Front Cover
 The story of the sea serpent
 "Ho, for Slumberland!"
 Two little confederates
 "Mr. Crowley"
 The quest
 Children and authors
 Little Ike Templin
 A Roman man-o'-war's man
 A bell-buoy's story
 An Aztec fragment
 Bob White
 Little Moccasin's ride on...
 The dear dolls
 The rhyme of the gowns
 Tom, Dick, and Harry on the coast...
 Old Dick
 Wrapping parcels without strin...
 The letter-box
 Report concerning "the king's move...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00202
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00202
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The story of the sea serpent
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
        Page 728
    "Ho, for Slumberland!"
        Page 729
    Two little confederates
        Page 730
        Page 731
        Page 732
        Page 733
        Page 734
        Page 735
        Page 736
        Page 737
        Page 738
    "Mr. Crowley"
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
    The quest
        Page 743
    Children and authors
        Page 744
        Page 745
        Page 746
        Page 747
        Page 748
    Little Ike Templin
        Page 749
        Page 750
        Page 751
        Page 752
    A Roman man-o'-war's man
        Page 753
        Page 754
    A bell-buoy's story
        Page 755
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
        Page 759
        Page 760
        Page 761
    An Aztec fragment
        Page 762
    Bob White
        Page 763 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 764
    Little Moccasin's ride on the thunder-horse
        Page 765
        Page 766
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
        Page 770
    The dear dolls
        Page 771
        Page 772
        Page 773
        Page 774
    The rhyme of the gowns
        Page 775
    Tom, Dick, and Harry on the coast of Maine
        Page 776
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
        Page 783
        Page 784
        Page 785
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
        Page 790
        Page 791
        Page 792
        Page 793
    Old Dick
        Page 794
    Wrapping parcels without string
        Page 795
    The letter-box
        Page 796
        Page 797
    Report concerning "the king's move puzzle"
        Page 798
    The riddle-box
        Page 799
        Page 800
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




.......................... ,



AUGUST, 1888.

No. 1o.

,J i

- - -

- erp nt. '41


-.. SUPPOSE that most
of the boys who read
-. these pages have at
,ii _" :'-- one time or another
I .. privately inquired of
friends of their own
'age, or friends who
'". are older, and there-
S2-. foresupposedtohave
..clearer judgments:
---- Come, noi, do you
really believe that there is any such thing as the
sea-serpent ?" The question is generally put in a
manner which leaves a fair opportunity for the in-
quirer to exclaim, Well, I do, too or I don't,
either !" according to the nature of the answer ex-
tracted. Three classes of persons may easily be
formed from intelligent and thinking people of all
ages : Those who believe that the statements we
possess (from one source or another) warrant the
conclusion that there are sea-serpents; those who

ridicule the idea that sea-serpents exist; and those
who do not know enough on the topic to properly
decide. But to any student of natural history the
sea-serpent question is one which well deserves a
careful sifting.
It is hardly necessary to say how old is the notion
that huge monsters of the snake sort make their
home deep in the seas, now and then showing
themselves to terrify mankind. In fact, if the
notion were not so old as to seem to find its source
in fables and mythological legends, one reason for
doubting the reality of the creature would be re-
moved. Most of these extremely ancient descrip-
tions come from the Northern lands, and the cold
oceans of Scandinavia. Thus, one ancient author,
Olaus Magnus, speaks of a sea-snake two hundred
feet long that rose from the waves, towered above
a ship's mast, and snapped up cattle and men in
its jaws. In the old Chronicle of Prodigies and
Portents," by Conrad Wolfhart, a German of the
sixteenth century, we find strange, rude pictures




of serpentine creatures, in which he put all due
faith; there is -the Alcete," an animal with a
scaly body and a head like a wild boar, and the
" Physeter," a horrible freak of the imagination,
which has a horse's head, the teeth of a dragon, and
the blow-holes of the whale. Wolfhart narrates
that in 151 B. C., on the coast of Sardinia, several
mighty snakes came up from the sea and attacked
vessels; but, as his picture shows the alarmed


crews discharging cannon at the foe some twelve
centuries before cannon were in use, there may
be other errors.
To come to later accounts. In 1639 an English
traveler named Josselyn, who came over to New
England on a visit, was told of a sea-serpent that
lay coiled on some rocks at Cape Ann, Massa-
chusetts. And it should be observed how early
Massachusetts waters and the New England coast
became the regions linked with
S appearances of the mysterious
"* creature. Some Indians who
rowed near this one, in a skiff,
were sorely frightened and
warned the Englishmen with
them not to fire at it, or they
would be in peril. Unluckily,
Mr. Josselyn was not of the
boat-party, and the result is
that we get this account only
by hearsay.
The next narrative of value
is a singular description by the
Rev. Hans Egede, a distin-
guished missionary to Green-
land, who records in his diary
in 1734, the rising to the sur-
face of the sea near his parish
of a "monster" so huge in
size that, coming out of the



water, its head reached as high as the mainmast.
It had a long, pointed snout, and spouted like
a whale. The under part of the body was shape
like that of a huge serpent. This remarkable
creature seems to have been more like a giant
squid than like any animal of the serpent kind
Two records of our mysterious monster, witl
plenty of details, soon follow. Joseph Kent, sea
man, beheld in Broad Bay, in May, 1751, a grea
serpent longer and thicker than the main-boom ol
his eighty-five-ton ship; and good Bishop Pontop
pidan, in his famous "Natural History of Nor
way," tells us that the Norwegian coast is the onl:
European shore visited by the creature; and that
formidable specimen, six hundred feet long, with it:
extended back looking like a row of floating hogs
heads, was chased by a boat's crew of eight sailor
under a certain Captain de Ferry, but that it escaped
Passing by the statement of Eleazar Crabtree
who declares that in 1778 he saw this shy swim
mer on the surface of Penobscot Bay, we reach
really important record dated the next year, 1779
In that year Commodore Preble (afterward
so famous as one of our naval heroes, but
then a young midshipman) pursued with a
boat and twelve seamen, a monster a sea-
serpent between one hundred and one hun-
dred and fifty feet in length, with a huge
head. Its motion was so rapid that it could
not be overtaken. It was observed at in-
tervals for an hour. It is at least odd, if
there was any deception, that one year later
Mr. George Little sighted what seems to
have been the same snake, in Round Pond,
Broad Bay.
You will see that we have now come to the
century in which we are living; for it is in
1802 that we meet our next witness to the
sea-serpent, Abraham Cummings. Abraham
Cummings declared that he knew of six ap-
pearances of the animal, all in the same
neighborhood, Penobscot Bay; and three
other persons said the same thing. In 1808,
a decaying carcass of something was found on a
Orkney Island beach. It had a wonderfully snak
look, but proved to be the remains of a remarkable
long and thin shark. But in this same year, Rev
Mr. Maclean, a clergyman of Eigg, sent a careful
description of a sea-serpent with a "head some
what broad," that swam with his head above
water, and with the wind for about half a mile:
before vanishing; he described it as seventy o
eighty feet in length. This must have been a trul
sea-serpentish and formidable creature.
There are nearly fifty stories, some from trust
worthy and some from scarcely reliable sources, a
to the comings, and goings, and showings of thi

ocean riddle, up to the year 1840. A large num-
ber are from the Massachusetts shore. The ser-
pent is generally described as coming into view
suddenly, on clear days when the sea was smooth;
and, however warlike its look, it was always readily
alarmed and departed swiftly and peacefully.
The Norway coasts, also, were not forgotten by
it. In 1848 the British ship Daedalus," under
Captain McOuahae, encountered a huge specimen,
seen distinctly by those on board the ship and
described by them with much care, in reply to
various scientific men who wished to investigate the
matter thoroughly. In 1875 the crew of the ship
"Pauline" encountered avast serpent, coiled twice
around the carcass of a sperm-whale, elevating its
neck and head in the air, and finally vanishing
below the water This rather startling story was
carefully examined into; and the statements seem
to be entirely correct.
On August 3d, of that year, 1875, we find one of
the most remarkable accounts of the sea-serpent's
advent on record. A party of well-known New



n England gentlemen and ladies, four in number,
y besides two sailors, from the deck of the small
y yacht Princess," while sailing between Swamps-
v. cott and Egg Rock, saw an animal that would
l certainly appear to have been no other than our
e- erratic friend. At a distance of about one hun-
e dred or one hundred and fifty yards from the
" yacht, from time to time a huge head, like that
r of a turtle or snake, rose six or eight feet above
y the waves. It was seen by all the party during
two hours. Other persons claim to have seen this
t- animal on the same day. One of the "Princess"
is party made a sketch of it, there being plenty of
is time to complete the portrait.


More interesting still, are the descriptions of the
serpent "striped black and white," with an ex-
tremely large head and rather flat, enormous,
projecting eyes, coarse scales and fins, seen by a
Captain Garton, of the steamer "Norman," July
17th, 1875, and also by a passenger on the steam-
ship Roman on the same day. This snake's
length was recorded as over one hundred feet, and


it was either pursuing a sword-fish, or being pur-
sued by him.
On July 15th, 1877, Mr. George S. Wesson and
Mr. F. W. Fernald caught sight of the animal
under especially favorable circumstances,- and
they gave vivid descriptions of its rough, scaly
skin, its back covered with the humpyy" pro-
tuberances that others have mentioned, and the
seething of the waves above it, as it rose and sank.

Singularly enough, these observers could not dis-
cover its mouth or eyes. It was of a dark color
and great bulk.
During the last ten years the sea-serpent has re-
appeared, according to accounts of greater or less
trustworthiness, several dozen times. Perhaps the
most remarkable and interesting are two very
recent accounts, both, in fact, only two years old.


On. June 17th, 1886, six men, while rowing near
Gloucester, suddenly saw a seal at a distance of
about sixty rods, sharply pursued by a creature
that seemed unmistakably of the serpent race. It
was sixty or seventy feet long, black, with a white
stripe under the throat, and it held its head some
three feet in the air. At one instant the seal was
seen to jump furiously from the water, to escape
the creature's attack. The pursuer seemed afraid


to enter shoal water, and so presently gave up the
chase, and quickly departed seaward again. The
men who watched this extraordinary scene are of
excellent character, and agree that by no possi-
bility' could their sight have been deceived. The
second narrative attracted more attention. Early
on the afternoon of August 12th, also of 1886, Mr.
Granville B. Putnam, of Boston, Mr. Calvin W.

Pool, and a large number of Gloucester residents
saw the monster for about ten minutes near Rock-
port. Its color was dark brown, and its length
apparently eighty feet, at least. No eyes could
be discovered. It swam with great speed, cutting
the water with what looked like a pair of sub-
merged fins; and its back presented the odd look
of humpiness," or a row of lumps along its

7, .. z-- "-----.

(Fronm a labdztg 6y Elihu Vedder.)



length, recorded by various observers. This sea-
serpent also appeared in the vicinity during the
following ten days. It is a particularly reliable
account in every respect. That autumn there were
also one or two other visits recorded, all dated
from the New England or the Norwegian coasts.
So runs the list of appearances of this singular
creature; and we have not given all. The same
peculiar "points" are repeated, of late years, over
and over, and the witnesses generally agree pretty
closely with one another. The serpent invariably
shows itself in the higher latitudes, and always in
summer or early autumn. As to length, color, gen-
eral appearance, motion, its curious harmlessness,
and so on, the different tales are strangely alike.

cleverly take a hint from the first paragraph of this
article for your benefit, and are content to ask the
writer for his own opinion, he will answer frankly
that he thinks it undeniable that there is some
extraordinary creature of the serpent species, at-
taining great size, and making its home in the
deeper and colder water of our northern seas,
above which it occasionally shows its timid head.
The ocean is a vast world by itself, and we do not
realize how little we know of it. But by all means
remember that it is summer-time again, and his
sphinx-like highness may be wandering near some
of our sea-shore resorts. A prize to the reader of
this paper who first interviews, without any mis-
understanding, the genuine and true sea-serpent !


,Z g0^W9"03loWf 3.3%i0& -





Certainly, if so many sensible and cool-headed
persons have been, year by year, deluded, there
is something in the sea-air besides a cure for hot
weather. Whatdoyou think? Ifyou are disposed to

Perhaps you are sitting on the sand, as you read
these lines. If so, now that you have finished, look
about you sharply. You may suddenly add your
own experience to the mass of testimony.

I \





A LITTLE song for bedtime, when, robed in gowns of white,
All sleepy little children set sail across the night
For that pleasant, pleasant country where the pretty dream-flowers blow,
'Twixt the sunset and the sunrise,
For the Slumber Islands, ho "

When the little ones get drowsy and heavy lids droop down
To hide blue eyes and black eyes, gray eyes and eyes of brown,
A thousand boats for Dreamland are waiting in a row,
And the ferrymen are calling,
For the Slumber Islands, ho !"

Then the sleepy little children fill the boats along the shore,
And go sailing off to Dreamland; and the dipping of the oar
In the Sea of Sleep makes music that the children only know
When they answer to the boatmen's
For the Slumber Islands, ho "

Oh take a kiss, my darlings, ere you sail away from me
In the boat of dreams that 's waiting to bear you o'er the sea;
Take a kiss and give one, and then away you go
A-sailing into Dreamland.
For the Slumber Islands, ho !"




THE gibes of Lucy Ann, and the occasional
little thrusts of Hugh, about the deserter busi-
ness," continued and kept the boys stirred up.
At length they could stand it no longer. It was
decided between them that they must retrieve
their reputations by capturing a real deserter and
turning him over to the conscript-officer whose
office was at the depot.
Accordingly, one Saturday they started out on
an expedition, the object of which was to capture
a deserter though they should die in the attempt.
The conscript-guard had been unusually active
lately, and it was said that several deserters had
been caught.
The boys turned in at their old road, and made
their way into Holetown. Their guns were loaded
with large slugs, and they felt the ardor of battle
thrill them as they marched along down the nar-
row roadway. They were trudging on when they
were hailed by name from behind. Turning, they
saw their friend Tim Mills, coming along at the
same slouching gait in which he always walked.
His old single-barrel gun was thrown across his
arm, and he looked a little rustier than on the
day he had shared their lunch. The boys held
a little whispered conversation, and decided on a
treaty of friendship.
Good-mornin'," he said, on coming up to
them. How 's your ma?"
Good-morning. She 's right well."
"What y' all doing ? -Huntin' d'serters agin?"
he asked.
Yes. Come on and help us catch them."
"No; I can't do that exactly; but I tell
you what I can do. I can tell you whar one is !"
The boys' faces glowed. All right!"
"Let me see," he began, reflectively chewing
a stick. Does y' all know Billy Johnson ?"
The boys did not know him.
"You sure you don't know him? He's a tall,
long fellow, 'bout forty years old, and breshes his
hair mighty slick; got a big nose, and a gap-
tooth, and a moustache. He lives down in the
lower neighborhood."
Even after this description the boys failed to
recognize him.
"Well, he 's the feller. I can tell you right

whar he is, this minute. He did me a mean
trick, an' I 'm gwine to give him up. Come
What did he do to you? inquired the boys,
as they followed him down the road.
Why -he-; but 't 's no use to be rakin'
it up agin. You know he always passes hisself
off as one o' the conscrip'-guards,-that 's his
dodge. Like as not, that 's what he 's gwine try
and put off on y' all now; but don't you let him
fool you."
We 're not going to," said the boys.
He rigs hisself up in a uniform --jes' like as
not he stole it, too,-an' goes roun' foolin' people,
mekin' out he's such a soldier. If he fools with
me, I'm gwine to finish him!" Here Tim gripped
his gun fiercely.
The boys promised not to be fooled by the wily
Johnson. All they asked was to have him pointed
out to them.
Don't you let him put up any game on you
'bout bein' a conscrip'-guard hisself," continued
their friend.
No, indeed we won't. We are obliged to you
for telling us."
"He ain't so very fur from here. He's mighty
tecken up with John Hall's gal, and is trying' to
meck out like he's Gen'l Lee hisself, an' she ain'
got no mo' sense than to believe him."
"Why, we heard, Mr. Mills, she was going to
marry you."
Oh, no, I ain't a good enough soldier for her;
she wants to marry Gen'l Lee."
The boys laughed at his dry tone.
As they walked along they consulted how the
capture should be made.
"I tell you how to take him," said their com-
panion. He is a monstrous coward, and all you
got to do is jest to bring your guns down on him.
I would n't shoot him-'nless he tried to run;
but if he did that, when he got a little distance
I'd pepper him about his legs. Make him give
up his sword and pistol and don't let him ride;
'cause if you do, he 'll git away. Make him walk-
the rascal! "
The boys promised to carry out these kindly
They soon came in sight of the little house
where Mills said the deserter was. A soldier's


horse was standing tied at the gate, with a sword
hung from the saddle. The owner, in full uniform,
was sitting on the porch.
I can't go any furder," whispered their friend;
"but that's him that's Gen'l Lee'- the triflin'
scoundrel! Ioafin' 'roun' here 'sted o' goin' in the
army I believe y' all is 'fraid to take him," eying
the boys suspiciously.
No, we ain't; you '1 see," said both boys, fired
at the doubt.
"All right; I 'm goin' to wait right here and
watch you. Go ahead."
The boys looked at the guns to see if they were
all right, and marched up the road keeping their
eyes on the enemy. It was agreed that Frank was
to do the talking and give the orders.
They said not a word until they reached the
gate. They could see a young woman moving
about in the house, setting a table. At the gate
they stopped, so as to prevent the man from get-
ting to his horse.
The soldier eyed them curiously. I wonder
whose boys they is? he said to himself. "They's
certainly actin'comical! Playin'soldiers, I reckon."
"Cock your gun- easy," said Frank, in a low
tone, suiting his own action to the word.
Willy obeyed.
"Come out here, if you please," Frank called
to the man. He could not keep his voice from
shaking a little, but the man rose and lounged out
toward them. His prompt compliance reassured
They stood, gripping their guns and watching
him as he advanced.
"Come outside the gate He did as Frank
What do you want ?" he asked impatiently.
"You are our prisoner," said Frank, sternly,
dropping down his gun with the muzzle toward the
captive, and giving a glance at Willy to see that
he was supported.
"Your what? What do you mean? "
We arrest you as a deserter."
How proud Willy was of Frank!
Go 'way from here; I ain't no deserter. I 'm
a-huntin' for deserters, myself," the man replied,
Frank smiled at Willy with a nod as much as
to say, You see,-just what Tim told us 1"
Ain't your name Mr. Billy Johnson ?"
Yes; that 's my name."
'You are the man we 're looking for. March
down that road. But don't run,-if you do,
we '11 shoot you !"
As the boys seemed perfectly serious and the
muzzles of both guns were pointing directly at him,
the man began to think that they were in earnest.

But he could hardly credit his senses. A suspicion
flashed into his mind.
Look here, boys," he said, rather angrily, I
don't want any of your foolin' with me. I 'm too
old to play with children. If you all don't go 'long
home and stop giving me impudence, I '11 slap you
over He started rather angrily toward Frank.
As he did so, Frank brought the gun to his
Stand back he said, looking along the bar-
rel, right into the man's eyes. If you move a
step, I '11 blow your head off! "
The soldier's jaw fell. He stopped and threw up
his arm before his eyes.
Hold on he called; don't shoot! Boys,
ain't you got better sense 'n that ? "
March on down that road. Willy, you get the
horse," said Frank, decidedly.
The soldier glanced over toward the house. The
voice of the young woman was heard singing a war
song in a high key.
"Ef Mellindy sees me, I 'm a goner," he re-
flected. Jes come down the road a little piece,
will you ? he asked, persuasively.
No talking,-march ordered Frank.
He looked at each of the boys; the guns still
kept their perilous direction. The boys' eyes
looked fiery to his surprised senses.
"Who is y' all? he asked.
"We are two little Confederates That 's who
we are," said Willy.
Is any of your parents ever- ever been in a
asylum ? he asked, as calmly as he could.
That 's none of your business," said Captain
Frank. "March on !"
The man cast a despairing glance toward the
house, where The years were "creeping slowly
by, Lorena," in a very high pitch,-and then
moved on.
"I hope she ain't seen nuthin'," he thought.
"If I jest can git them guns away from 'em "
Frank followed close behind him with his old gun
held ready for need, and Willy untied the horse
and led it. The bushes concealed them from the
d i .i..
As soon as they were well out of sight of the
house, Frank gave the order:
Halt They all halted.
Willy, tie the horse." It was done.
I wonder if those boys is thinking' 'bout shooting'
me? thought the soldier, turning and putting his
hand on his pistol.
As he did so, Frank's gun came to his shoul-
Throw up your hands or you are a dead man."
The hands went up.
"Willy, keep your gun on him, while I search


him for any weapons." Willy cocked the old mus-
ket and brought it to bear on the prisoner.
Little boy, don't handle that thing so reckless,"
the man expostulated. Ef that musket was to
go off, it might kill me! "
No talking," commanded Frank, going up to
him. Hold up your hands. Willy, shoot him
if he moves."
Frank drew a long pistol from its holster with
an air of business. He searched carefully, but there
were no more.
The fellow gritted his teeth. If she ever hears
of this, Tim's got her certain," he groaned; but
she won't never hear."
At a turn in the road his heart sank within him;
for just around the curve they came upon Tim
Mills sitting quietly on a stump. He looked at
them with a quizzical eye, but said not a word.
The prisoner's face was a study when he recog-
nized his rival and enemy. As Mills did not move,
his courage returned.
Good morning Tim," he said, with great po-
The man on the stump said nothing; he only
looked on with complacent enjoyment.
Tim, is these two boys crazy? he asked slowly.
They 're crazy 'bout shooting' deserters," re-
plied Tim.
"Tim, tell 'em I ain't no deserter." His voice
was full of entreaty.
"Well, if you ain't a d'serter, what you doin'
outn the army ? "
You know -" began the fellow fiercely; but
Tim shifted his long single-barrel lazily into his
hand and looked the man straight in the eyes, and
the prisoner stopped.
"Yes, I know," said Tim with a sudden spark
in his eyes. An'you know," he added after a
pause, during which his face assumed its usual list-
less look. An' my edvice to you is to go 'long
with them boys, if you don't want to git three loads
of slugs in you. They may put 'em in you anyway.
They 's sort o' 'stracted 'bout d'serters, and I can
swear to it." He touched his forehead expressively.
March on said Frank.
The prisoner, grinding his teeth, moved forward,
followed by his guards.
Each man sent the same ugly look after the other
as the enemies parted.
It's all over! He's got her," groaned John-
son. As they passed out of sight, Mills rose and
sauntered somewhat briskly (for him) in the di-
rection of John Hall's.
They soon reached a little stream, not far from
the depot where the provost-guard was stationed.
On its banks the man made his last-stand; but his
obstinacy brought a black muzzle close to his head

with a stern little face behind it, and he was fain
to march straight through the water, as he was
Just as he was emerging on the other bank, with
his boots full of water and his trousers dripping,
closely followed by Frank brandishing his pistol, a
small body of soldiers rode up. They were the
conscript-guard. Johnson's look was despairing.
Why, Billy, what in thunder -? Thought you
were sick in bed "
Another minute and the soldiers took in the
situation by instinct and Johnson's rage was
drowned in the universal explosion of laughter.
The boys had captured a member of the con-
script-guard !
In the midst of it all, Frank and Willy, over-
whelmed by their ridiculous error, took to their heels
as hard as they could, and the last sounds that
reached them were the roars of the soldiers as the
scampering boys disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Johnson went back, in a few days, to see John
Hall's daughter; but the young lady declared she
would n't marry any man who let two boys make
him wade through a creek; and a month or two
later she married Tim Mills.
To all the gibes he heard on the subject of his
capture, and they were many, Johnson made but
one reply:
Them boys 's had parents in a asylum, sure! "


IT was now nearing the end of the third year of
the war.
Hugh was seventeen, and was eager to go into the
army. His mother would have liked to keep him
at home; but she felt that it was her duty not to
withhold anything, and Colonel Marshall offered
Hugh a place with him. So a horse was bought,
and Hugh went to Richmond and came back with
a uniform and a saber. The boys truly thought
that General Lee himself was not so imposing or so
great a soldier as Hugh. They followed him about
like two pet dogs, and when he sat down they stood
and gazed at him adoringly.
When Hugh rode away to the army it was harder
to part with him than they had expected; and
though he had left them his gun and dog, to con-
sole them during his absence, it was difficult to keep
from crying. Everyone on the plantation was
moved. Uncle Balla, who up to the last moment
had been very lively attending to the horse, as the
young soldier galloped away sank down on the
end of the steps of the office, and, dropping his
hands on his knees, followed Hugh with his eyes
until he disappeared over the hill. The old driver
said nothing, but his face expressed a great deal.


The boys' mother cried a great deal, but it was
generally when she was by herself.
"She's afraid Hugh '11 be kilt," Willy said to
Uncle Balla, in explanation of her tears,-the old
servant having remarked that he believedd she
cried more, when Hugh went away, than she did
when Marse John and Marse William both went."
Hi! war n't she 'fred they '11 be kilt, too ? he
asked in some scorn.
This was beyond Willy's logic, so he pondered
over it.
Yes, but she 's afraid Hugh '11 be kilt, as well

That winter, the place where the army went
into winter-quarters was some distance from Oak-
land; but the young officers used to ride over,
from time to time, two or three together, and stay
for a day or two.
Times were harder than they had been before,
but the young people were as gay as ever.
The Colonel, who had been dreadfully wounded
in the summer, had been made a brigadier-general
for gallantry. Hugh had received a slight wound
in the same action. The General had written to
the boys' mother about him; but he had not been


'.J .- ..


as them," he said finally, as the best solution of
the problem.
It did not seem to wholly satisfy Uncle Balla's
mind, for when he moved off he said, as though
talking to himself:
She sutn'ey is 'sot' on that boy. He 'll be a
gen'l hisself, the first thing she know."
There was a bond of sympathy between Uncle
Balla and his mistress which did not exist so
strongly between her and any of the other servants.
It was due perhaps to the fact that he was the
companion and friend of her boys.

home. The General had gone back to his com-
mand. He had never been to Oakland since he
was wounded.
One evening, the boys had just teased their
Cousin Belle into reading them their nightly por-
tion of The Talisman," as they sat before a
bright lightwood fire, when two horsemen gal-
loped up to the gate, their horses splashed with
mud from fetlocks to ears. In a second, Lucy Ann
dashed headlong into the room, with her teeth
"Here Marse Hugh, out here! "


~~'~ '.:`--- J


There was a scamper to the door-the boys
first, shouting at the tops of their voices, Cousin
Belle next, and Lucy Ann close at her heels.
"Who's with him, Lucy Ann?" asked Miss
Belle, as they reached the passage-way, and heard
several voices outside.
"The Cunnel's with 'im."
The young lady turned and fled up the steps as
fast as she could.
"You see I brought my welcome with me,"
said the General, addressing the boy's mother, and
laying his hand on his young aide's shoulder, as
they stood, a little later, "thawing out" by the
roaring log-fire in the sitting-room.
You always bring that; but you are doubly
welcome for bringing this young soldier back to
me," said she, putting her arm affectionately
around her son.
Just then the boys came rushing in from taking
the horses to the stable. They made a dive
toward the fire to warm their little chapped hands.
"I told you Hugh war n't as tall as the Gen-
eral," said Frank, across the hearth to Willy.
"Who said he was ?"
"You! "
"I did n't."
You did."
They were a contradictory pair of youngsters,
and their voices, pitched in a youthful treble, were
apt in discussion to strike a somewhat higher key;
but it did not follow that they were in an ill humor
merely because they contradicted each other.
"What did you say, if you did n't say that? "
insisted Frank.
I said he looked as if he thought himself as tall
as the General," declared Willy, defiantly, oblivious
in his excitement of the eldest brother's presence.
There was a general laugh at Hugh's confusion;
but Hugh had carried an order across a field
under a hot fire, and had brought a regiment up
in the nick of time, riding by its colonel's side in a
charge which had changed the issue of the fight,
and had a saber wound in the arm to show for it.
He could therefore afford to pass over such an
accusation with a little tweak of Willy's ear.
"Where 's Cousin Belle?" asked Frank.
I s'peck she 's putting on her-fine clothes for
the General to see. Did n't she run when she
heard he was here "
Willy said his mother, reprovingly.
"Well, she did, Ma."
His mother shook her head at him; but the
General put his hand on the boy, and drew him
You say she ran ? he asked, with a pleasant
light in his eyes.
"Yes, sirree; she did that."

Just then the door opened, and their Cousin
Belle entered the room. She looked perfectly
beautiful. The greetings were very cordial- to
Hugh especially. She threw her arms around his
neck, and kissed him.
You young hero she cried. "Oh Hugh, I
am so proud of you! "- kissing him again, and
laughing at him, with her face glowing, and her
big brown eyes full of light. Where were you
wounded? Oh! I was so frightened when I heard
about it "
Where was it? Show it to us, Hugh; please
do," exclaimed both boys at once, jumping around
him, and pulling at his arm.
Oh, Hugh, is it still very painful? asked his
cousin, her pretty face filled with sudden sym-
"Oh! no, it was nothing- nothing but a
scratch," said Hugh, shaking the boys off, his
expression being divided between feigned indiffer-
ence and sheepishness, at this praise in the presence
of his chief.
No such thing, Miss Belle," put in the Gen-
eral, glad of the chance to secure her commenda-
tion. It might have been very serious, and it
was a splendid ride he made."
"Were you not ashamed of yourself to send
him into such danger?" she said, turning on him
suddenly. Why did you not go yourself? "
The young man laughed. Her beauty entranced
him. He had scars enough to justify him in keep-
ing silence under her pretended reproach.
Well, you see, I could n't leave the place
where I was. I had to send some one, and I
knew Hugh would do it. He led the regiment
after the colonel and major fell-and he did it
splendidly, too."
There was a chorus from the young lady and the
boys together.
Oh, Hugh, you hear what he says! exclaimed
the former, turning to her cousin. Oh, I am so
glad that he thinks so Then, recollecting that
she was paying him the highest compliment, she
suddenly began to blush, and turned once more
to him. Well, you talk as if you were surprised.
Did you expect anything else ?"
There was a fine scorn in her voice, if it had
been real.
Certainly not; you are all too clever at making
an attack," he said coolly, looking her in the eyes.
" But I have heard even of your running away,"
he added, with a twinkle in his eyes.
When ? she asked quickly, with a little guilty
color deepening in her face, as she glanced at the
boys. I never did."
Oh, she did exclaimed both boys in a breath,
breaking in, now that the conversation was within


their range. You ought to have seen her. She
just flew/" exclaimed Frank.
The girl made a rush at the offender to stop
He does n't know what he is talking about,"
she said, roguishly, over her shoulder.
"Yes, he does," called
the other. She was
standing at the foot of the
steps when you all came,
and oo o- oo -"
the rest was lost as his
cousin placed her hand
close over his mouth.
"There,there! runaway!
You are too dangerous.
They don't know what
they are talking about,"
she said, throwing a
glance toward the young
officer, who was keenly
enjoying her confusion. .
Her hand slipped from
Willie's mouth and he went
on. "And when she heard '
it was you, she just clapped l
her hands and ran-oo
-0oo -ummn."
"Here, Hugh, put them ''
out," she said to that ,
young man, who, glad to 1 Alf
do her bidding, seized both
miscreants by their arms
and carried them out, clos- i I
ing the door after them.
Hugh bore the boys into
the dining-room, where he i, '
kept them until supper-
After supper, the rest
of the family dispersed, (. '.
and the boys' mother in- I '
vited them to come with
her and Hugh to her own i'
room, though they were
eager to go and see the T.HE OLD DRIVER S
General, and were much
troubled lest he should think their mother was
rude in leaving him.


THE next day was Sunday. The General and
Hugh had but one day to stay. They were to
leave at daybreak the following morning. They
thoroughly enjoyed their holiday; at least the
boys knew that Hugh did. They had never

known him so affable with them. They did not
see much of the General, after breakfast. He
seemed to like to stay "stuck up in the house"
all the time, talking to Cousin Belle; the boys
thought this due to his lameness. Something had
occurred, the boys did n't understand just what;

i'. L


but the General was on an entirely new footing
with all of them, and their Cousin Belle was in
some way concerned in the change. She did not
anylonger run from the General, and it seemed
to them as though everyone acted as if he belonged
to her. The boys did not altogether like the state
of affairs. That afternoon, however, he and their
Cousin Belle let the boys go out walking with
them, and he was just as hearty as he could be ;
he made them tell him all about capturing the


deserter, and about catching the hogs, and every-
thing they did. They told him all about their
" Robbers' Cave," down in the woods near where
an old house had stood. It was between two ravines
near a spring they had found. They had fixed up
the cave" with boards and old pieces of carpet
" and everything," and they told him, as a secret,
how to get to it through the pines without leaving
a trail. He had to give the holy pledge of the
"Brotherhood" before this could be divulged to
him; but he took it with a solemnity which made
the boys almost forgive the presence of their Cousin
Belle. It was a little awkward at first that she was
present; but as the "Constitution" provided only
as to admitting men to the mystic knowledge,
saying nothing about women, this difficulty was,
on the General's suggestion, passed over, and
the boys fully explained the location of the spot,
and how to get there by turning off abruptly from
the path through the big woods right at the pine
thicket,- and all the rest of the way.
"'T ain't a 'sure-enough' cave," explained
Willy; "but it 's 'most as good as one. The old
rock fire-place is just like a cave."
"The gullies are so deep you can't get there
except that one way," declared Frank.
Even the Yankees could n't find you there,"
asserted Willy.
I don't believe anybody could, after that; but
I trust they will never have to try," laughed their
Cousin Belle, with an anxious look in her bright
eyes, at the mere thought.
That night they were at supper, about eight
o'clock, when something out-of-doors attracted
the attention of the party around the table. It
was a noise,- a something indefinable, but the
talk and mirth stopped suddenly, and everybody
There was a call, and the hurried steps of some
one running, just outside the door, and Lucy Ann
burst into the room, her face ashy pale.
"The yard's full' mens -Yankees," she gasped,
just as the General and Hugh rose from the table.
How many are there ? asked both gentlemen.
They's all 'roun' the house ev'y which a-way."
The General looked at his sweetheart. She came
to his side with a cry.
Go upstairs to the top of the house," called
the boys' mother.
"We can hide you; come with us," said the
Go up the back way, Frank 'n' Willy, to you-
all's den," whispered Lucy Ann.
That 's where we are going," said the boys as
she went out.
You all come on This to the General and

"The rest of you take your seats," said the
boys' mother.
All this had occupied only a few seconds. The
soldiers followed the boys out by a side-door and
dashed up the narrow stairs to the second-story
just as a thundering knocking came at the front-
door. It was as dark as pitch, for candles were too
scarce to burn more than one at a time.
"You run back," said Hugh, to the boys, as
they groped along. There are too many of us.
I know the way."
But it was too late; the noise downstairs told
that the enemy was already in the house i
As the soldiers left the supper-room, the boys'
mother had hastily removed two plates from the
places and set two chairs back against the wall;
she made the rest fill up the spaces, so that there
was nothing to show that the two men had been
She had hardly taken her seat again, when the
sound of heavy footsteps at the door announced the
approach of the enemy. She herself rose and went
to the door: but it was thrown open before she
reached it and an officer in full Federal uniform
strode in, followed by several men.
The commander was a tall young fellow, not older
than the General. The lady started back somewhat
startled, and there was a confused chorus of excla-
mations of alarm from the rest of those at the table.
The officer, finding himself in the presence of ladies,
removed his cap with a polite bow.
"I hope, madam, that you ladies will not be
alarmed," he said. You need be under no ap-
prehension, I assure you." Even while speaking,
his eye had taken a hasty survey of the room.
'.' We desire to see General Marshall, who is at
present in this house, and I am sorry to have to in-
clude your son in my requisition. We know that
they are here, and if they are given up, I promise
you that nothing shall be disturbed."
You appear to be so well instructed that I can
add little to your information," said the mistress
of the house, haughtily. I am glad to say, how-
ever, that I hardly think you will find them."
Madam, I know they are here," said the young
soldier positively, but with great politeness. "I
have positive information to that effect. They ar-
rived last evening and have not left since. Their
horses are still in the stable. I am sorry to be
forced to do violence to my feelings, but I must
search the house. Come, men."
I doubt not you have found their horses,"
began the lady; but she was interrupted by Lucy
Ann, who entered at the moment with a plate of
fresh corn-cakes, and caught the last part of the
Come along, Mister," she said, I '11 show



you, myself"; and she set down her plate, took
the candle from the table and walked to the door,
followed by the soldiers.
Lucy Ann! exclaimed her mistress; but she
was too much amazed at the girl's conduct to say
I know whar dey is! Lucy Ann continued,
taking no notice of her mistress. They heard her
say, as she was shutting the door, Y' all come
with me; I 'feared they gone; ef they ain't, I know
whar they is "
"Open every room," said the officer.
Oh, yes, sir; I gwine ketch 'em for you," she
said, eagerly opening first one door, and then the
other, "that is, ef they ain' gone. I mighty 'feared
they gone. I seen 'em goin' out the back way
about a little while befo' you all come,-but I
thought they might 'a' come back. Mister, ken
y' all teck me 'long with you when you go ?" she
asked the officer, in a low voice. "I want to be
I don't know; we can some other time, if not
now. We are going to set you all free."
"Oh, glory! Come 'long, Mister; let's ketch
'em. They ain't heah, but I know whar dey is."
The soldiers closely examined every place where
it was possible a man could be concealed, until
they had been over all the lower part of the house.
Lucy Ann stopped. "Dey 's gone she said
The officer motioned to her to go upstairs.
"Yes, sir, I wuz jes' goin' tell you we jes' well
look upstairs, too," she said, leading the way, talk-
ing all the time, and shading the flickering candle
with her hand.
The little group, flat on the floor against the
wall in their dark retreat, could now hear her voice
distinctly. She was speaking in a confidential
undertone, as if afraid of being overheard.
I wonder I did n't have sense to get somebody
to watch 'em when they went out," they heard her
She 's betrayed us! whispered Hugh.
The General merely said, Hush," and laid his
hand firmly on the nearest boy to keep him still.
Lucy Ann led the soldiers into the various cham-
bers one after another. At last she opened the next
room, and, through the walls, the men in hiding
heard the soldiers go in and walk about.
They estimated that there were at least half-a-
Is n't there a garret? asked one of the search-
ing party.
Nor, sir, 't ain't no garret, jes' a loft; but they
ain't up there," said Lucy Ann's voice.
"We '11 look for ourselves." They came out of
the room. Show us the way."
VOL. XV.-47.

"Look here, if you tell us a lie, we '11 hang
you "
The voice of the officer was very stern.
"I ain' gwine tell you no lie, Mister. What you
reckon I wan' tell you lie for? Dey ain' in the
garret, I know,- Mister, please don't p'int dem
things at me. I 's 'feared o' dem things," said the
girl in a slightly whimpering voice; I gwine
show you."
She came straight down the passage toward the
recess where the fugitives were huddled, the men
after her, their heavy steps echoing through the
house. The boys were trembling violently. The
light, as the searchers came nearer, fell on the
wall, crept along it, until it lighted up the whole
alcove. The boys held theirbreath. They could
hear their hearts thumping.
Lucy Ann stepped into the recess with her
candle, and looked straight at them.
They ain't in here," she exclaimed, suddenly
putting her hand up before the flame, as if to
prevent it flaring, thus throwing the alcove once
more into darkness. "The trap-door to the gar-
ret 's 'roun' that a-way," she said to the soldiers,
still keeping her position at the narrow entrance,
as if to let them pass. When they had all passed,
she followed them.
The boys began to wriggle with delight, but the
General's strong hand kept them still.
Naturally, the search in the garret proved fruit-
less, and the hiding-party heard the squad swear-
ing over their ill-luck as they came back; while
Lucy Ann loudly lamented not having sent some
one to follow the fugitives, and made a number
of suggestions as to where they had gone, and the
probability of catching them if the soldiers went
at once in pursuit.
"Did you look in here?" asked a soldier, ap-
proaching the alcove.
Yes, sir; they ain't in there." She snuffed the
candle out suddenly with her fingers. Oh, oh!
- my light done gone out! Mind Let me go in
front and show you the way," she said; and,
pressingbefore, she once more led them along the
Mind yo' steps; ken you see ? she asked.
They went downstairs, while Lucy Ann gave
them minute directions as to how they might catch
"Marse Hugh an' the Gen'l" at a certain place
a half-mile from the house (an unoccupied quarter),
which she carefully described.
A further investigation ensued downstairs, but
in a little while the searchers went out of the
house. Their tone had changed since their dis-
appointment, and loud threats floated up the dark
stairway to the prisoners still crouching in the little


In a few minutes the boys' Cousin Belle came
rushing upstairs.
Now's your time Come quick," she called;
" they will be back directly. Is n't she an angel! "
The whole party sprang to their feet, and ran
down to the lower floor.
"Oh, we were so frightened !" "Don't let them
see you." Make haste," were the exclamations
that greeted them as the two soldiers said their
good-byes and prepared to leave the house.
"Go out by the side-door; that 's your only
chance. It 's pitch-dark, and the bushes willhide
you. But where are you going?"
"We are going to the boys' cave," said the
General, buckling on his pistol; I know the way,

and we '11 get away as soon as these fellows leave,
if we can not before."
"God bless you!" said the ladies, pushing
them away in dread of the enemy's return.
Come on, General," called Hugh in an under-
tone. The General was lagging behind a minute
to say good-bye once more. He stopped suddenly
and kissed Miss Belle before them all.
Good-bye. God bless you! and he followed
Hugh out of the window into the darkness. The
girl burst into tears and ran up to her room.
A few seconds afterward the house was once
more-filled with the enemy, growling at their ill
luck in having so narrowly missed the prize.
We '11 catch 'em yet," said the leader.

(To be continued.)


itlKHU B1 /A '



A RATHER ingenious gentleman named Darwin,
of whom little folks may have heard, made up his
mind, after a deal of thinking, that the first man
was a monkey. Perhaps Mr. Darwin is right; but
one might be more sure about it, if a few family
portraits had been handed down. Nevertheless,
after going to see Mr. Crowley," one is almost
ready to admit that we are really descended from
monkeys; also, that we can not begin trying to
climb back to them any too soon.
Mr. Crowley can do so many things that neither
you nor I can do, and that we both would like to
do, that I sometimes think it would be rather nice
to be real monkeys !
To the little people of New York, most of whom
know him by sight and have attended his garden-
parties, if not his indoor receptions, Mr. Crowley
needs no introduction. But to those who live else-
where it may be well to say that Mr. Crowley is a
.monkey, a "Chimpanzee"; born of honest but
hairy parents, in Africa, nearly four years ago, but
now living in Central Park, New York. When he
was very young his mother confided him to the care
of the United States Minister-Resident at Liberia,
with whom he lived as a member of the home cir-
cle, acquiring courtly manners, until he was eight
months old. Then he was brought to America.
But in that early training and the excellent in-
fluences by which he was surrounded in Liberia,
we probably have an explanation of his good be-
havior now, and of the readiness with which he
takes to tracts, school-books,-or anything else
he can easily master and tear to pieces.
It may be that from "receiving" with his Min-
ister-Resident friend, Mr. Crowley got into his
habit of shaking hands. He puts out his great,
hairy paw to every one who visits his cage, and
if one does not respond at once to this hospi-
table invitation to come in, he tries to pull the
visitor through the bars, which, fortunately, are
so near together that it is not necessary to become
more intimate with his monkeyship than one
It must not be thought that Mr. Crowley came
to us with the highly respectable name he now
bears; and we know how much he is respected

from the fact that he never has been nicknamed.
Although people speak of Washington," "Cleve-
land," etc., no one ever omits the "handle" of
his name. He is always -r. Crowley.
And yet he is not dignified in his manner. So
much of his time is spent in turning somersets, that
his quarters, like those of one of England's great
dukes, might be called Somerset House." From
his performances on the trapeze, one might think
him a member of Barnum's circus, or of the Yale
or Harvard athletic club. At times he curls him-
self up on the floor and howls with colic, like a
child. Mr. Crowley has these stomach-aches so
often that I sometimes think him very human, in-
deed; and if he were a small boy, I have no doubt
he would use them many a time as an excuse for
staying away from school. But it 's seldom that he
can not eat when given anything good. This win-
ter, when he had pneumonia, he lost his appetite
entirely; and it was touching to see the look of
reproach he cast on a man who offered him some
hot-house grapes. It was as though he said: Is
this really doing the fair and square thing by a
sick monkey, -to offer him delicacies when he
can't eat?" But he recovered from his sickness.
and is now as well and wicked as ever. You will
notice that monkeys are like children the better
they feel the worse they behave. Perhaps, by the
way, Mr. Crowley owes his speedy recovery and
present good health to his never refusing to take
his medicine-from which children may learn a
lesson. When it was brought to him he never
complained, nor said he would n't take it. On
the contrary, he took it at once--in his eager,
outstretched hand smelled of it with a sub-
missive air, then threw it straight at the attendant
who stood by with tear-stained face. It was con-
fessed on all sides that medicine was seldom known
to go so directly to the mark.
One of the great comforts of Mr. Crowley's life,
perhaps the main thing that reconciles him to
being shut indoors when the weather is fine enough
to play out, is piling up sawdust. After a long
resting of his head on his hands, apparently in
deep study, he suddenly jumps up as though a
thought had struck him, retires to a corner of his


cage, and there piles up sawdust with great pains
and precision. I sometimes wonder if he fancies
it money-is devoting himself to the pursuit of
wealth! Or does it take the place, to him, of
school-and is he storing up algebra, grammar,
conic sections, and dead and dry languages-to
be all scattered and forgotten when next he turns
round? Whatever may be the practical use of all
this piling, it no doubt disciplines the mind, and
so is a thing' to be encouraged !
Mr. Crowley learns easily. Sometimes I think
he might reach distinction as a cook-a "good
plain cook,"-but as a housemaid he is not a suc-
cess. It occurred to his keeper (since sweep-
ing Mr. Crowley's cage and keeping it clean
was no little trouble) that Mr. Crowley might be

trained to do this for himself. So a b


brought and lessons were given in its us
the end of a whole course, he still persisted
the broom only on his keeper,-alwa
hold of it by the wrong end. Another t
he has in common with some children is t
work of any kind is really going on, n

induce him to take in it a more active part than
sitting by and looking on. If there were thought
of apprenticing him to a trade, I should say he 'd
make a very fair plumber.
Wonderful as is Mr. Crowley in most things,
astonishing as are his feats on the flying trapeze,
the chief attraction is to see him eat. Not that
he eats so much, or so awkwardly; but because of
the excellence of his table manners. Some are
born to a knife and fork, others achieve knives
and forks--but this monkey, you must remember,
had a knife and fork thrust upon him. He cer-
tainly was not born with a silver spoon in his
mouth, nor with a napkin in his hand. I am not
sure that even the missionaries and ministers-resi-
dent of Liberia have such luxuries. Yet Mr.

room was Crowley uses them all as though familiar with
them from the cradle. I am
a judge of table manners-
-. having, in my time, dined at
hotels, railroad restaurants,
-and other places where peo-
ple eat in a hurry -and I
greatly admire Mr. Crow-
ley's. He cuts his food into
pieces which are quite small
S. :. (compared with the size of
his mouth), takes his soup
noiselessly, and never wipes
his fingers on the table-
cloth !
All this proves that there
: is nothing new under the
sun. Oliver Goldsmith, who
wrote the "Vicar of Wake-
field," which you will read
some day, also wrote a bigger
book, called "Animated
~_ Nature." That was more
S than a hundred years ago,
before roller-skates and tri-
cycles were invented, before
SStanley had penetrated into
? the heart of Africa. Then,
even collections of postage-
stamps were unknown, and
there were no collectors -
perhaps because in those
days there were no postage-
WITH THE SAWDUST. stamps. Now instead of ar-
ranging his animals in groups
e. But, at under long Latin names, good Mr. Goldsmith
ed in using divided them off into "Animals of the Cow Kind,"
ys taking "Animals of the Goat and Sheep Kind," Ani-
rait which mals of the Monkey Kind," and animals of a great
that, when many other kinds. Among animals of the mon-
o one can key kind he describes what he calls the ourang-


outang, or wild man of the woods," and one of
these in particular, mentioned by Buffon, seems
to have been the Mr. Crowley of that day. I
have seen it," says Mr. Buffon, "give its hand
to show the company to the
door; I have seen it sit at
table, unfold its napkin, wipe .
its lips, make use of the spoon /;
and the fork to carry the vict-
uals to its mouth; pour out
its wine into a glass, touch .
glasses when invited."
Mr. Crowley, not long ago,
seized his keeper and bit his
arm. Now we animals of the
human kind are often guided
by what we call "taste," in-
stead of by what we know to
be right or wrong; but this
does not excuse Mr. Crowley.
He should not have tasted of
his keeper, even to find out
whether or not he liked him.
That is not the way in which
a gentleman takes a friend
by the arm," and of this Mr.
Crowley was made aware by
a box on the ear which sent
him howling into a corner,
where he boo-hooed like a
mortified child, and seemed
to repent of his impoliteness.
Speedy repentance usually
comes with speedy punish-
ment, and probably Mr.
Crowley will never again at-
tempt to monkey" with so
prompt a disciplinarian.
Mr. Crowley is too much a
monkey of the world to judge
of persons or things by first
sight. No-he judges by
first smell. And on anything
he can get to his nose he MI
is ready to pronounce an
opinion. If you gave him a story to read, he 'd
smell it instead. This way of reading, let me re-
mark, is not hard on one's eyes, and can be done
in the dark. And when I think how quickly dry
and improving articles such as every one writes
for children and no one reads-could be disposed
of by Mr. Crowley's simple method, I find myself
wishing that I had his nose.
Another advantage of being Mr. Crowley, would
be that one would have two pairs of hands to work
with I mean, to play with. For his feet are, in
in fact, hands; you might say that he took a thing

" in foot" just as well as to say that he took it
" in hand." If you passed under the pine-tree
where he sat perhaps busy with conic sections
-he could snatch off your hat without reaching


down his hands; or he could take off his own hat
to you without raising an arm. It is funny to see
him haul on a rope for one does not every day
see a four-handed sailor and I 'm sure, too, that
he'd be astonishingly handy to have on a farm.
But I do hope he will never turn up as a pianist.
Think how dreadful it would be if pianists could
play a duet by themselves, as it were Why,
there 'd be no comfort for anybody !
It is to be regretted that chimpanzees do not,
like children, grow nicer as they grow older. But
truth compels me to say that they do not. When




young, they are playful, frank, and confiding;
with age, they become morose, treacherous, and
revengeful. Whether or not it is experience with
the world which hardens their feelings I do not
know; but an old chimpanzee would be neither
pleasant nor safe as a playfellow. For the matter
of that, I 'd scarcely care to romp with Mr. Crowley
even. The strength of these big monkeys is ter-
rible. Though their arms look lean, they 're all
muscle; feel of Mr. Crowley's (if you care to), and

and throw stones when they fall out. Other ani-
mals scratch, kick, or bite; but only monkeys,
men, and boys take to clubs and stones. I 've
already told you what Mr. Crowley does with his
broom. I may add that, for want of streets in the
heart of Africa, young monkeys can pelt each other
only through the woods, which must be rather
Sometimes I wonder how it would be if the
tables were turned, and one of us were captured


you '11 get a good idea of what whipcord and
whalebone twisted together would be like.
If animals of the monkey kind only went on
growing sweeter and lovelier as they grew older, as
do those of the human kind, it would not be so bad
to have one for a grandpapa. But I 'd not care
to have a miserable chimpanzee take me up in his
arms, for there 's no saying in how many pieces
he 'd put me down.
One curious thing about these creatures, is that
they alone, of all the inferior animals, use clubs

by the chimpanzees. Would they put him in a
cage and make a show of him? Would they regret
that he was so ignorant of their ways, and try to
make him like one of themselves? Would they
try to teach him to crack nuts with his teeth--
and perhaps to scratch his ear with his right foot ?
Would they consider him as belonging to a lower
creation because, instead of being contented with
what was around him and piling up the sawdust
that lay ready to his hand, he kept reaching for
what was not in sight, and insisted on trying to

1888.] MR. CI

pile up pieces of green-backed paper that have
not even pretty pictures on them only portraits
of presidents, and that sort of thing ? Would they
think he wasted time in reading books and news-
papers, when, so far as they saw, he could get at
the best that was in the papers by only smelling
them ?
Mr. Goldsmith tells us that Buffon quotes Le
Brasse (a great traveler of long ago) as saying
that a negro boy was once captured by his "wild




THERE once was a restless boy
Who dwelt in a home by the sea,
Where the water danced for joy
And the wind was glad and free:
But he said, Good Mother, Oh let me go;
For the dullest place in the world, I know,
Is this little brown house,
This old brown house,
Under the apple-tree.

I will travel east and west;
The loveliest homes I '11 see;
And when I have found the best,
Dear mother, I '11 come for thee.
I '11 come for thee in a year and a day,
And joyfully then we '11 haste away
From this little brown house,
This old brown house,
Under the apple-tree."

So he traveled here and there,
But never content was he,
Though he saw in lands most fair
The costliest homes there be.
He something missed from the sea or sky,
Till he turned again, with a wistful sigh,
To the little brown house,
The old brown house,
Under the apple-tree.

Then the mother saw and smiled,
While her heart grew glad and free.
Hast thou chosen a home, my child ?
Ah, where shall we dwell? quoth she.
And he said, '' Sweet Mother, from east to west,
The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,
Is a little brown house,
An old brown house,
Under an apple-tree."


OWLEY." 743

men of the woods and carried off into the forests,
and kept by them for a whole year. But the negro
boy kept no diary, so we do not know what the
chimpanzees did. Perhaps they only stood about
his cage and studied him from the outside, and
then went off and wrote articles about him, as I
have done with this chimpanzee. But one good
turn deserves another; and if things keep on
evolving, it may yet be my good luck to have a
monkey for my biographer.



UTHORS are often said to belong to what
they call in Latin the genus irritabile,
or as we should say in English, the
Sirritable race." But those who find
f. pleasure in reading will prefer to
"' think of them as resembling that
distracted gentleman in John Leech's
Si 'I picture, who appears, pen in hand,
I at his study door to protest, ever so
gently, against the noise which his
children are making in the hall and
oon the stairs.
SIt is quite plain that he has been
Smoking frantic efforts to collect his
thoughts, for an hour or more,-
il i iii struggling, no doubt, to do the work
Which is to feed and clothe those
Boisterous young. ones. He stands
there in an attitude of despair, with
the very mildest expression of pro-
--- test on his face, saying, "Now, my
dear children, my dear children, do
be quiet! and when he withdraws
After his remonstrance, as the artist
leaves us to suppose that he does, let
us hope that the children will take pity on him and go away into the garden.
Irritable though they may be with others, authors are usually fond of children, and patient with
them. For instance, the poet Campbell was a man of violent temper, but he was all tenderness
and gentleness with young people.
One day in the park he passed a child with a face so beautiful that it haunted him, and he longed
to see it again. He sought and inquired, but in vain. Then he put an advertisement in the papers:
"A gentleman, sixty-three years old, who, on Saturday last, between six and seven P. M., met a most interesting-looking child, but
who forbears from respect for the lady who had her in hand, to ask the girl's name and abode, will be gratefully obliged to those who
have the happiness of possessing the child, to be informed where she lives, and if he may be allowed to see her again."

Now, Campbell had certain mischievous friends who decided to answer this advertisement, and
not knowing what other address to give they picked out the last name in the London Directory. The
next day the poet set out, expecting to see the lovely child. When he arrived at the house he was
shown into the drawing-room.
Madam," he said to the lady he found there, may I now be allowed to see your beautiful
offspring ? "
She looked at him with astonishment and indignation for a moment, and then rang for the servant to
show him to the door.
One remembers the friendship of Prince Henry, the eldest son of King James the First, for Sir
Walter Raleigh, who was a courtier, an explorer, and a man of science, as well as an author.


Raleigh was confined in the Tower of London for
fourteen years, and Prince Henry said:
"No one but my father would keep such a bird
in a cage."
One recalls, also, the child-friendships of the
French authors, Fenelon and Voltaire, as well as
those of the great German author, Goethe.
In the time of Queen Anne, there was a club in
London to which belonged nearly all the famous au-
thors of the town, and it was their custom every
year to elect some reigning beauty as a "toast."
One year they chose Lady Wortley Montagu,
who was then only eight years old. She was sent
for by her father, the Duke of Kingston, and the
gentlemen fed her with sweets, kissed her, and
wrote her name with the points of their diamonds
upon their wineglasses.
Late in life, when describ-
ing her experience, she
"Pleasure is too poor
a word to express my sen-
sations. They amounted
to ecstasy. Never again
throughout my whole life
did I pass so happy an
One is forced to think,
however, that it would
have been much better
for so young a child had
she been at home and in

shared; and, more than this, he had to endure
the taunts of those who despised him for his
homely face and dull mind. His face was pale
and pock-marked, and they thought that he was
a little blockhead because he could not learn his
lessons just as other boys do. It was easy to im-
pose upon him; to tell him cock-and-bull stories,
and then laugh at him for believing in them. He
was so simple, so confiding, so easily deceived
that they all thought he must be a fool; and,
shrinking from the ridicule they cast upon him, he
grew shyer and more awkward as the conviction
was forced upon him that their estimate of him
was right.
We know of only two occasions when he was
stung into a defense of himself, and then he spoke

Nearly all of the great- -
est modern authors have
left records of friendships
with children. Coleridge '
used to call children King-
dom of Heavenites, and a .
very celebrated critic has "
said, "A man, whatever. --
his mental powers, can .- ."'.-.-.
take delight in the society -
of a child, when a person
of intellect far more
matured, but inferior to
his own, would be simply
Going further back, we
who, himself a child in
many ways all his life, had a true affection for so well that, had they cared for him, they would
children, have seen that though he did not shine at school
Goldsmith was one of the eight children of a he was no dolt.
poor clergyman in Ireland who found it more Well, sir, when do you intend to grow hand-
than he could do to provide for so large a family, some? said one of his relatives, who was not one
The poverty his brothers and sisters knew, Oliver of the best of men.


I mean to get better when you do, sir," the
boy replied, with dignity.
Then when he was dancing a hornpipe in the
house of his uncle John, the person who was
providing the music called him Ugly AEsop."
Quickly enough Oliver retorted:
SOur herald hath proclaimed this saying,
See IEsop dancing and his monkey playing."

inn; and, as a joke, was directed to the house of
the Squire, where he called for supper and a room,
treating the inmates as though they were servants.
Not until he called for his reckoning the next
morning did he learn that he was in a private
house, and that the Squire, realizing the mistake,
had taken pleasure in humoring him in it. Long
afterwards he made this incident the motive of
"She Stoops to Conquer," one of the most de-

Still, his schoolmaster labored with him, and his lightful comedies ever written.

J'- -~


schoolmates laughed at him; and of all the boys
in the village he was regarded as the least promis-
ing. Whenever any one had a worthless toy to
sell, Oliver Goldsmith would buy it; -that is, if
he happened to have the money, which was not
often. He was as simple in such matters as Moses
Primrose, whose bargain in green spectacles may
be read of in The Vicar of Wakefield," and was
always being cheated and deluded.
Once, in his seventeenth year, he set out for a
holiday with a guinea in his pocket, a most un-
usual amount; and being detained, he found it
necessary to spend the night in a village some
distance from home. He inquired for the best
house in the village, meaning, of course, the best

Guineas and holidays were alike scarce, how-
ever, and when he entered college it was as a
"sizar," a name given to certain students who were
educated for a reduced sum, in consideration of
waiting at table and sweeping the halls. He had
to wear a servant's badge, and to endure the jeers
of those students who were more fortunate.
He was now poorer than ever, for his father
had died; but he eked out the allowance his
relatives made him, with the shillings he received
for ballads written for the street-singers. His
guardian angel had whispered to him, as Thackeray
says, and he not only found in himself a gift for
versification, but also a solace in exercising it.
Night after night he would leave the college to


hear his ditties sung, and then, meeting some
beggar in the street --a shivering child or a crying
woman-he would give away every penny he had,
forgetting his own hunger, his scanty food, and
the fireless room in which he had to work and
sleep. N.o doubt many who had laughed at his
sallow face and awkward manners would have said
that he was still a fool; and if it is folly to be
generous and unable to see suffering without at-
tempting to relieve it, he was a fool to the end of
his days.
After leaving college he looked for an opening
in several professions. He thought he would
become a clergyman, but the bishop would not
have him, it is said, because he presented himself
for ordination in a pair of red breeches; he set
out intending to study law in London, but was
fleeced of his money in Dublin he went to Edin-
burgh and entered a medical school, but left
without a diploma.
Then he crossed the Channel, and traveled on
foot through Holland, Germany, Switzerland,
Italy, and France. He had little or no money,
and poverty was his inseparable companion. He
claimed the hospitality of convents and monas-
teries; and when these were not to be found he
slept in barns, or, at a pinch, even under the
hedges. In Italy there were universities in which
on certain days various learned subjects were
discussed, and any stranger who showed skill in
debate was rewarded with a sum of money, a
supper, and a night's lodging. Like a knight-
errant of old, Goldsmith joined in these contests,
and sometimes won the prizes. But his chief
resource on his travels was a flute, which he played
passably well; and though fashionable city people
may have found his performances "odious," the
peasants before whose doors he lingered, and
especially their children, were always willing to
invite him in and give him food and shelter.
After a year, he returned to England, having
only a few half-pence in his pocket; and going to
London he attempted to practice as apothecary's
clerk. From this a friend rescued him, and at-
tempted to establish him as a physician for one
of the foreign universities had conferred a degree
upon him but patients were few and far between,
and while at their bedsides he had to hold his hat
to his breast to hide the hole in his coat.
Another friend found a place for him as usher
in a school; but the boys made his life miserable,
though he was kind to them and contributed to
their entertainment with his flute, and by telling
them the wonderful stories of which he had an
endless supply. He spent most of his small salary
in buying sweetmeats for them, and in relieving
beggars, until at last the headmaster's wife had to




ask him to let her take care of his money for
One day when he was playing his flute, he
paused to speak of the pleasure to be derived from
a knowledge of music, and of how much it adds
to the attractiveness of a gentleman in society.
"But surely you do not consider yourself a
gentleman! an ill-mannered and unfeeling boy
Slights of this kind caused him to look back
with intense pain to this period of life, though he
had some warm friends among the scholars.
Meeting one of them in the street, after he had
become famous, Goldsmith walked forward to
greet him. The scholar had reached manhood
and his wife was by his side, but Goldsmith could
think of him only as the schoolboy whom he used
to treat.
"I am delighted to see you, Sam," he cried.
Come, my boy, I must treat you to something.
What shall it be? Apples?" saying which, he
led the bewildered gentleman to an apple-woman
standing at the corner, intending to cram him with
fruit, as Goldsmith, then a celebrity, used to do
when a poor usher.
Ceasing to be an usher, he became the slave of
a bookseller, writing essays, poems, and stories, to
order. Though slighted at the time, these have
since been recovered and placed among the treas-
ures of English literature. A hard time he had
of it, little better, indeed, than when he was a sizar
at Trinity College, Dublin; and experience had
taught him no lesson in thrift which he cared to
remember. Improvident still, he would give away
his last penny though he needed it to appease his
own hunger.
A night-cap decked his brows, instead of bay;
A cap by night, a stocking all the day."

He lodged in Green Arbor Court, a miserable
house in a miserable neighborhood, and his clothes
were so ragged that he could go out only in the night
time. Often, when it seemed his head must split
from the noise made by the : -. .i.1-... women and
the romping children, he would go downstairs and
quiet them by playing his flute; and though his
fellow-lodgers and neighbors were poor and unedu-
cated, they all loved the unfortunate poet.
One day a distinguished visitor came to see
him,-no less a person than Thomas Percy, the
Bishop of Dromore. Goldsmith sat at a table
writing an "Enquiry into Polite Learning." (Just
think of it, an Enquiry into Polite Learning"
amidst such surroundings!) The only furniture
was a bed, a table, and the chair in which the
poet sat.
"While we were conversing," the Bishop has


written, "some one gently tapped at the door, and
being desired to come in, a poor ragged little girl
of a very becoming demeanor entered the room,
and, dropping a curtsy, said, 'My mamma sends
her compliments, and begs the favor of you, to
lend her a potful of coals.' "
Goldsmith was always willing to lend-and to

I I j i I'
||] J, I
l ,, |,, | |, I f l !i0! :, 1 1 I. ,.,, *

/ *! l l h ,i i
On another occasion the landlord of the same
house was dragged to jail for debt, and his wife
and children came to the poet begging that he
would help them. He had no money. What
could he do? Quite recently he had borrowed

some money to buy a new suit of clothes, so that
he might make a decent appearance in presenting
himself for examination at a hospital, in which he
hoped to get a situation. He bundled up the suit
and took it to the pawnbroker's, returning with
the money to relieve the distressed family. A
week or so later, he himself was again on the
verge of starvation.
One more story of his goodness,
and we shall be done. His genius
was at last recognized, and he
S became one of the great men of
I London society. One day, when
visiting at the house of Colman,
I the dramatist, he took his host's
i' |little son on his knee and began
S to play with him. The child did
S not like it, and slapped Gold-
S smith's face, for which he was car-
ried off in disgrace and locked up
i in a dark room. He bawled and
Kicked for deliverance, believing,
as he said in after years, that if
I nobody would pity him, some one
might release him if only to abate
i a nuisance.
i By and by the door opened, and
S Goldsmith himself appeared, with
S his face still red from the slap. He
S at once began to caress the offender,
S who continued to sulk and pout.
S Then he brought three shillings out
S; of his pocket and promised to show
a trick, for which purpose he found
three hats.
Sii These shillings," he said, are
England, France, and Spain. Now,
behold Hey, presto, cockalorum! "
II The shillings, which had been dis-
tributed, each under a different hat,
were suddenly and in the most mys-
terious way found all together under
one hat.
Ever after that, the boy and the
poet were the fastest friends; nor
did the latter ever visit the Colman
house that he was not entreated to
APPEARED." play Hey, cockalorum !"
It is well known that the works of Goldsmith
are among the noblest in the English language: but
there is one work for which children, especially, owe
him a debt, since he is said to have written the
wonderful story of Goody Two-shoes."



"'T is mighty rude to eat so much -but all's so good."-Pope.
A GOOD housekeeper was the widow Templin,
a good mother, a good mistress, a good neigh-
bor,-a good woman in general. Among her
negroes was one who had risen into some distinc-
tion in the family at quite an early age, and his
name was Little Ike. From his middle upward,
he was all that ought reasonably to be expected of
a negro baby; but his lower extremities were not
satisfactory. His legs, for some reason, although
not wanting either inform or longitude, were lack-
ing in fleshy and muscular development. So that
when he was as much as two years old, he had not
learned to walk, nor even firmly stand alone. He
was an excellent crawler, however, the vigor and
agility of his arms compensating well for other
deficiencies that might have obstructed or at
least delayed locomotion. Altogether, he was a
rather pronounced character for a person of his
age and social position. This pronouncement pro-
ceeded, for the most part, along the line of eating.
He had early evinced a fondness, that in one so
young might be characterized as almost remark-
able, for eatables, or for whatever he took to be
eatables, of every description that came within
reach of his hands or within sight of his eyes.
Those eyes had acquired the habit when not
obscured by sleep, or the dark, of rolling them-
selves around almost constantly in a way which led
to the suspicion that they were in search of some-
thing good. Those hands had learned, from an
extremely early period in his career, to extend
themselves in petitioning, and (I may as well con-
fess), sometimes, indeed, in grabbing, often in
stealing attitudes; though, in fairness, I should
.add that, down to this date (or up to it, whichever
is proper to say), they had never stolen anything
Except for the purpose or with intent to eat it, or
to try to eat it. It never could be accounted for
that he was so tardy in learning the use of speech,
for he had a voice which might be called tremen-
dous, when put forth to its best, as it often was
while he was suffering from physical pain or more
frequently from anger over a disappointment. In
understanding, there was not a person, white or
black, on the place who did not consider him fully

the equal of any negro baby, there or elsewhere,
within their acquaintance; while some old people,
as well as young, were boldly outspoken in the
opinion that he was superior to them all.
Upon development so irregular, Little Ike's
"mammy" used much to speculate, and not in-
frequently would she venture to indulge in pre-
dictions as to results.
"Dat boy"-she would say in the tone of a
woman who feels that she knows what she is talk-
ing about- dat boy ain' no common chile, ner
he ain' nuver be'n a common chile, not since he
be'n borned."
The nurse of Little Ike was his sister Till (a con-
traction of Matilda), some seven or eight years
older. Now, instead of the ardent natural affection
which ought to exist between sister and brother,
Till unfortunately felt great disregard for Little
Ike, and she honestly believed that this was the
most just and becoming feeling for her to indulge.
Yet, after much study and reflection in the
midst of a considerable number of unpleasant per-
sonal experiences, she had evolved a theory of
her own, in the soundness of which she had much
faith. Having to carry her charge in her arms or
upon her shoulders whenever a change of base
was necessary or desirable, she was wont to move
with such and only such degree of tender careful-
ness as she supposed (often erroneously) would
enable her to escape punishment for omissions in
that line of duty.
Till was whipped not only for her own mis-
demeanors, but also for Little Ike's. If Little Ike,
while in her charge, cried with violence, whether
the cause was apparent or not, Till was punished
for it. When his roguish hands were found to
have in their grasp an item of contraband eatable
property, down on Till's shoulders came the hickory
or the peachy-tree switch. Consequently, after
" toting Ike until she had become much fatigued,
she would set him on the ground, and address
him after this manner:
Mammy and dem need n't talk t' me en say
appetite de only marter wid you. It 's dat, but
top o' dat it's laziness, en on top o' dat it's mean-
ness, en wusser 'n dat. You too lazy t' larn t'
walk en talk, en you dat mean you des' natily love
t' have me lose my bref en break myself down a-

totin' you all over question; en den see mammy greedy. En I tell you now," she would add, lift-
a-layin de peachy-tree on me fer your meanness. ing her finger in solemn warning, "If you don'
Dat time you bit me, case I tuck out your han' dat min', de Bad Man '11 git you fo' you knows it."

__-- --- ~-- -

P, I''


green apple you stole out o' my pocket, you hol- Her reminder of the mirth in which he had in-
ler'd, you did, en soon 's mammy came at me dulged on the occasion referred to was just, and to
wid de peachy-tree, you hushed, you did, en you a degree excusable was her resentment therefore.
went to laughing Can' fool me 'bout you, boy; For while in general the sportive element in Little
you des' es lazy en you des' es mean as you is Ike's being appeared to have taken on almost no
you des' es lazy en you des' es mean as you is Ike's being appeared to have taken on almost no


development, yet he always seemed to feel the
highest satisfaction when Till was being whipped,
and evinced it sometimes by laughing aloud.
After setting him down, on such occasions, she
would give him something to gnaw; and, through-
out such space as she thought she might com-
mand, seek whatever amusements were to be had
therein. A cry from Little Ike, or a warning call
from her mammy, would make her hasten to the
central point of duty. Mrs. Templin had often
chided the mother for her indiscriminate inflictions
upon Till, and many a time they had been pre-
vented or lessened through her interference.

number of pebbles, from which she often selected
sets for a game called "checks," of which girls of
both races were fond. Growing tired of this sport
after some time, she thought she might scale the
garden-fence and make a brief expedition to the
strawberry-bed, whose fruit had just begun to take
on an appetizing redness. Little Ike showed, by
several unmistakable signs, his unwillingness to
be left alone; but, after one cry, he was reduced
to silence in a way which, if the suspicions against
Till were well founded, might be regarded as at
least novel and rather remarkable. Not more
than a few dozens of the young fruit had been

i 4 ','
',. ,, ;' ,1"i ', 1
1.11 ,,4s j ;t'I~ I ", h l

'I..i4b'rr~l j.r


i '


Great as was Little Ike's voracity, even his
mammy, who claimed to know him best, believed
that she had found, one day, that its vastness had
been underrated. The incident I am about to relate
was more than sufficient, not only to alarm a parent,
but to excite compassion in any person at all capa-
ble of sympathy with the sufferings of humanity.
After dinner, Till lifted Ike up, and took him
out for a limited excursion about the yard. In
a corner of the yard was a small thicket of
plum-trees and cherry-trees, in the shade of which
Till used often to rest with her charge, seated on
a couple of boards. She had piled there quite a

pulled and consumed, when the mother called
loudly to her from the kitchen. Till ran back in
such haste that, in recrossing the fence, she fell
sprawling, and did not answer the oft-repeated
calls until she had risen from the ground, when
she was seen by her mammy, who, breathing and
uttering fiercest threatening, ran to the thicket.
To her horror, there sat Little Ike, swaying his
body, kicking with utmost possible earnestness
and activity, moving up and down both hands,
filled with pebbles; while from his mouth pro-
truded a stone of such magnitude that no adult,
to say nothing of a baby, could have swallowed it.



~I '


Mrs. Templin, in answer to the mother's frantic
screams, soon reached the scene. Lifting Little
Ike from the ground, she repaired with all speed
to the house, followed closely by the mother, and
by the sister from afar. Mrs. Templin sat down
on a front step, the mother and Till on either side.
"T'ank goodness said the mother. "Dat
rock wuz too big for him to swaller "
On its withdrawal, which was not effected with-
out some difficulty, Little Ike repressed the scream
he had first thought to utter, and slyly putting forth
his hand he slid it into his sister's pocket, drew
therefrom a half-ripe strawberry, and before he
could be arrested, had plunged it into his mouth.
Mrs. Templin laughed aloud.
"Well, ef dat don' beat! Dat gal wan' to leave
dat boy, en go atter dem strawbays; en, ter keep
dat boy from holl'in', she qwam dat big rock in
he mouf; en efdey is peachy-trees enoughh in de
orchid "

"No, ma'am, mammy, no ma'am," began Till,
" I 'clar- "
"Stop, Till," said her mistress, "or you are
certain to make matters worse. Take the child
and go back to your. play, and try to mind better
what you do. You might have injured the poor
little fellow, and he your own brother at that."
"Mist'ess," said the woman in a tone of remon-
strance that was almost piteous, you ain' gwine
let dat huzzy off dat way, showly,- is you ? Nuver
you min' she called after Till, who was hurriedly
making off, "I 'll git you. You 'pen' on it. I '11
git you "
"No, Judy, you are not to whip her for that.
We 've all been too badly scared to feel anything
but thankful. Go back to the kitchen, and try to
be thankful instead of being so angry," said Mrs.
Templin. And Judy went her way, muttering,
"Bes' mist'ess a-Iivin'-but she alluz wuz too
easy wid dat gal."

(To be continued.)


A. D. 121.



6' -


THE games for the day were over in Lyons.
The vast throng had left the circus; the victors in
the fight had gone to their quarters, and the wide
arena was left to the workers whose duty it was to
prepare the ground for the next day's games.
Old Bulbus, the master of the gladiators, lounged
at his ease upon the broad bear-skin covered bench
in the house of the prefect; and, stretched upon
the mosaic floor at his feet, each with chin on
hand, lay the prefect's two children, Antonius and
Sturdy and healthy-looking, as became those
outdoor-reared children of old France, this boy
and girl of the splendid capital city of Roman
Gaul showed in their flushed faces and sparkling
eyes that the excitement of the day's sports had
not yet fully passed away.
And it had been exciting. For grim old Bulbus,
seeking for novelty, had flooded the big amphi-
theater with water from the river Saone, near at
hand, and transformed the sawdust arena into a
VOL. XV.-8. 7

miniature lake. And here, for the pleasure of the
city's visitor, the great Emperor Hadrian, and for
the thousands of spectators, he had displayed a
naiumachia, or sea-fight, a sight vastly different
from the conflicts between beasts and men usually
shown in the games.
It had been a gorgeous display. Barges and
galleys, richly gilded and crowded with gladiators,
had met in deadly struggle; and all the crash and
terror of an old-time sea-fight had been presented
before the eyes of the eager and delighted spec-
No wonder that Hadrian, the emperor, pleased
with the novelty of the display, had sent to the
master, as his reward, a cup of solid silver, shaped
to the form of a galley and well filled with glitter-
ing denarii, and no wonder, too, that the children
of the prefect lay thus, almost in reverence, at the
feet of the master, drinking in his every word, and
worshiping his greatness even as does the boy of
to-day the mighty captain of a "baseball nine."

For then, even as now, the athletic champion or
the leader of champions often seemed to receive
more deference and marks of honor than poet or
philosopher, senator or statesman !
"A brave display, say you? Well, little ones,
perhaps it seemed so to you," said old Bulbus,
smiling down into the two admiring and upturned
faces. "But it was as nothing to a real sea-fight,
mark you that."
And you have been in just such real sea-fights,
good Bulbus? demanded Antonius.
"Many a time," replied the master. "When
scarce your age I pulled an oar on the thalamite
bench in the war-galleys ofVespasian, the emperor;
and man and boy for fifty years have I lived in
Roman galleys. 'T is a rare remembrance ? Yes -
but may the gods spare you, Little Prefect, from
ever knowing a life such as mine has been."
"Nay, but tell us about it, good Bulbus,"
pleaded both his young listeners.
Can I press fifty years of adventure into half
that number of minutes, O insatiate ones ? laughed
the master. "Nay, let me rather tell you now
only of our trireme, the 'Victory'- the stanch-
est craft in all the war-fleets of Caesar. Then may
you gather from that some notion of a fighting-
man's home on the dancing blue water of our
Middle Sea."
The eyes of the children flashed their approval
of this proposition, and old Bulbus went on:
Inland-bred as you are, O children of the pre-
fect," he said, "you must not judge of real sea-
fighting from this mimic display that I did ar-
range for our lord, the emperor, to-day. I could
tell you of war-ships that would make your eyes
grow big and yet bigger with wonder. Our gal-
leys take their names, you know, from the tiers or
banks of rowers which each one holds,-the two-
bank, three-bank, five-bank, eight-bank,* and so
on, up to sixteen banks, and even, so I have
heard, to fortybanks of rowers.f But these big
boats went their way long. ago; smaller ones are
better for close fighting and quick turning, and we
call all our best fighting-ships, nowadays, triremes,
whether they have three banks of rowers, or less
or more. Our trireme the 'Victory' had, beneath
her deck, benches for full nine-score rowers, in
three tiers or banks. On the lowest bank, fifty-
six rowers or thalamites; on the middle bank, sixty
rowers or zygites; and on the upper bank, sixty-
four rowers or thranites."
And these rowers, good Bulbus, how do they
live between the decks ?" asked Antonius.
Live, say you, Little Prefect? Faith, they die

Bireme, trireme, quinquereme, octireme, etc.
tThe tesseraconferes, or forty-banked vessel of Ptolemy Philopator was 420 feet long; its greatest beam was 76 feet, and its burden
over rT,ooo tons--as large as an ocean steamer of to-day. It had over 4000 rowers, and a total crew of 7500 men.
SThe usual size of the trireme was 149 feet long, 18 feet breadth of beam, and 232 tons burden.


oftener," replied Bulbus. For six and twenty
years did I serve as a rower, to gain my freedom
and my citizenship; but, ah, how many of my com-
rades at the oar have I seen drop and die at their
work But there is one pride that the rower has,
slave though he be. He knows that but for his
labor the trireme would be of little use. Stout
masts it may have, and sails and overmuch sea-
gear, but none of these can help it on without the
nine-score stout rowing-men that bend and pull
to the measure of the pipeman's whistle."
"And were you not crowded there, good
Bulbus? Sabina, the sympathetic, inquired.
"Crowded! You say well, maiden," replied
the master. "May you never know such dearth
of breathing room. There was never a space for
one man more, between the decks,- when all the
rowers were in place, cramped upon the benches,
scarce three feet apart. Each bench but nine
inches wide, and each man pulling a long and
heavy oar,-whether one were thalamite, zygite,
or thranite, it was weary, dreary work, little ones,
such as made a man sigh for freedom and long for
"But how about the fighting-men, good
Bulbus ? asked Antonius, to whom the rower's
toilsome life offered little attraction.
"Ah, there was less of slave work, but scarcely
more of freedom, boy," the master answered;
"we, who were fighting-men,-for, after my six
and twenty years of service at the oar, nearly that
same space did I serve as a 'marine,' or fighting-
man,- were ranged along the cancelli, or narrow
galleries above the rowers of the upper bank, and
our war shields hung over the trireme's side, ready
for instant service, or as a defense against darts.
Look now, I will give you our trireme, the Vic-
tory,' ready for the sea." t And taking the ever-
ready tablets from Sabina, the old man proceeded
to sketch for the children his favorite man-o'-war.
See," he said; thus her bow curved upward
to the figure-head. Below here, ran out the
sharp and ponderous beak, bearing upon it the
dolphin's head. Ah, how that beak could crash
its way through the stoutest oaken sides of any
hostile craft that dared withstand or could not
shun the shock Astern, as you shall see, rose
the deck-house, just behind the two great oars
that steered the trireme. Within this sat the cap-
tain, and here, too, the steersman moved the
great steering-oars at will by means of ropes run-
ning over well-greased wheels and fastened to the
great oars. Not many of the triremes are rigged
with masts and sails, but our 'Victory' had three

r888.] A ROMAN MAN-

stout masts, each topped by a lookout station,
and four full sails; three were square, and the
hinder one was of a shifting, three-cornered cut.
At the ends of each yard were the heavy grap-
pling-irons, and there, too, hung often the pon-
derous dolphins' heads, which we could drop at
will whenever a hostile galley ranged alongside.
Sometimes, also, we reared on the 'Victory's'
deck, high movable towers from which our fight-
ing-men could send their showers of darts and
arrows upon the foe; while, always, near the
bows swung the heavy boarding-bridge, quickly
lowered by its chains,- and across which our
marines would swarm to the fight upon the deck
of the enemy's galley.
So: there we are, you see, under full sail,
with pennons flying and standards. reared astern ;
our sharp beak cutting through the tossing waves;
shields hung over the rail ready for instant use,
and our three banks of oars pulling through the
billows in quick and regular measure to the pipe-
man's whistle. Ah, little ones, it was a sight to
make young eyes sparkle,-aye, and old ones,
too,- to look upon the Victory 'fully manned and
bounding over the sea, ready to scatter the pirates
of the East or to punish the enemies of Rome."

O'-WAR'S MAN. 755

Oh, Bulbus, would that I might see her! "
The boy's breath came fast, and his eyes kindled
with enthusiasm as he followed the old sea-fighter's
words, and even little Sabina showed her interest
in the picture by her eager and attentive look.
"Aye, but it is a hard and cruel life, Little Pre-
fect," said Bulbus, handing back the tablets to Sa-
bina. And I, who have tried it well for more
than fifty years, would far rather train the gladiators
in this our circus of Lyons than risk the danger
and the trials of close quarters and furious tem-
pests, hard knocks and little pay, on the best tri-
reme the emperor has afloat. Come, let us seek
your noble father, the prefect, and talk over the
programme for to-morrow's games. I will turn the
lake into a forest, boy, and show my Numidian
fighters in a monster lion-hunt."
So Sabina and Bulbus hurried off. But young
Antonius, taking the tablets from his sister, still
sat studying the rude outlines of the Victory."
And, as he looked, he seemed almost to feel the
sea-breeze and sniff the salt air of the Middle Sea,
as he closed in fight with some hostile trireme, and
dashed boldly across the lowered boarding-bridge
as became a valiant sea-fighter in the navies of
the Roman Empire.

I.- 3

A y:-- Lucy -.. M ..


AT Bluffanuff there are eight summer cottages
and a hotel, within a stone's-throw of one another.
The owners are all friends, and their young peo-
ple have royal times together. There is also a
ninth house, smaller and by itself, back among the
pine-trees which grow all over the point.
There is nothing of which young people are more
intolerant than peculiarity of dress; and because
Miss Mifflin, the owner of the little cottage, wore
scant, old-fashioned gowns, mitts, and a Shaker
bonnet, they decided that she was a most objec-
tionable reformer, and would lecture in the hotel
dining-room on all the missions a-going," if she
were in the least encouraged.
Poor thing! she was the most timid little old

lady in the world, who performed a great many
missions without saying a word to anybody about
one of them. Her nephew and niece, Russell and
Margaret Mifflin, called her Aunt Phoebe "; but
Ned Hooper nicknamed her "Aunt Iquity." He
was such a popular fellow that he could set any
fashion he pleased; and so it came about that
Margaret's gowns, which were made a good deal
like her aunt's, were called Mifflin Relics," she
was known as Miss Moffit," and Russell went
by the names "Patches," Simple Simon," and
Margaret was sixteen, and she knew every one
of those nicknames by heart. She thought they
fitted remarkably well, too;-that was why she


cried about them in her favorite resting-place by
the cedar bushes where Russell found her one day,
and thought he made her confess everything. But
she owned up only to the Mifflin Relics," which
really she did not mind a bit.
"Well now, Peggy, I call that rather compli-
mentary," said Russell, "for it implies, at least,
that they are worth preserving. So, cheer up,
'Relic,' and let me read you something,-may I ?
I want a pomee' savagely criticised, and you 're
in just the mood."
"0 Russell!" cried Margaret, springing to her
feet, wait till I get my stocking-basket, and we '11
have a lovely time right here "
She was anything but a critic, for she thought
her brother's poetry perfect, and always told him
so. It did no harm, though,- he suffered plenty
of ridicule to balance her praise.
For the next hour, the two were in a happy little
world of their own, and the cedar bushes were a
"You are sure to be a great poet," said Mar-
garet, pricking her long needle through one of his
stockings with eager, nervous stitches, as if she
was, at that very minute, herself weaving golden
fame for him. You need n't keep saying that it
never will be, for it is in you, and the world has
got to find it out. And even without college (but
I believe you '11 get there, you know), you '11 write
such books as will make people proud of-- of being
your countrymen "
"Ah no, little Peggy sighed Russell; that is
an impossible dream of yours. I must work for bread
and butter, not for fame."
I 'm to be taken into
partnership in all your
bread-and-butter plans,
-don't forget that," said. -,
Margaret, stoutly. "We '- -
are going to live like Tom
Pinch and his sister, and
have a triangular parlor.
I wonder where Dickens
ever saw a room of that
shape? I don't know
how we can get one, un-
less we partition an ordi- "'YOU ARE SU
nary room across, 'cater-
corner.' But no matter, we '11 have it. You are
to go to college,- you are fitted for it now, you
know you are,- and you can get scholarships and
things, and fellows to coach. I heard Mrs. Hard-
ing tell somebody that Brent (I think that 's his
name) had lots of conditions, and would have to
be coached all through college. So I 'm going to
take care of Aunt Phoebe until you graduate with
tremendous honors, and then we '11 have the three-

cornered parlor and I shall make a beefsteak-
pudding while you write poetry "
"Yes," said Russell, looking up at her over his
folded arms from the grass where he was lying,
if we begin in that way, it won't be long before
you '11 be taking in washing to support the family
-that 's the sort of thing women do. No, Meg,
poetry is n't going to win either beefsteak-pudding
or fame for you and me. Neither shall I ever see
college. But, if I could-I tell you, Peggy-"
Russell sat up and clenched his fist hard -" if I
could go to Harvard College--well, with the
education I could get there I 'd be ready to fight
the world."
A crackling of dry twigs close by made him
stop; and both were quite still until whoever was
passing by was out of hearing. Then they went
back to the house.
The young people who chose to make game of
Russell and Margaret and their Aunt Phoebe were
not ill-natured; they were only thoughtless.
Ned Hooper, Jo Anderson, Brent Harding, and
Will Burt were all going to Harvard in the fall.
They had passed their examinations well all but
happy-go-lucky Brent,-and what did he care for
conditions? He was "going to work'em all off in
no time Brent was a brilliant fellow, and could
do things so easily that they never were done. He
had been going to all his life.
Russell was the only boy in the colony who had
no opportunity of going to college, and the only
one whose heart ached pitifully for the privilege.
Ned Hooper had overheard his speech to Mar-




garet about going to Harvard, that morning by
the cedar bushes, and had made great fun of it.
The idea of Russell's lank, ungainly figure at
Harvard seemed very funny to him, and he drew a
caricature of Russell crossing the college yard,
while a crowd of students were looking at him
through opera-glasses. Russell found it on the
beach, where it had been carelessly flung away,
but nobody ever knew he saw it, for he could keep


x888.] THE BELL-Bl

that kind of a secret as well as Margaret. Only,
he avoided people rather more after that, and the
boys added Mopes and "Moonshine" to his
other nicknames.
One afternoon, Ned and his sister made up a
sailing party and, under protest, invited Ned Rus-
sell and Margaret.
"Rusty won't do anything but moon, and his
little brown Peggy of a sister '11 be as stupid as an
oyster Ned growled, but his mother- it was all
her doing insisted.
Russell did moon at the bows, and the brown
Peggy was as quiet as an oyster for about an hour,
while they sailed in the crisp, cool air; the girls
taking turns at the tiller, and imagining they were
learning to steer, and all making perry with their
chatter-chatter, as young folks in a boat are sure
to do.
"Sing!-sing, somebody! Do!" cried irre-
pressible Tessa Harding. I'm so happy, I shall
die if some one does n't express it for me "
But they were decidedly not a musical set. They
started a few common airs, but nobody knew the
words. In a few bars the song was sure to be
spoiled, and when the Yo, ho !" chorus of
"Nancy Lee" died in a woful discord, Tessa
stopped her ears and cried again, Oh, stop !
That does n't express my feelings I 'm not raging
mad! "
"It's pretty bad, Tessa, we admit," said Jo An-
derson; "but reflect that we did it to save your
life -you said you should die, you know."
"Well, I shall yet, if you do that any more,"
she said, laughing.
It 's hopeless," said Rose Hooper; "if there
was any one who could lead, there are some of
us who could follow very well."
Hark! Suddenly the notes of "Nancy Lee"
rang out, clear, beautiful, and true. Everybody
stood or sat motionless until the verse was finished.
Russell, still in the bows, had started at the first
note and turned to meet the great, frightened
eyes of Margaret as she looked into his face and
The verse ended. She hung her head and shrank
behind Mrs. Hooper's protecting shoulder. But
there was a protest from everybody, and the rest of
the song was demanded. So little Peggy came
timidly out of her shell," and led the singing
bravely. By and by they drifted into college
songs, and then the very spirit of joy seemed to
possess the party.
It was a happy sail. When it was over, Captain
Hull declared that he had never "seen a line of
brighter, handsomer faces file along the old pier,
and -he confided to Mrs. Hooper, as he helped
her to land- it 'd take a sailor with a mighty



stiff crust on, not to feel cheerfuller after being
with a crowd like that "
There was only one sour one among 'em," he
added, "and they put him up in the bows for a
scarecrow, so nobody but the gulls knew he was
there !"
Never call an apple sour till you have tasted
it, Captain," said Mrs. Hooper, brightly. I
heard somebody call that little nightingale who
has been singing so sweetly for us, as quiet and
stupid as an oyster' ; perhaps her brother could
surprise us too, if he chose."
It was no wonder the captain thought Russell
was sour. Those college songs hadbeen too much
for him, and the moment the boat touched the pier
he had sprung ashore and rushed hurriedly away,
with his hat pulled low over his eyes.
The next afternoon the young folks were gathered
on the cliff with work or sketching materials, when
Jo came up, holding a little book above his head
and shouting, "A prize A prize See what we
found in the boat last night It was Russell's
note-book, which he had dropped.
Oh, what fun! Now we '11 find out what
'Mopes's moonshine is," cried Will Burt; and the
rest, taking up the cry, demanded "moonshine'
"Oh, Rusty! Rusty! I fear this will prove an
unhappy hour for you, my son said Jo, pretend-
ing to wipe away a tear, as he mounted an old
"I have the honor, ladies and gentlemen," he
continued, "of reading to you some rare speci-
mens of -ahem!-poetry-written by our dis-
tinguished Harvard aspirant, Mr. Rusty Fusty
Moonshine. But first I wish to offer a resolution.
Miss Chairman Nelly, you are in the chair,
understand-Miss Chairman, ladies and gentle-
men, I move that we show the poet our apprecia-
tion of his genius by quotations which it shall be
our object to make familiar to his ear-- "
"Both ears-to both ears! Moved-seconded-
and-carried-it-is-a-vote shouted Ned. "Fire
away, Jo "
Listen, absorb and commit to memory, then !"
said Jo, and with much mock solemnity he read :

'Swing, swing, with thy ponderous tongue
Thy bellmen are billows that long have swung
The great, iron hammer.
Blow on blow from the Bell-buoy rings,
And forth on the darkness of midnight flings
The hollow, wild clamor.' "

But the effect of Jo's reading was unexpected.
The listeners could see nothing to ridicule in that.

"'Thy bellmen are billows,'" repeated Rose,
who had a fondness for poetry and, unknown to
any one, a little note-book of her own. "That
is n't bad at all. Jo, read it again, seriously, and
stop your nonsense "
Jo put his handkerchief in his pocket and read
the verse .once more, and, this time, pretty well.
"I don't call that a bit ridiculous; I think it is
pretty," said Rose.
"I say, fellows! said Ned, "Rusty's got a
champion "
Call me another, then; for I think it 's pretty,
too," said Nelly Harding, nestling, girl-fashion, up
to Rose.
"Hurrah for Rusty!" cried Ned. "Look to
your colors, boys. If the girls are going over to
'Simple Simon' we'll have to follow, whether
or no."
"Come !" said Rose, bristling a little, "that's
a name you '11 have to drop anyhow. No simple-
ton ever wrote those lines. Let 's be fair now.
Begin again, and read the whole poem beauti-
fully,-you know you can, Jo,-and, instead of
trying to amuse, try to charm us with it, and we '11
give our honest opinion, without a bit of humbug."
There was a general assent while Jo stepped
down from his perch, threw himself on the grass,
read the verse once more, and continued:
S' The sailor listens; and as he hears
He springs to the tiller; the tall ship rears,
And stands for the ocean.
And, long out of sight in the darkness gone,
He hears the strong bellmen still ringing on
With solemn motion.

Thanks, good bell, for thy strange wild peal!
The wife, far off, and the children, kneel
And pray that the tolling
May never fail the brave father who sails,
When he feels on his breast the foam of the
And hears the sea rolling.' "

Jo finished and said, in a tone of surprise, "I
say, fellows!" and the others said also to one
another: I say "
There was a moment of silence. Then "Rusty
is n't such a fool, after all said Will. Read
some more."
Jo read page after page. The boys listened and
were delighted. They wanted to make up for their
injustice, and so, naturally, their praise grew extrav-
agant. The result was an overwhelming triumph
for Russell.
The reading ended, Jo put the book into the
pocket of his boating-shirt, gave a slap on the out-
side, and, rising, said:



Miss Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, I with-
draw the motion made by me at the opening of
this session, and respectfully submit the following
in its stead: 'Resolved, That Rusty is a trump.' "
"Hear, hear! Second the motion cried the
boys, and Ned Hooper raised his cap in the air,
and cried:
"Moved and seconded that old Rusty Mifflin
is a trump! Those in favor, signify by three
cheers -"
The cheers interrupted him.
Contrary-minded don't signify; it is a vote,"
cried Ned; and I 've got another resolution to
offer -namely 'Resolved: That we have been
rather mean scamps generally, and that we '11
make it up to hign, if-- But nobody could hear
any more because of the clamor of assent. After
a little more talk of the same kind, the boys went
to find Russell, and to return the book to him.
But he was not to be found, and, after making
three calls upon Margaret in the course of the
evening, they decided to wait until the next day.
It's very queer nobody ever noticed before,"
Ned remarked confidentially to Jo, how well the
' Mifflin Relics' suit that little Peggy. She looks
like a picture, with her bonnet off."

The next morning was cloudy, and the boys
were surprised when they went in search of Rus-
sell to learn that he had gone away in his boat.
If he and Margaret could have seen all that Harvard
set, and heard his name repeated among them that
day, the brother and sister would have been much
surprised. The bantering tones had ceased, and
nothing was heard excepting such questions and
remarks as: Has n't Rusty turned up yet? and
If we had known what he was made of, we 'd
have invented different names," I say, drop that,
and let 's call the old fellow Russell," and similar
suggestions. And Brent Harding had collected
his books, had a long talk with his mother, and
was again going to," this time in real earnest, if
he could try it with Rusty."
The day wore on, and the clouds grew heavier.
Ned questioned the skippers, who predicted a
storm before morning; but, slow to take alarm,
said only, of Russell: :' Oh, he 's somewhere or
other. He '11 turn up !"
Perhaps, a week before, the boys would have
thought so, too; but they were troubled now. At
last they found poor Peggy at the end of the long
pier, bareheaded, holding her hair back from her
face, and looking anxiously over the water. When
they spoke to her, she burst into tears. There
was not one among them who could stand that;
and in less than half an hour the "Yano," the
strongest boat in the harbor, with two skippers



and Ned and Jo on board, started out in search
of Russell.
Drearily they plowed their way through the
gathering mist for nearly two hours. The wind
blew harder, and the white caps steadily increased.
Now and then they blew a horn, and listened for
some answering sound until their hearts ached.


The skippers took in reefs, and it soon became
hard for them to manage the boat. They were
about to go back, in the hope that Russell had re-
turned, when Ned spied something floating on the
water. Now it was hidden under a wave, now it
was riding through a hollow between the caps.
Again, it was sent close to the boat's side. The

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boys' faces paled when they caught it at last, and
found it to be the oar of a boat with a colored
handkerchief tied to it. It 's the very bandanna
we 've made such game of, Ned," said Jo. Ned
wrung it out, and fastened it in his belt, but said
not a word.
Time after time, as they tacked, the wind blew
the sound of the
[. .. i ,-, -


Every eye glared at him, and every ear was
strained with listening.
"No use now," he said, "the wind makes too
much racket, and it drives so. Wait for another
tack." One more curve, out and back, and then
they listened again, all intent for a moment or
"There ain't a sound in the universe except
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h ,,,v,,i l::'. m (,. .,%:. i[ h i[,,lPlh .: ],j' l ,,l

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to-night!" said Captain Hull, as they steered the
boat backwards and forwards, away and around
again, as near as possible to the buoy.
The other skipper had not spoken since they
had found the handkerchief.
"It 's no use staying here any longer,--steer
away from that bell, for heaven's sake! cried
Ned at last. "It sounds like a ghastly funeral,
and I can't stand it another- "
Hark!" roared out Captain Grigg, and Ned
stopped with the word on his lips. All were silent
for a moment, but heard only the dash of waves,
the wind, which was beginning to roar, and the
bell steadily clanging its dismal notes.
He 's right: steer away from it,- it sounds
like death! said Captain Hull, as a peal, louder
than all the rest, sounded close by, and Captain
Grigg veered the vessel away from the rocks, which
were dangerously near.
"Death?" roared Captain Grigg. "It's life,
I tell ye Hark! .

Grigg. "Listen to that, and let the rest of the
universe alone for a spell. Mark the waves dash-
ing against that rock, and count the strokes of the
bell between the breakers. One--two- three!
four! There 's a wave I 'll hold her near as I
dare. Now, again! -one-two-three! four!
five !-and there 's another! Keep it up when
we come back this time. If I don't know all the
tricks of that bell, I don't know the tricks of my
two-year-old Benny and I know this: In every
storm ever I was here in, two strokes to the wave is
the best the old bell-buoy could do. I 've been doin'
nothing' but count since we picked up that oar, and
sure as we 're alive, boys, there 's a human fellow-
creature that 's hammerin' for life on that bell !"
Ned and Jo, motionless and scarcely daring to
breathe, listened to every word. Then Ned tore
off his coat and boots.
"Steady, boy! cried Grigg; If you want to
save that life, do as I bid ye; and if ye move a
.finger, -either of ye, I '11 turn the vessel, and run



ye home!" The captain's voice was rough and
stern, for Jo's coat and boots were off, too.
"Now," said Captain Hull more quietly, as
they neared the bell again, do you two boys
blow the horn, and keep it up; for if Grigg's
words are true, the sound of it 'll carry hope
to ears that '11 nigh crack with listening. "
But neither of the boys heard the last sentence
for the noise Jo was making with the horn. Then
every ear listened and every face broke into a
wonderful gleam of joy as the answer came in
quick, successive strokes from the bell. Jo sent
back a deafening blast, and then came another
answer,-fainter now, for they had steered away
again. Half an hour they worked, until there
came a loud ring almost at their ears; but the
fog was so thick they could not see the buoy clearly.
"Down with the sail t Drop anchor shouted
Grigg, and in a moment the vessel lay compara-
tively still.
And now it 's my turn said Ned Hooper,
already with a rope around his body. Nobody
could control him then.
Hold on to the other end of the rope, Jo, and
when I pull it, haul us in," he said. Then Jo
gave a cry, for Ned was overboard. There were

"Hold on to the boy, Cephas!" he cried.
"He '11 go if ye don't, and he has n't the build
of the other one. Haul, if-- He ended in a
cry, for there came a clanging from the bell.
Then they worked with a will. The horn and
bell answered each other, the signal came, and all
hands pulled together.
It was only a moment now before they had hold
of Ned, and were lifting into the boat the uncon-
scious form of Russell.
It was some time before Ned could speak, and
the hand which held Russell's was very limp.
Then he stammered: "He 's only fainted- only
fainted. He spoke to me at the bell and said-
he said -
0 Ned," cried Jo, how you shiver Don't
try to tell us ,,' 1!,ii dear fellow Only swallow
this- "
But Ned put it away, and, shaking violently,
gasped, "No--no! I must say it. He said -I
asked him to, before-before I pulled the rope.
He said he forgave and-- Tell the others, Jo-
and -"
But Ned sank down, throwing his arm over Rus-
sell's neck, and both were quite unconscious now.
--It was fully three weeks afterward that the

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a few moments they seemed hours while they boys were all together at te cliff again; Russell in
leaned over the vessel in suspense. the hammock which Jo had swung for him.
Then Grigg quickly made ready to follow Ned. So you insist upon 'Rusty,' do you, old chap?"
Then Grigg quickly made ready to follow Ned. 'L So y~ou insist upon 'Rusty,' do you, old chap?')


said Ned. And it is n't suggestive of anything
disagreeable ? "
"Not a bit, Cap'n," answered Russell, brightly.
" And I 'll take my affidavit to it, if it '11 make you
any easier. It 's a great deal more spicy than
'Russell.' Ilikeit."
'Rusty' it is, and 'Rusty.' it shall be, then,"
said Ned. Only if it gets you into trouble next
winter, when you 're a 'Fresh' at Harvard "
"I 'm not a bit worried," said Russell; "I '11
risk anything that brings me. And, oh! he cried,

sitting up so suddenly in the hammock that he
jostled the baby-squirrels in their nest on the
limb of the tree, overhead, "it will be so grand to
be there, getting a real college education, and to
think that I owe it all to your having called me
'Rusty' in the beginning, that the sound of the
name will be something like a jubilee chorus to
me all my life "
I say, fellows," he added, dropping back in
the hammock again, don't think that 's senti-
mental 'blow,' will you? "


It is not alone the dcreactfL morning bath

That falls this hieroglyphic Babe with wrath

His complacent Brother's jeers

Start those two resentful tears,-

But behotcl! the Fa{her cometh with a [ath.



LOOK the valleys are thick with grain
Heavy and tall;
Peaches drop in the grassy lane
By the orchard wall;
Apples, streaked with a crimson stain,
Bask in the sunshine, warm and bright:
Hark to the quail that pipes for rain -
Bob White! Bob White !
Augur of mischief, pipes for rain -
Bob White !

Men who reap on the fruitful plain
Skirting the town,
Lift their eyes to the shifting vane
As the sun goes down;
Slowly the farmer's loaded wain

Climbs the slope in the failing light,-
Bold is the voice that pipes for rain -
Bob White Bob White!
Still from the hillside, pipes for rain -
Bob White !

Lo, a burst at the darkened pane,
Angry and loud!
Waters murmur and winds complain
To the rolling cloud;
Housed at the farm, the careless swain,
Weaving snares while the fire burns bright,
Tunes his lips to the old refrain -
Bob White! Bob White !
Oh, the sound of the blithe refrain -
Bob White !



I READ a statement in this magazine not long
ago, about the spiders' webs that cover the fields
and meadows on certain mornings in the summer,
which was not entirely exact. It is not quite true,
in the sense in which it was uttered, that these
spiders' webs are more abundant on some morn-
ings than on others, and that they presage fair
weather. Now the truth is, that during the latter
half of summer these webs are about as abundant
at one time as at another; but they are much
more noticeable on some mornings than on
others,-a heavy dew brings them to view. They
are especially conspicuous after a morning of fog,
such as often fills our deeper valleys for a few
hours when fall approaches. They then look like
little napkins spread all over the meadows; I
saw fields last summer in August, when one
could step from one of these dew-napkins to
another, for long distances. They are little nets
that catch the fog. Every thread is strung with
innumerable, fine drops, like tiny beads. After an
hour of sunshine the webs, apparently, are gone.
Most country people, I find, think they are due

to nothing but the moisture; others seem to think
that the spiders take them in as morning ad-
vances. But they are still there, stretched above
the grass at noon and at sunset, as abundant as
they were at sunrise; and are then more serviceable
to the spiders, because less visible. The flies and
other insects, if any were stirring, would avoid
them in the morning, but at midday they do not
detect them so readily.
If these webs have any significance as signs of
the coming weather this may be the explanation:
A heavy dew occurs under a clear, cool sky, and
the night preceding a day of rain is usually a dew-
less night. Much dew, then, means fair weather,
and a copious dew discloses the spiders' webs. It is
the dew that is significant, and not the webs.
We all need to be on our guard against hasty
observations and rash conclusions. Look again,
and think again, before you make up your mind.
One day, while walking in the woods, I heard a
sound which I was at once half persuaded to be-
lieve was the warning of a coiled rattlesnake; it
was a swift, buzzing rattle, and but a few yards


from me. Cautiously approaching, I saw the head
and neck of a snake. Earlier in my life I should
have needed no further proof, and probably should
have fled with the full conviction that I had seen
and heard the dreaded rattlesnake. But as I have
grown older, I have grown more wary about jump-
ing to conclusions-- even where jumping serpents
are concerned. I looked again, and again, and
drew nearer the rattler at each glance. Soon I
saw that it was only a harmless black snake shak-
ing his tail at me. Was he trying to imitate the
rattlesnake? I only know that there he lay, with
his tail swiftly vibrating in contact with a dry leaf.
The leaf gave forth a loud, sharp, humming rattle.
The motive or instinct that prompted the snake
to do this seemed a suggestion or a prophecy of
the threat of the rattlesnake. It evidently was done
on account of my presence, probably as a warning
note. Since then I have seen a small garter-snake
do the same thing. He was found in the oat-bin.
How he got there is a mystery; but there he was,
and when I teased him with a stick he paused and
vibrated the end of his tail so rapidly that, in con-
tact with the oats, it gave out a sharp buzzing
sound. He, also, was an incipient rattlesnake.
Such facts were of great interest to Darwin, as
showing marked traits of one species cropping out,
casually or tentatively, in another.
In line with these is another observation which
I made two summers ago, and was enabled to
confirm last summer. Our bluebird is no doubt
a modified thrush; that is, its ancestor in the
remote past was doubtless of the thrush family.
One evidence of this is the fact that the young of
the bluebird has a speckled breast like the thrush;
and Darwin established the principle that peculiar
markings or traits confined to the youth of any
species are an inheritance from early progenitors.
In addition to this, I have noted in the song of the
female bluebird -one of a pair that for two seasons
have built near me a distinct note of the thrush.
Whenever I hear the voice of this bird it reminds
me of that of a certain thrush the olive-backed.
But I am wandering far from my subject. I set
out to. talk about spiders. Do you know that we
have a spider called the wolf-spider, and one that
well deserves the name, so fierce and savage is he?
He is a webless spider, that prowls about seeking
whom he may devour. I had not seen one since
boyhood till the other day, when I met one in the
path between the house and the study. He was so
large and black, and was marching along so boldly,
sustained upon his eight long legs, that he attracted
my attention at once. I poked at him with the
toe of my shoe, when he boldly charged me, and
tried to run up my leg. This deepened my in-
terest in him, and I bent down to him and chal-

lenged him with a lead-pencil. At first he tried
to escape into the grass, but, being headed off, he
faced me in an attitude of defense. He reared up
like a wild animal, his forward legs in the air, his
row of minute eyes glistening, and his huge fangs,
with their sharp hooks, slightly parted, ready to
seize me. As I teased him with the pencil, he tried
to parry my thrusts with his arms, like a boxer,
till he saw his opportunity, when he sprang fiercely
upon the pencil, and, closing his fangs upon it,
allowed himself td be lifted from the ground.
When he had let go, two minute drops of moisture
were visible where the fangs had touched the
polished surface of the pencil. This was the poison
they had secreted, and would probably make his
bite very dangerous. After he had discharged his
wrath and his venom in this way, once or twice,
he grew reluctant to repeat the operation, just as
a venomous snake does. His valor seemed to sub-
side as his supply of venom diminished. Finally,
he would not bite at all, but held up his arms
or legs simply on the defensive. His fangs were
two thick weapons, surmounted.by two small black
hooks, probably a sixteenth of an inch long. They
were very formidable in appearance. The spider
himself was an inch and a half in length, black
and velvety; and, with his eight prominent legs all
in motion, was striking to look upon. I captured
him and kept him a prisoner for a few days in a
box with a glass cover. We put large flies in his
cage which he would not touch while we were
present, but in the morning only empty shells of
flies remained. Then we put in wasps, and to these
he seemed to have a great antipathy. He prob-
ably knew that they also had venom, and knew
how to use it. When the wasps buzzed about
seeking to escape, he would shove up a wall of
cotton (for there was cotton in the box) between
himself and them. In the morning the wasps were
always dead, but not devoured. We also put in
grasshoppers, and their kicking much annoyed the
spider, but he would not eat them. In one respect
he showed much more wit than the insects which
we placed in his cage; they labored incessantly to
escape through the glass; but, after two or three
attempts to get out, he made up his mind that that
course was useless; he was capable of being con-
vinced, while the flies and bees were not. But
when the glass was removed and he felt himself in
the open air once more, with what haste he scam-
pered away He fled like aliberated wolf, indeed,
and struggled hard against recapture. When
we gave him his freedom, for good and all, he
rushed off into the grass and was soon lost to
Next in interest to the wolf-spider is the sand-
spider, which you may have observed in the sand


upon the sea-coast. They sink deep wells into the
sand, and lay in wait for their prey at the bottom.
When you are upon the Jersey beach, notice these
little holes in the sand among the coarse, scattered,
wild grass. Insert a straw or a twig into one of
them and then dig downward, following this as a
guide. A foot or more below the surface you will
unearth this large, gray sand-spider, and with a
magnifying-glass you can see how fiercely his eight

eyes glare upon you. Try also to force a cricket
into one of these holes and see how loth it will
seem to go in.
One's powers of observation may be cultivated
by noting all these things, and the pleasure which
one gets from a walk or from a vacation in the
country is thereby greatly increased. Nothing is
beneath notice, and the closer we look the more
we shall learn about the ways and doings of Nature.



"LITTLE MOCCASIN" was, at the time we speak
of, fourteen years old, and about as mischievous
a boy as could be found anywhere in the Big
Horn mountains. Unlike his comrades of the
same age, who had already killed buffaloes and
stolen horses from the white men and the Crow
Indians, with whom Moccasin's tribe, the Un-
capapas, were at war, he preferred to lie under a
shady tree in the summer, or around the camp-fire
in winter, listening to the conversation of the old
men and women, instead of going upon expeditions
with the warriors and the hunters.
The Uncapapas are a very powerful and numer-
ous tribe of the great Sioux Nation, and before
Uncle Sam's soldiers captured and removed them,
and before the Northern Pacific Railroad entered
the territory of Montana, they occupied the beauti-
ful valleys of the Rosebud, Big and Little Horn,
Powder and Redstone rivers, all of which empty
into the grand Yellowstone Valley. In those days,
before the white man had set foot upon these
grounds, there was plenty of game, such as buffalo,
elk, antelope, deer, and bear; and, as the Un-
capapas were great hunters and good shots, the
camp of Indians to which Little Moccasin belonged
always had plenty of meat to eat and plenty of
robes and hides to sell and trade for horses and
guns, for powder and ball, for sugar and coffee,

and for paint and flour. Little Moccasin showed
more appetite than any other Indian in camp.
In fact, he was always hungry, and used to eat at
all hours, day and night. Buffalo meat he liked
the best, particularly the part taken from the
hump, which is so tender that it almost melts in
the mouth.
When Indian boys have had a hearty dinner of
good meat, they generally feel very happy and very
lively. When hungry, they are sad and dull.
This was probably the reason why Little Moc-
casin was always so full of mischief, and always
inventing tricks to play upon the other boys. He
was a precocious and observing youngster, full of
quaint and original ideas- never at a loss for
But he was once made to feel very sorry for
having played a trick, and I must tell my young
readers how it happened.
Running Antelope," one of the great warriors
and the most noted orator of the tribe, had re-
turned from a hunt, and Mrs. Antelope was frying
for him a nice buffalo steak-about as large as
two big fists-over the coals. Little Moccasin,
who lived in the next street of tents, smelled the
feast, and concluded that he would have some of
it. In the darkness of the night he slowly and
carefully crawled toward the spot, where Mistress



Antelope sat holding in one hand a long stick, at
the end of which the steak was frying. Little
Moccasin watched her closely, and, seeing that she
frequently placed her other hand upon the ground
beside her and leaned upon it for support, he soon
formed a plan for making her drop the steak.
He had once or twice in his life seen a pin, but
he had never owned one, and he could not have
known what use is sometimes made of them by
bad white boys. He had noticed, however, that
some of the leaves of the larger varieties of the
prickly-pear cactus-plant are covered with many
thorns, as long and as sharp as an ordinary pin.
So when Mrs. Antelope again sat down and
looked at the meat to see if it was done, he slyly
placed half-a-dozen of the cactus leaves upon the
very spot of ground upon which Mrs. Antelope
had before rested her left hand.
Then the young mischief crawled noiselessly
into the shade and waited for his opportunity,
which came immediately.
When the unsuspecting Mrs. Antelope again
leaned upon the ground, and felt the sharp points
of the cactus leaves, she uttered a scream, and
dropped from her other hand the stick and the
steak, thinking only of relief from the sharp pain.
Then, on the instant, the young rascal seized the
stick and tried to run away with it. But Run-
ning Antelope caught him by his long hair, and
gave him a severe whipping, declaring that he
was a good-for-nothing boy, and calling him a
"coffee-cooler" and a squaw."
The other boys, hearing the rumpus, came run-
ning up to see the fun, and they laughed and
danced over poor Little Moccasin's distress. Often
afterwards they called him coffee-cooler "; which
meant that he was cowardly and faint-hearted, and
that he preferred staying in camp around the fire,
drinking coffee, to taking part in the manly sports
of hunting and stealing expeditions.
The night after the whipping, Little Moccasin
could not sleep. The disgrace of the whipping
and the name applied to him were too much for
his vanity. He even lost his appetite, and refused
some very nice prairie-dog stew which his mother
offered him.
He was thinking of something else. He must
do something brave -perform some great deed
which no other Indian had ever performed-in
order to remove this stain upon his character.
But what should it be? Should he go out alone
and kill a bear? He had never fired a gun, and
was afraid that the bear might eat him. Should
he attack the Crow camp single-handed? No,
no -not he; they would catch him and scalp
him alive.
All night long he was thinking and planning;

but when daylight came, he had reached no con-
clusion. He must wait for the Great Spirit to
give him some ideas.
During the following day he refused all food
and kept drawing his belt tighter and tighter
around his waist every hour, till, by evening, he
had reached the last notch. This method of
appeasing the pangs of hunger, adopted by the
Indians when they have nothing to eat, is said
to be very effective.
In a week's time Little Mloccasin had grown
almost as thin as a bean-pole, but no inspiration had
yet revealed what he could do to redeem himself.
About this time a roving band of Cheyennes,
who had been down to the mouth of the Little
Missouri, and beyond, entered the camp upon a
friendly visit. Feasting and dancing were kept up
day and night, in honor of the guests; but Little
Moccasin lay hidden in the woods nearly all the
During the night of the second day of their stay,
he quietly stole to the rear of the great council-
tepee, to listen to the pow-wow then going on.
Perhaps he would there learn some words of wis-
dom which would give him an idea how to carry
out his great undertaking.
After Black Catfish," the great Cheyenne
warrior, had related in the flowery language of his
tribe some reminiscences of his many fights and
brave deeds, Strong Heart" spoke. Then there
was silence for many minutes, during which the
pipe of peace made the rounds, each warrior tak-
ing two or three puffs, blowing the smoke through
the nose, pointing toward heaven and then hand-
ing the pipe to his left-hand neighbor.
"Strong Heart," Crazy Dog," "Bow-String,"
Dog-Fox," and Smooth Elkhorn" spoke of the
country they had just passed through.
Then again the pipe of peace was handed round,
amid profound silence.
"Black Pipe," who was bent and withered with
the wear and exposure of seventy-nine winters,
and who trembled like some leafless tree shaken
by the wind, but who was sound in mind and
memory, then told the Uncapapas, for the first
time, of the approach of a great number of white
men, who were measuring the ground with long
chains, and who were being followed by "Thun-
dering Horses," and "Houses on Wheels." (He
was referring to the surveying parties of the
Northern Pacific Railway Company, who were just
then at work on the crossing of the Little Missouri.)
With heart beating wildly, Little Moccasin lis-
tened to this strange story and then retired to his
own blankets in his father's tepee.
Now he had found the opportunity he so long had
sought He would go across the mountains, all


by himself, look at the thundering horses and the
houses on wheels. He then would know more than
any one in the tribe, and return to the camp,- a
hero !
At early morn, having provided himself with a
bow and a quiver full of arrows, without informing
any one of his plan he stole out of camp, and, run-
ning at full speed, crossed the nearest mountain to
the East.
Allowing himself little time for rest, pushing
forward by day and night, and after fording many
of the smaller mountain-streams, on the evening
of the third day of his travel he came upon what
he believed to be a well-traveled road. But -how
strange -there were two endless iron rails lying
side by side upon the ground. Such a curious
sight he had never beheld. There were also large
poles, with glass caps, and connected by wire,
standing along the roadside. What could all this
Poor Little Moccasjn's brain became so bewil-
dered that he hardly noticed the approach of a
freight-train drawn by the Thundering Horse."
There was a shrill, long-drawn whistle, and im-
mense clouds of black smoke; and the Thunder-
ing Horse was sniffing and snorting at a great rate,
emitting from its nostrils large streams of steam-
ing vapor. Besides all this, the earth, in the
neighborhood of where Little Moccasin stood,
shook and trembled as if in great fear; and to him
the terrible noises the horse made were perfectly
Gradually the snorts, and the puffing, and the
terrible noise lessened, until, all at once, they en-
tirely ceased. The train had come to a stand-still
at a watering tank, where the Thundering Horse
was given its drink.
The rear car, or House on Wheels," as old
Black Pipe had called it, stood in close proximity
to Little Moccasin,-who, in his bewilderment
and fright at the sight of these strange moving
houses, had been unable to move a step.
-But as no harm had come to him from the terri-
ble monster, Moccasin's heart, which had sunk
down to the region of his toes, began to rise again;
and the curiosity inherent in every Indian boy
mastered fear.
He moved up, and down, and around the great
House on Wheels; then he touched it in many
places, first with the tip-end of one finger, and
finally with both hands. If he could only detach
a small piece from the house to take back to camp
with him as a trophy and as a proof of his daring
achievement! But it was too solid, and all made
of heavy wood and iron.
At the rear end of the train there was a ladder,
which the now brave Little Moccasin ascended

with the quickness of a squirrel to see what there
was on top.
It was gradually growing dark, and suddenly
he saw (as he really believed) the full moon ap-
proaching him. He did not know that it was
the headlight of a locomotive coming from the
opposite direction.
Absorbed in this new and glorious sight, he did
not notice the starting of his own car, until it was
too late, for, while the car moved, he dared not let
go his hold upon the brake-wheel.
There he was, being carried with lightning speed
into a far-off, unknown country, over bridges, by
the sides of deep ravines, and along the slopes
of steep mountains.
But the Thundering Horse never tired nor grew
thirsty again during the entire night.
At last, soon after the break of day, there came
the same shrill whistle which had frightened him
so much on the previous day; and, soon after, the
train stopped at Miles City.
But, unfortunately for our little hero, there were
a great many white people in sight; and he was
compelled to lie flat upon the roof of his car, in
order to escape notice. He had heard so much of
the cruelty of the white men that he dared not
trust himself among them.
Soon they started again, and Little Moccasin
was compelled to proceed on his involuntary jour-
ney, which took him away from home and into
unknown dangers.
At noon, the cars stopped on the open prairie to
let Thundering Horse drink again. Quickly, and
without being detected by any of the trainmen, he
dropped to the ground from his high and perilous
position. Then the train left him-all alone in
an unknown country.
Alone ? Not exactly ; for, within a few minutes,
half-a-dozen Crow Indians, mounted on swift
ponies, are by his side, and are lashing him with
whips and lassoes.
He has fallen into the hands of the deadliest
enemies of his tribe, and has been recognized by
the cut of his hair and the shape of his moccasins.
When they tired of their sport in beating poor
Little Moccasin so cruelly, they dismounted and
tied his hands behind his back.
Then they sat down upon the ground to have a
smoke and to deliberate about the treatment of
the captive.
During the very severe whipping, and while they
were tying his hands, though it gave him great
pain, Little Moccasin never uttered a groan. In-
dian-like, he had made up his mind to "die game,"
and not to give his enemies the satisfaction of
gloating over his sufferings. This, as will be
seen, saved his life.



The leader of the Crows, "Iron Bull," was in
favor of burning the hated Uncapapa at a stake,
then and there; but "Spotted Eagle," "Blind
Owl," and "Hungry Wolf" called attention to
the youth and bravery of the captive, who had
endured the lashing without any sign of fear.
Then the two other Crows took the same view.
This decided poor Moccasin's fate; and he under-
stood it all, although he did not. speak the Crow
language, for he was a great sign-talker, and had
watched them very closely during their council.
Blind Owl, who seemed the most kind-hearted
of the party, lifted the boy upon his pony, Blind
Owl himself getting up in front, and they rode at
full speed westward to their large encampment,
where they arrived after sunset.
Little Moccasin was then relieved of his bonds,
which had benumbed his hands during the long
ride, and a large dish of boiled meat was given
to him. This, in his famished condition, he
relished very much. An old squaw, one of the
wives of Blind Owl, and a Sioux captive, took pity
on him, and gave him a warm place with plenty
of blankets in her own tepee, where he enjoyed a
good rest.
During his stay with the Crows, Little Moccasin
was made to do the work, which usually falls to
the lot of the squaws; and which was imposed
upon him as a punishment upon a brave enemy,
designed to break his proud spirit. He was treated
as a slave, made to haul wood and draw water, do
the cooking, and clean game. Many of the Crow
boys wanted to kill him, but his foster-mother,
"Old Looking-Glass," protected him; and, be-
sides, they feared that the soldiers of Fort Custer
might hear of it, if he was killed, and punish them.
Many weeks thus passed, and the poor little
captive grew more despondent and weaker in body
every day. Often his foster-mother would talk to
him in his own language, and tell him to be of
good cheer; but he was terribly homesick and
longed to get back to the mountains on the Rose-
bud, to tell the story of his daring and become the
hero which he had started out to be.
One night, after everybody had gone to sleep in
camp, and the fires had gone out, Old Looking-
Glass, who had seemed to be soundly sleeping,
approached his bed and gently touched his face.
Looking up, he saw that she held a forefinger
pressed against her lips, intimating that he must
keep silence, and that she was beckoning him to
go outside.
There she soon joined him; then, putting her
arm around his neck, she hastened out of the
camp and across the nearest hills.
When they had gone about five miles away from
camp, they came upon a pretty little mouse-

colored pony, which Old Looking-Glass had hid-
den there for Little Moccasin on the previous day.
She made him mount the pony, which she called
"Blue Wing," and bade him fly toward the rising
sun, where he would find white people who would
protect and take care of him.
Old Looking-Glass then kissed Little Moccasin
upon both cheeks and the forehead, while the tears
ran down her wrinkled face; she also folded her
hands upon her breast and, looking up to the
heavens, said a prayer, in which she asked the
Great Spirit to protect and save the poor boy in
his flight.
After she had whispered some indistinct words
into the ear of Blue Wing (who seemed to under-
stand her, for he nodded his head approvingly),
she bade Little Moccasin be off, and advised him
not to rest this side of the white man's settlement,
as the Crows would soon discover his absence, and
would follow him on their fleetest ponies.
"But Blue Wing will save you! He can outrun
them all "
These were her parting words, as he galloped
In a short time the sun rose over the nearest
hill, and Little Moccasin then knew that he was
going in the right direction. He felt very happy
to be free again, although sorry to leave behind
his kind-hearted foster-mother, Looking-Glass.
He made up his mind that after a few years, when
he had grown big and become a warrior, he would
go and capture her from the hated Crows and
take her to his own tepee.
He was so happy in this thought that he had
not noticed how swiftly time passed, and that
already the sun stood over his head; neither had
he urged Blue Wing to run his swiftest; but that
good little animal kept up a steady dog-trot, with-
out, as yet, showing the least sign of being tired.
But what was the sudden noise which was heard
behind him? Quickly he turned his head, and, to
his horror, he beheld about fifty mounted Crows
coming toward him at a run, and swinging in
their hands guns, pistols, clubs and knives !
His old enemy, Iron Bull, was in advance, and
under his right arm he carried a long lance, with
which he intended to spear Little Moccasin, as
a cruel boy spears a bug with a pin.
Moccasin's heart stood still for a moment with
fear; he knew that this time they would surely
kill him if caught. He seemed to have lost all
power of action.
Nearer and nearer came Iron Bull, shouting at
the top of his voice.
But Blue Wing now seemed to understand the
danger of Moccasin's situation; he pricked up his
ears, snorted a few times, made several short


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jumps, to fully arouse Moccasin, who remained peril, and he patted and encouraged Blue Wing;
paralyzed with fear, and then, like a bird, fairly while, from time to time, he looked back over his
flew over the prairie, as if his little hoofs were not shoulder to watch the approach of Iron Bull.
touching the ground. Thus they went, on and on ; over ditches and
Little Moccasin, too, was now awakened to his streams, rocks and hills, through gulches and
VOL. XV.-49.






valleys. Blue Wing was doing nobly, but the
pace could not last forever.
Iron Bull was now only about five hundred yards
behind and gaining on him.
Little Moccasin felt the cold sweat pouring down
his face. He had no fire-arm, or he would have
stopped to shoot at Iron Bull.
Blue Wing's whole body seemed to tremble
beneath his young rider, as if the pony was mak-
ing a last desperate effort, before giving up from
Unfortunately, Little Moccasin did not know
how to pray, or he might have found some comfort
and help thereby; but in those moments, when a
terrible death was so near to him, he did the next
best thing: he thought of his mother and his father,
of his little sisters and brothers, and also of Look-
ing-Glass, his kind old foster-mother.
Then he felt better and was imbued with fresh
courage. He again looked back, gave one loud,
defiant yell at Iron Bull, and then went out of
sight over some high ground.
Ki-yi-yi-yi! There is the railroad station just
in front, only about three hundred yards away.
He sees white men around the buildings, who will
protect him.
At this moment Blue Wing utters one deep
groan, stumbles, and falls to the ground. Fortu-
nately, though, Little Moccasin has received no
hurt. He jumps up, and runs toward the station
as fast as his weary legs can carry him.
At this very moment Iron Bull with several of
his braves came in sight again, and, realizing the
helpless condition of the boy, they all gave a shout
of joy, thinking that in a few minutes they would
capture and kill him.
But their shouting had been heard by some of

the white men, who at once concluded to protect
the boy, if he deserved aid.
Little Moccasin and Iron Bull reached the door of
the station-building at nearly the same moment;
but the former had time enough to dart inside and
hide under the table of the telegraph operator.
When Iron Bull and several other Crows rushed
in to pull the boy from underneath the table, the
operator quickly took from the table-drawer a
revolver, and with it drove the murderous Crows
from the premises.
Then the boy had to tell his story, and he was
believed. All took pity upon his forlorn condi-
tion, and his brave flight made them his friends.
In the evening Blue Wing came up to where
Little Moccasin was resting and awaiting the arrival
of the next train, which was to take him back to
his own home.
Little Moccasin threw his arms affectionately
around Blue Wing's neck, vowing that they never
would part again in life.
Then they both were put aboard a lightning
express train, which took them to within a short
distance of the old camp on the Rosebud.
When Little Moccasin arrived at his father's
tefee, riding beautiful Blue Wing, now rested and
frisky, the whole camp flocked around him; and
when he told them of his great daring, of his cap-
ture and his escape, Running Antelope, the big
warrior of the Uncapapas and the most noted
orator of the tribe, proclaimed him a true hero,
and then and there begged his pardon for having
called him a coffee-cooler." In the evening
Little Moccasin was honored by a great feast, and
the name of "Rushing Lightning," Wakee-wata-
keefee, was bestowed upon him -and by that
name he is known to this day.


--Cs ae Sl~s~s~s-~



S_ OLLS! So far as I have
been able to discover,
there 's not a girl, from
the snow hutsof the North
Pole to the leaf tents
of the Equator,- north,
1. '_ .. south, east, or west, who
1 '" has notsome sortofadoll.
..' I I doubt if there ever
"' lived a girl in that deso-
late condition, for a bit of rolled-up rag or a corn-
cob, a long-necked squash or a stick of wood, is easily
imagined to be all that the little owner desires, and
is often far more tenderly loved and cherished than
the finest French wax-doll in the world. A poppy
blossom or a hollyhock makes a charming doll;
and I have seen a lovely one made and dressed from
the tender inside husks of green-corn.
Even Laura Bridgman, born deaf and dumb and
blind, who was as far as possible removed from or-
dinary girl-life,- even she had her doll, with a rib-
bon over its eyes (as though blind), and she amused
herself with it, acting her own sad life as happier
girls do theirs: playing it was ill and must have
medicine and h ot-water bottles at its feet; and insist-
ing that the doctor should visit it, and feel its pulse.
In civilized life dolls' fashions change with the
rest of the world. For a long time they have
enjoyed complete outfits of clothes, jewelry, and
"belongings," like their mistresses; they have
been able to sit down and to stand up; to move
their eyes and turn their heads, to walk, and to
say "Papa" and "Mamma." If Edison is a
prophet (and considering what he has done, we 're
afraid to say he is not), we shall have before long
little doll-prodigies who can tell stories and sing
songs. Then, I dare say, the Sugar-Coated-Use-
ful-Knowledge Society will manufacture small
monsters able to teach grammar and arithmetic.
When that comes to pass, I fear dolls will go
out of fashion; for these learned personages can
never be the dear playmates, the sympathizing
sharers of youthful griefs, that simpler creatures
(who can't do a thing except lie flat on the back
and stare) have been for ages.
Cosette, in Victor Hugo's story, made a doll out
of a lead sword only a few inches long. She

loved it and was happy, till a pitying but unwise
traveler gave her a really splendid doll. The
neglected girl was very thankful, of course, and
profoundly admired the grand dame; but she
stood in awe of her, and "felt as uncomfortable as
she would if some one had suddenly said, Little
girl, you are Queen of France.' "
Among the wild Indians of our own country is
surely the last place one would look for toys, and
travelers have said they had none; but a closer
look brings some to light. On the desk before
me sit two dear creatures, just arrived from Da-

S ..s. -, v o,,


kota Territory. They were made by some loving
mother of the Gros Ventre tribe of Indians. But
the unfortunate little redskin girl for whom they
were intended never received them after all, for
they were bought by a white man, and sent to
New York to sit for their picture for you.


They are a queer-looking pair, dressed in the most
elegant Gros Ventre style. They are eighteen inches
tall, made of cloth, with their noses sewed on, and
their faces well colored; not only made red, like the
skin, but with painted features. The Indian doll has
a gentle expression, with mild eyes, but the squaw
has a wild look, as though she were very much
scared to find herself in a white man's "tepee."
Both have long hair in a braid over each ear, but the
brave has also a quantity hanging down his back, and
acreststandingupontop-perhaps as scalp-lock."
The dress of the lady resembles, in style and
material, a bathing-suit. It is of blue flannel,
trimmed with red braid, a long blouse and leg-
gins of the same. She has also moccasins, and a
string of blue beads around her neck, besides little
dots of beads all over her waist. The suit of the
warrior is similar in style, but the blouse is of
unbleached muslin, daubed with streaks of red
paint, and trimmed with braid, also red. Across
his breast he wears an elaborate ornament of white
beads, gorgeous to behold.
Beside these Gros Ventre dolls stands another
pair, from a Canada tribe; the squaw dragging
a six-inch-long toboggan loaded with tent
and poles, while the warrior carries his
snow-shoes. She is dressed in red
and black flannel, with calico blouse
and cloth hood; tin bracelets are on
her arms, and her breast bears an
ornament like a dinner-plate, also of
tin. Her lord and master wears a
dandyish suit of white canton-flannel,
fuzzy side out, a calico shirt, red neck-
tie, and likewise a hood and tin din-
ner-plate. They are made of wood,
with joints at hip and shoulder, and
the faces are carved and painted.
Wild dolls are curious and interest-
ing. Let me tell you of a few others
I have seen.
The little Moquis girls have wooden
dolls of different sizes and degrees.
The best have arms and legs, are
dressed in one garment of coarse
cotton, and instead of hair have
feathers sticking out of their heads,
like the ends of a feather duster.
A lower grade of Moquis doll has no limbs, but
is gayly painted in stripes, and wears beads as big
as its fist would be, if it had one. This looks as
you would with a string of oranges around your
neck. The poorest of all, which has evidently been
loved by some poor little Indian girl, has in place
of a head a sprig of evergreen. How did the
white man get hold of a treasure like this ? Is the
little owner grown up ? Is she laid to sleep under

the daisies ? Or was this doll left behind in a hur-
ried flight of the Moquis village before an enemy ?
It is n't an Edison doll; it can't talk,--so we
shall never know.
The Sitka girls have dolls of leather; black,
greasy-looking creatures, I regret to say, with
beads for eyes and mouth, and dresses of fur. They
have also a poorer doll, of clay, with the nose
formed, when the clay was soft, by the summary
process of a good pinch in the face; and a lavish
display of beads made by small punches in the
same soft material. The dress of these Sitka
babies is simple,-a piece of coarse Indian cloth
wound around the body and tied on with a rag.
Another leather doll
belongs to the little
Micmac girl. This is
finer than the last-
named, however, for
the leather is light-
colored; and it has a
nose not pinched up in
front, but punched out

from behind, and held in shape by something
hard. It has black beads for eyes, and mouth
and eyebrows of black paint. In dress it is quite
grand; moccasins, leggins, and calico gown, with
a liberal amount of bead trimming and necklaces.
The small Sioux maiden also has a doll of leather,
black, and with beads for eyes and mouth.
A Nez Perci girl has contributed to us whether
willingly or not-her dear doll in its cradle of



basket-work. It is a rag-baby about eight inches
long, and as tightly tied into the cradle as the
poor little Nez Perci girl herself was tied into hers.
Many a long, happy journey has this eight-inch
pappoose taken, slung over the back of its loving
mamma; many a swing has it enjoyed, hanging
from a bush; and many a greasy dinner has it
shared with its little owner,- at least, so one must
judge from its looks.
The dusky damsel of Alaska has an ivory doll.
It is carved from walrus tusk, any length from one
to six inches, with nose carved, and eyes, eye-
brows, and mouth of black enamel. Even the
inch-long baby has features carefully made. She
has also a doll of wood, six or eight inches long,
with its face carved and a curious ornament just
below the corners of the mouth. This is a blue
bead, and is in imitation of the fashion of her
tribe, of making in the lower lip an opening like
a button-hole, through which any desired orna-
ment may be thrust. None of the Alaska dolls
have joints, but this unnatural stiffness has appar-
ently not been altogether satisfactory to the small
damsels, for some are carved in a sitting posture.
The most humble doll is simply a stick with a
head carved on the end. But the most elaborate
of all the Indian dolls I have seen belongs also to
Alaska. It is carved from dark-colored wood, with
mouth open, showing three white teeth, and it
has real hair, in locks six inches long, stuck into
holes in the wooden head, with the drollest
"patchy effect.
After reading about these wild creatures, listen to
an interesting story of the tragic fate of a highly
civilized doll which belonged to a little girl called
Jeanie Welsh. It was, no doubt, an old-fashioned
object, for more than seventy years have passed
since the tragedy happened, but little Jeanie was
very fond of it.
She was also fond of study, especially of Latin,
and when she reached the age of nine years, and
began to read Virgil, there came a crisis in her
affairs which you must read in her own words :
"It had been intimated to me by one whose
wishes were law, that a young lady in Virgil
should, for consistency's sake, drop her doll. So
the doll, being judged, must be made an end of,
and I quickly decided how. She should end as
Dido ended, that doll !-as the doll of a young
lady in Virgil should end! With her dresses,
which were many and sumptuous, her four-posted
bed, a fagot or two of cedar allumettes, a few
sticks of cinnamon, a few cloves, and a nutmeg,
I constructed her funeral pyre; and the new Dido
having placed herself in the bed, with help, spoke
through my lips the last sad words of Dido the
First, which I had then all by heart as pat as A,

B, C. The doll, having thus spoken, kindled the
pile, and stabbed herself with a penknife by way
of a Tyrian sword. Then, however, in the mo-
ment of seeing my poor doll blaze up,-for being
stuffed with bran, she took fire and it was all over
in no time,-in that supreme moment, my affec-
tion for her blazed up also, and I shrieked, and
would have saved her and could not, and went on
shrieking till everybody within hearing flew to me
and bore me off in a plunge of tears."
This same little girl grew up and became the
wife of Thomas Carlyle, and this pathetic little
incident is to be found in his Life, by Froude-
the last place one would look for a doll story.

[The Editor is tempted to supplement Mrs. Olive
Thorne Miller's interesting article with brief accounts
of another Indian doll and two old-fashioned dolls,
which have been faithfully pictured by the pencils of
ST. NICHOLAS artists.]



BONITA" is about a foot tall, and is dressed in
the best style the wigwam could supply. She has


real skin, and real hair,- real buckskin, and real
horse-hair, if I must confess it! Charming pink
cheeks on her very yellow face; expressive bead
eyes, and a very unique little group of beads that
does service for both nose and mouth
surprisingly well. Two black beads,
placed in a line between two white
ones, form each of the cleverly made
eyes. Her raven hair is plaited in
eighth-of-an-inch braids, and tied
behind with a tiny buckskin ribbon.
Not to be sparing of her charms,
she has also two graceful braids fall-
ing in front of her shoulders.
If Bonita had stayed in her wig-
wam home, she probably might have
had two or three dresses, put .on"
outside of this one-to refresh her
soiled toilet, after the manner of her
tribe. But we think her quite fresh
enough in this gorgeous red-flannel
dress, bound with yellow calico She
has square sleeves that quite envelop
her spare arms, and marvelous
square side-breadths that dip lower
than the rest. She wears six strands
of milk-white beads about her throat,
and others dotted over her dress yoke.
An indescribable pendant of tin ban-
gles is suspended from her buckskin
belt, which is also trimmed in tin
ornaments. Excelling all else in deft
workmanship are her wonderful little
moccasins. An Indian Goody Two-
Shoes might have worn them, so
soft and pliable are they. They
are exquisitely embroidered in blue
and red floss, and have tiny silk bind-
ing, sewed with invisible stitches.
Perhaps her little mistress imagined her a dusky
Cinderella, home from the ball, crouching before
the ashes of the camp-fire. Alas when the clock
struck twelve, her elegant mouse-tooth necklace
and doe-skin dress vanished as she evaded the
Indian Prince!


HERE is, also, an engraving of two interesting
and quaint old dolls which were made by other
than Indian hands, and for other than little In-
dian children to play with.
One of them, as you see, is a boy-doll. He is
made of wood, and has joints at the elbows, the
thighs, and the knees. The features of the face
are painted. He wears a coat cut in the style of

sixty years ago, and. the coat and trousers both
are of black silk. The vest is short-waisted, and
made of some white material. An old-fashioned
"stock" and shirt-collar add a touch of elegance

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to the little gentleman's costume. The hat is
quite remarkable for a boy-doll. It is made upon
a frame, which is covered with drab-colored muslin,
and around the crown is tied a band of green rib-
bon, with an edging of pearl color. There is no
doubt that it was in its day a very fitting hat for a
gentleman puppet; but a self-respecting boy-doll
of the present would regard it with scorn, and
would prefer to go bare-headed if he could not be
provided with a hat of a more modern fashion.
The lady-doll's hat, too, is a triumph of doll
millinery. It is of a style similar to the Gains-
borough" hat, and the crown and the flaring wide
brim, upon which is placed a large rosette, are
covered with white silk brocade. It is held on by
ribbons which are tied under the doll's chin. The
dress, with its short waist and long sleeves, is
made of white silk, and the whole costume appears



to be that of a doll-bride of long ago. The lady-
doll's face is painted, like that of her companion,
and even now the faces are rosy and fresh-looking
notwithstanding the fact that the dolls have passed
through the hands of three generations of children.
For the lady to whom they belong, Mrs. L. D.
Bradish, of Fredonia, New York, has told their
history briefly in a letter, in which she says:

"In June, 1827, my brother graduated from Hobart College,
Geneva, N. Y., and when he came home he brought these dolls to
my sister and myself. They were dressed by a young lady, a friend
of his.
"I am often asked how I have kept these dolls so long. The
answer is: This house has been our family home since my father
built it, in s812. Three generations of children have found shelter
under its roof, and amused themselves with these midgets. My
friends tell me that, under these circumstances, they are not sur-
prised that I wish to preserve the little tatterdemalions."


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A stands for anchor, that hangs at our bows,
Yo, ho, blow the man down!'
MIND the sheet, Tom ; we shall have all the blow we want with-
out singing for it, before we reach Little River. You and Harry
had better sail her while I go forward on the lookout. With this tide,
some of the rocks will barely be covered, and there must be quite a
sea running into the mouth of the river. Christopher Columbus!
what is that? Hard a-port, Hal! Quick, let out sheet, Tom 1
Be lively "
The excited and peremptory tone of the orders urged prompt
obedience, and like a thing of life the little boat swung suddenly
around before the wind, and the next moment plunged, bows on,
into the first wave.
"Boys, did you see that? "
None too quickly had Harry and Tom obeyed Dick's commands.
See it? Well, I should say I did. And we came nearfeeling
it, too!" answered Tom.
Well, if that big black thing is a rock it has lost its anchorage
and gone adrift. I never saw a rock floating about in that style,
though. What is it, anyway? asked Harry.
"It was about the size of a nwhale, I should say, was n't it, Tom ?"
asked Dick.
Yankeedom has sharpened you, Dick. It certainly was a whale;
and it's lucky for all of us, and for the boat, too, that you shouted so
"There he blows cried Dick, pointing off the port bow. Bring
her up to the wind ; he 's out of our course. Haul in the sheet,
Tom; stea-a-dy there, steady So That will do; we will risk this
course, professor; for, though we don't claim to be scientific nat-
uralists, I assume that whales do not eat cat-boats, crew and all,
as a regular diet."
"I don't know about that, Dick," said Harry; "when I
caught sight of that floating island coming at us, mouth on,
the thought of Jonah's journey whizzed through my mind. I
had almost decided that if I had to be drowned or swallowed,
I'd risk drowning as the lesser evil."
-- "Well, I would, too," said Tom, with a smile. As a
-'- professional naturalist, I would remark that the huge fellow
on our port bow seemed to be in a playful mood, and I was
.' thinking how, with one frisky flop of his graceful
tail, he could have made kindling wood and assorted


tooth-picks out of the 'Nomad,' and never known
it, bless his innocent heart!"

The whale makes a flail of the end of his tail,
Yo, ho, blow the man down !
While the shark on a lark makes the dogfishes bark,
Oh, give us more time to blow the man down.'

Joking aside," said Harry, stopping his song,
"we 've had rather a narrow escape, boys, from
ending our adventures by a trip to Davy Jones's
Locker! '"
For the next few minutes the slap and splash of
the waves were the only sounds heard aboard the
famous cat-boat "Nomad "; but the three hearty
lads who formed its crew were too full of healthy
life, in mind and body, to waste time or thought
over past dangers. Dick removed his thinking cap,
and said:
I say, fellows, this wind is veering around to
an off-shore breeze that will flatten out these white-
caps. What do you say to a sail out to Pumpkin
Good was Tom's ready response.
"Pumpkin Rock it is," assented Harry. "But-
I 'd like to get that whale off my mind; and before
I can do it, I suppose I shall have to confess one of
two things: either I was so frightened that I could
not see straight, or else I saw that whale swim-
ming upside down., Laugh as you please, Dick,
but -"
Don't apologize," interrupted Dick; I was
only chuckling to hear you speak my piece. You
said just what I was going to say,-but I did n't
like to show my ignorance."
"Well," continued Harry, "I think he was
upside down, because I plainly saw his wicked little
eye, and it was just above the water, close down by
the corner of that cavern of a mouth, while his big
chin was high in the air. All right, Tom, you
can laugh, too; but you can't laugh me out of
what I myself saw; and I say it again,- his chin
was up and his eyes were down, which the same
I am free to maintain.'"
That was n't his chin," laughed Tom; that
was his bonnet."
"Spin away on your yarn, professor; but what
sort of millinery is a whale's bonnet ?" And as he
spoke, Dick, rolling up an overcoat, made a cushion,
and placed himself in a comfortable attitude for
"Well," continued Tom, "what you thought
was his chin, high in the air, was a sort of pro-
tuberance on the end of his upper jaw; the sailors
call it his 'bonnet.' Our departed friend was a
black whale, I think; there is a skeleton of one
in the Museum of Natural History at Central
Park, New York. I 'm not much of an artist, but


if Dick will take hold of the sheet, I will take your
sketching-block and try to draw you an outline."
After some labor, Tom exhibited three outline
drawings. f
There, if you can make them out, are three
views of the black whale: a top view, a side
view, and a front view. You fellows need not feel
ashamed of your ignorance, for I venture to say
there is not one landsman in a hundred who knows
how a whale looks, or could tell which side goes
up and which side goes down ; and still fewer know
the difference between a right-whale and- "
Oh, drown your whales for a while, Tom.
Here's Pumpkin Rock dead-ahead, and we will
have enough to do to make a safe landing," inter-
rupted Dick, unceremoniously.
"All right, Captain Dick," said Tom, good-
naturedly. If that whale is now off Harry's
mind, as he expressed it, I 'll pick up Pumpkin
Rock; but it is not within reach yet."
I'm thinking," and Harry continued his think-
ing aloud, that if we reach that rock too suddenly,
it's the crew of the 'Nomad' that will have to be
picked up. I fail to see any possible landing-places.
What an immense, odd, round bolder it is It
does n't look much like a pumpkin, though, does it?
It looks like an advance scout for the army of islands
behind it, that form the State of Maine's skirmish
line in her battle with the sea."
Quite poetic; only make them the rear-guard
instead of the skirmishers, for I think geologists
say that this part of the coast is in full retreat from
old Neptune's repeated assaults, and that these
islands are the stragglers cut off from the Maine
body," answered Tom, who was a punster.
"All right, Tom; I accept your amendment.
Old Pumpkin rock is all the braver, to stand out
alone, and in the face of an advancing and vic-
torious foe. Oh, my Look at the gulls "
Thousands of these birds circled, wheeled, and
screamed above them, as the boys carefully worked
their little craft around in the lee of the apparently
inaccessible rock, at the same time keeping a sharp
lookout for a possible landing-place.
We can't fetch it on this tack," said Dick.
"Take another tack, and bring her in as easy as
you know how; this is no boat-house float, and
the unexpected too frequently happens in this style
of landing "
I say, Dick, it 's a lucky thing that you are no
false prophet, for if that off-shore breeze had not
done its work and smoothed out the wrinkles of
the sea, we could never have landed here with dry
skins," said Harry.
"That's so," assented Tom. Even with a
smooth sea and favorable breeze, any fellow who
goes ashore here risks a ducking; and I think, if

* See One Day on a Desert Island," ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1882, and Tom, Dick, and Harry in Florida,"
ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1883. t See tail-piece, page 784.



it were not so dangerous a locality for boats, there
would n't be a single bird left on the rock. Those
that were not shot, trapped, and slaughtered for
millinery shops would have emigrated to more in-
accessible lands."
The smooth rollers of a quiet sea washed to and
fro among the long streamers and ribbons of sea-
weed which festooned and covered the rocks below
high-water mark, as the graceful little sail-boat,
with rattling of rigging and rustling of canvas
folded away her one white sail, and then nosed
her way gently among the sunken rocks to the only
accessible landing-place, while thousands upon
thousands of the beautiful tern fluttered and
swarmed overhead.
Harry remained aboard, declaring he could not
miss the chance of studying so novel and beautiful
a "decorative theme." So Tom and Dick left
him there rocked by the gentle swaying of the
boat and soothed by the lullaby of a summer sea.
He lay flat on his back, gazing up at the myriads
of slender-winged, graceful birds that fretted the
deep luminous blue of the sky with a moving net-

work pattern of silver and gray. While Harry
was thus dreaming over this symphony of color,
form, and sound, Tom and Dick clambered to the
top of Pumpkin Rock.
Dick was a true sportsman, and could exult over
a big bag of legitimate game as only a hunter can.
He possessed the cool head and steady nerve
necessary to the slayer of dangerous wild beasts;
but he was no "pot-hunter," ard never killed for
the sake of slaughter. So when, at Tom's re-
peated request, he finally discharged one barrel
and brought down three poor little tern, he felt
very much as though he had done something of
which he ought to be ashamed.
After the two boys had admired the pretty gray
and white birds, with delicate little pink legs and
feet and rose-colored bills, Tom commenced his
scientific research by examining the contents of
the birds' craws. Dick watched him. Tom opened
the first bird, ascertained what it had eaten for its
dinner, and with an amused smile gazed curiously
all over the top of the rocky island; then he picked
up the second bird, and, after examining its craw



carefully, once more gazed around and over the
top of the barren rock with such a puzzled expres-
sion that Dick asked:
"Well, old fellow, what's up? What have you
In response, Tom hastily took the third bird
from Dick's hand, opened the craw, and, spreading

the contents over the
palm of his hand, held it
out to Dick and asked,
"What do you call
"Well," said Dick,
leisurely, I am not
sufficiently familiar with
'bug-ology' to give you
Latin names, but any
country school-boy could
tell you that you have
there a badly mussed-up
mess of hornets."
S"Just so," said Pro-
fessor Tom, "hornets;
and not a sign of any-
thing but hornets. The
other two were. exactly
the same. Now, Dick,
just look up there; there
must be thousands of
birds, and if each craw is
filled with hornets- "
Yes-s, I begin to
see," broke in Dick.
"You are wondering
how many swarms of
hornets it takes for one
Pumpkin Rock breakfast,
and where the birds get
them. This seems to be
about the barrenest old
place we have found yet,
now that we are out of
sight of the boat, and
surrounded by the sea
in all directions. I de-
clare I feel almost ship-
wrecked and lonesome.


perfectly motionless, escape the eyes of any person
who did not know their ways even though he were
looking for them, Dick forgot his "shipwrecked
lonesomeness" and went on a young tern hunt.
To his surprise he found tern everywhere, lying
flat and perfectly still on the smooth rocky surface,
or half hidden under shallow shelves and ledges.


-' -.'' 'j Lv,

I~ ~~ -b~~F~-

2- ------ ---



With that last bird every living thing left this Tom strolled away to explore a patch of tall rank
briny old rock-Oh, Jingo! Tom, where did it grass growing in a hollow of the big rock.
come from? "
While Dick was speaking, Tom had suddenly Now, Tom, if you and Dick have finished your
stepped forward a few paces, dropped his hat over yarns about land snails, and hornets and things ten
something on the rock surface, and, picking it up, miles out at sea, and if you can leave those baby
he handed Dick a young tern that pecked at him birds for a minute, I have an experience to relate."
viciously. The Nomad was speeding along at race-horse
When Tom had explained how the young birds, gait over a sparkling sea, homeward bound from
being just the color of the rock, would, when lying Pumpkin Rock, when Harry said this, and his

3 7 -1


speech was received with shouts of laughter from
his companions, who declared that Hal had been
found fast asleep when they came aboard.
"All right, Tom," said Dick; "just keep her
off a little; we will go outside of Fisherman's
Island. That 's it; now then, let us have 'Prince
Hal's Adventures in the Land of Nod.'"

ing. I looked down through the transparent green
water; the sea-weeds streamed and waved over the
white pebbles at the bottom, and I saw a few cun-
ners poising themselves under a ledge of rock. In
the shadow of that immense Pumpkin Rock I could
see under water nearly as plainly as above it;
nothing had fallen overboard, or I should have
seen it. While gazing on this submarine view,
-u.1.-.1 cl li!,..- : -,in out from under the boat,
S .1..l .:1ii .:.J :. irly across the clear space,
\ d;...,ir..":p-- .r behind some rocks-a-


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LIFE. (SEE PAGE 781.) appeared," continued
Harry, paying not the
slightest attention to the interruption, in hope that
it might come back, when suddenly it seemed to me
that somebody was looking at me. Ifeltthe look,
just as I used to feel old Professor Hall's spectacles
at the Academy, when I knew he was staring at me,
although my back was toward him. Well, I felt
a pair of eyes watching me. I slowly turned my
head, and there under the bows was the most
beautiful, gentle, gazelle-like pair of black eyes,
looking right at me. But just-at that instant,
bang went Dick's gun. I was so startled that I
nearly fell overboard; the beautiful eyes disap-
peared like a flash, and the same silky, wavy form
shot swiftly out of sight. That was the last I saw
of her. I leave you fellows to conclude anything

r I ",. '. -. .. -. ".
around me except the
'swish, swish' of the lazy


waves. The silence made me lonesome. I listened,
expecting to hear you fellows talk, laugh, shout, or
whistle, but not a sound could I hear,-only the
quiet swish, swish' of the smooth waves. It usu-
ally would have made me sleepy, but somehow
the stillness seemed so spread out that it made me
nervous instead. I began to think that perhaps
you fellows had fallen into some deep hole, stum-
bled over a precipice, or had slipped into the sea
and been drowned. I had been lying down; I
sat upright and listened. Just then I heard a sud-
den splash and gurgle, as though something or
somebody was overboard; I was nervous, and it
startled me for an instant. Then I leaned over the
gunwale, expecting to see some of our traps sink-

asked Tom and Dick in

ay well ask what," con-
ry; "I said, a form. I
;ee very clearly, but it was
although it had a sort of
Its motions were quick,
more graceful than any
body seemed glossy and
u know it is hard to judge
der water, but I think it
e been four feet long. I
v it a moment as it swam
d some rocks at the stern
ur boat, and I did not get
good look at its head, but
n passing round a rock, I
saw it, very plainly, fut
out its arm and push the
sea-weeds aside."
Arm ? shouted
bothhislisteners. "Oh!
here now! Take back
the arm that thou gav-
est us," added Dick,
I was watching the
snot where it had dis-



you please. I have told you exactly what I saw,
and I will add only that I believe many things we
laugh at and call sailors' superstitions may be pos-
Harry related his experience with so solemn a
face and manner that his "chums" forgot to chaff
him; but, after a few moments of silent reflection,
Dick said, abruptly:
Tom, unless Prince Hal was dreaming and
had a nightmare, he did see something. What
do you think it was ? "
"Well," responded Tom, "I have my suspicions,
although I am not quite sure; but I am positive
that I know what he thinks he saw. Did you
notice that the 'it' he began with, became a 'her'
as he concluded ? Just take a peep at his sketches
when he attempts to work out the decorative
theme' he staid aboard to study, and see if he
does not introduce a Mermaid !"

It was a beat to windward against the tide; but
in due course of time the "Nomad" passed the
rock-guarded opening, and brought up safely at a
most romantic spot on the mainland, where the
boys had made their camp.
It was Harry's turn to be cook; so Tom and
Dick, though hungry and tired, attended to lower-
ing the sail, and making everything taut and snug
aboard, while Harry busied himself with cleaning
and skinning a mess of cunners from the fish-box
(which the boys kept stored with fish and sub-
merged in the water conveniently near their camp).
After the fish were duly prepared, the fire started,
and a frying-pan nicely greased with fat bacon,
what was the amateur cook's surprise, as he turned
to pick up the fish to put in the pan, to see the
last fish he had cleaned disappearing over the
rocky side of his camp-fire stove, as if alive!
Hurriedly seizing it, he discovered who had hold
of the other end, and followed the thief so swiftly
and closely that he cornered him; and then and
there, with his kitchen-knife, Harry soon put an
end to Mr. Mink and his depredations.
When Tom and Dick came to dinner, their
nostrils were regaled with a savory smell which
made their mouths water.
My! exclaimed Dick, "how strange those
cunners smell."
Yes," said Tom; but there 's no fish-smell
about them. Say, Harry, what is it ? "
"You know very well that we had nothing but
the cunners to cook," grinned Harry.
"A four-legged cunner this one was," said
Dick, gazing suspiciously at the dish held out for
his inspection. I don't think I like cunners with
teeth, like that."
Well," said Harry, every man to his taste;

that fellow swallowed our cunners, so I skinned
and cooked him. I believe he 's what you call a
"A mink! Eat mink! Never heard of such a
thing," exclaimed Tom and Dick.
Nor I," assented Harry, with a smile. But
in Delaware they eat musk-rat, and I thought, so
long as we had- "
All right, Harry," interrupted Tom; any-
thing that tastes good, and is not poison, is fit for
food; so here goes for a fore-shoulder of mink-
venison." So saying, he carved himself a leg and
commenced eating ; he failed, however, either to
help himself, or to ask to be helped, to any more
mink; and both Harry and Tom developed a
sudden and phenomenal liking for bacon and

Ow-ow Whew! Ki-yi! shouted Tom, Dick,
and Harry, as they came dashing back to "Cove
Camp one morning, after a dip in the chilly sea-
I 'd like to hold a thermometer here, to see if
the mercury would n't burst through the bottom
of the bulb," said Dick.
"Well, ice-water is warm compared to this,"
said Harry, rubbing his ears, slapping his hands,
and jumping up and down as he talked. I don't
believe any human being could live ten minutes
in water so cold as that; and I, for one, shall take
no risks of going overboard while the 'Nomad'
cruises in these waters."
It does seem as if we had taken one bound from
the Gulf stream into the middle of an Arctic current!
But does n't this icy bath and bracing breeze give
a fellow an appetite ? Nature abhors a vacuum,' "
laughed Tom, and I feel as empty as a church
on a week-day."
Before long breakfast was ready, and it would
have made an epicure envious to see the boys eat.
When the keen edge of their appetites was dulled,
Dick, leaning back and leisurely sipping a second
cup of Hal's famous coffee :
Say, fellows, now what do you think of my
scheme the Maine coast for this summer's vaca-
tion ?"
'' It suits me, Dick," responded Tom; every-
thing is new to me and so entirely different. I
don't know that I have made any absolutely new
discoveries, but I have secured some rather rare
specimens for my collection, and-see here, you
know the high rocks on the point beyond Grimes's ?
Well, on top of those rocks, where you 'd think
that the fiercest storm could scarcely dash the
spray, I found some beautiful natural aquariums,
one some twenty feet long, and other smaller ones;
there must be very furious storms here to keep



those shallow rock-hollows so well supplied with
water that they don't dry up."
How do you know they don't ? There was n't
anything alive in them ? queried Harry.
"Most certainly there was," answered Tom,
"that is why I called them aquariums. I found
some of the most beautiful anemones that I have
ever seen. Whole schools of mackerel pin-min-
nows swam and skipped around the pond; and
besides numerous beautiful sea-weeds and plants,
there are many specimens of what Dick calls
'animal vegetation.' By the way, Harry, when we
were sailing past that point, you pointed out a lot
of crows walking around on those rocks, and won-
dered what they were up to; well, I found any
quantity of sea-urchins in my aquariums, and per-
haps those crows were after the urchins, for I found
plenty of broken shells also,- which looked as
though Mr. Crow had dropped them from a
height, cracked their skulls, and devoured the
unfortunate lodgers."
Prince Hal has not had a chance to put in his
vote yet. What do you think of the Maine scheme,
Hal? "
Dick, old fellow," said Harry enthusiastically,
it was an inspiration. You have heard me speak
of the pretty bits of meadow views along Long
Island shore -do you want to know what I think
of them now ? "
"Yes," said Dick, "I do like to hear a fellow
speak his piece, when he is in earnest and knows
what he is talking about, and you are a good
stump-speaker, Hal, so I say, Hear, hear "
Well," continued Harry, with his ardor a little
cooled by Dick's remarks, "I did use to make
speeches about thosebroad, flattracts of bottomless,
treeless, jelly-like mud-meadows, fringed to the
seaward by long monotonous stretches of barren,
sandy beaches, but then-- and here Harry be-
gan, as Dick said, to be "in earnest"; his eyes
sparkled, his cheeks flushed, as rising from his
seat, he emphasized his speech with appropriate
gestures, and continued: "I had never imagined
the wild, reckless grandeur of such a place as
this -where the huge storm-waves roll in from
the ocean and crash into white atoms of spray and
foam against the a the ragged irregularity
of the shattered rocks that line this shore ; where
even the forest pines and vegetation catch the a
daring spirit and audaciously venture to the
very edge of the sea. Why, the other day I
plucked a blushing wild-rose from a bush growing
in the -a the cleft of a huge rock which fairly
overhung the waves."
"Hear, hear! Bravo!" cried Dick, clapping
his hands, I begin to like this coast of Maine,

Indeed, it was a gala season for Tom, Dick, and
Harry, and they thoroughly enjoyed every hour of
the time.
Dick's adventurous spirit kept the pennant of
the "Nomad" flying, and the little boat darted back
and forth from the shelter of Cove Camp like
some new marine creature going forth in search
of food and scurrying back to its cove for safety.
He made friends of the captains and crews of the
mackerel-fleet which was hovering about in their
neighborhood; he became acquainted with all the
old fishermen, heard all their best stories, and fur-
nished game enough to keep the larder stored.
Harry found so much material for sketches that
he said he wasted most of his time in trying to de-
cide what was best worth sketching.
Tom was always finding something interesting
and new, and he loved to tell his comrades the
curious facts about the objects and animals that he
found. At low tide he was busy poking around
and under the slippery rocks, seeking curious shell-
fish and marine plants. He made many discov-
eries and found many curious things, but in all their
adventures neither he nor Dick ever had an expe-
rience to relate that would approach Harry's -
the "form" which put out "her" arm to push
aside the sea-weeds. This incident bothered Dick
considerably; but when he mentioned it to Tom,
that wise naturalist would only wink one eye and
say he had an idea. What it was he would not
tell; and Harry looked so solemn when the matter
was mentioned, that the others, for fear of offend-
ing him by incredulity, let the subject drop.
One very quiet day Harry was perched on a high
mass of rocks, sketching; he was trying to catch
the hazy, lazy effect of the mackerel-fleet, idly
drifting with the tide and melting away in the dis-
tance, where the sea joined the sky without a seam
or sign of horizon. Drowsily sunning their sails, the
fleet of graceful boats doubled their beauty on the
mirroring surface of a smooth, calm sea. Harry's
attention was gradually drawn from the shimmer-
ing scene to a certain hum of voices coming appar-
ently from somewhere below his feet. He stopped
work and listened. From his high perch he could
see all around him. Nothing alive was in sight,
and no sign of life nearer than the distant mack-
erel schooners. He walked to the edge of the
rock and looked over. It was low tide, and the
black and green slippery bowlders seemed to hide
nothing but a stray crab or lobster in their sea-
weed tresses. Harry was puzzled; he returned to
where he had been sitting; even more plainly
than before, he heard the hum of conversation.

The day was very calm, and there was no wind
for sailing; so, when Tom started on his low-tide



-: oi;.:.I. L'r i ii i tl-i h i ^ -
f om had hlled his pockets with -' -
objects which Dick called snaps .
and snails and dogfish tails," and was thinking
of returning, when Dick said :
"Say, Tom, I know where there is a big hole

you have n't looked into. I passed it the other
day, but I did n't have time to stop then. Suppose
we investigate it ?"
Tom was only too glad to go, so Dick led the
way around the face of a huge pile of rocks.
Here the boys found an opening to a cave, so
situated that it could not be seen from inshore,
and although dry at low tide, at high tide the
water must have filled the opening entirely. Step-
ping inside, Dick and Tom found themselves in a
circular chamber hollowed out of the solid rock.
It was six or more feet high, and as many wide;
the walls were hung with drapery of sea-weed, all
studded and decorated with starfish and sea-ur-
chins, hanging and lodged where the tide had left
them. The floor was fairly carpeted with the stars
and prickly balls.
"Well, I never should have imagined that
there was such a cave as this. under these solid

Z) L-



rocks. .What immense sea-monster ever hollowed
out such a gloomy retreat ? Dick asked ; adding
with a slight shudder: "Bah! what an uncom-
fortable place to be caught in by an incoming tide."
Yes, I think it would be uncomfortable. I
never did appreciate this diving down under rocks
and coming up in submarine grottoes, that we
read about so often," replied Tom.
But what made it? How do you account for
it, Tom ? It seems to be so regular and round."
Yes, it is. I have read of such places. They
are supposed to have been made by some large
fragment of rock which, becoming loosened,
moves back and forth by the action of waves and
tides. Its edges wear off more and more, and all


the time it grinds the sides of the rocks wherever
it touches, until it wears a round hole for itself;
and gradually, after no one knows how many ages,
it is worn small enough to be washed out at the
mouth of the hole it has made."
'The mills of the gods grind slowly,'" said
Dick. Let 's get out of here. It 's a dark and
uncanny place, at best." The two boys looked at
each other curiously, when they heard the last of
Dick's words repeated plainly, "Best !" They were
not frightened, but thought it strange that so small
a chamber should have an echo. To test it, Dick
called out, "Who?"
"You immediately responded the echo, faint-
ly, but very plainly; and before they could try again
the same faint, clear voice spoke: Daring mortals,
flee this rock; 't is sacred to the Mermaid flock."


The boys were wonder-struck for a moment,
and then began a hurried search, feeling around
the sides for an opening under the sea-weeds.
Tom, who had been examining the roof, suddenly
made a dive for the entrance, and scrambled out.
Dick, after glancing up, climbed after Tom. Clam-
bering over the moist bowlders, around the pile of
rocks, and up on shore, he found Tom standing alone.

Did n't you catch him ?" asked Dick.
"No, but here 's the hole he talked through,"
and Tom pointed to a crevice in the rock, which
very evidently opened into the submarine cave.
Yes, and see,--he has left his card so that we
should know him," said Dick as he picked up a
small tube marked "Burnt Sienna."
I was thinking," said Tom, looking up, "that,
with a high
tide, some of
the biggest
waves must
jam into this
cave with an
awful force, I
and then this
hole "
"That 's
so! inter- .
erupted Dick.
"I see your
idea. This a t
must be one
of those fa-
ing rocks.
The first time there is a high tide and a heavy surf
we must be sure to come again and see it spout."

When Harry heard the voices below him, he
soon discovered the crevice, and, lying down, he
could hear the talk of his two companions.
After trying to frighten them he hastily retreated,
and, hiding behind a tree, awaited the result.
While Dick was exploring the crevice, Tom
sauntered on, and soon shouted, Hi Dick, come
here! I 've found it at last Come here!"
Harry came, too; for Tom was standing on a
ledge of rock below him, and he looked down
from his hiding-place as Dick came running up.
"Found what ?" he asked; then, as Tom straight-
ened up from an object he was poking, Dick added,
"Oh, you 've found a dead seal, have you ?"
No," said Tom, solemnly; no, Dick. Poor
Prince Hal! Don't you see, Dick, it's a 'form.'
Some one has slain poor Harry's Mermaid "

l~x..: -'

*I; ..

F -N ...,..:U -I '.





You are used, girls and boys, to your school-
rooms and black-boards, to your satchels and
books, your slates and pencils. Maybe you think
it hard, sometimes, that you have problems to
solve, boundaries to learn, and sentences to parse.
But how would it seem to you to be awakened
from a sound sleep, every morning before day-
light, to learn a lesson in Sanskrit, that ancient
and most difficult language, familiar to but few,
and those, usually, eminent scholars? To learn
Sanskrit is a greater task than to learn Greek, and
a much greater task than to learn Latin.
This is what a little Hindu girl named Rama-
bai had to do. She was awakened every morning
before the day dawned, for her Sanskrit lesson;
this being the only time her mother could spare
from household cares to teach her little daughter.
Their dwelling was on the mountains, in a
forest clearing, and there were wild animals in the
jungles all about them. The first night that Rama-
bai's young mother spent in that solitude, before
they had any house at all, she lay upon the ground,
wrapped in a cotton quilt, trembling with terror;
meanwhile her husband watched until daybreak,
keeping off a great tiger which prowled about
them uttering hideous cries. After their home was
built, the husband, who was a Brahman priest, and
also a very wise and good man, taught his young
wife Sanskrit, because he loved the poems written
in that language, and wished her to enjoy them
with him. So, when Ramabai was six or seven
years of age, her mother, in turn, taught her little
daughter Sanskrit, from her own lips, without any
book. We are told that "The little maiden,
heavy with sleep, was tenderly lifted from her bed
upon the earth, and aroused with many endear-
ments and sweet mother-words; and then, while
the birds in the forest about them were chirping
their morning songs, the lessons were repeated."
The father's dwelling-place in the mountains
came to be regarded as sacred by the people, and
students and pilgrims sought out the learned priest.
His hospitality and religious duties involved him
in debt; and by the time Ramabai was nine years
old, his property was so diminished that the family
were obliged to give up their home, and to wander
about from one locality to another, as pilgrims
themselves. So we have to think of Ramabai, not
VOL. XV.--o. 5

It--.. ._ .
1 -W- -4 E


only as the child student of Sanskrit, but as a little
pilgrim girl, roaming up and down the earth, from
the time she was nine until she was sixteen-
homeless and often in want.


Ramabai afterward became known as a Sanskrit
scholar and lecturer. She married a graduate of
the Calcutta University, but in less than two years
was a widow with a little daughter of her own,
named Manorama, meaning Heart's Joy.
Her love of education was so great that she then
went to England and entered the college at Chel-
tenham, where she became Professor of Sanskrit,
and at the same time studied mathematics, natu-
ral science, and English literature.
In 1886, she came to our own country, and at
the time of this writing, she is still here.

She has a lofty purpose. It is that Hindu girls
shall be educated-fully, amply educated; and
that with their studies they shall also learn to be
teachers, governesses,' nurses, and housekeepers.
The girls of India have lived under a cloud of
ignorance, and in bonds of caste and custom
which, it has seemed, no hand could break. But
Ramabai, who learned her lessons in the forest
among the singing birds, has found her way into
light and liberty, and will never rest content until
she has thrown open the doors so that her Hindu
sisters may follow her.



YOUNG persons often wish to give an entertain-
ment which shall be interesting, without involving
too much labor in its preparation. Shadow-panto-
mimes, of which ST. NICHOLAS already has told
you something,* answer this purpose admirably.
There are no speaking parts to be learned, and
any boys and girls can do the required acting.
As for objects of scenery and striking points of
costume, these can be cut out of cardboard, news-
paper, or anything that will cast a shadow; in-
deed, all the characters, costumes, and surround-
ings are shown only by their shadows. These are

cast upon large translucent screens, or, better
still, upon a sheet so suspended as to divide the
actors from the spectators.
A double doorway between rooms affords an
excellent place for this screen, which should be
stretched across as smoothly as possible. If the
sheet be wrung out of water before being stretched,
it will dry smooth and tight. Where the space
requires it, two or more sheets may be stitched
together to form the screen.
Next in importance is the light, which may be
anything fiom a magic lantern down to a tallow

* See "he Modern and Mediaeval Ballad of Mary Jane," by Henry Baldwin, a shadow-play, with directions,
ST. NICHOLAS, Vol. IV., p. 202.


candle. One person should be delegated to manage
this light behind the screen, and another the
lights in front of it, for the spectators' room must
be darkened during the performance.
The best way to "drop the curtain is to ob-
scure the light behind the screen, and at the same
time to turn up the light in the spectators' room.
The light which is to cast the shadows should
be at such height and distance behind the screen
as will bring the shadows of the actors into the
proper places, and make them of the desired size.
The actors should try to keep as close to the
screen ana as much in profile as possible; and care
shouldbe taken that their arms, and any objects
held in their hands, such as pasteboard weapons,
canes, baskets, etcetera, cast distinct, characteristic
Let us take one performance in detail. Almost
any dramatic poem, song, or story may be chosen
for shadow-pantomime. It should be clearly sung
or recited while the actors perform their dumb-
show. I shall give you
the well-known tragic
~- j story, "The Ballad of
the Oysterman," writ-
ten by Dr. Oliver
S Wendell Holmes. This
has been found easy to
1. = represent, and proved
to be a decided success.
While the words are
being very distinctly sung or spoken, the actors do
their shadow-parts to the best of their ability.
The illustrations given with the ballad show some
of the more striking situations, but the gestures
will be found to add very greatly to their effect.
In this, as in all other amusing performances,
liveliness of action must be tempered by modera-
tion, and the acting must be in perfect keeping with
the story to be represented.
The effect of river-banks may be given by tables,
one on each side of the stage, covered with any
thick cloth. Irregularities in the contour of the
shores are readily made by various objects placed
on the tables under the cloth and near the screen,
so as not to interfere with the actors when they are
obliged to stand on the tables. Water is well
represented by mosquito netting-the sort without
cross-bars or coarse tarlatan, reaching from
table to table, a few inches behind the screen.
If held at the upper corners by hidden assistants,
and very gently waved or shaken, the effect is
If it be desired to present the "tragedy after
the most approved style, the water is best arranged
as follows: Suppose the screen, on which the
shadows are thrown, to be stretched across a wide

doorway. Small screw-pointed hooks should be
screwed about six inches apart into the edge of
the door-jamb; two
on each side, at the
height intended for
7 the water-level in
the first part of the
performance; and
/ two more on each
/ .side at the water-
level for the last
Srverse. A trian-
gular block of wood
should now be
hung by screw-eyes
to these hooks, as
shown in the illus-
tration, the base
of the block resting solidly against the wall, its
apex projecting. Wires should be run from the cor-
ners of this block to a similar piece on the opposite
side of the doorway. Now, the edge of a broad
piece of plain mosquito netting should be sewed
or threaded along the lower wire, and the rest of
the netting thrown over the upper wire from behind
forward, and allowed to fall to the floor, thus form-
ing a slanting double layer of netting above, and a
perpendicular single layer below. This arrange-
ment gives, in shadow, the effect of a perspective
view of the surface of the water, and a perpen-
dicular section beneath the surface. It also makes
it easy to change quickly the depth of the water
for the final scene, by simply raising the blocks
from the lower to the upper hooks.
The fish, and other properties cut from paste-
board, may be stationary or movable, as preferred.
If fish are to swim, they may be pulled along on
strings or fine thread-wire.
The moon is cut from pasteboard, and suspended
by strong thread from above the door. The ex-
pression of the face can be changed when desired

by a simple pivoted card, provided with threads
for moving it up and down. The eye may be made
to wink the eyelid" being held up by a weak
rubber-band, which replaces it after a wink."

As the first line of the fourth verse is read, the
oysterman should leap away from the screen at an
angle, so that his shadow is not seen to cross the
river. If the doorway be narrow, the table on which
the oysterman stood should now be pulled to one
side, and the other table be brought further out to
give more room to those who act upon it.



Before the last verse, there is a necessary inter- should be in perfect readiness to be put in place
mission of a few minutes in order that the scenery the moment the curtain is dropped in the man-
may be changed. For this last scene everything ner previously suggested.




1. There was a gay young oys- ter man lived by the riv er side, His shop it was up-

on the bank, his boat was on the tide, The daugh ter of a fish er man, she
Ritard Accelerando.

was so straight and slim, Lived o ver on the oth er shore, right op po- site to him.

With a Rook che too, che took che took che, Whack! fol lol did die lol I la day


THERE was a gay young oysterman
lived by the river side,
His shop it was upon the bank, his It was the pensive oysterman, who saw the lovely maid,
boat was on the tide, Upon a moonlight evening, a-sitting in the shade;



The daughter of a fisherman, she was so He
straight and slim,
Lived over on the other shore, right opposite I
to him. (Chorus.)

saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to
'm all alone, young oysterman, for daddy 's gone
away." (Chorus.)

*The words of this ballad are printed by kind permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. The music is used by permission of
Oliver Ditson & Co., owners of the copyright.




Then spake the gallant oysterman, and to him-
self said he,
"I guess I '11 leave the boat at home, for fear the
folks might see;

I 've read it in the story-books, that for to kiss
his dear,
Leander swam the Hellespont, and I will swim
this here." (Chorus.)

Then he has leaped into the flood, and swum the
shining stream,
And he has clambered up the bank, all in the
moonlight gleam,

And there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as
soft as rain,


But they have heard her father's steps, and in he
leaps again. (Chorus.)


Out spake the ancient fisherman, Now, what
was that, my daughter?"
" 'T was nothing but a pebble, Pa, I threw into the




" And what is that, pray tell me now, that paddles
off so fast ? "
" 'T is nothing but a porpoise, Pa, that 's been
a-swimming past."

Then spake the ancient fisherman,- Go, bring
me my harpoon !
I '11 jump into my fishing-boat, and fix the fellow
Down fell that lovely innocent, as falls the snow-
white lamb,
Her hair dropped 'round her pallid cheeks like
sea-weed'round a clam. (Chorus.)


Alas, for those two loving ones, she. waked not from her
And he was taken with the cramp, and in the stream was
But Fate has metamorphosed them in pity of their
And now they keep an oyster-shop for mermaids down
below. (Chorus.)

[ON the opposite page we present a few pictures that one will exercise a little patience, care, and ingenuity.
will serve as good suggestions for scenes in shadow-pan- For the trees, the low shrubs, the fence, and the rabbits
tomime. They represent several varieties of shadow-pict- may be cut from stiff brown paper, and the rabbits may
ures from the simple silhouette of the little boy wearing also be made to jump and to disappear by an arrange-
the hat and boots, and carrying the cane of his father, ment of threads and rubber bands similar to those shown
to the more elaborate picture of the hunter and the rab- by Mr. Birney for the management of the moon arid
bits. Although this last scene appears to be a difficult one the fish in the pantomime described in the foregoing
* to represent, it may in reality be prepared quite easily if pages.-ED.]







AH, these are happy dog-days, my children,-
when every breath of coolness is so much pleas-
anter than it possibly could be in winter, and when
people who have nothing else of importance to say
can exclaim, "Ah, how dreadfully close how
exceedingly warm "
These expressions always seem to me especially
melting. For I 'm a sympathetic Jack, and one
can not help feeling sorry for those who persist in
being too warm in summer and too cold in winter.
Now you shall hear about


THE deacon has remarked more than once that
boys and girls never should blow their own trum-
pets. This strikes me as strange. Why they
should borrow other folks' trumpets, when they
have trumpets of their own, I cannot quite under-
stand. But the deacon knows best. On the same
principle, I suppose, somebody has told the grown
folks never to use their own umbrellas if they can
get borrowed ones. Now it's different with mush-
rooms; they hoist their own always, and do it very
neatly and deliberately, I 've noticed. And then,
the flowers. How often you see them blowing their
own trumpets Silently, too; I suppose that is out
of respect to the deacon. There 's the morning-
glory vine, and the petunia, and the trumpet honey-
suckle, the many-colored bind-weed and ever so
many other trumpet-blowers, all good in their way,
and so fresh, winsome, and lovely that they can
not be setting a very bad example to human kind,
I 'm sure, even if they don't care to borrow their
trumpets, as good little boys and girls are expected
to do.
By the way, if you watch a potato-vine in its
first stage of blossoming, you will see that it, too,

blows its own trumpets -pretty, pale, purplish
ones, very open at the big end, not at all like
the long trumpets that some vines flourish in blos-
som-time, but still quite trumpet-like.
And this reminds me of a pleasant paper about
potatoes, that came to this Pulpit long ago.
You shall hear it now.

My DEAR JACK: Though, in his time, Solomon had ceased to
find anything new under the sun, I came across a small anecdote in
Eugene Noel's Life of the Flowers," which may seem new to
your little friends.
It relates to the potato that useful, homely, and estimable
every-day necessity of the American table.
Some of your young readers know, of course, how Parmentier, in
the year 1779, attempted to introduce it in France among his famine-
stricken countrymen. Early in the sixteenth century it had been
brought there from Peru, but popular prejudice was set against it;
it was accused of bringing leprosy, malarial fevers, and what not.
Under Louis XVI. the academies recommended it; discourses were
pronounced in its praise, and newspapers spoke heartily of it. Vain
efforts! The peasants repulsed the academical plant. The king
wore at his button-hole the pretty blossom that resembles the cross
of St. Louis, paraded it at public entertainments, had a dish of the
precious tubers daily served on his table; and finally presents of
them were sent promiscuously to cultivators. The latter invariably
gave the potatoes to their pigs, who, to the official recommendations,
added small, approving grunts of satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Parmentier despaired of introducing the plant which
would save the people from starvation. What he did in this emer-
gency, proved to be a stroke of genius.
By his orders a field of potatoes was planted at Sablons, a sterile
plain, near Paris. They were carefully cultivated until they ripened;
then, at the four corners of the lot, posters were placed, in which,
under heavy penalties, persons were forbidden to touch the crop;
guardians were set to watch over it night and day, with orders to
pursue all trespassers. Marvelous power of forbidden fruit! At
the end of a fortnight, in spite of prohibition and guardians, the
whole crop was carried away, eaten by the peasants, and the potato
was considered delicious.
From that moment there was no difficulty in causing this vegetable
to be cultivated throughout France. Yours truly, M.


PITTSBURGH, PA., Feb. 6, 1888.
old, and have always taken ST. NICHOLAS, and I
read over the old bound volumes of the dear
magazine, running back to the beginning, and yet
they seem as new and fresh as a June morning.
May ST. NICHOLAS endure forever !
Is it too late to answer your hartshorn question ?
It is so named because it was first obtained from
the scrapings of the horn of the hart, the male deer,
and now it is called usually by the name ammonia,
and is made from the bones of all animals, and in
many other ways.
I must add a true story Papa tells me. He says
that in Cambria Co., Pa., there is a large tree, well
known as a landmark and corner-tree of adjacent
tracts of land, designated in the deeds as the tree
" much-scratched-by-the-bears." In the mountain
country of Pennsylvania there are yet many bears,
and they play by climbing after one another on the
trunks of certain trees, and thus certain trees
more easily climbed than others become much-
scratched-by-the-bears. I never wrote you be-
I live near Pittsburgh, Pa., which we used to call
the Smoky City," but now it is called the Natu-
ral Gas City." The smoke is gone. DOLLY.




IT has been a great mystery to many young
persons why the dark, rich-colored wood so much
used for furniture should be called rosewood."
Its deep-tinted, ruddy-streaked surface certainly
does not resemble the rose, so we must seek some
other reason for the name. Here it is: When
the tree is first cut, the fresh wood exhales a
very strong, rose-like fragrance, which soon passes
away, leaving no trace of the peculiar odor. There
are several varieties of rosewood trees; the best,
however, are those found in South America and
the East Indies, and neighboring islands.
E. M. C. told me these facts in a letter, and I
take pleasure, my dears, in repeating them to you.


PERHAPS my hearers will be interested in a big
grape-vine story that my birds have told me. It
is about a superb vine that grows in the grapery of
Hampton Court Palace, England. It is one hun-
dred and eighteen years old, thirty-eight inches
round the stem, and often it bears two thousand
clusters a year.
They have told me, too, of a big rose-tree that
is growing in Germany, by the Hildesheim Cathe-
dral. It is a foot through the stem. It covers one
whole side of the large building. It was protected
from the weather by Bishop Hezilo, who lived one

.......... fz. -- --M

7.. .__ --:__:_

5 la

thousand years ago, and so it must be much older
than that. Tens of thousands of roses bloom on it
every year.
If the rose-bush is twelve inches through, and
the grape-vine thirty-eight inches round, which is
the larger? Why the vine? Because the diame-
ter of a round section measures always about one-
third of its circumference.


Do You wish to hear more about the ways of
pronouncing arbutus ?
Thank you. That is just what I told the dear
Little School-ma'am. So she is going to carry
something on the subject to the Letter-box of
your illustrious magazine, and all of you who wish
to do so can jump over the fence after her and
pursue the matter, so to speak.


WELL, well,-very much as the dear little anem-
ones shake out their pretty petals in the spring-
dainty little white letters have come fluttering to
my pulpit in reply to Fanny-Marion Diana-
and Eleanor's question: "Are there any blue
anemones?" Blue anemones But there is not
time to show them to you now-we must wait for
another day.



Z. I'
r "'*.. ,1," ,I:
-,V ni:

I... .... :




LATE roaming in the park to-day
I met the keeper in my way,
Who in his homely fashion said:
" I s'pose you know Old Dick is dead ?"

" Old Dick? "-a moment's vague surprise,
Then quick tears started to my eyes,
While in my heart a sudden shame
Woke at the half-forgotten name.

That name, alas brought back to me
A lightning-flash of memory.
I saw myself as in a dream
Drift down the swiftly flowing stream;

I felt again the terror wild
That overtakes a drowning child;
And the small thrill of joy once more,
As when he brought me safe to shore.

Poor Dick He was not, even then,
A match for ordinary men,-
Dwarfed and half-witted; yet they say
He surely saved my life that day.

And I ah, useless, vain regrets -
A careless child so soon forgets !
I grew, and thrived, and paid no heed,-
Forgot that Old Dick lived, indeed !

My father's bounty kept him fed,
And found a shelter for his head.
So much I knew; how else he fared,
I never thought, I never cared.

Now he is dead, and the keen dart
Of late remorse is in my heart
For things undone that might have made
The poor soul gladder while he staid.

0 children, eager, happy, strong!
Whose days move like a merry song,
Sweet words to sweeter music set,
I pray you shun my vain regret.

Life brings to some but sad estate;
Death comes to all, or soon or late,
And takes the sunshine from the sun
With thoughts of what we might have done I



IT will surprise the reader to learn that tying up
parcels is so expensive that the busiest storekeepers
are endeavoring to do without it as far as possible.
Have you noticed how of late years, in the great
shopping stores in New York, parcels are no longer
fastened with string, unless they happen to be very
large or unhandy? Whatever you purchase now is
handed to you securely wrapped up, yet without
cord, pins, elastic bands, or apparently anything
but paper to hold it. There is a knack about this
work of the clerks, which it would profit every
young or old person to learn.
One of the members of a firm owning a very
large store said, when he was asked about it, that
the discovery of this new method of wrapping par-
cels brought about a saving of hundreds of dollars
a year in their store alone. It was not the twine
that cost so much, he said, but the time consumed
in adjusting it. Whenever it still has to be used,
FIG. x.

These six pictures, showing a piece of calico
during the process, of being wrapped up in a sheet
of brown paper, reveal precisely how the swift-
fingered girls and boys, and men and women in
the stores now dispense with string.
Imagine yourself behind the bundle, making it
up. All that is necessary, you see, is to use plenty
of wrapping-paper, taking care to have a sheet wide
enough to leave a great deal of margin on the left-
hand end of the goods you are wrapping up. Hav-
ing half rolled up the goods the bundle is like
Figure I. Another roll having been taken, the
left-hand corner is turned over, as in Figure 2.
Another roll, or "twist of the wrist," as you so
often hear people say, and then, as in Figure 3,
you may fold in the entire spare left-hand end
of the wrapping-paper. Immediately, without
any more rolling, catch up the spare paper still
farther, as in Figure 4. Then roll up the parcel

FIG. 2.

FIG. 3.

FIG. 6.

FIG. 4.

on a big or an oddly shaped bundle, it takes as
long to put string around the package as it did
to make up the parcel itself, so that more clerks
are needed where twine is used on all parcels than
where the new method is followed. This is the
reason that twine has come to be regarded as

as much farther than
is shown in Figure 5
as will complete the
rolling, stand the parcel on end, bend down toward
the center and tuck in all around the loose paper
at the right-hand end, and the parcel is complete
and secure.


THE interest shown by our readers, young and old, in the series the great novelist's works the interesting scenes and passages so
of" Child-Sketches from George Eliot," just concluded in this mag- skillfully selected by Miss Magruder,
azine, has been very gratifying to us. Our thanks are due to
Messrs. William Blackwood & Sons, publishers, of Edinburgh, Scot- WE are indebted to The Century for the fanciful pictures of the
land, and also to other representatives of George Eliot's copyrights in sea-serpent printed on pages 724, 725, and 727 of this number. They
England, by whose kind permission we were enabled to quote from originally appeared in The Century for February, 1882.


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 Little School-ma'am wishes us to give place to the follow-
ing communication which, she says, presents very cleverly the other
side of the A rbutus-versus-Arbutus question :


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A friend of the School-ma'am requests in
the April number that we put the accent of arbutus on the first syl-
lable, "where it belongs," for arbutus is wrong." The assertion
seemed hard for our Class to believe, and our inquiry followed the
path indicated by the following questions and answers:
Q. If arbutus is the right pronunciation, is it not possible for
arbutus also to be right if used uniformly in a different sense?
A ns. It can beso. minute is right, but so also is minute when one
means a particle of time.
I. What is the arbutus which Cowper and Mrs. Browning name
in their poetry ? It is the strawberry-tree, a shrub as tall as a man,
or taller, that blooms all the season in English gardens, and bears
large red berries. It also grows wild in Italy, where the old Romans
called it arbutus, or arbootoos as they probably pronounced it.
What makes it right to pronounce the word differently from the
old Roman way ? The example of the English people who cultivate
the tree, and talk and write about it.
II. Do Americans ever speak of the arbutus ?. As it does not grow
in America, they have little occasion to do so except in describing
foreign countries. In the New York Evangelist of May ioth, a
missionary writes of seeing scrub-oaks and arbutus on the mountains
north of Palestine. College students, after translating Horace, some-
times talk of "stretching their limbs under a verdant arbutus."
Do not all our poets who sing about the arbutus mean a different
plant? Certainly; they refer to the sweet, shy, American flower,
which our boys and girls search for before the snow is all gone from
the woods.
Do not the children and people generally pronounce its name
arbutus, in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and wherever it grows ?
Yes; except some persons who lately have begun to change.
III. What advantage is there in calling our American beauty the
arbutus, when that name belongs to a very different plant across the
ocean ? None at all; it makes confusion.
Why is the change proposed ? It is the fault of the dictionaries.
They have been slow to recognize the American flower. Neither
Worcester nor Webster refer to it under the title Arbutus, though
one describes it under "Trailing," and the other under "May-
flower." Dr. Murray's great dictionary makes no allusion to it,
and his reply to an inquirer indicates that he had never heard of it.
He has received some citations now, which will be kept to appear in
an appendix.
IV. Ought arbutus to be dropped from the dictionaries? By no
means: but the new word arbutus should be added with the defini-
tion: "An early wild flower of America, noted as a harbinger of
spring; the EPig-eae refents; called also the trailing arbutus and
When was the arbutus discovered and named? It is said to have
been the first spring flower seen by the Pilgrims at Plymouth, in
1621, after their dreadful winter. A professor of botany says that
there is a picture of it in a book of 1697, that it was spoken of as an
arbutus by a botanist in 1739, and was called trailing-arbutus by
Shecut in 1806.
V. How long has its name been pronounced arbutus? There is a
lack of early authorities. Longfellow used the form arbute in his
"Poem to a Child in 1846, and Worcester gave arbutus in 1860.
Any person who finds proof of an earlier date would confer a favor
by reporting it to FISK P. BREWER,
Grinnell, Iowa.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy ten years old, and live
away down here at the jumping-off place of America. Do you know
this place is six hundred miles nearer Ireland than New York is?
But it takes longer to go from here across the Atlantic than it does
from New York, because we have no fast ocean steamers such as
you have; but perhaps we will have them some day. I am always
glad when the ST. NICHOLAS comes. Your stories are always so
nice. Roy McTavish's story about the coal mine I liked very
much. We have lots of coal mines down here, and four shipping-
piers near where we live. As this is my first letter to the Letter-
box," I hope you will find room enough for it if it is worth printing.
Your little friend, CHARLIE B. ROSS.
P. S.- But not the lost Charlie Ross.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have not anything special to say but
that I like you very much. I think that "Juan and Juanita and
" Sara Crewe" were lovely stories.
This is the second year my kind uncle has sent you to me, and I
like you very much better than any other magazine. I have just
returned from Philadelphia, where I heard little Josef Hofmann, and
enjoyed his entertainment exceedingly. This is the first letter I
have ever written to you. But there, I am getting tiresome.
From your fond reader, MARIE V- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write and tell you how I came
to take you. Last summer Papa and I went to the sea-shore, and
while going from New York to New Haven the newsboy came
through the car with several magazines. I wanted something to
read, so I bought a ST. NICHOLAS. I was so pleased with the
stories that Papa sent for it for me; but he did not know when the
year commenced, and he sent to have it come the first of January.
I was very sorry, because there was a continued story in it, and I
did not have the December number. I am fifteen years old. I live
on a farm about a mile from the village. Papa carries me to school
most of the time, but I have walked a few times this spring. We
have five horses, but there are only three that I can drive; the
others are rather too skittish. My favorite horse to drive died last
winter. I felt very bad; she was full of life, but gentle.
I like very much to read the letters, especially those from abroad.
I was very much interested in the one from Agnes Dale, about Bass
Rock, and wish she would write another, and give a description of
other things of interest in Scotland.
I remain your friend and reader, WINIFRED J-.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking you for three years,
and like your stories very much. I go to California almost every
I have a bicycle, and I go riding every day. I have a friend across
the street from me, and I have a great deal of fun with him. I get
a glass of soda-water every day.
My father lives away from here; he lives in California. I must
close. Your loving reader, LLOYD K. C Jr.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We were sitting quietly, as usual, in
school, on the 9th of March, when the sound of bells aroused our
attention. As we knew the emperor was very ill, we imagined.


what proved to be the truth, that the old Kaiser had passed away.
As soon as the day of the funeral was known, we made ir;-.-
ments to go to Berlin. We left Dresden on the following .
day; the day was rather cloudy, but before twelve the sky had
cleared, and the sun was shining. After taking our dinner we
started out. The aspect of the city was very mournful. The flags
were all at half-mast, and the houses draped with black. It seemed
very odd that the shops were open, but they were made as dismal as
possible; for instance, in a glove-shop, the display of gloves was all
black, and so in all the shops. In Dresden, at a confectioner's
shop, they showed their grief and loyalty by having nothing but
chocolate in the window !
The same afternoon we tried to go into the Dom, but the crowd
was much too large, so we waited until the next day. Accordingly,
in the morning we started out- only to find all the streets leading
to the Dom guarded, and no one, except those provided with per-
mits, allowed to pass. After waiting quite a long time with a
crowd on one of these streets, a guard said that we could go through.
So we went to the Schloss Platz, where we saw another row of
guards, and behind them a large crowd. We waited there three
hours; the cold and wind were intense. So we were just going home
when we met an officer whom we knew, and he went with us past
four lines of guards, and left us at the end of a line of people, going
two by two, and in half-an-hour we reached the Dom.
A kind of temporary bridge had been made in the church, over
which -1.. ,l 1 i.. .ed to take a last view of the Kaiser, whom but
a few ...-.. i..I .- I had seen standing at the window of his
palace, Unter den Linden."
He was lying in state, surrounded by white flowers, around which
burned tall tapers. In front, and behind him, and on both sides
officers were standing in most magnificent uniforms. The Kaiser
himself had on a very plain uniform, and only a few decorations.
The organ was playing very softly, and the whole scene was a very
impressive one, and one that I shall never forget.
The next day we saw the funeral procession pass "Unter den
Linden" ; but I will not describe it, for fear of making this letter too
long to be printed.
Your constant reader, S. C. C-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write you a letter and send you
some puzzles I have done. This is the first winter I have been in
Washington, and I have found hae nit most interesting. I have been to
Mount Vernon, which is beautiful. The day I went, it was as warm
as summer, and the place looked beautiful, especially the lawn
near the house. I have been also to the White House, which is
most interesting. I have taken you for seven years, and my father
his bought me most of the back volumes. Hoping that my letter is
not too long, I remain, your constant and faithful reader,
C. D. L- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the ST. NICHOLAS for May, 1888, I
read the story entitled GinsengHunting," which reminded me of
a similar experience of my own.
It happened in this manner. I had been tramping all one after-
noon through the woods, on and near the .-, v .... i.:an reser-
vation, which is in the western part of '*i- -,.: I had
my gun with me, but the game which I had intended to bring home
was still alive in the woods. However, notwithstanding this, my
poor luck, I had spent a pleasant afternoon, and had a hearty appe-
tite, which is better than all the rabbits, partridges, and squirrels in
the woods.
My home was about a quarter of a mile away, and I was passing
through a moist piece of woodland, thinking of anything but ginseng,
when I happened to cast my gaze on the around, and there, almost
inder my feet, wasapatch of the root. I knew it the moment 1 saw
it, for familiarity with the woods makes one single out a rare or use-
ful plant from worthless ones as quickly as one would notice a piece
of money in a heap of stones.
This patch was about as large a one as I have ever seen, more
than I could have carried in my pockets, so I told myself the best
thing to do would be to go home, get a basket and a trowel, and
return and dig it up.
At home I found supper in preparation, so I decided to return and
dig it then. Off I started at leisurely walk, with my basket on my
arm. On the way I stopped to throw sticks at a chipmunk that sat
on a log. This sport I continued for several minutes, just missing
the little creature at each throw, but not once hitting him. There
he sat as still as if he were dead, not seeming in the least to mind the
missiles that passed so near him ; but when a stick, considerably
larger than any of the others fell in a pile of leaves near him, he
seemed very much frightened, and jumping off his perch with a
chatter and a whisk of his tail, scampered away.
Having crossed a pasture where our cows were grazing, I came to
the woods in which grew the coveted ginseng, which would bring
!me quite a sum of spending-money at the village store. You may
imagine my surprise and disappointment when I tell you that 1 saw,
digging eagerly at the roots, an old Indian woman. She had already

put nearly all of them into a dirty cloth bag at her side. I stopped a
little way off to watch her, and in a few moments saw the last piece
go into the bag. She then rose to her feet, pinned on thie shawl \ which
had fallen back from her head, and started for home. I did the
sam. i,1 ..i disgusted with myself for letting a "sqiuawv" get
the ...... I knew she had seen me and guessed imy ciiand,
and was, no doubt, at this moment, lI,,-hii; n to herself over \lhat
she considered a good joke; though, ... i... stoical face, no oi:
would have known she was aware of my presence. But after think-
ing the matter over, I came to the conclusion that it was better that
she should have the root than myself; for I never knew what it was
to lack plenty of warm clothes and enough to eat, wlhercas the
Indians become very poor during the winter; and, although they
are a shiftless, lazy race, I can not help pitying them.
The Indians are acknowledged to be the best root and heib
hunters in this, if not in all countries,- a belief which I have heartily
endorsed ever since the experience niih oiy ginseng-patch.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I don't think I have ever seen in your
magazine a letter from this part of the world, so I hope you will
print this, as I have never written before.
I have taken you for about eighteen months, and find you very
interesting. I like your stories immensely, especially Sara
Crewe"; and although T did not take you when Little Lord
Fauntleroy came out, I have read it.
We are just opposite Kew Gardens, and we go for very nice walks
in them, although in the winter-time we find them very dreary.
I am at school here with my three sisters, and we are now having
holidays; they are passing very pleasantly, but rather too quickly.
We were all very much amused at the letter of Angus E. Orr in
"Jack-in-the-Pulpit," and now I can read it and its answerwith
the right emphasis.
I will now end, hoping my letter will not be too long to print.
Your devoted reader, MAY B- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little girl nearly eleven years old.
I have never seen a letter from Nice in your columns before, so I
thought I would write. I take two magazines, but like yours the
best, and I wish it came every week instead of every month. I am
an American child, staying in Nice for the climate. I was here last
year during the earthquake. I am a great reader, and have a great
many books. I think Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett's stories are
perfectly lovely, which I know is very mild praise. I have one
little sister, a dear little thing called Louise; but, unhappily, there
is a great difference in our ages. We are shortly going to Paris,
thence to Geneva, and we intend to spend the summer at Thun.
I am afraid my letter is getting too long, so I will say good-bye.
From your loving friend and reader, CAROLINE S. D-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My brother is a subscriber to your delight-
ful magazine. I am very much interested in "Drill" and "Two
Little Confederates." I think ST. NICHOLAS is the best magazine
that was ever published for young folks. We all read it, fiom Papa
and Mamma to baby George, and send it to lots of cousins, besides.
I have a pet cat, and its name is Lux. I think Sara Crewe is a
splendid story. We live in the mountains of Virginia. It is quite
cold here in winter, but delightful in the summer-time.
Your liitTe friend, ANNA K. B-- .

WE thank the young friends, whose names here follow, for pleasant
letters received from them:
Hortie O'Meara, Grace Henry, Ross Hasbrouck, .
Brooke, Jack Wilson, Minna Cromwell, Elfie S., j.. ..
Florence King B., Alice Comly, Annie Dawson, Jennie Hendley.
Julius J. Ennemoser, Lyman Hodge, Lottie G1. r.t .... Mabel
S. Read, Thee. W., Matilda Weber. Alice C., t I I i1. Millkud
Osborn, Wilson Blue, Edith W. G., Eleanor A. Merriam, 'Mattie
Graves, Susie T., Monica D.,'Amy H. Nye, Will W. Hines. Annie
U. and Bessie A., Maud M. Welsh, MIary D. D., Eduard A. Bur-
dick, Lena N. Barber, Blanche H., Florence Osborne, Eleanor F.
Herbert, Elsa Behr, Lillian Bay, Ethel and Winifred, K. C. K.,
Beatrice Kendall, David Cardwell, Helen Bruce Story, Edward
Blaine, Bessie Tousey and Elsie Woodward, P. K. T., May F.
Wolf, Marguerite, Rosie Vesey, Katharine Glass, L. M. Oates,
Florence Petrie, Ethel H., Carrie H., Anna Horneck, Ida G.
Stewart and Sarah F. Garratt, Willie L., Edna G. Fletcher, Lizzie
C., Jennie, Hattie, and Bessie Carter, Laurie Horton, Madge Fur-
man, Grace E. M., Alexander R. Martin, Nina Blanche Moses, Eda
H. Lord, Ann Elizabeth Jenkins, and George P. Webster.


THE number of answers received to any "King's Move Puzzle" printed in ST. NICHOLAS is always a surprise to the Editor. It must
be even more astonishing to the maker of the puzzle. When a similar one was published in Sr. NICHOLAS some months ago, the maker
thought that but forty-five poets' names were concealed; yet the quick eyes of our puzzlers discovered over two hundred.
In the "King's Move" printed in May, the maker thought that the names of only thirty-seven novelists were to be found, but
those names were of very well-known writers, to whom the title of "novelist" might be given "past cavil and past question." They
were as follows: Eliot, Ebers, Defoe, Dumas, Dickens, Bulwer, Burney, Bremer, Burnett, Bront6, Austen, Alcott, Hawthorne, Hugo,
Harte, Hunt, Sand, Hardy, Scott, Sue, Thackeray, Tolstoi, Roe, Stockton, Stowe, Reade, Lever, Marlitt, Mulock, James, Irving,
Verne, Howells, Cable, Ingelow, Black, and Trollope.
Many sending answers counted Nathaniel and Julian Hawthorne as two, and the three Bront6 sisters, as three; whereas a name can
,count as but one, no matter how many writers may bear it.
We reprint a portion of the note which accompanied the longest list received, and think no one will dispute the sender's right to have
her name put at the head of the roll.
'"I think pseudonyms and initials legitimate, where the author's true name is not used as a signature. Many authors never write
under their own names, and are not known by them. I must have looked over some twenty-five thousand names, in English
catalogues alone." The names sent included all used by the maker of the puzzle, and very many others, necessarily of lesser note. The
list contained the names of three hundred writers, and the initials of thirty-five more.


Maud E. Palmer, 335- Elizabeth Mary Warren-Fay, 207-J. Ross Hardy, 156- Emily Coit, 142- Paul, Alice, and Dick, 127-
Jared W. Young, 116-Laurence Arnold Tanzer, no-Grace Gallaher, io9-Bessie B. Rodman, o8--Henrietta Roebbelen, ic8-
Mrs. H. W. Ruggles, ro6 Edith L. Lowe, o16 Grace Kupfer, 102 Agnes Callender, 102 Nellie L. Howes, 1oo.


FROM 90 TO 1oo.-A. S. Lovejoy, L. Durlacher, E. Matteson, H. and L. Schoenthal, Anna Paul, "Dentist."
FROM 80 TO go.- Two Little Sisters," F. M. C., G. P. Erwin, A. Fiske and Co., B. A. Auerbach, Nonbe, F. E. L. A. H.
FROM 70 TO 80.--M. C. Adams, P. Burnham, M. and N. Smyth, B. De F. Brush, J. Phinney, Mrs. R. J. Hastings, We Three,
M. Reed, W. H. Foster, E. and M. McElroy, J. and D. White, M. Worsfold, C. Toothe.
FROM 60 TO 70.-L. M. Turck, Miss Flint, H. A. Homer, The Twins," A. I. O., L. Wilson, L. A. Nicholson, Rosaline, C. G. H.
and G. A., E. H. Denby, W. Fenn, A. M. Connell, R. W. Towle, M. H. G., N. Protzman, R. F., A. H. R. and M. G. R., T. P. Wood-
ward, A. S. Read, P. Bradford, G. W. Stoughton and H. I. Whiton, M. A. G., The Cottage, Willoughby, L. F. A. Melliss, K. M. Fry.
FROM 50 TO 60.- M. E. Thornton and W. Irving, B. H. Mercur, E. T. Lewis, B. F. and B. D., E. H. Magee, R. Hathaway, A. A.
Squires, Mohawk Valley," B. and C. A. Derby, H. F. Shrimpton, Ruth and Rob, H. E. Hoyt, "Flo. Ridians," E. G. Corse, D. L.
Crane, Ted, S. B. Otis, Hypatia," Fred and Blanche, F. Renton, L. I. Adams, P. Reese, Carlotta, H. O. D. L., S. Rhoades, Lottie
and Dottie, E. G. Fletcher, B. McClelland, E. R. Pemnan, L. R. Little, C. C. James, G. C. Robinson, A. C. Hanson, C. W. MacHenry,
M. E. Smith, NM. E. Ford, E. Phelps, S. Harris, C. H. Stewart, Baby Elephant, F. B. Graves, J. T. Hewes, R. R., Alice B. L., E. Wood-
ward, M. L. Cooper, Bertha, G. E. Follette, B. C. Beck, E. C. Higgins, F. Candee, Mabel C., B. Ramsdell, J. Christian, The Three B's,
M. Oliver, F. S. G. and Co., C. and H. Condit, F. A. Cormack, E. E. Beach, W. O. Kimball, Bertha K., M. Burlingham, E. C. Kupp,
L. Wainwright, Anglo-Saxon, M. S. Searls, Monogram, Monell, B. Kirkland, G. P. Lowell, John Bull," A. Owen, Mal Pontes,
Audry Ivens.
FROM 40 TO 50.-L. S. Patterson, W. M. Vibbert, L. D. Bloodgood, L. M. Simpson, E. Smith, M. A. Walker, H. Spencer, S. F.
Mackintosh, S. I. Hayes, M. McKibbin, A. R., S. and B. Rhodes, D. Stevens, E. D. Wright, D. V. Meade, S. C. and C. M., G. O'Brien
and G. Johnson, C. E. Trumpler, M. C. Bostwick, H. Bull, G. Olcott, Frances, Mamma and Marion, Latin School Cadet, L. B. R. Pierce,
E. M., "Lehte," E. Austin, Mabel and Amy, W. G. Du Bose, A. Z. Reed and Co., E. Watkins, H. Bishop, Ellie and Susie, L. E. Haskell,
K. Wolfe, H. St. John, Tom, Harry, and Hattie, M. L. Powell, M. and A. Bartlett, E. A. Hobbs, G. C. F., V. M. Holden, L. Cunning-
ham, L. Allan, M. J. S., H. T. Bowers, H. C. McCleary, Delores, B. Smith, and M. Stearns, B. Van Doren, M. and E. King, B. Graham
and M. Bush, L. Bolton, L. C. Byrd, R. Webster, H. S. Paine, E. and C. Delafield, M. G. Howard, E. A. Whiston, A. A. Crosby, E. A.
Armer, H. T. Guild, H. Osthaus, The Lam, E. Williams, E. Ryerson, B. Frohman, Anna N., Lynne, L. R. W., Four Beans, L. D. Cree,
J. E. Holmes, Mac, Flora and Daisy, G. M. Church, L. F. W. R. Kelly, Imp."
FROM 30 TO 40.-M. Emright, J. Haries, S. B. and Co., W. Bush. Jr., F. N. Kollock, Jr., E. S. Young, B. Shattuck, R. O. Brown,
C. U. Wardell, M. Sloan, Mitsie and Katum, B. B. Metheany, H. M. S., E. Blaine, Nellie and Reggie, M. Watt, A. M. C., 7-. 1 79,
K. and C. Stebbins, V. R. Clements, O. B. Engelmann, H. H. Hadsall, M. F. Greenman, J. S. Royer, A.-Burr, F. B. P., i B.
Newkirk, "Three K's," E. Lootz, J. C. Cole, Jr., M. Corbett, M. W. Holt, K. Lewis, J. C. Sea, Ethel H. W., E. A. Blount, Infantry,"
M. L. and A. M. B., C. S. Barkelew, A. M. Dake, V. Smith, A. Maclean, Lida W., H. M. Fitch, L. Jessup, E. Goodnough, W. R.
Blake, Min and Est, A. W. Hallock, G. A. R., H. R. Cook, A. Parker, L. E. Horton, M. E. and N. L Jones, Garden Cat, E. L. Brown,
J. H. Sayres, A. H. Ford, N. Austin, L. G. Bass, C. C. Lowry, L. J. and A. D., F. Newman, P. S. Hall, J. A. Lacy, M. Holden, Pop
and Ted, W. A. Russell, Jr., M. McA., Yankee Girl, F. L. Smith, M. Bond, M. Moulton, W. B. Whittemore, H. S. Hadden, K. Moore,
B. Dorris, G. V. Russell, W. A. Greene, B. Casey, M. Burdick, E. M. Hazelton, J. P. Bartlett, M. M. Barstow, E. H. Janes, C. O.
Lipoert, G. D. Leach, Mary, Essie, May and Bessie, H. B. Owen, M. G. B. Palmer, M. Oilers, M. M. Bain, F. T. Walker, Beth, Amo,
J. Kershaw.
LESS THAN 30.-A. Calerdine, G. J. and S. H., "A Riponite," Bessie M. L., A. M. Tuttle, S. I. Myers, B. Wood, Lola and Lora,
H. H. Miller, F. H. Knauff, H. Haring, M. T. Jones, R. B. Richardson, A. C. Bowles. Anna, M. L. Douglass, Lill, S. M. Moore, A.
O. Wright, Jr., Estelle, E. R. and M. W. R., C. Campman, Jo and Mim, D. M. V. A., J. H. Davis, E. M. Tyer, Lizzie C., E. Pardee,
W. M. Wackwitz, F. C. Hoyt, N. E. Griswold, Ethel E., C. G. Dickson, Essie L., Willie and Marian, C. Walz, E. H. Bamber, L. D.
Drisler, K. Parker, F. Merritt, Blanche E., M. Blair, J. Browne, J. W. Mead, Angie, G. L. Farley, C. V. B. Woodward, H. and E.
Westwood, W. Waughop, May and Lucy, L. M. Albertson, Emma P.. G. S. Strong, R. M. Heames, S. E. Flechtner, R. J. Austin, M.
L. Morris, K. Slenou, J. B. Morris, C. D. W. Halsey, G. F. Gilmore, W. Keith, K. R. Howard, A. Hartich and E. Richmond, R. Neely,
F. Besley, I. M. Howse, Francis W. Islip.

ST. NICHOLAS will pay ten dollars for the best King's Move Puzzle, received before September Ist. As the magazine has already
printed puzzles of this kind based on the names of poets and novelists, these two classes are, of course, excluded. But the names of artists,
musicians, generals, battles, cities or rivers may be used,-almost any set of names, in fact. And to the maker of the set contained in not more
than one hundred squares, and proving, in view of the names contained, to be best adapted for use in ST. NICHOLAS, will be sent ten dollars.
Who will win it, when all are at liberty to compete?



EASY ZIGZAG. Battle of Bull Run. Cross-words: i. Bar. 2. fAn.
3. beT. 4. aTe. 5. Lag. 6. dEn. 7. leO. oFt. 9. Beg.
o1. pUt. IIeL. eL. 2 L. eLk. 3. Rug. 14. hUm. I5. fiN.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. First in war, first in peace, and first in
the hearts of his countrymen." From Lee's Eulogy on Washington.
CHARADE. Masquerader.
PI. First, April, she with mellow showers,
Opens the way for early flowers;
Then after her comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array;
Next enters June, and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before;
Then, lastly, July comes, and she
More wealth brings in than all those three.
DEFECTIVE PROVERB. That load becomes light that is cheerfully
DIAGONALS. From x to 2. United; from 3 to 4, States. Cross-
words: i. UlsterS. 2. iNsisTs. 3. grimAce. 4. monTana. 5. re-
ElEct. 6. iSlanDs.

FOURTH OF JULY PUZZLE. "We hold these truths to be self-
evident-- that all men are created equal."
OCTAGON. I. Old. 2. Spars. 3. Operate. 4. Larmier. 5. Drainer.
6. Steed. 7. Err.
CRowN PUZZLE. i. Ah. 2. Dialogue. 3. Grated window. 4. Con-
gregate. 5. Senility. 6. Cycles. 7. (T)oothsome. Centrals. Al-
drich and Howells.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Carlo Dolce. Cross-words: I. laCks.
2. trAck. 3. maRry. 4. joLly. 5. brOwn. 6. ArDen. 7. crOss.
8. RaLph. 9. moCks ro. flEet.
4. End. 5. D. II. D. 2. Pod. 3. Dover. 4. Den. 5. R.
IIl. T. D. 2. Did. 3. Diver. 4. Den. 5. R. IV. D. 2. Red.
3. Debar. 4. Dah. 5. R. V. i. R. 2. Now. 3. Rowed. 4. Wed.
5. D.
DOUBLE AcRosTIc. Primals, John Hancoclk- .1, Samuel
Adams. Cross-words: i. JameS. 2. OcanA. 3. ]-'i ... I 4. Nas-
saU. 5. HowE. 6. AdmiraL. 7 North CarolinA. 8. Cumber-
lanD. 9. OsceolA. zo. ChathaM. ii. KansaS.

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 MAY NUMBER were received, before May 15th, from Paul Reese- Louise !inhrm ^.-1l5m
- A. H. and R.- K. G. S.- Nellie and Reggie- Nellie L. Howes Ruth and Rob Grace Olcott Latin School Cader ...11 ..il.t
-" Lehte "- Francis W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May i5th, from .. :.*.-. 2-M. H. Junmoe, i--W.
A. J., i -H. C. Cushing, I--W. L. Diller, i-Mount V. S., i-C. D. lodge, i-Helen F L ;. BenedictI i-L. D. Blood-
good, 2- "Jockey," I G. Burnett, Nellie C. S., G. J. and S. H., 2--No name, 2--Mary B., I- E. A. Bessey, i-C.
Goodman, 2-P. J. C., i-G. R. Allen, i-H. I., 6-L. H. Barber, I -Alice H. A., i-E. Smith, 2-" Father G. and Mother G.,"
5 Bessie M. L., 5 F. S. Moorhouse, i A. F. Shepherd, 2 Lola and Lora, 2 H. and E. Westwood, i T. N. Kollock, Jr., 2 -
M. V. Spencer, i H. H. Miller, 2 F. H. Knauff, 3- Effie K. Talboys, 7- B. F. and B. D., i Little Sisters, 2- S. I. Hayes, I
-"The Louises," 2-" Patty Pan," 4- Midget, i-- S. M. H., H. O'Meara, Pete and Janny, 4- E. H. Magee, 2- C.
Beardman, i -" Mitsie and Katum," 2- S. and B. Rhodes, 3- A. C. Bowles, 2- Nell 0., i- E. M. Ferguson, A. A. Squires, 6 -
Lill, 3 -A. M. C., 4- "May and 79," 9--A. S. Mulligan, 2 -Clarkson and Kelly, 4 -" Sally Lunn," 5- Lillian A. Thorpe, 9-
Alice E. S., I--M. F Greenman, 4-Edna Tryon, 7- C. D. C., I -A. Burr, 2 B. Larkin, 2- F. B. P., 2 -" Flo. Ridians," 6-
Estelle, 3--" Three K's," 2 E. Lootz, 4- E. R. and M. W. R., i Katie and Harry, -- Florence, 2- M. Corbett, 4- Mamma
and Marion, 6-Jo and Mim, 2--" Mistletoe," 2-Sebah, 3--E. Woodward, 2-"Pussy Willow and D. D.," 8--D. M. V. A., 5
-J. H. Davis, 2 L. B. R. Pierce, I--H. R. G., I--L. C. Burpee, I Miss Flint," 7--Carlotta, 3- Alpha Zate," 6- L. B. H.
Crawford, i Pop and I, 4 -" Infantry," 7 -" Mother Goose and S. S." 3- M. L. and A. M. B., 2- Coralie and Florence, I -Donna
D., 3 -A. C. Hartich, i Est and Min, i Tom, Harry and Hattie, 2 L. Durlacher, 2 C. G. H. and G. A., 3- E. Coit, 3 L. G.
Bass, I--C. V. B. Woodward, 2- L. Jackson, H. and L. Schoenthal, i E. D. and M. B. W., 3-"The Cottage," 2- E. C.
Kupp, i W. Keith, i M. Eilers, 2.

i. TRANSPOSE consumes, and make a chair. 2. Transpose parts
of the hand, and make an air-breathing mollusk. 3. Transpose
kitchen utensils, and make a blot. 4. Transpose methods, and
make to rule. 5. Transpose an article of furniture, and make the
cry of an animal. 6. Transpose an animal, and make a biped. 7.
Transpose a fruit, and make to gather. 8. Transpose a flower, and
make painful. 9. Transpose crippled, and make a repast. oo.
Transpose existence, and make a row. si. Transpose to inhume,
and mike a precious stone. 12. Transpose to crush, and make a
counterfeit. AMY S. AND M. N., JR.

CIERJOE ey slidefjirecoe dna vewa hwit glod
Hewn Agustu .d .. :1. ,;'r: lingfin;
01! eth shudcr. 1 I I..1.-.-..-. dollar:
Eth snubturn serapre cujdon slay rea ginsgin.

I. THE two central rows of letters, reading downward, spell the
names of two famous men; one an American admiral who died on
August t4th, and the other a Swedish author who died on August 4th.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): x. The writer of a preface. 2.
Retracted. 3. Protecting. 4. Religiously. 5. Rendered harm-
less. 6. A vocalist. 7. An insinuation. 8. Associates.
II. The two central rows of letters, reading downward, spell the
names of two famous men; one an astronomer who died on August
25th, and the other a general who was born on August i5th.
Cross-words (of equal length): i. Temerity. 2. Disclosed to
view. 3. Swindlers. 4. To disorganize. 5. To announce. 6.
Garnered. 7. Halos of light. 8. Vileness. F. S. F.


EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters.
When these are rightly guessed, and placed one below the other,
the zigzags (beginning at the upper left-hand corner) will spell the
name of the author (born on August 7th, 1795) of the following lines.
Who is the author, and from what poem are the lines taken ?

'T is the middle watch of a summer's night-
The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright.

CROSS-WORDS: i. To crowd. 2. A dandy. 3. An affirmation.
4. To ask. 5. A foot. 6. An exclamation. 7. Peltry. 8. A stout
horse. 9. Uproar. o1. A little demon. ii. A spring of mineral
water. 12. Purpose in view. 13. A bird. 14. A boy's name.
x5. Date. x6. To enlarge. 17. A very large bird. c. B.

I 2 3

4 5 6

7 8 9

FROM I to 3. to recede; from 4 to 6, to strike dumb with amaze-
ment; from 7 to 9, severs ; from 1 to 7, recites; from 2 to 8, remote;
from 3 to 9, offers; from i to 9, repeals; from 3 to 7, royal seats.
F. s. F.



CROSS-WORDS (of equal length) : I. Ingenuous. 2. To long for.
3. A large ship, either for merchandise or war. 4. A feminine name.
5. Any orchidaceous plant. 6. Water nymphs.
The first row of letters reading downward, will spell the ferry-
man of the Styx; the second row, the goddess of the morning; and
the last row, nymphs who preside over woods.
I . 2

5 6

3 4

7 8

FROM i to 2, a fish celebrated for its surprising changes of color
when dying; from 2 to 4, the goddess of vengeance; from i to 3,
anger; from 3 to 4, to puzzle ; from 5 to 6, elevated positions; from
6 to 8, excess beyond what is wanted; from 5 to 7, a kind of linen,
named after the country in which it was first manufactured; from 7
to 8, unsettled; from 5 to i, solid; from 6 to 2, nine inches; from 8
to 4, utters; from 7 to 3, an ecclesiastical dignitary.

I. i. A small nail. 2. Any plain surface. 3. One of an ancient
race of people. 4. A.girl's name. If. i. A preparation of barley.
2. The agave. 3. Solitary. 4. To be stocked to overflowing.
III. 1. A curtain. 2. Comfort. 3. An island. 4. A vegetable.

x. I 'M often on your house-top;
And often in your hand;
Sometimes I 'm finished roughly quite,
Sometimes I wear a band.

2. I must be very little,-
You can't be less, you see.
My size is by comparison;
There's no fixed rule for me.

3. Look in your books of stories,
And surely me you 'II find:
I'm short and long, and grave and gay,
Of every varied kind.

4. Against all fresh or novel things
I flatly set my face;
It's just as well, for ne'er can I,
At my age, take their place.

5. I hope you 'll never do me;
But I have not much fear.
I 'm sure you all dislike my name,
So I will disappear.

EXAMPLE: Insert a letter in small rodents, and make to chop fine.
Answer, Mi-ce, mince.
I. 1. Insert a letter-in repented, and make governed. 2. Insert
a letter in commotion, and make a step. 3. Insert a letter in false-
hoods, and make certain fruits. 4. Insert a letter in fastenings, and
make the name of a famous London paper. 5. Insert a letter in
revolve, and make a country in Europe. 6. Insert a letter in atti-
tude, and make an armed power. 7. Insert a letter in a repast, and
make a reward of merit. 8. Insert a letter in a grimace, and make a
minute particle. 9. Insert a letter in an opening, and make an
English writer on games.
The inserted letters spell a name given to the first of August.
II. 1. Insert a letter in a dissipated person, and make a knave.
2. Insert a letter in a pool, and make an inclosure for cattle. 3.
Insert a letter in a name by which a certain animal is called by
negroes of the South, and make a punctuation point. 4. Insert a
letter in light conversation, and make to defraud. 5. Insert a letter
in to tarry, and make to lean. 6. Insert a letter in certain small

animals, and make floats. 7. Insert a letter in a rabble, and make
heeded. 8. Insert a letter in a flower, and make to awaken. 9. In-
sert a letter in a small Spanish coin, and make royal. To. Insert a
letter in an insect, and make part of a river. II. Insert a letter in a
measure of distance, and make a fine rain. 12. Insert a letter in
chief, and make relating to the morning.
The inserted letters spell another name for the first of August.


I. 1. In midland. 2. A measure of liquids among the Dutch.
3. Defensive arms for the body. 4. Satire. 5. The largest deer
of America. 6. A deer. 7. In midland.
II. i. In midland. 2. To infold. 3. Boundary. 4. A part of a
lathe. 5. A Latin phrase meaning "by itself considered." 6. To
descry. 7. In midland.
III. I. In midland. 2. An insect. 3. The order of birds to
which the duck belongs. 4. In the place of. 5. Very small. 6. A
beam. 7. In midland. c. B. D.


EVERY word that is represented by figures is a noun, and all are
pictured in the accompanying illustration.
Though your ambition soar like a 31-6-1-40, unless you climb the
50-23-34-5, or take the 39-29-5-44, or man the 20-17-36-24-42-34,
or wield the 16-47-30-1a-41, or seize the 11-3-33, or guide the
14-34-25-12-45-8, or work the 14-27-19-37-24, or handle the 22-51-
4-5-21, or try the 27-35-9-15-13-49, or string he 34-32-32-43, or
strike the 31-26-ro, or ply the 28-46-15-5, or win the honorof a 3-
18-48-7-2-38, you will prove the truth of the whole quotation, which
is from Shakespeare. j. .

i. BEHEAD to switch off, and leave to follow. 2. Behead to hurt,
and leave an inlet of water from the sea. 3. Behead to expunge,
and leave to demolish. 4. Behead a roof-timber, and leave sub-
sequent. 5. Behead a parent, and leave opposite. 6. Behead to be
in great plenty, and leave to limit. 7. Behead very limited, and
leave an old-fashioned weapon.
The beheaded letters spell the name of'a famous American general
who was born in Ohio. E. H, F.



i ~~ %.~

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