Front Cover
 Stories of art and artists: English...
 Under the snow
 Nan's revolt
 Little lord Fauntleroy
 A Lake George capsize
 A Rocky Mountain hermit
 George Washington
 Toddlekins and trot
 Our adventure at the flume
 The crafty crab
 The kelp-gatherers
 The ambitious kangaroo
 Wonders of the alphabet
 The brownies at lawn-tennis
 A matter-of-fact Cinderella
 The tea-party
 Work and play for young folk: Venetian...
 Lesson in geography
 The Agassiz association - Sixty-fifth...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00175
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00175
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Stories of art and artists: English painters
        Page 802
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
        Page 806
        Page 807
        Page 808
        Page 809
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
    Under the snow
        Page 815
    Nan's revolt
        Page 816
        Page 817
        Page 818
        Page 819
        Page 820
        Page 821
    Little lord Fauntleroy
        Page 822
        Page 823
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
        Page 827
        Page 828
    A Lake George capsize
        Page 829
        Page 830
        Page 831
    A Rocky Mountain hermit
        Page 832
        Page 833
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
        Page 837
    George Washington
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
    Toddlekins and trot
        Page 843
    Our adventure at the flume
        Page 844
    The crafty crab
        Page 845
        Page 846
    The kelp-gatherers
        Page 847
        Page 848
        Page 849
        Page 850
        Page 851
        Page 852
    The ambitious kangaroo
        Page 853
    Wonders of the alphabet
        Page 854
        Page 855
        Page 856
    The brownies at lawn-tennis
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
    A matter-of-fact Cinderella
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
        Page 863
        Page 864
    The tea-party
        Page 865
    Work and play for young folk: Venetian Marquetry; or, a perfect imitation of inlaid wood-work
        Page 866
        Page 867
        Page 868
        Page 869
    Lesson in geography
        Page 870
        Page 871
        Page 872
        Page 873
    The Agassiz association - Sixty-fifth report
        Page 874
        Page 875
    The letter-box
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
    The riddle-box
        Page 879
        Page 880
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

6 `

(SEE PAGE 814.)


~il~~iLd; t.



VOL. XIII. SEPTEMBER, 1886. No. is.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



WHEN Henry VIII. came to the throne of Eng-
land, he was a magnificent prince. He loved
pleasure and pomp and invited many foreign
artists to his court. After a time, however, he
became indifferent to art, and it is difficult to say
whether he lessened or added to the art-treasures
of England.
The long reign of Queen Elizabeth-forty-seven
years-afforded great opportunity for the encour-
agement of art. But most of the painters whom
she employed were foreigners.
King Charles I. was a true lover of art. Rubens
and Vandyck were his principal painters, and
Inigo Jones his architect; the choice of such
artists proves the excellence of his artistic taste and
judgment. He employed many other foreign art-
ists, of whom it need only be said that the English
artists profited much by their intercourse with them,
as well as by the study of foreign pictures which the
King purchased.
In fact, before the time of William Hogarth, por-
traits had been the only pictures of any importance
which were painted by English artists, and no one
painter had become very eminent. No native
master had originated a manner of painting
which he could claim as his own.
Hogarth was born near Ludgate Hill, London,
in 1697.
In 1734, he produced some works which im-
mediately made him famous. He had originated
a manner of his own; he had neither attempted
to illustrate the stories of Greek Mythology,

nor to invent allegories, as so many painters
had done before him; he simply gave form to
the nature that was all about him, and painted
just what he could see in London every day.
His pictures of this sort came to be almost num-
berless, and no rank in society, no phase of life,
escaped the truthful representation of his brush.
He was a teacher as well as an artist, for his
pictures dealt with familiar scenes and subjects
and presented the lessons of the follies of his
day with more effect upon the mass of the people
than any writer could produce with his pen, or
any preacher by his sermons.
Hogarth died at his house in Leicester Fields,
on October 26, 1764.
His success aroused a strong faith and a new
interest in the native art of England, which
showed their results in the establishment of the
Royal Academy of Arts. A little more than four
years after Hogarth's death, this Academy was
founded by King George III. The original mem-
bers of the Academy numbered thirty-four, and
among them was
who afterward became its first president.
His father, Samuel Reynolds, was the rector of
a grammar school at Plympton, in Devonshire,
and in that little hamlet, on July 16, 1723, was
born Joshua, the seventh of eleven children.
When Joshua was but a mere child, his father
was displeased to find him devoted to drawing; on


a sketch which the boy had made, his father
wrote: "This is drawn by Joshua in school, out
of pure idleness." The child found the Jesuit's
Treatise on Perspective," and studied it with such
intelligence that before he was eight years old he
made a sketch of the school and its cloister which
was so accurate that his astonished father exclaimed,
" Now this justifies the author of the Perspective'
when he says that, by observing the laws laid down
in his book, a man may do wonders; for this is
wonderful "
When about twelve years old, Joshua, while in
church, made a sketch upon his thumb-nail of the
Rev. Thomas Smart. From this sketch, he painted
his first picture in oils; his canvas was a piece of
an old sail, his colors were common ship-paint,
and he did his work in a boathouse on Cremyll
In 1740, when Joshua was seventeen years old,
his father tried to carry out his plan to apprentice
him to a druggist, but the boy was greatly opposed
to this. He said, I would prefer to be an apoth-
ecary rather than an ..'. :,i painter; but if I
could be bound to an eminent master, I should
choose that." Fortunately Lord Edgecumbe and
other friends advised the boy's father in his favor,
and so Joshua was finally sent to London and bound
to Thomas Hudson, then the best portrait painter
in England. After two years, Hudson suddenly
dismissed the youth from his studio, though his
agreement was for four years; the master said that
Joshua neglected his orders, but others believed
Hudson to be jealous of his pupil's success.
Joshua returned to Devonshire and settled at
Plymouth, five miles from his home. There he
painted about thirty portraits of the principal per-
sons of the neighborhood, at the price of three
guineas each. One of these portraits, painted in
1746, was shown to him thirty years later, when he
lamented that his progress in all that time had
been so little.
At the home of his friend, Lord Edgecumbe, he
had formed a friendship with the young Commo-
dore Keppel, who in 1749 was ordered to the
Mediterranean. He invited Reynolds to sail with
him as his guest, and, the invitation being ac-
cepted, the painter did not return to England until
the end of 1752. He visited Portugal, Spain,
Algiers, Minorca, Italy, and France.
He kept diaries during this journey, which are
very interesting and valuable; they contain many
sketches of scenes and pictures which he admired,
as well as his written opinions of all that he saw.
Several of these diaries are in the Lenox Library,
in New York; others are in the Soane Museum,
London, and in the Museum of Berlin.
Not long after his return to England, Reynolds

settled himself in London. He lived in handsome
rooms in St. Martin's Lane, and his sister Frances
was his housekeeper.
Very soon Reynolds's studio came to be the pop-
ular resort of artists, and, through the influence of
Lord Edgecumbe, many nobles became his patrons.
He painted a full-length portrait of Commodore
Keppel, which at once established his reputation.
The Commodore was represented as standing on a
rocky shore with a stormy sea in the background.
This picture was received with enthusiasm, and in
his second London year Reynolds had one hundred
and twenty sitters, among whom were many nota-
ble people. The artist removed to Great Newport
street, and charged twelve guineas for a bust,
twenty-four guineas for half-length and double that
sum for a full-length portrait.
Dr. Johnson and Reynolds met for the first time
in 1753, and from that time they were faithful
friends. Dr. Johnson delighted not only in Rey-
nolds's success as a painter, but, perceiving his
other talents, he insisted on his writing for The
Idler, by which means the artist published a
series of brilliant articles and made himself a name
in literary circles. This kindness was more than
repaid, for, after Dr. Johnson became too poor to
keep house for himself, he was always welcome to
the home and purse of Reynolds.
In 1760, the master again raised his prices for
his work, and at about the same time established
himself in the house in Leicester Square, in which
he passed the remainder of his life. This house was
very fine, and, though it exhausted all his savings to
fit it up, he spent still more in setting up a gorgeous
carriage for his sister, and in other expenses which
served to advertise his success to all who observed
Reynolds seemed to have reached the height of
popularity, when, in 1768, he was elected first
President of the Royal Academy, and was knighted
by the King. He was of great advantage to the
Academy, and heartily devoted to its interests.
He was active in establishing its schools and equip-
ping them with models, libraries, and conveniences
for study; he gave much attention to its exhibi-
tions, and founded the famous Academy dinners,
at which men of rank and genius were brought to-
gether in such a way as to render these occasions
the most remarkable gatherings in the United King-
dom. From time to time he also delivered his
well-known "Discourses on Art," which are not-
able alike for the good judgment in the selection
of the subjects treated, and for the literary skill
with which they are written.
About 1770, Sir Joshua built a villa at Richmond
Hill. In the same year, he spent a month in
Plympton, and at that time also, he brought to




his home his niece, Theophila Palmer, who re-
mained with him until her marriage, eleven years
later. She was very beautiful, and is known to all
the world as the Offy" of the famous Straw-
berry Girl." Other pictures of her which Sir
Joshua painted also became famous.
With the exception of the trip with Commodore
Keppel Sir Joshua spent little time out of England.
In 1768 he visited Paris, and in 1780 he passed two
months in Holland and Germany. When absent
from London, he was usually at the house of some
friend in the country, or at his old home, of which
he was always fond.

stature, Sir Joshua Reynolds was rather under the
middle size, of a florid complexion, roundish, blunt
features, and a lively aspect; not corpulent, though
somewhat inclined to it, but extremely active;
with manners uncommonly polished and agree-
able. In conversation, his manner was perfectly
natural, simple, and unassuming. He most heart-
ily enjoyed his profession, in which he was both
famous and illustrious; and I agree with Mr.
Malone, who says he appeared to him to be the
happiest man he had ever known."
In 1789, Sir Joshua lost the sight of his left eye,
and though this changed his whole life, he retained


Few men have been so much admired by such a
diversity of people as was Sir Joshua Reynolds.
The testimony of his friends presents him to us
as a man of admirable character. Perhaps no one
knew him more intimately than James Northcote,
who was received into his family as a poor Devon-
shire lad; he remained with Sir Joshua five years,
and left him a prosperous painter. Northcote
found him kindly, modest, and lovable in every
way. He thus describes him personally: In his

his calm cheerfulness, and occupied his mind with
the exciting topics of the time; for it happened
that the storming of the Bastille occurred in the
very week in which he gave up his pencil. He
still used his brush a very little to finish or retouch
works which were still on his hands, but he sadly
said: There is now an end of pursuit; the race
is over, whether it is lost or won."
In 1790, troubles arose in the Academy, and Sir
Joshua felt himself so badly used that he resigned


his presidency and his membership of the institu-
tion. The King requested him to return, but he
refused until the Academy publicly apologized to
him. He then resumed his office, and in Decem-
ber delivered his final discourse.
The remainder of his life was a gradual decline ;
his sight grew weaker, and his strength less, until
February 23, 1792, when he died easily, never
having suffered much pain. The King directed

near the choir of the cathedral, and a Latin in-
scription recounts the talents and virtues of the
great man whom it commemorates.
Having thus traced the story of Sir Joshua's life,
it now remains to speak of him more especially as
an artist.
His highest fame is as a portrait painter, and as
such he was a great genius. He had the power to
reproduce the personal peculiarities of his subjects


that his body should lie in state in the Academy
rooms in Somerset House. The funeral was grand
and solemn; the pall-bearers were dukes, mar-
quises, earls, and lords; ninety-one carriages fol-
lowed the hearse, in which were the first nobles,
scholars, and prelates of the realm, with all the
members and students of the Academy. He was
buried near Sir Christopher Wren, in St. Paul's
Cathedral, where Vandyck had already been laid,
and where, in later years, a goodly number of
painters have been buried around him. In 1813, a
statue, by Flaxman, was erected to his memory

with great exactness; he was also able to perceive
their qualities of temper, mind, and character, and
he made his portraits so vivid with these attributes
that they were likenesses of the minds as well as of
the persons of his subjects. In his portrait of Gold-
smith, self-esteem is as prominent as the nose;
passion and energy are in every line of Burke's
face and figure; and whenever his subject possessed
any individual characteristics, they were plainly
shown in Reynolds's portraits. So many of these
pictures are famous that we can not speak of them
in detail. Perhaps no one portrait is better known




than that of the famous actress, Mrs. Sarah Sid-
dons, as the Tragic Muse. It is a noble example
of an idealized portrait, and it is said that the
" Isaiah of Michael Angelo suggested the man-
ner in which it is painted. Sir Thomas Lawrence
declared this to be the finest portrait of a women
in the world, and it is certain that this one picture
would have made any painter famous. Sir Joshua
inscribed his name on the border of the robe, and
courteously explained to the lady, "I could not
lose the honor this opportunity afforded me of
going down to posterity on the hem of your gar-
The original of this work is said to be that
in the gallery of the Duke of Westminster; a
second is in the Dulwich Gallery. In speaking of
Sir Joshua as a portrait painter, Mr. Ruskin says:
" Considered as a painter of individuality in the
human form and mind, I think him the prince of
portrait painters. Titian paints nobler pictures,
and Vandyck had nobler subjects, but neither of
them entered so subtly as Sir Joshua did into the
minor varieties of heart and temper."
His portraits of simply beautiful women can
scarcely be equaled in the world. He perfectly
reproduced the delicate grace and beauty of some
of his sitters and the brilliant, dazzling charms of
others. He loved to paint richly hued velvets in
contrast with rare laces, ermine, feathers, and
jewels. It is a regret that so many of his works
are faded, but after all we must agree with Sir
George Beaumont, when he said: Even a faded
picture from him will be the finest thing you can
The most attractive of his works are his pict-
ures of children. It is true that they too are
portraits, but they are often represented in some
fancy part, such as the Strawberry Girl," a por-
trait of his niece Offy; Muscipula, who holds a
mouse-trap; the Little Marchioness; the Girl
with a Mob-cap, and many others. He loved to
paint pictures of boys in all sorts of characters,
street-peddlers, gipsies, cherubs, and so on. He
often picked up boy models in the street and
painted from them in his spare hours, between his
appointments with sitters. Sometimes he scarcely
hustled a beggar boy out of his chair in time for
some grand lady to seat herself in it. It is said
that one day one of these children fell asleep in so
graceful an attitude that the master seized a fresh
canvas and made a sketch of it; this was scarcely
done, when the child threw himself into a different
pose without awakening. Sir Joshua added a
second sketch to the first and from these made his

beautiful picture of The Babes in the Wood."
More than two hundred of his pictures of children
have been engraved, and these plates form one of
the loveliest collections that can be made from the
works of any one artist.
When Sir Joshua was at the height of his power,
he was accustomed to receive six sitters a day, and
he often completed a portrait in four hours.
Good prints from his works are now becoming
rare and are valuable.
As we close this account of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
it is pleasant to remember that so great a man was
so good a man, and to believe that Burke did not
flatter him when, in his eulogy, he said : "In full
affluence of foreign and domestic fame, admired
by the expert in art and by the learned in science,
courted by the great, caressed by sovereign
powers, and celebrated by distinguished poets, his
native humility, modesty, and candor never for-
sook him, even on surprise or provocation; nor
was the least degree of arrogance or assumption
visible to the most scrutinizing eye in any part of
his conduct or discourse."


was another original member of the Academy, and
though not the first English artist who had painted
landscapes, he was the first whose pictures merited
the honorable recognition which they now have.
Wilson's story is a sad one; he was not appre-
ciated while he lived, and his whole life was sad-
dened by seeing the works of foreign artists, which
were inferior to his own, sold for good prices, while
he was forced to sell his to pawnbrokers, who, it
is said, could not dispose of them at any price.
Wilson was the son of a clergyman and was born
at Pinegas, in Montgomeryshire, in 1713. He first
painted portraits and earned money with which,
in 1749, he went to Italy, where he remained six
years. His best works were Italian views, and he
is now considered as the best landscape painter of
his day, with the one exception of Gainsborough.
Wilson died in 1782, and it is pleasant to know
that after more than sixty years of poverty he re-
ceived a legacy from a brother, and the last two
years of his life were years of peaceful comfort.


though a great artist, had an uneventful life. He
was the son of a clothier and was born in Sudbury,
in Suffolk, in 1727. His boyish habit of wandering
about the woods and streams of Suffolk, making

* An engraving of this picture was given as the frontispiece of ST. NICHOLAS for April, 1876; and our readers will remember also the
account of Sir Joshua Reynolds's portrait of Little Penelope Boothby" in ST, NICHOLAS for November, 1875, illustrated with a full-page
reproduction of the painting.-ED.



sketches, and finding in this his greatest pleasure,
induced his father to send him to London to study
art, when about fifteen years old. He studied
first under a French engraver, Gravelot, who was
of much advantage to him; next he was a pupil of
Francis Hayman at the Academy, in St. Martin's
Lane, but Nature was his real teacher.
After a time he settled in Hatton Square, and
painted both portraits and landscapes. But at the
end of four years of patient work, his patrons were
so few that he left London and returned to Sudbury.
It happened that once when he was sketch-
ing a wood-scene, Margaret Burr had crossed his
line of sight; he had added her figure to his pict-
ure, and from this circumstance they had come to
be friends. Soon after, Gainsborough returned to
his home, and Margaret became his wife. He was
careless and unthrifty, while she was quite the
reverse. She was thus a true helpmate to him,
and to her carefulness we owe the preservation of
many of his pictures.
After his marriage, Gainsborough settled in
Ipswich; in 1760 he removed to Bath, and here
both in portraits and landscapes he made such a
reputation, that when, fourteen years later, he
removed to London, he was considered the rival
of Reynolds in portraits and of Wilson as a painter
of scenery. Gainsborough was one of the origi-
nal Academicians, and on one occasion at a
gathering of artists, Sir Joshua Reynolds pro-
posed the health of Gainsborough, and called him
"the greatest landscape painter of the day." Wil-
son, who was present, was piqued by this, and
"Yes, and the greatest portrait painter, too."
Sir Joshua realized that he had been ungracious
and apologized to Wilson.
Gainsborough exhibited many works in the
gallery of the Academy, but in 1783 he was
offended by the hanging of one of his portraits,
and refused to send his pictures there afterward.
He was an impulsive, passionate man, and he
had several disputes with Sir Joshua, who always
admired and praised the work of his rival. But
when about to die, Gainsborough sent for Rey-
nolds to visit him, and all their differences were
healed. The truth was that they had always re-
spected and admired each other. The last words
of Gainsborough were:
"We are all going to heaven, and Vandyck is
of the company."
He died August 2, 1788.'
The celebrated Blue Boy," by Gainsborough,
now in the Grosvenor Gallery, is said to have been
painted to spite Sir Joshua, who had said that blue
should not be used in masses.
But there was a soft and lovable side to this

wayward man. His love for music was a passion,
and he once gave a painting of his, "The Boy
at the Stile," to Colonel Hamilton as a reward
for his playing the flute.
His portraits may be thought to have too much
of a bluish gray in the flesh tints, but they are
always graceful and pleasing. In 1876, his famous
painting "The Duchess of Devonshire" was sold
for the exceptionally high price of fifty thousand


was born at Beckside, in Cumberland, in 1734.
His life was very discreditable.
It is more pleasant to speak of his pictures, for
his portraits were so fine that he was a worthy
rival to Sir Joshua Reynolds. His pictures are
mostly in private galleries, but that of the beauti-
ful Lady Hamilton, in the National Gallery, is a
famous work. He was ambitious to paint histori-
cal subjects, and some of his imaginary pictures
are much admired. He was fitful in his art, and he
began so many works which he left unfinished,
that they were finally removed from his studio by
cart-loads. There was also an incompleteness in
the pictures which he called finished; in short,
the want of steadfastness, which made him an
unfaithful husband and father, went far to lessen his
artistic merit. At the same time, it is true that he
was a great artist and justly celebrated in his best
days; his works excel in vigorous drawing and brill-
iant, transparent color. His pictures are rarely
sold, and are as valuable as those of his great con-
temporaries, Reynolds and Gainsborough.


is the only other portrait painter of whom mention
need be made here. He was born at Bristol, in
1769, and much of his work belongs to our own
His father had been trained for the law, but
had become an inn-keeper. When a mere child,
Thomas entertained his father's customers by his
recitations, and took their portraits with equal
When he was ten years old, his family removed
to Oxford, where he rapidly improved in his draw-
ing. When he first saw a picture by Rubens he
wept bitterly and sobbed out:
"Oh, I shall never be able to paint like that! "
In 1785, he received a silver palette from the
Society of Arts as a reward for a copy of Raphael's
" Transfiguration," which he had made when but
thirteen years old.
In 1787, the young painter entered the Royal






Academy, London, and from that time his course
was one of repeated successes. Sir Joshua Rey-
nolds was his friend and adviser; he early attracted
the attention of the King and Queen, whose por-
traits he painted when but twenty-two years old.
He was elected to the Academy in 1794; after Sir
Joshua's death he was appointed painter to the
King; he was knightedin 1815, and five years later
he was elected president of the Academy. He was

But all this did him little good, for somehow he
was continually in debt and always poor.
In 1814 he visited Paris, but he was recalled that
he might paint the portraits of the allied sover-
eigns, their statesmen, and generals. These works
were the first of the series of portraits of great men
in the Waterloo Chamber at Windsor Castle. In
1818 he attended the Congress at Aix-la-Chapelle,
for the purpose of adding portraits of notable

Z .--



also a member of many foreign academies and a
Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. Rarely is
the path to honor and fame made so easy as it was
to Sir Thomas Lawrence.
. His London life was brilliant. His studio was
crowded with sitters, and money flowed into his
purse in a generous stream,- for his prices were
larger than any other English painter had asked.

people to the gallery of the Prince-Regent. At
length he was sent to Rome to paint a likeness of
the Pope and Cardinal Gonsalvi. He seems to
have been inspired with new strength by his near-
ness to the works of the great masters in the Eternal
City, for those two portraits are in merit far beyond
his previous work, and after his return to England
from 1820 to 1830, his pictures had a vigor and




worth that was wanting at every other period of
his life. While in Rome, he also painted a portrait
of Canova which he presented to the Pope.
When he reached London, he found himself to
be the president-elect of the Academy; it was a
great honor, and Lawrence accepted it with
George IV., following the example of the gra-
ciousness of Charles I. toward Vandyck, hung
upon the painter's neck a gold chain bearing a
medal, on which the likeness of his majesty was
engraved. In the catalogue of the Academy, 1820,
Lawrence is called Principal Painter in Ordi-
nary to his Majesty, Member of the Roman
Academy of St. Luke's, of the Academy of Fine
Arts in Florence, and of the Fine Arts in New
York." To the last he had been elected in 1818,
and had sent to the academy a full-length portrait
of Benjamin West.
From that time on, there is little to relate of his
life, except that he was always busy and each year
sent eight fine works to the Academy Exhibition.
His friends and patrons showed him much consider-
ation, and various honors were added to his list,
already long. He was always worried in regard to
money matters, and he grieved much over the
illness of his favorite sister, but there was no strik-
ing event to change the even current of his life.
On January 7, 1830, he expired suddenly, ex-
claiming, This is dying,"-almost the same
words used by George IV., a few months later.
Sir Thomas Lawrence was a man of fine personal
qualities ; his generosity maybe called his greatest
fault, for his impulses led him to give more than
he had-a quality which causes us to admire a
man while at the same moment it makes him
guilty of grave faults.
He was always generous to unfortunate artists
and, in that way, he spent large sums. He was
also true to his ideas of right and wrong, even at
the expense of his own advantage.
As an artist, Lawrence can not be given a very
high rank, in spite of the immense successes of
his life. As in every case, there are opposite
opinions concerning him. He has hearty admirers,
but he is also accused of mannerisms and weakness.
His early works are the most satisfactory, because
most natural; they are good in design, and rich
in color.


was an artist of great genius, and has exercised a
powerful influence on the art of the nineteenth
century. He was the son of a barber, and was
born in Maiden Lane, London (a squalid alley in
the parish of Covent Garden), on April 23, 1775.

When the boy was five years old, he was taken by
his father to the house of a customer of the barber's,
and while the shaving and combing went on, the
child studied the figure of a rampant lion engraved
upon a piece of silver. After his return home, he
drew a copy of the lion so excellent that it decided
his career, for then and there the father determined
that his son should be an artist. As a child and
youth, he was always sketching, and while he was
fond of nature in all her features, he yet had a
preference for water views with boats and cliffs
and shining waves.
In 1789, when fourteen years old, he entered the
classes of the Royal Academy, where he worked
hard in drawing from Greek models. He had the
good fortune to be employed by Dr. Munro to do
some copying and other works, and by this stroke
of luck he revelled in the fine pictures and valuable
drawings with which the house of his patron was
filled. Toward the end of Sir Joshua Reynolds's
life, Turner was a frequent visitor at his studio.
In 1790, he sent his first contribution to the
Academy Exhibition; it was a view of Lambeth
Palace, in water-colors. During the next ten
years, he exhibited more than sixty works, embrac-
ing a great variety of subjects. The pictures
included views from more than twenty-six counties
of England and Wales.
In 1802, he was made a full member of the Acad-
emy and he also visited the continent for the first
time, traveling through France and Switzerland
only. He visited Italy in 1819, in 1829, and again
in 1840.
The pictures of Turner are often compared with
those of Claude Lorraine, and at times he painted
in rivalry with Cuyp, Poussin, and Claude, aiming
to adopt the manner of these masters.
In 1806, Turner followed the example of the
great Lorraine in another direction. Claude had
made a Liber Veritatis, or Book of Truth," con-
taining sketches of his finished pictures, in order
that the works of other painters could not be sold
as his. Turner determined to make a LiberStudio-
rum, or "Book of Studies." It was issued in a
series of twenty numbers, containing five plates
each, and the subscription price was /17. os.
There were endless troubles with the engravers
and it was not paying well, and was abandoned
after seventy plates were issued. It seemed to be
so worthless that Charles Turner, one of the en-
gravers, used some of the proofs for kindling paper.
After the artist became famous, however, this
Liber Studiorum grew to be very valuable. Before
Turner died, a copy was worth thirty guineas, and
more recently a single copy has brought three
thousand pounds, or nearly fifteen thousand dol-
lars. Colnaghi, the London print dealer, paid


Charles Turner fifteen hundred pounds for the
proofs which he had not destroyed; and when the
old engraver remembered how he had lighted his
fires, he exclaimed, I have been burning bank-
notes all my life."
Turner grew very rich, but he lived in a mean,

was that of a very common person, and it is im-
possible to understand how a man who so admired
the beautiful in nature could live in so miserly a
manner as that of Turner.
Some time before his death, Turner seemed to be
hiding himself; his friends could not discover his


careless style. As long as his father lived, he waited retreat, until, at last, his old housekeeper traced
upon his great son as a servant might have done; him to a dingy Chelsea cottage. When his friends
and after his death, an untidy, wizened old woman, went to him, he was dying, and the end soon
Mrs. Danby, was the only person to care for the came. His funeral, from Queen Anne street, was
house or the interests of the painter. His dress an imposing one. The body was taken to St.





Paul's Cathedral, and there, surrounded by a large
company of artists and followed by the faithful old
woman, it was laid to rest between the tombs of
Sir Joshua Reynolds and James Barry. His estate
was valued at about seven hundred thousand dol-
lars and he desired that most of it should be used
to establish a home for poor artists, to be called
Turner's Gift. But the will was not clearly written
-his relatives contested it, and in the end, his
pictures and drawings were given to the National
Academy; one thousand pounds was devoted to a
monument to his memory; twenty thousand pounds
established the Turner Fund in the Academy and
yields annuities to six poor artists; and the re-
mainder was divided amongst his kinsfolk.
Perhaps there never was a painter about whose
works more extreme and conflicting opinions have
been advanced. Some of his admirers claim for
him the very highest place in art. His enemies
can see nothing good in his works and say that they
may as well be hung one side up as another, since
they are only a mixture of splashes of color, and lights
and shades. Neither extreme is correct. In some
respects, Turner is at the head of English landscape
painters, and no other artist has had the power to
paint so many different kinds of subjects or to em-
ploy such variations of style in his work. His
water-colors are worthy of the highest praise; in-
deed, he created a school of water-color painting.
At the same time, it is proper to say that the works
executed in his latest period are not even com-
mended by Ruskin,-his most enthusiastic ad-
mirer,-and are not to be classed with those of his
earlier days and his best manner.
This master was so fruitful, and he made so vast
a number of pictures in oil and water-colors, of
drawings, and of splendid illustrations for books,
that we have no space in which to speak properly
of the different periods of his art. A large and fine
collection of his paintings is in the South Kensing-
ton Museum; The Old Temeraire," the picture
which he would never sell, is there. The Slave
Ship," one of his finest pictures, is owned in
Boston, and other celebrated works of his are in
New York; but most of his pictures, outside the
South Kensington Museum, and the National Gal-
lery, are in private collections, where no catalogues
have ever been made, so that no estimate of the
whole number can be given.
I shall tell you of but one more English painter,-
an artist whose life and works are both very interest-
ing, and of whom all young people must be fond,-


He was the youngest of the three sons of John
Landseer, the eminent engraver, and was born at

No. 83 Queen Anne street, London, in March, 1802.
The eldest son, Thomas, followed the profession of
his father, and in later years, by his faithful engrav-
ing after the works of Edwin, he did much to con-
firm the great fame of his younger brother. Charles,
the second son of John Landseer, was a painter of
historical subjects, and held the office of Keeper of
the Royal Academy during twenty years.
Edwin Landseer had the good fortune to be aided
and encouraged in his artistic tastes and studies,
even from his babyhood, for there are now in the
South Kensington Museum, sketches of animals
made in his fifth year, and good etchings which he
did when eight years old.
John Landseer taught his son to look to nature
alone as his model. When fourteen, he entered
the Academy schools, and divided his time be-
tween drawing in the classes and sketching from
the wild beasts at Exeter Change. He was a
handsome, manly boy, and the keeper, Fuseli,
was very fond of him, calling him, as a mark of
affection, My little dog boy."
He was very industrious and painted many
pictures; the best of those known as his early
works is the Cat's Paw." It represents a mon-
key using the paw of a cat to push hot chestnuts
from the top of a heated stove; the struggles of
the cat are useless* and her kittens mew to no
purpose. This picture was once sold for one hun-
dred pounds ; it is now in the collection of the Earl
of Essex, at Cashiobury, and is worth more than
three thousand pounds. It was painted in 1822.
Sir Walter Scott was in London when the
"Cat's Paw" was exhibited, and he was so pleased
by the picture that he sought out the young painter
and invited him to go home with him. Sir Walter's
well-known love of dogs was a foundation for the
intimate affection which grew up between himself
and Landseer. In 1824, the painter first saw Scot-
land, and during fifty years he studied its people,
its scenery, and its customs; he loved them all and
could ever draw new subjects and new enthusiasm
from the breezy north. Sir Walter wrote in his
journal, Landseer's dogs are the most magnificent
things I ever saw, leaping and bounding and
grinning all over the canvas." The friendship of
Sir Walter had a great effect upon the young
painter; it developed the imagination and ro-
mance in his nature and he was affected by the
human life of Scotland so that he painted the shep-
herd, the gillie, and the poacher, and made his
pictures speak the tenderness and truth as well as
the fearlessness and the hardihood of the Gaelic
Landseer remained in the home of his father,
until he was a person of such importance that his
friends felt that his dignity demanded a separate


establishment and urged this upon him. He could
not lightly sever his home ties, and it was after
much hesitation that he removed to No. I St.
John's Wood Road, where he passed the remainder
of his life. He named his home Maida Vale,"
in remembrance of the favorite dog of Sir Walter
Scott. It was a small house with a garden and a
barn, which he converted into a studio; from time
to time he enlarged and improved it, and it became
the resort of a distinguished circle of people who
learned to love it for its generous hospitality and
its atmosphere of joyous content.
The best period of Landseer's life was from 1824
to 1840. In the latter year, he had the first attack
of a disease from which he was never again entirely
free; he suffered from seasons of depression that
shadowed all his life with gloom, and at times al-
most threatened the loss of his reason.
It is said that Landseer was the first person who
opened a communication between Queen Victoria
and the literary and artistic society of England.
Be that as it may, he was certainly the first artist
to be received as a friend by the Queen, who soon
placed him on an unceremonious and easy footing
in her household.
He was a frequent visitor at the royal palaces
and received many rich gifts from both Queen
Victoria and Prince Albert.* Between 1835 and
1866, he painted a great many pictures of the
Queen, of the various members of her family and
of the pets of the royal household. In 1850 he
was knighted and was at the very height of his
popularity and success.
With the single exception of Sir Joshua Rey-
nolds, he visited and received in his own house
more distinguished persons than any other Brit-
ish artist. He was the intimate friend of Dickens,
Chantrey, Sidney Smith, and other famous men.
Landseer had an extreme fondness for studying
and making pictures of lions, and from the time
when, as a boy, he dissected one, he tried to obtain
the body of every lion that died in London. Dick-
ens was in the habit of relating that on one occa-
sion, when he and others were dining with the
artist, a servant entered and asked, Did you
order a lion, sir ? as if it was the most natural
thing in the world. The guests feared that a liv-
ing lion was about to enter, but it turned out to be
the body of the dead Nero," of the Zo6logical
Gardens, which had been sent as a gift to Sir
His skill in drawing was marvelous, and was
once shown in a rare way at a large evening party.
Facility in drawing had been the theme of conver-
sation, when a lady declared that no one had yet
drawn two objects at the same moment. Landseer
would not allow that this could not be done, and

immediately took two pencils and drew a horse's
head with one hand and at the same time, a
stag's head with the other hand. He painted
with great rapidity; he once sent to the exhib-
ition a picture of rabbits painted in three-quar-
ters of an hour. Mr. Wells relates that at one
time when Landseer was visiting him, he left the
house for church just as his butler placed a fresh
canvas on the easel before the painter; on his
return, three hours later, Landseer had completed
a life-sized picture of a fallow-deer, and so well
was it done that neither he nor the artist could
see that it required retouching.
Several portraits of Landseer exist and are well
known, but that called the "Connoisseurs," painted
in 1865 for the Prince of Wales, is of great inter-
est. Here the artist has painted a half-length por-
trait of himself engaged in drawing, while two dogs
look over his shoulders with a critical expression.
In 1840, Landseer made a quite extended tour
in Europe, and that was the only time that he
was long absent from Great Britain. In 1853,
several of his works were sent to the Exposition in
Paris; he was the only English artist who received
the great gold medal.
Sir Edwin Landseer was also a sculptor, and
though he executed but few works in this art, the
colossal lions at the base of Nelson's Monument in
Trafalgar Square, London, are a triumph for him.
He was chosen for this work on account of his great
knowledge of the "king of beasts."
At his death he had modeled but one; the
others were copied from it under the care of the
Baron Marochetti.
Sir Edwin continued to work in spite of sadness,
failing health and sight, and in the last year of his
life he executed four pictures, one being an eques-
trian portrait of the Queen.
He died October I, 1873, and was buried with
many honors in St. Paul's Cathedral. He left a
property of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds;
the pictures and drawings in his studio were sold
for seventy thousand pounds, and all this large
sum, with the exception of a few small bequests,
was given to his brother Thomas and his three
sisters, ten thousand pounds being given to his
brother Charles.
I suppose that many of the pictures of Sir Ed-
win Landseer are well known to the readers of ST.
NICHOLAS. "High Life" and "Low Life," "A
Highland Breakfast," Dignity and Impudence,"
the "Cat's Paw," "The Monarch of the Glen," the
" Piper and Nutcrackers," and others, are familiar
in the form of prints to many people in many lands,
and they are pictures which all must love. It is
needless to add any long opinion of the artistic
qualities of this master; the critic Hamerton has




happily summed up an estimate of him in these
words: Everything that can be said about Land-
seer's knowledge of animals, and especially of dogs,
has already been said. There was never very much
to say, for there was no variety of opinions, and
nothing to discuss. Critics may write volumes of
controversy about Turner and Delacroix, but

Landseer's merits are so obvious to every one that
he stood in no need of critical explanations. The
best commentators on Landseer, the best defenders
of his genius, are the dogs themselves; and so
long as there exist terriers, deer-hounds, and blood-
hounds, his fame will need little assistance from
writers upon art."




ALL in the bleak December weather,
When north winds blow,
Five little clovers lay warm together
Under the snow.
" Wait," said they, till the robins sing;
Wait, till the blossoms bud and spring;
Wait, till the rain and the sunbeams gay
Our winter blanket shall fold away -
Then, we will try to grow."

All in the fragrant May-time weather,
When south winds blow,
Five little clovers crept close together
Under the snow.
Poor, pink babies 1 They might have known
'T was only the pear-tree blossoms blown
By the frolic breeze; but they cried, "Oh, dear!
Surely the spring is late this year!
Still, we will try to grow."

All in the sultry August weather,
When no winds blow,
Five little clovers were sad together
Under the snow.
'T was only the daisies waving white
Above their heads in the glowing light;
But they cried, Will we never understand?
It always snows in this fairyland -
Yet, we will try to grow."

All in the bright September weather,
When west winds blow,
Five little clovers were glad together
Under the snow.
For now 't was the muslin kerchief cool,
Of a dear little lass on her way to school.
" The sweetest snow-fall of all," said they;
" We knew our reward would come some day,
If only we 'd try to grow! "






l H ri' Ferris tea-table was a very
cheery board, where good spir-
l Its of a most delightful and com-
__., mnendable kind flowed freely.
i- i The stiff and solemn Wilders,
-. ho partook of the joys of
iL life furtively," were inclined to
be scandalized. Who cared?
Not the Ferrises, and so, as has been said, that
happy family enjoyed life despite their critical
neighbors, and as they all gathered about the
scarlet cloth that evening, they looked like a band
that ought never to be broken.
Fun and laughter ran so high that the dear,
tired father forgot his legal cares and cracked his
jokes. These were more or less bad,-but what
matter so long as the children thought him "just
the darlingest, funniest man in the world." No
guest remained long in that genial atmosphere
without discovering the source of this sunny family-
life, and the true tendency of the current beneath
all the froth and ripple of the nonsense.
From father and mother, down to little Claire,
it was a family of friends. That was the entire
secret. There were no petty animosities, no bick-
erings; everything was open and above-board.
Sincere and loving confidence bound them to-
gether. The girls were interested in all their
father's cases in court; while he, in turn, listened to
all their girlish performances with undivided atten-
tion. No new gown or hat was completely satis-
factory until he had passed a favorable judgment.
Here in his own small court he was "Judge
Ferris," in that title's noblest sense. And the
mother? She was best sister of all among her
daughters,- "Mother and sister and queen,-
all in one precious little woman," as Nan said,
lifting her off her feet with a vigorous embrace.
But the toast was getting cold, and the festivity
began as the plates went 'round. The judicial
wrinkles in Mr. Ferris's forehead were pulled out
by those radiating from the outer corners of his
kind eyes; the mother utterly lost her authority
as the mirth rose to a gale; and nobody paid the
slightest attention to Lou's request for the honey.
"Nan," said Mrs. Ferris, laughing, "you are
the only one who is n't behaving outrageously, so
please attend to your sister's wants." But her
observant eye did not leave her daughter's thought-

ful face, and she asked, during a purely accidental
lull in the chatter,- for she sympathized even with
moods in her children:-" What is it, dear; what
are you thinking about? You seem to be taking
the butter-dish into your confidence-we are
Nan drew her eyes away, and, giving her mother
a bright look, she answered: Why, I was think-
ing of the time, before we went to boarding-
school, when Papa called Evelyn and me to him
and asked us which we would rather have him do,
scrimp us all our lives on advantages and educa-
tion, so that he could lay up something for our
future, or, instead of dowry or legacy, have our
money as we went along, depending upon our
ability for the future."
"And we voted as a single man, did n't we?"
said Evelyn.
"We did that same, Evelyn; we decided that
we wanted but little here below, but that we
wanted that little right away "
"And I recall how magnanimously you prom-
ised to share my last crust with me," said Mr.
Ferris, hitching Nan's chair nearer to him.
Yes," continued she, I '11 never desert you.
But I was going to say that I don't think I have
kept my part of the agreement. You have given
me advantages which even richer girls have not
had, and I have not done a thing with them yet.
I have had a whole year of idleness, and I 'm tired
of it, and want to go to work."
The family had heard something of this inde-
pendent mood before, but, as nothing alarming
came of it, they received this announcement with-
out any demonstration of surprise; indeed, Mr.
Ferris attended to the dissolution of the sugar in
his second cup of tea before looking up, and then
he said, "Yes ? with a slowly rising inflection.
Yes came from Nan with a short downward
one; "Yes, sir, and I have a plan this time, and
wish to consult my beloved family before doing
anything rash."
So that you can do it afterward with a clear
conscience, I suppose ?" ventured her father,
"No, I shall do something a hundred times
rasher if you oppose this plan, for it is the least
revolutionary thing I can think of."
Well?"- said her father, inquiringly.
You know how hard Aunt Hettie has tried to
induce one of us to come down to New York and



i886.] NAN'S REVOLT. 817

spend the winter with her and Uncle Nat, and how Oh, never mind that, dear child," Mr. Ferris
we have all begged off because they live so said lovingly.
quietly and so far up town, we thought we should "Yes, I will mind! That is just what makes
simply stagnate? I should like to go there this us girls so good-for-nothing;-we don't 'mind'

I i
'I .. 4

i*F A
W 't'r
i7 sx


winter, not, I blush to say, for their sakes alone,
but because I wish to study."
"What! study more?" groaned Lou, who was
only fourteen, and in the toils of cube-root.
"Yes, study more," asserted Nan. I want to
take a course of lessons in a school of design, for I
think I may do something in that line that may
pay, after a while. Now, observe the latent beauty
of my scheme. By spending the winter with them,
I shan't need any new clothes-which means that
I intend to pay for my lessons out of my own
VOL. XIII.-52.

enough I really think it
would be fun to actually
need a new dress and know
I could n't have it until I
earned it-buttons, whale-
bones, and braid. Any-
how, if it were not fun,
it would be good for my
character. Now what do
you all think?" and Nan
helped herself to cake, ob-
serving that the others had
finished theirs.
Mr. Ferris, heaving an
involuntary sigh, began:
Well, dear, as you
know, your mother and I
consider it our duty to bring
up our girls so that each
can, if the necessity should
come, earn her own living;
and perhaps the time is
here for one to fly out of
the nest to try her wings,-
ah, me!"
But that is just what I
don't want to do; and one
reason I hit upon this plan
is that it will take me away
from home only one win-
ter, perhaps, and then not
among strangers," said
"But," objected Mr.
Ferris, do you know any-
thing about this school ?"
The Cooper Institute ?
I should think so. Why,
it was reading about this
GE.) particular branch of deco-
rative art in the newspaper,

the other day, that made me think of it."
"Then, little girl," he said fondly, I think I
am pleased with your plan."
When they were all grouped before the fire, and
Mr. Ferris had drawn Nan close to him, as though
somehow he were about to lose her, Evelyn took
her mother's hand in hers and began:
Papa, don't think I am going to do nothing;
I am not like Nan, nor can I do the things she
can; but I try to believe each has a special talent,
and if I have a passion, it is for housekeeping;
and Mother and I have a lovely plan And


those two exchanged a laughing glance of great
Anything like secrecy immediately aroused in
the Ferris family the most vehement denunciation.
What do you mean ? '2 demanded the chorus.
Well, then, Mother has n't the slightest idea
what we are going to have for breakfast to-mor-
row morning, because I am the housekeeper of
this house, and I am going to buy everything and
plan everything, and pay all the bills,-with a
little pecuniary aid from you, Papa,- and make
a study of beef and poultry, while Mother is going
to do fancy-work and read French novels. But
I am only going to learn to do well what ninety-
nine girls out of every hundred have to do,-so
there "
"Splendid! splendid!" shouted Mr. Ferris,
going over to this oldest of the flock and taking
her face lovingly between his hands. I declare,
I don't know of which to be proudest; you mutu-
ally surpass each other, my children."
Wait until after to-morrow morning's break-
fast, and I fear you will be able to decide called
the new housekeeper, as she disappeared to have
a consultation with the cook.
All these revolutionary measures were not of the
sudden growth that their speedy results seem to
indicate. Any girl who enjoys the luxury of aim-
lessness during that long-desired period after she
has "finished," will, sooner or later, encounter
that arch-fiend of happiness, satiety,- the Apol-
lyon of those who exist merely to have a "good
time." Nan had been reared amidst the most
healthy influences, and her vigorous young nature
demanded more nourishing rations than those of-
fered by the life she had been leading. However,
this longing had only come of late, for she had
been most devoted to the pomps and vanities,
while her parents had looked on with some anxi-
ety, but held their peace, trusting that she would
come out all right."
Bert's surroundings were different, her home in-
fluences being wholly worldly, her mother desiring
nothing more of her daughter than that she should
move among the best circles, finally making a brill-
iant marriage. Bert had not only dutifully but
eagerly explored those aristocratic precincts, and
had enjoyed herself hugely, as she observed every-
thing in her own original and critical way, amusing
herself with her own conclusions. Her wit and
breeziness made her always welcome, and she
could even enliven the clammy atmosphere of a
young ladies' luncheon, as there was always sure
to be grateful laughter at her end of the table.
This success was exhilarating for a while, until
she began to discover that she got very little for
her pains. She herself needed stimulating; she

demanded equal exertion from others; "why
should she be interested in uninteresting people?"
she should like to know. She did n't find out.
She was already very privately admitting to herself
that she would like to shake the best circles from
center to circumference." But the poor girl
did not know what might be the social result, and
to make a break had never occurred to her as a
possibility until Nan's audacity suggested it.
So, while Bert sat on the other side of her
father's desk and signed letters in her most ele-
gant hand, Mitchell & Co., per B.," wondering
if the junior members of the firms to which she
had been writing would ever guess who "B." was,


or if they would conclude it stood for some stupid,
round-shouldered Brown or Bates or Baker,- Nan
sped down to Cathy's to be the first to announce
Bert's business career, as Evelyn's new cares de-
tained her at home.
Nan found Cathy filling a fireplace with a yel-
low glory of golden-rod.
"That 's lovely commented Nan. "But
what if you want a fire some of these cool even-
ings? "
"Why, that 's the beauty of my idea; the fire
is all ready to light under these, and when we
want one all we have to do is to let the whole
thing burn up; the golden-rod will be dried by
that time, and then I can get more. See ? "
Good; that 's sensible; for if there is any-




thing 1 hate, it is a grate too fine to have a big,
roaring fire in it. You always were an artist in
flowers. But that is n't what I came to remark.
What do you suppose Bert has done now ? "
Then followed a long talk, such as only girls are
equal to, during which Bert's clerkship and Ev-
elyn's housekeeping venture were discussed, and
Nan's own plans divulged.
"Oh, me Cathy sighed hopelessly. This
is all very soul-stirring; I only am behind. I
can't dash about and assert myself as you girls do,
and besides, I think it is my duty to stay at home
with Mother."
This duty Cathy had borne sweetly, for her
mother was a doleful companion, who was making
the mistake of casting a shadow over this daugh-
ter's life because her only other daughter had not
been spared to her. This grief and the loss of her
husband many years before had not taught her to
make the lives of those still left to her as happy
as possible; yet Cathy cheerfully made "sun-
shine in a shady place," while Fred manfully
shouldered his father's business, which weighed
heavily on his young shoulders.
But I do want an object in life besides," con-
tinued Cathy, for staying where I am put is only
half my duty. If I should relieve Mother of the
housekeeping I believe she would die, so I can't
follow Evelyn's example. What can I do? she
asked mournfully.
Nan was reflecting that there were three kinds
of girls,- those who led, like Bert; those who are
led, like Evelyn; and those who must be pushed,
like Cathy. And maybe it is my duty to push,"
she thought.
"Well, Catherine," she began, settling herself
in her chair, "would you really like to earn your
own living? "
Yes; I most certainly should like to do some-
thing toward it, for I have often wondered if
dear old Fred did n't forego part of his own prof-
its from the nursery for our sakes. Did you girls
find out your vocations all alone, without any help
or suggestion from others ? she continued.
Bert did, of course," said Nan. Who ever
knew her to take advice from anybody? But
Evelyn and I talked all day and all night, and al-
ternately propped each other's falling spirits, and
last night the jury of the entire family sat upon
us !"
Oh, yes- and Cathy sighed again. But
you see I have nobody. Mother would n't be in-
terested, and Fred would n't hear of such a thing.
He thinks a girl should be very feminine, and let
her brother support her if she has no father. No,
I must get on without sympathy."
"But you shan't I 'm here on purpose to

help you as I have been helped. I feel it my duty
to pass on the impulse."
You are a dear, good girl, and I love you,"
Cathy said gratefully. "I '11 be your humble
servant and do just what you tell me. I wish I
could go to New York with you and take lessons
in flower-painting."
You 'd never get rich selling a daisy and a
lily and a little buttercup. You would better go to
raising golden-rod in your brother's nursery, and
then peddle it about the city, filling people's fire-
places at a dollar apiece "
I wish I could. Do you know, I should just
love to raise flowers "
That's it!" screamed Nan delightedly. "Just
the thing! Have a hot-house,- cut-flowers for
the million,-beat Haas & Schaeffer out of town !
You could do it, Cathy; you have exquisite taste
in flowers, and everybody will be crazy to have a
basket or bouquet from the high-art green-house!
We girls will always buy of you,-why, Haas sent
me a lot of carnations for the Atwood party with-
out any stems to them --"
"And he never knows enough to have narcissus
or daffodils, or any of those stylish flowers ex-
citedly broke in Cathy, with dilated eyes.
And don't you charge quite five dollars apiece
for rose-buds either "
"And I will cut lots of leaves with them; and
funeral people shall not have those hideous gates
ajar' from my establishment! "
But at this both girls burst into a merry laugh, and
seriously set about discussing the ways and means.
Cathy decided to find out the cost of such an
undertaking, and the business outlook of the
project before consulting Fred.
Nan remembered that her father knew a man
somehow connected with a green-house in another
Cathy mentioned a certain corner of their grounds
where she could build hers.
Nan suggested that she go down to Johnson's
and see what books there were on the subject; and
so on, until at last they parted with a happy sense
of lively stir and aim.
But these four fortunes were not made in a day,
and the time seemed long before much but dis-
couragement was achieved. Just here is where
the masculine pertinacity is valuable. Business
results are slow, and the feminine mind chafes at
delay, and wants to see the net gain immediately.
Bert found stenography very tedious, if not
quite a bore ; and there came many days when she
would have been willing to slip back into social
inertness, and keep to her slippers and book rather
than present herself in the dingy office. Although,
when once she had conquered, it was n't so bad,




1~' 'V

*' "

N. I Ie


for there was a bright rug on the floor, and a small pense she caught on her father's face as she ap-
feather-duster, hung up by a scarlet ribbon, did peared regularly morning after morning amused
effective service. Her sense of the humorous also her, and the one of loving friendliness that began
came to her aid, for the expression of relieved sus- to settle there more than repaid her.



V \f;.:


~ -L' I.Ji'


On Saturday, at the end of her first week, she
found a little pile of silver by her plate. She
regarded it curiously for a moment, then inquired
Is this the exact sum you would have paid to
a Mr. Snipkins, had such a person been hired in
my place, and done the work I have done?"
"Exactly, Bertha; no more, no less," her father
replied, smiling.
"Earned," she murmured, slowly dropping the
pieces one by one into her purse. What a queer
feeling Money for an equivalent given-I don't
believe I shall ever spend it!"
Mr. Mitchell looked particularly pleased, as he
said: "Ah, you begin to appreciate what a dollar
stands for."
Evelyn's table blossomed out into all manner of
pretty devices, each studied from a newly pur-
chased cook-book. The butter reposed in beauti-
filly shaped rolls on a feathery bed of parsley;
even homely roasted potatoes looked inviting as
they lay in a nest made of the snowy folds of a
fringed napkin. Mr. Ferris declared he was twice
fed by Evelyn's banquets. So it was all very fine
until the bills came in at the end of the month ; not
that daintiness in serving cost anything, but she
had erred in other directions. Evelyn was in con-
sternation, for she had confidently supposed she
could save a snug little bit from the sum allotted
for housekeeping expenses, and this amount she
was at liberty to spend as she chose, and she had
already chosen to get a dozen tinted finger-glasses,
a Japanese bowl for broken ice, another for salad,
and so on, until, to her mind's eye, her table was
a dream of color and form; but when that eye
opened on the grocery bill, and the butcher's bill,
and the milk bill, and then on minus six dollars
and eighty-five cents, it nearly dropped a tear of
shame and disappointment.
"No," she thought, after suppressing her first
impulse to ask her mother what to do, no If
I have been extravagant, I must find out where,
and pay for it; and this deficit shall come out
of my own allowance. Next month I will do
And she did.
Nan wrote from New York, about the middle
of November:

Thanksgiving is coming, but I 'm not. As my highest earthly
desire is to earn twenty-five dollars, I 'm not going to spend that
much, especially as I have n't got it, forjust two days' pleasure. I
may mention, by way of a mere casual remark, that at present there
is n't the dimmest possibility of my earning a punched coin this year,
unless I happen to take a prize next spring. In my own humble
imagination I have already done this and have, of course, chosen the
things I shall buy with the money But I do wish there were no
rudiments to learn. They keep one back so! All this week I 've
devoted the forces of my nature to drawing straight lines and angles,
However, I have long suspected that one of my faults was dislike of
real hard work, so I am going to 'peg right along,' and lay founda-
There are several nice girls in the class, and Aunt Hettie says
that I may invite Ruth Manning, who has no home to go to, here to
Thanksgiving dinner. I am having a gay time shaking up this
quiet house. I play "loud waltzes on the piano," and sing at the
top of my voice, which you well know penetrates to the gables of the
garret, until the silence of these sepulchral rooms is put to flight. I
am also adding worldly touches to these same tombs, and dear Aunty
sees how much prettier they look, and wonders she never thought of
the little changes I 've made. And what do you think I trimmed
her up a bonnet; quite different from her usual head-gear, I can tell
you, with really a furtive air of style about it! -and I held her be-
fore the glass until I made her own that she liked it; and when I
marched her in to show it to Uncle Nat, and commanded him to say
it was becoming, he said it looked like one she wore when he was
courting her, whereat he kissed her, and she blushed with pleasure.
She will wear that bonnet next Sunday, although I think she
expects instant excommunication.
"Tell Evelyn I long for the locusts and wild honey she seems to
be serving up so charmingly; also that we made a great hit when we
made over my brown suit, for it is quite the thing.' I think it is
splendid of Fred Drake to loan Cathy the money to start her green
I'm going to paper my room with common manilla paper, when
I get home, and then put splashes of gilt on it, happy-go-lucky style.
I saw a room done so.
"Hug yourselves all around, for
"Your loving

Yes, Cathy's brother behaved nobly when he
once found she was determined; and, when this
hitherto gentle and submissive creature announced
to him that she could get her house built, heated,
and stocked for from six to eight hundred dollars,
mentioning other items showing careful study of
the subject, and asked if she could not have that
amount out of her share of the property, he not
only promised to fix it some way," and chucked
her under the chin, as a special mark of tenderness,
but offered her the services of a young German
boy who was in his employ.
So it was not long before the sound of the ham-
mer was heard in the land, and the first snow-
flakes of winter fell on countless panes of glass,
while her little forest of tender plants sprouted and
climbed, and blossomed in the humid air below.

(To be continued.)





--- VERY few days after the dinner-
Sparty at the Castle, almost ev-
erybody in England who read
the newspapers at all knew the
Romantic story of what had hap-
r opened at Dorincourt. It made
_-- a very interesting story when it
was told with all the details.
There was the little American boy who had been
brought to England to be Lord Fauntleroy, and
who was said to be so fine and handsome a little
fellow, and to have already made people fond of
him; there was the old Earl, his grandfather,
who was so proud of his heir; there was the
pretty young mother who had never been for-
given for marrying Captain Errol; and there was
the strange marriage of Bevis, the dead Lord
Fauntleroy, and the strange wife, of whom no one
knew anything, suddenly appearing with her son,
and saying that he was the real Lord Fauntleroy
and must have his rights. All these things were
talked about and written about, and caused a
tremendous sensation. And then there came the
rumor that the Earl of Dorincourt was not satisfied
with the turn affairs had taken, and would perhaps
contest the claim by law, and the matter might
end with a wonderful trial.
There never had been such excitement before in
the county in which Erleboro was situated. On
market-days, people stood in groups and talked
and wondered what would be done; the farmers'
wives invited one another to tea that they might
tell one another all they had heard and all they
thought and all they thought other people thought.
They related wonderful anecdotes about the Earl's
rage and his determination not to acknowledge
the new Lord Fauntleroy, and his hatred of the
woman who was the claimant's mother. But, of
course, it was Mrs. Dibble who could tell the most,
and who was more in demand than ever.
"An' a bad lookout it is," she said. "An' if
you were to ask me, ma'am, I should say as it was
a judgment on him for the way he 's treated
that sweet young cre'tur' as he parted from her
child,-for he 's got that fond of him an' that set
on him an' that proud of him as he 's a'most
drove mad by what 's happened. An' what 's
more, this new one 's no lady, as his little lord-
ship's ma is. She's a bold-faced, black-eyed thing,

as Mr. Thomas says no gentleman in livery 'u'd
bemean hisself to be guy orders by; an' let her
come into the house, he says, an' he goes out
of it. An' the boy don't no more compare with
the other one than nothing' you could mention.
An' mercy knows what's goin' to come of it all, an'
where it's to end, an' you might have knocked me
down with a feather when Jane brought the news."
In fact there was excitement everywhere at the
Castle; in the library, where the Earl and Mr.
Havisham sat and talked; in the servants' hall,
where Mr. Thomas and the butler and the other
men and women servants gossiped and exclaimed
at all times of the day; and in the stables, where
Wilkins went about his work in a quite depressed
state of mind, and groomed the brown pony
more beautifully than ever, and said mournfully
to the coachman that he "never taught a young
gen'leman to ride as took to it more natural, or
was a better-plucked one than he was. He was
a one as it were some pleasure to ride behind."
But in the midst of all the disturbance there was
one person who was quite calm and untroubled.
That person was the little Lord Fauntleroy who
was said not to be Lord Fauntleroy at all. When
first the state of affairs had been explained to him,
he had felt some little anxiousness and perplexity, it
is true, but its foundation was not in baffled ambition.
While the Earl told him what had happened, he
had sat on a stool holding on to his knee, as he
so often did when he was listening to anything
interesting; and by the time the story was finished
he looked quite sober.
"It makes me feel very queer," he said; "it
makes me feel-queer!"
The Earl looked at the boy in silence. It made
him feel queer, too--queerer than he had ever
felt in his whole life. And he felt more queer still
when he saw that there was a troubled expression
on the small face which was usually so happy.
Will they take Dearest's house away from her
-and her carriage?" Cedric asked in a rather
unsteady, anxious little voice.
"No!" said the Earl decidedly-in quite a
loud voice in fact. They can take nothing from
Ah !" said Cedric, with evident relief. Can't
they ?"
Then he looked up at his grandfather, and there
was a wistful shade in his eyes, and they looked
very big and soft.





That other boy," he said rather tremulously-
"he will have to-to be your boy now-as I was
-wont he?"
"No!" answered the Earl-and he said it so
fiercely and loudly that Cedric quite jumped.
"No?" he exclaimed, in wonderment. "Wont
he? I thought- "
He stood up from his stool quite suddenly.
Shall I be your boy, even if I 'm not going to
be an earl?" he said. Shall I be your boy, just
as I was before?" And his flushed little face was
all alight with eagerness.
How the old Earl did look at him from head to
foot, to be sure. How his great shaggy brows did
draw themselves together, and how queerly his
deep eyes shone under them-how very queerly!
My boy !" he said-and, if you '11 believe it,
his very voice was queer, almost shaky and a lit-
tle broken and hoarse, not at all what you would
expect an earl's voice to be, though he spoke more
decidedly and peremptorily even than before,-
"Yes, you '11 be my boy as long as I live; and,
by George, sometimes I feel as if you were the
only boy I had ever had."
Cedric's face turned red to the roots of his hair;
it turned red with relief and pleasure. He put
both his hands deep into his pockets and looked
squarely into his noble relative's eyes.
"Do you ? he said. Well, then, I don't care
about the earl part at all. I don't care whether
I'm an earl or not. I thought-you see, I thought
the one that was going to be the Earl would have
to be your boy, too, and-and I could n't be.
That was what made me feel so queer."
The Earl put his hand on his shoulder and drew
him nearer.
They shall take nothing from you that I can
hold for you," he said, drawing his breath hard.
" I wont believe yet that they can take anything
from you. You were made for the place, and-
well, you may fill it still. But whatever comes,
you shall have all that I can give you-all! "
It scarcely seemed as if he were speaking to a
child, there was such determination in his face
and voice; it was more as if he were making a
promise to himself -and perhaps he was.
He had never before known how deep a hold upon
him his fondness for the boy and his pride in him
had taken. He had never seen his strength and
good qualities and beauty as he seemed to see them
now. To his obstinate nature it seemed impossi-
ble-more than impossible-to give up what he
had so set his heart upon. And he had determined
that he would not give it up without a fierce struggle.
Within a few days after she had seen Mr. Havi-
sham, the woman who claimed to be Lady Faunt-
leroy presented herself at the Castle, and brought

her child with her. She was sent away. The Earl
would not see her, she was told by the footman at
the door; his lawyer would attend to her case.
It was Thomas who gave the message, and who
expressed his opinion of her freely afterward, in
the servants' hall. He "hoped," he said, "as he
had wore livery in 'igh families long enough to
know a lady when he see one, an' if that was a lady
he was no judge o' females."
The one at the Lodge," added Thomas loftily,
"'Merican or no 'Merican, she 's one o' the right
sort, as any gentleman 'u'd reckinize with 'alf a

heye. I remarked it myself to Henery when fust
we called there."
The woman drove away; the look on her hand-
some, common face half frightened, half fierce.
Mr. Havisham had noticed, during his interviews
with her, that though she had a passionate temper
and a coarse, insolent manner, she was neither so
clever nor so bold as she meant to be; she seemed
sometimes to be almost overwhelmed by the posi-
tion in which she had placed herself. It was as if
she had not expected to meet with such opposition.
"She is evidently," the lawyer said to Mrs.
Errol, a person from the lower walks of life. She
is uneducated and untrained in everything, and
quite unused to meeting people like ourselves on
any terms of equality. She does not know what



_Z~srk~ttjt II

- ------- -

-Ii- --

i' 7
I ''


I __



to do. Her visit to the Castle quite cowed her. staying. When she saw him enter the room, she
She was infuriated, but she was cowed. The Earl turned white, though she flew into a rage at once,
would not receive her, but I advised him to go and threatened and demanded in one breath."
with me to the Dorincourt Arms, where she is The fact was that the Earl had stalked into the



room and stood, looking like a venerable aristo-
cratic giant, staring at the woman from under his
beetling brows, and not condescending a word.
He simply stared at her, taking her in from head
to foot as if she were some repulsive curiosity.
He let her talk and demand until she was tired,
without himself uttering a word, and then he said:
"You say you are my eldest son's wife. If that
is true, and if the proof you offer is too much for us,
the law is on your side. In that case, your boy is
Lord Fauntleroy. The matter will be sifted to
the bottom, you may rest assured. If your claims
are proved, you will be provided for. I want to see
nothing either of you or the child so long as I live.
The place will unfortunately have enough of you
after my death. You are exactly the kind of person
I should have expected my son Bevis to choose."
And then he turned his back upon her and
stalked out of the room as he had stalked into it.
Not many days after that, a visitor was an-
nounced to Mrs. Errol, who was writing in her
little morning room. The maid, who brought the
message, looked rather excited; her eyes were
quite round with amazement, in fact, and being
young and inexperienced, she regarded her mis-
tress with nervous sympathy.
"It's the Earl hisself, ma'am!" she said in
tremulous awe.
When Mrs. Errol entered the drawing-room, a
very tall, majestic-looking old man was standing
on the tiger-skin rug. He had a handsome, grim
old face, with an aquiline profile, a long white
mustache, and an obstinate look.
Mrs. Errol, I believe?" he said.
"Mrs. Errol," she answered.
"I am the Earl of Dorincourt," he said.
He paused a moment, almost unconsciously, to
look in to her uplifted eyes. They were so like the big,
affectionate, childish eyes he had seen uplifted to his
own so often every day during the last few months,
that they gave him a quite curious sensation.
"The boy is very like you," he said abruptly.
It has been often said so, my lord," she replied,
"but I have been glad to think him like his father
As Lady Lorridaile had told him, her voice was
very sweet, and her manner was very simple and
dignified. She did not seem in the least troubled
by his sudden coming.
Yes," said the Earl, "he is like-my son-
too." He put his hand up to his big white mus-
tache and pulled it fiercely. "Do you know,"
he said, why I have come here ?"
I have seen Mr. Havisham," Mrs. Errol began,
"and he has told me of the claims which have been
made "
I have come to tell you," said the Earl, that

they will be investigated and contested, if a con-
test can be made. I have come to tell you that
the boy shall be defended with all the power of the
law. His rights- "
The soft voice interrupted him.
He must have nothing that is not his by right,
even if the law can give it to him," she said.
Unfortunately the law can not," said the Earl.
"If it could, it should. This outrageous woman
and her child-"
'"Perhaps she cares for him as much as I care
for Cedric, my lord," said little Mrs. Errol. "And
if she was your eldest son's wife, her son is Lord
Fauntleroy, and mine is not."
She was no more afraid of him than Cedric had
been, and she looked at him just as Cedric would
have looked, and he, having been an old tyrant all
his life, was privately pleased by it. People so sel-
dom dared to differ from him that there was an
entertaining novelty in it.
I suppose," he said, scowling slightly, that
you would much prefer that he should not be the
Earl of Dorincourt."
Her fair young face flushed.
It is a very magnificent thing to be the Earl
of Dorincourt, my lord," she said. I know that,
but I care most that he should be what his father
was-brave and just and true always."
In striking contrast to what his grandfather
was, eh ?" said his lordship sardonically.
"I have not had the pleasure of knowing his
grandfather," replied Mrs. Errol, but I know my
little boy believes-- She stopped short a
moment, looking quietly into his face, and then
she added, I know that Cedric loves you."
"Would he have loved me," said the Earl dryly,
"if you had told him why I did not receive you at
the Castle?"
"No," answered Mrs. Errol; "I think not. That
was why I did not wish him to know."
"Well," said my lord, brusquely, there are
few women who would not have told him."
He suddenly began to walk up and down the
room, pulling his great mustache more violently
than ever.
"Yes, he is fond of me," he said, "and I am fond
of him. I can't say I ever was fond of anything
before. I am fond of him. He pleased me from
the first. I am an old man, and was tired of my
life. He has given me something to live for. I
am proud of him. I was satisfied to think of his
taking his place some day as the head of the
He came back and stood before Mrs. Errol.
I am miserable," he said. Miserable "
He looked as if he was. Even his pride could
not keep his voice steady or his hands from shak-


ing. For a moment it almost seemed as if his
deep, fierce eyes had tears in them. "Perhaps it
is because I am miserable that I have come to
you," he said, quite glaring down at her. I used
to hate you; I have been jealous of you. This
wretched, disgraceful business has changed that.
After seeing that repulsive woman who calls, her-
self the wife of my son Bevis, I actually felt it
would be a relief to look at you. I have been an
obstinate old fool, and I suppose I have treated
you badly. You are like the boy, and the boy is the
first object in my life. I am miserable, and I came
to you merely because you are like the boy, and
he cares for you, and I care for him. Treat me as
well as you can, for the boy's sake."
He said it all in his harsh voice, and almost
roughly, but somehow he seemed so broken down
for the time that Mrs. Errol was touched to the
heart. She got up and moved an arm-chair a
little forward.
I wish you would sit down," she said in a soft,
pretty, sympathetic way. "You have been so
much troubled that you are very tired, and you
need all your strength."
It was just as new to him to be spoken to and
cared for in that gentle, simple way as it was to be
contradicted. He was reminded of "the boy" again,
and he actually did as she asked him. Perhaps
his disappointment and wretchedness were good
discipline for him; if he had not been wretched
he might have continued to hate her, but just
at present he found her a little soothing. Almost
anything would have seemed pleasant by contrast
with Lady Fauntleroy; and this one had so sweet
a face and voice, and a pretty dignity when she
spoke or moved. Very soon, by the quiet magic
of these influences, he began to feel less gloomy,
and then he talked still more.
"Whatever happens," he said, "the boy shall
be provided for. He shall be taken care of, now
and in the future."
Before he went away, he glanced around the
Do you like the house?" he demanded.
"Very much," she answered.
This is a cheerful room," he said. May I
come here again and talk this matter over?"
"As often as you wish, my lord," she replied.
And then he went out to his carriage and drove
away, Thomas and Henry almost stricken dumb
upon the box at the turn affairs had taken.


OF course, as soon as the story of Lord Faun-
tleroy and the difficulties of the Earl of Dorincourt
were discussed in the English newspapers, they were

discussed in the American newspapers. The story
was too interesting to be passed over lightly, and it
was talked of a great deal. There were so many
versions of it that it would have been an edifying
thing to buy all the papers and compare them.
Mr. Hobbs read so much about it that he became
quite bewildered. One paper described his young
friend Cedric as an infant in arms,- another as a
young man at Oxford, winning all the honors, and
distinguishing himself by writing Greek poems;
one said he was engaged to a young lady of great
beauty, who was the daughter of a duke; another
said he had just been married; the only thing, in
fact, which was not said was that he was a little
boy between seven and eight, with handsome legs
and curly hair. One said he was no relation to
the Earl of Dorincourt at all, but was a small
impostor who had sold newspapers and slept in the
streets of New York before his mother imposed
upon the family lawyer, who came to America to
look for the Earl's heir. Then came the descrip-
tions of the new Lord Fauntleroy and his mother.
Sometimes she was a gypsy, sometimes an actress,
sometimes a beautiful Spaniard ; but it was always
agreed that the Earl of Dorincourt was her deadly
enemy, and would not acknowledge her son as his
heir if he could help it, and as there seemed to be
some slight flaw in the papers she had produced,
it was expected that there would be a long trial,
which would be far more interesting than anything
ever carried into court before. Mr. Hobbs used
to read the papers until his head was in a whirl,
and in the evening he and Dick would talk it all
over. They found out what an important person-
age an Earl of Dorincourt was, and what a mag-
nificent income he possessed, and how many
estates he owned, and how stately and beautiful
was the Castle in which he lived; and the more
they learned, the more excited they became.
Seems like something' orter be done," said Mr.
Hobbs. "Things like them orter be held on to-
earls or no earls."
But there really was nothing they could do but
each write a letter to Cedric, containing assurances
of their friendship and sympathy. They wrote
those letters as soon as they could after receiving
the news; and after having written them, they
handed them over to each other to be read.
This is what Mr. Hobbs read in Dick's letter:

"DDERE FREND: i got ure letter an Mr. Hobbs got his an we are
sory u are down on ure luck an we say hold on as longs u kin an
don't let no one git ahed of u. There is a lot of ole thieves wil make
al they kin of u ef u don't kepe ure i skined. But this is mosly to
say that ive not forgot wot u did fur me an if there aint no better
way cum over here an go in pardners with me. Biznes is fine an ile
see no harm cums to u Enny big feler that trise to cum it over
u wil after settle it fust with Perfessor Dick Tipton So no more at
present "DICK."





And this was what
DEAR SIR: Yrs received an
its a put up job and them that's d
And what I write to say is two
up Keep quiet and III see a 1
worst happens and them earls
ship in the grocery business re
and a home and a friend in

"Well," said Mr. H
between us, if he aint
So he is," said Die
Blest if I did n't like th
The very next morni
was rather surprised.
beginning practice.
lawyer can possibly b
young fellow, with sha
He had a shabby offi
every morning Dick 1
and quite often they w
but he always had a friei
That particular mor:
on the rest, he had
hand-an enterprising
of conspicuous people
finished looking it ove
was polished, he hande
Here 's a paper for
can look it over when yo
your breakfast. Picture
and an English earl's da
woman, too-lots of ha
raising rather a row. Y
with the nobility and g
Right Honorable the E
Fauntleroy. Hello! I
The pictures he spoke
and Dick was staring a
and mouth open, and
with excitement.
What 's to pay, D
"What has paralyzed
Dick really did look
had happened. He p
which was written:
"Mother of Claiman
It was the picture ol
large eyes and heavy 1
around her head.
Her said Dick
ter 'n I know you "
The young man began
"Where did you n
"At Newport? Or wh
last time ?"
Dick actually forgot

Dick read in Mr. Hobbs's gather his brushes and things together, as if he
had something to do which would put an end to
d wd say things looks bad. I believe his business for the present.
lone it ought to be looked after sharp. Never mind," he said. I know her! An I've
things. Im going to look this thing struck work for this morning. "
lawyer and do all I can And if the
is too many for us there a partner- And i less than five minutes from that time
ady for you when yure old enough he was tearing through the streets on his way to
"Yrs truly, SILAS HOBBS." Mr. Hobbs and the corner store. Mr. Hobbs could
scarcely believe the evidence of his senses when
[obbs, he 's pervided for he looked across the counter and saw Dick rush
a earl." in with the paper in his hand. The boy was out
k. I 'd ha' stood by him. of breath with running; so much out of breath,
at little feller fust-rate." in fact, that he could scarcely speak as he threw
ng, one of Dick's customers the paper down on the counter.
He was a young lawyer just "Hello exclaimed Mr. Hobbs. Hello !
ks poor as a very young What you got there ? "
e, but a bright, energetic "Look at it!" panted Dick. "Look at that
rp wit and a good temper, woman in the picture! That 's what you look
ce near Dick's stand, and at! She aint no 'ristocrat, she aint! with wither-
)lacked his boots for him, ing scorn. She's no lord's wife. You may
ere not exactly water-tight, eat me, if it aint Minna- Minna / I 'd know
ndly word or a joke for Dick. her anywhere, an' so 'd Ben. Jest ax him."
ning, when he put his foot Mr. Hobbs droppedinto his seat.
an illustrated paper in his I knowed it was a put-up job," he said. "I
paper, with pictures in it knowed it; and they done it on account o' him
and things. He had just bein' a 'Merican "
r, and when the last boot Done it! cried Dick, with disgust. She
d it over to the boy. done it, that 's who done it. She was allers up to
you, Dick," he said; "you her tricks; an' I '11 tell yer wot come to me, the
u drop in at Delmonico's for minnit I saw her picture. There was one o' them
*e of an English castle in it, papers we saw had a letter in it that said something'
lughter-in-law. Fine young 'bout her boy, an' it said he had a scar on his chin.
ir-though she seems to be Put them two together-her 'n' that there scar!
ou ought to become familiar Why, that there boy o' hers aint no more a lord
entry, Dick. Begin on the than I am It's Ben's boy,-the little chap she
arl of Dorincourt and Lady hit when she let fly that plate at me."
say, what's the matter?" Professor Dick Tipton had always been a sharp
:e of were on the front page, boy, and earning his living in the streets of a big
t one of them with his eyes city had made him still sharper. He had learned
his sharp face almost pale to keep his eyes open and his wits about him,
and it must be confessed he enjoyed immensely
ick?" said the young man. the excitement and impatience of that moment.
ou ?" If little Lord Fauntleroy could only have looked
as if something tremendous into the store that morning, he would certainly
pointed to the picture, under have been interested, even if all the discussion and
plans had been intended to decide the fate of some
t (Lady Fauntleroy)." other boy than himself.
f a handsome woman, with Mr. Hobbs was almost overwhelmed by his
braids of black hair wound sense of responsibility, and Dick was all alive and
full of energy. He began to write a letter to Ben,
My, I know her bet- and he cut out the picture and inclosed it to him,
and Mr. Hobbs wrote a letter to Cedric and one
an to laugh, to the Earl. They were in the midst of this letter-
neet her, Dick?" he said. writing when a new idea came to Dick.
en you ran over to Paris the Say," he said, "the feller that give me the
paper, he 's a lawyer. Let 's ax him what we'd
t to grin. He began to better do. Lawyers knows it all."



Mr. Hobbs was immensely impressed by this
suggestion and Dick's business capacity.
That's so he replied. "This here calls for
lawyers. "
And leaving the store in the care of a substitute,
he struggled into his coat and marched down-town
with Dick, and the two presented themselves with
their romantic story in Mr. Harrison's office, much
to that young man's astonishment.
If he had not been a very young lawyer, with a
very enterprising mind and a great deal of spare
time on his hands, he might not have been so
readily interested in what they had to say, for it
all certainly sounded very wild and queer; but he
chanced to want something to do very much, and
he chanced to know Dick, and Dick chanced to
say his say in a very sharp, telling sort of way.
And," said Mr. Hobbs, say what your time
's worth a' hour and look into this thing thorough,
and I 'll pay the damage,- Silas Hobbs, corner of
Blank street, Vegetables and Fancy Groceries."

Well," said Mr. Harrison, it will be a big
thing if it turns out all right, and it will be almost
as big a thing for me as for Lord Fauntleroy; and
at any rate, no harm can be done by investigating.
It appears there has been some dubiousness about
the child. The woman contradicted herself in
some of her statements about his age, and aroused
suspicion. The first persons to be written to are
Dick's brother and the Earl of Dorincourt's family
And actually, before the sun went down, two
letters had been written and sent in two different
directions-one speeding out of New York harbor
on a mail steamer on its way to England, and the
other on a train carrying letters and passengers
bound for California. And the first was addressed
to T. Havisham, Esq., and the second to Benjamin
And after the store was closed that evening,
Mr. Hobbs and Dick sat in the back-room and
talked together until midnight.

(To be concluded.)

i- -
S ,i.0
^ -,1 M^ -.--** '**t



" BICYCLES !-Bicycles! "
Nay; to shun laughter,
Try cycles first,
And buy cycles after;
For surely the buyer
Deserves but the worst,
Who would buy cycles, failing
To try cycles first !



' '




-^-_----- :-<--."-- g L -~ ... 7..-7

- : -- -- -- r. -- ."


LAKE GEORGE can be the calmest and loveliest
sheet of water that ever was shut in by mountain
walls, but like all mountain lakes it is very fickle.
If you have never seen it cut up its didos," you
do not yet really know our Lake. In the fall,
when the tourists have gone and the hotels and
cottages are quiet, Lake George now and then
gets into a great rage and becomes quite sublime.
One day in the latter part of October, there
came into our bay a trim little sloop-rigged sail-
boat, with three men aboard. They were after the
ducks that always make Dunham's Bay a resting-
place on their long autumn journey to the south-

ward. This little yacht, if I may call it one, had
not been long in view when there broke upon the
lake a fierce, cold, north wind, driving the whitecaps
up into the bay like a frightened flock of sheep.
The sailboat could now stand only the mainsail,
and even with that it reeled and tumbled about
fearfully in the hands of its unskilled crew, and
two or three times it was nearly driven ashore, for
the men seemed quite unable to make it beat up
into the wind.
While the gale was thus running into the bay,
my young friend Charlie Fraser, with a boy's love
for excitement, came and asked permission to go



- vy

.-<.- --- :-- _

out in my rowboat, to see "what kind of a rough-
water boat she might be." Though I knew him
to be both a good oarsman and a good swimmer,
and though the boat had always behaved admi-
rably in a sea, I hesitated, until he proposed not
to venture beyond Joshua's Rock, which marks
the line between the bay and the "broad lake,"
as the people call it at this point. After I had let
him go, I reproached myself for trusting a boy of
sixteen in a gale that was momently increasing in
violence. But Charlie did not care to risk too
near an approach to the broad lake; he soon

.-*-i. .- ."-- -:--, "saw that there
was danger of
swamping even
in the bay, and
S" thereforeheput
;'":" :.. .'-. : .'! aboutforhome.
S-'.;.' In passing the
;", :. .-; sailboat, which
-' -: *', was laboring
S --"hardamongthe
.... H...' /- rushing, roar-
ing whitecaps,
he had shouted
to the young
men to take in
areef; butthey
i. kept the whole
mainsail flying,
.w though the)
had to place all
the ballast up to
windward and
then to sit in a
Srow upon the
windward gun-
wale of the
boat to keep it
from upsetting.
Finding that
the gale, which
continued to
rise, would cer-
tainly upset
S them in spite
of all their ex-
ertions, one of
them eased off
the sheet, while
rs re the man at the
tiller at the
same moment
.' brought the
boat'sthead into
the wind. This
left all the
weight of the ballast and the men on one side,
with no balancing force of wind in the sail, and
the light sloop tipped completely over in the
direction opposite to the one they had feared.
The sail lay flat upon the water, with one poor
fellow under it, while another, encumbered with
a big overcoat, was floundering in the waves;
the third succeeded in climbing to the upper
side of the capsized sloop and sitting astride of
it. The wild, frightened cries of the young men
rose above the hissing of wind and the roaring of
waves, and Charlie brought his boat around and





rowed for them. The waves jerked one of his oars
from the rowlock, but he soon had it in its place,
and was pulling as a strong boy can pull when
cries of drowning men are in his ears.
"Help quick I'm going Oh, help help! "
rang in his ears and spurred him to do his utmost,
as he headed straight for the sailboat, disregarding
the waves that broke now and then into his own
When Charlie got up to the wreck, he presented
the bow of his boat first to the man who had
emerged from under the sail. This young man took
hold, then lost his grip and went down as the
water tossed the boat; and Charlie held on to the
seat to keep from being pitched after him. Then
the man came up, gurgling, sputtering, and getting
a new hold on the boat succeeded in scrambling in.
Holding the boat into the teeth of the wind, Charlie
then brought the
bow to the other
man' in the
water, and
so took him
aboard. There
were now three
people and a
great deal of
water in the
boat; and
Charlie con-
cluded that it
had all it would carry,
and that it would be
necessary to land his two
passengers before taking an
the stout young man who main- impress
trained an uneasy perch on the and it
capsized yacht. Shouting some
words of encouragement
to him, Charlie started
for the shore; but the
young man on the
boat, benumbed
by his ducking
and the icy wind,
and perhaps dis-
couraged at see-
ing the row-boat
leave him, fell off
the capsized yacht in-
to the water with a cry
for help. Charlie put back

just in time to grab him as he again let go his hold,
and began to sink. But the rowboat had all it would
bear in such a sea, and before taking him aboard,
it was necessary to make the others throw over-
board their wet coats and overcoats. Then the
stout young man was pulled in over the stern, and
Charlie soon brought the rowboat, staggering un-
der its load of four persons and a great weight of
water, safely to dock. A little while after, the three
dripping duck-hunters were drying by the kitchen
I was under the sail," said one of them to me,
"and if the boat had n't come to our help just
when it did, it would have been the end of me."
A New York gentleman who heard of this affair
wrote to the office of the United States Life Saving
Service, at Washington, asking for the silver
medal of the Government for Charlie Fraser. Of
course there was a great deal of formality to be
gone through with; affidavits were made by eye-
witnesses, and filed away at Washington, and
there the matter rested for months. Mean-
time Charlie had no recognition of his act
except a letter from the mother of one of
the young men, though he had, I suppose,
what was better -the consciousness of hav-
ing done his duty manfully in a pinch.
One administration at Washington went
out, and another came in, and we con-
cluded that the medal had been forgot-
ten. But one day there came to Charlie a
very large official envelope, in the corner of
which there was boldly printed Treasury Depart-
ment." It was also marked "Official Business,"
d was addressed in big letters and looked very
ive. The inside of it seemed equally important,
SR: I have the pleasure to transmit herewith a
silver life-saving medal which has been awarded you
under authority of section 7 of the Act of
June 20, 1874, section 12 of the Act of June
18, r878, and section 9 of the Act of May
4, 1882, in recognition of your courage
and humanity in saving three persons
from drowning October 25. 1884.
I have the honor to be, very

And the same day
qA there reached
d"- him by express
w5 S the silver medal
\ ^ RRIh ^ Ia in a neat case.






ONE evening my quiet hermitage seemed more
silent than ever before. That small dog, Gip,
slept soundly on the earthen floor, tired out with a
long day's run through the park. I had just
chased away a friendly striped snake that had
squirmed in through a mouse-hole and settled
itself comfortably, wishing to make its home with
me. The field-mice trooped silently about the
room in dozens, over the table and under the
chairs,- but there is no defense against them.
The other night they had the impudence to sit on
my pillow and pull out my hair for their nests.
"Their tameness is shocking to me," as Alexan-

der Selkirk, the original Robinson Crusoe, com-
plained of the beasts on his island.
Plotting against the mice, without lighting a
lamp I sat by the doorway as the darkness deep-
ened, for the night was too warm and too fine for
lamp-light. The long midsummer twilight faded to
a narrow band of gray just over the mountain-peak;
and looking out, I could hear none of the familiar
sounds of the wilderness -even the murmuring
pine-woods were hushed in the perfectly calm
night. But presentlya soft splashing sound came
from the pool in the brook behind the house. It
reminded me that for nearly a year I had been




living within fifty steps of a colony of beavers, and
had not yet seen a single one of them; for they
are never out by daylight and I am never out
by night.
The brook which runs through the park dwindles
to a very small stream after the summer heat has
melted all the snow from the peak; and there
would be too little water for the beavers to swim
in if they had not built a number of solid dams
across the stream, making as many pretty ponds,
where they and the muskrats and the wild ducks
lead a jolly life together. There is a chain of five
of these beaver-ponds, which begins quite near the
house. Often in the early morning, we see places
where they have been at work all night, mending
their dams, cutting down willow bushes, and even
felling trees of some size with a smooth cut that a
skillful woodman might be proud of; but all day
long there is never a sound of work in the silent
village. So, hearing something plunging into the
pond in the late twilight, I stole to the bank and
looked through an opening in the willow thicket.
There by the dim light I saw their round, dark
bodies swimming around and around and up and
down the pond as silently as fishes, with only a
gentle splash now and then as they dipped be-
neath the surface. It must have been a holiday
evening with them, for they were taking a rest
from their hard work, and it seemed in the dark-
ness as if they were only playing together in the
But I had only a little time to watch them, for
some slight noise or the scent of the enemy soon
spread an alarm, and in a moment every beaver
had disappeared from the pond.
Some years ago, we used to read that all the bea-
vers would soon be killed; for beaver fur had long
been fashionable, and the price of every skin was
very high. It is strange that the life and happiness
of millions of little animals in the backwoods of
America and Siberia should depend on the whims
of the grand ladies of Paris and London; but so it
is. When the beaver fur went out of favor, and
the slaughter of the Alaska seals began, the bea-
vers increased wonderfully in all the Western creeks
and rivers. But if the Princess of Wales should
happen to fancy a garment of beaver fur, woe to
the unhappy little beavers of the Rocky Mount-
ains Thousands of other grand ladies must fol-
low the fashion, and thousands of beavers must
furnish the fur.
In riding over the green turf of the open coun-
try, one sees everywhere white objects which so
reflect the strong sunshine that they almost daz-
zle the eye. These are the bleaching skulls of
the buffaloes that used to roam in thousands
through this region. Every one has read how,
VOL. XIII.-53.

only fifty years ago, millions of buffaloes wandered
over nearly half of the United States; now there
are no great herds except in the Territory of Mon-
tana, and from that territory more than a hundred
thousand skins have been sent to the East in a
year. For nearly every skin that is sent away,
about half a ton of fine meat is left to decay on
the prairie. It is a reckless waste of animal life,
and I am sorry to say that our government does
very little to stop it. Within ten years there will
be no more great herds of buffaloes in the United
States. Small bands of them will linger hidden
away in valleys, but by the time some boys who
read this have lived to be old men, the American
bison will probably be seen only where it is kept
as a curiosity; just as the one little band of
aurochs-the last descendants of the wild cattle
which used to roam over all Europe-is kept by
the Emperor of Russia. Still, even now, at times,
single buffaloes or small bands of them will wander
back here to their old grazing-grounds. Last
summer a party of hay-makers saw a band of a
dozen or more in a remote valley behind the peak.
And a few days later, one of our neighbors at the
nearest ranch, beyond the mountains, was sitting
in the doorway of his snug home one morning,
after an early breakfast, when to his astonishment,
a great buffalo bull came trotting easily along within
a hundred yards of the door. He would hardly have
been more surprised had an elephant or a rhinoc-
eros happened in for a morning call; for he had
never seen a buffalo, nor had he ever expected to
see one at his own ranch. But his surprise left him
breath enough to shout, A buffalo! a buffalo! "
The house was full of men just in from the work
of gathering beef-cattle for shipment; and at the
startling word, every man seized the nearest rifle
or pistol or shot-gun, and dashed away to join the
chase; only one or two stopping hastily to throw a
saddle on a horse. As soon as the chase began,
the big beast ran swiftly into the thicket along the
creek, and was able to keep out of sight for some
time. The chase was long and exciting, but the
buffalo's pursuers were too many for him. Some
followed up his trail, while others watched the
outskirts of the thicket; and'at last one of the
best marksmen among them, catching sight of the
big black body, took a quick line aim and brought
the buffalo down with a single bullet; so all the
inhabitants of the ranch were feasted with buffalo-
meat as long as it could be kept from spoiling.
But where the great herds range, there is no such
excitement about killing them.
One day a young fellow from the East was listen-
ing eagerly with me to the yarns of an old buffalo-
hunter, and as the hunter finished his story, the
young man said:


It must be tremendously exciting sport,
John "
Well, I '11 tell you how it is," said John. It's
about as exciting as if you were to go out into the
corral and shoot a dozen of those old'dairy-cows
with a pistol."
With a swift horse, trained to the business, and
a heavy revolver, a man who can aim truly may
often ride into a herd of buffaloes, overtaking them
one by one when they are running their hardest,
and, riding close beside them, can put his bullets
into the hearts of dozens of them in a single day's
hunt. That is the reason why the bison is the first

white-tailed cousin, and wears a quaker-colored
coat, which in summer is tinged with brown.
Sometimes, on horseback, I have met the deer in
the mountains without giving them any alarm,
and we have stood and gazed at one another at our
leisure, just to satisfy curiosity. But they know that
a man on foot or carrying a rifle is a dangerous
creature, and they never stop long to look at him.
Usually, even before the hunter catches sight of
them, they have seen him. They do not bound
away through the forest with a jump and a crash;
but, even if taken by surprise, they vanish away
between the yellow trunks of the pines as silently


of all the wild animals to disappear at the approach
of civilized man-it can not possibly escape from
a swift horseman.
The most abundant game animals among the
mountains are the deer. The white-tailed deer
is small and much like the antelope in color, but
has a far more sleek and handsome coat. The
black-tailed or mule deer is twice as large as its

as the shadow of the low swooping vulture slides
across the grass. They dart so noiselessly through
the dark woods that in the distance they seem
more like a troop of flying spirits than a herd of
In those parts of the mountains which are so
rocky and rough that few animals can approach
them, and on the high barrens where the snow




lies late in summer, the beautiful big-horn sheep
live undisturbed. It is only when they come down
to the streams for water, that the hunter can have
a fair chance of shooting them. They are swift
and handsome animals. Their heads are crowned
with ribbed and curving horns larger than those the
broad-horned Texas cattle carry. Their coats are
not woolly, but are covered with glossy brown
hair, shading off in the lower parts to a white
as pure as the snow-drifts among which they
live. There are no animals, excepting the
Swiss chamois and other wild goats, that can
run and jump among jagged rocks as they
do; and it is useless for any man or beast
to try to chase them on the mountain-tops.
But a few weeks ago, before the boys went
out to work with the cattle, two of them
were searching for horses in a caion open-
ing westward from the valley, and Gip was
trotting along behind them, when a turn in
the trail suddenly showed them a flock of
wild sheep climbing a steep path up the
rocky side of the cation. Both men took quick
aim and fired, and the flock went bounding
on toward their home among the crags, with
one fine young buck lagging behind, his leg
broken by a bullet. Yet no man may hope
to overtake a wild sheep among the rocks,
even though the sheep has but three legs to
go on; so, after wounding their fine game,
it seemed as if they must lose him. But
just as they were making up their minds to
the disappointment, Gip took in the trouble
with one quick glance and ran to their aid.
He has never been taught to hunt, but he
is a very wise dog, and does very well with-
out training. He went scrambling up over
the rocks ten times faster than a man could go,
and soon headed off the wounded sheep. Now
Gip is small, and a wild sheep is very large, and
tall like a deer; and it seemed impossible that so
little a dog could stop it. But the sheep naturally
lowered its head to bring its horns to bear on the
dog; and Gip, seeing its head within reach, gave
a snap at its nose and hung on for dear life, though
he was almost lifted from the ground. Even a
mountain sheep can not be very nimble with a
broken leg, and a dog on the end of its nose;
so the boys soon climbed up after him, and when
near enough not to endanger the plucky little dog,
they ended the sheep's life with another shot. And
so, for many days, all the men at the cabin lived
on mutton finer even than the famous mutton that
is fattened on the English downs.
Not long ago, old Frank, the man who lives
alone at the ranch on the western side of the
mountains, had the good fortune to come upon

two little wild lambs in open ground, where he could
easily overtake them; for they were only a few
days old. Being a lone man and fond of pets, he
carried them home in his arms and fed them every
day with milk, until they became as tame as kit-
tens. When they grew to be large sheep, their
perfect tameness made them famous curiosities


even in the Far West; but they were much greater
curiosities when their owner took them to the
Eastern States,-for I doubt if a tame bighorn
sheep had ever before been seen in an American
city. The great price which the rare animals
brought well paid the man for all his trouble.
Any of the grazing and browsing animals which
live in the Far West may easily be tamed if they
are caught young. The antelope and deer are
not uncommon pets at the frontier ranches; the
mountain sheep and elk can be tamed as readily,
but it is more difficult to catch them.
Nearly all the men on the ranches of Wyoming
are engaged in the cattle business; and they are
so accustomed to throwing the lasso in catching
the free cattle and horses, that when they come on
the young wild animals, they have little trouble in
roping them. The cow-boys, when they are socia-
ble about the roaring hearth-fires in winter, have
many curious stories to tell about capturing every



kind of wild animal with their ropes. Sometimes
when a few of them are away together gathering
cattle, they will come on a bear, and, even if un-
armed, it is easy for the boys to throw one or two
ropes around the bear and hold it until some armed

Soon this queer, lonely way of living will come
to an end for me. Often every day shall I look
down the valley, hoping to see the white canvas
top of the prairie-schooner heave in sight on the
pass leading in from the open country. When all


man comes to finish the work. The only trouble is
in finding a horse brave enough to run near a bear
while his rider throws the rope. One man, very
skillful with the rope, has told me how he lassoed a
mountain lion. Those great cats are so greedy that
when they find a carcass, they will eat until they
are stupid and slow in their movements, like a boa
constrictor when it is filled with food; so, when
this cow-boy found a large old lion just finishing
its dinner, he had no difficulty in throwing a noose
over its head and dragging it after his horse until
another man came up to end its life.

the cow-boys have finished gathering cattle and
come home to the peak, the old cabin will be
crowded and lively enough. Then the rest of the
summer will be filled with hard work in getting
together the fat beef-steers and driving them a
long journey to the Pacific Railroad, where they
will be loaded on trains and carried away to feed
the beef-eaters of America and England.
The curlew is still whistling under the plum-
bushes not far away, so that the dog sometimes
starts up to see who calls him; but now all the
fragrant plum-blossoms have fallen away and the




small green fruit hangs in clusters. Midsummer
has gone; with it came the scorching south-
east wind which turns the grass to hay and kills the
flowers like a November frost. And, since they are
dead, the wilderness is too lonely. While they
lived, they were society enough for a hermit; they
smiled a sweet good-morning at every sunrise, and

filled the evening twilight with fragrance which
carried my thoughts away to an old New England
home and to happy days spent long ago in gather-
ing forest flowers on the Connecticut hills. There
has been enough of hermit life for one year. It
has been pleasant; but the end of it will be pleas-
ant, too.

The dangerous dog in the drawing-room lay,
And snapped at the houseflies that came in his way
'I m a dangerous canine! he said
Beware how you trouble a creature of my- -
But his speech was cut short as he happened to Spy
A bumble-bee close to his head !



IT was hard for Washington at first to forget
that he was no longer Commander-in-Chief. He
had so long been accustomed to wake early, and



at once begin to think of the cares of the day, that
it was a novel sensation to discover that he had no
cares beyond looking after his estate. It chanced
that the winter of 1783-4 was a very severe one.
The roads were blocked with snow, the streams
were frozen, and Washington found himself almost
a prisoner at Mount Vernon. He was not even
able to go to Fredericksburg to see his mother,
until the middle of February. He was not sorry
for his enforced quiet. It left him leisure to look
over his papers and enjoy the company of his wife
and his wife's grandchildren, whom he had adopted
as his own children. His public papers had been
put into the hands of Col. Richard Varick, in
1781, and they were now returned to him, arranged
and classified and copied into volumes, in a man-
ner to delight the methodical soul of their author.

As the spring came on, and the snow and ice
melted, the roads were again open, and Mount
Vernon was soon busy with its old hospitality.
Washington foresaw that he would have plenty
of visitors, but he did not mean to let his life be
at the mercy of everybody, and he meant to keep
up his regular habits and his plain living. My
manner of living is plain," he wrote to a friend,
" and I do not mean to be put out of it. A glass
of wine and a bit of mutton are always ready, and
such as will be content to partake of them are
always welcome. Those who expect more will be
The house at Mount Vernon before this time
had been very much like that in which Washington
was born; now he found it necessary to enlarge
it, and accordingly added an extension at each
end, making it substantially as it now appears.
He was his own architect, and he drew every plan
and specification for the workmen with his own
hand. He amused himself also with laying out
the grounds about his house, and planting trees,-
a great pleasure to him. Every morning he arose
early, and despatched his correspondence before
breakfast, which was at half-past seven. His horse


stood ready at the door, and as soon as breakfast
was over, he was in the saddle, visiting the various
parts of his estate. Sometimes he went hunting,
for he never lost his fondness for the chase. He



[An Historical Biograpy.]




dined at three o'clock, and usually spent the after-
noon in the library, sometimes working at his
papers till nine o'clock; but when not pressed by
business, and when his house was full of guests, he

l, .


spent the evening with them. If he was alone with
his family, he read aloud to them; and very often
on Sunday, when they could not go to church, he
sat down and read a sermon and prayers.
Guests crowded upon him, and he was especially
glad to see his old comrades. A visit from Lafay-
ette was the occasion of a very gay time, when
Mount Vernon was full of visitors, and the days
were given to sport.
Washington had constant applications from per-
sons who wished to write his life or paint his
portrait. There was a sculptor named Wright
who undertook to get a model of Washington's
face. "Wright came to Mount Vernon," so Wash-
ington tells the story, with the singular request
that I should permit him to take a model of my
face, in plaster of Paris, to which I consented with
some reluctance. He oiled my features, and plac-
ing me flat upon my back, upon a cot, proceeded
to daub my face with the plaster. Whilst I was
in this ludicrous attitude, Mrs. Washington entered
the room, and seeing my face thus overspread with
the plaster, involuntarily exclaimed. Her cry ex-
cited in me a disposition to smile, which gave my

mouth a slight twist, or compression of the lips,
that is now observable in the busts which Wright
afterward made." A more successful sculptor was
Houdon, who was commissioned by Virginia to
make a statue of Washington. He
-;' also took a plaster model, and the
fine statue which he made stands
in Richmond. A portrait painter,
named Pine, also paid a visit to
Mount Vernon about this time
with a letter from one of Washing-
ton's friends to whom Washington
wrote during Pine's visit:
"'In for a penny, in for a pound,' is an old
adage. I am so hackneyed to the touches of
the painter's pencil, that I am now altogether
at their beck, and sit, like 'patience on a mon-
ument,' whilst they are delineating the lines
of my face. It is a proof among many others
of what habit and custom can effect. At first
I was as impatient at the request, and as rest-
ive under the operation as a colt is of the sad-
die. The next time I submitted very reluc-
iJ tantly, but with less flouncing. Now no dray
moves more readily to the hill than I do to
Sthe painter's chair. It may easily be con-
Sceived, therefore, that I yielded a ready obe-
dience to your request, and to the views of
SMr. Pine."

Washington was a most consid-
erate and courteous host. He was
very fond of young people, but
his silent ways and the reputation
which he enjoyed as a great man
SVERNON. made it difficult for the young
always to be easy in his presence.
The story is told of his coming into a room once,
when dancing was going on, and the sport suddenly
ceased. Washington begged the young people to
go on, but they refused until he left the room.
Then, after they felt free again to dance, he came
back and peeped through the
j ~open door.
He was very apt to affect
older people in the same way.
He was a large man, with
._ large hands and feet, and
-rjVli.' eyes that looked steadily at
-'~ one. When not speaking,
t- c he was very apt to forget there
were other people in the
I-. room, and his lips would
<- move as he talked to himself
S 'while thinking hard upon
ONE OF A SET OF FIRE- some matter. But he did not
BUCKETS AT MOUNT neglect people. One of his
VERNON. visitors tells this story : "The
first evening I spent under the wing of his hospital-
ity, we sat a full hour at table, by ourselves, without
the least interruption, after the family had retired.



I was extremely oppressed with a severe cold and
excessive coughing, contracted from the exposure
of a harsh winter journey. He pressed me to use
some remedies, but I declined doing so. As usual,
after retiring, my coughing increased. When some
time had elapsed, the door of my room was gently
opened and, on drawing my bed-curtains, to my
utter astonishment I beheld Washington himself
standing at my bed-side, with a bowl of hot tea in

,V ..-. / !

1 7

I tt-; il~ -*S^^-' '


his hand. I was mortified and distressed beyond
Although Washington had now retired to Mount
Vernon, and seemed perfectly willing to spend the
rest of his days as a country gentleman, it was
impossible for him to do so. The leaders of the
country needed him, and he was himself too
deeply interested in affairs to shut his eyes and
ears. He was especially interested in the Western
country, which then meant the Ohio Valley and
the region bordered by the Great Lakes. In the
autumn of 1784, he made a tour beyond the Alle-
ghanies, for the purpose of looking after the lands

which he owned there; but he looked about him
not only as a land-owner, but as a wise, far-seeing
It was a wild journey to take in those days.
Washington traveled nearly seven hundred miles
on horseback, and had to carry camping conve-
niences and many of his supplies on pack-horses.
He had especially in mind to see if there might
be a way of connecting by a canal the water sys-
tem of Virginia with the Western rivers. After
he came back, he wrote a long letter to the Gov-
ernor of Virginia, in which he gave the result of
his observation and reflection. He was not merely
considering how a profitable enterprise could be
undertaken, but he was thinking how necessary it
was to bind the Western country to the Eastern in
order to strengthen the Union. Many people had
crossed the mountains and were scattered in the
Mississippi Valley. They found the Mississippi
River a stream easy to sail down, but the Span-
lards held the mouth of the river, and if the
latter chose to make friends with those Western
settlers, they might easily estrange them from the
Eastern States. Besides this, Great Britain was
reaching down toward this last territory from
Canada. In every way, it seemed to him of im-
portance that good roads and good water com-
munication should bind the East and the West
together. He thought Virginia was the State tc
do this. It extended then far to the westward;
and it had great rivers flowing to the sea. It was
the most important State in the country, and it
was very natural that Washington should look
to it to carry out his grand ideas; for the separate
States had the power at that time-Congress wa;
unable to do anything. It is interesting to se,:
how Washington, who thought he could go back
to Mount Vernon and be a planter, was unable to
keep his mind from working upon a great plan
which intended the advantage of a vast number
of people. He was made to care for great things,
and he cared for them naturally.



WHILE Washington was busy planting trees at
Mount Vernon and making excursions to see his
Western lands, the country was like a vessel
which had no captain or pilot, drifting into dan-
ger. During the War for Independence, one of
the greatest difficulties which Washington had to
overcome was the unwillingness of the several
States to act together as one nation. They called
themselves the United States of America, but they
were very loosely united. Congress was the only




body that held them together, and Congress had
no power to make the States do what they did not
care to do. So long as they all were fighting for
independence, they managed to hold together; but
as soon as the war was over and the States were
recognized as independent, it was very hard to
get them to do anything as one nation. Every
State was looking out for itself, and afraid that
the others might gain some advantage over it.
This could not go on forever. They must be
either wholly independent of one another or more
closely united. The difficulty was more apparent
where two States were neighbors. Virginia and
Massachusetts might manage to live apart, though
in that case troubles would be sure to arise, but
how could Virginia and Maryland maintain their
individual independence ? The Chesapeake and
Potomac seemed to belong to one as much as
to the other; and when foreign vessels came up
the stream, was each State to have its own rules
and regulations? No. They must treat strangers
at any rate in some way that would not make each
the enemy of the other.
These two States felt this so strongly that they
appointed a commission to consider what could
be done. Washington was a member of the com-
mission, and asked all the gentlemen to his house.
They not only discussed the special subject com-
mitted to them, but they looked at the whole
matter of the regulation of commerce in a broad
way, and agreed to propose to the two States to
appoint other commissioners, who should advise
with Congress and ask all the States of the Union
to send delegates to a meeting where they could
arrange some system by which all the States should
act alike in their treatment of foreign nations and
of each other.
That was exactly what Congress ought to have
been able to do, but could not, because nobody
paid any attention to it. Nor did this meeting,
which was called at Annapolis in September, 1786,
accomplish very much. Only five States sent del-
egates, and these delegates were so carefully in-
structed not to do much, that is was impossible for
the convention to settle affairs. Still, it was a
step forward. It was very clear to the delegates
that a general convention of all the States was
necessary, and so they advised another meeting
at which all the thirteen States should be repre-
sented, and the whole subject of the better union
of the States should be considered.
This meeting, which was the great Constitu-
tional Convention of 1787, was held in Philadel-
phia, and to it Virginia sent George Washington
as one of her delegates. He was heart and soul
in favor of the movement. It was what he had
been urging on all his correspondents for a long

time. He was at first reluctant to go back in-
to public life after having so completely retired;
but as soon as he saw that it was his duty to
accept the appointment, he set to work to qualify
himself for taking part in the deliberations of the
convention. Probably no one in America under-
stood better than he the character of Americans
and the special dangers through which the coun-
try was passing; but several, no doubt, were better
informed about the practical working of govern-
ment and about the history of other confederations.
He had never been very much of a reader of
books, but he had been a member for many years
of the Virginia House of Burgesses, and so knew
how government was carried on on a small scale,
and now he began to read diligently and to com-
pare accounts of ancient and modern political
unions. He made abstracts of them, and, in fact,
went to work as if he were at school, so in earnest
was he to learn this important lesson.
On May 9, 1787, Washington set out from
Mount Vernon in his carriage for Philadelphia.
He was a famous man and could not go to the
convention without attracting attention. So, when
he reached Chester, in Pennsylvania, he was
met by General Mifflin, who was then Speaker
of the Assembly of Pennsylvania, and by various
public men, who escorted him on the way. At
the ferry across the Schuylkill, where Gray's Ferry
Bridge now is, he was met by a company of light
horse, and so entered the city. One of his first
errands was to call on Benjamin Franklin, who
was President of Pennsylvania, as the governor
was then called. No doubt they talked long and
earnestly about the work before them, for they
were the two most eminent men in the convention.
Washington was made the presiding officer of
the convention. For four months it met from day
to day, engaged in the great work of forming the
Constitution under which we are now governed.
There were many long and earnest debates; and
the members felt the importance of the work upon
which they were engaged. At last, the Constitution
was formed. It was not satisfactory to everybody,
but the members all agreed to sign it and recom-
mend it to the country for adoption. George Wash-
ington, as president of the convention, was the
first to set his name down ; and there is a tradition
that as he took the pen in his hand he arose from
his seat, considered a moment, and then said:
Should the States reject this excellent Consti-
tution, the probability is that an opportunity will
never again be offered to cancel another in peace;
the next will be drawn in blood."
Washington, as president of the convention,
was directed to draw up a letter, stating what the
convention had done, and send it with the Con-



stitution to Congress. This he did. He was not
entirely satisfied with the Constitution, as he
wrote to Patrick Henry: "I wish the Constitution
which is offered had been more perfect; but I sin-
cerely believe it is the best that could be
obtained at this time. And, as a consti-
-'- tutional door is opened for amendments
hereafter, the adoption of it, under the
present circumstances of the Union, is, in
my opinion, desirable."
He said at first that he should not say
anything for or against the Constitution.
If it were good, it would work its way; if
bad, it would recoil on those who drew it
up. Perhaps he thought it was not be-
coming in those who discussed its parts
and finally signed it, to do anything more
than send it out and leave the people to
do what they would with it. But he could
not keep silent long. Everybody was de-
bating it; the principal members of the
convention were defending it; there was
danger that it would not be adopted, and
soon Washington, in his letters, was using
arguments in support of it. There is no
doubt that his name at the head of the
paper did a great deal toward inducing
people to accept it. It was more than a
year before enough States had adopted
the Constitution to make it the law of the
land, but as time went on, and it was
more certain that the new government
would go into operation, the ques-
tion arose as to who should be the
/ first President of the United States.
/ It can hardly be called a question;
at any rate, it was answered at
once by all. Every one named
SWashington, and his friends began
to write to him as if there could be
no doubt on this point. The most
distinguished advocate of the new
Constitution, Alexander Hamilton,
who had been one of Washington's
aids in the war, wrote to him:
S "I take it for granted, sir, you
S have concluded to comply with
what will, no doubt, be the general
call of your country in relation to
CRAB-TREE STAFF the new government. You will
BRENTADKLNY permit me to say that it is indis-
TO GEN. WASH- pensable you should lend yourself
THE STATE DE- to its first operations. It is to lit-
PARTTNWAT LS tle purpose to have introduced a
INGTON. system, if the weightiest influence

is not given to its firm establishment in the
Washington was by no means elated at the
prospect. On the contrary, he was extremely re-


-_. -


luctant to be President. He was not old; he was
fifty-seven years of age when the election took
place, but his hard life as a soldier had broken
his constitution, and the cares and anxieties he
had undergone had made him feel old. : At my
time of life," he wrote to Lafayette, "and under
my circumstances, the increasing infirmities of
nature and the growing love of retirement do not
permit me to entertain a wish beyond that of living
and dying an honest man on my own farm. Let
those follow the pursuits of ambition and fame who
have a keener relish for them, or who may have
more years in store for the enjoyment." He was
perfectly sincere in saying this. He knew that
some people would not believe him, and would
assert that he was only saying all this to get the
credit of humility; but his best friends believed
him, and to one of these he wrote: "If I should
receive the appointment, and if I should be pre-
vailed upon to accept it, the acceptance would be
attended with more diffidence and reluctance than
ever I experienced before in my life. It would
be, however, with a fixed and sole determination
of lending whatever assistance might be in my
power to promote the public weal, in hopes that,
at a convenient and early period, my services
might be dispensed with, and that I might be
permitted once more to retire, to pass an un-
clouded evening, after the stormy day of life, in
the bosom of domestic tranquillity."
There never was any doubt about the people's
choice. Every vote was cast for Washington.

(To be continued.)






DEAR TODDLEKINS," said little Trot,
*- May I talk to you a while ?"
Why, yeth, of courthe," said Toddlekins,
With a bashful little smile.

.. Now, Toddlekins," said little Trot,
Sr" If we should meet a bear"
Good graciouth me said Toddlekins,
,,T YYou give me thuch a thcare "

If we should meet a bear," said Trot,
Would you let me save your life?"
Oh merthy Yeth said Toddlekins,
But I will not be your wife "





BY W. L.

DARK, solemn-looking
place it was, and al-
though Fred and I
were as dauntless ex-
plorers as Stanley or
Greely, our courage
began to ooze away as we
looked in at the gloomy
flume from which issued the
cold and sluggish water.
We had come upon the
ruined archway of an old
mill, still standing with
crumbling walls above the
slow-moving waters of its
former busy tail-race. The
low, dark archway was over-
hung with birch, witch-
hazel, and thimbleberry;
and as we peered into its
blackness, suggestions of
dragons and serpents, cas-
tle-dungeons and witches'
caverns and monsters' dens
came into our minds already
sufficiently full of wild,
boyish fancies and strange imaginings.
Fred double dared me to go in, and I was
foolish enough to think that no boy of spirit could
refuse a double dare." So, cutting weapons from
the sapling birches, we stepped into the cold and
repulsive-looking water. B-r-r-r!-what a shiver
it gave us !
It was late in the afternoon. The shadows that
lay in the deep ravines along the mountain-side
looked strange and weird; and as we stepped

within the gloom of the archway, a blue heron,
gaunt and ungainly, with its twisted neck and long,
dangling legs, flew down the creek, uttering its.
harsh and dismal cry.
Neither Fred nor I was feeling remarkably
lion-hearted;' the call of the heron had brought
our hearts almost into our mouths; and just then,
as we stood hesitating and peering in, something
moved in the darkness beyond us, and a black
object that seemed, as Fred said, as big as an


eagle flung itself out of the shadows full into our
startled faces.
Panic-stricken, we turned to fly. The bottom of
the pool was slippery, the roof of the archway was
low; Fred's feet flew up, my head received a sud-




den bump, and both of us went down in six inches
of water.
With a shriek of terror from each valiant ex-
plorer thus stricken down by the magic spells of
the goblin of the den, we scrambled to our feet,


There once Was a crafty young rab I
\'hVo always went round in a cab
He wished no one to say
That he walked d the wrong way,
But his coach man the secret did "blab

dripping and disheartened, and made for the light;
and as we did so we caught a glimpse of our as-
sailant skimming away in the twilight-neither
goblin, witch, nor monster, but only a harmless
and equally frightened black bat.







,- ,MONG boys and the banks of the Nile in the time of the Pharoahs;
S girls there is a con- and in spite of its simplicity it is still a standard
stant demand for amusement around the Levant.
new games, and Perhaps some of the boys and girls on this side
S --. many are in- of the water would like to try it ; but I shall warn
'-- \ vented every them that, although it seems easy enough, it will
--year, which require considerable practice to become at all pro-
are in fashion ficient in it.
/ for a few The two players are placed opposite each
,-/ months and other, and simultaneously each throws out the
2/ then disappear right hand with some of the fingers extended,
altogether. while the rest are doubled over the palm, at the
But almost every suc- same instant shouting out the sum of the fingers
cessful game is an adaptation of some old amuse- which he guesses are extended on his adversary's
ment that was enjoyed centuries ago. Tennis, hand and his own. Of course, knowing ho,,
base-ball, marbles, and many other common sports many he has put up himself, the only point is to
have been played for ages, in one form or another, guess the number of his adversary and instantly
while most games of cards can be traced back to add it to his own, a process which requires some
the sixteenth century. practice and experience, as an experiment will
Many games which seem very simple and soon show, beginners often making amusing mis-
hardly worthy of the name require, in reality, takes; as, for instance, saying "ten when they
considerable skill and dexterity. This is especially themselves have only one or two fingers up, oc
true of the game of Morra, which is played enthu- "four! when the whole hand is extended.
siastically in Italy by persons of all ages. If both guess correctly, or incorrectly, neither
Almost any day, in walking along a Roman makes anything, but if one happens to hit the
street, a little group may be discovered gathered right number when his adversary misses, he scores
about a pair of Morra-players. From the noise one, by extending one finger on the left hand,
and excitement, a foreigner would conclude that a which is held up constantly, that no unfair court.
quarrel of some sort was going on; but if he may be recorded. The game is usually five, but
pause and join the company, he will see that sometimes "double morra" is played, the score
the chief actors are all interested in the progress being ten. In this case, at the end of the first
of the game, and that the loud screams which the five, the hands are brought together with a slap,
players give at brief intervals are nothing more to indicate that the second half is begun. This
dangerous than the simultaneous calling out of slap is also given at the completion of an ordinary
numbers. He will also see that their eyes are game.
fixed too earnestly on each other to notice the in- The great point is to play as rapidly as possible
creasing crowd of spectators, and that both have and exactly in unison, as otherwise an opportunity
their left hands constantly raised, and that at each is given for unfair advantage.
shout the right hands are thrown violently forward. A very old Latin proverb describes an honest
This is the old, old game of Morra which is re- man as, "Trustworthy enough to play Morra in
ferred to by Cicero, and other writers of his day. the dark "; and it is a very good description, for
On many ancient monuments are found carvings one who has no honor about trifles can never be
which represent Morra-players. It was played on trusted in graver matters.

'~ -L

._J ]-'..44 fl


[A Story of the Maine Coast.]




NCE more in the boat's stern with
his steering paddle, Perce Buck-
S..--.;',4:,-; lin gazed eagerly over the bobbing
l, heads of the twins, who were row-
.. ing, and reported his observa-
tions, as they approached the
1/ castaway on the back of the Old
It 's nobody I can make out," he said, when
near enough to recognize, as he believed, any per-
son he knew. But that is n't a yachting-cap he
has on; it 's a handkerchief tied around his head.
The sun on the water dazzles me or I -- Boys,"
he suddenly exclaimed, it is n't a man! It's a
boy "
And he shouted, Hello, there "
The castaway returned the hail, and as the boat
came nearer, cried out:
That you, Perce Bucklin? "
Then Perce uttered an ejaculation of the great-
est astonishment:
Boys, it 's Oily Burdeen "
"No !" "Jingo!" "You don't say!" ex-
claimed the twins, who would n't believe him
until they turned their heads and saw for them-
Hullo, Oily! called Moke.
"How did you ever get there ? asked Poke.
"Pull, boys said Perce impatiently, as they
held their oars while looking around. He must
have been aboard the yacht,"-for as yet Oily
made no answer. He was in fact too much agi-
tated with joy and gratitude, after his long hours
of suffering in mind and body, to make any cohe-
rent explanations.
The dory came dancing over the waves.
Where 's the yacht? Perce demanded.
I don't know anything about any yacht," an-
swered the miserable, happy Oily, stepping down
to the water's edge to meet his deliverers.
"Has n't the Susette been lost?" Perce in-
As he was still some little distance away, and
the waves were dashing on the rocks, all Olly
understood was something about the Susette
being lost.

It gave him a shock, with which, however, came
a gleam of consolation. Mr. Hatville, then, had
not returned home.
I will do Oily the justice to say that he could
not under any circumstances have rejoiced at such
a disaster as the wreck of the yacht; yet it was
some comfort to think that the loss of the watch
had not yet been discovered.
I have n't heard of it Oily said in a shaky
Then how in the world did you get where you
are ?" inquired Perce, and as Olly was too much
overcome by his feelings to answer at once, he
continued: "We concluded you must have been
aboard of the Susette. Where 's the best place
to take you on ? "
Right here,"' said Oily. "But I 've a boat,
too, around on the other side. I 'd like to save
A boat! Moke exclaimed. Then why in
the name of common sense "
Why did n't you go ashore ? cried Poke.
"It leaks, and I have n't any oars nor any-
thing to bail with. It was all I could do to get
over here in it, without sinking. I was on the
" Calf's" back till the waves began to break over
it this morning."
Here a sob caught poor Olly's voice, at the rec-
ollection of all he had gone through.
"On the 'Calf' !" said Perce. How did it
happen? But never mind about that till we get
you out of your scrape."
The dory pulled around the Old Cow," while
Oily scrambled over the back, picking up on his
way the second thwart, which he had used to
paddle with, and afterward in making his signals
of distress.
On the seaward side was a cleft in the rock,
into which he had propelled his dory on the top
of a wave, and where, leaping to the ledges,
he had held it by the painter while the wave
went out. There it was still, jammed high up
in the chasm, where the buffets of the tide had
left it.
Oily alone could never have got it out without
waiting for the next tide to help him ; it was all his
companions could do to loosen and lift it from those
rocky jaws. This they did, after effecting a land-
ing on the little islet; while Oily, who acknowl-
edged himself half starved, ate some of the provis-


ions they had brought, and between mouthfuls
told his surprising story.
One very important particular, however, he
took care not to mention, so that no light was
thrown upon the mystery of the watch which had
found its resting-place in Perce Bucklin's pocket.
It would be hard to say whether this was a dis-
appointment or a relief to the finder. He had so
fully persuaded himself that there was some con-
nection between the watch picked up on the beach
and the human being cast on the rock, that he
could not easily give it up, even after discovering
who that human being was.
True, Oily was not a very probable owner of
such a timepiece. Yet that was not an impossible
thing; at any rate, he might know something about
it. Perce was anxious to solve the riddle, even if it
should be at his own cost; for he had no wish, as
I have said before, to keep what belonged to
"I did n't know you in that suit of clothes,
Oily," he said, as they were getting the boat out
of the crevice, "and with that handkerchief on
your head I never saw such a change in any-
body,- did you, boys ? "
He looks as pinched as if the lobsters had
been nipping him," said Moke.
And as blue about the gills as a turkey-gob-
bler," said Poke.
I lost my hat overboard last night," said Oily,
I tied on my handkerchief this morning after I
got tired of waving it. I thought you would be more
apt to see the board. Was n't I missed? Was
n't anybody looking for me ? "
"No," Perce replied. The young lady with
the nose the tall one said you went with the
She exclaimed Olly, who still had feelings
left that could be hurt by such evidence of Amy
Canfield's utter indifference to him. She knew
better than that."
"Mrs. Murcher knew better," said Perce.
"She thought you had gone home to show your
new suit to the folks. Did the boarder make you
any other present ? "
"Was n't that enough?" returned Olly, munch-
ing a cold boiled egg.
It will do for a beginning," said Perce. But
with such a suit as that, it seems as if you ought
to have a handsome watch-chain; need n't
mind about any watch," he added with a laugh,
intending thus to make a jest of his remark if Oily
did n't take it in earnest.
Poor Oily tried to smile with his pinched, em-
purpled face; at the same time casting down his
eyes in some alarm, to see what there was about
his dress to put such a notion into Perce's head.

"Oily does n't feel like joking," observed
Neither would you, I guess exclaimed Oily,
glad to change the subject. "All night on the
rocks except when I was paddling or swimming for
my life. No fire, not a mouthful to eat, not a
wink of sleep I got wet through a second time,
getting over here from the Calf,' in a sinking
boat. I can't tell you how it made me feel, boys,
to see your fire on the beach last night, and
again this morning! Why did n't you see me?
I tried the handkerchief, and then the board, but
I thought you never would look "
We were too far off," said Poke.
We were too busy minding our own business,"
said Moke.
"That reminds me, the seaweed is waiting for
us," said Poke. Hurry up, boys! "
Perce was the last to leave the island; and he
himself got wet up to his waist by a wave, in
preventing the boat from being dashed upon the
rocks after the others were aboard.
He did not care for a little salt water himself.
But he thought of the watch in the pocket of his
trousers. That, however, would probably not bh
much hurt by a few additional drops after what t
had been through already. As far as he was con-
cerned, the mystery had not been cleared up, at
all, as he had expected it would be, by the rescue
of the castaway.
If Oily had frankly told his entire story, ho.w
gladly would Perce have taken the treasure-trove
from his pocket and held it out to him, exclain'-
ing: Here is your watch, boy! gladdening hi3
eyes with the sight. But as it was, both were silert
on the subject which now filled both their minds,
Oily had already learned from his companions
that their only reasons for thinking the yacht had
been wrecked, was the fact of its not having
returned the night before, and the appearance,
that morning, of a human form on the outlying
rock,- excepting always the very private reason
in Perce Bucklin's trousers-pocket.
Mr. Hatville was then most likely still un-
drowned; and now that his own life was saved, Oily
began to study how he should shirk the responsi-
bility of his guilty borrowing,-in his troubled
thoughts looking every way except the right way,
and inventing plausible fictions, where nothing
would avail like the simple truth. He sat in
the stern of his companions' dory, leading his
own in tow by the painter; dejected and silent,
and more than once thinking he would watch
for a chance, when nobody was observing him,
to drop overboard the watch-seal and the
fragment of chain which he still carried in
his vest.






LONG before the rescuers and the rescued
reached the shore with their leaky boat in tow, the
excitement among Mrs. Murcher's boarders in re-
gard to the yacht had been allayed by a telegram.
The adverse wind of the evening before had caused

-* ,,,

I L, .. ', i

d ._ I .7.

the Susette to put into Portland; whence some of
the party were to return by rail that morning.
So said the message; in consequence of which,
interest in the unknown individual on the back of
the Old Cow" languished somewhat, until the
arrival of the little party on the beach. Then it
went up to the bubbling point again; and there
was the liveliest effervescence of curiosity to know
how Oily Burdeen, the faithful, unromantic chore
and errand boy, had met with so wonderful an
VOL. XIII.-54,


Accompanied, or preceded, by those who had
gone down to see him disembark, he mounted
with slow, miserable, anxious feet the piazza steps.
There all the other ladies came out eagerly to
meet him, and pressed around, marveling and
questioning; and Mrs. Murcher, flushed from her
molding-board, held up both her doughy hands.
"Why, Oily where have you been ? said one.
In his new suit of clothes said another.
"The first time he ever wore them "
exclaimed a third.
And one laughed; the one of all whom
Oily most dreaded to have see him
in that plight.
It lv- !.i an ill-natured laugh

I, ',l


"' i ^

by any means;
and she would
have helped it if
she could. But
',- Amy Canfield
had a merry dis-
'' -'.' position. And
S Oily after his
night of terror
S, and fatigue, still
-- oppressed with
a horrible anxi-

._t !..imbled, drooping, roll-
., I,. distressed eyes in fear
.-icountering Mr. Hat-
I1!':.with the handkerchief
.rii, ..n his head and his
r.,- clothes torn at the

iri..:.- ri~r ..; : owned that Oily did

"".'... : id Mrs. Merriman,

it -. t,.,. ,. !' -,p!ied the tall brunette;
"and I 'm so glad he is rescued," she added, dis-
creetly. "We all were so anxious, thinking the
Susette had gone on the rocks; and it was only our
Oily after all."
"What has happened to you, Oily?" cried
Mrs. Murcher, amazed to the end of her doughy
I just went out to take a little row, last even-
ing," murmured the forlorn Olly. "I lost one oar;
it got tangled in the kelp, and a wave wrenched it
out of my hand. Then I broke another, and the
wind blew me off shore."
"And you 've been all night on the Old
Cow'?" said the good landlady.
"Worse than that," said Oily. I was on the
'Calf.' And a part of the time in the water. I
guess if anybody had been there on the Calf's'
back in my place- alone-such a night! -wait-
ing for the tide to rise and cover 'em -I guess




they would n't have thought- it much of a joke "
And Oily's voice broke.
It must have been terrible, Oily Do forgive
my laughing said Amy, relenting. How did
you get to the Old Cow' ? "
Olly faltered forth more of his wretched story,
which was listened to with many an expression of
surprise and sympathy, for he was rather a favor-
ite with Mrs. Murcher and her lady boarders.
He had wished to go directly home to Frog-
End, and had tried to induce the boys to carry
him over in the ox-cart. But they were in haste
to resume their work, which had been too long
interrupted already; and they could not see why
he should object to returning to the boarding-
After all, he thought to himself, the dreaded
inquiry regarding the watch might as well be met
first as last.
The kindness he met with made him feel more
miserably remorseful and apprehensive than ever,
for he knew that it was lavished upon him because
his friends were still ignorant of what might at
any minute now come to their knowledge.
He was really worn out with the long, fearful
strain on his mind and strength, and he was quite
willing to accept Mrs. Murcher's advice that he
should go at once to bed and "take something
The nucleus of the boarding-house was, as we
have said, an old farm-house, which accounted
for its not very sightly situation, there in a hol-
low of the hills. Besides the spacious addition,
the original building remained, and at the end of
the upper corridor was the old attic, with two or
three steps descending to the door.
Olly's room was there, and there he was soon
in bed, with ample leisure to think over the terri-
ble part of his experience which was happily past,
and the part which was unhappily to come.
He had not ventured to ask about the yachting
party, lest something concerning the watch should
come out. But he had accidentally overheard
some one speak of the Susette having run into
Portland. Everything else was uncertain. But,
thankful for a reprieve however brief from the
impending catastrophe, he ate the steaming gruel
Mrs. Murcher brought him, sank into a state of
stupor, and was soon rehearsing in dreams his dire
He was having a distressing conversation with
a dog-fish of enormous size. The monster came
up out of the sea, and resting its elbow on the
"Calf's" shoulder, and its face on its hand,-a
face and attitude grotesquely suggestive of Mr.
Hatville,-accused Olly of having one of that
gentleman's eyes in his pocket, although there

were two spectral eyes as big as watches in the
speaker's head, at the moment. The dispute was
growing frightfully loud, when Oily cut it short by
kicking the dog-fish, or Mr. Hatville, or whoever
it was, back into the sea, and immediately woke.



IT is generally a very good way to get out of
trouble, to wake, and find it a dream. But that
did not serve Olly's turn this time. The voice
was still heard, louder and louder, not in the sea,
as he had fancied, but behind the door which
separated his garret from the corridor.
I paid two hundred and forty dollars for that
watch, and fifteen dollars for the chain, let alone
the seal, and I want to know who has them! "
It was Mr. Hatville's voice pure and simple,
without any fishy element about it. At the same
time a good pair of boots, such as no dog-fish ever
wore, were tramping excitedly across the floor.
Poor Mrs. Murcher's anxious, protesting voice wa:
heard in reply, but not loud enough for Oily t.
make out the words.
I hung it up when I was changing my clothes
and then went off and forgot it! burst forth th
male voice again. "But I supposed it would bi
safe here. I did n't know you had thieves in youa
house, Mrs. Murcher! "
I have n't, sir unless they are among you
own friends," the landlady answered, in a high:
key than before. "I don't believe it is stolen.
It must be somewhere "
"Of course it 's somewhere!" the boarder re-
torted-" somewhere in some rogue's keeping.
I 'd like to see the fellow who dared to lay hand,
on it-the best time-keeper I ever saw! Stem-
winder; chronometer movement; heavy, fine golr
case I had it regulated down to the finest point;
it was losing only about a second and a half a
Other voices here joined in; the corridor ap-
peared to be filling with boarders, all excited by
the news of Mr. Hatville's loss.
"No," said that gentleman; "I was n't at all
anxious about it; only, when I found we could n'r
get back last night, I was vexed to think it wouki:
run down. I would n't have had that happen fL,
five dollars. Where's Oily ?" he demanded. "I,?
must know something about it."
Oily trembled in his bed. He would have pre-
ferred just then to take his chances with a whok
school of dog-fishes, of the largest size, rather tha:
confront the wrathful owner of the watch.
"I don't think he knows anything about it:




said Mrs. Murcher, now quite near Olly's door.
" He has been away all night; he has had a terri-
ble time out at sea-in the sea -and on the rocks.
Don't disturb him! He 's fast asleep."
If he has n't slept for a week, and can't sleep
again for a fortnight," cried Hatville, I 'll have
him up and see if he knows anything about that
"Let me speak to him!" said Mrs. Murcher.
"You 've no idea how weak and tired and worn
out he is. I 've got him into a perspiration, and
now if it is checked, I shall expect nothing in the
world but that he will have a fit of sickness, and
may be never get over it."
It ought not to check an honest boy's perspira-
tion, to tell what he knows about my chronometer,"
Hatville muttered, while Mrs. Murcher, stepping
down the two or three stairs that led to the old
attic, opened Oily's door.
Sh she whispered gently, motioning Mr.
Hatville back. He 's so sound asleep! It's
such a pity to wake him, poor boy But I suppose
I must."
Oily lay with his back toward her, with his
head and face covered by the sheet. His perspi-
ration had n't ceased, by any means; he felt that
he was fast dissolving in a clammy -..i:-..- of
abject fear.
He'sin such a b.-: .'- dewy, i-i '.1::. inno-
cent sleep said the motherly Mrs. -. .. .i .r. lay-
ing her hand softly on his brow. Just the r'-.;.
he needs; better than all the medicine in the
world 1" She was tempted to add, "or than all
the watches "
Still Hatville did not relent. Without strongly
suspecting Olly of taking the watch, he was yet
determined to pursue his investigations, even if he
broke the most beautiful, dewy, :1i:. .:-. inno-
cent slumber on earth.
Shake him! he said.
So Mrs. Murcher shook, gently at then
more and more vigorously, saying, "Olly! Oliver!
Olly Burdeen! Oliver Burdeen more and
more ..i 11 in his ear, until he suddenly sprang
up with a muttered cry,
Stop that boat stop that-- she 's running
on the Old Cow' Oh, boys where arm I ?"
And, appearing to recognize Mrs. Murcher's
presence for the first time, he rolled up his eyes
and sank back with a groan on thep ..



" OIly Wake up a minute What 's become of
my watch? "
Watch? repeated '': .still .I -*, his
real fears in a .-r .: I fictitious terror.
" What watch? I thought I was in the i v,ater
again "
His voice trembled, though not from
that more remote cause which he desired to ir-
press upon the minds of spectators.
'* I,. watch, which I left hanging in the case
beside my bureau when I ,went yachting yester-
day," said .-ia ... as much imposed tipor as rhe
sympathizing IMrs. Murcher herself. What has
become of it ? "
"'Your watch?" ne repeated, eith a bemwil-
dered air, as if beginning dimly to cnimprhend
the question. How should I know ? I 'r been
away. I 've been wrecked. Have n' th-yr told
you ? "
"You have n't the watch, .zave yo ? ". ex-
claimed the landlady.
"His watch? Mr. Hatrille's Of course I
have n't What should I have his watch for ? :
The brunE of the inquiry thus rnet, Olly fek
that he was .. hs part ver :. and took
courage. Then somebody in the corridor whi-
pered t oMr. i -.- who... : asked
What boy was that who care here to, th
house for you last evening? ."
Boy ? I don't know of any sid Olr.
"You remember, Any: yoau sloirwed him h ip-
stairs,'" said Mrs. Merrinman
I know the one yioua mean; Icne of ihle T
End boys,!" exclaimed MI. Ms rcher. He s~ i
he and some friends of O(ly's crve re csampig orM
the beach, and wanted hlim toi jin thai i. Il
can't be that he took it t "
"Who. showed hiu upstairs? iAla.i'"
cried Hat ille.
It was a moment o0 fearful sispese ,tr..a i
iewho remembered what Porce haMi sad if coming,
to invite him to their picnic, ;,. i- ail hi
had either sailed in ohe yachtc orr gonise hoiimer tom
show his new clotixes, Hie stopped brcadliting to
hear AmyTs reply, in clear. I i crmnimes, tiTOn th1ie
farther end of ane ouniidonr,
Yes; I. showed hiim iiap, aad i *** i .i
room. mlrs. Mircder was re.,.
trying on his mew cRiths..'"
But he wa' s -'-." said M.. Muir.cii. -And
the boy cuame dn'wTrah ssia agai iri a 7r1w fatw,

"Where was he '.. '. Sthe fe1w miin attrs"
lr. Hat i1R1c deimandled, Dii y(Bm mai lb iiibm.,
Arw ? "

SHE 's delirious whispered the adlady. "I ~ ndeed!! slIfld I tia ll
" He 's dreaming," the boarder. troale to wach m ? "T cried -MWi-- Caf~felldl


What was to prevent his going into my room,"
Hatville inquired, and taking the watch ?"
Nothing that I know of." The silvery accents
faltered. "I don't know but I am to blame, Mr.
Hatville !"
Oh, no It was n't your business to watch
strangers who gain admission to the house," said
But I did something which I see now was very
indiscreet," Amy exclaimed. It was growing

Oily overheard this conversation with strangely
mingled feelings of envy and remorse, of fear
and guilt. How admirable was Amy's prompt
confession of her fault, and how readily it was for-
given Why could n't he have had a little of her
courage, owned his folly, and thrown himself upon
Mr. Hatville's mercy! His implied denial had
now cut him off from that only noble course; and
he saw no way to disentangle the web in which
he had involved both himself and his friend.

1 I



quite dark in the passage, and I opened the door
of your room to let in more light. I knew you
were not there, and I had no idea your watch was.
I am very sorry."
You are very frank," replied Hatville. "But
don't blame yourself. Of course, you had no idea
of putting temptation in the way of a rogue."
"No; and I can't believe he was a rogue--
such a fine, honest-looking face as he had! Amy
exclaimed. "But I had no business to open
your door."

Was n't it the same boy who came here again
this morning?" asked Mr. Merriman. He had
discovered Olly on the 'Old Cow,'- though
nobody knew it was Olly; and he came to get
oars and a spy-glass."
Yes," said one of the other ladies.- "and he
came upstairs to look from the windows. He
might have gone into your room then, Mr.
"But if he had stolen the watch the night
before, would he have shown his face here again




this morning?" argued the landlady, who had
been too much bewildered by what had occurred
in her house, to take much part in the previous
"He might have done just that thing," Hatville
replied, "in order to brazen it out, and make a
show of innocence. But most likely he saw the
chronometer then, and, having had time to think
about it, he watched for a chance to take it this
morning, when it was supposed I might have been
lost in the yacht."
That seemed very probable; and Mrs. Murcher
was obliged to admit that there had been no other
stranger about the place, to her knowledge, except
the messenger who brought Mr. Hatville's tele-
gram. He, however, had not got out of his buggy.
That same boy is on the beach now, gather-
ing seaweed," said Mrs. Merriman. "At least, he
was there a short time ago."
"That's good news!" cried Hatville, gayly.
" Who '11 go with me and point him out? We '11
interview this seaweed-gatherer, who does a little
side business in other people's watches !"
And Oily could hear his boots departing in
haste through the corridor and descending the
stairs. One or two ladies went with him to iden-
tify the supposed culprit; while others remained
to discuss this last exciting revelation.
Such a bright, interesting boy !" said one;
"I should n't have believed it of him !"
"I thought him a young hero !" cried another,
"to leave his work and start off to the rescue !"
"Well! said a third, I thought so, too. He
certainly organized the whole thing; and it seems
strange to me that he should have shown so much
zeal to save the life, perhaps, of the very person
whose watch he had just taken !"
"You can't tell much from a boy's looks, or his
actions either, as to what he may do when exposed

to temptation," was the rather severe rejoinder of
the first speaker.
"Not unless you know him pretty well," added
one of the others.
"As we know Oily, for instance," observed
some one else. I actually believe Mr. Hatville
at first suspected he had taken it."
"Absurd Preposterous Nonsense "
chorused all together. All which Oily overheard
with feelings which can hardly be imagined by any-
body not actually suffering what he suffered then.
Had the lady boarders spoken harshly or sus-
piciously of him, he might have hardened his
heart. But their kind words made him bitterly
regret that he had not kept his good reputation by
frankly owning the fault, which, if discovered now,
must convict him of dishonesty.
And to a boy like him,- not a bad boy at heart,
by any means, as I trust you all understand,-it
was a terrible thing to know that another was
accused of downright theft, in consequence of his
own foolish and cowardly conduct. And that one
a friend,-a friend, too, who had just rescued
him from danger and distress! Poor Olly almost
wished he had been left to perish; that he had
never reached the back of the Old Cow," or been
seen or heard of again.
All this he kept to himself, and lay with his face
turned to the wall, thinking of the probable result
of the charge against Perce Bucklin, and of retri-
bution falling upon himself; when Mrs. Murcher
came and pulled the coverlet carefully over his
shoulder, and shut the door again gently as she
went out, leaving him, as she supposed, to sleep.
Of course they can't prove anything against
Perce," he tried to console himself by ii" .( ;
for he was utterly ignorant of the astounding evi-
dence that was to free him from the last shadow
of suspicion, and fix the guilt on his friend.


THEY held a great meeting a king to select,
And the kangaroo rose in a d;cli -,.i way,
And said, I 'm the one you should surely elect,
For I can out-leap every beast here to-day."
Said the eagle, How high can you climb toward the sky?"
Said the nightingale, Favor us, please, with a song "
Said the hawk, Let us measure our powers of eye !"
Said the lion, "Come wrestle, and prove you are strong !"
But the kangaroo said, It would surely be best,
In our choice of a king, to make leaping the test!"

(To 6e continued.)





GREAT was the surprise of scholars, both Hin-
doo and European, when certain students of old
languages claimed that the letters of the San-
skrit, the classical language of India, were origi-
nally derived from an alphabet, akin to the
Phoenician, used by a great branch of the great
race of peoples who are called Shemites, or
Semites, after one of the sons of Noah. (The
Jews, Arabs, Philistines, Hittites, Phoenicians,
and Aramamans are Semites.) Those students
believe that the wonderful peninsula of India,
which, as far back as traditions go, has been
crowded with men of various colors and differ-
ent tongues, received a Semitic alphabet under
two forms by two different roads, and perhaps
at periods far apart. They believe that there
was a land road and a sea road. They trace
one alphabet by land, through Bactria and
Cashmere, from one fierce and intelligent nation
to another; and they believe that they have
traced a second alphabet from Arabia to India
by way of the Red Sea. The nation that car-
ried the latter alphabet is supposed to have
been the Sabmeans, an ancient people of Arabia,
who were once as powerful in the Southern seas
as the Phoenicians, their kindred, were in the
Perhaps the word Sanskrit means nothing to
you, but it is the name of an important old Orien-
tal language. Sanskrit stands in very much the
same relation to many Eastern languages as Latin
does to the languages of Italy, Spain, and France.
In the last century, William Jones, a Welshman
of marked genius, went, like many young Britons,
to India to advance his fortunes under the British
mercantile government of that land. It was he
who first called the attention of Europe to Sanskrit.
Since his day much of its poetry and legends has
been read, many of its fables and dramatic works
have been translated. The word Sanskrit means
polished and perfected; and polished and per-
fected its alphabet certainly is. It is the most
complete and most carefully devised alphabet of all
those that we know. Sanskrit writings very solid and
handsome in appearance,-a stately script worthy
of holding the decrees which mighty monarchs
issued from courts magnificent with all the splen-
dors of the Orient. There are not twenty-two
letters as in the Phonician alphabet, nor twenty-

six as in ours -there are forty-seven Instead of
beginning with A, the Sanskrit alphabet begins
with K. Why? Because K is a letter spoken
from the throat. Indian grammarians carefully
noted in what parts of the throat and mouth the
different sounds of their language were made, and,
for convenience, they systematized their ample
alphabet on this admirable plan. They put their
fourteen vowels by themselves as broad, open
sounds which were shorter or longer; and, taking
the consonants, they placed first on the list those
which are spoken from the throat, then those spoken
from the palate, then those spoken from the roof
of the mouth nearest the brain, then those spoken
from the teeth, and finally those spoken from the
lips. The list of consonants starts with those
uttered low down in the throat and ends with
those uttered from the lips; added to these are
the soft and flowing consonants called semi-vowel;
--, R, L, andv; and after these come the sibilants,
or hissed letters, and the letter H,-forty-seven
in all.
The Indian grammarians who devised this com-
plete and scientific system must have had ears
almost as sharp as those of the boy in the old store,
who was said to be able to hear the grass growing.
They distinguished between a number of conso-
nants containing a sound of N,-between "twangs"
very slightly differing in sound; and they placed
them also in the order of their utterance, be-
ginning with an N uttered from the throat and
ending with one spoken with the tongue close tc
the lips. Our language has two or three different
N sounds, but our alphabet does not distinguish
them. The French language also has several x
sounds not indicated by the alphabet, so that one
can not hope to speak French intelligibly, still
less accurately, without practice with teachers who
can render the different N sounds. The Spanish
alphabet tries to indicate a second N by putting a
mark over the N-thus, N. Then, too, we have
three sounds for which our alphabet has but
one letter, s; while the Sanskrit alphabet has
three letters, one for each sound of s. In the
alphabet, as in many other matters, the more
enlightened nations of India put to shame the most
advanced nations of the Western World.
Did you ever notice how, in our script, or written
characters, for the sake of clearness and to keep
some letters distinct from others, we have gradu-
ally come to write some of them with tall heads



above the upper line, or with long tails below the
lower line ? And still we are constantly mistaking
an 1 for a badly crossed t, and a g for aj or a y;
while some letters that do not go above or below
the line, such as m, n, i, w, u, and r, are constantly
confounded in rapid writing. We are so used to
this confusion that we seldom think of it, and we
fail to wonder why some arrangement is not gen-
erally agreed to, which would do away with it. By
remembering this fact, you will avoid the mistake
of thinking because our alphabet, written or printed,
is so good, that it could not be better. There is
great room for improvement in both departments;
in the printed form, the difference between n and u,
for instance, is none too great; while in writing
hardly one person in ten thousand distinguishes
them from each other,-which letter is meant
must be guessed by the reader. But the men and
women who set up type and correct proofs are
much bothered by these defects in our alphabet.
The difficulty of having changes made in exist-
ing alphabets is very great, yet this is not necessa-
rily a disadvantage. Much insight into the origin
and gradual improvements of sets of letters has been
gained by studying the order in which the several
letters stand. The order varies greatly in different
nations, and varies slightly at different epochs in
the same nation. In taking the Phoenician letters,
the Greeks dropped some, used others for slightly
different sounds, and added a few to express
sounds that were important to them or that did
not exist in the Phoenician. But this was done
very gradually. It never has been easy to induce
people to change and improve their alphabets.
But there is another reason why men have
refused to change the order of letters by insert-
ing a new and useful letter in the place where it
naturally belonged. The Greeks and many other
peoples used the letters of the alphabet for nu-
merals. We use our own numbers without stopping
to think whence they came. The cumbersome
system used by the Romans, and called after
them, consisted of strokes (I-II-III-IIII) to
indicate the four fingers, and two strokes joined
(V) to represent the hand, or five fingers. Ten
was a picture of two hands, or two V's (X).
Among the Etruscans the half of one, or, as we
put it, Y, was >, which we think stood for a fore-
finger crooked in order to denote the half of one
finger. But when the Etruscans and Greeks
worked at the higher mathematics or attempted
hard sums in arithmetic, they are much more
likely to have used letters, in order to avoid the
clumsiness of these numerals; in other words,
they used what looked like a kind of algebra. We
know that they tried to simplify the Roman nu-
merals at Rome by making four and nine with three

strokes instead of four, by placing an I before the
V and an I before the X (IV and IX).
Our use of the numerals which we call "Ara-
bic" is comparatively recent, and it is believed
that the Arabs got these numbers from India
several centuries after the Koran was written, or
about eight hundred years after Christ. But the
fact that the Greeks and others used the letters of
their alphabets for numerals, caused the order in
which they were written to remain fixed. If alpha
stood for I, beta for 2, gamma for 3, delta for 4,
and so on up to ten, then a newly coined or newly
adopted letter could not be inserted without great
confusion; it had to be tacked on to the end of the
alphabet. So, when scholars find in inscriptions
letters, adopted from another alphabet, which
stand out of their natural order, they can make a
shrewd guess at the century in which the inscrip-
tion was made. Suppose an alphabet, which is
also used for numerals, loses a letter in the course
of time, because there is very little or no use for it;
then that letter is still of service for a numeral, and
it can not be dropped as a number, though it drops
out as a letter. When it is found still employed as a
numeral, it reveals some of the history of the alpha-
bet to which it once belonged. These are only a few
of many methods of determining the age of a given
inscription. Old coins are very useful in settling
what the alphabets of various nations were at
different epochs.
Our own numerals are extremely convenient for
ordinary arithmetic. Algebra, in which letters
stand for numbers, is useful for abstract reasoning
in mathematics; it treats of the properties of
numbers in general. Whether the Indian numer-
als were originally part of some ancient alphabet,
or a series of shortened signs originally some-
what like the Roman numerals that we still use, is
not really decided.
There was a curious fashion among certain
grammarians and mathematicians of Old India
which may be mentioned here. They liked to
increase their own importance by making knowl-
edge hard to attain; as it imposed on their pupils,
and even more on the outside world. They also
wished to exercise the memories of their pupils,
and keep them mindful of certain numbers and
dates by means of memorizing words. In works
on arithmetic and prosody, they deliberately wrote
out long words which meant nothing if looked at
as parts of a sentence, but stood for so many
numbers if the reader had the clew. If such a
grammarian wished to write the number twelve by
this method, he would write down moon, eyes ";
because there is one moon and two eyes. If he
wished to signify the number 1486, he would
write "moon, seas, mountains, seasons "; because




in India people believed that in the world there
were one moon, four seas, and eight mountain
chains, and six seasons during the year. So ingen-
ious were they in hiding plain things under an
artificial system The priestly rulers of Egypt,
also moved by pride and the desire to seem
learned, began at a remote period to make the
hieroglyphics as hard as possible to understand.
For a given word they would always choose as
little known and seldom used a character as they
could think of. And doubtless this did render
them objects of greater reverence in the eyes of
pupils and of common folk.
But to return to the numbers that we call Ara-
bic and the Arabs call Indian. The numbers
used by the peoples of India who wrote in Sanskrit
were very like the figures I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,
and o, that we use to-day. Even closer resem-
blances will be found if one goes back to the earliest
forms of our numerals; for, during the last thou-
sand years, our numbers have undergone some
slight changes. We took them, as you have heard,
from the Arabs, who did not employ them much



before 800 A. D. ; and the use of them did not
penetrate into Europe by way of Italy and Spain
until four centuries later. Together with these
numerals, the Arabs learned from India how to do
sums by algebra. For algebra, though an Arabic
word, is a science of which the Arabs were ignorant
before they reached India. How long the Indians
of Hindostan had used this system of notation along
with their alphabet, we can not yet determine ; but
it is quite possible that the old grammarians who
improved the Sanskrit were enabled to fashion its
alphabet into so scientific an order of groups be-
cause this separate system of numerals existed at
even a more remote period, and had been found
handier than the signs of the alphabet. Not using
their letters as numerals, they could marshal them
on the best system they were able to devise, as we,
too, have been able to do with our alphabet ever
since we got the Indian numerals from the Arabs.
It may be said that the invention of these numer-
als and of algebra for the higher mathematics
stamps the old Hindoos as one of the most won-
derful races of the world.

(To be concluded.)


i=i-~--~---~;~--~"-`~i~.~-~--s~-~D'~,~? ---~5.ii-~-_--; ;I




ONE evening as the woods grew dark,
The Brownies wandered through a park,, r
And soon a building, quaint and sm ill.
Appeared to draw the gaze of all. .
Said one: This place contains, no .I.. ". '
The tools of workmen hereabout, .. ':
Who trim the vine, and shape the tr.:.i'''" L 'L'
Or smooth the walks, as chance ma) I:. : 1
Another said: You 're quite astra:.. I
The workmen's tools are miles away.
Within this building may be found
The fixtures for the tennis ground. I i
A meadow near, both long and wide, '. '. I,
For half the year is set aside,

S :. .- .,J ]T _?->,>\ -_

And marked with many a square and court,
For those who love the royal sport.
On afternoons assembled there,
The active men and maidens fair

Keep up the game until the day
Has faded into evening gray.
And then the racket, net, and ball
Are stowed away for future call."



" In other lands than those we tread,
I played the game," another said,
" And proved my skill and muscle stout,
As 'server' and as striker-out.'

May praise the keeper's cautious mind,
But all the same an entrance find,
And for the present evening claim
Whate'er is needed for the game."

Ere long, the path that lay between
The building and the meadow green,
Was crowded with the bustling throng,
All bearing implements along;
Some lugging stakes or racket sets,
And others buried up in nets
TTntil their feet alone they showed

And all the rules can quote as well
As those who print them out to sell;
The lock that hangs before us there
Bears witness to the keeper's care,
And tramps or burglars might go by,
If such a sign should meet the eye.
But we, who laugh at locks or law
Designed to keep mankind in awe,

Beneath their loose and trailing load.
To set the posts and mark the ground
The proper size and shape around,
With service-line and line of base,
And courts, both left and right, in place,





Was work that caused but slight delay;
And soon the sport was under way.
And then a strange and stirring scene
Was pictured out upon the green.

Some watched the game and noted well
Where this or that one would excel.
And shouts and calls that filled the air
Proved even-handed playing there.
With anxious looks some kept the score,

At times so hot the contest grew,
Established laws aside they threw,
And in the game where four should stand,
At least a dozen took a hand.
Some tangled in the netting lay
And some from base-lines strayed away.
Some hit the ball when out of place
Or scrambled through unlawful space.
But still no game was forced to halt
Because of this or greater fault.

I" 'I
I -.---*



I _V-r~j~A J

And shouted "'vantage!" "game all!" or
To some "love, forty "deuce !" to more;
But when "deuce set the scorer cried,
Applause would ring on every side.

And there they sported on the lawn
Until the ruddy streaks of dawn
Gave warning that the day was near,
And Brownies all must disappear.





OH 1 what a fine carriage, and what hand-
some horses! They are as gay as the coach
and horses of Cinderella!" and the bright-faced
little girl, with a glory of spring sunshine illumi-
nating her glossy hair, clasped her bare brown
hands in delight.
"It dashed by so quickly, I had not time to
notice it," replied Grandma Eaton, looking over
her glasses down the turf-striped country road
after the rapidly departing carriage. I wonder
whose it can be? There it has stopped. What
is that for, Ella, child?"
"I don't know, Grandma, dear; but I think
something about the harness has given way. See !
the horses are dancing and prancing. The gentle-
man has jumped from the carriage. He has taken
something from his pocket. It looks like a knife.
Oh, yes!"
"I had good eyes once, but they have served
their day," sighed Grandma Eaton.
The horses are quiet, now," went on Ella, who
had not once taken her observant eyes from a
spectacle so unusual for that quiet neighborhood.
" Now the strap is mended, I think, and everything
is all right," added the child with a little sigh of
regret; and as the gentleman drove swiftly on, she
left the window and skipped out to the edge of
the road, to see the fine horses prance away.
"I guessed rightly, Grandma, dear! cried
Ella as she came running back from the scene of
the accident. "It was a broken strap, for here is
a piece, almost torn in two, that was cut off. And
here is a penny I found right under it; a bright,
new penny -as yellow as gold!"
"This is no penny," said the woman, taking
the shining coin in her own hand and looking at it
closely; it is an eagle. I know an eagle when I
see one, although I have not had one of my own
for many a day."
"Ten mills make one cent, ten cents make one
dime, ten dimes make one dollar, ten dollars
make one eagle! A golden eagle! Oh, how
much good it will do us !" exclaimed the little girl
as she glanced at her grandmother's thin shawl
and at the scant belongings of their humble home.
We are not to think of that," said Grandma
Eaton, speaking so decidedly that a flush over-
spread her thin, worn face. "The coin belongs
to the gentleman who just dropped it; and I do
not doubt that a way will be opened for it to be
returned to its owner. Those who seek to do right

seldom lack opportunity. Cinderella's horses and
carriage pass this way too seldom to escape notice,
and probably some of our neighbors will be able
to tell us to whom they belong."
But all the men in the quiet, out-of-the-way
neighborhood had been at town-meeting that
afternoon, and none of the women folk, excepting
Grandma Eaton and little Ella, had seen the fine
sight. They would have remembered it almost as
the figment of a dream, had it not been for the
bright ten-dollar gold piece laid away in cotton ia
Grandma Eaton's best china tea-pot, on the top
shelf of the parlor cupboard.
On the very next Monday morning after this
episode, that same glossy-haired, blue-eyed Ella,
with grandma's thin shawl pinned about her shoul-
ders, made one of a bevy of girls who, with arnrs
full of books, slates, and lunch-baskets, were draw-
ing near a plain little brown school-house, standing
in the shade of a tall, plumy pine-tree on a sandy
hillside that was supposed to be exactly in the,
center of the Pine Meadow school-district.
Oh, there 's a fire in the school-house cried
Lizzie Barber; and I 'm glad, for my fingers are
cold. I was in such a hurry I forgot my mittens."
"We don't often find a fire made on the first
day of school," said Abby Wood, "because the
committee-man has to go for the teacher."
He must have kindled it before he started
away," said Ella, "because it has been burning some
time. I can tell by the thinness of the smoke."
That is just like you, Ella Eaton," put in An-
gelina Brown. "You 're always pretending to
know things by what you see that no one else
would ever think about. Can't you be obliging
enough to look through the walls and tell us who
is there ? Perhaps school has begun."
I have no way of telling that," laughed Ella,
good-naturedly; but, no doubt some of the boys
are there to make first choice of the seats."
The boys must have climbed in at one of the
windows," whispered Ella. Let us serenade
them to let them know we are here."
And she began one of their familiar school
songs in a clear, ringing voice, her companions at
once joining in with the melody.
By this time they had crossed the waste of
sand, and were at the school-house door; but, on
trying to enter, they were surprised to find the
stout hasp and padlock as secure as it had been
through all the long vacation.




Immediately heavy footsteps were heard hur-
riedly crossing the school-room, one of the small
windows was thrown up with a bang, and a stout,
rough-looking, tangled-haired, shabby fellow
scrambled out in great haste. He cast his eyes
sharply about, made a rush at the group of af-
frighted little girls huddled together upon the
broad door-stone, grabbed Ella's lunch-basket
with one hand, and Angelina's dinner-pail with
the other, cleared the low rail fence near by at a
running jump, and was lost to sight in the wood-
land at the end of the field.
As the ruffianly
tramp ran in one di-
rection, the little girls,
dropping all their
wraps and traps, and
seizing hold of hands,
ran almost as fast in
the other.
How far they might
have gone, had they
not been turned about
by meeting the commit-
tee-man and the pretty
young lady teacher, it .
would be hard to say. .
The girls were sure // "
a grim, weather-beaten /
tramp would be found
under every desk, and
two or three in the wood ,.
closet, and they could
not be persuaded to i
enter the school until
a thorough search had
been made.
It was not so bad as
that; but what they
did find was a broken
window, a fragment of
bread, the teacher's
chair split into kin-
dlings and nearly i
burned, and a large
bundle of expensive I5:
silks and laces. THE GOLD PIECE WAS
The intruder had
apparently either fallen asleep by the fire and
overslept himself, or, not supposing that school
was to begin so early in the season, had intended
to make the secluded building his hiding-place
for the day.
There was a burglary committed at Willi-
notic night before last," said Mr. Stiles, the com-
mittee-man, and I fancy these are a part of the
spoils. A large reward is offered for the detection

and identification of the robbers; so, girls, it will
be to your advantage to remember how that fellow
"I shall never forget him," said Lizzie; "he
was the tallest man I ever saw."
Abby was sure he was short. Angelina fancied
he was lame; and Ella remembered he had a bent
nose. They all agreed that he was fierce and
horrid, and were equally sure they should know
him if they should ever see him again.
The affair made a great local excitement; and
when the goods were identified as belonging to



the great Willinotic dry goods firm of Clark &
Rogers, the girls who had enjoyed such an expe-
rience with a real burglar were the envy of all the
boys in the community.
But time sped on, the nine-days' excitement had
become but a memory in the dull routine of school
duties, and June had arrived with its roses, when
one day word came from Clark & Rogers, asking
Mr. Stiles, the committee-man, to. bring the little


girls who had encountered the burglar, to Willi-
notic, to see if they could pick him out of a number
of men who had been arrested while undermining
a railway culvert some days before: "There is a
tall one, and a short one, a lame one, and one with
a bent nose," the letter said; so it seems that
there is a great deal of material upon which the
little women may exercise their memories."
I am so glad my mother sent to New York
for my gypsy hat," said Angelina. My mother
finished my blue dress last night," said Lizzie;
and while Abby was telling what she expected to
wear, Ella ran on ahead, fearing that she might
be questioned upon the same subject, for she
knew very well that nothing new, pretty, or fresh
would fall to her lot. A thought of the gold eagle
did cross her mind; but she bravely put it away
from her.
And neither could the dear old grandmother
help thinking of the gold piece when she heard
that Ella had been summoned to Willinotic; but
she, too, resolutely conquered the temptation, say-
ing to herself:
"My grandchild shows her good breeding in
her gentle manners and speech, and they are bet-
ter than fine clothes."
The day at Willinotic was a unique experience
for the bevy of little country girls. They enjoyed
the hour's ride on the railway and the fine sights
in the handsome streets of the large town ; but
the grand, white-marble court-house, where they
were taken, filled most of them with a vague
alarm. The sultry summer air drew cool and
fresh through the long corridors, and they almost
shivered as they were given seats in a lofty room,
from which the glaring sun was studiously ex-
cluded. Through the half-open doorway they
caught glimpses of the grave, gold-spectacled
judge at his high desk; the black-coated lawyers
seated at their long table in front; the witness-
stand with its railing; and a pale-faced prisoner
sitting beside an officer.
There is going to be a thunder-shower," said
Angelina, "and I know I shall be frightened to
Let 's all take hold of hands," said Abby
Wood. I never felt so lonesome in all my life.
I 'm going back to the depot for fear we shall be
I '11 go with you," said Lizzie. I don't re-
member anything about the old tramp, only that
he was short and I wish I had n't come."
"Why, Lizzie Barber," cried Angelina, "you
have always said he was the tallest man you ever
saw How Mr. Stiles will laugh "
Well, I shan't stay to be laughed at half
sobbed Lizzie. Come, Ella."

We must not leave this room, where Mr. Stiles
told us to stay until he came for us," said Ella, so
resolutely that her companions sat down again,
although Abby whispered to Angelina:
The idea of our minding a little girl like Ella,
just as if she were the school-teacher herself "
Happily, Mr. Stiles appeared in time to pre-
vent another outbreak, saying:
Come, Angelina. You may as well go in
"Oh, dear!" sighed Angelina. "I wish
Mother had come And she was led away into
the great court-room.
One by one Mr. Stiles came for the girls, until
Ella was left alone. She curled herself up like a
kitten in one of the large arm-chairs, and silently
took in her unaccustomed surroundings with keen
"Come, Ella," said Mr. Stiles kindly. And
she followed him slowly into the court-room, hear-
ing some one whisper lightly as she passed:
"So there is another one. I wonder if her
testimony will carry as much weight as that of her
mates. It was foolish to expect such children,
and girls too, to identify any one."
As Ella cast a slow, thoughtful look about the
room, her blue eyes suddenly dilated, and, leaving_
Mr. Stiles's side, she walked straight up to one of
the lawyers, who regarded her curiously, where ,
dropping a quaint little courtesy that her grand-
mother had taught her, she said modestly:
"Excuse me, sir,-perhaps I ought not to tell
you here, but perhaps I may not see you again,-
and I found your gold eagle."
"What did you say?" asked the gentleman
kindly. "How do you happen to know me,
little girl? And what was that about a gold
eagle ? "
"I do not know you, sir; but Grandma says
one may speak to a stranger on business. I saw
you that day- Freeman's meeting-day, it was,
you know -when you drove through North
Damesfield, and a strap in your harness broke.
When you took out your knife to mend it, you
dropped a gold eagle, and I picked it up. Grand-
ma has it at home in her china tea-pot, and will
be ever so glad I saw you, for ten dollars is a
great deal of money to have in the house when
it is not your own."
It was a funny little episode to happen in the
crowded court-room, and the lawyers all turned to
listen; and the grave judge, from his high seat,
looked kindly down upon the little girl, while a
smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth and
hinted of granddaughters at home.
How do you know it was I who lost the
money ? asked Mr. Gorden, with twinkling eyes.





r ^y^/,
".*r / /
''ft d

.... .i v .,,.. .
'II, "':'0.
i .: "" ^ '""
'" "' ^ '" .. ../ 'I' "'"
e b I ,

"Why, I saw you, sir, and I could not help
knowing you again."
"How was it, Mr. Gorden?" asked the judge,
as if this diversion was not altogether unwelcome;
and the lawyer replied:
"I did drive through North Damesfield, on
Freeman's meeting-day, by the old turnpike, to
avoid the mud by the river road. The harness

did break, and I feared for a time that I might
have trouble with my horses; I had purchased
them only two days before. I did make a new
hole in the strap with my pocket-knife, and I surely
on that day lost a ten-dollar gold piece. I thought,
however, that it was stolen from me at the misera-
ble little tavern where I had spent the previous
night. I am so glad to find myself mistaken, that I


4t I .



gladly give the gold piece to my little friend here,
who, it seems to me, has a better claim to it than
I have."
Oh, sir, I thank you, but, indeed, I do not
think Grandma would let me take it, because,
really, it does n't belong to me at all."
"It does, if I choose to give it to you, my
child," said the gentleman, smoothing her glossy
curls. And now, do you think you will be so
sure of the fellow who gave you such a sorry
fright, and stole your dinner, as you were of
Oh, yes, sir If he is here, I shall know him.
I saw him plainly." And, turning about as she was
told, she faced the half dozen prisoners, with a
little shiver. That is the one," she said at once;
" the one with his hands in his pockets. His nose
is bent just a little to one side, you see. And, oh !
sir! if you look at the thumb on his right hand
you will see that the end has been cut off; and
that the nail grows sharp and long, like a claw.
I saw it when he snatched my lunch-basket, but I
have never thought of it since. I seemed to see it
again when I saw his face."
"That is an interesting little point, showing the
association of ideas," said one of the lawyers in a
low tone to another; and the prisoner whom the
little girl designated was ordered to take his
hands from his pockets. He refused doggedly at
first; but, seeing that it was of no use for him to
resist, he withdrew them, and, holding up his pecul-
iar thumb in a defiant way, he muttered:
"The girl saw my thumb when she came in,
and spoke about it because she wants to get the
The prisoner kept his hands in his pockets
ever since he entered the court-room," said the
'Not continually, I think," said one of the law-
yers; and Mr. Gorden suggested:
It may be well to put this child's memory to
another test." And, turning to Ella, he asked
kindly, Are you often in Willinotic, little girl?"
"I was never here until to-day, sir," she an-
"Do you think you would know my horses if
you saw them on the street? inquired Mr.
"Yes, sir," said Ella, I am sure I should
know them anywhere."
She will have her match this time, I fancy,"
said one of the lawyers to another in a low voice;
of course she is not prepared for the variety of
teams to he seen on our main street."
A great deal of curiosity was felt in regard to
this third test of the womanly little girl's memory,
and the court took a recess, lawyers, judge, Mr.

Stiles, and all the school-girls going to the deep
balcony of the court-house.
Ella seemed simply unconscious that the eyes
of the whole party centered upon her as she leaned
against the railing, holding her hat in her hand,
while the wind lifted her curls and brought the
color back to her pale cheeks.
There were, indeed, many fine carriages and
horses. Ella was closely observant, but not con-
fused. She did not appear to notice one team
more than another until ten minutes had passed;
then the color went out of her cheeks again, her
eyes opened wide, and she exclaimed:
"There they come, sir! up the street--the
gray with a sorrel mate. It is a different car-
riage, but the very same lap robe. You had it
spread over a white fur one when I saw you."
"Very true," said Mr. Gorden. Your three
tests of memory are unimpeachable; and now, will
you be so kind as to tell us how it happens th.,t
your memory is so much more retentive than th t
of most children of your age ? "
I suppose, sir," said Ella, as the others gath,-
ered about to listen, "it is because my father
used to teach me that it was rude and useless to
stare long at any person or anything. He said I
must train my eye to see everything at a glanc:.,
and we used to amuse ourselves by looking at pic:-
ures in that way. It is just like a game; and one
can play at it all alone, too. I have kept it up b -
cause I live alone with my grandma out on the old
turnpike, and I seldom have any one to play with.
I only had one good look at you, sir, but I saw yoir
black eyes, your gray mustache, and the look ;i
your face that can be stern or can be very kind.
At this, Squire Gorden's brother lawyers ll
laughed in concert and the grave judge smiled,
for they all were familiar with the look which the
little girl had so artlessly described.
The thief confessed his crime later.
"I noticed how that blue-eyed girl looked at
me that morning at the school-house," he said,
"and I felt, somehow, as though she would know
me if she ever saw me again."
The burglar was sent to prison; and Ella not
only was given the gold eagle she had found, but
she also received the reward for identifying the
thief. And she won so many warm and helpful
friends that day at the court-house that her grand-
mother used often to say: "That was really
a Cinderella coach and pair to you, dear. And
you are a matter-of-fact Cinderella yourself,
though you have no fairy godmother, such as she
"But I have you, dear Grandma," said Ella,
"and you 're worth a dozen fairy godmothers. So
I 'm luckier than the other Cinderella, after all! "



bac 6 V z)n6

A~nd cried 'Tn- TNy Tjeed OF

Ten Top d ToP5 U -po Me I
bakhr B~anpd f8~ess~;~hc ~
LPi1 up LAIDd"r2 ~iie. of~a-P1
-Izae Ja.

4-- Te e n..I

Mi~ n bwr~d Tk
SenTie- fe8bast -r eat
1 TI-d and TffHtede sweet I
% te, ~T~ur ~W&b 1rder 'rleatll Lev Feet.
qle~ TS cap w/th Lce. 'wa, 1'i rnved
II I I. -
+er Thte, U 0,\ uckej -Dn6 Trimme
no 1eear adhee' e-rat e eredB~ hoi 'Mee O i

I t

nnod I'o nd ztiC Ten
8hWvw k for &aIL%

VOL. XIII.-55.






THERE are few persons who have not admired
marquetry, or the sort of mosaic work made by
sawing out pieces of wood of different colors and
fitting them into one another. This is effected in

three ways. The first is by simply sawing out squares,
diamonds, crosses, or any pattern of which all the
pieces are alike and can be fitted together. The de-
signing of these is a very interesting exercise. I may
briefly say that it can be done by drawing cross lines
at equal distances, like those of a chess-board, and
tracing similarly-sized pieces from them. The Arabs
and Moors excelled in such designing and work.
The second kind of marquetry is made with a
fret, or "jig," or scroll saw. One of these may be
had for a few cents, but a good equipment for the
work costs from fifty cents up to any price, accord-
ing to the scale on which the pupil wishes to work.
Any hardware dealer will procure a complete out-
fit, and there are now so many books of instruc-
tion and of patterns for the work, that it is hardly
necessary for me to explain it more in detail. In
a few words, it consists in taking two pieces of very
thin board, of different colors, fastening the two
together, drawing a pattern on a piece of paper,
gumming it on to one surface, and then sawing the
two out. Of course, if it be neatly done, one piece
will fit into the other. Thus, if one be black and the
other white, the black pattern will fit into the white
ground, and the white pattern into theblack ground.
The third kind of marquetry is made with
veneers, which are sheets of wood almost as thin
as paper, and as the process of making it is rather
difficult for amateurs, I shall not describe it here.
But there is a fourth, and far easier process,

called Venetian Marquetry, which has never, to
my knowledge, been fully noticed in print; though
it is so obvious a method that I dare say many have
used it. Much of the old marquetry was made of
white wood stained with dyes. Venetian Marque:-
ry is a very perfect imitation of this, not to be dis-
tinguished from the sawed-out patterns. It is mad.
as follows:
Take a thin panel, or board, of holly or any other
nice white or light-yellow wood. Pine may b.
used when no other can be had, though it is, from
its softness, the worst for the purpose. Draw :
pattern on it. This may be done by tracing. Then
with a knife-wheel, mark out in the wood the en-
tire outline of your pattern, cutting in to the depth
of at least one tenth of an inch. (A knife-whecl
is like a pattern-wheel; that is, it is a little disk.
or flat wheel, not larger than a three-cent piece,
set in a handle; but the edge of a pattern-whel-
is like the rowel of a spur, in sharp points, whilu
that of the knife-wheel, or cutting-wheel, is thin
and sharp. It must be very strongly made.)
Use the utmost care in marking out your par-
tern with the wheel. If there are corners ton
sharp to turn with the wheel, mark them vith
a thin penknife. In fact, if you can not obtain a
wheel, the whole may be done with penknife. Thi:
wheel simply makes a more even, continuous line.

and is more convenient to use. When the partial
division of the pieces is effected, paint the ..
with the dyes made for wood. Care should be taken
to apply these very thinly indeed, in small .1 '
to let them dry thoroughly, and then to renew them.
Warping may be prevented by carefully dampen-



ing the back of the panel, by screwing down the most vigorous effects with few colors and large easy
wood, or by keeping it pressed down by a weight patterns.


while drying. i'::'.. the best way in most cases
is to fasten strips across the back.
Great pains must be taken to prevent the dyes
flcm -- .: _- beyond the outlines. The only dif-
farence between this Venetian work and savred-out
.i. n_- in this, that the pieces of wood are not
-.- .. .-.l Thatisall. VTi : .... would
be real inlaid marquetry. As dyes were very ex-
tensively used to color much of the finest old work.
: will be admitted that the chief difference betwie'n
his method and that in which all the pieces are
fret-sawn, is that this is by far the easier. Fret-
sawving of taro or three veneers is, for a young am-
a;eur, much more difficult than marking out and
Jreing a pattern. And it is a very important con-
sideration that this beautiful art or method mar
'e employed where a variety of woods and tood l
-ire not available. There are few places where two
r three cheap dyes for wood., a piece of white
cod, and a thin r -1L- can not be obtained
.. even common ink thinned with water w-ill
:ake a slate-colored dye, while several coats vwil
rtain wood jet-black. i'-~ -tri the dyed surftue is
v-ere dry, rub it off carefully with oftu paper, rene.
the ink, let it drn, rub off the surface again and
thien .1." Umber in coffee wrlin makeabrown dynt.
rt bet st of all are he dyes sold for the purpose.
S... -,i .. or fine l -- .. by the ..-.: may
'- :.11" closed warith any kind of tiler. A g, d
one may be e made by vry '1" m niing fine
varnish and 1i. .- .- r .""r _. ; mber
or any other coloring matter.
A .1 i- -i r in much of the old inarquietr was
the same IaIt that the T f.. found ian the
autununal landscape in America, wiem ihe aiid, I.t
is very r .I to be sure, but don't oiiithink it *s
a trifle [ The old artists in woaad i sad as
rmany colors a they c- ld get I.7.: arnd aiiM-
tiurs aand beginners greatly iidiie to thi,- Buz-t aN
artist in decorative wa-ork caanm proidrce the -tibest amdl

good v-ork may be made tb. Cultltdia wi'ayi
the wood here and theme, ard intrad-il g' sF a
stances which can not hb ~mriatedr s-eh as iiTrson
or tortoise- metal, jet, oir aitadi-x:teaa.
-, i round, ". [. Sr square ,. ge'ie So
the -whole an appearance of inlaiiang
Venetian, 'oF .i. marquetrC may I; i
with the aid of to hge srf sclh
the panels of doors, and id dladls
There are few arts, i mindl in w ith isoi gn4dl

,oak S

eit,ffe' amsi he *" '1 ':]", iltlt'tlenatA
little epespeua aiv sii E\an;B tIa-t- withlsa anwsalhkl
sio itieigiixsadlanr axil,,' 1 i1
Fiapile 1 ii attttracrA& goiltps IiexIst atd
k Bo ea ema% *or i 11iM . ,
it: ; I. ,i I .'e tt einrti aT :.l, oirtUT I,
oT _vd. Ain ireS cEa 1 tai v) t) io ifsl alt afr ai fLaw

E tail, IAi ;a i uisa cixt dl c olBgl R
The -ra7iTn, sc atlie l t xi btl mst -inty juti s


each. The lines of leaves and flowers, and a hun-
dred other details, look best in marquetry when
they are executed in this manner. I have just been
examining a piece of marquetry two hundred and
fifty years old. The inlaying is the best of the
work, and most of it is done in lines so as to give
it the appearance of a colored engraving.
The work, when finished, may be rubbed' down
and oiled and polished. Or it can be varnished.
Mastic varnish is best for this purpose, but it is the
most difficult of all kinds to apply evenly.
There is still another kind of
inlaying which is not included
in the foregoing paper. To O
make it, take a board of hard ..
wood, well seasoned, and lay on
it a coat of thick varnish. Take
the sawed-out pieces, which
should be of the thinnest tor- '
toise-shell, ivory or wood, and "'-
dispose them on the board. C
When the first varnish is dry,
lay on, for a ground, varnish
very much thickened with flour
or color. When this is dry, A SUGGESTION FO
repeat it; and so on, until the
ground thus made is as high as the pattern.
When inlaying is done with pieces of stone, it is
called mosaic. It will be observed that in making
solid marquetry, all the difficulty is limited to
marking out a pattern on a smooth piece of hard
white wood, and then tracing it carefully with the
point of a penknife or with a cutting-wheel. The
whole work is not much harder than cutting out a
picture with the point of a penknife. The dye is
more apt to spread evenly if, in applying it, you
first give the surface a thin wash of water.
It should be remembered that where two lines are
run together in parallels, as for instance, in long
stems, the wood lying between is very apt to break
off. This can only be prevented by using the point
of a thin penknife-blade or a very small wheel,

with very great care. For some work a wheel the
third of an inch diameter should be used. In
cases where the design is very delicate, the line
need be merely scratched into the wood. Any
indenting which will restrain the flow of the dyes,


and indicate a distinct outline is sufficient. Grejt
attention should be paid to this. Do not expect to
make a perfect piece of marquetry at a first effoil.
There is a piece of Venetian marquetry in the
South Kensington Museum, London, which wa
presented by the last Doge of Venice to Sir Rich-
ard Worsely. It last came from Apeldoorcombe,
in the Isle of Wight. It is at present the properly
of Sir Thomas Winter. The Court Journal said
of it, that even Her Majesty the Queen has nit
so fine a piece of furniture in all Windsor Castle.
Its date is 1602. My attention was directed to it
by a London merchant who deals solely in mar-
quetry. And by this the reader may learn that
Venetian marquetry is really capable of producing
great artistic results.






I \


W you 5oinib *ny JTea bktti maid
.u ti, S~ iool o'fin- art Iasw tshl t
71 r k f l. bow to 10 l'af on China, andtiss -SLA k
-!L ) J -, And s5An, s54, lirin ani brass WIr= ;
-' ~ t ad ~ cn mt-11 attic k Ll
~i ~II mrhanan tots, Lnd belh ~ir in

d ok of IiAP. and IVto I itlt rarcK,

A H 'it i i' i I I 1 1 I

ludr,, mi K

. I Jj1Yr' T



. F-~- -



!Coo @RifDPaY


"A LESSON in Geography,
With all the States to bound "
My boys grew sober in a trice,
And shook their heads and frowned,-
And this was in the nursery,
Where only smiles are found.

Then suddenly up jumped Boy Blue,-
Youngest of all is he,-
And stood erect beside my chair.
"Mamma," he said, bound me "
And all the other lads looked up
With faces full of glee.

i .r -i. c I... [ L.:hcl h ,: 1L. h, ,L I .
I r r _,i- i I-lri.r I, p.- 'i i

T r ': a r ''i c ir, r! r i ii t il '[ in etic,'
\ l i-,, i t r( r 'I[ '.-. : i It h '
,. h ttC. lI

_.-Liti.. i_ t '. ,i t -- [. ,. :,.- r : feet
T i, r L t: I 1 I ,'"I 1I I

I E i l I. ,. .,1 i
On others' errands willingly,
In most obliging way.

" East, by a pocket stuffed and crammed
With, oh so many things !
With tops and toys and bits of wood,
And pennies, knives, and strings,
And by a little fist that lacks
The glow that water brings.

' West by the same; and well explored
The pocket by the fist.
The capital, two rosy lips
All ready to be kissed.
And,- darling, now I 've bounded you;
The class may be dismissed."




(A Nonsense Rhyme.)


WHEN the Mother Goose cow jumped over the moon,
And the little dog laughed to see,
The horse hurrahed and tossed up his hat,
And whistled an air, did he."
The camel danced the Highland fling,
And the elephant put on skates,
While the cat went into the butcher trade
And charged the highest rates.
The mackerel rode a circus colt;
The whale leaped over the trees;
While the catfish rode on a bicycle,
That ran itself with ease.
The tiger went to bed in his boots;
The lion shot at a mark;
The eagle banged his hair in front,
And offered himself to a park.
The horned owl laughed till he almost cried,
Then cried till his eyes were dim;
But the wisest of all was a wise old hen
Who taught herself to swim.


g .- i
-', "* L' .


house, and it will be a joy to see the bright pro-

cession that will go marching by my meadow ever

morning, the girls chatting and humming in the
.". : .s.r' O -- .. ,,


WELL, mwy hearers, how do I find you this time ?
Getting ready for school, do you say? Ah, of
course! Your Jack knows all about it. The
season will soon begin at the little red school-
house and it will be a joy to see the bright pro-
cession that will go marching by my meadow every
morning, the girls chatting and humming in the
cheeriest way, and the boys all whistling gayly-
whether just for the fun of it or to keep up their
courage, I '11 not attempt to say. And the dear
Little School-ma'am-bless her!--she'11 be in a
perfect glow of delight !
It seems to me that the very walls of the school-
houses ought to throb with pride over the wise
young heads and the clear, happy voices that
will soon make them echo with sounds of busy work
and play. And so success to you all, my dears,
throughout the whole term !


IT'S no longer "Up with the Lark," I hear, for
that oft-praised bird gets up, it seems, altogether
too late. An enthusiastic naturalist has amused him-
self by investigating the question at what hour in
summer the commonest small birds wake up and
sing. He says:-The greenfinch is the earliest
riser, as it pipes as early as half-past one in the
morning. At about half-past two the blackcap
begins, and the quail apparently wakes up half
an hour later. It is nearly four o'clock, and the
sun is well above the horizon before the real song-
ster appears in the person of the blackbird. He
is heard half an hour before the thrush, and the
chirp of the robin begins about the same length
of time before that of the wren. Finally the
house sparrow and the tomtit occupy the last place

on the list. This investigation has altogether
ruined the lark's reputation for early rising. That
celebrated bird is quite a sluggard, as it does
not rise till long after chaffinches, linnets, and a
number of hedgerow birds have been up and about
for some time.
But hold There's such a thing as overdoing a
good habit. Some of these birds seem to have
lost their reckoning. There 's the greenfinch, for
instance-the idea of getting up at the ridiculous
hour of half-past one in the morning If he keeps
on, he '11 soon have to begin each day on the day
before.! No, no Such early risers as he are not
to be imitated. So we may have to go back to the
lark after all. Or there's the tom-tit. He's a con-
tented, sensible little fellow, and gets up at just
the right time, I should say. Yes, let it be Up
with the tom-tit! What say you, my dears?


DEAR JACK: I have been long acquainted with you and Si.
NICHOLAS. I live about two miles from Austin, the capital city of
Texas. Birds of all kinds found in Texas may be seen about the
place at proper seasons. Mocking-birds build their nests in the trees
within a few yards, or steps, of the house. Last July, two younu
mocking-birds were taken from a nest of five. The two young mock-
ing-birds taken from the nest were placed carefully in a large-sizei
cage, and the cage was suspended from a hook at the side of thi
front hall-door. The young birds were constantly and regularly fed
for two weeks, night and morning, by both parent-birds, who ho\
ered about the young ones during the day singing and frisking, an,
upon numerous occasions fighting off objectionable intruders anm
making great fluttering and noisy remonstrance when cats, dogS
or chickens appeared beneath the cage.
At the end of two weeks, the young mocking-birds then beinm
about able to fly, the cage was taken inside the hall-way, and there
hung, covered with a mosquito-bar, to protect the little prisoner,
from stinging insects.
In the hall-way, the old birds could not reach the young to feei
them, but they would fly in and through the house; this they did for
several days, and then, apparently, they abandoned our locality and
their young altogether. As we thought the old birds would not re-
turn, we again placed the cage outside the house, in its first position,
but on one occasion we failed to entirely cover the cage with the mos-
quito-bar; and that very evening, at the usual feeding-time, about
dusk, both old birds were seen, for the first time since their depar-
ture. Each bird had food or poison in its beak, and each was seen
feeding it to the young birds; and then they flew away and did not
return. Not suspecting any danger to the young birds, we allowed
the cage to remain in the same place all night.
Next morning early, we found one young bird dead in the cage,
and the other barely alive, reeling and dazed as if under the influ-
ence of a poisonous weed or narcotic. Within a few hours, it too
was dead. I am sorry that I lost two very beautiful birds; and I
think the parent-birds poisoned the young captives, as the old birds
were not seen by us again. Shall not the verdict be guilty" in-
stead of not guilty" ? Decide the question, Dear Jack.
Yours truly, LOUISE A- .

No, thank you You can't persuade me to be
the judge in such a case. For if I should under-
take to decide the question of guilt, I 'd be sure to
point out the fact that in every instance the poi-
soned birds were in cages, not in nests. And then
you wise human folk would be sure to say that that
was n't a fair way of stating the case, or that I was
prejudiced. And perhaps I am. I 'm neither a



bird nor a human being, you see; I'm only Jack-
in-the-Pulpit. So settle this matter for yourselves.

DEAR JACK: The alligator is not in any way an attractive animal.
On the contrary, it is about as repellant in looks and disposition as
any living creature very well can be. And yet in one respect, at least,
it is to be envied: It can go through life without ever needing a den-
tist, unless it be to eat him; for it never keeps its teeth long enough
to give them any chance to decay or ache or get out of order in any
way. When an alligator's tooth is worn out or broken or in need
of any kind of repair, it drops out, and, behold a new one is ready
to take its place. But I hardly need say that the alligator's teeth
are ajoy only to itself
Another peculiarity of the alligator is its ability to sleep. Like
other reptiles, it is so cold-blooded that it likes warmth and hates
cold. It needs water, too, and as the dry season and the cool season
come on together in Florida, there is a double reason why
the Florida alligator should go into

the mud after the manner of its kind
and settles down for a long nap.
-\ ^? Sometimes it happens that grass and
quick- grow-
ing shrubs
-" ""' *' k\/~/ spring up on
Sthe back of
''- this torpid
s animal. As
a rule these
-- t or washed off
when, with
a the first warm
rains, the alli-
ff gator rouses

. ,, -.

They never suspected the nature of the island until they had
bumped their boat rather rudely into it once or twice, and so vexed
the alligator that it opened its huge mouth with a startling sudden-
ness that brought a chorus of yells from the nest-robbers, and sent
them off in a fit mood to sympathize with the plover, which was flut-
tering about and crying piteously at the raid upon its nest.
The poor bird was doomed to lose its nest, however, for the alli-
gator, having at last been thoroughly roused, discovered how hungry
it was, and dived down in search of food, thus washing off island,
nest and all. Yours very truly, JOHN R. CORKELL.


DEAR, dear Here 's a startling list of accusa-
tions If any of you young wise-acres have made
up your minds to write a dictionary when you
grow up, here 's a warning for you! Is it possible
that there are so many things in the world that
have been wrongly named? Just listen to this
letter from my friend, M. E. L.

DEAR JACK: It is odd how names mislead.
The calla lily is a calla, not a lily. The tuberose
is not a rose at all. The strawberry and the black-
berry are not berries. German silver came not from
Germany, any more than did the Turkish bath from
Turkey. French calf and Russian leather are
both American. There is no wax in sealing-wax,
and not a bit of bone in all the whalebone in the
world. China-ware is made in our own country.
Pinks are not all pink. Not every one called
Black is a colored person; and how very many
are called Wise who are not!
Yours truly, M. E. L.

... ,,J-&

hHO CAN AN 'f,l Eh THIS -

'" li .\ .. L rip -,,- title
5' h p'/t.\ 'i 1..- i, I i ..r i lhy

-,I, r [|-, 5'.jI ,-' in ,- t: i 'r.: this

diary, which has puzzled me:
itself and makes for the water; but occasionally, for some reason, the R. at tea. He gave us the following verse for finding on what
mud clings and with it the plant growth, so that when the half-awak- day of the week the first of any month falls:
ened creature slides into the water and floats stupidly off, it looks
like a floating island, 'At Dover dwells George Brown, Esquire,
In one such instance, a plover was so deceived as to build its nest Good Christopher Finch and Daniel Frier.'"
in the plant-growth on the alligator's back. The living island so Now, can you, Dear Jack, or can some of your
freighted floated slowly down the stream until it was noticed by a wise friends tell me how to discover on what day of
party of boys who were out fishing. They saw the plover rise month falls by the ai of
from the little island, and suspecting a nest to be there, they gave this couplet? Yours truly, M, W
up their fishing and rowed out to it. this ? Yours truly M --


- r
-- r
---- ~-


IN many respects the characters of these two great naturalists
were alike,-and especially in their affectionate gentleness and
mercy. Although, in the interests of science, both were led to
destroy the lives of many animals, no men were more careful to
avoid needless slaughter and unnecessary pain. It was Audubon
who said, The msioment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had
been whe, in life, the pleasure arisingtfiom the possession of it be-
came blunted." This saying has become the motto of a large and
rapidly growing society, organized in 1886, and known as the Au-
DUBON SOCIETY, for the protection of birds. This society, recog-
nizing the increasing influence of the AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION, has
sent to us a special invitation to co-operate in its work. The circular
of the AUDUBON SOCIETY shows, first, the alarming rate at which
our birds are being exterminated. It gives a series of startling facts ;
for example, One New York firm had on hand, February i, 886,
200,000 skins," and it closes this paragraph as follows: "These
figures tell their own story; but it is a story which might be known
even without them; we may read it plainly enough in the silent
hedges, once vocal with the morning songs of birds, and in the de-
serted fields, where once bright plumage flashed in the sunlight."
The purpose of the Society is to prevent, as far as possible,
1. The killing of any wild bird not used for food.
2. The taking or destroying of the eggs or nests of any wild birds.
3. The wearing of the feathers of wild birds.
THE plan of work is very simple.
There are no expenses of any sort whatever. There are no condi-
tions of age. No formal organization is required. Each one can
join by agreeing to any one of the three following pledges :
PLEDGE No. i.-I pledge myself not to kill, wound, nor capture
any wild bird not used for food so long as I remain a member of the
Audubon Society; and I promise to discourage and prevent, so far
as I can, the killing, wounding or capture of birds by others.
PLEDGE NO. 2.- I pledge myself not to rob, destroy nor in any
way disturb or injure the nest or eggs of any wild bird so long as I
remain member of the Audubon Society; and I promise to dis-
courage and prevent, so far as I can, such injury by others.
PLEDGE NO. 3.-I pledge myself not to make use of the feathers
of any wild bird as ornaments of dress or household furniture, and by
every means in my power to discourage the use of feathers for dec-
orative purposes.
These pledges are not to be understood as hindering the signer
from taking such birds, eggs or nestsas he may require forscientiiic
purposes, but refer only to wanton or mercenary destruction and
robbery. Therefore no member of the AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION can
feel any hesitation about allying himself also with the AUDUBON SO-
CIETY. Boys and girls can often do more than others to protect
nesting birds.
WE are in the State Michoacan, the Garden State of the Repub-
lic, with thirty or forty thousand inhabitants. Itis a pleasant place to
live in; seven thousand feet above the sea; fine air, good water, and
very healthy. The corridors of the house are inhabited by a colony
of birds. The female looks like the female English sparrow. The
male has a scarlet breast and cap. The egg is robin-blue, with a
ring of black spots around the larger end. It is called the Gorriones.
The buzzard is very common here. On a trip we took, we saw the fine
Mocha coffee growing, and some of the cities could not be seen
on account of the banana plants which shade the coffee. Here we
have all the familiar wild flowers, and many strange ones. I belong
to an Ohio Chapter of the A. A.-G. A. Harriman.

WE hope to receive regular annual reports from all assemblies of
the A. A., as well as from the individual Chapters, and have the
pleasure this month, of giving the following from the Assembly
of Essex County, N. J. The first call for an Assembly meeting
was sent out by East Orange, R. Four Chapters only responded.

We decided to have five delegates from each Chapter. We have
meetings on the last Saturday evening of every other month, from
September to June; five meetings for the year. We have reports
of progress from the associate Chapters, papers by members, dis-
cussions of methods of work, and occasional addresses. We have
had many difficulties to contend with, but feel that our meetings
have been-pleasant and helpful, and should say from our experience
thus far, by all means encourage the formation of Assemblies.
Very sincerely yours, N. M. DORR.

CHAPTERS 112, 729, 760, and 820 of Boston, Mass., have united
for the purpose of forming a Boston Assembly.
All Chapters, in or near Boston, that would like to join, are invited
to address MR. THOMAS H. FAY, Sec. of Committee,
8 N. Grove street, Boston, Mass.


551, Clinton, Iowa. We have over three hundred specimens,
and a small library. We have been studying turtles, and have
noticed that the eye of a turtle shuts from the bottom. We now
intend to take up fishes, and as the Mississippi river is within one
block of our rooms, we shall not lack specimens. We have held thirty-
eight meetings, and cases of absence are rare.-Henry Towle, Sec.
567, Fort Meade, Florida.-Our Chapter of five, all of our own
family, left iowa, September 25, 1884. We came downthe Skunk
river to the Mississippi, thence to New Orleans, thence to Tampa,
and are now living nine miles southeast from Fort Meade. We left
Sigourney, Iowa, in the Ena, a Racine boat, eighteen feet long,,
forty-two inches beam, with water-tight compartments. We had
tent and camping outfit.which we carried in another boat. Our
party.consisted of the five members of the Chapter, and a baby, one
year old. We reached New Orleans Thursday, December 4, just
ten weeks from our time of starting. This includes stops at all the
principal towns. Our actual running time was 397 hours. Distance,
1812 miles; average, 4.53 miles per hour; least daily distance,
five miles; greatest, sixty-five. The first cotton was seen at New
Madrid, Mo.; the first cane, below Grady's Landing; first Spanish
moss, just below Greenville, Miss.
After being here a year, three of our number made another long
excursion. Tuesday, December x, 1885, we put our boat into Peace
creek, thence to Charlotte Harbor, up the Caloosahatchie, through
lakes Fliet and Hicapochee, into lake Okeechobee; across the
northern end of the lake, into the Kissimee river, up to Kissimee
lake, then up Tiger creek into Tiger lake, whence we walked thirty-
five miles home, making in the round, 700 miles, in six weeks. Once
we were over seven days without seeing a soul outside our own
party. One of our lady members claims the honor of being the first
white woman that ever crossed Okeechobee in a small boat. In all
these travels, we have never been disturbed by man or beast, and
have always been treated kindly. The Okeechobee trip was made
at an expense of twelve dollars for three of us. The trip down the
Mississippi cost about one dollar per day for the six. This, of course.
does not include cost of boats, tents, and equipage. We found it
a pleasant method of travel, and many of the A. A. might enjoy
something similar. My wife and two daughters made the trip, so
it is within the range of young lady members, if they have a taste
for such travels.-Irving Keck, Sec. "567."
568, Meadville, Pa. We number now only four, the others hav-
ing left college; but what we lack in number is made up in zeal.
We study nature with a great deal more care than when we first
formed a Chapter, and have spent some of our most enjoyable hours
in rambling though the woods.
We send greeting to the Chapters, and say, Long live the A. A.,
as one of the best schools in which any one can learn."--F. L. Arm-
strong, Sec.
574, Indianapolis, Ind. The future looks bright. We are all
interested, and, although very lately reorganized, we hope to grow
rapidly.- Tom Moore, Sec.




ALI our botanical friends will be interested in the following paper
on the curious fungi commonly called "puff-balls"; but I must
emphasize the words of caution given by Professor Trelease and
warn you not to eat any puff-balls whatever, until you have been
taught to distinguish the good from the poisonous, by a competent
botanist, with the actual specimens in his hand. So long as you
have the slightest doubt, remember the old test-" Eat one,- then
if you live, it was an edible mushroom; if you die, it was a poison-
ous fungus! Here is what Professor Trelease says:
I have been asked several times by the boys of the Agassiz Asso-
ciation to go with them on little collecting excursions, and I have
always found them much interested in toadstools, and other fungi.
From what I have seen on these and similar excursions, I have
been led to think that if given a little idea about some of these
plants a good many people would be glad to observe them more
One group of fungi in particular-the puff-balls-has a great
deal of interest for me. It is a very difficult group to study, and if
the sharp-eyed boys of the Agassiz Chapters all over the country
will be on the lookout for puff-balls this summer and fall, they can
be of assistance in some work that there is much need of doing
with these plants.
Every boy who lives in the country must have seen the giant
puff-ball (Lycoferdon bovista) that grows in pastures, looking like
a great white egg, sometimes nearly two feet high, set up on its
small end. It is not easy to see where these curious growths come
from, for they sometimes appear as large as one's fist, or larger, in the
morning, in places where there was nothing of the sort the night be-
fore. Then they often grow forseveral days, and finally turn brown
and break up into a dusty mass that at last blows away like smoke,
leaving nothing but a dried, torn remnant behind.
When one of these large puff-balls is seen, scrape the dirt away
carefully about it, and the secret of its appearance will be discovered;
for a mass of fine whi$e threads spread away from it in every direc-
tion. This spawn taZes the place of the roots of a tree, absorbing
food from the decaying leaf mold, or whatever there may be of the
same nature in the ground. All of its food is obtained in this way;
so that the delicate spawn-threads may spend a long time in feeding
and storing up food before they give any evidence of their existence.
But at last a puff-ball begins to grow; at first, very small, then
larger, but never very large, until a rain may give it the opportunity
to break through the sod, and then, swelling up rather than growing,
it suddenly makes its appearance.
While they are young, firm, and pure white, when cut open, these
large puff-balls are very good eating, sliced, seasoned well, and
fried in butter, and especially if dipped in egg and cracker crumbs.
But I must caution my readers to leave other fungi alone, even if
they think the specimens they find are mushrooms, for some of the
jaigi that loo; deal like Its/hroons I re era emr ely meison-
ous. Even.a iii.-`.1" soon .loses its value for food,.and .should
never be eaten after it becomes the least discolored, or offensive
in smell. When this change occurs, it seems as if the plant was
rapidly going to decay ; but this is not the case,- it is simply ripe-
ning. For a puff-ball is nothing more nor less than the fruit of the
underground mycelium, or spawn; and the dusty mass that it dries
into is composed of myriads of spores, which take the place of the
seeds of flowering plants. How many puff-balls there would be if
every one of these microscopic spores developed In a puff-ball
sixteen inches in diameter, if they occupy only one-third of the
space, there are no less than 300,ooo,ooo,ooooo,oo0 spores,--an
inconceivable number. I do not know why it is, but these spores
do not germinate readily, and very few of them produce other
plants. Perhaps it is quite as well, as, if they all grew, there would
be room for no other kind of vegetation.
Anothervery good edible puff-ball is the little lead-colored specie.
(Bovistf t pmtbea), about as large as a marble, that is very com-
mon in hilly pastures. When it is young and white, it is even more
delicious than t are pece te the large species. With these Ithink I should let
my bill-of-fare rest.
A few other common puff-balls are the exquisite earth-star:;
(Geaster), that are commonest in sandy places and under ever-
greens; the studded puff-ball (Lyco)terdon gemmatumn), very
abundant on the ground in woods; the fleecy white puff-ball (L.
iI. .ii : _.- .. paths in meadows; and the pear-shaped
I, Ill .d h found everywhere on old logs, in tufts
that are united by'firm white cords.
These plants will make an interesting addition to the cabinet of a
Chapter that will take the trouble to look for them and preserve
them properly. They ought to be gathered in two states,--just
before they open to discharge their spores, and when perfectly ripe.
They must not be handled so as to rub off the mealy or warty cover-
ing that some have, and should be carefully taken home in a basket
and laid in a good warm place to dry. Some of the larger species
soften and become so offensive when first beginning to ripen that
they may appear to be spoiled; but if put in an out-of-the-way
place, where they will annoy nobody, they usually come out all right.
When fully dry they should be laid in pasteboard trays or boxes,
properly labeled, and put into the cabinet.

I shall be very glad to name puff-balls for members of the
Agassiz Association as far as I can. Specimens sent for identifica-
tion must be dried, carefully wrapped in tissue-paper, and packed
with cotton or soft paper in a tin or wooden box, addressed to me
as below. Each specimen sent should be marked with a number
corresponding to that of the duplicate kept for the Chapter cabinet,
so that my names may be given with reference to the numbers. If
any specimens are to be returned, this should be indicated in the
letter accompanying them, and the proper amount of return postage
Shaw School of Botany, St. Louis, Mo.



i t'

3 *. '- [

- .. : .. i


5 -,

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Frogs' Eggs. I think I can tell Mrs. N. B. Jones (see April
number) what her "jelly-like mass" was. Last spring our boys
brought home similar masses, some globular, some in strings. We
put them in water in a sunny place. In less than a week we had
tiny tadpoles swimming about. Unfortunately the curiosity con-
cerning them was so great that they were continually lifted from the
water, and after a few weeks all died. We thought the eggs
must have been frogs' eggs, but we had two or three varieties. I
hope to' epeat the experiment, and continue it long enough to see
exactly what animal will develop.- Mrs. J. C. Kinear, Sec. Ch. 598.
.lfocking-bird. One or two subscribers have stated through
"Jack-in-the-Pulpit," that the mocking-bird, (minlns polyglottus)
is not guilty of poisoning its young; but I have positively seen it
done. The birds will feed their young for a while and when they
find that it is impossible to get at them through the wires of the
cage, they bring a poisonous red berry, which the young eat. I can
furnish the signatures o of si or eight persons who have seen this
with their own eyes.- P. L. Benedict, Sec. 331.
[This establishes the fact hart mocking-birds have brought ber-
ries believed to be oisonous, to their young. But it is unsafe, as I
have before shown, to infer the bird'os motives from its acts. We
can not know that the bird changed the diet of its young because
it could not get at tahem," nor do iue know that it knew tle deadly
lnatire of the berries. A jury could not convict of murderr]
Devil-fish.-And Ostriches. Last summer we saw a devil-fish of
the ray family, genus Cephaloptcra. It had something like great
wings on its sides. These were called pectorals. From tip to tip
across these it \ as sixteen feet, four inches, and from head tojunction
of tail, eight feet six inches. Its tail was about two feet long, and
not more than an inch in thickness. A flour-barrel was put in its
We had also, fortunately, an opportunity of seeing thirty-six live
ostriches. They belonged to Dr. Sketcherly, who bought them in
Port Natal, and was taking them to his ostrich farm in Los Angeles.
California. We noticed that the males were all black, with white
tail and wing-feathers, and pink bills; while the females were gray,
with white tail and wings like the males, and black bills, which were
triangular, with one end rounded off, and not duck-bill shaped, as I
have read. Their legs resemble those of a horse, only they have two
toes. Their eyes were large, dark, and mild. Two males were said to
be very dangerous. A whole turnip was picked up and swallowed by
one of them, and it was quite surprising to see it gradually turning
from the front of his neck around to the back portion of it, and
finally disappear suddenly into his back between the wings, where


the craw was said to be situated. Five natives were in attendance. who might otherwise have occasion to think this Chapter negligent,
Their features were regular, and their complexion dark brown; the reason we can not answer them, unless they will have the kind-
they had straight, black hair. One of them spoke English.- Mrs. ness to write again.- C. M. Cady.
E. E. Walden, Galveston, Texas. Every member ofthe A. A. will regret
Buttercups. I have noticed that buttercups often make a mistake /tat befell Mr. Cady in the burning of his
and grow six petals, instead of five.-- C. members who had written totle Jafan Chapterwillnowu writeagran.
[Such variations are common. I have seen trilliums with four
parts throughout; Houstonias, with five and six divisions; and EXCHANGES.
Hefaticas completely double, like tiny roses.] EVERY collector is invited to send for my exchange list.-S. 0.
Bees. A simple remedy for honey thieves. A gentleman who Pindar, Hickman, Ky.
owns a bee farm discovered a large swarm of bees stealing honey I wish to correspond with all Chapters intending to raise silk-worms
from one of his smallest hives. The latter, because of their inferior next year.-Chas. A. Jenkins, Sec. Ch. 447, Chittenango, N. Y.
numbers, were unable to protect their stores, and he tried various Mr. L. L. Goodwin, Daisy, Tenn., will exchange fragments of
methods to aid them. ancient pottery, arrow-heads, stone axes, and tomahawks -genuine
One day, at the suggestion of a friend, he laid a branch of aspar- and scarce; write first. 1 specially desire a large star-fish, entire
agus before the entrance, completely concealing it from the eyes of the jaws of a shark, a large lobster, and jaws and teeth of sea-fishes.
marauding bees, which flew wildly around, searching in vain for the
opening, while the occupants of the hive, having made their exit CHAPTERS, NEW AND REORGANIZED.
through the asparagus, knew what lay behind it, and afterward stored
their honey unmolested.-Agnes Lydon, Sec Milwaukee ChapterE. No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
972 Anadarko, Ind. Ter. (A) .......Charley A. Reynolds.
MINUTES OF A GOOD MEETING. 234 New York, N. Y. (G) ..... 4..Miss Isabella Roelker,
ETGcalled to no. At. F r 237 W. 5Ist Street.
"MEETING called toorderatL r. t. Forthebenefitofnewmem- 63 East Dennis, Mass. (A) ... 20..Harry E. Sears.
bers, an explanation of the organization of the Chapter (No. 331) 535 Hallowell, Maine (A) ...... 4..Miss M. Lillian Hopkins.
was given, also of the origin of the A. A. The hand-book of the A. 40 Sauquoit, N. Y. (A) ...... 12..Miss H. Josephine Campbell.
A. was then reviewed, each topic taken up and explained, portions 156 Peoria, Ill. (A)............ 5..W. T. Van Buskirk,
of the constitution, by-laws, etc., being read. Next came the re- iiz Penn. Ave.
port of the secretary. Next, that of the treasurer. The question, 973 Ludington, Mich. (B)..... 3..Miss Emma Gaudette.
'Ought the English sparrow in this country to be considered an 590 New York, N. Y. (P)...... 4. .Miss Cecilia A. Francis,
American bird?' was decided in the affirmative. Then came the 54 W. 8th Street
election of new members. Three were elected. The revised copy 974 Richmond, Va. (C) ....... 4..Miss Rebekah N. Wood-
of by-laws was then signed by all present. Secretary then read ex- bridge, 8 E. Franklin St.
tracts from the A. A. columns of ST. NICHOLAs, and explained about 193 Providence, R. I. (A) ...... 5. Harry I. Griffin,
'centuries.' lie also read from the reports of other Chapters. A ino Carpenter Street.
motion was then made that some one member bring in at each 250 Houghton, Mich. (A)......36..Morton C. Getchell.
meeting an essay. Secretary then read annual report to be sent to t6 Kerr City, Florida (A) ..... 6..Miss Elima Hammond.
Lenox. Approved. The next step was the paying of initiation 165 Norwalk, Ct. (A).......... 6.. Mr. A.'Quintard.
fees by the new members. The treasurer was authorized to send to 705 Philadelphia, Pa. (Y) ......-..Miss Edith Earpe,
Lenox for a 'charter.' The questions in ornithology in December 64 N. 43d Street.
ST. NICHOLAS, and the answers to same in March number, by Percy 723 Hopkinton, Mass. (A)..... Geo. W. Chandler.
L. Benedict, Sec. 331, were read by the Vice-President. Next came 841 Montclair, N. J. (B)....... 4..Mr. Wm. Hollins, Box 277.
a chemical experiment on the nature of flame,- the three cones,
luminous, semi-luminous, non-luminous. A bent glass tube was DISSOLVED.
thrust into the non-luminous cone and lighted at the other end,- a
proof that the gas around the wick was not ignited." 458 Haverhill, Mass ...............F. H. Chase.
Question for next meeting, "Which is the most useful animal? 620 Manlius, N. Y................. Geo. C. Beebe.
Meeting adjourned at 2.50 p. ah.- Percy L. Benedict, Secretary. 930 San Francisco, Cal ............H. H. Loy.
I was unfortunate enough, last March, to have all my letters, letter- NO .
book,,hand'books, and other matter relating to the A: A. as secretary SECRETARIES of Chapters 701-800 are requested to send in their
of Chapter 789, burn, together with everything elsein my house, and reports as near Sept. ao as possible.
the house itself. I have thus lost the addresses of some persons who All are invited to join the Association.
had written to this Chapter. I mention this only to explain to those Address all communications for this Department to


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the I5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first letter I have ever written
you. I like your stories very much; the best one of this year, I think,
is Little Lord Fauntleroy." Only I did not like to have the new
Lord Fauntleroy coming in to take his place. I hope Mrs. Burnett
will have the Earl buy the new Lord Fauntleroy out.
Your interested reader, MARY G-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are an English family with big and
little members in it. Whenever ST. NICHOLAS comes there is
a great rush for it. We think it much better than any of our Eng-
lish magazines. We live near the Suspension Bridge, which is 254
feet above the river. Our horses eat sugar, apples, and salt out of
our hands. One is called Howard, the other, Chester. We hardly
ever get any ice here, and very little snow. We think that Little
Lord Fauntleroy" is a real good story; it is very like English life.
We enjoy the letters from the little American boys and girls very

much. Please print this letter, as it comes a long way from Eng-
land. I am abig member writing for the rest of our family.
Always your faithful readers, THE SPARKE FAMILY.

B: The story you name is founded on an actual tricycle journey
by a group of friends.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letters from Omaha,
in your delightful pages, so I think I must write, and hope you will
print this letter. My mother and I think that Little Lord Faun-
tleroy" is the most beautiful story we have ever read, and.we have
persuaded my father to read it, and he enjoyed it as much as we.
My mother thinks Cedric will die before the end, but I hope not.
I do not go to school, but I take French lessons of such a jolly little
American Mademoiselle Would it not be fun for a certain number
of boy and girl readers of ST. NICHOLAS to send a list of five or ten
of their favorite books and the authors' names to you, and be
printed! I hope this letter is not too long to print.
Your loving friend, MENIE C. W-



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to get a letter
from New Zealand, as I don't think you have had one from such a
long way. We have had your magazine for two years, and we all
like you very much and look forward to getting you from the book-
sellers every month; and I am afraid we sometimes squabble over it,
as we are three children and we all want it at once. T, ,
eldest sister, generally gets it first because she can cut I
have a nice pony, and we call him Joe, or Joseph, because he is
a piebald and has a coat of many colors. The rabbits are so bad in
New Zealand that we have to keep ferrets to kill them. Father has
a station, or sheep-run, with 28,000 sheep, and we are afraid of the
rabbits overrunning it and eating up the grass, so father says I must
bring up all my young kittens to be turned out on the run to kill the
rabbits. We went to England when I was four, and I liked it very
much, and was so pleased to see Granny and the aunties; but, oh,
dear, the voyage made me so sick! Now, dear ST. NICHOLAS, I
hope you will f.nd room to put this in your magazine some day.

Your devoted reader,


Mv DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American girl, but I am
in Europe now, with my mother. We were in London the other day,
and I went to Madame Tussaud's wax-works. The figures are,
perhaps, better than those of the Eden Mus6e," but the likenesses
are simply miserable, especially Washington's, which resembles
" Bunthorne," in Patience "; and Lincoln, who was a much taller
man than the late General Grant, was represented as a much smaller
one. Your very loving PAQUERELLE.

DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first time I have ever
written to you, although I have taken you for thirteen years,- ever
since you were published,--and have quite often thought of doing
it. I am only a New York girl, and can not write you about lovely
scenery and stirring events like the girls and boys who live at a dis-
tance, but can only say again and again how dearly I love you, and
how eagerly I look for you every month.
I have enjoyed the series From Bach to Wagner so much, as
I am very fond of music and take violin lessons. I like Little
Lord Fauntleroy" better than any story you have had in a long
time,- but Mrs. Burnett is always delightful,--and it makes it so
nice to have it illustrated by Mr. Birch, whose drawings I admire
greatly. I hope you will not find this letter too long to print or
consider me too old to be one of your admirers, as I am not yet
seventeen. I do not belong to the A. A., much to my regret. I
used to be a member of the Town and Country Club," but had to
give it up for want of time. Good-bye, dear ST. NICK, and believe
me, Affectionately yours, AMETHYST.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have been taking you for nearly three
years, and think you are very nice. I think "Little Lord Faun-
tleroy" and the Brownies are splendid. I like to read the Letter-
Box. I am eight years old and have lived in Portland nearly five
years; and I go to see my grandpa in the East sometimes. I have
crossed the continent five times, and, my Mamma says, have spent
about five weeks of my life in a sleeping-car.
Yours truly, LOUISE K. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are very fond of you; we jump for
joy when you come each month. We have taken you for two years
in Buenos Ayres; now we are living in England, but in a little while
we are going to Geneva; but wherever we are, we hope to see you.
Our favorite stories are: "His One Fault," "Oh, Dear." "The
Brownies," "Little Lord Fauntleroy." Mother likes Personally
Conducted." This is the first letter we have written; we should
like to see it printed.
Your little friends, BELLA, WILLIE, AND MIDGE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old. I have a
little sister and a baby brother. My little sister Enid thinks the

"Brownies" going to the "surtus" is the best. I think "Little
Lord Fauntleroy" is very nice. We have a big mastiff dog named
Zippo. He weighs one hundred and forty pounds. He came from
England when he was eighteen months old He was raised by an
earl. Perhaps it was Little Lord Fauntleroy's grandfather. 1 hope
you will print this in your Letter-Box.
Your constant reader, BESSIE C

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : We have neither of us ever written to you
before, but now we want to tell you something. We were seated at
our desks in school, when the door opened and the principal entered,
followed by four great Indians. None but the interpreter could
speak English. They were dressed in citizens' clothes, so were not
so interesting as they might have been. The next day several of us
sent our albums to them, and the interpreter wrote the names of each,
and then he whose name was signed, made his own cross under-
neath. Three of their names are:
"Young Prophet."
"Stiff Wing."
Young Bear."
Your devoted readers, En. AND ILITTIE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My age is twelve years, and I am so fond
of my mother; so I must tell you how much we are all pleased
with "Little Lord Fauntleroy" and his "Dearest" mother.
My father is an Englishman, but we live in this country ; we all
love the Queen, and we have a very high regard for the President
and this Government.
M\y father has been a great fisherman, and has fished in many
waters in this country; one time he caught a large pickerel, and
the boy that was rowing the boat had no shoes on, so when the large
fish was drawn in the boat it had its mouth wide open, and it slid to
the boy's foot and came near decapitating his big toe. Another time
he hooked a large rock fish, and it pulled him in the river, out of the
boat, and he came near drowning.
We all love the ST. NICHOLAS, for the many, many pretty stories
you give us. Now, "Dearest" No. 2, I will say good-bye.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am reading the story of "Little Lord
Fauntleroy," and I like it very much. I do not like the grandpa
very much ; yet I think when the grandpa sees Lord Fauntleroy's
mother, he will like her, and have her come up and live with them.
From your friend, L. C. B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I often thought I would like to send you
some of my poetry, and will inclose a piece that I composed last
September, while sailing my boat at Barnegat. I am eleven years
old, and have been writing poetry and stories for several years.
I would be so much pleased to see this letter and poem printed in
ST. NICHOLAS, and if you do not like this poetry I could send you
other pieces called "The Frisky Calf," "Blacksmith's Song,"
"Rivuletta," etc. Good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS.
Yours truly, ELLEN N. L.


SHIPS have gone down, and bags of gold,
And copper and silver and riches untold
Lie on the bottom of the fathomless deep,
Where so many souls have gone to sleep.

Ships have gone down with lively crews,
And there is no one to tell the sad news
About how many souls unwillingly sleep
On the bottom of the fathomless deep.

Lobsters and crabs and fishes all,
From the big whale down to the minnow small,
And porpoises frolic and jump and leap
In the waters of the fathomless deep.

The waves break with a rush and roar
Upon the sands, as they did of yore;
And often and often people weep
For the souls that have died in the fathomless deep.

Sailors sail on the ocean green,
And will continue to do so, I ween;
For they wont take warning from the souls that sleep
On the bottom of the fathomless deep.
BARNEGAT CITY, N. J., Sept. zi, 1885.

"A JEWEL" :-Your little story is very clever, as the work of
a girl of your age, and we should gladly print it in the Letter-Box if
there were space for it. But we are sorry to say that we can not pos-
sibly make room for the story in our already over-crowded columns.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am an American boy, living in Paris;
I do not like it much here. I have been to the Louvre several times
since I have been here, and the delightful "Stories of Art and Art-
ists" have a double interest, for when I go to the Louvre I can look
for the works of artists mentioned in those stories. I have seen the
picture of Mme. le Brun and her daughter there, and it is beautiful.
I have seen also a good many of David's. I am eleven years old,
and have two sisters and one brother, all younger than myself, and
we all wait for you with impatience. I have taken you now for three
years, and to part with you would be like parting with an old friend.
Little Lord Fauntleroy is the nicest next to Art and Artists,"
I think. I go to a school with over eleven hundred boys. I leave the
house at ten minutes of eight, in the morning, and I do not get home
until six at night.
I hope you will print this, as it is my first letter. Now, with much
love to you and the Little School-ma'am, I remain,
Yolr constant reader, J. H. T.

IN the article in our last number, entitled "A Royal Fish," the
author stated that in this country a salmon weighing fifty pounds
was considered a very large one. But a correspondent now sends
us the following item describing a salmon which weighed seventy-
two pounds. No salmon of this weight, however, has ever been
caught with a rod on the American side of the ocean. Here is the
"Crowds cf well-dressed people, men and women, went to Fulton
Market yesterday and looked at an enormous salmon which was on
exhibition. Mr. Blackford, to whom it belonged, had put a row of big
strawberries along its back and stuffed green moss into its capacious
mouth. The fish came from the Dalles, a noted fishing place on
the Columbia River, Oregon. It measured fifty-two inches from its
nose to the tip of its tail, was twelve inches broad, and weighed
seventy-two pounds. It was caught in a net."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much and most of all Sophie
Swett and Frank Stockton and Miss Alcott and Mary Mapes Dodge.
I am a little English girl, and I live in Hungary. We are going
away in the spring, and father has gone already.
Yourloving reader, KATHLEEN YOUNG.
DEAR ST. NIChOLAs: I feel I must add a few lines to my little
daughter's note, to tell you that, as she is suffering from spinal com-
plaint, she is obliged always to lie on her back; so to her-cut off
from so many of the pleasures of stronger children you are doubly
welcome. Indeed, we all are very partial to you; your magazine has
the distinction of being the most shabby book on our book-shelves.
In our home, as no doubt in hundreds of others, you are a house-
hold word. Kathleen begs you, if you have room, to print her letter.
With every good wish, very truly yours, MARIA YOUNG.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and have been taking
you for several years. I like you better than any other magazine.
I have a brother twenty-one months younger than I am, and we
look very much alike, and wear the same kind of clothes. He said
he had a dream the other night, which he thought was very funny.
He dreamed we were playing near the State Department, and a man
told him not to get on the grass or he would whip him. After a while
he dreamed that I came along and got on the grass, when the man
caught me and whipped me by mistake, thinking I was my brother.
He thought the dream was very funny, but I did not see the fun
in it. Yours affectionately, CHARLES C.

DEAR OLD SAINT : Although my brothers and I have taken you
for nearly ten years, this is the first letter I have written you.
I want to thank you for Mr. Stockton's valuable "Personally
Conducted" series, and also for Mr. Scudder's "George Wash-
ington." Mr. Stockton's Personally Conducted" makes me feel
as if I had visited the place he describes.
I am, and always shall be, an inte rested ader. FRED. J. S.

DEAR ST. NIcHoLAS: I have been your constant reader since I
was a very little girl, and you are still my favorite magazine,
although I read many others. Last summer I tried a string house,
but not as you described, for it is impossible to make morning-glo-
ries grow under a tree, as they need a great deal of sun. My house
was shaped like a tent, with sloping sides, and outside of the morn-
ing-glones I planted a border of nasturtiums, but although I began

it early, planted the seeds very thick, and took the greatest pains
with it, it did not succeed, and I don't think I shall try it again, as
the season here is probably too short. But I should advise any one
who intends making a string house not to make it under a tree, but
on a frame in the open ground. I think it is a great pity you don't
come more than once a month (and I am sure all the rest of your
readers will agree with me), I am so much interested in Mrs. Bur-
nett's "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I hope you will have another
paper on Historic Girls soon. I have no pets, as a great many
of your readers seem to have, except a very small aquarium, but
have in place of them three collections, which I have collected
almost entirely myself, and am much interested in. The first, and
most interesting to me, is one of birds' eggs, the second, moths,
insects, and butterflies, and, last but not least, a small collection of
minerals. I hope you will find room to print this, but I suppose
it is hard to choose among all the letters that must he sent to you.
Your constant reader, AMy R.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have neverwritten you a letter before, but
when I was looking over the letters in the ST. NICHOLAS (for which
1 have lately become a subscriber) I did n't see any letter from Hon-
olulu, so I thought I would write you one about the volcano in!
Hawaii, which you know is one of the Hawaiian Islands. Well.
about three weeks ago we heard that the bottom of the volcano had
fallen in. We were afraid that we would have some severe earthquakes
or, perhaps, a tidal wave; some thought the Islands might all sink,
,, .. ,1. >f the kind has occurred. Mr. S- a photographer,
-. r-.; ,... to see it; he had been let down by ropes, and was
standing on a ledge taking photographs of the crater. The volcano
was unusually active. He took the photographs, and just as he
was taking one he saw the whole thing cavingin. First the bottom
fell out and then the sides fell in, and down it all went, leaving
nothing but a bottomless hole. No sooner was he hauled up than
the ledge on which he had been standing fell in.
Yours truly, HENRY W.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have taken you for ten years. We stopped
for one year, and we could not do without you, so we have com-
menced again. I think "Little Lord Fauntleroy" is a beautiful!
story. I have never seen a letter from this,province before. I hope
to see my letter in print. Your constant reader, BESSIE G. T.

DEAR ST. NicUOLAS: I am a little boy from the South, and have
only gone to school a few months; but as my mamma says I must
some day be a Governor, and my grandma expects me to be a Presi-
dent, I will commence with ST. NICHOLAS. I will be satisfied if I
am ever as wise and good as was Mr. Paul Hayne, our poet, who
died last summer.
He had a splendid horse named Dick. Often, when he would ride
out in the woods to compose a poem, he would take me with him it
I would promise not to speak a word, and I know it was harder for
me not to speak than for him to write the poem. ALBERT A.

WE acknowledge with many thanks the receipt of pleasant letters
from the young friends whose names here follow: Raynor Brothers,
Eva Campbell, Emma C. Tate, Cara Sanford, Bessie Bradenbaugh,
L. C., May, Harry's Mother," Bessie L. Lake, Ernst C. Bern-
baum, Mary P. F., John Kelso, Annie Howard, Fawn Evans,
Willie C. Hardy, Millicent R., Alice D. Leigh, George B. Stratton,
Frank M. Crispin, Alfred B. Cushing, Flossie, Emily Innes, Reno
Blackstone, Mollie Orr, Lottie E. W., Violet A., Maudie Brown.
Florence H., Kitty Russell, M. S. R., Emma T., Eloise L. Derby,
A. J. S., Grace F. Schoff, Maude Jackson, Fanny H. Murdock,
Rosa R. A. & Rudie E. B., Genevieve D., Ettie Coombs, Roy
Strong, Bertha Parsons, Maud T., Olive S. Stewart, Pansy O'Don-
nell, "Katisha," Cora Hoyt, Elizabeth K. Stewart, First Ward
School, Charlotte Dennison, Dollie M. Brooks, Bessie Roberts,
Anna D. W., Charles P. Clark, M. E. R., Matty J., Florence A.,
Florence V. Thorpe, Roland Wilber, Gertie Doud, Nellie & Ninita.
Josie M. Merghau, A. B. Baylis, Jr., Audley & Ronald, Ella H. W.,
W. le has T., Emma Willcutt, Dot, Evan, & Brooks, S., Lucy
Hathaway, Lucy P. K., Kathleen, T. C., Constant Reader, Geral-
dine, Maud Elaine Caldwell, E. Parks, Amy H. Silvester, Winnie
Galloway, Henry J. Parsons, Tryphosa, Theodosia, Tryphena
Van -, E. C. N., Harry Armstrong, Charlie P. G., Beth M.,
Walter Bassett, W. L. Briscoe, Constance R., Nellie B. R., Emilie
K., Wennie B. Dorrance, 0. W. G., Dodey Smart, Mary & May.
Duncan Kilborn, Annie Russell Anthony, and Minnie R.







CHARADE. Keepsake.
OCTAGON. I. Dab. 2. Cecil. 3. Decolor. 4. Aconite. 5.
Bilious. 6. Lotus. 7. Res.
GREEK CROSS. I. I. Rate. 2. Aver. 3. Teas. 4. Erst.
II. i. Tore. 2. Omer. 3. Reps. 4. Erst. III. I. Erst. 2.
Rhea. 3. Seas. 4. Task. IV. Task. 2. Area. 3. Seat.
4. Kate. V. i. Task. 2. Anne. 3. Snap. 4. Kept.
INVERTED PYRAMIDS. I. Across: Oratory. 2. Erode. 3.
Toe. 4. L. II. Across: i. Masonic. 2. Sabot. 3. Mow. 4. E.
words: i. snowShoes. 2. dragOn-fly. 3. chiCken. 4. baRns.
5. bAt. 6. aTe. 7. reEls. 8. opoSsum.
EGYPTIAN PUZZLE. Centrals, Memnon. Cross-words: i. M.
2. gEm. 3. caMel. 4. oraNges. 5. crocOdile. 6. AlexaNdrian.
CUBE. From i to 2, imperial; a to 4, lanneret; to 4, lapidist;
I to 3, immortal; 5 to 6, schooner; 6 to 8, rounding; 7 to 8, hovel-
ing; 5 to 7, Shadrach; r to 5, Iris; 2 to 6, leer; 4 to 8, tang; 3 to
7, lash.

RIMLESS WHEELs. I. Andersen. From i to 9, Anne; 2 to o.
Nile; 3 to 9, dome; 4 to 9, Erie; 5 to, rise; 6 to size; 7to 9,
edge; 8 to nine. II. Farragut. From t to 9, face; 2 to 9,
able; 3 to 9, ripe; 4 to 9, rare; 5 to 9, acre; 6 to 9. gape; 7 to 9,
urge; 8 to 9, type.
DIAMOND. I. H. 2. Jib. 3. Judea. 4. Hidalgo.. Belle.
6. Age. 7. 0
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Herrick; finals, Shelley. Cross-
words: i. HardinesS. 2. EmbellisH. 3. RationalE. 4. RehearsaL.
5. IdenticaL. 6. CarmelitE. 7. KnowinglY.
BEHEADINGS. Salmagundi. i. S-ear. 2. A-rid. 3. L-inp.
4. M-ope. 5. A-mid. 6. G-lad. 7. U-rim. 8. N-ail. 9.
D-ram. xo. I-ago.
ZIGZAG. The Atlantic Cable Landed. Cross-words: i. True.
2. sHow. 3. glEe. 4. galA. 5. saTe. 6. sLap. 7. Atom. 8.
oNce. aTe. sem. raCe. 2. aChe. 13. A:id. 14.
aBle. 15. hiLl. j6. hirE. 17. haLe. x8. hAil. 19. Need. 2o.
iDea. 2r. stEw. 22. benD.

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. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co.,
33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 20, from Maud E. Palmer-Jo and I-- Maggie
T. Turrill- "B. L. Z. Bub, No. i "- Mamma and Fanny-" B. L. Z. Bub, No. 2"- Hazel -" San Anselmo Valley"-" Shumway Hen
and Chickens"- D. B. Shumway-M. Margaret and E. Muriel Grundy-Carrie Seaver and Alice M. Young-F. W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 2o, from hM. L. Bosher, i -Marion Strong, i-Grace
A. Zublin, 2-E. V. Sudell, i-Prince and Prancer, i-Paul Reese, 13-R. E. B., I-Jas. A. Bond, 2-Nellie L. Howes, 6--T and
Coffee, I Nanon and Ninon, :- H. R. H., i Robert Nead, 3- R. Earle Olwine, Helen W. Gardner, "Jack and Jill," 5 -
Effie K. Talboys, 7--M. Clare H. Guion, 4-Karl E. Sommer, 3 -"Silver-tongue," i--Alice Blackinton, C. F. Bishop, 3-
"Squid," s--" Dad," i -"The Reads," 3- Florence Althaus, 8- No name, Cleveland, a No name, Oakdale, 12 -" May and
79," 7-"Young Man," 6-" Tiger," 2--Laura and Irene, 7- E. M. B. and A. C. B., 2--Mamie R., 13-Lucia C. Bradley, a -
Nelle and Reggie, 00 H. Lovejoy, 9- Jack Sprat," 5- Kittle, Chessie, Avis, and Grace, 7- Geo. T. Hughes 2 Smed, 12 -
Helen Burnham, 2-- Patience, I--Arthur and Bertie Knox, 8 We, Us, & Co., 4-" Mohawk Valley," o- Pearl Colby and Nell
Bates, so Louise Joynes, 3- Daisy Van Ingen, Elise Ripley, Ripley, 7-Lucy M. Bradley, sI Fred T. Pierce, 4- Sadie and
Bessie Rhodes and De Grassy," 1o -" Original Puzzle Club," 12- Hattie Well, 2- Eleanor Peart, 4 Ida and Edith M. Swamwick 7-
"Two Cousins," 3 Lewis Kilborn, 2-Langham, 2 -Dash, Eugene Kell and Mamma, i.


UPPER PYRAMID. Across: i. In moping. 2. The cry of an ani-
mal. 3. Relish. 4. A horseman's cap. Downward: i. In mop-
ing. 2. To depart. 3. A small sweet-cake. 4. Elapsed. 5. Preyed
upon. 6. A conjunction. 7. In moping.
LOWER PYRAMID. Across: I. In moping. 2. A period. 3. To
pass through by filtering. 4. An old-fashioned Spanish ship.
Downward: i. In moping. 2. A musical syllable. 3. A kind of
fish. 4. Spoken. 5. A unit. 6. A call to excite attention. 7. In
Centrals, reading downward (eight letters), a bucolic.

MY first is in rise, but not in fall;
My second in entry, but not in hall;
My third is in give, but not in take;
My fourth is in pie, but not in cake;
My fifth is in gun, but not in toy;
My sixth is modest. but not in coy:
My whole is easily found, no doubt,-
'T is a thing the world would scarce run without.

i. If you will give me the broken seal, Pa can replace it, I am
sure. 2. It would certainly be a very good idea to do so, Ethel.
3. The little black cub is only waiting for a chance to bite you. 4.
I will not give her mine. 5. He gave them each a moist piece of

preserved ginger. 6. She did not encourage Nettie to pursue her
musical studies. 7. The parlor is already dusted, and ready for
our visitors. 8. How will a man, in his position, ever retrieve hin-
self? 9- I was there when Lem urged his claim so persistently.
o1. Did you ask if Pa could stop at the big grocery. a. Pa can
stop, I am sure. 12. I set out this shallow pan daily, for the birds.
13. At the sound of the familiar tap I ran to the window. 14. Did
you call Jack a lazy lad? PAUL R. PIERCE.
i. In alpaca. 2. Chance. 3. Pleasantry. 4. A thin fabric.
5. Studied with an abstracted gaze. 6. To clear. 7. In alpaca.
'i tDItUIS."

I. Upper Left-hand Square: i. A spring. 2. A nobleman.
3. Surface. 4. To contrive.
II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. A scheme. 2. A slender cord.
3. Small insects, . 1
III. Lower i ..i i.-. .. I. To devise. 2. Erudition.
3. Artifices. 4 l .... l
IV. Lower I ,i:r '. ..* .... A collection of boxes. 2. A
reverberation. 3. A pretense. 4. A small city. SAtM WELLER5.

My primals spell what every one is wishing for, and my finals
spell where it may come from.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length) : i. A bivalve shell-fish. 2. A
Russian feminine name. 3. To lend. 4. A prefix signifying half.
5. Destitution. 6. A part sung by a female voice. 7. A part of
speech. 8. A girl's name. "CDIPUS."



-- ..

I AMI composed of one hun-
dred and twenty-one letters, and '
form a four-line stanza by Celia Thaxter. -
My 30-87-70-58 isjoyous. My 45-20-75-17.-8-34 is a color. My 64-5-89-. -
of a bottle. My 67-49-82-11-9 is an apparition. My 102-25-77-118-107 i. -I r '. -
cottage. My 53-113-83-94-38 is an apartment in a ship. My 85-27-42-33- -
to deter. My 6o-I14-8o-i6-97-21-56-31-115-55 is the science of Egyptian ......r..
110-13-92 is part of a fish. My 40-91-120-105-99 is airy. My 62--51-69-29-103-o0-7-12 is
extraordinary. My 23-32-57-3-47 is to gather. My 79-65-14-96-43-2 is to loiter. My 116-36-
Io8-66-4-78 is to manifest. My 6-61-52-704 is to lash. My 74-o10-59-112-72-119-50-88 is abased. My 26-76-24-109 is a fierce ani-
mal. My 68-8r-63-28-7ry is to halt. My 48-41-z8-39-oo0 is strong. My 93-44-10-71 is to be incandescent. My 90-37-19-95 is to
draw or paint. My 11-35-2'-84 is secure. My so6-8-46-15 is to impede. "CORNELIA BLIMBER."


2 1 2
S3 1 '3
i 4 w 14

6 -6
7 7

S x8 2

CRoss-WORDS: I. A very small cake. 2. Having the quality of
imbibing. 3. Singular. 4. Those who have charge of money. 5. A
free gift. 6. Cleanses. 7. Personal satires. 8. Destitute of pores.
9. To punish. o0. Primitive.
The zigzag from I to so spells the name given to a certain day in
September; from 1x to 20, the name of a dish eaten in England on
that day. FRANK SELLING.

(I.) A kind of meat.
(2.) An odor sweet.
(3.) Struggled, strived, contended.
(4.) Last,.hut not least.
(5.) A Persian priest.
And now my rhyme is ended. KATASHAW."

S. A jump. 2. Pertaining to the pope. 3. A liphaving a fissure
like that of a hare. 4. To act. 5. Flattery. 6. A measure. 7.
By means of. L ROYAL TARR."

I. Behead to acknowledge with gratitude, and leave a bunch of
yarn. 2. Behead to frequent, and leave a relative. 3. Behead dis-
closes, and leave enclosures. 4. Behead a fine rain, and leave land
surrounded by water. 5. Behead askant, and leave oblique. 6. Be-
head a large wave or billow, and leave to incite. 7. Behead very
dark, and leave attenuated. 8. Behead to imbibe, and leave a place

of amusement. 9. Behead fanciful, and leave to distribute. 0o. Be-
head a subterraneous canal, and leave a pitcher. oi. Behead a
mountain nymph, and leave to peruse. 12. Behead the present
occasion, and leave formerly.
The beheaded letters will spell the name of an inventor.


You will find me in the orchard, where thepears and apples grow;
I 'm discovered in the clauses that the lawyers so well know;
I am found in every present that our loving friends bestow;
I am bound up in the caskets that will splendid jewels show;
I am seen within the patient who is sick of drugs and pills;
The planter carries me with him while riding o'er his hills;
'Mongst the letters of the ledgers I feel perfectly at home;
And from the muffins, sweet and fresh, I never wish to roam;
Thecair/cs hold me in their arms as through the air they fly;
And every scholar claimeth me as he at work will ply;
I take part in all the ballads that are sung by young and old
I am portion of the denizen who roams the forests bold;
In thickets I 'm not absent, as you all must plainly see;
And my whole comes in September, filling farmers full of glee.
c. D.



5 . 6

From i to 2, one of an ancient race of people; from i to 3, a frag-
ment; from 2 to 5, a small bird of the titmouse family; from i to 4,
a form of instruction by means of questions and answers; from 3 to
6, a snout or trunk; from 4 to 5, to coin; from 4 to 6, a collective
body: from 5 to 6, a structure of cross-barred work.



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