Front Cover
 An April jester
 An archery jingle
 The drummer on the snowshoes
 'Cross country with the news
 Working monkeys
 The extraordinary elephant
 The king and the students
 Juan and Juanita
 The foolish flamingo
 The story of the Merrimac and the...
 A song of spring
 A frozen dragon
 Jenny's boarding-house
 My flowers
 The queerness of Quelf
 A bird that is fond of sport
 The tea kettle song
 The children's crusade
 Little mittens
 The playful pheasant
 The letter-box
 Tommy, the clown (Illustration...
 Report concerning "The king's move...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00183
 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: VID00183
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
    An April jester
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
    An archery jingle
        Page 413
        Page 414
    The drummer on the snowshoes
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
    'Cross country with the news
        Page 418
        Page 419
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
    Working monkeys
        Page 423
        Page 424
        Page 425
    The extraordinary elephant
        Page 426
    The king and the students
        Page 427
    Juan and Juanita
        Page 428
        Page 429
        Page 430
        Page 431
        Page 432
        Page 433
    The foolish flamingo
        Page 434
    The story of the Merrimac and the Monitor
        Page 435
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
        Page 439
        Page 440
        Page 441
        Page 442
        Page 443
        Page 444
    A song of spring
        Page 445
    A frozen dragon
        Page 446
        Page 447
    Jenny's boarding-house
        Page 448
        Page 449
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
    My flowers
        Page 455
    The queerness of Quelf
        Page 456
    A bird that is fond of sport
        Page 456
        Page 457
    The tea kettle song
        Page 458
        Page 459
    The children's crusade
        Page 460
        Page 461
        Page 462
        Page 463
        Page 464
        Page 465
        Page 466
        Page 467
        Page 468
        Page 469
    Little mittens
        Page 470
        Page 471
        Page 472
    The playful pheasant
        Page 473
    The letter-box
        Page 474
        Page 475
        Page 476
    Tommy, the clown (Illustration)
        Page 477
    Report concerning "The king's move puzzle"
        Page 478
    The riddle-box
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

r,- I

VW 11 I.Vo, 11
/ I

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(SEE PAGE 424.)







VOL. XIV. ,. APRIL, 'r887. No. 6.

[C.:pF'.ght. i'.. b5 THE CENTLiRi CO ]



OUTDOORS the white rain coming down
SMade rivers of the streets in town,
: .And where the snow in patches lay
It washed the Winter's sighs:away. :
: : How fast it fell! How.warm it felt!
S The icicles began to melt -
S...Asilver. needle seemed each one
Thrust in.tle furnace of the. Sun,
S. The:Vulcan Sun 'who forged them all---
In raindrops, crystals round and small.
.The air. wras filled with tiny iopes
: .: :On which were strung these.April hopes,-.
. .: White water-beads that:searched the ground;
U ntl th ththirt) seeds-were found.

:Then came blue. sky; the streets were'clean,
And in-the garden.spots df green
Were gli sten in golden light,-
The grass and Spring-almost in sight !
A blue-bird sang its song near by,-
Oh happy Spring is come, thought I; -
When, all at-once the air grew chill,.
Again the snow-flakes fell until
The ground was covered, and the trees
Stood in the drifts up-to their knees.

I think this bird who dared to sing
Was premature about the Spring,
Or else he joked in manner cool,
And caroled lightly, "Afril Fool!"

,~r .~:




A GREAT many years ago, when Elizabeth was
Queen of England, there lived near the little
village of Harrow-on-the-Hill a man by the name
of John Lyon. He was an honest, well-to-do yeo-
man, who cared as much for his neighbor as for
himself. Harrow, ten miles from the great city of
London, was then a small place, with a main street
leading up to the top of the hill, and a few narrow
lanes straggling down the hillside to pretty redfarm-
houses and shady woods, just as they do to-day.
People in John Lyon's time were beginning to
care more for learning than they ever had before;
but their chances of being taught were few, and
the worthy yeoman thought there was no better way
to help his poorer fellow-villagers than by having
their children educated for them. He was a rich
man. Besides a farm at Preston, he owned a min-
eral spring, to which pilgrims came from far and
near, as its waters were very healing. Almost all
of them, as they left, would drop a few pence into
the purse which he left there for that purpose.
From the large income which he made in this way,
John Lyon gave a certain sum every year to pay
for the schooling of poor boys in Harrow. When
he was certain that good came of this charity, he
decided to found a school, so that, even after his
death and until the end of time, the sons of poor
men and women in his native place could be taught
at his expense.

This was in i571, and Queen Elizabeth gave
him a charter for his school as soon as he asked
her for it. But it was not until forty years later,
in 1611, that -his "well meete and convenient
roomes" for schoolmaster, ushers, and scholars
were built.
When John Lyon died, he was buried in the
little church on the top of the hill, and just beyond
the school buildings. It was on one of the grave-
stones in front of this church, and on the brow of
the hill, that Byron, who was a Harrow. boy, used
to sit for hours by himself, writing poems. For
this reason it is now called Byron's Tomb.
The schoolhouse which John Lyon built is still
standing. There is a room downstairs where all
the boys in the early days had their classes. But
now it is only used two or three times a week, when
masters and scholars assemble in it for prayers. It
is a long, narrow room, with high, old-fashioned
windows. The walls are wainscoted, and all over
the wainscoting and on the benches and desks, on
the masters' tables, and even on the head-master's
chair, schoolboys for the last three hundred years
have carved their names. Some of these names
are large and sprawly, others small and neat; and
they are so close together that there is no space
left for any new ones to be added. On one side,
in very large letters, Byron's name is cut in two dif-
ferent places, and near it-is that'of Peel, the great










English statesman. The bol s were really forbid-
den to do this; and every name, you may be sure,
represents a good punishment. But the masters
are now glad that the boys were disobedient; for
many became famous in after life, and their school-

of which are within ten minutes' walk of the school-
rooms. Many are very pretty, and around them
are large gardens, full of bright flowers, and smooth
lawns for tennis. In each of the larger houses
there are from thirty to forty boys; in the smaller


boy carvings are pointed out with pride. Harro-
vians, as Harrow boys are called, now have their
names carved for them on new panels fastened to
the wall for the purpose, and they think it quite an
If John Lyon could come back to Harrow to-day,
SI do not believe he would recognize his school. And
there have been many changes in the rules as well
as in the buildings. The boys have shorter hours
for study and more time for play. But the greatest
change of all is that the boys who now go to Har-
row are not free, but paying, scholars. Indeed,
they pay so much that only very rich people can
send their sons to the school. It happened that
John Lyon said in his directions about the boys,
that the master could receive, besides the regular
pupils, "so many foreigners "-: by which he meant
boys from other parts of England-as could be con-
veniently taught. The school was so good that
every year the number of these foreigners" be-
came greater, until now there are more than five
hundred, while there are only two or three "foun-
dationers," or free scholars.
The boys board with the different masters.
There are fifteen or sixteen boarding-houses, all

ones, only nine or ten. In the former, two or three
boys room together; and all have their meals in
the same hall, the master of the house presiding
at dinner. The sixth form, or eldest boys, take
their tea and breakfast apart from the others, and
are waited on by their fags. In the small houses
each boy has a room to himself, and he and his
fellow-boarders breakfast and dine with the mas-
ter's family; and a very comfortable and homelike
time they have of it.
In every boy's room there is a Harrow bed,-a
little low cot which during the day is folded up
into a cupboard and out of sight. Then there are
the wash-stand and dressing table, and whatever
ornaments the boys may choose to add.
The boys are. very loyal to their own houses.
Each house has its own particular rules and inter-
ests, the boys in it playing foot-ball together against
the other houses, and singing together. Then the
rules about fagging and other customs vary in the
different houses,-consequently, some of the houses
are better liked than others; and boys who want to
get in them sometimes have to wait two or three
years for a vacancy. These houses make Harrow-
on-the-Hill a lively little town during school terms.



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The head-master has the chief control of the
school. Two or three times a week the boys meet
in Speech Room, a large hall, with rows of seats
forming a semicircle opposite a wide stage. Here
the head-master gives whatever general orders are
necessary; for, at other times, the only boys he
sees are those in the sixth form or those who board
in his house. The boys during school hours are
under the superintendence of the masters of their
forms; and when they are in their houses, they are
under the charge of the masters living there. Next
in authority to the masters are the monitors, who
are the first sixteen boys in the sixth form. They
read lessons in Chapel, keep order at "' bill,"- a
ceremony which I shall explain to you presently,-
shut the door for prayers, and fulfill one or two
other small duties. They have also a little more
liberty than the other boys. When they are on
duty, they ate let off from school,- though, of
course, they must prepare their lessons and keep
up with their form. Then, they can go to the
school library whenever they choose. This library
is a beautiful large room, ornamented with busts
and portraits of famous old Harrovians, a copy of
the tablet erected to John Lyon by the people of
Harrow, and a large photograph of Queen Eliza-
beth's charter. Opposite the door is a wide, low
window with cushioned seats in it; and I think
there are few pleasanter places to sit, for from it
you look down the hillside to the foot-ball field and

the green meadows beyond; and on clear days
you can see, away off in the distance, the towers
and spires of London.
The sixth form, to which the monitors belong,
is the highest in the school. There are three di-
visions to it, which include about seventy-five boys
altogether. These are the elect, whose baths and
fires, meals and messages, are attended to by the
younger boys. But, according to a curious un-
written law of the school, the boy who has never
been a fag can not have a fag. Therefore, if a boy
who has always lived in a small house, where there
is no fagging, moves into a large house when he
goes into the sixth form, he must first serve an
apprenticeship before he has a right to give orders
to the fags. For one day, and in some houses for
an entire fortnight, he waits on the sixth form, who
take great delight in sending him on long messages,
and in making him bring them all their extra dishes
from the confectionery or "tuck" shops.
The fifth form is next in rank. It also has
three divisions, and the boys who belong to them
form an intermediate class, who are not allowed
to have fags and yet are too old to be fags. Next
in order are the upper and modern removes; and
these classes compose the upper school. Once a
boy has reached the modern remove, he puts on
his tails," or tailed coat, and is a small boy no
longer. It is then that he begins to love Harrow.
I do not think many other schoolboys love their





schools as much as Harrovians do theirs. .Their
affection lasts with their.life; Whenever anything
is needed at Harrow, if a circular is. sent around.
to scholars who have left, they are sure to answer
to the call, though they may have grown old and
gray, or have moved long since to far India or the
Colonies. An old Harrovian away off in Allaha-
bad wrote,.in 1864, a song for Harrow boys to
sing, which shows how. strong the school feeling
is. This is the last verse:

"And when at last old age is ours, and manhood's
strength has fled,
And young ambition's fire is cold, and earthly
hope lies dead,
Once more amid our early haunts we feel our
boyhood's thrill,
And keep a niche within our hearts for Harrow-
For, searching England far and wide, no school
can well be found
That sends forth truer gentlemen, or stands on
higher ground."

In.the lower school, where the boys wear jack-
ets, the highest classes are the two lower removes.
These are followed by the three shells. The word
shell comes from ichelle, the French for ladder;
for, at first there were no removes, and the shells
were really the steps by which the boys went up
from the lower to the higher forms. It is well to
know the meaning of the word; for, otherwise, it
would seem-to be a very foolish and unmeaning
name for a class. Lowest of all is the fourth form,
which, like the others, has three divisions. All the
boys in the lower school, and also those in the two
upper removes, have to take turns at fagging.
Each one is on duty for a certain length of time,
as day fag, night fag, or find fag. The day fag
has to stay in his house all day long, in case he
may be wanted. He has to keep the fires of the
sixth-form boys burning, and he must fill their
baths after foot-ball, and empt :their basins in
the evening. The find fag is the marketer; that
is, he goes to the tuck shop for sausages or eggs
or whatever dish it may please his masters to
prder. The night fags run on messages during
the evening and fetch hot water for the sixth
form. 'Whenr thee, had to go down to the kitchen
for it, there used to be much noise and confusion,
so that, to prevent it, a gas-stove has been put in
some of the houses, at the end of the hall up-
stairs. As night work is thought the easiest, it is
usually given to the boys in the upper removes.
In some houses fagging duties are lighter than in
others; but, light or heavy, the boys never rebel
against them.

Now that I have told you whatthe classes are,
and where the boys live, you will be curious to
know how the day is spent at Harrow. An Amer-
ican boy who has been there several years has
written for me, and for the benefit of the readers
of ST. NICHOLAS, a short account of his school
We have to be in school every morning by half-past seven; the
school bell rings first at a quarter to seven, and again at a quarter-
past; and it rings for a few minutes before nearly all the 'schools'
during the day. First school lasts from half-past seven to nine,
when we have breakfast; and then we have until ten o'clock free.
From ten to one (dinner-time) we are in school" one,two, or three
hours. Then on half-holidays (Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Satur-
days), we have the afternoon to ourselves, except that we must an-
swer to our names at bill' at a quarter to two, and at four and six in
the summer term, and-at a quarter to two and a quarter-past four in
the other terms. 'Lock-up,' in summer, is at half-past eight, and at
other times at half-past six. No boy may be out of his house after
'lock-up.' On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays the summer
hours are: third school at three, fourth school at five; in winter
they are half an hour later. Each of these schools lasts an hour. At
six or half-past we have tea; at half-past eight, supper; at a quarter-
past nine, prayers; and at ten the gas is turned off. During the
evening we are supposed to do our work for first school next day.
On Sunday, we must be up by half-past eight for chapel, and during
the day we have to go to chapel twice again, at eleven and six. At
* three we have an hour's Bible lesson, which has-to be prepared
beforehand. FRANK IRWIN."
"Bill" is a peculiar Harrow term, and means
the calling over of names on half-holidays. And
this is done two or three times in the course of the
At the appointed hour, the great school bell
rings. It is so loud that you can hear it even in
the meadows and-lanes at the foot of the hill. At
its first sound, the boys come trooping through the
streets from the cricket: fields and racquet courts,
from the cake shops and their own rooms, or from
wherever they may be spending their half-holiday,
to the -high-walled yard in front of the old school-
building.. They all wear white straw hats with
very wide brims, which they)call "straws." These
have either blue or black ribbons around their
crowns, and an elastic, such as little. girls wear
on their hats, which the boys pull down a little
way over their hair' at the back of their heads.
It can not be of much use; but then, I suppose,
Harrovians have -always worn it, and so they still
keep it, just as the Blue-Coats keep their yellow
stockings. The cricket "Eleven," who are looked
up to as the most important beings in Harrow, if
not in the world, are distinguished from the others
by their white and black straws." The boys
wear these hats all the year around, in winter as
well as summer, changing .them on Sundays for
tall silk hats. The younger boys wear black jack-
ets; but. the older ones have coats made like
dress-coats, and with these they wear any: waist-
coats and trousers they .like, so that they always
look as if they were in half evening dress. These.
coats, in the school slang, :are always known as

2887.] :


408 HARROW-a N-THE-HILL. [Ann.,

"tails." A story is told about them. Once, on
a very dark night, the head-master saw about
half a dozen boys coming out of the village inn,
where they had been positively forbidden to go.
He could not see their faces, and as they all ran as
soon as he spoke to them, he only succeeded in
seizing one of the number. Pulling out his knife,
he cut off a tail from this boy's coat and let him
go, saying, "Now, sir, you may go home. I will
know you in class to-morrow morning by this."
The next morning came, and the head-master


waited at his desk, ready to punish his victim with'
great severity for the offense was counted a very:
serious one. But when the boys of his form came
in and passed, one by one, by his desk, each had
but a single tail to his coat. They all had ruined
their "tails to save their friend.'
But while I have been describing their coats and
telling a story about them, I have left the boys in
the yard, waiting for "bill." Presently one of the
masters, in gown and cap, comes in, and stands on
the steps of the school building. The monitor of
the day comes and stands at his side. Then all
frolic stops, and the master begins to call the
names in regular order. The boys, in single file,
march in front of him, and each one in turn answers
by touching his hatjust as soldiers do, with his right
hand, at the same time saying, "Here, sir!"
The monitor writes down the names of the absent,
and before the day is over, he has to hunt them
up, find out the reason of their absence, and give

in his report to the master. If a boy is detected
by the latter coming forward out of turn, he is
called back and ordered to write fifty lines before
next "bill." In the summer, when a great many
of the older boys spend'their half-holiday playing
cricket, the ordinary "bill" would be a very long
and serious interruption to their sport. The mas-
ters know this, and as they think -almost as much
of the boys' games as of their studies, they have a
special "bill" for cricketers. At the same hour that
the other boys assemble in the schoolyard, those in
the cricket-field form in a line, every fifth boy
standing a little farther forward than the rest. He
is called a shepherd, and the four between him and
the next shepherd are his sheep. Then the master
starts from the top of the line and runs quickly
down to the other end. As he passes, each shep-
herd answers for his sheep, and thus a great deal
of time is saved. The shepherds, like the mon-
itors, must explain the absence of the missing
Writing lines is the penance Harrovians do for
*all their sins, in and out of school. If a boy is late
for school, he writes lines; if he misses "bill," he
writes lines. If the lines are not finished at a
stated time, their number is doubled. There was
one clever boy who escaped writing half the
ordered. quantity; and the- asters tell the story,
of how he did it to this day. He was an untidy boy
and 'was often .taken to .task for his carelessness
and disorder. One day his master, who had very
dignified and impressive manners, and who always
said "we" instead of you" when talking to the
boys, found occasion to reprove him. :
"'We do riot look very clean," he said, with
much severity. "We have not washed our hands
this morning. Have we? '
"I don't know about yours," was the impudent
boy's answer, ".but I 've washed iine."
"Ah !" said the master, "we are very imperti-
nent to-day. We will have to write a hundred lines
before the next 'bill.'"
When "bill" time came, the master sent for
the boy.
Have we written our lines? he asked.
I've written my fifty," the boy answered very
promptly,. handing in his paper; "but I don't
know whether you 've done your half "
When not in school, -the boys are their own
masters. During their free hours until "lock
up," they can do very much as they please. Of
course, certain things are forbidden them, but
there are no wardens or beadles to keep an eye
on their movements. This independence makes
them very manly and teaches them to take care
of themselves.
Most of their leisure time is spent in different





kinds of sport. This is Lord Byron's account of
what they did during their hours of play:

" Yet when confinement's lingering hour was done,
Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one !
Together we impell'd the flying ball,
Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,
Or shared the produce of the river's spoil;
Or, plunging from the green, declining shore,
Our pliant limbs the buoyant water bore;
In every element unchanged, the same,-
All, all that brothers should be but the name."

but the principal courts, for fives as well as for
racquets, are built together on the hillside, near
the old schoolhouse, and here many boys, and
masters, too, spend the greater part of their half-
holidays. A flight of wide stone steps leads to
them from the yard where "bill" is held. In
whatever direction you turn from the school-
house, unless it is to go to the parish church, you
must walk downhill; and these steps make the
steep descent here a little easier. At certain hours
of the afternoon they are crowded with boys, racquet
in hand, who rush down at break-neck speed.


The three great games at Harrow nowadays
are cricket, racquets, and foot-ball. While Har-
rovians are very skillful in all of them, and are
very close rivals of Eton, Winchester, Westmin-
ster, and Rugby boys, with whom they have their
great matches, the game in which they most excel
is racquets. They are always sure to win the cup,
or prize, whenever they play racquets against other
schools. They have a number of very fine courts,
a few of which are in the yards around the houses;
VOL. XIV.-27.

As you begin to descend, you will notice on your
right hand a small grassplot which is shut in by
the school wall and the high wall of the first
racquet court. This small green place has played
so important a part in the school life that you
must not pass it without learning something about
it. It was the old "milling-ground," or battle-
field, where all fights took place in the presence
of the whole school. At Harrow, the rule is that
school battles must be fought in public. None,



410. HARROW-ON-THE-HI LL; [Ann.,



therefore, could ever come off without good reason,
and they have always to be ca! ri. d on fairly. The
consequence is there have not been any fights
for years.
Cricket is quite as popular as ;a.-quecis, and the
fame of Hair o, buo, las cricketers has spread far
and.wide. I ;an sure it has already reached many
of my readers; but still, they,are niot always as-
successful at it as the y are at racquets. They are
sometimes beaten by Etonians, with whpm every
summer the, hace a gr.:it 'i.dat:h in Lord's Cricket
Ground out in St. John's Wood, a part of London.
This always comes off in the height of the season,
and everybody goes to it; :and everybody in the
fashionable world talks about it for weeks before-
hand and afterward. At Harrow there are two
large cricket-fields, which lie at the foot of the hill,
about eight minutes' walk from the schoolhouse,
One was ghai;n to the school by George IIL, .as
a notice -forbidding "trespassing on these prem-
ises" tells you. The other, on the opposite side
of the road, where sheep graze in the quiet twilight
hour, after the cricketers have gone home, was
bought a few years ago by old Harrovians.
On bright holiday afternoons the fields are gay
and lively. If a match is not going on, there is
sure to be a number of boys practicing. The last
match of the year, played in the early part of Octo-
ber, is called Goose Match." This is another
peculiar Harrow name, but it is not without its
meaning. The players in the evening, have a great
dinner, at which the chief dish is goose. This has
been the custom for so many.years that the match
is now nicknamed after the dinner.
One of the greatest honors-in the school is to be
elected into,the cricket "Eleven," which is called
" getting your flannels." .When a boy, because
of his.good playing, is promoted to it, he i 'ch.er.ed


,, .. .. ~I~

~'~ .

at the next "bill" by the whole school. He then,
and then only, can wear white flannel trousers,
while he decorates his short blue coat---which the
bo. s are ino:u alio,ed to use when going to their
irmne iith -brass buttons. Another proud dis-
tinction is the white waistcoat, which no' boys but
the "Eleven" can wear.
The fo.:,t-ball f;ld is on the oiliir _-id of the hill.
You can rt s ir from the library indov.w. "Footer,"
-this game is called at the .school,. Harrow boys
have a way of shortening famihar names and add-
ing "er" to them. They call the Sick-room,
"sicker," and 'Speech Room and speech-day,
"speecher," and the duck-pond where they bathe
and swim, "Ducker,'
Three times in every.two weeks there is'a school
compul "; that is, compulsory footer," when all
the boys have to play, Every now and then, too,
there are matches between the houses, .and very
exciting they are. You can hear the hurrahing
and the cries of the winning side distinctly on the
hill. Then the masters play against the houses,
challenging one at a time, and, as a rule, defeat
them. On half-holiday afternoons, and on other
days between half-past one and three, the boys,
and often the masters, hurry down the lane behind
the building where the laboratory is, running as
fast as if they wore the seven-league boots of fairy-
lore;..and then, with much noise of tramping,
they rush through the gate at the foot of the lane
out into the field beyond. This field is;so large
that almost all the boys can play on. it at: once;
Each house has a large square measured off for its
use, and the boys always wear, when playing, their
house colors. If you go down to the field when
they are at work, you will see troops of players in
red,, yellow and black, magenta and white, and
other gayly colored shirts and caps, with white




887.J HARR O W-O N-TH E-H ILL. 41

knickerbockers, tearing across the green after the
balls, or else struggling and pushing for them,
boys and masters rolling over and jumping to their'
feet again almost instantaneously.
Every house has its "footer" colors, but the
school color is blue, a dark shade very like that
of the University if Oxford. The boys are very
proud of their blue. They think that it, like all
else belonging to Harrow, is finer than anything
to be' found in other schools. They say that when

"The Alps and the white Himalayas
Are all very pleasant to see,
But of right little, tight little, bright little hills,
Our Harrow is highest, say we."

The great "footer" match of the year is on
October 9, or "Founder's Day." This is the great
day of the year. It is held in honor of the
founder, "Lyon of Preston, Yeoman John." A
sermon is preached, old Harrovians come back


their blue ribbons are faded and soiled, then they
hand them over to Eton boys, whose color is light
blue. This. is really the only thing they will tell
you of Etonians, their great cricket rivals. Even
Harrow masters pretend to know nothing of the
manners and customs of the school at Windsor,
which is so near that its towers can be seen from
-the hillside. For, why should they care to know
about any other place than Harrow? Wind-
sor towers are high, but so is Harrow Hill, and
they never grow tired of praising the high ground
on which their school is built. They think, as one
of the school songs says:

and meet at a dinner, and late in the afternoon the
boys assemble in Speech Room and sing in chorus
Harrow songs.
I hardly know whether the Gymnasium, the Car-
penter's Shop and the different school societies
ought to be counted as work or play. Many boys
'spend their free afternoons in gymnastic exercises
and in working with the carpenter. They have
a fine large workshop, and when I saw it, one
boy was busy building a canoe. The principal
society is the Scientific Association, whose meetings
the members look forward to with much eagerness.
Sometimes a boy, and sometimes a master, reads


a paper, or lectures on an interesting or important
subject. Then, too, there is a Volunteer Corps, to
which many boys belong. It drills every morning,
and occasionally turns out with the school band.
Every year, eight of the best shots in the corps go
to Wimbledon to shoot in the great match there.
One thing even Harrovians admit is needed to
make their school quite perfect. This is a good-
sized stream of water. Lord Byron wrote about
sharing "the river's spoil," but this could only
have been on rare occasions, for the Thames is
many miles from Harrow.' As it is, Ducker is
the only piece of water which the boys can reach
conveniently. I do not suppose a finer swimming-
bath is to be found in England. It is a large tank
paved with asphalt, with gracefully curved banks,
along which are flower-beds and thick shrubbery
and,'in some places, beautiful large trees; while
from the water, the boys can always see the hill
and the church spire and the schoolhouse. Then,
too, 'there are rustic benches and little dressing-
houses, whereon the names of the champion swim-
mers--"dolphins," they are called--are carved.
But "Ducker," fine as it is, is not large enough for
boating. In respect to water sports, Eton is really
better off, the boys there having the Thames at
their disposal.
Perhaps it is to make up for this loss that so
much is thought of singing at Harrow. The boys
all must learn to sing. At one time they charged
themselves with testing the voices of new-comers.
The unfortunate new boy was made to stand on a
table, holding a lighted candle in each hand, and
in this position he had to sing a song. If he failed,
he was forced to drink a glass of soap and water.
Something of the same kind took place during
Christmas term. All the boys in a house would
meet in one room, and the Footer Eleven,"
clothed in red dressing-gowns, would sit solemnly
on a bench in front of a table. On this every boy
in turn stood and sang his song, holding, like the
new boy, a candle in each hand. On one side was
an officer for the evening bearing a toasting-fork;
a second, armed with a racquet, was stationed on
the other side. When the singer stopped in his
song or hesitated, the officers gave him a good
thrashing with their weapons. The general result
was, as a head-boy of the school once wrote, a
good deal of ftin, and some slight damage to the
trousers." Now in 'many of the houses, the new
boys are still forced to sing, but the candles and
soap and water are left out of the ceremony.
Besides this, at the supper at the end of every
term, which is a very jolly affair with much
speech-making and'many toasts, every boy in the

house is obliged to sing at least two or three
verses of a song. The little fellows look forward
to the evening with great fear and trembling, and
practice their songs for weeks beforehand.
But the boys do not only sing in play. They are
serious enough about it sometimes. Every week
there is singing in one or other of the houses, when
the singing-master presides, and many of the
other masters and their families come to listen.
The boys have a large collection of songs. These
are not in the least like those popular in American
schools and colleges. They are all about Harrow
and its greatness; about John Lyon and Queen
Bess and the charter; about new boys and their
first hardships, and the old boys and their noble
doings. There is one called Harrow up on the
Hill," which is so full of the love and pride Harrow
boys feel for their school, that I think it will be the
best ending to my description of their life :

Three leagues to north of London town,
I. Harrow up on the Hill.
SThere stands a school of high renown,
Harrow up on the Hill.
SLow at her feet the rolling shire,
Groves around her in green attire,
And soaring above her a silent spire,
Harrow up on the Hill.

"Men of honor in English realms,
Harrow up on the HilL
Have roamed as boys beneath her elms,
Harrow up on the HilL
And round the school which loves to claim
The heirloom of their noble name
They cast the halo of their fame,
Harrow up on the Hill.

Others may boast of a Founder-King:
Harrow up on the Hill.
We have a different birth to sing,
Harrow up on' the Hill.
Glorious founders have there been,
But never a grander pair were seen
Than Yeoman John and the Virgin Queen:
Harrow up on the Hill.

And if they ask what made her great,
Harrow up on the Hill.
Was it her riches, pride, or fate ?
Harrow up on the Hill.
Say that she rose because she would,
Because her sons were wise and good,
And bound in closest brotherhood !
Harrow up on the Hill."





IT is early, I know,
Early and chilly;
But I have an engagement
With Daffy-down-dilly.

It's the time o' year
For litter and muss,
And the gardens and borders
Depend upon us.

At. an archery party near larjet.
A {imid yoiun lady named. Harget
Said: 'll sit over here
V/here there's -nothing to fear. -
'And (she sar down in front ofAthe target.



rH- -".




GOODnNIGHT, pretty Sun, good-night;.
I 've watched your purple and golden light
While you are sinking away.
And some one has just been telling me
You 're making, over the shining sea,
Another beautiful day;
That, just at the time I atin going to sleep,
The children;there are jl;ing a peep
At your face,-beginning to-say,
Good-morning! "just when T Siy good-night!
Now-, beautiil 'Sun, iF thcy 'e rtld me right,
I wish you 'd say good-morring :r me
To all the little ones over the sea.



H, Uncle I believe
/ the Indians are go-
ing to make war!"
ilwas the wild exclama-
Vo tion of little Ben, as he
S burst into the study where
S Uncle Martin was quietly
"Indeed?"' said Uncle Martin, smiling at the
idea of a few squaws making war on a village only
a short distance from the city of Tdronto.
But Benny .was fresh from England, and his
mind was filled with exciting tales about Indians
and tomahawks, and his interest in such matters
had lately been intensified by learning that a
number of half-breeds and squaws were encamped
near by, for the purpose of selling bead and quill
work. The idea of seeing a real Indian camp
completely filled Benny's brain for the next few
days; and as his uncle could not take him, the
little boy had several times set out alone on short

excursions to a tract of swamp
lands a quarter of a mile away,
in hope of seeing the Indians
without running the risk of
being seen by them, and it
-- was.. immediately upon a re-
markably hasty return from
one of these -expeditions that
he had greeted his uncle as just described.
"Oh, Uncle! it's s6! "' cried Benny, again;
"but you won't let -themtouch me or burn down
the house, will you ? "
"Whatever has come over the lad?" said
Uncle Martin. "Have the boys of the village
been frightening you? "
Oh, no Uncle; I encountered the red savages
in the forest," said-Benny, dropping into the lan-
guage of his favorite literature, as his courage
began to come back.
'"-What! did you meet some Indians ?"
"Well, no, I-didn't exactly see them, but I
heard them. They were coming after me with
dreadful war-whoops and drums, and--I think I
heard their noiseless footsteps."
Again Uncle Martin endeavored to re-assure
his nephew, and Benny gradually relinquished
the other details of his description, but to the
tom-tom, or drum, incidents he -kept firmly.
And you know, Uncle, how before a battle







GOODnNIGHT, pretty Sun, good-night;.
I 've watched your purple and golden light
While you are sinking away.
And some one has just been telling me
You 're making, over the shining sea,
Another beautiful day;
That, just at the time I atin going to sleep,
The children;there are jl;ing a peep
At your face,-beginning to-say,
Good-morning! "just when T Siy good-night!
Now-, beautiil 'Sun, iF thcy 'e rtld me right,
I wish you 'd say good-morring :r me
To all the little ones over the sea.



H, Uncle I believe
/ the Indians are go-
ing to make war!"
ilwas the wild exclama-
Vo tion of little Ben, as he
S burst into the study where
S Uncle Martin was quietly
"Indeed?"' said Uncle Martin, smiling at the
idea of a few squaws making war on a village only
a short distance from the city of Tdronto.
But Benny .was fresh from England, and his
mind was filled with exciting tales about Indians
and tomahawks, and his interest in such matters
had lately been intensified by learning that a
number of half-breeds and squaws were encamped
near by, for the purpose of selling bead and quill
work. The idea of seeing a real Indian camp
completely filled Benny's brain for the next few
days; and as his uncle could not take him, the
little boy had several times set out alone on short

excursions to a tract of swamp
lands a quarter of a mile away,
in hope of seeing the Indians
without running the risk of
being seen by them, and it
-- was.. immediately upon a re-
markably hasty return from
one of these -expeditions that
he had greeted his uncle as just described.
"Oh, Uncle! it's s6! "' cried Benny, again;
"but you won't let -themtouch me or burn down
the house, will you ? "
"Whatever has come over the lad?" said
Uncle Martin. "Have the boys of the village
been frightening you? "
Oh, no Uncle; I encountered the red savages
in the forest," said-Benny, dropping into the lan-
guage of his favorite literature, as his courage
began to come back.
'"-What! did you meet some Indians ?"
"Well, no, I-didn't exactly see them, but I
heard them. They were coming after me with
dreadful war-whoops and drums, and--I think I
heard their noiseless footsteps."
Again Uncle Martin endeavored to re-assure
his nephew, and Benny gradually relinquished
the other details of his description, but to the
tom-tom, or drum, incidents he -kept firmly.
And you know, Uncle, how before a battle





the painted warriors gather in a circle and, dance
for hours to the ceaseless .beating .of the tom-
tom." And he attempted to imitate the sound by
thumping on the table with his fist, at first slowly,


tion of the sound. He explained that the drum-
mer would be found on a log where these two
imaginary lines crossed.
When they had gone about fifty yards toward
this spot, Ben's young eyes caught sight of a large
bird running along a log just before them.
"There," cried his uncle, "there is your
Indian drummer." Then as the bird sprung into
the air and went whirring through the trees, he
added, And you see he is as much afraid of you
as you were of him. He won't drum here again
this morning; so we may as well return to the
house, where I will show you a stuffed drummer,-
more properly a partridge, or ruffed grouse."
As soon as they returned, Uncle Martin took
from a case in his library, a nicely mounted speci-
men of the handsome bird they had just seen.
There," said he; directing Ben's attention to
the tail, you will recognize the Indian fan with-
out its handle of birch bark or its embroidery of
porcupine quills."
"But," asked Benny, "where is its drum,
and what has become of its snowshoes ?"
His uncle placed the bird's foot in a better

then faster and faster, until he could not further light and said, "Here are the partridge's snow-
increase the speed; then he suddenly stopped alto- shoes; you see they are not quite so clumsy as
gether. ours. They do not prevent it from running
Capital! cried Uncle Martin, with a hearty through the brush or walking along 'the branches
laugh, "you have given an excellent imitation, of the trees; in fact, they rather assist it. The
By the way, yesterday you were eager to learn 'shoe' is formed by these long horny points
something about the bird, the tail-feathers of which along the edges of each toe. In the summer these
are used in making this handsome Indian fan, points do not exist, but in the fall they begin to
and last week. you were greatly interested
when I promised some day to show you a
bird that wore snowshoes. Well, your ter-
rible Indian drummer is also a beautiful
bird, the same, moreover, that wears the
snowshoes and the fan."
Great were Benny's wonder and aston-
ishment, and he was easily persuaded to
accompany his uncle to the swamp unarmed.
They had not been long among the fra-
grant cedars, before there fell on their ears
a .loud thump," followed after a few sec-
onds by another, after a shorter interval w i
by -a third, and so on, until the sound be-
came a continuous rattle, dying away like
Uncle Martin glanced at Ben.
"Yes, that's it," the boy whispered, "that's develop, appearing first as a row of pointed
the tom-tom again." scales. During the autumn they continue to
- "We '11 soon see the drummer," said Uncle grow steadily, until winter finds the partridge
Martin. "Now listen. A line drawn straight from ready for any amount of snow,-its feathers, too,
us toward the sound would pass through that tall are, then in perfection,-and it is able to .run
cedar." along the tops of the drifts and to walk, as well,
Uncle Martin then led the way 'some distance upon the sleet-covered branches of the trees, aided
to one side, and again similarly marked the direc- by the same snowshoes. But when the snows are




disappearing in early spring, the points begin to
loosen and drop off, and by the time the snow is
quite gone, the partridge runs barefoot through
the swamp until winter comes again."

Benny listened with intense interest, and when
his Uncle Martin had finished speaking, the boy
continued gazing dreamily at a corner of the room,
giving full flight to his lively fancy, which carried
him away in imagination to some wintry swamp
where from time to time he met with little troops
of partridges all marching in step together for a
snowshoe tramp. But presently Uncle Martin
called him back to his original interest in the bird
by beating a subdued tattoo on the table with his
fingers. The moment his uncle stopped, Benny
cried :
But where 's the drum ? "
"Ah, yes," said Uncle Martin; "the terrible tom-
tom Here it is,- this pair of rounded gray and
brown wings. They are all that the bird uses to
make the loud drumming that sent you running
home. When I first came to Canada, I found

there were various opinions as to the method of
making the sound. One man, who read a great
deal but rarely went into the woods, said that
the sound was produced by the bird's voice;
some of the hunters told me that
the bird struck its wings on the
log, and others declared that it
struck them together over its back.
"I did not give much heed to
the book-man's explanation, for
all the woodmen laughed at it.
I soon learned to discredit also
the idea that the bird thumped
the log with its wings, because,
whether it stood on a stump or
a stone, a rotten log or solid tim-
ber, the sound was always the
S'. same. Lastly, I did not believe
that the wings were struck to-
gether, because when a pigeon
or a rooster strikes its wings
together, the sound is always a
sharp crack. At length, after
watching the bird carefully, I
came: to the conclusion that it
drums by beating the air only.
"It is not an easy matter to
get sight of a partridge when he
is drumming, but I managed to
do it by crawling on my hands
and knees toward the bird, lying
still while he was.quiet, and only
S moving forward when he renewed
his noisy courtship,-for it is to
woo and win his mate that Sir
Ruffed Grouse indulges in these
V_ strange and noisy musical exer-
cises. In this
way I contriv-
ed to come
within twenty
feet without
Through the
alder thicket I
could just see
his shapely
form strutting
about like a
turkey cock;
then, foramo-
upright, with
lying close.
Suddenly his wings flashed, and at the same moment
I heard the loud thump. Then, for a few seconds, he





stood looking about as though nothing had hap-
pened; but presently came a second flash and
thump, and others rapidly followed at lessening
intervals, until at last the serenade rolled away
like the galloping of horses or the rumbling of
distant thunder. Thinking to get a better view, I

slowly and cautiously raised my head. But the
drummer's eye was on me, and instantly taking
alarm, he leaped, chuckling, from the log. In an-
other instant his beautiful fan-tail was steering him
safely through the branches and away into a quieter
part of the woods."



WHEN mists beside the river kneel,
Like still gray nuns at matins,
And catkins o'er the willows steal,
All dressed in silvery satins,
Before the soldier-reeds unbind
Their swords to tilt against the wind,

Before the grass begins to toss,
Its pretty fancies trilling,
Or buttercups find yellow floss
Enough to make their filling,
The cowslips sit in golden crowds
Beneath dim April's frowning clouds.

Alone within the fields they bide;
No lover that way lingers;
The alders by the brooklet's side
Reach down their long brown.fingers;
One lonely robin, on the wing,
Is calling plaintively for spring.
VOL. XIV.-28.

But still, as brave and glad are they
As any summer beauty;
They ask no rosy holiday;
They smile, .for that 's their duty.
And all the meadow's gladness lies
Within their brave and shining eyes.

They promise days in one bright wreath
Of bloom and sunbeams airy;
The sweetness of their fresh young breath
They give the showers to carry
To lonely homesteads, near and far,
Where hearts that long for spring-time are.

As if't were dew, the rain-drops wet
They take with cheery lightness.
None praise them; but, with fair pride yet,
They wear their homely brightness.
For truest courage has its birth
In an inward sense of worth.






ST was my first day
as a reporter for
one of the great
New York morning
Newspapers. I had
been sitting in. the
piore City Room since
Soon, waiting pa-
tiently for assign-
mt n nent to duty. I had
A read through a copy
of that: day's paper
half a'dozen.times at
least, and had made the acquaintance of another
new reporter, who had been in the service: for a
week. I had seen twenty-five or thirty' other
reporters come in, receive details from the city
editor in his sanctum in a corner of the room, and
depart to do their work.; and I was anxious for an
opportunity to make my first effort in journalism.
The other new reporter had pointed out the celeb-
rities of the staff,-a very tall young man who, he
said, wrote the humorous local reports; a middle-
aged man who could write a column in an hour; a
boyish young. fellow who was the only member of
the staffwith sufficient nerve to make balloon trips;
and a solemn-visaged youth who had received a
special medal from Congress for saving lives at the
risk of his own in a railroad collision, upon which
occasion he had telegraphed two columns about
the disaster to his paper from the spot, and
"beaten every other morning journal in the city.
The other new reporter tendered me a great deal
of advice, as new reporters are fond of doing when
they obtain a still newer subject.
"Whatever occurs," he said, "you must always
get your news to the paper in time for publication;
should you fail, it would inevitably insure your dis-
charge. No matter what happens,-if you have to
run all the way from Harlem, or swim from Staten
Island,- you are expected to get your news in on
time, at all hazards and under all circumstances.
It's no excuse if you are run over by a railroad
train, or are waylaid by a highwayman. You
should have looked out for such occurrences, and
made arrangements to send your copy by a messen-
ger, they will tell you. Why, if a ten-story building
should fall on you, the editor would be quite indig-
nant if you did not write him half a column of
'Experiences of a Survivor! "
I since learned, from several years' experience,

that the other reporter had exaggerated matters
a trifle; but his warning made a deep impression
upon me at the time, and I made up my mind that
no obstacle in my path should ever prove insur-
mountable when I was in possession of news that
my paper wanted.
Finally, the other new reporter was dispatched
to ascertain why an ambulance alarm had been
sent out from a building in Wall Street, and my
turn.came next. I heard my name called by the
city editor, and I entered his office in great trepi-
dation.. The.city editor held an afternoon paper
in hiis hand.. As I came in, he took up a pair
of big: scissors, deftly stabbed the paper in a vital
part, and with a practiced slash right and left he
cut. out a slip about two inches square, which
he handed to me. It was a dispatch from Prince-
ton, New Jersey, relating to a change in the faculty
of the college.
"Take the next train to Princeton," said the
city editor, "see Dr. McCosh, the president of
the college, ask him if this is true, and come
right back here. You will have just time to catch
the 4.30 train down there," he continued, rapidly
turningthe pages of a railroad guide, "and you may
be able to take the 7.30 back, if you are lucky
enough to find Dr. McCosh at once. If you don't
get the 7.30 train, there is one at 8.30, and the last
leaves at 10.30. If you miss that train, telegraph
your facts; and remember that your dispatch must
be in the office by one o'clock at the very latest, or
it will be too late for publication."
Never have I felt weighted down with so much
responsibility, before or since, as when I left that
office and rapidly took my way down to the ferry
at the foot of Cortlandt Street. All the way out to
Princeton, I was conjuring up hideous contingen-
cies that might arise to prevent my seeing Dr.
McCosh, or if I did see him, to interfere with my
obtaining the information I.desired; or if I accom-
plished that much of my task, to hinder me from
reaching the office in time with my news. When
I reached Princeton, however, I began to feel my
importance as the agent upon whom thousands of
readers were unconsciously dependent for a part
of the news of the next day; and it was with con-
siderable boldness that I rang the bell of the great
philosopher's residence on the edge of the college
Now came the first of a series of misfortunes that
befell'me that night., The servant who opened the




door informed me that Dr. McCosh was dining out.
It was his custom, she said, to return home some time
between nine and ten o'clock,- though he might
remain much later, and it was not by any means
certain that he would be back-before midnight.
It was evident that I could not return by either
the half-past seven or half-past eight o'clock train,
and that I might not obtain an interview in time
for the half-past ten train, the last of all. Already
I saw failure staring me in the face. The servant
did not know where her master was dining, or I
should have hunted him up. There was nothing
to do but to wait. I lounged about the University
Hotel corridors, in a fever of anxiety, waiting for
the hour of half-past nine to arrive, when I had
determined to make my next call at the professor's
residence. He had not reached home then, and I
made four trips to his door before he finally did
arrive at a quarter-past ten o'clock. I felt with
apprehension that I should barely have time to
speak to him before it would be necessary for me
to rush away, if I were to go back to New York
by the half-past ten train.
The venerable philosopher received me with
courtesy, and, after reading the slip that-the city
editor had cut from the afternoon paper, he in-
formed me that the dispatch was a misstatement,
adding a few words of comment. Barely thanking
him, I ran from the parlor to catch the train.
Horrors As I emerged from the shadow of the
tall University buildings, and glanced in the direc-
tion of the railroad station only a short distance
away, I saw the red light upon the rear end of the
train just moving out upon the track. I did not con-
fine myself to the paths, but, totally unheeding all
placarded warnings to "keep off the grass," I flew
over lawns and hedges, fell down an embankment,
and sped after the train. When I reached the
station, the red light was swiftly bobbing eastward
a quarter of a mile away. I was completely over-
come at this, and I remember having a distinct
regret that the solace of tears was denied my sex.
All my future seemed blighted. I felt that life was
no longer worth living! Suddenly I remembered
the city editor's injunction to telegraph, if I missed
the train, and I rushed into the station. A porter
was just turning out the light and locking the
doors. He told me that there was no telegraph
office in the station, but that there was one in the
Unierriy Hotel. I ran for that hostelry as if
it were a -ity of refuge and I a hunted felon. I
_vas th.:-r informed that the office closed at eight
o'clock, and that the operator had gone home.
The hotel clerk saw such blank despair writ-
ten in my countenance, that he asked me, sympa-
thetically :
Is it an important message you want to send? "

"Important!" I gasped, hoarsely. "Impor-
tant Did I understand you to ask if it was
'important?'" and, words utterly failing to express
how important it was, I sank speechless into a
"Because," continued the clerk, kindly, "you
might go over to the 'operator's boarding-house
and ask him to come over here and send it."
Without another word I bolted through the
door before I remembered that I did not know
where the operator lived. The clerk ran out after
me; and, as in my bewildered: condition I was
unable to comprehend his directions, he sent a
porter with me to show me the road. The opera-
tor lived half a mile away; and when I reached
his boarding-house, every one had been in bed for
two hours. I applied myself to the bell-knob with
so much energy, however, that there was a head
sticking out of every window in the front of the
house in very short order. The landlady informed
me, when I made my mission known, that the
telegraph operator had gone to a party in another
part of the village; and I was so staggered by this
new misfortune that I sat down on the doorstep
in a dazed condition.
"Is it an important message?" the landlady in-
quired, sympathetically.
"Important!" I groaned; "is it important?"
And the English language again proving defi-
cient, I stopped short.
I looked at my watch, and my hair actually rose
on end. It was fifteen minutes aftereleven o'clock,
and if my news were not in the office at one o'clock,
I would be left" on my first assignment to duty.
My companion, the hotel porter, had been regard-
ing me with pity, and he now suggested that we
go to the house where the party was held and ask
the operator to return with us to the hotel.
"We must run all the way I said. And run
we did.
We found a small house, brilliantly lighted, set
back among the trees, the strains of gay music
floating through the open windows. On the veran-
das I caught glimpses of the village gallants with
white-robed maidens by their sides, chatting sweetly
in the moonlight, and flying figures were momen-
tarily outlined upon the curtains. I stood not upon
ceremony, but rushed into the hall, where other
young people were sitting upon the stairs and a
group of pretty girls were looking in at the parlor
doors over one another's shoulders. As in a
dream, I observed, from the one hurried glance I
cast into the room, three musicians with violin,
bass-viol, and flute, perched upon a platform in a
corner of the room, two sets of dancers performing
a quadrille in the front and back parlors, while a
row of old ladies admired them from a sofa.



-Panting, perspiring, and breatile:, I'addressed
the group of pretty girls at the door.
"Where- is -.the-tel -e-graph -op-
e-ra-tor?" I gasped.
They started back in alarm, but I repeated my
question in a tone of such agonized entreaty that
they all pointed him out at once. The operator
was a nice-looking young fellow, and he was danc-
ing with a merry and rosy-cheeked girl at the
other end of the back parlor, just in front of the
sofa-load of old ladies. These incidents:I recalled
afterward. 'I did not "think of the-m then. nor of
anything else, save the ghastly p:."ibilitly :of fail-
ing to get my message to my office in time for
publication." .
Just as 'the leader of the orchestra called, ".Sides
forward!" I made a'rush across the room .and seized
the telegraph ,-pert ir by.the coat-lapel.
Hotel! message! .was all I could say at first,
but.I finally managed to explain coherently that
he must come at once to his office and send a tel-
egraph dispatch.
'' That 's no go," said the operator. ''"The'
hotel instrument only connects with the passenger
station at the junction; and that office as3 closed
at eitht o'clock, when mine was. There's no tel-
egraph conrncrtioo from the village at all".'
I almost dropped into the lap of one of the old
ladies on the sofa, and exclaimed piteously::
What shall i do?' :' :
The rosy-cheeked girl 'looked at me with sym-
pathy, and the operator asked:
Is it an important message?" -
Important !" I cried. )' Do'you supposeI 'm
running about the villagee like this for fun ?-"
.'-You might send your me-sage from the freight
.ffic6 at the junction, you know," he said. "You
can get.'a h6rse at the livery stable and go over
there without much trouble; and that office is kept
open all night."
Without waiting to express my thanks, I' rushed
for the door, the dancers. hurriedly making wayr
for me under the impression, I suppose, that life
and death hung upon my speed. I seized the
porter, who was waiting in the hall under a'similar
Livery stable," I exclaimed. Quick "
SWe ran all the way to that establishment, through
the village, and burst into the office headlong. A
sleepy hostler was in charge, and to him I stated
my errand.
"It's no use," he said, languidly; "all the
drivers have gone home, and all our horses have
been out to-day."
"I can't help that," I cried in a irenzyu "I
must have a horse to get me to the junction to
send a telegraph message."

S" Is it important ?" the hostler asked.
I only glared at him savagely.
"Because," he continued, "if you know how
to ride, I've got a saddle-horse here, but he's
hardly been out of the stable for a week, and he
feels pretty well. If you can ride 'im, I '1 let you
take him over there."
Fortunately, I was a good rider; but had I been
the veriest tyro in horsemanship, I should not
have hesitated, under the circumstances, to mount
the horse Daredevil, the vicious steed of the rois-
terer Brom Bones, of whom Irving wrote in "The
Legend of Sleepy Hollow."
"Saddle that horse as quick as you can," I said.
"Don't lose a minute."
While the hostler was gone into the stable,
I looked at my watch, which marked fifteen min-
utis to midnight, leaving me an hour and a quarter
to get to the telegraph office and write and;send -my
message, and I began to feel light-hearted again,
for it was only three miles to the junction. A new
terror suddenly possessed me. What if I should
Lose my way!, And, horrors! what if the tele-
graph operator should be sick, or the office on fire,
or the wires cut!
Just then the stableman led in the horse.
As sodn as the beast caught sight of the half-
opened door, he bolted for it, dragging the hostler
with him; and it -was only with the assistance of
myself and the porter that the animal could be
restrained until the door was closed. He was a
big, black horse, with a white blaze down his face,
and a wicked eye; but I noticed with satisfaction
that he was powerful and ambitious.
S"You'd better mount him inside here, sir,"
said th'- hostler; I don't believe I could hold him
He could n't hold the animal inside, either; but,
after.the beast had dragged the man around the
carriage-house two or three times, the porter came
to the hostler's assistance, and.'the two managed
to -keep the horse steady long enough for me to
spring upon his back. I settled myself firmly into
the saddle; gotmiy feet balanced in the stirrups,
and took a strong hold of the reins. Then the
porter opened the door while the hostler struggled
alone at the bit, and the black horse and myself
shot out into the street as if we had been thrown
from a catapult. The horse took me four blocks
up through the village in .exactly the opposite
direction from the junction before I could stop
him; and when I finally turned his head and he
bolted in the right direction, I suddenly remem-
bered that I did not know the proper road to take..
The beast carried me down to the railroad station,
however, and as luck-or, to use a German idiom,
unluck, as I afterward thought-would have it, I




found a man there; who, for and in consideration Well, you 're on the wrong road. You must
of half a dollar, walked over with me and showed go back to Princeton, an' take the first road to the
me what direction to take. Out upon this road left of this one, down by the railroad station."
I went flying. I well-nigh fainted in the saddle.
The black horse was a good one. He vented all How far over is the junction road from this
his enthusiasm on the first half mile, and then settled one ? I asked feebly.
down into a long, steady sweep that carried us over Half a mile across the fields," he replied, and
the level road at a speed with which my spirits rose shut down the window.
at every stride. But after I had gone over a distance With a sinking. heart, I took out my watch,
that I estimated at fully two
miles, I began to feel an ap- I llllll11
prehension that I was going
wrong. Idid nothearanyof
the sounds of passing trains,
nor could I catch sight of
any of the colored lights
that always mark railroad
switches in the vicinity of
a junction, and I knew that
if I were on the right road st
I should already have dis-
covered some of these indi-
cations. I determined to
inquire at the next house.
The houses were few and
far between, and every one
was as dark without as if it I
had never been inhabited.
But I rode boldly in at the
next farmyard and pounded
on the front door of the
house with the handle of my A
riding-whip.. That waked
up a dog with a basso-pro-
fando voice, which in turn
waked up its master. That
individual put his head out
of a second-story window TI
and demanded in very
surly tones to know what I
wanted. I asked him if I "
was on the right road to
Princeton junction.
"What d' ye want to go
to Princeton junction for ?"
he inquired.
I had a strong inclination
to tell him that that was
none of his business, but,
as he had the advantage of
me, I responded:
graph message."
Before I had concluded the sentence, the thought lighted a match with great difficulty, owing to the
flashed across my mind, Now he 'I1 ask me if it's black horse's lack of sympathy with the undertak-
important, and if he does, I 'll break one of his win- ing, and found that it was eleven minutes after
dows." But he did n't; he only said: twelve o'clock. It seemed out of the question to




pursue the chase any farther, and I was on the
point of giving up, when a new idea came to me.
It was but half a mile 'cross country to the junc-
tion road, and but a mile after that to the tele-
graph office. The moon had come up and the
night was clear, and my horse seemed possessed
of so good mettle that I decided to risk his merits
as a steeple-chaser, and to put him across the fields
and over the intervening fences.
I slid down carefully from the horse's. back and
led him-out towardd the barn,., walking him on the.
grass so as not to attract the attention of the
farmer, rho niligaht haie had a pre-judic "i' gains-t m,I
gatioping o,.er his c:!opi. TheL b-linrard had a big
rei gate that I opened with some ditficoulty. and
closed behind ine after I hrid led the black horse
through;. A long lane now svtrretrc:hd out before
me into a cob-pastuire \rbth aierce OIt the other
side. I mounted, galloped out of the lane and:
acros- tie pasture. aid put -m hl'rse at the fence
vithi the urmot confidenr.:e. H.e mnnde a rush for
it and thei- displayed his lI:k of -ducation by turn-
ing, as he .reached the. rails,.:and running- along-7
side. Having started&'eross c:uoinry. however,
there w\as nothing to do but to keep on. .-\rcord-
Ingly, i dismounted and took the fence d.ci:n. It
was a rail Ience, Fe Ieet high. arid 1' felt '-orry
when 1. thought of Itho that fai me r would prob-
ably feel when he discovered it the next day.--
because I did n't.have time to .toip and put it up
again. In all probability I -hould hae felt ,ourse
if the farmer had caught iri, in the ac:r: but I ami
willing to let by-gones be b-y-gnr,,i and I he-re-
with tender him m most humble apologies. for tak-
ing liberties srilh his property.
i. led the black horse through the breach, andc
then another misfortune.1befell me. While I was
taking downwthe fence Ilheld the beast: b0 putting
my-arm through the bridle-rein that I had taken
off his neck. When I. attempted t: put the rei-ns
back over his head previous: to mounting- agaih,
the black horse seized this most. inopportune occa-
sion to have some fun with me. He backed away
to the end of the reins and refused to let me
approach him, backing just far enough to keep
me their length away; and so for five precious
minutes we moved about in a circle over that

moonlit field. I was well-nigh frantic, but I did
not dare give vent to my rage for fear of inspiring
the black demon to further demonstrations, and I
was forced to the hypocrisy of murmuring in gen-
tle tones, "Good horse, nice fellow," and similar
expressions of esteem and affection. But even
then- outraged, angry, impatient and anxious as
I was- I could not help smiling when I thought
of how Dickens described Nathaniel Winkle's
similar experience with the tall horse upon the
occasion of that memorable journey of the Pick-
wick Club:to Dingley Dell.
SFinally,.I backed the horse into a corner of the
1fencc. succeeded i nmounting him again, and gal-
loped over a meadow to another fence. It was a
board fence,. and I eaiil', kicked the boards off after
dism:ourting, and cantered on. To. make a long
-tur;, short, I took down four rail fences and kicked
down two board' fences before I finally reached
the- other road;; and three times did that stony-
hearted animal waste my valuable time by un-
seemly playfulnessi vhen I attempted to mount
him after these explouits.
Once on the right road. I put the black horse to
his speed, and rhunde ed up to, the junction like a
tornado in an enveloping cloud of dust. It was
iust fourteen minutes to one o'clock when Iran
into e the telegraph office ; and I rapidly wrote a few
lines, the operator sending then over the wire
as I rote. He concluded just as the pointers of
the dial marked one o'clock.
Thel I mounted the black horse and rode arace
home with nm sh ;ad:owi. But I was'filled with dis-
mal torebodirig. that my dispatch had not reached
the paper in time : and the ride had no chaimn- for
me. I ,eit to bed at the. htel after ordering that
a paper b. sent to iny room.the first thing in the
morning, and dreamed steadily all night that my
dispatch had'been. received too late.
Therefore, when the paper was hurled over the
transom. of the door the next morning, it was
with a:sense of unutterable relief that I read my
"interview with Dr. McCosh (it made about five
lines of nonpareil on the first page), before getting
out of bed. But the city editor of that paper will
never know how near he came to losing that piece
of news until he reads this story.







MONKEYS are very much like people in their
ways. Whether the fact pleases us or not, we are
obliged to admit it.
The baby monkey- droll little bundle of fur
that it is--acts wonderfully like the darlings of
our nurseries. It puts its fingers in its mouth, and
it creeps on the ground; it plays with toys, and it
laughs when tickled; it weeps when grieved, and it
screams when angry; it moans when ill, cooes
when caressed, and squalls when left alone,-
exactly as do human little folk.
When it is a little older, it plays and quarrels,
drums on hollow logs to make a noise, jumps,
swings, and performs feats of strength so like

those in which our own youngsters delight as to
be amazing to one who sees them.
Yet they are "full of mischief," we always say;
and people chain them up or shut them in cages,
where they fret themselves nearly wild. It is piti-
ful to see the restless .creatures with nothing to
help pass away the tedious hours; and it is not
necessary that it should be so.
Should pet monkeys, then, be allowed to smash
the vases, scrub the wax-dolls, choke the baby,
and perform the thousand other pranks their four
busy hands fairly ache to do ?
No, indeed! There's a better way. They can
be cured of mischief just as two-handed little



. 423


people are-by giving them something to do; by
teaching them to work.
This is not so hard a task as one might think.
Monkeys that live with people are always imitat-
ing what they see done, and work is as easy to
learn as mischief-if one only thinks so. Why,
then, should they not be taught to work? Long
ago, in Egypt, it was discovered that four hands can
be more useful than two, when properly trained.
In those far-off days our four-handed relative was
employed in certain services about the gardens.
He it was, instead of a clumsy man-servant, who
was sent into the trees to gather figs and other
fruits. He handed them down to his master below,
as we learn from the old sculptures; though, to be
sure, the picture-story does not fail to add that he
did not entirely forget himself, and that many a
tempting morsel found its way into his mouth.
Would a boy have done any better?
This useful Egyptian servant belonged to the
baboons, or dog-headed monkeys; and although
when young the baboons are good-tempered
enough and easily taught, their experience of life
makes them cross, so that an old baboon is one of
the ugliest of animals.
Monkeys in our own days do such wonders
that perhaps we have no reason to doubt the story,
told by an old writer, of one which used to be sent
regularly to buy wine. This animal was a coaita,
one of the spider monkeys, which are able to
walk upright without much trouble. When sent
on his errand, he had the jug in one hand and the
money in the other, and he was wise enough to
keep the money till the wine was ready, when he
would pay for it and carry it home.
Nothing is harder work than playing for the
amusement of other people; and more than two
hundred years ago monkeys were taken to Eng-
land to perform there in shows. They were
dressed in fine clothes, in the fashion of the day,
and they behaved with perfect propriety. They
saluted the guests and one another by taking off
their hats and bowing politely; they danced to-
gether the stately minuet and other fashionable
dances, and they imitated many other social cere-
They also did other things more difficult, if not
quite so dignified. They performed on the tight-
rope, and turned somersaults with lighted candles
or baskets of eggs in their hands, without putting
out a light or spilling an egg. An old English
writer, Evelyn, who kept a diary, tells about a
visit he paid to these learned animals.
In our day, the monkey has not escaped from
work,-in fact, he is learning to do more every day;
and the time may perhaps come when he will be
a common worker. In one part of Africa he is

taught many useful tasks about a house,- such as
holding the torches, which are used there to light
up the room for a feast. Several monkeys are
placed on a bench, each with his light to hold.
There they must sit, and see others eat and drink
and have merry times, while they dare not stir
hand or foot lest they put out the lights. If they
are very good, when the feast is over they have a
supper themselves. But sometimes one gets tired
and impatient, and flings his torch among the
guests, and that monkey gets something else
instead of his supper.
One of the most teachable of the race is the chim-
panzee. In their native land young chimpanzees
are caught when mere babies, and are taught to
be very useful. They are able to carry pitchers
of water on their heads as the people do, and to
keep a fire going, or to watch the cooking. When
they live among white people, they learn to sweep
and dust, to clean boots and brush clothes.
Should they go to sea, they still contrive to be
useful at furling sails and hauling ropes with the
sailors; and if their home is with carpenters, they
become equally expert with tools, even using ham-
mer and nails properly.
Monkeys are quick to learn politeness and re-
fined manners, for nothing seems to please them
so much as to copy the ways of those about them.
It is easy to teach them to eat with knife and
fork, to drink from a cup or glass, and to use a
napkin; they like it, too, and soon relish our
food, and show likes and dislikes as strong as the
most notional "spoiled child" in America.
They take kindly to other ways of ours,- they
enjoy sleeping in beds, and soon learn to make
them up." They like to be warmly dressed, and
can readily learn to dress themselves; and they
have their own tastes in colors.
In the Island of Sumatra the common monkey
is the bruh, or pig-tailed monkey, and he becomes
a docile and intelligent servant. What he has to
do is to gather cocoanuts. Of course, nothing is
easier for a four-handed fellow than to climb the
tall trees and throw down nuts; but the bruh does
better than that: he selects the nuts, gathering
none but the ripe ones; and, what is more, he picks
only as many as his master wishes.
So useful is this animal, that gathering nuts has
become, one may say, his trade, in that part of the
world. A man having captured and trained a gang
of them, marches them around the country to get
in the harvest, hiring them out on different plan-
tations. Then, when the nuts are all picked, or
the laborers too numerous, gangs of them are
taken to the English colonies at Cape Town, and
hired out like any workmen, or coolies, as they
are called.


424 .



A Siamese.ape has reached a step higher, it is
said. The story is told by an Austrian who lived
in Siam that this ape is able to tell by the taste
whether coin is good or bad, and merchants em-
ploy him for the purpose of detecting counterfeits.
Within a few months a gentleman of India has
tried his hand at training monkeys, and he reports


to the Asiatic Society of Bengal his success in
teaching them to pull punkahs. A punkah -
perhaps you know- is an immense fan, hung from
the ceiling, and moved back and forth by means
of a rope outside the room. It keeps a whole room
cool, and in that climate is necessary to enable a
white man to eat or sleep with any comfort. A
monkey who can pull one, then, is as useful as a
man, and is a true worker.
VOL. XIV.-29.

Another valuable monkey is the chacma of
Africa. When young, this baboon is very teach-
able, and is often kept by the Kaffirs as a domes-
tic animal. He takes the place of a dog, growling
when a stranger comes near; and if it becomes
necessary to defend his master's property, he is
much stronger than any dog.


The chacma easily learns to blow the bellows
of a smith, and to drive horses or oxen; but his
greatest use in that country is to find water.
In the hpt season, when the earth is parched,
and springs and streams are dry, the owner of a
tame chacma takes him out to hunt for the water
they all must have.
The intelligent monkey seems to know what is
wanted, or perhaps he knows by his own feelings





what to look for, and he goes carefully over the
ground,, looking earnestly at every tuft of grass,
and eagerly sniffing the breeze on every side.
Whether he scents it or not is not known, but
if there is water in the neighborhood, he is sure
to find it. It may be a deep spring, in which case
he sets to work digging down to it; and it may
be a certain very juicy root, which often serves in-
stead of water. He gets that out also; and let
us hope he has his full share of it, to pay for
his work.
Like the rest of the monkey family, the chacma
gets very ugly as he grows older. An English
gentleman who spent some time among the Kaf-
firs tells of an old chacma which liked to play
jokes, rushing at the women as they went by,

seizing them by the ankles, and acting as fiercely
as if he were about to eat them up.
The thing he liked best, however, was a little
animal-a young dog, for instance- to pet and
"play baby with. He would hug it and dandle
it, as a girl does a doll, till the puppy made too
much resistance, and then he would seize one leg
or the tail, swing his pet around once or twice,
and fling it far away.
The latest report of a monkey that works comes
from Florida. It is a chimpanzee, trained to wait
at table; and its owner says it does the work of
four negro waiters. It wears a livery, and carries
a napkin in the proper way. Its only weakness is
so irresistible a fondness for sweets that it is
obliged to take toll as it serves them.






THE Germans are naturally a warm-hearted and
hospitable people. They deem it a mark of polite-
ness to be attentive to the strangers or visitors who
come among them; and in their friendly desire to
make one feel at home, they not infrequently be-
come as inquisitive in their attentions and inquiries
as the traditional "Yankee." Some forty years
ago, two young men, an Englishman and an
American, were fellow-students at Heidelberg. At
that time Bavaria was a separate kingdom and not
a part of the German Empire, as at present. Its
King was Ludwig I. He was the grandfather
of the eccentric King Ludwig who only a few
months ago so sadly ended his own life.
Ludwig I. was a pleasant, unassuming monarch,
who cared more for literature and art than for rul-
ing a kingdom.
The two student friends determined, during one
of their vacations, to spend a week at Munich, the
capital of Bavaria, a hundred and fifty miles or
more to the southeast of Heidelberg.
The youngmen had never before visited the beau-
tiful Bavarian capital, and they passed their week
very pleasantly in sight-seeing. One morning about
ten o'clock they started for a government build-
ing, but soon lost their way, and so they requested
the first man they met to direct them to the right
street. He did so in a few words, and then said:
You seem to be strangers to the city, gentle-
men." The young Englishman replied that they
And where are you from?" continued the Ba-
"I am from London," replied the Englishman.
"And your friend ?" turning to the American.
"Philadelphia," answered the young Pennsyl-
"Ah, indeed!" said their new acquaintance;
" you have come a long distance." He then ques-
tioned the young American closely about his native
country, and seemed to have a better acquaintance
with it than most foreigners have. He inquired
about the student's family, what he was doing in
Europe, where and what he was studying. After
he had finished with the American, he put the Eng-
lishman through a similar examination. When he
was quite through, the young men were so much
amused at the conversation, that the Englishman
said laughingly to him:
Now, we have told you all about ourselves, pray
tell us who are you? "

"King Ludwig I. of Bavaria," said the inquisi-
tive acquaintance, quietly.
This unexpected reply was at once taken as a
joke by both the young men, who roared with
laughter; and the Englishman even gave the
stranger a hearty slap between the shoulders,
"Yes, sir. You are King Ludwig,-just about
as much as I am! "
"Gentlemen!" said he with dignity, and he
proudly drew himself up to his full height," I am
the King of Bavaria "
There was no mistaking the tone of voice now.
The plain, unassuming citizen had indeed suddenly
become the King. In an instant, the young men
stood with uncovered heads before him, and bowed
low. The King took a memorandum-book from
his side pocket, wrote a few lines, tore out the page,
and handed it to the Englishman.
"I have already directed you to the building,"
said he. "Present this at the door, and you will
receive every courtesy. I hope you may have a
pleasant sojourn in Munich. I wish you good-
morning, gentlemen."
With that he lifted his hat and left them. The
students stood looking after him as if petrified;
,for they had not stirred since removing their hats,
and both were too much astonished to think of
asking pardon for their rudeness until it was too
late. They found the building, presented the slip
of paper, and were treated with marked deference
wherever they went.
Now comes the strangest part of the story. Ten
years later, the Englishman was again in Munich,
and dined one day with a celebrated Bavarian
general. He related this incident of his first visit
to the city. As he ended, the general said:
"What you have described occurred ten years
ago? -and on such and such a day? Well, I
dined with the King at the palace on that pre-
cise date. There were probably twenty people
present, and he told us his morning adventure,-
the same story that you' have just related,-and
laughed quite heartily at it, too I remember th'e
incident well."
Proof from so good a quarter left no doubt as to
the identity of the inquisitive King; and the Eng-
lishman, who is now an old man, still takes pleas-
ure in recalling the incident of his student life,
and of the day when he so unceremoniously slapped
the back of King Ludwig of Bavaria.






THE next few days passed without.bringing any
serious mishaps or startling adventures to the chil-
dren. On the first and second days they were so
fortunate as to come upon one small stream in
process happily, not completed of drying up,
and two pools, all that remained of similar
streams. In the heat of the day they lay by and
further refreshed themselves by taking a nap.
They saw deer and turkeys in the distance, and
more than once, quite near, a wolf, which showed
its teeth savagely when Amigo ran-after, it. Juan
and Nita were in terror lest he should be killed,
and were not too sure that they might not share
the same fate; but the coyote always fell back
on its reinforcements without risking a pitched
battle. When the children came up, the. wolves
would slink off, leaving Amigo a kind of -cheap
victor, admired as much for his prudence as'for
his courage. On the third day they were blessed
with cloudy skies, and seemed, moreover, to:have
got into a little belt of country where the drought
had not been so severe. It was delightful to see
how much greener the foliage and grass looked,
and the wild flowers fairly carpeted the prairie and
made of it a vast garden. Nita, who loved flowers,
was enraptured by their variety and beauty, and
was always begging Juan to stop and look at this
,or that one, quite without success. They walked
for miles and miles though what seemed a sea
of lupines; the long, wave-like undulations of the
plains creating the most exquisite effects of light
and shade. At sunset they came upon a lovely
little lake guarded by three tall cotton-woods that
seemed to be etched against' the sky. Here they
camped, arid supped, and slept. Nita, her head
pillowed'on Amigo, saw the stars shining tenderly
in the placid water and idly tried to count them,
but was in dreamland long before she'had num-
bered so many as fifty of the "patines of bright
gold" in the floor of heaven.
On the fourth day they had a sun that seemed
the fiercer for its rtenp.:.rar eclipse, but: by tak-
ing a slightly roundabout course, Juan struck
into a fine stretch of forest, in the cool shade of
which they walked for miles-indeed, un tiil high
noon. Then' they leaned against two trees and
fanned themselves v.ith le i. es, and when they
were entirely rested, they dinrd,:but;did not make
a long halt. Looking out over the broad expanse

of prairie that stretched before them, Juan saw
that it offered no shelter of any kind for a great
distance; he knew that the canteen was not more
than half full, and he determined to travel as far as
possible that evening. Nita was hurried off, there-
fore, as soon as it was possible to start, and she was
not allowed to stop again until it was quite dark.
Then he gave her an hour in which to rest and get
her supper, and, to her surprise and dismay, insisted
on traveling three hours longer by starlight before
turning in for the night. The stars still shone when
he awoke her for another day's tramp. Telling
her to eat sparingly, for a full meal would require
full rations of water, he announced that he meant
to resume his march at once.
"Why, it is n't light yet! and I am so sleepy
and so tired, dear Juan! Do go to sleep again,"
remonstrated Nita, not understanding what was the
need for all this haste.
. But Juan, fortunately, .was firm, and by his
decision doubtless saved their lives. Don't eat
any honey," he also said to Nita; but this com-
mand she thought absurd and tyrannical, and
helped herself to a good big piece when his back
was turned. The very.last drop of water was given
to Amigo before they started, the children-having
had:their share previously.
* They had made about ten miles when up came
their enemy, the sun, strong and fierce and bright,
and ready for his day's journey, while they were
already tired and thirsty. After a brief rest they
went on again, but their steps and spirits flagged
sadly in the next four hours, the first getting
slower and the last dropping lower with every
moment spent under the almost vertical- rays of
that relentless sun. At last they sunk down
together in the open plain, and looked around
them wearily. -For about an hour they sat there
in silence and patient suffering; and then, very
gradually, a merciful veil of thin clouds was
drawn over the brazen heavens, and mitigated
their wretchedness. It seemed possible again to
live and breathe, although the air was still so
sultry that they felt suffocated. Juan's mind was
oppressed by anxious fears for the morrow. Look
as he would, he could see no evidence of forest or
stream, and the day's experience had shown him
.what he had to expect with no shelter, no water,
and that sun shining, perhaps, full upon him from
Sdawn until dark. The more he thought of it, the
more unhappy he grew; and the result showed




how well founded were his apprehensions. His
solicitude for Nita added fifty-fold to his anxieties,
especially when he learned that her greater thirst
was caused by her having eaten of the forbidden
honey, and he was quite harsh to her when she
proposed to camp where they were. As soon as it
grew cooler, they entered upon a long and very fa-
tiguing march, for darkness and night were now
precious. It was imperatively necessary that they
should traverse as much as possible of that appar-
ently boundless prairie. Nita was only allowed an
interval of two hours' sleep, after which they took
a very early breakfast in the dark, to strengthen
them for their journey, and bravely set off again.
In spite of these energetic measures and wise pre-
cautions, noon found the travelers still in the plain,
S the atmos-
phere was elec-
S~trical, and it had
the peculiar un-
S bearable sultriness
that precedes a thun-
der-storm. The earth
seemed literally to steam,
and sent up a kind of mist,
through which everything
looked ghostly and unnatu-
ral. If the children were
still moving, it was because
to stop for any length of
time seemed to them to
be courting

which seemed like a lava-
bed, still exposed to the
terrific power of a sun such
as we of more temperate
climes can have no conception of, phys-
ically exhausted, suffering agonies of
thirst, yet still moving on slowly. How
their hearts had sunk as they watched
that sun rise! With what dread had
-they seen it mount higher and higher,
and how fully had all their expectations
of evil been realized! The air they
breathed seemed to scorch them, and
was as hot and dry as though it had
come from a furnace. The condition of HE WAS ROUSED BY A PEAL OF THUNDER. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


About four o'clock, during one of their short
halts, Juan was looking drearily before him and
thinking the most despairing thoughts, when all at
once a moving object arrested his attention. It
was so distant .that it was a mere speck, but with
the quickness and accuracy of vision that was
partly natural to him, partly acquired, he soon
made out that it was an antelope running across
the plain. He knew it by its smooth, sheep-like
gait; and he continued to regard it with the in-
terest that attaches to every living thing in the
wilds. He pointed it out to Nita, and told her
what he thought of it. His voice sounded hollow
and strange, and he spoke with great difficulty,
his throat being swollen and parched. Nita's eyes
followed the direction indicated by his outstretched
finger, and while they were still looking, it sud-
denly loomed up in the air until it appeared as
large as a camel, and then disappeared. Nita
gave a hoarse scream, threw her arms around
Juan's neck, hid her face on his shoulder, and
o trembled in every limb. Juan, who would have
faced any danger that he understood, was almost
as much frightened. Yet they had nothing to fear,
at least in that quarter, for this was the fantastic
effect of mirage. Not knowing this, Juan was sur-
prised and delighted, about half an hour later, to
see a beautiful crystal lake on his right. How it
sparkled in the sun, and with what passionate
eagerness he seized Nita's hand, and drew her on
toward it! They could see it so plainly, set like a
great jewel in the plain, the very ripples in it,
and the rushes and sedges that grew along its mar-
gin reflected in it as in a mirror, the trees that grew
beside it, the white cranes standing in it! -In a
frenzy of hope they first hurried and then hobbled
on, and on, until at last they reached it.
But, alas It was all a delusion, or, rather, illu-
sion And if it was one to tempt and tantalize a
traveler under ordinary circumstances, what was it
to two perishing children, who had not had a drop
of water for thirty-six hours? When Juan came
to it and found only a ravine and a few whitened
bones, his disappointment was so intense that he
threw himself down on the earth with a loud bitter
cry, and could only groan when Nita came up to
him. One thing she understood-without explana-
tion,-there was no water. Without a moan she
dropped down by him. The same thought was
in the minds of both: this was the end. There
they lay for a long while, and .despair brought
with it calmness. "Our poor mother! "said Nita
in a whisper, and then, seeing that tears were run-
ning down Juan's cheeks, she took his hand, say-
ing, "Poor Juan! closed her eyes, and never
expected to open them again ...
But the children were not destined to perish

then nor there. Before they set out for the ra-
vine, there was. in a distant part of the heavens a
small cloud, that grew -and extended in a way that
must have attracted their notice had they not been
absorbed in their quest of the lovely lake; and so,
when succor seemed impossible and hope had died
out in their hearts, help was at hand, and came from
a most unexpected source.
Juan finally opened his eyes and looked at
Nita. The sight of her lying there so white, hag-
gard, altered, her breath coming in little labored
gasps from between her parted lips, filled him
with a new horror, and the remembrance of the
patience with which she had borne all the agony
and torment of the last two days wrung his heart
with anguish. He could do nothing to help her,
and with a deep groan he turned away from her
and covered his face with his hands. He was
roused by a peal of thunder that penetrated even
to his veiled consciousness. He sat up, dizzy and
confused. A flash of lightning lit up all the plain.
Now he saw with kindling rapture that all the
heavens were black above him, and he knew that
they were saved His mind cleared, he could act
and think once more. He picked Nita up, and
staggered with her into the ravine. Looking down
it; he saw a place where the bank had probably
been undermined at high water and formed a kind
of overhanging pentroof. Here he put his pack
and thebows, and returned to Nita. For a few
minutes they sat there with their faces turned up
to the sky, thirsting, with longing -hit can not
be conceived unless it has been felt, for what the
clouds withheld; then a sudden blast of wind swept
through the ravine, whirling before it pebbles and
sticks from the bed of the dead stream, cacti and
bushes from its brink, and then, all at once, down
came the blessed, blessed rain.!
It fell in torrents with positive fury. It lashed
the earth and rocks in exulting rage. Its violence
was terrible; all the thunders of heaven seemed
poured out in the air; all its lightning stabbed
the darkness and threatened the earth. It was
magnificent, awful. But the children did not heed
it, or dread it, or fly from it. They received it
kneeling with reverence and deep gratitude, as a
godsend, which it was. Their burning bodies
were drenched by it, their burning lips and throats
sucked it up greedily as it fell, and they felt that
they had never known what water was before.
Their scorched lungs drew in its sweet moisture,
full of all healing; their very hearts and souls
rejoiced and were glad.
The children thought that Amigo must dis-
trust the water supply of the region, and wish to
provide for possible emergencies in the future, for
he was always breaking away from them and run-





ning down below to lap up a few.mouthfuls and
gaze reflectively at the swift little stream that was
now rushing over the pebbled bed of the ravine.
The water that the earth could not absorb had
poured into this natural drain in such quantities
that it was rapidly growing into a torrent.
Juan spread his blanket on the ground, and he
and Nita seated themselves on it. It made a nice
carpet for them during supper, and a waterproof
bed when sleeping-time came- a bed that Amigo
graciously shared with them for fully ten hours.
And what a lovely world it was on which they
opened their eyes the next morning As fresh as
though it had just been created, and everything in
it seemed singing for joy. How changed the as-
pect of nature The very heavens seemed puri-
fied; the loveliest tints of unsuspected green had
been brought to light all about them; every blade
of grass, every leaf, had righted itself and held a
dew-drop to its heart. The birds were pouring
themselves out in an ecstasy of glad melody;
earth, air, and skywere alike cool, calm, heavenly.
Its delicious tranquillity and beauty sunk deep into
the hearts of the children after the stormy emo-
tions of the preceding day. They had suffered
too keenly to be able actually to rejoice, but it
was happiness enough to be out of pain and dan-
ger, and they were full of quiet content. It almost
seemed that they had only dreamed of that arid
waste and cruel sun.
Nita looked so pale and thoroughly done up "
that Juanjyas uncertain whether to go on or to call
a halt; but the noisy, impetuous stream that they
had heard rushing off into darkness as they were
falling asleep the night before, had already dwin-
dled to an ordinary brook, soon, Juan knew, to
disappear again. And, although the deep pools
cut in'the bed.of the ravine by the gravel dnd
sand washed down at flood-tide would give them
water for several days, Juan had a nervous dread
of trusting to these alone. He was afraid to stop
where there was no lasting supply of water, and
he was reminded at breakfast that there was not
much food left. So he determined to make a
short march, and, if possible, get shade for Nita
before noon. As they walked away, he noticed
that whereas on the previous day he had not seen
a single rabbit or squirrel, they seemed now to
have sprung out of the earth in mysterious plenty,
and were scampering about in high glee.
The children had gone only about three miles
when they came to a single fine oak crowning a
knoll; and while Nita sat below under the pleas-
ant, wide-spreading branches, Juan climbed up
in it and reconnoitered the country. He was de-
lighted to see a wood growing in the ribbon-fash-
ion that told of a stream, and he calculated that it

was not more than seven miles distant. Other
trees he saw, too, like the friendly one in which
he was making these observations; so that Nita
would be able to make the journey by easy stages,
and to rest often.
Pleased with these discoveries, the two chatted
cheerfully and walked arm and arm together for
about an hour, when Juan suddenly stopped and
said, Ki! in an astonished tone. He slipped
his arm out of Nita's and walked off to the right,
telling her to stay where she was. This command
she ventured to disobey, and, joining him in a
moment, found him staring fixedly at a long shin-
ing line drawn across the wet prairie.
"What is it? What made it?" she asked
eagerly, but got no response.
Juan was following it. She followed him; and
presently both came upon footprints and the
marks of horses' hoofs.
." The Comanches!" exclaimed Nita, and
turned livid with fright. Still no reply from Juan,
who had knelt down on the ground and was all
Made by a tent-pole," he said, at last, point-
ing to the serpentine trail that had -at first at-
tracted his attention. "Made since the rain;
Indians; but not Comanches I think. A hunt-
ing-party. Look at this: blood. It has probably
dropped from dead game. Seven of them are
mounted men, and three walked. One of them
was lame and has hurt himself recently, for he
threw the weight of his body on the right foot as
far as possible. They have gone to that river."
"Oh, let us go back! Come! Come, Juan!"
cried out Nita, and began to run in the opposite
direction from that taken by the unknown travelers.
Stop, Nita; stop called out Juan.
But Nita would not stop. She had Casteel for a
motive-power, and got over so much ground that
Juan was put to it to overtake her. When'he
seized her by the arm, she cried out angrily:
Why do you stop me ? Let us fly back to the
ravine as fast as we can."
"Oh, no; that won't do, Nita We can't go
back there! he said.
Then, where shall we go ? she asked.
."We shall have to get to water," he said.
There will be no water where we came from by
to-morrow, perhaps. At best, in a few days it will
be all gone; and we must have food, too. Let
me think." He did think, and. soon gave the con-
clusion he had reached. When you set an old
hound on wolves, he always takes the back track,'
Casteel says. That 's what I am going to do.
The Indians are going to their camp with the
game they have killed. They won't turn back.
We shall be safer behind them than anywhere



else, if we don't go too close. I shall follow their
trail until we get near the river, and then' I '11
reconnoiter and see what I can see, and decide
what we would best do. Come on! "
"Oh, Juan Dearest Juan Don't deo that!
You must be mad to think of it! Nita expostu-
lated. "They will be stre to find us and kill us.
Oh, do, do, do come back to the ravine, or go
somewhere! -anywhere !- except to the river! "
A brother who threw.himself into the teeth of an
enemy, jumped down his very: throat, as it were, at
one time, and stuck to his heels another, was a
brother that Nita could not understand at all, So
she wept and sobbed and urged instant flight; and
Juan waited patiently: until her tears and terrors
were somewhat abated, and-then. he explained
again his views and intentions, kindly and affec-
tionately; and at last Nita, unconvinced but con-
quered, yielded.. She shivered and -looked back;
she shivered and .looked forward; she started: at
the sound of Juan's voice, and trembled at her own
shadow. She stopped occasionally and re-opened
the question as to whether they should go on or go
back; but Juan went on, and she,.with- many a
sigh, followed. She had no other choice. About
a mile from the river, Juan stopped.
"We will take our dinner under this oak," -he
said. If any one comes this way, we can climb up
into the tree; if no one comes, wewill stay until
darkness allows us to go nearer. Noticed, early
this morning, that all the game we came upon was
very wild. could not understand it then.. These
Indians have been here for: some weeks, I think.
The party whose tracks we saw this morning has
been off hunting a long-way from here; otherwise,
they would, not. be going'.back to camp at this
hour of the day. They will feel quite secure, :nd
will not be on the lookout for us., I think, if ike
are careful, we can creep right upon them to-
night." .
Juan's eyes sparkled at the idea, and he seemed
to be regarding it as a great treat in store for both.
But Nita took quite another view of it. -
"I can't go that near, Juan. I can't, indeed !
I won't! I would n't, for anything in the world,
creep up to Casteel! He would see me. No
woods could hide me from him. I hate him "
she said, rapidly, with a shudder, as the recollec-
tion of his figure presented itself to her mind.
"Very well, Nita; you can stay somewhere
while I go. I don't believe they are Comanches;
but I must find out," said Juan.
Nita was willing to take a great deal for granted
where Indians were concerned, and had no desire
to make further investigation; but she knew it was.
useless to attempt to dissuade Juan. She had but
small appetite for dinner, and was a prey to the

most distressing anxieties, Suppose Juan should
be killed or captured, and she left alone in the
woods ? What if they were to be carried off by a
strange tribe to another mountain fastness, from
which. it would be. impossible to escape? The
idea of being re-enslaved, now that she had tasted
the sweetness of liberty, and was full of hope for
the future, was quite unbearable to Nita, and
brought out a last appeal:
"' Do turn back, Juan We.may as well die of
thirst as be recaptured, perhaps killed."
"Oh, we are not caught yet," he coolly replied;
and she wondered to see him eat his noonday meal
as unconcernedly as. though he were taking it at
the hacienda. He seemed to be ravenously hun-
gry, and could have devoured all .the food they
had, but prudently left two small-pieces of turkey
for their supper. :'
When dusk came, and they could travel across
the open stretch of prairie that separated the motte*
of timber in which they were lIidi.E; from the
woods that fringed the river, the children walked
swiftly toward the point of entrance Juan had se-
lected, Having secured the shelter afforded by
this strip of forest, Juan -parted the interlacing
boughs of some: tall thick bushes; and signed to
kNita to enter. She obeyed; ;Amigo followed her,
and Juan let the boughs swing-back into place.
The child and dog were completely hidden; and,
satisfied of this, Juan stood still for a moment and
looked about-him and above.him, fixing certain
points in his mind. -He was starting, :i'' vith his
own light, quick,. noiseless step, -when he looked
around and. saw that Amigo, had popped out of
.1i lea. covert, -and.was follov:ing-him. He also
heard a low, plaintive cry, Oh, Juan, don't leave
me'!-",from Nita.-
S" Go back, sir go back!" he said to Amigo, who
looked up into his face with an expression of mild
but settled obstinacy, varied by pne of lively in-
quiry that expressed, What are you up to now,
I should like to know ?" 'Amigo paid no heed
to a second command. Juan picked up a stone.
The dog turned tail and would have fled; he had
an objection to being shut up in out-of-the-way
places when there was good sport to be had.
But Juan seized him roughly by the neck, and half
led, half pushed him into the very lap of Nita, who
was seated on the ground. She received Amigo
with open arms, and soon reconciled him to the
situation by her caresses. As for Juan, he was
off that instant, only stopping to say, Be quiet.
Don't move about. I 'l not be long."
How many hours Nita staid crouched down in
the midst of the bushes while Juan was crawling,
wriggling, gliding, sliding along on his way to the
camp, as only a snake or an Indian or he could,

* Grove.





she never knew. It seemed to her, in her terror
and loneliness, half the night. It was probably
about two hours. But at last, when she had almost
despaired of ever seeing him again, he returned,
slipped into her hiding-place, clapped a hand
over Amigo's mouth to prevent his barking, and
gave an account of his expedition.
"Indians, as I thought," he said; "but not
Comanches Lipans. I know, for I found this,"
he said, holding up an arrow. They always
feather and paint them like this. Casteel has an
arrow of every tribe for many miles, and I knew it
was a Lipan arrow the moment I saw it. They are
camped about a half mile distant, not far from the
river. It is an old camp, and they have been there
VOL. XIV.-30.

for at least two moons. They have killed and dried
a great quantity of meat, and I think they will break
camp soon and go on the warpath. They were
restringing their bows and straightening their ar-
rows to-night. There are about seventy-five war-
riors, almost all young; and I stole this from under
their very noses." Juan laughed quietly, with
carefully suppressed amusement as he spoke, and
held out for inspection a long strip of jerked veni-
They are so busy with their preparations for
the expedition they have planned, whatever it is,
that they will not straggle about much. They
will stick to their camp, I think. But we are a
little too close to them," Juan added.



~~ 'el



"Oh, yes! we are! Entirely too close,", agreed
Nita, who would have liked to be a thousarid
miles away.
We will drop down below here, a little nearer
the river," said Juan. "We need a good rest,
and I am going to take it. In two or three days
they will be off, and then we can stay as long as we
"Two of three'days ? Oh, Juan !" replied Nita,
to whom this ..unded like two or three months.
"Well, I don't know,' said Juan. "-To-mor-
row, perhaps. Don't be scared. I will keep well
out of their way; trust me for that. We must n't
eat anything to-night, and as little as possible
to-morrow.. I don't know where we are going to
get any more, with seventy-five Indians around."
There was no rest for Nita that night. Juain
stopped at a :.li'c lien di he undergrowth :h-;ki..
crowned a bold cliff above the river, and pointed
to a small grass-co:cr.i ee m.iurid. saying :
"There is a rice little bie tor you, hermanita

n:., all made up and quite ready. Let us take
a plunge and a jolly swim in the river before we go
to sleep."
But Nita was afraid the sound of splashing water
would be overheard by some stray Indian, and
denied herself the bath that might have soothed
and refreshed her over-tired, over-excited body
and induced sleep. She slipped down to the
riverside, indeed, but it was only to slake her
thirst;. and all that night she lay awake, listening
to the musical ripple of the water as it ran over
a ledge of rock near by, and dreading all possible
and impossible, evils.
The river, however, as it flowed past the Indian
camp, told no tales about two children on a cliff.
The r.i1ht- ..rd wandered from treeto tree and
learned the secrets of every leaf,-but kept its own
counsel The stars that often. looked down on'
wicked men. and deeds would not-betray these
innocent children, and no harm came to Juan and

THE "0QoLln JLAC1)

- i Y_ A
1?,The Yfooli5l ,lamingo t sahe looked in the olass .

Ah, foolish flamingo!

She fell in love with herself alas!
h 0ol= Fmo !

Her beaux all exclaimed as they. lft in a huff,
The bird has one lover, and one is enough h "

Ah, foolish flamingo! !!








IN the first year of the civil war, there were
two ships building unlike any that had ever been
seen in this world; one at Norfolk, in Virginia, and
the other at Brooklyn, in the State of New Yqrk.
Up to that time the navies of all nations had been
made of wood; and when a wooden ship is struck
in battle, every child knows it may be set on fire,
or so torn.to pieces that unless the rush of water
into the hole is instantly stopped, the ship must
sink. This is what makes a sea fight so terrible.
Now, it occurred to the leaders on both sides in
the great war, that if they. could cover a ship with
iron which a cannon-ball could not penetrate,
that ship would be able to destroy all its enemies.
It would be like some of the wonders of the
"Arabian Nights"; whoever possessed this en-
chanted vessel could do infinite harm to others
without receiving any damage in return. He could
attack and demolish whole fleets, and not only
fleets, but even forts, and the cities which the
fleets and forts defended. So both sides set to
work to try to build such a wonderful ship.
The Southerners got the start. They were
blockaded from the world, and had neither means
nor material to construct an ordinary vessel of war;
but their energy was great, and they possessed the
American faculty of invention.
If you look at the map, you will see that the city
of Norfolk stands on the Elizabeth River, only a
few miles south of the point where that stream
empties into the James. It is, however, completely
hidden from view at the mouth by the windings
of the river. Here, before the war, the United
SStates owned a large navy-yard which, early in
1861, fell into the hands of the Confederates, but
not until all' the vessels had been either sunk or
burned. Among the ships thus destroyed was a
huge steam frigate, called the Merrimac, carrying
forty guns,-one of the largest vessels in the
American navy.
This wreck the Southerners thought would do
for their purposes. They hoisted it out of its miry
bed, and then cut it down till the deck was level
with the water. Next they boarded over each end
for more than seventy feet, Then, on the middle
-portion, one hundred and seventy feet long, they
built a wooden wall, rising on all sides seven feet
from the water's edge, and sloping inward like a
roof, till the sides came within twenty feet of each
other at the top. This wall, or roof,- you may call
it which you please,--they completely covered with

iron plates four inches thick, riveted into the wood.
The vessel then looked like a huge iron box, or a
long, low fort with port-holes in the sides through
which the guns could be fired. There were ten
of these guns; one at each end, bow and stern,
the others at the sides. In front was an iron horn,
or ram, that projected two feet and a half, intended
to strike and pierce the vessel of the enemy. The
top of the box was covered with an iron grating to
keep off some of the mischief of shells falling from
above. Through this grating came all the light
and air that the crew received, and when the ship
was not in battle, it served for a promenade.
The vessel was worked with the old engines, which
had of course been greatly damaged by the burn-
ing and sinking they had undergone. Nothingat
all like this structure had ever been known in war.
One or two iron ships had been built in England
and France, but none had ever been used in actual
battle. The Merrimac was an experiment. She
was, indeed, hardly a ship, but a floating fort.
The Southerners had no navy, and it was diffi-
cult to find a crew; but three hundred men, who
had once been sailors, were finally recruited from
their army. The commander was Commodore
Buchanan, and the next in rank Lieutenant Jones,
both of whom had been officers of the United
States Navy.
Every effort was made to keep the building of
the new ship a secret from- the North, but this,
proved impossible, and the XVashir~gon Govern-
ment at once set about preparing .to .meet so
formidable an enemy. For if the Merrimac proved
a success, she could destroy any ship in the world,
enter any harbor at the North, passing the;forts,
and fire directly into the heart of New York or
Boston from the bay. Nothing could withstand
a ship the armor of which was impenetrable.
Captain John Ericsson, a Swede by birth, but
an American citizen, had long been planning an
iron-clad ship of his own, and his plans were now
laid before the Government and accepted. He
built at Brooklyn, in, New York harbor, hat he
called a fighting machine. Instead of a great
floating fort, heavy and difficult to move,'; h, de-
signed a small battery of only two heavy' guns,
which was to be able to move in shallow. water
where the great ship could not go, to, be -itself as
fully protected by its iron armor as the Merrimac,
but, being small, to be easily handled; to be able to
turn more quickly, to approach the enemy at close



quarters when it chose, and to escape every attack
which it could not withstand. The great question,
however, was the protection-the armbr.
To provide for this, Ericsson contrived a struct-
ure, you can hardly call it a ship, one hundred and
seventy feet long, and about forty wide, and reach-

ing eleven feet below the water, while the deck was
only one foot above. There was nothing whatever
above the deck but the pilot-house, and a revolving
iron tower with two guns on the inside; these were
the only cannon aboard, but they fired shot weigh-
ing one hundred and eighty pounds. The object of
the revolvingtower was to be able to get along with
fewer guns. By turning the tower, the same gun
could be used in any direction; whereas, in a great
unwieldy ship the whole mass must turn, or you can
only fire from one side. The tower or turret was
twenty feet across and nine feet high. The tops
of the smoke pipes also rose six feet above the deck,
and the blower pipes four and a half feet; but when
the thing was fighting, these pipes were removed,
and the openings were covered with iron gratings,
so that there was nothing to aim at, nothing to be
struck or injured, but the turret and the pilot-
house.. The deck -was .plated with, iron, which
hung over so as to guard the hull.

The pilot-house was extremely small, containing
just space for three men and the wheel. It was
built entirely of iron, in solid blocks twelve inches*
deep and nine inches thick. The only look-out was
through an opening left between the blocks, mak-
ingalong and narrow sight-hole all around the pilot-

house, five-eighths of an inch in width. In battle
the commanding officer was to remain in the pilot-
house, and direct the action of the ship and the
guns, while the next in rank, the executive officer,
superintended the firing. A speaking trumpet con-
nected the pilot-house and the turret and conveyed
the commander's orders. Everything else-en-
gines, boilers, anchor, officers' rooms, quarters for
the men-all were below; all shielded from the
enemy by the iron armor reaching over the deck on
the outside. The whole thing looked like a cheese-
box on a raft, or as one of the Southerners said
when he saw it for the first time -like a tin can on a
shingle. Ericsson called it the Monitor, because
it was to admonish, or warn, the Southerners that
they could not resist the Union.
As the news came North that the Merrimac was
nearly complete, and might come out of her hiding
place in the Elizabeth River, at any tite, work was
pressed on the Monitor night and day. For the



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whole result of the war might be changed if the
Confederate monster got out of the James. Indeed,
if the Monitor met her, it was uncertain whether
this strange invention of Ericsson could withstand
the gigantic ship. Still there was this chance,
the only one. The little craft was begun in Octo-
ber, 1861, and in less than a hundred days was
launched. On -the ,25th of February she was
,handed over to the Government. She had a
ship's company of fifty-eight souls, Lieutenant
Worden commanding, and Lieutenant Greene, a
boy of twenty-two, next in rank. The crew was
composed of volunteers from other vessels of war
in New York harbor. The duty was known to be
especially hazardous, the service difficult in the
extreme; the men must live in low, cramped
quarters; there was no sailing apparatus what-
ever; the strange little skiff must be worked alto-
gether by steam, and the entire mechanism was
unfamiliar to the seamen; but a crew was easily
found, and on the 6th of March the Monitor was
towed out of New York bay.
The next day there was a moderate breeze, and
it was soon seen that the Monitor was unfit to go
to sea. Unless the wind had gone down, she
would have been wrecked on her first voyage.
The deck leaked, and the waves came down in tor-
rents under the tower. They struck the pilot-house
and poured in through the slit-holes, knocking the
pilot away from the wheel. They came down the
blow-holes in the deck, and the engines were
stopped below, for the fires could not get air.
When the men -tried to check the inundation they
were nearly choked with escaping gas, and had
to be dragged out to the top of the turret to be
revived. The water continued to pour down in
such quantities that there was danger of sinking.
The pumps did not work, and the water was
handed up in buckets. All night long the crew
was fighting the leaks, and with an exhausted,
anxious company, the Monitor plowed through
the waves to Hanipton Roads.
Those who wish to understand what follows
must look at the map again. Hampton Roads is
the name given to the broad sheet of water at the
mouth of the James, into which that river expands
before it empties into Chesapeake Bay. On Sat-
urday, the 8th of March, a Union fleet was mov-
irig about this harbor between Fortress Monre,
at the entrance of the -bay, and Newport News,
a point that juts out from the northern shore seven
Miles up the river. Off Newport News two sail-
ing frigates were anchored, about three hundred
yards from shore the Cumberland of thirty guns,
and the Congress carrying fifty cannoni-both first-
class men-of-war. Farther toward the sea was the
Minnesota, a steam frigate of forty guns, and still

beyond her lay the Roanoke, her sister ship, and
the St. Lawrence, a sailing vessel of war,-all of
the largest size known in the American navy. There
were besides, several smaller steamers, armed tugs,
floating about the Roads. This fleet was engaged
in blockading the James-the only avenue between
Richmond and the sea. Fortress Monroe, the
great work at the entrance, and a land battery at
Newport News were the only points on the James
at that time in. the possession of the Northerners;
but their naval strength enabled them to command
the river and prevent all communication between
Richmond and the outside world.
On the southern side of the bay the Confeder-
ates had several batteries, the most important of
which was at Sewell's Point; to protect the mouth
of the Elizabeth and the approach to Norfolk.
About noon on the 8th of March, the Merrimac
appeared. Steaming out of the Elizabeth River,
she came into the Roads and headed direct for
Newport News, where the Cumberland and the
Congress lay, unconscious of the approaching
danger. The Cumberland was a little west of
the peninsula, the Congress about two hundred
yards to the east. Both ships were at anchor, the
crews were washing their clothes, the small boats
were fastened to the booms. But as the monstrous
mass moved steadily on, all knew at once what thed
black-looking object must be. The boats were
dropped astern, all hands were ordered- to their
places, and the Cumberland was swung across the
channel so that her broadside would bear against
the stranger.
As the Merrimac approached, she looked like a
huge crocodile floating on the surface of the water.
SHer iron sides rose slanting and like the roof of a
house or the arched back of a tortoise, the ram
projecting in front above the water's edge. A flag
was floating from one staff and a pennant at the
stern; but not a man could be seen on the out-
side. She came at the rate of four or five miles an
hour. When she got within half a mile, the Cum-
berland opened fire, followed by the Congress, the
gunboats and the batteries on shore. The Merri-
mac, however, made straight for the' Cumberland,
delivering a broadside into the Congress as she
passed. The Congress returned the broadside, and
the Cumberland poured in another, but the balls
bounced like India-rubber from her mailed sides,
making not the slightest impression. The flagstaff
was cut away, but no one could get out to replace
it, and she fought for awhile with only the pennant
at her stern.
Now the Congress and the Cumberland and all
the shore batteries poured in their fire, and the
Merrimac fired forward into the Cumberland, kill-
ing and wounding the: crew of one of the guns.



Two small vessels that had followed in her wake
from Norfolk also took sides, and three Confederate
gunboats came down the James to participate, while
the Minnesota, the Roanoke, and the St. Lawrence
all started from their moorings for the battle.
But the Merrimac steered steadily for the Cum-
berland and crushed her iron horn into the vessel's
side, making an enormous hole. The frigate was
forced back upon her anchors with a tremendous
shock, and the water at once went rushing into the
hole. The Merrimac then drew off, but her ram was
broken, and she left it sticking in the Cumberland's
side. All the Union vessels now poured shot and
shell into or rather at the Merrimac. Two of her
guns had the muzzles blown off, one of her anchors
and all the smoke-pipes were shot away; ropes, rail-
ings, timbers, everything unprotected by armor was
swept clean off. The flagstaffs were repeatedly
shot away, and the colors after a while were hoisted
to the smoke-stack; when that went, they were
fastened to a boarding-pike. One of the crew came
out of a port-hole to the outside, and was instantly
killed. But the armor was hardly damaged, though
a hundred heavy guns must have been turned on
it at once from ship or shore.
The Merrimac herself kept up her fire on both
the Cumberland and the Congress from her differ-
ent sides. After a while she advanced again
towards the Cumberland, and shot one shell that
killed nine men, following this up with a broadside
that mowed down officers, sailors, and gunners;
for on the upper deck there was no protection
.whatever. The men stood up like targets, fight-
ing against foes who were themselves unseen
and completely shielded. Lieutenant Morris, who
commanded the Cumberland, was summoned to
surrender; but he replied, "Never! I '11 sink
alongside." The water all this time was rushing
into the hole made by the ram, the vessel had
been set on fire in several places, and the decks
were covered with dead and dying men. The
Merrimac was now within three hundred yards, and
from her safe iron walls her crew could send each
ball to its mark. The water kept pouring into
the Cumberland, not only at the great hole made
by the ram, but after a while at the port-holes.
As the ship sank lower and lower, the crew was
driven from deck to deck upward, working the
guns that were left unsubmerged. At thirty min-
utes past three the water had risen to the spar
deck, and the crew delivered a parting fire. Each
man then tried to save himself by jumping over-
board; some scrambled through the port-holes,
others leaped from the rigging or the masts, but
many went down kvith the ship, which settled with
.a roar, the stars and stripes still waving. That
flag was finally submerged, but even after the hull

had grounded on the sands, the pennant was still
flying from the topmast above the waves. None
of the crew were captured, but nearly all the
wounded were drowned. In all, about a hundred
were lost: small boats came out from shore and
rescued the remainder under the Confederate fire.
. The Merrimac now turned upon the Congress,
which, seeing the fate of her comrade, had moved
in toward shore and purposely run aground, where
the Merrimac could not follow without also getting
aground. This would have been fatal to the heavy
Confederate battery, so that there was no danger
of the Merrimac ramming the Congress. Still, the
unhappy frigate was at the mercy of her enemy.
The iron monster came up so close that her crew
fired pistol-shots into the port-holes of the Con-
gress. The Minnesota and her sister frigates had
all got aground lower down the bay, and were un-
able to assist their struggling consort.
The Merrimac at last took a position astern, at
a distance of only one hundred and fifty yards,
and raked her helpless antagonist fore and aft.
The other Confederate vessels all came up and
poured shot and sell into the stranded ship.
The commander was killed. There was no pros-
pect of relief from the Minnesota. The men were
knocked away from the guns as fast as they tried
to fire, and at last not a single piece could be
brought to bear on the enemy. The ship was on
fire in several places, and at half-past four the
colors were lowered. When the father of Captain
Joseph Smith, the commander of the Congress,
was told that the Congress had shown the white
flag of surrender, he simply remarked, "Jo 's
dead." He knew that his son would not have sur-
rendered had he been alive.
Buchanan, who commanded the Merrimac, at
once sent a boarding party, and the flag, as well
as the sword of the dead commander of the Con-
gress, was surrendered. The second in rank was
directed to transfer his wounded to the Merrimac
as quickly as possible; but the batteries on shore
kept up their fire and would not permit the,re-
moval of the prisoners, although the white flag was
flying. We have not surrendered," said Gen-
eral Mansfield, in command at Newport News.
As Buchanan was unable to take possession of
the prize, he ordered hot shell to be fired at her,
and the Congress was soon in flames in every
part. At the same moment he was himself shot
and severely wounded. His brother was an officer
on the Congress, so that they fought each other.
The Confederates were driven off by the renewed
fire, and the crew of the Congress escaped in small
boats, or by swimming, to the shore; but thirty
.were captured and many lost.
The Merrimac now turned her attention to the



Minnesota, which was aground and at the mercy of
the Confederates. It was only five o'clock, and
there were still two hours of daylight; but the tide
was ebbing, and there was some dispute on the
Merrimac about the channel. The. Confederates
supposed they had only to wait till morning to
secure the remainder of the fleet: rescue was im-
possible: the giant could dispatch whichever vic-
tim stood in the way. So the Merrimac retired to
the entrance of the Elizabeth River and waited till
morning to resume her task. She had lost two
men killed and nineteen wounded.
During that terrible night the Minnesota lay
within a mile and a half of Newport News, on the

mouths of fiery furnaces; a shell or a loaded gun
went off from time to time, as the fire reached it,
and at two o'clock the magazine exploded with a
tremendous shock and sound. A mountain sheaf
of flame went up, a flash seemed to divide the sky,
aid the blazing fragments were scattered in every
direction. When the glare subsided the rigging
had vanished, and only the hull remained, charred
and shattered. The port-holes were blown into
one great gap, where the conflagration blazed and
smoldered till morning.
That night there was consternation not only in
the fleet and at Fortress Monroe, but farther
yet,atWash / ington, and all over the North.


sandbank where the ship seemed to have made a
cradle for herself. At ten the tide turned to flood,
and all hands were at work from that time till four
in the morning with steam-tugs and ropes en-
deavoring to haul the ship off the bank, but with-
,out avail. The St. Lawrence and the Roanoke
were below in the harbor.
The moon was in her second quarter. The
mast-head of the Cumberland could be seen above
the waves, with her colors still flying, while a little
:south of Newport News the Congress was in ablaze.
As the flames crept up the rigging, every mast
and spar and rope glittered against the sky in lines
,of fire. The port-holes in the hull looked like the

It seemed as if nothing could prevent the complete
success of the Merrimac. The anxious vessels lay in
the Roads, the Minnesota waiting to be destroyed,
like the Cumberland and the Congress, in the morn-
ing. The President and his cabinet were discussing
gloomily what might happen, and in every city at
the North men lay awake dreading the news of the
morrow. For it was not only that the victory of
the Union was delayed, that its forces were resisted,
its ships destroyed, but disaster might be carried
to any one of the harbors or cities of the Atlantic
by this one vessel, which could -find no opponent
to withstand her, since she was herself .invulnera-
ble while. able to deal irresistible blows.

* From the Cyclorama of the Monitor and the Merrimac, New York City. By permission of the proprietors.




At the South, on the other hand, the rejoicing
a t *:xtr:L\aadnIt. The rc;iilt itsi-ic was exagger-
ated; the wilIdect hop-: .ere c:hei -1hd. The block-
ade 'was to be. raise., thl: Ar ended, the South to be
made Independenr--all l.cau:. r the Merrimac.
On the spot, the. pln was to destroy the Minnesota
in the mornirn and later the remainder of the fleet
below Fortress Monroe. The crew of the Merri-
mac slept at their guns dreaming of other victories.
But' neither side knew what was to happen in
the morning. The Monitor had weathered the gale
and the c:h.inrces of wreck,' and at four o'clock on
Saturday afternoon, the 8th of March, she passed
Gape Henry, at the entrance of Chesapeake. Bay..
Here the' cpmmandet heard the firing of distant
cannon, and guessed that there was a fight with
the Confederat, Leviathan. The Monitor must
be put t., tr.ia at onc.e.
He ordered the vessel prepared for battle. As
they.got nearer, a pilot boarded the Monitor and
told the history of the battle. At nine o'clock in
the night Worden reached the fleet and reported
to the commanding officer. Every one was de-
pressed, and the mite of a Monitor seemed no
more a champion than David with .is sling, after
Goliah had defied the Israelites. Nevertheless,
Worden was ordered at once to the relief of
the Minnesota, still hard aground. He arrived
in time to see the explosion of the Congress, but

was unable, of course, to render assistance to his
sinking comrades.
At daybreak Worden perceived the Merrimac at
anchor with the Confederate gunboats, near Sew-
ell's Point. At half-past seven,the Titan got under.
way, and started direct for the Minnesota. At
once the little Monitor came out from behind the
-frigate to guard her lofty consort. Worden took
his station in the pilot-house, which projected
only four feet above the deck; Greene, with six-
teen men, was in the turret. The remainder of
the crew was distributed in the engine and fire
rooms, or was in the magazine The Monitor
was fresh from the danger of shipwreck;. the men
exhausted by exposure and fatigue, by loss of
sleep, and even lack of food, for in the emergency
they had been unable to cook. They were in the
midst of the wrecks of the last day's battle, and
the fighting quality of the little craft-itself-was yet
to be ascertained. But in such condition men's
quality is tested. The greatest battles on land are
usually fought by soldiers, hungry, and after long
and exhausting marches: always won at the end of
i'frious fighting and tremendous excitement that in
ordinary times would drain the strength and spirits
of the bravest.
On the Merrimac all was elation. The crew had
slept and rested and eaten; they had achieved a
magnificent victory, and came out only to complete

* From the Cyclorama of the Monitor and the Merrimac, New York City. By permission of the proprietors.



the success that was already, they thought, secure.
They saw the little Monitor covering and protecting
with her diminutive proportions the mighty Min-
nesota, and had no fear of the result.
Worden made at once for the enemy's fleet, so
as to attack them at as great a distance as possible
from the Minnesota. As he approached, with one
or two shots he drove the wooden vessels at once
out of range. Then, to the astonishment of all the
spectators on the ships around and on both shores,
the tiny Mbnitor.laid herself directly alongside the
Merrimlac and stopped her engines; the port-hole
was opened, the gun was. run out, and the dwarf
attacked the monster. But the Merrimac was
ready. Gun after gun was returned by her rapid
broadsides, now only sixty yards away. The Merri-
mac had ten guns to the Monitor's two, and the
tower and deck and pilot-house of the pigmy were
struck again and again. But though the shots struck,
they only made indentations; the armor was proof;

an experiment. To the spectators the shots of the
Confederate vessel seemed to have no more effect
than so many pebbles thrown by a child.
The battle, when once begun, went on with-
out intermission. The object of Worden was, of
course, to penetrate the enemy's armor of mail.
With this purpose he maneuvered his little vessel,
flying around the larger ship, turning from time to
time with wonderful speed, and then getting along-
side and firing his guns as rapidly as they could be
loaded. He pointed his bow at that of the enemy
in the hope of sending a shot through the port-
hole; then he tried to rake her through the stern.
Once he attempted to strike the stern, the Mer-
rimac pouring broadside after broadside into the
Monitor all the while, and the recoil from the shots
within the tower was terrific. One man leaning
against the wall of the turret was disabled merely
by the shock, and forced to go below. Connec-
tion between the turret and the pilot-house was


and, more than all, the turret worked and turned,
so that the gunners could'lreply to the fire they
received. When this was certain, the crew felt
reassured; for it was plain that the results of yes-
terday could not be renewed. The Merrimac had
found an antagonist. The. Monitor was no longer

interrupted, and orders and replies were carried
by messengers. As the commander himself was
obliged to remain in the pilot-house to direct the
course of the ship, and the next in rank, who had
charge of the firing, was shut up in the tower, their
communication was not only difficult but sometimes



impossible at a critical moment. The turret, too,
did rot always revolve easily, and prodigious exer-
tions were required to control its motion. Greene,
the executive officer, had only an aperture of a
few inches above the muzzles 6f his guis through
which to select his aim. Even this he could use
only at intervals; for the moment the gun was runm
in to load, the loop-hole had to be covered, by a
huge iron shutter; and the labor of moving and.
closing this shutter was so great that it took the
whole gun's crew to perform it. Thus at every
moment of the battle the exertions of the men were
The tremendous guns were eleven inches across
the muzzle, and the shock of the firing in this con-
fined space was deafening, as well as the noise of

'- :'r---

the balls striking incessantly on the outside. The
'- ''r s::. '- ''- t:.

small a space, and got very nervous from"the
excitement; but they kept at their work. It was


the balls striking incessantly on the outside. The
men. became grimy with powder, shut up in so
small a space, and got very nervous from the
excitement; but they kept at their work. It was
difficult to aim. White marks had been made
on the deck to indicate the position of the differ-
ent sides of the ship; for as the tower revolved
they could not know, shut up in there, which
was right and which was left; but the marks
became obliterated in the action, and Greene
had constantly to ask the captain where he was,
and where the Merrimac. "On the starboard,"
which is seaman's word for the right of the
ship. "But which is starboard ? Sometimes
the guns were properly directed, but before
they could be fired, the turret moved; and
when it was controlled, the aim was lost. Still,
nearly all the enemy's shot flew over the sub-
merged propeller; there was nothing for a mark;

nothing to strike but the turret and the pilot-
house; and when the shots struck the bomb-
proof tower, they glanced off without effect.
Finding she could accomplish nothing with the
Monitor, the Merrimac turned upon the wooden
ships, and put an enormous shot into the Min-
nesota, tearing four rooms into one, and set-
ting the-.ship on fire. The fire was quickly
extinguished, and the Minnesota replied with a
broadside that would have blown out of water
any wooden ship in the world; but the Merrimac
was unharmed. It seemed like magic, and in
other days would doubtless have been considered
the effect of wicked enchantment. Fifty solid
shot struck on the slanting sides without any ap-
parent result. The Merrimac fired three times, in

-* 1, ^ '5.'

L-- : .:-- ^ -, -."' .. ......... -


Return, at the Minnesota, and would soon have
destroyed her, but the little Monitor came dancing
down to the rescue, placing herself directly between
the two huge crafts, and compelled the Merrimac to
change her position.
In doing this, the monster grounded, and then
the Minnesota poured in all the guns that could be
brought to bear. Nearly every shot of the Moni-
tor now struck home. A Confederate officer tells
this story : When the commander of the Merri-
mac said to an officer apparently idle:
Why do you not fire ?"
"Our ammunition is precious," was the reply;
"and after two hours' incessant firing, I find I can
do her about as much damage by snapping-my
thumb at her."
But the Merrimac got off the bottom, and then
the little Monitor followed her down the bay.
The Monitor could move in only eleven feet of

* See John Taylor Wood's article, Century Magazine, March, x885.



water, while the Merrimac required twenty-three,
and the depth of the water was constantly varying;
for the bottom of the river is as uneven as the
land, it has its hills and valleys; andeverynow and
then the larger ship would strike one of those hill-
tops below the water, and stick fast; so that for a
while she could not move. It took the Merrimac
thirty minutes to turn. Her officers declared she
was as unwieldy as Noah's ark, and while she was
turning, the Monitor fired at her from such points
as she chose, running all around her to find a
mark. The smoke-stack of the Merrimac was gone,
and the engines consequently could hardly work;
this also, of course, impeded her movements, and in

this battle it was as important to be able to move
as to fire; just as in a fight between men, he who
is alert and agile can avoid the enemy's blows and
then leap quickly and deliver a telling one himself.
This fight, indeed, was almost human in its char-
acter. It was single-handed. The channel was
narrow, and the Monitor could move about where
her enemy could not come, so that her diminutive
size was itself an element in her favor.
After a while, however, the Merrimac was in
motion again, determined now to use her strength,
and if possible, crush her pigmy adversary. She
turned and ran full tilt at the Monitor as she had
run at the unlucky Cumberland the day before.
For a moment, to the lookers-on it seemed as if
the Monitor was doomed, and the hearts of the
officers of the Minnesota were in their throats.
But Worden saw what was coming, and skillfully
moved aside, so that he received only a passing
blow from the disabled ram of the Merrimac. The
little craft went down' under the tremendous head-
way, but came dancing up again, and instantly,
Greene delivered one of his heavy shots, striking
the Merrimac full in the side; if she had been
an ordinary ship it would have sent her to the
bottom, never to rise again. As it was, the
ball forced in the iron armor two or three inches;
while all the crew on that side of the ship were
knocked over and bled from the nose and ears.
Another shot in the same place would have pene-
trated, said the Confederate commander. While
the ships were alongside, the commander of the
Merrimac called for men to board the Monitor and
overwhelm her by numbers, but the little thing
was beyond reach before his command could be



After a while, Worden's ammunition gave out;
that is, the supply that had been hoisted to the
turret. Then the Monitor moved away out of fire
till the turret could be so placed that the scuttles
in her floor were brought over those in the decks,
in order to pass up the ammunition. While this op-
eration was proceeding, Worden thought he would
take an outside view. Accordingly, he dragged him-
self through one of the port-holes, and remained
on deck for a few moments unharmed. Upon his
return the battle was renewed.
There was great danger that the fire of the Mon-
itor might damage herself; for, while the tower was
revolving, if a charge should strike the pilot-house,
everything would be lost. On the other hand, if
a single shot of the Merrimac entered the Moni-
tor's port-holes and exploded, the battle would be
over. There were no other men on board to take
the place of the gunners, if these were killed or
wounded. This was one of the disadvantages of
the size of the Monitor. There was only room
for so many men; even the fifty-eight that com-
posed the crew were crowded and cramped.
About noon the crisis of the battle occurred.
The Confederates determined to direct their attack
on the pilot-house of their enemy, and when the
little craft was only ten yards away they sent one
shell full against the sight-hole of the Monitor. In
exploding, it tore off the top of the pilot-house,
and wounded the gallant commander. Worden
was blinded with the powder, and for a moment
stunned. He supposed that all was lost, for the
sudden glare of light that poured in on his injured
eyes from the opening made him think the pilot-
house absolutely destroyed. He gave orders to
move off, and sent for Greene. The young officer
found his chief bleeding, blind, and disabled, and
the vessel apparently at the mercy of the enemy.
He led the wounded man to his cabin, and then
the boy assumed command.
The heroic Worden believed himself mortally
hurt, but he asked, in his agony: Is the Minne-
sota safe? When assured of this, he exclaimed:
"Then I can die happy."*
When Greene returned to the pilot-house lie
found the steering apparatus perfect, but the

Monitor had been drifting about without guid-
ance. Twenty minutes elapsed from the time of
the shock before it was determined what course
to pursue, and meanwhile the Merrimac had
withdrawn.. She was leaking badly, her engines
would hardly work, and though doubtless she
might have continued the fight, it was evident
that she could accomplish nothing against her
dwarf antagonist, that was able, preposterous as
it seems, to defend the entire Northern fleet.
Neither adversary had been able to destroy the
other. The Monitor was nbw near shallow water
where the Merrimac could not follow, and at two
o'clock the great battery returned to Sewell's
Point, completely foiled in her object by Erics-
son's little machine. The Monitor fired a few
shots but did not follow.
It required a month to repair the damages the
Merrimac had received, and on the IIth of April,
followed by six gun-boats, she came into the Roads
again. The Monitor was in sight with the Union
fleet, but her orders were positive not to bring on
an engagement in the shallows, where the wooden
vessels would be unable to maneuver, and the
Merrimac returned without a battle. This pro-
ceeding was repeated a few days later; the Merri-
mac steamed out and then returned. Neither
side had another iron-clad, and neither wished to
risk the destruction of the craft that protected so
vast a stake. Thus the Monitor stayed the course
of the Merrimac and prevented all the great results
that were hoped by one side and feared by the
other. For a while the issue of the war seemed to
depend on the little champion, and she stood her
ground. It was like the nursery stories in which
the dwarf beat off the giant and saved the land.
In April the Confederates abandoned Norfolk.
The Merrimac did not dare face her tiny antag-
onist again, and she was run ashore by her own
crew and burnt, exactly two months after the great
battle in Hampton Roads. Thus the modern Min-
otaur, that had threatened a nation, not only with-
drew, but turned on itself and destroyed its huge
form with the fires it had meant for its enemies;
while the little Monitor passed up the James un-
scathed to attack the batteries at Richmond.

*The description of Worden's catastrophe is necessarily taken from Lieutenant Greene's graphic and eloquent paper in the Century
Magazine for March, 1885,- the only possible authority. It is unnecessary to say that an account of a battle written by one who was
not a participant or an eye-witness must, to be correct, be a compilation from the reports of those who were actually present. As for Greene,
he wrote almost as well as he fought.


x887.] A SONG OF SPRING.' 445



So ING a song of Spring cried the-merry March wind loud,
0o 0 As it swept o'er hill and valley from the dark breast of the cloud;
S 0, But the wind-flowers and the violets were still too sound asleep
S Under the snow's warm blanket, close-folded, soft and deep.

D@ 0 Sing a song of Spring cried the pleasant April rain,
With a thousand sparkling touches upon the window-pane.
o wa Then the flowers that waited in the ground woke dreamily and
@ *stirred ;
From root to root, from seed to seed, crept swift the hopeful word.

"Sing a song of Spring! cried the sunshine of the May;
And into bloom the whole world burst in one delicious day !
The patient apple-trees blushed bright in clouds of rosy red,
And the dear birds sang with rapture in the blue sky overhead.

And not a single flower small that April's raindrops woke,
And not a single little bird that into music broke,
But did rejoice to live and grow and strive to do its best,-
Faithful and dutiful and brave through every trial's test.

I wonder if we childreif all are ready as the flowers
To do what God appoints for us through all his days and hours:
To praise him in our duties done, with cheerful joy, because
The smallest of those duties belongs to his great laws.

O Violets, who never fret, nor say, I won't! "I will! ''
Who only live to do your best his wishes to fulfill,
Teach us your sweet obedience, and we may grow to be
Happy, like you, and patient as the steadfast apple-tree!




IN the folk-lore of many of the tribes, that live
along the borders of Northern and Eastern Asia
are found tales quite as marvelous and wonderful
as those handed down to the boys and girls of the
warmer and more civilized countries of the South,
in which fairies, heroic giants, and gods are the
principal figures,- the offspring of vivid tropical
imaginations. But in the tales related to the
children of the. far-away ice country, the main
characters are gigantic animals and monsters of
strange appearance; and as the northern story-



tellers are not noted for their imaginative powers,
we are led to look for some solid foundation of fact
upon which the originators of the myths must have
built their wondrous tales. The Chinese legends
abound in dragons and unicorns; and in Canton,
to-day, may be purchased dragons' bones and
teeth," which form part of the regular stock of the
native druggists.
In the "Chinese Repository" is a quotation from

Li She Chan, the author of a Chinese medical
book. He says, concerning dragons' bones:
The bones are found on banks of rivers and in
caves of the earth, places where the dragon died,
and can be collected at any time."
In the far north, "dragons' bones" were very com-
mon, but they were usually considered there to have
belonged to gigantic birds. To prove their belief,
the natives showed the claws, three or four feet
long, of these monsters, which, if they had ever
existed, must have far exceeded in size the roc of
the "Arabian Nights." Quaint tales of these were
told on winter evenings, perhaps, to native boys
and girls; and little reason had the children to
doubt them, for the claws were so plentiful that
their fathers used them, as the Chukches of East-
ern Siberia do strips of whalebone, to make their
bows, which they use for hunting, more elastic.
Finally, an English
naturalist, while studying
Chinese folk-lore, made
the discovery that the
S"'dragons' bones and
teeth were no more nor
less than the remains of
a great extinct rhinoce-
ros. Soon after, a sci-
entist traveling in North-
ern Siberia heard the na-
tives talking about the
gigantic birds I have just
mentioned, and being
shown a claw," he saw
that it, too, was in reality
a horn of a monster rhi-
noceros that in past ages
had lived in that far-off
S land of ice. But it was
-not until the year 1871
that a European was fort-
HEY WOULD NOT APPROACH IT." unate enough to make
the discovery that set all
doubts at rest and cast confusion among the ranks
of the native believers in the great birds.
The River Viloui, in 640 north latitude, is
frozen a greater part of the year. In the cold
season the natives follow its course to the south;
and as spring comes on, and the snow and ice
melt, they return to take advantage of the fish
and other game to be found on the coast. It was
during one of these migrations that an entire rhi-




x887.] A FROZEN DRAGON. 447

noceros was discovered. The river, swollen by the head was of great size and bore two long horns.
melting snow and ice far to the south, had over- The total length of the large horn was nearly four
flowed its banks and eaten into and undermined feet.
the frozen ground, until finally, with a crash, a Still another frozen rhinoceros was found in
huge mass of mingled earth and ice broke away 1877, upon a tributary of the Lena River. The body
and came thundering down, the ominous sound was well preserved, but of this specimen only the
being heard far and near. A short time later, hairy feet and head were secured, the rest of it
some of the more daring natives ventured near being swept away by a flood. The mammoth, too,
and were rewarded by a sight wonderful in the was protected from the cold by a similar covering
extreme. A broad section of icy earth had been of wool, or hair. The explanation of these an-
exposed, and hanging from a layer of ice and cestors of tropical animals living and dying so far
gravel was a creature so weird that at first they north is perhaps the fact that nowhere else on
would not approach it. It hung partly free, and earth are there found such extremes of tempera-
had evidently been uncovered by the landslide. ture. In the winter it is so cold that the trees
From the head extended a long horn, as tall as explode with a loud noise, and yawning chasms
some of the children, while behind it was another, are formed in the earth's crust by the frost and ice.
smaller one. But the strangest feature of this curi- But the summer, though short, is so extremely
ous monster was that it was covered with hair. warm that the various animals range as far as the
At first, the astonished discoverers thought the polar sea,- where the cold is even less severe
creature was alive, and that it had pushed aside than in the interior,- sheltered by the luxuriant
the earth, and was coming out.- But the great forest growth that extends nearly to its northern-
rhinoceros was dead, and had probably been en- most shores. It was the abundance of food, prob-
tombed thousands of years. The body was frozen ably, that brought the rhinoceros and mammoth
as hard as stone, and the hair-covered hide seemed to that arctic coast; and that they herded there
like frozen leather, and did not hang in folds as in vast numbers is evident from the quantities of
does the skin of living species. Several months tusks found yearly in that region. Ten mam-
passed before the animal was entirely uncovered, moth-tusks have been seen protruding from a sin-
and so perfectly had nature preserved it, that it gle sandbank on one of the New Siberian Islands
was then cut up and the flesh given to the dogs. where for eighty years previously the ivory hunters
The news of this discovery passed from native had been collecting their never decreasing annual
to native and from town to town, until it reached supplies.
the ears of a government officer. He at once sent What caused the extinction of these and othef
orders for the preservation of the carcass, but the forms of animal life is not known. In our own
flesh had already been destroyed; and now only land, long eras before the time of these hairy
its head and feet are preserved in one of the great monsters, there lived a rhinoceros that had six
museums of Russia. There is sufficient, however, horns upon its head. It must have presented a
to show that the creature was hairy, and that its marvelous appearance even in that age of wonders.







THE day following Pinney's unfortunate attempt
to provide a sign for the establishment in which he
was a stockholder was an important one for all
who were directly interested in Jenny's enterprise,
for the plan was. to be fully tested by the introduc-
tion of the two-dollar boarders. The boys were
notified of their good fortune early in the day, and
no small amount of, excitement was caused by the
fact that the boarding-house was really open to the
public. .
If Tom and Ikey had not made a vigorous pro-
test, Duddy Foss and his three companions would
have been escorted to their new home by the en-
tire community of newsdealers; and then, indeed,
Mrs. I'arson, .,.oul: have had good cause for los-
ing hei temper.
It would n't do at all," Tom said decidedly,
'.. when sor.e of. the bpys proposed that all those
who sold papers near the City Hall should visit
the house in;a :body.. '. You see, November will
be asleep then, an' if you wake him, there 's no
tellin' what Jenny's mother might do. Pinney
made things so lively for the baby last night that
I would n't like to try another such a racket."
After a -great amount of discussion the,plan was
abandoned, Tom solemnly promising that, if they
would exercise a little patience, he would intro-
duce them to the baby one by one, an arrange-
ment that would undoubtedly prove more satis-
factory to all than if they all should visit him at
one time.
"We '11 meet you in front of the Astor House
when it 's time to go home," Ikey said to the new
boarders; and Duddy replied mysteriously :
You need n't bother about us. We were n't
thinking' of walking' up with you. Go on jest
you callers do, an' when we 're ready, we '11
It was evident from this that Duddy had some
plan in mind, and that the new.boarders would
make their appearance in a strikingly original
manner, which might or might not be pleasing
either to Jenny or her mother. Ikey asked, appre-
hensively :
You won't do anything to wake up November
if he should be asleep, will you ? "
Now, don't you worry," Duddy said, with a

certain show of dignity. "We know pretty well
what to do, an' how to do it, so that '11 be all
I don't know what they 're up to," Ikey said to
Tom and Pinney a few moments later; "but I
think we 'd better go home a little earlier than we
do regularly, so 's to get Mrs. Parsons feeling' pleas-
ant before they come."
His brother-directors believed this to be -a very
wise.precaution, and as. early as half-past six the
five partners were at the boarding-house, each one
trying to be so agreeable to Mrs. Parsons that she,
growing suspicious, declared that Pinney White
was '.'up t. some of his tricks again.".
November was sleeping in a box which Tom had
promised to convert. into.a cradle.at the very first
opportunity, and the directors had begun to won-
der why the new boarders did .not come, when a
resounding knock was heard at the door, causing
the baby to set up his ".patent scream "without
loss of time..
"I was sure they 'd start some kind of a rum-
pus," Tom muttered to himself, as Ikey ran.quickly
to the door to prevent a repetition ,of the sum-
mons, and he looked at Mrs. Parsons to learn if
she was angry because November had been awak-
ened. Her face wore a reasonably placid look,
however, and Tom joined his -b:rother-directors in
welcoming the guests.
The new boarders marched into the house in
single file, each one dressed in his best, and look-
ing remarkably solemn. Duddy Foss came first,
with a very ragged valise in one hand and a small
bundle in the other, evidently acting as the master
of ceremonies. He had a button-hole bouquet in
his overcoat, which was thrown carelessly back
to display a white shirt in which a large green
glass button was a prominent ornament. He
looked as if he was "dressed up" as much as
possible, and acted as if he was perfectly well
aware of the fact. Behind him came Bart Jones,
who also wore a bouquet and carried two paper
parcels. Bart was arrayed in his best, which was
an army overcoat neatly cut down to fit his dimin-
utive figure. He and Duddy stood in the center
of the floor, without speaking, for several moments,
in order that the directors might admire them.
Billy Sleeper and Fen Howard would gladly have
worn something extra in the way of clothing, to do
honor to the occasion; but, unfortunately, they
owned nothing more than they were accustomed




to appear in. They had larger bouquets than
Duddy's and Bart's, however, and this, in a certain
degree, made up for what might possibly be lack-
ing in the matter of costume.
The new-corners looked for a moment in sur-
prise at November, who was screaming himself red
in the face; and then, as if they had been prac-
ticing the movement, they took the flowers from
their button-holes, handing them to Jenny as
Duddy said with an awkward gesture:
"' The rose is red, the vi'let 's blue,
These flowers are pretty and so are you.'"

(one of which had lost its runner and the other a
portion of its upper works), a base-ball, a pea-
shooter, and a package of candy.
"We've brought these for November," said
Duddy; and as he spoke, the four boys deposited
their gifts in Mrs. Parsons' lap, regardless alike of
the candy that smeared the baby's frock, and the
rust from the one skate-runner that was plentifully
bestowed upon the old lady's clean apron.
"Bless me !" exclaimed Jenny's mother, as she
looked over her spectacles, first at Duddy and
then at the iron-rust on her garments, "what do


"Oh, thank you, boys," replied Jenny, blushing you expect a baby ten months old to do with
at the compliment; bit one is enough for me, these ?"
and you 'd better keep the rest for yourselves." He '11 grow to fit 'em, won't he ?" Duddy
Duddy waved his hand to prevent her from asked, with a look on his face as of painful surprise
returning any portion of the gift, and then looked because November was not so active a child as he
at his companions to be certain that they were had been led to suppose. Anyway, he can eat
admiring his easy, graceful manner of making the candy, can't he ?"
the presentation speech. Being satisfied that they Mrs. Parsons made no reply; and Tom, seeing
were, he gave the signal for another movement by that something in the way of a speech was neces-
winking violently, sary lest the new boarders should feel offended,
This time each of the new boarders unrolled a said:
newspaper package, displaying a pair of skates "We '11 save the things for the baby, Duddy;
VOL. XIV.-31.




an' if Mrs. Parsons don't.want him to eat the
candy, we '11 put it on the table, so's to have
something' extra for the first night's dinner."
This arrangement .was evidently satisfactory to
Duddy and his friends, who now laid aside their
stilted manners. Duddy was eager to inspect the
house, and the directors led the new boarders from
one unfurnished room to another until, every apart-
ment having been seen,.the party halted in front
of the "rules," which had been posted near the
street door .
Duddy spelled out each word; making no com-
ment either upon the regulations or the artistic
ability displayed in the ornamentation until he
came to Sam's effort. Then he said:
Seems. to me you did n't have much to do
when you fixed that one up. Don't it look like
putting' on airs ?"
Just at that moment, Master Tousey remem-
bered that he had forgotten to attend to some very
important duty in the kitchen; and when he had
left the hall, Tom said: .
"You see, Sam fixed that rule. We tried to
get him to make something' different; but he
wanted it this way, an' so we had to put it up with
the rest."
Anybody could tell that Sam Tousey did it,"
Bill Sleeper said, and any further discussion of the
matter was prevented by Jenny's summons to
The new boarders were well pleased with the
room assigned to them, and after they had retired
for the night, Treasurer Ikey called a business
meeting of the directors, for the purpose of receiv-
ing from them such portion of their indebtedness
as they were able to pay.
"'T is n't so much as we oughter have," he said
after he had ascertained the total amount. Sam,
you 've only paid three dollars an' twenty cents,
an' at this rate you won't be out of debt, so that
you can begin payin' board, till some time next
"I've paid you all I made," replied Master
Tousey rather sulkily. I did n't have as much
money to begin with as the rest of you fellers,
an' I have n't had a chance to earn as much
You have had the same chance," said Pinney,
quickly; "but you like to stand in doorways too
much,-that's what 's the matter."
It's none of your business, Pin White, what
I like to do," replied Sam, angrily; and as there
seemed to be every prospect of a quarrel, Ikey
interfered by saying:
,"Of course that's your own business, Sam;
but all the same, Jenny's got to have as much
money as she can raise. I 've paid all of my ten

dollars, an' it would n't be fair for me to put in
more 'n the others; but if you '11 promise before
all the fellers that you 'll give it back to me, I '11
lend you two dollars to help pay what you owe."
Sure, I '11 give it back," said Sam; "but did
you earn the whole of that to-day ? "
No; Jim Chick paid me what I lent him last
week, an' I made the rest. Now I '11 give Jenny
the money, an' you write out a paper to show that
you borrowed it."
Since the transaction required no more labor
than that involved in writing a receipt, Sam was
perfectly willing to accept the offer.
"Now you 'd better decide who. the next four
boarders shall be," said the young landlady. I
shall have another room ready by to-morrow
After some little discussion, in which Master
Tousey would have joined if the treasurer had not
insisted that he should finish his writing before he
said anything, it was decided that Jim Chick, Tom
Wilson, Fred Sawyer, and Pippy Brown should be
the fortunate boys; and Ikey promised to notify.
them early next morning.
By the time this arrangement had been made,
Sam had written his acknowledgment of the loan,
and he handed the following document to his

The day after the admission of the first regular
boarders was a busy one for Jenny as well as for
the directors. The young landlady was doing her
best, with the limited amount of money at her
disposal, to get the entire house ready for occu-
The directors, who found business in the news-
paper line very dull, owing to stormy weather,
had their time fully occupied in answering ques-
tions and making promises to those who were
eager to become Jenny's 'boarders. The enter-
prise seemed already to be an assured success, and
this prosperity was believed by the stockholders
to have been caused solely and entirely by Novem-
ber's presence in the house. Ikey, who had at one
time favored the purchase of a monkey as an at-
traction, now firmly believed that a baby answered




x887.] .'JENN.Y'S :.BOARDING-HOUSE. 451

every purpose, and that the finding. of November
was the biggest thing that could have happened
for the boarding-house."
Master Chick ard his friends set about making
preparations for changing their lodgings as soon as
they had been informed that their, new room.was
now ready for them, and all of the directors, except
Ikey, offered to assist in the work of moving. It
had been a common rumor on the street that
Dory Lyons, Jim Chick's room-mate, owned a
real.trunk; and, since public opinion was divided
as to whether the story had any. foundation in
truth, many of the boys, more :particularly 'Sam
and. Jack, were eager to settle the question for
themselves. .
It was nearly noon. Fully twenty of the small
newsdealers had accompanied Jim to the News-
boys' Lodging House; and Ikey was shivering on
the corner of Ann street, trying to dispose of two
"Heralds,"; the last of his morning's 'stock: It
was his.custom thus to brave the winter storms,
because he was the owner of an overcoat; and,
with such a protection against the snow and sleet,
he believed it to be his duty to remain out-of-doors
during every-business hour. The coat did not
exactly fit him, being so large that he wrapped it
twice around his body, and had it tied at the back
with several pieces'of-rope. But this was really
no defect in the garment, according to his way of
thinking, since he thus had a double: thickness of
cloth, and if it did nearly touch the ground, it gave
him but little inconvenience.
All at once he was startled by Jenny, who sud-
denly appeared before him.
"What is it? What made you come down
here?" he asked in astonishment, for the storm
was so severe that he wondered why.she had ven-
tured out.
"Where are the other boys? she asked, look-
ing much as if she had been crying.
Gone over to see Dory Lyons's trunk. But
what's the matter ?"
"November is very sick."
"November sick? repeated Ikey in alarm.
"Yes. You know he was n't awake when you
boys left the house; but as soon as he opened his
- eyes, Mother saw that he had some kind of a fever,
an' he 's been growing worse and worse ever since.
I 've been out nearly all the forenoon, buying
things, and have spent my money. We must
have a doctor, and I came to see if the boys had
earned anything."
"Come in here exclaimed Ikey as he darted
into a doorway; and when they were sheltered
somewhat from the storm, he said quickly, as he
turned his back upon Jenny, Untie me."
All of the treasurer's friends knew that it was

necessary for.him to have some assistance when he
put on or took off his overcoat, and. Jenny at once
began to unfasten the lacings that kept.Master
Jarvis and his coat together.: After. this had:been
done, Ikey plunged his hand into the very.bottom
of an inside pocket, drawing out two quarters and
a small collection of copper.
"Now tie me up, an'. then. you can use this
money. I '11 tell the other fellers as soon as I can
find 'em, an' we '11 have enough for you. .Had I
better let Jim Chick's crowd know that they can't
come to-night ? "
"No, don't do that. Everything is ready for
them, an' we need all we can get out of the board-
ing-house just now."
Jenny took the money and hurried away as rap-
idly as possible, while Ikey stood looking after her,
as if he almost doubted the truth of the sad news
she had brought. Before she had disappeared
from view, however, he started out to find his
brother-directors, and met them with the new
boarders and their friends coming up Fulton
street, just as. he turned down from Broadway to
go toward the ferry.
S"November is very sick Ikey cried while h1e
was yet some distance away. Jenny just came
down to get some money for a doctor,- an' I want
all the cash you can give me to carry to her."
The boys stood for several seconds in speech-
less dismay, even those who had no interest in the
boarding-house felt personally responsible for No-
vember's future welfare, and then a flood of ques-
tions was poured forth, none of which Ikey was
able to answer. He could only repeat over and
over again what Jenny had told him.
No one had even thought that any.harm could
come to the baby while he was under the care of
so many, and the news that he was ill was all the
more sad because it had been so unexpected.
Within half an hour from the time when Jenny
had first met Ikey, every newsboy knew of Novem-
ber's illness, and there were few who did not offer
to loan the directors money in case it should be
needed to purchase medicine or luxuries for the
baby. With three dollars which he had collected
from the stockholders Ikey hurried home, while
his brother-officers, their friends and acquaint-
ances, gathered in the doorways to discuss the
sad news.


THE news that November was ill had really
given Master Tousey such a shock that it was not
until several moments after Ikey had started for
home that he realized how prominent the treas-


urer was making himself in this matter, and of
how little importance he hi inrlf appeared .
S"What made Ikey Jarvis go so: quick?" he
.asked angrily of Tom. He did n't wait to hear
what we had to say about it, an' I s'pose he's goin'
to try to boss this business jest as he does every-
thing else."
I don't believe Mrs. Parsons will let him have
very much to say while November's sick," replied
Tom with a liugh; ." an' besides, I never noticed
that he fried to do that as rhuch as you." ,:
"I don't want to boss things," replied Sam,
"Whatcher try to do when you made that
rule?" asked Duddy Foss; and it was evident
from: the outburst of mirth that. he had told all
his friends and. acquaintances of Master Tousey's
Sam was: about to make 'an angry, reply, when
"Now see here, fellers, I don't feel much like
fun when November 's sick, an'. it ain't jest the
thing, 'cordin' to my way of thinking If we can't
do anything' to help him, we need n't have any
That 's what "s the matter,". said Duddy, em-
'phatically; "but I don't see how we can do any-
thing for him, 'cause we ain't- any of us doctors,
vou know." .
'"Let's 'get him a whole .bottle of medicine "
-cried Pinney, a very brilliant idea presenting itself
suddenly;. Then pointing to an advertisement of
some patent medicine that was conspicuously dis-
played upon a bill-board across the street, he
added, If we should chip in an' buy some of
that stuff, we could have him well in no time. It
won't 'mount to very much to get enough for a
baby, an', then we 'll save all the money that a
doctor costs."
The boys scrutinized the flaming advertisement
closely before venturing an opinion. Duddy Foss
even walked across the street to read the placards,
while the others, and more particularly Pinney,
waited anxiously for his report.
"'Cordin' to the way that bill reads, the medi-
cine will cure most anything," Duddy said, as he
returned to the doorway where the others were
standing sheltered from the storm.
"Does it say that it 's good for anybody that
has a fever ?" asked Pinney.
"Yes, it says that."
"Then: there 's nothing' else to do but jest give
November 'bout half a bottle of it; that oughter
be enough for a baby, ought n't it?"
"Every boy present seemed to think that half a
bottle of a compound possessing such wonderful
curative powers as this particular medicine was

advertised to contain, surely ought to be sufficient
to cure a baby.as small as November; and more
than one began to believe that. Pinney White was
more brilliant in the way of ideas than they had
previously given him the credit of being.
At this point Ikey appeared. He reported that
the physician had not yet arrived when he left the
house, and that November was very sick. The
boys at once began to explain Pinney's idea to the
treasurer; but before they had -concluded, Tom,
who believed that it was necessary as quickly as
possible to carry into effect any plan that was-de-
cided upon, said-:
"If this stuff 's what the baby oughter have,
let's get it for him right away. The bills say
the medicine will cure him, so we '11 put up for a
l.:,tte. an' Pinney an' Ikey can carry it over to the
"Better make the man say. that it will fix him
right up," said Sam, determined to distinguish
himself even at this late hour, if possible. "I '1I
go with you fellers, an' see that it's done in some
kind of shape."
Now, don't go to spoilin!.things, Sam Tousey,"
said Duddy. Ikey.an' Pinney can get it without
any help, an' the rest of us will wait here till they
come back to fell us that November 's well."
"But if it 's :goin' to curehim right up, let's
all go to the house, an' see how surprised Mrs.
Parsons an' Jenny will be; "suggested Jack.
"That 's the ticket-!" cried Tom, fairly radiant
now with-happiness, while Sam had a regular at-
tack of the sulks. "'We '11 all go up to see it
work. It can't be any harm for us to be there if
November is goin' to get well so quick.".
This was another good idea; every one agreed
to it at once. Each boy contributed sufficient to
bring the total amount.up to a dollar,.and Ikey and
Pinney set out to make the purchase.
The messengers were so eager, to relieve Mrs.
Parsons and Jenny from all anxiety, by restoring
the baby. to health, that it hardly seemed as if
they could have gone around the' corner on their
way to the drug store, when they returned with
the invaluable remedy in their possession.
The boys started at once, with the treasurer and
Pinney leading the way, while Sam brought up
the rear.
It was hardly more than five minutes from the
time they had purchased the wonderful medicine,
when Mrs. Parsons, who was sitting near the fire
with the baby in her arms, was unpleasantly sur-
prised by seeing fourteen boys troop into the room,
each one bringing on his garments and feet a quan-
tity of snow, and admitting the wintry blast in all
its violence through the open door.
Mercy on- us cried the old lady, as she



-s p..


hastily drew the blanket over the baby's head.
" Will you boys never have common sense ? It is
as much as this child's life is worth to have that
door opened on him so long, and all this snow
brought into the room. Jenny! she called to
the landlady, who was at work in the kitchen,
"bring the broom, and sweep this floor clean,
quick! "
This was not exactly the kind of reception the
boys had expected to receive when they were
intending to do so much good, and some of the

ing to remove from the bottle; and while the
others could see that the old lady was growing
angry, he was blissfully ignorant of the fact.
I guess I would n't make him take more 'n a
cupful to begin with, an' if that don't fix him right
up, we can pour in some more," Pinney said as he
succeeded in his efforts. "You give it to him now,
an' we '11 watch to see how it works."
"Pinney White!" exclaimed Mrs. Parsons as
she pushed the bottle aside, holding her hand
over November's face much as if she was afraid


party moved toward the door as if about to make
their retreat; but they stopped as Pinney began
to explain the purpose of their visit.
We 've come to fix November up in no time,"
the projector of the scheme said, as he hastily
removed the wrappings from the bottle. "Here's
some stuff that '11 cure everybody, no matter what's
the trouble with 'em, an' all you've got to do is jest
to give November as much as he '11 hold. We all
paid our share toward buyin' it, an' if this ain't
enough, we '11 get as much as he needs."
In his eagerness to make these explanations
before Jenny should drive them out of the room,
in order that she might sweep the floor, Pinney
had not even glanced at Mrs. Parsons, or he might
have hesitated before saying anything more But
he was gazing only at the cork, which he was try-

the boys might pour the medicine down the baby's
throat by force. Will you never have any com-
mon sense? Take that stuff away this minute,
and if you must stay in the house, go into some
other room, for I will not have you all here while
this child is so sick."
But you can cure him up by givin' him this,"
persisted Pinney, as he continued to hold the bot-
tle toward the old lady.
Go right out of this room! and Mrs. Parsons
stamped her foot to give greater emphasis to her
words. "The idea of bringing patent medicine
here to give a baby who has a fever! I ought n't
to expect anything different fiom you, Pinney
White; but I should have thought -that Tom or
Ikey would have had better sense."
Pinney looked at the old lady in entire bewil-





derment. He could not understand why she re-
fused to give the baby the medicine; and he was
about to begin again, when Jenny beckoned for
him to come into the kitchen, where several of the
boys had taken refuge at the first outburst.
Here the young landlady, after considerable
trouble, convinced Master White that it would
never do to give the medicine to November; and
then Sam said, in what Pinney thought was a
very disagreeable manner, You fellers would n't
listen to me when I tried to tell you what to do;
but you all thought you knew so much that nobody
could say anything."
You did n't speak a word about not buyin' the
medicine," Tom said quickly. "You believed
jest the same as the rest of us did."
Yes, an' all you wanted to do was to boss the
job your way," said Ikey, indignantly.
Then Sam made an angry reply; one boy and
another found occasion to make some remark,
until every one was talking in his loudest tone, and
the confusion was complete. It is very probable
that neither the directors, the boarders, nor the
visitors had any idea of the noise they were mak-
.ing; but Mrs. Parsons, Jenny, and even November
.were perfectly well aware of it. The latter began
to cry loudly, and while Jenny was doing her best
to, still him, the old lady turned every boy out-of-
doors, declaring that none of them should be
allowed in the house while the baby was sick,
unle'--. th'.y could remain quiet.
It v. a not until they were on the'sidewalk that
any' o the p.rty remembered that they had gained
no jnfornlationr concerning November.
"Let 's go down town," Pinney said, nervously.
He was terribly afraid his companions might ap-
point him a committee of one to go back and ask.
questions. "What are you goin' to do with: the
medicine ? "
"Make the man give the. money back," sug-
gested Duddy, and all the others, save Pinney and
Ikey, seemed to agree.with him.
Pinney -suggested that perhaps the druggist
might have some hesitation about returning the
money, since the cork had been drawn and the
wrappers removed; but Duddy appeared to think
it a very trifling objection, for he said promptly:
That don't make any difference at all; and if
the man goes to finding' fault, pay him for the
papers an' stopper; that '11 settle it."
S'pose you go an' talk to him about it," said
Ikey, meekly.
"That would n't do, 'cause. I 'm not the feller
that bought it. You an' Pinney go on an' get the
money; we '11 wait for you on the corner of Beek-
man street."
-It was apparent that the treasurer and Pinney

were then extremely sorry that they.had not allowed
Sam to make the purchase; but regrets were un-
availing at this late hour, and. they .walked on
ahead of their companions, wishing that they had
consulted Jenny before buying the medicine.
Pinney was willing .now that Ikey should.take
charge of. the business, but the treasurer insisted
that Master White must appear as prominently in
the last transaction as he had in. the first; and
both the boys entered the store with decided re-
Pinney stated the case to the druggist, when it
was his turn to be waited upon, and he did it in
the fewest possible words:
Mister, Jenny an' her mother say as how this
is not the right thing at all to give November,-
an' Mrs. Parsons is mighty mad 'cause we bought
it,- an' we want you to give us the money back."
It was fully a minute before the druggist ap-
peared to understand what Pinney meant, and
then, as the boy held up the bottle of medicine,
he asked, Did you buy that here ? "
Of course we did! Ikey an' I got it a little
while ago, but the other fellers put in jest as much
as we did."
"I can't take it back-it has been opened,"
said the man quickly, as he turned to wait upon an
impatient customer who had just entered the store;
you had no business to buy it, if it was n't what
you wanted."
We thought it would fix the baby right up,"
persisted Pinney; 'cause the bills out here on Park
Row say it will cure anything, an' Jenny told us
that November was very sick.' We have n't used
any of it, an' we '11 pay you for the paper that was
'round it."
.. ** I cian't.sell it, now that it has been opened,"
said the druggist curtly; and then he disappeared
behind a forest of bottles.
: "I don't believe he '11 give us anything for it,"
whispered Pinney.
But, in order that his partners in the patent
medicine business might not accuse him of neg-
lecting their interests, he called loudly, just as he
and Ikey reached the door, Say, mister, will you
give us fifty cents for this stuff ?"
Get out of here cried a voice from the rear
of the store. I tell you I can't sell it, now that
it has been opened "
Pinney and Ikey were on the sidewalk before
the man had ceased speaking, and Ikey remarked
cheerfully, as they walked toward Beekman street:
"Never mind, Pinney; it did n't cost so very
much after all, an' we can give it to some beggar.
I would n't wonder if one-legged Tim would be
albout tickled to death to have it, an' "
Here, boy, do you want to earn a dollar?"



Both turned quickly, and saw, directly behind
them, a well-dressed man.
I want a boy to do an errand for me," said the
"You hold the medicine, an' I '11 do the job,"
Pinney said to Ikey, in a low tone. If I can earn a
dollar, we '11 give back to the fellers what money
they put in for the stuff, an' then they won't feel
Ikey took the bottle and left Pinney to attend to
the business, saying, as he did so :
"We '11 wait for you up on Beekman street."
"What is it you want me to do?" Pinney
"`You are to take this package to the corner of
Wall street and Broadway," said the man, speak-
ing in a low tone, and looking around as if he were
afraid of being overheard. You will find a gen-
tleman waiting there, and you are to ask him if
his name is Parker.. If he says it is, tell him that
you have brought the papers, but that you must
have what he promised to give before you can
deliver them. If he hands you a parcel, let him
have this, and bring me what he gives you. Can
you remember all that?"
Of course I can," replied Pinney, promptly,
and he repeated the directions he had received,
concluding by saying, "But when do I get the
dollar ?"
"When you come back."
Master White started down the street at full
speed, thinking that the man was very foolish to
pay so much money for so trifling a service, and
congratulating himself that he had been the mes-
senger selected. He felt that since he had pro-
posed the purchase of the medicine, it was his
duty to refund the money his friends had con-
tributed, and this opportunity to earn a dollar

seemed to be a remarkable and happy piece of
good fortune.
When Ikeyjoined the rest of the boys, there was
no slight amount of disappointment visible on their
faces when they saw that he still had the bottle.
"That 's jest the way Pin White allers does
things," Sam said, before Ikey could explain mat-
ters. He had n't any more sense than to buy
the stuff, an' after he 's made us put in our money
for it, he sneaks off so 's we can't blow him up."
"He did n't sneak a bit," replied Ikey, sharply.
" He 's got a chance to earn a dollar, an' he 's
gone to get it so 's he can give each feller back
what he put in. You're allers ready, Sam Tousey,
to kick up a fuss, an' you think you 're the only
one that knows everything. Pinney's goin' to do
more than the square thing when he pays for the
medicine himself."
"He shan't do. that," said Duddy. "Every
feller put in the money for the baby, an' Pinney's
got no business to lose any more 'n his share."
Every one, save Sam and Jack, agreed with
Duddy. Master Tousey insisted so strongly that
it was no more than just for Pinney to refund the
money, that quite a heated discussion ensued, and
it was at its height when Duddy cried out loudly
as he pointed to the opposite side of the street:
"Look there! What's the matter with Pinney
The argument ceased very suddenly, as the
boys, gazing in the direction designated by Duddy,
saw poor Pinney being marched along in the
grasp of two policemen, as if he had committed
some terrible crime.
Come on, fellers; let's find out what 's up "
shouted Master Foss, as he started after the offi-
cers and their prisoner, and, in a few seconds, all
the small newsdealers were in full pursuit.

(To be continued.)



ALL in the early morning hours ,
I walked through blooming garden bowers,
Where purple pinks and pansies grew,
And roses sparkled in the dew.

They were sb lovely in my sight,
I plucked the red ones and the white,
And with full hands I wandered down
Until I reached the busy town.

Then round me, like a swarm of bees,
Came ragged children, crying Please !
Oh, please give me a flower "- And so
I had to let my treasures go.

I gave them, every one, away;
But somehow all the long, warm day,
Those flowers seemed just as sweet and bright
As if they still were in my sight.






S ou would hardly believe it,
I'm sure,-
I can scarcely believe it my-
That a person so dreadfully
Such a shockingly ignorant
S Should be' the Chief Ruler
of Quelf.

But, you see, on that won-
derful strand
Which is known as the Island of Quelf,
The man who can least understand
The importance of ruling the land
Is elected the Ruler himself.

For the people of Quelf have a way
Of looking most oddly at things.
To-morrow is there yesterday;
July comes a month before May;
And a baby in pain always sings.

The houses are built upside down,
Which, they say, saves a climbing of stairs;
The most brilliant color is brown;
There is n't a schoolhouse in town;
And conductors refuse to take fares.

When a burglar is caught stealing plate,
The inhabitants give hifm a purse;
For they argue his needs must be great,
Or he would n't be working so late,-
And their argument well might be worse.

Where is Ouelf? "-What a question to ask !
Don't you know that the Island of Quelf
Lies about north by south'from Alask-
But why should I save you the task ?
No, you really must find it yourself.


THE falcon is one of the strongest birds for
its size, as well as one of the swiftest fliers.
A hungry falcon has been known to pursue a
carrier-pigeon that was hurrying home with dis-
patches at the rate of a hundred and fifty miles an
hour, and catch it and dine on it without stopping
to read the message.
The heron is almost all wings, except its legs
and its neck and its beak, which don't weigh
much, anyhow; and so, though it is a much bigger
bird than the falcon, it prefers flight to fight
whenever a falcon happens to come around. As
the heron is tall in so many different directions, it
finds difficulty in concealing its body in places
where the falcon can not follow it; and as the
falcon's method of seizing its prey is by swooping
down upon it, the heron usually seeks to escape
by keeping above the falcon; for so long as it can
remain higher up, it is safe.

It is very exciting to watch a long white heron
climbing up, up, in the air in narrow spirals, pur-
sued by a compact, dark falcon, rising by sheer
force of muscular power, and in much larger
spirals, higher and higher until both birds are
almost out of sight.
Then, all at once, the smaller one is seen to
have passed the other. It drops upon its prey,
grasping it with its strong talons- and killing it.
-In olden times, kings and queens, nobles of
high degree, gentry, priests and peasants thought
no sport more entertaining than this;. and falcons
were caught and trained to chase some particular
kind of game.
Falcons were usually released at the. end of the
hunting season, so they rarely grew: very tame;
and they were generally held by a leather leash
fastened to each leg by a. strap, called a jess :as is
shown in the illustration on-the next.page.







S ou would hardly believe it,
I'm sure,-
I can scarcely believe it my-
That a person so dreadfully
Such a shockingly ignorant
S Should be' the Chief Ruler
of Quelf.

But, you see, on that won-
derful strand
Which is known as the Island of Quelf,
The man who can least understand
The importance of ruling the land
Is elected the Ruler himself.

For the people of Quelf have a way
Of looking most oddly at things.
To-morrow is there yesterday;
July comes a month before May;
And a baby in pain always sings.

The houses are built upside down,
Which, they say, saves a climbing of stairs;
The most brilliant color is brown;
There is n't a schoolhouse in town;
And conductors refuse to take fares.

When a burglar is caught stealing plate,
The inhabitants give hifm a purse;
For they argue his needs must be great,
Or he would n't be working so late,-
And their argument well might be worse.

Where is Ouelf? "-What a question to ask !
Don't you know that the Island of Quelf
Lies about north by south'from Alask-
But why should I save you the task ?
No, you really must find it yourself.


THE falcon is one of the strongest birds for
its size, as well as one of the swiftest fliers.
A hungry falcon has been known to pursue a
carrier-pigeon that was hurrying home with dis-
patches at the rate of a hundred and fifty miles an
hour, and catch it and dine on it without stopping
to read the message.
The heron is almost all wings, except its legs
and its neck and its beak, which don't weigh
much, anyhow; and so, though it is a much bigger
bird than the falcon, it prefers flight to fight
whenever a falcon happens to come around. As
the heron is tall in so many different directions, it
finds difficulty in concealing its body in places
where the falcon can not follow it; and as the
falcon's method of seizing its prey is by swooping
down upon it, the heron usually seeks to escape
by keeping above the falcon; for so long as it can
remain higher up, it is safe.

It is very exciting to watch a long white heron
climbing up, up, in the air in narrow spirals, pur-
sued by a compact, dark falcon, rising by sheer
force of muscular power, and in much larger
spirals, higher and higher until both birds are
almost out of sight.
Then, all at once, the smaller one is seen to
have passed the other. It drops upon its prey,
grasping it with its strong talons- and killing it.
-In olden times, kings and queens, nobles of
high degree, gentry, priests and peasants thought
no sport more entertaining than this;. and falcons
were caught and trained to chase some particular
kind of game.
Falcons were usually released at the. end of the
hunting season, so they rarely grew: very tame;
and they were generally held by a leather leash
fastened to each leg by a. strap, called a jess :as is
shown in the illustration on-the next.page.






. r




Ps' 11 1

ii~ I

:- J


-- ---- Zr-,-- -



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-ziii 14r

i- ~ -r I

S -




I '


5:' II

._ - -- _


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


---- --~---

m_ _

- --




I?, Ir

i' Ij


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'I') I





Author of the "Land of Nod," and "Comediesfor Children."

[THIS Operetta aims to voice the rebellion of the children against
the tyranny of the Sultan of Sulkydom, a grim and gruffold despot,
who sometimes worries even the best of children. It calls for a
large number of performers to assist in the choruses, although the
speaking characters are not numerous. No change of scene is nec-
essary, and the stage equipment need not be elaborate. The details
demanding special attention, besides the careful training of the speak-
ing characters and the choruses,-a matter of great importance,- are
the costumes, the marches, and the arrangement of the "change of
heads," explained at the close.]


THE SULTAN OF SULKYDOM.- A gruff and glum old tyrant who
delights in making children sulky.
THE GkAND VIZIER.-The Sultan's Prime Minister and chiefadviser.
WON'T PACHA, The Sultan's Cabinet.
THADDEUS THURSDAY, The Juvenile Seven.
THE FAIRY HOPEFUL.- Friend to the Children.
LITTLE I 'LL TRY.- The Children's Herald and Standard-Bearer.
DICK, Leaders of the chorus of children.

[The size of the Choruses must, of course, depend upon the ma-
terial at hand. There should be at least seven fairies, seven slaves,
and fifteen children, boys and girls.]

THE SULTAN AND THE VIZIER should be "big" boys of sixteen
oreighteen. Each should wear full Turkish costume, but these should
differ in color and make-up, so that the change at the end can be
readily apparent. The Sultan should have a bushy gray beard and
fierce turned-up mustachios, and should wear the green turban and
THE Two PACHAS AND THE CALIPH should be boys of fifteen to
seventeen, in Turkish costumes, wearing fezzes instead of turbans.
THE JUVENILE SEVEN should be children from eight to twelve,
dressed in suits and dress of golden armor, as pretty, as glittering,
and as correct (historically) as the costumer's art or the facilities of
the managers can devise. Over this suit they should wear, at first,
longulsters or Newmarkets, and on their heads, Tam o' Shahters"
or polo caps.
I 'LL TRY should have a suit of armor of gold or silver, or half
and half. (These costumes will not be found difficult if a little taste
or ingenuity is exercised.) He should be aboy of about ten or twelve.
THE FAIRY HOPEFUL-a girl of twelve or fourteen-and her at-
tendant sprites should be in white tarlatan, with the regulation wings,
tinsel, etc. HOPEFUL can be a trifle more elaborate than the rest,
and should have a wand.
THE SULTAN'S SLAVES-strong boys of ten or twelve-should be
in black tights, with white trunks; with black masks or blackened
faces, and large brass ornaments in ears and on arms and ankles.
THE CHORUS OF CHILDREN.- In neat and pretty modern dresses,
to add color and variety to the scene. DICK and DOLLY should be
children of eight or ten.





Allegro con Sfiriio.

INTRODUCTION. cresc..............

-00 11, go~j


3At-r .E

* r. '

Aq- -1C i

(T7he Children's Chorus troops in, singing with spirit.)

Children mer ry; children glad ; children sor ry;

children sad; Children gay and children tear- ful;


Childrenglum and children cheerful; LoLi oi love ,"UL
,1 --, ,- 1_ f '' ,

lots of strife-This makes up the children's life.

Lots of love with lots of strife- This makes up the

p --.- .... r-
-a.-_E---. -- _--. -'-- -- -


children's life; The children's life,the children's life.


DICK. Oh, we could be always jolly!
DOLLY. If 't were not for melancholy;
DICK. Life would be with laughter laden
For each little man and maiden;
DOLLY. Life would be with pleasure bulky
If we were not sometimes sulky!
CHORUS. But, dear me really, we
Can't keep off the sulks, you see !


v. !I ^ r i 1 -


- I

8 I

, I I I

rt I h I L I k.


CHORUS. For, when childhood's sun ,. *hroud.ed,
Then the clldre.'s life is clouded.
So, dear me really, we
Can't keep off the sulks, you see! .
(Repeat first and second chorus.)
DICK. But why can't we always be jolly and gay?
DOLLY. Why can't we ? Why can't we ?
ALL (appealing to audience). Do tell us, we pray !
It 's a riddle-me-ro, and it bothers us so
To think that no answer is.given;
That we turn us about, with a mystified shout,
To the Jolly and Juvenile Seven.
[Enter the Juvenile Seven. They advance, seven abreast, down
center to footlights, ulsters on and carpet-bags in hand. They
bow i) audence, and speak in turn.
MONDAY. I 'm Marjorie Monday;
TUESDAY. Timothy Tuesday;
WEDNESDAY. Winifred Wednesday,-gay;
THURSDAY. I 'm Thaddeus Thursday;
FRIDAY. Flora Belle Friday;
SATURDAY. And Solomon Saturday.
SUNDAY. Ard I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, O,
So good if I have my way!
THE SEVEN (in.chorus).'
And so are we al], and so are we all.-
So good, if we have our way !
MONDAY. They say I am fair of face;
TUESDAY. They say I am full of grace;
WEDNESDAY. 'They say I am merry and glad;
THURSDAY. They say I am sour and sad;
FRIDAY. They say I am loving and giving;
SATURDAY; They say I must work for my living;
SUNDAY. And, because I was born on a Sabbath-
They say I am bonny and good and gay.
THE GHILDkEN:(critically). But you 'r not always so.
TTHr SEVIEN (sadly). Oh, no; oh, no!
DICK. For sometimes you 're sad -
DoLLY. Anid'sometimes you 're bad.
THE SEVEN penitentlyy).
And sometimes we 're naughty, too.
DICK AND DOLLY. Then our riddle-me-re,
You can't answer, we see.
So-what are you going to do ?
MONDAY. Oh, that 's why we 've got our ulsters on;
For we '11 travel the wide .world o'er -
TUESDAY. Over sea and land, till we understand
WEDNESDAY. The secret of sorrow sore.
THURSDAY. Over land and sea shall our journey be,
FiUDAY. Until we discover why'
SATURDAY. The children's day is not always gay,
SUNDAY. And why we must pout and cry.
[Enter FAIRY HOPEFUL and train.
HOPEFUL. Why- don't you know ?
THE CHILDREN. Good gracious, though!
DICK AND DOLLY. Now pray, ma'am, who are you?
HOPEFUL. I 'm a fairy bright,
And I 'm Hopeful- quite,
'By name and by nature, too!
[HOPEFUL stands center. Children gather around her.

SIn the far-off East-so 't is told to me-
Where the : un getr up from his bed in the sea,
SThere lives an old tyrant, all bearded and brown,
Who delights to make children fume, fret, fuss, and
From his palace so grim all your grievances come -
He 's the cruel old Sultan of Sulkydom.-
When the murky morning-is dull and gray,
He summons his court; and he hurries away
To the dear little children asleep in their beds.
And he twitches their toes and he tousles their heads
(Till, slowly from Sleepyland, worried they come)
Does this horrid-old Sultan of sulkd.:,r d..
And he glues up each eye, and he sews up each ear,
Till they can't see to dress, nor the breakfast-bell hear.
But woe to the boy, or the girl- so they say-
Who gets out of bed backwards at dawning of day!
For, from sunrise to dark, they are under the thumb
Of th;s crafty old Sultan of Sulkydom.
DIicia Oh, the cruel East-wind, blowing o'er the sea,
bearS this wicked tyrant straight to you and me;
Straight to you and me, dear, do his torments come.
Save us, Fairy Hopeful, from this Sultan of Sulkydom!
HOPEFUL. In the olden days, in their robes arrayed,
Did the hermit and priest preach the great crusade;
And the Eastern lands felt the *trenrgth and might
O(f he t ilI'1ii' g btla.de of each nmall.d I.ri .nglit.
But never did heathen mn.:re hateful bet.come
Than this wicked old Sultan of Sulkydom.
So I preach to the children a new crusade,-
A battle for each little man and maid.
Who will arm for the fray? And with sword and with
Who will make this old autocrat tremble and yield ?
He will quiver and quake when the children come -
He 's a craven old Sultan of Sulkydom.
DICK. 0, the sulky old Sultan! The horrid old man!
Lead us on Let us march! Just as quick as we can!
Down, down with the tyrant Too long has he thriven.
Who '11 lead ts ?
THE SEVEN (stepping boldly and-solidly,to the front).
The Jolly and Juvenile Seven!
THE CHILDREN. Oh, will you, though?
THE SEVEN. Oh, won't we, though!
And we 'll see the quietus' given
To this Sultan bold, aihd this tyrant old-
THE CHILDREN. Hurrah for the Juvenile Seven!
MONDAY. And that's why we've our ulsters on;
TUESDAY. For we '11 travel the wide world o'er-
WEDNESDAY; Over sea aid land, till at last we stand
THURSDAY. At the Sultan of Sulkydom's door.
FRIDAY. Over land ard sea shall our journey be,
SATURDAY. By nothing on earth dismayed,
SUNDAY. Till this Sultan dread bows his hoary liead-
THE SEVEN (majestically).
To the glorious Children's Crusade!
HOPEFUL. But not in that dress must ye onward press,
To conquer this tyrant strong.




Oh, 't would be absurd, for whoever heard
Of crusaders in ulsters long ?
So stand ye out, oh, Seven so'stout!
My clever, courageous crew,
By my magic aid be ye now arrayed
In armor all gleaming and new !
[She waves her wand; the ulcers are thrown off, and disclose the
SEVEN in suits of gleaming armor. Seven fairies trip in, each
with helmet, sword, and shield for the seven champions.
HOPEFUL. Thus, with sword and shield
Shall ye go afield,
To vanquish the Sultan bad.
Be each maid of mark a Joan of Arc,
And each boy a Galahad!
DICK (looking at the Seven in admiration).
My, are n't they fine Oh, how they shine !
We all repine for clothes'like those.
DOLLY. They glimmer and gleam till they really look
As if they 'd stepped out of a picture-book.
[The Seven advance, all abreast, to footlights, and speak in turn as
on p. 458.
MONDAY. I'm Marjorie Monday; etc., etc.
SUNDAY. And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, O,
And down with the Sultan, I say!
THE SEVEN. And so do we all! And so do we all!
Down, down with the Sultan, we say!
CHORUS OF FAIRIES. Dancing, glancing,
All entrancing,
Bright and sprightly, children run.
Beaming, streaming, glory-gleaming,
Rare and fair with joy and fun.
Yours the victory if ye say,
"Do and Dare shall win the day! "
THE SEVEN. But who will bear our banner fair,
Our glorious standard of Right ?
Who will carry the flag,
Lest our courage lag,-
And flutter it-free in our sight?
[Enter little I 'LL TRY, with the Children's Standard a golden
banner with a crimson star.
I'LL. TRY. Oh, let me bear your banner bright,
As it floats o'er your brave array;
Oh, let me lead, as you onward speed
'Gainst the Sultan so grim and gray.
Oh, from head to heel, I '11 be true as steel
To each little man and maid.
SMy name is I '11 Try, and my flag shall fly
SAt the head of the Children's Crusade!
[If practicable, a simple arid pretty drilfof the SEVEN and their stand-
ard-bearer could be given here with charming effect, followed
by the Chorus of Children and Fairies.
Over the mountain, and over the lea,
And over the -boundin'gocean,
By ford, by fountain, and billowy sea,
The children are all in motion.
March, march, on we go,
Gleaming in bright array;
March, march, toward our foe,
The Sultan so grim and gray.
Then, sing we, ho! and sing we, hey !
Look out! for the children come,
Marching undismayed, on their great crusade,
'Gainst the Sultan of Sulkydom!

[They are about to march off, right, when at left, behind scefies,
a bugle sounds, and the voice of the GRAND VIZIER is heard
calling loudly.
VIZIER. Ho! Room for the Sultan of Sulkydom!
THE CHILDREN (stopping short in march and wheeling
around to left). Who calls with such might and main ?
HOPEFUL. Why, much I fear, 't is the Grand Vizier,
And the Sultan of Sulkydom's train.
[The fairies exit, right, and the children mass themselves at right,
with the Seven and standard-bearer central as the GRAND VIZIER
enters, left, preceded by trumpeter and followed by two slaves.
GRAND VIZIER (pompously).
Ho! Room for the Sultan of Sulkydom!
And room for his Grand Vizier,
By mountain and fountain and dale we come,
To bother the children dear.
To vex and perplex them with fret and fear,
Over river and sea we come.
Then ho! stand clear, for the Grand Vizier,
And- the Sultan of Sulkydom! *
[Enter now, the SULTAN OF SULKYDOM seated cross-legged on a
crimson divan (on wheels), drawn by six slaves. He is pre-
ceded .by his standard-bearer (with crimson standard and gold
crescent), with slaves bearing great fans at either hand. His
page stands by his side, and his cabinet follows his divan;
Chorus of Slaves and Ministers as the car enters. It stops cen-
tral, rear, and the slaves and ministers divide to left, opposite
the children.
Hey hey out of the way,
All that is pleasant and fair !
Steer clear, far from us here,
Happiness, precious and rare!
Now now, low as we bow,
Down' to our master so glum !
[They all salaam low.
Quail wail; loudly we hail
The Sultan of Sulkydom!

I -r

* The slaves prostrate themselves.



man; 'Tis my re gu lar sport to leave them in tears, I'm the Sul- tan of Sul ky-
glum, Your salaams give in greeting to the Don't Pach a, And the Cal iph of Out of

;- -

dom! I'm the Sul-tan! I'm the Sul- tan! I'm the
Sorts! I'm the Sul-tan! I'm the Sul-tan! I'm the
summon my court, And do all the mischief I
children's mass-meeting* From the Sultan of Sul ky-


Sul-tan of Sul- ky doin!
_a_ Sul- tan of Sul-ky- [OIT ....... dom

can, And do all the mis-chief I
dom t Come.. hith er my cab-inet

3, "U- 0r -, a -

-I SULTAN. But, highty-tighty and gracious me !
What are all these youngsters about ?
And why are they here? Oh, Grand Vizier,
Do their mothers know they 're out ?
VIZIER. The children to-day, 0 Sultan gray !
Are not:easily overcome.
S--- SULTAN. Then, fret them awhile in the usual style
can, my boys, Till the chil-dren all cranky be-Of the Sultan of Sulkydom
tried and true, Be ye known to the chil dren's [The SEVEN march, all abreast, from right to center, then front-face
S .--. .-- and march to footlights, salute audience, and wheelingaround,
face the SULTAN, speakingin turn as before.
.. MONDAY. I 'm Marjorie Monday; etc., etc.
S ''-__. _SUNDAY. And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, O.
And I 'm going to have my say !
I THE SEVEN. And so are we all,--and so are we all
Just going to have our say!
SULTAN (rising, much disturbed).
-Why highty-tighty gracious me!
They 're going to have their say!
come, Then rfe ir fears, and VIZIER. That 's nothing new; they always do -
thoughts, Here is Won't Pach- a, here is The boys and girls to-day!
SULTAN. But I never wras faced in'a way so queer;
I don't like it at all. 0 Grand Vizier,
g3 -- Do you really think these youngsters would come
STo threaten the Sultan of Sulkydom ?
-- -VIZIER. 'T is very likely, 0 Sultan gray;
------- For the boys ah, yes, and the girls of to-day,
S Will tackle the awkwardest task.
The Slaves salaam derisively to Children. t The Cabinet salaam to SULTAN.
B Each Minister salaams to Children derisively, as introduced.


They are not afraid of a single thing;
They say that a cat can look at a king;
And they 're not at all backward to ask.
Hark hark children are forming !
Hark! hark children are swarming !
Marching in bright array.
Tired so tired- of sulking and sighing;
Tired so tired of pouting and crying;
Bound to be merry and gay.
Hark to us hear to us !
Sultan, give ear to us !
Facing thee, boldly we come.
Shout it in air: down with dull care
And the Sultan of Sulkydom !
[The Herald, I 'LL TRY, here advances from before the SEVEN to the
SULTAN'S divan, and, supporting himself with the standard,
I 'LLTRY. I am Herald for the Children,
To thee they bid me come;
Now, yield thee, yield thee prisoner,
O Sultan of Sulkydom :
The Children gay, in brave array,
Here to thy face have come.
Surrender ye! surrender ye !
0 Powers of Sulkydom!
SULTAN (with braggadocio).
Ho Joke most rare! These children dare
In arms to face us here !
Surrender? Ho! Surrender? No!
What say you, Grand Vizier ?
VIZIER. It seems to me
CABINET AND SLAVES. And it seems to us all --
VIZIER. We should treat their demand with scorn.
If we yield up. you, what is left us to do ?
Our occupation 's gone !

If we yield up you, what is left us to do ?
Our occupation 's gone!
[Here the Cabinet -the two pachas and the caliph--approach the
children in a threatening, but inquisitive, manner. They look
at the children critically.
THE CABINET. Oh, let us inspect them, Sultan gray;
Let us look these children o'er;
For, we 're able yes yes and we 're ready to say,
We have seen all these youngsters before.
WON'T PACHA.* For some of them flout,
And some of them pout,
And some of them grumble and growl.
DON'T PACHA. And all, we may say,
When they can't have their way,
Just stamp on the floor and howl.
OUT-OF-SORTS. Our slaves, then, are they !
Let us lead them away,
Though their tears flow in pints and quarts -
WON'T. The Pacha of Won't;
DoN'T. The Pacha of Don't;
OUT-OF-SORTS. And the Caliph of Out-of-Sorts !
[They advance toward the children, who exclaim, hastily, but very

VOL. XIV.-32.

Oh, no; you are wrong; you are certainly wrong!
You 've just made that up in your thoughts.
For we'never say "Won't! "
And we never say "Don't! "
And we never are out of sorts !
THE CABINET (accusingly, i the SEVEN).
And as for this Jolly and Juvenile Seven,
To them too much credit has always been given.
WON'T. For Monday is proud of her fair young face,
DON'T. And Tuesday talks loud of his style and grace,
And Wednesday can cry, though she's merry and glad,
And Thursday ? Why, Thursday issour and sad;
Miss Friday boasts much of her loving and giving,
And Saturday never will work for his living;
While as for Miss Sunday, so bonny and gay,
She only is so--when she has her own way!
I 'LL TRY (hopefully).
But they've made me the Captain in this Crusade,
And I 've pledged every boy, and I 've pledged every
That hereafter, they '11 try to be happy and bright,
Obliging and pleasant and nice and polite.
They '11 try it, I know, every lassie and lad;
Only thus can they conquer this Sultan so bad.
And strong in this spirit to rout you they 've come;
So yield to them, Sultan of Sulkydom !

[The SEVEN rally around their Standard-bearer, and face the SOL-
TAN defiantly, while the ministers and slaves draw closely around
their master. The SEVEN assume a spirited attitude, and speak
in turn.

MONDAY. I 'm Marjorie Monday; etc., etc.
SUNDAY. And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, 0,
So yield to us, Sultan gray !
THE SEVEN. And so say we all! and so say we all!
Yield, yield to us, Sultan gray !
nus). Well, it's ha, ha,-ha, and it's ho, ho, ho!
We never, never, never saw the like of that!
Here these children small on the Sultan call,
Demanding his surrender very sharp and
S flat!
So, it's ha, ha, ha, and it's ho, ho, ho!
It excites our risibilities to see them come;
Though they beg for it, we '11 not yield a bit-
We're the Sultan and the Cabinet of Sulky-
dom !
THE SEVEN (wheeling around and facing the children).
Then all hands 'round, here, children all;
Let your noisiest song be given,
As ye dance in sport 'round the Sultan's Court,
For the Jolly and Juvenile Seven !

[Here the children join hands in a merry-go-round, encircling the
SULTAN and his train, if the chorus is large enough, while the
SEVEN march and countermarch before the enemy. The SULTAN
and ministry draw together in evident distrust and dislike of all
this fun and frolic.

*Pronounced Pa-shak.



CHILDREN'S CHORUS (for the "allhands'round").'
'Round, 'round, here we.go 'round;'
Hark to our roundelay!
Sing, sing, joyfully sing,
Merry and cheery and gay !
Run, run, laughter and fun
Drive away trouble and care !
'Round, 'round, here we go 'round,
Singing our liveliest air !
So, so, jolly we go,
All hands around we come !
Pooh! Pooh! Who cares for you -
[Snapping their fingers in his face.
Sultan of Sulkydom ?
[The SULTAN and ministry, distracted at the noise and romp, lift their
hands in horror and protestation, and the SULTAN advances
Oh, stop it; pray, stop it! I'm dazzled and
With your romp and your riot and rout;
I 'm flustered and flurried and dizzy and dumb.
Say,- what are you youngsters about ?
I don't like to see children so jolly and blithe;
I would rather you 'd grumble and pout.
Oh, you '11 have me quite dazed
And speedily crazed
With your gallop and glitter and shout!
Yes; you '11 have us all dazed
And speedily crazed
With your gallop and glitter and shout !
[The SEVEN, turning to the children, say, joyfully in turn:
MONDAY. Oh, pleasure and play
TUESDAY. And laughter gay
Send the blues to the right-about !
WEDNESDAY. And the sulks they flee
THURSDAY. From the sound of glee,
And a smile will conquer a pout.
FRIDAY. Then, Hey Away!
SATURDAY. With our chorus gay
Once more to the charge we come!
For all dismayed by our bright crusade
Is the Sultan of Sulkydom!
[Here the Chorus of Children, joining hands again, repeat the evo-
lutions and song of the "All Hands 'Round" chorus. The
SULTAN and his train stand it as long as they can, and, at the last,
stuffing their fingers or their robes into their ears, they break
through the ring ofchildren, and rush off the stage right. The
children dash after them, dragging the SULTAN'S divan, followed
by the Standard-bearer. The SEVEN wave their swords victori-
ously, and advance, all abreast, to footlights, and speak in turn.
MONDAY. I 'm Marjorie Monday; etc., etc.
SUNDAY. And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, 0,
And we 've routed the Sultan gray !
FTHE SEVEN. And so say we all,- and so say we all -
We 've routed the Sultan gray !

[The Children cheer, outside.
THE SEVEN. What means that shout ?
I 'LL TRY (rushing in with standard).
We 've completed the rout
Of the Sultan so grim and glum;
And we beg to report -
[The Children all troop in, shouting.
CHILDREN. Hey! We 've captured the court
And the Sultan of Sulkydom !
THE SEVEN (severely).
SThen we wish it distinctly stated
That this Sultan here,
And his Grand Vizier,
Must both be decapitated'!
DOLLY (puzzled). Oh, what 's that you said ?
THE SEVEN. Why- Off with his head !
I 'LL TRY. Then, off both their heads must come !
DICK (vociferously, as the children troop off-right).
And thus will we close all our worries and woes
From the, Sultan of Sulkydom.
[Exit all, right. Enter, left, after a bar of light music has been played,
FAIRY HOPEFUL and her train, singing.
Lightly tripping, brightly skipping,
Tripping, skipping, lightly tripping,
O'er the flowery plain.
Flying hither, flying thither,
Come we all again.
Come we all with anxious yearning,
For each man and maid,
Yearning for their home returning,
From their great crusade.
Hark! the fairy messengers,- Midget, sprite, and bee,-
Whisper, soon the fairies all shall the children see !
Sisters, lift our welcome-song; raise the joyous strain,
Clear and fair on radiant air,- welcome home again !
Gay we greet the restless feet;
Sound the music clear!
Ring, ye bells, with joyous swells;
Sound the music clear !
Welcome! Welcome!
Welcome, children, dear!
CHILDIEN (heard without). Here we come!
FAIRIES (listening). Here they come !
ALL. Sound the music clear!
CHILDREN (without). Here we come.
FAIRIES (listening). Here they come.
Welcome, children dear!
CHILDREN (at hand). Here we come.
FAIRIES (in welcome). Here they come.
ALL. Sound the music clear !
[Enter the SEVEN,- preceded by Standard-bearer. They advance
as usual, all abreast, to the footlights, salute, and say:
MONDAY. I 'm Marjorie Monday; etc., etc.
SUNDAY. And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, 0,
And I think we have won the day !
And so say we all and so say we all -
We think we have won the day !




[Here the children troopin, dragging in their midst the SULTAN'S
divan. On this divan a dais has been raised, on which rest the
heads of the SULTAN and GRAND VIZIER (for construction, see
note at end of operetta); after it, follows the train of the SULTAN
in chains. As the children come in, they sing with spirit the
Victory Chorus. -
Victory victory Our shouts rinj loud and high.
Victory! victory Oh, free let our banner fly.
Victory! victory! Joyous and undismayed.
Victory! victory! Crowned is the children's crusade!
Hurrah, hurrah for our glorious'gains !
We are bringing the sulky court in chains!
Hurrah, hurrah, for the children come,
With the head of the Sultan of Sulkydom !
[The car is left in the center, with the prisoners and children grouped
around it, left and right. In front, left, the SEVEN and their
Standard-bearer; right, the FAIRY HOPEFUL and train.
HOPEFUL (approaching the heads).
O head of the Sultan of Sulkydom,
And head of the Grand Vizier!
What have you to say, ere you're dragged away
By these valorous children here ?
I 'm the head of the Sultan of Sulkydom !
I 'm the head of the Grand Vizier !
BOTH (in slow and solemn unison).
But we 'd feel more inclined to speak our mind,
If our bodies were only here.
To be heads without bodies, we 'd have you know,
Is a most discouraging bore.
We '11 be awfully good, and we '11 never be rude,
If you '11 give us our bodies once more.
HOPEFUL. 0 head of the Sultan of Sulkydom,
And head of the Grand Vizier,-
I think, perhaps, you 've been punished enough,
By your body-less presence here.
If I give you your bodies back again,
Will you promise the children dear,
Not to worry them more, with your torments sore -
0 Sultan and Grand Vizier ?
THE HEADS (solemnly, but decidedly).
We would promise itfree, on bended knee,
If we had any knees to bend!
_We would promise our part, with hand on heart,
If we 'd hand or heart to lend!
No more will we scoff, if you '11 let us off,
And the children from worry we '11 save.
This we promise as well as our tongues can tell;
They are all that we happen to have!
Well, what do you say, crusaders small,
Can they have back their bodies for good and all?
CHILDREN. Oh, yes, if they '11 do as they say.
If they '11 leave us in peace, why, we don't care a red
What the Sultan of Sulkydom does with his head,
CHILDREN. Or his body so grim and gray!
HOPEFUL (waving her wand).
By my fairy art, which can join and part,
0 bodies, I bid you come
To the lone heads here of the Grand Vizier
And the Sultan of Sulkydom !

[The dais falls apart, and the SULTAN and the GRAND VIZIER step
down. They salaam to HOPEFUL and to the children. Then
they look at each other--start in surprise and dismay, and say,
greatly agitated, to the fairy:
SULTAN. Oh, here's a mistake!
VIZIER. Here 's a dreadful mistake!
BOTH. You have certainly muddled your mercy.
SULTAN. There 's the Grand Vizier's head
On my body instead.
VIZIER. And the Sultan's is vice versa!

[The children crowd in wonder at this singular change of bodies.
DICK. O, which is which, and who is who?
It is really a puzzle most queer.
DOLLY. Now, which is the Sultan of Sulkydom ?
And which is the Grand Vizier?
Well, they 've mixed and bothered the children so
That to this at last have they come;
And 't will never be clear, which is Grand Vizier,
And which Sultan of Sulkydom.
[To the puzzled pair.
But your bodies can order your heads around,
And your heads your bodies, too;
And if you '11 resolve the puzzle to solve,
You '11 find you have plenty to do.
It's a riddle-me-ro, and it bothers us so,
To think that no answer is given,
That we turn us about, with a mystified shout,
To the jolly and juvenile Seven.
[The SEVEN, evidently puzzled as to this case of mixed identities,
march slowly forward, all abreast, as usual, to footlights, pause,
and then say, confidentially, to audience:


I'm Marjorie Monday;
Timothy Tuesday;
Winifred Wednesday, gay;
I 'm Thaddeus Thursday;
Flora Belle Friday;
And Solomon Saturday;
And I am Miss Sylvia Sunday, 0,
But I'm dreadfully puzzled to say!

And so are we all, and so are we all;
We are dreadfully puzzled to say!
It 's a riddle-me-ro, and 't will puzzle them so,
Through the rest of their natural life,
That no time can they get the children to fret;
So you 're free from their worry and strife.
It 's a riddle-me-ro, and 't will puzzle them so,
That they '1l certainly crazy become;
So we never need fear this old Grand Vizier,
Nor the Sultan of Sulkydom!
[The SULTAN and GRAND VIZIER fall disconsolately back against
the divan, revive and seem to argue the matter together, while
children, fairies, and all the rest join in the final chorus. The
curtain should fall on an effective tableau, which may be ar-
ranged with the Seven central and the other characters grouped
about them. If there is no curtain, the operetta can close with
a spirited march off the stage, all but the SULTAN and GRAND
VIZIER repeating the latter part of the following finale:




Allegro. nf

foe we rout 0 ver turn ble, growl and

$ grum-ble, Down we pull the Sul- tan's throne.

Sing it, ring it, g i-ly sing it,

L ..

SIf we're pout y, glum or grouty, 'Tis

Mer i ly, cheer-i ly, sing it out

4 -Th__.

no- bod-y's fault but just our own, 'Tis
Shout the cho rus full be- fore us, Thus the

-" 1
*.__^__ ______- _----_

no-bod-y's fault but just our own. Gay Ti-
chil-dren's foe we rout! Thus the chil-dren's no-bod-y's fault but just our own. Gay cru-
,I-ass .-- ,._ r4- _-, --1- --44_ / I = -_=_ 5= -- _= -E_ .-

---1 -u-



dom We're free from the Sultan of Sul ky-dom!

-i- AV- 1 =1S= =-d- -a-__=


From the Sul- tan of Sul ky-dom! We're

L 2- ~. -' ~ 'I -, '1 .
-t- F^rE^ -rf |-~


[NOTE.- The decapitation of the heads and the change ofbodies covered with bright cloth, which divides in the center, and is cut to
is an old trick which can be used to advantage here, with little fit the neck, and draped at top so as to look, when closed, as if the
trouble. After the rout of the SULTAN and his" train, he and his heads rested on it. The two can sit or kneel inside this frame-work,
GRAND VIZIER should at once change their suits, but without chang- holding it together from inside. When HoPEFUL gives the word, the
ing their wigs or head-gear. The dais is a light frame-work, frame-work drops and the re-united bodies step out.]





Ait -

IN a street-car, not long ago, I saw a sweet,
chubby face, made rosy by the frosty air nipping
at it. It had a nose set up in a pointed way above
a bow-shaped mouth,-such a mouth!--one of
those that seem in constant readiness to break
into a smile or a kiss or to say something te some-
body. Short curly hair circled about a white neck
and tiny ears, and out over a smooth forehead
from under a well-worn knitted hood. The coat
worn by the little girl, to whom all this belonged,
was coarse and thin, but fitted well some seven
or eight years of shapeliness ; and out of its sleeves
stuck a pair of new, warm, bright-red mittens.

She sat directly across the car from me.. From
under rather scanty skirts extended two legs cov-
ered with well-darned stockings, and on her feet
were shoes-made, I dare not guess when-
which pulled her toes down to just above the straw
in the car, as if coaxing them into a snug, warm
resting-place that was just out of reach. I men-
tally dubbed her "Little Mittens." But what
.charmed me most about her was the admiring
look of interest and admiration in her bright
brown eyes, which were directed to a baby who sat
in its nurse's lap, on the seat beside Little Mittens.
The baby was clad in robes, almost royal, em-



bossed from head to at least a yard beyond any
baby's foot with embroidered -monograms, circles,
and flowers of as yet uncreated species,- all that
could possiblybe crowded on a soft white foundation
of something or other in the merino line. On the
baby's head was a cap so be-puffed, be-frilled, and
be-ribboned, that it was hard to tell where the cap
left off and the head began; but out of the mass
peeped a baby face such as angels might love to
pet. It was a royal baby too, in beauty and
brightness,-fit to grace any degree of royalty.
In the eyes of Little Mittens it seemed even now
to be a real born princess-she had never seen
such a baby and such a dress at the same time.
The conductor came along and officially de-
manded his fare. The nurse searched invisible
pockets, visited with trembling hands all possible
places where change" might be; then moved
the baby from one side of her aproned lap to the
other, as the fear grew upon her that she had lost
her money, and as her confusion grew greater.
Little Mittens thought she saw what was the
matter. Her whole face contracted with anxiety

and flushed with excitement. "Please, ma'am,"
she asked, with timid voice, "have you lost it?"
The nurse took no notice of the sympathizing
inquiry, and did not answer. Little Mittens did
not mind that. She got down on her knees and
looked through the straw, turning it up like a
chicken scratching; she rose and examined the
cushioned car-seat with flying hands; but not
finding anything, she looked pleadingly into the
stern face of the conductor, then into the woe-
begone face of the nurse, who was getting herself
and the baby ready to leave the car. She took in
the whole situation; the baby was to be put off;
the nurse had lost her money. The car was
stopped; there was no time to lose. She almost
tore off her mittens; from one of them she took
a curled-up paper, and out of it some pennies.
Please, sir," she said to the conductor, don't
put it off. I 'll pay; here's the money."
I know where Little Mittens lives, but I did n't
think that nurse did; yet that very afternoon a
royal baby, rich in flaxen curls and royal robes,
made a most delightful call on Little Mittens.

//,' /

/ ^




J A CK'- I N. .. PIT.
,,,. ._

ONCE more I greet you, dear April foo- no,
April friends To be sure some of us are April
fools in one way or another, just as we are often May,
June, or July fools, without being helped to it by
our fellows; but the Deacon and the dear Little
School-ma'am tell me that April fooling, as a
general pastime, is fast going out of fashion,-
that is, among good human folk. Where birds and
breezes and will-o'-the-wisps are concerned, it 's
quite a different matter. They enjoy it. Hear this
little incident now, as related for you by Lilian
Dynevor Rice:

'T was the sunshiny; showery season,
When winter gives way to spring,
The sky and the dancing ocean
Were bright as a bluebird's wing.
Bravely the tender flowers
Were putting their blossoms forth,
When suddenly came a, tempest
Of wind from the icy north,

With a hurry-scurry of snow-flakes,
Which pelted the apple-trees
And romped with the.baby blossoms,
Who thought they would surely freeze;
While the daffodils and the tulips
Grew pallid and weak with fear,
And wished themselves safe in Holland
Till a pleasanter time o' year.

But the tempest sunk to silence,
The bad little snow-flakes fled,
And the sun shone out in splendor
From clustering clouds o'erhead,
And the sweet south wind came laughing,
In place of the north wind cool,
And cried, "Oh, you foolish flowers !
'T was only 'An April Fool! '"


NOT long since we found out that several ani-
mals were good weather prophets, and now here
is a clipping sent us by a friend which seems to
show that even insects have a good claim to the
same title:
Some months ago the natives of a certain dis-
trict in New South Wales left their low-lying
camping grounds for the higher country, saying
that a flood was approaching. A few weeks later
the floods came; and the natives said that their
sole information regarding them was gathered
from the insects, which had built their nests in
the trees instead of on the ground, as usual."


THE Little School-ma'am was giving the girls'
class, the other day, a few hints concerning what
the boys call top-loft-ical politeness, and, as an
instance, she quoted a message which a lady of
Quito sent another lady in that highly polished
region. She says that the Spanish-Americans
practice politeness as a solemn duty. They are
as familiar with their ordinary society phrases as
they are with their prayers. Their civility is no
studied hypocrisy, but becomes a matter of habit
most rigidly cultivated.
This is the message which the lady of Quito
sent to her friend by a servant: "Go to the
Sefiorita Fulana de Tal, and tell her that she is
my heart and the dear little friend of my soul.
Tell her that I am dying for not having seen her,
and ask her why she does not come to see me.
Tell her that I have been awaiting her for .more
than a week, and that I send her my best respects
and considerations; and ask her how she is and
how her husband is, and how each one of her chil-
dren is, and whether they are all well in the family.
And assure her that she is my little love, and ask
her whether she will not be kind enough to send
me that pattern she promised me the other day."
The strangest thing.about all this is that the
servant does n't forget any part of such a message.
"But, no indeed," says the person who told the
Little School-ma'am, "the Quito messenger will
deliver with parrot-like fidelity, and in a strange,
monotonous, sing-song tone of voice, the complete
mass of compliments confided to his charge.


ONE of the peculiarities of a two hundred and
fifty pound pumpkin, grown at Newburgh, N. Y.,
is that it was fed on milk. A root was sent out
from the vine to a basin of milk, and it consumed
a pint of the fluid each day.
The Little School-ma'am says that perhaps this
big pumpkin was doing what he could toward
helping to make himself into pumpkin-pies. "How
would it do," he adds, "to make the experiment
next year of putting another root into a sugar-
bowl, a third into a full egg-beater, and a fourth
into a pan of pie paste? Perhaps then you might be





able to pick your pumpkin pies and tarts fresh
from the vine !
DEAR JACK: I have seen in your pleasant pages
so many accounts of strange doings that I take the
liberty of telling you about an occurrence which
happened under my own observation.
One day, last summer, we all were seated on
the veranda, when our attention was attracted,
by the strange behavior of a couple of insects that
were tumbling furiously about on the ground close
at hand.
Upon examination these proved to be a yellow-

jacket and a -honey-bee of the tame species,
engaged in deadly combat.
The bee was trying its best to find some part of
the yellow-jacket's body soft enough to pierce with
its sting; while the yellow-jacket kept steadily at
work cutting the.bee in two with its sharp mandi-
bles. In this it succeeded, and, taking up half of
the body, flew away, returning shortly for the rest.
Hoping this true story may prove of interest,
,I remain yours truly, F. B. C.
FINALLY, my friends, you shall have as a first of
April story, this preposterous jingle of "The Play-
ful Pheasant."


Chere once weos a PiayFul old P
who tkougL practicall Joking Was
Till t6h2 neihborsone day,
To his utmot disma>.

$enil sdmL i ouincj

--- .-----, 7
n r te. Lld C,)


heoscxant ,

a -presefl~.



ALL readers of ST. NICHOLAS who remember Mr. E. S. Brooks's
charming operetta of The Land of Nod," printed in these pages a
few years ago, will be glad to find in the present number "The
Children's Crusade," a new operetta by Mr. Brooks, which can
hardly fail to be as popular as the first. Notwithstanding the press-
ure upon our space, we have given this operetta entire, as it will'
interest the general reader perhaps almost as much as those young
folks who may undertake its performance. There are, however, of
the music four additional choruses, for which we have not been able
to make room in ST. NICHOLAS. They are: A chorus for the chil-
dren, entitled, For when Children's Sun is Shrouded"; a chorus of
Fairies, "Dancing, Glancing, etc."; a children's chorus (March),
"Over the Mountain and Over the Lea"; and a chorus of the
Sultan's Cabinet and Slaves, Hey- Hey-- Out of the Way."
These pieces may be had, free of charge, upon application to the
publishers of ST. NICHOLAS.

OUR boy readers will, we are sure, welcome the article in the
present number by General Badeau, concerning the battle between
the Monitor and the Merrimac. The story has been told by many
writers, but we doubt whether it has ever been so fully and vividly
set forth for the especial benefit of young readers as in the paper
which we print this month. Many of those who read General

Badeau's article may have seen a recent announcement in the news-
papers of a new invention by Captain Ericsson, the inventor of the
Monitor. It is a naval fighting machine, which is perhaps as great
an improvement on the little Monitor as was that famous vessel
upon the old wooden men-of-war. This new boat is called the
Destroyer. A writer in the New York Tribune says, that in the
opinion of American naval experts Captain Ericsson's Destroyer is
superior to any vessel of the kind invented abroad, and he adds:
"The boat is submerged like the original Monitor, with all the
machinery below an intermediate deck of plate-iron strongly sup-
ported. Attacking 'bows on,' and defying with her armor the
heaviest ordnance, the Destroyer is practically invulnerable, and
at the same time is a terrible antagonist. With a single breech-
loader seven feet under water, firing with great rapidity a projectile
charged with 250 pounds of dynamite, it can subject a hostile fleet
to a racking bombardment."'

WE have to announce that an article concerning The Washington
Christmas Club, which many of our readers in the city of Washing-
ton expected to find in the March ST. NICHOLAS, has been post-
poned to the November or December issue of this year. Its publi-
cation then will be more timely in many ways, and the paper will
have a more practical interest both for members of the club and for
all the readers of ST. NICHOLAS.


Charley G. B., Lilian, and other correspondents: Miss-Baylor
says that the names of Juan and Juanita should be pronounced as if
spelled, in English, Hwan.and Hwaneeta. We are much pleased
that you enjoy the story, and follow with so keen an interest the ad-
ventures of its brave little hero and heroine.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought some of your girls and boys
might like to know of a game our family play, called "Reviews."
There should not be less than three, or more than seven persons
playing. Each person has a pencil and paper. They all begin at
the same time, and each one writes at the top of his or her paper the
real or imaginary title of some book, folds the paper so as to hide
what was written, writes on the next line the word "or," and
passes the paper to the neighbor on the left-hand, who writes a sup-
plementary title beside the "or," and also passes it on. The next
person writes the name of a real or fictitious author.
The next writes the name of the illustrator, and the next gives
the motto of the book. Then come two press notices, Each person
who writes a press notice must give the real or made-up name of
some newspaper. The writer of the last press notice on each paper
must also pass it on, as no one must know till the papers are opened
what is on them; for each person, as he or she writes anything, must
fold the paper over so as to conceal it. At the end of the game each
person has a folded paper, and they all open them, and read them
aloud in turn. Some of the combinations are very funny. I give the
following sample to show in what order the things come:
Never a Word of Blame, or, The Whimsical Fate of a Mummy.
Author.-Josephus Smith.
Illus.- By a cowboy.
Motto.-" Who enters here, leaves hope behind."
(rst Press Notice.)-" A harrowing tale, calculated to freeze the
blood, and direfully illustrated."-Chicago Star.
(2d Press Notice.) "Harmless and useful for the Kindergarten."
-British Gazette.
Hoping that some one may find this an entertaining game to pass
an evening with,
I remain, your devoted reader, EDITH M. K.

A FRIEND of ST. NICHOLAS sends us this crisp little picture. Its
title is

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have often wanted to write and tell
you of a very curious thing I once saw. It belonged to a friend, and
was this: A large caterpillar had eaten the seed of a bulrush- or
else in some way it stuck on to him. Anyhow, in time this bulrush
killed the caterpillar by slowly getting rooted in its body, and when
my friend showed it to me, there was a large thing like a branch
growing out of it. Of course, the caterpillar was quite dead and hard.



I thought this might interest your little folk, and although I am
among your older admirers, still I always look forward to the arrivalof
your nice magazine, and think the story of "Little Lord Fauntleroy"
is very pretty. Yours sincerely, T. P. K.
T. P. K. will find an account of the Bulrush Caterpillar in the
last number of ST. NICHOLAS.

WE print with pleasure the following fac-simile of a letter written
by a blind girl to ST. NICHOLAS. It relates to Miss Alcott's fine
story of The Blind Lark," printed in our November number.

gt fthiitpjtlgBst lCntllB

71 '
g ,t BLFtO IT L .t
DA S .. N L. at .. v.. ... t...

1t (L L

Sr \ ft Ik ? W \ Y L vb c M edl,

A, Vt1 Lt o

Como, iurhich is ua very beautiful lake indeed. Yesterday we went
S otr v o t oot s o t l t was called ,
14 L L L < hL L a*i L Cf s

%L ILL h L 41 1
(3A. fr. %N U -x fix

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am staying at a villa on the Lake of

Como, which is a very beautiful lake indeed. Yesterday we went
to visit another villa on the opposite side of the lake. -Itwascalled
K. s t 11 G TL V-A~ *U O *'

to visit another villa on the opposite side of the lake. -It was called

the Villa Carlotta. It was very pretty, and we admired the sculpt-
ures in it. In coming home we had a thunder-storm while we were
in the middle of the lake, and we were struck by lightning; but so
very slightly, that we had some tingling only in our hands and feet.
You may imagine we were glad to get to shore. I have not been
taking you for a long time, and I like your stories ever so much,
especially "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I am a boy who has an
American mother and a French father. It is the first time I have
written to you. Your devoted reader, LADISLAS DE DIESBACH.
P. S.-This letter was written three months ago, when I was in
Italy. I had mislaid it, and only found it to-day. I will send it,
nevertheless, hoping you will print it, and wishing you a very
happy New Year.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just commenced to take you. I
like you very much. I think Prince Fairyfoot" a very nice story.
I have a dog called Nero, and he is very gentle with me, but the
tramps fear him as much as the Romans once feared their wicked
Nero. Truly yours, MARIE R- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: `I am a little boy eight years old, and
have never attended school. I have two brothers and two sisters,
all younger than myself. My little brother, Willie, is very funny.
He is two years old and has invented a language of his own. He
calls himself "Dine." A dog he calls a "boo-woo "; a chicken,
"oo-oo"; a bird is "peep"; "little" is "ee," and "large" is
"0 ; "upstairs" is "up-down," and "downstairs" is "down-up-
down." He has his own words for everything, and his sentences,
formed with these queer words, sound very funny. Little sister
Yeddy, four years old, is the only one who understands him. She
acts as his interpreter. Yours truly, MASON S. P- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy ten years old, and live in
America, but am stayingin France. I don't learn French very fast,
but have hopes. There is an old cathedral here, and the Tower
where Charlemagne's wife is buried. To-day we went to the chateau
of Louis XI.; "t looks like any old French farmhouse, but has
curious old carvings of hobgoblins over the windows. We thought
we saw a ghost at the window, and imagined it was Tristan I'Her-
mite. (Tristan l'Hermite was the Lord High Executioner to Louis
XI.) Good-bye. Your constant reader, G. M- .

My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eight years old. I
do not think you have had a letter from Sidney Mines before, and as
little girls in other parts of the world write to you, I thought you
would like to hear from me. My home is very beautiful in summer.
We can see the Atlantic Ocean.
Mamma tells me that many little girls living in cities would like to
come here. I often go to see the coal mines with Papa. It is funny
to see the miners come out of the pit as black as coal, except for their
red lips and white in their eyes; with their little lamps burning in
their caps. I like to see the tubs full of coal coming up in the cage
from the pit. I enjoy ST. NICHOLAS very much. Papa has taken
you ever since my big sisters were littler than I am. We all liked
" Little Lord Fauntleroy" very much. I often try to make out your
puzzles. Good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS.
From your little friend, LILLIAN J. S. B- .
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been coming to see me for fully
two years, and I love you better with every visit. You are a silent
and delightful friend, after the chatter of a set of light-hearued and
nimble-tongued schoolgirls. I go to school in Philadelph.a and
have five "devoted'" friends and the kindest and dearest teacher
who ever taught "young ideas to shoot" ; but, I 'm afraid, in spite
of all the training, the ideas shoot fir r.:.rr. Ihe mark a.: medtme
We have here at home the. iual .di.Ounci I, eie -y ell.regu-
lated family of children-two cati and a dog. Our catu -re, o.f
course, the most superior of their kind i every respect,-fur, appear-
ance, deportment, and general intelligence. Their names are Kitty
Pussy Tycoon Mikado and Sambo Jumbo Romeo Columbo. The
latter is small and black and semi-Maltese, which explains his some-
what remarkable name. He is quite adorable and is petted by my
younger sister in a manner worthy of a young Egyptian whom his-
tory records as appreciating felines to a remarkable extent Our
dog-ah "thereby hangs a tale." He is a pure St. Bernard, and
was brought from the Hospice of St Bernard in the Alps about nine
years ago, and we have had him ever since. When he opens his
lips let no dog bark." He is simply superlativee," ard possesses in
a remarkable degree all the virtues common, to dogs in general, in
addition to the most prominent ones of "old dog Tray." He is
gentle and he is kind, loyally devoted to his friends and never for-



getting an insult or an enemy. Mamma says he is like Chevalier
Bayard, sans feur et sans reprocke. His name is Bruno, and he
weighs one hundred and forty pounds.
My father was in San Antonio, Texas, and in New Orleans, this
winter; and on his return brought, among other things, a very curious
"Mexican" whip. The handle part is about two feet long, of leather
completely covered with horse-hair. The hair is dyed different colors;
red, yellow, orange, purplee, green, black, white, and gray, and is
plaited together in a variegated pattern, with about six hairs in each
strand. It is done evenly and closely and has a loop about five
inches long for wrapping around the wrist at the top, and is orna-
mented with tassels of the horse-hair.
He also brought us some sugar-cane and some Florida moss.
The outer covering of the sugar-cane is a brownish-purple color
and of a "sugary-watery" taste. I really prefer sugar myself as a
matter of taste. The Florida moss is dead and gray, resembling
nothing so much as woven dust. Papa says that Bonaventura
Cemetery has the tall old trees draped with this somber moss, and
that the whole effect is very weird and picturesque. Last spring we
had a young alligator sent to us by a friend in New Orleans, but it
must have been too tender to endure the fatigue of railway traveling,
as it was dead when it reached us. We followed every rational sug-
gestion for the revival of alligators: -we put it in hot water, in cold
water, in tepid water, and in salt water; we put it in wet mud, and
in dry mud and on the grass plot; we laid it on its back and laid it
the way it ought to be laid, but there was "no health in it," and it
would n't be revived. Our opportunity to form a more intimate ac-
quaintance with the habits and nature of alligators perished with
their young representative. It was taken to school as a specimen,
properly oh'd" at, and admired, and finally buried under a peach-
tree in the garden. Alligators may be useful, but they certainly are
not pretty.
We have some pressed camellias which bloomed in the open air on
the 15th of February, in San Antonio. They came to us like a warm
blush of summer among the ice and snow of our Northern winter.
The ways of New Orleans are different from those of any of our
Northern cities. There is no marked observance of the Sabbath.
The1theaters are all open and the French market is open for the
accommodation of those who do not buy their Sunday dinner until
they have eaten their Sunday breakfast. This seems almost horrible
to one who has always lived in our good, old, quiet Quaker city.
But, to you, dear, wise ST. NicHOLAS-- French markets, alliga-
tors, cats and dogs must be an old story, worn threadbare by this
time, so I will stop on those subjects.
I am quite a large school-girl, sixteen at Christmas, but Mamma
says I must look forward to four years more of earnest, faithful study,
at the very least. I suppbse that I must be reconciled, for I know that
ignoramuses are only too plentiful; but really it is all such uphill
work. I am gathenng up the poets slowly. I have Longfellow,
Whittier, Tennyson, and Browning, together with Selections fromthe
Poets. I think Longfellow is my favorite: he seems of a kinder,
gentler, and more lovable nature than the others.
I pity you, ST.- NICHOLAS !
So tired you must be
To read this drowsy letter o'er,
Until the end you see.
Well, then, I crave your pardon,
And promise ne'er again
To tax your gentle patience
With ramblings from my pen.
Your sincere friend and constant reader,

AMONG the urgent needs of young and old, a common one is a
'cord'or line, bigger and stronger than any in the "twine-drawer."
'Nearly every one knows how to twist and double a bit of twine, by
making one end fast and turning the other end between the fingers,
until the whole is twisted so firmly that it will "kink," and then
letting it double upon itself, and "kink throughout, making a cord
of four strands, somewhat less than one-quarter the original length
of the string; after which the loose ends are knotted together, and
the deed is done.
But there are one or two difficulties to overcome when one wishes
to double twist a long line: the fingers become painfully tired, and
are likely to let the line slip from the grasp, resulting in very trouble-
some "kinks where they are not wanted. Again, there is apt to be
trouble when the time comes to double--which makes it probable
that Shakspere,had tried to make double twists before he wrote the
witches' song in Macbeth."
The following riethod is an easier way of accomplishing the same
end: take a piece of wood of a size that can be conveniently held in
the hand, and bore in it a hole several times the diameter of the twine
to be twisted. If the twine is not too large, a common wooden
spool will do admirably. Procure also a small stick six or eight
inches long; a lead-pencil will serve. Double the string by tving
the ends together. Make a loop in each end of the doubled line,

slip one of these loops over a nail or anything that will bear the
necessary strain; pass the other loop through the wood or spool,
and then thrust the small stick through the loop. When the
line is pulled taut, the stick will be in position across the bit of
wood, and can be turned rapidly and evenly around in the direc-
tion that will also twist the strands of string more tightly.
Don't double this twisted line unless you have some one to help

M /

you. If you are alone, it is better, before beginning to twist at all,
to make a third loop in the middle of the doubled cord. Place this
middle loop over the hook or nail, and twist each half separately
before letting the two twist upon each other.
To keep the first half from kinking while twisting the second,
make it fast and taut to some fixed point, or wind it tightly around
anything that will hold it. Each of the two halves should receive
about the same number of turns to insure evenness in the final
double. Perhaps the better way is to make" two separate twists,
and then to allow them to twine around each other.
It is a good plan to stretch the first two lengths side by side after
they are twisted, and lash the corresponding ends together before
allowing them to take the final twist.

WE thank the young friends whose names are here given for
pleasant letters which we have received from them: Annie B. D.,
Frank Kurtz, Etta R., James M. B., Mary B. S., Maude E. S.,
Willie M. Gardner, John V. D., Jr., and H. B. Gill, Edith Langton,
Violet Campbell, E. G. S. L., Tommy Gillick, Maude N. K., Charlie
D. T., Maud G., Henry I. Bowditch, Mary R. Hand, Grace S.
Bean, Hattie P., Peggy, Franklin C., Jr., Rachel F. M., Etta Boaz,
Daisy Bell P., Edith S. Clarke, Fred W. Wile, A. S. E., Edith T.
Bell, Anna Post, Margarette Reed, Annie Reed, Carson D., Pattie
Mercer, S. D., Helen W. R., Nellie Trigg, Nellie Stone, Oliver W.,
Lizzie M. R.; Indie Reese, R. C. 0., Nina F. J., A. M. S., Nathalie
Wilson, Ransom D. Brackett, Olive W. Morison, Adeline Z., Willie
W., Mabel, C. A. B., Edith D., Chas. B. Pratt, Clarence and'Clif-
ford Sharp, Cub, Nettie Priest, Constance E. Ruth, Mary K. Hadley,
Mabel Des B., Mabel D., L. H., May Louise B., W. M. Dudley,
Kate Adams, Hattie L. Stockton, Grace, Florence, Bessie, Jennie,
Nini, N. F. Towner, Allmand McK. G., Josie Elsmore, Bessie L.
Lake, A. J. D., Bertha S., Alfred T., Georgie L., "Pansy," W. P.
Eaton, Cora L. O., Mary J. S., Edith D. Tucker, A. C. A., V. C.,
and R. B. Wilson.






.E ."i


Enter Tommy He presents Casar to the spectators Casar reads his book Casar as an organ-grinder-" Put my hat on, Sir!"-
" Now, Cesar, we '11 take a walk I "-" Behold our friendship "- Resting -" He will catch every nng "- Casar becomes playful -They
perform a duet- They salute the house The crowning performances- They go out with great applause.




WHEN ST. NICHOLAS promised to print a list of the names of those who sent answers to the" King's Move Puzzle," it hardly thought that
it would be obliged to print them after the fashion of a serial story; yet, owing to the great number of answers received, this is what must be
done; and one page of names will be printed each month until the list is complete. As some of our correspondents have said, When
R. P. M. made the puzzle, he builded better than he knew," for, instead of forty-five names being spelled out by the king's move," between
three and four hundred poets' names must be concealed in the hundred squares.
The mistake most frequently made was in spelling Schiller without the c, and many will find their lists shortened on this account.
As it was difficult, in fact, impossible, to "' draw the line" and say thi poet is sufficiently famous to be admitted, and that poet is
not," it was' decided to admit all poets, great and small. The longer lists of course include many poets of lesser fame, whose names would
be new and strange to many readers of ST. NICHOLAS.
The longest lists certainly are the result of much careful research; yet all honor to those who sent the names of forty-five well-known
poets, says ST. NICHOLAS.
Maud E. Palmer, 264-Lawrence Arnold Tanzer, 204-Ada C. Apgar, 200-A., z77-A. H. Chester, 175-Lawrence H. Rhoades,
144-Rebecca S. Price, 24--Grace Gallaher, n16-Geo. and Lua, 116-J. W. C., z14-Nannie M. Warner, r14-Fannie Keller,
113-Percy Varian, 1x3-Anna M. Farr, z12-N. and J. Chapin, iii-Alice S. Raymond, ro8-Vivien Whybrew, ros-"Aunt
Maria and her boys," 104-Jones Children, o13-E. M. Warren-Fay, -o2-J. M. S., ro2-Louise Cook, o1 -Hannah Jones, ro..

FROM 9o TO zoo.- F. M. C., .C. S. Foster, A. Y. Bennett, Mary, Beth, and Annie, M. N. Armstrong, M. F. Mott, Broadoaks,"
G. W. Billings, H. Evans, E. K., N. Ward, A. L. Stanton, C. O. Seymour, G. E. Sibley, Clevenger Bros., Whiffle," A. S. Frederick.
FROM 80 TO 90.-W. Bingham and L. C. Sleeper, K. H. Ely, Frank and Mamma, D. Kimball, B. Beardsley, M. J. and H. Healy,
M. E. and L. M. Norcross, H. Ripley, C. O. M. E., D. White, W. C. Thompson, G. Barton, M. Wells, A. R. Phelps, "Bird,"
M. R. Young, C. F. Keyes, L. Van U. Morris, R. L. Stannis, A. F. Matlock, P. Loving, M. E. H., M. R. Clark, E. L. B., Lector,
Dick C., E. Tee, E. T. Clarke, J. Marcellus, C. H. Brown, C. Bingham, W. H. Nance, J. H. Greusel, H. and F. Mclntyre, Mrs. C. M.
Powell, R. B. Pratt, F. Dunham, J. Ross Taylor, A. Miln, M. Miln.
FROM 70 TO 80.- P. S. Boyd, H. Parkhurst, D. W. and G. J., F. Hayes and M. Morton, E. G. Clark, M. R. B., Granberry, H. B. Mit-
chell, P. S. Fiske and Co.,W. K. Upham, L. W. Dodd, R. A. West, R. C. Booth, Mary A. K., W. H. P., J. H. Pullman, M. L. T., R.
Demmon, R. B. Stone, E. S. Bovde, "An Old Boy," L. P. C., E. Ripley, "Ferryst," B. Smith, "Grandpa," D. B. McLean, L. B. Collins,
Chase F., S. Hesselrigge, Rix, M. Sherwood, A.W. G., A. C. Sherwood, G. C. Mayon, M. Jewell, W. R. Moore, Check-mate," M. Hoyt,
L.Wadsworth, G. and F. Moffett, W. Heaston, W. C. Johnson, M. A. Brown, B. Z., A. M. Bell, M. Day, M. and B. Murdock, S. M.
Sherman, F. A. Clarke, H. Robbins, Caro M. Y., H. B. B., M. Davidson, J. Ross Hardy, F. McIntyre, E. M. L. C., S. L. Cromwell,
A. M. Hurford, A. J. E., F. Malin, T. and A. Kimball, "Park Place School," F. M. Stewart, H. M. Fryling, R. P. Kent, S. Burrage,
J. W. White, A. A. Nesbit, J. Anderson, M. Metcalf, A. B. L., Clover-leaf," G. G. Cooke, A. L. Wightman, E. S. Lowell, M. Thayer,
A. Thompson, R. McIlhenny, W. H. Lawrence, "York," "Juan and Juanita," F. Kelly L. P. Sheppard, C. P. Emery, M. C. and R H.
Johnson, Lavinia Gristing, W. N. Walmsley, L. Trask, N. C. K., B. E. Symonds, E. Glenny, Mamma and Fanny, L. Miln, B. Allen,
L. K. Morse.
FROM 60 TO 70.-C. L. Bowen, L. B. M., Sambo, D. N. Rellim, M. E. Hudson and E. S. Walker, L. and C. Driscoll, P. Parsons, F.
Worstell, E. S. Brosnes, B.W. Shutes, L. Tuttle, E. M. Noble, W. Evans, M. T.Turrill, W. and N. Roots, T.W. Hooper, A. Jenkins, R. H.
and M. L. Fernald, B. D. Palmer, H. Lewis, F. Bringhurst, M. E. Smith, Stone," D. and F., J. Porter, H. C. Robinson, A. Mmich,
Harry P. M., J. H. McClellan, M., C., and H. Harris, R. B. Kendig, F. Thorn, E. A. Gay, B. Z. G., "Rainie," M. P. R., J. M. Gibbard,
J. R. Sharpless and S. K. Reifsnyder, A. M. Sterling, A. O. Pritchard, M. O. Giles, Jessie L. K., L. Frear, Fraulein J.," J. French,
F. Smith, M. King, C. and W. Miner, L. R. Allen, Norman," A: L. W., C. E. Edson, E. De Puy, A. C. Williams, R. Burns, E. M.
and B. Miller, S. L. Orr, "Dora," M. D. Giles, Mrs. J. B. Clougher, Mrs. C. H. Howland, C. P. Skinner, H. M. Smith, O. W. Cook,
"Jack Spratt," A. W. Bingham, Ethel and Gertrude, The Twins," R. C. Busser, F. A. Cook, K. H. R., I. Hanchett, A. O. Wright,
E. W. Burleson, S. Raynor, J. P. Beardsley, L. L. Smyth, E. S. Mitchell, M. H. Cook, "Wamba," A. Zwick, "Peterkin," M. E.
Bulkley, V. S. Osgood, E. M. and C. G. Pomeroy, M. B. Robinson, E. Edgerley. H. S. Hadden, J. B. Goodwillie, L. How, P. Rodgers,
M. H. Hall, F. E. B., Cats," "N. P. and Co.," E. Herring, H. H. Patterson, C, P. D., S. W. Johnson, A. M. S. Hilgard,. R. W.
Dawson, E. A. Salmond, C. K. B., Charter and Bessie, M. Des Brisay, F. E. L. A. H., J. L. Bowen, H. J. Libbey, Lee Elam, K.
Gaston and M. Watt, A. and E. Wadsworth, W. D. and I. P. Cotton, J. P. Miller, A. Hubbard, T. R. Rosebraugh, G. Bliss and E.
Schulze, A. B. Reid, M. and H. Gordon, F. S. Gould, F. Crampton, C. T. R., E. A. Munsoh, Mab. L., L. R. Cape, B. Havens, G. E.
Keech, M. Nichols, E. H. Lyall, Daisy and Mabel, T. B. Boyer, C. A. M. Currier, A. R. Wilson, A. and W. Hunter, H. S. Griffith,
I. A. R., R. F. Dickson, E. Goodwin, J. Edwards and C. Shannon, H. Cumberland, C. Clayton, Helene," E. H. Barton, H. Bennett,
"Original Puzzle Club," Bertha and Nina, E. Illick, F. Burns, Lehte," S. S. Homor, E. B. Taylor, J. C. Stover, "Teacher," "Jennie
and Harry," A. G. Parker, P. Carpenter, L. E. Matteson, Pudger," S. Hodgetts, R. C. L. White, S. L. Taylor, A. M. Liveright,
J. K. Lord, Jr., E. A. C., G. M. Weston, J. and K. McFarland, L. S. and O. H. S., L. A. McGilvray, E. Hobart, M. B. Snabo, A.
Loesch, M. A. B., Viola," M. T. Sayre, B. Lawton, B. L. Bedell, E. Palmer, F. Baldwin, L. P. Sketchley, F. B. C., A. A. B. Knox,
De F. W. Bowen, M. B. Pope, G. M. Whaples, A. M. Hays, J. L. Parks, F. E. Thompson, L. L. B., B. D. Palmer, Emma and
Florence B., L. E. Green, H. F. Stringer, A. M. Hancock, M. P. C. and S. C., F. L. Clay, L. H. L. and R. D. S. M., M. H.
Foster, G. H. and M. Ingraham, H. F. Brockett, M. S. Clark, J. L. B. Sturgis, A. L. Wilson, M. Crucknell, C. E. Hoyt, Papa,
Mamma, and Lizzie, M. Prenter, M. D. Aylsworth, "The Bangs," L. Hodge, Floy and Alice H., C. S. Campbell, M. E. Twiss, F. E.
Grant, May Bee, Mrs. A. M. Ware, L. Gish, C. C. Lakin, B. S. Nelligen, M. G. Osborne, A. M. Williams, R. M. Frost, M.
Henderson, B. J. Woodruff, J. Aldrich, Jr., M. F. Reynolds.
SFROM 50 TO 6.- H. Keables, Midge," M.Weil, B. Kremer, J. A. H. and F. H., G. Kupfer,V. Oberholtzer, D.Webster, A. A. Collier,
M. B. Miller, S. A. Harris, G. D. Williams, H.Y. P., J. Hunter, L. W. M., M. Page, H. E. Grimm, B. Lee, F. P. Dalyrymple, M. Neu-
burger, F. M. S. and E. B. F., L. R. S., J. Wilkinson, Jr., L. S. Drane, K. H., M. C. Adams, "Capt. Jinks," J. W. Young, H. Curtis,
E. Fennell, L. Jessup, L. E. Ellis, M. D. Haines, G. Seymour and Co., X. Y. Z. &., Wm. C. and Amy F. D., C. H. Perry, W. Smiley, H.
Smith, G. Benjamin, R. R. Kitchel,.S. Bell, C. C. Clark, A. M. Roberts, M. Robbins, Mrs. E. Baker, K. D. Hequembourg, E. J. Barstow,
E.W. Hamilton, B. .incoln, E. H. Sturtevant, W. Colburn, T. H. A. Stites, E. Finkle, C. C. Craft, I. R. Hughes, G.W. Skinner, Henry and
Judie, Mrs. D. R. Andrews, S. C. Le G., G. M. R., J. B. Kirkpatrick, L. Waldron, F. Smyser, E. Hoopes, "Novy Norris," F. Wise,
L. Van Derveer, T. A. Lewis, W. McA. Johnson, H. H. Esselstyn, L. Johnston, G. N. Ferguson, A. Hoffman, F. B. C., M. W. Bosler,
W. H. S., E. Jackson, D. M. Roberts and K. Davis, E. W. M. M., V. S. Stevens, "Two Sisters," E. R. Emery, R. A. Spence, "Pe-
nelope," W. B. Mornngstem, M. G. Shallcross, B. Bradbury, N. F. 52, K. P. Brooks, '"Neff," M. L. Barclay, M. L. Hardy, C. A. and L.
M. Weaver, F. V. Williams, B. B. Boyd, "Pug," G. E. Wesson, A. T. 0., F. Castree, M. E. Stone, L. B., O. A. Yarnelle, N. W. Hafl-
ner, Fosdick," K. G. S., S. U. and M. J. Hill, M. and R. Bolles, B. Shaw, N. Randall, S. Hart, M. M. P., R. Davis, "Torrence
Family," H. K. R., H. Van Deventer, E. G. Atwood, A. L. Simpson, S. W. B. M., "Novy Nomo," "Moll and Poll," N. Hayward, C.
S., Rob. M. B., H. E. J. Mowat, H. W. Bentley, B. D. Stoddart, T. M. Hubbard, M. G. Orwig, F. W. Damon, E. Williams, F. Bos-
kovoitz, Ferdie," W. I. Hawks, A. M. Logan, 0. M. N. E. S., A. B. McIlvaine, W. and E. Wilson, B. Griffiths, J. A. Whiteside, R. R.
Fairweather, A. L. Lyon, Tom A., Jr., C. Crane, R. W. Allen, B. M. Allen, A. R. Hopkins, A. Post, F. S. Monaghan, Marie F., C. L.
Thornton, M. Hendrix, G. Hambly, "Lulie," C. E. Risley, N. Stone, E. D. Ogden, H. Stilson, I. and G. Gibson, C. W. Chandler, N.
ErJenne, H. A. Nichols, "Three Little Maids," W. R. Seavey, E. T. Maclean, A. M. C.,E. H. Fairbanks, E. Blair, "Anglo-Saxon,"
"Prof and Mother," "Gluck," A. Henkel, M. A. Millikin, Allyn, A. G. H., "Two Cherubs," E. E. Rebasz, V. A. Blanchird, Chicago
Tom," E. W. Potter, L. G. Stevenson, S. H. Cochrane, F. Colson, C A. Snow, Dick Egbert, V. Wilson, L. and H. K. (To be continued.)





ZIGZAG PROVERB. From I to 5I, Might makes right; from I to
15, Right makes might. Cross-words. I. Motor. 2. Finis. 3.
Wager. 4. She, he. 5. Taunt. 6. Maxim. 7. Fatal. 8. Fakir.
. Melee. so. Sinus. ix. Rheum. 12. Mimic. 13. Bogey. 14.
She, he. 15. Tacit.
BURIED BIRDS. x. Touraco, swan. 2. Tinamou, pintail. 3.
Gannet, daw. 4. Harpy, martin. 5. Mavis, hawk. 6. Swallow,
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Waste. 2. Actor. 3. Stone. 4. Tonic.
5. Erect. II. I. Champ. 2. Humor. 3. Amuse. 4. Moses. 5.
HOUR-GLASS. Cross-words: I. Ministers. 2. Mankind. 3.
Bread. 4. Ode. 5. A. 6. Ida. 7. Cider. 8. Villain. 9. Mut-
tering. Centrals, Skedaddle.
BROKEN WORDS. I. March-ed. 2. Winds-ail. 3. And-irons.
4. May-bloom. 5. Sun-dry. 6. Make-peace. 7. Clothes-line. 8.
White-ned. 9. And-ante. so. Maids-tone. ix. Dun-fish.
EASY RHOMBOID. Across: I. Bird. 2. Tire. 3. Bare. 4.

DIAMOND. I. M. 2. Cob. 3. Lanes. 4. Carotid. 5. Mono-
tones. 6. Betoken. 7. Sines. 8. Den. 9. S.
Some village Hampden that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless ofhis country's blood.
Gray's Elegy."
DOUBLE DIAMOND. Across: i. T. 2. Art. 3. Float. 4. Bur.
5. T. Downward: x. F. 2. Alb. 3. Trout 4. Tar. 5. T.
A PENTAGON. I. L. 2. Lar. 3. Lotus. 4. Lattice. 5. Ruined.
6. Scene. 7. Eden.
RIMLESS WHEELS AND HUBS. I. From I to 8, Mirabeau;
from 9 to 16, Harrison. From I to 9, mirth; 2 to so, India: 3 to
in, racer; 4 to 12, armor; 5 to 13, Bukki; 6 to 14, ewers; 7 to 15,
Arago; 8 to x6, union. II. From x to 8, Herschel; from 9 to x6,
Barbauld. From I to 9, Horeb; 2 to so, Eliza; 3 to nx, rover; 4 to
12, shrub; 5 to 13, comma; 6 to 14, Hindu; 7 to 15, equal; 8 to 16,
livid. CRoSS-WORD ENIGMA. Bach.

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 JANIUARY NUMBER were received, before January 20, from L. E. Henon -Tudor Jenks-
Nicoll and Mary Ludlow Harleigh Parkhurst--Henry H. Esselstyn P. S. Fiske and Co.- Maud E. Palmer-- Maggie T. Turrill-
Clifford and Coco"- Pearl Francis Stevens- Deerfoot -Penelope- B. Z. G.-" Rainie "- Nellie and Reggie -K. G. S.-Jo and I
- Russell Davis -Grace Daniels -Novy Nomo-R. B. Stone -Findlay French-Paul Reese- Mary A. Mullikin Elise Ripley-
Sun, Moon, and Stars- Ella M. Poland- Ada Hinman San Anselmo Valley- Georgie Barton Nero W. R. Moore- Dash-
Ouidos- Charter and Bessie -Mamma and Fanny-No Name, Scranton -W. D. B.-May Budges- Francis W. Islip-Hazel and
So' MANY have sent in answers to January riddles that this month room can not be made for the names of those who solved but one
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 2o, from Midge, 2-E. M., 5-Grace K., 3-C.
L. Hoffman, 2 -H. G., M. G., H. H., and S. H., 4 -Ned R., 3 Martha Barrie, 6- Augusta Adams, 3- Effie K. Talboys, 4--E. S.
F., 2-A. H. R. and M. G.;R., 6- F. C. H. and M. H. H., 5-G. Seymour, 4-E. and A. Hochstadler, 4-Dots, 2-W. and B., 2
-May and Eloise, 6--Cupid and Stupid, 2--Two of a Kind, 5 -Vivian V. V., 2 Ohnja, 4 T. H. A. S., 2-G. M. R., 2 May
Bombay, 5- Odin, 5 -Pearl Garnet, 5- L. A., 2 Toboggan, 5 Fayetta Thorn, 3 Frou Frou, 3-W. C. P., 2--Lillie and Bertie, 6,
-A. M. Sterling, 2- Pug, 2-S. U. and M. J. Hill, 5-N. E. Winer, 2 -Billy and Me, 3 Mona and Enna, 3-F. E. Stanton, 6-
Torrance Family, 6 -H. K. R., 3- M. and G., 2 Professor and Co., 5- Moll and Poll, 2- I, Me, and Co., 4- C. S., 3- Rob M.
B., 5 -B. Beardsley, 2-"L. S. and Teetotaler," 4 -John W. Thompson, 5 Lill and I, 3 St. Louis Pansy, 5- B. and S., 3-P. A.,
Varian, 5--Alice S., 2--Bessie Griffiths, 4- Mamma, Nan, and I, 5 -H. W. Baldwin, 2- M. W. McNair, 2- H. Stilson, 4-E. C.
H., 4- A. M. C., 2- Glfick, 4 N. L. H., 2 Neill, 3 Jack Spratt, 2-,C. E. N. S., and E. C. Carey, 6 Lebermann, 3 -B. F.
and J. W. H. Porter, 2 -" Mrs. Lecks," 4-" Lynn C. Doyle," 3 Gif, 3 Blithedale, 4 A. Walsh, 2 P's and K's, 4 Frisky, 2-
Undine, 2 A. S. Donnally, 3 Mary and Martha, 2 R. G. Perkins, 2 K. S. P., 2 Brightwood, 3- Bruz, 3 L. S. K., 2 M.
Roe, 2 -W. L. H., 2-" May and 79," 6 N. and M. Chater, 2 S. H. S. and D. M., 5 -Laura, 2 -J. Chubb, 4 -Bugs, 2-Cats, a
-A. B. C., 2-H. Ouston, 6--Billy B., 2-"Sally Lunn," 6-E. L. Hanington, 3- Kittie and Willie, 4--J. D. Flandrau, 2-
Stewart Browns, 4--J. B. D. and M. F. D., 2 -R. H. and Papa, 6 -A. G. Lewis, 3- G. L. M., 3 F. D. Stone, 2 C. T. R., 4-
Howard Greene, 6-Toots, 3-S. M. S., 5--Bupsi, 3-"Theo. Ther," 4-L. C. B., 3-A. J. B., 3-A. S. R., 2-H. M. A., 3
--Lollipop, 2-L. F. McW., 6-C. W. C., 2- Signets, 3-A. A. H. 2-J. L., 2-J. E. W., 3-Largs, 3- R. N. T., 2- Rustic, 2
-Junius, 3- M. E. H, 5 Martin Luke, 5 -Lehte, 2.

3. Pertaining to the moon. 4. A sailor. 5. In learning.
MY primals and finals each name a conveyance. V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In learning. 2. To ven-
CROSS-WORDS (of unequal length): i. An ocean. 2. The central tilate. 3. To mature. 4. A color. 5. In learning.
part of an amphitheater. 3. The surname of the writer of the Es- WI.LIE RENTON.
says of Elia." 4. A Turkish governor. 5. A Biblical name. 6.
A book nearly or quite square. 7. Not matched. 8. To summon. CONNECTED PYRAMIDS.

S. UPPER PYRAMID. Across: I. In prison. 2. Everything. 3. A
color. 4. That which gives a rolling motion. Downward: I. In
I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In learning. 2. A portion. prison. 2. To pass. 3. Dexterity. 4. An excuse. 5. To permit.
3. Kingly. 4. To make brown. 5. In learning. 6. Not any. 7. In prison.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In learning. 2. Located. LOWER PYRAMID. Across: i. In prison. 2. A young animal.
3. An animal. 4. A large cask. 5. In learning. 3. Belonging to the ear. 4. Momentum. Downward. x. In
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In learning. 2. A snare. 3. The prison. 2. A verb. 3. A small vessel. 4. Unfailing. 5. A heavy
second mechanical power. 4. A beverage. 5. In learning, stick. 6. An old game. 7. In prison. MYRTLE GREEN."







I a N~l~aE~nLa

7 17

ON each of the ten eggs are eight letters. All of the letters in one egg may be so arranged as to form a word. When these words have
been rightly placed, one below the other (as the diagram shows), the zigzags from I to io will spell a season, and from-ai to 20 will spell
objects very often seen at this time of the year; F. s. F.


I. UPPER SQUARE: i. A musical instrument. 2. Surface. 3.
To gather. 4. A relation.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: x. A fastening. 2. A girl's name.
3. To clip. 4. A relative.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. A relative. 2. Dry. 3. To lan-
guish. 4: A gulf.
IV.. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: i. A gulf. 2. Dismal. 3. Ages.
4. An abiding-place.
V. LOWER SQUARE: x. A gulf. 2. A bird. 3. Uniform. 4. A
wicked Roman emperor. o. v. R. AND L. B. A.

I ." .. 2

5 .. 6

3 4

7 8
FROM I to 2, a happy place; from 2 to 4, a people; -from 3 to 4,
to blush; from I to 3, to delay; from 5 to 6, maybe found in the
Poultry yard; from 6 to 8, gnawing; from 7 to 8, a shoot from the.
stem of plant; from 5 to 7, special faculty; from I to 5, to suspend;
from 2 to 6, close by; from 4 to 8, tidy; froth 3 to 7, tatters.

My first is in table, but not in chair;
My second in homely, but not in fair;
My third is in apple, but not in plum;
My fourth is in finger, but not in thumb;
My fifth is in milk, but not in wine;
My sixth is in handsome, but not in fine;
My seventh in mite, but not in rod;
My eighth is in pea, but not in pod;
My ninth is in water, but not in bay;
My tenth is in meadow, but not in hay;
My eleventh, in merry, but notin gay.
My whole you will find out in all kinds of weather,-
'Tis seldom the same for two days together.



.. 2

UPPER SQUARE: I. A beverage. 2. Tranquillity. 3. A very
large division of land. 4. An ecclesiastical dignitary.
LOWER SQUARE: I. A narrow piece of timber. 2. A narrow
road. 3. A plant that yields indigo. 4. To make known.
Diagonals, from I to 2, part of a vessel. MYRTLE GREEN."


COEM pu, lipra, gourhth eth lelvay,
Ni.yuor bores fo tabyeu stred,
Meoc dan waoek yrou weylorf rienchld
Form rithe trynwi besd fo sert.
Moec dan verblowo hemt lystof
Thwi eth weset thabre of eth thous .
Prod puon emth, arwm dan voling,
Dresteten siskes of rouy tomhu. "LOU. C. LEE."


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