• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Grandpapa's coat
 Louis the resolute
 How a battle is sketched
 Eight-day clocks
 Yoshi Hito, Haru no Miya, the child...
 How I play with my dollies
 How Polly and Peter keep house
 Among the Florida Keys
 Small and early
 On the farm
 Laetitia and the redcoats
 Love
 Not a fair game
 A matter of taste
 A narrow escape
 Fishing in the seine
 How Mattie went to a meeting, and...
 The bunny stories
 Tiger
 Sketches at the dog show
 From our scrap-book
 Soap-bubbles
 Mermaids and their pets (Illus...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00215
 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
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00215
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Grandpapa's coat
        Page 643
        Page 644
        Page 645
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
    Louis the resolute
        Page 653
        Page 654
        Page 655
        Page 656
        Page 657
        Page 658
        Page 659
        Page 660
    How a battle is sketched
        Page 661
        Page 662
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
    Eight-day clocks
        Page 668
    Yoshi Hito, Haru no Miya, the child of modern Japan
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
    How I play with my dollies
        Page 669
    How Polly and Peter keep house
        Page 673
    Among the Florida Keys
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
        Page 683
    Small and early
        Page 684
        Page 685
    On the farm
        Page 686
    Laetitia and the redcoats
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
    Love
        Page 690
    Not a fair game
        Page 691
    A matter of taste
        Page 692
    A narrow escape
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
    Fishing in the seine
        Page 696
        Page 697
    How Mattie went to a meeting, and what came of it
        Page 698
        Page 699
        Page 700
        Page 701
        Page 702
        Page 703
    The bunny stories
        Page 704
        Page 705
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
    Tiger
        Page 710
    Sketches at the dog show
        Page 711
    From our scrap-book
        Page 712
        Page 713
    Soap-bubbles
        Page 714
        Page 715
    Mermaids and their pets (Illustration)
        Page 716
    The letter-box
        Page 717
        Page 718
    The riddle-box
        Page 719
        Page 720
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text














































































"OFF WE SET IN THE GREAT COACH."
(SEE STORY, GRANDPAPA'S COAT," P. 650.)















ST. NICHOLAS.


JULY, 1889.


No. 9.


gRANPPAPA,5




r


[CONCERNING which Mrs. Clarissa Hardwick
relates as follows, to certain youthful listeners, on
the 4th of July, 1831] :

You 'VE all heard, me talk often enough about
my sister Nancy, and about Hardwick's Choice -
the place where we two lived when we were little,
with our Grandpapa Hardwick. 'T was a great
estate of ten thousand acres or so, as good ground
as any in all Maryland. And a fine old house it
was, too, that we lived in, built after the old-fash-
ioned plan in Grandpapa's father's time, out of
bricks that came all the way across from England.
We 'd all the space we wanted in our big hall, to
play at graces, or go over one's dancing steps on
a cold rainy day, with plenty of elbow-room for
everybody, upstairs and down,-though, for that
matter, 't was more than Nancy and I durst ever
do, I promise you, to stick out our elbows when
Mrs. Becky was round. Then, besides, for sum-
mer we had the finest spreading shade-trees and
rose-hedges, and the pleasantest garden in all
those parts,-or in the whole world, according to
our notion Everything, inside the house and out,
was always well tended and in best order, for


Grandpapa Hardwick was mighty particular in
that respect. All must be just so, to please him;
and Mrs. Becky was ever on the lookout to keep
things straight.
Nancy and I had lived there all our lives, being
no more than babies- both of us--when our
mother and father died. We 'd neither aunts nor
uncles, nor first-cousins, for you see our father
was Grandpapa Hardwick's only child (excepting
Uncle Roger, who was drowned going across the
ocean to school in France), and our mamma never
had any brothers nor sisters either. So as to elders
and betters, there was nobody belonging to us but
Grandpapa and Mrs. Becky. She was some far
kin to Grandpapa, though we never called her
cousin,-just Mrs. Becky, as did 'most everybody
else. Mrs. Becky Binns was her name, and she
had been housekeeper at Hardwick's Choice ever
since her husband died, long before our papa was
married. A good soul and a very deserving woman,
too, for all she was a trifle melancholic and given
to the vapors sometimes; but then, as she often
said, she 'd been through a deal of trouble in her
young days, and there .was no telling but what
worse might happen yet before she died. How-
ever, she was very good to Nancy and me, and we
set great store by her, in our turn. Besides the
housekeeping she taught us our lessons,-read-
ing, writing, and figures,- as far as her knowledge
went; but Mrs. Becky did n't set up to be very
book-learnt, and she used to call it a crying shame
that Grandpapa would never have masters for us
in French and music; but Grandpapa only said
"Pooh, pooh! that we would .know what was
needful for our sex, and more. He wanted no fine
ladies about him, he said; and as for our tinkle-
tinkling on the spinet from morning till night,
't would certainly give him St. Vitus's dance to


Copyright, 1889, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.
643


VOL. XVI.






GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


hear it. He was very kind, for all that, and fond
of us in his way, though we knew well enough he
must be obeyed no less. When he said Clarissa!"
or "Ariana in his short, sharp tone, we were
quick to mind our manners, I can tell you. In-
deed, nobody could ever have guessed by listening
that my christened name was Clarissa Harlowe,
or Nancy's, Ariana, if Grandpapa had n't been
vexed with us now and then. They always called
me Cis, in those days, which did well enough for a
little brown thing like me. As for "Nancy,"
there 's nothing prettier than that, and nobody
could ever think of my Nancy, I 'm sure, by any
long, dismal title. She was just as pretty as her
every-day name, and quick-witted, with the win-
ningest ways, such as always made her peace when
she chose, after any prank of mischief. We were
different as could be in looks, she and I -even her
hair was as short and curly all over her head as
mine was long and straight; and it shows how apt
people are to be discontent with what nature gives
'em that Nancy used to be always combing and
combing her hair out smooth, and I a-trying, con-
trariwise, to make mine curl..
All the time that Nancy and I were good big
children the war with England-what you now
call the Revolution was going on; and as
Grandpapa was very warm for American inde-
pendence, as well as all our neighbors and friends
on the same side, why we thought and heard
enough of it at Hardwick's Choice. It seemed to
me, when I was turned twelve years old, or there-
about, that there -had been nothing but war,
war, all my life long and so it well-nigh was, to
be sure. Almost the very first thing that I re-
member was poor Mrs. Becky bemoaning the
want of her tea, and all the talk and hubbub of
that matter. The patriotic folks, like Grandpapa
Hardwick, would n't have tasted a drop for any-
thing in this world; but as for Mrs. Becky, I
reckon 't was as Grandpapa said in his sarcastical
way. He said that he believed truly one-half the
women on earth, gentle and simple, high and
low, all the same, would sooner choose their tea-
pot even with a tempest inside of it than the freest
country sun ever shone on with peace and
plenty, to boot. He 'd a mighty keen, sarcastical
way with him, sometimes, had Grandpapa, and
when he took on that tone, and tapped his silver
snuff-box so sharp and quick with his fore-
finger, why then 't was never anything but "Ay,
sir with Mrs. Becky, and her best curtsy be-
Ssides; but she grumbled not a bit less behind his
back. Many's the time I 've heard her wish for
one of those chests of good tea that the Boston
people emptied into the water, and it did seem a
sinful waste, maybe to more than one poor old


peaceable body, who loved their comforting strong
dish nowand again, avast dealmore than they hated
King George. I was right sorry for Mrs. Becky,
drinking her raspberry-leaf tea with a wry face -
just for the name of tea, I do believe, and because
she 'd have something hot enough to pour out in
her saucer; but as for Nancy and me, we wanted
nothing better than good cow's-milk, and Grand-
papa drank the same with a sharp dash of brandy,
'most always, to keep the coldness of it from hurting
his stomach.
So after that, it was the Boston port-bill fore-
most on the tapis (as French folks say) and then
the battle of Lexington; after which it seemed
that amongst Grandpapa and his friends nothing
was talked of but fighting, and raising troops, and
arming men -with such warlike consultations,
day in and out. Everybody knew, from Bunker
Hill on, that war was fairly begun; and so it con-
tinued, till presently, when I was quite a sizable
little girl and old enough to remember plain, came
the Declaration of Independence at Philadelphia.
Grandpapa Hardwick was in the best of humors,
I promise you, when he heard that great news,
and would have us all, big and little, drink success
to the new government and confusion to its en-
emies, in his best Tokay wine. And so we did;
only Mrs. Becky, for all she could not refuse the
toast, was very low-spirited and shook her head
dismally, saying she hoped Grandpapa's cousin,
Mr. Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, and the other
gentlemen with him in this business might come
off better than the rebels in Virginia a hundred
years ago, who were all hanged up in chains for
pretty much the same thing--as she 'd many a
time heard her grandfather tell of seeing with
his own eyes when he was a little lad. To that
Grandpapa said that a hundred years made a vast
deal of difference in what might be dared,-ay!
and done, too; and when Mrs. Becky, sighing in a
doleful way, said 't was a sad risk besides being
beyond Scripture, no less to turn against the
king, why then Grandpapa cried out loud till it
made everybody fairly jump, "The King! Zounds,
madame what king ? and by what right and title ?
The true king was chased out of Scotland with a
price on his head, this thirty years ago. I '11 be
hanged if I know what's become of him says
Grandpapa, and if I owe any faith to a set of in-
terloping Dutchmen, I 'm a Dutchman myself! "
Then, as for Mrs. Becky, she just said, "Ay, sir,"
with never another word. I was too little to know
the meaning of it all, that time, but I found out
after a while when I learnt to read all about Prince
Charlie and the battle of Culloden, and under-
stood how 't was that Grandpapa Hardwick nat-
urally turned from a Jacobite into a fiery, hot


644


[JULY,






GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


republican. Folks say that extremes meet, and I
reckon that was the way of it, pretty much, with
him, as well as with many more old cavalier settlers
in Maryland and Virginia. So after that the war
went on, with a mighty talk, and telling of this
battle or that, and of General George Washington,
and the fine, gallant Marquis Lafayette, with those
other Frenchmen that came under him to help the
good cause of freedom. True, we saw no more of
'em at Hardwick's Choice than we did of the red-
coats on t' other side-nor anything of sure-enough
war; for 'twas an out-o'-waypart of the country from
any fighting. I 've set more store by the blessing
of that since being an old woman than Nancy and
I did then. 'We used to grieve mightily about it,
after we got old enough to take an interest; but if
we did n't see much of the great goings-on we heard
a plenty.. There were several neighbor old gen-
tlemen who, like Grandpapa, were past their fight-
ing strength, so stayed at home and sent money
instead; and never a day passed that one or
another did n't fetch something to talk about with
Grandpapa over his wine in the big dining-room.
'T was Squire Parley, or Captain Puffanblow, or
old Colonel MacGrumble or maybe all three at
once; never thinking of Nancy and me there on
our crickets with our samplers before us, taking
in every word.
Grandpapa gave the most of any, I do believe;
and that, not only in money to the last penny he
could spare, but of everything else besides; and a
busy time that was for everybody on Hardwick
Plantation. There was but little sale for the to-
bacco then; 't was 'most all stored up in the hogs-
heads, year after year, till the war was over, when
a fine price it sold for, to be sure; but there were
many things besides tobacco that we made at
Hardwick. It was a great big estate, kept orderly
running (as was the common custom of those
times) not from without, but inside, in a snug and
sheltered fashion that folks have half forgot the
way of now;a-days. We 'd the best blacksmith, the
best carpenter, the best tanner, at Hardwick's
Choice of all the country-side, as was commonly
Said by everybody, with weavers and shoemakers
good as the best. You see, 't was nothing uncom-
mon before the war for the poorer sort of comers-
over to this country to be sold from the English
ships at the price of their passage-money, for a
certain space of time. It seems a cruel custom to
look back upon, but we never thought so then.
They were called "redemptioners," because they
redeemed their freedom by their labor and good
conduct,- not like the poor blacks, in slavery for-
ever; and some of the very best working tenants
and handicraftsmen on his land had Grandpapa
Hardwick bought in this way from the ships, one


time or another. That showed he was'not' the
hard master that some people would have made
him out, for all a bit sharp-spoken and set in his
ways, else they 'd not have stayed so contentedly
when the service term was done. There they were
when the war came; and very good English work-
ers the most of 'em turned out to be, and pretty
busy Grandpapa kept them, with everybody else,
black and white, in those days. Every now and
then 't would be a cart-load of home-made blank-
ets, and shoes, and rolls of cloth, and warm thick
stockings started off to Annapolis, to be sent. from
there to the soldiers fighting'way off yonder some-
where, under General Washington or somebody.
Spinning the wool was the women's business, and
a vast deal of it to be done. Nancy and I learnt
to spin on the big wheel, and very fine sport we
thought it at first, though after a while, when it
came to a task of so many cuts a day, why, then
maybe we found it no such merry matter. We 'd
our share of the knitting,'too, and Grandpapa was
mightily pleased to see us at it. He used to pat
us on our heads and say, "That's right, that 's
right, my lassies! Knit away! We '11 knit up
this business yet; ay! that will we! let the Brit-
ishers try hard as they please to ravel out our
threads!"
So then we clicked away, with needles fairly
flying, feeling mighty proud, though a man's long
stocking to garter above the knee was no little bit
of work, I can tell you.
Well, the days, weeks, and months passed along
till Nancy was near sixteen and I turned fourteen
years old, both of us grown big girls and up to all
kinds of fun and mischief; but still the war was n't
ended. As I tell you, we 'd heard and talked a
vast deal more of it than we'd ever seen. The
horror and misery of fighting and wounds and
death had all passed us by afar, off yonder. Hard-
wick's Choice was a home worth having, for all
Mrs. Becky's vapors and the master's sharp tongue
now and again. In spite of these, and the spin-
ning and the knitting,* I do think we 'd have lived
happy as the day was long if it had n't been for
Grandpapa's coat. 'T was a brand-new coat,-
and put on for the very first time just that day we
heard of the battle of Lexington,-made out of
the best blue English cloth, with fine gilt buttons.
Such cloth was both scarce and high, later on ; but
I don't think that was Grandpapa's main reason
for wearing the same coat so. long as he did, for,
you see, he might easily have had a whole new
suit of homespun, such as many gentlefolks wore
in those hard times,- even the grand army-officers
themselves,- if he had chosen. But he made a
vow that very first day, like the old-time folks we
read about, with a great pinch of snuff upon it,


iS89.]


645





GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


too, that he 'd wear that same coat, as long as
't would hold together on his-back, till the war was
ended, one way or the other. Maybe it was for
setting the example that he first took up such a
notion; for everybody knew how much he gave
to the good cause, and that his going so, year after
year, was but willing self-denial and nothing else.
If all other rich people had done the like,-wear-
ing the old clothes and giving the new ones to our
brave soldiers,-maybe the war would n't have
lasted as long as it did, nor Grandpapa's blue coat
either. However, there were precious few so much
in earnest as he; so the years went by, and the





4 r/












-


















THE OLD COAT.
coat got worse and worse,- faded and patched and
mean-looking,-whilst all the time Nancy and I
were getting older and more high-notioned, till we
hated the sight of it more every day.
Perhaps we" needed a take-down to our pride,
for we were mightily set up (as was more common


with gentlefolks of those days than now) about
being Hardwicks of Hardwick's Choice, as Mrs.
Becky and all the house-people, white and black,
used to remind us, with a grand air twenty times
a day ever since we could take it in. Then, after
all, 't is only nature the world over, for lassies at
fourteen and sixteen to set store by fine clothes and
the brave looks of things. They 've just got their
eyes open, so to speak, to the outside of this life,
and won't have learnt yet a while to tell the inside
worth, hid maybe often enough under a patched
old coat or frock. So in the matter of Grandpapa's
coat we said to each other that patriotism and self-
denying, and a good example to one's neighbors,
were all very fine things; but we wished all the
same he 'd get a new coat, if only to wear on
Sunday. True, we ourselves were very content
with homespun linsey for every-day, but Mrs.
Becky made out wonderfully for our best frocks
from the great chests of clothes stored away up-
stairs by dear knows how many Hardwick ladies
dead and gone before our time. There were bro-
cade silks and sarcenets, and fine paduasoy petti-
coats, and quilted sacks, and all the best stuffs you
might want, to be turned and made over, a la
mode, for twenty years to come; and very grand
we felt a-rustling in them, like any peacocks, to be
sure,- never knowing till long afterward how un-
suited such were to the likes of our age. But,
dear me dear me what was the use of silks and
satins and shining gold lace (as we used to say in
private to each other) with Grandpapa right beside
us, on Sundays at church, and on Christmas Day
and Easter, and at the dancing-school,-always
dressed in just the same outlandish fashion, year
in and out ? He was a very elegant, high-quality
looking old gentleman, was Grandpapa, and no
mistaking that: straight as a dart and with a
mighty dignified way about him, though not above
a middle height, and very spare in body. I re-
member now how taken aback I was to find out
by chance one day, when I was none so little, either,
that he was not the tallest and biggest man in the
world, as I 'd all along believed. His hair was
white and thick all over his head; his mouth was
tight-shutting and firm, as if made to tell people
what they must do, or must n't; his eyes were
mighty sharp and keen, with a vast many little
wrinkles all round them, specially when he looked
hard at you, and that was right often. But still
there was some times a funny, laughing spark, 'way
down deep inside, and then we knew that we'd
nothing to be afraid of. Nancy and I were proud
enough of him, and fond, too, in such a proper and
respectful way as was then thought seemly in
young folks toward their elders and betters; but
we could n't be proud of the old ragged coat.


646


[JULY,






889.] GRANDPA]

When it first began to break and give 'way at
the elbows, and Grandpapa called on us to mend
it, we were at great pains to match the color of the
cloth and the thread, as well as to hide the stitches
and make all smooth, best fashion. Nancy was
" knowledgeable" and
quick at her needle, as I i
she was with everything I l
else, and I must needs
always have my share at
helping. So, betwixt us,
we put on, that time, two
as pretty patches as you
'd wish to see, so that
even Grandpapa praised
them a heap. But after
a while, when the cloth
wore away into new holes
all round those very
patches, and down the
front and on the shoulders i
besides,- why, then we
were not so careful with
our mending, because (as
Nancy said) the better
the coat was made to look
the longer Grandpapa
would wear it. Moreover,
said she, there was the
old saying that everybody
knew, "Patch by patchis
very good housewifery;
but patch upon patch is
downright beggarly ";
and for all we must do
what Grandpapa told us,
she, for her part, was not
a-going to waste any more 0 II
"stitchery" than she
could help, upon it.
Dear me! I'm afraid
we were two very naughty
girls, as well as uppish and
full of false pride -for
the crooked patches, and
the puckerings, and the
great long stitches we put on that coat, have made
me blush to think of, a many a time since. How-
soever, Grandpapa Hardwick never noticed, at all,
nor took any of those hints. He was n't going to put
his coat in the rag-bag yet a while to please two
fine misses, nor anybody else -not he, I prom-
ise you; so we 'd only the vexation of seeing it look
worse than need have been, after all, besides being
scolded by Mrs. Becky for our carelessness.
Now, it was in the fall of the year 1781, soon
after Nancy's sixteenth birthday, when the dan-


! 'i I'' I ..
THE TWO SISTERS.
time we had of it, too,- war or no war,- and our
master was as elegant a French gentleman as ever
stepped a minuet. His name was Monsieur Tissot,
and he had come to this country with General
Lafayette in the year 1777, to help fight the Brit-
ish. However, at the battle of Monmouth he was
shot and crippled in his right shoulder; so then,
as he said, right wittily we all thought, he laid
down his arms and took to his legs though not
to run away on 'em, either. He was well enough
pleased with America to stay on a while longer.


P


A'S COAT. 647

cing-school ball came off at Folkstown, three miles
from Hardwick's Choice. We'd been going to the
dancing-school a whole year, Nancy and I, along
with the other, girls of that neighborhood and the
boys that were too young for soldiering. A merry





GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


There he came to Folkstown and set up dancing-
school--and a more genteel, courtly-mannered
gentleman never was seen, even at Paris, as Grand-
papa himself said, who had been there and knew.
We met .once a fortnight for our lesson in the
big assembly room at the Folkstown Inn, or Ordi-
nary, as we used to call'it; with all the towns-
people looking on, and country folks besides, as
many as chose to come and see their youngsters
learn the steps-so that, for numbers, 't was'most-
like a public ball every time. No end of fine,
fashionable figures Monsieur taught us, besides
the minuet, with elegant deportment in general,
after the latest court .mode. 'T was heads up and
shoulders down, to.,be sure, and elbows.out of
other people's way'; and as for the.ctirtsy-vwell,
if you want to see: it,.young ladies there now !
If I am an old wortan past sixty, let any of you
show me the like of that. Well, well! it's over
and done now; bjt we 'd 6rne times ;>hlst it lasted.
Nancy and I went always in the coach, with Mrs.
Becky to see after our pretty behaving, and 'most
every time Grandpapa would come, too, on horse-
back, to look on and talk over war news with the
elders, and see us safe home again by eight o'clock.
At last, Monsieur Tissot said he had taught us
all he could. He was going to Annapolis to -open
a grand school for the fine city folks; and so we 'd
invitations out for a sure-enough ball- a grand
parting ball, with half the country, old and young,
bid to it, and a supper, and the best music in all
those parts. Such a talk and a getting ready as there
was! But you can figure it to, yourselves pretty
well, I reckon, for fifty years or so makes no great
odds that I can see in the nature of youngsters.
'T is pretty much the same in every time and coun-
try; but you 've no such contriving and smarten-
ing up of old clothes to keep you busy in these
days, for a seven years' war makes a heap of differ-
ence in the matter of new ribbons ard such settings
off, I can tell you. However, maybe we enjoyed
it none the less for that reason. I know that
Nancy and I had lively enough frolicking over our
finery and preparations; and Mrs. Becky, too, for
all she often said that such doings were downright
sinful waste of time, and balls the old Satan's main
opportunities- why, even Mrs. Becky would have
us looking our best, and herself no less, to boot.
However, we were no little set-back whenever we
thought of Grandpapa wearing the old coat, as we
knew he was going to do. He'd more than one
coat laid by in his great cedar chest-of-drawers
vastly better, though older, than that; but, you see,
there was his vow and the war not over yet; and
as for his wearing any other one now, to please our
notions, weknew't was no use a-looking for any such
thing. And then, to make bad worse, what should


happen on the very morning before the ball, but
Grandpapa must come in from his ride round the
plantation with a great big new rent just burst out
in the back behind, from the collar down to the
waist;
Well, lassies," cries he, loud and lively, like as
if 't was n't anything dreadful at all, "there 's a bit
of work for you, that old Dolly-mare made, cut-
ting up her shines, out yonder just now. Lay by
your bibs and tuckers and make me tight and
whole for your fine ball this evening."
So he offs with it in a hurry, and there we were.
Well, we knew it was no good to say anything,
but we did a deal.of thinking. .We took it away to
ourI own room and spread it on the window-seat
and looked at it. There was hardly a piece of
it body, sleeves, or tails-- that was n't darned
and patched. We had n't been over-particular of
late about matching the colors, so some of the
patches were lighter blue, and some black, and
some brown, sewed with any sort of thread that
came first- a sight to see, and no credit to our
mending, to be sure. Then.'t was shrunk and
fady. My dears such a downright disgraceful
old coat, and another great patch to be set on it
for Grandpapa to wear to -the ball! We looked at
it and we looked hard at one another; then says
Nancy to me, a-stamping her foot, "Cis, if Grand-
papa wears this coat to the ball I '11 stay at home,
I vow." Then I just gave one gasp and said,
Oh, Nancy for the notion of my going.with-
out her, clean took my breath away, and I 'd no
mind to stay at home, in spite of the coat. "Yes,"
says she, "that I will,--if I never go to another
ball so long as I live."
Then I said, Oh, Nancy! again, like the
little ninny that I was; and there she stood,
looking at the coat, thinking, with her curly head
first on one side, then on t' other, and her forehead
all a-pucker and her rosy, saucy mouth screwed
up like a button-hole. After a while she began to
whistle, and though I knew 't was n't ladylike or
pretty-behaved, I always made sure, when Nancy
did that, of something worth while a-coming next.
Then all of a sudden she clapt her hands to-
gether, and says she, "Iknow what I'll do."
"What?" said I, but she just ran out.of the
room without saying a word, and in two minutes
came flying back again with a long strip of yellow
cloth in her hand. 'T was a piece left from Mrs.
Becky's cutting out, one day, and a kind of home-
spun cloth called buckram, dyed bright yellow with
saffron, and walnut leaves. I could n't think at
first what Nancy would be at, when she came wav-
ing it.for all the world like a flag before her; but
I soon found out.
"Now, Cis," says she, a-laughing, but she


648


[JULY,





GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


meant it, all the same, "I 'm going to put such
a patch on this coat that Grandpapa can't wear it
to the ball."
I thought it a vastly ingenious notion, and one
that just nobody in all this world but Nancy would
have been keen enough to think about. How-
ever, being always a sad coward, I was afraid that
Grandpapa would be mad. Besides, there seemed
something very bad in it, anyhow; and so I told
her; but Nancy only set her lips in another button-


Grandpapa Hardwick; but as for Nancy, she held
her head up as brave as you please and marched
along in front like any lion. "Here 's the coat,
Grandpapa," says she, and gave it into his hand.
I felt like running away then, only I wanted to
hear what they said betwixt 'em. I did jump
back, just ever so little, but after all I need not
have been scared, for Grandpapa certainly did n't
do or say what I 'd expected.
A box on the ear was nothing so uncommon in


THE BALL.
hole and untied her housewife, with a jerk. Then those days, even if one had turned sixteen, when
she threaded her needle and went to stitch- young folks misbehaved to their elders. I 'm sure
stitching away; and she sewed that yellow cloth I 'd looked for nothing less that time; but Grand-
on tight and fast, for a patch, all down the back of papa did no such a thing. He did n't say a word
the coat. at first; he only held the coat up and looked at it in
I promise you my heart went pitty-pat when a right-surprised way, and then a curious look came
't was done, and we fetched it downstairs to into his eyes, with that funny twinkle 'way deep


z889.]


649





GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


down. "Humph!" says he to himself, a-glancing
sharply first at Nancy, then at me. Very well,
very well, and-thank you, young ladies," says he;
and with that he takes the coat and claps it right
on his back. I had never thought before that
Nancy could look so silly as she did then; and
such a scolding as Mrs. Becky gave us, when she
found out, we never had before nor after. There
was the coat worse than need be, a sight to be-
hold. Grandpapa was surer than ever to wear it
to the ball, and nobody durst say a word against
it. Howsoever, when the time came to dress and
make ready, 't was more than Nancy could do to
stay at home as she 'd said she would. She stuck
to it a little while, but when she saw our frocks
a-waiting to put on, and even Mrs. Becky so fine
and gay in her very best silk gown that had never
been abroad before for anything less than a
wedding,- and the coach at the door,-why,
then says she to me, Cis, I '11 have to go. I
know I '11 die when I see Grandpapa walking
about with that patch on his back," says she, "but
I '11 go all the same and make the best of it."
Whereupon I said I made sure I would die myself
at that, but we 'd see all the people first; so
the long and short of it was that we dressed our-
selves in all our fine rigging and started.
I 'm sure our dresses could n't have been prettier
if they 'd been brand-new, whilst for the richness of
the stuffs we could n't have touched it in those
war-times for any money, I reckon. Our petticoats
were of the best diamond-quilted Marseilles satin,
Nancy's the beautifulest pea-green, and mine a
crimson-red. Nancy's looped skirt was gros-de-
Naples silk, of a pinkish color that Mrs. Becky
said used to be called great reputation," when
't was all the fashion in her and my mamma's
young days, edged round with silver lace looking
as good as new by candlelight, for all a bit tar-
nished in daytime. Then her bodice was of green
satin to match the petticoat, laced up a-front with
silver cord, and her neckerchief and ruffles of lace
that had been Grandmamma Hardwick's own when
she was a gir -h1Mrs. Becky was for ha\ ing her hair
dressed fine and powdered, but Nancy just shook
her curly head and laughed at that notion; and.sure
enough the powder would have seemed as much a
pity as snow on blooming buttercups, for every little
ring was like shiny gold itself. For my part, I was
willing enough for the powder on mine. But Mrs.
Becky said I was clean beyond my age already and
should n't be any more stuck-up. However, I had
my curls, too, as fine and glossy as the curling-
tongs could make 'em, and tied with a cherry-
colored ribbon to set off my brownness. My skirt
was brocade, all flowered with red roses, and my
shoes the best red French kid. So there was I, a


red bird from top to toe; and. both of us with our
handsome paste shoe-buckles on, that Mrs. Becky
had never let.us wear before .in. allourlives.
We left Grandpapa Hardwick behind when we
set out. He told us to go along in the coach and
he would come presently on horseback, which was
always the way he liked best to travel. Mrs. Becky
whispered us how maybe he was waiting for black
Sam, his own man, that had been sent to Annapolis
that morning early, to fetch the latest war news.
'T was good forty miles there and back, so that one
might hardly in reason look for him before sun-.
down at soonest, but there was Grandpapa at four
o'clock a-walking the hall floor and glancing out
eveiy minute, already. He'd been mighty anxious
and'impatient of late days, ever since hearing that
General Washington and Lord Cornwallis were
marching their armies so close on each other in
Virginia; and all the other elder gentlemen, too,
shook their heads when they talked it over, and
said there must be heavy fighting before, long.
According to the last report, they had begun it
even then at Yorktown. Maybe some folks would
say 't was no time to be having balls, but the war
was like an old tale then, that might go on for-
ever, and young human nature will have its way,
somehow, trouble or no trouble, war or peace. Off
we set in the great coach, Mrs. Becky almost as
much a-flutter as Nancy or me, ivith four horses
to draw us and two outriders behind. Quality
traveled in quality fashion, those times. Very grand
we felt, I can tell you, and very grand we found
everything when we got to the ball.
It seems to me that I never see any candles now,
shining as bright as those did that time, in every
nook and corner; nor any floor polished to such a
looking-glass; nor hear any music as sweet-sound-
ing as those fiddlers, a-playing away, Charlie o'er
the Water," or Devil 'mong the Tailors," or some
such good old tune. Maybe it's only the natural
difference betwixt old eyes and ears, and young;
but there is one thing for certain you never see
now-a-days, my dears, and that's any such elegant-
looking gen leman so elegantly dressed as Monsieur
Tissot, with his beautiful powdered hair, white as
a snow-drift, and his sky-blue velvet coat and vest,
and his ruffles fine as any lady's. No, no you
,never see such as that in these days, with the men
all choked up in black stocks to their ears and
buttoned tight in their ugly straight coats, for all
the world like field-marshals in a nor'west wind,
and never a bit of powder on their greasy, plas-
tered-looking heads. As for the ladies, I never
saw a flower-bed yet that could compare with the
brightness of their dressing. Half the country was
there,- that is, everybody that was anybody, as
the old saying goes,--and all in their finest humor


650


[JULY,






GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


651


as well as finest clothes, old and young. 'T was
late in October month, when red and yellow leaves
are turned to their prettiest prime, and the dancing-
hall had been decked by the townspeople with
wreaths of 'em all over the fireplaces, and the
music gallery, and round the sconces, as fancifully
as you please. I thought't was like fairy-land, at
the first look inside; and surely there never was
any prettier, livelier sight in this world.
We began with the minuet, of course, mighty
graceful and stately, and Monsieur opened the
ball with Nancy, who was always his favorite
scholar, as everybody said. Then 't was contra-
dance and quadrille, turn and turn about. We 'd
a plenty of partners, Nancy and I, and footed it
merrily with the best. Her cheeks were like roses
and her eyes a-shining, but I saw her every now
and then looking round toward the door as I
did myself,- both of us none too easy in our
minds and expecting any minute to see Grandpapa
walk right in, with the great yellow patch on his
back!
However, we looked and looked again, and still
he did n't come. He 'd never been so late before
at any of the common meetings, and presently,
after the clock struck eight, I fell to wondering so,
about the reason why, that I could n't half re-
member my steps.
'T was 'most nine o'clock and I was standing
with Tony Puffanblow, my partner, waiting our
turn at hands across and down the middle, when I
heard Grandpapa's voice outside the door. I saw
Nancy, over on t' other side the room, give a great
start, as if she 'd heard it too,- and then I saw
the people in the doorway making room for him
to pass. There was nobody in the county treated
with more respect than Squire Hardwick, of Hard-
wick's Choice. They all stepped aside with their
best bows as he walked betwixt 'em right into a
clear space in the middle of the room,- and soon as
I set eyes on him, then, why,-I was like to drop !
He was n't dressed in the old coat at all, but in
one that I never even saw before,-a beautiful
black velvet coat, of a right queer old-fashioned
cut, but glossy black and-rich'as new, with a gold-
laced satin waistcoat and the beautifulest yellow
lace ruffles at his neck and wrists. Then his
breeches were velvet to match the coat, and he 'd
diamond shoe-buckles and silk stockings; whilst
as for the look on his face well, I 'd never seen
that before, neither, any more than the dress. His
eyes they fairly sparkled like fire, with a queer,
eager look in 'em that was almost fierce, and there
were two red spots on his cheeks. In one hand
he carried his three-cornered hat; in the other a
folded paper. Everybody seemed to know some-
how, all at once, that something uncommon was


happening. The music stopped right short and the
people on the floor stopped dancing, in the midst
of a figure, and turned-round to look. Every-
body in the room just gazed and listened to see
what was coming next.
Then Grandpapa Hardwick stood up mighty
straight, with his head high. Ladies and gen-
tlemen," says he, out loud and clear, only his
voice it shook ever so little,-" Ladies and gentle-
men, God save our country and the brave men,
dead and living, who have helped to make her
free! I bring you good news, neighbors. The
war is over and done. Lord Cornwallis surren-
dered to George Washington two days ago, at
Yorktown in Virginia !"
So that was the news that black Sam had fetched
in writing from Annapolis, and that was the rea-
son why Grandpapa had stayed behind us so long
to take off the old ragged coat and rig himself in
the very best that he could find in his great chest-
of-drawers,- clothes that he had n't once put on
since he was a young man visiting our grand kin-
people in England. What a time there was, to
be sure, when he had said his say. The gentle-
men cheered over and over again, till it was a
wonder they did n't take the roof off atop of us,
and bid fair to shake Grandpapa's hand clean
away. As for the ladies, there was a great clap-
ping and waving of handkerchiefs; some kissed
each other, some of 'em laughed, and some cried,
which last seemed to me very queer on hearing
such joyful news, but Nancy vowed afterward that
the tears were running down my cheeks, like the
others, for all I did n't know it, and I saw 'em on
hers, too. We both ran up to Grandpapa as soon
as we might for the men crowding him, and he
patted us on the head very kindly, never saying
one word about the changed coat. I know he 'd
have worn the old one, yellow patches and all, if
it had n't been for the turn of things. Maybe we
deserved to be taken down a peg. However, be
that as it may, we were'none the less joyed at the
surprise and the happy outcome, and, I do believe,
felt as glad about the coat.as about the country !
Then, what a dance there was next, when the
ball went on again. The fiddlers were well heart-
ened up," as they called it, with a rousing toast to
General Washington, and they fingered like folk
possessed with a witchery. The violins seemed to
speak, Hold out your petticoats and dance like
a lady," like live things saying the words with that
tune, for Grandpapa would have a reel, which he
said was the only thing worth dancing when one
was in spirits; and there he led out in it himself,
with Mrs. Becky to his partner; whilst even Squire
Parley and Captain Puffanblow and Colonel Mac-
Grumble were stepping it, too, as lively as any


1889.]





GRANDPAPA'S COAT.


youngsters on the floor. I promise you we had a ask Grandpapa in her prettiest way if she might
fine appetite, one and all, for the good things when have the old coat !
supper was ready that night. Humph says he, looking at her with that
Heigho a fine, pleasant time it was whilst it twinkle in his eyes. Humph! Do you want to


- ". G-- v '

1" "i4 -h" .- A t .tjW


"I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS, NEIGHBORS. THE WAR IS OVER AND DONE!"


lasted; but 't was over soon, though not quite by
twelve o'clock, as was first planned for the break-
ing up. We were sleepy-headed and tired enough
in the legs next day, but nobody quarreled about
that, for though the ball was over the good news
lasted on, and would. last forever. The war was
over and done, sure enough, and good times
a-coming (as everybody said), with peace and
plenty and prosperity all over our free republic
land. Mrs. Becky was for tearing up the old coat
that very day, for fear Grandpapa Hardwick might
take a sudden notion to put it on again. I thought
this was a very safe thing, but when we went to do
it, who should say No but Miss Nancy her-
self! and then, what does she do next but go and


preserve it as a sample of your fine needlework,
young lady ? And at that Nancy blushed up
red as a rose. Then he teased her a bit, saying
't would do very well yet for him to -wear on a
rainy day; but, however, at last he said, "Take
it-and go!"
Goodness knows what had changed her mind on
a sudden to set such store by the old worn-out
thing! 'T was only fit for the rag-bag, but she
kept it always a-hanging in her own closet as care-
fully as if it had been cloth of gold, till she was
married and went away from Hardwick's Choice.
Then she took it away with her, and her daugh-
ter- your Cousin Ariana -has got what's left
of it to this very day.
Alice Maude Ewell.


652












LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


BY HARRIET TAYLOR UPTON.


IT was spring-time in the city of Chelsea, Mas-
sachusetts.
Many boys and girls were in the streets on their
way to enjoy an outdoor holiday.
Louis W. F. ., as he sat on his aunt's great
front porch, contrasted strangely with things about
him. He was deeply occupied with his own
thoughts. He took a map from his coat-pocket
and began a careful study of it. This he continued
till he was startled by the rattle of a window-blind
back of him; instantly he crumpled the paper
tightly in his hand and slipped it again into its
hiding-place.
In his mind he counted over his money, and
found the sum to be only a very small one.
I do wish that he would go and play ball as he
usually does on Saturdays," muttered Mrs. Beman,
as she peered at him through the window; "but
he won't; he has reached the crisis. I had hoped
he would be like his mother,-contented,-but he
is like his father," and she quietly fastened the
blinds. She had made no difference between her
own sons and her brother's youngest boy, who had
been left to her care when a mere baby. And in
her mind she had mapped out his whole future.
He was to be a lawyer; to practice in Chelsea; to
live and die in the old homestead, as his father
and father's father had done before him. But
now she was beginning to fear her plans would
not 'be carried out; and she was not surprised
when, later in the day, Louis said, "Aunt Hetty,
let's go into the library, I want to have a talk
with you."
So she accompanied him to the library, and
they sat down opposite one another, with due
solemnity.
"I have been thinking," began Louis, "that I
should like to go to the war."
Mrs. Beman smiled. The idea seemed so ridicu-
lous to her that she did not answer.
I don't mean right now, because I am too
young; but I should like to enter the United
States service," Louis went on. "I have con-
cluded I should prefer the navy. Every citizen of
the republic, you know, should give his life for
his country, if need be."
This was a set speech, and the speaker had re-
hearsed it several times in his dwn room.


Mrs. Beman remained silent. She knew justhow
that year, 1862, had stirred the hearts of all the
people, and she considered this idea of her
nephew's an outcome of the popular excitement.
She knew that she had no political friends whose
assistance she could ask, and she would make no
effort to obtain an appointment for Louis. She
disliked soldiers in peace, and did not wish to
have her loved ones exposed to the perils of war.
"I'd like to go to Washington and apply for an
appointment," persisted Louis. "Don't scowl,
Aunt Hetty; and please don't say no till you
have thought about it."
Before she could answer, he jumped through
the low window, ran along the porch, and 'up the
street, intending to leave her plenty of time for
reflection.
The next morning at breakfast he seemed some-
what anxious as he awaited her decision.
"I suppose the sooner you know, the better,
Louis," his aunt said, as she passed him a cup of
coffee.
He nodded assent.
"Well, I consider the scheme a hopeless one,
and it is not what I had expected you would do;
but as soon as you can earn the sum needful for
your expenses you can go and make a trial."
The boy's face brightened, and he attacked the
brown bread and baked beans with unusual vigor.
He went with his aunt to church, for he went with
her every Sunday, but he heard little of service or
sermon. He arose and sat down at the proper
places, but his thoughts were far away.
The next morning, at school-time, he came
downstairs with a bundle in one hand and a small
pasteboard box under his arm.
Good-bye, Aunt Hetty," he said, as he stopped
to kiss her.
"Where are you going, child?" she asked, in
wonder.
"To Washington. Did n't you say I might go
when I had money enough? I am going to walk
-that does n't take money. 'Besides, I have a
little money of my own to pay other expenses.
So good-bye; I '11 write to you."
Seeing that he was resolved to go, his aunt
would not interfere. But she advised him to
secure the aid and influence of some prominent






'LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


man. Louis thought this an excellent suggestion,
and thanked her for it. Again bidding her fare-
well, he passed. out of the gate and hurried along
the street.
Mrs. Beman watched him until he turned the
coiner. Then, as she went in, great tears trickled
down her cheeks. She brightened up, however,
as she said to herself, He may be back all the
sooner for having started on foot."
Meantime Louis was trudging on his way. That
afternoon he entered the city of Boston, tired but
little by his walk.
Like all Massachusetts boys he knew of the
great orator, Edward 'Everett, and he had even
heard him speak. Remembering his aunt's advice,
he determined that he could not do better than to
call on Mr. Everett and see whether he could
secure the influence of so prominent a man. He
found the address in a directory and called at Mr.
Everett's residence. Having said that he wished
to see Mr. Everett on a matter of business, he was
invited into the library.
Mr. Everett was a man of dignified bearing and
great reserve of manner. Rising, the old gentle-
man said, in a cold but courteous tone, What can
I do for you ?"
"Please give me a letter," said Louis, entirely
unabashed, "to some of the officials in Washington.
I am going to get an appointment as midshipman."
Mr. Everett was surprised and not entirely
pleased with the boy's blunt reply. He said
coldly:
But I don't know you, my boy, and I am not
in the habit of giving letters to strangers."
Louis looked up with a smile and said stoutly,
"But you will give me one! "
Mr. Everett, like most men in public life, was an
excellent judge of character. He looked sharply
into the boy's face for a moment and decided that
the young fellow had not intended to be impudent
or presuming, but had stated his wishes with
native simplicity and directness. Smiling a little,
in spite of his efforts to maintain a dignified ex-
pression, he said:
"Yes, I will. I believe you to be an honora-
ble young man, and a brave one as well. I think
I can trust you with my name, and I will do all that
I can to assist you. You are a bright little fellow
and should make your mark in the world."
Asking Louis to be seated, he wrote a letter of
introduction to his son-in-law, Commander Wise,
who-was then stationed in Washington.
After a few moments' conversation, during which
Louis heard not a few words of kindly advice and
suggestion, Louis bowed and took his leave, much
pleased by this first success.
He.spent the night at the house of a school:.;


mate, where he had been welcomed on previous
visits to town, and early the next morning he
plodded manfully on until he had left the city
limits. He had his path laid out carefully before
him. He knew just when to take the railroad
track and when to keep to the highway.
At noon-time he stretched out under a tree and
opened his lunch-box. His long walk had made
him so hungry that he nearly emptied it, though
he had meant to make it last for a long time. After
a drink from a brook near by, he started out re-
freshed. As the afternoon wore away, his feet
began to sting and smart, but he still walked
bravely on until, just as the sun was going down,
he turned into a farm-yard, intending to secure
lodgings and a supper.
A fierce dog successfully disputed his right
to enter, and he walked on nearly a mile before
he reached a dwelling. Here he found a kind
old man and wife, who, after asking numerous
questions, gave the lad a supper and lodging.
And, as the old gentleman was going to town on
the following morning, he took the young traveler
several miles on his way.
For dinner Louis bought some bread and milk,
and late in the afternoon he had an hour's ride
with a tin-peddler. To be sure, he could have
made greater progress had he walked, but his legs
were stiff and sore, and he was glad even to jog
slowly along behind the old gray horse, with the
aged and talkative driver for a companion.
That night, however, he could find no one who
was willing to give him a lodging. He bought his
supper at a farm-house, and was permitted to sleep
in the barn. His bed of hay was rough, and the air
in the loft stifling. A storm came up, and the
roof leaked in many places, so that he had to
change to another spot to avoid the dampness.
At daybreak he renewed his march. The ioads
were muddy, the streams swollen, and he began
to show the effects of his travel; he looked dusty
and tired. A man ordered him out of a yard he
had entered. He did not come to a place where
he could breakfast till nearly noon, and several
times debated whether he should turn back or not.
But he kept on.
About four o'clock in the afternoon he came
upon a company of school-children, and for a
little while trudged along with them. For a few
pennies he bought a portion of their luncheons,
and made his supper of boiled eggs and apple-pie.
He spent the night with a friendly farmer,
whom he met on the road; and although he did
not exactly relish his breakfast, he congratulated
himself because he had paid very little for it. He
seemed to be meeting with unlooked-for dis-
couragements; but his feet and legs, which at


[JULY,






LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


first had pained him, ceased to ache, and he com-
forted himself with the idea that he was becoming
a pedestrian.
One day he happened to be at a small station
just as a freight train was taking on fuel and
water. A brakeman, with whom he fell into con-
versation, and to whom he told something of his
plans, invited him to climb into a freight car, and
he thus secured a ride to Philadelphia, and thereby
gained fifty miles. After leaving Philadelphia he
kept to the railway, and, being well hardened, made
excellent progress, securing such fare and lodging
as he could. He met with no peculiar adventures,
however, untilhe was on the outskirts of Annapolis.
He was walking sturdily along, looking toward a
camp not far from the road, when he was challenged
by a sentry:
"Who goes there? "
Louis halted, and, not knowing what to say, said
nothing.
Where 's your permit?" said the sentry.
"I have n't any permit,- what for?" asked
Louis.
"You must have a permit before you can go on
to Washington. I shall have to keep you under
arrest until I am relieved," said the sentry, not
unkindly.
Louis had been walking since early morning and
had no objection to resting a while. At first he
had been somewhat startled at the words under
arrest," but he soon reassured himself by reflecting
that it surely could not be either a civil or a mili-
tary offense to offer one's services to the country.
He talked with the sentry until the patrol came
from headquarters, and then went with them as.a
prisoner. The Colonel was inclined to question
Louis sharply at first, but when the boy had frankly
explained that he was going to be appointed mid-
shipman entirely on his own responsibility, the
Colonel laughed heartily and they were soon on
excellent terms. Louis stayed at headquarters for
several hours, and then the Colonel said:
Well, my boy, as the country needs you, we
must not keep you here. Allow me to offer this
as an apology for having detained you so long,"
and he thrust five dollars into Louis's hand. He
pressed Louis to stay with them, but the boy was
eager to go on. The Colonel made Louis promise
to send him word as to the result of the journey.
He insisted that Louis should take the money, and
even secured him a place on a train which stopped
only a short distance from Washington itself. After
Louis left the train, it was not many minutes be-
fore the dome of the Capitol appeared against
the sky.
The blood leaped in his veins for joy, and he
quickened his pace. He walked on and on, still


keeping his eyes on the dome, apparently without
coming any nearer it. He concluded, therefore,
that the track curved away from the Capitol, and
at Benning Station he turned into the highway
and sat down to rest.
Presently a little girl came wandering down a
path which led to a house high on an adjoining
hill. She carried a small basket; and looked
eagerly up and down the road. Louis spoke
to her, and she told him she was waiting for
"Pompey," who was coming to take her across
the river on his way to the city.
"Thar 's a heap o' Yankees 'round yeah," she
said. "Are you going to town, too ? "
"Yes," said Louis; "but I have to walk."
"You can ride," she returned. "Pompey will
be alone, and he 's right glad of company."
So the last few miles Louis jogged along by
a dark-skinned, thick-lipped boy, who spoke a
dialect he could scarcely understand.
"Dar am de jail," said the boy. "It hab a
heap o' fellows in dar, now. Reckon it '11 be a
right smart spell.fo' dey git out, too "
But the young traveler had little interest in jails,
and made but short answers. As he approached
the city, he dusted off his hat and clothes, and
otherwise made himself as neat as he could. At
the corner of Maryland Avenue and Second Street
he bade his companion good-morning.
He walked briskly through the Capitol grounds
without noticing any of the surroundings. He has-
tened up the broad steps, through the rotunda,
not stopping till he reached the green swinging
doors which guard the upper House of Congress.
Then suddenly he found himself nervous and ex-
cited; his forehead was wet with perspiration, the
air seemed lifeless to him, and his courage was
gone. He turned about and walked wearily away.
He did not stop until he was under the dome,
and then, somewhat tired of carrying about the
little carpet-bag in which he had packed all his
outfit, he seated himself upon a bench and looked
about him.
He soon noticed that the number of people
increased as noonday approached, and he sum-
moned up his courage to return to the entrance
of the Senate. Forgetting, for the moment, the
letter given to him by Edward Everett, he began
to consider whether he could not secure the influ-
ence of some Massachusetts statesman. Of course,
his first thought was of Charles Sumner. He ap-
proached a man sitting near one of the doors, and
said:
"Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Sum-
ner?"
"I suppose he is in his committee-room," re-
turned the attendant.


655






LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


Where 's that ?" asked Louis.
It does n't make any difference to you, where
it is. You can't see him tillhe comes out," was the
ungracious reply. "You stay around here, and
when he comes along I '11 tell him you want to
see him."
So Louis walked up and down, watching the
people pass him,- black and white, rich and poor,
ladies and char-women, excited politicians, jost-
ling, dejected beggars, all intent on their own
affairs.
But a boy can not feed upon sights, and he
wandered, down the hall until he found an old
colored woman selling pies, cakes, buns, and fruit.
Her stand was in a corridor between the rotunda
and the Senate.- She seemed much interested in
Louis. She was, even then, a well-known charac-
ter, and acquainted with many of the legislators,
all of whom were kind to her, and, it is said, she
occupies the -same stand to this day; and has not
forgotten Louis's visit.
"What makes you charge so much?" he in-
quired, when he had learned her prices.
"I keep fust-class victuals, and I sells to Con-
gressmen, not to no common trash," she replied.
Louis thereupon invested in a piece of pie and
apple, which he eagerly ate and found satisfying.
"I wonder if Congressmen like such hard
crust?" he thought, as he went back to his post.
It was then two o'clock, so he approached the
doorkeeper again.
Did you find Mr. Sumner?" he asked.
I have n't seen him to-day; but when he comes
along, I 'II let you know," said the doorkeeper,
grinning.
"So you told me this morning at eleven o'clock,
and I have waited ever since."
"Have you? chuckled the official. "I forgot
about you entirely."
Soon a man walked up hastily and, giving a
card to the doorkeeper, said, Send that to Sen-
ator Sumner!" Before many minutes an at-
tendant returned and the man was invited to
enter.
Louis was quick to take the hint. Writing his
name upon a blank card, which he found upon a
table near the door, he said to the doorkeeper,
"Send my name to Senator Sumner, and I
think he will see me "
Louis spoke so confidently, that the doorkeeper,
after looking sharply at him, sent in the card.
'"Senator Sumner received the card just as he
was about to come out, and so appeared with the
card in his hand. As he reached the door, he asked
the doorkeeper:
"Where is the gentleman who sent in this
card?"


"It was that little boy standing there," said
the doorkeeper.
The Senator turned courteously to Louis, say-
ing, Well, my boy, what is it? "
I have 'come to Washington to be appointed
midshipman," said Louis, simply.
Mr. Sumner looked at him with surprise. At
length he said, "I 'm too busy to see you now.
Come and see me at my room to-night." Then
he walked briskly away.
That night Louis had a long interview with the
Senator, and told him the whole story.
"Did you walk 'all the way?" the -Senator
asked.
No, sir," said Louis; "-I contrived to get two
little rides on the cars, and two or three persons
helped me a few miles."
He saw the Senator's bright eyes twinkle, and
his firm mouth break into a smile.
"Well, well, you have pluck! Did you think
you could surely get the place? "
"Oh, yes, sir; 1 know I can."
Here Mr. Sumner looked serious again, and
presently said, reluctantly, that he feared he could
do nothing for Louis.
"It is no use, my boy. Even the President
could n't do it. Why, I have from four to five
hundred applicants whose fathers are influential
men in high positions, all seeking to be appointed
as midshipmen or cadets. You could get to be
colonel in the army more easily. It is one of the
few things that are absolutely out of the question.
You 'd better go home Washington is no place
for boys in such times as these."
.. Louis remembered his letter to Commander
Wise, and, after telling Senator Sumner about his
interview with the Massachusetts orator, he pro-
duced the letter of introduction.
It will do no good to present it," said Mr.
Sumner. "Possibly," said he with a smile, "the
President might have influence enough to help
you certainly no one else has "
Louis, having expected a different result, was for
a moment discouraged. But recovering himself,
he turned to the Senator and said sturdily:
I 've come to Washington to get that appoint-
ment, and sometimes even great men are mistaken.
I shall not give it up until I have seen the President
himself."
The following morning Louis made his way to
the White House. He hung about the porch a
while, and then followed some gentlemen insideand
upstairs. They turned into one of the rooms and
shut the door behind them. Soon another party
arrived, and he noticed that they wrote their names
on cards and sent them in by the messenger, who
afterward admitted them. Louis then remem-


656


[JuLY,






LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


"MR. LINCOLN THEN LAID HIS HAND ON THE BOY'S ARM AND SAID VERY KINDLY, 'I REALLY CAN DO
NOTHING FOR YOU. (SEE PAGE 658.)


bered his experience at the Capitol, so he took a
leaf from a little note-book, wrote his name on it,
and gave it to the man at the door, who seemed,
from his accent, to be a German. The messenger
quietly tore it up and said:
You go 'vay Der President hat no dime for
you leetle poys."
"Every one tells me to go home," thought the
boy, and for a moment or two he really wished
VOL. XVI-42.


himself there. But he resolved to make another
attempt, and wrote his name upon another piece
of paper. The man at the door destroyed this also.
Indignant at this treatment, Louis said loudly:
" You have no right to treat me in this way, and
if President Lincoln knew it he would not allow it.
I 've as much right to see the President as any
senator or governor in this country, and I know
that the President will see a boy who has taken the


z889.]





LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


trouble to walk from Boston to Washington to see
him Are you going to let me in? "
The man said, "No," and, turning his back,
paid no further attention to Louis.
Before many minutes, and while the door stood
ajar, some one required the man's services and he
went a few paces away from his post. In an instant
Louis slipped in and ran literally into the Presi-
dent's arms !
It seemed that the President had heard the alter-
cation at the door, and was coming toward the
doorway as Louis entered. As he received Louis,
he said:
"Would n't'they let you in to see me, after
your having such a long and wearisome journey ?"
Then, turning to the doorkeeper, the President
went on, "When a boy walks from Boston to
Washington to see me, as this boy has done, I 'd
rather see him than all the politicians in the
United States!"


I :., .- 7 _.-, -,- .- '.. '




;ir:'I" -Sr; L ^

r -- .


;.;.:: ^ .. .' .


The doorkeeper went out, much abashed, rj
and the President said in his kindly way: r
Sit down, niy ld. I suppose you wanted .
to see the President and the other curiosities
at Washington ? "
"No, sir," said Louis; "I have come on I
business." A
Mr. Lincoln sighed, and said to Secretary
Seward, who stood near, "Even the boys must
come on business Well, what is your busi- i
ness?" he asked Louis, a little less cordially.
. Then Louis made up his'mindto do his best.
"Mr. President," he began, earnestly, "I F
want to be a midshipman in the navy, and
have come to ask for an appointment as cadet in
the Naval Academy-- "
The President here interposed, "But are you
aware that I have seventeen hundred applications
on file?"
"Please add my name to the list, and make it
seventeen hundred and one," said Louis, good-
humoredly.


Mr. Lincoln laughed heartily at this.
Young as he was Louis saw that, though he had
made a good impression, the President regarded
the appointment as out of the question. Resolved
to convince the President that it was a serious
matter, he said in .a determined tone:
"Mr. President, I am in earnest. I must have
that appointment--"
Mr. Lincoln was much amused at his -per-
emptory tone and interrupted, saying, You must
have it, must you? Well, you shall have it!
That's the sort of talk I like to hear. That's the
kind of material to make a navy-officer out of If
we had more of it in the service, the war would
soon be over."
Taking a little card from his desk. Mr. Lincoln
wrote upon it as follows:
"This boy says he'must get into the Naval Academy,
and I think he must, if possible. Can Sec. of Navy do
anything for him? His name is Louis W. F ..
"March 26, 1862. A. LINCOLN."


Mr. Lincoln then laid his hand on the
boy's arm and said very kindly, "I really
can do nothing for you; but a boy who has
trudged all the way from Massachusetts to
Washington seeking an opportunity to serve
his country ought to have what he came for.
You go to Secretary Welles, hand him this
card, and tell him I sent you to him."
A few words of thanks, and Louis slipped.
down the stairs and ran whistling along till
he reached the Navy Department.


've got it, sure! he thought. "The President




AC-SIMILE OF THE CARD WHICH MR. LINCOLN GAVE TO LOUIS.

I 've got it, sure!" he thought. "The President
can have anything he wants; he 's king."
He easily gained admission to the Secretary's pri-
vate room, as he announced he had a message from
Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Welles read the card and smiled.
"Did you say that to the President? he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Louis, hopefully.
Mr. Welles was especially fond of boys and young


658


[JULY,






889.1 LOUIS THE

people, and he was, besides, a very good reader of
character. He saw that Louis was a bright boy.
He knew, too, how easily Mr. Lincoln's heart was
touched by such a case, and he said:
I could not appoint you, young man, without
violating the law. You would not wish me to do
that, I know. I have a son of my own whom I
would like to see appointed, and I can't appoint
him, either."
"I don't want you to do anything wrong, but I
came down here to go to Annapolis," replied
Louis; and, half choked with disappointment, he
went back to Mr. Lincoln. The doorkeeper al-
lowed him to go right in, and Mr. Lincoln stopped
writing immediately to hear the result.
The President asked the boy how he had suc-
ceeded, and Louis repeated what had been said.
When he heard it, Lincoln's face looked as sad
as Louis's.
Mr. Lincoln put on his hat and, taking the boy
by the hand, started for the Navy Department.
On the way the President asked Louis about his
family, and finally inquired why he came alone,
and was much amused by Louis's reply:
I don't bring my aunt with me when I 'm on
business "
On learning something of the boy's ancestry,
the President said:
I see where you get your pluck and persever-
ance. You shall have that appointment if I have
power to give it to you; if not, I will do some-
thing else for you."
Arriving at the Navy Department, the President
said to Secretary Welles :
Welles, I want you to appoint this boy of
mine, a midshipman. Any boy of his age who has
the pluck and perseverance to do what he has
done, I call my boy. Will you appoint him?
He tells me you were going to appoint your son.
Now, Welles, you have n't any boy of his age but
what is tied to his mother's apron-strings and
would n't dare to leave home and go through the
trials this boy has gone through."
I have no appointments to make, Mr. Lin-
coln," replied Secretary Welles. If I had, I
would gladly appoint him."
After a few words more, President Lincoln took
Louis'by the hand, saying:
Come, my boy, let us go home."
They returned to the White House, where Sec-
retary Seward was waiting. Mr. Lincoln told of
their interview with Mr. Welles.
Mr. Seward suggested that Louis might be ap-
pointed to West Point. But this would n't do at
all. Louis said he did not care to be anything but
a midshipman. Mr. Lincoln, pleased with the
boy's resolution and singleness of purpose, said:


RESOLUTE. 659

"It is no use talking. He has made up his
mind, and that settles it!"
Really, my boy," the President said, after a
few nioments, "I suppose Mr. Welles is right.
We shall have to have a law passed for your bene-
fit. You can have a bill drawn up."
Louis's fervor was beginning to cool. He was
astonished that a real President and a real Secre-
tary had to be governed just like other people.
Still he did not give up.
He remained at Washington for a long time.
His frankness, manliness, and cleverness won him
friends everywhere. A bright clever boy, there
were many ways in which he cduld make himself
useful in those busy times, and he let no oppor-
tunity escape him.
Several senators and congressmen gave him
work enough to enable him to support himself.
He became intimate at the White House, par-
ticularly with the President's youngest son Tad."
But, pleasant as was his life in the capital, Louis
never forgot his purpose. Whatever he could do
to secure the appointment he did. More than one
congressman offered to appoint Louis if he would
qualify himself by changing his residence to
another district, and Andrew Johnson, then Mili-
tary Governor of Tennessee, who afterward became
President, declared hiis willingness to give him an
appointment, saying he would be glad to have
Louis become a midshipman from Tennessee. But
Louis neither cared to give up his native State,
nor knew how to support himself in a new one;
perhaps, also, he was' unwilling to. leave the field
before his fate was settled one way or the other.
One evening, about half-past six, Senator Hale
of New Hampshire met Louis just after the ad-
journment of a meeting of the Committee on
Naval Affairs. Of this committee Mr. Hale was
chairman. He stopped as he saw Louis, and,
beckoning to him, said:
Louis, I have just drafted a bill which is to be.
offered in the Senate, and that bill, if passed, will
give to the President power to appoint six mid-
shipmen-at-large to fill the vacant districts of
Southern- congressmen. Now,, the .bill provides
that applicants must be recommended by the rep-
resentatives of their districts. Now, you go tell
the President what I have told you, and make
him promise to give you one of those appoint-
ments. Don't say a word to any one else! "
Thanking the Senator warmly for his kindness,
Louis hurried to' the White House, and going
to the President's room found him with his son
"Tad," to whom he happened to be reading the
Bible. Before long, having finished a chapter, he
asked Louis, What brings you here, at this
time of the night ? Can I do anything for you ? "






LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


"Yes, you can, Mr. Lincoln," said Louis,
eagerly. Senator Hale has just told me -" and
he told the story, ending with and I am here to
ask for one of those appointments."
If it is so, yours shall be the first appointment
I will make," said the President, warmly. "You
deserve it-you have earned it."


PORTRAIT OF LOUIS IN HIS UNIFORM. (ENGRAVED, BY PERMISSION,
FROM ENLARGED COPY, BY MORENO AND LOPEZ, OF
AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH.)

Evidently Louis did not seem so well pleased as
the President had expected, for he asked, with
some surprise:
"What I are you not satisfied? "
"Yes, sir," Louis answered, "more than satis-
fied. I am gratified and delighted, too, sir. But,
you are a very busy man; you may forget it.


Won't you please put it down in writing upon the
back of the card you gave me for Secretary
Welles?"
Mr. Lincoln laughed heartily.
"Certainly," he said, "but-why don't you
study law, Louis, instead of being a midshipman ? "
and he laughed again. Then, taking the card, he
put it on his knee and wrote as follows:

"If it turns out, as this boy says, that a law is to
pass giving me the appointing of six midshipmen-at-
large, and Hon. Mr. Hooper will come to me and request
it, I will nominate him, this boy, as one of them.
"June II, 1862. A. LINCOLN."

At length the bill was reported, but before it
came to its final passage was so amended as to
confine the appointments to the sons of officers,
and thus make it impossible for Louis to be ap-
pointed under it.
Louis was almost in despair, but he still hoped
that something might happen to change the bill
before it became a law.
Among the great men who were interested in
his story was Mr. Thaddeus Stevens. He promised
to attend to the bill when it should come back to
the House. Louis had been recommended to him
by a lady who was a well-known writer, and Mr.
Stevens became much interested in him. In fact,
he had told Louis where to sit in the gallery,
when the bill was to be passed. Louis sat in the
gallery one morning expecting the bill to be read.
It was, but Mr. Stevens was not present. The
second reading,- and no Mr. Stevens! Louis
grew so excited that he was on the point of calling
from the gallery to stop it. He had risen in his
seat and was looking wildly over the railing and
waving his hand, when, just as the bill was pass-
ing to the third reading, in came the looked-for
man.
Mr. Stevens at once declared in a loud voice,
attracting the attention of all present, that this
amended bill was all wrong; that it was made
especially for a little fellow who had walked all the
way from Massachusetts to serve his country, and,
pointing up at Louis, he said:-
There he sits in the gallery, waiting for our
verdict." This oratorical appeal had an immediate
effect. There sat the boy, "pale as a sheet," as
Mr. Stevens said afterward.
Mr. Stevens, who probably remembered his
early experiences of adversity and trouble, told, in
his usual strong and eloquent way, the entire story
with great effect. The House at once passed the
bill in its original form, and even the Senate re-
ceded, and the original bill thus became law. Mr.
Hooper wrote to the President, requesting Louis's
appointment, and it was among the first ten ap-


660


[JULY,





LOUIS THE RESOLUTE.


pointments of midshipmen made by Mr. Lincoln
under this law.
Imagine the surprise of his aunt and the rest
of the people of Chelsea when they heard the re-
sult Louis came home, not as he went away, walk-
ing and carrying a little bundle, but in a luxuri-
ous car, and as an embryo officer of the United
States Navy. After a little time spent at home
he departed for his duties at the Academy. Here
he likewise found himself well known. Visitors
almost always asked for him.
Some time afterward Louis visited the field of
the second battle of Bull Run, and to his great sur-
prise met there the Colonel who had given him


the money and sent him on to Washington. Great
was the amazement of that officer (who had become
a General, meanwhile) to learn of the complete
success of the boy's Quixotic plan.
Louis served as midshipman, with credit, and,
after the war, resigned from the service and entered
the legal profession, thus justifying Mr. Lincoln's
keen recognition of the bent of the boy's character.
He is still living and is now a prominent lawyer in
New York City.
Among his most valued possessions is the tiny
card written for him by President Lincoln, and
here first published as an illustration to this story
founded upon facts.


HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.

BY THEODORE R. DAVIS.


THE method of sketching a battle by "our
special artist on the spot" is not known to most
persons, and droll questions about such work are
asked me by all sorts of people. Most of them seem
to have. an idea that all battlefields have some
elevated spot upon which the general is located,
and that from this spot the commander can see his
troops, direct all their maneuvers and courteously
furnish special artists an opportunity of sketching
the scene. This would, of course, be convenient,
but it very seldom happens to be the case; for a
large army usually covers a wide extent of coun-
try,-wider in fact than could possibly be seen,
even with the best field-glass, from any situation
less elevated than a balloon high in air.
A battle is usually fought upon a pre-arranged
plan, but most of the circumstances and actors
during the actual conflict are unseen by the chief
general. He, however, mentally comprehends
everything and readily understands what is going
on from the reports which are constantly brought
to him by staff-officers.
.It may happen that the point where the most
important movement is to be made, is so located
that no general view of it can be had, and it is only
by going over the actual ground that one can ob-
serve what is going on. Now, the artist must see
the scene, or object, which he is to sketch, and so,
during the battle, is obliged to visit every accessible
point which seems likely to be an important one,
and there make a sufficient memorandum, or gain
such information as will enable him to decide at
the close of the action precisely what were its most
interesting features.


Many persons have said that since my duty was
Qnly to see, and not to fight, they should think that
I would not be shot at, and so did not incur much
danger of being hit.
Ordinarily, of course, the fact is that, in a gen-
eral engagement, special individuals who do not
seem to be prominent are seldom selected as
targets, but if your own chance is no worse, it is
surely no better than that of others near you. To
really see a battle, however, one must accept the
most dangerous situations, for in most cases this
can not possibly be avoided.
There have been occasions when some industri-
ous sharp-shooter troubled me by a too personal
direction of his bullets. No doubt the man regarded
me as somebody on the other side, and considered
he was there to shoot at anything or anybody on
the other side. My most peculiar experience of this
sort was having a sketch-book shot out of my hand
and sent whirling over my shoulder. At another
time, one chilly night after the day of a hard bat-
tle, as I lay shivering on the ground with a single
blanket over me, a forlorn soldier begged and re-
ceived a share of the blanket. I awoke at day-
break to find the soldier dead, and from the wound
it was plain that but for the intervention of his
head the bullet would have gone through my own.
There are also incidents which would show the
other risks, besides those during a battle, to which
a special artist is exposed. But it is the work and
not the adventures of the artist which I shall de-
scribe; and to make the subject clear it will be
well to explain how much there was to be learned
when I first entered the field as a campaign artist.


661




HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.


Infantry, cavalry, and artillery soldiers, each had
their particular uniform, and besides these, their
equipment, such as belts, swords, guns, cartridge-
boxes, and many other things, were different. Their
tactics and maneuvers were not alike, and some
distinguishing point in each uniform designated the
corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, captains, majors,
colonels, and generals. As many as ten different
saddles were in use, and of the army homes-tents




s"'














OUR SPECIAL ARTIST ON THE SPOT.

-there was a great variety. The harness for artil-
lery horses was peculiar, as was that of the mules
which drew the army wagons and ambulances.
Now, these are only some of the things,-a few
of them,-but sufficient to show the necessity for a
special sketch-book, in which to make, whenever
I found an opportunity, memorandum sketches of
every new thing. I thus provided myself with a
reference book for use when active campaigning
commenced; for then there would be no time to


secure detailed sketches, and under some circum-
stances it would often be impossible to get more
than avery rough sketch
from which to finish a
drawing of some very
." important occurrence.
Some leaves taken
-' from one of these re-
ference note-books are


















shown here, to explain what these memoranda were
like. They are somewhat smaller than the originals,
but it should be mentioned that these note-books
were small, so that they might conveniently be
carried in my pocket, ready for use at any moment.
Now, a word aboutmy army homes: There never
was the slightest difficulty in finding quarters, and,
when with the Western army, I sometimes had
several different quarters at the same time, places
where I paid a regular monthly mess-bill, whether
present or absent, and thus was enabled to stay


Tr-ire


F;SIe.


FROM THE ARTIST'S SKETCH-BOOK.


662


[JLLYv,






HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.


over night at the
place nearest to
the scene of the
next day's work,
or could imme-
diately commence
to prepare the
finished drawings
to be sent away
to my journal at


i889.]


17
S .


-,-Lev CL GL_-CC&


the very earliest opportunity.
Of course the character of
these drawings varied both ac-
cording to the circumstances
under which they were made
and the time afforded for their
elaboration from the sketches.
And the sketches, or mere
notes, as at times they were,
might sometimes be absolutely
unintelligible except to myself
(although even now, and after
twenty-five years have passed,
many of these same rough
notes bring back to my mind
the scenes they indicate, and
suggest many forgotten de-
tails). Probably my note-book
of General Grant's Vicksburg
campaign contains some of the


but, should it meet the eye of
any of the veterans of the
Vicksburg campaign who were
in the Raymond fight, they
will not, remembering the ex-
perience, wonder at the appear-
ance of the memorandum. My
horse had been shot a few
moments before the sketch was
made, and there is still a re-
minder of the incident in the
form of a scar on my left knee
as large as a half-dollar, made
by the bullet that killed my
horse-or some other bullet.
The Raymond fight was not
a great battle, but one of those
compact and vigorous engage-
ments at close quarters, with-
out any protecting earthworks.


663

very queerest specimens
of hasty memoranda, and
one of these (which it will
be observed bears every
evidence of being made
on the spot) shows a
locality in which bullets
flew thick and
fast, and every-
\. busy and active.
The place was
the scene of a
part of the battle
of Raymond,
and the note
will no doubt
amuse most of
those who see it;






HOW A BATTLE


664


. :-. 2 *, '.
^~'f '
i:**


Under such conditions it could last but a brief
time before one side or the other gave way,






1 j
VJ F


-? .L'iCA3Qe QC-.rycC\.


suggested, and a few -marks
(which might mean anything)
stand for the road and a bit


of destroyed fence. The word
"dust" shows where there was
a dust cloud an evidence of a movement of
troops. The name of the division which was


A-'
; MP4 Li


A 4-


and that time it was the Confederate soldiers
who found the situation too uncomfortable to re-
main; and as we followed quickly after them, and


marching there, I took pains to learn afterward.
There was an incident in this scene which was as
amusing as it was characteristic of the chief actor,


Illustrating the chances of war--when the paper containing the illustrations of the Vicksburg campaign reached me, a copy was
handed to Captain De Golyer, who at that moment was with his battery in the advance line in front of Vicksburg. The captain started
for his tent, at some distance in the rear, and in a place of comparative safety, and while there, looking over the paper, a chance bullet
struck him, inflicting a wound which caused his death a few weeks afterward.


* I-


IS SKETCHED. [JULY,

camped some miles beyond the scene of the battle,
what I saw of the field I saw during the action.
By comparing the note with the drawing, a some-
thing may be discovered which stands for one of
Captain De Golyer's six-pounder cannon.* The
written word, Logan," means General Logan;
"Mc" is for Colonel Ed. McCook; who was
at the moment limping away, wounded,
and had taken two muskets for
crutches; M" shows where
General McPherson was, and
S near him was the brave Lieu-
tenant-Colonel W. E. Strong,
who a year afterward rescued
i ^- General McPherson's lifeless
body from the battlefield of
ii Atlanta. Trees and smoke are


,.1 r f, ,I






HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED:


At.


-y

'V K


-' I'
K>.
N' -
N N


-. 4f *
69 -:.
~-41 '' sss

SSsfxa6w


'/7
-~~ -S 4_ t

~iPD-i9~ z

"- U""~,-;~ c~


ARTIST'S NOTE" FOR THE PICTURE OF THE BATTLE OF RAYMOND.


Captain Tresalian, an Irish officer on the staff of
General Logan. He was seated astride of the top-
most rail of the fence, across which, in some places,


the fight was going on with clubbed muskets; which
side the captain was most interested in was doubt-
ful, for, with cap in one hand and sword in the


THE BATTLE OF RAYMOND.


665


w^,-






HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.


THE FIELD OF BATTLE AT CHAMPION'S HILL.


other, he was encouraging both parties to go in,
and do their best, while he occupied a reserved
seat, a most interested spectator.
This man was a type of the soldier who loves a
fight, and true stories of some of his doings seem


almost too improbable to believe. I think he was
unconscious of danger, and I know that I was
not, for in some of my sketch-books there are
memorandum sketches of some battlefield occur-
rences which show plainly that the hand holding


ARTIST'S "NOTE" FOR ABOVE DRAWING.


666


[JULY,





HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.


AN INCIDENT OF THE VICKSBURG CAMPAIGN.


the pencil was unsteady; and jerky marks here and
there make it pretty plain that the locality was an
unsafe one. The surroundings, as well as the
danger, had some influence at the moment when
such sketches were made; for most of these
" Get-out-of-that" sketches, as my army friends
called them, show simply the locality of some
exciting incident, and not a general view, such as


that of the field at Champion's Hill (or Baker's
Creek, as the Confederate soldiers called the bat-
tle). The memorandum sketch of that action shows
a general view of the field, indicated with reason-
able distinctness--even if "corn f" does stand
for a field of corn! After leaving the spot, I saw
General Grant and some of his staff at that point,
and so introduced them in the sketch, to add inter-


"OUR SPECIAL ARTIST WORKING AT NIGHT.


667


x889.]






HOW A BATTLE IS SKETCHED.


est to the scene. Of a number of sketches made
during this battle, only one or two were finished to
send to the paper, for during the Vicksburg cam-
paign the movements and incidents occurred so
rapidly that it was difficult to decide what to spare
time for, so as to send sketches which would give
the best general idea of what had happened.
An incident which is worth telling took place
after the close of the battle of Champion's Hill.
The Confederates had started back to Vicks-
burg, and some of our troops marched hastily in
the same direction; clouds of dust rose from be-
yond the forest to the left of the road along which
we marched, and we were not surprised, upon
coming to a large field, to see soldiers marching
along a road on the opposite side, nor astonished
to see two mounted men leave the column and ride
toward two of our officers who had immediately
started to ascertain what troops those were. When,
presently, we saw these horsemen firing their re-
volvers at one another, we knew that those were not
our troops marching over there, and made arrange-
ments accordingly.
Some time after the close of the war, two gentle-
men met on a steamboat in the South, and each
thought that he recognized the other, though
where they had met neither could then recollect;
but it soon came out that it was on that 16th of
May, 1863, after the Champion's Hill engagement,


and as they shook hands for the first time each
was glad that his pistol-shot had done the other
no harm.
A glance at the illustration of "our special
artist" working late at night to finish his sketches,
makes me tired enough to stop right here; for it
brings to mind the many nights, when a few hours'
sleep was all the rest the Special could expect to,
have after a long day, during which nearly every
part of an army covering miles of country had been
visited and the general situation of the forces had
been ascertained.
Of the different ways of forwarding sketches,
the mail, next to a special messenger, was found
to be the quickest and safest; and now, looking
back at the prodigious work that was accomplished
by those whose duty it was to forward and receive
our army's mail, I know of nothing else wherein
the Government's care of the soldiers was more
fully displayed.
In closing this article, it ought to be stated that I
have made sketches upon many battle-fields where
the fighting was too extended for any single per-
son to hope to reach more than a few of the most
prominent points, and I have found that a sure
guide to these points was to go toward the place
where the heaviest musketry fire was heard,- not
a pleasant thing to do, but quite in the line of duty
for one who is special artist on the spot."


EIGHT-DAY CLOCKS.

BY JOEL STACY.


How often I 've sustained a shock,
Since I have owned my eight-day clock!
At first, I wound it once a week,
(Bless me! how the key did creak!)
And then I pondered: "Where's the need?
The thing would go at even speed
A whole day longer, if neglected;
And I, for one, can't be expected
To wind and wind on every Sunday
A clock that 's bound to run till Monday."
And yet each week to add a day,
And recollect, is not my way;
And this it is that bothers me; -
My clock and I do not agree.


Suppose you buy an eight-day clock,
And add it to your household stock,
And wind it every week, we '11 say,
Letting go that extra day;
How many times (to be quite clear),
Must it be wound within the year ?.
And on the other hand, suppose .
You let it run till toward its close,
And so, on each eighth day, delight
In winding it with gentle might,
. And never miss the task -'t is clear,
You '11 wind it fewer times a year;
But just how many times, you see,
May best be told by you, not me.


668











YOSHI HITO, HARU NO'MIYA, THE CHILD OF
MODERN JAPAN.

BY ELIZA RUHAMAH SCIDMORE.


YOSHI HITO, HARU NO MIYA, CROWN PRINCE OF JAPANN.


OF the children of the Emperor of Japan only
one son and one daughter remain to him, Prince
Haru and the Princess Hisa. Yoshi Hito, Haru
no Miya celebrated his ninth birthday on August
31, 1888, and if he lives will succeed his father on
the throne. Princess Hisa is three years old, but
although empresses have ruled Japan in the early
centuries, the line of succession passes from Prince
Haru to the cousins of the Emperor.
The word Haru in the Japanese language means
spring-time, and Aki, the name of the last little


prince who died, means autumn, so that the
imperial brothers, Prince Spring and Prince Au-
tumn, were often spoken of together, and the play
upon their names gave court poets many oppor-
tunities to turn graceful verses to them. Prince
Haru was born in the Tokio palace, and until his
second year lived in the imperial nurseries in the
Nakayama Yashiki, a black-walled place facing the
castle moats. After that he was transferred to the
palace of the Empress Dowager, but he now resides
with the Emperor. A new imperial palace has just





YOSHI HITO, HARU NO MIYA.


been built in Tokio, and in it there is a large
wing or pavilion that contains the apartments of
Prince Haru and his suite.
The present Emperor of Japan passed his boy-
hood, like his ancestors before him, in the seclusion
of the old imperial palace in Kioto. When he
came to the throne, in 1867, he was only fifteen
years of age, and had dreamed and imagined less
of the outside world than his little nine-year-old
son now actually knows. His early life had been
occupied with the study of the classics and the
routine of the most elaborate etiquette and most
long-drawn ceremonial known to any court of
the world. There was in his existence none of
the activity and excitement that crowd the daily
life of a European sovereign or crown prince, and
when he left the palace grounds it was in a closely
covered palanquin, or cart, and he could go only to
some other high-walled palace, temple, or mon-
astery grounds. He wore flowing, large-sleeved
garments of the heaviest brocades, that prevented
him from doing anything more than walking at a
most dignified pace, and a sedate promenade in
the palace gardens was as much exercise as he
ever took.
At the time the Emperor came to the throne the
war between his followers and those of the Shogun,
or military ruler, was fast approaching an open
conflict, and it ended, as we all know,* in the short
campaign of 1869, the overthrow of the Shogun and
the restoration of the secluded ruler to actual
power. A few battles near Kioto, the siege and
destruction of the Osaka castle, were the great inci-
dents of the struggle, and the defeated Shogun
escaped in disguise, first to a United States gun-
boat, and after leaving that refuge was captured by
the imperial forces. His life was magnanimously
spared; and, stripped of his power, titles, and
estates, he now lives as a private gentleman in the
small town of Shidzuoka, about one hundred miles
south of Tokio.
After his restoration to actual power the Em-
peror moved his court to Tokio, the old military
capital of the Shogun, and greatly changed his
manner of living and of conducting the nation's
affairs. He adopted for himself European dress
as his costume of ceremony, and soon uniformed
the army, the police, and civil-officers in the coat
and trousers of Western nations. The old nobles
were horrified to have their sovereign appear in the
Tokio streets in the open day, and to have any
one and every one looking upon his sacred coun-
tenance, but they have since become used to it.
Compared to his imperial father, even at the
present day, Prince Haru is much more emanci-
pated, and none of the old traditions seem to have


any weight in regulating his conduct. There was
no precedent to follow in the education of a Jap-
anese prince in the modern way, and Prince Haru
has made many laws for himself. He is a wonder-
fully bright and precocious little fellow, and his
small, twinkling black eyes are full of mischief
and see everything. He is hardly taller than an
American boy of six years of age, but he has at
times the dignity, the pride of birth, and con-
sciousness of station and power, of a man of sixty.
His eyes are not slanting, nor indeed does one often
see in a Japanese face the wonderfully oblique eyes
beloved of the caricaturists. The peculiarity in
the expression of their eyes is given by the eyelids
being fastened in either corner, as if a few stitches
had been taken there. This makes it impossible
for them to lift the eyelids as high as we do, and
gives the narrower slits through which they look
the peculiar Oriental look. One often sees Japa-
nese with as round, wide-open eyes as those of
our race, and it gives an especial beauty to their
countenances.
Prince Haru has the exquisitely smooth, fine
yellow skin that is one of the points of greatest
beauty in Japanese children, and a bright color
sometimes shows in the pale yellow of his little
cheeks. He has the rank of a colonel in the Jap-
anese army, and wears his military uniform and
his cap with the gold star all the time, his clothes
being dark-blue cloth in winter and white duck
in summer. He is fond of riding, and, when
mounted, the miniature colonel trots along at a
fine gait, giving and returning the military salute
as he passes an officer or a sentry, like a young
martinet. Being a prince, as well as a colonel, he
has a suite of nobles in attendance upon him,-
chamberlain, preceptor, secretary, equerry, and
aide-de-camp all going with the establishment of
this imperial mite. Many of these nobles are as
old as his father, and a few are old enough to be
his grandfathers. Even by taking their regular
turns at duty, the suite and staff in attendance
upon him are kept very busy by the active young
princeling. One set escort him to school, stay on
duty there and carry the books to and fro, and are
relieved by those who attend the mall Highness
in his hours of ease and play.
While Prince Haru has his separate establish-
ment in the palace, he often dines with the Em-
press Dowager, or sits in state at the table with
the Emperor and Empress. He is as apt in hand-
ling the knife, fork, and spoon, as he is with the
chopsticks, and comprehends all the etiquette of
offering or receiving a health" with one of the tall
champagne glasses, as well as the formalities at-
tending the use of the thin sake cups. He is said


* See article entitled Great Japan: the Sunrise Kingdom," in ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1888.


671






YOSHI HITO, HARU NO MIYA.


to talk to his father as unrestrainedly as to -any
member of his suite, to. politely answer back, con-
tradict.arid.give his-own little opinion, as if it were
anlordinary. father he addressed, instead of Mutsu
Hit6, Son of Heaven, and one hundred, and twenty-
first sovereign of the unbroken -line of .Japan's
imperial family. The Emperor is said to greatly
delightin .the boy's ways, and his chatter about
what he.sees and does;: and to the whole, court the
Heir Apparent is a wonderful and extraordinary
child.
Prince Haru attends the nobles' school in Tokio
and has private tutors besides. He is very quick
to learn and an ambitious student, a little more
assertive and argumentative than the usually timid,
docile,-gentle little: Japanese boys in the classes
with him. English is the foreign language that he
has decided to learn first, and he already knows
many conventional phrases of greeting and social
intercourse.
He enters into the tugs-of-war, football, and
other school games with the young noblemen who
are associated with him, and is as earnest in his
play as in everything else.
When he was only seven years old Prince Haru
had an unexpected wrestling match with a small
American toy of his 'own age. It was at a school
entertainment in Tokio,:and it began by Prince
-Har's noticing _that the young American kept
on his Tam o' Shanter cap:in the princely presence.
"Go and tell that boy to take off his hat!"
ordered the small prince to his aide-de-camp.
Before the officer could reach the offender,.the
insulted princeling slipped from his chair, strode
down, and knocked off the hat with his own hand.
Young America.never stopped to think who the
aggressor was, but struck back, and in a few
minutes the future emperor and one of our future
presidents had clinched, and were slapping and
pounding each other in the most democratic man-
ner. The horrified nobles of the prince's suite
and the frightened parents of the young American
separated them, and led them apart, neither com-
batant feeling- any regret for what he had done.
"That boy slapped me first, when I was n't
doing anything, to him!" persisted the young
American, whose parents were almost expecting to
be arrested or beheaded for the unprecedented


treatment of such a sacred being as the Imperial
Crown Prince.
"I have punished that boy for his .impoliteness
in wearing his hat in my presence," said the pom-
pous princeling, frowning at his suite, tightening
his little sword-belt and strutting up and down like
a young game-cock.
The tableaux and exercises went on quietly after
that prelude, and when supper-time came, Prince
Haru was seen eating pink and white ice-cream
elbow to elbow.with his-late opponent, and gal-
lantly feeding his own sponge-cake and celairs to
the opponent's pretty little yellow-haired sister.
Prince Haru inherits his father's love of horses
and horse-racing, and at the spring and autumn
races in Tokio is to be seen inthe imperial box.
When he attends without the Emperor, the Japa-
nese national anthem is played by the military
band .to announce the arrival of an imperial per-
sonage, and he is received with the same honors as
his father. The youngster carries a field-glass half-
as long as his arm, to watch the horses as they circle
about the great lotus-lake at the Uyeno park
track, and he is the most excited among the spec-
tators when the horses are on the last quarter.
He is critical and appreciative, too, at the fencing
and wrestling matches, and the Japanese athletic
sports and contests that survive from the old feudal
days.
The old conservative nobles are not pleased
with the idea of this very precocious and modern
young prince going about so much and seeing so
.much of the world. -They think him: too advanced
and too progressive, and consider that he is hav-
ing his own way too much; but those nobles do
not know boys and princes in other countries, and
being first of the -princes to. grow up.after the
restoration, everything has to be new and- experi-
mental in his case.. It. is proposed, that when
he reaches the .age of fifteen or sixteen years, he
shall go abroad with his tutors. Prince Haru will
spend several years on his travels around the
world, seeing the other nations of the earth, living
for a time in the great capitals, and studying the
methods.and results of the different forms of gov-
ernment, so that he may have a broad and general
knowledge of affairs before he is called upon to
become the ruler of Japan.


672







to buy a new Pug.

HOW
I PLAY
WITH MY
DOLLIES.





Playing CGoint to the "o&




ow -. I -





... ._ _- *---
:7-












S' 1 V .6'p '"" .--3l -
r>l -_.*, t'-C -,








___,__ ... .4 9 _.. .
,: -
7 ;M,, .- ,,n -' .._ .... ,1 -7-.







HOW POLLY AND PETER KEEP HOUSE.


BY DORA READ GOODALE.


MY uncle is threshing with Freddy;
My mother has gone to the fair;
I 've vowed to be steady as steady,
And baby, she 's tied in her chair:
I must brush up the hearth to look neater,
And put all the tea-cups away,-
There 's no one to help me but Peter,
And Peter,- why, Peter 's at play.

Just hear how the turkeys are crying,
And the calf is as hungry as two !
I '11 see if the cherries are drying,
And then there 's the churning to do:


In summer we churn in the cellar,
So baby can come there to stay -
I must think of a story to tell her
While Peter,- but Peter 's at play.

It is time that the chicken was over,
And my mending is scarcely begun,-
Here 's Peter come up from the clover,
And we never have dinner till one !
I '11 just make this sauce a bit sweeter
And bring out some cakes on a tray,-
He must be well treated, poor Peter,
He does work so hard at his play !


DOOMED!


VOL. XVI.-43.









MONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


SUMMER VACATION ALONG THE CORAL-REEFS
OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA.

=B Y CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER,
Member bf the N. Y. Academy of Science, Hon. Member of Linnean Society, etc., etc.

CHAPTER I.

LL ashore that's going ashore!" For the last time the
peremptory and ungrammatical order rang through the
vessel, the huge hawsers were cast off, the great propeller
blades moved restlessly, the big stack sent out volumes
of heavy smoke, and amid cheers and good-byes, the
waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the steamer "Daniel
Webster" moved away from the pier and, swinging
out into midstream, headed down-the bay for Florida
and the Gulf.
"We 're off at last," said George Ramsey, in a
tone of supreme satisfaction.
Yes," replied Professor Howard, who stood be-
side him, "our expedition may certainly be said
to be upon its way."
The expedition was none other than a va-
cation-trip of a party known as the Nat-
ural History Society of Wexford College."
It comprised the ten boys who had ranked
highest in the natural history course dur-
ing the college year, and they, under
charge of their instructor, Pro-
fessor Howard, were to spend
-%- the summer months in
field-work" among the






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


coral reefs of the Gulf of Mexico and the Florida
coast.
Old Mr. Redlow, one of the Board of Trustees
was the college benefactor, and he frequently
made large gifts of money to widen its scope
and influence. Recently he had proposed to give
to Professor Howard, who was in charge of the
Scientific Department, a fund to cover the ex-
penses of expeditions for field-work, to supplement
the theoretical studies in the class-room. Before
finally deciding upon this course, however, he pro-
posed to send such an expedition to Florida as an
experiment designed to show the need and benefit
of field-work, especially in natural history.
Professor Howard was only too glad to take
charge of the party, and not one of the ten stu-
dents who ranked highest in the class refused this
opportunity for a healthful and improving vacation.
Much difficult work was to be required from the
young students, but the idea of studying under such
delightful conditions and surroundings had filled
these ten boys with the brightest hopes,-and they
set forth for their summer schooling with scarce
restrained exuberance.
Down the broad river that borders the great
city glided the south-bound steamer. As the sun
went down, the steady rolling swell suggested the
deeper waters they were approaching.
Oh, see that porpoise cried Frank Vail sud-
denly, as a black body rose, making a graceful
curve in air several feet above the water. "I
did n't know they ever leaped so high as that."
"Indeed they do," replied Prof. Howard. "I
remember when I was a boy that a number of us
cornered a school of porpoises in a small Connect-
icut inlet, and, stretching our five boats across the
entrance, tried to drive them to the beach. The
porpoises were frightened and made a rush for
open water, dashing directly toward us. Most of.
them dived under the boats, but four big fellows
leaped right over our heads, clearing, I suppose,
some twenty feet in distance at one leap. I really
don't know which were the most astonished, we
boys or the porpoises "
Why did n't you hit them with an oar as they
went over you ?" asked Tom Derby.
"Well, Tom," said the Professor, laughing," if
I remember, we did n't think of it; we simply
dodged."
Here the supper-gong sounded and the "expe-
dition" was shortly seated at table, with the keen
appetite of youth sharpened by the salty air.
"You may not be so hungry to-morrow at
this time, my lads," said the captain, smiling at
their eagerness. "It will probably take you a
day or two to get your sea-legs on."
"Where do we get them, captain?" inquired


young Ramsey, to whom the expression was
new.
"Why, old Davy Jones keeps them in his
locker," said the. captain, who thought the boy
might be joking, amid the laughter of the rest,
and if the wind freshens up a bit you can expect
him aboard to-morrow."
"Now, young gentlemen," said Professor How-
ard, as they all gathered in the cabin after supper,
"it is a good time to say a word about our plans
for work. Although our trip is to be for study,
we wish to combine all proper pleasure with it.
If we are not interested by our studies, there is lit-
i tie profit in attempting them. So, in the first place,
we shall endeavor to busy ourselves with broad
elementary observations, and the simpler facts of
animal life. The investigation and study which is
the real object of this expedition will, therefore,
come easily to you all. As there are ten of you, I
propose to make each of five couples responsible
for a certain group of animal life, and that group
is to be considered the specialty of each pair. You
will be required to keep daily a brief journal of
your discoveries, and to learn as much as possible
about the structure and habits of such specimens
as you may find. A portion of our evenings can
usually be spent over the microscope, or in talks
over each day's work, and find of specimens. I
have heard it said that natural' history is a dry
study, but I hope to prove that a fallacy, and-to
show you that there is nothing more exciting,
health-giving, and instructive than what is called
'field-work.' Here are your special divisions,
arranged, I think, somewhat according to your
tastes and leanings: Eatonand Douglas will take
the Radiates--the star-fishes, corals, and all ani-
mals that spread from the center; Ludlow and Vail,
the Mollusks or shell-fish, and so on; Hall and
Ramsey, the Crustaceans-as crabs and craw-fish;
Carrington and Raymond, birds and reptiles;
Woodbury and Derby, the insects and such land
animals as we may find. Although you have these
special subjects, you are to collect everything and
endeavor to learn as much as you can. Our speci-
mens will be carefully preserved the smaller or
more delicate forms in alcohol;-sea-weeds must be
pressed, while some of the fishes and all of the
birds need to be skinned." The boys listened at-
tentively to the Professor's directions.
Although thoroughly enjoying the voyage,-
after the much dreaded Hatteras, and the still
more dreaded sea-sickness had been safely weath-
ered,-they looked forward with keen expectation
to the run ashore and to the study that was to be
so much like play.
And so, late one afternoon, as they hung over
the gunwale studying the frequent patches of gulf





AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


weed which make up the celebrated Sargasso Sea,
the Professor told them that this weed was the
home of myriads of strange creatures.* Suddenly
they heard from the pilot-house the cheery cry,
"Land ho!"
"Where, where? shouted all the boys, as
with straining eyes they looked across the great
stretch of blue water.
The captain, who was leaning out of the pilot-
house window, pointed to the west, and the boys,
following with their eyes the direction of his
finger, saw what seemed only a dim and hazy
mist.
"That is Florida," said Professor Howard,.
" and we are near the capes."
Soon, out of the hazy mist came into view the
long line of white beach and its background* of
trees, and then the course of the steamer was
changed and both beach and trees passed from
sight again. The weather was delightfully warm;
strange sea-birds appeared on the water,- which
shone like a sea of glass; zigzag ripples formed
behind the sickle-fin of a great shark as he sculled
slowly along just beneath the surface. The
setting sun was throned in gorgeous colors; er-
mined clouds floated in the background, upon
which were lighter fleeces fringed with gold and
gloriously tinted with purple and scarlet. The
purest vermilion and lake, brilliant and gem-like,
shone almost to scintillation, and rays of azure and
gold spread quite to the zenith, lending reflected
coloring to the ascending cloud-banks. The sea was
lighted up to exceeding beauty. Around the
throne of the slowly sinking sun, all was moving,
changing, and dissolving, and the spectacle culmi-
nated in a scene of rarest brilliancy as the view
closed behind the great curtain of the sea.
"My, though! exclaimed Vail, as silently,
almost solemnly, the members of the expedition
witnessed their first really tropical sunset; "it 's
almost like a transformation scene, is n't it, boys ? "
And then as the Southern Cross hung over the
dark water-line and Canopus of the South blazed
out in all its splendor, the boys paced their last
evening up and down the vessel's deck and en-
joyed the full beauty of the brilliant heavens with
All the more zest because they knew that early the
next morning they would land in Key West.

CHAPTER II.

THEY found Key West (the name of the island
is an English corruption of the Spanish Cayo Hueso,
or Bone Island) a curious town of some thirteen
thousand inhabitants, built on the north-western
part of a small coral-island, nowhere more than
twenty feet above the sea, but with an excellent


harbor. There were sights enough on both sea and
shore, to fill profitably the brief time they were to
spend there while the Professor was arranging for
the little smack in which to make their tour of the
Keys--under which general name is grouped the
line of coral reefs and sand-banks fringing the
Florida coast-line beyond its southernmost cape.
The owner of the Sallie," the smack they had
engaged, was known to every one in Key West as
Paublo. He was a good-natured fellow and was
quite ready to give the boys every opportunity to
make a tour of the island and the neighboring
waters; and one morning, as he held his dinghy
near the smack with his handy boat-hook, he
called out:
If any of you young men care to go turtling,
hop aboard and I'll row you over to Conchtown."
The invitation was gladly accepted by the entire
expedition, and Paublo soon pulled around to the
head of the island to the mixed Spanish and Negro
settlement, shaded by palms and tropical trees,
known as Conchtown. As they approached the
point the boys saw what seemed like a number of
fences extending from the water. These, Paublo
said, were "turtle-crawls," or pens about fifty
feet square, in which the captured turtles are
confined.-
Seeing the boat, a number of dusky urchins, who
were wading along the shore, rushed out and, be-
fore the boat had reached the crawls, had headed
it off and begged to be allowed to catch the tur-
tles. Paublo, perfectly willing to escape such hard
work, readily consented, and having made the boat
fast near one of the gates, he told the boys to catch
three of the largest turtles.
Four of the Conch boys," throwing off their
scanty clothing, noiselessly lowered themselves into
the water, which, within the crawls, was about five
-feet deep.
Some twenty or thirty large turtles, of the green
and the loggerhead species, could be plainly seen
through the clear water lying asleep on the white
sandy bottom. Each Conch boy selected a turtle
and, swimming toward it from behind, suddenly
dived down and caught the sleeping victim by the
rim of shell just over its head. Not one missed
his grasp, and the next moment the amused
watchers saw the captured turtles raise their heads
as if in surprise and look quickly around. Then
came a grand mixture of flippers, Conch boys'
heads, and dashing spray, while the puffing and
blowing from both turtles and riders would have
done credit to a school of whales.
Up to the surface they came like shots, then
down again at race-horse speed, dragging their
captors after them, rousing all the other turtles in
the pen and sending them tearing up and down


* See article, "A Floating Home," in ST. NICHOLAS for October, x888.


676


[JULY,






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


the inclosure. The Conch boys who were hav-
ing so furious a turtle-ride seemed to enjoy the
sport immensely; holding fast by one hand, they
stretched themselves at full length on the turtles'
backs, drawing deep breaths whenever they rose to
the surface, and taking the dives and the waves as
they came along, until the captured turtles- after
a struggle of nearly twenty minutes were finally
tiredout. Then the Conchboys, grasping the rims
of the shells with both hands, kneeled squarely on
the turtles' backs, and fairly forced their heads out
of water and steered them toward the boat where
Paublo and the boys of the expedition all "lent a
hand and soon had theogame aboard. The flip-
pers were then slit, those on each side tied to-
gether, and Paublo's marketing was done.


"I suppose that is our 'fresh beef' for two
weeks to come," laughed Vail, surveying the cap-
tive monsters.
"Talk about lassoing wild horses!" said
Douglas; why, it 's nothing to catching turtles."
I would n't mind trying a turtle-ride myself,"
said Tom Derby, as Paublo pulled away for the
town.
You '11 have opportunities enough at Garden
Key," said Paublo, and right on the clear reef,
too. I 've had a big loggerhead tow me an hour
before I tired him out, and they are likely to bite,
too,-which makes it all the more exciting."
As soon as the Sallie was ready for her cruise
the expedition went on board, bade farewell to
Key West, shook out the mainsail, and were soon
bowling along before the pleasant trade
wind, with Sand Key light dead-ahead.
They ran by Fort Taylor, with its
bristling guns, past the great
white beach where the slaves
were once barracooned (or
penned in) during the
cruel old "slavery days,"
and quickly were well
off-shore and heading
S ___out into the south-west
--channel.
The smack was a
roomy little vessel, and
[ was provided with a
-- nice cabin, containing
four berths, each for two
persons, while well-cush-
ioned seats made good beds
for the others. When they
were-fairly out of the harbor
they threw their kingfish lines
over the side, and so trolled along,
half expecting a bite. Soon a cry
from Carrington attracted their attention.
He was braced against the bulwarks, haul-
ing at his line with might and main.
"I 've got him!" he cried. But that
became somewhat doubtful, as the fish gave
a surge and took the line through the lad's
fingers at a rate that made them burn.
Paublo luffed the smack, and they shortly
had the kingfish alongside. It proved to be
a splendid fellow, about four feet long, of
a steel-blue and silver color, and with a long
and rakish jaw.
Don't lift him by the line," said Paublo,
unshipping a pair of grains that hung in the
shrouds, or you 'll tear out his jaw. Now,
hold him up."
Carrington and Tom Derby lifted the fish


i889.]


677





AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


slightly, Paublo hurled the barbs into its neck, and
by the combined efforts of the three the fish was
lifted to the deck, where it threshed around and
gave them all a lively few moments, dodging its
dangerous tail.
Paublo took him in hand, however, and before
long a rich odor floated aft that told of a coming
dinner and a good one. Two more kingfish were
caught during the afternoon, and by five o'clock
that afternoon the smack anchored off the Mar-
quesas a group of picturesque coral-islands, cov-
ered with mangrove trees, half-way between Key
West and Rebecca Shoals.
The boys soon had out the dinghy and were pull-
ing toward the shore, when there came a loud
splash not a hundred feet beyond them Now one
and then another great white fin was seen, and,
with the cry of Sharks the boat's head was
turned toward the splashing.
Don't make any noise, boys," whispered Tom,
as he made a long lead- or sounding-line fast to the
thwarts and, grains in hand, stood prepared for
Section as the boat neared the mysterious fins.
"Here's one coming this way," cried Tom,
raising the iron as he spoke.
Hardly had he uttered the words when a great
black body appeared near the bow and Tom let
drive, with a result that appalled them all. An
immense fish, over twenty feet long, and in appear-
ance like a monster bird, rose into the air and then
came down with a crash that sounded like the blast
of a cannon. The waves nearly filled the boat,
and the boys were thrown down in a body by the
sudden shock. Bob Carrington had been holding
the coil of rope, but had fortunately remembered
to throw it overboard, leaving the end fast to the
bow.
That 's no shark! said Ludlow, as he picked
himself up from the bottom of the boat.
"I should say not," replied Tom; "but what
do you suppose it is ? Just see it go !"
The fish was rushing away, making the water
foam and boil.
"Stand by the line," shouted Vail; "it'll be
taut in a second "
Away we go cried Douglas.
SAnd go they did. For now the fish had run
out the whole length of line, and, with a sudden
jerk, away flew the boat, bow under, at race-horse
speed.
"Cut the rope! yelled Eaton excitedly, pick-
ing himself up for the third time.
Hold on a minute," said Bob Carrington, who
had caught the line at the notch; I 've got the
hatchet, and when I 'm sure he 's too much for us
I '11 cut the rope."
But just then they heard Paublo's voice. He


was calling to them from the smack, between his
rounded hands and at the top of his voice:
Cut the line Cut the line don't let him
foul the line. It's a devil-fish!"

CHAPTER III.

THE boat tore along the channel at a terrible
rate, but as it turned a curve, the excited boys saw
that their strange steed was rushing to its own
sure destruction, for the channel ended in a mud
flat.
They were right. In its terror the great fish ran
high up on the dead coral in about three feet of
water. The line slackened at once, and the boys
now put out their oars and, after stopping the boat's
headway, pulled off to watch the dying struggles.
The fish was beating the water with tremendous
power. Its head was fully exposed, and as they
pulled in range, Tom put a load of buckshot into
it and ended its struggles.
When, shortly after, Paublo and the Professor
were brought ashore, and they all walked round to
view their capture, Paublo said, Well! you boys
had a narrow escape. I thought it must be a
devil-fish, and so it was, sure enough! If the line
had fouled, he would have upset you in a second."
The huge creature was measured, and found to
be seventeen feet across, and it was estimated to
weigh fully three tons.
"Its name," said the Professor, "is Cefpalop-
tera, and it is one of the largest of the Ray family,
to which belong also the skate, the thornback, and
the torpedo."
The boys carried away the tail as a souvenir, and
then pulled around to the sandy beach off which
the smack was anchored.

"Give way hard!" said Paublo, and with a
rush the boat was sent on the beach, whereupon
the boys all tumbled out and hauled her above
the water line.
They started at once to explore the beach, and
soon came upon an old wreck, which the tides had
evidently driven higher and higher, year after year,
until it was now high and dry, the haunt of crabs
and gulls, which had evidently taken complete
possession. Tom noted one bird of so brilliant a
red that he determined to secure it. A shot from
his gun brought it down with a broken wing. It
started for the water at once, but Hall dashed into
the surf and caught it just in time.
"Is n't that a splendid fellow to set up in our
collection ?" asked Tom. It's a spoonbill, is n't
it, Professor?"
"Yes," replied the Professor, "and a fine speci-
men, too. Its feathers, you see, are blood red,
and its bill is spread out at the end, not unlike the


678


[JULY,






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


bowl of a spoon. Hence its name, the Roseate
Spoonbill. The Platalea, or spoonbill, belongs to
the same family as the heron, to which it is closely
allied."
After a stroll, followed by a rest on the beach,
the expedition took to the boat again, intending to
make a circuit of the little island. As they pushed
out, Eaton said, looking down through the clear
water: .
"Why, the bottom of the sea is as beautiful as
a garden, is n't it ?"
Yes," replied the Professor, "just see it here,
below us: the corals, fans, plumes, and sea-weeds
are the plants; the Gulf Stream surges through
their branches as wind plays through the trees on
land; and as land-plants absorb the excess of car-
bonic-acid gas, these marine trees secrete the lime
salts, rejecting the soluble salts of sodium and other
substances that are not necessary for them. The
land-plants purify the air so that we can breathe it,
and the plant-gardens do a similar work in the
ocean, purifying the sea-water, keeping down the
excess of salts that would be unwholesome for the
fishes and other animals."
And how about the animal life, Professor?"
inquired Ramsey.
The likeness holds good," replied the Profes-
sor; "for there are many curious similarities.
The seals, manatees, and whales are the cows of the
sea; the sharks are the eagles; the crabs are the
insects; the bird-of-paradise finds'a worthy imi-
tator in the fantastic angel-fish that may be seen
among these very coral reefs. For every animal
on land there is in the sea some creature which
seems to fulfill the same office, though, of course,
under changed conditions."
The conversation was here interrupted by the
dinghy coming to a sudden stand-still. It had run
into a great bunch of sea-weed.
"It's a regular young Sargasso Sea," saidWood-
bury, laughing. "We could almost use this as an
anchor."
"That has been done with some species," said
the Professor. "There is found near Tierra del
Fuego a gigantic sea-weed called the Macrocystis
pyrifera, which grows in water .240 feet deep, in-
clined at an angle of 45 degrees, and is so firmly
rooted that vessels during smooth water are fre-
quently made fast to it."
Here Tom Derby, who had been towing after
him a mass of the weed, suddenly noticed that
some spherical pieces of the weed had separated
from the rest. Seizing one of them, he tossed it
into the boat.
Here 's a marine base-ball," said he.
Professor Howard picked it up.
"This is a very interesting discovery, Derby,"


he announced. Your marine base-ball is really
the nest of a peculiar fish, about four inches long,
that lives on the surface of the water in this Gulf-
weed. The nest is made up, as you see, of pieces
of sargassum, wound in and out, and matted
together in a curious fashion, and then pressed
into its spherical shape by bands of a glutinous
secretion from the fish that look like strings of
jelly."
When the nest had been opened, the eggs of
the fish were found, fastened to the leaves in great
numbers; and Tom, who still retained some of the
loose pieces, was fortunate enough to find among
them the odd fish itself.
It is called the Antennarias," said the Profes-
sor; "and a more curious fellow could scarcely be
imagined. You will notice that he mimics the
color of the sea-weed."
"And see," said Vail, "these things that look
like bits of the weed, on its head and fins, are really
part of its flesh."
The Professor had placed Tom's prize in a pail
of water. They are slow swimmers, you see,"
he said, as the fish moved lazily about, and
prefer to lie undisturbed among the protecting
branches of the sea-weed."
I should like to see the baby-fish when they
are hatched," said Raymond. There must be a
thousand of them."
More than that," said the Professor. "Why,
boys, if all the eggs of fishes were hatched, or-if
all the young grew up, there would not be water
enough on the earth to float them. There is
always another fish of some kind that preys upon
Each particular species, and they in turn are de-
voured by others. There must, therefore, be many
born, if any are to survive. But, without this
check to the increase, the fish would multiply with
marvelous rapidity. Suppose, for instance, the
eggs of the cod, which lays -by trustworthy cal-
culations-over nine millions of eggs, should all
be hatched and grow to maturity, the bodies of the
cod alone would, before many years, seriously im-
pede navigation."
The boys concluded that it was fortunate so
many fish enjoyed a cod-fish diet..
The boat had now nearly completed the round
of the island when, on making a sudden turn, they
came upon a number of white cranes and gannets.
The cranes rose quickly, but the sportsman Tom,
ivho usually had his gun ready, brought one down,
very neatly, on the wing. The stupid gannets
had not rhoved even yet, and Ramsey declared
that they well deserved their name of "boobies."
The boys pulled out and picked up the body of
the crane. It was a beautiful white bird with a
yellow patch on its breast.


1889.]


679





AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


It is the Ardea herodias, or Great Heron,"
said the Professor. This yellowspot on its breast
is supposed to be capable of giving out a bright
phosphorescence in the dark."
"Don't shoot," said Bob Carrington, as Tom
took aim at the gannets, who were still regarding
their strange visitors in stupid amazement. Let
me scare them." So taking a large piece of coral
that he had picked up on the beach, he flung it
toward the birds. The gannets rose slowly, as the
coral splashed up the water, but, to the great


being full of air, the coral floats easily on the
water."
Hold on a minute," said Douglas, as the boat
grated over some branch-coral, knocking off thou-
sands of tips. The dinghy was stopped, and
Douglas, leaning over the side, tore off a branch of
coral. Hanging to it was a beautiful anemone.
Douglas handed it, with a bow, to the Professor,
and it was placed in a glass of water. Very soon
the anemone threw out its beautiful tentacles like
the petals of a flower.


"THE BOAT TORE ALONG THE CHANNEL AT A TERRIBLE RATE."


astonishment of the boys, Bob's piece of coral, in-
stead of sinking, floated lightly on the water like a
piece of wood.
"All stones don't sink, you see, Carrington,"
said the Professor, laughing to see Carrington's
look of surprise. That coral does n't mean to
be left out of our collection; and seriously I think
we had better keep that specimen," he added,
and the floating coral was again picked up.
"But what is it,-and why is it,--Professor?"
asked Hall.
It is what might be called the skeleton of the
coral called Meandrina spongiosa," explained the
Professor; "and when the animals die, it be-
comes bleached. It is very porous, and the pores


"That is more like a flower than an animal,
Professor," said Woodbury.
"Yes," replied Professor Howard, and related
to the corals. You can form a very good idea of the
coral-animals from this anemone. They all belong
to the class called Actinozoa. The body, as you
see, is a cylinder, its top fringed with tentacles,
while the base is a disk with which it adheres to the
coral. The mouth is here, surrounded by tentacles,
and directly below is the stomach, hanging in the
body and held in place by six vertical partitions.
Water in this animal seems to serve the purposes
of blood."
"His blood is no 'thicker than water,' then?"
said Douglas, with an air of sober inquiry.


680


[JULY,






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


The Professor smiled indulgently and resumed:
"The tentacles, under the microscope, are seen to
be covered with minute cavities, in each of which
is coiled a delicate, hair-like javelin that is darted
out on the slightest provocation. Now, if a small
crab or shrimp bumps against these tentacles,
myriads of these darts shoot out, striking and par-
alyzing the intruder, and the tentacles draw it down
into the stomach of the anemone."
"Have they no eyes ?" asked Tom.
"Yes," said the Professor, "they are here, at
the base of the tentacles, but are too small to be
seen in this little specimen. The anemone are
produced from eggs, or by what is called budding.
The latter process is extremely simple, the animal
apparently tearing off bits of its disk as it moves
along, each of which in a few days throws out ten-
tacles and becomes a new anemone. I have man-
ufactured them by hundreds, cutting off little pieces
from the disk, each piece very accommodatingly
turning into a young actinia."
It would be a cheap business to go into-all
you need is one anemone to start it," said Douglas
with a laugh.
Hardly a profitable one, nevertheless," said
the Professor.
The mast of the smack could now be seen beyond
the beach. Paublo, who had been searching for
turtle's eggs, hailed the dinghy, and soon after
they were alongside. An awning was rigged over
the stern and tempered the heat so that it was
not too great for comfort. Toward evening abreeze
sprang up, and as they had nothing to detain them
longer, Professor Howard proposed that they run
on, the wind being.favorable, so as to reach Gar-
den Key in the morning. The smack was accord-
ingly got under way, and they were soon driving
along toward Rebecca Shoals, leaving Marquesas
far astern.
CHAPTER IV.

WHEN the boys staggered up on deck about
daybreak next morning, they found the Sallie
spinning along at a brisk rate, a strange dinghy
towing astern, and two men, evidently its owners,
sitting" on the weather rail of the smack. These,
the boys soon learned, were "Long John" and
Rob Rand, pilots and fishermen among the Keys,
who had come aboard during the night, having
been hired by the Professor to act as guides and
assistants to the expedition, during its stay among
the Tortugas. The morning was perfect. To
the starboard and' north, a large Key was seen
apparently hanging in the water. This was East
Key, while beyond it Middle and Sand Keys ap-
peared like bits of silver against the blue of the
Gulf. Dead ahead was Brush Key, beyond rose


the grim walls of a great fortress, while still farther
away, seemingly from out a long line of mist, rose
the tall tower of Loggerhead Light-house. All
around the group and far to the south stretched
a line of foam that seemed to indicate impassable
reefs. Gradually the walls of the fortress came
more plainly into view, the boys could distinguish
the waves as they beat upon the coral shores and,
running past Sand Key, the Sallie suddenly went
about and headed up the narrow channel that
led to the east of the fort
At a word from Paublo, the boys manned the
halyards and jib down-haul, Paublo luffed the
smack and, as she came up, away went the anchor,
the mainsail came rattling down, and the Sallie
lay snugly moored under the frowning walls of Fort
Jefferson on Garden Key.
Long John shoved off to bring the luggage-
boat, and the Professor reported that he had made
arrangements for the party to sleep on shore.
As Long John rowed away. in his .dinghy, the
boys were surprised to see a pelican that had been
quietly flying overhead suddenly circle down and
alight on the boatman's head, flapping its great
Swings and uttering a queer asthmatic sound.
John pushed the bird away, and it then tried to
alight on Bob Rand, but failing this; it settled
down in the dinghy as if determined to have a
ride anyway, whether welcomed or not.
"Well, that's the queerest thing I ever saw,"
said Tom Derby, as the boys looked laughingly

on. Are all the birds around here as tame as
that, Paublo ?"
"Not all, sir," replied Paublo. "That's one
of John's pets. It follows him all over, just as a
pet dog might; and when he's too lazy to fish, the
old pelican will do it for him. They are a queer
pair. Long John could tame anything. You
must see his pets. He has some of the oddest
kinds."
Bob Rand was soon sculling back a large flat-
bottomed boat, into which the luggage was thrown,
and after its return the boys eagerly scrambled in,
and quickly reached the shore. The land outside
the fort was only about an acre in extent, and con-
tained several old buildings used as store-house,
hospital, and laborers' quarters, while the fort was
garrisoned during the busy war-days. All were now
deserted except the large building. Here the two
pilots lived, and it was to be the temporary home
of .the expedition. The boys were conducted into
a large room upon the second story, the windows
of which opened on a large piazza, overlooking the
harbor. They speedily made themselves at home.
Knapsacks were emptied, boxes unpacked, the
alcohol was poured into numerous small cans,
books and drawing implements, microscopes and.


1889.]






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


other apparatus were placed in order on a large fort, and near by an overhanging boat-house they
table in an adjoining room, and the expedition was found an aquarium of rock-coral some twenty feet
now, as Tom said, "ready for business." square. Here Tom Derby and Bob Carrington
The weather was delightful; the mellow moon- lingered, while the other boys ran along the sea-
wall that encircled the


Tort Jefferson


light streamed through the open window, and from
the distant reef came the sullen roar of the surf,
above which was heard occasionally the cry of a
laughing gull.
Next day the great fort was thoroughly explored.
The boys wandered through the groves of cocoa-
palms, bananas, and climbing-vines that gave
Garden Key its name, paced the cedar avenue
that led up to headquarters, and even played a
game of base-ball on the pleasant parade-ground,
turfed with Bermuda grass. Finally, their wan-
derings brought them opposite the entrance to the


moat. Derby and Car-
rington were soon joined
at the aquarium by Pro-
fessor Howard and Long
John. The latter had a
piece of conch. in his
hand, and drawing a
sheath-kfiifefrom hisbelt
he proceeded to cut off
little pieces of the meat
and toss them to the
motley crowd of fishes that
scurried to the surface.
The fish were so tame that
they almost jumped out of
the water in their efforts to
reach their'protector.
The fish were new to the
boys, and most interesting,
owing to the great variety
of shapes and colors.


Oh, is n't that an angel-fish? cried Tom, as in and
among John's queer pets darted a fish of gorgeous
rs. Slashes of blue, gold, brown, and white covered
body, while the long dorsal and ventral fins gave
marine dandy a most fantastic appearance, not
ke that of a gayly dressed harlequin.
Yes, that is an angel-fish," replied
the Professor, "and the species are
well named, too, I think, for they are
the most beautiful of fishes."
Long John here stooped down and
put his hands into the water, with
fingers spread apart. Three or four
little fishes at once swam between his
S fingers, rubbing their gills against
them in the most friendly manner.
On the surface floated several gar-
fish, their long, delicate noses armed
with sharp teeth; parrot-fish, with
real bills; cow-fish with horns; snappers, porgies,
toad-fish, and numerous others, all crowding each
other and fighting for the white bits of shell-fish
tossed in to them by Long John.
There 's one fish that don't get anything,"
said Bob. And see how he acts when the others
come near. He acts just as if he was trying to hit
them with his tail."
That's exactly what he is doing," said Long
John, and every time. He does n't belong here,
but he comes in every day. Just hand me that
net and I'11 show you what he does."


6892


[JULY,


7






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


Tom handed the scoop-net, and Long John dex-
terously inserting it under the fish, landed him
under the boys' eyes. He looked much like a com-
mon porgie, but when Long John, telling the boys
to watch, touched the fish with his knife, to their
surprise a sharp knife darted out of a sheath near
the fish's tail, and was as suddenly sheathed again.
Gracious, it 's a regular knife, is n't it? cried
Bob, with wide open eyes.
You 'd think so, if you should feel it," said
Long John. "Every fish that comes in range
thinks so, too, for this wicked little chap gives'em
a slash, just as you saw him doing when he flung
his tail round."
It is called the Acantharus chirurgus, which
may be translated doctor-fish," said the Professor,
as he touched the fish again, and the ugly-looking
knife was thrust forth.
"I reckon if he knew he had such a handle as
that to his name he'd be so mad he'd kill every


Keep still," whispered Long John, with warn-
ing finger. Keep quiet and you '11 see a game
of leap-frog."
And, sure enough, they did, but the "frogs"
were a turtle and the fish. The hawk's-bill was float-
ing with its back several inches out of water, when
suddenly a gar-fish leaped completely over him.
Another tried, half-turning in the air, three more
followed suit,-one turning a complete somer-
sault,-while still another, not quite so dexterous,
failed in his act of lofty tumbling and landed
plump on the turtle's back, startling him so that
he dove out of sight.
Well, I did n't know that fishes played games
before," said Tom.
"They do though," replied Long John, and
as for these fellows, they give that poor turtle no
peace. The minute he comes to the surface they
begin their tricks, and if they can't jump over
him, they find some floating stick or straw and


A GAME OF LEAP-FROG.


fish in the place," said Long John, with a chuckle,
as he threw the vicious fellow back.
Other fish swam in mid-water -delicate jelly-
fishes coming to the surface now and then with a
graceful sweep of their waving tentacles, several
small green-turtles, and here and there a good-
sized hawk's-bill or tortoise-shell turtle, the kind
furnishing the shell from which combs are made.


practice on that. Oh, fishes are much the same
as you boys, I tell you,- full of fun and all kinds
of nonsense."
The rest of the party now joined them, and
Long John spent some time in exhibiting his pets,
while the Professor drew their attention to the
different kinds of coral which grew in the aquarium.
"John has given us the use of this house," he


r889.]


683





AMONG-THE FLORIDA KEYS.


said later, "and it is exactly the place for our
studies. I shall have the books and instruments
brought here where you can study at leisure .the
habits of your collections both theoretically and
practically."
Paublo, who had spent the morning fitting out
a boat for use on the reef, now came up to report
that it was in readiness, and the whole party
started for the middle wharf, where both the reef-
boat and the dinghy awaited them. In the former
had been placed two large cans containing alcohol
for the reception of specimens. A number of long
coral-hooks (iron instruments or tongs not unlike
small oyster-claws) and eight or nine grains "-


long poles ending in two-tined spear-heads, with
barbed points--were arranged in the boats, and
over the bows were hung several scoop-nets. A
jug called a "monkey," used for carrying water,
with the oars and a sprit-sail, completed the outfit
of the reef-boat, while the dinghy carried the small
seine and also provided room for the overflow of
passengers.
Dinner was quickly over, and then, as Professor
Howard called out, "All aboard for the reef! a
rush was made to the wharf, and in high spirits
the young naturalists were speedily under way,
pulling with rapid strokes across the deep. blue
water toward the outer reefs.


(To be continued.)


401-.


--
. ...... z--. -,


BY TUDOR JENKS.


WHEN Dorothy and I took tea, we sat upon the floor,
Np matter how much tea I drank, she always gave me more;
Our table was the scarlet box in which her tea-set came,
Our guests, an armless, one-eyed doll, a wooden horse gone lame.


684


[JULY,


......
..
i





x889.] SMALL AND EARLY. 685

She poured out nothing, very fast,-the tea-pot tipped on high,--
And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by my dull eye.
She added rich (pretended) cream -it seemed a willful waste,
For though she overflowed the cup, it did not change the taste.
She asked, "Take milk? or "Sugar ?" and though I answered, No,"
She put them in, and told me that I "must take it so "
She 'd say, Another cup, Papa ? and I, No, thank you, Ma'am,"
But then I hadto take it- her courtesy was sham.
Still, being neither green, nor black, nor English-breakfast tea,
It did not give her guests the "nerves "- whatever those may be.
Though often I upset my cup, she only minded when
I would mistake the empty cups for those she 'd filled again.
She tasted my cup gingerly, for fear I 'd burn my tongue;.
Indeed, she really hurt my pride- she made me feel so young.
I must have drank some two-score cups, and Dorothy sixteen,
Allowing only needful time to pour them, in between.
We stirred with massive pewter spoons, and sipped in courtly ease,
With all the ceremony of the stately Japanese.
At length she put the cups away. Good-night, Papa," she said;
And I went to a real tea, and Dorothy to bed.



































You see us here upon our farm,
My tall, straight wife and I.
We lead a very quiet life -
Which no one can deny.


Uur pig was never known to grunt,
Nor yet our cow to moo;
Our sheep has never made a bleat.
We think it strange. Don't you?

There's one tree in our orchard; and
We can not tell the reason,
It never yet has borne us fruit -
It 's always out of season.

Another master troubles us,
And sorely hurts our pride: -
The man that made C.ur pretty.


BY FRANCIS RANDALL.


To paint the house so gay was
kind.
But what a poor inventor,
To make it of a solid block
Impossible to enter!


And then our barn is quite absurd.
In height it's not as big
As is our cow; in length it's just
The length of our white pig.

But Jennie is our dearest friend;
She loves our pretty cattle,
And often talks to us for hours
In sweet and loving prattle.

If barn and house were rightly made -
Theiv 'r not. oh, i hat a pit -
We '.j advertice, in iumrmier-timrn,
For boh-ders from the ci\N.


I



.. --.V r




















BY LILLIAN L. PRICE.


DAME WRIGHT
had just taken
the last loaves
from the oven,
and was dust-
ing off some
ashes from the
wooden bread-
shovel before
she replaced it
y f in its corner.
Clear spring
sunlight streamed into the kitchen, warming the
stone floor to a deep brown color, and touch-
ing the mugs and platters on the dresser, till
they fairly winked back its brightness. A robin
outside was whistling gayly, and a long branch
of lilac buds peeped in at the wide-swung upper
door, as if desirous of finishing its career in
the blue and gold pitcher which stood on the
dresser, even before it had attained to bloom on
its own native bush. A patter of flying feet
sounded outside, and the lower door was flung
hastily open, revealing a little figure in a long,
blue cloak, the hood of which, fallen back, dis-
covered ahead of short-cropped, curly hair. Lae-
titia's eyes were dilated with surprise and terror,
and before the astonished dame could comment on
her disheveled appearance, she gasped out:
Oh, Grandmother, the British are crossing the
valley, and Master Paxton saith they will camp
here at nightfall! He saith thou and Grandfather
must hasten to depart at once. Thou shalt have
two of his horses, and accompany him to the huts
on the mountain side "
"Neighbor Paxton is a kindly man. Calm
thyself, Laetitia. When thou hast thy breath, run
to the mill, child, and bid thy grandfather come.
Alas! for these troublous times when the aged and
children fly before the march of strong men!"
With a sad, anxious face, she began instant
preparations, while Laetitia, hurriedly pulling her
hood over her curls, sped down the path toward the


mill. She met her grandfather coming homeward.
He was old, feeble, and bent, clad in homespun.
Laetitia," he said, as she trotted along at his
side, "vex not thy grandmother this day with
foolish terrors, but lend thy help like the willing
little handmaiden that thou art, and remember
that all things come from the hand of the Lord."
Laetitia glanced up at his face.
"But will not the redcoats spoil the house of
goods and furniture, perhaps burn thy dear home,
Grandfather, and thou an old man without sons -
and Grandmother, too, so old ? "
"I know not, my daughter. So far, the Lord
hath spared my gray hairs, though this war hath
taken the five boys, my five brave lads!" His
voice shook. "But thou must be brave, Laetitia.
Thou art our one ewe lamb."
"I will, then, Grandfather. Not another tear
will I shed."
They entered the yard, bright with violet-
sprinkled grass, and found Dame Wright busily
packing what she could, into secret places, and
piling up household treasures, for burial in the
woods. Laetitia flitted hither and yon all day,
her nimble little feet and clever head saving the
old people much worry and fatigue. She was
kneeling in a roomy closet upstairs, searching out
her grandmother's camlet cloak, when her bright
eyes fell on her grandfather's ink-horn and quill
pen lying on some deep-blue paper. As she had
gone about from room to room, up and down the
old house, more and more the fear had grown upon
her that it was for the last time. The thought of
her grandparents homeless and desolate, of rough
soldiers clanking about the house with devastating
hands, filled the soft eyes with tears and caused
her heart to throb. The ink and paper were a sug-
gestion. She ran downstairs with the cloak, and
finding that neither grandfather nor grandmother
needed her at that instant, she returned to the
closet and carefully prepared her writing materials.
The quill was new and the ink good. Slowly
and thoughtfully the little fingers guided the goose-





LAETITIA AND THE REDCOATS.


feather along the faint lines, first across one sheet,
and then across another. When the task was fin-
ished, Laetitia raised her flushed face and surveyed
the result with satisfaction, and no small degree of
hope shone in her eyes. It ran:
To THE REDCOATS: I am Laetitia Wright, aged
fourteen, who live in this house with my grandparents.
They are old and feeble folk, gentle and peaceful to
friend and foe. I pray you, dear Redcoats, spare their
home to them, and do not burn nor ruin our house. Per-
haps thou hast a little maid like me in England, and old
parents. Thou couldst not
burn the roof from over their
heads, and in such pity and '
mercy, spare ours! We leave
thee much to eat, and would
leave thee more, were our
store larger. Signed, J
"LAETITIA WRIGHT."

This was neatly written \.
on both papers, and Lae- (
titia, tucking them into
her pocket, slipped off to
her duties with a lighter
heart. The last prepa-
rations were soon made, j
and they started to join r i
the little cavalcade already
in line, to travel up the
side of Orange Mountain '
to the log huts built there,
in readiness for such in-
vasions as this. (
"Alas, my geese "ex-
claimed Laetitia, when
with tearful eyes they had \
turned their backs on the
low, white house. "My
geese are still in the pen,
Grandmother I Let me
hasten back and turn j,
them loose."
Permission was given
her, and away she darted
across the brook, on its
rough foot-log, and to the -
r goose-pen. There were
her snow-white geese and
the gray gander. They
were Laetitia's particular "ONE OF THE
pride and care, and knew her well, but, only stop-
ping to stroke one smooth back, she opened the
wicket and drove them, honking and hissing, into
the woods. Then she pulled the papers from her
pocket, and hastily slipping one below the kitchen
door, she fastened the other on the front-door
knocker, and, rejoining her grandparents, was


soon mounted behind her grandfather in the little
procession which wound slowly up the rough
mountain road to shelter and safety,
At sunset the British reached the village, and
though but a small detachment proceeded to
occupy every available building. The peaceful
quiet and exquisite neatness of the Wright home-
stead were rudely invaded by coarse laughter, loud
shouts, and the tramp of heavy boots and chink of
spurs.
One of the officers soon found and read the note


OFFICERS FOUND AND READ LAETITIA'S NOTE."
of Laetitia's which was under the knocker, while
a soldier, a stalwart, good-natured fellow, spelled
out the other in the kitchen. Colonel Ross looked
long and contemplatively at the crude, childish
characters, and his stern face softened.
Thou 'rt a bold little lass and a leal one," he
muttered under his breath. Thou must take us


688


[JuLy,





LAETITIA AND THE REDCOATS.


,., -' ry "
C.I. I9












h, .
''- -.; -. ;" L
l?^ !-^


L ,'



"LAETITIA SPRANG FORWARD, AND, KNEELING DOWN, DETA(
LITTLE BAG AND A SLIP OF PAPER."
for fiends to destroy thy home after this." He
glanced at the humble cottage so bravely pleaded
for, and then across to the mountains, where a faint
spring twilight was falling and the young moon
shone out pale and clear.
Insensibly his thoughts drifted to his own English
home, where that same moon would light up. his
little Cicely's casement. His own little lass I There'
was a heart under that terrible red jacket.
Striding into the kitchen, he found a knot of
men commenting on the other letter, and his
orders soon went forth that no pillage except for
necessary food and fodder was to be indulged in
VOLt XVI.-44.


Throughout the village, and no damage
Swas to be done to goods or furniture.
SJust as the men, hungry and tired,
l-, were searching for supper, along the
S brook came Laetitia's geese toward
their pen.
S A shout welcomed them and they
were quickly, seized and dispatched.
All but the gander. One young soldier
had a knife raised to kill this squawk-
ing fowl, when he paused suddenly.
"Mistress Laetitia, since this bird
may be thine, I'11 spare him out of
courtesy," he said, gayly, as he popped
the old gander into the open pen.
:HED A "He will make thee a good roast,
ere thou hast the wherewithal to re-
fill thy empty larder." So the solitary gander
escaped with his life.
Next night, at sunset, the bugles'blew the march-
ing-signal, and the sound echoed and re-echoed up
the silent valley, penetrating to the little huts in
the forest, where there was anxious watching for
the red light of burning homes, and smoke of de-
stroyed crops. But the night fell and waned, and
not a glimmer shone to indicate such calamity to
the fugitives. Early next morning the little band
returned to the village. Instead of wailing and
tears, shouts of joy and thanksgiving arose from
every house. Dirt and disorder reigned supreme,


88as.]


689





LAETITIA AND THE' REDCOATS.


but not one broken chair nor mutilated dish told of
wanton recklessness. In a day or two all could be
restored, except for the depopulated poultry roosts,
and several pigs which were missing. The sown
fields were not trampled, and the door-yard flowers
still budded unharmed.
Laetitia's little heart beat with thankfulness, but
she kept quite silent. As they dismounted before
their own door she saw the disconsolate gander
solemnly perambulating the green, like some self-
imposed guardian. "Alas, for the rest of the
flock cried Dame Wright. "But what has the
fowl on its neck? Such a burden I never saw on
gander before."
Laetitia sprang forward, and, kneeling down,
detached a little bag and a slip of paper. The bag
chinked with coin, and a dimpled smile broke
over her hitherto anxious little face as she read
the slip.
Listen, Grandmother, and dear Grandfather !"
she cried, gleefully. Evidently the gay soldier had
written it.
"Sweet Mistress Wright,
We bid you good-night,
'T is time for us soldiers to wander.


We 've paid for your geese,
A penny apiece,
And left the change with the gander.
"Though redcoats we be,
You plainly will see,
We know how to grant a petition.
With rough soldier care,
We've endeavored to spare
Your homes in a decent condition."
It was signed by the colonel and by a number of
the soldiers. Then, in reply to her grandparents'
astonished questions, she shyly told them about
her' petitions, and the daring with which she had
left them at the doors.
Fervent were the blessings called down on her
pretty, curly head when the news was spread
abroad, but she only laughed merrily and escaped
them when she could.
It is as thou saidst, Grandfather," she declared,
as she tossed some corn to the bereft gander.
"The Lord's hand stayed that of the enemy, and
perhaps," stopping to pick a violet while a sweet
look came into her face, "the redcoats have hearts
like ours." "Ay, and obedient daughters to
touch them to good deeds," said Dame Wright, as
she lovingly kissed Laetitia's upturned face.


LOVE.


BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.


" SHALL I give your love to your mother? "
He said to the maid of three,
For her mother had gone to a country
Where presently he should be.

What calm in the eyes of azure,
What snow on the innocent brow,
How sweet was that voice of slow music,-
My mother has my love now "


690











NOT A FAIR GAME.


BY CHARLES BARNARD.


F you little fellows
Share not careful
you will be caught
some day."
This is what an
old bird said as
he sat on the
fence, one morn-
ing in June. The
"little fellows"
listened a mo-
ment and then
they rushed off
Sto their play in
the fields. The
sky was clear and
blue, and they could see any dangerous creature
that might appear, while it was yet a long way
off. They would have plenty of time to scurry
away, to get home before it could catch them,-
or, at least, to hide deep in the bushes till it had
gone.
"It 's a queer world!" said one very small
chap. "What with telegraph wires hung up in
the most unexpected places, and the railroad
with all the noise and smoke, and those terrible
hawks, it does seem as if we could not have a min-
ute's peace. It 's 'look out there,' or 'run away
from this,' or 'fly away from that,' all the time."
Oh! I'm not afraid," said one youngster.
"': I did run into a telegraph wire the first day
it was put up, but now I dodge them all."
"I never can abide the trains," said a small
Miss, in speckled gray. "I know they do no
harm, but they frighten me just the same, and I
always fly away."
I can stand nearly everything but the hawks,"
said one of the older ones in the party.
They all agreed nobody could abide hawks. If
it were not for the fact that they could run and
hide when the hawks appeared, life would not be
worth living.
High in the air, wheeling slowly round and
round in great circles, was a hawk looking
sharply down on the country, spread out like a
map beneath him. He could see the fields, the
woods, the brooks and ponds, the roads, and the
railway. There were chickens down in the farm-


yards. He must move slowly and cautiously so
as not to attract attention and alarm the cock
and hens. If he was careful, perhaps he could
have spring chicken for breakfast. Suddenly he
dropped, like a stone, out of the sky right into
a farm-yard. Ah I They saw him and ran, and
-oh -there was a man, with a gun! .The
hawk turned and darted into the air, while a
shower of shot whistled after him.
How vexatious I No chicken this time. The
sun was now more than an hour high and he had
eaten nothing since the afternoon before, when he
had caught a sparrow in a wheat-field. He circled
round and round, keeping a sharp lookout for a
breakfast. Ah! here was just the thing,-a whole
flock of little birds holding a meeting in a field
next to the railroad.
He steered off to one side and then made a bold
dart right in among them. Away they flew-in every
direction and in a moment were jeering at him
from the bushes. He sprang up into the air and
sailed round and round, very hungry and in a
discontented frame of mind.
The meeting of the little fellows resumed its ses-
sion, and one small speaker made a brave speech
about not caring for anything. He could get out
of the way at any time. He was not the one to be
afraid of-
Just then a train rushed by on the railroad and
the meeting adjourned in a hurry. The speaker
tumbled from the fence-rail and the audience
scampered off quite demoralized by fright.
Ha ha! remarked the hawk. That gives
me an idea! I '11 have regular breakfasts after
this."
He looked up and down the railroad for miles
in each direction and saw a train coming. He
flew that way and soon met it tearing along with a
great uproar and much smoke. It was a trifle
alarming at first, but he bravely followed it and
found he could easily keep up with the cars,
though the smoke made his eyes smart. He flew
close behind the last car, right in the smoke and
dust where he could not be seen. As the train
rushed along, he could see the small birds scat-
tering away on each side, frightened out of their
wits by the noise and smoke.
Swoop The train rushed on and sly Mr. Hawk





NOT A FAIR GAME.


clapped his claws on a sparrow and then flew
leisurely away to enjoy his breakfast.

Every one within a mile was on hand at the great
indignation meeting at Cranberry Hollow. Blue
and gray and black and red breasts--in fact,
every little thing on wings in that part of the
country.
It was dreadful! Perfectly shameful. The hawks
had devised a horrible, a wicked trick. They flew
behind railroad trains, and when the little birds
were half frightened out of their wits and tried to
run away in confusion, the hawks darted out from
behind the cars and, pouncing upon the poor
innocents, actually ate them up Such a state of
affairs could not be tolerated. It was monstrous,
tyrannical, and very wicked on the part of the
hawks. Resolutions declaring the practice an un-
fair one, and calling for its suppression, must be
drawn up and sent by mail to all the railroad
men, and copies must be presented to the hawks.


SJust then a venerable tomtit rose in the meet-
ing and remarked in a severe manner that, for his
part, he thought they had just cause for indigna-
tion. The resolutions were highly proper and
should be signed by all, but -reminding his hearers
of the well-known fable of the rats, the bell, and
the cat--he would like to ask who was to deliver
the paper to the hawks.
A solemn hush fell on the assembled congress.
Not a peep was raised. It was so still you could
have heard a pin-feather drop.
Suddenly there was rush, a roar, and a blinding
cloud of smoke. The committee had incautiously
called the meeting too close to the railroad, and
the assembly suddenly broke up in the wildest dis-
order and confusion.
Two minutes later a savage hawk with cruel
claws was seated on the fence enjoying a breakfast
and waiting for the next train, that he might repeat
his wicked tricks.
Such is bird life !


A MATTER OF TASTE.

BY ESTHER B. TIFFANY.


SAYS the peacock to the rabbit,
" Who 's your tailor? tell me, pray;
For, good sir, he's cut your coat-tail
In a most old-fashioned way.
Look at me,
Would you see
What a stylish tail should be !"


Says the rabbit to the peacock,
" Who's your barber? tell me, pray;
For his shears have shorn your ears, sir,
In a most old-fashioned way.
Look at me,
Would you see
What a stylish ear should be !"


692




































BY MYRA GOODWIN PLANTZ.


"BoYS, be careful with your guns," called Mrs.
Brown from the door where she stood watching
them out of sight.
All right, Mother," they replied, laughing at
her fears.
If I can't be trusted with a gun now I 'm four-
teen, I'd better sell out," remarked Tom.
"Well, if I'm only going on twelve, I'm as
good a shot," answered Harry.
Oh, you can shoot a chicken after it has gone
to roost. I wish the Indians had left us something
worth shooting," said Tom, as they climbed the
hill behind their home. Here they paused, enjoy-
ing the wonderful picture before then, without
realizing what gave them the pleasure of the mo-
ment. In the distance the deep blue waters of
Lake Superior flashed in the sunshine.
The broad, snow-covered belt of ice that skirted
the water, was cleared here and there for skating,
and a few children were enjoying this sport. No-
where do children have more fun than in the Lake
Superior country, for, in spite of the thermometer's
getting so low-spirited, the children almost live out-
of-doors, skating, coasting, or rolling down hill
into snow-banks, as country children like to do
in the hay.
This village was like all mining towns. A church,
school-house, and a number of small red houses


owned by the company and leased to the miners,
clustered around the shaft through which the ore
was brought from the mine.
Here and there a more pretentious house marked
the home of a boss or mining-captain. Back
from the lake, rugged hills were broken by wind-
ing ravines. These hills were full of valuable
minerals and beds of'rock, and covered with heavy
forests. In the distance the pine-trees, over a
hundred feet high, looked like tall sentinels, and
the maples and birches, like children just reach-
ing to their knees. The dark green, peeping
through the snow-laden branches, was a grateful
break in the dazzling whiteness everywhere.
I 'd like it better, if a deer were over there, and
a flock of partridges or a nest of rabbits right
here," remarked Harry, as they' left the village
and pressed into the woods. The boys had on
Indian snowshoes,-long frames of hickory wood
strung with deer-sinews,--so they were able to
walk on top of the snow without sinking through.
In many places it would have been over their
heads if they had sunk to the earth. Soon the
ringing blows of the axe told them a lumber camp
was near. The boys passed the long, low little
hut where the choppers camped. Farther on they
saw the men, dressed in striped red-flannel suits,
and with flannel "chucks" on their heads.






A NARROW ESCAPE.


"You've come to the wrong place for game,"
shouted one of the lumbermen.
"Bears have all gone to bed," laughed another.
We're going to wake them up," replied Harry.
"They '11 eat up such a little fellow as you be,"
was answered back.
"Come, let's go the other way. Of course,
they would frighten off everything near here. Hal,
you are so slight! If you 'd only grow out as well
as uf," said Tom, turning away from the men in
disgust. I wish I 'd brought a stronger boy."
That would n't have made deer and partridges


HARRY CREPT UP BESIDE
,come out," replied Harry, too good-natured to re-


sent Tom's unkind remarks.
They wandered aimlessly about for some time,
leaving land-marks, or rather, snow-marks, so they
could not lose their way.
I think a bear has set up winter-quarters in
that hollow tree," said Tom, at last.
"Well, go and stir him up," suggested Harry.
"Oh, we'll go farther on. Bears are more
likely to dig a hole in the ground, or to make a
house of brush. I should not wonder if there was


one under that pile, there." Still Tom did not
venture very near the pile of brush.
"Oh, Tom, see here!--I choose this," cried
Harry, who was a little in advance.
It was as pretty a baby-bear as one might wish
to see. The cub seemed glad to see the boys, and
gamboled around like a dog.
We 'll take him home and make a pet of him,"
said Tom.
Mother would rather see a string of fat birds,
or a deer," said Harry; but for us, this is the best
find we could have."


THE BEAR, AND FIRED."
It was not so easy to get young Bruin away as
they had supposed it would be. They found
belts and strings on their clothing and in their
pockets, but they had to give the little fellow some
liberty or he would have broken away. At last
they concluded to carry him; but he struggled so
they did not get on very fast.
Oh, Hal I Tom suddenly screamed, dropping
the cub, "there 's the mother "
Sure enough, Mamma Bear had missed her baby
from her warm winter nest and was coming after


694






A NARROW ESCAPE.


him in a great rage. Tom raised his gun and fired.
The ball entered the bear's shoulder, wounding her
slightly. Furious with pain, she sprang upon Tom
and began tearing at him with her claws and try-
ing to crush him against her shaggy bosom.
Little Harry stood for an instant paralyzed with
fear. He knew that if he should fire, he was as
likely to kill his brother as to kill the bear. Yet,
Tom's only hope was in what the little brother
could do.
Harry crept up beside the bear, and fired. The
next instant the bear and Tom were lying in the
snow, which was deeply stained with blood. .
"Oh, Tommy !" cried Harry, are you dead?"
"No; but roll the bear off or I '11 smother,"
came from Tom's white lips. Harry touched the
bear cautiously, but she made no resistance; the
ball had entered her brain and killed her instantly.
Tom tried to give his little brother a good hug to
show his joy at being alive, but he found his arms
were so wounded in places that he was in great
pain, and feared that his shoulder was broken, also.
"Don't cry, after you 've been such a man,"
he said, for Harry was sobbing aloud over his
brother's wounds.
"The cub shall be yours, 'cause you got so
hurt in getting him," said Harry, wiping his
eyes.
"No, he 's yours, 'cause you kept me from being
killed altogether. I won't fling your being slim, at
you any more, for you can shoot as well as the
strongest kind of man "


This praise made Harry feel equal to anything,
even to dragging away the unwilling cub. The
little fellow sniffed around his mother, whining
piteously. But Harry was a strong boy in spite of
his slender build, and Tom gave what help he
could in his enfeebled condition. Little Bruin was
as "hungry as a bear," so the lunch in Tom's bag
was a great help in bringing him along.
When they reached the camp they found the
men at dinner. The "boss" ordered one of them
to take the boys home on a wood-sled. But the
boys insisted on taking their fallen game with
them; so while Tom's wounds were bound up,
after a fashion, and both boys were being well fed,
some of the men went after the old bear.
Mrs. Brown's liking for hunting was not in-
creased when the sled stopped before her door,
with a dead bear, a live bear, and a wounded boy.
Tom bore the doctor's stitches and his confine-
ment so well, however, that she at last gave her
consent to have the cub kept for a playmate. The
old bear's skin was sent to Marquette to be sold,
and the boys treated all their friends to bear's
meat.
"Browny" has become a great pet. Even the
boys' mother can not but admit that he is full of
amusing tricks.
I believe there is a bright future for our bold
young hunters. In time they will be brave and
good men. But Browny acts more and more like a
bear every day, and soon he will be altogether too
big to be considered a pet.


i J ;- -;


695















1" C- ,.1,_ 6e_(I D)+CR








If the Seine had any fish, and they began to bite,
Would n't all those fishermen be in a pretty fright !


How long thought he it needs must be before some fish they'd land.
." Good sir," replied the ancient man, and wiped a tear away,
Belike in half-a-hundred year, if you have time to stay "
md* ot]?erg- 1 699




uSING a song of tangest thing -wors, occurred that fullever heart could wisof rain,
Th e fattest of the fishermen decla-fishing inhe felt a fishing
SAnd many scoffe d threat, but he continuedbegan to bite, firm
In stating that all thoseodly fishermen be inibble a p pretty fright.

S If ask e d an ancient apple-man, who sat behind his stand,
How long and although his Councilors must behold before some ish the 'd land.
/" Good sir," replied the ancient man, and wiped a tear away,
Belike in half-a-hundred year, if you have time to stay! "



Just then the strangest thing his occurred that ev fisher heart could wish,
ThA prize fattest of the fishermen declared he felt kind of fish he land
y 'T "If he speaks sooth," the people cried, in one united breath,
/^ 'C "The King and all his Councilors should be here at the death "
They bade the crier ring his bell, the fisher stay his hand;
"A prize to him who '11 guess aright what kind of fish he '11 land !"
J Quotl one (the corner one), "A carp !" Another cried, in dudgeon
(Their portraits you will see below), I say 't will be a gudgeon !"
S'The third declared 't would be a sole, unless all signs did fail;
And one (that rather bumptious boy) felt sure 't would be a whale.
,."/)






r ., .,,:..






FISHING IN THE SEINE.


- liii', ____


- 0-


The ancient apple-man alone had no fair word to say,
But wagged his head full solemnly, in sixteenth-century way.
"I 've vended apples hereabout for five-and-fifty year,
And never have I seen a fish in all their fishing here!"

Meanwhile, the King, his crown awry, came puffing in hot haste,
And all the Councilors, their coats unbuttoned at the waist:
The crier gave the signal, and the buglerloudly blew,
And then the fattest fisherman hauled in a- worn-out shoe!

Thereat the people waxed full wroth, and many cried, "For shame !"
But when they stopped to think, they saw that no one was to blame.
As for the prize, that king so wise decided, on the whole,
To give a part of it to him who guessed 't would be a sole.

For he was partly right, at least; the rest were wholly wrong.
An act of justice that so pleased that sixteenth-century throng,
That, save the apple-man, they all threw up their caps for joy,
'And no one wept a tear, except the rather bumptious boy.

Now, that you may believe my tale, I put here in the book,
The pictures that I drew of all, exactly as they look:
The fattest fisherman, perhaps, should be a trifle fatter,
And then the king-you know these kings !- the king I had to flatter.
"<; Adeline Valentine Pond.


697










HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND
WHAT CAME OF IT.

BY MARY E. HAWKINS.


I. THE MEETING.

MATTIE lived with her grandmother in a small
village. She had no mother, her father was far
away, and the little girl and Grandma had only
the hired help for company.
One afternoon Mattie was in the garden with a
box, trying to catch a bee. She thought she would
shut a bee in the box and keep it till it filled the
box with honey. The bee stung her, and she ran
crying into the kitchen to Susan. Susan put some,
flour on Mattie's wrist and told her to leave the
bees alone"; but Susan did not kiss the aching
wrist, as Grandma would have done, and Mattie
went back into the garden, with her wrist smarting
and much discouraged. She picked some flowers,
and wondered where flowers kept their "smelling,"
and whether she could n't get enough of it to fill
the box. She pulled several flowers to pieces, and,
when she could not find their perfume, threw the
fragments away; a discontented look was on her
face, and the box soon lay on the ground, without
much prospect of being filled with anything.
Soon the ringing of a bell turned her thoughts
in a new direction. She wondered what made the
meeting-house bell ring. It was n't Sunday. She
knew, because Grandma had gone to the store, and
Susan was working.
While wondering about this, she remembered
Grandma had once called the meeting-house the
"Lord's house," and the words came to her full
of meaning. Did the Lord live at the meeting-
house? Was it his house?
Mattie knew little of churches and meetings.
Grandma did n't often attend church, for the only
church in this little village was one she did n't
"belong to," and, besides, poor Grandma was
so deaf she could n't hear preaching very well.
Still, Mattie had been to this church a few times
with Grandma. All she saw when there was
"folks" and the minister. Perhaps the Lord
was n't there, those days. Was he there to-day?
She clasped her hands in excitement. Oh, how
much she would like to see the Lord, and send her
love to Mamma in heaven! Could there be any
harm in a little girl's going to the meeting-house
and rapping on the door ?


Mattie went into the house very thoughtful. She
tried to take off her soiled apron, but her short
arms could not reach the top button, and, some-
how, she did not like to go to Susan. She pulled
at the button until she set her wrist to smarting
afresh, and then she gave it up. P'r'aps the Lord
will scuse me if my apron is not quite clean," she
whispered to herself. ".He knows I could n't un-
button it, 'cause he knows every single, single
thing. Grandma said so. 'Sides, I can hold my
hand right over the dirty spots."
She put on her best hat, took her parasol, and
started out.
The village was so little that Mattie had no
trouble in finding the way to the meeting-house.
Her heart beat fast as she climbed the steps and
rapped a small rap on the half-opened door. No
one heeded her summons, and after a while she
pushed open the door and went in.
There was a meeting going on. Some men sat
on the front seats, and the minister was in the pul-
pit. The minister saw a little girl come in, and,
after eagerly looking around, walk softly up the
aisle and turn into a pew.
Mattie was quiet in the pew a very little while;
then she took off her hat, laid it with her parasol
on the cushion, and turned her attention to the
meeting.
It seemed to her a.strange one. For there were
no -women in the meeting, and the "folks were
preaching as well as the minister, and they all
preached sitting down on the seats. The minister
was sitting, and held his hands locked together on
a little table. His hair was gray, like Grandma's,
and his hands looked white and full of big bones.
When he preached, he preached only a few words
at a time, and Mattie thought his mouth looked
very sorry when he got through.
And the "little pitcher" with "long ears," hid-
den in the pew, listened to the preaching with all
its might. But it did n't make out much till an
old gentleman, who had on a checked shirt and
wore no coat, spoke up:
"Yes, yes, brethren, what you say is very true.
But, for all that, we should remember that a
minister's children must have bread to eat and
shoes to wear."






HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


Mattie drew her breath hard. Had the minister's
children no bread to eat nor shoes to wear? Was
that why his mouth looked so sorry ? Her heart was
filled with pity, and her nervous fingers tugged at
the buttons on her slipper. She pulled off a slip-
per, and without stopping to think that the min-
ister's children might have more than one foot
apiece, she hurried into the
aisle, and the first thing. .
that the minister and the ..4So's .?.
"folks" knew, there was a' '
little girl in one stocking-
foot flashing round the altar
railing, holding out a little
black slipper.
Then there was laughing .'
and exclaiming, to Mattie's
great confusion, till the
minister unclasped his hands ':
and took the little girl, slip-
per and all, and set her on .
'his knee. He put his hand ,. .'
on her head, and the touch "
quieted her excitement. '
SThe minister drew the '
slipper from Mattie's hand,
put it on her foot, and care-
fully buttoned it. Then he
looked up with a little smile
and said, "Well, brethren,.
perhaps it is better to go on
with the meeting."
But the meeting did not
last much longer, and soon
he put Mattie down, and rose
to shake hands with the
"folks" before they went
away. The old gentleman
in checked shirt-sleeves
stroked Mattie's arm and
told her she had a heart as
big as a barn-door," and .
some of the others said like
things to her.
After the "folks" had
gone, the minister put his
hands behind him and walked
back and forth in front of


the little table. At last he


Then the minister-resumed his walk, and as he
walked he talked:
"If I could only help him until he 's through
college But I can't. If they cut down my salary,
how can I ? Poor boy! He works hard and learns
quickly. He is very ambitious. He 'll be so dis-
couraged and disappointed, poor boy "


"SHE PULLED OFF A SLIPPER AND HURRIED INTO THE AISLE."


glanced up and saw that Mattie had not gone, but "You see, little girl," said the minister, again
was watching him anxiously. pausing, my boy is at college- that's a school,
I had a little boy, once, just as small as you," you know. But it costs money to study there.
he said, smiling, and stopping to look at her, And these men-you heard them talking about
"but he is a great big boy now." it, did n't you? are going to take away one hun-
Has n't he any shoes to wear?" asked Mattie. dred dollars from what they pay me a year for
"Shoes? Oh, I guess so. But, if he had n't, he preaching."
could n't wear yours. Besides, he wears boots." Mattie put her hand into her pocket, when the


699





700 HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


minister walked again, as though she expected to
find a hundred dollars there. She did not find it,
and she took out her hand and spoke up sharply:
"I think those mens are naughty mens "
"Oh, no, they are not," said the minister,
earnestly, as if Mattie's opinion were of the greatest
importance. "You must n't say that. Times are
hard very hard. Butter is down the farmers
can't make anything. It's really very hard times.
The brethren are not to blame."
Then the minister sat down in the chair and
Ij.:okd hard at Matte. with an expression ofinquiry,
just as if he had not seen her before.
"How did you happen to come. to official
meeting? "
"I did n't come to 'ficial meeting," said Mattie.
"I did n't know it went. I only just corned."
Why did you come to the meeting-house? "
"I wanted to see the Lord," Mattie whispered,
very solemnly, "Is he here?"
The minister looked around the church quickly.
"Oh! I hope so. I really hope so. I should
be sorry to think he had n't been present at the
meeting." Then he looked back to Mattie. But,
my dear little girl, you did n't expect to see the
Lord with your eyes, did you ? Just as you see me
now?"
Mattie nodded brightly.
"How mistaken you were The Lord is here,--
he knows what we are saying to each other. But
we can't see him with the eyep we have now. When
we get to heaven we hope to see him as he is."
"Why did you wish to see the Lord?' asked
the minister, after a pause.
"I was only just but going to pray, and to send
my love to my mamma up in heaven," said Mattie.
"Oh! your mother.is in heaven? Who takes
care of you then, dear?"
"My grandma."
"Do you pray at home?" asked the minister.
"Does anybody teach you that ?"
"My grandma reached me," said Mattie.
"That is right. But the church is a good place
to pray in,-a beautiful place. People come here
to pray. Do you see this cushion in front of the
railing ? and the minister rose and pointed down
to it.
"A good many people have kneeled there to
pray," he said, as Mattie looked. 1" See how ragged
the cushion is --that is where their knees have
been. If you like, you can go round and kneel
down there too, and pray to the Lord. I feel sure
he will hear you, for he loves children."
Somehow, Mattie was not bashful before this
minister with the '! sorry mouth, though she was
usually timid before strangers. She went around
and, picking out a particularly worn and dented


spot, kneeled on the cushion. Her dark little
head was quiet against the railing a moment-
then it came up quickly.
"I will pray about your little boy if you wish
me to."
"Do, dear child," said the minister.
"Oh, Lord! give. the minister a hundred dol-
lars so he can give it to his little boy," said Mattie,
in a low voice.
Amen," saidthe minister, soberly. "But we
u ill say, 'Thy will be done,' won't we ? he added.
"Say it, my child. Your prayer won't be right
without it. 'Thy will be done.'"
Thy will be done,'" Mattie repeated, and
then rose quickly.
The minister took his hat. "Now, my little
sister, I think perhaps we should go."
Mattie looked at him with wondering eyes.
Never before had she been called "My little
sister."
"I callyou that because we both are Christians,"
he said, smiling; "and because in the church we
often call one another brother' or sister.' "
Mattie was content. She took her hat and para-
sol from the pew and stood by the minister while
he locked the church door.
"Now you must tell me where you live," he said,
as he took her hand in his.
As they were walking along, Mattie noticed the
spot on her apron which she had intended to keep
covered with her hand. She had forgotten it. She
was much mortified.
"I hope you will scuse my apron," she said,
primly.
The minister looked down at her apron. It is
rather untidy. But I know a worse thing than an
unclean apron. Do you know what it is ? "
"I guess if's a dirty dress," said Mattie.
"Oh, no. It's an unkind heart. Do you know
what the heart is ? "
Oh, yes, I know. It keeps a-going, and
a-going, and won't never hold still."
S"Well, if we think wrong thoughts or have bad
feelings in these hearts, they get so the Lord can
not live in them. He lives in good, clean hearts.
My little girl, do you-want your heart like a little
church, with the Lord staying in it, so that you
need not go a step away from yourself to find
him?"
S"Oh I would like to," said Mattie, her imagi-
nation all astir.
Then be a good child. You can't know much
yet, but you.can be a little Christian, nevertheless."
Grandma and Susan had but just found out that
Mattie was not in the garden, when they saw her
coming home with the minister. Grandma was
surprised and somewhat "flustered," but she in-


[JULY,






i889.] HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


vited the minister into the parlor, and got her ear-
trumpet so that she could talk with him. And
Mattie looked and listened rather anxiously, for it
had just occurred to her that she had run away.

II. WHAT CAME OF IT.

THIS is the way Mattie wrote to her papa:
First, Grandma wrote about Mattie. Then Mattie
sat on the table and talked into Grandma's ear-
trumpet and Grandma wrote what she said. Papa


VHE DAMK .ITTLE HEAD WAS u1QE. AUA1-NS "S IHAl
was particular that Mattie's part of the letter should
be out of her own head."
This is Mattie's part of a letter:

DEAR PAPA: Grandma says it is time enough to
write again, so I am sitting on the table sending you a
letter.
"I s'pose Grandma has wrote about me and if I was
naughty. I was pretty naughty running away to the
meeting-house.
"Papa- are n't you very glad ? I 'm not never go-
ing to be naughty again !
"The reason I went to the meeting-house was 'cause
I wanted to pray the Lord and send my love to my dear
Mamma. The Lord was there, only I could n't see him
'cause my eyes was different. The minister said so.


But the minister told me things. He said if I was good
my heart would be just like a little meeting-house. That
is why I 'm not going to be naughty. I s'pose when I
get awful good, my heart will tick like a little bell ring-
ing, Sunday. Grandma said the minister did n't mean
a really, truly meeting-house, but our thoughts and
thinking are the little folks that go and sit down in our
hearts, and stand up and sing.
"I think hearts are very funny. They do things so.
I wish any one was little enough to go in where their
hearts be.
"And so, the minister came right home with me and
took hold of my hand, and I
S carried my little pink parasol.
S"The minister's little boy
is pretty big. But he can't
never go to college-school
any more, 'cause the folks
in the meeting-house was
preaching about not giving
the minister a hundred dol-
lars to give to his little boy,
so he could go some more.
Don't you think they are
pretty naughty? But the
minister said they was n't.
But I 'most forgot to tell
the rest about the meeting.
So I sat in the minister's lap
till it was out. And then he
...... talked to me and said things.
And then he came right
home with me (and that
Swas when he said about my
heart and a meeting-house).
And so, I came home. And
so, I can't think of any more
'cause my throat is tired,
and my dear Grandma's
H arm, that she holds her ear-
trumpet with, is pretty tired,
S- too. So I send seven bushels
of my love to my dear Papa.
MARTHA ALICE BRANT."
In a few days an answer
AILING FOR A MOMENT." came. When Grandma
opened the envelope she found inside another
letter, sealed and directed to the minister in the
father's handwriting.
Here is what was at the end of Papa's letter to
Mattie :

I think you are old enough to begin to form church-
going habits, to go to Sunday-school and learn little
verses and catechisms. If dear Grandma can't take you,
Susan must, till Grandma thinks you might go alone.
You see, I have written a letter to the minister. Ask
Grandma to please dress you neatly, and let Susan take
you to call on him. Hand him the letter and say it is
one your Papa sent in yours. If he does not read it to
you, I will tell you what is in it when I write again. Of
course you are not to ask him to read it, for that would






702 HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


be impolite. Good-bye, my little girl. -Don't forget
Papa in your prayers, for he never forgets you in his.
J. S. BRANT."
The next day Mattie went to call on the minister.
Susan held her hand in a tight grasp, and Mattie
felt very solemn and important with the letter to
the minister in the pocket of her stiff little white
Stress.
When they reached the house, Susan rang the
bell, and the lady with whom the minister boarded
came to the door. For the minister had no family
except his boy who was away at school, and it was
only a figure of speech which the old gentleman
in the checked shirt-sleeves had used, when he
spoke of the minister's children. Mattie knew
nothing about figures of speech, and she was dis-
appointed that she did not see the barefoot chil-
dren playing about.
Susan told the lady that "this little girl" had
an, errand to the minister, and the lady led them
to his study. The minister opened the door, his
mouth looking as sorry as it had looked that other
day, and his hands looking paler and bigger, coming
out of the short, wrinkled sleeves of his study coat.
When they were seated in the study, Susan
motioned to Mattie to begin. But Mattie did n't
know how.
"It's a fine day," said the minister, as if willing
to help them.
"Yes, sir; it is," said Susan. "But I ain't the
one. It's this girl," and she pushed her chair
closer to Mattie, and gave her a nudge with her
elbow. She 's got the errand."
Oh! said the minister, his eyes resting upon
Mattie till a very small smile came to his mouth.
"Oh, certainly! You are the young lady who
came to my official meeting. You must pardon
me for not recognizing you," he said, rising to
shake hands. "I fear my eyes are dim to-day.
I have been writing a letter- a long, unpleasant
letter-and it gave me a headache."
"Have you been writing to your little boy?"
asked Mattie.
"Yes, I have," said the minister. Susan touched
her and told her not to be forward."
I don't think she is 'forward,' said the minis-
Ster, answering the whisper. "I am glad some-
body is interested in my boy,- poor fellow I" The
-minister started to walk with his hands behind
him, as he had walked in the church, but he
stopped himself and went back to his chair.
"What is your errand to me?" he asked, the
little smile all gone.
"Oh!" said Mattie, jumping up and tugging
at her pocket. "It's a letter my papa wrote,
inside to you inside, I mean, to me to you -
inside -"


She stopped short in her sniarl of words and car-
ried the letter to the minister, then went and sat
by Susan again.
The minister was a long while reading the let-
ter. At last he laid it on the table, and with his
finger beckoned Mattie to him.
I wish you to tell your father something, when
-you write again," he said, as she stood before him.
"Will you remember?"
'iMattie nodded.
HeI put his fingers one by one upon the table,
marking pauses between his words. I-want you
to say- to your father that he has a daughter -
who is worthy of her father- and that he is wor-
thy of his daughter."
Mattie looked doubtful about remembering. The
words seemed as snarled as her own had been.
I am afraid you will forget it. I must write it
down for you."
"My papa is a pretty hice man," said Mattie,
speaking up sharply as the minister began to write,
for his solemn way-of putting down his fingers had
made her uneasy.
"That's what it means," he said. "It means
that he is a nice man, and that you are a nice
girl."
Oh said Mattie, much relieved. She tucked
into her pocket the bit of paper he handed her,
and then looked wistfully at the letter on the table.
"My papa wrote you a pretty long letter,
did n't he ?" she asked, hesitatingly.
No, he did n't," said the minister, taking it up.
It's short. But it 's weighty,-very weighty."
Mattie was surprised. "I carried it my own
self, right in my pocket."
The minister looked at her with a smile almost
as happy as other people's smiles. "So you think it
can't be very hea\ y ? But, my dear child, it seems
to me that it weighs a ton,- a ton of kindness!
You don't know how much a ton is, do you? 'But
do you know what your father wrote to me? "
"No, I don't; but I 'm not a-going to ask no-
body to read their letters, 'cause it's umpolite."
"I'11l read it without being asked," said the
minister:

REV. AND DEAR SIR: My daughter, the bearer of
this note, I wish to place under your pastoral care, as
I think she is now old enough to aiten.. church. I am
not ambitious that she should become one of your offi-
cial members (though it seems she has rather pushed
herself forward in that direction), but shall be satisfied
to have her act in a private capacity. Will you take
her under your charge ?
"Inclbsed is a check for one hundred dollars, which
please consider as coming .from her, and as an addition
to the salary assigned you for the present year. I shall
expect her, in addition, to do her part toward your church


[JULY,






1889.] HOW MATTIE WENT TO A MEETING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


collections during the short time that she will probably
remain in your village.
Wishing you, my dear brother, abundant success in
the great work in which you are engaged, I am yours
in Christian fellowship, JAMES S. BRANT."

This means a hundred dollars," said the min-
ister, taking up a slip of paper. "And it means


If you 've done your errand we 'd better be
a-going," spoke up Susan.
The minister rose and took Mattie's hand. I
am going to ask Mrs. Bell if she won't give me
some of her posies to make you a nosegay," he
said. "You are my little girl now, you know.
You must come and hear me preach,- your father
says so."


THIS MEANS A HUNDRED DOLLARS SAID THE MINISTER, TAKING UP A SLIP OF PAPER.
"'THIS._-- ANSA ...N..EO __LLAR -'" 5A- THE _MIN.STR TAKING UP-A-.--- SLI .O-P AE


"'THIS MEANS A HUNDRED DOLLARS,'" SAID THE MINISTER, TAKING UP A SLIP OF PAPER."


that my boy can stay at college. I wrote a letter
to him this morning saying that he would have to
come home. It was hard work, writing that letter.
Now, I can burn it, and write another! "
"Oh! I am glad your little boy can go to col-
lege-school some more!" exclaimed Mattie.
And, indeed, she was glad, for the minister's
little boy had been in her thoughts very often.


"Oh, yes; I s'pose I must," said Mattie, con-
tentedly.
Mattie carried home a large bouquet of sweet-
smelling, old-fashioned flowers. She kept it in
water many days, and when she looked at it she
was very happy, thinking of her papa, who had
made "the minister with the sorry mouth" glad,
and of the minister's little boy at college-school.











THE BUNNY STORIES.

THE BUNNIES' PICNIC.

BY JOHN H. JEWETT.


PART, I.


SD UDDLEDOWN'S
birthday was in
June, and June,
the month of roses,
was coming in a
few weeks.
Then the Bun-
nies were to have
J ''' Ia picnic, if all
were well and the
weather was fine.
They were fond
,of picnics and
4;. liked to have them
.'-, ..T' a long way offfrom
------ home.
Now there were
S plenty of green
fields and pleasant
groves near by Runwild Terrace, but the Bunnies
thought the best part of a picnic was the going
away from a noisy neighborhood, in search of hew
places to ramble in for the day, and the having
dinner out-of-doors.
They were always glad to come home again when
the day's fun was over, but they really loved the
quiet and strangeness of the woods and fields, and
knew how pleasant it was to find some wild place,
where they could play that all the world was their
own, to be good and happy in for a little while, all
by themselves.
There never seemed to be any room in such
places for naughty thoughts or actions, and they
always came home so full of fresh air and sunshine
That the good feeling would last for several days, in
spite of the little trials and tempers which might
come peeping around the corners of their work or
play at home.
For a long time after those sad and anxious days
when Cuddledown was missing, the Bunnies felt
rather timid about going very far away from the
village alone.
They used to talk about the strange creatures,
with smooth, white faces, who carried Cuddledown


off to the settlement where Cousin Jack had found
her, and they often wondered if they should ever
meet them in the fields when berrying or having
a picnic.
Bunnyboy was the captain of a soldier company,
made up of a dozen or more of his playmates, and
Cousin Jack called them his "Awkward Squad ";
but they looked very grand in their blue flannel uni-
forms, bright crimson sashes and gilt buttons, and
they felt and talked almost as grand as they looked.
Sometimes they talked rather boastfully about
what they would do, when they were grown up and
hadrealguns instead of wooden ones, if the strangers
ever came to molest them at the Terrace.
One day when Bunnyboy and his soldiers were
talking very bravely about this matter, the Deacon
asked Bunnyboy if they had ever practiced Right-
about face, Double-quick, March! "
Bunnyboy saw the twinkle in his father's eyes,
and replied: Oh, you think we would run at the
first sight of the smooth-faces, do you ? "
The Deacon smiled and said he hoped not, but
the bravest soldiers were usually modest as well as
brave, and perhaps Cousin Jack would tell them a
story some time about two dogs he once heard of,
whose names were "Brag" and "Holdfast."
Cousin Jack answered him by saying: "The
dog story is all right so far as it goes, but my ad-
vice to them is to keep right on thinking brave
thoughts, for such thoughts have the right spirit,
and are good company for old or young."
"It would hardly pay," said he, "to grow up
at all, if we did not love our homes and country
enough to be willing to defend them with our lives,
if necessary."
Browny, who carried the flag, waved his staff and
said, Just you wait until we are bigger and have
swords and guns, and see if we do not teach the
smooth-faces a lesson."
"Browny," said Cousin Jack, "I hope by that
time guns will be out of fashion, for real courage
does not depend so much on swords and guns as
some folks imagine."
"Perhaps," said he, "the smooth-faces are not
so bad as they seem to us, and they may have
meant no wrong by taking Cuddledown with them
704






THE BUNNY


to the settlement. They might have left her to
starve and perish alone, and then we should have
lost her altogether."
A brave spirit and a revengeful spirit," he con-
tinued, are two very different things, and you
should be careful, Browny, not to get them mixed.
However, it is now time for you all to go on with
your drilling."
Turning to the company, Cousin Jack looked


THE PICNIC.
them over very carefully and said, "Keep your
shoulders straight,- eyes to the front,- keep step
to the music and obey your commander !"
Attention I company, forward, MARCH !"
shouted Bunnyboy, and off they tramped, looking
so brave and manly that even the Deacon clapped
his hands and cried, Bravo they are a plucky
lot, that is a fact, and I am proud of them."
So many months had passed, during which
nothing had been seen or heard of the strangers,
that the Bunnies began to feel less timid, and to
wish they might see some of the places Cousin
Jack and Cuddledown had passed on their journey.
Cousin Jack told them it would be a pleasant
drive, and if the Deacon would let them take the
horse and carriage for the picnic party, they would
go that way when the time came.
Even a few weeks seemed a long time to wait,
but at last the day came, and very early one bright
VOL. XVI.-- 45


STORIES. 705

morning the near neighbors knew that something
was to happen, by the noise the Bunnies were
making.
They were all up with the sun, and Cuddledown
had to be kissed six times by each member of the
family, and each had a pretty card or gift for her
birthday.
After breakfast, when Gaffer brought the family
carriage to the door, they were in such a hurry to


be off, they could scarcely wait for Mother
Bunny to pack the lunch-basket and get
all the things ready for a long day away
from home.
When all were stowed away in the car-
riage, and the four Bunnies were seated,
Cousin Jack took the reins, while Browny shouted
"All aboard and with a rousing Good-bye "
to the father and mother, off they started, as merry
as larks in a meadow.
The fields and lanes were all so lovely they could
not help stopping on the way to pick a handful of
the golden buttercups and fragrant lilacs, while all
around them in the trees and hedges the birds were
filling the air with melody, and seemed to be invit-
ing everybody to come out and enjoy the fine
weather.
After a pleasant drive of more than two hours,
they came to the two roads," and found the very
spot where Cousin Jack had slept the first night of
his journey, and from which he first saw the lights
in the settlement.
They could just see, from the top of a hill near
by, the white church-spires glistening in the sun,
but they did not wish to go any nearer.






THE BUNNY STORIES.


The Bunnies were not really afraid, for Cousin
Jack was with them, but they were glad when he
said they would drive back by the other road and
have their picnic nearer home.
On the way, about noon-time, they came to a
place where there was a busy little brook, and a
shining pond half covered with lily-pads, and an
open pasture with many large, flat stones scattered
about in the short grass, just right for resting-places.
Cousin Jack said they could not find a better
place, for close by on a little knoll was a grove of
pine-trees, near enough together to make it shady
and cool, and not too thick for playing hide-and-
seek.
Under the trees the ground was covered with a
soft clean mat of last year's dry pine-needles, mak-
ing the nicest kind of a couch to lie upon and
watch the stray sunbeams peeping through the
branches overhead.
The lunch-baskets were hung on a low limb of a
pine-tree, so that the busy little ants and other
creeping things need not be tempted to meddle with
the Bunnies' dinner, and so it might be out of reach
of any stray dog that might be roving about.
When Cousin Jack had tied the horse in a safe
place, and given him a feed of oats in a nose-bag,
the Bunnies ran off to play, and had great fun
racing about the fields, looking for turtles on the
edges of the pond, or making tiny boats of birch-
bark, on which they wrote pleasant messages to
send down the brooks to any one who might chance
to find them lodged or floating on the stream
below.
While they were playing by the pond, they heard
a strange croaking noise, and found that it came
from two large green frogs, half hidden in the drift-
wood lodged against some overhanging bushes on
the bank.
Little Cuddledown said she thought the frogs
must be learning to talk, and asked what they
were trying to say. Just for fun, Bunnyboy told her
it sounded as if one of them was saying:
"Get the lunch! Get the lunch !
Eat it up eat it up !"
and the other frog answered:
"Me thejug! Me thejug!
Ker chug!"

This made them all feel hungry, and Cuddledown
thought it was time to be going back to the tree,
before the frogs found the baskets with the sand-
wiches and cakes and the jug of milk the mother
had packed up so carefully for their dinner.
So they all ran back to the grove and helped
Cousin Jack to spread out the dinner on the top of
a large flat rock, where they could all sit around as


if at a table, and make it seem like having a real
home dinner in the open air.
After dinner they packed up the dishes in the
basket, and all the broken bits and crumbs that
were left over were scattered about on the ground,
so that the little bugs might have a picnic too, all
by themselves, under the leaves and grass.
Cousin Jack thought Cuddledown had played so
hard that she must be tired and sleepy, and spread-
ing a lap-robe under the trees they lay down to take
a nap, while the others wandered away in search of
fresh flowers to take home in the baskets.
By and by, when they came back to the grove,
Bunnyboy had an armful of fragrant wild azaleas
and hawthorn blossoms; Pinkeyes had a huge
bouquet of buttercups and pretty grasses, and
Browny a lovely bunch of delicate blue violets.
These he had wrapped in large, wet leaves to keep
the tender blossoms from losing all their dainty
freshness before he could give them to his mother.
It was now time to think about driving back to
the village, and presently, when the baskets, and
flowers, and Bunnies were all snugly stowed away
in the carriage again, they started off for home,
waving good-bye with their handkerchiefs to the
pleasant grove, while the nodding tree-tops and
swaying branches answered the salute in their own
graceful way.
As they drew near the outskirts of the village,
and were passing through a shady lane, they heard
voices in the distance, which seemed to come from
behind the hill at the right of the road.
The voices soon changed to cries for help, and
tying the horse by the roadside they hurried to the
top of the hill, where a strange and startling sight
was before them.
PART II.
NEAR the foot of the hill was a pine grove and
a gently sloping field, very much like the one the
Bunnies had left, and beyond was a low marsh, or
peat meadow, overgrown with low bushes and tufts
of rank grasses.
Huddled together near the edge of the marsh
was a group of frightened little ones, evidently
another piCnic-party, but in trouble.
Out in the marsh someone was clinging to the
bushes, waving.her hand and calling for help,
while a few feet beyond they, could see a small
object, which looked like the head and shoulders
of a child, slowly sinking into the bog.
Cousin Jack knew at a glance what had hap-
pened, and telling Bunnyboy and Browny to fol-
low him, and Pinkeyes to look after the group
below, he led the way, as fast as he could run, to
the nearest rail-fence.
Loosening the rails, he told the Bunnies to drag


[JULY.






THE BUNNY STORIES.


them along one at a time, and then hurried as fast
as his crutches would carry him to the edge of the
marsh.
The Bunnies were close behind him with a stout
rail, and laying down his crutches he crept out as
far as he could safely go, dragging the rail after
him, until he was within a few feet of the sinking
child.
Then he pushed the rail over the yielding and
treacherous quagmire to the little fellow and told
him to put his arms over it, hang on, and stop
struggling. ,
The Bunnies soon had two more rails within
reach, and these Cousin Jack pushed alongside the
other, making a kind of wooden bridge, or path,
over which he crawled, and at last by main strength


The first thing to do was to wash off some of the
wet black mud at the brook, and wrap up the shiv-
ering Tumblekins in shawls and blankets, to keep
him from taking cold.
Miss Fox's feet were wet and covered with mud,
but she was so busy looking after the others that
she did not mind that; and soon, with the help of
the Bunnies, the baskets and wraps were picked up
and they all set out for home.
It was not very far to the village, but the Bunnies
said they would walk and let some of the tired little
ones ride in the carriage.
Cousin Jack agreed to'this plan and loaded both
seats full of the smallest orphans, and with Cuddle-
down by his side, drove off at the head of the pro-
cession, while the rest trudged on behind.


-I_


- <- N '-~~'~ 7~~~jy>'-


THE BUNNIES TO THE RESCUE.


pulled the half-buried child out of the soft, wet
mire.
In a few minutes, both had safely crept back over
the rails to the solid ground.
Meanwhile, the grown person who was cling-
ing to the bushes, had succeeded in pulling her
feet out of the mire by lying down, and, imitating
Cousin Jack's example, had crept out of the marsh
and joined Pinkeyes and Cuddledown in quieting
the little ones, who were crying in their fright and
helplessness.
A few words explained it all. They were a party
of little orphan Bears, Coons, Woodchucks, 'Pos-
sums, Squirrels, and Rabbits from the Orphans'
Home in the village, and had come out for a pic-
nic with Miss Fox, one of the matrons of the
Home.
Toddle Tumblekins Coon, the little fellow Cousin
Jack had saved from being buried alive in the bog,
had strayed away in search of flowers and become
helplessly mired in one of the soft spots in the
marsh.
In going to his rescue, the matron had also been
caught in a bog-hole, and but for the timely help
of Cousin Jack and the Bunnies, both might have
lost their lives.


When they reached the Orphanage the Bunnies
said good-bye to their new friends and were invited
by Miss Fox to come and see the children at home,
some day, and meet the other matrons, who would
be glad to thank them for all their kindness.
It was nearly dusk before the Bunnies reached
home, and they were all so eager to tell about the
day's doings and the strange accident in the marsh
that they all tried to talk at once.
Mother Bunny said they must be hungry after
such a long day, and so much excitement, but
after supper she would be glad to hear all about it
and enjoy the picnic at second hand.
The Deacon said he would join in the same
request, if they would take turns ih talking, instead
of turning the tea-table into a second Babel, and
Cousin Jack said something which sounded like a
subdued "Amen."
By the time they had finished supper, however,
Cousin Jack and Bunnyboy had told the general
story of the day, in answer to the Deacon's ques-
tions, and as they gathered about the library-table
for the evening, each of the other Bunnies had
something to tell of the day's happenings, and
of what the orphans had said to them on the
way home.


z889.3


707






THE BUNNY STORIES.


Cuddledown told how the little Squirrel orphan,
who sat next to her on the front seat with Cousin
Jack, had said she had a dolly with real hair and
asked whether Cuddledown had ever seen one.
"I almost laughed," said Cuddledown, "and
was going to tell her I had half a dozen dollies at
home, but I did not. I only told her I had a


dolly with real hair, too, and that my dolly's name
was Catharine."
Why did you not tell her you had more dolls ?"
asked Cousin Jack.
"Because -because I thought perhaps she had
only one, and I did n't wish to make her feel
unhappy," said Cuddledown.
Mother Bunny drew Cuddledown close to her
side and said, That was a good reason, dear, and
I am glad my little daughter is growing up to be
kind and thoughtful of others."
Then the Deacon said, "Next," and Pinkeyes
told them all about the pleasant talk she had with
two little sister Coons who walked with her.
They told her how they lived at the Home, about
their lessons and singing in the morning, learning
to sew and playing games in the large hall in
the afternoon, or taking pleasant walks with the
"Aunties," as they called the kind matrons who
took care of them.
They both told her they liked "Visitors' day"
the best of all in the week, for then the kind young
ladies came and told them stories, or read about
the pretty pictures in books they brought.
When Pinkeyes finished her story she said to
Mother Bunny, When I am old enough I shall ask


you to let me have an afternoon out, just as the cook
has for her own, every week, and then I will be
one of the visitors."
I know lots of stories," said Pinkeyes, and I
should like to help those little orphans to forget
that they have no fathers and mothers, and no
homes of their own, like ours."
The Deacon smiled as he said, "That
will all come about in good time, my dear,
I am sure, for I have had hard work to keep
your mother away from the Orphanage, long
enough to let the children there have a quiet
season of the measles, between her visits."
Cousin Jack looked at the Deacon as he
said, Kindness seems to be a family trait
on the mother's side, in this household, and
I hope we may all be able to bear up a little
longer under our part of the burden "; and
then, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, he
turned and said, Your turn now, Browny."
Browny began by saying he had great fun
racing with a young 'Possum who said his
other name was "Oliver."
Cousin Jack said that Oliver was probably
a favorite name in that family, and perhaps
that was the reason it was usually written
"O-possum."
The. Deacon pretended to groan and
said, Oh! please give Browny a chance
to tell his story, and finish up this picnic
before morning, for I am getting sleepy."
Then Browny said the little fellow was about
his size, and wore a sailor-suit, just like the pretty
one he had worn the summer before.
A funny thing about the jacket was that it had
on the right shoulder the same kind of a three-
cornered mended place that his own had, and he
wondered if Oliver had tumbled out of a cherry-
tree, as he himself did when he tore his jacket.
Then he asked his mother what had become of
his sailor-suit.
The Deacon looked over to Mother Bunny and
slyly said he was beginning to understand why it
was that a suit of clothes never lasted more than
one season in that family, and why their children
never had anything fit to wear left over from last
year.
Mother Bunny blushed a little as she replied:
"Our children outgrow some of their clothing,
Father, and it seems a pity not to have it doing
somebody some good. You knew very well," said
she, "when we sent the bundle last spring, even
if you did not know all that was inside."
Cousin Jack remarked that he saw a load of
wood going over there about that time, and if his
memory was not at fault the Deacon was driving
and using the bundle of clothing for a seat.


7o8


[JULY.






THE BUNNY STORIES.


Browny asked if it really was his suit that Oliver
was wearing, and his mother said it probably
was the same one, for she sent it in the bundle
with the other things, although she was almost
ashamed to do so, because the mended place showed
so plainly.
Cousin Jack smiled at Browny and said, You
ought to be thankful you have such a kind mother
to help to hide the scars left by your heedlessness,
but how about the other little chap who did not fall
out of a tree, but has to wear your patches for you ? "
Browny did not answer, for he remembered how
it happened. He had nearly ruined a young
cherry-tree, besides tearing his jacket, by trying
to get the fruit without waiting for a ladder as he
had been told to do. Turning again to the Dea-
con, Cousin Jack said, It seems to me you might
make a good Sunday-school talk on the subject of
second-hand clothes. I have seen," he continued,
large families where the outgrown garments
were handed down from older to younger until
the patches and stains left for the last one to wear
would have ruined the reputation, if not the dispo-
sition, of a born angel."
The Deacon said he would think about it, for it
was rather unfair to the orphans to label them
with the ink-stains and patches, and other signs
of untidiness or carelessness, which really belonged
to the Bunnies themselves.
Well, well," said Cousin Jack, perhaps when
you get the subject well warmed-over for the Sun-
day-school children, you can season it with a few
remarks to the grown folks, who may be a little


careless in handing down their second-hand habits
of fault-finding, ill temper, and other failings, for
their children to wear and be blamed for all their
lives."
The Deacon coughed, and as he saw Bunnyboy
trying to hide a yawn with his hand, he asked him
what he was trying to say.
Bunnyboy replied that he was not saying any-
thing, but was trying to keep awake by thinking
about how Tumblekins looked before they washed
him in the brook.
"From his shoulders to his heels," said he,
"Tumblekins was plastered with black mud so
thick that you could not see whether his clothing
was patched or whole."
I felt sorry for him," continued Bunnyboy,
"but he looked so comical I could not help
laughing."
Browny said he hoped the little fellow had an-
other of his suits to put on at the Home, and he
guessed Tumblekins would n't mind wearing a
patch or two, rather than to be sent to bed until
the soiled suit was washed and dried.
Browny's remark reminded Mother Bunny that
it was getting late, and long past the Bunnies'
bedtime, and, as Cuddledown had been fast asleep
in her arms for half an hour, she said they ought
not to sit up any longer.
So they all said Good-night," and went to
bed, tired but happy, and thankful, too, that they
had so happy and so comfortable a home, all their
own, with Father and Mother and Cousin Jack to
share it with them.


(To be continued.)


FIVE CENTS' WORTH OF FUN.


1889.]


709








TIGER.


By ELIZABETH F. PARKER.

THE dog shown in the picture on this page is Tiger. It looks just like
Shim, except that he does not always look so sleepy; but he had
been hard at work when I asked him to sit for his picture.
Tiger lives on an orange plantation near the St. John's River
in Florida, and when night comes he watches the place until
morning, and drives off the thieves who sometimes come to
steal the fruit.
When it is daylight again, Tiger goes down among the
tall, big-leaved banana plants and drives away the
moccasin snakes that hide there where it is
.,rr* \shady and damp and cool. The men who
work among the bananas are,
afraid of these poisonous
1 snakes, but Tiger is not.
In fact, Tiger likes to hunt
snakes. During the day he trots off between
his naps to see that no snakes have crawled q
in among the banana plants; and when peo-
ple come to see his master, and they begin
to talk about snakes, Tiger is awake in an
instant. Then his master will say, "Tiger
knows where the snakes are; he would .,
like to show you one, now "; and, if the
visitors will only go with him, he will lead them down to the river, push in
among the old planks, and then bark, as much as to say, "There they are."
And there they will be, sure enough, swimming away into the river.
Perhaps after this, when you eat your Florida oranges or bananas, you
will think of brave Tiger
who watches his master's
fruit so care- ----s fully; for he
perhaps took care of those
very oranges -and bananas
so that you might have
sweet fruits to eat.
710o












































































GREoiHfali'


SKETCHES AT THE DOG SHOW.
























HOW ROCKETS ARE MADE.

BY LIEUT. W. R. HAMILTON, U. S. A.

ROCKETS are made for three purposes: for signaling;
for decorations or celebrations, or as projectiles in war.
For signals, the charge consists of 12 parts of niter, 2 of
sulphur, and 3 of charcoal. The ornamental, or decora-
tive, rocket is the one we see used on the Fourth of July,
and the composition of which it is made comprises 122
parts of mealed or finely pulverized powder, 80 of niter,
40 of sulphur, and 40 of cast-iron filings.
The principal parts of the rocket as shown in the dia-
gram are: a, the case, made by rolling stout paper, covered
on one side with paste, around wooden form, at the same
time applying considerable pressure. The end is then
"choked," or brought tightly together, with twine. The
paper case thus made is next placed in a copper mold, so





that a conical copper spindle will pass up through the
choke, and the composition, b, is then poured in and
packed by blows of a mallet on a copper drift or packing-
tool made to fit over the spindle. The top of the case is
now closed with a layer of moist plaster-of-paris one inch
thick, perforated with a small hole for the passage of the
flame to the upper part, or pot "-c. The pot is formed
of another paper cylinder slipped over and pasted to the
top of the case and surmounted by a paper cone filled with
tow. The decorations are placed in the pot and are
scattered through the air when the flame, having passed
through the aperture of the plaster, reaches a small charge
of mealed powder, d, placed in the pot. The stick is a
piece of pine wood, tapering, and about nine times the
length of the rocket. It is to guide the rocket in its flight.
The decorations in the pot may be "stars," serpents,"
marronss," gold-rain," and so on. Marrons" are
small paper shells filled with grained powder and pinned
with quick-match. Serpents," are small cases about X
inch in diameter in which is a composition of3 parts
niter, 3 sulphur, 16 mealed powder, Y charcoal. This
composition is driven in the case, the top of which is
closed by plaster-of-paris, having a small aperture through
which passes a piece of quick-match.


A "Tourbillon" is a rocket that moves upward with
a spiral motion. This motion is produced by six holes,
two lateral ones (one on each side) and four underneath.
It is steadied by two wings formed by attaching pieces
of hoop-iron to the middle of the case and at right angles
to it. Rain of fire, or gold fire, is cast-iron filings which
become red-hot in the flame of the explosion, and, on
dropping through the air, gleam accordingly. Looking
at the plan of the rocket, we find at the rear end of the
case a hollow part. This is where the copper spindle has
passed through the choke. It is filled with quick-match,
and a paper cap is placed over all. Now, when the match
is lighted it sets fire to the composition, and the gas gen-
erated by the burning of the latter must escape. In doing
so, it strikes against the air, which not giving way fast
enough causes the expanding body of gas to push the rocket
forward also. Of course, it is easy to see that the more
the composition burns the larger the burning surface be-
comes, and therefore there is constantly a greater amount
of gas generated each instant. So the rocket, having be-
gun to move comparatively slowly, rapidly increases its
rate of speed till the composition is nearly all burned out.
Then the flame, passing through the aperture in the
plaster, reaches the mealed powder in the pot, bursts it,
setting fire at the same time to all the decorations, which
are scattered through the air in beautiful colors.


PUSSY IN THE WITNESS-BOX.

BY THOSE. W. CHITTENDEN.

ALTHOUGH animals were not unfrequently summoned
in judicial proceedings, in days gone by, it is not -now a
common thing for animals to be formally summoned by
a court of justice, either to stand trial themselves or to
give evidence against or in behalf of litigants. Never-
theless, such an instance has just occurred in this coun-
try, and the testimony of a fine Maltese cat summarily
decided a case that had puzzled judge and jury for a
week.
The circumstances of this novel occurrence were as
follows: Two men living in a Western city each owned
a young Newfoundland dog, and the two animals resem-
bled each other so strongly in all points that it was not
possible for even the respective owners to distinguish






FROM OUR SCRAP-BOOK.


them. By some means one of the dogs was lost, and
his owner seeing, as he supposed, his missing pet in the
street one day, about a month after the loss, naturally
took possession of him, and led him home. We will
call this dog Major to distinguish him. The proprie-
tor of Major objected strongly to this proceeding, and
laid claim to the animal, his title.being promptly dis-
puted by the first, who insisted that the dog belonged to
him, and added that, as possession was nine points of
the law," he proposed to keep him, let the other do what
he might. Argument and persuasion failing, suit was
brought to recover Major, and the case was regularly
brought into court and came to trial about Christmas
time, before a judge and a jury.
Witnesses on both sides testified positively that it was
Major, and that it was not Major- the animal himself,
meanwhile, going freely to either of his claimants, and
leaving one readily at the call of the other, seeming
quite indifferent as to which one might finally secure
him. A whole week was taken up with conflicting testi-
mony, and even then neither judge nor jury were the
wiser, or better prepared to render a true decision con-
cerning the case.
At this point a woman living in the same house with
Major's owner declared that her cat could settle the
question as to which dog it was, since the cat and Major
were on terms of great friendship, eating and playing
together, and sleeping on the same rug, while the cat
was the sworn foe of all other canines, and had worsted
many in fair fight.
Here was a solution by which all partiesto the con-
troversy were willing to abide, and a formal writ was ac-
cordingly issued in the name of the people of the State
commanding all and singular, the owner or owners of
a certain Maltese cat to produce the living body of the
said animal before the Hon. So-and-so, a justice duly
and legally commissioned by the people of the common-
wealth aforesaid," at a given time and place duly speci-
fied in the writ, and thereof to fail not at their own
proper peril."
At the time appointed the momentous cat was duly
produced before the honorable court, Major and his
Claimant being on hand, as well as a large assembly at-
tracted by the novelty of the proceeding. The record
does not state whether Puss was duly sworn to tell"' the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," nor
whether his owner was required to act as proxy for him
in this respect.
However this may have been, he proceeded to vindi-
cate his mistress's assertions, first with regard to his
fighting qualities, for, on the introduction of some strange
animals of the canine species, brought by direction of the
dignified court, he dilated his tail to most majestic pro-
portions, arched his back in monumental style, and gave
battle, to the satisfaction of the spectators, if not to that
of his adversaries, clearing the room in fine style, and in
an exceedingly brief space of time. Next, Major was
brought in, whereupon Pussy's warlike mood and de-
meanor were speedily changed to demonstrations of
Acquaintance and good-fellowship, the animals recogniz-


ing each other to the satisfaction of all concerned, and
immediately terminating by this conclusive evidence a
suit which, except for the shrewd thought of a woman,
might have dragged on interminably and led to rancor
and strife.

WON BY A BIRD.


A WELL-KNOWN gentleman of Savannah tells this
story: "I notice in this morning's paper an interesting
account of how a dog was made to testify in a case in
which he was claimed by a soldier who had at one time
been in the English Army in India. According to the
account, the soldier said that if the dog did not under-
stand the Hindustani language he would not claim him,
but if he did he would consider the. dog belonged to
him. When the case was called in court, the soldier said
something in the Hindu tongue, and the dog imme-
diately recognized him, and, running through the crowd,
jumped into the witness-box and fawned on the soldier."
Another said that this was a case similar to one
which occurred in Savannah many years ago, before
steamships went to that port. A gentleman owned a
very valuable mocking bird, of which he thought a good
deal. The bird was stolen. The gentleman was very
much put out over it, and hunted everywhere to recover
it. He heard of a visitor from the North who had pur-
chased a mocking-bird and was about to leave the port
on a sailing vessel. The gentleman concluded that he
would go down to the vessel to see if the bird was not
his. Upon reaching the vessel, sure enough, he found a
man with a mocking-bird which he at once recognized
as the one which he had lost. He told the visitor that
the bird belonged to him, and the visitor asked how he
could recognize the bird from any other, and was unwill-
ing to give it up until some evidence had been given of
ownership.
The Savannahian finally said that he would make com-
plaint before a magistrate, and if he did not prove it by
the bird itself, he would not make any further claim. So
together they went before Magistrate Railford, who
had his office at the time in a little building where the
Custom-house now stands. The complaint was made, and
the claimant of the bird -said that he would prove that
the mocking-bird was his,by'the bird itself. The magis-
trate was somewhat surprised, and asked: "How are
you going to do that ? "
The gentleman replied that he would whistle an air,
and if the,bird took it up and followed him, it ought to
be sufficient evidence of ownership. 'If the bird did not
follow him, then he would make no further claim to it.
He whistled the tune St. Patrick's Day in the Morn-
ing," and the bird joined in and whistled it through
without interruption. The magistrate said: "I am
satisfied the bird is yours. I don't wish any further
evidence of the fact of ownership." The visitor was
charmed and wanted the bird badly, and offered $1oo for
it, but the owner refused to part with it for any amount.-
Savannah News.











SOAP-BUBBLES.

BY THOMAS W. CHITTENDEN.


A SOAP-BUBBLE. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY THOMAS W. CHITTENDEN.)


LOOKING through the advertising pages of ST.
NICHOLAS, as I suppose a majority of its readers
ordinarily do, I noticed one announcement that
once would have been very attractive to me. It
is n't necessary to tell how long ago, and, indeed,
I must confess that the notice yet had its interest
for me, in spite of my gray hairs. I will confess
a secret: I am still fond of blowing bubbles, and
that was what the advertisement was about.
As I read, I wondered whether you younger
readers have thought much about soap-bubbles,
and whether many among you know how won-
derful they are, and how profound philosophers
have considered them worthy of careful study, and
how many of the remarkable facts about them are
even yet not fully nor satisfactorily explained. How-
ever this may be, I think it likely that many will
be glad to know how to blow a bubble bigger than
their own heads, or rather than any single head is


likely to be under normal circumstances. As evi-
dence that this can be done, here is a picture which
shows just such a bubble, together with the small
boy who did the blowing. A measurement will
show that the bubble is considerably larger than
the boy's head, which is quite as big as that of the
majority of boys of his age.
With care in following out the directions, I think
that no one need fail to blow a bubble quite as
large as that shown in the picture; I have often
blown larger, but, as already suggested, I have had
much practice. Still, my little friend succeeded
very well at his first attempt, and there is no reason
why others may not do as well. I can promise
them that they will find a number of things about
a soap-bubble worthy of attention, whatever its
size. Good soap is necessary. I have found the
oldest specimens of white Castile or Marseilles
soap the best. Ordinary soaps contain too much






SOAP-BUBBLES.


water, as usually sold, and I have not had time to
ascertain what modifications are necessary to make
their use practicable. Next to white Castile, the
mottled Castile gives the best results. The soap
being obtained, a friendly druggist must carefully
weigh out sixty grains (for exactness in proportions
is needful) for each ounce of water. That is, one
drachm (according to the Apothecary's Weight of
the old arithmetics), and when the weighing is done
and the obliging druggist thanked for kindness,
the rest is plain sailing. A bottle with a sound
cork is the next requirement. It must be large
enough to hold three or four times the quantity
of solution you wish to make. Do not prepare too
much at one time; two ounces of soap solution
will be a good quantity, and for this a six or eight
ounce bottle will be about the right thing. The
bottle must be well cleaned and then well rinsed
out with soft water-which, by the way, should
be used for all the operations. All being ready,
the soap is cut into fragments small enough to
enter the bottle. Measure an ounce of water for
each drachm of soap; this can be done with a tea-
spoon, eight spoonfuls making an ounce. Having
poured the water and put the soap into the bottle,
we have now to await perfect solution, which will


y






1'r~


happen in the course of two or three hours, if the
bottle be put in a moderately warm place. Then
add glycerine to the soap solution, the quantity
varying with our ambition. I have found that one-
half the volume of the solution gives excellent
results; that is to say, to each ounce of water add
one-half ounce of glycerine, measuring the quanti-
ties instead of weighing them, in both cases. The
bottle is now to be tightly corked and well shaken;
then set aside for two or three hours more, and
well shaken again. These alternate periods of rest
and agitation should continue for a whole day.
Finally, let the bottle stand undisturbed and
tightly corked for twenty-four hours. Bubbles
of great size and beauty may be blown with
this solution.
A thin glass pipe will give better results than a
clay-pipe, but is by no means essential; if a clay-
pipe be used, it should have as long a stem as
possible. After the pipe has been used for a time
it will work much better than at first; indeed, it is
possible that the experimenter may pronounce the
whole a failure unless he reserves his opinion until
the pipe gets into good working order, a condition
depending on causes that I have not yet satisfac-
torily learned.


SOAP-BUBBLES.


FILL the pipe !
Gently blow;
Now you '11 see
The bubbles grow!
Strong at first,
Then they burst,
Then they go to
Nothing, Oh !


CNN~






'C1


<>0:














































































































MERMAIDS AND THEIR PETS. DRAWN BY MILDRED HOWELLS.










THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


PIKESVILLE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I took you for two or three
years, and then went away. This is my first letter, and
I 'most always read the letters in the Letter-box," but
have never had the pleasure of writing. I had a don-
key, but he died; he was very cunning; he would not
drink out of a pail; he would cry for water; we would
give him a pail of water, and he would smell it, and their
push it over; he would drink only out of the hose. I
remain, yours truly, MAY E-


COOPER'S PLAINS, BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl only nine
years old. I live in Australia.
We have taken you for three years. I liked the little
"Brownies" and the Pygmies very much, and all the
pretty pieces of poetry you sent us.
I live eight miles from Brisbane. I go to school in the
train, and I have a season ticket. I have three sisters an(
one brother, and the youngest is a dear little girlie. She
is two years old; she always has rosy cheeks.
We have a little Shetland pony which we ride some
times. My brother is younger than I am, and he rode
it forty miles in one day. I have no more news to tel
you now. From your little friend,
JESSIE GLEN J-- .

THIS letter from a little Southern girl is one of many
concerning Elsie Leslie Lyde, which have been received
since the publication of the April ST. NICHOLAS:

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Elsie Leslie Lyde's picture
in the April number, 1889, was perfectly lovely!
looked at it and studied it for a long while. The express
sion is so gentle and child-like. She looks like a swee
dear little girl; and from what I have read of her,
think she would be a fair and true example for othe
children to follow. If we children could all be as simple
earnest, unaffected, and loving as Elsie is described te
be, what a blissful and sweet little world the "child
world" would be! Don't you think so, ST. NICHOLAS
I have named my large French doll, with long, brigh
curly hair, Elsie Leslie Lyde.
I am, your ever loving friend,
HEATHERBELL."

WILMINGTON, N. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been reading your store
about dogs, and it makes me wish to write and tell yoi
about one which my father's family used to own.
He was a little black-and-tan terrier, and his name wa
"Jip." He was very intelligent. My aunt and he:
friend would often dress him in their doll's clothes an(
then put him to bed, pretending that he was sick. He
would take the medicine, and then open his mouth fo:
something to take'the taste out. Just when he looked
very sick indeed, my father would rush through the
room, calling out, Rats, Jip, rats and away Jip would
go, scattering the bed-clothes and spoiling the girls' fun


Sometimes when he saw boys playing ball in the street
he would run and catch the ball and scamper home with
Iit. Then the boys would come and beg for the dog to
Splay with them. My grandfather, who was a physi-
cian, would sometimes take Jip with him on his rounds.
t Once, after leaving the dog at home, the doctor was much
Surprised to find Jip waiting for him at a patient's house
I where he had been the day before. On one occasion a
little girl sitting by a fire said, I wish I had some light-
wood to put into this fire," and Jip immediately ran out
of the room, and returned with a piece. He did not
enjoy being washed, and when the children, to tease him,
would say, Come, Betty, and wash Jip,' he would run
Sand hide under the sofa. He loved to play hide-and-
seek, and would stay shut up in the lower part of a wash-
Sstand until the children were hidden. Sometimes they
e would catch him trying to peep; then they would shame
him, and he would hang his head and turn back, waiting
Patiently until they "whooped."
I Some years ago this dear old dog was stolen, and
S"the children" have never seen him again. I remain,
Your little friend, A. L. B- .


1 NICE, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I was in Rome at the close
of the Jubilee-year, I saw the Pope, and I want to tell
you about him. He was carried in his sedia, and moved
his hand in blessing as he passed through. He is
Eighty years old and has white hair, and with his miter
d on looked very majestic. There was a great crowd,
and although St. Peter's is perfectly immense, there was
no room left after everybody got in. Everybody was
Obliged to wear black, with black Spanish lace scarfs
I draped on their heads. While we were in Rome, I saw
- the king, queen, and crown prince.
t My home is in Chicago, but we have been in this
I country since last Fourth of July.
r At present we are in Nice, a lovely winter resort on
Sthe Mediterranean, where they have been having a Battle
o of Flowers, and it is great fun.
We have been in England, Belgium, Germany, Switz-
? erland, and Italy, and are now on our way through
t France, and expect to return home in May.
Hoping this is not too long to print, I remain, sin-
cerely yours,
A LITTLE AMERICAN GIRL.


u L. G. H. will find the article entitled "Nantucket
Sinks in ST. NICHOLAS for August, 1887.

r
d NEW YORK.
e DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first time that we
r have written to you. We spent last summer abroad, and
I much of the time in Paris. While there we visited the
e Louvre, and were much interested in the various mum-
I mies, sphinxes, statues, etc. Our father, who is French,
-though we are stanch little Americans,-is a naval
717






THE LETTER-BOX.


officer, and is away much of the time; but we expect
him back soon, for which we are very happy.
We have a large dog, an intelligent and beautiful grey-
hound, named Reha," whom we love very much.
Your admiring readers,
VICTORINE and YOLANDE.


TROY, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, eleven years
old. I have taken you only six months, but I enjoy you
very much. I have taken music lessons for three years,
and I play the Housekeeping Songs in your delight-
ful magazine. I have also taken French for two years,
and to-day I translated three Mother Goose" songs,
which papa said I might send to you.
The first one is Three Blind Mice ":
Trois souris aveugles !
Trois souris aveugles!
Vois-tu comme elles courent!
Vois-tu comme elles courent!
Elles couraient apres la femme du fermier,
Qui leur coupe les queues avec un grand couteau,
As-tu jamais vu une telle chose en ta vie
Que trois souris aveugles! "
Next, "Baa, baa, Black Sheep":
Baa, baa, mouton noir,
N'as-tu pas de laine ? "
"Oh si, monsieur,
Trois bourses pleines !
Une pour le monsieur,
Une pour la dame,
Et un pour le gargon,
Qui crie dans l'all6e."
I am very sorry that I could not make the last word
rhyme with the rest of the verse. My last one is Mary,
Mary, Quite Contrary":
Marie, Marie, tout a fait contraire,
Comment croit votre jardin ? "
Avec cloches argent6es des coquilles rides,
Et'des jolies filles tout en rangess"

But I must not make my letter too long. I tried for
the prize in your "King's Move Puzzle," but did not
succeed. I wish you would publish another.
Your admiring little friend, MAY M- .


CINCINNATI, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am but ten years of age, and
I write to tell you how very much interested I am by
Daddy Jake, the Runaway," though I see it is to be
in only one more number of the ST. NICHOLAS.
I live on Walnut Hills, a beautiful suburb of Cincin-
nati. I have many nice books, but I can not find one
'story in them as nice as those in your magazine. I must
now close. Your affectionate friend,
RICHARD V. R-.


YATES CITY, ILLINOIS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, eleven years
old, and have four younger brothers. I live on a farm
four miles from Yates City. My little brothers and I
have a mile to walk to school.
I like very much to read the" Letter-box." Mybrothers
all like the "Bunny Stories." This is the first letter I
ever wrote you. Your little friend,
KATHARINE N--.


RONDOUT, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your magazine
for a number of years, and like it better every year. It
has been given to me by my uncle as a Christmas pres-
ent. Our city is situated on the Hudson River, and from
our school we have a very fine view of this beautiful river,
also of the Catskill and Shawangunk Mountains, in New
York, and the Berkshire Mountains, in Massachusetts.
In winter we have great sport in skating and ice-boat-
ing. One day we raced with the trains on the Hudson
River Railroad. We have also a large toboggan-slide,
but it was not used this last winter on account of the
mildness of the season. I am sixteen years old.
Your reader, MARY E. H-.


Los ANGELES, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am, of course, one of your
many readers and admirers, and as I have never seen
any letter from this place, I thought that I would write
to you. I am thirteen years old, and have lived here
nearly all my life in fact, I have never been out of Cali-
fornia, and have only seen snow once. I suppose that
will seem very funny to some of your Eastern readers
who see snow every winter.
We usually have nice times here in the winter, going
on picnics to the cations and gathering ferns and wild
flowers after the first rain, which is usually in Decem-
ber. "Juan and Juanita" is my favorite story, although
I like them all, very much.
Your sincere friend, BERTHA C- .


LEBANON, OREGON.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen letter from
any part of Oregon, so I thought I would write- to you.
I live on a farm, six miles from Lebanon, which is our
post-office.
Our farm is between two soda springs. It is about a
mile and a half to each. The name of one is Sodaville,
the other is Waterloo. At Waterloo the water bubbles
up out of the rocks, and no matter how many drink out
of it, the spring is never dry. We have to cross the river
to it, and in the winter the river rises over the rocks so
we can't get the water at all. Sodaville is a great sum-
mer resort; but I think Waterloo is the pleasanter place.
I have lived in Oregon nearly ever since I can remem-
ber, though I was born in Ohio. I used to live in Salem,
the capital of Oregon. It is a beautiful city.
I have taken you for five years, and like you more and
more all the while. I have saved every number, and
hope some time to have them bound.
I think "Little Lord Fauntleroy" and "Juan and
Juanita are just splendid, but I think the best story you
have published since I began taking you is "His One
Fault." My papa often says that is one of the best
stories he ever read, and then he will laugh and say,
"Poor boy, he did have a hard time getting the right
horse!" Your constant reader, ANNIE F. T- .



WE thank the young friends whose names here follow
for pleasantletters which we have received from them:
V. A. C., L. G. H., Valerie La Sautis, J. H. L., Iona
J. L. C., McV., Sam Chapin, May Griffith, Harry Lee
Wiesner, Charlotte B. T., Anna Olive M., Ora M. Pierce,
Ethel Ireland, Louie R., Frances McCahill, E. D. Black-
well, Catherine C., Stella Stearns, Mary L. Robinson,
Florence Griffith, Z. Z. Z., May Taylor, John Miller,
Harry Geraldine W., Alice Smith, Addie and Erma M.,
Gardner Porter.
















THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER.

OCTAGONS. I. Car. 2. Ruled. 3. Curator. 4. Alabama. RIMLESS WHEELS. 1. From i to 8, Campbell; from 9 to r6,
5. Retaken. 6. Domes. 7. Ran. II. Cad. 2. Pagod. 3. Cabi- Barnabas. Cross-words: Cubeb, Aorta, molar, Posen, Bohea, Eliab,
net. 4. Agitate. 5. Donated. 6. Deter. 7. Ted. Lamia, lobes. II. From i to 8, Monmouth; from 9 to z6, Water-
CONNECTIVE WORD-SQUARES. Impassionate. I. Across: x. Imp. loo. Cross-words: Macaw, opera, nabit, midge, otter, usual, taboo,
2. Dee. 3. Ant. II. i. Ass. 2. See. 3. Pat. III. z. Ion. hollo.-- CHARADE. Summer.
2. Day. 3. Are. IV. I. Ate. 2. Won. 3. Led. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Bonaparte. Cross-words: x. grumBling.
JUNE ROSES. Musk. 2. Tea. 3. Swamp. 4. Dog. 5. Field. 2. chrOnic. 3. VeNus. 4. nAp. 5. P. 6. cAb. 7. arRow.
6. Moss. 7. China. 8. Cabbage. 9. Dwarf. io. Indian. 8. plaTter. 9. promEnade.
Pi. A glory apparels the corn; RHYMED DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Cupid; finals, arrow.
The meadow-lark carols the mom; Cross-words: i. CallA. 2. UlsteR. 3. PalloR. 4. IndigO. 5 DaW.
The dew glistens over DIAMOND. i. T. 2. Tac. 3. Xeres. 4. Tenants. 5. Taran-
The grass and the clover tula. 6. Century. 7. Sturk. 8. Sly. 9. A.
'T is June-and the summer is born! A RHOMBOID. Across: i. Ionic. 2. Sated. 3. Pedal. 4. Metal.
5. Sedan.
The radiant hours adorn A HEXAGON. x. Spur. 2. Pined. 3. Unused. 4. Residue.
With clustering flowers the thorn; 5. Deduce. 6. Ducal. 7. Eels.
The soft breezes hover FLORAL PUZZLE, Rose Month. i. Rush. 2. Oleander. 3. Saf-
The grass and the clover: fron. 4. Ebony. 5. Motherwort. 6. Osier. 7. Nightshade. 8. Teasel.
'T is June-and the summer is born! 9. Harebell. 4
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April x5th, from Clara B. Orwig-A. L. W. L.-
J. B. Swann Paul Reese K. G. S.- Bessie M. Allen-"Infantry "-Nellie L. Howes -A. H. R. and M. G. R.- O. D. O.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April x5th, from Grace E. Mercer, i Maude Lillian M., I -
Carrie Holzman, I- Maude E. Palmer, 2- Margaret Cassels, I--R. F. Spilsbury, -A. H. G., 2--Edwin Lewis, I--Daisy L.
Brown, a Lillian A. Sturtevant, I-Mary L. Gerrish, 12- Maud H. Levie, I-Grace Harris, i -Louise Ingham Adams, zi-Lisa
D. Bloodgood, 3 -" The Wise Five," 12 Hettie S. Black, i Marion Stickney, 2 Fannie E. Hecht, i Chester, i R. A. P., i -
" Sister May," Harry Sillcocks, 2--I. L. Wilson, x--Jeannette How, x -" A Family Affair," 7- T. H. Dickson, I Lily and
Helen, 3 -Jean Perry, 12- Helen C. McCleary, 2 --Eula Lee Davidson, -V. F., L. L. F. and D. F., 6-No Name, New York,
ro-"Maxie and Jackspar," I2 -Sidney Sommerfeld, 2 Edith Woodward, 5 -Sarah C. Scott, Helen C. Skinner, i V. A. C.,
2-Belle MacMahon, x -Zoe H., 2- Mary and Mabel Osgood, 12- Clara Danielson, 2- Aunt Kate, Mamma and Jamie, 12--Lina
Nyburg, Bessie Byfield, 3 -Effie K. Talboys, 6- Florence Young, i Estelle Young, F. Sybil Moorhouse, i-"Nadjy,"
I Ed. and Bradley, 2a- Astley P. C. Ashhurst, 2 Irma Moses, x Marie A. Burnett, -Ida C. Thallon, rd Elizabeth A. Adams,
i-" May and 79," 8- D. L., 4-Gladys, 2 -J. F. Gerrish and E. A. Daniell, 2--May Martin, 2-Nora and Mother, 7-Shyler,
9 Mattle E. Beale, Is- Florence Parkhurst, 5-Emma V. Fish, 3 Henry Guilford, xr Mary C. Barringer, I H. H. Alexander, i-
D. M. Barringer, i -Arthur C. Hartich, 3 --Jennie, Mina and Isabel, 1o-Jo and I, 12--Alice Turpin, 3--Adrienne Forrester, 5-
Kate Guthrie, -Edith and Marion, 7 Mathilde Ida and Alice, 6- Edith Oakley, 2- Henry W. Bill, W. Sayre Kitchel, 2-
" Cour de Lion and Shakespeare," 4 George S. S, 4 -Alice A. Foster, 6- Katie A. F. R., 2 Horace Wilkinson, 7-- S. S., 4.


DOUBLE DIAGONALS. a famous city of ancient times. My 4-xx-60 is by what means. My
37-16-32--2 is an ancient musical instrument. My -47 is the
THE letters in each of the following eleven groups may be trans- name of a mythological maiden who was transformed by Hera into
posed so as to form one word. When these are rightly guessed and a heifer. My 49-33-53-62 is vitality. My 9-x8-39-46-42-67-29-
placed one below another, in the order here given, the diagonals, 70 is toughness. My 64-5-40 is a body of water. My 2-50-35 is
from the upper left-hand corner to the lower right-hand corner, will limited in number. My 51-58-27 is to petition. My 26-8-36-24-
spell something for which our forefathers fought. The diagonals, 63-15-31 is to corrugate. My 6-23-7 is an exclamation denoting
from the upper right-hand corner to the lower left-hand-corner, will contempt My 52-65-17-12-38-68 is to choke. My 3-45-61-43-
spell a publication issued by our forefathers. 54-2I is a shivering. My 34-14-59-19-57-io is a fish much esteemed
by epicures. CORNELIA BLIMBER."
i. Beat Lion, Tad.

3~. I clap a stair.
4. Con, ring toll.
5. Marshall, mow.
6. Rig a gun cone.
7. To me a tIm can.

9. Shear, tier, C. R.
I o. I ty pond rose.
xI. I cut on Col. U. S. v. S. F.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC;.
MY primals and finals each name a famous geologist.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. An iron block upon which
metals are hammered. 2. A short prayer. 3. An Atheman. 4. A
volley. 5. Slaughtered. 6. A mass of unwrought metal. 7. A
plain face or plinth at the lower part of a wall. "DAB KINZER."

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of seventy-two letters, and form an old couplet
about the month of July.
My 7-56 is the first word of the couplet My 4i is much used by IN the above illustration are suggested the names of fourteen dif-
letter-writers. My i3-22-$5 is sometimes used for decorative pur- ferent stitches used by needlewomen. What are the different
poses. My 30-66-28-72 is grayish-white. My 69-48-44-25 was stitches?
719







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


RHOMBOID.

ACROSS : I. To shine. 2. A southern constellation. 3. A bower.
4. A vessel with one mast. 5. A city mentioned in the Bible.
DOWNWARD: z. In Bangor. 2. An exclamation. 3. An epoch.
4. Tunes. 5. An old word meaning to wrap the head of in a hood.
6. A portion of the day. 7. A perch. 8. A river in Italy. 9. In
Bangor. c. D.
PI.
O ot eli ni eht prigneni garss
Hatt cruelfagly snebd ot eht dwins atth saps,
Dan ot kolo float het koa-esveal hutgroh
Toni het kys os depe, os buel!

O ot leef sa trelyut feer
Sa eht cribride ginsing beavo no het rete,
Ro het costlus pingip eirth words wrirh,
Ro het wond taht sisla romf eth sliteth-rrub !

REBUS: A TALE OF THE LIGHTS.


PECULIAR ACROSTIC.
ALL of the words described contain seven letters. When these
are rightly guessed and placed one below the other, in the order
here given, one row of letters (reading downward) will spell the
name of a poet who died on July 21, 1796; and another row will
spell the surname of a philanthropist who died on July 29, 1833.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A biennial plant of the parsley family. 2. A
singer in a choir. 3. Arranged in a schedule. 4. An Oriental
drink made of water, lemon-juice, sugar aid rose-water. 5. Per-
taining to the earth. 6. A club. 7. Sudden checks. 8. Resem-
bling grume. 9. To depict. ro. Threatened. iz. A small door
or gate. CYRIL DEANE.


CONCEALED WORDS.
MOUNTAINS.

1. DIRECT the clasping ivy where to climb."- Milton.
2. "The century living crow
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till at last they stood
As now they stand, mossy, and tall and dark."-Bryant.
'. "And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue
As singing birds from one bough to another."-Longfellow.
TREES.

Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise."-- Pope.
2. "I will not presume
To send such peevish tokens to a king."- Shaksere.
3, Visions of childhood stay, oh, stay,
Ye were so sweet and wild."-Halleck. B.

CUBE AND SQUARE.


I .


6


3I.


p--- -s -"

THE answer to this rebus is a little story about the object which is
pictured seventeen times in the accompanying illustration.

ACROSTIC.






Myflrst and second, third and fourth,
Are golden coins of various worth;
While my initials will unfold
A group of poems, quaint and old. B.

EASY RIDDLE.
I AM a little word composed of only five letters, yet so great is my
weight that strong men have been crushed by me, and I have been
known to destroy life by pressing too heavily upon those with whom
I came in contact. I am of the plural number, yet by adding the
letter s, I become singular. If, before adding the letter s, you cut
offmy head and tail, what remains is a verb implying existence; but
if, instead of thus mutilating me, you place my second letter before
my first, I am changed into what will make a poor man rich. My
3-2-1-4 is that in which many strive, but only one wins; my 5-x-2-
3-4 means to alarm; my 5-4-2-3 is to bum; my r-2-3 is very nec-
essary in large cities; my 5-4-2 is enticing to many; my-2--4 is
one; my 2-3-1 is not complete; my 4-2-3 is of very wonderful and
delicate construction; my 1-2-5-4 is visited very frequently by a
physician, who frequently has more 1-2-3-4-5 than a follower of any
other profession. F. R. F.


CUBE. From I to 2, mixed together confusedly; from 2 to 4, a
title formerly given to the eldest son of the king of France; from r
to 3, to distress; from 3 to 4, stepped upon; from 5 to 6, a part of
which anything is made; from 6 to 8, walked; from 5 to 7, to com-
pel; from 7 to 8, to cheer; from i to 5, meek; from 2 to 6, ajave-
lin; from 4 to 8, part of the day; from 3 to 7, a narrative.
INCLOSED SQUARE. I. Mixed. 2. Always. 3. A Roman em-
peror. 4. Stepped. CLARA O.

EASY BEHEADINGS.

r. BEHEAD dingles, and leave beverages. 2. Behead to expect, and
leave to attend. 3. Behead a useful instrument, and leave a tuft of
hair. 4. Behead informed, and leave merchandise. 5. Behead a
retinue, and leave to fall in drops. 6. Behead fanciful, and leave to
distribute. 7. Behead to suppose, and leave to languish. 8. Behead
at no time, and leave always.
The beheaded letters will name what most children enjoy.
KATE DEANE.

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.

MY first and my second you'll find in heat,
In spring can neither be found; .
My third and my fourth are in reading, you 'll see,
And also in merry-go-round;
My fifth and my sixth are in moments of time;
My seventh and eighth are in mean ;
My ninth and my tenth and my eleventh you 'll find
In a ponderous soup-tureen.
My whole, though imprisoned, rises and falls,
Informing the great world whether
It must stay in town and be making calls,
Or picnicking out in the heather.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


720




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