a sentence, when he stopped, took
out his spectacles, and said, as he put them on:
Gentlemen, you will pardon me for putting on
my glasses. I have grown gray in your service,
and I now find myself growing blind."
It was a simple thing to say, and simply said, but
it touched the soldiers, and made them very tender
to their commander, and more ready even than
before to listen to his counsel. Washington went
on to say :

"If my conduct heretofore has not evinced to you that I have
been a faithful friend to the army, my declaration of it at this time
would be equally unavailing and improper. But, as I was among
the first who embarked in the cause of our common country; as I
have never left your side one moment, save when called from you on
public duty; as I have been the constant companion and witness of
your distresses, and not among the last to feel and acknowledge
your merits; as I have considered my own military reputation as
inseparably connected with that of the army; as my heart has ever
expanded with joy, when I have heard its praises, and my indigna-
tion has arisen, when the mouth of detraction has been opened
against it; it can scarcely be supposed, at this late stage of the war,
that I am indifferent to its interests."

He used all his personal influence to heal the
breach between the army and Congress, and he
brought the officers back to a more reasonable
mind. All the while he was writing to members
of Congress and doing his utmost to bring about a
just treatment of the army.




When the time came to disband the army,
Washington, ready as he was to go back to his
home, could not forget that the work of the past
seven years would not be completed until the
people which had become independent was united
under a strong government. He was the foremost

2. The payment of all the debts contracted by
the country in the war.
3. The establishment of a uniform militia sys-
tem throughout the country.--He did not advise
having a standing army, but he thought all the men
should be drilled in their neighborhoods, formed


man in the country; he was also profoundly aware
of the difficulties through which they were yet to
pass, and he addressed a long letter to the gover-
nors of the several States. Congress was weak and
unable to take the lead. The States were each
provided with governments, and were the real
powers, but Washington saw clearly that it would
not do to have thirteen independent governments in
the country, each looking only after its own inter-
ests. So in this letter he tried to show the States
the importance of four things :
i. An indissoluble union of the States under one

into companies, and be ready in any peril to take
up arms again.
4. The cultivation of a spirit of confidence be-
tween different parts of the country. He had seen
so much jealousy and prejudice that he knew how
dangerous these were to the peace of the country.

At last the time came when the army was dis-
banded. A few of the troops only and their offi-
cers went with Washington to New York when the
British left the city. There was rejoicing every-
where; but it was a sorrowful moment when
Washington took leave in person of the officers


who had stood by him through the long, dreary
years of the war. He was about to leave the city
to be ferried across the North River to the Jersey
shore, and his old friends gathered to say good-bye
at Fraunces' Tavern, in Broad street. When he
entered the room he could scarcely command his
voice. He said a word or two, and they all drank
a farewell toast, as the custom was in those days.
Then Washington said: I can not come to each
of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each
of you will come and take me by the hand."
General Knox stood nearest, and he held out his
hand. The tears were in Washington's eyes as he
turned to his old comrade and grasped his hand.
He drew the strong man to him-Knox was nearly
twenty years younger than Washington, and very
dear to him and kissed him. Not a word could
eitherofthem speak. Another general followed and
another, each greeted with the same affection ; and
then Washington left the room, passed through
the corps of infantry which stood on guard, and
walked to Whitehall, followed by the whole com-
pany, a silent procession. He entered the barge,
turned as the boat pushed off, and waved his hat
in silent adieu. The officers returned the salute
in the same way, and then turned and in silence
marched back to Fraunces'.
Washington went to Philadelphia. Congress
was in session at Annapolis, but the Treasury was
in Philadelphia. On receiving his commission as
Commander-in-Chief, Washington had announced
that he would receive no money for services,

but would keep an exact account of all his ex-
penses. That account he had kept as carefully
and scrupulously as any book-keeper in a bank,
and he now rendered it to the Comptroller of
the Treasury. It was in his own handwriting,
every item set down and explained. I know of
few incidents in Washington's career which show
the character of the man better than this. He
held that a sacred trust had been reposed in him,
and he meant to be faithful in the least particular.
On December 23, 1783, Congress was assem-
bled at Annapolis. The gallery was filled with
ladies. The Governor, Council, and Legislature
of Maryland, several officers, and the Consul-
General of France were on the floor. The
Members of Congress were seated and wore their
hats to signify that they represented the Govern-
ment. The spectators stood with bare heads.
General Washington entered and was conducted
by the Secretary of Congress to a seat. When
all was quiet, General Mifflin, who was then Presi-
dent of Congress, turned to Washington and said:
" The United States, in Congress assembled, is
prepared to receive the communications of the
Washington rose and read a short address, in
which he resigned his commission. He delivered
the paper into the hands of the President, who
replied with a little speech; and Washington was
now private citizen. The next day he left
Annapolis, and made all haste to return to his
beloved Mount Vernon.

(To b: con,,inued. )



L HERE had been rain
among the mountains for
almost a week. Every day
j-P Ithe newspapers brought re-
S ports of clear, warm weather
S in Boston and New York,
S while the Crawford House
S guests gathered in shivering
S groups around their open
S fires and applied themselves
to indoor occupations, dis-
contentedly or cheerily, ac-
cording to their various dis-
positions. Among the most impatient in the hotel
was a group of young people, who, as the season

drew to its close, were more eager than ever to
improve each shining hour. The hours, however,
refusing to shine on any terms, that gloomy Sep-
tember week, the bees were left to hum," as Lou
Elwin plaintively remarked.
When, therefore, the sun at last looked over the
mountain-tops one cool, delicious morning, and
with his shining fingers gently drew aside the
misty draperies that had so long overhung the
little valley of the Notch, great was the delight
of old and young at Crawford's, and it was an
eager company of boys and girls that assembled
about the big parlor fireplace after breakfast: As
soon as they were fairly together, half a dozen
were chattering at once.



Is n't it glorious?"
What shall we do- ?"
"Where shall -- ?"
': Tennis "
Bugle Cliff! "
A walk down the track."
A shout of laughter greeted this last proposal,
which was offered by a delicate-looking youth of
about eighteen.
Fred is afraid that he '11 rub the shine off his
boots!" cried one of his companions, slapping
him on the shoulder.
Or tear that tennis suit on the rocks," sug-
gested Lou Elwin, with a toss of her pretty head,
as she leaned back in her chair and planted her
own stout little boots emphatically on the hearth.
Lou was the acknowledged leader among her set
at Crawford's, that season, in all the jaunts and
good times that were planned. She was a Boston
girl, and she had her full share of the independent
spirit that characterized her ancestors. Whenever
the party set out on a scramble over the rough
mountain-paths, her joyous laugh was sure to be
heard far in advance of the rest; it was always
her tennis-racket that met and returned the ball
when the play was apparently lost; it was Lou
Elwin whose name zigzagged all over the cards of
the best partners an hour before dancing began.
Fred Seacomb did not quail, however, before her
little broadside of irony, but just looked straight
into her eyes for a moment, and said quietly,
" You know better, Lou." And then he proceeded
to argue his proposal, with such effect that in five
minutes more the whole party of young folks were
racing down the plank walk toward the railroad.
At the little rustic shop beyond the station, the
girls stopped for caramels, packages of which the
sterner element dutifully tucked into their coat-
pockets, ready for instant use. Thus provisioned,
they all struck off in the direction of the Notch,
walking in twos and threes, on the railroad ties, or
balancing with little shrieks and a great deal of
laughter on the narrow rails. Lou, as usual, was
ahead, but Fred soon caught up and took his place
at her side.
For several minutes, nothing was said by either.
Then Lou exclaimed, almost pettishly:
"Why do you try to be so quiet, and exact,
and and different ? "
You know, Lou, I can't stand quite so much
as some of the other fellows. The doctor-- "
Oh, yes, I know. You 're up here for your
health, and all that; but you might 'fly around' a
little more, get a little bit -just the least little
bit-rumpled, once in a while, like the rest of
us !"

Fred laughed now, merrily enough, and per-
haps would have defended himself, had not
another boy of about his own age joined them
at that moment, having caught the import of the
girl's words.
If you think Seacomb can't fly around,' Miss
Elwin, you ought to see him in the gymnasium, at
Harvard! He 's the best man on the bars in the
Freshman class, and he can "
There, there, Arthur interrupted Fred,
" girls don't care about such affairs as that. My
blackest sin, just now, is the shine on my boots,
is n't it, Lou ? "
Fred had known her long, and as an intimate
friend, and so he used her first name easily-a
liberty rather envied by some of the later comers.
At the end of the Crawford plateau, they all
turned away from the track for a few moments, to
visit The House that Jack Built." Of the mys-
terious "Jack," who was popularly believed to
subsist on toads and snakes, the girls stood rather
in awe, and so they left the boys to do the talking.
Somewhat to Lou's surprise, Fred Seacomb seemed
to be on excellent terms with the bluff Jack, who
had been an English sailor. The party soon
chorused good-bye, and ran back down the path
to the track, to resume their excursion. They
now entered the Notch itself, and for a few minutes
even their gay laughter was hushed in the presence
of those gray cliffs towering high, high above their
heads. It seemed as if they were leaving the land
of sunshine behind them, and were entering the
very home of storm and avalanche. The iron
track, clinging to the crumbling slope, gave no
sense of security or conquest over the terrible forces
of nature; rather, it was a frightened thing, like
each one of themselves, at the mercy of the stern,
granite-browed hills overhanging it.
They emerged from the dark ravine, and gazed
on the fair valley opening before them, with a keen
sense of relief which showed itself in a renewed
chorus of happy, thoughtless talk and laughter.
Once they sprang aside, and stood in a gay-colored
group against the embankment, to let the nine
o'clock Portland train pass. Then they went on,
more merrily than ever, the girls gathering clus-
ters of brilliant golden-rod and purple asters for
their hats and belts. It was Fred who discovered
a single blue violet blossoming serenely and cheer-
fully at that late day directly between the iron rails,
and with all the desolateness of Mount Willard
stretching up into the sky above it.
Lou took the offered flower without a word,
and wished it had been golden-rod.
Is n't there any manliness about him? she
thought fretfully. That was just like a girl. I
believe I 'm more a boy than he is, now !"


She saved the violet, however, and tucked it
away carefully, where it could not be injured or lost.
About a mile below the Notch, a small house
stood beside the track, occupied by a young mar-
ried couple and their two children, who were held
up to the open window to look at the strangers.
Fred handed in a spray of asters to the baby, and
the bashful little mother took them with a nod and
a pleased expression in her face. Lou had started
to do the same thing, but drew back sharply, vexed
again, when she saw Fred step forward with his
flowers. The woman, however, had noticed her
movement, and after a moment's hesitation beck-
oned to the girl. Lou was by this time some
distance down the track, and shook her head,
pleasantly enough; for, however much out of sorts,
she rarely forgot herself so far as to be really rude
to any one. The woman seemed anxious, as Lou
was about to join her party, and leaned out of the
window, pointing up the track and making gestures
which were quite incomprehensible. But Lou was
in no mood for trifling or lingering. She gave the
baby a parting wave of her hand, and ran offafter the
rest, who had not noticed this little episode. Fred
Seacomb was just in front, provokingly unconscious
of her unfavorable opinion, and-what? yes, act-
ually racing with one of the girls Well, the
morning was so bright, and Lou's own nature so
like it, that the clouds soon blew away, and she
was one of the merriest of the party as they drew
near the agreed limit of their excursion.
The sun was well up over the mountains when
they reached the upper end of the trestle-bridge
which spans the deep chasm of Willey Brook. It
was an uncanny sort of place, and as the girls crept
up to the edge and looked down at the jagged
bowlders eighty feet below, they shuddered and
shrank back, with their hands over their eyes. One
or two proposed starting for home at once, and the
whole party probably would have begun the home-
ward march, had not one of the boys in an unlucky
moment remarked in aloud whisper to his neighbor:
"'T would be just like Lou Elwin to propose to
go across."
I think she 's scared, though, this time,"
replied his companion with a laugh.
Lou stopped short, and the others with her.
She had caught a part of the foolish words, and
guessed the rest. Turning squarely about, she
surveyed the yawning gulf, and the slender road
across it, with shining eyes and flushed cheeks.
Her breath came quickly. She was afraid, but
should the others know it -- especially Fred Sea-
comb, whom she had been taunting with weakness ?
Without otherwise announcing her intention,
she walked deliberately toward the trestle, and
stepped upon the narrow line of boards which

were placed across the ties for a foot-way. Fred
sprang forward and laid his hand on her arm.
Lou Surely you '11 not attempt -- "
Fred Seacomb, I 'm going across this bridge.
If you don't wish to go," she added, in a tone which
implied more contempt than she meant,- she was
so excited,-" you can sit down here and wait till
we come back. Who 's going to follow ?" she cried,
raising her voice and glancing over her shoulder.
She looked very pretty, standing there with a great
cluster of asters in her belt, her eyes sparkling, and
little wisps of hair blowing about her face. Two or
three stout fellows came forward eagerly enough,
and one of the girls. Fred had not moved. Lou
could feel his fingers tremble on her arm. Now
he tried to speak again, but she shook off his hand
impatiently, and turned away.
"But, Miss Elwin-Lou-- No, she would
not listen. Already she was well out upon the
trestle, and the wind, drawing down through the
ravine, had begun to buffet her slender figure.
Lou- you 've forgotten -the train /"
She could not hear now, if she would. The
wind caught the words and hurled them away
down the valley after the brook.
The boards were wet from the recent rains, and
to her dismay she began to find it difficult to keep
a steady footing. One moment, the wind would
howl in her ears, and seize upon her fluttering
dress wth its powerful grasp until she was obliged
to lean against it with her whole force ; the next,
the gust would die away, withdrawing its support
so suddenly that she nearly fell. She could not
turn, but she knew that those who had foolishly
started after her must be some distance in the
rear, for she heard nothing from them. She did
not know that they had given up the perilous task
and gone back at Fred's first warning.
Once, and only once, she ventured to look down
through the trestle work. Far, oh so far below,
she could see the waters of the little stream as it
lay among the rocks with no sound, but moving
on its white way silently. At the same moment, a
blast of wind grasped and shook her so fiercely
that she well-nigh lost her balance on the uneven
boards. There was no rail or support of any
kind on either side or overhead; only space,
space, whirling in the wind, and below, the rocks
and the white brook.
Giddy, half fainting, she paused irresolutely,
attempted, perhaps, to turn back, and sank upon
the bridge with a sob of genuine terror, clinging
to the smooth iron track and hiding her face in
her hands.
As she did so, she heard a peculiar, vibrating
hum in the rail that sent the blood to her heart.
Behind her, in their safe position on the embank-



ment, the rest heard it, too, and, looking up, saw
what was coming. The Boston express, with a
long and heavily loaded train, was at that very

panions' cries of terror and warning; in a bewil-
dering dream, she heard two shrill notes echoing
and re-echoing from the mountains far and near,


t'~ .- t 'i
\ '- ', .
i~.^ '. : .. %" ..

^ t;, ^ 2 '1 .

i. ^....; "
iU 1' "
I ;

* ta


moment rounding a curve not a mile above the and knew it was the agonized shriek of the great,
trestle, and rushing upon them, a roaring, resist- laboring locomotive, powerless to prevent what the
less avalanche of iron. rocks below were waiting for. She had read in
Lou felt as if she were in a nightmare. She tried books of people who, in extreme peril, saw the de-
to move, but was as motionless as if she were tails of their past life like a flash; with the wet
lashed to the bridge. As if in a bewildering iron rails quivering and twanging more and more
dream, she faintly caught the sound of her com- loudly under her hands, she knew what it meant.

? .- ,- , - i-,
-4 If,


~~~Y -,-

^ ---_ : .., .. .1 /-. ", ,d'* '

"b ..

. .'.c ,, -; K_---
-- "I ,.,

i I . ? .-

'' t -'--_-.-'

E ,, '" ".- ^

- -- ',


But even while the last accents of the whistle were
sobbing themselves away in the distance, there
came a sound of footsteps, light and swift. Two
strong arms seized the girl about the waist, and,
still, as if in a strange dream, she knew it was the
languid, delicate Fred who was running with her
in his arms along that fearful height.
A few moments later, a hollow roar and tremulous
movement under his feet told that the train, too,
was on the bridge.
When Fred leaped from the track, upon the
farther side, the locomotive was not forty feet be-
hind them. The engineer's pale face stared at
them an instant from the cab; then the train, with
groaning brakes, smoking axles, and a shower of
cinders, thundered past and was gone. Not one
of the passengers knew of the escape, or even of
the danger.
It was afterward learned, however, that the ap-
pliances of the air-brake on the engine would not
work that day, and the train, with its tremendous ac-
quired momentum, ran to Bemis station, nine miles
below, before it could be brought to a standstill.
With half-closed eyes, Lou lay helplessly on the
mossy plot where Fred had placed her, and, in
the slow waking from her dream, she watched
him as he went to and fro, at first beckoning and
making motions for the rest to join him by cross-
ing the bed of the brook, and then confining his
attention entirely to her.
His face was almost as white as her own, as he
approached, but she gave him a smile and a grate-
ful look that seemed to reassure him; and, after
seeing that her position was as comfortable as cir-
cumstances would permit, he took off his thick
jacket and laid it over her, in spite of a feeble pro-
test,-for the September morning was still cool,
and the wind whistled sharply through the ravine.
Next, Fred busied himself in gathering sticks,
and, wet as they were, he succeeded, with the aid
of several matches, in coaxing a blaze out of them,

almost at her feet. By the time the rest of the
company came panting up the steep slope, she
had so far recovered as to sit up and hold out her
cold hands to the cheery little fire which crackled
and snapped merrily against a big bowlder.
Many were the clumsy inquiries of the boys, and
the caresses of the girls as they came upon her
sitting, there, with Fred standing silently at one
side-no longer jacketless, for she had pleaded so
hard that he had put it on again.
There was some discussion as to what action
should now be taken, some favoring a slow return
to Crawford's by the road, some by the track, and
some, a short walk further down the valley to the
Willey House, where they could obtain rest and
refreshment. After many sober arguments, quite
different from the eager propositions in the parlor
that morning, they decided to return at once to
the hotel, and not by the track.
It was a very silent and nervous little group of
young people that made its way down to the
wagon road at the bottom of the valley. Fred
had been nearly exhausted, after all, by his efforts,
and Lou was so prostrated that they feared she
could not get home at all. But the spirits and
strength of the young are elastic, and by the time
they repassed the Notch, one would hardly know,
to look at them, that anything unusual had hap-
pened. It was agreed that all should say as little
about the affair as possible. Accordingly, nearly
all the party were in the parlor that night, dancing,
chatting, and laughing as usual.
For the next few days, it was observed that Fred
Seacomb did not play tennis, and, that Lou Elwin
never again chid him for his mild ways and mod-
erate excursions. Report says that she told him,
in her own frank way, that she was ashamed of her
former treatment of him; at any rate, she will not
hear a word said against him, among her friends;
and not once since that day has she been known
to accuse him of unmanliness.


MANY years ago, a young Italian lad named Gor-
dian, who had been proclaimed, when but fifteen
years old, Emperor of Rome, gave the people of
his native city a splendid entertainment or tri-
umph." And among the many strange and ter-
rible beasts that passed in procession around
his amphitheater, were ten curious animals-
long-necked, long-legged, and small-headed, with
tufted tails and queer little horns. They were
of a tawny orange color, beautifully spotted and

marked. They were driven around the arena in
gilded chariots by their Ethiopian drivers, and
were such an odd combination of the body of a
camel and the spots of a leopard that the people,
who gazed upon them in wonder and surprise,
gave to the strange beasts the name of "Camel-
opardus," or camel-leopard.
SThis singular, animal, however, had long been
known to the Arabians, under the name of "Xi-
rapha," or "the long-necked." And from this title





, /


VOL. XII.--49.



comes our word giraffe," the popular name now
given to the odd-looking beast that the boy-em-
peror exhibited in his circus sixteen centuries ago.
It is indeed a curious animal. Its chief char-
acteristics are its length of neck and its high fore-
quarters. The head is sometimes seventeen feet
from the ground, and specimens have been found
measuring over twenty feet, from hoof to nose.
The apparent height of the fore-quarters is not
due, as is supposed, to a greaterlength of the fore-
legs, but to the extraordinary height of the withers
or shoulder-bones. The tongue of the giraffe is
long and prehensile--that is, it is adapted to seize
and entwine; it can be tapered so small as to enter
the ring of a small key. This long neck and pre-
hensile tongue, which are found in no other animal,
enable this giant browser to feed with ease upon
the foliage and tender branches of trees.
The eyes of the giraffe are very large, soft, and

beautiful, and one would suppose that their mild,
imploring expression would restrain the hunters
from shooting down so attractive-looking and
inoffensive a creature. But the same willful and
cruel desire for what is wrongly called "sport,"
that has exterminated the buffalo of our Western
plains, is killing off the giraffe of Africa. Its strong-
tasting flesh is not enjoyable eating, and its hide is
of little use; its capture alive is of no value to man,
save as a gratification of curiosity; it can not, like
the camel, be used as a beast of burden ; nor does
it, like the ostrich or the elephant, provide either
feather or ivory for commerce. In fact, this curious
animal is of no practical use to man, and should be
left free to roam the plains and forests of its African
home, unmolested and unharmed, save for the oc-
casional capture of such living specimens as may help
boys and girls to study and admire one of the most
singular and graceful of the creatures of the earth.



A SUNFLOWER tall, by the garden wall,
Scornfully nodded his head
To a brilliant poppy, whose cheeks below
S Were all aflame with a crimson glow.

I am the child of the sun," he smiled;
His color is mine, you see,
While you are drinking his warm rays in,
S You never once try his tints to win."

But the poppy gay, still blushing away
(And laughing a little too),
.A Quietly answered, "The sun has told
SMe to be red and you to be gold.

S" The morning's hush and the poppy's
S Are dear to the heart of day
S As the noontide hour, with its triumphs

And the flower that rivals the glowing "'-

S" Heaven is large, and its chiefest char.:
S Is that life shall be broad and free,
And it bids the children of sun and st,., i,
Ne'er to a single type conform."

The sunflower wise looked down in surpr...
At the bold little flower below,
But he learned a lesson there and then
That needs to be learned by many men.







the smaller angles and finer outlines, and were
satisfied if their work conveyed the meaning they

You must have noticed the difference in your intended. There is a fantastic and not inelegan
own handwriting, when you are using a pen that writing used by the Burmese, a people to the north
does not suit you, and when you have one to which east of India, and south of China. This script i
you are accustomed. Similarly, when you are very rounded and is made up of fine lines. Th
writing on a slate a sharp slate-pencil makes a letters have been found to belong to an alphabe
clear, thin mark, a blunt pencil makes a broad that looks entirely different; and the difference
mark with uneven edges.
When the pencil is worn CO' OZD CO CO QC )(O OO OC m3 0o O


down on one side, if you
turn it over, it makes an-
other sort of a mark. The writing done with a
quill differs from that made with a steel pen.
And the differences between the writings of cer-
tain nations of the Old World-which at one
time puzzled people very much-were often caused
by their use of different writing materials, such as:
paper and pencils; paper and brushes; bricks and
metal pens; wax and metal nails; wood and
The Egyptians, you remember, had two kinds
of writing: one called hieroglyphs, used mainly
on monuments, for sentences of sacred history,
names of kings, and short prayers; the other called
hieratic, used on papyrus paper, chiefly for general
and quicker writing. Both these terms signify that
writing was sacred and connected with the priests.
Religion entered very largely into the life of the
people of Egypt, and the priests, who formed
the most powerful class, held all the learning,
and, before the Greeks flourished, were the wis-
est men in the world. The differences between


the rough little
sketches that
formed the let-
ters of the hie-
ratic or swift
hand and the la-
borious pictures
called hiero-
glyphs, arose
originally, and
kept growing
greater and

greater, because of the different materials used in
making them. It was natural to work very slowly
and carefully on the hieroglyphs which were carved
on royal monuments; while the scribes who wrote
the hieratic characters on smooth papyrus with a
reed pen and thick ink were obliged to disregard

arose from the custom of writing on palm-leaves
with a fine needle. It was difficult to make the
plain up-and-down strokes without splitting the
leaf, so these strokes were made in curves in circles
and half circles.
The alphabet of the Goths, before and about the
time they embraced Christianity, was formed on a
contrary system. All the strokes were straight,
either up and down, or crosswise, or slanting.
Many persons have thought this arose because
the Goths lacked a feeling for grace and beauty.
But that was not the reason. When these fore-
fathers of ours invented or borrowed their runes,
and later when they borrowed a true alphabet
from the Greeks, they cut their letters on sticks of
wood or on smooth lengths of bark. Most boys
know by experience how difficult it is to cut a
round o on a smooth stick on account of the grain
of the wood. This led to peculiar shapes in the
In the earliest known Runic alphabet, the letters
do not stand in the order of our letters; and they
differ so greatly in other ways from the ordinary
Greek alphabet, that it is probable they were bor-
rowed long before the Christian era, and afterward
became greatly changed. This Runic alphabet
was called the Futhorc," from the first six letters,
F, U, TH, 0, R, C.
h R r' The third rune, 1
(TH), which came
from the Greek A, delta, or D, survived in Eng-
lish literature until the last century, and is occa-
sionally used to-day when people wish to write in
an old-fashioned style. And they are apt to make
a curious mistake in its pronunciation. The rune
t remained in Irish and Anglo-Saxon for the sound
TH, and in English it was preserved longest in the
word "THE," because that word occurs very often,
and it was easier to write one letter than two. But


in the course of time it came to be mistaken for Y;
and although our ancestors knew better than to pro-
nounce it like Y, their descendants do not, but usu-
ally give this apparent Y the sound of the real Y,
making YE's out of all the THE's. They do not know


that this is a survival of a rune almost to the pres-
ent generation. The fifth rune of the futhorc is
our R, and the sixth is our K without the tail.
The Goths, Angles, and Scandinavians used twenty-
four such runes or closely similar letters. You
will notice that the Goth, like an unskillful school-
boy who carves his initials on wood, and is
bothered by the circle of the o, has solved the
difficulty by the bold move of cutting one
downward and two cross strokes. Sometimes,
however, the o was made by four strokes form-
ing a lozenge O. They usually cut their down
strokes across the grain; and they gave all
their cross lines a slant, in order not to bury
the point of the knife too deep, and splinter
the wood, in cutting with the grain. That is
the reason that the cross lines of the letters are
rarely horizontal. D
Some of our words that are in constant use
can be traced back to this period. The word
book was originally the same as the word beech, and
reminds us of the time when our forefathers carved
their records on beech-wood or beech-bark. The
similarity of the two words has remained much
closer in German; Buck (book) being almost ex-
actly the same as Buche (beech). To sing from a
stave is the same as to sing from a staff, because
in runic writing the old chants were noted down
with a knife on sticks or pieces of bark, and read

from these by the singers. The Ojibway Indians,
though they had not an alphabet like the runes,
until recently had similar staves which they
brought out when they chanted their songs; cer-
tain marks on the wood served to remind them of
what they were to sing.
You may remember my telling you how hard it
is to distinguish some of the letters of the Hebrew
alphabet from one another, and how the same
difficulty is experienced in the case of the Arabic
and Persian alphabets. This is due to various
reasons, among which was the employment by
those nations of pen, paper, and ink for perpetu-
ating records. This tended to make their writing
less and less easy to read; and as inscriptions on
stone were not common, people did not have
the ancient models of letters before their eyes
to refer to.
The capital letters of our own alphabet, however,
are easily distinguishable from one another. We
owe this fact largely to the Romans, a clear-headed,
practical people, who used for every-day writing
slates or boards covered with a thin film of wax, on
which the letters were engraved, or furrowed, by
a sharp-pointed instrument called a stylus, from
which we derive the term "style," in literature.
The yielding quality of the wax encouraged the
use of fine, open and legible characters, and the
Romans handed down to us an alphabet improved
in many ways.
But the most curious example of the modifying
influence of the writing materials upon the writing


is seen in the cuneiform characters. If, on a hot
summer's day, you should walk between the long
lines of bricks in one of the many brickyards that
line certain sections of the Hudson river, you
would find the fresh-made bricks quite soft, and
steaming under the direct rays of the sun. If
one of those soft bricks were given into your
hand and you were asked to draw a-rebus on
it, and given a nail with which to do it, you

This massive collar or bracelet, here reproduced from Mr. George Stephens's "Old Northern Runic Monuments," was made of twisted
gold, and was found at Buzeo, in Wallachia, upon the site, probably, of a heathen temple. The runic characters inscribed upon it mean
"dedicated to the temple of the Goths." This torque was worth nearly twenty thousand dollars.




would meet with this difficulty: If, in drawing the bets and syllabaries were invented in those old days.
outlines of your pictures, you should press equally It is rare, however, that one has been handed down,
along the whole length of every line, you would and only when the people for whom it was devised
raise small ridges on each side; or, as you became had a much poorer system or none at all.
more expert, one ridge on one side, as a plow does Sequoiah, an intelligent Cherokee Indian, con-
when drawing a furrow. And when you should trived more recently a syllabary of eighty-five
come to draw one line across another, there would signs, comprising all the sounds in his language,
be two ugly interfering ridges, using the English alphabet as a basis on which to
But if you should stop your cross line just
before you come to the other, and skip it, N
beginning again on the other side, your I
picture would be smoother and the surface
of the brick less uneven. You would suc-
ceed still better if you should not try to
draw continuous lines, but should indicate
them with a series of dotsA TREE ALPHABET.
them with a series of dots made by dab-

bing the soft brick with a corner of the iron nail.
Now, imagine the Hudson to be the Euphrates, and
yourself a Babylonian of ten thousand years ago,
and the nail a little, smooth, square-pointed piece
of copper, iron, tin, or silver, and the pictures con-
ventional signs representing the various sounds of
the language, and you would be writing cuneiform.
The old Babylonians, in writing, engraved soft
bricks with regular and evenly placed dabs. These
hardened quickly under the hot sun of Mesopo-
tamia, or were baked in ovens, and so preserved
the inscribed characters. Very often a
coat of soft clay was wrapped about the
original brick, and the same inscription
made on the outside. This was done to
prevent forgeries, and to make it easier
to restore the meaning, if part of the
brick were destroyed or lost. Whole /"
libraries of these strange books have \.
been found under the ruins of the pal-
aces of the old kings of Assyria. Still
other libraries are lying there waiting for
their discoverer.
Did you ever try to make an alphabet
of your own? I can distinctly remember SP
inventing one, with a favorite sister, when I was
about seven years old. Great was our diligence
while at work on it, and great was our secrecy!
We used to hide it away so carefully that it was
easy to forget about it for weeks at a time. We
never learned it well enough to write the simplest
sentences in it off-hand,--and for a very good
reason: We had too recently learned an alphabet
infinitely better than any that a child could think
out-one which had been tested and changed and
improved by ages of use. I do not doubt that
many other children have tried to construct pri-
vate systems of writing. It has never been un-
common for men to attempt to use secret alphabets.
In this respect, the ancient people of Asia some-
what resembled children ; and thousands of alpha-

form his characters. This syllabary is in use to-
day by the Cherokees, and books and newspapers
are printed in it. Botanists have given the name,
Sequoiah, to the gigantic trees of California, in
perpetual memory of his genius.
Long ago, when it was dangerous but very prof-
itable to be thought a wizard, it was customary for
any wise man who wished to be feared, and to
keep his wisdom confined to himself and a few
chosen disciples, to write his books in an alphabet
or cipher of his own invention. Generally he

3 CO 9OA _
took some existing alphabet as a foundation, and
made variations on it, somewhat as Sequoiah did.
I have in my possession a queer little treatise in
Arabic, which claims to have been written after a
labor of twenty years, and solemnly deposited in
the royal treasury, during the reign of a certain
Caliph who lived in Palestine more than one thou-
sand years ago. It professes to give a key to the
hieroglyphs of Egypt, but its greatest interest lies
in the fact that the author has here brought
together, in an amusing medley, all the alpha-
bets and ciphers that he has ever heard of; per-
haps some that he made up. Here in the upper
wood-cut, for example, is a curious tree alpha-
bet. The letters follow the regular order of the
Arabic alphabet, each letter varying from the


others by the arrangement ofthe bran
side or the other of the trunk. Placi
regular order with the corresponding A
underneath, the Arab had a simple c
the ordinary Oriental who only knows


ters could scarcely read without the ke
alphabet, as shown in the second
p. 773, is evidently based upon a pi
sun for aif, or A; while B, G, D, an
ing letters are made by varying the fir
Remember that these, being Asiatic al
written so as to be read from right to left
ters are here placed in reverse order to
our own alphabet from left to right. Th
tains also alphabets founded on the
moon, and on those for the planets, Jup
Mars, Mercury, and Venus. The on
this page is still another, which the
the "oldest Chaldean Alphabet." A
really trace a resemblance to Phoen
in some of these old signs. In fac
to invent fancy alphabets, as soon
of an alphabet is familiar to the mi

ches on one
ng these in
.rabic letters
ipher which

is not so easy to induce people to use them.
The alphabets actually used by the various nations
of the world have been brought to their present
state of perfection, as you have seen, by a slow

his own let- process of growth, one step at a time, and each
step the product of intense thought and
ingenuity. The Cherokee is an interest-
S7 ing exception to this rule. Of late cen-
turies, there have been few, almost no
improvements in our alphabet. This is
partly because it is so well adapted to our
< use, but principally because the invention
2 of printing has tended to fix the style of
printed type in one fashion. It is true
that when books were first printed in Eng-
r T land, the characters used were the indis-
Itinct so-called Gothic, or black-letter; but
'HABET. printers soon saw the advantages of the
later Italian, or Roman, styles, and have
y. Another kept to them ever since. The people of Germany
wood-cut on are troubled to-day with near-sightedness. It has
cture of the been claimed, with a great show of truth, that this
d the follow- is largely owing to the fact that the Germans still
st character. retain the old black-letter of the early Irish and the
phabets, are Anglo-Saxons. But every year the Germans are
; but the let- printing more and more books in Roman type, and
be read like for generations Roman type and Roman script have
is book con- been taught in their schools, together with the an-
signs for the gular Gothic.
iter, Saturn, Among the half-civilized nations which are now
.e shown on being taught our wisdom, many are learning to
author calls use our alphabet; and it seems almost certain that
nd one can in time the whole world, excepting perhaps the
ician letters Mohammedan nations, will express their thoughts
t, it is easy in our version of the letters that came down from
as the idea the Phenicians. What a glory for that strange old
nd; but it folk of the Mediterranean Sea !


BY I. D.

Now that Summer has just reached its mark,
And the schooling and fishing are done,
Come! To-morrow get up with the lark
(And you know she gets up with the sun) -
Come along! who would shirk or would shun
The game that is best of them all,
For glory and frolic and fun ?
So hurrah for the Bat and the Ball !

Yes, hurrah we '11 be first in the Park;
Our Nine will go up there as one,
Not to see all the beasts of the Ark,
Nor the birds, nor the beetles,-no fun! -
But around the green Diamond to run,
And the Red-stockings' hearts to appall.
And to show how a game may be won:
So hurrah for the Bat and the Ball!




We've a Catcher as keen as a shark,
For fouls-well he can't be outdone;
And our Batters could bat in the dark,
And our Pitcher knows every one
Of the curves" and the shoots"; not a run
Did he give those Red-stockings last Fall

In the champion match that we won.
So hurrah for the Bat and the Ball t

Jack, throw down your rod and your gun,
Let kite and top go to the wall,
Of good games there 's not more than one,
So hurrah for the Bat and the Ball!




THE cry of Man overboard! always has a
startling sound on an ocean vessel. In a naval
ship, such accidents, or emergencies, are provided
against in advance. Two boats, one on each side
of the ship, are kept ready for instant use, and are
equipped with everything necessary for a speedy
rescue, as well as an outfit, including provisions, for
a prolonged search in case immediate rescue is not
possible. Picked seamen in each "watch" are
assigned to special duty as a life-boat crew, and must
be readyto jump into theirboat at a moment's notice.
Some ships are provided with "life-buoys"-
queer-looking objects hanging from the stern.

In case of a man's falling overboard at night, one
of these life-buoys can be dropped into the water,
and lighted immediately, so that the poor fellow
can strike out for it at once and cling to it until
picked up.
Sometimes, however, the sea runs so high that
no small boat could be lowered without swamping
and perhaps drowning the entire crew. To decide
the question whether to attempt the rescue of a
poor fellow who has fallen overboard, at the risk
of losing others who might be sent to his aid, is
a fearful responsibility for a commanding officer,
and requires the coolest exercise of his judgment.


[A Story of the Maine Coast.]




WITH the first flush of dawn kindling the sky,
Perce Bucklin opened his eyes in great bewilder-
ment. But the sight of the sea, and the sand, and
his two companions still asleep under their blank-
ets, brought him quickly to his senses.
"'Wake Nicodemus'!" he shouted, giving each
a shake. The tide is up i the wind is all right,
and the kelp is landing Hurrah for the great
jubilee' "
Moke yawned a sleepy hurrah! while Poke,
sitting up and rubbing his eyes open, made some
complimentary reference to "Uncle Moses."
"Uncle Moses was right," Perce admitted.
" Now we must have breakfast and be ready for
work by the time the tide has gone down a little.
Start up the fire while I go and see to the oxen."
Rubbish had already been gathered, and left to
dry about their camp-fire of the evening before.
Moke produced some matches, while Poke pre-
pared a wisp of hay for lighting. And now, com-
pletely awake, both sang, while Perce was starting
"'Run and tell Elijah to hurry up Pomp,
And meet us at the gum-tree down in the swamp,
To wake Nicodemus to-day! "

The sun came up gloriously over the ocean. It
was a superb morning. The wind had gone down
during the night, and only a gentle breeze was
blowing. The receding tide left long rows and
scattered heaps of kelp, rockweed, and other algce
high on the beach.
The boys were in the gayest spirits. While the
oxen were still feeding, and the fire getting in
condition to roast corn and potatoes, Perce pro-
posed that they should make the most of their time
by gathering driftwood.
Then a question of equity arose. The twins
thought it fair that all they both secured should be
theirs; by which arrangement Perce could have
expected to get no more than half as much for his
But why not divide the floodwood the same as
we do the seaweed ? he demanded Half and

Because your oxen-- began Moke.
Don't help," added Poke.
But they 're here on your account as much as
they are on mine," said Perce. They 're giving
their valuable time all the same, whether they help
or not."
"All right what do you propose?" cried the
That we divide equally everything we find on
the beach-driftwood, seaweed, no matter what,"
Perce replied. Half for you two, and half for me
and the oxen."
The twins agreed good-naturedly, and all set
merrily to work. After gathering driftwood for
a while, they dug out a place in the hot coals, into
which they put their potatoes, wrapped in green
sea-moss, and left them to cook. Then the corn
was made ready and roasted on the ends of the
sticks that had served the same purpose the night
before, and at last came breakfast-which they ate
with such appetites as I fear some boys who read
this know nothing about.
Wont Oily be mad when he knows what he
has missed ? cried Perce.
They all had to speak loud, to be heard above
the sound of the surf.
"If he comes back by the coast-- said
We shall see him," said Poke. "I should think
it was time."
It's time to begin on the kelp Perce ex-
claimed, throwing away his last corn-cob, and
springing up from his seat on the sand.
The ox-cart was brought around, and halted
alongside the heaps of still dripping and glistening
seaweed. The larger part of this was kelp, and
the most valuable part in the estimation of farmers
who make use of these products of the sea to enrich
the land.
The kelp grows upon deep-sunken ledges, from
which it is detached only by the agitations of great
storms,- a weird sort of plant, which in still weather
may sometimes be seen, far down, waving mysteri-
ously, with every fluctuation of the tide, in the
silent ocean depths. It is often of gigantic pro-
portions, its slippery stems and great, glossy
leaves measuring many yards in length. It fre-
quently comes up with clusters of blue mussels and
other shells clinging to its roots.



With the kelp were mixed a tangled rockweed.
eel-grass, and Irish moss; all of which the boys
pitched on the cart together; Perce starting up
the oxen now and then and stopping them again
where the litter was thickest.
How 's this for a devil's apron ?" cried Poke,
struggling with an immense leaf of kelp, to which
he merely gave the picturesque, popular name; for
the twins were well-brought-up boys, who would
not for anything have uttered a profane word.
It flopped salt water in his face as he was getting
it on the cart; and then, as the oxen started for-
ward, trailed its smooth, wet, snaky stem along
the ground.

the wind blows off shore it blows the surface
water back; and that brings up the under-cur-
rent with the seaweed. That 's the way it is on
our beaches."
Moke and Poke knew the facts well enough;
but Perce, who prided himself on being a rather
intelligent boy, liked to explain things. He went
There's another thing you've noticed: how
much warmer the water is sometimes when there 's
a sea-breeze, than when it blows off the'land ; just
the contrary of what you would expect."
I guess every fellow who goes in swimming
much Moke began.


- - --u ^*y-'.
1 '

iI r

,II.~- p

-- ;

.-- --

-- S


It's ugly stuff to pitch," said Moke, twisting
the root in the tines of his fork to assist his brother.
It 's strange that it always lands against the
wind! said Poke.
"I don't see that it 's strange at all," replied
Perce. The only things that the wind from the
sea blows ashore are things afloat on the surface,
like driftwood. It blows the surface water too, but
that is all the time running back; and it carries
with it things below the surface."
Of course I know all about that! said Poke.
The under-tow," suggested Moke.
Well it 's the under-tow that lands the kelp,"
returned Perce. It works both ways. When

Has noticed that," Poke ended.
It 's because the sea-breeze is cooler than the
land-breeze," said Moke.
And that makes the water seem warm to you,"
said Poke.
There 's something besides that," Perce re-
plied. It's the surface water that is warmest;
and the sea-breeze keeps that rolling on the beach.
I'm speaking of sunny days; in cloudy weather
there is n't much difference. The sun warms the
sand, and the sand warms the water. But a land-
breeze blows it off, and brings up the cold under-
current. Think of that the next time you go in
swimming, and see if it is n't so."


'I I

': I


The twins thought it strange he should know so
much, as he had no Uncle Moses; he did n't tell
them he had got his lore from his father, who was
one of the most intelligent farmers on the coast.
I should n't like to go in swimming here now!"
said Poke, turning to look at the waves, still dark
with rolling seaweed and sand.
It's wonderful," said Perce, "how pure the
ocean keeps, with all the dirt and things forever
washing into it,- though it is n't always so pure
as it look. Don't you know that fishermen have
to take up their gill-nets and dry 'em about every
four days ? "
That 's to keep 'em from rotting," said the
But what makes them rot? returned Perce.
" It is n't the water; it 's what's in the water."
The slime," said Moke.
"They come up all covered with slime," said
That slime," Perce replied, "is all a kind of
life. Drying kills it. But if the nets are left long
in the water, it grows, and takes the life out of
'em; that 's what you call rotting. In a few days
you can see fine green grass growing all over tihe
twine. Then, how quick the bottom of a boat, or
a rope left in the water, or a sunken anchor, gets
coated with barnacles The clearest sea water is
swarming alive with things you can't see "



THE boys worked well while they talked; and
often the cart went with its shaggy and dripping
load to the two piles of seaweed they were deposit-
ing high on the shore.
Have you thought, boys," said Perce, as he
backed the cart around, after one of these short
trips; it 's just along here somewhere that the
body of the old lobsterman came ashore, after the
gale three years ago ? "
All stopped to look at the tumbling breakers,
still casting up their burden of kelp.
"The storm caught him when he was out,"
continued Perce; "but nobody ever knew whether
he got capsized pulling his lobster-pots, or trying
to land afterward. His boat was found stove to
pieces on the rocks the next morning, but he
was n't found for several days. Then, was n't it
dreadful? Two men discovered him, when they
were loading kelp 1"
The boys worked for some time in silence, and
then the conversation turned upon wrecks and ac-
cidents at sea, until the cart-box was once more
filled with its heaping load.

This time the twins went with the oxen to dump
it, while Perce stood leaning on his fork, looking
down at the last marks of the receding tide, left in
wavy lines along the sand.
Where some jags of seaweed had just been
thrown up, these lines disappeared, giving place to
little straight channels cut by the water dripping
from them and running back to catch the retreat-
ing waves. He was curiously watching these
effects, and throwing up some straggling stems
of kelp with his fork, when he stopped suddenly
with a start of surprise. Something brighter than
the glistening golden-green leaves and stems had
caught his eye. It was in the midst of a heap
which had hardly yet landed, and which seemed
ready to slide back into the sea with the next
wave. He thrust in his fork to hold it; and,
stooping, saw that the object was a bit of shining
Gold!" he exclaimed gleefully.
He took hold of it, but found that it did not come
so easily out of the mingled mass of kelp and rock-
weed as he had anticipated. He pinched it firmly,
pushing back some clustering pods of rockweed,
and gave it a gentle pull.
"A gold chain he exclaimed in the greatest
He had at first seen and touched only the end of
the chain. But now he drew and drew, removing
the soft, slimy incumbrance with his other hand,
when up came, dangling before his eyes in the
sun, a beautiful gold watch.
Perce Bucklin's first impulse was to shout to his
companions and hold up the prize for them to see;
but that natural movement was checked by a more
selfish consideration.
He was too honest a boy to wish to possess
anything that did not truly belong to him. But
suppose the owner of the watch should never
appear? It might have been lost at sea, in the
late storm; or possibly, before that, it slipped from
the pocket of some voyager on yacht or ship, who
would never pass that way again. Indeed, it
might have been dropped overboard miles from
that spot, and have been brought ashore by the
kelp in which the chain was entangled.
If unclaimed, who would have a better right to
it than the finder? But then Perce remembered
the unlucky agreement by which everything they
found that day on the beach was to be divided
between him and the twins. To be sure, that was
meant to apply principally to seaweed and drift-
wood; of course, it did n't include watches! That
seemed very plain to Percival Bucklin. Yet, the
twins might think different. It would be absurd,
but who could tell what self-interest might impel
them to do?




It was this fear that prompted Perce to resolve
upon a very foolish thing. He glanced around,
and seeing that the twins had just dumped their
load, and were lifting the cart-box back into its
place, having quite too much to attend, to at the
moment to be observing him, he slipped watch
and chain into his trousers-pocket. It had a
hunter's case, which, if it had so far kept it from
being broken, would probably preserve it still.
I wont tell them," he said to himself, "'till
I 've had a little time to think."
He was much excited; and if the twins had had
keen eyes for anything that was n't lying on the
beach, they must have noticed, when they re-
turned, that something had happened to him in
their absence.
He fell to pitching kelp again, but his talk was
fitful and absent-minded. He was all the while
thinking of what he had found, and instinctively
looking for more watches and other valuables in
the seaweed.
He also thought of something he would n't have
liked so well to find. The loser of the watch
might have lost himself with it; and perhaps he,
too, like the old lobsterman, had come ashore in a
shroud of kelp.



PERCE'S eyes wandered up and down the beach,
and finally, with thoughts of shipwreck, he stood
leaning on his fork and gazed abstractedly out to
What 's the matter with you?" cried Moke.
Why don't you start up the team ?" demanded
Poke. "We're waiting "
Perce left his fork sticking in the sand, and
starting suddenly, with his face turned toward the
sea, uttered an exclamation :
My gracious, boys 1 Look! "
Where ? What ? cried the twins.
"On the 'Old Cow! There 's somebody
there "
That 's nothing strange," Moke replied.
Some fisherman," Poke added.
They took the discovery coolly, not having
Perce's reason for attaching to it a tragical impor-
"It 's no fisherman! he exclaimed. See! he
is making some sort of signal And he added,
in great excitement, "It's somebody cast away
on the rock! There 's been a wreck, boys!
There 's been a wreck! "
He was so certain of this that he would have
told them then and there what he had found on

the beach, but for the awkwardness of explaining
why he had previously concealed it. And, after
all, he reflected, the castaway if such indeed he
was might not be the loser of the watch.
Without producing that evidence, he soon con-
vinced his companions that there had been some
sort of.disaster off the coast, and that the move-
ments they saw on the Old Cow's" back were
signals of distress.
"He has a board or something in his hand,
and he is beckoning with it cried Perce. He
would n't be waving it that way if he was n't in
trouble! "
I don't see what we can do," said Moke.
He can't be in any great danger," added
"But he may have been there all night; we
don't know what condition he is in Perce re-
plied. "We can give the alarm, and, may be, go
for him ourselves, if nobody else will."
The twins did n't see how they could afford to
leave their work. There was another cart already
at the other end of the beach, and more kelp-
gatherers would probably be coming soon. They
did n't fancy the idea of giving up the advantage
gained by spending the night on the shore and be-
ginning work in the morning before anybody else
But, though Perce could do a rather under-
hand thing in keeping the watch from them, he
was n't a boy to let that or any other selfish con-
sideration prevent him from attempting the rescue
of a person in distress.
"Besides," he said, "it may be somebody we
know. Don't you remember when that man was
seen clinging to the rigging of the wreck off Rocky
Shoals, Tom Bowers was one of the men that vol-
unteered to launch a boat and try to take him off.
Tom's mother said all she could to prevent him, for
there was a tremendous sea running, but he went;
and the man turned out to be his own father-her
own husband and the only one saved from the
The twins remarked that it was n't any father of
theirs on the Old Cow's back, at that time in
the morning, very sure And they were reluctant
to have their rich harvest of seaweed interrupted.
Yet they thought something ought to be done.
Call out and tell old Homans," they said.
Old Homans was the man who had come
on at the other end of the beach with his cart.
But Perce did n't see what he could do.
He might do what we do; then he wont be
getting seaweed while we're off," said the twins.
Well, you can tell him while I run up to the
boarding-house," cried Perce. Here 's a boat;
I '11 get oars, and, may be, some men to help."



Old Homans did n't take much interest in the
report the twins brought him of a human being
on the lonely outlying ledge.
Big ninny He 's no business to be there "
he exclaimed.
He spent but little time in trying to concentrate
his imperfect eyesight upon the figure they de-
I can't make out any human critter, nor any
critter," he said, and turned again to forking sea-
weed. If you see anybody, better find a boat
and pull out, and see what simpleton it is, and
what in the world he 's there fur."

driftwood a strip of board that would do to steer
Then the boat was shoved into the surf. The
twins scrambled aboard and took the oars, ready
to pull the moment Perce gave the word.
Now he cried; and, pushing the dory over
the next wave, at the same time he leaped into
the stern.
The oars dipped and bent; he assisted with his
strip of board; and the skiff reared and pitched
on the breakers, cheered by the ladies from the
boarding-house, who had hastened down to the
beach to see them off.

- '---.5

,*j^' ',


The twins returned to their own ox-cart; and
soon Perce came running with a pair of oars.
"Here are oars," he said. "But there are no
men at the house. They went off in the yacht
Susette yesterday, and have n't been heard from.
And Oily has n't got back, though Mrs. Murcher
says he ought to have come an hour ago."
May be it 's the yacht that 's been wrecked,"
suggested the twins.
She 's afraid it is; and the ladies are all
excited about it. I tried to get a spy-glass to look
through; one of the men owns one, they said, but
he must have taken it with him."
The boys turned the oxen about, and left them
eating the hay that had served for a bed the night
before. Then they dragged the dory down from
beside the bathing-houses, and got it ready to
launch. Perce took the precaution to put on board
some provisions, and selected from the piles of

The twins, having embarked in the adventure,
were now almost as enthusiastic as Perce himself.
The wind was light, the morning sun sparkled
on the waves, and the dory went dashing over
them as if rowed for a race.
The tide had not yet fallen much, and the ocean
swells broke in a field of white foam completely
over the "Calf's" back, while the tail wagged up
and down. But the Old Cow was clear above
the line of surf about her flanks ; and there, on the
highest hummock, stood the castaway, now more
distinctly discernible as the distance between him
and his rescuers diminished.
The boys made many conjectures as to who he
could be and what had become of the wreck, no
vestige of which could be seen.
He has on a white yachting-cap exclaimed
Perce; and that confirmed them in the opinion
that the Susette had gone to pieces on the



- C


ledge. The castaway had ceased to wave the
object which had first attracted Perce's attention,
but every now and then he threw up both arms,
as be stood facing them on the solitary rock, and
made encouraging signals.
The Cow and the Calf" are much farther
from the coast than they look to be in clear
weather. Perce took his turn at the oars, and all
worked heroically; yet it seemed a long while be-
fore they came within hail of the Crusoe of that
small rocky island.



LET us take advantage of this lapse of time to
go back a little and see what had become of Oily
The salt water and the barnacles told but too
true a tale : he had been thrown upon the lesser
rock, which the next tide would submerge.
If he had still any doubt of that terrible fact, it
must have been dispelled when the moon rose
amid broken clouds and showed him the "Calfs
tail churning the waves at the end of his surf-
fringed reef; also the glimmering back of the "Old
Cow," with its encircling surge, a furlong or more
to the south.
An old, sad moon it was, with a distorted, mel-
ancholy face peering above the illimitable desola-
tion of waters ; yet a welcome sight to the drenched
and shivering castaway, waiting on his lonely ledge
for the tide to return and cover it. No wonder it
appeared to him not the cheerful orb he knew,
but some ancient, decayed satellite coming to look
for the last time on a lost world !
After his long labor with his rude paddle, and
the effort it had cost to swim to the rock and
scramble out upon it, he was nearly exhausted; and
the discovery of barnacles in the pool had quenched
what remained of his courage. There was no
shelter from the wind; and in his wet clothes he
felt a deadly chill striking to his bones.
Then followed another discovery, which did not
tend to restore his spirits.
He had from the first given up the boat as lost.
It had disappeared in the dark and turbulent water
almost as soon as he left it; nor could he see any-
thing of it afterward.
It was an old dory that had been hired for the
season by one of Mrs. Murcher's boarders. Olly
had taken that, too, without leave ; but it was the
custom on the coast for people to make rather
free use of any boats that came in their way. With
it had gone his sole means of escape from certain
death; otherwise he would have cared little for the

In his fearful anxiety about his own safety, he
had thought little even of the safety of the watch.
He hated the recollection of it; for, probably, if
it had not been for that, it might never have oc-
curred to him to row out from shore in order to get
a sight of the returning yacht, around the point.
After the moon rose, he looked across the tumbling
billows at the Old Cow wallowing in their froth,
and felt that his salvation lay in reaching that
before the rising tide should sweep him from the
" Calf." Yet, how was that possible? The very
thought of swimming so far, alone in the night, in
the wild ocean, was frightful to him. Yet as a last
resort he might be driven to make so desperate an
As for the water, it could hardly seem colder
than the wind that pierced his drenched clothes.
He no longer thought of any injury to them-the
stylish suit that had been a delight to his soul a few
hours before He wept with despair as he thought
of the joy that had turned to such bitter woe; and
he wished he had never seen the giver or his gift.
Salt water might ruin the watch; but, if so, that
was probably ruined already. At all events, it was
past being returned to its case in Mr. Hatville's
room, without that gentleman's knowledge of its
having been removed.
Past, indeed Thinking of it, Oily put up his
hand to his pocket. It gave him a start of fresh
terror, even in his utter misery and wretchedness,
to find it empty.
The watch was gone! That was his last dis-
heartening discovery.
How long it had been gone he had not the
slightest means of knowing. His teeth chattered,
and he trembled from head to foot, as he hurriedly
searched his clothing for the timepiece, but in vain.
He at first believed that he had lost it in his
struggle between the boat and the ledge; for he
remembered having looked down and seen the
golden glitter of the seal, not long after he went
adrift. But now the moonlight disclosed the seal
still hanging by the hook in his button-hole. The
guard had been broken, and everything, excepting
the seal and a few dangling links, had gone with
the watch.
He concluded that he must have lost it when he
had his first tumble in the boat. The oar, when it
struck his breast, and flew from his hand, had doubt-
less caught in the chain, and snatched the watch
from his pocket. Of course he could n't know
that this was so; but if he had foreseen what
Perce Bucklin was to find on the beach a few hours
later, he would have argued that no watch could
have been conveyed so far, in so short a time, by
waves or tide.
However it might have happened, it was hope-


lessly gone; and now, in his enfeebled, frightened
state, he began to consider how he should escape
the suspicion of having stolen it, if ever his body
reached the shore alive or dead.
Nobody knows I had it," he said miserably
to himself. "And why should anybody ever
He unhooked what was left of the guard, and
held it, with the seal, for a moment in his shaking
fingers, considering whether he should destroy that
evidence against him by flinging it into the sea.
But he could hardly make up his mind to cast
away irrevocably what might prove of value, should
the watch and the rest of the guard be found.
That might still be possible, he reasoned; and, after
a few minutes of sickening doubt and hesitation,
he put the shining trinkets into his pocket. Even
as he did so, he went about mechanically search-
ing for what he had hardly the faintest expectation
of finding. Who that has ever lost a prized object
has not done the same ?-looking again and again
in places where a superstitious hope whispers that
it may be mysteriously lurking.
He felt sure that it could not, without his
knowledge, have dropped from his pocket when
he had stooped over the pool to grope for barna-
cles; and even if it had, the moonlight must show
so bright an object shining in the shallow bot-
tom. Yet he explored it carefully with his hands,
and went back and explored it again, after exam-
ining other parts of the ledge.
But why be so anxious about the watch, when
he was in despair of saving his own life? He said
that to himself, as he searched every crevice and
hollow of the slope where he had crawled out of
the sea.
It was fortunate that he had something thus
to engage his wretched thoughts and benumbed
hands. And a still better employment awaited
He had some time before heard a strange
thumping and grinding sound, which he supposed
must be caused by the motion of the "Calf's
The hunt for the watch had kept him from in-
vestigating it. But now that very search led him
to make a different, but even more welcome dis-
The side where he had landed was in shadow.
As he followed it around, just out of reach of the
waves, he saw to his great joy something rising
and falling in the black seaweed that grew below
the gray girdle of barnacles, and bumping on the
reef. It was his boat, which the wind had blown

against the little island, and lodged not far from
the "Calf's tail."
It was lying on its side, and a heave of the sea
threw up the dark gunwale into the moonlight
that slanted across the surf-vexed end of the
island. As the wave drew back, sucking heavily
along with it the somber fringe of rockweed, Olly
stepped cautiously down on this slippery footing,
and, seizing the rail of the dory, held it fast. Then
with the next swell he lifted the end upon the bar-
nacled rocks and held it again, while its heavy
freight of waterspilled out over the side into the sea.
Getting hold of the painter, he now had the
boat safe, and, by a little management, he was
able to haul it higher up the slope and tip the rest
of the water out. The exertion warmed him, and
success gave him new courage.
True, he had no oars, and the thwart he had
used for a paddle was lost. But there was a
second thwart which he could detach. The dory
appeared little the worse for the rough usage it
had received, and he did not doubt but it would
prove seaworthy when it should become necessary
for him to intrust his life to it, in escaping from
the rock.
That might be some time yet, for it was now low
water. With the turning of the tide, the wind might
change or go down; and it would probably be near
daylight before the "Calf" would be submerged.
The trouble will be," he reflected, to get
the dory upon that highest part."
That was something more for him to do. He
worked it along inch by inch, pulling seaweed
from the rocks to put under it in order to make it
slide easily over the barnacles.
But this device came near causing him a sad
accident. Once, when he released his hold of the
boat to take breath after violently lifting, it broke
away from him and started back down the descent,
which the seaweed he had placed there made
slippery. He sprang to seize the painter, which
was dragging on the rocks, but it pulled him
after, and boy and boat barely escaped plunging
together into the brine.
As it was, though, he arrested its progress just
as it struck a billow. He was compelled once
more to tip it over -for he had no other means
of getting the water out-and then to perform
over again the labor of lifting it up the ledge.
But this was, perhaps, a fortunate accident,
since it kept him in exercise until he felt that his
clothes were getting dry. And it showed him,
besides, the danger that would attend the final
launching of the dory.

(To be continued.)






ERHAPS you have never heard of
a yacht-race ashore, yet that
term might almost be applied
-l to this picturesque game, which
will be found not only exciting,
but a source of great fun. It
can be played out-of-doors on
the lawn or in a large room.
Two players are required for
T i each "yacht"- the "cap-
tain," who directs the course
of the vessel, and the "crew," who carries the
boat in his cap or helmet," and obeys the orders
of the captain.
To play the game, it is first necessary to lay out
the course on the lawn or the floor, which rep-
resents the sheet of water that is to be the scene
of the regatta. Any convenient objects can be
taken for the "stake-boats" and "turning-buoy,"
and the course can be made as difficult as desired
by placing obstacles, such as chairs, boxes, or
cushions, in the way, to represent "rocks,"
"reefs," "shoals," and "islands." The crews
that are to compete are first allowed to sail over
the course to inspect it, and are then drawn up in
line at the start, where each puts on his yacht-
rig," and is carefully blindfolded by the captain of
a rival yacht. At the "first gun," or signal to
make ready, each crew turns around three times.
At the "second gun," or signal to start, they all
proceed, under command of their respective cap-
tains, to go over the course, keeping always in
"deep water" and avoiding the reefs and other
obstacles, around the turning-buoy, and back to
the starting-point. The yacht which is the first to
come in wins the race.
A captain must always address his crew by the
name of his yacht, and must give his orders in
nautical terms. If he fail to do so, his yacht must
stop, and turn once around before going on. The
same penalty is exacted if the crew does not under-
stand an order and asks for an explanation; and
also whenever, through the unskillful manage-
ment of the captain or the poor sailing of the crew,
the yacht runs into any of the obstacles or into
one of the other yachts.
Of course, unless the players know how to sail
real boats, the orders will often be very ridiculous ;
but as long as they are given in nautical language,

and the crew understands what they mean, it
makes no difference, except to add to the fun.
For instance, let us imagine the Genesta to be
racing the Puritan. The orders might sound
something like this:
Steady, Genesta, steady from the captain
of the English cutter.
Keep her off about two points to starboard,
Puritan-steady 1" from the American skipper.
But such a command as Hard a-port, Genesta
-no, no, the other way, you goose "would com-
pel the captain of that craft to stop his yacht and
make it turn once around; while, if on receiv-
ing the order, "Shake out a reef, Puritan, and
head her nor'-nor'east! the crew should ask,
"Oh, I say, Billy, what do you mean by 'shake
out a reef'?" or 'Which direction is nor'-nor'-
east'?" then the Puritan would have to stop and
turn around. And if the captain of the Genesta,
wishing to take advantage of his rival's set-back,
should exclaim, "Now, Sam, let her go!" the
English boat would have to pay the same penalty.
Many modifications of this game will naturally
suggest themselves to those who understand sail-
ing. The sport can be made much more difficult
and interesting by supposing the wind to blow
directly up the course, so that the yachts will have
to beat down to the turning-buoy and then come
home before the wind. When the game is played
out-of-doors and there is a breeze blowing, a great
deal of skill and ingenuity can be exercised in
keeping the yachts in the courses they would have
to take if they were actually propelled by the wind.
The nattiest yacht-rig is made of a square piece
of cardboard that will go just around the head of the
crew. The two edges are then stitched together to
form a helmet," like a high hat without crown or
brim. Two notches should be cut in the top of the
helmet, as shown in Fig. I, to receive the hull of a
small toy yacht, such as can be bought cheaply at
any toy shop. The yacht is held in place by lash-
ings passing through holes made in the helmet.
Strings should be fastened to the sides of the hel-
met to tie under the chin, and a curtain of some
thick, close material may be sewed on in front, as
a blindfold. The cardboard should be colored
blue to represent waves; but the curtain, flags,
and strings should be of some distinctive tint, so
that each vessel can sail under its own colors.


A simpler form of yacht-rig (Fig. 2) consists of
a roll of cloth about twenty inches long, the ends
,of which are sewed together, forming a ring-
shaped pad to rest upon the head. The yacht, a
home-made affair, cut out of a shingle or a piece
of board, is fastened upon the pad. This helmet
also has the blindfold, and strings to tie under
the chin. A third style of helmet (Fig. 3) was once
formed by scooping out the end of a watermelon to

fit the crew's head, and rigging it up with a twig
mast and abrown-paper sail. It was cheap, ingen-
ious, and uncomfortable, and is not recommended.
There is a fourth and entirely different rig, which
consists in fastening the sails directly to the crew's
body. (See Fig. 4.) The spars -boom, sprit, and
bowsprit-are of wood, shaped as in A, and are
fastened to the body by strings run through holes
in the broad ends. The sails should be attached
to the spars as in real boats. A small flagstaff in
the front of the cap bears the pennant, and com-
pletes the rig.

For the benefit of those who are not familiar
with sea terms, a few of the more common direc-
tions used in this game of Regatta are here given
with their explanations:
Port" means the left side of the yacht. Star-
board" means the right side. To "luff" means
to bring the yacht so that it will point more toward
the direction from which the wind is blowing.
To "luff a-lee" is to point the yacht directly

at the wind, in the "wind's eye." To "tack" is
to change the course of the yacht so that it receives
the wind on the other side. The maneuver is
accomplished by "luffing a-lee," and keeping on
until the yacht presents its other side to the wind.
To fall off" is the opposite of to "luff." Ex-
perienced yachtsmen will know and use many
other terms, but these are sufficient for conduct-
ing a game. Stories and books about the sea will
suggest other useful words, and any one who
plays the game often will soon gain an ample




T'pi (fs)

A' i.
I~i rlI ?~be 4



-,. i t -- ,-_. ,=.:
.= --,- '_ .' I

...I : -^s ^ I I -'- -' -

< '.- -~i _....=-- -- : .4 :

There once was an Untaugh't Sea-Urchin
-.A7kho said that, 'or years he'd been searchjn'

FTo a place in the sea
Where e quiet co'i be .,
:"- ,T ihe waves kept In itci:hi, .c j lu-clh-,
"11 =-:



AT the telegraph poles Grace was looking,
When she solemnly said: "I think
Those little glass things are the bottles
That hold all the telegraph ink."
VOL. XIII.-50.








THERE are many things you boys can do with
a rope, if you only know how. Let an old sailor
spin you a yarn or two.


IF you wish to put up a swing, to make a lasso,
to fasten a rope to your sled, or if you live on a
farm and desire to make a halter or a hay-rope,
you should know how to make an "eye-splice."
The tools you will need are a hammer and a
marline-spike. A sailor's marline-spike is made of
iron, and is about six inches long, like that in Fig.
I; but you can easily whittle from a bit of any
hard wood a peg that will answer the purpose of a
To begin the splice, take a small rope, like a
clothes-line (if possible, a new one in which the
strands are unworn), and first untwist, or, as we
sailors say, unlay, about four inches of it. Then
wind thread tightly around the end of each strand
to keep it in shape. Next bend the rope around
into a loop of any size desired, letting the loose
strands or cords cross on the upper side and project
beyond the rope. Be sure that, as you hold the loop
toward you, the rope bends toward the right.
At the point of crossing, twist the solid or
"standing" part of the rope the wrong way, so
as to open it a little, and thrust the spike in be-
tween the strands, pushing it in until the strands
are well apart. Now draw the spike out and put
the end of the first loose strand into the enlarged
opening. To do this easily you should insert the
spike with its point toward the loose ends, so that,
as you draw it out, you can follow it closely with
the first end before the separated strands close.
Draw the end up tight, as shown in the cut. Then

c- .

take the spike and separate the next strand in the
rope from the others, and insert the second loose
end in the same way, and similarly place the third

end under the third strand of the rope. At this
stage, your splice will look like Fig. I, and a little
study of that diagram will show you, better than I
can tell you, just how to insert the strands.
Continue the work, by passing the first end over
one strand and under the next, and do the same
with the second and third ends.
When each end has been woven in twice, take off
the thread from the ends and cut about a third from
the under side of each one, making it that, much
thinner than before. Bind the ends again with
the thread, and weave each one under another
strand of the rope. Again take off the thread and
cut off half of what remains from the under side
of each of the loose ends; replace the thread,
weave under again, draw each end up tightly, and
cut it off close to the rope. If you have carefully
followed the directions, each end will pass over and
under the strands alternately, and no two ends
next each other will pass under the same strand.
You must always remember, in working with a
rope, to twist every strand hard and tight, and to
draw it snugly to place. And in making a splice,
the rope should be pounded frequently with the
hammer or a piece of wood, and rolled back and
forth under your foot. This operation makes the
strands sink into one another and look smooth
and even.
Another splice, quite as useful as the one just
described, is that by which the ends of two ropes
are joined so firmly that they form one continuous
rope. There are two forms of it, one called the
"short splice," and the other the "long splice."
The short splice, is more often used, because it is
quickly made, it does not waste much of the rope,
and it is nearly as strong as the long splice. There
is one objection to it: It makes part of the rope
somewhat larger than the rest, so that it can not
be run through a narrow pulley-block. The long
splice, on the other hand, though using much
more material, may be made without increasing
the size of the rope at any point, and is, in fact,
somewhat stronger.
To make the short splice, first untwistabout eight
inches of each of the two ends you wish to join,
and bring them together in such a way that the
ends of the untwisted parts are squarely and closely
against each other as though they were one rope,




while the six loose strands stand out all around,
each one of the right-hand strands being between
two of those on the left hand, or interlocked.
Now what you are to do is to weave the loos-
ened strands of the right-hand rope into the un-
twisted rope of the left side, and the loosened
strands of that rope into the solid part of the right-
hand rope. To hold the two ends in place while
you work, begin by drawing all three of the left-
hand strands down over the right-hand rope, and
tie them there with a piece of cord.
Now weave the three loose strands into the solid
rope by the help of the spike, just as you did in
making the eye-splice. When you have finished
this side, untie the twine and weave the loose
strands into the left-hand rope in the same man-
ner. The directions given for making the eye-
splice apply also to this splice. It must be well
pounded and twisted back and forth until the ends

< i -.<


work into the strands and it is smooth and firm;
and this splice, too, will look better if part of
the rope-yarns are cut off before weaving in the
last time, but if you are not particular you may
cut the ends off just as they are left in Fig. 2.
To help you to see how the ends go under and
over the strands of the rope, each one is marked
in Fig. 2 with a different line of dots and dashes,
and, by following any one line, you will learn
exactly where that one strand passes in and out.
The long splice, though a little more trouble
than the short splice, makes a much neater join-
ing. For this splice, you must untwist three feet of
one end of each rope and bring the two closely to-
gether as in making a short splice, with the loose
ends interlocked. Next take one of the strands
of the right-hand side and untwist it, or separate
it from the rope an inch or two, and into the space
it leaves vacant lay one of the loose ends from
the other side. (By "laying" 1 mean twisting the
strand tightly and pressing it into place.) Go on
in this way, untwisting the strand from one side
and laying in its place the strand from the other



side, until the latter has only about eight inches
free, while the one you have been untwisting has

nearly six feet free. What you have now done
is merely replacing a strand belonging to one
rope by a strand from the other. Do the same
thing on the other side; that is, untwist one of
the strands of the left-hand rope and twist into its
place a loose strand from the right-hand rope.
When you have done this, your splice will look like
Fig. 3, the six untwisted strands ending in pairs
in three places. The pair in the middle will be
three feet long each; while at the ends there will
be one long and one short strand, although, as
seen in Fig. 3, they all must be cut off short for
the next operation.
This consists in weaving the ends in, and it is done
by forcing the spike under the strand next to the
end you wish to weave in, passing the end through
the opening, then over the next strand, and under
the third, which you
have opened in the same -
way. Now cut off a por- .*-
tion from the under side
thestrand, passitover FIG. 4.-A LONG SPLICE FINISHED.
of the strand, pass it over
and under once more, and cut off closely. Repeat
this with the second strand of the pair, and your
joining will look like Fig. 4, which represents a
long splice finished. This figure, of course, shows
only one woven-in end, the other being on the
opposite side.
Having thus disposed of one pair of the loose
ends, treat the other two pairs in the same way.
Notice that the strands are nowhere turned back
on themselves, but that they always work on in
the same way they started; that is, those which
turned out from the middle turn out to the end,
while those that turned toward the middle (or those
you untwisted to make place for the others) still
turn toward the center, as they began.


THE first thing a boy learns when he goes to
sea is to make braid, or, in sailors' talk, "sen-
nit," and I think land boys will find it very con-

venient to know a few of
the different kinds in use.
All boys wish to make
whip-lashes or to swing
hammocks; and for those
of you who own sail-boats,
or even row-boats, there
are endless uses for these


braids. Fenders to protect the sides of boats from
injury are best made from a short, thick piece of
sennit; and many boats have a guard, made of
about seven large strands, like Fig. 5, running all
around just under the gunwale.
On a ship these braids are used to wrap around




parts of the rigging, to keep them from chafing,
so they are called chafing-gear." And the sail-
ors make it by the barrelful, so that it will be on
hand when needed.
In beginning a braid, tie a string around one
end of the strands and fasten it to any convenient
object, such as a hook in the wall or a door-knob,
in order to keep the braid taut, as it is very impor-
tant to draw the strands up snug and even every
time. The simplest kind of sennit may be made
of any uneven number of strands. It is shown in
Fig. 5.
To begin, take five strands and separate them,
holding three in the right hand and two in the
left. First take the outside strand of the three in
the right hand, pass it over the two next it, and
lay it inside the two in the left hand. Now you
have three in the left hand. Then take the out-
side strand of the three in the left hand, pass it
over the two next it, and lay it inside of the two
in the right hand. So you go on, always taking
the outside strand from the side which has three
together, passing it over its two neighbors, and
laying it inside the two in the other hand. It is
very easy, you see, and you will soon have a


piece like that in the figure, in which the outside
strand from the left side has just been laid over
inside of the right. You can make this kind of
braid of any uneven number of strands, and the
only rule is always to bring the one from the out-
side of the greater number over all its neighbors
to the inside of the smaller number.
To make a whip-lash, you should try a braid like
that shown in Fig. 6, which is a round sennit. The
one in the drawing is made of large round strands
to show the braid better; but for a lash you should
take flat strips of leather, and taper them to make
your lash the proper shape.
This braid is made of four strands. Take two
in each hand, pass the outside strand in the right
hand under its neighbor and also under the inside
strand in the left hand. Bring it up between the
two in the left, and lay it over the inside strand
next to it, placing it at last beside the one strand
in the right hand, only inside of it instead of out-
side, where it was first. Do the same with the
outside strand of the left hand; that is, pass it

under the one next to it and the inside one of
the right hand, bringing it up between the two
in the right, turning it over the inside one, and
laying it next to the one remaining in the left
hand, on the inside. Keep on doing this and you
will notice that the same two strands always stay
in the same hand, but each turn of one interlocks
it through the two in the other hand.
In Fig. 6 the outside strand on the right side
has just been passed under and up between the
two on the left side, over the inside one of the left
and beside the strand on the right.
This method of braiding is pretty to use in cov-
ering many things, round, square, or tapering.
Even a turned vase and many articles of varying
shape may be covered by it. Where the object
is wide the strands cross each other at a wide
angle, and where narrow, run more nearly parallel
to the object, but in every case it is covered.
Some very pretty things are made with this braid.
For a flat braid, which, when made of rope-
yarns or cord, is very nice for a dog or goat har-
ness, you will need the "French" sennit shown
in Fig. 7. At sea, it is sometimes made eight or
ten inches wide, and half an inch thick; but you
will not need it so heavy. To begin, take nine
strands as in the figure, though it may be made
of any other number.
First spread the
strands out flat,take
the middle one (in
this case, No. 5),
bend it to the right
and over No. 4, '
which is bent to the 2 "'"
left. Take No. 6,
bend it to the right, FIG. 7.-THE FRENCH SENNIT.
and under No. 4.
Take No. 3, bend it to the left, over No. 5, and
under No. 6. Take No. 7, bend it to the right,
over No. 4, and under No. 3. Take No. 2, bend
to the left, under No. 5, over No. 6, and under
No. 7. Continue in this way until all the strands
are in. Then take No. 5, which, you remember,
was bent to the right, and now occupies the out-
side place on that side, bend it up and over No. 6,
which is next it, and then braid it in alternately
over and under just as before. Braid in the out-
side strand from the left side in the same manner.
Go on in this way, and the braid will look like
Fig. 7. So many directions make it seem hard:
but when you try it with the figure before you,
you will find it very easy. If the braid is made
from an even number of strands, as in Fig. 8, the
strands will begin on both sides by turning over;
but if the number is uneven, as in Fig. 7, the
strands on one side will begin by turning under.



Be careful to draw the strands even and snug.
This braid has one great advantage over others.
It may be split into two or more narrower braids,
as you see in Fig. 8, and afterward braided to-
gether again, leaving an open loop, or a sort of
button-hole. A glance at Fig. 8 will show you

FIG. .
k 4

just how this
is accomplish-
ed, and that it
is an easy task.
In a navy
hammock, the
cords which
support the
body are wov en

into a flat braid which starts with two or three
strands and has the others gradually woven in,
two at a time, one on each side. This finishes
it off very neatly, and keeps the cords from tan-
gling, and is a great improvement on simply
putting the cords through the ring, which has a
bungling appearance, as they are generally in a
snarl. This braid may be more easily made by
"putting the cart before the horse"; that is, by
beginning at what is apparently the wrong end.
Take the cords double length, and draw them all
through the ring, until half the length is on each
side. There will be twice as many strands as you
had cords. Begin a flat braid, as in Fig. 8, until
all the strands are woven in. If there are twelve,
you then leave out the outside strand on each
side and continue the braid with ten; leave out
two again, and continue with the middle eight;
and so on until you have but two left. Tie
these firmly together, and the braid will not work
The queer-looking flat open-work braid shown in
Fig. 9 is much used at sea, but it is hard to make

C\' v


FIG. 9.-

of anything but tarred hemp rope-yarns, because it
always inclines to loosen. The tarred rope does
not slip like ordinary cord. In this braid, the
strands do not cross the braid, but each one simply
locks into its neighbor. To make it, you twist the
first strand around the second, the second around
the third, the third around the fourth, and so on
across the braid. In the figure, the first has been
twisted around the second, and the second is ready
to twist around the third.

These braids can be easily learned by following
the descriptions, and by referring to the cuts. Girls
may use them in many ways; that shown in Fig. 5
is pretty for the hair. But I need not point out
the various uses to which they may be put, for I
am sure you all will discover them for yourselves.


THIS object bears no relation to the famous
Jabberwock; in fact, it is simply a knot in
common use among sailors; and the mysteri-
ous-sounding name is merely a very bad way of
pronouncing Matthew Walker." Matthew
Walker was an inventor, and, though his name
has become gibberish, his knot is as good as ever,
and is a very useful one. Whenever a rope is
put through a hole and held by a knot, there is
the place for a maderwocker, one that is not
clumsy, will hold fast, and never loosen. The
boys can use it on sled-ropes, swings, rope handles
to boxes, and in many other places.
To make it you must first untwist, or unlay,
about six inches of one end of the rope, and tie a
string firmly around it where the knot is to be.
Now, hold the rope in your left hand with the un-
twisted ends standing up, take one strand and bend
it downward and around the second. Do not draw
it tight, but leave a loop. Next bend the second
strand around the third, and the third around the
first, bringing the third one up through the loop
left in the first. Draw all the ends tight and snug,
and the knot will look like Fig. 10, which is a
"single maderwocker," or single wall."
If this knot
you may put _. _
a crown"
down the first
end and leave a loop; bend the second over the
first, the third over the second, and put the end
through the loop left in the first. Draw all the
ends down snug and cut them off, and you will
have a neat and strong knot like Fig. 1. Perhaps
you will understand this crown better by looking
atthe end of the braid, Fig. 13.
A "double maderwocker,"
or "double wall," is a variety
of this knot, made in the
same way, excepting that each
strand passes around two oth-
ers, instead of one, as in the
single maderwocker. Thus, FIG. I.-- CROWN.
the first strand is bent down
and around the second and third, the second around
the third and first, and up through the loop of


the first; the third around the first and second,
and up through the loop of the second, which
also has been left a little loose. Draw all snug
and you have a larger knot than the single one.
(See Fig. 12.) You
'r' ...-. '-- can finish it either
on it, as described
before, or by binding
the strands close to
the knot and cutting off the ends.
A series of crowns makes a very pretty and use-
ful round braid like Fig. 13. The one represented
has but four strands, though you will notice that

it looks as if it had eight. Any number of strands
may be used for this, and it will always appear to
have double the num-
ber it really has. To /
make it look even and -----.-.-. .
smooth, you must al-
ways bend the strands
down in the same way; FIG. 13.
that is, always bend
them to the right or always to the left. Girls will
find this pretty cord convenient for many things;
made of fine silk braid, it is nice to hang a fan from
the belt, or for other purposes. Made of heavier
materials, boys, I am sure, will find use for it.



The things he really cared for
Were queer things such as these:
Odd knots of rope, and bits of string,
A marline-spike, a hammock ring,
India ink, or anything
That might a sailor please.

He liked to read of voyages,
And navigators' lore.
And I can tell you how," he said,
To make a splice or a 'Turk's head,'
To hold the reel, or heave the lead,
And-oh a great deal more."

And if perchance you missed him,
When others were at play,
You'd find him stowed in some odd nook.
Off cruising in his sailor book
With Frobisher or Captain Cook,
SIn regions far away.

I KNEW a little youngster
Who would a sailor be;
He did not care for top or ball,
For marbles, kites, or trinkets small,-
He did not care for these at all,
For he would go to sea.

He has not gone from home as yet,
To ship before the mast;
But only wait and you shall see-
Sailors are made from such as he;
I 'm very sure that he will be
An Admiral at last.




IN 4 --.I
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jumpoi our oi Ill.. ILI
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-- ,l N -I ,H E .Y ,tL' -.

j iuK- iN IH-IL- UL I'I T.

TRY not to mind it, dearly beloveds. It is merely
" the sensation caused by caloric, or the principle
of heat, in excess; the bodily feeling experienced
on exposure to the sun's rays; the reverse of cold."
What is there to grumble about in so simple a
thing as that? And yet that is all that makes
these sunny days uncomfortable. Just fan your-
selves with that fact, my dears. I 'm assured you
have the highest authority for it-a big, wise
book named Webster.
And now that your thoughts are cooled and re-
freshed, you're ready for this communication which
the Little School-ma'am wishes to lay before you.

ma has found in a new book (the Life of Henry
W. Longfellow," edited by his brother Samuel),
a copy of the very first letter ever written by the
poet. We reckoned his age, and found that he was
six years and eleven months old when he wrote
it. It interested my brother Kit and me so much
that Mother said we could copy it for you to show
the ST. NICHOLAS boys and girls. I think it was
very nice in him to put his sister Ann in first, and
Kit says I ought to explain that a billet was some-
times good to get.
This is the letter:
"PORTLAND, 1814.
DEAR P 'AP,- Ann wants a little Bible like little Betsey's. Will
you please buy her one, if you can find any in Boston. I have
been to school all the week, and got only seven marks. 1 shall have
a billet on Monday. I wish you to buy me a drum.

As some one may wish you to tell whether
Henry got the drum or not, I think I '11 copy next
a part of the father's answer to the letter. He
was in Boston at the time, and he wrote:

* * I have found a very pretty drum, with an eagle painted
on it, but the man asks two dollars for it; and they do not let any
vessels go from Boston to Portland now. But if I can find any
opportunity to send it down, I shall buy it. And if I cannot, I shall
buy something else which will please you as well. I am glad to
hear that you have been a good boy at school, and are likely to get
a billet. You must save all your billets till 1 get home." *
P. S.- What do you think my father says ? He
says Henry's letter was pretty hard on Boston.
Your little friend and admirer,

DEAR JACK: I once had some tame fish in a lake at the foot of my
garden,--or, rather, some fish that came every afternoon about five
o'clock to be fed. My children were in the habit of taking bread
daily and throwing it into the lake for them to eat. The fish became
so tame that they would eat out of our hands, and when a foot-fall
was heard coming down the terrace that leads into the small flower-
garden by the lakeside, the fish would rush through the water by
hundreds, expecting their food. They were of many kinds,-from
the large catfish, or bullpout, weighing three or four pounds, to the
small minnow.
Once, while I was feeding them from my hand, a water-snake
suddenly caught one of the fish by the head, and, as a snake always
must do after catching his prey under water, he held the fish up out of
the water for a moment while he took breath. I instantly caught the
fish, and-attempted to pull it out of the snake'smouth, but the snake
as quickly twisted his tail around a root under the water and resisted
my attempt to deprive him of his expected dinner. With all the
strength I could exert, I could neither pull the fish out of the snake's
mouth nor tear loose his hold upon the root.
While I continued to pull, I very soon found that the snake was
beginning to swallow the fish, and was visibly sucking it in. Not-
withstanding all my efforts to wrench it from his grasp, the fish
gradually disappeared into the snake's mouth until I felt my thumb
and finger touch against the jaws of the reptile, and even then
they were irresistibly pushed back until my grasp was only upon
the tip end of the fish's tail. Then the snake, with a sudden jerk,
pulled it quite out of my hand and swam away. I was defeated,
and the snake had gained the victory. Yours truly, H. E. S.

IT never rains but it pours! as I 've often
heard the Deacon say. We have lately been dis-
cussing the habits of some animal weather-proph-
ets, but we have considered them one at a time.
Now, lo and behold! -my young friend Ida G.
Egerton sends me this letter and a newspaper
extract, which describes a long list of such weather-
DEAR JACK: Seeing your readers are interested in living barom-
eters, I thought I would send you this paper. From
"I do not know of any surer way of predicting the changes in the
weather, says a correspondent, than by observing the habits of the
snail. They do not drink, but they imbibe moisture during a rain,
and exude it afterward. The snail is never seen abroad except before a
rain, when you will see it climbing the bark of trees and getting on
the leaves. The tree-snail, as it is called, two days before rain, will
climb up the stems of plants, and if the rain is going to be a hard
and long one, it gets on the sheltered side of a leaf, but if a short
rain, on the outside. Then there are other species that before a rain
are yellow in color, and after rain blue.
"Take the ants, too; have you ever noticed the activity they dis-
play before a storm -hurry, scurry, rushing hither and yon, as if
they were letter-carriers making six trips a day, or expressmen
behind time? Dogs grow sleepy and dull, and like to lie before a
fire, as rain approaches; chickens pick up pebbles, fowls roll in the
dust, flies sting and bite more viciously, frogs croak more clamor-
ously, gnats assemble Under trees, and horses display restlessness.



When you see a swan flying before the wind, spiders crowding
on a wall, toads coming out of their holes in unusual numbers in the
evening, worms, slugs, and snails appearing, robin-redbreasts pecking
at the windows, pigeons coming to the dovecotes earlier than
usual, peacocks squalling at night, mice squeaking, or geese wash-
ing, you can put them down as rain-signs. Nearly all the animals
have some way of telling the weather in advance. It may be that
the altered condition of the atmosphere with regard to electricity,
which generally accompanies changes of the weather, makes them
feel disagreeable or pleasant. The fact that a cat licks herself before
a storm is urged by some naturalists as proof of the special influences
of electricity. Man is not so sensitive. Yet many persons feel list-
less before a storm, to say nothing of aggravated headaches, tooth-
aches, and rheumatic pains."

It appears, from this, that even boys and girls
may sometimes be classed among the animal
weather-prophets. But, as they seem to have a
rather painful way of indicating storms, I hope
none of you excel in prophesying.

DEAR JACK : We.were lately much
interested in watching a family of Bal- *
timore orioles that lived in a nest in a .-' '
tree near our house. There were sev-
eral young birds in the nest, that kept f
their father and mother busy all day
long feeding them. The nest was
rather small for its inmates, and some "
time ago a little bird fell out. Though L/
the nest is about fifteen feet above the ..
ground, it did not hurt itself. We saw
it fall, and put it on a small tree near -
by, where its mother could see it. i
Afterward I climbed a ladder and put
it in the nest. Then the mother bird
arrived and hunted all over the small
tree, trying to find it and give it some-
thing to eat, and seemed very anxious
about it. It was a very pretty sight to
watch her.
This oriole's nest has been in the
tree foursome years. It hangs from one
of the highest limbs, to which it is fast- "
ened by strong cords made from the
material of which the nest is built.
We are glad to have orioles about, for
they feed the young birds with insects
injurious to the garden and orchard.
Insects seem to be their principal food ;
and I have seen them eat hornet'seggs.
The name oriole is from the old
French "oriol," which is derived from
the Latin "aureolus," meaning golden.
They are sometimes called "golden
robins." The orchard oriole, which we occasionally see, is of a
pure yellow color, with stripes of black on its back, and is about
the size of a canary-bird. The colors of the Baltimore oriole
are orange and black. They are so called because orange and
black were the colors of the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore, who
was Governor of Maryland under King Charles I.
Respectfully, NORMAN T. SANDERS.

WISDOM does not depend on size, as you all know,
my dears. The ant and the bee, in fact, often
seem to know more than some of the largest ani-
mals. The humming-bird, too, though the small-
est of birds, is not lacking in intelligence. A friend

of the Deacon tells a pleasant little story of one
that was trying to secure the honey from a flower
with a deep cup, and at the same time was plainly
very tired. The flower grew near a porch where a
family was sitting, and seeing the trouble of the
bird, a young girl walked slowly toward him, hold-
ing out her finger. The tired bird looked sharply
at her and then accepted the offered perch, alighted
on the finger, and, when it was held close to the
flower, returned to his work of honey-gathering.
The girl stood quietly, and he used her finger as a
resting-place till he had finished his meal, when
he flew away home. A wise humming-bird that,
say I,-and a wise girl, too.


You were lately told in ST. NICHOLAS, I hear,
about a curious lace-leaf that grows in a far-off

i ,I-

^-w- f '" f
-2 -I,.


f- .!:l tl vorld called
i : '.'ell, the Lit-
S. t, '"-l:.,*:,.,!l .'in asks me to
Shuo. jou Lu,,, this picture of
another queer plant, which,
she says, is a near neighbor
to the lace-leaf, for it is found
in the marshes alongthe coast
SofMadagascar, and it is known
as the pitcher plant.
At the end of each leaf, which narrows
a to a mere stalk at the tip, it carries a lit-
tle vegetable vase very likeapitcher with
lid and all complete. And this curious
cup is indeed a pitcher, given to the
plant for the express purpose of keeping
its leaves well supplied with moisture ; for travel-
ers report that they have frequently found quite
a quantity of water in those queer little natural
cups. Besides, they have big ears, so of course
they 're little pitchers.
The Deacon says that, according to all accounts,
Madagascar must be a sort of palace of the vege-
table kingdom.



SINCE Mr. Hayward went out of business, Mr. N. M. Shepard,
85 Nassau street, N. Y., has consented to succeed him as our badge-
He is quite enthusiastic in the matter, and has designed some
very pretty badges, which seem to us a decided improvement upon
the styles shown in the hand-book. The scarf-pin and lace-pin are
most attractive, because least noticeable,-which is a paradox.
For further information communicate with Mr. Shepard, whose
address is given above.


Tr is a pleasant thought that even those men whose personal ex-
perience of sorrow has led them to take dark views of life in general
can find in our Association something worthy their commendation -
something to be built up, rather than destroyed. Would that we
could extend our brotherly influence as widely as Prince Krapotkine
suggests in the following extract from his article, "What Geography
Ought To Be," published in The Nineteenth Century for Decem-
ber, 188:5

"Another feature to be introduced in our schools ought to be
mentioned here. I mean the exchange, between schools, of corre-
spondence o . -. .1 "] 'cts and of their natural science
collections. '! I.,. i.:.; ... ."l-. I introduced in several schools of
the United States by the 'Agassiz Association,' can not be too
warmly advocated. It is not enough to collect specimens of rocks,
plants, and animals from its own limited regions. Each village
school ought to have collections from everywhere; not only from all
parts of its own country, but from Australia and Java, Siberia and
the Argentine Republic. It can not purchase them, but it may have
them -it can have them in exchange for its own collections, from
schools scattered everywhere on the surface of the globe.
Such is the great idea which presided at the creation of the
'Agassiz Association'-an organization which has already seven
thousand members and six hundred 'Chapters,' or sections.* The
members of this Association are accustomed to study natural
sciences in the field, amid nature itself; but they do not keep
their treasures to themselves. They write to other branches of the
Association; they exchange with them their observations, their
ideas, their specimens of minerals, plants, and animals. They write
about the scenery of Canada to friends in Texas. Their Swiss
friends (for something similar exists also in Switzerland) send them
the Edelweiss of the Alps, and their Fnr.. 1- friends instruct them
in the geology of England. Shall I j.. rr ,r in proportion as the
existence of the Association becomes known, specialists, professors,
and amatetr-naturalists hasten to offer their services to their young
friends for lecturing before them, for determining their specimens,
or for climbing with them on the hills in geological and botanical ex-
cursions? . Is it necessary to insist on the benefits of the
'Agassiz Association,' or to show how it ought to be extended ? The
greatness of the idea of establishing a lively connection between all
schools of the Earth is too clear. Everybody knows that it is suf-
ficient to have a friend in a foreign country be it Moscow or Java
to begin to take some interest in that country. A newspaper para-
graph entitled Moscow' or 'Java' will thereafter attract his atten-
tion,-the more so if he is in a lively intercourse with his friend, if
both pursue the same work and communicate to one another the re-
sults of their studies and explorations. More than that: Let English
children be in a continuous exchange of correspondence, collections,
and thoughts with Russian children, and you may be sure that after
some time neither English nor Russians will so readily grasp at guns
for settling their misunderstandings. The Agassiz Association has
a brilliant future; similar ones will surely extend all over the world."

455, Bedford, Pa. Each member has his own cabinet. Our time
has not been wasted by any means. It will not be long before we re-
commence our collecting expeditions and picnics.-W. C. Lang-
don, Jr., Sec.
447, Chittenaugo, NV. Y. We have a very good collection, includ-
ing rare insects. We intend soon to visit the Indian mound near
Manlius, where we hope to make various additions to our collection.
We shall raise 1ooo silk-worms for study this summer.- C. A. Jen-
kins, Sec.
490, New York (N). The year has been the most successful of
our existence. We stand to-day; strong in-numbers, interest, and
enthusiasm. We have held meetings steadily twice a month, and
these have been enthusiastic and well attended. Our good friend,
Professor J. D. Hyatt, has lectured for us, illustrating each lecture
by blackboard diagrams and also by his powerful microscope. We
have started a library, and a number of interesting and valuable
books have been presented to us. We have issued a little paper
called the Naturalist's Journal." Our cabinet is assuming gigan-
tic proportions, and embraces specimens in all lines of natural history,
properly arrangedand classified. We have a tabulated list of sub-
jects and speakers for our meetings arranged for the next three
months. These are nicely printed, together with names of officers,
time of meeting, rules, and constitution, so that each member can
have a copy for his own reference, and also to distribute to his
friends. We have also made arrangements for excursions and field-
meetings. We are encouraged and inspired by the past, and enter
upon the future with bright anticipations for still greater success.
May that success crown the efforts of all our Chapters !- Cephas B.
Fox, Secretary.


527, San Francisco (G). One of our young men has made an
excellent induction-coil and other apparatus which we find useful in
experimenting.. Our.work, as members of the A.,A.,,has been very
satisfactory and instructive.--Henry Rhine, Secretary.
539, Pliladelfkia (P). We started in October, '83, with ten
members, and we now have thirty-two. We have held noo regularand
two special meetings. Six lectures have been delivered to the Chap-
ter by as many lecturers. Our present plan of working is this: The
Chapter is divided into three classes, zoology, botany, and mineralogy
and geology. A member may join all the classes if he chooses, but
mustjoin at least one. Each class elects its own chairman. At
four successive meetings, zoology is studied. The next four meet-
ings are botanical. We conduct a journal, not printed, but written
in a book, and read by the editor. Each member, in turn, is ap-
pointed to contribute an article to this journal. Our finances are in
good condition, and in our next report I hope you will find an ac-
count of a permanent meeting-place (with an engraved charter, and
picture of Professor Agassiz on the wall), containing a large library,
a new cabinet, and a splendid microscope.- Louis L. Calvert, Sec.
549, Linlithgow, Scotland. The work of our Chapter has gone
on very successfully. The members of the A. A. are also members
of a local association, and the work of the latter is generally con-
sidered to be also that for the former. All the members have to
acknowledge with pleasure the numerous offers to exchange made
to them by American friends, advantage of which has been greatly
taken. The Secretary has greatly enriched his herbarium by the
additions to it of American plants. The out-of-door work-always
the most pleasant -proved all last year to be most pleasurable' and
profitable, ard it may be interesting to other members to know that
all the members here are 'cyclists and find their wheels of the greatest
The subjects taken up have been botany, geology, entomology,
ornithology, conchology, o8logy, and to a certain extent also zoil-
ogy. Meetings have been held and papers read, and many excur-

* Hand-book of the Agassiz Association," by Harlan H. Ballard. Lenox, Mass., 1884.



'ions taken, and the members hope that, in spite of tile claims made
on them by their daily avocations, they will still be able to continue
the study of nature.- Win. Wardrop, Secretary.
544, PhiladelMia (Q). Our meetings are well attended and very
interesting. Our debates are excellent, and show preparation on
the part of the participants. During the coming year we promise
to push things to a higher point than ever.-Joseph L. Hammer,
555, OlyIfPia, W. T. We have held weekly meetings contin-
uously, and have made constant additions to our cabinets. In
botany we have a pretty good collection of phanerogams; about five
hundred species determined; and in microscopy we have a good
collection of diatoms. We have a good series of Puget Sound clam-
shells.- For the Secretary, Robt. Blankenship.
556, Phila., (R). Many specimens have been gained, but our
cabinet does not fairly represent the Chapter, because each member
is an enthusiastic collector in his own department,and, with a selfish-
ness that perhaps can not be blamed, reserves his finds to increase
his "working capital." Our library has been more fortunate.
Our correspondence is a very pleasant feature. Mr. H. G. White
writes us valuable letters on the bird life of Eastern Massachusetts,
and W. H. Steckel keeps us informed on the plant life of Bucks
County, Pennsylvania.
Another department of our Chapter is the biological section.
Objects are exhibited under the microscope, and specimens, dissec-
tions, and preparations are handed around and freely discussed.
Sometimes we meet informally, and spend an evening in dissections
and general study. One will take a cicada pupa, one a locust or
an earth-worm, and so on; before adjourning, each reports on his
evening's work..
Our MS. paper, "Monthly Notes," has fallen into the hands of
a most able and vigorous editor, and is flourishing vigorously. To
conclude, we all feel that we are engaged in a good work, and each
one, inspiring and being inspired by the example of the others,
agrees that the Agassiz Association is the most worthy object of
his loyalty and love. A question frequently asked by outsiders is,
"Does it pay?" We promptly'and heartily answer, "Yes!"-
Wm. E. McHenry, Sec.
564, Santa Rosa, Cal. The interest and attendance for the past
six months have been larger than ever before. We gave a reception
one Saturday evening, for the purpose of awaking an interest, and
introducing our society to the public. The programme was:
i. Address, History of the S. R. Chapter of the A. A.,' Pres.
G. Lowell. 2. Select Reading, The Cat," Louis King. 3. Es-
say, "Nature," Wilber M. Swett. 4. Select Reading, "Poem
ofAgassiz," Geo. Butt. 5. "Biographical Sketch of Agassiz,"
Geo. Shaffer. 6. Microscopical Exhibition."
The members loaned their private collections. There were four
microscopes at hand, and numerous slides, all of which had been
prepared by members. We hope by our perseverance to raise the
S. R. A. A. to rank "one," as a working Chapter.-Wilber M. Swett,
565, Waseca, MiniZn., is in the field to stay. Since our last report
we have accomplished a great deal in the way of adding to our col-
lections. We consider one good working member worth a hun-
dred drones. The Secretary and Vice-President hope to be at
Davenport in August. We report forty-six mounted birds, and
seventeen skins of birds, all of our country; three mammals, forty-
five osteological specimens, etc. ; three skeletons, fifteen alcoholic
specimens, and 200 eggs in sets, all named and numbered. Also
some izoo.mineral specimens. We also devote some time to the
study of ethnology, as up to as late as 1863, the ground on which
Waseca now stands was frequented by tribes of Indians; and as a
consequence of that study we have a box of bones, dug up from a
mound, about two hundred arrow points, stone axes, and a curi-
ously carved stone head. Please consider Chapter 565 as one of
the Chapters that will be heard and felt in the years to come.-
J. F. Murphy, Sec.
569, Ludington, YMirch. We have a faithful club. Have not lost
a member since we started two years ago last November. Have not
failed of a meeting each week since last September. Have fourteen
boys between ages of thirteen and fifteen.
Have been studying Winchell's geological excursions, and one of
the members said he thought that Prof Winchell had written the
book purposely for him. It has explained to us the higher geologies,
and by it we have been enabled to name nearly all the rock speci-
mens found in Michigan.
We gave a public meeting to our parents and friends, and enter-
tained them with music, and essays, etc., prepared on the subjects
previously studied. We also had a blackboard illustration, showing
the causes of wells and springs, drawn and explained by one of
our bovs.
Again we invited the young ladies' club to hold a meeting at our
rooms, and after listening to their programme of essays, music, etc.,
we invited them to.a banquet, cooked, arranged, and served wholly
by our boys. All pronounced it a fine success. We have had
various excursions, examining gravel banks, gullies, canons (small
ones), etc. We have had experiments in chemistry, and have used
the various acids, to the full satisfaction of the owner of the club-room.
In order to fix in the minds the description of the different rocks, two
of our young members have invented games of mineralogy,-one
to be played like Authors," and the other like the geography game.


The members like to try the latter on their adult friends, to see
how much they know of the hardness, streak, chemical composition,
forms of crystals, and uses of the common rocks.-L. B. Elsworth,
Cor. Sec.
571, Grand Rapids, A'icih. We organized our club in the first
part of January, 1883, sith about fifteen members; but we have
grown, and now we have twenty-five members. We meet for one
hour every Monday evening. One plan has been to call for items
of interest from each of the members, and of these items we are
forming a scrap-book. We have often had short talks from gentle-
men upon various subjects, such as gunpowder and the care taken
of it; light, and sound, and electricity with experiments. Our
meetings are well attended, and the interest rather increases than
otherwise.- Ed. Avery, Sec.
578, Osceola, Iowa. Our Chapter has a membership of twenty.
We meet every Wednesday evening in a room fitted for that pur-
pose. We have a cabinet containing a fine collection of ores, fossils,
etc. Our Chapter was organized over two years ago. Since then
our membership has gradually increased, and with it the interest of
the members. The condition of the society is in every way promis-
ing.- Lee Burns, Sec., Box 744.
587, Concord, N. H. We think we have made more progress
during the past year than in any other since our Chapter was
formed. We have received many good specimens in exchange,
among them some coal-fossils, in which we were greatly interested;
a piece of iron ore from the Isle of Elba, and a quantity of shells
from all points of the compass. So now our cabinet contains some
500 minerals, besides the shells and other curiosities. We have not
read scientific books as much this winter as we did last year, but
have given our time to practical work in botany and mineralogy.
Five young ladies come in every Monday for the study of botany,
taking up house-plants as a preparation for other work next summer.
Also, we took advantage of Professor Crosby's offer, and have
much enjoyed the work in mineralogy under his direction. We
found blow-pipeanalysis very fascinating.-Lunette E. Lamprey, Sec.
590, Pomfret Centre, Conn. An average of four members of our
Chapter have met once a week through the'wiiter. We have care-
fully examined two herbariums collected by members, besides look-
ing over nearly one hundred species of flowers and ferns sent to me
from California. During the year we have examined 3co species of
flowers and ferns growing in this vicinity. We have made one ex-
cursion this month, and we have upon our list since April 7, 1886,
twenty-five plants. The first, Houstonia, was found on April 13.
Our members are more enthusiastic than ever before, and we are look-
ing forward to a very profitable season.- S. P. Oakes Marsh, Sec.
595, Oneonta, N. Y. One of our members is taking the course
of lessons in mineralogy, and enjoys it very much. Another is mak-
ing a collection of theviolets, and writing out descriptions of all the
plants she finds. When we go to the woods we always take a basket
and stout knife; then when we find a plant which we do not know,
and is not in bloom, we transplant it to our little wild garden; then
when it blossoms, we analyze it: if it is pretty and desirable, we let
it grow; if not, we pull it up; but when we meet it again, we know
it.- Jessie E. Jenks, Sec.
600, Galveston (A). Since date of last report (September 16,
1885), we have held fifteen meetings, at which were read six essays
and eleven selected readings. There were reported seventy-six
notes on natural objects, and specimens found, to the number of one
hundred and fifty-one.
Among the many curious notes reported was one on the nest of a
mud-wasp, found within the rind of a ripe orange,;the skin of which
had burst from rapid growth.

GALENA, gold ore, silver ore, fluorspar, etc. I will hereafter give
all inquirers for exchange my closest attention.-Ernest L. Robeits.
See. 262, Denver, Col.
Infusorial earth from Virginia for specimens from other States.-
Chapter 248, i09 East Grace street, Richmond, Va.
Minerals for same. Lists exchanged. Silicifiedwood a specialty.-
Miss Allie Cole, Sec. Ch. 700, Mt. Pleasant, Iowa.
Cactus and petrified wood.- Emma E. Pirie, San Antonio, Texas.
Collections of twenty-five native California plants each, for books
and pamphlets -. 1.:... to botany and ornithology.-P. AM. Hoit.
Santa Barbara, ( .1,1i -w,. .
Holly, mistletoe, balls of sweet gum-tree, and "cross-vine." for
mounted sea-weed, star-fish, and other marine specimens.- Frank
J. Engel, Montvale Springs, Tennessee.
Well identified bird-skins for same. Send for lists.-L. M. Davies,
203 Newell street, Cleveland, Ohio.
Petrified wood.-Wilber M. Swett, Santa Rosa, Cal.


No. Name. No. ofMembers. Address.
967 Menominee, Mich. (A)......Gu y Milbury.
779 Chicago, Ill. (Y)......... 4.Miss Alice I. Halsey,
30272 S. Park Ave.
45 Shelbyville, Ky. (A)..... 6..Ross Neel.
791 St. Louis, Mo. (F) ... 5..Mrs. E. K. Jones,
713 Channing Ave.


No. Name. No. qf/Members. Address.
347 Baltimore, Md. (C) ...... 6..Miss Affa Gray,
428 N. Mount St.
7f9 Phila., Pa. (A') ......... 7..Herbert L. Evans,
4414 Sansom St.
557 Phila., Pa. (S) ......... 7 .Chas. Nason, 2116 Percy St.
968 Montvale Sp'gs, Tenn (A) 9..Frank J. Engel, Blount Co.
969 Cromwell, Ct. (A)....... . H. Barrows.
970 Stanbridge Quebec (A)... 8..A. F. Sargent.
971 Mendham, N. J. (A) .... i..Alvah Quimby.
ITO Marshalltown, iowa (A).. 4.. C. C. Trine.
13 Madison, N. J. (A)...... 9.. Lillian H. Springer.
107 Newburyport, Mass. (A). 6..Geo. A. Noyes.
168 Buffalo, N. Y. (C) ..... 5.. Henry S. Gatley, 205 Swan St.


841 Fairview, N. J............. Mrs. C. W. Asbury.
506 Port Henry, N. J..........John M. Thomas.
462 New Haven, Conn. (A)......J. H. Haydon.

Secretaries of Chapters 601-700 will kindly send in their annual
reports by August 25, if possible.
All are invited to join the AGAssIZ ASSOCIATION, old and young.
Address all communications for this department to

Lenox, Mass.


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

THE explanation of "curving in base-ball pitching has been dis-
cussed at length in this volume of ST. NICHOLAS, and we now present
to our older boy-readers, as a final contribution on the subject, these
three letters from three widely separated localities. The first comes
from the far West:
PINOLE, CAL.., 1886.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The explanation of "curving" suggested
in your April number is ingenious, but unfortunately it makes the ball
curve the wrong way. The anonymous explanation in February has
the same defect, though it narrowly misses being correct. I ask your
readers to look over thatexplanation again, and they will see that
the ball, under the extraordinary conditions imposed upon it, instead
of curving," as the writer says, to the right, will not advance at all,
but will revolve around the point D to the left.
There can be no doubt about the possibility of curving a base-
ball. The subject is an old one in gunnery, and has been thoroughly
investigated by various experimenters. When spherical projectiles
were the only ones in vogue, the matter was one of vital interest to
artillerists. When such a ball is thrown, it is acted upon by two forces
- the resistance of the air and the force of gravity. The normal path
for a given velocity and angle of projection is a plane curve, because
both these forces act in the vertical plane of fire the force of gravity
vertically and the resistance of the air tangentially to the curve.
When, in addition to the motion of translation, the ball is given a
motion of rotation about its center of inertia, the latter will no longer
describe the normal path, but will deviate from it by "curving" to
the right or left, up or down, depending upon the direction of the
rotation. This is because the resultant of the air-resistances will no
longer act in the line of the tangent in the general case, but at an
angle with it. The general effect will be an increase or diminution
of the normal range or deviation to the right or left of the plane
of fire.
Now, it is almost impossible to project a spherical ball from a
smooth-bore gun without giving it a rotation the direction of which
it is difficult to predict; hence the inaccuracy of that kind of fire.
Spherical balls are not homogeneous, as a rule. If the center of
figure and center of inertia do not coincide, the ball will rotate when
fired-unless so placed in the gun that these points are both in the
axis of the piece. Taking advantage of these principles, Major
Wade, of our army, years ago managed to make an eccentric shell
curve so as to fall fifty yards to the right or left of the plane of fire.
The curving" due to rotation is in the direction in which the ront
ofthe ball rotates. Perhaps the explanation accepted by artillerists
can be best understood by the aid of a figure. Let the ball be moving
in the direction A E and be rotating at the same time in the direction
I C D about an axis vertical to the plane of the paper. A E will be
the projection of the plane of fire which plane will divide the ball
into two hemispheres. Now, the half of the ball on the side B will be
moving forward by the rotation, or in the same direction as the cen-
ter, while the other half D will be moving backward, or in opposi-
tion to the motion of the center. The side B will have a greater
velocity than the side D. The resistance of the air upon any surface
moving through it varies with the amount and form of the surface.
In these regards, the two sides are alike, but the resistance also varies

with the velocity of the moving surface, increasing with some power
greater than the square, and in this regard the two sides are different.
The side B will experience a greater resistance than the side D, or,
what is the same thing, the resultant of all the pressures on all points

of the hemisphere. B is greater than the corresponding resultant on
D, and the ball will yield toward the side D, describing a curve
C F.
The deviation of oblong rifle projectiles which rotate about their
axes of figure is called "drift." This is a very interesting phenome-
non, but it should not be confounded with the curving" or devia-
tion by rotation of spherical projectiles, as it is to be explained very
differently. Yours truly, W. R. QUINAN.

THE next letter is sent from Chicago, and the writer's theory is
comparatively a simple one:
CHICAGO, x886.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been much interested in the lettrs
on the subject of curve-pitching, and since I have taken you for
eleven years, I hope you will publish my theory, that it may be
picked to pieces, and I may be set right on the subject. My theory
is as follows:

C------ -------- -

Let A B be a ball moving toward D, and rotatingin the direction
shown by the arrows.
As the ball flies along, it pushes the air aside, as shown by the
lines F E ; the air thus rubs against the sides of the ball. But as
the half of the ball called B is revolving with the air as shown by
the arrow, there is much less friction on that side than on the half
called A, which is revolving against the air.
Therefore, as motion is always in the direction of least resistance,
the ball must curve in the direction C.
If any of the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS can not understand my
explanation, let them imagine, for example (instead of a regular
ball), a ball covered with paddles, and they will then readily under-



i886.] THE LET

stand it. If they think it not a good simiie, let them look at the
surface of a ball through a microscope and their doubts will not last
long. Your friend, W. H.
FINALLY, from Boston, comes this rather formidable-looking expla-
nation, which will interest those of our boy-readers who are accus-
tomed to take their recreation and fun in the form of mathematical
problems. [But does n'tit make the ball curve in the wrong direction ?]
1BosTON, MAss.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Let the line A P, Fig. I, represent in
length and direction a given force acting on the point B. Draw any
- .1i. 1 ,.. ... i CBD, havingA B for diagonal; then the line.
.:sent in length and direction two forces acting on
B, which, -.. .: .. equivalentt to A B, A B is the resultant of
C B and L B are components of A B.

If the parallelogram, A C B D, Fig. 2, is a rectangle, the com-
ponents C B and D B are known as right components. The force
represented by D B has no effect in the direction C B, and the force
represented by C B has no effect in the direction D B.
Let Fig. 3 represent a ball revolving
Fig.3 about its center O, in the direction in-
dicated by the arrows, but the ball, as
c A a whole, not moving in any direction.
Let BB, BB, be lines at right angles
a to each other. Let the resistance of
A the atmosphere be represented by lines
I/ AB, AB, AB, AB, and AB', AB',
AB',AB', runningin a direction oppo-
site to the revolution of the ball. The
lines AB, AB, AB, AB are already
/ perpendicular to BB, BB, and need
not be changed. But the lines AB',
AB', AB', AB' must be resolved into
components perpendicular to BE, BB.
This has been done in one case, the
components being CB' andDB'. But
the force CB' acting on the point B is equiv-
alent to the force EF acting on BB, and the ig.4
force DB is equivalent to the force GH acting
on the other BE. A
In a similar manner all the other forces, A'B' i/C
may be resolved into forces perpendicular to
the lines BB, BB.
If, in Fig. 3, all the forces acting on each of
the lines OB, be represented by a single line,
we have as the result the four equal lines AB,
CD, EI, GZH, Fig. 4 representing the total E-
force acting on the ball.
Now, suppose the ball to move in the direction indicated by the
large arrow, Fig. 5, then the resistance on the side B would increase,
that on the side P would decrease, hence A B would increase, while
EF decreased proportionately. Again, the air in front of the ball
at H is condensed, that in the rear at D is rarefied, hence the resist-
ance at His increased, that at D being lessened, and GHis increased,
while CD is lessened.

-, ------- ~ ~-- ------ "

Set off on AB, AK equal to EF; A K will balance EF, and we
have only the force KB acting on the line BF. Making GL equal,
CD, in the same manner, we have only the force LH acting the
line HD.
Now, the force represented by the line BK can not do any work in
the directions B,' or FB, and therefore merely slows the ball. But
the force LH, although it can not do any work in the directions
HD or DH, can do work, in the direction LH, and causes the ball
to follow the curve HM.
Of course, all the forces, A B, CD, EF, GH, tend to stop the
rotation of the ball, but the forces KB and LH are the only ones
which change the motion of the ball as a whole. F. H. C.


TER-BOX. 797

THE following verses were written by a young poet of eleven, who
began making rhymes at the rather early age of three.


THE waves of the coming tide
Crept gently along the beach,
With musical, silv'ry plash,
As if they broke into speech.

And when my sweet joy was dead,
The sound of the heaving sea,
Like gentle breath of sleepers,
Was a soothing balm to me.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I suppose you know that many girls have
a poor opinion of boys. Well, my sister and her girl-friends were
going to have a fair in my mother's parlors. I wanted to be in it,
but they laughed, and asked me "if I could dress a doll, or make
a needle-book?" While they were joking, Mamma whispered
something in my ear, and we had a secret together, and we kept
it till the night of the fair, and then we astonished my sister in this
way. There is a long hall opening out four back parlor. Mamma
had it brightly lighted, that night, and about the middle of the
evening Papa opened the door which led into the hall, and hung a
large card over the door, on which was written : "Target-Shooting."
I was in there with my new air-pistol, and the target was at the
other end of the hall. I loaded the pistol, and another boy took the
money. We charged two cents for a shot, and we had all we
could do to load fast enough, so many people wanted to shoot.
Some took ten shots. When I handed the money to my sister, she
said I was "a daisy,"-T think I had the best of the joke that time,-
don't you ? Yours, JAMIE H.

Yes, Jamie,--but we think also that some of the credit belongs to
Mamma. Don't you?

A FRIEND of ST. NICHOLAS sends to the Letter-box" this illus-
trated jingle:

-'-- "

; :- :.C- ,

ONCE there were two little girls. Their names were Rosy and

when they were in the woods they saw a creature with eyes of
flame, whistling as it went through"the air, dit said in a grff
voice, I am a Jabber ock"
-- -i 1

What kind of a creature under the sun are you ?" said Robbie;
what flashing eyes you have! You look rather kind, though very


frightful. Please take me up to the moon on your back and give me
some cheese when you get there."
Robbie had heard that there was cheese in the moon, but he did
not really think so ; only for a joke he said that.
Oh you soft little pussy thing said Rosy, as they rode away
up to the moon. Pretty soon they went bump against something
which was shiny and yellow. It was the moon. Then Jabberwock
let the children get off her back, and asked the Man in the Moon if
he would please get from his closet some cheese. Why! said
Robbie, "I did n't know there was really any cheese up in the
moon! "
Then," said the Jabberwock, "why did you ask for it? "
For ajoke," said Robbie.
Well, here now," said the Man in the Moon, "eat your cheese."
Why, how nice! said Alice, as she took a large bite out of the
cheese. I think it would be nice to live up in the moon altogether,
though I am afraid Mamma would not let us."
Well, I suppose she would n't," said the Jabberwock. After
they had had some cheese they went down again.
Oh, thank you," said Rosy, as they got down to the earth.
" Jabberwock, I think you are the loveliest creature in the world -
except Mamma! "
Oh," said Alice, I wish you would stay with us a few days -
I suppose you will if we ask you to."
Yes," said Jabberwock, "I would love to. Should you like to
see my baby? It is a sweet little thing."
She led them to a hole in a tree, where they saw the tiniest little
baby Jabberwock you ever saw.
What a cunning little thing said Rosy; "but has it not got
any fur on ? "
No," said Jabberwock; "but still it is pretty, is it not ?"
Of course it is," said Rosy.
But come," said Alice, this is the time Mamma wanted us to
be home."
Is it ?" said the Jabberwock. Well, I will come." So away
they went. Written by MARY CONSTANCE DU BOIS
at the age of 5 years and to months).

We acknowledge with thanks the receipt of pleasant letters from
the following young friends: Frank Taylor, Harry Armstrong,
Katie P. Peabody, Alice Conway, Robert A. Provan, Fay Taylor,
Pussy and Leuce, Josie Irwin, Agnes E. Conwell, W. H., Allmond
McKay Griggs, Hugl P. Yiemann, Katie, Dorothea Nimzer, Anna
Wetmore, Edith M., H. L. M., "Venus," Celia Loeb, Francis E.
L., Florence E. Gaffield, Marion S. Dumont, Lee A. Miller, M. C.
H., Evelyn Knight, Pansy, Luckett & Miriam I., F. W. Horning-
house, Hattie Frost, Emily E. Warner, "Alice, Annie, Gracie,
Florence, Jessie, Marion," "Three Rebels," K., H. S. M., Bessie
Maud Bowsher, Jerry Richter, Walter S. H., Nettle Rychen,
Allan C. Rowe, May Singleton, Philip A. M., William B. Judson,
Minnie W.,C. E. Lankford Ida E., Annie B. Sargent, Nellie P. Clark,
Alex. D., Helen W., J. Henry Warren, F. W. Lodge, Grace Coburn,
Harriet F. Lightfoot, Edith S. Clark, Fred. B. W., Sadie Furman,
Ellen S. Congdon, Gertrude, Emily Belton, Grace Vandever, Helen
Crane, Alex. Evans, Kate Morris, Belle B. Anderson, Mabel B.,
M. B. P., Mabel Carrington, Cora L. Witherspoon, Gertrude M.,
Eugene Kell, C. G. Elmore, Willie Pettigrew, Willie J. Spear,
Jeannette G., Jessamine C., Albert L. Scoullar, Albertie Russell,
George Emerson, Helen A. Polsley, Ed. H. B., Elizabeth Butler
and Elizabeth Wright, P. N. S., Ethel Grey, Rebecca K. Allison,
Burton P. Thoms, Amy H., Florence Rawson Greer, Stella A.
Goodell, S. W. Bridgham, Jenny Wren, Anna L. L., R. E. B.,
Maude F. Helen, W. M., Mary Weller, Buddie Holt, Daisey
Higham, Sadie, Lyra and Silvia, M. G. Waring, E. H. Smalley,
Annetta Reese, Anna May Peaslee, Florence Langton, Bessie P.,
Howard Butcher, Jr.

MIR. CULMER BARNES contributes to the Letter-box this month
a timely picture:







NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Our country! In her intercourse with METAMORPHOSES. I. Cow; row, rot, rat. 2. Hard; harm, farm,
foreign nations, may she always be in the right; but our country, form, fort, sort, soft. 3. Left; lest, vest, vast, east. 4. Hit; nit,
right or wrong." Stef en Decatur. not, now, low. 5. Long; lone, lose, lost, lest, west.
CUBE. I to 2, mother; 2 to 6, repose; 5 to 6, needle; i to 5, RHoMnoios. I. Across: I. Venom. 2. Damon. 3. Bales. 4.
Marion; 3 to 4, eating; 4 to 8, greedy; 7 to 8, nimbly; 3 to 7, en- Resin. 5. Strop. II. Across. i. Nabob. 2. Mason. 3. Danes.
sign; I to 3, mite; 2 to 4, rung; 6 to 8, easy; 5 to 7, noon. 4. Remit. 5. Donor.-- CHARADE. Par-son-age.
ANAGRAMS. I. Don Quixote. 2. Oliver Twist. 3. The Vir- ZIGZAG. Independence Day. Cross-words: 1. Ivy. 2. aNt.
ginians. 4. Guy Mannering. 5. Old Curiosity Shop. 6. Uncle 3. liD. 4. fEd. 5. Put. 6. nEd. 7. paN. 8. aDd. 9. End.
Tom's Cabin. 7. The Woman in White. 8. The Last Days of Pom- to. aNd. ii. roC. 12. lEd. 13. Dig. 14. mAy. 15. laY.
peii. 9. The Vicar of Wkefield. 1o. Quentin Durward. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, straw-hats; from I to 2, saltwater; from
PI. "Angling may be said to be so like the mathematics that it 3 to 4, stopwatch. Cross-words: x. Spinsters. 2. Apitpat. 3 Largo.
can never be fully learnt." Izaak Walton. 4. Tap. 5. W. 6. Aha. 7. Trait. 8. Centime. 9. Handsomer.

To ouR PUZZLERS: In sending answers to puzzles, sign only your initials or use a short assumed name; but if you send a complete
list of answers you may sign your full name. Answers should be addressed to ST. NiCHOuAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO.,
33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 20, from Maud E. Palmer-Annette Fiske-Philip
S. Fiske-" B. L. Z. Bub, No. T "-Maggie T. Turrill-Paul Reese-San Anselmo Valley-Arthur and Bertie Knox-" Betsy Trot-
wood "- B. L. Z. Bub, No. 2-" 'May and 79 "- Sallie Viles- The Melvilles -Blithedale-Mamie R,- Madge and the Dominie -
Carrie S. Seaver and Alice M. Young The Spencers Francesca "-" Clifford and Coco "- Bertha Z. Gerhard -" Sisters Twain "-
"R. U. Pert"--" Hazel, Laurel, and Olive"-" Theo. Ther.'
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES TO THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 20, from M. L. B., I -M. S. Dumont, i-W. B. R.--M. ..
D. and others, 2-Pelham, i--Two Fs., 5-'The Peraults-C. D. Mason, i-"Miss Ouri," 5-"Tigers," 2-Stella Mendel, 1-
Johnny, --Dixie, i--"Tigers," --Maud F., --Lucy Jones, i-J. Schlussel, i-Laura G. Levy, 9-Buttercup and Daisy, I-
Helena Hellwig, 2--Madge Fursman, i-Florence Althaus, 7-Thyrza Thornton, 5-C. S. H., 2-Mrs. Sippi, 5-Mary, Jennie and
Mother, 6- Grace Cameron, 2 Effie K. Talboys, 8 -" Yum Yum," i Pepper and Maria, z1 Papa and Daisy, Ned Mitchell, 5 -
Emma W. and Katie B. Knight, 2-T. L. and L. Cozzens, --Lucy M. Bradley, 12- Lizzie Wainman, i- Geo. H. English, I-
"Chrysanthemum," i-- Mary P. Fan, I--"Jack Sprat and Pa," 6-H. and L., 9- Clarence Brothers, i L. Reeves, 9 Eugene
Kell, -No Name, N. Y., 9-W. R. M., i- Bertha H., 12 -"Rags and Tags," i -Nellie and Reggie, xi- S. B. Bissell, 8-"Avis"
and Grace Davenport, o1-" Mohawk Valley "-"Rasco," 2-S. L. Meeks, 9-Belle Murdock, 12- No Name, Chicago, io-B. B. Y., in
-" The Girls, Mabel, John, and Chickadee," n -R. B. C., 2 Original Puzzle Club, o1-" Geo. M. Ebry," 2- Harrison Allen, Jr., -
R. Lloyd, i-" Blank" and Ulysees, 2- Dash, 12-Francis W. Islip, 1n2-Eleanor, Maude, Louise, Bertie and Nanno Peart, 7-Ida
and Edith Swanwick, 8 Geo. S. Seymour, 8 Lulu May, rr Frank M. Crispen, i Puzzled Family in Paris, 8 Esther Reid, Merton
House, I.

My dear, this whole I send to you,
A token of my friendship true;
I trust you 'll first it,-hold it fast,
And prize it if but for my last.
I. A GENTLE blow. 2. The Christian name of the heroine of a
novel by Theodore Winthrop. 3. To bleach. 4. The herb wolf's-
bane. 5. Pertaining to the bile. 6. A fruit which was said to make
strangers who ate of it forget their native land. 7. Musical
syllables. EDWARD EGBERT B.

I. UPPER SQUARE : Proportion. a. To affirm. 3. Familiar
beverages. 4. Formerly.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. Rent. 2. A Hebrew measure. 3.
Fabrics of a certain kind. 4. Formerly.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE : Formerly. A large bird of South
America. 3 Bodies of water. 4. Labor.
IV. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: i. Labor. 2. Surface. 3. Abode.
4. A feminine name.
V. LOWER SQUARE: I. Labor. 2. A feminine name. 3. To
break suddenly. 4. Retained. MURRAY AND PERCY.

I. ACRoss: I. Eloquence. 2. To eat into. 3. Part of a cat's foot.
4. In eloquence.
Downward: i. In Troy. 2. A musical note. 3. Skill. 4. An
implement. 5. A lyric poem. 6. A musical note. 7. In Troy.

II. AcRoss: I. Pertaining to the craft of Freemasons. 2. A
wooden shoe. 3. To cut the grass from. 4. In ceramic.
Downward: i. In ceramic. 2. Similar to. 3. A boy's nickname.
4. A hautboy. 5. At this moment. 6. A pronoun. 7. In ceramic.
"LOU. C. LEE."

4I -

-' a ."'' -

-Y, -

ALL of the cross-words of the above central acrostic are grouped
around the central picture, and answer to the following definitions.
i (nine letters). A contrivance useful in winter. 2 (nine letters).
A swift-flying insect. 3 (seven letters). A young fovl. 4 (five let-
ters). Familiar objects in rural districts. 5 (three letters). A winged
animal. 6 (three letters). Consumed. 7 (five letters). Useful to
fishermen. 8 (seven letters). An animal.
The central letters of the words described will spell the name of
a great Athenian philosopher, and the central picture will suggest
what is usually associated with his last moments.


'i -




- -, /

. 4

THE above Egyptian puzzle is an illustrated pyramid, as the
diagram in the lower left-hand corner indicates. When rightly
guessed, the central letters (indicated by crosses) will spell the name
of a famous statue that is said to emit sounds like those of a harp
as the sun rises. The illustrations answer to the following definitions.
i. A letter. 2. A precious stone. 3. An animal. 4. Tropical
fruit. 5. An animal. 6. A native of a certain Egyptian city.

8 i 2

7 9 3

6 5 4
I. FROM I to 9, the Christian name of an English queen; from
2 to 9, a famous river; from 3 to 9, a cupola; from 4 to 9, the name
of a large lake; from 5 to 9, to scale; from 6 to 9, magnitude; from
7 to 9, the margin; from 8 to 9, a number.
The letters represented by the figures from i to 8 spell the name
of a Danish author who died August 4, 1875.
II. From r to 9, part of a watch; from 3 to 9, qualified; from
3 to 9, matured; from 4 to 9, uncommon; from 5 to 9, 43,560 square
feet; from 6 to 9, to stare; from 7 to 9, to incite; from 8 to 9, a
The letters represented by the figures from i to 8 spell the name
of a famous American who died August 14, oi7o. HONORA N.


1. IN telephone. 2. One of the smaller sails on a ship. 3. A
small but famous country. 4. A Spanish nobleman. 5. A favorite.
6. Era. 7. In telephone. aDIPIs."


IN each of the following sentences a word is concealed, the defi-
nition to which is given in the same sentence. When rightly se-


elected and placed one below the other in the order here given,
the primals and finals will each form the name of a distin-
guished poet who was born in August. The cross-words are
all of the same length.
i. It is hard, in essays, to avoid assurance.
2. Mary has gone to Salem; Bell is home, and the latter
will adorn the book she is composing.
3. In an oration, a legate gave the detail of reasons for mak-
ing it.
4. Clare hears a little rumor that there will be a recital this
5. This incident I call the same as that in the other story.
6. On Mount Carmel I temporized with one of the friars.
7. When I look now in glyphs, I feel their beauty under-
standingly. CYRIL DEANE.

3 4

7 . 8

FROMu I to 2, royal; from 2 to 4, a long-tailed species of hawk,
found in Europe; from 3 to 4, a dealer in precious stones; from i to
3, eternal; from 5 to 6, a two-masted vessel; from 6 to 8, becoming
circular; from 7 to 8, a method of securing a good draught in chim-
neys; from 5 to 7, the name of one of the three persons thrown into
the fiery furnace of Nebuchadnezzar; from i to 5, the flower-de-
luce; from 2 to 6, an affected cast of countenance; from 4 to 8, a
kind of seaweed; from 3 to 7, to scourge. ROSE MADDER."


I. BEHEAD withered and leave part of the head. 2. Behead dry
and leave to free from. 3. Behead flexible and leave a demon. 4.
Behead to sulk and leave to unfold. 5. Behead surrounded by and
leave in the center of 6. Behead joyful and leave a young boy.
7. Behead an ornament worn by Jewish priests and leave an edge. 8.
Behead a short piece of iron and leave to be ill. 9. Behead the frac-
tion of an ounce and leave an ancient instrument of war. io. Be-
head a character in the play of Othello and leave gone.
The words described are of equal length. The beheaded letters,
read in the order here given, will spell the name of one of Washing-
ton Irving'searliest works. FRANCESCO AND CO."


EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters,
and the zigzag, beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell an
important event that occurred on August 5, 1856.
CROSS-WORDS: T. Certain. 2. An exhibition. 3. Merriment.
4. Festivity. 5. To satisfy. 6. To strike. 7. A minute particle.
8. Formerly. 9. Recent. to. Half. i. Nationality. 12. Pain.
13. Dry. 14. Capable. 15. An elevation. 16. Toengage., 17.
Hearty. 18. To salute. r9. Want. 2o. Notion. 21. To cook
slowly. 2. To twist. "KATASHAW."