Front Cover
 The fortunes of Toby Trafford
 The sequel
 Little Vemba Brown
 A queer boy
 "David and Goliath" in naval...
 The old man-of-war and the new
 The crows and the farmer
 The boy settlers
 Lady Jane
 A giant with a sweet tooth
 An alphabet of rivers
 Jack and Jill Reynard
 Found in the forecastle
 An old friend
 Through the back ages
 To a little chap
 The wonderful pear-tree
 The gator
 The exclusive old oyster
 A first spelling-lesson
 The mules and the electric car
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00234
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00234
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
        Page 1
        Page 2
    The fortunes of Toby Trafford
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    The sequel
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    Little Vemba Brown
        Page 21
    A queer boy
        Page 22
    "David and Goliath" in naval warfare
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    The old man-of-war and the new
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The crows and the farmer
        Page 30
    The boy settlers
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Lady Jane
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    A giant with a sweet tooth
        Page 52
        Page 53
    An alphabet of rivers
        Page 54
    Jack and Jill Reynard
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
    Found in the forecastle
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    An old friend
        Page 64
    Through the back ages
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    To a little chap
        Page 68
    The wonderful pear-tree
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    The gator
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    The exclusive old oyster
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
    A first spelling-lesson
        Page 81
    The mules and the electric car
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
    The letter-box
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    The riddle-box
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Unnumbered ( 90 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text






THAT was the name of the firm, lettered on
the broad sign over the door, and Toby Trafford
was the boy who stood gazing ruefully at it from
the opposite side of the village street.
The man in the blue frock-coat, with a pink
in the buttonhole, who stopped to speak with
him, was Mr. Frank Allerton, the new school-
master at Lakesend.
"The old sign could stand a new coat of
paint as well as not,-is that what you are
thinking ? he asked. And without waiting for
Toby to reply, he added, "Trafford is your
uncle, I believe ?"
"Oh! no, Mr. Allerton!" Toby faltered a
little as he added, My father."
Indeed I think I 've never seen him about
the store,- have I?" said the schoolmaster,
with a curious downward glance at the boy's
changing countenance.
"No, sir; probably not," said Toby through
close lips.

"Ah! I see A silent partner, perhaps ?"
"Yes, sir,- that is,- "
The boy winked hard, and held his quivering
lips closer still for a moment. His father was
in the saddest sense of the word a silent partner,
and had been for two years. He is dead," he
added, resolutely, after a pause.
Oh! I sincerely beg your pardon, Tobias! "
There was a painful pause in the conversa-
tion, during which Mr. Frank Allerton, a man
not above thirty, but slightly bald, lifted his hat
and arranged a little mat of thin blond hair
combed up carefully from the sides of his head
to cover a bare spot on the crown. He was
always arranging that funny little twist, in
school or out, in church and house and street,
often to the amusement of the boys and girls
who took note of the unconscious habit. Toby
himself had often made fun of it. But he did
not feel at all like making fun of it now.
"I was n't aware, I assure you Mr. Aller-
ton gave the precious knot a final pat with his
palm, under the uplifted hat, before covering
himself. "I 've been so short a time in the

Copyright, 1890, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.

No. I.


place, you know. Your father was formerly
in business here, I infer?"
"Yes, sir. He and Mr. Tazwell were part-
ners for many years. The business is still car-
ried on with his name."


The pupil he had thought indifferent to his
studies and careless of the serious duties of life,
was certainly capable of some feeling.
A subject had been touched that Toby had
longed to talk about with somebody besides
his mother; and it oc-
curred to him that here
perhaps was a chance
to get some good ad-
,1W, .J .i. "It has been ex-
i i il .' pected that I should go
into the store when I
Sam sixteen; and I shall
I be sixteen next month,"
S he said. "But I hate
the store!"
S That 's a little
] strange," replied Mr.
Frank Allerton. "A
store is generally
thought an attractive
opening by boys of your
"Yes; I know many
a farmer's son who
thinks it would be a
fine thing to stand be-
Shind a counter, with
white hands and a clean
collar, and smile at the
girls, and do up parcels.
If I had been brought
up to milk cows and
dig potatoes, I suppose
--... I should think so too."
"And what is there
about it that you es-

"That fact must have a peculiar interest for pecially dislike ?'
you ? remarked the schoolmaster, watching the I suppose th(
boy's face with deepening sympathy. down to any bu,
More perhaps than you think," said Toby, "Anyhow, I hate
with a troubled smile. I 've got to make up like a prison."
my mind about keeping the name on that sign; Would you i
it won't be repainted till I do." nothing very conf
"How so?" Mr. Allerton inquired, saying his head. Or o
to himself at the same time, as he watched said the master,
Toby's working features,-" There 's a great the lake, and tal
deal more to this boy than I ever supposed, His tone and
from merely seeing him in school." together, were sc

" the teacher inquired.
e truth is, I don't care to settle
siness at all," Toby confessed.
Confinement, and the store is

like a farmer's life ? There 's
ining about that." Toby shook
ne of the professions ? Come,"
"'let's take a stroll down by
k this matter over."
manner, as they walked on
o kind and sympathetic that a


warm glow kindled in Toby's heart. It was
now his turn to reflect:
He 's something besides the ridiculous
dandy we fellows have imagined him; there 's
a good heart buttoned under that blue frock-
coat." And he blushed to think of the nick-
name the scholars had given him.
Old Topknot!" he repeated to himself.
Well! there 's more sense under that little
wisp of hair than in all our foolish pates put
Teacher and pupil were soon on excellent
terms; and Toby told his troubles freely.
No, he would not like one of the professions;
too much study was required in preparing for
"I see your difficulty," said Mr. Allerton.
You are like most boys. They want the good
things of life without paying the price for them;
they forget that work itself, the struggle for
success, the satisfaction of accomplishing some-
thing, the employment of our faculties: that
these, too, are the good things of life,- the best
things, I sometimes think! One likes to have
an easy time for a few years, and then take a
man's place in society, having an income and
influence, without earning them by honest en-
deavor. That 's the case with the most of us.
How is it with you, Toby? "
It is my case precisely! I should think you
had known me all my life," said Toby. "I
don't think I 'm a very lazy boy. But I like a
good time and hate anything that interferes
with it. I know it is wrong; I know I 've got
to settle down to something soon. Nearly all
the property my father left was in his business,-
in the store and the bank; it is there yet, wait-
ing for me to work into his place, and keep the
name on that old sign."
"Then why not do it ? Was it his wish ? "
the teacher inquired.
Yes, it was always the talk that Tom Taz-
well and I should go in with our fathers, before
anybody dreamed that my father would-"
Toby hesitated again. He could never speak
of his father's death, even after so long a time,
without painful emotions.
I am glad you have such tender memories
of him," said the schoolmaster.
I never knew what a father he was, while

he was alive," replied Toby. "Then, how I
missed him! I dream of him now sometimes.
He talks to me in his old way,-so good and
kind he added, with dimming eyes.
The schoolmaster hardly knew what to say,
feeling as we all feel sometimes, in the pres-
ence of grief too sacred to be intruded upon by
commonplace words.
After a little while Toby went on.
"I miss his advice so much! But I never
seemed to care for it when he was alive, and I
am afraid I should n't follow it even now."
Maybe not," said the teacher, since you
know what his wishes were, and yet can not
make up your mind to act accordingly."
This argument struck the boy forcibly.
"I suppose I shall have to come to it," he
said. But though I never cared for school, the
thought of leaving it makes me feel how foolishly
I have been wasting my time all along, and
how little education I shall come out with! "
They had reached the lake, and were stand-
ing on the pebbly beach which the bright rip-
ples washed. It was an afternoon in May;
the apple-trees in the village orchards were still
in pink and white bloom, while the ground un-
der the pear-trees was sprinkled with the snow
of fallen blossoms. All along the shore were
gardens and farms and open fields, and, in the
distance, high wooded banks, behind which the
sun was going down.
The two remained silent for a few moments,
watching the reddening tints of the western sky
reflected in the water, beneath the mass of
black pines; then Mr. Allerton resumed:
I 've an idea, Toby. I 'm not one of those
teachers who seem to think it their duty to drive
every boy through a course of Latin and Greek
and mathematics, whether he likes it or not.
But even if you think of going into business,
or becoming a farmer or a mechanic, a certain
amount of education is necessary, for your own
satisfaction, as well as for success in life. You've
been a year in the High School,- can't you
keep on a year or two longer, and enter the
store a little later if you mean to enter it at all ?
Just wake up to the real use and meaning of
study, and I guarantee you 'll never regret it,
whatever work you do afterward! "
He spoke with enthusiasm, and at the same


time gave Toby an inspiring tap on the shoulder, stylish hunting-jacket, and carried an empty
The boy's heart beat with renewed courage and game-bag. A good-sized dog trotted by his
ambition. He was about to reply; but just side.
then the appearance of a young fellow coming The dog was as noticeable as the boy. He be-
longed to some shaggy
-- species, which it was
not easy to determine,
he was so fantastically
shorn. He was closely
clipped, from a huge
ruffle of hair about his
neckto an enormous tuft
.. on his tail, which looked
at a distance like a stick
S. with a bad hat on it.
S .: "How are ye, Tom ?"
said Toby.
The tallboy gave him
San insolent stare as he
passed, and divided be-
tween him and the
schoolmaster a puff of
p smoke from a short pipe,
which he took from his
"Is n't that young

t .,ha sTazwell ?" the teacher
'" inquired, after he had
"- Yes, that's Tom,-
Tom all over! said
.Toby, with a mortified
.- -i air.
"The boy who was
'."" to go into the store with
.. you? He 's wanting
-4.." in one very important
'.' qualification, I should
S er* Y' say, if he was to be
my partner."
"What 's that ?"
"Politeness," said
along the shore, with a dog and a gun, put a the figure of the young hunter with an indig-
stop to the conversation. nant look.
"Tom does make a fool of himself some-
times," Toby replied, blushing for his friend.
THE BOY WITH THE GUN. "I don't see what makes him. Our fathers
HE might have been a year or two older being partners, we have been about as intimate
than Toby. He was quite tall; he wore a as any two boys you ever saw. And yet, when


he meets me in company, he will often put on
airs and treat me as you saw him."
"That's an abominable trait in an acquain-
tance," said Mr. Allerton. "What right has he
to set himself above you? "
I don't know of any, unless it is that his
folks are a little more stylish than mine, live in
a finer house, and indulge him in some things
which mine have never thought good for me,"
said Toby.
Is he in the store ?"
No; he has always said he would wait and
go in with me."
"Then why is n't he at school ? the master
"And there 's another thing," said Toby.
"His folks have always felt, and of course have
made him feel, that he was too good to go to a
public school, with common people's children.
So he goes to a private school, when he goes at
all; which is when he feels like it, and the weather
is fine. He could never quite forgive me for
not going with him; and that 's perhaps one
reason why he feels above me."
Meanwhile the smoke had been seen, and the
report heard, of Tom Tazwell's gun, a short
distance up the lake; and the dog had made a
dash into the water, in which he swam around
with his shaggy head and tail showing like two
balls of dark wool above the surface.
"That 's just like Tom, to fire and send his
dog in, just as if he had killed something! But
there was n't anything; I 've been watching,"
laughed Toby.
He seems to be coming back now; I think
I '11 take a little walk the other way," said Mr.
Allerton, with a smile. That 's your house,
I believe, on the short street running down to
the water ? "
"Yes," replied Toby. "Won't you come
home with me? Mother will be glad to make
your acquaintance."
Not this evening,.thank you." And giving
the mat of hair under his hat a little caress, the
schoolmaster walked briskly away.
Toby was sauntering homeward, lost in
thought, with his head down, when by a
glance from under his cap front, he saw ap-
proaching Tom Tazwell and his dog.
Remembering the recent affront, Toby re-

solved to resent it, and turned aside up the
bank to avoid another encounter.
"Hallo! What 's the row? Where you
bound ? Tom called after him, in the friendliest
manner. Come down here, won't you ? and
have some fun firing at a mark. We '11 set this
tin can afloat on a chip, and see which will knock
it off with a bullet."
I 've something else to think of just now,"
Toby replied sulkily,- although the tin can on
a chip was a temptation.
"What 's come over you?" cried Tom.
Come, Toby! I 've plenty of cartridges."
"I '11 tell you what has come over me!"
said Toby, turning and confronting him. "You
may as well know that I'm not going to put up
with this sort of thing any longer !"
"What sort of thing?" Tom demanded, star-
ing with real or feigned surprise.
Why, this, if you care to know!" ex-
claimed the indignant Toby,-" looking down
on me so pompously one day,.and then mak-
ing friends with me the next; or all in the same
day, or even in the same hour, as you 've done
just now! "
Hey? Blest if I know what you 're talk-
ing about! replied Tom, with a foolish sort
of smile at Toby's flushing face and earnest
"Then it's time you did know, and I am.going
to tell you," said Toby. "At the reunion the
other night, when I spoke to you in the presence
of some girls and asked you a question, instead
of answering like a friend, or even a gentleman,
you looked straight over my head and merely
muttered H'm!' just as if I had been some
impudent fellow claiming your acquaintance."
Oh, Toby! you 're too sensitive. I don't
believe I did that," Tom feebly remonstrated.
"You know you did," said Toby. "And the
same thing at the cattle-fair, last autumn. Once
when I came up to you, what did you do but
coolly turn your back and walk off with your
nose in the air, never giving me a look of
recognition the whole day ? Why was that ? "
"Why, you know, Toby," the accused one
stammered guiltily, I 'm awfully absent-minded
Very well! I don't like that sort of absent-
mindedness in anybody I call a friend; and I


wish you to understand that if I 'm not
enough to be treated civilly by you a
time, I can dispense with your palaver
other time," said Toby, turning to go.
See here, Toby!" Tom called aftel
"What 's the use of our misunderstanding
other ? "
I don't see any use," Toby replied.
like to be friends with you, if we can be I
all the time, and not by fits and start
when you happen to take a notion. I
I 'm not such a swell as you are, and I
try to be."
"I don't know just what you mean
Tom. "But now we 're talking rather f
to each other, let me say-may I, Tob
"Say whatever you please," Toby ans'
wondering what was coming.
"I 've wanted to tell you for some
for your own good," said Tom, with ii
cealed spite.
Out of pure benevo-
lence ?" laughed Toby.
"Well, be benevolent,
and go on." 'l
It's about your per- '
sonal appearance," con- i
tinued Tom. "You are
never up with the times,
Toby. Always a little
below par."
"Oh! thatisit? "said
Toby. I am not nobby a
enough, as you fellows
say, to be recognized by
you in society! Don't __-
I dress decently ? "
That is n't the ques-
tion," Tom replied.
Take that necktie, for

you don't believe me," Tom continued. "You
and I, Toby, ought to hold up our heads higher
than ever, just at this time. After what has
What has happened? Toby's curiosity
was roused.



What's the matter with the necktie ? Toby Don't you know ? Well, it's hardly out yet.
desired to know. It was a present from Mil- But it will be, to-morrow. The whole town will
dred; and I thought it a very pretty one." buzz with it."
Pretty enough," Tom admitted. "But "Something that concerns you and me ?"
pretty is n't the question. The style has all "Well, rather. But you need n't be in a
gone by. Nobody wears it now; nobody." hurry to hear it. Bad news can wait."
I do," Toby retorted bluntly; but perhaps Bad news ? queried Toby anxiously, while
I 'm nobody." Tom continued to tantalize him. "Why don't
I 'm talking for your own interest, though you tell me, if you are going to ?"



Of course I 'm going to tell you. There's
my father just going away from your house
now! said Tom. He has been to tell your
mother what he said I might tell you."
And with astounding coolness he launched
his little thunderbolt.
If Toby was not quite stunned by the news,
it was because he was incredulous.
It can't be! he exclaimed.
"You 'll find out!" said Tom, with a pro-
voking nod, as he turned to go.
But, Tom! Toby called after him. "You
would n't be out with your gun-you would n't
be asking me to fire at a tin can on a chip if
such a thing as that had happened."
Oh, well! I 'm not going to let it trouble
me," replied Tom. "As I said before, you and
I ought to hold our heads higher than ever. I
am going to!"
And, suiting the action to the word, Tom
stalked away with his chin up, followed by his
fantastically shorn dog.



TOBY stood bewildered for a moment, gazing
after him; then started to walk rapidly in the
other direction.
The Trafford home was in an old-fashioned
house standing a little back from the street, with
a grassy front yard, then beginning to be green,
a garden and a fruit-orchard on one side, and on
the other a broad bank sloping down almost to
the water. On that bank grew a solitary pine-
tree, just far enough away, and tall enough, not
to cast the shade of its majestic top on the roof
in the afternoon, nor to intercept the view of the
lake from the upper windows. Out of one of
those windows a girl's bright young face was
looking, as Toby hurried up from the shore,
panting with haste and his burden of bad news.
You 're a pretty fellow, to keep supper wait-
ing in this way! the girl called out, in silvery
tones, as soon as he came within hearing.
"What was your quarrel with Tom Tazwell? "
Has Tom's father just been here? Toby
asked, anxiously.
"Answer my question and I will answer
yours," the silvery voice replied, with a provok-

ing laugh, from the open casement. "Was that
Mr. Allerton with you before Tom came ? Why,
how cross you look, Toby "
"Where's mother ?" demanded Toby. And
without waiting to hear her evasive reply, he
pushed through the half-open gate and entered
the house.
An expression of concern came over the girl's
face as she withdrew from the window. A very
amiable, sweet face it was, I hasten to say, lest
the reader should rashly conclude, from witness-
ing this little scene between brother and sister,
that Mildred Trafford was somewhat of a vixen.
She was no more vixenish than he was quarrel-
some. There was a tie of sincere affection
between them, as you would quickly have dis-
covered if ever you had spoken ill of one in the
presence of the other.
But they were like many brothers and sisters,
such as we have all known, but have never our-
selves been, of course. Who of us ever hectored
a sister or teased a brother? That was what
Toby and Mildred Trafford did to each other
almost every day of their lives, not from down-
right ill nature, for they were good-hearted
children, but from early habit, which they should
long since have outgrown. Mildred was a year
and a half older than Toby, and he was almost
It is something serious," she said to herself,
with a twinge of regret for the irritating words
she had flung out when he turned up at her that
disturbed face. What was the trouble between
him and Tom? And what had been, just now,
the elder Tazwell's solemn errand to their
mother ?
She presently went down-stairs, and found
Toby, alone as she thought, seated by a window,
with the sunset light from over the lake shining
upon his agitated face.
Why, Toby," she said, what 's the matter ?
I did n't think there was anything, when I an-
swered you in that funning way."
"Ask her," said Toby, in a choked voice.
Then Mildred turned and saw, in a shadowy
corner, a small dark figure that, with the western
light in her eyes, she had not observed before.
It was her mother, silently weeping.
"For mercy's sake, what is it ?" Mildred.
asked, now thoroughly alarmed.


It is nothing it will do any good to cry
about," said Mrs. Trafford, resolutely drying her
eyes. We have met with a misfortune, my
child. I was excited by what Mr. Tazwell had
been telling me before Tobias came in. Will
you tell her, Tobias? "
Toby sat silent, with gloomy brows. Mrs.
Trafford drew a deep, quivering breath. Mil-
dred turned her scared looks from one to the
other, and entreated them to speak.
You know," said Toby, I have been think-
ing of going into the store along with Tom."
Yes," replied Mildred; "only you could n't
quite decide about it."
Well," said Toby, "it has been decided for
me. Some other things have been decided too.
Trafford & Tazwell have failed."
Failed ? repeated Mildred. She evidently
did not understand.
"The firm is bankrupt," said Toby. "It
can't pay its honest debts."
But we are not to blame for that, are we ?
I am sure worse things might have happened,"
she replied, with a dazed look.
That is bad enough," said Toby. Mother
never had a settlement with Mr. Tazwell. Al-
most everything we had was in his hands. And
now, what are we going to do ? What am I fit
for? And mother,-she can't go to making
dresses or keeping boarders. What would
father say ? he went on, bitterly. "Think of
its happening with his name on the old sign! "
Does it leave us without anything ? asked
Mildred in dismay.
Mrs. Trafford hoped it was not quite so bad
as that. She was dressed in black, a slight,
sensitive, nervous woman, with small, fine fea-
tures, and bright hazel eyes that shone with
spirit now that she had dried her tears. She
had meant to dry them before they were seen
by the children for the sake of whom they
were shed.
"We own this place," said Toby.
"If it cannot be taken to pay the debts of
the firm," his mother replied, and Mr. Taz-
well assures me it cannot. But he has assured
me of so many things that have not turned out
quite as he has said they would, I am beginning
to lose confidence in him. I ought not to say
it to you, children; I ought not to say it at all;

perhaps I ought not to think it. But there has
been gross mismanagement-to say the least."
How long has it been going on?" Toby
"I don't know. Never till this day has he
given me a hint that the business was not flour-
ishing," she explained. True, it has been hard
for me to get.much money from him, for a year
or more; I have had barely enough for our ex-
penses as you know."
"While look at the way the Tazwells have
lived! exclaimed Toby.
"In their new house, which they have built
within two years! struck in Mildred; "while
we have had to be content with our old one 1"
She had felt that. "Why has n't he told you
what was coming? "
"Because he says he wished to spare my
feelings; and because he hoped the firm might
pull through."
The widow was accustomed to speak of the
"firm," although Mr. Tazwell had had no part-
ner since her husband's death. She had con-
tinued to feel that the main interest of the
family was in the business which the father had
built up, and which the son was expected to
work into in his turn.
He built it up," she said, and took Thomas
Tazwell into partnership,- he was only his
clerk, before -and trusted him as he would a
brother. In his will he left everything to me,
as you know,- to be used for your benefit, of
course. It was his wish that I should keep an
interest in the business for you, Toby; and that
I should consult Mr. Tazwell on all important
matters. I have done so; and as long as we
have had a comfortable income, I have been
What does the man say for himself? Toby
asked, impatiently.
He says the business of the store has fallen
off since the railroad was completed, instead of
being helped by it as was expected. People
who used to do all their trading here, now find
it convenient to do a large part of it in the city.
But it is the banking business that has suffered
most. Your father was very cautious in that,
and he always meant to keep it subordinate.
But Mr. Tazwell enlarged it; and hard times
and bad loans have ruined him."


And the West Quarry bonds ? Toby asked.
"That is one of the transactions that have
caused me to lose confidence in Mr. Tazwell.
It was by his advice that I bought them."
From him ? "
Of course," said the widow. "That was a
year and a half ago. I took them in place of
money due me, on his assurance that they were
perfectly good. But the interest has been paid
on them -only once since, and I fear they are
worthless. He has promised to make good to
me the final loss, if there should be any,- which
he would never admit; so I have felt easy about
them. But now what can I think? It is all a
tangled affair. I have been very much to
blame," the widow declared.
No, Mother! cried Mildred, dropping on
a hassock beside her and clasping her hands.
" How can you say that, since father advised
you to be guided by Mr. Tazwell's advice?
How could you know? She shall not blame
herself. Shall she, Toby ? "
What's done can't be helped," said Toby,
gloomily. How about the lake-side lot ? "
"That came to me like the bonds," replied
the widow. Mr. Tazwell turned over to me
a mortgage, which has had to be foreclosed.
So I have that unproductive piece of land. He
has promised to make that good, too, but what
can all such promises be worth to us now ? I
should have guarded your interests better!"
she went on, with keen self-reproach, "but I
have been as ignorant of business as a child."
"How could you be otherwise?" returned
Mildred, still on her knees, holding both her
mother's hands and looking up lovingly and
anxiously into her face. "Toby why don't you
say something to comfort her ? "
It is for me to comfort you, my dear, good
children," said the widow, her tears starting
again at these words of sympathy.
Of course, you 're not to blame," Toby
muttered, running his fingers fiercely through
his hair,-a dark auburn, to which the western
light gave a reddish tinge, as he rumpled it over
his forehead. "That Tom!" he added, as if
thinking aloud. "Going to hold his head
higher than ever, is he? The whole family
will, I suppose, for that matter."
"Don't say a word against Mrs. Tazwell, I

beg of you! exclaimed his mother. It is n't
her doings, nor dear little Bertha's, nor Tom's."
"Think of him out gunning this very after-
noon! Toby couldn't get over that. And
telling me the news almost as if it was a joke! "
Never mind him now," said Mildred. I
want mother to feel that she is not to be wor-
ried on our account. We can manage to live.
You and I can do something, can't we, Toby ? "
My darling, darling child said the widow
with a gush of grateful affection. Releasing
one hand, she gave the beautiful young head in
her lap a passionate caress. You make me
very happy! "
Toby, still grumbling and glowering over
Tom's treatment of him that afternoon, had to
turn his face to the window and wink away a
tear. Then he rose and walked excitedly about.
If only the business had been what we sup-
posed it was, then I should know what I would
do he said.
How little had he thought that he would
ever regret not going into the store! But now
it seemed to him that he had missed such a
chance as might never come again.


AFTER a meeting of the creditors, Mr. Taz-
well called again upon the widow. He was a
tall man, very neatly dressed, with a decided
stoop in the shoulders, and a genial, persuasive
manner. He stooped still more, in the most
expressive, sympathic way, taking her passive
little hand in his cordial grasp, when she re-
ceived him in her small parlor.
"You did wrong," he said, "not to attend
the meeting to-day."
It would have done no good for me to be
present," Mrs. Trafford replied. I know noth-
ing about business. And the whole thing is
too distressing."
"There you are wrong again," he said,
dropping his gloves in his hat, which he placed
on the table. "You ought not to take it so
to heart, as I said to you the other day. My
dear woman!" he continued, with moist, sym-
pathetic eyes, "it will all come out right; never
fear. I made the creditors a proposition, which


will undoubtedly be accepted; if it is, the busi-
ness will go on as before. Then, if I live,
my dear Mrs. Trafford, everything shall be
made right, to the last dollar. I wish you could
have been present, if only to see how carefully
I guarded your interest."
A sad, incredulous smile was her only reply.
Although you have kept, in a certain sense,
an interest in the business," he proceeded, flood-
ing her with the sunshine of his friendliest smile,
" I convinced the creditors that you are in no
way responsible for the failure -"
I should say not 1 she exclaimed, with a
sparkle of her bright brown eyes.
Which was easy enough," he admitted; "and
that your husband's estate should not be held
liable for any of the debts. That was not so
easy. But I urged the point on the grounds
of humanity; and it was conceded. Not one,
not one of you, I am sure,' I said, would wish
to distress a poor widow.' So, in the settle-
ment, you will be regarded simply as a creditor,
not as a partner."
I don't pretend that I understand it all,"
Mrs. Trafford replied. But it does seem only
just that our little inheritance should not be
seized for debts incurred since my husband died,
and which I have known nothing about."
Absolutely just, Madam. Yet some of the
creditors might make trouble for you, if I had
not created so warm a feeling in your favor."
I am certainly obliged to you," said the
widow, wondering whether, after all, she had
not done this man injustice. "You spoke of a
proposition. I don't suppose I can understand
it, but I should like to know what it was."
It was this," Mr. Tazwell replied, put-
ting the fingers of his two hands together, to
help him along in his explanation; the upshot
of which was, that he had offered to settle with
his creditors by paying thirty cents on a dollar.
"That seems very little she exclaimed.
But it is more than they could get if they
should force me into bankruptcy," he smilingly
argued. I can pilot the wreck into port bet-
ter than any other man; in other words, by go-
ing on with the business, I can do better for the
creditors than they can do for themselves. They
see that. And, my dear woman!--"

Then came out the real motive of his visit,
which was, to induce her to accept his thirty
cents on a dollar. He took the agreement from
his pocket; however, she declined to sign it.
Not now," she said. I must know more
about the matter first. I fear I may be wrong-
ing my children."
I thank you for mentioning them," Mr.
Tazwell blandly replied, making a tube of the
paper in his delicate hands. It brings me to
a matter which I wish to speak to you about.
Your son Tobias. What is he going to do? "
"I don't know Of course, he has given up
all idea of going into the store."
Why so ? You are really taking this affair
too seriously, Mrs. Trafford. I shall always
consider," he went on, "that you have an in-
terest in the business, and that the son of my
old partner and best friend belongs in that store.
There will be a change, under the new organi-
zation. I shall have to cut down expenses by
taking Thomas in; why not have Tobias go
in too ? He will begin with a small salary, and
end-I have no doubt-as a partner. I don't
believe he can find anywhere a better opening,"
he concluded, making a confident gesture with
his roll of paper.
This was a new surprise to the widow.
"But if the business is falling off, as you
have said, -"
"I see ways of building it up again," he
interrupted her. Are you aware of the fact
that Lakesend is destined to become a great
summer resort ? This season there will be more
visitors here than ever before. They all bring
business; and we propose to keep the cream of
it, as we have always done. Where is Tobias ?
I wonder what he will say to the plan ? "
Tobias was in the adjoining room, and could
not help hearing a large part of this conversa-
tion; but he did not come forth to answer the
visitor's question.
So you don't feel quite ready to sign this
agreement? Mr. Tazwell remarked, as he
was about to go. "I think you had better.
You will be doing only what all the rest do;.
for unless all sign it, of course it will amount to.
nothing. Come, my dear woman! "
And Mrs. Trafford signed.

(To be continued.)



MY rudeness, as usual, was entirely uninten-
tional; I meant to have given him my undi-
vided attention. But the long roll of the
steamer, the soft ocean breeze, and the flapping
wings of the sea-gulls must have overpowered
me. At all events I slept, and heard only the
The steamer ran between Calcutta and Liv-
erpool, and was on her return voyage. Among
the passengers was Mr. Chubaiboy Mudjahoy,
supposed to be an East Indian gentleman from
the interior. Attracted by his quiet and intel-
lectual face, I had become well acquainted with
him, and our acquaintance had grown, during
the long voyage, almost to intimacy. Upon
the day of which I am speaking we had been
much together. He grew communicative, and
at last proposed to tell me the story of his life.
To my surprise, he said that the impression
that he was an East Indian was without foun-
dation in fact; that he came from Thibet, from
an unknown district of that unexplored region.
If I remember correctly, he related a mar-
velous story of having entered into competition
for the hand of a neighboring princess. This
part, so far as I recall it, was quite in the old-
fashioned fairy-tale style; and the tests required
of the candidates were certainly astounding.
One I remember vaguely was to bring the favor-
ite uncut pigeon's-blood ruby from the Rajah
of Camaraputta, a cruel Indian magnate.
Here it was, however, that the sea began to
gently roll, the breeze to soothingly blow, and
the sea-gulls to drowsily flap their limber wings.
I slept some time, for when, thoroughly refreshed,
I blinked hazily to waking, all I heard was:
"And so I married the Princess! "
I was sorry to have lost the story, for it was,
no doubt, just the sort I like. But I did not
dare to confess my doze, so I said as brightly as
I could:
And lived happily ever after! "
Mudjahoy moved uneasily and replied:

Well, hardly. Of course I expected to;
but then you know that real life is often differ-
ent from what the kindly story-tellers would
have it. No. I can't say we lived happily

:, --
'M ^ ^ -'^.'

K1 I .
'B -i
r I
'%Y~~Z- -

ever after. Nor was it Dorema's fault. I have
met a number of princesses, and I really can
not see that my Dorema has any superiors."
How then do you explain it?" I asked.
(Of course I had to be a little cautious in my
questions, for fear of bringing up references to
points I had missed during my nap.)
I '11 tell you the story, if you have not heard
too much already ? "
Oh, no! I replied; "not at all too much.
Pray go on."
So Mudjahoy told me the second part. I have
always regretted that I heard only this sequel.
I tell it in his words:
You can see that after having accomplished
such a series of tasks I was sure to be respected
and envied at court. We passed the honey-
moon in the mountains, and as we took but a
small retinue, several thousands, Dorema often
spoke of the strange solitude as a delicious rest
after the bustle and turmoil of court life.


For my part, even in my happiness with Do-
rema,-she was really charming!--I found the
retinue something of a bore. At home, I had
never been attended by more than three or four
servants, while here I had to find employment
and use for a hundred times as many. It was
really one of the minor nuisances of my new
If the old King had not abdicated, it would
have been easier; but now all his servants were
added to the new ones purchased or given as
wedding-presents to me.
It was like this :
If I wished to shave in the morning in the
old days, I would heat some water, strop my
razor and whip up some lather, and shave
away; but as a king it was very different. As
a king, I had first to clap my hands. Enter a
small boy in white linen. To him I intimated
my desire to see one of the high officials. High
official arrives, and I say: "We wish to shave
our effulgent self." High official says: "Oh,
very good, Most Particularly Noble Cousin of
the Dog-star," and so on. Then he disappears
and sends the Chamberlain to tell the Seneschal
to tell the Chief Barber that his Imperial Master
wishes to be shaved. Not to weary you, after
some more, many more, wholly unnecessary and
irritating ceremonies, behold me ready to be
I am extended at length in a chair, being
lathered by the First Latherer in Waiting, while
the Bowl-holder or one of his assistants stands
by with the lathering mug, and is supported by
the Brush Receiver. The Chief Barber sits in
state, fanned by two slaves, while the Razor-
Stropper Extraordinary (a very powerful and
much courted personage, as expert ones are
rare) is getting the razor to an edge. He also
is fanned by a fan-bearer or two. The Lord-
High-Wielder of the Towel, and the Bay-Rum
Custodian, also with attendants, are near, and
in the ante-room I hear a confused murmur of
voices, showing that the Court Surgeon and
Court-Plaster-Bearer are, with their retinues,
within call.
It was not so much the crowd of people that
annoyed me, but then it took so long to be
shaved. We would begin at, say, ten o'clock,-
they would n't hear of my getting up earlier!-

and frequently when the last bit of lather was
removed from my royal ear, it would be half-
past one in the afternoon !
I give this only as a sample part of my day.
It is vividly recalled because it was one of the
earliest of the inconveniences attaching to my
newly acquired royalty. Of course it is only a
specimen brick-there were dozens of a similar
It was only after I returned to the capital and
took up my residence in the palace, that I felt
sufficiently at home to make an objection.
One memorable day, a Thursday, I betook
myself to my dressing-room and clapped my
hands thrice. The linen-wrapper boy entered.
I hated the sight of him already.
Bring us a new turban," I said shortly.
Brother-in-Law of the Pleiades--"said
the boy in a trembling tone.
Speak up, copper-colored child," I answered
a little impatiently. What are you afraid of? "
0 your Imperial Highestness of the Solar
System, your rays need clipping 1" replied the
boy violently making salams.
I was shaved yesterday," I said.
"But- began the boy.
By the royal Palanquin! I broke out.
"send in the Master of Ceremonies!" The boy
vanished, and soon with a sound of bugles,
shawms, and tubas (several out of tune, too), the
Master of Ceremonies, and his retinue, came in.
This took about half an hour. When they were
all settled I said :
"O Master of Ceremonies and -and such
things (I forgot the proper titles for a mo-
ment), "we would hold converse with thee apart,
as it were."
Again the wind instruments were wound, the
brass band and retinue took its devious course
along the corridors, and the music and marching
gradually died away. This took about twenty
Now that we are alone," said I to the Mas-
ter of Ceremonies, "let's have a reasonable talk."
Nephew of-! he began.
"Never mind the astronomy," I broke in,
"but proceed to business."
Yes, Sire," he answered in a terrible fright,
no doubt expecting the bowstring.
Don't be a fool! said I. "I 'm not going

189o.] THE SEQUEL. 15

to hurt you. Stand up and
have some style about
So he did, somewhat re-
"Now," I said, "I 'm / .
tired of all this fuss. Bring .
me a razor, and I '11 shave
myself." ..
But, your Serene Im- F
perialness--" i
"See here! I said posi-- -,
tively; there 's not a hearer
around. Just drop the titles -' .
and call me Mudjahoy or '
I '11 have you beheaded!"
"Well, Mudjahoy," said X
the Master of Ceremonies
easily. I 'm afraid that
it can't be done!"
Can't be done ? Am I
the Emperor of this place,
or-what am I ?""
"Why, of course, Mud-
jahoy, you're Emperor, and
all that," he answered with, '
an ease of manner that sur- ,-- .--
prised me; "but then there
are a great many things to '
be considered."
"Well, go on," said I; '
"but I 'd like to have this __.
thing settled one way or. '
the other. Speak freely." ..,
It's just this way," said
the Master of Ceremonies: I ,
" what would you do with "
the Chief Barber ?" .
"Do with the Chief
Barber ? Why, nothing.
He could do with himself." -
"But his salary is enor- -
mous." "
Cut it down." 'r,
But he is a very influen- ....-- '.
tial man; he has dependent
upon him, directly or indi- '. '
rectly, about twenty thou-
sand men, and these men
with their families are a

b1 THE SEQUEL. [Nov.

powerful faction. Then, too, the officials whose same way you could justify any foolishness
duties are similar-such as the First Turban- whatever. You would prevent all reforms."
Twister, the Sandal-Strapper and his under- Oh, no! said the Master of Ceremonies;


strappers, and so on-would make common
cause with him. You see ?"
Yes, I see," I said thoughtfully; but in the

"oh, no, Mudjahoy. Not reforms, but rev-
olutions. You can very easily institute reforms;
but you must go slowly."



-~~ -.-- J


"But," I objected, "you as the official in
charge of ceremonies may well be prejudiced.
Let us have the Grand Vizier summoned."
"That will take an hour, at least," answered
the Master of Ceremonies, who really seemed
a very nice fellow when you knew him well.
Well, you slip out and get him on the sly,"
I answered, with an unofficial wink.
"All right, Mudjahoy," he said, and out he
went whistling a popular air.
While he was gone, it occurred to me that I
was now a married man, and that Dorema was
certainly entitled to know of the step which I
was contemplating. So, by the aid of four or
five assistants, I caused her to be summoned.
She arrived a moment before the Grand
Vizier made his appearance.
"I have called you, my dear Mrs. Mudjahoy
-" I began, but she interrupted me.
"You must n't call me that! she said, look-
ing shocked.
"Why not ? I asked.
"You must say,' my Imperial Consort,' she
replied, taking a seat upon a divan.
Oh, no. Mrs. Mudjahoy is a pet name," I
explained. She was pacified, and I proceeded:
I have called you, Mrs. Mudjahoy, to be pres-
ent at the beginning of a Great Reform. I am
about to make our life simpler, more enjoyable,
and less burdensome in every way."
Do you find it burdensome so soon ?" she
asked reproachfully, turning away her lovely
head and trying to coax out a sob.
I saw I had made a mistake. "Not at all,"
I answered hurriedly; "but--here comes the
Grand Vizier; you listen attentively, and you
will soon understand it all."
The Grand Vizier entered. He seemed ill at
ease, and I saw that he had a scimitar under
his caftan.
"What does the Celestial Orb require of the
humblest of his slaves ?" said the Grand Vizier,
prostrating himself.
Oh, get up!" I said wearily. Then I asked
the Master of Ceremonies to explain how the
interview was to be conducted. So while Do-
rema and I exchanged a few tender nothings
about the weather, the Master of Ceremonies
explained to the Grand Vizier the nature of the
conversation I had held with him that morning.

The Grand Vizier seemed much impressed. I
saw him tap his forehead inquisitively and feel
for his scimitar. But the Master of Ceremonies
soon reassured him. Then they turned to me.
"See here, Mudjahoy, old man," began the
Vizier, with a refreshing absence of convention-
ality. Dorema looked horrified. She was about
to clap her hands, undoubtedly to order the
Vizier's instant execution, but I restrained her.
Vizier," I said, I do not care for ceremony,
but civility is a sine qua non." (That staggered
him; he was weak on Latin.) "So drop the
titles, but proceed carefully. Now go on."
He went on: Mudjahoy, sire, I have been
told of your contemplated reforms, and I am
bound to tell you, as an honest adviser, that
they will not work. You propose to dismiss
the Chief Barber?"
"I do," said I firmly.
"And, I suppose, the Turban-Twister, and
so on ? "
"And to live in a simple and businesslike
way ? "
"I do," I replied.
Well," said he, spinning his turban upon his
forefinger and looking at it with one eye closed,
it will never do in the world never There
was formerly an autocrat who tried to run this
government on business principles, and -" he
paused and sighed.
"Where is he ? I asked.
"The Garahoogly contains all that is mortal
of him,--in a sack!" said the Grand Vizier
Dorema clung to me and looked at my face
"No matter," I said determinedly; "I shall
carry out these reforms."
"You will fail," said the Master of Ceremo-
nies, and the Grand Vizier nodded solemnly.
So be it !" I said. "Kismet. I shall there-
fore request you, Grand Vizier, to give public
notice of the abolition of all useless offices, of
which I will give you a list after dinner."
"But consider!" said Dorema, in a low,
frightened tone.
Would you rather be the Imperial Consort
Dorema, Queen and Empress of King Chubai-
boy the First," I asked her proudly, and have


to be at the beck and call of all these palace
nuisances,- or would you rather be my own
Mrs. Mudjahoy, free to do as you please? "
For a moment she hesitated, and I trembled.
But, brightening up, she asked: "And travel
incog.? "
"Certainly," I answered; "nay, more: live
incog. wherever we choose!"
"I 'm for Reform and Mrs. Mudjahoy," re-
plied my lovely bride.
The Vizier and Master of Ceremonies remained
respectfully silent during our interview. Then
the Vizier asked me: "Do you intend to abol-
ish the Royal White Elephant? "
"Precisely," I answered. That albino sine-
cure will be the first to go on the list."
Is your life insured ? asked the Master of
Ceremonies politely but impressively.
No," I said. Dorema sighed. But," said
I, you will see that the whole people will hail
me as their deliverer."
We shall see," said the Vizier, but I did n't
like the inflections he chose.
Declaring the interview at an end, I dismissed
my ministers, said farewell to my brave queen,
and gave the rest of the day to the preparation of
the List. It was comprehensive and complete.
"There!" said I, as I laid down my reed
pen and corked the inkhor; to-morrow will
look upon an enfranchised people!"
But the Grand Vizier was a man of consider-
able wisdom. We were awakened the next
morning by a confused sound of murmuring
beneath the palace windows. I rose and threw
open the flowered damask curtains.
The whole courtyard was filled with a tumul-
tuous mob armed with an assortment of well-
chosen weapons. They carried banners, hastily
made but effective, upon which I read at a
glance a few sentences like these:
Down with the Destroyer of our Homes! "
Chubaiboy to the Garahoogly "
We must have our White Elephant! "
"The Chief Barber or Death!"
"Turban-Twister Terrors!" and so on. Before
I could read more, I saw the Chief Barber on
the back of the White Elephant at the head of
the mob. He was a Moor.
0 Chubaiboy! said he, wielding a bright
razor so that he reflected the rays of the morn-

ing sun into my eyes. "Will you abdicate, or
shall it be the sack and the gently flowing
Garahoogly? "
"Where is the Grand Vizier?" I said, after a
moment's hesitation.
Here, your Majesty," answered that official.
I saw he was in command of the right wing of
the mob. He looked very well, too.
And the Master of Ceremonies ? "
"Here, your Highness," was the answer.
He apparently led the left wing.
"And are you both against me ? I asked.
"We are!" they answered respectfully, but
with considerable decision.
"And where are my adherents ? I shouted.
Here! said a sweet voice at my side. It
was Dorema.
"Here said another soft voice. It was the
boy in starched linen. I almost liked him at
that moment.
"Any others ?"
Then there followed a silence so vast that I
could hear a fly buzzing derisively on the
window-pane above me.
"And you are not in harmony with the Ad-
ministration? I asked the mob.
"No! It was unanimous.
"Very well," I said. "Then I resign, of
course. Let me thank you, my late subjects,
for your proiipt and decisive interest in public
affairs. I had meant to carry out some much-
needed reforms, and I had some thoughts that
they would fill a long-felt want. Thanking you
for this early serenade, and with the highest re-
spects for you all and for all your families, from
myself and from Mrs. Mudjahoy, I abdicate.
Good-bye! "
There were some cheers, I think from Dorema
and the linen-coated boy. Then the mob cheered
for the Chief Barber, and I saw that my suc-
cessor was already chosen.
We left that afternoon, and purely as a matter
of humanity took the linen-coated boy with us;
for I felt sure that he would not be popular nor
long-lived if he should remain at home. He
is a little afraid of me, but is useful.
We made our way to Calcutta, and took the
steamer for Liverpool.

At this moment Mr. Mudjahoy was inter-


rupted. His graceful wife came to his chair
and touched him on the shoulder.
"Come," she said. "It is chilly on deck."
"Certainly," answered Mudjahoy, rising;
"but let me first present my friend to you."
I was presented, and soon after said:
Mr. Mudjahoy disbelieves the fairy-tales."

I do not understand ? said Mrs. Mudjahoy.
"He thinks that the hero and princess are
not always 'happy ever after,'" I said.
Why,-but they are! said Mrs. Mudjahoy.
"Are n't they Chubaiboy ? "
On reflection, I think so too !" said he.
Then they bade me good-night.


I ovember

Now the cold wind rattles
Inthe icy sedge,
And the sparrows ruffle
In the leafless hedge'

Past thewood and meadow,
On the frozenpool
All the boys go skating,
When they come from school.

The river too was frozenT;'
I saw it far away ,
And wished that Icould trace it.
Skating night and day,

Up to where the ice-bergs-,
On the polar sea,
Float,like glittering castles,
Waiting there for me.



BY M. M. D.

VEMBA was a new name in the Brown fam-
ily; and, very properly, it was given to a brand-
new girl, the sweetest, prettiest mite of a girl,
in fact, that ever had been given to the Brown
household. To be sure, six years before they had
welcomed a Morris Brown nearly as small and
sweet and pretty, and, later on, a Harris Brown,
who began life as a baby of the very first qual-
ity; but they, both, were boys. And here was
a girl! She was so new that she did not know
Morris and Harris were in the house. Think
of that And if she had noticed them, she would
not have had the slightest idea who they were.
Dear me How very well acquainted the three
became after a while! But at first, when the
little girl was only a few weeks old, she was
still quite a stranger to the boys and had no
other name than Miss Brown; yet she had the
air of owning not only Mr. and Mrs. Brown,
but all the family, and the very house they lived
in. Why, the King of the Cannibal Islands
himself could not have made her change coun-
tenance unless she chose to do so.
Well, there they were,- Morris Brown, aged
six years, Harris Brown, aged three, and Miss
Brown of hardly any age at all. These were
the Brown children.
A bonny little lady," said Uncle Tom, who
had come all the way from Philadelphia to take
a look at the baby. At this point of time, as he
gazed at her through his spectacles, all the
family crowded around; the boys, proud and
happy, stood on either side of him to hear what
his opinion might be.
"A bonny little lady," repeated Uncle Tom;
" and now, Stephania, what are you going to
call her?"
He turned so suddenly upon Mrs. Brown, in
his brisk way, that it made her start.
"Dear me! I-I-don't know," she an-
swered. "Some novel, pretty name, of course;
something fanciful; but we have n't settled upon
one yet."

"Why not call her Stephania, after you and
me?" asked Grandmamma, brightly.
"Oh, dear, no," sighed Mrs. Brown; "I 'd
like something not so horri- I mean, some-
thing more fanciful than that!"
Well, I declare !" exclaimed Grandmamma,
and she closed her lips as if resolved never to
say another word about it.
"We have thought of Marjorie," remarked
Mr. Brown, with a funny twinkle in his eyes,
" and, ahem! two or three others,- Mabel, for
instance, and Ida, and Irene, and Clara, and
Jean, and Olivia, and Francesca, Florence, too,
and Lily, and Alice, and Elinor, and Anita, and
Jessie, and Dora, and Isabel, and Bertha, and
Louise, and Candace, and Alma; but Stephania
condemns every one of them as too plain or too
hackneyed. The fact is, all the pretty names
are used up."
Just then the wind howled dismally; sere
and yellow leaves whirled past the windows.
Goodness, what weather! exclaimed
Grandmamma. "Bleak even for November -
is n't it? "
Here 's sunshine, though," murmured Mrs.
Brown, cheerily. "You 're a littlee pessus bit
of booful sunshine, so you is, even if you is a
poor 'itty 'Vember baby! and she fell to kiss-
ing Miss Brown in the most rapturous manner.
"Ha! there it is! cried Uncle Tom. Vem-
ba's hername. Her mother has said it. Letus
call her Vemba! "
Every one laughed, but Uncle Tom was in
earnest; besides, he had to take the afternoon
train back to Philadelphia,- and you know how
They always rush matters through in Philadel-
It's a good name, and new," he said, nod-
ding his head in a rotary way that somehow
took in Mr. Brown, Mrs. Brown, Grandma
Brown, Morris Brown, Harris Brown, and Miss
Brown. "It's a good name. Think it over.
I must be off!"



"Vemba, from November ?" cried Grandma.
"What a bleak name! Do you want the poor
child to be a .shadow on the house ?" and the
dear old lady flourished her knitting as she
Whether it was the gleam of the long needles,
or Uncle Tom's frantic but slow way of putting
on his coat,-or whether Miss Brown, catching
Grandma Brown's words, had suddenly resolved
to show them that she had n't the slightest in-
tention in the world of being a shadow on the
house, I do not know. But certain it is she
smiled,- smiled the brightest, sunniest little
smile you can imagine.
All the family were delighted. The boys
shouted, Papa laughed, Mamma laughed, Un-
cle Tom laughed, and Grandma exclaimed,
"Well, I never!"
She 's answered you, Grandma," cried Uncle
Tom, bending down with only one sleeve of his
overcoat on,- and actually kissing the baby,-
"she has answered you. Ha, ha! No clouds
about her; you see she's a sunshine-girl. Well,

good-bye, little Vemba! good-bye, all," and he
was out of the room and on his way to the train
before the baby had time to blink.
Well, to make a long story short, the more
they thought about the new name, the better
they liked it. Besides, Morris and Harris, who
adored Uncle Tom, would hear of no other.
Papa declared it was not half bad," and even
Mamma admitted that at least it was not com-
monplace. Meantime, the baby fell into a pleas-
ant sleep.
When she awoke her name was Vemba Brown.
That was four years ago, this November, and
now every one says that of all the sweet, sunny,
bright little girls in New York, Vemba Brown
is the sunniest, brightest, and sweetest. She is
now thoroughly acquainted with Morris and
Harris; and as for Uncle Tom-well, you
should have seen her hug and kiss him the other
day when that gentleman told the wee maiden
that bleak November would soon be here, and
gave her a beautiful new Fall walking-suit and
a soft white muff to keep her little hands warm!


By W. H. S.

HE does n't like study, it weakens his eyes,"
But the "right sort" of book will insure a surprise.
Let it be about Indians, Pirates, or Bears,
And he 's lost for the day to all mundane affairs; -
By sunlight or gaslight his vision is clear.
Now, is n't that queer ?

At thought of an errand, he's tired as a hound,"
Very weary of life, and of "tramping around."
But if there 's a band or a circus in sight,
He will follow it gladly from morning till night.
The showmen will capture him, some day, I fear,
For he is so queer.

If there 's work in the garden, his head aches to split,"
And his back is so lame that he can't dig a bit."
But mention base-ball, and he's cured very soon;
And he '11 dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.
Do you think he plays 'possum"? He seems quite sincere;
But is n't he queer ?



IF you take your Bible and turn to Chap-
ter xvii. of I. Samuel, you may read just the
sort of story I am about to tell: Of two great
nations facing each other in battle array,- the
army of one cowed and despairing because in
the other there is a mighty creature who is so
gigantic and so strong that he can taunt and
harass and crush any of them without fear of
being hurt himself. He is big and powerful,
he wears impenetrable armor, and his weapons
are so heavy that none can withstand them.
Reading on, you will see how one day there
went out from the despondent army to meet this
terrible warrior, a youth-a mere boy-with-
out shield or breastplate, and carrying an un-
tried weapon. It was a forlorn hope, but the
youth was stout of heart and full of confidence.
What was the result ? The lad approached his
gigantic adversary, and unmoved by his taunts
and threats adjusted a missile coolly and with
care. The lad's aim was perfect; the giant was
struck; the giant fell dead!
Now I shall tell you how just such a thing is
done on the sea in a modern naval war. The
mighty giant is a battle-ship. Its iron sides
are thicker than stone walls. Its enormous
guns can throw a shot ten miles. Its small
guns can fire so fast as to cover the water with
bullets plenty as hail. In all its arrogant
majesty and might, it steams about in front of
a wealthy seaport. The guns of the defending
forts are firing continually, but out of hundreds
of shells not a dozen hit the mark, and even
these few seem to fall harmless from the invul-
nerable sides. With the unconcern of perfect
confidence in its strength and safety it ignores
the flaming fortresses. The great guns swing
slowly around until they bear upon the defense-
less city. Smoothly and easily they lift and
train, till presently with a roar like thunder a
sheet of flame belches forth and the mighty
ship is hidden for a time in great white mounds

of smoke as completely as if enveloped in a
The deadly missile has left the .gun. It goes
tearing and screaming through miles of air. It
rises, curves, falls with terrible swiftness, strikes!
Why is that cruel monster ship destroying
defenseless men and innocent women and chil-
dren ? Because its country is at war with their
country, and has demanded from them an enor-
mous ransom in money, which they have refused
to pay.
Had they not better pay it than be killed ?
you will ask. Yes; but in their harbor they have
a forlorn hope and they wish to try it. A little
steamboat lies hidden there. It is long and
narrow, but so small that the huge ship outside
could hoist it on board like a rowboat. Its
sides are of iron, but hardly thicker than those
of a pasteboard box. It has no guns, but in
the bow is a big round tube which looks threat-
ening-as if it carried some terrible weapon.
It is biding its time. The thin sides could
not stand the rain of shot which that braggart
enemy could throw upon it, so it must steal
up in secret-in a fog or in the darkness of
night-till near enough to deal an unexpected
The opportunity comes,-a night dark and
tempestuous. The clouds have covered the
stars like a pall, and there is a howling wind
which drowns all other sounds. The pygmy
vessel makes ready and puts to sea. It
rushes along as swift as the wind and as silent
as a calm. Big waves sometimes sweep over
it from end to end as it plunges through the
darkness, but they are not heeded. Small as
it is, it is stanchly built and can stand the
strain of storm as well as its adversary. All
men save one are snugly shut inside, tending
the flying engine and preparing the missile of
destruction. This is a strange bolt, shaped
like a cigar, over ten feet in length; and the


crew place it in the bow tube. The man on
deck stands behind a little iron tower which
shields him from the shock of the waves, and
there he steers the boat.
In the darkness they seek their adversary
determinedly, and with deadly purpose, since
they are the protectors of their native land.
The boat searches for a time in vain, for the big
ship has covered all lights and is lying like a
sleeping monster upon the waves, awaiting
morning to renew the havoc. Perhaps if the
ship remained thus, the little boat would never
find her; but Goliath" becomes uneasy; he
fears David will make an attack, so he has
determined to watch. A dazzling cone of white
light suddenly starts from a point in the dark-
ness and broadens upon the water. Slowly it
sweeps about over the sea in circling arcs. All
at once the little boat is bathed in a brilliant,
blinding glare. The monster's eye finds it!
But in finding the enemy the battle-ship has dis-
closed itself, and the dauntless little adversary
steams straight forward at utmost speed. Streaks
of flame are now shooting from under the
white light, while the rattling reports of rifles
and machine-guns rise sharply above the wind's
roar. Shot and small shell are falling about
like hail upon the water, but the monster
can not keep the range of the on-rushing boat,
and the missiles fly wide of the mark.
Suddenly the great ship looms up,- tall, long,
shadowy, overpowering. It is not far off,
almost near enough to be attacked. Yet a little
closer and the intrepid pygmy, still unharmed,
slows and steadies, with that ominous black
tube pointing toward the monster's blazing
side. Shots are falling upon the boat, and the
man who was steering has taken refuge in his
iron tower; but inside there is a wheel, and he
can steer as well as before, for around him on a
level with his eyes are little slits through which
he can see. Now seconds are precious, if the
fragile little craft is to escape destruction. The
moment has come! A lever is pulled, and from
that black tube comes a short hoarse roar. At
once the little boat begins to turn, ready to
escape with the speed of the wind.
But before the boat can turn, a dull heavy
shock has jarred the sea. A gigantic column of
white water rushes upward toward the black

clouds. In it the tall masts of the monster ship
seem to sway about and clash together. The
banging of guns is sharply succeeded by cries
of human terror.
The mass of water falls back into the sea
with a roaring crash and scatters over the
waves in great wisps of glistening foam. The
wind, sweeping on again, forms new waves
over the disturbed water. The monster ship
has disappeared the Goliath of the Deep is
conquered by his pygmy antagonist.
This little David of the Sea, which can thus
annihilate the greatest ironclad at a single blow,
is a torpedo boat. It costs less than $100oo,ooo
to build one, and at a stroke it might destroy
an enormous battle-ship costing one hundred
times as much. For this reason, although peace
has reigned so long that there has been little
opportunity to test the value of these boats or
their weapons, they are being constructed for
the navies of every nation. Four great builders
now compete for the best and fastest boats;
and others, as yet of less note, are building
them. Two of the former, Yarrow and Thorny-
croft, are in England; a third, Normand, is in
France; and the fourth, Schicau (pronounced
she cow), is in Germany. All but the last-named
build boats of three sizes. The smallest, called
second-class torpedo boats, are little larger than
an ordinary pleasure launch, and are intended
to be carried by the big ironclads themselves,
and to be hoisted out in battle to fight other
ironclads. They can serve, too, in times of
peace the ordinary purposes of carrying officers
and men between a large ship and the shore.
Their usefulness in war time has never been
tried. It would be an extremely awkward
matter to lower them in ever a slight sea,
and in a heavy gale they might be swamped;
but a big ship must have steam launches
to communicate with other ships or with the
shore, so these launches might as well be
torpedo boats.
The next size, or first-class torpedo boat, is
larger than a tug, at least in length, but very low
in the water. These are the boats which are to
protect harbors in the way I have just described
-these, and the deep-sea" torpedo boats.
The latter are as large as pleasure yachts, and
are built to make long sea voyages, even across


the stormy Atlantic. Many have been built in
England for South American countries. Of
course they can carry little coal and they must
therefore make the trip under sail, and it is a
very trying one. The big seas sweep over them
from end to end, and they have to keep bat-
tened down," i. e., all hatches, skylights, and air
ports must be tightly closed, for days at a time.
Now let me tell you some peculiar differ-
ences in the boats of these rival builders. They

*" i


are all built long, low, and narrow, with little
iron steering-towers and long, rounded decks
over their bows to throw off the water. These
decks are called turtle-backs," and the iron
towers are called conning-towers." Looking
closely at the pictures, however, you will see
some marked differences. Notice the German
boat of Schicau (the Nibbio), with its long,
sharp bow and straight stem, which cut the
water like a knife. He builds his boats thus,
that they may run through the water smoothly,
without piling up a great wave in front of them
which might show where they are by its phos-
phorescence, or might turn aside the torpedo

as it was launched from the tube. Then look at
the French boats of Normand (below), and
note how their sides are rounded in to meet the
deck till they have backs like whales. This is to
shed the heavy seas that sweep over them. A
few years ago one of these boats started out to
sea with two others of different models, on a trial
trip from a Russian port. They were to reach
a certain headland, and a man-of-war accom-
panied them as an umpire. There arose a ter-


rible storm ; and one after another the little
boats went back, till only the French boat was
left with the man-of-war following behind, un-
able to keep up. At last even the big ship had
to seek a convenient harbor. But the little
Normand torpedo boat kept straight on to the
finish, not even slowing the engines to make
the trip less trying.
Of course all builders strive for the greatest
speed, and each year has seen a boat built
which is faster than any before. The palm for
the highest speed seems at present to lie be-
tween an English boat built for France by
Thornycroft,--the Coureur; and a German






sl- .-

boat built for Italy by Schicau,- the Nibbio. The next most importa
Each of these boats can run nearly twenty- boat is quick turning; an
seven knots an hour.* A knot, you know, is larger Normand, Schicau
a sea mile, which is one and one-seventh land have two rudders, one ii
miles, so these boats can make about thirty miles the stern, and one under th
an hour, or about the average speed of a rail- croft has another device.
road passenger-train. Just think of a boat rudders near the stern

nt thing in a torpedo
d for this purpose the
I, and Yarrow boats
n the usual place at
e bow. Mr. Thorny-
He puts two curved
and the propeller is

-',. _.. .* .. ... .
rushing through the water as fast as a train between them, so that when the rudders are
of cars runs over the land! turned together, the water which the pro-
Since this article was written, a sister-boat to the Nibbio, the Adler, built for Russia, has broken the
record for speed, by making about 27.5 knots.

~---~-- -- -~


~~~~4LTLD~. --_ --'--1~lr~~9~i~?


peller is driving astern is turned a little to one
side and helps to push around the boat.
The latest idea in torpedo boats is to have
their launching tubes mounted on turn-tables
on deck instead of being fixed in the bow.
With this improvement a boat will not have
to steam straight at her enemy, stop, launch
its torpedo, and then turn to run away; but
it can train its tube on the big ship as if the
tube were a gun, and launch the torpedo while
rushing past at full speed. This would be less

only one worth mentioning is to have a big net
stretched around the ship, hanging down into
the water from the ends of long booms which
stand out from her sides. The net is weighted
to hang down to the level of the keel, and sur-
rounds the ship like a huge cage. A torpedo
caught in its meshes would be exploded too far
from the ship to do her any harm. When not
in use these nets are folded in close to the side
by swinging in the booms, and furled on the
booms themselves; but they are clumsy things



4 -
____ ~ ~ -I

dangerous for the torpedo boat, for it would not
afford the men on the ship a good aim at her.
The most approved weapon as yet used in
these boats is the Whitehead torpedo. It is
a long, cigar-shaped projectile which runs under
water by machinery after it is launched from
the tube. It goes in a straight line for about
five hundred yards, so that the torpedo boat
must get within that distance before launching
it. Its front end is filled with one hundred
pounds of gun-cotton (an explosive much
stronger than gunpowder), and this will ex-
plode when the torpedo strikes a ship's bottom
and would probably tear a hole big enough to
sink the largest man-of-war.
Many schemes have been suggested to keep
a torpedo from reaching a man-of-war; but the

at best. They can not be used when the ship
is under way, for they would retard her speed
and might become tangled in her propel-
lers. A ship blockading or bombarding a port
would never lie at anchor; for, in the one case,
she must be always ready to chase the ships
which try to run in or out, and in the other,
she must not give the big guns on shore an
opportunity to take deliberate aim at her. Yet
these are the occasions when she must expect
an attack from torpedo boats; so you see a net
could hardly be used at the very times when
most needed.
European countries have built large numbers
of these boats. Italy has now about 200; Eng-
land, 175; France, 150; Russia, 130; Germany,
ioo; and Spain, 20. On this side of the Atlantic


the Argentine Republic has 18; Brazil, 15; and
Chili, 1o.
Of course you wish to know how many our
own nation has. Well, we have ONE. It was
recently launched, and if you read the papers
you will no doubt see accounts of its trials
for speed. It is a big one,-a "deep-sea"
boat,-very much like the Italian Vibbio in
appearance, but not in any way designed after
that boat. It was built by the Messrs. Herr-
eshoff at Bristol, R. I. This firm has built
some very fast launches and yachts, and can
no doubt prove equal to the best foreign
builders in constructing torpedo boats should
others be demanded.
Our torpedo boat is named the Cushing,
after a famous naval officer who during the Re-
bellion sank a Confederate ironclad with a tor-
pedo rigged out on a spar projecting from a
steam launch. Torpedo boats are not always
named. It is the custom of foreign countries
to give names only to their" deep-sea torpedo
boats. The smaller ones are simply numbered.

I know you are wondering why we have only
one torpedo boat and would like to ask me if
we don't need more. Perhaps we do. The
United States has a longer sea-coast and more
important sea-ports to protect than any other
country; but the United States is deliberate and
We are not in danger of a fight at any
moment, so we can afford to look on while
other countries are testing new-fangled ideas,
and wait until we see them succeed before we
adopt them. Thus we have watched this tor-
pedo-boat invention until the experiments,
trials, and naval manceuvers have proved (as
far as anything but a war can prove) that these
little boats would probably be the cheapest and
most effective defense for our sea-ports. So we
are beginning to build them. The present
Secretary of the Navy has asked Congress to
appropriate money for five torpedo boats in
addition to the Cushing, and no doubt success-
ful trials of these will bring about the immediate
building of many more.


EACH step forward in the peaceful arts is at
once made useful in the art of war. Improve-
ments in metal working suggested that armor
might be made large enough to cover ships,
and by rendering guns more effective made
such protection necessary.
When the Kearsarge fought the Alabama,
cable-chains were hung along the sides of the
former to shield her boilers and machinery. The
fMe7rriac was protected by doubled iron plates,
and the _Monitor was covered completely in
plate mail.
Nelson's flagship, the Victory, was in active
service within the lifetime of men still living,

and the Kearsarge's victory is not beyond the
memory of young men; but in twenty-five
years the progress of invention has produced
the great contrast so strikingly and artistically
shown in the picture opposite, which puts side
by side the old Victory and a modern French
line-of-battle ship.
The contrast, however, is no greater than
that between the unarmored soldier of to-day
and the knight of old in full mail; and perhaps,
as armor for the soldier became useless and
was abandoned, the ironclad may likewise give
way to something more like the type familiar
a century ago.

Ac 'j




-, ,Fk

BATTLE-SHIPS.-1890 AND 1800.

~1~1111 __


. -_- ,



THE farm-house was cozy and sweet as
could be;
The green fields and orchards were pleas-
ant to see-
Then why, do you think, was the farmer -N
so glum?

His good wife looked out, saying, Why .-
does he stand
Like a stock or a stone, with the hoe in '
his hand, '
When it 's supper-time, quite, and the cows
have n't come ? How they
Though al
The farmer stood thinking, There 's nobody Not a cro'
knows scout
The life a poor farmer is led by the crows! Who crep
It 's much if they leave me a morsel to eat. the g
'T was the pease, and the beans, and the oats, And took
and the rye; man
They did n't spare cherries enough for a pie, With a gu
And now I '11 be blest if they 're not at the out!
"When he
"And I really believe that before I am older at on
They will come to that scarecrow, and light And if we
on his shoulder, That then
Or build them a nest in the crown of his hat! to pa
If I live till to-morrow, we '11 some of us see- But a mar
I '11 take the old gun, and hide up in this tree. It destroy.
I 've buckshot enough; we '11 try how they And when
like t/at! we st

liked it, however, he was not to see.
1 the next morning he hid in the tree,
w was on hand, save one wary old

t through the bushes, flew close to
word to the flock, The old gentle-
's 'round
n in his hand, and we 'd better clear

puts up a scarecrow we 're certain
were not we should each be a dunce,
e's lots of good eating, and nothing
with a gun 's so unpleasant a sight
s the most ravenous crow's appetite,
Swe 're not hungry, pray why should
ay ? "


.' ..' 11",'F IT i'



THERE were five of them, all told; three boys
and two men. I have mentioned the boys first
because there were more of them, and we shall
hear most from them before we have got through
with this truthful tale. They lived in the town
of Dixon, on the Rock River, in Lee County,
Illinois. Look on the map and you will find
this place at a point where the Illinois Central
Railroad crosses the Rock, for this is a real
town with real people. Nearly sixty years ago,
when there were Indians all over that region of
the country, and the red men were numerous
where the flourishing States of Illinois, Iowa,
and Wisconsin are now, John Dixon kept a
little ferry at the point of which I am now speak-
ing, and it was known as Dixon's Ferry. Even
when he was not an old man, Dixon was noted
for his long and flowing white hair, and the In-
dians called him Na-chu-sa, the White-haired."
In 1832 the Sac tribe of Indians, with their
chief Black Hawk, rose in rebellion against the
government, and then there happened what is
now called the Black Hawk war.
In that war many men who afterwards be-
came famous in the history of the United States
were engaged in behalf of the government.
One of these was Zachary Taylor, afterwards
better known as Rough and Ready," who

fought bravely in the Mexican war and subse-
quently became President of the United States.
Another was Robert Anderson who, at the
beginning of the war of the rebellion in 1861,
commanded the Union forces in Fort Sumter
when it was first fired upon. Another was Jef-
ferson Davis who, in the course of human
events, became President of the Southern Con-
federacy. A fourth man, destined to be more
famous than any of the others, was Abraham
Lincoln. The first three of these were officers
in the army of the United States. Lincoln
was at first a private soldier, but was afterwards
elected captain of his company, with whom he
had come to the rescue of the white settlers
from the lower part of the State.
The war did not last long, and there was not
much glory gained by anybody in it. Black
Hawk was beaten, and that country had peace
ever after. For many years, and even unto
this day I make no doubt, the early set-
tlers of the Rock River country loved to tell
stories of the Black Hawk war, of their own
sufferings, exploits, hardships, and adventures.
Father Dixon, as he was called, did not choose
to talk much about himself, for he was a modest
old gentleman and was not given, as they used to
say, to blowing his own horn," but his memory
was a treasure-house of delightful anecdotes and
reminiscences of those old times; and young
and old would sit around the comfortable stove
of a country store, during a dull winter evening,
drinking in tales of Indian warfare and of the
" old settlers that had been handed down from
generation to generation.
It is easy to see how boys brought up in an
atmosphere like this, rich in traditions of the
long past in which the early settlement of the


country figured, should become imbued with
the same spirit of adventure that had brought
their fathers from the older States to this new
region of the West. Boys played at Indian
warfare over the very ground on which they
had learned to believe the Sacs and Foxes had
skirmished years and years before. They loved
to hear of Black Hawk and his brother, the
Prophet, as he was called; and I can not tell
you with what reverence they regarded Father
Dixon, the white-haired old man who had
actually talked and traded with the famous
Indians, and whose name had been given him
as a title of respect by the great Black Hawk
Among the boys who drank in this sort of
lore were Charlie and Alexander Howell and
their cousin Oscar Bryant. Charlie, when he
had arrived at his eighteenth birthday, esteemed
himself a man, ready to put away childish
things; and yet, in his heart, he dearly loved
the traditions of the Indian occupation of the
country, and wished that he had been born
earlier, so that he might have had a share in
the settlement of the Rock River region, its
reclamation from the wilderness, and the chase
of the wild Indian. As for Alexander, com-
monly known as Sandy," he had worn out a
thick volume of Cooper's novels before he was
fifteen years old, at which interesting point in
his career I propose to introduce him to you.
Oscar was almost exactly as many years and
days old as his cousin. But two boys more
unlike in appearance could not be found any-
where in a long summer day. Sandy was
short, stubbed, and stocky in build. His face
was florid and freckled, and his hair and com-
plexion, like his name, were sandy. Oscar was
tall, slim, wiry, with a long oval face, black hair,
and so lithe in his motions that he was invari-
ably cast for the part of the leading Indian in
all games that required an aboriginal character.
Mr. Howell carried on a transportation busi-
ness, until the railroads came into the country
and his occupation was gone. Then he began
to consider seriously the notion of going further
west with his boys to get for them the same
chances of early forestalling the settlement of
the country that he had had in Illinois. In the
West, at least in those days, nearly everybody

was continually looking for a yet further West
to which they might emigrate. Charlie Howell
was now a big and willing, good-natured boy;
he ought to be striking out for himself and get-
ting ready to earn his own living. At least, so
his father thought.
Mr. Bryant was engaged in a profitable busi-
ness, and he had no idea of going out into an-
other West for himself or his boy. Oscar was
likely to be a scholar, a lawyer or a minister,
perhaps. Even at the age of fifteen, he had
written "a piece" which the editor of the
Dixon Telegraph had thought worthy of the im-
mortality of print in his columns.
But about this time, the Northern States were
deeply stirred by the struggle in the new Ter-
ritory of Kansas to decide whether freedom or
slavery should be established therein. This
was in 1854 and thereabout. The Territory
had been left open and unoccupied for a long
time. Now settlers were pouring into it from
adjacent States, and the question whether
freedom should be the rule, or whether slave-
holding was to be tolerated, became a very im-
portant one. Missouri and Arkansas, being the
States nearest to Kansas, and holding slavery
to be a necessity, furnished the largest num-
ber of emigrants who went to vote in favor of
bringing slavery into the new Territory; but
others of the same way of thinking came from
more distant States, even as far off as South
Carolina, all bent on voting for slavery in the
laws that were to be made. For the most part,
these people from the slave States did not go
prepared to make their homes in Kansas or
Nebraska, for some went to the adjoining Ter-
ritory of Nebraska which was also ready to
have slavery voted up or down. The new-
comers intended to stay just long enough to
vote and then return to their own homes.
The people of the free States of the North
heard of all this with much indignation. They
had always supposed that the new Territories
were to be free from slavery. They saw that
if slavery should be allowed there, by and by,
when the two Territories would become States,
they would be slave States, and then there
would be more slave States than free States
in the Union. So they held meetings, made
speeches, and passed resolutions denouncing


this sort of immigration as wrong and wicked.
Then immigrants from Iowa, Illinois,.and other
Northern States, even as far off as Massachu-
setts, sold their homes and household goods
and started for the Promised Land, as many of
them thought it to be. For the men in Kan-
sas who were opposed to slavery wrote and sent
far and wide papers and pamphlets, setting forth
in glowing colors the advantages of the new
and beautiful country beyond the Missouri
River, open to the industry and enterprise of
everybody. Soon the roads and highways of
Iowa were dotted with white-topped wagons
of immigrants journeying to Kansas, and long
lines of caravans, with families and with small
knots of men, stretched their way across the
country nearest to the Territory.
Some of these passed through Dixon, and the
boys gazed with wonder at the queer inscrip-
tions that were painted on the canvas covers of
the wagons; they longed to go with the immi-
grants and taste the sweets of a land which was
represented to be full of wild flowers, game in
great abundance, and fine streams, and well-
wooded hills not far away from the water.
They had heard their elders talk of the beauties
of Kansas and of the great outrage that was to
be committed on that fair land by carrying
slavery into it; and, although they did not know
much about the politics of the case, they had
a vague notion that they would like to have a
hand in the exciting business that was going
on in Kansas.
Both parties to this contest thought they
were right. Men who had been brought up in
the slave States believed that slavery was a good
thing- good for the country, good for the slave-
owner, and even good for the slave. They
could not understand how anybody should
think differently from them. But, on the other
hand, those who had never owned slaves and
who had been born and brought up in the free
States could not be brought to look upon slavery
as anything but a very wicked thing. For their
part, they were willing (at least, some of them
were) to fight rather than consent that the right
of one man to own another man should be rec-
ognized in the Territories of Kansas and Ne-
braska. Some of these started at once for the
debatable land; others helped their neighbors

to go, and many others stayed at home and
talked about it.
Mrs. Bryant, Oscar's mother, said: "Dear
me, I am tired and sick of hearing about
'bleeding Kansas.' I do wish, Husband, you
would find something else to talk about before
Oscar. You have got him so worked up that I
should n't be the least bit surprised if he were
to start off with some of those tired-looking im-
migrants that go traipsing through the town
day by day." Mrs. Bryant was growing anx-
ious, now that her husband was so much ex-
cited about the Kansas-Nebraska struggle, as
it was called, that he could think of nothing



ONE fine morning in May, Mr. Bryant was
standing at his front gate watching for his
brother-in-law, Mr. Howell, to come down the
He held a newspaper in his hand, and with
this, loosely rolled, he was impatiently tap-
ping on the gate as Mr. Howell drew near.
Evidently, something had happened to disturb
See here, Aleck," he exclaimed, as soon as
his brother-in-law was within the sound of his
voice, I can stand this sort of thing no longer.
I 'm bound to go to Kansas. I 've been think-
ing it over, and I have about made up my mind
to go. Brubaker will take my store and the
good-will of the concern. Oscar is wild to go,
and his mother is perfectly able to take care of
the house while I am getting ready for her to
come out. What d' ye say? Will you go
too ? "
Well," said Mr. Howell slowly, you nearly
take my breath away! What's happened to
stir you up so ?"
Just listen to this," cried the other. Just
listen "; and, unfolding his newspaper, he read,
with glowing cheeks and kindling eyes, an ac-
count of an attack made by some of the pro-
slavery men," as they were named, on a party
of free-State immigrants who had attempted to
cross the river near Kansas City. His voice
trembled with excitement, and when he had


finished reading, he asked his companion what
he thought of that.
Mr. Howell looked pensively down the street
now embowered with the foliage of early sum-
mer, noted the peaceful aspect of the village and
the tranquil picture which gardens, cottages, and
sauntering groups of school-children presented,
and then said slowly: "I never was much of a
hand at shooting, Charles, leastways, shooting
at folks; and I don't know that I could take
steady aim at a man even if I knew he was a
Border Ruffian out gunning for me. But I 'm
with you, Charles. Charlie and Sandy can do
a heap sight better in Kansas, after things get
settled, than they can here. This place is too
old; there 's too much competition, and the
boys will not have any show if they stay here,
But what does Amanda say ? "
Now, Amanda was Mr. Bryant's wife, Mr.
Aleck Howell's sister. When Aleck asked this
question, the two men looked at each other for
a moment queerly and without speaking.
"Well, she '11 hate to part with Oscar; he 's
the apple of her eye, as it were. But I guess
she will listen to reason. When I read this piece
in the paper to her, this morning at the break-
fast-table, she was as mad as a wet hen. As for
Oscar, he 's so fired up about it that he is down
in the wood-shed chopping wood to blow off
steam. Hear him ?" And Mr. Bryant laughed
quietly, notwithstanding his rising anger over the
news of the day.
At that moment Sandy came whooping around
the corner, intent on overtaking a big yellow dog,
his constant companion-Bose by name-who
bounded along far in advance of the boy. See
here, Sandy," said his uncle, "how would you
like to go to Kansas with your father, Oscar,
Charlie, and myself ? "
"To Kansas? Shooting buffaloes, deer, In-
dians, and all that? To Kansas? Oh, come
now, Uncle Charles, you don't mean it."
But I do mean it, my laddie," said the elder
man, affectionately patting the freckled cheek of
the lad. I do mean it, and if you can per-
suade your father to go along and take you and
Charlie with him, we '11 make up a party-just
we five -that will scare the Border Ruffians
'way into the middle of next year." Then, with
a more serious air, he added: This is a fight for

freedom, my boy, and every man and every boy
who believes in God and Liberty can find a
chance to help. I 'm sure we can." This he
said with a certain sparkle of his eye that may
have meant mischief to any Border Ruffian that
might have been there to see and hear.
As for Sandy, he turned two or three hand-
springs by way of relieving his feelings; then,
having once more assured himself that the two
men had serious thoughts of migrating to Kan-
sas, he rushed off to the wood-shed to carry the
wonderful news to Oscar. Dropping his ax,
the lad listened with widened eyes to the story
that Sandy had to tell.
Do you know, Sandy," he said, with an air
of great wisdom, "I thought there was some-
thing in the wind. Oh, I never saw father so
roused as he was when he read that story in the
Chicago Press and Tribune this morning. Why,
I thought he 'd just get up and howl when
he had read it out to mother. Jimmini! Do
you really suppose that he will go ? And take
us ? And Uncle Aleck ? Oh, would n't that be
too everlastingly bully for anything ? Oscar,
as you will see, was given to the use of slang,
especially when under great excitement. The
two boys rushed back to the gate, where the
brothers-in-law were still talking eagerly and in
"If your mother and Aunt Amanda will
'consent, I guess we will go," said Mr. Bryant,
with a smile on his face as he regarded the
flushed cheeks and eager eyes of Sandy and
Oscar. Sandy's father added: "And I '11 an-
swer for your mother, my son. She and I have
talked this thing over many a time, more on
your account and Charlie's than for the sake of
bleeding Kansas,' however. I 'm bound to say
that. Every man is in honor bound to do his
duty by the country and by the good cause;
but I have got to look after my boys first."
And the father lovingly laid his hand on Sandy's
sturdy shoulder. Do you think you could
fight, if the worst comes to the worst, Sandy,
boy ? "
Of course the lad protested confidently that
he could fight; certainly he could protect his
rights and his father's rights, even with a gun,
if that should be found necessary. But he ad-
mitted that, on the whole, he would rather



shoot buffaloes and antelope, both of which
species of large game he had already learned
were tolerably plentiful in Kansas.
"Just think of it, Oscar, we might have some
real Indian-fighting out there, like that Father
Dixon and the rest of the old settlers had in the
time of the Black Hawk war."
His father assured him, however, that there
was no longer any danger from the red man in
Kansas. The wild Indians were now far out
on the frontier, beyond the region to which
they would probably go in search of homestead
lands for settlement. Sandy looked relieved at
this explanation. He was not anxious for fight-
ing with anybody. Fun was more to his liking.
The two mothers, when they were informed
of the decision of the male members of the
family, made very little opposition to the emi-
gration scheme. In fact, Mrs. Howell had
really felt for some time past that her boys
would be better provided for in a new country.
She had been one of the "old settlers" of
Dixon, having been brought out from the in-
terior of New York when she and her brother
were small children. She had the same spirit
of adventure that he had, and, although she
remembered very well the privations and the
discomforts of those early days, it was more
with amusement than sorrow that she recalled
them to mind, now that they were among the
traditions of long-past years. The two young
Howells were never weary of hearing their
mother tell of the time when she killed a wild-
cat with her father's rifle, or of her walking
fifteen miles and back to buy herself a bonnet-
ribbon to wear to her first ball in the court-
house. Now her silent influence made it easier
for the Kansas Exodus (as they already called
their scheme) to be accepted all around.
The determination of the two families to mi-
grate made some stir in the town. It was yet
a small place, and everybody knew every other
body's business. The Bryants and Howells
were among the old families," and their mo-
mentous step created a little ripple of excite-
ment among their friends and acquaintances.
The boys enjoyed the talk and the gossip that
arose around them, and already considered
themselves heroes in a small way. With envi-
ous eyes and eager faces, their comrades sur-

rounded them, wherever they went, asking
questions about their outfit, their plans, and
their future movements. Every boy in Dixon
looked on the three prospective boy settlers
as the most fortunate of all their young play-
"I wish my father would catch the Kansas
fever,' said Hiram Fender, excitedly. Don't
you suppose your father could give it to him,
Charlie? Do you suppose your uncle would
take me along if Dad would let me go ? Oh,
would n't that be just gaudy, if I could go!
Then there would be four of us boys. Try it
on him."
But the two families resolutely attended to
their own business, asking help from nobody, and
not even so much as hinting to anybody that it
would be a good thing for others to go with them
to the Promised Land. The three boys were
speedily in the midst of preparations for their
migration. It was now well along into the mid-
dle of May. If they were to take up land
claims in Kansas and get in a crop, they had
no time to spare. The delightful excitement of
packing, of buying arms and ammunition, and
of winding up all the small concerns of their life
in Dixon made the days pass swiftly by. There
were all the details of tents for camping-out,
provisions for the march, and rough clothing and
walking gear for the new life beyond to be
looked after.
Some of the notions of the boys, in regard to
what was needed and what was to be expected
from the land beyond were rather crude. And
perhaps their fathers were not in all cases so
wise as they thought themselves. The boys,
however, cherished the idea that absolutely
everything they should require in Kansas must
be carried from Illinois. Why," said the prac-
tical Mr. Howell, "if we cannot buy plows,
cattle, and seed, cheaper in Missouri than we can
here, we can at least save the labor and cost of
transportation. We don't want to haul a year's
provisions either. We expect to raise something
to eat, don't we ? "
Charlie, to whom this remonstrance was ad-
dressed, replied, Well, of course we can raise
some garden truck, and I suppose we can buy
bacon and flour cheaper in Missouri than here."
"Then there 's the game," interrupted Oscar


and Sandy, both in one breath. Governor
Robinson's book says that the country is swarm-
ing with game," added Sandy, excitedly.
The boys had devoured a little book by Mr.
Robinson, the free-State Governor of Kansas,
in which the richness of the Promised Land
was glowingly set forth.
Much time we shall have to shoot buffaloes
and antelope when we are breaking up the sod
and planting corn," Mr. Howell answered with
a shade of sarcasm in his voice.
"And we may have to fire at bigger game
than either of those," added Mr. Bryant grimly.
Border Ruffians ? asked Sandy with a fee-
ble attempt at a grin. His mother shuddered
and hastily went out of the room. The Kansas
scheme seemed no longer pleasant to her, when
she read the dreadful stories of violence and
bloodshed with which some of the Western
newspapers were teeming. But it was settled
that most of the tools needed for farming could
be bought better in Missouri than in Illinois;
the long haul would be saved, and the horses
with which they were to start could be exchanged
for oxen to good advantage when they reached
the river." They had already adopted the
common phrase, "the river," for the Missouri
River, then generally used by people emigrating
But perhaps the Missourians will not sell
you anything when they know that you are
free-State men," suggested Mrs. Bryant timidly,
for this was a family council.
Oh, well," answered Mr. Howell sturdily,
"I '11 risk that. I never saw a man yet with
anything to sell who would n't sell it when
the money was shaken in his face. The news-
papers paint those border men pretty black, I
know; but if they stop to ask a man's politics
before they make a bargain with him, they must
be queer cattle. They are more than human
or less than human, not Americans at all, if
they do business in that way." In the end they
found that Mr. Howell was entirely right.
All was settled at last, and that, too, in some
haste, for the season was rapidly advancing
when planting must be attended to, if they were
to plant that year for the fall harvest. From
the West they heard reports of hosts of people
pouring into the new Territory, of land being in

great demand, and of the best claims near the
Missouri being taken by early emigrants. They
must be in a hurry if they were to get a fair
chance with the rest and a fair start on their farm,
- a farm yet existing only in their imagination.
Their wagon, well stored with clothing and
provisions, a few books, Oscar's violin, a medi-
cine chest, powder, shot, and rifle-balls, and an
assortment of odds and ends,- the wagon, so
long a magical repository of hopes and the
most delightful anticipations, was ready at last.
It stood at the side gate of Mr. Bryant's home,
with a "spike team" (two horses at the.pole,
and one horse for a leader) harnessed. It was
a serious, almost solemn, moment. Now that
the final parting had come, the wrench with
which the two families were to be broken up
seemed harder than any of the members had
expected. The two mothers, bravely keeping
up smiling faces, went about the final touches
of preparations for the lads' departure and the
long journey of their husbands.
Mr. Howell mounted the wagon with Sandy
by his side; Mr. Bryant took his seat with the
other two boys in an open buggy, which they
were to drive to "the river" and there trade
off for a part of their outfit. Fond and tearful
kisses had been exchanged and farewells spoken.
They drove off into the West. The two women
stood at the gate, gazing after them with tear-
dimmed eyes as long as they were in sight; and
when the little train disappeared into the first
swale of the prairie, they burst into tears and
went into the house which was now left unto
them desolate.
It was a quiet party that drove over the
prairie that bright and beautiful morning. The
two boys in the buggy spoke occasionally in
far-off-sounding voices about indifferent things
that attracted their attention as they drove
along. Mr. Howell held the reins, with a cer-
tain stern sense of duty on his dark and hand-
some face. Sandy sat silently by his side, the
big tears coursing down his freckled cheeks.

THE straggling, unkempt, and forlorn town
of Parkville, Missouri, was crowded with stran-


gers when the emigrants arrived there after a
long and toilsome drive through Iowa. They
had crossed the Mississippi from Illinois into
Iowa, at Fulton, on the eastern shore, and after
stopping to rest for a day or two in Clinton, a
pretty village on the opposite bank, had pushed
on, their faces ever set westward. Then, turn-
ing in a southwesterly direction, they traveled
across the lower part of the State, and almost
before they knew it they were on the sacred
soil of Missouri, the dangers of entering which
had been pictured to them all along the route.
They had been warned by the friendly settlers
in Iowa to avoid St. Joseph, one of the crossings
from Missouri into Kansas; it was a nest of
Border Ruffians, so they were told, and they
would surely have trouble. They must also
steer clear of Leavenworth; for that town was
the headquarters of a number of Missourians
whose names were already terrible all over the
Northern States, from Kansas to Massachusetts
But there is the military at Fort Leaven-
worth," replied Mr. Bryant. "Surely they will
protect the citizens of the United States who
are peaceful and well-behaved. We are only
peaceable immigrants."
"Pshaw!" answered an Iowa man. "All
the army officers in this part of the country
are pro-slavery men. They are in sympathy
with the pro-slavery men, anyhow, and if they
had been sent here to keep free-State men out
of the Territory, they could n't do any different
from what they are doing. It 's an infernal
shame, that 's what it is."
Bryant said nothing in reply, but as they
trudged along, for the roads were very bad, and
they could not often ride in their vehicles now,
his face grew dark and red by turns. Finally
he broke out:
See here, Aleck," he cried, I don't want
to sneak into the Territory. If these people
think they can scare law-abiding and peaceable
citizens of a free country from going upon the
land of these United States, we might just as
well fight first as last. For one, I will not be
driven out of a country that I have got just as
much right to as any of these hot-headed Mis-
souri fellows."
His brother-in-law looked troubled, but be-

fore he could speak the impetuous and fiery
Sandy said: "That's the talk, Uncle Charlie!
Let 's go in by the shortest way, and tackle
the Border Ruffians if they tackle us. Who 's
afraid ? And the lad bravely handled his pep-
per-box," as his old-fashioned five-barreled re-
volver was sportively called by the men of those
days; for the modern revolver with one barrel
for all the chambers of the weapon had not then
come into use. "Who 's afraid ? he repeated
fiercely, looking around. Everybody burst out
laughing, and the valorous Sandy looked rather
"I am afraid, for one," said his father. "I
want no fighting, no bloodshed. I want to get
into the Territory and get to work on our claim,
just as soon as possible; but if we can't get
there without a fight, why then, I '11 fight. But
I ain't seeking for no fight." When Aleck
Howell was excited, his grammar went to the
four winds. His view of the situation com-
mended itself to the approval of Oscar, who
said he had promised his mother that he would
avoid every appearance of hostile intention,
keep a civil tongue in his head, have his
weapons out of sight and his powder always
The emigrants decided to go into Kansas by
way of Parkville.
At Claybank, half-way between the Iowa line
and the Missouri River, they encountered a
drover with a herd of cattle. He was eager to
dicker with the Kansas emigrants, and offered
them what they considered to be a very good
bargain in exchanging oxen for their horses.
They were now near the Territory, and the ris-
ing prices of almost everything that immigrants
required warned them that they were not far
from the point where an outfit could no longer
be bought at any reasonable price. The boys
were loath to part with their buggy, for, although
they had been often compelled to go afoot
through some of the worst roads in the States
of Iowa and Missouri, they had clung to the
notion that they might have a pair of horses to
take into the Territory, and, while the buggy
was left to them, they had a refuge in times of
weariness with walking; and these were rather
frequent. The wagon was exchanged for an-
other, suitable for oxen.


The immigrants drove gaily into Parkville.
They were in sight of the Promised Land. The
Big Muddy, as Missourians affectionately call
the turbid stream that gives name to their State,
rolled sluggishly between the Parkville shore
and the low banks fringed with cottonwoods
that were the eastern boundary of Kansas.
Looking over, they could see long lines of white-
covered wagons, level plains dotted with tents,
and the rising smoke of many fires, where people
who had gone in ahead of them were cooking
their suppers; for they entered Parkville late in
the afternoon. It was a commonplace-looking
view of Kansas, after all, and not at all like
what the lads had fancied it would be. Sandy
very emphatically expressed his disappointment.
"What would you have, Sandy? asked his
uncle, with some amusement. Did you expect
to see wild honey dripping out of the cotton-
woods and sycamores, buffaloes and deer stand-
ing up and waiting to be shot at, and a farm
ready to be tilled?"
Well," replied the boy, a little shamefacedly,
I did n't exactly expect to see all those things;
but somehow the country looks awful flat and
dull. Don't you think so ? "
For answer, Mr. Bryant pointed out a line of
blue slopes in the distance. "Those are not very
high hills, my boy, to be sure, but they are of the
rolling prairie beyond, and as soon as we get
away from the river we shall find a bluffy and
diversified country, I '11 warrant you."
"Yes; don't you remember," broke in Oscar
eagerly, "Governor Robinson's book told all
about the rolling and undulating country of the
Territory, and the streams that run under high
bluffs in some places ?"
Sandy admitted that this was true of the book;
but he added, "Some books do lie, though."
"Not Governor Robinson's book," commented
his brother Charlie, with a slight show of resent-
ment. For Charlie had made a study of the
reports from the Promised Land.
But a more pressing matter was the attitude
of the border-State men toward the free-State
emigrants, and the question of making the nec-
essary purchases for their farming scheme.
Parkville was all alive with people, and there
were many border-State men among them.
Some of these regarded the newcomers with

unmistakable hostility, noting which, Sandy
and Oscar took good care to keep near their
two grown-up protectors; and the two men al-
ways went about with their weapons within easy
reaching distance. All of the borderers were
opposed to any more free-State men going into
the Territory; and many of them were disposed
to stop this by force, if necessary. At one time,
the situation looked very serious, and Sandy got
his "pepper-box "into position. But the trouble
passed away, and the arrival of fifteen or twenty
teams, accompanied by a full complement of
men, checked a rising storm of wrath.
From Platte City, a short distance up the river,
however, came doleful and distressing stories of
the ill-treatment of the free-State men who had
gone that way. They were harassed and hin-
dered, and, in some cases, their teams were de-
liberately turned about and driven back on the
road by which they had come. It was useless
to remonstrate when the rifles of a dozen men
were leveled at the would-be immigrants. But
our travelers in Parkville heard a good story of
the bravery of one free-State man who had
been refused transportation across the ferry at
Platte City, kept by an ardent pro-slavery man.
The intending immigrant, unconscious of any
hindrance to his crossing, was calmly driving
down to the ferry-boat, a flat-bottomed craft
propelled by long oars, or sweeps, when the
ferryman stopped him with the question, What
hev ye got into yer waggin ?"
"Oxen," sententiously replied the newcomer.
"And what's them thar cattle follering on
behind ? he asked, pointing to a drove of milch-
cattle in the rear.
"Caouws," answered the immigrant, in the
broad pronunciation peculiar to provincial peo-
ple of the New England States.
"All right," was the rejoinder; "a man that
says' caouws' can't go over this yere ferry with-
outen he 's got the tickets." No argument
would induce the ferryman to explain what the
tickets were and where they could be procured.
Finally, his patience exhausted, the free-State
man suddenly drew from the big pockets of his
frock a pair of tremendous pistols, ready cocked,
and, holding them full in the face of the surprised
ferryman, he said:
Here are my tickets, and I 'm going across

1890.] THE BOY

this ferry right off, caouws or no caouws And
he went.
Even at Parkville, where there was very little
difficulty in crossing, as compared with what
there had been earlier in the struggle for Kansas,
they were advised by discreet friends and sym-
pathizers to be on the lookout for opposition.
Every fresh arrival of free-State men angered
yet more the borderers who were gathered there
to hinder and, if possible, prevent further immi-
gration. Mr. Bryant chafed under the neces-
sity of keeping his voice hushed on the topic
that engaged all his thoughts; and Oscar and
Sandy were ready to fight their way across the
river; at least they said so.
They did find, however, that the buying of
provisions and farming tools required for their
future use, was out of the question in Parkville.
Whether it was the unexpected demand, or the
refusal of the Missourians to sell to free-State
men, they could not determine. But the prices
of everything they wanted were very high.
What should they do? These articles they
must have. But their cost here was far beyond
their most extravagant estimates. When Mr.
Howell was reminded by his brother-in-law how
he had said that no politics could interfere with
trade and prices, he was amused.
Of course," he said, "it does look as if these
Missourians would not sell at fair prices because
they want to hinder us; but don't you see that
the demand is greater than the supply ? I know
these folks are bitterly hostile to us; but the
reason why they have so small a stock of goods
on hand is that they have sold out to other free-
State men that have come before us to buy the
same things. Is n't that so ?
Mr. Bryant was obliged to admit that this was
a reasonable explanation; but as he had begun
by thinking that every borderer hated a free-
State man and would do him an injury if he
could, he did not give up that notion willingly.
He was certain that there was a plot in the high
prices of bacon, flour, corn-meal, and plows.
In this serious dilemma, Charlie came to the
relief of the party with the information that a
free-State man, whose team had just recrossed
the river for a load of supplies sent him by a
wagon that was to return to Iowa, brought news
that a large trading-post had been opened at a

new Kansas town called Quindaro. He said
that the Iowa man told him that prices were just
now lower in Quindaro than they had ever been
in Parkville.
Quindaro ?" said Oscar musingly; -" why
that must be an Indian name,- feminine Indian
name, too, unless I miss my guess."
Mr. Bryant had heard of Quindaro. It was
a brand-new town, a few miles down the river,
settled by free-State men and named for a
young, full-blooded Indian girl of the Delaware
tribe. The town was on the borders of the Dela-
ware reservation, which in those days came
close to the Missouri River. Charlie, also, had
gathered some facts about the town, and he
added that Quindaro was a good place to start
from, going westward. The party had laid in a
stock of groceries coffee, tea, and other arti-
cles of that description -before leaving home.
Now they needed staple provisions, a few farm-
ing tools, a breaking-plow, and some seed corn.
Few thought of planting anything but corn;
but the thrifty settlers from Illinois knew the
value of fresh vegetables, and they were re-
solved to have "garden truck" just as soon as
seeds could be planted and brought to maturity.
"And side-meat?" asked Sandy wonderingly,
as he heard his father inquiring the price of that
article of food. Side-meat,in the South and West,
is the thin flank of a porker, salted and smoked
after the fashion of hams, and in those parts of
the Southwest it was (and probably is) the staple
article of food among the people. It is sold in
long, unattractive-looking slabs, and when Sandy
heard its name mentioned, his disgust as well as
his wonder was kindled.
"Side-meat ?" he repeated, with a rising in-
flection. "Why, I thought we were going to
live on game,- birds and buffalo and the like!
Side-meat? Well, that makes me sick!"
The two men laughed, and Mr. Howell said,
" Why, Sandy, you are bent on hunting and not
on buckling down to farm work. How do
you suppose we are going to live if we have
nothing to eat but wild game that we kill, and
breadstuffs and vegetables that we buy? "
Sandy had thought that they might be able
to step out into the woods or prairie, between
times, as it were, and knock down a few head
of game when the day's work was done, or


had not begun. When he said as much, the
two heads of the party laughed again, and
even Charlie joined in the glee.
My dear infant," said his father seriously,
but with a twinkle in his eye, game is not so
plenty anywhere as that; and if it were, we
should soon tire of it. Now side-meat 'sticks
to the ribs,' as the people hereabouts will tell
you, and it is the best thing to fall back upon
when fresh meat fails. We can't get along with-
out it, and that is a fact; hey, Charlie ? "
The rest of the party saw the wisdom of this
suggestion, and Sandy was obliged to give up,
then and there, his glowing views of a land so
teeming with game that one had only to go out
with a rifle, or even a club, and knock it over.
But he mischievously insisted that if side-meat
did stick to the ribs," as the -Missourians de-
clared, they did not eat much of it, for, as a rule,
the people whom they met were a very lank
and slab-sided lot. Clay-eaters," their new
acquaintance from Quindaro said they were.
Clay-eaters ? asked Charlie, with a puzzled
look. They are clayey-looking in the face. But
it can't be possible that they actually eat clay ? "
Well, they do, and I have seen them chew-
ing it. There is a fine, soft clay found in these
parts, and more especially south of here; it has
a greasy feeling, as if it was a fatty substance, and
the natives eat it just as they would candy. Why,
I should think that it would form a sand-bar
inside of a man, after awhile; but they take to
it just as naturally!"
If I have got to choose between side-meat
and clay for a regular diet," said Sandy, "give
me side-meat every time."
That night, having made their plans to avoid
the prying eyes of the border- State men, who
in great numbers were now coming in, well-
armed and looking somewhat grimly at the
free-State men, the little party crossed the
river. Ten dollars, good United States money,
was demanded by the ferryman as the price of
their passage; it looked like robbery, but there
was no other way of getting over the river and
into the Promised Land; so it was paid, with
many a wrench of the patience of the indig-
nant immigrants; and they pitched their tent
that night under the stars and slept soundly on
the soil of "bleeding Kansas."

Bright and early next morning, the boys
were up and stirring, for now was to begin their
camp life. Hitherto, they had slept in their
tent, but had taken their meals at the farm-
houses and small taverns of the country through
which they had passed. They would find few
such conveniences in the new country into
which they had come, and they had been
warned that in Kansas the rule was "every
man for himself."
They made sad work with their first break-
fast in camp. Oscar had taken a few lessons
in cooking from his mother, before leaving
home, and the two men had had some experi-
ence in that line of duty when out on hunting
expeditions in Illinois, years before. So they
managed to make coffee, fry slices of side-meat,
and bake a hoe-cake of Indian-corn meal.
" Hog and hominy," said Sandy's father.
"That's the diet of the country, and that is
what we shall come to, and we might as well
take it first as last."
"There 's worse provender than this, where
there 's none," said Mr. Bryant cheerfully; "and
before we get through we shall be hungry more
than once for hog and hominy."
It was an enlivening sight that greeted the
eyes of the newcomers as they looked around
upon the flat prairie that stretched along the
river-side. The tents of the immigrants glistened
in the rising sun. The smoke of many camp-
fires arose on the summer air. Groups of men
were busily making preparations for their long
tramp westward, and, here and there, women
and children were gathered around the white-
topped wagons, taking their early breakfast or
getting ready for the day's march. Here, too,
could now be seen the unkempt and surly-look-
ing border men who were on the way to points
along the route that were to be occupied by them
before too many free-State men should come
in. An election of some sort, the newcomers
could not exactly make out what, was to take
place in a day or two, and the Missourians whom
they had seen flocking into Parkville were ready
to vote as soon as they got into the Territory.
Breakfast over, the boys sauntered around
through the camps, viewing the novel sights
with vast amusement. It was like a militia
muster at home, except that the only soldier


element they saw was the band of rough-looking
and rough-talking men who were bound to vote
and fight for slavery. They swaggered about
with big pistols girt at their hips and rifles over
their shoulders, full-bearded and swarthy, each
one a captain apparently, all without much or-
ganization, but very serious in their intention to
vote and to fight. It really seemed as if they
had reached the fighting-ground at last.

Oh, well; I can't bother about poetry, now,"
said the father hastily. I have some prose
work on hand, just about this time. I 'm trying
to drive these pesky cattle, and I don't make
a very good fist at it. Your Uncle Aleck has
gone on ahead, and left me to manage the
team; but it 's new business to me."
"John G. Whittier is the name at the top
of these verses. I 've heard of him. He 's


"See here, Daddy," said Oscar, as he came
in from the camps when the Dixon caravan was
ready to move; see what I found in this news-
paper. It is a piece of poetry, and a mighty
fine piece, too"; and the boy began to read
some lines beginning thus:

We cross the prairie as of old
The pilgrims crossed the sea,
To make the West, as they the East,
The homestead of the free! "

a regular-built poet,-lives somewhere down
I can't help that, sonny; get on the other
side of those steers, and see if you can't gee
them around. Dear, dear, they 're dreadful
obstinate creatures! "
That night, however, when they were com-
fortably and safely camped in Quindaro, amid
the live-oaks and the tall sycamores that em-
bowered the pretty little town, Oscar again


brought the newspaper to his father, and, with
kindling eyes, said:
Read it out, Daddy; read the piece. Why,
it was written just for us, I do declare. It is
called' The Kansas Emigrants.' We are Kansas
Emigrants, are n't we ?"
The father smiled kindly as he looked at the
flushed face and bright eyes of his boy, and
took from him the paper folded to show the
verses. As he read, his eyes, too, flashed and
his lip trembled.
Listen to this he cried. Listen to this !
It is like a trumpet call!" And with a voice
quivering with emotion, he began the poem:

"We cross the prairie as of old
The pilgrims crossed the sea,
To make the West, as they the East,
The homestead of the free "

Something has got into my eyes," said Mr.
Howell, as the last stanza was read. Great
Scott! though, how that does stir a man's
blood! And he furtively wiped the moisture
from his eyes. It was time to put out the light
and go to sleep, for the night was now well

advanced. But Mr. Bryant, thoroughly aroused,
read and re-read the lines aloud.
"Sing 'em," said his brother-in-law, jokingly.
Bryant was a good singer, and he at once tuned
up with a fine baritone voice, recalling a familiar
tune that fitted the measure of the poem.
Oh, come now, Uncle Charlie," cried Sandy,
from his blankets in the corner of the tent,
" that's Old Dundee.' Can't you give us some-
thing lively ? Something not quite so solemn ? "
"Not so solemn, my laddie? Don't you
know that this is a solemn age we are in, and a
very solemn business we are on ? You '11 think
so before we get out of this Territory, or I am
greatly mistaken."
"Sandy '11 think it's solemn, when he has to
trot over a piece of newly broken prairie, carry-
ing a pouchful of seed corn, dropping five
grains in each sod," said his father laughing,
as he blew out the candle.
"It's a good song; a bully good song,"
murmured the boy, turning over to sleep. But
it ought to be sung to something with more of a
rig-a-jig-jig to it." So saying, he was off to the
land of dreams.

(To be continued.)

i- C



f4 ',,

Y.- -'" ~.1i :.

" Fo '\-:,- ^
< '" ,' -"
t .. ; .

* .e- '-;.

IA ,'





IT was not long after the time when Paichoux
bought the watch, that Mam'selle Diane was
surprised one morning by a visit from Madame
Jozain, who entered the little green gate with
an air of haughty severity and insolent patron-

7-I .....-..

-- 2 -- -_ _- "
age that was insufferable. She had evidently
come on business; for after the first formalities
had passed between them, she drew a well-filled
purse from her pocket, and asked, in a lofty tone,
if Mam'selle Diane had her bill prepared.

"My bill, Madame Jozain! What bill? said
Mam'selle Diane, looking at her with cold sur-
prise. I am not aware that you owe me any-
"I owe you for teaching Lady Jane music.
You've been giving her lessons now for some
months, and I 'm sure you must need your
"Oh, Madame," gasped Mam'selle Diane,
"you are laboring under a mistake; I never
thought of receiving
money for the pleasure I
have had with the child.
I I offered to teach her; it
was my own wish. You
surely did not think that
I expected to be paid ?"
I' "I certainly did. Why
should you teach her
for nothing when I am
able to pay? returned
S- Madame, haughtily,
il I-';' while she drew out a roll
of notes. "In your cir-
i / cumstances, you can't
afford to throw away
your time, and I 'm
quite willing to pay you
the usual price. You're
a very good teacher, and
I 'm very well satisfied
with the child's pro-
For a moment, Mam'-
selle Diane was quite
-:-- ---- overcome by the wom-
r You THOUGHT I EXPECTED anl's insolence; then
.'" remembering that she
was a d'Hautreve, she drew herself up, and said
calmly and without the least hauteur:
"I regret, Madame, that you thought I ex-
pected any pay for teaching Lady Jane; I make
no claim to any professional knowledge, there-

Ij I


fore I could not take the pay of a teacher. I
thank you very much, but I am not a teacher."
It does n't matter; I insist on paying you,"
and Madame held out a bank-note for so large
an amount, that Mam'selle Diane's eyes were
fairly dazzled.
I assure you it is impossible," said Diane,
gently. It is useless to discuss the matter.
Will you permit me to open the gate for you?"
Very well, then," exclaimed Madame, hotly;
" I sha'n't allow my niece to come here again.
I won't accept favors from any one. If she is
to be taught, she shall have a teacher who is n't
too proud to take her wages."
I hope you will not deprive us of the pleas-
ure of seeing Lady Jane. We are very fond
of her," said Mam'selle Diane, almost humbly,
while the tears gathered on her eyelashes; of
course, however, you must do as you think best
about the lessons."
I sha'n't allow her to run about the neigh-
borhood any more," replied Madame, tartly;
she 's losing her pretty manners. I shall keep
her with me in the future," and with this small
parting thrust and a curt good-morning she
went out of the little green gate, and left Mam'-
selle Diane to close it behind her. Poor Mam'-
selle t her heart was heavy.
The interview had taken place on the gallery,
and Madame d'Hautreve had heard but little
from her bed. Diane, what did that woman
want ? What sent her here at this hour ? qua-
vered the old lady, sharply.
She came on business, Mamma," replied
Mam'selle Diane, brushing away a tear.
Business business ? I hope you have no
business with her! said her mother.
She pretended to think I expected to be
paid for the lessons I have given Lady Jane."
Madame groaned. "I told you we would
regret opening our doors to that child."
Oh, Mamma, I don't regret it. I regret only
that I have lost the pleasure of seeing her.
Madame Jozain will not allow her to come any
more," said Mam'selle.
Ungrateful creature, to insult you after your
condescension! "
Mamma, she did n't insult me," interrupted
Mam'selle Diane, proudly. Must I remind you
that I am above her insolence ? "

True, my dear, true; and I hope you made
her feel that she is but a Jozain."
I did n't wish to be unkind to her, Mamma;
perhaps she is not so wrong after all. Some-
times I think it would have been better to have
let our friends know our real circumstances.
Then they would have helped me to get pupils.
I could have earned more by teaching music
than I can by making penwipers, and I am sure
it would be more respectable and more agree-
Oh, Diane, you surprise me!" cried Ma-
dame d'Hautreve, tremulously. "Think of it,
a granddaughter of the Counts d'Hautreve and
d'Orgenois teaching the children of grocers and
bakers to play the piano! No, no; I would
rather bury myself here and die in poverty than
disgrace the name in that way !"
Mam'selle Diane made no reply, and after a
few moments Madame turned on her pillow to
finish her morning nap. Then the last of the
d'Hautreves went into the little garden, and
drawing on a pair of old gloves, she dug, and
trimmed and trained her plants for some time,
and afterward gathered up the small piles of
seeds from the white papers.
Ah!" she said, wearily, seeing how few
these were, even the flowers refuse to seed this
year! "
After she had finished her work in the garden,
she went dejectedly back to the little room
where her mother still slept, and opening a
drawer in her armoire, she took out a small box.
She sighed heavily as she raised the lid. Inside
on a blue velvet lining lay a slender bracelet
set with diamonds and turquoises. "It must
go," she said sadly to herself. I have kept it
till the last. I hoped I would n't be obliged to
part with it, but I must. I cannot let poor
Mamma know how needy we are. It 's the
only thing I can spare without telling her. Yes,
I must give it up. I must ask Madame Jourdain
to dispose of it for me." Then she sat for a
long time looking at it silently, while the hot
tears fell on the blue velvet.
Then Mam'selle Diane bravely wiped away
her tears, and laid the little box under the duck-
lings in the black basket.
For more than a week Mam'selle Diane did
not see Lady Jane, and the poor woman's eyes

* [Nov.



had a suspicious look of tears as she went about
her duties, silent and dejected. Her only pleas-
ure was no longer a pleasure; she could not go
near the piano for some days.
At last, one evening, she sat down and began
to play and sing a little song she had taught
the child, when suddenly she heard outside the
window the sweet treble voice she loved so
It 's Lady Jane!" she cried, and springing
up so hastily that she upset the piano-stool, she
grappled with the rusty bolts of the shutters, and
for the first time in years threw them boldly
open. There stood the child, hugging her bird
to her breast, her wan little face lighted by
her sparkling eyes and bright, winsome smile.
Mam'selle Diane went down on her knees,
and Lady Jane clung to her neck and kissed her
rapturously, over and over.
"Diane, Diane, what are you thinking of, to
open that shutter in the face of all the world ?"
cried the old lady, feebly.
But Mam'selle Diane did not hear her
mother; she was in an ecstasy of happiness,
with the child's loving lips pressed to her faded
"Tante Pauline says I must n't come in,"
whispered Lady Jane, between her kisses, and
I must mind what she says."
"Yes, darling," said Diane.
"I 've been here every day listening, but I
have n't heard you sing before."
Dear child, I could n't sing. I missed you
so I could n't sing," Mam'selle answered.
"Don't cry, Mam'selle Diane. I love you
dearly. Don't cry and I '11 come every day to
the window. Tante Pauline won't be angry at
I don't know, my dear; I 'm afraid she
will," said Diane, with a sad smile.
Diane, close that window instantly!" cried
Madame d'Hautreve, quite beside herself. "A
pretty exhibition you 're making, before all the
neighbors on your knees crying over that
Good-bye, darling; come sometimes. Mam-
ma don't like me to open the window, but I '11
open the gate and speak to you," said Diane,
hastily remembering herself and the exigencies
of her station.

"Forgive me, Mamma- I really could n't
help it. I was so glad to see the child"; and
Mam'selle Diane closed the window with a
brighter face than she had shown for many days.
"I think you must be insane, Diane! I think
you surely must be, to let all these common peo-
ple know that a blanchisseuse de fin will not al-
low her child to come into our house, and that
you are obliged to go on your knees and reach
out of the window to embrace her. Oh, Diane,
Diane, for the first time you 've forgotten that
you 're a d'Hautreve! "



ABOUT this time a noticeable change took
place in Madame Jozain. She did not seem
nearly so self-satisfied, nor so agreeable to her
customers. They remarked among themselves
that something had certainly gone wrong, for
Madame was very absent-minded and rather
cross, and was always talking about business
being- poor and about the quarter growing
duller every day, while the neighbors were a
set of curious gossips and busybodies.
"As soon as they find out that one has had
trouble, they blacken one all they can," she
said, bitterly, to Madame Fernandez, who was
her only intimate friend.
She spoke cautiously and vaguely of her
troubles, for she did not know whether the
news of Raste's escapade had reached Good
Children Street. "I dare say that they have
seen it in the papers," she thought angrily to
herself. "Locked up for thirty days as a sus-
picious character! If he had listened to me,
and sold that watch at first, he would n't have
got into this trouble. I told him to be careful,
but he was always so headstrong, and now I
don't know what may happen any moment.
The whole story may get out through that
watch being talked about in the papers; and
perhaps the man that bought it was a detec-
tive. Raste did n't even find out who the buyer
was. I shall never feel easy now until Raste is
out of the way; as soon as his thirty days are
ended, I shall advise him to leave New Or-
leans for a while. I 'm disgusted with him, for


disgracing me in this way, and I don't want him
here. I can hardly make enough to support
myself and that child. If it was n't for the
money I 've hidden away I should feel dis-
couraged, but I '11 have that to fall back on.
I 'm thankful Raste don't know anything about
it, or he 'd beg it from me in some way. I 'm
glad I 've got rid of all those things; I 'd be
afraid to have them by me now. There 's
nothing of any consequence left but that silver
jewel-box, and I '11 get that off my hands the
first time I go out."
Then she thought of the child. Suppose
some one should recognize the child? She
was becoming cowardly. A guilty conscience
was an uncomfortable companion. Everything
frightened her and made her suspicious.
Madame Paichoux had asked some startling
questions; and, besides, she did not know what
the child might tell. Children were so unre-
liable. One would think they had forgotten
everything and did not see nor hear; then,
suddenly, they would drop some word that
would lead to wonderful revelations. Lady
Jane was becoming an intelligent, thoughtful
child, and such people as the d'Hautreves could
find out many things from her. Then she con-
gratulated herself that she had been clever
enough to get her away from Mam'selle Diane,
and the Paichoux, too. And that cunning little
hunchback, Pepsie; and old Gex-he was a
sly old villain, and no doubt her enemy, for all
he was so affable and polite. Yes; she would
keep the child away from them all as much as
Sometimes she thought it would be best to
move away from that quarter of the city; but
then, her going might excite suspicion, so she
waited with much anxiety for further develop-
When Raste's thirty days were up, he came
to his mother, very sheepish and, apparently,
very penitent. To her angry reproaches, he re-
plied that he had done nothing; that there was
no crime in his having the watch. They did n't
steal the watch; they did n't ask the poor
woman into their house and rob her. She
came there sick, and they took care of her; and
instead of turning her child into the street, they
had treated her as if she belonged to them.

As for the watch, he had been keeping it only
until the child was old enough to have it, or
until her relatives were found; he had never in-
tended to sell it, until he found that it was get-
ting him into trouble, and then he was obliged
to get rid of it as best he could.
Madame listened to the plausible arguments
of her handsome scapegrace, and thought that
perhaps there was no real cause for anxiety
after all; and when he treated his thirty days
with fine scorn, as a mere trifle, a mistake of
which no one knew, she felt greatly comforted.
Respectable people," he said, never read
about such matters, and consequently none of
our friends will ever know of it. It won't hap-
pen again, for I mean to cut loose from the fel-
lows who led me into that fix. I mean to go
with respectable people. I shall begin all over,
and earn a living in an honest way "
Madame was delighted; she never knew
Raste to talk so reasonably and to be so thought-
ful. After all, his punishment had not done
him any harm. He had had time to think, and
these good resolves were the result of his seclu-
sion from the friends who had nearly proved his
ruin. Therefore, greatly relieved of her anxie-
ties, she took the prodigal back into her heart
and home, and cooked him an excellent supper,
not of a fatted calf, but of a fatted pig that
Madame Paichoux had sent her as a prelimi-
nary offering toward closer acquaintance.
For several days Raste remained quietly at
work around the house, assisting his mother in
various ways, and showing such a helpful and
kindly disposition that Madame was more than
ever enchanted with him. She even went so
far as to propose that they should form a part-
nership and extend their business.
My credit is good," said Madame, proudly;
"I can buy a larger stock, and we might hire
the store on the corner, and add a grocery de-
partment, by and by."
But the capital ? We have n't the capital,"
returned Raste, doubtfully.
Oh, I '11 provide the capital, or the credit,
which is just as good," replied Madame, with
the air of a millionaire.
"Well," said Raste, "you go out among the
merchants and see what you can do, and I '11
stay here and wait on the customers. There 's


nothing like getting used to it, you know. I
send that young one over to the countess,'
to some of her well friends. I don't want
be bothered with her everlasting question
Did you ever see such a little monkey, sitti
up holding that long-legged bird, and aski
a fellow a lot of hard questions as serious
old Ducro himself? By the way, I saw Fatl
Ducro; he 's just back from Cuba. He asl
me when you were coming to church agai:
With Father Ducro's name ringing in her es
Madame went out to see about the new vi
ture, and was absent for several hours. Wl
she returned she found the house closed a
Raste gone.
In a moment Lady Jane came running w
the key. Mr. Raste had brought it to her, E
said, and had told her that he was tired tendi
shop, and was going for a walk.
Madame smiled and said, as she took th.1l !;
"I thought so. I thought he 'd get ilc. I
it; but I can't expect him to keep clo-l,-i
business, just at first."
She took off her bonnet and veil, aindi
them away. Then she went limping ab.r:.t I
room, putting it in order. From time i., t;
she smiled. She had met Madame P:-il,:,,
and Marie in the Bon March6, on
Rue Royal, and they had been very
agreeable. Madame Paichoux had
even invited her to come and dine
with them to meet Marie's fiance.
At last they were beginning to see
that she was worthy of some atten-
tion, she thought.
Now, if Raste would only behave
himself they could do very well. '
With the ready money she had hid-
den away, and by using her credit,
she could buy a large stock of goods.
She would have more shelves put up, .
and a counter, and a fine showcase
in the window; and there was the
store on the corner whichRaste could
fit up as a grocery. Suddenly, she
remembered that her rent was due,
and that it was about time for her

landlord's visit.
and counted its
extravagant at

Madame Paichoux, and had spent far more
than she intended. She found that she lacked
a few dollars of the amount due for rent.
"I must borrow it from the private bank,"
she said, jocosely, as she unlocked her bureau.
With the peculiar slyness of such people, she
thought her hoard safer when not too securely
concealed. Therefore she had folded up the
whole of her year's savings, with the amount
taken from Lady Jane's mother, inside of a pair
of partly worn gloves, which were thrown care-
lessly among the other contents of the drawer.
It was true, she always kept her bureau locked,
and the key well hidden, and, besides, she sel-
dom left her house alone. But even if any
one should break it open, she thought, they
would never
drcli of unl- '' i

'l -ii .n I~ i lil'l I

... I L II

icr; I i ____
or .:l~ i | .i l llllll'Ii'l!1l Il II I'


She took out her pocket-book "Surely, I did n't leave my things in such
contents. She had been rather confusion! she said, nervously clutching at the
the Bon March6, to impress gloves, which were startlingly conspicuous.



With beating heart and trembling hands, she
unrolled them, but instead of the roll of notes,
only a slip of paper was found.
The gloves dropped from her nervous hands,
and staggering to the bed, she sat down on the
edge, and read the large characters, which were

danced and wavered before her eyes:
'', /ake te -l n

,-., ,-.- ... _

dutiful son money that's as much his as yours, don't hide

itinyouroldgloves. Itisn'tsafe. I'mgoingawayon -

uncle's ranc in Texas? Your affectionate and devoted'

only too familiar and distinct, although they
danced and wavered before her eyes:

DEAR MAMMA: I 've decided not to go into partner-
ship with you, so I '11 take the capital and you can keep
the credit. The next time that you secrete from your
dutiful son money that's as much his as yours, don't hide
it in your old gloves. It isn't safe. I'm going away on
a little trip. I need a change after my close application
to business. Your inquisitive neighbors won't mind my
taking a vacation. What could be pleasanter than my
uncle's ranch in Texas? Your affectionate and devoted



THE next day after Raste's sudden departure,
Madame Jozain sat in her doorway looking very
old and worn; her face was of a settled pallor,

. M,_



and her eyes had a dazed, bewildered expression,
as if she had received a heavy blow that had
left her numb and stupid. At times, she put
her hand to her head and muttered, "Who
would have thought it? Who would have
thought it? His mother, his own mother! -
and I 've always been so good to him!"
Suddenly, she seemed to have lost her inter-
est in her business, her customers, and even her
domestic affairs. Her little store was more un-
tidy than any one had ever seen it. When a

\ I'


neighbor entered to buy a trifle or to gossip for
a few moments, Madame made an effort to ap-
pear cheerful and chatty, but that it was an ef-
fort was evident to all. At last some one asked
if she were ill.
Well, not exactly," she answered, uneasily,
"but I might as well be. The fact is, I 'm fret-
ting about that boy of mine; he took it into his
head yesterday to go away to his uncle's ranch.
I miss him very much. I can't get along without
him, and I should n't wonder if I should go too."
When Pepsie asked what was the matter with
her Tante Pauline, Lady Jane answered, as she
had been instructed, that Tante Pauline had
headaches because Mr. Raste had gone away,
and was n't coming home for a long time.
Madame Jozain is fretting about her son's
going away," observed Madame Fernandez to
her husband, looking across the street. She 's
been sitting there all the morning so lonesome
and miserable, that I 'm sorry for her. But
there 's some one coming to see her now,- a
stranger, and so well dressed. I wonder who
it can be ? "
The newcomer was a stranger to Madame
Fernandez, but Madame Jozain welcomed her
as an old friend; she sprang up with sudden
animation and shook hands warmly.
"Why, Madame Hortense," she exclaimed,
"what chance brings you to my little place ?"
"A happy chance for you," replied Madame
Hortense, laughing. "I 've come to bring you
money. I 've sold the little jewel-case you left
with me the other day, and sold it very well, too."
"Now, did you? How good of you, my
dear; I 'm so glad-for the child's sake!"
"Would you believe that I got twenty-five
dollars for it ? You know you said I might sell
it for ten; but I got twenty-five, and I think I
could have sold it for more, easily. It is solid
silver and an exquisite thing."
"Yes, it was of the best workmanship,"
sighed Madame.
But I must tell you how I happened to sell
it for such a high price. It 's very strange, and
perhaps you can throw some light on the matter.
One of my best customers happened to come in
last evening,- Mrs. Lanier of Jackson Street.
You know Lanier the banker? They are very
rich people. She was looking over the things

in my showcase, when she suddenly, as if sur-
prised, exclaimed:
'' Why, Madame Hortense, where did you get
this ? I turned around, and she had the little
jewel-case in her hand examining it closely, and
I saw that she was quite pale and excited.
"Of course, I told her all I knew about it: that
a friend had given it to me to sell, and so on.
But she interrupted me by asking, where my
friend got it, and all sorts of questions; and all
the while she was looking at it as if she could n't
imagine how it got there. I could only tell her
that you gave it to me. Then she asked other
questions so excitedly that I could n't help
showing my surprise. But I could n't give her
all the information she wanted, so I wrote
your name and address for her, and told her to
come and see you, and that you would be able
to tell her all about it."
During Madame Hortense's hasty and rather
confused narrative, Madame Jozain turned an
ashy white, and her eyes took on a hunted ex-
pression, but with a set ghastly smile she followed
every word of her friend's story.
At length she found strength and composure
to say:
"Why, no wonder you were surprised! Didn't
she tell you why she wanted to know ? "
"I suppose she saw that I was very much
puzzled, for after looking at it sadly for some
time, she said that it was a mystery how the
box came there; that she had given that little
casket to a schoolmate ten years before, while
at school in New York; that she had had it
made especially for her; and that her friend's
initials, J. C., were on it."
"Dear, dear, only think! An old schoolmate,
I suppose," said Madame Jozain, hastily.
"Then she asked me if I would sell her the
little box; and I said, certainly I would; that it
was put there to sell. Seeing how anxious she
was to get it, I thought I would put the price
at twenty-five dollars, although I did n't really
think she 'd give it. But she never said a word
about the price; she paid it in a dazed way,
took your address that I 'd written down for her,
and went out, carrying the little casket with her.
I suppose she '11 be here to-day, or to-morrow,
to see you; and so I thought I 'd hurry down
and tell you all about it."



"And your commission ?" said Madame Jo-
zain with a visible effort to appear calm, as the
milliner laid the money on the table.
"Oh, par exemple, Madame Jozain! As if I
would! No, no, we 're too old friends. I can-
not take pay for doing you a little favor. And
besides, I 'm glad to do it for the dear child.
She must be a great anxiety to you?"
"She is!" returned Madame, with a heavy
sigh. But she has some property in land, I
believe. My son has just gone away, and I 'm
thinking of going too. I 'm very lonely here."
"Ah?" said Madame Hortense, surprised.
"Why, you 're so well placed here. Shall you
go soon?"
Before very long," replied Madame, who
did not care to be more definite.
"Well, come and see me before you go."
Madame Hortense drew down her veil and
rose to leave.
I 'm sorry I can't stay longer to chat with
you; I 'm busy, very busy. Now, mind, be
sure to come and say good-bye," and with a
cordial au revoir, the little milliner hurried down
the steps, and out of sight around the corner.
'For some time after her visitor had gone,
Madame Jozain stood quite still in the middle
of her little shop, with her hands pressed to her
head, and her eyes fixed on vacancy. At length
she muttered to herself:
"She '11 come here; yes, she '11 come here !
I can't see her. I can't tell her where I got
that box! I must get away at once. I must go
out and find another place. There '11 be no
more peace on earth for me! My punishment
has begun."
Then Madame hurriedly put on her best
gown and bonnet, and calling across to Lady
Jane, who was with Pepsie, she said she was
going out on business, and that she might not
be back for some time.

Late that same afternoon, Madame Jozain
was limping slowly and wearily through a nar-
row street at the other end of the city, miles
away from Good Children Street, when she saw
an old negro sitting on a furniture wagon to
which two mules were harnessed.
"Is that you, Pete ? she asked, stopping
and looking at him.

Why, law, yes, it 's me, Miss Pauline; an'
I is mighty glad ter see yer," said the old man,
climbing down.
"And I 'm glad to find you, Pete. I see
you 've got a wagon. Is it yours ? "
"Well, 't ain't edzactly mine, Miss Pauline.
I is hired it. But I is a-drivin' it."
I was just looking for some one to move me
to-night, Pete," Madame went on.
Ter-night, Miss Pauline ? Why, we does n't
often work a'ter sundown, an' it 's mos' dat now."
"What do you charge for a load, Pete, when
you move furniture ? "
"I mos' gen'ly charges two dollars a load,
when it ain't too fur, Miss Pauline," he answered
Well it is far, Pete. It is from Good Chil-
dren Street."
Oh, Miss Pauline, I can't do dat ter-night.
My mules is too tired fur dat."
Madame stood still and thought for a moment.
See here, Pete," she said at length in a tone
of decision, I want you to remember that you
belonged to our family once, and I want you
to listen to me and to do what I say. You 're
to ask no questions and answer none. Mind
that! You 're to keep your tongue still. Take
your mules out now, and give them a good
feed, and let them rest awhile. Then be at my
house by ten this evening. That will be soon
enough, for I 've got to pack. If you '11 move
me quietly, and without any fuss, I '11 give you
ten dollars for the load."
"Ten dollars, Miss Pauline?" and the old
darky grinned. Bress yer, Miss, I is a mind ter
try it, but it 's a mighty long road! "
"You 've got plenty of time; you need n't
hurry. Bring a man to help, and leave the
wagon in the side street. I want the things
taken out the back way, and no noise. Mind
what I say, no noise!"
"All right, Miss Pauline, I '11 be dar, shore.
An' yer '11 gib me ten dollars?"
"Yes, ten dollars," replied Madame, as she
limped away to take the street-car.
Some of Madame Jozain's neighbors remem-
bered afterward that they slept badly that
night, had uneasy dreams and heard myste-
rious noises; but as there was a thunderstorm
about daybreak, they had concluded that it


was the electricity in the air which caused
their restlessness. However, Pepsie afterward
insisted that she had heard Lady Jane cry
out, and call "Pepsie!"-as if in great distress
or fear, and that about the same time, there
were sounds of hushed voices, rumbling of
wheels, and other mysterious noises. But her
mother had told her she was dreaming.
So upset was Pepsie by the night's experience
that she looked quite pale and ill as she sat by
her window next morning, waiting for Madame
Jozain to open the shutters and doors.
How strange! It was eight o'clock, and still
no sign of life in the house opposite! The
milkman had rung his bell in vain; the brick-
dust vender had set his bucket of powdered
brick on the very steps, and shrieked his dis-
cordant notes close to the door; the clothes-pole
man had sung his dismal song; and the snap-
bean woman had chanted her three syllables,
not unmusically; and yet, late as was the hour,
no one appeared to open the door of Madame
Jozain's house.
At last Pepsie could no longer endure her
"You go and see what's the matter," she
said to her little handmaid.
So Tite zigzagged across the street, flew up
the steps, and pounded vigorously on the door;
then she tried the shutters and the gate, and
finally even climbed the fence and peeped in
at the back windows. In a trice, she was back,
gasping and wild-eyed:
"Bress yer, Miss Peps! W'at I done tol'
yer? Dem 's all gone. Ain't a stick or nofin'
in dat dar house Jes' ez empty ez a gourd! "
At first, Pepsie would not believe the dread-
ful news; but finally, when she was convinced
that Madame had fled in the night and taken

Lady Jane with her, she sank into the very
depths of woe and refused to be comforted.
Then Paichoux and Tante Modeste were
called into a family council, and Paichoux did
his very best to solve the mystery. But all he
could learn was from Madame's landlord, who
said that Madame Jozain had paid her rent and
given up her key, saying that she had decided,
very suddenly, to follow her son. This was all
the information the landlord could give, and
Paichoux returned dejectedly with this meager
I had my plans," he said, and I was waiting
for the right moment to put them in operation.
Now, the child has disappeared, and I can do
nothing! "
The next day, Pepsie, sitting sorrowfully at
her window, trying to find consolation in a game
of solitaire, saw a private carriage drive up to
the empty house and wait, while the servant
made inquiries for Madame Jozain.
Madame Jozain did live there," said M.
Fernandez, politely," but she went away be-
tween two days, and we know nothing at all
about her. There was something strange about
it, or she never would have left without bidding
her friends good-bye, and leaving some future
The servant imparted this scanty information
to the lady in the carriage, who drove away
looking greatly disappointed.
The arrival of this elegant visitor, directly
succeeding Madame's flight, furnished a sub-
ject for romantic conjecture.
I should n't wonder," said Pepsie, "if that
was Lady's mamma, who has come back after
all! Oh, how dreadful that she was n't here
to see her!" and then poor Pepsie cried, and
would not be consoled.

(To be continued.)



AN elephant may be taught to dance, to ride
a velocipede, to stand on his head, and to do
other wonderful things; and his keepers have
found, by long experience, that one of the most
effectual methods of teaching these feats is to
reward the great pupil with some dainty bit to
eat. He will work hard and long for a single
lump of crisp, white sugar, and push aside, with
scarcely a glance, food which other captive ani-
mals would be only too glad to receive.
Nor is his taste for tidbits the result of life
in captivity; the wild elephants of the far-away
East are quite as fond of dainties as their more
civilized brethren, and almost every day of their
lives, to obtain their much-loved sweets, they
perform feats nearly as wonderful as those taught
the trained elephants by their keepers.
With the exception of Ceylon, which seems to
be truly an elephants' paradise, full of everything
that even the most particular of the monsters
could desire, the haunts of the elephant, both
African and Indian, are far from well-stocked
with the sweet bits for which they seek; and
even such as there are, may be hidden away
under the earth or hung far up overhead, in such
a situation as to make their possession quite im-
possible, except by the use of skill and intelli-
One favorite food of the African elephant is
the tender, juicy roots of the mimosa-tree, which
grows in scattered groups through most of the
meadows and lowlands of central Africa.
When an elephant finds a young tree of this
sort, it is not difficult, as a rule, for him to get at
the roots, especially if the surrounding soil is
moist and loose, as is often the case after it has
been soaked by the heavy rainfalls of the tropics.
If the tree is loose, the elephant, knowing his
strength, winds his trunk firmly round the tree,
and plucks it from the earth, a feat which is no
harder for him than the pulling up of a flower
is for a child.

But the elephant does not stop here; experi-
ence has taught him the most comfortable way
of enjoying his prize, so without relaxing his
hold, he turns the tree completely over, and
stands it with its upper branches thrust down
into the place where the roots were. Then the
earthy roots, now replacing the branches, remain
within easy reach of the strong and deft trunk.
African travelers tell us of great tracts of
country almost covered with these inverted
trees. Seeing the dry trees turned upside down
one would be more likely to think a wood had
been reversed by mischievous fairies, than to sup-
pose hungry elephants had been feeding there.
Sometimes an elephant will find a tree which
defies his greatest efforts, and absolutely refuses
to be uprooted. But the elephant does not give
it up. Not at all. He either brings another ele-
phant to help him a thing they often do when
the work is too much for one-or, if he cannot
find a friend, he sets his own wits to work.
He makes use of his tusks as levers, thrusting
them, as if they were crowbars, deep under the
roots, and pries away slowly and steadily until
the tree is loosened; and then with a great wrench
he completely uproots it and it goes toppling
over, leaving the clever elephant victorious.
But the elephant does not feed on roots only;
the fruits of several trees are much preferred to
the tenderest roots or juiciest leaves and grasses,
and to secure these fruits the elephant can be
both intelligent and persevering.
In the northern part of Central Africa, almost
as far north as these animals are now found
wild, grows an enormous tree, the fruit of which
is perhaps the favorite food of all known to these
fruit eaters. But the elephant can not deal
with this sturdy forest monarch as he would
with other trees, for in size and strength it holds
among fruit-trees almost the rank that the ele-
phant does among the beasts, and it defies him
to do it harm. Its wiry roots, deep planted in



the warm soil, are too firm to be torn up, and
its mighty stem successfully resists any attempt
to break or even to bend it.
But far up in the air among the lofty branches
hang at the proper season great masses of fruit,
a temptation to every passing elephant, and a
prize to be possessed at any cost.
Devising ways to secure this fruit placed
thus just out of reach, has, without doubt, given
rise to much thought among the clever ele-
phants; for, unquestionably, waiting for the
fruit to fall unassisted, in that land where the
wind so seldom blows, would be very weary
work, since the fruit is scarcely larger than a
plum. And even were a score to fall at a time,
they would not go far toward satisfying an ele-
phant's appetite.
The hungry animal, however, is not likely to
tamely abandon his efforts, in a case like this;
certainly not where it is a mere trial of strength
between animal and vegetable.
Just how the elephant reached the solution
of the difficulty can not, of course, be known;
perhaps one day after having exerted himself to
his utmost; in the way so successful with the
yielding mimosas but quite useless with this
tree, he lost his temper and determined to give
battle to the stubborn tree just as he would if
confronted by an obstinate enemy of his own
Retreating to a considerable distance, he may
have charged fiercely, with lowered head, and

struck the forest king so heavy a blow with his
great forehead, that the tree trembled and shook
in every branch, and the fruits, jarred from
their resting-places far above, came rattling
down in a perfect shower, a peace-offering
likely to appease the enraged animal.
But, however the lesson was learned, it was
not forgotten,-for all the elephants understand


ii~ 4
I, d i. .;.-


-- ---




the trick, and can secure the dainty sweets with
very little more effort than they would bestow
on obtaining any other fruit.
Trees, however, are not the only sufferers
from the appetite for dainties and the ready wit
of these great forest rangers.
In some parts of Africa, one may come upon
large spaces of land which have exactly the
appearance of newly plowed fields in far-away
lands of civilization, land which seems to await
the coming of the sower; but this "plowing"
is again the work of the ever-industrious ele-
phants, who with the sturdy plows of ivory

which nature has bestowed upon them for so
many uses, turn up the soil almost as well as the
farmer with his patent plow.
But the elephants do not tear up the earth in
this way as a preparation for planting, but to
gather a harvest. Their delicate sense of smell
has assured them that here lie buried in the
friendly soil quantities of a certain delicious
and juicy bulb which forms one of the ele-
phants' most plentiful and best-prized foods.
These bulbs they unearth, and gathering them
up with their sensitive trunks, reap a delicious
reward for their labor and intelligence.



A STANDS for the AMAZON, mighty and grand,
And the B 's BERESINA, on Muscovy's strand,
The placid CHARLES River will fit for the C,
While the beautiful DANUBE is ready for D.
The E is the ELBE in Deutschland far North,
And the first F, I find, strange to say, is the FORTH.
The great river GANGES can go for the G,
And for H our blue HUDSON will certainly be;
The quaint IRRAWADDY for I has its claims,
And the J is the limpid and beautiful JAMES.
The K is for KAMA, I know in a jiffy,
And the L is the LOIRE and the prosperous LIFFEY.
For M we have plenty to choose from, and well,
There 's the noble MISSOURI, the gentle MOSELLE.
For N we have NILE, and the ONION is O,
While for P you can choose the gray PRUTH or the Po.
The Q is the QUINEBAUG, one of our own,
But the R comes to front with the RHINE and the RHONE.
For the S there 's the SHANNON, a beautiful stream,
And the T is the TIBER where Rome reigns supreme.
The URAL, I think, will with U quite agree,
And the turbulent VOLGA will fit for the V.
The W 's WESER, and XENIL is X
(You may find it spelled with a J, to perplex).
Then for Y, YANG-TSE-KIANG is simple and easy,
And to end the long list with a Z, take ZAMBESI.



ACK and Jill Rey- decided to look for him. At all events, on
nard, before I be- another night when the moon was but a faint
came acquainted crescent against the sky, she stole quietly away,
with them, lived in following the same trail over which Jack had
a deep dark valley passed a few nights before until she saw a
in the Sierra Madre ranch house where lights were gleaming; then
Mountains of South- she stopped, raised her pointed nose high in air
ern California; a and sniffed, looked about her and sniffed again.
canon that was a As she stepped around a tall yucca, she made
green river in its out in the darkness a chicken roosting on a
beauty of foliage, limb of greasewood. Here was a supper; and
as it wound away with a quick jump Jill seized the fowl. Then
for miles through came a sharp quick sound, and, uttering a cry
the heart of the of fear, poor Jill found herself caught in the
mighty range. jaws of a steel trap that held her fast. Strug-
S'Jack and Jill were gles, tears (if foxes cry), moans, and howls were
t" % v ,. mountain folk, hav- of no avail, but Jill fought fitfully for freedom
,, ing their home in throughout the long night. In the morning
the thick growth of the rancher appeared, smiling as if he knew
greasewood and manzanita* that covered the where Jack had gone. He released poor terri-
slopes; perhaps lying on isolated rocks in sunny fled Jill, and, instead of killing her, handled
places during the day, and only occasionally her injured paw carefully; so gently, in fact,
venturing down into the lowland at night, that she made no attempt to bite. Taking her
when their human enemies were sound asleep. under his arm he strode down to the ranch,
If foxes talk, I have no doubt that Jack and jumped into his carriage, and an hour later
Jill were cautioned about these lowland expe- drove into an orange-grove in Pasadena. Here
editions by certain old and gray foxes, and the first thing Jill saw, when released from the
warned that there was danger even at night. bag in which she had been carried, was Master
Be this as it may, Jack became the unfortunate Jack sitting under an orange-tree, with a fine
possessor of the secret, brought perhaps on the collar about his neck, and looking as comfort-
wind itself, that in a certain ranch yard there able as you please except that he was holding
were some dainty young chickens, up one paw. So he, too, had fallen a victim
Jack, apparently, did not trust his secret to to the trap!
anyone, not even to his friend Jill; and one Jill was soon provided with a collar and
night, when it was very dark and even the chain and tied to the same tree; and so they
coyotes did not care to venture out, he strolled met again.
down the mountain, crept through the manza- Exactly what they said, I can not pretend
nita brush to a trail, and gaily trotted down into to tell; but what I think they said, as I
the valley, watched them from my window, was this:
Jack failed to appear the next morning, or Did you come down to find me, Jill ?"
the next thereafter; and Jill, in all probability, Jack seemed to ask.
A dense, mahogany-colored shrub which grows in the western United States.

"Yes, and I was caught in a trap," was
Jill's answer.
"So was I," he must have said, for he held
up his paw and groaned dismally.
Ah if you had not made such a secret of
it, if you had been generous and told me about
the ranch, I could have gone with you and we
should not have been here," was what Jill had to


glossy fur and brushes, and became members
of the family. Occasionally there was a little
trouble. Mouse and Dinah, the two grey-
hounds of whom you have read in ST. NICH-
OLAS, grew jealous of the attention of their
mistress. To stand by and see a fox, or worse,
two foxes, have a whole chop and then be of-
fered the bones, was too much to bear; so, as

z I"~tg~'l"'lr
i-::: :'''''
G--- __~i;.


say next. "You were going to eat that chicken
alone, Jack. You know you were."
"Did you bite that man coming down? "
asked Jack, probably being quite willing to
change the subject.
No," Jill replied.
Though Jack had been very savage at first,
Jack and Jill grew tamer each day, and never
attempted to bite their mistress. They ate from
her hand, liked to have her stroke their fine

soon as their mistress was out ol sight, Mouse
or Dinah would draw near, and while one at-
tracted the foxes' attention, the other would
steal the chop. This went on for some time,
and Jack had almost made up his mind to bite
some one,- in fact, he did give his mistress one
little nip,- before the reason was discovered.
Jack and Jill grew fatter every day, and I
often saw them looking in the direction of the
little stream, with ears up, evidently listening to


the sound of waters that came from their moun-
tain home.
As a rule they were taken to the barn at night.
Once, however, they were forgotten, and a coyote
roamed up through the grove and undoubtedly
would have made a late supper; but here a
curious trick of Southern California foxes came
into play and saved them. They both climbed
the tree and from the top branches looked down
on Don Coyote, who could but stand upon his

were so attractive, it was decided that they must
have their pictures taken. So one day a very
patient photographer succeeded in making the
accompanying picture of them.
Now, whether they thought that the picture
might be used in identifying them in case of an
escape I do not know; but neither fox would
look up when placed on the piazza railing; and
it took three grown persons, beside boys and
dogs, to keep their attention; then, just as the


hind legs and give utterance to his weird
laughing bark. How Jack and Jill gained the
top of the tree might be a mystery to my read-
ers in the East, for foxes there, as a rule, do not
climb trees; but this pair shinned up in a way
well known to active boys. In fox-hunting here,
I have known the sly Reynards to leap into a
tree, climb and reach from its branches the
limbs of a tall sycamore, and, by following the
masses of vines which interlace the arroyo, or
little stream, travel for some distance without
touching the ground, to the confusion of the
fox-hounds, who sought in vain for the scent.
Jack and Jill soon regained their spirits, and
when the lame paws were cured, they were as
bright foxes as ever stole a chicken ; and as they

photographer was ready, Jack would look down
again and Jill would follow suit. Finally, the
photographer imitated the cries of dogs, cats,
and various animals, the boys shouted, I snapped
the whip and threatened them with the pack
of fox-hounds (only too willing to dine upon
them), their mistress waved a white banner
from the balcony above, until, amid a perfect
pandemonium, Jack and Jill looked up, the
camera clicked -and here they are.
But one day Jack escaped. Whether fright-
ened by the photographer, or the Valley Hunt
fox-hounds, or overcome by homesickness, no
one knows; but the following morning he was
gone, and the truth of history requires the state-
ment that Jill went tumbling after."


i H~



I I ij1L




said little Violet, running
across the deck; "this is
my birthday, you know."
"So it is, my little girl,"
said Mr. Davidson, lifting
9 the flaxen-haired child in
his arms and kissing her; "and here we are
in the middle of the Atlantic. Is n't that about
right, Captain? "
Yes," said Captain Bedford, balancing his
short rotund body on his stout legs and sending
a cheery smile out of his keen gray eyes over his
plump red cheeks and across his straight little
nose. We shall be about half way across, this
afternoon. And so it 's your birthday, is it,
little one? Well, God bless you, and may you
have many of them."
"Thank you, Captain," said the child; "and
I wish you many of them too."
And what is my little girl going to do to
celebrate her eighth birthday ?" asked Mr.
I am going all over the ship," she said,
"and if I find any sick or poor people I 'm
going to give them some money."
"Where are you going to get the money ?"
asked her father.
Why, from you, of course! she exclaimed.
Mr. Davidson laughed. He was very close
with his money and seemed an unhappy man;
but Violet could have had the earth if it had
been in his gift.
Captain," she said, "will you let me go all
over the ship ? "
"Yes," he replied, "but I must send some
one with you."
Oh, I can take care of myself," she said.
You might get lost, though," said Captain
Bedford, laughing. "Quartermaster, go with
this little lady and show her over the ship."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the old seaman, smiling
with pleasure at his task.

The child placed her tiny hand trustfully in
the sailor's big, gnarled fist, and went tripping
along beside him, chattering as if she had known
him ever since her brown eyes opened on the
The big ocean liner, City of Albany," was
plowing her way westward. She was not one of
the ocean greyhounds, and although five days
out from Liverpool, she had five days ahead
of her before Fire Island light would heave up
over the distant purple rim of the sea." Mr.
Davidson was a very rich man. He had been
traveling in Europe for two months in quest
of needed recreation, for he had fairly worn
himself out with hard chasing after the fleeting
dollar. Violet was his only comfort, for her
mother was dead; and he had taken the child
with him because he could not bear a day's
separation from her. She was the one being
whom he loved, the only creature who could
find the way to the soft spot in his heart. He
gratified her every wish, and had she not been a
child of the loveliest disposition, she would have
been hopelessly spoiled. But her sweet nature
seemed to be above all thoughts of selfishness,
and Mr. Davidson, as he realized this, felt that
his daughter was much less like him than like
her noble mother, who was lying at rest in the
shadows of Woodlawn.
Down in the forecastle, a swinging ship's lan-
tern was throwing a fitful and unsteady glim-
mer of light across a bunk in which lay a sick
sailor boy. He was a slight young fellow, with
fair hair that hung in curls about his hot and
throbbing brow. He did not look strong
enough for the bitterly hard life of a sailor; yet
he was on the ship's papers as an able seaman.
One would have fancied him better suited to
the helm of a pretty little yacht than to the
grimy forecastle of an ocean steamer.
There was a head-sea on, and the sick lad
could feel himself suddenly lifted and swung
high up with an irresistible rush. Then he would


go plunging down again, and the next sea
would meet the descending bows and smite
them a mighty blow, which would ring through
the iron hollows of the hull with clanging re-
verberations. As some sea heavier than its
fellows would strike a more than usually
powerful blow, the boy would turn restlessly
on his pillow and mutter :
Lay aloft there! Man
the fore-topsail clew-lines
and bunt-lines; weather
fore-topsail brace! No,
Father, I can't stand it. 'i i|l .
Settle away the halliards! I- _l-*.
Brace in and clew down! -~ -
I 'm going now; good-
bye, good-bye. Ease -_
off the weather sheet! -
Clew up to windward!
Ease away the lee sheet!
Clew up to leeward! It 's
going to blow harder to-
night. No, Father, it 's '
no use. I can't." I
"Here, take a drap o' _
this," said a voice beside
him; and a spoonful of J *
medicine was held against ''l
his lips. "The boy 's got ,.'
something' onto his mind." .
And old John Bloater,
having returned the '"' '
medicine bottle to its
place and made a record
of the time, sat down
again on his three-legged \
camp-stool and resumed "THE CHILD PLACED HER
his watch. He had been
detailed to nurse the sick boy, because they
had been shipmates before in a sailing-ship,
and had become attached to one another.
The lad had shipped in Liverpool on the pre-
vious voyage of the City of Albany," and just
after returning to that port had fallen sick. His
case did not appear to be serious, and he was
not sent to a hospital; but when the ship was
clear of the Channel, he became much worse and
was put to bed.
Old John Bloater was not a handsome man.
He had a low, bulging forehead and bushy gray

eyebrows, beneath which his little black eyes
gleamed like coals half smothered in ashes.
His cheeks were very red and flabby, and his
nose was round, small, and purple, betraying the
fact that its owner had engaged in many fierce
bouts with that common enemy of the sailor,
old John Barleycorn. But John Bloater had

---I -- l = I.-, j .


many good qualities, in spite of the fact that
he was not the sort of man whom you would
invite to a dinner party. He was honest, and
he was loyal to his friends; and he had nursed
the sick boy as faithfully as a woman, if not
quite so tenderly. Very particular he was
about the medicines, too. There were three
kinds, one of them being plain whisky, which
John loved; but he would n't have touched
it for the world, because it was for the sick
boy. The old sailor had made three beckets
-little loops of rope-on the bulkhead beside


the bunk, and had slung the three bottles in
them. The bottle upon the left hand had a
piece of red flannel tied around its neck, and
that on the right had a piece of green bunting.
The center bottle was unadorned. Under the
bottles was pinned a long slip of dirty paper,
on which was written in a quaint, cramped
hand the following


"What on earth have you done to those bot-
tles ? asked the ship's doctor when he first saw
these arrangements.
Marked 'em so's there can't be no mis-

tooks," said old John Bloater. Starboard an'
port medical, an' grog. Starboard medical,
green; port medical, red; grog, nothing 'Cause
why ? Any sailor man wot can't tell grog with-
.a : oo: Is 4g
6 6.28 :B 7.01:7 30'

out no mark on earth have you done to those bot-
es ? asked the ship's doctor pereived that old John's ar
these arrangement of the bottles, together with his time-
table kept to the very second, insured accuracy
tooks" said old Johministration Bloater. Starboar medicines; and an'
port edicals, an' grog. Starboard medical,nge
green; port medical, red; grog, nothing 'Causebility to
why ? Any sailor man wot can't tell grog with-

dishout no mark onto it ought'er be a marine."ties.
And the doctor per wasceived that old John's ar-silence,
shakingement of the bottles, together with his time-
table kept to the very second, insurer and Violet,accuracy
in the administration of the medicines;hip, at length
departed thoroughly confident of the strangeastle.

Oh," exclaimed Violet, what an ugly
place! "
nurse's carefulnes rose to his feetand of his full abilie could,
and, seeing the beautiful child, involuntarily

took off his cap and made an awkward bow.
Old John Bloater was sitting in silence,

shaking hissy," head sadly over the mautterings ofplace
his patient, when the quartermaster and Violet,
in making their rounds of the ship, at length
reached the forecastle.

but itOh," exclre sailor men lives, forwhat an uglythat."
place! "
John rose to his feet as quickly as he could,
and, seeing the beautiful child, involuntarily
took off his cap and made an awkward bow.
Yes, Missy," he said, it ain't a putty place;
but it 's where sailor men lives, for all that."
"But you have a sick man here."
"Wal, he ain't hardly wot you might call a

man, seeing' as how he 's only twenty years old
an' don't look that; an' yet he 's be'n to sea
fur four year, an' he 's as good a sailor man as
ever I see, Missy."
"He 's terribly sick, is n't he ? asked the
child in a subdued tone.
Yes, Missy, he 's just about as sick as he
kin be without goin' below hatches ; but yet I
reckon as how he 's a-goin' to pull through.
'Cause why? He 's young an' strong an' a
mighty good boy, an' I I well, blow it all!
he ain't a-goin' to die ef I kin help it! "
And old John Bloater turned away and drew
his hand across his eyes.
But he '11 never get well in this place. It
rocks so."
"'T ain't edzackly wot you might call rockin',
Missy," said John. Don't you see we 're right
up in the eyes of her here ? But every time she
jumps a sea, she takes him right along toward
"Does he live in New York? "
I could n't rightly say that. 'Cause why ?
Ever since I knowed him he 's be'n a-livin' in
forecastles, like this one; but he come from New
York, I believe, Missy."
"Well, I 'm going to ask the captain to put
him in a better place than this."
"Lor' bless you, Missy, there ain't no better
place fur sailor men aboard ship."
"I don't care. He ought to have a state-
Old John Bloater's eyes grew as round as
saucers, and he stood shaking with laughter as
the child took the quartermaster's hand and
went out.

Papa," said Violet, entering Captain Bed-
ford's room, where her father was engaged in a
game of chess with the skipper, I 've been all
over the ship, and it 's not nice at all."
"I was afraid that you would n't like it
much, dear," said the captain.
"I don't. But, Papa, I 've found a poor
sick sailor, and I want him put in a better
But, my dear child-" began Mr. Davidson.
"Now, don't talk like that, Papa. He 's
only a young boy. He ain't hardly wot you
might call a man,'" she said, unconsciously re-


eating old John Bloater's words; "and he 's
an American, too."
Well, I 'm very sorry for him, Violet," said
Mr. Davidson.
"All right," replied the child, decisively;
"then you '11 come with me and see him."

Si ->
4J4c& l


Mr. Davidson looked at Captain Bedford, then,
who said in reply to the look: C
The young fellow is very sick, but I believe H
he is very well taken care of. However, there Th
is no objection to your going to see him, if you F
wish to humor her." teen,"
"Come along then, Violet," said Mr. David- I was
son. I '11 go with you." death
I '11 go too," said the captain, all hi
A few moments later old John Bloater was tried

y surprised by the entrance of these three
;uished visitors.
ow 's your patient, Bloater? asked the
al, sir, he don't seem no better nor no
to me; but the doctor says as how he 's
doin' as wal as might be sup-
At this moment the ship's doctor
entered, and immediately paused
on seeing the sick boy's visitors.
"Now, Papa," said Violet;
"here 's the doctor. I want
you to ask him if this sick man
would n't get well sooner if he
was in a better place."
The doctor looked at Mr.
S Davidson and shrugged his
shoulders, as much as to say that
it would be a good thing for the
patient, but that he did not see
how it could be done.
"Lay aloft! the sick boy
cried out. Man the boom
tricing-lines! Trice up! Lay
out and loose! Oh, I can't
,:' stand it, Father; I must go."
Mr. Davidson started and
turned very white. Bring the
lantern," he said in an unsteady
S voice, "so that I can see his
Old John Bloater wondering-
ly obeyed, and Mr. Davidson
stepped up to the bunk and
bent over the sufferer.
"It is he exclaimed, stag-
gering back and dropping into
John's camp-stool.
For a moment he was silent;
lifting his head, he said:
aptain Bedford, that boy is my son!"
[oly mackerel exclaimed old John.
e others were silent with astonishment.
te ran away from home at the age of six-
said Mr. Davidson. I drove him to it;
too hard with him, just after his mother's
.I tried to force him into business, when
s tastes ran to art. He had talent, and I
to crush it. I pray that he maybe spared


to me now, or my punishment will be too great For answer the boy put his arm lovingly
for me to bear." around his father's neck.
Before evening the sick boy was removed to "And is this dear little girl," he asked,
a comfortable stateroom, and old John was de- my sister ?"

f t
I-- I ?i.--- -

I1 1 I


~; HI
Vsii '
-7, ~

-., ''' ~5
rc I

II: ,..........


tailed by the captain's special order to continue
nursing him. Violet, who had been but three
years old when the boy ran away, could hardly
understand that this young sailor was the big
brother whom she hardly remembered. In two
days, however, he had made such progress that
he was able to recognize every one.
"Harry," said his father bending over him,
"come home, and be my son again!"

"Yes," said Violet, I 'm your little sister."
"It's more than I deserve," he said, kissing her.

Harry's sailing is now confined to summer
cruises in his handsome little sloop yacht. Old
John Bloater has left the sea, and is janitor of
Mr. Davidson's place of business. But his
chief delight is to act as crew of that little
yacht in the summer.



OH, whom did you meet, my children sweet, as out of the door you ran
This sparkling autumn morning ? Now tell me if you can!
What is it you say ? Not a living thing, except high up in the blue
We saw the white gulls sailing as we came down to you."

But surely somebody met you as you ran skipping out,
With your merry morning laughter and many a joyous shout,
And kissed your lips and cheeks and chin Thea, we tell you true,
We did n't meet any living thing as we danced down to you."

But who then has made your cheeks so red, and nipped each dear little nose,
And kissed your lips till they glow as bright as my crimson Burgundy rose ?
You did n't see but you felt the stranger,- did n't you ? Well, he came
Last night across the ocean, and Jack Frost is his name!

~ V
v'!i ."'-



I kI I 's I

~ ii ~i~
I! /

Aha, you did n't remember him, did you, my darlings twain !
A year ago he brought the snow, and here he is again;
And he 's always ready and waiting as soon as the summer 's done,
Full of his tricks and his antics, just brimming over with fun.

He frightens the poor little flowers to death, but you don't mind him at all!
He cracks the chestnut-burs in the woods and lets the brown nuts fall;
He covers the laughing little brook with a lid of sparkling ice,
And he hunts for cricket and grasshopper and hushes their noise in a trice.

He was riding on the wind, full tilt, when you came out of the door,
And he said to himself, Here are some friends I think I 've seen before!
Here are two little girls I met last year, and I '11 toss their yellow hair,
And paint their cheeks, and pinch their ears, and follow them everywhere."

Ah, dear round cheeks so fresh and pink with the touch of gay Jack Frost,
My little girls with the shining eyes and gold hair lightly tossed !
I laugh to think you could n't guess who met you on your way,
As you danced down to your Thea, this bright October day.



An Ice World.
THE ice period properly belongs in the mid-
dle of the last age; but it is of such importance
that it deserves a place all by itself.
Hitherto our beautiful old world had never
had a touch of frost. The poles were beginning
to cool, for the crust was thickening and the
earth was depending upon the sun for heat;
but there had been no such thing as ice--no
frost. The giant mammals did not know
what cold meant. Suddenly it came, and prob-
ably they never knew what killed them. It
seems from the way the bodies are found, that
they were overwhelmed by water which froze
instantly; otherwise the bodies would not be so
perfect. What caused this sudden change, no
one can tell. Different causes are suggested.
Something may have happened to move part of

the earth farther away from the sun, thus les-
sening the heat. You know what is meant by
the earth's axis, and that the ends of the axis are
the poles. It is known for certain that the poles
have not always been where they are now. Some
great shock may have upset the earth. One
geologist thinks that it came in contact with
comets and turned over; but how this turn-
over made the sudden cold is a mystery.
Others are of opinion that something kept the
sun for a time from giving the usual heat to
the earth.
Whatever the cause, vast fields of ice filled
plains, valleys, and seas. They filled the rivers,
crept up on their banks, stretched out to the hills,
and covered them. So deep was the ice that it
filled the lowest valleys, and few were the peaks
high enough to rise above its surface. Mount
Washington was just tall enough to show its
head. Desolate wastes of ice and snow were


everywhere. There was no sound of running
water, for the rivers and brooks were stilled.
These great ice-seas each had a central point
or line from which they seem to have started.
In North America there were three such begin-
nings situated where the most rain now falls.
One ran down the well-watered Atlantic side of
the continent, and the ice-seas which spread
away from this were very deep and wide; a
second ran down the Pacific side; and a third
followed the high ridges of the Rocky Moun-
In Europe, the mountains of the region now
called Norway and Sweden were the starting-
point, and the ice stretched from these far away
on the east into what is now Russia, into where
Germany lies on the south, and completely
covered what was to be Great Britain.
In high valleys, among the mountains whose
tops are covered with perpetual snow, are often
found seas of ice, called glaciers." They are
formed thus: Snow that falls upon lofty moun-
tains melts very little even in summer. So in
valleys high up among the mountains, it gath-
ers to a great depth, and from the weight of
the snow lying above the lower layers becomes
icy, as a snowball does when squeezed. The
upper crust melts a little during the heat of the
day, and the water sinks down through the
snow, and then freezes at night. From this
melting and freezing the mass of snow is soon
changed into a sea of ice.
Remember that when water freezes, it ex-
pands. If we fill a bottle with water and let it
freeze over night, in the morning we find that
the bottle is cracked by the swelling of the ice.
So it is with the water that forms glaciers. When
it freezes, it stretches, and pushes its way down
in whatever direction the valleys slope.
Glaciers of to-day are much smaller than the
ice-seas of long ago; but still, in studying them,
we learn to understand the old glaciers.
In traveling down valleys those ancient gla-
ciers left traces of their journey. Over all the
places where the ice-seas passed, the rocks are
rounded and highly polished. A field of these
rounded rocks, when seen from a distance, looks
like a field filled with sheep crouching on the
ground, and Swiss geologists have called them
roches moutonnedes-" sheep-like rocks." In a

valley along the summit of the Rocky Moun-
tains, near the Mountain of the Holy Cross,"
there is a beautiful display of these polished,
rounded rocks.
As the glaciers moved down the valleys, great
rocks, frozen fast in the ice on the sides and at
the bottom, scratched and marked other rocks as
they passed by and over them. Sometimes these
scoring are very broad and deep, for the im-
mense rocks the glaciers carried were like strong,
powerful tools in the grasp of a mighty engine;
sometimes the lines are as fine as those of a fine
engraving. They usually run all one way, and
by looking at the direction in which the lines run
one can tell the direction in which the glacier
moved. In the sandstone west of New Haven,
Connecticut, the deep, broad scoring can be
plainly seen, running toward the southeast. The
height at which these scratches occur tells us
something of the depth of the ice.
Markings in the White Mountains indicate
that the ice was more than a mile deep over the
region now known as northern New England.
Wherever the glaciers melted, they left an im-
mense amount of drift,"- that is, sand, gravel,
and stones of all sizes, which had been frozen in
the ice when the glaciers were forming. The
northeastern part of the continent, down to Long
Island, New York, is thickly covered with it.
It changed the face of the country in a great
many cases, filling up valleys and changing the
courses of rivers. The bed over which the
Niagara River formerly flowed was so filled up
with drift that the river slowly cut a new way
for itself out of the solid rock, and in this new
channel it flows to-day.
The stones of this drift are of all sizes. Some
are as small as pebbles, others as large as small
houses. There is one at Bradford, Massachu-
setts, which measures thirty feet each way, and
weighs four and a half million pounds. There
is another on a ledge in Vermont which is even
larger than that, and which must have been car-
ried by the ice across a valley lying five hundred
feet below where the stone now is, showing that
the ice was five hundred feet thick. Great
boulders of trap-rock extend through Connecti-
cut on a line running to Long Island Sound;
and as some of the same kind are found in Long
Island, the glacier is believed to have crossed


the Sound, carrying these rocks with it. An
immense statue of Peter the Great, in St. Peters-
burg, stands on one of these glacier boulders of
solid granite, which weighs three million pounds.
One of the largest boulders in America is in the
Indian village of Mohegan, near Montville, Con-
necticut. The Indians call the rock "Shehegan."
Its top, which is flat and as large as the floor of
a good-sized room, is reached by a ladder.
Sometimes these boulders are found perched
upon bare ledges of rock, so nicely balanced
that, though of great weight, they may be
rocked by the hand. They are called "rock-
ing-stones." A picture of one is in ST. NICHO-
LAS for March, 1888. Near the little Connecti-
cut village of Noank, on Long Island Sound,
there is an immense boulder called by the people
there "Jemimy's Pulpit." It was formerly a
rocking-stone. But the rock has worn away
below it and it can no longer be moved.
Some of these boulders have been carried
great distances by the moving ice. In Ohio
and Michigan, some are found which have been
thus moved four hundred miles. This is ascer-
tained by finding where rock like the boulder is
located. For instance, on the top of Mount
Katahdin, the highest mountain in Maine, pieces
of limestone with fossil remains in them occur.
No such rock can be found anywhere nearer
than in a ledge many miles to the northwest.
So these pieces must have been carried by the
glaciers from the northwest ledge.
When we think of those immense seas of ice,
over a mile deep, and extending across conti-
nents, creeping slowly down the slopes, we can
form some idea of the terrible effects they pro-
duced. Rocks were broken up and ground to
dust. Valleys were deeply plowed out and
widened. Geologists say there are good rea-
sons for believing that the lakes of British
America and our Great Lakes were once only
river valleys which the glaciers "scooped"
out and made into lake-beds.
Some have attempted to prove that a large

part of the work ascribed to glaciers is the effect
of icebergs floating in a sea which then covered
these regions. But no one who has studied the
doings of glaciers of the present day can ever
be convinced of this. The work of the glaciers
is so different from that of icebergs that there
can be no mistake. Icebergs, of course, con-
tain quantities of earth and stone. The Banks:
of Newfoundland are made of the earth and'
stone which icebergs have carried down for ages
past. Icebergs do plow up dirt and sand; but
it requires some strong, powerful body, moving
both more steadily and more slowly, to make
these parallel grooves and scratches in the rocks,
and to polish their surfaces. Besides, there are
no sea-shells in the drift, as there would be had
it been left by icebergs.
As for animals, we know that these desolate
fields of ice and snow could support none.
Still it may be that the ice-fields did not cover
all the earth at the same time, and animals may
have lived in some places, while others were
having their ice-age. It is certain, however,
that some species of animals, and also of plants,
were then lost forever; among them those gi-
gantic animals resembling our elephants, which
before this sudden cooling made the regions
now called Northern Europe and Siberia their
Now what was the purpose of this ice-age ?
According to Agassiz, the glaciers were God's
great plows; and when the ice vanished from
the earth, it left a surface prepared for the hus-
bandman. It ground up limestone and granite,
mixed them together, and thus made a soil fit
for grain to grow in, so that there might be food
for a higher order of beings than any yet cre-
ated. The ice-age was an important link in a
grandly perfect chain, and was just the prepara-
tion which the earth needed for the age to fol-
low, although there seems at first so great a
difference between our fertile fields with their
wealth of grain and those cheerless wastes of
snow and ice.



HEY! Niddy Hoot! my weeny silly lad,
ti.' ... Noddy, Off wi' ye to bed!
What is this I see !
-" Vowing he is no' Ho! Niddy Noddy,
for bed, An' are ye waking yet!
S While his bonny Sitting there without a word,
drowsy head Gaping like a hungry bird,
Tosses there an' tosses Is na that a weary sight
here, To mak' a body fret!
Like a ship at sea! M'undering an' blundering
Winking an' blinking, Along his sleepy way,
Eyes in shadow creep Lowering an' glowering
Straying an' playing Wi' nought at all to say;
Hide and seek wi' sleep; Daur ye now to tell a fib,--say it is na late,-
Whiles the flying laughter slips up his face Wi' yon little lanesome crib waiting for its'
astray, mate!
Whiles the dimples round his lips fleet and fly Mickle sense, or gude or bad,
away,- Is in that pretty head,
Not a notion, gude or bad, But an ye 'd mak' it more, my lad,-
Is in that golden head, Off wi' ye to bed!



AR from the routes of the stage-coaches,
Sin a certain small town, there lived
nearly a century ago, an old miser.
Being mortal, this old miser died; and
he left no near relatives to mourn or
pretend to mourn the loss which would have
been their gain. There was much curiosity in
the village as to what would become of the
old man's money, and for a long time this
wish for information was not gratified.


But after the lawyers had buzzed about over
the dead man's estate, and after the postman
had departed very proudly one morning with a
long letter sealed with several large black seals,
and after all the eight-day clocks in the village
had been wound and unwound twice, it was
whispered about that an heir had been found
for the old man's money.
Better than that, it was learned that the post-
man had brought the heir back with him from



HEY! Niddy Hoot! my weeny silly lad,
ti.' ... Noddy, Off wi' ye to bed!
What is this I see !
-" Vowing he is no' Ho! Niddy Noddy,
for bed, An' are ye waking yet!
S While his bonny Sitting there without a word,
drowsy head Gaping like a hungry bird,
Tosses there an' tosses Is na that a weary sight
here, To mak' a body fret!
Like a ship at sea! M'undering an' blundering
Winking an' blinking, Along his sleepy way,
Eyes in shadow creep Lowering an' glowering
Straying an' playing Wi' nought at all to say;
Hide and seek wi' sleep; Daur ye now to tell a fib,--say it is na late,-
Whiles the flying laughter slips up his face Wi' yon little lanesome crib waiting for its'
astray, mate!
Whiles the dimples round his lips fleet and fly Mickle sense, or gude or bad,
away,- Is in that pretty head,
Not a notion, gude or bad, But an ye 'd mak' it more, my lad,-
Is in that golden head, Off wi' ye to bed!



AR from the routes of the stage-coaches,
Sin a certain small town, there lived
nearly a century ago, an old miser.
Being mortal, this old miser died; and
he left no near relatives to mourn or
pretend to mourn the loss which would have
been their gain. There was much curiosity in
the village as to what would become of the
old man's money, and for a long time this
wish for information was not gratified.


But after the lawyers had buzzed about over
the dead man's estate, and after the postman
had departed very proudly one morning with a
long letter sealed with several large black seals,
and after all the eight-day clocks in the village
had been wound and unwound twice, it was
whispered about that an heir had been found
for the old man's money.
Better than that, it was learned that the post-
man had brought the heir back with him from


the last journey; and, still better, the postman
was expected at the inn, and when he came
would tell all that he knew. When evening
came the inn was crowded, but not much was
said. All were waiting for the postman.
Of course he was late; he knew that his im-
portance would be gone as soon as his news was
told. Taking a chair modestly near the door-
way, the postman sat himself down.
Good-evening, neighbor," said the village
Good-evening, one and all," replied the
"What news ? asked the schoolmaster.
"Little enough," replied the postman. "Have
you heard that the heir has been found ?"
There was a sudden scraping of chairs, as
the curious crowd gathered nearer.
"So it has been said of late," replied the
schoolmaster, with fitting reserve. And it has
also been asserted by some that none know
better than yourself who and what the heir
may be."
That I do," said the postman, trying to look
humble; "that I do, neighbors. In fact, as
some of you may know, I had the good fortune
to ride to town to-night with the youth who, for
aught I know, will soon be the richest of all
of us."
If it would not be an impropriety," said the
schoolmaster, stroking his chin, why not re-
count such particulars of his lineage, manners,
calling, and way of life as he may have con-
fided to you without seal of secrecy?"
This bold advance to an understanding met
with much favor-though there were those
who thought such bluntness of address did no
credit to the schoolmaster's shrewdness.
Seeing that further delay would not add to
either his popularity or his importance, the post-
man began his story. It was not a long one.
He had, it seems, been instructed by the law-
yers to meet the young man at a certain inn,
called the Blue Basin and Ladle," situated in
a seaport town some leagues away. From the
young man himself it had been learned that he
came from a distant colony, where he had been
traveling for several years.
He is," said the postman, a second cousin,
I believe-or possibly a niece's son. At all

events he is the nearest living relative, and will
inherit all the property."
"And what nature of a man may he be?"
asked the landlord.
"It 's hard for a simple man to tell," an-
swered the postman, stroking his chin. "He
seems to me an odd fish. He carried a fiddle
on his back; sang queer songs in a gibberish no
one could understand; hobnobbed with a trav-
eling Gipsy tinker whom we met upon the road;
made friends with the post-horses, and even
cured one of a lame forefoot. But he said noth-
ing to me; never inquired about his new neigh-
bors; and when I asked him about the crops,
said that he could n't wait to see them grow,
and advised me to save my breath for the hills
on the road. In fact, for a time I could n't de-
cide whether he was a crazy loon or a sim-
"And to what conclusion did you come at
last ? asked the schoolmaster.
Before this question could be answered, a
knock was heard on the door. "Come in, and
welcome! shouted the host. The door opened
and there entered an old Gipsy, once a tramp,
now a peddler, who sometimes came to the
town to sell knives and other small cutlery and
to do tinkering. Room was made for him with-
out a further word of greeting, and putting his
pack on the floor he sat down.
The postman, however, had not forgotten the
landlord's question, and now answered it, adding
enough information to interest the old Gipsy,
and thus include him in the audience-for the
postman was of the race of gossips, and would
talk to a rag-doll rather than keep silent.
"This young man from foreign parts," said
he, who has now fallen heir to the old miser's
gold, seems, to put it very fairly and to do jus-
tice to all concerned, neither more nor less than
a ninny. In truth, he knows next to nothing;
and if we may believe the old adage about a
fool and a fool's money, we shall live to see him
leave the town as penniless as he entered it."
There were a few questions asked and an-
swered, and then the talk turned to other
Several weeks passed on; the old miser's
money-commonly declared to be in rolls of
bright goldpieces, and to have been found stowed


cunningly away, as a dog hides bones -was
handed over to his heir. The young man cer-
tainly had nothing in his appearance or bearing
to contradict the very unfavorable judgment
delivered by the postman. In fact, acquain-
tance with him had led the villagers to think
the postman right.
No one had noticed, that night at the inn,
how attentively the old Gipsy listened to all that
was said. And no one thought it at all strange
that on the Gipsy's next visit to the town he
should call first at the miser's house, now oc-
cupied by the young heir.
"Would the rich young gentleman care to
buy any of my knives, scissors, or razors ?"
asked the Gipsy, when the door was opened.
I don't know," said the young fellow uncer-
tainly, as the Gipsy opened his pack and spread
the shining tools on the doorstep. What have
you to sell? "
Now that you are so rich, so very rich," said
the Gipsy, "you will have to shave every day.
It will never do for so rich a man to go un-
shaven like a porter!"
This repetition of the word rich was for a
purpose. The young man noticed it, and
"Why do you say I am so rich ?"
"You have the goldpieces that the old man
spent his life in securing," said the Gipsy; and
he left plenty of gold yes, plenty of gold "
"How do you know?" asked the young
man, as if much interested.
"I know how he grew it," said the Gipsy.
How he grew it ? repeated the other.
"How he grew it," repeated the Gipsy care-
"What do you mean?" asked the young
It is tiresome for me to stand here," said the
peddler; and it is too long a story to tell. If
I could have a bit of bread and cheese, I 'd tell
you the story gladly."
The young man was curious to hear what the
Gipsy had to say, and therefore invited him
into the house.
When they were seated in the tumbledown
old kitchen, the Gipsy said:
I am glad that you show yourself to be a
man of sense. Fortunate indeed is it for you

that you did not yield to the silly prejudice
against Gipsies that most of these stay-at-home
folk have. The good man who died, and whose
gold has come to you, had no foolish preju-
dices either. Though you are only a distant
relative, I see that you are heir to some of his fin-
est traits as well as to his money. I care nothing
for money myself, but I like to have my friends
enjoy life."
The young man seemed completely bewil-
dered by this foolish rigmarole, and sat silent,
but with his eyes fixed keenly upon his talkative
"Yes," continued the Gipsy; "your relative,
whose loss we so deeply regret, was kind to me
when I had need of kindness. I was once
arrested, and brought before the magistrates for
vagrancy and for sorcery, and he alone stood
by me and secured an acquittal. In return I
did him afavor-and he grew rich. He might
have been much richer, but he sold the pear-
"What pear-tree ? asked the young man.
"There are no pear-trees on the place."
Not on this place," said the Gipsy slyly.
"As I said, he sold the tree. That is, he sold
the farm where the tree is, which is much the
same thing."
"Surely one could not get rich by growing
pears ?" said the young man.
You never saw pears like these," answered
the Gipsy, pretending he was about to go.
The young man begged the peddler to tell
more of this strange story.
"It is useless," said the Gipsy, "you would
never believe a word of it. In fact, I hardly
believe it myself. I tell it only because you
seem to be interested."
But the young man insisted, and the peddler,
after a show of reluctance, sat down, being very
willing to tell the absurd story he had invented
with the hope of being able to rob the young
Your relation, whose untimely loss we all de-
plore," began this old scamp, "after he had
aided in clearing me of the charge of sorcery,
took me to his own house and there told me
that he himself dealt in the black art." Here
the Gipsy made a rhetorical pause and fixed his
big black eyes on the young man. Whether



or not his hearer understood what was said, he
appeared willing to listen. So the story was
"I was, of course, surprised; but in a few
words the old man, now no more, explained to
me that I was a somnambulist of the most ex-
traordinary powers."
"A what ? said the young heir.
"A sleep-walker. He assured me that I was
a sleep-walker of great ability."
"What of that ? said the young man.
"So I asked. He made me no very decided
answer, but begged I would lend him my as-
sistance in an enterprise of his own. I con
sented. He then requested that I should spend
several nights beneath his roof. I did so."
"You did ? "
"Yes. I was his guest."
"Is that all ? asked the young man.
"Oh, no. The best is to come. He was so
eager I should prolong my stay that I determined
to find out why. I pretended, on the next to
the last night that I was with him, to be fast
asleep, whereas in reality I remained awake.
To make my story short, the deceased came to
my room and after (as he thought) convincing
himself that I was sound asleep, took me by the
shoulder and said 'Come!' I rose and followed
him. Going to the stable he said, Take the
spade!' I took the spade, and away we went.
Exactly where I can scarcely remember "- here
the Gipsy paused and looked at the young man,
intending to give the impression that he could
tell all about it if he chose. Then he went on:
"We came to a certain pear-tree, and here he
directed me to dig. I dug a small hole in the
ground, and then he told me to stop. Next, he
took from his pocket a bag tightly tied. This
he deposited in the hole; in fact, buried it.
Then he directed me to go home; and home
I went.
You may be sure that I did not lose sight
of him the next night. He did not disturb me,
however, but set off by himself for the pear-tree.
I followed him at a safe distance and watched
all that he did. Going straight to the tree he
picked several of the pears, and breaking them
open, took from each a shining goldpiece!"
Again the peddler paused to see what effect
he had produced upon his companion, and

again he was disappointed, for the latter, though
still quietly attentive, made no sign of any sort.
I was surprised," said the Gipsy, for I had
never seen anything of the kind. Did you
ever ? "
No. I never," said the impassive youth
with a pretended yawn. Thinking anything in
the way of tact was thrown away upon the
stupid booby to whom he was talking, the
former tramp proceeded to state the rest of his
scheme without any foolish waste of words.
Now, if I should walk in my sleep again,"
said the Gipsy, I have no doubt I could find
that tree. And, if I can do so, we may both be
rich. I have very little money to plant, but as
the tree of course increases whatever may be
buried at its roots I have enough to secure me
a rich reward for my trouble."
"What do you wish to do?" asked the
young man.
"Plainly put, this: You and I will collect
all the money we can spare, and when I am
asleep to-night you shall do as your ancestor
did. I will walk and find the tree, and then
we can plant our money. On the next night
we will go and pick the pears !"
"I have another good plan," said the young
man slowly.
Pleased with any gleam of intelligence, the
Gipsy asked, "What is that ? "
"Bury the money crop again, and then we
shall have more yet!"
You are a genius answered the peddler,
pretending to be much pleased. That is just
what we will do "
Though the next night was bright as day,
with a big harvest moon pouring its mellow light
upon the country, the plan was carried out.
The old Gipsy arose, and with much cere-
mony and a pretense of cabalistic nonsense, ar-
rayed himself in a very gaily figured dressing-
gown taken from among the choicest things in
his pack. In a sleepy and mumbling tone, he
said something at the same time about his
"magic robe," thereby hoping to delude the
young simpleton. Tying a handkerchief about
his head for a night-cap and putting on some
strong slippers, he sallied forth to a neighboring
pear-tree, and to the music of a sing-song chant
buried the money.


On the next night the same mummery was
repeated; a second visit to the tree was made,
and to the apparent surprise and joy of the
young man, a few of the pears were found to
contain a small goldpiece in each. But the old
Gipsy refused to pluck more than a very few.
Nor did the young man insist upon it. Upon
their return to the house, the young heir seemed
much elated. But in the morning the Gipsy
pretended ignorance of the trip to the tree, even
when the young man declared that he intended
to gather together all the gold he could, so that
it might be planted at the foot of the wonderful
But the old Gipsy went into the town and,
without telling the heir, took the liberty of bor-
rowing a large amount of money on the credit
of the young man, which was very good. He
added besides, all the cash he himself had; the
young man collected all his gold from strong-
boxes and secret hoards, and that night they
buried their many bags of money in the ground.
A drowsy owl surveyed the work from a
neighboring branch and mournfully hooted his
This time the Gipsy pretended suddenly to
awake, and insisted that the younger man should
climb up and sit upon one of the horizontal
limbs of the pear-tree.
For," said he, it is the gnomes that do the
work for us, and the tread of a strange foot dis-
turbs them. Only a Gipsy's tread is light
enough to escape their quick ears The expired
connection of yours- who is now only a mem-
ory-well knew this. He always climbed the
tree, or retired a distance of forty-nine paces.
You may take your choice."
So, with a wink to the owl, who returned it
before he knew what he was doing, the heir
climbed the tree and perched himself very
uncomfortably upon a large branch.
Then the owl saw a strange sight. Now and
then the old Gipsy would quickly stop his dig-
ging, and would turn suddenly and look at the
young man in the tree. It seemed as if he
wished to catch him off his guard. But no
matter how quickly the old man turned, the
younger man was ready for him. His face
would put on an expression of blank idiocy
or of intense curiosity over the digging, and

this he would keep until the old man looked
away again, and even for a time afterward.
Then the young man would laugh slyly to him-
self. The owl could n't understand it, and as
he thought men a stupid race, he did not try
very hard to solve the mystery.
That night the old Gipsy slept very soundly.
He had lost so much sleep that he was tired
out. It was broad daylight when he came
down-stairs to seek the young man.
But the fellow-conspirator was nowhere to be
found. In vain the peddler searched the house
and the grounds.
Then an idea came to him.
He is probably uneasy about his money.
It will not worry him so much," said the retired
tramp, laughing to himself, "when I shall have
dug it up and run off with it! "
So saying, he set out for the wonderful pear-
There stood the tree -but, alas! there was
not a pear to be seen upon the branches. Some
one had plucked them all.
Then the old Gipsy ran around to where the
money had been buried. And he saw new
earth thrown up, a great hole in the ground, and
when he gazed upon the place where the money
had been hidden, he actually felt like bursting
into tears.
There stood the old Gipsy with mouth drawn
down and eyebrows raised, gazing into the hole,
until the owner of the orchard came near and
asked what he was seeking.
Did you see any one digging here ?" asked
the Gipsy.
A young man was digging here early,- at
dawn," said the man.
What for ? "
He found a buried treasure," said the owner
of the orchard.
"But -" said the Gipsy, "it was in your
land ? "
"Oh, no. He bought this acre of me before
he began to dig. I bought his house and lot
and I threw this in as a make-weight."
"But there was some of my money here! "
said the Gipsy.
Why did you put it in my land ? asked the
owner of the orchard, coolly, but received no


"Where did the young thief go ? asked the "I can not tell. He said he was to sail for
Gipsy in despair, as he thought of the foreign parts." and

i'i:hoi r .V .:rro,,cd, -in, of a .L -

l o lt III [ Ile
tl r,, he h- t ,rdo,: r ,L

' C' I' .' :" -
th,- ~~t ,:,,[,,,h!: ..ll+ -7") "


1,' "

I i


,!.Ada1 q

.v ier, 'i ,lled ,:,ur : H IItr I b t i' l.-er i
th : Ii,:,l- In: ..lug;-- niel... ;t v.-: !,:,r ,,_u. I
':0.'L]d I'I l i 1t 1. It. i t, ir 1 1 I il lit. It I .)" I .
l;'.r. in t:,,nr ; ."
T h, :,! 'l '. i i ,:. ri. t! ,: I: [i *:i,-j i 'U 's
w rit[I:n i I rll I ip -,.y !.in ,'i.-' i i n.-| :I.Ci I i. i ir
Now,"u nsaid the, L., to himsel" as C settled
r...i :* r,,[ i y. .-r l I .n- r: ir te 1 -. i i. .ie a.:, i .i .d :.i-
-lu il:'. i,:, r,..l n .i .il : l', ,, i h ,h ,- !. r.: t '"!'. .,
H -L .. (. __ n .l u l
tid n 'in o his fluffy oercoain. l" I sll b re.

.le to sleep better these bright moonlight ."
n ights. n r. i, i I I- i.-en are ...
l h ,tn i,. r.. 1,, i, I .
-Il ,r. I l 'r ;, (,=. l i l n k -i H i ,_,,1 n ,: .. -., .

Now," said the owl to himself, as he settled ,

down into his fluffy overcoat, now I shall be
able to sleep better these bright moonlight
nights. How stupid men are! "






-_;he Hunt of the-"Gar"'-

THE alligator, or "'gator," as it is usually
called throughout its home, the Southern States,
is an object of great curiosity at the North.
Every winter many tourists visit Florida and
carry back baby alligators, together with more
or less magnified accounts of the creature's do-
ings and habits, and their stories are probably
the cause of this very widespread interest.
Though the alligator is rapidly disappearing
from the banks of the lower St. John's River,
in Lake Washington and in the Saw Grass
Lake (where that river has its source), and in
waters still farther south, they are still to be
found in almost undiminished numbers, and are
hunted for a living by native hunters. They are
commonly sought at night, by torch-light, for in
this way they can be approached with the utmost
ease. The alligator is hunted in the summer
only, and the hunters usually shoot egrets, her-
ons, and other birds of beautiful plumage dur-
ing the winter months. They find a ready sale
for the bird skins, as decorations for ladies' hats.
A rifle-ball will readily penetrate an alligator's
hide, although there exists an unfounded belief
to the contrary. The creatures will stand a
deal of killing," however, and frequently roll
off a bank and are lost even after being shot
through and through.
The alligator builds a nest of mud and grass,

and lays a large number of oblong white
eggs, but the little ones when hatched often
serve as lunch for their unnatural papa, and
S this cannibalism, more than the rifle, pre-
Sie ts their numbers from increasing. The alligator
i not particular as to diet. I once found the
stomach of a ten-footer to be literally filled with
pine chips from some tree which had been felled
near the river's bank! They are fond of wal-
lowing in marshes, and many a man out snipe
shooting has taken an involuntary bath by
stumbling into their wallows. In dry seasons
alligators will traverse long distances overland
to reach water, and travelers have come sud-
denly upon alligators crawling amid prairies
or woods, in the most unexpected manner.
The alligator as a rule is very wary, but at
times sleeps quite soundly. I saw one struck
twice with an oar before it woke.
There is a very prevalent impression that the
alligator differs from the crocodile in that one
moves the upper jaw and the other the lower.
Such, however, is not the case. Both animals
move the lower jaw, though the raising of the
head as the mouth opens sometimes gives the
appearance of moving the upper jaw only. But
alligators and crocodiles differ in the arrange-
ment of the teeth, and the snout of the croco-
dile is more sharply pointed.
The hides are salted to preserve them and
are shipped to dealers in Jacksonville, where
those less than six feet long are worth a dollar,
while for those which exceed this length twenty-
five cents extra is allowed. Alligator hides
to the value of twenty thousand dollars were
shipped from Florida last year, and as the deal-
ers probably charge twice the price paid the
hunters, a fair estimate of the number of
alligators killed for sale in that State, and
not counting those shot by tourists, would be


ten thousand annually. One hears very con-
flicting reports as to the length of large alliga-
tors. A prominent dealer in Jacksonville said
that out of ten thousand hides handled by him
none were over twelve feet long. I am told that
at the Centennial, side by side with a crocodile
from the Nile, there was shown an alligator
from Florida sixteen feet in length.
Years ago near a place called Enterprise, on

canoe. A bright idea struck him. He put his
visiting-card in the beast's mouth and paddled
swiftly back. A number of hunters were at the
wharf, and the slayer of Big Ben hastened
to inform them with apparent sincerity that
while out paddling he had come within easy
range of the "'gator," who was, no doubt, still
lying motionless on the point. A flotilla of
boats and canoes, manned by an army with

-, ,. T!lRll.l' ll

,' ',',,''i,,'* 'lit .
----,Ii, .


a point jutting into Lake Monroe, during all
bright days a certain big alligator used to lie
basking in the sun. He was well known to the
whole neighborhood. The entire coterie of
sportsmen at the only hotel used to call him
"Big Ben," and proud hunters would talk, and
even dream, of the time when a well-aimed
rifle-shot would end his long career. But Big
Ben was as cunning as a serpent, and when-
ever any one, afoot or afloat, came unpleasantly
near, he would slide off into the water,-which
meant good-bye for the rest of the day.
One fine morning one of these sportsmen,
paddling up the lake, luckily with his rifle in his
canoe, came upon Big Ben so sound asleep
that he stole up within range and put a bullet
through the alligator's brain. What to do
next was a problem. He could not tow the
monster all the way to Enterprise with his small

rifles, instantly started for the point. To avoid
confusion it was unanimously agreed that all
should go down together, and that the entire
party, if they were lucky enough to find Big
Ben still there, should fire a volley at the word
of command. As they approached the point,
the hearts of all beat quickly; and when, with
straining eyes, they saw Big Ben apparently
asleep and motionless upon the bank, even the
coolest could scarcely control his feelings. The
boats were silently drawn up within easy shot,
and the word was given. Bang, bang! went a
score of rifles and Big Ben, riddled with bul-
lets, lay motionless upon the point! With a
cheer of triumph the excited sportsmen leaped
ashore, and fastening a rope around the dead
alligator, speedily towed him to Enterprise.
There the original slayer awaited them upon the
wharf. When Big Ben was laid upon the



shore, opening the animal's mighty jaws he
disclosed his visiting card, and thanked them
most politely for their kindness in bringing his
'gator home for him.
I once met with a curious adventure. Man
is rarely attacked by alligators in Florida, except
by the female alligator called upon to defend
her young. Some years ago, in a small steamer
chartered for the purpose, I had .gone up a
branch of the St. John's beyond Salt Lake until
we could proceed no farther, because the top
of the river had become solid with floating
vegetation under which the water flowed. We
tied up for the night, and shortly after were
boarded by two men who said that their camp
was near by and that they shot alligators and
plume-birds for a living. One of the men car-
ried his rifle, a muzzle-loader, and from its barrel
projected the ramrod, which had become fast
immediately above the ball while loading. He

intended to draw it out after they should return
to camp.
We went ashore with these men to look at
an alligator's nest near by, and were filling
our pockets with baby-alligators, when we
heard a grunting sound and saw an alligator
eight or nine feet long coming directly at us.
With the exception of the man already referred
to, we were all unarmed and affairs began to
look a little unpleasant, for the creature evi-
dently meant mischief. When it was within a
few feet, the man with the rifle, knowing that he
alone had a weapon, took deliberate aim and
fired bullet, ramrod, and all down the 'gator's
throat. The animal turned over twice, and
rolling off the bank, sank out of sight.
The alligators of the Amazon River in South
America are very numerous, and owing to
scarcity of hunters attain a very great size. In
the upper waters apparently they are entirely

I -
I; I I;I 1.1 I
I;Ii ij i



r I & '-& lrV

14 l:-
~~*yI -
t* 'N


unaccustomed to the report of firearms, and
if not actually hit will lie still while shot after
shot is fired. The largest I ever killed and
measured was thirteen feet and four inches in
length; but this was much smaller than many
which I shot from dugouts and canoes too far
away from shore to tow them in.
Buried an inch deep in one of these dead
alligators I once found a pirafia, that trouble-
some fish which makes swimming in some parts
of the Amazon a risky matter. It bores into
flesh very much after the manner of a circular
punch, and when it starts, its habit is to go
to the bone. The pirafia of course could not
penetrate the hide of the alligator, but entering
by the bullet-hole it had turned to one side and
partially buried itself in the flesh. I have seen
men bearing very ugly scars, the results of
wounds inflicted by the piraBa while they were
bathing. If this fish is cut open after having

bored its way into an animal a solid round
mass of flesh will be found inside correspond-
ing to the hole it has made, showing that the
fish really bores its way in.
It is said that the alligator of the Amazon is
more likely to attack man than its brother of
our Southern States. The captain of a small
steamer running between Iquitos and Para,
told me that on the preceding trip he had
carried to a doctor a boy who had lost his arm
from the bite of an alligator, while allowing his
arm to hang in the water from a raft. The
same captain, however, also informed me that
he had been treed by one of these animals and
compelled to remain up a tree" for some
time; so that I have some hesitation in quot-
ing him as an authority upon the nature and
habits of these alligators. The flesh of young
alligators is considered a delicacy in Brazil and
is regularly sold in the markets.

89go. ]


THERE was an exclusive old oyster
Who spent all his life in a cloister.
He said, For a cell
I prefer my own shell."
That very retiring old oyster.


TELL me a story," said the Pirate, sitting
up very straight in the chair he had drawn as
close as possible to mine.
"Oh dear!" said I. "Must I tell another
story ? "
"Yes," said the Pirate, firmly. "Tell me a
true one," and he wriggled farther back in the
chair, till the soles of his shoes stared at me in
the most uncompromising manner.
Once upon a time," I began, obediently,
"there was a little boy with blue eyes and yel-
low curls -
No, no," protested the Pirate; don't tell
about me, tell me a new one," and as he is a
very determined Pirate indeed, I began again.
Once when I was a little girl" -

"That 's good," nodded the Pirate, with a
sigh of satisfaction; I like them kind." For I
am sorry to admit this particular Pirate is not
always as grammatical as his friends could wish;
but I suppose few pirates are perfect.
Once, when I was a little girl, I knew a
pussy cat, a great big gray pussy cat."
"What was his name ? queried the Pirate.
"We called him Leopard, because he was so
prettily striped with black. And he lived in
the country."
I know," sagely assented the Pirate, where
it's all outdoors, like up to my grandma's."
"Yes," I said, and he used to catch little
birds, which was naughty,"- the Pirate nodded
again,- and little mice."

Did n't he catch any big ones ?" inter- close to grandpa's chair, arch up his back, and
rupted the Pirate. purr.
Yes," I replied. But I wanted to tell you One day, while he was still quite .a little
about some little ones. There were no little kitty, he brought in his sharp, white teeth a
children in the house where Leop lived, so the little dead mouse. He had caught it at the
nursery (I quailed, but the Pirate did not detect barn, and he laid it down by grandpa's chair.
the slip) "was not always upside down," and I Then he rubbed against grandpa's leg, and
glanced severely at the playthings piled in dis- patted on his foot with his paws till grandpa
order behind us. put aside his paper, looked down, and saw the
Yes," said the Pirate, with the utmost seren- mouse."

Vp, / I


ity, following my glance; "they 's my cars;
they 's had a collision."
"But there was a dear, white-haired grandpa
there," I went on resignedly, "and he used to
pat Leopard and talk to him and be very good
to him."
Did the kitty talk back? gravely inquired
the Pirate.
Yes, kitty-talk," I said. He would come

What did he do ? asked the Pirate impa-
tiently, as I stopped to rest my tongue, which
does get so tired answering questions and telling
Oh, he patted Leop and told him he was
a good kitty, and called Aunt Jeanette to see
what a great thing Leop had done, and they
both praised him till he was quite proud.
"So, after that, every time Leop caught a

i. i"r
I i


mouse he would bring it into the house, carry
it from room to room till he found grandpa and
was petted and praised for being so clever and
Well, one time grandpa went away on a

with a mouse, and then they saw that he had
not carried out the first mouse to eat it, as he
usually did, but let them both lie on the floor
by grandpa's chair."
Did n't he like 'em ? asked the Pirate.
"You will see. Grandpa patted him again

"Where did he go ? inquired the Pirate, and praised him. Then he ran off, leaving the
whose interest in details is wonderful. two mice on the floor, and grandpa and Aunt
Oh!-just away," I said desperately; for Jeanette waited to see what he would do
I knew if I told him where, I would immediately next."
have to tell him why, and whom to see, and "What did he do ?" asked the Pirate, who
how he liked it, and as many other things as is always hurrying the story.
he could think to ask about; so I hurried on. He came running back in a few minutes
"When Leop caught his next mouse he hunted with another little mouse; that made three.
all over the house for grandpa, but could not And-how many do you suppose he had kept
find him." to show to grandpa ? "
Course not," said the Pirate, scornfully. I don't know," said the Pirate, solemnly.
So at last he came to where Aunt Jeanette Nine," I said. Nine; he brought in nine
was sitting, sewing, and laid the dead mouse little dead mice and laid them down in a row
down on her dress. Then he began to purr at grandpa's feet, and grandpa petted and
and pat her foot, to call her attention to it. praised him for every single one."
When Aunt Jeanette looked down and saw "Is that all ? demanded the Pirate.
what Leop had brought her she sprang out of I nodded my head, and the Pirate knows that
her chair with a little scream," -here the Pirate means I am too tired to say another word; so
asserted his manhood by a hearty laugh,-" for he pushed himself forward, slipped from his
she was afraid of a mouse, even if it was dead. chair, and returned to his cars. But in a minute
She scolded Leop and
told him to take his horrid
little mouse out of doors."
Was it horrid?" asked
the Pirate, with interest.
But I ignored the question
and went on.
"Leop must have under-
stood that Aunt Jeanette
did not like mice, for he
did not bring in any more -
to her.
"Inaboutaweek grand- -
pa came home; he had y. M
hardly sat down in his
chair when in came Leop- 9 ___
ard with a mouse in his .. ,,
mouth, and waited to be .
petted and praised. This
made Aunt Jeanette re-
member how she had scolded the poor kitty for the short legs came trotting quickly back to my
bringing a mouse to her, and she told grandpa side, and a dimpled hand was laid on my knee.
the story. "Thank you, Mamma," said the Pirate,
"While she was talking, Leop came in again smiling.



THERE were only two little boys in the class,
Two fat little fellows with eyes of blue;
And one was Johnny, oh, listen to this,
The other was Johnny, too.

" Spell' pie,'" said the teacher, with smiling lips,
" Now, Johnny Jones, you must try."
He looked very solemn and wise and good,
And he spelled it, P-i, pie."

" Come, Johnny Smith, I will listen to you,
While Johnny Jones has his cry."
A gleam of triumph in two blue eyes,
And he straightway spelled P-y."

Together the Johnnies came out from school,
Their brave little spirits quelled;
They were wondering, wondering, wondering
What p-i and p-y spelled !



THEY were mules. Two little fellows, with
dainty feet and funny long ears. They lived in
the big stable, at the foot of the great bluff.
But, though small, they had been accustomed
to earn their own living. How? Why, by
drawing a street-car in a Western city. Briskly
they had worked, always ready, always alert.
Every night they ate their supper with all the
dignity and self-respect of other wage-earners.
When, lo one fine day came strange news.
The mules pricked up their ears. What was it
they heard? Horses and mules should be set
aside ? Men would harness the lightning," and
make it drag the cars ?
"Throw us out of employment ?" cried the
mules. "Do they flatter their foolish selves
they can do without us ? Not a bit of it. The
public demands our services. The public shall
have them Go to !"
So, what do you think those plucky fellows
did ? The electric car was ready. The man who
was "to drive the lightning "was in his place.
Suddenly "patter-patter-patter-patter,"
came the sound of eight spry hoofs.
"Here we are called the mules cheerfully.
Sure enough, here they were, in their usual
place, in front of the car. Fastened to it ? Oh,
no Why mind a trifle like that ?
"Tang! Tang! went the bell.

Off scuttled the mules.
"Tang! "
The mules came to a standstill. So did the
car. "Of course. It always stops when we
do !" said the mules, and they wagged their tails.
"Tang! Tang!"
Off they started afresh. Lively work this!
What was the stupid driver laughing at ? Was
there a stray joke anywhere?
All along the town, through the streets where
business men should attend to their own affairs,
and not stand still to look and laugh.
We know what we 're about! declared the
little mules.
Patter-patter-patter-patter! "
I believe they trotted in front of that electric
car to the very end of the route, till they reached
the place where the tall chimneys of a factory
belch forth clouds of smoke.
At last the mules may rest.
Ah ha! Ah ha! He haw! He haw!"
It was their time to laugh now.
Did n't we fell you the public should have
our services ? Drive the lightning ? Fudge !
We pulled that car! "
And a lady who lives in that very town told
me about it. She is a very ve-ra-cious person
so that I know that this story is true.



THERE were only two little boys in the class,
Two fat little fellows with eyes of blue;
And one was Johnny, oh, listen to this,
The other was Johnny, too.

" Spell' pie,'" said the teacher, with smiling lips,
" Now, Johnny Jones, you must try."
He looked very solemn and wise and good,
And he spelled it, P-i, pie."

" Come, Johnny Smith, I will listen to you,
While Johnny Jones has his cry."
A gleam of triumph in two blue eyes,
And he straightway spelled P-y."

Together the Johnnies came out from school,
Their brave little spirits quelled;
They were wondering, wondering, wondering
What p-i and p-y spelled !



THEY were mules. Two little fellows, with
dainty feet and funny long ears. They lived in
the big stable, at the foot of the great bluff.
But, though small, they had been accustomed
to earn their own living. How? Why, by
drawing a street-car in a Western city. Briskly
they had worked, always ready, always alert.
Every night they ate their supper with all the
dignity and self-respect of other wage-earners.
When, lo one fine day came strange news.
The mules pricked up their ears. What was it
they heard? Horses and mules should be set
aside ? Men would harness the lightning," and
make it drag the cars ?
"Throw us out of employment ?" cried the
mules. "Do they flatter their foolish selves
they can do without us ? Not a bit of it. The
public demands our services. The public shall
have them Go to !"
So, what do you think those plucky fellows
did ? The electric car was ready. The man who
was "to drive the lightning "was in his place.
Suddenly "patter-patter-patter-patter,"
came the sound of eight spry hoofs.
"Here we are called the mules cheerfully.
Sure enough, here they were, in their usual
place, in front of the car. Fastened to it ? Oh,
no Why mind a trifle like that ?
"Tang! Tang! went the bell.

Off scuttled the mules.
"Tang! "
The mules came to a standstill. So did the
car. "Of course. It always stops when we
do !" said the mules, and they wagged their tails.
"Tang! Tang!"
Off they started afresh. Lively work this!
What was the stupid driver laughing at ? Was
there a stray joke anywhere?
All along the town, through the streets where
business men should attend to their own affairs,
and not stand still to look and laugh.
We know what we 're about! declared the
little mules.
Patter-patter-patter-patter! "
I believe they trotted in front of that electric
car to the very end of the route, till they reached
the place where the tall chimneys of a factory
belch forth clouds of smoke.
At last the mules may rest.
Ah ha! Ah ha! He haw! He haw!"
It was their time to laugh now.
Did n't we fell you the public should have
our services ? Drive the lightning ? Fudge !
We pulled that car! "
And a lady who lives in that very town told
me about it. She is a very ve-ra-cious person
so that I know that this story is true.



EIGHTEEN years old this month! There's an
old Jack-in-the-Pulpit for you It is very strange,
and yet I can truly say I never lived at all until the
day that our dear magazine, ST. NICHOLAS,' was
born. That was a good while ago. Many boys and
girls who read the very first number now hold
upon their knees girls and boys of their own, and,
between you and me, I verily believe that every
one of them, little and big, takes about equal
pleasure and comfort in ST. NICHOLAS.
Look at the dear Little Schoolma'am and good
Deacon Green--alive, happy, young as ever, and
devoted to you all, as is your Jack himself. Eigh-
teen years old, eighteen years young-it is all the
same; this is a great country, and ST. NICHOLAS
is its prophet, so far as you, the Deacon, and the
Little Schoolma'am and the rest of us are con-
cerned. A long life to it, and to us all!
Now we '11 proceed to business, takingup, first, the
subject of
LATELY the good Deacon gave his picnic class
a riddle to guess. As far as I can remember, it
ran something like this: Find on our country's
silver dollar the following things:
An animal, a place of worship, a scholar being
whipped, a fruit, a flower, a part of a needle, and
a number of prominent actors.
Well, many of the class found some of these
things on the silver dollar, and a few found every
one of them. But there were two other things on
it that were not seen except by the very closest ob-
servers, and these were two little M's. I am told
that they are to be found on every standard silver
dollar. It appears that the man who engraved the
steel die used in making the coin was named Mor-
gan, and he shrewdly put the initial in two places
upon it, so that he might thus play hide-and-seek
with the boys and girls of his own and later genera-

tions. Of course grown folk did not need any such
reminder of Morgan. They know everything,-
more or less, so to speak.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : Papa told us such
a wonderful true story last night in our Happy
Hour (that's what we call the very little time which
papa or mamma gives to us children before we go
to sleep) that I will write it down for you to tell
everybody. It was about a pair of English spar-
rows living in Sarnia, a town of Ontario, or Can-
ada. Well, they looked at the broad town clock,
with its great big face, and they thought it was so
nice and clean that they would build their nest right
where the two hands parted and made a sort of V.
Well, they actually did it. You may think the
hands went on moving and so spoiled everything
(that is just what my brother Charley told papa);
but papa said it was n't so one bit. The clock
stopped almost as soon as these two sparrows laid
their plans, and when the man who took care of it
went up to see what had made it stop, he found
that the 'cute little birds had fastened bits of grass
and fibers about the two hands so that they could
not move It was the beginning of their nest, you
know. I hope the man let them go on and finish
it. But papa said he thought not, as town clocks
are not intended specially for sparrows. I would
have let them, if I had been that man.
Your faithful little friend, BETH G- .
HERE is a letter which I think will interest you,
and set your little necks a-craning on bright moon-
light nights:
you or any of your young folk have ever seen
"The Lady in the Moon" ? About a year ago she
was shown to
me, and since
then I have
hardly been
able to find the
"Old Man's
Face." It is
only her pro-
file you see.
The man's left
eyebrow is her
hair, or the
shading back
of it; follow
the dark out-
line of the left-
hand side of his nose, and you have her features;
the dark line of his mouth forms the shadow under
her chin. She is really beautiful, but you have to
wait until almost full moon to distinguish her.
Of course the face is not as plainly seen in the moon
as it is made in the drawing. Your loving reader,
L. S. V-

You may as well know, my friends, that your
Jack sometimes has seen the pretty lady to whom



Miss Lydia refers -not always. Like earthly ladies,
she often is shy and tries to hide her face. For my
part, however, as an honest, country Jack-in-the-
Pulpit, I incline to fancy that it is Ina whom L. S. V.
sees- Ina in her rare moments of rest; Ina whose
pretty story your Jack gave you in May last. She
is wife to the Man in the Moon. But judge for

had a banty hen, and she had some little chickens.
One day papa let her out of her coop to have
a run in the yard. While he was watching her,
the hen saw a honey-bee in the grass.
She called her little chickens to her, as if she
had something for them to eat. When they had
all answered the call, the hen ruffled up her
feathers and made a great fuss, and backed away
as if to say: "If you ever see anything that looks
like that, you do as I do,--back off and leave it
alone "
It was so cunning and sensible I thought I would
tell the rest of the little folks about it.
I am eight years old, and have had ST. NICHO-
LAS ever since I was born. KATE T--

AT last my children have found out for them-
selves the differences between red clovers and white
clovers They say that, since their special atten-
tion has been called to the pretty blossoms, all the
red clover-heads they have found are distinguished
by two or three little green leaves close at the base
of the clover-head (which, you know, is not one blos-
som, but is composed of a cluster of very small
flowers); and that every white clover-head springs
from the very end of a slender bare stem, which
has no leaf for some distance down its length, or
until it joins the main stem. The two clover-heads
differ also, they say. Nora Maynard writes: "Red
clovers are oval-shaped, and white clovers are
round"; while most of the answers say in sub-
stance: the red clover or clover-head is thicker
and more solid, with its tiny flowers crowding
closely one above another around a short, stiff,
stem-like center; while the white clover-head resem-
bles a loosely-made ball formed by the tiny white
blossoms all springing freely from the extreme end
of their stem.
All these several differences may not exist be-
tween red and white clovers in every locality, but
certainly they are found in my meadow, and in the
fields and grass plots which my young correspond-
ents have searched. Many tell me that bees seem
always to prefer the white clover to the red, that
the busy insects can more readily get at the honey
of the white clover, and that farmers who raise
bees sow the white variety on this account. Some
of the young folk speak also of often finding the
tiny caddis or case-worm on clover-heads,- funny
little fellows who always carry their houses with
them, and who take no lodgers in to bear them
company. Well, the dear Little Schoolma'am is
not by me just at this moment, so I can not say very

learned things on this subject, but I can say that I
am heartily glad whenever my out-of-door young-
sters use their eyes to see with. I '11 wager a ripe
hazel-nut, now, that thousands upon thousands of
young and old folk in these Middle States have
all their lives been seeing clover-heads growing
-white and red-and never have noticed that
the two differ in the least except in the matter of

country road last September, I saw a grasshopper
clinging to a stalk of golden-rod. He was large,
and I touched him gently to make him jump. He
did not move. I touched him again, but he was
still. Then I broke off the stalk, and he clung
to it without a motion. He was dead. So I
brought him home and drew his picture.
I was puzzled by his queer position, and could
not imagine what killed him. It seemed remark-
able that he should have been able
to jump up to this high o stalk and
hang there during his .' last ill-

ness; and it seemed stranger that he should not
have dropped down after the breath left his brown
and brittle frame. His four fore legs were clasped
around the stem; and of his long jumping-legs, one
was drawn up close to the body and the other was
stretched out as shown in the picture I send with
this. Can it be that he was in favor of the golden-
rod as the national flower, and selected this place
to draw his last breath as a proof of devotion to his


M. D. F.- Thank you for the well-deserved praise of
"Marjorie and her Papa." No one could help loving
little Marjorie nor being amused by her quaint, uncon-
scious humor. The pictures were drawn by Mr. R. B.
Birch, but in making them, as already has been stated,
he carefully followed the author's admirable sketches.

To THE EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS: Will you permit
me to ask your readers, through the Letter-box, if any
of them have spare copies of ST. NICHOLAS for Novem-
ber and December, 1875 ?
I have had ST. NICHOLAS since January, 1876, and
wish the volume complete before binding, and so desire
these two numbers. I will give fifty cents apiece for them.
523 Seymour St., Lansing, Mich.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have always taken ST.
NICHOLAS and all of our large family love to read it.
When I had scarlet-fever, mamma read to me the old
numbers which my brother, now grown up, used to take.
I want to tell you about our cats. The mothers are
named Octavia and Cleopatra. The last has three kittens
- Mary Anderson, the beauty, Adelina Patti, because of
her lovely voice, and Steve Brodie, the jumper. Octavia
has one kitten (the other three were chloroformed by a
neighbor) named Ishmael, because he is not so much of
a pet as the others. So we call him and his mother Ish-
mael and Hagar. We are about to move from our present
home and expect to have trouble taking all our cats and
our big dog. Your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought perhaps you would
like to hear an account of a trip which papa, mamhma,
myself, and one of my friends, took last March to Nagoya
and the famous shrines of Isd.
We started for Nagoya on the noon train, and arrived
about six o'clock in the evening. The fields all along
the way were yellow with brilliant flowers and looked
very pretty. The last part of the ride we had a beautiful
view of Mount Mitaki, the top of which was covered with
The next day we went to look at the Nagoya castle,
which is very interestintting. This is the way it is built.
On the very outside of the castle grounds are a large
stone and earth embankment and a moat, both of which
go all around the castle. Inside the embankment is a
large tract of land on which are the general's head-quar-
ters and the soldiers' barracks. In the center of this
tract of land is the ancient castle. Around the old castle
is another embankment and moat. In ancient times
the daimio or feudal lord occupied the old castle. The
most interesting thing about this castle is a kind of tower,
like a building, five stories high, on top of which are two
golden dolphins, one at each end of the roof. The fifth
story has a hundred mats in it and the first story has a
thousand mats in it. Each mat is six by three feet. Each

dolphin measures twelve feet, from its head to the tip of
its tail. About fifteen years ago one of the dolphins was
sent to the exposition in Vienna. Coming back, the ship
that carried it was wrecked. After some time, however,
the dolphin was recovered and put in its old place on
the castle. We did not go inside the main castle, but
looked at it from outside. I believe this castle is one of
the two finest in Japan, the other being the Kumamoto
castle. It certainly was very fine looking.
From Nagoya we went across Owari Bay to Kami-
yashiro by steamboat. From Kamiyashiro we went to
see two famous rocks in the sea near the coast. They
are very near each other and are called the Futami" by
the Japanese, who regard them as a symbol of marriage.
The large rock is called the "husband" and the small
one is called the "wife." After seeing them we went to
see the shrines of Is6 which are at Yamada. There are
two shrines and their names are Naiku and Geku."
These shrines are said to be very old, but they are really
not so very old, because half the buildings are changed
every twenty-one years. They get to be quite decayed
in that time, so they are pulled down and new ones built
in the same places and in exactly the same way. We
were most interested in the trees around the shrines. At
"Naiku" there is a beautiful grove of grand old trees
that is ever so much finer than the shrine. The cherry-
trees were in bloom and were very beautiful.
I have taken you for several years and enjoy you ever
so much. I am always very glad when you come in the
mail. Your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eight years
old, who lives in the Sandwich Islands. Back of our
house there is a long stretch of kalo patches. The kalo
is the principal food of the natives. They bake it in
ovens in the ground, then pound it to a paste with water
and allow it to sour. It is eaten with salt fish or meat.
The kalo tops are planted in dry land first, and then the
natives take it up and plant it in kalo patches. A kalo
patch is a piece of land walled in, and in the bottom are
mud and water. The kalo has one large root, with several
little ones around it. The water comes from springs,
which flow out of the side of a deep ravine, and is
brought down to the kalo patches through a water-course,
built by the natives, under direction of the chiefs. They
had stone tools, with which they dug through solid rock.
In some places they had to build a wall on which to carry
the water along. There are many beautiful springs, one
of which is very large, and goes far in under the rock.
Some of them are filled with beautiful ferns. We have
taken you four years, and are very fond of you.
Your little friend, EDITH H. B-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on the Sandwich Islands.
I am ten years old. We have taken you for four years
and like you very much. I think that you will be glad
to hear about two of our curiosities. Here is one:
About four miles northeast of us there is a large hole
down by the sea that is called the Devil's Caldron. It
is ninety feet deep. One morning some natives woke
up to find a large hole there. It is supposed that there


was a cavity under the water and that the heavy earth-
quake the night before shook the earth down. There
are two holes down at the foot of the cliff which let the sea
into it, and the waves can be seen dashing in and out.
Here is another curiosity. About seven miles to the
northwest of us is an old heathen temple. It was built
in the days of the Chiefs," and is seventy-five feet long
and twenty-five feet wide. The walls at the base are
fifteen feet broad and ten feet at the top.
Every morning the natives formed a line and passed
the stones with which it was built from one to another,
from Palolu Gulch to Honotpa, a distance of fourteen
miles. There is a hole in one corner where they threw
the bones of sacrificed victims. Just outside of it is a
large square rock, somewhat hollowed, where they used to
slay the victims. It has no roof and it is very hot there.
I would like to see my letter printed if you think that it
is good enough.
Your faithful reader, ROBERT B- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : As my little Cousin Daisy and
myself are temporarily banished from home, on account
of the illness of my Cousin Isabel, we thought this would
be a good time to write to you.
We are at a little place in the Catskills between Cairo
and Acra. The scenery here is magnificent, the different
shades of green displayed on the mountains and valleys
around us would afford endless study for an artist.
Daisy and I made a ring out of a ten-cent piece. We
found a nice bright one, and we carried it to the village
and had a little hole bored through it, and then we took
a little round file and commenced ourwork. When Daisy's
little fingers got tired (which was very soon) I took it and
worked away. The ring is very pretty indeed, now that
it is finished.
To-day it is raining hard, but as it will make the walk-
ing all the better, we must not complain.
Your constant readers, DAISY AND Vic.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your delight-
ful magazine ever since I was three or four years old. I
am now twelve and I don't think I could get along with-
out you. My favorite stories are Crowded out o' Cro-
field," "Juan and Juanita," "Little Lord Fauntleroy,"
and many others. My papa is a naval officer and has
been to China and all around the world three times, and
I was born in China, but as I was only about six months
old when we left, I don't remember anything about it.
When mamma left China she had a collection of over
five hundred teapots, but now has only about two hundred
as she has given so many away. My brother and I have
a great many curious things, picked up in different parts
of the world. We have some pieces of the leather, bits of
which were eaten by Greeley's men, given to us by Chief-
Engineer Melville, and we have a collection of over two
thousand postage stamps, and many other things. We
have two birds, a parrot and a canary; the parrot is my
brother's, it says Papa," Mamma," "Pretty Poll,"
"Look out! "and ever so much more. The canary is mine
and sings very nicely. Both are very tame; the parrot is out
most of the time, and I let Dick outin the morning when I
am dressing. I used to play "Flower Ladies," only I
called it "Flowers," and I used to make houses, and
have stones and shells covered with leaves, the beds and
chairs, and I sometimes used corn silk for the hair of the
"Ladies." I remain, your loving little reader,
N. V. W-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write you
about the Magnolia City and its lovely flowers, which are
in bloom yet. It has the one and only magnolia park on
the globe. Its trees are strung with festoons of moss al-
most reaching the ground, and covered with buds and
blooms. By it runs the beautiful Buffalo Bayou, where
fish are plentiful. Constantly passing are boats laden
with cotton and timber, also little yachts and tugs with
fishing parties. I have a good time in sunny Texas. You
can see them load cotton on the trains by the bale. Boats
and barges go down the Bayou to the bay and Galveston
Beach. You can hear the bells of the trains and of the
little one-mule street-car. I was born in Texas and like
my home. I am eleven years old. My favorite story in
your magazine is Crowded out o' Crofield."
Your reader, TOM B- .

DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder if anyone enjoys
you as much as I do, and if you have ever traveled about
with any one as you have with me?
I am a little English girl, nearly fifteen years old. I
live with an uncle and my governess. I have never been
to school in my life, and although my home is in Dev-
onshire, England, I am always making journeys. If it
did not take up so much space, I would like to tell you
about some of the things I have seen in Europe, Amer-
ica, and Asia.
This summer I have been traveling in Europe and
have seen the Passion Play at Ober Ammergau, and the
Midnight Sun, and many, many interesting things.
My health is very delicate, so I can not study much,
but as my governess travels with me, I have a very good
time. She is lovely and I am very fond of her. She has
taught me for nearly ten years.
I have a beautiful horse at home, called Duke. Lady
Jane,"" Sara Crewe," Lord Fauntleroy," and your many
short stories are delightful. The only fault I know is that
they are all too short. Believe me,
One of your most loving readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl seven years
old and live in Milwaukee.
I have been to the Atlantic Ocean.
I had a little boat and I used to sail it on the water.
Every day I went in bathing. 'Most every day I went
to the beach to gather shells. One day I found a very
smooth stone, which is in my red dress pocket.
Now I have come to grandmother's.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old and have
taken your magazine for about three years, and have en-
joyed it very much. I have seen many amusing things
in it, so I thought I would add to them.
I have such a dear, fat, cunning little piebald pony,
called "Pie." He has lately taken a great taste for
chrysanthemums. We have a fence dividing the horse
paddock from our garden and, because the gate was
broken, we put up a rail about three feet five inches
high. Mother had been saving her white chrysanthe-
mums to make a wedding nosegay, but on the day she
came to gather them she found them all gone. Next
morning Lena (our servant) saw something jump right
out of the flowers, and Pie was racing across the lawn
and under the rail before one could say Hullo! Now,
was n't he cunning?
This is the first letter I have written, so I hope you will
print it. ELEANOR S. B-- .


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am spending the summer
at South West Harbor, which is a little village on the
island of Mt. Desert. It is a beautiful place, and I am
having afine time, and I have been to several places on
the island. The other day my sister and I went on
board the training ship St. Mary's, which is stationed in
the harbor. We went all over it and it was very inter-
esting. The ship is forty-four years old, but ithas been
painted all up so that you would not know that except for
the fact that it is very old-fashioned.
I have only taken ST. NICHOLAS for this year but I like
you ever so much. I do not know yet whether I am
going to take you next year, but I hope so, and expect to.
My favorite stories are "Lady Jane" and May Bart-
lett's Stepmother." EMELINE N. H-- .

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : We have been wanting to
write to you for a long time, but could never think what
to say, so we thought we would write and tell you about
our place. We live on a beautiful farm in Virginia named
Groveland. We have eleven horses, twelve cows, two
hunting-dogs, besides a Newfoundland, and a dear little
pug named Flora. We have a grand doll house, and we
ave each three dolls. We have a pony carriage and two
Shetland ponies named Donald and Dorothy. Our little
brother, Robbie, also has a pony, named Baby Mine, and
we go riding every morning before breakfast. Your de-
voted readers, FLORENCE AND HELEN L--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: About a year ago, papa,
mamma, and I went to Europe; and although that is any-
thing but unusual, I think it was a little queer to get
ready in four days as we did; but we had a lovely time
over there, just the same.
While at Paris we went to the Hippodrome, and that
night they had scenes of Russian life. At one time
when a number of soldiers rushed in on foot, the cap-
tain's horse rode over two of them, or rather bumped
against them, threw them over and jumped over them.
But they got up and limped off.
Papa, mamma, and I kept a diary; but papa's and
mamma's were like those spoken of by Mark Twain in
" Innocents Abroad." Mine was successful, for I never
missed a day, except the day we landed at New York.
Hoping you will prosper for many years to come, I
remain, Yours sincerely,
THEO. K--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for two years.
I want to tell you about Japanese New Year's celebrations
and decorations. The rich people have three bamboo
sticks on each side of their house. The next class have
a cone-shaped piece of straw, a lobster, a stick of
dried persimmons, and a piece of charcoal. The poorer
people have a branch of pine or a cone-shaped piece of
straw with a little bit of fern under it. About December

26th the people begin to get ready for New Year's
day. Most people get "mochi" (pronounced motchee)
made. There are people who go from house to house
and make it.
They carry a fire and some rice. First they boil the
rice, then they take it out and put it in a kind of mortar,
made out of a log of wood with a hole in it. Then one
man pounds and the other one pushes the rice into posi-
tion. New Year's lasts three days.
Yours respectfully, W. J. H-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years
old, and have taken you for some years, and like you
very much. I have been up in the Catskill Mountains.
I did not like it; it was too quiet. I like my own home
better. I took lots of nice walks up the mountains.
On Fourth of July, I had a jolly time; we could not fire
off our fire-crackers before breakfast. We had a few
showers during the day. I had so many fire-crackers
that I had to give them away. One daymy brother and
I went fishing; he would not let me fish, but after a
while I got him to let me. He said, What is the use
of your fishing ? You won't catch anything!" I caught
three trout, and my brother only caught one little shiner.
I remain, yours truly, EDITH.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I want to tell you about a pet
pigeon we have. We have had it four years now. Ever
since we got it, it has always come around whenever any
one played on the piano; if we opened the window it
would fly in and alight on the piano and strut up and
down and coo. I think it is very funny for it to be so
fond of music. This spring it laid three eggs and went
to setting on them; it set on them for two or three
weeks, but they did not hatch. Setting seemed to make
it wild, and it very seldom comes in the house now. We
got two squabs not long ago, but the old pigeon does
not stay with them at all. Although it would come in
the house it was hard to catch, and my youngest brother
used to sing to it and catch it.
As this is getting right long I will stop, hoping to see
it printed. Very truly yours, "McGINTY."

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them : Gertrude A. E.,
Edith R.,Alice and Julia C., Garret A. R., Mabel E. D.,
Dorothy B., Meg and Peg, Rhoda and Alice S., Olive
R., May T. H., Grace A. T., J. W. R., L. L., Flossie W.,
Blanche W., Pattie J. B., Atta A. B., Allie J. S., Stanley
R. A., Zoe S., Sallie L., Louise B., Catherine H. H.,
Bertha C. and Josephine D., "Children of the Moon,"
W. J. A., Carita A., Anne L., Bertha V. S., May T.,
Walter S. D., Eleanor S. B., Helen S. F.,Adelaide T. M.,
W. Scott B., Florence and Helen L., Fannie and Edith
T., Grace H., McGinty," George S. S., Lola K., Carrie
N., Mamie H., Irene B., Ailsie L., Lois P., Marie, de F.,
Edith M. A., Theo. K., Lizzie L. and Mamie McP., M.
G. F., Louise C., Alice L., Emeline N. H.,Theodora G.,
Hebe B. C., Grace L. E.



HALF-SQUARES. I. I. Trafalgar. 2. Revenues. 3. Avarice.
4. Ferule. 5. Anile. 6. Luce. 7. Gee. 8. As. 9. R. II. I. Worces-
ter. 2. Overload. 3. Regally. 4. Craved. 5. Ellen. 6. Sold. 7. Tay.
8. Ed. 9. R.
ANAGRAM. Rustle, ulster, lustre, lurest, sutler, luters, rulest, result.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "For hunger gives not such a taste to the
viands, nor thirst such a flavor to the wine, as the presence of a
beloved guest."
DIAMOND. I.E. 2. Alb. 3. Elbow. 4. Bog. 5. W.
GRANDMOTHER's GARDEN. I. Rosemary. 2. Rue. 3. Heart's
ease. 4. Hyacinth. 5. Loveage. 6. Sweetbriar. 7. Hawthorne.
8. Columbine. 9. Jerusalem cherry. so. Lilac. or. Rose. 12 Flag.
13. Snowdrops. 14. Sweet peas. 15. Elder. r6. Quince. 17. Penny-
royal. 18. Fennel. 09. Madder. 20o. Iris. 21. Violet. 22. Catnip.
23. Periwinkle.
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. ThomasEdison. Cross-words: I. Twelve.
2. Shreds. 3. Anoint. 4. Gasmen. 5. Dogmas. 6. Novels.
HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Addison. Cross-words: I. Treason.
2. Elder. 3. Ida. 4. I. 5. Asp. 6. Aloes. 7. Stentor.

ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE. From I to 9, Cervantes; from to to 2o,
Shakespeare. Cross-words: I. Tripod. 2. Basket. 3. Chains.
4. Osprey. 5. Eagles. 6. Vipers.
PI. Oh, loosely swings the purpling vine,
The yellow maples flame before,
The golden-tawny ash trees stand
Hard-by our cottage door;
October glows on every cheek,
October shines in every eye,
While up the hill, and down the dale,
Her crimson banners fly. ELAINE GOODALE.
DOUBLE PRIMAL ACROSTIC. First row, Woods of Maine; second
row, Autumn Leaves. Cross-words; i. Waver. 2. Ounce. 3. Otter.
4. Dupes. 5. Smack. 6. Onset. 7. Flint. 8. Medal. 9. Aaron.
o1. Ivory. Ia. Nerve. 12. Essay.
WORD-SQUARES. I. Mavis. 2. Apode. 3. Vowel. 4. Ideal.
5. Sells. II. 1. Nidus. 2. Irate. 3. Dante. 4. Utter. 5. Seers.
III. x. Burst. 2. Unite. 3. Ripen. 4. Steed. 5. Tends.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August i5th, from "May and 79"-Josephine
Sherwood-Mamma and Jamie-Benedick and Beatrice-Edith Sewall--John W. Frothingham, Jr.-E. M. G.-Mamma, Aunt
Martha, and Sharley-Pearl F. Stevens-Sandyside-Jo and I-Ida C. Thallon-Adele Walton.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August i5th, from J. McClees, x-C. Lamer, x-Elaine
Shirley, 2- M. E. Gordon, Louise and Max H., Sweet Clover, Fern, and Peach Blossom, Little Sis and B., Toddie, 3-
Essie and Madge, 3 Katie Van Zandt, 5- Mrs. James Marlor, 2- W. B. Watkins, i M. U. Bingay, I Rosalind, I Florence and
Nina, Nettle G. Colburn, 3- N. R. Shorthill, Blanche W., Gracchus, 12- Corradino Lanza, 3 -No name, Phila., 3- Effie
K. Talboys, 8- Kitty and Pussy, i Mattie and Bessie, 7- Ada E. M. and Gussie A. C., I -Papa and Lily, I Mamma and Lydia, i -
Astley P. C., Sallie W., and Anna W. Ashhurst, 9 -" Quartette," x -" Cat and Dog," Hattie and Carrie, --Arthur B. Lawrence, 6 -
Charlie R. Adams, 7-Nellie L. Howes, Ia-Anna T. Buckley, i-Hubert L. Bingay, 12-Isabel G., 9-Lizzie Hunter, 4-No
name, Lansing, Iowa, 2- L. Fowler, 3-" Two Dromios," ni-Lisa D. Bloodgood, 4-Mabel and Lillie, 2--Charles L. Adams, 3-
"Squire," 9 -" Oleander," i -" H. P. H. S.," 7 M. Harrell, I Clara and Emma, 5 Mamma and Walter, 6- Cornelia S. Camp-
bell, x C. and Estelle Ions, 2 Honora Swartz, 3-Alice K. Huey, o F. Oppenheimer, Kathie, Grace, and Annie, 2-Jenme
S. Liebmann, 8 -Nellie and Reggie, Ii M. D. and C. M., 9- Grace and Isabel Livingston, 8 -" Infantry," io- Ida and Alice, as -
"Charles Beaufort, 7- M. P. T., 3.


ACROSS: I. A shelter. 2. Abodes. 3. Obscurity. 4. A
multitude. 5. A musical composition.
DOWNWARD: I. In hatchet. 2. An exclamation. 3. A
prefix to some German names. 4. To discharge. 5. An
African. 6. A warehouse. 7. Part of the foot. 8. One
half a word meaning to supplicate. 9. In hatchet.
H. H. D.

I. I. IN hedges. 2. An African cape projecting into
the Mediterranean. 3. A heavenly body. 4. Thorough-
wort. 5. The home of a family. 6. Building and occu-
pying a nest. 7. The years beginning with thirteen and
ending with nineteen. 8. A game. 9. In hedges.
II. I. In hedges. 2. To fortify. 3. To gather after
a reaper. 4. A country in the northern part of Africa.
5. Salutations. 6. A small city of Brazil. 7. A sim-
pleton. 8. A Turkish commander. 9. In hedges.
The fifth word of each of the foregoing diamonds,
when read in connection, will spell what makes Thanks-
giving Day most enjoyable. F. S. F.

I 5 9 13
2 6 Io 14
3 7 11 15
4 .8 12 16
FROM I to 5, a tribunal; from 2 to 6, a large bird;
from 3 to 7, a useful conjunction; from 4 to 8, the human
race; from 9 to 13, to acquire; from 10 to 14, tardy;
from II to 15, a Latin prefix; from 12 to 16, epoch; from

I to 13, a contract; from 2 to 14, to rival; from 3 to 15,
a musical term;.from 4 to 16, a command; from I to 4,
to shine; from 9 to 12, joyful. F. A. W.

DEEP within the cloister cell,
Robed in brown or gray,
There myfirst in quiet dwell,-
Study, serve, or pray.
My last is by the children worn;
Verses, too, I 've made;
Strangest of all things beside,
Ladies like my shade.
Tell me what my whole may be;
Surely you 've the power,
You have often gathered me,
I am just-a flower. MARY D. N.

THE cross-words are of unequal length. When rightly
guessed, and placed one below another, in the order here
given, the central row of letters, reading downward, will
spell the name of a-famous queen.
CROSS-WORDS: I. The name by which two brothers,
famous in Roman history, are called. 2. A renowned
Scottish hero and patriot. 3. The name of a Russian
empress. 4. A noted queen of Palmyra. 5. The owner
of the famous estate of Malmaison. 6. The Sultan of
Egypt to whom Jerusalem surrendered in 1187. 7. The
wife of Louis XVI. of France. 8. A name borne by
many kings of Sweden. 9. The Roman Emperor during
whose reign Jerusalem was conquered by Titus.


EACH of the nine pictures in the above illustration 4 4 .
(excepting the third) miy be described by a word of nine
letters. When these are rightly guessed and placed one
below the other; in the order hief given, the letters from
Sto 6 as indicated in acor ng dm ill aquatic animal,- 6.;Take torn asunder from models, and
leave beyond.
spell the name of agrcat militarv naJi.a i o leaatvue ; beyond. .. .... ..
spell the name of.a grea mlitar. now ion oi antqu 1 ; When the six four-letter words (represented by stars)
nrom 7 to 15, her citrmy. o. as bor, and for whom3,he was amed D.YCIE.
from 24 to 3, and from 3 to1 tO, 231et-cca; have been rightly guessed and placed one below another
which her citizens were divid34 37 thr 3S 14i5, di, nam intlie oider here given, the first row of letters will spell
of a ruler to whom she Owed;much fr 1" her t5grear t i; the name of a famous nian, born in November, over four
from 46 to 55, a powerful and cry famou; try that -'he huiidrdd: years ago,w.-hom Heine called "not.only the
humbled; fom 52 to 5P6, avery-w'i e man who was a" tongue, buit the sword, of his time." The third row of
native of that city. .. M letters will' spell the name of the'saint oh whose day he
Swag born, and for whom.he was named. D.YCIE.


.* -
EXAMPLE : Take a manner of walking from to assuage,
and leave an article. Answer, mitigate; gait,'item.-
CROSS-WORDS: I. Take a member from exalted aloft,
and leave utility. 2. Take a range of mountains from a
summons to arms, and leave a parent. 3.- Take to weary
from consisting of verses; and leave unruffled. 4. Take
to have a great aversion to from plumes, and leave a
slave. 5. Take a heroic poem from chief, and leave an

SAi anneyo nese a stol semmur,
Radytes, lontse, ro writhesoe nego,
Strif sidems hewn eth sleeva fo-beteinspre
Nedtru, edwosh su a forts-vanger wand?
Dan wno hes hsa hendid ni criflo
Henbeat eht wol-lingy, gribth eslave.
Sah nanyeo nees a slot rusemm
Faidle thiw het dadben cron-saveseh ?
I. I. A shrub, the leaves of which are used in making
tea. 2. The American'aloe. 3. Becomes dim. 4. Ap-
parent. 5. Abodes.
: II. I. Fomentation. 2. A city of Italy.- :3 Pushed.
4. A portion. 5. Concluded.
: I III.: Responsibilities. 2. Active. 3. To be matured.
4. Makes level. 5. Judgment. G. F.. AND CLOVER.


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