Front Cover
 The little Christmas spy
 The curious history of a messa...
 The bells of Ste. Anne
 The silver heart; or, Faithful...
 La musique
 Ten weeks in Japan
 Imitation Japanese
 Biceps Grimlund's Christmas...
 Charlotte Bronte
 La grande francois
 Little Saint Elizabeth
 The routine of the republic
 A 16th century Christmas
 Making cake (words and music)
 Our Polly
 Novel Christmas presents
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00207
 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: VID00207
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 little Christmas spy
        Page 82
        Page 83
    The curious history of a message
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    The bells of Ste. Anne
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    The silver heart; or, Faithful Leo
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    La musique
        Page 104
        Page 105
    Ten weeks in Japan
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
    Imitation Japanese
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Biceps Grimlund's Christmas vacation
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    Charlotte Bronte
        Page 131
    La grande francois
        Page 132
    Little Saint Elizabeth
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    The routine of the republic
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
    A 16th century Christmas
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
    Making cake (words and music)
        Page 150
    Our Polly
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
    Novel Christmas presents
        Page 154
        Page 155
    The letter-box
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    The riddle-box
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


mi 0116,1.0.161
'00 1

1/' v


~. ~'il~l#ll.'li ;Iri




.i3.ii i. .




Copyright, i888, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



OUR Madge, in growing tall and wise,
Has reached that most befogged of tracts,
The Land of Half-Belief, that lies
Between the Fairies and the Facts.

Her little heart's a crowded nest
Of faiths and fancies, dear and shy;
The dearer, since she somehow guessed
They'd flutter from her by and by.

Her doubts are pains, yet pleasures, too,
With which her timid thoughts will play;
How sad the chill, It may n't be true"--
How sweet the thrill, But, then, it may "

On Christmas Eve she long had lain
With sleepless eyes, like owlet's bright;
She rose, and rubbed the frosted pane,
And stared into the starry night.

She saw the moon laugh round and clear
From smoky wreaths of cloud, and throw,
In shapes like branching horns of deer,
The sharp tree-shadows on the snow.

Oh, would he come, the jolly Saint
Whom everybody talked about?
" It may be so--and yet, it may n't;
If I should watch, I might find out "

She turned ; her pulses wildly beat;
She 'd like to spy but should she dare ?
Yes Pat, pat, pat, with stealthy feet
She passed down the winding stair.

The great hearth glowed; the grave old cat,
With fixed, expanded, emerald eyes,
Erect, before the chimney sat;
He seemed to wear a waiting guise.

The andirons shone ; the clock ticked on;
Each moment made her more afraid.
" Oh, if he comes, I 'll wish I'd gone -
But if I go, I '11 wish I 'd staid !

" Perhaps he is n't real at all-
But-- if he is perhaps he '11 mind! "
A sudden soot-flake chanced to fall -
She fled, and never looked behind !

She throbbed with fright, she flushed with shame,
Her pillowed head she closely hid;
She said, I don't believe he came "
She sighed, Oh, dear -suppose he did "


No. 2.

.' C I,,,.

,, ri O iiL rLis,,
deep, but it was a sloppy, sleety, slippery Decem-
ber in which one could expect neither good ice nor
good sleighing.
The probabilities of an unseasonable Christmas
were very much discussed by the members of a
family named Kinton, who lived in a country
house about thirty miles from New York. Mrs.
Kinton was a widow, and her family was made up
of herself and three daughters, whose ages ranged
from seventeen to six. Her brother, Mr. Rodney
Carr, was very often with them, but his presence
was not at all to be depended upon.
The two older girls, Elinor and Maud, were
generally ready to enjoy Christmas in any weather
and in any place; but this year the prospect of a
Christmas at home appeared extremely distasteful
to them on account of a certain other prospect that
had been held out to them by their uncle Rodney.
This uncle was a generous man, and always glad
to promote the pleasure of his nieces; and early
in this winter he had made them a half-prom-
ise of something which Mrs. Kinton thought he
should have said nothing about until he had
felt himself able to make a whole promise. He
had gone to California upon business; and, before
starting, had told Elinor and Maud that if a certain
enterprise proved successful, he would make them
a Christmas present of a trip to the Bermudas.
This unusual gift had been suggested to him by
the fact that the most intimate friends of Elinor
and Maud, the two Sanderson girls, who spent
their winters in New York, were going with their
mother to the Bermudas for their Christmas holi-
days; and Mrs. Sanderson had told him that she
would be very glad if his nieces could go with them.

B Fr. -. : R. _er',: _,,N. .

rr .. 1: *I i-I. : l -l: .. ~Ii. .-; and he,
b ,ilJ L._ I,'.. ."1 ,r ,:ii ti ..i -id nearer.s- two
. i:. :.f I. L '1, J.,,. .. u.1 :,i,,-l.,i :.ran ges, ba-to the

surprise of the Kinton family, he was also on his
way to England. The business which took him
there, he wrote, was pressing; and as he wished
to catch a certain steamer, it would be impossible
for him to stop to see his relatives. He had not
yet decided the important question of a trip to the
Bermudas; but on the way he would make some
calculations, and see whether or not he would be
able to give them this pleasure, and as he would
pass through Afton, their railroad station, where
the train stopped for a few minutes, he would send
them his decision, by telephone..
The Kinton house, like several other residences
in the neighborhood, was connected with the rail-
road station, about four miles distant, by a tele-
phone wire; and communication in this way was
often very useful, especially in bad weather.
At first the girls declared that they would wait
for no telephone, but would go to the station and
see Uncle Rodney, if it were only for a minute;
but on consulting a time-table of the railroad they
found that the train on which their uncle would
travel would reach Afton very early in the morn-
ing; and Mrs. Kinton put a veto upon the propo-
sition to take the long drive at such an unseasonable
hour. Consequently there was nothing to do but
to wait for the day on which Uncle Rodney had
said he would pass through Afton and be ready at
the telephone at the proper time.
On the day after the receipt of this letter there
came to the Kinton house a pleasant, little, mid-
dle-aged gentleman, who received a hearty wel-
come from every member of the family. This was
Professor Cupper, an old friend and a man of
science. It was his custom, whenever he felt like
it, to spend a few days with the Kintons. Seasons


and weather made no difference to him. Friends
were friends at any time of the year; and weather
which might be bad for ordinary purposes was
often very suitable for scientific investigations.
Of course the Professor was soon made ac-
quainted with the exciting state of affairs, in which
he immediately took an animated interest. He
well knew what winter-time was in the Bermudas.
Hle knew how his dear young friends would enjoy
Christmas among the roses and the palmettoes;
and he talked so enthusiastically about the land
of flowers that the girls were filled with a wilder
impatience; and even their mother admitted that
she was beginning to be nervously anxious to know
what Rodney would say. If the girls were to be in
ihe Bermudas before Christmas it was necessary to
know the fact soon, for certain preparations would
have to be made. If Rodney were not such a
queer sort of fellow, she said, he would have made
up his mind days ago, and would have written or
telegraphed his decision. But this sort of touch-
and-go communication suited his fancies exactly.
The eventful morning arrived. Before it was
yet light the two girls were up, dressed, and at the
telephone. They had no reason to expect the
message so soon; but the train might be ahead
of time, and Uncle Rodney might have but half a
minute in which to say what he had to tell them.
On no account must the telephone bell ring with-
out some one being there to give an instant re-
Consequently the Kinton girls, even little Ruth,
were at the instrument, where Professor Cupper
speedily made his appearance; and not long after-
ward Mrs. Kinton joined the expectant group.
The moment arrived at which the message
could reasonably be expected. All were in a
tingle The moment passed; it became long
passed. The girls looked aghast at each other!
What had happened? Even the ruddy face of
the Professor seemed to pale a little. He stepped
to the instrument and sounded the signal. No
answer came. He sounded again and again, with
like result. For ten or fifteen minutes he called
and rang without response.
"What can possibly be the matter? cried
Elinor. Is everybody dead or asleep at the
station? "
"Not likely," said the Professor. "But.it is
likely that your wire is broken."
At this announcement the girls broke into lam-
entations. Uncle Rodney must have arrived and
departed, and the words which he had undoubt-
edly spoken into the telephone at the station had
been lost! Now, how could they know what their
uncle had decided upon ? How could they know
whether he intended them to go to the Bermudas or

not? He was to sail from New York that day, but
he had not informed them what steamer he intended
to take, and they did not know where to send a
telegram. He had asked them to write to him in
the care of a banker in London ; but if they were
to send a letter after him it would be so long be-
fore they could get an answer to it! Even a mes-
sage by cable would not be much better, for he
would not receive it long before he would receive
a letter. There was absolutely nothing which they
could do.
This mournful conclusion weighed heavily upon
the whole family. Even little Ruth, who did not
exactly understand the state of affairs, looked as if
she were about to cry.
"I should have liked it better," exclaimed
Maud, "if Uncle Rodney had told us we could not
go; but to hear, after the holidays are over, that
we might have gone, would be simply too hard to
"As soon as I have had some breakfast," said
the Professor, I will go to the station--if Mrs.
Kinton will give me a conveyance -and I will find
out what has happened."
"And we will go with you !" cried Elinor and
After a hasty breakfast the Professor and the two
girls set out in a sleigh for Afton. The snow was
soft and not very deep, and the roadway beneath
was rough; but notwithstanding the bumps and
jolts, and the occasional blood-curdling gratings
of the runners upon bare places, the impatient
girls urged George, the driver, to keep his horses
on their fastest trot.
When they were about half-way to the station,
the Professor cried out:
Hi! there it is The line is broken!"
All looked around, and could see plainly enough
that the wire had parted near one of the poles,
and that part of it was resting on the ground. But
it was of no use to stop; they were in a hurry to
reach Afton to learn if Uncle Rodney had been
there, and if he had left a message.
When they reached the railroad station they
found that Mr. Carr had arrived on time; that he
had telephoned to his sister's house; and that he
had gone. The station-master told them that
he had been outside, and had not heard what Mr.
Carr had said, but that he thought it probable,
since he had a very short time in which to say
anything, that he had rung the bell, and without
waiting for an answering ring, had delivered his
"That is very likely," said the Professor, "for
Mr. Carr knew that his nieces were expecting to
hear from him at the moment the train arrived
here, and that they would, therefore, be ready at


their telephone. But as the line was broken, of
course the message never reached them."
Very much dispirited, the little party drove
home. The girls had been buoying themselves
up with the hope that Uncle Rodney knew that
the wire was broken, and had left a message for
them at the station; but, instead of this, he had
gone away in the belief that he had communicated
with them, and would, therefore, do no more.
Now they could not expect to hear from him until
he reached England, and it would then be too late.
The kindly nature of the Professor was affected by
this disappointment of his young friends; and the
thought came to him that had he been rich enough
he would, himself, have made them a present of a
trip to the Bermudas. Even George, the driver,
who knew all about the affair and was deeply inter-
ested in it, wore a doleful face.
They drove slowly homeward, and when they
reached the place where the wire had been broken,
the Professor asked George to stop, and he got out
to take a look into the condition of affairs. There
was no real need that he should do this, for of
course he could not repair the damage, and the
station-master had promised to attend to that. But
he had an investigating mind and he wished to find
out just how the accident had happened.
It was easy enough to see how the wire had been
broken. A tall tree stood near the spot, and from
this a heavy dead limb had fallen which must have
struck the wire--this had been broken off close
to one of the poles, and from the supporting in-
sulator near the top of the pole an end of the
wire, an inch or two in length, projected. From
looking up at the damaged wire the Professor
glanced down the pole, and when his eyes rested
upon the ground he saw there, lying on the frozen
crust of the snow, a little dead bird, its wings partly
The Professor stepped quickly to the pole, and,
stooping, regarded the bird. Then he stood up,
stepped back a little and looked up at the broken
wire. After which he advanced toward the bird,
and looked down at it. From these observations
he was called away by the girls, who wished to
know what he was looking at.
Without answering, the Professor carefully picked
up the bird, and returned to the sleigh.
It is a poor little dead bird !" exclaimed Maud;
"a dead, frozen bird "
Yes," said the Professor, that is what it is."
And, resuming his seat, they moved on.
For the rest of the way the Professor did not
talk much; and when they reached the house,
without taking off his hat, coat or overshoes, he sat
down on a chair in the hall and steadfastly re-
garded the bird which lay in his outspread hands.

Mrs. Kinton, with Ruth, came hurrying down-
stairs. Did you discover anything? she asked.
Maud was about to speak when the Professor
interrupted. "Yes," he said, delivering his words
slowly, and with earnestness, "I think I have dis-
covered something. I have reason to believe that
the message sent by Rodney Carr is in this bird."
Exclamations of amazement burst from all his
hearers. "What do you mean?" cried Mrs.
I will tell you," said the Professor. And they
all gathered around him, gazing with astonished
eyes at the bird which he held. "By a falling
limb," he said, "your telephone wire was broken
close to the glass insulator on one of the poles, and
on the side of the pole nearest this house. At the
bottom of the pole directly under the fracture I
found this dead bird. Now my theory is this.
The limb probably fell during the high wind of
last night. The bird, taking an early morning
flight, alighted on the broken end of the wire which
projected a little from the pole after the manner
of a twig. While settling on this slight perch and
probably fluttering its wings as it took its position,
Mr. Carr sent his message along the wire.
"If the end had merely projected into the air, there
would have been no circuit, and no message: but
the bird's little feet were on the wire, one of his flut-
tering wings probably touched the pole or the
block, a connection with the earth was made, and
the message passed into the bird. The little creat-
ure was instantly killed, and dropped to the ground,
its wings still outspread."
"Do you mean," cried Elinor, "that you be-
lieve Uncle Rodney's message is now in that
bird ? "
Yes," said the Professor, his eyes sparkling as
he spoke, I believe, or, at least, I strongly con-
jecture that your uncle's message is now in that
curious complication of electric threads which is
diffused through the body of a bird, as it is through
that of a man, and which is known as the nervous
Mrs. Kinton and her eldest daughter were too
surprised to say a word, but Maud exclaimed:
"A dead bird with a message in his nervous
system is of no good to anybody Oh, you poor
little thing, not only dead but frozen, if you could
but .wake up and tell us whether Uncle Rodney
said we were to go to the Bermudas or not to go,
you would be the dearest and best bird in the
"I have been considering this matter very ear-
nestly," said Professor Cupper, and I am going to
try to get that message out of the bird. If its nerv-
ous system is charged with the modulated electric
current produced by your uncle's words, I do not


see why those modulations should not be trans-
ferred to a delicate electrical machine, which should
record or repeat the message, faintly perhaps, but
with force enough for us to determine its purport."
If you can do that," said Elinor, it will be a
miracle! "
Mrs. Kinton's mind was in a state of bewilder-
ment. She could not readily put full faith in what
the Professor had said, and yet science had done
so many wonderful things, and the Professor him-
self had done so many wonderful things, that she

uncle's message the moment it was reproduced,
if, indeed, he should be able to reproduce it at all.
How this message was to be made known,
whether by means of a phonograph, or a grapho-
phone, or some other electric appliance, the Pro-
fessor did not say. He was going to consult with
some scientific brethren, and they would help him
to determine what sort of experiments ought to be
tried. He would bring back with him the neces-
sary instruments, and perhaps also one or more
of his learned friends, for this was a matter in


4, .

.- I

could not bring herself to entirely doubt litin; -.:
she gave up all attempts to comprehend thi: i,:ir-
ter, and went away to attend to her ]J..-,ih.:,.
duties. At any rate, his efforts to get a r.-! :pl.:.uI.
message out of a bird could hurt nobody, :....i iL.
succeeded in interesting and diverting h-i .:iiu i.
ters it would be a positive benefit.
The girls plied the Professor with ques: .... i i.l
the more he discussed the subject the more firmly
he became persuaded that it would be a crime
against science to allow this great and unique
opportunity to pass unimproved.
He did not take off his hat and coat at all; but,
calling to Mrs. Kinton, he earnestly requested her
to send him to the station in time to take the next
train to New York. There he would procure the
electrical appliances which he needed, and return
to her house in the evening, or, at the latest, the
next morning.
Of course the Professor went to New York, for
everybody could see that he must not be thwarted
in this most important investigation. He would
have taken the bird with him, to try his experi-
ments on it in the city; but apart from the fear
that the electrical conditions of the little thing's
nervous system might be disturbed by the journey,
he was determined that the girls should hear their

," '!.. '

.. 4 I l

which he was sure all scientific minds would be
The bird whose nervous system, according to
Professor Cupper's belief, was charged with the
electric message in which Elinor and Maud took
so deep an interest, was left with these two girls
by the professor, with injunctions to take the best
of care of it. Accordingly they carried it into an
unused upper room, and there it was gently placed
upon a small table; and when they went out they
carefully closed the door, in order that no cat or
other enemy should disturb or injure what Maud
other enemy should disturb or injure what Maud


called "the ornithological depository of their so loud if there was any danger of a little bird be-
fate." ing at the other end of the wire.
The direct interest of little Ruth in this affair She went upstairs and entered the room, and as
she was a careful little
girl, she shut the door
behind her. Then she
drew a chair up to the
table, and, leaning upon
it, earnestly regarded the
bird. So far as she could
s. I see, there was nothing
Wai the matter with it except
__ that it was dead; and she
S" knew very well that in
various ways and man-
ners a great many birds
S. do become dead. There
seemed to her nothing
very peculiar in the condi-
tion of this one.
Presently, however,
'she observed something
Z.. which did seem to her to
be peculiar. She drew
back from the table, let
her hands fall in her lap,
and a thoughtful expres-
sion came into her face.
"Do dead birds wink ?"
."- she softly said to herself.
S It seemed as if this
.t l'l' were really the case, for
while she spoke one eye
'. *' of the bird was, for
1=2; ,the second time, slowly
opened and quickly shut.
I','' tWhile she was ponder-
ing upon this strange oc-
.' currency a momentary
tremor passed through
the body of the bird. It
was very slight, but her
'I young eyes were sharp.
A It is shivering," she
itsaid. Poor thing! It
must be cold "
She glanced at the
ELINOR AND MAUD. window and saw that one
of the upper sashes had
was not great, for there was no idea of her going to been lowered. This had been done by her sisters,
the Bermudas. But she had heard what had been who had thought the room too warm. She went
said about this mysterious bird, and although she to the window and found that, even standing on
did not understand it, that did not at all interfere a chair, she could not push up the sash.
with her curiosity and desire to have an undis- Then another idea entered her mind. She went
turbed look at the little creature which had been to her own little room, which was on the same
choked to death by a message from her uncle floor, and brought back with her her doll's bed
Rodney, who she thought should not have spoken and bedstead. She knew perfectly well what a


fond mother should do to warm a doll who was
too cold. She put the bedstead on the floor, away
from the window; then she took off the two little
blankets, and, opening the register, laid them
upon it. When they were thoroughly warmed,
she took them to the bed, and, having arranged
everything very neatly, she went to the table, ten-
derly picked up the poor, cold little bird, and car-
rying it to the bed, snugly tucked it in between
the blankets.
Ruth now seated herself upon the floor near by
to watch over her little charge, and very soon she
saw a decided shaking between the blankets.
"It keeps on being cold," she said. And tak-
ing up a little down quilt which was used by her
doll only in very cold weather, she placed that over
the bird.
This additional covering, however, did not seem
to have any effect in quieting the little creature.
From shaking, it began to struggle. In a few mo-
ments one wing was almost entirely out from under
the covering and exposed to the air; and while
Ruth was endeavoring to put back this wing the
other one came out, and then one leg. When
she felt the sharp little claws on her hand, she
was startled, although they did not hurt her, and
involuntarily drew back. In a moment the bird
wriggled itself out from between the blankets.
Then it hopped into the middle of the bed; and
as Ruth put out her hand to catch it, it spread
its wings and flew to the back of a chair.
Ruth started to her feet, and as she did so the
bird flew from the chair and began circling
around and around the room. The little girl did
not know what to do. She felt that the bird
ought to be caught, or that somebody ought to
be called; but before she had decided upon any
further action the bird perceived the open win-
dow, and, darting through it, was lost to her view.
Tears now came into the eyes of the little girl,
and slowly she went downstairs and told what
had happened. Elinor and Maud were shocked
and distressed, and even their mother was truly
grieved. No matter how things resulted, it would
be a great disappointment to the Professor not
to be able to try his experiments. Ruth was
too young to be blamed very much for doing
what she thought was an act of kindness, but
the girls found great fault with themselves for
not having locked the door of the room.
"As it was likely that the bird was merely
stunned by the electric current, and frozen stiff
as it lay upon the snow," said Elinor, "it might
have been easier for the Professor to get at the
message than if it were really dead. A live nerv-
ous system, I should think, would be more likely
to retain an electrical impression than a dead one."

Don't talk that way," cried Maud, "or you
will have us all wild to go out and catch that bird.
It would be the worst kind of a wild-goose chase,
for a bird with a message in him looks just like
any other; and even if we had tied a rag to its
leg or put a mark on it I think that by the time it
had been chased from field to forest, and had had
stones hurled at it and nets thrown over it, its
electrical conditions would have been a good deal
disturbed. No We may as well drop this bird
of Fate as it has dropped us. I don't believe the
message went into him anyway. It simply shot
out into the air, and we shall never know what it
was until Uncle Rodney reaches England and
writes or telegraphs back. Then, of course, it
will be too late, and we shall have to be content
to wait for the Bermudas until some other winter."
One thing must be done instantly," said Mrs.
Kinton. We must telegraph to Professor Cup-
per what has happened. It would be very unkind
to let him put himself to any further trouble now
that the bird is gone and there is nothing for
himself or his friends to experiment upon."

S.. .
,; ^ ." ^'-

Ir --

- -- 4

I' r -

.2; ;


In twenty minutes George was riding to the sta-
tion with a message which briefly stated that the
bird of hope had revived and flown away.


Elinor and Maud went early to bed that night.
They had a feeling that this world was a very tire-
some place, and there was nothing in it worth
sitting up for. But the next morning's mail brought
a letter from Professor Cupper which made differ-
ent beings of them.
The letter had been written late the night be-
fore, and was brief and hurried, as the Professor
wished to get it into the post-office before the last
mail closed. In it he said that he had been greatly
disappointed and grieved by the news that it was
impossible for him to proceed with the most inter-
esting experiment of his life. That was over and
done with, but he had been earnestly pondering
upon the subject, and had come to the conclusion,
for reasons which he would afterward explain, that
the message was a favorable one, and that Mr.
Carr had told his nieces that they were to go to
the Bermudas. The Professor had decided to
remain in New York for a few days, but would
then return and finish his visit; and would give in
full his grounds for the conviction that the Christ-
mas present which the girls so earnestly desired
had been sent to them.
I believe it! cried Elinor. "It is certain
that Uncle Rodney sent us a message, and if Pro-
fessor Cupper, who knows all about these things,
says it was the right message, I see no reason to
doubt it."
I don't doubt it," said Maud. I believe any
other kind of a message would have killed that bird
as dead as a door nail."
At first Mrs. Kinton felt perplexed, but as she
so well understood her brother's generous disposi-
tion, and had such confidence in Professor Cupper's
scientific ability, she did not feel warranted in
opposing the conviction of the Professor and the
desires of her daughters; and preparations for the
trip to the Bermudas were immediately commenced.
Of course her brother had sent no money, but it
had been arranged how his sister could draw the
money on his account.
Fingers now began to fly, and Elinor and Maud
felt that the world offered many reasons why they
should sit up late. In two days they were in New
York, and on the day afterward, with their friends,
they sailed for the Bermudas.
Shortly after their departure the Professor ar-
rived at Mrs. Kinton's house, and, for the first time
in his life, was delighted to find that his young
friends were not there. He lost no time in giving
Mrs. Kinton his grounds for the opinion he had
sent her.
On some accounts," he said, "it is a pity the
bird escaped ; but, after all, this matters little, for,
alive, it could have been of no use to me. Its

emotions on reviving in a state of captivity would
probably have obliterated, in its nervous system,
all electric impressions. Having, therefore, noth-
ing positive on which to base my judgment, I
was obliged to consider the subject with reference
to probabilities. The bird was not killed by the
electric current; it was merely stunned, and after-
ward stiffened by lying upon the snow. I there-
fore infer that the message sent was a very brief
one; and, being brief, I infer that it was favor-
able. Your brother has too kind a heart to say to
the girls: "No"; or, "You can not go." No
matter how limited his time, he would have man-
aged to say something in the way of explanation
and palliation. On the other hand: "Yes," or,
" Go and be happy," would be all-sufficient. Such
a message might merely stun a bird; a longer one
might kill it."
Maud said something of that kind," remarked
Mrs. Kinton.
Maud is a very intelligent girl," said the Pro-
fessor, and it will not surprise me if she ulti-
mately engages in scientific pursuits. And now,
madam," he continued, "how grateful should we
be to science If we had not been able to induce,
even inferentially, through the medium of an or-
dinary bird, the purport of your brother's message,
we should have known nothing of his desires and
"No," said Mrs. Kinton, smiling, "nothing!"

The girls spent a royal two weeks in the Bermu-
das, and shortly after their return there came a letter
from their uncle Rodney in answer to one in which
their mother had given him a full account of the
state of affairs. In this letter Mr. Carr wrote:

As well as I can recollect them, I telephoned to you these
words, Very sorry, but I can't send the girls this year. Better
luck next Christmas! All well? But I could not wait for an an-
swer to this question, for the whistle sounded, and I was obliged to
run for the train. It was much against my will that I sent this mes-
sage. Affairs had gone badly with me in California; and I found,
too, that if I did not very speedily show myself in England I should
have heavy losses. I earnestly considered the question on my way
toward Afton, but finally decided that tnder the circumstances I
could not afford to give the girls that Bermuda trip. But when I
reached England I found my affairs in a great deal better shape than
I had any reason to expect. By the time I got down to London,
and found your letter, I was already considering what I should do
to compensate the girls for the loss of their semi-tropical Christmas;
for I knew it was then too late for them to go south with the San-
dersons. So when I learned that my message had not been re-
ceived, and the girls had gone to the Bermudas, I was delighted
In spite of your explanations, I must admit that I do not comprehend
how that bird and Professor Cupper managed the matter; but no-
body can be happier than I am that they managed it so well.

Maud sprang to her feet, one hand in the air:
"How grateful we should be," she cried, "for
the blessings of science "



DEDICATION.-This story is dedicated to that happy young girl, Jean Trego, always tenderly kind to old people,
and always a lover of the outdoor world.


- tt__ -_ -- --___ .-



THE river Ottawa reflected such a sunset as
one sees only in northern latitudes after the air has
been cleared by thunder-storms. Its purple-brown
water, which has gained for it the name of royal
river, spread into far-off bays, the slate rock of its
bed rising here almost to the surface, and there
lying submerged by the channel's full flood. Can-
ada is a country of river-like lakes and lake-like
A long drive of logs floated in the current,- the
last drive of the season, for it was very late in
May. Three weeks before, the river had been
floored with unsawed timber, and from shore to

ment building gs of Ottawa town stand out on their
headland like a vision of palaces in the clouds.
Distantly, he could see the French suburb, Hull,

tossing up of the river where Chaudi re Falls make
their tumult. The logs he was tending must go
down a slide, or large descending flume, apart
from boiling rapids and cascade. L

Bruno-Morel looked eagerly to the slide; he
would ride down it for the delight of being

splashed. There were so many things he liked
in his work. The winter woods life, the ringing

of axes on resonant air, the swish of logs hauled
through sno- -Bruno was one of the teamsters;

the log-house at night with its double row of
[ i .; i', ..r -.1 '. l !, ; ;,,,,,[_..1 1 oi :1 11 d r

bunk s around two Ottalls and its ang of benches
headland like a vision of palaces in the clouds.

Distantly, hem, its culdentral earthen hearth built
directly under a squharves, and betwixt the roof and built
tossing up of the river where Chaudiere Falls make
their tumult. The logs he was tending must go
down a slide, or large descending flume, apart
from boiling rapids and cascade.
Bruno-Morel looked eagerly to the slide; he
would ride down it for the delight of being
splashed. There were so many things he liked
in his work. The winter woods life, the ringing
of axes on resonant air, the swish of logs hauled
through snow-Bruno was one of the teamsters ;
the log-house at night with its double row of
bunks around two walls and its range of benches
below them, its central earthen hearth built
directly under a square hole in the roof and built


~u~=II:. ~
?- ,



above the height of a man's knees, glowing with
coals like a furnace. There was always a swing-
ing crane fixed to this flueless fireplace, and on the
crane hung a kettle full of strong tea to which the
men helped themselves as often as they pleased.
Bruno was sixteen years old, and the outdoor
life had knit closer his wiry muscles and warmly
tinted his dark French skin. He not only felt able
to grapple with destiny, but he looked on destiny
itself as a protecting saint. The people of his race
live with little care and less toil. They sun them-
selves happily; the men smoke; the women knit
stockings ; it is always afternoon of a good day to
the French-Canadian. He seldom cares to be
rich; his customs have long been established. He
inherits his strip of land ; or if he fails to inherit,
there is always something to do; a man is foolish
to break his neck hurrying. It did not trouble
Bruno-Morel that he and twenty of his brothers
and sisters had been cast out from their native
Chaudiere valley, because the father picked on
Jules to succeed to the land. It had been the talk
of the family that Jules was to get the land, years
before his father turned fifty.
Oh, but the Chaudi&re valley was lovely when
the sun shone across it after rain! There you
mjght see each side of the transparent river-the
rock-combed river-such green strips of farms as
Bruno believed could be found nowhere else in
Canada. And if not in Canada, where in the
world ?

He sometimes wondered if he could lay by work
at fifty, as fathers in that valley did, and sit under
jutting eaves, or by winter fire, to smoke his pipe
the rest of his days. He scarcely went so far as to
think that the lengthy age a French-Canadian
generally enjoyed might be put to better use. The
customs of his fathers were good enough.
An Americanized Frenchman had spent the
winter in the logging camp, and was now one of
Bruno's two companions in the boat tending this
last drive of logs. He had lived over larger sur-
faces of the globe than Bruno could even imagine,
and liked to be called the Wanderer by his wood-
mates. His dialect was so much worse than ordi-
nary Canadian-French that once, when testifying
in court, the judge begged him to leave off Eng-
lish and speak French; which he did, so speaking
it that the judge could not recognize his mother
We shall not camp on the river bank to-night,"
said the Wanderer, in the jargon he affected, draw-
ing his sacks of wrinkles closer around restless
eyes, and staring through the lovely glow at those
fairy towers of the capitol.
"No, no, no; I sleep in a raft-shanty to-night,"
said Bruno-Morel exultingly. "I float on down
Ottawa and give myself no trouble. My pay in
one pocket and a lump of black-pudding in the
other. Zt! He snapped his gay fingers.
"My wife will come out when she sees this
drive," remarked the other man, scanning that

' Chaudiere, or caldron, is a name given not only to a lovely foaming river flowing into the St. Lawrence from the south, but to many
rapids and falls throughout Canada.


side of the river on which Quebec province lay throne chair in parliament yonder. But since I am
and the French suburb straggled. not Jules," he snapped his fingers, laughing, and
And where will the raft-shanty land thee, my began to sing:
pretty Chaudiere pebble," inquired the grimly t" En roulant ma boule-le roulant,
humorous Wanderer, of Bruno-Morel,-" suppos- En roulant ma bou-le.
Der-rinre, chez nous, y a-t-un 6-tang,
ing you find a raftsman willing to take you aboard? En roulant ma bou-le.
I go to Quebec to see my sisters Alvine and Trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant,
Rou-li roulant, ma bou-le roulant."
Marcelline. Then, perhaps, will I make the good
pilgrimage." Behind the Manor lies the mere,
I t u ,(In rolling my ball.)
S' My sisters Alvine and Marcelline. I thought Three ducks bathe in its water clear,
you told us you had twenty brothers and sisters." (In roiling my ball.)
Roly, rolling, my ball rolling,
Bruno-Morel lifted his eyebrows and shrugged In rolling my ball rolling,
In rolling my ball."
his shoulders carelessly. In rng my ba
Oh! they are all except Jules spread away
like leaves. They are old and have families of
many children. My sisters:- I tended them when
they were little; I led them out to play. If they -
wanted anything, 'Bruno-Morel, get it for thy y-
Marcelline.' 'Bruno-Morel, get it for thy Alvine.' voix senle.
Manyawhipping I took from the good mother before
she died, for pulling her onions for them to suck." 0 __=t =
"The whole province of Quebec," growled the
Wanderer, '' is a hundred years behind Amerikee. Away on their left the Laurentian mountain
A hundred years behind. At Ste. Anne's I go into range was being warmed from blackness to rosy
a shop. I am a man of small size, yet I grope down flushing. The river itself received color as if pink-
a step into that little pig'on-hole and knock my head ness had been poured to its very depths. This
against the top of the door. Why don't they have would last briefly, fading first to milk-opal, then
shops a man can step into without knocking his to gray. Finally a smoky mist would cover the
head? And there you find a woman
keeping post-office in a candle-box set
on end, with two shelves in it. And these
old Frenchmen with holdings of land,
what do they do, the lazy smokers, but
turn off duty at fifty, pick one child
to support them, and scatter the rest of ,.
their family to the four winds !
And what could you do better, my i "' ,-. -.:
fine Wanderer, if your land could be
cut up no smaller?" inquired Bruno- -- -
Morel, transfixing with his contempt -
the abuser of his fathers.
"I would n't be a hundred years be- -
hind the age," the Wanderer grumbled.
It's just as well," remarked the
other lumberman, speaking English as
his people often do to keep themselves
in practice. This mudderin' progress -
is more infidel than Christian."
The Wanderer grunted. *-
"This Bruno-Morel, he wouldgiveall -
the wages he can ever earn, to be master -
of that stony strip running uphill in THE RIVER FLOORED WITH LOGS. '
the Chaudidre valley ; is it not so ? "
"There 's no place like it in the world," said water, starred by electric lights on projecting
Bruno strongly. "I would rather live there and wharves and whitened by the foam-line of that
have Alvine and Marcelline by me, than sit on the boiling Chaudi&re.
All French-Canadians call going to the church and shrine of Ste. Anne de Beauprd making the good pilgrimage."
tThe first stanza of an ancient Canadian chanson. Mr. William McLennan's pretty rendering is given with the text.


The lumbermen were anxious to slide their raft
before the afterglow faded. The cribs were ready
for the plunge when a few of the withes and pegs
which fastened them in long trains were pulled
out, leaving small lots securely held tl'.. t;h1,r.
Bits of foam, like white butterflies, continually
filled the air above the half-circular falls whose
roaring interfered with the men's voices shouting di-
rections to each other. Betwixt their boat hugging
the north shore, and the cascade itself, intervened
a wide space of rapids, whirlpools, and dark rock.
Both shores seemed crowded with mills and facto-
ries, and a great bridge here spanning the river
seemed a causeway over lumber-docks.
Down that descending canal, the slide, shot one
and another bunch of timbers. The men poled
them into its race current.
An old Algonquin squaw, known as Sally, stood
on the bridge and watched this coming into har-
bor of freight from the woods. Her copper face
had the distorted, toil-saddened look so many In-
dian women wear, her black eyes reminding one
of the eyes of suffering dumb creatures. A bas-
ketful of birch-bark work and ornamented mocca-
sins was on her shoulders. Her coarse hair hung
down her breast and back. A blanket folded
around her trailed its point in the dust. She wore
a brown linsey petticoat; her moccasins flattened
themselves wearily on the bridge flooring.
The Algonquin woman had a son named Fran-
gois, who spent much time wandering away to his
Occasionally he was to be seen on the home-
ward road, nearly naked, saying he must go back
to see his old mother; and he usually remained
with her until she had clothed him again by her
various handcrafts.
Sally did not know that Frangois was at this
time on his way home.
He was skulking among buildings on the Que-
bec side of the river near a roaring flume among
rocks called the Devil's Hole. Francois had been
waiting for the shades of evening to help him on
his way, for he wore as scanty a remnant of tanned
leather as he had ever brought home.
Bruno-Morel seized his chance to .leap upon a
swaying crib. His companions laughed to see the
boy's muscular skill. Logs in water, if uncoupled,
are a most deceitful base; they roll over at a
touch. When most densely packed they part and
open a crushing mouth to swallow any victim; and
tenaciously do those wooden lips close over a man
when he has gone down. Nothing is more treach-
erous, unless it be the sawdust which spreads it-
self so like a sandy beach at the river's edge that
people have stepped upon it and plunged under. It
adds its own poison gas to the danger of drowning.

Both lumbermen had run many a slide. They
rowed ashore, thinking it no risk for Bruno-Morel
to poise himself on the last crib as it shot to the
brink of the slide:
"Rou-li roulant, ma boule roulant,
En roulannt ma boti-le."


Sally screamed to him from the bridge. He
looked up, then looked down, and saw what threat-
ened him as he took the plunge. The first crib
which had gone over had broken up, and the
timbers were floating at right angles in all direc-
tions. His single thought was how it would shame
him to be drowned in a slide, strong swimmer and
hearty lad that he was.
Bruno jumped for his life. But his crib jumped
equally far. It struck him as he dived.
The men above the slide knew nothing of this.
Sally ran, shouting in Algonquin and French, to-
ward the Quebec shore. She saw her son Frangois
slip to the water's edge and plunge after the boy.
Her outcry brought people together in a flock,
Bruno-Morel's fellow-lumbermen among them.
Both men threw off their woolen blouses and moc-
casin-like boots, and dived also.
Frangois came up dripping and like a mum-
mied merman, having found nothing. The other
rescuers, too, came up empty-handed. An excited
crowd searched with poles and lights long after
the even-glow had darkened to night.
It would have comforted Bruno-Morel to hear
the Wanderer say hoarsely to his surviving com-
panion as they tramped the walks of the French
suburb going to their beds:
That boy was caught in the break-up. He never
dropped that fashion through the bottom of the
Ottawa, merely running a slide "

Co ARinWR n11..

rlvo - ETllff tA lE S& t jE -ial ;, i i.

I ti n imnatlIfa f Jialy,, st n-ef BarI, Aiinae

diinumiit Pinaiiitf -f thiff 1- r..'i i. iL. fin al- atte n
ine any nrna ii nan 'iir.... asath -.' i Li1 *r T. r5an W ly,,
mnil ffiinmjtamih ikt anEmffanitt Rf&nM.

,. I ...I- ., -,. i. ,, .. t- i 'i
.In ,, I" -, :. .. alaffl { l -a ,.". i i ,:i il ", !I-tth
Nan -2lm o ,,.,. j A' *1ur t i0, i a'
,oiinr ,m a ,i '_li ti .. |inn its (i t -Iw oX *,,.1. 4aW i "tl
i..-. i ^-*-d AlanKE ifinm gpiigg

aa- -i tfli ._ .- d 1n .1.:i -*, *.1 .lv _. ,iaL :-- .. ,.,r

'-H mm mal]al {+tik.flh b 4 'fllix t .l' 4i oul l )& ift
toin tt miiiidh nans = t to d tlnh a i- -a .. n ii -a. ,frn -i

I- ,adh iing n ;-nallaH tl ff ('1i -uinJW' r ite t1i. t IIB, tt
ru .: .L '. 3; gpugge TO hofie iitt fmnd ii1amBtcS ihdbE

I I, -.. ii ', .., n niEi- ..n-''I '. *, r '..'-ii.t -, na t-
'in li at iaenno- ". eim-r way ,, iilb eili,, 1hey :. ii1tin-t i

iA n. M. n.. mi- il-1; -;x I t..,- --. I A1n 11ii -
d- fl. r tne iani-lir tiMrnr lladiahde n c iitt n- ,- i
oian1w--s cnmw Thin-m nan Sitt. 1araonane noit ar l ANdifei

ali- auniBn- ln- l i n ln tj ll a ittmnr, i l ,.i.t l i .t .- i, i ...ti a

in1ym wn-l1teir 1ai1rinuI & llaillmadBto A
'llhnin nm-n an an sill- fn-itt ,tit lmn-ntflnnann niina-r a lnti

i 4 : i' -- al. .e. 11 [I 'il i t .. .1.. ..i i 1 ...
'ar-on-ru tnni-fnill sBE TnBInan-e tttne v-int idrn- tn1.1 le Mllit titst
h -"iin t lfe. "heiidilaand &*-tl"7it. .... ,,ttw ,,ltxt-
i- n-a-Sll iil. i,.. i. -n ;. 6 i t'i lhNa p All iinne . nm -l
tia (ni lhIen-r wany,, asn Ia 1 tllfl Sin-n-itt an-ttn-ll iteta
-men--antua ocf wtinlalix1tatfln- n-]rihn- df -1- '*'.r a.. n l
I -.. '1...l..i.l U',u -a sn-'. I. i- -. l I l ll

S)I- ill ti -7 ..itI e l ia, t itv a rdlmere1..l l*.iuih

A _. .r i. .. h r... r.c | ,.' .-i i.. iti .!.4i|. .. ,i .i ,-p m t '
i an ame ass, t ',* I. Ull;i 1', Mon-fi l. ini-yt lK an-en-
Smun-ian (nff Snin-n, 1,11 oiL i...l; grn-inl '**-i .1' i aimnsf
'fin-dimintl uanifsilk withf attatn ea 1 .' 1hntt till wath-i
I .'. hi I .,in i r.ii, nn -n -mew i ll- t. 11.1

;;'' :n aln- ). ." n -iOrn- il .a ...1.< t-ta ntt he in'di' rii t'

&ih '7,'aBIta iit e d lhiar mit iia CCHfini-iviie di C-l
li-an Atns-ait ( tto h-el1nn. ttanums t1tettr1!tl -wittl. nh-n-m
rssn on -I 11...' waiilla iia at .r i .'I' ii. n wate
1 -': 1" .....*..;...- ....i ... l l i' .- I -nn nllttm
tilnuimn othair-o iin hbun-on win .in- I1.1.; df
"nttin-gy iin tll-mm. IlhM-e war n-n-nt-iin-it .:. ii tto-
.l :) .-no n -I -- .n .- i. ,,. ,, .li,
*i l :i *** n .
'-'.7 'b. 'I nilh talntnemscq iinii .a, othe-
I'" !' ..L(It l-.. fftn-ain- hih im-nwytta 'inEf ss.

AmnIl s'meassil lnvimestl e q imnadte n t-ai g t-l&y Aidi-
pit dfit i n dh-f uIb liil- I a_ i d m n nnallnlatkln .. ,..rn..--:n., .......

Ssro ti~klTi altiti. Allireig i ...ii 1 i wl iihn jl1 .'i^ t 1kei:.
,.,atial niT-a. at. d ni -ri nt-.illy ;; ,n-n. ....-..n,,,-..n..-l fn little

no e amlie ioffite ( -in -rar ntdl aita n-a-gil 1 (I tll-ae aLml at.
A ttenntt sratn-fl a5in lte 1in-an-m,, aill in-nair iitn ? p ii l f.
k. :r. r., tB ll h ad ql n n. t. ..a... v iwon i=40is
tandl1 itptiiitAl. Thi tite m niin lt a t tflte i .'-... .. ..* : -
nolniit aol .'-. ,- .,Il lttle gran)e,, ltanxwailt a lt' isanx ton- r
anndl III.. i.. '. -. ..
,. n-...-.., i-n simiK TMa- iffi :'.. n. .. n:i Ih f an-
ninhngjnifng ]i *1, *.'. m amni i lantra sti t at Allninmte. Ats
tndii -s nitti, inni-niid- Isit nintl iiam6ar na- snlhitatl Q(tdb

o,,ii i,,r:,. ll 1
A'11 s w'.'.I sus!: -ml es w e-. w I ll liao-atil inktainfe; f ntil arl
tleaiin t-lte IfiniibteI. 1 1iit itttial, wi tals- sta tan s
atkaisi i wil-e npa-,, anil Oldiithr Iy 0,11.* .. iji-ae

a .nh i i'iI ..... ... tnndf 1hm l tl- e fily '' afi. ti -. iti .
. i i' .-:ah1..i *, t I .: 1- .. I. i -. .. 1. a t
ailll t-hE a' t inianm. Ia l rttenate ,f' mlanitt niiais

iiiEt i-a ... i ,- l n--ltin- a n-tt in n..- I-t I .I'i,
nsihaSal tnin- 11strall t-te ha f hl lrttial n-Eff ttie atiii' i
,, it,,, .-n--a, a th "- Cl -l i ~. i, i. f lic. d. i -,i -
: iiIt r t hr : llr ti. hi .._lly ha ,,: ..-il .i h Ir i m l. i' it

1 ni ti .e n- ni ii ttnni t y _n-iin-al l t aOn-! .I ,i !'11 l In--lit
.-.ll d ai -Ol t . l i. pA ?.I. nnl lwith s ir t oi l n:-". in-n 1

-* ,,. ,-, .. wI.i? a1 .11 1iv'ing- nanfln -t .:nn m i'.. -i.tnl! 1. an e thwl k nin

imlln tiae g ai si att 'te. m-il l dnlite 1i" tali, i0i',-
*t&-I ...'. fer wah- at lfsin- att( n W-le fsonp-i ii-ma I bl.7of
W aIaterit, n-itarttenk)ooit_ li-l:i', '.a .'I i'l." lhilli intnh tt

Allatinn was ai ttiwnuy -,ii I n.-wl' 'Ii. Ihattl ne-sn
and'i l1llliia Ilt1i il r ;, 1hn,-itna e ,an lly ii mo liar nsntu-lg
san-nil i '] i li.,i --...il, 1i,. l hn-ib l '-". ,. ,"ail,.n'i. '
Ipwiotlatt l. m. *.. ..n- itti i i'n- .m i i II iis. rn. -
IpmiEit-n n-ff f-na' waHidh atttnRatttltl n-tian-gis. Site
. *... .* i ilil Ii -i tib lntoeAm ailenin
S'n'-.:n o il IiT17.n iii'. I 71.' 1 '.7 .t 0a f 'i aw
nn-tl, nif ion ll Cite si r -tlanm n-n-n-n. I 1 lini -i olh 111 r,1
ftakn (Ofttie s1i nff nm-n 10 '. 'I oaii l Osmw
,vinm- nmnniitt til'li ona s. lair Lln-enw- Ilngani

don- ..in- t In Un.I sir. n-oiti -init ie {in-o.ti lt nain-a'
o-/n&-An-n-a. Ttim a'se tnll- (G' ra-hii.' 7n. (I ll'is 'ioisrtiTO -t

Wilanenhtt 11w l' nl. '.ii' n-tI ian-trfl sanne

THE =E11(( O) SITE.. ANE..


she had met at intervals during the afternoon. It
was a little wooden wagon on four wooden wheels,
drawn by a large Newfoundland dog. In the
wagon sat a lean, black-bearded man, unruffled
by the dust cloud which rushed at him. He was
going Alvine's way serenely, and with as little
effort of his own as an idol taking an airing. The
willing dog, hanging out his tongue, trotted along
the well-beaten track. It was a sight common
enough in the Chaudiere valley; nor to Alvine's
eye was there anything peculiar in the man's blue
woolen tasseled cap, and loose blouse girdled with
a fringed red sash.
Through the dust his twinkling black eyes saw
Alvine, and, touching his cap, he greeted her in
Good-evening, Mademoiselle."
"Good-evening, Monsieur," replied Alvine.
Before he rattled out of sight, a steeper grade
taxed the dog, and he had the grace to relieve his
claw-footed steed by turning himself around in the
wagon and pushing the ground with his heels.
Alvine had finished her bread and added some
furlongs to her journey, when it began to rain
gently. She had not asked for shelter when she
might have done so, and the walls now nearest to
her were the remains of a ruined stone house par-
tially choked up with weeds. It was unroofed,
excepting at the north-east corner. The stone
partition between two rooms was still perfect, and
a doorway pierced it. In each room there was an
oblong depression in the wall where cupboard or
closet shelves had been ranged. A tallmaple-tree
grew in the outer room beside the partition door.
The rain that began so gently became sheets of
flapping water by the time Alvine had darted into
this old ruin. She sheltered herself in the roofed
corner, half distrustful of it, though the wind blew
all rain away from her there and kept her dry.
As if that flood of sky-water washed darkness
down, the air grew opaque to sight, and it was
night where twilight hovered a moment before.
Alvine wished she had stopped at any inhabited
house. The rain poured and poured. She won-
dered if she would have to choose between staying
there all night and wading out in the storm. Al-
vine did not people the ruined house with terrors
projected from her own mind, and there would
be little travel on the Beaupr6 road; yet she rea-
sonably dreaded to spend the night there. Weeds
stood high and wet close to her. Spiders, of
course, and other tiny creatures had taken the

old place to themselves, and it was open to any
prowler that might creep about on four feet or two.
But balancing this was Alvine's reluctance to
wet her clothes. She was on a serious quest, and
they were her grand toilet and the only outfit she
had with her. Girls of fifteen are not usually so
careful, but Alvine had paid for these with her
own labor. A wool dress and trimmed hat in such
cases become more than a temporary skin; they
are part of one's life made portable.
There had been no lightning, and the wind
sunk; the rain had all that mountain and river
region to itself. Its downpouring sounded like
the steady murmur in thousands of hives. Now
an angry dash was made; it stung a wall or
thumped against rocks.
Alvine sat on some stones in her corner. Un-
expectedly, and as if many little flashes had been
reserved and melted into one cannonade, the light-
ning glared out terribly, painting all visible crea-
tion on a scroll of fire. Alvine saw as if with the
outer rims of her eyes every leaf on every weed
within the old walls; but her central sight saw
sharply through the doorway, standing against the
tree growing there, that very person for whom she
was searching-her brother Bruno-Morel. He
was looking up at the sky, his lips were parted,
and rain trickled down his cheeks.
She saw his drenched blouse, and noted it was
unbuttoned at the neck. She saw him one instant
the central figure of a glaring world, and the next
he was quenched from her sight in darkness, and
thunder jarring the ground defied her to have any
sense but hearing.
Alvine drew in her breath to scream his name,
and jumped up to run and catch him. But some
form of self-restraint stopped her in the act. She
could not say why it was. Whatever change had
come over him he would not hurt her; and Bruno
was not a boy to be unnerved by one's jumping
upon him from ambush. So much she loved him,
and had she not come out to hunt him and lead
him back docile by her side ? Yet now she hesi-
tated, and another flash came showing every bark
line on the tree, and no Bruno-Morel anywhere.
Alvine called instantly, running out regardless of
her clothes and that revival of flooding rain which
follows lightning :
Bruno, Bruno thy Alvine! Bruno, come
back, then. I, alone in the dark, thy Alvine -"
But no reply reached her as she splashed reck-
lessly along the road.

(To be continued.)

' -i'' C -
.4:- --
/ I.

I ,-. .r'' ~ k



THERE is a valley of the Rhine where the or-
chards are so full of fruit that the glossy boughs
bend to the grass with their load of crimson apples
and russet pears. So abundant is the harvest there
that the laden branches must be propped, enab-
ling them to bear their burden until the gathering-
time. Then the maidens mount the tall ladders
laid lightly to the branches, and shake lustily,
while the fruit falls thud, thud into the grass be-
neath, and the little children who play around,
minding cows, or often chasing the goats, gather
the fruit into light wooden carts, and draw home
their load in triumph; or they pack it in sacks for
stronger arms than their own to bear away.
Then these merry Swiss children clamber the
hillsides after the goats, or drive home the tinkling
cows to the milking; while their busy mothers set
to work and cut the rosy apples, threading them
upon strings to dry for winter food, when the trees
will be leafless, and the little ones, who now run
with heads uncovered to the sun, will be muffled
in knitted hoods and gloves against the icy wind
and snow.
In this happy valley lived "faithful Leo," but
not as a peasant's dog; he had nothing to do with
the life of these sunburnt children beyond sending
them scattered to right and left, with rippling
laughter, when he occasionally took a stroll in the
VOL. XVI.-7. 9

Leo lay basking in the sun outside a large hotel,
rich and formal, where he had been left by a mas-
ter who cared little for him, and who had never
returned to claim him. To this hotel flocked all
manner of travelers: some simply to amuse them-
selves with the music and the dancing, the chat-
ter and the picnics; while others, restless and
worn, came there to drink the waters and bathe
in the hot springs which travel from their grim
subterranean fountain into the pleasant valley.
Such invalids were too earnestly bent upon the
hope of cure to pay much heed to Leo as they
passed him on their way to the healing springs.
These tired people would cross a pine-log bridge
spanning the tearing river, sometimes singly, but
oftener in little bands (for suffering, like joy, seeks
fellowship), and disappear into the ravine, whose
path is seldom lighted by the sun, so sheer the
high rocks rise on either side. Only for one half-
hour of the day do the waters of that torrent reflect
the sun that burns the earth above. The springs'
healing powers should be great indeed to match
the terrible aspect of the place whence the waters
issue. Three thousand feet above hangs the
earth like a great dome, its crust pierced here and
there, letting the sunlight in, and laced across
with roots of rugged trees. One by one, along a
slender bridge, the sick folk (tapers in hand) feel
their way into this gnome world, the vapors


steaming from cavernous rocks, where for centu-
ries, even as far back as the days of early Chris-
tians, generations of sufferers have come for
But Leo's lot was not cast amongst these; his
days were spent in the pursuit of pleasure or in
enjoyment of serene content: he had not an ache
nor a pain under his fine tan coat, as he lay with
silky ears hanging heavily beside his haughty face,
and sturdy paws spread before him.
He was listening lazily to the sweet notes of a
stringed band as the music was wafted over beds
of China-roses and ox-eye daisies, yellow and
white. Now and then he snapped at a fly that
seemed by its buzzing to disturb his meditations,
but on the whole he was decidedly comfortable;
the visitors did not trouble him as they strolled
up and down, up and down, under the alcove
where he lay or brushed the extreme tip of his
tail as they swept long skirts upon the lawn. Most
of the strollers spoke to Leo in passing,- Dear
old fellow," "Nice Dog," they said,--but he only
blinked his brown eyes a little haughtily and took
no further notice of these advances.
There was but one visitor at Ragatz whom Leo
cared very much to see, and she was not his
owner, neither had she any relations with him be-
yond those of instinctive attraction. She was bet-
ter to him than mistress: she was the friend of his
The lady was tall, thin, and dark, not like an
English woman, although her name was English.
Her features were dark and oriental, and her dark
eyes overshadowed by masses of waving black hair;
but the eyes were kindly, and her voice like sweet
music, pleading and gentle. Around her there was
ever a scent of magnolias, as with soft silk skirts
she passed up and down the alcoves among her
friends, not often speaking, but listening to the
music, for she loved it.
She would toy with a silver heart that hung on
the girdle at her side, while holding out a hand to
pat the blunt head of the St. Bernard with her
long delicate fingers. At first Leo had answered
only by dreamily shutting his eyes with a look
of content, but he could not long resist the lady's
gentle ways: his dignified reserve broke down,
and soon he might be seen delightedly wagging his
tail at the first sign of the approach of the "lady
of the silver heart."
In course of time Leo began to be called the
"dark lady's dog"; he shared with her many a
dainty meal, when, away from the noise and heat
of the table-d 'dte, she sat at the open win-
dow of her room, taking dinner alone. Or he fol-
lowed her in long walks by the reedy banks of the
river, and up the zigzag paths through the beech-

woods, where the squirrels dart in and out; and
hiding himself cunningly from the servants, made
his bed outside her door at night.
The summer came to an end; the apples were
gathered in the orchard; the tinkling of cattle-bells
grew less and less; the pomegranates in the gar-
den-pots dropped scarlet flowers as their leaves
turned to russet gold; the dancing fountain in the
pleasure garden only trickled slowly over lazy fish
in the marble basin below; and the black swan
ceased to take his shower-bath beneath it, scatter-
ing timid ducks to right and left, as he had done
when the sun made summer rainbows in the misty
spray. The musicians put their instruments to
bed. The time had come for visitors to leave the
valley of cheerful plenty.
Poor Leo little knew the grief that was pre-
paring for him, and he shook himself joyously as
his dear lady held out her gloved hand one sunny
morning, saying, Come, old fellow, let us take
our last walk together."
Off he bounded in clumsy delight, pushing his
friend against the portico. Down.beside the river
where grow the Dornbeeren with orange fruit,-
the small birds' winter food,- along the tunnel
bridge over the tumbling Rhine, and out into the
nut-plantation, whence rose far-off voices of chil-
dren as the young branches cracked before their
eager footsteps.
Leo thought to himself it was the happiest run
he had had for a long time, perhaps ever, and he
tried to say this to his dear lady by sidling up to her
and rubbing his sturdy coat against the Indian
shawl she had wrapped about her, for although
the sun shone, there was a keen wind blowing
down the valleys. "We will come here again,"
thought the dog, as they crossed a shaky little
foot-bridge over the babbling stream.
The lady sat down to enjoy the picture of pur-
ple rushes fringing the water on one side, and
the fields of russet-gold millet where the reapers
worked. The women--their heads bound in
blue kerchiefs-were turning the ground for its
next year's burden of plenty, with glad health
in the sway of their limbs; and the wind made
rustling music in the fields of Indian corn.
How beautiful! she said aloud. I wish I
had a sixth sense to feel it all to the full. My
dear dog, I wish you too could enjoy all this as I
do"; and taking his sturdy head between her
hands, she added, "Yes, I am sure I was right
and my old governess wrong when she used to
argue that my dogs and cats had no souls.
Whether your soul, dear Leo, is quite your own,
or only a transmigrated one, I don't know, but
that you have a soul I am quite sure; and that it
is further on the road to perfection than some


still inhabiting humanity, I am inclined to believe.
Dear faithful old fellow, how I shall- miss you!"
and the petals of a rose in her shawl fell scatter-
ing around Leo, and even a beautiful tear fell
with them. The dog whined in sympathy, put up
a paw on the lady's arm, and pushing his heavy
body against her, said plainly, "Get up. Why
sadly lose time that might be enjoyed on the hills
yonder ?"
I fear your soul never transmigrated from poet
or artist, Leo, but rather from an athlete. Physi-
cal exercise seems your one idea of happiness."
And the lady rose to go farther. But Fate had
taken part against Leo's promised ramble. They
were to return, and sorrowfully, for the silver
heart he knew so well was missing from the lady's
i.1i'.. "Gone!" she exclaimed, running her
hand down the chain. Why did I not fasten it
more securely ? Surely I shall never be so fortu-
nate as to find it a second time. See, Leo," she
said, holding out the chain pendantless, I have
lost my heart. Go look for it "; and she turned
herself cautiously about, lest the lost treasure
should have lodged itself in some fold of her dress.
After sniffing about through the grass and fallen
leaves, Leo gave himself a convincing shake and
started off at a steady trot on the homeward road.
From the red kiosk of the little white-washed
church, nestled in the village hard by, sounded
the bell for vespers, echoed by the tinkling of the
cattle, driven home by their child-guide; while
hie tumbling river gathered up the sounds, and
carried them on with its own grand music. Clouds
'.Ir r.:,. and rain fell more and more heavily, the
wind soughed through the fields of wheat, and
lowerss of starlings dropped from the poplars into
the red gold reeds beneath.
The two trudged on,- Leo with steady pace
and purpose; the lady, the victim of each shining
stone and glittering leaf, losing hope with every
fresh beguilement. Suddenly the dog hastened
his pace and disappeared into the depths of a low,
covered bridge which the hastening evening made
dark and mysterious. At the extreme end of the
tunnel he set to work scraping vigorously between
the timbers, and the lady came up to him just in
time to see her silver heart, loosened from the
earth, drop between the planks into the sad-col-
ored waters beneath.
She had scarcely realized what had happened
before Leo was again at her side, the treasure in
his mouth It had fallen into the brink of the
river among stones and reeds, and so escaped
being swept away.
It would be difficult to say which was the greater,
the dog's pride or the lady's gratitude, upon the
recovery of the precious trinket.


"There," she said, dropping it into the bosom
of her dress, "lie there, faithless heart, and learn
not to throw yourself away so recklessly. I shall
fasten you more securely in future; this is not the
first time you have troubled me. Ah, Leo she
said, we might all take a lesson from you. But,
come, we must trudge on, for it grows late, and
this wind up the valley makes me shiver."
Things sad and happy, both must end; and so,
much too soon for Leo's content, did this last walk
with his dear lady. Next morning there was snow
upon the mountains, far down into the valley, and
days of cold comfort for our poor dog, for, with a
loving embrace, the lady left him.
Poor fellow! he followed the carriage, with its
jingling bells and grass-decked harness, as far as
the railway station; then came the merciless
whistle, and away went the train. Leo watched
it tearing through the valley till lost in the mount-
ain tunnel; then, sulky and dejected, he trudged
back to the empty hotel. They were dreary days
that passed while the "Hotel des Bains" was
being put in order for its winter sleep; dreary
to Leo, but not so to the workers. All labor
seems happy in this land of plenty; outside in
the valley men and women work on, regardless of
weather; gardeners turning the earth, dressing
the fruit-trees, weeding garden-beds; the saw and
the hammer never idle, and unceasingly the cattle-
bells tinkle; while within doors pretty Louise and
her fellows, with white caps slung back ever so far
from carefully coiled tresses, look as if the cease-
less scrubbings in which they have been employed
for a week past were pure enjoyment.
Was there ever such rubbing and scrubbing?
It did not cease even while the presiding genii
took their meals. Such washing of floors, such
polishing of paint and door-handles by the
women, such cleaning of windows and beating of
carpets by the men, and all directed under the
smile of content. It was enough to give such
grace to house-cleaning as would have satisfied
George Herbert himself.
Leo prowled about the empty corridors between
pails and brushes, his head hung down and his
tail limp indeed. He knew quite well that he
should not find his lady there, but an unquiet
mood was upon him, and would not let him rest.
Although Madame Vizinard, the hotel-keeper's
wife, offered him choice morsels from her plate, and
never forgot his liking for the bones of the foulet,
which appeared without fail at the family supper,
and although, so far as the busy season would
allow, she spoke kindly to him as she passed
from room to room inspecting the house-cleaning,
Leo could not respond graciously. He pined
after his lady of the soft dark eyes who had magic in





/ \II*

.1 1 1



I; .I-i;t 'ah, I

I ''

ill, I*I I t.l

i ,I

il 51L




/ ,A



her voice; the stout, brisk little body, the tightly
twisted hair, drawn back smooth and shining, the
shrill voice and busy step of the hostess, could not
charm away his melancholy.
Dogs' melancholy, like that of men, is some-
times unreasonable and ungrateful.
Last came the carpenters, with planks and nails.
They hammered up windows and doors, to save

the bright paint from rain and snow, and Leo
found himself left upon the door-step. Then
the ghostly figure of the Chef, in white cap and
garments, passed across the hall, and our dog was
alone, the rain-drops from the portico dripping
steadily over his coat. There he lay, looking
sullenly down the avenue of autumn leaves, quite
indifferent to the glories of their red and gold,



and wondering how on earth any dog, and above
all a St. Bernard, could be expected to endure
such a fate, when from force of old habit he found
himself pricking up his ears at the sound of wheels
upon the sodden gravel.
New visitors he said to himself, his melan-
choly for the time replaced by curiosity. Tinkle,
tinkle, they came, a carriage and four steaming
horses, the feathered plumes upon their heads look-
ing somewhat draggled after a day's journey from
the snowy heights of Davos into the rain-watered
plains below. Click! went the whip as the driver
turned his horses sharply round the corner, and
the carriage, of course, must follow, though there
seemed to be but slender connection between it
and the lightly harnessed team.
Not coming here after all," thought Leo; and
curiosity (which, like melancholy, is as strong in
dogs as in men) mastering other feelings, he trotted
off in the direction of the wheels. He had not far
to follow the tinkling bells, for the horses had
already stopped at Mr. Vizinard's private winter
apartments, whither he and his family had mi-
grated when carpenters took possession of the
great hotel. On the doorstep stood a stranger
wrapped in furs, who was talking cheerily to
" mine host."
He seems a fine fellow, and I shall value him,"
said the stranger, and he took out some gold
coins from his pocket-book. Fine coat; been
clipped, I see, for the hot weather. I suppose you
have had a good season here. As soon as I heard of
the dog I determined to come thus far out of my
way to bring him myself." Who is he ? thought
Leo, as he came close enough to sniff at the owner
of the fur coat, without appearing to be too in-
quisitive. What has he come for, so late in the
year?" thought Leo.
He seems friendly already," said the gentle-
man, giving the dog a kindly pat. Will you
come with us quietly, old fellow? or must we put
you in a box, I wonder ? "
Put him, Leo, a true St. Bernard, in a box!
Never! And he turned haughtily away.
Then there sounded a voice from the carriage,
calling, Leo, Leo, let us be friends! What a
beauty you are! The voice sounded like his
dear lady's. It spoke her language. Was it pos-
sible that he of the fur coat was going to the coun-
try of Leo's lost lady ? These questions passed
through the dog's brain; he turned, looked reluc-
tantly back at the hotel, then a little distrustfully
up into the stranger's face. Again that voice, so
like his mistress's,- and yet, not altogether hers,-
called him. He could resist no longer, and bounded
into the carriage, where, after sundry fidgetings
and twirlings among warm rugs, he felt himself at

ease, and with at least fresh hope in possibilities
of movement.
It was not long before the carriage started. At
first the novel motion made him restless; he barked,
and had some thought of jumping out, but the
encouragement of the lady's voice and the contents
of a luncheon-basket reassured him; and by the
end of their four-hours' journey Leo felt a philo-
sophical content.
The place of their halt was not likely to con-
duce to good spirits either in dogs or men. The
hotel called "Belle Vue," more with regard to
sound than fact, was one of those bare summer
buildings which have of late sprung up among the
snowy Alps. Its chilly salle a manger, with gilded
wall-paper, painted ceilings, and gas, in which half a
dozen belated travelers gathered at the end of a table
prepared for fifty guests (not with any hope of the
arrival of these, but from an idea on the part of
the maitre d'hdtel that this made business look more
prosperous) all this did not add to our dog's
content, nor could he be induced to feed there;
he made the round of the table, and then, with
sulky tread, passed out into the garden. But
here the prospect was no more encouraging.
There stood the fountain that would be gay, but
could not (for the water was only half turned-on);
the paths weed-covered; the arbors that would be
rustic, but were only spider-haunted ; tubs planted
with shrubs that had long since given up all
thought of growth in so chill an atmosphere; and,
most melancholy of all, a rustic aviary destitute
of birds. The dog looked before him to the snow-
clad hills; behind him, to the more distant snow,
with shining threads of little hillside streams, not
yet frozen in their winter sleep; on either side,
up the valley to the little church upon the hill, and
down the valley to the cavernous rocks where the
road lay engulfed; and hope well-nigh died
within him.
He was cold, hungry, and ill content. Things
looked little hopeful; yet he felt a restless sensation
of something better in store--something yet to
track, which should restore his happiness. He
wandered again into the hall, where stood a
stuffed eagle, the melancholy and only survivor of
the aviary in the garden. Leo looked up at it,
gave a slight shudder, and trotted upstairs.
Of a sudden all was changed; faint hope turned
to certainty As a housemaid, passing hurriedly to
prepare rooms for the new guests, flung open a
door at the head of the stairs, Leo bounded in.
The faintest scent of magnolias was about the
place, fragrance just enough to.remind one amidst
the snow hills and chilly air, that summer had
once been possible.
What a fuss that great dog makes," grumbled


the housemaid, who was the last of her race left
in the cheerless hotel, the civility of whose inmates
seemed to be frozen up for the winter, so little of
hospitality was there amongst them. If that
pretty lady, who spoke a civil word to every one
she came across, were still in this room, I would

hold of the golden thread of hope, and was reflect-
ing upon the best means to make that hope cer-
Very well," said the housemaid, I want my
supper, so if you 're not coming I 'm not going to
wait for you."


not mind being cooped up here all winter, even
though she lay ailing on this very sofa as she did,"
and the bustling maid shook up the pillows, send-
ing a scent as of summer flowers about the room;
' but to have people coming with their great
clumsy dogs about the place, at this time of year,
keeping me slaving here when the rest have gone
back to Lucerne, is not what I will endure another
year. I '11 not engage myself till the end of the
season' again"; and with a farewell swish of her
duster, she said, "Now you get up from the rug
there; I've made all tidy for ladies and gentlemen,
and not for a great dog like you."
But Leo only winked in his sleep; he had firm

Then she shut the door with a bang, and the
sense of having done something disagreeable
seemed greatly to soothe her irritated feelings.
Leo had made up his mind, remembering the
gold pieces he had seen paid down by his time-
being master, before he took possession of him.
He had a strong conviction that the exercise of a
little cunning would not be uncalled for in effecting
his escape. Therefore when the lady and her hus-
band came into the room, where the dog lay
dreamily before the porcelain stove, he made no
attempt to move; it was only when the serving
of coffee brought with it some slight interruption,
that he took occasion to slouch out of the room,



with an air as of accident, and with the secret de-
termination never to return.
When once outside the place called Belle Vue,"
Leo fell into a steady trot. Down the road, through
the tunnel of cavernous rock, along the wooden
bridge, swung from precipice to precipice above
waters thundering and boiling, he went; for is it
not true, "Over fords that are deepest, love will
still find the way"? Through pine forests where
the wind blew piercingly, over long deserted roads,
down, ever down, into the valley lands where Nat-
ure looked kindlier than on the heights he had left.
At last, thoroughly tired out, under the archway
of an old town, Leo rested. With sunrise all was
astir. The people in the restaurants took down
their shutters, from church towers rang a single
bell for prayer. The women appeared in groups
of two and three, under shelter of the roofed
market-place, while a few workmen were already
seated, sipping coffee beneath the ash-trees whose
scarlet berries told of coming winter; but to-day
it was St. Martin's summer in which those good
folk were rejoicing.
Leo, who but a few days since had turned away
in scorn from the proffered kindness of Madame
Vizinard, was now driven to condescend to the man-
ners of ordinary dogs; being very hungry, he, the
proud St. Bernard, accepted alms in shape of bread
and meat!
All regular carriages had ceased to run between
these ..r! ;n Swiss towns, since the show began to
show itself low down on the mountains; only now
and again a stray voiture de retour took its belated
journey by the road leading to the French frontier.
It was one ofthese carriages that r. Ik.:. t while
Leo took his humiliating meal. No time was to be
lost. Up he got and trotted after the strangers
with as unconcerned an air as if he had al-

dressed him in a patronizing tone, he turned his
head away as if he and they were only accident-
ally following the same route, and his real object
of interest was the fine scenery through which they
passed. Notwithstanding this cynical reserve on his
part, Leo never failed to appear with the carriage
at each halt of the two-days' journey, when refresh-
ment was in question. On passing the French
frontier, however, he was constrained-magnolia
flowers compelling him- to part with these late-
found friends. Alone and weary, past battlemented
towns, castles and bishops' palaces, broad pasture
lands, where dappled cows grazed luxuriously,
prosperous villages whence the people flocked
to the grape-gathering, where stood the quiet oxen
loaded with vats of rich juice,- past all these plod-
ders, love leading him, Leo the faithful reached a
noisy sea-port. There was little elasticity in his
half-lame gait as he jog-trotted past, little pride in
the heart once so haughty; but affection increased
according to his devotion. Down the long rue with
its inviting shops, through arcades of the fish mar-
ket, past the quay where the people wrangled over
cheapened wares; steadily ever onward, dodging
between bales of goods, tram-trucks, and porters,
down the steamboat ladder, into the boat itself and
up to the feet of a lady who lay muffled in soft furs
and half asleep in the most sheltered part of the
deck, her thin hands toying with a silver heart that
hung at her girdle.
"Not you, Leo? It can not be! Who brought
you here ? Did you know how ill your friend has
been since we p-a' 1:.] You faithful dog I" And
accepting his wild expressions of joy, the lady ca-
ressed him in return. Then taking -the silver chain
from her side, she fastened it round Leo's neck, say-
ing, He'should wear the silver heart, who is faith-
ful as St. Bernard! "

ways been a member of the company; /- '- And Leo has never again parted
but when one of these travelers ad- from his lady.

--< .^-' '.... j-
-, ..- r- 4- --

1 .'' -. ._ l_.: -- : .


~- r4

LA..... *" rli

if 7r m IBE IilT'A I
f r1 ipJi ...i .L I,
A i._ li. -; ,- ." ....1 1 E .. .

L inm "-t har :.- -Ma,.iv~t ".
1Rat ii. i: ma.- n i.le i ld iI

WNl t il3e U m tlk B wmf htt t(uibe statE
" .-. m ... I A ".|. -
FIitt afi t ciite (iaw a i earl wLi

I Ni Vt-e l- 21
(,h ni ..d hi b n 1 ITH e ..Stl .1

lrui'hc cIcI. -.hjua he 'V ni
Fx I tfinruS i, ,ii ..m. .
,'.: ,1Il .......il i ItAf t, lr I
m wlhar edhil ran .. ...... 1 _r.. .
ii ,,!'. ,, dnHIni'hi r I ..; ... ,,
A Iral tllthii ttlflrh s .* 1 -i. .cr i

ii ..

' i v- .... -

If'* 'r i.*w **' ,* .* i I
,', -.. l _, ,



HAT- immortal school-boy was
he who first noticed the curi-
ous fact that all the large
rivers in his geography flowed
past the largest cities ?
Rivers may have this oblig-
ing peculiarity- but the va-
rious paths taken by total
eclipses of the sun across the earth's surface, are far
from following so desirable a precedent. Indeed,
it often seems as if things that happen in the sky
actually select the most out-of-the-way and inac-
cessible parts of the globe as the only points from
which they will deign to be seen.
The longest total eclipse ever observed with,
I believe, one exception -was that of 1883, May
6th, during which totality lasted for nearly five
minutes and a half. Its track was thousands of
miles in length, but lay almost wholly across the
Pacific Ocean. It touched land only on the out-
skirts of the Marquesas Islands -a barren reef
being the only point available for setting up instru-
Even these obstacles did not deter astronomers
from observing this fine eclipse, and the Caroline
Island, six miles long by one mile wide, has be-
come famous in scientific annals.
Alaska, Labrador, the summit of Pike's Peak -
are only a few of the points to which observers and
instruments have been transported to view solar
Transits of Venus, it is true, are visible -over
much larger areas than eclipses traverse, but as-
tronomers go far apart from one another to observe
them, in order that Venus shall be seen projected
upon portions of the sun's disk as widely separated
as possible. Then, after years of calculation, the
distance of the sun from the earth can be found.
But this seeming coyness of eclipses and other
astronomical phenomena, confers one advantage in
the fact that while astronomers are scouring the
earth for good observing positions, they are able
to see many strange places which the average
tourist would never think of visiting merely for
The path of an eclipse may be hundreds, or even
thousands, of miles long, but it is only about one
hundred miles wide usually; and any astronomer
who wishes to get good observations of the total
eclipse must place himself very nearly in the mid-

die of this path. So there is a long line of points
from which the sun is seen to be exactly covered
by the moon,- not from all at the same time, but
from one after another, as the moon's shadow
trails along the surface of the earth.
The progress or track of a total eclipse is, in
general, from west to east. That of August, 1887,
in which totality lasted between three and four
minutes, lay at first slightly north of east.
Beginning near Berlin early in the morning,
crossing the Russian Empire and the Ural Mount-
ains, it turned somewhat to the south, passing lat-
erally through Siberia and over Lake Baikal. Then,
veering more to the south, it left the Asiatic con-
tinent at Mantchooria, and after crossing the Sea
and main island of Japan, it ended several hun-
dred miles out in the Pacific Ocean, about two
hours and a half of absolute time after beginning
in Berlin.
The only parties sent out from the United
States to observe this eclipse, were in charge of
Professor Charles A. Young, of Princeton, and
of Professor David P. Todd, of Amherst. Pro-
fessor Young went to Russia, near the beginning
of the eclipse track; Professor Todd started in the
opposite direction for Japan, to be near its termi-
The bright envelope of light which surrounds
the darkened body of the sun during an eclipse is
called the corona. If you look at the full moon
through a window-screen, you will see rays of scat-
tered light which look somewhat as the corona
does--only they appear longer and much more
regular than the real corona, which looks very dif-
ferent during different eclipses.
The corona is very faint, and it can never be
seen, except while the moon hides the sun; and
so astronomers have had only a small amount of
time to study it. They are much puzzled to ac-
count for all that they see; but they have found a
substance in it which is not known to exist on the
earth, and which they have therefore agreed to call
" coronium."
The corona is brightest near the edge of the sun,
and this part of it may be a sort of atmosphere of
the sun. The streamers or wisps of light, extend-
ing outward irregularly in almost every direction,
are sometimes millions of miles in length, and seem
to be due to a great variety of causes, possibly
magnetic and electrical in part; but it seems cer-


tain that much of this light is reflected from the
cloud of small bodies called meteors, which sur-
round the sun.
Astronomers do not know whether this varies
rapidly from hour to hour. And in addition to its
greater duration than usual, this eclipse was.a very
favorable one for deciding this question by a com-
parison of photographs of the corona, taken about
two hours apart.
Also, as the track lay across civilized countries,
instead of barren water spaces, or through bar-
barous settlements, the telegraph
was immediately available, whereby -
one astronomer could communicate
at once with the other, in case any- -
ihing of peculiar interest occurred.
The party for Japan was to start
early in June, and on the 31st of
May, 1887, the first train had gone
straight through from Montreal
to Vancouver, on the Canadian
Pacific line. No steamer had yet
sailed for China and Japan from
that far-away and almost unknown
port, but the pioneer voyage was
to be begun on June 20th, by the
old steamer "Abyssinia." So we
bought the first tickets which were
sold from Boston to Yokohama by
that route, and indeed sailed on this
first steamer.
I must stop by the way long
enough to speak of the scenery
through which this railroad runs. '
It is interesting all the way, but the ..:
crowning delight of the journey
comes during the last day or two
in British Columbia-after the
Rocky Mountains are reached.
Four ranges are crossed in imme- ,-
diate succession,--the Rocky, Sel-
kirk, Gold, and Cascade ranges,- -.
while snow-covered peaks, enor-
mous glaciers, mountain torrents A MOUNTAIN v
leaping hundreds of feet at one (BY PERASSIO
bound and dissipating in spray long before they
can reach the valley below, canions of marvelous
wildness and magnificence, make all those hours
one bewildering series of grand and beautiful
pictures. Switzerland itself can scarcely offer a
Through a noble ravine, unromantically known
as The Kicking-Horse Pass," the terrible power
of fire had made havoc with acres of hemlock forest,
even to the tops of some of the nearer mountains,
where human foot has never trod. Its fatal breath
had turned miles of greenery into a melancholy

black waste. Close at hand the charred bark had
peeled off the still upright trunks, leaving them
gloomily white a sinister grove without life or
After so many hours and miles of grandeur, it was
almost a relief to reach the little town of Yale at
the head of navigation on the Fraser, after passing
through its magnificent cation. Here the river
spreads out peacefully after its tumultuous descent
through the mountains; and beyond this fore-
ground comes the ethereal gleam of Mt. Baker -

- -.-- -

*1 -

-- -

snow-covered, and far away in Washington Terri-
tory. The vegetation through this region is almost
rank in its luxuriance. Thickets of wild-roses,
beds of purple lupine, solid masses of scarlet
painted-cups," and of nodding yellow lilies, lined
the track.
The little city of Vancouver is now only about
three years old. But there are six or eight thou-
sand inhabitants, and much business and traffic.
The "Abyssinia" started promptly, and we steamed
out into a very infrequently-crossed portion of the
Pacific Ocean. After gales, fog, and cold, we an-


-~ ~ -" .4- -



chored fifteen days later in the beautiful harbor of
Of the beginning of our experience in the Land
of the Rising Sun," I have only space to say that
it seemed more like an animated fan or screen than
anything real. Riding injinriki-shas was endlessly
entertaining, and I am obliged to confess that pity
for the coolies who draw them does not extend far
beyond the first day. These men are so eager for
custom, and they run along in a sort of dog-trot
apparently so easy and tireless, that the rider soon
ceases to feel any troublesome compunctions, and
heartily enjoys the novel conveyance.
After consulting many officials and meteorologi-
cal records as to the location most likely to prove
clear on the 19th of August, Professor Todd finally
selected Shirakawa, a city more than a hundred
miles from Tokio, near the center of the path
where the eclipse would be total. To this city a
railroad had just been completed. All the pleas-
ant journey there, was picturesque with thatched

cottages,-many of the roofs gay with growing
flowers,-rice-fields, ponds full of creamy lotus-
blossoms, and cranes stalking about in marshes,
or flying, as if for decorative effect, through the
sunny air.
Upon our arrival we found ourselves objects of
intense interest.
Our train was the first for passengers which went
through to the little city, and the crowd at the
station followed us all the way to the native hotel
which became our first headquarters. Seated in
a circle on the straw-matted floor, with our shoes
left at the entrance (where an eager assembly ex-
amined them), we enjoyed one of our first purely
Japanese meals. A vista of numerous rooms,
partly separated from each other by sliding paper-
screens, opened beyond us, in.lii' at last in a
cool, damp garden, full of flowers, stone lanterns,
and a fountain. Each of us was provided with a
tiny square table, about six inches high, upon
which was placed a lacquer bowl of strange sciuP


containing an omelet, the bowl for rice with chop-
sticks, and other articles not easily to be described
in words. Little maids, .:: ..1 like the well-
known trio of "Mikado" fame, served us smil-
ingly, and seemed surprised that our ability to eat
rice cased with the third bowlful. But until one
has become quite accustomed to the use of chop-
i eating with them is a rather laborious oper-
ation -particularly i 1 r I: : one's self to soup.
Professor Tc.. .: :: "._ i 7..,,r : -. :.
thi i .- .: ..- :i'.T. _- ,- .:, permission to set up
his instruments at the top of the old castle; and
the next day we visited the beautiful ruin. The
--J-.,._ had been burned in the revolution of
r368 ; but three tiers of stone embankments, sur-
rounded by a moat, rose picturesquely near the
city. As we strolled up the grassy path, with in-
sects buzzing and humming all about us, and the
--tR, sunshine ]:;Ar !lr.:it. over the grim

S -- t-t- .

jiwji -"
-*-"~ 6J~


sort of opposing element struggled for the mastery
-stoutly-repelled but ever-advancing modern
C. .- :.. hatred toward foreigners, noble desire for
the best ideas and civilization, Buddhism, Shinto-
worship and '_. ia in.i. ; while -.r i:'11 it all the
forces of 5" ..: and Mikado battled unto death.*
But out of this revolution, and the ideas which
.-.-., 1-..- ii came ;':; a.rid progress and "new
7 _:-:--." eager for knowledge and full of splendid,
f' : [-, n- ambition.
For three hundred years the old .r '.-l -.11-: have
looked down upon the town eighty feet below, and
upon the vivid green rice-fields, stretching away to
[.-.inr tri.... t.,,i. The moatflows darkly around,
i. ;i.i- -_ the sky and the massive masonry above.
A portion of it is overgrown with the magnificent
leaves and blossoms of the pink lotus; and yet
another part is now 1 -.r-. it.l rice-plantation.
:-':. "!1 gnarled pines are rooted here and

L---:-7_. : 24-:
---. 'i5 '-_ {1_' -- -_ =- _- .- _--_

._ 7--- --_----- -

%iTsacaa ma TISIS sscbvshsI*Ws f -lT~iBL(8,
sone- 1-. it was hard to imagine that only -1 .. and over the whole ruin run ivy and swing-
t'venty year before had been fought here a bloody ing festoons of white wild-roses.
-. as thislaststrorghold of -i .- ..-.; .-: Carpenters and coolies were soon at work set-
f fell before the Mikado's conquering -. the instruments and making the houses to
forces cover them; and on every clear night careful ob-
Bitter times wsre those stormy years, when every servations of stars were made with the transit in-
Sie Geat Jaym m Tu .SuC Sin e Kin t, m,' Sr. NihdvLs Pr Xw Tmber.


strument having some special attachments, which ure in relief, of a horse, appeared to be the only dis-
gave us our latitude, or distance from the earth's tinctive manufacture. The reeling of silk seemed
equator, as well as accurate local time. The lat- the chief occupation of the women. In nearly
ter was compared with the local time at the Ob- every house could be seen young girls plunging
Their hands into basins of hot
.-.. "water for the white cocoons
'' which floated about in the
....- :" . i steaming bath.
,.. Returning to the hotel one
S. morning, after a trip through
the town, I wished to pay my
kuruma-runner* the ten sen
which was the modest sum he
demanded for two hours of
Service; but I found nothing
smaller in my purse than one
yen. Theyen is the Japanese
dollar, worth at that time about
seventy-seven cents, and is
Composed of one hundred sen.
So our little maid ran out to
change it for me, coming back
in a few moments rather less
speedily, and laughing hearti-
aly. The reason was only too
soon apparent. She had
changed the paper yen all into
.I copper 8-rin pieces and it
takes ten rin to make one sen
The 8-tin piece is nearly two
inches long by one wide, and
has a square hole in the
center. The weight of 125
of them strung together on
stout twine can perhaps be im-
agined My limited stock of
Japanese forbade my inquir-
ing concisely whether she per-
petrated this pleasantry "on
purpose," or whether she was
indeed unable to get any
larger change which seemed
I to be the burden of her loqua-
cious explanation. However,
i. I disposed of as many as pos-
"THREE LITTLE MAIDS." sible to the coolie, and laid
the rest away for a financial
servatory in Tokio, which told us how far east we rainy day. These curious coins are seldom seen
were from Greenwich, the world's prime meridian. in the larger cities frequented by foreigners.
All these preliminaries, with many others, were nec- The Japanese inn was finally abandoned for the
essary to make available future observations of the tents on the castle, and during five weeks we
eclipse. camped out in a truly Bohemian fashion, very at-
In the mean time, a few excursions about the town tractive to those not burdened with pretentious
proved that there was little of interest in the shops. conventionality.
A heavy sort of porcelain, made not far away, which How our cook was able to provide us with din-
showed upon every piece either the outline or fig- ners of several courses from a combination of the
Kuruma is defined as carriage, or cart, or chariot. Jinriki-sha is a small two-wheeled cart drawn by a man. The words
are used interchangeably.





painfully deficient material to be found in the
town and the tinned" articles which we received
from San Francisco and England, through Yoko-
hama, was always a mystery. But he was a
Japanese and had resources of which we knew
not. It was always with a feeling of delightful
security that we approached our tent dining-room,
and Cook-san" never disappointed us. We did
make an effort toward freedom from condensed
milk, and engaged the one man in the town
known to own a cow to bring us fresh ckichi."
Several days passed, and he did not come. Inquir-
ies for a week brought out the information that
our milkman owned only "one piece cow," and he
could not supply us. His regrets were accom-
panied by a magnificent spray of tall white lilies.

have much silver in their composition, which may
account for their deep and wonderful sweetness.
Whether this be so or not, the bells make a pro-
found impression upon all sensitive or musical
organizations, heretofore accustomed to the more
discordant church-bells of a newer civilization.
And never did the lovely temple-bell in Shira-
kawa ring out so sadly and deliciously as one night
when a great fire laid waste a portion of the city.
Thirty or forty houses made a fine blaze for two or
three hours, and we watched it from the castle wall
with pity and interest. The crackling of the flames
as they licked up one little thatched roof after
another, was terribly audible; so, too, were the
helpless cries and shouts of the surrounding crowd
- while the red cinders were whirled far aloft,



The bells of Japan are among its loveliest pos-
sessions. One of the sweetest of them rang out
many times every day into the waiting air, in this
far-away little city. Its tone was intensely thrill-
ing and pathetic. The bells are not sounded by
a clapper within, but are struck from the outside
by a sort of wooden arm, or battering-ram. Being
withdrawn to the proper distance and released, it
strikes the bell once and the strokes are allowed
to succeed one another only with a dignified and
stately regularity. Tradition says the finest bells

and fell even around us. But through the confu-
sion and tumult, the calm bell rang out its indescrib-
ably beautiful note in quicker succession than
usual, but losing none of its dignity and sweetness,
for all the discordant sounds so near.
The music in Japan, however, is far from being
melodious. Nearly everything is in a minor key,
E-minor being apparently the favorite. It is all
equally chaotic and unintelligible to foreign ears,
from the weird songs of the workmen as they chant
in unison, to the elaborate pieces performed by



ladies upon the koto,* accompanied by the voice, mentally, waiting for the restful tonic which never
There being much yet to be done in Shirakawa upon comes.
the new railroad, gangs of twenty or thirty coolies The officials and other dignitaries of the city
were busy all day in heavy labor of all sorts. At and surrounding region were exceedingly attentive
their work they sang and shouted together upon and polite, sending presents continually, and doing
three notes, which at last became nearly unendur- many graceful things to make our stay agreeable.
able. I observed in many places the song or chant One evening several of these gentlemen paid us
of laborers, and this one unchanged succession of a visit, bringing with them three musicians and a
sounds was, I believe, peculiar to this particular dancing-girl.
region. I have written it out in notes as well as it The koto was not used on this occasion; the
can be so expressed--but there is a weird, nasal samisen, a smaller three-stringed instrument,
intonation which it is impossible to transcribe: played with an ivory spatula; and the kokyu, held
like a banjo, but played with a big bow like that
of the double-bass; and a flute, constituted their
equipment, accompanied by singing. The young
girl who danced for us was graceful and attractive;
-__ _- hher posturing, performances with a fan, and the
stamp of her bare little heels in a sort of rhythm
with the music were pretty and skillful. The
and so on, day in and day out. I think these three names of two or three of the pieces played for us
notes, sungthus, containedmoremelody, or "tune," show how largely nature and flowers enter into the
as children say, than anything else I heard in thought of the Japanese, "Harusame" (Spring
Japan. In some places the laborers ended inva- Shower); "Umenimo-Harus" (Spring Falls on
riably on the second of the scale--at others on Plum-blossoms); "Haru-hana" (Spring Flower).
the seventh, both of which actually wear one out, And flowers are everywhere in every tiny gar-
A 13-stringed harp, or zither, about six feet long, and played as it lies upon the floor, instead of being held upright.

i888.j TEN WEEKS. IN JAPAN. 113
den, often thickly blossoming in the roof-thatch,
and filling the meadows and roadsides. I once
saw an immense squash-vine, covered with its
yellow flowers, trained from the ground quite over
a little house, hiding it completely from passers in
the road. -_._
The shops and smaller houses in Shirakawa
were also very hospitable to swallows, whose nests .
frequently hung from the low ceilings just above '
our heads, and as we bargained for some bit of a-" ..
porcelain or lacquer, the birds would flutter in t
and out, perfectly fearless and at home. ]f .
Royal purple Canterbury-bells crowned the ,.1 t
castle walls; sun-tanned yellow lilies and clem- ,, i
atis disputed every thicket with the swinging
white roses, while the pink lotus reigned over I'
them all. Some of the neighboring ponds were i '
full of the tiny, scentless, white water-lily and the I :
rank yellow pond-lily, and moist places abounded
in small, feathery, white orchids. There was also
a very superb lobelia, almost exactly like our own
cardinal flower, except that its color was the
richest purple. All these beautiful things were
endlessly attractive to paint, and I spent many
hours in the entrance of my tent, at work on their
dainty curves and colors. ...
One of our boys brought up to me one morning


a superb group of lotus-flowers, buds, picturesque
seed-vessels, and leaves, in which each stem was
VOL carefullyy tied with a string just above where it had
been cut. They are thus kept fresh longer.
SY These regal flowers were at least six feet high,
N and I had no canvas large enough for them. At
last I thought of the minor, or straw rain-coats,"
several of which I had bought to serve as mats
about the tent. Taking a fresh one, I had it tacked
up before me at once, and upon that improvised
background I painted the queenly flowers and
their huge, surrounding leaves.
The greatest interest in these paintings seemed
to animate all the Japanese about the place. From
the white-robed police who guarded the castle en-
trances, to the coolies who brought water through
the day, all, at one time or another, would stop
and look on as I worked, so that I rarely painted
without an audience.
Amongthe water-carriers was one poor creature
who, from his entire lack of personal comeliness,
was noticeable even among his companions-
none of whom possessed physical graces to any
marked degree. His garments of dark-blue cot-
ton were older-- not to say fewer than those of
the rest, and he had a singularly retreating, ex-
HAIR-DRESSING. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.) pressionless chin, which was still further over-
VOL. XVI.- 8.




shadowed by the straw band which held upon
his head his queer little round hat. We wickedly
christened him the Missing Link"; and, truly,
no mortal seemed ever to embody that title so
fully. He was a picture of forlorn, hopeless pov-
erty and subjection as he toiled up the steep path,
bearing across his shoulders the yoke from each
end of which hung the wooden buckets of spark-
ling water. (Clear, pure, safe water was one of
our compensations at Shirakawa.)
And yet, this poor specimen of humanity, hardly
a man, began at once to show the most intense and
absorbing interest in each flower-painting. After
every trip with his buckets he would come to my
tent -timidly at first, then advancing nearer, as
I showed no displeasure. There he would stand,
watching eagerly, almost thirstily, until, remem-
bering his yoke, he would start away abruptly,
only to come panting up the hill again to see what
had been added in his absence.
During the two mid-day hours, when all the la-
borers rested and took their lunch, this coolie sat
in the shade of a particular bush near by, with his
little bowl of rice, often making excursions to my

tent, even if I were not still painting, to look
through the opening at the various studies pinned
around the sides. Often at such times he acted as
showman and general guide to the other work-
men -they standing in a circle about him as he
pointed out one thing after another. I watched
him on many a sultry noontide from the shade of
a large tree not far away, and I could see his poor
face fairly glow with enthusiasm as he talked to
his audience in a perfect whirl of Japanese.
I asked our interpreter one day what the man
was talking about.
"Oh!" said he with a slight shrug, "that's
only an eccentric coolie admiring your flowers, and
telling his friends how you did them and which he
likes best."
One morning this poor water-carrier came up to
me rather shyly with a great bunch of beautiful
wild-flowers in his hand, which, with a word or two,
he presented for okusan [madam] to paint."
I thanked him as well as my meager Japanese
permitted, and put the flowers in water, at which
he seemed gratified and went away. After that his
floral offerings were frequent, as well as his exhibi-


tions of the studies to others. But it seemed as if
the water-buckets grew daily heavier for him -
sometimes he would come up to the tents only once
or twice during the day, and I often saw him rest-
ing in the shade on the upward path.
"Coolie sick," replied one of my servants who
had mastered a few words of English, when I asked
about him. The last time I saw the poor Miss-
ing Link," he had toiled up with his buckets and a
splendid tangle of wild pea-vines, whose large pur-
ple clusters hung down richly from a mass of green.
These he brought to me, his face lighting up once
more as I thanked him, while he looked about at
the different pictures. Then the usual stolid heavi-
ness settled over his uncouth features, and he turned
away, going heavily down the grassy path, and
:round the corner of the old stone wall. He never
came back again.
One of my last excursions in the neighborhood
-was a pleasant jinriki-s/a ride of five miles to the
base of a high hill,-or mountain, as it might more
properly be called,-at the top of which was an
ancient Buddhist temple to the horse-headed
aiiwanon, Goddess of Mercy. Leaving our men
.wad kuruma below, we began the climb, which,
although steep, was very lovely, through sunny
woods full of flowers, past quaint little shrines,
,ith constant views of a blue and hazy distance.

At the top we found the small temple of un-
painted wood, which, standing high up against
the sky, had long been a familiar landmark from
the castle. It was richly carved, and weather-
stained to a silvery gray color. Within, the orna-
ments were rather cheap and uninteresting, being
chiefly pictures of horses in every imaginable
attitude some fully painted, others merely
sketched in outline on pine boards. Outside, in
a shrine, stood a life-sized figure of a horse. Stone
lanterns, partly moss-grown, and a large bell
completed the visible equipment-all of which
was charmingly overshadowed by fine old Japa-
nese cedars, which grow to a great height.
The ministering priest at this lonely altar--a
man with a cleanly-shaved head and fine face-
approached us by a shady path, his thin robes of
black and green catching the welcome breeze.
My companion wished to purchase one of the
horse-pictures from the interior as a memento of
the temple, to which the priest at once consented,
seeming well pleased with the handful of coin
which he received for his complaisance.
When we reached the little town at the foot of
the mountain, on our homeward way, all the in-
habitants came out to see us -some offering
flowers, while an old lady presented us with hot
ears of roasted sweet-corn on a pretty tray, which




were very appetizing after our long walk. One
little boy ran to me, holding out a large locust,
somewhat like a katydid, which makes a most
unmelodious screaming, much to the edification
of its hearers. These little creatures can be
bought in cages for a few sen, and children often
keep them as pets.
Twilight fell during the homeward ride, and
each coolie lighted his little paper lantern as we
sped on into the early evening. Against the

V' .


yellow sky, flat-topped pines stood boldly outlined,
while nearer by we caught glimpses of many a
picturesque interior. In these little thatched
houses a square hole in the polished floor held a
few sticks burning brightly and casting a ruddy
light on the surrounding household group. A ket-
tle hung above the fire, and the brown faces and
limbs of the family, as well as the little china
bowls out of which they were all eating rice,
caught the flickering light as it danced in warm
tints about the poor little room.
The children, who frequently stood in groups to
The children, who frequently stood in groups to

examine us in our various trips, had an expression
of absorbing interest upon their faces, such as they
might have worn on seeing some strange but not
unamiable animal. As long as we appeared not
to notice their gaze this expression continued. But
the instant we smiled or showed any conscious-
ness of their nearness, the faces looked startled,
smiles disappeared, while curiosity and wide-eyed
surprise, not unmixed with apprehension, filled
their features. It was much as if a toy elephant
should unexpectedly nod or speak.
As the time for the eclipse drew near,
the number of visitors to the castle
greatly increased, and the prep-
arations, extended through
long weeks, received their
final touches. At last
the 19th of August
.0 tdawned,-" the great,
the important day,"
S-- ushered in with
the clearest of skies
and the most ra-
il diant sunbeams.
t 'Twenty or thirty of
U, Bthe guards, in snowy
i, dresses,watched
I i i the castle and all its
entrances, and none
except the specially
invited guests were
admitted. The in-
struments were care-
fully adjusted for in-
stant use, and, in
spite of the torrid
heat, we were all
astir with eager an-
q ticipation. The guests
f quietly gathered in the
open space below the instru-
ments, and a subdued hum of
pleasant conversation filled the hot
noontide. The eclipse was to begin at
thirty-seven minutes after two o'clock. About
an hour before this, a delicate little white cloud
floated up toward the zenith and spread very
quietly over the bright, blue sky, until even
the visitors began to look upward, with some
fear lest the afternoon might be only partly
clear after all. And that little white cloud not
only grew into great size itself, but it was
joined by other and darker ones from all direc-
tions, which, as they seemed to gain confidence
from numbers and blackness, soon shut out the
sun completely and spread consternation over
every face around us. The beginning of the


eclipse was not seen at all, but we caught a few
glimpses of the sun afterward -a gradually nar-
rowing crescent.
As it became apparent that my part of the work -
which was to draw the filmy, outermost streamers
of the corona could
not be done, I left my
appointed station and
hastened to the upper
castle wall. Here,
standing near the in-
struments, I watched
the strange landscape .:'-
under its gray shroud.I -
Even inanimate things -
seem endowed at times
with a terrible life of
their own, and this de- .
liberate, slow-moving -
pall of cloud seemed a
malignant power, not I A
to be evaded. At the .
instant of totality a
darkness and silence -
like that of death fell ..'
upon the castle and
the town and all the
world around.
Not a word was- '
spoken: the very air NEAR VIEW OF C

about us was motionless, as if all nature were in
sympathy with our suspense. The useless instru-
ments outlined their fantastic shapes dimly against
the massing clouds, and a weird chill fell upon the
earth. Darker and still darker it grew. Every trace



of color fled from the world. Cold, dull ashen-gray
covered the face of nature; and a low rumble
of thunder muttered ominously on the horizon.
Even at that supreme moment my thoughts
flew backward over the eight thousand miles of
land and stormy ocean already traveled, the
ton of telescopes brought with such care, the
weeks of patient waiting at the old castle,-all
that long journey and those great preparations for
just these three minutes of precious time, which
were now slipping away so fast.-And already
they were gone One sharp, brilliant ray of sun-
shine flashed down upon us. Totality was over-
and lost! This tiny rift in the clouds showed

the slender edge of the sun for a second and was
gone. And a profound sigh, as of great nervous
tension relieved, came up from the crowd below.
The calamity was too great to be measured at
once, and it was some minutes before we cared
to speak. We had trusted Nature, and she had
failed us, and our sense of helplessness was over-
Every astronomical student now knows how the
track of this ill-fated eclipse was followed by cloud-
all along its course, and how totality and th<
wished-for corona were hidden by clouds front
nearly all the eager eyes and waiting instruments
through its entire length. But an astronomer must



- __ i.-,- ." .-_._~-_.-& "--------- -i-----
'i --~ ~~~~~ --7._-..-. -,. .--~-

--.- .- .----- .-
F__ --A-- THE _MO
iiN-~-- I--- ... ... .

be philosophic; and our astronomer nobly dis-
played this quality.
And so, .- J..]u m our visitors left us, and the
sound of demolishing and packing was heard on
the hill. The tents were folded, and the party
I stayed for a few days at lovely Nikko, of
which h the Japanese proverb says, "Let no one
vho has not seen Nikko pronounce the word beau-
tiful." Here are the tombs of lyeyasu, the first
*/hogin and founder of Yeddo, and of lyemitsu,
itJh innumerable temples, mountains, springs,
;nd torrents, and a beauty and verdure of foliage
lhnost beyond description. Leading to it from
the railway station at Ulsuinwmiya is an avenue
tventy-five miles long, shadowed all the way by
evergreens, through whose interlacing boughs,
more than one hundred feet above, the sun-
beams can scarcely penetrate to the traveler,
rolling easily along in his jinriki-sha. This
avenue is a portion of the road by which the old
dinmios, or nobles, used to make their -.. .'.. _- /s
once a year to N'.ii- .. and was built for them
hundreds of years ago.

As Professor Todd was to make another expe-
dition for astronomical observation to the summit
of Fuji-san., or Fuji-yama, the great sacred mount-
ain, a time only long enough for necessary prep-
aration was now spent in Tokio. But during those
few days I saw many interesting things, among
others a place where the rich and heavy wall-
papers for which Japan is famous were made.
The thick paper has the design stamped upon it
in relief while it is yet white. Over this are laid
by hand and patted firmly down, small sheets of
silver foil. When a certain length has been cov-
ered with the shining leaf, it is taken to another
room and overlaid with transparent yellow varnish,
which makes it look like bright, rich gold. If the
background is to be a different color from the design
a perforated pattern exactly covering the design is
laid over it. Upon this the paint is dabbed with
brushes by young girls standing at a long table. The
figures being protected, as I have said, the color
reaches only the background, and the gold leaves or
flowers or butterflies then stand out clearly upon
dark red or other color. In a further room more
young girls were filling up rough edges of the out-


line with their brushes dipped in the background
color. When the paint is dry, another coat of
the clear but most ill-smelling varnish is added,
and the whole hung up to harden. Many of the
designs were very rich and decorative, and I was
interested in seeing several with which I had be-
come familiar through Japanese papers imported
into America, and in observing the difference as
to price and length of roll here and at home.
After the wonderful trip to the top of Fuji--
which was an event for a life-time the remainder
of our visit in Japan was spent socially and delight-
fully in the capital and at Yokohama. But all too
soon our steamer sailed from that fascinating land.


IF I 'd been born across the seas,
In a little house of clean bamboo,
Among the flowering cherry-trees;-
If I 'd been fed on fish and rice,
The queerest nuts that ever grew,
And all the different sorts of teas;
If I 'd been used to a jinriki-sha,
And never seen a railroad car,
Perhaps it would n't seem so nice
To be a Japanese !

But Mary Jane does sound so plain,
Compared with Neo Ina Yan";
And such a place as Jones's Creek"
(That 's where I live and must remain)
Could not be found in all Japan !

After picking up somewhere in the gray wastes
of the Pacific Ocean the day which, as all young
students of geography will readily understand, we
had dropped at the 8Soth meridian in going over,
we found ourselves once more in Vancouver, which
seemed to have grown as with years since we had
been away.
The royal mountains were clothed in autumn
reds and yellows, and it was America! Even this
remote corner of British Columbia was home, and
we sped across its beauties and through all the
days thereafter, until the satisfaction of the gen-
eral home-coming became the bright particular
welcome which warms the heart.

Instead of Pike's or Skinner's Peak,"
Of Fuji-yama there they speak -
The Sacred Mountain by the seas.
How elegant geographies
Must be in Japanese !

We have such very common things,
Like pigs in pens, and coops of hens,
Round corner-stores that smell of cheese;
While they have storks, with spreading wings,
That live among the reedy fens.
Their girls have paper parasols
And painted fans, as well as dolls;
They wade in flowers to their knees,
And live a life of joyous ease,
The happy Japanese.




Yet Mamma would n't be the same
With beady eyes and funny name,
And might not care so much for me.
And come to think they never can
Have any Christmas in Japan !
They worship curiosities,

A.'- ---

Great metal idols, made by man
About the time the world began.
So, on the whole, I'd rather be
A little, plain American;-
An imitation, if you please,
Not truly Japanese.


one great question
which Albert Grim-
lund was debating
was fraught with un-
pleasant possibilities.
He could not go
home for the Christ-
L .r mas vacation, for his
father lived in Dront-
heim, which is so far
away from Christi-
ania, that it was scarcely worth while making the
journey for a mere two-weeks' holiday. Then,
on the other hand, he had an old great-aunt
who lived but a few miles from the city and
who, from conscientious motives, he feared, had
sent him an invitation to pass Christmas with
her. But he thought Aunt Elsbeth a very tedious
person. She had a dozen cats, talked of nothing
but sermons and lessons, and asked him occasion-
ally, with pleasant humor, whether he got many
whippings at school. She failed to comprehend
that a boy could not amuse himself forever by
looking at the pictures in the old family Bible,
holding yarn, and listening to oft-repeated stories,
which he knew by heart, concerning the doings
and sayings of his grandfather. Aunt Elsbeth,
after a previous experience with her nephew,
had come to regard boys as rather a reprehen-
sible kind of animal, who differed in many of
their ways from girls, and altogether to the boys'
Now, the prospect of being "caged" for two
weeks with this estimable lady was, as I said, not
at all pleasant to Albert. He was sixteen years
old, loved outdoor sports, and had no taste for cats.
His chief pride was his muscle, and no boy ever
made his acquaintance without being invited to
feel the size and hardness of his biceps. This was
a standing joke in the Latin-school, and Albert
was generally known among his companions as

"Biceps Grimlund. He was not very tall for hi!,
age, but broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with
something in his glance, his gait, and his manners
which showed that he had been born and bred
near the sea. He cultivated a weather-beaten com-
plexion, and was particularly proud when the skin
" peeled on his nose, which it usually did in the
summer-time during his visit to his home in the
extreme north. Like most blonde people, when sun-
burnt he was red, not brown; and this became a
source of great satisfaction, when he learned that
Lord Nelson had the same peculiarity. Albert's
favorite books were the sea romances of Captain
Marryat, whose "Peter Simple" and "Midship-
man Easy" he held to be the noblest products of
human genius. It was a bitter disappointment to
him that his father forbade his going to sea and
was educating him to be a "landlubber," which he
had been taught by his boy associates to regard as
the most contemptible thing on earth.
Two days before Christmas, Biceps Grimlund
was sitting in his room, looking gloomily out of the
window. He wished to postpone as long as possi-
ble his departure for Aunt Elsbeth's country-place,
for he foresaw that both he and she were doomed
to a surfeit of each other's company during the
coming fortnight. At last he heaved a deep
sigh and languidly began to pack his trunk. He
had just disposed the dear Marryat books on top
of his starched shirts when he heard rapid foot-
steps on the stairs, and the next moment the door
burst open, and his classmate Ralph Hoyer rushed
breathlessly into the room.
"Biceps," he cried, "look at this! Here is
a letter from my father, and he tells me to invite
one of my classmates to come home with me for
the vacation. Will you come ? Oh, we shall have
grand times, I tell you! No end of fun! "
Albert, instead of answering, jumped up and
danced a jig on the floor, upsetting two chairs
and breaking the pitcher.


"Hurrah!" he cried, "I 'm your man. Shake
hands on it, Ralph You have saved me from
two weeks of cats and yarn and moping Give us
your paw! I never was so glad to see anybody in
all my life."
And to prove it, he seized Ralph by the shoulders,
gave him a vigorous whirl and forced him to join in
the dance.
"Now, stop your nonsense," Ralph protested,
laughing; "if you have so much strength to waste,
wait till we are home in Solheim, and you '11 have
opportunities to use it profitably."
Albert flung himself down on his old rep-
covered sofa. It seemed to have some internal
disorder, for its springs rattled and a vague mu-
sical twang indicated that something or other had
snapped. It had seen much maltreatment, that
poor old piece of furniture, and bore visible marks
of it. When, after various exhibitions of joy, their
boisterous delight had quieted down, both boys
began to discuss their plans for the vacation.
But I fear my groom may freeze, down there
in the street," Ralph ejaculated, cutting short the
discussion; "it is bitter cold, and he can't leave
the horses. Hurry up, now, old man, and I '11
help you pack."
It did not take them long to complete the pack-
ing. Albert sent a telegram to his father, asking
permission to accept Ralph's invitation, but, know-
ing well that the reply would be favorable, did not
think it necessary to wait for it. With the assist-
ance of his friend he now wrapped himself in two
overcoats, pulled a pair of thick woolen stockings
over the outside of his boots and a pair of fur-
lined top-boots outside of these, girded himself
with three long scarfs, and pulled his brown otter-
skin cap down over his ears. He was nearly as
broad as he was long when he had completed
these operations, and descended into the street
where the big double-sleigh (made in the shape
of a huge white swan) was awaiting them. They
now called at Ralph's lodgings, whence he presently
emerged in a similar Esquimau costume, wearing a
wolf-skin coat which left nothing visible except the
tip of his nose and the steam of his breath. Then
they started off merrily with jingling bells, and
waved a farewell toward many a window wherein
were friends and acquaintances. They felt in so
jolly a mood that they could not help shouting
their joy in the face of all the world, and crowing
over all poor wretches who were left to spend the
holidays in the city.


SOLHEIM was about twenty miles from the city,
and it was nine o'clock in the evening when the

boys arrived there. The moon was shining
brightly, and the milky way, with its myriad stars,
looked like a luminous mist across the vault of the
sky. The aurora borealis swept down from the
north with white and pink radiations which flushed
the dark blue sky for an instant, and vanished.
The earth was white, as far as the eye could
reach-splendidly, dazzlingly white. And out on
the white radiance rose the great dark pile of
masonry, called Solheim, with its tall chimneys
and dormer windows and old-fashioned gables.
Round about stood the great leafless maples and
chestnut-trees, sparkling with frost and stretching
their gaunt arms against the heavens. The two
horses, when they swung up before the great front
door, were so white with hoar-frost that they looked
shaggy like goats, and no one could tell what was
their original color. Their breath was blown in two
vapory columns from their nostrils and drifted
about their heads like steam about a locomotive.
The sleigh-bells had announced the arrival of
the guests, and a great shout of welcome was heard
from the hall of the house, which seemed alive with
grown-up people and children. Ralph jumped out
of the sleigh, embraced at random half a dozen peo-
ple, one of whom was his mother, kissed right and
left, protesting laughingly against being smothered
in affection, and finally managed to introduce his
friend, who for the moment was feeling a trifle
"Here, Father," he cried. "Biceps, this is my
father; and, Father, this is my Biceps- "
"Why, what stuff you are talking, boy," his
father exclaimed. "How can this young fellow
be your biceps- "
Well, how can a man keep his senses in such
confusion ~ said the son of the house. This is
my friend and classmate, Albert Grimlund, alias
Biceps Grimlund, and the strongest man in the
whole school. Just feel his biceps, Mother, and
you '11 see."
No, I thank you. I '11 take your word for it,"
replied Mrs. Hoyer. Since I intend to treat him
as a friend of my son should be treated, I hope
he will not feel inclined to offer any proof of his
When, with the aid of the younger children,
the travelers had peeled off their various wraps
and overcoats, as an onion is peeled, they were
ushered into the old-fashioned sitting-room. In
one corner roared an enormous, many-storied, iron
stove. It had a picture in relief, on one side, of
Diana the Huntress, with her nymphs and baying
hounds. In the middle of the room stood a big table
and in the middle of the table a big lamp, about
which the entire family soon gathered. It was so
cosy and homelike that Albert, before he had been


half an hour in the room, felt gratefully the atmos-
phere of mutual affection which pervaded the
house. It amused him particularly to watch the
little girls, of whom there were six, and to observe
their profound admiration for their big brother.
Every now and then one of them, sidling up to him
while he sat talking, would cautiously touch his
ear or a curl of his hair; and if he deigned to take
any notice of her, offering her, perhaps, a per-
functory kiss, her pride and pleasure were charm-
ing to witness.
Presently the signal was given that supper was
ready, and various savory odors, which escaped,
whenever a door was opened, served to arouse
the anticipations of the boys to the highest pitch.
Now, if I did not have so much else to tell you, I
should stop here and describe that supper. There
were twenty-two people who sat down to it; but
that was nothing unusual at Solheim, for it was
a hospitable house, where every wayfarer was wel-
come, either to the table in the servants' hall or to
the master's table in the dining-room.


AT the stroke of ten, all the family arose, and
each in turn kissed the father and mother good-
night; whereupon Mr. Hoyer took the great lamp
from the table and mounted the stairs, followed
by his pack of noisy boys and girls. Albert and
Ralph found themselves, with four smaller Hoyers,
in an enormous low-ceiled room with many
windows. In three corners stood huge canopied
bedsteads, with flowered-chintz curtains and moun-
tainous eider-down coverings which swelled up to-
ward the ceiling. In the middle of the wall,
opposite the windows, a big iron stove, like the
one in the sitting-room (only that it was adorned
with a bunch of flowers, peaches, and grapes, and
not with Diana and her nymphs), was roaring
merrily, and sending a long red sheen from its
draught-hole across the floor.
Around the great warm stove the boys gathered
(for itwas positively Siberian in the region of the win-
dows), and while undressing played various pranks
upon each other, which created much merriment.
But the most laughter was provoked at the expense
of Finn Hoyer, a boy of fifteen, whose bare back his
brother insisted upon exhibiting to his guest; for it
was decorated with a fac-simile of the picture on
the stove, showing roses and luscious peaches and
grapes in red relief. Three years before, on Christ-
mas Eve, the boys had stood about the red-hot
stove, undressing for their bath, and Finn, who was
naked, had, in the general scrimmage to get first
into the bath-tub, been pushed against the glowing
iron, the ornamentation of which had been beauti-

fully burned upon his back. He had to be wrapped
in oil and cotton after that adventure, and he re-
covered in due time, but never quite relished the
distinction he had acquired by his pictorial skin.
It was long before Albert fell asleep; for the
cold kept up a continual fusillade, as of musketry,
during the entire night. The woodwork of the
walls snapped and cracked with loud reports; and
a little after midnight a servant came in and stuffed
the stove full of birch-wood, until it roared like an
angry lion. This roar finally lulled Albert to sleep,
in spite of the startling noises about him.
The next morning the boys were aroused at
seven o'clock by a servant who brought a tray with
the most fragrant coffee and hot rolls. It was in
honor of the guest that, in accordance with Norse
custom, this early meal was served; and all the
boys, carrying pillows and blankets, gathered on
Albert's and Ralph's bed and feasted right roy-
ally. So it seemed to them, at least; for any break
in-the ordinary routine, be it ever so slight, is an
event to the young. Then they had a pillow-fight,
thawed at the stove the water in the pitchers
(for it was frozen hard), and arrayed themselves to
descend and meet the family at the nine o'clock
breakfast. When this repast was at an end, the
question arose, how they were to entertain their
guest, and various plans were proposed. But to
all Ralph's propositions his mother interposed the
objection that it was too cold.
"Mother is right," said Mr. Hoyer; "it is so
cold that 'the chips jump on the hill-side.' You '11
have to be content with indoor sports to-day."
"But, Father, it is not more than twenty degrees
below zero," the boy demurred. "I am sure we
can stand that, if we keep in motion. I have been
out at thirty without losing either ears or nose."
He went to the window to observe the thermome-
ter; but the dim daylight scarcely penetrated the
fantastic frost-crystals which, like a splendid exotic
flora, covered the panes. Only at the upper cor-
ner, where the ice had commenced to thaw, a few
timid sunbeams were peeping in, making the lamp
upon the table seem pale and sickly. Whenever
the door to the hall was opened a white cloud of
vapor rolled in; and every one made haste to shut
the door, in order to save the precious heat. The
boys, being doomed to remain indoors, walked
about restlessly, felt each other's muscle, punched
each other, and sometimes, for want of better em-
ployment, teased the little girls. Mr. Hoyer, see-
ing how miserable they were, finally took pity on
them, and, after having thawed out a window-
pane sufficiently to see the thermometer outside,
gave his consent to a little expedition on sees*
down to the river.
And now boys, you ought to have seen them I

*Norwegian snow-shoes. See ST. NICHOLAS, Vol. X., p. 304.


Now there was life in them! You would scarcely
have dreamed that they were the same creatures
who, a moment ago, looked so listless and miser-
able. What rollicking laughter and fun, while
they bundled one another in scarfs, cardigan-jack-
ets, fur-lined top-boots, and overcoats !
"You had better take your guns along, boys,"
said the father, as they stormed out through the
front door; "you might strike a bevy of ptarmi-
gan, or a mountain-cock, over on the west side."
"I am going to take your rifle, if you '11 let
me," Ralph exclaimed. I have a fancy we
might strike bigger game than mountain-cock. I
should n't object to a wolf or two."
You are welcome to the rifle," said his father;
but I doubt whether you '11 find wolves on the
ice so early in the day."
Mr. Hoyer took the rifle from its case, exam-
ined it carefully, and handed it to Ralph. Albert,
who was a less experienced hunter than Ralph,
preferred a fowling-piece to the rifle; especially as
he had no expectation of shooting anything but
ptarmigan. Powder-horns, cartridges, and shot
were provided; and quite proudly the two friends
started off on their skees, gliding over the hard
crust of the snow, which, as the sun rose higher,
was oversown with thousands of glittering gems.
The boys looked like Esquimaux, with their heads
bundled up in scarfs, and nothing visible except
their eyes and a few hoary locks of hair which the
frost had silvered.


WHAT was that?" cried Albert, startled by a
sharp report which reverberated from the mount-
ains. They had penetrated the forest on the west
side, and ranged over the ice for an hour, in a
vain search for wolves.
Hush," said Ralph, excitedly; and after a
moment of intent listening he added, "I '11 be
drawn and quartered if it is n't poachers! "
How do you know?"
"These woods belong to Father, and no one
else has any right to hunt in them. He does n't
mind if a poor man kills a hare or two, or a brace
of ptarmigan; but these chaps are after elk; and
if the old gentleman gets on the scent of elk-
hunters, he has no more mercy than Beelzebub."
How can you know that they are after elk? "
No man is likely to go to the woods for small
game on a day like this. They think the dold
protects them from pursuit and capture."
What are you going to do about it?"
I am going to play a trick on them. You know
that the sheriff, whose duty it is to be on the look-
out for elk-poachers, would scarcely send out a posse

when the cold is so intense. Elk, you know, are be-
coming very scarce, and the law protects them. No
man is allowed to shoot more than one elk a year,
and that one on his own property. Now, you and
I will play deputy-sheriffs, and have those poachers
securely in the lock-up before night."
But suppose they fight ?"
"Then we'11 fight back."
Ralph was so aglow with joyous excitement at
the thought of this adventure, that Albert had not
the heart to throw cold water on his enthusiasm.
Moreover, he was afraid of being thought cow-
ardly by his friend if he offered objections. The
recollection of Midshipman Easy" and his dar-
ing pranks flashed through his brain, and he felt
an instant desire to rival the exploits of his favor-
ite hero. If only the enterprise had been on the
sea he would have been twice as happy, for the
land always seemed to him a prosy and inconven-
ient place for the exhibition of heroism.
"But, Ralph," he exclaimed, now more than
ready to bear his part in the expedition, 1 have
only shot in my gun. You can't shoot men with
"Shoot men! Are you crazy? Why, I don't
intend to shoot anybody. I only wish to capture
them. My rifle is a breech-loader and has six
cartridges. Besides, it has twice the range of
theirs (for there is n't another such rifle in all
Odalen), and by firing one shot over their heads I
can bring them to terms, don't you see ? "
Albert, to be frank, did not see it exactly; but
he thought it best to suppress his doubts. He
scented danger in the air, and the blood bounded
through his veins.
How do you expect to track them ? he asked,
"Skee-tracks in the snow can be seen by a
bat, born blind," answered Ralph, recklessly.
They were now climbing up the wooded slope
on the western side of the river. The crust of the
frozen snow was strong enough to bear them; and
as it was not glazed, but covered with an inch of
hoar-frost, it retained the imprint of their feet with
distinctness. They were obliged to carry their
skees, on account both of the steepness of the slope
and the density of the underbrush. Roads and
paths were invisible under the white pall of the snow,
and only the facility with which they could retrace
their steps saved them from the fear of going astray.
Through the vast forest a deathlike silence reigned;
and this silence was not made up of an infinity of
tiny sounds, like the silence of a summer day
when the crickets whirr in the tree-tops and the
bees drone in the clover-blossoms. No; this silence
was dead, chilling, terrible. The huge pine-trees
now and then dropped a load of snow on the


heads of the bold intruders, and it fell with a thud,
followed by a noiseless, glittering drizzle. As far
as their eyes could reach, the monotonous colonnade
of brown tree-trunks, rising out of the white waste,
extended in all directions. It reminded them of
the enchanted forest in Undine," through which
a man might ride forever without finding the end.
It was a great relief when, from time to time, they
met a squirrel out foraging for pine-cones or pick-
ing up a scanty living among the husks of last
year's hazel-nuts. He was lively in spite of the
weather, and the faint noises of his small activities
fell gratefully upon ears already appalled by the
awful silence. Occasionally they scared up a
brace of grouse that seemed half benumbed, and
hopped about in a melancholy manner under the
pines, or a magpie, drawing in its head and ruf-
fling up its feathers against the cold, until it looked
frowsy and disreputable.
"Biceps," whispered Ralph, who had suddenly
discovered something interesting in the snow, "do
you see that? "
Je-rusalem ejaculated Albert, with thought-
less delight, it is a hoof-track "
Hold your tongue, you blockhead," warned
his friend, too excited to be polite, "or you'll
spoil the whole business "
"But you asked me," protested Albert, in a
But I did n't shout, did I ?"
Again the report of a shot tore a great rent in
the wintry stillness and rang out with sharp rever-
We 've got them," said Ralph, examining the
lock of his rifle. That shot settles them."
If we don't look out, they may get us instead,"
grumbled Albert, who was still offended.
Ralph stood peering into the underbrush, his
eyes as wild as those of an Indian, his nostrils di-
lated, and all his senses intensely awake. His
companion, who was wholly unskilled in wood-
craft, could see no cause for his agitation, and
feared that he was yet angry. He did not detect
the evidences of large game in the immediate
neighborhood. He did not see, by the bend of
the broken twigs and the small tufts of hair on the
briar-bush, that an elk had pushed through that
very copse within a few minutes; nor did he sniff
the gamy odor with which the large beast had
charged the air. In obedience to his friend's ges-
ture, he flung himself down on hands and knees
and cautiously crept after him through the thicket.
He now saw without difficulty a place where the
elk had broken through the snow crust, and he
could also detect a certain aimless bewilderment in
the tracks, owing, no doubt, to the shot and the
animal's perception of danger on two sides.

Scarcely had he crawled twenty feet when he was
startled by a noise of breaking branches, and be-
fore he had time to cock his gun, he saw an enor-
mous bull-elk tearing through the underbrush,
blowing two columns of steam from his nostrils,
and steering straight toward them. At the same
instant Ralph's rifle blazed away, and the splendid
beast, rearing on its hind legs, gave a wild snort,
plunged forward and rolled on its side in the snow.
Quick as a flash, the young hunter had drawn his
knife and, in accordance with the laws of the
chase, had driven it into the breast of the dying
animal. But the glance from the dying eyes,-
that glance, of which every elk-hunter can tell a
moving tale,-pierced the boy to the very heart
It was such a touching, appealing, imploring
glance, so soft, and gentle, and unresentful.
"Why did you harm me," it seemed to say,
"who never harmed any living thing--who claimed
only the right to live my frugal life in the forest,
digging up the frozen mosses under the snow,
which no mortal creature except myself can eat? "
The sanguinary instinct -the fever for killing
which every boy inherits from savage ancestors -
had left Ralph, before he had pulled the knife from
the bleeding wound. A miserable feeling of guilt
stole over him. He never had shot an elk before;
and his father, who was anxious to preserve the
noble beasts from destruction, had not availed him-
self of his right to kill one for many years. Ralph
had, indeed, many a time hunted rabbits, hares,
and mountain-cock, and capercailzie. But they
had never destroyed his pleasure by arousing pity
for their deaths; and he had always regarded him-
self as being proof against sentimental emotions.
Look here, Biceps," he said, flinging the knife
into the snow, I wish I had n't killed that bull."
I thought we were hunting for poachers," an-
swered Albert dubiously; and now we have been
poaching ourselves."
"By Jiminy! So we have; and I never once
thought of it," cried the valiant hunter. I am
.afraid we are off my father's preserves, too. It is
well the deputy-sheriffs are not abroad, or we might
find ourselves decorated with iron bracelets before
But what did you do it for ?"
"Well, I can't tell. It's in the blood, I guess.
The moment I saw the track and caught the wild
smell, I forgot all about the poachers, and started
on the scent like a hound."
The two boys stood for some minutes looking at
the dead animal, not with savage exultation, but
with a dull regret. The blood which was gushing
from the wound in the breast froze in a solid lump
the very moment it touched the snow, although
the cold had greatly moderated since the morning.



"I suppose we '11 have to skin the fellow,'
remarked Ralph, lugubriously; "it won't do to
leave that fine carcass for the wolves to celebrate
Christmas with."
"All right," Albert answered, I am not much
of a hand at skinning, but I '11 do the best I can."
They fell to work rather reluctantly at the un-
wonted task, but had not proceeded far, when they

that '11 curdle the marrow of your bones with
Thanks," replied the admirer of Midship-
man Easy, striking a reckless naval attitude.
" The marrow of my bones is not so easily curdled.
I 've been on a whaling voyage, which is more than
you have."
Ralph was about to vindicate his dignity by re-

r Vi
A^ 1W'
4y ,/ // Iin i- 'i= =i


perceived that they had a full day's job before
I 've no talent for the butcher's trade," Ralph
exclaimed in disgust, dropping his knife into the
snow. "There's no help for it, Biceps, we'll
have to bury the carcass, pile some logs on the top
of it, and send a horse to drag it home to-morrow.
If it were not Christmas Eve to-night we might
take a couple of men along and shoot a dozen
wolves or more. For there is sure to be pande-
monium here before long, and a concert in G-flat

ferring to his own valiant exploits, when suddenly
his keen eyes detected a slight motion in the un-
derbrush on the slope below.
"Biceps," he said, with forced composure,
"those poachers are tracking us."
What do you mean? asked Albert, in vague
Do you see the top of that young birch
waving ? "
Well, what of that?"
Wait and see. It's no good trying to escape.


They can easily overtake us. The snow is the
worst tell-tale under the sun."
But why should we wish to escape ? I thought
we were going to catch them."
So we were; but that was before we turned
poachers ourselves. Now those fellows will turn
the tables on us take us to the sheriff and col-
lect half the fine, which is fifty dollars, as in-
Je-rusalem! cried Biceps, is n't it a beauti-
ful scrape we 've put ourselves into ? "
Rather," responded his friend, coolly.
"But why meekly allow ourselves to be cap-
tured? Why not defend ourselves ?"
My dear Biceps, you don't know what you are
talking about. Those fellows don't mind putting
a bullet into you, if you run. Now, I 'd rather pay
fifty dollars any day, than to shoot a man even in
But they have killed elk, too. We heard them
shoot twice. Suppose we play the same game on
them that they intend to play on us. We can
play informers, too. Then we '11 at least be quits."
"Biceps, you are a brick! That's a capital
idea! Then let us start for the sheriff's; and if we
get there first, we '11 inform both on ourselves and
on them. That 'l cancel the fine. Quick, now! "
No persuasions were needed to make Albert
bestir himself. He leaped toward his skees, and
following his friend, who was a few rods ahead
of him, started down the slope in a zigzag line,
cautiously steering his way among the tree trunks.
The boys had taken their departure none too
soon; for they were scarcely five hundred yards
down the declivity, when they heard behind them
loud exclamations and oaths. Evidently the poach-
ers had stopped to roll some logs (which were
lying close by) over the carcass, probably mean-
ing to appropriate it; and this gave the boys an
advantage of which they were in great need.
After a few moments they espied an open clear-
ing, which sloped steeply down toward the river.
Toward this Ralph had been directing his course;
for although it was a venturesome undertaking to
slide down so steep and rugged a hill, he was
determined rather to break his neck than lower
his pride, or become the laughing-stock of the
One more tack through alder copse and juni-
per jungle,-hard indeed, and :-:i iIl-, vexa-
tious,-and he saw with -.1.iii the great open
slope, covered with an unbroken surface of glitter-
ing snow. The sun (which at midwinter is but a
few hours above the horizon) had set; and the stars
were flashing forth with dazzling brilliancy. Ralph
stopped, as he reached the clearing, to give Biceps
an opportunity to overtake him; for Biceps, like

all marine animals, moved with less dexterity on
the dry land.
"Ralph," he whispered breathlessly, as he
pushed himself up to his companion with a vigor-
ous thrust of his skee-staff, "there are two awful
chaps close behind us. I distinctly heard them
Fiddlesticks," said Ralph; "now let us see
what you are made of! Don't take my track, or
you may impale me like a roast on a spit. Now,
ready one, two, three "
Hold on there, or I shoot," yelled a hoarse
voice from out of the underbrush; but it was
too late; for at the same instant the two boys
slid out over the steep slope, and, wrapped in a
whirl of loose snow, were scudding at a dizzying
speed down the precipitous hillside. Thump,
thump, thump, they went, where hidden wood-
piles or fences obstructed their path, and out they
shot into space, but each time came down firmly
on their feet, and dashed ahead with undiminished
ardor. Their calves ached, the cold air whistled
in their ears, and their eyelids became stiff and
their sight half obscured with the hoar-frost tha-
fringed their lashes. But downward they sped,
keeping their balance with wonderful skill, untit
they reached the gentler slope which formed the
banks of the great river. Then for the first time
Ralph had an opportunity to look behind him, and
he saw two moving whirls of snow darting down-
ward, not far from his own track. His heart beat
in his throat; for those fellows had both endurance
and skill, and he feared that he was no match for
them. But suddenly- he could have yelled with
delight--the foremost figure leaped into the air,
turned a tremendous somersault, and, coming
down on his head, broke through the crust of the
snow and vanished, while the skees started on an
independent journey down the hillside. He had
struck an exposed fence-rail which, abruptly check-
ing his speed, had sent him flying like a rocket.
The other poacher had barely time to change
his course, so as to avoid the snag; but he was
unable to stop and render assistance to his fallen
comrade. The boys, just as they were shooting
out upon the ice, saw by his motions that he was
hesitating whether or not he should give up the
chase. He used his staff as a brake, for a few
moments, so as to retard his speed; but discover-
ing, perhaps by the brightening starlight, that his
adversaries were not full-grown men, he took cour-
age, started forward again, and tried to make up
the ground he had lost. If he could but reach the
sheriff's house before the boys did, he could have
them arrested and collect the informer's fee, instead
of being himself arrested and fined as a poacher.
It was a prize worth racing for And, moreover,


there were two elks, worth
twenty-five dollars apiece,
buried in the snow under
logs. These also would be-
long to, the victor! The
poacher dashed ahead, strain-
ing every nerve, and reached
safely the foot of the steep
declivity. The boys were
now but a few hundred rods
headd of him.
"Hold on, there," he
yelled again, "or I shoot "
He was not within range,
but he thought he could
frighten the youngsters into
abandoning the race. The
sheriff's house was but a short
distance up the river. Its tall,
black chimneys could be seen
looming up against the starlit
lsy. There was no slope now
o accelerate their speed.
They had to peg away for
iear life, pushing themselves
forward with -their skee-
staves, laboring like plow-
Ih.rses, panting, snorting,
p aspiring. Ralph turned
his head. once more. The
i;oacher was gaining upon
them; there could be no
doubt of it. He was within
the range of Ralph's rifle;
and a sturdy fellow he was,
wiho seemed good fora couple
of miles yet. Should Ralph
send a bullet over his head
to frighten him? No; that
might give the poacher an
excuse for sending back a
bullet with a less innocent
purpose. Poor Biceps, he
was panting and puffing in
his heavy wraps like a small
steamboat He did not once
open his mouth to speak;
hut, exerting his vaunted
muscle to the utmost, kept
abreast of his friend, and
sometimes pushed a pace or
two ahead of him. But it
cost him a mighty effort!
And yet the poacher was
gaining upon them! They
could see the long broadside
of windows in the sheriff's
VOL. XVI.-9.



:'.'.. .




:S.i r





mansion, ablaze with Christmas candles. They
came nearer and nearer! The church-bells up
on the bend were ringing in the festival. Five
minutes more and they would be at their goal.
Five minutes more! Surely they had left
strength enough for that small space of time.
So had the poacher, probably! The question
was, which had the most. Then, with a short,
sharp resonance, followed by a long reverbera-
tion, a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past
Ralph's ear. It was the poacher who had broken
the peace. Ralph, his blood boiling with wrath,
came to a sudden stop, flung his rifle to his cheek
and cried, Drop that gun! "
The poacher, bearing down with all his might
on the skee-staff, checked his speed. In the mean
while Albert hurried on, seeing that the issue of
the race depended upon him.
Don't force me to hurt ye i shouted the
poacher, threateningly, to Ralph, taking aim once
"You can't," Ralph shouted back. "You
have n't another shot."
At that instant sounds of sleigh-bells and voices
were heard, and half a dozen people, startled by
the shot, were seen rushing out from the sheriff's
mansion. Among them were Mr. Bjornerud him-
self, the sheriff, with one of his deputies.
In the name of the Law, I command you to
cease," he cried, when he saw down on the ice the
two figures in menacing attitudes. But before he
could say another word, some one fell prostrate in
the road before him, gasping:
"We have shot an elk; so has that man down
on the ice. We give ourselves up."
Mr. Bjornerud, making no answer, leaped over
the prostrate figure, and, followed by the deputy,
dashed down upon the ice.
In the name of the Law he shouted again,
and both rifles were reluctantly lowered.
"I have shot an elk," cried Ralph, eagerly,
" and this man is a poacher. We heard him
I have killed an elk," screamed the poacher,
in the same moment, and so has this fellow."
The sheriff was too astonished to speak. Never
before, in his experience, had poachers raced for
dear life to give themselves into custody. He
feared that they were making sport of him; in
that case, however, he resolved to make them
suffer for their audacity.
You are my prisoners," he said, after a mo-
ment's hesitation. "Take them to the lock-up,
Olsen, and handcuff them securely," he added,
turning to his deputy.
There were now a dozen men-most of them
guests and attendants of the sheriff's household -

standing in a ring about Ralph and the poacher.
Albert, too, had scrambled to his feet and had
joined his comrade.
Will you permit me, Mr. Sheriff," said Ralph,
making the officer his politest bow, "to send a
message to my father, who is probably anxious
about us?"
And who is your father, young man ?" asked
the sheriff, not unkindly; I should think you
were doing him an ill-turn in taking to poaching
at your early age."
My father is Mr. Hoyer, of Solheim," said the
boy, not without some pride in the announcement.
"What-you rascal, you! Are you trying to
play pranks on an old man?" cried the officer
of the law, grasping Ralph cordially by the hand.
" You 've grown to be quite a man, since I saw you
last. Pardon me for not recognizing the son of an
old neighbor."
Allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr.
Biceps I mean, Mr. Albert Grimlund."
Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Biceps
Albert; and now you both must come and eat
the Christmas porridge with us. I '11 send a mes-
senger to Mr. Hoyer without delay."
The sheriff, in a jolly mood, and happy to have
added to the number of his Christmas guests, took
each of the two young men by the arm, as if he were
going to arrest them, and conducted them through
the spacious front hall into a large cosy room,
where, having divested themselves of their wraps,
they told the story of their adventure.
"But, my dear sir," Mr. Bjornerud exclaimed,
" I don't see how you managed to go beyond your
father's preserves. You know he bought of me
the whole forest tract, adjoining his own on the
south, about three months ago. So you were per-
fectly within your rights; for your father has n't
killed an elk on his land for ten years."
If that is the case, Mr. Sheriff," said Ralph,
"I must beg of you to release the poor fellow who
chased us. I don't wish any informer's fee, nor
have I any desire to get him into trouble."
I am sorry to say I can't accommodate you,"
Bjornerud replied. "This man is a notorious
poacher and trespasser, whom my deputies have
long been tracking in vain. Now I have him, I
shall keep him. There 's no elk safe in Odalen so
long as that rascal is at large."
That may be; but I shall then turn my inform-
er's fee over to him, which will reduce his fine from
fifty dollars to twenty-five dollars."
To encourage him to continue poaching?"
"Well, I confess I have a little more sympa-
thy with poachers, since we came so near being
poachers ourselves. It was only an accident that
saved us "


(A Little Rhymed Story.)


I'E wind was blowing over the moors,
And the sun shone bright upon heather and
O the grave-stones hoary and gray with age
A\ 'ich stand about Haworth vicarage,
lid it streamed through a window in.

T'I :re, by herself, in a lonely room -
A lonely room which once held three -
Sat a woman at work with a busy pen,
'T ,was the woman all England praised just then
Iut what for its praise cared she?

Fame cannot dazzle or flattery charm
One who goes lonely day by day
On the lonely moors, where the plovers cry,
And the sobbing wind as it hurries by
las no comforting word to say.

So, famous and lonely and sad she sat,
And steadily wrote the morning through;
Then, at stroke of twelve, laid her task aside
And out to the kitchen swiftly hied.
Now what was she going to do ?

Why, Tabby, the servant, was "past her work,"
And her eyes had failed as her strength ran low,
And the toils, once easy, had one by one
Become too hard, or were left half-done
By the aged hands and slow.

So, every day, without saying a word,
Her famous mistress laid down the pen,
Re-kneaded the bread, or silently stole
The potatoes away in their wooden bowl,
And pared them all over again.

She did not say, as she might have done,
" The less to the larger must give way,
These things are little, while I am great;
And the world will not always stand and wait
For the words that I have to say."

No; the clever fingers that wrought so well,
And the eyes that could pierce to the heart's
She lent to the humble task and small;
Nor counted the time as lost at all,
So Tabby- were but content !

Ah, genius burns like a blazing star,
And Fame has an honeyed urn to fill;
But the good deed done for love, not fame,
Like the water-cup in the Master's name,
Is something more precious still.

VISIT Havre and ask where,
In her ship-yards on the Seine,
Lay the vessel, great and fair,
That King Francis builded there,
As the triumph of his reign.

Full three centuries have fled
Since La Grande Frangoise was framed.
Far and wide the wonder spread;
Paynim foes were filled with dread
Where in whispers she was named.

Day and night the hammer's stroke
Like a roll of war-drums sped;
From the caverned walls of oak
Tongues of ringing metal spoke,
Telling news of timbers wr.:l.

All the shipwrights in the land
To the royal builder came.
While he paced the busy sand. ,'
Seeing in that fabric grand
Certain promise of his fan:. 1

L' .- Th .t AE-'--,-
; i :- ''-' ;'^ *:

L -7


Six broad fathoms in its girth
Rose the tall, majestic mast:
Past all reckoning its worth;
Never yet upon the earth
Grew another spar so vast.

Let who will the king deride:
Lo his war-ship, good and staunch,
Utterly refused to glide
Into the expectant tide;
Proving more than he could launch.

Gone are all her strength and grace.
On the teeming river shore
Not a splinter marks the place;
Neither plank, nor bolt, as trace
OF rh.- ...:.I n1...u ship of yore.
i7i it'. perchance, some one may
--< find
A in this story, here retold,
i.r ter for a thoughtful mind,
-'. L. him profit as inclined -
-- Tale and moral both are
.S -- old.

S-"~- -i

4* U

; i'.s I
';' .,?.
7: ''~~
4% 4.'

-1.: ~~: ~ ~. -I



--', HE had not been brought up
S1 in America at all. She had
been born in France, in a
beautiful chateau, and she
had been born heiress to a
Ij great fortune; but neverthe-
less, just now, she felt as if
,] she was very poor indeed.
SAnd yet, her home was in
one of the most splendid houses in New York.
'- ie had a lovely suite of apartments of her own,
L'ough she was only eleven years old. She
li'.: her own carriage, and a saddle-horse, a train
oi teachers and attendants, and was regarded by
'-l the children of the neighborhood as a sort of
" rnd and mysterious little princess, whose incom-
igs and outgoings were to be watched with the
crcatest interest.
There she is they would cry, flying to their
windows to look at her. She is goingout in her
c-iriage. She is dressed all in black velvet and
splendid furs That is her own, own carriage.
She has so much money that she can have any-
thing she wants-Jane says so. She is very pretty,
too; but she is so pale, and has such big, sorrow-
ful, black eyes. I should not be sorrowful if I were
in her place; but Jane says the servants say she is
always quiet and looks sad."
She rarely turned her large, dark eyes to look at
other children with any curiosity. She had not
been accustomed to the society of children. She
had never had a child companion in her life,
and these little Americans who were so very rosy
and gay, who went out to walk or to drive with
groups of brothers and sisters, and even ran in
the street laughing and playing and squabbling
healthily these children amazed her.
Poor little Saint Elizabeth She had not lived

a very natural or healthful life herself, and she
knew absolutely nothing of real, childish pleas-
ures. You see, it had occurred in this way. When
she was a baby of two years, her young father and
mother both died, within a week, of a terrible fever,
and the only near relatives the little one had were
her Aunt Clotilde and her Uncle Bertrand. Her
Aunt Clotilde lived in Normandy, her Uncle Ber-
trand in New York. As these two were her only
guardians, and as Bertrand de Rochemont was a
bachelor, fond of pleasure, and knowing nothing
of children, it was natural that he should be quite
willing that his elder sister should undertake the
rearing and education of the child.
There was a very great difference between these
two people. The gray-stone chateau in Normandy
and the brown-stone mansion in New York were
not nearly so unlike as the lives they sheltered.
And yet it was said that, in her early youth, Made-
moiselle de Rochemont had been as gay and as
fond of pleasure as either of her brothers. But
then, when her life was at its brightest and gay-
est,-when she was a beautiful and brilliant young
woman,- she had had a great and bitter sorrow
which had changed her forever. From that time
she had seldom left- the house in which she had
been born, and had lived almost the life of a recluse.
At first she had had her parents to take care of,
but when they died she had been left entirely alone
in the great chateau, devoting herself to the life
she had resolved upon and to works of charity
among the villagers and country people.
Ah, she is good, she is a saint, is Mademoi-
selle," the poor people always said when speaking
of her; but they also always looked a little awe-
stricken when she appeared, and were never very
sorry when she left them.
She was a tall woman, with a pale, rigid, hand-


some face which never smiled. She was just, but
cold and exacting. She wore always a straight
gown of black serge, with broad linen bands. Her
favorite reading was religious works and legends
of the saints and martyrs: she strove to do only
good deeds; and adjoining her private apartments
was a little stone chapel.
The little curd of the village, who was plump
and comfortable, and who had the kindest heart
and the most cheerful soul in the world, used at
times to remonstrate gently with her-always in a
roundabout way, however, never quite as if he
were referring directly to herself.
One must not let one's self become the stone
image of goodness," he once said. Since one
is really of flesh and blood, that is not best. No,
no; it is not best."
But Mademoiselle de Rochemont never seemed
mere flesh and blood, exactly; she was more like
a marble saint who had stepped from her pedestal
to walk upon the earth.
And she did not change even when the baby
Elizabeth was brought to her. She attended
strictly to the child's comfort, and tried to do her
duty by her; but it can scarcely be said that her
manner was any softer, or that she smiled more.
For a week or two Elizabeth used to be frightened
by the sight of the black dress and the rigid, hand-
some face, but in time she became accustomed to
them; and through living in an atmosphere so
silent and without brightness, a few months
changed her from a laughing, romping baby into
a pale, quiet child, who rarely made any childish
noise at all.
In a demure way she became fond of her aunt.
She saw few persons besides the servants, who
were all trained to quietness also. She was a sen-
sitive, imaginative child, and the solemn stories
she heard filled all her mind and made up her little
life. She longed to be a saint herself, and spent
hours in wandering in the terraced rose-gardens,
wondering if such a thing were possible in modern
days, and what she must do to succeed in her de-
sire. Her chief sorrow was that she knew herself
to be very weak and very timid-so timid that she
often suffered when people did not suspect it;
and she was afraid that she was not brave enough
to be a martyr. Her little dress-cut straight,
and very narrow-was made of white woolen stuff,
and gathered to a blue band at the waist.
She was a very sweet and gentle child, and her
pure little pale face and large dark eyes had a
lovely, dreamy look. When she was old enough
to visit the poor with her Aunt Clotilde- and she
was hardly seven years old when she began the
villagers did not stand in awe of her, but began to
love her, almost to reverence her, as if she had


- -


been indeed a little saint. The little ones delighted
to look at her, to draw near her sometimes, and to
curiously touch her soft white and blue robe. And
when they did so, she always returned their looks
with a tender, sympathetic smile, and spoke to them
in so gentle a voice that they were very fond of
her. They used to talk her over, and tell stories
about her when they were playing together after-
So, in this secluded world in the gray old stone
chateau,- with no companion but her aunt, with
no occupation but her studies and her charities,-
thinking of little else than martyrs, saints, and
religious exercises, Elizabeth lived until she was
eleven years old. Then a great grief came to her.
One morning Mademoiselle de Rochemont did not
leave her room at the regular hour. As she
never broke the fixed rules she had made for her-
self and her household, this occasioned great anx-
iety. Her old maid-servant waited half an hour,-
an hour; and then went to the door and took the
liberty of listening to ascertain whether her mistress
was moving about the room. There was no sound.
Old Alice returned looking agitated. Would
Mademoiselle Elizabeth mind entering to see if all
were well? Perhaps Mademoiselle, her aunt,
might be in the chapel." Elizabeth went. Her
aunt was not in her room. Then she must be in
the chapel. The child entered the beautiful little
place. The morning sun was streaming in through
the stained-glass window, a broad ray of mingled
brilliant colors slanted to the stone floor and
touched with warm hues a dark figure lying there.
It was Aunt Clotilde, who had sunk forward while
kneeling, and had died in the night.
That was what the doctors said when they were
sent for. She had died apparently without any pain
or knowledge of the change coming to her. Her
face was serene and beautiful, and the rigid look
had melted away and had been replaced by one of
perfect rest.

In less than two months from that time Elizabeth
was living in the home of her Uncle Bertrand, in
New York. He had come to Normandy for her,
himself, and had taken her back with him across
the Atlantic. She was richer than ever now, as a
great part of her Aunt Clotilde's money had been
left to her, and Uncle Bertrand was her guardian.
He was handsome, elegant, and clever; but having
lived long in America, and being fond of American
life, he did not appear very much like a French-
man-at least, he did not seem like the men Eliza-
beth had known, for she had seen only the cure
and the doctor of the village. Secretly, he was
hardly pleased at the prospect of taking care of a
little girl; but family pride, and the fact that such


a very young girl, who was also such a very great
heiress, must be taken care of, decided him. But
when he first saw Elizabeth he could not restrain
an exclamation of surprise.
She entered the room, when she was sent for,
clad in her strange little robe of black serge.
"But, my dear child-" exclaimed Uncle
Bertrand, aghast, staring at her slender figure in
its severe dress.
He managed to recover himself very quickly,
and was in his way very kind to her; but the first
tiing he did was to send to Paris for a maid and
more conventional clothing.
She felt as if she were living in a dream when
all the old life was left behind, and she found her-
self in the big, luxurious house in the gay New
York street. Nothing that could be done for her
comfort had been left undone.
But, secretly, she felt bewildered and ill at ease;
:eerything was so new, so strange, so noisy, and
.) brilliant. The dress she wore made her feel
unlike herself; the books they gave her were full
nf pictures and stories of things of which she knew
nothing; her carriage was brought to the door
and she went out with her governess, driving round
and round the park with scores of other people who
looked at her curiously, she did not know why.
i he truth was that her refined little face was very
beautifull indeed, and her soft dark eyes still wore
the dreamy, spiritual look which made her unlike
,he rest of the world.
She looks like a little princess," she heard her
uicle say one day. "She will some day be a
hbautiful, a lovely woman. Her mother was so,
when she died at twenty; but she had been
brought up differently. This one is a little saint.
I am half afraid of her." He said this with a
little laughter to some of his friends to whom he
had presented the child. He did not know that
his easy, pleasure-loving life made her uneasy.
He gave brilliant parties ; he had no pensioners;
he seemed to think of little but pleasure. Poor
little Saint Elizabeth had many an anxious thought
of him in the quiet hours when he was fast asleep
after a grand dinner or supper party.
He never dreamed that there was no one ot
ahomn she stood in such dread: her timidity in-
creased tenfold in his presence. When he sent
for her, and she went into the library to find
him sitting luxuriously in an arm-chair, an open
novel on his knee, a cigar in his white hand, a
light smile on his handsome mouth, she could
hardly answer his questions and could never find
courage to tell him what she so earnestly desired
to say. She had soon found out that Aunt Clotilde
and the cure, and the life they had led, did not
specially interest him. It seemed to her that he

did not understand them: How could she tell him
that she wished to spend all her money giving alms
to the poor? That was what she wished to tell
him-that she desired money to send back to the
village; that she needed it to give to the poor
people she saw in the streets, to those who lived in
the miserable places.
But when she found herself face to face with him,
and he seemed to find her only amusing, all her
courage failed her. Sometimes she thought she
would even beg him to send her back to Nor-
mandy, to let her live alone in the chateau, as
her Aunt Clotilde had done.
One morning, when she dressed, little Elizabeth
put on the quaint black serge robe, because she
felt more at home in it, and her heart was full of
determination. The night before, she had received
a letter from the cure, and it had contained sad
news. A fever had broken out in her beloved vil-
lage, the vines had done badly, there was sickness
among the cattle; there was already suffering, and
if something were not done for the people they
would not know how to face the winter. In the
time of Mademoiselle de Rochemont they had al-
ways been made comfortable and happy at Christ-
mas. What was to be done? The cur6 ventured
to write to Mademoiselle Elizabeth.
The poor child had scarcely slept. Her dear
village Her dear people! The children would

be hungry, the cows would die, there would be no
fires to warm the aged.
I must go to Uncle," she said, pale and trem-
bling. I must ask him to give me money. I
am afraid, but it is my duty. Saint Elizabeth was
ready to endure anything that she might do her
duty and help the poor."
Because she had been called Elizabeth, she had
thought and read very often about the Saint whose
namesake she was-Saint Elizabeth, whose hus-
band was so cruel to her and who sought to dis-
courage her good deeds. And oftenest she had
read the legend which told how one day, as Eliza-
beth went out with a basket of food to give to the
poor and hungry, she had met her husband, who
fiercely demanded that she should tell him what
she was carrying; and when she was frightened
and in her terror replied Roses," and he tore the
cover from the basket to see if she spoke the truth,
a miracle had been performed, and the basket was
filled with roses, so that she was saved from her
husband's anger and knew also that she had been
forgiven. To little Elizabeth thislegend had seemed
quite real, and to her it proved that if one were
but doing good, there would be nothing to fear.
Since she had been in her new home she had, half
consciously, compared her uncle Bertrand to
the wicked Landgrave, though she was too sensi-


ble and too just to think for a moment that he was
really as cruel as was Saint Elizabeth's husband;
only, she thought he did not care for the poor, and
lived only to enjoy the pleasures of the world;
and surely that was selfish and wrong.
She listened anxiously to hear when her uncle
Bertrand should leave his room. He always rose
late, and this morning he was later than usual, as
he had had a dinner-party the night before.
It was nearly noon before she heard his door
open. Then she went quickly to the staircase; her
heart was beating so fast that she put her little
hand to her side and waited a moment to regain
her breath. She felt quite cold.
Perhaps I must wait until he has eaten his
breakfast," she said. Perhaps I must not dis-
turb him yet. It would perhaps make him dis-
pleased. I will wait yes, for a little while."
She did not return to her room, but waited
upon the stairs. It seemed to be a long time. It
happened that a friend breakfasted with him. She
heard a gentleman come in and recognized his
voice, which she had heard before. She did not
know what the gentleman's name was, but she had
met him going in and out with her uncle once or
twice, and had thought he had a kind face and
kind eyes. He had looked at her in an interested
way when he spoke to her, even as if he were a
little curious about her, and she had wondered
why he did so.
When the door of the breakfast-room opened
and shut as the servants went in and out, she
could hear the two laughing and talking. They
seemed to be enjoying themselves very much.
Once she heard an order given for the mail-
phaeton-they were evidently going to drive as
soon as the meal was over.
At last the door opened and they were coming
out. Elizabeth ran down the stairs and stood in a
small reception-room; her heart began to beat
faster than ever.
Uncle Bertrand," she said as he approached,
and she scarcely knew her own faint voice, Uncle
Bertrand- "
He turned, and seeing her, started, with rather an
impatient exclamation; evidently he was at once
amazed and displeased to see her. He was in a
hurry to go out, and the sight of her odd little fig-
ure standing in its straight, black robe between
the portihres the slender hands clasped on the
breast, the small, pale face and great dark eyes
uplifted was certainly a surprise to him.
"'Elizabeth," he said, what is it you wish?
Why do you come downstairs. And that impos-
sible dress -why do you wear it again ? It is not
suitable "

Uncle Bertrand," said the child, clasping her
hands still more tightly, her eyes growing larger
in her excitement and fear of his displeasure; It
is that I want money--a great deal. I beg your
pardon if I disturb you. It is for the poor.
Moreover, the cur6 has written, 'The people of
the village are ill; the vineyards did not yield
well.' They must have money-I must send them
Uncle Bertrand shrugged his shoulders un-
"That is the message of Monsieur le Curd, is it?"
he said. He wants money! My dear Elizabeth,
I must inquire further. You have a fortune, but
still I must not permit you to throw it away. You
are a child and you do not yet understand."
"But," cried Elizabeth, trembling with agita-
tation, they are so poor when one does not help
them their vineyards are so little. And if the
year is bad they must starve. Aunt Clotilde gave
to them every year even in the good years. She
always said they must be cared for like children."
"That was your aunt Clotilde's good heart,'
replied her uncle. "I must know more of this.
I have no time at present-I am going out of
town. In a few days I will reflect upon it. Tell
your maid to give that old garment away. Go
out to drive; amuse yourself-you need fresh air.
You are too pale."
Elizabeth looked at his handsome, kindly face
in utter helplessness. This seemed a matter of
life and death to her; to him it was a child's
"But it is winter," she panted, breathlessly,
"there is snow. Soon it will be Christmas and
they will have nothing Nothing for the poorest
ones And the children- "
"It shall be thought of later," said Uncle Ber-
trand. I am too busy now. Be reasonable, my
child, and run away. You are detaining me I
can do nothing now."
He left her with a slight, impatient shrug of
the shoulders, and even with an amused smile on
his lips.
Elizabeth shrank back into the shadow of the
porti&res. Great, burning tears filled her eyes
and slipped down her cheeks.
"He does not understand," she said. "He
does not know. And I can do no one good no
one." And she covered her face with her hands
and stood sobbing, all alone.
When she returned to her room she was so pale
that her maid looked at her anxiously and spoke
of it afterward to the other servants. They were
all fond of Mademoiselle Elizabeth. She was so
kind and gentle to everybody.

(To be continued.)





- ---






IT was taken for granted, in our preliminary
remarks last month, that the reader is more or less
familiar with the outline of the Government as it
is described in the language of the Constitution.
Let us bring that literary theory" to the light,
and detect beneath the surface of its simple words
a trace or two of hidden meaning.
The United States of America is somewhat of a
League and somewhat of a Nation. It is a League,
or Confederation, to the extent that it is a union
of sovereign States; it is a Nation to the extent
that it is a union of the people who compose
those States. Strictly speaking, its power is
partly federal and partly national; federal, so far
as it recognizes and deals with the States, in their
sovereign capacity as States; national, so far as it
recognizes and deals with the people, as individuals
or citizens of the United States. In a wider and
more general sense, however, we speak of it as
federal, because it is based upon a compact or
agreement; that compact is the Constitution. By
the Federal Power, therefore, we mean the author-
ity granted by the Constitution to the United
States in other words, we mean the Government
of the Union.
The Federal Power was established for a special
purpose to exercise a general care or guardian-
ship over the rights and interests of the people and
the States. Its creation did not destroy the inde-
pendence or authority of the States. The Federal
Government was made supreme and indestructible,
but its authority was limited to certain objects;

the States, though shorn of certain powers, remained
sovereign and indestructible, and independent in
their own sphere of action.
The government of each State concerns itself,
chiefly, with those affairs which touch the interests
of its citizens in the ordinary transactions and course
of life. With these local or private affairs of the
State the Federal Power has nothing to do. Its
province is to preserve harmony between the
States, and ensure the equal rights of all citizens
of the United States; to protect the States from
invasion or domestic harm, and defend every per-
son from injustice or tyranny on the part of any
State; to shield both States and people from for-
eign violence or injury, and promote their general
welfare at home and abroad. The authority of a
State stops at its own boundaries; the power of
the United States stretches over continents and
The Federal Power, then, alone has charge of
all our interests abroad. This branch of its work,
covering as it does our commercial and general
intercourse with foreign lands, seems clear. The
other branch, that which concerns us at home,- its
domestic relations with the people and with the
States,-is yet more important, and, in some re-
gards, uncertain and obscure.
We have already stated the broad design and
province of the Government. On that subject we
are not without a guide. The Constitution de-
clares, in its opening words, the purposes for
which the Government was established; and the
Tenth Amendment expressly limits the powers of
the United States to those granted to it by the
Constitution. Hence, from all the provisions of
the Constitution, taken together, we should be


able to gather a fair idea of the scope of the Gov-
ernment's authority.
But if we run over those provisions, one by one,
we shall find that its powers are stated in general
terms. The Constitution points out little more
than the general intent; it leaves niuch unsaid,
and much to be inferred. When we speak of the
'"express" powers of the Government we mean
those which are conferred in so many plain and
direct words. But its powers are not only those
which are expressly granted. The Tenth Amend-
ment took special care to avoid that term. It
refers to the powers of the government as those
: delegated" by the Constitution,- not "expressly
delegated,"-and thus left the exact extent of
those powers still open to dispute. When we see
[he Government engaged in any class of work,
,,:e have a right to demand that it shall show its
authority under the Constitution. But we need
not expect it to point to some express provision
,s directly answering our question. It may be do-
iog the work under its incidental or implied pow-
c;s-that is, those which "go without saying,"
[oose which may be inferred from the language of
;be Constitution. It may be doing the work un-
der its auxiliary powers-that is, those covered
by the sweeping provision authorizing it to adopt
Ail necessary and proper means to carry, out its
r.ther powers. Or it may be doing the work un-
.ier what are styled its resulting powers -that is,
powers which cannot be directly traced to any
t:qpress provision, as incidental, auxiliary, or im-
plied, but which may be inferred from the general
intent of the entire Constitution; in other words,
which result or flow from the sum total of its pow-
ers. Let us take a few illustrations.
The Constitution says that the Government shall
have power to levy and collect taxes, to borrow
money, to regulate commerce, to declare war, and
so on. These are express powers, and when we
hear of the Government taxing, borrowing, de-
claring war, or doing certain other plain acts, we
know where it claims its authority. And yet, as
we shall soon see, these express provisions are not
wholly free from doubt.
Again, in no part of the Constitution is power
to suspend what is known as the writ of habeas
corpus* expressly conferred upon the Government.
There is, however, a provision forbidding it to sus-
pend the writ, unless required by public safety in
cases of rebellion or invasion; and from this em-
phatic denial of power we infer that it has power
to suspend the writ under certain circumstances -

namely, in time of martial law and public peril.
Accordingly, the Government has not hesitated to
suspend it in emergency.
So, too, the Constitution does not, in so many
words, empower the Government to carry on war.
But it empowers it to declare war; and from that
power, and its power to raise armies and provide a
navy, and to employ the militia of the States in
the service of the United States, we may clearly
infer, even if there could be any question as to
the meaning of the word "declare," that it has a
general war power in the full sense of that term.
Again, in 1807, the Government ordered a gen-
eral and unlimited embargo which locked up in
our ports all 'ships or vessels bound to foreign
shores. It was a startling and tremendous exer-
cise of power. It reads like a warlike act; but it
was not .urged under the general war power. It
was upheld by the judiciary on the ground that
the Government had absolute authority to regu-
late commerce with foreign nations and among
the States, and that its exercise of that authority
could not be called into question, although its
action in that instance tended to utterly destroy
our foreign commerce. It might be very properly
asked, in connection with this subject, whether
the recent retaliation measures proposed against
Canada were similarly inspired in a friendly way
under the power to regulate commerce, or whether
they sound of war. Either construction, appar-
ently, could be maintained.
Take another case. At the time of the adop-
tion of the Constitution, the United States con-
sisted of thirteen States and a great tract of land
known as the Northwest Territory, extending
northward to the Great Lakes, and westward to the
Mississippi River. In no part of the Constitution
is power expressly granted to the United States to
acquire new territory. Yet, in 1803, the United
States purchased from France the vast region then
styled Louisiana, spreading from the Gulf of Mex-
ico to British America, and from the Mississippi
River to the Rocky Mountains, out of which a
number of our present States and Territories have
since been carved. The right to make this pur-
chase was seriously questioned; but the Supreme
Court of the United States afterward declared that
the Government has the right to add to the national
domain, by conquest or by purchase, under its
express and absolute powers to make war and to
make treaties. Further on, in 1845, the Govern-
ment annexed and admitted into the Union as a
State the Republic of Texas ; this was not done by

*So called from the Latin words used in the ancient form of the writ, signifying You may have the body." Its chief use is to set
at liberty a person wrongfully imprisoned, by bringing him before the court where the legality of his imprisonment may be inquired into.
It is themost celebrated writ in English history, and its arbitrary suspension in time of peace would-be an act of high-handed despotism.
t The word "embargo means a restraint on the sailing of ships either into or out of port, but limited as to time. The embargo of 1807 did
not limit the duration of the restraint; hence the formidable nature of the act.



war or treaty, but the right to make the addition
was claimed under the power to admit new States.
Take yet another case. In the late Civil War
the Government was brought face to face with a
dire crisis. Its treasury was bankrupt, its credit
was exhausted, its troops were in the field fighting
for its life. It needed means to carry on the war;
those means could not be had without money. It
did not have money, it could not borrow it; it there-
fore boldly made it out of nothing. That is, it
issued greenbacks." In sheer desperation it put
its stamp on paper, and solemnly declared that pa-
per to be as good as gold.
In no part of the Constitution can express power
be found to justify that action. After the war
closed, the question was submitted to the Supreme
Court. The Court held that the action of the
Government was lawful, and this was its reasoning :
The Constitution intended that the Government
should endure for ages. It was expressly given the
power to declare war and raise armies and provide
a navy, and under its general war power it had
a right to defend its life in any way that might be
necessary; and, if paper money was necessary to
that end, it had a right to issue it.
After the war, however, the Government con-
tinued to issue greenbacks. The war necessity had
passed; the question was again laid before the Su-
preme Court, and this time the Court took a dif-
ferent tack and went further than it did before.
It held that the Government has the right to make
paper money not only in time of war but in time
of peace, and it defended that right under various
provisions and reasoning under the express
power to borrow money, and under other express
provisions, under the auxiliary powers as proper
means to carry out other powers, and under the
sum ofallthe powers which clothed the Government
with certain supreme attributes of sovereignty "
possessed and exercised by older Governments.
These acts are named merely as illustrations.
They have gone into history; they have been
passed upon by the highest court in our country;
and those decisions stand, until reversed by future
decisions or overcome by Constitutional Amend-
ment, as the true meaning of the Constitution.
They are not mentioned to arouse debate. It was
paper money that helped to save the Union. The
purchase of Louisiana was, in the light of events,
a grand achievement. It was a long reach of
statesmanship. For, by it, the Republic at one
bound passed from the Mississippi to the Rocky
Mountains; and, having gone so far, it was inevit-
able that sooner or later it should leap the crest of
the continent and plant its power on the shores of
the Pacific. Under the right to extend our domain,
whether by purchase, by conquest, or by annexa-

tion, we have attained the magnificent proportions,
as a nation, which we present before the world to-
But we must not shut our eyes to the fact that
we have done these and other things by liberal
views as to the extent of the Federal Power. When
one provision was evidently against us, we have
fallen back upon another. We have made the
plainest and most rigid terms of the Constitution
stretch and bend (they have been even wrenched)
to the dictates of national policy or to the necessi-
ties of the times. The provision of the Constitution
in regard to the "territory" of the United States
referred, almost beyond a doubt, to the North-west
Territory; and its provision in regard to the ad-
mission of new States had in mind the creation of
States either by dividing up some of the "thirteen"
already in existence (with their consent) or the for-
mation of new ones out of the Northwest Territory
-not the admission of foreign States or the crea-
tion of States out of foreign territory. And we
might produce still stronger proof as to the true
intention of other provisions.
Two clauses of the Constitution are of special
importance. The first is that which confers upon
the Government the power to tax and raise revenue
in order to pay the debts and provide for the
common defence and general welfare of the United
States." This provision, or the "general welfare"
part of it, has been the subject of heated argu-
ments from the beginning of the Government to
the present day. Under this provision, the Gov-
ernment plainly has power to raise a revenue; but
whether it can rightfully use its power to tax for
other ends than those of revenue, and collect more
money than it actually needs, and to what matters
of general welfare it can apply the revenue so col-
lected, are questions that have been brought before
the people time and time again, and notably so in
the campaign just ended.
The second clause of great consequence is that
which authorizes Congress to make all laws which
may be "necessary and proper" to carry out the
other powers granted by the Constitution. As to
what the Government may or may not do under
this, its auxiliary power, there is no test beyond
the discretion, or even the caprice, of Congress
and the extreme limits of the Constitution itself;
the courts refuse point-blank to interfere with the
right of Congress to choose its own means so
long as they tend toward proper ends.
To the work actually being done by the Govern-
ment under these two clauses, the language itself
furnishes only a bare clue. And as we have seen,
nearly every provision can be made to stretch to
objects little imagined by the casual reader of the
Constitution. The powers exercised by the Gov-


ernment are greater than appear in words. This
fact you should keep in mind.
All the way along our national career we find
the people divided over the question of Federal
authority-some favoring its liberal extension,
others demanding that it be held carefully in
check. The right of the Government to con-
struct or aid "internal improvements "-such as
the building of national roads, the opening of
water-ways, and the improvement of navigable
streams,-to charter national banks, and carry
out other great measures, has been fought step
by step; and for this reason the later amend-
ments to the Constitution, to guard as far as pos-
sible against new doubts or conflicts, expressly
confer upon the Government the power to enforce
the provisions of such amendments. As there
are people to-day who believe that the Govern-
ment has far exceeded its true province, so there
are others who believe it has not gone far enough.
It is suggested, for instance, that the Government
should build ship-canals, and take charge of the
railroads, of the telegraph, and of a variety of other
great interests, and manage them for the common
benefit of the people, and that, if it does not pos-
sess sufficient power under the Constitution as it
stands, amendments should be adopted giving it
more power.
It will surprise no one at all familiar with the
subject to be told that the Government is doing
things which, under the Constitution, it ought not
to do; and, on the other hand, that it is not doing
things which, under the Constitution, it ought to
do. And those who blindly demand an increase
of power would do well to first understand the
power it actually wields to-day. That amend-
ments will be adopted in the course of time cannot
be doubted; for new conditions provoke new ques-
tions. But they are serious affairs. They should
be made with caution. The person who would
offer a change or addition to the Constitution to
meet every trivial or passing topic of the day is not
a safe adviser of the people.
Every American who is a citizen of one of the
United States lives under two governments and
owes a double allegiance. He owes allegiance to
the government of the State wherein he lives,
upon which he directly relies for protection in his
rights of life, liberty, and property; and he owes
allegiance to the Government of the United States,
whose power he may invoke should his rights as a
citizen of the Union be denied to him by a State,
or should they be put in danger wherever he may
roam. Each government works in a separate

sphere; yet there is a vague borderland of au-
thority where the movements of the one seem to
blend in the power of the other. He should un-
derstand the workings of these governments, and
their exact relations to each other and to himself.
He should understand not only the Constitution
and Government of the Union, but the constitution
and government of his State. With that knowl-
edge he will realize how far his civil liberty may
be affected or imperiled by any disturbance of
their powers. Taking a just pride in both, but
watchful of his own personal independence, he
will not seek to impair their agencies for good
nor will he rashly wish to add to their armor from
any false notion of sovereign display or glory.
In studying the Constitution, the limitations
upon power should be carefully observed. And
in viewing the operations of the Federal Govern-
ment we should not lose sight of the less preten-
tious but equally important operations of the State.



THE operations of the Federal Government in-
clude the actions of the three great branches into
which its power is divided. But the methods em-
ployed by Congress and by the Judiciary are out-
side the purpose of our sketch. It is sufficient to
say that the work of Congress (located at the City
of Washington and consisting of a Senate and
House of Representatives) is chiefly shown in the
laws which it enacts, and which are spread upon
the statute books, within easy reach of all. The
work of the Judiciary (consisting of various courts,
located some at Washington and others throughout
the country) is chiefly shown in its interpretation
and application of those laws in the settlement of
controversies concerning private or public rights
or private or public wrongs; and its leading
decisions, so far as they involve principles or ques-
tions of interest to the public, are set forth in the
various volumes of Court Reports, also within
reach of all.
The work of the third great branch the Execu-
tive-is shown in the actual administration of the
laws. At the head of this branch stands the Presi-
dent of the United States (with headquarters at
Washington), in whom alone the entire Executive
Power of the Government is vested by the Consti-
tution; and, acting under his general command, are
the subordinate agents of administration* (many
residing at Washington, but most of them dis-

SA special Committee of the Senate (without pretending to be entirely accurate) lately reported the number as 171,746-those figures
including, of course, the Army and Navy as well as the civilians in Government employ. Allowing for fluctuation, it may be placed gen-
erally at 170,000 and upward.


persed in various parts of the United States and
various foreign sections of the earth) in round
numbers, not far from 175,000 strong. Upon
this branch rests the duty of carrying into effect
the thousands of laws, in all their variety and in-
tricacies, which Congress for one hundred years
has been industriously enacting, presumably in
strict performance of its own duty and in the inter-
est of the people and the States. A knowledge of
that work involves a knowledge of the laws and
the methods whereby those laws are carried out by
the agents of administration the daily practical
movements of the Government itself.
The great mass of work thus imposed upon the
Executive Power of the Government- embracing
so many distinct subjects, and requiring so many
thousands of agents to perform -must be arranged
and treated in an orderly and systematic manner.
To expect the President to give it his close per-
sonal attention and directly superintend the doings
of each agent, would be absurd. The magnitude
and diversity of the work demand its separation
into parts, and the general supervision or manage-
ment of each part must be intrusted to a separate
officer. On this business basis, and in accordance
with the design of the Constitution, Congress has
divided the work among seven executive depart-
ments, each in charge of a general officer or head
of department," known, respectively, as the Secre-
tary of State, the Secretary of the Treasury, the
Secretary of War, the Attorney-General, the Post-
master-General, the Secretary of the Navy, and
the Secretary of the Interior; and the work of
each department is still further subdivided and
distributed among "bureaus" and "divisions"
and minor "offices," in charge of lesser heads or
chiefs, designated as commissioners," "super-
intendents," directors," and by various other
general or special titles.
An Executive Department, then, properly means
one of the grand divisions of Government work
boldly marked out or suggested by the express
provisions of the Constitution. These grand di-
visions readily arrange themselves. The sovereign
relations of the Republic with foreign powers, and
its official intercourse with the Governments of the
States at home may be regarded as one distinct
grand division; accordingly, we have the Depart-
ment of State. The coinage, currency, revenue,
and general fiscal affairs suggest another great
branch of work; hence, we have the Department
of the Treasury. The mention of armies suggests
work that in time of trouble is likely to tax the
energy of a separate division ; thus, we very ap-
propriately have a Department of War. The pros-
ecution of offenses against the United States, and
other judicial matters wherein the interests of the

Republic are concerned constitute a general di-
vision, represented by the Department of Justice.
The postal service, as one of the most intricate
and important branches of Government work, cer-
tainly forms another grand division; therefore, we
have the Post-Office Department. Maritime pro-
tection, like the military or land defense, forms a
separate division; and thus we have the De-
partment of the Navy. The various matters of
domestic concern, not covered in these other De-
partments, but contemplated by the Constitution,
such as the census, public lands, patents, and
"odds and ends," may be conveniently grouped
into another general division; and thus we have
the very miscellaneous, yet not misnamed, Depart-
ment of the Interior.
To some of these Executive Departments are
intrusted matters which, on their face at least, do
not strictly belong to the grand division to which
they have been assigned by law. For instance,
the "Weather Bureau" is a bureau of the War
Department; the work being intimately connected
with the peaceful interests of agriculture and com-
merce, it is very generally demanded that it should
be taken from military control and placed else-
where. On the other hand, it is urged by some
that the subject of Indian affairs, now in charge of
a bureau of the Department of the Interior, should
be transferred to the War Department. The
Coast Survey, the Light-House Board, the Marine
Hospital Service, and other bureaus or offices,
while they imply connection with maritime affairs,
deal really with commerce and mercantile interests
rather than with matters of national defense, and
are to-day found under the Department of the
Treasury, rather than under the Navy, as their
titles might suggest. The Departments were es-
tablished during a series of years. As special inter-
ests required attention and special bureaus were
created, they were, in many instances, placed
under the most convenient Departments then ex-
isting. Some of these bureaus have grown in
size, and, having been retained where they were
originally placed, instead of being shifted to
more appropriate Departments, they contrast
strangely with the work of other bureaus imme-
diately about them. In this way, we may account
for seemingly improper or haphazard classification
of Government work.
It may further be noted that the Government is
engaged in some unassigned work, not embraced
within any of the regular established Executive
Departments. The Department of Agriculture,
while called a "department," and while independ-
ent of the other departments, is really only an in-
dependent bureau with a mere commissioner in
charge. It has often been proposed to raise it


to the rank of an Executive Department, with
a secretary at its head, preserving its present
name ; or to add to it certain other work now be-
ing done in other bureaus and call the whole a
" Department of Industries." In like manner, it
has been proposed to bring together and consoli-
date the various branches of scientific work, now
being done by the Government in various bureaus
antd under different departments, and establish a
separate Department of Science." But the ob-
jection made to these suggestions is, that the work
done by the Department of Agriculture, and by the
other bureaus in question, while perhaps important
and proper for the Government to perform, as mat-
ters bearing upon national welfare, does not form,
in itself, a broad, grand division of administration,
distinctly mapped out or indicated by the Constitu-
tion, and to do as has been suggested would be to
iEft auxiliary or incidental work into undue promi-
ncnce. And an Executive Department, once es-
tablished, the tendency would be toward a gradual
iblilding up and extension of power, with danger
(i exceeding necessary and proper" limits. So
,3. as actual results are concerned, or for the
purpose of this sketch, it makes little difference
v.chther they are called departments or bureaus;
the work is being done, though perhaps not on so
great a scale as would otherwise be the case. That
o'her Executive Departments will be established is
very probable. Two of those already established,
th Department of the Treasury and the Interior
Department, are liable to become unwieldy by
increase of business; and part of the work now
intrusted to them might very properly and advan-
tageously be taken away and lodged in one or more
separate divisions. The various bureaus of the
Treasury Department, a few of which have been
noted, relating more directly to commercial mat-
ters than to purely fiscal duties, might be grouped
into a Department of Commerce,"-a subject in
itself, comprising a broad division of Constitutional
work. This, however, is a question of administra-

K Since the writing of the foregoing views, and on the eve of put-
ting them into type, another bill before Congress, providing for the
establishment of an Executive Department of Agriculture, has nearly
reached the final stage of legislation, and may become a law by the
time this number of ST. NICHOLAS shall go to press. The adoption
of such a law, it must be frankly confessed, will be a departure from
what has heretofore been regarded as the distinct and true lines of
the Constitution. Agricultural (or farming) interests, so far as they
require dealing with by law, are matters within the province of
each State, and the Federal Government cannot interfere with
them, except so far as they form a part of commerce with foreign
nations or among the States -as, for example, the passage of
diseased cattle from State to State. Aside from this feature
(which belongs to the general subject of "Commerce") the
operations of the Department of Agriculture do not form a great
division of Constitutional work; its duties are scarcely executive
in their nature ; and to class that work as an "Executive Depart-
ment" is to torture the meaning of the term as it is used in the
Constitution. The enactment of the pending measure is not un-

tive convenience rather than of strict necessity, at
the present time.*
It is the heads of department, then, through
whom the President must chiefly deal in giving his
orders and to whom he must directly look for
information as to what is being done in the
administration of the Government. The Consti-
tution, recognizing this dependence, provides that
the President "may require the opinion, in writ-
ing, of the principal officer in each of the Execu-
tive Departments, upon any subject relating to the
duties of their respective offices." This depend-
ence, of course, extends from the principal officers
to the subordinate chiefs. The Constitution re-
quires the President to give to Congress, from time
to time, information of the state of the Union,"
and this he does, at least once a year, in the shape
of his "Annual Message." The heads of depart-
ment, with one exception, are likewise ordered by
Congress to render regular annual reports, at the
beginning of each session of Congress, in regard
to the operations of their departments. It might
be imprudent to require the Secretary of State to
publicly disclose all the doings of his department;
yet even that department is ordered to annually
transmit to Congress certain information gathered
by its agents abroad, together with other details
not involved in the secrecy of unfinished diplo-
matic negotiations.
The President, in his Annual Message, relies on
the annual reports of the heads of department,
and these heads of department in turn rely upon
(and transmit with their reports) the reports made
to them by their subordinate bureau and division
officers. In this way, at the beginning of every
session of Congress, the general operations of the
Government during the preceding year, with
recommendations for legislation, are spread before
the legislative branch of the Government in the
interesting but formidable literature of "annual
reports." In addition to the regular reports
required by law, and other reports which the

likely to result in one of two serious evils pointed out by eminent
students of the question -either it will be the establishment of a
great reservoir into which Congress will be pouring power for
years to come, by the addition or creation of other bureaus, and in
whose increasing volume the interests of Agriculture as now cared
for will be neglected or lost; or, it will arouse the envy of other in-
dustries and interests, which will demand similar recognition by
Congress, and we may then expect to see the formation of other
Executive Departments, one devoted exclusively to Manufact-
ures," another to "Labor," another to "Art," and perhaps we
may even realize the sarcasm of the critic and have a separate
"Department of Everything." All this, however, is by the
way. The movement is noticed as another effort to expand the
language of the Constitution beyond its apparent meaning. But
these criticisms, based purely upon Constitutional principles,
should not be understood as questioning the value or the pro-
priety of the present work of the Agricultural Department or its
claims to enlarged powers within special lines, as will be hereafter


Executive Department may see fit to send to Con-
gress from time to time (as well as the publications
continually being issued to the public by depart-
ments and bureaus), the President and other
officers of the service are incessantly being called
upon by either House of Congress, when in
session, for information on special subjects to
guide the law-makers in their important work
of legislation.
The head of each Executive Department is
authorized by Congress to prescribe regulations,
not inconsistent with law, for the government of
his department, the conduct of its officers and
clerks, the distribution and performance of its busi-
ness, and the custody, use, and preservation of the
records, papers, and property appertaining to it.
From the intricacy of these regulations and from
blind devotion or long adherence to senseless
forms, have grown up some very roundabout
methods of business, commonly known as "red-
tape "- a name taken from the color of the ribbon
used in public offices in tying papers." To follow,
for instance, a simple purchase of stationery for
department use, through the official maneuvers,
from the time the stationery is ordered until it is
finally paid for, would be to go through a maze of

*The term "red-tape" is not confined to the United States,
Charles Dickens, in ridiculing this feature of circuitous action on the
part of the British Government, described it as the Circumlocution
Office or the chief of public offices "in the art of perceiving how
not to do it." Mark Twain, in his famous satire of" The Great Beef
Contract," has placed on record his views about official formalities
and delays on the part of our own Government. Nor is his burlesque
so extravagant as many people may suppose, as will appear from
various illustrations given in the report of the Senate Committee.
The statement of some very ordinary instances of red-tape occupies
pages of that report; we may condense one specimen to its smallest
limits. Take, for instance, the case of a clerk in the division of
accounts in the General Land Office, in the Interior Department,
examining an account of a disbursing agent of that department. In
the course of his examination that clerk would need to know the
balance to the credit of the disbursing agent at the last settlement of
his accounts by the First Comptroller of the Treasury. This requires
him to obtain the information from the Office of the Register of the
Treasury, where it is kept. Now, to get that information, the clerk,
in following out the regular methods, would fill out a blank request
for information, addressed to the Register of the Treasury, place his
initials upon that request, and hand it to the chief of the division of
accounts, who would in turn hand it to the assistant chief, who
would place his initials also upon it and return it to the chief, who
would then put his initials upon it and pass it to the law-examiners,
one of whom would examineand puthis initials upon it, and pass it to
another law-examiner, who would also initial it, and then forward it
by a messenger to the room of the Commissioner of the General Land
Office, where it wouldbe received and the name of the commissioner
stamped upon it by a clerk, and then returned to the division of ac-
counts, where another clerk would make a record ofit and also of the
name of the clerk who filled up the blank request; and it would then
be handed to the clerk who originally made it, who would then pass it
to another clerk, who would record it in full in the record of letters
written in that division, initial it. and hand it back to the original
"requesting" clerk, who would make a letterpress copy of it, ad-
dress an envelope to the Register of the Treasury, and place the

books and a small regiment of clerks. In the
keeping of Government accounts it is necessary
that there should be guards against fraud, and
there is reason in requiring that each transaction
in relation to the collection or disposition of pub-
lic funds shall undergo the scrutiny of different;
clerks and be recorded in different books, each
entry or clerk acting as a check upon the other
But there is scarcely a branch of department
detail, as now observed, whether in matters o,
finance or in minor matters of unimportant cor-
respondence, that is not open to improvement,
and in some regards the extent to which this detail
is carried is simply farcical. Indeed, the evil has
become so notorious that a committee of the Sen-
ate was recently appointed for the special purpose
of overhauling these dusty and cobwebbed meth-
ods, and the result has been some sort of effor;
to do away with useless details and ensure econ-
omy, dispatch, and general simplicity in the trans-
action of public business. Further observations of
a general nature, in regard to the officers and
methods of administration, may be postponed for
the sake of present brevity, until we come to the
organization and work of particular departments.
[To be continued.]

envelope and the inclosure in a basket, whence a messenger wooui
carry them to the mailing-room. Without tracing the course ofthat
letter through the Post-Office Department, we may next begin on it
when it arrives at the Register's Office in the Treasury Department.
There it would be opened by a messenger, who would hand it to a
clerk, who would make out the required certificate showing the bal-
ance on the last account, with other data, put his initial on the cer-
tificate, and hand it to the chief of his division, who would put his
initial on it and forward it by a messenger to the Assistant Regis-
ter, who would sign and deliver it to a messenger, to be mailed to
the Commissioner of the General Land Office. Here comes in the
agency of the Post-Office Department again. When received in the
Land Office the certificate would be delivered by a messenger (who
opens the mail) to a clerk, who would hand it to another clerk, who
would place around it a "jacket," stamp on the jacket the date of
its receipt in the office and the running number of the communica-
tion as shown by the Index, make a brief note of the contents of the
certificate on the back of the jacket, and then hand the certificate to
another clerk, who would make an entry of it in a book called the
"Numerical Index and check the jacket, and hand it to another
clerk, who would enter the certificate in the "Register of accounts
and letters received," and check the jacket and forward it, with its
contents, by a messenger, to the chief of the division of accounts,
who would hand it to another clerk, who would enter the certificate
in a Register of accounts and letters received," and also in an
"Index," check the jacket, endorse thereon the volume and page
of the register in which it had been entered, and then hand it over
to the clerk who originally made the request, who then could go on
with his examination of the account of the disbursing agent. That,
by the way, is only one step in the terrible red-tape rigmarole
still to be pursued before the final examination and settlement of
that agent's account! Here, then, is a trifle -a request for a few
figures which could be obtained, within a few minutes, by the clerk
putting on his hat, jumping into a street-car, riding to the Treasury
Department, only six short blocks away, receiving orally the infor-
nation from the clerk who has it in the Register's Office, and return-
ing to his desk in the Interior Department!

I ruI,, L-

SIR TRISTRAM .......An English gentleman
LADY GERALDINE ................. His wife
LADY BEATRICE ........A guest, who sings
LITTLE EDITH ............. The grandchild
Waits, ladies and gentlemen, "The Lord of

r T i r i .-.:. .. ri.,: .,r.., ... 1,, i T,. r,.... I. ili stm as
.- L ,,l .: i 1 -.. .. Ih *l f, I 1. I. :, .I L In a t-
S ..li .. i i I .. i ...: .r .. : .~-!: which
i it .0 :, ,,. o, !, .,h ,| .l : '.. ,. ro the
.,.- 1 .i i ,u .. .. i, ,. .. .:. .. .. ..... i ,a r i b, .:. rin g s

I r I ,:l : tk ,. ,,..: .,-cnated,
rl,:,u.-h rh ,l.,. ,, ,, 1,,. ,I 1,. ih : W aits,

T h ,-; .. ,,.. : .-,u l ..q ,. .II II :..: .I,.,,r. ,....,: i,,,1s t b e
r l.e,, .....,,. ,i A L.I ,.. ii.....:. ,.,. T e i,,, Lire w ill

1 I. ... L.. d ..4 t !, ul. I,,,. l ,I, !',!I. .r .- il. r" -i..irited,
allkig i.vilwiud ul iLijii d Wno duiig tLlWct Lsi ab1pca.aznce.


MASTER RIVERS........ Another tuneful guest
A JESTER ...............................
GREGORY ....... .......... .. A servant
H UGO ........................... A servant
Misrule and his merry band, children, etc., etc.


(Curtain rises, discovering two servants and a jester.)

GREGORY-By the mass, this is the merriest
Christmas I e'er did see. Didst ever know
such goings on ? Such eating, and drinking,
and frolicking ? What a dinner had we the
day; and Ods body, what a pudding was that!
They perforce left enough for us to feast
VOL. XVI.- 10.

HUGo-Aye, that they did, and right royally
I tell thee, Gregory, we do well'to live in these
days of good Queen Bess, when there 's plenty
to eat and drink. I warrant thee those knav-
ish knights we hear of oft went hungry.
GREGORY The more fools they. I care not for
glory. As the merry play-actor saith, I am


one that am nourished by my victuals, and
would fain have meat." Ah, Hugo, that's a
rare play; it maketh one to laugh mightily.
The master goeth oft to see it, and he de-
lighteth in that merry Launce. Marry, thou

, -'J.," .
\i /[ I '

y'A., ---

-_ 'i



;* / '
I, I





shalt see anon how pat I'll do 't; the master
saith, Christmas or no Christmas, I shall pre-
sent Launce and his dog.
HUGO -The feasters soon shall come, I trow. 'T is
eight o' the clock. How now, Fool? Why art
thou drowsy? Whence these doleful dumps?
Awake and give us a taste of thy drollery.
JESTER 0, give o'er, I prithee. 'T is sad enough
to show folly to the wise. My pearls are not
for swine.
HUGO-Swine! Thou unmannerly knave; we '11
whack thee soundly an thou mind'st not.
JESTER -Nay; an thou canst not be civil, I'll
take myself away. I'd fain be still. I 'm
grinding at my mill againstt the Yuletide.
GREGORY What mean'st thou, boy ?
JESTER -Dost think we men of mind can forth-

with do our task, as ye can lift a trencher?
Aforetime must we store the jest that seemeth
struck like flash of steel. E'en now I'm sit-
ting on the jokes I 'll hatch anon.
GREGORY Ho Ho thou art rare, Sir Fool.
JESTER Then leave me lest I be well done with
such a scurvy fire as you would give.
GREGORY My life, but thou art quick. I would
I had your wit.
JESTER 0, covet it not, good Gregory. Thou
art fool enough without it.
HUGO He hath thee on the hip," as saith the
Jew. Hark I hear the steps of the gentle.
Let us to our posts.
(Enter the Christmas company.)
SIR TRISTRAIM-This way, good friends. I pray
you be merry and at ease; make our home
your own. My sweet wife here, and my
chicks will look to 't that a Christmas in old
England shall not see you want for anything.
In our simple English way we bid you wel-
come to Yuletide.
LADY GERALDINE Find seats, dear hearts. We
'd have such a Christmas eve as would drive
all thoughts but happy ones far from you.
'T is a blessed time, for the good-will the
angels sang of yore gains apace, and in this
fair land, far from those lonely heights where
the shepherds watched their sheep, we gather
to praise Christ's name, and show each to
each the love we bear.
SIR T.- Aye, she speaketh well. I own 't is true;
but I fear me ye may not be merry. My wife is
unco' guid, as the canny Scots would say; but-
I 'm yet a sinner
Who loveth dinner,
And fain would see you gay;
I fear not folly,
I 'd e'er be jolly,
Nor work when I can play.
JESTER 0, nuncle, thou mak'st me weary.
SIR T.-How now, gentle Jester, an why dost
repine ?
JESTER It is my sweet privilege to play the fool,
and it likes me not when you begin.
SIR T.- You rascally lout, what mean you ?
JESTER -Know you not there is a time for all
things ? The mistress would have us gay, but
she hath sense to know that they only can be
truly happy who are truly good.
You, my wicked lord, nor I, nor no man
E'er can happy be as noble woman.
WOMEN- Hear, hear; good for the Jester.
MEN (derisively)- Oh, oh !
SIR T.- Ah, you sly dog, you know how to make
friends where friends are worth the having.


LADY G.--Thank you, boy. None need have
fear we shall be too serious. And now, to
begin, let us sing The First Nowell."
SIR T.- One moment, an it please you. (To
Jester.) Boy, come hither! ( Whispers to
Jester, whoruns out.) I hope it is no offense,
but at the last Yuletide the words of these
same Christmas Carols slipped so villainously
from our minds that we sang but illy,- and it
is no marvel, for we sing them but once the
year,- so I bethought me to send to London,
and Master Evans hath sent me here the
words, in good fair type, that all may read,
and, not fearing to slip, may sing right lustily.
Boys, give out the songs. Now will we sing
"The First Nowell." (They sing.)
JESTER Nuncle, that is a goodly song. It re-
fresheth my spirits. If you had a soul, I think
it would do it good.
Sni T.-If I had a soul, blockhead; and why
have I not?
JESTER I give it up. I know not why.
SIR T.-But what proof hast thou that I have
not ?
JPlTER-- Art a philosopher and askest me to
prove a negative ? It resteth for thee to prove
that thou hast.
SIR T.- And how can it be done, my pretty
knave ?
JLSTER -Marry (Sings)

Now, mark me! do!
But show a ray
Of love for me,
It goeth far
To prove thy soul.
Now, say not la
But let us see
Your cake's not dough.

SIR T.- Good, fool! By all the saints, this is
admirable nonsense. Thou hast earned the
cross, and shalt bear it. (Giving money.)
JESTER Oh, no; I 'm not musical for nothing.
I cannot draw silver music from a heart of flint.
Not I, forsooth. 'T is the caitiff wretch that
bideth round the corner.
SIR T.-Now, let the frolic begin. Ho, Gregory!
Hugo! go bid my hinds bring hither the Yule
log. (Exeunt G. and H.) Now, friends, be-
think you that Care 's an enemy of life. As
saith Young Hamlet: What should a man
do but be merry ?" Master Shakspere giveth
us another good text in Richard II.: "Be
merry, for our time of stay is short." Let
us all stand up and shout for Yuletide joy.

(Stand and hurrah. Ladies wave handkerchiefs.
Log brought in.)

Come, bring with a noise,
My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas Log to the firing,
While my good dame she
Bids ye all be free
And drink to your health's desiring."

LADY G.-Let us raise our voices in the grand
old carol, From Far Away."
SIR T.-Ah, good wife, thou choosest well. I
love that same old song.
LADY G.-Be seated all. Frame your minds to
mirth and merriment, for now 't is seasonable.
SIR T.- Boy, can notyou sing? Too much carol
maketh me sad. I fain would have a stirring
ditty-or a rollicking ballad.
JESTER-Ah, master, Heaven is not so partial to
any mortal as to make him beautiful, and
wise, and then to gild him with the power of

/ 'i t

, 6 ; i



'Aw, -/
~II 'jr

'its e

X i I. -o
:, if n ',,i ',,, '

4i i ) "H

^^ __- ^'' *''

song. I'm no nightingale, nor be I a lark
(though perchance at times I aid one,-but
that is apart).
LADIES-Oh, sing, sweet youth.
JESTER-It ill beseemeth me to say you nay. To
decline mayhap were more inglorious than
to fail, but i' faith I can not. I 'm coltish to-
SIR T.-Coltish ? What mean'st thou ?


JESTER-Why, a little hoarse. An it please you,
ask Master Rivers to sing. He hath a mar-
velous fine voice, and knoweth aballad't would
make ye merry to hear.
LADY G.-Thou speakest well. Good Master
Rivers, favor us, an thou wilt, with thy an-
tique song.
MASTER R.-An it please you, my lady, I '11 sing
from now till Michaelmas.
JESTER-Oh, not so long, good master. Be brief,
if you would win our love.

(Master Rivers sings The Leather Bottel"
from "Pan Pipes." All clap hands and cry
" Good! ")

SIR T.-My thanks, good friend. The perform-
ance doth thee credit. I would I had thy
voice -and thy years. Well, sweet wife, 't is
thy choice next. What wilt thou offer to our
guests and the general joy ?
LADY G.- Good my lord, our little grandchild,
Edith, hath a verse. Brief is it, but beautiful.
'T was writ by Master George Herbert, and
Lovejoy" calls he it. Come hither, Edith.
Now, sweet child, say thy little lines. (Edith

'-- S on a window late I cast my
-' -- eye,
I saw a vine drop grapes with
----r "' /' \ Jand C
-' ~ '" ~- ..Anneai'd on every bunch.
',-, v ,' One standing by
'Ask'd what it meant. I (who
'i" V f- *'i '' To1 am never loath
STo spend my judgment) said:
ii 1 It seem'd to me
To be the body and the letters
I,. both
'' .. Of Joy and Charity." "Sir,
Sr '. you have not missed,"
r .. WIS ~i The man replied. It figures
S Jesus Christ."

//-((l j SIR T.-" Sweet in-
vocation of a child, most
Pretty and most pathetical." Now will we
have a bit from a bright play. My servant,
Gregory, is no Burbage, but he doth some-
thing smack; he hath a kind of taste for the
players' art, and will now give you the speech
of Launce, from The Two Gentlemen of Ve-
rona." The dog you see not. 'T is "in his
mind's eye." Sirrah, stand forth. (Gregory
recites Act. II., Sc. 3.) (Applause.)

(Singing without : God rest thee, Merry Gentlemen.")

LADY G.-'T is the Waits singingfrom door to door.
When they have done we will bid them enter.
(Waits conclude their carol.) Good my lord,
may we not call them in to share our festivity ?
SIR T.-Marry will we. Jester, bid you the

minstrels to come in and sing for us again.
They discourse most excellent music. (Waits
enter and sing again: The Boar's Head
Carol," or some carol for male voices.)
SIR T.-'T.is well; 't is very well. Perchance the
Waits are dry. Belike you all may be, for so
in sooth am I. Hugo, bring hither the lov-
ing-cup. Break this respectful stillness. You
have been staid too long. (General talk,
very brisk and voluble. Loving-cuf passed.)
SIR T.--(Resuming seat.) Now, neighbors all,
again let quiet reign. We '11 have another
Christmas song. (Waits sing: "What Maid
Was This? "from Christmas Carols Old and
JESTER- Sir Twistem, methinks that sdng was
e'en as good as the other one.
SIR T.- No more, my sweet fool. Thou need'st
not think to match thy crossed shilling.
JESTER Ah, good my lord, think not I care for
thy silver; 't was the winning gave me joy.
But I love music; my soul longeth for it. I
suck sweet melancholy from a song as thou
suckest a dull brain from thy potations.
SIR T.- Sirrah, thou abusest thy privilege. I
care not for ale, nor is my brain befogged.
JESTER Then, speaking of silver, canst thou tell
me why a boxed rat is like a man becoming
short of money?
SIR T.-Beshrew me, boy, I can not answer.
JESTER Because, look you, it will be a gnawing
to get out.
SIR T.--Go to! annoying. A villainous jest,
i' faith.
JESTER Nuncle, where hadst thou this fine
ale ?
SIR T.- Of Master Davenant at the Crown Inn,
JESTER Of Master Davenant! Then why is the
Crown Inn like Jacob's Well?
SIR T.- I know not that, either.
JESTER -Because, hark ye, he brews drink there.
SIR T.- Go to, thou art too subtle for me. He
brews drink! 'T is passing good! (Wifes
tears.) Hebrews drink-to be sure. I won-
der not that the melancholy Jacques would
fain wear motley. By the way--that same
sadmanreminds me -(Addresses Waits). My
good friends, could ye sing for us that fine
song the huntsmen sing in the forests of
Arden, as 't is done at the Curtain theater?
WAITS Aye, good my lord, that can we.
SIR T.-We must have a little spice withal, or the
carols will pall upon our taste. (Waits sing,
What shall He have who Kills the Deer?"
from the Boosey collection.) (The bystanders
in the scene aplaud.)



LADY G.- Lady Beatrice, wilt thou not sing for us
that quaint old ballad that I love so well?
L;DY B.- If it is thy pleasure, I can not decline.
(LadyB. sings'" 0, Mistress Mine," or "Phil-
lida Flouts Me," from "Pan Pifes.") (Noise
LADY G.- Good my lord, what noise is this with-
SIR T.- It must e'en be those merry roisterers
who follow The Lord of Misrule. Fear them
not, they are but somewhat rude. They 'll do
no ill. Some there are, poor souls, who know
no way to show their joy but by making a
monstrous noise.
(I-nter The Lord of Misrule and followers with music,
holiy-horse, etc. They dance and distribute papers, for
which they receive pennies. A poor child comes with
LA\)Y G.-Ah dear little mouse. Bring hither
thy Christmas-box. Soon may 't be full.
(Roisterers exeunt.)

JESTER (yawning) I have an exposition of
sleep come upon me, nuncle. Is to-day to-mor-
row, or yesterday? If too full we fill one day,
't will spill and spoil the next. I fain would
niggard with a little rest. Christmas joys are
well, but-

A surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings."

SIR T.-Thou art not altogether a fool. The time
draws near, "so I regreet the daintiest last
to make the end most sweet." Dear heart,
what shall be the final act in this our Yule-
tide play ?
LADY G.- Glad are our hearts. Peace, plenty,
and joy. smile upon all. Let our last act on
the birthday of our Lord be the union of our
voices in praising His name. Let us sing
Gloria in Excelsis." (All sing.)
(At the close, curtain falls.)

NOTI: Almost all the songs named in the text can be obtained by ordering through music-dealers, and most of the waits and carols are
to be found in the English Melodies and Sacred Series of the collection called The Choralist." Of course, when necessary, other
old songs and carols may be substituted at will, for those mentioned here.


i. Clip, clip, whip, whip, Pa per all the pat ty pans, And
: -:

3 3

S-- -- -- --
.... I-- =__ =t S- =_ EEE

-I! I i


cream the but ter white; ... Clip, clip,

flip, flip,

^*=^ --~--=- =i----- ^ a=:= Ej Eg=--T

_--__r f---- ^4 -- --= -

^> ~cOvese ........................ f --

Cakes to beat the ba ker-man's,-So whip with all your might.

.... ...................

Whisk, whisk, brisk, brisk,
Soon the whites will stand alone,
The sugar's all stirred thin;
Whisk, whisk, frisk, frisk,
Out is every raisin-stone,
And now the flour goes in.

Beat, beat, fleet, fleet,
Sprinkle in the spicery
And patter on the plums;
Beat, beat, sweet, sweet,
Bake it in a trice-a-ree,
For here the Taster comes!


I ~___/ I


l'T'"j. 4
*i- r' **~j i
I.'ur ~ e -
*1 A/$J ~ .<1

(A new version of an old rhyme.)
THERE was a young lady and, what do you think?
She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink.
Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,
And yet this young lady scarce ever was quiet.

'.. -


..f y tt C s s d b e yu, w t

/ *_ ,* ,2; -...

yousee Ahnotone,butmany. Some of you
g ,4 -

decked with icicles-old Father Christmas from
you see? AhI not one, but many. Some of you

would see, in your mind's eye, an old man with
long, white, frosty beard and kindly face, his
brave form draped in a sparkling robe of snow
decked with icicles-old Father Christmas from
top to toe. Some would see another sort of fig-
ure,-a round, roly-poly, jolly personage, dressed
in furs from crown to sole, laughing in every feat-
ure of his plump, ruddy face, all aglow after driv-
ing his Dunder and Blixen, and half hidden by his
great sleigh-load of toys. Some of you, again,
would see nothing but the toys, and your only
thought, I shudder to say, would be, "Which of
them are for me ? Some of you would see no
fancied personage at all; but glorious winter with-
out, and within doors a bright home, a glowing
hearth, and allthe family eager towelcomeyou from
school for the happy holiday week. And a great
many of you would scarcely close your eyes before
the beautiful Christ-child would come and fill your
soul with love and joy and gratitude; and your
one next thought would be to give happiness to
many, to make other hearts as glad as your own
on the Perfect Day.
So it would be; and all would be looking out of
themselves and into themselves. Meantime, waves
of happiness and of sadness from the great, busy
world would be rolling by, too softly to be dis-
tinctly heard and then -
There 's a saucy sparrow for you; to think of a
tiny bird like that one of my best little friends,
too whispering me to end my discourse; assur-
ing me that the children understand me perfectly,
but are quite ready to hear about something else.
He says, too, that the St. Nicholas Christmas is,
after all, an early bird like himself, and there is
plenty of time for all things.-Ah, well. Your

giver of wholesome advice must ever stand ready
to take a like benefit. So I '11 heed Mr. Sparrow,
and wishing you many happy returns of all good
visions, good thoughts, and blessed occasions, I'!1
give out this pretty winter song in short words.
It is sent you by our friend Eudora S. Bumstead,
and is called

Now the snow is on the ground,
And the frost is on the glass;
Now the brook in ice is bound
And the great storms rise and pass.
Bring the thick, gray cloud;
Toss the flakes of snow;
Let your voice be hoarse and loud,
And blow, wind, blow !
When our day in school is done
Out we come with you to play.
You are rough, but full of fun,
And we boys have learned your way.
All your cuffs and slaps
Mean no harm, we know;
Try to snatch our coats and caps,
And blow, wind, blow !
You have sent the flowers to bed;
Cut the leaves from off the trees;
From your blast the birds have fled;
Now you do what you may please.
Yes; but by and by
Spring will come, we know.
Spread your clouds, then, wide and high,
And blow, wind, blow !
"THE other day," writes a new friend, "G. B.,"
" I heard a boy say that his father had come home
from a long voyage with his 'pocket full of rocks.'
And when I remarked that his father must be a sort
of giant to wear a pocket big enough to put rocks
in, he laughed at me and said he meant money
when he said rocks.
"Since then I have heard of real stone money.
The inhabitants of the Marshall Islands in the Pa-
cific Ocean use it. Their stone money is a kind
that is found on the Pelew Islands, and is shaped
like grind-stones. Some of them are so large that
a single one may weigh two and even three tons."

WILL my youngest American hearers-my
very youngest- please give me their attention ?
Ah, here you are! Well, my little ones, as
you very soon are to begin to learn your letters,
if, indeed, you are not already learning them, it
may interest you to know that the babies of other
countries, as well as baby Americans, are expected
to know their alphabets at a very early age; and
some of them, because there are more letters in
their alphabets, have even a harder time than you
do. Some, again, have less to learn. For in-
stance, as a sprightly and learned correspondent
informs this pulpit, the Sandwich Island alphabet



has only twelve letters; the Burmese, nineteen;
the Italian, twenty; the Bengalese, twenty-one;
the Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, Samaritan, and
Latin, twenty-two each; the French, twenty-
three; the Greek, twenty-four; the German and
Dutch, twenty-six each; the Spanish and Slav-
onic, twenty-seven each. But, on the other hand,
the Arabic has twenty-eight; the Persian and
Coptic, thirty-two; the Georgian, thirty-five;
the Armenian, thirty-eight; the Russian, forty-
one; the Muscovite, forty-three; the Sanscrit and
Japanese, fifty; the Ethiopic and Tartaric, two hun-
dred and two.
If this information bewilders you, my poor little
letter-learners, don't mind it. It will keep. One
of these days you will be big and able to play tag,
and, later on, base-ball in all these languages.
Then, a few letters, more or less, in any one of
them, will be a matter of small consequence to
you. Even now, I dare say, after what I have
told you, you 'd be able to play with the letter-
blocks of any country. In truth, if I were you,
I think I should prefer a box of Ethiopic or Tar-
taric letter-blocks to begin with.
If you wish, I'll mention this matter to Santa
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I saw in your department an inci-
dent called Have You Seen Him ? by a little boy who signs him-
self" E. P. McE." I think I can tell him what it is. It is sometimes
called a sand-fiddler. I have often seen these funny little sand-fiddlers
on the beach at Sullivan's Island, near this city. They are somewhat
like a baby crab, and are very funny little creatures. You can see
clean through them.
This is the first letter I have ever written to you.
Your loving reader, L. G. W., JR.

WHAT is this strange news that comes to me?
Can it be true that human beings are to-day pro-
posing to sell to young folks patent soap-bubblers
that are warranted to blow a hundred soap-bub-
bles without re-filling"? Warranted to blow
them! Think of that Who wants one? Not
I, nor mine. Do you, my children? As if the
great charm of blowing bubbles were not in the
uncertainty of getting any at all! It makes me
furious to think of the effect such a tool as this
would have upon a child's character. Like as not,
too, the patent bubbles, so blown, are warranted
not to burst-- pah Think of it, my youngsters,
you who have seen real ones -those beautiful,
floating, shiining, picture-y things that go out in a
diamond-twinkle almost as soon as you look at
them Now, I '11 wager that these hundred
patented bubbles go rolling about the house till
they are dusty Perhaps children may even get
an occasional hurt by stubbing their toes against
the tough globules -who knows ? and Mamma
may chide the servants for allowing such danger-
ous things to lie around.-Warranted indeed !

HERE is a letter from Anna M. Talcott, who first
put the Fruit and Vegetable question, and

you have a right to see it; though your Jack must
say that the matter is not yet quite settled.

DEAR JACK: I was much pleased to read the
letters in the September number of ST. NICHOLAS
from Anna J. H., Arthur J. Sloan, Jessie T., Wini-
fred Johnson, and Elsie M. R. I wish to thank
them all, as well as those whose letters did not
appear in print. All I can say in answer to the
above-mentioned letters is to ask if corn, beans,
pease, tomatoes, pumpkins, and squash are not
considered vegetables? I thought I had discov-
ered the difference when a friend told me vegeta-
bles were served with meats, and fruits never, until
I remembered cranberries and apple-sauce. Some
one suggested looking out the derivation of the
different words. There must be a difference, or a
man ivould never put up a sign in our street that
he sold "Fruit and Vegetables."
Yours distractedly,


MY friend, John P. Lyons, who evidently is a
poetical stenographer of the most expert kind,
sends you the following faithful report of a modest
cat's soliloquy:

BEFORE the blazing fire, on a downy Turkish rug,
Lay Pussy gently napping, quite as snug as any bug;
She looked supremely happy, and most musically purred,
Nor imagined for a moment she was being overheard;
But I happened to be present and caught every word she said,
And this is quite the train of thought that ran in Pussy's head:
"Oh, what a grand and glorious thing it is to be a cat!
Yes, every day I live, I grow more positive of that.

"For all the great, big, busy world as is quite right and meet!
Comes humbly every day to lay its tribute at my feet; -
Far down within the damp, dark earth the grimy miner goes,
That I on chilly nights may have a fire for my toes;
Brave sailors plow the wintry main, through peril and mishap,
That I, on Oriental rugs, may take my morning nap;
Out in the distant meadow meekly graze the lowing kine,
That milk, in endless saucerfuls, all foaming, may be mine;

The fish that swim the ocean, and the birds that fill the air-
Did I not like their bones to pick, pray think you they'd be there ?
But first, of all who wait on me, pre-eminent is man;
For me he toils through all the day, and through the night doth
Especially the gentleman who keeps this house for me,
And takes such thoughtful, anxious care, that I should suited be.
He's stocked his rare old attic with the finest breed of mice,-
A little hunting, now and then, comes in so very nice ]

And furthermore, the thoughtful man, a wife has married him,
To tidy up the house for me, and keep it neat and trim;
And both of them with deference my slightest fancy treat;
And as I'm quite fastidious about the things I eat,
They never offer me a dish, to please my appetite,
Until they've tasted it themselves, to see if all is right;
And to entice my palate, when it 's cloyed with other things,
All fattening in a gilded cage, a choice canary swings.

But best of all, they 're training up, with pains that can't be told.
Their children, just to wait on me, when they have grown too old.
Ah, truly I am monarchess of all that I survey;
No rules or laws I recognize, no bells or calls obey.
I eat and sleep, and sleep and eat, nor ever have 1 toiled;
No kind of base, degrading work my paws has ever soiled.
Oh, truly 't is a gladsome thing to be a pussy-cat!
I 'm truly glad, when I was born, I stopped to think of that."



PAPER dolls may be made to serve as Christmas
cards, and at the same time as an ingenious me-
dium for conveying a gift of money, in a way which
is sure not to offend,
Select comical heads from cards or pictures, and
make bodies of stiff cardboard. Dress your dolls
in colored tissue-paper, folding new, clean bank-
notes to serve as aprons or ruffles (see No. 2), or
as shawls, petticoats, or other articles of clothing
(see No. 3 and No. 4).

the center, it will fairly imitate a plate of jam. The
silver dollar may also be treated as in No. 6, us-
ing the head of the Goddess of Liberty by care-
fully pasting tis-
sue-paper of the

same color as
the card's back-
ground over the
rest of the dol-
lar, so as to bring
out the profile
of the goddess
en si/louette. A
jaunty little mod-
ern bonnet can
be added, and
will still further
disguise the
origin of the


-i~4~I N~


" I '11 sweep your room, Miss Mary Ann,
And keep it neat and clean.
I '11 do the very best I can,
Although I be quite green."

"I am de jolly waiter-gal
Who rings de bell for tea.
I 's brought you here a plate ob jam
As nice as nice can be "


The portrait of Lady Washington on a silver-
certificate, may be utilized as the head of one
doll. Fold the bill very neatly, and stitch it so
lightly to the pasteboard body that it can be
removed without damage. A mob-cap of white
tissue-paper, trimmed and tied with very narrow
ribbon, will conceal the back of the head, and
the rest of the dress should be in Colonial"
style (see No. 3).
Silver dollars may also be used (see No. I,
where the waiter-girl holds one). It is inserted
into a slit in the pasteboard and represents a silver
salver. On this may be fastened an ordinary
china button, and, with a drop of sealing wax in

" Take off my cap,- cut off my head
Just underneath my collar !
Although you would not think it,
'T is worth a silver dollar "

7--n j

.' -'



Or, using the eagle side of your coin, you illustrations was given last Christmas by two children
may give it, as an emblazoned shield, to a knight, to their aunties. With the accompanying doggerel
gayly equipped in plate-armor of silvered paper, lines, they created much amusement. Other
while feathers plucked from your pillow methods will suggest themselves to
stream from his helmet like the plume our young workers. It is sometimes
of Navarre. well to consider the tastes or fancies
The set of dolls represented in our of the recipient in preparing the gift.

'w P.:
i '.t~

V. VI.

"I 's heard dat dis kind family
Has brought up lots of chil'-
I's come to nuss 'em for you;
You '11 find me kind and

" I am a proud Knight-Templar,
As you can plainly see,
And none but one more brave
Than I,
Can take my shield from me."

" I 'm sure you 're glad to see
Hard-featured though I be;
And if youwishto cut me up,
Why, take the Liberty."

ELL me, little bird,
You stay when the
snow is here?
Have you not wings to
To some happier at-
mosphere ?

" I love the wild dance
of the snow,
And the berries, frosty
and red;

Why should I hasten to go,
When here is my daily bread?

" And if my notes are but few,
When you think of the thrush and the jay,
What can a little bird do,
But sing on through the storm, as he may?

" Chickadee-dee-dee-dee,'
Perhaps some one is glad to hear
Just this frolic whistle from me
In the songless time of the year."



--.., "-.-
"'- 4

pI hy1 s
^, ^,


n J-'

W .-?.:


READERS of ST. NICHOLAS who are members of "The King's
Daughters," and all who are interested in Mrs. Alice Wellington
Rollins's paper in our issue for January, 1887, will be glad to know
that the Society has lately begun the publication of an official organ
called "The Silver Cross." This periodical is issued under the aus-
pices of the Central Council of" The King's Daughters," and all
communications concerning it may be addressed to Mrs. M. L.
Dickinson, 230 West 59th St., New York City.

EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS: I have just finished reading Mrs. H.
P. Handy's "True Story of a Dakota Blizzard." I have lived in
Dakota nearly four years and would like to correct one or two of her
statements. She is much mistaken about how much snow falls here
during the winter. We have a great deal more than falls in Mis-
souri. We had over three feet of snow last winter, and still more
falls in the southern part of Dakota. I live only forty miles from Devil's
Lake, so of course there is no difference in the snowfall there and
here. Then again, blizzards very seldom or never (and they never
have in my experience) come up very suddenly. It begins blowing
and gradually grows worse until you can not see any distance,
scarcely, and during that time people had better keep in the house
and not risk their lives for the sake of attending to the stock, for it
does not stay so bad very long. I have seen many blizzards, and only
twice, and but for a few minutes then, it was so thick that we could
not see our barn. It is strange every one writes about the terrible
Dakota blizzards, and the few people lost in them, and never seem
to think that in their own States there are six or seven sunstrokes a
day during the summer. I don't mean to say we have no bad blizzards
here; but people who have been here and are wise have things so pre-
pared that when one comes they do not have to go out in them.
Hoping these remarks may remove a wrong impression some have
entertained, I remain, Yours respectfully, B. A-.

EDITOR ST. NICHOLAS: In the story entitled "What Dora
Did," published in the September number of your delightful maga-
zine, the opening paragraphs contain what purports to be a description
ofa Dakota blizzard. As the writer was not herself an eye-witness,
merely giving the testimony of another, and her statements are not
in accordance with the facts, I ask the privilege of correcting them.
A blizzard is indeed a high wind that sweeps over the treeless
prairies of the North-west, but it does not bring with it a "shower
or fog of ice." If there is snow oni the ground it is taken up and
whirled about by the wind, as it is very dry, entirely unlike the
damp, heavy snow that falls in the Eastern States, and it requires
but a short time for the air to become filled with the flying par-
ticles. If there was no snow on the ground there would be none
in the air, and the blizzard would lose its terrors if those com-
pelled to face it were warmly clothed. The statement that "owing
to the extreme cold very little snow falls in Dakota" is also erroneous.
The last two winters have been extremely severe in this latitude, and
the snowfall each season as heavy as has been known since the coun-
try was opened for settlement. Indeed, the winters when very little
snow falls are the exception, not the rule, fortunately for the coun-
try. During the cold season it is much more comfortable as well
as pleasanter to move around in sleighs than in wheeled vehicles,
and when the spring thaw comes the ground absorbs the melting
snow and insures conditions suitable for seeding.
A genuine blizzard is of very rare occurrence in this latitude.
During the four years of my residence here I have never known
but one; that was on the 12th of January, 1888, and lasted but a few
hours. There were no lives lost in this or the adjoining counties
of Dakota or Minnesota, and the storm hardly deserves mention be-
side the death-dealing wind that swept over Southern Dakota, Iowa,
and Nebraska on that terrible day.
If any reader of ST. NICHOLAS wishes to visit Northern Dakota,
even in the winter, I assure him he need not be prevented by fear
of the "icy fog that comes sweeping down from Behring Strait," as,
did that far-off locality originate such a phenomenon, its force would
be so far spent in sweeping over Alaska and British America there
would be very little left to expend upon Dakota. M. N. H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Though we have taken you for several
years none of us have ever written to you before. I think that
" Little Lord Fauntleroy" is the nicest story I ever read, and every
one that I know that has read it agrees with me. "Donald and
Dorothy," "His One Fault," and "Juan and Juanita" are also
among my favorites. I was very much interested in the paper
about "The Rocking-Stone of Tandil," that appeared in the March
number of this year, because I was born in the Argentine Republic,
in the.town of Buenos Ayres, and though I never saw the stone
itself, 1 have heard a great deal about it. The Gaucho chief,
Rosas by name, was afterward elected President of Buenos Ayres.
At first he ruled well, but afterward became a great tyrant. All
the natives were compelled to wear red waistcoats; if they refused
they were buried in the earth with only their heads sticking out,
and then spears and daggers were thrown at them. Rosas after-
ward died in :I ,...I We came here about five months ago from
Buenos Ayres i : ere exactly four weeks on the voyage. I
have four brothers and two sisters, and I am the eldest girl, but have
one brother older than myself. Most of your readers will be sur-
prised to hear that I have never seen snow, there being no such
thing in Buenos Ayres. I should like very much to correspond
with a girl of my own age in some foreign land. I hope one of
your readers will write to me and tell me something about the land
she lives in, and I in return will tell her about Buenos Ayres and
I am thirteen years old and rather small for my age. We have been
having holidays, but to-morrow we begin school again. I hope my
letter will be printed, as I have never written to you before, and I
have never seen any letters from Karlsruhe in your pages.
Your constant reader, ELINOR COOPER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am little Portuguese girl, five years old.
I have taken you for three months,-since I came from Lisbon,-
and I love you already very, very much.
I have a pet, a dear little animal called Aoutas." We are four
little friends who live in a park. We eat heaps of bonbons, but we
devour you with still more pleasure. RISiE,
A small girl.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you, with the thousands
who do so constantly, what a blessing you have been in our home.
We all love you, but you seem most especially to belong to our
Queenie (my sister Faye), who for several years has not been able
to leave her throne-chair, except for her bed at night. She is a
prisoner in her own palace, which is our country home, where she is
shut up with flowers and books and all beautiful things that may he
brought to her. She is anxious for me to write to you and tell you
how you have made so many hours of her imprisonment bright,
how you have given her glimpses of the great world of which
she has seen so little, and how you have made her forget pain
by your charming pictures and stories. She has many friends who
visit her -some whom she has never seen sending her gifts and
greetings from afar; but of them all none are more faithful to her
than you.
Perhaps your boys and girls may like to know how a little country
girl may be a Queen whose subjects bow before her almost wor-
shiping. Her scepters are love and patience, and they rule all
who know her.
I am most of the year in the bright, growing city of Grand
Rapids, where I have a large circle of child acquaintances who
share my admiration for ST. NICHOLAS. For them I send you
greeting, as well as for our little Queen, and for myself, her
faithful subject. I am, dear SAINT,
Yours sincerely, MYRTLE K--

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Buddie Holt, of Spuyten Duyvil, New
York City, who has sent two letters to you, this morning sat in
bed thinking out an improvement on a riddle that was in the ST.


NICHOLAS. His is: "Blue is red, and red is gray. The blue flame
of a coal fire which first comes, is the answer for blue; the red flame
which comes second, is the answer for red; and the smoke is the
answer for the gray.
As Buddie is only seven years old, I think this is well worth send-
ing, the answer being quite amusing. Buddie wants to send the child
who guesses the riddle a scrap-book he will make. I am his cousin,
and he is my little pet. I see him every day.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I inclose a copy of a letter from Charles
I. to Mr. Hyde. It was intercepted by Cromwell, and is said to
have been deciphered by Milton, then Latin Secretary to the Pro-
tector. Perhaps your intelligent little readers may like to puzzle
their heads over it. The truth is that though an ingenious contriv-
ance it is not a difficult one to see through. I give the explanation
below. Very truly yours, J. M. C- .

n i a m r e g t n i a s o



S h
p i
P h
s t

ooymohw 0



t n
I t
u h
d e
ni b

c y
11 i w d n a h t u

t e c n e h t
e n
o a
n e
p c
i n


er ac e k


i g e
e i1
m k r
: h a
t S.
e c
erf e
r e
h k
w t a
y s i h h c t a w t

Explanation: C. S. K. 0. E. Charles Stuart, King of England
S. r lower right corner and read upward and across to
diagonally opposite corner. Then from lower right corner across
bottom and up to diagonally opposite corner. Begin again at same
point, read diagonally upward, and down the other diagonal. Then
from the bottom of the vertical cross line up, and from the right of
the transverse line across.
Take Charles to France and thence to Saint Germain. Watch
**, ...j will. Conduct him to the Sieur Lerons. The French
'" ,)ply you. Have an eye on spies. Set guards on the
S .r.: .ne in this cypher. Take care whom you send."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We, as a society of girls, send you many
thanks for the comfort and help you have been to us.
We have named our society the "L. M. A." in honor of Miss
Louisa M. Alcott; and as many of her stories have appeared in the
ST. NICHOLAS, we thought perhaps the ST. NICHOLAS boys and
girls would like to hear about one more of the many ways that have
heen devised to honor her memory.
We meet every Thursday afternoon to read her books, and glean
from them some of the good things that may help us in our after-life.
We remain, your interested readers,
KATIE K-, President,
BELLE T-, Vice-President,
JULIA R-, Secretary.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have at last come to the conclusion that
Must write to you and tell you what old friends we are. The ST.
NICHOLAs and I were born the same year, and I have taken it since.
As s"on as the year is up, Papa has the books bound for me. I have
them all complete. I wonder if any other little reader of the ST.
NICHOLAS can say the same thing. I enjoy them so much and hail
'ith delight the coming of my friend each month. How I did en-
joy Little Lord Fauntleroy" and Sara Crewe What sorrow
came to my heart when we had to part with Miss Alcott! We all

enjoyed her stories so much, and I do so long to be as good and
true a woman. Before I bid you good-bye I must tell you about
my horse "Nellie." Papa gave her to me on my birthday, and I think
she i? very intelligent. She upset the pail of water in her feed-box
and it interfered with her. What did she do but take hold of the
handle with her teeth, lift out the pail, and place it on the floor of her
stall. After drinking the waterand emptying her box she deliberately
lifted the pail up by the handle and put it back into the box. She
had never been taught such a trick. "Nellie" and the ST. NICHOLAS
are my own especial property. I am very proud of them.
Your little friend, LILIAN H. H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you about the
crow our teacher brought to school. Well, the crow's names "Jim."
"Jim" eats hard-boiled eggs, and sometimes little pieces of meat.
Sometimes "Jim is bad and flies around the room, so he had to have
his wings clipped. Our teacher got "Jim in the country. Her name
is Miss Elmendorf. She is a nice teacher, and the crow likes her.
The crow likes children very much.
Your little friend, ToM H--
Nine years old.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little French girl, and a great
admirer of your beautiful magazine, which I receive since three
We are, my sister and I, very fond of all that is American.
We make photographs. All our outfits were sent from New York.
We presently study the Russian and German languages. We
learned English when babies, with an American governess.
We are subscribers to three magazines from New York: ST.
NICHOLAS, "The Century," and the Photographic Times." We
read very much English not to forget it.
I have a little Pomeranian dog, just like Mr. Savage Landor's. It
is very nice; it brings father's pipe every day after luncheon.
I shall go to America when I am tall. I will not forget to payyou
a visit, and to tell you how we enjoyed your beautiful stories.
I hope you shall have the kindness to print my letter, for I would
be very proud to see it in the columns of your delightful magazine.
Your truly little friend, JUANITA.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have taken you for a long time, and my
sister took you when you first came out. I know twelve children
that take you. I think that the story of "Two Little Confederates"
is lovely. I went to the circus in Syracuse, N. Y., this summer and
saw a pony jump through a hoop that was on fire, and saw a dog
dance jigs and turn somersaults.
I have no pets; I do not like any animals excepting horses and
dogs. My sister is very fond of dolls. She used to have sixteen;
now she has only eight. Once she had a large wax doll, and she
dropped it and cracked its head open; and as the cook was making
bread, Mamma sent down for some dough to stick it together.
When the dough was brought up, she stuffed the doll's head with
it and closed up the crack. But the next morning we found a large
French roll spread all over the doll's head. Of course the dough had
risen during the night and squeezed its way out through the crack.
Good-bye. Your interested reader, CLARA E- .



WHAT is a rainy-day bag ? It is one of the most useful articles
that I ever spent a long summer's day in making. It is nothing
more nor less than a linen traveling-bag, but very much smaller
than those commonly seen. The large traveling-bags will hold all
sorts of shawls and wraps indeed, like a street-car, its capacity
never has been fully tested. But my rainy-day bag is small and is
made to hold nothing more than a waterproof and a pair of over-
And the convenience of it When it looks like rain, one has only
to take this jaunty little bag along, instead of carrying rubbers,
dear knows how and one's waterproof over the arm, or worse still
in one of those misshapen little bags sold with waterproofs.
To make one, it is only necessary to roll your waterproof and
overshoes into a snug oblong parcel of about the same proportions
as a child's muff. Note the dimensions the distance across and
around. The average size will be about fifteen inches around by nine
and one-half in width. This will allow an inch for lapping together;
and three buttons, with good, firm button-holes, should close it. Put
one handle on just outside of the buttons and another just outside of
the button-holes, so that when carrying the bag the tendency will be


to reiev'e ie strain on rIthe hiatton-holes, The end pieces are circu-
1 i four and one-half ilehes in diameter, The bag may
S r .. L-,. Iee dark color is as good.
'i.- -. k r, I I

and i .. 1 .1i Il.- t lex'ii-' t:-. .-il recom-
meind r I. I.. ". may wish i | ...I| I. the little
satchel 1.l I I: .:.. .irked in silk or worsted. Many
S' I ..-, I:.. 1. i ;. a~nmed with worsted dress-braid,
Si.. I .3, too, m akes a ..'-n i i.. r
fI ..I iould e lined hvith burlap or wiggin, I t i 'L -'
I ,. .. :- .~ use.
.. de oneof these .: 1 1. ,.. noothgray
linen, and embruidcred on it, with ,,. '. I -,. in letters
necessarily siiall,
For the rain it raineth every day."
Other appropriate mlottoes would be ;
Heigho I the wind and the rain
The rain a deluge showers."
The dismal rain came down in slanting showers."
Water, water all around."
Here 's to the pilot that weathered the storm."
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky."
No loud storms annoy."
When the stormy winds do blow."

The mottoes may be put on in a slanting direction, as it is not
desirable to have them too legible. An outline picture, worked in
silks, of a little boy or girl under an umbrella, would be pretty.
With one more suggestion I will close. When they are :,;:.
enough, these same rubber-bags sold with waterproofs make ..-
best possible lining for the rainy-day bag.

LiMnocrs, FRANCE.
AIM DEARi ST. NiCHaOLa: 1 have taken your lovely magazine
for three years. A ; -., i... -..-. sends it to me. I doen-
oy the stories so u ..: I Crewe" and "Jun and
Juanita." I was .. i 1. Alcott's death. I think
her stories were 'a '"l. and I know all the little readers of ST.
NTCHAnLA', will miss her. I think your magazine the nicest maga-
2ine I have ever read, and when myn little friends come to see me we
enjoy the pictures s.o much. They can not read English. so I ex-
plain to tlsiem in French. 1 do not like this place very muchi The
people are very -, ".'- :.- ir 1-. .1 ouquets under the windows
'1-- .---- .. I. I -.* day the archbishop care
-. :! 11 rhe people ran up to hiin as he was .-... of
.i i, i .. his rings and hinids. I would rat]'- I : at
in t1l .. -- r- ying ..
.' ; 1. 1, H e is :. n. I 1 ... and i. t.. L '

right But one day he was too smart. My uncle went to the lot
T I L home some hay, and Watch" thought he wanted the
cows, so he brought them. But poor Watch for his trouble had
a good scolding and was told to take then bact V' i...; i1-,i T
NI ., ,..,_. .: .( ; .. 1, I ofevery ..* i.il I .-.i ,
\.,i .-. 'I.. *. julil. ;ader 1.rI ,, 1, _--

DEAn ST. NicAnoLAS: I have taken \.-,, .-i. -l 1.i,.l1 '..',. -.r for
five years, and think .es are i. 1. i -. ..... ad
"Juan and Jua ital -": :2 Lord i ,ii.,l -,..I ara
Crewe r;v favorites. My sister at .1i i I .. i 1. ,1-. c .-, Toed
"Nellie. -l.: i .. r d m kn .. .. i.. I ...all
ver fondofher 1 I:I 1 ..,' i 1 .i.--.i. Jack"
and \ and a little mule. I I. i I. Bunett
would write a ---'1 t, 11 "ttle Lord Fauntleroy," for 1 think all
the readers of : N .. .. must have been very sorry when it
ended. I know I was.
My little brother heard my sister say she intended going to the
dentist, aned lhe r .- ; to have his "hind teeth fixed."
I wonder he' ---. ; hr friends can say this sentence
very fast It has afforded us many hearty laughs. It is: Of all
the saws I ever saw saw, I never saw a saw saw as this saw saws.i
Hoping this letter rwil not stray to the Riddle-box," but safely
reachthe"Ln M-r- .V T .-T,
"-., :.-.. J .-, MARY VIOLET S--

DEAR ST C N C" HO*s: A 7 r ? '-. "
h-t't u got up some shadow ...r..:. I .r '.- '2i i l I:. T.1
1 II *i. of -1 ;- *, .-,:., ,[ d -.. u "" _c E i .lI-1- :;- .T r
and "A L..:--1 L.I WVe were ..-r; -.Tr', .:.t -i
article in ST. NicHOLAS on the subject.
Your sincere friend, ELISE R--

We it.'', c T1-- y fr -,ds whose names are given below for
... I.. ... ,... .. 'c. them : G ... 1! r .: j T- l 1.1. N W .
.. I ,L. .. "!: I '...r H ,, U-..l1 I I HT -7-
.. 1, .I i_ I r i It l

S- ,.;- ::die B. ."' d'le i Aleen L. 'T". -
.J -, *.r-trde n 1 Goddard, l.-. I -
-'.L r -r BI., Clara J ,-i .-' o -
I .l i -. i Gertrude Newhall, Bessie 1.
A 1-. i.- -:ia Allen, LenaA. C.,N. C S..
I.' ii i. i : Taomi Lewis, Bill Jones, A
: r .. L I ... 7. ry, Josie and
i ... 1 -. .' .. .-., r D ., N ina F.
Jacd .. .. 1::. c1 -;. Guassie T.


In the August number of ST. NIsCIHort prize of ten dollars oas offered for dte lest King's ,ove Puzzle" received before September
ist. In response to his invitation, which was extended to all, nearly four hundred puzzles were sent in. They came from all over the
United State, as w ll as from Canada. England, Germany, and e.Te faidtf Rliosa; sad ere based upon the o nmes ,f dhies, ivers,
islands, lake,, generals, battles, Biblical characters, InusioiatLs, musical instoruments sates~cie artists, iaMentora, plants, animals, trees,
games, precious stones, priiters, Roman emperors, soldiers, and sailors.
The prize was to be awarded to the maker of the puzrle best adapted for use n STr. MICHOLAS," After a careful and rigid examin-
tio, of all Lhe puzzles received,- no easy task t the ery best ore was lece adsi will aeppearn rnet lnit lonb's Riddle-Box." For the
best twentyione solutions received to it, teini-oeae fi/zes ci crask wiill ine nfeed.
In the following Roll of Honor the work of each sender had some special menit wthic o e ,ca t nor tie at greater length except in ,e
case of Lida and Sam WIhitaker, whose industry deserves special mention. They forw.uded a puzy;le in which the names orfae tihousan-
and thrc cities and towns might be spelled out

Charles S. Brown --Josephine L. Wiliamson Hlien B. O'Sulliva -Mr. E. D, Ogtde1 8. .,e Lagunaa- Arthur S. LveLioy-
aiamr L. Johnson Eddie A. Blount Helen B. HigBhe E Macdougdalo -S. I --Agats Warburg- M. D, Stering--
F. Lathrop -F. E, Stanton- M. F. Reynolds Jared W. Young S 1z.Ad I.. Fi.lack Anna and Emily Dembitz Anni
B. Kerr Marcus Robbins Ethel Bobo J Mye Clara Ascherfedl -- Mr. a, Mn ASbe C,. Itinter- M. A. E. Word-
bridge A. L Alraham -- Fatnie ad Alice Le earn- A ndrew ohbeson -. .I i .. Cou lie- eajnie Perry -" Dulnmrix "-
Maisy Zogealpho Annie Mcieilly Roe Spaulding Christine L. Boven Grace Feraaid Lily F. A. Melliss- Flizabe tewi--
Helen E. Hoyt.-Beatrice A Auerbach.



CONCEALED AUTHORS. a. Pope, Moore, Scott. 2. Byron, Mil-
ton, Bulwer. 3. Burs, Sheridan, Addison. 4. Stowe, Aldrich,
l1eIcher. 5. Alcott, Burnett, Roe. 6. Southey, Cooper, Cowper.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Baldwin; finals, Neemuch. Cross-
Sords: i. Babylon. 2. Arsinoe. 3. Laodice. 4. Dianium. 5.
mWatteau. 6. Idiotic. 7. Nineveh.
WORD SYNCOPATIONs. Tippecanoe. I. ro-UTE-d. 2. t-RID-
nt. 3. dr-OPS-y. 4. c-APT-ure. 5. k-EEL-ing. 6. pr-ACT-
r.c. 7. s-TAR-ting. 8. w-INK-ing. 9. s-TOP-ped. ro. s-TEA-
CstOaBIATION DIAMONDS. From I to 2, receipt changing; from
-3 -i unter-charming. I. 1. C. 2. Toe. 3. Trunk. 4. Counter.
6. Key. 7 R. II. i. H. 2. Pas. 3. Porte. 4. Harm-
-'ing. 6. Eng. 7. G. III. R. 2. Led. 3. Laces.
: Deity. 6. Spy. 7. T. IV. i. H. 2. Daw. 3.
DLinee. 4. Hanging. 5. Weird, 6. End. 7. G.
AENTRAL ACROSTIC. Terpsichore. Cross-words: i. Titan. 2.
:ete. 3. Ceres. 4. Cupid. 5. Vesta. 6. Priam. 7. Picus. 8.
Iphis. o. Thoas. ao. Terra. xi. Irene.
STAR PUZZLE. From i to 2, parades; I to 3, palaver; 2 to 3,
.id'er; 4 to 5, curdled; 4 to 6, cuddles; 5 to 6, devoirs.

ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG. Washington Allston. Cross-words: s.
Wheel. 2. bAton. 3. baSin. 4. nicHe. 5. alibi. 6. proNg. 7.
waGon. 8. aTlas. 9. Olive. 20. aNgle I.. plAte. 22. sheLl.
13. coraL. 14.a. k. 15. miTre. A6. mOuse. x7. Notes.
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Stones. 2. Tyrant. 3. Orange. 4. Nan-
nie. 5. Engird. 6. Steeds. II. i. Grates. 2. Relent. 3. Alpaca.
4. Teapot. 5. Encore. 6. States.
SEPARATED WORDS. First row, Giving thanks; second row,
Old homestead. i. Gash-Older. 2. Idea-List. 3. Vale-Diction. 4.
Inn-Holder. 5. Nest-Or. 6. Gowns-Man. 7. Tight-Ens. 8. Hand-
Spike. 9. Aver-Ted. n1. Not-Ed. xI. Key-Age. 12. Sun-Dry.
WORD-BUILDING. A, al, lac, coal, coral, oracle, coracle, caracole.
COMBINATION PUZZLE. From I to 2, compassionate; 3 to 4, dis-
passionate; i to 3, cerated; 3 to 2, deplore; I to 4, collate; 4 to 2,
emulate. Inclosed Diamond: .. P. 2. Map. 3. Mason. 4. Pas-
sion. 5. Poise. 6. Noe. 7. N.
PI. No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease-
No comfortable feel in any member-
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November. THOMAS HOOD.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the x5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September i5th, from Maud E. Palmer-
Sm rly and Leppy Paul Reese -Grace Kupfer- May L. Gerrish- Clara 0. -Louise Jngham Adams -A. L. K. G. S. Russell
ais- H. W. Ruggles-Pearl F. Stevens -Ada C. H. M. Josephine Sherwood -" San Anselmo Valley "-J. Wallie Thompson -
Ir'd and Blanch- Aunt Kate, Mamma and Jamie-Nellie L. Howes- Mary W. Stone Carryl Harper-" My wife and I "- Helen
C. McCleary Mohawk Valley "- "Nig and Mig"- Ida C. Thallon Alpha Zeta.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 15th, from G. Shepard and R. and C.
Wiili, i- J. A. Smith, i- Minnie, Fannie, and Katie, 4- M. H. B. and B. T. S., i- K. L. Segernd, -" Eureka," 4- B. Magee,
--- 'i~i..:: -Jean W., I -Bessie Byfield, 3 -J. Berry, 3 E. R. Cutter, M. King, I N. Husted, 9--"Long Islander,"
-' i 7-G. Styer, F. E. Hecht, C. W. Miles, I -E. Norris and B. Verdenal, 3-R. L. Barrows, --J. I. H.,
I-- .--. -Jentie Y., 6- H. Justice, I--M. F. Davis, I--J. M. Fiske, 4- Hildegarde Hawthorne, 3--Zoe H., "Pan-
don," 8 Brittingham, Jr., I--Minerva, Jessamine, and Pansy, E. B. C., Jr., 2-M. Markham, I--J. and N. H., i -
S. 3-A. E. Wix, 2- Ford Wadsworth, i C. A. Studebaker, a- Etta Reilly, 3 -" Miss Ouri," 2 L. S. Palmer, r -
S- M., M. and E. Stone, i A. S. Parsons, I Bill Jones, 4 R. H., 9 H. W. H., i E. Karst, i L. Voigt, i B.
L. Mahaff, H. E. Mattison, 2 -" Three Readers," 4-" Roxy,"i -" We, Us & Co.," i -R6nl 2 W. B., I C. N. Cochrane,
3 --. A. Jurgens, Grandma,"io A. E. Burnham, 2 -" Two Little Sisters," 9 Julia L. B., 2 -Gracie F., i -" The Reids,"
1 -"Joker," 2 -S. K. Halt, 6 -"Jo and I," Ix -" Kettle-drum and Patty-pan," 3- Lehte." x Colonel and Reg, 5 Alfred
anI Maamma, 3 Florence and Louie C., i Mamma, Susie, and Annie, 9 -" Gruoch," 5 J. Hardenburg, 2-" The Trio," 9 -
i-. R. Dunham, 2 -" Lillie," 5 --Tom, i -" May and 79," zo -Mattie E. Beale, 4 -Jack and Kittley, 3 --Jennie, Mina, and Isabel,
S-- Northern Lights," 2-May and Nettie P., i-- Ida and Alice, to A. M. Osbom, Laura G. L., 4 M. B. and 0. E., 5-
E'i K. Talboys, 5 -" Hypatia," 2 -A. L. McKean, I N. Beardslee, A. Forrester, 3 Walker L. Otis, 4 B. McCormack, I
-N. L. Forsyth, i-Tilly G. Davis, i.

INSERTIONS. 6. Representing sounds. 7. A serpent. 8. A tropical tree, the
fruit of which is a substitute for bread. 9. Days exempt from work.
EXAMtPLE : Insert a letter in idle talk, and make a fraud. Answer, I0. Associates.
ch-a-at. The zigzags from I to 1o will spell the patron saint of childhood,
1. Insert a letter in a masculine name, and make a small, rude whose festival occurs on December sixth; from 1i to 20, a name
houe. 2. Insert a letter in a possessive pronoun, and make heeds, sometimes given to the four weeks before Christmas. F. v.
3. insert a letter in reserve, and make a healing compound. 4. Insert
a tter in pertaining to wings, and make a sacred place. 5. Insert ANAGIAlAIS.
S t t ga s, and make tooos c. 6. Iert a lette certain averages THE letters in each of the following sentences may be transposed

ana make succulent plants. 8. Insert a letter in domestic animals, so as to form a single word.
,:d make vehicles. 9. Insert a letter in to crowd, and make a rich i. Men eat girls. 2. Neat boy. 3. Neat girl. 4- Satin n a
tin star tub. 5. Made in pint pots. 6. I love. 7. Fatbakers. 8. Seal
Asserted letters will spell the name of a city of the United soup. 9. Cart horse. L. S. P.
DOUBLE ZIGZAG. I. IN pearly. a. A vine. 3. A coin. 4. An insect. 5. In
pearly. II. 1. In pearly. 2. A small dwelling-house. 3. Majes-
S. I tic. 4. Alight blow. 5. In pearly.
S2 x2 The two central words, when read in connection, will name an
aromatic herb. w. H.

S 3 13 -
4 14
5 I5 -
S 6 6 .
7 27 .
i8 .
S 9 19 .
10 20

S. ",' i. A beetle. 2. Driven aground. 3. A sweet-
e. 4. Having the form of fingers. 5. Cowardly.

I. SYNCOPATE a low, heavy sound, and leave a Russian coin. 2. Syn-
copate the act of rising out of any enveloping substance, and leave
an American philosopher. 3. Syncopate a prayer, and leave a bright
constellation. 4. Syncopate a platform, and leave a philosopher.
5. Syncopate a blaze, and leave renown. 6. Syncopate to defraud,
and leave idle talk. 7. Syncopate to assemble, and leave an absent-
minded person. 8. Syncopate a track, and leave an imprecation.
9. Syncopate to manage, and leave savage.
The syncopated letters spell the name of a plant regarded with
superstition by the Druids. DYCIE.


: ... -~--=--== :-i- r- ... .

,,)) ,' I. i ^ '." _".. ^ ; v 7


S I 't j'. ^'I THE answer to this enigma consists of ninety-seven letters, and is
San original stanza of four lines; the lines end respectively on figures
Stwenty-three, forty-seven, seventy-one, and ninety-seven. In the last
line (in figures from seventy-two to eighty-eight inclusive) will be
found a new proverb of three words. All of the objects described
are pictured in the accompanying illustration.
My 5-8-7 is a short poem; transposed, a fleet wild animal im-
mortalized by Wordsworth. My 6-3-12-20 ushered in the first
Christmas; transposed, sailors. My 26-14-24-2 is a water-bird;
transposed, parts of a sheaf of grain. My 58-1-8-10-39 are a help
for birds to rise; transposed, a help for children to rise. My 40-33-
31-4-9-6 is a curious flower; transposed, a company of singers.
My 6-32-44-16-19 is a low tree; transposed, a household utensil.
My 38-39-49-27-2 is a tree; transposed, may be found in every win-
dow. My 6-36-48-37-43-22 is part of a flower; transposed, catkins.
My 17-53-II-5x-46 is an acid fruit; transposed, a sweet fruit. Myy73-
50-74-62-57-54-66 is an outdoor game; transposed, a fruit. My 52-
5-79-3o-71-94 is a flower; transposed, a sacred mountain. My 76-
12-85-65 is a healing substance; transposed, a young animal. My
39-38-61-31-68-77-17 is a useful article in traveling; transposed,
fastenings. My 39-25-80-28 may be seen at the sea-side; trans-
posed, may be seen in winter. My 92-13-56-47 is an emblem of
eternity; transposed, an undesirable expression. My 90-21-87-81
( is a trailing plant; transposed, part of a leaf. My 55-67-29-34-64
is an animal; transposed, an engraver's tool. My 94-45-85-83-6 are
plates of baked clay; transposed, steps. My 59-15-30-72 is a wild
animal; transposed, a domestic bird. My x7-84-38-4:1 s part of a
C C- C plant; transposed, an insect. My 31-15-60-64 is a piece of money;
transposed, a shoot of a plant. My 20-63-42-17-89 is a weapon;
transposed, what a bird is. My 35-87-86-49-91 is a game bird;
,7- transposed, certain trees. My 78-44-95-2-88-97 is a kind of trim-
ming; transposed, part of the hand. My x7-38-96-49 is an illumi-
nator; transposed, a tree. My 17-40-38-82 is found at the baker's;
transposed, a young animal. My 70, 93, 23, 69, 75 are letters which
may be found in the picture. j. P. B.
SOH, second, please do bring myfirst
From where I left it on the table;
-'- We 'If third and see my whole, for here
In Spain is where it 's fashionable.
E. W. c.
bMy primals name a festal time, and my finals something which
abounds at that time.
CROSS-WORDS: i. A projection on awheel. 2. A collector. 3. A
famous warrior in Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered." 4. Modulated.
S5. Luxurious. 6. A semaphore 7. An error. 8. A feminine name.
9. A title of deference-.
When these have been rightly guessed, and placed one below the
other, the central letters may be transposed so as to form two words.



University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs