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"RINGING IN THE FOURTH."
(See story "Ringing in the Fourth," page 666.)
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
By THOMAS NELSON PAGE.
THE boys were not sure that they had even
fallen asleep when they heard Lucy Ann call, out-
side. They turned over to take another nap.
She was coming up to the door. No, for it was
a man's step, it must be Uncle Balla's; they
heard horses trampling and people talking. In a
second the door was flung open, and a man strode
into the room followed by one, two, a half-dozen
others, all white and all in uniform. They were
Yankees. The boys were too frightened to speak.
They thought they were arrested for hiding the
Get up, you lazy little rebels," cried one of the
intruders, not unpleasantly. As the boys were
not very quick in obeying, being really too fright-
ened to do more than sit up in bed, the man
caught the mattress by the end, and lifting it with
a jerk emptied them and all the bedclothes out
into the middle of the floor in a heap. At this
all the other men laughed. A minute more and
he had drawn his sword. The boys expected no
less than to be immediately killed. They were
almost paralyzed. But instead of plunging his
sword into them, the man began to stick it into
the mattresses and to rip them up; while others
pulled open the drawers of the bureau and pitched
'the things on the floor.
The boys felt themselves to be in a very ex-
posed and defenseless condition; and Willy, who
had become tangled in the bedclothes, and had
been a little hurt in falling, now that the strain was
somewhat over, began to cry.
In a minute a shadow darkened the doorway
and their mother stood in the room.
"Leave the room instantly!" she cried.
" Are n't you ashamed to frighten children "
We have n't hurt the brats," said the man with
the sword, good-naturedly.
"Well, you terrify them to death. It's just as
bad. Give me those clothes! and she sprang
forward and snatched the boys' clothes from the
hands of a man who had taken them up. She
flung the suits to the boys, who lost no time in
slipping into them.
They had at once recovered their courage in the
presence of their mother. She seemed to them,
as she braved the intruders, the grandest person
they had ever seen. Her face was white, but her
eyes were like coals of fire. They were very glad
she had never looked or talked so to them.
When they got outdoors the yard was full of
soldiers. They were upon the porches, in the en-
try, and in the house. The smoke-house was open
and so were the doors of all the other outhouses,
and now and then a man passed, carrying some
article which the boys recognized.
In a little while the soldiers had taken every-
thing they could carry conveniently, and even
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
things which must have caused them some incon-
venience. They had secured all the bacon that
had been left in the smoke-house, as well as all other
eatables they could find. It was a queer sight, to
see the fellows sitting on their horses with a ham
or a pair of fowls tied to one side of the saddle and
an engraving, or a package of books, or some or-
nament, to the other.
A new party of men had by this time come up
from the direction of the stables.
Old man, come here! called some of them
to Balla, who was standing near expostulating
with the men who were about the fire.
"Who ? me ?" asked Balla.
B' ain't you the carriage driver? '
Ain't I the keridge driver? "
Yes, you; we know you are, so you need not
be lying about it."
"Hi! yes; I the keridge driver. Who say I
Well, where have you hid those horses ? Come,
we want to know, quick," said the fellow roughly,
taking out his pistol in a threatening way.
The old man's eyes grew wide. "Hi! befo' de
Lord! Marster, how I know anything of the horses
ef they ain't in the stable,-there's where we
keeps horses "
"Here, you come with us. We won't have no-
foolin' 'bout this," said his questioner, seizing him
by the shoulder and jerking him angrily around.
If you don't show.us pretty quick where those
horses are, we '11 put a bullet or two into you.
March off there "
He was backed up by half-a-dozen more, but the
pistol,- which was at old Balla's head, was his most
"Hi Marster, don't pint dat thing at me dat
way. I ain' ready to die yit--an' I ain' like dem
things, noways," protested Balla.
There is no telling how much farther his courage
could have withstood their threats, for the boys'
mother made her appearance. She was about to
bid Balla show where the horses were, when a
party rode into the yard leading them.
Hi! there are Bill and John, now," exclaimed
the boys, recognizing the black carriage-horses
which were being led along.
Well, ef dee ain't got 'em, sho' enoughh '! ex-
claimed the old driver, forgetting his fear of the
Gentlemen, masters, don't teck my horses,
ef you please," he pleaded, pushing through the
group that surrounded him, and approaching the
man who led the horses.
They only laughed at him.
Both the boys ran to their mother, and, flinging
their arms about her, burst out crying.
In a few minutes the men started off, riding
across the fields; and in a little while not a soldier
was in sight.
I wish Marse William could see you ridin'
'cross them fields," said Balla, looking after the
retiring troop in futile indignation.
Investigation revealed the fact that every horse
and mule on the plantation had been carried off,
except only two or three old mules, which were
evidently considered not worth taking.
AFTER this, times were very hard on the planta-
tion. But the boys' mother struggled to provide
as best she could for the family and hands. She
used to ride all over the county to secure the sup-
plies which were necessary for their support; one
of the boys usually being her escort and riding
behind her on one of the old mules that the raiders
had left. In this way the boys became acquainted
with the roads of the county and even with all the
bridle-paths in the neighborhood of their home.
Many of these were dim enough, too, running
through stretches of pine forest, across old fields
which were little better than jungle, along gullies,
up ditches, and through woods for mile after mile.
They were generally useful only to a race, such as
the negroes, which had an instinct for direction like
that shown by some animals; but the boys learned
to follow them unerringly, and soon became as
skillful in keeping de parf" as any night-walker
on the plantation.
As the year passed, the times grew harder and
harder, and the expeditions made by the boys'
mother became longer and longer, and more and
The meat gave out, and, worst of all, they had
no hogs left for the next year. The plantation
usually subsisted on bacon; but now there was not
a pig left on the place unless the old wild sow in
the big woods (who had refused to be "driven up"
the fall before) still survived, which was doubtful;
for the most diligent search was made for her
without success, and it was conceded that even she
had fallen a prey to the deserters. Nothing was
heard of her for months.
One day, in the autumn, the boys were out hunt-
ing in the big woods, in the most distant and
wildest part, where they sloped down toward a
little marshy branch that ran into the river a mile
or two away.
It was a very dry spell and squirrels were hard
to find, owing, the boys agreed, to the noise made
in trampling through the dry leaves. Finally, they
decided to station themselves each at the foot of a'
hickory and wait for the squirrels. They found .
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
two large hickory trees not too far apart, and took
their positions each on the ground, with his back to
It was very dull, waiting, and a half-whispered
colloquy was passing between them as to the
advisability of giving it up, when a faint cranchh,
cranch, cranch," sounded in the dry leaves. At
first the boys thought it was a squirrel, and both
of them grasped their guns. Then the sound
was a sudden "oof, oof," and Frank heard them
rushing back down through the woods toward the
Somebody's hogs," he muttered in disgust.
"Frank, Frank!" called Willy, in a most
It's the old spotted sow, and she's got a lot of
pigs with her-- great big shoats nearly grown !"
. !I ..' ; I' '" ', ', r1 'i "' ll" 1"i 1. .. 'i i .
"'GENTLEMEN, MARSTERS, DON'T TIECK MY HORSES, EP YOU PLEASE,' SAID UNCLE BALLA."4
came again,.but this time there appeared to be,
not one, but a number of animals, rustling slowly
What is it ? asked Frank, of Willy, whose tree
was a little nearer the direction from which the
"'T ain't anything but some cows or sheep, I
believe," said Willy, in a disappointed tone. The
look of interest died out of Frank's face, but he
still kept his eyes in the direction of the sound,
which was now very distinct. The underbrush,
however, was too thick for them to see anything.
At length Willy rose and pushed his way rapidly
through the bushes toward the animals. There
Frank sprang up and ran through the bushes.
At least six of 'em! "
Let 's follow 'em "
The boys, stooping their heads, struck out
through the bushes in the direction from which the
yet retreating animals could still be heard.
"Let's shoot 'em."
On they kept as hard as they could. What
great news it was! What royal game!
It's like hunting wild boars, is n't it ? shouted
They followed the track left by the animals in
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
the leaves kicked up in their mad flight. It led
down over the hill, through the thicket, and came
to an end at the marsh which marked the begin-
ning of the swamp. Beyond that it could not be
traced; but it was evident that.the wild hogs had
taken refuge in the impenetrable recesses of the
marsh which was their home.
i ,.FTER cir-
w boys, as
iit was now
were full of
-. .discovery, and
laid all sorts
of plans for
of the hogs.
They would not
tell even their
mother, as they
wished to surprise her.
They were, of course,
familiar with all the
modes of trapping game,
as described in the story-
books, and they discussed
them all. The easiest way
to get the hogs was to shoot
them, and this would be the
most fun "; but it would never
do, for the meat would spoil. When
they reached home they hunted up
Uncle Balla and told him about their
discovery. He was very much inclined to
laugh at them. The hogs they had seen
were nothing, he told them, but some
of the neighbors' hogs which had wan-
dered into the woods.
When the boys went to bed they talked
it over once more and determined that next
day they would thoroughly explore the woods
and the swamp also, as far as they could.
The following afternoon, therefore, they set out,
and made immediately for that part of the woods
where they had seen and heard the hogs the day
before. One of them carried a gun and the other
a long jumping-pole. After finding the trail they
followed it straight down to the swamp.
Rolling their trousers up above their knees, they
waded boldly in, selecting an opening between the
bushes which looked like a hog-path. They pro-
ceeded slowly, for the briers were so thick in many
places that they could hardly make any progress
at all when they neared the branch. So they
turned and worked their way painfully down the
stream. At last, however, they reached a place
where the brambles and bushes seemed to form a
perfect wall before them. It was impossible to
"Let's go home," said Willy. "'T ain't any
use to try to get through there. My legs are
scratched all to pieces now."
"Let's try and get out here," said Frank, and
he turned from the wall of brambles. They crept
along, springing from hummock to hummock.
Presently they came to a spot where the oozy mud
extended at least eight or ten feet before the next
tuft of grass.
"How am I to get the gun across?" asked
That 's a fact! It's too far to throw it, even
with the caps off."
At length they concluded to go back for a piece
of log they had seen, and to throw this down so as
to lessen the distance.
They pulled the log out of the sand, carried it
to the muddy spot, and threw it into the mud where
they wanted it.
Frank stuck his pole down and felt until he had
what he thought a secure hold on it, fixed his eye
on the tuft of grass beyond, and sprang into air.
As he jumped, the pole slipped from its insecure
support into the miry mud, and Frank, instead of
landing on the hummock for which he had aimed,
lost his direction, and soused flat on his side with a
loud "spa-lash," in the water and mud three feet
to the left.
He was a queer object as he staggered to his
feet in the quagmire; but at the instant.a loud
oof, oof," came from the thicket, not a dozen
yards away, and the whole herd of hogs, roused, by
his fall, from slumber in their muddy lair, dashed
away through the swamp with oofs of fear.
There they go, there they go shouted both
boys eagerly,- Willy, in his excitement, splashing
across the perilous-looking quagmire, and finding
it not so deep as it had looked.
There's where they go in and out," exclaimed
Frank, pointing to a low round opening, not more
than eighteen inches high, a little farther beyond
them, which formed an arch in the almost solid
wall of brambles surrounding the place.
As it was now late they returned home, resolving
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
to wait until the next afternoon before taking any
further steps. There was not a pound of bacon
to be obtained anywhere in the county for love or
money, and the flock of sheep was almost gone.
Their mother's anxiety as to means for keeping
her dependents from starving
was so great that the boys
were on the point of telling
her what they knew; and when -
they heard her wishing she ,
had a few hogs to fatten, they
could scarcely keep from let-
ting her know their plans.
At last they had to jump up,
and run out of the room!
Next day the boys each
hunted up a pair of old boots
which they had used the win-
ter before. The leather was
so dry and worn that the boots ..
hurt their growing feet cruelly, .
but they brought the boots '
along to put on when they
reached the swamp. This
time, each, took a gun, and "
they also carried an ax, for _, .
now they had determined on -."
a plan for capturing the hogs. -
"I wish we had let Peter
and Cole come," said Willy,
dolefully, sitting on the butt
end of a log they had cut, and '
wiping his face on his sleeve. -.
Or had asked Uncle Balla
to help us," added Frank,
They 'd be certain to tell -
all about it."
"Yes; so they would."
They settled down in silence,
I tell you what we ought
to do Bait the hog-path, as you would for fish."
This was the suggestion of the angler, Frank.
With what? "
The acorns were tolerably plentiful around the
roots of the big oaks, so the boys set to work to
pick them up. It was an easier job than cutting
the log, and it was not long before each had his
As they started down to the swamp, Frank ex-
claimed, suddenly, Look there, Willy! "
Willy looked, and not fifty yards away, with
their ends resting on old stumps, were three or
four "hacks," or piles of rails, which had been
mauled the season before and left there, probably
having been forgotten or overlooked.
Willy gave a hurrah, while bending under the
weight of a large rail.
At the spot where the hog-path came out of the
thicket they commenced to build their trap.
First they laid a floor of rails ; then they built a
"WE 'VE GOT 'EM! WE VE GOT 'EM! "
pen, five or six rails high, which they strength-
ened with outriders." When the pen was
finished, they pried up the side nearest the thicket,
from the bottom rail, about a foot; that is, high
enough for the animals to enter. This they did
by means of two rails, using one as a fulcrum and
one as a lever, having shortened them enough to
enable the work to be done from inside the pen.
The lever they pulled down at the farther end
until it touched the bottom of the trap, and fast-
ened it by another rail, a thin one, run at right
angles to the lever, and across the pen. This
would slip easily when pushed away from the gap,
and needed to be moved only about an inch to
slip from the end of the lever and release it; the
weight of the pen would then close the gap. Behind
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES.
this rail the acorns were to be thrown; and the
hogs, in trying to get the bait, would push the
rail, free the lever or trigger, and the gap would
be closed by the fall of the pen when the lever was
It was nearly night when the boys finished.
They scattered -a portion of the acorns for bait
along the path and up into the pen, to toll the hogs
in. The rest they strewed inside the pen, beyond
their sliding rail.
They could scarcely tear themselves away from
the pen ; but it was so late they had to hurry home.
Next day was Sunday. But Monday morning,
by daylight, they were up and went out with
their guns, apparently to hunt squirrels. They
went, however, straight to their trap. As they
approached they thought they heard the hogs
grunting in the pen. Willy was sure of it; and
they ran as hard as they could. But there were
no hogs there. After going every morning and
evening for two weeks, there never had been even
an acorn missed, so they stopped their visits.
Peter and Cole found out about the pen, and
then the servants learned of it, and the boys were
joked and laughed at unmercifully.
"I believe them boys is distracted," said old
Balla, in the kitchen; setting a pen in them
woods for to ketch hogs,- with the gap open!
Think hogs goin' stay in pen with gap open ef
any wuz dyah to went in "
"Well, you come out and help us hunt for
them," said the boys to the old driver.
Go 'way, boy, I ain"got time foolin' wid you
chillern, building' pen in swamp. There ain't no
hogs in them woods, onless they got in dyah sence
"You saw 'em, did n't you, Willy ?" declared
"Yes, I did."
Go 'way. Don't you know, ef that old sow
had been in them woods the boys would have got
her'up las' fall,- an' ef they had n't, she 'd come
up long befo' this ?"
Mister Hall ketch you boys putting' his hogs
up in pen, he '11 teck you up," said Lucy Ann, in
her usual teasing way.
This was too much for the boys to stand after all
they had done. Uncle Balla must be right. They
would have to admit it. The hogs must have be-
longed to some one else. And their Mother was
in such desperate straits about meat !
Lucy Ann's last shot, about catching Mr. Hall's
hogs, took effect; and the boys agreed that they
would go out some afternoon and pull the pen down.
The next afternoon they took their guns, and
started out on a squirrel-hunt.
They did not have much luck, however.
Let's go by there, and pull the old pen down,"
said Frank, as they started homeward from the far
side of the woods.
"It's out of the way,- let the old thing rip."
We 'd better pull it down. If a hog were to
be caught there, it would 'nt do."
I wish he would but there ain't any hogs
going to get caught," growled Willy.
He might starve to death."
This suggestion persuaded Willy, who could not
bear to have anything suffer.
So they sauntered down toward the swamp.
As they approached it, a squirrel ran up a tree,
and both boys were after it in a second. They
were standing, one on each side of the tree, gazing
up, trying to get a sight of the little animal among
the gray branches, when a sound came to the ears
of both of them at the same moment.
"What's that? both asked together.
It 's hogs, grunting."
"No, they are fighting. They are in the swamp.
Let 's run," said Willy.
"No; we '11 scare them away. They may be
near the trap," was Frank's prudent suggestion.
"Let's creep up."
"I hear young pigs squealing. Do you think
they are ours ? "
The squirrel was left, flattened out and trembling
on top of a large limb, and the boys stole down the
hill toward the pen. The hogs were not in sight,
though they could be heard grunting and scuffling.
They crept closer. Willy crawled through a thick
clump of bushes, and sprang to his feet with a
shout. "We 've got 'em! -we 've got 'em he
cried, running toward the pen, followed by Frank.
Sure enough There they were, fast in the pen,
fighting and snorting to get out, and tearing
around with the bristles high on their round backs,
the old sow and seven large young hogs; while a
litter of eight little pigs, as the boys ran up,
squeezed through the rails, and, squealing, dashed
away into the grass.
The hogs were almost frantic at the sight of the
boys, and rushed madly at the sides of the pen;
but the boys had made it too strong to be broken.
After gazing at their capture awhile, and piling
a few more outriders on the corners of the pen to
make it more secure, the two trappers rushed
home. They dashed breathless and panting into
their mother's room, shouting, We 've got 'em!
- we 've got 'em! and, seizing her, began to
dance up and down with her.
In a little while the whole plantation was aware
of the capture, and old Balla was sent out with
them to look at the hogs and make sure they did not
belong to some one else,--as he insisted they did.
The boys went with him. It was quite dark when
x888.] TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. 049
he returned, but as he came in, the proof of the For some time afterward he would every now
boys' success was written on his face. He was on and then break into a chuckle of amused content
a broad grin. To his mistress's inquiry he replied, and exclaim, Them 's right smart chillern."
"Yes, 'm, they 's got 'em, sho' enough They 's And at Christmas, when the hogs were killed, this
the beatenes' boys was the opinion of the whole plantation.
(To be continued.)
OF THE NAUTILUS.
BY E. CAVAZZA.
0 Nautilus / 0 Nauntilus /
Why sail you on the main ?
" I go to bring the Fairy King,
To come to his own again.
They broke in two his royal wand,
And took his crown away,
And drove him forth from Fairyland
For a thousand years and a day."
0 NVautilus / 0 Nautilus !
Whereof is made thy sail?
" Of a roseleaf white, and a thread of light
That was spun from a moonbeam pale;
The rudder that steers my ship so fast
Was a thorn of a red, red rose;
And on spider's cordage I climb the mast
When the wind of the ocean blows."
BALLAD OF THE NAUTILUS.
O Nautilus/ 0 Nautilus /
And who are you, yourself?
" The son of a fay of the land, they say,
And of a water-elf.
Oh! the veil and the gown of mother mine
Were woven of mist so thin;
Through her wedding-ring, so small and fine,
You could not thrust a pin."
O Nautilus / 0 Nautilus /
How will you find your way ?
" I do not know; I sail to and fro
For a thousand years and a day.
But when that day is done, no doubt,
I shall find the Fairy King,
And the fairy folk will dance and shout,
And the bells of their land will ring! "
MARY E. VANDYNE.
ARE you quite sure that I can leave you safely,
"Yes, indeed, Mamma "
"You will play very quietly about the house
and grounds, and do whatever Madame tells you?"
Surely I will. And you know, Mamma, that
I shall have Aim6e to take care of me. You have
no idea how good she is; and then, you know, she is
ever and ever so much older than I am, and she
has always lived here and knows everything about
Mrs. Anderson smiled. She quite shared her
little girl's admiration for Aimee St. Germain, their
good landlady's niece, and felt that Flossie would
be safe in the care of the quiet little French maid-
en. But she felt some little uneasiness, never-
In the first place, Aimee was only twelve years
old, while Flossie was ten and had truly American
ideas of independence, gained from living in a
New England village where everybody knew
"the Squire's little girl," and where she was
quite as safe rambling about the streets or straying
by the little brook that babbled loudly in spring
and dried up to nothing during August, as she was
in the old nursery at the Hall.
But ill-health and a father's anxiety had made
Flossie and her mother exiles from their New Eng-
land home, and they were now living in a roman-
tic villa beside the blue Mediterranean, not far
from Nice, and just at the foot of a shaded hill
whose green slopes were a delicious playground
for Flossie and a very mine of strength to her
It was the morning of Corpus Christi. There
were to be many gorgeous ceremonies in the
cathedral at Nice, for this is a great festival of
the Church; and Mrs. Anderson would not have
left her daughter, but she had received word
that a friend of hers had just arrived at the Hotel
des Anglais, in that city, and was anxious to see
her. She did not wish to take Flossie with her,
for it was quite a fatiguing journey, and Mrs.
Anderson thought her little girl would be safer
at home, considering the crowd, the heat, and the
confusion. On the other hand, it was not a good
day to leave the child alone, as nearly all the
boarders were going into the city, and the villa
would be quite deserted.
Aimne will take charge of ze leetle girl sure-
ly, sure-ly," echoed Madame, who had happened to
overhear their conversation.
And so it was arranged. The carriage arrived
early for Mrs. Anderson; the rest of the boarders
left for Nice; Madame started out on her daily
shopping tour among the vegetable-farmers and
trades-people, and by noon the two little girls were
left almost in sole possession. Deaf old Jean, the
gardener, and Marianne, the cook, who spoke a
dreadful patois that Madame alone understood,
were the only others about the villa.
Where shall we go, Aimee ?" inquired Flossie,
who was the restless one of the little couple.
Into ze garden, n'est ce fas ?" answered the
little maid, whose soft brown eyes and sweet, firm
mouth already indicated the self-control of a
Flossie readily agreed, and they soon established
themselves under a beautiful big tree.
Little folk who have never had foreign playmates
or friends, or lived abroad, can not realize how
many entertaining things these two little ones had
to talk about.
Flossie had told Aimee a thousand things about
her life in New England; she had pictured the
great snow-storms, the rushing rivers, the ponds
of smooth ice that one could run about on, for
months and months, as safely as upon solid ground;
the great Thanksgiving feast, with its meeting of
uncles, aunts, and cousins; the cookies and the
gingerbread, the skating and the sleighing, all of
which were new to the little French girl.
And Aimee had much to tell Flossie. Every
nook and corner of her beloved France had some
legend connected with it, and with these Aimee
was familiar. Then she knew how to do many
things that were new to Flossie. Her little fingers
were very deft, and at the convent where she was
educated, the good sisters had taught her how to
make most wonderful embroidery. With her little
pillow on her lap, she would weave the daintiest and
costliest lace, such as Flossie had seen in the great
stores in America. The threads were so delicate,
the patterns so intricate, and the labyrinth of pins,
through which Aimee guided her regiment of bob-
bins, so bewildering, that Flossie could only sigh
with hopeless admiration, as she saw the agile
Aimne proposed to her little companion that
they should take a run about the garden.
Aimee," cried Flossie, as the two girls paused
on a knoll whence they could look a long distance
out upon the road, what is that old ruined build-
ing, 'way over there ? "
Aimee smiled. "It is the remains of a beauti-
ful villa built very long ago by a very rich gentle-
man from your country,-- no England,- I always
Do you think we might run and look at it ? "
It would be a long run. And see, Flossie, the
air is so hot and still. There are black clouds
"You don't mean rain ? "
Aimee shook her head.
No, not rain."
Well, then, let us go." Flossie held her com-
panion tightly by the hand, and was drawing her
along the path toward the old ruin.
But, if anything should happen."
What could happen ? "
I don't know, exactly," Aimee answered, in a
hesitating manner, still allowing Flossie to lead her.
Aimee was thinking of a conversation between
her aunt and a friend, which she had overheard the
evening before, but did not care to tell Flossie
about it, fearing to frighten the little one.
The girls went toward the villa, and, after quite
a long walk, they found themselves in front of the
"Oh, what a beautiful garden!"
"Yes," said Aimee, smiling.
"And see," cried Flossie, "the doors are quite
gone, and I can see inside the rooms. Oh, what
beautiful pictures those are, on the walls "
Flossie was not familiar with frescoed walls and
these paintings, even in their ruined state, seemed
very strange and very beautiful to her.
Aimde was anxiously watching the sky. There
was a peculiar stillness in the air, and, on the hori-
zon, banks of black clouds were heaped one upon
another. Suddenly she missed Flossie from her
Where are you, fetite, where are you ? she
called. Flossie did not reply. Suddenly there
was a low moaning sound, as if the wind were sigh-
ing amid the trees. But-there was no wind !
Just as Aimde noticed this, a dull rumble seemed
to come from the neighboring hills. Then there
was silence, followed by a hoarse, low growl, as if
some great monster enchained in the woods shook
the air. Instinctively Aimee clasped her hand to
her heart and again loudly called Flossie by
But still there was no answer; only the sighing
of those motionless trees, and again the hoarse,
low rumbling, followed by a tremulous motion of
the earth beneath her feet.
"It has come," screamed the girl. Oh,
the ground; they fastened them upon great rocks
and they strengthened them by broad arches so
that when the earth trembled they should be as
secure as possible. But many, very many, years
had since passed. Many towns on the shores of
the blue Mediterranean had been visited and
destroyed by earthquake shocks; yet no such
calamity had befallen the beautiful cities of south-
ern France. Of late, wiseacres had foretold that
the shocks would come soon again. But the in-
-.'Y.'. T. .'. ,
. . . . .. .
**' 'I. *
r ,^. '^' -^ --
: 1'" ':;. '*'*' .
,. "" :'. -
," -'.. . .
"FLOSSIE HELD HER COMPANION TIGHTLY BY THE HAND, AND WAS DRAWING HER ALONG THE PATH."
Flossie, Flossie, mon enfant, ma petite, oi es-tu?
oie es-tu ? "
In her excitement Aim6e spoke her native
There was no reply. She turned and looked at
the walls of the house behind her. Should she
enter? Dare she enter? Flossie had gone into
the building-and now the earthquake had come !
No place was so unsafe. The walls were old and
moldered by time, and half shaken to pieces by
Last night, and many times before, Aim6e had
heard stories of earthquakes, for the beautiful
Riviera often had been visited by these calamities.
In olden times people built their houses low upon
habitants had not been frightened by the warnings
and little or no precautions had been taken.
But where was Flossie? Some minutes had
passed since she had entered the ruin. Why had
she not heard Aimee's call? Had she been deaf
to the strange voice of the wind? Had she not
seen the darkened sky or felt the trembling of the
walls about her, of the ruined floor beneath her
With one timorous glance at the broken ceiling
above her head, the wide seams and gaps in the
tottering walls, the half-dislodged blocks of stone
all ready to fall, Aimee sprang within the arch-
way. A sweet voice, crying "Peep! attracted
her attention, and with one bound she reached the
staircase. Flying up the broken, half-ruined steps,
she caught sight of Flossie's little form in a re-
mote corner. As swiftly as possible she crossed
the apartment, and clasped the little girl in her
arms. At this moment another low rumbling
sound filled the air.
Flossie had fancied that she saw her way to a
capital game of hide-and-seek." This had made
her ignore Aimee's call, and the walls of the
chateau had prevented her from noticing the
darkened sky. Of the noise she thought little.
A very tiny clap of thunder would have sounded
Aim6e, grasping Flossie's wrist, drew her toward
the head of the staircase, crying in her ear mean-
Hurry, hurry, it is an earthquake "
Had she not spoken they might have escaped
from the building. But at this word Flossie was
startled, lost her footing and fell. The sudden
weight upon her hand loosened Aimee's grasp.
The little girl rolled sideways, and over the un-
guarded side of the staircase !
Aimee saw the fall, and as the little form disap-
peared a cry of anguish burst from her lips. But
no mortal ear heard, or could have heard it, for
with a voice of muffled thunder the solid earth
heaved and writhed beneath their feet, the walls
shook, and groaned, and fell about them, stones
were hurled here and there, and over all settled a
cloud of thick dust which it was impossible to see
through, or to breathe.
After the shock there was a strange silence,
broken only by the occasional rattle of a loose
stone, here and there, or the settling of the ruined
masses into a closer heap.
Aim6e lay upon the stone staircase, breathless
and powerless, but unhurt. For a moment she
was too frightened even to move. Then she sat
up and tried to look about her.
What made it so dark? Try as she might, she
could not see anything. She called Flossie.
No answer came, but in the course of a few
minutes Aimee fancied she could hear a low sob-
bing. She called louder and was answered by the
child's voice :
Here I am, Aim6e, here "
Sore and bruised as she was, Aimde could move
without difficulty, and creeping carefully down the
steps, made her way to Flossie's side. The child
flung both arms about her, and for a few moments
they could do nothing but sob in each other's
Are you hurt, Flossie ? "
"Oh yes, yes "
My arm. Oh it is so sore, and my head -it
hurts me so! Oh, Aimee, what has happened?
Are we killed ? What makes it so dark? "
Aimee felt the poor head very carefully and
found that it was only bruised. The arm was wet
with something she knew must be blood; but
Flossie could move it. So, fortunately, it was not
Tearing her handkerchief into strips, Aimee
bound the injured limb as well as she could and
then gathered the little one closer in her arms.
Yes, the earthquake had come. It was probably
not very severe, for if it had been, they must have
been killed. But the wall of the old chateau had
fallen and had made them prisoners in the dark-
But, if we look about, shall we not find a way
out? asked Flossie.
Aimbe's voice trembled. I am afraid not, but
we will try. First let us thank God for saving us
from a dreadful death."
"Yes, indeed, indeed we will," was Flossie's
reply. "And Aimee, we will ask Him to show us
a way out and let us go home. Oh, Mamma!
In the darkness, surrounded by the fallen debris
and nearly suffocated with the dust, the two little
girls knelt, and the prayer was said. Soon after
Flossie buried her head in Aimee's breast, and
cried bitterly for her Mamma.
And now began a long, sad vigil. Aimee re-
membered the stories she had heard of good men
and women in prison, who had suffered from priva-
tion of every kind, and some of whom had died
before they were released. Suddenly a thought
struck her. They had nothing to eat or drink !
Would they sit there, clasped in each other's arms
until they grew hungry and faint, and finally un-
conscious, and died of starvation or thirst ? Oh, the
idea was too dreadful! Her little lips trembled,
and the prayers she was trying to say became very
What were the chances of their being rescued ?
How soon would they be missed ? In the dreadful
confusion the earthquake must have caused, who
would think to look for them ? No one knew they
had come to the old chateau. It was only an old
ruin. Excursionists came sometimes, or travelers
from abroad, and now and then a peasant would
seek the shade of the ruined walls as he rested
from his labors in the neighboring fields.
And even if the people knew they were there,
how long would it take to dig away those terrible
masses of stone and cement that had filled the old
doorway? How deeply were they buried in the
old ruin? How thick was the barrier that lay
between them and the light of day, the beautiful
outside world, and home, and love?
Aim6e sat very quietly, thinking. Flossie had
sobbed herself to sleep in the darkness, and lay
dreaming of Mamma and home, with her head in
Aim6e's lap. Suddenly Aimee fancied that she
heard the sound of water. She listened intently.
Yes, surely, it was water. Then she remembered
that she had heard there was a spring near the old
chateau. Yes, but not within it. What did that
low ripple mean ?
Of course it was impossible for Aim6e to know
that what seems almost a miracle had been worked
in behalf of the little prisoners. The earthquake,
in its course, had so shaken the rocks and the
ground about the spring, that the course of its
waters was changed, and a portion of the tiny
streamlet flowing from it, now ran through a
chink in the castle wall, and was dripping from a
ledge not far from where she sat. And not only
did the stream come to her, but it told her where
it was. The quiet drip, drip, seemed to be call-
ing, "Aim6e," "Aimte "; and when, presently,
Flossie awoke and cried for water, shewas able to
help the little girl to crawl within its reach. Drop
by drop it fell into their little upturned mouths,
and the agonies of thirst were averted.
The hours passed slowly, and again Flossie fell
asleep. This time Aimbe slept, too. Of course
they both were hungry, and, as hungry people do,
they dreamed of food. All at once, Aimee awoke
with a start. She had been dreaming of her little
sewing-basket, and of the luncheons she used to
pack into it, when she started for her convent-
school. And surely she had packed a luncheon,
when she and Flossie went out in the garden that
morning That had been part of their plan-- to
have a little tea-party in the garden.
But the basket-she had brought it with her
to the chateau. But what then ? Did she have it
in her hand as she sprang into the ruin in search
of Flossie? She could not remember.- But if she
did, where would it be now? Where had she
dropped it when she seized the child, just before
that terrible crash came ?
Aim6e lay still and thought a long while, not
daring to move lest she might disturb Flossie.
Then she became so strongly impressed with the
idea that she had let the little basket drop from
her hand as she sprang up the staircase in answer
to Flossie's cry, that she ventured to put the little
girl's head from her lap to the ground. This did
not wake Flossie, and, after a few moments of anx-
ious search, Aimee felt the basket in her hand.
Yes, it was safe. She had it! -and there was
the precious luncheon There were in the basket
three small sandwiches, three boiled eggs, and one
piece of cake.
Aim6e hugged the treasure to her bosom. Yes,
they had food and drink; they need not die-yet.
But, oh, it was so little !
Aim&e took the first sandwich in her hand.
Flossie was sleeping. It was better for her to
sleep. She would eat a little, and then feed
Flossie when she woke. Aimee's teeth had nearly
closed over the bread, when her conscience smote
There is so little, so little. If I eat any there
will be less for Flossie. Oh, ought I-should I-
must I give it all to her ? "
At this thought the hungry little girl burst into
"But it is what the good saints would have
done. Flossie is so little. I can bear hunger longer
than she "
Aimee sat down upon the ruined stairs, and
thought and thought, longer than ever.
No one knows how long we may be imprisoned
here. Madame Anderson,-if the earthquake has
not destroyed her,-will soon go back to the villa,
and Tante Celeste will tell her that we are not there.
But why do I talk of the villa and Tante Celeste?
Who knows whether the dear house is still there,
or if Tante Celeste is still among the living?"
Aim&e bowed her head and the tears flowed
down her cheeks.
It was so dark that the waking child could not
tell whether it was night or day. Finally, after
many hours spent in anxious thought, she said to
I think I know now what I ought to do. We
have very, very little food. If it is divided and eaten
sparingly it might last us several days. But it
would not do for me to give it all to Flossie. She
is so little that she would not control herself, and
at the first meal she would eat it all. No; I will
divide it so as to give her two-thirds and I. will eat
one-third. Then I shall keep my strength, and we
shall live as long as possible. Oh! if they will
only think to search for us here-if they only will!
It is so hard to die-so hard! "
In a little time Flossie awoke. Then Aimbe
told her of their situation, and of the little food they
had, and how they must make it last as long as
Oh, how dreary it was! The little ones dragged
themselves about and explored every part of the
strange prison; they talked long and sadly about
home and friends, and tried in every way to make
the slow, dismal hours pass.
Aim&e's hardest task was to keep Flossie from
devouring their little store of food. She became
so very hungry, and she begged for it so piteously.
Before a day had passed Aim6e had abandoned
her plan of eating one-third as much as she al-
lowed Flossie, and contented herself with a few
I I'' Y I1
I I i"' ll
AIME WAS ANXIOUSLY WATCHING THE SKY."
crumbs from the allowance she doled out to the Flossie; Aimee had eaten nothing at all. They
little girl. Fortunately, there was plenty of water. had ceased to talk to each other. Both lay pros-
trate on the stone floor.
Four days had passed. Flossie had grown very Suddenly Flossie heard what sounded to her like
sick and wretched, but poor Aim&e's strength was strong, powerful blows falling upon the outside
quite exhausted. Their food was all gone. This wall of their prison-house.
morning there had been but a few crumbs for Aimee she cried, Aimee "
-=-r --- W1.iiLJf ,^XS---.
There was no answer. Aimee had become un-
Flossie listened again. Yes, surely some one
was coming to their rescue. Some one was digging
a way through that terrible mass of dust and stone
in order to set them free. But what was the mat-
ter with Aime ? It was in vain that Flossie called
to her, shook her, rubbed and chafed her face and
hands,-there was no sign of life anywhere in the
But still the sound of blows continued. Oh,
how eagerly Flossie listened! How her heart
throbbed as they came nearer and nearer! Soon she
felt the air around her fill with dust again, as it had
at the moment of the earthquake. Then there was
a movement among the masses of earth and stone
at her side. Soon there was a streak of daylight
making its way amid the darkness; and then--
then, in response to her own wild shriek of joy and
gladness, came a reply in the voice she knew so well:
Florence, my child, my child Are you liv-
ing? Are you hurt? "
Such happiness seemed almost too much to
bear. Mrs. Anderson fell fainting into the arms
of a peasant woman; and not until the laborers had
removed the fearful masses of stone and wreck that
held the children imprisoned, and brought them
into the light of day, did she recover. Then
Flossie's arms were about her, and mother and
child were clasped to each other's hearts.
The first care of all was to revive Aimbe. She
had been so faithful to her resolve that Flossie did
not even know that her friend had nearly starved
so that she might live.
It was hard at first to find'a physician, so busy
were they all among the sufferers by the terrible
earthquake shock. But at last one came, and by
his skill Aimbe was brought back to the world she
had so nearly left for ever. Lying in Tante Celeste's
white bed, she was soon able to take the delicate
broth they brought her, and to help Flossie tell
the dreadful story of their imprisonment.
The town of Nice had been almost destroyed
by the earthquake. Mrs. Anderson was chatting
with her friend in the dining-room of the hotel,
when the first tremblement de terre occurred. They
had rushed out, only just in time to see the great
building fall to the ground, and to witness the
destruction of a great part of the beautiful city!
Wild with anxiety, Mrs. Anderson had secured
the first carriage she could find, and had made
her way to the villa in search of Flossie. She
had found her home intact, but her child was -
It was a sad story,- that of the search made by
Mrs. Anderson and Tante Celeste, among the
injured and the killed, for their two little ones.
Only by accident was their whereabouts revealed
at last. Flossie's parasol, and the marks of tiny
feet in the road to the old chateau, showed that
the girls had wandered there during some part of
the day. Mrs. Anderson insisted that the ruins
should be searched, though she dared expect noth-
ing but to find their crushed and mangled bodies.
Their merciful deliverance from death was owing
to the strong masonry of the tower of the chateau.
Had they been in another part of the building
they must have died.
Aimbe herself would never have told of the self-
denial and anguish she had endured in her desire to
prolong Flossie's life. But the good woman who
presided over Tante Celeste's kitchen knew just
how much food had been given the little girls, and
Flossie's account of what she had eaten, together
with Aimde's emaciated looks and fainting condi-
tion, soon-revealed the secret.
She is just a little saint," cried Tante Celeste,
hugging her darling to her bosom; and Mrs.
Anderson, clasping Flossie in her arms, echoed
As for the two girls, nothing will ever disturb the
friendship and devotion resulting from that terrible
experience of darkness and privation during the
great earthquake at Nice.
A JULY DAY.
BY MARGARET DELAND.
WEST wind that ruffles the sea into laughter and sparkle and spray;
Skies blue as they can be; white clouds across the bay ;
And a thistle seed sailing over a field of blossoming clover,-
That is a July day!
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
CHILD-SKETCHES FROM GEORGE ELIOT. No. V."
BY JULIA MAGRUDER.
THE next day, when the aunts and uncles ar-
rived, Aunt Deane brought her little daughter
Lucy with her, "and Mrs. Tulliver had to look
on with a silent pang while Lucy's blonde curls
were adjusted. Maggie always looked twice as
dark as usual when she was by the side of Lucy.
She did to-day, when she and Tom came in
-from the garden with their father and their Uncle
Glegg. Maggie had thrown her bonnet off very
carelessly, and, coining in with her hair rough as
well as out of curl, rushed at once to Lucy, who
was standing by her mother's knee. Certainly
the contrast between the cousins was conspicuous,
and, to superficial eyes, was very much to the dis-
advantage of Maggie. It was like the con-
trast between a rough, dark, overgrown puppy and
a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little
rosebud mouth to be kissed: everything about
her was neat-her little round neck with the row
of coral beads; her straight little nose, not at all
snubby; her little clear eyebrows, rather darker
than her curls, to match her hazel eyes, which
looked up with shy pleasure at Maggie, taller by
the head, though scarcely a year older. Maggie
always looked at Lucy with delight. She was
fond of fancying a world where the people never
got any larger than children of their own age, and
she made the queen of it just like Lucy, with a
little crown on her head and a little scepter in her
hand-only the queen was Maggie herself, in
'Oh, Lucy,' she burst out, after kissing her,
'you '11 stay with Tom and me, won't you? Oh,
kiss her, Tom.'
"Tom, too, had come up to Lucy, but he was
not going to kiss her-no; he came up to her
with Maggie because it was easier, on the whole,
than saying 'How do you do?' to all those aunts
and uncles. .. ."
Heyday said Aunt Glegg, with loud em-
phasis. 'Do little boys and gells come into a room
without taking notice o' their uncles and aunts?
That was n't the way when Iwas a little gell.'
Go and speak to your aunts and uncles, my
dears,' said Mrs. Tulliver, looking anxious and
melancholy. She wanted to whisper to Maggie a
command to go and have her hair brushed.
"'Well, and how do you do? And I hope
you're good children, are you?' said Aunt
Glegg, in the same loud emphatic way, as she
took their hands, hurting them with her large
rings, and kissing their cheeks, much against their
desire. 'Look up, Tom, look up. Boys as go to
boarding-schools should hold their heads up.
Look at me now.' Tom declined that pleasure,
apparently, for he tried to draw his hand away.
'Put your hair behind your ears, Maggie, and
keep your frock on your shoulder.'
"Aunt Glegg always spoke to them in this loud
emphatic way, as if she considered them deaf, or
perhaps rather idiotic. .. ."
'Well, my dears,' said Aunt Pullet, in a com-
passionate voice, 'you grow wonderful fast. I
doubt they '11 outgrow their strength,' she added,
looking over their heads, with a melancholy expres-
sion, at their mother. 'I think the gell has too
much hair. I 'd have it thinned and cut shorter,
sister, if I was you: it is n't good for her health.
It's that as makes her skin so brown, I should n't
wonder. Don't you think so, sister Deane?'-
I can't say, I 'm sure, sister,' said Mrs. Deane,
shutting her lips close again, and looking at Maggie
with a critical eye.
"'No, no,' said Mr. Tulliver, 'the child's healthy
enough; there 's nothing ails her. There 's red
wheat as well as white, for that matter, and some
like the dark grain best. But it 'ud be as well
if Bessy 'ud have the child's hair cut, so as it 'ud
"A dreadful resolve was gathering in Maggie's
breast, but it was arrested by the desire to know
from her Aunt Deane whether she would leave
Lucy behind; Aunt Deane would hardly ever let
Lucy come to see them. After various reasons for
refusal, Mrs. Deane appealed to Lucy herself.
"'You would n't like to stay behind without
mother, should you, Lucy ?'
Yes, please, mother,' said Lucy, timidly,
blushing very pink all over her little neck.
"'Well done, Lucy! Let her stay, Mrs. Deane,
let her stay,' said Mr. Deane. ."
'Maggie,' said Mrs. Tulliver, beckoning Mag-
gie to her, and whispering in her ear, as soon as
this point of Lucy's staying was settled, go and
* Mill on the Floss."
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
get your hair brushed--do, for shame. I told
you not to come in without going to Martha first;
you know I did.'
Tom, come out with me,' whispered Maggie,
pulling his sleeve as she passed him; and Tom
followed willingly enough.
'Come upstairs with me, Tom,' she whispered
when they were outside the door. 'There's some-
thing I want to do before dinner.'
There 's no time to play at anything before
dinner,' said Tom. ."
"'Oh yes, there is time for this--do come,
"Tom followed Maggie upstairs into her mother's
room, and saw her go at once to a drawer, from
which she took out a large pair of scissors.
'What are they for, Maggie ?' said Tom, feel-
ing his curiosity awakened.
"Maggie answered by seizing her front locks
and cutting them straight across the middle of her
"'Oh, my buttons, Maggie, you 'll catch it!'
exclaimed Tom; 'you 'd better not cut any more
Snip went the great scissors again while Tom
was speaking; and he could n't help feeling it was
rather good fun: Maggie would look so queer.
Here, Tom, cut it behind for me,' said Mag-
gie, excited by her own daring, and anxious to
finish the deed.
"' You '11 catch it, you know,' said Tom, nod-
ding his head in an admonitory manner, and hesi-
tating a little as he took the scissors.
"'Never mind--make haste!' said Maggie,
giving a little stamp with her foot. Her cheeks
were quite flushed.
The black locks were so thick- nothing could
be more tempting to a lad who had already tasted
the forbidden pleasure of cutting the pony's mane.
.One delicious, grinding snip, and then another
and another, and the hinder locks fell heavily on
the floor, and Maggie stood cropped in a jagged,
uneven manner, but with a sense of clearness and
freedom, as if she had emerged from a wood into
the open plain.
"'Oh, Maggie,' said Tom, jumping round her,
and slapping his knees as he laughed, 'Oh, my
buttons, what a queer thing you look Look at
yourself in the glass: you look like the idiot we
throw our nutshells to, at school.'
"Maggie felt an unexpected pang. She had
thought beforehand chiefly of her own deliver-
ance from her teasing hair and teasing remarks
about it, and something also of the triumph she
should have over her mother and her aunts by
this very decided course of action: she did n't
want her hair to look pretty--that was out of
the question she only wanted people to think her
a clever little girl, and not to find fault with her.
But now, when Tom began to laugh at her and
say she was like the idiot, the affair had quite a
new aspect. She looked in the glass, and still Tom
laughed and clapped his hands, and Maggie's
flushed cheeks began to pale and her lips to
tremble a little.
Oh, Maggie, you '11 have to go down to din-
ner directly,' said Tom. 'Oh my !'
Don't laugh at me, Tom,' said Maggie, in a
passionate tone, with an outburst of angry tears,
stamping, and giving him a push.
"' Now, then, spitfire !' said Tom, 'what did
you cut it off for, then?' I shall go down; I can
smell the dinner going in.'
"He hurried down but Maggie, as she
stood crying before the glass, felt it impossible that
she should go down to dinner and endure the severe
eyes and severe words of her aunts, while Tom
and Lucy, and Martha, who waited at table, and
perhaps her father and her uncles, would laugh at
her; for if Tom had laughed at her, of course
every one else would; and if she had only let her
hair alone, she could have sat with Tom and Lucy,
and had the apricot pudding and the custard I
What could she do but sob?" .
"' Miss Maggie, you 're to come down this
minute,' said Kezia, entering the room hurriedly.
'Lawks! what have you been a-doing? I niver
see such a fright.'
"'Don't, Kezia,' said Maggie, angrily. 'Go
But I tell you, you 're to come down, Miss,
this minute; your mother says so,' said Kezia,
going up to Maggie and taking her by the hand to
raise her from the floor.
Get away, Kezia; I don't want any dinner,'
said Maggie, resisting Kezia's arm. 'I shan't
'Oh, well, I can't stay. I've got to wait at
dinner,' said Kezia, going out again.
"'Maggie, you little silly,' said Tom, peeping
into the room ten minutes after, why don't you
come and have your dinner? There 's lots o'
goodies, and mother says you're to come. What
are you crying for, you little spooney?'
"Oh, it was dreadful! Tom was so hard and
unconcerned: if he had been crying on the floor,
Maggie would have cried too. And there was the
dinner, so nice; and she was so hungry. It was
"But Tom was not altogether hard. He was
not inclined to cry, and did not feel that Maggie's
grief spoiled his prospects of the sweets; but he
went and put his head near her, and said in a
lower, comforting tone:
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
'Won't you come then, Maggie? Shall I bring
you a bit o' pudding when I 've had mine?-and
a custard and things ?'
'Ye-e-es,' said Maggie, beginning to feel life
a little more tolerable.
'Very well,' said Tom, going away. But he
turned again at the door, and said, 'But you'd
better come, you know. There 's the dessert-
nuts, you know-and cowslip wine.'
Maggie's tears had ceased, and she looked re-
flective as Tom left her. His good-nature had
taken off the keenest edge of her suffering, and
nuts with cowslip wine began to have their effect
"Slowly she rose from among her scattered locks,
and slowly she made herway downstairs. Then she
stood leaning with one shoulder against the frame
of the dining-parlor door, peeping in when it was
ajar. She saw Tom and Lucy with an empty chair
between them, and there were the custards on a
side-table- it was too much. She slipped in and
went toward the empty chair. But she had no
sooner sat down than she repented, and wished
herself back again.
Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw
her, and felt such a 'turn' that she dropped the
large gravy-spoon into the dish with the most
serious results to the table-cloth. .. ."
Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn to-
ward the same point as her own, and Maggie's
cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg,
a kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said:
Heyday! what little gell 's this why, I don't
know her. Is it some little gell you 've picked up
in the road, Kezia ?'
Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself,'
said Mr. Tulliver in an under-tone to Mr. Deane,
laughing with much enjoyment." .
Why, little Miss, you've made yourself look
very funny,' said Uncle Pullet." .
'Fie, for shame !' said Aunt Glegg, in her
loudest, severest tone of reproof. 'Little gells as
cut their own hair should be whipped and fed on
bread and water, and not come and sit down with
their aunts and uncles.'
'Ay, ay,' said Uncle Glegg 'She must
be sent to jail, and they 'll cut the rest of her
hair off there, and make it all even.'
'She 's more like a gypsy nor ever,' said
Aunt Pullet, in a pitying tone ; it's very bad luck,
sister, as the gell should be so brown the boy 's
fair enough. I doubt it '11 stand in her way i' life
to be so brown.'
'She 's a naughty child, as '11 break her
mother's heart," said Mrs. Tulliver, with tears in
Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus of
reproach and derision. Her first flush came from
anger, which gave her a transient power of de-
fiance, and Tom thought she was braving it out,
supported by the recent appearance of the pudding
and custard. Under this impression, he whispered,
'Oh my Maggie, I told you you 'd catch it!'
He meant to be friendly, but Maggie felt con-
vinced that Tom was rejoicing in her ignominy.
Her feeble power of defiance left her in an instant,
her heart swelled, and, getting up from her chair,
she ran to her father, hid her face on his shoulder,
and burst out into loud sobbing.
"'Come, come, my wench,' said her father,
soothingly, putting his arm round her, 'never
mind; you was i' the right to cut it off if it plagued
you ; give over crying; father '11 take your part.'
Delicious words of tenderness Maggie never
forgot any of these moments when her father 'took
her part' ; she kept them in her heart, and thought
of them long years after. .. ."
With the dessert came entire deliverance for
Maggie, for the children were told theymight have
their nuts and wine in the summer-house, since
the day was so mild, and they scampered out
among the budding bushes of the garden, with the
alacrity of small animals getting from under a
The next day it was arranged that Mrs. Tulliver
should take the three children over to see Aunt
and Uncle Pullet, as a means of celebrating the
occasion of Lucy's visit. But the day had begun
ill with Maggie. The pleasure of having Lucy to
look at, and the prospect of the afternoon visit to
Garum Firs, where she would hear Uncle Pullet's
musical-box, had been marred as early as eleven
o'clock by the advent of the hair-dresser from St.
Ogg's, who had spoken in the severest terms of
the condition in which he had found her hair,
holding up one jagged lock after another, and say-
ing, See here tut-tut-tut! in a tone of mingled
disgust and pity, which to Maggie's imagination
was equivalent to the strongest expression of public
Then the tucker in which her mother dressed
her was stiff and prickly, and made her feel so
cross that she would certainly have torn it off, if
she had not been checked by the remembrance of
her recent humiliation about her hair." Then,
when they were all allowed to build card-houses
till dinner, as a suitable amusement for boys and
girls in their best clothes," Maggie's would n't
stand up, as Tom's and Lucy's did, and her tucker
made her peevish, and Tom "laughed when her
houses fell and told her she was a stupid.'
Don't laugh at me, Tom!' she burst out,
angrily; I 'm not a stupid. I know a great many
things you don't.'
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
1 1 ,
"ONE DELICIOUS, GRINDING SNIP, AND THEN ANOTHER AND ANOTHER, AND MAGGIE STOOD
CROPPED IN A JAGGED, UNEVEN MANNER."
'Oh, I dare say, Miss Spitfire! I'd never be
such a cross thing as you, making faces like that.
Lucy does n't do so. I like Lucy better than you:
I wish Lucy was my sister.'
'Then it's very wicked and cruel of you to
wish so,' said Maggie, starting up hurriedly from
her place on the floor, and upsetting Tom's won-
derful pagoda. She really did not mean it," but
Tom thought she did, and was very angry with
her. Thus the morning had been made heavy
to Maggie, and Tom's persistent coldness to her
all through their walk spoiled the fresh air and
sunshine for her. He called Lucy to look at the
half-built bird's nest without caring to show it to
Maggie, and peeled a willow switch for Lucy and
himself without a.':,ic-. one to Maggie. Lucy
had said, Maggie, should n't you like one ?' but
Tom was deaf.
"Still the sight of the peacock opportunely
spreading his tail on the stack-yard wall, just as
they reached Garum Firs, was enough to divert the
mind temporarily from personal grievances. And
this was only the beginning of beautiful sights at
Garum Firs. All the farm-yard life was wonder-
ful there-bantams, speckled and top-knotted;
Friesland hens, with their feathers all turned the
wrong way; Guinea-fowls that flew, and screamed,
and dropped their pretty-spotted feathers; pouter-
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
pigeons and a tame magpie; nay, a goat, and a
wonderful brindled dog, half mastiff, half bull-dog,
as large as a lion. Then there were white railings
and white gates all about, and glittering weather-
cocks of various designs, and garden walks paved
with pebbles in beautiful patterns-nothing was
quite common at Garum Firs; and Tom thought
that the unusual size of the toads there was simply
due to the general unusualness which character-
ized Uncle Pullet's possessions as a gentleman
farmer. Toads who paid rent were naturally
leaner. As for the house, it was not less remark-
able: it had a receding center, and two wings
with battlemented turrets, and was covered with
glittering white stucco."
One of the first things that Maggie did on en-
tering Aunt Pullet's beautifully kept house was to
"let fall her cake, and in an unlucky movement
crush it beneath her foot -a source of so much
agitation to Aunt Pullet and conscious disgrace to
Maggie, that she began to despair of hearing the
musical snuff-box to-day, till, after some reflection,
it occurred to her that Lucy was in high favor
enough to venture on asking for a tune. So she
whispered to Lucy, and Lucy, who always did
what she was desired to do, went up quietly to her
uncle's knee, and, blushing all over her neck
while she fingered her necklace, said, 'Will you
please play us a tune, Uncle ?'
For the first time Maggie forgot that she had
a load on her mind -that Tom was angry with
her; and by the time 'Hush, ye pretty warbling
choir,' had been played, her face wore that bright
look of happiness, while she sat immovable with
her hands clasped, which sometimes comforted her
mother with the sense that Maggie could look
pretty now and then, in spite of her brown skin.
But when the magic music ceased, she jumped up,
and running toward Tom, put her arm round his
neck and said, 'Oh, Tom, is n't it pretty? jerk-
ing him so as to make him spill his cowslip wine
that he held in his hand.
'Look there, now! '" said Tom angrily.
"'Why don't you sit still, Maggie?' her
mother said, peevishly.
Little gells must n't come to see me if they
behave in that way,' said Aunt Pullet.
'Why, you 're too rough, little Miss,' said
Poor Maggie sat down again, with the music all
chased out of her soul, and the seven small demons
all in again.
Mrs. Tulliver, foreseeing nothing but mis-
behavior while the children remained indoors, took
an early opportunity of suggesting that, now they
were rested after their walk, they might go and
play out of doors." .
All the disagreeable recollections of the morn-
ing were thick upon Maggie, when Tom, whose
displeasure toward her had been considerably re-
freshed by her foolish trick of causing him to upset
his cowslip wine, said, 'Here, Lucy, you come
along with me,' and walked off to the area where
the toads were, as if there were no Maggie in
existence. Lucy was naturally pleased that
Cousin Tom was so good to her, and it was very
amusing to see him tickling a fat toad with a
piece of string when the toad was safe down the
area, with an iron grating over him. Still Lucy
wished Maggie to enjoy the spectacle also, especially
as she would doubtless find a name for the toad,
and say what had been his past history; for Lucy had
a delighted semi-belief in Maggie's stories about
the live things they came upon by accident-
how Mrs. Earwig had a wash at home, and one
of her children had fallen into the hot copper, for
which reason she was running so fast to fetch the
doctor. Tom had a profound contempt for this
nonsense of Maggie's, smashing the earwig at once
as a superfluous yet easy means of proving the
entire unreality of such a story; for Lucy, for the
life of her, could not help fancying there was some-
thing in it, and, at all events, thought it was very
So she turned affectionately to Maggie and in-
vited her to come and look at the toad; but Mag-
gie was too hurt by Tom's neglect, and as long as
Tom seemed to prefer Lucy to her, Lucy made part
of his unkindness. Maggie would have thought a
little while ago that she could never be cross with
pretty little Lucy any more than she could be cruel
to a little white mouse; but then, Tom had always
been quite indifferent to Lucy before, and it had
been left to Maggie to pet and make much of her.
As it was, she was actually beginning to think
that she should.like to make Lucy cry by slapping
or pinching her, especially as it might vex Tom,
whom it was of no use to slap, even if she dared,
because he didn't mind it. And if Lucy hadn't
been there, Maggie was sure he would have got
friends with her sooner."
After a while Tom grew tired of tickling the
toad, and enticed Lucy away to the pond to look
at the pike, although the children had been told
not to leave the garden. Maggie could not bear
to be left behind, so she followed. Presently Tom
caught sight of something in the water, and called
Lucy to look at it. Maggie had drawn nearer
and nearer -she must see it too, though it was
bitter to her like everything else, since Tom did
not care about her seeing it. At last she was
close by Lucy, and Tom, who had been aware of
her approach but would not notice it till he was
obliged, turned round and said:
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
"'Now get away, Maggie. There's no room
for you on the grass here. Nobody asked you to
come.'" Stormy passions were at war in Maggie
at that moment but the utmost she could do,
with a fierce thrust of her small brown arm, was
to push poor little pink and white Lucy into the
Then Tom could not restrain himself, and
gave Maggie two smart slaps on the arm as he
ran to pick up Lucy, who lay crying helplessly.
Maggie retreated to the roots of a tree a few yards
off, and looked on impenitently."
Great was the consternation at the house when
Lucy was led in by Sally, the maid, to whom Tom
had intrusted the message to his mother that it
was Maggie who had pushed Lucy into the mud.
He did not stay to give the account himself, fore-
seeing that Maggie would not be considered the
only culprit in the case. Mrs. Tulliver went
out to speak to these naughty children, supposing
them to be close at hand ; but it was not until after
some search that she found Tom leaning with
rather a hardened, careless air against the white
paling of the poultry-yard, and lowering his piece
of string on the other side as a means of exasperat-
ing the turkey-cock."
When Mrs. Tulliver discovered, in answer to
her inquiries, that Tom had left Maggie at the
pond, he was instantly dispatched to bring his
sister to the house. In a short while Tom re-
turned, saying Maggie was nowhere about the
pond, and suggesting that she had probably gone
home. Mrs. Tulliver, however, was thoroughly
alarmed, and set about searching for Maggie in
all sorts of impossible places. What the father
would say if Maggie was lost, was a question that
predominated over every other.
Maggie's intentions, as usual, were on a larger
scale than Tom had imagined. *The resolution
that gathered in her mind, after Tom and Lucy
had walked away, was not so simple as that of
going home. No; she would run away and go to
the gypsies, and Tom should never see her any
more. That was by no means a new idea to Mag-
gie; she had been so often told she was like a
gypsy, and 'half wild,' that when she was mis-
erable it seemed to her the only way of escaping
opprobrium, and being entirely in harmony with
circumstances would be to live in a little brown
tent on the commons; the gypsies, she considered,
would gladly receive her, and pay her much re-
spect on account of her superior knowledge. She
had once mentioned her views on this point to
Tom, and suggested that he should stain his face
brown, and they should run away together; but
Tom rejected the scheme with contempt, observing
that gypsies were thieves, and had hardly anything
to eat, and had nothing to drive but a donkey.
To-day, however, Maggie thought her misery had
reached a point at which gypsydom was her only
refuge, and she rose from her seat on the roots of
the tree with the sense that this was a great crisis
in her life; she would run straight away till she
came to Dunlow Common, where there would cer-
tainly be gypsies, and cruel Tom, and the rest of
her relations who found fault with her should never
see her any more. She thought of her father as
she ran along, but she reconciled herself to the
idea of parting with him by determining that she
would secretly send him a letter by a small gypsy,
who would run away without telling where she
was, and just let him know that she was well and
happy, and always loved him very much.' "
Maggie wandered on and on, and presently
became conscious that she was hungry as well as
tired. At last, however, the green fields came
to an end, and she found herself looking through
the bars of a gate into a lane with a wide margin
of grass on each side of it. She had rushed
into the adventure of seeking her unknown kin-
dred, the gypsies; and now she was in this strange
lane, she hardly dared look on one side of her,
lest she should see the diabolical blacksmith in
his leather apron grinning at her with arms
akimbo. It was not without a leaping of the heart
that she caught sight of a small pair of bare legs
sticking up, feet uppermost, by the side of a hill-
ock; they seemed something hideously preter-
natural a diabolical kind of fungus ; for she was
too much agitated at the first glance to see the
ragged clothes, and the dark shaggy head attached
to them. It was a boy asleep; and Maggie trotted
along faster and more lightly, lest she should wake
him: it did not occur to her that he was one of her
friends the gypsies, who in all probability would
have very genial manners. But the fact was so,
for at the next bend in the lane Maggie actually
saw the little semicircular black tent, with the blue
smoke rising before it, which was to be her refuge
from all the blighting obloquy that had pursued
her in civilized life. She even saw a tall female
figure by the column of smoke-doubtless the
gypsy-mother, who provided the tea and other
groceries; it was astonishing to herself that she
did not feel more delighted. But it was startling
to find the gypsies in a lane, after all, and not on a
common; indeed, it was rather disappointing; for
a mysterious illimitable common, where there were
sand-pits to hide in, and one was out of every-
body's reach, had always made part of Maggie's
picture of gypsy life. She went on, however, and
thought with some comfort that gypsies most likely
knew nothing about idiots, so there was no danger
of their falling into the mistake of setting her down
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
at the first glance as an idiot. It was plain she
had attracted attention; for the tall figure, who
proved to be a young woman with a baby on her
arm, walked slowly to meet her. Maggie looked
up in the new face rather tremblingly as it ap-
proached, and was reassured by the thought that
her Aunt Pullet and the rest were right when they
called her a gypsy, for this face, with the bright
dark eyes and long hair, was really something like
what she used to see in the glass before she cut
her hair off.
(My little lady, where are you going to ?' the
gypsy said, in a tone of coaxing deference.
It was delightful, and just what Maggie ex-
pected: the gypsies saw at once that she was a
little lady, and were prepared to treat her accord-
"' Not any farther,' said Maggie, feeling as if
she were saying what she had rehearsed in a
dream. 'I 'm come to stay with you, please.'
"'That's pritty; come, then. Why, what a
nice little lady you are, to be sure,' said the gypsy,
taking her by the hand. Maggie thought her very
agreeable, and wished she had not been so dirty.
There was quite a group round the fire when
they reached it. An old gypsy-woman was seated
on the ground nursing her knees, and occasion-
ally poking a skewer into the round kettle that
sent forth an odorous steam: two small, shock-
headed children were lying prone and resting on
their elbows something like small sphinxes; and a
placid donkey was bending his head over a tall
girl, who, lying on her back, was scratching his
nose and indulging him with a bite of excellent
stolen hay. The slanting sunlight fell kindly
upon them, and the scene was very pretty and
comfortable, Maggie thought, only she hoped they
would soon set out the tea-cups. Everything
would be quite charming when she had taught
the gypsies to use a washing-basin, and to feel an
interest in books. It was a little confusing, though,
that the young woman began to speak to the old
one a language which Maggie did not understand,
while the tall girl, who was feeding the donkey,
sat up and stared at her without offering any salu-
tation. At last the old woman said:
'What, my pretty lady, are you come to stay
with us ? Sit ye down, and tell us where you come
"It was just like a story: Maggie liked to be
called pretty lady and treated in this way. She
sat down and said:
I 'm come from home because I 'm unhappy,
and I mean to be a gypsy. I '11 live with you, if
you like, and I can teach you a great many
'Such a clever little lady,' said the woman
with the baby, sitting down by Maggie, and allow-
ing baby to crawl; 'and such a pretty bonnet and
frock,' she added, taking off Maggie's bonnet and
looking at it, while she made an observation to the
old woman in the unknown language. The tall
girl snatched the bonnet and put it on her own
head hind-foremost with a grin; but Maggie was
determined not to show any weakness on this sub-
ject, as if she were susceptible about her bonnet.
"' I don't want to wear a bonnet,' she said;
I 'd rather wear a red handkerchief like yours '
(looking at her friend by her side) ; my hair was
quite long till yesterday, when I cut it off; but I
dare say it will grow again very soon,' she added.
Maggie had forgotten even her hunger at
the moment in the desire to conciliate gypsy
Oh, what a nice little lady !- and rich, I 'm
sure,' said the old woman. 'Did n't you live in a
beautiful house at home ?'
Yes, my home is pretty, and I 'm very fond
of the river, where we go fishing; but I 'm often
very unhappy. I should have liked to bring my
books with me, but I came away in a hurry, you
know. But I can tell you almost everything there
is in my books. I 've read them so many times -
and that will amuse you. And I can tell you
something about Geography too--that's about
the world we live in very useful and interesting.
Did you ever hear about Columbus?'
Maggie's eyes had begun to sparkle and her
cheeks to flush -she was really beginning to in-
struct the gypsies and gaining great influence over
them. The gypsies themselves were not without
amazement at this talk, though their attention
was divided by the contents of Maggie's pocket,
which the friend at her right hand had by this
time emptied without attracting her notice.
ls that where you live, my little lady ? said
the old woman, at the mention of Columbus.
'Oh, no! said Maggie, with some pity;
'Columbus was a very wonderful man, who found
out half the world, and they put chains on him,
and treated him very badly, you know- it's in my
Catechism of Geography- but perhaps it's rather
too long for me to tell before tea-: I want my
"The last words burst from Maggie, in spite of
herself, with a sudden drop from patronizing in-
struction to simple peevishness.
IWhy, she 's hungry, poor little lady,' said
the younger woman. Give her some o' the cold
victual. You 've been walking a good way, I '11
be bound, my dear. Where 's your home ?'
"' It's Dorlcote Mill--a good way off,' said
Maggie. 'My father is Mr. Tulliver; but we
must n't let him know where I am, else he'll fetch
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
me home again. Where does the queen of the
gypsies live? '
"' What! do you want to go to her, my little
lady?' said the younger woman. The tall girl
meanwhile was constantly staring at Maggie and
grinning. Her manners were certainly not agree-
No,' said Maggie; 'I 'm only thinking that
if she is n't a very good queen you might be glad
when she died, and you could choose another. If
I was a queen, I 'd be a very good queen and kind
Here 's a bit o' nice victual, then,' said the
old woman, handing to Maggie a lump of dry
bread, which she had taken from a bag of scraps,
and a piece of cold bacon.
Thank you,' said Maggie, lookingat the food
without taking it, 'but will you give me some
bread and butter and tea instead? I don't like
We 've got no tea nor butter,' said the old
woman, with something like a scowl, as if she were
getting tired of coaxing.
"' Oh, a little bread and treacle would do,' said
We ha'n't got no treacle,' said the old woman
crossly, whereupon there followed a sharp dia-
logue between the two women in their unknown
tongue, and one of the small sphinxes snatched at
the bread and bacon, and began to eat it."
Presently two men came up, looking so fierce
and talking so roughly that Maggie was frightened
and could hardly keep back her tears. The wo-
men chattered with them, and they all seemed to
"Maggie felt that it was impossible she should
ever be queen of these people, or ever communi-
cate to them amusing and useful knowledge. .
At last the younger woman said, in her previous
deferential, coaxing tone:
'This nice little lady's come to live with us;
are n't you glad ?'
'Ay, very glad,' said the younger, who was
looking at Maggie's silver thimble and other small
matters that had been taken from her pocket. .
The woman saw she was frightened.
"'We've got nothing nice for a lady to eat,'
said the old woman, in her coaxing tone, 'and
she's so hungry, sweet little lady.'
"'Here, my dear, try if you can eat a bit o'
this,' said the younger woman, handing some of
the stew on a brown dish with an iron spoon, to
Maggie. If her father would but come by in
the gig and take her up Or even if Jack the
Giant-killer, or Mr. Greatheart, or St. George
who slew the dragon on the half-pennies, would
happen to pass that way But Maggie thought,
with a sinking heart, that these heroes were never
seen in the neighborhood of St. Ogg's." .
Her ideas about the gypsies had undergone a
rapid modification in the last five minutes. From
having considered them very respectful com-
panions, amenable to instruction, she had begun
to think that they meant perhaps to kill her as
soon as it was dark, and cut up her body for gradual
cooking: the suspicion crossed her that the fierce-
eyed old man was in fact the devil, who might
drop that transparent disguise at any moment and
turn either into the grinning blacksmith, or else a
fiery-eyed monster with dragon's wings."
What! you don't like the smell of it, my dear,'
said the young woman, observing that Maggie did
not even take a spoonful of the stew. 'Try a
"'No, thank you,' said Maggie, summoning all
force for a desperate effort, and trying to smile in
a friendly way. 'I have n't time, I think, it seems
getting darker. I think I must go home now, and
come again another day, and then I can bring you
a basket with some jam tarts and nice things.'
"Maggie rose from her seat but her hope
sank when the old gypsy-woman said, 'Stop a bit,
stop a bit, little lady; we '11 take you home all
safe, when we 've done supper: you shall ride
home like a lady.'
"Maggie sat down again, with small faith in
this promise, though she presently saw the tall girl
putting a bridle on the donkey, and throwing a
couple of bags on his back.
Now, then, little Missis,' said the younger man,
rising, and leading the donkey forward, 'tell us
where you live what's the name o' the place ?'
'Dorlcote Mill is my home,' said Maggie,
What! a big mill a little way this side o' St.
'Yes,' said Maggie. 'Is it far off? I think
I should like to walk there, if you please.'
No, no, it '11 be getting dark; we must make
haste. And the donkey '11 carry you as nice as
can be you '11 see.'
He lifted Maggie as he spoke, and set her on
the donkey. She felt relieved that it was not the
old man who seemed to be going with her, but she
had only a trembling hope that she was really
Here 's your pretty bonnet,' said the younger
woman, putting that recently despised but now
welcome article of costume on Maggie's head;
'and you '11 say we 've been very good to you,
won't you ? and what a nice little lady we said you
Oh, yes, thank you,' said Maggie; 'I'm very
much obliged to you. But I wish you 'd go with me
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
too.' She thought anything was better than going
with one of the dreadful men alone; it wouldbe more-
cheerful to be murdered by a larger party." .
It now appeared that the man also was to be
seated on the donkey, holding Maggie before him,
and she was as incapable of remonstrating against
this arrangement as the donkey himself, though
no nightmare had ever seemed to her more hor-
rible. When the woman had patted her on the
back, and said Good-bye,' the donkey, at a strong
hint from the man's stick, set off at a rapid walk
-seemed to add to its dreariness: they had no
windows to speak of, and the doors were closed :
it was probable that they were inhabited by witches,
and it was a relief to find that the donkey did not
"At last -Oh, sight of joy! this lane, the
longest in the world, was coming to an end, was
opening on a broad high road, where there was
actually a coach passing! And there was a finger-
post at the corner: she had surely seen that finger-
post before 'To St. Ogg's, 2 miles.'
i!: r~' -t-U'a
"* -, ., .' .' - i*- i : -. ..- .;.<
.. -1 -. ""
j.^ (r 'i .L, i
Ii-~ *11 11-~~
.,.. ., ,
"THERE WAS QUITE A GROUP ROUND THE FIRE WHEN THEY REACHED IT."
along the lane toward the point Maggie had come
from an hour ago, while the tall girl and the rough
urchin, also furnished with sticks, obligingly es-
corted them for the first hundred yards, with much
screaming and thwacking."
It was a terrifying ride for poor Maggie. The
red light of the setting sun seemed to have a por-
tentous meaning, with which the alarming bray
of the second donkey with the log on its foot must
surely have some connection. Two low thatched
cottages the only houses they passed in this lane
The gypsy really meant to take her home,
then: he was probably a good man, after all, and
might have been rather hurt at the thought
that she did n't like coming with him alone.
As they reached a cross-road, Maggie
caught sight of some one coming on a white-
"' Oh, stop, stop !' she cried out. 'There's
my father Oh, Father, Father !'
The sudden joy was almost painful, and before
her father reached her she was sobbing. Great
TOM AND MAGGIE TULLIVER.
was Mr. Tulliver's wonder, for he had made a
round from Basset, and had not yet been home.
Why, what's the meaning o' this ?' he said,
checking his horse, while Maggie slipped from the
donkey and ran to her father's stirrup.
The little miss lost herself, I reckon,' said the
gypsy. 'She 'd come to our tent at the far end o'
Dunlow Lane, and I was bringing her where she
said her home was. It 's a good way to come arter
being on the tramp all day.'
'Oh yes, Father, he's been very good to
bring me home,' said Maggie. 'A very kind, good
'Here, then, my man,' said Mr. Tulliver, tak-
ing out five shillings. "It's the best day's work
you ever did. I could n't afford to lose the little
wench; here, lift her up before me.'
"'Why, Maggie, how 's this -how's this?' he
said, as they rode along, while she laid her head
against her father and sobbed. 'How came you
to be rambling about and lose yourself?'
"'Oh, Father,' sobbed Maggie, I ran away
because I was so unhappy-Tom was so angry
with me. I could n't bear it.'
"'Pooh! pooh!' said Mr. Tulliver, sooth-
ingly, 'you must n't think o' running away from
father. What 'ud father do without his little
'Oh no, I never will again, Father-never.'
"Mr. Tulliver spoke his mind very strongly
when he reached home that evening, and the effect
was seen in the remarkable fact that Maggie never
heard one reproach from her mother, or one taunt
from Tom, about this foolish business of her run-
ning away to the gypsies. Maggie was rather awe-
stricken by this unusual treatment, and sometimes
thought that her conduct had been too wicked to
be alluded to."
fl I,, 5 P. 19 I IfU
ilk j V! A
- --- ----
BY HULDAH MORGAN.
BANG, bang, went the pestle; snap, snap, flew
the coffee-kernels, over the kitchen floor, under
the cupboard, back of the door; sliding, and trip-
ping, and skipping, like so many little brown slip-
pers off on a frolic, with no restraining feet to guide
Such a kitchen for dancing: wide, and sunny,
and shining- an old, old kitchen in an old, old
house! And the sun glared brightly through the
low open windows; and the tall clock in the corner
looked down kindly, and did its best to tick off the
promptings for the merry little reel.
Bang, bang, bang; snap, snap, snap; and the
heavy iron pestle sank stiffly back against the soft,
Two long legs which had been stretched out on
the kitchen floor picked themselves up; two brown
hands, which had just let fall the black pestle,
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
drubbed a tattoo on the table, and a clear, boyish
voice burst out:
See the conquering he-e-ero comes!
Sou-ou-ound the trumpets, beat the drums"-
And the owner of the legs, hands, and voice,
looked cheerfully down at the brown fragments
strewed about the floor.
"Looks like a regular celebration. Guess
there 's enough left, though;" he peered scruti-
nizingly into the mortar. I put in a good charge
this afternoon. No weak coffee for to-morrow."
Then, with a sudden inspiration:
Weak coffee is a sign of slaveree,
None's wanted in this land of libertee."
After which original burst of patriotism, the lips
belonging to the voice puckered themselves up and
went off whistling, accompanied by the legs and
Now, you must know, that this was the eve of
July 4, 1876. The long-legged boy knew it; the
clock in the corner knew it; and the sun, bless
you, he knew it, too If you can keep a secret,
the sun, and the clock, and I will take you into our
confidence and tell you something that the long-
legged boy did n't know.
Long ago, on another July night, in some year
of our Lord (no matter which), in the days when
the house with the sunny kitchen was not an old
house, and when the clock that stood in the
corner-though quite as tall as it ever became-
was still young: just as the night was falling in a
little New England village, there came rumbling
up the street a fine yellow gig, drawn by an old,
white horse. On through the gloom of the even-
ing they came, horse, gig, and driver, past one
candle-lighted home after another, until the old
horse turned in and stood before the hospitable
door of this house, which then was not old. Out
through the open door floated the fragrance of
newly baked biscuit; and, within, one could catch
the faint glimmer of coals on the kitchen hearth.
There were oats and hay in the barn beyond,
and -rest: a thing not to be despised by a
country doctor's horse. It was a grateful sight to
a worn man; it was a tempting prospect to a hun-
gry beast; and the tired creature started impa-
tiently onward as his master alighted. But the
doctor hesitated and turned back, and the old
horse, obedient to his word, stood still.
And now the curtain rises upon our hero. It
is not the doctor; it is not the old white horse; it
is not to be even the boy with long legs. The
curtain was a leather curtain, and the hero was of
iron; which fact, no doubt, accounts for the un-
usual length of his heroic existence. The curtain
hung from the gig-cushion, and the doctor lifted
it and peered beneath it into that capacious and
mysterious region familiarly known as under-
the-seat." There was a moment of groping and
of subdued ejaculation on the part of the doctor.
and then there came, bumping and thumping out
upon the floor of the gig a heavy, black object,
which he straightway shouldered and carried within.
The old horse trotted off toward the barn ; but, if
you had ventured over the threshold after our hero,
you would have found him in the office standing
in state, surrounded by pill and powder, extract
and elixir,--all the helps and hindrances that the
knowledge of the times had brought to the little
country doctor in his unpretentious struggle against
suffering. Strong, heavy, and black, there stood
a large iron mortar, with its ponderous pestle.
Certainly. You have seen it before, in the
sunny kitchen with the low windows; but, his-
torically considered, this was its first appearance in
the large house with the tall clock. And so long
as the old doctor drove about in the yellow gig,
blistering and bleeding his grateful patients, so
long did the mortar and pestle stand faithfully at
home, keeping guard over their less steadfast com-
panions. But a time came when the days of the
years of the good old doctor were told; and then
our hero was banished, with saddle-bags and medi-
cine-chest, to a dark corner of the great garret.
There it stood, year after year, until one day
the boy with the long legs came upon it, dusty,
and covered with webs which some ambitious
spider had spun about it, thinking, perhaps, to
chain fast this iron fortress for its own. But the
boy, after the manner of many another investi-
gator, soon found that the responsibilities of dis-
covery are quite as great as its triumphs, and by
no means so short-lived. For the first flush of
interest in the new plaything had hardly faded,
when, in an unlucky hour, a second discovery was
made, and the young discoverer and the old hero
found themselves copartners in the daily task of
crushing the home-browned coffee.
The amount of noise which that venerable mor-
tar was capable of producing commanded a cer-
tain degree of respect. In addition to this, even a
short experience in life had taught Master Long-
legs the interesting lesson that the possession of
an intimate friend, upon whom one may work off
all ill-humor, is a blessing greatly to be desired.
Here was a comrade who might be pummeled by
the hour without injury to his physique; a friend
who responded sympathetically to noisy confi-
dences; a companion from whom there was no fear
ofrecrimination. Surely, it might have been worse!
Meanwhile, on this centennial eve, the hands on
the old clock-face had not been idle; the sun had
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
set; the moon had risen, and the shadows which
all the long afternoon had slanted eastward now
were turned toward the west.
The boy with the long legs had stopped whis-
tling and had assumed an air of supreme impor-
tance. Evidently affairs of moment demanded his
He had held numberless consultations with
other boys, all of whom wore a like expression of
importance. In a state of breathless excitement,
he had mounted Old Dobbin, and had gone
plunging down the street, upon some errand of
great secrecy. On their return, Old Dobbin was
observed to be in a similar state of breathlessness -
due, probably, to excitement.
Finally, with pockets full of fire-crackers and
punk, the boy had presented himself at the closed
door of an old red barn. Here he gave three
loud raps, three low raps, and stood waiting.
There was a fumbling within. Presently the door
creaked, stuck on its hinges, then suddenly burst
open. Straightway came the demand:
"Friend or foe ?"
Lexington, Lundy's Lane, fit, bled, and died,
ut, lie, quo, quin, and quominus! "
This countersign was admitted by all the boys to
be a gem of its kind. As Bob, the sentinel, put it,
" Tell you what, boys, she 's a regular little beauty,
and about as safe as they make 'em. She ain't the
sort of thing that a fellow 'd happen on by chance! "
Its accurate repetition seemed to give entire
satisfaction on this occasion, for the sentinel an-
"All right, fellows! Heave down the ladder,
and let the Colonel up."
But the ladder had made but half the descent
from the loft above, when the door was pushed
hurriedly open and a panting boy appeared. He
crowded by the Sentinel, impatiently exclaiming:
"Bother the countersign, Bob! I can't stop
for all that stuff Where 's the General ?"
The ladder struck the floor with a thump ; the
head of the General appeared in a bar of moon-
light which struck across the loft.
"Here! What's the matter?"
"Lots!" was the brief reply. Other heads
appeared, and from the darkness where heads
could not be seen voices were heard. Evidently,
the loft was a stronghold of some sort; for in a
moment it was alive with heads and voices; voices
of all keys, and heads of all ranks, to judge from
the titles used. There were colonels, majors, cap-
tains, lieutenants, ensigns, and- heralds! -boys
of every rank which a careful study of school his-
tories could suggest.
Sturdy New England boys they were; and, in
all her wanderings, the moon had not looked upon
a jollier and manlier set than those she was peer-
ing down upon, in the loft of the old red barn
on this night of July 3, 1876.
Sam, the newcomer, was already half-way up the
ladder. Eager hands pulled him over its project-
ing top, the Colonel following close at his heels.
"Now, Sam!" "Quick!" "What's up?"
came from all sides.
"Well,"-an ominous pause followed, as if the
news were too startling to be disclosed hastily-
"Dr. Chapin says the bell shan't ring to-night.
He does n't care who tries it-' up-streeter' or
'down-streeter' it's all the same to him "
Dr. Chapin! Were the skies falling? Good-
natured Dr. Chapin Why, since first the bell
was hung in the belfry of the village church, years
and years ago, its patriotic tones had been the first
in all the region to foretell the coming of each
Independence Day! Since the time when the gray-
haired men of the town were boys with Dr.
Chapin, no Fourth of July had come and gone
without the gallant struggle between the boys
living north of the church and the boys living
south of the church to outwit each other, and first
gain possession of the bell-rope.
For years, as the midnight stroke had awakened
the good people of the country-side to an en-
forced contemplation of the privileges of American
citizenship, they had turned wearily in their beds
and vowed that this should be the last time that
those boys should disturb their sleep. But when
the morning came, and those boys, hungry and
triumphant, came trooping home to breakfast;
when they reported that this year the down-
streeters had been first at the rope; or when
young Sam told old Sam how he had outwitted
young Bob, by very much the same stratagem
through which old Sam had been circumvented by
old Bob some thirty years before,-why, there
was an end of the matter And, after all, there
is but one Fourth of July in all the year, and hav-
ing one's rest broken some night a year hence, is a
matter of trival importance to-day. Three hun-
dred and sixty-four nights of undisturbed slumber
had always proved enough to efface the danger-
ous memory of the three hundred and sixty-fifth.
Back of all this, I suspect that no man had yet
been found who was bold enough to face the boy-
ish indignation that would be sure to follow his
rebellion. Thus the matter had rested through
two generations and part of another; and thus the
boys supposed that it would rest, perhaps forever!
That there would be grumbling to-night, far
and wide, when the tones of the bell were heard,
was what the boys expected; but that any one
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
would openly rebel and attempt to defraud them there were many, had looked complacent; the men,
of their ancestral rights, was an evil of which of whom there were few, had gazed admiringly.
they had not dreamed. And now the blow had It was at this inspiring moment that Sam ap-
peared with his startling
S- report. Prompt, deci-
--- sive action," the General
'H "'" had glibly counseled
;-.- -lr I moment before. Most truly
THE LONG-LEGGED BOY SAT DOWN TO CC
fallen, dealt by the hand of their own familiar
friend,-and that, too, in Centennial year! Do
you wonder that there was dire dismay in the loft
of the old red barn that night?
The boys never knew-I doubt if Dr. Chapin
himself ever knew-how he came to this bold
determination. It may be that, to a thoroughly
good-natured man, the novelty of an occasional
ill-natured action is attractive.
The down-streeters had held their meeting early
to give them time to complete preparations for a
strategic movement (so the General, its author,
called it) designed to outwit the company of the
up-streeters, and to gain for themselves a signal
victory -in other words, a speedy ascent to the old
belfry and the first pull at the bell-rope. Its success-
ful accomplishment demanded, so the General had
just told them, prompt, decisive action on the part
of both officers and men. The officers, of whom
it was needed; but what
S'should that action be?
i The renewal of the yearly
II I '!, skirmish against the up-
J, ,.' streeters was insignificant
in comparison with a com-
bat, wherein the good-na-
tured doctor figured as
S" Oh, what nonsense !"
April fool 's over, Sam "
Sr What do you take us
S for ?" were the greetings
hurled at the innocent
bearer of the unwelcome
--- news as he stood among
--them. Too crestfallen to
reply, he drew from his
pocket something that re-
elected a dull glimmer in
the moonlight. There was
a shout of relief as he held
Sit up. The church key! "
Knew you were fooling !"
"Good for you, Sam "
But Sam's attitude was
:. anything but reassuring.
"Where's the other?"
)NSIDER. asked some one. "That's
just it!" burst out Sam.
"This is only the inside key. Dr. Chapin says
the outside key is where none of us will get it
until five o'clock to-morrow morning." Five
o'clock on a Fourth of July morning! To hear
the tumult that followed one would suppose that
the glory of the national Stars and Stripes depended
upon the ringing at midnight of the church-bell
in this little New England village.
The General, who had been sprawling on the
hay in abject confusion since the arrival of this
intelligence, now raised his head with a good-
natured, "Come, fellows, shut up!"
The inviting proposition apparently met with
little favor, for the hubbub only increased. This
was humiliating. The General sprang up astride
a projecting beam. He looked about for some-
thing with which to call the meeting to order.
"Bob Pitch up that rake "
The Sentinel, who, regardless of the possible
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
entrance of the foe, was balanced in a perilous
position at the fop of the ladder, chanced to hear
the request, and obediently handed up his weapon.
With this unwieldy mace, the General proceeded
to pound Order at the same time emphasizing
his commands with several well-aimed thrusts at
the most noisy of the offenders within his reach.
Gradually, by dint of frantic pounding and
pokings, and because there seemed nothing to say
further than to threaten the absent doctor with the
most reckless kinds of revenge, the loft became
tolerably quiet, and the boys turned their attention
to their commanding officer.
He still sat on the beam, warm but triumphant.
"Well," reproachfully and with a final blow of
the rake handle, I should think you might keep
still a minute and hear what a fellow's got to say "
"Yes," boldly echoed the Sentinel. "I 'll put
the next fellow out of the fort, who can't keep
quiet, and mind his own business "
"You Better put yourself there !" chuckled
the Colonel, as there came a thundering knock at
"Come, hurry up!" "Don't let 'em in!"
"You 're a pretty sentinel! Don't forget the
countersign!" followed the humiliated soldier in
his rapid and reckless descent of the ladder. But
whoever was without did not choose to take advan-
tage of the unguarded state of the outposts, for
the knocking continued. The Sentinel reached
the door; there was an animated parley for a few
moments, and then came the report, "It's Dick
Hall from the up-streeters, with a flag of truce."
The General hesitated; military etiquette con-
cerning the reception of flags of truce and their
bearers was unknown to him. He had a suspicion
that it would not be in accordance with the dignity
of his position for him to go out to the messenger.
To admit one of the enemy to the loft while every-
thing was still in confusion would never do.
Meanwhile the messenger waited.
The General glanced questioningly around in
the dim light; then, with a desperate assumption
of coolness, boldly commanded, "Bring in the
The gravity with which this request was heard
was reassuring; the General breathed more freely.
Evidently, no one thought of objecting to this
proceeding, the Sentinel least of all. He promptly
showed himself at the open door with the demand,
Let 's have your flag, Dick "
Dick's own knowledge of the ultimate destina-
tion of flags of truce was quite as misty as the
Sentinel's; but he had no notion of allowing
military demand to interfere with personal right.
The flag was his own handkerchief; its staff, his
popgun. So he stoutly replied, "Not much! "
They always do," rejoined the Sentinel.
To doubt this statement might be to show igno-
rance of military measures; that Dick would not
do before a down-streeter.
"Well," he admitted doubtfully, "take it; but
be sure to bring it back. What are you going to
do with it, though ? "
The poor General, within, was intent on the
same question; but of that the Sentinel knew
nothing as he witheringly replied, "Do with it?
Why, what they always do."
The flag was promptly presented within. It had
been used during the day to hold Dick's store of
ammunition; and now, grimy, and with a strong
odor of gunpowder, it seemed anything but a signal
of peace. The boys gravely watched the ascent of
this limp banner to the loft, feeling that a certain
degree of respect was due it from its connection
with such an important matter. They evidently
shared Dick's curiosity as to what was to be done
with it, but they said nothing.
It was a trying moment for the General;. but his
honesty came to his rescue.
Well, boys," he frankly admitted, "I 'm up
a stump! What 's to be done with it? "
The gravity of the loft, which was fast becoming
painful, vanished as the Colonel promptly sug-
gested, "Wash it "
This restored the General's presence of mind.
Here, you, Bob, take her back Colonel, you
come along with me, and find out what's wanted!
The rest of you fellows keep quiet, and get up a
plan to beat the doctor "
Five minutes went by and no feasible plan had
been suggested; ten minutes, and the General
had not yet returned; fifteen minutes, and the
boys began to grumble; twenty minutes, and the
Colonel suddenly appeared among them.
"Oh, boys, such larks! and with an ecstatic
whoop the Colonel mounted the ladder. After,
came the commander-in-chief of the up-streeters,
and behind him, pell-mell, all his devoted troops.
"Three cheers for the up-streeters! shouted
the General, who was bringing up the rear.
"Whoop, whoop, hooray roared the invading
host, untroubled by any feelings of false modesty.
Hooray! feebly echoed the wondering boys
in the loft, who (to prevent any possible misunder-
standing) immediately added the threatening re-
quest, Say, want us to pitch into them ? "
No, no shouted the General and Colonel.
"Come on, if you want to invited the un-
"Hold on, can't you?" the General ordered,
despairingly. "Just wait till you hear what's up,"
and he scrambled up the ladder and once more
mounted the executive beam.
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
The boys were growing angry; there was not a
moment to lose.
Now, fellows, ki, yi Here 's to beat the doc-
tor and, with a swing of his hat, the General
This was irresistible; up-streeters and down-
streeters howled in company.
"Now, then," demanded the General, seizing
his chance, are you ready ? and, before any one
had an opportunity to object, he had begun his
speech. After that, curiosity kept the boys quiet
while the General explained affairs.
He told them that a new foe had appeared, and
old feuds must be forgotten; the forces of the
street must unite to defeat the doctor's unpatriotic
demand. The up-streeters had a scheme, a scheme
that he, himself, would have been proud to get
up ; they invited the down-streeters to help put it
through. Would they do it?
It was a very simple plot, as all successful plots
are, I believe. A window with a broken lock in the
church gallery, a tree just outside with a strong
limb leaning down near to the window, and, to
reach the limb, there was the doctor's brand-new
The poetic justice of this last suggestion ap-
pealed to their boyish imaginations, and a mighty
shout went up when at last the General's speech
Peace between the up-streeters and the down-
streeters was declared on the spot. Then came a
grand council of war, the once rival commanders
conferring amicably in the loft.
The hands of the old clock in the kitchen pointed
to eleven, and the moon rode high in the heavens,
when, with completed plans, the enthusiastic
young belligerents marched peacefully over the
quiet fields to the little white church.
Doctor Chapin was sleeping- a quiet, restful
sleep -when there came, trembling through the
summer air, the muffled, uncertain first stroke of
a bell tolled by unaccustomed hands.
Doctor Chapin opened his eyes. "Imagina-
tion rubbish and he smiled a grim smile to
think that the habit of years had waked him on
this July night. Doctor Chapin was something
of a philosopher, and he reflected, This cer-
tainly will make a good story for me to tell at the
next meeting of the Connecticut Valley Medical
What Doctor Chapin thought next, I do not
know. What he said next, I shall not tell: it was
not Imagination !- rubbish I "- for, clear and
full, there came, as if in contradiction of his
thought, a second stroke, this time firm and
even with the strength of many hands.
I have it on the authority of an old owl, who
was perched on a tree without, that, at the third
stroke, the doctor appeared in the open window
with an ejaculation of which a devout owl could
not approve. It was at the eleventh stroke, the
owl said, that the doctor's face brightened, and he
gave a happy chuckle as he murmured to him-
self, I 've got it. I '11 be even with the young
rascals yet! "
Seventy-six strokes they pulled,-some short,
some long, some strong, some feeble, as different
sets of boys relieved each other ; and then a line
of dark figures came sliding one after another down
At two o'clock they were to come back again;
until that time there was other sport on hand.
The window was closed, the ladder laid behind a
fence, and the boys were off.
Two o'clock came and with it came the boys,
somewhat sleepy and ravenously hungry, but still
There was a race for the church, a chase up the
ladder, a rush for the bell-rope.
Now then, boys! Here she goes!"
With a shout, they bent eagerly to the task;
but from the bell above there came no answering
"That's queer; try it again. Now, then!"
and the boys breathed deep and pulled hard; the
creaking rope slid stiffly back, grating mournfully
in its wooden socket; but still the bell was silent.
The rope fell from their hands. They looked
suspiciously at each other.
Anybody been cheating?"
Stories of witches and goblins floated into the
memory of some of the smaller boys.
You don't suppose it 's ghosts, do you ? tim-
idly suggested one of the boys, who, with an eye
to unearthly possibilities, had already considerably
shortened the distance between himself and the
Ho, ho, ho laughed the Colonel. "Ghosts ?
Come on and let 's find 'em! Up to the belfry,
So up to the dark belfry they went. Once in
the belfry, there was an eager search; and a howl
of dismay went up from the boys, as in breath-
less tones the General announced, "The-bell-
tongue 's gone! "
They searched high, they searched low, under
the rafters, back of the beams, but no bell-tongue
could be found.
They formed in line, and each, in turn, vowed
that he knew nothing of the missing clapper.
Well wailed the boys disconsolately, at last,
"the fun's all over; we might as well go home
and go to bed."
Then, suddenly, the Colonel's cheerful voice
RINGING IN THE FOURTH.
rang out, "Say, fellows, got any wire? Well,
then, I 've got an idea. You just bless the shades
of my ancestors, and I '11 be back in a jiffy,"
and the Colonel and his idea disappeared in the
Down the ladder, over the fence he went,
through the dewy fields he ran, until, panting but
gleeful, he stood within the door-yard of the old,
old house. A mosquito net guarded the kitchen's
open window. He hesitated an instant, and then
put his fist boldly through. Fix it to-morrow,"
he muttered. A moment and he stood within.
There, in the corner, he saw the object of his com-
ing: -the old mortar and pestle. He lifted the
pestle gently and laughed softly to himself as he
said, "Ha, ha, my beauty! You won't make a
bad clapper for a centennial bell, will you? And
then he was off again.
A pair of dewy shoes stood by Dr. Chapin's bed;
a coat covered with webs and dust was flung over
the back of a chair, while on the table glimmered
a small iron object which had not been there two
The doctor was dreaming,-dreaming of this
same piece of iron. He thought that he held it
firmly in his hand, when suddenly it wrenched
itself from his grasp, rapped him sharply over the
knuckles, perched itself familiarly on his shoulder,
and shouted in his ear, Clang, clang "
The dream ended; but still sounded the metallic
voice,-" Clang, clang !" There was no mis-
taking it. He sprang from his bed; a rapid search
showed the innocent iron tongue lying untouched
on the table.
Steadily from the old belfry tower rang out the
bell, peal after peal, as if the glad spirits of the
boys were mocking the short-lived triumph of the
The old gentleman dropped into a chair and
groaned. Seventy-six strokes they had pulled be-
fore; probably they would now complete the other
Why did n't I let those boys alone ? I might
have known they would get the best of it! But,
where, in this glorious Republic, did they rake up
another clapper? And then from groaning the
doctor fell to laughing,-which proves, without
doubt, that he was a philosopher.
By and by the boys grew tired or took pity, and
the clangor in the belfry died away. And then,
from laughing, the doctor fell once more to sleep-
ing, and the boys trooped home.
The mortar and the pestle still stand in the
pleasant kitchen; and the iron tongue has found
its way home to its belfry tower, where, perhaps,
some day you may come upon them, guarding the
old, old house and the little church in the quiet
N ~ I
Stri et & ParoaI1c, S
*.. il S"qusIc an, T
U -o Ln a.
.-,. or- i..-.
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
BY GERTRUDE VAN R. WICKHAM.
JOHN BURROUGHS'S DOGS.
JOHN BURROUGHS is famous for his success in
reading a wonderfully interesting book, which is
written in a language few can translate for want of
the proper eyesight; for in order to read even the
shortest chapter of it, observing eyes, studious
eyes, and, above all, loving eyes are required.
Other books may be read at one's ease. One
can study them by the fireside in winter, under
shelter when it storms, in cool shadows when the
sun is fierce; but he who turns the leaves of the
Book of Nature ofttimes must do so at much sacri-
fice of physical comfort, regardless of cold or heat,
unmindful of rain or snow, and forgetful even of
And then, after each lesson is learned, to make
the study of practical value the reader should be
able to repeat the lesson in language which all
This, John Burroughs does most delightfully,
and offers us dainty volumes concerning Birds
and Poets," Fresh Fields," Winter Sunshine,"
and the "Wake Robin." He is like a florist who
i : II
K I ,
ri ~ a!
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
takes a patch of uncultivated land for his garden,
and, after a spring and summer of care and toil,
invites into it all who love flowers, selecting and
arranging the choicest for them to bear away.
One can easily imagine Mr. Burroughs's boy-
hood. Even then he must have been a rare com-
panion for a walk, seeing with his young eyes what
was invisible to others; detecting the first breath
of spring upon the imprisoned tree-buds; hearing
the faint, far-away notes of the coming birds;
knowing when and where to look for the rarest
wild-flowers; noticing every change of form and
color in the passing clouds, and giving, in those
early days, bright promise of the future which
finds him to-day the famous American author and
We shall not be surprised to learn that one who
has discovered the family secrets of the birds, and
is on intimate terms with that shy symphony in
water-colors, the speckled brook trout, is also fond
of all animals, and especially of dogs.
They are the chosen companions of his daily
rambles, and are otherwise taken into distinguished
In loving a dog," he says, one is always
sure of a full return."
Within twelve years, or since living at West
Park, New York, Mr. Burroughs has had three
little black-and-tan friends, all of whom succes-
sively came to grief, leaving behind them a sorrow-
The first was "Rab," who lived only a year,
and then fell a victim to distemper. He was loved
in the family almost as though he were a child,
and regretful tears were shed at his death.
The next one was Rove," a wonderfully spirited
and intelligent dog. He was very fleet-footed, and
always began to chase the sparrows in his glee,
when he saw Mr. Burroughs making ready for a
walk or a drive.
He lived to be three years old, and in that time
came almost to read his master's very thoughts.
Rove was poisoned.
His successor was Lark," the dog of the gentle
heart; neither so active nor so intelligent as Rove,
but very affectionate. A simple-minded dog was
Lark. When seizing a squirrel he would take hold
as far from the squirrel's little teeth as possible,-
usually by the tail,- and consequently was always
Lark became very dear to his master, and they
had many walks and talks together. When he
died, in 1881, Mr. Burroughs was so bereaved that
he concluded to love no more dogs, and kept that
resolution for four years.
Here is a bit of doggerel that Mr. Burroughs
used to repeat to his little boy about Lark, which
will interest the Very Little Folks of ST. NICH-
"My dog Lark,
He can bark
And hit the mark
'Way over to Hyde Park."
The present reigning favorite is "Laddie."*
I wish that I were able to place him upon the
same high plane of fidelity and affection as was
occupied by his lamented predecessors, but,-
alas !- Laddie is unmindful of his rare privileges,
and sometimes forsakes his master to run off to
town with the butcher !
It seems too bad thus to publish him to the
"LADDIE," ONE OF JOHN BURROUGHS'S DOGS.
world; for, if he could realize how his shortcom-
ings were being spread before so many critical
young eyes, he doubtless would be much mortified,
and at once mend his vagabond ways.
Fortunately for Mr. Burroughs, Laddie. is not
his only dog. He has a fine black setter, by the
waggish name of I Know," who is all one could
wish in a canine friend; faithful, affectionate, and
with no interests separate from those of his master.
He seems not to have a single savage, or even
unkind, drop of blood in his veins. Indeed, it must
be an animal of unbounded good nature that would
allow two cats and a smaller dog to use him as a
rug; for in cold weather Laddie coolly settles
himself for the night in the space between I
Know's outstretched legs, curling up against his
* See "Letter-box," page 7x6.
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
long silken hair to keep warm; while the cats, for
the same reason, nestle close to their big, gentle
friend, and sometimes even sit upon him as he lies
stretched out by the kitchen stove.
Occasionally I Know acts as if he knew he
was being put upon, for no dog of character would
springs upon him, usually putting one paw on Mr.
Burroughs's arm, and hopping along for the first
few paces on his hind legs !
A sportsman would not value I Know highly,
for, although a thoroughbred setter, he has never
been trained to hunt; but the instinct is strong in
" .-, ,
~id I.3 tz &c,
.... -- : .. '- -
"I KNOW, A SETTER DOG BELONGING TO JOHN BURROUGHS.
care to be found in such an undignified position.
But he is too kind-hearted openly to resent their
freedom, so his only recourse is to shed the cats,
and deprive Laddie of his silken blanket by get-
ting up and laying himself down in another place.
We can imagine the dazed look of the cats as they
feel their soft couch heaving, and find themselves
pitched off upon the floor, and the disgust of that
little rascal, Laddie, when his covering walks away.
But we need not pity them, for we can imagine
also just how long poor I Know is allowed to pos-
sess his new camping-ground in peace. No longer
than it takes those comfort-loving friends to stretch
themselves, walk around to the other side of the
stove, and establish themselves in their old posi-
The great moment of the day with I Know, is
when he sees his master getting ready for an after-
dinner walk. Then how he leaps, and barks, and
him, and he scours the fields and woods in a lively
manner, especially when he strikes the trail of a
partridge. Then he is in a quiver of excitement.
We trust that faithful, obedient I Know will be
long-lived, and for many years to come continue
thus to be his master's companion and humble
friend. As for the rebellious truant, Laddie, we are
certain that when his wild youth is over he will
pose as a reformed dog, and will offer good advice
drawn from his own experience.
T. B. ALDRICH'S DOG.
OF course, an animal of such rare attainments
lives in Boston, and furthermore, he assists in
editing the Atlantic Monthlly!
Lest the latter statement lead to injustice, and
Triplet be held responsible for all the dogmas
expounded in that highly respectable magazine,
,'6 .;,: i',.',
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
let me hasten to explain that his connection with
the Atlantic, though most honored and intimate,
is somewhat limited.
His duties, performed with great regularity and
decorum, are self-appointed and self-taught. In-
deed, regarded solely as a dog of letters, he would
be considered truly a self-made dog.
He watches for the postman, receives the mail,
and carries it proudly and safely to the library of
his master, who is Thomas Bailey Aldrich, poet
"TRIPLET," T. B. ALDRICH'S DOG.
and author, and editor of the Atlantic VMonthly.
In view of this fact there may be foundation for
the rumor that Triplet is the medium between his
master and the waste-paper basket; that by a
mutual understanding the dog singles out rejected
manuscript at a glance, and gently drops it where
Triplet, as his name suggests, is one of a trio of
playmates, his two companions being Mr. Ald-
rich's twin sons; and probably it is safe to say
that one-third of all the fun and frolic, one-third
of all the noise and mischief, sure to occur in a
house sheltering two boys and a dog, is made by
the beautiful, petted, Irish setter.
So much of a child is he himself, that he requires
a warm, comfortable bed every night; he brings
it down from an upper room, and sleeps with his
1.::i. ilh ., i pillow.
.\ih,:.., :!.. I rrust, a dog of strictest democratic
p:i ".: pl.:- i .-,:.ord with his environment, Triplet
pI' rh i.. ..:.,ii1.I Ie justified in assuming aristocratic
i :r....i-,d i.i ,:. [a cies; for he is of a rare breed, and
I,,. 1 c-.:.- I.:. i, -ive won enviable distinction at dog
A.1-.1.'- r.- Il.:-se natural advantages, is an aca-
.:l- i.: i .:.l i.: rion acquired at Sumner's kennels,
LDci.:l i:r. '.lass., where he graduated well-
[ t1-, 1 h, i, tUn.
I :.- K; R. STOCKTON'S DOG.
.::" .:' a melancholy proof of the saying,
1 ..:-r.1.: ll happen in the best-regulated
families." Mr. Frank Stockton,
though a brilliant novelist, is,
or was, no judge of a dog. He
fell into the grave error of pre-
suming that the biggest is invari-
ably the best. But we, who are
I wiser, know that the tiniest plant
S,' in a bed of seedlings, or the
SI, weeniestt" puppy in a litter of
dogs, is often the choicest.
So, when Fax rapidly outgrew
his brothers and sister and be-
came so large and clumsy as to
interfere with their comfort, and
even to endanger their safety, Mr.
Stockton never should have ac-
--- -- cepted him as a gift. But, if
he had not, Fax would have lived
and died in obscurity, so the
world would not have known
-M all the possibilities of canine
character; and, after all, in some
respects he was such a dog
as you naturally would expect
Mr. Stockton to call his own. He was perfectly
original, and entirely unconventional. Little cared
he that his mother was a beautiful black setter,
and that her other puppies usually favored the
maternal side of the house. He preferred to be
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
liver-colored and white, himself, and to look and
act like a conglomerate of all kinds of dogs; to
have the head of a hound, the ears of a spaniel,
and the forelegs of a setter, while the rest of his
body was that of a pointer:
But it was not merely this physical patchwork
that made Fax an object of interest. His mental
incongruities were equally varied. Ignoring the
traditional rules of interest or affection that are
supposed to govern the canine mind, he succeeded
in keeping himself continually conspicuous, and
consequently never suffered the neglect which is
too often the portion of modesty or diffidence.
"Fax's latest" became an absorbing topic of
family interest; and "What will he do next?"
was a daily inquiry.
One of his eccentricities was a too literal inter-
'4 d '-, :
^^ ^ !A
tea; we have a spare bed, if only you will stay.'
Then, still wagging himself about the pleased
visitor, he would drop a little behind, and have
the guest by the leg before one could say Jack
Fax had a scientific turn of mind. He early
established a museum in the back yard, and was
always collecting material for it. He never be-
came discouraged at the frequent raids made upon
it by various members of the family who objected
to his methods of acquiring specimens.
Bones, whether of beast, fish, or fowl, were care-
fully covered up, together with his master's slippers,
his mistress's purse, and the baby's stockings.
Early morning, before the family were up, was his
favorite time for work in this direction; and then
he would stand around, looking unconscious and
"FAX," A DOG WHICH BELONGED TO FRANK R. STOCKTON. (AFTER A SKETCH FROM MEMORY BY MR. STOCKTON.)*
pretation of the injunction, "Welcome the coming,
speed the parting guest." He was in such a hurry
to do the speeding that he frequently commenced
it before the caller entered the house. Mr. Stock-
ton says-" He would run to meet the person as
though he had known the visitor intimately for
years,- wagging his tail and his body too, as if
simple tail-wagging were too slight a welcome for
so distinguished a guest. As the dog went caper-
ing and mincing down the path, his every gesture
seemed to say, 'Why, how do you do? How
glad we shall all be to see you Everything is
ready for you; there are chickens and hot rolls for
innocent, while they, half dressed, were searching
for missing articles, and exclaiming, "Who took
my shoes ? Where is my other stocking ? "I
say, who's dot my towsis ?"
This tendency to appropriate and secrete things
for which he could have no possible use did not
cease with his puppy-days; and with his maturer
months was developed an utter disregard for the
rights of property in general. He no longer felt
limited in his choice of food, for instance; both the
butcher and the baker were close at hand, and it
was easier to help himself abroad than to wait for
his usual dinner at home: and whenever he chose
*See "Letter-box," page 7x6.
DOGS OF NOTED AMERICANS.
to change his diet, there were delicious herring at
the nearest grocer's, and he knew where they were
He was generally on hand when his master or
mistress started out for a walk, ready to go along
and to bring distress and shame upon them. Mr.
Stockton relates a vexatious but amusing instance
in which Fax made him feel conspicuous and
One Sunday, as with a well-dressed crowd I
was going to church, I found Fax following me.
Knowing that he never entered a church, I took no
particular notice of him; but happening to lookback
a second time, I saw him at my heels with a twist-
loaf in his mouth! He had been in the shop of an
irreligious baker in those few minutes. This was
too much for my sense of propriety, and as I failed
utterly to drive him off, and began to attract con-
siderable attention, I was obliged to go down a
side-street and so home. That dog was never
abashed. I have seen him chase chickens into
the very houses of their owners, and, before their
astonished eyes, pin the poor fowls to the floor.
Of course, at such times, I did not wish any one to
think that I was acquainted with the dog. But on
being discovered in any disreputable intrusion into
house, store, or garden, it was his habit to run to
us, and jog along demurely behind us, as much as
to say, 'These are the folks I belong to; if you
have anything to say, say it to them.' And very
often people did say it to us."
And yet, no one could help liking Fax, for in
spite of his glaring faults, he was interesting. Such
an utterly ridiculous dog could scarcely fail of being
so. And then he was kind and affectionate with
the children of the family.
Also, Fax at times displayed great intelligence.
A large dog, chained during the day, was let loose
at night, well muzzled. Several mornings in suc-
cession his muzzle was found hanging loose from
his neck. How it became unfastened was a great
mystery until a watch was set upon him, when it
was discovered that soon after being untied for the
night he would lie down on the grass, and Fax
would unbuckle the strap with his teeth, and pull
the muzzle over the big dog's nose.
At different times, after some aggravating offense
against propriety or morals on the part of Fax,
Mr. Stockton would endeavor to escape from fur-
ther consequence of this canine mistake by giving
him away. But the dog always came, or was
brought, back. Then a relative, out of regard for
the family honor and peace, tried to poison him.
He ate the dose in safety, and licked his chops for
Finally, one day, he poked his head through
a pane of glass in a grocer's window, in order to
reach a coveted bunch of herring, and was then
and there handed over to justice, in the shape of a
passing porter, with orders to take the dog away
where none of the family would ever again set
eyes on him.
DRILL: A STORY OF SCHOOL-BOY LIFE.
BY JOHN PRESTON TRUE.
THE General was right. The new drill was a
complete success. For a time it beat even the
novelty, skate-sailing, out of sight; and putting
the students through the manual (which, be it
remarked, the General had devised without tak-
ing a trip to Arizona, or holding an interview with
the Apaches) kept the whole community in a
state of subdued excitement.
The two daily drill-hours were borne on the wings
of the wind, and were past before they seemed to
have more than come. There was so much to do in
them, and progress was so slow In the first place,
the boys found that Harry was a very martinet as
a drill-master, "out-heroding Herod" in that
respect. If a student failed in a maneuver, if he
hurried or was too slow, or if the twang of the
bow-string came two seconds too soon to be in
accord with the rhythmic count by which the
motions were measured, that student went back
to the beginning and did it all over again until he
was faultless. There was grumbling, of course; a
great deal of it, at one time or another. Perhaps
the only one who did not find fault was the very
one from whom trouble had been expected.
Mitchell, when his turn came, went at the manual
with a certain sullen determination to excel that
carried him through in just half the time required
for Lieutenant Rankin; and Mitchell received his
arrows first of all.
But Harry was popular, and, moreover, was
genuinely enthusiastic; besides, the habit of drill
had so wrought its work upon the students as to
render them far more receptive of ideas than any
raw recruits would be under similar circumstances.
So, thanks to a time of mild weather which pre-
cluded skating, he found it less of a task than he
had anticipated, to teach these hundred boys to
draw and to release their bow-strings together;
and after arrows had been given, battalion-drill
became a source of hearty enjoyment.
Some few complained of weariness, and were at
once supplied with lighter bows, after which no
further objection was heard. There was much
keen emulation among the different companies
over the records of their respective marksmanship;
for records had been kept from the day when first
they faced the targets with filled quivers and did
their best to mar the perfection of the fair sur-
faces. Company A led at the outset, of course;
but the others rapidly advanced in precision.
Under such inducements a week of school life
passes with astonishing swiftness, and when Satur-
day of another week dawned and left the first in
the past, hardly more than a day seemed to have
flown by. One thing attested it, however; the
threatened thaw had dallied by the way, and after
some slushy weather the ice was solid as a rock,
although a low moaning came from the southward
and a storm seemed brewing in that direction.
There are fashions among boys as among men.
Let a new game be launched upon the sea of life
and become caught in the undercurrent of public
approval and it soon leaves all others far behind,
as did the famous fifteen-puzzle" in the year
Harryalready had set a fashion. There was no
doubt about that. For days at a time the boys had
thought of nothing but his new method of flying,
and it was not as yet grown commonplace by famil-
iarity nor dulled in the least by the long interval.
The General even combined the novelties, for an
hour, by holding the Saturday quarter-staff drill
on skates upon the ice. Doctor McCarty was
inclined to joke about this experiment, and tried
to quiz the veteran over his lapse from precedent.
"Quite a mistake, Doctor! If you will read Dutch
and Swedish history you will find more than one
occasion upon which a force of skaters wrought
havoc in an enemy's ranks, hovering around them
like hawks, as the soldiers were marching across
some frozen lake. I believe that on at least one
such occasion, skaters took part in a regular pitched
battle and the oi soldier tugged at his mus-
tache with a certain feeling of grim humor at thus
having got the better of the little Doctor.
It was a glorious day for sailing. The wind
howled around the corners of the Institute build-
ings, and swept shrieking across the lake from the
southward until the boy, had difficulty in standing
against it, and those who had the means took a
reef in their lateens. Old sailors looked knowingly
at the signs in the sky, and predicted a snow-storm
within twenty-four hours. This only made the
boys more eager to make the most of the skating
while it lasted; and some twenty of them, having
little storm-lanterns swingingfrom the yards, started
immediately after supper, with the intention of
beating down the lake a dozen miles or more, and
then scudding back before the wind. Dane, Harry,
Rankin, Mitchell, and Nat Young were among
them, and all of them were skillful sailors on the
water, which is almost the same thing as being a
good ice-sailor. To know how to beat up against
a smacking breeze, to keep right side up when the
gusts came,- the same principles are to be fol-
lowed on ice or water. It was a pity there was
no moon until late that night; but the darkness
made the lanterns gleam all the brighter, as they
darted hither and thither like will-o'-the-wisps,
and the boys at the Institute watched them for a
long way, as they zigzagged to and fro in their
seemingly erratic and butterfly-like courses.
The sky was heavily overcast, and here and there
flakes of snow fluttered lazily down at shortening
intervals,- forerunners of the storm which the
weather prophets had predicted,- flakes at which
the principal shook his head with some misgiving,
and which led him to order the great lamp to be
lighted in the tall clock-tower. The lamp soon
sent a bright beam flashing through the darkness.
There was a crowd of skaters all the evening on
the ice near the Institute, in spite of the fact that
many of the students had been upon runners
nearly all day. Three or four kegs of tar were
mounted upon barrels ballasted with stones, and
with these for goals, blazing red in the night, many
a game of "Prisoner's Base" was played, varied
at intervals by its cousin among games, Scout."
The latter may not be known everywhere.
Briefly, it is this: Two boys keep the goal, touch-
ing every skater they can catch; while any player
who, untouched himself, can touch the goal, is safe
for that game; the first boy caught has to be goal-
keeper next time, while the last caught becomes
the second goal-keeper and chaser of the rest. It
was very exciting, and kept them warm with exer-
cise. They lacked the presence of the best play-
ers, however, all of whom were away with Harry
Wylie; and some began to wonder why the party
had not returned.
There they are shouted one at last, and all
within hearing turned and looked with straining
eyes. Far away, seeming almost on the horizon,
a score of twinkling lights mere pin-points -
glittered in a wavering fashion against the black
curtain of the sky, vanishing and reappearing
without growing perceptibly larger; while a strange
rumbling, grinding sound came echoing down the
wind, so faintly that for a time no one noticed it.
When gusts came, the low rumble grew louder,
but it died away to a mere murmur during the
Suddenly the distant lights grew dim for a
moment, and then vanished altogether. Five, ten
minutes passed, and still they did not reappear.
A gray mist was rapidly advancing toward the
skaters, spreading entirely across the lake. Then
came a hiss and a rush, and they found themselves
wrapped in a blinding snow-squall, the particles of
snowas fine as dust. Meanwhile the low rumbling
increased in volume as they struggled toward the
shore, guided by the reflector in the tower. At
the same moment a telegraph messenger rushed
up in great excitement with a dispatch, addressed
to the principal, from an agent down the lake:
Call in all skaters; ice is breaking up.
Scarcely a minute elapsed before, loud and clear,
the notes of the bugle rang out the Retreat,"
and in scurried the last of the skaters, with flying
feet, to join the crowd on shore. But the yachts-
men,- the swift-sailed Corinthians who shot away
southward in the early evening,-they had not
corhe back. And the ice was breaking up!
It was about half-past nine in the evening when,
some ten miles away from the Institute, the boys
had come about and on the starboard tack, hug-
ging the wind as closely as was possible, had
glided into a cove for a moment's rest. It was
hard work,- this standing up against the wind for
so long a time.
Nat Young's lantern had blown out, and he had
some difficulty in relighting it.
Strikes me that we have come far enough,"
he observed, when the flame was again burning
"It is about time to go back, that 's a fact,"
Dane assented, consulting his watch. How the
wind does blow! -What 's that, I wonder ? "
That," was a heavy crash reverberating along
the ice, which seemed to tremble under them,
startling every boy to his feet. They had noticed
this tremulous wave-motion before. A mile away
to windward a black line stretched across the lake.
Within the last few minutes it had approached
perceptibly nearer, and the crashing sounds had
increased alarmingly in volume. Harry Wylie
started out to investigate, and Mitchell, after a
moment's hesitation, followed him. A few minutes
later Mitchell with frightened eyes came flying
back a-slant the wind like a sea-gull.
"Travel, fellows the ice is breaking." With-
out stopping he threw his weight back against the
wind and, in a twinkling, shot away homeward on
the other tack, with the wind on the quarter which
he had found to be his swiftest. He was followed
by all the rest at their utmost speed. Dane, who
carried a tremendous spread of sail, shook out his
reef and shot after Mitchell like an Arctic owl in
pursuit of a flying hare.
Where 's Wylie ? he shouted, as his sail for
an instant blanketed Mitchell's.
"Coming! He told me to give the alarm," roared
Mitchell over his shoulder; there 's his light "
It was not his light, it was Rankin's; but they
had gone several miles
before it was discovered .
that Harry Wylie was'.' "-
"Where did you see
him last? Dane asked
sharply, when Mitchell ':
rounded to with the rest,
and stood with his sail '.;
pointed to the wind. : '
"Just beyond the
point. He was forty rods
away, and shouted down
the wind, to start you-
that the ice was going. I ,
was scared," he added,
honestly, "and lit out .
after you without delay."
"Perhaps he went
ashore," suggested Nat
He would n't have
done that, I know It 's
miles away from house
or road! Something has
happened to him," said
Rankin, with decision.
The wind, whistling
across the bleak and
desolate expanse, sang ..?-. .
shrilly a bitter song,
and white flakes shot
hissing past a group of
faces ashy pale. For
several moments no one
spoke. The dull thump-
ing, grinding, crashing,
as sullen waves gnawed
at the edges of the ice
and crushed it up by
acres,- using its frag-
ments as sledges with
which to beat down upon "SOON THE LONG NOTES OI
the rest,-echoed from
the shores, making the black plain beneath tremble.
We must n't stand here, or we shall be caught
by the water before we know it," said Lieutenant
Rankin finally, with a shudder at the thought.
"Start for home, boys; it 's the best we can do."
With heavy hearts the boys started, swung
around, and began to gather headway.
For a few rods they kept together. What each
one thought it is difficult to tell. What Edward
Dane thought was that Mitchell knew more than he
chose to tell; and his heart throbbed with wrathful
sorrow for his lost friend. If it was so if Mitchell
was the cause -. He did not finish even to him-
"- 'n :-~ f l'c~
A :. .I
THE BUGLE RANG OUT WILD AND SHRILL UPON THE NIGHT.
self, but his teeth set sternly, and a savage flash
came into his eye. There was reason. He remem-
bered the drill, the fire, and other less notable oc-
casions when the mill-owner's son had shown
enmity against Wylie.
Whatever he had determined to do, he was not
allowed time to carry out his plan, for before they
had gone a dozen rods Mitchell gave a great sweep
around, and shooting back toward the others, who
were somewhat to the rear, shouted as he passed:
"Good-bye, fellows I 'm going after Wylie."
The next instant they saw him darting away to
windward, the white flakes flashing from beneath
the steel as his skates ground into the ice, his lan-
tern streaming out horizontally from the yard;
and before the others had fairly comprehended
his intention, he was half a mile away.
Well, I 'm beat! "
And the rest agreed with Lieutenant Rankin.
I 'in going with him Dane cried, but Ran-
kin caught the end of the sail and held him.
"Don't be a fool, Dane. You can't do any
good; two are enough to lose. See, there! "
The snow had come; a dense, whirling cloud
that sifted into every unguarded seam and cranny,
and for very breath forced them to turn their
backs. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed as they
drove northward on the wings of the rushing
storm; no sound but the hissing of the sleet rat-
tling against the sails, the howling of the gale, the
gride of the irons on the ice.
Suddenly Nat Young, who was on the extreme
right, gave a great shout; he had caught sight of a
beam of light struggling through the snow. At the
instant, from somewhere in his direction, out leaped
the ringing notes of the bugle; they had nearly
passed the landing unawares, and as they turned
and learned their direction, leaning hard against
the wind, they gave long sighs of relief, and bore
up again for the welcome wharf.
Thank God It was the principal himself,
shaking their hands heartily, helping them up the
ladder, calling each by name.
"Are you all here?" A sad silence answered
him. It was so hard to say it! For a minute no
one spoke.' Then the principal asked again, in a
quick, suppressed voice:
"Rankin who is it?"
And the answer came so reluctantly:
Mitchell, and-Wylie "
There was something ominous in the joining of
those names; something ominous of treachery;
and through the crowd of students upon the wharf
swept a murmuring, which betrayed to the princi-
pal the fact that there had been trouble before
between the two. He drew Rankin aside and ques-
tioned him sharply until he had learned all that the
latter had to tell, both about the past troubles be-
tween the two students and the particulars of their
present disappearance. That Mitchell should go
back after Wylie seemed inexplicable, unless--
and it was a startling thought-he was in some
way responsible for Wylie's lingering, and had
repented when it was too late. Yet there was still
time for Mitchell to return, and when he came
there should be a clearing up of all this mystery.
Here, sir and the student sprang up from
a sheltered corner, where he had taken refuge
from the driving snow, and saluted.
Go out to the end of the wharf and wind a call
upon your bugle once a minute until further orders.
Use the higher notes, and take advantage of the
HE end of the wharf was a
particularly exposed place,
and the sleet was hissing
across it in horizontal lines,
y swept by the full force of the
blasts that came in quick
succession. There, if any-
where, could be felt the
throbbing pulse of the storm; but Blunt took
his bugle unquestioningly and departed without
The principal looked about him and selected
an athletic youth who stood near.
Lawton, run up to my library and get the
heaviest umbrella in the rack. Return as soon as
possible, and go down and shelter Blunt."
Lawton vanished, but reappeared, puffing, and
hurried on to join Blunt. Soon the long notes of
the bugle rang out wild and shrill upon the night;
an unearthly wail, piercingly keen, that cut across
the wind far out into the lake.
And that saving blast reached the ears of a
skater bewildered in the driving snow!
Again the bugle shrilled across the lake, seem-
ingly much louder than before. Lawton was now
beside Blunt, and the hollow umbrella threw out-
ward some of the sound, while shielding the bugler
and enabling him to blow the harder.
Down the wind, also, came the crashing of the
breaking ice; cake was grinding upon cake, tossing
in the heaving water, bursting apart as the heavy
swell rose and fell beneath the brittle plain. If the
skater was to reach the shore it must be soon!
And one of his skates was broken !
He was in great peril. The snow was an inch in
depth, a moving, clogging blanket on the ice. To
beat against the wind upon one foot was a very se-
vere test of skill. Still he did it, though but slowly.
Again and again he was for an instant overbal-
anced, and as often did he resume his battle with
the elements. The snow flew from before his feet,
and the sail, stiff with sleet, crackled at every mo-
tion. At last, raising his bowed head, he saw the
light from the great clock-tower shining mistily
above him. The same instant, the ice beneath
him trembled suddenly, and a loud crash came
with the wind. There was open water within a
furlong's distance !
On shore, under the lee of one of the buildings
near the wharf, a knot of boys were congregated:
with coat-collars turned up around their ears, and
hands in their pockets, they gazed outward. Edward
Dane was one of them. He felt bitter against Ran-
kin for preventing his return to search for Wylie.
I ought to have gone he kept repeating,
"I ought to have gone in spite of you! What
good would Mitchell do, if he found him ? What
did he go back for, anyway ? What was it to him
whether Harry came back or not ? I believe that he
was at the bottom of it all, and played Wylie some
scurvy trick that hindered him from following us,
and then was frightened at the result "
I acted for the best, Dane," said the lieuten-
ant, gloomily. ': I could see no advantage in your
going after him, and I see none now. You could do
no good, and as the ranking officer present I was
responsible for your safety. I could n't do other-
wise, under the circumstances."
Hang safety said Dane, hotly. "What good
is life to me, if I must know myself a coward to
the end of time, to pay for it? I 'd rather be under
the ice once for all, and done with it! "
The bugle sounded shrilly as he spoke, the weird
notes sending a shiver through them! Then a
heavy gust followed the lull, as though it were
some spirit of the storm summoned by the bugle-
blast, and they could feel the building rock before
it, snapping and cracking; and louder than all
came the crash of breaking ice, now startlingly
There was silence among the boys. The crowd
had melted away, for most of the students had
gone to their rooms, not caring to face the storm
longer, as they could not be of any use. At length
none remained save the skaters who had themselves
been in danger, the principal, who was walking up
and down in the lee of the building, Dr. McCarty,
who accompanied him, and the bugler with his
shield-bearer," who, steadfast at their posts, sent
out ringing notes at regular intervals.
Suddenly Dane sprang outward from the wall
and stood listening, with his hand to his ear.
For a moment there was perfect silence.
What is it? Nat Young ventured to remark.
"' I'm certain that I heard a shout,- there Did
you hear it ?"
They did, most distinctly, a cheery, boyish cry,
faintly pealing through the blinding snow.
With a common impulse the boys gave a hearty
cheer and rushed down the wharf to where the
bugler stood; Dane foremost, and half wild with
"I see him; it's Mitchell!" shouted Lawson,
thinking he recognized the form of the skater who
was leaning hard against the wind and rapidly
gliding shoreward, coated with a mail of sleet from
head to feet.
Dane gave a low cry expressive of both grief
Just let me get hold of him !" he said, as though
to himself; and the lieutenant, suddenly looking at
him, saw his hands nervously opening and closing
in a very suggestive manner. Stepping to his
side, the lieutenant gently passed an arm through
Dane's. It might not be safe for him to be left
to his own guidance for a few minutes.
The sail, meanwhile, kept steadily on, and in a
very few seconds its wearer glided in beside the
wharf. A dozen hands reached down to assist the
skater, and lifted him, sail and all, upon the solid
planks. But no one congratulated him, no one
shook his hand until the principal and Dr. McCarty,
hurrying as fast as possible, had nearly reached
the group, when Dane gave a loud cry, flung
Rankin backward as though he were but a child,
and, rushing forward, threw his arms around the
snow-encrusted neck. It 's Wylie! "
Of course said that individual, wonderingly;
"who did you think I was? "
My dear boy and the principal grasped him
warmly by the hand, while a rousing cheer went
up from the rest.
We had given you up for lost."
"I was n't far from it, sir," Harry answered
with a laugh and a shiver, as the boys crowded
around him with hearty words of welcome. And
as though to confirm his words, even as he spoke
the ice close to the wharf broke asunder with a
loud explosion that went crashing and echoing
along the shores from point to point; and the rush
and splash of rolling waves followed, mingled with
the grinding of the ice-floes one against another.
That will do, Blunt," said the principal to the
bugler, who, still obeying orders, was preparing to
give another blast.
Wylie, where did you last see Mitchell ?"
Down below Echo Point, sir! said Wylie,
instantly comprehending that there was another
missing boy. I saw the ice was breaking up and
shouted to him to give the alarm and saw him do
so. Then I started toward home, and was making
a long reach toward the other side of the lake,
when the squall came and I broke my skate. I
did not see him after we started homeward."
"He went back after you, they tell me," said
the principal in a low tone.
After me ? and there was a break in his voice
as he thought of what, he knew too well, had
befallen the missing one. I did not see him,
sir," he said again; and without another word the
principal turned away and silently departed toward
the Institute, sheltered from the driving snow by
the umbrella which Lawton thoughtfully held
against the storm, although the preceptor seemed
utterly unconscious of it. The students followed
him, depressed and sad. Mitchell had not been
intimate with any of them. Many would have
been glad to hear of his dismissal. But now--
As the students gained the summit of the bluff
and turned for a last glimpse at the lake, now
visible in white flashes, Rankin laid his hand on
Dane's shoulder, while he stood clinging to Harry's
"We were mistaken, Sergeant; we owe that
much to his memory "-; and Dane understood.
I admit it, Lieutenant, and I am sorry I mis-
judged him," he said, clearly, that the others
might hear. "He was the one hero among us.
If ever he comes back I shall tell him so "
And that was Mitchell's requiem. When, a
week later, the storm was over, and the sun shone
brightly again upon a glassy plain; when again
the glittering steel carved magic' runes upon the
surface, and white sails darted swiftly here and
there, some skaters found, miles away from shore,
a bamboo mast and yard frozen in the ice, with the
tattered sail still attached to it. They also found a
glove, trimmed with dainty fur. But the owner
had gone where there was neither malice, nor hate,
nor envy, nor misrepresentation.
The boys carefully cut out the wreck from the
brittle ice, and bore it homeward-reverently, as
they would have borne the arms of some dead sol-
dier,- and placed it, dripping, on the vacant desk
within the chapel. And there were tears in the
eyes of boys, to whom tears had been for years
unknown, when the first-sergeant, in calling the
roll before prayers, inadvertently called the name
of Mitchell, and the boy nearest to the desk an-
Not here !"
THREE MONTHS LA TER.
TRAMP! tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp !
tramp! tramp came the rhythmic beat of feet
along the drill-hall floor. A hundred boys in dark
blue uniforms and round caps without visors, were
marching with steady step toward the lower end
of the hall; they were broad-shouldered and ath-
letic, red-cheeked and bright-eyed, and straight
Around their waists were belts from which hung
quivers. From the round-mouthed quivers peeped
the many-colored feathers of the arrows. The
light from the windows fell upon long lines of
richly polished bows at shoulder-shift, that rose
and fell, rose and fell, in steady unison with the
tramping feet below.
Far down at the distant end of the hall a row of
gayly painted targets reached across the building
from side to side, each a foot in width, and with a
number painted on a square above it. The light
from a window fell across the row, making the
targets show distinctly.
* "To the rear"-and still the boys swept on-
ward, as though unheeding.
March!" At the word, each form wheeled as
though upon a pivot, and the ranks were marching
back whence they came.
Down came the upraised feet with a single beat,
and the ranks were motionless.
"Brace "- out went each right foot, twenty-eight
inches forward -" bows!"
Each bow was placed with the tip against the
instep of the advanced foot, held with the right
hand by the middle, with the arc convex toward
the owner, while the fingers of the left hand pushed
the loop of the cord, at the upper end, upward and
away. With a single movement, pulling with one
hand and pushing with the other, the bow was
strung. Back sprang the feet to line.
"Draw"-each hand in the front rank flew to
a quiver,- shafts The flashing shafts were
placed upon the strings, held by the fingers of the
right hand, the tips of the first and second fingers
being hooked beneath the cord with the arrow
nock between them.
Square away "
The front rank came to right-face, except their
heads, which still remained with faces toward the
distant targets. Wylie, who had been giving the
orders (Captain Wylie now), stepped swiftly to one
end of the line.
"Raise -bows! Up went the bow-arms of
the front rank, the eyes of each fixed upon his own
particular target, which seemed so small and round,
and so very far away. And as the bows rose, the
right hands drew the cords backward, slowly,
steadily, until the feathers of the arrows touched
the chins, and the arrow-heads touched the knuck-
les of the left hands. Watchfully the captain
glanced along the line, and when the rising arms
ceased their movement and were motionless, at the
instant sharply came the order:
Tsang-g-g-g! With sudden melody of twang-
ing cords, the winged arrows flew down the hall
like glancing rays of light. Back to the listening
ears came a pattering sound like the distant rattle
of hailstones on the roof, and the canvas curtain
behind the targets swayed and shook beneath the
blows of arrows which had missed.
Draw shafts! "
And the practice went on until ten flights of
arrows had been sent hissing on their way.
Front- face! At the command the front
rank wheeled themselves around until they stood
once more facing the targets.
Unbrace "- out went the right feet again -
"bows!" and in the same manner as they had
been braced, the loops of the cords were slipped
from the nocks and the bows sprang back, scarcely
bent from their former straightness.
"Shoulder arms! Forward march !"
The ranks moved onward to the other end of the
hall. The second rank halted, wheeled about, and
in their turn took up the practice at the targets
near the end of the hall whence they had just
come, while the first rank gathered their arrows
from curtain and cushions on the padded floor,
and the sergeants and corporals recorded the values
of the hits which had been made upon each target,
crediting the total to the archer who had that disc
assigned to him.
How are you nowadays, Dane? asked Harry
Wylie, struck by the alert and animated air of his
fellow-officer, as his friend came toward him grasp-
ing a handful of arrows. Dane was a lieutenant
now, but all the officers practiced except the officer
of the day.
"'Excellent well,'my lord!" and Dane laughed
with satisfaction. "The Doctor examined me to-
day, and I'm three inches larger around the chest
than I was three months ago, and my biceps looks
like a blacksmith's. I 'm up among the nineties
in the class-rank, too! -we '11 make things howl
when we get to college "
Corporal of the guard, number five! sud-
denly rang loud and clear above the noise and
hum of voices, and the individual thus summoned
caught up his quarter-staff impatiently and went
out, wondering who was the intruder this time.
The village rowdies sometimes made trouble.
Dane, Wylie, Rankin, and Nat Young were dis-
cussing some item of importance in a corner, when
they were made aware of something unusual taking
place about the door. The boys were crowding like
swarming bees about the entrance, and eager voices
were shouting lustily. The excitement culminated
in one prolonged, hearty cheer. The officers strolled
toward the door, inspired by a mild curiosity,
when Dane, who was taller than the average, gave
a violent start, rubbed his eyes, looked again, then
with an excited shout darted forward into the crowd,
which he unceremoniously elbowed right and left.
But quick as he was, Harry Wylie was before him.
The crowd gave way, as by magic, before the epau-
lets. In the center of the ring stood a boy, pale
as from a long illness, thin to emaciation, his hands
almost transparent, and on one cheek a great scar,
running up across the temple and ending in the
closely cropped hair. As he saw Wylie bursting
through the ring, he raised one hand with a half
timid, deprecatory gesture, and it trembled visibly.
For an instant Harry stopped and looked at
the new-comer with the look that one would have
when meeting some great mystery-some presence
from another world than ours. Then with a spring
he threw his arms around the other's neck, and
again a mighty cheer burst from the crowd of
excited boys, a cheer that this time found voice
and name together:
Mitchell,- and all 's well! "
And Wylie and Mitchell stood there, looking into
each other's eyes; the one mutely asking forgive-
ness, the other filled with gratitude toward the one
who had gone back into the face of death for his
sake and had thus made amends for the past; stood
there until the excitable Dane threw his long arms
around them both and sealed a friendship that the
three have never broken.
How Mitchell escaped, he could not tell. A
hunter had found him wandering in the storm
more than twenty miles from the lake, and in a
forest. There was nothing about him to disclose
his identity, and a terrible wound had for a space
set his reason astray. The deep snows had shut out
all access to the busy world, before he rose from his
bed again. It did not matter. He did not care to
know all that had happened. It was enough that
he had left his old self behind him, and that his
better nature had at last gained the mastery in
spite of years of injudicious training.
Here we will leave them. The new drill was a per-
manent success. The boys who went out from Wild
Lake Institute, in after days, in college and in life
took even higher rank than their predecessors, and
they carried with them no bowed forms, pale
cheeks, or hollow chests. Each day was to them a
luxury, and life was to them no less a pleasure than
a duty; while, as Dane once remarked, in a mo-
ment of confidence, Christianity seemed to come
more easily to them. A perfectly sound man is not
a good subject for temptation.
BY ISAAC HERR.
" RED and purple Morning-glories,
Lightly swaying in the breeze,
You seem filled with fairy stories;
Won't you tell them to me, please?"
" Little maid, we have no stories,
True or fairy, new or old.
We 're but laughing morning-glories
For your pretty hands to hold "
PIG THAT REALLY CAUSED A WAR.
BY WILLIS J. ABBOT.
THAT a pig nearly
caused a war," as
Julian Ralph told us
in the March number
of ST., NICHOLAS, is
enough, but people
well versed in the his-
S. tory of the United States
can go even one step far-
ther and declare that once a
pig really caused a war. And
.. the war brought on by the in-
S defensible proceedings of the pig
was that great conflict in 1812 which
S assured to the United States the inde-
S pendence which had been won in the war
of the Revolution.
It all happened in this wise: Two citizens
of Providence, R. I., fell into a most un-
seemly discussion on account of the lawless
trespassing of a pig owned by one of them.
The aggrieved party possessed a very fine
garden, in which it was his custom to spend his
hours of leisure, weeding, grafting, and transplant-
ing the flowers and vegetables in which he de-
lighted. But often, as he entered his garden in
the evening, his ears would be saluted with a grunt
and a rustle, and the fat form of his neighbor's
pig might be seen making a hasty flight from the
garden in which it had been placidly rooting all day.
In high dudgeon the gardener sought his neigh-
bor and complained of the pig's frequent visits,
declaring that a little time spent in repairing the
pig-sty would restrain the animal's roving propen-
sities. But to this the owner of the pig responded
that if his neighbor would keep his rickety fences
in proper repair, the pig might take its daily air-
ing without temptation, and the garden would not
Repeated misdeeds on the part of the pig fanned
the smoldering fires of dissension into the flames
of open hostility. At last the crisis came. The
owner of the garden, rising unusually early one
morning, discovered the pig contentedly munching
the last of a fine bed of tulip-bulbs. Flesh and
blood could stand it no longer. Seizing a pitch-
fork which lay near at hand, the outraged gar-
dener plunged its sharp tines into the hapless pig,
and bore the body, thus fatally impaled, to the sty,
where it met the gaze of its owner an hour or two
later. Thereafter it was war to the knife between
the two neighbors.
Now, what had all this to do with the war of
1812? The answer is simple. The two neighbors
belonged to the political party known as the
Through all the outrages that Great Britain
inflicted upon the United States: while seamen
were being impressed, American vessels stopped
on the high seas, and while every possible indig-
nity was being committed against the flag of the
United States, the Federalists remained friendly
to Great Britain, and contested every proposition
for the declaration of war.
But the Democratic party was eager for war,
and as British oppression became more unbearable
the strength of the Democrats increased. It so
happened that the election district in which the
two neighbors lived had been about equally divided
between Democrats and Federalists, but the latter
A PIG THAT REALLY CAUSED A WAR.
party had always succeeded in carrying the election.
But in 1811 the owner of the garden was a can-
didate for the legislature on the Federalist ticket.
His neighbor had always voted that ticket; but
now, with his mind filled with the bitter recollection
of the death of his pig, he cast his ballot for the
Democrat. When the ballots were -counted the
Democrat was found to be elected by a majority
When the newly elected legislator took his seat,
his first duty was to vote for a United States Sena-
tor. He cast his vote for the candidate of the
Democrats, who was also elected by a majority of
one. When this senator took his place in the
United States Senate he found the question of war
with Great Britain pending, and after a long and
bitter discussion it came to a vote. The Democrats
voted for war, and the Federalists against it. As
a result of the voting, war was declared-again
by a majority of one vote.
The war that followed gave to American naval
history the names of Lawrence, Perry, Porter, Hull,
and Bainbridge. It is one of the most glorious
chapters in our national annals. And in view
of the facts thus briefly recounted, it does not
seem to be wholly whimsical to trace its origin to
the quarrel between the two citizens of Providence
over the wandering pig.
r---- ---~ ----- 14
I I al
,', ~~'-, -- 1 .... ,
. < 1,7
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
[CAESAR RODNEY, of Dover, served in the Continental Congress as delegate from the three "Counties upon Delaware," as they were
then termed. After the Declaration of Independence these counties received the name of the Delaware State," and, in 1792, their
present official title of the State of Delaware."]
IN that soft mid-land where the breezes bear
The north and the south on the genial air,
Through the county of Kent, on affairs of
Rode Caesar Rodney, the delegate.
Burly and big, and bold and bluff,
In his three-cornered hat and his suit of snuff,
A foe to King George and the English state
Was Caesar Rodney, the delegate.
Into Dover village he rode apace,
And his kinsfolk knew, from his anxious face,
It was matter grave that had brought him
To the counties three upon Delaware.
" Money and men we must have," he said,
" Or the Congress fails and our cause is dead.
Give us both and the king shall not work his
We are MEN, since the blood of Bunker Hill! "
Comes a rider swift on a panting bay:
" Holo Rodney, ho you must save the day,
For the Congress halts at a deed so great,
And your vote alone may decide its fate "
Answered Rodney then: "I will ride with speed;
It is Liberty's stress; it is Freedom's need.
When stands it?" "To-night. Not a moment
But ride like the wind, from the Delaware."
" Ho, saddle the black I 've but half a day,
And the Congress sits eighty miles away,-
But I '11 be in time, if God grants me grace,
To shake my fist in King George's face."
He is up; he is off! and the black horse flies
On the northward road ere the God-speed "
It is gallop and spur, as the leagues they clear,
And the clustering mile-stones move a-rear.
It is two of the clock; and the fleet hoofs fling
The Fieldsboro' dust with a clang and cling.
It is three; and he gallops with slack rein where
The road winds down to the Delaware.
Four; and he spurs into Newcastle town.
From his panting steed he gets him down-
' A fresh one, quick; not a moment's wait! "
And off speeds Rodney the delegate.
It is five; and the beams of the western sun
Tinge the spires of Wilmington, gold and dun;
Six; and the dust of the Chester street
Flies back in a cloud from his courser's feet.
It is seven; the horse-boat, broad of beam,
At the Schuylkill ferry crawls over the stream -
And at seven-fifteen by the Rittenhouse clock
He flings his rein to the tavern Jock.
The Congress is met; the debate 's begun,
And Liberty lags for the vote of one -
When into the Hall, not a moment late,
Walks Casar Rodney, the delegate.
Not a moment late and that half-day's ride
Forwards the world with a mighty stride: -
For the Act was passed, ere the midnight
O'er the Quaker City its echoes woke.
At Tyranny's feet was the gauntlet flung;
" We are free !" all the bells through the colonies rung.
And the sons of the free may recall with pride
The day of delegate Rodney's ride.
BY I. ABERT JOHNSON. A CGr 'J.'.i -.
S4 N/- 1 NSIDE the
extensive grounds and surrounded by a high brick
wall. This is the United States Naval Academy.
As most schoolboys know, the city of Annapolis
lies upon the banks of that beautiful river, the Sev-
ern, two miles from its junction with the waters of
It is at the Naval Academy that boys who are
over the age of fifteen, and who have successfully
passed the necessary mental and physical exam-
inations, learn to become midshipmen.
Strictly speaking, there is no such person as a
midshipman in the service of the United States.
Possibly the boy readers of Marryat and Cooper
can scarcely credit the existence of a navy without
"middies"; but still it is a fact that for the past
ten years the rank of midshipman has given place
to that of naval cadet.
The United States Naval Academy was estab-
lished in 1845, during the administration of Presi-
dent Polk, for the education of what are termed
"line" officers of the navy.
The line-officers of the navy are those who per-
form the legitimate military duties of the navy as
opposed to those who perform the non-combatant
but equally necessary duties, such as doctors, pay-
masters, engineers, and chaplains. These latter
are known as staff" officers, and are not edu-
cated at the Naval Academy, but are appointed
from civil life.
When, some years ago, steam-vessels came int,
use as ships of war, it became necessary that the
naval engineer should be something more than a
mere engine-driver. The conditions of the service
made it imperative for him to be an able, scientific,
and practical engineer. For this purpose a thor-
ough education in his special line was necessary;
and those intending to be engineers were admitted
as students for a two-years' course in the Naval
Academy. Their training was, of course, alto-
gether different from that of the midshipmen, and
so the students were divided into cadet-engineers
After a few years it was decided to make the
courses of study the same length for both engi-
neers and midshipmen, and all the students were
designated by the same general title, being called
The length of the course at the Naval Academy
is four years. A candidate for admission must
first obtain permission from home to enter the lists
in a competitive examination for an appointment
to be given by the Congressman from his district.
If successful in this examination, he receives a
permit to appear before the examining board at
Annapolis, and this board determines upon his
as to mental attainments, he receives his appoint- In fact, however, their appearance is anything
ment and becomes a naval cadet They strut about in a consequential
.- M..1r` '- .....
qualifications for an appointment as naval cadet, on leave," the successful candidates, or plebes,"
the older cadets .ar all absent from th a cademy at ease, and certainly not succe ding.
the older cadets are al! absent from the academy at ease, and certainly not succeeding.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
i~c CI r
17- j .
AN AWKWARD SQUAD.
The plebes, or "youngsters" (as they are also
called), are at once quartered on board a large,
old-fashioned wooden frigate, which always lies
alongside the dock, and does duty during the
school-sessions as a gunnery ship.
This vessel becomes the residence of the plebes
during the summer months; here they have their
first experience of sailor life; and here, among
other things, they first acquire the art of sleep-
ing in a hammock. It is truly an edifying sight
to see these lads, on their first night, struggling
with their hammocks. The hammocks used in
the navy, you must bear in mind, are very un-
like those in which people swing under the trees
-ON SUNDAY MORNING THE ENTIRE BATTALION OF CADETS, IN FULL-DRESS UNIFORM IS INSPECTED BY THE COMMANDANT.
"'ON SUNDAY MORNING THE ENTIRE BATTALION OF CAhDTS, IN FULL DRESS UNWFORN(, IS INSPECTED BY THE COMMAlNDANT.'
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
in the country. The navy hammocks are made
of heavy canvas, and are slung from the beams of
the ship. They are usually hung quite high from
the deck, so that it is not easy for a beginner to
climb into one with any degree of grace,- even if
he manages to get in at all. Usually the novice
struggles in from one side, and goes head over
heels out at the other mattress, pillows, and bed-
clothes, all accompanying him. After two or
three unsuccessful attempts of this sort, however,
the greenest begins to improve, and one or two
weeks of practice is sufficient to make any one an
academy, and the regular academic year com-
mences. The lads of the lowest or fourth class,
who have been spending the summer on board
ship, are quartered, together with the more recent
arrivals, in the main building of the cadets' quar-
ters, and are assigned to rooms on the top floor.
The whole body of cadets is now organized into
four divisions, containing an equal number of gun-
crews consisting of sixteen men, taken from each
of the four classes. There are a first and a sec-
ond captain to each gun-crew; they are under
the supervision of the commanding officers of the
IN THE MESS HALL.
adept in the art. The days are spent in drills and
exercises of all sorts, and are somewhat of a
preparation for those in which the cadets will
have to take part during the academic year. Theo-
retical instruction, also, in the studies they will take
up during their first year, is given in small doses.
In September another set of cadets is appointed.
These form the remainder of the fourth class, and
although both the June and September new-
comers are members of the same class, the June
arrivals are rather inclined to make much of their
seniority over the Seps," as the later comers are
termed. During the latter part of September the
older cadets return from their summer cruises;
those that have been on leave come back to the
divisions, who are called cadet-lieutenants. The
whole battalion is under command of the Cadet-
These cadet officers are appointed from the first
and second classes, the highest in rank being ap-
pointed from the first class: and, as a rule, they
are looked upon by the "youngsters with a re-
spect amounting nearly to awe.
The daily routine of the school during the greater
part of the year is as follows: Reveille, at 6 A. M.
in the fall and spring months, and fifteen minutes
later in the winter. Then follows breakfast for-
mation," with inspection, and reading of the report
of conduct for the day preceding. Before break-
fast, prayers are offered by the chaplain. The day
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
is divided into three periods of two hours each,
two periods occupying the forenoon. The third,
or afternoon, period ends at four o'clock. In favor-
able weather a drill takes place after the third
period, and lasts until about half-past five. At 6
P. M. comes supper, after which the time until 7:30
is spent in recreation. At that hour the bugle-
call sounds for evening study-hour. This lasts
until 9:30; and during this time all cadets are
required to be in their rooms, and are supposed to
be studying. At ten o'clock taps are sounded,
when lights must be put out, and all must be in
bed. As Saturday is a half-holiday, only the fore-
noon is devoted to work, there being two hours
of recitations and two spent in drills. The after-
noon is given up to recreation.
A limited number of the cadets are allowed to
visit the city, but must not remain later than sup-
per-time. No one can enjoy this privilege whose
average mark in any study for the week previous
is unsatisfactory, or who has more than a certain
specified number of demerits for the preceding
month. On Sunday, of course, there are no reci-
tations. In the morning, about ten o'clock, the
entire battalion of cadets, in full-dress uniform, is
inspected by the commandant, after which the
cadets are marched to the chapel to attend divine
service. Those who desire to attend a church
outside of the academy can do so by obtaining
special permission from the commandant; so, al-
though all are required to engage in some form of
religious worship, each cadet is at liberty to choose
that which he prefers.
As soon as a cadet is admitted into the academy,
an allowance of five hundred dollars a year is
credited to him; but no cadet is allowed to draw
from the paymaster for spending money more than
a dollar a month. As cadets are not permitted to
receive money from outside, you will see that they
can not form very extravagant habits.
Each day certain cadets are detailed for duty.
The officer of the day is taken from the first class,
and superintendents of each floor are selected from
each of the four classes. The officer of the day
has general charge of the building, and the super-
intendents are responsible for the observance of
the regulations on their respective floors. They
are required to make frequent inspections during
the day, and to send in a written report of all de-
linquencies at the expiration of their tour of duty.
Each room in the dormitory is occupied by two
cadets. One of these is always responsible for the
orderly condition of the room, each cadet taking
his turn in thus acting as superintendent. The
rooms are inspected every morning by the officer
in charge. At this inspection the floors must have
been thoroughly swept; the beds must be neatly
made up; shoes carefully placed in a line under
the foot of the bed, and the interiors of wardrobes
neatly arranged. Any delinquency is reported;
so you will see that if naval officers are not men
who keep things in perfect order, with a place for
everything, and everything in its place, the blame
should not be laid to their training in the naval
The cadets' rooms are furnished with necessary
articles only. The boys, unlike most college stu-
dents, are not allowed to exercise their taste in
attractively decorating their apartments; they are
not permitted even to hang pictures on the walls;
and the only place available for the exhibition of
anything pictorial is upon the inside surface of the
wardrobe-door. This may appear too strict a rule;
but if the cadets were allowed to indulge their
_____-. I .--
_I i i '
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
tastes for decoration, those who had money would
be likely to have elaborately furnished apartments,
while their poorer companions would be obliged
to forego that pleasure. This might lead to envy,
and differences of a disagreeable character might
have frequently done most efficient work in the
city of Annapolis, where the appliances for fight-
ing fires were of the most primitive sort.
The cadets are good dancers, and occasional
"hops" are among the recreations allowed. The
P'~~j~lb~ ).: I ;-IIf-
;Ig~ __? (- --
FIRST-CLASS MEN TAKING MERIDIAN ALTITUDE OF THE SUN, ON THE PRACTICE CRUISE.
-occur, which would be hardly compatible with the
general contentment which it is desirable to encour-
age. The cadets, in addition to their other duties,
also receive instruction in gymnastic exercises,
boxing, dancing, and swimming; and everything
is done to encourage athletic sports such as base-
ball, football, and boating. Once every year they
give what is termed a "tournament." This is
a performance in the gymnasium, and is usually
witnessed by a number of visitors from outside,
and by the officers attached to the Academy,
and their families. The "tournament comprises
gymnastic exercises, fencing, boxing, and the like.
It is usually a highly creditable affair, both to the
cadets and to their instructors.
As at all military or naval posts, every precau-
tion is taken to guard against fire. The cadets
have a special drill, called "fire-quarters," in which
the whole battalion is organized into a fire-brigade,
there being in the Academy a steam fire-engine
and hose-carriages. At these drills the fire-bell is
sounded, as if there were an actual alarm, and
each cadet goes at once to his station. In the
capacity of firemen, the students of the Academy
principal hops of the season are, one in January,
given by the first class; and one in June, given by
the second class as a farewell to the graduates. At
both of these hops, which are given in the gymna-
sium, great skill is shown in decorating the build-
ing with flags and flowers. The combination of
these, with brilliant uniforms, happy faces, pretty
girls, and charming music, makes a scene long to
Every summer the first and third classes of
cadets are sent on what is called the "practice
cruise." The cadet-midshipmen are sent on board
of a sailing vessel, and the cadet-engineers on a
steamer. The sailing vessel is manned principally
by the cadets. They are regularly stationed, like
a ship's company,-the first class as petty-officers
and seamen, the third class as ordinary seamen
and landsmen. This cruise, in addition to the
seamanship drills at the Academy, enables a
cadet to become thoroughly familiar with all the
duties of the sailor. He learns to heave the lead,
steer the ship, reef and furl the sails, and, in fact,
to perform every task which falls to a Jack tar.
The practice cruise thus gives a thorough school-
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
ing in practical navigation,-the cadets being
required each day, when at sea, to report the ship's
.position, and, when in port, to perform duties
similar to those devolving upon a navigating
officer. Each member of the first class is also
made to practice as officer of the deck, and
each has to take his turn in handling the ship
in different maneuvers, such as tacking, wear-
ing, getting under way, coming to anchor, and
so on. Such a cruise really gives the young
sailors more practical experience than they can
possibly get later, even during two or three years'
experience in the service.
No description of the Naval Academy would be
complete without an attempt to convey some idea
of the numerous peculiar words and phrases used
by the cadets. They never speak, for instance, of
studying; they call it "boning." A cadet who is
dismissed is said to have been "bilged." Exami-
nations are "exams."; unsatisfactory is "unsat.";
and there is a long list of briny abbreviations used
in expressing their sentiments, most of them
and sometimes these names are very expressive,
and strongly suggestive of the little peculiarities of
Four years slip by rapidly, and at last the great
day of graduation arrives. The graduating exer-
cises take place in the month of June, in the pres-
ence of a board of official visitors appointed by the
Secretary of the Navy; and there are also non-
official visitors, the relatives and friends of the
cadets. This is a time of intense excitement to all
interested, and is a period of great mental and
physical strain upon the student, for exami-
nations at the Naval Academy are not "child's
play "; they are something more than mere for-
malities. On the day of graduation the diplomas
are presented to the graduates in presence of the
whole battalion of cadets and the officers of the in-
stitution, at which time an address to the graduat-
ing class is delivered by a member of the Board of
Visitors. This exercise ends the academic year;
from that time the school ceases active operations
till the school year again begins, in the fall term.
::; -. ,, *L4t
I -o: ~~~ztt-:t1I
.- - - -
1 w I -
I. *; I~ r:ia* .--------- -
A SHAM FIGHT. LANDING THE FORCES.
hardly intelligible to an outsider. When, there- Of course, four years of boy-life like that passed
fore, you hear a cadet speak of "making fast" within the walls of the Academy must witness many
his shoe-strings, you must know that he simply pranks and escapades on the part of the young
means tying them. There is not an officer or students. Let me, in closing, give you an account
professor who is not nicknamed by the students; of one of these.
- --- ---- ---~---
-* ;- .
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
and New Year's Day
the Annapolis Ex-
press is busy in de-
livering numerous -- -.
boxes at the Acad- II i .
emy; boxes are sent I
to the cadets from -'
their homes, and, as
a rule, contain all
sorts of good things to
eat. The larger the 'ill '
box the more does
the recipient gain in
his classmates, as all -
whom the fortunate j
cadet includes among
his circle of friends i
expect to come in for- -
a share of the good -
things. Now, as a :
matter of course, ;.
a nice, well-behaved
" young gentleman,"
who observes the reg-
ulations (as all i
should do), and is
rather averse to lay- 4
ing up for himself a '4 ..- J
store of demerits, L-' "-- -'
will revel, with his
boon companions, in
the delicious feast
during the hours of
things are allowable. .
Not so, however, his '
possesses a taste for SEAMAN:
the somewhat highly
spiced incidents connected with Academy life. He
will gather his chosen companions around him at
the hour of midnight, and then, in the dead
waste and middle of the night," will they gorge
themselves with the rich dainties. But woe betide
those daring law-breakers should the officer-in-
charge happen to enter the room during one of
the special night inspections in which he now and
then finds it his duty to indulge.
One cold night, about Christmas time, a large
and inviting-looking box was discovered in a room
that shall here be numberless. It wore an expres-
sion indicative of a most passionate longing to
have its contents devoured. The occupants of the
room and joint-owners of the precious box agreed
SHIP DRILL. ALOFT ON TE FORECAST.
SHIP DRILL. ALOFT ON THE FOREMAST.
to gather together a few genial and appreciative
souls after taps," and then do justice to the
Informing the other young gentlemen interested
of their intention, at ten o'clock inspection all
were found properly nestled in their beds and
apparently asleep. Allowing ample time for the
completion of the inspection, and for all well-
regulated officers-in-charge to have retired, these
wily tars suddenly awoke, and very stealthily the
invited guests trooped into the room. They then
proceeded in rather a burglar-like manner to open
the chest containing the hidden treasures. First
came two large turkeys, beautifully roasted; then
quails, with delicious jelly, fruit, nuts, cakes, and
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
AN ACADEMY HOP.
so on through the list of articles to be found in
every well-filled Christmas box.
The company set to work with vigor, and in
a short time were deep in gastronomic bliss.
Suddenly was heard in the adjoining corridor
the tramp of feet and the sounds produced by the
clanking of a sword. There was no uncertainty as
to the significance of this ominous warning. The
boys knew that the officer-in-charge, having for
some reason become suspicious, had directed his
steps to this particular room. There was no time
for deliberation--the efficient naval officer must
learn to be prepared for all emergencies! Such
visitors must find hiding-places, and they disposed
themselves in this manner: One in each ward-
robe, one under each bed, while the fifth crouched
in the fire-place, concealing himself with the fire-
board; the sixth and last luckless youth, finding
no unoccupied place in the room, lowered himself
out of the window, and found a resting-place for
his feet on the capstone of the window below,
steadying himself by clinging to the window-sill.
In this way, by pulling down the shade in front of
him, he managed to be completely hidden from the
view of any one in the room. The two occupants
of the room were in their beds in a twinkling,
snoring vigorously. Rap! rap! rap at the door;
no answer. Thereupon, in walks the officer-in-
charge. The snores increased in quantity and
quality of tone. Mr. Blank," says the officer-in-
charge; but that gentleman is so deeply wrapt in
innocent and peaceful slumbers that the summons
fails to arouse him. The officer-in-charge sees and
smells evidences of the feast; and, having been
a happy student himself, proceeds to investigate
in a most thorough manner. Opening the ward-
robe doors, he brings forth the temporary occupants
of those pieces of furniture, now decidedly crest-
fallen and meek similarly he discovers those hid-
den under the bed and in the fire-place.
So the five bon-tiivants are summarily disposed
of; but do not let us forget the unfortunate sixth
member, who all this time has been hanging out-
side the window, scantily costumed in a night-shirt.
You will remember that all this happened on a
bitterly cold winter night. A fur-lined overcoat
would be none too warm on such a night. What,
then, must be the suffering that this scantily clad
cadet is undergoing? It is truly terrible to con-
template. How sincerely is he bemoaning his fate,
and how earnestly he regrets having left his warm
bed; how firmly does he resolve never to risk it
again, even should it be to taste of a repast a hun-
dred times finer! The officer-in-charge, leaving
the room, has just closed the door, and our hero,
with a deeply sincere sigh of thanksgiving, is about
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE NAVAL ACADEMY.
to draw his stiffened limbs and body inside the mar
room again, comforting himself with the one mor- nec'
sel of consolation, that he at least has escaped met
detection. But, alas!-misfortune does not yet T
relinquish her hold on him. Walking along the entt
street below the ill-fated window, is the Command- ven
ant of Cadets, muffled up in his warm overcoat. nan
His eye is suddenly attracted by an object on effo
the outside of the building, and as he approaches cha
nearer, he puzzles his head to find out what it per
can possibly be. Just as he is almost under the Th
window, he sees indications that this white and rea'
apparently inanimate thing is about to put itself me
in motion. Then does he fully appreciate what rep
this specter-like apparition is, and exclaims, nig
"What are you doing out there, sir, at this time the
of night and in that disgraceful costume ? Get in at and
once, and report yourself to the officer-in-charge woe
Just at this juncture the officer-in-charge comes out tort
of the building, meeting the Commandant, who rea
directs his attention to the offender. Mr.- sto]
go up to that room and see if that young gentle- reli
lt/ / .- '..,
i .,; -=-~- -- W./ .!-- -'-
1 has developed symptoms of insanity, and, if
essary, have him placed under medical treat-
'he officer-in-charge, promptly obeying, again
ers the room, finds the apparently insane ad-
turer cold, shivering, and repentant, takes his
ne and orders him to his room, making a great
rt to keep a straight face. The officer-in-
rge, feeling that now he has conscientiously
formed his duty, turns in" for the night.
e next morning, when the offenders' names are
d from the conduct report, they excite no com-
nt, until the officer reads the name of one
orted for "hanging out of window, dressed in
ht-shirt, at 12:35 A. M." Then the gravity of
battalion is on the very verge of dissolution,
i our hero, standing in the ranks, with a most
h-begone countenance, suffering from all the
:ures of acute influenza, is brought to a full
lization of the fact that the old adage about
len fruit being the sweetest is not always to be
N t, I" ."-.~
'-ti;' ,.- __ "
'. = ., :
.. .-. 't'a""' ;'-._.: '
'K ~ rrriE~~ > -T
GRADUATES LEAVING ANNAPOLIS.
SUMMER HOMES FOR THE ANIMALS.
BY ROBERT U. JOHNSON.
IT seems to me, if I were a frog,
I 'd like a summer home at Cutchogue;
Cut-chogue C Ct- Cut-chogue C(ut-
Oh, I 'd jump at a water-front at Cutchogue.
And then how nice, if I were a chicken,
'T would be to live on the Wissahickon;
Wissee-see-kick'n Wissee-see-kick'n !
'T would be cheaf--cheaf-cheaf on the Wissa-
And if I were a dog, in search of some flowery
Dogwood resort, I 'd resort to the Bowery,
And, whether the weather were dry or showery,
My bark would glide through its Bow-wow-
Er-r-r-r- wow er-r-r-r- wow er- WOW wow -
If I were a colt with a wheezy whinny
Or a racking pain, I 'd visit Virginny,
And if by marauders my gate should be broken,
For a colt's revolver I 'd send to Hoboken.
No whinny sounds tinny in ole Virginny.
And every year, if I were a rabbit,
I'd go to Newboro' by force of habit;
How softly my rablets would purr when folks pet us,
And murmur, when asked to go dining,-" Oh i
'T would be so like New Early York-(begging
your pardon !
Of course I mean Early New York) -if they'd
Go out in the evenings to nibble O-'s garden.
If I were a cock o' the walk, I 'd ride
From end to end of the railroad guide,
And I 'd sing with the car wheels (allegro, not
Tutck-tuck-in-the-ticket-that-takes-to- Chi-CA-go !
('T is an irony sound, when you can not so far go);
FOR THEIR COUNTRY'S SAKE.
BY MRS. C. EMMA CHENEY.
WELL, I call Homburg a pretty stupid place,"
said Harry, shutting his book with a vindictive
"So it is, for five days in the week," replied
Walter; but the sixth is all the jollier for that."
"We need to stretch our tongues and rest our
tired jaws once in a while," little Phil chimed in.
" Why my mind really aches with thinking nothing
but German, from Monday morning till Friday
"Why don't you think in English, then?"
Nonsense!" answered his brother. "You
ought to know that a fellow can't think in one
language and speak in another. I'm a thorough
German in school hours, 'sauerkraut' and all."
But, Harry, we are Americans all the rest of
the time,- regular 'star-spangled-banner boys,
are n't we ? "
Poor Phil, a little homesick perhaps, clung
loyally to his own beloved country; so his cousin
Walter said, kindly, Yes, Phil, of course we are.
Hurrah for home and Phil's face brightened.
Walter was a sturdy, rosy-cheeked lad, who had
no need to drink from the health-giving fountains
for which Homburg is so celebrated. His cousin
Philip, although not much younger, was sensitive
and delicate in appearance, and so small that the
boys sometimes nicknamed him Filbert."
The other two boys, Harry and Fritz, were at
Homburg because their mother was an invalid.
So these four friends lived under the same roof,
studied with the same master, and had right royal
FOR THEIR COUNTRY'S SAKE.
The next day was Saturday. It happened also
to be a fte day; indeed, these festivals come so fre-
quently, in Germany, that one wonders whether
the people ever do anything but play.
On this particular Saturday, the boys had per-
mission to spend the whole day just as they chose;
which made it a red-letter day in advance.
Up in the morning with the birds, no bird was
happier than they. The weather was all that even
a boy'sheartcouldwish. Hastening to theBrunnen
for a morning draught, the very stones of the red
mosaic on which they stood seemed to catch the sun-
shine and hold it fast. Pretty peasant girls in gala
dresses, wearing jaunty little caps, dipped up for
them the bubbling water in beautiful Bohemian-
glass tumblers, of every shape and color.
Banks of autumn-tinted flowers striped the thick
green turf here and there. Ivies covered ugly,
broken walls, making them comely. And over
all hung a soft, bluish haze, half hiding the little
town as it lay asleep at the foot of the Taunus
Already the orchestra was playing a grand and
solemn hymn, and with the music a glad thanksgiv-
ing crept into the hearts of the boys. But these
happy lads did not know that all this beauty and
brightness made so large a share of their pleasure.
Even grown-up people seldom find out such things.
This holiday did not begin an hour too soon for
all that the friends had planned to do. Laughing
and shouting for very joy in their freedom, they
climbed part way up a spur of the nearest mount-
ain, gathering nuts and gorgeous autumn-leaves, or
cracking innocent stones, hoping to find a living
toad imprisoned in one, as sometimes happens.
When they grew tired of this, they thought of
the old castle; and, after some delay, they
obtained permission to enter it.
Let us pretend that we are princes paying a
visit to the Landgrave," suggested Walter.
Or ambassadors from America," Phil hinted,
What is an ambassador?" asked Fritz.
"Why, he is a -a an advertisement for his
country," Phil stammered.
Well, I '11 wager America will be pretty well
known if Phil is to be her ambassador," said
Poor Phil flushed, but answered, bravely:
Then I hope everybody will love her as well
as I do."
Then they all went in, through the grounds, which
are laid out like an English park. They climbed
up to the very turrets of the ancient castle, from
which the town looked like a toy village. The tall
" white tower" filled them with awe. Everybody
knows that it dates from the twelfth century; but
it looked so grand and solid that the difficulty lay
in imagining that it had not been there always.
When these self-appointed ambassadors"
came out of the castle-gate into the world again,
they decided to pay a visit of "inspection" to
the linen and woolen factories. At that time
Homburg had become too gay and pleasure-loving
to give much attention to her manufactories, but
once these were her only means of getting a living.
The boys went through the ceremony of asking
questions and taking notes, with many a merry
jest about the Report" which they would make
to their government. Phil was thinking all the
time of the mills of Lowell and Willimantic, away
across the water, but he did not confess it, for fear
of being laughed at.
Being boys of hearty appetites they sandwiched
their numerous adventures with luncheon, which
was partly supplied from the general lunch-basket
and partly procured at stalls or cafes, and of course
At length our heroes entered the pleasant park
again. Through tangles of green, past the Kaiser
spring, over carpets of yellow leaves,-on they
strolled, until they were tired. The park was a
picture of sweet content on that soft, hazy after-
noon. Here and there were seated women, busily
knitting, while quaint little children played at their
feet; and the orchestra- always the orchestra-
Again the boyish appetite asserted itself and,
very naturally, Walter suggested that they should
follow the example of all the world, and order ices.
This proposal was received with applause, and they
made their way to the IKzrsaal.
Entering the KIrsaal, they seated themselves at
a table, and soon four pairs of bright eyes were
intently studying German. A bill of fare is cer-
tainly an attractive means of making the acquaint-
ance of a foreign language. This sudden attack
of studiousness resulted in a different order from
each reader. Creams, and the funny little cakes
one finds in Germany, were brought and quickly
Fritz, who had finished his allowance almost too
promptly for strict politeness, exclaimed:
Boys, that jPistacze is the very best thing that
ever was made! "
I can't see how you found it out," said Walter.
There was n't enough of mine for a good taste."
Let us all try it said Harry, and the others,
nothing loth, consented; so a second order was
filled. It was a merry.party, eating and chatting
in true boyish freedom.
At length Walter, who had proposed the treat,
called for the bill. He and Harry had a good-
natured scramble for it when it came; for, after the
FOR THEIR COUNTRY'S SAKE.
lordly manners of their elders, each wished to pay
Walter was victorious, but upon opening his
purse, he was surprised to find that it contained
scarcely a tenth of the sum necessary.
"Here, Walter, let me lend it to you," said
Harry, quickly guessing the truth. Upon close
inspection, he discovered, to his dismay, that his
purse also was nearly empty.
"Yes, and be arrested for debt and put in
prison," Harry added.
They would never dare to do such a thing to
Americans,".said little Phil, looking very white.
"Of course they dare, and they will," insisted
Walter; the police arrest everybody in this hor-
rid country, without any reason whatever."
Ask the man at the desk to trust us," again
" I AM ONLY TOO GLAD TO BE OF SERVICE TO AN AMERICAN."
"Let us all put in together," Phil suggested;
and in a twinkling the scanty contents of four
purses lay side by side. A glance at the whole
amount forced upon the boys the awful truth
that even this would not meet the bill. They
had taken no note of the kreutzers during the
day, and therefore the marks were now lacking.
What shall we do ?" they looked rather than
"We ought to have brought a nurse to look after
us," said Walter, savagely.
Tell 'em this is all the money we have," Fritz
But his brother said, pettishly:
"Don't be a baby, Fritz. If we had n't taken
a second 'help,' we would have been all right."
Well, who proposed it, I should like to know ?"
You made us think of it, anyway," Harry re-
plied, a little ashamed to lay the blame upon his
younger brother, yet not quite equal to assuming
the burden himself.
Quarreling won't do any good, boys," quavered
poor Phil, trembling in every limb. "We had
better confess at once."
"All right, Filbert! suppose you do it. You are
x888.] FOR THEIR CO
always so ready to make suggestions, you can go
fight it out alone." Harry's words and tone
showed that he was getting cross; and little Fritz
knew that this was Harry's way of showing that he
was scared; so Fritz burst into a flood of tears.
He felt that if Harry was frightened, all was lost.
Oh, dear he sobbed, I know we shall all
be shut up in a dark dungeon under the sea for a
great many years, and our friends will never know
it and and then we shall be hung for
Every moment things grew worse.. Nothing but
little paper napkins and empty dishes gave evi-
dence of the feast so lately enjoyed. Here stood
the waiter, in amazement, not able to understand
a word. In those pale, frightened faces looking so
wofully across the table at each other, one could
scarcely recognize the happy boys who had set out
so gayly in the morning.
A gentleman who was seated with a party of
ladies, near them, had observed their distress. At
this moment he leaned over, and touching Walter
on the arm, he said kindly:
"Boys, I have overheard your conversation, and
BY TUDOR JENKS.
BEATING drums -
Here it comes !
They are just turning into our street.
At the noise,
How the boys
Come running with clattering feet!
That 's the drum-major, high twirling his staff,
Looking as though it were wicked to laugh,
Followed by drummer-boys, smaller by half,
Each so exquisitely neat.
Hear the fife !
In my life
I never heard piping so shrill.
And the band
Is so grand -
(Though puffing from climbing the hill).
Now the loud cymbals break in with a clash.
How, in the sunshine, they glitter and flash !
Look at the captain see his red sash !
Truly it gives one a thrill.
What a line-
That is fine!
Never was marching so true,-
I would like
A big spike
In the top of my hat, would n't you?
How grand I should be in a uniform red,
With such a fierce helmet a-top of my head;
Then for my country when I'd fought and -bled?
No. I don't think that would do.
Soon they're past,
And at last
Ceases the marching throng.
But the ear
Still can hear
An echo of martial song,
Softening, failing, and dying away,
While we return to our own work-a-day
Rattle and rumble of horse-car and dray,
Wearily dragging along.
UNTRY S SAKE. 703
you must allow me to help you out of your diffi-
culty. I have been very kindly treated in America,
where I was a stranger. Now, I am only too glad
to be of service to an American," at the same time
pressing an English sovereign into Walter's hand.
Too greatly relieved to hesitate, the money was
gladly accepted, and after heartily thanking the un-
known giver the ambassadors went home, crest-
fallen, but comforted.
On his way to church with his mother the next
morning, Walter was both glad and abashed to
see, in an open carriage, the stranger who had been
his generous banker. He lifted his hat politely,
and received a friendly nod of recognition in re-
Why, my son, do you know to whom you are
bowing? his mother asked, in surprise. That
is the Prince of Wales "
Well, Mamma, he deserves to be a prince, for
he certainly was most kind and gentlemanly to us
boys," replied Walter; and as he thought of this
"gentil deed he was ready to echo Lord Tenny-
son's famous line,
"Kind hearts are more than coronets."
THE BROWNIES' KITES.
By PALMER COX.
THE bats had hardly taken flight,
To catch the insects of the night;
Or fowls secured a place of rest
:,* ,: 5^: -!i. h. k, .
.-__: -, 4 .
':_':-L. : ".% :"
-_ ,, .-- .- ,
.- .-i ,
...' ',- .. -
-,- -A,, ; ,... ,- -
,' K t 1f '
Where Reynard's paw could not molest,
When Brownies gathered to pursue
Their plans regarding pleasures new.
Said one: In spite of hand or string,
Now hats fly round like crows in spring,
_Fypncinr- hueds t, .,tlt of qir.
S I t [ .,: :- .: l ,. r ;
-[1-' ",..ll'i --I. I !; .:, : : l :; l, .I ta ils
t- i .-i'- I.- ii' -
1.: I1. .r,' I r ,
.',f' I ,1 .i "i i.':'i. .'" i' ", il. i '
i fii t in ri -- I rIr: .:.
L ,. i ,: ..:I r '., l :ir ,- : ., ,:
THE BROWNIES' KITES.
So let us now, while winds are high,
Our hands at once to work apply; ., '
And from the hill that lifts its q
So far above the neighboring
We '11 send our kites I
aloft in crowds, //
To lose themselves .-
among the .. -
A smile on every
face was spread,
At thought of fun
like this, ahead;
And quicklyall the
plans were laid,
Some to the kitch-
ens ran in haste,
pots of paste.
Some ran for
tacks or shin-
And some for
rags to make
Perhaps some twine-
shop, standing nigh,
Was raided for the
Perhaps some youthful
About his missing fish-
But let them find things
where they will,
The Brownies must be
&' ., >h
And those who can't such losses stand,
Will have to charge it to the Band.
With busy fin-
gers, well ap-
They clipped and
'' pasted, bent and tied;
S With paint and brush
some ran about
S From kite to kite, to
fit them out.
On some they paint a
While others would affright a bear,
Nor was it long (as one might guess
Who knows what skill their hands possess)
Before the kites, with string and tail,
Were all prepared to ride the gale;
While more with loads
of paper came,
Or whittled sticks to
make the frame.
The strings, that others gathered, soon
Seemed long enough to reach the moon.
But where such quantities they found,
'T is not so easy to expound; -
And oh, the climax of their glee
Was reached when kites were floating free !
So quick they mounted through the air
That tangling strings played mischief there,
And threatened to remove from land
Some valued members of the band.
The birds of night were horrified
At finding kites on every side,
And netted strings, that seemed to be
Designed to limit action free.
But Brownies stood or ran about,
Now winding up, now letting out;
Now giving kites more tail or string,
Now wishing for a longer string;
Until they saw the hints of day
Approaching through the morning
THE BROWNIES' KITES.
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SIX.
BY EUGENE M. CAMP.
ARE you the editor ? "
The scene was the interior of a newspaper office
in one of the large cities. About the room lay
partly cut newspapers, and in cases on the walls
were many volumes of reference books. The desk,
which stood in the center of the room, had upon it a
pad of writing-paper, a paste-pot, a huge pair of
shears, and the feet of the man to whom the query
The visitor was a young lad whose frank, fresh
face and bright eyes were in striking contrast to
the features of the man at the desk. The face
of the latter had the tired expression common
among brain-workers, particularly those who work
at night, as editors of morning newspapers are
compelled to do.
Yes, I am one of them," was the reply that
came to the boy from behind the newspaper.
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SIX.
The tone of the answer gave the questioner
confidence. Advancing to the table, the lad
quickly inverted a small box which he carried,
and there rolled out beside the paste-pot, and over
the big shears, what would have made, if meas-
ured, fully a quart of coins; five and ten cent pieces,
with an occasional paper bill of a low denomination.
"Then this is for you," said the lad, politely
lifting his cap.
"Why for me?" asked the astonished editor,
throwing away his paper. "Tell me about it."
Oh, yes, sir," replied the boy, nervously fum-
bling in his pocket for a letter. "We gave an
entertainment last night, and this is the money
we got. Please send it to those folks out in Ohio
whose homes have been washed away by the
floods. My father said I was to ask you to send it
wherever you thought it would do the most good
and that I was to get a receipt from you for it,"
said the little business-man.
The details were soon settled. The receipt was
given, and with the document carefully deposited
in his pocket, the lad politely lifted his cap and
bade the editor Good-day." Next morning the
readers of the paper found in its columns the fol-
lowing story :
"An excellent illustration of what well-directed
effort can do was given in the little suburban
village of W- on Thursday evening. It is
doubly interesting, too, because it was undertaken
and successfully carried out by six children, whose
ages range from seven to twelve years. These six
bright little people had taken a prominent part in
an entertainment given some weeks previous, in
which they had had some stage training. When
the sad story of the floods reached them, they
began to wonder if they could not do something
to assist the distant children whose homes had
been swept away. The feeling grew so strong
among them that they held a meeting on the
street-corner after school, and decided to ask per-
mission of their parents to give a public enter-
tainment, in which they were to repeat their pre-
vious efforts, and add enough to the programme
to make the proposed entertainment of sufficient
"At the end of the week the children had arranged
all details. They had divided their programme
into four parts, the first two of which were made up
mainly of recitations and music. The third part
was an exhibition of selections from Mother Goose.
These parts were taken in equal number by the
three boys and the three girls composing the com-
pany. As they were so small, they gave themselves
the name of The Little Six.' The fourth part of
the programme consisted of a comedietta entitled
'Art in the Rosewood Family,' which was the
same these little folks had given on the previous
occasion. In the short space of a week, the entire
entertainment was prepared and given. The pro-
ceeds amounted to $56.75, which will be seen to
be large when it is stated that the price of admission
was only fifteen cents.
"Putting the amount of money received into a
small box, the eldest member of the company,
who is twelve, came into the city yesterday, and
asked the editor of this paper to forward the
amount to the sufferers by the floods. Of course
the request was complied with, and the money
forwarded by telegraph to the president of 'The
Red Cross Society.' This act of 'The Little
Six' is so praiseworthy, and at the same time so
unique, that we are sure our readers will be glad to
learn in due time of the disposition of the money."
At the time the facts occurred upon which the
foregoing story is founded, the Ohio River was
overflowing its banks to such an extent that the
homes and crops of thousands of people had been
washed away and destroyed. Damage amounting
to millions of dollars had been done. In some of
the cities the water rose even to the second-story
windows of the houses. The national government,
through its War Department, distributed tents and
rations to the unfortunate people, but as any ST.
NICHOLAS boy or girl will see, upon a moment's
thought, a great burden must be borne by the
fathers and mothers of these destroyed homes in
their efforts to repair their broken fortunes as soon
as the floods should have receded.
To assist people in such emergencies, there is an
organization called The Society of the Red Cross."
It is a very great and a very humane society. It is
composed of kind-hearted men and women, and
has branch organizations in every civilized country
in the world. This society goes to the relief of
sufferers by flood, war, famine, or any similar
calamity. Of course its representatives were at
that time in the Ohio Valley, and were doing all
they could for the afflicted people.
At the head of the American Branch of The
Society of the Red Cross" is Miss Clara Barton,
a noble woman whose unselfish work has made
her to be loved and honored wherever she is known.
To her the editor intrusted the money contributed
by The Little Six."
Some weeks had elapsed, when one morning the
editor of the great city paper received a letter
which bore the seal of the Red Cross Society. It
was postmarked Shawneetown, Ill." The next
morning the readers of the paper found in its
columns another story. It was written by Miss
Barton herself, and was as follows:
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SIX.
"Few incidents have ever touched me more
deeply than the story of 'The Little Six,' and I
determined to find, if possible, a special place for
their offering. We have been for weeks in the
flooded districts, and have been as far south as
Memphis, calling at all places along the river, and
distributing food, clothing, and money wherever
we found them needed. We turned up-stream
from Memphis, and came slowly to Cairo, and
then entered the swollen Ohio. But in no quar-
ter did we find the special place for the money
from our little W- friends. Yesterday, when
we were a few miles below Shawneetown, there
appeared on the Illinois bank of the river a
woman, who waved a shawl as a signal for us
to come ashore. We quickly answered her call
"Climbing the bank was a difficult task, for the
water had made the ground slippery, and despite
the fact that we put down boards, we often sank
over shoe-tops in the mud. We followed the
woman some distance from the bank. Everywhere
there was a dreary waste. Trees had been torn
out by the roots. Buildings were either lying
upon their sides or had been reduced to flood-
wood, and the ground was cut up by great ditches
washed out by the receding waters.
In the midst of this desolation, the woman led
the way to a small corn-crib, that in some way
had withstood the floods. Reaching it, she turned
to tell us her story, and I noticed that the trials
she had undergone had left great furrows of care
in her face, like the furrows in the earth about us.
She had a hard expression, but determination and
honesty were shown in her countenance, while her
eyes told of her faith in Providence, even under
her present hard conditions.
"It seems scarcely credible that any one could
have been so hopeful as she. Two years ago the
family had completed a nice home, small and
modest, but comfortable, and would have finished
paying for it but for the failure of the corn crop.
They had hoped in the future, but the next year
the cholera attacked their hogs and nearly all of
them died. Last autumn the father became ill, and
after much suffering he died at Christmas. This
spring the floods came and carried away their home,
leaving them only a corn-crib; which seven of them
had made to answer for a home for nearly three
weeks. The floods also drowned their horses, and
carried away all of their other stock, save half-a-
dozen chickens, two of which were pecking about
in search of food while the woman was telling her
As we looked into the miserable corn-crib, and
saw the straw pallet on which the family had slept,
and the rags in the cracks, to keep out the March
wind, I could not help crying. There were several
children about, and all were neatly dressed. One
of the older ones said he had six fresh-laid eggs
which he would like to sell us,- an incident which
showed the thriftiness of the family, despite their
'How many children have you ?' I asked, when
the woman had finished her story.
Six,' quickly came the reply.
'The very place --
'For that money,' broke in my faithful lieuten-
ant, the doctor, who stood at my side; and who,
like the rest of our relieving party, was deeply
affected by the tale of suffering we had heard.
"I related the story of 'The Little Six' in full,
and told her I was going to give her their money
to help her to rebuild her home. It was her turn
now, and the tears ran freely down her care-worn
cheeks. We brought up from the boat a large
quantity of clothing, abarrel of flour, several boxes
of provisions, a bag of corn for the chickens, and
some fresh fruit for the children. I gave the
contribution from 'The Little Six' intact into the
woman's hands, and when I bought the eggs, I
slipped into the boy's pocket several bright gold-
pieces, for I knew he and his mother would need
them before the autumn.
'Will you name the house when you have it
rebuilt?' I asked, as we at last prepared to go.
The woman caught my meaning, and smiling
through her tears, replied:
'I think we will call it The Little Six.'
"And now, my dear Mr. Editor, I wish you would
personally thank each of The Little Six' for me,
and tell them how much I think of their noble
deed. I have recorded the story upon the books
of the Red Cross Society; but I hope and believe
that this is not the last kind act my little friends
will have placed to their credit, if not on the
books of the Red Cross, then in another book, in
which such good deeds are recorded forever."
Did not Miss Barton make an excellent disposi-
tion of the money which our little friend brought
to the editor that morning? And might not other
children, should the necessity arise, do as nobly as
these children did?
* See Letter-box," page 716.
/ 1''w-"'-'ivDi':'nEN box was sitting on the back porch.
S / i -Th expressman had left it there late that after-
n,:,:'nn. The back porch belonged to a pretty cot-
tage in the country. It was a very pleasant
place. Some of the branches of a big oak-tree that grew beside it made a
green, leafy roof for it. A pair of saucy sparrows had a nest on one of these
branches. They chirped and twittered and scolded all day long. But they
did not chirp and twitter and scold now, because it was night and they were
A toad hopped up the porch steps, and looked at the box. His eyes
shone like little stars.
"What's in it? he asked.
Fireworks," answered some small, crackling voices, through a wide
crack in the top.
Oh I see," said.the toad.
"What a fib! You don't," said the voices.
Well, I know," said the toad.
What do you know? asked the queer voices.
I know what you 've come here for," answered the toad. "You 've
come here to go off. You '11 go off to-morrow night. I saw a lot of your
THE TOAD AND THE FIREWORKS.
relatives last Fourth of July. Fine f slc.~w s th'ey
were, but too bright to last. And such a
fuss and a noise as they made
when they did go off!
Fizz-izzz-izz -k-r- *'.-z.... I -
bang !-bang But, before he could say another word, Good-night! "
said the small voices, in tones more crackling than ever.
"What? asked the toad.
Good-nigt!/" snapped the voices.
"Oh! good-night," said the toad; and he turned around and hopped
down the steps.
As soon as he was gone, one of the fireworks began to talk. How
tiresome toads are," it said. I 'm glad I 'm not one. I 'd much rather be
a pin-wheel. For, though pin-wheels don't live so long, they end their
lives in a blaze of glory. And what pleasure they give to those who are
watching them, in their last bright moments. Just fancy: I 'm lighted,
and away I go in a shower of sparks, round and round and round, faster
and faster and faster, the children shouting with delight. Then, whizz! in
a flash I turn the other way, and round and round and round I go, faster
and faster and faster- "
"Pshaw rudely interrupted one of the other fireworks. Pin-wheels
don't amount to much. They can be seen only by the few people who are
near them, and they have to be fastened to a fence or a tree to be seen at
all. Now, I am a sky-rocket. I leave the earth behind me when I am set
free, and away I soar like a bird, up, up, up, among the stars. And there I
burst into stars, myself,-stars of all the colors of the rainbow, and so beau-
THE TOAD AND THE FIREWORKS.
tiful that the real sky-stars turn pale. And hundreds and thousands of
people see me. Yes, hundreds and thousands."
The pin-wheel made no reply.
Yes, hundreds and thousands," repeated the sky-rocket. But all the
other fireworks remained silent.
The toad hopped up the porch steps again.
And what then ?" he asked.
Oh! you 're back, are you ?" said the sky-rocket.
Yes, I 'm back," said the toad. I did n't go far. Not so far but that
I 've heard all that you and the pin-wheel have been saying. You look
down on the pin-wheel because you are going to soar like a bird, do you ?
And your stars are sure to make the real sky-stars turn pale, are they ? And
hundreds, yes, thousands of people will see and admire you, will they ?
And what then? "
Well, what then ? asked the sky-rocket.
"Why, then, what is left of you will come down to earth again, and it
will be nothing but a small piece of wood. And all that will be left of the
pin-wheel will be a small piece of wood also. So you see, though you
begin in a much grander manner, both end in the very same way."
Good-night," snapped the sky-rocket.
What? asked the toad.
Oh! good-night," said the toad; and down the steps he hopped
again, and away to his / home near the well.
But hald spoken /the- truth; f- -.n the next night at
that same h..,l, c here t -I- ,:,rhi r ,f t1,:_'-r tl,:v ,in-vi he. ''i
or the sk y-'rock'-t L t bl a r al ,:,. t"C w0'1, od, I.0.
: ,_ 7
..,. W A .K. -
AC-; IN- THE-- P IT.-
S,, ., ,.-,.
A CK- IN T1H E -P U LP IT.
GOOD-DAY, my children, here in America, there
in England, and in all other countries where the
language called English is spoken or any other
language which may have a local value. Some-
how, as July approaches, and all good Jacks-in-
the-Pulpit know that the odor of gunpowder must
for one long, noisy day, blend with the breath of the
daisies, it makes one feel like rejoicing that the
days of strife between England and America are
over, and that little Yankee Doodles and juvenile
John Bulls will find it out as they grow older.
Fire your crackers, my little ones, here -but
make your prettiest bows and curtseys to your
brothers and sisters across the seas, even while
you frankly confess that it beats all how good it
feels to be an American on the Fourth of July.
THE ARBUTUS IN TROUBLE.
Now, my littlest folk, will you kindly roll on the
grass for a few moments, or hunt for four-leaved
clovers whilst your Jack reads a very important
letter to the big boys and girls ?
Well, well,-you all wish to hear-do you?
I warn you that you 'll be shocked. If I can
believe my senses, this letter virtually says that,
correctly speaking, there is no trailing arbutus
anywhere in America-think of that! -and that
what is called the arbutus in England does n't trail
at all, but stands up stark and stiff like the straw-
berry-tree that it sometimes is, and -
Bless me! The little chicks have flown, and
only my big boys and girls are listening I thought
it would be so. Now for the letter:
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Your department in our dear Sr.
NICHOLAS always interests me so much that I want to add a word to
your talk about arbutus, in the April number. Some years ago,
rs. Ednah D. Cheney, in speaking of our dainty flower, said she
objected very much to the name arbutus as wholly incorrect, and led
by her remarks to make some little research into the matter, I found
we had no plant known botanically as arbutus. Prof. Asa Gray,
with whom I afterward spoke on the subject, was at a loss to account
for the origin of the name here, and, like Mrs. Cheney, he deplored the
use of local rather than botanical names, as being most misleading;
the true name, Epigfea Repens, being the only one thathe authorized.
In regard to the quotations from Mrs. Browning and Cowper, any
one familiar with the arbutus of England knows that it is not a creep-
ingvine likeours, but a large shrub, indeed almost a tree -evergreen,
with red berries, sometimes called there (but rarely, I think) the
strawberry-tree, and frequently found in plantations and shrub-
beries massed with laurel, holly, and other hardy shrubs. Our" trail-
ing spring-flower tinted like a shell" is unknown to our English
cousins until they see it here, or known to them only in pictured form.
As regards the pronunciation of the word, I quite agree as to arbutus
being correct, though this seems to me a consideration only second-
ary to the fact that the name, as we apply it, is a misnomer.
M. R. A.
Dear, dear 1 Well, my poor American flower-
lovers, all you can do when next May comes is
to get down on your little knees, and, smothering
your grief, search tenderly for the Efigz a Repens
and ask its scientific pardon for ever having called
By the way, the prize-boy of the Red School-
house requests me to state right here that this
rather high-sounding name for the pretty little
arbutus gives him a good idea of the plant, which
he happens never to have seen. He says the word
Repens (which is Latin) tells him that the plant
we have called arbutus is a sort of creeper, and
Epigzwa (which is Greek) shows him that it creeps
close to the ground.
So, you see, there are two sides to the question.
Greek and Latin are more friendly to the flowers
than, at first thought, one would suppose possible.
Think the matter over.
HAVE YOU SEEN HIMP
HERE is a letter from a little boy at the seaside,
who uses his eyes to good advantage in observing
a living mite which he calls "A small worrier."
He may mean to say warrior, but either worrier or
warrior is a good name for the lively and pugnacious
fellow the little boy describes:
I WONDER, dear Jack, how many of your little friends have seen
this kind of insect: It is of a brownish tint, and has six small legs,
somewhat resembling a spider's. These little worriers are. found on
the sand, sometimes in small passages, which apparently they have
made. If you should happen to offend one of these small creatures
in any way, he would probably take up in his little arms such a
fearful thing as a grain of sand, and throw it at you. I hope that
no one would hurt such a brave, harmless, and interesting mite.
I remain, your little friend, E. P. McE.
HOW TO WRITE ON ICE WITH INK.
NOT many of you, my children, will care to write
your letters on ice, even during the summer months.
But I was rather struck with the novel idea, when
a boy of the Red School-house told the dear Little
School-ma'am a bit of news that lately had come to
this country from Austria. It appears that Francis
Joseph, the Emperor of Austria, has a country-seat
near Vienna, and on this fine royal estate is a lake
which in winter is used as a skating pond. Well,
during one of the latest Austrian "cold snaps," an
expert Vienna gentleman went skating there, with
a little reservoir of ink adjusted to the back of his
skate in such a way as to allow the ink to flow out
in a fine, steady stream. Then off he started, and
before he had skated long, there appeared in his
rapid track the name of the Crown Princess, beau-
tifully and plainly written upon the ice.
Was n't this a pretty compliment to set before
the king ?
The example of the expert Austrian may not
be easy for you to follow just now, my melting
little Americans-for ice is somewhat scarce in
your part of the world, and crown princesses espe-
cially so. Yet the idea of writing upon ice will
keep till next winter.
NIAGARA LET LOOSE.
I WONDER if any of you have ever witnessed a
thunder-storm in the Alps ? My birds have told
me of it. If you have ever seen Niagara, then
just imagine it let loose all over the Alleghany
mountains, and you have an idea of what a rain-
storm in the Alps is. The summits of the mount-
ains dash over with waterfalls, and the gorges
roar with the sound of the water and of the thun-
der. The foam is seen on every side. Presently
limbs of trees begin to float by, and to get all
tangled up. There is no use, however, in their
trying to stop all that ocean of water and mist.
The waves leap "like mad"; and if you are not
on a good high and dry spot, you are greatly in
All this is sometimes seen by birds and human
folk, but I, for one, am glad I have not had the
honor of seeing it. I like my Niagaras in their
proper places, and in a very mild form.
Now, one of the prettiest sights I know of is
to see, on a sunny day, just after a shower, shin-
ing little streams running down from tall bent
grasses, and resting themselves in the clover leaves
LONG LIVES AND SHORT LIVES.
ST. Louis, Mo.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In answer to your question, in a
recent number of ST. NICHOLAS, as to how long the day-fly and
elephant live, the elephant lives 400 years. As for the day-fly, I
looked the little fellow up in Worcester's dictionary. W. says: "A
neuropterous insect of the g....- T which, after the change
into a perfect fly, survives '... I.. ....
Here are some statistics for your congregation: "An elephant
lives 400 years ; a whale, 300; a tortoise, xoo; a camel, 40; a horse,
25; a bear, 20o; a lion, 20 o; an ox, 25; a cat, I5; a sheep, io; a squir-
rel, 8; a guinea-pig, 7."
The crow, eagle, raven, and swan live one hundred years.
Your interested reader, J. J. C., Jr.
Surely, my animals have reason to be grateful to
J. J. C., Jr. He certainly gives them promise of
long lives, according to their kind. Whether Provi-
dence expects them to live exactly up to these
figures or not, it is to be hoped that human folk
will respect possibilities, and not wantonly cut
short the life of any animal,--the mosquito, of
Yes, mosquitoes plainly were born to be killed -
and if you '11 watch one long enough, when he
alights upon you, humming cheerily, you 'llsee him
settle down deliberately and sign and seal his own
death-warrant. Then, and not till then, you must
be his calm executioner.
Alas, if human beings had less feeling the mos-
quito, too, might live his hundred years !
THE ORIGIN OF A FEW WELL-KNOWN NAMES.
I WONDER, dear Jack, writes a friend of ST.
NICHOLAS, if any of your young folk can tell how
" calico came by its name ? Lest they may not
be able to do so, I will say that it is derived from
Calicut, a city of India, from which it was first
taken to England, in 1631, by the East India Com-
pany. Cambric, you may tell them, comes from
Cambria. Gingham is derived from Guingamp,
in Brittany, and muslin from Mosul, a city in
Asiatic Turkey. Tulle is named from a city in
France. Poplin was first manufactured in a
Papal territory, and hence was called Papaline -
afterward changed into "poplin." Worsted was
first spun in 1630, at Worsted, a town in Norfolk,
England, where the industry is carried on to this
very day. Gauze is from Gaza, in Palestine, where
it was first made.
Perhaps some of the young folk can add a few
interesting items to this list.
INDEPENDENCE DAY IN FAIRYLAND.
SOME of you may think that the Fourth of July
is not generally observed in the fairies' country,
and others among you may feel quite sure that
every day is Independence Day to the tiny people.
Be this as it may, certain poets, who know all
about fairy folk, have found out just how their
"Fourth" is celebrated, as you '11 see by these
verses, written for you, and sent to my Pulpit"
by airy fairy Lilian Dynevor Rice.
THE wee mid-summer fairies who dwell in wood and meadow,
Although they be but tiny folk are patriotic too;
So when they heard the children say the "glorious Fourth" was
They met in solemn conference to see what they could do.
But fireworks and powder, torpedoes, rockets, crackers,
Are not for sale in fairyland, as you perhaps might dream;
At first the case seemed hopeless, but, after weighty thinking,
Like clever elve-Americans they hit upon a scheme.
First, beneath the branches they unfurled a splendid banner,
Whose stripes were crimson salvia with daisies laid between,
Forget-me-nots and blue-bells made all one corer azure,
With stars of golden buttercups, the largest ever seen.
For crackers and torpedoes they snapped the empty seed pods,
While puff-balls did their little best to smoke with all their might,
And the elfinfite was ended with shooting stars for rockets,
While Roman-candle fireflies lit all the summer night.
THE Little School-ma'am asked her children
lately if any of them could give her a common
English word which is defined as "confined or re-
strained," and also as going, or ready to go,"
and "to spring, or to leap."
Then, before they could reply, she told them
that she held in her hand something that was--
(this word) very neatly and tastefully; "and in
it," she added: I notice that a boy remarked:
'I am-- (this word) to go swimming to-day.'"
Whereupon Bessie Scott, one of the scholars,
said with a laugh: "And I can-- (this word)
any State in the Union."
Let me hear from you concerning this word.
A JAPANESE LULLABY SONG.
BY A. V. R. EASTLAKE.
THE lullaby song that Japanese
mothers sing to their baby boys
and girls is very pretty, and it
makes me feel almost drowsy to
think of it. Little children in Japan
are very good and very easily
amused. When bedtime comes they lie on tufted
silken covers on the soft matting floor, and the
good mother sits beside them and pats softly with
her hand and sings:
Ne ne wo -shi! B ya wa ii o da,
Ne ne shi- na! Nen ne no omo- ri
do ko ye it ta? Ano ya ma
ko e te, o sato ye it ta.
Ne-ne woshi! BBya waiiko da,
Nenne no omori doko ye itta ?
Ano yama koete o-sato ye itta.
O-sato no o-miyage nani moratta?
Denden, taiko, ni sh6 no fuye,
Oki-agari-koboshi,* ni inu hariko,
B6ya wa ii ko da,
Ne-ne shi-na "
And this little song means, in our language,
Hush-a-bye, bye !
Darling baby is so good,
Hush-a-bye, bye !
Where is nurse gone, where did she go?
Over mountains far away to the town, I know.
What buys she for baby dear, in the village store ?
Cymbals, drums, flutes, and oh plenty, plenty more,
Paper doggies, pretty toys, every thing'for baby,
Darling baby is so good,
The babies in Japan have sparkling eyes and
funny little tufts of hair; they look so quaint and
old-fashioned, exactly like those doll-babies that
are sent over here to America. Now, in our coun-
try very young babies are apt to put everything in
their mouths ; a button or a pin, or anything, goes
straight to the little rosy wide-open mouth, and
the nurse or mamma must always watch and take
great care that baby does not swallow something
dangerous. But in Japan they put the small babies
right down in the sand by the door of the house,
or on the floor, but I never saw them attempt to
put anything in their mouths unless they were told
to do so, and no one seemed to be anxious about
them. When little boys or girls in Japan are
naughty and disobedient, they must be punished,
of course; but the punishment is very strange.
There are very small pieces of rice-paper called
moxa, and these are lighted with a match, and
then put upon the finger or hand or arm of the
naughty child, and
they burn a spot on
the tender skin that ,
hurts very, very '
screams with the
pain, and the red- 4 '
hot moxa sticks to !.
the skin for a mo- -. : .
ment or two, and .
then goes out; but -
the smarting burn
reminds the little child of his fault. I do not like
these moxas. I think it is a cruel punishment.
But perhaps it is better than a whipping. Only
I wish little children never had to be punished.
The words oki-agari-koboshi refer to a toy very popular among small children in China and Japan. In China it is called "pan-
puh-tao," the thing that may be "banged but not overturned "; and a common name for it in Japan is Daruma San, or Mr. Daruma."
The toy is a strong pasteboard figure of an old man in a squatting position, and is so rounded and weighted at the bottom that it will
always bob up in a sitting posture, no matter how often one may knock it over. It is said to represent an old Buddhist saint named
Daruma, who came from India to China in the sixth century, and sat gazing at a wall for nine years, as, like many other Buddhists, he
thought he could attain to supreme happiness by that kind of "fixed contemplation." The name in the song means "the little law-
doctor" (koboshi) "who bobs up again" (oki-agari), after being knocked over.
A SUMMER IDYL.
BY HENRY MOORE.
A SOLITARY sand-crab sidled from his cave,-
His melancholy, dark, and secret lodging,-
Scurried down the shingle to follow every wave,
And then kept his feet dry by dodging.
And whenever you thought he was going straight
He would shoot right off at an angle.
Now, would n't it be fun to know the funny little life
His funny little eyes seemed popping from his Which he lives in his sandy home; and maybe
head, To have an introduction to his funny little wife,
And his legs seemed all in a tangle, And see the little sand-crab baby.
CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the i5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.
THE DOGS OF JOHN BURROUGHS AND FRANK R. STOCKTON.
In reply to a letter which we sent to Mr. Burroughs concerning
his dog Laddie, he wrote:
WEST PARK, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My dog Laddie was a cur-a mixture of
black-and-tan and spaniel, the former predominating. He died, alas,
in February-was killed by a big dog of my neighbor. When I
came to where he lay, several hours after the big dog had had hold
of him, he was motionless, but still alive. The wounds which
covered his body had dried up in the sun. When I spoke to him
he made no other sign, but all his wounds instantly began to bleed
afresh; it was like bloody tears trickling from all over his body. I
suppose my voice quickened his pulse. He died in a.little while
afterward. Very sincerely yours,
MADISON, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Inclosed is a rough sketch from memory
of my dog Fax," Those who had known the dog and who saw the
sketch recognized the likeness. The sketch is as rough as the dog's
disposition, but it will give an artist the necessary points from which
to work. It must be remembered that the front half of the dog was
setter, and the hind half pointer. His front legs were short; his hind
legs very long. He was quick and animated, his ears being gener-
ally cocked ready for mischief. I hope this little sketch may be of
service. He was of a light color, with brown markings, and his long
ears were very handsome. Yours very truly,
FRANK R. STOCKTON.
WE thank Mr. Stockton very much for his spirited sketch of
Fax" which we have reproduced on page 677, just as it left his
hand,- without the help of any other artist.
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SIx.
The names and ages of the boys and girls constituting "The
Little Six" were:
Misses, Zoe Farrar, 12; Florence Howe, St: Mary Barton, x ;
and Masters, Reed White, is; Bertie Ensworth, 9; and Lloyd
PROGRAMME OF THE ENTERTAINMENT GIVEN BY THE LITTLE
PEOPLE FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE FLOOD SUFFERERS.
Compliments of The Little Six,"
at Ofera Hall, for Saturday Evening, February 16.
Greeting Glee ............................. THE LITTLE SIX.
"The Best I Can ".......................... FLORENCE HOWE.
The Puzzled Census-Taker" ............... REED WHITE.
"Over the Hill to the Poor-House" .............. ZOE FARRAR.
"Dorothy Sullivan" ........................ MARY BARTON.
Three Wise Old Women ..................... THE TROUPE.
"How Merry the Life ofa Bird". ............... THE TROUPE.
"Song ofthe Bobolink "......................... REED WHITE.
Katy Did".......... ................... BERTIE ENSWORTH.
"Jeannette and Jeannot"....................... THE TR
A duet, followed by Tableau by............... uHE TROUPE.
Selections from Mother Goose" ............. THE LITTLE SIX.
"ART IN THE ROSEWOOD FAMILY";
A play in Three Acts.
Head ofthe Household .......................... REED WHITE.
Mater Familias ............................ FLORENCE HOWE.
Juabel Rosewood, artist of the house ................ ZOE FARRAR.
S beauty of thefamily ....... MARY BARTON.
. ; ~Iride of the home ........ BERTIE ENSWORTH.
Decatur Rosewood, his mother's heope.......... LLOYD BHNSON.
Songs and Good Night ............ BY THE ROSEWOOD FAMILY.
Admission, 15 cents; reserved seats, 20o cents. The entire re-
ceipts to be given to the sufferers by the flood. The performance to
begin at 7:30, sharp. ca- Please bring this programme with you.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Owing to the suggestion in the March
number of ST. NICHOLAS, about pasting picture-cards, I have spent
many happy hours during a long illness, and have nine large cards
covered each side, and they are very pretty. I did not plan any
comic ones, but made one a mass of pretty faces. I, too, shall send
them to a hospital.
Although I am a girl, I was very much interested in Drill."
I remain, your loving reader,
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my three little
playmates--a baby boy, a baby dog, and a baby cat. The little
boy's name is Harry, the kitten's name is Tigs, and the pup's name
is Wigs, because his hair is so long over his eyes that it looks like a
curly wig. Wigs chases Tigs, Tigs chases Wigs, and Harry chases
them all; Wigs sleeps in a basket, Tigs sleeps on a rug by the fire,
and Harry sleeps in a crib. Tigs keeps one eye open to see what
Wigs is at, Wigs keeps one eye open to see what Tigs is at, but Harry
keeps both eyes tight shut, as a baby should.
One day, Harry was sick and could not play. Tigs jumped into
the crib on one side, Wigs jumped in at the other, and soon all three
were fast asleep. By and by mother came into the room. Harry
woke up, and said he felt better. When the doctor came, he said that
the cuddling of Wigs and Tigs had made him quite well, so ever
after they were called Dr. Wigs and Dr. Tigs.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your account of the Girls' Military
Company" in the January number made me think it might interest
some of your readers to hear about a gymnasium for girls and young
ladies, which we have here.
There are about forty members, and we meet twice a week at a
dancing-hall. Our costumes are a little like those described in the
"Girls' Military Company," but we don't wear hats, and our
dresses extend only a little below the knee. We have dumb-bell,
wand, and percussion exercises, and a very pretty march. Any girl
above fourteen years of age may join.
With love and best wishes, from A GYMNAST.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been a subscriber to your magazine
for over a year, and think there is no other to equal it.
As I have never seen a letter from Houston, I thought I would
write one, and tell you something about our city.
It is in the southern part of the Ione Star State. It is situated
on the banks of Buffalo Bayou. Visitors who come here laugh at
such an insignificant stream, but we feel quite proud of it, as it is
the only water near us. In the spring it is really quite pretty; with
its stately magnolias and graceful willow-trees, the scenery is quite
Houston has between 35,000 and 40,000 inhabitants, and is rapidly
growing. We have the finest union depot, and one of the finest
hotels in the South; also a handsome market-house, court-house,
and cotton exchange.
Our city is named after General Sam Houston, the leader in our
war with Mexico. The battle of San Jacinto, which gave us our
independence, was fought only a few miles from here. The 2ist of
April, the anniversary of that battle, is always a State holiday. I
hope my letter is not too long to be published, as I would love to see
it in print.
Your constant reader, MARY KATE H-- .
FORT SUPPLY, I. T.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little army girl. and as I have
never seen a letter from here, I thought I would tell you about the
Indian camp which we went to see. We saw the Indian teiees and
all the Indian children; and the mothers carry their babies on their
backs; and one baby, two months old, was born with a tooth. I
tried to hang a bottle on a table, as described in ST. NICHOLAS, and
succeeded. I fear my letter will be too long to print.
I am, your faithful reader, JENNIE A-.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have just celebrated my tenth birthday,
and you can imagine my joy and surprise at receiving a year's sub-
scription to the dear ST. NICHOLAS. Five copies lay on the table
waiting for me, and I eagerly read "Sara Crewe," and thoroughly
Besides the ST. NICHOLAS, I received two of Miss Alcott's works
and one of Miss Muloch's.
Good-bye, with best wishes from your interested reader,
ELSA R, S--
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I don't often see letters in the "Letter-
box" from Egypt, so I thought I would write.
Cairo is very warm at present, and the smells -they are fearful,
in the little narrow streets. I wish I could give some idea of the
bazars. They are little, narrow alleys, where no carriage can pass;
the bazars have no doors, and are open to the street; most of the
goods for sale are outside on a stand, while the men sit inside, cross-
legged; such lovely table-covers in bright colors may be bought,
or sofa-cushions embroidered in gold, doyleys, curtains, etc. One
wishes to buy them all; but one reason why I hate to go to the
bazars is, that if you have made a purchase, no matter how long
before, the man always remembers you, and tears out after you,say-
ing, You buy of other people, why you not buy of me? If they
ask four pounds, offer them two; after a great deal of wrangling
they generally give in; they expect only half what they ask.
The donkeys are so cute; but they beat them so that the donkey
generally has some raw, red spot, where his man is especially fond
of jabbing him with the end of the stick. There is a delicious candy
made here, like marsh-mallow, called Turkish delight.
The other day I went to an Arab wedding, in a private house;
the rooms were beautiful; the bride's bed was hung with white
goods and orange blossoms; the spread, satin worked in gold; the
bridegroom was a widower; the bride was about fifteen, and looked
very frightened; she had a train in front as well as behind, which
was held up for her when she ascended her throne; she wore ostrich
feathers in her hair, and in front of them a greatmany diamond pins.
All the ladies (no men were present) were turned out of the room
then, and, after waiting a while, along came the bridegroom with a
group of friends; money was scattered on the ground (more candy
than money) for his slaves. He then went upstairs to meet the
bride; poor man, he had never seen her before -just think of it.
Very few women show their faces in the street; they show only
their eyes; they carry the children on their shoulders. The other
day I saw a woman with a flat basket balanced on her head, and in
it sat a small baby, looking around in an easy way, holding to each
side with her little hands. The children's eyes are always covered
with flies; the people are too superstitious to brush them off, and"
they get right in their eyes and stay there; almost all have trouble
with their eyes. The better class of women ride in coupes, the
windows pulled down so they can just see out, and no one can see
in very well. They wear white lace over their noses and mouths,
very thin, so you can see the features; one or two men in gay
clothes run before, dressed in cloth worked in gold or silver; their legs
are bare, they carry handsome, slender sticks, and call out to clear
the way for the coming carriage. Some of the English or Americans
also have these men to run before their traps; it looks very pretty
and oriental, but the men do not live long, as they die of heart-
disease, the running is so hard.
When I spoke of the wedding, I meant one of the best class, of
which very little is seenin Cairo. You have to smoke the cigarettes
they pass you, or else they feel insulted. Louise C- .
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little yellow dog, with no tail and
no ears. My name is Toto, and my little mistress (of whom I am
very fond) is Rosine. Rosine has a cat, and this cat has just had
some kittens, and I like them very much. When I saw the cat carry
them, I thought I would like to try and see if Icould. I could not carry
them very well at first, but now I can carry them very much better
than their mother. I like going out very much, and when Rosine
goes out and leaves me, 1 feel very miserable. Though I like going
out so, I do not like going with any one but Rosine and her mother
and father, and sometimes people try to force me, but I will not go.
I am a little French dog, and can understand only a little English.
I sincerely hope this is not too long to put in the Letter-box."
Your little dog-friend, ToTO.
SALT LAKE CITY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As we have never seen any letter from Salt
Lake we thought that we would like to see one in your "Letter-
box." We read your story, How the Hart Boys Saw Great Salt
Lake," and thought it a very true description of that day, as we
We have two bathing resorts, Garfield, which is run by the Mor-
mons, and Lake Park, which is run by our people. The bathing is
said to be the best in the world.
We enjoy your magazine very much.
We attend Rowland Hall, a very nice school, for girls only.
Good-bye, MAUD AND IMARIE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My uncle gave you to me for a Christmas
present, and I enjoy you very much.
Iam staying with my grandma and grandpa, four miles from Floyd.
At my home, I have a very pretty canary. His name is Bobby
Shafto,' but I call.him Bob for short. He is all yellow, and is a
beautiful singer. He had a dark ring around his neck, but it is
all gone now. He is very tame, and will eat from my lips. His
cage door is open all the time, and he perches on our heads, and
sometimes comes down to breakfast. He is very jealous of my three-
year-old sister, Bessie.
I made the paper ball, and intend to make some of colored paper,
to hang up.
With best wishes, your little friend, DORA W .
ROGERS PARK, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wrote to you once before, but as my
letter was not printed I thought I would write again. Every month,
as soon as you come, I go up to the drug-store to get you. When I
come back I sit down and read you. I am reading the story, "Drill:
A Story of School-boy Life," and I like it very much.
I should think the General would have been mad when the boys
broke the broomsticks on their knees. I belong to a company
myself, and the captain made all the guns himself. I am only eight
years old, so excuse all mistakes.
Good-bye, EDWARD S. C- .
WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I write this letter to you, to describe a trip
I made to the top of the dome of the Capitol, here in Washington.
Outside of the dome, a person looking at it would say its height was
about two hundred feet, while in reality it is over three hundred feet.
I counted the steps on my way up, and found the number of them to
be just three hundred and fifteen. Each step is about one foot in
height, so that the dome is over three hundred feet in height. The
flight of stairs is very tortuous; it winds around and around. The
moment a person steps out upon the little circular piazza at the top,
he is struck with the grand panorama that lies spread out before him,
like a feast of good things, upon which he can feast his eyes. From
the Capitol as a center, the beholder sees the broad avenues and
streets radiating to all points of the compass. The White House looks
like a doll-house, the Treasury building like a small piece of marble,
and the new pension-office building (made of brick) looks like a
pressed brick lying on the ground. People look like flies. In the
background of the beautiful picture lies the placid Potomac, backed
up by the Virginia hills.
There is much more I might describe, but I fear I have wearied
my readers (if I have any) already. I write this letter with a feeling
r. r .. two reasons, viz.: First, because the subject is such
S ., nd second, because I write so badly.
A constant reader, JOHN C-- .
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You must not think because I live in Con-
stantinople that I am a Turk. I am an American.
This is my first letter to you. This is the first year I have taken
you, and I enjoy you very much. One of my favorite stories is
How the Yankees Came to Blackwood." Little Lord Fauntle-
roy," of whom so many of the letters speak, came before I look you,
but I have a bound volume of it. So I know how much they must
have enjoyed it. I was looking at it to-day. My letter is growing
long, and I must stop. I am ten years old, and my name is
HARRY H. B-.
YONKERS, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two friends, who both think you
a delightful magazine, and have taken you for two years. Yonkers
is a very pretty little city on the Hudson, and being built upon
many terraces, is sometimes called the Terrace City.
One of us has a goat named Pepper, and a little wagon in which we
drive very often. The late blizzard left a great many large drifts,
some being ten or twelve feet high. The trains were blocked for
three or four days, and no mails could be delivered. The grass is
now growing green, and the trees beginning to bud, of which we are
very glad, as they show the signs of returning spring.
Within the last few weeks, the new railroad connecting with the
elevated road in New York has been completed.
We both enjoyed the stories of Little Lord Fauntleroy," "Juan
and Juanita," and think all others delightful. With best wishes for
ST. NICHOLAS, we both remain,
Your interested readers, MADGE D. AND APOL E- .
NEWPORT, R. I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for a long time, and I
like you more and more all the time. My precious Papa has gone
away to sea, and I have not seen him for nearly two years, but all this
time I have sent you to him. I paint a picture for him and mark
the story I like best. So you have been all around the world with
him, and now you are going to Africa, for Papa's ship is ordered
there. I wish I could go with you, because I want to see Papa so
Now I will tell you about the pets on Papa's ship. The sailors
have a monkey, two pigeons, a Madagascar cat named Tommy, a
beautiful black cat called Tom, a little cinnamon monkey called Jock,
two puppies called Bah and Per. Every evening they go where the
officers smoke and have a regular play.' The little dogs try to catch
Tommy, but he is too quick for the fat little balls; he jumps over
their backs and pulls their tails. I have not time to tell you half the
lovely things Papa writes me, about his ship and the pets.
I want to ask you to please print this letter, because I want my
Papa to see it in the ST. NICHOLAS as a great surprise. Papa gives
you to the sailors, to read.
I think "Juan and Juanita and "Lord Fauntleroy" the best
stories I ever read.
I have only one brother and one sister. Papa is my big brother,
and Mamma is my small sister.
I am going to take you as long as you live. Iam seven years old.
Your loving little friend, LAURA K-.
P. S.- My best doll is named Queen Victoria.
DEAR ST. NICHOLA : I have taken you for six months. Among
my favorite stories are "Edward Athoy," "Trudel's Siege," and
"Three Miles High in a Balloon." I suppose I like the latter so
much because I saw a man jump from a balloon, with the aid of a
parachute, at a height of between one and two thousand feet. He
landed unhurt, but he tore his parachute a little. His balloon was
about seventy-five feet high and fifty feet in circumference. I am
thirteen years old. 1 like you very much.
Your interested reader, J. B. S .--
My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for nearly six years,
and I think you are the best magazine ever published. I liked
"Sara Crewe" very much, and I like all of Miss Alcott's stories. I
live in a lively Western city, where the people do nothing but talk
real estate and pore over new-addition plats. I go to the Garfield
University, but board at home. It is so different from any school I
ever went to. I am twelve years old, and never wrote to you before.
Your untiring reader, PLUMA K-.
WE have received interesting letters from the young correspond-
ents whose names are printed below:
"Dollie," Arthur E. F., A. Burr, Helen B., Daisy Seller, F. and
J., Alice Jenckes, Stanley A. Beadle, Agnes, Joe, and Elinor, M.
M., Ethel Gould, Bessie Bower, Helen W. H., Janet H. Stewart,
Minnie P. R., Grace E. Hulse, Sadie Crane, L. Judith Montague,
Miriam Holz Ware, Belle Adams and Edie Bowers, Birdie Netter,
Alice L. Fairweather, Bertha, B. and L., Rachel C. Gwyn, D. F.,
M. M., Louis A., James H. Cayford, Mabelle L. V. M., Harry
Closson, Eddie Simmons, Elsie C. B., D. P., Callie V. Mason, Olive
May Perry, Ethel R. Tebault, Beulah B. Whitcomb, Myla Jo Clos-
ser, Mamie A. Case, Sadie Nichols, Marion F. Nichols, Helen
Hunt, Harriet M. Burnett, Edwin M., Willie C. Megarge, K. Young,
Mamie L. Wilson, Alma Belle Connell, S. S., Winifred Davis, Elea-
nor M. B., Charles E. Wilson, Louise M., Susanna G., Irma Cop-
page, Martha C. and Eleanor H., Carlotta C. Read, Hester Coch-
rane, Edith H. Gage, Mary Bell Street, D. 0., and D. F.
II ~I 'q
-" c.. i,
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER.
ABSENT VOWELS. The Month of Roses. s. A drowning man HEXAGONS. I. I. Atad. 2. Tacit. 3. Acacia. 4. Dickens. 5.
will catch at a straw. 2. The other party is always at fault. 3. A Tierce. 6. Ancle. 7. Seer. II. i. Stem. 2. Togas. 3. Egeria.
great city is a great solitude. 4. Human blood is all of one color. 4. Marengo. 5. Singer. 6. Agent. 7. Orts. III. I. Flam. 2.
5. He that converses not, knows nothing. 6. Honey in the mouth Laban. 3. Abodes. 4. Madison. 5. Nestle. 6. Soles. 7. Nest.
saves the purse. 7. Water run by, will not turn the mill. 8. Drink A PECULIAR PI.
is the itsher of death. 9. The froofof the pudding is in the eating. Hear the skylark in the cloud,
xo. Give that which you offer. 11. Good words cost nothing, but Hear the cricket in the grass,
are worth much. 12. Fancy may bolt bran and think it flour. 13. Trilling blitheness clear and loud,
A kind word costs no more than a cross one. 14. Long is the arm Chirping glee to all who pass.
of the needy. 15. More haste, less speed. Oh, the merry summer lay!
WORD-SQUARE. I. Pagan. 2. Agave. 3. Games. 4. Avert. Earth and sky keep holiday.
DOUBLE CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Dandelion, mistletoe. Cross- Hear the leaves that kiss the air,
words: x. maDMan. 2. plAIce. 3. coNSul. 4. reDTop. 5. Hear the laughter of the bees:
whELks. 6. taLEnt. 7. goITre. 8. stOOps. 9. siNEwy. Who remembers winter care
CHARADE. Cast-a-net. In the shining days like these?
EASY BEHEADINGS. Boone. i. B-ear. 2. O-pen. 3. 0-men. Oh, the merry lay of June!
4. N-ice. 5. E-den. All our hearts are glad in tune.
ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Cleopatra. i. danCers. 2. Mrs. A ugusta Davies Webster.
vioLets. 3. pigEons. 4. corOnet. 5. sliPper. 6. pyrAmid. 7. A LETTER PUZZLE. Begin at C in cap: "Coronation of Queen
hunTers. 8. actRess. 9. cavAlry. Victoria." CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Vernet.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. EASY CUBES. I. From I to 2, carpet; 2 to 4, teapot; I to 3,
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; chased; 3 to 4, direct; 5 to 6, yeasts; 6 to 8, serves; 5 to 7, yonder;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 7 to 8, roasts; x to 5, cloy; 2 to 6, tars; 4 to 8, tubs; 3 to 7, deer.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Cross-words : I. AlhambrA. 2. LadlefuL. II. From i to 2, cables; 2 to 4, stamps; i to 3, closet; 3 to 4,
3. HiccougH. 4. AlhambrA. 5. MainbooM. 6. Ball-cluB. 7. tramps; 5 to 6, season; 6 to 8, neatly; 5 to 7, shadow; 7 to 8,
RecordeR. 8. AihambrA. wintry; I to 5, cabs; 2 to 6, sign; 4 to 8, slay; 3 to 7, trow.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th 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 APRIL NUMBER were received, before April i5th, from Maud E. Palmer-A. Fiske and
Co. Latin School Cadet" Grace Kupfer- Socrates" "Solomon Quill "- Russell Davis Infantry --Nellie and Reggie-
" Wlloughby "- K. G. S. H. A. R. Walter T. Murdock F. W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April i5th, from Louise McClellan, 15- M. Snowdrop, S.,
2--" Romeo and Juliet," i R. Weeks, i- E. K. Dunton, i F. H. T., 2- Genevieve, 2 E. B. Post, i M. P. Earle, i Minnie,
i Willie, i W. L. Diller, F. Stettaner, i Alma F. Durant, 3- W. P., 2 -Harlan H. B., A. Lowell, M. K. E., i -
Florence D. and Grace W., i Elfie," i George B. M., 2 Marie D. Grier, 2 Harry H. M., 2 Arthur Bredt, 2 I. G. Bitely,
S- A. Omega," 7- M. C. and E. M., I W. Lieber, i B. Ball, I Little Betsey," i Ella S. Wilkins, 2--Jessie, I- E. P.
Babcock, i A. C. Bowles, K. Anger, i Millie Day, 3- Willie Volckhausen, S- K. R. Porter, i "Sigma and Beta," 2 Alice
Faran Wann, 5 L. P. Coleman, i No name, Phila., 4 E. Armer and A. Morris, C. D. C., 2 Louis A., I- C. and K. Camp-
bell, 1- Anna Kaltenbach, s M. Cleary, i- Paul Reese, 12 E. F. McC. and A. 0., 5 -Louise Armington, io- L. M. Butler, I -
"Juan and Juanita," I-F. Sybil M., M. C. and H. C., Nell R., 7- Douglas, Myrle and t ..;- 1 --" Methusaleh," 4-
H. C. Cushing, x -Harry Closson, 2 -H. F. Worden, I--A. Burr, i -M. M., I- S. F., 2- I i. I ..., 12- "Toots," 6-
"Skipper," 7 "Patty Pan and Kettledrum," 4 Sally Lunn," 12- Sailor," 4 N. H. Mundy, i May and 79," I1 Ida Allen,
S- Geo. R. Dunham, 2- Elsie Venner," A. A. Squires, 3- Emma, --M. Green, i R. D. Humphrey, 2--Edith Wood-
ward, 3-J. R. Flemming, Effie K. Talboys, 7 -James A. Harris, 3 Shullsburg Third Grade, 13- Ellie and Susie, 6 -J. C. F.,
S- Rosa and Jesse Mayer, 3- A. H. and R., 5 Alpha, Alpha, B. C.," 6-V. P. Conklin, 5 Robert and Ruth, 13 G. and
Potpourri," I Rose, 4- Edwin Fullam, i -Jennie S. Liebmann, 8 Twin Elephants," 5- Pussy Willow," 7 Grandma,"
4-No name, 9-C. and K. Campbell, i- Miss Flint," 13- "Betsy Prigg," 8-C. C. Norris, 2 -Runyon, n-"Lehte," 14-
" Donna D.," 3 Henry and Harry, r E. Clark, 2- Jo and I, 12-- Laughing Water," I Mamma and Marion, 4 Kafran Emera-
wit, 13 -AlphaZate, 7- E. J. H. and R. H., 14- W. S. and A. E. Turpin, 3- Damon and Pythias," 2-Nellie L. Howes, 13-
M. E. R. C., 13-" Hypatia," I- Eureka," 7- L. S., I- E. M. S., 8 M. Osbourn.
EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters.
When these have been rightly guessed, and placed one below the
other, the zigzags (beginning at the upper left-hand corer) will
spell a famous event which took place on July 21, nearly thirty
COSS-WORDS : I. An obstruction. 2. Much used nowadays.
3. A wager. 4. The goddess of revenge. 5. To saunter. 6. A
retreat. 7. The fifth sign of the zodiac. 8. Frequent. 9. To
request. o1. To place. Ir. Forty-five inches. 12. A quadruned
with palmate horns. 13. A covering for a floor. 14. To drone.
15. Part of a fish. KITTY M. iM.
I AM composed of fifty-six letters, and form a sentence from a
My 4i-31-I6-2 are all the same vowel. My 8-36-6-51-22 is a
color. My 34-49-54 is the sound made by a cannon-ball passing
swiftly through the air. My 43-39-20-53 is a fight. My 47-48-24-
26-19-25-37-I3-9-15-55 is an ally. My 18-27-35-52-21-37 is the
surname of a President of the United States. My 40-3-19-50-33-
42-56 was the scene of a battle December 26, 1777. My 14-30-23-
32-5-48-7 is the name of the Secretary of War during Lincoln's
administration. My 11-42-28-5 1-12-41-44-35-1o is the name of a
place near Wilmington that was captured on Jan. iS, 1865. ly
54-38-17-9-46-4-20-29 is the name by which the first battle of Bull
Run is sometimes called.
FRITs, Alpri, hes thiw lomwel howsers
Spone eth wya rof rayle slowref;
Hent trafe erh mesco limnsig Mya,
Ni a rome chir dan weste rayra;
Texn sentre Jeun, dan gribns su remo
Gesm hant hoste wot hatt twen reefbo;
Hent, stally, Juyl scemo, dan seh
Remo thelaw grinsb i n ath lal shote there.
Tht ,,d b~cm s 1,ght tht 5s ch,,rflly bm,.
L. L. H.
OCTAGON. the Netherlands, taken, in 1573, after a seven months' siege, by the
Duke of Alva. 4. A resort for blockade-runners during the civil
i. ANCIENT. 2. Long beams. 3. To act. 4. The flat jutting war. 5. The British commander who gained the victory called by
part of a cornice: 5. That which drains. 6. A horse. 7. To the English the Battle of the First of June." 6. A naval officer
wander. EUREKA." of the highest rank. 7. One of the thirteen original States. 8. The
CROWN PUZZLE. successful commander at Culloden. 9. A famous Seminole Indian.
to. An eminent English statesman, sometimes called "The Great
S, Commoner." xr. The State whose motto is Ad astra per aspera."
ACROSS: i. An exclamation (two letters). 2. A conference be-
tween two persons (eight letters). 3. What a prisoner has to look
out through (two words). 4. To assemble. 5. Old age. 6. Inter-
vals of time. 7. The last eight-ninths of a r .-. .. ..-: r a .1-1.
The two central rows, reading downward. i :I" 'I: -.. .: I
two modern American authors. LOUISE MCCLELLAN.
To SOLVE this charade one must go by the sound;
Who follows the spelling will soon be aground!
My first has the face to serve as disguise
To hide my first-second from curious eyes;
But third of thefirst he surely will need
In joining thefirst, fourth and third, to succeed,
For-unless I dofourth- with no first, though a quest
Forfirst second third he 's not fittingly dressed.
To frstjoin the second, to these add the third,
Then finish withffourth, and you have the whole word.
But, if its full meaning be well weighed and reckoned
You 'll find it no more than simplyfirst second!
And a word-sparing poet, if worst comes to worst,
Can express the whole word by using my first.
EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters.
When these have been rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, the central letters will spell the name of a famous Florentine
CROSS-WORDS: I. Wants. 2. Trail. 3. Towed. 4. Full of
life and mirth. 5. A color. 6. A certain forest, familiar to readers
of Shakspere's plays. 7. Peevish. 8. A boy's name. 9. Derides.
xo. A navy or squadron of ships. ODD FISH.
ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.
I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: i. In browsed. 2. A verb.
3. A stigma. 4. Conclusion. 5. In browsed.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In browsed. 2. A cap-
sule of a plant. 3. The narrow sea-channel between England and
France. 4. A retreat. 5. In browsed.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In browsed. 2. A verb. 3. A
web-footed bird. 4. A cave. 5. In browsed.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND ; In browsed. a. A color.
3. To preclude. 4. A small lump. 5. In browsed.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND ; In browsed. 2. At once.
3. Impelled along the surface of water. 4. To marry. 5. In
browsed. CHANITO. "
THIS differs from the ordinary numerical enigma, in that the
words forming it are pictured instead of described. The quotation,
consisting of fifty-seven words, is taken from the Declaration of
MY primals and finals each spell the name of a signer of the
Declaration of Independence. CROSS-WORDS: i. Long loose overcoats. 2. Is urgent. 3. A
CROSS-WORDS (of unequal length): I. The Christian name of a smirk. 4. A territory of the United States, sometimes called the
President of the United States, elected within the past twelve years. Golden Summit." 5. To elect again. 6. Bodies of land.
2. A town of Spain near which the Spaniards were defeated by the The diagonals from i to 2 and from 3 to 4 spell a famous con-
French, commanded by Mortier and Soult, in 1809. 3. A city of federation. ANTHONY GUPTIL."
THE DE VINNE PRESS, PRINTERS, NEW YORK.
i ~~ %.~