Front Cover
 A dash with dogs for life...
 The sea fight off the azores
 Winter trees
 Tom Paulding
 Lisbeth's song
 The first of the rattle snakes
 The Dickey boy
 To the summit of Pike's Peak by...
 After the game
 How they ride
 Russian children in the Ural...
 The new story of the apple pie
 Launcelot's tower
 The barber of Sari-ann
 Jericho Bob
 Profosser Chipmun surprising...
 How Johnny got a gun
 The letter-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00248
 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: VID00248
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
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    A dash with dogs for life or death
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
    The sea fight off the azores
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
    Winter trees
        Page 14
    Tom Paulding
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Lisbeth's song
        Page 24
        Page 25
    The first of the rattle snakes
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
    The Dickey boy
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    To the summit of Pike's Peak by rail
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    After the game
        Page 47
    How they ride
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Russian children in the Ural mountains
        Page 50
        Page 51
    The new story of the apple pie
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Launcelot's tower
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    The barber of Sari-ann
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Jericho Bob
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Profosser Chipmun surprising adventure
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    How Johnny got a gun
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    The letter-box
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 82
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

-i,- -'


-2_.- .- -. 'Sr-::i, .''; 2-2

L^^' s^_- *. '2 o:o. I


VOL. XIX. NOVEMBER, 1891. No. I.
Copyright, 1891, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



DOWN from the sunken door-step to the road,
Through a warm garden full of old-time flowers,
Stretches a pathway, where the wrinkled toad
Sits lost in sunlight through long summer hours.

Ah, little dream the passers in the street,
That there, a few yards from the old house door,
Just where the apple and the pear trees meet,
The noble deeds of old are lived once more!

That there, within the gold-lit wavering shade,
To Joan of Arc angelic voices sing,
And once again the brave inspired maid
Gives up her life for France and for her king.

Or now no more the fields of France are seen,-
They change to England's rougher, colder shore,
Where rules Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen,
Or where King Arthur holds his court once more.

The stupid village folk they cannot see;
Their eyes are old, and as they pass their way,
It only seems to them beneath the tree
They see a little dark-eyed girl at play.

(An Arctic Story Founded on Fact.)


FROM the northern part of Hudson's Bay,
already arctic in character, stretches far toward
the pole a deep inlet, which some early navi-
gator of those desolate polar shores has termed
Roe's Welcome-as if anything within that ice-
bound and lonely coast could be welcome to
a person just from civilization The name no
doubt was given in memory of some escape from
the drifting ice-packs, when the inlet furnished
refuge from one of the fierce storms of that polar
Roe's Welcome is a famed hunting-place for
the great polar whale, or "bowhead" as the
whalers call it. This huge whale, which is
indeed immense in size, often makes his home
among the great ice-packs and ice-fields of
the polar seas, and a goodly quantity of these
it finds in Roe's Welcome. But these ice-
packs, swinging to and fro with the tides, cur-
rents, and winds in such a long narrow inlet as
this, render navigation dangerous even for the
stanch whaling-ships, and they generally make
their fishing-grounds off the lower mouth of the
great inlet, where the cruising is much safer if
not always so profitable. Occasionally, when
some exceptionally good ice-master is in charge
of a whaler he dashes into the better fishing-
grounds for a short cruise; another less skilful,
lured by the brighter prospects, or discouraged
by a poor catch outside, enters the inlet, and
either reaps a rich harvest of oil and bone, or
wrecks his vessel. Or he may even escape,
after an imprisonment in the grip of the mer-
ciless ice-fetters for a year or two longer than
he had intended to stay.
Such was the fate of the good ship Glad-
iator," from a well-known whaling port in
southeastern Massachusetts. She sailed to the
northernmost end of the "Welcome," as the
whalers call it, and, after a most profitable
catch of "bowheads," had the ill-fortune to

remain firmly bound in the ice for two years.
During this long time, much longer than that
for which the vessel had been provisioned, the
crew were dependent on the many Eskimos
who clustered around the ship. The natives
supplied them with ample quantities of reindeer,
musk-ox, seal, and walrus-meat in return for
small quantities of molasses and coffee. Their
companionship, too, rude as it was, did much
to while away the dreary, lonely hours of the
two years' imprisonment.
But the lonesome and inactive life was most
trying to the more energetic of the crew.
Many ingenious expedients were resorted to
by both officers and men to keep themselves
free from mental and physical depression. Of
course many of these were friendly outdoor
games, near the ship, on the smooth ice-floe
that had formed around her. In these sports,
the Eskimos rudely but good-naturedly joined.
As the days grew longer, in the spring, walks
were taken, but when several of the sailors had
lost their way, orders were given that the ship
should be kept in sight on these excursions,
that not less than two white men should be
in a party, and that an Eskimo must be with
every party going more than a mile from the
The ship lay in a large bay, at the upper
end of the "Welcome," and her black masts
and hull against the white snow of the ice-field
could easily be seen many miles away from
the high shores of the frozen harbor.
But to one member of the crew were these
rules, forbidding the sailors to go ashore singly,
particularly disagreeable; for this young man,
though a common sailor in the forecastle, was
a man of some education, and had found his
pleasantest recreation in long solitary strolls, far
away from all signs of life. Feeling that he
was superior to those around him, especially to


the savages, in all qualities he valued, he in-
ferred that he must be at least their equal in
other respects. He therefore disliked to have
dull savages sent with him as guides to show
him the way home lest he should be lost on any
of his rambles. So he disregarded the orders
that had been issued for his own good.
One evening, in the early spring of the
second year's imprisonment, this young sailor
was missed from the ship's crew at a time when
all were usually aboard: he was missed at
Although from the meager description I have
given of him it might be inferred that he was
not popular, yet, though he had enjoyed his
lonely tramps till the orders cut them short, no
one was more jovial than he when the crew
gathered in the forecastle of the vessel. Indeed,
his good nature had made him very popular.
Consequently there was no little enthusiasm
shown in the search that followed. It was
so near night that little search was possible
before darkness would settle down, a darkness
so dense that nothing could be done. A large
lamp was swung from the masthead to guide
the wanderer home, for it was believed that
he could hardly be beyond sight of its rays,
and it was hoped that he would return before
A heavy fog came down about midnight, a
fog so dense that the lantern's rays cut but a
few yards through its heavy mist. Worst of
all, the morning saw no break in this thick
mist. It was thought that all search must be
fruitless, since the man was not likely to be
within the limited space that could be covered
by the voices of the searchers, or the noise of
their firearms. The danger most feared in this
part of the arctic regions was a pack of the
great polar wolves, for they sometimes band to-
gether and attack a traveler who is not well
armed. Even if unmolested, a lost wanderer
might even starve or freeze to death.
As early as daylight would permit, a number
of Eskimos were put on his track with orders to
trail him down and rescue him alive, or to bring
S back his body. Many parties were sent in
different directions and urged to do their best
to find the lost man. Then every one anxiously
awaited their return.

The prospect seemed unpromising. The
night had been cold enough to freeze a person
who should rest too long; and if the unfortu-
nate man had kept walking (unless he had gone
in a circle, or to and fro), it would make a long
search for the Eskimo a search that might not
be completed by nightfall.
About five o'clock in the afternoon, an hour
before dark, the weather turned colder and the
fog lifted, revealing the shores of the whole
great bay. The mate of the ship, telescope in
hand, ascended to the crow's-nest," the look-
out on the masthead, used when cruising in
search of whales, and he scanned the country
all around as closely as possible. A few of the
searching-parties were made out and reported
to those standing below on the ice. Then
what appeared to be the figure of a single man
was seen on the shore directly across the wide
bay, some ten miles distant.
A keen-eyed Eskimo was called up from
the throng to verify the mate's discovery. The
dark spot they saw was at that moment won-
derfully like a man sitting on the snow of the
hillside, and in a few moments, as the mate had
observed when he first saw it, it was moving.
The figure was closely watched. In a min-
ute or two the black spot elongated and moved
down to the shore-line; and the native ob-
server had no hesitation in announcing in loud
tones to those below that the figure was that of
a white man.
"Kod-loon-alz Kod-loon-ah (White man!
White man!) he yelled, in a voice that sent
the other Eskimos flying in every direction. As
the only other persons absent since morning were
the Eskimo search-parties, this figure could be
none other than the lost sailor.
Many Eskimos were looking for the absent
man, but very few of them had taken their dogs
and sledges, as it was easier to follow a trail on
foot; and, as a consequence, nearly all the dogs
were scattered around through the snow-village
near the ships, and the best sledges were lean-
ing against the snow-houses. In half an hour
it would be so dark that they could do little,
and the missing man must be reached before
that time. Instantly orders were given to
bring together all the best dogs of the village
with their harness on, while four or five men


hastily iced the runners of one of the best
sledges. Twenty dogs to a single sledge is
about the greatest number ever used by these
natives, and this large number is uncommon,

eight or nine being the usual team. This team,
however, increased to a score of dogs before
it was really known how strong it had grown,
and there were yet some twenty in harness in
the hands of the men, women, and boys who
had scurried around and picked them up, and
were now waiting to have them hitched to the
Fortunately, the very best dog-driver of the
village was present, and, having made a long
leading-line of strong sledge-lashing, reaching
from the sledge ten or twelve feet beyond the
team already hitched, he fastened on a new and
second team of twenty dogs. This doubling
of teams is not very unusual whenever two
or more sledges are together on a journey and

a short hard pull has to be made, but never in
the history of that region had a double team of
perhaps forty fine dogs been known, and espe-
cially to draw only an unloaded sledge!
It seemed impossible to
foretell how rapidly the
swift dogs would go with
that mere feather of a light
sledge fastened behind them.
It would be like fastening
two huge locomotives to a
hand-car and turning on all
steam. The sledge was kept
turned upside-down to pre-
vent the dogs from making
a bolt forward, which they
are prone to do when first
S hitched, whenever anything
Ahead attracts their atten-
tion; and, to assist the drivers
in this restraint of their ani-
mals, a great circle of sailors,
and Eskimo men, women,
and children formed in front
of the teams. The best driver
of the village turned the
S iced sledge over carefully
and took his position on the
right side of the slats, about
the middle of the sledge's
length, stretched out with his
] i feet to the rear. His com-
panion driver took a similar
position on the left side.
The best drivers can use the whip as well in
the left as in the right hand. These whips are
very long, the lash often being fifteen to twenty
feet in length. A strong lashing of seal thongs,
woven diagonally across the slats, gave the dog-
drivers something to hold on by in their peril-
ous flight across the ice-fields and hummocks
to the other side of the bay.
Over the front of the sledge lay one of the
drivers with a sharp knife in his hand. It was
his duty to cut the trace of any dog that should
fall, or of any whose harness was entangled in a
projecting hummock of ice, for in such a wild
flight there would be no time to unharness it,
and it would be dragged to death before the
sledge could be stopped. In fact it was very


doubtful whether such a team going at a wild,
excited gait could be stopped at all until it had
run some five or six miles, enough to take some
of the ardor out of the high-spirited animals.
When all was ready, the principal dog-driver
gave a signal to the crowd in front of his team,
and from the center they parted in both ways to
the sides, the dogs jumped on their feet at the
well-known warning sound, and started at a trot,
which, with a few cuts from the gantlet of
whips they had to run, aided by those of the
drivers, soon broke into a run, and then the
relief-party whisked out of sight like a rocket.
Its further movements could be seen and re-
ported only from the masthead. The race for
life or death was begun, and the enemy to con-
tend against was the approaching darkness.
Away went the sledge, bounding from the crest
of one snow-ridge to that of another, with not

a sign of sledge-track between,
long, almost level stretches. I
more it had gone so far that, ev
head, only its general movement
Meanwhile the drivers were al
ing small projecting hummoc

would have ripped the covering, or shoe of ice,
from the sledge-runners, and materially lessened
their rapid gait.
Anxiously the return of the party was awaited,
for it was a long distance to go in the short
time before darkness. It was nearly two hours
before they returned, and great was the rejoic-
ing of the crew at seeing the lost sailor with
them a rejoicing only exceeded by his own.
The return had been made very leisurely com-
pared with the splendid dash of ten miles out.
The width of the channel was well known
from accurate surveys. Of course there was
much curiosity to ascertain what part of the
time had been consumed in reaching the lost
man, and fortunately he had noted the time by
his watch when he first heard the clamor and
clatter of the approaching team and urging
drivers for in his terrible anxiety he was con-

.., ,, .'

except on a few stantly counting the rapidly receding minutes
n a few seconds as darkness approached. Careful calculations
en from the mast- showed that the dash of 'ten miles was made in
ts could be noted, twenty-two minutes and a half!- the fastest
ert to avoid strik- recorded long run with dogs and sledge in
ks of ice, which the polar regions.

-~ II f~ '-

-- .C'

---- -~i-:


'" OF the many who have read
and enjoyed Lord Tennyson's
noble ballad of "The Re-
venge," probably few know
much about the singular little
group of islands, lying well out in the North
Atlantic almost eight hundred miles from Por-
tugal, off which the famous fight celebrated by
the Laureate took place.
Nothing certain was known about the islands
until, about the middle of the fifteenth cen-
tury, an honest Flemish merchant, hard pressed
by stress of weather, took refuge under the lee
of their rocky and inhospitable coasts.
Tall, conical peaks of volcanic origin, and
wooded almost to the summits; high table-
lands covered with trees, shrubs, and tangled
undergrowth, and cloven at intervals by tre-
mendous ravines, down which the mountain-
torrents fling themselves foaming into the sea;
a coast rising everywhere into giant preci-
pices characterize these islands, and, as a final
touch to the weirdness of the scene, there is no
sound or sight of living thing except the hawks,

creatures as wild as the i,,.-
islands, that wheel and -'
hover over the cliffs, and
now and then dart like
lightning into the sea after fish.
It is from these birds that the islands derive
their name, the Portuguese word for hawk being
apor (plural afores); but the English naviga-
tors of the time called the group the "Western
Isles "; and doubtless, before the discovery of
America, it must have appeared to them situ-
ated far toward the mysterious realms of the
setting sun.
Our worthy Fleming, returning safely to Lis-
bon, whither he was bound, reported his dis-
covery to the Portuguese court, which, with
commendable enterprise, forthwith despatched
a navigator, Cabral, to make inquiries. In this
way the island of St. Mary's was discovered,
in 1432, but it was not till a quarter of a cen-
tury later that the position of the whole group
was ascertained. The finding of the Azores,
however, was a trifle compared with the mag-
nificent discovery of America sixty years later,

,- --

- .,y:



and there is little wonder that from that time a
mania for voyaging and for colonization began
to spread among the more adventurous spirits
of Europe.
This feeling, originating among the Spaniards
and Portuguese,--especially the latter, who were
most bold and successful navigators,-thence
by degrees extended to other maritime countries,
until, in 1584, nearly a century afterward, we
find two English captains, Philip Amadas and
Arthur Barlowe, making the first voyage to
Virginia. On their return, they gave such a
glowing description of the place to Sir Walter
Raleigh that the gallant sailor fitted out four
vessels on his own .account and put them in
charge of his cousin, Sir Richard Grenville, bid-
ding him proceed to the favored land, and
there found an English colony.
Now, Sir Richard was the man to do a thing
thoroughly. He made straight for Porto Rico
with his small squadron; called at Hispaniola,
where he had a friendly interview with the
Spanish governor and also with a friar, and
sailed thence to Florida, exploring in a flat-
bottomed boat a totally unknown river for more
than fifty miles. He soon planted his colony
securely, as he thought, and returned to Eng-
land, picking up a few unconsidered trifles
in the way of Spanish galleons on his voyage
home. The daring manner in which one of
these vessels was captured is a good illustration
of Grenville's reckless courage. He and his
men boarded her by means of a raft made out
of sea-chests, which fell to pieces as soon as it
touched the Spaniard's side. Sir Richard was
then forty-five years of age, but his impetuous
valor was as little tempered by discretion as
when, a fiery youth of sixteen, he volunteered
for the German army, and served through a
whole campaign against the Turks.
The Virginian colony did not prosper, and
Sir Richard, making a second voyage out there
with three ships, to succor the men he had left
behind, found to his dismay that all trace of the
little settlement had disappeared. The colo-
nists, in fact, becoming alarmed by the increasing
swarms of savages that surrounded them, had
been only too glad to get a passage home by an
earlier ship. This was certainly disappointing;
but Grenville, who was determined to retain a

hold on the country, settled fifteen other men
on the spot, with plenty of arms, and provisions
for two years.
There was a good deal of the old viking
spirit in Grenville; he came of the same famous
western stock that produced Sir Walter Raleigh,
his near relative, and many another skilful sea-
man and dauntless explorer.
We next hear of Grenville, in 1591, as vice-
admiral under Lord Thomas Howard of a fleet
which had been sent out to intercept the Span-
ish treasure-ships expected home in the autumn
of that year. On the 31st of August, the little
English squadron rode at anchor off Flores, the
most westerly island of the Azores. Things
had not been going very well with them. Many
of the sailors were down with coast-fever, so that
of the "Bonaventure's" crew not enough re-
mained to handle the mainsail, and ninety men
belonging to the Revenge" were on the sick
list. The remainder of the fleet was in little
better case, and, to make matters worse, they
had run short of water and provisions, and the
vessels were light for want of ballast. The
squadron consisted of the Revenge, Grenville's
ship, the "Defiance," which bore the flag of
Admiral Lord Thomas Howard, the Lion," the
Bonaventure, the "Foresight," and two small
The bright sun of the Azores illuminated a
bustling scene, on that August afternoon just
three hundred years ago. Boats laden with
ballast and fresh provisions were busily plying
between the vessels and the shore. More than
half the crews were ashore, haggling and chaf-
fering with the inhabitants in broken Spanish,
and thereby giving rise to altercations which
ended as often as not in blows -Jack being
very apt to cut short a tedious bargain. Now
and then Admiral Howard or Vice-Admiral
Grenville would sweep the horizon with anxious
glances, for the Spanish fleet was surmised to
be in the neighborhood, and its force, though
unknown, was likely to be considerable. Nothing
was to be seen, however, but the cloudless sky
and a sea, calm for the Atlantic, whereon the
blue waves rose and fell playfully, breaking here
and there into long white lines of foam.
After such a look around, we can imagine Sir
Richard Grenville, whose vessel lay nearest the


shore, calling out to his "lazy loons" to bestir
themselves if they did not wish to see the inside
of a Spanish prison.
Presently a cry announced a vessel in sight,
and a bark was made out running rapidly for
the shore under a press of canvas.
She turned out to be Captain Middleton's
ship, a fast boat which, trusting to the lightness
of her heels, had hung for several days on the
skirts of the Spanish fleet with the object of dis-
covering whither it was bound. Ascertaining
at last beyond a doubt that the "Dons" were
making for the Azores, Middleton had clapped
on all sail and made what speed he might for
Flores to acquaint Lord Thomas Howard of his
danger. Try as he might, however, he could
not quite shake off the Spanish ships, and they
were even now upon his track, fifty-three of
them, heavily armed and crowded with infantry.
The truth of the startling intelligence he
brought was soon demonstrated; for he had
barely delivered his tidings before the top-gal-
lant sails of the Spanish van were described
rising slowly above the horizon.
Soon ship after ship came in sight till the dis-
tant sea began to be dotted with white sails, and
every moment their numbers increased. More
threatening still, another squadron which had
stood in-shore, and whose approach had hitherto
been hidden by a bend of the coast, now sud-
denly appeared within half-an-hour's sail.
It was time to act, and that promptly. To en-
gage an armada of fifty-three sail with a mi-
nute fleet of six ships, two being but of small size
and all light in ballast and short of hands, would
have been madness. The English admiral saw
plainly that his duty was to preserve, if possible,
the ships and lives intrusted to him, and not to
sacrifice them in an unequal struggle which
could have but one termination.
The whole Spanish fleet was now in sight,
stretching far along the horizon, and minutes
becameprecious. The boatswains' shrill whistles
piped from the English decks, bringing the sail-
ors crowding down to the beaches, whence
they were hurried on board their respective
vessels. Sail was made in haste, and the little
fleet stood out to sea, some of the ships having
to slip their cables, owing to the pressure of
time. Howard's one chance of escape was to

get to windward of the Spaniards, and this,
thanks to dexterous seamanship, he succeeded
in doing, in spite of all the manceuvers of his
One vessel, however, still lay off the land
neglecting to avail herself of the single chance
of safety. This was Sir Richard Grenville's ship,
the Revenge. Many of her crew lay sick ashore,
and till these were safe Grenville refused to
budge an inch for all the Dons in Spain. Not
a man of his, he said, should be left behind to
endure the horrors of a Spanish prison. By the
time the last of the sick had been got on board,
the Spanish squadron lay well on the weather-
bow. When at length the Revenge began to
move through the water it became clear to all
on board that she could escape only by a miracle.
The one course which offered a prospect of suc-
cess, as the master pointed out, was to tack
right about and run before the wind showing a
clean pair of heels to the Spaniards. But Gren-
ville's blood was up, and, like a wild animal when
baited too closely, he turned at bay. He utterly
refused to fly from the enemy, alleging that he
would rather die than dishonor himself, his
country, and Her Majesty's ship, and persuading
his companions that he would pass through the
two squadrons in despite of them, and compel
the Spaniards to give way."
So the Revenge stood right on toward the
foe, and soon came up with the foremost galleon
of the Spanish fleet, as she careened along under
her heavy top-hamper and crushed the water
into foam beneath her huge bows. The Revenge,
however, being very skilfully handled, compelled
the bulky galleon to luff up and fall under her
lee, and served the next, and the next, in the
same way.
Lord Thomas Howard and the rest, hovering
to windward, and regarding these proceedings
with intense anxiety, began to think that the
daring vice-admiral would escape after all.
But it was not to be.
About three o'clock in the afternoon, the great
"San Philip," a vessel of some fifteen hundred
tons, ran right up to the little Revenge, and,
towering above the English ship, took the wind
out of her sails and brought her to a standstill.
The San Philip's decks were crowded with eight
hundred infantrymen, and her three tiers of guns


yawned threateningly. As she drove down upon
the Revenge, her hull burst into a sheet of flame,
a fierce musketry-fire was kept up all along her
poop-deck, and a hurricane of lead swept across
the English ship. Through the rolling smoke,
the Spanish soldiers could be seen dropping
down in numbers upon the Revenge's deck,
and making no doubt of capturing her out of
hand. Sir Richard had only a hundred well
men on board with him, but each of these was,
like himself, a hero. The Spanish soldiers who
boarded were repulsed; and suddenly letting
fly with his whole lower tier of guns Grenville
completely riddled the San Philip's hull. The
English cannon were loaded with cross-bar shot,
and the effect of this point-blank discharge must
have been tremendous, for the huge Spaniard
actually sheered off, utterly misliking her first
entertainment." No sooner, however, had the
San Philip been temporarily disposed of than
four other ships ran up, and began to pour their
men upon the decks of the Revenge.
What followed seems almost incredible. It
must be remembered that the Spanish infantry
were at that time considered the finest in Europe.
They had overrun Italy, conquered the Nether-
lands, and penetrated into the heart of South
America. It was these redoubtable soldiers who
scrambled by hundreds down the sides and
dropped from the rigging of their ships upon
the beleaguered decks of the Revenge. Sir
Richard bore himself like a paladin, nor were his
men a whit unworthy of him. Again and again
the boarding-parties were repulsed. Grenville
and his crew fought as men have seldom done
before or since. The Revenge was girdled con-
stantly by a belt of flame as she poured her shot
into the enemies on either side of her, receiving
in turn their broadsides and the spattering mus-
ketry-fire which rained down from their decks
and rigging. Eventually the English ship shook
herself clear of all her foes. Shot-torn as she
was, she had given still worse than she had re-
ceived, and the four great Spaniards hauled off,
having for the time no wish for the fight.
Then for a while there was a brief breathing-
time, welcome indeed to men who had fought
without ceasing for nearly three hours beneath
the warm rays of a semi-tropical sun. They lay
panting on the decks, completely exhausted.

Not a few took the opportunity of caring for
and binding up their wounds, and Sir Richard
himself, having been hit by a shot, paid a hasty
visit to the surgeon.
Suddenly a hearty English cheer rang over
the waters to leeward of them. Hope bright-
ened in the men's eyes, and they looked around
eagerly. Perhaps Howard had changed his
mind, after all, and returned, resolved at all risks
to help the Revenge in her sore strait. Alas,
no! It was only one of the little provision-ships
commanded by George Noble of London, who,
moved by the sight of this unequal struggle,
determined that he, at all events, would stand
by Sir Richard to the last, and so placed him-
self under his orders. But the vice-admiral
refused to take advantage of this useless self-
devotion. "Save yourself," he replied charac-
teristically, "and leave me to my fortune." So
plucky George Noble of London drew off with
a sigh, and had his work cut out for him to run
successfully the gantlet of the Spaniards.
The short interval of precious rest was now
well-nigh over. From all sides the Seville
galleons were bearing down upon the English
ship, looking, as they did so, like huge white
birds winging toward their prey. The sun,
broadening toward its descent, made a glory
of the western sea, and touched with fire the
white sails of the advancing Spaniards. Down
came the Dons again, wrapped in smoke and
flame, amid the thunder of their cannon. Fresh
ships were these, eager for the glory of captur-
ing this obstinate Englishman, who fought, they
said, as if he were possessed by a demon. Sir
Richard's voice rang trumpet-like through his
ship. His men sprang to their guns, and once
more the fierce struggle began amid the peaceful
splendors of the sunset, and continued beneath
the stars of the summer night.
Strive as they might, the Spanish galleons could
not take this single small English ship which lay
hemmed in by their fleet and unable to escape
them. In vain they plied her with broadsides
and volleys of musketry, and poured their sol-
diery upon her decks.
Ship after ship hauled off from the sides
of the Revenge; others immediately took their
places, and the unequal struggle was kept up far
into the night. An hour before midnight Sir


Richard received a shot in the body. Going The Spanish ships were fairly beaten off, and
below to have his wound dressed, he was hit in hung round sullenly, watching their opportunity,
the head by another musket-ball, while the sur- like hounds about a wounded boar. But the Re-
geon in attendance fell by his side. Sir Richard, venge's bolt was shot, had they but known it.
though sorely wounded, still struggled on deck, Her power had given out, more than half her
and directed his men. crew were killed or disabled, and her com-
Toward morning the fight began to slacken. mander himself lay mortally wounded. Sir


Richard with this one small ship had engaged
the whole force of the Spanish fleet for over
twelve hours. According to Raleigh's compu-
tation, the Revenge had received eight hundred
shot of artillery besides sustaining numerous
assaults, and still remained unconquered.
That such a thing should have been possible
is a proof of wild firing on the part of the Span-
iards; for the Revenge would have been
shivered to splinters had the Spanish guns been
properly directed. And the lofty sides of their
great galleons rendered it difficult to depress
their cannon low enough to strike effectively
the hulls of the smaller English ships.
Jacob Wheddon, of the provision-ship Pil-
grim," who had hung about all night with his
vessel in the vague hope of assisting Grenville,
or at least of ascertaining his fate, saw a singu-
lar spectacle as the sun rose that morning.
There lay the Revenge rising and falling in-
ertly on the Atlantic swell. Not a stick was
standing aboard her. Her bulwarks were shot
away, leaving the decks flush with the sea.
Around her in a wide circle lay the Spanish ships,
some of them bearing evident marks of rough
handling, and none showing any disposition to
attack the Revenge, helpless log though she
seemed. Two of their number had been sunk
by Grenville's fire, and the rest were quite un-
certain what power of resistance the English
vessel still possessed, or when those dogged is-
landers would choose to consider themselves
beaten. Wheddon had no time to make a closer
examination, for the Spaniards were after him in
a trice, and he was obliged to double like a hare
to escape.
The sick men, for whose sake Grenville had
fought this desperate battle, meanwhile lay below
in the hold of the Revenge.
Sir Richard, sitting desperately wounded on
deck, looked around him and reflected. The
gunpowder had given out he knew, and to
fight the ship longer was impossible; running
away, too, in the absence of spars and masts was
equally out of the question. He was aware also
that the Spaniards were held in check only by
their dread of him, and that any moment one
might stand in and deliver her fire, thereby
discovering his helplessness. He summoned
around him the remnant of his people, includ-

ing the captain, the master, and the master-
gunner. Now this same master-gunner was a
man after Sir Richard's own heart, a determined
sea-dog and resolute to follow his commander
wherever he might lead.
In a few words Sir Richard explained to his
men the plan he proposed to follow. It was
very simple: namely, to sink the ship and go
to the bottom with it. This course at once
commended itself to the master-gunner and
received his cordial assent; some others of the
crew also supported it--less heartily. But the
captain, the ship-master, and the rest were of
another mind altogether.
"After such a fight," said they, "the Span-
iards would certainly give quarter, and those
who were yet alive might be preserved to fight
again for their queen and country."
"Nay," said Sir Richard, "the Spaniards
shall never have the glory of taking this ship,
seeing that we have so long and so valiantly
defended ourselves."
To this speech the extremely practical an-
swer was made that the ship had six feet of
water in her hold, that she had been hulled
three times below the water-line, and that to
move her was impossible, for at the least
disturbance she would founder.
Sir Richard, however, would listen to none
of these arguments, and in this he was backed
up by the master-gunner. While the wrangle
was going on, the ship-master slipped away
and got himself conveyed on board the Span-
ish admiral's vessel. He found the admiral,
Don Alonso Bassan, very loath to meddle fur-
ther with Grenville, and convinced that the
arrival of the first Spaniard on board the Re-
venge would be a signal for Sir Richard to blow
into the air the ship and all it contained. The
master at once took advantage of the admiral's
ignorance of Grenville's resources, and in the
end, owing to the mingled fear and admiration
the Spaniards entertained for Grenville, and their
desire to secure his person, the English got very
favorable terms. The lives of all were spared, a
passage to England was granted them, and those
only who could afford it were to pay ransom.
With this good news, the master hastened
back to the Revenge, and no sooner did the
men become aware of the terms offered them


than the few who had supported Grenville
deserted to his opponents, so that he was left.
without a follower except the master-gunner.
Soon many of the Spanish boats had come
alongside, and the men, not knowing what Sir
Richard might be at, and afraid of stopping on
board with him, slipped over the side one by
one, and were conveyed to the Spanish fleet.
Finding himself completely deserted, Sir
Richard at last gave way and allowed himself
to be transported from the Revenge. He was
treated with humanity- by the Spaniards, who
entertained the highest admiration for his cour-
age, but he expired some three days after-
ward. His last words are said to have been:
"Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful
and quiet mind; for that I have ended my life
as a true soldier ought to do."
Most of the English prisoners reached their

native land in safety, and it is from their narra-
tives that the original account of the action was
Grenville has been blamed for his reckless-
ness, but it is difficult to enter fully into the
feelings of his time and so get at the exact
motives that influenced him. No doubt had he
lived in our own days his valor would scarcely
be held to have excused his rashness. But in
Sir Richard's mind life was a feather weighed
against his ideas of honor.
Freebooters they may have been, those dar-
ing sailors of the days of Queen Bess," with a
hound-like scent for Spanish treasure-ships and
caring little for the blood-stains on the doub-
loons they captured. But they lived in rough
times. And as an example of courage pure and
simple, this fight off the Azores is not excelled
by any action in the annals of the British navy.

7i /



WHO finds the trees of winter bleak
Has not the poet's sight.
They bear gold sunrise fruit at dawn,
And silver stars at night.

All day they prop the lowering clouds,
No respite do they ask
And they sing in voices deep and wild,
Like giants at a task.

(A Tale of Treasure Trove in the Streets of New York.)


This is a story of buried treasure in the streets of New York, and this first chapter describes the locality where
Tom Pauldinig began the search. Any reader who has conscientious objections to descriptions may skip this, and
begin the story with the next chapter. Later he can come back to this if he then sees the need of it.-B. M.


N every great
s city there are

fastnesses as
6li unexplored
little knownto
oe athe world at
large as is the
heart of the
Dark Conti-
bnent. Now
and again it
happens that a sudden turn in the tide of busi-
ness or of fashion brings into view these hitherto
unexplored regions. Then there begins at
once a struggle between the old and the new,
between the conditions which obtained when
that part of the city was ignored, and those
which prevail now that it has been brought
to the knowledge of men. The struggle is
sharp, for a while; but the end is inevitable.
The old cannot withstand the new; and in
a brief space of time the unknown region
wakes up, and there is a fresh life in all its
streets; there is a tearing down, and there is
a building up; and in a few months the place
ceases to be old, although it has not yet be-
come new.
During this state of transition there are many
curious changes; and a pair of sharp eyes can
see many curious things.
In the Island of Manhattan, there is more
than one undiscovered country of this kind;
and in a city as active and as restless as New
York it is only a question of time how soon
such a quarter shall be discovered, and rescued

from neglect. Though a place may have been
abandoned for a century, sooner or later some
one will find it out again. Though it may
have been left on one side during the forced
march of improvement, sooner or later some one
will see its advantages, and will make them plain.
At the time of this story, when our hero, young
Tom Paulding, set forth upon his quest for
buried treasure, in the ninth decade of the nine-
teenth century, the quarter of New York where
he lived, and where he sought what had been
lost more than a hundred years before, was
passing through a period of transition. This
part of New York lies above Central Park,
back of Morningside Park and beside the
Hudson River, where the Riverside drive
stretches itself out for two miles and more
along the brow of the wooded hill.
This portion of the city has much natural
beauty and not a little historic interest. Just
beyond the rocky terrace of Morningside Park
was fought the battle of Harlem Plains on
September 16, 1776. Then it was that the
British troops, having occupied the lower part
of the island, assaulted the Continental forces,
and were beaten back. For days thereafter,
General Washington had his headquarters
within a mile or two of the spot where Gen-
eral Grant now lies buried.
In the fourscore years which elapsed be-
tween the retirement of Washington from the
presidency of these United States and the elec-
tion of Grant to that exalted position, the part
of Manhattan Island where Tom Paulding
lived, and where his father, and his grandfather,
and his great-grandfather had lived before him,
changed very little. In 1876 it seemed almost
as remote from the centers of trade and of


fashion as it had been in 1776. Although it
was not out of town, it was beyond the beaten
track of traffic. Just before the Revolution,
and immediately after it, handsome country-
seats had been built here and there on the
heights overlooking the Hudson. And here
and there, on the rocky knobs that thrust them-
selves up through the soil, squatters had since
set up their little wooden shanties, increasing in
number as the edges of the city spread out
nearer and nearer.
In time the Riverside drive was laid out
along the river; and then the transformation
began. Day by day there were changes, and
year by year the neighborhood was hardly
Here had been one of the few spots on
Manhattan Island where nature was allowed to
run wild and to do as she thought best, unim-
peded by man; and by great good fortune, the
advancing tide of city life was not allowed to
overwhelm altogether the natural beauty of the
region. The irregularities of the surface were
planed over, it is true; streets were cut through
the walls of rock which then arose in jagged
cliffs high above the sidewalks on both sides,
and avenues were carried across sunken mead-
ows, leaving deep, wide hollows where the
winter snows collected.
Around the shanties which were perched
upon the rocks sheer above the new streets,
goats browsed on the scanty herbage; and
down in the hollows which lay below the level
of the same thoroughfares, geese swam about
placidly, and squawked when a passing boy
was carelessly cruel enough to throw a stone at
the peaceful flock.
It is a region of contrasts as it is a time of
transition. In one block can be seen the old
orchard which girt about one of the handsome
country-places built here early in the century;
and in the next can be seen the frames of a
market-gardener, who is raising lettuce under
glass, on ground which the enterprising builder
may demand any day. The patched and
weather-stained shanty of the market-gardener
may be within the shadow of a new marble
mansion with its plate-glass conservatory. An
old wooden house with a Grecian portico is
torn down to make room for a tall flat, stretch-

ing itself seven stories high, with accommo-
dation for a dozen families at least. The
builder is constantly at work. The insignificant
whistle of his engine announces the morning;
and the dull report of blasting is of daily fre-
With its many possibilities, this is perhaps the
part of New York where a boy can find the
most wholesome fun. He is in the city, al-
though he has many of the privileges of the
country. He can walk under trees and climb
hills; and yet he is not beyond the delights of
the town. There are long slopes down which
he may coast in winter; and there are as yet
many vacant lots where he may play ball in
summer. There is the Morningside Park with
its towering battlements, just the place for a
sham fight. There is the Riverside Park with
its broad terrace extending nearly three miles
along the river front, and with its strip of
woodland sloping steeply to the railroad track
by the river.
It is a place with nearly every advantage that
a boy can wish. For one thing, there is unceas-
ing variety. If he takes a walk by the parapet
of the Riverside, the freight-trains on the rail-
road below rush past fiercely, and are so long
that the engine will be quite out of sight before
the caboose at the end comes into view. From
the brow of the hill the moving panorama of the
Hudson unrolls itself before him; above are the
Palisades rising sheer from the water's edge and
crowned with verdure; opposite is Weehawken,
and just below are the Elysian Fields, now sadly
shorn of their green beauty. No two views of
the river are ever alike, except possibly in win-
ter when the stream may freeze over. In the
summer there is an incessant change; yachts
tack across against the breeze; immense tows
of canal-boats come down drawn by one broad
and powerful steamboat, and pert little tugs
puff their way up and down, here and there.
The day-boats go up every morning and the
night-boats follow them every evening. Excur-
sions and picnic parties go by in double-decked
barges, lashed together side by side, and gay
with flags and music. Sometimes a swift steam-
yacht speeds up stream to West Point, and
sometimes a sloop loaded with brick from
Haverstraw drifts down with the tide.


- ~ o- --


tio n !' r.l I. r,., i i.,- .i.rl'..: I ,; L.j r ,
is to i, i- h : .- l. ". I .- t! ,! i1E r.-.r .,:r -ri h rh rl. i
following pages. It is time now to introduce Tom Pauld-
ing himself; to show you what manner of boy he was; to
make you acquainted with his friends and companions;
to explain how it happened that his uncle returned home
in time to advise; and to tell how it was that he set out
to find the treasure. What the final result of his quest
was will be fully shown in this narrative; but whether
or not Tom Paulding was successful in his endeavor, every
reader must decide for himself.
VOL. XIX.-2.

On land there is a change almost
as incessant. Buildings are going up
everywhere; shanties are being torn
down; and streets are being cut
through here and filled up there, and
paved, and torn up again to lay pipe,
and repaired again, and torn up yet
once more. There is a constant
effort toward the completion of the
Riverside Park, and of Morning-
i.c- l-'jrk L.ut 1 I L.i.:k be-
-- ,,n.ji it. T!ire :ilU._ rl'- new
S ci.ieiW .. t, irl.nn in rni. re v, water
fi.orin th, i 'r.:,ro hil! t[:, the
i i-,,:, r .-I ,1 ,1 ti er. 7 Hlie -,!r.%,
l oi in P:. il.lin h rit saw
Ih: I' :i r it v ...rk .' [ii11 *[ great
', .iiJcrtI ~iiir. I-h. hr ow
-t, i -4ir' ri.- ,, '\,_r i. o_. J one
Sj ,' ',' 1-,, r.> id n il i ii'. ,.i.-: or
ch .:l -1 I'r cc rc lay-
in t- ~~~: i-i l:' i i..." ii deep
freni. ehI i ,:r,.: r r. :,.;i[ l would
iiri,'t r. i\ _n i l In ii'm their ;iid.

4, ,-! l ..
,. i ,

7 QI




N one of the
side streets ex-
tending east-
Sll' i ward from the
Riverside Park,
a dozen boys
were gathered
about a barrel,
T hi which had been
r raised on four
stones. It was
late in the after-
noon of the
Tuesday following the first Monday in No-
vember; and the boys were about to exercise
the immemorial privilege of young New York-
ers on election night. Between the stones
which supported the barrel were two or three
crumpled newspapers and a heap of shavings.
Within the wooden chimney of the barrel itself
were the sides of a broken box, six or eight
short boards, and such other combustible odds
and ends as the boys had been able to get to-
gether against the coming of the fiery holiday.
The impromptu altar had been erected almost
in the middle of the street; but as there was
scarcely a house within a block on either side,
and as few carriages or carts needed to come
down that way, there was little danger that the
bonfire of the Black Band would frighten any
When the shavings had been inspected, and
he had made sure that the flames would be able
to rise readily through the improvised flue, the
boy who seemed to be the leader looked
around and said, Who 's got a match ? "
Here 's a whole box! cried little Jimmy
Wigger, thrusting himself through the ring of'
youngsters ranged about the barrel. He was
the smallest boy of all, and he was greatly
pleased to be of service.
Are you going to set it off now, Cissy ? a
tall thin lad asked.
"Well I am!" answered the boy who had
been making ready for the fire. "We said that
we 'd start it up at five o'clock, did n't we ? "
The speaker was a solidly built young fellow

of about fourteen, with a round, good-natured
face. His name was Marcus Cicero Smith; his
father always called him Cicero," and among
his playfellows and companions he was known
as Cissy," for short.
A timid voice suggested, "What 's your
hurry, Cissy ? Tom Paulding is n't here yet."
This voice belonged to Harry Zachary, a
slim boy of scant thirteen, shy in manner and
hesitating in speech. He had light golden
hair and light blue eyes.
If Tom Paulding 's late," replied Cissy, as
he stooped forward and set fire to the paper
and shavings, "so much the worse for Tom,
that 's all. He knows the appointed hour as
well as we do."
"I 'd just like to know what is keeping Tom.
He 's not often late," said the tall thin lad who
had spoken before, and as he said it he twisted
himself about, looking over his shoulders with
a strange spiral movement. It was partly on
account of this peculiar habit of self-contor-
tion that he was generally addressed as Cork-
screw." But that nickname had been given
also because of his extraordinary inquisitive-
ness. His curiosity was unceasing and inordi-
nate. It is to be recorded, moreover, that he
had straight red hair, and that his thin legs
were made more conspicuous by a large pair
of boots, the tops of which rose above his
knees. His real name was George William
As the wood in the barrel kindled and blazed
up, the boys heaped on more fuel from a pile
outside their circle. While taking a broken
board from the stack, little Jimmy Wigger
looked up and saw a figure approaching. The
street where they were assembled had been
cut through high rocks which towered up on
each side, irregular and jagged. Twilight had
begun to settle down on the city, and in the
hollow where the roadway ran between the
broken crags.there was little light but that of
the bonfire. It was difficult to make out a
stranger until he was close upon them.
"Some one is coming! cried little Jimmy,
glad that he had again been able to be useful.
The approaching figure stood still at once.
The group about the fire spread open, and
Cissy careened forward a few feet. He had al-


ways a strange swing in his walk, not unlike the
rolling gait of a sailor.
When he had swung ahead four or five paces
he paused, and raising his fingers to his lips, he
gave a shrill whistle with a peculiar cadence:

The stranger also stood still, and made the
expected answer with a flourish of its own:
Answer. =:_ =__--_=:

"It 's Tom Paulding," said Harry Zachary.
I wonder what has made him so late,"
Corkscrew remarked.
Cissy Smith took another step forward, and
cried, "Who goes there? "
The new-comer also advanced a step, which
brought him into the glare of the blazing barrel.
He was seen to be a well-knit boy of barely four-
teen, with dark brown eyes and curly black hair.
To Cissy's challenge he answered in a clear
voice, A friend of the Black Band."
Advance, friend of the Black Band, and
give the countersign and grip."
Each of the two boys took three paces for-
ward, and stood face to face.
The new-comer bent forward and solemnly
whispered in Cissy's ear the secret password
of the Black Band, Captain Kidd."
With the same solemnity, Cissy whispered
back, "As he sailed." Then he extended his
right hand.
Tom Paulding grasped this firmly in his own,
slipping his little finger between Cissy's third
and little fingers; then he pressed the back of
Cissy's hand three times with his own thumb.
These proper formalities having been ob-
served with due decorum, the boys released their
grasp and walked together to the bonfire.
"What made you so late, Tom?" asked
My mother kept me while she finished a
letter to my Uncle Dick that she wanted me to
mail for her," Tom Paulding replied; and
besides I had to find my dark lantern."
Have you got it here ? said Cissy.
Oh, do let me see it!" cried little Jimmy

Tom Paulding unbuttoned his jacket and
took the lantern from his belt. There was at
once perceptible a strong odor of burnt var-
nish; but the circle of admiring boys did not
mind this. The 'possession of a dark lantern
increased their admiration for its owner, who
was a favorite, partly from his frank and pleas-
ant manner, and partly because of his ingenuity
in devising new sports. It was Tom Paulding
who had started the Black Band, a society of
thirteen boys all solemnly bound to secrecy and
to be faithful, one to another,. whatever might
befall. Cissy Smith, as the oldest of the thir-
teen, had been elected captain, at Tom's sug-
gestion, and Tom himself was lieutenant.
Is it lighted? little Jimmy Wigger asked,
as he caught sight of a faint spot of light at
the back of the dark lantern in Tom's hand.
"Of course it is," Tom replied, and he turned
the bull's-eye toward the rugged wall of rocks
which arose at the side of the street, and pulled
the slide. A faint disk of light appeared on
the stones.
"That's bully! said Harry Zachary, in his
usual hesitating voice. I wish I had one "
"What good is a dark lantern, anyhow? "
asked Corkscrew Lott, who was almost as
envious as he was curious. "What did you
bring it out for?"
"Well," Tom answered, "I had a reason.
We had n't agreed what the Black Band was
to be this evening; and I thought if we were
burglars, for instance, it would be useful to
have a dark lantern."
Hooray! said Cissy. Let's be burglars."
There was a general cry of assent to this
A burglar always has a dark lantern," Tom
went on, and he 'most always has a jimmy-"
"Well, where 's your jimmy ? interrupted
Here it is," Tom answered, taking a dark
stick from its place of concealment in the back
of his jacket. It ought to be iron, you know;
a jimmy 's a sort of baby crowbar. But I made
this out of an old broomstick I got from our
Katie. I whittled it down to the right shape
at the end, and then I polished it off with
blacking and a shoe-brush. It does look like
iron, does n't it? "


The jimmy was passed from hand to hand,
and met with general approval. Even Cork-
screw Lott had no fault to find with it.
"We ought to have everything real burglars
have, if we are going into the burgling busi-
ness," added Tom.
If we are burglars," said little Jimmy Wig-
ger, in a plaintive voice, can't we begin burg-
ling soon? Because my aunt says I must be
home by eight this evening, sure."
I said it was a mistake to let that baby into

Now, if there was one thing which annoyed
Tom more than another, it was that his hair
was curly, "like a girl's" as he had said in
disgust to his sister only that morning. And if
there was any member of the Black Band to-
ward whom he did not feel a brotherly cordial-
ity, it was Lott.
Look here, Corkscrew," he said hotly, you
let my hair alone, or I '11 punch your head "
"You had better not try it," returned Lott.
"You could n't do it."


the Black Band," Corkscrew remarked; "a
pretty burglar he '11 make!"
"Yes, I will!" cried little Jimmy, sturdily;
" I '11 make as good a burglar as you any day "
I could tell you stories about burglars that
would make your hair curl," said Harry Zach-
ary, noticing that little Jimmy had shrunk back.
"Then tell them to Tom Paulding," Lott
cried; "he likes to have his hair curl. I be-
lieve he puts it up in curl-papers!"

"We '11 see about that, if you say anything
more against my hair! Tom replied.
"I '11 say what I please," responded Corkscrew.
By this time Tom had recovered his temper.
"Say what you please," he answered, "and if it
does n't please me, we '1 have it out. The sooner
we do, the better; for I don't believe we can get
through the winter without a fight, and I sha'n't
be sorry to have it over."
"Silence in the ranks," ordered the Captain


of the Black Band, as he saw that Lott was
ready to keep up the quarrel. "Is it agreed
that we are to be burglars ?"
No," answered Corkscrew quickly, before
any of the others could speak. We have n't
got all the things. Let 's be Indians on the
war-path. We 've got a bully fire now, and it 's
the only night we can have it. So we can play
we've a captive, and we can burn him at the
stake, and have a scalp-dance around the barrel."
That's a good idea," Harry Zachary agreed.
"They won't let us have a bonfire except on
election night."
That 's so," Cissy admitted.
Lott saw his advantage and seized it promptly.
We can be burglars any time," he cried, if
we want to. But to-night's the best time to be
Indians. It 's our only chance to burn a cap-
tive at the stake."
"We might make him run the gantlet first,"
suggested Harry Zachary, who was a delicate
boy of a very mild appearance, but strangely
fertile in sanguinary suggestions.
"Let little Jimmy Wigger be the captive,"
Lott proposed. "We won't hurt him much."
No, you don't," Tom Paulding interposed.
"Little Jimmy is too young. Besides, when
his aunt let him join the Black Band, I pro-
mised that I would keep him out of mischief."
Then who '11 run the gantlet ? asked Lott,
"I will," Tom answered. "I 'd just as lief.
In fact, I 'd liefer. I 've never been burned
at the stake yet, and the Sioux shall see how
a Pawnee can die! "
Then, at the command of Cissy Smith, the
Black Band formed in a double row facing
inward, and Tom Paulding ran the gantlet.
When he came to the end of the lines he broke
away, and the whole troop pursued him. After
a sharp run he was caught, and brought back
to the bonfire. More fuel was heaped upon
this, and it blazed up fiercely. A stake was
driven into the ground not far from the fire,
and Tom was tied to it, with his hands behind
him. Then, under the leadership of Cissy
Smith, the Black Band circled about the fire
and the stake, with Indian yells and shrill
whistles. As the flames rose and fell on the
shouting boys and on the broken rocks which

towered high above them on both sides, an
imaginative spectator might almost have fan-
cied himself gazing at some strange rite of the
redskins in a far cafion of Colorado.

-BOUT six o'-
clock Jimmy
Wigger's aunt
came for him.
He begged
hard for only
a few minutes

SP did not yield
and he went
14 away reluc-
tantly. Other
members of the Black Band remembered that their
suppers would be waiting for them; and soon the
assembly broke up. The smaller boys were the
first to go, and the Captain and Lieutenant of
the Black Band were the last to leave the blaz-
ing barrel which now was almost burnt out.
Tom Paulding had released himself from the
bonds that bound him to the stake; and as he
was stooping over the embers to warm his
hands, Cissy Smith proposed that they should
go for a walk through the woods between the
Riverside drive and the river. Tom agreed at
once, and asked Harry Zachary to come also.
Corkscrew Lott had started off ahead of
them, but at the first corner he, too, joined
the group.
The boys walked down the street four
abreast, Cissy rolling along irregularly in his
usual fashion. They crossed the Riverside
Drive and stood for a minute at the head of
the stone steps that led to the strip of steep
woodland below. There was a sharp whistle in
the distance, and then an advancing roar; and
a short passenger train rushed rapidly past
them, the flying white steam from the engine
reddened by the glare from the furnace as the
fireman threw in fresh fuel. Out on the broad
river beyond, one of the night-boats went up
the river, its rippling wake gleaming in the
bluish moonlight.


"I wonder why little Jimmy's aunt came for
him so early," said Corkscrew, twisting himself
up on the parapet to get a good look over it.
If she 'd found him tied to the stake, and
the Black Band scalp-dancing all around him,
she 'd have been 'most scared out of a year's
growth, I reckon," Harry Zachary commented.
His mother was a Kentuckian, and it was from
her that he learned his gentle ways and his
excellent manners. He had taken also from
her an occasional Southern phrase not com-
mon in New York.
"I don't believe it would be much fun to
be an Indian really," Cissy remarked. "I
guess they have a pretty hard time of it when
it 's cold and rainy leastwise those I 've
seen West did n't seem any too set up and
happy." Cissy's father, Dr. Smith, had only
a short time before removed to New York from
"Have you seen real Indians out West ? "
asked Tom Paulding. "Were they on the
war-path ? "
"Not much they were n't. They were coming
into the agency to get their rations," Cissy
"Did you kill any of 'em when you had
the chance?" asked Harry in his usual timid
"I did n't kill 'em. Of course not," Cissy
responded. "Why should I ?"
Tom Paulding was kindly by nature, but he
was a little disappointed to learn that his friend
had neglected a chance to kill a redskin.
Perhaps you 've never read a book called
'Nick of the Woods' ?" Harry Zachary in-
quired. "That tells all about a man they
called the Jibbenainosay, who lived in the
forest and killed Indians, and marked every
man he killed so that they should know the
handiwork of the Mysterious Avenger."
My Uncle Dick, when he went up to the
Black Hills, had a fight with the Indians," said
How many did he kill ? asked Corkscrew,
He did n't know," replied Tom, "but-"
"If he did n't know how many he killed
what was the use of talking about it ?" Harry
Zachary asked. "That is n't any way to do.

The best plan is to be alone in the woods, and
take 'em by surprise, and kill 'em, one by one,
and mark 'em."
"And suppose one of them takes you by
surprise and kills you, what then ? Cissy
"I reckon I 'd have to take my chances, if I
was an Avenger," Harry admitted. But in the
books they 'most always get the best of it."
Let 's go down to the water as we said we
would," suggested Cissy.
Look at that schooner," Tom cried, as they
were going down the long stone stairway.
"She 's a beauty, and no mistake."
"That 's the kind of a ship I 'd like if I was
a pirate like Lafitte," said Harry Zachary.
"How can you be a- pirate now, when
there are policemen everywhere ? asked Cissy,
"I 'd like to be a pirate some place where
there are n't any policemen," Harry explained.
"Down in Patagonia, or up in Greenland, or
"They 'd be sure to send a big frigate after
you," said Tom Paulding; "they always do."
"Then I 'd fight the frigate till the deck
ran with blood," persisted Harry, with a tone
of excitement in his gentle voice. I 'd nail
the black flag to the mast; and if they got the
better of us I 'd fire the powder-magazine and
blow up the whole boat- and that would
surprise them, I reckon."
It is n't the kind of surprise party I want,"
said Cissy emphatically, as the boys came to
a halt among the trees near the railroad track
by the edge of the river.
"How many pirates would there be on a
boat like that ? inquired Lott.
How many beans make five ? Cissy Smith
answered sarcastically. "There 's a Boston
problem for you."
Lott had been born in Boston, and he had
lived in New York less than a year.
"I wish I knew a place where a pirate had
buried his treasure," he remarked, paying no
attention to Smith's taunt.
Now, there 's another thing that 's great
fun," Harry interjected, "and that 's hunting
for buried treasure. I 've read all about that
in a story called The Gold Bug.' It 's pretty



interesting, I reckon, to dig under a tree with a
skeleton or a skull on one branch, and to find
thousands and thousands of guineas and doub-
loons and pieces-of-eight."
Pieces of eight what ? asked Cissy.
"Pieces-of-eight-why, that's just the name
they have for them. They 're some kind of a
coin, I reckon," replied Harry.
Pieces of eight cents, very likely," Cissy re-
turned. I don't believe it's worth while wear-
ing yourself out with hard labor just to dig up
a few pieces of eight cents. And who would
all these guineas and doubloons and pieces of
eight cents belong to when you found 'em ?"
"They'd belong to us, I reckon," answered
"And just suppose they did n't ? retorted
"Suppose the rightful owner turned up,"
suggested Tom Paulding; the man who had
buried the money during the war, or the son of
the man, or his grandson ? "
Harry Zachary was a little taken aback at
this. His manner, always gentle and shy,
now seemed milder than ever.
Well," he said at last, I reckon I 'd have
the luck to find the treasure that belonged to
,our family-that had been hid by my father,
maybe, or my grandfather."
"Shucks!" cried Cissy, forcibly. "Being a
pirate where there 's no police and finding
buried treasure that belongs to you- I don't
think that's so very exciting, do you?"
Harry Zachary felt that this was a home
thrust, and he had no retort ready. Tom Paul-
*ding came to his rescue and gave a practical
turn to the talk.
There 's a buried treasure belonging to us,
.somewhere," he said, conscious of the envy this
remark would excite.
Where is it ? asked Corkscrew, promptly.
If he knew where it was, don't you sup-
pose he 'd hustle round and get it? Cissy
It is n't really buried treasure," explained
Tom, "at least, we don't know whether it 's
buried or not, or what has become of it. You
see, it 's just a lot of money that was stolen
from my great-grandfather during the Revolu-
tionary War."

I guess the great-grandchildren of the man
that stole it have a better chance of getting it
than you have," said Cissy.
He did n't leave any family-he did n't
leave any trace of himself, even," Tom replied.
" He just disappeared, taking the money with
him. He 's never been seen or heard of since,
so my mother told me."
"And I guess the money will never be seen
or heard of, either," Cissy remarked.
How much was it? Corkscrew inquired.
Oh, a lot! Tom answered; "several thou-
sand pounds--as much gold as a man could
carry. He took all he could lift comfortably."
"What would you do with it, if you had it ?"
asked Corkscrew.
I 'd pay off the mortgage on our house,"
said Tom, promptly. "And I 'd get lots of
things for Pauline-my sister, you know; and
instead of going into a store as I 've got to do
next winter, I 'd study to be a mining engineer."
"I 'd rather be a soldier," Harry Zachary
declared. What would you like to be,
Cissy ? "
It does n't make any matter what I 'd like
to be," replied Cissy; "I know what I am going
to be-and that 's a doctor. Pa says that
he '11 need an assistant by the time I 'm through
the medical school, and he allows he can ring
me in on his patients."
"I have n't made up my mind what I 'd
like to be," said Lott. "At first I thought
I 'd choose to be an expressman, because then
I 'd get inside all sorts of houses, and see how
the people lived, and learn all sorts of things.
But I 've been thinking it might be more fun
to be a detective, because then I could find out
anything I wanted to know."
".I guess it would take the Astor Library to
hold all you want to know, Corkscrew," said
Cissy pleasantly, as the boys began to retrace
their steps up the hill; but all you 're likely
to find out could be put in a copybook "
Lott fell back a little and walked by the side
of Harry Zachary.
I wonder what makes Cissy Smith so per-
nickety," he said. He 's always poking fun
at me."
"I would n't mind him now," responded
Harry, consolingly, and when you are a detec-


tive you can find out something about him and I can't bear that Corkscrew," Cissy con-
arrest him." fessed to Tom in a whisper.
This comforting suggestion helped to keep "Well," Tom answered, also in a whisper,
up Lott's spirits, although Smith made more I don't know that I really like him, myself.
than one other sarcastic remark as the four But he 's one of the Black Band now, and I
climbed the hillside together. suppose we must stand by him."
(To be continued.)

'' I I L ,VI i| ,'

.: I- '. -' "'
CS"..' ': 1_--,


S ; *. .. -

.,- ". "
-:... .. 1 !
.1K~t ( 4 A \ i






" WHIRR !" says the little wheel. Whirr! Whirr !"
While out of the window a twitter and stir,
And the bells of the garden are all a-chime
With the clock in the corner that ticks the time
Solemn o'er Lisbeth's white-capped head,
And kerchief demure, and petticoat red;


Il I; ,
i I '



' 1



"Whirr!" says the little wheel, "let me be!"
But Lisbeth laughs, and blithe sings she:
Soft and bright,
Smooth and white,
Keeps the thread in beginning,
And I '11 have no spot,
Or tangled knot,
At the close of this day's spinning."

" Burr! says the little wheel. Bur-r-r-"
While the buds in the window beckon to her,
And the sunlight mocks at the clock's stern face,
And the big blue tiles in the chimney-place,
And dances in glee on the white floor bare,
And Lisbeth's braids of yellow hair-
Burr! says the little wheel, "don't you see ?"
But Lisbeth laughs, and blithe sings she:
"Turn and spin,
Out and in,
No end without a beginning;
I must have no spot,
Or tangled knot,
At the close of this day's spinning!"

(Tee- Wahn Folk-Stories.)


OW there is a tail on
you, compare (friend),"
said old Desiderio,
nodding at Patricio
after we had sat a-
while in silence around
the crackling fire. His
remark referred to the
Pueblo superstition that
a donkey-tail will grow
upon him who obsti-
nately refuses to tell a
Story in his turn.
6 Patricio was holding
L a strip of rawhide across
his knee, and was scraping the
hair from it with a dull knife.
It was high time to be thinking of new soles,
for already there was a wee hole in the bottom of
each of his moccasins; and as for Benito, his
.shy little grandson, his toes were all abroad.
But shrilly as the cold night-wind outside
hinted the wisdom of speedy cobbling, Patricio
had no wish to acquire that donkey's tail, so,
laying the rawhide and knife upon the floor be-
:side him, he deliberately rolled a modest pinch
-of an aromatic weed in a corn-husk, lighted

this cigarette at the coals, and drew Benito's
tousled head to his side.
"You have heard," he said, with a slow puff,
"about Nah-chu-ru-chu, the mighty medicine-
man who lived here in Isleta in the times of
the ancients ? "
Ahu / (yes!) cried all the boys. "You
have promised to tell us how he married the
Moon! "
"Another time I will do so. But now I
shall tell you something that was before that -
for Nah-chu-ru-chu had many strange adven-
tures before he married P'ah-hlee-oh, the Moon
Mother. Do you know why the rattlesnake-
which is the king of all snakes and alone has
the power of death in his mouth-always
shakes his guaje [the Pueblo sacred rattle] be-
fore he bites ? "
Een-dah (No 1)" chorused Ramon, and
Benito, and Juan, and Tomas, very eagerly; for
they were particularly fond of hearing about
the exploits of the greatest of Tee-wahn medi-
"Listen, then, and you shall hear."

In those days Nah-chu-ru-chu had a friend
who lived in a pueblo nearer the foot of the


Eagle Feather Mountain than this, in the Place
of the Red Earth, where still are its ruins; and
the two young men went often to the mountain
together to bring wood and to hunt. Now,
Nah-chu-ru-chu had a white heart, and never
thought ill; but the friend had the evil road
and became jealous, for Nah-
chu-ru-chu was a better hunter.
But he said nothing, and did as
if he still loved Nah-chu-ru-chu
One day the friend came
,over from his village and said:
"Friend Nah-chu-ru-chu, let
us go to-morrow for wood, and
to have a hunt."
It is well," replied Nah-
*chu-ru-chu. Next morning he
started very early and came to
the village of his friend; and
together they went to the moun-
tain. When they had gathered
much wood, and lashed it in
bundles for carrying, they started .
off in opposite directions to -.
hunt. In a short time each re-
turned with a fine fat deer.
"But why should we hasten
to go home, friend Nah-chu-
ru-chu ? said the friend. It
is still early, and we have much
time. Come, let us stay here
and amuse ourselves with a
It is well, friend," answered
Nah-chu-ru-chu, "but what
game shall we play? For we
have neither sticks, nor hoops,
nor any other game here."
Yes; we will roll the ma/-
k/hur, for while I was waiting I
for you I made one that we might
play"--and the false friend
drew from beneath his blanket
a pretty, painted hoop. Really
he had bewitched it at home,
.and had brought it hidden, "AS HE CAUGHT THE
on purpose to do harm to Nah-chu-ru-chu.
Now go down there and catch it when I
roll it," said he; and Nah-chu-ru-chu did so.

But as he caught the magic hoop when it came
rolling, he was no longer Nah-chu-ru-chu the
brave hunter, but was instantly changed into a
poor coyote with great tears rolling down his
Hu! said the false friend, tauntingly, "we


do this to each other! So now you have all
the plains to wander over, to the north, and
west, and south; but you can never go to the


east. And if you are not lucky, the dogs will
tear you; but if you are lucky, they may have
pity on you. So now good-by, for this is the
last I shall ever see of you."
Then the false friend went away, laughing,
to his village; and the poor coyote wandered
aimlessly, weeping to think that he had been
betrayed by the one he had loved and trusted
as a brother. For four days he prowled about
the outskirts of Isleta, looking wistfully at his
home. The fierce dogs ran out to tear him;
but when they came near, they only sniffed at
him, and went away without hurting him. He
could find nothing to eat save dry bones, and
old soles or thongs of moccasins.
On the fourth day, he turned westward, and
wandered until he came to Mesita. There
was no town of the Lagunas there then, and
only a shepherd's hut and corral, in which
were an old Queres Indian and his grandson,
tending their goats.
Next morning when the grandson went out
very early to let the goats from the corral, he
saw a coyote run out from among the goats.
It went off a little way, and then sat down and
watched him. The boy counted the goats,
and none were missing, and he thought it
strange. But he said nothing to his grand-
For three more mornings, the very same
thing happened; and on the fourth morning
the boy told his grandfather. The old man
came out, and sent the dogs after the coyote,
which was sitting at a little distance; but when
they came near they would not touch him.
"I suspect there is something wrong here,"
said the old shepherd; and he called: Coyote,
are you coyote-true, or are you people ? "
But the coyote could not answer; and the old
man called again: "Coyote, are you people ?"
At that the coyote nodded his head, "Yes."
"If that is so, come here and be not afraid
of us; for we will be the ones to help you out
of this trouble."
So the coyote came to them and licked their
hands, and they gave it food -for it was dying
of hunger. When it was fed, the old man said:
Now, son, you are going out with the goats
along the creek, and there you will see some
willows. With your mind look at two willows,

and note them; and to-morrow morning you
must go and bring one of them."
The boy went away tending the goats, and
the coyote stayed with the old man. Next
morning, when they awoke very early, they
saw all the earth wrapped in a white manta, or
cloak. [This figure of speech is always used
by the Pueblos in speaking of snow in connec-
tion with sacred things.]
"Now, son," said the old man, "you must
wear only your moccasins and leggings and go
like a man to the two willows you marked
yesterday. To one of them you must pray;
and then cut the other, and bring it to me."
The boy did so, and came back with the wil-
low stick. The old man prayed, and made a
niah-khur hoop; and bidding the coyote stand
a little way off and stick his head through the
hoop before it should stop rolling, rolled it to-
ward him. The coyote waited till the hoop
came very close, and gave a great jump and
put his head through it before it could stop.
And lo! in an instant, there stood Nah-chu-
ru-chu, young and handsome as ever; but his
beautiful suit of fringed buckskin was all in rags.
For four days he stayed there and was cleansed
with the cleansing of the medicine-man; and
then the old shepherd said to him:
Now, friend Nah-chu-ru-chu, there is a
road. [That is, you can go home.] But take
with you this faja [a fine woven belt, with fig-
ures in bright colors], for though your power
is great, you have submitted to this evil. When
you get home, he who did this to you will be
first to know, and he will come pretending to
be your friend as if he had done nothing; and
he will ask you to go hunting again. So you
must go; and when you come to the mountain,
with thisfaja you shall repay him."
Nah-chu-ru-chu thanked the kind old shep-
herd, and started home. But when he came
to the Bad Hill and looked down into the val-
ley of the Rio Grande, his heart sank. All the
grass and fields and trees were dry and dead-
for Nah-chu-ru-chu was the medicine-man who
controlled the clouds, so no rain could fall
when he was gone; and the eight days he had
been a coyote were in truth eight years. The
river was dry, and the springs; and many of
the people were dead from thirst, and the rest



were dying. But as Nah-chu-ru-chu came
down the hill, it began to rain again, and all
the people were glad.
When he came into the pueblo, all the fam-
ishing people came out to welcome him. And
soon came the false friend, making as if he had
never bewitched him nor had known whither
he disappeared.

In a few days the false friend came again to
propose a hunt; and next morning they went
to the mountain together. Nah-chu-ru-chu
had the pretty faja wound around his waist;
and when the wind blew his blanket aside, the
other saw it.
"Ah! What a pretty faja!" cried the
false friend. "Give it to me, friend Nah-
"Een-dah (No!)" said Nah-chu-ru-chu.
But the false friend begged so hard that at last
he said:

Then I will roll it to you; and if you can
catch it before it unwinds, you may have it."
So he wound it up [like a roll of tape], and
holding by one end gave it a push so that it
ran away from him, unrolling as it went. The
false friend jumped for it, but it was unrolled
before he caught it.
Een-dal / said Nah-chu-ru-chu, pulling it

back. "If you do not care enough for it to be
spryer than that, you cannot have it."
The false friend begged for another trial; so
Nah-chu-ru-chu rolled it again. This time the
false friend caught it before it was unrolled;
and lo as he seized it he was changed from a
tall young man into a great rattlesnake, with
tears rolling from his lidless eyes!
"We, too, do this to each other! said Nah-
chu-ru-chu. He took from his medicine-pouch
a pinch of the sacred meal and laid it on the
snake's flat head for its food, and then a pinch


of the corn-pollen to tame it. And the snake
ran out its red, forked tongue, and licked them.
Now," said Nah-chu-ru-chu, "this moun-
tain and all rocky places shall be your home.
But you can never again do harm to another
without warning, as you did to me. For see,
there is a guaje in your tail, and whenever you
would do any one an injury, you must warn
them beforehand with your rattle."

"And is that the reason why Ch'ah-rah-rah-
deh always rattles to give warning before he
bites ? asked Juan, who is now quite as often
called Juan Biscocho (John Biscuit), since I
photographed him one day crawling out of
the big adobe bake-oven where he had been
"That is the very reason. Then Nah-chu-
ru-chu left his false friend, from whom all the
rattlesnakes are descended, and came back to
his village. From that time all went well with
Isleta, for Nah-chu-ru-chu was at home again
to attend to the clouds. There was plenty of
rain, and the river began to run again, and the
springs flowed. The people plowed and planted
again, as they had not been able to do for sev-
eral years, and all their work prospered. As
for the people who lived in the Place of the
Red Earth, they all moved down here, because
the Apaches were very bad; and here their de-
scendants live to this day."
Is that so ? sighed all the boys, in chorus,
sorry that the story was so soon done.
"That is so," replied old Patricio. "And
now, compare Antonio, there is a tail on you."
"Well, then, I will tell a story which they
told me in Taos* last year," said the old man.
"Ah-h! said the boys.
"It is about

WELL, once upon a time a Coyote and his
family lived near the edge of a wood. There
was a big hollow tree there, and in it lived an
old Woodpecker and his wife and children.
One day as the Coyote father was strolling
along the edge of the forest he met the Wood-
pecker father.
Hin-no-kah-kee-ma (good morning)," said

the Coyote; "how do you do to-day, friend
Hloo-ree-deh (Woodpecker) ?"
"Very well, thank you, and how are you,
friend Too-whay-deh (Coyote) ?"
So they stopped and talked together awhile;
and when they were about to separate the Coy-
ote said:
Friend Woodpecker, why do you not come
as friends to see us? Come to our house to
supper this evening, and bring your family."
Thank you, friend Coyote," said the Wood-
pecker, we will come with joy."
So that evening, when the Coyote mother had
made supper ready, here came the Wood-
pecker father and the Woodpecker mother with
their three children. When they had come in,
all five of the Woodpeckers stretched them-
selves as they do after flying, and by that
showed their pretty feathers-for the Hloo-ree-
deh has yellow and red marks under its wings.
While they were eating supper too, they some-
times spread their wings, and displayed their
bright under-side. They praised the supper
highly, and said the Coyote mother was a per-
fect housekeeper. When it was time to go,
they thanked the Coyotes very kindly and in-
vited them to come to supper at their house
the following evening. But after they were
gone, the Coyote father could restrain himself
no longer, and he said:
Did you see what airs those Woodpeckers
put on? Always showing off their bright
feathers? But I want them to know that the
Coyotes are equal to them. I'IZ show them! "
Next day, the Coyote father set all his fam-
ily at work bringing wood, and built a great
fire in front of his house. When it was time to
go to the house of the Woodpeckers he called
his wife and children to the fire, and lashed a
burning stick under each of their arms, with the
burning end pointing forward; and then he
fixed himself in the same way.
"Now," said he, "we will show them!
When we get there, you must lift up your arms
now and then, to show them that we are as
good as the Woodpeckers."
When they came to the house of the Wood-
peckers and went in, all the Coyotes kept lift-
ing their arms often, to show the bright coals

* The most northern of the Pueblo cities. Its people also are Tee-wahn.



underneath. But as they sat down to supper,
one Coyote girl gave a shriek and said:
Ow, Tatal My fire is burning me !"
"Be patient, my daughter,"' said the Coyote
father, severely, "and do not cry about little
Oh!" cried another Coyote girl in a mo-
ment, "my fire has gone out!"

But the Coyotes were very uncomfortable,
and made an excuse to hurry home as soon as
they could. When they got there, the Coyote
father whipped them all for exposing him to.
be laughed at.
But the Woodpecker father gathered his chil-
dren around him, and said:
"Now, my children, you see what the Coy-

This was more than the Coyote father could otes have done.
stand, and he reproved her angrily, appear what you
"But how is it, friend Coyote," said the really are, and pu
Woodpecker politely, "that your colors are so
bright at first, but very soon become black ? Is that so ? c
Oh, that is the beauty of our colors," re- ary at the end of a
plied the Coyote, smothering his rage, "that "That is so; anc
they are not always the same-like other peo- beasts and birds.
ple's-but turn all shades." have talked long e

are not.
t on no

in your life try to
Be just what you
false colors."

ried the boys, as is custom-
- story.
it is as true for people as for
Now, too kwai [come]-we
enough; it is bedtime."




"I SHOULD think it was about time for him
to be coming, said Mrs. Rose.
So should I," assented Miss Elvira Grayson.
She peered around the corner of the front door.
Her face was thin and anxious, and her voice
was so like it that it was unmistakably her own
note. One would as soon expect a crow to
chick-a-dee as Miss Elvira to talk in any other
way. She was tall, and there was a sort of
dainty angularity about her narrow shoulders.
She wore an old black silk, which was a great
deal of dress for afternoon. She had consider-
able money in the bank and could afford to
dress well. She wore also some white lace
around her long neck, and it was fastened with

a handsome gold and jet brooch. She was
knitting some blue worsted, and she sat back
in the front entry, out of the draft. She con-
sidered herself rather delicate.
Mrs. Rose sat boldly out in the yard in the
full range of the breeze, sewing upon a blue-and-
white gingham waist for her son Willy. She was
a large, pretty-faced woman in a stiffly starched
purple muslin, which spread widely around her.
He 's been gone 'most an hour," she went
on; "I hope there 's nothing' happened."
I wonder if there 's snakes in that meadow ?"
ruminated Miss Elvira.
I don't know; I 'm getting' ruther uneasy."
I know one thing-I should n't let him go

'-,, V F .
'*^ ;


off so, without somebody older with him, if he
was my boy."
Well, I don't know what I can do," returned
Mrs. Rose uneasily. "There ain't anybody to
go with him. I can't go diggin' sassafras-root,
and you can't, and his uncle Hiram's too busy,
and grandfather is too stiff. And he is so crazy
to go after sassafras-root, it does seem a pity to
tell him he sha'n't. I never saw a child so pos-
sessed after the root and sassafras-tea, as he is,
in my life. I s'pose it 's good for him. I hate
to deny him when he takes so much comfort
goin'. There he is now!"
Little Willy Rose crossed the road, and toiled
up the stone steps. The front yard was ter-
raced, and two flights of stone steps led up to
the front door. He was quite breathless when
he stood on the top step; his round, sweet face
was pink, his fair hair plastered in flat locks to
his wet forehead. His little trousers and his
shoes were muddy, and he carried a great
scraggy mass of sassafras-roots. I see you
a-settin' out here," he panted softly.
You ought not to have stayed so long. We
began to be worried about you," said his mother
in a fond voice. Now go and take your muddy
shoes right off, and put on your slippers; then
you can sit down at the back door and clean
your sassafras, if you want to."
I got lots," said Willy, smiling sweetly and
wiping his forehead. "Look-a-there, Miss El-
So you did," returned Miss Elvira. I sup-
pose now you think you '11 have some sassafras-
Yes, ma'am."
"I guess I '11 steep him a little for supper,
he 's so crazy for it," said Mrs. Rose when Willy
had disappeared smilingly around the corner.
"Yes, I would. It's real wholesome for him.
Who's that coming' ?"
Mrs. Rose stared down at the road. A white
horse with an open buggy was just turning into
the driveway, around the south side of the ter-
races. "Why, it 's brother Hiram," said she,
and he 's got a boy with him. I wonder who
't is."
The buggy drew up with a grating noise
in the driveway. Presently a man appeared
around the corner. After him tagged a small
VOL. XIX.- 3.

white-headed boy, and after the boy Willy Rose,
with a sassafras-root and an old shoe-knife in
his hands.
The man, who was Mr. Hiram Fairbanks,
Mrs. Rose's brother, had a somewhat doubtful
expression. When he stopped, the white-headed
boy stopped, keeping a little behind him in his
"What boy is that, Hiram? asked Mrs.
Rose. Miss Elvira peered around the door.
Mr. Fairbanks was tall and stiff-looking. He
had a sunburned, sober face. His name is
Dickey," he replied.
One of those Dickeys ?" Mrs. Rose said
"Dickeys" as if it were a synonym for "outcasts"
or rascals."
Mr. Fairbanks nodded. He glanced at the
boy in his wake, then at Willy. Willy, s'pose

you take this little boy 'round and show him
your rabbits," he said in an embarrassed voice.
Willy Rose!" cried his mother, "you have n't


changed those muddy shoes! Go right in this
minute, 'round by the kitchen door, and take
this boy 'round with you; he can sit down on
the door-step and help you clean your sassafras-
Willy disappeared lingeringly around the
house, and the other boy, on being further bid-
den by Mr. Fairbanks, followed him. "Willy,"
his mother cried after him, "mind you sit down
on the door-step and tie your shoes! I ain't
goin' to have that Dickey boy left alone; his
folks are nothing' but a pack of thieves," she re-
marked in a lower tone. "What are you doing
with him, Hiram? "
Hiram hesitated. "Well, 'Mandy, you was
sayin' the other day that you wished you had a
boy to run errands, and split up kindlin's, and
be kind of company for Willy."
"You ain't brought that Dickey boy ?"
Now, look here, 'Mandy-"
"I ain't going to have him in the house."
"Jest look here a minute, 'Mandy, till I tell
you how it happened, and then you can do jest
as you 're a mind to about it. I was up by
the Ruggles's this afternoon, and Mis' Rug-
gles, she come out to the gate, and hailed me.
She wanted to know if I did n't want a boy.
Seems the Dickey woman died last week; you
know the father died two year ago. Well,
there was six children, and the oldest boy 's
skipped, nobody knows where, and the oldest
girl has just got married, and this boy is the
oldest of the four that 's left. They took the
three little ones to the poorhouse, and Mis'
Ruggles she took this boy in, and she wanted
to keep him, but her own boy is big enough
to do all the chores, and she did n't feel as if
she could afford to. She says he 's a real nice
little fellow, and his mother wa' n't a bad
woman; she was jest kind of sickly and shift-
less. I guess old Dickey wa' n't much, but
he 's dead. Mis' Ruggles says this little chap
hates awful to go to the poorhouse, and it
ain't no kind of risk to take him, and she 'd
ought to know. She 's lived right there next
door to the Dickeys ever since she was married.
I knew you wanted a boy to do chores round,
long as Willy was n't strong enough, so I
thought I 'd fetch him along. But you can
do jest as you 're a mind to."

"Now, Hiram Fairbanks, you know the
name those Dickeys have always had. S'pose
I took that boy, and he stole ? "
Mis' Ruggles says she 'd trust him with
"She ain't got so much as I have to lose.
There I 've got two dozen solid silver tea-
spoons, and four table-spoons, and my mother's
silver creamer, and Willy's silver napkin-ring.
Elviry 's got her gold watch, too."
I 've got other things I would n't lose for
anything," chimed in Miss Elvira.
"Well, of course, I don't want you to lose
anything," said Mr. Fairbanks helplessly, "but
Mis' Ruggles, she said he was perfectly safe."
"I s'pose I could lock up the silver spoons
and use the old pewter ones, and Elviry could
keep her watch out of sight for a while," ru-
minated Mrs. Rose.
"Yes, I could," assented Miss Elvira, "and
my breast-pin."
"I s'pose he could draw the water, and split
up the kindlin'-wood, and weed the flower-
garden," said Mrs. Rose. "I set Willy to
weedin' this morning, and it gave him the
headache. I tell you one thing, Hiram Fair-
banks, if I do take this boy, you 've got to
stand ready to take him back again the first
minute I see anything out of the way with
"Yes, I will, 'Mandy; I promise you I will,"
said Mr. Fairbanks eagerly. He hurried out
to the buggy, and fumbled under the seat; then
he returned with a bundle and a small wooden
Here 's his clothes. I guess he ain't got
much," said he.
Mrs. Rose took the newspaper bundle; then
she eyed the box suspiciously. It was a
wooden salt-box, and the sliding cover was
nailed on.
"What 's in this ? said she.
"Oh, I don't know," replied Mr. Fairbanks;
"some truck or other-I guess it ain't worth
He put the box down on the bank, and
trudged heavily and quickly out to the buggy.
He was anxious to be off; he shook the reins,
shouted "ge lang" to the white horse, and
wheeled swiftly around the corner.


I 'd like to know what 's in that box," said
Mrs. Rose to Miss Elvira.
I hope he ain't got an old pistol or any-
thing of that kind in it," returned Miss Elvira.
" Oh, 'Mandy, I would n't shake it, if I were
you! For Mrs. Rose was shaking the wooden
box, and listening with her ear at it.
"Something rattles in it," said she, desisting;
"I hope it ain't a pistol." Then she entered
with the newspaper-bundle and the box, and
went through the-house with Miss Elvira fol-
lowing. She set the bundle and box on the
kitchen table, and looked out of the door.
There on the top step sat the Dickey boy
cleaning the sassafras-roots with great industry,
while Willy Rose sat on the lower one chew-
ing some.
"I do believe he 's goin' to take right hold,
Elviry," whispered Mrs. Rose.
Well, maybe he is," returned Miss Elvira.
Mrs. Rose stowed away the boy's belongings
in the little bedroom off the kitchen where she
meant him to sleep; then she kindled the fire
and got supper. She made sassafras-tea, and
the new boy, sitting beside Willy, had a cup
poured for him. But he did not drink much,
nor eat much, although there were hot biscuits,
and berries, and custards. He hung his forlorn
head with its shock of white hair, and only
gave fleeting glances at anything with his wild
blue eyes. He was a thin boy, smaller than
Willy, but he looked wiry and full of motion,
like a wild rabbit.
After supper Mrs. Rose sent him for a pail
of water; then he split up a little pile of kind-
ling-wood. After that he sat down on the
kitchen door-step in the soft twilight, and was
Willy went into the sitting-room, where his
mother and Miss Elvira were. He 's setting'
out there on the door-step, not speaking' a
word," said he, in a confidential whisper.
"Well, you had better sit down here with us,
and read your Sunday-school book," said his
mother. She and Miss Elvira had agreed that
it was wiser that Willy should not be too much
with the Dickey boy until they knew him
When it was nine o'clock Mrs. Rose showed
the Dickey boy his bedroom. She looked at

him sharply; his small pale face showed red
stains in the lamplight. She thought to her-
self that he had been crying, and she spoke to
him as kindly as she could-she had not a ca-
ressing manner with anybody but Willy. I
guess there 's clothes enough on the bed," said
she. She looked curiously at the bundle and
the wooden box. Then she unfastened the
bundle. "I guess I '11 see what you 've got
for clothes," said she, and her tone was as
motherly as she could make it toward this out-
cast Dickey boy. She laid out his pitiful little
wardrobe, and examined the small ragged shirt
or two and the fragmentary stockings. "I
guess I shall have to buy you some things if
you are a good boy," said she. What have you
got in that box? "-the boy hung his head-
" I hope you ain't got a pistol ? "
"No, marm."
"You ain't got any powder, nor anything of
that kind ? "
No, marm." The boy was blushing con-
"I hope you 're tellin' me the truth," Mrs.
Rose said, and her tone was full of severe ad-
"Yes, marm." The tears rolled down the
boy's cheeks, and Mrs. Rose said no more.
She told him she would call him in the morn-
ing, and to be careful about his lamp. Then
she left him. The Dickey boy lay awake, and
cried an hour; then he went to sleep, and slept
as soundly as Willy Rose in his snug little bed-
room, leading out of his mother's room. Miss
Elvira and Mrs. Rose locked their doors that
night, through distrust of that little boy down-
stairs who came of a thieving family. Miss
Elvira put her gold watch, and her breast-pin,
and her pocket-book with seventeen dollars in
it, under the feather-bed; and Mrs. Rose car-
ried the silver teaspoons up-stairs, and hid
them under hers. The Dickey boy was not
supposed to know they were in the house,-the
pewter ones had been used for supper,--but that
did not signify; she thought it best to be on the
safe side. She kept the silver spoons under the
feather-bed for many a day, and they all ate
with the pewter ones, but finally suspicion was
allayed if not destroyed. The Dickey boy had
shown himself trustworthy in several instances.


Once he was sent on a test errand to the store,
and came home promptly with the right
change. The silver spoons glittered in the
spoon-holder on the table, and Miss Elvira
wore her gold watch and her gold breast-pin.
I begin to take a good deal more stock in
that boy," Mrs. Rose told her brother Hiram.
" He ain't very lively, but he works real smart;
he ain't saucy, and I ain't known of his layin'
hands on a thing."
But the Dickey boy, although he had won
some confidence and good opinions, was, as
Mrs. Rose said, not very lively. His face, as
he did his little tasks, was as sober and serious
as an old man's. Everybody was kind to him,
but this poor little alien felt like a chimney-
sweep in a queen's palace. Mrs. Rose, to a
Dickey boy, was almost as impressive as a
queen. He watched with admiration and awe
this handsome, energetic woman moving about
the house in her wide skirts. He was over-
come with the magnificence of Miss Elvira's af-
ternoon silk, and gold watch; and dainty little
Willy Rose seemed to him like a small prince.
Either the Dickey boy, born in a republican
country, had the original instincts of the peas-
antry in him, and himself defined his place so
clearly that it made him unhappy, or his pa-
trons did it for him. Mrs. Rose and Miss El-
vira tried to treat him as well as they treated
Willy. They dressed him in Willy's old
clothes, they gave him just as much to eat;
when autumn came, he was sent to school as
warmly clad and as well provided with lunch-
eon; but they could never forget that he was a
Dickey boy. He seemed in truth to them like
an animal of another species, in spite of all they
could do, and they regarded his virtues in the
light of uncertain tricks. Mrs. Rose never
thought at any time of leaving him in the
house alone without hiding the spoons, and
Miss Elvira never left her gold watch un-
Nobody knew whether the Dickey boy was
aware of these lurking suspicions or not; he was
so subdued that it was impossible to tell how
much he observed. Nobody knew how home-
sick he was, but he went about every day full
of fierce hunger for his miserable old home.
Miserable as it had been, there had been in it a

certain element of shiftless ease and happiness.
The Dickey boy's sickly mother had never
chided him; she had not cared if he tracked
mud into the house. How anxiously he scraped
his feet before entering the Rose kitchen.
The Dickey boy's dissipated father had been
gentle and maudlin, but never violent. All the
Dickey children had done as they chose, and
they had agreed well. They were not a quarrel-
some family. Their principal faults were idle-
ness and a general laxity of morals which was
quite removed from active wickedness. "All
the Dickeys needed was to be bolstered up,"
one woman in the village said; and the Dickey
boy was being bolstered up in the Rose family.
They called him Dickey, using his last name
for his first, which was Willy. Mrs. Rose
straightened herself unconsciously when she
found that out. We can't have two Willies
in the family, anyhow," said she; "we '11
have to call you Dickey."
Once the Dickey boy's married sister came
to see him, and Mrs. Rose treated her with
such stiff politeness that the girl, who was fair
and pretty and gaudily dressed, told her hus-
band when she got home that she would never
go into that woman's house again. Occasion-
ally Mrs. Rose, who felt a duty in the matter,
took Dickey to visit his little brothers and sis-
ters at the almshouse. She even bought some
peppermint-candy for him to take them. He
really had many a little extra kindness shown
him; sometimes Miss Elvira gave him a penny,
and once Mr. Hiram Fairbanks gave him a
sweet-apple tree that was really quite a mag-
nificent gift. Mrs. Rose could hardly believe
it when Willy told her. "Well, I must say I
never thought Hiram would do such a thing as
that, close as he is," said she. I was terribly
taken aback when he gave that tree to Willy,
but this beats all. Why, odd years it might
bring in twenty dollars! "
Uncle Hiram gave it to him," Willy re-
peated. "I was a-showin' Dickey my apple-
tree, and Uncle Hiram he picked out another
one, and he give it to him."
Well, I would n't have believed it," said
Mrs. Rose.
Nobody else would have believed that Hiram
Fairbanks, careful old bachelor that he was,


would have been so touched by the Dickey
boy's innocent, wistful face staring up at the
boughs of Willy's apple-tree. It was fall, and
the apples had all been harvested. Dickey
would get no practical benefit from his tree
until next season, but there was no calculating
the comfort he took with it from the minute it


came into his possession. Every minute he
could get, at first, he hurried off to the orchard
and sat down under its boughs. He felt as
if he were literally under his own roof-tree. In
the winter, when it was heavy with snow, he
did not forsake it. There would be a circle of
little tracks around the trunk.
Mrs. Rose told her brother that the boy was
perfectly crazy about that apple-tree, and Hiram
grinned shamefacedly.
All winter Dickey went with Willy to the dis-
trict school, and split wood and brought water

between times. Sometimes of an evening he
sat soberly down with Willy and played check-
ers, but Willy always won. He don't try to
beat," Willy said. Sometimes they had pop-
corn, and Dickey always shook the popper.
Dickey said he was n't tired, if they asked him.
All winter the silver spoons appeared on the
table, and Dickey was
treated with a fair show
of confidence. It was
not until spring that the
sleeping suspicion of him
,- awoke. Then one day
..Mrs. Rose counted her
silver spoons, and found
only twenty-three tea-
spoons. She stood at
her kitchen table, and
counted them over and
over. Then she opened
the kitchen door. "El-
viry!" she called out,
"Elviry, come here a
minute! Look here,"
.she said in a hushed
r:- *' voice, when Miss El-
S- vira's inquiring face had
appeared at the door.
a : Miss Elvira approached
the table tremblingly.
," Count those spoons,"
said Mrs. Rose.
/. Miss Elvira's long slim
-" .fingers handled the jing-
/ ling spoons. "There
ain't but twenty-three,"
SLY SHOOK HIS HEAD she said finally, in a
scared voice.
"I expected it," said Mrs. Rose. "Do you
s'pose he took it? "
Who else took it, I 'd like to know ? "
It was a beautiful May morning; the apple-
trees were all in blossom. The Dickey boy
had stolen over to look at his. It was a
round hill of pink-and-white bloom. It was the
apple year. Willy came to the stone wall and
called him. Dickey," he cried, Mother
wants you"; and Dickey obeyed. Willy had
run on ahead. He found Mrs. Rose, Miss El-
vira, Willy, and the twenty-three teaspoons



awaiting him in the kitchen. He shook his
head to every question they asked him about
the missing spoon. He turned quite pale; once
in a while he whimpered; the tears streamed
down his cheeks, but he only shook his head in
that mute denial.
It won't make it any easier for you, hold-
ing out this way," said Mrs. Rose, harshly.
"Stop cryin' and go out and split up some
Dickey went out, his
little convulsed form ';
bent almost double. -
Willy, staring at him
with his great, wonder- .-
ingblue eyes, stood aside
to let him pass. Then:'
he also was sent on an
errand, while his mother -;
and Miss Elvira had a
long consultation in the -
It was a half hour be- '
fore Mrs. Rose went out
to the shed where she
had sent the Dickey boy .'-/
to split kindlings. There
lay a nice little pile of
kindlings, but the boy
had disappeared.
"Dickey, Dickey !" she
called. But he did not 1'
come. -
"I guess he 's gone,
spoon and all," she told
Miss Elvira when she
went in; but she did not
really think he had.
When one came to think
of it, he was really too
small and timid a boy to
run away with one silver "THIEE, AMONG T
spoon. It did not seem
reasonable. What they did think, as time went
on and he did not appear, was that he was
hiding to escape a whipping. They searched
everywhere. Miss Elvira stood in the shed by
the wood-pile, calling in her thin voice, Come
out, Dickey; we won't whip you if you did take
it," but there was not a stir.


Toward night they grew uneasy. Mr. Fair-
banks came, and they talked matters over.
"Maybe he did n't take the spoon," said
Mr. Fairbanks uncomfortably. Anyhow, he 's
too young a chap to be set adrift this way. I
wish you 'd let me talk to him, 'Mandy."
You," said Mrs. Rose. Then she started
up. I know one thing," said she; "I 'm
goin' to see what 's in that wooden box. I


don't believe but what that spoon 's in there.
There 's no known' how long it 's been
It was quite a while before Mrs. Rose re-
turned with the wooden box. She had to
search for it, and found it under the bed. The
Dickey boy also had hidden his treasures.


She got the hammer and Hiram pried off the
lid, which was quite securely nailed. I 'd
ought to have had it opened before," said she.
" He had n't no business to have a nailed-up
box round. Don't joggle it so, Hiram. There 's
no known' what 's in it. There may be a
Miss Elvira stood farther off. Mr. Fair-
banks took the lid entirely off. They all
peered into the box. There lay an old clay
pipe and a roll of faded calico. Mr. Fair-
banks took up the roll and shook it out. It 's
an apron," said he. It 's his father's pipe, and
his mother's apron- I swan "
Miss Elvira began to cry. I had n't any
idea of anything of that kind," said Mrs. Rose
huskily. "Willy Rose, what have you got
there ?"
For Willy, looking quite pale and guilty,
was coming in, holding a muddy silver tea-
spoon. "Where did you get that spoon? An-
swer me this minute," cried his mother.
"I took it out to dig in my garden with
the other day. I forgot--"
Oh, you naughty boy! cried his mother.
Then she too began to weep. Mr. Fairbanks
started up. "Something 's got to be done,"
said he. "The wind 's changed, and the May
storm is coming' on. That boy has got to be
found before night."
But all Mr. Fairbanks's efforts, and the neigh-
bors' who came to his assistance, could not- find
the Dickey boy before night or before the next
morning. The long cold May storm began, the
flowering apple-trees bent under it, and the
wind drove the rain against the windows. Mrs.
Rose and Miss Elvira kept the kitchen fire all

night, and hot water and blankets ready. But
the day had fairly dawned before they found
the Dickey boy, and then only by the merest
chance. Mr. Fairbanks, hurrying across his
orchard for a short cut, and passing Dickey's
tree, happened to glance up at it, with a sharp
pang of memory. He stopped short. There,
among the blossoming branches, clung the
Dickey boy, like a little drenched, storm-beaten
bird. He had flown to his one solitary pos-
session for a refuge. He was almost exhausted;
his little hands grasped a branch like steel
claws. Mr. Fairbanks took him down and
carried him home. He was up in his tree,"
he told his sister brokenly, when he entered the
kitchen. He's 'most gone."
But the Dickey boy revived after he had lain
awhile before a fire and been rolled in hot
blankets and swallowed some hot drink. He
looked with a wondering smile at Mrs. Rose
when she bent over him and kissed him just as
she kissed Willy. Miss Elvira loosened her gold
watch with its splendid long gold chain and
put it in his hand. "There, hold it awhile,"
said she, "and listen to it tick." Mr. Fairbanks
fumbled in his pocket-book and drew out a
great silver dollar. There," said he, you can
have that to spend when you get well."
Willy pulled his mother's skirt. Mother,"
he whispered.
What say ?"
Can't I pop some corn for him ?"
"By and by." Mrs. Rose smoothed the
Dickey boy's hair; then she bent down and
kissed him again. She had fairly made room
for him in her stanch, narrow New England



IN the first decade of this century, Major
Zebulon Pike gazed from afar at the grim slopes
of the mountain named in his honor, and
doubted if human foot would ever tread its sum-
mit; nor did he express this doubt lightly, as
might one who had not made the endeavor, but
as one who had put forth his best efforts and
had been baffled at every turn by frowning
steeps, chilling blasts, and fast-falling snow.
Having reached the height of a much lower
peak, now known as Cheyenne Mountain, he
decided that further efforts would be but to
incur an unnecessary risk for his small band
of men, and therefore retraced his steps to the
Forty years or more passed by, and the mighty
monarch yet reared aloft its proud head in seem-
ing defiance of human touch, when another ven-
turesome traveler contemplated the ascent of the
mountain, and an exploration of the magnificent
catons opening in every direction from his camp-
ing ground. He had pitched his tent in a nook
of surpassing beauty, wherein were situated nu-
merous health-giving springs, a place where the
Indians were accustomed to bring their sick
that the "Manitou," the Great Spirit, might
heal them by these life-renewing waters.
Then a band of hostile Indians appeared in
large numbers, and he who might have blazed a
trail to those lonely heights was forced to make
haste in his departure, and to "stand not on the
order of his going."
But the magic word gold" had set in mo-
tion many an emigrant wagon, and the lonely
plains were soon marked by an almost continu-
ous train, in one case, at least, bearing in visible
letters on canvas, and in all, bearing in equally
clear characters on the brows of the occupants,
" Pike's Peak or bust! Some perished by the
way; many reached the goal; but to each and
all the grand old peak, now shrouded in clouds,

now gleaming in the sunlight, stood a landmark
for miles on miles of toilsome journeying.
Not all of those who reached the goal were
rewarded by the sight of the yellow metal; but
wealth is not counted wholly by nuggets, and
many who failed in their search for gold found
that which money cannot buy. The Great
Spirit had not withdrawn his healing touch
from the waters, though his dusky children no
longer came to drink of them, and ere long the
fame of sparkling springs and invigorating air
was calling hundreds to the famous mountain
who otherwise might never have seen it.
Once at its base, there was an irresistible de-
sire to climb its slopes, and soon a few intrepid
spirits explored a rough and dangerous path
that led almost to the top. But the way was
very long and full of peril, so that only the hardi-
est could travel it.
After the completion of the transcontinental
railroad, tourists and settlers poured into the
country, transforming hamlets into cities, and
this former Indian camp into a famous watering-
place. Then a demand for amusement and ad-
venture on the part of those whose time hung
heavy on their hands in crowded hotel or cozy
cottage led to the construction of a well-defined
and not too hazardous path to the very summit
of the mountain. Even then the trip was no
child's play, and never was attempted without
due deliberation and careful forethought as to
the powers of endurance possessed by each
member of a party.
In time, the sure-footed burro became the all-
important factor in a Pike's Peak journey, but
that patient beast, with a size so comically dis-
proportioned to his endurance, was destined to
be ridiculed and berated by those whom he had
faithfully served. He was too slow or too stub-
born; the trip on his back was nearly as hard
as if taken afoot; the trail was steep, even to

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causing dizziness, and the more timid climbers
preferred walking to riding; and altogether
it was evident that the beast of the long ears
must soon be retired to his much beloved
Indomitable pluck has been and will ever be
an American characteristic. That which but a
few years before would have been considered
an impossibility became in 1889 an accom-
plished fact. There was a carriage road in
place of the narrow trail. To be sure, it zig-
zagged and it twisted, it swept round dangerous
curves and it crept up steep inclines, but it
brought the traveler to his goal, even though a
whole day, and .sometimes two and three days,
were occupied in the task.
Wonderful as it was, the era of the carriage-
road was destined to be the shortest in the his-
tory of this historic mountain.
A party of capitalists, having for some time
foreseen the value of a railroad at this partic-
.ular spot, had decided to build one.
Other mountains, not so high, had been

climbed on railroad trains; why might not this
one ? The very boldness of the scheme brought
adherents; soon a company was formed and
work commenced. Unexpected difficulties, an-
imate and inanimate, presented themselves on
every hand. The surveying and grading of
such a road were dangerous beyond conception,
and as one difficulty after another was met and
overcome only to be immediately succeeded by
others more perplexing, it is no wonder that the
promoters of the road sometimes wondered if it
would ever be completed.
In addition to all other trials, and more try-
ing than any, was the trouble of keeping men at
work at that altitude. Fresh causes for dissat-
isfaction seemed to arise each day, and strikes
were constantly impending. At length the pre-
liminary work was completed, after nearly a year
of diligent toil. The laying of the track and fin-
ishing strokes, while being matters of extreme
nicety and great care, were nevertheless accom-
plished with fewer delays and less annoyance,
so that the 2oth of October, 1890, saw the driv-


ing of the customary golden spike "; and soon
after the Pike's Peak Railroad was finished!
Winter had come again to the hoary moun-
tain, and all thought of carrying tourists to its
summit was postponed till the following summer.
Could Zebulon Pike have looked upon that
peak in the last decade of the nineteenth cen-
tury he might have seen on the 3oth day of
June, 1891, a trail of smoke that told of the ex-
ertions of a cog-wheel engine propelling, ant-
like, its car-load of passengers. Early that
morning an unusually eager party of pleasure-
seekers had boarded a luxurious train at Den-
ver, had been whirled over the populous plains,
across the steep divide," down again into the
fertile valley, and after one change of cars had
been deposited at an attractive little station in
the very shadow of Pike's Peak. There they
expected to be taken immediately by the moun-
tain railroad and landed at the old signal-station
on the very tip-top, in good time for a one-o'clock
luncheon! But a slight disappointment awaited
them, delaying them several hours at Manitou.
A boulder had fallen so as to block the track.
Then came an inspection of the road, engine,
and coaches. The system employed is that
known as the Abt; the road is of standard
gage, and differs from
ordinary roads in that
continuous rack-rails pass
midway between the outer
rails, and upon this middle -
rail runs a cogwheel at-
tached to the locomotive.
The rack-rails, two in i.
number, are set less than .''
two inches apart, and are '
made of the best steel,
cut from the solid piece '
by machines especially ..
constructed for the pur- __-
pose. They are firmly set
in the heaviest of timbers,
and are so arranged as to
break the jointings that
is, so that joining of
rails will not come directly opposite one another.
To make assurance doubly sure, and to pre-
vent any moving of the track, through variations
,of temperature or the great weight of the rails,

anchor-plates have been imbedded in the solid
rock, or sunk securely into the well ballasted
roadbed. A system of cogwheels placed un-
der the locomotive, and also under the coaches,
gears with the rack-rails and gives a "pur-
chase in climbing, and a security in descending.
The saucy little tip-tilted engine is con-
structed in such a manner that the engineer's
cab may stand level at the average grade. The
seats in the coaches are also made movable and
remain level, being self-adjusting to the slopes.
After having had time to fully examine every
detail about this novel railroad, the travelers
were glad to hear that the boulder had been
removed by a charge of giant-powder, and that
the track repairs would probably be completed
by the time the party should arrive there.
With eagerness increased by the delay, and
the fear that perhaps the trip could not be ac-
complished, the car, seating fifty people, was
filled in a twinkling; the little engine puffed and
snorted; the passengers gave a joyous hurrah,
and the first train to reach the top of Pike's
Peak had started.
From the beginning the way was so steep
that not a few wondered at their hardihood in
attempting the journey; but as the steepest

--- -- .- -.-

grade was overcome almost at the outset, and
as the wondrous landscape unfolded itself,
there was no room for other feelings than rev-
erential awe for the natural surroundings and

admiration of the enterprise that had constructed
that truly marvelous road.
Up we went, between frowning cliffs or
along dizzy slopes, past laughing cascades or
foaming torrents, till the Half-way House was
reached. There a stop was made, and the pas-
sengers saw a rustic home almost hidden by
trees and sheltered by towering mountains. This
was the house that was of so much importance
in the days of burro climbing, for here the real
hardship of the trip began, and here after the
long return journey was over, the weary excur-

-:= ~ ~ ~ ~ -2 V-;i' ---1
----- .4tji~
.iII mer"sr

Si- -- -- .. ._

sionists were glad to rest before returning to
As the train made its slow ascent, there were
at times such bewitching glimpses of the low-
lying valley as almost took the breath of be-
holders. By a curious refraction of the air, the
valley seemed on a level with the great height
we had attained; and, looking first at the rocky
canton, then at the smiling valley, it seemed for
an instant as if the heavens were opened and a
new earth was let down to our sight.
How can I describe the scenes we passed
through ? Old mountain-climbers were speech-
less before them; novices were filled with won-



der. Everywhere nature was grand beyond
description, and the glimpses of the plain were
given as if to say, Behold how fair a land thou
dwellest in! "
At the end of an hour the trees began to be
stunted, with most of their limbs growing on
the lower side; flowers and ferns became less
and less frequent; mosses and lichens on the
rocks were more and more noticeable.
At length we were above timber-line and
had come almost to the place where the track
had been wrecked. Here and there among the

fre-m e,-o s. e tn
3 .

so br=- l there -? t 'th. vry- ,t f t';

C c-.. a n

rocks could be seen dainty yellow blossoms and
forget-me-nots. They seemed to know that
they need not be very big in order to be re-
membered, for who having seen them growing
so bravely there at the very edge of the snow
could ever forget them ?
Colder and colder grew the air, and every
wrap was close-buttoned, every window closed.
Before the windows were shut, a few of us had
enjoyed the novelty of scraping snow from the
banks piled on each side of the track by the
laborers who had shoveled it out a few days
When we reached the broken track we found


I' I


-3-. -,

'4 '

r ". ."'
7' 4:

it was not repaired; but the conductor assured Who would not be patient with such grandeur
us that if we would but be patient we should spread out to the view? Far away the beauti-
reach the top "if it took all night! ful Sangre de Cristo range lifted its snowy peaks




in the sunlit air; green foothills in billowy ver-
dure rolled between; seven glittering lakes
revealed themselves to our delighted vision, and
the frowning peak above looked down at us
with awful grandeur.
An hour and a half was spent here, and to
the few who became restless the conductor ex-
plained that the break must be accurately re-
paired, or (impressively) the train would jump
the track!
The rarefied air prevented long effort by the
willing workmen, he said, but we should soon
be on our way.
All aboard! rang out, the engine gathered
itself for a mighty effort, and again we were
going upward. Slowly we crept over the
freshly made track, and gained the upper side
amid hearty rousing cheers from workers and
A steady climb, a curve, and -joy of joys !
we were at the summit. A cold wind greeted
us as we left the coach, and we gladly crowded
into the old signal-station, now used only as a
hostelry for those caring to remain over night
on the mountain.
Standing in that room heated by an enor-
mous stove, with outer doors closed and double-
sash windows shut tight on that 3oth day of
June, we could not but wonder how bitter cold
it would be were the month December instead
of June!
The house is of stone, and seems a part of the
mountain itself rather than a house built with
human hands.
The whole top of the peak is as if a deluge
of boulders, shattering as they fell, had poured
down upon the mountain's hoary head. Gran-
ite and snow are everywhere, and mother earth
under all, hidden from sight.
And the stillness of the spot!- no sound of
bird or insect or ceaseless toil of man; silence
primeval, oppressive, absolute, such as reigned
here before man was and will reign when he
is no more.
With almost a start we were recalled to every-
day affairs. The enterprising photographer was

ready to snap this historic party, and we were
urged to arrange ourselves artistically, and to
look pleasant becomingly.
The picture was taken, the train boarded,
and soon the visit to Pike's Peak was only a de-
lightful memory. Owing to the delays, Denver
was not reached until I1.15 that night, fifteen
hours after the departure in the morning, but
what pioneer would ever have believed the
ascent could be accomplished in a few hours ?
Is it any wonder that next morning as we
looked to the south and saw the mighty peak
towering above all others, we felt a new rever-
ence for it and an interest that amounted
almost to ownership ?



t4A ~ )* rr



WAS "regulation size"
To the sporting-
I ddealer's eyes;
He strongly recom-
mended me,and praised
me to the skies.
So some quiet-looking men
Chose me as best of ten.
They handled me most tenderly and said I was
a "prize "!
But on Thanksgiving Day
Their kindness passed away.
.They took me to some kind of game. Im-
agine my dismay
When I was taken out
'Mid a crowd ranged all about,
And a tyrant in an ulster invited us to Play! "
I did n't care to stay;
But was not asked to say.
They seemed to think I wished to be the center
of the fray.
They kicked me everywhere,
They struggled in despair,
They fell upon me, punted me, and drove me
far away.

They cried out Down! or Held! "
They dropped on me and yelled,
Till I feared my vital breath would be forcibly
They drop-kicked me "for goal,"
And over me would roll,
As if I were a hard-boiled egg, refusing to be
When they were through with me
I was a sight to see!
Begrimed and scratched on every side, they
bore me home in glee.
Hung up in silken fetters,
I was marked in gilded letters,
that may be.

It 's not that I complain;
But if you can explain
The reasons for maltreating me, 't would ease a
puzzled brain.
I come from over seas,
And will ask you, if you please,
The reason for subjecting me to such a fearful
strain !


B. E .A L. i'. :,-,.'..


BRAVELY comes the gentleman,
Trotting nimbly as he can;
Lifts his hat to Meg and Dot
As he passes-trot, trot, trot.

-- -- --- ----- -,i



Now the postboy follows fast,
Gallop, gallop- ah, he 's past,
Spares not spur, but shakes the rein, ; -
Gallops on with might and main. 'i f

Next there comes the country boy, '" i
Many a jump, and hobbledy-hoy. ''. /
Bumpety-bump !-if he fall down," '
Ten to one he cracks his crown! Ll,(*1 I

This is the way the ladies ride,i
Gently pacing, side by side,
Backward and forward, to and fro, '
See, my darling, how they go.

Pace, and gallop, and trot, my dear, -' 4"
So they've traveled for many a year;
But none of them all can happier be
Than Goldilocks on her father's knee
-^" ^ "_^^:.
/" ,. -y ^


VOL. XIX.-4.

Ac i




TRAVELERS who have crossed over into Asia
by way of Eastern Russia will have passed
through a broken, hilly tract of country, rising
finally into the steep, rocky range which
is marked on the maps as the Ural Moun-
tains. They are not very mountainous, to be
sure, the highest point being only about five
thousand feet; but if you try to cross them
in a heavy wagon you will find them quite
steep enough.
The first thing you see of them, as you
come from the west, is a succession of bare,
stony uplands, separated here and there by a
deep gully, through which a tiny stream, al-
most dried by the heat of summer, goes chafing
and foaming among the gravel. Then come
rolling waves of steep grassy hills, growing
higher and higher with every mile, and at last
appear the genuine Uralskiya Gori," with
their black, frowning rocks and headlong tor-
rents, deep, narrow valleys, clustering trees
perched upon overhanging cliffs, and great
masses of dark mountain rising up on both
sides as if to bury the road and all who may
venture upon it.
In some places the hills are so steep that you
have to get out and walk, while your horses
pick their way up and down as gingerly as a
man walking on a tight-rope; and, perhaps, in
another half-hour or so, you find yourself
splashing through a stream that flows directly
across the road. Altogether, it is hardly the
sort of country that many people would care
to live in; yet plenty of people do live in it,
and think themselves fortunate, too. Every
now and then, in traversing all these ups and
downs, you come suddenly upon a little patch
of level turf, on which some fifty or sixty log
huts cluster around a tall, green church-tower,
as chickens gather under the wings of the
mother-hen; and if you look among them, you
will soon notice one bigger than the rest, with

door-posts striped black and white like bar-
bers' poles. This is the post-house, where you
will have to change horses before going on.
There are people enough to be seen here,.
and a very picturesque set they are. Big, yel-
low-haired men, in high boots, wearing red cal-
ico shirts outside their other clothes; hulking
lads, hot and dusty from their work in the.
fields, laughing and playing tricks upon each
other like so many school-boys; sunburned wo-
men, with crimson scarfs wound turban-fashion
around their hard, wooden faces, and bare-
footed girls, carrying home their two pails of
water upon a curved yoke, which, instead of
crossing both shoulders, is balanced upon one,
so that one pail hangs in front and the other is.
behind her.
And as for the children -why, the whole
place seems peopled with them! You can
scarcely stir without running against some lit-
tle brown-faced, round-eyed figure, with no
cap but its own matted hair, and, indeed, lit-
tle clothing of any kind except a light shirt or
pinafore. In these warm, bright summer days,
the whole hillside is their playground, and a
jolly life they have of it. Sometimes they are
out all day in the woods, gathering firewood or
picking mushrooms, their dinner being eaten
upon the smooth turf, under the shade of some
spreading tree. Then, too, there are always
plenty of horses to be taken down to the wa-
ter, and it is fun for the boys to ride them bare-
backed down the steep slopes, and to go splash-
ing about in the stream, laughing and shouting
to each other till the lonely hillside is as lively
and noisy as any nursery. And to see the
horses themselves prance, and shake their manes,
and toss their heads about, and splash up the
water, you would think that they enjoyed the
sport quite as much as did the little riders.
Besides, there is no lack of games for the chil-


dren to play. They have quite as many as
otlh.r children. There is "Wolf and Lamb,"
l, !.h resembles your hide-and-seek; and there
,:, game something like nine-pins, but played
i. i. long pieces of bone. Then there is" Tczia-
.:.. i" (sentinel), which is played by setting one
L..,v to walk up and down a line traced on the
.r. .mnd, while the rest try to leap over it with-
oul being caught. Sometimes the sentinel is
L.indfolded, and then every one who crosses the
Iln.: has to warn him by first giving a shout.
IThen, too, as the highroad passes right
tlr..ugh these mountains, there are always
pln.-aty of wagons and post-cars going back-
.rd and forward, during the fine summer
S,-.:ther. It is not unusual for the little people
S-, !un after them and to beg a ride, and very
sl.:klom indeed do they meet with a refusal. I
r!mnember, a few years ago, as I was crossing
th,:- ;e very mountains to join the Russian sol-
diets who were setting out to march over the
Sr .it desert beyond, a little dot of a girl, whose
nm -:.her lived a mile or so out of the village
thi-..ugh which I was passing, came toddling
uip to the side of my wagon, and holding up
her little brown arms to me, cried out, Yekhal,
.. '. tat! (Ride, ride!)" So I took her up be-
si.le me, and gave her a ride as far as her mo-
. thl.r's door; and by the way she clapped her
* hinds and shouted on the way, I should say
: i- r enjoyed her ride very much.
SBut everything is very different when the ter-
n nL.le Russian frost sets in, and hill and valley
Sale become one great sheet of white. Very
L. t'.re and dreary do these green, sunny slopes
lh::k in the winter months, with a few leafless
r.-.s standing gauntly up through the drifts,
an.. the fierce, cold wind howling down the
::i-es, driving great showers of snow along
i. trl it. No more light clothing, no more bare
Sh.:-ids then. Every one, whether a child or
*r.-,wn-up, is muffled in a great thick sheepskin
ii, :k reaching down to the feet, with a big col-
I- r turning up all round the face, till you can
h .i dly see who it is.
But the little Russians are not afraid of the
c. -Id, and have amusements in winter as well as
in :.ummer. When the sun is bright, and there
is no snow falling, they can go out upon the


hills with their sleds-for they have sleds
there, of course, and these little mountain-peo-
ple are quite as fond of them, and as clever in
managing them, as any children in the world.
Famous sliding do they have down these great
slopes, and fine rosy faces do they win by it,
and wonderful appetites do they carry home
with them to their suppers of brown bread and
kasha (buckwheat porridge mixed with butter),
after the fun is over.
And in the stormy evenings, when the grim
northeast wind comes howling over the wild,
lonely mountains, bringing with it all the cold
of the frozen wastes of Siberia, when the great
flakes are falling so thick and fast that no one
can see an inch beyond the window, and far up
among the hills you can hear at times the crash
of a tree breaking down under the weight of
the snow,-then is the time for the little folks
to cuddle around the warm stove, and to roast
chestnuts in the embers, and for the older boys
to make baskets or twist ropes, and for the big-
ger girls to plait straw mats. And then their
old grandmother, sitting at her spinning, on a
stool in the warmest corner, with a red hand-
kerchief around her dark, wrinkled old face,
which looks just like an oak-carving, will tell
them some quaint old fairy tale or some story
out of Russian history-perhaps about Ivan
Veliki, who beat the Tatars, or Peter the
Great, who built St. Petersburg, or the brave
men who burned their great city of Moscow to
drive away Napoleon.
Sometimes the children take their turn, and
sing a funny little song about the white geese,"
as they call the snowflakes:

Daddy, daddy Winter,
Let your white geese fly;
Send the wind to drive them
All across the sky!
Bend the tossing pine-trees,
Make the hard earth split-
Snug around the fireside
We don't fear a bit!

And I don't suppose they do; for in spite
of their wild country and their rough cli-
mate, these little Russians are a very merry
race indeed.


ade the Pig, one &endcy Lettin g
plenty of Apples in lice thin slices -
plenty of uqgar, and vArious spiCes -
Ne litrel scallops the edge adornin;g
Oh,my! Oh, c my!
She L^ade tha-t wonderful Apple Pie c

Was Jelpirqng er iin-atd ouk
Of pitcher t and pasnray she as ;tily ram;
Trough Ihe rolling-pin, board and pan;
picisek up -he apples theat rumbled ahou, .
OhHmy! Oh, my!
one always needs elsp with an Apple piec
Duilt a @1iq fire the ovn was ho" -
Shc wA-cd the [a^inq; once in a while
Skhe peape at Ihe pie, and it madt her smaii;
To see on -the Iop a little @rown spot-
Oh..n1y Oh, my!
That waes oa )[autiful Apple, pi

.aid if was [)one and )rew ;' out'-
Our of the oven, most carefuiy ;
"A prettier pie you never wil see "
Foy 5o she declared with a joyfu6 shout,.'
O my! Oh. my!
A elicious, elite Apple pie!
Praised .it a&nd iheni on ihe Pantry shotf
She *Put it to cool, 5he said "'j's nice.
'is full of apples and suqgr and sp;ce 7
"I'd Ike, .a piece" she said to herself ,'
Oh, my Oh1, my!
A piece of lhat fpreciou5 Apple Pie e
f an to the Bqarden to ftel the others.
The boys were playing a game of ball
'bhey threw down their bats when they heard "if all
And Raced ito the house cryingq-'(me 9n brothers!'
Oh,mv Oh, m"y
-hey wanted to see ihat' Qemarhabie pie!
anMe first and he goaxeld and riead
Rut the qirls all answered him f- o, No, 1o!0
nYO atd have any, you'd better qo -
SThat Apple pie is our Joy and pride '"
Ohmy! Oh, my!
What! (gur such a gharningj Apple pie
-ntered next, and he [yed it all round,
out- [E was short and Ihe shelf. was high;
ie only got a mere peep at Ihe pie -
Andc So with nivy he wcowlae and frowned ,
Qh.my! Oh, my?

^7hinefd Ihat was 'orst- of all.,
"I Wza%- 'i"! Now CJas'dn ihat a shame.?
5.- (I do t like -to lell you his name)
Qrabbedl for the pie and (o0 a, bad fail -
as, my!. Oh, moy!
He was @(reecdy about" -that Apppl Pe I

aik t -"We'lt gtest i t;. Oh. nauqhry boys!
SJoinJed a~ once in the wicked plot -
9f a Took i1' down, if was ,til quite ho--
And -1ip-oiooec away, without any noise.
Oh my! Oh my!
ao they gtole that superior Apple Pie !
[ocked i up in his eloeset, naxt -
Bu- n 0 inquired of every one'.
ttHave you an ldea where. our pie has gone?
Annd all *he gir.s were lndliqnanr and vexed.
Oh my! Oh my!
Had Ihey [Losr Ithet jLveliest APplie Pi
undertook -o Unearth it at once .
S o Quickly said--" We'll join in ,Ie t 'uesl'
o 1took ThAe Reys and followed Ahe rest,
gut did'hn rnow where to find iA,the dunce,
Ok m(! Oh myy
HOw ihey borrowed and searched for 'har Apple pie
S varlooked iit bu ihen she was (.d,
And she wouldl'n ()wn how short was her sight-
IT n~lny [~ounld it and danced with delight,
As she flufunq Ihe door open the Pi "to behold-
Oh my 0Oh my!
Tha+ Iahmou, '%bulous APPle Piea

w Waked freon her Nap on heearinq *he aoise .
Into Ihe closet she jaugqhily ran,
And to [ibble bit of the crusL began -
ut' the qirls all scolded and so did ihe boys.
0, Oh my! Oh my!%
v he i&ibbled lhat peerless Apple Pile
Wotad to have it for dinner that day -
js answeredd for alL:-"To That we &gre *'
She Arranged Ithe table with joy and lee.
w We'i EAT our Pie- "hal's ho wisest way'
Oh imy? Oh my!
They were going So eaT that Astonishing pie C

brought ;n Kra plates for the Pie
5aid 5ha; Yj Kpect we'll ned -othem all&'
7Z. ZOeakously w.eci theni, and let one fadI.
$o Ihey called her a 2gony. and made her r.'y.
Oh my! Oh my!
Thea becan to cut it-, '11ar Kc'llet pie

r 17
Was 1ha youngest-just' two 'Tears old -
They bro-9ht his hi.h char and fji'efned hkman
Tizc a napkin .nder his china
cGave hi a b6;1 of cri.st lo hold -
Qh my! Oh my l
They Wefi not a. crumb of Ihat Apple Pie!

; eC

S ~i) ""S ~ &


t 1 7


/ ~ 3,55


You see, Uncle Jack started it by calling
Launce and me Knights of the Round Table.
We were just getting over a severe fever and
had come to the part where it 's so stupid--
you feel too well to stay in bed and you don't
feel well enough to go down-stairs. The only
thing we could get any fun out of was eating,
and we spent so much time sitting at the little
light stand in Launce's room, that Uncle Jack
began to call us "The Knights of the Round
He used to tell us long stories every evening
about King Arthur's court. They were prime
stories, too. We both wished we had lived in
those days, and had had a chance at slaying
the king's enemies, and smashing down the
castle walls. We told Uncle Jack so the night
before he went away, and he said there was no
reason why we could n't be knights now just as
well as then.
"Here 's Launcelot, already," he said; "and
Jim can be Sir Galahad."
"Then you shall be our King Arthur," said
Launce, "and while you 're away we '11 try to
win honors for you."
"You should win honors for some fair
maiden," said Uncle Jack, laughing. "There's
Susan Briggs, for instance-it would n't hurt
you to practise a little chivalry toward her."
Launce looked rather sober, though I don't

see why he should, for he never teased Susan
as I did.
She lived near us, and when we told her
about our being Knights of the Round Table
she thought it was great fun, and said she
wanted to come into the game, too. So she
read up some of the stories, and one day
she came over with a curtain-cord around her
waist for a girdle, and her hair down her back,
and said she had decided to be Elaine, the Lily
Maid of Astolat.
I hollered. I could n't help it. The idea of
Susan Briggs with her carroty hair and freckles
being the Lily Maid nearly finished me. She
grew very red when I laughed, but she did n't
say anything. She only kept her eyes fixed
anxiously on Launce, and waited for him to
speak. He looked away from her, but I saw
the corners of his mouth twitch before he an-
swered. Then he said:
All right, Susan, there's no reason why you
should n't be the Lily Maid if you want to,
though I don't care for that sort of rubbish
But, Launce," she cried, "it is n't rubbish.
Some parts of it are splendid-that place
where she died and they floated her down the
river to the queen's court, in a barge all fitted
up with cloth-of-gold and lilies and-things."
Lots of fun she must have had out of it if


she was dead," said I. "They might just as
well have sent her down in a scow, so far as
she knew."
"You see, the knights always had to have
some fair damsel to fight for," she continued,
without paying any attention to me.
Stuff!" said I crossly. "Let them fight
for their king. What 's the use of having girls
in it, anyway ?"
"Why not ?" said Susan, flashing round at
me. Can't a girl be brave and loyal as well
as a boy ?"
"Of course she can," said Launce hastily,
scowling at me. I '11 be your knight, and I '11
wear your colors in the fray, fair Elaine."
"What are they ? -red? said I, and Susan
went home mad.
After she had gone, Launce told me he
thought it was mean to laugh at her. She was
homely, of course, but she might outgrow it in
time. I said she 'd better wait till she did, be-
fore she called herself Elaine; but I felt ashamed
of myself, and was careful after that to call her
the Lily Maid.
Well, we had a splendid time that summer.
We used to have tournaments in the big field
on the other side of the river. The Lily Maid
had an old white horse which she called her
"palfrey," and when we borrowed it for our
jousts we called it the "fiery steed." We used
to draw lots to see which two of us should ride
to the meadow, for it was a long way from the
The day before we expected Uncle Jack
home, we were going up to the field to prac-
tise for a grand tourney, and that time the Lily
Maid and I drew the longest lots and started
ahead on the steed. When we reached the
field, we sat down under a big tree and waited
for Launce; but he did n't come.
I would that the valiant Sir Launcelot would
brace up," said I, after awhile, "for yonder sable
cloud forbodes a rattling old thunder-storm."
"I would he would," said the Lily Maid, be-
ginning to fidget. She hated thunder-storms.
I climbed a tree to see if Launce were coming,
but he was n't in sight.
"I trow our brave knight did n't try to cut
across lots where Farmer Hale's red bull is,"
called up the Lily Maid.

"Cracky! I trow not too," said I, coming
down in a hurry. We had better go back and
see ?"
It did n't take us long to get to the field, but
we stopped this side of the wall and looked
about for the bull.
Farmer Hale had been clearing up his land
that afternoon, and there was a great brush-heap
smoking away in the middle of the field, just
this side of an old windmill. We were afraid
the bull was hiding over there behind it, so we
just stood on the wall and shouted for Launce.
The thunder-storm was nearer now, the crashes
and lightning seemed to come at almost the
same minute, and the wind was blowing a reg-
ular hurricane. The Lily Maid looked white
enough, even through her freckles, but she did n't
say a word about going home, for by that time
we both were pretty well scared about Launce.
Between the peals of thunder, we began to
hear a queer noise in the direction of the wind-
mill. The Lily Maid and I started for it on a.


run, keeping an eye out all the time for the
bull. As we drew nearer, the noise became a
loud roar, and above it all we could hear shouts
from Launce.


"Jiminy! said I, "I believe that Launce
and the bull are shut up together in the wind-
"Are you in there, Launce ? screamed the
Lily Maid, and then we could hear his voice
from 'way above us:
"Yes, I am. I 'm up where the shafting is.
That bull chased me in here, and he 's ramping
around underneath me. He 's shut the door

A big gust of wind swept across the field at
this moment, nearly taking the Lily Maid and
me off our feet. It brought with it a cloud of
dust and dry leaves, and the great brush-heap,
which till now had been smoldering quietly,
suddenly blazed up and began to scatter sparks
in every direction.
The Lily Maid screamed and seized my arm.
The sparks are falling on the mill," she


on himself in some way, and now he can't get
out, and neither can I! "
All this time the thunder was crashing louder
than ever and the bull was bellowing like mad.
I looked through a crack and could see him
tearing round and round in a circle, and could
just catch a glimpse of Launce, crouching on a
beam and scowling down at him. They looked
so funny that I could n't help laughing.
"This is indeed a woful plight, 0 brave Sir
Launcelot," I began. "Now is the time to
show your prowess. What doughty deed-"

shouted with her mouth close to my ear. "It
will be on fire in a second. We must get
Launce out."
"Great Caesar's ghost! What 's the mat-
ter ? called Launce in a scared voice. "The
air is full of smoke. Is anything on fire ?"
A little blaze burst out from the roof. I
gave one look at it, and then started across the
fields as fast as I could go.
"I '11 get help," I shouted. "Tell Launce
to hold out a few minutes longer."
But as I vaulted the fence I heard a shriek


from the Lily Maid. I turned and saw the top
of the old mill all ablaze.
For a second I could n't move; then the
peril Launce was in came over me, and I
leaped the fence and started back on a run.
But the Lily Maid was before me. She had
her hand on the door, and I knew what she
was going to do.
Don't open that door! I yelled. "You 'll
be killed. Wait for me."
She hesitated a moment, and I saw her catch
her breath and look up at the burning roof,
and then-
"You '11 be too late!" she screamed, and she
flung the door wide open.
Out dashed the bull in a blind fury. He
knocked over the Lily Maid in his first wild
rush, but the smoke seemed to madden him
and he did not stop, but gave a fearful roar
and galloped across the fields.
It did n't take me long to get to her, and as
I knelt down by her side Launce came stag-
gering out of the mill, half choked by the
smoke. He looked at her in a dazed sort of
way, but did n't say a word till I shook him
by the shoulder.
"Help me lift her, Launce. We must get
her away from here out of the smoke," said
I, for her face was very white.
Then he said: "She 's dead, is n't she,
Jim ? and lifted her all by himself and car-
ried her across the field as if he did n't feel her
weight at all. He put her down under a tree,
and I ran as fast as I could and brought some
water from the brook.

Soon she opened her eyes, and after staring
at us for a moment she said dreamily:
"' That day there was dole in Astolat.' "
Don't talk like that, Susan," said I quickly,
and Launce's face grew a shade whiter, but
she went right on:
"I know I made a funny Elaine, but I did
so want to be brave and loyal as well -
as-" But she could n't finish the sentence.
She put both hands wearily to her head and
closed her eyes again.
I tell you it 's rather hard on a fellow to
have the mean things he 's said brought up to
him at a time like that, and my voice was' so
choked for a minute that I could hardly answer.
"There 's no need to talk of being brave,
Susan, after what you 've just done."
You're worth ten of us, Susan !" said Launce
in a very low voice, and after this we '11 al-
ways be your true knights."
And well, there is n't much more to tell.
Susan was ill for several weeks, and the next
time we saw her she was so thin and white
that she might have called herself the Lily
Maid in good earnest.
One day, when she was nearly well, we three
walked down to the meadow together. We
leaned over the wall and looked at the ruins of
the old windmill.
"Sir Launcelot's tower! said Susan, with a
little laugh. Methinks it seems a sorry rest-
ing-place for the chief of knights."
"It would have been a good deal sorrier
resting-place if it had n't been for the Lily Maid
of Astolat," said I seriously.



IT was ages ago, at the Sari-Ann fair,
The king called the court barber to shave his
face bare,
But to make the least scratch on his skin,--if
he dare !
Then the barber's assistant made haste to pre-
Lather, sponges, and towels, as usual there,
Strapped the strip of a razor-strop tied to the
Brought the eau-de-cologne to put on the king's
And the barber began with the shaving.

When a band, marching by in
a rollicking way,
Played a bit of a jig such as
circus-bands play;
And the king, who was feeling
quite merry that day,
Beat the time with a nod of
his head as he lay,
Loudly whistling the tune, ere the barber could
That to whistle while under a razor won't pay:
(When a king says to shave, why, a man must
So the barber went right along shaving).

Up and down, all around, the alert razor
Till, in one most unfortunate moment of
The king's nose, with a bridge like the roof of a
Struck the razor, which, coasting along like a
Slipped, and chipped from its tip one diminutive
shred !
Like a streak of greased lightning the poor bar-
ber fled,


While the king pursued, foaming with rage, as
he said,
"There shall never be any more shaving!

" Ne'er again shall a whisker be cut in this


-- ---c~


Or a razor so much as be held in the hand; Though they plaited them, matted them,
Or an edged tool be used to cut beards!- un- wrapped them around
derstand? From their heads to their toes, coil on coil,
Shears and all are included in this stern com- pound on pound:
mand! "Who removes them wins fame to forever re-
All offenders shall be buried, living, in sand, sound,
Parboiled, cut in sausage-meat, pickled and And he '11 get half the kingdom for shaving."

And sealed with the government pork-packer's One fine day, down the road that approached
brand !" Sari-Ann,
So the barbers all gave up their shaving. Strode a stranger, abstractedly framing a plan
To take off those beards without breaking the
Then the whiskers grew up, and the whiskers ban.
grew down, Now, this stranger had traveled in far Hindu-
And the whiskers grew gray, and the whiskers stan,
grew brown Timbuctoo, Totolapa, Toorookhansk, and Toor-
Mustapha! There soon were more whiskers fan,
than town !-
And so long grew the king's that they covered
his gown.
Then the monarch announced, with a terrible
For a shave without cutting I '11 give half my
Get to work, now, ye wits, and ye men of re-
To devise some new method of shaving."

But the years rolled along, and no way could
be found,
From the clouds up above, or from under the
To remove the array. So did whiskers abound.
Their prodigious great lengths did all tourists
astound, -


Pole to pole, zone to zone, from Beersheba to
And he felt that he was the identical man
That could amputate beards without shaving.

In the square by the palace he set up his shop;
Not a cup, or a lather-brush, razor, or strop,
Nor of bay-rum, pomatum, or hair-oil one drop.
In fact, nothing at all-just a big sign on top
That made every one stare, that made every one
That made every one glare, with both eyes on
the pop:
" King, courtier and cavalier, warrior and fop,

Each observer flew home all his neighbors to

Just to look at this very improbable thing,
And the rumor ran round like a bull in a ring
Till it came to the palace. Then up rose the
"Bring him here. If he fail in this task, he
shall swing
By the nape of his neck from the end of a
If he win, all my wealth at his feet I will fling,
This madman who shaves without shaving."

Then the king and the court and court-coun-
selors three,
Men-at-arms, knights and squires, a brave sight
to see,
And the populace crowding the grand gallery,
All assembled to witness what necromancy
This weird stranger might use that all whiskers
should flee.




_ ~___~__?_~iii~_l_ ____ ~



What strange magic arts, what fell mystery,
What grim abracadabra this system might be
To get rid of beards without shaving!

" Now promise, 0 Sire, since my life is at stake,
That all methods, not cutting, I 've freedom to
That you will not once ask me my task to for-
Else you give me your kingdom, land, river,
and lake."
The king promised a promise he never could
When a huge pair of pincers that made his
knees quake
Were produced by the barber with threatening
shake -
"Now," said he, "we '11 go on with the
shaving !"

Then he smiled a grim smile and secured a firm
With his pincers upon the king's beard, gave a
And pulled ten long hairs with a snap like a whip!
With a hop and a howl the king clutched at
his lip,

Crying, Crickets If this is the way that you
A beard off without using the scissors to snip,
Or a razor to shave, or an edged tool to clip,
I have got all I want of your shaving!

"Why, just see, you have pulled only ten bris-
tles out,


And there must be, beside those, ten thousand
as stout;
And before you could pull every separate sprout,
I would be everlastingly- gone up the spout!
It may amuse you and the crowd, I 've no
But it's murder for me Take the crown,- take
the gout!
Take the land with its gold, take the sea with
its trout,
Take it all-but excuse me from shaving "

"Nay, I want not your crown: work is plenty
for me;
High living with hair-cutting does not agree.
Reconsider your edict and leave each man free
To be shaved or unshaven as pleasanter be;
For a king's stanchest prop is his leniency.
And, though men, now and then, scratch their
noses, maybe
A king's eyes should be wide enough open to see
There are many worse evils than shaving."

Then the king arose meekly and said that he
He had paid pretty dear for his share of the
That his edict was wrong, he then freely con-
fessed :
All persons might shave. As for him, he 'd be
If he did n't give shaving and shavers a rest
But would still act as king -if the barber thought


And would be his Chief Chancellor, with a be-
Giving him all the Sari-Ann shaving.

Then there came by the dozen, there came by
the score,
Ninety thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four
(So the censuses said; but it surely was more)
Wanting shaves who had never been shaven be-
All awaiting their turns at the barber's front
While the round dollars rolled in a ceaseless

Till the boxes and bags of gold covered the
And the barber grew weary with shaving.

And the sum of his wealth when the business
was done
Outweighed a fat elephant more than a ton.
Then he bought out the king and the kingdom,
for fun,
Made the monarch his agent, the business to
And he said, "Of all proverbs the best is this
one :
'A wise barber sticks to his shaving.' "



when he was four
/ yearsold,hopedthat
.. one day he might
S / be allowed to eat
just as much turkey
i ashepossibly could.
S He was eight now,
but that hope had
Pi not been realized.
poI Mrs.Jericho Bob,
his mother, kept
S! hlens for a living,
S and she expected
that they would lay
I '' enough eggs in the
course of time to
help her son to an
independent career
S as a bootblack.
They lived in a
tumbledown house
in .ia aste of land near the steam cars, and be-
.ide- herhens Mrs. Bob owned a goat.
Oui story has, however, nothing to do with
ihe go.a:c except to say he was there, and that he
av-i .,n nibbling terms, not only with Jericho Bob,
but v.irh Bob's bosom friend, Julius Casar Fish,
pndl ir was surprising how many old hat-brims
and othere r tidbits of clothing he could swallow
tIringi a day.
A A Mlrs. Bob truly said, it was no earthly use
:i *.:t something new for Jericho, even if she
C'O:ul -I afford it; for the goat browsed all over
hin,. nd had been known to carry away even
i 1.. of his trousers.
IJ in.!io Bob was eight years old, and the
nre ri ...f his bosom, Julius Caesar Fish, was
lirie. They were both of a lovely black; a tal-
Iok-di- could n't take the kink out of their hair,
and Ihe hardest whipping did not disturb the
Sven cheerfulness of their spirits. They were so
VL. XIX.-5.

much alike that if it had n't been for Jericho's
bow-legs and his turn-up nose, you really could
not have told them apart.
A kindred taste for turkey also united them.
In honor of Thanksgiving day Mrs. Bob al-
ways sacrificed a hen which would, but for such
blessed release, have died of old age. One
drumstick was given to Jericho, whose interior
remained an unsatisfied void.
Jericho Bob had heard of turkey as a fowl
larger, sweeter, and more tender than hen; and
about Thanksgiving time he would linger around
the provision stores and gaze with open mouth
at the noble array of turkeys hanging, head
downward, over bushels of cranberries, as if
even at that uncooked stage, they were destined
for one another. And turkey was his dream.
It was spring-time, and the hens were being
a credit to themselves. The goat in the yard,
tied to a stake, was varying a meal of old shoe
and tomato-can by a nibble of fresh green grass.
Mrs. Bob was laid up with rheumatism.
"Jericho Bob!" she said to her son, shaking
her red and yellow turban at him, Jericho Bob,
you go down an' fetch de eggs to-day. Ef I
find yer don't bring me twenty-three, I 'll well,
never mind what I '11 do, but yer won't like it."
Now, Jericho Bob meant to be honest, but
the fact was he found twenty-four, and the
twenty-fourth was so big, so remarkably big.
Twenty-three eggs he brought to Mrs. Bob,
but the twenty-fourth he sinfully left in charge
of the discreet hen.
On his return he met Julius Casar Fish, with
his hands in his pockets and his head extin-
guished by his grandfather's fur cap.
Together they went toward the hen-coop and
Julius Caesar Fish spoke, or rather lisped (he had
lost some of his front teeth):
"Jericho Bobth, tha'th a turkey'th egg."
"Yer don't say so ?"
I think i'th a-goin' ter hatch." No sooner


said than they heard a pick and a peck in the
Pick! a tiny beak broke through the shell.
"Peck!" more beak. Crack!" a funny
little head, a long, bare neck, and then Pick!
Peck! Crack! before them stood the funniest,
fluffiest brown ball resting on two weak little
"Hooray! shouted the woolly heads.
"Peep said turkeykin.
"It's mine! Jericho shouted excitedly.
I'th Marm Pitkin'th turkey'th; she laid it
It 's mine, and I 'm going to keep it, and
next Thanksgiving I 'm going ter eat him."


with what impatience and anticipation they saw
spring, summer, and autumn pass, while they
watched their Thanksgiving dinner stalk proudly
up the bare yard, and even hop across the rail-
road tracks.
But, alas the possession of the turkey brought
with it strife and discord.
Quarrels arose between the friends as to the
prospective disposal of his remains. We grieve
to say that the question of who was to cook
him led to blows.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. There
was a coldness between the friends which was
not dispelled by the bringing of a pint of cran-
berries to the common store by Jericho, and the



Think your ma 'll let you feed him up for
that ? Julius Caesar asked, triumphantly.
Jericho Bob's next Thanksgiving dinner
seemed destined to be a dream. His face
I '11 tell yer what I '11 do," his friend said,
benevolently; "I '11 keep 'm for you, and
Thanksgivin' we '11 go halvth."
Jericho resigned himself to the inevitable, and
the infant turkey was borne home by his friend.
Fish, Jr., lived next door, and the only differ-
ence in the premises was a freight-car perma-
nently switched off before the broken-down fence
of the Fish yard; and in this car turkeykin took
up his abode.
I will not tell you how he grew and more
than realized the hopes of his foster-fathers, nor

contributing thereto of a couple of cold boiled
sweet potatoes by Julius Caesar Fish.
The friends sat on an ancient wash-tub in the
back yard, and there was a momentary truce
between them. Before them stood the freight-
car, and along the track beyond an occasional
train tore down the road, which so far excited
their mutual sympathy that they rose and
shouted as one man.
At the open door of the freight-car stood the
unsuspecting turkey, and looked meditatively
out on the landscape and at the two figures on
the wash-tub.
One had bow-legs, a turn-up nose, and a huge
straw hat. The other wore a fur cap and a
gentleman's swallow-tail coat, with the tails
caught up because they were too long.


The turkey hopped out of the car and gazed
confidingly at his protectors. In point of size
he was altogether their superior.
"I think," said Jericho Bob, "we 'd better
ketch 'im; to-morrow 's Thanksgiving. Yum! "
And he looked with great joy at the innocent,
the unsuspecting fowl.
"Butcher Tham 'th goin' ter kill 'im for
uth," Julius Caesar hastened to say, "an' I kin
cook 'im."
"No, you ain't. I 'm goin' to cook 'im,"
Jericho Bob cried, resentfully. He 's mine."
"He ain'th; he 'th mine."
He was my egg," and Jericho Bob danced
defiance at his friend.
The turkey looked on with some surprise, and
he became alarmed when he saw his foster-
fathers clasped in an embrace more of anger
than of love.
"I '11 eat 'im all alone! Jericho Bob cried.
No, yer sha' n't! the other shouted.
The turkey shrieked in terror, and fled in a
circle about the yard.
"Now, look yere," said Julius Caesar, who had
conquered. "We 're goin' to be squar'. He
wath your egg, but who brought 'im up ? Me!
Who 'th got a friend to kill'im? Me! Who 'th
got a fire to cook 'im? Me! Now yougitup
and we '11 kitch 'im. Ef you thay another word
about your egg I '11 jeth eat 'im up all mythelf."
Jericho Bob was conquered. With mutual
Understanding they approached the turkey.
"Come yere; come yere," Julius Caesar said,
For a moment the bird gazed at both, uncer-
t.,n what to do.
"Come yere," Julius Caesar repeated, and
made a dive for him. The turkey spread his
tail. Oh, did n't he run!
Now I 've got yer!" the wicked Jericho
tl'-L cried, and thought he had captured the
1: I. ; when with a shriek from Jericho Bob, as
trin turkey knocked him over, the Thanksgiving

dinner spread his wings, rose in the air, and
alighted on the roof of the freight-car.
The turkey looked down over the edge of the
car at his enemies, and they gazed up at him.
Both parties surveyed the situation.
We 've got him," Julius Caesar cried at last,
exultantly. "You git on the roof, and ef you
don't kitch 'im up thar, I '11 kitch 'im down
With the help of the wash-tub, an old chair,
Julius Caesar's back, and much scrambling, Jeri-
cho Bob was hoisted on top of the car. The
turkey was stalking solemnly up and down the
roof with tail and wings half spread.
I 've got yer now," Jericho Bob said, creep-
ing softly after him. I 've got yer now, sure,"
he was just repeating, when with a deafening
roar the express-train for New York came tear-
ing down the road.
For what possible reason it slowed up on
approaching the freight-car nobody ever knew;
but the fact remains that it did, just as Jericho
Bob laid his wicked black paw on the turkey's
The turkey shrieked, spread his wings, shook
the small black boy's grasp from his tail, and
with a mighty swoop alighted on the roof of the
very last car as it passed; and in a moment
more Jericho Bob's Thanksgiving dinner had
vanished, like a beautiful dream, down the road!
What became of that Thanksgiving dinner no
one ever knew. If you happen to meet a travel-
ing turkey without any luggage, but with a smile
on his countenance, please send word to Jeri-
cho Bob.
Every evening he and Julius Caesar Fish
stand by the broken-down fence and look up
and down the road, as if they expected some
Jericho Bob has a turn-up nose and bow-legs.
Julius Caesar still wears his dress-coat, and both
are watching for a Thanksgiving dinner that
ran away.



THE oak-tree selected by the committee was And I am sure I can find no more fitting occa-
excellently adapted to the purpose, being deep sion than the present to thank you all for hav-
in the woods, shady, and yet not so thickly ing supplied my wife and children with acorns
leaved as to obstruct the audience's view of the and walnuts during my absence. But for the
sky, in case of hawks or other i
unruly members of society. -
Professor A. Chipmunk, ,
though a little dingy in' ,
coloring and somewhat thin, 1 '
as indeed was natural, con- ,
sidering his experiences, ap- I. 'I "
peared to be fully conscious .-- '
of the importance of the oc- -.-
casion and ready to do his -t tiL-
best. I
Precisely at noon he
climbed to his place on one
of the smaller branches, took .
a dainty sip of rain-water .' i.
from an acorn-cup, waved
his tail gracefully to the "
audience, and began: '

Your committee has told ; '
me that there is much curi-, .-
osity among you in regard
to my experiences during -t "' '''
my recent captivity in the -,; ''., '
hands of that grasping and.
selfish race which converts
our happy woodlands into
desolate farms, and prefers -~ ~ ---
to the sprightly and interest- 7 "
ing dwellers of the woods o C
the overfed and stupid
slaves of the farm-yard. ""
For the benefit of my -
plainly that I refer to the ordinary Homo, cor- sake of the few who may not know how it was
only known as Man. [Applause.] that I became the prisoner of the slow-moving
Most of you know that it was my misfortune animals to which I have already referred, I will
to fall into the clutches of these strange ani- explain that I entered, in the interests of science,
mals, and my good fortune to return again to a sort of inclosure or artificial burrow known in
my bereaved family, and to you, my neighbors. their tongue as a "trap." My purpose in en-


tering the inclosure was to ascertain whether it
was a safe place for a squirrel to reside, and I
am quite convinced by my experience that it is
not. The trap is commodious, dark, and well
sheltered; but it has the serious defect that the
entrance does not always remain open. In-
deed, in the case of the one I examined, no
sooner had I entered it than something fell
over the end, shutting out the light. As it fell
I heard a peculiar sound from a bush near by,
sounding like "Igothim."
Some of you may ask why I did not push
aside the obstruction and escape. The same
thought occurred to me; but, no matter how
hard I pushed, it would not move. I then be-
gan to gnaw my way out, when a remarkable
thing occurred. You have many of you been
upon a branch when it was violently swayed by
the wind. In the same way did this trap be-
have. It seemed to be raised from the ground
and to be shaken violently, so violently, in fact,
that I had to cease my attempts at gnawing my
way out.
This continued for quite a time, and when it
ceased the cover was opened. Glad to escape,
I sprang through the opening. But to my sur-
prise I found I was not free. I found myself
in another inclosure made of thin straight
twigs, without bark, and harder than any wood.
I think I may say without presumption that my
teeth are as good as those of any rodent who
may be present, but try as I might, I could
make no impression upon even the smallest of
those cold gray twigs.
[At this moment two blue-jays in one of the
upper branches, who had already been chatter-
ing in rather an audible tone, burst into a peal
of mocking laughter. A king-bird flew at
them, and gave them a good pecking, where-
upon they flew away toward the swamp, and
the audience settled down again and begged
the professor to go on.]
As I picked up a few words of their lan-
guage, I can inform you that this contrivance
was called a "cage," and seemed to have been
made for the purpose of retaining such wood-
dwellers as might fall into these creatures'
Several of the young animals gathered around
it and examined me closely, apparently to de-

termine whether I was good to eat. Indeed
the youngest of them--what they call a
"Polly"- tried to seize a piece of my tail,
but was prevented by the older and greedier
They seemed to think that I was not fat
enough to be eaten, for they furnished me a va-
riety of food. Among the things offered were
bits of apple, a kind of sweet stone they called
"sugar," which was like very clean ice or hard
snow, a dusty sort of dry stuff known to them
as "crackers," and a few very poor walnuts.
Of course I did not feel like eating; but they
would not leave me alone. They poked me
with bits of stick until, seeing a good opportu-
nity, I bit the young animal called a Polly on
the end of one of her soft claws. Then she
wanted to hurt me; but a larger one of the an-
imals, known as a Papa," interfered and tied
a soft white leaf around her claw, probably so
that she might not scratch me.
By this time I heard a curious jingling sound,
and I was soon left alone.
This jingling sound was evidently of much
importance to these curious creatures. I heard
it always early in the morning, at about midday,
and after dark; and whenever it was heard, the
animals, big and little, would leave me for a
time long enough for eating perhaps a dozen
hickory nuts.
Every part of the cage was comfortable and
quiet, except one. That was a movable place
into which I could crawl; but as soon as I was
in it, it would slide from under my feet. But no
sooner did I slide from one part than I found
another beneath my feet. It was very curious.
They called it a wheel."
Except the continued staring and poking,
nothing was done to me the first day. But, at
night, there was a great slamming and banging,
the lights were suddenly taker? away, just as the
moonlight ends when a black cloud goes over
the moon, and the whole place in which they
lived became dark.
Then how I suffered! The air became very
heavy and close. I could not sleep. The hole
in which these queer animals sleep was terribly
warm and oppressive, and I longed to be in the
woods again.
When the light returned, the jingling sound


was repeated, the Papa and the Polly and the
rest entered the big hollow where I was, and
repeated a form of words until I was able to
remember it. They said, Good morning,
Papa," Good morning, Polly," and then went
out of the hollow.
After another long time, a third one of them
came in and looked very pleasantly at me.
The Polly and the Papa came and stood look-
ing in, too. Then the larger one said some
words to the others, and repeated something
like, "Letiimgo."
The Polly said, Whymama "
The other said again, Lethimgo."
Then the cage was picked up and carried
out of the hollow and into the field where they
lived. Next the Polly worked over one side
of the cage until she had made an opening in
Strange to say, none of them seemed to
notice this opening, and of course I did not call
their attention to the oversight. [Laughter.]
I waited until the Polly had run away to
where the other creatures stood, and then I
made a quick jump through the opening, and
away I went!
It did not take me long, I promise you,
to make my way back to the woods, and
since my return I have lived among you as

My observations while in captivity may be
summed up as follows:
I should advise you to avoid entering any of
those peculiar square, hollow logs known as
" traps," as it is much easier to enter them than
to escape from them. I am sure few would be
clever enough to escape as I did.
If you should be so unfortunate as to find
yourself in a "cage,"-which, you remember,
is made of hard gray twigs,- bite the soft
claws of the creatures who poke you.
Do not eat the strange foods known as
"crackers" or candy," as they do not agree
with any but men.
Large men are known as the Papa or Oh-
Papa," and the smaller ones as "Polly" or
"Bobby." The worst kind, I believe, is the
"Bobby," and the best and kindest seems to
be the "Whymama."
These curious creatures all have a means of
putting out the stars and moon at night, and
prefer to sleep in very hot and bad air. They
also run away somewhere whenever they hear
a jingle, which happens three times a day.
I thank you for your attention, and hope to
be in my usual health soon.

After a vote of thanks the meeting ad-
journed, much impressed by the boldness and
learning of Professor Chipmunk.


~P-r. !~; ~
1 4


* V

- i

..,, ,.

-. -"l "-


THE FIRST ------ --

T-H F--I-ST T TH--




Sr) U NE day while Johnny was out with his nurse, a
hand-organ on wheels standing in the street played
a very lively tune. "What is that tune?" asked
f ,/ \ Johnny. I like it." So the nurse asked the organ-
grinder. "That-a tune-a he call 'Johnny, get your
Sgun,' said the man.
M Johnny kept thinking "what a funny name for a
tune!" And the next day he went into the room
where his papa was painting a picture. After a
while papa left Johnny by himself, and-what do
-. you suppose happened?
Everything was still,
and Johnny was won-
dering what he 'd do next, when in through
the open window came the sound of a street-
boy singing at the top of his voice.
Johnny knew the song at once. It was
"Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get
your gun," and our Johnny thought to himself, i
"I 'd like to get a gun. Where can I find
one ? "
Looking about, Johnny saw, standing
against the wall on one side of the room,
seven guns -some very big and some not so
big. They belonged to his papa, and he used
them when he painted pictures of soldiers.
Johnny trotted over and picked out (as a
little boy always does) the biggest he could
find. It happened to be an old gun, one of
the kind that were used long ago, with a
rusty lock and barrel.


None of the guns were loaded, so Johnny was
in no danger; but he never thought of danger.
Down from its place he lifted the gun and put it
on the floor, and pulled away at the ramrod, and at
last got it out. Then he tried to put it back in its
place, but it went into the barrel instead. Then he
tried the lock; but try as he might, it would n't
work. "How do they shoot it?" he wondered.

S "This way, I guess," said he; but he could
Snot lift the big gun up to his shoulder.
Just then the curtains of the door opened,
I \and there stood his papa!
i "Why, my boy, what are you doing?" he
asked. "You might drop that big gun on
S i'i your toes. Why did you get that gun?"
;1 Why, papa, I heard somebody outside
{ 1M singing 'Johnny, get your gun,' and I did n't
S -' have any; so I thought I 'd get one of yours.
J-! ^ /11i This was the biggest I could find."
SHis father put the gun back in its
S- --place, and told Johnny that he
S -^ should have a gun of his very
own if he would promise not to touch the big ones again.
Johnny prom-
ised. So a new gun Vv.
was bought for '
him, a toy-gun that
just fitted his little
hands; and now
when Johnny hears
the song, he says,
"I'm a Johnny,
and I have a gun.
I'll go and get it!" -



ON some day during this fine, brisk, rustling
November, my hearers, many of you will have the
pleasure of attending a Thanksgiving feast either
at home or elsewhere- and if you do, be sure not
to forget the thanks-giving part of it. The Deacon
tells me that folk with good appetites and genial
natures often do so nowadays, and he is sorry for it.
A Thanksgiving feast may be one thing, or it
may be another, or both and the Deacon thinks
it may as well be both. If you must forget one
part of Thanksgiving Day, he says, forget the
turkeys, the pumpkin pies, and all that sort of
thing, but don't forget the best of all things-
which is gratitude.

TALKING of the Deacon reminds me that his
favorite November expression is: True as per-
simmons. "
"And I mean it strictly," he explains to the
dear Little Schoolma'am. Your persimmon,
ripe or not, is as honest a thing as one can pick
up in a week of Sundays. If it 's a ripe persim-
mon it gives in and tells you so at once, and you
believe it-and if it is not ripe-"
Well, if there is any flattery, any dissembling,
any nonsense about an unripe persimmon, the
Deacon says he has been mistaken for some time
past, that's all!
HERE is a true story which came to this pulpit
from a friend of the Deacon's:
It appears that a farmer in Pennsylvania lately was
disturbed while at dinner by the bellowing of his cattle.
He ran out, and found that a bear was inviting a calf to
come over the fence and provide him with veal cutlets.
The farmer resolved to attend the proposed banquet, and
thought his rifle might be a useful companion. When
he brought the rifle the farmer found that his three-year-

old bull was arguing with the bear, and concluded to let
the bull and bear settle the question.
The bear thought the bull's horns were a pointed hint
to leave, and, after a poking, tried to climb the fence.
The bull wished to help him over, so the bear hit the
bull on the nose as a token that he preferred to get over
without help, and again went at the fence. Then the
bull charged, and down came fence, bear, and bull, all in
a heap.
Neither animal paused to count ten, though both were
out of temper, and the bull again charged on the bear;
but the bear hit him between the horns, and the bull
fell. Then the farmer, seeing that the bull was dying,
went after the bear, who retired to a swamp at the top of
his speed, receiving a few slight wounds from the farmer's
rifle. But the farmer's ammunition gave out, and he
went home for his son. The two followed the bear's
tracks, found him at home, and killed him. The bull
was dead, the calf died before night, and the farmer and
his son made up their minds that next time a bear came
to fight a bull of theirs they would do their shooting
earlier. The bear weighed three hundred pounds.

Now let us take up
ONE thing always vexes my birds and that is
to hear folks say in a satisfied way, just as if
they had settled the question conclusively, The
bird that can sing and will not sing must be made
to sing."
Now, did ever any one hear such nonsense as
that ? I should like to see anybody, however grand,
make one of my birds sing if it did n't choose to
sing !
HERE is a letter that contains, as you will see,
news for the Little Schoolma'am:
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I am not a school-
girl, for my sister and I are taught by a governess.
But I have heard something that will astonish the
dear Little Schoolma'am if she has not heard it
already. I call it good news, too, though she may
not do so. Will you please tell her that some of the
real learned grown folks in mama's Afternoon Club
believe that people ought to sayyou was and not you
were when you are speaking to one person (which
you know is the second person singular in gram-
mar). They sayyou were is plural (and so it is) and
if you are speaking to one person you must not speak
plural to him, any more than you would say of
a girl, She must put on her hat for they [meaning
the girl] are going out."
Maybe this sounds mixed, but it is the best I can
do at present.
Your young friend, LAURA PRICE.
WHILE we are considering questions of grammar,
allow me to show you these lively verses from E. F.
Green, a settled grammarian.

SHE was a real nice little girl,
With hair that hung in one long cue,
And she was meek as meek could be.
But when, one day, she came to me,
And said, I done it" for I did,"
Down from my nose my glasses slid,
I opened very wide my eyes,-


I did this to express surprise,-
And said, in voice that gruesome grew,
"This will not do."

She often folded in her lap
Her hands, and like a saint she seemed;
She sat for hours and hours that way,
But when, one time, I heard her say,
I seen it when she should have said
"I saw it," I just shook my head,
Took my galoshes from the shelf,
And in the rain walked by myself,
Remarking, She 's not what she seemed.
I dreamed! I dreamed! "
O little girls with yellow hair
And angel looks, beware !
Be very careful what you say,
Nor drive your dearest friend away
By fearful grammar; and when you
Don't know exactly what to do
Or say-say nothing. No real saint
Was ever known to say I ain't."
A LETTER from Kansas has a surprising story,
my friends. It tells me of a cow who, when she had
lost her calf, showed so much sorrow that it awak-
ened the sympathy of her owner's fourteen-year-old
son, and he showed her some slight kindness. The
grateful cow at once became fond of him, watched
for him as she would for her calf, and since then
she has shown her pleasure whenever he comes
near her. Indeed no one but this boy can manage
the poor animal, and wonderful stories are told of
her devotion to him. The Kansas papers say that
lately the boy had occasion to go to a neighboring
town, and, as he remained away until after milking
time, his sister, not daring to approach the cow in
any other way, decided to personate her brother.
So she put on a suit of his clothes and went into
the barnyard. The girl succeeded in deceiving the
cow until the boy was seen coming up the road,
when instantly the indignant animal kicked the
pail over and made a bound in the direction of the
youth, showing unmistakable evidences of delight.

HERE is a pumpkin story sent you by your friend
Emma M. Cass You see it was
I 'LL tell you what I would like to have," said
Johnny to his father, one day early last spring,
" and that is, a little piece of ground to plant some-
thing in."
Johnny's father gave his consent, and the next
morning saw our would-be farmer working away
on his own farm. By dinner-time he had spaded it
up, and planted some very choice pumpkin-seeds
in its sunniest corner. Then for days he watched
and waited until at last they began to send up their
little green shoots. When, in due time, they
waxed strong and vigorous, and began to put out
great yellow blossoms, and after a while some baby
pumpkins took shape, our little farmer was proud
indeed. There was one among them, however,
that seemed determined to get ahead of all the

others; for it grew and grew till it seemed as if it
must burst its plump sides, or stop growing.
One morning along came neighbor Sam to see
this wonderful pumpkin, for its fame had spread
through all the neighborhood. A pretty sizable
pumpkin," said he, "but it ought to grow a bit
bigger. I should feed it."
"Feed it! exclaimed Johnny. "Do pumpkins
ever eat?"
"To be sure they do -they are master hands
to drink milk, as I '11 show you, if you '11 fetch me
some in a large-mouthed bottle."
Away ran Johnny, who soon returned with a glass
jar of rich creamy milk. Farmer Sam then cut off
the end of the stalk or large vine on which the
pumpkin grew, and placed the remaining part in
the milk. "There, now," he said; "you 'll see
that milk disappear in almost no time, and you
must mind and keep the jar well filled."
Johnny followed directions faithfully, and in a
short time he was well rewarded. The milk was
swallowed, and the pumpkin thrived until no finer,
larger specimen had ever been seen in the country.

- .--'

It shall go to the State Fair," said Johnny's
father, and to the fair it went, this Jumbo of a
pumpkin. On the last day of the fair, as Johnny
entered the hall where the garden produce was dis-
played, about the first thing that met his eye was
his pumpkin, to which was attached a card bear-
ing these words: 'Master John Hill. First Prize
- ten dollars."
The happiest boy in the State, as you may sup-
pose, was Johnny.
THE dear Little Schoolma'am requests me to an-
nounce that correct solutions of "Arum's puzzle
which I gave you in August -have been sent in
by Lucy Goodrich, Marguerite Speckel, Katie
Mantner, Mabel E. G., Chas A. H., Edith L. G.,
Mabel H. S., "May '79," Gertrude A. L., M. B.
Lenis, S. G. L., Miss Maddalena S. T., Infan-
try," Helen B., Amy H. B., Grace A H., and
Edith A. P.
Arum asked for four words each made from all
of the seven letters: C D L Mi AE I. The words

DEAR JACK: Will you please ask your crowd of boys
and girls what they would answer to this question:
Does this earth when looked at from another planet
seem to he above or below it ? And, why ?
Vour constant reader, HELEN M--


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : ,I am staying at Virginia Beach,
which is a seaside place about seventeen miles from Nor-
folk. The beach is one of the finest along this coast,
being over a hundred feet wide.
Cape Henry is seven miles from here, and we often
drive there to see the lighthouse. The view from the
top of the lighthouse is perfectly beautiful. Looking
seaward you see nothing but a long, unbroken line of
glistening sand and water, the monotony of which is
broken here and there by a ship or wreck against which
the waves break, dashing the spray fifteen or twenty feet
into the air. On the other side there is a great hill of
gleaming sand a mile long, with a background of green
forest. Just back of the hotel is a magnificent wood of
pines, in the midst of which is a lovely lake where we
go fishing. I think my two greatest pleasures are fish-
ing and bathing. I have learned to swim and float, both
since I have been here, and have won two or three
I would like to describe to you some of the beautiful
walks and drives I take, but fear you will tire of my
letter. From your devoted reader, E. S. T.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen in your
"Letter-box" a letter from Cabourg, and so thought
that perhaps one from here would be acceptable.
Some people think that this beach is the most lovely
in all France; it is very long and sandy; it is called
La Plage des EBbAs (The Babies' Beach), on account of
the many children there. The surrounding country is
beautiful. Ten minutes from here is Dives, where Wil-
liam the Conqueror often was; it is a very interesting
old place. Henry IV. of France and Mme. de S6vigne
stayed there for some time also.
We are three sisters living in France; we have been
here two years and a half, and now, after such a long
time, we wish to go back to our native land.
We have taken you for several years and enjoy your
stories very much. Our favorite ones are, Lady Jane,"
" The Boy Settlers," "The Fortunes of Toby Trafford,"
"A Little Girl's Diary in the East," and May Bart-
lett's Stepmother." We are in boarding-school near
Paris. I have a great many friends there. I remain your
ever-devoted reader, HELEN MCC--

DEAR SAINT NICK: My little sister and I have been
playing Flower Ladies." As we had but very few roses,
we used the prim China-asters which one so often sees in
country gardens. We used too the quaint marigolds.
The large, sober-colored asters were the grandmas, the
soft, bright-colored ones were the sweet young ladies
named "Alice or" Gladys," while the little, white ones
were the dear little children or the fat, chubby babies.
Mama has promised me a little Skye terrier on my
twelfth birthday. I shall be very glad when the day
I love to read the letters in the "Letter-box" almost
as well as the.other parts of your charming magazine.
Your loving reader, GERALDINE G---.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My two brothers and I live in
Germany, on a farm, a big piece of land which our father
owns. Our lovely home is a castle, on the top of a small
hill. At the bottom of the hill our own gardener lives,
and takes care of the gate and animals. Our castle is
surrounded by a high stone wall, inside which we keep
a great many roses and other nice flowers.
We have a young crow; he is already pretty big, but
he does not fly away. His name is "Jacob." He goes
about our whole place by himself, everywhere, and when
he is hungry he comes back to his little hut and eats his
fill. Our house doggie is Affe "; he is very funny and
very good-natured; we hold him up by his tail some-
times, but he never thinks of biting or barking. We
have had him eight years now.
You must not think we are German children, for we
are Americans, and love you, ST. NICHOLAS.
I can make cakes on a little range, which belongs to
my kitchen, which is two yards long.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Southern girl, and
was thirteen years old last March. My four sisters are
eleven, nine, six, and two years old, respectively, and my
dear little baby brother is just two and a half months
old, and weighs eighteen or nineteen pounds, I think.
I am the eldest.
We used to live in New Orleans before we came to
Columbia, S. C., our home at present, where father is a
professor in the South Carolina College. Columbia is a
beautiful place. It has so many large trees and pretty
Every Christmas we go to the place where my oldest
sister and I were born, and where mother lived when
she was a little girl,- namely, Charleston. I have many
cousins there, and we make up games and play them,
and you may be sure we have good times.
My sweet, pretty little baby sister, and all the rest of
us, love to swing on the swing we have in our large,
beautiful yard. I don't think many people have the
kind I mean. You see it is just like two separate
swings, comparatively close together, with one long
board resting with one end in each swing. The long
board can be taken out, and then there are two little
swings. When the long board is in, two children can
get at each end and make it go, and others can sit in
the middle.
We used to have a funny old gander, who was very
fond of our cow" Evolution," called Lou. He would go
over to where Lou was and lie in the grass. Once Lou
got lost, and while she was gone the gander did n't seem
to know what to do, but when she came back he ran to
meet her, and flapped his wings, and said: "Oh, Lou,
I 'm so glad you 've come back! Where have you
been?" in gander language, and seemed just as glad to
see her back as any of us.
We have two cats, "Jet" and Joeberry." Did you
ever hear that name before? When my next-to-young-
est sister was a little baby thing, she was out driving
one evening with mother and my aunt. They were
talking about berries, and the horse was named "Joe."


My aunt turned to the baby and said, "What 's the
horse named?" She had the two things in her mind
and answered, "Joeberry." Ever since, any pet she
has is named "Joeberry."
It is our custom to say a verse of Scripture every
morning at the breakfast-table, right after the blessing,
and once, about a year after the "Joeberry" drive, we
were at breakfast, and when it came her turn to say a
verse (somebody usually taught her one, but that had
not been done that morning) she said quite confidently,
"Peek-a-boo! I see you. Come from behind the chair,--
peek-a-boo! "
I will say good-by now, dear ST. NICHOLAS, and re-
main your little friend, SusY L- .

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Irish boy on
a visit to my grandfather and uncles. They call me a
real "Tipperary bhoy." My home is in Clonmel, and I
have left a great lot of pigeons. My papa is trying to
train some of them for carriers. He sent some to Water-
ford, about thirty miles away, and they came back very
quickly. I am having a grand time in this lovely city.
My mama and sister are here, too. We have seen more
of Scotland. We like Stirling; it is all about Bruce and
Three boys there read you as well as we. Your
covers are sometimes all worn off with reading. My
aunt here has sent you to us for eight years,-quite
before I was born,-and I hope you will not be too busy
to read this and hear how much we all weary for you
every month. Dear ST. NICHOLAS, your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am nine years old and have
four brothers and one sister. We have a cat, a dog, a
horse, a canary bird, and some chickens. We had a dog
named "Joe "; we were very fond of him, but he got run
over by a large lumber-wagon and had to be shot. Our
new dog is a bird-dog.
We have a boy choir in our church and I am the
youngest boy in it. My brother George sings in it too.
We call our eldest brother "Edison," because he is fond
of electricity and has a laboratory full of batteries and
chemicals, etc.
We all like the ST. NICHOLAS. Mama also reads it.
Your friend, EDWARD M--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy eleven years
old, and I am a great admirer of your magazine.
I have been taking it for a number of years, and my
sister and I like very much to read it. The stories I
like best this year are "The Boy Settlers," "Chan-Ok;
A Romance of the Eastern Seas," and The Fortunes
of Toby Trafford." I would like very much to see
Saleh Bin Osman as that girl did, and think his history
is the best in the August number.
I live in a little village called Barton Heights, very
near Richmond. I like this place very much, the sum-
mer days are so much pleasanter than in the city. The
summers are very hot down here in Virginia, and we
hardly have any snow in the winter.
I am your devoted reader, GASTON OTEY W- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are having a perfectly
glorious time camping in the Rocky Mountains, in the
beautiful Ute Pass. It is in the largest and widest part

of the pass. We have very nice times riding donkeys.
I have been thrown over their heads twice, and do not
find it a very pleasant experience, although I have not
been hurt either time. I have been in Green Mountain
Falls five or six weeks with my sister and brother and
Aunt Carolyn. I am the oldest, my sister next, and my
brother is the youngest. There is just about two years
difference in our ages.
We enjoy you very much. We thought that "Lady
Jane was a beautiful story, and are very much inter-
ested in "Toby Trafford." I have taken you two years.
The other day we went up to Woodland Park, the next
station above Green Mountain Falls. The station itself
was not very beautiful, but the view was the most beau-
tiful I ever saw. We were on a little foot-hill called
Prospect Hill. And the mountains were in a circle
around us. Toward the south we could see Pike's
Peak, and toward the west we could see rows and rows
of mountains, and the last two or three were so far away
that you could only see their outline.
Green Mountain Falls is so called because of its many
trees, and their falls.
There was something very queer that we saw in August
ST. NICHOLAS. It was headed, "What Is It ?" and I
had thought of answering the question, but something
happened that I did not have time. The ones that an-
swered the question correctly were two others and Car-
oline B. S.," and I have wondered ever since if there is
another Caroline B. S. who takes ST. NICHOLAS.
Your loving reader, CAROLINE B. S--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Every time your paper comes
my sister Nellie and I have a fight who shall have it
first to read, and mama says if we don't stop fighting
over you, she won't have you come to the house any
more. We think we are the only ones that read you
in Newfoundland, and thought you might like to hear
about the Islands. We only came here six months ago,
and saw so many strange things.
Papa took us out in a boat with two fishermen to jig
for codfish. After we sailed out to the mouth of the
harbor we let down our jiggers, which are pieces of lead
shaped like small fishes and with two hooks at one end
and a string fastened to the other, which we pulled
up and down quickly in the water, and very soon we
caught forty small codfish, and the hooks would often
catch the fish in the body, as they could not get out of
the way quick enough.
Our boat was near to a big iceberg which was higher
than the masts of the vessels. They come from the
north in the spring, float away past the harbor, and often
get stopped in front of the harbor for several days, and
until the wind blows them away. Those that turn over
in the water are called growlers."
There are three kinds of bait which the fishermen use
to fish with: the caplin, the squid, and the herring.
The caplin is like a small herring and is hooked on to
a jigger; the squid is something like a piece of rope
about eight inches long, with one end fuzzed out. It is
cut in pieces and a piece hooked on the jigger. Most
of the codfish are caught on what are called the Grand
Banks, about two or three days' sail from here. These
banks are made by the icebergs bringing down with
them rocks and earth, and when they meet the warm
water from the south the ice melts, and the earth and
rocks sink to the bottom, and so in time the water has
got to be quite shallow, and it is around these banks
the fish feed. The banks cannot be seen, but the fisher-
men know where to find them. A great many of the
fish are brought here and are split open, cleaned, and
laid on fish-flakes to dry.


The flakes are made of small posts about six feet
high set up near the shore, and covered all over with
branches of trees flatted down. They put me in mind
of grape arbors. After the fish are dried they are tied
up in bundles called fagots, and after that they are
again dried and in about a month are ready to ship away.
Only the best salt is used to cure the fish. When we
saw them curing the fish the man gave me one, and
when I held it by the tail it dragged on the ground.
The vessels came in from the seal-fishing about the
middle of April, and brought with them thousands and
thousands of sealskins. We went over to see them
unloaded, and the fat taken and made into oil. But the
smell was so great that it made me sick, and I could
not go in; but mama and Nellie did. The skins are
taken into a large warehouse and the fat is cut from
them and melted into oil, which, after it has settled, is as
clear as water. The skins are salted down and shipped
away to make shoes and gloves. These are not the
seals that the sealskin coats are made of. There are
two kinds of seals, the harp and the hood. The hoods
are very savage.
Yours truly, STEPHEN P- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : We have taken you ever since
I can remember, so you may imagine how much I missed
you when I went away for the first time to school, in
Charleston, last winter. I am a little girl, twelve years
old, and have been going to school ever since I was three.
I have two sisters and a little brother. One of my sis-
ters is older than I am, and the other is younger. Their
names are Lizzie and Lou. My brother's name is Jacob
Ford. We are descendants of the old Jacob Ford, who
was aide-de-camp for General Washington. I have a
cousin in Morristown, N. J., who takes an interest in my
brother, and who sent him a picture of the old Ford
Mansion there, in which they now keep relics. We have
a large yard (nearly an acre, I think), and command a
lovely view of the river, in which we bathe every day.

Our yard is almost a farm-yard. We have two Jersey
cows named Bessie and Minnie," two horses named
"Belle" and "Nellie," a cat that my brother named
"Melum when he could not say "pussy," two kittens
not named yet, a dog named "Smut," and lots of
poultry. "Smut" is a very pretty, curly-haired black
dog, and is devoted to my brother. He knows a few
tricks. If you put a piece of cracker on his nose, and
say, "Ready! Aim! Fire he will throw it up and
catch it in his mouth. He is also a good hunting-dog.
I read in an 1887 number of your magazine a letter
in which a Philadelphia girl described sugar-cane and
Florida-moss as curiosities. It seemed so strange to us
who have all our trees covered with moss, and who eat
sugar-cane whenever we can get it in the fall. The cows
are very fond of moss, and we delight in robing our-
selves in it when we play. I also wish to say that the
girl made a mistake when she said that the moss looked
dead. It is very much alive, and blossoms. After a rain
it is bright green. Mattresses are often made of it when
it is dead and dry. I remain, your constant reader,


MY battery was mixed;
My wires were fixed;
And oh just think how I feel !
My jewels were laid;
And there they stayed;
For there came no burglar to steal.
M. W. R.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: M. M. I., V. V. W.,
Ernie I., Lily, Artie, Phil, Ellie, Pery and Winnie T.,
Nellie, Eva T. and Edna M. A., I. M. H., Vincent I., G.,
Carrie G. M., Edith S. I., Katharine McC., H. B. E.


4 [- -



DOUBLE DIAGONALS. Pulaski and Hogarth. Cross-words: ANAGRAM. Michael Angelo.
i. Peakish. 2. Gudgeon. 3. Allegro. 4. Decapod. 5. Parasol. OCTAGON. I. Let. 2. Fanes. 3. Lactate. 4. Enticer. 5. Teacher.
6. Attacks. 7. Hemici. 6. Steer. 7. Err.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. RHYMED DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals and finals, Pallas, Athene.
I dare do all that may become a man; Cross-words: i. Pandora. 2. Ararat. 3. Leith. 4. Lethe. 5. Am-
Who dares do more is none. phion. 6. Selene.
Macbeth, Act I., Sc. 7th. ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE. Central letters, Holland; from i to 14,
ZIGZAG. Poll Sweedlepipe. Cross-words: I. Ply. 2. Fob. 3. All. TimothyTitcomb. Cross-words: I. Mithras. 2. Bayonet. 3. Scol-
4. Elk. 5. Sue. 6. Owl. 7. Age. 8. Ken. 9. Daw. 1o. Ill. I. Bee. lop. 4. Mollusk. 5. Theater. 6. Chinese. 7. Shadows.
12. Ape. 13. Ire. 14. Apt. 15. Foe. PI. There comes a month in the weary year,
CUBE. From I to 2, Baltimore; 3 to 4, emolliate; I to 3, butler- A month of leisure and healthful rest,
age; 2 to 4, elucidate; 5 to 6, dangerous; 7 to 8, entertain; 5 to 7, When the ripe leaves fall and the air is clear,-
duplicate; 6 to 8, seclusion; I to 5, ballad; 2 to 6, -emboss; 4 to 8, October, the brown, the crsp, the blest.
ensign; 3 to 7, elapse. WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Goose. 2. Ousel. 3. Oside. 4. Sedum.
ORIENTALACROSTIC. Initials, Mahomet. Cross-words: I. Mecca. 5. Elemi. II. I. Stoat. 2. Tapir. 3. Opera. 4. Aired. 5. Trade.
2. Allah. 3. Houri. 4. Osman. 5. Mufti. 6. Emeer. 7. Tunis. RHOMBOID. Across: I. More. 2. None. 3. Eval. 4. Yule.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the x5th of each month, and
should.be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August x5th, from "The McG.'s"--" Benedick
and Beatrice"-Clara B. Orwig-"The Peterkins"-Paul Reese-Josephine Sherwood-A. H. R. and M. G. R.--"Infantry"-
Aunt Kate, Mama, and Jamie- Chester B. S. Blanche and Fred E. M. G. Wareham "- Helen C. McCleary -Jessie Chapman
- Ida C. Thallon -" May and'79 "-"The Wise Five "- Nellie L. Howes -" Uncle Mung "-" Leather-stocking"- Ulmer and Marion
- King Anso, IV."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August 15th, from Mama and Marion, i--Julia J., i-
"Romeo and Juliet," I-"A Third," 9-Grace and Maude, x-"Bubbles and Peggy," 4- Jeannette D. Nightingale, 5- Maude E.
Palmer, 12- A. J. and A., x -A. K. H., x "Lady Maud," I No name, Asbury Park, i R. A. Stewart, s Carrie Chester, -
Elsa Behr, Dictionary and Co., x2-Hubert L. Bingay, 1--R. W. R., L. A. K., and H. A. K., 8-Me and Jack, --Jeannette D.
Nightingale, 3 -Aunt Martha, Aunt Julia, May Belle, and Willy, 12 "Penrhyn," 4-No name, Ellenville, 9- Wilford W. Linsly, I -
Effie K. Talboys, 9-Emma R. W., 4- Arthur C. and Edna Haas, 7- "Charles Beaufort," ix -J. A. R., A. P. C., S. W. and A. W.
Ashhurst, 12-" Nutshell," x -Grace Hazard, I Auntie and I," i-Nannie J. Borden, 3- Clara Stewart, o--" The Hayseeds,"
9- "Wiontha," x2-Madeline H., Jack, and A., i- Ida and Alice, 12-Charles and Mary K., 4-Elaine and Grace S., i-Estelle and
Clarendon Ions and Mama, 2- Carrie Thacher, 2- Miss B. and H. S. R., 2-Margaret Mary Otis, --R. M. Huntington, t2-No
name, Tonawanda, 7--"Guinevere," x--C. G. M., x-Puss, Sissie Hunter, 3- "Chiddingston," 4-Papa and Edith, 7-
Marguerite Speckel and Katie Mautner, 4.


I. A LETTER from November. 2. A chart. 3. To
sing. 4. Warlike. 5. A name given to the Ith of No-
vember. 6. Sharp. 7. Crippled. 8. Asmallboy. 9.
A letter from August. F. S. F.

CROSS-WORDS: I. To encourage. 2. To disparage.
3. To fascinate. 4. Actors. 5. To exalt in station.
6. To provide. 7. A machine for lifting.
When rightly guessed, and placed one below another,
the diagonals (beginning at the upper left-hand corner)
will spell a city named after a certain English duke, who
afterwards became King James II. LUCIE M.

I. I. A SOFT magnesian mineral. 2. The difference in
value between metallic and paper money. 3. To draw.
4. The fruit of certain trees.
II. I. Appeases. 2. Hot and fiery. 3. Amusical term
signifying that all the singers or players are to perform
together. 4. To impede or bar. 5. The base of a frond.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below
another, the diagonals, beginning at the upper left-hand
letter and ending at the lower right-hand letter, will spell
a name given to Nicodemus Boffin.
I. A web-footed water-fowl. 2. A warehouse. 3. A
vegetable. 4. A pert, conceited fellow. 5. The fruit of

the blackthorn. 6. One related to another by any tie.
7. Part of a clock. 8. The harness of beasts of burden.
9. A torch. Io. A fish highly prized for food. II. The
cheven. 12. To look narrowly. 13. To throw with
the hand. 14. To discharge. 15. A thin piece of
marble having plane surfaces. 16. A large stove or
oven. C. L.

2 19
3 18
4 17
5 16
6 5

7 -.
8 .
9 .
to .

4 14

. 13

ACROSS: I, in health and happiness ; 2, 19, a conjunc-
tion; 3 to 18, a wry face; 4 to 17, the osprey; 5 to 16, a
tardigrade, edentate mammal; 6 to 15, a small quadruped
found in Madagascar; 7 to 14, a precious stone; 8 to 13,
the production of the tones of a chord in rapid succession,
and not simultaneously; 9 to 12, a book in which a sheet
is folded into twelve leaves; Io to II, supporting.
From I to Io, good places in which to pass Thanks-
giving; from in to 19, what one is sure to find at these


EACH of the twelve pictures in the above illustration
may be described by a word of nine letters. When these
are rightly guessed, and placed one below the other in
the order given, the letters indicated by figures in the
diagram from I to Io spell the name of an illustrious
American; from II to 18, another very famous Ameri-
can; from 19 to 25, an eminent English writer and the
maker of a dictionary; from 26 to 34, an Irish writer of
poems, stories, and essays; from 35 to 41, an English
author; from 42 to 46, the author of Tale of a Tub ;
from 47 to 50, the author of the Essay on Man" ; from
51 to 54, an eminent English historian; from 55 to 60,
another English historian; from 61 to 66, a celebrated
French romancer and dramatist; from 67 to 77, the
French author who wrote The Spirit of Laws "; from
78 to 85, the famous Frenchman who wrote Zaire."
c. M'C. R.
NAGIA eht vasele moce tingtrufle wound,
Swolly, nileslyt, noe yb eno,
Claters dan onscrim, nad glod adn wrobn,
Wingill ot flal, rof trihe krow si node.
Dan cone ainga socem het merday heaz,
Dinprag eht shill wiht sit mylif bule,
Nad vingile eht nus, woshe dretne sary
Wiht delmowel glith moce griminmesh hugtroh.
MY primals spell a royal personage, and my finals
a poet.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Decision. 2. Worthless. 3. An
inhabitant of any town. 4. The act of twisting. 5. Elo-
quence. 6. A name borne by certain kings of Egypt.
7. A character in the play of "Cymbeline." 8. To
impeach. H. L. B.
I AM composed of one hundred and fifteen letters, and
form a 83-66-110-71-16-55 from a poem addressed to a
3-90-85-35-7-58-29-73-98. The author, Mr. 36-53-
104-IOt-12-63, was born November 3, 1794, in 51-21-
81-9-96-93-61-15-5-18, which is in the New England
State whose name is abbreviated to 103-88-44-25. One
of the earliest of this writer's poems made him famous.
It was called 33-I-78-39-74-14-92-108-45-112-105,

and it is still 34 59 27 45 4v 04 oz zz oe
held in very 11 48 77 14 46 64 44 25 4
49-56-31-II4 5S 62 58 *. 6 41 72
esteem. An- 61 7& 74 7 60
other well- 7e 71 26 76 70 8a 57 .
known poem 79 g 15 8 69 8o
of his is called 81 8a 51 GE
84-32-24 23- 67 .6 68 .
70-6 79-34-
1oo 58-69-37-
He also translated the 64-99-22-101-40 and the 11-89-47
-109-25-68-50. Almost contemporary with this writer
were 6-60-o16-10-20-28-94-52-65-2 77-55-91-97-19-
51-46, who wrote Marco Bozzaris "; 41-17-57-113-6-
87-98-59-8-95, who wrote "Sandalphon "; and 73-62-
80-26-76-80-13-III, who wrote "44-93-15-3-36-15-
38-12-102." My 54-4-75-81-19 and 111-30-13 are two
plants mentioned by Shakespeare. My 67-82-72-17 is
a famous French writer, born in 1802.
I. A VOWEL. 2. A tone of the diatonic scale. 3. Part
of a skillet. 4. A lineage. 5. A small frame of wood
on which a fisherman keeps his line. 6. A series of
arches. 7. An enigma. 8. A chair. 9. The principal
church in a diocese. "XELIS."
I. A NOTED battle, England's boast;
2. An island on the English coast;
3. A Spartan general, brave and bold;
4. All victors wore in days of old;
5. A people, God's peculiar care;
6. A province lost to France, the fair;
7. A poet who can hours beguile;
8. The famous serpent of the Nile; "
9. A western State we next must name;
10. A general of lasting fame;
11. One of seven hills of great renown;
12. A name beloved in Concord town;
13. A Flemish painter known to fame,-
You '11 give, without delay, his name.
These initials place with care;
You '11 see a poet's name is there. M. E.




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