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 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Two little confederates
 The little moon
 The duke's test
 Little Rosalie
 Mother is "goal"
 A moving story
 Girard college
 Prince Oleg's destiny
 Ginseng-hunting
 To my boy - On decoration day
 Madame Arachne
 Ran away to home
 Lady Daffodil - Pictures for little...
 By proxy
 An adventure with a man-eater
 Little Josef Hofmann
 Drill: A story of school-boy...
 May-day
 The advice of Miss Alcott
 A Chinese market
 Housekeeping songs. No. III (words...
 Riches and poverty
 The story of the morning-glory...
 One little shoe
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine


BLDN NEH CCLC ICDL UFSPEC



St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION SEARCH THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00199
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00199
 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
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    Two little confederates
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
        Page 490
    The little moon
        Page 491
    The duke's test
        Page 492
        Page 493
    Little Rosalie
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
    Mother is "goal"
        Page 502
    A moving story
        Page 503
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
        Page 507
        Page 508
    Girard college
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
        Page 512
        Page 513
        Page 514
        Page 515
    Prince Oleg's destiny
        Page 516
        Page 517
    Ginseng-hunting
        Page 518
        Page 519
    To my boy - On decoration day
        Page 520
    Madame Arachne
        Page 521
        Page 522
        Page 523
        Page 524
    Ran away to home
        Page 525
        Page 526
        Page 527
        Page 528
        Page 529
    Lady Daffodil - Pictures for little French readers
        Page 530
    By proxy
        Page 531
    An adventure with a man-eater
        Page 532
        Page 533
        Page 534
    Little Josef Hofmann
        Page 535
        Page 536
        Page 537
    Drill: A story of school-boy life
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
        Page 541
        Page 542
        Page 543
    May-day
        Page 544
    The advice of Miss Alcott
        Page 545
    A Chinese market
        Page 546
        Page 547
    Housekeeping songs. No. III (words and music)
        Page 548
    Riches and poverty
        Page 549
    The story of the morning-glory seed
        Page 550
    One little shoe
        Page 551
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 552
        Page 553
        Page 554
        Page 555
    The letter-box
        Page 556
        Page 557
        Page 558
    The riddle-box
        Page 559
        Page 560
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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ST. NICHOLAS.




MAY, 1888.




TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.

BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE.


CHAPTER I.

HE Two Little Confederates"
lived at Oakland. It was not
a very handsome place, as
modern ideas go, but down in
| Old Virginia, where the stand-
ard was different from the
later one, it passed in old times
as one of the best plantations
in all that region. The boys thought it the greatest
place in the world, of course excepting Richmond,
where they had been one year to the fair, and had
seen a man pull fire out of his mouth, and do
other wonderful things. It was quite secluded. It
lay, it is true, right between two of the county
roads, the Court-house Road being on one side,
and on the other the great "Mountain Road,"
down which the large covered wagons with six
horses and jingling bells used to go; but the lodge
lay this side of the one, and the big woods,"
where the boys shot squirrels, and hunted 'possums
and coons, and which reached to the edge of
" Holetown," stretched between the house and
the other, so that the big gate-post where the
semi-weekly mail was left by the mail-rider each
Tuesday and Friday afternoon was a long walk,
even by the near cut through the woods. The rail-
road was ten miles away by the road. There was
a nearer way, only about half the distance, by
which the negroes used to walk, and which dur-
ing the war, after all the horses were gone the boys,
too, learned to travel; but before that, the road


by Trinity Church and Honeyman's Bridge was
the only route, and the other was simply a dim
bridle-path, and the horseshoe ford" was known
to the initiated alone.
The mansion itself was known on the plantation
as "the gret house," to distinguish it from all the
other houses on the place, of which there were
many. It had as many wings as the angels in
the vision of Ezekiel.
These additions had been made, some in one
generation, some in another, as the size of the
family required; and finally, when there was no
side of the original building to which another wing
could be joined, a separate building had been
erected on the edge of the yard, which was called
"The Office," and was used as such, as well as
for a lodging-place by the young men of the
family. The privilege of sleeping in the Office
was highly esteemed, for, like the toga virilis, it
marked the entrance upon manhood of the youths
who were fortunate enough to enjoy it. There
smoking was admissible, there the guns were kept
in the corner, and there the dogs were allowed to
sleep at the feet of their young masters, or in bed
with them, if they preferred it.
In one of the rooms in this building the boys went
to school whilst small, and another they looked for-
ward to having as their own when they should be
old enough to be thought worthy of the dignity of
sleeping in the Office. Hugh already slept there,
and gave himself airs in proportion; but Hugh
they regarded as a very aged person; not as old,
it was true, as their cousins who came down from


Copyright, 1888, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.
483


VOL. XV.


No. 7.






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


college at Christmas, and who, at the first out-
break of war, all rushed into the army; but each
of these was in the boys' eyes a Methuselah. Hugh
had his own horse and the double-barrelled gun,
and when a fellow got those there was little ma-
terial difference between him and other men, even
if he did have to go to the academy,-which was
really something like going to school.
The boys were Frank and Willy; Frank being
the eldest. They went by several names on the
place. Their mother called them her "little men,"
with much pride; Uncle Balla spoke of them as
"them chillern," which generally implied some-
thing of reproach; and Lucy Ann, who had been
taken into the house to "run after" them when
they were little boys, always coupled their names
as "Frank 'n' Willy." Peter and Cole did the
same when their mistress was not by.
When there first began to be talk at Oakland
about the war, the boys thought it would be a dread-
ful thing; their principal ideas about war being
formed from an intimate acquaintance with the
Bible and its accounts of the wars of the Children
of Israel, in which men, women and children were
invariably put to the sword. This gave a vivid
conception of its horrors.
One evening, in the midst of a discussion about
the approaching crisis, Willy astonished the com-
pany, who were discussing the merits of the prob-
able leaders of the Union armies, by suddenly
announcing that he'd "bet they did n't have any
general who could beat Joab."
Up to the time of the war the boys had led a
very uneventful, but a very pleasant life. They
used to go hunting with Hugh, their older brother,
when he would let them go, and after the cows
with Peter and Cole. Old Balla, the driver, was
their boon comrade and adviser, and taught them
to make whips, and traps for hares and birds, as
he had taught them to ride and to cobble shoes.
He lived alone (his wife had been set free years
before, and lived in Philadelphia). His room over
"the old kitchen" was the boys' play-room when
he would permit them to come in. There were so
many odds and ends in it!
Then the boys played blindman's-buff in the
house, or hide-and-seek about the yard or garden,
or upstairs in their den, a narrow alcove at the
top of the house. The little willow-shadowed
creek, that ran through the meadow behind the
barn, was one of their haunts. They fished in it
for minnows and little perch; they made dams and
bathed in it; and sometimes they played pirates
upon its waters.
Once they made an extended search up and
down its banks for any fragments of Pharaoh's
chariots which might have been washed up so


high; but that was when they were younger and
did not have much sense.

CHAPTER II.

THERE was great
.' excitement during the
.- John Brown raid, and
1'.'I' ,I-i-' the good grandmother
''--'.. '.': ,' used to pray for him
..-- '"'' '' I and Cook, whose pic-
S '- tures were in the
.. papers.
i' The boys became
soldiers, and drilled
~~p' unctiliously with
guns which they got
Uncle Balla to make
for them. Frank was
the captain, Willy the
.'first lieutenant, and
a dozen or more little
--- negroes composed the
-- k and file, Peter and
:..eing trusted file-closers.
A little later they found their
sympathies all on the side of peace and the pres-
ervation of the Union. Their uncle was for keep-
ing the Union unbroken, and ran for the Con-
vention against Colonel Richards, who was the
chief officer of the militia in the county, and was
as blood-thirsty as Tamerlane, who reared the pyr-
amid of skulls, and as hungry for military renown
as the great Napoleon.
There was immense excitement in the county
over the election. Though the boys' mother had
made them add to their prayers a petition that
their Uncle William might win, and that he might
secure the blessings of peace; and, though at
family prayers, night and morning, the same peti-
tion was presented, the boys' uncle was beaten at
the polls by a large majority. And then they
knew there was bound to be war, and that it
must be very wicked. They almost felt the "in-
vader's heel," and the invaders were invariably
spoken of as "cruel," and the heel was described
as of iron," and was always mentioned as engaged
in the act of crushing. They would have been terri-
bly alarmed at this cruel invasion had they not been
re-assured by the general belief of the community
that one Southerner could whip ten Yankees, and
that, collectively, the South could drive back the
North with popguns. When the war actually broke
out, the boys were the most enthusiastic of rebels,
and the troops in Camp Lee did not drill more
continuously nor industriously.
Their father, who had been a Whig and opposed


484






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


secession until the very last, on Virginia's seced-
ing, finally cast his lot with his people, and
joined an infantry company; and Uncle William
raised and equipped an artillery company, of
which he was chosen captain; but the infantry
was too tame and the artillery too ponderous to
suit the boys.
They were taken to see the drill of the county
troop of cavalry, with its prancing horses and
clanging sabers. It was commanded by a cousin;
and from that moment they were cavalrymen to
the core. They flung away their stick-guns in
disgust; and Uncle Balla spent two grumbling
days fashioning them a stableful of horses with
real heads and sure enoughh leather bridles.
Once, indeed, a secret attempt was made to
utilize the horses and mules which were running
in the back pasture; but a premature discovery
of the scheme ended in such disaster to all con-
cerned that the plan was abandoned, and the boys
had to content themselves with their wooden steeds.
The day that the final orders came for their
father and uncle to go to Rich-
mond,-from which point they
were crdcr-cd to "th- Pc.inl!." -
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with pride the two glittering sabers which he
had allowed no one but himself to polish, that
"Ef them Britishers jes sees dese swodes dee '11
run The boys tried to explain to him that these
were not British, but Yankees, -but he was hard
to convince. Even Lucy Ann, who was incurably
afraid of everything like a gun or fire-arm, partook
of the general fervor, and boasted effusively
that she had actually tetchedd" Marse John's
big pistils."
Hugh, who was fifteen, and was permitted to
accompany his father to Richmond, was regarded
by the boys with a feeling of mingled envy and
veneration, which he accepted with dignified
complacency.
Frank and Willy soon found that war brought
some immunities. The house filled up so with
the families of cousins and friends who were refu-
gees that the boys were obliged to sleep in the
Office, and thus they felt that, at a bound, they
were almost as old as Hugh.
There were the cousins from Gloucester, from







I-I




7 -
::_r= _i


FRANK AND WILLY ATTEMPT CAVALRY PRACTICE IN THE BACK PASTURE."


to ride Frank and Hun, the two war-horses, with
their new, deep, army saddles and long bits. They
cried when their father and uncle said good-bye, and
went away; but it was because their mother looked
so pale and ill, and not because they did not think
it was all grand. They had no doubt that all
would come back soon, for old Uncle Billy, the
"head-man," who had been born down in "Little
York," where Cornwallis surrendered, had ex-
pressed the sentiment of the whole plantation
when he declared, as he sat in the back yard sur-
rounded by an admiring throng, and surveyed


the Valley, and families of relatives from Baltimore
and New York, who had come south on the dec-
laration of war. Their favorite was their cousin
Belle, whose beauty at once captivated both
boys. This was the first time that the boys ever
knew anything of girls, except their own sister,
Evelyn; and after a brief period, during which
the novelty gave them pleasure, the inability
of the girls to hunt, or climb trees, or play
knucks, etc., and the additional restraint which
their presence imposed, caused them to hold the
opinion that girls were no good."


i888.]


485






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


CHAPTER III.

S N course of time they saw a great
S deal of "the army,"-which
meant the Confederates. The
.1.. idea that the Yankees could
ever get to Oakland never
entered any one's head. It
was understood that the ar-
I P my lay between us and them,
and surely they could never
get by the innumerable sol-
1 diers who were always pass-
ing up one road or the other,
..- and who, day after day and
night after night, were com-
ing to be fed, and were rapidly eating up every-
thing that had been left on the place. They
had been coming so long now that they made
scarcely any difference; "but the first time a regi-
ment camped in the neighborhood it created great
excitement.
It became known one night that a cavalry regi-
ment, in which were several of their cousins, was
camped at Honeyman's Bridge, and the boys'
mother determined to send a supply of provisions
for the camp next morning; so several sheep were
killed, the smoke-house was opened, and all night
long the great fires in the kitchen and wash-house
glowed; and even then there was not room, so that
a big fire was kindled in the back yard, beside
which saddles of mutton were roasted in the tin
kitchens. Everybody was "rushing."
The boys were told that they might go to see
the soldiers, and as they had to get off long before
daylight, they went to bed early, and left all the
other boys"-that is, Peter and Cole and other
colored children--squatting about the fires and
trying to help the cooks to pile on wood.
It was hard to leave the exciting scene.
They were very sleepy the next morning; indeed,
they seemed scarcely to have fallen asleep when
Lucy Ann shook them; but they jumped up with-
out the usual application of cold water in their
faces, which Lucy Ann so delighted to make;
and in a little while they were out in the yard,
where Balla was standing holding three horses,-
their mother's riding-horse; another with a side-
saddle for their Cousin Belle, whose brother was in
the regiment; and one for himself,-and Peter and
Cole were holding the carriage-horses for the boys,
and several other men were holding mules.
Great hampers covered with white napkins, were
on the porch, and the savory smell decided the
boys not to eat their breakfast, but to wait and
take their share with the soldiers.
The roads were so bad that the carriage could


not go; and as the boys' mother wished to get the
provisions to the soldiers before they broke camp,
they had to set out at once. In a few minutes
they were all in the saddle, the boys and their
mother and Cousin Belle in front, and Balla and
the other servants following close behind, each
holding before him a hamper, which looked queer
and shadowy as they rode on in the darkness.
The sky, which was filled with stars when they
set out, grew white as they splashed along mile
after mile through the mud. Then the road became
clearer; they could see into the woods, and the
sky changed to a rich pink, like the color of peach-
blossoms. Their horses were covered with mud up
to the saddle-skirts. They turned into a lane only
half a mile from the bridge, and, suddenly, a bugle
rang out down in the wooded bottom below them,
and the boys hardly could be kept from putting
their horses to a run, so fearful were they that the
soldiers were leaving, and that they should not see
them. Their mother, however, told them that this
was probably the reveille, or "rising-bell," of the
soldiers. She rode on at a good sharp canter, and
the boys were diverting themselves over a discussion
as to who would act the part of Lucy Ann in waking
the regiment of soldiers, when they turned a curve,
and at the end of the road, a few hundred yards
ahead, stood several horsemen.
"There they are," exclaimed both boys.
No, that is a picket," said their mother; gal-
lop on, Frank, and tell them we are bringing
breakfast for the regiment."
Frank dashed ahead, and soon they saw a sol-
dier ride forward to meet him, and, after a few
words, return with him to his comrades. Then,
while they were still a hundred yards distant,
they saw Frank, who had received some direc-
tions, start off again toward the bridge, at a hard
gallop. The picket had told him to go straight
on down the hill, and he would find the camp just
the other side of the bridge. He accordingly rode
on, feeling very important at being allowed to go
alone to the camp on such a mission.
As he reached a turn in the road, just above the
river, the whole regiment lay swarming below him
among the large trees on the bank of the little
stream. The horses were picketed to bushes and
stakes, in long rows, the saddles lying on the ground,
not far off; and hundreds of men were moving
about, some in full uniform and others without
coat or vest. A half-dozen wagons with sheets on
them stood on one side among the trees, near
which several fires were smoking, with men around
them.
As Frank clattered up to the bridge, a soldier
with a gun on his arm, who had been standing by
the railing, walked out to the middle of the bridge.


486


[MAY,






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


"Halt! Where are you going in such a hurry,
my young man? he said.
I wish to see the colonel," said Frank, repeat-
ing as nearly as he could the words the picket had
told him.
What do you want with him?"
Frank was tempted not to tell him; but he was
so impatient to deliver his message before the others
should arrive, that he told him what he had come
for.
"There he is," said the sentinel, pointing to a
place among the trees where stood at least five
hundred men.
Frank looked, expecting to recognize the colonel
by his noble bearing, or splendid uniform, or some
striking marks.
"Where?" he asked, in doubt; for while a
number of the men were in
uniform, he knew these to be ... ,
privates.
"There," said the sentry,
pointing; "by that stump,
near the yellow horse-blanket."
Frank looked again. The
only man he could fix upon
by the description was a young
fellow washing his face in a
tin basin, and he felt this could ''
not be the colonel; but he did
not like to appear dull, so he _
thanked the man and rode i 'R'
on, thinking he would go to
the point indicated, and ask -
some one else to show him the '
officer.
He felt quite grand as he -
rode in among the men, who,
he thought, would recognize
his importance and treat him --
accordingly; but, as he rode
on, instead of paying him the
respect he had expected, they
began to guy him with all sorts of questions.
"Hello, bud, going to jine the cavalry?" asked
one. "Which is oldest; you or your horse?"
inquired another.
"How's Pa-and Ma? "Does your mother
know you're out?" asked others. One soldier
walked up, and, putting his hand on the bridle,
proceeded affably to ask him after his health, and
that of every member of his family. At first, Frank
did not understand that they were making fun of
him, but it dawned on him when the man asked
him solemnly:
"Are there any Yankees around, that you were
running away so fast just now? "
"No; if there were I 'd never have found you


here," said Frank, shortly, in reply; which at
once turned the tide in his favor and diverted the
ridicule from himself to his teaser, who was seized
by some of his comrades and carried off with
much laughter and slapping on the back.
I wish to see Colonel Marshall," said Frank,
pushing his way through the group that surrounded
him, and riding up to the man who was still occu-
pied at the basin on the stump.
All right, sir, I'm the man," said the individual,
cheerily looking up with his face dripping and rosy
from its recent scrubbing.
"You the colonel?" exclaimed Frank, suspi-
cious that he was again being ridiculed, and thinking
it impossible that this slim, rosy-faced youngster,
who was scarcely stouter than Hugh, and who was
washing in a tin basin, could be the commander


IN THE NEGROES' QUARTERS.

of all these soldierly-looking men, many of whom
were old enough to be his father.
Yes, I 'm the Lieutenant-Colonel. I 'm in
command," said the gentleman, smiling at him
over the towel.
Something made Frank understand that this
was really the officer, and he gave his message,
which was received with many expressions of
thanks.
Won't you get down ? Here, Campbell, take
this horse, will you ?" he called to a soldier, as
Frank sprang from his horse. The orderly stepped
forward and took the bridle.
"Now, come with me," said the colonel, lead-
ing the way. We must get ready to receive your


487






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


mother. There are some ladies coming and
breakfast," he called to a group who were engaged
in the same occupation he had just ended, and
whom Frank knew by instinct to be officers.


with his coat tightly buttoned, his soft hat set
jauntily on the side of his head, his plume sweep-
ing over its side, and his sword clattering at
his spurred heel, he presented a very different


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m ... . T..-, .





A'i~
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i '1 IN COI,I1AND' SAID THEg GENTL]NM.&NI SMIL1ING AT H1M' OVER THIE TOWEIL,'*


The information seemed to electrify the little
knot addressed; for they began to rush around,
and in a few moments they all were in their uni-
forms, and surrounding the colonel, who having
brushed his hair with the aid of a little glass hung
on a bush, had hurried into his coat and was buck-
ling on his sword and giving orders in a way which
at once satisfied Frank that he was every inch a
colonel.
"Now let us go and receive your mother," said
he to the boy. As he strode through the camp,


appearance from that which he had made a little
before, with his head in a tin basin, and his face
covered with lather. In fact, Colonel Marshall was
already a noted officer, and before the end of the
war he attained still higher rank and reputation.
The colonel met the rest of the party at the
bridge and introduced himself and several officers
who soon joined him. The negroes were directed
to take the provisions over to the other side of the
stream into the camp, and in a little while the
whole regiment were enjoying the breakfast.


488


[MAY,






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


The boys and their mother had at the colonel's
request joined his mess, in which was one of their
cousins, the brother of their cousin Belle.
The gentlemen could eat scarcely anything, they
were so busy attending to the wants of the ladies.
The colonel, particularly, waited on their cousin
Belle all the time.
As soon as they had finished, the colonel left
them, and a bugle blew. In a minute all was
bustle. Officers were giving orders; horses were
saddled and brought out; and, by what seemed
magic to the boys, the men who just before were
scattered about among the trees laughing and eat-
ing, were standing by their horses all in proper
order. The colonel and the officers came and
said good-bye.
Again the bugle blew. Every man was in his
saddle. A few words by the colonel, followed
by other words from the captains, and the column
started, turning across the bridge, the feet of the
horses thundering on the planks. Then the regi-
ment wound up the hill at a walk, the men singing
snatches of a dozen songs, of which The Bonnie
Blue Flag," Lorena," and Carry me Back to
Old Virginia Shore," were the chief ones.
It seemed to the boys that to be a soldier was the
noblest thing on earth; and that this regiment
could do anything.

CHAPTER IV.

AFTER this, it became a common thing for pass-
ing regiments to camp near Oakland, and the fires
blazed many a night, cooking for the soldiers, till
the chickens were crowing in the morning. The
negroes all had hen-houses and raised their own
chickens, and when a camp was near them they
used to drive a thriving trade on their own account,
selling eggs and chickens to the privates while the
officers were entertained in the gret house."
It was thought an honor to furnish food to the
soldiers. Every soldier was to the boys a hero, and
each young officer might rival Ivanhoe or Coeur de
Lion.
It was not a great while, however, before they
learned that all soldiers were not like their favorite
knights. At any rate, thefts were frequent. The
absence of men from the plantations, and the
constant passing of strangers made stealing easy,
and hen-roosts were robbed time after time,
and even pigs and sheep were taken without any
trace of the thieves. The boys' hen-house, how-
ever, which was in the yard, had never been
troubled. It was about their only possession, and
they took great pride in it.
One night the boys were fast asleep in their room
in the office, with old Bruno and Nick curled up on


their sheep-skins on the floor. Hugh was away, so
the boys were the only "men" on the place, and
felt that they were the protectors of the plantation.
The frequent thefts had made every one very suspi-
cious, and the boys had made up their minds to
be on the watch, and, if possible, to catch the thief.
The negroes said that the deserters did the steal-
ing. On the night in question, the boys were sound
asleep when old Bruno gave a low growl, and then
began walking and sniffing up and down the room.
Soon Nick gave a sharp, quick bark.
Frank waked first. He was not startled, for the
dogs were in the habit of barking whenever they
wished to go out-of-doors. Now, however, they
kept it up, and it was in a strain somewhat different
from their usual signal.
"What's the matter with you? Go and lie
down, Bruno," called Frank. Hush up, Nick "
But Bruno would not lie down, and Nick would
not keep quiet, though at the sound of Frank's
voice they felt less responsibility, and contented
themselves with a low growling.
After a little while Frank was on the point of
dropping off to sleep again, when he heard a sound
out in the yard, which at once thoroughly awakened
him. He nudged Willy in the side.
"Willy-Willy, wake up; there's some one
moving around outdoors."
"Umm-mm," groaned Willy, turning over and
settling himself for another nap.
The sound of a chicken chirping out in fright
reached Frank's ear.
"Wake up, Willy!" he called, pinching him
hard. There 's some one at the hen-house."
Willy was awake in a second. The boys consulted
as to what should be done. Willy was skeptical.
He thought Frank had been dreaming, or that it
was only Uncle Balla, or "some one" moving
about the yard. But a second cackle of warning
reached them, and in a minute both boys were
out of bed pulling on their clothes with trembling
impatience.
"Let's go and wake Uncle Balla," proposed
Willy, getting himself all tangled in the legs of
his trousers.
"No; I'll tell you what, let 's catch him our-
selves," suggested Frank.
"All right," assented Willy. "We 'll catch
him and lock him up; suppose he 's got a pistol,
your gun maybe won't go off; it does n't always
burst the cap."
Well, your old musket is loaded, and you can
hold him while I snap the cap at him, and get it
ready."
"All right- I can't find my jacket I '11 hold
him."
"Where in the world is my hat?" whispered


x888.]






TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.


Frank. "Never mind, it must be in the house.
Let 's go out the back way. We can get out
without his hearing us."
What shall we do with the dogs ? Let 's shut
them up."
No, let's take 'em with us. We can keep them
quiet and hold 'em in, and they can track him if
he gets away."
All right; and the boys slowly opened the
door, and crept stealthily out, Frank clutching his
double-barrelled gun, and Willy hugging a heavy
musket which he had found and claimed as one of
the prizes of war. It was almost pitch-dark.
They decided that one should take one side of the
hen-house, and one the other side (in such a way
that if they had to shoot, they would almost cer-
tainly shoot one another!) but before they had
separated both dogs jerked loose from their hands
and dashed away in the darkness, barking furiously.
"There he goes round the garden," shouted
Willy, as the sound of footsteps like those of a man
running with all his might came from the direc-
tion which the dogs had taken.
Come on," and both started; but, after taking
a few steps, they stopped to listen so that they
might trace the fugitive.
A faint noise behind them arrested their atten-
tion, and Frank tiptoed back toward the hen-house.
It was too dark to see much, but he heard the
hen-house door creak, and was conscious even
in the darkness that it was being pushed slowly
open.
"Here 's one, Willy," he shouted, at the same
time putting his gun to his shoulder and pulling the
trigger. The hammer fell with a sharp "click"
just as the door was snatched to with a bang. The
cap had failed to explode, or the chicken-eating
days of the individual in the hen-house would have
ended then and there.
The boys stood for some moments with their
guns pointed at the door of the hen-house expect-
ing the person within to attempt to burst out; but
the click of the hammer and their hurried con-
ference without, in which it was agreed to let him
have both barrels if he appeared, reconciled him
to remaining within.


After some time it was decided to go and wake
Uncle Balla, and confer with him as to the proper
disposition of their captive. Accordingly, Frank
went off to obtain help whilst Willy remained
to watch the hen-house. As Frank left he called
back:
"Willy, you take good aim at him and if he
pokes his head out- let him have it! "
This Willy solemnly promised to do.
Frank was hardly out of hearing before Willy
was surprised to hear the prisoner call him by
name in the most friendly and familiar manner,
although the voice was a strange one.
"Willy, is that you ? called the person inside.
"Yes."
"Where 's Frank ?"
Gone to get Uncle Balla."
Did you see that other fellow?"
Yes."
I wish you 'd shot him. He brought me here
and played a joke on me. He told me this was a
house I could sleep in, and shut me up in here,-
and blest if I don't believe it's nothing' but a hen-
house. Let me out here a minute," he con-
tinued, after a pause, cajolingly.
"No, I won't," said Willy firmly, getting his
gun ready.
There was a pause, and then from the depths of
the hen-house issued the most awful groan:
Umm Ummm Ummmm !! "
Willy was frightened.
"Umm Umm was repeated.
"What 's the matter with you?" asked Willy,
feeling sorry in spite of himself.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm so sick," groaned the
man in the hen-house.
How? What 's the matter? "
"That man that fooled me in here, gave me
something to drink, and it 's pizened me; oh oh !
oh I 'm dying."
It was a horrible groan.
Willy's heart relented. He moved to the door
and was just about to open it to look in when a
light flashed across the yard from Uncle Balla's
house, and he saw him coming with a flaming
light-wood knot in his hand.


(To be continued.)


490



















Marna look
\ ..
:'-" '" -. -''

.-. ^^ ; ,'.'.. . --..




.. nam ,ltoon. ,..-. /' ^ .*^' *"ji""
1 7e little moon '.
L, -kes just l", -. ,1. 'i
"eer "1" C... ,.
nd f it had another linj'
.wotld make the letter (. .
nd i if there was anroth-er n... r .)
put opposite just So -
'wouldJ make another leter th;r ,
and that wo'LlcL be r-a i.
Srink it's funny.thth I see Tmy letters up so i-;
J thou-L.ht they only were on blocks, but there 'they're m the sky .
seem to see them everywhere whenever I'm at ply ; -
lay my drumsticks onr my dlrurm and there's the leLter
Wt dinner when. I sit and play with knives and forks, J see
;All hinds of letters 'roundL ~ iy plate, and
Ahen ridet good and lets me have the clothes--pi on. the foor,
J make | o, and and lots of let-er5 more
Cly papa looks for hours andihours .at letters in a book ,
WJith not a picture there at all at whick I care to look .
I tMhinK that letters are. cuite -nice for little boys hike me;
reut why a (Cman should care -for them. really cannot see




























HIS Grace, the Duke of Noodledom,-
A man of mighty name,
Commander, Conqueror, Sovereign Lord,
Omnipotent, to praise or blame,-
Of honor rightly his, made light,
And yearned to win a different fame.


His Grace the Duke of Noodledom,
A noted wit would be.
Who praised his realm must also praise
His skill at puns and repartee;
And woe to him with eyes too dim
His Grace's famous jokes to see!


Ti






THE DUKE'S

is friends and followers, and the "
rest
Who sought his smiles to win,
Hung on his lips, when pleased
my lord
Some pleasant drollery to
begin,
And met each pause with loud
applause,
Exactly where the laugh
came in.


\ _\
\~ -- --


"They
talked all day,
eZplair)ed
all qibht."


A stranger at the Court, one day,
A man obtuse though wise,
Walked with the Duke, who,--thinking thus
The grave Yacomo to surprise,-
Cracked for his guest his favorite jest,-
A thing to melt the sternest eyes.


JEST. 493

our pardon, Duke," Yacomo
said,
What did Your Grace re-
mark? "
The Duke, amazed, re-
hearsed the joke,
-His brow with gathering
fury dark.
Yacomo frowned, gazed on
the ground,
And, thoughtful, scanned the distant park.









Sg-..- -w,
,A i, i -_. -.., '





- "i-- '- : ___




























Wihile', e arga-ngret re sad.i
Te h 'pl jok I wa haad
,i


















I fear your meaning still I miss,"

The gentlemen who stood about,
Shook in their silken shoes with dread,
While once again, in rage and pain
The hapless joke was hazarded.






THE DUKE'S JEST.


494


hen, when Yacomo silent stood,
Outstormedhisangry Grace:
"What! Not a smile? Dull
fool, your life
Is yours but for a moment's
space !
Down, wretch, and pray Your
head shall pay
For what is lacking in your
face!"

Yacomo fell upon the ground,
My doom is just! said he.
" But, ere I am forever dumb,
One boon I beg, on bended knee;
I pray that I, before I die,
May have the joke explained to me "

'T is well," the softened Duke replied,
I grant your last request.
Go you, my learned ministers,
Elucidate to him the jest.
The executioner, when you
Have made it clear, will do the rest."


They talked all day, explained all night,
The next day, and the next;
Expostulated, argued, urged,
Until their very souls were vexed,
And still he gazed like one amazed,
His brow with anxious thought perplexed.

The weeks went by; the months, the years,
His counselors grew gray.
The man who could not see a joke
Was marked by children at their play.
The Duke was to his promise true,
And waiting, spared him day by day.


nd when at last, His Grace
had made
A final joke, and died,
And Noodledom had quite for-
got-
The wit which once had
0 been her pride,
Still in his cell, alive and
well,
Yacomo rested satisfied.


LITTLE ROSALIE.

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.


IT was a little "play-acting girl," as the chil-
dren's nurse called her. Her name, on the adver-
tising bills posted up at every street corner, was
"LITTLE ROSALIE"; and the great delight of
the children was to be allowed to go to a matinde
on a Saturday afternoon when they could hear and
see her. It made no difference to them who else
was on the stage. Irving, himself, or Booth, Patti
or Nilsson, might have figured there; to the
children they would have been merely as aids to
"Little Rosalie"; there was no play to speak of
till she appeared; or, if there were, it was only be-
cause it led up to her appearance; and, when she
vanished, it was all flat and unprofitable till she
came on again.
When they went home they used to talk over
the afternoon's experience untiringly, by the
nursery firelight and even after they were in
their beds. But the subject of their talk was never
the mystery and excitement of the play, the charm


of the scenery with its lovely landscapes and splen-
did drawing-rooms, the beauty of the leading
lady, the sweetness of the music, the drollery of
clown, or comic man -it was always and only,
Little Rosalie.
Sometimes Little Rosalie was one character in the
play, and sometimes she was another.. Once she
was a moonlight fairy, in a little, white silk gown
whose long folds fell about her feet; her soft hair
was loose on her shoulders, a star gleamed on her
forehead, and another star tipped the lily's stem
she held for a wand; with her eyes uplifted, and
a white light on her face, she sang, and the chil-
dren thought a little angel from heaven would
sing and look in just that way. And then a rosy
light shone on her and made her lovely and lumi-
nous; again this changed to a pale-blue light,
while a mist gathered about her and she seemed
to grow dimmer and dimmer, singing more and
more faintly, and now-she was gone! The


[MAY,






LITTLE ROSALIE.


children knew nothing of the way in which folds of
lace, drawn one afteranot-her between her and them-
selves, had caused her to disappear; all seemed
to be due to Rosalie's own powers and perfections.
And when, in another scene, she came dancing
on in short, gauzy skirts, with two butterfly-wings
of peacock-feathers upon her shoulders and,
springing upon a cloud, went sailing up out of
sight as the play ended with soft music, they
always found it difficult thoroughly to believe
that she was not a fairy indeed; and the next
time they were taken to see her, they felt some
misgivings as to whether she really would be
there. And when she did appear, but as a poor
little street-girl selling trifles from her basket,
then it seemed as if she had been a poor little
street-girl all her life, and that her fairy existence
were all a dream of their own.
What they would have said, at first, if they could
have known that Little Rosalie acted the part of a
street-girl selling trifles for her mother and the rest
at home, in so lifelike a manner, because Rosalie
was in truth and reality working for her own mother
and the others at home, I do not know. They never
thought of her as living a life apart from that at the
theater. It never occurred to them to ask what be-
came of her in the times when she was.not tripping
and dancing hither and -thither in the midst of
colored lights and enchantments; whether she was
packed up and put away with the stage proper-
ties, or whether she lived perpetually in the light
and atmosphere in which they saw her play her
mimic part. But there was no lady in all the
land, nor in all the story-books, nor in all dear
Maidie's histories, nor in all the tales that Aunt
Nan had to tell, who was one tithe as interesting
to them as Little Rosalie. And when they put a
penny aside for their church money and their
missionary money, they were very apt to put two
pennies aside for the ticket that was to be an
' open sesame" to Little Rosalie's domain; and
even their own savings were not enough, but had
to be helped out by Uncle John or Aunt Sophy
- for there were so many of them that they
usually had found it best when they went to the
theater to take a box, and that required quite a
sum of money.
But it was not so very often, after all, that this
indulgence was permitted them. Not half a dozen
times a year were they allowed so great a treat;
but once, for themselves, and with their own
money; and once, because it was Christmas
week; and once, because some lady came with a
young daughter of her own to be entertained; and
once, when their cousins came up from the coun-
try,-and oh, how they wished they had cousins
to come up from the country every week!


No," said Mamma. When you have been
having hard lessons, when Maidie has been strug-
gling with her 'compound proportion'- "
The rule of three perplexes me, and practice
drives me mad,' sang Tom, half under his breath.
"And Tom, laboring over his Natural Philos-
ophy, and Bessy has mastered her complex frac-
tions,' and Fanny learns a new line in the multi-
plication table; and John, and Joe, and all, have
been doing their best;-then I think an excursion
into Fairyland does you no harm, and I let you go
and see Little Rosalie. But if you went as often
as you wish to go,- why, it would be like a dinner
that is all dessert! And that, you know, would
never do."
"I suppose not, Mamma," said Maidie, a little
sorrowfully.
Going to see Little Rosalie," said Tom, is n't
like going to the theater, generally. It 's- "
It 's just because we love her so," said Bessy.
"And wish to see her," added Johnny.
And I really think she knows us now," said
Maidie. "I should have liked so much to throw
her my bunch of violets, if I had dared, the very
last time we were there."
Why did n't you tell me ? said Tom. /'d
have thrown them for you."
"Because I knew you would, I suppose," an-
swered Maidie. "And I did n't know whether it
would do, you know."
': That 's just like a girl! said Tom.
"You don't expect me to be like anything else,
do you?" said Maidie, with her sweet, roguish
smile.
Mamma," said Kitten, returning to the sub-
ject, is she weally alive, or do they only wind her
up and make her go? "
I don't believe she's alive just as we are," said
Fanny. She has those lovely wings, you know."
She does n't have them all the time," said Joe.
She does n't have them when she 's kneeling by
her dying mother, or selling the things in the
street."
"Oh, then," said Bessy, "she's acting! And
the wings are probably folded up under her ragged
gown."
"But I should think they'd show, just a little
bit."
"Well, they don't. Oh, should n't you like to
know her, Maidie, and talk with her once !" But
Maidie was busy just then in comforting Kitten,
who had hit her head against some corner.
The idea! said Aunt Lydia, who did not live
with them, but was calling. I should certainly
be afraid, Margaret, that being so fascinated by
her, they might some time become acquainted with
this child-actor.





LITTLE ROSALIE.


And what if they should ?" said their mother.
"I am acquainted with her."
"You, Mamma, you?" came a chorus. "Oh,
Mamma, you can't mean so!-how did it hap-
pen ?- tell us all about it, please "
Is she a truly person? asked Kitten.
"Does she live in the theater?" asked Johnny.
"Has she a mother, or anybody?" asked Maidie.
"Yes, she is a 'truly' person," answered their
mother. She lives on a street around the corner
a little way from the theater. She has a mother,-
a very sick mother, and an old grandmother, and
a number of brothers and sisters. And she takes
care of all of them."
Takes care ?" asked Maidie, drawing her puz-
zled brows together.
Yes, actually takes care. In the first place,
there is no money for the family but that which she
herself earns. Out of her salary she pays the rent
of their rooms, buys their coal, and all their food,
their clothes, their medicines, and everything else
they have. Of course, they do not have a great
deal. And more than that. This lovely little
fairy creature who seems to you a being of wings
and colors, of light, music, and grace, of danc-
ing, and of miraculous fairy-powers, rises in the
morning and makes the fire, and dresses the
children,- the two youngest are twins,- and they
all are younger than she herself, too young yet
to do any work worth mentioning. Then she pre-
pares the breakfast, and makes her mother com-
fortable, helps her poor old grandmother, and
arranges the rooms. Some of the littler ones help
her in that. And then she goes to rehearsal;
that is, to the empty theater, where they practice
portions of the evening work, with nobody to look
on or applaud."
"Oh, how I should like to be there!" cried
Maidie, "I mean, if all the rest of us could be."
It would n't attract you in the least," said Aunt
Lydia. "All that part of the house where the
audience sits is dark; black cambric covers the
seats, and keeps the dust from the velvet and
gilding; and on the stage the scenes are not set,
so you see only odd pieces of painted boards and
ropes and pulleys; while carpenters and their men
are running about without their coats. The players
are in their everyday clothes, and rattle over their
parts, going through only the necessary motions,
or trying certain of the mechanical effects,-the
things that are done by machinery, you know,-
such as riding away on clouds, or sailing upon a
river, and so on. Oh, they are not at all interesting,
rehearsals," said Aunt Lydia. "You make the
thing altogether too attractive; Margaret."
Well then, rehearsal over," resumed their
mother, with a smile, "our Little Rosalie goes


to market, and comes home, gets dinner and
clears it away. And if she has a new part to learn,
she sits down to study it; and the study is severe,
for she has to learn by heart every word she is to
say, every gesture she is to make, and every step she
is to take. She has to practice her dances, some-
times for hours, and her songs, too. Oh, she works
every day for many hours harder than you ever
worked any hour in your lives. She has also to
make and mend for the others, though the old
grandmother gives some little help; and, when
night comes, the twins and the three other children
put themselves to bed, while off she goes with her
basket of costumes on her arm. Nobody thinks
of troubling her, for all the policemen and people
about there know her and are on the lookout to
see her safely on her way.
"When the play is over she comes out of the
stage-door into the night. It is often snowy and
slippery, or dark and muddy from a heavy rain,
with not a star to be seen, the long reflections of
the street lamps shining on the wet pavements.
Sometimes she has a little supper with her grand-
mother before she creeps into bed, tired out; but
often she goes to bed hungry.
I suppose she may be able to play her fairy
and childish parts for some years yet; for poor
food and not enough of it, late hours and little
sleep, and her hard life, altogether, will perhaps
have the effect of making her grow very slowly,
and-it is probable she will always be rather under-
sized. But her beautiful voice ought to be carefully
trained."
Oh, Mamma! cried Maidie, with tears in her
sweet eyes, I think it is so cruel. If she could
only come and live with us!"
And what would become then of her mother
and grandmother, of her sisters and brothers?
They have nobody but Rosalie to do anything for
them, and would have to go to the almshouse or
die of starvation if it were not for her earnings."
"Oh, I forgot! "
"Papa could take care of them!" exclaimed
Johnny.
Do you think Papa could take care of another
family of eight persons, and educate and bring up
the younger ones "
S" I suppose you think he is made of gold cried
Joe.
"There are people worse off than these," re-
sumed Mamma; "people who have n't even any
Rosalie to earn money for them. And such people
need all the time and money that Papa and I have
to spare."
But it all seems so strange," said Fanny, that
I can't get quite used to it. She lives around the
corner there, in some rooms, and cooks, and sweeps,


[MAY,






LITTLE ROSALIE.


and sews, and has a mother, and brothers, and
sisters, as we do ?"
"Yes; and I suppose her mother's heart aches
to have poor little Rosalie doing so much; no doubt
she often grieves over it. I 've no doubt, too,
that she may feel a sort of terror, dreading what
would become of the other children if anything
happened to Rosalie. So, too, all the children look
upon Rosalie as the one who gives them every-
thing they have, as their protector in short, their


10


A ,


cut his hand and Maidie made him forget the pain
by talking about Rosalie--and she said that per-
haps, when the lights were put out, Rosalie went
down through one of the trap-doors and into a
narrow passage that ran far away under all the
city, and was lighted by a moon at the very far-
thest end; a moon setting in the sea, for the pas-
sage comes out in a cave on the sea-coast; and
that the cave was all lined, on top and sides, with
bell-tones; and every time that the light of the


A-







LITTLE ROSALIE AT HO13E.


guardian-angel. When you saw her in that
singing-play hovering over the children asleep
in the wood, with the great rosy wings arching
up above her head and pointing down below her
feet, you did n't dream that she really was a guar-
dian-angel to so many,-- did you? "
Oh, Mamma," cried Maidie, with tears in her
eyes, and I am of no use at all!" and she could n't
see a word of Bessy's French exercise, which she
had been looking over for her sister, when the talk
began, because of those tears.
I think," said Bessy, I don't like it quite so
well to know about her really, though. Tom said
once that when the play was over she was changed
into a footlight and somebody turned her off, and
when it was lighted again, she stepped out. But
Maidie said that could n't be; it was the night Joe
VOL. XV.-32.


little breaking waves glanced up and struck them,
all the bell-tones were set ringing, and it was little
Rosalie's work to polish off the bell-tones and tune
them and make them ring just right, and when
this was done those tones were what made all the
music in the world."
I did n't believe it," said Johnny. How do
her bell-tones make Mamma's voice sing, I 'd like
to know? "
"How does the sunlight make this fire shine? "
asked Tom, loftily.
Go along with your conundrums You think,
just because you 're in Philosophy, that nobody
else knows anything! "
I said perhaps,' Johnny," said Maidie, gently.
" It was all only 'maybe,' you know."
"Well, I 'm sure Rosalie makes just as much


497






LITTLE ROSALIE.


music in the world in the way she does, as she
could in that way," said Tom.
Can't we go and see her at her real home,
Mamma, or have her come to see us?" asked
Maidie, wistfully.
There it is, Margaret Just as I told you "
said Aunt Lydia.
I am afraid it would do her no good, my dear.
It is no kindness to make her discontented with
her own home. And ours is very different."
"At any rate," said Fanny, "you said we
might go to see her when Cousin Alice comes."
"So I did, if you had money enough between
you for a box."
"It is ten dollars for a box," exclaimed Aunt
Lydia.
But there are so many of us that it is cheaper
to have a box, and in some respects it is more
convenient."
"I don't like a box half so well," said Tom.
"There 's always somebody that does n't see any-
thing."
"Well, it is never you, Tom!" said Aunt
Lydia.
Tom colored up so that it was certain he would
have answered back and spoiled everything, if
Maidie's hand had not stolen gently to his arm.
Still he must say something sharp.
Fan does n't care," he remarked, if I do have
the best seat for seeing, so long as she's in the front
of the box where people can see her long curls."
Oh, I should think you 'd be ashamed, Tom "
cried Fanny. I never wished anybody but
Rosalie to see them."
And we all wish Rosalie to like us," said
Maidie.
"Rosalie's too busy for that sort of thing! "
said Tom, with great contempt.
"I don't know that she is," said Maidie.
"Once-I-I never told anybody,-but once,
when she was so very near our box, you know, I
really did throw her a little lace bag full of choco-
lates-those lovely chocolates that Uncle John
gives us. And she caught it, and looked over
and laughed, and actually slipped one into her
mouth -"
Then they weally do eat chocolates in fairy-
land," murmured Kitten, as she climbed into
Maidie's lap, for as yet she had by no means set-
tled everything clearly in her little head.
"Well," said Tom presently, looking up from
the heavy calculations that he had been making
with a pencil on his wristbands, "we can't go
yet,- unless Aunt Lydia 'chips in'- And
to everybody's amazement Aunt Lydia did 'chip
in' a bright two-dollar-and-a-half gold piece on
the spot.


"That settles it! said Tom. "We could have
borrowed some of our church-money, and let
that wait, but Maidie said it would n't do. Now,-
Nurse, and Aunt Lydia, and Mamma are three,
and all the rest of us are-how many? No mat-
ter; we can all squeeze in, I guess. And I say,
Maidie," and here Tom's voice softened to a whis-
per, have you any more of the chocolates? "
That night, in their little beds in the big bed-
room, most of the children, as usual, could hardly
close their eyes for joy over the expected outing.
Say, Maidie, are you asleep?" whispered Bessy.
"Of course not," answered Maidie. "How do
you suppose I can sleep, when I 'm going over in
my mind the music that Rosalie 's going to sing
and dance to, next Saturday ?"
Oh, what is it like, Maidie ?"
"Yes, what is it like, Maidie "
"Well, it begins like a wind in the woods,-
every little leaf whispers like a flute, and then they
all bend with the wind that comes sighing along,
and that wind is an oboe; you know the oboe. And
it goes sighing along out of sight. And far, far,
far off, the violins are humming, all in a confusion,
and the sound of them grows slower and more dis-
tinct, and you hear it, and it is rain. And then
come long, heavy chords from the violoncellos, that
mean clouds. And, suddenly, the tone of a great,
strong violin goes spurting into the rain and cloud,
and comes leaping and dancing down, and that is
the brook; and then the brass things,--the horns,
you know, and the cymbals and those,- make
everything all sunshine, and the violins soften
down, and you hear harp-tones,-oh, in such a
soft, bright, lovely air! And that is Rosalie, the
Spirit of the Brook, coming on. And she is all in
palest folds of gauze, palest blue, and palest green,
like great blocks of ice; she is sparkling with
jewels, and her eyes and smile sparkle, too,
and-oh, Bessy, how beautiful it is for anybody
to do all the good that Rosalie does in the world!
Oh, if I could only be of use to people -"
"Oh, you are, Maidie dear, you are of the
greatest use to me I don't know what I should do
without you exclaimed her little bedfellow, clasp-
ing Maidie in her arms, and able to speak her
heart fully because it was dark. You see to my
work, and you make up our quarrels, and you get
Mamma to let us do things, and -and "
"But, you see, if I died,- to-morrow, say,-
you would all get along as well without me in a
little while. I 'm not really necessary to anybody.
And she is really necessary just to keep ever so
many people alive, and to bring them up and help
them on in the world. And then, think to how
many people she gives pleasure; and how many
children just count the days, the way we do, before






LITTLE ROSALIE.


they go to see 'Little Rosalie.' How perfectly
lovely it must be to give people pleasure, like that.
Oh, if I could but be as useful in the world as she
is -"
And there Maidie stopped her confidences, for
the faintly murmured assents showed that Bessy
would soon be sound asleep in spite of herself.
What a merry party it was, that set out for the
"Old Prospero" that frosty Saturday afternoon.
Something detained the mother at home; but
Aunt Nan went in her place, and there was Nurse,
and Aunt Lydia, and the door-keeper laughed
to see the rest of them; he did n't pretend to count
them, and so why should I? It is no affair of any-
body but the door-keeper, how many went into
that box; nor that Nurse had a luncheon for Kit-
ten; nor was it even zis affair that Tom and
Johnny did a good deal of pushing and shoving
before finding the seats they wished; nor that Jo
hung over the red velvet cushion in front, to see
whether, if he fell, his head would alight on the
bass-drum or the snare-drum in the orchestra,
while Aunt Lydia clutched at his heels and very
nearly made him fall; nor that Maidie, as usual,
was crowded into the very front corner next the
stage, where, if Joe had fallen, it would not have
hurt him; and where she could see less of the play
than any of the others; where, had she chosen,
she could have climbed over and at a single step
have mingled in the scene; and where she could
see so much of the ropes, and ladders, and coils
of hose, and pieces of scenery, and everything
going on in the wings, that it destroyed a good
part of the illusion.
Maidie laughed though,-she could n't help
it,-when Aunt Lydia, after settling herself, took
a phial of water from her muff.
There!" said Aunt Lydia. Inever go to the
theater without it. For you know if there should
be a fire, and one were in danger of suffocating
from the smoke, only let the handkerchief be wet
in cold water and held over the mouth and nose,
and one can breathe through that and keep alive
a great while longer- "
Nonsense, Lydia! said Aunt Nan. What
do you want to frighten the children for? As if
there were one atom of danger in such a well-
regulated place as this, with all these doors, and
with firemen behind the scenes "
There is always danger, Anna, in the best of
them," said Aunt Lydia severely. And even if
the firemen should put out the fire, the fright, the
crazy panic, that would be caused, would do as
much harm as the fire; for there would be a rush
and a jam, and people would be thrown down and
trodden and squeezed and suffocated to death. I was
in a theater once," she continued, as the children


listened open-mouthed, "when there was an
alarm of fire, and everybody started up, and some
screamed, and some fainted, and great heavy men
in the front rows went walking right over the backs
of the seats oh, we got out alive But I declare I
don't see how There are the Clingstone children,
-little dears,--do you see them, Maidie?"
But as Maidie heard Aunt Lydia her eyes grew
bigger and bigger,- far too big to see anything
so near as the Clingstone children; so big that
she could see only the daily danger in which
Little Rosalie lived; and the terrible thought of it
all, prevented any pleasure she might have taken
in the strange and lovely opening scenes. But
after a while, and when Little Rosalie had come
on the scene, Maidie forgot that trouble in her
present delight. Ain't you glad you comed,
Maidie ?" whispered Kitten; and, taking Maidie's
answer for granted, added with a sigh of content-
ment, So 'm I! But Maidie did not hear her-
she was so rapt in seeing a huge blossom open
and let Rosalie out, to the sound of soft music, all
her fays following from other unfolding flowers.
She leaned far from the box in her forgetful gazing;
and soon it seemed as though Rosalie, whirling
very near in her pirouette, gave them a smile of
recognition, and then none of the children had
either eyes or thoughts for anything but this float-
ing, flashing sylph, swift as a flame and beautiful
as a flower.
At that moment a child down in the audience
cried about something, and diverted from the
stage, for half a thought, the glances of the occu-
pants of the boxes, and of the rest of the audience
as well,--the glances of all but Maidie. In that
brief moment her eye beheld a dreadful sight seen
by but one other person in front of the stage.
Some one on the stage, however, had seen it,
had uttered something, not in the part, to the one
nearest, and the next instant down rolled the
drop-scene and hid the stage from view.
But not a moment too soon. For a spark had
shot out and fallen on some inflammable sub-
stance, and one little flame had sprung up and
another had followed it, racing and chasing up-
wards till a hundred tiny tongues of fire, little
demons, were flying up the inner drapery and far
aloft. At the same instant some one in the back
of the audience shouted Fire "
It is a terrible sound in a crowded building. It
makes the heart stop beating for a second. It made
Aunt Lydia's heart stop beating for that second,
and then she began to cry in spite of Aunt Nan's
calm voice, and to huddle the children together
to rush for the door. But it came upon Maidie
in that moment that if everybody rushed to the
door at once, nobody could get there. Those in


499






LITTLE ROSALIE.


front, she saw at once, would be crowded on and
knocked down by others piling upon them, and all
buried under one another, stifled, and killed,-so
that fire itself could do no more. As the thought,
lightning-swift, ran through her mind, she saw
people rising excitedly in the front, and she knew
there would be a panic the next moment, a rush,
a jam, and fearful trouble. Oh, why was there
nobody to prevent it ? If Papa were but there Oh,
thank Heaven, thank Heaven, he was not,-if there
was no escape! Could nobody hinder? If she,
herself were only of some use And these count-
less children here, whose mothers would be broken-
hearted; and the mothers, who would never see
their homes again,- homes that would be desolate!
This was all realized in two breaths. And in a third
breath the drop-scene was pulled aside a trifle,
some of the orchestra took up the music that had
stopped for only a few beats, and out bounded Little
Rosalie with her long scarf and basket, spinning
and pirouetting half-way across the stage, and
pausing in the middle of the prettiest attitude of
the Great Bonbon Act," while out of the charm-
ing basket on her arm she caught and whirled
hundreds of bonbons as far as her hand could
throw them among the babies in the audience. It
was done in far less time than it takes me to tell of it.
But as one of these very bonbons fell into the box, the
thought rushed into Maidie's mind that the stage
people were afraid of the panic and the crush, and
so had sent Little Rosalie out with the bonbons, to
dance as if nothing were the matter, hoping thus
to distract the attention of at least enough of the
audience to prevent the sudden attempt of so many
to get out at once,-whereby a number would cer-
tainly be killed in the panic,- by making them
think it must be a false alarm if the play could
still go on and this child dance so composedly, and
that in the mean time they themselves were trying
to put out the fire.
For Maidie herself had seen the fire. And she
knew it was actually in there, spirting and spouting
and climbing higher and higher; and she could
hear, from where she was, the breathless move-
ments of those behind the curtain who were trying
to smother it.
But something else rushed over Maidie, too,-
for thought is wondrous quick and full. It was
that if Little Rosalie stayed there another moment
she would herself be burned alive, and then what
would become of the mother and the grandmother
and the twins, and all the rest who had nobody
but Rosalie in the whole wide world And before
Maidie fairly knew what she was doing, and while
poor Aunt Lydia was still clucking and calling to
the family, she sprung up and from the box,- it was
but a single step,-and had run across the stage, be-


fore all the bewildered people, and had clasped Little
Rosalie, crying quickly and softly, as she dropped
her arms, Oh, run, run, Little Rosalie, run! Save
yourself! For I really saw the fire! And," as
Rosalie did not run, what will they do at home
without you, if you are killed here ? And there are
so many of us at home that nobody will miss me
very much! I will stay instead of you! "
Poor Maidie As if her staying would have been
of the least use But she never thought of that.
She only thought that if some child must stay there
it would better be she than Rosalie. And even
while she pleaded, up went the great drop-scene,
rolling to the top, and out flocked all the players
of the scene, and a few of the orchestra, who had
not at first had courage to remain, slipped back
and swelled the music; and a motley throng sur-
rounded Rosalie and Maidie, and whirled them
back and out of sight, and from the front there
came a perfect storm of clapping hands that
was almost terrific. And then a group of the
strangest looking people were caressing Maidie,
and Little Rosalie herself was hanging on her neck
one moment, and somebody took her by the hand;
--she was now pretty thoroughly frightened, and
had a vague idea that she was to be carried out to
the "sea-cave," after all,-and led her round by
some back way to the box again. Here Aunt
Lydia was just resuming her seat and smoothing her
ruffled feathers, but was still quite determined to
go out and take the children with her, as soon as
this could be done without attracting too much at-
tention. The children were quite as determined
not to go. And, indeed, their pleadings finally
carried the day.
But that night Maidie's father came into the
room where she lay in her little bed much too ex-
cited to sleep. It was one of the bravest things
I ever heard of,-Little Rosalie's act," said he.
Such a child as that must not be wasted. And
a subscription is to be taken up that will bring a
sufficient sum to complete her education in what-
ever way is thought best."
Oh, you don't mean so, Papa came a chorus
from all the beds. Oh, how glad I am! And
to take care of all her folks at home, too, Papa? "
"But as for you, my little darling," continued
her father to Maidie, how could you possiblythink
you were of so little use at home as to be willing
to break our hearts by risking the loss of your
life? What if I had come home to-night and
found no Maidie to meet me?" And Maidie
started up and threw her arms about her father,
touched to the heart by her sudden feeling of what
his grief might have been. I want you never to
forget, little daughter," he went on in a husky
voice, that you are of great and important use in


500


[MAY,






LITTLE ROSALIE.


the family. Does not your mother rely on you as
her first aid? Are you not my little comforter?
How are all these children to grow up without the ex-
ample and the care of their eldest sister? Our duties
all begin at home. Heroic actions are great and
admirable. But there are other actions just as ad-
mirable. Among these are the daily acts of duty
done, with which you make life pleasant and easy
for your mother and me, for Tom, for Kitten, and
for all of us. When I remember that I never saw
my Maidie out of temper in my life "


Nor heard her say I can't' when you ask her
to tie your ribbons, or to do your sum, or to find
your needle," added Fanny.
Nor knew her to do anything but to try to make
everybody about her happy, and keep her own
sweet soul white in the eyes of heaven," continued
her father. When I remember this of Maidie, I
think all this daily service is of as much worth as
the one heroic deed that risks life to save the lives
of others."
I don't," said Johnny. I think it's splendid



.iII .. .. .....






S1X


"'OH, RUN, RUN, LITTLE ROSALIE, RUN! SAVE YOURSELF !

"Nor heard her speak rudely to any one," in- to save folks' lives. I 'm not going to do anything
terrupted the listening Bessy. else, when I grow up. Are you, Joe ? Only, I wish
"Nor knew of her telling anything but the truth," I 'd thought before Maidie did, and had begun
cried Tom from the other room. by trying to save Little Rosalie "












MOTHER IS "GOAL."

BY MARY B. BRUCE.


"THE weather is cross," the children say,
"Or else forgets it's a holiday."
Down in torrents the cold rain pours,
No chick or child may peep out of doors.

Good little scholars, the school week through,
On Saturday pant for something to do.
And when the fun begins to flag,
What is so fine as a game of tag ?


Over the carpets go nimble feet,
Boyish laughter peals loud and sweet.
" Mother is goal the racers cry.
To mother in turn the racers fly.

Dear little sons, in life's real race,
When hardest you struggle to win your place,
Pressed by pursuers that mean you ill,
" Mother is goal," be your watch-word still.


A SMALL AND SELECT MAY PARTY.
502














s=--r4
i ____


BY SOPHIE SWETT.


THEY were a very moving family. It seemed,
as Grandma Standwell said, to be a family trait,
like a quick temper, or a Roman nose. It began
with the very first Standwells they knew anything
about, who came over from England in the third
ship after the Mayflower." Grandma said she
never could understand how they escaped coming
in the very first; -but Grandma was not of
Standwell blood. They made up for any time
lost in not doing so by moving all over the colony
in the first two years, in spite of (or, perhaps,
generally on account of) poverty, and bears,
and Indians. They went like inch-worms, a
little way at a time; so, although the success-
ive generations had kept on moving, the fam-
ily had reached only Connecticut when Grandma
and Grandpa were married and settled down
to--moving. Grandpa had a book that told
all about the prowess of his ancestors in those
early days, and they really were very valiant
people; but Grandma never seemed to be im-
pressed with anything but the number of times
they had moved. Once she had been heard to
say that if she had read that book before she mar-
ried Grandpa,--but that was when the moving-
men dropped a frying-pan upon a piece of Sivres
china that was an heirloom from her French
ancestors.
Grandma had moved twenty-nine times. She
counted them up one day after she and Grandpa
gave up housekeeping and went to live with their
son Arad. Maria, Arad's wife, groaned; but the
children, Peter and Polly, and Dave and Nan, and
little Lysander, thought it must have been rather
good fun.
Grandpa said he could n't see how they had
happened to move so many times; for he was
sure he was never one that liked to move;
but there was the time that Nancy (that was


Grandma) said the roof of the old house a
Hammersfield never could be repaired so that
it would n't leak; and the time she said she
could n't live any longer in the house with her
cousin Jane, because there was always the smell
of frying doughnuts, and Jane would argue
against "'piscopalians"; and the time she said
they ought to move to Hartford on account of
the schooling privileges-" certingly, she did."
Grandpa always said certingly" when he wished
to be very impressive.
Grandma laughed; she was very good-natured
and could laugh even about such trials, and said
she believed the moving-disease was conta-
gious, as well as hereditary. Arad's wife said she
did hope Arad never would have it, and Grandma
said she did n't know but she should die, if he did.
Arad said, somewhat to the disappointment of the
children, that there was n't the least danger. He
had almost paid for the house they lived in, and
he was n't going to move until he could buy a
brownstone front on Fifth Avenue. Grandma
said, with a sigh of relief, that would not be in her
time.
The children immediately went into the back
yard and played "moving"; and Nan, who was
"realistic," sacrificed her second-best tea-set to
imitate the fate of Grandma's Sivres china.
They lived uptown in New York, and they had
-only think of it! an apple-tree in their back
yard. A great, gnarled, wide-spreading apple-
tree that looked as if it had strayed from a country
orchard, but which made the best of the bit of sun
and sky and air that it could get, and blossomed
and bore fruit as industriously as if it realized that
its responsibilities were greater even though its
privileges were less than those of a country apple-
tree.
It was the family Calendar; everything dated


~i.?~ ~;
c. :bg
-~r ;8nas~~. L
-'-






A MOVING STORY.


from "the year when the graft first bore," or
from "the year when they had seven barrels of
apples," or the year of the May frost that killed
half the blossoms." The trunk was covered with
notches where the children measured their growth;
they said it was quite wonderful how the tree
came down to them; even little Lysander found
that it was not half so tall as it was when he was
small. Each had his own seat among the crotches
of the great boughs. Peter's was away up, almost
out of sight; but it was not little Lysander, but
Polly, whose seat was on the lowest bough, for the
tree never came down to Polly.
I don't know quite how to say it--they were
all so sensitive about hearing her called a dwarf--
but the truth is that Polly had never grown at all
since she was six years old; which was the result of
a spinal deformity. She was now almost thirteen,
and although she was comparatively well she
would never grow any taller. But Polly was not
unpleasant to look at, although her shoulders
were far too broad for her height, and were a
little, only a very little, rounded. She had a
pretty, yellow, curly-thatched head, and a pair of
cheerful, brown eyes through which a merry and
loving heart sent its bright beams. Oh, play
something else, children, and don't talk about
moving. Only think, we should have to leave the
apple-tree!" cried Polly, sitting down on the
broad doorstep where the sunlight sifted through
the apple-tree boughs upon her yellow head.
If you were to die and go to Heaven, you would
have to leave the apple-tree," remarked practical
Nan, to whom, in truth, an apple-tree more or
less in the world did not seem of great account -
except when the apples were ripe.
"Do they have them there, Polly? asked little
Lysander, anxiously.
I don't know, dear," answered Polly, a little
wistfully.
It seemed strange, but only just a month
after Grandpa and Grandma came to live with
them, Papa Standwell came home one night
and said they were compelled to move. An old
friend, whose note he had indorsed, had failed
to pay, and he was obliged to sell the house to
meet the indebtedness; otherwise, he should fail
in business. That misfortune would be so much
the greater that, after the first shock, his wife
began to feel quite reconciled. She had suspected
that Arad was troubled about something, she said,
and it had worried her so much that now she was
really thankful that it was nothing worse. After a
while she quite brightened up over the prospect of
another house; it would be a hired house and
smaller even than this, for they must be very eco-
nomical now, but some things she would be sure


of: the door of the dining-room closet should n't
open the wrong way, so that one was obliged to shut
another door to get into it; and there should n't
be a dark bed-room; nor a ridiculous old-fashioned
paper, all over lambs and shepherdesses, on the
walls of the spare chamber. It would be a comfort
to have a more modern house, altogether; she had
never wished Arad to buy this one, which began
to look quite ridiculous among the handsome new
blocks of brick houses. Grandpa-well, he had
been accused of looking longingly at the laden
furniture wagons that went rushing about on the
first of May, so he said very little, but he cer-
tainly was surprisingly cheerful.
The children were hilarious, all except Polly. It
seemed to her too bewildering, too dreadful, to be
true. She stole away by herself up into her apple-
tree seat to think it over. How could they live in
another place ? It was almost too much for Polly's
imagination to grasp. That closet door was
troublesome, especially when one was in a hurry;
and the dark bed-room was certainly pokerish -
little Lysander entertained the opinion that a
Huggermugger giant had a permanent residence
there--but what a triumph it was when one first
dared to go in there alone It was used as a store-
room for goodies, which was the reason, perhaps,
that little Lysander's belief was not more sternly
discouraged, and there was a mysterious fascination
even about its faded chintz portidre, with a pattern
of blue peacocks. In one corner was kept the
great bag of chestnuts which Uncle Amos sent
them every autumn; Polly had not yet ceased to
be proud that she dared to go, all in the dark,
and get them to roast in the evening. As for the
"shepherdess" paper in the spare chamber, Polly
thought that perfectly beautiful; it had beguiled
many a weary hour of illness for her, and the
shepherdesses and their sheep seemed almost like
old friends. It had never troubled her mother
seriously until Aunt Caroline, who was rich and had
had her house decorated" by an artist, said it
was "impossible."
Good or bad, every inch of the house, every nook
and cranny, was home. Polly could n't possibly
see how they could ever have another one.
And their apple-tree Would it live on just the
same, shooting out its tiny, woolly buds, which
appeared so miraculously in the spring, after old
Boreas and Jack Frost had bent and beaten and
snapped its bare branches, until it seemed impossi-
ble that the tree could have any life in it? Would
it put forth its blossoms, making a pink and white
glory of itself, and perfuming the whole neighbor-
hood, getting up the loveliest of mimic snow-
storms, and then setting its firm, round little
apples that would grow plump, and spicy, and red-


[MAY,


504






A MOVING STORY.


cheeked,- and they not there ? Polly felt as though
her heart were breaking.
Grandma missed her, and came in search of her.
She laughed at her and scolded her, and insisted
that she, being young, ought to enjoy the prospect
of a change; and all the time tears were trickling
down her own soft, wrinkled, white cheeks.
"Bless the child, I 'm afraid she 's like me,"
said Grandma to herself, as she went into the


Polly, who usually had been first and foremost
when "good times" were in prospect. She could n't
be made to understand that moving was a good
time." It could n't be because she was so old;
for Grandpa, who was nearly eighty, was as pleased
as any of them.
Little Lysander was one day overcome by a pang
at the thought of leaving the apple-tree, but he
was speedily consoled by Nan's reported discovery


THE STANDWELL HOUSE TAKES A FINAL MOVE. (SEE P. 508.)


house. "But she'll get over it. Moving is a
toughening process."
One day Papa Standwell came home and said
that, after all, they need n't move unless they
chose, as the man who had bought the house
wished to let it. But that was after they had
almost decided upon a house, further down town,
and in quite a fashionable street; and Mamma
Standwell said, that since they would be obliged to
pay rent anyway, they might as well pay for a house
that suited them; and since the change had been
decided upon she had been discovering, every day,
other defects in the house beside the closet-door,
and the dark bed-room, and the "shepherdess"
paper,-until she quite wondered how she could
have been contented to live there.
No one observed how Polly's face brightened,
then darkened again pitifully, unless, indeed,
Grandma may have done so.
The children did n't know what to make of


of a candy-shop just around the corner from the
new house, where chocolate "Jim Crows" were
sold two for a penny. Little Lysander felt that
such a neighbor could assuage even a deeper grief.
When the day of the "flitting" came, they all
felt a trifle sad. When they saw the rooms looking
so forlorn and desolate, they remembered all the
good times they had had there, but there was no
time to indulge such emotions for the children had
to run here and there at every one's bidding. Peter
was obliged to mount guard over his collection of
butterflies and birds' eggs, to see that they were
safely loaded; and Nan had all she could do to
protect her dolls' house, which already had one of
its chimneys broken by being packed carelessly
upon the load. Mary Ann, their one servant, gave
immediate warning because "moving made a re-
spictable gyurrl too remarkable' and Dandy,
their precious pug, whose peace of mind had been
destroyed by the arrival of Grandpa's dog, Ranger,





A MOVING STORY.


decided that the old order was now changing quite
too much for his endurance, and ran away. They
never saw him again.
Sarah, the cat, securely fastened into a stout
basket, was carried to the new home by Peter; but
objected so vociferously all the way that a crowd
gathered, and Peter was seriously embarrassed.
They thought their trials would be over when
they were fairly in their new home; but Mamma
Standwell declared that she found them only just
begun. For, nothing would fit; their newest fur-
niture looked shabby; the chimney would n't draw,
and the plumbing was out of order so that the floors
had to be taken up,- and there was n't a bit of a
back yard! Peter mourned a broken gun, and
Nan's Paris doll had been crushed in its box and
transfixed by the poker, so that its sawdust strewed
the street!
Grandma consoled them by saying they would
know better how to pack, when they had moved as
many times as she had.
The homesick ones, Grandma and Polly, tried to
make the very best of it, but little Lysander roared
mightily because he "felt as if he were somebody
else," and the cat disappeared and was found, after
a long search, in the apple-tree at the old house,
a mile away, meowing piteously.
After all, they lived in that house only six months
and a half, for Papa Standwell failed in business in
spite of his effort to prevent it. He tried to secure
some work in the same business, because he knew
nothing of any other, and, after much waiting and
worry, work was offered him -in Chicago.
Mamma Standwell was not happy about this
moving. She said one moving had taught her a
lesson, and she was sure she should never find a
house so charming as their old one.
Grandma openly wept this time, but she said it
was some comfort that no one could say they were
going like inch-worms," now.
Grandpa was joyful, although in a subdued way.
He said he had always meant to move out West,
when he was a young man, and he talked about it
to Peter and Dave until they felt that their lives so
far had been wasted, because they had n't lived in
Chicago.
Polly did n't seem to mind it very much, any-
way. She had grown quiet and listless; she was
no longer first and foremost in good times. Her
mother said the child must take cod liver oil.
The house in Chicago had a back yard; and,
although there was no apple-tree in it, there was
a great heap of ancient and dilapidated theatrical
properties--masks, tin swords, gilded crowns,
and tinsel ornaments, which went far to mitigate
the children's pangs of home-sickness. They were
all a little homesick this time, for there was no


familiar face or scene. And Peter would n't be a
king; he said he did not feel equal to playing any
part but The Man Without a Country."
Before they had lived there three months, Papa
Standwell discovered that they were on the wrong
side of the city. He wished he "had known more
about Chicago" before he came, and declared the
location positively unhealthy. So they moved.
Grandma said that was apt to be the way when
people once began.
Mamma Standwell did n't care so much, now,
whether things fitted or not. She said they had all
lost the "home-feeling," and it did n't seem worth
while to try to make the house pleasant.
. Papa Standwell was becoming discouraged; he
said his work was like a treadmill; that it did not
agree with his health; that the physicians told
him that an outdoor life was the only thing for
him; and he had heard of an opportunity to buy,
" for a song," a prairie farm, away out at Big
Bear Creek. The children thought the name very
promising; they could n't find it on the map, but
they discovered that it was in the region of Indians,
and cowboys, and buffaloes, and Dave thought
that now life was to be "like a story-paper,"-
in which particular he had hitherto been disap-
pointed. Peter, with spirits quite restored, tried,
in the privacy of his own bosom, to decide whether
he should be a cattle king or a "silver mill-
ionaire." Mamma Standwell shed a few tears,
but said she supposed she ought to be reconciled
if it would be better for Arad's health ; and per-
haps the change might do Polly good, too.
Grandpa, in the best of spirits, helped little
Lysander to knot up the new clothes-line to make
a lasso for buffaloes. Grandma said, trying her
best to be cheerful, that there was one good thing
about it they should have a home of their own
again, and not be likely to move.
Papa Standwell laughed, and said they could n't,
for there was no where to move to; and they could
not come back because he should have spent all
the money on the farm.
It was along, longjourney; railroads and stages,
and even houses and people, gave out before they
reached the end ; and around them there were only
great prairies, rolling and rolling like the waves of
the ocean, and away off, as far as the eye could
reach, they rolled into the sky. There was only
now and then a tree,- a forlorn, scrubby little tree,
which, Peter said, looked as if it had moved from
somewhere.
It was somewhat disappointing that there were
no bears; it appeared that little Lysander had
expected to see them in great numbers, along the
road and up in the trees, all quite amiable and
waiting to be taught to dance, like the bear which


506


[MAY,






A MOVING STORY.


for him represented the entire species-one he
had seen in the circus.
Polly confided privately to Grandma that she
had hoped for an apple-tree.
But it was some compensation that the creek
was almost a river; and that there were Indians,
peaceful and friendly (which was disenchanting to
Dave), but quite attractive in appearance; for,
although one wore a commonplace tall silk hat,
he had stuck a feather into the band, and draped
a gay blanket over his suit of shiny broadcloth.
It was spring, and there were great fields of
grain already green, and promising abundant
harvests. The house was comfortable; and in
the barn, beside cows, and oxen, and horses, was
a charming little Texan pony for Polly, and when
he went scampering over the prairies with her on
his back, really a faint, rosy color came to Polly's
cheeks.
The boys were somewhat cast down because there
were no enemies to conquer, "save winter and
rough weather."
"There ain't no b'ars round here, nor no fighting'
Injins this side of Liberty Gulch," said Uncle
Peter Ramsdell, their nearest neighbor, who lived
five miles away, but who hastened to pay a
neighborly visit upon their arrival. "But Nater,
she gets on the rampage once in a while and makes
things lively. I 've fit b'ars and I 've fit Injins,
and they ain't nothing' more 'n trifles compared to
Nater when she gets a-goin'! I expect you 've
heard tell of cyclones? Jake Cam'ell, that lived
' here before you did, he made that kind of a dug-out,
back in the field, and he scrambled into it, with his
whole family and his stock, about every time he
see a cloud. But these few years back the cretur's
gone tearin' off to the south'ard, without so much
as givin' us a touch of its hoofs, and I hope to
mercy it will keep a-goin' that way. It laid Carter
City level with the ground, except the meet'n'-
house,- and it ketched that up and tossed it
into the river."
So that's what that great square hole is for,"
said Dave. We supposed some one had dug a
cellar, meaning to build a house. I wonder if we
shall ever scramble into it ? "
Privately Dave was of opinion that it might be
fun, for indeed he understood what a cyclone
was but little better than did Lysander, who had
gathered froin Uncle Peter Ramsdell's discourse
a vivid impression that it was a wild beast with
four horns and a fiery tail.
They were on the lookout for one, for several
weeks; and then they gradually forgot about it.
They ceased to take any notice of passing clouds,
and the dug-out was used as a play-house. Nature
sent them long, golden days, and just enough


soft, warm rains, as if she were thinking of nothing
but their harvests; and seemed il -...: ,e i so lovely
and gracious that they could not believe she would
ever get on the rampage," as Uncle Peter Rams-
dell had expressed it,
In the late summer Grandpa had a stroke of
paralysis, and that drove everything else from
their minds. Poor Grandpa he could still
speak, and retained his senses perfectly, but his
limbs upon one side were useless. He was very
patient and cheerful; but he said he had begun
to think that perhaps the land was better in the
next county, on the other side of the creek, and if
Arad should ever wish to move there, he hoped
he should n't be any hindrance. Grandma laughed
and cried, and said she hoped she had n't com-
plained too much, and declared she would be
willing to move to the ends of the earth with him
if he could.
One day in September, Papa and Mamma Stand-
well and Grandma went to Young America, shop-
ping. It was a twenty-mile drive, and they started
at daylight. Their maid-of-all-work, Uncle Peter
Ramsdell's niece, had been summoned home be-
cause her mother had erysipelas, and Polly was
left in charge of the children and of Grandpa.
Peter and Dave were in the pumpkin-field, when
Dave, looking up suddenly, said:
Is n't that a queer-looking little cloud just
above the horizon? It's like a cannon-ball,-so
round and black."
Peter turned pale as he glanced at it, and
dropped the pumpkin he held, and started at a
run for the house.
"It's rushing toward us See how it grows !
It 's a cyclone, Dave he cried while he ran.
Polly 1 Polly !" they shouted as they came
near the house. "Get into the dug-out, you and
little Lysander, quick! We 're going to get the
cattle in. There 's a cyclone coming! "
Polly caught up little Lysander, who had been
building a Tower of Babel and had his hands full
of blocks, and ran -to the dug-out, as well as she
could with such a burden. Nan was already there,
with her best doll and her pet rabbit, and the tin
cooky-box. Little Lysander cried for his kitten,
and Polly ran and brought it. The cattle and
horses were frightened, and Polly's pony would
have broken away if she had not soothed and
caressed him.
The sky was growing dark, and there was a
stillness that seemed frightful.
Now I am going back to stay with Grandpa.
I 've tried to think of some way toget him here,
but we can't; he is too heavy. Take care of them
all, Peter! "
They tried to dissuade her.






A MOVING STORY.


"You can't do any good! You are foolish,"
cried Peter.
He 's old and ill, and he is frightened," said
Polly, as calmly as if she herself were not trem-
bling in every limb. She heard a distant rushing
and roaring as she closed and barred the house-
door.
"Polly! Polly! don't leave me alone!" cried
Grandpa Standwell, half rising from his couch, as
no one supposed he could. "But you 'd better
go, child You 'd better go! he murmured the
next moment, falling back helplessly. "What
does it matter about an old man like me ?"
"I shall stay, Grandpa. Don't be afraid," said
Polly, stoutly. She threw her arms around his
neck, and waited.
In the dug-out Peter and DaVe found it a hard
task to quiet the frightened animals. Old Mac, the
strong farm-horse, trembled, and the oxen lowed
pitifully.
Little Lysander's kitten escaped from his arms,
scrambled out of the dug-out, and ran away.
I 'm going after it! said Nan. "There '11
be time- "
"Stay where you are!" said Peter, sternly.
Hardly were the words out of his mouth, when
there was a great blackness, a rushing, a roaring,
and a crash Little Lysander said afterward that
he felt the sky come down and hit him. Breathless
they crouched in the bottom of the dug-out.
As the noise was stilled the atmosphere cleared,
and gradually the sky brightened.
Peter was the first to look out.
Was it the same place, or had they been blown
away?
There were no cornfields, no fences. Where
were the house and the barn?
The house has moved away cried little Ly-
sander.

Papa and Mamma Standwell and Grandma,
driving home from Young America, were only a


few miles out of the course of the cyclone, and
their hearts were almost bursting with suspense and
fear when they met Uncle Peter Ramsdell.
There's a house that looks to be your 'n clapped
down, all stan'in', t' other side of the creek; and
your barn was goin' down river, till it got driv'
ashore down by the bend. I would n't take on, if
I was you, for the cretur has often hove things
'round like that without hurting' a hair of the folks's
heads that was in them said Uncle Peter.
They found that Uncle Peter understood "the
cretur," for Grandpa and Polly were safe and
sound. Grandpa was cheerful, even jocose: and
said he had moved again in spite of them !
The shock to Polly's nerves caused a longfainting
fit, and at one time they feared that Polly, as little
Lysander remarked innocently, would find out,
now, whether there were apple-trees in Heaven."
But Polly has lived to own a great apple-orchard
in this world. It is planted on the spot to which
the cyclone carried them, for it was Government
land, where any one could take up a claim. It was
more fertile than that from which they had been
taken, nearer to neighbors, close to a church and
school. Uncle Peter Ramsdell insisted upon buying
their old farm on the other side of the creek. He
said he wanted it because a cyclone, like lightning,
was not apt to strike twice in the same place.
Their barn, which had sailed down the creek,
was moved back to its place beside the house; and
although the barn had to be entirely rebuilt,
part of the hay was unhurt, and there, on the hay-
loft, was little Lysander's kitten, sound in body,
though disturbed in mind.
Grandpa maintained that the cyclone had done
them a good turn, the new location was so much
more desirable than the old.
To the best of my knowledge and belief, and ac-
cording to the latest advices, they are living there
still, and I hope they always will; but I think, with
Grandma Standwell, that when people once begin
to move-














GIRARD COLLEGE.

BY ALICE MADE FENN.


WAS utterly unpre-
pared for the sight
that met my eyes
when I drove through
the wide lodge gates
of Girard College.
Within a wall sur-
rounding forty acres
of land, were nine


buildings of white marble,
the main structure looking
like a restored Greek temple.
Half-a-dozen gardeners were
at work on some magnificent
flower-beds, and as I glanced ,t .
along the avenues and over F
the perfectly kept lawns, I 4
wondered if it were possible
that nearly fourteen hundred
boys were ever let loose in
this great garden.
Was this the home that
Stephen Girard designed for
"poor white male orphans?" J
The playgrounds were
alive with boys, of all sorts
and sizes, running, scream-
ing, playing, or talking to-
gether in groups. Suddenly
a bell rang. Every noise
ceased, and in less time than
it takes to describe it, the merry boys were all in
file and marching away to the dining halls, in the
most orderly and soldier-like manner.


There are two dining-halls, one seating eight
hundred and the other, four hundred. I know of
some boarding-schools where the pupils would be
very much surprised and delighted to sit down to as
good a dinner as was served on the day of my visit.
While the roast beef and pudding were rapidly dis-
appearing, the thought of the orphans in "Oliver
Twist came tome. There each boy had abasin of
gruel and no more,- The bowls never wanted


IN THE WORK-ROOM.

washing. The boys polished them with their
spoons till they shone again; and when they had
performed this operation they would sit






GIRARD COLLEGE.


staring at the copper with such eager eyes,- as if
they could have devoured the very bricks of which
it was composed; employing themselves mean-
while in sucking their fingers most assiduously,











h ,,m
,.. -






..
l! L t -










-. ^ .-,.


with the view of catching up any stray splashes of
gruel that might have been cast thereon." In
contrast to this account, I will cite some items of a
collation given on the anniversary of Girard's
birthday: 900 quarts of ice-cream; 3480 eggs;
350 pounds of lobsters; 18 boxes of raisins; 250
pounds of almonds; 50 bunches of bananas; 18
boxes of oranges.
But they do more than feed boys at Girard.
The course of study includes Algebra, Trigonom-
etry, Geometry, Surveying, Navigation, Chemis-
try, Natural History, French, Spanish, Book-
keeping, and Drawing; and, lately, Type-writing
has been introduced.
Technical instruction in working in metal and
wood is also a recent addition. There is no at-
tempt to teach a trade or to secure a product,
but effort is made simply to accustom the pupils
to the use of tools. The Mecharical building
cost about $93,000, and it is supplied with the
best machinery procurable. The boys show a
decided preference for carpentering, over working
in metal. Even the youngest among them do
very careful, creditable work.
Every day the boys spend four hours in the play-
ground. Each Saturday afternoon in the summer,


there is a base-ball match, the college nine play-
ing against the various clubs of Philadelphia and
the vicinity. There is much excitement as the
score of the Girard nine rises or falls, and rous-
ing cheers from the thirteen hundred eager par-
tisans welcome every fine play. The club uniform
is red, white, and blue, and generally eclipses in
glory that of any opponent.
Every Friday afternoon the cadet battalion, com-
manded by its Major, drills in full uniform oppo-
site the main building. The boys present a fine ap-
pearance and perform some of their military maneu-
vers with precision and accuracy. Their uniforms
and rifles are of the latest patterns and finest make.
The band is one of the best features, though some
of the little fellows are almost hidden behind their
drums, and have to stretch their small legs to keep
step with the older musicians. In the winter they
drill in the Armory, which is quite spacious enough
for the practice of the various exercises directed
by the Major, in that unintelligible shout used by
all military officers.
Close to the main building is a very handsome
monument erected to the memory of the Girard
graduates who were killed during the war. Around
the base are the words:
ERECTED, A. D. 1869,
To perpetuate the memory and record the services of pupils of
this College who, in the then recent contest for the
preservation of the American Union, died
that their country might live.
Fortunati omnes Nulla dies
Umquam memory vos eximet aevo."*
"Especially I desire that by every proper means a pure attach-
ment to our republican institutions shall be formed and fostered in
the minds of the scholars."
This second quotation is an extract, from Girard's
will, in reference to the educational system to be
adopted. On Decoration Day the battalion always
pays due honors to the memory of its brave prede-
cessors. The monument is draped and decorated
with flowers, and at noon the cadets form in a
square, around it. An address is made by some
prominent military man.
There is one great objection in the minds of
many people to Girard College. This arises from
the fact that the founder directed that no clergyman
of any sect, for any purpose, should ever pass
the lodge gates. Therefore every visitor has to
sign both name and profession before he is allowed
to enter. There is an amusing story told of a
stranger who presented his permit and asked to be
shown over the college. According to the rule he
wrote his name and, after it, Minister to Brazil."
The lodge-keeper immediately looked severe and
solemn, and remarked:
"It is a law, sir, of Girard College, that minis-
ters can not be admitted."


*A literal translation of this Latin inscription reads: Fortunate all ye! No day shall e'er remove you from a mindful age."






GIRARD COLLEGE.


It is an erroneous supposition that Girard made
this rule because of prejudice against religion, as
can be proved by an extract from his will, which
reads as follows:
"I enjoin and require that no ecclesiastic, missionary, or minister,
of any sect whatever, shall ever hold or exercise any station or duty
whatever in the said college; nor shall any such person ever be
admitted for any purpose, or as a visitor, within the premises appro-
priated for the purposes of said college. My desire is that all the
instructors and teachers in the college shall take pains to instill
into the minds of the scholars the purest principles of morality, so
that on their entrance into active life they may, from inclination and
habit, evince benevolence toward their fellow-creatures, and a love
of truth, sobriety, and industry, adopting, at the same time, such
religious tenets as their matured reason may enable them to prefer."
There is a chapel in the grounds where short
service is held twice every day. A hymn is sung
and a prayer is offered by the President or Vice-
President. It is an interesting sight to see almost
fourteen hundred boys take part in the simple
service, and join in the hymn as if they enjoyed
singing. Occasionally, one or two mischievous
boys have to be suppressed, but as a rule all are
orderly and attentive. On Sunday a short ser-
mon is delivered, prominent laymen of the city
or distinguished visitors making the address. I
once heard a relative of Livingstone, the great


Girard, and some have even entered the min-
istry.
The President of the College is undoubtedly the
right man in the right place. He is young enough
to enter into the feelings of the boys, and yet a
man who must inevitably command the respect of
all. The very expressions of the students as they
greet him is enough to assure any outsider that
the pleasantest relation exists between President
and pupils. He has a wonderful memory, and can
tell you the name and standing of nearly every
one of the fourteen hundred boys at a moment's
notice. The most hardened little offender, whom
the teachers may find incorrigible, usually leaves
the President's room softened and sorry, with
every good impulse strengthened by his quiet
talk with the man who takes the place of father
to so many hundreds of fatherless boys. Every
day the President uses at his own dining-table a
napkin-ring upon which is engraved, "From a little
friend." This was a gift from the sister of one
of the boys as a token of gratitude for the Presi-
dent's kindness to her brother, and I know that it
is valued more than the finest that could be bought.
An applicant for admission to the College must


in II I 4I jTi


it,"l
IMP .- I b cr l
7 1lp


Jinrrd QojleveE


explorer, speak at the college. He introduced
enough stories and incidents to interest and attract
the boys, and thereby held their eager attention.
Many of the boys join churches after leaving


be more than six, and less than ten years of age.
Preference is given, by the will of Girard, in the
following order: To the children born in the city
of Philadelphia; to those born in the State of


''I





-'1.


~------

.~ii






GIRARD COLLEGE.


Pennsylvania; to those born in the city of New
York; to those born in the city of New Orleans.
The boys remain at the college until they are
eighteen. They are not allowed to wear a uni-
form, except as cadets. Each pupil has three
suits of clothes; one for "every day," one for Sun-


and a very few who are really unworthy. Occasion-
ally some ringleader will incite several of the boys
to run away. Last winter three little fellows thus
disappeared, and much time and money were spent
in tracing them to New York, where they were
finally discovered, half-starved, forlorn and cold,


A BALL GAME ON THE PLAY-GROUNDS, GIRARD COLLEGE.

day, and one for visiting. They have fresh linen in a soap-factory. Their deplorable appearance
twice a week, over two thousand of their shirts, when they reached the college, for a while de-
alone, going to the laundry every week. The cost terred even the most adventurous from attempting


of educating, maintaining, and clothing each pupil
is about three hundred and twelve dollars annually.
On leaving the institution, every boy receives an
outfit of clothing of the value of fifty dollars.
I believe there are two United States Senators
who were formerly Girard boys, as were many
other now prominent men. The architect who has
lately been at work on the college also was once a
student there. Of course, there are all sorts of boys
among so many; some who finish their course with
honors, some who are mischievous and naughty,


to seek their fortunes in that manner.
A few particulars about the main building will
not be without interest. It is a large building in
the classical Corinthian style; the outer wall is
formed by thirty-four columns, the bases of which
are over nine feet in diameter. The columns them-
selves are six feet through, and each column weighs
one hundred and three tons, and cost thirteen
thousand dollars. They are sixty-six feet high and
surmounted by elaborate capitals. I looked very
carefully at these capitals when I was told that each


[MAY,






GIRARD COLLEGE.


represented one man's work for a year. Little
huts were built in the grounds in which the carv-
ers could do their work protected from the inclem-
ency of the weather.
After climbing the great marble steps, one passes
,the huge iron door, and stands face to face with
the statue of Stephen Girard, behind which is a
sarcophagus containing his body. An Assyrian
sarcophagus, made for some king, had been sent
from the East for Girard's body, but his exec-
utors decided that the simple marble tomb would
be more appropriate. The two marble staircases
leading from the hall are of unusual construction;
the end of each step is secured in the wall, and
-only an edge rests on the step below. When a
party of Sioux Indians, who visited the East some
time ago, were shown about the college, they re-
fused to mount this stairway, which seemed to pro-
ject from the wall without support.


a-dozen boys hard at work here during play-hour.
The library is also in this main building. Nine
thousand volumes and various papers and maga-
zines, including ST. NICHOLAS, are provided for
the use of the pupils.
In the "Relic-Room" is a collection of quaint
furniture and other things once belonging to Gi-
rard. His old one-horse gig stands there beside
a few old pieces of fine furniture, and there are
piles of boxes containing papers relating to his va-
rious ships. A story is told of a party of Quakers
who came to the college, and asked, in the manner
peculiar to them,- that is, using only the first
name,- to see Stephen's old clothes." There
happened to be a Professor Stevens teaching at
the time, and so the strangers were conducted to
his house. There a servant opened the door, and,
in answer to their query, said: Mrs. Stevens is
out, but you can find all the old clothes in the


THE GRAPHIC ROOM GIRARD COLLEGE.
THE "GRAPHIC ROOM," GIRARD COLLEGE.


One of the most interesting class-rooms is the
"Graphic Room," where the boys draw from the
round," that is, from the object, instead of from
another picture. The model is placed in the cen-
ter of a large circular table, around which are two
rows of adjustable desks. I have often seen half-
VOL. XV.-33.


garret." It was not until they had climbed several
flights of stairs to behold the cast-off coats of the
learned gentleman, that they discovered their mis-
take, and explained that they were not old-
clothes men," but visitors wishing to see the relics
of Stephen Girard.






GIRARD COLLEGE.


Stephen Girard was a remarkable man, and one
who certainly holds a place among the prominent
men of America. He was the son of a distinguished
naval officer, and was born in Bordeaux, France,
in the year 1750. When still a little fellow, he
lost the sight of one eye. He was burning oyster-
shells in a bonfire, and a hot splinter flew into the
most sensitive and vital part of his right eye.


I



SI -- ....
-7 ;- --- { ({ 11
_g






THE STATUE OF STEPHEN GIRARD IN THE VESTIBULE OF THE
MAIN BUILDING.

He was a restless, energetic boy, never content
to remain at home. When he was fourteen his
father purchased a half-interest in the cargo of a
vessel, and sent Stephen to sea in the novel ca-
pacity of half-owner and cabin-boy. At the age
of twenty-three, he was captain of the ship. In
1774, he sailed for New York, and, in 1776, first
arrived in Philadelphia. In the latter place he was
very successful in all his ventures, and so the
Quaker City became his home. For some strange
reason he was regarded with suspicion and dislike
by his fellow-citizens, who seemed jealous of the
success of the fortunate and skillful Frenchman.


f;--
:- ---

Bi:r'J


[MAY,


He believed strongly in work, for every one, and set
all his employees an example of steady industry.
Girard was a man who would not brook dis-
obedience. He sent a young supercargo to the
Dead Sea in charge of a cargo, with orders to sell
it at a port which he named. The enterprising
young man, finding he could make $6000 more by
selling his cargo at another port, did so, expecting
to please his master by his business capability, and
proudly handed Mr. Girard the extra thousands.
But the Frenchman, so far from showing delight,
informed the officer that this disobedience would
compel him to dispense with his services in future.
In 1793, the yellow fever broke out in Philadel-
phia. There were four thousand and thirty-one
deaths in the city from the first of August to
the ninth of November. Here the nobility of
Girard was shown, for when many of the rich
fled, he remained and performed most humble
and self-sacrificing offices for the sick and the
dying, devoting many hours every day to nurs-
ing in the hospital. In Mr. Ingram's "Life of
Girard" is quoted an extract from the United
States Gazette of 1832, in which a merchant re-
cords that he saw a carriage drive up to a house
during the pestilence. A short, thick-set man
stepped from the coach and entered the house,"
and on emerging from it "his arm was around the
waist of a sick man, whose yellow face rested upon
his shoulder, as he carried the invalid, and the
sick man's feet were "dragging helpless along
the pavement." He was driven to the hospital
in the carriage of the man whom Philadelphia
looked upon with dislike. A few years later
Girard opened a bank bearing his own name. We
learn from Ingram, that during the war of 1812
" Girard's bank was the very right hand of the
national credit, for when other banks were con-
tracting, it was Girard who stayed the panic by a
timely and liberal expansion,-and frequent were
the calls made upon him by the Government for
temporary loans, which calls were invariably re-
sponded to immediately." In 1814, Girard risked
his whole fortune, at a time when all the prominent
capitalists held back and failed the Government in
its time of need.
Girard was a warm friend of Joseph Bonaparte,
the brother of Napoleon I. They dined together
very often in the merchant's quiet home in Phila-
delphia. Prince Murat and Baron Lallemand were
also intimate with Girard, who had few friends
among the natives of the country of his adoption.
When he died, in 1831, at the age of eighty-one,
the city gave him a public funeral. Flags were
hung at half mast, and a civic procession marched
through the streets to do honor to his memory.
Girard married a lovely Philadelphia girl, who,






GIRARD COLLEGE.


after some years, lost her reason. They had probably be as many as two thousand in a few
no children, which is probably the reason why years from now.
this lonely millionaire formed the idea of leav- The estate, from which the college draws an
ing his enormous wealth to benefit children. He income of almost one million dollars annually, con-
at first purchased land for the proposed college sists of 18,297 acres of land, of which about one-
in what is now the heart of the city; but later fourth are coal lands. The quantity of coal from


N.THE .RO A L SEE _.-_._


IN THE RELIC-ROOM OF GIRARD COLLEGE. SEE PAGE 513.


secured the property upon which the college is
situated.
The will contains page after page of most
minute directions intended to secure the well-
being of the orphans. The buildings were be-
gun in 1834 and finished in 1847, and cost the
enormous sum of nearly three millions. Forty
years ago the college was opened for the re-
ception of one hundred pupils, and there will


these mines, from the time of their owner's death,
to 1883, was 16,953,196 tons. The immense block
of coal, weighing three thousand two hundred and
fifty pounds, that was exhibited at the New Orleans
Exposition, came from the Girard collieries.
I think even this slight sketch of so remark-
able a man as Stephen Girard will make the boys
of America agree with me that he was a man
worthy of respect and honor.

























- I ':r -: ,


'1.. ,' '



(From the Russian of A alexander Pushkin.)


THE mighty Oleg of the wars,
Preparing still for fray,
Went forth to meet the wild Hasars,
And their misdeeds repay.
Bright the Byzantine mail he wore,
And proud the steed that Oleg bore.


As near the forest's edge he rode,
He met an aged seer,
Who in the gloomy shades abode,
Perin alone to fear.
Devout and wise, this hermit old
The future's mysteries foretold.


" Magician, by the gods beloved,"
Said Oleg, '' speak my fate !
Shall I be soon to rest removed ?
That joy my foes await.
Fear not, but say the truth to me,
And yonder horse shall be thy fee."


BY HENRY TYRRELL.

Heed thou my words: Thy name is sung
For deeds of valor great.
Thy shield in triumph thou hast hung
Upon Byzantium's gate.
Thou dost command o'er lands and seas;
Thou 'rt envied of thine enemies.


Upon the wave, in tempests high,
Thine seemed a charmed life.
Arrow and lance have passed thee by
Amidst the battle's strife.
Thy armored breast did never feel
Perfidious assassin's steel.


And thou dost ride a worthy steed -
Courageous, gentle, proud.
To battle's storm he gives no heed,
He courses like a cloud.
A nobler creature ne'er drew breath;
Yet from that horse shall come thy death."


" I fear no prince," the sage replied, A shadow passed o'er Oleg's face;
And all thy gifts I scorn. A silence grim he kept.
The tongues of prophets are not tied Aside he mused a little space,
Their words are heaven-born. Then from his saddle leapt,
The future years lie dim in mist, And leaned, with mournful tenderness,
But thy clear brow by Fate is kiss'd. To give his horse a last caress.
Perin, the Jupiter of Russian mythology.
5x6






PRINCE OLEG'S DESTINY.


SFarewell, old comrade tried and true,
For we must part at last.
Go take the rest that is thy due -
Thy glorious days are past.
Forget me not! Henceforth my feet
Thy golden stirrups shall not meet.


Years passed. The troublous wars had ceased.
Prince Oleg and his band
Were merry at a mighty feast,
Their silver cups in hand.
White-haired, like some grand snow-crowned hill,
They talked of glorious combat still.


I.. r -


i iI i ii I
S I I. I I '
,1 i'
I ,, I ~ i,' I',

I 1 Ii''' 'i
"I ',I, '
"' I I! "' '


"AS NEAR THE FOREST'S EDGE HE RODE,
HE RMET AN AGED SEER.


" Ho, friend! conduct my horse away -
I leave him to your care.
Caparison and carpets gay
For him, and choicest fare."
He was obeyed. The Prince bestrode
Another steed, and onward rode.


" My horse! -my battle-comrade bold -
Where is he? Oleg cried.
Is he as fiery as old ?
As full of strength and pride ?"
They answered, Long ago his bed
Upon the grassy hill was made."


517


': ,i
'S1 ';






PRINCE OLEG'S DESTINY.


In sorrow drooped the Prince's head.
Old sorcerer," thought he,
But for thy false prediction dread,
My horse alive might be."
Then to his followers he said:
" Come, we will see where he is laid."

He went, with Igor* by his'side;
The warriors followed soon,
To where; beside the Dnieper's tide,
The horse's bones were strewn.
Rain-bleached were they, with sand o'erlaid
Tall feather-grasses o'er them swayed.

Said Oleg, On thy lonely.bed,
My comrade, softly sleep.
No blood of thine, when I am dead,
Igor was the nephew and successor of Oleg.


My ashes cold shall steep." f
The while his musing thus he kept,
Upon the skull he lightly stept.

Unseen, a serpent glided out;
Up at the Prince it sprung;
Tightly it wound his leg about -
Then Oleg started, stung !
"Ah, here my peril lurked! cried he.
My steed has held my destiny."

Again the foaming cup goes round;
'T is Oleg's funeral.
Igor and Olga on the mound
Sit, while the warriors all
Below are gathered on the shore,
Still talking by-gone battles o'er.
t Horses were sacrificed on the graves of the pagan Russian princes.


A-


7i n


GINSENG-HUNTING.

BY JOHN BURROUGHS.


I WONDER how many country boys, or how
many city boys who spend their summer vacations
in the country, know the ginseng, and have tasted
its sweet, pungent, aromatic root? It is in many
respects the most famous plant that grows in our
northern woods, because its root brings two dollars
a pound, and hence it is sought more than any other
plant. The Chinese believe it has rare medicinal
virtues, and buy all that is gathered in this country.
It is said that in China the native root, before the
introduction of our ginseng, was worth its weight.
in gold.
In nearly every back-settlement in New York


and New England may be found one or more
ginseng-hunters, half-wild men, who support their
families in a precarious sort of way, by fishing,
hunting, and looking for wild-honey and ginseng.
I shall long remember two ginseng-hunters that
passed my camp in the Catskills near the close
of a summer day. They paused, and we had a
little chat. I never should have guessed their
occupation, nor what there was in their bags, had
they not told me. They had been roving all day
in the woods, up and down the mountain-side,
searching for ginseng. And their search had been
rewarded by several pounds each. They were both


I MAY,





GINSENG-HUNTING.


armed with a short-handled tool, apparently made
from one of those long, curved-necked, pointed
hoes. The hunters had a decided woods-y flavor.
Last summer, while we were staying in the
Catskills, we heard of one man at the head of the
valley who, in a single day, had gathered eight
pounds of the root. Another man crossing the
mountain from our house gathered a two-quart
pail full. My little boy suggested that we might
go ginseng-hunting. If we did not get more than
five or six pounds, it would add considerably to
S his bank-account.
So, one bright afternoon in early September,
we set out for the mountain. I had never seen
the growing plant, but felt sure I should recognize
it from the botanical description. They told us
at the farm-house that we should be more likely
to find it in the vicinity of bass-wood trees. Our
course took us through the pasture, into the
sugar-bush," and thence up into the primeval
forest that still clothes the sides and summits of
most of these Catskill mountains; sugar-maple,
the master-tree, easily dominating all others; next,
yellow-birch, more shaggy and unkempt; then
beech; and then bass-wood,
most trim and smooth-shaven
of all. Bass-wood is a tall and '-
stately tree, but it is not of
the sturdy, heroic type. Its .
S wood is soft, softer than pine,
and decays quickly. The large
old trees are very likely to be
hollow, some of them with a
cavity like that of a great water- ._ e
main. Out of these trees the
farmers used to make their
leach-tubs. What countryman
has not seen a bass-wood
leach-tub, perched upon a
broad flat stone, slightly tilted,
and standing somewhere in
the rear of the house, or wood-
pile ? Into its great cavity the -r
ashes were put, and, at the
annual soap-making, were
leached, and the lye boiled in
Sa large kettle which stood near.
Out of these hollow bass-
wood trees also has been made ROOT
many a bee-hive -rustic hives,
as pleasing to the eye as the old style of straw
hives, and as warm and acceptable to the bees.
'; But now one may travel a long way without seeing
any of these things.
We scan the ground everywhere for the signs of
S the plant of which we are in quest, expecting first
to catch sight of its bunch of red berries. Wild


sarsaparilla, a plant belonging to the same family,
was very common, but it lacked the scarlet fruit.
Jack-in-the-pulpit, or wild turnip, attracted us from
a distance by its red fruit; but only for a moment.
Here and there, we paused to look into the open
door of a woodchuck's hole, but never could tell
whether the chuck" was at home or not. In these
mountains are real woodchucks, not yet enticed
from the ancient domains of their race to the
open fields and meadows. They should be wilder,
more supple, less fat and gross than their cousins
of the open, and I think they are. These dwell-
ers in the woods can climb trees. One day while
walking through the woods I heard my dogs
barking fiercely, and on going to them found
they had driven a woodchuck up a pine-tree. The
trunk of the tree was straight and limbless, but
the bark was rough. By means of the rough bark
the animal had climbed about fifteen feet, to where
there was a single dry limb. Over this he had thrown
one paw and was thus holding on, and looking
down at the dogs. His hold was so slight, and he
was so nicely poised, that I saw he must surely
fall if nudged a little with a stick, but whether I


LEAVES, AND FRUIT OF THE GINSENG PLANT.

gave him the fatal nudge or not, I decline to say.
We peered into many openings of hollow trees,
to discover if perchance a "'coon" lived there.
In one we kindled a fire; but the smoke found
no outlet at the top, and came back into our faces.
Still no ginseng. We were far up the mountain-
side, beyond the range of the cattle, except in


519






GINSENG-HUNTING.


seasons of drought. Glimpses of farms and settle-
ments and villages, in the valleys below us, could be
had here and there through the tree-tops, but the
dash of scarlet amid the green that was to guide us
to the ginseng was yet undiscovered.
A group of thrifty yellow-birches, their straight
forms thickly hung with rags and rolls of thin, crisp,
paper-like bark, detained us. With a match they
were quickly singed of their curly locks. Up and
up leapt the flame, till, for a moment, the main
branches, and even one tree itself, seemed doomed


to appear in its bark. Any peculiar flavor or prop-
erty which it may possess is there concentrated.
From this point we took an oblique course down
the mountain-side toward the upper fields, having
abandoned all hopes of finding ginseng.
But as it so often happens that after we have
ceased to look for, or to expect a thing, lo, there it
stands before us, so in this case, when we were
within a rod of the open fields, my eye caught the
brilliant bunch of berries rising from the center of
three wide-branching, compound leaves, and I knew


Ii>


2~ 11
i-- -


f .3.1
..'.

f,,
r--


r-~ ~


GINSENG-HUNTERS,


to destruction. But a minute more, and the flame
is out, and the tree uninjured, save perchance where
a few of its tender, green leaves have felt the effects
of the heat and smoke. Further along we find
another yellow-birch, prostrate, and all decayed ex-
cept its bark. This was nearly intact and held the
rotten fragments together, as if it had been a coat of
mail. We gathered large sheets of it, after ripping
it open with our knives, and took it home with us for
kindlings. What virtue there is in a tree is sure


the plant we were seeking was before us. If there
was any doubt about it, the sweet, pungent flavor
of the thick, fleshy root settled the matter. Where
there was one there ought to be at least another,
we said, but we explored the locality in vain for
its fellow. We bore this one home in triumph,
and its dried root I carried in my pocket for
months, and whenever I wished to have a pecu-
liarly agreeable taste in my mouth, I would gently
nibble it.


TO MY BOY-ON DECORATION DAY.

BY ALICE WELLINGTON ROLLINS.

IF ever the dread day should come again Myheart sinks as Iwatch them through the glass;-
When the whole country needs her boys in blue, And yet I know one thing were worse to bear:
How could I bear, dear lad, among the men That underneath my window they should pass
Marching to war and danger, to see you? And I should look-and find you were not there.


520




















4 -- 1ii-. I- ': --- '
BY CELIA THAXTER.

MADAME ARACHNE sat in the sun at her door. -
From a spider's point of view she would have been
considered a plump and pleasing person, but from ,". -
Sa human standpoint she had perhaps more legs
than are necessary to our ideal of beauty; and as
for the matter of eyes, she was simply extravagant,
having so many pairs that she could see all round
the horizon at once. She had built her house
across the pane of a window in a light-house, and
sat at her door, in all the pride of possession, pa-
tiently awaiting flies. The wind from the south
breathed upon her pretty web, and rocked her to
and fro. Many tiny midges, small as pin-heads,
flickered and fluttered and stuck to the web. Ft
Madame did not stir for them.
Bah !" she said; "such small-fry Why i.i A- ''" I
a fly of proper size come this way?" '
The sea made a great roaring on the
rocks below, the sun shone, it was a lovely
day. She was very content, but a little
hungry. Suddenly a curious small cry, or call, star- '
tled her; it sounded as if some one said, Yank,
yank, yank !" My goodness! cried she, what
can that be?"
Then was heard a sharp tapping, which shook
her with terror much more than the breeze had
shaken her.
She started as if to run, when, "Yank, yank, I
yank! sounded again, this time close above
her. She was not obliged to turn her head; hav-
ing so many eyes, she saw reaching over the top





.-- ''''- ^





[* Arachne, pronounced A-rack-ne, was the name of a Greek girl who is said to have been transformed into a spider for presuming to
contend with Minerva for supremacy as a spinner. From this name the class in which spiders are included is called ArachZNida."





[MAY,


MADAME ARACHNE.


of the window a sharp, black beak and two round
black eyes belonging to Mr. Nuthatch, who also
was seeking his supper, woodpecker fashion, and
purposed to himself to take poor Mrs. Arachne for a
tidbit. There was barely time for her to save her life.
She precipitated herself from her door by a rope
which she always carried with her. Down, down,
down she went, till at last she reached the rock be-
low; but Nuthatch saw, and swept down after her.
Her many legs now served a good purpose,-she
scampered like mad over the rough surface and
crept under the shingles that lapped over at the
edge where the foot of the light-house met the
rock,--and was safe. Nuthatch could n't squeeze
in after her,-he probed the crack with his sharp
beak, but did not reach her; so he flew away to
seek an easier prey. After a while, poor Madame
Arachne crept out again, and climbed to her win-
dow, looking all about with her numerous eyes
while she swung. Ugh the ugly monster "
she whispered to herself, as she reached the pane
where her pretty house had been built,-no vestige
of it was left. He had fluttered about in every
corner of the window, and with wings and feet had
torn the slight web all to pieces. Patiently Madame
Arachne toiled to make a new one; and, by the
time the sun had set, it was all finished and swing-
ing in the breeze as its predecessor had done. And
now a kind fate sent the hungry web-spinner her
supper. A big, blustering blue-bottle fly came
blundering against the glass. Presto! Like a
flash, Madame had pounced on him, with terri-
ble dexterity had grabbed him and bound him
hand and foot. Then she proceeded to eat him at
her leisure. Fate was kind to the spider; but alas,
for that too trustful fly! Presently she sought
the center of her web and put herself in position
for the night. I suppose she was n't troubled with
a great deal of brains; so it didn't matter that
she went to sleep upside-down! She was still a little
agitated by the visit of Mr. Nuthatch, but she
knew he must have gone to roost somewhere, so
composed herself for slumber.
Ah, how sweet was the warm wind breathing from
the sea; how softly the warm blush of the sunset
lay on rock, and wave, and cloud! She heard a
noise within the light-house,--it was the keeper
lighting the lamps in the tower; she heard a
clear note from the sandpiper haunting the shore
below. "He does n't eat spiders," said she;
"there is some sense in a bird like that! He eats
snails and sand-hoppers, that are of no account.
One can respect a bird like that!" The balmy
summer night came down, with its treasures of
dew and sweetness, and wrapped the whole world
in dreams. Toward morning, a little mist stole in
from the far sea-line, alight and delicate fog. The


light-house sent long rays out into it through the
upper air, like the great spokes of some huge
wheel that turned and turned aloft without a sound.
The moisture clung to the new-made web. "Bless
me," cried Madame, looking out, "a sea-turn, all
of a sudden! I hope I shan't catch a rheumatism
in my knees." Poor thing As she had eight legs,
and two knees to each leg, it would have been a
serious matter indeed!
At that moment, there came a little stifled cry, and
a thump against the glass of the lantern high above
her, and then a fluttering through the air, and a
thud on the rock beneath. What was happening
now? She shuddered with fright, but dared not
move. She could not go to sleep again; but it was
almost morning.
At last the pink dawn flushed the east, the light
mist stole away with silent footsteps, and left the
fair day crystal-clear. Arachne still clung to her web,
which was beaded with diamonds left by the mist.
She did not know that Lord Tennyson had writ-
ten about such a web as hers in a way never to be
forgotten. He was talking about peace and war,
and he said:
"The cobweb woven across the cannon's throat
Shall shake its threaded tears in the wind no more."

Her web was only woven across a window-pane
from sash to sash, but it shook its threaded tears
in the wind, that morning of late summer, and was
very beautiful to see; but not so beautiful as the
poet's thought.
She wondered what could have happened,--what
the sound could have been,which had frightened her
in the night. She crept to the edge of the window-
ledge and looked down,-'t was too far, she could
not see. By her convenient rope, she swung her-
self down to the rock and was startled at what she
beheld. There lay her enemy, Nuthatch, stone-
dead, with his pretty feathers all rumpled, in a
pitiful plight indeed. He had seen the long ray
from the light-house top and, dazzled, had flown
toward it, taking it for sunrise, followed it with a
rush, and struck his head against the clear and
cruel glass. That was the end of poor Nuthatch !
"Well, well!" cried Madame Arachne, "upon
my word, I'm glad you 're dead! Now I need n't
be afraid of you. But what a silly thing That's
what all creatures do who have wings; they flut-
ter and flutter around a light till they are banged
or burned to death. Better have nothing but legs.
Who would want wings? Not I! No sensible
person would."
Such is spider-wisdom.
She climbed her rope, hand over hand, and
reached her airy dwelling. There she proceeded
to bestir herself in the early morning. High in a






MADAME ARACHNE.


Ii


/


S. 111. i ..l.. . i.. .... ... -.. .





saw white loam on the rocks, as she sat in llhe sun. Days came, in
passed, winds blew, rains fell, mists crept in and out, and still
watched for flies, with more or less success; till at last out craw
SIbaby-spider to the air, and another, and another-so small they were h
to be seen -till nearly all the eggs were hatched. They stretched their
legs, cramped from long confinement; they crept hither and thither,
wondered at the big world-of one window-pane !
Good-morning, my dears," said Madame, I hope I see you well "
Every day, from the inside of the light-house, three pairs of childish
watched this interesting spider-family. As the tiny ones grew la
they began to build for themselves little webs in each corner of
-pane; and each small dot of a spider put itself in the midd
i ts web, head downward, like the mother, and they all swur
the breeze and caught midges,- which were quite big en
for them.
"Did you ever see anything so comical?" said one chi
1 wa another. "They all behave just like their mother. How qu
they learn how to live after they creep out of that little
''a which is so small we hardly can see it! How closely all
t long legs must be folded up in such a tiny space I wond
'-;' ---.-e i'i all insects know so much as soon as they are hatched !
-31 i',u rt a s d isin
,| ';-'/' I "It' '' "Insects!" said the older child, "but a spider is n




: : --



A_


in it
and
went
either

, she
rights
1 she
led a
hardly
Stiny
and


eyes
rger,
every
le of
ig in
ough

ild to
.ickly
egg,
those
]er if

't an


insect at all! Don't you remember how Papa read
to us once that spiders belong to the Scorpion
family ?"
Oh, a scorpion must be a horrid thing !" cried
the younger, "-a real scorpion I 'm glad they
don't live in this country. I like the spiders ; they
spin such pretty webs, and it 's such fun to watch


them. They won't hurt you if you don't trouble
them; will they, sister? "
Of course they won't," said the little girl's
re-assuring voice.
Madame Arachne heard them discussing her
and her affairs. They are good enough creat-
ures," she said to herself. "They can't spin webs,


- ~-,.- I. i --~-~- ii- ..-- a l.-Is ati n-~ -n





MADAME ARACHNE.


to be sure, poor things I But then these three, at
least, don't destroy them, as that odious Nuthatch
did. They seem quite harmless and friendly, and
I have no objection to them,-not the least.
So the little spiders grew and grew, and spun
many and many a filmy web about the old white
light-house for many happy days.
But, late in the autumn, a party of merry birds,
flying joyously through the blue heaven on their
way south, alighted to rest on the rock. They
filled the air with sweet calls and pretty twitterings.
Many of them were slim and delicate fly-catchers,
exquisitely dressed in gray and black and gold
and flame. Alas, for every creeping thing!
Snip! snap! went all the sharp and shining
beaks,- and where were the spiders then? Into
every crack and cranny the needle-like beaks were
thrust; and when the birds flitted away, after a
most sumptuous lunch, not a spider was visible
anywhere. It was one grand massacre,- yet,


again Madame saved herself, behind a friendly
shingle; and some days afterward the children saw
her creeping disconsolately about her estate in the
light-house window.
But the little island soon had another visitor in
the shape of Jack Frost, Esq,, who came capering
over the dancing brine, and gave our poor friend
so many pinches that she could only crawl into the
snuggest corner and roll herself up to wait till the
blustering fellow should take his departure.
"She 's quite gone," said one of the children, as
they looked for her, one crackling cold day.
"Never mind," said the eldest. Spring will
wake her up and call her out again."
And so it did.
Now, would you like to know how I happen to
have found out about Madame Arachne and her
adventures? I will tell you, dear children. I was
one of the little folk who watched through the old
light-house window and saw them all.


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RAN AWAY TO HOME.


BY NOAH BROOKS.


I ,',, HARLIE RED-
MOND was his
I, ', name, and he
Slivedinabigold-
fashioned house
i in the old-fash-
ioned town of
Airport, on the
Penobscot Bay.
., To this house
l .- W there often came
an old-fashioned
Saunt of the fam-
ily, Mrs. Dorcas
Joslin, who resided in Doesport, some eighteen
miles up the river from Fairport. She was a
sort of Lady Bountiful, and whenever she came
to the Redmond House she brought with her
goodies and queer little knick-knacks for the chil-
dren. There were eight of these young Redmonds.
Charlie was the youngest of the whole brood.
Once upon a time, when Charlie was eleven
years old, it caine to pass that after much discus-
sion he was allowed to go to Doesport to pay a
visit to good Aunt Dorcas. The lad had never
before been away from home in all his life; no, not
so much as for a night. The prospect of going to
Doesport to stay a week was very delightful to this
small traveler; and when they set out in the old-
fashioned stage-coach, Charlie's excitement was so
great that he could hardly sit still.
I wish I had a picture of the boy as he looked at
that time, for it would be curious to my readers to
see how a boy of eleven was dressed in those far-
off days, for all this happened in 1842. He wore
low shoes and long stockings. His small trousers
came to just below the knee, where a white cambric
ruffle, fastened on the inner edge with bastings of
thread, made a delicate finish to the legs. His
jacket was a roundabout, coming down to a point
behind, and embellished in front with a double
fow of brass buttons, known as "bell buttons,"
shaped exactly like balls of brass. His collar, con-
fined at the neck by a broad black ribbon, was of
cambric muslin, very wide and bordered by a full
ruffle. On his head the little man wore a low-


crowned white beaver hat, from beneath which
flowed the flaxen ringlets of a lad who was esteemed
in his times "one oftheprettiestboys of Fairport."
It is needless to tell here of Charlie's happy
journey to Doesport; how he caught enchanting
glimpses of the Penobscot River winding among
the green hills, and how he saw strange villages
of which he had only heard, and which had seemed
to him as far off as Timbuctoo, or Nova Zembla.
Let it suffice to say that the stage-coach duly
arrived at Doesport, early in the afternoon, having
accomplished the eighteen miles of hilly and stony
road in five hours.
The first survey of Aunt Dorcas's premises did
not rouse Charlie's enthusiasm. There was a long
walk in the middle of a garden in front of the house,
bordered with hollyhocks and sweet-williams; but
outside of these were cabbages and other vege-
tables growing vigorously. To the small critic's
taste, this was not nearly so nice as the beautiful
lawn in front of his mother's house in Fairport.
Aunt Dorcas's cottage, which he had- somehow
pictured in his mind as very fine, was extremely
small; and when he got inside of it he noticed a
stived and moldy smell, as if the honeysuckles
and woodbines that covered the house had kept
out light and air.
It was a very quiet house ; so quiet that when
Master Charlie went to bed that night, after a very
unsatisfactory afternoon, he was scared by the still-
ness. At home, as he knew very well, his big
brothers were at that hour racketing up and down
stairs,-making ready, very unwillingly, for bed.
The Redmond house could not be otherwise than
noisy at bedtime. Here, it was as still as if nobody
were alive. It was very lonely. The truth must
be told,-Master Charlie was homesick. A big
lump rose in his throat; and rolling over on his
face to stifle his sobs he cried himself to sleep.
Next day, he found to his great disappoint-
ment that his best clothes were very much in the
way of his expected fun. His aunt was continually
calling after him to "be keerful of his clothes."
Then there was another thing: The very next
house to his aunt's was so near that the hens be-
longing to the family, the Peabodys, were con-






RAN AWAY TO HOME.


tinually coming over and scratching up the beds
in Aunt Dorcas's garden. This made the good
aunt very angry, and her hired man was obliged
to chase the fowls out with sticks and stones,
many times in the day. And, after a while, Aunt
Dorcas with a tone of reproach in her voice said
she should think Charlie might "spell" Jotham
(that was the hired man's name) in chasing the
hens over the fence. To Charlie, who was the
youngest of eight, this seemed very degrading
business. He had not been used to chasing hens,
except in the way of personal amusement.
And that night, after several unsuccessful at-
tempts to visit the town, which had greatly
attracted him, Charlie was sent on an errand by
good Aunt Dorcas. The Peabody hens had been
unusually troublesome that day, and Charlie was
told to go into Judge Peabody's and say to the family
that unless the Peabody hens were kept at home
Aunt Dorcas's hired man, Jotham, would be
ordered to kill them. This was to Master Charlie
a very mortifying errand. He thought it insulting
to the Peabody family, and cruel toward the hens,
who, being only hens, knew no better.
But he went. Ushered into a pleasant sitting-
room, he saw a happy family assembled around
a table, variously employed; while one Almira
Peabody -whom he had secretly admired from a
distance, was reading aloud. It was a pretty pict-
ure, and Charlie's heart sunk within him at the
thought of disturbing it. He awkwardly declined
the chair that was set for him, mumbling out some-
thing about having lost his ball over the fence, and
got out of the house as quick as he could. Aunt
Dorcas asked him what Judge Peabody had said.
He said, Good-evening,' Charlie replied.
"What else did he say?" demanded Aunt
Dorcas.
"Nothing much," replied Charlie.
"Well, you are a stupid boy. You go right to
bed! And Charlie obeyed her, nothing loath.
When Charlie went to bed the next night, he
thought that the end of his week's visit was a long
way off. He seemed to have been gone from home
at least a year. I must confess that Charlie was
very, very homesick. But, before he again cried
himself to sleep, he resolved that he would run away
to home when the town clock struck ten. When
he awoke again, he was in great perplexity. He
could not even guess what hour of the night it was.
Looking out of the window to see if he could
discover the time by the moon, he beheld a young
man going down the front walk. This person, he
guessed, was visiting his cousin, Maria; for Aunt
Dorcas had an only daughter, a very quiet miss,
and Maria had a beau. This was he, and as he
paused at the gate the village clock struck ten.


Charlie was very much astonished. He had
thought it nearly morning.
Dressing himself quickly, and as quietly as possi-
ble, but keeping his shoes in his hand, the lad
took with him his little bag (a glazed leather
satchel in which were packed a night-gown, a
pair of stockings, a ruffled collar, a tooth-brush,
and some small pocket-handkerchiefs) and crept
down the back stairs, his heart beating so that
all the way along into the kitchen he could hear it
thump. His hat was in the front entry; but the
sitting-room and dining-room doors being open,
he guiltily stole in, snatched it from the table and
retreated.
With eighteen miles between him and home,
Charlie felt that he must provide something to
eat. He had not been in the house for nearly two
days without finding out where the gingerbread
was kept. It was in a big wooden firkin in the
dining-room closet. There was a huge sheet of
gingerbread. Charlie took it, looked longingly at
it, and then broke it in halves. Half, he thought,
would last him to Fairport. Breaking this into
quarters, he stowed one piece under his jacket
and the other in his satchel. Then he stopped to
think. He had been brought up with very strict
notions as to theft, and he felt guilty. He re-
flected that a sheet of gingerbread could be
bought in Fairport for five cents, and of course
some of that was the storekeeper's profit. He did
not believe that his Aunt Dorcas would be willing
to take any profit from him; so, extracting from
his pocket two large copper cents, such as were
used in those days, he laid them softly on the
cover of the firkin, and with a light heart stole out
of the kitchen-door.
Over the fence and into an alley in the rear, then
quickly around the corner into the main street,
and thence along the river bank and into the high-
way leading southward, was the work of but a
very few minutes, and Master Charlie was on his
way home. The moon was still high in the
heavens, but the silvery luster made big black
shadows in the road where there were borders of
alder-bushes and birches. Occasionally he passed
a farm-house, dark and gloomy, sleeping in the
white light of the moon; or a great barn loomed
up beside the road, casting a dense shadow across
his way; or a watch-dog, hearing the patter of
small feet on the highroad, set up a tremendous
barking. It was a lonesome journey. Sometimes
he was sorry that he had started. He was ready
to turn back; but then he thought of the shame
of the thing, of cross Jotham, of the Peabody hens,
and of Aunt Dorcas; so he kept on. His shoes
were wet with the dew, and much walking began
to hurt his feet, for the way was rough. His small






s888.] RAN AWAY

legs were shaky under him; but, sustaining his
sinking spirits with an unsteady and quavering
song once in a while, he kept bravely on until he
came to a sign-board .at the forking of the ways.
" Shinning up this, he read, To Doesport, 3 m."
"To Dorbury, 5 m." Then he knew he was still
fifteen miles from Fairport. It was a discouraging
outlook.
The moon was sinking in the west and a cold
and chilly mist was drifting upward from the river,
when Charlie, footsore and scarce able to crawl, so
sore were his blistered feet, found himself unable to
go any farther. What should he do? He dared
not approach anyhouse. He could walk no more.
He feared he might be picked up and stolen by
gypsies if he lay by the side of the road. So, see-
ing in a fence-corner close by the highway a half-
used hayrick, he crawled over the rails, regarding
with tearful envy the cows that chewed their cuds
contentedly in the next inclosure, wondered who
lived in the i-ed house near at hand, and then,
" cuddling down in a cave-like chasm in the side of
the hayrick, went to sleep in an instant. His
sorrows were forgotten.
It was broad daylight when Charlie awoke with
a sobbing, soughing noise full in his face. He
started with a little scream, for he felt the warm
breath of an animal on his forehead. A stupid
cow that had been snuffing at this strange figure,
as she poked her nose through the fence-rails,
snorted wildly and dashed away from the fence,
"Whoa! Hoish! yer blamed fool, Nance. What
are yer scared on?" said a voice; and a good-
natured, freckled face, surmounted by a ragged
straw hat, looked over the fence.
Resting his arms on the top rail, and regarding
the small and very rueful figure sitting up under
the lee of the hayrick, dusty with travel, and
with tear-stained face, Elkanah Watson, Reuben
Grindle's hired man, simply said: "Well, I '11 be
blamed."
Charlie resolutely repressed the rising tears, and
said: How far is it to Fairport?"
"It's a matter of eight or nine mile, young feller.
Be you goin' to Fairport? "
"Yes, I am," said Charlie. "And I must be
pegging away." With that he got on his feet, but,
cramped by his unusual sleeping-place, and being
lame in the knees and feet, he nearly fell down
again.
"See here," said Elkanah, noting the plight the
boy was in, "you mustn't go no furder till you
have been fixed up a bit. You 're clean tuckered
out. What's your name, anyhow ?"
"You can call me Jim," responded Charlie.
"Jim what? "
"Nothing," he replied brazenly. "Just Jim."


TO HOME. 527

"Wal, you come into the house, Jim, and we '11
see what we can do for you. The folks will be git-
tin' up right off, and I guess Mis' Grindle will slick
you up before she lets you go on." With that,
Elkanah reached over, took the lad by the arms,
and lifted him over the fence. Then, balancing
himself on his stomach across the top rail, he
swooped down and picked up the boy's beaver
hat, restored it to its rightful owner, putting it on
wrong side foremost, and again saying, Wal, I'11
be blamed led him into the red house.
A bowl of milk, warm from the cow, greatly
refreshed the little runaway, so that, when Mrs.
Grindle came down and pausing in the door said,
"Wal, I never he looked up with an air of some
amusement. He found himself, for the first time
in his life, an object of interest.
Old Nance found the little chap herself, unbe-
knownst to anybody," said Elkanah, puffing away
at the fire that he was trying to kindle in the kitchen
fire-place. Mebbe she took him for one o' them
new-fangled Durhams that they are making' such
a to-do about, down to Fairport," he continued,
addressing Mrs. Grindle. And Elkanah giggled
and gurgled as he blew the kindling flames.
At the mention of Fairport, Charlie spoke up,
" That's where I live."
"What You live to Fairport? And what is
your name ? said Mrs. Grindle.
Charlie hesitated. For some reason that he
never could understand, even in all the years after-
ward, he thought he must not give his real name.
It 's Jim; just Jim," said Elkanah, grinning.
"Did ye ever see a boy before with only one
name ? 'Just Jim.' Oh, go 'long with yer non-
sense "
At this, Reuben Grindle, master of the house,
came down the stair, his big boots in his hand.
He regarded the small boy perched on the chair
with open-eyed amazement, and said: "Why, I
declare if that is n't Master Redmond's boy Be n't
you Master Redmond's boy ? "
The boy nodded. His father was a master ship-
builder, well known through all the country round
as "Master Redmond."
Why, he says his name is Jim," cried Elkanah
Watson.
"It's no such thing," said Reuben Grindle,
sternly. "His brother Jim is a man grown.
What is your name, youngster?" he asked.
Charlie Holmes Redmond," answered the
child, as was his wont.
Wal, I never said the good woman, shocked
at this youthful depravity. But, as if impressed by
the idea that he was Master Redmond's boy, she
took off his stockings and bathed his poor wounded
feet; then, threading a large needle, and drawing






RAN AWAY TO HOME.


the thread across a piece of yellow soap, she ten- "I 've got a pair in my bag. Oh, where is my
derly passed needle and thread through the watery bag? he cried, in a sudden panic.
blisters with which the soles of his feet were "Where did you have it last? asked big Elka-
sprinkled. nah, who was regarding all these preparations
"Now, if I only had a clean pair of socks," she with evident sympathy for the tired boy.


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" THIS WAS TO MASTER CHARLIE A VERY MORTIFYING ERRAND."


I had it under my
head when I lay down in
the hay-rick."
Then old Nance has
eat it up by this time,"
said Elkanah, but he
stalked out and soon re-
turned in triumph bearing
the little shiny satchel.
"There's eatables in it,
and Nance would have
chawed it up if she had
only got at it," said
the shrewd Elkanah, with
a very wide grin.
A wholesome break-
fast gave the youngster
new life for the remainder
of his toilsome march.
When he had comfort-
ably filled himself, dur-
ing which pleasing task
Mrs. Grindle, aided and
abetted by Elkanah and
Reuben, drew from him
all the particulars of
his journey and his
reasons for the same, the
good woman said:
"Now, you lie down
and take a nap. The
down stage won't be
here till nearly dinner-
time, and you look as if
a good sleep would do
you good."
"Oh, I can't ride
home. I have n't got
any money. I must be
going, right off," said
Charlie.
"Land sakes alive!"
cried Mrs. Grindle. "Do
listen to him! As if
Master Redmond would
n't pay your stage-fare
when you get home, and
glad enough, too. Be-
sides, Mose Copp '11 sure


said, eying with some dismay those that Charlie trust you; don't you worry about that."
had so painfully worn all night. They were nearly But Charlie was resolute. He said nothing more
past wearing any more. about going. But, when Reuben and Elkanah


N


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II




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[MAY,






RAN AWAY TO HOME.


had gone to work and the good wife was busy
about her household matters, the lad, watching
his chance, slipped out at the door and took to his
heels down the road as fast as he could go, nor
did he stop until he had put at least a half-mile
between him and the hospitable house of the
Grindles.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Grindle, returning
from her dairy, saw with dismay that he had fled.
Looking down the highway, she beheld Charlie
making toward Fairport, which was still many miles
away. Smiling to herself, she said aloud, "Wal,
that boy does beat all! "
When the stage rattled up, later in the forenoon,
she went out, having waved her apron as a signal
to stop Moses Copp, and told him that if he saw
a small boy limping along the highway, foot-sore
and lame, he must take him in and carry him to
Fairport.
"And if he won't go, Mose, you must grab him
and carry him along, willy-nilly. He 's Master
Redmond's son, and land only knows what his
folks will say if you let him go on alone."
Oh, I know all about him. There was the very


he lay in a mass of golden-rod, laughing softly
as Moses drove by, driver and passengers scan-
ning both sides of the bushy road as they passed
on.
When the stage reached Fairport, and Moses
Copp had delivered his tidings to Master Redmond,
that jovial gentleman only laughed and said:
Oh, he's plucky. He '11 be home by midday."
But midday came and went, and so did many
hours after, and no Charlie appeared.
Father, you must take the horse and go look for
the boy," said the anxious mother. Just then there
was a shout in the rear of the house, toward which
sloped a long field from the highway on the hill
beyond. Mother and father, with the brood of
children at their heels, ran to the back door.
There was the fugitive, looking very much the
worse for his long tramp.
"Oh, I 'm all right!" he shouted, boastfully.
But catching a look at his mother's anxious face,
and taking in at one swift glance the beloved home,
so strange and yet so dear after an absence that
seemed an age, the little chap burst into a passion
of happy tears. The loving mother clasped him


dickens to pay, up to his
aunt's, when they found
out that he had run off,"
said Moses. The old
lady was nigh distracted,
and I promised her I 'd
pick him up; and I will,
if he don't get to Fairport
before we do. G'lang
there !"
The stage-driver loudly
cracked his whip and
the stage rumbled away,
leaving Mrs. Reuben to
follow it with her eyes.
But Master Charlie
had calculated upon this.
He knew that his Aunt
Dorcas would instruct
Moses Copp to pick up
her vagrant nephew; and
he was in terror every
time he heard wheels
behind him on the road.
He was determined to wall


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IC


"IT WAS BROAD DAYLIGHT WHEN CHARLIE AWOKE."


home, unless his


little legs gave out beneath him. More than
once, at some sort of false alarm, he hopped
over the fences and lay quiet among the bushes
while a country wagon clattered by. Finally,
he heard the well-remembered rumble and rattle
of the Concord stage that Moses Copp so grandly
drove from Fairport to Doesport. Over the fence
he went like a flash, lame as he was. And there
VOL. XV.-34.


to her bosom, laughing and crying by turns.
Brothers and sisters stood around rejoicing, and
half envious of the youngster, who had suddenly
become a hero.
The mother dried her eyes and, too glad to think
for a moment of berating the child, said: "' For
this my son was lost and is found.' He has made
his first flight from his mother, and has run
away-to home."


1888.]
















LADY DAFFODIL.


BY MARY E. SHARPE.


MY dainty Lady Daffodil
Has donned her amber gown,
And on her fair and sunny head
Sparkles her golden crown.

The conscious bluebells softly sway,
And catch the yellow light -
And violets, among their leaves,
Breathe low their young delight.

The sweet old-fashioned almond flower
Brightens its pallid red,


And flings its petals, daintily,
Over the garden bed.

Her tall green leaves, like sentinels,
Surround my Lady's throne,
And graciously in happy state
She reigns a queen alone.

And thus, my Lady Daffodil
In gorgeous, amber gown,
Holdeth her court this sun-warm.-day,
Wearing her golden crown.


PICTURES FOR LITTLE FRENCH READERS. No. IV.

















II I '
II
* c


II


Young Tm-iothyTm-iid is cautious and. wealthy ;
He has heard that bicycle owner's are healthy,
And being himself but a wveak- chested youth,
-[e bouL-ht him a wheel,- and a beauty, in truth.
A pity," he said, as he viewed it with pride
To scar it and batter it learning~ to ride ;
And worse (what is liKely )to batter myself.
I cannot do better than hire with my pelf
Some cycler to ride in my stead, and be rid
Of all danger and worry and work So he did .


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AN ADVENTURE WITH A MAN-EATER.

By WALTER CAMPBELL.


T is now a good many years ago
- since I killed the man-eating
tiger; but I remember it all as
/ i vividly as if it happened yester-
d ay, and as I write, the whole
.. Y wild scene rises before me,- the
'4'group of half-clothed natives
W. gloating with eager faces over
the corpse of their enemy, the
waving palm-trees above, and as for the heat, I can
almost feel that! It was far away in Southern
India, the home of the Royal Bengal tiger, that
the adventure took place.
You must know, first of all, that the tiger as seen
cooped up in a cage at some circus, or in a zoologi-
cal garden, is very different from the animal as
he appears in his native jungle. In the circus he
is so cabined, cribbed, confined" that he is
never able properly to stretch his muscles, and
the roar with which he greets the keeper who is
bringing his food, resembles the roar with which
he awakens the echoes of the forest, as the piping
of a tin trumpet resembles the screech of a steam-
whistle. It is difficult to describe the roar of a tiger
when he is angry. It is not like the lion's, which
is more nearly a "bellow," but perhaps you can
realize it when I say that it is as if a thousand
tom-cats gave one wild and prolonged "meow."
Tigers are generally hunted in two ways: one
is, shooting from the howdah of a "pad" ele-
phant, which is a comparatively safe method; and
the other is to shoot them from a meec/zazim, or
platform of boughs fixed in a tree. When the
latter method is adopted a bait, in the form of a
bullock, either alive or dead, is generally used to
attract the tiger; or else the meechauml is built
within range of the place to which the animal is
accustomed to come for his morning drink. The
latter is perhaps the commoner way, as shooting
tigers from the back of an elephant is rather ex-
pensive work and only within reach of those who
have long purses.
It was during the hot weather of 1876 that, in
company with a friend who was an officer in one
of the native Indian regiments, I went on a
shooting expedition for a few days in Travancore,


Southern India. We were some days' march from
any English settlement, and were on our way to
pass the night at a native village, said by our guide
to be near at hand. We had with us two sowars,
or troopers, of my friend's regiment, who acted as
skikarees, or hunters, to beat up the game and
make themselves generally useful in camp. We
were not looking especially for tigers, but were
ready for anything that came; and we soon arrived
at the village where we were to pass the night.
What a lovely place it was, and how cool and
pleasant it seemed to our tired eyes and over-
heated bodies! It was built on the shore of a
small lake, or "tank," and was shaded by groves
of palm and cocoanut trees, and altogether there
was an aspect of peace about it that was very
pleasing. But when we came near, we were con-
siderably astonished to hear none of the usual signs
of welcome. Usually, when a European enters a
native village, he is saluted by the furious barking of
innumerable curs, and the inhabitants eagerly flock
to see the sahib. But now all this was wanting, and
everything was as silent as the grave. Not a sign
of the inhabitants was to be seen, and, as we went
from door to door seeking some one and failed'
to find a living soul, we thought we had found a
city of the dead. We were about to give up our
quest, when from one of the huts there crawled a
man, bent with age. Slowly he approached with
many salaams, and in reply to our queries as to
what had become of the rest of the inhabitants,
informed us that they had all forsaken the town
on account of a man-eating tiger. He was the
only person left, being too old to leave his home.
He informed us that the terrible tiger had visited
the village three times, and each time had borne
away a victim. Then the people could endure the
danger no longer, and all had fled.
"But, oh!" continued the old man, all will
be right now; the sahibs will slay the tiger, and
once more the people can come back to their
beautiful village." We agreed to make at least an
attempt to kill the tiger, but were considerably
handicapped by the lack of a guide who knew the
ground where the tiger generally lay. The old
man told us, however, that he was momentarily






AN ADVENTURE WITH A MAN-EATER.


, ., pecting a visit from his grandson, who was to
bi ing him some rice, and that the grandson could
I.:i.:h some of the villagers to act as guides. Ac-
S.:..dingly we decided to remain in the village all
i, li:t, and to start upon the tiger's trail in the
.....rning.


a man-eater in the neighborhood, it behooved us to
keep the closest watch during the night. In order
to do this more effectually, we built a big fire and
divided the night into watches. One of the sowars
had first watch, and we gave him strict orders that
he was not to sleep even so much as a wink, for


i~~~1


Z _j. -
.....

'TIE TIGER CRAWLS UP SO QUIETLY .HAT TE VICTIM HAS NO WARNINGG OF THE CRAFY ANIMALS ATTAC.

"THE TIGER CRAWLS UP SO QUIETLY THAT THE VICTIM HAS NO WARNING Or THE CRAFTY ANIMAL'S ATTACK."


Soon after we had encamped, the old man's
;indson appeared. We sent a message by him
i.:, the villagers that we were there to slay the
tiler, and asked them to send their best hunt-
W:i, with a bullock to be used for bait. We had
*:'"r own tent with us, and this we set up on the
*:'u-:skirts of the village. Knowing that there was


his life depended upon his vigilance. A tiger will
never hesitate to attack a sleeping man, and he
crawls up so quietly that the victim has no warn-
ing of the crafty animal's attack until the catlike
spring is made upon the prey. We ourselves lay
down inside the tent, previously, however, cover-
ing the sights of our rifles with pieces of white


533






534 AN ADVENTURE W
cotton, so that we might have something to guide
us if we should have to aim them suddenly in the
dark. It seemed to me that my eyes had hardly
been closed for five minutes, when I was startled by
the most unearthly shriek I ever heard. It was but
one terrifying cry, and then all was silent. But too






1Ai


IN THE JUNGLE.
well I knew what it meant. The sowar on watch
had fallen asleep, and the tiger had pounced upon


[MAY,


ITH A MAN-EATER.


him and carried him off to the jungle. We fired
our rifles in the direction the brute had taken, not
with any hope of
hitting, but trust- .6 I
ing that the sound .
of fire-arms would ,'.
makethebeastdrop



hi n itim e "i. i.d.. .b t: .




i,.^.
.l.xeb o._ m l a"a y ,






,d .... ,: '
A- I' ''



S ',~ I l,-: -- ; ...
F ., ,.. .,mg., so, a.-,r re''i



i' I 1; 1 -' c .. i t. Guided by them,
I .. ,il: r I.t ,: I j !ce about a mile away,
close by a stream,
where they said that
they had seen the
tiger's tracks, show-
ing that he came
thereto drink. He
was not to te exf
pected until even-
S ing; so, after re
connoitering the
ground and select-
ing in a suitable
,it only as ., tree a place to build
until we coeecaunz, we re-
turnedtothevillage.
In the evening we
returned to the

thing we did was to
build the meecsauid
in the tree. We
did not intend to
shoot the tiger from
the tree, but made
it only as a place in which to pass the night,
until we could "stalk" the tiger to the spot





1888.1 AN ADVENTURE WI

where the bait should be placed. Accordingly
we tethered the white calf in the middle of a clear
space, some two or three hundred yards away,
and when all preparations were complete we
returned to the meechaum. You may be sure
not one of us slept a wink that night; we were
far too anxious, and when the very faintest streak
of dawn appeared we slid down the tree, and
slowly and carefully crept to where the calf was
tethered. When we came near, we at first could
see nothing of the calf, and thought that the tiger
had carried him off bodily; but our eyes were be-
coming better accustomed to the gloom, and as
it was rapidly growing lighter, we soon discerned
something white lying on the ground, and every now
and then moving a little; and -yes! sure enough,
there was something else beside it! In the East
daylight comes almost as quickly as does the even-
ing darkness, and it was not long before we could
make out the tiger and the lashing of his tail."
He was lying full length on the calf's body, and
evidently, since the calf still moved, had not yet
killed it. On the other side of the open ground
there was a dead tree, and I thought: Master
Tiger, if I can get behind that, you are a dead tiger,


TH A MAN-EATER. 535

and will go to the happy hunting-grounds of Tiger-
dom." I arranged with my friend that he should
stay where he was, to shoot the tiger if he turned
in that direction, while I should steal over to the
dead tree and try to get a shot from there. I ar-
rived at the tree all right, and, slowly taking careful
aim at the tiger so that I might hit him right behind
the shoulder, I fired. "Me-ow-w-w!"-what a
roar he did give as he sprang into the air! I had
hit him hard, and he faced directly toward me, with
his eyes glowing like red-hot coals.
Then he gave one frantic bound toward where
my friend was standing, but it was his last leap,
for the short, sharp crack of a rifle rang out, and,
with a bullet through his heart, the great man-
eater lay dead !
Oh! what joy there was among the villagers,
who now came running up. Their enemy was
dead, and once more they could return to their
beautiful village. How they danced round him
and spat upon him, and called the tiger by all the
abusive epithets in the Indian vocabulary. Then
they tied the paws together and slung the body on a
pole, and we all returned in triumph together.
And so ended my adventure with the man-eater.


LITTLE JOSEF HOFMANN.

BY MARY LANG.


HO is he ? A Polish
boy only ten years
old, with a sweet
round face and
large dreamy-look-
ing eyes, who can
play the piano-
forte. Many boys
e can do that, but not
as little Josef does
- for he possesses that rarest of all great gifts -
genius; and his wonderful playing has stirred his
audiences to the greatest enthusiasm, and made
them feel that they have been fortunate enough to
see and hear a second "boy Mozart."
He was born at Warsaw, on the ioth of June,
1877. His father was then an orchestral con-
ductor and professor of the piano-forte at the
Warsaw conservatory. Thus Josef was born into
a musical atmosphere, and we believe he has


received his entire musical instruction from his
own father.
When scarcely six years old he played in pub-
lic at some of the principal European towns, and
with extraordinary success. On June 9th, of last
year, he first played before a London audience.
While in London he gave four piano-forte recitals,
and achieved his greatest triumph at the final con-
cert of the Philharmonic Society by his interpreta-
tion of one of Beethoven's Concertos--a work
which tests the capabilities of even a mature and
experienced musician.
I wonder if you have ever heard of Charles
Hall6? He is one of the best living conductors,
whose band of over one hundred performers is
celebrated throughout England. He gives a
series of concerts every season in Manchester,
and at one of these I first heard little Hofmann.
The great Free Trade Hall was crowded, and all
were filled with eager anticipation. Josef Hofmann






LITTLE JOSEF HOFMANN.


was to perform a Concerto of Mozart's, and
the audience was not more interested than were
the artists who were to play with him. A con-
certo, as perhaps you know, is a composition for
a particular instrument in which the performance
is partly alone and partly accompanied; and to
render the principal part in a concerto is a task
that usually is attempted only by artists of marked
ability and experience.
Could this be Josef? A dear little fellow who
looked not more than six years old, dressed in
black knickerbockers and a white-flannel Gari-
baldi? This baby-boy to play Mozart's Con-
certo? Impossible !
Not a trace of nervousness or embarrassment
does he display as he trots across the platform,
and, with a merry little nod to the audience, seats
himself at the piano-forte. I can not say howothers
felt; but I fairly held my breath until the first
movement was over, for the wonder of it quite
overcame me.
I shall never forget the scene the gray-haired
conductor, the band of experienced artists, and in
the center the child playing as if imbued with the
very spirit of Mozart. Each movement was played
correctly and with true artistic finish. At the
close, in response to the enthusiastic recalls of the
audience, he nodded his head to them, as though
he had not done anything at all wonderful, and
ran off the platform.
I must not forget to tell you that when the little
fellow is seated at the piano his feet do not reach
the ground, so that the tiny musician is obliged
to use pedals specially arranged for him, as the
ordinary piano pedals would be much below his
feet.
In the second part of the programme he played
alone,- first, a Waltz by Chopin, and then two
pieces, a Romance and a Waltz, both of these his
own compositions.
Was it possible that such tiny hands produced
that full, rich tone, those delicate turns, those bird-
like trills? Could it be little Hofmann, or was it
the Spirit of Music embodied in the child?
They tell us that he practices for only an hour
and a half a day. I can well believe it, for, though
his execution is amazing, no mere practice could
have produced such results at his age. It is just a
gift from Heaven for little Josef to play as he does,
and he plays as naturally as other boys breathe.
Music is the language in which he speaks.
He seems such a lovable little fellow, aside from
his genius, that I don't wonder the Princess of
Wales, when he had played for her, took his face
between her hands and kissed him. It is what
many would like to have done.
Some one asked if he did n't find Music very


difficult, and he answered, Oh, no; Music is very
easy,-but lawn-tennis is hard. I must learn to
play lawn-tennis."
He is now in America, and I hope all the Amer-
ican readers of ST. NICHOLAS who love music
will be able to hear him for themselves. And music-
loving boys and girls must not be discouraged if,
after they have heard him, they feel how poor is
their own performance, but rather should be in-
spired to renewed efforts.


The unstinted praise which heralded the arrival
of the child-pianist in America, while assuring a
welcome, also made it seem impossible that the ex-
pectations of a new public, prepared for a great
wonder, could be satisfied.
Every one knew that the little boy could play,
but there were lingering doubts whether his achieve-
ments in music had not been over-praised.
Now, in his own pretty, modest, and charming
way he has made his boyish nod to the most
critical audiences of New York, Philadelphia, Bos-
ton, and Brooklyn, and has convinced the most
skeptical that he is not an imitator nor an
automaton, nor a little specimen of precocity;
but simply a young musical genius, of whom,
perhaps, even the whole truth had not been told.
That Josef is a genius, a born musician, the
American people now believe; that he is a natural,
fascinating, and lovable small boy, withal, all of
his many friends warmly attest.




THE CHILD JOSEF HOFMANN.

BY A FELLOW-VOYAGER.

HOULD you like to know more
of the great child-pianist ? It is
not of Josef's genius I wish to
tell you; but of the real little
boy Josef, with whom I crossed
the ocean in the steamship
Aller," and whom I knew
and loved for his bright little self before I won-
dered at him and admired him for the sake of
his music. Indeed, one saw in him none of
the precocity one would expect to find in such
a genius; he was as much of a rough-and-tumble
boy as any of you or your school-fellows. When
I first saw him, he had just come on board
warmly clad for the voyage in the huge fur
cap and fur-lined coat in which he has been so


[MAY,






LITTLE JOSE;


often photographed. He ran about investigating
with great curiosity the boat which was to be his
abode for the next eight days, and chatting in
German with every one. I soon became one of his
friends, and his small figure was often the first to
greet me when I went up on deck in the morning;
at that time his low bow and manner of kissing
my hand were worthy of a small prince, though
prompted by an impulse most childlike and affec-
tionate. He showed, however, that he cares little
for the plaudits and flowers, so often showered
upon him after a performance, by his remark,
when a friend on board said he would send him a
bouquet at his first concert,
" Oh," said Josef, "let it
be a toy instead." He de-
lighted in games of any de-
scription, and particularly
in sleight-of-hand tricks.
Some one had taught him
how to insert a coin through
the small neck of a bottle;
he was extremely proud of
this accomplishment, and
was always greatly pleased
when any one asked to see
it. There were some chil-
dren on board of whom he
was very fond, and one
evening he amused himself
with drawing an anden-
ken" (remembrance) for
each of these young friends;
one, I remember, was an
absurd caricature of him-
self, seated at a huge piano,
his hair standing out in all
directions, in a most ridic-
ulous manner. He became
so absorbed in this occupa-
tion that no persuasion was
strong enough to induce
him to go to the piano, until
some one promised to teach
him a new and fascinating
card trick. Before the
fifth day of the voyage,
the piano had scarcely been heard, and for a
very good reason,--that which usually controls
all things in steamer life,-namely, the weather;
but on the morning of that day we passengers
all gathered in the saloon to personally test the
reports we all had read and heard of our young
friend's genius. Of course, our expectations were
most fully realized; his playfellows listened, awe-
struck by his wonderful playing, and indeed it
was quite impossible for any not to feel a tender


F HOFMANN. 537

reverence for the child-hands endowed with power
so marvelous. His small feet hardly reached the
pedals, and, to his great amusement, it was neces-
sary to call a steward to come and steady his chair,
as the motion of the ship threatened to dislodge
him from his seat; but it never interfered with the
harmony of his music.
He gave several of his own compositions, and
while playing would often speak with some one
standing near him; and his sly winks at his admir-
ing playfellows were most amusing. When his
short performance was over, he did not care to
hear our many praises, but soon ran away to his


JOSEF HOFMANN.
play. Music, thus begun, continued all the after-
noon, and Josef, though most unsparing in his
criticisms, listened with pleasure to the poorest
performance. Toward evening he came to me on
the deck, begging me to go with him into the
saloon to hear some singing, which he said was
so bad "das es wirklich amusant war" (that it
was really amusing). That evening a small con-
cert was arranged in which Josef's playing was,
of course, the principal feature. His father sat


IA-0 r






[MAY,


LITTLE JOSEF HOFMANN.


beside him while he played, and only to him did
the child care to look for a nod of approval-
which invariably greeted him. Indeed, if you have
watched closely at one of his concerts, you have
found that from the time of his appearance on the
stage, Josef's attention is directed toward a dark,
intelligent-looking man seated back of the or-
chestra; and, though he has those charming little
bobbing bows of his for the audience, and occasion-
ally a grimace for his friends among the admiring
orchestra, yet, to one who knows him, it is easily
perceived that he considers the true spirit of the


music to be rightly appreciated only by his father
and himself. I have been told by his personal
manager that often, after an apparently most suc-
cessful performance, the little fellow has burst into
tears, insisting that he has failed in the true render-
ing of some composition.
But all this is not of the boy, and now I can
only say, as I did when I saw him descend the
gang-plank to these (to him) unknown shores
where he was so soon to gain fame and popularity,
" May life and renown deal gently with the won-
derful boy! "


DRILL: A STORY OF SCHOOL-BOY LIFE.

BY JOHN PRESTON TRUE.


CHAPTER VII.

IT was night; and the round November moon
hung poised in space undimmed by mist or cloud,
an orb of radiant silver, and poured through the
tree-tops a flood of mellow light. The wind was
from the south; it ruffled the waters of the lake
in sudden flashes edged with blackness; rattled
the bare branches overhead, and, sighing wearily,
swept back into the mazes of the forest the wind-
rows of dry leaves that still were lying here and
there; shook the windows in their casings, and
the loose shingles on the roofs; slammed an un-
fastened blind fitfully against wall and window
by turns, and breathed a warmth unusual to the
season.
In the west dormitory all was still, and half
the wide windows were open. The curtains were
drawn back from the alcoves to allow free circula-
tion of the refreshing air, and now and then the low
breathing of some sleeper was distinctly audible,
so quiet was the room; while the silence within was
otherwise unbroken, save by the
Sad, uncertain
Rustling of some silken curtain,"

as the breeze that blew through the open windows
lifted it for a moment; or by the unexpected, sharp
little rattle of a coal falling from an open grate.
The night guard sat by the grate nearest to the
head of the stairway, quarter-staff in hand, casting


an eye around the hall for a moment, and then idly
drawing geometrical figures in the ashes on the
hearth. After a brief rest, he resumed his slow
pacing along the hall, with noiseless feet.
"Toll-1-1! "
It was the great clock upon the distant tower,
striking the hour of midnight.
"Toll--l! and each stroke sent a lonely throb
echoing again and again, from wall to wall, and fly-
ing out upon the lake to die away in the distance.
"Toll-1-1!" and at the last stroke the quick-
eared sentinel caught the muffled sound of feet
along a corridor, stood at "ready with his quarter-
staff, received the salute of the relief, gave up his
staff to a comrade, and betook himself to his couch
and dreamless sleep; rejoicing in the fact that his
guard-duty exempted him from rising on the
morrow at reveille; while the new sentinel began
in turn his silent march back and forth, back
and forth, with a measured tread as regular as a
pendulum.
In the study nearest to the stairs Harry was sleep-
ing profoundly, but in dreams was still alert. The
jar of the swinging shutter had given form to the
phantom scenes which his mind created, and
caused him to dream that it was again summer,
and sunrise, and that from the old fort far away
across the level lake came the dull boom of the
morning gun.
He was still listening to those fancied echoes
among the distant hills, when he was rudely









awakened by a terrific explosion that shook the
building as though it were a house of cards, and
sent him to his feet with a convulsive start.
The hurried footfalls on every side, shouts of
alarm, eager questions, hasty answers, told him
plainly that it was no dream, while amid and
above the confusion came a strange, hissing,
seething noise from the lower part of the building,
sounding like the rush of water aft from the pad-
dle-wheels of an enormous steamboat.
Then came another explosion, and another, and
another, and another, in quick succession, sharp,
irregular; and with the cry, It 's the chemicals
in the laboratory," the night guards plunged down
the stairs with the fire-extinguishers. A thick
column of stifling smoke swirled up from the hall
below, and simultaneously rang out that which,
heard at night, is the most startling of all cries, -
"Fire !"
Were you ever in a hotel at night when such an
alarm was given? Do you remember the fright,
the shrieks, the wild, panic-stricken rushing to and
fro, the attempts at saving what was not worth
saving, and the neglect of valuables ? Do you re-
member how insidiously the gushing smoke eddied
around the corners, and hung in dense clouds along
the corridors; and how, through all, was heard the
snapping crackle of the flames splitting the tim-
bers in their fiery jaws? Do you remember the
set look of deadly terror upon some of the faces
which appeared like ghosts in the darkness, and
the dazed, undecided, uncomprehending look upon
other faces, and the wild eyes of those others who
for the time had lost all reason? Thus it was in
the school.
In an instant the dormitory halls were filled with
white forms rushing for the stairway, but the throng
surged back as it met the smothering smoke. There
was another rush for the windows and the fire-
escapes, but the crowd was so great that no one
could gain access to them, and some narrowly
escaped being hurled from the windows by the
frantic pushing of those in the rear. There was
none to direct, none to assist another, but each
thought but of himself and fought blindly for life.
A hundred voices were shouting at once.
It was all in an instant. When Harry rose to
his feet his first impulse had been to rush out as
the rest had done; the next thought was, that as
it was November, a little more substantial protec-
tion than his present attire would be useful. He
was perhaps ten seconds in dressing, and then he
hurried out to the stairway. He stopped, aghast
at the crush around the stairs at the moment.
Then the throng surged in a solid mass, like a
school of catfish, to the other end of the hall, and
jammed helplessly against the windows; while


the shouts of the boys in the upper halls were
added to the cries from below; and down the upper
staircase those who could get through the crowd
came plunging in groups of two or more, to add
themselves to the mob below. For just one instant
the lieutenant stood as though riveted to the spot,
and gazed with horror upon the scene. Then,
as an upper-hall boy flew past him like the wind
and clattered down the stairway with flying leaps,
he turned and sprang with a single bound to the
recess where hung a great war-gong (which a
sea-captain and former pupil had sent, as a
trophy from a piratical Chinese junk). He seized
the beater.
Whang!"
Even in the panic the habit of discipline as-
serted itself for an instant, and, all over the build-
ing, a sudden silence followed, in which could
be distinctly heard the crackle-crackle" of the
flames, mingled with the hiss of the water from
the fire-extinguishers. In the next breath, Harry,
ex-lieutenant Rankin, and Dane upon the floor
above, shouted as with one voice:
Fall-l-1 in i "
It was an inspiring sight to see those three young
fellows,who stood cool and self-possessed in all that
turmoil and panic, and the blind obedience of the
dazed, half-smothered throng of boys who tumbled
over one another as they struggled into line.
Fall-l-1 in!"
Even in their terror they recognized by instinct
that in discipline was their only hope of safety, and
the ringing command was the one gleam of light
upon their darkened minds.
No more fugitives came down the upper stairs.
Harry darted into his study for a second and as
quickly re-appeared by the side of Rankin, who
stood at the recess by the war-gong; a quarter of a
minute later the cheery notes of Aminadab Doo-
little's fife shrilled out through the darkness, play-
ing, in double-time, The Campbells are Coming,"
filling the building from roof to basement with the
inspiring melody, while simultaneously came the
stentorian cry of Rankin, the ex-lieutenant, echoing
from corridor to corridor, Ri-ight face Double-
lime,- MARCH !"
It was heard all over the building, and in the
dormitories outside, and was so much louder than
the necessity required, that Dane, in the room
overhead, broke into a hearty laugh, his fun-
loving soul recognizing the humor of it, even then.
It was singular how that laugh, ringing down the
stair, put an end to the panic. The rapid "tramp-
tramp-tramp" of feet upon the iron steps kept
time to the cadence of the fife. The smoke,
poisonous, laden with death-dealing fumes of the
chemicals, curled and eddied in stifling wreaths


1888.]


DRILL.





[MAY,


DRILL.


about the lieutenant and the disrated officer, but
not a step moved either from his post. The notes
of the fife piped on unfalteringly, and Rankin's
voice was as steady as ever it was on parade, when
he ordered the ranks to cover their mouths and
nostrils before entering the clouds of suffocating
and nauseous vapors below. But there was a strange
ringing in the ears of the boys, and a mist gath-
ered before their eyes. The deadly cloud was too
much for them,--or would have been, had not
Dane seen them reeling backward as he followed
this impromptu command down the upper stair-
case. Instantly divining the trouble, he threw the


greeted by a hearty round of cheers; and there,
below them, were those who so lately had been
occupants of the dormitory; in ghostly raiment, it
is true, but drawn up in line with all the precision
of a competitive drill, while three or four of the
night guard came out from the lower story, one of
them limping, all of them wet and dripping, and
reported to the General himself.
"All out, sir !"
They did not refer to the fire, but to the boys;
the fire, however, by their prompt action was fairly
dead-but it was an exceedingly narrow escape!
Harry and the ex-lieutenant sat down upon the


"RANKIN STOOD BY THE WVAR-GONG, AND AMINADAB DOOLITTLE'S FIFE SHRILLED OUT THROUGH THE DARKNESS."


heavy boots, which he carried in his hand, one
after the other with such accurate aim as to dash
out the entire window at the end of the hall; and
thus caused a flood of life-giving air to come rush-
ing through it. Then he passed the loiterers, with
his men upon the run, flashing back a swift: Keep
it up, fellows," as he went, that brought back their
senses as only a cheery, inspiring word can.
But how long it seemed before the sergeant at the
end of the last file passed them, and they could
take their turn In reality, it was just one minute
since the first notes of the fife. And as they
stepped out upon the fire-escape, instead of descend-
ing by the stairs, they were astonished at being


landing of the fire-escape, instead of descending,
and leisurely surveyed the scene.
Did you ever see such a looking crew, Harry ?"
asked Rankin, with a chuckle. This will go
down to posterity as the 'great un-dress parade.' "
But Harry could not laugh; he was too much
excited. He wished to find Dane,;one of whose
boots he had picked up on the fire-escape; so he
rapidly swung himself down the ladder, and reach-
ing the "jumping-off place," let himself drop. It
was this gap that had determined Rankin to send
the boys down by the stairway, in preference, so
long as the stairs were not actually in flames.
He had taken command because Harry could not







DRILL.


give orders and play the fife, too, and he was very
doubtful whether the General might not now re-
gard this as presumptuous since he was a private.
But the General met them at the foot of the
ladder; he had already heard all about it.
Regardless of etiquette, the old martinet grasped
their hands ,and squeezed them until the boys
winced, his face glowing with satisfaction. He was
proud of his boys, and of the triumph of discipline.
Without saying a word, he grasped Harry and
Rankin by their shoulders and marched them over
to the front of the line of boys, paused a moment,
and said briefly:
"Company-attention Acting-LieutenantWy-
lie's commission is hereby made permanent, and
he will be appointed to special duty. Private
Rankin, for conspicuous bravery, is hereby restored
to his former rank of Second Lieutenant. Break
ranks,-march!"
And those nearest to the General always declared
that the light which glistened in his eyes was the
reflection of moonbeams upon tears.

CHAPTER VIII.

BREAK ranks,-march!"
Can you not imagine how with shouts that woke
the echoes, the boys rushed for the dormitory and
dispersed to their rooms? Harry found Dane,
and surrendered the boot with a word of hearty
thanks; and the twain, with Rankin,- now flushed
and proud over his recent restoration to rank,-
peered inquisitively into what was left of the labo-
ratory. The fire was confined to the laboratory-
room, and an immediate consequence was the
transfer of that institution to a small building at a
safe distance from the rest.
Dane himself was particularly happy, and rather
silent, over something that the General had said to
him; and, for once, did not remark that he had
been "born without any ideas, worth consider-
ing."
The attractions of the ruins were not great at
one o'clock in the morning, however; the scene
was nearly shrouded in darkness, with broken
glass underfoot, charred timbers to rub against,
and a wet burnt-wood smell, mixed with various
"quaint and curious" odors (for the most part
unpleasant) arising from the remains of destroyed
chemicals which originally had not been intended
for such wholesale compounding.
"It's like the famous 'city of Cologne,'" said
Rankin, holding his nose. I shall smell all sorts
of horrible things for the next week; come, we 'll
go inside."
It's lucky that there was n't any nitro-glycerine
in there, or we should all have been turned into


shooting-stars !" answered Harry, as he turned
away. "Just hear the fellows upstairs "
It was evident that, as yet, lhey had no intention
of going back to bed, judging by the noise; and,
for once, the powers that be were inclined to be
lenient and overlook it.
The boys gathered around the fire-places in
knots; and, in spite of the cold air rushing in
through the broken window, but few had put on
more clothing than they had worn through the
fracas. They were still too much excited to shiver,
although it would have been but common prudence
to guard against colds without delay; but sleep
was out of the question so soon after such excite-
ment, and it is hard to say what evils might have
arisen had not the little Doctor suddenly appeared
with a pile of towels on his arm and carrying a pail
of water. Short, curly-headed, quick-spoken, he
took his stand by the gong, and shouted:
Let every officer, of whatever grade, come here
at once "
There was a rush for the Doctor instantly, while
the privates ceased conversation and curiously drew
near. Dane was the first officer to reach him, and
the Doctor, dipping a towel in the water, thrust it
into his hand.
Sergeant Dane Lieutenant Wylie -officers
in general take a towel apiece, soak the end in
the water and wring it out."
A dozen officers at once reached for towels and
crowded around the water-pail, nearly upsetting it
in the turmoil; and, for a moment, the dignified
officers were to be seen wringing out wet cloth like
Bombay washerwomen, while still the unsuspect-
ing privates looked on with amused curiosity.
Now, have all of you towels ? You that have,
go for the rest! If any student wants one he knows
where to get it," he added, holding up a handful.
Such a shout went up !
Gi'me a towel! "And me!" "Andme!"
A mob rushed upon the little Doctor.
Wylie jumped to the front, swinging the damp,
heavy cloth.
Charge "
And whack! came the wet towel over the fore-
most head; and whack whack whack! -
went the towels of the other officers amid a pande-
monium of shrieks and yells and laughter.
Straight through the crowd charged the officers,
with Wylie at their head, even as Richard the
Lion-hearted with his armed knights was wont to
cleave a way through the ranks of turbaned Sara-
cens; and backward, sideways, swayed the privates,
dodging, jumping, falling, scrambling,- any way to
escape the stinging blows,- snatching towels from
the merry Doctor and, armed in turn, rushing into
the writhing fray. A dozen or more of the privates







542


[MAY,


DRILL.


combined, and made a rush at Dane, Harry, and
Rankin, who, nothing loath, stood back to back, at
bay in the center of the ring. Each guarded a quar-
ter-circle, and around their feet lay towels jerked
from the incautious hands of would-be assailants
who in vain tried to regain them, being unable to
face the startling whacks of the heavy towels swung
by the practiced fencers. Three other officers
guarded a corner, two more held a window-seat
against all comers; for the privates outnumbered
them ten to one; and, once more to recall feudal
times, a thought flashed into Harry's mind that this
was not unlike a scene in the hall of some castle
which has been besieged and overpowered, when
the few remaining defenders have' gathered to
make a last stand; knights fighting against men-
at-arms, not hoping for their lives, but with the
grim, Norman determination to make their deaths
costly to the foe. This fancy gave an impetus to
his arm, a force to his blows that caused his quarter
of the circle to be avoided by all save the most
daring. And these kept cautiously out of reach,
craftily endeavoring to entice him beyond his post
and thus expose the others; but he instantly saw
through their stratagem.
Keep close, fellows," he said, speaking over
his shoulder. "If they get between us we shall
catch particular fits !"
And the trio stood close. But what craft could
not accomplish accident brought about; for it hap-
pened that Dane and Harry struck out at the same
instant, and as they swung back their towels for a
new blow, the weapons became lovingly entwined,
and Harry's blow was so much the stronger that
in the twinkling 'of an eye Dane found himself flat
upon his back, with his shoulders feeling out of
joint, and a myriad of blue and white stars scintil-
lating before his eyes as the blue-flashing elec-
tricity gleams around a dynamo.
Twenty towels arose in the air, heavy as blud-
geons; the ring broke and closed in with shouts
of exultation; but Harry took one step backward,
and standing across Ed's prostrate form, forced all
back, again and again, while Rankin coolly guarded
his quarter-circle as before. The ring became
formed again, and there was a pause in the strife;
Harry glanced around for a moment, and then
bent forward to assist Dane to rise. As he did so,
Mitchell stepped suddenly up from behind and
swung his towel around his head. Thud !
Harry Wylie fell forward over the body of his
friend without a word.
There was a loud laugh, a hiss or two, and then
a rush. But Harry did not rise. Some one quickly
seized Mitchell's towel, which seemed to hang very
heavily,-a lump of sea-coal was found to be
knotted into the end i


Elsewhere around the hall the fun was still seeth-
ing, fast and furious. Only in that little knot in
the center was there rest, like the still calm that
marks the center of a cyclone, the hollow core
around which wheel the lightning winds.
No one noticed them save to rub against them
by accident and to fly spinning off at a tangent.
The building shook and trembled under rushing
feet, the alcoves echoed and re-echoed, the ewers
and pitchers in the sleeping-rooms rattled and
clattered against one another, and now and then a
faint crash told of the fall of some insecure orna-
ment.
The little Doctor still stood by the recess, with
hands clasped behind his head, watching the frolic
with twinkling eyes and a general air indicating
that he, too, should enjoy nothing more than to
grasp a towel and rush in among them. But the
instant that his quick eye caught symptoms of im-
pending trouble,- the flash of an angry glance,
the doubling of a fist, -he stepped backward to the
great gong and swung the beater lustily around his
head.
"Whang! !"
At the stroke every voice was silent, every form
motionless; as though the Doctor had been another
Perseus and had held aloft the Gorgon's head.
Even those upon the floor made no attempt to rise,
but sat there, panting.
"Let each boy drop his towel just where he
is! the Doctor shouted. Into your beds, every
one of you, while you are warm, and, if you don't
have colds in the morning, thank your stars that
your physician is an Irishman March! "
Hurrah for the Donnybrook Doctor! shouted
a private in the rear, amid a roar of laughter, as
they scuttled toward their beds, save three or four
in the center of the room, two of whom were
holding Mitchell, each grasping a wrist with one
hand, and holding the other hand upon his shoul-
der in threatening proximity to his throat.
Harry was just struggling to his feet, a little
dazed from the heavy blow, but not much hurt,
for his thick hair and the towel acted as cushions
to deaden its force.
"Let him go, fellows, quick! don't bring the
Doctor down he whispered, hastily. "Oh, con-
found it! it's too late," for the little man was
striding down toward them with rapid steps. The
boys loosed their hold upon Mitchell, however,
and when he reached them they were adjusting
some buttons, in the most innocent manner, while,
as the only light in the hall, save the glow of the
grates, was the feeble moonlight, their faces were
not tell-tales.
"Why do you not obey orders, Wylie?" said
the Doctor, a little sternly.






DRILL.


If you please, sir, Ed and I have a few bumps,
and we would like an examination," and Harry
gingerly felt of his own cranium, on which, to
judge by external appearances, the organ of ven-
eration had suddenly doubled in size.
"Have you been fighting?" asked the Doctor,
bluntly.
No, sir; there has n't been any fight, rough
handling, that's all. And I would like to have
Ed stay with me for the night what's left of it -
if he may."
Mitchell slipped away, thoroughly ashamed of
himself. The Doctor prescribed cold water for the
bumps, and gave the desired permission, satisfied
that while something was concealed, it was wise
to avoid looking deeper, and went his way to re-
port all quiet," to the principal, who was still in
the library with the General. The preceptor list-
ened to Doctor McCarthy's report with a twinkle
in his eye and an amused smile.
I 'm afraid that there will be a big washing-
bill next Monday," he observed.
"Better that, than a bill at the apothecary's,"
the physician answered, stoutly, while the General
rubbed his hands in satisfaction over the vindica-
tion of strict discipline afforded by the night's
experience.


In the dormitory, the two wounded heroes, instead
of sleeping, discussed matters, with wet bandages
around their heads. Dane was of the opinion that
Harry ought to report Mitchell's attack; this was
decidedly opposed by Harry.
"I 'm not going to preach, but you would n't
do it yourself, if you were in my place, old fellow.
Do you remember what my mother wrote in your
autograph album ? "
Ed did; and he was glad that the darkness hid
the flush in his face as he thought of the sweet-
faced lady with gentle voice who had treated him,
a motherless boy, with almost the same care and
affection that she had lavished on her sons and
daughters; guiding and advising as though he
were indeed her son, and not a neighbor only.
Besides, -what would Harry's sister, May, think,
if she knew what advice he was giving to her
brother? And May, being four years his senior,
was looked up to by Ed as a superior being.
He remembered how she had read those verses
to him after her mother had written them, and
seemed again to hear the voice whispering them
softly in the darkness. They were simple words,
perhaps,-only a stanza with a brief refrain; but
their burden of thought was the old-time watch-
word, "IVoblesse oblige."
continued.)
















I,,



,", "I, :


' PROMPTING 'S NOT FAIR."
























OH 't is bland, and oh, 't is bloomy, f .t r '
May;
Could there be a more .lkil.ril.i, s i-.-.l.
pray ?
How the sunbeams skip and scatter,
And the sparrows chirp and chatter,
And the sweetly scented breezes -.-.1
stray !
And we 're gladsome, and we're gleeft 1. -,il
we 're gay,
And we 're highly happy-hearted,
For we 're blithely, briskly started
For a joyful, jocund, jolly holiday.

And oh, 't is glum and gloomy, though 't is
May!
Could there be a more distracting season, say?
We must hustle, we must hurry,
In a flutter and a flurry,
For the sky is direly dark and grimly gray,


I.. _. -./

-- :.i .; .
- -
- .-sir
nlIt

~].I"'~jAt


And we '11 have to hasten home the shortest way;
And we scuttle and we scamper -
What a doleful, dismal damper !.
What a dreary, drizzly, dreadful holiday !


ii/ *'- /
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: : _
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r ofrfr cr-












THE ADVICE OF MISS ALCOTT.

BY JOHN PRESTON TRUE.


THE readers of the ST. NICHOLAS have met
with a great loss. Before this is read by you, the
telegraph will have carried the sad news far and
near that our dear "Aunt Jo" has passed away.
How many happy hours are due to her! How
many young lives are the better, and braver for
the words she wrote, and the examples of her little
men and women There will be many a story
told of her own unselfish kindness; but I wish to
let her own words once more speak for themselves,
feeling sure that the advice which so met the needs
of the country boy, for whom they were first writ-
ten, will be of equal value to other boys and girls,
who would follow in her footsteps.
Once, in the audacity of youth. I wrote to Miss
Alcott a letter, the tenor of which is indicated by
her prompt, characteristic reply, herewith shown
you. It may help some of you young people as
it did me.

CONCORD, Oct. 24th.
J. P. TRUE:
DEAR SIR: I never copy or "polish," so I have
no old MSS. to send you, and if I had it would be
of little use, for one person's method is no rule for
another. Each must work in his own way, and the
only drill needed is to keep writing and profit by
criticism. Mind grammar, spelling, and punctua-
tion, use short words, and express as briefly as you
can your meaning. Young people use too many
adjectives and try to "write fine." The strong-
est, simplest words are best and no foreign ones
if it can be helped.
Write and print if you can; if not, still write and
improve as you go on. Read the best books and
they will improve your style. See and hear good
speakers and wise people, and learn of them.
Work for twenty years and then you may some
day find that you have a style and place of your
own, and can command- good pay for the same
things no one would take when you were unknown.
I know little of poetry, as I never read modern


attempts, but advise any young person to keep to
prose, as only once in a century is there a true
poet, and verses are so easy to do that it is not
much help to write them. I have so many letters
like your own that I can say no more, but wish you
success and give you, for a motto, Michael Angelo's
wise words : Genius is infinite patience.
Your friend, L. M. ALCOTT.
P. S.- The lines you send are better than many
I see, but boys of nineteen can not know much
about hearts, and had better write of things they
understand. Sentiment is apt to become senti-
mentality, and sense is always safer as well as
better drill for young fancies and feelings.
Read Ralph Waldo Emerson, and see what good
prose is, and some of the best poetry we have. I
much prefer him to Longfellow.

Years afterward, when I had achieved some
slight success, I once more wrote, thanking her
for her advice; and the following letter shows the
kindliness of heart with which she extended ready
recognition and encouragement to lesser workers
in her chosen field.

CONCORD, Sept. 7, '83.
MY DEAR MR. TRUE: Thanks for the pretty
book, which I read at once and with pleasure, for
I still enjoy boys' pranks as much as ever.
I don't remember the advice I gave you, and
should judge from this your first story that you did
not need much. Your boys are real boys, and the
girls can run, which is a rare accomplishment now-
a-days, I find. They are not sentimental either,
and that is a good example to set both your brother
writers and the lasses who read the book.
I heartily wish you success in your chosen work,
and shall always be glad to know how fast and how
far you climb on the steep road that leads to fame
and fortune.
Yours truly, L. M. ALCOTT.


VOL. XV.-35.































A CHINESE MARKET.

BY YAN PHOU LEE.


"BIRDS of a feather flock together." In China,
shops of a certain kind will be found side by side.
If you will walk with me through a long avenue
in my native place, you will find the dry-goods
stores, where all sorts of silk, woolen, and cotton
cloth are sold, at one end of the street, with possi-
bly a book-stall or pharmacy sprinkled here and
there between, and the shops which deal in food
at the other end.
Let us take our basket and hand-scales and walk
through a real Chinese market. You will need
the scales, if you don't wish to be cheated by some
of the rascally dealers. Human nature is the
same there as elsewhere, you know; and you
must take away the temptation to sin. I dare say
that very few will give you short weight willfully,
but it is just as well to provide against mistakes,
and you see that almost every buyer is similarly
provided.
The- scales are a simple affair, being a polished
and graduated wooden rod, dotted with brass pegs
which mark off the ounces and catties" (about I Y
lb.) and having two hooks fastened to the larger
end. The goods to be weighed are fastened to
the hooks, and an iron weight is put on the other
end, and so placed as to balance them.
Thus doubly armed, with scales and alertness,
let us follow the crowd through the narrow
thoroughfare. You notice that the street is paved
with long granite slabs, worn smooth by the tread
of thousands of pedestrians for many years. It is so


narrow that you may conclude that horse-teams are
not supposed to pass through. Indeed, there are
no carriages and wagons to be found in southern
China, except in the foreign settlements. But
occasionally a sedan-chair passes by, to which you
must yield the right of way.
The shops open upon the street, and all their
wares are displayed to the best advantage. The
meat markets are rather dark-looking and un-
pleasant within, for there they not only sell their
meats, but slaughter the animals on the spot and
roast them as well. The butchers stand behind a
long table facing the street, and sell you lamb, or
mutton, or pork, and sometimes venison,- all
raw, or roast pork, roast chicken and roast duck,
in any quantity you may desire.
The way the meats are roasted may be of some
interest. After the animals are slaughtered and
well cleaned, inside and out, they are hung on
iron hooks. The oven is of brick, very large, and
about four feet high and three feet in diameter
at the top, and is now heated red-hot by a blaz-
ing wood-fire. The animals are put in the oven
after the wood is burned down to coals, and sus-
pended by means of iron rods across the top,
which is then tightly covered up, as is also the
draught. You would be surprised to see how
quickly the meats are roasted. It takes hardly
fifteen minutes for them to be thoroughly cooked,
and ready for sale. The meats thus roasted are
delicious. The skins turn red and those of pigs






A CHINESE


are very crisp. Cut half a pound, or a quarter if
you wish, and pay fifty or twenty-five cash, which,
respectively, equal five and two-and-a-half cents
of American money. The mottoes pasted up in
this and other shops are suggestive : "We cheat
neither young nor old ; May wealthy customers
visit us often ; As fast as the wheels may our
goods circulate; May wealth increase in my
presence."
Each shop has, usually under the table or
the counter outside, a
shrine dedicated to the
God of Wealth, before
which incense is burn-
ed morning and even-
ing; and on the first
_- and fifteenth of each
month, when offerings
of food also are made,
Candles are burned be-
fore it.
SDried fish of many
kinds are sold in the
stores, but fresh fish,
and sea-food generally,
Share usually sold by
men who bring them
from a great distance,
'early in the morning
A PURCHASER WITH HIS SCALES. Or the afternoon, in
baskets. Behind these they squat, and hawk their
wares in loud tones. That is the reason why a
Chinese market is so noisy and animated. You
ask the price of shad, for instance, or of crabs, and
the dealer raises the price of an ounce by so many
cash, which you have to beat down. What Adam
Smith called the higglingg of the market," exists
here in its perfection. After wasting considerable
time in talking and splitting differences, you at last
decide to buy, or the trader concludes to sell.
But however much you may congratulate yourself
on having made a good bargain, you can not be
certain that others may not make much better
bargains with the same man. Vegetables are sold
by other dealers, and the same process must be
gone through before you can make a fair purchase.
Grocery stores are plenty, and there you will find
on sale all sorts of sauces, preserves, sugars, and
so forth, in fact whatever is dealt in by grocers in
America.
Beef is not often eaten by the Chinese, on ac-
count of their religious scruples, most of them being
tinged, more or less, with Buddhism, but espe-


MARKET. 547

cially because the ox is used in ploughing. Occa-
sionally you will find a stall for the sale of beef.
Through the same prejudice, little cow's milk is
used by the people, and that little is made into
thin cakes, well salted, to be taken as a relish.
But a kind of cheese is made of bean curd. The
beans are ground in hand-mills and dissolved in
water, then strained and steamed. The result is a
perfectly white cake, something like blanc-mange.
It is eaten with shrimp sauce. This cake is also
dried. There is also a sauce made from beans.
You perhaps wonder why I have not described
the cats, kittens, and dogs, which are said to be
the common food of the Chinese people. The
reason is because no such things are to be found in
the market. In fact, I know of no place where such
articles of food can be had, except in a low part
of Canton, where people who are almost starved






















A CHINESE BUTCHER.

will buy almost anything to sustain life. The
Chinese people live on wholesome food, as you
will learn from good authorities. They eat rice as
you eat bread. They make cakes of wheat, too.
Potatoes, cabbages, greens, melons, and the
various cereals, are raised in great plenty and sold
comparatively cheaply. The reason why things
are sold so cheaply there, compared with the prices
in America, is because gold and silver, being
wholly imported, are very dear. Prices will rise
there quickly enough as soon as they have ex-
changed their tea and silk for a great quantity
of those metals.












i i" i ).
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^ '' '- ".

I 1 y /



;I I '
i


' I -, I


Lot

S---


HOUSEKEEPING SONGS. No. III.

DRYING AND IRONING.
WORDS BY MARY J. JACQUES. MUSIC BY T. C. H.
ee. In the beezy sun hine, On thedewy grasso.

I. In thebreez-y sun shine, On the dew-y grass,

\ -- ...


Here she tip toes reach ing, There she spreads for bleach ing,

___ -= ----
.. __ i __ _.[


AVy^






HOUSEKEEPING SONGS. NO. III.


f.
~ E-~~L


Dain ty danc ing lass,



n mare
l-------h-- -E==


II.
When the sunny breezes
Made her washing white,
Wrapping, smoothing, holding,
Sprinkling, rolling, folding,
Comes the busy sprite.


Dain ty danc- ing lass.



f Im f mac. p __3_
o. I -Z n .I


III.
Passes and repasses,
Folds so deftly laid,
Now the iron sliding,
Passing now and biding,
She's a sonsy maid.


RICHES AND POVERTY.

BY G. A. WOODS.


NOT many years ago there lived a young girl
who was exceedingly fortunate.
Her home had massive walls and towers, with a
great dome, beautifully ornamented, through which
the light came with ever-changing effects. She had
a large fortune, and among her jewels were, a
golden crown that no one could imitate, a very
large diamond, and a great many smaller ones.
There was, besides, a great gold locket, with a
picture in it; while she had more pearls than she
could use.
Surrounding her home was an immense park
that abounded in wild game and beautiful trees
and flowers. Every one who came to see her
brought a precious gift. Some even brought her
everything they had to give. Every year she took
a long journey and saw the most beautiful sights.
Her traveling trip never tired her in the least.
Would you not like to have been in the place of
this fortunate young girl ?
In that same locality there lived a girl who,
you will think, had a hard time of it.
She lived in a log-hut in the woods, and dressed
in coarse clothes. She had to work hard, for her
mother was ill a great deal of the time; and as
she was an only child, a large part of the household
duties fell to her. Then every day she had to
search the woods for their cow, and milk her; and
in their season she had to gather blackberries and


raspberries and blueberries to help out their scanty
supplies. Would you not dislike to have such a
fate? How much rather you would live like the
first girl I spoke of! But what would you say if I
should tell you they both were one and the same
person ? Let us see how that may be.
The massive walls and towers of which I spoke
were the grand, high mountains around her valley-
home; and the great dome was the sky, which
was just as much hers as if it had been created
especially for her. Her great fortune consisted of
youth, health, sunshine, pure air, good looks and
good nature, flowers and fruits, and a thousand
and one of the best things of this world.
That golden crown you will guess to have been
her beautiful golden hair, of which I am afraid she
was a little vain. Her diamonds were the sun and
stars, and she never worried for fear they should
be stolen. Her golden locket was the moon, and
the picture the one we all can see in it. Her
pearls were dewdrops; the precious gift that every
one brought was love, and this she well deserved.
The long journey she took every year was the
wondrous journey around the sun to Springland,
Summerland, Autumn, and back to icy Winter.
Every night revealed new glories in the heavens;
every morning brought renewed life and health.
Now, if you wish a moral to my story, search
carefully, and perhaps you may find it.


549


E25-








THE STORY OF THE MORNING-GLORY SEED.

By MARGARET EYTINGE.

LITTLE girl one day in the month of May dropped a morn-
ing-glory seed into a small hole in the ground and said:
"Now, Morning-glory Seed, hurry and grow, grow, grow
until you are a tall vine covered with pretty green leaves
and lovely trumpet-flowers." But the earth was very dry,
S/ for there had been no rain for a long time, and the poor
wee seed could not grow at all. So, after lying patiently
in the small hole for nine long days and nine long nights, it said to the
ground around it: 0 Ground, please give me a few drops of water to
soften my hard brown coat, so that it may burst open and set free my two
green seed-leaves, and then I can begin to be a vine But the ground said:
"That you must ask of the rain."
So the seed called to the rain: "O Rain, please come down and wet the
ground around me so that it may give me a few drops of water. Then will
my hard brown coat grow softer, and softer until at last it can burst open
and set free my two green seed-leaves and I can begin to be a vine!" But
the rain said: "I can not unless the clouds hang lower."
So the seed called to the clouds: "0 Clouds, please hang lower and
let the rain come down and wet the ground around me, so that it may give
me a few drops of water. Then will my hard brown coat grow softer and
softer until at last it can burst open and set free my two green seed-leaves
and I can begin to be a vine!" But the clouds said: "The sun must hide,
first."
So. the seed called to the sun : O Sun, please hide for a little while so
that the clouds may hang lower, and the rain come down and wet the ground
around me. Then will the ground give me a few drops of water and my
hard brown coat grow softer and softer until at last it can burst open and
set free my two green seed-leaves and I can begin to be a vine!" "I will,"
said the sun; and he was gone in a flash.
Then the clouds began to hang lower and lower, and the rain began to
fall faster and faster, and the ground began to get wetter and wetter, and
the seed-coat began to grow softer and softer until at last open it burst !-
and out came two bright green seed-leaves and the Morning-glory Seed
began to be a Vine !




































ONE LITTLE SHOE.

BY AMY E. BLANCHARD.


"I belong," said the little shoe,
"To a baby fair with golden hair -
With dimpled smiles
And cunning wiles
And eyes of blue."

SWhat do you do,
you little shoe, "' _
All the day? -
Tell me, I pray,
Little shoe, what you do ?"

SUpstairs and down," said the wee shoe,
"Two little feet,
Dainty and sweet,
Patter about
Indoors and out,
And take me, too."


What do you hear?
How they talk,
Where you walk,
You little shoe ? "


" What do I hear? said the dainty shoe;
Tender words, songs of birds,
Baby-sighs, lullabies,
And laughter, too."
"Where do you go, you dear wee shoe?
Do you weary
For land and sea,
For something new? "
" Sometimes I sail," said the wee shoe,
"Across the sea;
'Twixt you and


Now, tell me true,


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[MAY,


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


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J A K .. N H L L .F .1 I.

J AC K- IN I HL. -' ULLPI I.


GOOD-DAY, dear May lovers and May queens!
It is delightful to see you here in this bright spring
weather. By-the-way, have you all remembered
to put on your overshoes? If so, stand around
and listen to this letter which comes to propound
A PUZZLING QUESTION.
ALBANY, JANUARY 25, 1888.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I have just been
reading your February talk in ST. NICHOLAS, and
have decided to write and ask you a question which
has been bothering me for some time. Can you tell
me the difference between a vegetable and a fruit?
I have asked a great many people, but nobody has
been able to answer. When I first thought of it I
supposed I had only to ask and be told, but found
to my surprise I had propounded quite a difficult
question. Surely, dear Jack, you should know, if
any one does, being a sort of cousin to both.
Your friend and well-wisher,
ANNA M. TALCOTT.

IT will never do, my chicks, for you to allow this
query to remain unanswered. It requires careful
consideration on your part, so we must give you
time. Fruit of the earth is one thing. And fruit
of the market is another, I suppose. The dear
Little School-ma'am, who knows everything, can
not give me terse, satisfactory definitions of fruit and
vegetable that are calculated to relieve Anna Tal-
cott's mind. The dictionaries and cyclopedias,
I 'm told, have formed a league to keep up the
confusion. Elsie Goodrich, a little girl in the Red
School-house, says the only way to find out is by
cooking. If you can eat it raw and enjoy it, it 's a
fruit; if it must be cooked to be good, it's a vege-
table. That is well enough, as far as it goes, but
I 'm sure it will not satisfy Anna Talcott. All you
can do is to study and observe, and bother older


persons with questions till further notice. It is a
hard world.
Here is trouble for Elsie Goodrich! The Little
School-ma'am has just informed me that the hap-
piest boy in the Red School-house eats, on an
average, ten raw turnips a week, and that he has
many followers. And how about olives ?
ARBOR DAYS.
ARBOR Days, or tree-planting festivals, are happy
days for our country, and I am glad whenever my
birds tell me of any such celebration. They are
held in many parts of the United States, and are
frequent in the far West, I am told. The Little
School-ma'am says that on one Arbor Day in
April, a year or two ago, nearly! a million trees
were planted in Kansas alone. So, cultivate
Arbor Days, children, and teachers of children,
and do your part toward keeping this sunny
land green and flourishing. My birds assume
that trees are designed only for their benefit the
dear little innocents! But think, my hearers,
of all the uses to which trees are put; think of
their beauty, their value, and the important work
they do in the economy of nature !
As to this last point, it might be well for you
to inquire further. There is a great deal to be
learned, I am told, in regard to the effect of trees
upon the atmosphere, even upon the climate. But
I am not quite able to inform you on these matters.
Certain it is, however, that in one way or another,
there is a steady demand for trees, and if nobody
plants fresh ones there is danger of the supply
giving out, in time. So says my old gray owl,
and he knows.

WHO CAN ANSWER THIS
DEAR JACK: We think that we have heard of blue anemones, but
we are not quite sure. Are there such things? And if there- are,
where do they grow? We have often seen white anemones, and
also pink ones. Soon they will be coming again, and we four are
glad.
With love to the Little School-ma'am, your loving friends,
FANNY, MARIAN, DIANA, and ELEANOR.
WAKING THE BRANCHES.
Now is the time of year for tempting the little
sleeping branches to wake up somewhat earlier
than usual. Carefully cut a few from fruit trees,
maples, willows, even from stiff and leafless gar-
den shrubs, however drear and wintry they may
appear. Put them in water (which should be
changed every day); give them sunshine and
shelter, place them in-doors and watch for the
waking! Soon you will see swelling buds, then
the blossoms, and, later, the green leaves, if you
have pear or cherry branches, or cuttings from
flowering-almond bushes, or from Forsythia or
pyrus Jafonica. In this way my young city-folk
may enjoy the sweet spring blooming even before
it comes to their country cousins.

HENRY OF BLOIS.
LINCOLN, NEBRASKA.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I am a devoted reader of ST.
NICHOLAS, and particularly your part of it. In the January num-
ber I came across the question, Who was Henry of Blois ?" He


552






z888.] JACK-IN-TI

was brother of King Stephen, and Bishop of Winchester and Car-
dinal Legate of the Pope as well. He seems to have been haughty.
Every reader of English history knows Stephen unjustly kept the
crown of England from the only heiress and daughter of Henry I.
Well, Henry of Blois, though brother of Stephen, was not brother
of his cause, but adhered to that of the Empress Matilda. Unfor-
tunately, the Empress Matilda was rude and haughty and offended
Henry de Blois and lost his friendship. I am indebted for the
above facts to Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England,"
a book I am very fond of reading.
Your interested reader, AGNEs STEVENS.
A RIVAL OF BRUCE'S SPIDER.

You all have heard of Bruce's spider? Yes?
I thought so. Well, here is a wren that also de-
serves to be remembered, though, so far, no in-
teresting historical person has utilized him, so to
speak. I learn of this bird through a newspaper
scrap that has just blown in upon my pulpit. It
is very fitly headed:

"A PERSISTENT WREN."
A WREN built its nest in an old fruit-can, nailed to the gate-post
of A. J. Diehl, of Normal, III. The nest was destroyed, but was
renewed twelve times on twelve successive days, having been pulled
to pieces each time by an inquiring naturalist as sdon almost as built.
The bird was then left in undisputed possession

And now, with everybody's permission, while we
are thinking of these energetic and seemingly
intelligent little birds, I will take up something
written on purpose for you by an observing young
friend of ST. NICHOLAS:

THE WREN ARCHITECTS.

THE stories that we love best are the ones that
Papa tells us, beginning, When I was a little fel-
low," instead of "Once upon a time," a "truly,
truly, black and bluely" story, and this is one of
them:
"When I was a little fellow, your grandfather
moved from the city, and I, for the first time,
lived something of a country life. Everything was
full of interest to me; but, above all, I was interested
in the bird-life about me. It was spring-time, and
the birds were having a right busy time of it, look-


HE-PULPIT. 553

ing up their new homes. One family, a pretty
pair of wrens, interested me particularly. They
chose the leader from the piazza-roof of our house
for the site of their new home.
You know the leader is the tin pipe that carries
the water from the roof, and this one was a partic-
ularly large one. How I wished I might safely stop
them at their work, knowing, as I did, that the first
real storm would wash away their home nest, rest-
ing so daintily at the very mouth of the pipe.
Well, it so happened that they hardly had fin-
ished their nest, when a severe storm came and tore
away the new wren-home. As the water dashed
through the leader, the poor wrens flew distractedly
about, and finally settled on a neighboring branch
of a tree.
"When the storm had cleared, they continued to
twitter and fly about for a long time, and then flew
away. To my surprise, the next day the pair were
busily at work again in the very self-same place
over the leader And by and by I felt quite sure
that there must be some tiny eggs in the little
nest, as I saw Papa Wren flying back and forth all
alone, politely carrying home a limp worm in his
beak. I really dreaded another rain, and resolved,
if possible, to watch the unfortunate little family
when it should come.
"At last t the storm came, and, to my amazement,
the water came freely from the leader, apparently
creating no commotion whatever. When the rain
had ceased, I took a long ladder and climbed up to
investigate the leader puzzle. Sure enough, there
was the tiny nest (for wrens are very little birds, you
know), with the mother-bird's bright eyes peep-
ing over the edge; but beneath the nest, so that
the nest rested safely upon it, was a perfectly
arched little bridge built of pliable twigs, and
under this bridge the water had run safely, leaving
the little family really high and dry."
Now, dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit, this is a true story,
for Papa says it is. I have two beautiful birds'
nests that I found deserted by their builders; but I
have not yet found one with a bridge built under it.


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GOING FOR A SWIM.


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PRACTICAL ADVICE.

Gentleman (having heard the little girl speaking French as he entered the elevator): "I wish that I could learn to speak French as
well as you do, my child!"
Little Girl: Then your nurse must be French, and you must never, never speak a word of English,-it is the only way! A
French nurse, you know, can not talk English."




BOATING.

BY ERIC PALMER.-A VERY YOUNG CONTRIBUTOR.


CHAPTER 1. MAKING THE BOATS.

ONCE upon a time, there were two boys whose names were Billy
Fray and Tom Dray.
One fine day, while Billy and Tom were deciding what to play,
Tom started up and said:
Let's make some boats; one of us can make a row-boat, and
the other of us can make a sail-boat. The sail-boat will be a yacht,
and a fishing-vessel, too, if we want to; don't you think it will be
nice? "
Yes," said Billy, "if we can ever make them; but why not buy
them ? "


Why, we have n't money enough, of course," said Tom; "boats
cost like everything; I don't know but some cost over a thousand
dollars."
Phew said Billy. I never knew they cost as much as that."
Then Tom laughed heartily.
They worked all the afternoon until evening.
In the midst of it Tom said:
"Well, after all, I don't think it will be worth the trouble"; but
Billy coaxed him until he went on. After the boats were done, they
were just as good as if they had been bought.
The next day after they were done, the boys thought they would
have a row and sail in the newly made boats.







BOATING.


Tom did n't know how to row, so Billy taught him.
Since they lived right on the sand, they did n't have very far to
drag their boats to get them into the sea.
When Tom was just beginning, Billy thought he'd play a trick
on Tom; so one time, when they were out rowing together, Billy
said:
Why don't you catch a crab ? "
And Tom said: I don't know how."
Why, just put your oar deep down into the water, and then
take a long sweep with it, so as to let the crab have time enough to
get on, and then take it up and see what you have on the end of
your oar."
So he did as he was bid, and instead of getting anything on the
end, he just got pulled over in the bottom of the boat, and he said
when he had got up:
I thought you might be playing a trick on me "
(To be continued.)

CHAPTER II. THE STORM.
"WELL," said Billy, I can't play any more tricks on you like
that."
"Well, I 'm glad," said Tom, "for I did n't like that very
much."
I should n't think you would," said Billy, "for the first time I
had that trick played on me, my head went against one of the seats
and hurt a little."
I should think it would; did it make your nose bleed ?"
"No, of course not," said Billy indignantly. "A little thing
like that would n't make my nose bleed; would it yours?'"
"Yes, I don't know but it would; it might-and it might not,"
said Tom, a little slowly.
That afternoon they resolved to try the yacht,- which afterward
they called "The Mayflower." They tied their row-boat (which
they called The Hepsie ") to the stern and started off.
It was a nice day, but they had n't been gone half an hour before
a storm came up; and just before that Billy said:
Let's go home, for it is getting a little late; see, it's getting
dark, but I noticed the clock as I came out of the house, and it said
2 o'clock exactly, and now it must be about 5. Now, should n't you
think so ?"
"Why, yes, I should," said Tom; "let 's steer home."
All right, go ahead," shouted Billy. I guess we can get home
in time for dinner, even if we are one or two miles from our beach;
don't you think so? "
"Yes, I guess so," said Tom; "but stop! stop Put on all sail;
I feel some drops of rain, and a storm is coming up; put on all sail
as quick as you can, before the storm gets any worse."
When they got on all sail, they went skimming along mighty fast,
and it almost took the breath away from them. It went so fast the
water came up on deck, but they did n't mind that, they just wanted
to get home before the storm came up; and Tom rowed as best he
could, and so did Billy, but neither of them seemed to make their
little skiff go fast enough; they leaned over so as to prevent the
water from coming into their eyes.
The little skiff rocked to and fro, and one time when she made a
great lurch to one side, over she went. Fortunately for the two
children they knew how to swim very well, and they were not far
from land, so they struck out with all their might, a. i :
tired and saying, "Oh, dear me! I think I shall J ..' I .
their feet touched the sand, and then they shouted Hurrah, we are
saved and went into their houses dripping wet.
(To be continued.)

CHAPTER III. GETTING THE BOATS.
IN a few days the boys wanted to take another sail; so when their
mothers did n't know it, they slipped out-of-doors and ran.
Pretty soon Billy said:
"Let's take another sail."
All right," said Tom, "get your boat."
Come along with me," said Billy, "and I '11 get the boat quick
enough." So they went to the place where they had kept her, and
he saw she was not there; then he said, with blank amazement,
"Where is she?"
Why, out at sea; don't you remember a few days ago ?"
"Oh, yes! now I remember- she got tipped over a few days
ago, did n't she ? "
Yes, we did; but how are we going to get the boat and go out
in it, and get her up in some funny way ? But maybe we can't get
her over at all, and even if we do, it will be all full of water, and
we '1 have to bail it out, and that will take two or three days, and I
don't think it worth the trouble, do you ? "
Well, yes, I do; but where is your row-boat?" said Tom, with
a laugh inside of him that he would n't let out because he did n't
want Billy to know his trick, and he said to himself, You've played
a trick on me, so I '11 play a trick on you."
Then Billy said, "Oh, yes, we tied our boat on behind the
Mayflower,' did n't we? Oh, yes! I 'm forgetting all the time.
Is n't it funny ? "
I '11 tell you a way to get the boats, and that is, to go to one of


our neighbors and ask to go out with them and get the boats up;
don't you think that's a good way ?"
Yes, a very good way."
All right, let's do it, then."
"Very well, come ahead."
(To be continued.)

CHAPTER IV. ANOTERn STORM.
SWELL," said Billy, "after all this trouble, do you think we
have had as much fun out of these boats as we meant to have ?"
Well, I don'tknow," said Tom, but I think just about as much
as we ought to have; don't you think so? "
No," said Billy, I don't, for that time we tipped over wasn't
very nice.
"That's so," said Tom ; "but we 've had a good lot of fti out
of 'em, anyhow, have n't we ? "
"Yes, a pretty good lot," said Billy, a little suspiciously.
That night, before going to supper, the boys planned to have a
sail the next morning after breakfast, unless it was cloudy or showed
any signs of a storm. So the next morning they were up and
dressed early, for they wanted to make plans before breakfast, and
carry them out after breakfast, if nothing happened to prevent.
Right the minute they were done breakfast, without asking to be
excused, or to fold up their napkins or anything, they hurried as
fast as they could.
This time they thought they would leave the row-boat behind.
"Because," said Tom, "if we get t'pp-d i er again, and get to
shore, we can have it to get the '. I r in."
"Very true," said Billy solemnly, for the thought of the wreck
made him shiver.
Well, they went out; and suddenly very suddenly-a storm
came upon them.
The night they got wrecked their fathers gave them a long in-
struction how to manage a sail-boat; so this time they did as their
fathers told them to. and they got on pretty well for a short time,
when all at once a gigantic wave came tip and gave a great sweep
over the little uncontrolled skiff, then another just like the one be-
fore it, and knocked the little thing right over ; and this time the
boys were farther away fiom land than they had ever been before,
and, even good swimmers as they were, they thought they should
drown, because they knew they just could swim to land before. So
Tom said, "We can't swim to shore, because we are farther out
than we were before, and we just got to land then, so 1 'm going for
good." Then he made a great plunge and never came up again,
and so did Billy, and neither of them came up again.
(To be continued.)

CHAPTER V. MOURNING.
AFTER the two fathers had talked over the matter for a little
while, they appointed that at o1 o'clock they would start out and
inquire if any of the people had seen two boys out in a sail-boat in a
storm, and a lot of people said No, they had n't." So then they
had to ask the next person that came along until they got a lot of
people going along with them, and some were the boys'friends, and
some were total strangers; but they all were anxious to get the
boys back again if they could. By a little instruction from one of
them, and by going where he told them to, the men and women
found out that the Mayflower was gone from hermooring-place,
and by looking through an opera-glass they could see far out at sea
a ship blown over on her side, and they could make out these words
on the side uppermost, "The Mayflower."
Then, just as soon as the two fathers saw these words, they both
cried out, That is our sons' ship. I remember The Mayflower'
was her name. Our sons are drowned Our sons are drowned !
Now, how can we get our sons up from the bottom of the sea? "
"I don't know," said all the others that were standing around,
" unless you take a well-trained diver and send him down to the bot-
tom, and he 'll get them up for you."
Well, that would be a good way, but where are we going to get
a diver? and even if we do get one, he may not go down for us.
And then, when we get a diver, where shall we get our boat ? "
I can get you both, sir, for I am the diver, and here is the
boat. When would you like them ? "
Now, if you please, sir; you're very kind."
Oh, not at all, sir; I do such things often for people."
After they had got the boys they had a funeral, and on the grave-
stone of Billy there were these words:
Little lamb, who made thee ? Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life and made thee feed by the stream and o'er the mead ?
Gave thee clothing of delight,- softest clothing, woolly, bright?
Gave thee such a tender voice, making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee ? Dost thou know who made thee ?
And on Tom's grave-stone there were these words:
Little lamb, I 'll tell thee, little lamb, I 'II tell thee,
He is called by thy name, for he calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and he is mild; he became a little child;
I a child and thou a lamb, we are called by his name.
Little lamb, God bless thee Little lamb, God bless thee !
The End.















THE LETTER-BOX.


Erratum -The reference beneath the frontispiece of the March
ST. NICHOLAS to p. 436 should have read See p. 396."

A friend sends us a bit of information concerning a place men-
tioned in Mr. E. V. Smalley's article relating to the famous Lafitte
brothers, in ST. NICHOLAS for March. Our correspondent writes:
" The author of the interesting article An Ancient Haunt of Pi-
rates,' in your March number, omits to tell us the origin of the name
of Barataria Bay. Lafitte and his followers always claimed that
their offense was not piracy, but barratry-in Spanish, barateria,
which means a 'cheat.' Barataria Bay is simply Barratry Bay, or
the bay where cheating is going on."


WHITNEY'S POINT, BROOME Co., N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you and tell
you how much I like your magazine. I think it is decide0y the
best magazine published, with no exceptions. I have taken it as
long as I can remember, and there never was a time when I did not
like it, and I do not think there will ever be a time when I shall tire
of it. Mamma and the older members of the family enjoy it as much
as I do. I think that Louisa M. Alcott and Mrs. Burnett are my
favorite authors. "Little Lord Fauntleroy" is the most beautiful
story I ever read.
1 took part in two ST. NICHOLAS plays which were acted here,
"The Land of Nod" and The Magic Pen." The parts were all
taken by girls,- there was not a boy in either play.
I think the Letter-box" is a great institution, and I love to
read the letters.
I think I will ask a conundrum which all who love ST. NICHOLAS
as I do, can guess very easily. Name something that can not be
improved ?" The answer is "ST. NICHOLAS," Of course. I have
written quite a long letter now, and so I will close with "Long life
to ST. NICHOLAS." GRACE F. E-- .
NEW HAVEN, CONN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy six years old. I have
taken you one year, and hope I may always have you for my Christ-
mas present. I like you very much. I thought I would make a
few pictures for you. I made three this morning while my mamma
was busy. I asked her if I might send them, and 1 saw her smile.
She said "Yes." I would like to see them printed in my ST.
NICHOLAS. Your* Brownies" are funny little men, Good night,
dear old ST. NICHOLAS. Your little friend, ROBERT C. COLE.
WE thank our young artist for the pictures which accompanied his
letter, and regret that our engraver has been too busy to engrave
them.

SCOUGHALL, NORTH BERWICK, SCOTLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps some of our fellow-readerswould
like to hear about the Bass Rock," to which we often go in sum-
mer, as we live close to it. We take a little steam launch from
"Canty Bay," for the rock is two miles from shore. It is four hun-
dred feet high, rising sheer up out of the sea, except on the south
side, where we land, at one spot when the wind is east, and at an-
other when it is west.
Next to the rock itself, the solan geese take up most of our atten-
tion. These birds have some very curious habits; they lay their
single eggs on ledges of the rock, some of which are so narrow one
would think there was scarcely room for the egg (which is about the
size of a turkey's), much less for the parent bird, which hatches the
egg by standing with one foot upon it; hence its name (sole on),
'some people think. These geese only inhabit one other rock in Great
Britain (Ailsa Craig). They all go away for the winter months,
and come again in spring, nearly always on the Ist of February.
When the bird is quite young it is a little downy ball, but becomes
covered with black feathers, which gradually each season become
more and more speckled with white till, at five years old, it is en-
tirely white, with only black tips to each wing, and measures six feet
from tip to tip. The Bass mallow," peculiar to the rock, has been
almost all carried away by botanists.
There are many other birds besides the geese on the Bass,"
such as sea-gulls, guillemots, kittiwakes, cormorants, and quantities
of pretty little "jaminories" with their red legs and bills, which
dive in every direction. There is a cave right through the Bass,"


which venturesome people can explore in calm weather when the
water is low. There is also an old chapel and a prison on the rock,
in one of the cells of which an old ancestor of ours, Colonel Black-
adder, the martyr, was confined for seven years, and then died
there. This Blackadder was a Covenanter" and suffered for his
religion.
"(The Bass was the last stronghold in Great Britain that held out
for the Stuarts. This shore is very rocky, and they say people who
lived here long ago were so bad they were called the pagans of
Scoughall," for they would tie a horse's head to its knee, and with
a lantern attached to the cord, drive it along the cliffs on a stormy
night to look like a vessel riding at anchor, and so cause a wreck by
alluring any passing ship on to the rocks; then the inhabitants
would kill any survivors and take the spoils. People say the cellars
under our house used to be filled with smuggled brandy. We still
have many wrecks, but we try to save the lives instead of destroying
them. Our papa is captain of a volunteer life-saving corps, which
has done good service. Only two miles from here is Tantallon Cas-
tle, which Sir Walter Scott mentions in '"Marmion." They have
just opened an underground entrance from the inside of the castle
into the outside dungeon, and are also clearing out many built-up
rooms and staircases. The battle-field of Donne Hill and Dunbar
Castle are also within sight of our windows.
I am your constant and admiring reader, AGNES DALE.


NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Although we have been taking you more
than ten years I have never written to you before, and probably you
have not missed it, as you have so many letters from all over the
world; yet I don't think I ever saw any from this part of Virginia.
We have been living here for about seven years, ever since Papa
bought the place, which consists of the Bridge" and about 3000
acres of land.
Our cottage stands not more than one hundred feet from the top of
the "Bridge," but we are very careful not to venture near the fearful
precipices, which are over 215 feet high.
My sister and I have a great many pets of every description;
among others, four dogs (a pug, a mastiff, a collie, and a Newfound-
land), two little ponies that we brought from Florida last winter,
twelve Jersey cows, and three lovely goats; and last, but not least,
an English bullfinch which can whistle two tunes perfectly.
We have grown too large to ride our ponies, but we drive them in
a little phaeton, and have great fun. I am afraid we drive them very
recklessly, as you will think when I tell you that we have worn out
three pairs of wheels since last spring.
Should ST. NICHOLAS chance to be traveling this way we would
be glad to see him at Natural Bridge, and be sure to send your card
to GRETCHEN PARSONS,
"Jefferson Cottage."
MoRRISTOWN, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you, as I have
not seen any letter from here, and tell your readers something: If
you take an egg and shake it twenty or thirty minutes, and then put
it on a perfectly level surface, it will stand up straight. I have both
seen it and done it myself a great many times. I take you con-
stantly, and have a little fox-terrier dog, and my sister has a canary-
bird that always looks for me in the morning to pick my finger. I
can also hitch my dog to a sled, and he will pull me on a run.
Your little friend, GERALD B. W- .

WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write to tell you of the fun we boys
and girls had by acting some plays published in your pages. The
Jolly Old Abbot of Canterbury" is in Vol. III., page 123. I took
the part of the Jolly Abbot. The parts were very easy to learn, and
the audience enjoyed it immensely. Then we had The Magician's
Lesson," which is in Vol. VI., page 60. Then we had charades,
which were also found in your columns. I hope other readers who
see this will get up these plays, as they afford pleasure and instruc-
tion at the same time. My sister has taken you since you first came
out in November, 1873, and had you bound every year.
Your affectionate reader, AA BIRCH C--


SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Your cheery red cover brightens my house
every year, and makes us glad to see you.







THE LETTER-BOX.


557


I am an only child, and am generally very lonely, as I don't go to
school on account of my health, but I will tell you about my pets.
I have three cats and two dogs. The cats' names are "Pequo,"
"Pollade," and Noctie." I do not like common names. When I
want the cats to look extra nice I take a sponge and smear
rich cream all over them, which they immediately lick 11 ... i ;i..
gives them a fine gloss. I have taken the ST. NICHOLAS for seven
years, and enjoy it more than any other magazine.
Your devoted friend, M. J. DUNCAN.


WASHINGTON BARRACKS, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just been reading your lovely maga-
zine. I think that "Sara Crewe was splendid, and I am so sorry it
is finished. My Papa is in the army, and we live a long way
from the city. I go to school every morning at 8 o'clock, and do
not get back until 4 in the afternoon. I think Mrs. Cleveland is very
pretty, and I am going to one of her receptions very soon. Another
little girl and I sent her our birthday books, and she and her husband
wrote in them. It is time I was stopping, for my letter is getting
long. Your devoted reader, JENNIE D. H-- .


LY.lM, CHESHIRE, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the February number, among the letters
from your American correspondents, I read one asking the question,
"Why were not all the kings of England crowned immediately upon
ascending the throne ? I think there are two very good reasons why
they should not be crowned: First, it is a grand public ceremony,
and therefore needs a great deal of preparation, which certainly could
not be begun till after the former king's death; and secondly, it
would not be thought kind or respectful to have such a scene of
rejoicing too soon after a king's or queen's death. We have taken
you for nearly seven years, and think you nicer than any other
magazine. 1 am always very interested in the Letter-box." We
thought Sara Crewe was going to be a much longer story, and
hope Mrs. Burnett will soon write another.
I remain yours sincerely, IDA S-.


THE MANSE, HYDE PARK, BELFAST.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have taken you since i88o, and enjoy you
greatly. I am a little Irish girl, and think Ireland is a lovely place.
I love all your stories, especially "Miss Minchin's School," and
"His One Fault."
I am your delighted reader, B. CRAIG HOUSTON.


ONEKAMA, MICH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My kind Grandpa, who lives in Canada,
has been sending you to me for more than two years. I guess it
must be because he knows I have no brothers nor sisters, and few
playmates. We live by a pretty lake, with hills and woods around
it, and lots of beautiful little brooks running into it, which all come
from springs. Some of them are mineral springs and taste queer.
People come here in summer and live in a hotel near our home, so
that they can drink the spring water, and go sailing and fishing. I
shall be glad when the w snow and ice are gone, so that we can ramble
about as we please, once more, and watch the steamboats and
schooners sail in and out from Lake Michigan, which is three miles
off. When the boats run, my Aunts and other friends come oftener to
see us; but now the snow is tlr'r- f? -1-er '-l it i' dull and solemn
everywhere outdoors. Last ...-. ,' HI. -.'I. I- -. the sun went
down, the sky was beautiful, ... i -.. r -. i fiery streak that
seemed to shoot straight up out of Lake Michigan. I am eight years
old, and am learning to read and write at home, because I have not
been as strong asr.. ... ..1. 1:. I -y off; but I am
to begin in the spr .., i i- ,,., I. r down so that
you could read it easier. Mamma reads to r'' think
ST. NICHOLAS stories are the nicest, and j. ... J ..... and
"The Brownies" the best of all. I like the war stories too, and
draw monitors on my blackboard.
Yours truly, L. S. HARMER.


SYCAMORE, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy of seventeen, but my sisters
and I still like ST. NICHOLAS as much as ever. We have been tak-
ing it since i881, and have had the volumes bound. We all like the
stories, especially the continued ones. My sist e. -- '
ing their favorite- Little Lord Fauntleroy." T' -. -
Companion and "Harper's Young People," so that we are well
supplied with reading matter.
Noticing in one of my old books the extraordinary ages of differ-
ent animals given, I thought I would mention my mother's canary
Fritz, by name. He lived in our family ten or eleven years. He
died literally from old age, as he was, to the best of my knowl-
edge, thirteen, or possibly fourteen years when he died.


This is a city of about four thousand people, and, if I do say it,
one of the prettiest west of Chicago. We have three ward schools
(graded) and a high school. I am a senior in the high school. I
am a bicycle, using a Columbia, 57-inch, and I wish that you
would publish more bicycle stories.
A reader, DAN. P. WILD.

SARATOGA, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy ten years old, and have
taken you for over a year. I have two brothers and two sisters,
and we all enjoy hearing Mamma read your nice stories to us. We
liked "Juan and Juanita" the best of all; and Papa brought us
home a dog when we were reading it, which looked a good deal
like Amigo in that story, so we named ours Amigo, too, and we
think she is justas smart as theirs, only in a different way. I want
to tell you some of her smart tricks. If we throw a stone or a
ball in the air, she will i'-r 1- _her than our heads and catch it in
her mouth. And last '. i... ... eve she brought me at my feet what
I 1. ..-i. a stone, but when 1 picked it up I found it was a
los i zse of Indian pottery. Where she : i ;I an not
imagine, but I am sure she wanted to make me a I i.. .. pres-
ent, and I think more of that little vase than of any other gift. Papa
has had a toboggan slide built for us this winter in our grounds,
and I tell you it's a ripper." The chute is forty feet and the run-
way is about 250 feet. We each have a toboggan, and we and
some of our little friends have formed a club, and I am the presi-
dent, and we all wear badges and have fine sport riding.
I wish Mr. Palmer Cox would make some pictures of the
" Brownies tobogganing. It would be so finny to see the Dude "
riding down. Your little friend, S. RESTON S-.

WE are glad to be able to tell Reston S. that Mr. Palmer Cox once
showed The Brownies Tobogganing," in ST. NICiOLAS for Janu-
ary, 1886.

SALT LAKE CITY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen a letter from Salt Lake
City in your Letter-box," and I think I will write to you and tell you
what happened one time when we were in Big Cottonwood canyon. I
went into the tunnel of an old mine with my sister and my two big
brothers. The tunnel had been abandoned for along time. Therewas
a shaft in it about ten feet deep, and we had to crawl along next to
the wallto get past the shaft. The tunnel was very dark, and when
we got in about two hundred feet we heard a growl and a whine, and,
turning around and going in the direction of the noise, we saw a
black object coming towards us. We had no other weapon than an
old mining pick, which my big brother held, waiting for the beast to
come on. Just as it reached the shaft, close to where we stood, my
brother raised the pick he had in his hands and was about to strike,
when the bear, as we thought it was, laughed and got up. It was
a foolish boy who had seen us go into the tunnel and thought he
would scare us, but he just escaped death himself. All this hap-
pened when I was quite a small boy. I am eleven years old now.
I like the story of Sara Cree very much.
Truly yours, GATES E. PADDOCK.

YOKOHAMA, JAPAN.
M DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I a am little girl livingin Japan, and
am thirteen years of age. Every Christmas or birthday mother
gives me two volumes of ST. NICHoLAS. I have read the story of
" Little Lord Fauntleroy," and have liked it very much. The
Brownies" amuse us all, too. I have a little dog (pug) called
"Putzica," which means in the Croatian language the little girl."
I possess, too, a lot of birds-- canaries, who sing beautifirlly. It
is not cold enough here in Japan to have a large skating-pond,
but there is a rice-field where people throw water, and it freezes up.
It is exceedingly small. I tried to skate te ol..- I C 1. first
time and fell down about twenty times, but, hl i .1 i. I .. hurt
myself. There were a lot of Japanese children around the place,
and whenever anybody fell down they began to laugh and cheer you,
and made a dreadful noise.
I remain your loving reader, MARY -.

WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little boy seven years old. I have
written a good many letters to my friends, but I never wrote to you
before. But I like you so well that I think you must be one of my
friends. Any way, I am one of yoiar.s, so I think I will write to
you. I like your Letter-box" very much, and I like "The
Brownies," too, and "Jack-in-the-pulpit," because he tells us so
much of Natural History, of which I am very fond. Indeed, I like
i .._ between your covers. I have a pet cat named Mufti.
i-i : affectionate, and shows his love by bumping me with his
head. Your little reader, GEORGE Ai. R--.


NAVY YARD, PORTSMOUTH, N. H.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I live here in the Navy Yard. and every
morning I go over to Portsmouth to school in a tug called Emer-







THE LETTER-BOX.


aid." There are many naval ships here at the yard. Among them
are two famous ships, the frigate "Constitution" and the Kear-
sarge." The last named was famous in the last war on account of
the fight with the Alabama." The Constitution is the famous
" Old Ironsides of the war of 1I81. I do not know much about
these wars, as I am only ten years old. There are several children
in the yard, and we have very nice times together. I like the ST.
NICHOLAS very much, and can hardly wait for it to come each
month. I read all the letters in the Letter-box and wonder if 1
shall see mine there. I must not make this letter too long, so will
say, good-bye ST. NICHOLAS.
Your constant reader, EDITH M. B- .


LEWISTOWN, PA.
A motherless little girl of six years, able to write only in the form
of printed letters, wants her grandmamma to write you something for
ST. NICHOLAS. Little Zella is quiet so long as there is any ST.
NICHOLAs to read, and that is about the only still time we have, as
her feet, tongue, and fingers, when not thus absorbed, are next to
motion perpetual. As you have not much about Indians she asks
me to say that, from our back windows, she can see the blue Juniata
where the "bright Alfarata" was wont, in the long ago, to paddle her
own canoe. Now it is the white Juniata, held in its bed with a crys-
tal covering of ice two feet thick and covered with snow. And a few
steps from the front door will take her to the bank of a beautiful creek
retaining its Indian name, Kish-a-co-quillas.
She has an aunt who is musical instructor in an Indian girls' school
in Philadelphia, where she visited for several days early last spring,
and became acquainted with the hundred or more pupils, among
them being the Lizzie Spider, who has become known as the model
for one of the principal figures in the group of a statue representing
America, lately introduced into Fairmount Park. Your young readers
would be greatly interested in a doll made by her and sent to little Zella
after her return home. It is dressed as the Indian mothers'do their
children in their far-away homes, with leggins, moccasins, blanket,
and beads, the latter wherever they could be put on neatly and taste-
fully. The hair, in braids, is from her own ample supply, black as
a raven, straight and coarse, and the name given the doll was
"O-yah-tah-washta," and that is what Zella calls it. ZELLA.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for pleasant let-
ters received from them: Ethel M. Tunnison, Willie Giffin, Harold


Kidner, James C. Mendel, Hubert C., J. C., "Garth," Bertha E.
Williams, Carter A. Hudson, Jennie Tracy, Cora and Clara Kep-
linger, Flaxie F., Oliver R. Wade, Ray O., Nina V. Cooper, Susie
Ward, Sidney W. Smith, Therese Erhard, Mary W. Ward, Carrie
H., Faith E. Babcock, Mamie Walt, Elsie Cocker, LeRoy B., W.
and L., E. S., Bessie P. S., Ethel E. B., Louisa Ermburg, Alex. S.
E., "Daisy and Buttercup," S. M. S., Edward S. Hine, Elsie S.,
Ethel Pine, Ruth Merriam, Agnes E. R., Daisy S., Louise M., Sue
H. D., Albert, Ollie N., Fannie and Edith Tolman, Leadean Roy-
den, Roy I. Bratton, Theodora A., Charley Alexander, Lena Edge,
Julia, Sallie and Margaret C., Hiram C. Jenks, Kate and Minna,
Marie and Nellie B., Hannah R. Sprague, Yula Campbell, Ida Ellis,
Jennie S. Smith, Florence Thayer, Rebecca F. D., Alice Chubback,
Charles W. Gamwell, Miriam H., Hortie O'Meara, Bertha D., J.
W. Haines, Henry D. C., Willie Curtiss, Alice S. Conly, Lilly
Minneoka, Roxalene O. Howell, Tom P. Baldwin, Helen D. Bax-
ter, Don Goodrich, Edith Bishop, Louise B., Robert R., Elsie M.
G., ClaraWhitmore B., Jessie and Eleanor, Ethel P., Maude L. H.,
Fannie Munkle, Roberta S. Caldwell, Amelia H. and Evalina Ham-
ilton, Margaret G. King, Hatty K., Harry Kirtland, Helen Bugg,
Lettice W., Effie J. C. Holland, V. B. and D. C., F. B. Miner, Lucie
O. Smith, Pansy, Bertha B., Lillie Towner, Reba, Dorothea L.
Somers, A. C. L., Sue, Marion C., Helen A. B., Lola and Allie,
M. E. Mercer and 0. L. Darling, Grace and Dillie, Mamie Hicks,
Mabel L. Bishop, Olivia Bloomfield, Lotta B. Conklin, Harry Hay-
den, Gracie Hoag, Olive Shaw Steuart, Annie L. D., Fannie E. L.,
Edith G. Temple, Mary S., Alice Hubbard, Pastora E. Griffin, E.
Lewis Higbee, M. A. E., Henrietta and Juliet, Florence L., L. A.
Prioleau, Annie B., Elsie M. Routh, H. H. H., Lottie H. C., Belle
Mumford, John Stewart, Claude and Harvey Morley, Eddie A.,
Annie C., George F. Gormly, Katharine and Isabel, Dell B., Annie
E. Hamilton, Margery Sheppard, Beulah W., Mabel G. M., Violet
Pitman, Bessie Smith, A. H., Fawn Evans, Maud M., Franklin
Carter, Jr., Joseph E. Merriam, Mary E. Foster, J. C., Arthur H.
C., Cornelia H., F. S. W., Nellie T. W., George W. Leavitt, Edith
S. Barnard, Alice, H. H. R., Ethel Moran, Ruth G. and Agnes A.,
May and Blossom, Sadie Myers.


THE CAT SAYS: "THINK OF THAT SELFISH MOUSE EATING AWAY, AND ME STARVING OUT HERE."
















THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.
EASY HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Consent. Cross-words: i. dis- BEHEADINGS. Lafayette. i. L-arch. 2. A-loft. 3. F-lung.
Cern. 2. prOud. 3. oNe~.4. S. 5. nEw. 6. caNon. 7. con- 4. A-bout. 5. Y-ours. 6. E-rase. 7. T-aunt. 8. T-ease.
Tent.- CHARADE. Fare-well. 9. E-vent.
COMBINATION STAR. From i to 2, boaster; I to 3, blesses; 2 to DOUBLE ZIGZAG. From i to o1, April fools; from xi to 20,
3, reasons; 4 to 5, states; 4 to 6, satiate; 5 to 6, systole. En- Wordsworth. Cross-words: i. Allowing. 2. Spurious. 3. Barriers.
closed Diamond: i. T. 2. Mad. 3. Tares. 4. Den. 5S 4. Resisted. 5. Mildness. 6. Afterwit. 7. Orthodox. 8. Mono-
NUMERICAL ENIGMA: gram. 9. Militate. o1. Forsooth.
The pilot of our literary whale. QUINCUNX. I. Across: i. Spar. 2. Hop. 3. Fare. 4. Eft.
A tomtit twittering on an eagle's back. 5. Fete. II. Across: i. Tray. 2. Wax. 3. Fine. 4. Ink. 5. Ares.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Raphael; finals, Raphael. Cross- AN ANAGRAMMATICAL PUZZLE. Resuscitation.
words: I. RumoR. 2. AromA. 3. PolyP. 4. HarsH. 5. CHANGES. I. Saline, aliens. 2. Rugose, grouse. 3. Thread.
AortA. 6. ElitE. 7. LeveL. dearth. 4. Cutlets, scuttle. 5. Piston, points. 6. Damson, nomads,
DIAMONDS. I. I. P. 2. Cat. 3. Cital. 4. Patriot. 5. monads.
Taint. 6. Lot. 7. T. II. I. S. 2. Lid. 3. Limes. 4. Simi- Pi. First the blue and then the shower;
lar. 5. Delay. 6. Say. 7. R. Bursting bud, and smiling flower;
DROPPED SYLLABLES. I. Em-broid-ery. 2. Low-er-ing. 3. Brooks set free with tinkling ring;
De-sert-er. 4. A-sy-lum. 5. En-coun-ter. Birds too full of song to sing;
ANAGRAMS. I. Pictures. 2. Illustration. 3. Altogether. 4. Crisp old leaves astir with pride,
Slaughter. 5. Aspirants. 6. Repentance. 7. Hostages. 8. Per- Where the timid violets hide,-
sistent. All things ready with a will,-
TRIANGLE. From i to 7, earning; I to 13, estates; i, E; 2, 8, April 's coming up the hill!
as; 3 to 9, rat; 4 to lo, Nora; 5 to xx, idiot; 6 to 12, needle; 7 to WORD-SQUARE. I. Grants. 2. Repeat. 3. Aporia. 4. Neroli.
13, guitars. 5. Tailor. 6. Stairs.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the x5th of each month, and
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 FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February i5th, from Maud E. Palmer- Louise
McClellan-Grace Kupfer-Harry H. Meeder-" Miss Flint"-M. Josephine Sherwood M. R. S.-Edith and Mabel- Mamma
and Jamie-" Meawls "-Ruth C. Schropp -" Marquise "-K. G. S.-J. R. Davis- Sydney -" Missie, Neddie, and Jamie "-No name,
New York City-" Infantry "-Nellie and Reggie -Belle Murdock--Gus and Tow--S. and J. Edsall-"The Three Graces"-Ella
and Co.-Henry H. Esselstyn--" Sally Lunn "-Bertha H.-Paul Reese-" Orange and Black"-A. H. R. and M. G. R.--Kenneth
G. Warner-Harry and Bert-D. L. 0. and S. B. O.- Kafran Emhrawit-Nan and Bob Kitchel-" Shumway Hen and Chickens "-
F. W. Islip Twice 15 "- Louise Ingham Adams -" Willoughby "-" Jo and I "- Albert S. Gould Annie Floyd Charles C. Norris
-" Tillie Boy "- Elsie Davenport.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February a5th, from M. Hamersly, --Nyleptha and
Sorais, i- Noel and Lois di Cesnola, 3- Alex. C. Johnston, I -" Nick or Methusaleh,"4 L. J. Rose, 5- G. J. N., i P. J. Clephane,
I -" Punch and Judy," 2-L. M. Gillingham, i M. L. Radcliffe, P. F. Stevens, iI -"Mistletoe," 5 Frank and May, 2-H.
O'Meara, i- K. L. and J. S. Anderson, i-" Ruby Preston Who," 4 Twinkle Craig, to-R. A. Proran, i -L. Hickman, i- E. A.
Armer, S. Park, Jr., C. Thomas, -" Tchoupitowlas," Effie K. Talboys, 8 A. M. Renter, I- B. Coleman, I E. H.
Rossiter, 3-B. Bolles, i-K. Peet, x-CelesteWillis and Mary Small, --E. T. Lewis, C. L. S., 2-R. C......... --E.
R. K., i-F. and H. Hooper, 6-G. Olcott, 8-"O. Leo 'I.. .....," 2-"Idyle," 9-J. Z. and J. C. Smith, 2- i Fullam,
- W. R. Moore, -i-" Lady of the Lake," 3-" Three (-... -S. Penman, I -A. S. Baumann, 3 E. W. S. and J. bMcL. S.,
2--J. H. Sayres, 2-L. F. Armington, 5-B. S. Merriman, 2 -"The Two B.'s," 3-W. E. Smith, 2- H. K. Hill, o--Skipper,
6 "Alpha, Alpha, B. C." 6 E. S. Hine, 3 M. P. Barker, i -" Budget," i -" The Three C.'s," 8 S. L. B., S. and B. Rhodes,
iz G. Elcox, 3 -" Merry Three," 7- J. S. Liebman, 5- S. Ward, i F. Runyon, Ii --I. O. A. I., 7- I. R. and L. Rettop, 8--Obie,
2 Nella, 3-" Chingachgook and Uncas," 4-" Leo," i G. and N. Wentworth, i -All, Ella, and Gerty, TO -Mamie E. H., 6-
No Name, Hooper St., I A. Mintel, i -"Red, White, and Blue," 2 -" Right-hand neighbors," 7 -A. M. and S. R. Bingham, 7 -
"May and 79," o-- W. B. and G. D. Sleigh, 7 -" Twin Elephants," 6- J. C. and J. G. Smith, i -" Kettle-drum and Patty-pan,"
3- G. Hodson, C. C., 2 -" Lehte," r Maud S. and Em C., 5- E. A. Bessey, John and Bessie, 3 Two Claras, 4- F. C.
H., 7 Tyb Tee and Matti B., 7 L. I. and J. Moses, 2-" Rag T. 6 -N. L. Howes, H. W. Pence, 2 -Jay Laret, Jr.,
1o -"Lake View," to-"M. A. Bel," 8 1.I.. Day, 2-H. A. H., iz-E. M. S., 5.

WORD SQUARE. fleet in the naval victory at Actium ; from I to 5, the Scythians
who conquered Pannonia, and gave it its present name; from 2 to 6,
I. A COVERING for the lower part of the face and the shoulders. 2. cleanly; from 4 to 8, the genus of animals to which the frogbelongs;
A genus of succulent plants, found in warm countries. from 3 to 7, a garment worn by the ancient Romans. M. v. w.
name. 4. A well-known leguminous plant. "BELLA i .
DOUBLE CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
CUBE.
ALL of the words described contain the same number of letters;
i when these words are rightly guessed, and placed one below another
in the order here given, one row, reading downward, will spell typog-
raphy and another row will spell devised.
CROSS-WORDS: i. To murmur. 2. A 1 .- i" I 3. To
5 . 6 quake. 4. Dogmas. 5. A common :.i .. -... .r I.I. mint.
6. The shop of a smith. 7. Upright. 8. A city, famous in ancient
times, founded by Almanzor. KATASIAW."


3 .. 4 RHO-MBOID.

ACROSS: I. A girl's name. 2 i -.1.... r node. 3. Worthi-
ness. 4. What Coleridge, in I lMariner," says is
7 . 8 "beloved front pole to pole." 5. The mollusk to whose pace Shak-
spere compares the school-boy's.
FROM x to 2, the apparent junction of the earth and sky; from 2 DOWNWARD: I. In kettle. 2. An article. 3 A boy's nick-
to 4, pertaining to nebula; from i to 3, a large sea-fish; from 3 to 4, name. 4. The fifteenth day of certain months. 5. Noblemen of Eng-
an instructor; from 5 to 6, sage; from 6 to 8, the windpipe; from land ranking above viscounts. 6. A legal claim. 7. Always on the
5 to 7, a place of exile; from 7 to 8, the admiral of the successful supper-table. 8. A mixed mass. 9. In kettle. N. O. AND M. M.
559








560 THE RID

A DIAMOND.
I. IN rococo. 2. Fortune. 3. A boys's name, common in France.
4. Principal 5. A manager. 6. Adorned fantastically. 7. To
inhume. 8. A deity. 9. In rococo. SIDNEY J.
PI.
KARM hwo ew teme tehe
Ta dwan fo wyde yda !
Il. .1. ew trege heet
i' -. .., dorylunea !
Hilew lal eth dogloy stingh hatt eb,
Ni thare, dan ria, dan maple ase,
Rea wingak pu ot molewec tehe,
Touh rryme thomn fo yam !

ACROSTIC.

ALL of the words described contain the same number of letters.
When these have been rightly guessed and placed one below the.
other, in the order here given, the first row of letters will spell the
title of a book, and the third row will spell the name of the writer of
it, who was bor n n : :-.. .. english woman.
CROss-woRDS: I. -.. I :. ;* kept for hire. 2. Ahedge-
hog. 3. Pertaining to a mountain-city in Cyprus. 4. An altar-
piece. 5. Slanting. 6. A confederate. 7. Capable of being rated.
8. Insnares. 9. Makes more intense. io. An observation. I. Fal-
low ground. 12. Belonging to a yeoman. 13. A phantom. 14. Doing
menialservicesforanother,-especiallyatan English school. i5. The
close of the day. LOUISE MCCLELLAN.

BEHEADINGS.
I. BEHEAD the month which takes its name from i- .!1 ." war,
and leave roguish; curtail this and leave a segment i 2.
Behead to expiate and leave a sound; curtail this and leave a meas-
ure. 3. Behead an old word meaning "given," and leave level;
curtail this and leave the beginning of the night. 4. Behead a place
where milk is kept, and leave unsubstantial; curtail this and leave


DLE-BOX.

atmosphere. 5. Behead to reform, and leave to improve; curtail
this and leave children of a larger growth." 6. Behead to long
for, and leave to merit by labor; curtail this and leave part of a
skillet.
The beheaded letters will spell a day which young people fre-
quently devote to outdoor festivities. L. H. L. AND D. M.

ZIGZAG.

EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters.
When these have been rightly guessed and placed one below another,
in the order here given, the zigzags (beginning at the upper left-
hand corner) will spell the name of a famous battle fought in the
month of May.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A very small apartment. 2. Imposture. 3. A
clique. 4. Thecoat of the seed ofwheat. 5. Niceperception. 6. A
small water-fowl. 7. A swimming and diving bird. 8. Pertaining
to wings. 9. A liquid globule. 1o. Horse trappings, it. Mighty.
I2. To avouch. I3. The steinbok. 14. Charity. 15. A nimbus.
16. A river of Germany. "AUGUSTUS G. HOPKINS."

MALTESE CROSS.

I 2 3
r1 4 5 i8
14 x6 .
12 19
05 7
13 6 7 20
8 9 to

FROtM to 3, a Turkish governor; from 4 to 5, a unit; from 6 to 7,
performance; from 8 to 1o, to burst asunder; from ri to 13, a well-
known drug; from 14 to 15, an animal; from 16 to 17, a river of
Scotland; from 18 to 20, a famous king of Corinth; from 2 to 9,
knowledge duly arranged; from 12 to i9, to enrage. ARTHUR C.


TD Y N K TER I N

T D I C IT V R A 11C

EP LLO RILB B


S t 4r -A



THE above one hundred squares contain the names of a number of novelists, which may be spelled out by what is known in chess as
the "king's move." This, as all chess-players know, is one square at a time in any direction. The same square is not to be used twice in
any one name. In sending answers, indicate the squares by their numbers, thus: Burney, 37, 36, 47, 56, 65, 66.
A separate list of solvers of this puzzle will be printed. If, however, so many solutions are received as to make the list of inconvenient
length for printing in the magazine, only the names of those sending especially good lists will be printed. Answers will be received only
until May 2o, excepting those sent from abroad.

THE DE VINNE PRESS, PRINTERS, NEW YORK.






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