Front Cover
 In Christmas season, long ago
 The story of Prince Fairyfoot
 A fortunate opening
 How a great battle panorama is...
 Cricket songs
 The Bamberry boys
 The story of a squash
 A scheming old Santa Claus
 For children dear
 Juan and Juanita
 A Christmas conspiracy
 A nest in a pocket
 The magic buttons
 The galley cat
 Sir Pen's little army
 The letter-box
 The Aggasiz association: Sixty-eighth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00179
 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: VID00179
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
        Front Cover 3
    In Christmas season, long ago
        Page 83
    The story of Prince Fairyfoot
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    A fortunate opening
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    How a great battle panorama is made
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Cricket songs
        Page 113
    The Bamberry boys
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
    The story of a squash
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
    A scheming old Santa Claus
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    For children dear
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Juan and Juanita
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    A Christmas conspiracy
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
    A nest in a pocket
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
    The magic buttons
        Page 149
    The galley cat
        Page 150
    Sir Pen's little army
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
    The letter-box
        Page 154
        Page 155
    The Aggasiz association: Sixty-eighth report
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    The riddle-box
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




VOL. XIV. DECEMBER, 1886. No. 2.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



Pray come to spend
The Holly-days with your true Friend,
In Hopes that Weather will permit.
To your good Parents Pa has writ,
And you, and Ned, and Frank can ride
Your Poneys by the Chariot's side.

" I am desired to say that Nan
Expects much Sport with Cousin Fan.
She has a Doll from London Town,
With an Egret, and Tabby Gown.
She is so proud! but, Jack, we Boys
Can think of better Things than Toys.

" Halbegs his Love. Pray answer quick.
Your faithful loving

" P. S.-There came gilt Ginger-bread
From England in a Box; for Ned
There 's a Dragoon, for Francis, too;
But, Jack, I '11 save King George for you!"

The yellowed letter,- so it runs,
Oft read by sons and sons of sons.-
Above the formal sheet, outspread,
Dick bent his curly, ribboned head,
With tight-grasped goose-quill moving slow,
That Christmas season, long ago.

'T was sealed and sent; one must confess
Ill sealed,- a finger burnt, I guess !
Black Pompey rode twixtt kith and kin,
With ebon face and ivory grin,

To bear such letters to and fro,
In Christmas season, long ago.

Our fancy paints the Yule-tide sport
At hospitable Holly Court;
How Dick, and Nan, and Harry ran
To welcome Ned, and Frank, and Fan,
And Jack, with apple cheeks aglow,-
In Christmas season, long ago..

What mirthful games! what generous cheer!
What sirloins huge what cider clear!
What "puddens,"- Dicky spelled-it thus,-
What nut-brown turkeys odorous!
What big mince-pies in spicy row,-
In Christmas season, long ago !

As 'round the hearth the circle smiled,
What log fires roared neathh mantels tiled,
Where, figuring forth the Scripture tale,
Blue Jonah fed the azure whale !
What singing sounds what genial glow!
In Christmas season, long ago. .

What stories, told, as snug they sat,
By Cousin This or Uncle That!
Till Dicky vowed to go to sea,
But Jack a soldier bold would be,
Fight for the King, and make a show
In scarlet coat,-long, long ago!

All passed, like scenes in shifting fire:
And sailor Dick grew up a squire;
While (strange the change the swift years bring!)
Bold Jack fell fighting againstt the King.
All vanished, like the melting snow
Of Christmas season, long ago.


jP .yvL..rr'~r..e B
iiA Si


ONCE upon a time, in the days of the fairies,
there was in the far west country a kingdom which
was called by the name of Stumpinghame. It was
a rather curious country in several ways. In the
first place, the people who lived there thought
that Stumpinghame was all the world; they
thought there was no world at all outside of
Stumpinghame. And they thought that the peo-
ple of Stumpinghame knew everything that could
possibly be known, and that what they did not
know was of no consequence at all.
One idea common in Stumpinghame was really
very unusual indeed. It was a peculiar taste in
the matter of feet. In Stumpinghame the larger
a person's feet were, the more beautiful and ele-
gant he or she was considered; and the more
aristocratic and nobly born a man was, the more
immense were his feet. Only the very lowest and
most vulgar persons were ever known to have
small feet. The King's feet were simply huge;
so were the Queen's; so were those of the young
princes and princesses. It had never occurred to any
one that a member of such a royal family could
possibly disgrace himself by being born with small
feet. Well, you may imagine, then, what a terrible
and humiliating state of affairs arose when there
was born into that royal family a little son, a
prince, whose feet were so very small and slender
and delicate that they would have been considered
small even in other places than Stumpinghame.
Grief and confusion seized the entire nation. The
Queen fainted six times a day; the King had black
rosettes fastened upon his crown; all the flags were
at half-mast; and the court went into the deepest
mourning. There had been born to Stumping-
hame a royal prince with small feet, and nobody
knew how the country could survive it !

Yet the disgraceful little prince survived it and
did not seem to mind it at all. He was the pret-
tiest and best-tempered baby the royal nurse had
ever seen. But for his small feet, he would have
been the flower of the family. The royal nurse
said so herself, and privately told his little royal
highness's chief bottle-washer that she "never
see a infant as took notice so, and sneezed as
intelligentt" But of course the King and Queen
could see nothing but his little feet, and very soon
they made up their minds to send him away. So
one day they had him bundled up and carried
where they thought he might be quite forgotten.
They sent him to the hut of a swineherd who lived
deep, deep in a great forest which-seemed to end
They gave the swineherd some money, and
some clothes for Fairyfoot, and told him that if
he would take care of the child, they would send
money and clothes every year. As for themselves,
they only wished to be sure of never seeing Fairy-
foot again.
This pleased the swineherd well enough. He
was poor, and he had a wife and ten.children, and
hundreds of swine to take care of, and he knew he
could use the little prince's money and clothes for
his own family, and no one would find it out. So
he let his wife take the little fellow, and as soon
as the King's messengers had gone, the woman
took the royal clothes off the Prince and put on
him a coarse little night-gown, and gave all his
things to her own children. But the baby prince
did not seem to mind that-he did not seem to
mind anything, even that he had no name but
Prince Fairyfoot, which had been given him in
contempt by the disgusted courtiers. He grew
prettier and prettier every day, and long before



the time when other children begin to walk, he
could run about on his fairy feet.
The swineherd and his wife did not like him at
all; in fact, they disliked him because he was so
much prettier and so much brighter than their
own clumsy children. And the children did not
like him because they were ill-natured and only
liked themselves.
So as he grew older year by year, the poor little
prince was more and more lonely. He had no
one to play with, and was obliged to be always by
himself. He dressed only in the coarsest and
roughest clothes; he seldom had enough to eat,
and he slept on straw in a loft under the roof of
the swineherd's hut. But all this did not prevent
his being strong and rosy and active. He was as
fleet as the wind, and he had a voice as sweet as
a bird's; he had lovely sparkling eyes, and bright
golden hair; and he had so kind a heart that
he would not have done a wrong or cruel thing
for the world. As soon as he was big enough, the
swineherd made him go out into the forest every

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day to take care of the swine. He was obliged to
keep them together in one place, and if any of
them ran away into the forest, Prince Fairyfoot
was beaten. And as the swine were very wild and
unruly, he was very often beaten, because it was
almost impossible to keep them from wandering

off; and when they ran away, they ran so fast,
and through places so tangled, that it was almost
impossible to follow them.
The forest in which he had to spend the long
days was a very beautiful one, however, and he
could take pleasure in that. It was a forest so
great that it was like a world in itself. There were
in it strange, splendid trees, the branches of which
interlocked overhead, and when their many leaves
moved and rustled, it seemed as if they were whis-
pering secrets. There were bright, swift, strange
birds, that flew about in the deep golden sunshine,
and when they rested on the boughs, they too
seemed telling one another secrets. There was a
bright, clear brook, with water as sparkling and
pure as crystal, and with shining shells and peb-
bles of all colors lying in the gold and silver sand
at the bottom. Prince Fairyfoot always thought the
brook knew the forest's secret also and sang it
softly to the flowers as it ran along. And as for
the flowers, they were beautiful; they grew as
thickly as if they had been a carpet, and under
them was another carpet of lovely green moss.
The trees and the birds, and the brook and the
flowers, were Prince Fairyfoot's friends. He loved
them, and never was very lonely when he was with
them ; and if his swine had not run away so often,
and if the swineherd had not beaten him so much,
sometimes-indeed, nearly all summer-he would
have been almost happy. He used to lie on the
fragrant carpet of flowers and moss, and listen
to the soft sound of the running water, and to the
whispering of the waving leaves, and to the songs
of the birds; and he would wonder what they were
saying to one another, and if it were true, as the
swineherd's children said, that the great forest was
full of fairies. And then he would pretend it was
true, and would tell himself stories about them,
and make believe they were his friends, and that
they came to talk to him and let him love them.
He wanted to love something or -somebody, and
he had nothing to love -not even a little dog.
One day he was resting under a great green
tree, feeling really quite happy because every-
thing was so beautiful. He had even made a lit-
tle song to chime in with the brook's, and he was
singing it softly and sweetly, when suddenly, as he
lifted his curly, golden head to look about him,
he saw that all his swine were gone. He sprang
to his feet, feeling very much frightened, and he
whistled and called, but he heard nothing. He
could not imagine how they all could have disap-
peared so quietly, without making any sound;
but not one of them was anywhere to be seen.
Then his poor little heart began to beat fast with
trouble and anxiety. He ran here and there; he
looked through the bushes and under the' trees;


he ran, and ran, and ran, and called, and whis-
tled, and searched; but nowhere nowhere was
one of those swine to be found! He searched for
them for hours, going deeper and deeper into
the forest than he had ever been before. He saw
strange trees and strange flowers, and heard strange
sounds, and at last the sun began to go down and
he knew he would soon be left in the dark. His
Little feet and legs were scratched with bram-
bles, and were so tired that they would scarcely
carry him ; but he dared not go back to the swine-
herd's hutwithout finding the swine. The only
comfort he had on all the long way was that the
little.brook had run by his side and sung its song
to him; and sometimes.he had stopped and bathed
his hot-face in it, and had said, Oh, little brook,
you .are. so kind to :me You are .my friend, I
know.; It would be so lonely without you.! "
When, at last, the sun did. go down, Prince
Fairyf6ot had wandered so far that le did not
know.where he was;, and he was. so: tired that he
threw himself down by the brook, and hid his face
in the flowery moss, and said:' "Oh, little brook, I
am so tired I can go no further And I can never
find them '
While he was lying there in despair, he heard a
sound in the air above him, and looked up to see
what it was.' It sounded like a little bird in some
trouble. And surely enough, there was a huge
hawk darting after a plump little brown bird with
a red breast. The little bird was uttering sharp,
frightened cries, and Prince Fairyfoot felt so sorry
for it that. he sprung up and tried to drive the
hawk away. The little bird saw him at once, and
straightway flew to him, and Fairyfoot covered
it with his cap. And then the hawk flew away in
a great rage.
When the hawk was gone, Fairyfoot sat down
again and lifted his cap, expecting, of course, to see
the brown bird with the red breast. But, instead
of a bird, out stepped a little man, riot much higher
than your little finger--a plump little man in a
brown suit with a bright red vest, and with a cocked
hat on.
"Why!" exclaimed Fairyfoot, "I 'm sur-
prised !"
"So am I!" said the little man, cheerfully. "I
never was more surprised in my life, except when
my great-aunt's grandmother got into such a rage,
and changed me into a robin-redbreast. I tell you,
that surprised me "
I should think it might," said Fairyfoot.
"Why did she do it?"
Mad," answered the little man. "That was
what was the matter with her. She was always
losing her temper like that, and turning people
into awkward things, and then being sorry for it,

and not being able to change them back again.
If you are a fairy, you have to be careful. If you '11
believe me, that woman once turned her second
cousin's sister-in-law into a mushroom, and some-
body picked her and she was made into catsup -
which is a thing no man likes to have happen in
his family."
Of course not," said Fairyfoot, politely.
"The difficulty is," said the little man, "that
some fairies don't graduate. They learn how to
turn people into things, but they don't learn how
to unturn them; and then, when they get mad in
their families,- you know how it is about getting
mad in families,- there is confusion. Yes, seri-
ously, confusion arises. It arises. That was the
way- with my great-aunt's_ grandmother. She
was not a cultivated old person, and she did not
know how to unturn: people, and now you see the
result. Quite accidentally I trod on her favorite
corn; she got mad and changed me into a robin and
regretted it ever afterward. I could only become
myself again by a kiid-hearted person's saving me
from a great danger. You are that person.' Give
me your hand."
Fairyfoot held out his hand. The little man
looked at it.
"On second thought," he said, "I can't shake
it-it 's too large. I '11 sit on it, and talk to
With these words, he hopped upon Fairyfoot's
hand, and sat down, smiling and clasping his own
hands about his tiny knees.
I declare, it 's delightful not to be a robin,"
he said. "Had to go about picking up worms, you
know. Disgusting business. I always did hate
worms. I never ate them myself- I drew the
line there; but I had to get them for my family."
Suddenly he began to giggle, and to hug his
knees up tight.
Do you wish to know what I 'm laughing at ?"
he asked Fairyfoot.
Yes," Fairyfoot answered.
The little man giggled more than ever.
"I 'm thinking about my wife," he said-"the
one I had when I was a robin. A nice rage she '11
be in when I don't come home to-night! --She '11
have to hustle around and pick up worms for her-
self, and for the children, too- and it serves her
right. She had a temper that would embitter the
life of a crow-much more a simple robin. I wore
myself to skin and bone taking care of her and
her brood, and how I did hate 'em! -bare, squawk-
ing things, always with their throats gaping open.
They seemed to think a parent's sole duty was to
bring worms for them."
It must have been unpleasant," said Fairyfoot.
"It was more than that," said the little man.



"It used to make my feathers stand on end. There
was the nest, too! Fancy being changed into a
robin, and being obliged to build a nest at a
moment's notice I never felt so ridiculous in my
life. How was I to know how to build a nest!
And the worst of it was the way she went on
about it."
"She?" said Fairyfoot.
Oh, her, you know," replied the little man,
ungrammatically; "my wife. She 'd always been

V a- I'- \J 4

Oh, no,".answered the little man. I meant
that it nearly killed me to think the eggs were n't
in it at the time."
"What did you do about the nest?" asked
The little man winked in the most improper
"Do ?" he said. I got mad, of course, and told
her that if she had n't interfered, it would n't have
happened; said it was exactly like a hen to fly


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a robin, and she knew' how to build a nest; she.
liked to order me about, too: she was one of that
kind. But, of course, I was n't going to own that I"
did n't know anything about nest-building; I could
never have done anything with her in the world,
if I 'd let her think she knew as much as I did.
So I just put things together in a way of my own,
and built a nest that would have made you weep !
The bottom fell out of it the first night. It nearly
killed me."
"Did you fall out, too?" inquired Fairyfoot.

around giving advice and unsettling one's mind,
and then complain if things were n't right. I
told her she might build the nest herself, if she
thought she could build a better one. She did it,
too And he winked again.
"Was it a better one ?" asked Fairyfoot.
The little man actually winked a third time. "It
may surprise you to hear that it was," he replied;
"but it did n't surprise me. By the bye," he
added, with startling suddenness, "what's your
name and what 's the matter with you?"



"My name is Prince Fairyfoot," said the boy,
and I have lost my master's swine."
"My name," said the little man, "is Robin
Goodfellow, and I'll find-them for you."
He had a tiny scarlet silk pouch hanging at his
girdle .and he put his hand into it and drew forth
the smallest golden whistle you ever saw.
"Blow that," he said, giving- it to Fairyfdot,
"and-take care that you don't swallow- it. You
are such a tremendous creature !" -
Fairyfoot took the whistle and put it very deli-
cately to his lips. He blew, and there came from
'it a high; clear sound that seemed to pierce the
deepest depths.of the forest.
"Blow again," commanded Robin Goodfellow.
Again Prince Fairyfoot blew, and again the pure
clear sound rang through the trees, and the next
instant he heard a loud. rushing and tramping
and squeaking and grunting, and all the great
drove of swine came tearing through the bushes
and formed themselves into a circle and stood
staring at him as if waiting to be told what to do
Oh! Robin Goodfellow Robin Goodfellow !"
cried Fairyfoot, "how.grateful I am to you!"
"Not as grateful as I am to you," said Robin
Goodfellow. "But for you I should be disturbing
that hawk's digestion at the present moment, in-
stead of which, here I am, a respectable fairy once
more, and my late wife (though I ought not to
call her that, for goodness knows she was early
enough hustling.me out of my nest before day-
break, with an unpleasant proverb about the early
bird catching the worm! ) I suppose I should say
my early wife-is at this juncture a widow. Now,
where do you li\ e ?"
Fairyfoot told him, ahd told him also about the
swineherd,:'and how it happened that, though he
was a prince, he had to herd -swineand live in the
forest. .
"Well, well !- "said Robin Goodfellow, "that
is a disagreeable state of affairs. Perhaps I can
make it rather easier for you. You see that is a
fairy whistle."
I thought so," said Fairyfoot.
.. Well," continued Robin Goodfellow, "you
can always call your swine with it, so you will
never be beaten again. Now are you ever
"Sometimes I am very lonely indeed," answered
the Prince. "No one cares for me, though I think
the brook is sometimes sorry, and tries to tell me
Of course," said Robin.- They all like you.
I 've'heard them say so."
Oh, have you ?" cried Fairyfoot, joyfully.
"Yes; you never throw stones at the birds, or

break the branches of the trees, or trample on the
flowers, when you can help it."
S" The birds sing to me,"- said Fairyfoot, and
the trees seem to beckon to me and whisper; and
when I am very lonely, I lie down in the-grass and
look into the eyes of the flowers and talk to them.
I would not hurt one of them for all the world "
"Humph!" said Robin, "you are a rather
good little fellow. Would you like to go to a
"A party! said Fairyfoot. "What is that?"
This sort of thing," said Robin; and he jumped
up and began to dance around and to kick up
his heels gayly in the palm of Fairyfoot's hand.
"' Wine, you know, and cake, and all sorts of fun..
It begins at twelve to-night, in a place the fairies
know of; and it lasts until just two minutes and
three seconds and a halfbefore daylight. Would
you like to come ? "
"Oh," cried Fairyfoot, "I should be so happy
ifI might!"
"Well, you may," said Robin; I '11 take you.
They '11 be delighted to see any friend of mine.
I 'm a great favorite; of course you can easily im-
agine that! It was a great blow to them when I
was changed; such a loss, you know In fact,
there were several lady fairies, who -but no mat-
ter." And he.gave a slight cough, and began to
arrange his necktie with a disgracefully conse-
qu-ential air. though he was trying very hard not
to look r.:ncir,:d; and while he was endeavoring
to-appear easy and gracefully careless, he began
accidentally to hum "See the Conquering Hero
Comes," which was not the right tune, under the
"But for you," he said next, I could n't have
given them the relief and pleasure of seeing me
this evening. And what ecstasy it will be to them,
to be sure! I should n't be surprised if it broke
up the whole thing. They '11 faint so,- for joy,
you know,-just at first -that is, the ladies will.
The men wont like it at all; and I don't blame
'em. I suppose I should n't like it-to see another
fellow sweep all before him. That's what I do;
I sweep all before me." And he waved his hand
in such a fine large gesture that he overbalanced
himself and turned a somersault. But he jumped
up after it, quite undisturbed.
"You '11 see me do it, to-night," he said, knock-
ing the dents out of his hat-" sweep all before
me." Then he put his hat on, and his hands on
his hips, with a swaggering, man-of-society air. I
say," he said, "I 'm glad you're going. I should
like you to see it."
And'I should like to see it," replied Fairyfoot.
"Well," said Mr. Goodfellow, "you deserve it,
though that 's saying a great deal. You've re-



stored me to them. But
for you, even if I'd escaped 'i ..:
that hawk, I should have ''
had to spend the night in
that beastly robin's nest, '
crowded into'a corner by 1 ,
those squawking things,
and domineered over by
her! I was n't made for
that I 'm superior to it.
Domestic life does n't suit
me. I was made for soci-
ety. I adorn it. She never
appreciatedme. She could
n't soar to it. When I
think of the way she treated. ". r
me!" he exclaimed, sud- 'P ,. ..- .'
denly getting into a rage, .- -
" I 've a great mind to turn
back into a robin, and peck
her head off!" -
Would you like to see ....
her now?" asked Fairyfoot .
innocently. .
Mr. Goodfellow glanced ;, "7..' '' '
behind him in great haste,-
and suddenly sat down.' "
"No, no !" he exclaimed '..
in a tremendoushurry; "by '
no means She has nodel-
icacy. And she does n't ", Q.
deserve to see me. And *.
there 's a violence and un- 510
certainty about her move- -,
ments which is annoying i'- '.
beyond anything you can .1' -
imagine. No, I don't want
to see her! I 'll let her go '. .''' '''
unpunished for the present. .,. -'.
Perhaps it 's punishment '. -,
enough for her to be de- .* : .. ,
privedofme. Justpickup
your cap, wont you? and '' L '
if you see any birds lying '
about, throw it at them, ~'-.
robins particularly." -,i
I think I must take the ." : .'' |
swine home, if you '11 ex- /
cuse me," said Fairyfoot. .
"I 'In late now." t .
"Well, let me sit on your .
shoulder and I '11 go with .:-
you, and show you a short '. *' .
way home," said Goodfel-
low; "I know all about it, .
so you need n't think about


we '11 talk about the party. Just blow your whis-
tle, and the swine will go ahead."
Fairyfoot did so, and the swine rushed through
the forest before them, and Robin Goodfellow
perched himself on the prince's shoulder and
chatted as they went.

It had taken Fairyfoot hours to reach the place
where he had found Robin, but somehow it seemed
to him only a very short time before they came to
the open place near the swineherd's hut; and the
path they had walked in had been so pleasant and
flowery that it had been delightful all the way.
"Now," said Robin when they stopped, "if you
will come here to-night at twelve o'clock, when
the moon shines under this tree, you will find me
waiting for you. Now I 'm going. Good-bye! "
And he was gone before the last word was quite
Fairyfoot went toward the hut, driving the swine
before him, and suddenly he saw the swineherd
come out of his house and stand staring stupidly at
the pigs. He was ayery coarse, hideous man with

bristling yellow hair, and little eyes, and a face
rather like a pig's, and he always looked stupid, but
just now he looked more stupid than ever. He
seemed dumb with surprise.
What's the matter with the swine ? he asked
in his hoarse voice, which was rather piglike too.
"I don't know," answered Fairyfoot, feeling a
little alarmed. "What is the matter with them?"
They are four times fatter and,five times bigger
and six times cleaner and seven times heavier and
eight times handsomer than they were when you
took them out," the swineherd said.
"I 've done nothing to them,".said Fairyfoot.
"They ran away, but they came back again."
The swineherd went lumbering back into the
hut and called his wife. "Come, and look at the
swine," he said.
And then the woman came out, and stared first
at the swine and then at Fairyfoot.
"He haL bee ii with the fairies," she said at last
to her husband; "or it is because he is a king's
son. We must treat him better if he can do won-
derslike that."

(To be ca;ntinued.)


SHE came from a round black dot on the map,-
This dear little girl, and she 's called a Jap.
Maybe my sister will show it to you : -
The very place where this little girl grew.

I wish she k aiw zomi.: American words,
Such as "How do you do?" and "trees," and
I 'd like to talk with her ever so much-
But she can 't tell a thing that I sayfrom Dutch.

Well, our dollies will get us acquainted to-day
If she '11 only come out in the Park to play !
If it were not for nbdding, -and. taking their
We could never know people from foreign lands.






Q-.~E--LL, boys," said Mr. Bartlett
SC to a party of his young
i."- friends who gathered
around him after supper,
"I am going to tell you
a story, since you are so
anxious to hear one, and it
S 'will be a story of adven-
I i ture; but it will have no
S\ boy hero. Its heroes are
two persons whom you
1, -- know very .well, but I do
S--' not think the story will be
SI less interesting on that
I account."
I.' One of the young peo-

liked stories of adven-
i 'I ; ture about grown.people
-- ':-_ I better than those about
-boys, because boys gen-
0 n-s, erally were not allowed
to have such good ad-
ventures as grown people could have.
That may or may not be," said Mr. Bartlett.
"But to go on with my story:
When I was about thirty-five years old, and that
was a number of years ago, I failed in business,
and became quite poor. To add to my trouble,
my health failed also; and it was considered advis-
able that I should take a trip to one of the West
Indian islands in order to gain strength before
beginning business again. My wife went with
me, but our little boy was left behind with his
"Our affairs were soon arranged. We collected
money enough for a trip of a few months, and, soon
after, we set sail for an isle of the sea. This island
was a beautiful one, in a charming climate, and here
we lived for three happy months, but when at last
the time came for us to go, we were perfectly sat-
isfied to do so; .and we felt that the object of the
trip had been attained.
"We left the island on the steamer Joseph
Barker, which touched at our island on a home-
ward trip from South America; stopping to leave
a party of scientific men who -had made a special
contract to be landed there; and, as the regular
steamer would not leave for 'a week or longer, we
were very glad to take passage in the Barker.
We sailed over delightful summer seas for a

day and a night and another day and a part of a
night, and then something, very mysterious to me,
occurred. We ran into a great ship, or rather,
the ship -which was under full sail-ran into us.
The reason why this seemed mysterious to me was
that there were hundreds of miles of unobstructed
ocean on each side of us, in any strip of which,
forty yards wide, the two vessels could have passed
in safety; why, therefore, unless there is some
mysterious attraction between vessels at sea, we
should have happened to select the same spot of
water for occupation at the same time, I could
not imagine.
"The shock of the collision was tremendous;
everybody woke up instantly, and many were tum-
bled out of their berths.
My wife and I were soon dressed and on deck.
There we found a great commotion. The general
idea seemed to be that we had sunk the ship. Im-
mediately after the collision, the steamer had
backed away, and the two vessels were separated,
but where was the ship now? It was very dark, but
certainly, if she were above water, she would have
hung out lights and made signs of distress or de-
sire to relieve distress. But she was not to be seen.
"When'our steamer was examined, however,
it was found that the bow of the ship had struck
us on the port side, just aft the foremast, and
had made a hole as big as a front door. No
one now thought of assisting the other ship. She
was, probably, but slightly injured, and it was to
her that we must look for help, for it was certain
that our ship could not keep afloat long with such
a hole as that in its side. Indeed, reports from
below stated that the ship was rapidly filling.
"There were not many passengers, and we
gathered together in a knot on the upper deck;
some were very much frightened, and all anxious
to know what was to be done. A tall gentleman
who was traveling alone told us what would prob-
ably be done. He said rockets .would be sent up
to indicate our position to the ship; a gun would
be fired; the crew, and perhaps the passengers,
would be set to work at the pumps; the donkey-
engine would be assigned similar duty, and imme-
diate efforts would be made to stop up the hole.
We saw signs, or what we supposed to be signs, of
intentions on the part of the crew to do some of
these things; but we could not understand what was
going on, in the hurry and confusion on the decks.
"The tall gentleman left us to make some


suggestions to the captain, who, however, scolded at
him in such a way that he came back to us, and
was just in the midst of some very ungracious
remarks when so unearthly a yell issued from the
escape-pipe behind us that several of us thought
the boilers had burst. But the tall man, ceasing
his complaints, screamed in our ears that the en-
gineer was merely letting off the steam.
"There is no doubt that the captain and the offi-
cers tried to do all that they could, but it was not
long before there were evident signs of a panic.
It was too dark, even with the lights on deck, for us
to see much, but we soon found that there was a
general rush for the boats. Then we also rushed.
The confusion was now so great, and the deaf-
ening noise from the steam-pipe made it so impos-
sible to hear any orders, if any were given, while
the darkness made everything seem so obscure
and uncertain, that I can not describe how we got
into the boats. I know I hurried my wife to a
large boat not very far from us, which was just
about to be lowered, but it was already so full of
people that there was no possible chance for us to
get into it. I then ran aft, and found a small empty
boat at which two men were working. Without a
word, I helped my wife into this, and the two men
soon got in, and, one at the bow and the other at
the stern, theylet it down to the-water. Each man
then took an oar and began to pull away from the
steamer as fast as possible.
"I suggested that we might take some one else
into the boat, but one of the men asked me if I
wanted to stay by a sinking craft until it should
sink and carry us down with it; and then they
pulled away even harder than before.
My wife had said little during all these fear-
ful scenes. She had done exactly as I had told
her; our action accordingly had been expeditious,
and with as little flurry as was possible, under the
circumstances. Unrolling a bundle of shawls,
which I had thrown into the boat, I now began to
make my wife warm and comfortable. This action
attracted the attention of the men. We were very
close to one another in the boat, and our eyes
having become accustomed to the darkness, we
could see one another tolerably well.
"'Was that bundle only shawls?' asked the
man nearer us. I answered that it was. I had picked
up the shawls as we ran out of the stateroom,
thinking it might be cool on deck, and had rolled-
them up, and kept them under my arm until we
were about to get into the boat. I knew they
would be needed.
: The men now stopped rowing for a minute.
One of them took up a little water-keg which was
in the bow of the boat, and shook it.
Nothin' there,' he said. Then some remarks,

which I did not catch, were made about my bundle.
I am quite sure that they thought it contained
some sort of provision for what might be an ex-
tended boat-trip. With their heads together, the
two men said a few words, and, after having
listened attentively for some minutes, they began
again to row with their utmost strength. Before
long they stopped again to listen, and then I heard
the sound of oars. They pulled on, and we soon
could make out a large boat, not far ahead of us.
"'That 's not the one!' said one of the sailors,
turning around. 'That 's the fust mate's boat,
an' loaded up. It 's the purser's boat we want.'
That is n't half full.'
So on they went, stopping every now and then
to listen, and it was not long before we heard oars
again, at which the men in our boat pulled with
renewed vigor. I wondered how they knew in
which direction to row, so as to be likely to fall in
with the other boats; but I did not ask, for I did
not believe the men would stop to answer me. I
supposed, however, that boats' crews, on such
occasions, might prefer to go with the wind.
There was enough wind for us to feel it very
plainly. And now we began to near another boat,
although it was hard work pulling up to it. I
wondered, again, why they all rowed so hard.

They could not be trying to -make any particular
point. As soon as we were close enough, one of
our men hailed the other boat. 'Hullo!' he
cried, 'Room for anybody else aboard?'
"'How many?' a voice called out.
"I instantly rose. in my seat. 'Four,' I shouted.
'Can't do it,' came back the answer. 'You'd
swamp us.'
"Our men made no answer to this, but, bend-
ing to their oars, they pulled like madmen. The
other boat seemed trying to get away from us,
but if this were so, it was a useless effort, for we
rapidly overhauled it. The moment we came
near enough, our bow-oarsman reached out and
seized the stern of the other boat. Then both men
dropped their oars, and, in a second, it seemed to
me, they scrambled into it. As they did so, our
boat fell behind. I rose to my feet and called
out to the other boat to stop, that there were two
more in our boat. But no voice answered us, and
the boat disappeared in the gloom. For a minute
or two, I heard the sound of oars, and then even
that was lost. We were left alone.
"For a time, neither of us could speak. And
then my wife began to cry. The cruel desertion
by our oarsmen broke down her strong spirit. I
tried to comfort her, although I was glad she could
not see my face, or know what despair I felt. I
told her the men could do us no good, and that we
were just as well off without them.



"'You can row,' she said, a little re-assured.
"'Oh yes!' I replied, and I sat down in the
place of one of the men, and took the oars, which,
fortunately, remained in the rowlocks. I began to
row, although I had no idea in what direction I
sho ld go. I could not catch the other boats, and
it u ..:.u be of no advantage if I could. The near-
est land must surely be several hundred miles
away, and, besides, for all I knew, I might be row-
ing toward the Straits of Gibraltar. But the exer-
cise kept me warm, and that was something. I was
not thickly clad, and the wind began to feel quite
cool. My wife was warmly wrapped up, and that
was the only comfort r had. And there we were in
the darkness; I gently rowing, and she seated in
the stern with her face bent down on her knees, sob-
bing. Once I heard her say: 'My poor child!'
"The sea was moderately smooth, although there
were long swelling waves, on which we rose and
fell. The wind was evidently decreasing.
"After a time, my wife raised her head,--I had
been talking to her, but she had seldom spoken,-
and she said: 'Do you think there is any chance
at all for us ? '
'Oh, yes,' I replied; 'as soon as it is daylight
we have a great many chances of being picked up.
Perhaps that ship will come back and cruise about
-in search of us. She probably had-to take a long
tack before she could return, and she could not ex-
pect to come back to the same spot in the dark.'
She made no answer to this, although I think it
must have encouraged her a little, and for a long
time we sat in silence; at last she went to sleep. I
was very glad to find she was sleeping, for, as she
lay upon her side, with her head resting on her
arm, I knew that, for a time at least, she would
forget her despair and our little boy at home.
But I felt all the more lonely and desolate, now
that she slept. No sound could be heard but the
plash of the waves, and nothing could be seen
-but a little water around the boat. The sky.was
covered with an even mass of motionless clouds.
For some time.after we had left the steamer, I could
hear the sound of the escaping steam. But that
was not to be heard now. Perhaps we were too
far away, or perhaps, she had gone down. And
then I thought, with horror, that perhaps she had
not yet sunk, and that she might come slowly
drifting down upon us, and then, rolling over on our
boat, sink. us with herself to the dreadful depths
below. This idea made me so nervous that I could
not help looking behind me, fearing I should see
above me the great black hull, with the masts and
spars bending down toward us.
"At last I too went to sleep. My head dropped
on my breast, and I sat, with the oars still in my
hands, and slept, I know not how long. I was

awakened by an exclamation from my wife. Start-
ing up, I gazed around. It was daylight, the sky
was still cloudy, and, as far as I could see, there
stretched an expanse of dull green water, rising
and falling in long and gentle swells.
"But my wife was sitting up very straight, gazing
past me, with her eyes opened wider than I had
ever seen them. She had evidently just awakened.
'Look there!' she said, pointing over my
I turned quickly, but saw nothing. But then,
as we rose upon a swell, I distinctly saw a vessel.
It seemed to me to be about half a mile away, but
it was probably farther.
"'We 're saved!' I shouted, and I took hold
of the oars and began to pull with all the vigor
that was in me. I wanted to say something, but
remember thinking that every word would waste
breath, and I must row, row, row. It would be
death to let that vessel get away from us.
My wife was as much excited as I was.
"'Shall I wave something?' she cried. I nodded,
and she drew out her handkerchief, and waved it
over her head.
'If I only had a pole,' she said, 'or something
to tie it to!'
There were two oars behind me, but I could not
stop rowing to reach back to get them. She
stood up to wave her signal, but I made her sit
down again. I felt I must speak then.
You must not stand up,' I said; 'you will fall
overboard. Is she coming this way?'
"'I think she is,' was the reply. She is nearer
to us.' -And with both hands she continued wildly
to wave the handkerchief, while I rowed on.
"Suddenly she stopped waving. For an instant,
I ceased rowing and looked at her.
Go on! she said, and on I went. Once,
when I rowed a little out of the right direction, she
told me of my error. She looked straight ahead,
neither waving her handkerchief nor saying any-
'Are we near?' I said, for my arms were grow-
ing lame with the unaccustomed work.
"'Quite near,' she said. 'Row a little more to
the left. Yes, I knew it; it is our steamer! I can
see the name.'
I quickly turned. We were within a couple of
hundred yards of the vessel. It was our steamer.
I too could read the words 'Joseph Barker' on
the stern. She had not sunk yet.
I don't know how my wife bore up under this
terrible disappointment. But she did. She even
smiled weakly when she said we might have staid
on board all night, and have taken the boats
by daylight- if we had only known.
"The dread of the ship which had haunted me


during the night had passed away. I did not care
very much whether she sunk and carried us down
with her, or not. It was a relief to see anything
that reminded me of humanity on that desolate,
lonely sea. I rowed up quite close to her.
'Perhaps there is some one left on board,' said
my wife, and she and I both shouted as loud as we
could; but no answer came from the ship.
"Then I rowed around her, and we saw the
frightful hole in her side. While we were looking
at it my wife said:
Do you know.that I should just as soon be on
board that ship as to be in this little boat I don't
believe she will sink a bit.sooner than we shall.'
"'I was thinking of that,' I replied. 'The
lower edge of the hole in her side is four feet from
the water-level.when she rolls this way, and nine
or ten when she rolls the other way. It must have
been because the waves were high last night that
the water came in. As long as the sea is quiet, I
don't believe she will sink at all.'
"I then rowed up close to the vessel and exam-
ined her injuries as well as I could. The side of the
vessel, which was a wooden one, did not seem to be
damaged below the tremendous gap which the bow
of the other ship had made. The sheathing, as I
believe the outside boards of a ship's hull are called,
seemed tight enough between the water-line and
the hole.
I agreed with my wife that it would be much
better to be on board the steamer than to remain
in our little boat, especially as we began to be hun-
gry. Even if a storm should come on, we should
feel safer in the larger craft. So I set about trying
to get .on board. There were .some ropes, with
blocks and hooks, hanging from the davits from
which the boats had been lowered, and, having
managed. to get hold of one of these, I thought I
might climb -up it to the deck. But my wife was
strongly opposed to this, for, when she saw how the
ropes swung as the ship rolled, she declared that
I should never go up one of them. And when I
came to try the ropes and found that there were four
of them together, passing through a pulley above,
and that, if I should not pull on them equally, I
might come down with a run, I gave up this plan.
"Suddenly I had a happy thought. I rowed
to one of the forward davits, and fastened the
hook that hung from it to the bow of our boat.
Y then paddled the boat around until we were
under, and very near to, the fractured aperture,
which was not far from the forward davits.
'What are you going to do?' asked my wife.
'We ought not to go so near the ship. She will
push us under as she rolls.'
I wish to go still nearer,' said I. 'I don't
believe there is any danger, with that easy rolling.

I wish to get in through that hole. Then I '11 make
my way on deck.'
'But what shall I do? asked my wife, anx-
iously. 'I can never climb in there '
'No, indeed !' said I. 'I don't intend to let
you try. When I get on deck I '11 haul you up.'
But can you do it? she asked, a little doubt-
Certainly I can,' I answered; and I immedi-
ately began to prepare for boarding the ship.
"First, I tied two of the shawls around my wife,
just under her arms, making the knots as secure
as I could. Then I showed her how to fasten the
hook that held the boat, into these shawls, when the
time came. I insisted that she should be sure to
hook it into both shawls, so that if one gave way
there might be another to depend upon. I did not
like to leave my wife alone in the boat, but there
seemed to be no help for it; and, as it could not
float away, there was no danger if she was careful.
"When I had given her all the necessary direc-
tions, I paddled the boat as near to the hole as I
could with safety, and then, standing up, I waited
until the rolling of the ship brought the lower
edge of the aperture within my reach, when I
seized it, and in a moment was raised high out of
the little boat as the ship rolled back again. I
heard my wife- scream, but I knew it was only on
account of my apparently dangerous rise in the
air, and I lost no time in drawing myself up and
scrambling into the hole. It was only by the
exercise of my utmost strength and activity that I
did.this. It would have been better if I had made
a spring from the boat as soon as I had taken
hold, but I did not think of that. Fortunately, the
planking on which I was hanging was firm, and I
quickly made my way in between the splintered
boards and timbers. As soon as I was safely inside,
standing on something,-I knew not what,- I put
my head out of the hole and called down to my
wife. She was in the boat, all right, a short dis-
tance from me, with her face as white as her hand-
"'I was sure you would never get in!' she
cried. 'I knew you would drown !'
"'But you see I did n't,' said I. 'It 's all
right now. I '11 hurry on deck, and have you up
in no time.'
For a moment I thought of trying to help her
in through.the hole, but such an attempt would
have been very hazardous, and I did not propose
it. She could not have brought the boat up prop-
erly, and would probably have fallen overboard
in attempting to reach me. So I told her to sit
perfectly still until I saw her again, and I with-
drew into the interior of the vessel. I found my-
self in the upper part of the hold, among freight



and timber and splinters, and many obstructions
of various kinds, but it was not dark. Light came
through the hole in the ship's side and also from
above. Making my way further into the interior,
I saw that the light from above came from the
open hatchway in the forward deck. This had
probably been opened after the accident, with the
idea of lightening the vessel by throwing out part
of the cargo. Or it may have been that the men
came down that way to investigate the damage
done by the collision. It matters not. The hatch-
way was open, and through it I could probably
make my way on deck.
I was surprised to find no water in the part of
the vessel where I entered. I expected to have to
wade or swim after I was inside. But the water
which had come in was probably far beneath me.
The lower part of the hold might be full for all I
knew. I had no difficulty in climbing out of the
hold. In one of the great upright beams which
supported the corner of the hatchway, there was-a
series of pegs, by the aid of which I easily mounted
to the deck. There I stopped for a moment, and
looked about me. Everything appeared so deso-
late and lonely that my heart sank. But there
was no time for the indulgence of melancholy. I
hurried to the upper deck, where the davits were,
and looked over.
"' Hurrah !' I cried, 'I 'm all right !
"' I wish I were,' came back the plaintive an-
swer from the figure in the little boat.
"'You shall be, directly,' I said. 'Wait one
moment, and I 'll haul you up.'
-"I now directed my wife to unhook the block
from the boat, and to fasten the hook securely in
her shawls--in the way I had shown her. She
immediately rose, stepped from seat to seat, and,
unfastening the hook, coolly stood up in the boat
to attach it to her shawls.
"I was horror-stricken! 'Sit down!' I cried;
'if you lose your balance, you will be overboard
in an instant. You can't stand up in a boat, espe-
cially when it 's rolling about like that.'
She sat down immediately, but the thought
of her. dangerous position made me feel sick for
a moment. Would she ever be safe on deck
beside me?
"She now called up that she was ready, and
that the hook was all right. I then took hold of
the upper end of the rope which ran through the
pulleys in the blocks, and began to haul it in.
This soon produced a pressure on the shawls,
and my wife declared that if I pulled much
harder she would have to stand up.
"'Very well!' I called down, you may stand
up as soon as you please, now. I have you, tight.
You may hold on to the block or the hook, if you

like, but don't touch the ropes. Now I am going
to haul you up.'
I said this very confidently, but I did not feel
confident. I was terribly afraid that I could not
do it. I put the rope over my shoulder and began
to walk across the deck. As the vessel gave a
roll, I felt that I had my wife hanging at the other
end of that rope! Now I must do it! If the
deck had been stationary, I might have pressed
on and slowly pulled her up; but the first time the
vessel rolled over toward me I should have fallen
backward had I not grasped the railing which ran
across the deck in front of the pilot-house. This
railing was my salvation. With the rope over my
right shoulder and wrapped around my right hand,
I clutched the railing with my left hand, and step
by step, and clutch by clutch, I forced myself
along. Once I thought of my wife, dangling and
swinging- above the water, but I banished the
idea-my business was to pull, and keep pulling.
"'When the vessel rolled toward me so that I
was walking up a steep hill, the strain was terri-
ble, but I had advantages when it rolled the other
way, and I could throw much of my weight
against the rope.
"Now the rope had run out a long way. I
was nearly to the other side of the deck. She
ought to be up. I glanced back, but there was
no sign of her. But I knew she had not fallen
off. I could feel her weight. Indeed, it seemed
greater than before. Could I, by some accidental
attachment, be hauling up the boat? If so, there
was no help for it. I must keep on hauling.
"Again I looked back, and, oh, happy sight!
I saw the top of my wife's back-hair just showing
above the side. I gave one powerful pull; I made
the line fast to the railing, and then I ran back.
There she hung, with her whole head above the
side I ought to have pulled her up higher, but
I could not go back to do it now. So I reached
over and. lifted her in. This effort exhausted what
was left of my strength. I managed to take the
hook from the shawls, and then we sank down
beside each other on the deck.
In about half an hour I went below to get my
wife some water. I found water in the cooler in
the dining-room, and. glasses by it. As I filled
one of these, I thought of the curious convenience
of all this. Here we were, alone on the ocean, and
yet I could go downstairs and get'my wife a glass
of water as easily as if I were in my own house.
"'Were you frightened when I was drawing
you up?' I asked my wife.
Frightened!' she answered, 'I almost died I
The boat went from under me as soon as the
steamer rolled and lifted me up, and then when
she rolled back, I was sure I would be dipped into


the water. But I was n't. And then, when I
looked down, and saw nothing but that black
water moving and yawning there beneath me, and
thought of falling into it if any accident should
happen, I could not bear to see it, and shut my
eyes. I bumped against the vessel every time it
rolled, but I did n't mind that. They were gentle
"At this moment I happened to think of the
little boat. Without attracting my wife's attention,
I looked over the side. It had floated away and
was entirely out of our reach. I ought to have
secured it. But it was of no use to regret the acci-
dent now; and, as we began to feel that we ought
to have some food, I proposed we should go below
to look for some. We easily found. the kitchen
'and a pantry, where there were bread and butter
and a variety of cold meats and vegetables, appar-
ently left from the previous- day's dinner. We did
not stop. to make much of a choice of these eata-
bles, but stood up and ate bread. and butter and
cold meat until we were satisfied. -
"'It is astonishing how hungry we are,' said
my wife, '-considering that it is now but very little
after our usual breakfast-time.'
"But I did not think it astonishing after all we
had gone through. The strange thing was that
we should have so much to eat. When we had
finished our meal and had satisfied pur thirst at the
water-cooler, we made a tour of the ship-that is,
of the'more accessible parts of it. We looked into
every stateroom. All were empty. We made sure
that there was not a soul on board but ourselves.
"When we went into our stateroom, we found
everything as. we left ;it; and the sight of the
berths was so tempting ton:ur tired bodies that we
agreed to turn in and take a nap. It was late in
the afternoon when we awoke; and when I looked
at my watch and jumped to the floor, I felt. con-
science-stricken, at having lost so much time in
sleep. What vessels might not have sailed near
ennough.to us to have seen a signal of. distress, if I
had but put one out ? And yet, I think.that if any
vessel had seen the Joseph Barker, it would have
known that something was the matter with her.
I determined not to run the risk of another
collision when night should come on. I found the
lamps in the dining-room empty, and supposed
That all the lamps on board had probably burned
out, and therefore set about looking for oil to
fill some of them. I found a can after a deal of
searching; -and filled a couple of the dining-room
lamps. I would have lighted the red and green
lights that were burned on deck at night, but they
were difficult to get at, and I thought I might not
know how to manage them. So I contented myself
with hanging a large lantern in the rigging near

the bow, and another one at the stern. These were
not placed very high, but I thought they would be
sufficiently visible. The larger lantern I found in
the engine-room, and, to my astonishment,.it was
burning when I took it down. It seemed the only
sign of life on board.
"By the time I had hung out my lights, I found
that my wife had prepared supper, which she had
spread on the captain's end of the long table in
the dining-saloon. She had no tea or coffee, for
there was no fire in the kitchen, but she had
arranged everything very nicely,- and we really had
a pleasant meal, considering the circumstances.
"We did not sit up very long, for the-steamer
looked extremely lonely by lamplight and it was
so very little. lamplight, too.
"The next day, when we went on deck, and
looked out on the lonely ocean, not a sign could
we see of sail or vessel. We spent a great part
of the morning in putting up a signal of distress.
This;consisted of a sheet from one of the berths,
which I fastened to the. halyards on the mainmast
and ran up as high as it would go. There was not
much wind, but it fluttered out quite well.
"We now began to consider our chances of
safety in case we were not soon rescued. I thought,
and my wife agreed with me, that if the sdb re-
mained smooth, the vessel would continue to float;
but what would happen if the waves rose, and
dashed into the great hole in her side, we scarcely
dared to think. We both believed we ought to do
something, but what to do we could not determine.
The small boat was gone, and our fate was joined
to that of the ship. I had heard of fastening: a large
sail over a leak or break in a vessel, so as to keep
out the water to some extent; but a sail big
enough to cover that hole would be far too heavy
for my wife and me to manage.
"We thought and talked the matter over all day,
and the next morning we considered it even more
seriously, for the wind had risen considerably. It
blew from the south, and, as our vessel laywith her
bow to the west,- I knew this from the compass
on deck,- the waves frequently broke against her
injured side, and sometimes, when she rolled over
that.way, the spray did come into the aperture.
If we could steer her around,' said my wife,
'so that the other side would be toward the wind,
it would be better, would n't it ? Can't we go into
the pilot's house, and turn the wheel, and steer
her around ?'
"'No,' said I, 'we could n't do that. You
can't steer a vessel unless she is under way- is
going, that is.'
"'And there 's no way, I suppose, that we
could make her go,' she continued.
"I laughed. The idea of our making this great



vessel move was rather ridiculous. But my wife
did not laugh. Walking about the ship, we went
into the engine-room. We looked at the bright
steel cranks and bars and all the complicated
machinery, now motionless and quiet, and down
through the grating on which we stood, to the

"'You would probably blow us up,' she re-
marked, and so it is just as well as it is.'
"But later in the day she said, 'Why don't
we put up a sail? I have an idea about a sail. If
we put one up that ran lengthways with the vessel,
like the sail on a sailboat, and the wind kept blow-


great furnaces far beneath us, where the coals
were all dead and cold.
'This looks as if it were all in order,' she said,
'and yet I suppose you could n't set it going.'
"I assured her that I certainly could not. I
did not know anything about an engine, and even
if the fires were burning and the boilers full of
steam, I could never hope to turn handles and
work levers so that the great wheels would go
around and move the vessel.
VOL. XIV.-7.

ing on this side of us, it would blow the ship over
a little sideways, as sailboats are when they are
sailing, and that would raise the hole up so that
the water would n't get in.'
"'It might act that way,' I said. 'But we
could n't put up a sail.'
"'Why not?' she asked.
"'We're not strong enough, for one reason,'
said I. 'And don't know how, for another.'
Well, let's go and look at them,' said she.



"As it was certainly better to move about and
occupy our minds and bodies, instead of sitting
still and thinking of all sorts of dangers, we went
to look at the sails. There were two masts to the
steamer. On the mainmast was a large saillike
a schooner's mainsail, which, I was sure, we could
not raise a foot. On the foremast was a square
sail, much smaller, and this, my wife thought, we
certainly ought to be able to set. I was not so
sure about it. The difficulty in our case would
be to get the sail loose from the yard to. which it
was furled. I had seen the sailset, and knew there
was no lower yard, the bottom of the sail being
fastened by ropes at the corners to the vessel. I
suppose it is easy enough for sailors to go out along
the yards and untie-or whatever they call it-the
sails, but I could not do it. Nor did my wife wish
me to try, when she saw what was necessary.
"'If we had the yard on deck,' she said, 'we
could untie the sail and then haul it up again.'
"I knew this would not do, for even if we could
have let the yard down, we could never have hoisted
it up again, and so. after a good deal of examina-
tion and cogitation, I told my wife that we should
have to be content to give it up.
"For the rest of that day we said no more about
setting sails, but the desire to do the thing had so
grown upon me that I got up very early the next
morning without waking my wife and went on
deck. To my delight I found that the wind had
gone down almost entirely. Then, in great fear
lest my wife and the wind should rise, I mounted
the shrouds, carefully and slowly made my way out
on each side of the yard as I had often seen sailors
make their way, and, with a large knife which I
found on deck, I cut all the ropes which confined
the sail, so that it gradually fell down to its full
length. I could not unfasten the knots nor com-
prehend the turnings of the ropes that held the
sail, and even to cut them was a work of time and
danger to me. But at last it hung down, slowly
waving and curling with the motion of the ship;
for the swell on the sea still continued. I descend-
ed, trembling with the exertion and excitement.
By ropes attached to the lower corners of the sail,
I loosely fastened it to the deck, so that it should
be under control in case the wind arose, and then
I went aft.. I met my wife coming up the com-
panion-way. To her inquiries as to what I had
been doing, I told her I. had been setting the fore-
sail, at which she went forward to see how I had
done it. When she came back she found me lying
down on a sofa in the dining-saloon.
And so you went out on that yard and undid
those ropes?' she said.

"I answered that I was obliged to do so, or I
could not have set the sail. It is not necessary to
report the lecture that ensued, but it was a long
and a serious one. When all was over, I promised
never to do anything of the kind again, and then
we had breakfast.
From the tiin6 when we boarded the steamer
we had not failed, at every convenient moment
during the daytime, to look for sails. But we
had seen but two, and those were very far off, and
had soon disappeared. Our signal of distress was
kept flying; but, after a time, we began to wonder
whether or not it was a signal of distress.



"'Perhaps a white flag on thehighest mast
means that everything 's all right,' remarked my
"I did not know how such a flag would be
regarded, but thought that if any vessel could
catch sight of our steamer rolling about without
any smoke or sails, we would need no signal of
distress. I wondered that we did not meet other
vessels. I had thought there were so many ships
on the ocean that, in the course of a day or two,
we could not help meeting at least one. But I
worked out a theory on the subject.
We are probably,' I said to my wife, 'in the
Gulf Stream, which flows northward. Vessels

going south avoid this stream, and therefore we
do not meet them.'
"' But shall we never meet a vessel? asked my
wife. The Gulf Stream goes to England, does n't
it? Do you suppose it will drift us as far as
that ?'
Oh,' I said, I have no doubt there will be
vessels crossing the stream before long. Or one
may overtake us.'

(To be concluded.)





A CERTAIN brave and prominent general in the
late war always insisted that the best and safest
place from which to view a battle was just behind the
central line of one of the engaging armies -if the
spectator did not mind the shells and minie-balls.
The general died without seeing one of the battle
panoramas or cycloramas," as they are some-
times called now so frequently exhibited in our
larger cities. In one of these, he could have stood
in the best possible place, without considering the
question of safety or of minding shells and minie-
balls, however hotly the battle might be raging all
around him. .For so skillfully is the foreground
blended into the painted scene upon the canvas,
that, but for the silence, the spectator seems actu-
ally to stand in the midst of the real battle.
It is'always interesting to visit an old battle-
ground. The veteran who, years before, was
engaged in the actual conflict, and the tourist who
has read and re-read the story of the desperate
fight, alike find much pleasure in standing upon
the actual field and endeavoring to locate the

contending forces or trying to trace out the lines
of advance, attack, or retreat.
The visitor to those old battle-fields, however,
finds to-day only slight signs of conflict. Few of
the old roads can be traced; towns have grown into
cities; pleasant farms have overgrown' the earth-
works; and forests stand in the fields which, years
ago, were marked with the smoke and strife of
battle. The aim of the battle panorama is to re-
produce not only the field of the conflict, as it
was at the time, but also the most striking events
of the battle as they would have appeared to a
spectator from the same standpoint.


THE first step, after selecting the subject of a
battle panorama, is to collect all obtainable sketch-
es, records, and photographs relating to it. These
are studied with great care by the leading artists
engaged for the work, who then go to the real field
of battle, where, for a month at least, they make


sketches of the ground from some commanding
point. The spot thus chosen for studying the
field may have been overgrown with trees since
the days of battle, but the lookout is usually
so well selected that it is possible to construct a
plan of the landscape as it formerly appeared, and
so to make a sketch of the battle-ground precisely
as it was at the time of the fight. I have found,
too, in my own experience, that in reproducing
the scene of a battle in which I had been engaged,
my note-books and memory enabled me to correctly
locate all the old roads, houses, earthworks, camps,
fields, forests, and troops, as they were on the day
of the battle.
The sketches made by the artists on the battle-
ground, and all the material previously obtained,
are next taken to the panorama-studio where the
great picture is to be painted.


BEFORE describing the studio and its work, it
will be interesting to look at the corps of artists em-
ployed upon the great picture. Every man has
some special talent. One artist excels in painting
skies and distance, another in foreground and near-
by trees. A third loves to paint animals, and is
noted for his pictures of horses. To still another
is given the study of uniforms and military equip-
ments; while even the artists who paint the human
figures have peculiar ability in special lines, and
so are assigned to different portions of the figure-
work. And in the same way, the landscape part
of the picture is parceled out among the landscape


THE preparation of the composition or first
plan of the panorama is the next important feature
of the work.
A strip of prepared canvas forty feet long by
five feet high is first stretched upon a circular
framework of wood. This framework is exactly
one-tenth the size, in its various dimensions, of the
building in which the panorama is to be exhibited.
Over the canvas, sheets of heavy white drawing-
paper are tacked. An outline of the landscape
is roughly sketched in charcoal on this paper.
' Important masses and groups of figures are next
located, and the work thus progresses until the inte-
rior wall of the circular room is covered with an
interesting sketch of what a spectator would have
seen during the battle, if he had stood at the exact
point of view selected by the artists as the center
of the landscape.
The leading figure-painter always controls this

part of the work. He carefully plans the design
so as to secure graceful and effective lines in the
landscape and interesting grouping for the figures.
This is no small task, as it is necessary carefully to
arrange the proportions of these figures so that
they will appear life-sized in the finished painting.
Changes, alterations, and improvements are made
with charcoal, and at last the sketch becomes a
drawing. The artists who are to paint special
features or parts of the panorama are now made
acquainted with the outlines of the composition,
and, working under the direction of the chief
painter, they aid him in making a clear pen-and-
ink drawing over the charcoal outline. When this
pen-and-ink outline has been completed, the char-
coal marks are dusted off, and, later, are entirely
removed by rubbing bread-crumbs over the paper.
In the preparation of this first drawing, the
artists become familiar with the general plan of
the big painting, and can work more intelligently
when called to execute it upon the panorama-
In the composition, every command is located
and the prominent officers are noted, while por-
traits of soldiers known to have been in the fore-
ground are also indicated.
The landscape, roads, and other natural objects
are drawn so as to present the scene of battle as
it actually appeared at the time of the conflict.
In doing this, the sketches and note-books are con-
stantly referred to. When finished, the composi-
tion is a pen-and-ink drawing on a scale one-tenth
that of the proposed panorama. This drawing,
embraced on a strip of paper forty feet long and
five feet wide, is divided into ten sections, every
section being indicated by a letter of the alphabet.
Every one of these sections is then covered with
an equal number of squares, every square being
designated by the letter of the section as well as
a number: thus, Square A I, Square A 2, and
so on. This is to aid the artists in enlarging the
pen-and-ink drawing, and transferring it to the
panorama-canvas, which is likewise covered with
an equal number of squares, each square being ten
times the width and and-height of the correspond-
ing one on the pen-and-ink drawing.
A tracing of the pen-and-ink drawing is next
made, and by means of it the outlines of the draw-
ing are transferred to the .small canvas, whichis of
exactly the same size as the paper that contains"
the drawing. On this canvas, the chief artist
rapidly paints and indicates the different degrees
of color, light, and shade that he wishes to have
given to the panorama. This canvas when thus
treated, is known as "the dummy." It is very
useful as a color guide to the artists when they are
at work upon the panorama itself.





ALTHOUGH the greater part of the work is done
in the panorama-studio, much of the preliminary
sketching is often done out-of-doors. The artists
who painted one well-known American panorama
occupied for a time the terraced garden attached
to the residence of the principal artist, where they
set up a real garden-studio. The garden was a

would be aiming his directly at the big easel of
one of the chief figure-painters. Still another
model, posturing for the time as a dead soldier,
would be lying prone on the grass, where he would
have to keep quite still,- perfectly still,- no mat-
ter how constantly the busy flies might annoy him.
The models who "pose for the figures in the
panorama are carefully selected. They must be
men strong enough to endure the strain of stand-

.. .. .


corner-lot separated from the street by a picket-
fence, above and through which the passer-by had
a full view of what was going on within. Scattered
about the garden were guns and uniforms, harness,
haversacks, and military equipments,- relics of
the war-days,- so scorched and camp-stained that
a tramp would have condemned them. But they
were highly prized by the artists, as the best clothes
for the models who, in various attitudes, repre-
senting either Union or Confederate soldiers, were
disposed about the garden-studio. Some would
be reclining on the ground as wounded men; one
would be leaning on an Enfield rifle, while another

ing.or lying in the same position for some time,
and without any change or rest. They must also
be intelligent enough to understand the action of
such figures in the composition as they are re-
quired to personate. The models assume posi-.
tions, and wear uniforms, arms, and accouterments,
precisely similar to those of the figures in the
original sketch--whether of private soldiers or
general officers--which they for the moment
The collection of uniforms and equipments--
such as that in the garden-studio -is one of the
curiosities of a panorama-studio. Every branch


of the military service is represented in the cloth-
ing of the "blue and the gray," here brought
together. The various styles of saddle and bridle,
of guns, sabers, pistols, carbines, blankets, rough
army shoes, heavy woolen socks, haversacks, can-
teens, shelter-tents, and harness for artillery horses
and mules, may here be seen.


THE work can now be transferred to the studio
proper. This is a large circular building, strongly
built of wood, but completely covered with cor-
rugated iron, which serves the double purpose of

An iron track, built within a few feet of the
walls and twice as broad as an ordinary railroad,
runs around the interior of the building. The cars
for this track vary in height from ten to fifty feet.
They are in reality wooden towers on wheels-
every tower composed of a number of platforms
reached by flights of stairs, and so arranged as to
leave the sides of the platforms nearest to the can-
vas unobstructed. Six of these cars are provided
for the painting of a single panorama.
Fifty feet above the railroad track, a massive ring
or circle of timber is held in place by brackets fast-
ened to the wall of the studio. This ring must be
of exactly the same size as the corresponding ring

- tAk.


protection from fire and cold. One-third of the
circular roof is made of glass, thus admirably light-
ing the interior of the studio. The wall of the
building -is nearly sixty feet high, and is braced
and strengthened with heavy timbers, necessary to
support the weight and strain of the canvas. In
the center of the studio is a circular platform, the
height of which is determined by the horizon, or eye
line, of the panorama to be painted. Above the
platform, a canvas canopy, called the "umbrella," is
suspended. This prevents the artist or spectator from
seeing the upper edge of the canvas, and causes the
scene to appear as if viewed from under a piazza-
roof which shuts out the sky directly overhead.

from which the immense painted canvas is to hang,
in the building in which the cyclorama is to be
exhibited when completed. And it is measured
and leveled, by a surveyor who places his transit,
or measuring instrument, on the central platform.


THE linen or canvas for the panorama is of
the best quality, and heavier than that used for
smaller paintings. It is specially woven at Brus-
.sels, Belgium, in great breadths, thirty feet wide
by fifty feet long. These are neatly stitched to-



gether, and compactly folded in a strong wooden water, and the face of the canvas is given a coat
box in which the canvas is sent to this country. of weak glue, known as size."

17 ~hA IV/ "

T.L AF 1,Ti -r:T I I -. ..- -_

On arrival at the studio, it is hung and nailed
fast to the ring by "riggers," who sing is they haul
up and shake out the great folds, which drape
down in grand masses that delight the artists' eyes.
The canvas is a little longer than the circumference
of the big wooden n ring from which it is hung;
but a sailor, suspended from a boatswain's chair,
stitches the lap together so tidily that the seam is
not visible from the platform. A wide hem is next
stitched around the lower edge of the canvas,
spaces being left open for the introduction of sec-
tions of a hollow iron ring, of the same circum-
ference as the wooden ring above. The sections
of the ring, after all have been slipped inside the
hem, are fastened together by couplings, and the
lower part of the canvas is thus stretched into cir-
cular form to match the top. Still more weight,
however, is required to stretch the canvas perpen-
dicularly; and so a thousand or more bricks, weigh-
ing in all from two to three tons, are fastened at
intervals around the iron ring in groups-three or
four,bricks to each group.
The canvas is now ready to be primed "; that
is, to have its first coat of color laid on. In prepa-
ration for this, the-back is thoroughly sponged with


is.thrown upon the great canvas, which has been
similarly lined off into sections and squares, every
section of the original drawing being magnified
to the exact size of the corresponding section on
the canvas.
For this work, night is the most favorable
time, as the lines are then more sharply outlined,
and, being distinctly visible, can be rapidly traced


iA~ ,__ \over the canvas a ton or
'. ;" more of "whiting" (white
",. lead and oil), which
When dry forms the
surface upon which
the artists paint the
Panorama. The orig-
inal drawing has
meanwhile been pho-
tographed by sec-
tions on glass plates.
By an arrangement
S.of lenses and a strong
light, like a magic
(: lantern, an enlarged
Image of every section




on the canvas with umber. The illustration show-
ing this scene fully explains the work. But as the:
great canvas is so mdch larger than the paper on
which the first drawing was made, the enlarged
copy of that drawing always seems to contain
too few figures. When all of the lines, there-
fore, are traced upon the canvas, many more fig-
ures have to be introduced into the scene, ,other-
wise old soldiers and their friends would ask:
"Where are your troops? In the pen-and-ink

I, I "

S .- 1 ,' i ,

I 1'1'

i'-- -

The landscape outline is correspondingly worked
up, and the artists are busy putting in broad masses
of color to give a tone to the canvas and remove
the glare of light reflected from its too white


THE "dummy," already referred to, is now
frequently co.riulhti and affords the key arid

I. Ilhj I~1,ll.'j'.,7,!jl


drawing, this lack of numbers is not evident; it is
the result of the enlargement, which also shows
other defects, such as would naturally be expected
when one foot on a drawing is increased to ten feet
on a panorama-canvas. All this has to be antici-
pated, and is provided for. Additional groups of
figures are rapidly sketched in, and lines of battle
are reinforced by the addition of other soldierly
figures. The scene represented on page 107, for
example, when first enlarged on the great canvas,
contained far.too few figures, -and the number had
to be greatly increased before it appeared as in the

suggestion of the colors to be used. Presently,
from the topmost platform of the highest car,
certain of the artists are busily painting away at
the sky and putting in the clouds, which will be
perfected when the sky has its second painting.
These artists, up aloft, take their colors from
a table, the top of which is arranged as a palette.
The other artists are busy upon some special work
to which they have been assigned, and for which
they have already painted the studies that are now
distributed about the platforms, every one of wftich
is a veritable studio.
All this is.rapid work, and is, indeed, but the





groundwork of the panorama, into which the PAINTS.
" details or special features of the picture will be
worked later on. These details require time and THE question is frequently asked, "What paints
patience, and can be painted to better advantage do the.artists use? In the better.class of battle
when the broad masses of color are dry. panoramas, only colors of the best quality are used,


such as are used by an artist in his work upon a was left thus blank and bare, and was most dis-
fine oil-painting. This color is, of course, pur- turbing to the German professor who was the
chased in very large quantities; as an instance, chief artist. His eye was so distracted and troubled
for the panorama in which I was interested, the by it that he one day directed some of the loitering


rich yellowish paint, known as cadmium, cost
two hundred dollars, and was contained in four
tin cans, each the size of an ordinary peach-can.
This is an expensive color, and while artists have
no desire to scrimp in its use, they do object to a
reckless waste of it. An amusing incident occurred
in this connection during the painting of the pano-
rama to which I have referred.
When the composition is drawn, the general
plan for that part of the cyclorama known as the
foreground, which is composed of natural objects,
is also thought out. It is then settled what por-
tions of the great canvas will be hidden by the
foreground of natural objects, such as real earth-
works, mounds of sod-covered earth, and log breast-
works. Usually that part of the canvas is left
without color, except such fanciful sketches as the
artists may paint for studio view only. A portion
of our picture, The Battle of Missionary Ridge,"

models to take some color, "any color," he said,
"and scumble over the surface to tone it down."
The models, dressed as Union and Confederate
soldiers and officers, worked industriously for
twenty minutes, when it was suddenly discovered
that they had emptied three fifty-dollar cans of cad-
mium and were opening the fourth A half-dollar's
worth of cheap house-paint would have been bet-
ter, for no preparation had been used to make
the cadmium dry, and it was still soft when the
panorama was sent for exhibition to Chicago.
What the artists said when they discovered the
models' mistake was not plain to me, as it was spo-
ken in German; but I know that they all talked
at the same time and very vigorously.

THE central platform is, of course, the stand-
point from which visitors will. view the panorama,




--and therefore the artists are obliged to go to it
frequently, as the painting nears completion, in
order to observe the effect and progress of their
This, too, is the place of conference, and despite
the signs of "No Admittance," within and without,
visitors are frequent and usually welcome. These
visitors are often veteran soldiers who took part in
the action represented, and who often make help-
ful suggestions where the artists' notes are imper-
fect. These visitors study every detail and discuss
the panorama point by point. They are acquainted
with the scene and delight to study out the meaning
of every line and dash of color.
The army stories that are told on the central
platform, when old soldiers meet and discuss the
old days, would, if collected, make a prodigious
volume. The floor of the platform is chalked
and rechalked with diagrams, some referring to

which are memoranda of incidents and a variety
of data, as well as names and addresses, are pinned
to the convenient timber with thumb-tacks. Upon
tables will be found sections of the composition,
spread out opposite to their location upon the
great canvas; field-glasses keep the drawings in
place; and the inevitable piece of chalk is there
also, ready for instant use.
The artists paint steadily, every individual being
mainly occupied in perfecting his own work,
though never hesitating to ask or extend aid in
some special direction. One artist, for instance,
has an excellent figure of a mounted officer, all
complete excepting the portrait, a photograph
for which is pinned to the canvas. While, this
artist goes to strengthen a line of battle, another
one will rapidly paint in an admirable portrait for
the incomplete figure. Soon, another brush is busy
with the horse, while still another artist calls for


the panorama itself, but more to illustrate occur-
rences upon other fields. The strong pine rail
surrounding the platform is penciled all over with
kindred decorations, while scraps of paper, upon

some special saddle and bridle to be brought to
the platform that he may paint the trappings.
Now, look at the back of the photograph which
is pinned to the canvas-a faded carte de visit


of a young officer; upon a slip of paper we read
the following: Col. K., now on General Sheri-
dan's staff; then captain, General Thomas's staff,
H 47 (meaning the section H, square 47 of the
panorama); "French cap, blouse, captain's straps
-staff--dark-blue trousers, gold cord, cavalry

pital scene; around him is scattered a complete field
outfit for an army surgeon-cases of instruments,
bandages, bottles, and a model uniformed as a hos-
pital steward, who has stood so long in one position
that he shakes as if he had the ague, until the
interested painter, noting his suffering condition,


boots, staff sword, McClellan saddle; shabrack-
black horse; see sketch."
In the above copy of a scene from the cyclorama
called The Battle of Atlanta," several of the fig-
ures are portraits, the one on the foremost horse be-
ing that of General John A. Logan. Every officer
represented is pictured in the uniform which he
wore on the day of the fight, while even the horses
and their accouterments are as faithfully depicted.
These instances will give an idea of the way
in which facts are preserved when a panorama is
painted by artists who conscientiously strive to
make of the work a great historical painting.
Upon-the platform of oneof the high cars an artist
may be seen carefully finishing a Confederate hos-

releases him with an apology for this unintentional
cruelty. But perhaps, of all the models, the rough
contrivance known as the wooden horse is both
used and abused the most. Boards are nailed on
or knocked off it to make it fit the size of the
saddle, bridle, or harness in use for the moment,
and the unfortunate human model who has to mount
the framework designated as a horse, puts both his
skin and his garments in danger of damage from.
nails and splinters.


IN most panoramas, the sky covers two-thirds.
and the landscape one-third of the canvas. In.



r ., mlsl



the painting of Missionary Ridge, to which I have
before referred, and which represents a battle upon
hill-tops, this proportion was necessarily reversed,
and so a longer time than usual was required to
paint the scene.
But now the artists are busy with the last touches.
A car is seldom in one place for more than an hour.
The models are chiefly employed in responding to
the calls of the artists from their platforms : Push
this car Push this car The small cars can
be moved without difficulty, but the tall cars are
very heavy, and are provided with a mechanical
contrivance for their propulsion.


AND now the studio begins to resound with the
hammering of carpenters, building a huge "spool"
upon which to roll the canvas, and the box to con-
tain and transport it. A small cottage, could be
built for the cost of these two appliances; for they
must be strong and true. The barrel of the big spool
is two feet in diameter, and is made of strips of pine
three inches thick,, grooved together. Sections
of oak plank bolted together and fashioned into
wheels, six inches thick and four feet in diameter,
form the ends; and through these, three-inch holes
are bored to pass the cable used in handling the
spool when.the canvas is rolled upon it. The
cable or heavy rope must be strong enough to
bear the whole weight of the rolled panorama,
and thus avoid a pressure upon the canvas that
would surely injure the painting.


ALL the painting paraphernalia are now removed
from the highest car, which is now to be used in
rolling the canvas on the spool. At the top and
bottom of the car are fastened projecting braces, or
"bearings," in which the ends of the spool are se-
cured in such a way that it will revolve readily, and
will stand upright and close to the ring. A sailor
perched on his boatswain's chair rips out the seam
and helps the men on the platforms to nail one side
of the canvas firmly to the spool. Other men
loosen the canvas from the ring and remove the
weights and iron ring at the bottom, and while the
car is moved slowly along, the spool is revolved by
men stationed above and below. An occasional
nail is driven to fasten the canvas to the top of the
spool. In two hours, if all goes well, the pano-
rama is safely rolled face in upon the spool. By
means of ropes and a windlass, the great roll is
then lifted clear of the strong pins that held it in
place, and is blocked up to permit the passage of
the cable through the spool. The ends of the cable
are securely fastened, and the roll, -a dead weight

of six or seven tons, is steadily lowered into the
box in which it is to be despatched to the place
of exhibition. This great box and its precious load
are removed from the studio through a large door-
way made expressly for the purpose, and are shipped,
on platform cars, to the building where the pan-
orama is to be shown to the public.




THE Exhibition Building, now so familiar to all
who live in our larger cities, is a great circular
edifice of brick, wood, and iron. It is provided
with an iron track and a high car built in sections
so as to be quickly put together when required
for use. Upon its arrival at the Exhibition Building,
the panorama is carefully unrolled and is hung by
the method employed for hanging the canvas in
the studio, which has already been described.


THE material for the foreground has been pre-
pared before the receipt of the picture. The chief



artist and the mechanical constructor have super-
intended the construction of the platforms, follow-
ing the irregular line indicated both on the first
drawing and the panorama. All the lumber that
is used is treated with a composition of silicate to


ss i ; .* .


keep out moisture, and to make it fire-proof. Hun-
dreds of loads of earth have been carted into the
building; quantities of lumber, trees both living
and dead, together with a collection of fence rails,
bushes, sods, logs, sand, and a variety of camp
equipage, are piled about, ready for use. The plat-
forms are the groundwork for the earth and sod,
which are very skillfully joined to their painted
semblances on the canvas; bushes and trees are
planted; earthworks and log camps are built;-
everything is done with careful intent to make the
foreground and painting appear as one whole
landscape, and so to join the two in meaning and
color as to make it nearly impossible for a spec-
tator to determine at any point which is the real
and which the painted scene. This work calls
for very careful judgment, as it is necessary to
settle the exact relation in size which real objects
shall bear to those in the painting. An ordinary
cap or hat placed upon the foreground near the
canvas would seem prodigious, though the same
hat, thrown on the ground near the platform oc-
cupied by the spectator,, would not attract notice.
The entire foreground must, therefore, be arranged
to aid the perspective of the painting, so that when
the panorama is ready for exhibition, even the art-
ist, who has constantly labored to attain that very
result, finds difficulty in realizing that the scene
spread before him is painted upon canvas which
hangs vertically but forty feet distant from his eye.


THE curiosity of visitors has no end. They
refuse to believe facts, and frequently resort to
novel methods to confirm their own ideas. Many
suspect that an immense plate of glass is placed
between the spectator and the canvas; and some
persons have even thrown objects with sufficient
force to go thrice the distance from the platform



to the canvas, for the purpose, as they said, of
testing this glass. Of course, there is no glass
nor any other means of deception than the simple
arrangements here described. The largest figures
on the canvas are between three and four feet
high, though they seem to be full life size.
A certain inquisitive old lady, visiting one of
the earliest of these panoramas,- "The Battle

I lll

man soldiers which looked like dwarfs beside her.
Great laughter greeted her return to the platform,
where she remarked: Oh, my! how they do grow
when you get back, away from them And this
is the whole secret of the effect produced upon the
Some very interesting optical facts are found
in these panoramas. In the "Battle of Mission-


''i I -

) 'I 41 j ~ L ~ ~ -,


n i
7zs v" i



* I -" f

of Sedan,"-helped herself over the platform-rail
by means of convenient chairs, and trotted down
an earth road leading from the platform to the
canvas, where- alongside the painted figures -
she looked like Gulliver's wife among the Lili-
Why! Oh, my! she exclaimed, "'look at
these dear little men! They are only so big! "hold-
ing up her parasol near a painted group of Ger-


ary Ridge" there, is, near the Craven House, on
the side of Lookout Mountain, what appears to
the eye to be a steep, open field. Looked at with
a suitable field-glass, however, this precipitous ap-
pearance disappears, as it does also in the real
scene when looked at in the same way. This
truth to nature results from the painstaking work
of the artists, who have painted the distance as
conscientiously as the foreground.



Battle panoramas have been known for years in
Europe. During the reign of Napoleon I., one was
exhibited in Paris, and at present nearly all the
principal cities of Europe have buildings for the
exhibition of this kind of panorama. As all these
buildings and panoramas are of exactly the same

for the purpose of showing the facts that came un-
der his observation as a soldier in the actual battle.
A tell-tale silence pervades the platform of such
a panorama, in direct contrastwith the enthusiasm
aroused by a panorama in which now one and now
another veteran can recognize the places where he


size, an interchange of canvases is possible, and this
is said to be the intention of the panorama compa-
nies of the United States. It must, however, be
said that some of the panoramas on exhibition
have absolutely no value as historical paintings.
They are fictitious productions, and have in them
nothing that a veteran can recognize and explain to
those whom he has accompanied to the exhibition

camped, picketed, marched, and fought. If the
soldiers who are so earnest to have only the truth
of history correctly printed in books, would but in-
sist upon equal truth in the paintings of the same
stirring conflicts, we should have many grand his-
torical pictures instead of what may be interesting
but are often badly painted and almost wholly
imaginary scenes.








WHAT 'S the song the crickets sing-
Summer, autumn, winter, spring?

When I take my little broom
And go dusting through the room:
"Sweep sweep sweep sweep "

When I go to bed at night,
Then I hear them out of sight:
"Sleep sleep sleep sleep "

When I waken, every day,
If it 's sunny, then they say:
' Peep peep peep peep !"

But they feel as bad as I
When it rains, for then they cry:
"Weep weep weep weep !"



THERE were five of the Bamberry boys, and
when the oldest of them (Burton) was seventeen,
and the youngest (Johnny) was seven, their Uncle
Todd, a successful wool-grower in an adjoining
county, made every one of them a present of a
Mr. Bamberry, the boys' father, had tried the
experiment of sheep-raising a few years before,
but had abandoned it, after having nearly all his
flock killed by dogs.
"You never can find out whose dogs do the
mischief," he said; "and it's too much trouble.
to keep constant watch and ward against them.
No !" he would add, emphatically, when his boys
teased him to begin again with a few lambs, "I never
want to see another sheep come upon my farm!"
But he was a good-natured man, and when
Uncle Todd made his offer of five yearling lambs,
provided the boys would go over after shearing-
time and make him a visit and drive them home,
Mr. Bamberry, reluctantly assenting, said:
Well, well try it, if you will; but remember,
it 's your experiment, not mine."
Then the question arose, who should go for the
sheep? and as not one of the boys was willing to
remain at home, -not even seven-year-old Johnny,
nor Henry, the third one, who was lame,-it was
decided that they all should go. They could take
Dolly and the one-horse wagon, drive over on one
day, and return with the sheep the next.
It was a delightful adventure, and never were five
boys happier than the Bamberry brothers when,
VOL. XIV.-8.

on the second morning, while the air was yet cool
and the dew on the grass, they set out with their
bleating flock for home. They proceeded leisurely,
letting the young sheep nibble occasionally by the
wayside; and when one appeared tired and lagged
too much, they picked it up and tumbled it into
the wagon. At eleven o'clock they stopped to feed
the horse and eat their own luncheon at a roadside
spring, and by the middle of the afternoon they
arrived home triumphantly with their little flock.
Nothing interests boys on a farm so much as
something of their own to take care of and hope
for profit from; and Uncle Todd's gift proved in
many ways a benefit, not only to the brothers, but
to the whole Bamberry household. It served to
cure Burton of his restlessness; and from that time
Todd, the second son (named after his uncle),
began to show an interest in farm matters, which
had never had the least attraction for him before.
And the flock was a bond of union between the
five boys, making them not only better brothers,
but better sons.
Mr. Bamberry was to have the wool in return for
pasturage and fodder; but the sheep and their
increase were to belong to the boys. The flock
prospered, numbering eleven the second year (in-
cluding two pairs of twins), and eighteen the third,
not counting two or three lambs which the boys
had fattened for the table and sold to their father
for a good price.
As a protection against dogs, the boys had built
a high pen of unplaned boards, on the edge of






WHAT 'S the song the crickets sing-
Summer, autumn, winter, spring?

When I take my little broom
And go dusting through the room:
"Sweep sweep sweep sweep "

When I go to bed at night,
Then I hear them out of sight:
"Sleep sleep sleep sleep "

When I waken, every day,
If it 's sunny, then they say:
' Peep peep peep peep !"

But they feel as bad as I
When it rains, for then they cry:
"Weep weep weep weep !"



THERE were five of the Bamberry boys, and
when the oldest of them (Burton) was seventeen,
and the youngest (Johnny) was seven, their Uncle
Todd, a successful wool-grower in an adjoining
county, made every one of them a present of a
Mr. Bamberry, the boys' father, had tried the
experiment of sheep-raising a few years before,
but had abandoned it, after having nearly all his
flock killed by dogs.
"You never can find out whose dogs do the
mischief," he said; "and it's too much trouble.
to keep constant watch and ward against them.
No !" he would add, emphatically, when his boys
teased him to begin again with a few lambs, "I never
want to see another sheep come upon my farm!"
But he was a good-natured man, and when
Uncle Todd made his offer of five yearling lambs,
provided the boys would go over after shearing-
time and make him a visit and drive them home,
Mr. Bamberry, reluctantly assenting, said:
Well, well try it, if you will; but remember,
it 's your experiment, not mine."
Then the question arose, who should go for the
sheep? and as not one of the boys was willing to
remain at home, -not even seven-year-old Johnny,
nor Henry, the third one, who was lame,-it was
decided that they all should go. They could take
Dolly and the one-horse wagon, drive over on one
day, and return with the sheep the next.
It was a delightful adventure, and never were five
boys happier than the Bamberry brothers when,
VOL. XIV.-8.

on the second morning, while the air was yet cool
and the dew on the grass, they set out with their
bleating flock for home. They proceeded leisurely,
letting the young sheep nibble occasionally by the
wayside; and when one appeared tired and lagged
too much, they picked it up and tumbled it into
the wagon. At eleven o'clock they stopped to feed
the horse and eat their own luncheon at a roadside
spring, and by the middle of the afternoon they
arrived home triumphantly with their little flock.
Nothing interests boys on a farm so much as
something of their own to take care of and hope
for profit from; and Uncle Todd's gift proved in
many ways a benefit, not only to the brothers, but
to the whole Bamberry household. It served to
cure Burton of his restlessness; and from that time
Todd, the second son (named after his uncle),
began to show an interest in farm matters, which
had never had the least attraction for him before.
And the flock was a bond of union between the
five boys, making them not only better brothers,
but better sons.
Mr. Bamberry was to have the wool in return for
pasturage and fodder; but the sheep and their
increase were to belong to the boys. The flock
prospered, numbering eleven the second year (in-
cluding two pairs of twins), and eighteen the third,
not counting two or three lambs which the boys
had fattened for the table and sold to their father
for a good price.
As a protection against dogs, the boys had built
a high pen of unplaned boards, on the edge of





the pasture where the flock ranged in summer.
Into this fold the sheep were enticed every evening
by a little salt or a few handfuls of beans, which they
learned to expect, and came for so regularly, that
it was very little trouble to shut them up for the
night. If not already at the wicket, when one of
the young shepherds appeared at dusk, his cheery
call, "Ca-day! Ca-day !" or "Nan Nan! Nan! "
would bring the sheep scampering over the hills
and crowding into the inclosure. Then
they were left to lick the salt or nibble at
the beans in the troughs, and the wicket
was shut for the night. _-
All went well until, one Sep-
tember evening of that third year, >-

calling "Ca-day! Ca-day! Nan! Nan! Come,
Nan as loud as he could.
Getting no response, he hurried on, looking
behind stone-heaps and old stumps, and in the
corners of fences, until suddenly he saw flit away
before him something which he mistook for a
sheep. But no! it was a dog. It disappeared
almost immediately in the darkness, and Johnny
stood trembling with fear.


/, ,i :

Johnny, then aged
ten, went to put up
the sheep. Hefound
them already run-
\ ") ning to the pen, and
M he noticed that they
I -' appeared frightened.
Having pacified
IvI./ 1 them with the con-
"-"- tentsofhis little pail,
he passed by the
troughs, to see if they were all there. A count,
carefully repeated, showed him that a sheep and a
lamb were missing.
Then he went out and called, but heard no an-
swering bleat, and saw no sheep or lamb coming
over the. shadowy slopes in the twilight. Fearing
some danger to them, he ran to the summit of the
hill, and looked off into the dim hollows beyond,

He immediately ran home and told his brothers,
who went with pitchforks, a lantern, and a gun,
to find the missing members of the flock. They
were soon found, not far from the spot where
Johnny had seen the dog; and two more dogs,
or the same dog and another, darted away at the
approach of the lantern, and disappeared before
Todd could bring the gun to his shoulder.
The sheep and lamb were both dead, the mother
having perhaps sacrificed her life in trying to
protect her young, instead of cantering away with
the rest of the frightened flock. Even if there had
been no other evidence, the mangled throats of
the victims betrayed that the slaughter was the
work of dogs.
The boys were greatly excited; and as they
dragged the slain creatures homeward, across the
dreary pasture, Johnny exclaimed bitterly:
"That was my little pet, the prettiest lamb of
the whole flock "
".I thought dogs killed sheep only at night,"
said Will, the fourth son, who carried the lantern.
"So did I," said Burt. "And it's a pretty
pass we 've come to, if penning our sheep at night
wont answer, and they can be dogged and killed
before it is fairly dark, and almost under our eyes!
I believe one of those curs Was Judge Mason's."
"I thought one was Haniman's miserable
mongrel," said Todd.
Mr. Bamberry was hardly less exasperated than
the boys when they reached home. with the bad
news. But he said:


\ --<--<" '
^\^ ^ -


It 's about what I expected. There 's no way
to keep sheep safe from dogs in this neighborhood,
unless you watch 'em or pen 'em day and night.
And now the trouble 's begun, I 'm afraid you '11
have enough of it."
"We '11 see about some of those dogs!" said
Burton angrily.
"That will be of no use," said his father. "You
can't trace 'em; and there '11 be worse trouble if
you touch any man's dog without positive proof of
his guilt."
Burt whispered to Todd, and taking the lantern,
they went over to call on the Haniman boys, to
tell them of their loss. The Hanimans listened
with interest and sympathy, but when Todd said,
" I think your dog was one of them," they cried out
indignantly against so absurd a suspicion.
"Our Prince?" said Joe Haniman. "Why,
he 's the gentlest, kindest, truest dog in the world 1
Here, Prince !" And he began to whistle.
"He goes with our sheep, and protects 'em,"
said Joe's brother Bob. "You could n't get him
to hurt one; if you should set him on a sheep, he
would only just catch and hold it."
"You could n't have seen him," Joe stopped
whistling to say. "He 's always at home; I saw
him not half an hour ago. Here, Prince -here
he is, now," as the gentlest, kindest, truest dog in
the world came bounding to his side. "There!
does he look like a dog that would kill sheep? "
He certainly did not; and Todd was easily con-
vinced that he had been mistaken. Prince was a
long-legged, tawny mongrel, and there were per-
haps fifty dogs in the county that might be taken
for him in the dusk.
The Bamberry boys next went to call on Judge
Mason, Burt saying that he himself had not been
half so sure of the Haniman dog as he was of
the judge's.
They found the judge kind and candid, but in-
clined to scoff at the notion that his Roland could
be guilty of so grave an offense.
"Where is he now?" Burt inquired.
I don't know," said the judge. He 's about
the place, somewhere; I saw him not ten minutes
since. He may have slipped off, to avoid being
shut up for the night in the woodshed; he does
sometimes. But he 's the most harmless dog-
you know him."
"I know him only too well," replied Burt.
"And I 'm confident I saw him to-night."
"Pooh! pooh! don't be too hasty," said the
judge, puttinghis hand on Burt's shoulder. "Could
you swear that as a fact you really saw him ?"
No," Burt admitted; "but "
You are not certain; and even if you did
see him, that fact never would convince me that

Roland had killed your sheep. Why, boys, I 've
such confidence in that noble dog that I 'm not
afraid to offer fifty dollars for every sheep killed
in this county, if he can be proved to have been
in any way concerned in killing or mangling one."
"It may be hard to prove. But I should like to
see your dog now," said Todd.
"Well, you can see him; he can't be far away."
And the judge called, but called in vain; no
Roland appeared. "He 's afraid of the woodshed,"
said his master with an indulgent laugh. Can't
blame him. That dog 's very cunning!"
The boys went to the houses of two or three
other neighbors who kept dogs, but got no satis-
faction anywhere.
I knew just how it would turn out," said their
father, on their return home. "No man will
admit that his dog kills sheep, though you should
canvass the country. The only way is for one of
you to keep in sight of the flock during the day,
and then pen them early."
The boys resolved to act by this advice, and
make the best of their misfortune. But worse was
yet to come.
On the second morning after this, on going to
let out the flock, Henry was astonished by what
he saw. Five sheep had been killed in the night,
and lay dead in the pen with their throats man-
gled. The others started and huddled into cor-
ners at the slightest sound or motion, showing that
they had been subjected to a recent great fright
and disturbance.
Henry did not open the wicket, but limped
homeward as fast as he could; and it was not long
before his brothers were with him on the spot.
For a while, not much was to be heard but mut-
tered vengeance. Todd and Will were for going
off at once and seeking for evidence of sheep-
killing among all the dogs in town-traces of their
recent feast must be discovered on some of them;
but Burt said:
I 've tried that once; and, as father says, it 's
of no use. The best way is to keep still, and think
of some plan to get even with them."
"We must do something soon," said Todd, or
we shall lose all our sheep, now that the brutes
have had a taste of them. I thought this pen was
high enough, and close enough, to protect them
against all dogs, big or little."
It must be a very small dog that could crawl
between these boards," said Henry; "and a very
long-legged one that could jump over. I would n't
have believed any dog in the world could clear
such a fence "
"The dogs that killed those sheep certainly got
over, and I 'm sure there was more than one,"
said Burt. None that could crawl through would


be apt to have strength or courage to attack a
flock. Boys, look here "
"Scratches, as sure as fate!"said Henry. "See
here! and here!"
Marks on the boards were found, indicating that
attempts to get over had been made by dogs that
had left the prints of their claws on the fence,
either in leaping up or in falling back. Places,
too, -were discovered, where the lower ones had
been clawed and gnawed, as if in efforts to get
"I'11 tell you, boys!" cried Todd, "there's
been a whole pack of dogs here Some have got
over, and the rest could n't. Some have tried to
work through."
"Sheep-killing dogs go in packs, like wolves,"
said Burt. When one discovers a flock open to
attack, it seems as if he went and told the others.
Constant watching, after that, is the only thing
that can save a single one of that flock. It is just
as father has told us all along; and all the com-
fort we shall get out of him will be, It's what I
expected; now, maybe you believee what I say.'
What are we going to do? "
"I believe," said Henry, "we can trap the dogs,
just as I have heard of farmers trapping wolves in
old times."
I've thought of that," said Todd. "It will
be better than trying to kill them off by poisoning
some of the meat and leaving it for them to eat."
Say nothing to anybody, boys," said Burt;
"but let us set quietly to work, and rebuild this
pen in such a way that any dog that wants to get
in can do so without much trouble. We '11 have
it harder for hin to get out, I tell you !"
They found some comfort in talking over the
plan and anticipating the results. The living
sheep were let out, and the dead ones left in the
pen, which before night was made considerably
higher. -And on the side toward the pasture, at
which the dogs had evidently got over, one sec-
tion of the fence was made to slant inward toward
the top, so that dogs could easily run up and leap
over, while it would be impossible for the "long-
est-shanked cur in creation," as Todd said, "to
jump back again."
That evening, after having been watched by one
of the boys all day, the living sheep and lambs
were driven to the shed and shut in; but the dead
sheep were left in the pen, and the wicket was
made fast. Then the boys withdrew, to await
anxiously what might happen over night.
They feared that, dogs being probably more
knowing than wolves, it might not be easy to catch
them in such a trap; and then, when it was too
late to go back to the pen, they began to think
over and discuss all the possibilities of the marau-

ders getting out again, even if caught. But there
was nothing to be done before morning except to
sleep, if they could.
They had youth and health, and they slept,
notwithstanding their excitement. But at the
first streak of day, Burt and Todd were up; and
their whispers, as they hurriedly dressed, in the
great farm-house garret, awoke their brothers.
Ten-year-old Johnny was the last to get his sleepy
eyes unsealed and tumble out of bed; and with
some of his clothes on and the rest in his hands,
he followed the others down the dim stairs, and
out into the cool, gray September morning.
The boys looked first to see that the sheep in the
shed had not been molested; then they hastened
on to the fold which they had converted into a
trap. Lame Henry, whom even little Johnny
outstripped in that eager race, hobbled behind;
while Todd, the best runner, was the first to reach
the pen. He looked through the fence. There
was a pause, and silence of a few seconds, broken
only by the sounds of feet hurrying behind him.
Then he turned and flung up his hands, excitedly,
shouting back at his brothers:
"We 've got 'em! we 've got 'em! Come,
quick!" He beckoned frantically, and, turning
again to look into the pen, almost went into con-
vulsions of gleeful triumph as Burt and Will and
Johnny came clattering to the spot.
Then Henry, still in the rear, but watching
sharply what'was taking place at the pen, saw the
others go into similar convulsions, as one by one
they peeped between the rails; and finally he
himself followed the prevailing custom, as he came
up and took a look.
And well might the young owners of those
slain sheep exult! Never before, I am sure, did a
sheep-fold in a region rid of wild beasts present
so amazing a spectacle.
Dogs At first sight, it seemed almost full of
them. There were twenty-three by actual count
(and this is no fiction); dogs of nearly all colors,
shapes, and sizes, known the country round: surly
bull-dogs, restless fox-hounds, and meeching mon-
grels, with cringing tails.
There were several neighbors' dogs that the boys
knew; among them, the kindest, gentlest, truest
dog that ever was,"-Haniman's Prince,-and
Judge Mason's "noble" Roland! There were also
dogs that none of the Bamberries remembered ever
to have seen before. There were even three or
four half-breed shepherd dogs, that had leftunhurt
their own masters' flocks to prey upon the flocks
of their neighbors.
Roland was a little too cunning for his own
good!" chuckled Will. The woodshed he hates
so would have been better for his health last night."

I 16




The dead sheep had been partly devoured,
observing which, Todd remarked:
"I thought dogs were more knowing than
wolves; but they say wolves, caught in such a
trap, never will touch a sheep until they find a safe
way out again."
There was an animated discussion as to what
should be done with so many dangerous members
of the community. Todd thought they ought to

They know they are caught, and will probably
get punished; that's all their conscience amounts
to," said Will, who strongly advocated the shoot-
ing policy.
It looks like a dog-show !" exclaimed Johnny,
walking around to get a good view of all the slink-
ing and cowering curs.
From that Burt took a hint.
A dog-show it is, and a dog-show it shall be !



shoot them all, and then call upon the owners to
pay damages.
We '11 have the damages," said Burt, and
I 've no doubt most of the dogs deserve to be
killed; but I prefer to let the owners do the killing.
Some are valuable dogs; and it's more their mas-
ters' fault than their own that they have been
allowed to run loose, and get into temptation,
along with bad company. They have been simply
acting out their original dog-nature."
Yes; but the way they act," said Todd, "shows
they have some conscience about such things, and
know that they have been doing wrong."

We '11 have some fun out of this thing, boys, and
maybe some money to pay us for all our trouble
and loss."
The idea became immediately popular.
"Admission, ten cents; children under twelve
years old, half price," laughed Henry.
Owners of dogs contributed, to be put on the
free list," said Todd.
'Contributed' is good!" cried Burt, with grim
"So is 'free list,'" added Will. "Perhaps
we 'd better offer prizes !"
That might be going a little too far; we must

x886. ]



draw the line somewhere," observed Todd, dryly.
Any owner who will come forward like a man,
pay damages, and take his animal away, may see
the show for nothing. How's that, boys ?"
All right," replied Burt. "But now, about
the damages ?"
I say, make every man that has a dog in this
show pay a round ten dollars," said Will; or else
kill his dog."
"And prosecute him, under the law," added
Todd. Boys, we have control of the whole affair
, now."
That 's true," assented Burt. "' And for that
very reason we should be careful."
Temper justice with mercy," observed Henry.
The matter was talked over with their father,
who said, as he came and looked into the pen,

"Well done well done, boys! a good catch, a
wonderful catch, I declare But he objected to a
part of their plan.
It's fair and right," he said, "to make every
man whose dog is found here pay a round sum
for him, say, five dollars. But I'm afraid it will
look a little too much like a money-making job on
our part if you charge anything for admission to
the show."
The boys thought he was right; and though
they were reluctant to give up that advantage,
they concluded to have the fun without the-profit,
and make the show free to the public.
After breakfast, while Henry and Johnny re-
mained to watch the captives, with a loaded gun
and plenty of ammunition, Burt and Todd and
Will set off on horseback; riding in different direc-




tions, to notify all owners of dogs within a radius
of six or eight miles to come and claim their
property, and, incidentally, they invited everybody
to the show.
One of the first persons Todd called upon was
Judge Mason, whom he found in his peach-orchard.
Good-morning, Judge Mason," he said, cheer-
fully, from his horse. Is your dog about the place
this morning?" .
Well! hm!" coughed the judge, "I sup-
pose so. I think I saw him." He was not a man
who would tell an untruth; and he must have
imagined that he had seen Roland very recently.
"Was he shut in the woodshed last night? "
Todd asked.
"I 've no doubt of it; I gave orders that he
should be," said the judge. "Any more trouble
with your sheep ?"
Instead of answering this question, Todd asked
"Do you remember your offer of fifty dollarsfor
every sheep killed in the county, if your dog was
proved to have been concerned in killing or man-
gling one ?"
"I believe I did say that, I know Roland so
well! exclaimed the judge. "Why?
"Because," said Todd, with a gleaming smile,
"according to that, you owe us three hundred
and fifty dollars."
What! what! what! said the judge.
"It is no mere.suspicion this time," said Todd.
" If you have seen your noble and harmless dog
this morning, you've seen him in the trap we set.
for him, where I just left him, shut 'up 'with the
carcasses of five more sheep, killed night before
last. That makes seven in all--three hundred
and fifty dollars!" he repeated, with a very grim
sort of laugh.
"Todd Bamberry! said the judge, explosively,
"it's impossible !"
Seeing is believing," rejoined Todd. Wont
you come over, please, and see for yourself? "

".Then you boys caught him and put him there "
declared the judge, looking very red and angry.
There are twenty-two other dogs with him,"
said Todd. Could we have caught them all and
shut them up together? We must have had a
lively night's work if we did "
"Well! well!" said the judge, "I 'm as-
tounded. I '11 go over and see about it."
"Do, if you please. Father is waiting to talk
with the owners who come to take their dogs away.
We '11 let the noble Roland off for a trifle less than
three hundred and fifty!" And Todd galloped away.
Burt, meantime, had seen the Haniman boys,
and notified them of Prince's capture. So the
three went the rounds of the neighborhood, and
far beyond, spreading the news, which created an
extraordinary sensation, rememembered to this
day in all that part of the country.
The show was -well patronized that afternoon,
men and boys flocking from all parts to see the
catch of twenty-three sheep-killers, secured by the
Bamberry boys in one night. Visitors were com-
ing and going all the afternoon ; and fifteen of them
led away dejected-looking curs, with tails between
their legs and ropes around their necks.
At night, eight of the dogs remained unclaimed;
and for five of them no.owners ever appeared. They
were accordingly shot. How many of the others
shared the same fate, -at the hands of masters who
despaired of their reform, the boys never knew.
For most of the eighteen that were redeemed
they received five dollars each; but for a few they
got only a part, in cash, of the penalty demanded,
and were ever able to collect the whole. The
total sum which they realized was a little over
sixty-seven dollar's; and that they considered suffi-
cient to cover past damages and some future risks.
They kept their sheep-pen built in the same
way, but never again caught any dogs, nor lost any
more sheep: from canine depredations. Their flock
prospered, and their father was obliged at length
to acknowledge that the experiment was a success.




here orvce weas a. great bg squash vine.
f wern spreacdinr o'er the round ;
St covered all the little plants
And thins that grew- around
" -ust' like Ltb;
nd it bore such -reat b{g squashes
Tat the, children came one clay /
nand dclug -a cave in one 'f rh- :-'II
And, there' they used to play__
\ us" [ike tis !

K; I/I

0 that squash ju-st Kepc on $ro'win
T 11 at last the children cried ; -'
Lets brngc our beds out here to-ni ht,
cArd ve ca- sleep i inside



ut qtrte early n-im the mo-r\n;n,
WhdiIe the chkldreri sleep was souyd,
SThe Tarrner, he came our to see
squashes bicr and nd -
Just like thIs z >7

v'e been thirdsins ,-aid there ar'mer
Would be quite / enevouz thing
F' I should se4 this qreett )ig squash
_qA a present ~ t


they bro~ t the sr~e farm Wa~n
But th~ey had to tu, &nd .aul
TOget thett b!2, squash saflei~' in.
ZArid nrot to let it fall



len they took it to the palace ;
,And the farmer went alone -
The good man felt o pleased and proud
HeT sand a merry sona.
usr like this '

ul in spite ofP all the jo.ltn -
)And the sinSing, and the rest, ~
Those. children slept a4 quietly
tAJs birdies in a -nesr!


^' hen they drove iLp to the palace ,
There was wodnoxe and surprise; -
The King threw down his golden crown,.
And stared and rubbed hik eyes
Just like thsi


Vken. they bore it to tfhe "Ktchen ,
,',ut the cook exclaimed with tears,
r,P I should make it into pies
Would take me twenty years



row tihe-K I. was in the parlor,
Iq faiting pleasantly Ar pie .
Out when they brouoht-that message -back
ire Plashed rom- ouIt his eyS

ha T ose ,.and sought the kitchen
A-hd se spaKe in thunder-tone;
Q-icK! maKe those pies thou miscreant ,
Or in a dungeon roanl! ----

.-- -- _-, .

.en the friQhtened cook -an, th-erblirn
-SlTO put bn his lar4e st pot
le up the wood he-. cried aloud;
SAnd make the oven hot i

th hnis .fe so brightly gleamin '
U;Rc3ty 1'&ed in. his hand., rLas 5b
e' climbed upon. that monstrous
Aand there he took his. stand!
Just like rhis! .




ur Let happened just that moment,
SThat those sleepy girls and boys
Awaked at last, and out they came ,
,stronished at the nolie .

h! the cook flung off his apron.
A(Bknd he tore hi! cap in twoS,- ;
The scullions ran to tell the inb g
What a. hullabaloo i

ut the children oh, the children!
They were not at all afraid; -
They ate treat bowlS of bread and milK
And lots oP marmalade !V

ame the King and Quee' to view them,
GOOAll the court was there beside.
"h, children, dear, how came you. here ?'
The Qu'e'en delighted cried !
/ < ^ust li{e t'is !
K // /// -

\\~\V \\


i. u11 OF A SQUASH. 125

~'hen. the chfidrerx, told their ibor'z
'~1Ah-n 6hey beseed -on berded hnee; -
good Wnq anrd OL'A .'plelae send uw -home,
A&Tvd we -will grate:fi be! "

dIe carpern(et wa urnrnoned,
h he brought hi: toolh along -
He sawed f Pur -Wheele of' pear-tree wood,
A5nd made them Stout and ,trons;

n thegSr eat big squas)sh thie\ mailed Lhern
Q uo he carpenter: done,

toth the.i ps!~ Onr out my hor$e.
And the childra,. cri-id-Y%& 1-"` tull'

o lhcv liarrme-ss.id 0-ic zti bor"s I
S -,nd th& pil-d. Ehxc cj)i1rL i u. n i
.And horn~ ch-, y irt t Si-rcr ccsrxnt F
Am~id a meriy Jir,


,Q9a 1

mr i rrn m anr a --v




NED JOYCE was always a jolly fellow. He was
jolly on the hottest day in summer and on the
wettest day in spring; but in winter he was jollier-
than ever. Particularly jolly was he one tingling
cold twentieth of December evening. In fact, you
may safely say that he was then the jolliest man to
be found either in New York or Brooklyn.
Why, his rosy cheeks glowed, and his blue eyes
twinkled with positively hilarious happiness, and
he looked so much like an overgrown Christmas
cherub, that passers-by glanced back at him with a
comfortable sort of smile, and then went on again
with a new stock of pleasant thoughts as if, after
encountering him, a body could think no other
kind of thoughts.
It was just so every winter, as Christmas came
around. The nearer Christmas came the jollier
Ned grew, until at last he was so full of good-will
to everybody that his chuckles and smiles be-
came infectious, and the stoniest-hearted stran-
gers would find themselves smiling back at him.
No one knows for how many gifts he was respon-
sible, for, as everybody knows, it is impossible for
the meanest man in the world to resist the Christ-
mas spirit if once it get into his heart. And it
will get into his heart the moment a sympathetic
smile warms it. You see, the Christmas spirit is
always on the watch-for such chances, and I be-
lieve that it followed jolly Ned Joyce wherever he
went, knowing how people's hearts warmed at the
very sight of him. And so it happened that often,
during Christmas week, careless, worldly-minded
men, who had never thought of giving a present,
would meet him, smile kindly at him, and then
rush away and buy presents for sons and daugh-
ters or nieces and nephews.
But of all this Ned Joyce had never a suspi-
cion, for he was the modestest kind of a man. He
scattered his smiles right and left, on boot-black
or bank president impartially, and went his way
unconscious of the good he was doing.
And this is just what he did that particular twen-
tieth day of December, as he stepped along as
briskly as ever his fat little legs could carry him.
He was in a hurry, partly because he was going
home, partly because it was so very cold, and
partly because he was always in a hurry.
He. lived in Brooklyn, and he should have taken
the cars across the bridge on so bitter a night--
and the snow falling fast, too. But he knew very
well he could never stand in the crowd on the cars

without talking to somebody.; and he was certain
that if he did talk, he would surely tell all about
what made him so very, very happy, and that, of
course, would not do. For who wanted to know his
private affairs?
Naturally enough you want to know why he was
so very, very happy, and you shall know. The
firm for which he worked had, that very evening,
given him twenty-five dollars for a Christmas pres-
ent; He had expected twenty dollars, for he had
always had that much given him; and he had,
days and days before, arranged for the spending
of it. But now he had five dollars more, and for
the first time in his life he .felt the delicious inde-
cision which he knew every millionaire must feel
as to how to spend his money.
All the way across the bridge he tried to think
of the best way of spending that five dollars. Of
course, if he had been a prudent man, he would
have put it away in the savings-bank; but it is just
as well to confess at once that Ned Joyce never was
a very prudent man, and that at Christmas time
he was not prudent at all.
He had not decided about the five dollars when
he stepped off the bridge on the Brooklyn side.
Still that was no reason why he should prolong his
walk instead of going straight home. But he did.
He gave the vest-pocket that held the precious
twenty-five dollars a sounding thump with his
pudgy hand, chuckled very gleefully and very
loudly, and turned into Fulton street and walked
up it, with all its merry lights winking back quiet
Christmas jokes at him.
What do you suppose the silly fellow was going
to do? Exactly what he had done every night for
the past two weeks -look into the store windows
and gloat over the presents he was going to buy
for the three little Joyces snug at home in the little
brown house.
But first there was the butcher's. He must stop
and find out if George Stout had got him that six-
teen-pound turkey. Sixteen pounds! Yes, sir;
sixteen pounds! Oh, well! perhaps it was a bit
extravagant; but what of it? Christmas was
Christmas with Ned Joyce, and he not only loved
to look at a plump brown turkey himself,-but,
what was more important, he counted on the joy-
ous demonstrations of Roby and Essie when they
saw it kicking up its heels as it came, all sizzling
and snapping, out of the oven.
Sixteen pounds! yes, sir. And it would have



been twenty, only the oven would not hold it.
Why, it was worth the price only to hear the
shouts of surprise from Essie and Roby, while
Betty, with all her twelve years and motherly
dignity, would try to keep a straight face, all the
time twinkling out sparks of fun across the table
at her father !
Oh, well! He just had to laugh right out in
the street at the very thought of it all. And he
rubbed his hands merrily together as he peered
through the frosted window of George Stout's
butcher-shop to see if there was a specially large
turkey hanging up there.
And as he peered and chuckled and slapped his
vest-pocket, he noticed a little girl by his side, also
peering through the window. Just about his Bet-
ty's age she was, but, dear me! not nearly so plump.
"Choosing your Christmas Turkey, eh?" he
demanded, beaming pleasantly on her.
She turned a pinched face up at him and then,
with a pitiful sort of timidity, drew away, saying
in a low voice:
"No, sir."
"No harm in it. Bless my soul! No harm in
it. Just what I 'm doing."
Now, Ned Joyce had a pleasant voice. It was
full and round, and seemed to have a lurking laugh
in it. .As-he spoke to the little girl, it was pleas-
anter and heartier than ever, for it had struck him
at once that there was misery in the face before
him, and he was sympathetic in a moment-not
dolefully, but cheerily sympathetic however. Evi-
dently the little girl felt his friendliness, for a smile
flitted over her lips.
Why," went on Ned Joyce, I begin to think
of my turkey weeks before it 's time to eat it.
Yes, indeed, I do. I 'm very fond of turkey, I
am. Are n't you?"
"Yes, sir, I guess so."
"You guess so! Bless my soul! don't you
know for sure ? "
S"No, sir," answered the little girl, drawing back
timidly at his vehemence.
S"Tum-tum, hm-hm," hummed Ned, staring at
the little girl in an uncomfortably fixed way.
."You don't mean-hm-hm-You don't-Bless
my soul, did you never taste turkey ?"
"Not since I was a little girl."
"A little girl! Oh! (Does n't know how it
tastes!" murmured Ned, under his breath. "My
goodness! What a fine chance! She shall know;
she shall know.")
He gave his vest-pocket such a vigorous thump
that the little girl started.
"See here!" said he, putting his hand under
her chin and holding her face up so that he could
look into it. "That's dreadful. You must nev er

tell that to anybody. I 'm going to give you a
turkey, and you must take it home to your mother
and have her cook it for Christmas dinner. Oh,
it 's all right, I 'm Santa Claus. People don't
generally know it, but I am; and it 's my business
to see that everybody has turkey for Christmas.
Bless my heart! Come in here, and just say to
your mother that Santa Claus sent it. Never
tasted turkey! "
"Oh, sir, how good you are! But I have n't
any mother."
"Have n't you, though? That 's bad. Tell
your father, then."
"I have n't any father either; only little
j amie."
"Only little Jamie, eh ? That's bad, that's very
bad. Who takes care of you, then? asked Ned.
We take care of ourselves. Jamie is n't well,
but he crochets beautifully. 'I crochet, too; and
we get along."
Ned Joyce was, now more than ever, sure that
his extra five dollars had come to him by way of a
special Providence. Here was just the chance to
use it. And he did use it.
He bought a'turkey and a bunch of celery and a
pint of cranberries.
"That's for your dinner," he said. But how
will you get it cooked ?"
The little girl told him of a kind neighbor that
would gladly attend to that; and then he went to a
store near by and bought her a warm hood, a pair
of mittens, and a pair of rubbers, and still he had
a dollar left out of the providential five.
Now, let's go get something for Jamie," he said.
"But stop! How do we know what he wants.
Do you know?"
"It '11 be a book, I'm sure."
"Oh, ho! a book, eh? But what book? We
must n't get the wrong book. That would n't do.
See here! Take these bundles. That 's it. Now
there 's a dollar for Jamie's book. Find out just
what he wants, and get it for him, and say Santa
Claus sent it. Good-night! Merry Christmas !"
And giving the spot over his vest-pocket a
sounding clap, Ned went off at a trot, laughing
and chuckling harder than ever.
Such spirits as he was in after that Every time
he came to a slide on the sidewalk, he would take
it," in "spread-eagle style, with a jolly laugh,
and then invite the boys to have a crack at him
as he ran off. And every, time a snow-ball struck
him, he would laugh louder than ever.
Well, just fancy him getting home to the little
brown house. What a romping-time! Roby was
six-Essie was four. They climbed up on him
at once, and he tumbled them and rolled them
about as if they had been made of India rubber,


and motherly little Betty all the while 'putting
on the supper and smiling demurely at them as
if they were so many frolicsome kittens.
All through supper and all through the going to
bed it was just the same merry time. It is a wonder
Roby and Essie did not giggle all.night. But they


did not. They just said their prayers, put their
heads on their pillows, and the house was still.
Papa Ned and Betty sat in front of the cozy
grate fire smiling lovingly at each other until it was
quite certain that the little ones were sound asleep.
Then Papa Ned could not keep still any longer,
and he told Betty all about his good fortune-how
he had received the extra five dollars, and how he
had spent it on the poor little girl.
Of course, Betty approved. It seemed to her
that he had done the only thing he could do,

and it certainly did look as if he had received the
extra five dollars on purpose to make the little girl
and Jamie know what a Christmas really could be
And to think," said he, slapping his vest-
pocket gratefully, "that I could do so much and
still have my twenty -
my twenty my "
He felt in the vest-
pocket he had so often
slapped, and repeated
"my twenty" several
times over. Then a se-
rious look fell on his
jolly face, and he felt
in the other pocket, say-
ing my twenty more
Slowly. Then a scared
look took the place of
the serious one, and he
felt in both pockets at
Then he sprang to his
Feet and felt in his trou-
sers-pockets; then in his
coat-pockets; then in
every one of his pock-
ets; then he fell on his
knees on the floor and
began to search.
Betty asked for no ex-
planation. She put the
lamp on the floor and
searched too. After a
while Ned Joyce looked up
and groaned:
"I must have given it
to the little girl."
And you don't know where she
lives ?" asked Betty.
No," said her father.
Oh, dear! But, Papa, maybe she '11 be wait-
ing for you on the corner where you left her."
Maybe she will. She looked like a good girl,"
said Ned, more cheerfully.
He put on his hat and coat and hurried out.
He was gone.an hour, and came back looking
very dismal. You would not have believed jolly
Ned Joyce could look so.


THE little brown house Ned Joyce lived in had
been a country cottage once; but that was long
ago. The city of Brooklyn had grown up all
around it, and there it stood, now, nestling so
snugly in among the big brick houses, that tired



city people always felt like turning in at the gate
as if they were sure of finding rest there.
The Joyces could have filled every nook and
corner of the little house, which was only two sto-
ries high, but as they could not afford to do that,
they occupied only the lower floor and rented the'
upper story to a Mr. Job Skeens.
Now Job Skeens was as unlike Ned Joyce as you
can imagine. There was, indeed, just such a
difference between them as there was between
the parts of the house they lived in. The lower
story was broad and low and cheery-looking;
sowas Ned Joyce. The
upper story, having a
gable roof, was narrow
and peaked and gave
you an uncomfortable
feeling of being full of
sharp corners to bump
against,-for all the
world like Job Skeens.
He was very tall and
very lean. His neck
was so long that it kept
his head lifted high up
above his coat collar;
his wrists were long,
and his hands were
bony, and his laugh
was thin, dry, and sar-
castic-very different
from jolly Ned's.
The Joyces had very
little to do with Mr.
Skeens. They had once
asked him to take sup-
per with them and after-
ward spendthe evening,
but his queer looks.and
awkward ways so puz-
zled and disturbed them
that the experiment
was never tried again. I MUST
Of course, then, you
caribelieve he was not the man Ned Joyce would
choose for a comforter in his trouble. And, in
fact, he would not even have spoken to him about
it, had it not so happened that he met him at the
gate next morning as both were going to business.
"Well! You don't look happy this morning,
Mr. Joyce," said Mr. Skeens, in his vinegary
voice, seeming positively pleased to see his usually
jolly neighbor looking dismal.
"I don't feel happy, either, Mr. Skeens," an-
swered Ned, dolefully.
"Sickness in the family? eh ?"
It seemed to Ned that Mr. Skeens asked this
VOL. XIV.-9.

question with an air of pleased expectation, and,
really, he felt like striking him for it. However,
he restrained himself, and answered shortly:
"No, sir, thank yoi we all are well."
With that he would have left Mr. Skeens; but
that disagreeable fellow would not be -left, and he
so pestered Ned with his questions, that at last the
poor fellow told him the whole story. Mr. Skeens
listened with many a grimace, and, when Ned was
through, he exclaimed in his chuckling way:
"Why don't you draw some money out of the
bank? You'll never see your twenty dollars again."


I have no money in the bank," said Ned, sadly.
"Then you can't have any Christmas presents,
eh?" suggested Mr. Skeens.
"Not unless I find my money," Ned replied.
Oh, you 'll never find it! said Mr. Skeens,
adding with his most unpleasant laugh: "And
your presents were all selected, too, eh?"
"They were, sir," said Ned, indignantly; "but
I don't see anything in that to laugh at."
"Of course not-he-he--of course not. And
you '11 have to countermand the turkey, too."
And Mr. Skeens seemed positively to glow with



"Good-morning, sir," said Ned, -warmly; "I
could n't laugh at any man's misfortunes."
But Mr. Skeens laughed many, times more that
day, in his sarcastic style, as he sat in the dingy
cellar, not far from Fulton street, where he kept a
second-hand book-store. But finally: something
happened which made him chuckle 'with even
greater delight.
Late in the afternoon a little girl came in and asked
him if he had a copy of.the "Arabian Nights."
"Yes," he replied; but he did notmove to getit
for her. :
May I see it?" she asked timidly..
"'Third shelf, fifh book," he said, pointing to
the place,
She reached up, took the book down, and
opened it.
It has n't any pictures," she said.
** I did n't 4-:' it -iid." said Mr. Skeens.
I want one wi.h picture:," she said.
"Fourth book further on, same shelf. Price,
,svent.-fi e cent," s iid the bookislltr grnml.,
glancing at her cer his specita.le:.
Oh, yes! said the girl, upn-rin, the b.:. -k.
"I know Jamie would like this be irer." .
These words were said to hei -elf, bitt Mr. Skeens
heard them; and in an instant he was out of his
chair, staring hard at his little customer, For her
appearance and her mention ,of "Jamie recalled
Ned Joyce's story of that morning; rnd nov., as she
turned the leaves oF thci bo':k.I, Mr, Skeen. looking
closely at her, saw that she held in one hand a
twenty-dollar bill,
'"The verysame girl, I wager! :' he exclaimed
under his breath; and, stepping forward, he peered
down into her face and demanded:
Did n't you get that twenty dollars last night
from a. little fat man ?"
Why-ye-yes, sir," she faltered in a ter-
rible fright, "I-I was going to watch for him
"Oh, to be sure! very likely -quite probable.
What's your name? he asked.
Molly Findley, sir. I was going to indeed,
I was. Here is the dollar bill; he gave me this
one and told me to buy the book. He dropped the
other, and I did n't see it at first. Do you know
him ?"
"Know him.? Indeed I do. Here, give me that
money," he demanded. "Or no," he added, as
Molly held back hesitating, yet alarmed, "tell me
where you live. I '11 see him and let him know
whereae can find his money." Mr. Skeens laid
his long fingers on Molly's shoulder. "You
seem like an honest child," he said, "but I think,
after all, I 'd better shut up shop and go along
with you'to see if your story is true."

It was after he had been home with Mollie and had
returned to his cellar, that he gave way to his glee.
What luck hepiped, in his thin voice, "for
me to find his twenty dollars. I '11 see that he
does n't get 'em before Christmas. He would n't
laugh at another man's misfortunes. O no! But
I would. I must have a look at him to-night.
How nice and dismal he did look "
And, true enough, when he went home that
night with Ned. Joyce's twenty-dollar bill in his
pocket, he knocked at the door, and then poked
his head in to say, with a smile :
"Countermanded that turkey, yet ? "
S III. ".. "

SYES, Ned o:, cec had countermanded the turkey,
He had very bravely gone into the butcher-shop,
George, I can't take that turkey- that sixteen-
pounder, you- .
There he broke down, and, with a pathetic wave
of his hand, rushed out into the street. He turned
out of the bright inue. v. t ih a groan, and plunged
d-:.pajrin,gl, u p th, fir; t dark street. He was.afraid
hic i uld See the presents he had so long before
. When he;reached the little brown house, he did
not hurry boisterously in, as was his custom. He
stopped and looked as if he would like to run away.
Three times he put his hand on the gate before
he could summon the courage to open it.
Oh, but it was dreadful when he got inside, and
was seized b, the pectant Robyand Essie for the
usual frolic Of course he. could not spoil their
fun, so he tumbled them and rolled them,, and
laughed laughs that passed current with the babies,
but sounded almost hideous to him;- And when
a hollow, dismal sigh would slip out in spite of
him, he would pass it off for a joke, and try to do
it again in a sportive way.
These sighs, being an entirely new feature of
their fun, pleased Roby and Essie mightily, and
they took to sighing with great gusto.
All this was hard enough to bear, but it was as
nothing compared to what followed when they were
all seated at the table and the conversation turned
upon Santa Claus, and what he was going to give
them. This very topic was the one in which poor
Ned had always before had a great deal of joy.
That night every mention of Santa Claus fell like
a lump of lead on his heart.
It was a marvel how he lived through the days
that came before Christmas without betraying
himself to the babies. Betty would have had him
stop pretending to be jolly with them, but he would
not listen to such a thing.
Mr. Skeens was waiting at the gate the morn-





ing before Christmas when Ned came- out of
the house. If there had been any other way of
getting out, Ned would have turned back; but
as that was the only way, he kept on and tried
to pass Mr. Skeens.
"No news of the money yet, eh?" said the
latter, barring the gate-way by leaning upon it
with his long body.
Not any," said Ned.
Then, I suppose, you wont have much use for
your kitchen to-morrow, eh?"
No, sir," said Ned, mournfully.
"Of course not! Well, I thought I'd have a
dinner-party to-morrow. Think of me having
a dinner-party And I thought that, seeing you
had no turkey nor anything like a Christmas, you
might let me have the use of your stove, eh ?"
Almost anybody else would have refused, but
Ned did not. He said, "Yes." Whereat Mr.
Skeens grinned and went on:
"I 'm going to have quite a party, and my
rooms are a little small, you know. I s'pose you
wont mind letting me use your back room as a
dining-room, eh?"
You may have it."
"And I don't know much about cooking turkey,"
Mr. Skeens went on. "Do you suppose I could
get your Betty, now, to cook mine for me, eh ?"
There was a sudden flash in Ned's mild eye, and
he hesitated a moment. Then he said very gently:
Yes, Betty will cook it for you."
Mr.' Skeens's delight at this assent was so great
as to be inexpressible for more than a minute.
He went through so many of his awkward grins
and gestures that the three children watching at
the window began to feel very uncomfortable.
"My turkey's a big one," he said; "I 'll agree to
match that sixteen-pounder that you had to give
up. I '11 send the things home to-day."
Ned stared at him a moment, and then turned
He 's just trying to make us feel as badly as he
can," he thought.
But there was no need for such an attempt, for
nothing Job Skeens might do could make poor
Ned feel any worse. It was simply impossible to
be more unhappy than was he that Christmas Eve
and night. He dreaded the coming of morning,
when he should see the disappointment of the
babies upon learning that Santa Claus-the Santa
Claus from whom he himself had taught them to
expect Christmas gifts-had passed them by.
But it-made no difference how much he dreaded
it, that morning would come just as morning
always comes. And when it did come, it found him
fast asleep. He had felt so unhappy that he had
not supposed he could sleep at all, but he did.

To be sure, his sleep did not do him much good,
for he had the most harrowing dreams of Roby and
Essie refusing to kiss him because he had deceived
them about Santa Claus; and when, in his sor-
row, he groaned dismally, it seemed as if those
precious babies mocked him in a series of the
most awful groans he had ever heard, in the midst
of which sounded Job Skeens's jeering chuckle,
pitched appallingly high, and prolonged into a
sort of shriek.
But just then he heard Betty's cheery voice.
"Oh, Popsy," she said, "do get up quick. The
most wonderful thing has happened! Don't you
hear Roby and Essie ?"
"Why, to be sure. That's what I took for
groans, I suppose."
Now you can imagine the horror of the
sounds he had heard in his dream; for Roby and
Essie were performing with all their might and
main, the one on a drum and the other on a tin
Very likely," said Betty; "but do come quick,
"What is it?" asked Ned, staring as if he were
not yet sure that he was awake.
"Oh, I can't tell you You must come."
It would be useless-simply useless to try to
describe what Ned Joyce felt or thought when he
looked into the dining-room. And this you will
not doubt when you know what he saw.
The room was literally piled with Christmas
presents. Piled is the only word for it. It was
'just as if Santa Claus had emptied his bundles
right into the room: And there were Roby and
Essie, exactly a- they hid tumbled out of bed,
prancing about fr.n'.'n-L.- thing to another, shriek-
ing and squealing with delight, and all the time
keeping up the drumming and horn-blowing as if
they could:riot stop.
After Ned had vigorously rubbed his eyes, to
make sure that he was awake, he turned to Betty
and stared at her. She stared back.
"Well!" gasped he, "where did they come
"I don't know. I heard the children shouting
and screaming, and came in here, and there they
were with all these things. They say Santa Claus
brought them; but they are truly meant for us, for
here are our names on the bundles."
Ned looked solemn for a moment, then a bright
smile broke over his face, and he beamed on Betty
like his old jolly self, and said with a grateful
quaver in his voice:
"I don't know who sent them, or how they
came here, Betty; but let 's enjoy them and be
Whoever put the things there, or how they could



be put there, was a mystery which only grew
greater as they tried to solve it. But it was evi-
dent that the affair had been carefully planned,
for every one received just the most fitting gifts.
If any one had been specially favored,- perhaps
it was Betty; and it seemed to her that she had
everything she could:possibly w. i I for.
Why," said Ned in amazement, as he exam-
ined all the presents, "I never saw such a Christ-
mas in my life! "
He even decided that the turkey, now, was not
worth a regret, and he declared that he must help
get Mr. Skeens's dinner. Never was there such
fun in the jolly Joyce household as when Ned put
.on abig apron -big for Betty, but small for him-
and installed himself as assistant cook. It is a
wonder Betty did anything right with those three
children under her feet all the time.
But she. did; dear me, yes, she did. Ask any of
Mr. Skeens's guests of that day, if ever they ate a
better dinner thzh that little twelve-year-old cook
prepared for them, But about those guests of Mr.
Skeeris. They ought to be mentioned. Yes, in-
deed, they'ought to be mentioned, at least. Not
that they have anything to do with the story oh,
no But they ought to be mentioned.
They began to arrive at half-past twelve. The
>11 rang, and the Joyces waited to let Mr. Skeens
admit his guests. But the bell rang, and rang,
and he did not come down; so Betty ran to the
door, while Ned hurried off his apron and went
into. the dining-room to, welcome the inhospitable
Mr. Skeens's guests. And how do you suppose
he did it-? The moment he saw them he cried
Why! -why! Bless my soul! "
And a prolonged and joyous oh-h-h !" was the
reception he had. The next moment there was
such a talking as you will never hear outside of the
Joyce house.
The guests were Molly Findley and her little
brother Jamie.
"How did you find me? cried Ned.
'I did n't find you. I was invited here to din-
ner, and I was to give you this."
"This" was an envelope, which Ned tore open
at once. ,Of course, a twenty-dollar bill was inside
of it.
He told me to give it to you," said Molly.
"He ? Who 's he? demanded Ned.
"Why, the gentleman who invited us here.
/' Where is he?" said Molly.
"A -gentleman ? -who invited you ?- Who
can it be ? -What does he look like ? '.asked
Ned. -
"He 's a tall man. He keeps a second-hand
book-store on "

Mr. Skeens !" interrupted Betty, with a shout
of astonishment.
For just one moment, Ned held his head in his
hands as if he were afraid of losing it. Then he
tore out of the door and bounded upstairs and
thumped like mad on Mr. Skeens's door.
"Stop rh.if noisd; Whatd' ye want?" snapped
Mr. Skeens.
"I want you. Open the door!" and Ned
twisted and turned the knob and pushed the door
as if he would stop at nothing to get in.
"I wont open the door. Go 'way!" snarled
Mr. Skeens.
I wont go away. I'll break the door down if
you don't let me in. Indeed I will," shouted Ned.
There was so little doubt that Ned was in earnest,
that Mr. Skeens said:
"Don't be silly, then. Don't be silly."
I wont be silly," cried Ned.
Mr. Skeens had evidently been afraid that Ned
would come after him, and had barricaded the
door; for Ned could Hear him moving chairs and
heavy objects away from it.
All the while, Ned was dancing excitedly up
and down on the landing; and all the children,
with wide-open eyes and mouths, were staring up
at him.
When the door finally opened, Ned gave one
jump and caught the long Mr, Skeens in his arms,
and, somehow or other, got him downstairs and
into the dining-room.
''Now, now-don't be silly. Don't be silly,"
said Mr. Skeens, looking both happy and uncom-
I wont, oh, I wont said Ned, catching one
of Mr. Skeens's ungainly hands and shaking it
vigorously; but I 've found you out. Betty, we 've
found him out-eh, Betty? Roby! Essie! Here's
Santa Claus. Here he is! Just think of it! :*Roby,
Essie, here he is here 's the Santa Claus that gave
you all those fine things."
Betty slipped up to the awkward-looking man and
took his other hand gently in her little hands and
smiled gratefully up into his face.
Roby and Essie, having too little penetration to
discover the meaning of all .the fuss, retreated
together to the other side of the room and stared
silently. "A scheming old Santa Claus, is n't he,
now?" cried Ned, again shaking the bony hand.
The sound rather than the sense of the words
seemed to strike Roby's fancy, for he nodded his
head violently, and cried out with an odd-look on
his face, "Yes, Popsy, that's just what he is,-
a skinny old Santa Claus he said.
Whereupon everybody but Mr. Skeens was hor-
ror-struck. He seemed not to mind it at all, but
spoke up at once:




"Of course," he said, "the chimneys are so
small nowadays it has pulled me all out of shape
getting down them."
Then he chuckled in his peculiar way, which
somehow did not seem forbidding now; and he
smiled at jolly Ned, and they both laughed each
in his owt way -at Roby's innocent little joke.
After which they had dinner as quickly as ever
Betty could serve it, for, come to find out, the guests

How did those Christmas presents get into our
rooms ? "
At this question Mr. Skeens chuckled in his
drollest way, and, looking across the table at Ned,
he drew a key from his pocket and said:
Here 's the key to your back room, sir."
Ned laughed knowingly, and reached out to take
it. But, suddenly checking himself, he withdrew
his hand and said in his most hearty manner:


were only Molly and Jamie and the Joyces. Of "No, thank you. Keep it, my good friend.
course, a plate was put on for Mr. Skeens, though Nobody's door is ever closed to Santa Claus! "
he had not thought before of eating with them.
But, in the midst of the dinner, Ned suddenly Do you know what the Joyces discovered? That
abandoned his knife and fork, leaned back in his Job Skeens, in spite of his queer looks and eccentric
chair, and exclaimed: ways, was as tender-hearted and good-that is
"I 've a bone to pick with you, Mr. Skeens. almost, not quite as good- as Popsy Joyce himself.



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nf blesjominin Tree-e
jj6a tir turveted-rowT opdrroi',.



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et out aistanit -arroWv
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How is it possible to paint the grief of the poor
Seniora, the gentle, affectionate mother on whom
had fallen so heavy a calamity?
First one neighbor and then another rushed in,
ashy pale, terrified, incoherent, bringing ever more
and more dreadful news, as the night came on, of
her losses and of theirs. Upon hearing that her
husband had been killed, and that her children
were missing, the poor soul gave one heartrend-
ing scream, and, fainting, lay as one dead for so
long that she was supposed at one time to have
gone beyond the reach of sorrow. But at last the
dark eyes opened again, and with memory came
anguish unutterable.
Oh, tell me where are they? Oh, my chil-
dren My little ones she cried out to the circle
of sympathizers gathered at the hacienda, as she
paced to and fro weeping and wringing her hands,
or cast herself down on the floor in despair.
When daylight came, she, with old Santiago
and one of the herders, went out into the coun-
try and looked everywhere for some trace of
the children. But hours and hours of search re-
vealed nothing except Juan's hat, which had fallen
off in his encounter with the squaw. Early as it
was, Don Jose's body had been already taken up
by the neighbors. And that afternoon it was borne
away by a small cavalcade of horsemen into Santa
Rosa, where it was buried in the little plot of
ground attached to the Church of the Conception.
Slowly and sadly the days went by for the
Sefiora, days of weeping, of endurance, of patient
toil. For some things she had no heart. The
serafa, bn which she had expended such loving
care, remained unfinished. The flowers, uncared
for, bloomed and spread, or withered and died,
' as the case.might be. There were no songs
now in the hacienda, but every moment of wak-
ing thought with 'the Sefiora was an inarticu-
late prayer for Juan and Juanita.- Of the boy, it
comforted her to remember that he was strong,
active, courageous.. If he were in captivity with

the Indians, he would not suffer as a delicate child
would have done. He might even shield and pro-
tect his little sister. But poor little Juanita -
at thought of her, so young, timid, helpless, the
Sefora's eyes always overflowed.
As for the rancheros who had followed the
Indians, they soon returned. The pursuit of
Comanches by Mexicans at any time, is much like
that of a hawk by a canary, and when the Indians
have the advantage of twelve hours' start in flight,
the pursuers might as well expect to overtake a
So when the rancheros went clattering over the
stony streets of Santa Rosa in the early morning,
the Indians felt themselves already out of danger,
and were leisurely taking their way toward the Rio
Grande, with the intention of crossing that river
and. going up to the head-waters of the Colorado,
in northern Texas.- This was their abiding-place,-
one can scarcely say home, for that word, so full
of sacred and civilized associations, has little in
common with the mountain lair in which those sav-
ages spent the intervals between their murderous
forays. But, like Issachar, these wandering tribes
know where to couch as well as when to spring,
and there is no more beautiful country than that
lying between the two great rivers, the Brazos and
the Colorado, where they enter the Llanos Esta-
cados.* It is a country of bold cautions and lovely
valleys abounding in game,-bears, deer, turkeys,
antelopes,-with wild bees swarming in every rocky
cliff and feeding upon the wild plum, which blooms
there in great variety of color and size, and upon
the wild grape, which perfumes the air for miles
with its delicious odor.
Near one of the many clear lakes that industrious
beavers have created throughout that region (a
tranquil sheet of water, overshadowed by tall cot-
ton-wood trees and graceful willows, with silvery,
many-tinted fish leaping, gliding, winding in its
cool depths) the Comanches came at last to a full
halt, after a journey that had sorely tried their lit-
tle captives. The horses, cattle, and sheep that had
been stolen were turned dut to pasture, as were the

* The Staked Plain.




jaded animals the savages had ridden. There
was nothing to do now but to eat, sleep, rest, and
get ready for another raid on the frontier settle-
ments. The encampment was reached at night,
and the children, half dead with fatigue, were
taken to the lodge of their protector, the old Chief
Shaneco, where they at once dropped off into a
sleep of profound exhaustion that lastedten. hours..
When Juanita opened her eyes next morning, she
was quite dazed, and could not at first make out
where she was. The first object that she saw was
a familiar one. It was Amigo, who had spent the
night curled up at her feet; now advancing,
he poked his nose into her face and began to
lick her right cheek. Juanita pushed him. away
and sat up, rubbing her eyes.. She then began to
look about her, and her glance wandered from the
sleeping Juan to the skins stretched over poles
that formed the walls of the lodge, and to Shaneco
snoring loudly 'opposite, apparently a mere heap
of buckskin and blanket. In a. flash, the past
came back to her, and she was throbbing with
tumultuous emotions,-love, grief, fear;, despair.
So bitter were the memories of her mother, home,
and past happiness, that the tears could not be
kept back, and she cried loud enough to wake
Juan, if not the'chief, although she made several
convulsive efforts at repression.. Juan put. his
arms about her and called, her his "querida'
Aermanita,"* kissed and.embraced her,. and did
all he could to soothe her. Even. Amigo under-
stood that something was wrong, and,. thrusting his
rough head against her shoulder, looked, up intto
her face and whined uneasily;
The truth was that Amigo had. his mi:.i- in,.-
from the first about the Comanchejourney.. When
the children were put upon the horses, he pei 'e.ctl;,
comprehended that it was not. the proper place for
them, and barked furiously for. a while.. But.hav-
ing thus made public.his disapproval of the proceed-
ings, and finding that no one paid. the slightest.
.attention to his remonstrance, he: very sensibly
held his peace; and during the journey that. fol-
lowed, he trotted patiently in the wake of the corm-
pany, determined, no doubt, to be. the guardiann
and protector of Juan and Juanita,. come what
The three friends were still, comforting' one
another by love, expressed as plainly in Amigo's
honest eyes as by Juan's lips, and were still caress-
ing one another, when the squaw glanced in and saw
them. She beckoned to the children to come out-
side. They obeyed, and, picking up a piece of
mezquite wood, she pointed toward a thicket at a
little distance and made them understand that they
were to go there and get the fuel she needed.
The children came back with their arms full

of mezquite, and were then given their first lesson
in Comanche housekeeping, and with many blows
from the squaw were taught how to build a fire
in the Indian fashion. Old Shaneco was never
cruel to the little captives, and was sometimes even
kind, but his .young wife was a shrew, and a hard
taskmistress to two children who had been accus-
tomed to do very much as they pleased, and had
never known what it was to be harshly treated.
They suffered very much, indeed, from the hard-
ships of. their new life, and from homesickness
.and the utter want. of anything like kindness or-
sympathy; but when to these hardships were added
slavery, endless tasks, and constant beatings, it
is no wonder that they were utterly wretched and
felt that they could not bear it.
The poor, foolish little rebels could think of
but one way out of their troubles, and that was to
run away. They ran away accordingly, and were,
of course, almost immediately recaptured, and so
dreadfully punished that they were in no hurry to
repeat. the experiment.. The desire for freedom,
the passionate longing to return home, remained
indeed, and. strengthened as time went on;. but
they had been taught by their recent experience
how completE-l, the,, were in the power of their
enemies, and dimly realized that they would have
to be a great deal-older, wiser, and stronger, before
they could cope successfully with them..
The image of their mother,, alone and ever-sor-
rowful, never :left. the children;: and they were
constantly picturing to themselves a joyful reunion..
They talked of it when they were alone, and to-
gether made their simple'plans for bringing it about.
''I will learn all that I can.from the Indians, and
when we get big we will give them the'slip; and
if they overtake us, I will kill four or five chiefs,
and the othert.s ill get frightened and run away,
and then I will: take you to our mother and say,
'Here is Juanita brought back to you, dear
Mother!'" In this way Juan. would often de-
claim to his sister with simple boastfulness.
And I will look. everywhere foi blackberries,
and save them up to. eat on the way.. But you
must wait until some time when Casteel is on the
war-path.. I' am so afraid of Casteel," Juanita
would reply.
"I am not afraid of Casteel. If he. ever troubles
me, I will run a spear into him, and shoot him,
and cut off his head," said Juan, with more spirit
than truth ; for he was afraid of Casteel, but, like
many older and wiser folk, he naturally wished to
make a good figure in an encounter which was
purely imaginary.
It has been seen, though, that Juan was a bold,
courageous lad, and happily he was not long
enough under the cruel rule of Shaneco's wife to

*Dear little sister.




lose this fine natural temper and develop into a as will appear later. And it was founded on sounder
timid, cowed creature, afraid of everything; for principles than those of many civilized parents and
in the second year of his captivity she died. guardians, since it was admirably suited to their
After that, things went more smoothly at the needs, and fitted these young savages perfectly
lodge. Instead of being treated as captives, Juan for the life they were to lead. Truth to tell, Sha-
and his sister were now made as much a part of neco had gradually come to feel a certain interest
in the white-faced little
girl, whose gentle, pretty
ways, obedience, and
youth disarmed hostility,
and for the intelligent
boy, who was so eager to
learn all that his savage
guardian could teach that
it is a wonder no suspicion
of what was in Juan's mind
ever entered the brain of
his crafty teacher.
The children were now
much happier, and showed
it, which doubtless gave
-Shaneco the idea that they
were quite reconciled to
the prospect of becoming
Comanches and had for-
gotten, or soon would for-
get, all about their old
home. He.knew too, al-
though the children did
not, all the difficulties that
would attend any attempt
to escape to the settlements
-perils great enough to
daunt the bravest man -
a wilderness of three hun-
dred miles to traverse;
hunger, thirst, exposure,
ending in almost certain
death, either by starvation,
or by violence from savage
tribes, or from wild beasts
scarcely more savage.
That two children, with-
out horses, arms, or older
companions, should dream
of taking such a journey
never occurred to him;
and, indeed, if they had
been anything except chil-
dren, and, as such, igno-
risks, they never would
the tribe as though they had been born in it, and have entertained the plan for a moment. But,
Shaneco may be said to have directed their edu- having come to them, the idea, struck its roots
cation, which, if different from that of civilized chil- ever deeper, and it became at last a fixed resolve;
dren, was far more valuable to our little Mexicans and even when, as they grew older, some of the dif-
than any that Paris or London could have afforded, ficulties of the undertaking became known to them,




they refused to recognize them as insurmount-
able, and would not give up their long-cherished
Even among his Indian playfellows, Juan soon
became conspicuous for his activity and endurance,
his strength, courage, and skill, whether shown in
running, leaping, Is i miii g wrestling, cl;inLbi i.
orin more serious occupations. Shaneco .:.frei ile
proud of him, though he never said so, at least
to Juan. But the boy understood the grunt of
approval, and the gleam of warmth that came
into the warrior's cold eyes when. Juan ran like a
lizard up to the very top of a fine o:tt:.n-wrood.
and then dropped swiftly from branch to branch
until he lightly sprang to earth and stood again
by Shaneco's side, radiant and breathless.; or when
he borrowed the chief's bow aid arrow for a mo-
ment, and made a shot that would- not have dis-
graced any man in the tribe.
Naturally a manly lad, he. took very kindly to
the hardy, open-air life, and, besides, had set him-
self in earnest to excel; ihile Shariccu, s5eng onl
the result, and not the motive, thought that the
wisdom of his decision to spare the children was
justified. At such times he would turn an "I
told you so!" glance upon Casteel, Who had been
of the capturing party, and had been opposed to
taking any.prisoners; as he was opposed to the
introduction of any foreign element into the tribe.
He.would have knocked either of the children.upon
the head as soon as fill his pipe, had they not pos-
sessed a powerful protector. Many. a kick and cuff
did he give them as it was, and there was a re--
strained brutality in his manner toward them that
quite subjugated Juanita and made her tremble
when she heard his step. It was chiefly owing to
his counsels and distrust that Juan was never
allowed to carry any weapon except a toy-bow
and its arrows, with which, however, he practiced
incessantly and became so expert that the more
good-natured of the warriors willingly lent him
.their bows, now and then, taking good care to
keep an eye on him all the while.
At that time not many guns or fixed ammunition
were in the hands of the Indians. .A bow was still
indispensable to a warrior, and a good one was con-
sidered equivalent in value to a well-trained war-
The more proficient Juan became with his toy-
bow, the more discontented he grew with its
limited capacities, and the more he longed for his
ideal bow. This should, be one like Shaneco's,
made of the best wood, without a flaw or knot in it,
as light and as strong as steel, yet elastic; with its
quiver beautifully ornamented with beads and eagle

feathers, and the claws of a mountain lion and a
grizzly bear; furnished, moreover, with the best ar-
rows, striped in gaudy colors and prettily feathered
with the feathers of the yellow-hammer. It was true
that Juan had killed many a quail and rabbits,
squirrels, and small game without end, and had
even knocked the feathers out of a wild turkey;
but what was that compared with what'he could
do if he only had a proper bow? The very sight
of Shaneco's filled Juan with envious irritation.
Alihis sport in the present, and all his hopes for
the future, depended on his- getting such a bow,
and how to get it was a problem he was always
trying to solve. He spent hours in thinking about
it, and sighed profoundly because he had no war-
horse to give in exchange for one. He knew that
he had neither the skill nor the chance -to make
one. He begged for one repeatedly, only invari-
ably to be refused, until he despaired of getting
one, and was always pouring his woe and want
and grievous, disappointment.into Juanita's sympa-
thetic ears.
"~lHov am -I ever to take you home with this
thing?" he would say, kicking his bow contempt-
uously away a yard or two.
"Sh-h! speak-Spanish!" she replied, looking
anxiously around to see whether they-were over-
heard. Both had rapidly picked up the Comanche
tongue, and they only reverted to their owni lan-
guage when they were alone.
"It is not such a bad bow. I shot a rabbit with
it this morning. And it is all you have," she
added. .
"But don't I tell you that we shall be prisoners
forever unless I can get a better?" he said im-
"Be patient, Juan; perhaps Shaneco will teach
you how to make one, or give you one," she said,
to cheer him.
"No, no he never r.. l," replied Juan discon-
solately. "What small I do ? ""
And the boy was right. Shaneco taught Juan
a great many things-how to snare quail and rab-
bits, how to fish and shoot, how to imitate the cry
of wild turkeys, how to follow an enemy's trail,
and prevent the latter from returning the compli-
ment, how to travel at night by the stars, and in the
daytime by the sun and by the moss growing on
the trees, and much other woodcraft but :the
chief never let his protege have a bov such as he
coveted, and finally showed displeasure when urged
to grant the request. There was nothing for Juan
to do but bide his time, and, afraid of arousing
suspicion, he at last dropped the subject altogether,
but was none the less resolved to get that bow.

(To be continued.)




VERY animated sounds
of conversation and
a strong smell of
,. turpentine filled the
S- air. The girls were
Every one was try-
-ing to see how near
'she could .come to'
tellipga secret with-
out quite doing it.
"Your present,
Floy, is just over
there in the draw-
er," said Nellie, at whose house her two friends
were spending the afternoon.
"Let me see," reflected Floy. "If it is in so
small a place, it is n't a house and lot, as I had
"Nor a pha..tr,,." added Madge.
"No, n6r a pony. Nell.I, am disappointed-
it must be something quite minute hum, is it a
foot long? Floy asked.
"No," Nellie laughed.
Six inches ?"
Nell measured with her fingers under the edge
of the table, and said she thought not.
"Well; then, it is nearly six inches," Floy cried
triumphantly; and as there are n't many things so
small, I 'm going, to guess Is it animal, vegetable,
or mineral?"
The three brushes were suspended, while Nell
answered slowly, mineral."
"Ah-not quite six inches long-and min-
eral-- "
Hat-pin," Madge suggested.
Nell laughed, but feeling that the strings of the
bag that held her cat were getting rather loose,
she begged that the guessing stop.
'Allright," assented Floy, "onlyI think I know,
but I wont tell; would you gild this handle gold or
bronze? But my present for you represents two
kingdoms mineral and animal."
"Mineral and animal," Nell repeated. "Oh, I
know, a leather box with a brass key "
"No, try again."
"A.purse -with a.metal -clasp ?"
"No, no," exclaimed Floy excitedly, "but let's
stop thii; it would be so horrid really to know."
"But it's fun to almost know, and.I have n't
had a chance to guess yet."

You'll get just what you most wish for," said
Then I shall be happy indeed! exclaimed
Madge, adding mischievously: "Let me see, I '11
get some new furs, a silver button-hook, a little
candlestick to go with my birthday seal, a cut-glass
smelling-bottle, a new writing-desk, and, well,
several other mere trifles."
Modest demands, I 'm sure Perhaps I '11 get
them all for you; one so easily pleased should be
-gratified," said Floy, while she and Nell exchanged
significant glances and smiled mysteriously at
For, of course, Nell knew what Floy had for
Madge, and what Madge had for Floy; Floy knew
what Nell had for Madge, and what Madge had
for Nell; while Madge knew what Nell had for
Floy, and what Floy had for Nell; and with this
bewildering lot of profound secrets, every girl
felt in a delightfully uncertain state as to whether
she were confiding the right thing to the right
person or not. That very afternoon, had not Nell
thought she should "just die of fright" ? She was
-fitting a little-.candle into the little candlestick
which she had bought for Madge, when she heard
Floy coming upstairs.; she knew it was Floy,
she heard her voice; nevertheless she cried out
in terror, Oh, Madge, don't come in Did you
see it?- Oh, dear, I believe you did i And, flying
wildly toward the bureau, she suddenly stopped and
said in a tone of disgust, "What a goose I am
Of course you can come in; I forgot you were not
Madge, and I was looking straight at you, too "
"And it is the candlestick I helped you to
select shouted Floy, sinking into a chair weak
with laughter.
After every one of the three had almost let the
others peep figuratively into the box or closet
where her gifts were stowed, yet leaving in the
mind of each a more tantalizing and fascinating
doubt than before, they settled down to steady
work, glorifying splint-baskets, and cones, and old
oil bottles, and fingers, till.Madge broke out again :
Oh, Nell, have you anything for Belle Nash ? "
"No, I have n't! Why?"
"Because she has something for you; she
showed it to me."
"You don't say so! Why, I wonder what
put it into her head to give me anything. Dear
me! then I shall have to give her something.
Sometimes I think Christmas is a nuisance."



Nellie said this, as she finished her last basket,
with a sigh, and then, after pouring out more var-
nish, she continued: "It is give and take, and
take and give, and each is so afraid of being out-
done by others that she spends more than she
And," Floy interrupted, "it is like paying off
a lot of creditors."
"I suppose it is n't the true spirit of giving,"
Madge remarked, "for we must admit that we
ought to love to give."
"I wonder," said Nell, tipping her head to
one side as she critically examined a newly
bronzed cone, I wonder how it would be to give
one present where you could n't possibly expect
a thing in return."

This was agreed upon, and they finally started
off, after making Nell promise faithfully to find out
if Belle had anything for them.
"And if she has, find out what," Madge called
"I 'I1 do my best," Nell promised, while she
thought, "Oh, dear, there is something wrong
about all this, and I don't know just what it is,
nor whom to blame."

6 I


Very, very disappointing, 'I assure you," said
Madge with a laugh.
" Yes, as it appears to us now," said Nellie; "but
I really wonder how it would make one feel."
But it is so embarrassing to be thanked by a
poor but worthy person; you could n't help getting
thanks, you know, Nellie dear," said Floy.
"Yes, I could, too; I need n't let the person
know who gave the present," said Nell soberly,
adding with a smile, I also wonder if I ever can
get this gilt out from under my nail."
The giirlslaughed, and as they rose to'go, Nell
remarked that she thought it would be only fair
that they .should come again to her house the
next afternoon to make their sachet bags, for the
sake of alternating odors.

With this unhappy little feeling, she walked to
the window, where she stood tapping idly on the
glass and looking after her friends as they went
down the street. When they had disappeared,
she found herself watching a small boy zigzagging
up the street, making a sudden glow among the
snow-flakes in the halo of each lamp as it was lit.
Now he was scrambling up the post right in front
of the house; she noticed how spider-like he was;
the first match broke off, but he struck another in a
jiffy, wriggled down again, and was away to the
next post. Just theirNell's brother'-Alf burst into
the room, with:
"I say, Nell, have you seen my mittens any-
where ?"
No, Alf, I have n't, I 'm sorry to say; but very


likely they are hung up on the floor, somewhere.
Prowl around awhile and you '11 find them."
But, I 'm in a tearing hurry; I 'm going coast-
ing-and I must have 'em-it's nipping cold "
And he banged around, looking in all sorts of
impossible places, and getting more impatient
every minute.
"Wtait' a moment, Alf dear,"! Nell advised,
"don't get in such a heat, or you '11 melt the ice.
If the gloves are n't in the coal-scuttle nor in the
lamp-chimney, as you seem to suspect, it is just
possible that, by some blinder, they are where
they belong, on the hall table. Yes, actually,
here they are "
"Thanks, awfully," said Alf.
"One moment more, Alf, please," said Nell,
"do you know the boy who lights the lamps on
this street?"
"Know him? No; not if I know myself; that
is, not on purpose. Bye-bye, tia-la! and with
his good heart, bad manners, and worse language,
out he went, with a final bang. .
Nellie Hildreth was not particularly good; nor
particularly badi she enjoyed-her brig-i lid with-
out bothering about otliel., and i: a. only more or
less selfish, as most young people are apt to be,
chiefly because she had not viewed life from any-
body else's stand-point, which is the mainspring
of generosity. But, already several disagreeable
things had occurred to her, making her feel, for
the first time in her life, a vague suspicion that
there might possibly be higher motives of action
than personal enjoyment or passing fancy.
These disturbing and unwelcome thoughts thrust
themselves on her attention in quite ai imperti-
nent way, and seemed to intimate that, though
unasked, they had come to stay. So they reas-
serted themselves as she sat all the evening at
her work, and she repeated to herself that there
was something inconsistent with the real spirit of
Christmas in the way she and her friends were
giving gifts. Several little imps of remembrance
seemed to jeer at her from the corners of her mind.
One reminded her of how she had found, at a
counter of bargains in books, a volume which she
had long been wishing to give to Amy Kent, and
which she had joyfully purchased for sixty-eight
cents; and how, when two days later she had dis-
covered Amy mousing over thatvery collection, she
had instantly decided to give the book to Lena Den-
nison (who cared nothing for the author), because
S Amy must have discovered the price of the book !
No sooner had this leering sprite disappeared
than another recalled to her mind the fact that
she was spending twice as much on Lillie Phelps
as on any. other one friend. And because she
loved her twice as well? No, quite the contrary;

only because Lillie was rich and never gave any
-but handsome things, and as there was an old family
friendship between the Phelpses and the Hildreths,
one of these expensive articles always came to Nel-
lie. And, because of this, she must always strain
her purse and scrimp those she loved in order to
make some suitable return!
"Suitable return,'.was so-.good a bit.of closing
sarcasm that Nellie thought she would end hler
self-arraignment for the night.
"Only two days to work in before Christmas !"
was Nellie's first nervous thought as she awoke in
the cold .darkness of early morning. But was it
morning, Nellie wondered; it was either half-past
five or twenty minutes after six, she could n't tell
which. Well, she must know. So up she jumped,
shivering in the chill air, to peer at the clock, and
just as she had discovered it to be after six, the
bright square of light on the wall was suddenly
blotted out. Stepping to the window, she was in
time to see a small, thin figure scrambling up the
lamp-post just beyond, and out went that light.

"Oh, I've caught you at it at last! I 'v& always
wondered when they were turned off," thought
Nell, hurrying into her warm bed again for an-
other hour of sleep. How cold it must be!
Think of getting up at five .o'clock on such a
morning as this! I hope he is warmly dressed.



Why! he must be the same boy who lighted
them And now, nestling into the thick blank-
ets, she remembered that his hands were bare, his
clothes scanty. Yet her brother, with his big coat
buttoned about his well-fed body, must have warm
mittens also. Why! was it possible that there
were suffering people passing her very house?
She had thought that her mother performed the
necessary charities for the entire family. The
servant-girl and the washerwoman were well looked
after; but then, this :cold little boy, earning a
small sum on dark, freezing morn-
ings, when other people were fast
asleep in warm beds, did n't seem
to be anybody's servant-girl or
washerwoman. "Ah," Nell ex-
claimed to herself, when hef"
thoughts had gone thus far, "now
I 've found the unsuspecting object
of my bounty And she snug-
gled into the pillow to concoct rapid
plans, until the rising-bell rang be-
fore she knew how the time had
Alf was, it must be admitted, a
torment; but there was nothing
he would not undertake for his sis-
ter, provided he were first allowed
a season of teasing, which pre-
liminary he considered his right.
Hence it was that N.;il felt sure ,
of help when she determined to
gain Alf's alliance in her design,
which was: to be-kept a secret from
all but her another.
After breakfast, she cornered her
brother in the pantry, where he was
providing against possible starva-
tion while on a skating expedition.
"Oh, Alf! she began, I 've another secret! "
Don't tell it-to me I 'm ready to burst now,"
he said, warningly but thickly, as he had, with
great decision of character, concluded to eat at
once all the broken pieces he brought up out of
the cookie jar. "Not another secret for me he
added. Did n't I go and tell Mother last night
that I forgot to stop at King's for her new gold
thimble that you left to be marked; and- "
"Oh, Alfred Hildreth you did n't tell Mother
that!" Nellie groaned in distress.
"Well, hold on, Miss Highty-Tighty! I just
asked you if I did; personally, I thought I didn't;
but then, it 's just as you say."
"You dreadful boy, how you frightened me!
But do be careful."
I would n't like to tell a secret, but I certainly
shall, if you give me another. Do I look like a

man who would willingly betray a confidence ? But
there is a point where I should go off like a pop-
gun; so beware."
Nellie laughed, but insisted on reposing just one
more secret in his adamantine breast.
Fire away, then he said, at last, trying to see
if his coat would button over the bulging pockets.
"Now, Alf, don't tell a living soul, except
Mother. She must know. I want you to find out
who the boy is that lights the gas on this street."
"Whew i" whistled Alf. "Why, you asked yes-



terday if I had the honor of the gentleman's
acquaintance Is he handsome?"
Fiddlesticks Don't be foolish, but just find
out about him,-where he lives, whether he has a
mother,- and please, Alf dear, see what kind of
clothes he has; there 's a good boy, and I '11 tell
you later why I want to know."
"All right! I '11 send around my card, and
ask for his name and the address of his tailor,"
he chuckled, as he took up his skate-bag.
"Oh, I'll tell you the name of his tailor!"
Nellie answered, with a mysterious laugh, fol-
lowing her brother to the hall; "but don't dare
darken this door again until you find out what I
want to know."
"Oh, well, I wont forget to remember;" and
with a merry click of his skates, Alf whistled him-
self out.

VOL. XIV.--I0.

(To be concluded.)



LITTLE bird went to and fro, BRADLEY.
Once in the nesting season,
And sought for shelter high and low,
Until, for some queer reason,
She flew into a granary
Where, on a nail suspended,
The farmer's coat she chanced to see,
And there her search was ended.

HE granary was in a loft,
Where not a creature met her;
The coat had hollows deep and soft--
And where it hung, how safe it was,
Without a breeze to rock it !
Come, little busy beak and claws,
Build quick inside the pocket !
LKol ntbn eb




T886.] A NEST IN A POCKET. 147

OU never saw a prettier nest
In rye-field or in clover,
Than this wherein she sat at rest
When building-work was over.
Three speckled eggs soon warmly lay
Beneath the happy sitter;
Three little birds oh, joy! one day
Began to chirp and twitter. .

bO would have laughed to see them lie
Within the good man's pocket,
Securely hid from every eye
As pictures in a locket!
Busy, and blissfully content,
With such a place for hiding,
The little mother came and went
S' To do their small providing.

ND not a creature wandered in,
Her nestlings to discover
(Except a wasp that now and then
About her head would hover),
SUntil- ah, can you guess the tale ?-
The farmer. came one morning,
And took his coat down from the nail'
Without a word of warning !

OOR little frightened motherling!
Up from her nest she fluttered,
S And stiaightway every gaping, thing
Its wide-mouthed terror uttered.
The good man started back aghast;
But merry was his wonder
When in the pocket he at last
SFound such unlooked-for plunder.

SE laughed and laughed. "Upon my word,"
He said aloud, "I never !-
Who could suppose a little bird
Would do a thing so clever?
Come, now 't would be a shame to harm
The fruit of such wise labor.
I wouldn't hurt you for a farm,
My pretty little neighbor!"


E put the coat back carefully: I
I guess I have another;
So don't you be afraid of me,
You bright-eyed little mother.
I know just how you feel, poor thing,
S For I have youngsters, bless you!
Theie-stop your foolish fluttering-
Nobody shall distress you."

.. ",, .,< __ .::. ....... .. ..

.-' -. .- . ..
:.~~~ ~ .- & -z- '

HEN merrily he ran away
To tell his wife about it,-
How in his coat the nestling lay,
And he must do without it.
She laughed, and said she thought he could !
And so, all unmolested,
The mother-birdie and her brood
Safe in the pocket rested,

1LL all the little wings were set
In proper flying feather,
, IAnd then there was a nest to let-
/ For off they flocked together.
i The farmer keeps it still to show,
And says that he 's the debtor;
/His coat is none the worse, you know,
". While he 's-a little better.





PAUL liked so much to visit Uncle Jack, because quite still while they went up, as if he had nothing
Uncle Jack was very fond of little Paul, and be- to do with their moving. Whether the fairies pulled
cause the house where Uncle Jack lived had above or the elves pushed from below, Paul could
magic buttons. Not fine, smooth buttons on his not guess, but he felt very sure it was all the work
coat, nor little, sparkling buttons on his shirt- of the magic button.
front! No; buttons far more wonderful than those. When they had risen so high that Paul expected to
When Paul's stout little legs had carried him up step out on the moon, "the elevated man touched
the stoop, he could
just manage to
reach on tip-toe a
little round white
button on the side
of the door that
looked like half of
a very shiny white
marble. When
the little finger-tip
touched the shiny
button, it pushed
in and made a
sound like a run-
away clock. Im-
mediately, the
wide front door
swung open,, and
Paul scampered
in as fast as he
could go, over the
marble floor, to
reach another
door-way with an-
other shiny ring-
ing-button. Then
that door also
glided back, and
Paul and his mam-
ma entered abeau-
tiful little bit of a
room with a velvet-
side of it. Then
the whole room- with Mamma and Paul and a a steel rope in one corner; the little room stopped
young man in a sort of uniform went gliding with a jerk, and stepping out, Paul and his mamma
swiftly up through the air. It was very delightful, found themselves in front of Uncle Jack's door,
but very strange, for "the elevated man" stood which was guarded by another delightful button.


It buzzed such a loud answer to his eager touch
that Paul was sure it was glad he came. ,
Paul knew, too, that when Uncle Jack's door
should open, he would reach a still more astonish-
ing button. -- And the next moment he slipped in,
and, sliding his hand hurriedly up the wall by the
inside of the door, found the little white button,
and shouted in a strong voice, as much like Uncle
Jack's as possible, "Light "
Instantly, over his head and across the hall by
the parlor door, and away down at the end by
the library, the beautiful lights flashed out like the
:bright sunshine he had left"iri 'tl street.: Could
anything be more magical than that? -Bythis time
dear; jolly Uncle Jack knew wiho his" visitor was,
and was ready to showPaul' all his magic buttons.
Paul could tell any one who asked him aboit the
(" .. .. ,

buttons, that they were worked by electricity but he
did not knowjust how the wonderful work was done.
There was the button that lighted all the gas
in a second without any matches; the button that
called the cook from the kitchen; the little button
that summoned the doctor if Uncle Jack was sick
in the night; :and the button that would bring the
engines and firemen in five minutes if fire broke
out. And there was even a tiny gold button on
the rim of Uncle Jack's watch that would tell him
the exact time any moment in the darkness.
It told Paul's mamma it was time to go home,
but dear, Aunt Sue insisted on pressing -another
little button in the wall, and in a few minutes a
dainty dish of ice cream was set before the de-
lighted boy. And Paul thought that- button, the
finest of all.


'-" '

I I '


N,\ "K';:

i -
t l rJj
i l ',

Will be p n t auar number of St. Ni
Will be spun in the January number of St. Nicholas.

1 50




I know a little army,
Of little bitS of -men:
.A very little army,
Commanded by -Sir Pen.
They are only six-and'twenty
But they drill exceeding, /well
And,when. they are -not plety,
They all jegin to %pell.

And spelling calls up others,
That help tl first straight ay,
-A lot of twins and brotly -
That make a great .arrt ,
out twenty-Sfa tR? ardiy
- ix-and-twentv only spell--/
Wh t iJ 7nTy li tle army ?
an, .any of you tell?


le l




I AM a new Jack, come to take the place of your Christmas. All ordinary days, your Jack wishes
own dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit for this time only. me to say, come to us out of the gray dawn, ready
He has gone to talk with Santa Claus, and I am to be whatever we choose to make them-sour
to read you his lessons and messages as well as days, sweet days, rough days, gentle days, busy
I can. days, lazy days, good days or bad days, as the case
First, I am to give Brother Jack's love to all you may be; but Christmas comes to us ready-made,
ST. NICHOLAS boys and girls, and then I am to and with a spirit of its own-the holiest, brightest
wish you a delightful December and a very merry day of all the year.


Another point I am requested to mention: All
summer long, your Jack says, the birds have been
sending songs into the spruces, cedars, firs, and
other Christmas trees, and the sunlight has been
gliding in and out among their branches, and soft
breezes have been nudging and whispering to
them, until at last there is n't an evergreen tree
that is n't ready and anxious to do you good serv-
ice if called upon; and every tree of them intends
to keep itself green and trim for the occasion.
Also and thirdly, I have been requested to ad-
dress a few words to you, my own self. But, really,
I don't know what to say. I am so very young.
It's hard to be a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, unless you
grow up to be one, as your own Jack did. So all
I can say, as I look about me, is, I 'm glad to see
you all here to-day -and is n't it nice to be alive?
To be alive is the first thing. After that it is easy
to be thankful, and after that, not so very hard to
try to be good. Now, my chicks, as Jack says,
look into this matter.
As we 've been talking about trees, we may as
well begin by reading these verses, sent you by
your friend, Emilie Poulsson:
SAID the Maple to the Pine,
" Don't you want a dress like mine,
Turning into gorgeous colors in September ?"
"Well," replied the little Pine,
" I will own it's very fine
While it lasts you;-but how is itin December ?
I 'm contented to be seen
In this handsome dress of green;
And to change it I don't see sufficient reason.
"But, dear Maple," said the Pine,
Don'tyou want a dress like mine,
That will last and look as well in any season? "
No, I thank you, little Pine,"
Said the Maple; I decline,
Since for autumn reds and yellows I 've a
Those green dresses look so strange
When the Oaks and Beeches change.
Why, I could n't bear to be so out of fashion!"
All right, Miss Maple; but if you knew what we
know, you 'd see why the pine has the best of it
for not being in the fashion with you trees. Ever-
greens are in the height of the fashion with us boys
and girls about this time of year.
But, my beloved hearers, I guess we 're trying
to know too much. For Deacon Green says that
the maple-tree has a secret, too, and that a few
months later she may be the belle of the season.
Now, what does that mean? And he says, too, that
the more sappy we are, the better we '11 be able to
guess. Now, what does that mean ? I wish the Dea-
con would n't say quite such things as that, when
there 's nobody but me here to explain 'em to you.
The next branch of our subject, my hearers, is

and I should n't be surprised if the Deacon meant
that it 's better to be like the maple-tree than to be
like this old weather-cock. Yet, the weather-cock
does seem to have a hard time, and you can't help
feeling rather sorry for the old fellow. Your friend
Hugh Gibson sent you these verses about him, and
your Jack asked me to be sure to show them to you.

No wonder he creaks as the winds go by,
No wonder he turns with a rusty sigh;
How would you like a living earning
By turning -turning turning- turning?
Or to stand all your life with a pole for a base
And the winds of all weathers to blow in your face ?

"Creak, creak, creak," we hear him say,
" To-morrow will be like yesterday,-
Now to the east, now to the west -
One never has any quiet or rest,
An hour of sunshine, another of rain,
It's nothing but turning and turning again."

"Creak, creak, creak," the tin bird cries,
"In just a few signs the secret lies;
When the wind's from the west, there's nothing to
When the wind 's from the east, a storm is near.
Can't every one tell when the day is clear
Without keeping me turning and twisting here?"

"Creak, creak, creak," the weather-cock growls,
" I think I 'in the most ill-used of fowls;
I never foretold bad weather yet
But you went in while I got wet.
Say what you may,. I don't think it 's right
To keep me twisting from morning to night."

You. all know, of course, that rivers have
"mouths" and "heads," and you all have heard
of the "eye "of a needle, the teeth of a saw,
and the nose of a watering-pot. But the Little
Schoolma'am says that these are only the begin-
ning of the list. She says a great many articles
of furniture have "feet" and "legs," and some
engines have "knees."- Earthen jars have ears "
and "shoulders"; jugs and bottles have "necks"
and "throats"; rain-spouts and stove-pipes have
"elbows"; and grain-reapers have "fingers."
Every boat has "ribs," and parks have been called
the 'lungs" of. cities;-who can tell why?
Peaches are'said to have "cheeks," and every
two-horse vehicle has a." tongue."
The Little Schoolma'am says that you can add to
this list for yourselves, and that, if you think it
out, and inquire of your elders, you will be aston-
ished to find how many things in this world have
the same names as parts of our active young bodies.
And maybe, too, you '11 find out why this is so.

GOOD-BYE, my hearers. Your own dear old Jack
will be in his pulpit again next month.





THE December and January numbers of'ST. NICHOLAS may each will therefore run through both numbers; and theJanuary issue will
be regarded as a Christmas issue; or, since the one precedes Christ- contain several other Christmas features, including a short holiday
mas Day but a few weeks, and the other follows it immediately, they story by Mrs. Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, and a Christmas poem by
may be taken as together forming a double Christmas number. Mr. Miss Edith Thomas. And as stated on page 150, the tough little
Frank R. Stockton's story of "A Fortunate Opening," and Mrs; yarn" of "The Galley Cat "- a very amusing tale in'verse--will
Rose Lattimore Alling's account of "A Christmas Conspiracy," also be "spun" in that number.


ALASKA. from a neighbor's house. After working nearly'a half hour, they got
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My brother takes you, and my mamma her out. Papa said she behaved like a-soldier.
reads the storiestomebecause I cannotieadyet. I am five yearsold, Of course we were very much-scared, but after Mamma said a
but Mamma says I may learn to read when I am seven. I wish I prayer for us, we felt God would take care of us. None of us made
were seven now. But I know how to row a boat and to steer one, any fuss; not-even the colored servants, who were as quiet as possi-
too, only not alone, but when Papa or Mamma is with me. My ble and did everything Mamma told them. .As-sobn:as the:first
brother is twelve years old, and he can climb to the top of the mast, shock was over, we saw a house on fire a short distance from us and
or go in a boat by himself. We live on a ship, and my papa is the another large fire a few squares -off, and we thought the whole city
captain: .,-ir .cT.-i: : hip r-. .- back and forth, sounding, to see would be burnt down; but the engines were soon at work, although
how many I fa'r. -rl Je h. ite ar.' ... My brother and I often take they had much trouble to get out of their houses.
a long piece of string and play sound, too, when we are out in the Nearly every house took fired from lamps'that were upset, but the
straits. We tie one end of the string to his windmill, then a big nail people, even women and children, stopped to put them out before
to the other,.and let the nailend go overboard. When it strikes the they left the houses. We staid in the street until two o'clock, and
bottom, we pull it up to see what kind of bottom it is, sticky or sandy, then we went into the basement of our house and lay down on
Then we take angles like.the officers.. We have no little children to mattresses, but only the little children slept: ::
play with, because we sail away from the land, and besides, only Please thank the good people who are sending us money, for we
Indian children live here in Alaska- except in Wrangell. are very poor now, and it is very good of then to send it -
My mamma writes my letters for me, and I tell her what to say. W. PARKER HOLMES.
We went one day on a little steamboat named "Lively," to see I write so badly, I got Mamma to copy this for me.
the Pattersor Glacier. It is a big mountain of ice, and great pieces
break off and float about on the water. We picked up a very large
piece and brought it back to the shipand put some of it in the water-
coolers. But the Lively" was so slow we could not get up to the DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : A month or two ago there appeared in a
foot of the glacier. Instead of Lively," the boat had. better be number of, your magazine an article entitled, "Keeping the Cream
named "Slowly," I should think, and we had to come back before of One's Reading." The process described there seemed so labori-
we wanted to. ous that I thought I would describe my own method of doing the
I caught a big halibut one day. The quartermaster pulled it up same thing. I think a book should be valued for -the use we can
for me, because it was so large it would have pulled me overboard if make of it, and so I do not hesitate to mark mine. ..When'I notice a
I had.tried to pull it in alone. It weighed sixty-seven pounds. paragraph or a sentence that seems to me noteworthy, I-draw a
Did ydu ever see hundreds and hundreds of big salmon jumping pencil-line around it. In this way, when I glance at the book a
up out of the wafer? I see them almost every day, and yesterday second time, I know the best portions at once: If there is anything
we saw one that tried to leap up a big waterfall thirty feet high; but very important, I make a note on the margin to call attention to the
it fell back into the wateragain. fact. This is no trouble whatever: it can be done at any time or
There were.wild deer tracks all along the beach, and'one day, in place; and now when paper-covered editions art flooding .the land
Steamer Bay, we saw a big black bear eating wild cabbage-leaves with the best publications, it seems to me that since they are within
on the beach. Mamma and I did not stay on shore alone much the reach of all, there is no necessity, as there night have been once,
after that. for the other toilsome method. SUBSCRIBER.
It rains most of the time in Alaska, and we do not have many
pleasant days at all. We are going back to San Francisco soon. DULUTH; MINNESOTA.
Your little friend, MABEL E. SNOW. DEAR ST.-NICHOLAS: We have taken your magazine from the
first (at least, my father has). I was not very old when he got the
CHARLESTON, S. C. first numbers. We have them all bound, and they make a very fine
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy eleven years old living set of books.
in Charleston, S. C., and I thought your young readers would like In the July number for.1883, I read an article on How to Build a
to know how some of us fared on the night of the earthquake. I Catamaran," by W. L. Alden. I showedit to my friend David Eric-
went to bed that night at nine o'clock, and knew nothing of it until son. He said it was very good, but thought I was not old enough
Mamma and my elder sister took my little brother and myself by the then to build one, and my folks thought so, too; but I thought
hand and led us to the head of the steps, and then Mamma sent us different. Well, my father made me wait till this last winter, when
down with sister while she ran to the fourth story to get my old he got some tools and let me go at it.
aunt and youngest sister. All the time the house was rocking so In looking'back in my journal for 886, I find that I began to con-
we could hardly keep our feet. Mamma and sister were thrown struct it on New Year's day, that I finished it on the ist of May, got
down twice before they got to our room. When we got down it ready for sea at the close of June, and have sailed in it all summer;
stairs we found the front door was so jammed that we could not open so you can imagine what afine vacation I have had.
it; so we ran through the back door into the street, where the houses In comparing my sketch with that of Mr. Alden's, you will find-
could not reach us if they had fallen any more. Our neighbors and they differ somewhat; but you see I live at the head of Lake Supe-
/ servants soon came there, too. Papa and one.of my sisters were on the rior, so I had to make her more ready for sea." '
way home.from an evening call. They were in the street when the This is the firstboat I ever built, and I have discovered two things:;
shock came.. IHe says he first heard a rambling qoise and sawa thefirst is, that it is anything but.an easy joi .and the second, that if
light cloud coming rapidly to him, and theh ihe earth be to to roll you "keep at it," and'are very exact in figuring," you will always
around under his feet so that he had to cling to the fence to keep come out all right.
from being thrown down. If they had gone ten yards further they Mr. Alden says: "There is no better boat to cruise in than such
would have been crushed under a wall twenty feet high. Assoon a catamaran. At night you anchor her, unship your mast, pitch ,yur
as.Papa got my sister where we were, he took a lantem and went to tent, and sleep safely and comfortable. If you come to a dam, you
a poor woman who was caught under the piazza which had fallen take the craft apart, and carry her around it piecemeal. If you once


try to build a catamaran, and succeed,-as you certainly will, if you
have patience,-you will have the safest and most comfortable sail-
boat in the world."
I have tried it myself, and find it is true.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old, and in
summer we live in a cottage away up in the clouds, two miles above
the sea-shore. *There are mountains all around us, and a lake in
front of us, and one behind us. There-are woods on one side of each
lake.' High up on the mountains, where the trees stop growing, is
'called the timber-line; and above that.there are little patches of snow
all summer long. Now the trees are yellow and red, and the shad-
ows in the lake are very beautiful. Two deer were killed'in the lake
last week, when they came down to drink.
Dick and I love to get the new ST. NICHOLAS every month. Dick
likes the Brownies the most. .
Your devoted reader, ETHEL V. W.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are so fond of you, that, this summer,
when we made two books out of the leaves of an old day-book .that
were not written upon, we named them in honor of you, New St
Nicholas; and we are writing the best stories we can in them.
We think that Little Lord Fauntleroy." is the best story we ever
read, and are also very, much interested in "The Kelp-Gatherers."
We remain, your interested readers,

'DEAR ST. NCHOLAS.: I am thirteen years old, and I have taken
you five years; I. have three younger sisters, and we all like you
very much. I like "Little. Lord Fauntleroy." .
Last summer we. went'to -Mongolia for a few days, and we lived in
tents; we slepton the ground, and when we got up in the morning
it was as cold as if it were winter-time. Large herds of cows and
oxen would be infected, vith curiosity, and crowd around the tents,
when, suddenly, one of us-would run atthem within open umbrella,
and scare them. away. There were, at that time, innumerable flowers
on the hills, and in a marsh near us we found a beautiful little pearly-
white flower.
There are some caves two or three miles north ofKalgan that were
made by men; for, when we took some dirt off the bottom of the
larger caves, we found a lime floor underneath. In one of the caves
is a spring, which is a great convenience to us when we go up to
picnic there. Papa found a stone ax on a mountain west of our
house, by a mound like those he used to find in Ohio, when he was
a boy. The ax is now at New York at the Metropolitan Art
Every year we go down to Peking in mule-litters, and we girls
think it is great fun. The Chinese here say that a man's hairis round,
and that a woman's hair is flat. I have tried rolling them between
my fingers, aid have found them so. Is it true? I hope my letter
is not too long, for it would give me great pleasure to see it in the
Letter-Box.. From your friend,.
P. S.-Mathma says I ought to tell you where I live. I live be-
tween China proper and Mongolia, north of Peking. E. W.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for four or five years.
We have lived here for more.than a year. A few months ago I saw
a letter from St Petersburg, but that is about the only one I can
remember having seen. The little girl who, wrote it described- the
droskies. I will describe the sledges. The horse wears- the same
harness all the year round. The sledges are very short, being only
long enough for a moderately comfortable seat.for the.passenger and
a very small seat for the izvoshchik (driver). The place where he
puts his feet is so small that he has to put one outside. The sledges
are very low compared with English and American sleighs, and so
short that the driver almost sits in the passenger's lap.
Now I must conclude my letter, for it will be too long for you to
print, and I want you to print it very much, as it is the first letter I
have ever written to any magazine.
From your constant reader, WILLIE ROPES.

Dgar r NI.-:I'OL I .suppuoe.you know what a poor opinion
many'..-.j : 1.i .? I.. .. hir : g -:i :n' do in the way of outdoor sports.
Well, last sumrner, we girls got up a cricket club and practiced
every day, and at last we made arrangements to play the boys, and
although we were beaten, we had the consolation of having the boys
acknowledge that we could dosomethingin the way of outdoor sports.

DEAR ST.- NICHOLAS: I am an American boy and I spent the
summer in Switzerland. We staid sometime at little villa on the Lake
of Lucerne. It is very beautiful there, the mountains are so grand.
Southwest of us was the Pilatus, six thousand four hundred feet in
height, which was very close to us. I have two sisters and one
brother; I am the eldest of the family; I am twelve years old.'
One of my cousins, who plays very well, went to'Bayreuth with
Papa, to hear the great performances of Tristan and Isolde," and
"Parsifal," which are played only every three years, and for which
people come across the ocean.
I have taken you four years now and like you very much. Now;
good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS, and believe me to be your affectionate
little friend and reader, J. H. T.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you nearly a year. I like the
"Brownies" best, apd I think George Washington was just fine. My
papa and I made a kite and flag like the one described in the July
number. The flag hung over Main street and created quite a sen-
sation on the morning of July 5th. Please print my letter as it is
-my first I am nine years old. I live in Elk Point, Dakota.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As you were so kind-as to-print the letter
I wrote you from Pappenheim, Bavaria, last summer, it has given
me courage to tell the readers of ST. NICHOLAS a little about Suchard's
great chocolate manufactory, near Neuchatel, which we have just
visited. We were first shown- the large water-wheel which.works
all the machinery. From there we were. taken to the room where
the raw cocoa beans ire kept in great pyramids from eight to ten
feet high! 'We passed through several rooms where- the beans
were broken- and shelled by machinery, while in another room they
were sorted by a lot of women sitting at a long table. The cocoa
was then passed through.several grindings, cooking, and flavorings,
after which it was molded into its final shapes. It was very inter-
esting to-watch the women wrap the chocolate; their fingers seemed
to go like lightning,-they went so fast; and it'was wonderful to see
the big cakes of chocolate piled up in room after room, as high as
the ceiling. Each cake was about two feet long, one foot wide, and
four inches thick, and it looked so good! Theyoung man who showed
us around made it very funny at the endby not only giving usas much
chocolate as we could eat ourselves, but by stuffing his own pockets
too. The manufactory is like little village .in itself, there are so
many great buildings; some of them are connected by bridges on
which are laid railroad tracks. These serve to run the cars on that
carry the chocolate from one building to another.
I wish allyour readers could be traveling, and seeing as much as I
am, because I am having lots and lots of fun.
I remain, your loving reader, HARRY LYNDON DESPARD.

My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years old, and I
live in California. The other day my sisters and I were playing in
a big bay tree, when I saw a little gray thing running about on the
roots of a tree near by. I climbed down quickly, and ran over to
where it was, and there I saw it was little.baby wood-rat. I picked
it up in my hands and called Oh, guess what I 've got," and the
other children screamed and shouted. r,.i c:t .,: v In fr.,om the tree as
fast as they could, to see what I. had Th, r ae r ar. up ro the house
with it, and showed it to Mamma, anrld t .r..1 t. i .: let us, keep it

r -


for a pet. She said she thought it was d pretty little-thing, but she
did not like to have a wood-rat in the house, but she let us keep it
for one gight, and gave us a little woodenbox' to put it in. We put
some cotton in'the box for a bed, and gave him some pieces of apple
to eat, and he nibbled a little bit, but he could not eat very much, he
had such tiny teeth. Mamma told me to make little sketch of him
as he sat in the box; so I did, and here it is; I tried to make it Just
life-size. I can not draw very well yet, but I send it to you because
I thought the little children in the East might like to see what a



wood-rat looks like, if it is good enough to be printed. The next
day I brought it down to the place where I found it, and we left the
box there, too, so if he did not find his mother he could creep into
the cotton and get warm. When we went back afterward to look
for it, the rat had gone, so we hoped he had found his mother, and
we were glad we let him go. Your little friend,

NED M.- Yes; the name is a real one, and the gentleman lives
in New York City.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for three years, and I like
you ever so much. I live a quarter of a mile from the town, and as
I have no little sisters or brothers to play with, you are a great deal
of company for me. I think that Little Lord Fauntleroy" was a
very nice story, and I liked;" His One Fault" ever so much, and
was sorry when it ended.
The prairies here in the summer are beautiful. They are covered
with flowers; there are golden-rod, phlox, violets, buttercups, anemo-
nes, pasque-flowers, red lilies, lady-slippers, asters, indigo-plant, and
many others. Among the birds are bobolinks, robins, humming-
birds, sparrows, killdeers, bee-birds, meadow-larks, and martins.
I have a horse that is twenty-four years old, a bird and a dog.
Hoping that I may see this in print, I remain,
Your interested reader, DAISY CLARE B-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been taking you a very long
time, long before I could read you; but Mamma read you to my
sister and myself. We can hardly wait for you to come out every
I *ant i.. :'ll :.. ,jb rr..u .jIt jir laIle pny) H N i Sa hl.cl r.-
.:.ny Papi tcugh him ioTr me at-ite Ne. Orl.-an. Exposition.
-e '.enr imaall, hI:. nime i ,'P'-ik.a.i.:..- rF'eIk i.t.:.., is very gentle
nc.,' but .rh" i r;tl L- .:t MT., hl had *a '.:. 1 z.r, fast, and all
at :.-n.:e :Ic: a, a d I ..:i.r. -...C : r I-. rca. i. .,nd landed on
ille gLOnao. H.: 1hi i 6ga 'iy i'..:, ii h. -.II :at nearlyall
kinds of fruit. My sister has an Indian pony; it is very pretty, but
not so pretty as Peek-a-boo. Every afternoon we go riding, and
sometimes we also go in the morning. Peek-a-boo is fond of music;
sometimes I go out where he is eating grass and play the banjo to
him; he comes up to me and smells my hand and rubs his nose
against me, evidently quite pleased. He is so spoiled and petted
that he is more like a big dog than a horse. He would even go into

the kitchen if cook would let him. I hope you will print my letter,
as this is the first I have ever written to you.
Your little friend, MARIE B-- .

WE regret that we can only acknowledge the pleasant letters sent
to us by the following young friends:
Dot and Lottie, Edna Weil, "Peep-bo," Esther Watson, The
Theatrical Trio, Lily W., Ettie Coombs, Harold G., "Bob," Edith,
Ethel Cutts, Mabel Cutts, W. M., Lucy Eastman,. Laurence C. F.,
Horace Macknight, A Reader, "Germaine and Muriel," Grace
and Carrie L., Lulu, Clara J. Frayne, Eloise McElroy, "Sippie"
Liddell, F. A. H., Jennie H. Henry, Clarence H. Robison, Nellie
T. Bendon, Buttercup, Primrose and Pansy M., Mattie I. Brown,
Florence A. H., Leonora B. Borden, Julie H., Nellie, Eugene Kell,
L. D. W., Jennie M. Woodruff, Katherine M., Pearl Wheeler,
Genevra Foster, Flora F. S., John Warren, Sadie Lewis, Annie
M. Graves, Nellie Spurck, Nellie Montgomery, Nellie F. H., Aim6e,
A. P., Will J. Dever, Clara Whitmore B., Carrie Byrd, Lily and
Violet B., Cheney Robertson, "Damon and Pythias," Edith W.,
Bessie Snodgrass, Clara Steele, Ransom Brackett, Arthur B. W.,
Ruth I. Henrici, Algernon, Lizzie A. Prioleau, Helen, Fred. J.
Nicholas, "Mayflower," "Sachem," Rachel, Jennie Snodgrass,
Sarah Jenkins, Ida Scott, C. B. S., Jr., Alice Ham, Florence Day,
Louise A., Bessie C., Nellie M. Ingraham, Eva Campbell, Willie
Holt, Lena and Alna, Clarence, Minna and Pansy, Sarah Hunter
Mustin, Heebie Q. W., Lilly W., Tommy D. W., Charity L. W.,
David Tenney, Bertha Lockwood, Nan and Bert, Jessie Walton,
Maude Cullen, Ellie A. Newhall, Susie P. Newhall, M. T. M.,
Jerald and: Sue, Harry F., Ida H. Doeg, Edith M. Hadley, M. R.
S., I. W. Ward,-Edith P., A. R. Porter, M. F.D. and A. M. S.,
Freddie Adickes, Florence, Lillian and Pearl Sturtevant, Johnnie
Culkin, Ella, Jack H., Beryl E. Engel, Mabel J., Polly S. and Alice
M., Margaret B. M., Mabel Gilbert, Edna Howard, Gladys Daven-
port, Lila Langford, A. E. Jack, Three Little Maids, Florence
Langton, Dolly Frankenfield, A. A. C., Louie B., May G. M.,
Bessie C., John H. McClellan, Leo P., Elsie Beth Dunn, Mamie
Biddle, Otis S., Marion Knight, Bessie Haight, Alfred Dawson, F.
S. K., and Bessie Lewis.

- n~sa



A LETTER announcing the organization of:Chapter 975, London,
closes as follows: "It, may interest you to kow that four of the
members (those bearing the name Francillon) belong to an English
branch of a family which, in Switzerland, has been closely connected
with the family of Agassiz, whose sister was Mme. Francillon."


A. E. WARREN, Sec. of 742, Jefferson, Ohio, says: "The best
way to sketch them, according to my experience, is to catch them
on a piece of cold looking-glass. Then, with an inch lens, their
forms can be made out more easily than when caught on cloth."

[Thefollowing hint from Mr.' Chas. E. Brown, four flourish-
I' .- ,,. .. _VoZa Scotia; Chkpter, will be of service to our
S. :' For fine work, mica is too soft to be useful,
besides #ossessidessin irable otical roierties. It was formerly
used to some extent, but has been superseded by glass.] "I use
thin sheets of mica to cover objects to be mounted. It is nearly as
flexible as paper, may be readily cut with scissors, and stands wear
very well. As I have never seen, in any work 6t' the microscope,
a method so simple and yet so practical, give it,tif jfou approve, to
the members of the A. A."

MR. COGGESHALL MACY, one of our most earnest members in
New York City, asks: "Do bumble-bees prey upon spiders ? I have


been watching a certain kind of brown spider. In two instances, a
bumble-bee flew into the web and struggled for a moment, but as
soon as the spider attacked it, the bee flew off, carrying the spider,
I thought, in its legs."

THE subject of a course of study in Marine Zoilogy has unex-
pectedly resolved itself into an interesting question regarding the
right of a certain institution to furnish alcohol for the preservation
of specimens designed for use outside the State. This question will
soon be decided. Prof. Crosby is preparing the specimens, etc., for
his second course in Mineralogy, and will soon be ready for work.
By the way, I can not resist giving a short extract from a letter
from a Georgia boy to illustrate the want which is supplied by
these courses:
"We need a small fund, the interest of which may be used to
enable those who need help to avail themselves of the lessons. Even
the very slight'expense for specimens and books, which now attends
our courses of study, is enough to exclude some of those who would
be most benefited by them.
I am very anxious to take up some scientific course of study.
I am quite poor and can not afford an expensive course. If it is pos-
sible that I might pay for the course by copying, writing, or in any
way, I would be very glad to do it."

Miss MARGARET KENDAL GRIMSTON, a member of one of our
London, England, Chapters, having mentioned seeing a group of
Swiss boys off for a scientific excursion, sends the following in re-
sponse to a request for particulars:
"I should say they were from different schools, as they came in
three detachments, and each detachment had one or two teachers.
Almost all carried botany-boxes and butterfly-nets. They appeared
very enthusiastic. The boys were of all ages, mostly ranging from
about twelve to sixteen. I noticed they wore something in their
hats, but whether a badge of any sort, I do not know. A gentleman
told me they were going to spend the whole day in the woods. He
also told me they made many botanizing and scientific excursions
about that time of the year."
HERE comes a report, due last month, but delayed for cause, as
you may see:
687, Adrian, Mict. (A). The reason of delay is, that I have
been waiting to find out what success we had at the county fair.
Our success was complete. We occupied one whole cottage (18x24
feet). Although it was a huge job to fix the whole building up, we
did it, and had a very fine exhibit. We had a collection of stuffed
birds, a collection of Indian relics, and a collection in geology and
mineralogy. We had to compete against the fine collection of the
Adrian College. We took first premium on general collection, three
other first premiums, and two second premiums. In all, they
amounted to $i8.oo. We have purchased matting for our rooms,
and expect to be in shape to receive visitors very soon.
We have a large aquarium in running order. We do not wish to
brag, but not long ago one of the most prominent State entomologists
said that we had one of the finest collections in entomology in the
:State. We received the report of General Assembly, and read it
with great interest.- Edw. J. Sebbins, Sec.
705, Philadelphia (Y). The right spirit.- Part of the summer
has been devoted to botany. I have a small cabinet, containing
thirty-seven minerals, some shells and curiosities, labeled and cata-
logued, and have become much interested in mineralogy. I am just
now sustaining the Chapter alone, but am looking, forward to being
joined by some interested persons, and am by no means discour-
:aged.- Edith Earpe.
711, Glens Falls (A). A model report.-Our Chapter enters
upon the third year of its.existence, sound in organization and
earnest and enthusiastic in spirit. Sixteen regular meetings have
been held, at which numerous papers were read, and talks given
upon natural history subjects, selections read, specimens reported
upon, etc.
Under the management of a committee, the Chapter room has
been gradually made pleasanter and more convenient. A "science
-reading-table" has been started, and upon it may be found, by
Chapter members and their friends, the current numbers of several
leading scientific periodicals. A quarterly publication, called the
"Owl" has been issued, specimen and exchange copies of which
will gladly be sent to other Chapters upon request.
Agassiz's birthday was duly observed by a formal meeting in the
afternoon, at which time Dr. Lintner, New York State Entomologist,
and several Glens Falls gentlemen made addresses, after which a
festival was held. A delightful walk with Dr. Lintner, the next day,
May 29th, is looked back upon by the Chapter with pleasant thoughts.
We number, at present, nineteen active and six honorary members.-
:Edwd. R. Wait, Sec.
719, Philadelphia (A). A good one.- This Chapter, although

comparatively new, promises to be a good one. The Chapter was
formed early in June, 1886, with four members. The membership
increased to seven in one week. We have no initiation fees, nor any
fines. Botany was our subject for the summer, and we had two
essays read at each meeting, each on a different flower. Two of us
are arranging an herbarium for the Chapter. We intend to study
geology in the winter and botany in the summer. We have a very
nice cabinet of rocks, minerals, and marine curiosities; also some
very handsome fossils.--Herbert L. Evyahi,-Sec.
728, Binghamton, N. P. Perseverance wins.- For us the past
year has been full of discouragements. At the beginning of the
year, we had seven active members, and had secured a room in the
Y. M. C. A. building, free of charge. Thus equipped, we felt
ready for work in earnest. But one evening our president and
treasurer both left us, and we found affairs very unsettled. This
discouraged us so much that two others nearly left. Then it was
vacation, and we separated for the summer. On our opening this
fall, we did some hard thinking. At our last meeting, we admitted
one new member. We have also decided to send to Philadelphia
for a good microscope. One of our number claims to have dis-
covered that on butterflies there are differently shaped scales for
each different color.- Chas. F. Hotchkin, Sec.
733, Detroit (D). Bravo, Detroit!-Our Chapter was organ-
ized November 7, 1884, with five active members. We then had
a very small room, and a cabinet. Most of us had been col-
lecting minerals before this, and we spent the next two months
studying, classifying, and arranging our specimens. We then decided
to take a course in ornithology, and under a teacher we studied all
that winter and spring, meeting on every Saturday evening, and
having lectures every alternate meeting, and at the other meeting
we would have discussions on the previous lecture. In June, 1885,
we adjourned for the summer. Those who went away collected
specimens, and those of us who staid at home worked in another
direction, that of widening the circle of people interested in our
work; and we succeeded so well that when we reorganized in Sep-
tember, we had on our list of honorary members, some of the most
prominent men in the city, and a suite of large rooms, nicely fur-
nished and hung with pictures, and about two hundred books in
our library. In fact, we had a new stimulus, and things looked very
bright. We had been paying ten cents a month during the summer,
and with no expenses our fund grew so that we were able to deco-
rate the room. We also received a present of a beautiful micro-
scope. We began the winter with a series of debates on the useful-
ness of certain birds; and I wish to recommend this to other Chap-
ters, as it stimulates a spirit of friendly rivalry, and a person will
read more on a subject to conquer his opponent than he otherwise
would in a month. Some of our members asked for something a
little livelier about this time, and so we organized a secret society
called the E- A- A-, which met once a month after our regular meet-
ing. This did not interfere with our work, and gave us a little fun
mixed in with it. It was decided to celebrate Christmas in a becom-
ing manner, which we did, with a banquet and speeches and a recep-
tion by the club. In January it was decided to ask some of our
honorary members to deliver lectures to the club, and a great num-
ber kindly consented. They were very interesting, although not all
relating to natural history. This is the list:
Judge Jennison, cuneiforms; Rev. R. W. Clark, geology; Dr. J.
F. Noyes, eyes, with dissections; Dr. Chittick, surveying; D. 0.
Paige, safes and locks; Judge Reilly, the right of property; Mr.
Lewis Allen, Pasteur and his work; Dr. G. P. Andrews, whales and
whale-fishing; Rev. J. N. Blanchard, books and reading.
We made excursions to a suburban farm, once a month, to study
from nature, and enjoyed them very much. We also celebrated
Agassiz's birthday. This year the arch-enemy to the A. A.- col-
lege-will force us to part, temporarily, but we hope to come together
in college next year, so please don't scratch us off; for as long as two
members are in one city, the honor of 733, now the oldest and most
widely known Chapter in Detroit, will be .upheld, and we all look
back upon theJast two .years. as containingosome.of. the happiest
Saturday evenings of our lives.- Edw. H. Smith.
741, Meadville, Pa. Good/-We have just come home from a
camping and collecting expedition. We have been gone most of
the summer. We had a very pleasant and profitable time, collecting
several thousand insects for our cabinet. Our Chapter is in a very
flourishing condition, having now fifteen members active, two hon-
orary, and three corresponding. We have quite a library, and a
very fine collection of insects, minerals, birds' eggs, and flowers.
We hold a meeting every other week, when an essay is read and
discussed.-Ward M. Sackett, Sec.
743, Detroit (F). A good lan.-Our membership is seventeen.
We have adopted the following plan of study for x886-7: .
I. Zoblogy.-a, Mammals; b, Birds; c, Reptiles; d, Fish; e,
Insects; f, Worms; g, Mollusks; h, Echinoderms. II. Botany.-
a, Palm-trees; b, Garden and Fruit trees; c, Shrubbery; d, Herbs;
e, Grasses. III. Minerals.- a, Earth and Stone; b, Salts; c,
Metals; d, Combustible Minerals.- Kate Rand, Sec.
747, Lexington, Illinois. Concise and to the point.-Our Chapter,
though small, is progressing finely, and deriving a great deal of
profit from its meetings. We have a cabinet, 546 specimens, and a
library of 104 magazines and books. We are especially interested
in Mineralogy, and would be pleased to hear from Chapters interested
in the same.-W. B. Merrill, Sec.


754 Springfield, Mass. They are workers/ "-We can muster
only four active members, but they are workers. During the past
year, we have collected- nearly two hundred different geological
specimens, some of which are rare. On the west side of our room,
above the entrance door, is a mounted deer's head from the North-
west. -Above this is a picture surrounded by Spanish moss, and
below is a bow and arrow from the South Sea Islands. At the right
hangs a mirror, below which is a gun and powder-horn used in the
Revolution, and on the floor is a knapsack used in the Civil War.
Next to this isa cabinet of miscellaneous- specimens, and on top a
shelf of books. At the right of -this is a shelf of iron ard quartz
specimens. On the east side is a large frame containing Confederate
bonds and notes, and below is a shelf of marine specimens. Next
to this comes a buffalo-horn, from which is suspended a small cabinet
of minerals. On the north side is a shelf containing Professor
Crosby's mineral collection, and in the middle of the north side is
an alcove in which is the secretary's desk and six shelves of minerals.
On the west side is a table of miscellaneous curiosities, and next to
this is a closet used for storing duplicates. Between the closet and
the entrance is a small black-walnut cabinet of coins, etc.-Harry
760, Jamaica Plain, Mass. "It is not without success."-This
Chapter was formed in December, x884. The founder was out of
school, on account of sickness, and read the reports of the A. A. in
back numbers of the ST. NICHOLAS. He interested three others
in the subject, andwe held our first meeting, December 2s, 1884.
In April, i885, a small house was lent to us by a lady. On the evening
of December ar, x885, we held a meeting in celebration of our first
anniversary. Many of our friends were present. On New-Year's
Eve we had a club supper.
On May 28, 1886, we held a meeting in commemoration of Agas-
siz, to which about thirty of our friends came.
A pleasing and instructive feature.of our club work has been our
field-meetings. We have visited all the suburbs of Boston, and went
to Fitchburg with a party from the Institute of Technology. The
president and myself went to Mt. Desert, Me., this summer, and
got many minerals and rocks.
We meet on the second and fourth Thursdays of each month. The
Chapter is divided into two parts: -one for the study of Botany, the
other of Mineralogy. They meet on the first and third Thursdays
and Fridays of each month. Some members are conducting courses
of lectures on different subjects. We do our best and hope that it is
not without success.-C. S. Greene, Sec.
766, Allegheny, Pa. (A) is at work bright and early. We all feel
happy to get back into harness,-after vacation.
We held our first-meeting for'the year last night, and I am sure
if you could have seen the bright, eager faces in our club-room, you
would have felt fully repaid for your noble efforts for the A. A.
For the winterwe have laid out a great plan of work, which, if car-
ried through, will be of more benefit to us than all our previous
three years' study.
One of our most able workers is Prof John T. Daniels. He is
our guide, and when we are in any difficulty, upon application to
him all the kinks are sure to be straightened out. His interest in
"his boys," as he calls us, is only bounded by our affection for him,
and should I write this report without making special mention of his
noble and self-sacrificing endeavors, I should feel as if I were doing
him an injustice.
The plans ofwork-we havelaid out for the coming year consists
of essays, original compositions, and lectures bay the members. We
had a great deal of discussion as to whether it were best to take up
but two studies and have all the members study thdm, or let each
one study what suited him best, and at last decided (and 1 think
wisely) on the latter. We re-almost-all -specialists, and I think will
all progress well in our own particular lines.
In the past year we have worked hard, and have profited by our
work. In the year to come we intend to work harder than ever, and,
if possible, profit more. The only thing we have to regret is that
in this city our society is not as well known as it should be. For
the purpose of spreading our name more, we intend to 'begin the
editing of a department in a paper that is circulated among the
school children here.
If I do not close soon, my long report will weary you; so with
an earnest invitation to other Chapters to correspond with us, I re-
main, yours sincerely, Fred L. Long, Sec., 14 Sixth street, Pitts-
burgh, Pa.
77o, At. Y. (T). Verygratifying.-I am now in the country, and
have met two other members of the A. A. We have been collecting
crinoid-stems.. We.find it very difficult to get them out whole. We
have been taking Prof. Crosby's course, and -found it very interest-
ing. We have eight members and are succeeding very well.-Fred-
erick W. Douglas. .
"- 776, Oakland, Calt-The Chapter has derived much benefit from
correspondence with other Chapters. We prepare, for each meeting,
a paper called "Agassiz Notes," containing a report of the various

meetings of the Chapter. Occasionally, we hold outdoor meetings,
which always prove interesting and profitable.-S. R. Wood, Sec.
787, Elizabeth, N. J. (A). We have collected a great deal and
are still collecting. We have a collection of all the rocks and the few
minerals that are found around here, besides many that are not. At
one time there were twenty-nine robins' nests,with eggs in, just around
the house, Blackbirds are also. plentiful here, building sometimes
three nests in the same tree, at different heights, but generally about
five feet apart; and yet seldom fighting.-Roy Hopping.
789, Kioto, Japan. Do they sing ii winter?--Will some of our
English members tell us whether the skylark sings in the winter in
England or not?
Two of us happened to go through the city park the day after
Christmas, some ten or fifteen minutes apart, and both heard and
saw a lark. The one -I heard Went through a variety of changes,
but did not continue singing so long as the bird usually does in the
mating season.
Mrs. Piatt has a poem in one of the October, 1885, numbers of the
Independent on Meeting a Skylark in Autumn," but she does n't
seem to have heard it sing; indeed, the burden of her song seems
to be that the lark she met was silent, or at most gave only the chirp
the bird usually gives when flushed.
The larks here stopped singing in July, for the most part, but an
occasional song was heard in the fall.- C. M. Cady.
794,,Flemningon, N. J. Ask him to resign.-We have madevery
little progress during the past two months, what with opposition by
people who think it a waste of time, and a member who is objected
to by the parents of others, on the ground that he swears and smokes
a great deal, which, I am sorry to say, is true.
We thought of dissolving and then reorganizing, without including
him. What would you advise us to do, under the circumstances?
I have a pair of flying squirrels which, I find, can not change their
course of flight. If any obstruction is held before them immediately
after their start, they sail into it, unless they drop before reaching
it.-H. E. Deats; Sec.
EXCELLENT and gratifying reportfare received also from Chapters
7o6, 708, 7X, 714, 716, 718, 725, 727, 737, 739, 742, 746, 749> 756,
761, 762, 764, 769-770, 778, 783, 784, and 788 -but as our limits
forbid-the publication of all the reports, we have printed only those
which have conformed to our rules regarding length, etc., and those
which have been sent in punctually at the appointed time. Secre-
taries of Chapters x1-oo will kindly forward their reports at any time
before January 6th,- the earlier the better. Do not exceed two pages
of commercial-note-paper.


DYCTIOPHYTONs, a very rare fossil, and fossil shells, for minerals.-
Percy C. Meserve, Bath, Steuben Co., N. Y.
Calcite, crinoid stems, fossil shells, and fossil coral, for minerals or
fossils. All specimens are good.- C. E. Boardman, Marshalltown,
Iowa, Box 1888. : .
Fine classified specimens of Coleoptera and Lepidotptera, for same.
Also Hymenojtera (undetermined), for Lefidopiera and Coleoptera.
Correspondence solicited.-Ward M. Sackett, Sec. Chapter 741,
Meadville, Pa.
SPure of A ng liera, I.nerialis, Zo, Luna, etc., and of foreign
moths and- butterflies;' for those' of Regalis, Maia, and other rare m-
sects., Correspondence requested with some one who rears Regalis.-
James L. Mitchell, Jr;, Box 58, Bloomington, Ind.
Large specimens of minerals and insects, for same. Indian relics
also desired.- Ezra R. Lamed, 5o Twenty-fourth street, Chicago,


No. Name. No. ofMembers. Address.
410 Shelbyville, Illinois.. (A) 4..Benjamin A. Cottlow, Box 635.'
229 Chicago,.Illinois (F) ........has joined Ch. ir5,.Chicago (E).:
6 Mt. Washington, Md. (A) 6.;Miss A. V. Crenshaw, Box 56.
242 Philadelphia, Pa. (I).... 4..Ph. P. Calvert,
Room 7, 520 Walnut Street.


955 Ridgefield, Conn........ 5..Roger C. Adams.
751 Plymouth, N. H............W. P. Ladd.
All are invited to join the Association.
Address. all communications for this 'department to
Pittsfield, Mass.






RHOMBOIDS. I. Across: I. Taper. 2. Saber. 3. Tenor. 4.
Never. 5. Wedge. II. Across: i. Clasp. 2. Ocean. 3. Tried.
4. Ensue. 5. Stems. CHARADE. Base-ball.
ANAGRAMS. I. Oliver Cromwell. 2. James Garfield. 3. Na-
poleon Bonaparte. 4. Benjamin Franklin. 5. William :Pitt. 6.
,Thomas Jefferson. 7. Abraham Lincoln. 8. Christopher Columbus.
GEOGRAPHICAL ACROSTIc. Minnesota. Cross-words: x. Man-
chester. 2. Indiana. '-3. Nevada. 4. Nicaragua. 5. Euphrates.
6. Singapore. 7. Ohio. 8. Texas. 9. Amazon.
Pi. Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.
GOLDSMITH. Traveler, line 17.
WORD-BUILDING. I. As-cent. 2. As-kant. 3. As-lope. 4. As-
sail. 5. As-sent. 6. As-sign. 7. As-sets. 8. As-size. 9. As-
sort. io. As-sure. 1i. As-tern. x2. As-tray.
DOUBLE DIAMOND. Across: I. C. 2. Boa. 3. Alack. 4.
Aniline. 5. President. 6. Catties. 7. Reits. 8. Roy. 9. N.

CUBE. From I to 2, frighten ; 2 to 4, nautical; 3 to 4, tropical;
I to 3, fragrant; 5 to 6, gangrene; 6 to 8, educible; 7 to 8, strangle;
5 to 7, glorious; i to 5; flag; a to 6, nose; 4 to 8, lobe; 3 to 7, tars.
REBUS. There 's many a slipi'twixt the cup and thelip.
TRIPLE ACROSTIC. First-row, Omnibuses; fourth row, steam-
ship; last row, steel pens. Cross-words: r. Orestes. 2. Martlet.
3. Naperie. 4. Imbathe. 5. Brimful. 6. Use soap. 7. Shuhite.
8. Environ. 9. Surplus.
GREEK CROSS. I. i. Manna. 2. Avail. 3. Named. 4. Niece.
5. Alder. II. i. Aroma. 2. Rival. 3. Ovoid. 4. Maize. 5.
Alder. II. Alder. 2. Leave. 3. Dares. 4. Event 5.
Rests. 1V. i. Rests. 2. Ethel. 3. Shine. 4. Tense. 5. Sleep.
V. i. Rests. 2. Exert. 3. Senor. 4. Trope. 5. Strew.
WORD-SQUARE. I. i. Lover. 2. Oxide. 3. Vigil. 4. Edile.
5. Relet. II. i. Trade. 2. Ripen. 3. Apple. 4. Delhi. 5.
Eneid. III. i. Abase. 2. Baden. 3. Admit. .4. Seize. 5.
Enter. IV. I. Vases. 2. Adore. 3. Solar. 4. Erase. 5. Sered.
V. i. Hovel. 2. Opera. 3. Venus. 4. Erupt. 5. Lasts. VI.
i. Start.- 2. Tiber. 3. Above. 4. Revie. 5. Trees.

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 St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 20, from Maud E. Palmer-Paul
Reese- Maggie T. Turrill E. C. T. and -N. K. T.- John Grandpa and Sharley San Anselmo Valley Francis W. Islip Nellie
and Reggie --The-'Spencers- W.R. M.--Two Cousins -"N. O. Tary "- C. and H. Condit- Edith McDonald.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 20, from Tad, i--N. L. H., 2- Westboro Jo,
ii M. Sherwood, 7- Aloha, 4- Watermelon Days, Effie K. Talboys, io- Tell, I- Normi, i F. Jarman, i -E. A. R., 7-
Beth, i2-Primary, i-" Waterbury," i--J. S. L., 3 -Florence A. F. and Bessie S. P., 12-Ben Zeene, 3-"Sallie L. and Johnny
C.," 8 Jo and I, 9 R. L., i-Jet, 6- Arthur and Bertie K., 8 -Arthur G. Lewis, ir--Agricola, x2 -L. M. B., ro--Daisy and
Mabel, io Original Puzzle Club," 9- St. Autyus, 1o.


quent, and leave a relative. 4. Behead singly, and leave retired.
5. Behead a serf, and leave to wash. 6. Behead a young branch,
and leave the cry of an owl. 7. Behead an occurrence, and leave
to utter. 8. Behead to draw along the ground, and leave to scoff
The beheaded letters will spell the name of a summer resort.
UARRHH orffheart misstarch !
Grin lal eth yrmer slelb,
Nda grinb het deargrinss lal daunor
Ot rhea eht alte eh sletl. F. A. w.

I. r. To tinge. 2. A fruit. 3. A kind of cloth. 4. Public.
5. Leases.
-II. 1. A heathen." 2.tnextinguished. 3. Scoffs. 4. To turn
away. 5. Abodes.
III. I. Informed. 2. A thin cake. 3. Succeeding. 4. A bird.
5. Blundered. PHIL O. SOPHER.

SACRoss: i. In whip-poor-will. 2. A brilliantly colored bird, with
Harsh note, common in Europe and America. 3. A wading bird,
remarkable for its peculiar flight, found in the United States. 4. A
small, slender hawk, of reddish fawn color, spotted with white and
..black,.aqd common all pver.the world. 5..- A rasorial bird, having
S'feathered feet and a short bill, ahd-highly prized for food. 6. A web-
footed water-fowl, remarkable for its enormous bill, found about the
Mediterranean. 7. Sea-fowls, commonly called "boobies." 8. A
THE above illustration shows an author and nine of his works, web-footed marine bird, unable to fly, found only in the South tem-
What are they ? 0. N. N. perateand frigid regions. 9. A genus of birds, including the sun-
BEHEADINGS. bird, or honey-sucker.
The central letters, reading downward, spell the name of a grouse-
i. BEHEAD what is often on the breakfast-table, and leave a bundle like bird, of a gray color, mottled with brown, found in Europe, Si-
of paper. 2. Behead a fruit, and leave active. 3. Behead to fre- beria, and North Africa. L. LOS REGNI.



WHEN the above rebus has been rightly deciphered, a very affect-
ing little story will be found as the answer, w. s. R.

o o
400000 5
0 o o 0
0 0
o 0 o 0
2 0 0 0 0 0 3
o o0
FROM I to 2, loose gravel and pebbles on shores or coasts; from x
to 3, a small plate or boss of shining metal; from 2 to 3, a mark in-
dicating a question; from 4 to 5, a freebooter; from 4 to 6, a plant
used in dyeing and coloring; from 5 to 6, to turn aside from the
right path. "MYRTLE GREEN."


LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. A numeral. 2. A covering. 3. A
mark in printing. 4. A Brazilian parrot. 5. A species of hickory,
and its fruit. 6. To convert into leather. 7, In twine.
RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: i. A numeral. 2. A color. 3. Har-
monized. 4. A vessel carried by soldiers. 5. Indigent. 6. The
governor of Algiers. 7. In twine. ROSE MADDER."


I. PRIMALS, a keeper; finals, scarcity. CROSS-WORDS: I. Un-
civilized. 2. Part of a wheel. 3. A girl'sname. 4. An agent. 5.
Toissue. 6. Precipitate.
II. Primals, a filament; finals, a sliding box. CROss-wORDS:
i. To watch. 2. White with age. 3. A cape on the coast of Por-
tugal. 4. An old word meaning plenty. 5. Pain. 6. A graceful

III. Primals, recompense; finals, aversion. CROSS-WORDS: r.
A plant that grows in wet ground. 2. A volcano. 3. To wither.
4. To declare. 5. To demolish. 6. Achievement.
The cross-words in all the foregoing acrostics are of equal length.
The letters which form the primals and finals mayall be found in the

ACROSS: i. In tongs. 2. A step. 3. Stoppers. 4. A low,
oven-shaped mound. 5. Trading. 6. Trees suitable for timber.
DOWNWARD: I. In tongs. 2. Twice. 3. Akind of meat. 4.
An ornament in a building. 5. The government of the Turkish
Empire. 6. To gather for preservation. 7. Part of a costume. 8.
To agitate. 9. A unit. to. Two-thirds of an era. i. In tongs.

I. Across: i. A meeting held by law-pupils, for the purpose of
trying imaginary cases. 2. Profitable. 3. A glutton. 4. Design.
Primals, philosophers of the east; centrals, a clique; finals, the
sea-swallow. Primals, centrals, and finals combined, an optical
instrument and toy, invented by Athanasius Kircher.
II. Across: I. Richer. 2. A domestic manager. 3. Tending
to provoke. 4.-Pure.
Primals, the smallest particle imaginable; centrals, a pavilion:
finals, small Portuguese coins. Primals, centrals, and finals com-
bined, trees of a certain kind. F. L. F.


I AM composed of one hundred letters, and form a four-line stanza
by W. R. Spencer.
My 93-26-47-76-17 is a Christmas decoration. My 4o-56-3I-8-o2
is found in barns. My 66-53-98-86 is celebrity. My 49-12-75-20
is a loud sound. My 72-68-3 is sometimes on the breakfast table.
My 24-84-61-37-29 is being manufactured all summer. My 38-14-
43-88-15 is what usually follows a chill. My 2x-64-58-32-82 is a
circular frame, turning on an axle. My 62-45-60-34-78 is an appa-
rition. My 1-18-90-70-51-5 is to traffic. My 71-94-2-10-28-22-
too is a lattice-work for supporting plants. My 97-36-73-85 is a
pronoun. My 41-54-91-96-23 is an appointment to meet. My
6-55-30 is a color. My 4-81-48 is a snake-like fish. My 92-46-I9-
77is to summon. My 52-44-1-74-9-39 is a small stone. My 25
-79-33-35-95-27-67 is unfriendly. My 87-65-50-89-7 83-57-16-
42-69-63-13-99-59 is a greeting to all the readers of ST. NICHOLAS.



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