• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 The lamb that could n't keep...
 My deer-hunts in the Adirondac...
 A little Florentine lady
 The dragon's story
 The south wind
 A day among the blackberries
 The soldier's return (illustra...
 W. Jenks's express
 Helen Keller
 Among the Florida Keys
 A strange night-watchman
 Mother goose sonnets
 An artist's glimpse of northern...
 Fern-seed
 The story of Turk
 Modern harbor defenses
 The national flower
 The bunny stories
 The bubblyjock
 From our scrap-book
 The truthful fisherman
 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/UF00065513/00217
 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: VID00217
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
    The lamb that could n't keep up
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
    My deer-hunts in the Adirondacks
        Page 806
        Page 807
        Page 808
        Page 809
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
    A little Florentine lady
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
    The dragon's story
        Page 816
        Page 817
        Page 818
    The south wind
        Page 819
    A day among the blackberries
        Page 820
        Page 821
        Page 822
    The soldier's return (illustration)
        Page 823
    W. Jenks's express
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
        Page 827
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
        Page 831
        Page 832
        Page 833
    Helen Keller
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
    Among the Florida Keys
        Page 844
        Page 845
        Page 846
        Page 847
        Page 848
        Page 849
    A strange night-watchman
        Page 850
        Page 851
    Mother goose sonnets
        Page 852
        Page 853
    An artist's glimpse of northern Arizona
        Page 854
        Page 855
    Fern-seed
        Page 856
    The story of Turk
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
    Modern harbor defenses
        Page 863
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
    The national flower
        Page 868
    The bunny stories
        Page 869
        Page 870
        Page 871
        Page 872
    The bubblyjock
        Page 873
    From our scrap-book
        Page 874
    The truthful fisherman
        Page 875
    The letter-box
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
    The riddle-box
        Page 879
        Page 880
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text







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"IT TOOK NO NOTICE OF ALL THE CHILDREN'S CARE."
(SEE "THE LAMB THAT COULD N'T 'KEEP UP.'" DRAWN BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE.)
_~~~~t :,,.

"I TOKN OIE FALTECILRNSCR.
(SE cTH LABT.T OL CEPU. DANB MR ALCKFOr,
















ST. NICHOLAS.


SEPTEMBER, 1889.


No. II.


THE LAMB THAT COULD N'T "KEEP UP."

BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE.


UNTIL Jack Gilmour was seven years old, his
home had been at his grandfather's house, in a
country well-wooded and watered," as, no doubt,
the Dutch captain who discovered it described.it
to his king.
There was water in the river; there was water
in the ponds, which lay linked together by falling
streams among the hills above the mill; there
was water in the spring-lot; there was water in the
brook that ran through the meadow across the
road; there was water in the fountain that plashed
quietly all through the dark close summer nights
when not a leaf stirred, even of the weeping-ash,
and the children lay tossing in their beds, with
only their nightgowns covering them. And be-
sides all these living, flowing waters, there was
Water in the cistern that lay concealed under the
foundations of the house. Not one of the grand-
children knew who had dug it, or cemented it, or
sealed it up, for children and children's children
to receive their first bath from its waters. The
good grandfather's care had placed it there; but
even that fact the little ones took for granted, as
they took the grandfather himself,--as they took
the fact that the ground was under their feet, when
they ran about in the sunshine.
In an outer room, which had been a kitchen
once (before Jack's mother was born), there was a
certain place in the floor which gave out a hollow
S sound, like that from the planking of a covered
bridge, whenever Jack stamped upon it. Some-
body found him, one day, trying the echoes on this


queer spot in the floor, and advised him to keep
off it. It was the trap-door which led down into
the cistern; and although it was solidly made and
rested upon a broad ledge of wood well, it had
rested there on that same ledge for many years,
and it was n't a pleasant.thbtight that a little boy
in kilts should be prancing about with only a few
ancestral planks between him and a hidden pit of
water.
Once, when the trap-door had been raised for
the purpose of measuring the depth of the water
in the cistern, Jack had looked down and had
watched a single spot of light wavering over the face
of the dark still pool. It gave him a strange, un-
comfortable feeling, as if this water were something
quite unlike the outdoor waters which reflected the
sky instead of the under side of a board floor.
This water was imprisoned, alone and silent; and
if ever a sunbeam reached it, it was only a stray
gleam wandering where it could not have felt at
home, and must have been glad to leap out again
when the sunbeam moved away from the crack in
the floor which had let it in.
That same night a thunder-storm descended;
the chimneys bellowed and the rain made a loud
trampling upon the roof. Jack woke and felt for
his mother's hand. As he lay still, listening to the
rain, lessening to a steady, quiet drip, drip, he heard
-another sound, very mysterious in the sleeping
house; a sound as of a small stream of water fall-
ing from a height into an echoing vault. His
mother told him it was the rain-water pouring


Copyright, 1889, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.
803


VOL. XVI.






THE LAMB THAT COULD N'T "KEEP UP."


from all the roofs and gutters into the cistern, and
that the echoing sound was because the cistern was
"low." Next morning the bath water was deli-
ciously fresh and sweet; and Jack had no more
unpleasant thoughts about the silent, sluggish old
cistern.
Now, there are parts of our country where the
prayer, Give us this day our daily water," might
be added to the prayer, Give us this day our
daily bread "; unless we take the word bread to
mean all that men and women require to preserve
life to themselves and their children. That sad
people of the East to whom this prayer was given
so long ago, could never have forgotten the cost
and value of water.
If you turn the pages of a Bible concordance to
the word "water," you will find it repeated hun-
dreds of times, in the language of supplication, of
longing, of prophecy, of awful warning, of beauti-
ful imagery, of love and aspiration. The history
of the Jewish people in their wanderings, their wars
and temptations, to their final occupation of the
promised land, might be traced through the differ-
ent meanings and applications of this one word.
It was bargained, begged, and fought for, and was
apportioned from generation to generation. We
read, among the many stories of those thirsty
lands, how Achsah, daughter of Caleb the Keniz-
zite, not content with her dowry, asked of her
father yet another gift, without which the first were
valueless. For thou hast given me a southland;
give me also springs of water"; and Caleb gave
her the upper springs and the nether springs.
Now, our little boy Jack was seven years old,
and had to be taken more than half-way across the
continent before he learned that water is a precious
thing.
He was taken to the engineer's camp that has
been spoken of before in the pages of ST. NICH-
OLAS,* in a cation of a little, wild river, which is
within the borders of that region of the far West
known as the "Arid belt."'
Well, there was water in this river; but after
the placer-mining began in the month of May,
and Moor's Creek brought down the tailings"
from the mines and mingled them with the cur-
rent of the river, its waters became as yellow as
those of the famous Tiber, as it "rolls by the
towers of Rome ";-yellow with silt, which is not
injurious; but it is not pleasant to drink essence of
granite rock, nor yet to wash one's face in it.
They made a filter and filtered it; but every pail-
ful had to be packed," as they say in the West,
by the Chinese cook and the cook's assistant.
Economy in the use of water became no more than
a matter of common consideration for human
beings.


In addition to the river there was a stream which
came down the gulch close beside the camp. This
little stream was a spendthrift in the spring, and
wasted its small patrimony of water; by the mid-
dle of summer it had begun to economize, and
by September it was a niggard,--letting only a
small dribble come down for those at its mouth
to cherish in pools, or pots, or pails, or in what-
ever it could be gathered. This water of the
gulch was frequently fouled by the range cattle
that came crowding down to drink, mornings and
evenings; dead leaves and vegetation lay soaking
in it, as summer waned. It was therefore con-
demned for drinking, but served for bathing, or
for washing the camp clothing, and was exceed-
ingly precious by reason 6f its small and steadily
decreasing quantity.
One morning, late in July, Jack was fast asleep
and dreaming. The sun was hot on the great
hills toward the east; hills that had been faintly
green for a few weeks in the spring, but were now
given up to the mingled colors of the gray-green
sage-brush and the dun-yellow soil.
They would have been hills of paradise could
rain have fallen upon them as often as it falls upon
the cedar-crowned knolls of the Hudson. For these
hills are noble in form and of great size, a family
of giants as they march skyward, arm in arm and

shoulder to shoulder; and the sky above them is
the sky we call "Italian." The "down-cafion
wind" that all night long had swept the gulch,
from its source in the hills to its mouth in the river,
had fainted dead away in the heat of the sun.
Presently the counter wind from the great, hot
plains would begin to blow, but this was the
breathless pause between.
The flies were tickling Jack's bare legs, and
creeping into the neck of his night-gown, where the
button was off, as it usually is off of a seven-year-
old night-gown. He was restless, "like a dog that
hunts in dreams," for he was taking the old paths
again that once he had known so well.
From the eastern hills came the mingled, fir-
off bleating, the ululation of a multitude of driven
sheep. The sound had reached Jack's dreaming
ear; suddenly his dream took shape, and for an
instant he was a happy boy.
He was "at-home" in the East. It was sheep-
washing time, the last week in May; the apple
orchards were a mass of bloom, and the deep, old,
winding lanes were sweet with their perfume.
Jack was hurrying up the lane by the Long Pond,
to the sheep-washing place, where the water came
down from the pond in -a dark, old, leaky, wooden
flume, --nd was held in a pool into which the
sheep were plunged by twos and by threes, squeezed
and tumbled about, and lifted out to stagger away


* See "An Idaho Picnic," in ST. NICHOLAS for August, 1887.


804





THE LAMB THAT COULD N'T '"KEEP UP."


under the apple-trees and dry their heavy fleeces
in the sun. Jack was kicking in his sleep, when
his name was called, by a voice outside the window,
and he woke. Nothing was left of the dream,
with all its sweets of sight and sound and smell,
but the noise of the river's continuous wrestle with
the rocks of the upper bend, and that far-off multi-
tudinous clamor from over the sun-baked hills.
Jack, come out! said the voice of Jack's big
cousin. They are going to 'sheep' us. There's
a band of eight thousand coming "
There was a great scattering of flies and of bed-
clothes, as Jack leaped out. He wasted no regrets
upon the past,-one is n't so foolish as that at seven
years old,-but was ready for the joys of the pres-
ent. Eight thousand sheep, or half that number
(allowing for a big cousin's liberal computation),
were a sight worth seeing. As to being sheeped,"
what was there in an engineer's camp to sheep,"
unless the eight thousand woolly range-trotters
should trot over tents and house-roofs and stove-
pipes and all, like Santa Claus's team of reindeer!
Jack was out of bed and into his clothes in a
hurry, and off over the hill with his cousin, but-
toning the buttons of his "'star" shirt-waist on
the way.
The band" was pouring over the hill-slopes
in all directions, making at full speed for the river.
The hills themselves seemed to be dizzily moving.
The masses of distant small gray objects swarmed,
they drifted, they swam, with a curious motion-
less motion. They looked like nothing more ani-
mated than a crop of gray stones, nearly of a size,
spreading broadly over the hills and descending
toward the river with an impulse which seemed
scarcely more than the force of gravitation.
The dogs were barking, the shepherds were
racing and shouting, to head them off and check
their speed, lest.the hundreds behind should press
upon the hundreds in front and force them out
into deep water. The hot air throbbed with the
tumult.
When the thirst of every panting throat had
been slaked and the band began to scatter along
the hill-slopes, the boys went forward to speak
with the sheep-men.
A few moments afterward they were returning
to the camp on a run, to ask permission to accept
from the shepherds the gift of a lamb that could n't
" keep up with the band. It had run beside its
mother as far as its strength would carry it, and
then it had fallen and been trampled; and there
it must lie unless help could revive it. A night on
the hills', with the coyotes about, would finish it.
Permission was given, and breakfast was a per-
functory meal for the children by reason of the
lamb, lying on the strip of shade outside. After


breakfast they sopped its mouth with warm milk,
they sponged it with cold water, they tried to force
a spoonful of mild stimulant between its teeth.
They hovered and watched for signs of returning
life. The lamb lay with its eyes closed; its sides,
which were beginning to swell, rose and sank in
long heavy gasps. Once it moved an ear, and the
children thought it must be coming to." Upon
this hopeful sign they began at once to make plans
for the lamb's future life and joys with them in the
caton.
It should be led down to the river, night and
morning, to drink; it should have bran soaked in
milk; it should nibble the grass on the green strip;
they would build it a house, for fear the coyotes
should come prowling about at night; it should
follow them up the gulch and over the hills, and
race with them in the evenings on the river beach,
as "Daisy," the pet fawn,'had done -until some-
thing happened to her (the children never knew
what), and the lovely creature disappeared from
the cation and out of their lives forever.
When the strip of morning shadow was gone,
they lifted the lamb tenderly and carried it to the
strip of afternoon shadow on the other side of the
house; and still it took no notice of the water or
the milk, or of all the children's care, nor seemed
to hear that they were planning a happy life for it,
if only it would get well.
SWhen twilight came, and still it had not moved,
the children held anxious consultation on the sub-
ject of their neighbors, the coyotes; but their
father assured them there would be no danger, so
near to the house; and it seemed a pity to disturb
the poor lamb.
When the cool night wind began to blow down
the cation again, and the children were asleep, the
lamb made its last effort. It is the instinct of all
dumb creatures to keep upon their feet as long as
they can stand; for when they have fallen, the
herd has no compassion,--or it may be that its
comrades press around the sufferer out of curiosity,
or mistaken sympathy, and so trample it out of
existence without meaning the least harm. The
little nursling of the range obeyed this instinct in
its last moments--struggled to its feet and fell, a
few steps farther on; and the lamb that could n't
keep up was at rest.
No more toiling over hills and mountains, and
across hot valleys, packed in the midst of the band,
breathing the dust, stunned with the noise, always
hungry, almost always athirst, baked by the sun,
chilled by the snow, driven by the wind drift-
ing on, from mountain to river, from river to plain.
This one, out of eight thousand, could rest at
last, on cool grass, with the peace and the silence
and the room of a summer night around it.


805






806 THE LAMB THAT CO1

The band slept upon the hills that night; the
next morning they crossed the gulch above the
camp, and drank up by the way all the water of
the little stream. Not another drop was seen for
days. At length it gathered strength enough to
trickle down again, but it was necessary to dip it
up and let it stand in casks to settle before it was
fit for use; and the Chinamen carriers meanwhile
did double duty.
Those eastern hills in spring had been covered
with wild flowers,- the moss-pink, lupines both
white and blue, wild phlox, the small yellow crocus,
beds of tiny sweet-scented wild pansies, the camas
flower, and a tall-stemmed, pale lilac lily,- the


U


MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.

BY TREADWELL WALDEN.


I HAVE two or three stories of deer-hunting
to tell, which may prove entertaining to boys.
They were chiefly remarkable because I went a-
hunting before I learned to shoot, and yet to me,
who had never handled a rifle, came very nearly
the whole luck of the party. That is the way the
world goes, sometimes. The luckiest are, now and
then (happily, not always), those who have n't
learned to take a steady aim at anything. They
blunder into opportunities and make a hit without
knowing how.
I can afford to laugh at myself, for it was many
years ago that I so oddly turned out to be the
master-hunter during that three-weeks raid in the
woods.
The Adirondacks then were very different from
the Adirondacks of to-day. The wilderness was
less known, and more rarely visited. There were
no hotels, and no summer boarders. Any one
who went into it, went to rough it, and expected to
go hungry if he did n't catch fish or shoot deer.
You all know what a wild tract it is a region
of many miles across, in the heart of the State of
New York, covered with dense forests, filled with
mountains, and gleaming with countless streams
and beautiful lakes.
The captain of the party was a certain big
doctor of Philadelphia, with a voice as big as him-
self, a voice which went off in volleys that kept
you astir from morning till night. He was an ex-


perienced woodsman. The crack of his rifle and
the jolly thunder of his lungs had been heard many
a time "under the greenwood tree." Both were
equally loud in their way, and went off at a touch;
but how dumb the doctor would become if he sus-
pected that deer were within a mile of him !-for
they have wonderfully quick ears.
Arriving on the edge of the tract, we "went
in," as they expressively call it up there. It was a
heavy, lumbering drive-or, rather, drag-for
many miles, over a forest-road full of little moun-
tains and valleys of its own. Finally, however, we
reached the shore of one of the many lakes which
are strung and crowded together all through the
region, making the highways by which the hunter
finds his way into the wild home of the deer. If it
were all woods, none but a trapper could, or
would, care to go there.
No more heavy bumps and bangs now, as we
shot out in boats, as light as canoes, on the bosom
of the lake. In one of them was old Sebaltis, an
Indian guide famous in those parts, paddling the
doctor and the doctor's son, a bright little fellow
of fifteen. In another boat was Sebaltis's well-
grown, keen-eyed, half-breed son, making fast
time abreast of him, with me -Innocence, In-
experience, and Hope -at the prow.
We were savagely equipped as became the occa-
sion: each of us in a blue shirt with the worst pair
of trousers that he owned and each surmounted by


ILD N'T KEEP UP. [SEPT.

queen of the hill-garden. But when spring came
again, the old pathways were like an ash-heap.
The beautiful hill-garden was a desert.
When these great sheep bands pass over the
country, from range to range, from territory to ter-
ritory, they devour not only the vegetation of one
year, but the seeds, the roots, and, with these, the
promise of the next.
It is the migration of the Hungry and the
Thirsty; and a cry goes out against them, like the
cry of Moab, when the children of Israel camped
within its borders:
"Surely this multitude will lick up all that is
round about us."





1889.]


MY DEER-HUNTS IN


a lowering felt hat. To each of us, also, belonged
a rifle, a fishing-rod, a comb, a blanket, and a
tooth-brush. Some hard-tack, with coffee and
sugar, in a rubber bag; some tin plates and cups,
with a saucepan, made up the rest of the outfit.
We were going to wrestle with this rough world for
a living, till we came through on the other side.
The two necessary things were to find deer, and to
prevent being lost ourselves. For both these
things Sebaltis was our man.
Then came several days of trial to our faith, but
of boating as beautiful as one could have wished.
From sunrise to sunset we sped over a highway
that shone like a mirror of molten silver all the
way. So clear and placid was the water that the
vault of blue sky and cloud was perfectly reflected
below the keel, as if we were winding between two
hemispheres; and the trees and rocks of the ir-
regular shores on both sides were duplicated into
a continuous image of beauty all along. But there
was not a sign of animated nature anywhere,
excepting such small game as the mosquitoes or
midges, at the going down of the sun.
"No deer! Oh, dear!" sighed the doctor's
boy.
"Yes, where are your deer, Doctor?" said I.
I don't believe there are any."
We '11 be lucky if we see one, in a week," he
roared back.
Sebaltis kept grim silence.
By this time we had taken some upward steps in
the wilderness; that is, from one lake to another
on a higher level, around the connecting rapids of
which we had to "carry." At last came a series
known as "Long Slim Ponds." On the shore of
one of them was to be our camp for a while.
Ascending the right bank, on a little plateau
fifteen or twenty feet above the water, well embow-
ered by trees, we found evidences that mankind
had been there a ruined bark shed, open in
front and running down to the ground behind,
with signs of a last year's camp-fire before it. The
hut would just hold ourselves and our guides, lying
heads inward. Soon we had a bed of hemlock
Teathers prepared. A pile of logs was gathered
on the old ashes for a blazing fire, to be lighted as
soon as the chill of the night set in. Sebaltis and
his boy then set about making coffee.
It was a drowsy moment. We were tired and
sleepy, and so seemed the declining day. The
silver of the lake, which we could see below,
through the trees, was just taking a delicate
tinge of gold from the retreating light. Nature
seemed to be holding its breath,--it was so deathly
still. The wind had even stopped whispering to
the leaves, when, suddenly, the doctor, whom
we had missed for a moment, came bounding


THE ADIRONDACKS. 807

like mad up the bank, his big figure-arms,
legs, eyes, beard -all going at once, and yet not
a sound escaped him, not a twig snapped as he
rushed in this promiscuous way close up to us, his
eyes starting out of his flushed face, and every line
of his figure denoting excitement. He looked as
if he wished to shout, and did not dare do so. He
came as if about to break every branch in his way,
but alighted among us as noiselessly as a fairy.
"Hist! hist! he whispered excitedly, his face
by this time purple with unutterable tidings.
"What's the matter? "
"Deer! deer! he gasped. Don't speak.
Go softly. Don't step on anything, whatever
you do."
We crept to the edge of the bank, and parted
the brush carefully, to see better. There they
were, true enough, but at least a thousand feet off.
I never saw a more exquisite picture. On the
opposite shore of the lake there was a little open
space or recess among the trees, carpeted by green-
sward; a tiny glade, over which the branches of
the trees arched themselves: a sort of leafy grotto,
and in the very center, as if an artist had posed
them, stood close together a young buck and a
doe, nibbling the grass. In the slender legs which
moved so daintily over the turf was a power which
could move them as if on the wings of the wind.
Their neat little heads were lifted occasionally as
with a sense of perfect security. These were no
tame deer in a city park, nor even such as are to
be seen in private grounds abroad. These were
the wild children of the soil, instinct with flight at
the slightest alarm.
Sebaltis did not encourage;,any attempt to get
at them, where they were, and at that hour. But
little did I know what luck was at hand.
The next day the rest of the party went away
somewhere, possibly on a sly expedition wherein
the keen Indian and the big surgeon were to try their
hands on these pretty babes of the wood. The boy
Sebaltis was left with nie, and toward sundown we
thought we would take the boat and go fishing.
I had scarcely stepped aboard when he said, I
see deer and pointed to a dim brown spot, near
a woody point to the right, on the other side of the
lake, at least a mile off. Away went my rod into
the bushes, and I sought my gun. It was a double-
barreled muzzle-loader, a rifle and fowling-piece
mounted on the same stock, a very fine piece of
workmanship, but delicate enough to be danger-
ous, as I was to find out rather startlingly before I
was out of the woods.
Obeying directions, I sat in the bow, with the
gun ready for instant use. The boy behind me,
with a stroke of his paddle, shot out into the open
water, and made directly for the spot where the deer






MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.


were. He kept this course till they were distinctly
in view, whispering to me not to change my posi-
tion nor make a sound. It was not without trepi-
dation that I found him propelling the boat nearer
and nearer-so near that soon I could recognize


"THE DEER WERE UP TO THEIR KNEES IN THE LAKE AN
LITTLE SUPPER OF LILY-PADS."
my pretty friends of the evening before ; this time
up to their knees in the lake and making a cosy
little supper of lily-pads. One instant's alarm and
they would be gone. To my relief, while we sped
on toward them, I saw the boat was also sidling
into the shadow of the opposite shore, and we were


approaching them nearly from -the rear. What-
ever breeze there was, blew from them; otherwise
they would have scented us long ago. We had
not made a sound, for their hearing is as acute as
their scent. Our only hope was in their imper-
fect vision for deer are
said to be near-sighted.
By this time I was
wrought up to a high
pitch of nervous excite-
ment, for at any mo-
ment, like a Prince Rup-
ert's drop- tick they
S might vanish, and my ex-
e'd t traordinary opportunity
for glory and venison be
Lost. The buck raised
Ships head and took a long
look at us. The paddle
ceased. We were as still
and motionless as a float-
ing tree,- which he evi-
dently decided that we
were, and so resumed his
meal of lily-pads. The
doe, after a while, waded
round the point, out of
sight. I could refrain no
longer, and I was none
too soon. But oh, how
the rifle wabbled about
= in my quivering hands!
The "buck fever" was
on me. It is an ague
which often seizes even
an experienced hunter.
The instant I raised the
gun, he sprang for the
shore. The discharge
made a prodigious rever-
beration. The echoes
rolled from one end of
the lake to the other.
The bullet must have
grazed his back, for he
bent it under like a
drawn bow as he leaped,
but he was off like an
arrow.
[D WERE MAKING A COSY I was in despair. Both
had escaped me i Dis-
appointed, I dropped my left arm, which'now
held the gun, unconscious of what I was doing,
for I was looking at blank vacancy.
Take the barrel of your rifle out of the water,"
whispered the boy. Keep still and wvait."
Did he expect to see more of the deer, after such


[SEPT.






MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.


a hubbub and fright? I little dreamed what femi-
nine curiosity was equal to. In two or three seconds,
to my complete astonishment, the doe rushed back
into the lake, faced about toward us, threw up her
beautiful little head, with her ears all pricked and
fluttering, her eyes shining,- the very picture of
curiosity and surprise,- as much as to say, What
is this noise, to make my mate run away like that ?"
It was hard to do it, but I was hungry. I
raised my gun. The motion told her more than
she cared to know, and, like' her companion, she
was instantly in full leap for the shore. But my
wabbling gun sent true this time. With a loud
shout from the boy, and a stroke from the paddle,
the boat went like a bullet for the same spot.
There lay the little doe in the water, quivering in
her last agony.
We hauled her into the boat, and went back to
the camp. No one was there. But in a trice the
boy had the carcass hanging on a limb as if it were
a slaughtered sheep. Then he stripped off its hide
and dressed it, making it ready for breakfast next
morning.
Not knowing what to do with myself after all
this excitement, in the absence of the others the
guide proposed a "jack-hunt:" It was not very
dark, but my blood was up. Was there another
world to conquer?
He rigged a semicircular lantern of birch-bark
on a short pole at the prow. Inside was a bit of
candle. When it was lighted the open side was to
be turned to the front. The beautiful eyes of the
deer were counted on to play him false in a new
way. The light, suddenly flashing out, would ar-
rest his gaze, and the crouching hunter behind
would take aim at the dazed orbs. It was a fell
deed of darkness we were about to commit.
All the beasts of the forest might keep up their
nocturnal cries: the owls their hooting, the wild-
cats their crying, the bears--if there were any-
their growling, yet the deer would feel no alarm.
But the voice of man was full of danger. So his
human enemy must make no sound.
_ To a deer of any experience, what a monster
must have seemed this dark, shadowy creature,
darting suddenly and noiselessly on him over the
stillwater, sending out one flash of fascinating
light, and then a terrible thundering crack, a
streak of fire right in his face, and a whistling ball
tearing its way above his head, just failing in its
errand of death!
I fancy that it was some such experienced deer
that I met that night. Many a tedious hour had
we floated, close to the known haunts of the
creature, wherever the lily-pads grew. It was
densely, fearfully dark. Wedged in the prow,
aching and stiff, with eyes and ears intensely alert,


suddenly I heard close to me "slump, slump."
We could have touched the deer with an oar. But
he discovered us as quickly as we discovered him.
Before I could take out a match, he gave a tre-
mendous plunge and a loud snort of terror. He
must have been a monstrous fellow. He could
not have made more noise if he had been as large
as a moose. For several minutes we could hear
his deep, hoarse, terrified "champ, champ," as he
sped away into the depths of the mountain.
It was now long past midnight, the hunt was
up, and the camp a mile away. The other party
had returned. After a wondering consultation over
the venison they had found so neatly prepared for
breakfast, they had committed themselves to their
hemlock repose. The uproar made by my fright-
ened deer had awakened them. When we ap-
peared, the doctor, starting up, burst out with hys-
terical attempts at questions, to which I gave as
many disjointed answers.
When -? Where -? That deer -
Who ? spluttered he, between his. gasps.
Yes," quavered I, out of breath after my ex-
citing day, "I I--I-was going out fishing-
saw deer fired missed shot -"
Then we both gave it up with a hearty laugh.
I crawled into the dark shed soon to fall asleep
beside him, and so restore my nerves for a calmer
story in the morning.

The next time I went on a "jack-hunt," the
tables were turned. It was I who was scared,
and I made as much noise about it, in my way, as
my floundering, flying, snorting friend of that
night. It was the hideous darkness and stillness
that did it in both cases. As the buck then heard
something and jumped, so now did I.
For several hours I had been having an alto-
gether melancholy time. I was somewhere in the
middle of the long, narrow lake,- I could not tell
where- and it was somewhere in the middle of
the overcast night,- I could not tell when.
The other members of the party had taken
themselves off again, and I was alone with the In-
dian boy. Something or other had plunged me
into a most pensive mood. What was the matter
with me? My glory was not on the decline. My
luck was still in the ascendant. The envious
doctor had declared that the deer came out to
laugh at me. That was his way of saying that
they were always putting themselves in the range
of my rifle and not in line with his.
To confess the truth, I must have been getting
homesick. It was a kind of collapse on the in-
side. The first excitement was over, and as the
novelty of the trip was getting further and fur-
ther behind, so I was getting deeper and deeper


809





MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.


into this wilderness of woods and waters. The
feeling came most vividly upon me as I found my-
self alone and dumb on this- lonely lake. I was
steeped in gloom. So was the'lake. So were the
woods. We were all being gloomy together. It
was as still as it was dark. Hour after hour
passed. I sat wedged in and facing the prow,
gazing at the black water below and the black sky
above, with my-rifle across my knees. The only
sound I expected to hear was the splash of some
wading deer, when a noiseless match must be
struck and the jack lighted.
I might as well have been alone. so far as con-
cerned any sense of companionship with the boy
behind me. .I had not heard anything of him for
half the night. Not a drop had fallen from his
ever-moving paddle, not even the sound of a rip-
ple. It was a moment to hear one's own heart-
beat, and I could just catch the heart-beat also of
the terrible, trackless forest: the low stir of the
night, the trees sighing as in their sleep, the winds
softly breathing; now and then the far-off hoot of
an owl. My spirits had gone down into my boots,
and lay at the bottom of the boat, when suddenly
the boy spoke out in a startling tone:
"I think there 's somebody lost in the woods "
"Why?",
"I heard a man calling."
The hunt was up now, and so was I. Our voices
would have cleared the lake in an instant if any
deer had been lurking under its shores.
But the boy's exclamation had stirred me deeply.
My heart leaped into my mouth and my blood ran
cold. "Somebody lost in the woods !" My mind
had been on the precipice of that thought all
along, without knowing it, and now over it went,
into a horror of sympathy. I had already been
enough lost, myself, in imagination, to feel what it
must be to be lost in reality. And this person was
not on the lake, but in these dense dark woods, these
gloomy masses hemming me in on every side !
Shall I fire my rifle? said I.
"Wait," said he.
He listened a while with his quick Indian ear.
I could hear nothing but the hooting of that dis-
tant owl. The boy was still sure that he heard,
beyond, the human voice of one in distress.
"You 'd better fire."
Off went my rifle as it lay across my knees. It
spurted fire in zigzags close to the surface, tearing
apart the darkness and lighting up the water, and
its sharp crack broke through the silence and rose
into roar after roar among the hills, loud enough,
it seemed, to awaken the whole wilderness.
There was no answer. No other gun went off.
The phantom cry in the woods did not repeat
itself. Again I touched the trigger, bringing an-


other scene of thunder and lightning around the
boat. But all was still. We shouted; but only
echo answered.
We listened silently for a while, the boy mean-
time whispering low a story of three or four per-
sons who had been lost, not long before, and who,
when found, had reached a lake, ragged and all
but starved. Then we went ashore, and gladly
lighted-the camp-fire.

After this there followed a monotonous interval
of some days. There was a dearth, a famine of
deer. We were reduced to fish. But fish were
too mild a game. Our three weeks were nearly
up,; and were we to go out in this ignominious
way? Something energetic must be done. Sebal-
tis then rose to the occasion. He would take us to
another group of lakes.
We broke up our camp for the third or fourth
time, and worked our way still farther into the
wilderness. At one point we struck into the woods
on a "carry" of several miles. The men, as was
their custom at such times, turned over the broad-
bottomed boats and lifted them, keel upward, on
their heads, looking like long gray-backed turtles,
as they went on in procession before us. These
odd-looking monsters, twisting and turning among
the tree trunks for three or four miles, led our
stumbling feet over soft beds of moss, treach-
erous masses of dead leaves, and big, fallen trees,
till another lake came in sight. Then our turtles
lay over again on their backs and we went out in
their shells. We had, just before this, fallen in
with another party, who had joined us, half-starved
like ourselves on a diet of lake-trout, and equally
eager for the prey.
As we went along, we passed an island owned
by a New York gentleman. He and his adven-
turous family were spending the summer there, in
a house made of pine boards. They, too, were in
a desperate state nothing to eat but fish and
pilot-bread. Now we cast anxious looks on old
Sebaltis. But his grim, beaten, coppery face was
undisturbed and unresponsive; he made no sign
to show he heard our complaints.
By some hocus-pocus, he procured two or three
dogs, and before long we were out on the bosom
of the largest lake we had yet seen. Our little
flotilla was soon far away on the other side. The
dogs were put ashore, and so keen was the old
trapper's calculation, that it turned out that he had
dropped them in the tiny footsteps of our fleet
and wary friends of the woody mountain that rose
up just before us. We pulled away in opposite
directions and were soon several miles apart, but
close under the shore. The three other boats kept
in a bunch together, Sebaltis playing admiral of


8io


[SEPT.





MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.


the fleet, while his boy took me off to the other
station. We were a privateer.
The dogs were already baying deep and loud.
But it was to be many a weary hour before we
should hear any more than this from them. The
mountain roads of frightened deer are not very
precisely laid out, and are as long as they choose


As to ourselves, we were oppressed by the heat.
The midday sun, while it watched the dogs and
the deer, kept also a powerful and searching eye
on us all the afternoon. Stupefied and half asleep,
I lay in the stern, tired, bred, disgusted.
Wake up, privateer! Something is about to
happen.


"AS HE GAVE ONE MORE DESPERATE BOUND, I FIRED."

to make them. What a tangle those dogs were in,
and what miles and hours they ran "howling and
yelling all the way," as the doctor expressed
it afterward, and what fun the deer had in the
chase they led them! They knew very well how
to shake the dogs off when they chose. All they
had to do was to get out of sight and then break
the scent by wading through some sheet of water.


Th.- deer i, in the lake.
-__ 'Don't n,,:, 'e," ijid Se,:bati_, Junior,
quietly. To turrI my i-.-idn vould make
no rnoie.- e r-nd [here, v.ih n a hundred
r.,, '. va.; the miigiici.'e t cr.a _ire om ili uplifed
head and bran:hing horns, already knce-dLep and
wading daintily. There was no fright, no flurry,
no hurry about him He tossed his antlers jaunt-
ily. ." I '11 cool my legs a little," said he to him-
self,- and then step over to yonder bank. Those
yelping brutes must want a drink by this time.
Let them run their noses in here, while I trot away
out of sight and scent."
All the time he was enjoying these triumphant
meditations, unexpected enemies were stealing
noiselessly behind him, between him and both






MY DEER-HUNTS IN THE ADIRONDACKS.


shores of the little bay we were in. The ripples
must have reached him and caught his eye. He
turned his head and saw us. Oh, what a jump
and plunge he made I He was in the deep water
in an instant, swimming desperately away from
us, every now and then turning back an agonized
look, and then, losing his presence of mind, leap-
ing half out of the water. But the merciless boat
pursued. He was up to his neck now, and his
antlers were like a floating bush on the water.
I leveled my rifle just as he turned broadside to
us,-and how I regretted that I must shoot the
poor fellow. I could not have done so if it had
been only a question of sport. But the larder
needed venison, and I felt justified.
So the cruel deed must be done. Just as he
gave one more desperate bound to regain the dis-
tance he had lost, I fired. It was all over in the
twinkling of an eye. Yes, all over,- or under.
Where was he ? The cloud of smoke did not hide
the spot; but too plainly he was not there. It was
a total, instantaneous disappearance. The boy
looked blank.
We have lost him," said he.
How ? Where ?" I cried out, bewildered.
He 's at the bottom of the lake."
Wonderful sportsman was I! I had come so
near missing him that I had nicked his spinal
marrow, and dying instantly, he sank like a stone,.
scarcely disturbing the water.
Just at that moment a tumult in another bay
of the lake attracted our attention. Our friends
were having a lively time about two miles away.
It looked and sounded like a miniature sea-fight.
"Puff went the smoke; bang!" went a gun from
one boat. Puff, bang followed from another
boat. Puff, bang !" went the third. A thick cloud
of smoke enveloped them. Three or four more
"bangs! were heard. It turned out that a deer
had come plunging in at that point also, but
Sebaltis had not kept his forces in hand; his
fleet, already excited by my firing, was thrown into
confusion. But what could stand such a concen-
trated fire, even if some shots went -wild? The poor
beast succumbed, and the boats set out toward us.
All in good time my own deer came to the sur-
face, and with difficulty we got him into the boat.
I saved his antlers, and kept them many a long year.
My closing adventure with deer was a piece of
shameful impertinence on their part. What the
doctor had derisively said, did actually come to
pass. They came out and laughed at me. I was
poking about somewhere, with no particular pur-
pose, when I came suddenly upon four or five of


them. They were young and inexperienced, or
they would have known better, and at least shown
me proper respect. I had invaded their play-
ground, while they were having a game among
themselves. It must have been because I was in-
different about making game of them, or was
astonished at their stopping to make game of me,
but I fired among them without aiming at any one.
What did they do? Run? Not a bit of it. They
turned about with a wriggle,--if they had been
human it would have been a giggle,- then kicked
up their hind legs in a rollicking way, shook their
little stumpy tails aloft like so many sportive
sheep, and went in among the trees.
That was mortifying.
licould not get over it until I did another most
astonishing bit of shooting with my complicated
gun, which put it out of my mind. I came within
an ace of ending the hunt by bringing down myself,
As we were approaching the Saranacs, on the
way out, a tremendous storm came up which lasted
several days. We were bundled up in our boats,
under blankets and tarpaulins. As we were wind-
ing our tortuous way on one of the connecting
streams, we reached a good landing-place and
proposed to go ashore. The doctor had mounted
the bank and looked down upon me. I was in
the boat. I made a slight motion to uncoil myself,
when bang went my rifle. Its muzzle was close
to my hip, as it lay lengthwise in the side of the
boat. The delicate hammer must have been so
caught in a crease of the rubber cloth that the
movement was enough to let it down on the cap.
Then the famous Demonstrator of Anatomy
began to dance on the bank in fearful excitement.
"Are you hurt? Are you hurt ?"
"No," said I, I believe not." But I took care
to get quickly out of the way of the other barrel.
After this, the rifle, thoroughly disgusted at my
carelessness, refused to go off at all, or even to be
loaded. The storm had cleared, and we were
making good time along one of the Saranacs,
when I espied an eagle the American eagle !-
sitting on the dead limb of a tree, within fifty
yards apparently, looking down composedly at
me. The national bird did not give himself the
slightest concern over my presence. He saw me
tugging at the ramrod, but he knew as soon as I
did that it would not come out. Dampness had
swollen it, and I had to pass on below his aqui-
line nose as beneath his contempt. I had had my
stars, and now had come my stripes!
These three discomfitures made a sad ending
to an otherwise glorious career.












A LITTLE FLORENTINE LADY.


BY ELEANOR C. LEWIS.


BEATRICE PORTINARI. (FROM PHOTOGRAPH OF HER PORTRAIT IN FLORENCE.)


IN Florence, in the year 1265, was born the lady Beatrice were both loved with a reverent
true patriot and mighty poet Dante. He could be passion the echoes of which still vibrate.
mediocre in nothing, neither in thought, feeling, The children lived near each other, and first
nor action; therefore his city of Florence and his met at an entertainment given by the little girl's






A LITTLE FLORENTINE LADY.


father, to which Dante, with his parents, was in- Beatrice toward whom his rapt gaze is directed.
vited. How he looked at this time may be seen in She is not there, alas But how she would look if
the exquisite statue by Civiletti, a Palermitan she were there, we learn from Dante himself.
She appeared to me," he
says, about the beginning of
her ninth year, and I beheld
her about the end of mine.
Her apparel was of most noble
color --a subdued and becom-
ing crimson; and she wore a
cincture and ornaments befit-
ting her childish years." So
elegant was her appearance,
indeed, and so great her youth-
ful charm, that he could find
no words to address her,-he
could only follow her with his
eyes.
"She was a pretty little
thing in her girlish way," says
an Italian writer, very ladylike
and pleasing in her actions, and
much more sedate in her man-
ners and modest in her words
than her years promised. Be-
sides this, she had very delicate
features, admirably propor-
tioned, and full--in addition to
their beauty of such dignity
and charm that she was looked
upon by many as a little angel."
Such as she was, she filled,
then and forever, the great
heart of Dante.
His second glimpse of "this
youngest of the angels" was
one day when he met her upon
the street "arrayed in purest
white," walking with two older
ladies. She bowed to him, and
this token of recognition was
enough to make him very
happy. After she had passed,
he separated from his friends
and hurried home,- to live
over the scene in the solitude
of his room.
When Beatrice was about
twenty, she married Simone
de' Bardi, and not long after
this event her father--the
kindly Folco died. Dante
did not see her at the time,
THE YOUTHFUL DANTE. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE STATUE BY CIVILETTI.) but in one of his writings he
sculptor. Beautiful in the illustration, it is even depicts her great grief, as it was described by
more so in the original; and we involuntarily lift friends to him,--his own sympathy with her
our eyes from the young lover to gaze also at the bereavement, and the sudden, piercing terror


814


[SEPT.






A LITTLE FLORENTINE LADY.


wrought upon him by the thought,-"Bea-
trice herself may die "
And even so-all too soon-it hap-
pened. One day he sat writing a poem to
her, a poem full of her praise, and of wonder
at her perfection. But all at once, says Mrs.
Oliphant, the strain breaks off like a
snapped thread, and a solemn line of Latin,
abrupt and sorrowful, strikes across the
fantastic sweetness of the mood, hushing
alike the love and,the song: uomodo
sedet sola civitas plena populo Facta est
quasi vidua, domina gentium! ('How doth
the city sit solitary that was full of people !
How is she become a widow,- she that was
great among the nations !')"
On the 9th of June, 1290, when only
twenty-four years old, Beatrice "was made
of the citizens of eternal life "; while for
more than thirty years her poet worshiper
survived,- to honor her in deed and word,
and to illuminate with her memory the stern
pages of his "Divina Commedia."
There are various portraits of Dante, but
the pleasantest is the youthful likeness
painted by Giotto on the chapel wall of the
palace now called the Bargello, in Florence.
Just so, we may fancy, he looked to Beatrice.
For many years this painting was lost to
sight, hidden under a coating of whitewash;
and when, finally, the latter was removed, (FRI
a break appeared where the eye should
have beamed. Probably the same vandals who de-
faced the painted wall, in this place had driven
a nail. For a few weeks the rediscovered treas-
ure remained as it had been found. Then, un-
fortunately, another vandal, in the shape of a
"restorer," took it in hand; and under his trans-
forming fingers, the severely beautiful youth of
Giotto became a rigid young Florentine,-as the
picture here represents him.
There are later busts and portraits, and also a
cast of his dead face; but they are sad and grim,-
-a whole life's journey removed from the enthu-
siastic boyhood of Beatrice's lover.


GIOTTO'S PORTRAIT OF DANTE.
OM THE TRACING BY SEYMOUR KIRKUP, ESQ. BY PERMISSION
OF THE ARUNDEL SOCIETY.)
As to Beatrice,- can this prim, precocious little
miss, shown in the portrait on page 813, who has
the air of saying diligently, "prunes and prisms,"
be the half angelic maiden of Dante's adoration?
Can it be that little Dante never saw her as she
really looked ? It certainly seems more likely that
the Flemish artist has invested her portrait with
some of his own national stiffness. If we imagine
the lips curved upward, instead of so sourly droop-
ing, the expression softly serious, instead of cross,
why then, I think, we shall have no unfair idea
of the nine-year-old Beatrice,- the radiant little
Bice whom Dante loved.


1889.]




























(C' *,-i.:cl seily Ut-arus)


"MAMMA, please tell us a story! cried all the
young dragons.
"Children, do be less noisy said their father,
the Honorable Samuel P. Dragon. He had slain
a knight that very evenifig and was perhaps a little
irritable. Young dragons should be thoughtful,
and should never disturb their parents after the
night's fighting is over.
Hush, children said Mrs. Dragon. "Your
father has to fight hard all night, and in the day he
needs his rest. I will tell you one nice story, if
you will promise to go quietly to bed afterward."
The youngsters coiled down into comfortable
hollows in the rock, and Mrs. Dragon prepared to
begin her story.
I suppose you would prefer a man-story? "
'Please, Mamma. We are so tired of 'When
I was a little dragon.' Tell us a real man-story;
but be sure not to have the dragon hurt. We like
it to end happily, Mamma."
Very well. Listen quietly, now. Don't rustle
your wings nor flop your tails Sammy! stop
blowing flames into your sister's face, this mo-
ment! or not a word shall you hear.
"There was once a most delightful land, full
of bogs and moist-smelling marshes, of dark rocky
caves, all damp and cold. The lakes were covered
with beautiful green mold, no flowers grew in the
fields- nothing but cool rushes, ferns, and mosses.
In short, it was a land in which any dragon might
be glad to crawl: no sunshine to crinkle the scales
or dry up the wings, no bright glaring fields to daz-
zle one's poor eyes. Why, even at midday one
could slide comfortably about on the slippery,


slimy banks and never catch a blink of a sunbeam
,on the water."
Oh, how nice Really and truly, Mamma? "
asked the small dragons, laughing with so much
delight that the flames from their pretty scarlet
throats lighted up the cave until Mr. Dragon
stirred uneasily in his dreams; for he had fallen
asleep.
"Really and truly," their mother went on, in
a lower tone. "In this charming country, your
father and I began our cave-keeping. We were
very happy for a time, for not too far from us was
your father's estate,- a fertile valley well stocked
with plump and well-flavored inhabitants. You
have never seen any whole men, have you ? "
"No," they replied eagerly. What are they
like?"
Oh, so ugly. To begin with, they have no
scales, no wings, no claws-"
"No wings and no claws? How frightful they
must be exclaimed young Samuel Dragon, Jr.,
proudly expanding his green pinions.
"Not-a wing!" replied Mrs. Dragon. "And
they walk, when mature, exclusively on their hind
legs."
Why is that?" asked the children.
"I can not tell. It does seem absurd. When
young they go on all-fours like sensible animals,
but the elders pull and persuade, teach and coax,
until the poor little things rear up on their hind
legs, and then the foolish old ones seem satisfied.
Men are very queer. When they first came on
this earth,-.this earth where dragons dwell,- they
lived, properly enough, in caves like the rest of the
16






THE DRAGON'S STORY. 817
world. But they are a stupid and restless kind of Well, dears, it did not last long. Your father
creatures, and soon began to tear pieces out of the was young, rash, and brave, in those nights. One
world to make caves to suit themselves. Now they dawn he said, Really, Scalena, this will not do.
slaughter trees, slice and split them, fasten the I can stand this foolishness no longer !' I.asked
pieces together, and stalk in and out of queer whathe intended, but he waved his tail in a threat-
little holes called 'doors.' But I can not spare ening way, and smiled knowingly as he whetted
time to tell you any more about their curious in- his claws on a new piece of sandstone. The next
stincts--you must read it for yourselves some day night, bidding me not to be anxious, he left me.
in the 'Dragon's Economical Cave-keeper,' the I looked after him as long as I could see the flames
marketing manual. Look in the index under 'An- in the sky, and then returned
imal Foods: Apes, Men, and various Bipeds.' wearily to our cave to pick
You will find it interesting-and useful too. the last bone .
"As I said, we were happy for a time. We "The next morning, just
used to stroll out quietly in the evening, and often at dawn, he returned with a
managed to secure a nice chubby man or two, in an delicious marketing,-he said
hour's flight. But at length came an age when it was a butcher, I think,
those mean creatures decided to revolt. That is, though it may have been a
they kept in their little caves at night, and com- judge, the flavor is much
pelled us to go out so frequently in the unhealth- the same. Then, when we
ful, glaring daylight, that our scales were hardly had retired into the darkest,
fit to be seen. Even with all this exposure, we dampest, cosiest corner of the cave, he told me
would succeed in catching only some of the little very modestly the story of his great achievement.
ones--indeed during a whole month I caught Your brave father, children, had been down to
nothing but two thin miserable specimens. Think where the whole swarm of men lived, and actually
how your poor mother suffered! I was almost had beaten to pieces one of the wooden caves!
starved. I became so thin that I rattled! He made light of his exploit, and only rejoiced in
Mrs. Dragon looked at the young audience, and it because, as he said, he had no fear now of famine
saw that the eyes of the two smallest were really or even of scarcity. We sat up late that happy
morning, enjoyed a delicious supper, and slept
soundly until nightfall.
S"We arose with the moon, and after a hasty
but effective toilet on his new sandstone, your
father advanced glidingly toward the mouth of the
Scave, when suddenly there presented itself a dark
object with a shiny coat, much like that of a
dragon. Indeed, we thought for a moment it was
some neighbor who had dropped in to breakfast.
But in a few seconds we saw that it was what
is called a knight. A knight, chil-
dren, is an animal which, though
Edible, is noxious, and sometimes
dangerous to young or careless
dragons. I have heard of such being
even killed by this spiteful little pest.
They are found among men-in
fact, they are a species of men that
has a hard shell. You know there
S---~ are hard-shell crabs and soft-shell
crabs, and so, likewise, there are
hard and soft shelled men. Our
visitor was a hard-shell who had,
while prowling about, found our cave
either by accident or willfully.
I do not deny that I was a trifle
shedding sparks. She was touched by their sym- anxious; but your father was merely angry. Giving
pathy, but, fearing the story was becoming too sad, a great roar, he blew out a mass of dark smoke and
hastened to brighten it. scarlet flames at the unfortunate little knight.
VOL. XVI.-52.






THE DRAGON'S STORY.


But, though small, the knight was plucky and
showed fight. As your father carelessly leaped to-
ward him, the knight scratched dear Papa slightly
with a-long, hard stick, on the end of which was a
bit of very hard shell. Then the knight rode out
-for he had enslaved an unfortunate horse, as
these cruel men do, my pets, and by means of a


"THERE WAS NO DOUBT OF THE RESI
contrivance in its mouth, he made it carry him
about wherever he chose.
Your father eagerly followed, though I sought
in vain to restrain him. 'No, Scalena,' said he.
'This is a question of principle As a true dragon
and your loving mate, it is my duty to destroy this
dangerous little fellow. Do not be foolish; I will
bring you the body of the fierce creature. They
are excellent eating. But you must sharpen your
claws, my dear, for the shells are exceedingly hard
to remove and most difficult of digestion.'


I obeyed him, for your father is always right,
and out he flew with a rush of smoke and flame."
"Oh, Mother, and was Father killed?" asked
one of the youngest little Tommy Dragon.
Of course not!" replied his elder brother,
scornfully. "Don't you see him sleeping over
there, all safe and sound? Don't be so silly "
"You must not speak
so sharply to your little
brother!" said Mrs.
Dragon, "or I shall end
the story at once! "
"Oh, please go on,"
exclaimed all the young
dragons; "it is just the
most interesting part!"
Pleased with their eager-
ness, she resumed:
I did not see the hunt,
but your father has often
described it to me. The
knight came wickedly at
Shim, hoping to scratch him
7 with the sharp stick; but
F with one whisk of his long
green tail, your father
broke the thing into small
pieces! So you see, Sam,"
said this thoughtful par-
ent, turning slyly to her
eldest son, "it is most im-
portant to practice your
tail-whisking and I hope
Syou will not forget it when
you go to your next lesson."
Sammy Dragon turned
o saffron with confusion, but
it was evident that he re-
solved to profit by the lit-
tle moral so ingeniously
woven, by careful Mrs.
Dragon, into a mere man-
story.
"After the stick was
broken," she went on,
JUIT the vicious little knight
snatched out another, made entirely of the hard
shell with which the first was only tipped. With
this he tried his worst to break some of your father's
lovely scales. Think what a ferocious animal this
knight must have been I can not see what they
are made for; but then, it is instinct, perhaps, we
must not judge him too harshly.
"This new weapon met the fate of the other.
It was crunched up by your father's strong teeth,
and then he descended upon the little hard-Shell
man with a great swoop and that ended the bat-


818


[SEPT.





THE DRAGON'S STORY.


tie Your father is a modest dragon, but he was
really proud of the swiftness with which he ended
that conflict. After he once had a fair oppor-
tunity to use his newly sharpened claws, there was
no doubt of the result!
"We ate the knight at our next meal. I was
glad to welcome your father; but he said, Pooh !
nonsense!' and made light of the whole matter."
The young dragons were delighted, and even
thought of asking for another story; but their
mother, for the first time, noticed that it was
almost broad daylight.
"But goodness, children, I hear the horrid
little birds singing!" said she. "Run away to
bed with you. Wrap yourselves up tight in your
moist wings, and be sure to sleep on damp rocks
in a draught where you will keep good and cold."
The youngsters crawled away to rest, while Mrs.
Dragon went to rouse the Honorable Samuel P.


Dragon. To her surprise she saw his great green
eyes glowing with a sulphurous satisfaction.
"There are no times like the old times said
he, drowsily. That was really a splendid hunt!"
Yes, dear," replied his mate, with a proud and
happy smile; "but I had no ideayou were listen-
ing to my foolish stories. We must now go to rest,
or you won't be up till midnight- and then there
won't be a single man about. Remember, 'it is
the late dragon that catches the knight.'"
The Honorable Samuel P. Dragon rubbed his
claws gently together as he selected a nice cosy
place for the day. He was humming to himself,
and faithful Mrs. Dragon smiled fondly as she
recognized the tune. It was:
"I fear no foe in shining armor "
"Ah said she to herself, the old people like
man-stories as well as the little ones "


THE SOUTH WIND.

BY CHARLES B. GOING.


OVER the fields, where the dew was wet,
Over a meadow with daisies set,
Shaking the pearls in the spider's net,
The soft south wind came stealing.
It was full of the scent of the sweet wild rose;
And it lingered along, where the streamlet flows,
Till it made the forget-me-nots' eyes unclose,
And started the blue-bells pealing.



Under the measureless blue of the sky,
Drifting the silvery cloudlets by,
Drinking the dew-brimmed flower-cups dry,
The warm south wind was blowing.
It was sweet with the breath of a thousand springs;
And it sang to the grasses, as ever it sings,
With a sound like the moving of myriad wings,
Or the whisper of wild flowers growing.


Over the fields, in the evening glow,
Stirring the trees, as the sun sank low,
Swaying the meadow-grass to and fro,
A breeze from the south came creeping.
It rocked the birds in their drowsy nest;
It cradled the blue-eyed grass to rest;
And its good-night kisses were softly pressed
On pale wild roses sleeping.

And only the stars and the fireflies knew
How the south wind murmured, the whole night
through,
In scented fields, where the clover grew
And soft white mists were wreathing.
For it stole away, when the night was spent,
And none could follow the way it went;
But the wild flowers knew what the wind's song
meant,
As they waked to its last low breathing.


819


~g~t~BL~s~


~t"~ji~~











A DAY AMONG THE BLACKBERRIES.


BY FANNIE W. MARSHALL.


JIM'S grandmother was a firm believer in the
somewhat old-fashioned notion that everyboywas in
the world for the sole and express purpose of being
made useful; and so, when Jim mentioned at the
supper-table that he had seen that afternoon a
field "cram full of blackberries," about two miles
distant, his grandmother saw in the fact a provi-
dential opening for replenishing her stock of black-
-berry-jam, which was almost exhausted, and at the
same time for keeping her active grandson out of
mischief for an entire day. She promptly seized
the opportunity, and suggested that Jim should
start early the next morning, carrying his dinner,
and spend the day in the berry pasture. Jim's face
began to lengthen at the beginning of his grand-
mother's remarks, but at the mention of "dinner"
it was shortened again by a very broad grin
which overspread his face, for he knew by experi-
ence that a cold dinner prepared by his grand-
mother was a thing to delight the heart of a hungry
boy. The expedition at once assumed the air of a
picnic, and supper was scarcely over when he was
out of the house in search of his two special chums,
Sammy Clark and Tom Perkins, to engage them
to become his companions.
The bright July morning of the following day
found the three boys trudging along the country
road while the dew still sparkled on the grass and
clover by the wayside. Across the fields came the
fresh scents of early day, and, though boys are not
generally supposed to be particularly susceptible
to the charms of nature, a feeling of the beauty
about them seemed to filter into their little beings
in some way, for Jim said, taking a long draught
of the sweet air, "I say, fellows, is n't this fine ? "
Jim was eleven and his companions ten and twelve,
but they always addressed each other as "fel-
lows,"-boys being quite too lowly a term to apply
to persons of their size and experience.
With the single remark just quoted, they dis-
missed the usually prolific topic of the weather and
sauntered on slowly, swinging their large, bright
pails and chattering away about the new dog that
Tom's uncle had promised him, which was reputed
to possess many canine accomplishments.
From that subject their thoughts naturally turned
to the circus which was coming to town the next
week, and as they happened to be passing a soft bit
of turf at that moment, they called a halt while


they attempted, with rather discouraging results,
to emulate the feats of dexterity set forth on the
gayly colored posters announcing the show, with
which the town was extensively decorated. Failure
at last convincing them that they could not, without
more practice than they had been able to devote to
the enterprise, successfully compete with the con-
tortions of Signor Giuseppe Francatelli, they loi-
tered on their way again, planning how they should
spend the money gained by their day's work, for
they had been promised two cents a quart for all
the berries they should bring home.
With this and various other themes they reached
the scene of their labors, and then a knotty point
presented itself:--Should they start from the road
and pick toward the back of the field, or, should
they go to the end of the field, where it bordered
the woods, and work toward the road?
All three sat themselves down on the stone wall to
discuss the matter; not that it made any particular
difference where they should commence their devas-
tating labors, but from a lingering disinclination to
"begin." It certainly was very pleasant to sit in the
shade of the leafy roadside maple, for the morning
had grown warm and the blackberry-field did not
look altogether inviting, lying unsheltered under the
hot sun.
At this point Dan, an underbred-looking dog
belonging to Sammy, that had enlivened the
affair with his presence, started some small four-
footed creature from its cover, and, forgetful of
heat, berries, grandmothers,--everything but the
chase, the three boys followed Dan as fast as
their young legs could carry them. After an
exciting run, they came up with the dog. He
was dashing excitedly about a heap of stones
into which his expected prey had disappeared,
and giving short barks of anxiety lest he had
lost his game.
The most skillful and diligent prodding by the
boys among the stones, failed to induce the terri-
fied little animal to come forth and be devoured
for their edification; and after an hour of vain en-
deavor, with frequent exclamations of "There he
comes (which he never did, as he was by that
time snugly tucked away in his ,home under-
ground) they finally gave up the attempt to dis-
lodge him and toiled slowly back to the'spot
where the berry-pails had been abandoned, sud-






A DAY AMONG THE BLACKBERRIES.


denly becoming aware that it was a long walk,
and also that it really was a very warm day.
Arrived under the maple-tree again, they acted
upon Tom's suggestion that they should sit down
and "cool off" before "pitching in again,"--
though why again they might have found diffi-
cult to explain if they had looked into their empty
pails.
At last there seemed no longer any reasonable
excuse for delaying the business of the day, and
the three comrades clambered over the wall and
began to walk slowly toward the farther end of the
field, picking as they went.
Either Jim had been deceived in the richness of
the field, or some industrious pickers had been
there before them, for the end of a half hour found
them in the shade of the woods at the other side
of the pasture with perhaps two quarts of berries
among them. Suddenly Jim was struck by a
thought-"Look here, fellows, is n't Bates's
Pond round here somewhere ? Grandfather showed
it to me one day last summer, when we were com-
ing 'cross lots.'" None of the boys knew just
where the pond was, but it was clearly their duty
to inform themselves as to the exact whereabouts
of an object of such interest within only two miles
of home.
They quickly scaled the low wall that skirted
the woods, and a short walk brought them to a
little clearing. There, sure enough, lay a small
pond glinting in the sunlight, its pebbly margin
overhung by bushes and tall trees,-just the spot
to delight the heart of an idle urchin. Our boys
would have been more than human could they
have resisted the coaxing ripples that lapped softly
against the bank, as the faint breeze ruffled the
water here and there; then, too, the pails had been
left behind and could not, therefore, act as shining
reminders of the duties the boys were neglecting.
In an incredibly short space of time three small
suits of clothes and six dusty, stub-toed shoes
were lying on the grass, and three heads were
bobbing about in the water as their respective
owners splashed and floated, dived and re-ap-
peared, in a state of perfect enjoyment. After
what seemed to them an unreasonably brief swim,
they emerged with dripping locks, and by the
aid of two pocket-handkerchiefs, which a careful
search brought to light, they were enabled to dry,
and to clothe themselves once more, although an
occasional Ow from one or the other announced
that a rill of water had parted company with a lock
of hair and, obedient to the great law of gravita-
tion, was slowly traveling earthward by way of the
spinal-column of the speaker.
When the boys climbed back into the field more
than an hour had elapsed, although they were in


blissful ignorance of the fact. Jim and Sam,
however, readily acquiesced with Tom in thinking
that "a fellow gets awful hungry, goin' in swim-
min'," and Jim accordingly proposed that they
have a sandwich apiece before resuming their ar-
duous labors. This being agreed to, they made
their way back to the pond, as offering the most
inviting spot in which to refresh themselves.
An examination of the dinner-basket revealed
such a tempting collection of good things, that one
sandwich was followed by another, and that by
some cold chicken, and that by some doughnuts,
and those by some gingerbread and cheese, and
that by some gooseberry-pie, and that would
probably have been followed by something else if
it had not been that there was nothing more to
follow. As it was, they agreed that just a few
blackberries "to top off with" would be a satis-
factory conclusion to the meal. Tom was dis-
patched for the three pails, while Jim and Sammy
amused themselves by skipping stones across the
water.
A sudden crash and an exclamation from the re-
turning Tom announced an accident, and, follow-
ing the sound, they found him picking himself
up from the ground, still clutching the handles of
the pails, but with the berries,- alas scattered
abroad. The combined efforts of the three could
recover only about half of the original store, and,
as it really was not worth while to keep so few,
they ate these as the best way of disposing of
them.
Very few of us, I think you will find, are really
energetic after a hearty meal indeed, physicians
tell us that nature always calls for rest at such a
time. Shall we, then, blame our boys if they
yielded to this instinct for repose? Sammy and
Tom propped themselves lazily on their elbows,
comparing jack-knives with a view to "swap-
ping "; Dan, at a little distance, was crunching the
last of the chicken bones, and Jim lay on his back
at full length, with his hands clasped under
his head, in a deliciously dozy state, watching
through the interlacing branches above him the
few white clouds as they sailed slowly by high
in air.
At length Tom and Sammy, having satisfac-
torily settled the jack-knife trade, followed Jim's
example and, after a few remarks at long intervals,
silence fell upon the group. All nature about
them seemed to be breathing a lullaby, in which the
soft whirring of insects, the occasional call of a bird,
or the clang of a far-off cow-bell, the lapping of
the water and the faint rustling of the leaves above
them, made a drowsy melody that might have
soothed a careworn brain to rest. What wonder,
then, that our boys yielded to the spell and dozed






A DAY AMONG THE BLACKBERRIES.


and slept in sublime forgetfulness of the fact that
their respective families supposed them to be toil-
ing among the blackberry briers.
A half hour an hour, flew by before Jim opened
his eyes lazily and with a tremendous yawn and
various contortions of his body called out, I
guess we 'd better get to work, fellows; I shall be
going to sleep if I stay here much longer." His
voice recalled his companions to temporal things,
but, curious to relate, not one of those three boys
suspected that he had been asleep.
"Don't I feel just lazy though," said Tom,
yawning. I should n't be s'prised if another
swim would freshen us up and make us work
enough smarter to pay."
"I should n't wonder if it would," said Sam,
reflectively, slowly chewing a long spear of grass.
"We only need go in for a minute or two,"
added Jim.
This unanimity of opinion could have but one
result; and the bobbing about, the splashing,
floating, and diving of the morning was repeated.
It was rather unfortunate that Jim, in putting
away his handkerchief after it had again done duty
in its new capacity, should have found in his
pocket a small fish-hook, while Sam brought to
light, from a similar hiding-place, a fragment of
twine; for it certainly was not to be expected that
the conjunction of a hook, a line, a wood full of
poles, and a pond could be disregarded by our
young friends. That nothing might be wanting, a
plump grasshopper came whirring by just as the
hook was ready for his reception, and, in a moment
more, he was being skipped gayly over the water,
impelled by Jim's rather unskillful hand, with the
idea of deluding any fish that might be watching
his gambols into the belief that he was practicing
a few fancy hops for his own amusement.
All of my readers who are, or have been, boys,
know how absorbing the occupation of fishing can
become, even if there is only one pole to three
fishers and each is obliged to wait his turn to in-
dulge personally in the sport. A dozen "shiners"
were swimming about in one of the berry-pails,


which had been filled with water to receive them,
when Tom's attention was attracted by some field-
hands coming toward them, carrying their dinner-
pails. What are they stopping work for at this
time o' day, I wonder ? he said, and as they passed
he casually inquired the hour.
Well, I guess 't ain't fur from half-past five,"
was the reply.
Half-past five The boys gazed at one another
in open-mouthed dismay. Two miles from home,
supper in half an hour, three empty pails and
three expectant families awaiting their arrival!
It was a trying moment. Sam and Tom looked
at Jim with the faint hope that he would suggest
some way out of the difficulty, but poor Jim was as
powerless to bring back the wasted hours as many
a greater than he, with far greater need of them,
has been. He seemed plunged in a fit of deep
abstraction for a few moments and then said
gloomily, I s'pose we're in for it; it 's too late to
try to pick the berries now. Let's have another
swim It'll be just so bad anyway, and't ain't likely
we '11 get here again this summer."
At half-past seven o'clock, three boys with three
large, empty pails (for the fish had been left be-
hind) came slinking into the village and sadly sep-
arated where three streets met. I will not cast a
gloom over my readers by a circumstantial account
of what befell two of the boys, but will only say that
Jim spent the following day in the old attic, a sol-
itary prisoner upon bread and water, except when
his grandfather, who had once been a boy himself,
and had not quite forgotten the peculiar temp-
tations which assail the species, came softly upstairs,
unbolted the door, and, cautiously entering, drew a
handful of cookies from, his pocket and sat by, re-
garding Jim sympathetically, while the hungry
prisoner ate them, until the whistle from the big
shop called him back to his work and Jim was left
to his own reflections once more.
All this happened twenty-five years ago, and Jim
told me the other day that, all things considered,
he was n't sure that he was very sorry he did n't
pick that pail of blackberries.


I I


822


:~ ~c~s
~4 -

~I~=

`"~";~'

Ir!







THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.


















,g
















F--H G
IIH LS COE OE GINI












W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


BY THOMAS A. JANVIER.


WHEN Billy Jenks's father failed, and Billy had
to leave school, all in a whiff, most of us were
mighty sorry to have him go. He was a queer
little chap, but he was good all the way through.
:Somehow, he always was coming out in a square
sort of way from the tight places where other
boys went crooked. Most of the fellows thought
very highly of him. I know I did.
My father told me all about Mr. Jenks's failure,
for he knew that I would be interested in it on
Billy's account. Mr. Jenks had indorsed notes
for somebody, and this other man had failed and
had carried Mr. Jeink don with him. I could n't
quite understand the whole thing, but it seemed
that, if he had tried to, Mr. Jenks might have
got out of paying an;, thing at all; but he did n't
try to. He was "behai-ng nobly," my father
said: making ready to turn over everything to his
creditors and to go and live in a little house that
belonged to his wife, over in the shabby end of the
town--a house that his wife had bought for her
old nurse to live in, and that happened to be
empty because the old nurse had just died.
My father and all the rest of the creditors-ex-
cept old Mr. Skimmington-hoped to arrange mat-
ters so that Mr. Jenks could go on. He was in an
excellent business, my father said, and if he had
an opportunity he would be all straight again in no
time. Mr. Skimmington was a queer old fellow:
just as cranky and cross-grained as he could pos-
sibly be. He was very rich, but he kept on work-
ing as hard as ever,; and that was very hard indeed.
Whenever anybody asked him why he did not re-
tire from business and enjoy himself,- and people
who did not know him very well used to ask him
this, now and then,-he would draw himself up and
say, "Enjoy myself? I am enjoying myself, sir! I
began to work when I was nine years old, sir; and
I have been working ever since. For more than
sixty years I have been a useful citizen; and to be
useful is my idea of enjoyment. I hate a drone-
and either you are a drone or you would be one if
you could. Good-day, sir! And then the old
fellow would stalk away as stiff as a poker. I
never met anybody who liked him much.
,Unluckily, it was Mr. Skimmington who held
most of Mr. Jenks's notes; and Mr. Skimmington


refused point-blank to join the other creditors in
giving Mr. Jenks more time.
"No, sir," he said; "it shall not be done.
Jenks has been fool enough to put his name to
paper, and he must take the consequences! It
will teach him a valuable lesson, sir,-a lesson
that will do him good as long as he lives. It did
me good, and I know what I 'm talking about. I
put my name to paper in '5.-- anrd do'in I went!
Did anybody give .:, an extension? Not a bit of
it!: I had to tight my nay up again; and that
fight made a man of me, sir. Jenks is a )oung
fellow still, and this iill be a very useful experi-
ence for him. Let imn: fight his way up. just as
I did. I repeat, sir, it will do him good. Nor.
another word! My mind is made up: into bank-
ruptcy he goes, just as sure as my name is Jere-
miah Skimmington!" .
But Mr. Jenks did not go into bankruptcy-and
what kept him our of it was Billy.

Billy told me that when he got home from
school, and found hat a mess things were in. he fe It
as ifhe 'd like to sit do~ n and cry. But it struck
him that crying would do no good; so he set him-
self to thinking about what he could do to help
his father and mother in their trouble. He thought
away as hard as ever he could think for about
two days, without hitting on anything- for he was
only ten years old, and little for his age, so that
it was not easy to find a way in which he could be
really useful. They were still living in their hand-
some house, and Billy still had his donkey and
donkey-cart; and to help his thinking-for the
donkey-cart had no springs and he believed that
joggling might shake up his ideas-he drove about
most of the time.
On the third day after he got home, he happened
to be driving along by the New Row. He was
very low in his mind, and was not paying atten-
tion to anything in particular, and it gave him
a start when he found that somebody was calling
him. He pulled Jennyup short, and looked around;
and there on the high sidewalk-- for the road had
been cut down along the New Row--he saw a.
nice-looking old lady who wore spectacles,'and
who carried a big traveling-bag by her side, and a






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


little bag in her hand, and a bundle under her
arm. She looked hot and tired and flustered.
Oh, little boy," the old lady said, I have
called to you several times. I have such a load to
carry that I know I never can get to the station in
time for the train. Will you please carry my bag
down in your donkey-cart ? I '11 go down by the
short cut and meet you; and I '11 gladly give you
a quarter."
Of course Billy said that he would be very glad
indeed to oblige her; and he put the big bag and


it would pay an enterprising man well to start one,
I 'm sure. And now, here comes my train. Good-
bye,- I shall not soon forget my little express-
man, I can tell you! You certainly are a very
well-behaved boy,-for a boy. Good-bye, again."
Then the old lady got into the car and the train
started.
It was while Billy was driving home that he
suddenly woke up to the fact that the nice old lady
had shown him a way in which he could help his
father. He would be an express-man,--that is to


BILLY INTERVIEWS MR. WILKINSON. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


the ,-little one, too, in the cart, and chirped up
Jenny, and whisked off to the station in no time.
Presently the old lady came; and then he hitched
Jenny and helped the old lady to check the big
bag and tried to make things generally comfort-
able for her. Of course, he would n't take the
quarter that she offered him; and when she found
that he was really in earnest, she thanked him
very gratefully and put the money away.
"I 'm very much obliged to you, indeed, my
dear," she said, "for if you had n't helped me so
kindly, I certainly should have missed my train."
And then she added, "How stupid it is that in a
town of this size there should not be,any express;


say, an express-boy,-in dead earnest! He had
often heard other people complain about the diffi-
culty of getting luggage to and from the station,
and he was sure that the old lady was right in say-
ing that an express-service would pay. What
pleased him most of all,' was the thought that here
he was, all ready to go into the business--for the
donkey-cart would make a very good express-wagon
to begin with; and both the donkey-cart and the
donkey were his own.
But when he went home, he found himself
brought up with a rouid turn. His father told
him to come into the library. Mr. Jenks seemed
very solemn about it; and when Billy went in he


825






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


found his mother there, and she looked as if she
had been crying; but she seemed to be as cheer-
ful as a cricket. Then Mr. Jenks: told Billy that
he was very sorry, but that in a few days nearly
everything about the house was to be sold, and that
Jenny and the donkey-cart would have to be sold
with the rest !
Billy told me afterward that when his father said
that, he felt just as if somebody had tripped his
heels from under him and let him down with a
bang. It only upset him still more, when his
mother put her arms around him and kissed him,
and told him not to mind the loss of Jenny, but to
be her brave boy and take a share in the family
troubles without complaining.
He was not prepared to say, just then, that what
was bothering him was not the loss of Jenny, but
the loss of his express-business,- for he felt in his
bones, somehow, that his father and mother would
not like to have him to go to work for them, and
he hoped that if only he could get the business
started without their knowing about it, so that
he could prove to them what a good business it
was, and how well he could manage it, they would
gladly let him go on with it.
So, instead of telling all about his plan, he took
another tack and asked if Jenny and the donkey-
cart were not his own; and, if they were, how
they could be sold away from him. When it was
explained to him that until he was twenty-one
years old everything that was called his really, in
law, belonged to his father, and so must be sold
to pay his father's debts, he made his father and
mother just miserable as he found out after-
ward- by saying that he would go and talk mat-
ters over with Mr. Wilkinson; for it was not like
Billy to be thinking of himself when other people
were in trouble, and they were afraid that the fam-
ily misfortunes were making him selfish.
Mr. Wilkinson was Mr. Jenks's lawyer, and he
and Billy were great friends. He was a kind old
gentleman; and when Billy sent in a card with
"W. Jenks. On Important Business," written on
it, he invited Billy in. Billy knew that the lawyer's
time was very valuable, and he went straight to
the point. "Can or can not my donkey and don-
key-cart be sold to pay my father's debts?" he
asked. And Mr. Wilkinson came straight to the
point, too, by answering; "Of course they can."
Billy bit his lip hard, and tried to keep his self-
control; but he could not help giving just one
sob; -he had so set his heart upon helping his
father; and here was his plan for helping him
all knocked into a cocked hat!
Mr. Wilkinson was very sorry for Billy and tried
to comfort him. But, when he found that Billy
would n't be comforted, he spoke a little sharply


and said that he had expected better things of Billy,
and told him he was too big a boy to be selfish
about a miserable donkey, while his father was los-
ing everything he owned, and never making any
complaint about it at all.
At any other time, Billy would have had some-
thing to say to Mr. Wilkinson for calling his Jenny
"a miserable donkey "; but just then he forgot to
stand up for her. In a very fragmentary way- for
it was all that he could do to keep from bursting
out crying -he told Mr. Wilkinson all about his
plan for helping his father, and how the loss of
Jenny and the donkey-cart must, of course, upset
it completely. Mr. Wilkinson listened to Billy very
attentively without speaking a word, and was silent
for a little while after he had finished.
Billy, you are a very sensible boy," he said at
last; sensible enough, I'm sure, to see the differ-
ence between a business transaction and a personal
obligation. What I have to propose to you is a
business transaction. When Jenny and the cart
are sold, as they must be, I 'll buy them myself;
and then, for a fixed annual payment, I '11 let you
have them to run your express-business with.
Money is pretty low just now, and I '11 be quite
satisfied to get five per cent. out of my investment.
I reckon that the lot will cost me about a hundred
dollars, so you will have to pay me five dollars a
year. Now, don't interrupt me,"-Billy was try-
ing to say that he could not think of letting Mr.
Wilkinson do this act of great kindness for him,-
"for interrupting me won't do any good at all.
We're talking business now, and nothing else. I
am to get a reasonable return for my money, and
you will have a good margin for your own profit.
My offer is just what I told you it was a moment
ago -a straight-out business proposition, and you
need n't hesitate a moment about accepting it, if
you think well of it."
Well, the long and short of it was that Billy did
accept the offer; and as he was going away, after
shaking hands with Mr. Wilkinson and saying
how very much obliged he was to him, Mr. Wil-
kinson said:
"You can begin business whenever you please,
Billy. Until the sale takes place, the donkey and
cart will be yours, and after it takes place, they
will be mine. Therefore, as the property is, and
will continue to be, vested in the firm,"--Mr. Wil-
kinson waved his hand as if he were speaking to
a judge on the bench,-" there is no reason why
operations should not begin right away. My rela-
tion to this firm," Mr. Wilkinson added, as Billy
had his hand on the door knob, "is that of a
special partner. I put a fixed sum into the con-
cern, and I am responsible for the firm's debts
only so far as that sum goes. If you plunge madly


826


[SEPT.






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


into baggage-smashing, William Jenks, and smash
more than one hundred dollars' worth of trunks,
don't look to me to meet your liabilities, for I
won't!"
And then Mr. Wilkinson grinned at Billy, and
Billy tried hard to smile at Mr. Wilkinson,-
but he was so grateful for what Mr. Wilkinson had
done that it was all that he could do to keep from
crying. However, he got away without breaking
down, having steadied himself by the reflection that
he was now a man of business, and as such must
hold the tender emotions in check.
What pleased him most of all was the advice
that his partner had given him,-to begin work
right away,- and the confidence he now felt that,
with Mr. Wilkinson for a partner, his father and
mother would be sure to let him go ahead. He
was so pleased with it all that he started for home
on a dead run.
But all the wind was taken out of his sails when
he reached home, on finding that his mother had
been called away in a hurry by a telegram bring-
ing word that his Uncle John was sick, and that
his father had gone with her, and that they
would not be back until the next evening. Billy
was sorry to hear that his Uncle John was sick,-
at least, he was as sorry as he reasonably could be
about the sickness of an uncle whom he had seen
only two or three times in the course of his life, and
whom he might have met anywhere in the street
without recognition. For his mother, though, he
was very sorry indeed; for. he knew she was very
fond of her brother John,- and it did seem hard
that this fresh trouble should come to her with all
the others. Then, being reminded of the family
troubles, he presently forgot all about his Uncle
John's sickness and thought only of his project for
making these troubles lighter by running an ex-
press-wagon.
It was evident, since his father and mother had
gone away, that he could not talk over his plan
with them until they came back,- and that meant,
certainly, the loss of at least one whole day. What
he wished was to begin at once; and the more
he thought about it, and, especially, the more that
She reflected upon the assured position he had gained
by going into partnership with Mr. Wilkinson, the
more did he feel that waiting was unnecessary.
Besides, it occurred to him, how delightful it would
be to have some money his first day's earnings-
to give his father as a welcome home This last
thought settled the matter. He went down to the
carriage-house, and, with some black paint that
was there, began to put a sign on the spatter-
board along each side of the donkey-cart,-to
the great delight of the small boy who was taking
care of the stables, now that the coachman and


regular helpers had been discharged. Billy was
not much of a hand at sign-painting, but, as a
sign, his sign was a success; for the big, sprawly
letters could be read a long distance away, and the
queerness of the work certainly would attract at-
tention wherever it was seen. What he printed
was this:






Billy was so pleased with his handiwork that he
could have stood and looked at it all the rest of
the afternoon; but he again remembered, after a
while, that he was a man of business and that, as
he had heard his father say, to a man of business
time was money;- though just how time could be
money, he did not very clearly understand. What
he did understand, though, was that, if he meant
his express to have a good start, he ought to go
down to the station and tell the station-master,
Mr. Ruggles, that he was prepared to carry bag-
gage to and from the trains; and it also occurred
to him that, if it did n't cost too much, he ought
to advertise his business in The Gazette.
Mr. Ruggles stopped telephoning something and
seemed to be astonished, Billy thought, when
Billy told how he was going to start an express and
asked if orders for it might be left at the station.
But Mr. Ruggles kept his astonishment inside of
himself and answered, in his solemn way, If any-
body leaves orders here for this express of your,
Billy, whether the same comes by word of mouth, or
by mail, or through this here instrument, all I can
say is: you shall get 'em sure,"-and then he
began to telephone again. So that was all right.
The Gazette was not the very best sort of news-
paper. Its editor put into it many unpleasant
things which were only half true, or were not
true at all, and every now and then somebody
would sue it for libel. Only a short time before,
as it happened, the editor had been made to pay
very heavy damages for something that he had
published that was all wrong; and the lawyer who
had won the case against the paper was Mr. Wil-
kinson. Billy, of course, did not know anything
of this. He knew that The Gazette was the only
paper in the town and that he must put his adver-
tisement in that paper, or else not advertise at all.
In a general way, he knew that advertising cost
very heavily, and so he made his announcement
short and to the point. He thought very hard
over it, and finally wrote one that, he decided,
would do. But after he had it all in shape, he
suddenly began to wonder whether it would not be


827






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


dishonest to call the express his, when, in reality,
it was a joint undertaking in which all the capital
belonged to his special partner. Billy was just as
sound as a little dollar about honesty. So he
changed the advertisement to make it fit in with
what was right, or what he thought was right, and
then took it to the newspaper qffice.
It gave Billy a regular cold shiver when the
young man behind the desk took it, made dabs at
it with a pen for a minute or two, and then said,
" In display type this will cost you four dollars for
the first insertion, and two dollars and seventy-
five cents for each subsequent insertion; and
added, Special rates if it goes in by the month,
you know."
All that Billy could say was Oh! and he
felt a lump coming up in his throat. The idea of
paying so much money for mere advertising quite
took his breath away.
A man standing behind the counter had been
looking on in a queer sort of way, and now he
said, What is it, George?" and reached out his
hand for the advertisement. When he had read
it, his eyes gave a queer sort of twinkle, and he
stepped right up to Billy and said:
We won't charge you anything for this; -not
at first, anyway. If the express-business turns
out all right, we can make terms by the year;
and, if it does n't pay, why, you will have saved
this much capital at the start."
"I don't want you to print this for nothing,
sir," Billy began. I can't pay four dollars just
now; but I 've got a dollar, and "
But the man cut him short: "Don't you say
another word. I 'm the editor of this paper, and
if I choose to print an ad. for nothing, it 's no-
body's loss but my own."
Billy did not wish to accept a favor like this from
an entire stranger; but the editor was so pleas-
ant about it that Billy finally gave in, with the
understanding that if by the end of the week the
business had made a good start he might come
back and they would make a regular bargain for
printing the advertisement by the year.
As he left the office he heard the editor say to
the young man behind the desk, There 's not a
speck of libel in it, and it will make old Wilkin-
son just fairly howl on the house-tops! and then
they both burst out into roars of laughter.
Billy could not help wondering what it could be
that would make so very dignified and quiet a
man as Mr. Wilkinson do so absurd a thing as
to climb on top of the houses and howl; and why
anything like that should be the best joke of the
season he could not see. He concluded that it all
,was some joke that he did not understand.
But Mr. Wilkinson saw where the joke was -


though it did not strike him as being "the best
joke of the season" exactly; when The Gazette
came out the next morning with this advertisement
in it:



EXPRESS!

BAGGAGE AND PARCELS CAREFULLY
CARRIED
BY
W. JENKS.

D. WEBSTER WILKINSON, Esq.,
SPECIAL PARTNER.

TERMS MODERATE.

Please leave directions with Mr. Ruggles at the
Railway Station.
e. d. t o. s.


Well, at first, Mr. Wilkinson was angry about
it-almost as angry as the editor of The Gazette
expected, in fact; but he had the good sense to
laugh when people poked fun at him about his
new business; and to a few of his intimate friends
he told the whole story,-and nobody thought
any the worse of him when, to show that Billy had
not meant to make fun of him, and in self-defense,
he had to tell how kind-hearted he had been.
While the advertisement, in one way, was all
wrong, simply as an advertisement it was a tre-
mendous success. What with the wish to make
fun of Mr. Wilkinson, the good reason for prais-
ing him, and the kindly feeling for Billy,-all of
which the advertisement created when it came to
be understood,-the whole town, before noon,
was ringing with it; so that "W. Jenks's Ex-
press" was better advertised in half a day than
most new business ventures are in half a year.

Mike, the stable-boy,-who had a most unnat-
ural faculty for waking up early,- called Billy the
next morning, just at the edge of daylight; and
in the cool, gray dawn, Billy drove out through
the yard gates and down to the station to meet
the 5:55 train. There was not a soul on the
streets, and he was glad of it; for now that he
was actually started as an express-man, he felt a
little shy and queer about it. The only people
around the station were a man with a wooden leg,
and Mr. Ruggles, who had a green flag in his
hand and looked very sleepy. Presently the
train came along and stopped; but nobody got


828


[SEPT.






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


off. The man with the wooden leg got on, and
then the train. went puffing away down the line.
Better luck next time, Billy," said Mr. Rug-
gles, as he rolled up his flag, yawned, and went
into the station. Billy felt very flat, somehow.
But the next train was not due until 7: 20, and he
was glad enough to go home and get his breakfast.
When he drove down town, after breakfast, the






























"MR. RUGGLES STEPPED UP TO THE OLD GENTLEMAN AND ASK
streets were quite full of people; and they all
stared when they saw the little donkey-cart with
W. Jenks's Express on it, and W. Jenks him-
self sitting in front driving, and looking as sober
as a little judge. It struck Billy as very odd
that nearly everybody he met should be laughing.
There must be a great many jokes going about
that morning, he thought.
The 7: 20 was a through train from the West.
Only two people got out of it, but one of these -
as Billy observed with much satisfaction was an
old gentleman who was carrying what seemed to
be a very heavy bag. Somehow, he could not
bring himself to go up to the old gentleman and
say, in a business-like way, "Baggage carried,
sir? -which was what he fully had made up his
mind to do and all that he did, to show anybody
that there was an express around, was to cry
Whoa very loudly to Jenny. As Jenny was
standing stock-still, she was very much startled


when Billy said "Whoa! to her in that unpro-
voked sort of a way.
Luckily for Billy, Mr. Ruggles was wide awake
now, and saw how things were going; so up he
stepped to the old gentleman and asked him with
a grin if he would n't like the bag to be sent by
express. Considering what a small matter had to
be decided, they seemed to talk about it a long


ED IF HE WOULD N'T LIKE THE BAG TO BE SENT BY EXPRESS."


while; and Billy was sure that he heard his father's
name mentioned. But the end of the talk was
that the bag was put in the donkey-cart, and the
old gentleman -after giving Billy the number of
his house and agreeing to pay a quarter for the
expressage went by the short cut; and Billy
drove away with his first load of express-matter as
proud as a little king.
When he reached the house, there was the old
gentleman waiting for him; and he told Billy to
hitch the donkey and bring the bag inside. The
bag was very heavy, just as much as Billy could
stagger under -and he suddenly thought, what in
the world would he do if anybody asked him
to carry a trunk ? He had not thought about
trunks when he started his express, and now that
he did think of them they made him fairly shiver !
When he deposited the bag inside the hall, the
old gentleman asked how much there was to pay
- for he seemed to have forgotten that he had


829


1889.]






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


been very particular to get all that settled at the
station; and when Billy said "A quarter," he looked
thoughtful and said that a quarter was too much.
It made Billy very uncomfortable to have to ask
for money at all, and when the old gentleman
spoke in that way, he grew quite red in the face and
felt more uncomfortable still. Very well, sir,"
he said, you can pay anything you please. Or-
or you need n't pay anything at all," and he began
to move toward the door.
Stop said the old gentleman. That is n't
business."
"No, it is n't," said Billy; and it is n't busi-
ness to make a bargain and then not stick to
it. I told you, down at the station, what you
would have to pay for having your bag brought
up; and if you did n't want to pay it, you ought to
have said so then. I I beg your pardon, sir; I
don't mean to be rude," for it suddenly struck
Billy that this was a pretty up-and-down sort of a
way for a little boy to talk to an old gentleman,--
"but, you see, I'm not running this express for
fun; and if everybody did as you're doing, it
would n't pay to run it at all."
"You're not running it for fun, eh? Then
what are you running it for?" asked the old
gentleman, and there was a pleasant tone in his
voice that quite took Billy by surprise. In the
same friendly way he went on and asked more
questions, and the long and short of it was that
Billy told him the whole story: How his father
was in trouble, and he wanted to help him; and
how they were going to live in the little house,
and his father was going to start a little store over
by the New Row, and his mother was going to
give lessons upon the piano-in fact, all about
things generally. Of course, Billy did not mean
to tell everything, in this way; but it was not until
he had finished, that he suddenly realized that he
had been telling all his father's plans to an entire
stranger. Then he felt quite flustered, and said
that it was time for him to go. The old gentle-
man had become very much excited while Billy was
talking to him. He seemed to have forgotten all
about the quarter. He walked up and down the hall,
and swung his arms about at a great rate; so that
when Billy said "Good-morning" to him, and
came away, he did not even look up. But he
came running down the steps, just as Billy was
getting into the donkey-cart, and said:
Here 's your quarter, Billy Jenks. You 're a
good boy. You 're going to work just the way I
did. And, what 's more, your father must be a
good man." Then he went on, but apparently
speaking to himself rather than to Billy, "Why,
he's starting again just as I started in '57. That 's
the sort of man I like. He 's got honesty and


pluck in him." Suddenly he gave the hitching-
post a kick and burst out: Yes, I 'll do it I 'll
do it, as sure 4s my name is- ."
But Billy did not hear what his name was, for
when the post was kicked Jenny started off with a
jerk that made the cart rattle over the stones at a
great rate, and completely drowned the old gentle-
man's voice. It struck him that this certainly was
the queerest old gentleman he had ever come
across. He concluded that the old fellow must be
a little bit wrong in his head.
The next train was due at 11: 40, and Billy was
on hand at the station to meet it. But only two
or three people got off, and none of these had any
baggage to be carried. There was a big Irishman
with a big satchel, to be sure; but he swung the
satchel up on his shoulder, and as he passed Billy
and the cart, he gave a comical look and said:
"An' it's W. Jinks's Express, is it? Bedad, W..
Jinks, Oi 'll be after putting' you an' th' express,
an' th' donkey, an' all, up on other shoulder an'
carrying' you all away to wunst, if you don't moind
where you 're looking "
Billy thought this was very rude of him.
Just as he was driving away, feeling very much
disappointed, Mr. Ruggles came running alongthe
platform and called out:
"Hold on, Billy. Here 's lots of work for you
to do about all the town wants you to move it!"
Billy thought that Mr. Ruggles must be poking
fun at him,-though that was n't in Mr. Ruggles's
line exactly,-but he pulled Jenny up, and then
went back with Mr. Ruggles into the station. Mr.
Ruggles gave him a sheet of paper with more than
twenty orders on it; and while he was looking at
the list and wondering if it could be real, the tele-
phone bell rang and still another order was added!
"They 've been coming' in like that forth' last
hour. I guess your special partner must be drum-
min' up work for you," said Mr. Ruggles. with a
dry chuckle. He went on, You 've got your
hands full for this afternoon, Billy; an' as some
of the things to be moved is too heavy for you to
tackle, you 'd better hire Black Jake, here, to help
you. He 'll work all th' afternoon for fifty cents.
Get up there, out o' th' sun, you lazy critter. Go
help Billy Jenks, an' earn some money, for once,
outside o' chicken-stealin'!"
So Black Jake got up, grinning; and Billy, all
in amaze, hired him for fifty cents and went off to
attend to the first of his long list of orders. He
could not understand it at all.
But if he had known how all the town had been
talking about him, and his Express, and his Special
Partner, that morning, he would not have been so
much surprised by the sudden start that his busi-
ness had taken. Many of his orders were sent by


830


[SEPT.






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


people who expected to joke with Mr. Wilkinson
about having patronized his express; many more
by people who were pleased with Billy's pluck and
wished to help him; and still others came from
people who really wanted to send things about the
town, and were glad of this way to do it. Jenny--
she had to eat her dinner in half an hour; Billy
was so excited that he bolted his in ten minutes -
began to think in her donkey mind that the dis-


Jake walking beside the cart, ready to lend a hand
in unloading, and reached the head of Prince
street just as all the people were coming up from
the station, in a crowd. Among the very first,
he saw his father, and his mother, too; for, as it
turned out, there was nothing serious the matter
with her brother John, after all, and so his mother
had not stayed to look after him, as she had
expected to do when she went away.


"'NOW, WILLIAM JENKS,' SAID HIS FATHER, 'WHAT DOES ALL THIS MEAN?'"


mal days of her youth, when she had drawn a
huckster's cart and had lived mainly on beatings,
were come again.
By a little after six o'clock, Billy got his last load
on board a part of a broken bedstead and three
broken chairs, to be taken to the cabinet-maker's
--and the old lady who sent the load kept him
waiting so long, and gave him so many directions,
that he found that he would not have time to get
to the station to meet the 6:30 train. He was
sorry to miss that train, for more people came in
on it than on all the others put together, and it
was by that train that his father was coming -
and he did very much wish his father to see
him right in the thick of his work. .But there
was no use in worrying over what could n't be
helped; so he drove along slowly, with Black


Billy was very glad to see his father and mother,
and his first thought was to jump off the cart and
go and kiss them. But his second thought was
that he ought to show them that he really was a
business man now, and that his business must
come first and his pleasure afterward,- in other
words, that he could n't go to kissing members of
his family while he had a load to deliver. So he
chirped Jenny into a fast trot, and only gave his
father and mother a nod and a laugh as he whisked
past them. They saw the cart and the queer sign
on it, they caught a glimpse of the queer load, and
on the train Mr. Jenks had bought a copy of The
Gazette, and had read Billy's queer advertisement
with amazement.
Had Billy gone crazy while they were away,
or what had happened?


83I


1889.]






W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


They were so puzzled that they just stood still and
looked at each other,- while W. Jenks's Express
went flying down the street, with Black Jake on a
full run to keep beside it, and with the old lady's
bit of a bedstead and three broken chairs dancing
around the cart in a way that, had she seen it,
would have made every hair in her false-front stand
straight up on end and every one of her false teeth
chatter Mr. Jenks gave a long whistle he had
a way of giving whistles when anything surprised
him very much--and then he and Mrs. Jenks
went home. They were about the most astonished
people in that town.
Billy reached home nearly as soon as his father
and mother, and ran into the house to give them
the kisses which he had wished to give them
down town.
Now, William Jenks," said his father, when
the kissing was over, what does all this mean? '!
It gave Billy something of a start to be called
William Jenks, in that way; for his father never
dreamed of calling him anything but Billy, unless
there was a storm brewing. But, as Billy was
sure that there was nothing to raise a storm about
in what he had been doing since his father went
away, he did not mind very much; and with what
he felt to be a fairly justifiable pride he went
ahead and told all about his starting in the express
business and what a capital start he had made
of it.
"Then that was why you did not wish Jenny to
be sold?" his mother asked, when he told about
his consultation with Mr. Wilkinson in regard to
the donkey's ownership.
"Why, of course it. was," Billy answered; as
though his desire to use Jenny as an.express-
donkey could be the only possible reason why he
should be unwilling to part with her for good and
all-and he never quite understood what it was
that made his mother get up just then, give him a
great hug and kiss, and say to his father in a tri-
umphant sort of way, I told you so Nor did he
understand why it was that his father and mother
laughed so, when he told them about the special
partnership that he had formed with Mr. Wilkin-
son; nor what made his father look so oddly when
he told about his long talk with the queer old
gentleman who came on the train.
However, there was no mistaking the way in
which they both hugged him when he came to the
end of his story and gave his father the six dollars
and seventy-five cents he had earned that day -
and explained that there would have been half a
dollar more, if only he had been a little stronger
and so had not been compelled to hire Black Jake
to help him. But Billy could not help thinking,
considering what a good day he had made of it,


that it was rather unreasonable in his mother to
cry all the time that she was hugging him; and he
wondered if cinders could have got into his father's
eyes, on the train,- he winked so. and they looked
so red and watery. Just as he was full of delight
that his plan had worked so well, his father brought
him up all standing--after most of the hugging
was over-by telling him that the express-business
could not go on It would n't do, his father said,
for such a little chap as he was to go at such hard
work, even if they all were starving; and they
were nowhere near starving, as yet. There was
just the slimmest sort of a chance, his father
went on, that at the final meeting of his creditors-
the next day, things might be arranged so that he
could go on; and, even if he were forced into bank-
ruptcy, he said, he and Mrs. Jenks could earn
enough money to keep the little house going, with-
i'out making Billy help them, for a few years.
By the time that his father was through with
all that he had to say, Billy had to own up that the
right thing for him to do was to work hard at the
public school, and so get ready to take care of his
mother and the baby, in case his father should get
sick, or die, or do anything of that sort. But it
certainly was hard on him, he thought, to have to
give up the express-business just as he had made
such a splendid start in it.

The next day Mr. Jenks's creditors held their
last meeting before making a bankrupt of him.
After everybody had settled into their chairs, Mr.
Wilkinson said that they had a very unpleasant
piece of work to do, and that the sooner they were
through with it the better. All the creditors but
one, he said,-and as he said this he looked very
hard at old Mr. Skimmington, and so did every-
body else; and, while nobody spoke a word, a
sort of growl went around the room,-all the
creditors but one had consented to an extension;
but since this one could not be brought to take a
liberal and sensible view of the case, there was
nothing for his client to do but to go into bank-
ruptcy. Then there was a dead silence, and every-
body looked hard at old Mr. Skimmington. And
then, in an instant, Mr. Skimmington said, in his
sharp way:
I 've changed my mind. I '11 give him an ex-
tension, too "
All the other gentlemen were on their feet, and
crowding around Mr. Skimmington, and shaking
hands with him, in no time; and all of them were
talking at once, as hard as ever they could talk.
Mr. Jenks was the only man in the room who re-
mained seated. He scarcely had dared to hope,
even, that he would get an extension: and when
Mr. Skimmington came round in this sudden sort


832





W. JENKS'S EXPRESS.


of way it quite upset him. But he did not stay
upset long; and when he was steady again he went
up to Mr. Skimmington and shook hands with him
and said that he was very much obliged to him
indeed for his liberality.
"Don't you thank me, Mr. Jenks," said Mr.
Skimmington. Thank yourself a little, and
thank your boy Billy much more. Yesterday,
sir, your boy brought my bag up from the station
in his donkey-cart express-wagon,--I recognized
the name on the wagon, and Ruggles told me
it was your son,-and I made him come in and
talk to me. It was not the thing for me to do,
sir, I admit; but I made him tell me all about
himself, and a good deal about you. And the
upshot of that talk is, as I said just now, that I 've
changed my mind. I am in harmony with your
other creditors, and am ready to join them in giv-
ing you an extension -for the man who is ready
to step down to the foot of the ladder and take a
fresh start, as you were going to do, sir, deserves
to have his friends keep him at the top !
"I am not much given to making jokes, gen-
tlemen," Mr. Skimmington went on, "but I will
make one now." There was a sort of awed silence


in the room as he said this, for the bare thought
of Mr. Skimmington's making a joke was so unnat-
ural that there was something rather dreadful
about it. "Yes, I will make one now: What
has carried our friend here safely out of his diffi-
culties is -' W. Jenks's Express !'"
Well, it was not very much of a joke, after all,
but by this time everybody was in such good
humor that they all began to laugh over it as
if it had been the very best joke that ever was
made. When they were done laughing, at last,
they settled down to business and had Mr. Jenks's
extension all arranged in no time.
Billy told me the whole story all over again, the
other day, while we were taking a drive in the
donkey-cart.

Mr. Jenks is all right now, and my father says
that he is doing better than ever, since he and
Mr. Skimmington have been such good friends,
for Mr. Skimmington gives him plenty of valuable
advice;- and Billy said that the only thing that
bothered him was that his father had not let him
go ahead and be an express-man. It was pretty
hard work, he said, but he liked it.


"WE SAIL THE OCEAN BLUE, AND OUR SAUCY SHIP 'S A BEAUTY!"


VOL. XVI.-53.












HELEN KELLER.

BY FLORENCE HOWE HALL.


MOST children go to three or four schools at the
same time, and perhaps that is the reason why
they sometimes get just a little bit tired of their
lessons.
First come the Eye and Ear schools -and a
baby begins to attend these as soon as he is old
enough to know anything; nor does he -graduate
from them while eyesight, hearing, and life remain.
Next comes the Tongue school, and we all know
how interesting it is to watch a dear little baby, as
he gradually learns to say one word after another,
and to pronounce s, th, and r-those sounds
which are such dreadful stumbling-blocks to many
little folks. About this time, or a little earlier,
Baby begins to spend many of his spare moments
at the Touch or." Feeling school; and if he be
of an inquiring turn of mind, he may learn many
interesting and some very unpleasant facts at this
educational establishment. He may learn if he
put his fingers on the stove that fire burns; also
that pins scratch, that knives hurt, and that ice
chills. At the schools of Smell and Taste he will
learn lessons agreeable and disagreeable. I think
that almost all little boys and girls pay an early
visit to the pepper or mustard pot, and that the
visit leaves sad and very pungent memories behind.
By and by, Baby grows to be quite a'big boy or
girl, and is sent off to real school, as children
would say. Here he often finds that he has too
many calls upon his thoughts. The Eye-school-
mistress urges him to look out of the window and
study the butterflies, the birds, and the flowers;
the Ear-schoolmistress perhaps puts it into his
head to listen to the recitation of the bigger boys,
and learn something in that way. And all this
time the real, live schoolmistress is saying,
"Johnny, why don't you study your spelling
lesson?" or, "Johnny, have you learned that
multiplication-table yet?"
For these reasons, Johnny does not always ap-
preciate the really striking beauties of the multi-
plication-table, nor the joys that lurk even in the
most dismally long and hateful spelling-lesson.
Johnny feels -and very naturally- that school
is a superior sort of prison. When its doors close
behind him, they shut out his body from the great
world of nature, and he is too young to realize that
the glorious gates of knowledge can not open to


admit his mind, unless he first prepares it in that
narrow school-room, which tires and cramps his
active little body.
But suppose that Johnny were entirely cut off
from that outer world; suppose that the Eye, and
Ear, and Tongue schools had shut their doors
upon him, and he sat in utter darkness and silence,
with no schoolmistress to help him save the one
living in the ends of his fingers, and with no one
to answer any of his questions, or to explain -to
him the meaning of the strange objects which his
restless hands felt, but which, alasl he could
not understand? In other words, suppose that
Johnnie were deaf, dumb, and blind,- could
neither understand other people, nor make them
understand him,- would he not hail with delight
a schoolmistress who should deliver him from this
living death, and would he not love the real
school" which taught him all that he had been
longing to know in his dark prison-aye, and
much more than he had ever dreamed of?
In the August ST. NICHOLAS, Dr. Jastrow told
you the story of Laura Bridgman, who was thus
afflicted. This month I shall tell you of Helen
Keller, blind and deaf and dumb, as was Miss
Bridgman, but otherwise a bright, happy little girl.
For five long years she had sat in silent darkness -
darkness of the mind as well as of the body.
How can we wonder at her delight when a deliverer
was found to free her from her prison, at her rap-
ture over the tiresome lessons which meant life -
eyes, ears, everything-- to her ?
Miss Sullivan tells us that after having been two
or three months under tuition, Helen would throw
her arms around her teacher with a kiss whenever
a new word was given her to spell! Because, in
Helen's case, spelling a word is the only way of
learning it. She must spell out all the letters on
her fingers in order to say, or rather use, a word.
Thus she comes to think -nay, even to dream-
in finger language; and her busy hands, as did
Laura Bridgman's, move when she sleeps, spelling
out the confused dreams that pass through her
little brain.
As for arithmetic, Helen found the study so
exciting, she was so intensely interested in solving
problems on her type-slate," that it was feared
per health would be injured, and, to her great






HELEN KELLER.


regret, the precious type-slate had for a time to be
taken from her, because thinking about all the
wonderful things that can be done with figures
kept the child awake at night.
Her full name is Helen Adams Keller, and she
was born in Tuscumbia, Alabama, June 27, 188o,
with all her senses in perfect condition. She was
a bright little baby, and could see and hear as well
as any of us. She had learned to walk and was
learning to talk, when, at nineteen months of age,
she was attacked by a severe illness, and when it
passed away, it left her blind and deaf. Dumb-
ness is, in almost all cases, the result of deafness--
deaf people can not talk, simply because they can
not hear; and so our poor little Helen ceased to
talk soon after this terrible illness, because she was
unable to hear any sound. The few words that
she had learned, faded from her baby brain, and
she entered upon a long term of solitary confine-
ment of the mind now happily ended forever !
She has always been a very intelligent child, and
even in these dark days she learned something
from the "Touch" schoolmistress, and something
more from her kind mother, who allowed little
Helen to keep constantly at her side as she went
about her household duties. The little girl showed
great aptitude for learning about these matters,
and she also imitated the motions of people whom
she did not see, indeed, but felt. All blind chil-
dren like to touch every one with whom they are
brought into contact -it is their only way of seeing
how their friends look, and what sort of clothes
they wear.
Helen also invented a number of signs to express
her wants, and some of her thoughts. Since 'he
has learned to talk with her fingers, this natural,
or sign, language has been gradually laid aside;
but when I last saw her, in September, 1888, she
still used a number of signs, about which I may
tell you by and by. So the "Touch" school-
mistress did all that she could for Helen, and the
little girl was, for a time, satisfied with these teach-
ings. But as she grew older, as her brain became
more active, she began to long for wider knowl-
edge, and would be almost in despair, when she
could not express her ideas in such a way that those
about her could understand her meaning. On these
occasions, she would be seized with violent parox-
ysms of anger; but after she had learned to talk
with her fingers, she had no more outbursts of rage,
and now she seldom loses her temper, for she is a
sweet and gentle child, and very affectionate.
But her poor little mind was in prison; she
was like a captive bird, and if she had not beaten
thus against the doors of her cage her parents
would not 'perhaps have realized that her baby
days were over, and that the time had come when


she must be set free-when she must be taught
the use of language.
So Captain Keller, Helen's father, wrote to Mr.
Anagnos, of the Perkins Institution for the Blind,
in Boston,* to ask whether he could not send a
"real" schoolmistress to teach little Helen, and
Mr. Anagnos chose for the position a very kind
and intelligent young girl who was just graduated
from his school. Her name was Annie M. Sulli-
van. Although she had been almost entirely blind
when she had come to study at the Institution, her
sight had been mercifully restored to her through
the aid of skillful doctors.
But she remembered very well what a sad thing
it was to be blind, and felt the greatest sympathy
for little Helen. She spent six months in preparing
herself for her task, and studied very carefully all
that Dr. Howe had written about Laura Bridgman,
and the way in which the latter had been taught, as
well as a great many big books on mental develop-
ment, which you and I would, perhaps, find rather
dry reading.
Helen's lessons began in the most agreeable
manner, for the first thing she learned about was a
handsome doll. Miss Sullivan took the little girl's
hand and passed it over the doll. Then she made

the letters, d-o-l-l, slowly with the finger alphabet.
When she began to make them the second time,
Helen dropped the doll, and tried to make the
letters herself with one hand, at the same time feel-
ing of Miss Sullivan's fingers with her other hand.
Then she tried to spell the word alone, and soon
learned to do so correctly, also to spell five other
words, hat, mug, fin, cup, ball. When Miss Sul-
livan handed her a mug, for instance, Helen would
spell m-u-g with her fingers, and it was the same
with the other words.
In a little more than a week after this lesson, she
understood that all objects have names, and so the
first and most difficult step in her education was
accomplished in a marvelously short time.
Helen has a baby sister named Mildred, of
whom she is very fond. She was delighted when
Miss Sullivan put her hand on the baby's head,
and spelled b-a-b-y. Now, at last, she had a
name for the dear little sister whom she loved so
well. Before this time, though of course she had
often thought of Mildred, she had known no
name nor word by which to call her. How curious
Helen's thoughts must have been before the time
when Miss Sullivan came to her- thoughts with-
out words.
I do not wonder that she enjoyed her studies,
for her teacher taught her in ways so pleasant
that her lessons were like so many little plays.
Thus she made Helen stand on a chair in order to
learn the word on, and the little girl was put into


* See "The Story of Laura Bridgman," ST. NICHOLAS for August, 1889.


835






HELEN KELLER.


the wardrobe -and so learned the meaning of
into.
After she had learned a large number of words,
Miss Sullivan began to teach her to read as the
blind do-that is from raised letters, which they
feel with the tips of their fingers. Miss Sullivan
took an alphabet sheet, and put Helen's finger on
the letter A, at the same time making the letter
A with her own fingers, and so on through the
entire alphabet. Helen learned all the printed let-
ters, both capitals and small letters, in one day!
Then her teacher put Helen's fingers on the word
cat in the primer for the blind, at the same time
spelling the word in the finger alphabet. The little

















I .
-,







MISS SULLIVAN, HELEN'S TEACHER.
(FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY IRA F. COLLINS.)

girl caught the idea instantly, asked for dog, and
many other words, and was much displeased be-
cause her own name, "Helen," was not in the
primer! She was so delighted with her book that
she would sit for hours feeling of the different words,
and when she touched one with which she was
familiar, a peculiarly sweet expression would light
up her face."
SMr. Anagnos had some sheets of paper printed
with all the words Helen knew. These were cut
up into slips, each containing a single word, and
the little girl was overjoyed at being able to make
sentences for herself. Next she learned to write
these same sentences with pencil and paper, on a
writing-board such as the blind use a piece of
pasteboard with grooves in it, which is placed


under the writing-paper, the letters being written:in
the grooves, each groove forming a line. At first
Miss Sullivan guided her hand, but soon Helen
learned to write alone --and she writes a very
neat, firm handwriting. The first sentence she
wrote was, "Cat does drink milk." When
she found that her dear mother could read what
she had written she could scarcely restrain her
joy and excitement! For now Helen had found
two doors leading out of her prison the finger al-
phabet, with which she could talk to those around
her, and the written alphabet, by means of which
she could communicate with friends at a distance.
Would you believe it possible, that Helen could
read, and also write, letters ? Not letters such
as you and I write, but letters written accord-
ing to what is called the Braille system. This
system is simple and ingenious. Each letter
of the alphabet is represented by pin-pricks
placed in different positions, and the blind can
read what has been written, by feeling of the
pin-pricks. A little sharp-pointed instrument,
like a stiletto, is used for punching the holes,
through a piece of brass containing square per-
forations, each of which is large enough to
hold one letter of the alphabet. The paper
is fastened firmly into a sort of wooden slate
covered With cloth, but can easily be removed
when the page is filled.
It seems almost incredible that Helen should
have learned in four months to use and spell
correctly more than four hundred and fifty
words! On the first day of March, 1887, the
poor child was almost like a dumb animal:
she knew no language-not a single word,
nor a single letter. In July, of the same year,
she had not only learned to talk fluently with
her fingers, but had learned also to read raised
type, to write a neat square hand, and to
write letters to her friends Her progress
during these first months seems simply marvel-
ous, especially when we remember that she was
only six years and eight months old when Miss Sul-
livan began to teach her. She has gone on acquir-
ing knowledge with the same wonderful rapidity.
After she had been under tuition for one year,
she knew the multiplication-tables, and could add,
subtract, multiply, and divide numbers, up to Ioo.
At first she had some trouble in understanding.
that the numbers on her type-slate represented so
many apples and oranges in the examples, but in
a few days this difficulty was overcome, and she
then became much interested in her ciphering,
and puzzled her little head so continually with ex-
amples that the "big giant, Arithmos," had to be
banished from her presence !
Helen's type-slate is like those that the blind


836


[SEPT.






HELEN KELLER.


use. The types have raised numbers on one end;
the slate itself is of metal, covered with square
holes, into which Helen sets the types, just as we
would write down figures.
She is very fond of writing in her diary, and it
is very interesting to trace her progress as shown
in this and in her other writings. Here is a short
description of rats, which she wrote January 16,


many proofs'of the goodness and unselfishness of
her little heart. Thus, at a Christmas-tree festival,
at which Helen was present, she found one little girl
who, through some mistake, had not received any
gifts. Helen tried to find the child's presents, but
not succeeding in her search, she flew to her own
little store of precious things and took from it a
mug, which she herself prized very highly. This


HELEN KELLER AND HER DOG. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY DEANE AND TURNER.)
1888, and which, perhaps, may amuse some of my she gave to the little stranger, "with abundant
young readers: love."


RATS.
JAN. 16th, 1888.
Rats are small animals. They are made of flesh and
blood and bone. They have four feet and a tail.
They have one head and two ears and two eyes and
one nose.
They have one mouth and sharp teeth. They gnaw
holes in wood with their teeth. They do walk softly.
Rats killed little, little pigeons. Cats do catch rats
and eat them.

Helen never knew that there was such a day as
Christmas-day, until Miss Sullivan went to her.
Fancy a little girl who never had a Christmas,
until she was seven years old Her teacher tells
us that she hailed the glad tidings of the happy
Christmas season with the greatest joy, and gave


In the following letter she tells us something of
her Christmas experiences, and mentions the very
mug, I think, of which I have spoken.
TUSCUMBIA, ALA., Jan. 2, I888.
DEAR SARAH: I am happy to write to you this morn-
ing. I hope Mr. Anagnos is coming to see me soon.
I will go to Boston in June, and I will buy father gloves,
and James nice collar, and Simpson cuffs. I saw Miss
Betty and her scholars. They had a pretty Christmas-tree,
and there were many pretty presents on it for little chil-
dren. I had a mug and little bird and candy. I had
many lovely things for Christmas. Aunt gave me a
trunk for Nancy, and clothes. I went to party with
teacher and mother. We did dance and play and eat nuts
and candy and cakes and oranges, and I did have fun
with little boys and girls. Mrs. Hopkins did send me
lovely ring. I do love her and little blind girls.


837






HELEN KELLER.


Men and boys do make carpets in mills: Wool grows
on sheep. Men do cut sheep's wool off with large shears,
and send it to the mill. Men and women do make wool
cloth in mills.
Cotton grows on large stalks in fields. Men and boys
and girls and women do pick cotton. We do make
thread and cotton dresses of cotton. Cotton has pretty
white and red flowers on it.. Teacher did tear her dress.
Mildred does cry. I will nurse Nancy. Mother will
buy me lovely new aprons and dress to take to Boston.
I went to Knoxville with father and Aunt. Bessie is
weak and little. Mrs. Thompson's chickens killed
Leila's chickens. Eva does sleep in my bed. I do
love good girls. Good-bye. HELEN KELLER.

The Nancy mentioned in this letter is a large
rag-doll, of which Helen is very fond. She has
a large family of dolls, and enjoys playing with
them, and sewing for them, when she is not read-
ing or engaged with her teacher.
Here is an extract from her diary which speaks
very tenderly of the finny tribe, and all the troubles
which hook and line bring upon them:

MARCH 8, I888.
We had fish for breakfast. Fish live in the deep water.
There are many hundreds of fish swimming about in the
water. Men catch fish with poles and hooks and lines.
They put a little tiny fish on the hook and throw it in
the water, and fish does bite the little fish and sharp
hook does stick in poor fish's mouth and hurt him much.
I am very sad for the poor fish. Fish did not know that
very sharp hook was in tiny fish. Men must not kill
poor fish. Men do pull fish out and take them home,
and cooks do clean them very nice and fry them, and
then they are very good to eat for breakfast.

It is slow work, spelling words with one's fingers,
and Helen was at first inclined to use only the most
important words in a sentence. Thus she would
say, "Helen, milk," when she wanted some milk
to drink. But Miss Sullivan, who is as firm as
she is sweet and gentle, knew that the little girl
would never learn to think clearly, and would never
make real progress in acquiring knowledge, if
allowed to express herself in this babyish way. Miss
Sullivan would therefore bring the milk, in order to
show Helen that her wish was understood, but would
not allow her to drink it, until she had made a com-
plete sentence, her teacher assisting her. When
she had said, "Give Helen some milk to drink,"
she was permitted to drink it. As we have seen,
Helen began her lessons with Miss Sullivan in
March, 1887, and in one year her progress was so
extraordinary that it was thought best to omit her
regular lessons, when the month of March came
round again.
So Helen took a vacation of several months; but,
though her "real" school did not "keep" during all
this time, she did not cease to learn, for her real"


schoolmistress is always with the little girl, con-
stantly talking with her, and explaining things to
her. Miss Sullivan is, indeed, "eyes to the blind,
and ears to the deaf," and a sweeter and gentler
pair of eyes it would be hard to find. Through
her, Helen learns more and more of this beautiful
world and all that is going on in it.
Helen is very cheerful and happy in spite of her
sad lot; she does not, of course, fully understand
how much she has lost, in losing her si gh t a nd ea r-
ing, and it is best that she should not do so. Some-
times she longs to see. While riding in the cars, not
long ago, she tried to look out of the car window,
and said to her companion, I can't see; I try to
see, but I CAN'T !" She told Mr. Anagnos, that she
must see a doctor for her eyes. Alas! no doctor
lives who is skillful enough to help little Helen's
eyes and ears. Her parents and friends have con-
sulted the most skillful oculists and aurists; but
the doctors all agree that nothing can be done for
her! She herself hopes that, as she grow s older,
she will be able to see.
While we all must pity her intensely, for her
sad deprivations, we should remember that even
these afflictions have their bright side, and \ihile
they wrap her from the outer world, as in a dark
garment, they also shield her from all unkindness,
from all wickedness. Every one who comes near
little Helen is so moved with pity for her infirmities
that all treat her with the utmost grentleness she
does not know what unkindness is, her teacher tells
us, and we may fully believe it. Thus, while she can
neither see the trees, nor the flowers, nor the bright
sunshine, while she can not hear the birds sing, she
knows the best side of every human being, and only
the best. She lives in a world of love, and good-
ness, and gentleness. Were we speaking, just now,
of pitying little Helen? Itmay be she does not ri.-d
our pity -perhaps some of us fnay need hers!
You will not be surprised, after what I have
said, to hear that our little friend is very kind to
animals. When driving in a carriage, she will not
allow the driver to use a whip because, as she says,
Poor horses will cry."
She was much distressed, one morning, upon
finding that a certain dog named "Pearl," had a
block of wood fastened to its collar. It was
explained to Helen that this was necessary, in
order to keep the dog from running away; but still
she was not satisfied, and, at every opportunity
during the day, she would seek out Pearl, and
carry the block of wood herself, that the dog might
rest from its burden.
Helen is very fond of dress, and it makes her
very unhappy to find a tear in any of her clothing.
She has a little jacket of which she is extremely
proud, and which she wished to wear last summer,


838


[SEPT,






HELEN KELLER.


even when the weather was so warm that she would
almost have melted away in it. Her mother said
to her one day, There is a poor- little girl who
has no cloak to keep her warm. Will you give her
yours ?"
Helen immediately began to take off the pre-
cious jacket, saying, I must give it to a poor little
strange girl. "
She is very fond of children younger than her-
self, and is always ready-as I hope all my readers
are--to give up her way for theirs. She loves
little babies, and handles them very carefully and
tenderly. When she is riding in a horse-car, she


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those great steamboats that ply on the Mississippi
River, and said, when she had finished the tour of
the vessel, It is like a very large house."
She also made a visit to the Cotton Exchange at
Memphis, where she was introduced to many of
the gentlemen, and wrote their names on the
blackboard. But she did not quite understand
why there were maps and blackboards hanging on
the wall, and said to her teacher, Do men go to
school? "
In June, 1888, Helen came to New England for a
stay of four months, and great was her delight when
she made her long anticipated visit to the Perkins


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SPECIMEN OF THE BRAILLE SYSTEM OF PRINTING FOR THE BLIND.
(THE BLACK POINTS INDICATE RAISED DOTS IN THE PAPER.)


always asks whether there are any babies among
the passengers; also, how many people there are
in the car, what the colors of the horses are, and,
most difficult question of all to answer, she de-
mands the names of the conductor and driver!
She also wishes to know what is to be seen from
the car window so that, as you may imagine, her
teacher does not rest much while going about with
Helen. For talking with one's fingers, and under-
standing what other people say with theirs, is
much more fatiguing than talking in the usual
way. While listening," it is necessary to keep
one's attention closely fixed on each letter as it is
made for if one misses a single letter, the thread
of the whole sentence is often lost, and it must all
be repeated.
She asks constantly, when she is traveling, or
staying at a hotel, What do you see ? What are
people doing ?"
She had the pleasure of going all over one of


Institution for the Blind, at Boston. Here she
found many people who could talk with her in her
own finger-language. Not only did this give her
the greatest pleasure, but also much instruction,
for hitherto she had rarely met any one with whom
she could talk, save her mother and teacher. And
so the doors of her prison grew larger and wider,
till our little friend seemed to breathe in more
freedom and knowledge, with every breath! You
may perhaps think it strange that Helen's father
should not be able to talk much to her; but it
seems to be more difficult for men to learn to use
the finger-language than for women. Their hands
are, of course, larger, more clumsy, and less flex-
ible; and perhaps their thoughts do not move
quite so nimbly. Mr. Anagnos has learned to
talk to Helen, but she finds it rather hard to
understand him, since her hand is small and his
is large. I saw her "listening" to him one day,
and she "listened" by passing her hand all over


** *
* *

F O0


*
B L I N D





HELEN KELLER.


his, often straightening out his fingers, because she
thought that he did not make the letters correctly!
When a woman talks to Helen, she makes the
letters in the palm of Helen's hand, and the little
girl understands each one instantly. As some of
the letters resemble one another very closely, it
seems wonderful that Helen can distinguish them
so quickly -much more rapidly than I can do, by

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and Latin words. Indeed, in one of her letters to
Mr. Anagnos, she wrote, I do want to learn much
about everything." She is a wonderfully bright
child, and her teacher, instead of urging her to
study, is often obliged to coax Helen away from
some example in arithmetic, or other task, lest the
little girl should injure her health by working too
hard at her lessons.



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REDUCED FAC-SIMILE OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY HELEN KELLER.


looking at them. Her little hand closes very slightly
over the hand of the person who is speaking to her,
as each letter is made and they are made at a very
rapid rate, by those who have practiced the use of
the manual alphabet.
Helen is very fond of Mr. Anagnos, and he him-
self loves the little girl very dearly. He has taught
her a few words and phrases of his native language
-Greek-as she begged him to do so. Some of
these she spelled for me, and spelled them very
fast, too. I can not remember all these words;
but here are a few, which I wrote down: Good
morning, Ka-), 411tpau. Finger-ring, AaxTouitLov.
I love thee, Zt &ycLau. Good-bye, Xa.pe. Hair,
Tpi;X.
She has also learned several German, French,


The following letter, which was written to her
aunt in Tuscumbia, while Helen was visiting at the
North, is interesting, because it gives some of the
foreign words and phrases which she has learned:

MY DEAREST AUNT: I-am coming home very soon,
and I think you and every one will be very glad to see
my teacher and me. I am very happy, because I have
learned much about many things. I am studying French
and German, and Latin and Greek. Se agapo, is Greek,
and it means, I love thee. J'ai une bonne petite saur,
is French, and it means, I have a good little sister. Nous
avons un bon pire et une bonne m2re means, We have a
good father and a good mother. Puer is boy in Latin,
and Mutter is mother in German. I will teach Mildred
many languages when I come home.
HELEN A. KELLER.


840


[SEPT.





HELEN KELLER.


The following account of the noises made by
different animals has a sad significance, when we
remember that it was written by one who cannot
hear even the loudest peal of thunder, or the heavy
booming of cannon :
JULY 14, 1888.
Some horses are very mild and gentle, and some are
wild and very cross. I like to give gentle horse nice,
fresh grass to eat, because they will not bite my hand,
and I like to pat their soft noses. I think mild horses
like to have little girls very kind to them. Horses neigh,
and lions roar, and wolves howl, and cows mow, and
pigs grunt, and ducks quack, and hens cackle, and roost-
ers crow, and birds sing, and crows caw, and chickens
say peep," and babies cry, and people talk, and laugh,
and sing, and groan, and men whistle, and bells ring.
Who made many noises ?

I wish that space permitted me to tell the read-
ers of ST. NICHOLAS more about little Helen-


her letters, she loves to romp and play with other
children, and enjoyed very much playing and
studying with the little blind children during her
stay at the Kindergarten for the Blind, near Bos-
ton. Here she met little Edith Thomas, a child
afflicted in the same way as Helen herself; and
the two little girls kissed and hugged each other
to their hearts' content. Here she learned also to
model in clay, to make bead-baskets, and to knit
with four needles. She was much pleased with
this latter accomplishment, and said that she could
now knit some stockings for her father !
She has a wonderfully strong memory, and sel-
dom forgets what she has once learned; and she
learns very quickly. But her marvelous progress
is not due to her fine memory alone, but also
to her great quickness of perception, and to her
remarkable powers of thought. To speak a
little more clearly, Helen understands with sin-


BLIND CHILDREN AT PLAY IN THE PARLOR OF THE KINDERGARTEN, NEAR BOSTON. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY A. E. ALDEN.)


about some of her funny doings and bright say-
ings. But if I should tell you all the interesting
stories that I have heard about her, they would
take up nearly the whole magazine.
You will be glad to hear that she is a healthy,
vigorous child, very tall and large for her age, and
with a finely developed head. As you will see by


gular rapidity, not only what is said to her, but
even the feelings and the state of mind of those
about her, and she thinks more than.most chil-
dren of her age. The "Touch" schoolmistress
has done such wonders for her little pupil that you
would scarcely believe how many things Helen
finds out, as with electric quickness, through her


'"
'' ~'


i;:





HELEN KELLER.


fingers. She knows in a moment whether her com-
panions are sad, or frightened, or impatient -in
other words, she has learned so well what move-
ments people make under the influence of different
feelings that at times she seems to read our thoughts.
Thus, when she was walking one day with her
mother, a boy exploded a torpedo which fright-
ened Mrs. Keller. Helen asked at once, "What
are you afraid of ?" Some of you already know
that sound (i. e., noise of all sorts) is produced
by the vibrations of the air striking against our
organs of hearing-that is to say, the ears; and
deaf people, even though they can hear absolutely
nothing, are still conscious of these vibrations.


she found out a secret that had baffled all the
"seeing" people present. She tapped her fore-
head twice, and spelled, "I think."
I can not forbear telling you one more anecdote
about her, which seems to me a very pathetic one.
She is a very good mimic, and loves to imitate the
motions and gestures of those about her, and
she can do so very cleverly. On a certain Sunday,
she went to church with a lady named Mrs. Hop-
kins, having been cautioned beforehand by her
teacher, that she must sit very quiet during the
church service. It is very hard to sit perfectly
still, however, when you can't hear one word of
what the minister is saying, and little Helen pres-


THE KINDERGARTEN FOR THE BLIND. (DRAWN FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY A. E. ALDEN.)


Thus, they can "feel" loud music, probably be-
cause it shakes the floor; and Helen's sense of
feeling is so wonderfully acute, that she no doubt
learns many things from these vibrations of the
air which to us are imperceptible.
The following anecdote illustrates both her quick-
ness of touch and her reasoning powers. The
matron of the Perkins Institution for the Blind
exhibited one day, to a number of friends, a glass
lemon-squeezer of a new pattern. It had never
been used, and no one present could guess for what
purpose it was intended. Some one handed it to
Helen, who spelled "lemonade" on her fingers,
and asked for a drinking-glass. When the glass
was brought, she placed the squeezer in proper
position for use.
The little maid was closely questioned as to how


ently began to talk to Mrs. Hopkins, and ask what
was going on. Mrs. H. told her, and reminded
her of Miss Sullivan's injunction about keeping
quiet. She immediately obeyed, and turning her
head in a listening attitude, she said, "I listen."
The following letter, to her mother, shows how
much progress Helen had made in the use of lan-
guage during her stay at the North:

So. BOSTON, MASS., Sept. 24th.
MY DEAR MOTHER: I think you will be very glad
to know all about my visit to West Newton. Teacher
and I had a lovely time with many kind friends. West
Newton is not far from Boston, and we went there in
the steam-cars very quickly.
Mrs. Freeman and Carrie, and Ethel and Frank and
Helen came to station to meet us in a huge carriage. I
was delighted to see my dear little friends, and I hugged


'842


[SEPT.






HELEN KELLER.'


and kissed them. Then we rode for a long time to see
all the beautiful things in West Newton. Many very
handsome houses and large soft green lawns around
them, and trees and bright flowers and fountains.
The horse's name was Prince," and he was gentle
and liked to trot very fast. When we went home we
saw eight rabbits and two fat puppies, and a nice little
white pony, and two wee kittens, and a pretty curly dog
named "Don." Pony's name was "Mollie," and I had
a nice ride on her back; I was not afraid. I hope my
uncle will get me a dear little pony and a little cart very
soon.
Clifton did not kiss me, because he does not like to
kiss little girls. He is shy. I am very glad that Frank
and Clarence, and Robbie and Eddie, and Charles and
George were not very shy. I played with many little
girls, and we had fun. I rode on Carrie's tricycle, and
picked flowers, and ate fruit, and hopped and skipped
and danced, and went to ride. Many ladies and gentlemen
came to see us. Lucy and Dora and Charles were born
in China. I was born in America, and Mr. Anagnos was
born in Greece. Mr. Drew says little girls in China
can not talk on their fingers, but I think when I go to
China I will teach them. Chinese nurse came to see me;
her name was Asin. She showed me a tiny atze that
very rich ladies in China wear, because their feet never
grow large. Amah means a nurse. We came home in
horse-cars, because it was Sunday, and steam-cars do
not go often on Sunday. Conductors and engineers do


get very tired and go home to rest. I saw little Willie
Swan in the car, and he gave me a juicy pear. lie was
six years old. What did I do when I was six years old?
Will you please ask my father to come to train to meet
teacher and me ? I am very sorry that Eva and Bessie
are sick. I hope I can have a nice party my birthday,
and I do want Carrie and Ethel, and Frank and Helen
to come to Alabama to visit me.
With much love and thousand kisses.
From your dear little daughter,
HELEN A. KELLER.

When I last heard of little Helen, she was in her
own happy home, in the sunny South. There we
will leave her, with many wishes for her future wel-
fare, and hopes that she may yet be gratified in
her great desire: I do want to learn much about
everything."
Miss Sullivan says that it is a pleasure to teach
so apt, so gentle and intelligent a pupil; but while
Helen is dependent upon others for all the les-
sons which the Eye and Ear schoolmistresses
have failed to teach her, does she not give the
world, in return, a very wonderful and beautiful
lesson ?
I think that old and young alike may learn
much from the daily life of little Helen Keller.


A LAWN PARTY.


843











AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.

A SUMMER VACATION ALONG THE CORAL-REEFS OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA.

BY CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER.


CHAPTER IX.

FOR an instant Tom was lost to sight, but he
soon reappeared, rope in hand, now under water
and now above, rushing at railway speed behind
his strange steed, which was plowing along and
snorting like a grampus.
Hang on, Tom; don't let go! shouted the
boys. "We'll pick you up."
Tom, who was an excellent swimmer, soon
placed himself upon the surface and enjoyed the
sport, an occasional cheer testifying that he was
all right. The boys at once put out the oars, but
though they gave way with a will, they were quickly
left far behind. The big fish was headed toward
the shoal and the Professor, seeing that it would
probably turn, tried to head it off. Tom occa-
sionally attempted to check his mad charger by
striking the bottom with his feet and holding back,
but his efforts were useless; he was dragged ahead
again and, when the fish turned suddenly, it be-
came evident that he must either catch hold of the
boat or abandon his prize.
Catch the boat as you go by," shouted Bob.
On they came. The shark went faster still as
he saw the boat, which was now moving in the
same direction. A few moments more and Tom
was alongside, four or five strong arms hauled
him aboard, and the Professor, who was in the
bow, took the line (to which Tom still clung) and
made it fast.
All hands now hauled on the line and the boat
was soon directly over the big fish. After so
brave a fight, he was beginning to show signs of
fatigue. The Professor sent his grains into the
shark's head, and with a few sturdy splashes the
monster finally gave up the struggle and was soon
towed to the beach, dead.
Well," said Tom as he leaped ashore, that's
the queerest ride I ever had. What a story to tell
the fellows at home !- eh, boys ?"
The shark was found to be ten feet six inches
long, and the Professor, cutting open the stomach,
showed that it contained sea-weed, holothurians,
and the remains of sea-urchins.
. "It is too sluggish to catch fish," the Professor


explained, "and prefers to root for food, as the
pigs do."
Leaving the shark to the crabs, intending to
return at another time to secure the curious hinge-
shaped jaw, the boats pulled for the fort, where
they arrived in good time.
Next morning, with plenty of bait aboard, they
pushed for the fishing grounds near Sand Key.
Nearing the middle buoy, the boat rounded to,
the killock was dropped, the sprit unshipped, and
then the mast, also, and soon all hands were ready
for fishing. The lines were somewhat smaller
than cod-lines, but very strong, the sinker being on
the end and the hook about four to six inches from
it. Tom Derby had his line over first, and con-
sequently was the first to lose his bait. Then
Douglas gave his line a tremendous jerk and said,-
"Heigh-ho! I 've caught something!"
The fish tugged and so did Douglas. At last,
winding the line around his wrist, he managed to
start the fish, and, after a splendid fight, flung his
" catch" into the boat. It proved to be a reddish
brown and yellow fish, with an enormous open
mouth.
"A grouper," announced Professor Howard.
"That's a good catch, Douglas, and worth the
fight."
Before the grouper-a member of the Perch-
family-was off the hook, Vail had another, and
then the bites came thick and fast. Soon Bob
Carrington was hauling in, hand over hand. I
must have caught a ball of cord," he said.
There was no pulling; the fish came in as a
dead-weight, and in a moment Bob had drawn up
and lifted into the boat something that looked
precisely like a porcupine and was quite as large.-
Hey, don't put him near me," cried Ramsey,
drawing up his legs.
"What is it?" said Raymond.
Is he dead?" asked Eaton.
"It 's a porcupine fish--the Diodon," said
Professor Howard, "and a big fellow, too."
The boys danced around in a lively manner to
keep out of the prickly fellow's way.
"Good gracious, he 's growing larger," an-
nounced Tom. Give him room "





AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


Indeed, the fish was swelling, and in a few min-
utes was much larger, and as round as a ball.
He 'd be a nice customer to meet if you were
in swimming," said Bob.
Ludlow now landed a beautiful fish with silvery
sides and yellow fins. The Professor said it was
sometimes called a "yellow-tail."
Soon Raymond flung into the boat a hideous-
looking brown fish. Well, he 's a beauty !" cried
Bob, inspecting the new-comer.
That 's a jew-fish," said Professor Howard.
" And if you hook another, see that it does n't
pull you overboard. Sometimes they are very
large."
The fishing went on with the best possible luck
until, suddenly, Ramsey felt a quick tug on his
line, and, hauling up, found that both hook and
sinker had disappeared.
That is the work of sharks," Professor Howard
declared. You m'ay as well haul up now, for
they will take all your hooks and drive the other
fish away."
The lines were drawn up, the sail shaken out,
and they were soon drifting down the channel.
What a queer cloud that is," said Bob, point-
ing to the west.
It was a low, black cloud, toward which an arm
seemed reaching up from the water.
"It 's a water-spout," said the Professor, "and
there 's another ahead of us. See how it creeps
down and joins the column that meets it from be-
low. There they go "
The two columns had formed and were moving
along to the east, dead ahead. Then one crossed
the bows of the boat, and the boys could hear its
roar as it passed them, its upper end lost in the
clouds. It was soon gone, and they were propor-
tionately relieved, for, as Douglas said, "it
would n't do us any good to have too close an ac-
quaintance with that fellow."
As they neared the North Key, Long John came
alongside in the dinghy and informed them that
they were over some excellent fishing-grounds.
He had but made the statement when, as if in
proof, a school of mullets jumped from the water
directly ahead, followed by a monster fish that
evidently landed among them all, judging from
the subsequent confusion.
S" It 's a barracuda," said Long John, in a hoarse
whisper, picking up his grains and signaling the
boys to stop. The boys backed water, and in a few
moments were rewarded by an exhibition of the
boatman's skill with the grains. He turned the
dinghy's bow so as to have the sun in the fish's
eyes, and, throwing over some fifteen feet'of a
line with a white rag attached at the end, he sculled
slowly and noiselessly ahead with his left hand,


while in his right he balanced the long and slen-
der spear. Not a motion did he make, but stood
so still and rigid that he and the boat seemed one.
He had moved along in this way almost a hun-
dred yards, when he suddenly ceased sculling, and
raising the spear with both hands, he hurled it in
a graceful curve some twenty feet astern. As it
left his hands, he pulled in the oar with a jerk,
threw over the coil of line attached to the grains,
and made ready for the struggle. For the big
fish, having sighted the rag and followed it out of
curiosity, was well caught. As the grains struck,
the handle came from the socket, and off darted
the barracuda, making the line whistle through the
water and the foam fly in a manner that showed
he was a game fish.
The boys bent to their oars and were soon near
the dinghy. It was dancing around in the liveliest
fashion. Now the fish would dart under the boat,
bringing the rail down to the water's edge, and
then, as suddenly, would leap high in air, trying by
convulsive shocks to rid himself of the cruel steel.
But all to no purpose. Long John played the line with
a master-hand, slackening when the rushes were
too violent, and taking in the slack when the line
relaxed. Finally, when the boys thought he must
be entirely worn out by his exertions, Long John
rapidly hauled in the line as the fish came toward
him with a rush, and with a sudden dexterous
twist threw it over the fore rowlock. Almost be-
fore they knew it, the fish was hard and fast along-
side, held in place by the line and only able to
move ahead with the boat, which he did vigor-
ously. Long John now put out his oar and, by
steering with it, caused the fish to move them
toward the Key. He was literally making the big
fish tow him ashore, and this skillful completion
of the capture caused shouts of admiration from
the boys, who were pulling after him. Before
many minutes the two boats together ran upon the
white beach of the Key. Long John took a turn
with the grains-line around his wrists, and with a
quick jerk landed the big barracuda and left him
floundering upon the sandy shore.

CHAPTER X.

"WHAT a noble catch he is! said Douglas, as
the boys gathered around Long John.
How fast do you think they went, Professor?"
asked Vail.
"Well, we can only tell by comparison," replied
Professor Howard. The salmon travels at a rate
reckoned at forty feet a second-or about half a
mile a minute. The barracuda is even better fitted
for speed than the salmon, having a long, pointed
head, narrow, oval body, powerful and rakish-


845





AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


looking fins. From what we have just seen, I
should estimate that it could travel one hundred
feet to the second, or considerably over a mile a
minute."
"Well, he 's a gamer fish than the trout, is n't
he ?" said Tom.
"Oh, yes!" replied the Professor. "Barra-
cuda-fishing heads the list of hand-fishing sports
and requires an amount of skill and patience that
but few fishermen possess."
After Long John had put an end to the fish,
cleaned it, and stowed it away under a piece of
sail, the party started over the beach to explore
what they could of the island, part of which was
evidently under the water.
North Key," said the Professor, may be con-
sidered the last of the chain of islands in the waters
of the Florida Reef. There is, as you see, no man-
grove growth here- owing, perhaps, to the strong
winds which prevent the seeds from taking root,
and, besides, the winter northers sweep the ridge
raised by the summer trades, and level it so that
for several months in the year it is entirely under
water."
A few mornings after this excursion, the expe-
dition under Long John's guidance was making a
run across to East Key, some eight miles from the
fort. The morning was delightful. The sky was
richly tinted with crimson from the rising sun
that seemed reflected everywhere. Shoals of fishes
sprang from the water. Dark-hued rays darted
aside in graceful curves, the musical cry of the
laughing-gull sounded above, and every living
thing seemed enjoying the beautiful morning.
They rapidly crossed the channel, by Sand and
Middle Keys, and in an hour were on the great
reef that surrounded East Key. The wind had
died away entirely, and a dead calm left the sails
hanging straight and lifeless.
"Well," said Professor Howard, I 'm afraid
we shall have to pull for it. But it 's only about
three miles to the Key, and, by working slowly
along, we may pick up some fine specimens."
Long John, who was sculling the dinghy along-
side, kept 'pace with the larger boat, and his
watchful eye saw many a choice specimen that
their inexperienced eyes would have overlooked.
The water was about fifteen feet deep and so clear
that the smallest shells could easily be seen from
above as the boats drifted leisurely along.
See these angel-fishes. How like they are to
birds," said Professor Howard, pointing to a
number of them gliding in and out among the
coral branches. They sweep down, a score at a
time, as if they were a flock of birds-of-paradise;
and there is a parrot-fish -a Scarus. Steady a
moment! "


The boat stopped, and the boys saw a large blue
and green fish colored like a peacock rise from the
lower edge of the coral branches, evidently feed-
ing from them.
He is breaking off the tips of the coral," said
Tom.
"Exactly," said the Professor. "He belongs
to a coral-eating family, and that is just. what I
wished you to see. He has jaws of solid enamel
especially adapted for the purpose."
The parrot-fish, when captured, struggled val-
iantly, his brilliant colors flashing in the sun, and
his beautiful eyes were fixed upon them, appar-
ently begging for pity.
It seems too,bad to kill this beautiful creature,"
said Douglas.
But one may be spared for a specimen," said
the Professor, preparing the fatal alcohol. Then
he showed the boys how wonderfully the saws of
the scarus were adapted for'grinding coral. The
teeth, they noticed, were incorporated with the
bone, and grew crowded together in groups of
five. The jaws worked backward and forward,
and for this reason the' Romans thought it a fish
that chewed a cud.. The fish, at that time, was
in great demand for the table, and was thought to
possess powers of speech, and to be able to release
its friends from nets. -
"No wonder they are named after the parrot,"
said Vail; they are like them in color and in
beak."
"There goes a beautiful fish," said Douglas,
pointing to a yellow one with blue stripes and a
black spot on its tail.
"It is one of the Chaetodons," said Professor
Howard; "they are so evenly balanced that it is
difficult to distinguish the heads from the tails.
They are commonly called 'four-eyes.' "
"It 's a good name for them," said Ramsey,
having hurled his grains ineffectually. They are
too keen-sighted to be caught."
Here a shout from Long John, who had sculled
ahead, drew their attention, and pulling up to him
they found that he had seen a rare shell--a
" queen conch" or Cassis. It lay at the bottom
of a shelving bank among some large shrub-corals.
The great matted mollusk seemed almost elephan-
tine as it glided along the smooth surface, its
large proboscis, like the trunk of an elephant, ex-
tending far before it. Its mound-like shell seemed
covered with a checkered cloth; and, indeed, this
is the soberest part of the Cassis, the gorgeous col-
orings being upon the under surface or shield-like
face which drags over the mud.
Tom Derby, who stood on the bows of the boat
swaying to. and fro, suddenly tumbled over into
the gulf. As the ripples cleared the boys could


846


[SEPT.






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


847


see him far below, peering cautiously among the He began to prepare for camping without delay.
coral branches. Bob Carrington plunged in after As they shoved ashore, innumerable bright-colored
him, and soon both boys had deposited the great crabs were seen to run up the beach and suddenly
conch in triumph into the boat. It proved a grand disappear.
specimen for the aquarium. The great conches, Spirit-crabs !" announced the Professor; but
when in the cabinet or on the mantel, are hand- it seemed an inappropriate name for these singu-
some; but they are perfect marvels of beautiful lar, square-bodied creatures, which were of the
coloring when first taken from the water, same color as the surrounding sand, into which


THE PARROT-FISH.


Thus drifting along, the boats soon reached the
island--the coral-bed, over which they had been
passing, coming to a sudden end a hundred yards
from the beach and giving place to a clear, pearly,
sandy bottom.
"Give way with a will!" said the Professor,
clapping his hands. The oars bent in the water
and, with a rush, the boat was sent high on shore,
where all speedily hauled her above high-water
mark. Long John took out the sails to rig up a
tent, the hamper and the frying-pan followed after.


they burrow quickly, sallying out by hundreds,
when danger is past, to feed on whatever is washed
ashore.
Tom had heard a story of some pirates' gold
being buried on East Key long ago, and his curi-
osity was roused.
I believe I '11 take a look for that gold," he
said.
"We must all go, then," said the Professor,
laughing and setting off at a run. As the near-
est way to the east shore was through the brush,





848 AMONG THE F

they ran toward an opening, arid struck into it in
Indian file at a slower pace. The bushes were
low and thickly tangled, and it proved hard work
to push through. Hermit-crabs hung on the
branches and the sand was so undermined by
land-crabs that the walking was uncertain.
"Here's an opening," cried Eaton, and, with
much satisfaction, they were just about to pass
through when, with a great rustling, seven or eight
large flamingoes rose in air just before them. Tom,
with ever-ready gun, blazed away at them, and
brought one down; it fell like a rocket-stick on
Bob's head. The great bird was uninjured, except
that its wing was broken, and Bob found it no mean
antagonist, receiving several hard blows from its
blunt bill before he could grasp the snake-like
neck. Finally, however, he secured the bird by
the neck and legs, and the party moved on to the
beach.
Don't flamingoes build nests like mounds?"
inquired Woodbury.
"Yes," replied Professor Howard, "they make
a high nest, like a column, and stand over it when
laying."
As they came upon the beach Professor How-
ard, shaking the mangrove-leaves from his coat,
said, with a laugh, Now, Tom, here is a half-
mile of sand to turn over. If you expect to find
the pirates' gold before night, you'd better begin.."
Tom thought the prospects scarcely promising.
I guess I 'd rather take a swim," he said.
This suited the rest, also. Long John, who had
just rowed around in his dinghy, hauled it up
on the beach, and he and the Professor threw
themselves on the sand, while the boys went into
the water. The beach shoaled off here, as on the
other side, with a hard coral bottom, coming to
the living coral about a hundred feet off shore.
All the boys had become expert divers from con-
tinued practice, and now arranged themselves in a
row, four or five feet distant from one another, in
order to see which of the party could swim farthest
under water.
"Are you ready?" said the Professor.
"All ready, sir," they replied.
"Well, then,-go! he called; and at the
word go," the row of boys disappeared beneath
the blue waters in a simultaneous dive. Half a
minute brought most of the swimmers to the sur-
face for breath, but Tom Derby, Vail, Woodbury,
and Eaton, still kept under. Fully thirty seconds
after the other three boys came to the surface,
Tom's head appeared quite near to the coral belt.
His victory was hailed with cheers, but instead of
striking out for shore he gave a terrible scream,
for an instant seemed trying to tear something
from his body, and then sank out of sight.


CHAPTER XI.

As Tom disappeared beneath the waves, the
boys, speedily recovering from their first surprise
and fright, struck out in a body for the scene of
danger. But Long John and the Professor were
already in the dinghy, and -with a few powerful
strokes passed the swimmers and reached the spot
just as Tom appeared at the surface.
"A man-o'-war stung him exclaimed Long
John.
"Keep back, boys i" cried Professor Howard,
waving the swimmers away, and together he and
Long John lifted the apparently lifeless body into
the boat.
Poor. Tom presented a terrible appearance.
Upon his arms and the upper part of his body a
blue jelly-like mass of tentacles had fastened them-
iselves, and seemed eating into the flesh.
Long John seized the boat-sponge and rubbed
off the slimy mass, while the Professor forced a
restorative down Tom's throat. The greater part
of the blue slime was soon washed off, and then
Long John, taking his knife, scraped the skin as
hard as he dared. A bottle of oil was poured over
the poisoned parts and brought much relief to
Tom, who began to show signs of returning con-
sciousness.
An hour later, as he lay oi the shore, under
the shade of the mangroves, weakbut compara-
tively comfortable, he said, in reply to a question
from Long* John:
"I came up right under it. I felt as if I had
fallen into the fire. And then I must have fainted
away."
You're all right now, though," said Long John.
"You '11 recover from it. I was caught in the
same way myself once."
Here 's what did it, Tom," said Bob Carring-
ton, holding up a stick upon which hung something
that looked like a bubble attached to a long mass
of blue streamers.
"What is it, Professor?" Tom asked.
It is the Physalia, or Portuguese man-o'-war,"
replied the Professor. It is one of the most
beautiful of all marine animals, and at the same
time, as you can testify, Tom, one of the most
dangerous. It is a mere bubble that floats on the
water, dragging these tentacles after it. They are
covered with minute cells, and when touched throw
out millions of barbed darts, carrying with them
the blue poison which, as you see, has covered
poor Tom's arms as with a net-work."
"Why do they call them 'men-o'-war,' Profes-
sor ?" Woodbury inquired.
"Because this membrane on the top ean be
spread out by the animal, and, when the wind


'LORIDA, KEYS.


[SEPT.






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


catches it, the Physalia bowls along like a man-o'-
war under full sail," the Professor explained.
"Some men-o'-war blow up," said Long John,
"and so does this!" and giving the Physalia a
blow, he exploded Tom's uncomfortable assailant,
which burst with a loud report.
"Those tentacles into which Tom ran," con-
tinued the Professor, can be lengthened or drawn
up at will. They are the fishing-lines of the ani-
mal. When a fish touches them he is killed as by
an electric shock, and then hauled in among the
tentacles nearer the body and absorbed."
They sat for a long time in the shadow of the
mangroves, discussing the Physalia and other
curious and kindred forms, until Long John told
them that the night camp was ready. By this
time Tom being able to walk without help (though
he carried the marks of his singular encounter
for fully a year after), the whole party left for
the camp, where an excellent supper of turtle
meat, gull's eggs, and fried grouper awaited
them. After watching the rich tropical sunset,
the mainsails and foresails were unshipped with
the masts, and hung over the bushes for a shelter,
as they had concluded to pass the night on the
Key. Before this impromptu tent had been ar-
ranged, it was eight o'clock. It was a fine night,
and a slight breeze rolled gentle waves upon the
sands with a musical intonation.
The party were stretched on the beach, which
was still warm with the sun's rays, when the curious
appearance of the water attracted their attention.
Wherever a wave broke, or threw off its pearls
of spray, the water, as if by magic, assumed a
ghostly, cream-like tint; and as the night grew
darker the entire sea glowed with a moving, golden
light. Waves of fire broke upon the beach, drops
of liquid flame hung upon the bits of coral or
dripped from them like streams of molten lava.
"There is an 'uncommon sight," said Professor
Howard, rising and walking toward the water.
Soon the whole party was wading in what seemed
to be a gleaming sea of fire that fairly blazed at
every step; and, as they walked along, splashing the
water right and left, the effect was indescribable.
Professor Howard now proposed that they row
South to study this phenomenon. The rowboat was
shoved off, and, jumping aboard, they pulled out-
ward through a blaze of fire that, with every dip
of the oars, seemed, as Vail said, "to light up the
sea all around."
Taking a tall specimen-glass, Professor Howard
filled it from the sea of fire, and placed it on a
thwart where all could see it.
Now you can see what makes the light," he
said, pointing out numbers of round animalcule.
"They are minute jelly-fishes called Noctiluca;
VOL. XVI.-54.


the light probably comes from a fatty substance
they secrete. See how the light changes. Some-
times you catch a blue or yellow gleam, and then
it deepens to a rich green."
Here is something that looks like a red-hot
moon," said Woodbury, who was leaning over the
side. The boat had now drifted out over the coral
into thirtyfeet of water; and, following Woodbury's
gesture, they saw a most beautiful object. Far
below them appeared an oblong body of the most
vivid brightness. Now it seemed to glow with a
golden yellow, and then it changed to blue, orange,
and white. So powerful was the light that for
many feet around a bright halo lighted up the
water. The boys were speechless with admira-
tion. The object was slowly coming nearer; a
school of sardines darted by like shadowy ghosts,
their delicate forms showing almost as clearly as
if in the noonday sun.
Professor Howard broke the surprised silence of
his pupils, It is the Pyrosoma," he said. Then,
carefully inserting his large glass in the water, he
dexterously caught the blazing animal and placed
it in the boat.
You need no gas when you have these lamps,"
said Hall, laughing. Indeed, the faces of all in
the boat were illuminated as by a strong light,
and Eaton easily read a line or two from a news-
paper he had in his pocket and, passing it around,
enabled all the group to say that they had read by
the light of an animal.
This Pyrosoma is in fact a colony of simple
ascidians," said the Professor. It is made up of
thousands of animals allied rather to the worms
than to the mollusks. The colony or house is,
as you see, cylinder-shaped, and ordinarily moves
in the direction toward which its closed end is
pointed."
This curious living cylinder was some two inches
long, by four in circumference, and open at one
extremity, and the boys were greatly interested in
the Professor's explanation of the structure of so
singular a light-house of the sea.
The boat slowly drifted to shoal water again,
and now the scene below them was still more ani-
mated. Here a small Pyrosoma was.moving about
in a basin formed of leaf and branch corals, throw-
ing a beautiful light among the branches, lighting
up the homes of the Zoophytes, and making the
fishes cast dark shadows. Scores of delicate Me-
dusce moved up and down, or in and out, with as
many different motions, each gleaming with a sub-
dued, steady light.
"They are like satellites revolving around a
larger planet, are they not? said the Professor.
" They may well be called the lighf-houses of the
sea, as one of you suggested."


'889.]


849






AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS.


The bottom of the ocean looks as if it were a
view through some wonderful kaleidoscope," said
Ramsey.
But what is that ?" inquired Ludlow, pointing
toward an irregular piece of brilliancy? resting on
the sand.
Touch it with the grains, Bob," said Professor
Howard; I can not make it out exactly."
Bob Carrington carefully touched the luminous
object with the spear tips. It bent away and seemed
to glow with fresh vigor.
"Why, it is a gorgonia-a sea-fan," the Pro-
fessor announced. "I have read that they were
phosphorescent, but have never observed it."
Taking the grains from Carrington, he struck
at the root of the gorgonia, and wrenched it from
the bottom. Then, bringing it to the surface, he
held it where they could see and admire the rich,
golden-green light it gave out. The gorgonia
was formed like a net-work- or reticulated, as it
is called and the little interstices seemed to
form darker spots which, as the fan moved to and


fro, appeared to cause a change of color. Waves
of green and yellow, in various shades, followed
each other over their surfaces at every moment.
On some heads ofporites, a kind of coral, several
small, stationary spots were observed which Profes-
sor Howard thought might come from the Pholas,
a boring bivalve, and said to be a light-giver.
And thus, surrounded by these wonderful crea-
tures, the boat floated along.
At last the Professor exclaimed, looking at his
watch by the light of the Pyrosoma that still
glowed luminously, "Why, I declare, boys, it is
twelve o'clock. We must return to our camp -
such as it is. Pull for our 'tent on the beach.' "
The boat was manned and the boys bent to
their oars, rowing their course silently through a
golden river of their own boat's making.
They were soon ashore, the light-givers were laid
aside for alcohol baths on the morrow, and, not
long after, the tired party were fast asleep and
rested quietly until morning on their mangrove
beds in the open air.


(To be continued.)


A STRANGE NIGHT-WATCHMAN.
A STORY OF NORTHERN INDIA.

BY DAVID KER.


SAFE at last! "
So fervently were the words pronounced that
one might well have expected to see the man who
uttered them dragging himself upon a rock out of a
raging sea, spurring his fainting horse into a broad
lake, just as the hot, stifling smoke of the burn-
ing prairie came sweeping around them, or darting
breathless through the gateway of an English fort,
to which he had been hunted by a score of yelling
Afghan robbers. But, on the contrary, the speaker
was alighting from a mud-splashed "dalk gharri"
(post-chaise) at the door of a handsome country-
house in one of the hill-districts of Northern India.
However, Mr. Tremmell had good reason to
speak as he did. Naturally a very nervous man,
and quite unused to Eastern traveling, he looked
upon all India as one great menagerie, with a
"ravening tiger" crouching behind every tree,
and a boa-constrictor, as long as a ship's cable,
hidden in every thicket. To add to his troubles,
he had just been staying with an old English
colonel, of the -th Bengal Native Infantry, who
was himself so fond of shooting that it never


occurred to him that another might not care so
much for the sport.
Accordingly, poor Mr. Tremmell was marched
out, night after night, into the most dangerous
parts of the jungle, and kept standing there in pitch
darkness, with his boots full of- ants, and half a
dozen big thorns running into him, expecting every
moment to be gobbled up at one mouthful by a
tiger, or a bear, or trampled by a wild elephant or
some other horrible creature, the very name of
which made him shiver. At last, after a week of
this torture, he felt that he must escape or die; so
hastily thanking the colonel for a most delightful
visit," he traveled as fast as he could go, to the
house of another friend, a day's journey farther
north. This friend, being a missionary, was not
likely to have either time or inclination for hunting
wild beasts.
All night long our unlucky hero was jolted and
bumped from side to side, as his rickety post-chaise
rumbled and tumbled along the break-neck moun-
tain roads, which (as any one who has tried them
will admit) provide uncommonly rough traveling.


850


[SEPT.






A STRANGE NIGHT-WATCHMAN.


But when he came up to the Mission House, a
little after sunrise, all his troubles were forgotten
in the joyful prospect of being for a while perfectly
secure. The Rev. Titus J. Romer and his three
bright-eyed boys came out to welcome their guest,
and marched him in to a very plentiful "chota
hazri" (little breakfast), to which the guest, relieved
from all fear that he himself might furnish a break-
fast for some hungry young tiger, did ample justice.
And what a delightful place the Mission House
was! The three or four enormous palms, that
overshadowed its low roof, kept it cool and com-
fortable, even under the burning heat of an Indian
sun, while close to the door a tiny river went dan-
cing and sparkling in the sunlight, seeming to make
everything fresh and green as it rippled on. Close
to the water's edge, a group of slim, brown, sharp-
featured Hindus, in white turbans and cotton trou-
sers, were smoking their long pipes beneath the
shade of a broad-leaved banana palm. All along
both banks of the river great clumps of feathery
bamboos, slender and elastic as monster fishing-
poles, rose fifty feet and more into the air.
The house stood upon high ground, and from
his comfortable rocking-chair in its broad, shady
veranda, Mr. Tremmell had a splendid view.
Miles away to the south loomed the grim, gloomy
hills over which he had been struggling all night.
Around him stretched a vast green plain, in the
center of which the white, flat-roofed houses of
the little district-town peeped through a mass of
dark, glossy leaves. High over all towered along
the northern sky a mighty wall of purple moun-
tains. Above these glittered, like frosted silver, the
eternal snows of the Himalayas.
"This is something like "muttered Mr. Trem-
mell that night, as he lay down to sleep in a cool,
well-aired bedroom looking out upon the river.
"Here, at least, I shall have a chance of being
quiet, instead of having the very life worried out of
me with that wretched hunting! If that's to be
the way of it, one might as well be the keeper of
a zoological garden; but, by good luck, here
there are no tigers, no bears, no wild elephants,
and above all, no snakes! "
Poor Mr. Tremmell! he was rejoicing too soon.
'Scarcely had the word "snakes" left his tongue,
when he caught sight of something moving upon
the floor. It glistened in a curious way, like the
reflection.of a candle's flame upon a wet window-


pane. A second glance "brought his heart into
his mouth," as he saw a huge black-and-yellow
snake, more than six feet long, gliding out from
under the bed within a yard of the spot where
he sat !
To say that Mr. Tremmell was frightened would
be putting it mildly, indeed; for any sculptor in
search of a model for a statue of Horror would
have given all the money he had about him for one
glimpse of Mr. T.'s countenance at that moment.
So utterly was he scared that he sat stock-still,
with his head thrown back and his mouth wide
open, as if expecting the snake to jump right down
his throat -which, apparently, the snake might
easily have done without his stirring either hand or
foot to prevent it.
The serpent, on its part, seemed at a loss what to
make of him, and stared at him for some moments
without moving, till at last, as if tired of doing
nothing, it suddenly glided right toward him.
Then the spell was broken, and he sprang up with
a yell, compared to which the whoop of an Indian
"brave on the war-path would have been hardly
worth mention.
There was a clamor of voices, a tramp of hurry-
ing feet, and into the room burst Mr. Romer, his
three sons, and half a dozen Hindu servants. One
moment of bewilderment, and then came laughter
that seemed to shake the whole house.
"So sorry, my dear fellow," cried Mr. Romer;
"I really ought to have told you. That 's our
pet snake, 'Dickie.' He goes about at night to
catch mice and things of that sort. He 's one of
the kind they call 'house-snakes.' They are quite
harmless; and we find him very useful. Here,
Tom! put Dickie out on the veranda."
The boy picked up the snake as coolly as if it
had been a piece of rope, and marched off with
Dickie hanging over his arm like a shawl.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am that this
should have happened, Tremmell," said the mis-
sionary. "And I hope it won't spoil your visit,
I 'm sure."
It did spoil it, however, for Mr. Tremmell was
so thoroughly upset by his fright and the thought
of being laughed at by the boys (who seemed to
think the whole affair a capital joke) that he left
the house the very next day, declaring that "he
could stand anything in reason, but he could n't
stand a snake as a night-watchman."


85i








MOTHER GOOSE SONNETS.

** ^ BY HARRIET S. MORGRIDGE. -


"Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son, Stole a pig and away
he run." 71
HIs father was a man who used to pipe
A little lay upon a little flute,
And, in his way, a man of some repute;
But Tom, poor boy, was of a common type,
A lawless lad, we fear, for mischief ripe;
And so one day (the tale we can't dispute
Though we might be, 't is true, for Tom's sake,
mute)
He laid his hand with unrelenting gripe
Upon a pig, and then away he ran.
S Now listen to the moral of the tale:-
Golden Justitia overtook the lad,
And ate the pig; while on our little man
Fell blow on blow, until his lusty wail
Made all the tender hearted feel quite sad.


S "' "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a
pail of water."
AH, Jack it was, and with him little Jill,
Of the same age and size, a neighbor's
daughter,
Who on a breezy morning climbed the hill
To fetch down to the house a pail of water.
Jack put his best foot foremost on that -
day-
Vaulting ambition we have seen before -
S He stepped too far, of course, and soon he lay .
I. n the vile path, his little crown so sore!
The next act in the tragedy was played
By Jill, whose eager foothold, too, was brief.
Epitome of life, that boy and maid
*. Together hoped, together came to grief.
And in their simple story lies concealed
The germ of half that 's plucked in fiction's field.


S"Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat and the fddle."
IT was a very funny sight to see
Old Tabby play a jolly dancing tune
9 Upon the violin one afternoon;
Indeed, it quite upset the world with glee.
You should have been there in the company,
JT To see composed Old Brindle o'er the moon
Vaulting so lightly. Then a stiff old spoon
S Absconded with the gravy-dish, right free.
And how the dog did wag his merry tail!
Nay, 't is a fact, he burst into a laugh,
And made the welkin ring with his bright
Sbark.
S 'T was long ago, and oh 't was such a gale
W You can't expect me now to tell you half;
S But I would like again just such a lark.




















"There was a man in our town and he was
wondrous wise."

THERE was a man whose wisdom was immense,
He was our neighbor and we knew him well;
But after I his story to you tell,
Perhaps you '11 think him quite devoid of sense,
And if you do I shall not take offense.
This man was on a walk and jumping, fell
Into a sprawling bramble-bush, pell-mell.
He scratched out both his eyes, but accidents
Will happen," and this fall was nothing more.
And now he had no eyes, but he had sight!
The paradox, however, I '11 explain:
'T was foresight that he had, and as before,
He boldly made the fearful plunge again,
And, lo! the next time he came out all right.

"Little Miss Mufet sat on a tufet
Eating of curds and whey."

THERE was a maid, Miss Muffet was her name,
As maidens do, she liked her curds and whey;
And so, one sunny beautiful June day,
She sallied forth to eat them. What a shame! -
(Though for what followed she was not to blame.)
She chose a spot where one would like to stay,
A mossy knoll, all decked in green array,
And then she said, I am so glad I came."
Into the luscious cup she dipped her spoon,
A horrid spider crept from out his lair;
"Oh! Oh! she screamed and ran away (Was 't
wise ?)
Nor came she back in all that afternoon;
Though 't was a spot as sweet as it was fair,
But for the spider's trail, a Paradise !

"This little pig went to market. This
little pig stayed at home."

A CERTAIN pig one morn to market went.
He was a pig whose taste it was to roam.
A brother pig, I wot of, stayed at home.
He, smoking by the fire, followed his bent;
Another pig was, I am sure, content
To sup on sweets sweeter than honey-comb,
On nectar made of cream whipped to a foam;
While to another naught but husks were sent.
The fifth pig in our history was one
Who cried, Wee, wee whatever was his fate,
Never did laugh and ne'er had any fun.
Ah! well, it takes all sorts of pigs to make
A world, and it takes, too, ev'ry estate; -
Let 's dance our jig in time, for pity's sake.













AN ARTIST'S GLIMPSE OF NORTHERN ARIZONA.


BY F. S. DELLENBAUGH.


WHILE in Paris, a few years ago, I received a
pressing invitation to join a friend in an expedition
to the northern part of Arizona, and decided to
accompany him, both to see the country and also
to study the natives as material for pictures. I had
an impression, from a previous trip to this region,
that there was in it much that would be pictorially
interesting. My trunk was, therefore, carefully
packed for a long stay, and my color-box and can-
vases were made ready.
After a journey of three or four weeks, I
stepped from the train at Fort Wingate, New
Mexico, where my friend's party was encamped.
The change from the boulevards to the wilder-
ness, it is perhaps needless to say, was complete;
but I enjoyed the contrast, though the sand flew
before a blinding gale and the tents tugged at
their ropes as if about to fly away. After some
weeks in the San Francisco mountains and the
Navajo country, I concluded to visit the Moki
Towns, or the Province of Tusayan," as the re-
gion was called by the early Spaniards. At first
I had thought of spending my time at Zuiii, which
was more accessible, but at length I concluded that
the very remoteness and isolation of the Moki
towns should determine me, for they were sure to
preserve more originality than the Pueblos, which
had known more than three centuries of contact
with Spaniards and Mexicans.
I started, therefore, from Fort Defiance, the
Navajo Agency, on a buckboard, with a Mormon
boy as a helper, and, traversing about eighty miles
of desert country occupied entirely by Navajos, I
arrived late one afternoon at a comfortable estab-
lishment in a narrow cation. Three or four springs
gushing from the rocks near by made an oasis in
the expanse of sterility. This was the trading-
post of Mr. Thomas Keam, and the only abode of
white men in this region. Mr. Keam cordially
welcomed me, and here a party was made up to
visit the nearest Moki towns, some thirteen miles
away. Descending the cation we soon came to
its opening, where the sandstone walls break away
to north and to south, and emerged upon a sparsely
vegetated rolling plain, treeless and rugged. To the
northward and westward it was shut in by tall cliffs
About six miles distant. To the southward it was
bounded by an ominous line of black, volcanic


peaks known as the "Moki Buttes," but to the
south-westward it extended farther to meet the blue
San Francisco mountains on the distant horizon.
When we had advanced well into this plain we
began to see Moki corn-fields, and, as we drew
nearer to the mesa, or cliffs in the west, these corn-
fields abounded on; every hand. Yet I could dis-
cover nowhere a sign of the habitations of the
people to whom they must belong. Presently, my
attention was directed to some irregularities, just
discernible on the summit of the most prominent
cliff before us, and I-was assured that these were
the first three towns of the province, bearing re-
spectively the names of Tewa, Cichumovi, and
Wolpi. As we came nearer, we could distinguish
them more and more clearly, till at last they were
quite plain to our eyes. Even when we were close
to the base of the cliff, they appeared almost like
a continuation of the rugged, vertical rocks, though
the occasional shouts of children and the barking
of dogs came down to us from those barren rocks,
seven hundred feet above our heads.
Arriving at a sheltered nook among huge fallen
bowlders, where a peach-orchard grew out of the
deep sand, we halted, and for a trifle bought from
the old woman on guard all the peaches we could
eat,. the trees being loaded with the ripe fruit.
Then for a time we reclined in the shade, taking a
short rest preparatory to making the ascent.
The sand was so deep that stepping-stones had
been laid across where the trail led to the vertical
portion of the heights, and these led to a good
though steep path, wrought diagonally upward
along the beetling face of the rocks. As we
climbed, the horizon widened andwidened; bushes
in the valley, the peach-trees, the broken rocks,
dwindled to mere specks. As far as the eye could
reach, a land of desolation, apparently boundless,
lay stretched out under the burning sun. Leagues
away, the waves of civilization are advancing
toward the valley, but we heard no sound of them
there. The life of another race and of another
time pervades the air-we are out of the world.
Another language startles the ear, and curious
customs, familiar to this people for untold ages,
surprise the sight.
Puffing with the exertion of climbing the steep
ascent, we arrived at the summit and found Tewa,






AN ARTIST'S GLIMPSE OF NORTHERN ARIZONA.


the first town, at our right. The entrance to the
house of Tom Polakika, a prominent citizen, known
to us, was near. Polakika's wife, a comely. Tewa
woman, cordially invites us to enter, for these peo-
ple are hospitable and polite. Scarcely were we
seated in an inner room lighted by high, small
windows, adorned by green calico curtains, when
Mr. Polakika himself, a Moki gentleman, who had
traveled even as far as California, returned from a
neighboring village and gave us hearty greeting,
at the same time hastening to set before us two
of his best watermelons.
After walking out to Wolpi, which is perched
on the extreme point of the narrow cliff or prom-
ontory,- the upper surface is nowhere more than
a hundred yards wide,--we returned to Tewa, and
Polakika's wife escorted us over housetops and
up various ladders against the walls, that answer
for stairs, to show such quarters as I might occupy
during my contemplated sojourn in the province.
Reaching a sort of balcony before the topmost
structure, she threw open a small doorleading into
a room half-full of corn. The ceiling, or roof, was
so low that I could stand upright only between
the rafters; but, as there was a fireplace in one
corner and a little window, and we were told the
place could be easily made clean for my use, I
engaged the flat for five dollars a month, wood
and water included. As the wood comes from
several miles away, and the water is brought from
springs at the bottom of the cliff, the charge did
not seem excessive.
By the middle of October I was settled in my
apartment, thanks to the assistance of Mr. Keam,
who, since I khew neither the Moki nor the Na-
vajo language, and the Mokis speak no other,
kindly acted as interpreter for me. Then he de-
parted, leaving me to my own resources. My
Mormon helper had not been able to remain with
me, as had been planned, and I was left on the
mesa a lonely stranger among about six hundred
natives. I learned, however, that there was once
a white man who had lived in the next town for
.about five years, and who had been admitted to
many of the religious orders.
It was not long before I discovered a great obsta-
:cle to picture-making: the natives were so super-
stitious that they regarded my work as something
to be dreaded and refused to pose for me. I was
obliged to content myself with making studies of
houses and inanimate objects. As I had to do my
own cooking, my time was fully occupied from the
early morning, when my man Hoski who brought
my wood and water, burst through the door like a
thunderbolt, grinning at my sleepy surprise, till the
evening, when a curious group gave me the benefit
-of their society, and watched with great interest


my method of eating supper. Even from my bal-
cony I could see over everything in front; and,
ascending several steps, I was at the very top of
all, with a view limited only by the distant cliffs
and the broad horizon. A more magnificent place
in which to live could scarcely be imagined. I
used often to sit in my lofty perch and watch the
sunset fade, puzzling over the mysterious figures
which slipped about in the twilight. The silence
was broken only by a shrill "E-e-e-e-e (the sing-
ing of the girls grinding meal in a neighboring
house), or the "Sho-o-o I of some belated wood-
carrier driving his long-eared beast of burden up
the trail.
When darkness had fairly set in, as I have said,
a number of Moki men usually appeared for the
purpose of profiting by my supply of tobacco, and
of studying my various occupations, especially my
writing, an accomplishment which filled them with
unconcealed admiration and envy.
One of these, a young fellow who could speak
a few words of English, seemed to be intelligent
and full of common sense, and it occurred to me
that, if I could separate him from his companions,
I might in some way prevail on him to pose for me.
Having found in common use for killing game a
weapon like an Australian boomerang, called in
their language putch-kohu, or throwing-stick, I
thought the hurling of this implement would make
an interesting picture.
So I prevailed on Mose," as I called him, to
go with me back to Mr. Keam's trading-post; and
once there, I stretched a large canvas and drew
him on it, life-size. I admired the young fellow's
pluck in emancipating himself from the supersti-
tion of his race and congratulated myself upon
my success. But, alas! he soon came to me re-
questing to go back to his home in Cichumovi
for a day, to attend a dance. Aware of the use-
lessness of trying to prevent his leaving, I con-
sented, paid him the amount agreed upon--and
that was the last I saw of him for months. To
make matters worse and crush all hope of his ever
posing again, a friend, who met him one day on
the plain, warned him, as a joke, that I was on
his track with a shot-gun. He took the jest
seriously, and never ventured in the cation while
I was there.
In the illustration he is seen in the act of throw-
ing the putch-kohu; behind him are the remains
of ruined houses, of which there are many in the
country. The Moki Buttes are seen at the left,
and the first mesa can be distinguished in the dis-
tance. Unlike the Australian expert, the Moki
has not learned to cause the weapon to return.
The stick is cut out of the curve df an oak sapling,
is about two inches wide, a half-inch thick in the





AN ARTIST'S GLIMPSE OF NORTHERN ARIZONA.


A MOKI INDIAN THROWING THE PUTCH-KOHU.


middle, and twenty-four inches long. It is more
conveniently carried than the bow, which is also in
use. The stick is sometimes thrust through a
girdle at the waist, like a sword. Every shepherd
boy carries one, as he follows his flock across the


plain, and is quick to shy it at any game he may
encounter in his day's ramble.
They are an exceedingly interesting race, and
their life and ceremonies contain much that might
well be studied by artists.


FERN-SEED.

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.


LONGING for such delightful play,
Nan dropped her precious book, and mused
On that strange fern-seed fairies used
That they might pass, in the old day,
Invisibly upon their way.

She knew, of course, without a doubt,
That fern-seed made a mortal so
That he could come and he could go
Invisible to all about,
And no one ever find him out.


What pleasure she would take, for one,
That fern-seed found, Nan thought and sighed,-
Curls in a tangle, shoes untied,
The baby fretting for some fun,
Lessons unlearned, and sums undone !

What made Nan start then, who can tell,
And think what pleasure she might take,
Were there some fern-seed that could make,
By any sort of fairy spell,
Our faults invisible as well?


856

















BY F. H. THROOP.


I WISH I could tell this story to you as it was
told to me, by the light of a great log fire, making
ever-changing pictures on the rough walls around;
with the wind whistling outside; the low whine of
the dogs and the flash from the lantern in the ref-
uge tower startling you suddenly every now and
then, as it startled us that night on the mountain;
with "Turk's" skin beneath our feet, and his
photograph on the shelf above, how real it
would be to you! And how it all comes back to
me now--the grim old hospice of St. Bernard,
the quaint prints on the walls, the eager faces of
the group, and the fire-light. These surroundings
made the story very real; and before it was fin-
ished the young monk who repeated it buried his
face in his hands and shuddered. This was le
Pfre Joseph Luisier, the youngest and bravest of
all the brave monks of St. Bernard; and well he
may have shuddered, for he and a boy were the
only survivors of that terrible night. Turk saved
them, as Turk had saved many another-Turk,
the beautiful, brave St. Bernard dog.
Away up among the highest mountains of
Switzerland there is a narrow defile, or opening in
the solid mass of rock, leading from northern
Italy to the Rhone valley where the hills are cov-
ered with vineyards and the fields overflow with
corn and grain. For many centuries this pass has
been used by poor peasants, usually laborers on
foot who can not afford other means of crossing
the mountains. Unprepared for the difficulties of
a mountain climb, without much food, thinly clad,
wretched and ignorant, they start on a journey
which would often end in death, save for the char-
ity of a company of monks who devote their lives
to saving travelers.
In the monastery situated at the highest point
of the pass are fifteen or twenty Augustine monks,
most of them under thirty years of age; for after
fifteen years of service the severity of their duties
compels them to descend to a milder climate.
Their office is to receive and lodge strangers
"without money and without price," and to
render assistance to travelers in danger during
the. snowy season, which here lasts about nine
months. They are aided by the famous St. Ber-


nard dogs, whose keen scent enables them to dis-
cover travelers buried in the snow.
"Have you ever heard of Turk? I asked the
guide, a lank fellow in blue blouse and bonnet,
who was strapping upon my mule's back a heavy
woolen coat. He dropped the strap as I spoke
- his eyes filled with tears. I was two years at
the kennels, sir," he answered. Turk and I
were confrdres, and when he was gone I could not
longer stay. I act as guide to show visitors about
the place now and then. I can't go far away, but
I can't stay now Turk is no more. You know
the story, sir ? No? Well, they 'll tell it to you
there," and he pointed across the dreary waste.
We paused on our way, for a moment, at the
stone chAlets, where the monks make butter and
cheese for winter use- a true Alpine dairy, fresh,
neat, and clean. Here the road ends. We but-
toned our coats tightly and crossed the plain to
the dreary Valley of Death" beyond. The
sun was obscured; the cold was intense. From
the. great rocky basin in front of us there seemed
no escape. I wondered how our guide could pick
his way. Any of the opening paths about us
looked surer than the rough, winding one he
chose. As if answering my thought, he fell be-
hind the forward mule he was leading, and pointed
ahead to a jagged opening far up the ravine.
" That is our landmark. If we lose sight of the
further crag we might be lost. That is where Na-
poleon, crossing in 80oo with thirty thousand
men, nearly lost his life by the slipping of his
mule on the verge of the precipice. The mule fell
and was killed. Napoleon was saved only by his
guide, who caught him by the coat; and right
here, sir, is where they dismounted the cannon,
set them in the hollow trunks of trees, which half
of the soldiers dragged up the mountain, while
the other half carried the guns and luggage of
their comrades. Those were good old soldiers.
I wish they would come back again." He spoke
impatiently. Ah, sir I wish I could see the
world! I have never been beyond St. Pierre,
but I have crossed the pass to Aosta, and some
day I will go to Italy, if ever Napoleon passes this
way again." My heart was touched for this poor






THE STORY OF TURK.


peasant lad living all his life in the lonely valley,
with his hope for the future centered in the expec-
tation that Napoleon's army would pass that
way again I A little later we stopped by a heap
of stones. A wooden cross leaned from the center
and upon it was rudely cut the word "Turk."
"I did that," he said proudly. Turk is not
there, but the peasants are. This is where Turk
found them, and the veurra* caught the monks !'
Again I urged him to tell the story, but he de-
clined as before. Evidently the subject was too
painful. I must watch the path," he answered.
On we went, over ruts and stumps of fallen trees.
At last, hidden among great bowlders, we found
the pass, half choked with drifted snow in the
middle of July We crossed icy streams,--small
glaciers in their way, the frozen surface firm, while
water rushed beneath; scrambled over broken
masses of rock, hurled by some freak of nature from,
the heights above; and toiled up through ragged
defiles. Before long, turning a bend in the gorge,
we saw the monastery of St. Bernard-amass of
cold gray stone against the purple sky.
Unutterably lonely, weird, desolate among bare
rocks, ice-bound cataracts, and snow-crowned
mountains-we were chilled from head to foot in
July. What must it be in winter? At first,
it appeared like some ruined chateau. There were
beggars hanging on the outskirts, and paupers
gathered about the arched doorway; young Ital-
ians with their packs on their backs; mountaineers
returned from the hunt, with guns and game-bags ;
guides; young Englishmen "tramping it" through
the Alps; and wanderers like ourselves, all alike
welcomed by the great glowing lantern which shed
its rays far into the pass on both sides. I was not
astonished when the young priest told me, later,
that often they have lodged six hundred strangers
in a night under that hospitable roof.
Le Pere Joseph Luisier was in charge; a young
man full of life and energy in every line of the
figure draped in the long black cassock. He came
courteously forward to meet us. Had he been a
polished man of the world, receiving guests in his
home, he could not have welcomed us more gra-
ciously; and yet, as he did so, he had not an idea
where he should put us for the night. Asking us
to wait a moment, he went away with a perplexed
look, rubbing his chin. He soon returned, running
lightly down the stone stairs, three steps at a time,
like a boy. This quick step was characteristic,
as was also the laugh (the merriest I ever heard)
with which he explained his perplexities. It had
stormed steadily for two days; visitors had stayed
on; more had arrived, and some Italian priests on
their way to France were spending a few days.
Every nook and corner was full, but these priests


had offered us their apartments, and would lodge
with the Brothers. Thus it was arranged, and we
*found ourselves in the rooms of honor, comforta-
bly furnished, and with beautiful St. Bernard dog-
skin rugs on the floor. They sent us dry shoes
and clothing, offered us hot drinks, and right
royally received the American strangers.
After dinner the room was cleared, except for a
few of us around the flaming logs, listening to the
crackling of pine-cones within and. the roaring
wind outside, while Pere Luisier told of their win-
ter life, the dreariness of their lone vigils when
all the wayfarers are poor, the cold is intense,
the snow is at great depths, and fierce storms are
ever threatening their strong monastery.
"And our dogs? God bless them Why, with-
out them we should be helpless, indeed. Let in
the puppies, Jean. I must show these Americans
my jewels."
A figure moved from the dusky corner opposite,
and I recognized the admirer of Napoleon's army,
who returned in an instant with all the pride of a
full-blown soldier, bearing in his arms a mass of
down, which, upon being placed on the floor,
resolved itself into three great awkward puppies -
balls of yellow and white fur that rolled about
helplessly in the confused firelight or balanced
themselves on most unsteady-legs. The mother-
dog followed closely, a very intelligent animal,
with soft eyes and a gentle manner, crouching low
beside her master, or standing erect for service as
the call directed.
"We have waited for your coming to name
them, Jean," said Pere Luisier, affectionately lay-
ing his hand on the boy's sleeve, if-you like we
will call this fellow, 'Napoleon'" (the boy's idea
was not unknown,, then, to Pere Luisier), and he
laughed as he indicated a very round little pup
whose four paws were at that instant waving
heroically in space,-" and that brown one, the
boys ask to name Lon,' after our good Father
Morton,- and this ?"
The priest lifted up the smallest of the three.
Although the youngest, he bore an air of deter-
mined courage in his bright little eyes. The boy
hesitated.
"Father, I wish you would call him call
him "- their eyes met. The boy's lip trembled,
and seizing little Turk," he carried him from the
room. Pare Luisier rose abruptly.
"The boy almost unnerved me," he said. I
will return directly." And gathering the remain-
ing puppies in his arms, he retired, followed by
the majestic mother-dog. Presently he returned
loaded to the chin with fire-wood. "One must
not come empty-handed," was his reply, When we
remonstrated because of its weight. "That boy


* A whirlwind of the Alps which suddenly raises immense drifts of snow.


858


[SEPT.





z889.1 THE STORY OF TURK. 859































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T = ----~





._~~----- .. -- -"-



i,, ..,;:

!t!'i ,


ST. BERNARD DOGS.






THE STORY OF TURK.


Jean has taken a great fancy to you, sir," he added.
He wants me to tell about Turk, and I must have
a good fire before I begin, for it's a cold story at best.
This is Turk's skin, sir. I keep it here beside the
logs where he liked best to stay when off duty,
and this is his photograph, and this, his collar.
Turk died in harness, as, please the Lord will I."
He crossed himself, threw more pine-cones on
the fire, and began the story:
It happened two winters ago, on a night when
the wind had taken down every standing thing
about us, and only the hospice and monastery
remained. All day long I had heard the bowlders
rolling down the mountain-side; but the whirl of
snow was so blinding I could not see my hand
before my face. Still the sound was enough -I
knew the rocks never fell alone, and I prayed God
there might be no travelers on the pass that night.
Each day we visit the 'refuges.' You perhaps
noticed them, sir,- the stone huts along the pass.
They are kept open during the winter, a bed in'
each, a fire ready to light, food and brandy on the
shelf. Peasants who reach one can wait in com-
parative comfort till we come, and many are the
poor souls we find sheltered there. How do we
go? Simply enough-priests and dogs, hand in
hand, as it were. First in line, one of the dogs
leads, his 'barrel' attached to his collar, a coat
strapped on his back; a rope from his collar
passing through the strap, is tied about the waist
of the first Brother, on to the next behind until all
are attached in line of march. Sometimes there
are two, sometimes more, according to the diffi-
culties of the weather. Heavy rubber-coats lined
with fur, high boots, along spiked pole in the hand,
an axe and shovel strapped across the back, such
is the uniform of a St. Bernard monk on duty.
At daybreak we begin the descent, feeling our way
step by step, often stopping to cut a path through
a bank of snow and ice; and should the dog in
front disappear, falling suddenly forward, we know
there is a dangerous crevasse ahead, and, dragging
him out, we go on more cautiously.
"On that day it was my morning off duty; I
stayed in the library at work on my papers and
books; at noon the Piedmont party returned;
about two, I heard the call of the Valais men com-
ing up the pass; it was the 'distress cry,' and we
all hastened to help them in with two poor fellows
that they had found in the first refuge. The
priests had been told by them that they were
alone. But in the warmth of the fire, one began to
sob, confessing they had lied, and begging us to
save his brother. The truth was soon told, and
to our horror we found they were two from a party


offive, who had left St. Pierre the day before, and
been overtaken in the storm. There was no time
to be lost then,-no word of reproach was spoken
to the poor wretches who, to save themselves, had
concealed their comrades' fate. Father Leon and
I were the only men in the monastery who were
fresh and unwearied. It was folly for the others to
talk of joining us, and they soon gave up the idea.
All the dogs had been out often, too, and the day
had been unusually hard. We would not force
them out, but I went and stood a moment at the
kennel door. Turk instantly jumped to my side,
running to and fro from his harness to my feet,
and I knew he was ready and willing to go. Jean
was here in those days, and when he found Turk
was going, he begged to be of the party; I refused
once and again, but he loved Turk like a human
brother, and there was no keeping him back; he
was a strong lad, knowing every foot of the pass.
So it was not in my heart to refuse him, on the
Lord's errand, remembering the work we had in
hand, there being only two of us for the three
below there in the snow. Jean was ready on the
instant. And out we went into the blinding storm,
leaving the door just as the clock struck the half-
hour after two.
"It was terrible. Turk led the way, plowing
along like some great engine; I followed; Jean came
next, and Pere Lon last. We sank knee-deep, con-
stantly lost our footing completely in snow-drifts,
or found ourselves about to fall into some chasm,
from which we hauled one another. We were
three hours in reaching sight of the first refuge.
There was no building to be seen, but we knew the
direction, and turning off began to dig for our lives
into the great bank. The snow had ceased, the
air was clear and cold, darkness had overtaken us
and we were almost exhausted. Ah! that was
cheerless work, digging our way into the little hut,
but we were rewarded at last; Jean's shovel struck
the very door, and in a few minutes we were fan-
ning into flame the smouldering remains of the
morning's fire.
To find the travelers, get them to the refuge
that night, give them the care which alone could
save their poor half-frozen bodies-this was our one
thought. We waited onlyto get someof the numb-
ness out of our feet and hands, to rub up the lan-
terns, place a light on the bank outside, and then
were off again, this time even more cautiously than
before; for now we must swing the lanterns far out
to either side, push the snow to right and left, and
begin that dreary search which in its eager inten-
sity can never be described-and, thank Heaven!
there are few who know it from experience!"


* The monastery stands on a height, between Piedmont and Valais, cantons of Italy and Switzerland, the boundary being marked
by the national shields, cut in the rocks.


860


[ShPrT





THE STORY OF TURK.


Pere Luisier paused here; his strong face looked
gray in the firelight.
"Ah I it is so hard to tell these things; yet, if
the world knew more of what we suffer, it would
perhaps be more eager to send us the help we
:so much need.* But, enough-we found them.
Turk tracked them from the hut by scent, follow-
ing back the steps of the rescued ones, and not
far away they were lying just under the snow.
One was past help. The other two we carried to
the refuge, and when morning came they were
.able to take their coffee and start with the rest of us.
"We had gone perhaps amile, when we heard the
low rumbling and whirling of the wind among the
distant mountain peaks. Turk, who was in advance,
turned and slunk back, his tail between his legs,
his great head held low upon his shoulders, as I
have never seen dog do before or since; he trem-
bled all over with fear, and neither by coaxing nor
by threat could he be persuaded into the defile be-
fore Fs. Turk knows best,' said Jean, 'let us go
back to the refuge while there is time it may be
an avalanche or -or something worse !' None
of us dared to whisper 'a veurra!' but each
silently thought of that terrible wind, which comes
sweeping down the mountains, whirling rocks and
earth, man and beast into one horrible abyss,
and devastates the mountain as a cyclone does the
plain. We made what haste we could, but the noise
behind us grew in intensity, thundering from peak
to peak, and the air was full of sand and whirling
snow. In less time than I can tell it, we were
overtaken. I saw the peasants throw themselves
face downward; I sawFather L6on drop on his knees
in prayer ; I saw Turk leap forward, throwing Jean
to the ground and himself on the form of his pros-
trate master. Then I saw no more, for the snow
blinded me. I felt myself lifted from my feet and
dashed to earth, and then I knew the veurra was
upon us! Still I was not unconscious. I remem-
ber wondering why we were not borne away, as
was everything around us. I knew that I was con-
scious, and I knew that by some marvelous provi-
dence I had been saved from a horrible death. I
tried to move, but I found myself lying under a
narrow ledge of rock; the snow was packed tightly
around me; at each movement I could feel it fall
more closely about me, and I knew that unless I
lay perfectly still I should be buried beyond hope
of rescue.
As it was, I believed that life for me was over-
they could never find me there. By-some chance a
mass of snow had fallen, before the veurra struck
us, or at the same time, and I resigned myself to


God's mercy and to the death I had always ex-
pected to overtake me.
At the hospice all was ready. The night before,
prayers had been said for those in distress; and as
day dawned, five of the brothers prepared to meet
us on the pass; but, before they had started, the
veurra was seen, and all exit from the hospice was
simply impossible. With agony they .watched it
rise; at solemn mass they commended our souls to
Heaven; and as the whirlwind abated they started
on their dismal quest for traces of the missing four.
For hours they continued their hopeless search;
the refuge was uncovered, the wind had swept the
pass clearer than it had been since winter set in.
They found ourbreakfast bowls at the refuge, and
knew by the surrounding disorder that the travel-
ers had been found, and resuscitated there; but
beyond there was no track nor trace of any of the
party. Disheartened and discouraged they slowly
retraced their steps.
Suddenly there was a shout! One of the party
had discovered a drop of blood on the white sur-
face of the ground, then another, and yet another!
What could it be? they fairly ran up the pass,
guided by the blood drops in the snow. Not
many yards farther, they came up with Turk, stag-
gering inch by inch toward home. When he
saw them, he gave a joyful whine -his mission
was fulfilled! Turk fell exhausted before them.
There was no time to stop; they placed a coat be-
neath him and went back again. It was easy to re-
trace their steps now; easy, too, to find where the
red marks turned from the path in which they had
first seen them. Ah, how the dog had struggled to
save his masters The round hole in a harmless
looking bank of snow was stained too stained for
many feet, in to its heart, where lay buried five hu-
man lives. Half-way in they found Jean, his
clothes torn and ragged, showing that the dog had
attempted to drag him out. I heard them work-
ing long before they came to my ledge. I heard
them call my name and wonder why I was not with
the others. Heaven only knows how I came where
I was. I made one great effort, my arm pierced
through the drift, and in an instant they were be-
side me, pushing away the snow from my frozen
legs, chafing my numbed hands, and bringing back
the life to my dizzy brain. Shall I ever forget that
day? I know not how they carried us home. I
only know that Turk had saved us, Jean and me.
He did what he could for all, but only Jean and I
reaped any benefit; and when they brought poor
Turk back he had a bed made in our dormitory,
and used to come and lick our hands (Jean's bed


*The total income of St. Bernard is about 1500. On this sum the monks succor and accommodate 20,000 travelers a year, and
support twenty mules, employed during the months from June to September. The total amount given by tourists only covers a por-
tion of the-actual cost of entertaining them. Thus the charity is greatly in need of funds.


1889.]






THE STORY OF TURK.


was not far from mine) and look almost human.
,His back was covered with plasters, and his legs
bound up like a wounded soldier's; he had been
badly cut by the ice and snow, and the front paws
with which he had dug his way out were quite help-
less. Long after Jean and I were about,, he would
lie for hours beside the fire. They said the wound
in his head could never heal and it never did."
Pare Luisier buried his face in his hands and
wept like a child. "You '11 pardon me, messieurs,
that's all the story of Turk. I can sometimes tell
it without breaking down, but not when that boy


bling with excitement, and felt thankful that mine
was only a twenty-four hours' stay in this desolate
region. Next day we had last few words with P&re
Luisier, promising to remember always the hospi-
tality he had shown us, a last frolic with the dogs,
and then we were off. Back into the "Valley of
Death," over the snow with our hands full of flowers,
and the hospice of St. Bernard growing dim in the
distance. Jean was disinclinedto talk, and we walked
on silently. I wished to tell Jean how I honored him.
for his bravery, and I expressed it awkwardly enough,
while he held my two hands as I said good-bye.


-----v _
L- -r--


_rAu -=~ e a$
ASLEEP NEAR His HOME.


- 'C_ -.


Jean comes up. Jean was to have taken orders, Five minutes later, however, I saw his blue
sir- but that is all past; he can't stay here without blouse and cap in the road ahead. He had taken
Turk, and I do not urge it, knowing myself how a short cut through the woods and stood waiting
hard it is. He has a fancy to join Napoleon, some for the wagon. As we passed he thrust a roughly-
day. I never explain it to him, for Jean is a good tied roll under the seat and blurted out fiercely:
lad, and a good guide, but-" he touched his fore- Take this with you. P&re Luisier gave it me,
head significantly as he spoke. but I would rather you took it away. I can't bear
Would he come with me to America, Father?" it, sir. That is not Turk and he was gone in
I asked. Pere Luisier shook his head. No. the forest before I could jump down to follow him.
Do not ask him, sir. He is far better here, and The roll contained Turk's skin.
I look after him. We are all better here, even
Turk," and stooping he caressed the skin at his So I came into possession of Turk's skin, and I
feet as if the good dog lay napping there. took it with me to Paris, to Dresden, to- Munich
When we went to our lonely cells I was trem- where I parted with it, as I shall tell you.


862


[SEPT.






THE STORY OF TURK.


A white-haired Englishman sat next me at table
d'h6te,"-a crabbed specimen, I thought,-and
our conversation was usually upon the weather.
One day I spoke of Switzerland. His whole face
changed. In an instant we were talking like old
friends. Do you know St. Bernard?" I asked.
His countenance fell. I have just returned from
there," he answered. I went on a sad errand,
and I return sadder than I started. Have you
ever heard of Turk? he continued, and not wait-
ing for my reply he told shortly in outline the
story I knew so well; adding, I was at the hos-
pice when Turk was born. Every summer since,
I have gone back to see him. He always greeted
me and knew me, and many a time have I offered


any sum to the monks to own him; but they would
not give him up. Last winter I heard that he was
dead. I felt as if I had lost a friend. I wrote to ask
for his skin, and receiving no reply, I have been to-
get it myself." "Well?" I asked, thinking I
must say something. "Well, some shrewd Amer-
ican was before me! Begging your pardon, sir,
it's a nation given up to gain. I wager the fellow
will give lecturing tours, with Turk's skin, all
through the States And I- I loved that dog. I
would give a thousand pounds to find the man "
"Save your money, sir," I answered. "It's enough
that you loved the dog. I am the American! You
are welcome to Turk's skin "
I felt as Jean did: That is not Turk! "


MODERN HARBOR DEFENSES.

BY LIEUTENANT W. R. HAMILTON.


FOR years past, the newspapers throughout the
United States have published articles relating to
Coast or Harbor Defenses, and at every session
of Congress there have been frequent discussions
of the same subject.
It would seem that the question had been so
thoroughly canvassed that every one ought to be
quite familiar with it. Yet, I venture to say that
there are few, even among Congressmen or the
writers for the newspapers, who are really conver-
sant with the subject, and understand the systems
and the methods devised in modern times to defend
a great country from invasion by an enemy's fleet.
Even if their elders were familiar with this branch
of military science, boys are interested in all that
relates to war.
Although in so short a space as this paper, we
can not go over the ground very much in detail,
yet I will try to explain, for young readers, the
modern methods of fortification, and the wonderful
appliances designed for forts and defenses that may
hereafter be constructed.
The word fortify is derived from two Latin
words, meaning to make strong" any place. The
place may be a city, a harbor, a village, a moun-
tain-pass, a depot of supplies, or any important
position it is deemed advisable to strengthen.
In countries like the United States, the coast is
so long that it would be necessary to fortify many


harbors, cities, and localities, that an enemy may
find no place weak enough to break through.
There are many places which will not permit an
enemy's vessels to approach close enough to dis-
embark troops and material of war, and it is only
those harbors and places where he can land, or in-
flict damage on us, that we have to defend. Coast
defenses, therefore, include the forts and batteries,
the torpedo-systems and other methods employed
at sea-ports to keep an enemy's war-vessels from
coming near enough to do us damage; and as these
towns are generally provided with good harbors,
the term harbor defenses means practically the
same thing.
In order that we may understand the subject,
let us take a supposed harbor and its fortifications,
as represented by the map on the next page.
Examining it, we find a river opening into a large,
deep harbor. By the mouth of the river is a large
city, whence many railroads branch out into the
interior of the country. The city is also very rich
and contains many supplies valuable to an enemy.
If he could take it, he might destroy the railroads
and prevent troops and supplies coming from the
interior of the country. He could seize so much
valuable plunder as to reimburse himself for the
expense of the war. Other great damage might
be done, also. In case war was declared and there
were no defenses, he could sail up the harbor, and,


1889.1


863






MODERN HARBOR DEFENSES.


anchoring within easy range of the city, demand a
tribute of one hundred million of dollars to be paid
within forty-eight hours, threatening otherwise to
destroy the city. What consternation would then
result! As no one would wish to give up his property
without being paid for it,--and in this case there
would be no pay,- every one would at once try to
get away with all the money and portable property
he possessed. The railroads would be overcrowded
and could not carry all who wished to leave. The
roughs, the idlers, the criminals and outlaws, might
riot and commit crimes without restraint; probably
no one would be able to control them.
Troops could be brought from the interior, but
of what use would their rifles or cannon be against


=- '. T't-X..... -
.. 1 .--....... 14
";; ~~~~... ............ ...... ...........
SKETCH MAP OF A MODERN HARBOR AND ITS
Sand Battery; Armor Battery; Turret Fort; 4, Casemate Fort; 5, To
7, Electric Lights; 8, Observation Tower; 9, Torpedo Boats; so, Subm
zl City; 12, River; x3, Mile Circles; 14, Chan
the steel armor of the war-vessel? The tribute
would have to be paid, or the vessel could, at the
end of forty-eight hours, throw huge shells, which,
exploding in various parts of the city, would kill
people and burn buildings. By refusing to.pay, the
people would lose life and property worth much
more than the one hundred million of dollars
demanded.
It is to prevent such disasters that, in time of
peace, harbor defenses are made. From surveys
and soundings, every foot of ground at the bottom


of the harbor and the sea, near the coast, may be
known and accurately mapped. The channel for
large vessels may be supposed to follow along the
coast, and then pass up the center of the harbor.
It is represented in the map by the crooked line
crossing the straight and the circular lines. These
circular lines are mile circles, the upper one being
three miles, and the others four, five, and six miles,
respectively, from the city. As the enemy mayhave
very large and powerful guns to throw shells a
great distance, it will be necessary for the defend-
ers of the city first to make large and powerful can-
non, and put them along the coast far enough
away to reach the enemy while sailing by it. But
these great guns take many months to make, and
are very costly machines, and as one shell
from the enemy striking them would render
them useless, they will be of little service un-
less they can be protected. So a-strongwall
would be built, and, if the place should be on
a beach, the wall would be of sand and earth,
which are plentiful and cheap. Walls forty
feet thick, with even thicker slopes on the
outside, would be made of sand, and to keep
them from blowing or falling away, sodded
with earth. On the inside, the walls should
be perpendicular, and, to keep them so, walls
of masonry, timber, or other hard material
would be built first, and the sand piled
against them. As great guns weigh many
tons, solid platforms of iron and masonry
would be back of the walls for them to rest
on, so that, when readyto
fire, their muzzles shall
2 project over the tops of
the walls. But were they
to remain in this position
all the time, they would
be easily seen, and ex-
13.:.'/ posed with the gun-
-.... ners who were loading
them -to the enemy's
Fire. To prevent this, the
DEFENSES. carriages on which they
rpedo Gallery; 6, Heavy Battery;
arine Mines and Torpedoes; are mounted can be made
nel. to sink when a shot is
fired, and carry the guns with them below the top
of the wall, or "crest of the parapet." As these
huge guns would weigh a hundred tons, or more
(some now being made would weigh one hundred
and fifty-six tons), and the carriages on which they
are mounted would weigh half as much again, they
could be raised only by the aid of steam or hydrau-
lic power. Behind the wall and under its cover
the gunners might load the guns in safety.
To hoist the immense charges of powder, weigh-
ing hundreds of pounds, and the immense projec-


864


[SEPT.






MODERN HARBOR DEFENSES.


tiles weighing much more, to a level with the
guns and to shove them in, would require a derrick
that is also manipulated by steam. When all
loaded, the guns and carriages would be raised by
steam, but the gunners would be exposed if, in
order to sight them, they attempted
to look along the tops of the guns.
So a pair of mirrors will be used
over each gun. These are to re-
flect the sea, the vessels, and the
sighting-lines of the guns, one on
another, so that the gunners stand-
ing below and peering upward
into a mirror can tell when their
guns are pointed at the object.
The guns have to be "traversed" to
right or left, and the muzzles to be
raised or lowered by steam. When
all is ready the gun is discharged
by electricity. So with the other
guns. If a ship could pass by this
battery without serious injury, the
course of the channel would bring ''"
her nearer to the land, and here it
would be proper, therefore, to con-
struct another battery. Letus call
the first one which we have de-
scribed No. i, and then we can
name this, No. 2. As a moving ship would be
less likely to be struck by a shot than a large and
stationary object like a battery, it would be neces-
sary to make No. 2 fort as strong as, or stronger
than, No. I. In No. I and No. 2 the guns are
mounted "en barbette"; that is, they fire over
the crest of the parapet. But here we have neither
earth nor sand sufficient to make our wall so thick.
So here we would put up a wall of masonry, outside
of which should be a little earth and strong timbers,
and then in front of these strong plates of steel or
iron. In other words, the fort is actually armor-
plated. The guns, as in No. I, should be mounted
on disappearing carriages, and never rise, or come
into view of the enemy, till they are ready to hurl
their huge bolts at the vessels. The shock of dis-
charge, or recoil, would force back the guns, and
guns and carriages would sink till they are below
the parapet, and are ready for reloading.
It would be much more difficult to pass this bat-
tery than to pass No. I, especially if there should
be built, on the mainland opposite, a very powerful
fort, and on an island near the shore, another.
This latter would be a curiosity. It would be a
" turret fort," and externally nothing could be seen
but a large dome of cast-iron or steel. Containing
two or more openings in it for guns, it would re-
volve horizontally upon wheels traveling in circular
tracks. The entire mass would be moved by steam
VOL. XVI.- 55.


generated in boilers far below ground. While
the guns were being loaded, the huge turret would
present nothing but a large circular dome of iron
to the enemy, with openings on the side opposite
the vessel. When the guns were loaded, the com-j


mander would press a small lever, and the huge
dome slowly turn around till the openings were
where he wished them to be. He would then stop
it by another pull of a lever, and the big guns
would be run out and pointed. The recoil having
thrown them back again into the turret, it would
at once commence to revolve, and continue till the
openings are away from the enemy's fire. You
have often seen swing-bridges revolving on little
wheels that travel around a pier built in midstream.
The turret would travel in the same way,-but, the
weight being very much greater, would require
steam power.
On the opposite side of the channel would be
the main fort. Here, the land being much higher,
the fort would be built on the casemate plan; that
is, the guns, instead of firing over the walls, "en
barbette," would fire through little openings or
ports in the sides of the walls. The room for the
gun would be roofed over and partly closed at the
rear. Perhaps other guns might be mounted on
top also "en barbette." This fort would be armor-
plated, and to protect the gunners and interior of
the casemates, when the gun is withdrawn into its
casemate, heavy steel shields or doors would swing
across the ports. These could be opened and the
guns run out when ready to fire. All this would
be done by steam.
It would seem that with such an array of strong






MODERN HARBOR DEFENSES.


forts and powerful guns it would be impossible for
any vessel to sail past and remain afloat. But now-
adays vessels are made 'to go so fast that, traveling
at full speed, it would be very hard to hit them-fromn
the shore. So some means of retarding their prog-
ress must be devised, and therein lies the sphere of
action of submarine mines. These mines would
be made by placing about the harbor, below the
surface of the water, torpedoes filled with gun-
cotton or dynamite, so that the charges may be
exploded by electricity or by contact. Looking at
the map we see how they would be placed, by the
dotted circles. They would be in groups, so con-
trived that they may be exploded singly, or an
entire group at a time. Some of the mines lie
on the bottom of the harbor and in the channel.
These would be exploded by electricity, from the
shore. Others would float in the water at a cer-
tain depth below the surface, but anchored; and
all arranged so as to explode by contact with the
hull of a vessel passing over them. If a vessel com-
ing into the harbor were to steam along at great
speed she would be sure to run into one of these
floating mines or pass over the stationary ones. So
she would sail very slowly, and by means of great
booms stretched out on all her sides and strong
nettings weighted down and suspended from the
booms, try to catch the floating torpedoes or mines,
or burst them before they were near enough to
harm her. Also, by discharging shells filled with
dynamite, on the bottom, and exploding them
there, she would set off the submarine mines in
that vicinity. But to do this she must sail very
slowly, and thus give the great guns on shore
plenty of time to knock her to pieces.
In order to avoid this, the vessel might try to
pass the batteries at night. Then she could sail
along slowly, pick up and destroy the torpedoes,
and if the night were very dark, as a night selected
for such an exploit should be, the gunners on shore
would not be able to see her very well. Therefore,
to prevent this, powerful electric lights should be
at different points on the shore, which would light
up the channel and a wide zone on both sides.
These lights should be in the safest places pos-
sible, and to prevent their being destroyed by shots
from the enemy's guns, they should be low down
in "emplacements," and their light be thrown on
reflectors, which in turn could cast it out over the
waters. The reflectors might be destroyed, but
they also might be quickly and easily replaced;
the lights themselves would be comparatively safe.
But the enemy might attempt to destroy the
mines by other means. He might have a number
of small boats steam-launches, and so on called
patrol-boats, which could be used in shallow waters.
With these he might steal along in the dark part


of the waters, noiselessly, and carry parties of men
to destroy the electric lights, or pick up torpedoes.
So the forts on shore should have guard-boats
to constantly patrol the water. They should be
armed with machine-guns which would quickly
destroy the small boats.
It might seem impossible for the enemy to break
through a line thus fortified, and so he might de-
cide to take up a position outside, and attempt to
silence the guns of the forts, or destroy them.
Undoubtedly you know what mortars, or high-
angle-fire howitzers are,- guns that fire shells
high up in the air, which, dropping down, can
reach the interior of the forts at points not to be
reached by guns throwing projectiles at the usual
'angles. The accuracy of this fire is wonderful, and
two or three dozen mortars playing on one of the
batteries would make short work of it. To avoid
them an enemy's position is made to change con-
stantly, so that he can not accurately get the range.
Torpedo-boats are sent out at him, which at a cer-
tain distance from him launch their torpedoes.
Movable torpedoes, controlled by electricity, run-
ning on wires from the torpedoes to the shore,
and even submarine boats that sail under water
and fasten torpedoes to the hull, all keep him
constantly on the move. Against such boats
and torpedoes as he sees, he turns his machine
and quick-firing guns, but his only defense against
those under water is to keep moving about, with
his guard-boats patrolling all around him and his
booms and netting stretched out.
The auto-movable torpedo is controlled by a
man on shore, as in fact would be all the torpedoes
and mines, and so there should be built what are
called torpedo galleries. They would be strong
places, built low down, within which are electric
batteries and wires running to the different mines
and torpedoes. A movable torpedo can be accu-
rately controlled to a distance of about a mile from
shore. It has one or two wires which unreel as the
machine progresses. They are connected with a
battery on shore, and one man, there, can not only
explode the torpedo when he desires, but he can
guide it, turn it around, stop it, or make it go
ahead again. Electricity plays perhaps the most
wonderful part in all these huge works. On the
map will be noticed, by the main fort, a little round
building- No. 8. This would be the place for
the "tower of observation" of the commanding
officer. From here he could see all over the harbor
and away out to sea. The tower would be strong,
and inside would be the wonderful key-boards of
the electric system. By means of these, the com-
mander could telephone to the captain of Battery
No. I to load his guns, and aim them at such and
such an angle and direction. The captain of the


866


[SEPT.





MODERN HARBOR DEFENSES.


battery would do so and telephone back the moment
he was ready. The commander could tellthe captain
to fire, or he could, if he chose, press a little key and
himself fire each gun singly or all the guns at once.
He could do the same with all the batteries and forts,
and he could, from his little tower miles away, by a
light touch of his finger explode every gun in the
harbor, and send tons and tons of metal flying
with crushing force at any vessel he pleased. He
could do even more. He could explode any, or all,
of the mines and torpedoes at once, or he could have
one grand simultaneous explosion of all the guns,
torpedoes, and mines. At each fort and battery
would be stationed officers who by means of instru-
ments would find exactly the course of the enemy's
ships. This would be telegraphed to the com-
mander, who would thus know at every instant just
where any vessel is, and how fast she is sailing. So
he could predict that a ship will pass a certain spot
at a certain time, and, if she did not change her
course, could press the key, and blow up the vessel,
or send at her a huge bolt of iron or steel. If the
enemy had landed a force on the mainland down
the coast, and it was marching on the fort to take
it in the rear, the commander could wait till he saw
the force on a road approaching the fort, when,
pressing another key, several iron doors of the fort


would open and automatic machine-guns pop out,
and commence firing at the rate of six hundred
shots per minute apiece, and keep it up till the key
was pressed again, when they would withdraw and
the shields close. It can be seen that the com-
mander should know absolutely all that is going
on, as otherwise he might fire into his own forts,
or on his own patrol-boats.
Now, an enemy would not attack a strongly for-
tified place with one vessel. He would have a
'large fleet, and the defending party should have
on hand a large fleet also. So rams and heavy
floating-batteries would be built.
From the foregoing, we see that there are needed
for harbor defenses, first, powerful guns; second,
powerful fortifications to protect the guns; third,
torpedoes, torpedo-boats, and systems of submarine
mines; fourth, electric lights; fifth, emplacements
for the lights; and sixth, floating-batteries and
rams and patrol-boats. Armor on forts should
be two, or two and a half, or even three feet thick.
It can be seen that an immense amount of labor
is necessary to build these, and to complete the
huge guns. To complete such a system requires
many years and the expenditure of much money,
but in case of war, it would be money saved in
the end.


A BIG GUN AT NEW YORK HARBOR UNDER FIRE FROM THE CAMERA.


x889.]


867













-i -r-i, 5 'orokeiv wir5,
ow piteoLs C/ \ir\,b


Q, Ac/iA >ev/7& -t\eelIe, /ixer.-d ikr,
Ci\A c, elPiAv ruw-6es, el\A_ it',
i\X. t-.ej/e3-//4er bathe wi/K. iew,

C~d co7> &> a% is renew;
^ _J\cstRL I Qbe restore,


SAkf. VAe wice 'olue oair OAce rr\o/-e.

c.pc.




THE NATIONAL FLOWER.
(A Child's Quandary.)


BY LUCY LARCOM.


THEY have asked me to vote for a national flower; -
Now, which will it be, I wonder !
To settle the question is out of my power;
But I 'd rather not make a blunder.
And I love the Mayflower best,- in May,-
Smiling up from its snowdrift-cover
With its breath that is sweet as a kiss, to say
That the reign of winter is over.
And I love the Golden-rod, too,- for its gold;
And because through autumn it lingers,
And offers more wealth than his hands can hold
To the grasp of the poor man's fingers.


I should like to vote for them both, if I might;
But I do not feel positive whether
The flowers themselves would be neighborly quite;-
Pink and yellow don't go together.
O yes, but they do !-in the breezy wild rose,
The darlingest daughter of summer,
Whose heart with the sun's yellow gold overflows,
And whose blushes so well become her.
Instead of one flower, I will vote for three:
The Mayflowers know that I mean them;
And the Golden-rod surely my choice will be,-
With the sweet Brier-rose between them.


You see I 'm impartial. I 've no way but this:
My vote, with a rhyme and a reason,
For the Mayflower, the Wild Rose, and Golden-rod, is;-
A blossom for every season !
868










THE BUNNY STORIES.*
FOR LITTLE READERS.

DEACON BUNNY BUYS A MULE.


DEACON BUNNY came home from a county
fair, one day, leading a pony mule.
He was a small, dun-colored, peaceful-looking
creature, of uncertain age, and seemed to be very
docile and gentle.
The Bunnies were surprised and delighted, for
they had never seen so cunning a little steed, and
they had often teased their father to buy them a
pony and village-cart for their own.
The Deacon did not tell the family all the rea-
sons why he had bought the mule, but said the
animal might do for the children to drive, and
would be useful for light work about the place.
The Bunnies very nearly quarreled about the
name and the ownership of the mule, but at last
agreed to call him "Donkey Dan," and to own
him in common.
Cousin Jack looked him over carefully, and as
he did not say much in his praise, the Deacon asked
what was the matter with the mule.
Cousin Jack replied that he might be a good-
enough mule, what there was of him, but Cousin
Jack was afraid he was not so amiable as he looked.
He told the Deacon he had seen very disagreea-
ble kinds of mulishness hiding behind just such an
outward show of meekness, and, though he might
be mistaken, and hoped he was, the family like-
ness to vicious mules was very strong in Donkey
Dan, especially about the eyes.
The Deacon said the man who sold him the
mule told him that the mule had been a great pet
in the family where he was raised, and was a
perfect cosset.
That is just what I was afraid of," said Cousin
Jack, and if the mule has any chronic faults, his
bringing up is probably more than half to blame
for them; however, we will wait and see."
The next day the Deacon bought a village-cart
and harness, and the children took their first ride
behind Donkey Dan, with Bunnyboy as a driver.
They had a'jolly trip, and came home full of
praise of Donkey Dan and the way he had behaved.
The Deacon joked Cousin Jack about having
misjudged the mule, and he replied, that he was
sorry if he had done the poor fellow any injustice,
for, as a rule, he tried to think kindly of the


meanest of God's creatures, instead of judging
them hastily or harshly.
All went smoothly for several days, until one
morning Gaffer, the farmer who worked for Deacon
Bunny, was told to take Donkey Dan and the cart
and carry a bag of potatoes to the Widow Bear.
The potatoes were in the barn, and Gaffer tried
to make the mule back the cart up to the barn-
door, in order to load them easily, but Donkey
Dan would n't "back! "
The harder Gaffer pulled on the reins, the more
firmly the mule braced the other way, and the
stubborn animal turned his head from side to side
in a most provoking manner.
.Then Gaffer tried to lead him about and bring the
cart near the door, but this plan also failed.
Donkey Dan was stubborn and seemed to have
made up his mind to have his own way, and to do
just contrary to what he was asked to do.
The barn stood on a hillside, and the roadway
had been built up on the lower side to make it
level and was supported by a stone wall. A light
wooden railing protected the embankment, which
rose eight or ten feet above the yard.
When Gaffer was trying to make him back,
Donkey Dan was facing the bank. When he tried
to lead him toward the barn the mule was, of
course, facing the other way.
Gaffer chirruped and coaxed, and tried to pull
him forward, but still the mule braced his feet and
would not budge.
Suddenly, and without any warning or reason,
Donkey Dan began to "back" with a great rush,
and before Gaffer could hinder him, the wheels
crashed through the frail fence, and down the bank
went the cart and donkey, backwards, both land-
ing wrong side up in a heap below.
Gaffer was frightened and called for help, while
the mule, stunned and probably too much sur-
prised to move, lay there until the Deacon and
Gaffer went to his aid.
Strange to say, Donkey Danseemed to be unhurt,
and when once more on his feet, he shook himself
and began to nibble the grass as if nothing had
happened.
The cart, which was badly broken, was sent to


*Copyright, x888, by John H. Jewett. All rights reserved.






THE BUNNY STORIES.


I "'I -
iKf
r4'


GAFFER TRIES TO' BRING DONKEY DAN TO THE BARN-DOOR.


the shop to be repaired, and Gaffer took one of
the farm-horses to do his errand.
Deacon Bunny said some persons would call it a
miracle that Donkey Dan was not killed by his
tumble, and he hoped it would be a lesson to him.
Cousin Jack suggested that a good way to pre-
vent the same kind of" miracle from happening
again, would be to build a stronger and more suit-
able railing on top of the wall, and that though
Donkey Dan might know more
than before his tumble, it
was hardly worth while,
even for a cosset mule, to
go through so
much to learn
so little.
When the
Bunnies came
home from
N,,, school they
were greatly
excited about the
accident to their
pet, and all wished
1 to feed him lumps
of sugar to
Syshow their
,- 1W. sympathy.


DONKEY DAN COMES TO GRIEF.


Browny declared that Gaffer must have abused
Dan, or he would not have acted so badly.
The Deacon told him it was useless to try to
explain why a mule was mulish, by blaming other
folks, and that talking about it would not mend
the cart nor the mule's manners.
Cousin Jack said the resignation of that mule as
he lay there on the ground, and his self-satisfied
expression when he had been helped out of the
scrape, seemed almost Bunny-like.
Mother Bunny said she was glad and thankful
none of the children were in the cart at the time,
and that she should feel uneasy about them in the
future if they went to ride with the mule.
Cousin Jack remarked quietly to her, that he was
sorry one of the Bunnies had not seen the whole
performance, for an object lesson in willfulness and
heedlessness might perhaps make it easier for her
to restrain one of her troublesome comforts.
He did not say which one of the Bunnies, but
Mother Bunny knew which one he meant, and you
also may find out by reading the next chapter.

DONKEY DAN AND BROWNY.

COUSIN JACK, who was very fond of all babies,
used to say that the only things a baby did n't out-
grow were a mother's love and patience, and it was
almost a pity that they had to grow up at all.
Browny was now seven years old, two years older
than Cuddledown, the youngest, and he had been
the pet of the family even after she had come to
divide the honors.
All through his babyhood, until after he was able
to go alone, he had been what is called a delicate
child, never quite so rugged and vigorous as the
others at the same ages.
For this reason he was more tenderly cared for
and looked after, too often humored when he should


870


[SEPT.


h~:1


~
~7~






THE BUNNY STORIES.


have been pleasantly denied, and left to do hardly
anything for himself.
In this way he acquired the habit of being
waited upon, and of having other people use their
eyes and ears and brains for him, instead of learn-
ing to use his own.
When he had become old enough to play out in
the fresh air and sunshine with the other children,
without being tied to a nursemaid's apron-string,
he had a hard time in getting used to the sharp cor-
ners of the doorsteps, the rough edgesof curbstones,
and the gritty side of a brick or gravel walk, be-
cause it was so easy for him to fall over anything
that happened to be in his way, instead of using
his eyes, or stopping to think for himself when in a
hurry.
This change from a "hug-able," sweet-tempered,
and comfortable little bundle of helplessness, to a
heedless, self-willed, and unlucky youngster, was a
great trial to tte family, especially to his mother.
Not that Browny was altogether a bad or stupid
child, for he had a tender heart, and was kind and
generous in many ways, but his willfulness and
blundering brought more trouble upon himself
and others than there was any need for having,


where every one else was
kind and thoughtful and
tried to teach him to Be
careful.
After Donkey Dan's
tumble down the bank,
whenever the Bunnies
went to ride, Bunnyboy,
who was eleven years old
and strong for his age,
was sent with them as
driver.
This did not suit
Browny, for he thought
he was old enough to
drive, himself. He kept
on saying that Donkey
Dan was all right, and
'that Gaffer was to blame
for the accident at the
barn.
Bunnyboy had been
cautioned, when driving,
to keep in the broad high-


ways, to avoid narrow lanes and steep places, and children topsy-turvy into the gutter among the
and not to make the mule back. brambles and stones.
As no accident happened, Browny became more Donkey Dan then dashed down the road, but
and more confident, and one Saturday afternoon, Browny hung to the reins and was dragged quite
without asking leave, he harnessed the mule and a distance, until Neighbor Fox saw the runaway
drove out alone, coming, and stopped the mule.
No one saw him start, as Mother Bunny was busy Browny asked Neighbor Fox to go back with him
indoors, and the other Bunnies were awayat play. and help his sister, for he feared she was hurt.


In driving through the village, Browny met his
sister Pinkeyes and asked her to ride home.
Instead of keeping on the highway, he turned
into a by-road; and though Pinkeyes told him he
ought not to go that way, he said he knew what
he was about, and kept on. In spite of the fact
that Pinkeyes was two years older, she had been
in the habit of yielding to Browny; and to avoid a
quarrel she said no more.
This by-road soon separated into two lanes, both
leading toward home--one running over a hill,
and the other around it.
Browny wished to go over the hill, but Donkey
Dan tried to take the other and easier road.
The harder Browny pulled him to the right, the
more the mule tried to go to the left, until Browny,
becoming impatient with the mule, lost his temper
and struck Dan smartly with the whip, at the same
time giving a strong jerk on the right rein.
Donkey Dan made one plunge forward and then
stopped short, turned his head from side to side,
and refused to go either way.
Another blow with the whip, and another jerk
on the reins, and in a twinkling the mule whirled
short about, upsetting the cart and throwing the


,'.2 1 fS,
VSi.,.'- "


BROWNY AND DONKEY DAN DISAGREE AS TO WHICH ROAD IS THE RIGHT ONE.


s889.]





THE BUNNY STORIES.


They found Pinkeyes sitting by the roadside,
half stunned, and bleeding from a wound on her
head, where she had fallen on a sharp stone.
Lifting her gently into the cart, and telling Pink-
eyes to rest her head on Browny's shoulder, neigh-
bor Fox led the mule and his sorry load home.


DONKEY DAN'S SUCCESSOR.
When the surgeon had come and sewed up the
wound on Pinkeyes's head, he told the family the
injury was serious, but, with quiet and good nurs-
ing, he hoped she would be out in a week or two.
Browny was somewhat bruised by his rough-and-
tumble dragging over the stony road, but the shame
of it all, and his anxiety about Pinkeyes, made this
seem a small matter.
For the sake of having his own heedless way,
he had nearly killed his sister, grieved the whole
family, and disgraced himself and Donkey Dan.
Browny had been in little troubles before, from
the same cause, but had never harmed any one
but himself, except that he hurt the feelings of
those who loved him, and were sorry to see him
growing up so willful and reckless, in spite of all
they could do or say.
Deacon Bunny had a long and earnest talk with
him, and ended by telling him that he might go


Cousin Jack pitied Browny, for he could see how
keenly he suffered, and when he found a good op-
portunity he spoke with him about the accident.
He said he was glad Browny had the nerve to
hang on to the mule as he did, or some little child
might have been run over, if they had reached the
public highway, as would have happened before
neighbor Fox could have stopped them, but for
the check of Browny's weight on the mule's speed.
Cousin Jack tried to explain to him that willful-
ness, or mulishness, might be pardonable in a
mule, who had only instinct to guide him, but
good sense ought to teach any one who had reason
and a conscience, the difference between manly
firmness and mulish sbstinacy.
Mix a little more caution with your strong will,
and season it with kindness and forbearance," said
Cousin Jack, and you can change your fault into
the kind of virtue which rules the world."
Donkey Dan and Gaffer soon had another fracas
at the barn, and MotherBunny begged the Deacon
to sell the mule and buy a pet more tractable for
family driving; and this was decided to be wise.
A few days later the Deacon bought the Bunnies
a handsome, chubby, well-broken Shetland pony.
He told the family that a man who owned a saw-
mill, run by horse-power, had taken Donkey Dan,
and he would have no backing to do there, for the
great flat wheel he walked on to drive the mill, only
went one way, around and around, always in the
same direction, with no opportunity for an argu-
ment that even a mule could enjoy.
Browny did n't change his nature all at once, but


into the sick-room every morning and evening and
look at his sister's pale face and bandaged head,
with the sad mother watching by the bedside, if
he felt that he needed any punishment to help him DONKEY DAN IS PUT INTO A PLACE WHERE HE MUST GO,
WILLING OR UNWILLING.
keep the lesson in mind.
Pinkeyes soon was well enough to sit up, and he did try to be a little less like a mule, in some
there never was a more devoted and loving brother ways, and whenever he was inclined to be head-
than Browny tried to be, through all the days and strong, or heedless, Cousin Jack would slyly say,
weeks before she was able to play again. I wonder what 's become of Donkey Dan ? "



















.__1t__
TL
-A





....~i L St.._
*^l^^3^^


.:=)= ?^ -c
S---7^^=
,- ',"Y -- a.c K ^ 2


I** ;,..


BY EMMA SMULLER CARTER.


AT Abbotsford Sir Walter sat,
His friends about the board,
In easy after-dinner chat,
When thus an English lord:

" Talking of troubles, we are told
Each mortal takes his share.
Now, there are happy lives, I hold,
Exempt from thought of care."

" Not so," Sir Walter said; no heart
That beats in human breast,
But bears apart, some inward smart,
Some burden of unrest."

" I '11 venture," said my lord, I 'It find
One neck without its yoke;
'One truly calm and tranquil mind.
Take that daft laddie, Jock."

By shaded walks of Abbotsford,
Sir Walter led them down,
Called the poor lad before the lord,
Who, tossing half-a-crown:


" You live in luck, good Jock, I see,
Well fed, light work to do? "
" Oo, ay, the master 's gude to me,
An' I hae plenty, too."

" Well said, brave Jock, and now, once more,-
Of troubles know you aught ?"
At once his face was sicklied o'er"
With the "pale cast of thought."

" Trouble enough Wha could ha'e mair ?"
He shuddered as he spoke.
" Oo, ay, wi' fear I 'm fashit sair,
Ye '11 mind the bubblyjock* ? "

" The bubblyjock! What thing on earth
May that be ? says my lord.
And then, amid a roar of mirth,
They see, across the sward,

A turkey-cock of stately size,
Slow strutting into sight.
Poor Jock beholds with quailing eyes,
And quickly takes to flight.


" Ah says Sir Walter, it 's the same
With all poor human folk;
Our troubles differ but in name,
Each has his 'bubblyjock.' "
Scotch pronunciation of last syllable, "joke."


i.


























WATER LIFE, AND HOW TO SEE IT.


I HAD fished in the Trout Hole again and again, lifting
from the water there my best catches of black bass and
a great many more perch than I wanted,- for, on the St.
Lawrence, it is the fashion to throw perch back. But
though I had so often fished in the Trout Hole, all I
knew about it was that it was in the.second bay on the
south 'side of Lake Ontario, just where the lake empties
into and forms the St. Lawrence River, at Cape Vincent,
New York. I knew it to be a prettily shaped, semicir-
cular harbor with a beach composed of millions and mill-
ions of small stones worn smooth by the water. The last
time I went there, however, I had a surprise. The bay
was partially shielded from the east wind which was then
blowing, and for moments at a time its surface was as
smooth as glass. My boatman threw over the anchor
of his skiff, and, as he did so, exclaimed, "Just look at
the fish in there! I looked, and then understood for
the first time why the place was called the Trout Hole.
Beneath me was a bowl, twenty-five feet deep and
several times as wide, with sides or walls of tiny stones
and as steep as you can imagine. Everywhere else the
little arm of the lake was shallow. It was as if the
bay had been filled with small stones and then some
power had scooped out an enormous cup-shaped well in
them. And in the clear water swam or hung at rest,
as if in mid-air, hundreds of fish. Little striped perch
were the most numerous and the least disturbed. Now
and then, a great black bass, or even a half-dozen of his
kind, rushed across the bowl with the swiftness and vigor
of an athlete at play, and with the grace of a strong fish.
Far down, just above the stony bottom, hung a great
pickerel or two, and hundreds of baby-bass played in
schools close to the shallow, flaring top of the bowl. In
an instant a puff of wind ruffled the water, and the scene
was gone. We had to wait many moments, until the
surface was smooth, to enjoy the wondrous scene anew.
How I longed for a water-glass! I resolved at that
instant never to spend an idle day on any river or lake
of clear water, without one of those glasses. Since then
it has struck me as strange that so few who live by the
water should know the powers of this simple device.
Indeed, many have never heard of it.
The water-glass may be known in many places. I


have seen it only on the island of New Providence, on
which is situated the city of Nassau. It is a few hundred
miles from our Atlantic coast. There the water in the
coves and sounds is as clear as crystal. Visitors are rowed
out by the boatmen on purpose to see the sights beneath
the surface. A water-glass is put in the visitor's hand.
He submerges its bottom end, and-looking into its open
top sees sights of which he never dreamed: strange and
beautiful sea-plants, odd-looking fishes,-some round
and some that seem to have heads like horses. These
fish are red, green, or of as many hues as are worn by
the birds of the tropics. My man treated me to a sight
even of a great pig-like ground-shark. The negro baited
a large hook of bar-iron with pork, and literally bounced
it against the nose of this monster without tempting
the lazy fellow to swallow it or even to bite at it. But,
lo! when the water-glass, in being withdrawn, reached
the ruffled surface of the sea, the entrancing submarine
scenery disappeared from view.
Surely, then, a water-glass is worth having. Any boy
can make one. Nothing could be simpler. It is a long,
narrow box with one open end and the other end closed
by a sheet of glass. In use the glazed end is pushed as
far as is convenient under the surface of the water. The
secret of its operation. is that the ripple, or movement
on the surface, is what prevents us from seeing what is
passing beneath it. Once past this disturbance, an un-
interrupted view of what lies beneath is gained. The
box may be of half-inch pine, at least eighteen inches
long, and it is best to have it five or six inches square.
The glass should be set in a little groove before the last
side of the box is nailed on, and it is well to put an edg-
ing of putty around the sides and under the glass, mak-
ing the box air-tight, because if the glass gets wet on top
you can not see through it. No water should be allowed
to enter at the top of the box. Handles, pegs, or loops
should be attached to the sides near the open end of the
box, to hold it when in use.
Such a box, or glass, will repay its owner if he should
live near clear water and be fond of boating or fishing.
Armed with it, he will be able to see not only the marine
life beneath him, but it will be possible for himliterally
to oversee his own operations as a fisherman, pulling the
bait away from a small fish to put it in the way of a
larger one., Then he may study the greedy fellow as he
rushes for the fatal hook and gulps it down.






THE ST. NICHOLAS SCRAP-BOOK.


THE TRUTHFUL FISHERMAN.

BY HENRY TYRRELL.


WE went a-fishing. Now, no doubt,
You '11 say, The same old yarn again:
The sylvan brook, the speckled trout,
The regulation mountain glen."
No! We went Staten Island way
And took the cars to Prince's Bay.

Along the sandy beach we strayed
And gazed across the glistening water.
The man we hired our boat of, said:
" Well, if you don't catch fish, you oughter."
I dare not state that boat's expense -
The bait alone cost ninety cents.

We rowed, and rowed, and then we baled
Our boat out with a skimming-dish.
Well-nigh to Sandy Hook we sailed,
And then, at last, began to fish.
That is, each held and watched his line -
The fishes never made a sign.


And yet, there were fish. Other craft
Went blithely back, their day's work done;
Our rivals showed their strings, and laughed,
While we lay luckless in the sun.
I afterward the reason learned:
Ere we got there, the tide had turned.

We gave it up and started back,
With blistered hands, to reach the shore;
And what had been a three-mile track
Now seemed at least a half-a-score.
Landing, we reached what consolation !-
Only one minute late, the station.

That night, in mournful single file,
Three fishermen, starved, brown, and gaunt,
Crept slowly home from Staten Isle,
All fishless from their fishing-jaunt.
Now, if their story won't attract,
Supply the fiction. Here 's the fact.


"I 'LL JES SQUAT ON DIS YERE OLD LOG AND WATCH FOR MISTER--


- ALLIGATOR "














THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the i5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


ROSEDALE, TORONTO, CAN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not remember having seen
any letters from Toronto in your Letter-box," but per-
haps you would like to hear from one of your little
readers in the Queen City of Canada.
My sisters and I are very much interested in all your
stories, especially The Bells of Ste. Anne." We have
an aunt who has spent several summers at her house on
Lake Megantic, and she and her two little girls were
among the passengers on the excursion train to the
boundary, which is described in that story. She tells me
that the car windows had to be closed on account of the
fire, and then the heat was so intense that there was dan-
ger of the glass breaking. She thought at one time of
escaping with her little girls through the woods as the
track was on fire; however, she remained in the car, and
after some delay reached home safely.
I wonder if Mrs. Catherwood knows that Donald Mor-
rison, about whom we have heard so much as an outlaw
during the last year, was also on the train that day, with
a number of his Gaelic companions.
I remain, yours very truly, MAY H- .


WILLIAMSTOWN, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in a college town. I do
not know whether you have had letters from a college
town, but I think you must have had. I have great fun
here; we are right in the mountains, and we can go off
after flowers; there are so many here you can not pick
them all.
I have had you in my house for two years, and my
sister reads you, too. I don't believe you like long let-
ters, so I am not going to write one.
We play ball very often here, and we have many other
games, too. I think I shall have to end my letter now.
Your loving reader, FRANKLIN C- JR.

MACON, GA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first year we have
taken you, and I have been regretting the good things
I have missed all these years. I have been wanting to
write you a letter for ever so long a time, but I lacked
the courage. Since I have noticed that no letter has been
published from Georgia, I have taken counsel of my fears,
and have decided to try my luck, and if this letter is pub-
lished, I knowit will gladden the hearts of many of your
Macon readers.
Joel Chandler Harris's name on your pages appears
so familiar. He lives in Atlanta, and is better known
to Georgia girls and boys as "Uncle Remus." I am so
glad the April number contained a sketch of Elsie Leslie
Lyde. I saw her when she acted as little Meenie in
Joe Jefferson's company, and think she is wonderful.
Your devoted reader and friend,
RALPH B-.


NEWARK, N. J.
SDEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My papa says if your artist
could have photographed a picture in our house when
ST. NICHOLAS arrived you would have printed it in ST.
NICHOLAS; but as the artist was not there and Ilwas, I
will try to tell you about it. Well, my papa is a great
hand to read his papers from all over the world, and he
was in his big easychair reading away when the post-
man rung so hard at the door. Little brother Ezra ran
for the mail, and the next moment we heard his cheery
voice ringing out, "The Daddy Jake book has come!
the Daddy Jake book has come! All seven of us ran
to papa to hear whether Lucien and Lillian had found
Daddy Jake. My sister Nora and brother Ezra each
climbed on their own one ofpapa's knees. Big sister Paul-
ine and Eulalie looked over his shoulder from the back of
his chair, while brother Mantie and I were on each side
of him, and little year-and-a-half-old baby brother Mal-
colm crowded himself right between papa's knees and
between Nora and Ezra, and stuck up his head to see
what he could of the pictures about Daddy Jake.
While papa was reading the story our mamma came
in, and little Ezra called out, Mamma, Mamma, they
have found Daddy Jake "; and there came such a loving
expression in her face as she looked upon the picture
and said, "My darlings."
We all want to hear more about Daddy Jake and
Lucien and Lillian.
RACHEL M--.

ELIZABETH, N. J.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two little German
sisters, and we are visiting our grandmamma in America,
who takes your charming magazine. The June number
has just arrived, and we see a letter from two little French
girls. We have been in Europe two years, but have an
English governess all the while; before that time we lived
in New York City, except when we were babies. We
were born at Cologne, on the beautiful river Rhine. On
our last visit to Cologne we went to see the old house
in which we used to live. Our father is there now,
but he is going to cross in August, and we think it is
a long time in coming. We hope we will be settled next
winter so we can take your delightful magazine.
Your loving little friends,
GRETCHEN and MARGARETTA VAN V-


WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought that some of your
readers might like to hear about the bird's nest that I
had made to order.
I had quite a variety of birds' nests, but I wished to
have one made in a basket; so I climbed a large pear-
tree, armed ihh small basket filled with cotton. The
next day I nor.r'icd some inquisitive little orioles taking
the cotton from the basket to a higher limb in the same
tree. It took them all that day, to remove the cotton






THE LETTER-BOX.


from the basket, and they worked all the next day in
taking it from the branch where they had placed it to a
tree in the next yard. I thought I would let the birds
occupy it for the season (free of rent), as they had so
kindly made it for me, but as soon as they vacated it I
took possession. The nest was about six inches long,
made of cotton on the outside, and lined with horse-hair.
Your interested reader, E. H.


SHASTA, CALIFORNIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not take you myself, but
my brother does. He is a little fellow and likes the
"Brownies" and "Pygmies" and "Bunnies" best. I
am much interested in "A Bit of Color." We have a
cat that is twenty-one years old, though you may not
believe it. He is just eight years older than I am.
We have a horse, and I love to ride her. I am very
fond of my teacher; she is very kind. My brother is the
only one in Shasta who takes your magazine. It is a
very little town, but used to be much larger before a
great fire which destroyed many nice houses. This is
the Sweet Shasta Town about which Joaquin Miller
wrote the poem recently printed in your pages.
Your friend, ANNA M. S-- .


ROCHESTER, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for two years
in Chili, S. A., and one year here in the United States.
Papa subscribed for you in Chili, S. A. We have not sub-
scribed here in the United States, but whenever I get
the chance I get you of the book-store. I was born in
Chili, S. A., and we came pretty near living with the
Indians (I mean amongst them). I am eleven years old,
and will be twelve the 26th of August. This is the second
letter I have written to you, but my name was not printed,
but my name (or initials) was in the list of names that
were not printed, or rather the letters were not printed.
My first letter was written in Chili, S. A. I like
"Lord Fauntleroy," "Juan and Juanita," "The Bells
of Ste. Anne," Daddy Jake, the Runaway," The Cob
Family and Rhyming Eben," and a good many more.
We came to the United States by the way of England,
and I saw some big whales and porpoises and sea-gulls,
and we would throw crumbs into the water and they
would eat them, and we saw kingfishers diving after
fishes. I am eleven years old and never saw snow till
this winter, and never saw dandelions till last summer.
Yours affectionately, ANNITTA A. G--.


GAINESVILLE, FLA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Although I have taken you for
several years, I have not written to you before; I go to the
East Florida Seminary, a military school, but girls are
permitted to attend also. There are about thirty girls,
and the girls drill. Our costumes are of white lawn for
the skirt, trimmed with red braid, and blue blouses
trimmed with white stars, and we drill with spears an hour
every day. We have a captain and first and second
lieutenants. LOUISE S. B-- .


RAMAPO, ROCKLAND Co., N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen a letter
from Ramapo, so I thought I would write and tell you
that I am a little girl, ten years old, and have taken
your lovely magazine for three years, and have enjoyed
it very much. I have two pets a donkey and a bird.
My donkey's name is Lady Jane Grey." and my bird's,
" Mikado." I have read and seen Little Lord Fauntle-
roy," and think it charming. I have also read "Sara


Crewe; or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's." I was
very anxious to get every number, so that I would not
miss one.
I remain your devoted reader, JULIA P--


WESTPORT POINT, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, twelve years
old. I want to tell you about something my mamma saw
once. There were two horses in a yard near the house
where we lived. It was a very hot day, and there was no
water in the drinking-trough, and the horses were very
thirsty; so Mamma drew them some water. One of
them came and dipped her nose in the trough, and then,
without stopping to drink, galloped away to the other
horse and put her wet nose against his. Then they both
came back, but the first one did not drink any until the
other had had all he wanted.
Don't you think it was kind of her to go and tell the
other horse before she drank any herself? I enjoy the
ST. NICHOLAS very much.
Your loving reader, MERCIE E. B- .


FT. WADSWORTH, STATEN ISLAND, N. Y. HARBOR.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very much interested in
natural history, especially that of insects. Last summer
I caught, or had given to me, quite a number of large,
green worms, about the size of a man's middle finger. I
fed them with their natural food, and watched them spin
themselves into cocoons. These, with others I found in
the autumn and winter, I put in a box and kept in a warm
room ready for hatching this spring. This hatchery I
watched with much interest when they began to come
out. At last I saw one begin and helped it out; it was
a Cecropia moth. I saw this cocoon bobbing up and
down on the side of the box. I thought it looked sus-
picious, so I took it down and cut a small hole in one.end.
I saw the moth coming out, so I made the hole a little
larger. After it put its fore feet out, it pulled itself along,
until its other feet were free, and then it pushed the cocoon
off with its hind feet and pulled itself clear with the others.
The antennae were folded over the head and thorax, the
wings over the body, and the legs over all, but the legs
were unfolded as the insect came out, and helped it to
escape.
I think (in fact, I almost know) there is no other chil-
dren's magazine in the world like yours. I like all your
stories so much that I can not tell which I like the best.
Hoping this will interest some of your readers, I
remain, your devoted friend, reader, and admirer,
C. K. W JR.

NEW ORLEANS, LA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We, a class of little girls from
eleven to twelve, have enjoyed reading you so much that
we feel we must write and tell you about it.
Our teacher thinks you as instructive as any of the
text-books we study, and when you arrive every month
we read from you as a part of our reading-lesson. We
find this very interesting and entertaining.
Most of us have taken you for a long while, even be-
fore we were old enough to read you, but now we can
praise and appreciate you as you deserve.
Your constant
"LITTLE READERS."


ST. BONIFACE HOUSE, VENTNOR, I. W.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have not yet seen a letter in
the "Letter-box from the Isle of Wight, and I should


877






THE LETTER-BOX.


like to write one about a very interesting donkey there
is on the island. Near Newport, the,capital, are some
ruins of an old castle called Carisbrook. Charles the
First was imprisoned in this castle, and they used to draw
their water from a well-house which may still be seen;
the well is about two hundred feet deep. In this house
is a huge wheel that draws up the water. The wheel is
moved by a donkey walking up and down inside of it,
and keeping it continually in motion. And so for hun-
dreds of years the ancestors of this donkey have been
doing that work, which work seems to agree with them,
as this one is twenty-two years old, and the last one
lived to be nearly forty. I saw in the Letter-box of
August, 1888, a letter from Nice, Francewhich interested
me, as I was in the earthquake, too. I was at Mentone,
near Nice, and the shocks were terrible. I think Mentone
was shaken more than any town of the Riviera. I have
also been to Lucerne, Switzerland, and have been up the
Rigi. We are living in a veryinteresting old house here;
It was the first house in Ventnor. It was once the
Manor House of Bonchurch, and is very old-fashioned.
I remain, your devoted reader,
MARGARET F- .

ALEXANDRIA, VA.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was much amused in
reading about the Two-headed Tortoise in the May
number, as I know of a coincidence. About the year
180o, as Wm. Powell was riding near Goose Creek, in
Londoun County, Va., he picked up just such a tortoise.
It was such a curiosity that he carried it home and put it
in a tub; but, unfortunately, a cat killed it. This Wm.
Powell was the brother of my grea-.ra-indfl'ihi. He
was afterwards drowned in the Shenandoah River. An
account of the tortoise was published in the Gentle-
man's Magazine some time about the year 180o. I have
taken the ST. NICHOLAS ever since I was seven years
old (five years), and have never written a letter for the
box before. I was born in this historic town, as many of
my ancestors were, and I go to Christ Church (the church
attended by Washington). My great-grandfather was a
friend of Washington, and was one of his pall-bearers.
He was afterwards, in 1814, mayor of the town when it was
taken by the British. I own my grandfather's musket
which he shouldered there when he was but a boy.
Yours,
WM. G. P-.

BALTIMORE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been reading you for a
long time, and you have given me a great deal of pleasure.
You have a great number of little readers and ad-
mirers, and I want you to add me. to the rest, for I think
that you are the nicest of all the magazines.
I am almost eleven years old. I have two sisters and
two brothers.
I love "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I went to see it
played; I had never been to the theater before. It was
beautiful.
We live in the country all the year round, and like it
better than town. We have a donkey that really goes,--
it ran away one day,- a beautiful collie dog, and two
pet calves, but I am sorry to tell you that our, lovely lit-
tle goat, brought to us from the West Indies, died dur-
ing the winter. He followed us everywhere; his hair
was as soft as silk.
Yesterday my little brother, three years old, got a let-
ter from our aunt, and he was so pleased that he took it


to mother and a dled her to put it in the bank. Was not
that a funny idea ?
And now, dear ST. NICHOLAR, good-bye!
I remain, your little friend,
HELEN' S. S-

LANCASTER, PA.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about
a snow-white Persian cat that was given to Mamma.
His hair was about one and a half inches long, and his
tail about three inches around. He was very large, and
had a most beautiful cat-face. One night, when he was
about three years old, he ran away, and was found dead.
We called him Cyrus the Persian."
We have taken you ever since you were firstpublished.
Your devoted friend, JANET L. B--R

NEW YORK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little lame girl, eleven
years old; and as I can not run about like other chil-

dren, ST. NICHOLAS is one of my greatest pleasures. I
'went to see Elsie Leslie play Little Lord Fauntleroy,"
aind I liked it, if possible, just as much as the story. I
dressed one of my dolls up as Little Lord Fauntleroy"
in a velvet suit and a red sash.
I have a cat named "Koko," and whenever he hears
my crutches he runs to meet me, and rubs himself
against them.
My sister took you for sixteen years, and now I am
going to take you until I am too old. But I don't think
that time will ever come.
Your loving little friend, FLORENCE C-


BOUND BROOK, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have taken you for three
years, and Papa has you bound every year for a Christ-
mas present to me.
* I think you are a lovely magazine, and I read you to
Mamma while she sews. I read you through from
beginning to end. I saw the Washington Centennial
Parade, with Papa and Mamma, from a large window on
Broadway. I am very glad that I am a little American
girl.
My grandpa H. used to live on the Monmouth battle-
ground, and Mamma and her brothers and sisters were
born there. I suppose that is the reason I love George
Washington so much. We have a little oak table that is
made from the great old tree under which he rested after
he fought the battle. I am nine years old, and I have
no brothers nor sisters. I remain,
Your little friend, HELEN P. H. 0-


We thank the young friends whose names here follow
forpleasantletters received from them: Charlotte Edwina
B., Alice Eisenstaedt, Nina Gray, J. C. Voice, S. W. F.,
Eleanor D., Carolyn Miles, Julia V. C., Margaret B.,
Anna K. W., Mabel C. and Lucy W., Olive Pardee,
Mary P. Earl, Natalie More and Daisy Chauncy, Jessie
P. Evans, H. Balfour, Edward W. Wallace, Clara, Alice,
Georgie, Allan, Grace and May, Mary B. F., C. R. L.,
Maude R. Couder, "The DeF- twins," K. R., Helen
A. Babcock, Harry Overton Schuyler, Richard V. Ryan,
Louise J., Clara Danielson, Marian E. Macgill, Juliet
S. A., Ernest A., Annie Van Winkle, Patty A., Marion
Randall, Mary Randall, and Grace Eldredge.


878















THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centrals, Edgar A. Poe. Cross-words: AN ESCUTCHEON. Centrals, Walter Scott. Cross-words: r. Ains-
I. convEyers. 2. creDits. 3. caGit. 4. cavAlry. 5. contRacts. worth, 2. Hogarth, 3. Wolfe. 4. Watts. 5. Leech, 6. Byron.
6. crAne. 7. chapter. 8. carOche.. 9. cautErize. 7. Liszt. 8. Bacon. 9. Moore. ro. Ate. zx. T.
CHARADE. Larkspur. Pi. In the first drowsy heat of August noon,
ZIGZAG. The Fall of the Bastile. Cross-words: I. Tank. Ere yet the pastures are embrowned and dry,
2. OHio. 3. keEl. 4. halF. 5. ArAb. 6. gLen. 7. Lynx. 8. gOng. Or yet the swallow breathes her parting sigh,
9. leFt. io. hooT. i. acHe. 12. dEan. 13. Bard. 14. cAne. Under the red sun and the crimson moon,
i5. eaSy. z6. lenT. 17. rein.' 8. CLay. 19. Elbe. Greeting us all too soon,
A CLUSTER OF DIAMONDS. I D. 2. Sip. 3. Spare. 4. Dia-
mond. 5. Proud. 6. End. 7. D. II. S.- 2. Saw. 3.Strap. Comes the plumed goldenrod with flaunting train,
4. Sardius. 5. Waist. 6. Put. 7. S. III P. 2. Sea. 3. Pearl. And lifts her yellow head along the way,
4. Art. 5. L. IV. i. T. 2. Top. 3. Topaz. 4. Pan. 5. Z. Where sweet wild roses bloomed but yesterday,
V. A. Age. 3. Agate. 4. Etc. 5. E. V. B. 2. Her. And foamy daisies nodded in disdain
3. Beryl. 4. Rye. 5. L. At July sun and rain.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Cleveland; Centrals, Gladstone. Early Goldenrod," by MRS. ABBIE FRANCES JUDD.
I. CarGoes. 2. LolLing, 3. EntAils. 4- VenDing. 5. EluSion. WORn-SQUARES. I. I Sated. 2. Atone.. 3. Toast. 4. Ensue.
6. LesTris. 7. AlmOner. 8. NooNing. 9. DemEans. 5. Deter. II. I. Satin. 2. Alone. 3. Tolls. 4. Inlet 5. Nests.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. MALTESE CROSS. From I to 5, Simon; 6 to 8, gap; zz to 13,
Spinner of the silken snare, dip; 14 to 18, singe; 19 to 23, taper; 24 to 26, bar; 29 to 31, jot;
Fell Arachne in your lair, 32 to 36, color; 3 to z6, manakin ; 2r to 34, parasol.
Tell me, if your powers can tell, SHAKESPEAREAN DIAGONAL. Diagonals, Pericles. Cross-words:
How you do your work so well I x. Philotus. 2. Leonardo. 3. Mercutio. 4. Lucilius. 5. Borachio.
"THE SPIDER." 6. Benvolio. 7. Fluellen. 8. Polonius.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the I5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St, New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June x5th, from Paul Reese-Louise Ingham
Adams -" Yacht 'Surprise' "-J. B. Swann-" Maxie and Jackspar "-"Infantry"-Pearl F. Stevens-K. G. S.-" Mamma, Aunt
Martha, and Sharley"-"The Wise Five and Charlie "-Jo and I--Helen C. McCleary -"A Family Affair"- Jennie, Mina, and
Isabel- Howard K. Hill- Mary L. Gerrish.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June i5th, from M. Connett, George and Annie, 7-Anna
and Hattie, --Millie W. Maynadier, 2-Esther R., -" Mab and Joker," 2 -Katie Van Zandt, 2-"Nell Rh. and St. Edith,"
3 -"Ophelia," 2- "Queen Bess," --Eleanor Mitchell, --Edith O., i-Ella T. Marston, 2-"Maggie," 2-"Bud and Babe,"
5 Gertrude W. Hill, 3- Arthur B. Lawrence, A. D. Cochran, Mother and Roger C., 2 -" Rocket and Flyer," i Duddie
S., 6 Annie Hecht, 3 Henry Guilford, i Susy W. Adams, 3- Tillie Holmes, i May Martin, 2 Mamma and Marion, 6-
Blanche and Fred, ir--Arline Cochrane and Mamma, 8 -Effe K. Talboys, 9-" Monell," i--Eleuthera Smith, 5- J. H. L., '-
Helen Mar, I-J. R. Sharp, 4 -Alice Wilcox and J. C. H. C., -Aurora, 7-Mathilde, Ida, and Alice, 9-Arthur A. Macurda,
Io-Jo and Mein, 3-" Roseba," 2-" May and 79," Io-Nellie L. Howes, io- Clara and Lucy, 3- Sissie Hunter, 3-L. H. F.
and "Mistie," 7-" Sara Crewe," Maude R. Conder, 4 -Papa and Maud, 3- Josephine Hyde, 2.

DIAMOND. 56-89-2z-66-8i is that point in the heavens directly opposite to the
zenith. My 50-3-34-45 is part of the foot My 39-I4-71-78-37--9-
i. In camel. 2. Encountered. 3. Worth. 4. Those who deal 65-55 is a song of lamentation. My 22-48-84 is a large serpent. My
in silks and woolen goods. 5. Sprightly. 6. Akind of bird. 7. En- 58-43-7-62-74 is selected. My 86-25-95-2-64-30-17-94-73-67 is to
deavors. 8. A chemical term for salt 9. In camel. ..- weaken. My "-68-87-z8-9-8-97 s to squirm. My 82-92-53 is
"NAVAJO." yes. My 47-13-27-49-61-28-77 is pay for services. My 4o-15-31-
DOUBLE ZIGZAGS. 51-36 is a book of the Bible. My 6-44-88 is a pronoun. My 59-23-
B A 72-83-42-80-38-4 are wind-instruments. My 70-63-46-o1 is a rustic.
My 54-2-20-33-57-76 is a composer of beautiful music for the piano.
S" CORNELIA LIMBERR"


S 2 .12
3 13 .
4 4 .
5 5 5
6 6 .
7 7
8 . 18 .
S 9 9
10 20 .

THE diagonals from I to io will spell a festival which occurs on
September 29; from IX to 20, the surname of an eminent English
soldier who died on September 14, 1852.
CROSS-WORDS: i. The name of a small cityin Cheboygan County,
Michigan. 2. One of a class of crabs having the last pair of feet, or
more, terminated by a flattened joint fitted for swimming. 3. The
jurisdiction of a pacha. 4. Like a fish. 5. A fragment. 6. Re-
sembling a petal. 7. Designating the place of. 8. To waste away
in flesh. 9. State carriages. io. Edible roots.
FRANK SELLING.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of ninety-seven letters, and form a quotation from
Lord Chesterfield.
My 60-16-52-26-96-24 is a crate of various forms. My 9-35-79-
69-85--75-29-41 is benefit My 91-32-5-93 is a contest. My


HOUR-GLASS.
I. THE central letters, reading downward, will spell the surname
of a very famous American.
CROSS-WORDS: i. Vexing. 2. To dress for show. 3. Single.
4. In Publicola. 5. To bend. .6. A Hungarian dance. 7. Part
of the day.
II. Centrals, downward, the name of a famous Italian poet.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A company of pilgrims traveling together. 2.
Worth. 3. Energy. 4. In Publicola. 5. A small serpent 6. An
aquatic animal. 7A bigot HELEN MAR AND L. L. A.

CHARADE.
You 'LL find myjfrsr a wild, shrill cry;
My whole is often called a hue.
My last is never loud nor high,
And yet it is to bellow, too.
Do my whole you never could;
Be my whole you never should;
Wear my whole you often would.

COMPARISONS.
I. Positive, an insect; comparative, a beverage; superlative, an
animal. 2. Positive, a coxcomb; comparative, an annoyance; su-
perlative, to vaunt. 3. Positive, a reward; comparative, awe; su-
perlative, a banquet 4. Positive, to travel; comparative, to stab;
superlative, a specter. 5. Positive, a deer; comparative, to bellow;
superlative, to parch. ISOLA.






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. answer to the following definitions: x. An Indian house. 2. To
censure. 3. Bishops and certain clergymen not under regular con-
EACH of the ten pictures, excepting the sixth, may be described trol. 4. Wheat not bearded. 5. A word used in legal proceedings.
by a word of seven letters. When these are rightly guessed and 6. Your own self. 7. A river in Vermont. 8. Incipient. 9. Per-
placed one below the other, the central letters will spell the name of training to a step-mother. o1. An object resembling an insect.
an eminent German natural philosopher who died at Amsterdam,
September x6, 1736, I. A blow gun.
2. Crop hera.
QUADRUPLE ACROSTIC. 3. A chap, Eli.
4. We no that.
ALL of the words described contain the same number of letters. 5. Side size.
When these have been rightly guessed and placed one below the 6. Sole fury.
other, in the order here given, the primalswill spell a feminine name; 7. I woo inks.
the row next to them will spell a word meaning."in thin plates or 8. I cheat? No.
layers "; the finals will spell to implore; the row next to them will 9. Corn vale.
spell bestows. to. To me I nod.
CROSS-WORDS: i. To refer. 2. A kind of plum. 3. Sum. 4. Con-
sisting of lines. 5. To summon. 6. Sickness. 7. A masculine When the above letters have been rightly transposed and the ten
name. F. S. F. words placed one below the other, the first six of the initial letters
PI. will spell an ardent spirit distilled from wine. The last four of the
initial letters will spell the fermented juice of grapes. The ten ini-
A LOGNED heaz slanceco eht rohoniz, tial letters will spell the name of a place where a battle was fought
A dognel ninhuses stlans roscas het wadsome; on September 1, 1777. The first five of the final letters will spell
Eht diper nad ripem fo remsum-meit si noge, the surname of an English writer who lived in Selborne. The last
Tub bayute grinles ni sethe umatun shodwas. five letters spell cultivated ground. The ten final letters will spell
the name of an eminent divine who died September 30, 1770.
O weets preembest! hyt strif sezerbe grinb CYRIL DEANE.
Eht dyr fleas result nda eth quisslerr grathule, EASY RIDDLE.
Het loco, shref ria, chewen thaleh nad vogir ngrips,
Dan spirome fo geecendix yoj rahfertee. I AM a little word composed of five letters. My 1-2-3 make about
half of the human race; my 4-2-3 make so small a number that it
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. can be represented by a single letter; my 3-2-4 make an article
very useful to many persons; my 1-2-4 means encountered; and
THE letters in each of the following ten groups may be transposed my 1-2-3-4-5 names a city noted for its fortress and as being the
so as to form one word. When these are rightly guessed they will place where printing was invented. F. R. F.

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


88o




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