Front Cover
 Caesar and Pompey
 The fortunes of Toby Trafford
 Huz and Buz
 Elfie's visit to cloudland and...
 The turtle and the katydid
 What and where?
 My autograph-book
 The investigating committee...
 The boy settlers
 Out of childhood
 Rhoda's visit
 A polar bear for a jailer
 An opinion
 The alligators' funeral
 Cause and effect
 The midnight sun
 Bobby's Christmas dream
 A little girl's diary in the...
 His profession
 Pauline and the policeman
 Alphabet song
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00238
 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: VID00238
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    Caesar and Pompey
        Page 331
    The fortunes of Toby Trafford
        Page 332
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
    Huz and Buz
        Page 343
    Elfie's visit to cloudland and the moon
        Page 344
        Page 345
        Page 346
        Page 347
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
    The turtle and the katydid
        Page 351
    What and where?
        Page 351
    My autograph-book
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
    The investigating committee (illustration)
        Page 360
    The boy settlers
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
    Out of childhood
        Page 369
    Rhoda's visit
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
    A polar bear for a jailer
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
    An opinion
        Page 379
    The alligators' funeral
        Page 380
        Page 381
    Cause and effect
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
    The midnight sun
        Page 385
        Page 386
    Bobby's Christmas dream
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
    A little girl's diary in the east
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
        Page 395
        Page 396
    His profession
        Page 397
    Pauline and the policeman
        Page 398
        Page 399
        Page 400
    Alphabet song
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 403
    The letter-box
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
    The riddle-box
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



VOL. XVIII. MARCH, 189.. .' N .5..

SCop rii,,i 189g, by THE CENTuRY Co. Allrights reserved.


B TiDORnr- ENKS. : .

PLUMP little puppies of high degree;. found aileep in the moving sui,
Dreaming away as cosily as 'if 'er-i\\iried b -work well done,-
Toothless bitings and finy gri\-i:, toddimg walks of a yard at a time
Tire them out til! they\ sleep like'.owls,-what have they done to deserve a rhyme?
Here may be valor and patience, o. 6 TT1. W i c].n tell as they lie asleep
Doughty deeds they may some day do Faidlifl vigils they yet maykeep.

Perhaps they 've quarreled-and will not speak-till they 've forgotten tle caused of strife.
':Pompey's ear may have had a tweak he '11 "nof forgive in all his life!"
But when they wake, no doubt you '11 find they '11 play as lovingly as before;
"Out of sight is out o.t mind," tili they 've had a tiff once more.
.Snug little velvet coats, doze a .way, undisturbed by hopes or fears,
You have only to romp and play not for you are the long school-years .

Geography is not so hard- when it means the place for a bone or two,
The shadiest corer of the yard, or the broken slat where you scramble through.
Reading,- the smile on your master's face, the language of pats and kindly praise.
Spelling,--the words that mean disgrace, or the mild reproof of his warning gaze.
Arithmetic,- of sugar lumps; Vocal Music, in whines and barks;
Dancing Lessons in runs and jumps, or breathless scampers in sunny parks. -

Your course of study is short and clear. The heartier praise is therefore due:
That in the space of a single year you learn full faith and devotion true.
Brag is good, but Holdfast better." Which you may be, 't is hard to tell.
\\a tchdog, pointer, hound, or setter, learn your work and do it well!
'Sleep well, Cesar! Pompey, slumber! Through your minds may visions pass
Of blue ribbons-" without number, countless medals, all first class!



[Begwn in te November number.] her what was at that very moment in his jacket
CHAPTER XVI"I can't conceive of any honest way of our ever
TOBY'S SECRET. getting money from Mr. Tazwell except openly,
with his consent," Mrs. Trafford replied, "or by
TOBY TRAFFORD had but few secrets that lhis process of law, to which I shall not resort."
mother and Mildred did not share. And he had Toby dropped his eyes, somewhat di-i-on-
now a burning one, of which impulse and habit certed by this turn in the conversation. But
alike made him long to unburden himself in their he looked up again quickly to tell the comical
sympathizing presence. But would it be wise to sequel, acting, in lively pantomime of face and
tell them at once of his finding the bank-note, 'gertdare, Tom's dismay on discovering his loss
and consult them with regard to the use he of the identical bank-note.
proposed to make of it? Mildred laughed. The time'had been, not
Of course he would tell them when the whole long before, when Toby delighted to twit his
thingwas settled,but inthe mean time te secrett sister, boy-fashion, with her 7,irrilit) for Tom
might be an unpleasant one for tlihin to keep. Tazwell. But all that was past.
His mother was scrupulously sensitive as to all "Now, if you had only found it," said she,
moral obligations; it would be sure to prove a "the retribution-would have been complete! "
source of trouble to her, and she might not ap- Toby felt her eyes. fixed on him as she said
prove of his conduct. Perhaps this last was, this, and dropped his own again. .
after all, the main consideration that ca.i-ed him ** It might be some trouble to know just what
to hold in reserve the most important incident, to di-i with it," he replied.
in giving an account at the supper-table of the It would n't trouble, me Mildred declared.
day's doings. Just let me have the handling of a little of the
He went so far as to repeat the conversation money Mr. Tazwell owes us, and I would show
between Tom and Mr. Tazwell which he had you. There are so many things we need! "
overheard, and to. call out an opinion from his Again Toby looked up,, and their eyes met
mother by saying: across the table. She spoke jestingly, but he
"I just wanted to rush in and grab that wondered whether she might not be more than
twenty dollars which he refused to me, but -half in earnest:

which Tom got from him so easily by a little
teasing and a promise he will break next week.
I felt I had the better right to it."
A right to it or none, my son," said the
widow, I trust you will never use such means
to possess yourself of money even if you think
it belongs to you."
"Of course I would n't do such a thing as
that," said Toby; "but if I could have got hold
'of it in any quiet, honest way- He hesitated,
looking across the table into his mother's ten-
der, serious face, and wishing he dared to tell

After supper he went out to give some finish-
ing touches to his boat, which he was painting
in the barn. Through the open door the glow
of the western sky shone in upon him from over
the lake. He was working with his back to it in
a brown frock that covered him to his knees,
when a diffused shadow glided across the floor.
"Hello he said, scarcely looking up from
the name on the stern -MILLY which he
was carefully going over with his fine brush.
"If I could n't do those letters better than
that," said Mildred, in her old. teasing way, I

would get somebody else to do them for me, or stood off a little way to criticize his work. "Do
I'd paint them out altogether. I don't know you think they look very bad? I could n't,
that I care to have a boat named after me." of course, have done them originally, but I
But you did care; you were pleased enough flattered myself I could 'go over them without
when it came home with your name on it," said making a very bad botch."
Toby. It 's no botch at all," said Milly. "They
"That's so," she replied. But it was more look very well, indeed. I was only joking.
I 'm afraid you won't have
much time to use the boat
this year, Toby."
"I think I '11 find the
S time to take you out now
S and then, in the evening.
-''a Or I '11 lend it to Mr.
SAllerton, and let him take
Syou out," he said, with a
mischievous smile. "You
will like that better."
"Oh, Toby! Now, can't
you joke me about some-
body who is n't almost
___ twice as old as I am, and
who does n't wear his
hair in a little knot on
the top of his bald crown ?
I wish you would! I '11
give you the names of
two or three persons, if
you are too dull to think
I of any; I'll do all I can
to help you out. You
seem quite lost," she went
on with charming mock
seriousness, "since you
gave over trying to plague
me about Tonr Tazwell."
S" Let me hear nobody
mention his name with
yours !" said Toby. But
was n't it funny, his losing
the money?"
And, laying down his
because you thought enough of me to give it acted the scene at the parsonage gate.
my name, than for any honor there might be in "See here, Toby !" Mildred said in a low
it. I should n't ever know you cared for me, voice, "what ever became of that money,-do
if it was n't, once in a while, for some such you know? "
*thing as that." "Why do you ask that question? Toby
Perhaps it 's only once in a while' I do care quickly resumed his brush, regretting that he
for you," said Toby, with a gentle laugh. He had again brought up the perilous subject.


I don't know; there was something in your
face, when we were talking at the table, that I
could n't quite understand. I thought perhaps
you knew more than you chose to tell." --
Toby regarded her.inquiringly. "And were
you in earnest in what you said ? "
"About what I would do with any of the
Tazwell money? Of course I was!"
Milly! he said excitedly, "I 've been dying
to tell somebody, and I '11 tell you. I picked up
that money in Mr. Tazwell's office; and I have
it here in my pocket!" pointing to his coat,
which was hanging from a beam in the barn.
Oh, Toby! she exclaimed, with frightened
surprise. "How could you ?"
"Why, what did you say you would do your-
self?" cried'Toby.
Did I say I would keep money I found in
that way? : If I did, I could n't have meant it.
You know how it is.' One likes to talk, and tell
what one would do, in certain cases. But a
thing may look very different when it actually
Toby broke out impatiently: "I never saw
anything so unreasonable and inconsistent as a
girl can be, when she tries!"
Mildred did not attempt to defend herself.
"What will you do with it ? she asked, gently.
Toby told his plan, and defied her to raise
any valid objection to it.
"It. is, of course, the best thing," she said,
"provided but the truth is, Toby--I don't
know! I 'm sorry'you told me! "
"Then why did you come out here on pur-
pose to pump me:?" he demanded, throwing
down his- brush with vexation. "That is n't
treating a fellow fairly; now, is it ?"
Perhaps not," Milly replied, with true and
tender sisterly solicitude. And I 'm not going
to'find fault with you, nor betray your secret.
Only I would n't have you do anything that
mother would think was wrong. I wish you
could talk about it with somebody who is wiser
than I."
"So do I; but who is there I can go to with
a thing of this kind ?" said Toby. "Mother
is n't very wise in worldly matters; you know
that she would be sure to advise me to do what
is against her interest and ours- mine particu-
larly. I tell you, it makes me tired to think of

working to earn all that money to pay Mr.
Brunswick, when I have it right here in my
.possession, out of the pocket of the man who
really ought to pay it."
"Well! said Mildred, I can't blame you.
And I 'm not going to oppose you. But I want
you to consider all the consequences, whatever
you do."
S"I have considered," said Toby doggedly,
returning to his work. "I 've made up my
mind, and I don't think I '11 change it. I 'm
going right over to pay that bill to Mr. Bruns-
wick, soon as ever I have finished the leg of
this Y."



THE sunset light had nearly gone from the
sky, but the crescent moon was shining low
over thelake, its broken image reflected" like a
golden goblet falling and sinking in the fluctua-
tions that a rocking boat sent shoreward, when
Toby walked thoughtfully along the solitary
path toward the ice-man's cottage.
A grayish mist hung over the borders of the
lake, mingling with the moonlight that faintly
silvered banks and trees and bushes. Sounds
ofl voices from the boat, made musical by the
silence and distance, were wafted across the
water. The air was refreshingly cool and moist;
the stars were brightening in the dark vault,
while two or three of the largest flitted like fire-
flies in the molten depths of the lake; just the
night, it seemed, to enjoy a lonely walk.
But Toby, it is to be feared, was not enjoying
it very much. The trouble in his heart, which
had come to him with the finding of the money,
and which he had so resolutely endeavored to
dismiss, returned with a strength that increased
with every step he took toward Mr. Brunswick's
house. He had almost reached the door-he
had the money in his hand -when his heart
failed him, and he turned back.
Before he had got half-way home, however,
he paused, and, standing on the shore, called up
his original determination. -
"There 's no use making a dolt of myself
over this thing," he muttered half aloud. "It's



as plain as day. I am going to pay this money Mr. Allerton was amazed that Mr. Tazwell
to Mr. Brunswick." should have refused to pay for the scow.
And yet he did not stir. Perhaps because, "Let's look this thing carefully over, Tobias.
just then, he heard a __
sound of footsteps, and
perceived the figure of
a man approaching.
He waited for him
to pass. But the man,
looking intently at him,
:stopped so near that
Toby could smell a
pink in his coat-front.
"Good-evening, Mr.
Allerton," said the boy.
Tobias ? I thought
that I recognized you,"
said the schoolmaster.
" You seem to be in
a brown study; much
as you were that day
when I found you look-
ing up at the old sign."
I am in the brown-
est kind of a brown
study!" Toby frankly
"Anything new ?
Anything you would
care to tell me?"
And the teacher laid
a sympathizing hand
on the boy's shoulder.
I should like to tell
you, if you would like
to hear," said Toby
impulsively; "for I am
puzzled "
"Perhaps I can help
you untie the knot;
let 's see."
Thus encouraged,
Toby told the history of
the twenty-dollar note,
and frankly asked for
"It seems perfectly right for me to keep it What seems right at first sight, is not always
and pay it to Mr. Brunswick," he said as he best. When you give Mr. Brunswick the money,
ended his story, and yet I don't know,- some- shall you tell him how you came by it ? For
how I can't feel quite satisfied." that will be the fair thing, so far as he is con-


cerned. If he receives money which you have
come by in that way, he ought to know it."
"I suppose so," replied Toby; "I rather
thought I should tell him."
"That will- be comparatively easy," said Mr.
Allerton. The test of your strength will come
when you meet Mr. Tazwell. Don't you think
you ought to be just as frank with him as with
Mr. Brunswick?"
"I don't know," said Toby. "I meant to
own up if I was accused of taking the money.
I would n't lie about it."
No, you could n't afford to do that. But it
will be pretty hard for you to step up to him
and say frankly that you have taken the matter
of doing justice to Mr. Brunswick into your own
hands. You don't wish the slightest suspicion of
underhand dealing to attach to a matter of this
"I think you are right," said Toby; "and I
should n't wonder if that was the secret of the
misgivings I could n't get rid of."
"Very likely," said Mr. Allerton. It would
be very hard for you to pursue a course of de-
ception; you are a truthful boy, and you require
a consciousness of truth to make you happy.
Suppose. you had seen that money lying in Mr.
Tazwell's drawer, would you have felt justified
in taking it ? "
Oh, dear, no !" exclaimed Toby; that
would have been too much like stealing."
"But finding it on the floor, where it had
been accidentally dropped and knowing per-
fectly well, as you do, who dropped it-Is there,
after all, much difference between the two
I don't know as there is."
"Say, 'I don't know that there is.'" Mr.
Allerton could n't forget that he was a school-
master. "And here 's another thing," he went
on. Is n't it a little dangerous for us to take
into our own hands questions of right and wrong
that concern us personally, and settle them to
suit ourselves ? Suppose everybody should as-
sume to do that--it would make the world seem
a little more ragged about the edges than it does
now; don't you think so ?"
"There 's enough of that sort of thing going
on already," said Tobias, a little grimly, and
we have to suffer from it."

Is n't it better to suffer some injury than to
adopt that principle ourselves? The point is
this," Mr. Allerton continued, lifting his hat with
one hand, and putting up the other under it for
a little pat, there in the pale gleam of the set-
ting moon. "You expect to have to pay for
the burnt boat, if Mr. Tazwell does n't. Don't
you think you would feel better, on the whole,
to work hard and earn the money, than to come
by it in this way ?"
"If I knew how to earn it said Tobias
"You are young; don't be downhearted;
ways will open to a willing boy like you," said
the master cheerily. "Be brave and straight-
forward, and don't shirk. We are all tempted
at times to do things not exactly wrong in them-
selves, but which require a little covering up,"
he went on, like one speaking from experience
and conviction. "For my part, I find they
don't pay. An advantage gained by the slight-
est crookedness leaves such a sting in a sensi-
tive nature! But I am not going to preach to
you. There is one thing, however, I would
earnestly advise. A boy of your age, with such
a mother as you are blessed with, should always
think twice before doing a thing of which she
might disapprove."
." I believe you exclaimed Toby.
They walked along the shore together, not in
the direction of the ice-man's house.
Now, I wish you could tell me what to do
about staying in the store," Tbby said, after a
minute's silence. She leaves it all to me. I am
just made a drudge of; that's all. If I had only
myself to think of, I would n't remain there
another day. But she can't afford to lose even
the small wages I earn. And now, to have to
pay that money to Mr. Brunswick! It will be
a very large piece of humble pie for me to eat,
if I have to submit, and black Tom Tazwell's
"If I were in your place, I think I should
submit to almost anything but a loss of self-

respect," replied the master, "rather than throw
up my chance of eventually working into a good
That's just it! said Toby. "I could go
to the city every morning, and black boots all
day at the railroad station, if necessary, with-




out losing as much self-respect as it would cost
me to black Tom's! "
"Is n't there a little prejudice in that ?"
"Perhaps. But I '11 tell you. My position
in the store is--or should be-the same as
Tom's. He has no more right to require me
to black his boots than I have to ask him
to black mine."
But he is your employer's son."
"Yes; and that is just what he presumes
upon," said Toby. "It was always understood
that he and I were to go in on equal terms.
To be sure, that was before the failure. But
even after that, Mr. Tazwell promised my
mother that he would do all in his power to
prevent its making any difference in my pros-
pects. Now see how it is. He has got every-
thing into his own hands, and our interest in
the business has dwindled down to nothing.
To save her little bit of property from going to
pay his debts, she consented to be considered
as a creditor of the firm, instead of a partner;
and signed an agreement to accept thirty cents
on the dollar for what little he admits that he
owes, after turning over to her some worthless
bonds and a mortgage that is n't much better."
"It seems a hard case," said the school-
"It is. wicked! Toby exclaimed, with ris-
ing passion in his voice. "A woman like iny
mother! Now, as for the business, I am not
sure it will ever be worth while for me to
work up in it, even if I can. Why, when my
father was alive, ladies used to come from a
long distance, even from the city, to trade with
him, and get him to order their silks. Now
people pass the store every day, to go and
buy their goods in the city. That 's a sam-
ple of the way things are going. Oh, I was
a great dunce! said Toby bitterly, "ever to
put any more faith in Tatwell or the business
when I knew what I did!"
But you have n't made a very great sacri-
fice by going into the store, even if you step
out of it now," Mr. Allerton suggested.
"Whatever happens, a boy like you should
have faith in his own future. Be ready to
take advantage of whatever comes to your
hand, and I have no doubt you will find
means of getting a living, perhaps in some

wholly unlooked-for way. We hope and plan,
but it is usually the unexpected that happens.
Is that boat going to land?"
"Yes; it's Yellow Jacket's boat. He hauls
it up under this willow," replied Toby.
"I spoke to him, a day or two ago, about
keeping boats to let," said Mr. Allerton.
But I could n't get much out of him. He
seemed somehow to be afraid of losing his
freedom, if he committed himself to anything.
He 's a queer fellow."
"Hello, Yellow Jacket!" Toby called out
from the shore.
"Hello, Toby! Burnt up any scows lately?"
Yellow Jacket called back to him from the boat.
"Not many. Who 's that with you, be-
sides Bob?" Toby asked.
"Nobody but Butter Ball."
"See here, boys !" said Toby, "I am going
to have my boat ready to put into the water
to-morrow evening, and I want you to come
over and help me launch her. And, Yellow
Jacket, here 's Mr. Allerton who would like
to speak to you a minute."
"I guess I know what about," said Yellow
Jacket. "But tell him I can't!"
"I am afraid you are missing a chance,
Patterson," spoke up the schoolmaster. "You
know I told you the want of boats, or of a
little money, need n't stand in your way, if
you take hold of the thing in earnest."
"I know. But I can't! We 'll help you
launch your boat to-morrow night, though,
Toby," said Yellow Jacket.
"Much obliged! replied Toby, walking on
with the teacher. Then he said to Mr. Aller-
ton: "How many times I have heard him
say Ican't in just that way, to things it was for
his own interest to say Ican to, with a will."
I should have liked to get hold of him, and
to help make a man of him," said Mr. Allerton
regretfully. "If he would only have come
ashore and talked with me! He 's as shy as
a loon!"

ARRIVED at the store the next morning, Toby
heard from the clerk, Peters, a lively account of



'Tom's returning there the evening before, in
search of his twenty-dollar note, and almost
accusing him- Peters-of having picked it up.
"You have n't seen it, of course ? he said to
I! replied Toby. I should like to find a
few twenty-dollar notes lying around loose, in
this establishment! I met Tom about the time
he must have missed it. But he did n't say any-
thing to me about any lost money. He spoke
of losing something but did n't say what."
"That's how he talked when he first came
in and questioned me. But he finally told me
it was money, and charged me not to tell any
one, not even his father. I must tell you,
though," said Peters; for a thing of that kind
concerns us both. He may accuse you next.
By the way, Tom was pretty mad when he went
to put on his boots, and found you had n't
blacked 'em."
But he did put them on, I see," said Toby,
noticing that the boots were gone. I told him
he might as well not wait for me to do that
little job ?"
"You did, did you?" cried a sharp voice,
which was not that of the clerk Peters, but of
Tom himself, whose anxiety about .the lost
money had brought him to the store at an unus-
ually early hour. He had glided in by the back
way, just in time to overhear Toby's remark
about the boots. "Now, you may just black
the old shoes first, and the boots afterward."
Toby laughed ironically, and proceeded to
dust the counters.
"You won't? Tom demanded.
"Not until I am ordered to by the boss of
the store; and that is n't you -not quite yet,"
said Toby.
But he '11 order you; and I advise you not
to wait," said Tom. "I 've told him. You
should have seen the look he gave, when he
said 'I '11 see!' You know what that look
Toby made no reply, and Tom took Peters
aside to consult him about the money.
No; I 'm sure he knows no more about it
than I do," Toby overheard Peters say to Tom,
while both looked across the store at him.
As soon as Mr. Tazwell came in, Tom has-
tened to interview him in his office. It was not

many minutes before he put his head out of the
door and called:.
"Toby, you are wanted-by the boss.'"
Toby promptly put aside what he was doing,
and entered the office. Tom remained to wit-
ness his humiliation.
"You want me, sir ?" said Toby. For Mr.
Tazwell appeared to be busy with some papers,
and did not look up. Tom backed off between
a window and the safe and grinned. Shall I
come again?" said Toby, determined not to
stand there very long in that embarrassing
The crook in the Tazwell shoulders became
expressive, as, turning over the papers, still
without looking up, he said:
You were told last evening to black Tom's
"Yes, sir; *Tom told me to."
And why did n't you black them ?"
The employer now looked up, keeping his
hand. on his papers.
"I did n't wish to," the boy replied, white,
but without faltering.
"You are here," said Mr. Tazwell, in very
low, distinct tones, to do what you are told,
whether you wish to or not. You understand ?"
"Yes, sir."
SToby did rot know for a moment that he
could find breath to say what was trembling on
his lips. But he remained standing.
"You can go," said Mr. Tazwell, returning
to his papers.
Toby did not stir, except that his lip twitched
and his chest heaved. He felt Tom grinning at
him from the window-behind his father; but
did not look at him.
"I said, you can go," Mr. Tazwell repeated.
Then Toby spoke; and the moment he began,
his breath came and his courage with it.
"If I black Tom's 'boots, will he black mine ?"
"That is a strange question! said Mr. Taz-
well, once more deigning to look up.
It may seem so to you. But I always
understood that Tom and I were to come into
the store on equal terms. I have not refused
to clean your boots, Mr. Tazwell; and I will
clean Tom's if he will clean mine."
The employer regarded him with a look that
actually betrayed surprise, but did not answer.




I don't suppose that will be a pleasant ar-
rangement for any of us," said Toby, stammer-
ing a little. "And as I came here to learn the
business,- and don't see much prospect of learn-
ing it, by doing the things I am usually set at,-
perhaps it will be a good thing,-all around-
if I go."
Tom had ceased to grin. Mr. Tazwell got
the better of his momentary surprise, gave a
shrug that left an additional crook in his shoul-
ders, and said:
"As you please."
Still Toby lingered,
"Perhaps, then," he said, "you will have the
kindness to pay me my wages up to last night.
We will say nothing about this morning."
I have n't intended to drive you out of the
store, Tobias," said the merchant, with a smile
meant to be pleasant and conciliatory. "I
hope your mother will understand it so."
She will understand that I could n't stay,
under the circumstances," the boy replied.
" Shall I come in again for my pay? "-as Mr.
Tazwell made no sign of .giving him any money.
Had n't you better wait till Saturday night,
and think it over? "
The merchant was truly sorry to lose so use-
ful a servant; it was plain he had not expected
this result, and that he was willing to make
some concessions, if Toby would accept them. ,
"I have thought it over," said Toby. "I
don't see any use in waiting till Saturday. But
if it is n't convenient to pay me-it 's a small
matter, anyhow! "-turning away.
It is n't that," said Mr. Tazwell, producing
some money. I will pay you your wages to
next Saturday night."
Excuse me," said Toby. "I can't take--
as wages-what I have n't earned." And he
passed back a part of the money.
"Very well!" said the smiling merchant,
while Tom stared.
He too was sorry to lose so convenient a
drudge; and perhaps something of his old
friendship and liking for Toby returned, now
that they were likely to part.
Oh, come, Toby! he said. I would n't
quit, if I were you. I '11 make everything right."
But Toby paid no heed to this appeal.
There 's one thing more, Mr. Tazwell," he

said. I spoke to you yesterday about paying
for the burnt scow."
"And I reminded you of what Mr. Bruns-
wick says he said of me when he lent it to you.
If after listening to such remarks regarding your
employer you took the boat and burnt it up, I
am surprised that you should speak to me a
second time about it." There was no smile on
the merchant's face now. "You did n't deny
his making the remarks he brags of, as I hoped
you would." Toby did not speak. "Besides,
I 've no money but for my most urgent obliga-
tions, at this time."
Then Toby replied: I had n't the slightest
*intention of asking you for the money a second
time. What I was aiming at was this: The
money you denied to me, for the loss of the
boat, you afterward gave to Tom, here, to make
up for the loss of his gun. Perhaps you thought
that one of your urgent obligations.'"
Mr. Tazwell turned and gave Toi a ques-
tioning look. Tom tried to speak, but stood
frightened and dazed.
"He did n't tell me; he has'kept his promise
to you, as far as I am concerned," continued
Toby. "But the money you gave him he lost.
I found it. And here it is."
Thomas! said Mr. Tazwell, as sternly as
he ever spoke to his favorite child, why have n't
you told me this ? "
I hoped it would turn up Tom said, with
very mingled feelings, in which it is hard to say
whether fear of the paternal displeasure or joy
at seeing the money again was uppermost.
"Where did you find it?" Mr. Tazwell
asked, taking the money, and carefully putting it
into his own pocket instead of handing it again
to Tom.
"Here, on the office floor, last evening. I
saw it when I brought your boots."
"When I was here? Why did n't you
tell me ? "
"Because I thought at first I 'd keep it and
pay it to Mr. Brunswick," Toby confessed.
"And why did n't you? The searching
gray eyes fixed on Toby had a changed
'" I concluded it was n't quite honest and
straightforward; and that I 'd rather come by
the money in some way that was."


Toby's face was almost radiant as he said this,
beaming with noble satisfaction.
Mr. Tazwell bent over his desk and fumbled
his papers in silence. Toby started to go.
One moment, Tobias! said the merchant.
"Did your mother send you back with the
money ?"
No, sir; she knows nothing about it."
Tazwell lifted his hand!from his papers and
passed it over his forehead.
"I am obliged to you, Tobias," he murmured,
as if the words stuck in his throat.
"You are quite welcome," Toby replied
And he walked out of the office, leaving father
and son together.


I SUPPOSE I can have that money, to finish
my trade for Lick Stevens's rifle. He's expect-
ing it."
With these words Tom broke the embarrass-
ing silence that followed Toby's departure.
Do you think you deserve any money, or
any favors from me whatever?" the elder
Tazwell replied, with concentrated displeasure.
" See what a position I am placed in by your
"I don't see what I've done! "mumbled Tom.
"Why did n't you tell me you had lost the
money? Why were you so careless as to lose
it at all ? Why, in the first place, did you come
and beg it of me just at this time ?"
I thought ," began Tom.
"You thought only of your own pleasure and
advantage, as always," said his father, "You
never think of mine. I am much to blame for
upholding you as I do. Why did you insist on
his blacking your boots? See what has come
of it!"
"You said he could."
I have said a good many things to please
you, that I ought not to have said. How did
he get to know so much about my giving you
the money? You must have told."
Mr. Tazwell closed his desk and reached for
his hat.
"I hope to die if I did! Tom exclaimed.

But the elder looked unconvinced. "Say! can't
I have it ? the son pleaded in an injured tone.
"I promised to leave off smoking."
Without a word, but with huge dissatisfaction
in his drawn features and rigid stoop, Mr. Taz-
well walked out of the store.
Toby, in the mean while, on his way home,
saw Aleck the Little, preparing to mount his
bicycle in the parsonage yard, and stopped to
speak with him.
"It was just as I expected," said the minis-
ter's son. "Tom came back here last evening,
and wanted me to make the trade and trust him
for the boot-money."
"The money has been found," replied Toby.
"You don't say so! Aleck exclaimed, lean-
ing his wheel against the gate-post. I did n't
believe there was any."
"I know you did n't. But I did. I had it
in my pocket all the time," said Toby, with a
laughing look over his shoulder as he moved on.
"Where are you bound now ?" cried Aleck.
Home; to do a little work in the garden,
and then tinker up my wharf."
Sho! did Tom let you off from the store ?"
There was a slight squint in one of Lick Ste-
vens's eyes that gave them a malicious expres-
sion, when he chose to be sarcastic. Toby
paid no attention to the jeer, but answered
gaily, "I have nothing'more to do with the
store, or with anybody in it."
"Lignum-vitse! exclaimed Aleck, in aston-
ishment. "Tell me about it Kicked out ?"
"Kicked out," echoed Toby, hurrying on;
" only it was my own feet that did the kicking."
Aleck mounted his bicycle and rode by his
side to hear more of the story,-which Toby,
however, did not seem inclined to tell,- then
wheeled and took a turn through the village.
He was riding to and fro in front of the store,
sounding his bell now and then, in the hope of
attracting Tom's attention and calling him out,
when Tom's sister Bertha, accompanied by an-
other girl, came down the street.
"See here, Aleck Stevens!" cried Bertha, as
they separated to let him ride between them,
"if you don't keep off the sidewalks, I '11 call
the police and have you arrested."
"The police never see me," he boasted, not
without reason, as he turned into the street




and came back zigzagging beside the girls.
"If you go into the store, Bertha, please tell
Tom I want to see him. What was the row?
I suppose you know Toby has left the store,"
said Aleck, his off eye squinting with a glee-
ful twinkle at Bertha's surprise. Good-by; I
guess I won't wait for Tom," and he sailed
away on his wheel.
Bertha left her companions and ran into the
store, to inquire into the truth of this startling
report. "Yes," said Tom, with assumed indif-
ference resting on his hands and swinging him-
self between the ends of two counters. We
have lost his invaluable services."
Oh, Tom!" she exclaimed,* "it is your
doing, I know!"-for he had boasted to her,
the night before, that he would make Toby
clean his boots. Where 's papa?"
"I don't know. I wish I did. He has got
something in his pocket .1 want; and I can't go
out and speak with Lick Stevens till I get it.
Tell him from me-"
"I shall tell him nothing! said Bertha, as
with a look of grief and scorn she went out of
the store and hurried home to her mother. So
when Mr. Tazwell.went to dinner, he found
that the unpleasant news had preceded him.
Is it true," Mrs. Tazwell asked," that Tobias
has left you for good ? "

"For good or for bad," he answered dryly,
as he passed on into the library with an air that
forbade further questioning.
He was not an unkind man in his family;
but when he appeared with that fixed and taci-
turn expression, even his wife rarely ventured to
approach him. She followed him on this occa-
sion, however, and said anxiously:
"Was it the matter of the boots ? "
"Partly that. I can't talk about it now."
"Bertha is much distressed," Mrs. Tazwell
persisted. She thinks Toby has been strangely
ill-used. Not in this thing only. She tells of
Thomas's imposing on him in many ways. And
in the matter of setting fire to the hay-"
"I 'd rather not hear anything more about
that," he said, turning and pacing the floor.
So you have said all along, unwilling.to hear
anybody's story but Thomas's. It is n't for me
to take part against my own son," she went on,
" but I do wish you would listen to me for once,
if you would know the truth."
"I know enough," said the merchant, with
his voice deep in his throat. Will you respect
my wishes and leave me? "
"He will hear nothing," said Mrs. Tazwell,
going out to Bertha, who was awaiting her.
"Something must have gone wrong with him

(To be continued.)

THERE once was an excellent Emu
Who wrote a long ode to the Sea-Mew;
Which she thought very fine
For every third line
Was -

" c^, ^ r7^^^


joo)4:LAN t_ .3 ISOtbE- _. -.


Scene: The woods. Time: Last November.

Miss BIRD.- Why, Mrs. Chipmunk! how do
you do?
MRS. CHIPMUNK.-I 'm quite well, thanks, Miss
Bird; and you?
Miss B.-I 'm sorry to say my health is poor,
So my doctor has ordered a southern
Could n't you manage to come along ?
It would do you good-
MRS. C.- Yes, I 'm far from strong,
And it 's just what I 'd most like
to do
If I 'd only a pair of wings -
Miss B.- Pooh! Pooh!
There are trains for people who
cannot fly.
MRS. C.-Yes, but the fares are so dreadfully
So really I must n't think of that-
Miss B.-If only you'd wings like your cousin
MRs. C.-If only! but then I have n't, you see.
Besides, I've rented a hole in a tree,
On the first-floor branch just three
trees west


Of the oak where you built your last
year's nest.
Miss B.-A charming neighborhood! just the
For a winter home-
MRS. C.- Well, I hope, next spring,
When you 're here again, you -will
try to call.

Miss B.-You are very kind-
MRS. C.- Oh, not at all!
Miss B.--Good-bye, Mrs. Chipmunk.
MRS. C.- Oh, must you fly ?
Then, a pleasant journey !

Miss B.-
MRS. C.-






HuzzY, why do you suppose Missus has put
us in this basket, all huddled together ? "
"Don't know, I 'm sure, Buzzy. But she
told us to lie still; so we must."
"What will happen if we don't, Huzzy ? "
"We shall be whipped."
"Well, it 's nice and warm here in the sun,
Huzzy! Suppose we go to sleep."
"Suppose we do Prrrrrrr prrrrrrrrr!"
Huzzy! Wake up, quick! What is that ?"
Wht is what, you stupid kitten ? Why can't
you let me sleep ? "
Look! That queer thing the Master is bring-
ing. Oh! he makes it stand up on three long,
dreadful legs. Did you ever see anything with
three legs before, Huzzy ?"
"No I think not. It is queer, Buzzy. Do
you think it is alive ? "

"Yes, it must be alive, for it has a head, and
a great round eye. Oh! it is looking at us.
It is moving! Oh! and the Master's head is
gone, and there 's a black thing instead."
"Buzzy, something dreadful is going to happen
to us. I would rather be whipped than killed.
Let us jump out and run into thebarn. Miaow!"
Once out of the basket, they took their time,
and they did n't know that there was any more
danger from that strange instrument. But it
took them as they retreated. Don't tell-
but here they are !



ISABELLA gasped and
Swheezed very much at
first, and she had to be
refreshed by winding up
quite often. I will leave
out all the gaps in her
story, which ran like this:
"Last year I was as beautiful a doll as any
that you see here. I could dance more lightly,
and could walk with fewer jerks than any of
them, and all the gentlemen dolls used to be
proud of my notice; but on Christmas Day Santa
Claus took me away and left me at a beautiful
house down on the earth. It was night when
we arrived, and I was very much frightened
when he went down the chimney with me in
his arms and a lot of other toys on his back,
and hanging to his belt. The little girl to whom
I was to be sent was fast asleep, and when
I saw her pretty face I felt very glad I was
to have so sweet a mama.
I was placed with the other toys on a large
Christmas-tree in the parlor, and when I bade
Santa Claus good-by, my thoughts were full of
the fun the little girl and I would have the next
day; but I was soon tired of staying upon the
tree, and should have fallen asleep if I had not
had on my nice silk frock with the lace apron.
I did not want to rumple my lovely dress, for we
dolls think more of our clothes than of anything
else, so I had to stay awake.
There were a number of square frames on
the walls, some of them with very large dolls'
heads hanging in them. One looked very

like the little girl I had seen asleep upstairs,
while another was a very sweet-faced grown-up
doll. But she was quite dead, for she did not
understand any of the doll language that I spoke
to her.
"I was very glad when it was morning, and
a servant maid came and threw open the win-
dow-shutters, letting in a flood of cheerful
sunshine. Pretty soon in trooped three lovely
children, who shouted and screamed with de-
light when they saw the tree. The little girl
who was to be my mama soon had me down
from my perch, and hugged and kissed me as
if she would eat me. I thought I should love
her very much, as she seemed to care so much
for me.
"Soon after, a lady came in, and then I saw
that what I had taken for a doll's head hanging
in the frame was really a portrait of this lady.
She looked very sweet and lovely, and was my
owner's mama.
"My little mistress thought I was the nicest
present she had ever had. For a long time she
was very careful of me, and we had some happy
games together. She used to tell me all her
secrets, and I should have told her mine, but
she could not understand the doll language, as
you do while you are in Cloudland.
"But at last, she began to tire of me; she
cared for me less and less, and one terrible day,
a day I shall never forget, she pulled off my arm
and one of my legs and threw me into a dark
closet. My hair caught on a nail, and was torn
off my head in the fall. I cried bitterly. The
pain of my broken limbs was not so trying as the
feeling that my mistress, who had loved me so
much, should have treated me so cruelly. There
was a walking-stick, which belonged to my
mama's papa, in the closet, and he told me in a
very gruff voice to be quiet. He said he had
had to walk all over the town during the day,
and could not have his rest disturbed by the


crying of a doll-
baby.. I did not
stop soon enough
to satisfy him,
r and he knocked
one of my eyes
South. After lying
1 there for what
seemed to me an
S age, I heard the
-' well remembered
S soft step of dear
old Santa Clausin
S the room outside.
I shouted loud-
ly, and he came
to the closet and
carried me away.
"I have been
better since I have been back here, arid I sup-
pose I shall be repaired and returned, but you
may fancy how I dread it. I cannot tell you of
all the horrible things. I suffered. During the
last days of my stay I was terribly neglected. I
was once left out on the wet grass all night, and
I have suffered from rheumatism ever since;
while I have been slapped and beaten over and
over again when I had committed no fault. I
wish I could stay here forever !" sobbed poor Isa-
bella, as she concluded her story
and sank back on her pillow.
Elfie felt very sorry for the
poor dolly; for her heart told her
that she had treated more than
one of her own dollies in the
same way, and she thought Santa
Claus must be very forgiving to
overlook her faults and bring
her a new doll every Christmas.
But in this wonderful toy castle
there were so many things to at-
tract her attention that she was
soon thinking of something else.
She kissed poor Isabella, whose .
clockwork heart gave a grateful
"click" at the caress, and, nod-
ding to Maggie. May, she moved
offto further examine the wonders
that were all around her. "TWO OR
VOL. XVIII.- 28.

Elfie had not taken a dozen steps, before
she heard a tremendous clatter in the corner
where she had seen the little jockey-dolls trying
to master the rocking-horse. She went over to
see what was the matter, and she found that
the animal had reared right up on its nose
and thrown every one of its would-be riders
over its head. Two or three of them had fallen
into a tub of water, where the little sailor dolls
were busily launching a model of the Volun-
teer racing yacht.
Luckily for them, E-ma-ji-na-shun was near.
The old man, with great presence of mind,
seized a skipping-rope from a nail and threw
it to the drowning dolls. They all managed
to grasp it, and were dragged ashore by the
brave sailor laddies.
The horse stayed just as he had thrown him-
self, with his nose on the ground and his hind
legs and tail in the air. Elfie tilted him back
again on to his rockers, and he gave two or
three defiant prances before he rocked himself
to a standstill.
"Why, what 's the matter with you, rocking-
horse said Elfie.
Nothing," snorted the gallant steed.
"Nothing! What does a girl kiiow about a
rocking-horse? Ugh !"
Nothing, of course; but why did you throw
these poor little fellows into the water ? asked




Elfie, gently, and she took up one of the little
jockeys to dry him. He was made of wood,
and his eyes had a very don't-care look.
"Never you mind about 'these poor little
fellows,'" grunted the rocking-horse; "they are


quite able to take care of themselves without
any of your interference!"
Elfie thought the rocking-horse was very im-
pertinent, but when she looked at the horse-
breakers, she quite believed him. They were
certainly the hardest looking dolls she had ever
seen. Two or three were carved out of wood,
like the hero she had rescued, some were rub-
ber, while two at least of them were made of
iron or some other metal, and looked able to
put up with any tumble the horse might give
She looked at the little chap she held in her
hand, and, without changing his stony glare,
he said in a gruff hoarse whisper:
"We 're all right, Miss; don't you bother
about the likes of us! We 've got to break
him in before he is allowed to leave here, and
we 're going to do it, Miss,--at any cost!"
Elfie was pleased to see how plucky the little
fellow was. She supposed that it-was the way
the jockey-doll had been taught. She put him
on the ground, and he at once climbed up to
the back of the rocking-horse, who immediately
reared and threw him off.
This last feat seemed to please the fiery steed
very much. He pranced and rocked so fiercely
that not one of the jockeys dared to go near
him. At last, after one or two very. daring
leaps, he gave two or three loud snorts and
began to sing with much spirit:


THOUGH I 'm only a horse set on rockers
And am made altogether of wood,
I am wicked clear through to my saddle,
And I glory in not being good.

I suppose that the reason for this is
I was cut out cross-grained as a colt,
Which makes me so vicious and fractious,
That I kick, rear, plunge, shy, and bolt!

Go bring here the man from the circus
Who thinlf that -ie l;novs how to ride,
Who i: called on the bill the Horse-Breaker,
Oh, call him! I '11 lower his pride.

Or bring me the cowboy so joyous,
Who is known far and near on the plains
As the man called the best bronco rider,
I will give him a fall for his pains.


I was made by a left-handed goblin,
Broken-nosed, with a cast in his eye;
'T is impossible ever to tame me,
Give it up, now, you jockeys, don't try!

Elfie laughed heartily at the conceit of the
rocking-horse, and gave him an imitation apple
which she found among a lot of other china fruit
on the shelf. Then, nodding good-by to the
little horse-breakers, she passed on to the farther
end of the room.






S LFIE walked slowly
along, seeing some-
thing new at every
Step. When she
reached the end of
the room she saw
what she at first
took to be a hideous ogre, standing up against
the wall and staring at her with great goggle
eyes. The head was a terrible sight. It seemed
to Elfie to be as large as the big table in her
papa's library-it was very nearly round, and
had a tuft of hideous red hair on the top and
under the chin. The nose was painted a fiery
red, and its mouth, which was stretched wide
open, was a red flannel bag.
Its body was rather small for the head, but
still as large as a good-sized man, and it was
dressed in clothes which reminded Elfie of the,
clown's dress she had seen at the circus.
"What is that?" she said -to Maggie May,
who had followed her with little jerky steps.
Oh, that 's just a game," she said, and it is
nothing but pasteboard. The way to play," she
said, is to take one of these balls which are in
the basket on the floor, and try to throw it into
the monster's mouth. Whenever the ball goes
in, a little bell rings on the creature's head, and
the lucky player receives a bag of peanuts as a
"Oh yes!" said Elfie, and as she did not
care for that sort of game, was going to walk
on, when E-ma-ji-na-shun whispered to her:
That is all very true what Maggie May says,
but this monster was really an ogre once; he is
the very same one that used to own the seven-
leagued boots, and was condemned for his
bad conduct to stand with his mouth wide open
forever for people to throw balls into."
Elfie looked at the creature with a new curi-
osity, and as she looked, the monster spoke.
He could not close his mouth, so that the
words were very indistinct; but Elfie made
out that he was trying to say:



I USED to be an ogre, I was fond of little children,
My name it was Grimguffin (see the story in the books).
have been condemned forever to stand with mouth wide
You can't say it looks easy, and it's harder than it looks.

What makes my sad fate harder is, I 'm always very hun-
I would give the whole wide world to eat a bit of pickled
But, you see, I 've been forbidden to eat anything but
And base-balls are the only food that give me any joy.

. Then, as if to tantalize me, when folks try to treat me
By feeding me, the throwers all are nearly sure to miss.
Then I suffer dreadful anguish, for I see the nice balls
Oh, I 'm sure I never did deserve an awful fate like this!

So if you please, kind maiden, take a ball or two and throw
As many as you wish to-. I 'd like about a score,
A few will keep me going, though of course I '1l still
be hungry,
For I could eat the basketful, and twice as many more.
"Poor old Grimguffin!" said Elfie, "I am
sure you are being punished severely enough for
your sins. Here is some luncheon for you";


and she threw two of the balls very neatly into sawing, whittling, cutting, hammering, model-
the ogre's open mouth. He was evidently much ing, sewing, and gluing the different materials

..q -MJ, .' _. -;

pleased, and he rang the little bell on the top
of his head quite merrily as Elfie walked away
with old E-ma-ji-na-shun.
They had by this time seen nearly all the
lower floor of the castle, and Elfie asked her
guide to show her the upper part.
Very well, my dear," said the obliging gob-
lin. Come this way, please."
"Hey, presto! Abracadabra! Houp-la!
Here we are."
Elfie felt herself whisked through the air, and,
before she could speak, found herself standing
in another part of the building.
"That 's my patent elevator, my dear," said
E-ma-ji-na-shun. Here we are on the second
floor. This part of the house, my child, is used
for the manufacture of most of the toys you
have seen downstairs."
It really was a wonderful sight. Hundreds
of little goblins, who looked something like
their king, E-ma-ji-na-shun, were hard at work

used in making the beautiful toys Elfie and the
other earth children enjoy so much.
The room was long and low, and there were
no windows to be seen. Light was provided
by dozens of glow-worms, who ran about with
their tiny lamps and threw their light just where
the workmen needed it.
There were hundreds of little tailor goblins,
seated cross-legged on a bench, sewing away on
the clothes intended for the boy-dolls, which
were being made by another set of workmen.
Then there were thousands of little goblin dress-
makers, all busy making dresses for the lady.
dolls. There were tiny blacksmiths and tiny
carpenters, all as hard at work as possible; for
E-ma-ji-na-shun told Elfie that the toymakers
could hardly make toys fast enough to take the
place of those the little earth children were
always breaking.
The room was so long that Elfie could not
see the end of it, and she could not understand


how so long a room could be in the dolls'
castle, as she had seen it from the outside; but
her guide only chuckled and said:
Another one of my tricks, my dear! Don't
make-your head ache by trying to explain the
tricks of E-ma-ji-na-shun. Now I will show


you my head workman, the champion toy-
maker of Cloudland. There he is; now watch
him at work."
The workman that Elfie was looking at was
a light red goblin, picked out with green; that
is, his face, hands, and legs were red, his body
was red with green stripes, while his hair, eye-
brows, eyes, teeth, and finger-nails were green.
His nose was a deeper red than the rest of
his face, making a very pleasant contrast.
He held in one hand a long round stick and
in the other a little hatchet, and as he stood at
his bench he kept repeating the verse:

Tweeney, Tweeney, Twiney-twum,
Cattle-a-weeney, winey wum,
Spick, spack, must be done -
Tweeney, Twiney, Twenty-one.

Every time he said "twenty-one," he would
hit the stick with his hatchet, and immediately
some sort of a toy was made, complete!. There
was a top, or a doll, or a music-box, or a lead
soldier, or a boat, just whatever he thought the
workmen were most in need of at that moment.
Elfie thought it was wonderful; and she
watched old Handiman, which was the goblin's
name, for some minutes, during which time he


A little," said Elfie.
"Then we 'll return to Mother Goose this
very moment! said the goblin.

made forty toys, all of them different, and yet
his stick seemed to get no shorter.
"Another trick, I suppose," said she, and
E-ma-ji-na-shun nodded and laughed heartily.
When they left him they walked down to the
other end of the room. There they saw the
goblin bakers making tlie gingerbread
horses and men that are sold at Christ-
mas. Twenty very fat little goblins were
busy biting the holes in the doughnuts.
E-ma-ji-na-shun told Elfie that this work
was so trying to the nerves of the work-
men that a fresh lot of goblins had to
-be engaged each week.
Close by was the toy-animal factory.
Here they were making rocking-horses,
toy sheep, rabbits, oxen, etc., one lot
.. of workers being kept busy all the time
chopping off animals for Noah's Arks.
Then there was a room for baby car-
riages and express-wagons, and so many
things to look at that Elfie's head was
nearly turned with excitement. In fact, she felt
that if she should see any more, she would
have a headache. As usual, E-ma-ji-na-shun
knew her thought although she said nothing.
He at once turned away from the playthings
and spoke to Elfie.
"Are you tired of the toys?" asked E-ma-
ji-na-shun, kindly. 1


Again they rose into the air, and after a
pleasant flight of a few minutes, Elfie met the
dear old lady again.

Oh! you dear old Mother Goose," she cried;
"it seems to me that I have seen everything
and everybody I have ever wondered at, and
I'll never, never forget you, and I hope I shall
come back again and again. Yes," Elfie went
on, "there is nothing now that I have won-
dered at that I have not seen--except--
except "
What ?" asked Mother Goose.
"Except the moon," said Elfie.
"The moon, child! cried the dame, "What-
ever do you want to know about the moon ? "
I want to know what it is, and why it gets
small and large again, and who the Man in the
Moon is, and oh dear me! I don't understand
it at all," sighed the little girl.

"Ha! ha! my dear," chuckled the soft,
quaint little voice of E-ma-ji-na-shun, who was
seated on Elfie's shoulder. "Whenever you don't
understand anything you must
come to me to help you :out.
I can always explain everything
fully. To be sure, when you
get down to earth again, it is
likely you will wonder just as
much as ever about all the
things I have explained to you,
Sbut then you will always have
the satisfaction of knowing that
what I have told you might be
S) true after all. And now, if you
will be so good as to take a seat
on this yellow stone, I will
explain this moon business to
S, you.'"
Why! what a funny stone! "
said Elfie, looking at the seat
lie had pointed out. to her,
THE DOUGHNUTS." which seemed to her a round,
yellowish-green looking stone.
"Yes," said the old gentleman, "you may
well say that. Look at it again. What does it
look like?"
"It looks like cheese," replied Elfie.
"It is cheese," said E-ma-ji-na-shun; taste
it! smell it! It is cheese, and the very best
quality, too, for it is a piece of the identical
moon itself! "

(To be continued.)




e- rtfE a.nA


' ~D DEAR Turtle," chirped the Katydid, what /
makes you walk so slow ? "
(They're sadly ungrammatical, are Katydids,
you know.)

Oh, Katydid," the. Turtle cried, "why don't
you change your tune ?
You sing the same old silly wrangle, morning, night, and noon."

"Walk slowly ?" asked the Turtle. "Katy, Nature made me so.
"And there 's no place to which I wish especially to go."

"Sing other songs?" asked Katy. "Why,
't was Nature made me so.
"I cannot sing another; it's the only song
I know."

So, both concluding Nature knew just what
she meant to do,
The Turtle went on crawling; Katy chirped
the song she knew.



He hears every day,
A homily simple
Beginning this way:
" Now, Tommy, you must n't,"
And Tommy, you must";
And "Tommy, stop running,
You '11 kick up the dust ";
And "Do not go swim-
Or you will get wet,"
And Do not go sailing,
-Or you will upset";

And Do not be wrestling,
You '11 fracture your bones,"
And Do not go climbing,
You '11 fall on the stones ";
And Do not be whistling,
You 're not a mere bird,"
And Good little children
Are seen and not heard,-"

Which Tommy on hearing
Exclaims, "Deary me
What can a boy do,
And where can a boy be ?"

e- rtfE a.nA


' ~D DEAR Turtle," chirped the Katydid, what /
makes you walk so slow ? "
(They're sadly ungrammatical, are Katydids,
you know.)

Oh, Katydid," the. Turtle cried, "why don't
you change your tune ?
You sing the same old silly wrangle, morning, night, and noon."

"Walk slowly ?" asked the Turtle. "Katy, Nature made me so.
"And there 's no place to which I wish especially to go."

"Sing other songs?" asked Katy. "Why,
't was Nature made me so.
"I cannot sing another; it's the only song
I know."

So, both concluding Nature knew just what
she meant to do,
The Turtle went on crawling; Katy chirped
the song she knew.



He hears every day,
A homily simple
Beginning this way:
" Now, Tommy, you must n't,"
And Tommy, you must";
And "Tommy, stop running,
You '11 kick up the dust ";
And "Do not go swim-
Or you will get wet,"
And Do not go sailing,
-Or you will upset";

And Do not be wrestling,
You '11 fracture your bones,"
And Do not go climbing,
You '11 fall on the stones ";
And Do not be whistling,
You 're not a mere bird,"
And Good little children
Are seen and not heard,-"

Which Tommy on hearing
Exclaims, "Deary me
What can a boy do,
And where can a boy be ?"



WITHOUT doubt there are few of my young
readers who have not at some period in their
lives had a fancy for making a collection of one
sort or another. In my school-boy days, we used
to treasure up various kinds of curiosities, even
unusual stones,. such as flint, feldspar,
mica, sparkling quartz, and :omerin-, es
agates and carnelians, all of which were
very attractive to us; and though we did
not always know their scientific, geolog-
ical names, we prized them as being
different from ordinary pebbles lying
in the road or by the brookside.
Collecting the various kinds of birds'. eggs
was fun to some boys, but robbing the poor
little mother-birds of their horme tirreures to me
always seemed heartless and cruel. Bnlliantly
colored moths and butterflies make a beautiful
display, but one needs either a thorough know-
ledge of insects, or a strong desire to study them,.
to make a satisfactory collection of this kind,
properly arranged and labeled.
During the war, there was quite a fashion of
getting together all the'envelops with patriotic
and comic pictures, so much used by the sol-
diers, North and South; and some of these,
which are still in existence, are very interesting
as relics. Confederate bills and the United
States postal currency notes were also treasured,
and will doubtless become more highly prized
by collectors as they become rarer. Then the
postage-stamp mania" set in, and perhaps
became more popular and lasted longer than
any other form of collecting chosen by young
people as an amusement.
Autograph collections are by no means novel-
ties, and there are many very large and valuable
ones in this country, as well as in Europe. My
own does not pretend to be extraordinary, and
has never caused me great expense or effort,
the small item of postage, and the cost of
the volumes containing it, being almost the

entire outlay of money. While yet a boy, I
had read many descriptions of very valuable
collections, but I think the idea of starting
one of my own was first suggested by seeing a
signature of

'in a little old-fashioned hair-covered trunk, in
which my father kept old letters and other
papers. This autograph my father gave to me,
when my collection had made a beginning, and
it still heads the long list of Presidents of the
United States whose signatures, I have since
obtained. Here the rest are in order of time:

/3 ( Y .



For some time, I studied over a form for ad-
dressing distinguished people, whose autographs
I wished to ask for; and having finally composed
a letter, which in my boyish judgment was
proper, and sufficiently respectful and polite,
I ventured to address first the Hon. Henry
Clay, of Kentucky; from whom, in the course
of a weak or two (for mails were of course
slower in those days than they are now), I re-
ceived a pleasant reply, with this signature:

Of course I was much delighted to be thus
honored, and proud of my first success; and I

lost no time in addressing letters to various
other prominent people; among them, Gen-
eral Zachary Taylor, who was then winning
laurels by his recent victories in Mexico; ex-
President Martin Van Buren; Mrs. Sigourmey,
the poet; Fenimore Cooper and Samuel Lover,
the novelists, and several others, from all ofwhom
I obtained autographs during the first year.
As the number of letters increased, I found
I must adopt some way of arranging them so
as to be easy to look over. The convenient
postage-stamp and autograph albums of the
present day were not then in use, and so I
invested my first spare five dollars in a book
which, I ordered made expressly for the pur-
pose, with leaves of Bristol-board, upon which
the autographs might be neatly pasted.
That first book has for a long time been
completely filled, and has had to undergo the
process of rebinding. I had the back of each
leaf strengthened by a linen hinge; a very good
way in which to have any. book of the kind

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made at first, as the binding will wear much
longer, and the back is not as likely to be
strained when the book is opened flat.
In the course of a year or two after I com-
menced collecting autographs, I had received
letters from most of the prominent literary peo-
ple of our own country who were then in their
prime; among them, Bryant, Longfellow, Fitz-
Greene Halleck, who wrote the stirring poem
most school-boys will remember, Marco Boz-
zaris," a piece" which used often to be selected
for declamation when I was a lad, as I suppose
it is still. I show you on these pages the very
pleasant little note I received from Mr. Halleck.
Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote me also a verse
of poetry, but as I have two or three specimens
of his handwriting, I choose the shortest. It is a
sentence from one of his essays, and a very good
motto, by the way, for boys to keep in mind.
Those boys who have traveled over the
Hudson River Railroad, or have sailed up
the river on the Albany boat, may have had

pointed out to them, a little south of Irvington,
and hardly beyond a stone's-throw from the car
window, an old-fashioned'Dutch-gabled cottage,
almost hidden among beautiful shade trees. It
is the former home of Washington Irving, and
is said to be the Old Van Tassel House," of
which he speaks in his Legend of Sleepy

/I --a2~7 dL!Z ^y

Hollow." This old house he named "Sunny-
side," and there he spent the last years of his
life. Above you may see a copy of an auto-
graph of his, written at Sunnyside.


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Then, I received .a charming note from I addressed him. On this page you will see
Nathaniel Hawthorne, whose Mosses from what he wrote me.
an Old Manse," "Snow Image" and other Written three years later, is the letter from
"Twice Told Tales," and "Tanglewood Tales," the poet, James Russell Lowell, who, not long
had a weird fascination for me, even as a boy. since, was our Minister to England. He lived
Mr. Hawthorne, as you will see from the letter, in a pleasant old house at Cambridge, which
had been living at Salem, but had removed to he called Elmwood." It is not far, I be-
Lenox, of which fact I was ignorant at the time lieve, from the homes of other distinguished

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Bostonians, among them that of Dr. Oliver
Wendell Holmes, and the house where the
poet Longfellow lived.
When quite a small boy, I can recollect being
lifted up in my father's arms to get a glimpse
of a distinguished orator who was addressing a
mass-meeting in the open air, ini a Western city.
The speaker was

and, though he lived many years thereafter, I
believe I never happened to see him again.
I am compelled by want of space to omit a
large number of letters and signatures of prom-
inent literary people of our own land, but I
shall add here the autograph of the great English

reformer, John Bright; of Edward Everett
Hale, whose books are favorites with boys of

the present day; and of Mark Twain, whose
humor delights everybody, and whose books,


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"Tom Sawyer" and the "Prince and Pauper,"
have been very popular with boys.
There is in my book a letter from General
Scott, who was Commander-in-Chief at the
breaking out of the war; and there are signa-
tures of nearly all the prominent generals, both


Federal and Confederate, and of the admirals
of both navies; there is also a letter from Jef-
ferson Davis, written while he was a prisoner at
Fortress Monroe.
And now let us take a look at a page of
signatures, copied from one of my volumes, in
which they were written
while I was a resident of
Washington, in the early
years of the war. They
are those of President
tLincoln, and the officers
of his cabinet, as it was
--"-' then.

Among other autographs
of Mr. Lincoln, in my col-
I -lection, is a telegraphic
message which he wrote
S to General Tyler, then in




~ s~



command at Harper's Ferry, inquir-
ing what Confederate troops
were. about Winchester,
and "north of there."
Mr. Lincoln subse-
quently changed his
mind about this mes-
sage, and did not
send it. He crumpled
-,. it up and threw it
into a waste-basket,
from which a friend
of mine rescued the
paper, and some years
after gave it to me.
Here is the auto-
graph of the hero of
Fort Sumter, General
Robert Anderson, and
the date renders the
signature peculiarly
valuable, proving it to have
been written in the fort, in
Charleston harbor, only a
few weeks before that cele-
brated stronghold was cap-

In the second part of this description of my
collection, I shall show you many other distin-
guished names, and a touching and beautiful
letter from William Makepeace Thackeray,- a
letter that has never been published.
ro be concluded.)


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[Begun in the November number.]
THE good-natured Younkins was on hand
bright and early the next morning, to show the
new settlers where to cut the first furrow on
the land which they had determined to plow.
Having decided to take the northwest corner
of the quarter-section selected, it was easy to
find the stake set at the corner. Then, having
drawn an imaginary line from the stake to that
which was set in the southwest corer, the tall
Charlie standing where he could be used as a
sign for said landmark, his father and his
uncle, assisted by Younkins and followed by
the two other boys, set the big breaking-plow
as near that line as possible. The four yoke of
oxen stood obediently in line. Mr. Howell
firmly held the plow-handles; Younkins drove
the two forward yoke of cattle, and Mr. Bryant
the second two; and the two younger boys stood
ready to hurrah as soon as the word was given
to start. It was an impressive moment to the
"Gee up!" shouted Younkins, as mildly as
if the oxen were petted children. The long train
moved, the sharp nose of the plow cut into the
virgin turf, turning over a broad sod, about
five inches thick; and then the plow swept
onward toward the point where Charlie stood
waving his red handkerchief in the air. Sandy
seized a huge piece of the freshly turned sod,
and waving it over his head with his strong
young arms, he cried, "Three cheers for the
first sod of Bleeding Kansas! 'Rah! 'Rah!
'Rah! The farming of the boy settlers had
Charlie, at his distant post on the other side
of the creek, saw the beginning of things, and
sent back an answering cheer'to the two boys
who were dancing around the massive and slow-
VOL. XVIII.-29. 31

moving team of cattle. The men smiled at the
enthusiasm of the youngsters, but in their hearts
the two new settlers felt that this was, after all,
an event of much significance. The green
turf now being turned over was disturbed by
plowshare for the first time since the crea-
tion of the world. Scarcely ever had this soil
felt the pressure of the foot of a white man.
For ages unnumbered it had been the feeding-
ground of the buffalo and the deer. The Ameri-
can savage had chased his game over it, and
possibly the sod had been wet with the blood
of contending tribes. Now all was to -be
changed. As the black loamy soil was turned
for the first time to the light of day, so for the
first time the long-neglected plain was being
made useful for the support of civilized man.
No wonder the boys cheered and cheered
"We go to plant her common schools
On distant prairie swells,
And give the Sabbaths of the wild
The music of her bells."
This is what was in Mr. Charles Bryant's
mind as he wielded the ox-goad over the backs
of the animals that drew the great plow along
the first furrow cut on the farm of the emigrants.
The day was bright and fair; the sun shone
down on the flower-gemmed sod; no sound
broke on the still air but the slow treading of
the oxen, the chirrup of the drivers, the rip-
ping of the sod as it was turned in the furrow,
and the gay shouts of the light-hearted boys.
In a line of marvelous straightness, Younkins
guided the leading yoke of cattle directly to-
ward the creek on the other side of which
Charlie yet stood, a tall but animated landmark.
When, after descending the gradual slope on
which the land lay, the trees that bordered the
stream hid the lad from view, it was decided
that the furrow was long enough to mark the
westerly boundary line of the forty acres


which it was intended to break up for the first
corn-field on the farm. Then the oxen were
turned, with some difficulty, at right angles with
the line just drawn, and were driven easterly
until the southern boundary of the patch was
marked out. Turning now at right angles and
tracing another line to the north, then again to
the west to the point of original departure, they
had accurately defined the outer boundaries of
the field on which so much in the future de-
pended; for here was to be planted the first
crop of the new-comers.
Younkins, having started the settlers in their
first farming, returned across the river to his
own plow, first having sat down with the Dixon

snapping up the insects and worms which,
astonished at the great upheaval, wriggled in
the overturned turf.
Looks sort er homelike here," said Younkins,
with a pleased smile, as he drew his bench to
the well-spread board and glanced around at
the walls of the cabin, where the boys had
already hung their fishing-tackle, guns, Oscar's
violin, and a few odds and ends that gave a
picturesque look to the long-deserted cabin.
"Yes," said Mr. Bryant, as he filled Youn-
kins's tin cup with hot coffee, our boys have
all got the knack of making themselves at
home,-runs in the blood, I guess, and if you
come over here again in a day or two, you will .


party to a substantial dinner. For the boys,
after the first few furrows were satisfactorily
turned, had gone back to the cabin and made
ready the noon meal. The plowmen, when they
came to the cabin in answer to Sandy's whoop
from the roof, had made a considerable begin-
ning in the field. They had gone around within
the outer edge of the plantation that was to be,
leaving with each circuit a broader band of
black and shining loam over which a flock of
birds hopped and swept with eager movements,

probably find us with rugs on the floor and pic-
tures on the walls. Sandy is a master-hand at
hunting, and he intends to get a dozen buffalo-
skins out of hand, so to speak, right away."
And he looked fondly at his freckled nephew as
he spoke.
A dibble and a corn-dropper will be more
in his way than the rifle, for some weeks to
come," said Mr. Howell.
"What 's a dibble?" asked both of the
youngsters at once.



The elder man smiled 'and looked at Youn-
kins as he said, "A dibble, my lambs, is an
instrument for the planting of corn. With it
in one hand you punch a hole in the sod that
has been turned over, and then, with the other
hand, you drop in three or four grains of corn
from the corn-dropper, cover it with your heel,
and there you are,- planted."
"Why, I supposed we were going to plant
corn with a hoe; and we've got the hoes, too!"
cried Oscar.
"No, my son," s.id hiis father: "if we were to
plant corn with ahoe, we should n't get through
planting before next fall, I am afraid. After
dinner, we will make some dibbles for you
boys, for you must begin to drop corn to-mor-
row. What plowing we have done to-day, you.
can easily catch up with when you begin. And
the three of you can all be on the furrow at
once, if that seems worth while."
The boys very soon understood fully what a
dibble was, and what a corn-dropper was, strange
though those implements were to them at first.
Before the end of planting-time, they fervently
wished they had never seen either of these
instruments of the corn-planter.
With the aid of a few rude tools, there was
fashioned a staff from the tough hickory that
grew near at hand, the lower part of the stick
being thick and pointed at the end. The staff
was about as high as would come up to a boy's
shoulder, so that as he grasped it near the upper
end, his arm being bent, the lower end was
on the ground. The upper end was whittled so
as to make a convenient handle for the user.
The lower end was shaped carefully into some-
thing like the convex sides of two spoons put
together by their bowls, and the lower edge of
this part was shaved down to a sharpness that
was increased by slightly scorching it in the fire.
Just above the thickest part of the dibble, a hole
was bored at right angles through the wood.
and into this a peg was driven so that several
inches stuck out on both sides of the instrument.
This completed the dibble.
"So that is a dibble, is it?" said Oscar,
when the first one was shown him. "A dib-
ble. Now let 's see how you use it."
Thereupon his Uncle Aleck stood up, grasped
the staff by the upper end, pressed his foot on

the peg at the lower end of the tool and so
forced the sharp point of the dibble downward
into the earth. Then, drawing it out, a convex
slit was shown in the elastic turf. Shaking an
imaginary grain of corn into the hole, he closed
it with a stamp of his heel, stepped on and re-
peated the motion a few times, and then said;
"That 's how they plant corn on the sod in
"Uncle Aleck, what a lot you know said
Oscar, with undisguised admiration.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bryant, taking a pair of old
boots, cut off the legs just above the ankles,
and, fastening in the lower end of each a
round bit of wood, by means of small nails,
quickly made a pair of corn-droppers. Sandy's
belt, being passed through the loop-strap of one
of these, was fastened around his waist. The
dropper was to be filled with corn, and, thus ac-
coutered, he was ready for doing duty in the
newly plowed field. When the lad expressed
his impatience for another day to come so that
he could begin corn-planting, the two elders
of the family laughed outright.
"Sandy, boy, you will be glad when to-mor-
row night comes, so that you can rest from your
labors. You remember what I tell you!" said
his father.
Nevertheless, when the two boys stepped
bravely out, next morning, in the wake of the
breaking-team, they were not in the least dis-
mayed by the prospect of working all day in the
heavy furrows of the plow. Bryant drove the
leading yoke of oxen, Charlie tried his 'prentice
hand with the second yoke, and Howell held
the plow.
"' He that by the plow would thrive,
Must either hold the plow or drive,'"

commented Oscar, filling his corn-dropper
and eying his father's rather awkward handling
of the ox-goad. Uncle Aleck had usually
driven the cattle, but his hand was now re-
quired in the.more difficult business of holding
the plow.
"'Plow deep while sluggards sleep,'" replied
his father; and if you don't manage better with
dropping corn than I do with driving these
oxen we shall have a short crop."
How many grains of corn to a hole, Uncle



Aleck ? and how many bushels to the acre ?"
asked Oscar.
Not more than five grains nor less than
three is the rule, my boy. Now then, step out
And the big team swept down the slope, leav-
ing a broad and shining furrow behind it. The
two boys followed, one about twenty feet behind
the other, and when the hindermost had come

up to the work of him who was ahead, he skipped a
the planted part and went on ahead of his corn- t
rade twenty feet, thus alternating each with the
other. They were cheerily at work when, appar- c
ently from under the feet of the forward yoke of s
oxen, a bird somewhat bigger than a robin flew t
up with shrieks of alarm and then went fluttering

r- -_


)ff along the ground, tumbling in the grass as if
desperately wounded and unable to fly. Sandy
nade a rush for the bird, which barely eluded
his clutches once or twice, and drew him on and
,n in a fruitless chase, for the timid creature soon
recovered the use of its wings, and soaring aloft,
disappeared in the depths of the sky.
"That's the deceivingest bird I ever saw,"
panted Sandy, out of breath with running, and
looking shamefacedly at the corn
which he had spilled in his haste
to catch his prey. "Why, it
acted just as if its right wing
i was broken, and then it flew off
as sound as a nut, for all I could
S When the plowmen met them,
on the next turn of the team,
Uncle Aleck said, Did you catch
the lapwing, you silly boy ? That
yl fellow fooled you nicely."
"Lapwing ?" said Sandy, puz-
\ zled. "What'sa lapwing?" But
/the plowmen were already out of
Oh, I know now," said Oscar.
t "I've read of the lapwing; it is
a bird so devoted to its young,
or its nest, that when it fancies
either in danger, it assumes all
the distress of a wounded thing,
S and, fluttering along the ground,
draws the sportsman away from
i the locality."
"Right out of a book, Oscar! "
S cried Sandy. "And here's its
S nest, as sure as I 'm alive!" So
saying, the lad stooped and, part-
ing the grass with his hands,
7 disclosed a pretty nest sunk in
the ground, holding five finely
speckled eggs. The bird, so lately
playing the cripple, swooped
nd circled around the heads of the boys as
hey peered into the home of the lapwing.
"Well, here 's an actual settler that we must
listurb, Sandy," said Oscar; for the plow will
mash right through this nest on the very next
ur. Suppose we take it up and put it some-
where else,- out of harm's way ? "


I 'm willing," assented Sandy; and the two
boys, carefully extracting the nest from its place,
carried it well over into the plowed ground,
where under the lee of a thick turf it was left in
safety. But, as might have been expected, the
parent lapwing never went near that nest again.
The fright had been too great.
"What in the world are you two boys up to
now ?" shouted Uncle Aleck from the other
side of the plowing. Do you call that drop-
ping corn? Hurry and catch up with the
team; you are 'way behind."
Great Scott!" cried Sandy, "I had clean
forgotten the corn-dropping. A nice pair of
farmers we are, Oscar!" and the lad, with might
and main, began to close rapidly the long gap
between him and the steadily moving ox-team.
Leg-weary work, is n't it, Sandy ? said his
father, when they stopped at noon to take the
luncheon they had brought out into the field
with them.
Yes, and I 'm terribly hungry," returned the
boy, biting into a huge piece of cold corn bread.
I should n't eat this if I were at home, and I
should n't eat it now if I were n't as hungry as a
bear. Say, daddy, you cannot think how tired
my leg is with the punching of that dibble into
the sod; seems as if I could n't hold out till
sundown; but I suppose I shall. First I punch
a hole by jamming down the dibble with my
foot, and then I kick the hole again with the
same foot, after I have dropped in the grains
of corn. Those two motions are dreadfully
"Yes," said his uncle, with a short laugh,
".and while I was watching you and Oscar,
this forenoon, I could n't help thinking that you
did not yet know how to make your muscles
bear an equal strain. Suppose you try changing
legs ? "
".Changing legs?" exclaimed both boys at
once. "Why, how could we exchange legs ?"
"I know what Uncle Aleck means. I saw
you always used the right leg .to jam down
the dibble with, and then you kicked the hole
full with the right heel. No wonder your right
legs are tired. Change hands and legs, once
in a while and use the dibble on the left side
of you," said Charlie, whose driving had tired
him quite as thoroughly.

Is n't Charlie too awfully knowing for any-
thing, Oscar?" said Sandy with some sarcasm.
Nevertheless, the lad got up, tried the dibble
with his left hand, and saying, "Thanks, Charlie,"
dropped down upon the fragrant sod and was
speedily asleep, for a generous nooning was
allowed the industrious lads.



THE next day was Sunday, and, true to their
New England training, the settlers refrained
from labor on the day of rest. Mr. Bryant
took his pocket Bible and wandered off into
the wild waste of lands somewhere. The others
lounged about the cabin, indoors and out, a
trifle sore and stiff from the effects of work so
much harder than that to which they had been
accustomed, and glad of an opportunity to rest
their limbs. The younger of the boy settlers com-
plained that they had worn their legs out with
punching holes in the sod while planting corn.
The soles of their feet were sore with the pressure
needed to jam the dibble through the tough turf.
In the afternoon, they all wandered off through
the sweet and silent wilderness of rolling prairie
into thewoods in which they proposed to lay off
another claim for preemption. At a short dis-
tance above their present home, cutting sharply
through the sod, and crossing the Republican
Fork a mile or so above their own ford, was an
old Indian trail, which the boys had before
noticed but could not understand. As Charlie
and Oscar, pressing on ahead of their elders,
came upon the old trail, they loitered about
until the rest of the party came up, and then
they asked what could have cut that narrow
track in the turf, so deep and so narrow.
"That's an Injun trail," said Younkins, who,
with an uncomfortably new suit of Sunday
clothes and a smooth-shaven face, had come
over to visit his new neighbors. Did n't you
ever see an Injun trail before ?" he asked,
noting the look of eager curiosity on the faces of
the boys. They assured him that they never
had, and he continued: "This yere trail has
been yere for years and years, long and long
before any white folks came into the country.


Up north and east of yere, on the headwaters
of the Big Blue, the Cheyennes used to live "-
Younkins pronounced it Shyans,-"and as
soon as the grass began to start in the spring,
so as to give feed to their ponies and to the
buffalo, they would come down this yere way
for game. They crossed the Fork just above
yere-like, and then they struck down to the
headwaters of the Smoky Hill and so off to the
westwards. Big game was plenty in those days,
and now the Indians off to the north of yere come
down in just the same way-hunting for game."
The boys got down on their knees and scanned
the trail with new interest. It was not more
than nine or ten inches across, and was so worn
down that it made a narrow trench, as it were,
in the deep sod, its lower surface being as smooth
as a rolled wagon-track. Over this well-worn
track, for ages past, the hurrying feet of wild
tribes had passed so many times that even the
wiry grass-roots had been killed down.
"Did war parties ever go out on this trail,
do you suppose?" asked Sandy, sitting up in
the grass.
Sakes alive, yes replied Younkins. "Why,
the Cheyennes and the Comanches used to roam
over all these plains, in the old times, and they
were mostly at war."
"Where are the Cheyennes and the Co-
manches now, Mr. Younkins ?" asked Uncle
I reckon the Comanches are off to the south-
like somewhere. It appears to me that I heard
they were down off the Texas border, some-
wheres; the Cheyennes are to the westwards,
somewhere near Fort Laramie."
"And what Indians, are there who use this
trail now?" inquired Oscar, whose eyes were
sparkling with excitement as he studied the
well-worn path of the Indian tribes.
Younkins explained that the Pottawottomies
and the Pawnees, now located to the north, were
the only ones who used the trail. "Blanket
Indians" he said they were, peaceable creatures
enough, but not good neighbors; he did not
want any Indians of any sort near him. When
one of the boys asked what blanket Indians
were, Younkins explained:
There 's three kinds of Indians, none on 'em
good: town Injuns, blanket Injuns, and wild

Injuns. You saw some of the town Injuns
when you came up through the Delaware re-
serve-great lazy fellows, lyin' round the.
house all day and letting the squaws do all the
work. Then there's the blankets; they live out
in the woods and on the prairie, in teepees, or
lodges, of skins and canvas-like, moving round
from place to place, hunting over the plains in
summer, and living off'n the Gov'ment in win-
ter. They are mostly at peace with the whites,
but they will steal whenever they get a chance.
The other kind, and the worst, is the wild ones.
They have nothing to do with the Government,
and they make war on the whites whenever
they feel like it. Just now, I don't know. of
any wild Injuns that are at war with Uncle
Sam; but the Arapahoes, Comanches, and Chey-
ennes are all likely to break loose any time. I
give 'em all a plenty of elbow room."
As the boys reluctantly ceased contemplating
the fascinating Indian trail and moved on be-
hind the rest of the party, Charlie said: I
suppose we must make allowance for Younkins's
prejudices. He is like most of the border men,
who believe that all the good Indians are dead.
If the Cheyennes and the Comanches could
only tell their story in the books and news-
papers, we might hear the other side.",
The idea of a wild Indian's writing a book ora
letter to the newspapers tickled Sandy so much
that he laughed loud and long.
Some two miles above the point where the
settlers' ford crossed the Republican Fork, the
stream swept around a bluffy promontory, and on
a curve just above this was the tract of timber
land which they now proposed to enter upon
for their second claim. The trees were oak,
hickory, and beech, with a slight undergrowth
of young cottonwoods and hazel. The land
lay prettily, the stream at this point flowing in
a southerly direction, with the timber claim on
its northwesterly bank. The sunny exposure
of the grove, the open glades that diversified its
dense growth, and the babbling brook that
wound its way through it to the river, all com-
bined to make it very desirable for a timber
claim. At a short distance from the river the
land rose gradually to a high ridge, and on the
top of this grew a thick wood of spruce and fir.
"That 's -what you want for your next cabin,"




said Younkins, pointing his finger in the direction
of the pines. Best kind of stuff for building
there is in these parts." Then he explained to
the boys the process of cutting down the trees,
splitting them up into shakes, or into lengths
suitable for cabin-building, and he gave them
an entertaining account of all the ways and
means of finishing up a log-cabin, a process, by
the way, which they found then more entertain-
ing in description than they afterward found
it in the reality.
That night when Sandy lay down to refresh-
ing sleep it was to dream of picturesque Indian
fights witnessed at a safe distance from afar.
Accordingly, he was not very much surprised
next morning, while he was helpifig Charlie to
get ready the breakfast, that Oscar ran in
breathless, with the one word, "Indians!"'
Come out- on the hill back of the cabin,"
panted Oscar. "There 's a lot of 'em coming
out on the trail we saw yesterday, all in Indian
file. Hurry up!" and away he darted, Sandy
hastening with him to see the wonderful sight.
Sure enough, there they were, twenty-five or
thirty Indians-blanket Indians, as Younkins
would have said-strung along in the narrow
trail, all in Indian file. It amazed the lads to
see how the little Indian ponies managed to
keep their feet in the narrow trail. But they
seemed to trot leisurely along with one foot
before the other, just as the Indians did. Be-
hind the mounted men were men and boys
on foot nearly as many as had passed on horse-
back. These kept up with the others, silently
but swiftly maintaining the same pace that the
mounted fellows did. It was a picturesque and
novel sight to the young settlers. The Indians
were dressed in the true frontier style, with hunt-
ing-shirt and leggings of dressed deerskin, a
blanket slung loosely over the shoulder, all bare-
headed, and with coarse black hair flowing in
the morning breeze, except for the loose knot
in which it was twisted behind. Some of them
carried their guns slung on their backs, but most
of them had the weapons in their hands, ready
for firing on the instant.
There they go, over the divide," said Oscar,
as the little cavalcade reached the last swale
of the prairie and began to disappear on the
other side. Not one of the party deigned even

to look in the direction of the wondering boys;
and if they saw them, as they probably did, they
made no sign.
"There they go, hunting buffalo, I suppose,"
said Sandy, with a sigh, as the last Indian of the
file disappeared down the horizon. Dear me !
don't I wish I was going out after buffalo, in-
stead of having to dibble corn into the sod all
day Waugh Don't I hate it! and the boy
turned disconsolately back to the cabin. But
he rallied with his natural good-humor when he
had his tale to tell at the breakfast table. He
eagerly told how they had seen Indians pass-
ing over the old trail, and had gazed on the
redskins as they went "on the warpath."
"Warpath indeed !" laughed Charlie. "Pot-
hunters, that's what they are. All the warfare
they are up to is waged on the poor innocent
buffalo that Younkins says they are killing off
and making scarcer every year."
If nobody but Indians killed buffalo," said
Mr. Bryant, there would be no danger of their
ever being all killed off. But, in course of time,
I suppose this country will all be settled up, and
then there will be railroads, and after that.
the buffalo will 'have to go. Just now, any
white man that can't saddle his horse and go
out and kill a buffalo before breakfast thinks
they are getting scarce. But I have heard
some of the soldiers say that away up north
of here, a little later in the season, settlers can-
not keep their crops, the buffalo roam all over
everything so."
For my part," put in Charlie, I am not in
the least afraid that the buffalo will be so plenty
around these parts that they will hurt our crops;
but I 'd just like to see a herd come within shoot-
ing distance." And here he raised his arms
and took aim along an imaginary rifle.
Later in the forenoon, when the two younger
boys had reached the end of the two rows in
which they had been planting, Sandy straight-
ened himself up with an effort and said: This
is leg-weary work, is n't it, Oscar? I hate work,
anyhow," he added, discontentedly, leaning on
the top of his dibble and looking off over the
wide and green prairie that stretched toward the
setting sun. I wish I was an Indian."
Oscar burst into a laugh, and said, Wish you
were an Indian!-so you could go hunting





when you like and not have any work to do?
Why, Sandy, I did n't think that of you."
Sandy colored faintly and said, "Well, I do
hate work, honestly; and it is only because I
know that I ought, and that father expects me
to do my share, that I do it and never grumble
about it. Say, I never do grumble, do I,
Oscar?" he asked earnestly.
Only once in a while, when you can't help
it, Sandy. I don't like work any better than
you do; but it's no use talking about it, we've
got to do it."
I always feel so in the spring," said Sandy
sententiously and with a little sigh as he- went
pegging away down another furrow.

Forty acres of land was all that the settlers
intended to plant with corn, for the first year.
Forty acres does not seem a very large tract of
land to speak of, but when one sees the area
marked out with a black furrow and realizes
that every foot of it must be covered with the
corn-planter, it looks formidable. The boys
thought it was a very big piece of land when
they regarded it in that way. But the days soon
flew by, and even while the young workers were
stumping over the field, they consoled them-
selves with visions of gigantic ripe watermelons
and mammoth pumpkins and squashes. that
would regale their eyes before long. For, fol-
lowing the example of most Kansas farmers,



they had stuck into many of the furrows with
the corn the seeds of these easily grown vines.
"Keep the melons a good way from- the
pumpkins, and the squashes a good way from
both, if you don't want a bad mixture,' said
.Uncle Aleck to the boy settlers. Then he ex-
plained that if the pollen of the squash-blossoms
should happen to fall on the melon-blossoms,
the fruit would be neither good melon nor

yet good squash, but a poor mixture of both.
This piece of practical farming was not lost on
Charlie; and when he undertook the planting
of the garden spot which they found near the
cabin, he took pains to separate the cucumber-
beds as far as possible from the hills in which
he planted his cantaloup seeds. The boys were
learning while they worked, even if they did
grumble occasionally over their tasks.

(To be continued.)



"But thou and I are one in kind,
As moulded like, in Nature's mint;
And kill and wood and field didprint
The same sweet forms in either mind."- IN MEMORIAM.

THERE was a stream, low-voiced and shy;
So narrow was the lazy tide,
The reeds that grew on either side
Crossed their green swords against the sky.

And in the stream a shallow boat,
With prow thrust deep among the reeds
And broad stern wound with water-weeds,
Lay half aground and half afloat.

And in the boat, hand clasping hand,
Two children sat as in a dream,
Their eyes upon the lapsing stream,
Their faces turned away from land.

They cared not for a little rift
That came between them and the shore,
And softly widened more and more,
Till on the stream they lay adrift.

They murmured absently and low
That presently they must return
To their sweet stores of gathered fern,
And tinted pebbles ranged in row.

Through limpid pools they drifted slow,
They looked before and not behind,
And fancied still they heard the wind
That through the weeds went whispering low.

The lengthening ripples wore a crest-
The white foam grew beneath the stern,

Arid murmuring still, "We will return,"
The river bore them on its breast.

They hailed the homeward-flitting bee,
They smelled the rose upon the shore,
The current widened more and more,
The river bore them to the sea.

Now over ocean caves impearled
Unheedingly they drift and drift,
And know not that the little rift
Has widened into half the world.

And like the pearls in ocean caves
The vision of their lost delight
Is whelmed and flooded out of sight,
By thoughts on thoughts, like waves on waves.

And would they- what they never will,
And could they -what they never can,
Turn back through space as 't were a span,
And stand again beside the rill,

Its shallow rhythm, as it glides
Through tangled sedge and feathery ferns,
Would vex the wakening sense, that learns
The chant of winds, the sweep of tides.

Yet sometimes, when the wind is low,
And sunken treasure of the caves
Shines faintly upward through the waves,
The old thought rises even so.

And while they watch as in a dream
The circling drift of ocean-weeds,
They babble still of those green reeds
That crossed their swords above the stream.


W ho when e'er he
tried to ride him
Always threw
him o'er his



THE Misses Dysart lived in a large, roomy
house in one of the pleasantest of English coun-
try towns. They were amiable old ladies, always
doing good works and little kindnesses, and
greatly respected by the small circle in which
they moved.
think, Elizabeth," said Miss Dysart one
morning, as she and her younger sister were
comfortably sipping their tea, Ireally think we
.ought to ask poor Emily to come and stay with
-us. A little society would cheer her up, and
:she must be sadly worn out, caring for those
children. Either she's very careless with them,
-or they 're unusually susceptible, for they seem

to catch every complaint that exists, and to
have each one worse than the last."
"' Shoemaker's children are always the worst
shod,' you know," said Elizabeth apologetically
(her father used to say that if the arch-fiend
appeared in person, Bessie would find an excuse
for him). I suppose it's the same with doc-
tor's children !"
"I wish you would give up using such vul-
gar proverbs and would learn not to interrupt
me," replied her sister. "I was going to say
that if we do ask Emily, the best time would be
now, before the spring cleaning, and while there
would still be something going on to occupy


her"; and, rising from her clhair, like one who
had thoroughly made up her mind, she rang the
bell twice, for prayers (ringing once would -have
meant "bring coals"), and settled herself at the-
little table by the window, spectacles on nose.
Poor Emily was the wife of Miss Dysart's
youngest brother, and there really did seem to
be some truth in her sister-in-law's assertion
about the children. There were eight of them,
and, after a stormy autumn of whooping-cough,
they had all fallen easy victims to the measles,
which had been raging all winter in the neigh-
borhood where their father practised.
No doubt Mrs. Dysart was much to be pitied;
but when their unlucky children were all in bed
and asleep, she and her husband managed to
laugh merrily over the way the invitation was
No, Edward, I won't go away until we can
all go together, in spite of the attractions of
the bazar, and the three missionary meetings;
and oh! no your sisters are very kind, but
I couldn't suggest taking Arthur, or even Geor-
gie, with me. It puts them out so dreadfully,
and, besides, the children are so spoilt and wor-
ried. They 're far less trouble if left at home,
after all 's said and done."
At that moment the door opened and a little
girl of about ten came noiselessly into the room
in her night-gown. Her blue eyes were wide
open and her feet were bare.
Why, Rhoda, did you want me to tuck you
in ? said Mrs. Dysart softly, and without show-
ing any astonishment she took her little daugh-
ter by the hand and led her off to bed.
She came back in a few minutes with rather
an anxious look on her cheerful face.
"I was so afraid she 'd wake up and be fright-
ened. Caroline was sitting in the nursery sew-
ing, but she did not hear Rhoda go down."
"Numbers of children walk in their sleep,"
replied her husband reasoningly, as he cut the
pages of his paper, a medical journal.
Yes, I know I used to, myself; but I 'm
not happy about Rhoda. She 's grown so fast,
and this is such a trying time of year for chil-
dren when they 're not strong. I have an idea,
Edward. Do you think your sisters would take
her instead of me ? She 's very little trouble, and
the change to the south would do her all the

good in the world. I shall write this very night,
and ask them."
Mrs. Dysart was a marvel of promptitude when
once she made up her mind; and, in. less than
a week, Rhoda found herself driving up the
steep streets which led to her aunts' house, with
her modest little trunk, and a hamper of garden
stuff, turkeys' eggs, and last year's apples, on
the top of the cab. Her father had managed
to take two days' holiday to go with her, and
the journey had been great fun. There had
been the importance of an early breakfast in
the dining-room to begin with (though it was
only Mrs. Dysart's decided, Well, my dear, if
you really can't eat anything I shall not be able
to let you go," which had made Rhoda do jus-
tice to the unwonted luxuries of tea and bacon);
then followed a vision of white-gowned, sleepy
little brothers and sisters waving and kissing
their hands from the nursery window as the car-
riage drove away; and before long Rhoda was
glad to cuddle up to her father, and to sleep,
too, while he tucked the railway rug round them
both, and read his newspaper, and the train
crawled through the flat green meadows. It
- was midday when they reached London, and
as they drove through the crowded streets,
Rhoda innocently asked if it was market-day,
because there were so many people; to which
her father answered that it was always market-
day in London, and that the streets through
which they were passing were only a very little
bit of a very big city.
And then they were off again; only this time
it was in an express-train, and they were rush-
ing through a country most fair,--a country
which brought a light into her father's eyes she
had never seen there. He flung down the win-
dow, and pointed out, now Windsor Castle with
its gray tower and waving flag; now the silvery
reaches of the Thames, as it flashed for a mo-
ment into their sight, and then was lost among
the trees, to reappear again directly as if by
magic,-until they finally left it far behind, and
sped on and on, through tunnels and among
gray hills which looked mysterious in the fast
waning daylight. Rhoda was very tired and
sleepy when her father lifted her out of the cab
at her aunts' door. And now, little white-face,
you must pop into bed, and mind you 're to be


quite fat and rosy when you come home," said
Mr. Dysart, when their supper was over.
A few minutes later Aunt Elizabeth climbed
up the two flights of stairs to her small niece's
Good-night, darling; you feel qte'. at home,
don't you? and she gave the little girl a great
many kisses as she spoke.
"Oh, yes, Auntie;, thank you," said poor
Rhoda politely (though as a matter of fact she
had never feltless at home than at that moment,
and was secretly wishing herself back again in
her own lirtie room, with the friendly lights and
voices from the night nursery just opposite).
But things always look brighter by day than by
night; and, after the first wave of home-sicknesss
was over, Rhoda soon began to enjoy all the
strange sights of the town, and the beauty of
the neighboring scenery, which in her eyes
seemed, fairy-like after the flatness of her Own
fenland home.
One, wet Sunday afternoon she wrote this let-
ter to her favorite brother:
I go to a dancing-class now. Its a large one. And
once a week we don't do dancing but climb Ladders
and things instead. They are awfully easy ones, much
easier than the one up to the Hay-loft. I wish you
were here. There's a robin making a nest in the gar-
den behind the house. Its a very little Garden. Kiss
Tozer for me and do save me some of the best seeds
when Mother gets them. Your loving
And Archie wrote in answer:
DEAR RHODA: I very sorry I have n't written be-
fore. I gave your kiss to Tozer and he licked it off and
sniffed. We have found three thrushes nests and I sup-
pose you know that the one we found first was stolen
they have all got eggs in. I had the hickups last Sunday
in church but I found a very good way to stop them
which was to squash my handkerchief down my throat.
I am making a kettle-holder for the dining-room its a
pot with a lot of steam coming out of the lid and
grounded with red. I am your affectionate brother
Rhoda's father had forbidden her to study
lessons until she should grow stronger, but his
sisters', suggestion of dancirng-lessons he had
entirely approved.
"All young ladies ought to know how to
dance and to walk gracefully," said Miss Dysart,
as they were on their way to the academy where
the lessons were given, "and you are just com-

ing to the awkward age when such teaching
is most beneficial." .
Rhoda agreed, but as they entered the room
with its rows upon rons of girls, big and little,
she felt with dismay that she had reached the
awkward age already. Th is s my niece. Mr.
\\ashington," said Miss Dysart to the dancing
master, who came mincingly Ibrward with ius
best bow; and then, with fifty pairs of eyes
upon her, poor Rhoda had to confess that she
did not know even the frst position from the
third, and she was led away to be drilled among
the very tiniest ones, by a girl no taller than
We shall call for you again in an hour, my
dear," said her aunt; and Rhoda, whowas then
standing painfully on one shaking foot and
waving the other wildly in the air, tried to
smile an assent, with the result that she lost her
balance and nearly fell over backward.
Presently they all sat down for a rest, and
then the girls gathered into groups, and chat-
tered and laughed. Rhoda found a quiet cor-
ner, and watched them with open eyes, for there
were not many children near her own home, and
she had never seen so many girls, nor heard
the chatter of so many tongues Wagging at the
same time.
,;Her fancy was particularly taken by three
little girls, the eldest about her own age, the
youngest quite a tiny child, whose dainty danc-
ing she had watched with admiration. They
were sitting demurely by a French governess,
and were evidently sisters, for they were dressed
alike in pretty velvet frocks, with black silk
stockings and pointed shoes. Real, grown-up
shoes with heels," thought Rhoda, and she
sighed as she looked at her own ankle-strap san-
dals, which were new, and consequently half a
size too big. Her blue serge frock, too, with its
loose sailor-bodice and plain skirt, seemed some-
how out of place; although, had she known it,
it was really more suitable than many of the gay
costumes around her.
The dress question was troubling Miss Dysart,
for when she and her sister had paid their calls,
and were on their way to the academy, she
leaned back in the carriage and said:
I have been thinking about Rhoda's dresses,
Elizabeth. I- imagined, of course, she would


have a Sunday frock silk or poplin -but it
seems Emily bu ys a quantity of serge from the
coastguards, and dresses all her children in
it. Quite like a charity-school, and I shall tell
her so."
"No doubt poor Emily tries to be economi-
cal, and I think she said something about there
not being time to make a new frock," Miss
Elizabeth put in -ith her apologetic little cough.
"As Rhod a i our niece, she must no:t look
peculiar," continued Miss Dysart, disregarding
her sister, and I have been thinking about
those t%\ o shawls we had for' Edward's wedding.
We shall never wear such gay colors again, and
it seems a pity to keep them put away."
Miss Elizabeth was several years younger
than her sister, and she felt a secret yearning
after her shawl: but she was used to stifling
her own, wishes, so she murmured a faint as-
Very well, then we 'If see about it at once;
and the Bible-woman' shall make them up."
The shawls in question were of a soft cashmere
'material; Mrs. Dysart's being of a rich choco-
late color, while her sister's was of that bright
shade of pink, neither salmon nor rose, which
Was fashionable a good many years ago.
But.it happened that the ":Bible-woman"
was suffering from a bruised finger, and so the
making of the dress had to be postponed foria
little time.
Meanwhile Rhoda went on with the dancing-
lessons, and soon was able to take her place
among the girls of her own age; in the gym-
nasium she had been quite at home from the
beginning, thanks to her brother's training and
a pair of wiry arms.
Now, of all the children she met at the acad-
emy, the most fascinating to her were three
little sisters she had noticed there the first day.
Once she had the happiness of dancing with
the eldest of them, who told her that her name
was Violet St. Ives, that her father was in In-
dia, and that her mother had just taken a house
not very far from the one where the Misses
Dysart lived.
We have been here such a short time that
we know hardly any of the girls," she added, in
a pause of the latest polka.
I don't know any, either," said Rhoda. She

would gladly have continued the conversation
had not Violet's governess, who was sitting with
her embroidery at the other end of the room,
signaled to them to go on dancing, which they
accordingly did.
That day, as Rhoda was running upstairs to.
get ready for dinner, the housemaid, who was
young and friendly, paused in her scrubbing to
say, "Please, Miss, your dress is come. You '11
have something fine to wear now."
The Bible-woman was an excellent person
in her own profession, but as a dressmaker she
did not rank very high. She had done her best,
no doubt, and Rhoda had really stood very still
to be fitted, but when the little girl saw the
dress finished and laid out- on the bed, her
heart fairly sank within her;- The skirt had
been made of the pink material with a heavy
flounce of the chocolate laid on it, and there was
a chocolate polonaise with a good manylittlepink
bows dotted about it; and instead of doing up
simply as her frocks were always made, it fas-
tened with big buttons in the front and had a
bewildering number of tapes to tie at the back.
Rhoda's politeness was never so strained as
when she thanked her aunts for their kind pres-
ent; and that evening before going to bed,
when she looked at the frock hanging in the
big closet with the glass door, she could hardly
suppress a groan.
"I 'm afraid it 's going to be wet, Aunty,"
she said on the morning of the next dancing-
day, "so perhaps I 'd better put on my old
"I 'm glad to find you are so careful, my
dear," said Miss Dysart, approvingly; "but if
it rains you need not go on foot; so run along
and get ready."
Her last hope gone, and the rain being only
an April shower, she wriggled herself into the
objectionable frock and started, arriving at the
dancing-room just as the other girls were taking
their places.
They all looked up as she came in, and Rhoda
thought regretfully of her plain old dress, as the
big mirrors at each end of the room reflected
the pink and brown figure again and again with
cruel distinctness, while a faint smile was clearly
visible on several faces.
The three little sisters were there in pretty


new gray flannel frocks, and Rhoda was glad to
sneak into her place as far behind them as
Before long the exercises were over, and then
they all stood up for the quadrille. Rhoda
heard her name called, and, just at that moment
her partner, a big girl who had wished to dance
with someone else, whispered rather ill-naturedly,
"I think your dress is coming to bits"; she
turned round hastily to the mirror, and, sure
enough, there was a long white tape trailing on
the ground. In vain she stood upon one leg
and made a frantic grab at it. The "Bible-
woman's" sewing was conscientiously finished
off, and all the tugging seemed only to make
matters worse. She was in the act of tying it
up somehow, when the dancing-master's voice
sounded clearly through the room: "When you
have quite finished admiring yourself in the
glass, Miss Dysart, we shall all be glad to begin
the quadrille !"
There was a suppressed titter among the least
well-mannered of the girls, and poor Rhoda felt
her cheeks growing pinker than the unlucky
frock which was the cause of her confusion.
The hot tears bubbled up into her eyes; but
she was too proud to let them fall, although she
was young enough to feel that her whole life
was blighted by this cruel accusation. At last
the quadrille was over, and, while several ad-
vanced pupils stood up for a Spanish dance,
Rhoda sat down on the nearest seat and felt it
would have been a relief if the floor had opened
beneath her.
She was too miserable to notice that Violet
St. Ives had left her place to whisper something
to a lady who was sitting near, and she looked
up with surprise when the same lady came and
sat down by her.
I think you must be the little Rhoda about
whom Violet has told me ? "
Rhoda nodded assent, and the lady went on:
"Well, I 'm her mother, and I used to know
your father when I was a little girl,-ever so
many years ago. I 'm afraid your aunts will
have forgotten all about me, but I must ask
them if they will let me call on them, and per-
haps they would spare you to come to tea with
us some day."
Rhoda's cheeks turned pink again, but this

time it was with pleasure, "Oh, I should like to
come very much," she said quickly, losing all her
shyness as she looked into the face beside her;
for she thought she had never seen one so kind
or so pretty.
"And now," said Mrs. St. Iv'es, after a few
more friendly words, speaking to Rhoda quite
as if addressing one of her own children, stand
up, and let me see if I can mend your frock for
you. I don't think there 's any great damage
done. There! That 's all right now"; and
then, as the. lesson was over, she added:
"Good-by; I must go and find my chicks, but
we shall meet again before very long." Mrs.
St. Ives was as good as her word; and, though
Miss Dysart said it was a very unusual thing to
call before you had been called upon, she re-
ceived her most graciously, and it was agreed
that Rhoda might join the St. Ives children in
their daily walk.
They will so much enjoy having her !" Mrs.
St. Ives said, as she rose to take her leave, and
I will tell Mademoiselle to look out for her to-
morrow." Mademoiselle was punctual to the
moment, and Rhoda thought she had never taken
so pleasant a walk,-though at first she was
rather awed by their all chatting together in
French, until Violet kindly put her at her ease.
"There's nothing in our knowing French,"
she said; "we 've been in France so often, and
Mademoiselle has been our governess such a
long time. I expect you know ever so much
more arithmetic than we do. And what fun it
must be when one has brothers! Do tell us
about yours."
After that Rhoda spent few lonely days; for
her new friends seemed always to have on foot
some pleasant plan in which she must share.
It was Mrs. St. Ives, too, who got Miss Dysart's
consent to her having another new dress; though
how she brought it about, Rhoda never quite
knew. But one day she was sent for by her
aunt, and as she entered the drawing-room she
caught the words: Just now I 'm employing
a very nice young girl who had been obliged to
leave service on account of her health. So it
would be quite a charity if you could find her a
little work. She has the pattern of that gray
frock of Violet's that you liked. It would suit
Rhoda nicely. Why, here she is!" And be-



fore she knew what had happened Mrs. St. Ives This is the frock, Mother," said Rhodafas
had carried her off to be measured. together they were unpacking the trunk the
At last the visit came to an end, and Rhoda's night of her arrival home. "Need I wear it?
trunk was so filled with treasures for the little It's so dreadfully ugly,. and I know that the
ones, and keepsakes for herself, that she was boys will be sure to laugh at me in it!"
"No, dear, I don't
think so," replied
her mother kindly.
"Pink and brown
will both take blue,
Sso we '11 have it
dyed a dark navy,
and you yourself
'i shall make it up for
1l, dCaroline's younger
I sister."
The friendship be-
tween Rhoda and
Violet proved a last-
ing one; and no
summer was con-
sidered complete un-

few weeks of it in
the Dysarts' country-
house, where she
was taught to play
cricket, to care for
the babies, and even
to climb the ladder
1I-, up to the hayloft"
with an agility which
would have terrified
poor Mademoiselle
into hysterics. And
every winter Rhoda
returned the visit.
._- ... _- It is a very old
joke between the
two girls, but even
obliged to borrow a box for her less interesting tive, Violet is sure to say: When you 've quite
possessions. Violet and she broke a threepenny finished admiring yourself, Miss Dysart"; and
bit between them by way of a farewell ceremony, the funny thing about it is that Rhoda does not
and many were the tears shed on both sides. mind it at all!



ON the western coast of Green-
land is a settlement called Uper-
navik. It is peopled partly by
Eskimos and partly by Danes.
In this settlement dwelt a Danish
clergyman, Olaf Neilson by name,
with a son and a daughter: Oscar,
eighteen years old, and Hilda,
Early in June of each year, it was the custom
of the good clergyman Olaf to make a tour up
or down the coast for a distance of about one
hundred miles, preaching during his absence to
the natives in their own tongue, and to the
Danes in Danish.
In early summer, Oscar frequently went hunt-
ing walrus and seal, with his gun or spear. It
is well known that this cold, cheerless coast is
never without icebergs. In the winter they are
found in Baffin's Bay, and movea little north-
ward or southward at each turn of the tide. In
summer many move close to the coast, or start
away on a tour through southern waters. One
June an iceberg thus drifted straight to the
mouth of the harbor of Upernavik. There it
grounded, and the in-shore wind pressed it with
great force up into the jaws of the harbor. So
large was the mass that the wind blowing in
from it was chilled to below the freezing point,
and nipped all the flowers, buds, and grasses
that had appeared in the valley. The sun
honeycombed it, and left huge dark caves in
many parts close to the water's edge, and into

these caverns the sea went booming with a great
sound. Oscar and Hilda went off in their kayak
to see it; and they noticed that the quiet pools
which had formed in the caves were the resort
of seals and walruses during part of the day.
"I shall have some good spearing there,"
said Oscar, as they turned their kayak toward
home. So he ground his spear sharp, and oiled
the barbs at the point, which was shaped like
an arrow; bert n ii e\ line to the handle and the
next day set out alone in the kayak. Mean-
while, Hilda went up the valley for the goats.
Her parting words to her brother were to be
careful and to keep watch for bears, as this was
a favorite haunt of the shaggy and fierce polar
bear. These insatiable brutes prowled about
the rocks constantly during the day, pouncing
upon and rending the unsuspecting seals. At
night they hid themselves among the scrub-firs
and white birches, and many a defenseless rein-
deer went down under a blow of their cruel paws.
Pulling his kayak up on the rocks, Oscar
proceeded out to the berg. In its contact
with the reefs and rocks, several blocks of ice
had become detached from the main body, and
these, driven in by the wind and sea, formed a
bridge between the land and the chill island of
ice. Round about the berg a number of black
heads were constantly bobbing above the sur-
face, and here and there Oscar could make out
the ungainly form of a walrus. The black heads
were those of seals.
The base of the berg was not less than two


acres in area, and from it rose to a considerable
height t\o columns of dark-blue ice somewhat
reenmbling tov~ers in form. One of these was
honeycombed at the base, and through the
sides of the low flat mass upon which the
towers rested were various openings, so that
when an ocean swell came rolling in, it went
through these perforations with a piping sound.
Several seals and walruses passed in and out
through them, during the time Oscar sat upon
a huge ice-block thinking out his best course of
action. He decided that he would enter the
main cave in the ice tower, hide there, and wait.
Moving along carefully, with the coil of line
hanging upon his shoulder and the spear in his
hand, he entered the dim, cold cave. It was
hollowed out irregularly, and resembled a cave
in a cliff where the rock is rent and you are not
sure but that a boulder will fall upon you at any
moment. The open space, Oscar told me, was
about forty feet square, and in the center of it,
dipping eight or ten feet below the floor of the
passage-way, was a deep pool of water covering
about half the area of the floor of the cave.
Into this a large, square block of ice had fallen
from the roof.
How fortunate its presence was will soon
Oscar crouched down on the cold gray ice,
his spear grasped in his hand, and his coil of
rope lying beside him with one end fastened
to his wrist. A gurgling sound, as of hurrying
water on the other side of the pool, came to
him, and he watched and listened to make out
the cause. Presently he saw two round black
heads disappear as if they had gone through
the ice at the place whence the sound came,
and then four or five other heads, of seals bobbed
up, as if they had entered the little lake from
that point. He knew then that it must be a
passage leading to the sea.
' But while the gurgling sound of the water
came to him from the pool, he heard a slighter
and different noise coming from the mouth of
the cave by which he had entered. Turning,
he saw, to his unspeakable horror, a huge polar
bear,, its shaggy hide dripping water! The
beast had seen him and was hulking along
toward him. Oscar turned and faced it for a
moment but what could he do with his spear

against such an assailant? The spear could
never go through that shaggy coat and thick
hide. How the animal's claws spread and
stretched over the ice as it came along!
There was no use now in repenting his folly
in not having brought his father's heavy gun.
What was he to do ? All this passed like light-
ning through his mind. He quickly retreated
a short distance, but he was stopped by the pool
which at one point touched the side of the cave.
The bear still hulked toward him, and in the
dim light of the place its eyeballs smoldered
like phosphorescent flame. Nearer and nearer
it came, now crouching lower, its muzzle thrust
out, and its claws stretching farther than ever
from its feet.
There was only one course. Oscar sprang
into the icy water, and in three or four strokes
was close to the ice-cube. His spear and coil
of rope were upon his shoulder, and by driving
the spear into the hard blue cube he was enabled
to get uponit. It was just large enough to bear
his weight; but he was obliged to stand very
still on the middle of it to prevent it from heel-
ing to one side and sliding him into the water.
It was almost as dark as night in the pool,
and Oscar could see the two glowering eyes of
the bear looking down upon him. He thought
no more of spearing seal or walrus. What if
the bear should plunge down? It would be
well, Oscar thought, for he could jump off the
ice-cube, land on the farther side, scale the
rough ice with the aid of his spear, and escape
by the way he had come before the bear could
overtake him. But the beast did not come into
the pool. It turned away from the brink, and
for two hours two hours of wet, and cold,
and terror Oscar did not see the bear again.
Perhaps it had left the cave when it found
that it had lost its prey.
Then Oscar resolved to go to the top again
and sprang into the water, climbing hastily by
the easiest way to the floor of the cavern. To
his utter dismay he saw the great brute lying
on the ice close to the cave's mouth! Its in-
stinct had taught it tlhat the prey of which it
had been balked could go in and out only by
this opening. It did not look toward the pool,
but lay there dozing or sleeping, now and again
moving its head or one of its legs.


Hour after hour passed, until Oscar knew that
it must be late in the afternoon, for the sun shone
yellow on the ice beyond the mouth of the
cavern. Still his savage jailer made no move;
still Oscar sat, not moving from the lump of ice,
thinking of the terror of Hilda at his long
absence. Still another hour went by,
and the golden glow on the ice
outside began to turn to gray, for /

-. -.

disappeared, making after this new prey, and
you may be sure Oscar was not long in getting
outside of this terrible dungeon. The bear was.
at a safe distance from him, pursuing the seal,

/."' K

It c~

? iw -

the sun was below the hills that sheltered
The horror of the situation was now plain
before Oscar's eyes. The bear could exist days
and days without food, and might remain where
it was for that length of time. And what was
to become of him He murmured the prayers
his father had taught him, and tried to be calm.
But how could he ?
Another half-hour of terror passed, and then
Oscar saw the bear spring to its feet, thrust out
its head, and make for the opening of the cav-
ern. Oscar held his breath, and, peering out,
saw a seal slowly crossing the great ice plat-
form, making for the rocks. The bear swiftly

which was still making its way up the rocks
toward the spot where Oscar had left his
What was Oscar's amazement, presently, to
see the seal stand up, throw back the fur from
its head and shoulders and turn into a girl!-
yes, into his own dear sister Hilda!
She shouted aloud and waved her handker-
chief. The bear, evidently disconcerted, turned,
ran lumberingly up a gplch, and disappeared
into a tangle of ground-firs.
When-the brother and sister met their joy was
so great that neither could speak a word. Hilda,
borrowing another kayak, had come to look for
Oscar, and had seen the bear at the mouth of
the cave. At once suspecting the cause of her
brother's absence, she went home, got the skin,
and personated a seal, with the complete suc-
cess I have recorded.
This good, kind family are still in Greenland,
and their names are always mentioned with af-
fection and almost with reverence by the people
of that cold and desolate coast.





MY grandma says that little boys
Make too much noise -
Considering of course their size.
She 's very wise !
I think the birds up in the trees,
The chippy-wees,
Are noisier by far than I,
And don't half try.
And then the noise made on the pane
By drops of rain,
That patter early, patter late,
Is very great!
And so, I say, it seems to me,
To noisy be
Is what you should expect at all
Times, from the small.



I JUST wish of eggs, or a lot of pretty yellow and pink
you had Susy lichen from the swamp,-Jack and I make
for a sister a frames for photographs out of it on rainy days.
Little while, And sometimes it 's a rattlesnake's rattle, or a
sothat you'd set of quills some little darky has made out of
see exactly brake-cane. Harry can play "Johnny in the
how trying Low Grounds," and "H'ist them Diamond
j she can be. Windows," just splendidly on the quills.
She does sew But the greatest fun was when he brought
pretty dolls' that tin bucket, and would n't tell us what was
Sclothes-the in it, all the way up to the house, and we guessed
bodies fitting and guessed, and never got it right until he took
S, 4 so closely off the cover, and there were three darling little
and the over- alligators each no longer than a pencil. We just
I skirts hang- screamed, we were so pleased. They crawled
ing so beautifully- and she can set the tea-table all over each other, poked up their dear little
for our dolls' parties, so that all the girls say, noses, and winked. We rushed in to show them
"Why, Annie! I should think you 'd be glad to mama, but Susy would n't let us stay.
to have such a sister,"- and of course I am, "Take out those dreadful little brutes, in-
but then they don't know what aggravating stantly !" That 's exactly what she said and
things she says. I suppose I've been real mad she said, Oh! how horribly that swamp-mud
with Susy about the alligators as many as. a smells," and then she sprinkled cologne round
dozen times. She hurt my feelings about them the room. That's all the consideration she has
nearly every day until the poor little darlings for my feelings.
died. She used to call them, Those ill-smell- We took them out to the kitchen, and played
ing little saurians of yours," until I 'd cry. with them there. Aunt Patsey always lets us
The way we came to have the alligators was do anything we please in the kitchen. She lets
this. You see, whenever papa comes home in us roll out biscuits, and cut out cookies, and
the evening, he brings something for us in his mark the pie-crusts with a fork. She 's just the
pockets. As soon as we hear the big plantation- nicest cook I ever was acquainted with.
bell ring at sundown, for the hands to come in So Jack sawed off the bottom of a keg -the
from work, we run down to the gate by the one that used to have molasses in it and we
road that goes to the quarters, and wait for papa. put some mud in it and poured in a lot of water,
We can see all the negroes coming in from the and put in a chunk of wood for the alligators to
cane-fields with their hoes over their shoulders, come and sit on. They were just as happy as
Well, when we see them coming in we know they could be. Their skins were n't hard and
papa will be coming, in a minute. Soon he scaly like the old alligators'; they were all shiny
rides up on his big black horse, and Jack and and black, with yellow stripes down their backs,
Harry and I go tearing out to meet him. and white below. And they had beautiful pink
When he gets down and hitches "Wanderer" to mouths, where you could see the teeny-tiny
the orange-tree by the gallery, we search in teeth that are so sharp and dreadful when they
his pockets and always find something -he has are grown up.
brought for us in them-maybe different sorts They'd swim around and poke up their heads,


and blink their eyes, and eat all the flies and oat-
meal we 'd give them. And they were such nice
pets, because if.we forgot to feed them for a
week it did n't make a bit of difference, they got
on just as well. But one night it was awfully
cold, and the next morning they, were frozen
into the water. They had come to the top -
poor darlings! and only their precious noses
were sticking out above the ice.
Oh, how we cried! Harry just howled.
But papa -heard us, and called to us to bring
them into the sitting-room by the fire. We
laid them down on the rug and moved the fen-
der and let all the fire shine right on them, and
in about two minutes they began to twitch their
tails, and then they squirmed a little and began
to kick their feet, and in half an hour they were
just as well as ever. Then they commenced to
chase each other round the rug, and that was the
way we found out they could play; and every
morning after that we brought them into the
sitting-room and had a regular romp. They 'd
get under the chairs, and when we called to
them they'd rush out at us with their mouths
wide open, and with such a funny little, squeak.
I tetl you we just loved those alligators! We
liked them better than our rabbits, or the guinea-
pigs, or the red-birds, or any of the pets we'd
ever had. I want to tell you how they died,
but it almost always makes me cry to talk about
it. Susy says: "Yes, that's always the way.
You call some unfortunate creature a pet, and
after half killing it with kindness you eventually
succeed in entirely killing it by neglect."
Eventually Susy does use such big words.
Well! we did n't anything of the sort. It was
just because Jack and I were too kind and
careful that they were that they died.
It grew very cold one Saturday night, and papa
said he thought it was going to freeze; so when
half undressed we thought about the -alligators,
ran down-stairs and brought them into the warm
kitchen. Jack opened the oven and said:
"S'pose we put them in here, Annie. Just
think how warm they '11 keep all night!"
So we put the alligators in one of the tin
buckets filled with water, and set it inside the
Next morning when Aunt Patsey came, she
never thought of looking in the oven, but just

built the biggest kind of a fire, and when we
came down and rushed and opened the door,
there were our darling alligators boiled! All a
dull pink, and floating on their backs with their
poor little feet raised up so pitifully as if begging
some one to help them. We all cried so we
could n't eat any breakfast, and we cried until
Susy got them ready to be buried. Susy was
very good then; she made them look lovely.
She got one of papa's empty cigar-boxes and
covered all the bottom with violets, and laid
the alligators all in a row on their backs, with
their tails twined lovingly together, and little
bunches of violets clasped in their poor paws.
Then I tied a long black band on each of the
boys' hats, and Jack took the spade, and Harry
carried the box, and I came after in Susy's long
black cloak, mama's old crape veil over my
head, and crying into a big white handker-
chief. And then came Aunt Patsey's Mandy
-the little negro girl who waits on me; she
rang the dinner-bell as slowly and solemnly as
she could. She wore no mourning, being black
We buried them under the cedar-tree where
the periwinkles grow in summer, and sprinkled
violets over their grave, and Mandy sang a song
she knew. It did n't seem very appropriate to
a funeral, but it was the only one we knew about
alligators, so we had to use it. It 's a very
queer song. This is the way it goes:

Swimmin' in der river, des afo' de day,
W'at yer think my mammy hear der alligators say?
"Get 'long home, ol' lady; better get 'long home,
Kaze we gwine ter bite yer foot off, en chaw up all der
"We gwine ter eat er little pig, we gwine ter eat er fish;
Gwine ter eat em wid er knife en fork, off er gre't big
gol'en dish."
But it had a nice lonesome sort of tune, and
we all sang the last verse together. We set up
a pasteboard tombstone, and Susy wrote on it:
Here 'Lie
Slimy, Scaly, and Crawly.
Cut Off
In the flower of their Youth and Beauty
By a too Ardent Affection.
I think that sounds just splendid. Susy cer-
tainly can write nice tombstones.


- 11C

3y./b\yrg ret Vond egrift'

A LITTLE dinner party was in progress down
While above-stairs, in the nursery, was a lonely
little Fred.
"There is nothing left to do !" he sighed. "That
clock is very slow,
And when nurse does. finish supper, she will
put me straight to bed!

" Now, if they 'd let me play with that! "-he looked
up on the wall,
And gently pushed a chair along before him, as
he spoke-
" I really would not mischief it, or worry it, at all,
And I feel quite pretty certain I could mend it,
if it broke!" !

About five minutes after this, the door-bell rang,
and low
The servant to the master 'whispered, "Sir,
he 's at the door--
The messenger, you rang for." Replied the
master, No;
He 's made some stupid blunder." And he
thought of it no more.

Five minutes passed; a sound of wheels;
the servant came to say,
"The carriage is a-waiting, sir,- belike
it 's come too early,
But the man is very positive you rang for
a cuppay."
I did n't," said the master, and his look
and tone were surly.


In the same mysterious manner a policeman
came and went,
And a doiublultul look was.growing now, upon
the master's face;
An idea had occurred to him of what the ,
* mystery meant, '
And he was just preparing to follow up the
trace -


When, lo "A burst of thunder-sound,"- the
engine drew up proudly,
Close followed by the hose-cart; and dire
confusion grew.
But the master from his door-step by shouting
wildly, loudly,
__ Was in time to stop the deluge, and 't was
all that he could do.

Straightway to the alarm he went, and captured Master Freddy,
Who sobbed, I only gave it such a little, little jerk!
I did n't mean to start it-just to try if it was ready i-
I wanted -.all I wanted was to see if it would work! "



THE handsome horse shown in our illustra-
tion rejoices in the possession of the longest
foretop, mane, and tail in the world. He was
born about seven years ago in the State of Ore-
gon, and when about four years old his mane
and tail grew so rapidly--often as much as
three inches a month that in three years they
reached their present astonishing growth. His
tail is now nine feet long; his foretop is five and
one-half feet long; while his mane measures
exactly seven feet and ten inches.

Linus is perfectly formed and weighs about
fourteen hundred pounds. His "body color"
is a glossy golden chestnut; he has white hind
feet and a white face, and his mane, tail, and
foretop are of a soft flaxen color. His hair, which
is done up when he is not receiving visitors,
continues to grow, though now very slowly.
Aside from his remarkable hair, Linus is cer-
tainly a beautiful animal. He is proud, carries
his head high, and enjoys admiration with all
the intelligence and pride of his race.



JUST beyond Cape Lisburne, on the Arctic
coast of Alaska, some-five hundred miles above
Behring Straits, are extensive coal mines. The
coal is easily mined, and the Arctic whale-
ships make these mines a rendezvous.
In midsummer there is a period of a few
weeks when little or no whaling can be done
on account of the ice. During this period
a "tender" arrives from San Francisco' with
supplies of fresh provisions, the mail, etc., and
carries back whatever whalebone and oil the
whalers may have secured.
The arrival of the tender is the most impor-
tant and most looked-forward to of any event
of the season, as she is the only link that con-
nects the whalemen with the outside world
during a period of eight or nine months.
This midsummer period is during the time
of the midnight sun, and there is continuous
daylight for about six weeks.
In 1887, twenty-three whale-ships lay at anchor
off these mines. Shifts of men were working
during the twenty-four hours of continuous day-
light, laying in coal for the coming cold days
and nights of autumn. Every one of the eight
hundred and fifty, or more, men frequently
scanned the horizon, eager for the appearance
of the tender; for it was the middle of. July,
and not a word had been heard from home since
the middle of March. Day after day the sun
had coursed around the horizon, but not dipped
below it. One vessel after another laid in its
supply of coal, and was anxious to be off, but
still no tender came. She was due the first week
in July, but the 12th, i3th, i4th, and i5th of
the month came, and yet no news from her.
Regular watches were kept on board the
vessels 'as if the sun rose at five o'clock in
the morning and set at six at night. Even our
rooster clung to his old habits and slept through
the night of daylight, not deigning to crow

until between four-and five o'clock in the morn-
ing. The various masters, anxious to be off,
met first on this vessel, then on that, to discuss
the delay in the arrival of the tender and to
decide upon a united course of action in case
she did not appear soon.
Toward noon on the i6th, a faint mirage was
seen off the Cape. Very little air was stirring,
and the mirage grew more and more distinct
until the tender was see i in every spar and
sail, as clearly outlined in the smooth sea as
if drawn on glass. But she was keel up !
Three hours later,,the vessel's hull was in full
view above the horizon. She was under full
sail with flags and colors at the mastheads,
bearing the joyous signal of news from home.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before she
reached her anchorage. Not to waste any
time, the captain had a boat lowered, and
before the tender's anchor was let go, we were
No words can describe the situation or our
feelings as we reached the deck. Hands were
shaken, a few anxious inquiries hurriedly made,
and then each man betook himself to some
quiet corner with his letters, to read the mes-
sages from the loved ones at home.
As I sat on the rail, looking astern of the
vessel, dreamily picturing scenes at home, I
looked out over the vast expanse of ocean.
Here and there floated a cake of ice. All was
so still, so solemn, yet in tune with my thoughts.
The short, choppy sea kept the rudder creaking.
The sun, far above the horizon, cast a clear, yel-
low light-so clear that the distant hills on
shore were distinct in every contour and the
rigging of every vessel riding at anchor on
the short, rolling sea was sharp in outline.
With my camera resting on my knee, I took
an instantaneous photograph as the sun came
out from behind a veil of clouds and cast its long

Entirely wrapped in my reverie, I sat
watching the ceaseless sea, and the glow
of the sunlight, thinking only of the world
so many thousands of miles away. Four
months of hardship and danger were yet ahead
of us. This little craft would carry our mes-
sages home, but with her would go all com-
munication with the world until we ourselves
entered port. What changes might these
months bring forth!
"Man the Lucretia's' boat," was the rude
intrusion upon my reverie, and five strong oars
were soon carrying us to our own vessel.
As the captain and I came over the rail, the
man at the wheel struck eight bells.
"Just midnight," said the captain.
"And here is the midnight sun," I added.
Suiting my action to my words, I took another
picture looking off toward the vessels that lay
straining gently at their anchor-cables.
Yellow as the light was, both pictures came
out well. Fine detail may be lacking; but the
PHOTOGRAPH OF THE TENDER, IN TOW. TAKEN pictures bring back a flood of recollections as
JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT. they recall the dangers of that season in the
sheen over the sea from the horizon almost to Arctic, and our entire isolation from home,
the very stern of the vessel. civilization, and the world.



"i4i L
_ 1 / /
F ^^^i/7
'*^/// ^ Va r- 9" YWK\


ONCE upon a time a little boy was sent to
dancing-school with great regularity by his
mama. She loved him very much and wished
to see him accomplished in all things, and espe-
cially in dancing, which perhaps she esteemed
unduly and above things more useful. However
that may have been, every day she compelled
him to practice his steps. Now, this little boy
had no taste for the saltatory art, to use'a high-
flown term; He liked better to skip and jump
about in time with his own music, which, al-
though it lacked both time and tune, suited his
ideas of dancing to a T. And I am sorry to be
obliged to record the following circumstance.
Every time his mama said, Now, my son, let
us see you dance," something like a groan came
from the lips of Bobby, and-worse and still
worse-he showed a disposition to make terms
with his mother to his own advantage. It would
be something like this:
"Well, Mama, if I dance ten miinutes, can I
do as I like' all the rest of the day ?"
His poor mama became very weary of all
this; but her resolution was firm, and every
day she asked Bobby to dance. But every day
Bobby groaned the same deep, heartfelt groan,

and made as little progress as possible in danc-
ing. Now, groans are well enough in their way
and, for certain occasions, quite appropriate;
but-what in the..world have they to do with
dancing ? Bobbl 's mama often told him to
save them fur a niore fitting occasion, which
he would be sure to find sooner or later.
But Bobby must not be too severely blamed.
He considered dancing simply a great bore,
and before he knew it, his sighs had grown
into groans. This bad habit had been formed,
and, taking kindly to it at first, he, soon came
to love it for its own sake. The groans, feelingly
and heartily given with a will and a "go"
quite heartfelt (not to say lively), might have
led some other little boy, looking on, to believe
that Bobby was making a study of the Art of
Groaning, and that the queer movement of his
feet he made afterward was only a strange way
of expressing satisfaction at his skill.
SAt last the year was drawing to. a close, and
therefore, of course, Christmas was coming!
Bobby had always liked Christmas. Santa
Claus divined his wishes unerringly the things
he most longed for were always on the Christ-
mas tree, just to his liking.





On this Christmas-eve, as he lay pondering,
it occurred to him that he had seen scarcely
any preparation for the great day so near at

hand, and for a moment his heart misgave him.
While he still hated dancing, he truly wished
he had not been so bold in expressing his dis-
like of it, nor quite so open in exhibiting his
disgust in presence of his mama, who eyi-
dently had a good memory. As he lay think-
ing, thinking vaguely, while listening to the rain
falling softly and soothingly for all this hap-
pened in a country where it rains in winter he
fancied he heard a noise in the hall.
He arose and opened the door. Santa Claus

had not forgotten him!- for there, under his
very eyes, was a beautiful box, with his name
in large silver letters on the top. On one side,
just beneath an inscription, was an opening;
and on the other side was a button.
Bobby looked at this box. It might be en-
chanted, or bewitched. Certainly, it was no
ordinary affair, with a lock and key. Oh, no !
it had an air all its own and was surely made
to order. He lifted it and brought it inside
his door where he dropped it so suddenly that
one would have thought it was very hot. It,
was not; but Bobby had heard the sound of
mysterious movements within, and the next in-
stant a great groan issuing from the box set
Bobby's teeth to chattering and the cold chills
to creeping over his body. This groan seemed
to have a body. It was so complete in itself,
so plain and dismal and peculiar. And on its
heels came other groans, and others still: big,
little, round, flat, long, short,-all making just
such an uproar as an assemblage of groans,
caught alive and caged together without regard
to their feelings, would make if handled too
roughly by a careless person.
Bobby knew them-knew them all. He
did n't think it necessary to pretend he did n't,
or to try and get out of it in any way. He was
face to face with his own folly.
And the worst was not yet, for the- inscrip-
tion said: "If you would know more, press
the button." Know more ? Aye, there was
the rub He knew enough already; but yet-.
He looked out of the window; he sat down;
he looked out again, and, turning it all over
in his mind, he sat down once more, and reso-
lutely pressed the button! Forth from the
opening in the box, emerged a form, dim,
shadowy, but yet defined. It paused a mo-
ment; a huge groan came from its pale lips, it
sprang into the air, and, dancing a half meas-
ure, placed its thin hand .to its brow, cracked
its heels together-"6, 7, 8 "-and was gone!
The Cracovienne had been Bobby's especial bite
noire, and now, as danced by a visible groan,
it took on even a color of witchery that
startled, if it did not frighten him. The
Highland Fling groan, a shade less com-
bative in quality, and clad in a costume
plainly national, shook its plaid, and heeled-



.-- --r


and-toed away to nothing, without grace, but
with skill. Then came a groan which Bobby
recognized as the ghost of that uttered by him-
self because of his disgust when called upon to
perform the Sailor's Hornpipe. The mourn-
ful "Yo,--heave, ho-o-o!" with which the

airy sprite pulled up the anchor, tugged at
the ropes, waved its handkerchief in adieu to
friends ashore, and shuffled out of sight, was all
only too familiar to poor Bobby. And close in
its wake, just a little less deep and a little
more refined in sound, was the Cachucha.
The real spirit of the Cachicha, Bobby had
never caught, nor even felt; his Yankee legs
had always failed to give the Spanish rhythm.
Now, to mock him for his blindness and lack of
success, its proper grace was revealed to him at
a glance when the fantastic vision, entering with
a sigh rather than groan, bent its supple body
to the strains of music unheard by mortal ears,
and bowed its exit to the mysteries of nowhere.
The stately Minuet, the Waltz, the Polka,
the Schottische, came and went,- each, with
aerial grotesqueness, posing a moment before
following its predecessor into space.
Bobby was too profoundly amazed to note
many things; but now that the play had been
played, he remembered with a thrill of horror
that each specter, as it sprang from the box,
bore his own features as he had seen them in
a looking-glass. Certainly, sowing groans was
a task pleasanter than the reaping thereof!-
and just as he resolved to turn over a new leaf,
promising himself "never to do so again," a
hand shook him and a voice called out: "Hello,
Bobby, awake out of that nightmare and come
down to welcome Santa Claus!"
It has been said, by those who know best, that
Bobby became a graceful dancer, and that to this
day he has never forgotten just how those ghostly
dancers looked as they came from the box.




The quaint and interesting diary from which these extracts are taken was kept by a little girl only ten
years old, and of her own accord, as a record of her travels last year through Egypt, Italy, and
Greece. The selections here given are printed, word for word, as they were written.
CAIRO, February ro, 1890.
LAST Thursday Miss got up a donkey ride for all of us. At two o'clock in the after-
noon we started. There were about a dozen people not counting ourselves. We went through
the Citadel into the desert where after a ride of about half an hour we reached a ruined mosque.
We dismounted our donkeys and went inside. After we looked around inside we went up some
very narrow stairs without a railing. When we got half way up we stepped on the roof of part
of the mosque. Then we went up another flite of steps into the dome where there was a beau-
tiful view. I saw little children playing in old Cairo. I saw women with great big jars on
their heads. And I saw men and little boys running after donkeys. All these things were very
small because we were so far away from them. The day after that we went to the Moosky
on donkeys and we left the donkeys in the Moosky while we went in the slipper Bazar. Fraulein
bought three pairs of red slippers, Helen bought one pair and I bought one pair. Then we went
right home ...
It is a very pictures view in the Moosky indeed. Some Arabs are dressed in a blue night-
gown with sometimes nothing under them and sometimes they have little white pants on. The
rich ones are dressed with silks, white or brown stockings, mostly
with a brown mantle thrown over their shoulders and new
red slippers on. The women have mostly all veils on
except the poor ones. The nose-spool is a round piece
of wood with brass rings around it. The nose-piece
is black crepe and goes down to their feet. The
rich women have fine embroided slippers and a
great big black silk cloth around them some-
times gathered around their wastes and some-
times pined upon their head just to keep it from
dragging in the dust. Some of them are dressed
in white. The very rich ones are dressed in black
silk with a very thin muslin nose-piece. Many Arab
women are white, some are black some are brown.
I went in a mud-hut and it looked as dirty to us as
,"IT Is it could be; but I suppose it is clean to the Arabs. ...
A Ve.v
PIcTURsK Feb. 17.
VIEW IN THE MOOSKY." I will only describe the howling and whirling dervishes. First we
went to the whirling dervishes. After we had been sitting around the circle the dervishes came in
one after another. The first one was the sheakh. He was a very ol'd man and he had a great
big hump on his back. He was clothed in a brown mantle thrown over his shoulders and
he walked very, very slowly indeed. His step was about a half a foot long. After they
all were in they sat down on the prayer mats. Then they all came and bowed to the sheakh
then they began whirling. It was beautiful to see their white skirts all stand out. They stuck
out as if they were made to stick out. Every one, of them held their right palm of the hand down
and the left up towards heaven.
Then they stopped and all sat down on their mats again. They did this same thing over


several times. The second time we went away to the howling dervishes. When we got there
it was quite crowded and after a while the door opened and everybody went in. We had
not been sitting there long when the dervishes came in. When they had all seated themselves
they began to say Alla, Alla. First they said it very slowly and soft and then they said it louder
and faster more louder and faster. They shook their heads every time they said anything from one
side to the other and every time they said it loud and fast they would shake them very violently
indeed. Some of them had strangling long hair. I thought the sheakh was very good looking.
He had a very pretty little son there with him and when we went out he made such a broad
smile at us. One of the men got kind of crazy and he made a frightful noise and called Alla,
Alla. The Arab right next to him took ahold of him all through until the end. They did
the same things over and over again. When it was through we went home to the Hotel.

ATHENS, February 28th.
We arrived in Athens this morning at about ten o'clock. I did not write about Alexandria.
We left Cairo at half-past nine on Monday morning for Alexandria and arrived there at one o'clock
in the afternoon. I forgot to write about the piller which we went to first. It was a very high
polished stone. The top of it is carved as many other things are. The next day in the afternoon
we took a carriage and drove out to the Khedives palace. It was a miserable thing out-side and
the painting was horrible; but the inside was very nice looking indeed. Papa received permission
to go inside and bring us in too. An Arab servant took us up a very simple stairs and through a little
door into a big room, with chairs and divans all around it and a carpet in the middle. Then we went
through a hall into a very wide and long room, through this big room and into his writing-room.
The floor was beautiful polished Ebony. Then the man took us into another rodm which was


his washing-room. The curtains were made of beautiful silk embroiderd with gold and everything
else of the same colors. Then we went into the dancing-room. The floor was very highly pol-
ished and they had a great big dome. It was (the dome) pure white and it had gold (or it
was painted gold) run out from the middle into the white and it looked so pretty. Then we
were taken into the bed-room. The servant opened a window for us and we saw right into the
harbour and out on the Ocean. I can tell you that it was not very calm and the next day
was the day we were to sail for Athens. Then we came down and went out in our carriage.. Papa
wanted to pay the man but he would not take it. I suppose he thought what the Khedive payed
him was enough. ..
March 2ed.
Yesterday afternoon we went to the Acropolis. It was a great big ruin with many theaters.
The first thing we did was to go up quite a hill to the first theater. There were only two stones
of the stage left. The steps leading up to the stage were still there and were still quite good. In
the middle of the place where the band played and danced there were quite a good many statues;
every one had their heads cut off. Some of the Greeks had cut them off to sell them to the
British museum. I think that was quite mean in them to go and spoil the statues because travelers
and some of the Greeks themselfs would like to see what the faces were like. We saw Neptuns head
only and another great big hideous head of I don't know whom was right in the middle of them
all. I suppose they will chop that head off before long for they have chopped off all the others.
The place where the band played was made of square stones, most of them were big but in the
middle they were all small. It was a half circle with grass growing up between the middle stones
which looked very pretty indeed. We sat in the chairs which the people sat in a long, long time
ago. They were built of marble and were very comfortable. Each person had his name put on his

- L







chair. I sat in the king's chair. It was very high and I did not find it as comfortable as the rest
of the chairs were. Then we went out of this theater into another. We had to take a long
walk before we got to the next one. When we got in we went to the little church which was
cut out of rock. It had a place cut in the stone for the book. The book was covered up with
a cloth and a cloth cross worked on it. I think the cloth was mighty dirty because it was covered
with stanes and dirt spots. There were lamps hung on each side of the alter and it seemed
as if they had been burned pretty often for the top of the room was very black from the smoke
or else it was painted so. There was a mineral-spring on one side of it. An old women
who was there got a cup full of it for us to drink out of and to see how it tasted. I thought it
did not have any taste at all, but the rest of the folks did. Then we walked to another
theater. The ground was covered with stones of all sort mostly marble. There were some
pretty (very pretty indeed) pieces. They were too big to carry home and Papa would not let me
break a piece off because he said the stones were too precious and if everybody knocked
off a piece there would not be much of it left in a few years. Then we entered into another
theater. We entered through an iron gate, down some steps until we came to a statue.
I forget the name of it now and I don't think I knew then. I went alone down another
pair of steps into the theater. The lower stones were placed in the same way as the place
where the band played in the first were placed. There were no chairs in this one and the
people sat on steps. There was a well in the middle of the whole thing. The stage was all
gone except a few stones. The steps leading up to the stage were not gone yet and perfectly
safe to go up and down on. The only thing was that there was not anything to walk upon
when one got up to the top of these little steps. Then we came out again stepped into our





carriage and drove up the Acropolis. It was quite a pretty drive up to the top. When we were
on the top at least near the top we stepped out. Then we went up a flite of steps. They were
not very perfect but still they were perfect enough to go up without tumbling. In the middle of
the steps (they were very wide indeed) was where the chariots went up. They (the people) cut
places in the stones or steps where the horses went. It must have been quite a hard pull for the
horses to draw the chariots up those big steps don't you think so ? They must have had very
strong horses and I am sure they did because a weak horse could not possibly do that. After we
got up a little way we saw a little house or a kind of house. It had a room with an iron or
wooden gate I forget which one. The top of the Acropolis was all built of marble. Many
many stones big and little were lying about. I found a cannon ball and it was so very heavy that
I could hardly lift it. I tried to kick it with all my might really and it did not go very far either.
Then we went up another steps to the top where we took our seat on a bench and looked at Athens.
We tried to find our hotel and really did succeed in finding it after a while. There was hardly any
place to walk because the marble stones were so numerous. I wanted to scribble my name on a stone
so if I came there again I would try to find it and see if it was still there. I was not allowed to and
so of course I could not do it. Then we went
. along a little way to a big ruin [the Parthenon].
Papa showed us how it curved. At the very
d edge of it we could see how it went up in the
Middle and down at each end. It was a very
pretty curve I think and so did the rest if I am
not mistaken. The pillars curved too but I did
not notice that one bit. We looked around
there a little then we went down stairs. Before
going down we noticed on the top some pic-
tures cut into the stone like we have on the lit-
tle platform of our stairs in our house. Ours is
a cast of one we saw there. ...
March 4th.
I am now going to describe the dress
which the Greeks wear. They have about
fifty yards of white cloth a little more than
a foot long gathered around the waist, white
sleeves and an embroidered vest. They have
long, long stockings and yellow slippers with
great big black worsted tassels on the toe of
the slippers which turns up towards the sky.
The toes of the slippers are very pointed. On
their head they wear a little red cap which
A GREEK SOLDIER. turns over on one side. Usually on the left
side of the cap there is a long black tassel which falls over their shoulder. This is all their
outside clothing.
March ioth.
We just came home from the Greek church where the birthday of the Emperor of Russia
was celebrated. All the priests were dressed in pure gold. The head priest had a sort of a crown
on with every kind of precious stones set in it all around. They had a big gold pure gold cross
with the picture of Jesus on it. At the very top of the dome was a great big picture of Jesus
with a book in his arms; I suppose it was the Bible. In the middle hung a big chandelier full
of candles; I should think there were about fifty or sixty all lighted and another room right op-
posite had about ten or twelve candles lighted. Then we went up stairs on the gallery where



some people already were and they had the best place where the King and Queen were to be seen.
A gentleman was reading something in Russian which we did not understand. Then after a while
the Queen came in with her court-ladies which were all dressed in white. Some had beautiful
dresses and most of them I thought quite pretty. The Queen went in one apartment alone and
the court-ladies in another. Then the high-priest came out with the others; and threw the
smoke of insence to some pictures of Jesus and Mary. Before we went a band of sailors played
beautiful music which came from a Russian Man of War. We saw them at the church and we
thought it would be vely much crowded; but it was not for there was plenty of room for anybody
else that wanted to come. When the church was half
full the King, Qrown-prince and the Crown-princess
came in. The King and prince were in full dress.
The Queen looked very beautiful and so did the
princess but Fraulein dose not think so. I do not
remember what the priest did and what he said. At
the last the soldiers came out of the gate, formed in
line and the front ones played some beautiful march-
Sing tunes. ...
NAPLES, March 23.
We arrived in Naples last Friday night at about
eleven o'clock and we were in bed at twelve or a
Little before. We were vefy, very sleepy I can tell you.
The next morning we went to the National Museum.
On the way. there we saw very many stores full of coral
necklaces, rings, pins and other things. When we got
THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS. there we went:in a room which had about twenty six
statues in it. I can not remember hardly anything because I saw such a lot of things. While digging at
Pompeii they found bread and clothing. The last artical named was all falling to little pieces.
The bread was black and whole. In another room were beautiful little smelling bottles, jugs and
plates. The little bottles were made of mother of pearl I think. In another room there were some
mosaic floors taken up from Pompeii. They found too some
square mosaic pictures which they hung up on the wM ll:
One which I remember was a table with a basket -:-a
it and two cocks fighting under the table. I do nIot
remember the rest. They had some beautiful jars
with pictures of women and men painted on it. In
a little Japanese room was a beautiful vase of ivory.
It would be too hard to explain it I think; but I .
suppose other people can explain it. p ._
.We went to Pompeii day-before yesterday. ,
It took us two hours to get there and three :
hours to look it all over. It was very interesting. -
Of course I do not remember every-thing. First, we
went into the museum. There were (in the first room
some old locks and keys, a big iron box and some bred.
In the second room were 7 or 6 skeletons: a dog., I Irrtl- r.oc...
boy, some women and some men. The dog was all twisted up as
if in great agony. The color of them was a dirty whitish brown. On the sides of the room were
some big water jugs. Then we went in through the gate to Pompeii. The houses had no
roofs and no windows, the light coming in from the door. I suppose once they had roofs but
now they have all fallen to pieces. First we went to the big room where the king sat and



sentenced .the people. Parts of the pilars were yet standing and between each one was a little
basan cut out of stones. Up at the end of the room was the seat of the King. Near the seat
were some stairs which lead into a prison. We descended these stairs. It was a little, room
with two holes at the top through which the King told the poor creatures down there what he was
going to do with them. This room (not the prison, but the room where the King sat) was very
long and had about twenty pillars in it. They were all made of marble; not very clean and
bright now but then when it was new it must have been beautiful. We saw some little wine shops
and oil-shops. The sign of the oil shops was cut in the stone outside. The sign was two men
carrying a big jar of oil between them on a stick which they carried on the shoulder. The
wine-shops did not have any sign I think. These wine, and
oil ;hops were just alike. At one end of the room was a
lon:- marble table with five round holes at the top. I
S went to see what the holes were and saw a great big
jug sunk in the earth reaching up to the holes. In
the jugs they put the oil and wine which they sold.
I The streets were quite narrow; but I think the
Bazars were still narrower which we saw in Cairo.
There were some beautiful mosaic fountains with
little bits of steps leading up to them for the
water to fall down on. After looking at some
p -, ruins we entered the Forum which had six streets
Leading into it. They could block the streets up so
riders and carriages could not go through if they
a. o noted too. We ate our lunch- in the garden of
Dio medes and in his celler were found the bones of eigh-
teen women and children with bread and other things to eat.
There was an old black dog there which we fed with the bones of the chicken. He eat every-
thing we gave him even bread. I was sitting on a stone with a whole roll in my lap; and I
was just going to give the dog a little piece when he came up and snatched the whole roll out of
my lap and ran away. Afterwards he came again but I declined to give him anything more.
After we had finished we went down a pair of stairs into the long celler. It reached half way
around the house. There were little holes cut in through the rock. It was about 12 feet wide
and quite dark. Near the entrance were the bodies of the people found which ran down there for
protection. We turned around again pretty soon for there was not
much to see there except the walls. Some painting as were
still very clear and looked as if they had been just
painted. I had my picture taken on a fountain. The
chariot wheel marks on the stones were sometimes a
half a foot or a foot deep. Stones were thrown all
around. Before lunch we went into the ruins of
the old baths. First we went through a long
passage into a room where people used to sit wait- I
ing for the baths. Then we went in another t i
room where the hot baths were. It was not very
deep but still it was plenty deep enough. In
another large room were the cold baths. At one end
of the room was a great big marble washbole. It had
a little fountain of cold water in the middle. T1he
wash their hands and face in here and it cost a great deal
to have it made. There were five very homely heads pictures)



nailed on a fence. I forgot to say the color of the bread and cloth. It is very black. In a court
of another house was a table on which was found the bones of a little boy eating his dinner which
consisted of beef and a big loaf of bread. I can not remember much about Pompeii because you
must know that I have been played up in bed with the miasels for about three weeks .




My boy and I rode in the train
One morning bright and clear.
"When I 'm a grown-up man," said he,
I '11 be an engineer."
But soon the dust flew in his eyes
And heavy grew his head.
" I would n't be an engineer
For all the world," he said.

My boy was at a seaport town,
And saw the rolling sea.
" Mama," he said, one evening,
"A sailor I shall be "
We took him to a yacht race -
He had to go to bed !
"I would n't be a sailor, now,
For all the world he said.

We read him stirring stories
Of soldiers and their fame.
" I '11 go and fight," cried Freddie,
"And put them all to shamed"
We told him of a soldier's life;
He shook his little head.
"I would n't be a soldier, now,
For all the world he said.

And thus to each profession
He first said yes," then no."
"To make a choice is hard," he said,
"At least, Ifind it so."
"But what, then, will you be ? I asked,
"When you are grown-up, Fred ?"
" I really think I '11 only be
A gentleman," he said.




ONE day while a little girl was taking a walk
before dinner she saw a policeman standing on
the corer of the street where she lived. His
coat was very new and the brass buttons on it
were bright, for the policeman had not been a
policeman very long. The little girl thought he
was kind, for he was smiling at her. When she
came near he said:
"How do you do, Miss ?"
And the little girl said, as she had been
taught, "I am very well, thank you."
Then the policeman said, "How is Miss
Dolly ? "- for the little girl was carrying a doll
in her arms.
So she held the doll up for the policeman to
see, and said, Dolly is not very well."
"I 'm sorry," he said. "Her cheeks seem
very red."
"She 's fev'rish," said the little girl, and then
she walked back to the house.
When she was at home again, she told her
mother about her talk with the policeman, and
asked what policemen were for. So her mother
told her that when children took one another's
toys, the mother had to come and see that. the
children gave the toys back; or if they fought
one another, the mother had to separate the
children, and perhaps punish them to make
them behave better.
"That is what policemen do," said the
mother. If any one should take away your

dolly, the policeman would make the person
give it back to you."
The little girl said she understood, and
thanked her mother.
A few days after this, Pauline, for that was
the.little girl's name, was walking in the same
street. After she became tired, she sat down to
rest on the steps of a house close to her own
and put her dolly on the step beside her. While
she was resting, a boy came along the street,
and with the boy there came a little terrier dog.
Before Pauline saw what the boy meant to do,
he picked up her dolly and began to make the
dog play with it.
Pauline got up from the step and said, Give
me my doll. .You '11 spoil it."
But the boy laughed at her, and kept on shak-
ing the doll at his dog. The dog would growl
and try to catch the doll in his mouth, and the
boy held the doll so that the dog could not
reach it. Then Pauline tried to take the doll
from the boy. But when she said, You must
give it to me! and put out her hand for it,
the boy threw the doll to the dog, the dog
caught it in his mouth, and then both ran away
down the street and around the corner ; while
Pauline, after running a few steps, stopped and
began to cry. She was afraid she would never
see the dolly again, and it was her very best one,
with real kid boots and curly hair.
But while she was crying, she saw her friend


the policeman comirig down the street. And he
saw her, too, and saw that she was crying. So
he walked over to her, and said:
What is the matter- are you lost ?"


Then Pauline laughed even while her eyes and
were wet, and said: a w]
Oh, no I live in that house with the vine P
on it. Do you see it ?" hear
The policeman said he did. And then Pau- other
line remembered what her mother had told her a 1
about the policeman, so she said: off,
Mr. Policeman, do you punish boys who a
take people's dollies ? p o
"Of course," he said, smiling. "Has a boy cam
taken yours ?" stre
"Yes. I mean-that is-a boy's dog has." said
Tell me about it," said the policeman. "
So Pauline told how the boy had taken her it, I
dolly and given it to his dog, and how the dog "
and boy had then run away. And the police- kno
man was glad to help her. on
Come with me," he said, and we will ask whc
your mother whether we may look for the bad little
dog who has taken the dolly away." mar
- They walked to the house, and Pauline's "
mother said they might go, if they would come you

:soon., The policeman said they would
one.only a little while.
hen they walked dbwn the street the way the
had gone. When they came to the corner,
the policeman asked Pauline if
she was sure the boy had gone to
.the right. And she said she was.
What kind of a boy was he ?"
the policeman asked.
'Pauline said that the boy wore
a blue jacket, short trousers, and
had a torn straw hat.
And what sort of dog did he
have ?" said the policeman.
A little woolly dog.".'
Did you hear the boy call
his name ?"
Yes," said Pauline; "the boy
said,' Here, Jip !' when he threw
the doll."
"You're a clever little girl," said
the policeman. Then he asked
Pauline to wait a few minutes,

he blew
rd an-
r whistle
ong way
and soon
.e up the
et and

What is
Do you < '
w a boy
this beat
Sowns a
e dog named Jip ?" asked Pauline's police-
No, I can't think of one just now. Why do
want to know ? "


"He has run away with this little girl's doll,"
said Pauline's friend..
"Oh! Well, I don't know any such boy;
but we might ask the butcher. Little dogs like
that one very often steal pieces of meat from
butchers' shops."
"How far is it to the butcher's ? asked Pau-
line's friend.
Only a little way. Come."
So Pauline and her friend walked along'and
soon came to the
butcher's shop. I
"Good afternoon,"
said the butcher.
"What's the trouble?"
"Nothing. much.
We want to find a little
boy who owns a small
woolly dog named Jip.
Do you know him ?"
S"Knowhim ?I know
him verywell," saidthe
butcher. ",What is it
he has been doing ?"
"His dog ran away
with this little girl's
dolly," said one of the
Oh!" answered
the butcher, laughing.
"Well, his name is
Tommy Lee, and he
lives just down the
street. He is a good
boy, and I don't think
he meant to run away
with the doll. Wait
here a minute, and I '1l
send myboy Jack after
The butcher called
his boy to him. TOM
Jack," said he, put down your basket, and
go to Tommy Lee's house. See if you can bring'
him here for a minute. I want to see him."
Jack set down the basket, and went out.
Then the butcher brought a chair for Pauline,
and one of the policemen, the second one, said:
Good-by, miss; I think you '11 get your doll

Pauline thanked him, and he went away.
As soon as he was gone, the butcher's boy,.
Jack, came backhand with him was Tommy
Lee. Tommy had the doll in his aims. He was
very red, and was out of breath, as if he had
been running.
Pauline put out her arms, and Tommy gave
her the doll.
"Why did you take the doll?" said the
policeman, very crossly.


I did n't mean to," said Tommy, and I was
just bringing it back. The butcher's boy met me.
I did n't know that Jip would run away with
it. It took me a loig. time to catch him, for the
dog thought it a game.' I 'm very soriy, sir."
"Tell the little girl'youi're sorry," ,said the
policeman, in a gruff voice.
I did n't mean to," said Tommy, looking as




if he would cry, "and I 'm sorry that I made
you think you had lost your doll."
Pauline said she was so glad to get her. doll
back that she hoped the boy need not be
'f You may go now," said the policeman, and
Tommy ran out, very glad to get away.
Then they thanked the butcher, who said he
hoped the doll was not hurt.
Thank you, no," said Pauline, looking care-
fully at the dolly, but I think she was scared."
The policeman and Pauline then walked to
Pauline's house. And when they got there they
found that Pauline's father was at home.
The father thanked the policeman, and, taking
some money, tried to give it to him. But the
policeman said:
"No, sir; thank you. I have a little girl of
my own at home, and so I 'm glad to get the
doll for Miss Pauline."
But," said Pauline's father, '' I have just
been out and bought a new dolly for her. Her
mother told me she had lost her old one, and I
was afraid you would not find it."
And Pauline's father showed her a new doll,
almost like the one she held in her arms.
But I don't need two dollies," said Pauline.
May I send one to the policeman's little girl ?"
Yes, dear."
So Pauline asked the policeman to give the
new doll to his little girl, with her love.

And the policeman was glad, and thanked
Pauline; and when he showed his little girl the
doll she was glad, too; for it was the prettiest
she ever had seen.

When Pauline went in the house she said to
her father:
Papa, I think policemen is real userful."
"Sometimes they are," said her father, and
then they went hand in hand to dinner.


I By EMMA C. DowD.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G,-
Baby and I will sail the sea;
H, I, J, K, L, M, N,-
Across the ocean and back again;
0, P, Q, R, S, T, U,-
Now on the railway, choo, choo, c
V and W, X, Y, Z,-
Home is the best place for baby a


nd me.





HERE are we, my hearers, once more assembled
to settle the affairs of science and the nation.
And now, before beginning new business, let us
take up
FIRST, allow me to thank Miss Annie Russell
A., Henry Campman, "A Reader," J. E. D.,
Allen Van Vort, R. L. Jones, and all the other
young friends, who correctly answered my query
in regard to the peculiar plant pointed out to you
from this Pulpit three months ago. It was shown,
you may remember, in the picture of the "The
Telegraph-Pole as a Storehouse." *
Very many sent answers, and though not all
replied correctly, your Jack is glad to know that
so large a number became interested in the matter
and endeavored to "hunt it up."
This plant, called by the scientific the Agave
Americana, is popularly known by the following
names: Agave, American Aloe, Century plant,
Maguey, and perhaps by other names. I am told,
on good authority, that it is an Agave and not a
Yucca. as many of you, my friends, have called it.
The Yucca, it seems, belongs to a different order-
"the Spanish-bayonet order," as one correspondent
writes--at all events, you '11 find by consulting
the encyclopedias that Yucca and Agave are not
two names for the same thing.
This Agave Americana, let me here remark, is
by no means a worthless plant, as you may learn
by ascertaining the various uses to which.it maybe
put, nor does it always stand alone like a sentinel,
by a telegraph-pole, as in Mr. Nugent's interest-
ing picture. It is a sociable plant and loves its
fellows, as all of us should do.

AND now, to change the subject, here is an
interesting bit of information sent to you, my hun-
gry ones, by Mr. Ernest Ingersoll:

Two tribes of Indians in the upper part of Cali-
fornia..had-as boundary between their districts, a
low ridge where the streams headed. If you should
go to where one of these streams, Potter river, rises,
you would see still standing a tall pile of stones
beside a never-failing spring; on one side of this
cairn was the territory of the Pomo Indians, and on
the other the land of the Chumaia. These tribes
were enemies, and were often at war. When the
Chumaia wished to challenge the others to battle,
they took three little sticks, cut notches round their
ends and in the middle, tied them at the ends into
a faggot, and laid it on this cairn. If the Pomos
accepted the challenge, they tied a string around
the middle of the three sticks and left them in
their place. Then agents of both tribes met on
neutral ground and arranged the time and place
of battle, which took place accordingly.

THAT is one way of settling a difficulty. But
think how many different kinds of difficulties there
are, and in what different ways folks set about to
settle them!
There is dear little Marjory, for instance. Your
friend Annie L. Hannah has written for you a pretty
song about her. Here it is:

"I WONDER," said sweet Marjory,
To the robin on the wall;
"I wonder why the flowers are short,
And why the trees are tall?
I wonder why the grass is green,
And why the sky is blue ?
I wonder, Robin, why I 'm I,
Instead of being you?

I wonder why you birds can fly,
When I can only walk?
I wonder why you only sing,
While I can sing, and talk?
Oh, I wonder, I so wonder
Why the river hurries by?
I think you ought to know, Robin;
I would, if I could fly !

I wonder," said sweet Marjory,
With a puzzled little frown,
I wonder why the moon won't shine
Until the sun goes down?
I wonder where the stars all go
When they 're not in the sky?
I 'most believe you know, Robin,
For all you look so shy !

"I wonder why the snow comes?
And why the flowers die?
I wonder where the summer lives
When the wintry winds blow high?
I wonder," said sweet Marjory,
With her plump chin in her hand,
"I wonder, Robin, if we two
Shall ever understand ? "

* See page'z63 in ST. NICHOLAS for December, 189o.




DEAR JACK IN THE PULPIT: I have been reading
Dannie G-'s letter in the bound volume of ST. NICH-
OLAS (June number, 1890), about flowers frozen in a
block of ice, and as I have read several others before, I
thought you might like to hear about those that I raw.
Last June our city celebrated her Semi-centennial. On
the nith, she had a Trades' Display that'was very
fine; the business of an artificial-ice company was repre-
sented by a float containing four blocks of ice about three
feet high, and eighteen inches thick; in one was a fine
large red-fish, about two feet long; the next had a large
bouquet of lovely roses; the third held two red-snappers;
and the fourth some Spanish-bayonet blossoms, waxen
and lovely, and all of them worth going a long way to
We have taken ST. NICHOLAS ever since it began, and
enjoy it very much. Yours respectfully,

THE cradle that a queen should choose for
her princely little baby must be a very grand
affair, don't you think so? Perhaps made of choice
or costly woods or even of a precious metal. In
either case it must, you think, be most beauti-
fully shaped and perhaps carved with the figures of
sweet little cherubs, watching over the favored
mortal baby as he sleeps softly amid his clouds of
fine linen and delicate lace.
This may all be. Jack does n't know much
about kings and queens and princes; and being
a good republican, does not care so much about
their grand furniture, and dresses, and cradles, as
he does about whether or not they are good men
and women and boys and girls and babies. What
made me think of them at all was something that
I heard a traveler tell about within a few days.
This traveler had lately come from France.
While .in that country he had visited the town
of Pau, among the Pyrenees Mlountains. (Look
on your maps for them, my friends.) In this
town, high up, looking over the valleys, stands an
old, old castle, dark and gray and gloomy. It was
built in the olden days when there was much fight-
ing, and nobles and princes had to live in castles,
with walls made so thick and strong to keep out
their enemies that the blessed sunlight was kept
out too, and the big rooms and halls were dark
and dismal enough. Here in this castle of Pau,
in the year of 1553, said the traveler, lived the old
King of Navarre, and here, in this same year, was
born his grandson Henry, Prince of Navarre,
afterwards known the world over as Henry the
Great, King of France and Navarre. He was
called great not only because he knew how to
head the armies of his kingdom, fighting his
enemies, but because he loved his people and
tried to make them happy and prosperous as well
as glorious.
So his people loved him, and after his death
they cherished everything that had belonged to
him with the greatest care. Here, in his castle of
Pau, is still treasured the cradle in which the royal
baby was rocked to rest.
It is a cradle made all of tortoise-shell.

Should n't you think it would break very easily ?
It would if it were thin and polished tortoise-shell,
like a girl's dainty bracelet, which is almost as
brittle as glass; but there is little danger of this
royal cradle meeting any such fate no more
danger than if the shell were still on the back of
the turtle, its first owner The shell is not polished
or altered in any way. It was taken from the back
of the big sea-turtle (who had carried it so long,
and thought himself so safe in his stout shell-
house) and was cleaned and turned over on its
Then only a little blanket was laid in it, for
the young Prince of Navarre was not brought
up delicately, and in his very cradle was taught
to lie wrapped in a rough blanket, instead of on
soft cushions, amid luxurious linen and lace.
The traveler did not tell the friend with whom
he. was talking whether or not the turtle-shell
cradle was mounted on rockers. If not, how could
the cradle have been rocked without giving the
poor little baby a most terrible jouncing?
A little boy, who was walking with the-traveler
and his friend, said that he did n't think the little
Prince Henry had half so comfortable a time of it
as his own little baby brother at home; and I
should n't woAder if that were true. But, per-
haps, after all, it is n't good for babies.to be quite
so comfortable. It may be that more babies would
grow up to be strong and hardy men and women if
they were not treated quite so tenderly at the first.
Who knows?

HERE is a pretty bit of talk sent by your friend
R. E. B.:


"LITTLE bird," "Little boy,"
Said the lad, Said the bird,
"On my word, "I take joy,
I am glad On my word,
I can go In the storm
Where 't is warm And the snow;
From the snow I am warm,
And the storm. Don't you know.
So I say, Whit! to-whee !
Hoop hooray As for me,
Boys are best, any day! Just a.bird I would be!"

AND here is another view of the case, from the
girls' point of view, sent you by Miss Maria J. Ham-

I KNOW a little maiden,
And winter, spring, and fall,
She wears about her shoulders
A little Shetland shawl!

She says if all the birds stayed north,-
The sensible, wee things !-
That some would soon wear tiny shawls
Tucked underneath their wings!



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am the youngest of six chil-
dren who have taken you for eleven years. Some of the
oldest bound numbers are falling to pieces, but ST. NICK
would have to be bound in leather and printed on linen
to stand all the reading it gets in this family. I like
all your stories, and am always on the lookout for the
"Brownies," and the "Aztec Fragments."
I have a shepherd pup named after the great enchan-
ter, Merlin," because he makes so many things mys-
teriously disappear," and can make my brother look
black when he chews up his hats or overshoes.
I am thirteen years old. I live in the country and
drive into the city every day to school. I hope you
will live forever. Yours' truly, REUBEN O- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am writing to tell you all
about Guy Fawkes Day, because the little boys and
girls in America do not have a Guy Fawkes Day, and
perhaps they might like to hear about it. You see, Guy
Fawkes Day is thoroughly a boys' day-girls have noth-
ing at all to do with it- but though I am a girl I have
five brothers, and therefore generally share in the fun.
The day is the 5th of November, and about the mid-
dle of October all the shops (stores, as you say in Amer-
ica) begin to show fireworks and masks in their windows.
Now, I dare say you will like to hear about the masks."
Well, they are faces made of a sort of composition,
painted most hideously, generally with big noses: These
are purchased for the large sum of one penny (two cents
in American money) by all the little boys, who wear
them about the streets. After this has gone on for about
a week or a fortnight, Guy Fawkes Day really comes.
At about ten or eleven o'clock, on the 5th, you hear a
great deal of noise going on in the streets, and cries of
Guy, Guy, Guy, Guy, Guy," as fast as it can be gabbled
(or rather shouted). Then you see a troop of street
urchins with paper caps and paper streamers, singing,
while two of them carry a chair on which is tied an effigy
of Guy Fawkes, with one of the aforesaid masks," and
an old hat and coat. The boys come and stand in front
of the houses and sing:
"Please to remember
The Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot.
I see no good reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot!
Another song was:
Holler, boys, holler, boys, make the bells ring;
Holler, boys, holler;-boys, God save the King."
"The king means James I., and the words are now
changed into "God save the Queen."
You see Guy Fawkes Day is a very, very old custom;
it dates back to 1605, when it is said that some con-
spirators tried to blow up the king and Parliament.

After dark all the boys have bonfires and fireworks,
not so much in the town as in the suburbs, where there
are back gardens in which to burn the stuffed effigy and
to set off the fireworks. Good-by,
Yours lovingly, MARGARET ALICEE B- .
Aged fourteen.

ZINE is always full of fine stories, but the one that inter-
ests me most is entitled "The Boy Settlers."
If your readers remember, the story starts out with a
brief description of Dixon, Illinois. Dixon is now a nice
place, much nicer than at the time spoken of in "The
Boy Settlers," yet many of the old landmarks still stand.
The "OldElm" is especially interesting to see and
hear about. Lincoln and Black Hawk stood under it
when the treaty of peace was signed that ended the
Black Hawk War; the tree stands right below our house,
to the west; six men can just reach around it.
My grandmother knows most of the characters spoken
of in The Boy Settlers" ; also, Noah Brooks, the author.
Father Dixon was well kn6wn by her, and many a time
she has told me incidents in his life.
I remain your true friend, 0. W. S-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are very much interested
in "Lady Jane." We think the story will be spoiled if
Lady Jane does n't get back to her relatives.
The season for chrysanthemums is just past. There
have lately been several shows in the city. The manager
of one of the shows said there were two hundred and
forty-five different kinds of chrysanthemums there. Some
of the names translated are "White Stork," "Golden
Waterfall," "Rays of Light," "Ghost," and" Sea-foam."
We are the three largest foreign girls in Sendai, and
are one another's only playmates.
Your interested readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The following letter or com-
position is entirely the work of a little girl in her ninth
year-the names taken from a book which she happened
upon. Her nurse missed her, and found her in the
library writing away at "a composition like the boys
had to take to school." I am the aunt, the possible victim
of "those savage beasts."
Very sincerely yours, F. N. N- .

[We print the letter as written:]
MY DEAR FRIEND: I write to you. Prof. Haxley
reported to you something about the different papers. I
have a paper that I will send you inclosed in this letter,
which I hope you will, enjoy. One of the subjects are
about principally of the best, fine animals. Now, for
instance, the most interesting is about, dogs; now you


know there are some fine dogs such as water spaniel
(we have one), then the cats of the best Maltese
nature, you know; well, I will have a little talk about
the cats : The'cats have tricks; I've heard of a cat that
would dip her paw in a pitcher of milk, and then put it
to her mouth. Well, I forgot to give a subject on
dogs, which I will do now: Some dogs are bad and some
are good; some dogs like to jump up on you and tear
your clothes. Well, there are horses, some very fine
horses; I 1ippose some people have finer horses than
others; we have a fine horse. Now I will make a sub-
ject on lions: They are very savage beasts; they are
mostly out West in the woods. I have an aunt that is
going out there, and I hope they won't eat her up;
they like to eat people. Now this is all I am going to
say about animals. I think I will talk about gardens.
A great many people have gardens; now we like to
have lots of vegetables in the gardens, such as corn,
lima beans, and tomatoes; then there are aristocratic
gardeners. I suppose you have heard of Samuel Boyer;
he knows lots about gardens. Now I am going to give
a subject on artists : Some artists are better than others.
I have seen fine paintings they have done; they have
very fine tastes about painting and drawing. I would
like to know how oil paints are made. Now I will talk
about flowers: Some are very pretty. I think daisies
and dandelions are right pretty, but they are so common,
and have n't got any style about them like fuchias and
roses have. Now, what does subject mean? It means
to take a word and tell things about it. Now I will
close. I hope you will enjoy this composition, and all
your family. MARY C. N- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American boy.
I have been traveling in England with my mother and
twd brothers. I have also been in Scotland and Wales.
When we were in Sdbtland we stayed at Edinburgh. We
went to see the Forth Bridge, which is the longest
bridge in the world.
It is not as handsome as the Brooklyn Bridge, how-
We are in Scarborough now, which is a great water-
ing place. The other day we went out fishing; we
caught about four dozen fish in an hour and a half.
Don't you think that is pretty good? I am going to
London in a few days. I have not been there yet. We
sail for home very soon. I will be very glad to get
home, although I like England. Good-by.
Your devoted friend, DUNBAR F. C-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first letter I have
ever written to you during the long years you have been
coming to me.
I send this little verse, which I have written all by
myself :
One day a little girl was asked by her father large and
What she did want a top, or ball, or anything like that.
And she answered very wisely, with a sort of little
I would like it if you'd get me ST. NICHOLAS, if you
Your little reader, GENEVIEVE C-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am quite an old subscriber,
as I have taken you now for nearly six years, and I have

read and re-read your bound volumes with never-failing
pleasure. I have traveled a great deal during the four-
teen years of my life, and have been five times to Europe.
Last summer I spent at Paris, and as we lived quite near
the exhibition we used to go there frequently. I went
to the top of the Eiffel Tower. There were so many
people that we had to wait nearly two hours on the
second floor for the lift, and when we stepped into it we
could look down through a crack in the planks, and could
see, far down below, little dots, which were said to be
houses and people. Part of the following winter we
spent at Nice. You cannot imagine how lovely it is to
see thousands of roses blooming in the open air in Feb-
ruary. The flower-market is a very attractive place,
and I used to go to it nearly every day, and buy quanti-
ties of flowers, always haggling a long time over prices,
as is customary. Some of the old crones hardly speak a
word of French, but a sort of patois, a mixture of Italian
and French. We were at Nice during the Carnival.
The flower battles were delightful, and the masquerade
was the most amusing thing I had seen for a long time.
I have no pets just now, but have been promised a fox-
terrier. I think your stories are delightful, especially
"Juan and Juanita." My mother owns volume of the
original of" Grandmother's Wonderful Chair," and long
before Prince Fairyfoot appeared in your pages I
had read the original story through. This letter is the
first I have ever written to you.
I am, with best wishes for a long life to your delightful
magazine, your friend and hearty admirer,
M. G. K-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy twelve years
old. I have taken you since '84, and I never wrote to
you before. I hope the following story is not too long.
I translated it all alone. JACK C- .
P. S.-This is a surprise for mama and papa.


ONCE a man who had a..magic-lantern show, went
away aid left the monkey all alone. The monkey wished
to make a great hit, so he went and collected all the animals
he could find in the town- dogs, cats, chickens, turkeys,
and ducks, all arrived soon, one by one.
"Walk in, walk in!" cried our monkey. It is here
that a new spectacle will charm you, gratis," he cried.
At these words every spectator seated himself, and our
monkey brought the magic-lantern, and closed the blinds.
Then, by a speech, made expressly for the occasion, he
prepared the audience. It made them yawn, but they
applauded, and contented with his success, he seized a
painted glass and pushed it in the lantern; he knew how
to manage it. As he pushed it in he cried: Is there any-
thing like it? You see the sun and all its glory, and
presently you shall see the moon, and the history of
Adam and Eve, see-" The spectators, in a profound
darkness, strained their eyes and could see nothing.
"My word! said a cat, "the fact is, I see nothing."
"Neither do I," said a dog.
All this time the modern Cicero talked on. He had
forgotten but one thing; that was, to light his lantern!

MY DEAREST ST. NICHOLAS: I do so hope this let-
ter will be printed. I think Lady Jane is very nice
indeed, and I wish the "Brownies" came every month.
I take several magazines, but I don't think any of them
-are one bit as nice as you.


I have seen some of the bays here, but I have not been
here long enough to see them all; of the ones I have
seen, I like Petit Bot Bay best. I drove there once in
an excursion-car one which goes all round the island;
the road is very steep, on one side is.a precipice and on
the other a cliff; round.the last corners I did not like it
much, for the four horses and axle went round before the
long heavy car did! 'As we were driving home, the con-
ductor told us that the Guernsey people, when they want
to fatten their animals, fattened them one day and starved
them the next; when you went to the market, you would
see, he said, meat with a layer of lean and then a layer of
fat, and so on; he said the fat came by fattening them, and
the lean by starving them! I remain, your ever-devoted
reader, PHYLLIS S. C- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I hope I may never have to
stop taking you. You were given me on my birthday in
1885, and I have enjoyed your pages ever since.
I send with this letter a sort of an enigma, which I
made up myself. From your loving reader,
A PARTY of young ladies were seated in a shady (island
in Mediterranean Sea) grove, one hot summer day, busily
-engaged with their fancy-work.
Presently they saw a man coming toward them, whom
one, named (a city in Italy), recognized as her cousin (a
river in North America).
(The river in N. A.) said he hoped this circle of superior
and charming young ladies would allow him to join them.
To this they readily agreed, but said he must stop his
(cape on Pacific coast of N. A.); and saying that he
needed refreshments, (one of the Southern States)
brought him a cup of hot (one of the East Indies)
coffee, (a river of Africa), and a (one of a group of
islands west of North America).
After he had eaten his lunch, he commenced to tell a
story of how lie was chased by a (lake in British Amer-
ica), at which (the city in Italy) sank down in a dead
faint, she was so frightened.
For a few moments there was great confusion and
(cape on eastern side of North America) in the company.

Btt a young girl by the name of (a city in Australia)
sprinkled (a city in Prussia) over her poor friend, and
told the rest to keep up (cape off southern Africa).
It was not long before (the city in Italy) began to
recover, and (the Southern State) exclaimed, "How pale
you look, my (river in Australia) "; while the (river in
N. A.) begged her to take a little (river in S. A.) wine.
Very soon after they all started for home. On the
way (the river in N. A.) tried to caress a large (island
east of Canada) dog, but so full of (islands east of Austra-
lia) feelings was he, that he would not submit to being
simply patted, but wanted to play with them.
Soon after, as they were going over some stony ground,
(a river in Siberia), a little sister of (the city in Italy),
fell down and began to cryloudly. (The Southern State)
called her a (city in Hungary), but another young lady,
(a city in central Europe), comforted her by promising
her a gold ring on her birthday..
Here(thecityminAustralia) drewhershawl tighter round
her and said she was (a country in South America). They
soon reached home, however, and having taken a (cape
on coast of Greenland) of each other, and saying they
had had a pleasant day, returned to their several homes
in (a city of New Hampshire). "QUEEN DAISY."

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Bernie B., Gertrude
H., Harold A.M., Mary L. T., Lillian O. F., Harold H.,
Fannie M. P., Muriel P., L. B., Marion K., John M. H.,
E. L. S. A.B., Gertrude E. A.,Guy S.,Alma H.,Jacque-
line H., Mabel P., Edith B., Burritt S. L., Daisy McK.,
J. R. S., Mary A. J., Clara J., Percy F., Charlie, Mil-
dred M. C., Bryson, Kathryn W., Ruth D., Evelyn C,
Bessie B., Helen H. C., Milton .S. G., .. C. P., Her-
bert M. L., Mabel G. M., Elsie L. S., Fannie H. and
Frances T., Helen L., Edna S. P., L. B. W., Myron S.,
Karl B., Percy L. T., Helen P., Harry S. L., Leo W.,
Juliet M. K., Geraldine G., Lillie J., Nina S. and Ina H.,
Ida M., Pearl M. B., May B., Kate McC., Katharine P.
H., Hebe A. and Grace C., Anne B. R., Marjorie W.,
Charlie T., Russell C., Ade M. F., M. and W., Abigail
and Alice, W. G., Sadie R. B., Muriel E. M., Katrina A.
MacM.,-John.P., '.. Bertha .A. W., Kate K., Evalyn F.
F., Vernon F., Mary Eleanor P., Fannie K.



I. ... II. III.

PECULIAR ACROSTIC. Primals, Sordello; fourth row, Browning; BROKEN WORDS. First row, Longfellow; second row, Evange-
finals, S. Cross-words : I. Symbols. 2. Onerous. 3. Reforms. line. r. List-ens, 2. Out-vie. 3. Notion-ally. 4. Gar-net. 5. Fun-
4. Drawers. 5. Evinces. 6. Legions. 7. Linnets. 8. Origins gus. 6. on. Lnn. iin. East-e 7. Lord-ling. 8. Lament-in. 9. Ope-ned. io.
A TRIANGLE. From i to o, Washington; xx to 19, Candlemas. Wax-end.
I, W; 2 to 19, as; 3 to x8, spa; 4 to 17, helm; 5 to 16, inane; 6 to PI. On the wind in February
15, normal; 7 to 14, Goulard; 8 to 13, traction; 9 to X2, orchestra; Snowflakes float still,
so to xi, numismatic. Half inclined to turn to rain,
A NEST OF BIRDS. I. Flycatcher. 2. Sparrow. 3. Robin. 4. Par- Nipping, dripping, chill.
tridge. 5. Barnswallow. 6. Killdeer. 7. Meadow-lark. 8. Parrot. Then the thaws swell the streams,
9. Spoonbill/ iop Snowbunting. zx. Loon. 12. Whip-poor-will. And swollen rivers swell the sea;
13. Kingfisher. T4. Lyre-bird. 15. Curlew. 16. Sandpiper. r7. Tur- If the winter ever ends
key. I8. Canvas-back duck. z9. Heron. 20. Turtledove. 21. Cock- How pleasant it will be. c. G. ROSSETTI.
atoo. 22. Guinea-fowl. 23. Lapwing. CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Chat 2. Hole. 3. Alas.
WORD-BUILDING. E. 2. Te. 3. Let. 4. Lent. 5. Inlet. 6. Silent. 4. Test. II. I. Slat. 2. Lama. 3. Amos. 4. Task. III. I. Trot.
7. Linnets. 8. Sentinel., Rose. 3. Ossa. 4. Teak. IV. i. Kant. 2. Aloe. 3. Noun.
WORD-SQUARES. I. x. Rover. 2. Obole. 3. Vocal. 4. Elate. 4. Tent.
5. Relet. II. I. Niter. 2. Irene. 3. Terns. 4. Ennui. 5. Resin. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Honorable. Cross-words: I. Discharge.
A GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE. From 25 to i, Boston; 25 to 3, Ber- 2. Fagotto. 3. Runic. 4. Rod. 5. R. 6, Bat. 7. Fable. 8. Tablets.
gen; 25 to 5, Bengal; 25 to 7, Biscay; 25 to 9, Borneo; 25 to Ii, 9. Herderite.
Bogota; 25 to 13, Bremen; 25 to 15, Burmah; 25 to 17, Balkan; NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
25 to Ig, Berlin; 25 to 21, Bombay; 25 to 23, Bangor; 3 to 5, Natal; Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
7 to 9, Yeddo; 11 to 13, Akron; 15 to 17, Huron; 19 to 21, Nancy; 'T is only noble to be good.
23 to i, Rouen; 4 to 6, Etna; 8 to ao, Acre; 12 to 14, Tyre; 16 to Kind hearts are more than coronets,
a8, Asia; 20 to 22, Iowa; 24 to 2, Ohio. And simple faith than Norman blood.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the r5th 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 DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December x5th, from Clare Sydney H.-
Maude E. Palmer- No name, E. Johnsbury, Vt.- M. Josephine Sherwood-" The McG.'s"- Harry Tuttle Clara B. Orwig- L. E.
Taylor-- Eloise Lloyd Derby M. E. Hessler-- Stephen O. Hawkins C. A. M. P.-Arthur Gride--" The Wise Five "-" McGinty
and Catnip "-" Infantry "- E. M. G.- Alice L. Granbery Emily K. Johnston A. L. W. L.- Maud C. Maxwell Paul Reese -
Jennie S. Liebmann- Alice Mildred Blanke and Sister Jo and I Robert A. Stewart -" Bud "- Blanche and Fred-" Paganini'and
Liszt"--A. H. and R.--Effie K. Talboys--"A Proud Pair"- Madge Clark-- Edith Sewall-Dame Durden--"Me and Unk"-
"Thida and Nardyl "-" May and'79"-Nellie L. Howes -"Miss Flint "- A. Fiske and Co.- A. M. C.-" The Nick McNick"-
"Uncle Mung"- J. H. C. and J. A. F.- Ida C. Thallon Gertrude L.- Edward Bancroft -" Busy Bee."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December isth, from "Anon," 2-" Fesion," ix-" Nif-
esca" 2- Lillian, Pearl, and Alice, 2 -Katharine B. and Katharine D., i Agnes and Elinor, 5- Marion H., I E. Woodbury, x -
"Nip and Bang," 2 George B. Fernald, 8- Kate W. Tibbals, I- Fannie and Edith Tolman, r Edith L. G., Carrie S. Harmon
and Hattie H. Herrick, 2 -Edythe P. J. and E. F., 2-"Praked and Kleen," --Uncle George, Ailie, and Lily, -Papa B., -
Elaine and Grace Shirley, 2-" Miramonte Quartette," 6--Donald McClain, i-" La Zia," 4-Rulnda M. Hough, i--"Tit for Tat," a-
B. W., 3-Adele Mathias, 7--Mabel S. Meredith, 2- Clara and Minnie, 6- Alma Steiner, x-"Papa and I," 3--Elsie P. Sander-
son, -"Family Affair," J. F., I -J. B. Y., 4-"McGinty," Emma Walton, 7 Eleanor S., Hubert L. Bingay, 8 E.
Tracy Hall, 2-E. H. Rossiter,.6-" Papa, Mama, and Me," --Joseph P. Davis, 3-"Carita," 9-Arthur B. Lawrence, 2--Lillie
Anthony, 4--Nellie Archer, 7 Blanche Smith, 5-Ethel M. Hart, i- H. M. C. and Co., 6-Albert B. Himes, 6-" Three Little
Maids from School," r -Maude M., i--H. H. Francine, 4--Carrie Thacher, 4-Honora Swartz, 2-"Dog and Cat," 6- Mary H.
Kirkwood, i -Frank C. Lincoln, 4 -C:, Estelle, and Clarendon Ions, 5 -Edward Gordon, -Russell Mount, -Bertha W. Groes-
beck, 4-" The Nutshell," 8 No Name, Englewood, 9-" Ed and Papa," 9- Irene, Lottie, Mama, and May, I Jennie and Miriam
Bingay, 3-" Free and Easy," 3-Percy Thompson, x -Adele Walton, 8-" The Bees," 3-Ethel and Natale, Minnie and
James, 7 C. H. K., Clara and Emma, 7- Alex. Armstrong, Jr., 5 R. M. Huntington,. 6-" Midwood," 9 Adienne, 5- Sissie
Hunter, 6- Minna Wood, 9 Edith W. A., 5 No Name, Minneapolis, 9 Maud Taylor, 8 E. B. S. W., Madeleine S. and Mary L, 2.

I. I. The French turnip. 2. The white poplar.
3. Mercenary. 4. A species of antelope. 5. Joins
II. I. The largest size of type. 2. An African lizard.
3. Designates. 4. A letter of the Greek alphabet. 5. Per-
taining to the nose.
III. I. A Russian drink. 2. Oxygen in a condensed
form. 3. A piece of wood driven into a wall, so that
other pieces maybe nailed to it. 4. A passing bell.
5. One of the Harpies. ELDRED JUNGERICH.
EACH of the words described contains seven letters.
When rightly guessed and placed one below the other,
take the first letter of the first word, the last letter of the
second word, the first letter of the third, the last of the
fourth, and so on, till the name of a famous traveler is
CROSS-WORDS: I. An African quadruped. 2. A
bucolic. 3. Pertaining to Turkey. 4. A butcher's

instrument. 5. An immense mass of ice. and snow
moving slowly downward. 6. To shut out. 7. A joint
of the finger. 8. To be enough. 9. Mischievous. Io. A
kind of cotton cloth originally brought from China.
Ir. Eagerness. 12. A vendue.


ROF em erthe si on arerr ginth
Hant, hilew eth newstir griglenin,
Ot state eht snebsledess fo pgrins.

Weer hist eht snigrp, I won dushlo higs
Hatt ahtug reew spetn;--tub chir ma I!
Huntcoude prigsns lodgen msu thod eli.

I. A vowel. 2. A pronoun. 3. Veneration. 4. Mer-
chandise. 5. A bet. 6. A musical composer. 7. Tire-
some. 8. Irrigating. 9. Entwining. o1. Enduring.


MY primals spell the surname of a President of the
United States who was born-March 15; my.finals spell
the surname of a Southern statesman who-died March 31.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Pertaining to the Jews. 2. A fleet
of armed ships. 3. A letter of defiance. 4. A place
mentioned in the first verse of the twentieth chapter of
Genesis. 5. A valuable timber-tree of.India, used for
shipbuilding. 6, Mosaic gold. 7. Native carbonate of


4 t *

4 *.

.- *-

I. UPPER SQUARE: I. A mountain nymph. 2. A
rule. 3. A funeral oration. 4. The shield of-Minerva.
5. To align.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. Gait. 2. A governor.
3. A select body. 4. The father of Medea- (omit one
letter of his name). 5. Garments..
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. Raiment. 2. To sur-
render. 3. A remnant of burning wood: 4. A kind of
coarse basket. 5. To scatter loosely.
IV. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. To spread abroad.
2. The name for modern Thebes. 3. To emulate. 4. To
shun. 5. A principality of Great Britain.
V. LOWER SQUARE: I. To scatter. 2. A kind of
food. 3. One who rides. 4. The builder of a famous
wooden horse. 5. A Russian measure of length.
REPLACE the first group of. stars by a certain word;
then take a letter from this word without rearranging
the letters'and so form the other words indicated by stars.
Example, psalter, palter, paler.
I. John is a. * workman, and he will get
* % making the in time, although it
is a ** piece of work.
2. One of the bold ~* I ** of the Spanish main
often of hitting the * of his victims by
giving them two with his club.
3. A learned ~ *, one of the upper caste among
the Hindoos, having stated that the of a certain

ruler was composed of he was placed under
4 .
4. A *~* bi~* aing been. enacted to erect a
S* to a certain man formerly in the ** house,
the matter has been discussed enough to * any one.
5; The artist's singing of tle recitative ** *
every one; then he * *, a softer strain. Being
rurally inclined, the next .day he I the ground,
*"* the chimney-piece, and after he had * up
the horse, he went out to some new mown hay with
his brother .
6. The old tramp will "* in the dirt, *****
with all who will listen to him' and this he would con-
tinue to do till the * of the house came off, or a
high * blew him away. G. U. ESSER.

I. BEHEAD and curtail: obscurity, and leave a game.
2. Behead and curtail t-) clicrIh,. inr leave to sever.
3. Behead and curtail magCri;criet and leave sped.
4. Behead and curtail pierced, and leave a metallic sub-
stance. 5. Behead and curtail to snarl, and leave a tier.
6. Behead and curtail a fruit, and leave a light blow.
When the foregoing words have been rightly guessed,
arid placed one below another, before they are beheaded
and curtailed,, the six initial letters may all be found in
the word Caligula, and the six final letters spell a word
meaning to interfere. H. H. D.

I. I. PERTAINING to a great country. 2. An old say-
ing which has obtained credit by long use. 3. To an-
nex. 4. A Roman numeral. 5. A much used verb.
6. Surpassing. 7. Separately.
The central letters, reading downward, will spell an
instrument for smoothing clothes.
il. I. Curves. 2. To cut into thin pieces. 3. A
stately poetical composition proper to be set to music or
sung. 4. A Roman numeral. 5. A quadruped. 6. A
ledge. 7. A weapon intended to be thrown.
The central letters, reading downward, will spell am-
biguous propositions.

I AM composed of ninety-nine letters, and form a four-
line verse, by Alexander Smith.
My 74-92-8-23-53-97 is to wrench. My 48-14-80-
35-29 is to be conspicuous. My 66-41-5-87-63 is a
valued fabric. My 94-20-12 is much used in summer.
My 3-17-85-59-51-70 is a season. My 31-68-1-76 is one
of the United States. My 40-83-rI-33 is at that time.
My 32-89-45-37-65-19 is formerly. My 55-72-77-47-
99-56 is to hate. My 10-62-25-I6 is part of a clock.
My 6-52-96-26-78 is double. My 43-22-38-54-67 is
stately. My 49-57-84-39-86-15-73 is to make a loud
noise. My 81-28-93-13-98 is struck. My 30-24-36-
75-90-44 is dull. My 18-21-27-2-82-4-46-60 is oblique.
My 9-34-42-64 is to twist. My 79-69-88-95 is a musi-
cal instrument, and my 50-58-917-7--61 is a'peiformer



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