• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Fairy-land
 Prehistoric photography
 A year with dolly
 The conspirators
 Tom Paulding
 A tiger's head from Cabul
 A mortifying mistake
 How rangoon carried weight
 Tommy's school
 The sponge-man and the April...
 After Black Buck in India
 My troubadour
 At the musical
 Two girls and a boy
 May
 The ants that pushed on the...
 The admiral's caravan
 The telephone
 The disputed shinny match
 A safe vehicle
 Le petit marchand de sucre...
 Elizabeth
 When I was your age
 Laugh a little bit
 A case of highway robbery
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 Three little mice
 The letter box
 A few leaves from a boy's sketch...
 The riddle box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00255
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00255
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Page 482
    Fairy-land
        Page 483
    Prehistoric photography
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
    A year with dolly
        Page 490
    The conspirators
        Page 491
        Page 492
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
    Tom Paulding
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
    A tiger's head from Cabul
        Page 503
    A mortifying mistake
        Page 504
        Page 505
    How rangoon carried weight
        Page 506
        Page 507
        Page 508
        Page 509
    Tommy's school
        Page 510
    The sponge-man and the April shower
        Page 511
    After Black Buck in India
        Page 512
        Page 513
        Page 514
        Page 515
        Page 516
    My troubadour
        Page 517
    At the musical
        Page 517
    Two girls and a boy
        Page 518
        Page 519
        Page 520
        Page 521
        Page 522
        Page 523
        Page 524
        Page 525
    May
        Page 526
    The ants that pushed on the sky
        Page 527
        Page 528
        Page 529
        Page 530
    The admiral's caravan
        Page 531
        Page 532
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
        Page 536
    The telephone
        Page 537
    The disputed shinny match
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
        Page 541
    A safe vehicle
        Page 542
    Le petit marchand de sucre d'orge
        Page 543
    Elizabeth
        Page 543
        Page 544
    When I was your age
        Page 545
        Page 546
        Page 547
        Page 548
        Page 549
    Laugh a little bit
        Page 550
    A case of highway robbery
        Page 551
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 552
        Page 553
    Three little mice
        Page 554
    The letter box
        Page 555
        Page 556
        Page 557
    A few leaves from a boy's sketch book
        Page 558
    The riddle box
        Page 559
        Page 560
    Back Matter
        Page 562
    Back Cover
        Page 563
        Page 564
    Spine
        Page 565
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THE LITTLE CANDY-SELLER.

ENGRAVED FOR ST, NICHOLAS, BY PERMISSION, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY BRAUN OF THE PAINTING BY ACHILLEA FOULD.
(SEE STORY IN FRENCH, PAGE 543.)















ST. NICHOLAS.




VOL. XIX. MAY, 1892. No. 7.
Copyright, 1892, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



FAIRY-LAND.

By VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.

UNDER the branches they went together,
The blossoming branches that break the sky,
All in the morn of the young, sweet weather,
When softly the green on the hills doth lie;
And Dorothy thought it was over the meadow,
And Cicely said it was close by the spring,
But Polly was sure that the woodland's shadow
Sheltered that magical fairy ring.

So over the meadow they swiftly hied them,-
Oh, but the bird in the blue sang sweet!
They saw not the blush of the brier beside them,
The violets smiling beneath their feet.
Long by the spring they lingered and listened;
'T was a diadem set in a mossy rim,
And oh, the beauty that clustered and glistened
In frail ferns falling about its brim!

They sought in the wood for a wonder revealing,
And saw not the leaves in a net o'erhead.
Oh, but the song through the pine-tops stealing,
And oh, that hush down the dim ways shed!
Then, when the sun leaned lower to find them,
Homeward they wandered a sorrowful way,
And knew not the land they were leaving behind them,
The rare, new land of a young June day!

But Dorothy thinks it is over the meadow,
And Cicely says it is close by the spring;
While Polly is sure that the woodland's shadow
Shelters the magical fairy ring!
483










I E Pi A.RPC1


BY TuDOR JENKS.


AN old manuscript recently discovered by a
German professor seems to indicate a very early
origin for the photographic camera.
The original text is in Sanskrit, and the trans-
lation is faithful in all respects. The preamble,
as usual, recites the titles of the potentate who
figures in the story, and I omit most of it. The
first sentence, however, helps us to fix the date.
It runs thus: "In the period of rulers from
the land over the sea, when the ice-bridge
existed, in the times of the forefathers of the
ancestors of the forerunners; in the reign of
the great, wise, strongest-in-battle and swiftest-
in-retreat, the outrunner-of-the-chariots-of-the-
five-toed-horses, in the thirteenth period after
the slaying of the next-to-last toothed bird "-
and so on.
The references to the glacial period, to the
original form of the present horse, and to the
pterodactyl will convince any student of geol-
ogy that this document is perhaps the oldest in
existence. Indeed, the university has conferred
upon the professor a purple ribbon to wear on
Sunday in recognition of this remarkable dis-
covery. I will add only that the old papyrus
which contained the story was found with others
in a stone chest upheaved during an earthquake
in Asia Minor.
Thus runs the story:

Came rumors and sayings to the sharp ear of
the ruler, who gave orders to the swordbearer


and bowmen to betake them to the cave of the
image-maker, and, having laid hands upon him,
to walk him quickly to the ruler's house.
But he of the sword did shake in his sandal-
straps, and his hair did point skyward, while
his teeth tapped together; for the image-maker
was known to be a wizard and talker with the
winds. Before then no one had dared so much
as to throw a rock at the cave-dweller.
The ruler turned his eye upon the sword-
bearer and saw his fright. Yet the ruler said no
word, for he loved his people, and knew that
the wizard must be taken. Rather would he
have sent his whole army one by one to come
out no more from the darkness of the dread
cave than that harm should come to himself or
to his people, for he had the heart of a dinosau-
rus, one of the green kind. [Note: The profes-
sor insists this is right, but I think the adjective
plainly refers to the apteryx, which was of a
dusky emerald color when enraged.]
The swordbearer, having taken a damp fare-
well, gathered the bowmen and went toward
the rising sun; but his heart was cold. When
the fourth pinkness of dawning dyed the sky,
came black figures against the blue at the end-
ing of the earth where rises the world-lighter,
and before the gong for the morning meal had
thrice been rung to waken the sleep-loving-in-
the-morning ruler, the swordbearer came bring-
ing the wicked wizard.
The wizard carried a chest or coffer, black,






PREHISTORIC PHOTOGRAPHY.


and covered close with hide, but having a dull
eye at one end, and knobs and round trimmings,
wrought curiously and of strange magic and
witchery. [Note: Evidently the primitive cam-
era, with the usual buttons.]
When the day was strong, arose the ruler, and
ate half a zebra with trilobite sauce.
Then did I, his scribe, tell him humbly that
the wizard awaited him.
"Where is my spear and my sword? quoth
our ruler.
"Here," said the scribe, my poor self.
Put on my leather coat, bronze hat, and
leggings of scarlet leather, the finest in the king-
dom," quoth he, that the wizard and the war-
riors and the maidens may see me in all my
beauty, the strong war-ruler."
It was done, and never finer appeared the
man of muscle who carries the heaviest club.
Bring in the wizard," said Batta,-" who
is there that is afraid ? "
Then did my one knee exchange greetings
with its fellow, as I the scribe went forth. For
I was sore in terror, but Batta was not scared,
though he was pale from his long sleep.
Forth went I to the swordbearer, gave greet-
ing, and bade him bring in him-who-makes-
images.
So the wizard was brought into the light of
the presence of Batta, our ruler, who spoke
thus:
Well done, Swordbearer. You have caught
him, the bat who flies in darkness. Did he
scratch you ? "
"Not at all," answered he of the sword. "I
bade him vow by the sun that he would do me
no injury. And he said he would vow me by
the sun, the moon, the stars, or by whatsoever,
if only again I would not poke him with my
sword. So came he most quietly."
It was well done," quoth Batta. "There
is yet some zebra. Regale yourself. The sauce,
too, is good."
Then my ruler and I were left with the
wizard.
"It has come to my ear," spake Batta,
" that you live in a darksome cave beneath
the hill that is before the sun, and work witch-
craft, catching away my people's souls with thy
black box. What say you, 0 Wizard ?"


The wizard smiled, but his lips were of the
color of sand.
Batta," thus spake he, "I am but a
poor man. I gather simples, herbs in the woods.
I do cook them over the burning of sticks and
of the black-stone-which-burns-long. Thus do
I extract their strength, and therewith do that
which to common men seems strange."
But," said Batta, "all this is naught. What
of the box-the soul-catcher ? "
"It is but a picture-box," said the wizard.
"It is curiously wrought, and will do in a wink-
ing of your royal eyelid more than a cunning
worker in paint can do from dawn to dark."
But," again spoke Batta, that is witch-
craft."
"Nay, great ruler," replied the wizard, "it is
no witchcraft, and it harms no one."
"I fear me," said the ruler, making as he
spoke a sniffing with his nose, that there is the
smell of enchantment about thee."
Pardon, wise ruler," replied he of the box;
"that is but the odor of herb-extracts I use in
making images."
And the stains upon thy hands ? asked the
keen-eyed, the wise Batta.
"The same extracts," replied the wizard. "I
can hardly remove them, though I wash me
until I am weary with washing."
"You have a glib tongue," was the saying
of the ruler, but I fear me it is of two ends."
"Not so," answered the wizard; "there is
nothing of the black art in me. It is a simple
thing I do. See-" and he raised the box.
"Point it not at me!" spake Batta, rapidly.
"Try it on yon scribe, for if harm should befall
him there are more among my people."
Then would I have fled, but my legs sank
beneath me.
"Have no fear," said the wizard; I have
but to touch this little piece, and all is done,
without harm to any."
I know nothing of your box," said Batta,
and did lay chin upon his hand, like a coun-
selor; "but mayhap I had better drop thee and
thy box into the sea that rests not."
Then the wizard set down the magic chest,
and smote his breast. At last he spoke:
Great ruler," said he, "if you will give me
a few more risings and settings of the sun, and





PREHISTORIC PHOTOGRAPHY.


will send to my cave your scribe, I will show to
him all my art, so that he may make the picture-
flats, likewise. You know that he is no evil
worker, and he can tell you all my art. If not,
you will know that I am speaking with a false
tongue, and can throw me from the cliff down
where the waves roll white."
"'T is little risk," replied my ruler; a scribe
more or a scribe less does not count in the roll
of the fighting men. Take him, and work thy
wicked will upon him until the moon is a round




':,
*..


in front which gleamed like the fire-flashing fly
of the swamps in the early of the year. And
we ate of divers strange things. There were
two-shelled soft fish that he did fry until they
were toothsome. [Note: Perhaps a form of
the fried oyster.] And there were also the thin-
shelled sea-pinchers who go sidewise as doth
a maiden seeing a gnawer of grain.
Wearied by the walk, I slept till the birds
sang, and then rose to the meal of dawn.
Soon after, the wizard brought out his box,


"THE WIZARD SAID: 'I CAUGHT YOU WELL. I THINK IT WILL COME OUT GOOD.'


shield. Come then again, and thou shalt be
released or thrown into the sea which eats
boats."
Then went I on my knees to the great Batta,
trying with my tears to melt his heart. But
as.the drops from the wide-foot bird's back, so
rolled my tears from the heart of Batta, who
cared only for the good of his people.
So went I with the wizard to the cave to
learn of the picture-flats.
Midnight moonless was bright day to the light-
less gloom of that cavern. But there was a fire


and though I shrank in terror from it, he did
smile and encourage me till I put a finger upon
it. It bit me not, and I felt braver. But.a
scribe is not a warrior. His blood is but ink.
The wizard said:
Scribe, fear not. 'T is a box such as
holds thy styluses and reed-pens. But it has
curious bits of bronze and of rock-you-can-see-
through, whereby it makes pictures. Come, and
I will give you the knowing of it."
Then he did open it; and it was black inside
as a burnt stick, and had an eye in the fore part.


486






1892.] PREHISTORIC PHOTOGRAPHY. 487
He clicked at it with the forefinger, and did came a flat light-colored shell, four-cornered,
put in a flat piece like gray flint, and behold! and thin like scraped horn. This was dropped
a picture thereon, like unto the clear view of 'into an earthen dish which held some most ill-
mid-day, but smaller than the face in a baby's smelling compound. And he rocked the dish,
eye. It was most marvelous! He did also to and fro, smiling a ghastly smile,- such as is
twist a bit of bronze around and brought a fog the grin of the long shark in the water of the
upon the little picture, which, however, presently deep. But behold, the dark and the light took
cleared away as he did twist more. shape and became an image And if all the
[Note: Apparently the "wizard" was trying prophets and if all the counselors of the tribe
the focus upon what answered for the ground were to prophesy till the hair of all was gray
glass.] upon their shoulders, they could not have
Thus did he several times, and behold I grew divined what was the image which came forth
bold, and did the same under his direction! to mock me!
Then went we forth under the sky, and the It was my soul. For as I leaped in the air
wizard asked if I would throw up my hood to catch my hood, the wizard had caught my
and catch it again. In wonder at his silliness, soul from me and fixed it there within the
I nevertheless did that folly. And just then I awful black-box-which-has-an-eye! But I was
heard the clicking of the box, and the wizard changed so that my own dear mother would
said: not have known me. My face, paler than that
I caught you well. I think it will come out of the sun-burned warriors, was black like those
good." Thereat was I sore afraid of the men of the far south whose hair twists.
lest my foolish play with my My dark tunic was like the snow that flies in
hood had wrought witch-
ery upon me. I waited
to see what would
"come out." But
naught came forth,
nor did I see that he
had me caught, for
I had full freedom of
limbs as before.
He went into the
cave, and I followed
his footsteps. It was
dark therein; but when
he told me that I must
come, I went, though I
shook yet a little. "For,"
said I to myself, "even if I
escape the wizard by running the sky when men
forth, he, the mighty and swift-footed walk upon rivers and
Batta, will have me sure by the tunic." UNDER THE RED LIGHT. the flowers die. All
So I went. There was a little light was like nothing I ever saw.
burning there, but the wizard did forthwith blow Then did the wizard wash the flat piece in a
it out with the breath of his mouth, and did spring that came from the rock near at hand,
with a flint enkindle another light--a horrible and he did wash and wash again, until even the
light, the color of the crimson at sunset. Even weariness of the rocking was not so long. Then
yet with eyes shut I can see that witch-glow, did he soak the piece in another liquor in yet
There in the redness did he open his box, another dish, while I was faint with the long
draw forth a strange contrivance from which darkness.






PREHISTORIC PHOTOGRAPHY.


Gladly I saw the sunlight again, and heard
the birds chirp as if black caves were not.
More washing ? I asked; for it seemed that"
there would never be an end of the plashing of
water.
Only a little," said the wizard. He did fix
the flat piece next in a four-sided frame, and
cooked it in the sunshine, while I wondered if
he would desire me to eat my soul, baked in
the sun, for dinner!
But after he had baked the frame, he did
break it open, and then came more washing.
I thought that the wizard would wear out his
fingers with much plashing in the water.
I think that my eyelids must have shut me to
sleep for a while, but when I opened them there
stood the wizard, and in his hand he did hold
a picture wherein I was shown to leap like a
horse in fresh pasture, bounding after my hood
in the air with the fool-play I have told.
Thus saw I first the making of pictures, and
that day was like many that followed. Nay, I
did even make pictures myself with the wizard
to stand by and say; Do thou this," Do thou
so "; but of the witchcraft of it little did I know.
I was but as his hand or foot in doing his
bidding.
In all that we did the wizard feared the light.
For he said that the sun would steal away the
pictures-which seemed strange enough to me.
Meanwhile grew the moon, till it came round
like a shield, and we were to go to the ruler.
The last day I was with the wizard, I did make
two pictures by myself, and he did praise me
and gave me one wherein I did look too sweet,
like unto the coo-bird, and brave as the roarer is
brave before the bleater. This received I gladly,
for I knew not before how comely I was.
At sunrise did we set forth for the dwelling
of Batta, the sagacious-in-combat. The wiz-
ard carried the wonder-box. I did carry earth-
enware jars filled with liquids and compounds,
very heavy, and I did also carry many of the
flat pieces, each closed cunningly in a case like
a quiver.
When we came unto the town, Batta sat upon
his throne beneath a sun-shield.
"Aha! Wizard," he cried, then you have not
eaten our scribe ? 'T is as well, mayhap. Now,
has he learned your art?"


"In sooth, that has he," said the wizard,
cheerfully. "Will not you try him?"
"That I will," spake Batta. Go thou to
work, Scribe, and take three trials. Paint me
the picture of Batta Batta who puts foes to
flight! Three trials shall be thine, and then-"
So ceased Batta. But when the wizard tried
to go with me to the hut, Batta forbade him.
Then did I as I saw the wizard do ere he
took the box for making a picture, and forth I
sallied to do my best.
As I came forth, I pointed the box at the
great Batta, and I pushed upon the magic
piece, and hurried back to the hut, which had
been made dark save for the crimson light which
we brought from the cave. Here went I through
the washing. But no picture came!
Then strode I forth in sadness.
The wizard pointed an accusing finger at the
box, as I came out from the darkness of the hut,
and then knew I what I had done! I had not
uncovered the eye of the box!
Again I essayed, and fled into the hut, but
with careless hand did put the flat into the
wrong dish. And behold again no picture came 1
Then came I forth in sadness.
The wizard's face was like a dull day when
the leaves are falling. But when I again pointed
the magic-box, and opened its eye, and set in
the proper pieces with all due caution, he smiled
again.
With backward step, I betook myself for the
last time to the dark hut, and rocked and
washed and soaked and washed till I was
weary like unto the slaves that row the galley
of Batta.
And this time the picture came forth like sun-
shine after a rain; and it was Batta-Batta
upon his throne, and dressed as for war. Then
rushed I forth rejoicing with my prize, and the
wizard made merry.
Into the warm sun did I set the picture to
cook, and when I took,it forth it was so like to
Batta that I thought it would speak; and I
showed it to him proudly.
But, as the cloud comes over the face of the
sun, so descended wrath upon the black brows
of the great ruler as he gazed.
"Do I look like that?" cried he to the
wizard.


[MAY,







PREHISTORIC PHOTOGRAPHY.


It is your very image spoke up one of
the younger warriors.
You are banished for life 1" roared the just
and great ruler of his people. And it was so
from that day forth. "Do I look like that?"
he asked again, with the voice of a thunder-
peal, this time turning to the white-haired
counselor, he-who-speaks-little-but-wisely.
I would not be so foolish as to say it was
like you, great Batta answered the counselor;


And it was done upon that instant.
"It were best to send thee with thy tools!"
said Batta; and in a moment the wizard was
hurried to the brink of the cliff which hangs
over the playground of the waves-

Here the manuscript is torn, and it is impos-
sible to decipher it further. But I am sure that
the reader will agree with me in deciding that
it contains an early account of photography,


"'DO I LOOK LIKE THAT?' CRIED HE TO THE WIZARD."


and the rest who stood about said that his words
were wise.
"Your art is no art!" then said the great
Batta; and, calling the swordbearer, he or-
dered that the wizard's box should be thrown
into the sea, together with his vile compounds,
his dishes, the liquids, and his flat pieces and the
baleful red-fire maker.


and also that the conclusion, imperfect as it is,
would lead one to suppose that the art was
somewhat discouraged.
Those who desire to verify the translation will
find the original document among the archives
of the Grand Lama's Museum in Tibet. You
will find it at the back of the top shelf on the
left-hand side.


489







A ear with Doly


B3y (udara S. 'Bumstead,


Under the trees,in the loveliest place,
Where the shadow and sun were playing ,
Fanny and Lida and L6ttie and Grace
And )olly and I went main, ;
BJut the flowers were lost or hib'en away
So safe we could scarce find any -
So we made the Dolly Queen of the May
'Cause she would 'n need So many.
.l .
s .. ,', ; .; -! ''


We gathered moss fr a throne of green ,
And with violets blue we crowned her;
We played tat t she was a Tairy Queen,
And Qaily we danced around her.
A robin sang to us overhead.,
A squirrel capered and chattered ;-
Then a little gray mouse popped out of his bed,
And O how we jumped and scattered !












THE CONSPIRATORS.

By EMMA SHERWOOD CHESTER.


__ ri'

'^


THERE were
three of them,
-John, Helen,
and F'liciano,--
and as they laid
their heads to-
gether, in a glim-
mering corner of
the library, it was
clear to see that
F/ F'liciano was the
leading spirit of the
three.
And why not,
when his father
had lived and died by means of plots, and
F'liciano's very presence was but the result of
one ? Down in San Domingo, whence he came,
they used to have plots for breakfast, dinner,
and tea, and F'liciano had learned to make
them as cleverly -poor fellow !-as any of his
older companions.
Meanwhile, as we have said, the conspira-
tors laid their heads together, in a corner of
Mr. Stetson's library, and connived at a plan
which was to bring happiness to all concerned.
To understand the matter better, however, it
will be necessary to go back, and to relate how
F'liciano came to be in Mr. Stetson's library
at all, and why it was important that he should


devise a particularly clever plot just at this
period of his life.
He had been sent from San Domingo, Mr.
Stetson explained to the gentlemen of his ac-
quaintance, "for political reasons"; and this
phrase was about as clear to F'liciano as if Mr.
Stetson had quoted a line of Greek poetry in
his hearing. All that he really knew or cared
about was that he had come away in an ocean
steamer, with the captain of which he had been
great friends, and that he was now established
in a charming home, with John and Helen
Stetson for playmates and critics.
F'liciano, alas! had much to learn of the
world. His pretty jacket of gold-laced velvet,
all out at the elbows, would have been worn
with a gay indifference had not Helen at once
pronounced it shockingly untidy," and taken
it to her mother to mend. But the quaint
bronze tint it was impossible to match, and F'li-
ciano went about with neat little squares of a
different color placed over the holes instead.
These were a source of unending amusement
to him, for patches were things unknown in his
former estate. To be fringed and tattered,
provided there was plenty of tinsel in the
wreck, was his natural condition; so that to
reform into what you call net [neat]," he told
Helen, was comical indeed.
He had a way, too, of flinging his hands in
the air when he talked, and of permitting his
pretty soft voice to mount higher and higher-
"just the same," John objected, "when he 's
talking about shoe-strings as if it was about
pictures or birds."
But with all his odd manners, John and Helen
had learned to esteem him so highly that
when Mr. Stetson announced at the breakfast-
table one morning that F'liciano's uncle had
sent for him, and that he was to return to San
Domingo by the next steamer, there was a cry
of sorrow and dismay.






THE CONSPIRATORS.


F'liciano only, of the three, continued to eat
his orange with composure. That his uncle
had sent for him was one thing, but that he
should go was quite another, he silently rea-
soned. "My uncle," he said to Helen, who
was crying over her porridge, "have sent for
me. Well, you no need to cry. Come in the
liberry after breakfast I tell you an' Juan
about that plan of mine."
Mr. Stetson, who had grown as callous to
F'liciano's "plans as to his other peculiarities,
gave little heed to the announcement of a new
one, and continued to read the morning paper,
indifferent to the movements of the trio, who
now proceeded to the library, at F'liciano's nod.
"My uncle," he said, seating himself in an
embrasure, and drawing the curtains well over
John and Helen, to enhance the air of secrecy,
"he don' love me no more than he loves that
stone carriage-block out there. No, sir; he don'
love me no more than that. Why he sent for
me? Jus' because he very proud man. Some-
body said to him, Your nephew F'liciano mus'
live in the house of his relations; he mus' no
more be the charity of Mr. Stetson.' An' then
my uncle he turns red in the face, an' sends for
me to come to San Domingo. Now, mus' I go
'way-abandon you an' Juan-jus' because
my uncle he is so proud? Well, no!"
F'liciano fondled the neat little patches on
his elbows, and continued: "You know, Helen,
I had a birthday las' week. It was my twelve
birthday. Now, when a man is so ol' as twelve,
he can do 'mos' anything, he can be very useful.
Mr. Stetson he don' know how useful I can be.
When it is hot, I can stan' by his chair, an'
wave the flies from annoying him; an' when it
is col', I can take his coffee to him in bed."
American John thrust his hands in his pock-
ets, and whistled. My father never takes cof-
fee in bed," he remarked.
"Of cawse," said F'liciano, blandly; for the
reason no person gives it to him. Now that is
what I should do."
He 'd rather have a pitcher of hot water to
shave with," persisted John. But F'liciano was
firm. He had drawn up his plot at the break-
fast-table, and that he should divulge it at all to
John and Helen was a favor; that they should
cavil at it was monstrous.


On the following morning Mr. Stetson was
aroused by a sharp rap on his door, and upon his
bidding his visitor come in, F'liciano entered,
bearing upon a silver tray coffee in a cup in-
scribed FOR BABY," in solid gilt letters. This
he presented to Mr. Stetson with a bow and
the salutation, Good-mornin', Mr. Stetson. I
hope you fin' that coffee delicious."
"Why, what 's all this? cried Mr. Stet-
son, springing out of bed, and working himself
vigorously into his dressing-gown. I 'm not ill.
I '11 be down to breakfast presently. Who sent
you up with that thing?"
No person sent me," said F'liciano, reproach-
fully; "it was jus' a little thought of mine.
Some peoples like to be useful."
"Oh,- ah,- very good of you, I 'm sure,
F'liciano," stammered Mr. Stetson, completely
bewildered as to the meaning of this sudden
"little thought." He seated himself, on the
edge of a chair and good-naturedly swallowed
the coffee; so that F'liciano retired smiling, sat-
isfied that, in one direction at least, he had made
himself indispensable to Mr. Stetson.
When that gentleman came into the hall, he
found his hat polished to the smoothness of a
mirror and the lining of his coat turned care-
fully to the steam-heater. There was a spray
of chrysanthemums in the lapel of the coat, and
his cane leaned conveniently against the sleeve.
F'liciano held the knob of the door in his hand,
and the slippery steps had been sprinkled with
sawdust.
Mr. Stetson was amazed. It was like a royal
progress. He should expect to find roses and
camelias strewn upon the pavements, and
wreaths hung on his office doors.
F'liciano, having obsequiously closed the door,
ran to John and Helen. "The labo' of this day,"
he declared, "will certainly show Mr. Stetson
the value of me. He will write to my uncle,
' Your nephew F'liciano is so useful that I would
not for the whole world' spare him. I implore
you to let me keep him in my house."'
"Did my father drink that coffee in bed? "
asked John.
Not exactly in bed," replied F'liciano,
gravely, "but seated on a chair. He could
hardly express his gratitude to me."
"And what shall you do next ? inquired


492


[MAY,






THE CONSPIRATORS.


John, who never liked the least hitch or delay
in a performance of interest. There 's all day
before you, and you can't go to his office. He
does n't like little boys to come there." John
felt obliged to give F'liciano the benefit of his
experience.
F'liciano tossed his head. "Why, see here,
Juan, it would n't do for peoples to be too use-
ful. Momin's and evening's an' church days
they are enough. You could never dream,
Helen, what I have to surprise Mr. Stetson with
pleasure this evening' "; saying which, he drew
from his pocket a much-
befingered card. "Be-
hold that! Read the -- l \
contents of it!"
Helen read the head-
ing: "FAREWELL PER-
FORMANCE OF BUFFALO
BILL," with all the small '
type attached.
"That," announced
F'liciano, "is to confront "'
him when he unfolds his '
napkin at dinner. Con-
ceive his delight! It is
bought an' paid money
for. All he has to do is
to go."
There were wander-
ing doubts in the minds
of John and Helen as
to the success of F'lici-
ano's plan to please their father; but after a
short consultation they wisely determined to
keep silent until there should be a better occa-
sion to speak.
John confided to Helen on the stairs, "F'lici-
ano has queer ideas. I don't believe papa would
fancy Buffalo Bill. Besides, he and mama have
tickets for the opera that same evening. Would
you tell F'liciano ?"
No," said Helen, who somehow had a con-
viction that F'liciano's plot would in the end
find its way to her father's heart, even through
such absurdities as Buffalo Bill and coffee in bed.
" No, I think we 'd better just let F'liciano do
whatever comes into his head. Of course papa
will think it is all very strange,- F'liciano is so
odd,- but by and by he will discover what it


means, and I think it will end in F'liciano's
staying all winter."
When Mr. Stetson came home that evening,
the hall door flew open as if by magic, and
F'liciano's dusky little figure outlined itself
against the homelike glow within.
Good-evenin', Mr. Stetson," he said. "I
have the pleasure to take your hat an' coat."
Mr. Stetson submitted dumbly. "An'," con-
tinued F'liciano, flitting before him to the dining-
room, dinner is served."
Mr. Stetson said grace, and unfolded his nap-


F'LICIANO DEFENDS HIS PLOT.


kin, when out fell the grimy card: FAREWELL
PERFORMANCE OF BUFFALO BILL."
F'liciano's dark face beamed. I hope you
fin' that performance delightful, Mr. Stetson.
'Farewell'-you observe it is your las' oppor-
tunity."
Like most foreigners, F'liciano mastered large
words more readily than small ones.
Mr. Stetson's bewilderment it was impossible
to conceal, but an imploring look from John,
which said, "Wait until after dinner, and I '11
tell you," restrained him from then and there
butchering, though quite by accident, F'lici-
ano's sensitive feelings.
You see," John explained later, "it's a lit-
tle plot, and you must n't let him know that
you don't like it. F'liciano wants dreadfully


493






THE CONSPIRATORS.


to stay here. From what he says, that uncle
of his is a stuck-up old muff, and he hates San
Domingo. He says he would n't go back


and I '11 take ten cents, instead of a quarter, a
week to spend. Will you ?"
Mr. Stetson put his arm around John's


" GOOD-EVENIN', MR. STETSON,' HE SAID. 'I HAVE THE PLEASURE TO TAKE YOUR HAT AN' COAT.'"


there if they were to give him all the negroes
-he said niggers-on the island. He wants
to stay here and live with us, and Helen and I
wish you would let him. He thought that if
he should make himself useful to you, perhaps
you could n't spare him; and he bought that
ticket to Buffalo Bill' with his own money.
He has n't any father and mother, you know,
and since he stopped smoking those cigarettes
I don't know but he 's as good as an Ameri-
can. F'liciano thinks of lots of things,-about
people's dropping things, or sitting in drafts, or
not being comfortable,-and he makes very
good bows. Helen and I like him first-rate.
If you '11 let him stay, he can sleep in my bed;


"Norfolk" jacket, and looked preternaturally
solemn. "But what about the uncle, if he
should object ? "
"Why, you must write and ask him-'im-
plore' him, F'liciano said-to let F'liciano stay
in your house, because he is so useful. Be-
sides, Helen and I are learning Spanish of him.
I can say, 'I1 sabio,--il sabio,'--I forget the
rest of it,-and I think it would be a real ad-
vantage to Helen and me if he should stay."
"And you are quite sure that you learn no
harm from him? Mr. Stetson asked.
Why, Papa," said John, seriously, F'liciano
is an uncommonly good boy. Besides, you can
see for yourself how obliging he is."






THE CONSPIRATORS.


495


For a week Mr. Stetson suffered silently un-
der the little Spaniard's various attempts at
being useful," which grew more and more in-
defatigable as the time drew near for the next
steamer to sail for San Domingo. It was scan-
dalous, this drinking coffee in bed every morn-
ing, and being waited upon like an Oriental
potentate; but, not to offend poor F'liciano,
he endured it for a time.
Then he sent a cable-despatch to the uncle:
"Your nephew invaluable. Part with him only
if you insist."
Word came back: "Sefior Domingues has
the honor to submit the services of his nephew
F'liciano to Seior Stetson," with no word left out
for economy; and with this gracious document
still in his hand, Mr. Stetson called F'liciano
to him.
"You have shown me your desire to be of
service to me," he said; and I am convinced,
F'liciano, that you will try to give me no
trouble. You need not bring my coffee to my


room any more-I prefer to get up; and you
need not spend any more money on ribbons
and flowers for me. I am assured of your gen-
erosity and of your goodness of heart. And
now, as your uncle has given his consent to
your staying with us, I shall only ask that you
continue to be the truthful and good-natured
boy you have shown yourself to be heretofore."
F'liciano burst into unexpected tears.
"I had a fear, Mr. Stetson," he sobbed,
"that you did not like me being useful; an'
that Buffalo Bill, I fin' his card in the ash-box.
But oh, Mr. Stetson, I '11 be jus' the bes' boy
ever live', if you '11 tell my uncle you can't get
along without me! "
Mr. Stetson found, in time, that it was indeed
so; for, with a better knowledge of American
wants, the warm-hearted little Spaniard soon
discovered more gratifying methods of being
"useful," as he called it, to his friends, and his
really honest, generous nature soon won for him
the affectionate esteem of the household.


A MAY PARTY.


1892.]











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

BY BRANDER MATTHEWS.


[Begtn in the November number.
CHAPTER XII.
THE FATE OF JEFFREY KERR.
NCLE DICK look-
ed at Tom for a
moment. Then he
whistled gently.
"If you have
found out that,
then you have the
finest Christmas
present of us all."
"Ithink I have,"
Tom declared.
"I 'm very glad to hear it," his uncle re-
sponded heartily. Now, sit down here and
tell me all about it."
Tom took a chair and
sat down beside Mr.
Rapallo.
"I think I know where
the thief is," the boy
began, "and I hope I
know where the gold is;
though, of course, I 'm
not sure. After all, it '
is only a guess, but
still-"
"If you express all
your doubts before you
let me have all the
facts," interrupted Uncle
Dick, "it will be a long
time before I can see
what you are driving
at. Better begin at the
beginning." .
"The real beginning," W
Tom answered, "was
when I got to looking
at this mystery just as if "' THINK
4


it was a problem in algebra. Jeffrey Kerr was
my x. He was n't exactly an unknown quan-
tity, but there was a lot about him I did n't
know. I set down the facts, and then tried to
work out my x-that is, to see what had become
of Kerr. If what my grandfather had found
out and written down was right, then the thief
had vanished suddenly after he had got past the
sentries of Washington's army. Now, this morn-
ing when I was waking up I found that I was
thinking about this problem, just as if I had
been at work on it in my sleep, puzzling it out
in a dream. I was still half asleep when I
found that one thought kept on coming back
and coming back. And I suppose that thought
was the present Santa Claus had brought me
during the night, as you said he would."


4
K'~'.~ /
- ~ A


KNOW WHERE THE THIEF IS, THE BOY BEGAN."
96


" `I


""






TOM PAULDING.


I did n't say that he would, for sure," said
Mr. Rapallo. I hoped that perhaps he might.
What was it that he told you ? "
It seems so simple," Tom continued, that
I don't see how I ever came to miss seeing it
for so long."
"The greatest ideas are generally the sim-
plest," Uncle Dick remarked, encouragingly.
"You remember that little egg trick of Co-
lumbus's?"
And it never seemed to me quite fair either,"
Tom returned, "because-"
Don't let's discuss that now," his uncle
interposed. "What was your new idea ? "
Well," Tom went on, I found myself think-
ing that as Kerr had left the American army,
and as he had n't got to the British army, and
as he had n't ever been seen anywhere since
that night, or heard of by anybody,- why, per-
haps the shot the sentinel had fired at him had
wounded him badly you remember my great-
grandfather's account said there was a cry of
pain after that second shot?"
"I remember," said Uncle Dick.
"And if the shot had wounded him badly,"
Tom continued, "that perhaps he had fallen
dead somewhere between the lines, and that
perhaps somehow his body had got covered
over or concealed or something of that sort,
and so it might perhaps be there now."
"I understand," Mr. Rapallo remarked, as
Tom paused for a moment to see if his uncle
were following him. If the body was hidden
then, there is no reason why it might not be
there to this day. But where can it be hidden ?
That will be a difficult question to solve."
Tom smiled cheerfully. Well," he said, of
course I don't know that I 've found out that,
certain sure; but I 've got another idea about
that, too."
Produce idea number two! ordered Uncle
Dick.
As soon as I had really got hold of the first
idea-the one that possibly Kerr was wounded
by that shot and that his body might be there
now I waked right up," Tom responded;
"and it was when I was wide awake that I
wondered where we could look for Kerr's body,
with the gold on it, perhaps. Suddenly it struck
me that as Kerr was trying to escape to the
VOL. XIX.-32.


British, and as he knew the country,-he 'd
been living up near here at an old mill for
months before,- why, he 'd naturally try some
kind of a short cut. There was a little brook
separating those two camps, and it had been
raining hard all day,- I looked at the old
newspaper to make sure of that, but I believe
it nearly always does rain hard after there 's
been a battle,- and so I thought the brook
would be high, and Kerr was smart enough to
know that it would be, and so perhaps he 'd
make for those stepping-stones. You remem-
ber, I once showed them to you marked on the
map my great-grand-father made ?"
"Yes, I remember," Mr. Rapallo replied;
"and I think I see where you are going. I
should n't wonder if you were on the right
track at last."
Tom's eyes lighted again with pleasure as he
continued:
"I got out that map, and I looked to see
if it would help me. Well, the place is marked
where the first sentry stood that fired at Kerr,
and then the place is marked where the second
sentry stood when he fired; so I drew a line from
one to the other, and I thought that would show
which way Kerr was going. Then I stretched
out that line toward the British troops to see
where he would cross the brook; and I found
that if he had kept on the same way he started,
then he was running straight for those stepping-
stones which my great-grandfather had marked
in his plan."
And supposing you are right ? Uncle Dick
queried.
"Supposing I 'm right," Tom responded, "and
supposing he was badly wounded, perhaps
when he got to those stepping-stones and tried
to cross, he slipped and fell in. You see the
brook was up, and maybe the water was over
the top of some of those stones. It was a very
dark night, and he was running for his life, and
perhaps he slipped and fell into the pool."
"Well ?" said Mr. Rapallo.
"Well, if he did," Tom went on-"if he did
fall, and he was wounded, and the current was
strong, and he had all that heavy gold weighing
him down, perhaps he was drowned there."
"If that happened," Uncle Dick inquired,
" why was n't the body found next day ? "


497






TOM PAULDING.


I thought," Tom suggested, "that perhaps
the strength of the current might have rolled
the body into the deepest part of the pool, and
then the sand and dirt and things which the
brook was carrying down would be caught by
the body; and perhaps there would be enough
of them to cover it up completely. And if
there was, why, then perhaps the gold is there
now."
"With the skeleton of the thief guarding it
for you," said Mr. Rapallo.
What do you think about this idea ? Tom
asked anxiously.
"I think," his uncle replied, "that you are
probably right. I see that your story has a
'perhaps' in almost every sentence. Perhaps
the man was wounded, perhaps he tried to cross
at the stepping-stones, perhaps he slipped, per-
haps he was drowned partly by the weight of
the guineas he had stolen, perhaps the brook
washed down sand and earth enough to cover
him, and perhaps nobody has ever found him.
Here are perhapses enough and to spare, you
must admit."
As his uncle paused, Tom's face fell. This
did not seem so cordial an acquiescence as he
had hoped for.
But your theory at least fits all the facts as
we know them," said Mr. Rapallo, cheerfully.
" It seems to me excellent as a working hypoth-
esis,' so to speak. At least it may very well
explain the mystery of Kerr's disappearance.
And if I were you I should go ahead on this
line, and fight it out if it takes all winter."
"Will you help me? asked Tom, eagerly.
"Of course I will," his uncle responded
heartily. Whatever I can do, I will. First
of all, have you any idea where the current
would have taken the body of the thief?"
Yes," Tom answered quickly; I think I
know at least I 've been guessing at it. On
the map the pool is shaped somewhat like a
figure eight, with the stepping-stones at the
middle in the narrow part, and with the lower
end swung on one side in a sort of bay; and
the brook goes on out of one corner of this
sort of bay. Now, it seems to me that if Kerr
slipped off the stepping-stones, he probably
rolled to the middle of this lower pool- and
that he is there now."


"Do you think that any one else has found
his body?" asked Uncle Dick.
No," said Tom. "At least I think nobody
has ever thought of digging there. The brook
has dried up only since they began to open the
streets through here. I showed you where the
stepping-stones are, and the little pool just be-
low them is still to be traced out-at least I can
do it now I 've seen the map. The trouble is
that the pool is in a vacant block which they
have begun to fill in. The lots are 'way down
below the level of the street. They 've done
some filling in, and they are going to do more
soon. I went there to see it just now, and I
think I could see the edge of the pool distinctly.
But the part where I guessed the guineas were
has been filled in twenty feet at least."
Does a street run across it ? Mr. Rapallo
inquired. "Foolish people used to think that
the streets of great cities were paved with gold;
and it would be curious if there were really
treasure hidden down below their surfaces."
"This is n't a street," Tom explained; "it 's
just the ordinary filling in, with rubbish and
dirt and old brickbats and ashes and things.
It starts about the middle of the block and
makes a sort of bow-window into the middle
of the vacant lots."
Then how are you going to get out the
golden guineas ?" asked Uncle Dick.
"That's just what I don't know," Tom an-
swered. I 'm counting on you to help me out
there."
"I 've-mined for gold in California, and for
silver in the Black Hills, and for diamonds in
South Africa," Mr. Rapallo replied with an
amused smile; "but I never supposed that I
should sink a shaft in the streets of New York
in search of buried treasure. It will be a novel
experience, at any rate. But we must see what
we can do. This afternoon, if you will take me
over to the place where the pool was, I '11 have
a look around."
Tom arose to go. When he had opened 'the
door he hesitated and then said: "If you don't
mind, Uncle Dick, I 'd rather we did n't say
anything about this 'working hypothesis' until
we know whether it will work or not."
Certainly not," Mr. Rapallo replied. It is
always best to say nothing till you have some-


498


[MAY,






TOM PAULDING.


thing to show. When in doubt, hold your
tongue'-there's a good motto."
Then he came out into the hall to Tom, and
they went down-stairs together to their Christ-
mas breakfast.

CHAPTER XIII.
CHRISTMAS MORNING AND CHRISTMAS NIGHT.
N Mrs. Paulding's
family it was the
tradition to keep
cChristmas and to
make presents; but
the moderate cir-
cumstances of the
household prevent-
ed the purchase of
costly gifts. Nor
was the preparation of presents made by the
giver allowed to become burdensome. There
are homes where the pressure of Christmas
giving has crushed out the proper Christmas
feeling,- where the obligation is accepted of
providing every other member of the house-
hold with a present which is often useless and
which is always expensive. Nothing of this
sort was seen at Mrs. Paulding's fireside. With
gentle tact she found out early in the fall what
were the cherished desires of her children; and,
in so far as her means might allow, she gratified
these at Christmas. They in turn consulted each
other and saved up their pocket-money that
they might give her something likely to be
useful.
On this Christmas morning there was the
added interest of Uncle Dick's being in the
house. Just what to give him had greatly puz-
zled Tom and Polly, but they had at last hit
upon things they thought their uncle would
welcome. Polly made him a "housewife" to
contain needles and thread and buttons 'and
tapes, and a tiny pair of scissors.
She explained to Tom that if Uncle Dick
ever went back to South Africa, or even out
West again among those Indians, she thought
the needles and the other accompanying tools
of woman's craft might be very useful.
If the real Africans," she said, are anything
like the pictures in my jog., I don't believe that


Uncle Dick could find one of them to do his
sewing for him. They can't have had much
practice in making buttonholes. If those pic-
tures are right, then I should n't wonder if there
was n't a single sewing-machine in all South
Africa. So, you see, he might have to mend
his own clothes some day and sew on buttons.
Of course he's only a man and he would n't do
it well; but, all the same, I think he ought not
to go away again without needle and thread."
Mr. Rapallo had told them that he never
knew how long he would be able to stay with
them. He might, at any time, be called away
suddenly; and if he once went, he could not
guess when he should get back.
Tom had borne in mind this possibility of his
uncle's traveling, and he had gone over to Cissy
Smith's, whose father had given him a lathe the
year before; and with Cissy's assistance Tom
had turned a box large enough to hold a few of
the indispensable effects of a traveler.
When Tom and his uncle came down that
Christmas morning, they found Mrs. Paulding
and Pauline waiting for them at the breakfast-
table; and the presents were placed at the plate
of each member of the household.
Mrs. Paulding was always pleased with what
her children gave her; and she had interpreted
their desires so sympathetically that they were
sure to be delighted with her presents to them.
Uncle Dick thanked Pauline for the house-
wife and Tom for the box.
"What do you suppose I have for you? he
asked. Perhaps he had noticed a slight sha-
dow of disappointment on their faces when they
failed to find by their plates any gift from him.
"I don't know," said Tom, interested in the
presents in spite of his excitement over his
" working hypothesis" as to the whereabouts of
the stolen guineas.
"But I 'm sure it will be simply lovely,"
volunteered Pauline.
"Well," said Uncle Dick, for a long while
I could not find out what any of you wanted;
but at last I heard Polly say that she wished
she was rich enough to buy her mother a sew-
ing-machine, because there were so many things
she wanted to make for herself. So I have got
a sewing-machine for Polly; it is now up-stairs
in her room."


499


1892.]






TOM PAULDING.


Oh, Uncle!" cried Polly. Thank you ever
so much! and she jumped from her chair and
ran around and kissed him.
And one day," Uncle Dick resumed, when
Tom and I were walking by the water, I heard
him say that he wished he had a telescope to
look up and down the stream. Now, a telescope
is not so useful as a field-glass; and if Tom
will look under his chair he will find a field-
glass through which he can see a good many
miles up the Hudson."
After Tom had thanked him, Mr. Rapallo
turned to his sister and said, "The present I
hoped to have for you, Mary, is not ready yet.
I may have it by New Year's -and I may have
to go after it. But I think you will like it when
you get it, and-"
"I am sure I shall, Richard," was Mrs.
Paulding's response.
"And until you do get it," Uncle Dick con-
tinued, "I sha'n't tell you anything at all about
it."
"But-" Polly began, with a keen disappoint-
ment depicted in her face.
"But," her uncle interrupted, "you will have
to possess your soul in patience, for I shall not
give you a hint about it until you see it."
"An' quite right, too," said the Brilliant Con-
versationalist, who was bringing in the buck-
wheat cakes. "The child may be sure that
whatever you buy, Mr. Richard, will be beauti-
ful. See what I found in me kitchen this morn-
in' "; and she produced a pair of rather startling
ear-rings that Uncle Dick had bought for her.
After breakfast they all went to church; and
after dinner Uncle Dick called Tom and took
him off for a walk.
"I want you to show me the place where you
think Jeffrey Kerr lies buried, with the gold
he stole from your great-grandfather concealed
about his skeleton," he said as they started out.
Tom led him straight to the vacant lots, into
which from about the middle of the block a
tongue of made land projected.
"There 's where the stepping-stones were, ac-
cording to this map," said Tom, as he handed
the paper to his uncle. "That big boulder
there used to be one of them, I think; and as
far as I can make out, those two other high
rocks over there belonged to them, too."


It took Mr. Rapallo but a short time to
familiarize himself with the ground before him
and to identify it with that sketched out in the
rough but fairly accurate map which he held
in his hand. As yet there was hardly a house
within two or three blocks on either side; and
in one of the adjoining blocks also, below the
street-level, it was not difficult to trace the course
of the brook, partly by the stones and partly by
the stumps of the broken willows which had
lined its banks here and there. The outline
of the pool below the stepping-stones was less
easy to make out, but at last Mr. Rapallo and
Tom were able to identify its limits to their
satisfaction.
"Where do you think the deep part of the
pool was? asked Uncle Dick.
Here," said Tom, as he pointed to a stone
which projected a little from the edge of the
peninsula of filled land. "I think that is the
tip of a tall rock marked in the map; and if it
is, then the deep part of the pool was just
behind that."
"That is to say," his uncle rejoined, "if the
body of Jeffrey Kerr is here at all, it is buried
somewhere near the base of that stone ? "
"Yes," Tom answered; don't you think so ?"
"I think your enthusiasm is catching," Uncle
Dick replied; "and now I am here on the spot,
I begin to believe that the stolen gold is down
there somewhere, almost under our feet. By the
way, how far down do you suppose it is ? "
"I 've been thinking about that," Tom re-
turned, "and I believe that the skeleton must
be several feet below the level of the bottom of
the old pool, as it is now-perhaps only a foot
or so, and perhaps three or four."
"And the part of the pool near the rock there
is buried under at least ten feet of dirt, ashes,
and all sorts of builder's rubbish. It won't be
easy for us to excavate this to prospect for that
gold."
"Suppose we go down and look at it," Tom
suggested.
His uncle started down the steep incline and
the boy followed. At the point where the rock
stood, the level of the lot was fully twenty feet be-
low the surface of the street; and farther down,
nearer the river, it sloped away still deeper. In
the hollows here and there the snow lingered,


500


[MAY,






TOM PA


dry and harsh beneath their feet. The ground
was frozen hard.
"There is no use in our trying to do anything
here until there is a thaw," Mr. Rapallo de-
clared. "In fact, I think that it will be best
to postpone our serious effort to excavate until
spring."
"And when spring comes will you be here,
Uncle Dick?" Tom asked eagerly.
"That 's more than I can say, Tom," he an-
swered. "It depends well, it depends on
many things."
"And in spring how are we going to dig out
all that dirt?" Tom inquired.
"I don't know how we shall do it," Mr.
Rapallo replied. But you will find a way out
of that difficulty, I 'm sure. What I wonder
about is whether we shall be able to get per-
mission to dig here."
"Shall we have to ask leave? cried Tom in
great surprise.
"It is n't our land, is it?" answered his
uncle.
"But it is our money," Tom urged in re-
sponse.
Mr. Rapallo smiled. "The money is yours,
no doubt," he said; but it will be best for you
to get the right to see if it is buried here."
"And suppose we can't get it? Tom de-
manded.
"We '11 discuss that when the permission is
refused. Don't cross the stream till you get
there. In the mean time I '11 look up the owner
of this land -"
"But I don't know who owns it," said Tom.
"I can find out all about it, down-town
to-morrow; and that 's the first thing to do. It
is our duty at least to try to get permission to
enter on another man's land. As you grow
older, Tom, you will find that the short cut is
the straight way; in morals as in geometry, the
straight line is the shortest distance between
two points.''
That evening, when they were finishing their
supper, there came a sudden clang of bells and
the rattling rush of a fire-engine.
"There 's a fire! cried Tom, with an appeal-
ing look at his mother. Tom had the Ameri-
can boy's intense fondness for going to see
fires; but his mother did not like to have him


ULDING. 501

run after the engine at night, as many other lads
were allowed to do.
"I pity the poor people whose house it is! "
said Mrs. Paulding, not replying to Tom's
glance of appeal.
"It's a long while since I have seen a fire
here," Uncle Dick remarked, rising from the
table. I think I shall go and take a look at it.
Would you like to come, too, Tom?"
"Would n't I just?" Tom replied, as the
hose-carriage rattled past the house in hot pur-
suit of its engine. May I go, mother ? "
Let him come with me," said Uncle Dick.
I '1 keep guard over him, and I'11 return him
right side up with care."
"Wrap yourself up well, Tom," said his
mother.
"I wish I was a boy and could go to fires,"
declared Pauline. "When I 'm grown up I
shall live next door to an engine-house, and
I '11 make friends with the firemen, and when
there 's a great, big fire, I '11 get them to let me
ride on the engine."
As Uncle Dick and Tom were leaving the
house, Mr. Rapallo turned back and said to his
sister :
Mary, don't be uneasy about this boy, and
don't sit up for him. If there 's anything to
see, I shall not hurryback, and Tom will stay
with me."
It was lucky that Mrs. Paulding had thus
been warned, as her brother and her son re-
turned to the house long after midnight.
By the fiery track of the glowing sparks
which the engine had left behind it, Mr. Ra-
pallo and Tom were able to go direct to the
conflagration, one of the largest ever seen on
that part of Manhattan Island. The fire had
begun, no one knew how, in a new warehouse,
which had recently been completed at the
water's edge, between the railroad and a nar-
row wharf built out into the river. This building,
half filled with combustible goods, was blazing
fiercely when Uncle Dick and Tom came out
at the upper end of the Riverside Park, where
they could look down into the fiery furnace on
the bank of the frozen river below.
Tom found Cissy Smith standing there with
his father; and while Dr. Smith and Mr. Ra-
pallo renewed their acquaintance, broken off






TOM PAULDING.


since Uncle Dick had last been in Denver, five
years before, Cissy greeted Tom heartily.
"That 's a bully old fire, is n't it?" he cried.
"It 's the biggest I 've ever seen," Tom
responded.


carrying the flames toward the tall piles of
planks, scattering sparks over the neighboring
houses, and freezing the water almost as it left
the nozles of the hose. Despite the intense heat
of the burning building, long icicles began to


UNCLE DICK AND TOM GO TO THE FIRE.


From the first the firemen seemed hopeless of
saving the warehouse where the fire had started,
for the flames had gained full control over it
before a single engine was able to throw a
stream on it. There was difficulty in getting
water, as more than one hydrant was frozen
solid; it took precious time to thaw them out
by building bonfires all over them. The center
of the river was still open and the ice inshore
was not so thick that a resolute steamboat could
not crush through it. Soon after Tom and Cissy
had taken their places to see the spectacle, a
fire-boat came up the river and forced its way
through the ice till it stopped almost alongside
the burning building. Leaving this boat to at-
tend to the warehouse, the firemen ashore turned
their attention chiefly to preventing the spread
of the conflagration. There was a lumber-yard,
piled high with boards and planks, within a
hundred feet of the blazing storehouse, and the
saving of this was a work of great difficulty.
The labor of-the firemen was made doubly
severe by a chill wind which blew up the river,


descend from every projecting plank in the yard,
and the firemen were soon clad in a frozen coat
of mail, stiff and crackling as the wearers went
about their work.
While the two boys were standing there on
the hilltop, enjoying the magnificent spectacle,
with no thought of the cost at which it was pro-
vided, and accepting it as a sort of unexpected
and superior Fourth-of-July celebration, Cork-
screw Lott came twisting up the hill toward
them, as fast as his high boots would carry him.
As he drew near it seemed to Tom that Lott
was taller than ever.
"He 's getting on for six feet," said Tom,
involuntarily.
"'Ill weeds grow apace,'" returned Cissy;
"at least that 's what my father says."
"I say, Cissy," cried Lott, approaching hastily.
"where 's your father?"
"He 's here," Cissy answered. "What 's the
matter?"
"They want the doctor quick, down at little
Jimmy Wigger's aunt's," Lott replied.


502


[MAY,






TOM PAULDING.


"Who's hurt?" Tom asked.
"It's little Jimmy himself," Lott responded.
"His aunt sent him out on an errand, and he
did n't look sharp, and one of the engines came
around a corner and ran over him, and they
think he 's broken something inside."
Cissy told his father, and under Corkscrew's
guidance Dr. Smith and his son went off to the
house of little Jimmy's aunt.
Tom and Uncle Dick stood watching the fire
that was leaping higher than ever, in despite of
the long curves of water which spent themselves
in vain in their attack on it. The steam from
the engines rose white in the night air, and the
ruddy glare of the fire colored the arching lines
of water that the steamboat poured into the
burning building.
"There 's a sort of likeness in this operation,"
:said Uncle Dick, "to hydraulic mining. At


Monotony Dam, in California, I have seen a
bigger stream than all those put together; and,
when the full head of water was turned on, it
would eat into the side of a hill and wash out
the pay-gravel by the ton."
Tom, being greatly interested by this remark,
was about to ask for an explanation of the
methods of hydraulic mining, when his uncle
turned to him suddenly.
"Tom," he said hastily,. "come to think of it,
that 's the way you may get at that buried
treasure of yours."
"How?" asked Tom.
"We '11 turn on a stream of water and wash
the guineas out of that bank of rubbish. I 've
done a good many odd things in my life, first
and last, but I confess it will be a novel experi-
ence to try hydraulic mining for gold right here
in the streets of New York "


(To be continued.)


TV


By THOMAS P. HUGHES, D. D.


I OT long ago a little
B W / >- .. GermanboyinPrus-
sia was making a collection of rare postage-
stamps, but had failed to obtain any of those
queer-looking stamps of Afghanistan, with a
tiger's head roughly outlined upon them, known
as the Cabul stamps of the reign of Shere Ali.


Ameer Shere Ali was the first to introduce post-
age-stamps in the city of Cabul, and when he
was dethroned by the British in 1879, a quantity
of these stamps were seized by Sir Louis Cavag-
nari who was English Resident at the court of
Ameer Yakoob Khan. Cavagnari was slain in
the same year, and Yakoob Khan was sent a







A TIGER'S HEAD FROM CABUL.


state prisoner to India, where he was intrusted to
the care of an English officer; and Cabul stamps
of the reign of Shere Ali became rare. Only
a limited number came into the European and
American markets, and the little German boy of
whom we write found it impossible to procure
them in Berlin. At last he determined to write
to the ex-Ameer Yakoob Khan, who he had
heard was a tender-hearted man, and fond of
children.
The German boy's letter to him may be
translated as follows:

Your Majesty, I am a little German boy, and am
making a collection of stamps. I wish very much to
procure -some stamps of your Majesty's kingdom, and
shall be very much obliged if your Majesty would send
me some.

The letter reached Bombay in due time and
was despatched by railway to Saharanpoor,
where the letter-bag was placed on the back
of an Indian coolie and carried up the hills to
Massourie, which is a hill-station of the Hima-
layas, some 6000 feet above the level of the
sea. Here the ex-Ameer Yakoob Khan was be-
ing carefully and comfortably lodged in charge
of an English officer.
Yakoob Khan does not know German, but
the "little boy's" letter was translated by the
interpreter into Pushto, or the Afghan tongue.


The ex-Ameer was pleased by the letter, and
a selection of Cabul stamps was sent by an
early mail, with a letter written by the English
officer, explaining that his Highness the ex-
Ameer of Cabul had great pleasure in comply-
ing with the request of a good little German
boy, as he had heard of the greatness of the
German people.
In due course the British officer received the
following reply:
Kind English Officer: The stamps which you have so
kindly sent me have arrived, and are much valued by me
in my collection. I showed them, and your letter, to a
distinguished German officer who is staying at my father's
house, and he is so pleased with the kindness of an Eng-
lish officer to a little German boy that I asked him to
give me his photograph to send to you, which he has
done, and he hopes you will accept it.
To the surprise and pleasure of the English
officer, the photograph inclosed was that of
the Commander-in-Chief of the German Army,
and the autograph written under it was "VON
MOLTKE, Field-marshal."
Upon inquiry it appeared that the "little Ger-
man boy" was the son of a great German man-
ufacturer, whose name is well known in Prussia
as one who has provided benevolent institutions
for workmen. His father was entertaining Field-
marshal Von Moltke at his house when the Cabul
stamps sent by the English officer arrived.


A MORTIFYING MISTAKE.

By ANNA M. PRATT.


I STUDIED my tables over and over, and back-
ward and forward, too;
But I could n't remember six times nine, and
I did n't know what to do,
Till sister told me to play with my doll and
not to bother my head.
"If you call her Fifty-four' for a while, you '11
learn it by heart," she said.

So I took my favorite, Mary Ann (though I
thought 't was a dreadful shame
To give such a perfectly lovely child such a
perfectly horrid name),


And I called her my dear little 'Fifty-Four'
a hundred times, till I knew
The answer of six times nine as well as the
answer of two times two.

Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, who always
acts so proud,
Said, "Six times nine is fifty-two," and I
nearly laughed aloud!
But I wished I had n't when teacher said,
Now, Dorothy, tell if you can,"
For I thought of my doll and-sakes alive!-
I answered Mary Ann / "


504














































































EASTER MORNING.












HOW RANGOON CARRIED WEIGHT.

By E. VINTON BLAKE.


THIS was in Popocar-
ina. Whatthenarme
means, I don't
know; they
haveinMexico
and in Lower
California
some names
curious enough
I to Northern ears.
All the rest of
our party had gone by the more northern route
through the Santanta Pass. My companion,
Will Grant, had said to me, "You just come
round with me through Popocarina Valley, and
I '11 show you a queer thing." Being ques-
tioned as to what manner of thing it might be,
he merely laughed and declared that I would
find out soon enough.
But instead of viewing this curiosity, we got
ourselves into a singular and dangerous situation.
Popocarina is picturesque enough, lying below
as one rides down the rough, precipitous moun-
tain road. The one street is irregular, and the
low, square-built adobe houses nestle among
peach-, plum-, and mango-trees, bananas, and
little patches of corn and wheat. On the way
to it, however, the cactus reached thorny arms
at us as we rode; the prickly-pear blossoms, red
here and there, and the yucca and aloes were
scattered about.
"Pretty enough from here," said Grant, with
a new slant to his one-sided hat, as he traced
with his eye the silver ribbon of the river that,
flowing under the solid old stone arches, cuts
Popocarina in two.
"Oh, you don't think the beauty holds out
on a nearer view ? said I.
Grant shook his head.
"You 've been here before, it seems," said I.
"Of course I have," he answered, "for my
own benefit, and now I 'm a-comin' for yours."


"You 're very kind," said I, laughing, "but
when I have found out what you mean to show
me, I '11 appreciate your kindness better. Is it
a work of nature or art ? "
Grant looked a little puzzled.
I told you there war n't much beauty in the
place anyhow; too much rubbish-too much
pulque."
Pulque is a kind of Mexican brandy.
"Well," said I, "that, I am sorry to say, is a
common fault in these parts."
In due time we brought up at the inn. No-
body seemed about; we led our horses into
the lonely grass-grown court, to drink at the
fountain.
A door creaked; and then appeared an old
Mexican woman, who mumbled out a saluta-
tion, stepped back, and closed the door behind
her.
"There's hospitality," said I, and we both
laughed. "Tell me, is there no other inn in
this wretched place ? "
"Keep cool, keep cool. You have n't seen
the last of 'em yet," responded my friend.
Indeed, in three minutes, Sefior the pro-
prietor bustled into the court, profuse in wel-
comes and apologies.
Our horses were taken, and we were ushered
into a long bare hall with very dirty stone seats
ranged along the sides.
We wanted dinner.
"What would the gentlemen be pleased to
order?"
"Got any mutton? said Will Grant.
"Unfortunately, no, sefor! The rascals of
soldiers have left me no single sheep of all my
flock. Otherwise-"
Got any beef? "
"Alas, no, senior! The soldiers- and again
he repeated his plaint.
"See here, sefor," said I, breaking in, "just
scurry around and see if you can't discover






HOW RANGOON CARRIED WEIGHT.


some fowl or other, somewhere. I want a
substantial meal."
Senor the innkeeper looked dubious, but said
he would try; and, at last, he succeeded.
We had just finished our dinner, when a
stir took place outside. Horses tramped, men
talked and laughed; there was the jingle and
clash of military accoutrements. Senor the
innkeeper turned actually green with appre-
hension.
"The knaves of soldiers, senior, they have
come back. They will leave me nothing," he
whispered in passing. No one knows what
mischief may be done while they are about."
"We 'd better be on our guard, Will," said I
in a low voice.
"Ten, twenty, twenty-five," counted Will,
glancing through the open door. "All of 'em
well mounted, and all been a-takin' too much
pulque-or something else. I wish we were
five miles away."
I wished so, too. I called the Spaniard, paid
him our reckoning, and he showed us quietly
out by a long paved passage-way to the corral,
where we quickly flung the saddles on our
horses.
"How are we to get out without going
through the middle of them ? I asked the
innkeeper.
"Seior, there is no other way. They are
noisy and quarrelsome. The lieutenant had
trouble with some Americans the other day, and
as he had the worst of it, hates the whole nation
in consequence."
That's a bad lookout for us, then," said Will
in English to me.
Just then, and before we could mount, about
a dozen soldiers came riding helter-skelter into
the corral, shouting vociferously and abusively
for Seiior Panca; and all concealment was out
of the question. They came to a dead, silent
stop, and the lieutenant's black, beady eyes
twinkled ominously. He flung a sharp ques-
tion or two at the innkeeper as to who we
were, and then addressed us in broken English,
supposing us to be ignorant of his language.
We were willing he should think so.
You aire -Americain, meester? he began,
turning to me.
"I am," said I.


"Vere iss-your name ? "
"Rafael Ransom, of New York," said I.
"And yours, meester ? to my comrade.
"William Grant," was the concise reply.
The lieutenant seemed to meditate. Then
the whole band, who had gathered about, broke
in with threats and suggestions.
"R-r-rascally Americanos! "Tumble 'em
into the river! "Toss 'em over the cliff!"
and so on.
We stood quietly by our horses. To make
any show of fear or resistance would be unsafe,
to say the least. The men were all more or
less tipsy, and six or eight of them hung about
the entrance of the corral. Rangoon threw
up his head, sniffed the air, and looked slowly
around. By some keen intuitive instinct he
knew-brave fellow!-that danger threatened.
The lieutenant looked keenly at him.
"A vary fine horse, meester," said he, his
black eyes twinkling. He took the bridle
roughly from my hand, and tried to lead the
horse along a few steps.
Now, Rangoon had never owned allegiance
to any human being but myself. I had con-
quered and trained him, and he loved me.
He resented the familiarity of this stranger,
threw his head loftily into the air, and refused
to budge. He laid one quivering ear back for
a word from me; one big bright eye turned
sidewise to look at me. The lieutenant vented
his vexation in a jerk at the reins, and a
threatening and abusive word. He raised his
foot for a kick.
Rangoon saw and understood that gesture.
In an instant he stood straight up, restless fore
feet pawing the air, and ears laid furiously close
to his head. The little, undersized lieutenant
was swung clean off his feet, and, losing his
hold, landed in an ignominious heap three yards
away. A murmur of astonishment ran through
the soldiers.
Rangoon came down on all fours with a crash,
and stood still, furious but awaiting my word.
Oh! that was a horse worth having. I shall
never see his like again.
Then a raging dispute forthwith commenced
among the soldiers. Their lieutenant, being an-
gry, was for venting his rage on us. His men
wished for some sport first. They got to com-






HOW RANGOON CARRIED WEIGHT.


paring horses they had taken away Will's
gray-and disputing as to their relative speed.
The lieutenant rode a fine animal, and he de-
clared that the big rascal of a chestnut-mean-
ing Rangoon-was inferior to his.
His men disagreed. A race a race, senior
lieutenant! The road is smooth; the distance
to Cabanho is not great; let us make trial of
the ungainly American horse! "


RANGOON AND THE LIEUTENANT.
The lieutenant agreed, and the band, still
keeping watch on us, hurried out to the road.
There they fell into a new dispute. There
were seven other horses besides Will's gray which
they proposed to match against Rangoon. But
who should ride Rangoon?
"I will not ride the beast," grumbled the
lieutenant; "let Carlos try."
Carlos tried. A big, black-haired, powerful
fellow was Carlos. Carlos got into the saddle;
Rangoon's heels flew up as if moved by spring-
power, and Carlos shot forward into the sand.
A shout went up.
Three men made futile endeavors to mount.
One got a severe kick for his pains; another's
arm was nipped by Rangoon's teeth; the third
was unable to get anywhere near the saddle, for
the wily horse changed his tactics, and whirled
around as on a pivot, keeping his head to the
luckless aspirant.
I saw a chance of escape by this time.


The lieutenant cast a dissatisfied glance at me.
I heard him say in Spanish:
"The tricky Americano must ride his own
horse, it seems. But stay! he shall not escape.
Let the horse carry double. Carlos shall ride
behind him "
This was accounted a happy thought, and was
heartily applauded by his band of noisy troopers.
Meester Rainsome," said the lieutenant, with
an ugly twinkle, "you will haf pleasir to ride
your horse in a race. Carlos will to ride- a-
wis you, lest you haf not to part company wis
us. You see?"
I see," said I, laughing. For when I once
sat Rangoon's powerful back, I had the game
in my own hands..
But leave Will Grant, who sat composedly
chewing a straw by the wall? No, indeed!
This is how I managed.
I mounted. Rangoon gave a restless snort,
but stood like a statue, with listening ears, while
Carlos got up behind me. Just a pressure of
my hand on Rangoon's left shoulder, and up
went his heels, while Carlos and I rolled quietly


hr

RANGOON AND CARLOS.
over his head. Or, rather, I rolled quietly-
expecting it, you see. But Carlos, whose cra-
nium was severely shaken by the shock, got up
in a rage, vowing and declaring that no earthly


508


[MAY,






HOW RANGOON CARRIED WEIGHT.


power should induce him to mount the abomi-
nable American brute again.
How? said the lieutenant to me. "Your
horse will not carree your own zelf? "
"It was that other fellow," said I, composedly,
brushing off the dust, and remounting.
" Rangoon can't abide strangers.
Put my friend on behind me,
and perhaps he '11 do better."
Not if I know it! "-
said Grant, with a
great show of in-


ear. The next instant the word was given, and
with a crash of hoofs the nine horses were off.
There was no question about it there were
fearful odds against Rangoon. Will Grant
weighed certainly a hundred and fifty; I tipped


"THE LIEUTENANT'S ROAN AND RANGOON WERE NECK AND NECK."


dignation. "I 've no call to break my head,
as that other chap has done, to please a parcel
of idiots! "
The lieutenant eyed us suspiciously, but Will
played his part well. The lieutenant's men
clamored for the race.
Finally, to guard against the possibility of our
escape, two mounted men were sent on toward
Cabanho to guard the end of our route, and the
other contestants got ready.
Grumbling to himself, as loath to make the
experiment, Will climbed slowly up behind me,
pretending great anxiety at Rangoon's every
start and movement. Under cover of the noise
and discussion he shot a sharp whisper over my
shoulder:
Can he do it? "
"I think so," I answered. Rangoon stood
motionless as I tightened the rein. "Ready,
boy, ready!" I muttered into his back-bent


the beam at perhaps ten pounds less. For the
first few minutes, six of the nine kept up pretty
well. Then they scattered. I was holding in
my brave horse; the severest test was to come
shortly, and I wanted to be ready. The lieu-
tenant rode a fine roan; he was the only
opponent worth speaking of.
The golden sunset was slanting across the
blue Sierras; but already the valley was cool
and shady with coming night. Across the old
stone bridge thundered the horses, the lieuten-
ant's roan and Rangoon neck and neck now,
the rest far in the rear. The Spaniard's eyes
flashed suspiciously at me-he made a mena-
cing gesture. No time to lose; just ahead I
saw the two troopers waiting near a sharp bend
of the road.
With a rapid turn of the wrist I reined Ran-
goon diagonally across the lieutenant's course;
the quick-witted animal understood in a flash.


509






HOW RANGOON CARRIED WEIGHT.


Strike, sir, strike I hissed into his ear.
With one leap Rangoon plunged violently
against the side of the lieutenant's roan. There
was a struggle of hoofs, a cloud of dust, a vol-
ley of abuse in Spanish from the discomfited
lieutenant, as the roan lost his balance and was
knocked completely over by the sudden and
unexpected attack.
I flung loose the rein on my horse's neck
then, and encouraged him by word and hand.
Will Grant, behind me, prepared for an en-
counter with the two troopers just ahead. But
there was no need. The amazed and befogged
soldiers really regarded the furious, flying horse
as possessed of an evil spirit, and made no effort
to stop us as we rode. The evening air swept
our faces; trees, bushes, rocks fled by and van-


ished in the dim light, like the phantoms of a
vision.
Level neck, back-laid ear, muscles springy as
steel- I felt the tireless power of his stride,
heard the rapid, monotonous beating of Ran-
goon's hoofs all along the lonely road. The
way was clear; my brave horse had again saved
his master.
Better slack a bit," said Grant after a while;
"we're out of all danger now." So we finished
our journey leisurely.
"Will," said I at last, "was that race what
you were going to show me at Popocarina ?"
"No, it war n't," he answered glumly. "But
it's too late now-we 've gone by it."
And to this day I never have been able to
find out what "it" was.


TOMMY'S SCHOOL.

BY GERTRUDE MORTON.

"GEOGRAPHY'S a nuisance, and arithmetic's a bore!"
Said Tommy, with a frown upon his face.
" I hate the sight of grammars, and my Latin makes me roar;
It 's always sure to get me in disgrace.
When I 'm a man," he added, as he threw his school-books down,
"I'll have a school that boys will think is fine!
They need not know an adjective or adverb from a noun,
Nor whether Cesar bridged the Po or Rhine.

" I don't care if they think that George the Third was King of Spain,
When those old fogies lived so long ago.
Or if they all should answer that .the Volga is in Maine,
What difference would it make, I 'd like to know ?
But instead of useless things, I '11 teach 'em how to coast and skate;
They all shall learn to row and sail a boat,
And how to fire a pistol, and to shoot a rifle straight,
And how to swim, and how to dive and float.

" We '11 play at tennis and at cricket all the livelong day;
And then there 's polo, and-Oh, yes, foot-ball;
And base-ball they shall every single one learn how to play,
For that's the most important thing of all.
I tell you," finished Thomas, I '11 have one of just that kind;
Then all the boys, you see, will want to go.
They will not run away and say my school 's an awful grind,'
Or call the lessons dull and hard, I know."


510









THE SPONGE-MAN AND THE APRIL SHOWER.










I' /.















I. I

1. 11I


111. Iv.


"4,'"


I~











AFTER BLACK BUCK IN INDIA.

By CLARENCE B. MOORE.


ARRY," said Mr.
Vance to his son
one morning, "I
have, as you know,
large interests in
Bombay. Certain
matters require
some one in whom I have ab-
solute confidence to represent
me there. I see no reason why
you should not be the one. In
all probability, you will some
day have to take my place in
business matters, and the sooner
you make a beginning the better I shall be
pleased."
Harry eagerly accepted his father's proposi-
tion; and a month was spent mainly in read-
ing books on India. Though already quite
proficient, practice with a rifle came in for its
share of time; for, as Mr. Vance said, "You
will surely be asked out for some blackbuck
shooting, and I want you to do me credit in
whatever you attempt in India, whether it be
business or sport."
When it was nearly time for Harry's de-
parture, Mr. Vance called him into his study
one evening, and gave his son ample directions
to guide him as to the matters of business which
called him to India. And as to preparations,
Harry," he concluded, "you need buy no cloth-
ing here, except two thin suits of clothes to wear
while on the Red Sea, everything else necessary
can be had in Bombay. You may take my
' express-rifle' that I have often used in India;
as you know, it is double-barreled and comes
up to the shoulder like a shot-gun."
"To shoot tigers ? asked Harry.
"You will see no tigers," said his father.
"They are by no means so plentiful as people
imagine, and when one is heard of, the slaying
of it is considered the peculiar privilege of some


raja, English Resident, or army officer of high
rank."
"English Resident? "
"You have heard of the whisper that moves
the throne'? Well, at the courts of the maha-
rajas, rajas, gaikwars, and raos, as they call va-
rious native rulers, dwell members of the British
government, who really control the government
of their hosts."
How many lacs of rupees' shall I need ?"
said Harry.
Not many," said his father, smiling.
"How much is a lac ? "
"One hundred thousand rupees; the rupee
being nominally worth about thirty-five cents."
Whew! a lac is really quite a sum of money !"
"Yes," said Mr. Vance; and a crore is a
hundred lacs."
In due time Harry sailed for Liverpool, and
after a few days on the continent, he took the
steamer for Alexandria. On board was a Major
Barton, Political Resident at the court of the
Rao of Cutch, and he and Harry soon became
fast friends. He was an old tiger-shooter, and
told Harry of many thrilling escapes which he
had had in the jungle. You have to be quick,"
said the Major; for the tiger looks like a blaze
of yellow light when he comes. In the north
they shoot them from elephants, but in the
Madras district hunters go into the jungle on
foot."
"Well," said Harry, "I think I would begin
on the elephant and work down, rather than
begin on foot and work up."
"You may well say so," said Major Barton.
"I have hunted leopards on foot, and I don't
care for any more of it. Upon one occasion
I slightly wounded one, and hastily retreated up
a high rock. The beast charged after me, but,
missing me in the blind fury of its desperate
leap, fell over the other side and was crushed to
death."






AFTER BLACK BUCK IN INDIA.


"That was close," said Harry. "I fancy you
were glad to get off. I suppose you use rifles
for big game out there ? "
No," answered Major Barton, "rifles are
rarely used to kill tigers. In nearly every
case the weapon is a double-barreled shot-gun,
without choke,'*, carrying a heavy round ball.
Nearly all tigers are killed running, and at very
close range, and the time to aim is very limited.
When an old tiger-shooter speaks of his rifle,'
he always refers to a shot-gun."


grown, is of inky blackness on the back, while
the belly is as white as snow; the contrast being
very striking. The horns are black and spiral
in shape, and in length average about eighteen
inches, although they have been known to reach
twenty-six inches. The animals are usually found
in herds, and are difficult to approach on foot,
as the bucks toss their heads into the air from
time to time in a very graceful manner, and
some one of them is almost sure to detect any
attempt at stalking. They are at times hunted


ti-w kin a A -k-, -_-


-/ ,- -. ,, -' .



"LOOKING WHERE THE GUIDE POINTED, HARRY SAW FORTY OR FIFTY BUCKS AND DOES FREDING." (SEE PAGE 514.)


"I am so eager to get at the black buck,"
said Harry, : that I can hardly wait. My father
has given me letters to a friend at Moortizapoor,
in the Central Provinces, and I expect to shoot
some down there. Would you mind telling me
something about them, Major Barton?"
Not at all," said the Major, lighting his
pipe. You will find the black buck is a very
graceful animal, weighing between thirty and
fifty pounds. The hide of the male, when full-


on horseback, but the usual method in many sec-
tions is to use a conveyance very much like the
back of a horse, only shorter, and made of wood.
This is on wheels, is drawn by bullocks, and is
called a jungle-cart. It is very close to the
ground, and from both sides project flat pieces
of wood, upon which the feet rest. The inside
is hollow and holds ammunition and luncheon.
It is believed that they take the queer little
wooden arrangement on wheels for a plow, and


* A gradual lessening of the diameter of the barrel, beginning near the breech and continuing toward the
muzzle. This tends to bunch the shot and to increase the distance which they will go. A
bullet encountering this choke would probably burst the gun.
VOL. XIX.-33.






AFTER BLACK BUCK IN INDIA.


consequently are not much alarmed as it draws
nearer them in ever-decreasing circles. The bul-
locks move at the word of command, and are
accompanied by a shikaree, or native hunter.
The bucks never seem to fear the inhabitants,
doubtless having learned they are without guns,
and therefore not to be dreaded.
"There! said the Major, "I have delivered
quite a lecture on the subject, and if I say any
more you will be asking me to-what is that
slang phrase you have in the States ? "
Hire a hall? suggested Harry.
"That 's it," said the Major, "hire a hall."
I would be only too glad," said Harry, "to
hire a small hall, and hear you talk all night
about tigers, leopards, and black buck."
Upon arriving at Bombay, Harry delivered
his letters of introduction, and took up his
quarters at the Bombay Club, which has cool
and comfortable rooms for members and for
their guests. He found awaiting him a letter
from Mr. Cotgrave, his father's friend at Moor-
tizapoor, inviting him down at his earliest con-
venience to "have a try" at the black buck;
and after two weeks, having arranged his
father's business affairs, he accepted Mr. Cot-
grave's kind invitation.
After an all-night journey he arrived at
Moortizapoor, and was grieved to find that his
host was confined to his bed. Mr. Cotgrave had
been thrown from his horse while "pig-stick-
ing the day before. Pig-sticking" is a rather
dangerous sport, and consists in chasing the
wild boar on horseback.
Mr. Cotgrave, however, was not seriously
injured; and, seated in a large cane reclin-
ing-chair (so common in India and so very
comfortable), warmly welcomed his guest. The
bungalow where he lived was very commo-
dious; although a bachelor, he employed
twenty-two servants, including two sices, or
grooms, and two shikarees or huntsmen. Wages,
though apparently very low in India, are not
low considering the number of servants required
to attend to duties which would be done by
one servant in America or England.
The next morning, after breakfast, Harry
started out in search of the buck. His jungle-
cart was drawn by two bullocks, snowy-white,
and trained to advance or to halt at the word


of command, while a shikaree accompanied him
on foot. Harry was very nervous; he had
heard of "buck fever," the nervous panic that
prevents a man from firing at his first deer, and
he dreaded an attack of the malady.
They had been out hardly an hour, when he
espied, about two hundred yards away, what he
knew to be a black buck. Unfortunately the
animal saw the hunters at the same instant, and
speedily disappeared.
After another hour without seeing game,
Harry was beginning to feel a little discouraged
(for black buck are very abundant'at Moortiza-
poor), when he was startled by a sudden excla-
mation from his guide. Looking where the
guide pointed, Harry saw forty or fifty bucks
and does feeding, about two hundred yards
away!
Harry's heart beat fast. Guided by the shi-
karee, who kept the cart between himself and
the game, the hunters slowly circled nearer and
nearer. The bucks continually tossed their
spiral horns and looked at them, but apparently
suspected no trouble. When at a distance of
about eighty yards, the shikaree halted the bul-
locks, and Harry saw that the time had come.
Slowly rising until he stood upright, with his
feet supported by the boards on the sides of the
jungle-cart, Harry leveled his express and, tak-
ing deliberate aim at the shoulder of a fine buck,
pulled the trigger. The herd leaped high into
the air and then rushed helter-skelter away.
With a gnawing feeling at the heart he fired
again, and saw the ball raise the dust a yard or
two short of them as they ran. He threw down
his rifle, bitterly disappointed. Turning to the
shikaree, determined to quit the scene of his dis-
appointment and disgrace, Harry pointed toward
home, and uttered the single word," Bungalow!"
The huntsman seemed rather surprised, and,
taking him by the arm, endeavored to lead him
toward the former location of the herd; but
poor Harry again sadly turned toward home.
The shikaree seemed more puzzled than ever.
At length, seeing the native so persistent,
Harry accompanied the shikaree to the place
he indicated, and there, quite dead, lay a fine fat
buck. Harry's shot was clever enough to de-
light the young hunter, and taking a rupee from
his pocket, he handed it to the shikaree. In-


514






AFTER BLACK BUCK IN INDIA.


stantly his companion fell upon his knees, and
began kissing the dust from Harry's feet. The
young American, unaccustomed to such pro-
ceedings, speedily concluded that he had the
worth of his rupee, and motioned to the native
to rise. Tying the buck to the wagon, they
returned home, where Harry, as proud as a king,
was warmly congratulated by his host.
That evening Mr. Cotgrave told him a num-
ber of amusing stories about the inhabitants.
Upon one occasion he had been out shooting
snipe, and had fired in the direction of some


" WAITING UNTIL A LARGE


This time no coin was dropped into the
upturned palm, but, by Mr. Cotgrave's orders,
two shikarees lifted the "remains" and carried
them to the large tent belonging to the party,
no great distance away. Once there, they con-
structed a bier consisting of boards supported
by kegs. Upon this they laid the body, and
around it arranged lighted candles, which they
slyly moved nearer and nearer, until, the heat
becoming unendurable, the dead man" with
a yell sprang to his feet, rushed through the
entrance of the tent, and was seen no more.


iPi

A AA
.g ., .. .. ,.. -..-




BUCK WAS IN MID-AIR, HARRY RAISED HIS RIFLE AND FIRED." (SEE PAGE 516.)


natives who were at work in a field two or three
gunshots away. Immediately there arose loud
cries, He is dead He is dead Approach-
ing them, Mr. Cotgrave and his friends found
a man lying motionless upon his back with arms
extended and hands relaxed. When they put
a rupee into one of the upturned palms, the
man's fingers closed upon it, and a moment or
two later the prostrate man rose to his feet.
The party of Europeans moved away, but were
presently recalled by the cry, "He is dead
again Winking to his companions, Mr. Cot-
grave returned, and found the same man lying
on his back as before.


Harry laughed heartily at this incident, as
did Mr. Cotgrave, who spoke of it as one of
the most ludicrous events of his Indian ex-
perience.
The next morning Harry went out again, and
when about two miles from the bungalow suc-
ceeded in missing a fine buck which was feed-
ing apparently alone.
Chagrined but not discouraged, he kept on,
and toward afternoon saw another solitary buck
standing on the side of a hill. The hillside
was entirely covered with some cultivated plant
about two feet high. The animal, more timid
from being alone, started to run; when bang!"


1892.]






AFTER BLACK BUCK IN INDIA.


went Harry's rifle, and "ping!" went the ball
into the mass of vegetation. With loud shouts
and screams, fully fifty natives, who had been
squatting upon the ground using their little
short-handled hoes, rose to their feet! For-
tunately no one was hurt, and, this time, neither
did any one play possum."
Harry and his companion speedily followed
in the direction taken by the buck, and as
they mounted a small eminence were fortunate
enough again to see it standing. The animal
bounded away; but, overtaken by Harry's bul-
let, it staggered, plunged forward and fell head-
long. Then, recovering itself, it leaped to its
feet and continued on its course. A second
time Harry fired, and the buck dropped to the
ground.
Harry was a proud boy indeed that night at
dinner, when Mr. Cotgrave warmly congratu-
lated him upon his marksmanship.
The following morning Harry again sallied
forth; and, when only four or five miles from
the bungalow, came to a nullah (dry water-
course), upon one side of which, far away to
the right, he saw feeding the largest herd of
black bucks and does which he had yet come
upon. The shikaree motioned to him to de-
scend from the jungle-cart and to creep down
the nullah toward the feeding herd.
Rifle in hand, he cautiously approached the
animals. While yet considerably out of rifle-
shot, the herd, alarmed by something behind
them, ran toward the nullah in a long line. One
at a time, leaping high in air, the bucks and does
began crossing to the other side, where, continu-
ing their rapid course, they were speedily lost
to view. Waiting until a large buck was in mid-
air, Harry raised his rifle and, aiming ahead of
the animal, fired. The effect was instantaneous.
While yet high above the ground, the legs of
the buck fell limp and at full length, the head
dropped, and for an instant the body hung
quite dead in the air! Then it fell heavily to
the earth. The rest of the herd still continued


* Luncheon.


their flying leaps. Taking deliberate aim, Harry
fired the second barrel. This time his target
landed safely on the other side, disappearing
with the rest; and by the time the rifle was
reloaded, the herd had completed the passage
of the nullah. At dinner that evening, Mr. Cot-
grave was much interested in hearing Harry's
account of his good fortune, and it really seemed
as if the genial Englishman took more pleasure
in the success of his young guest than if he
himself had bagged the game.
What size horns did you get to-day ? he
asked.
Nineteen inches," answered Harry. "How
long do they grow ?"
"Not much over twenty-two, around here;
but up at Jeypore, in Rajpootana, I have heard
of horns twenty-six inches in length. I got a
day's shooting there once, in the preserves of
the raja; and, being requested not to kill over
three bucks in a day, I passed by one after
another, waiting to encounter horns of extraor-
dinary size. After about two o'clock I never
got even a glimpse of one. The black bucks
know how to use their horns to advantage.
In some parts of India antelopes are hunted
with cheetahs, which resemble leopards, and
are said to be the connecting link between dog
and cat. Now, when a cheetah gets hold of a
black buck by mistake, he is very likely to let
him go again after receiving a couple of sharp
prods from his horns."
After Harry had passed ten days with his
kind host, with varied success (on the last day
but one killing three bucks before tiffin*), he
felt that he ought no longer to postpone his
return. Before his departure he warmly thanked
Mr. Cotgrave for his kindness.
A week in Bombay was sufficient for Harry
to complete his father's business, and, after
taking a trip through India (of course not for-
getting a visit to Major Barton), he sailed for
home, where he arrived safely, and was warmly
welcomed by his father.


516








MY TROUBADOUR.

By CHARLES H. CRANDALL.

HIGH on the maple swinging,
To usher in with singing
The wedding of the Dawn
With the Dew upon the lawn,
You cheery little poet! 1
Although you do not know it, '
And see nobody near you,
I hear you-I hear you!

Hark, from the orchard hidden, a
A serenade unbidden! !
And by this dainty clue, .
Robin, I know it's you. ., -
No, you cannot deceive me, '
Pretending that you leave me;
I found you out, you dear, you -
I hear you-I hear you! .

Now on the meadow floor, "'r '
The scarlet troubadour
Such melody is letting
The sun forgets its setting!
You music-beating heart! P
Doing your little part,
You shall be seen and heard,
Though you are but a bird; -
So never, never, fear you,
I hear you-I hear you.


AT THE MUSICAL.

By CAROLINE EVANS.


THE cat on his fiddle thrummed hey-diddle-
diddle,
In measure delightfully gay,
And three little kittens waved wildly their
mittens,
And murmured: How well he does play!"
While Puss stamped his boots, thump, thump,
on the floor,
As a delicate hint that they 'd like some more.


The Pussy who fell down that horrible well
Arrived, rather damp, toward the end,
With Pussy Cat Mew, dressed in petticoat
new,
And Puss from the corner, her friend.
Only one sent regrets -" Sadly grieved to
have been
At London detained by a mouse and the
Queen."


- ,


/s.








MY TROUBADOUR.

By CHARLES H. CRANDALL.

HIGH on the maple swinging,
To usher in with singing
The wedding of the Dawn
With the Dew upon the lawn,
You cheery little poet! 1
Although you do not know it, '
And see nobody near you,
I hear you-I hear you!

Hark, from the orchard hidden, a
A serenade unbidden! !
And by this dainty clue, .
Robin, I know it's you. ., -
No, you cannot deceive me, '
Pretending that you leave me;
I found you out, you dear, you -
I hear you-I hear you! .

Now on the meadow floor, "'r '
The scarlet troubadour
Such melody is letting
The sun forgets its setting!
You music-beating heart! P
Doing your little part,
You shall be seen and heard,
Though you are but a bird; -
So never, never, fear you,
I hear you-I hear you.


AT THE MUSICAL.

By CAROLINE EVANS.


THE cat on his fiddle thrummed hey-diddle-
diddle,
In measure delightfully gay,
And three little kittens waved wildly their
mittens,
And murmured: How well he does play!"
While Puss stamped his boots, thump, thump,
on the floor,
As a delicate hint that they 'd like some more.


The Pussy who fell down that horrible well
Arrived, rather damp, toward the end,
With Pussy Cat Mew, dressed in petticoat
new,
And Puss from the corner, her friend.
Only one sent regrets -" Sadly grieved to
have been
At London detained by a mouse and the
Queen."


- ,


/s.











TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


BY LIEUT. R. H. FLETCHER.


[Begun in the January number.]
CHAPTER X.

WHEN Charlie, somewhat subdued by his
experience with the first act of the play, asked
his father what he thought of the second act,
the Captain replied, "Well, I think it ought to
be short."
"What, shorter than the first? cried Charlie.
"Yes," said. the Captain. "Remember, you
and Leslie are giving an entertainment for your
friends. You must think of their pleasure, and
not seize the chance to show yourselves off as
fine writers or actors. Three short acts of ten
minutes each are quite enough. You will find
that when you come to the performance it will
take nearly an hour. And now for the second
act. Give me the book, and let me see what
will be best."
Charlie had obtained a copy of the story from
which he had taken his ideas for the plot, and
had brought it home to examine at his leisure.
For a few minutes his father read in silence, and
then said, "Ah, yes. Here, now; this will do.
Let the scene be an out-of-doors one, by way
of variety."
"But how can you make it out-of-doors,
Pa?" asked Leslie.
Well," said her father, I will leave that to
you. Only, remember that I am not going to
have any carpenters in the house putting up
frames, and hammering and upsetting things
generally. Half the fun in parlor theatricals
is in proving your ingenuity by managing with
what things you have at hand. For instance,
you can get some cheap green stuff, calico or
something, to lay on the floor."
Not calico, dear," said Mrs. Morton; they
don't make green calico. You might get paper
cambric."
"Well, whatever you call it," said the Cap-
tain. "Then you can rig up a screen out of


the same material to hide the walls of the room,
and put some pots of flowers around, and a gar-
den seat or two. You want to give simply the
idea, that is all."
"I understand," said Charlie. It 's just as
they do in a photograph gallery."
"Exactly," said his father; "except that the
photographer does not care for color, and you
do. Now, when the curtain goes up, let Mr.
Harper-that is, General Washington-come
on the stage ready for departure. He walks up
and down with the youngest daughter of Mr.
Smith (Frances her name is), talking to her in a
kindly way, which he interrupts to say, Here
comes your father.' Mr. Smith, accompanied
by his son still disguised in his red wig, comes
forward. Mr. Harper then suddenly turns to
young Smith and says, If any fear of me
induces Captain Smith to maintain his disguise,
I beg that he will lay it aside.' 'My son, my
son!' cries the elder Mr. Smith, 'you are dis-
covered!' 'Great heavens! sir,' exclaims Fran-
ces, turning to Mr. Harper, with clasped hands,
'you will not betray him?' 'Fear nothing,'
says Mr. Harper; 'I cannot betray him, and
for your sake I would not if I could.' 'Well,
I care not,' says the young Captain; 'I am
weary of this masquerading.' He takes off his
wig and beard and throws them aside. Mr.
Harper smiles and says, 'You look so much
better in your own proper person, sir, I ad-
vise you to keep to it.' Now the elder sister,
Sarah, comes on and says hurriedly, 'Father,
Harvey Birch is here with your-' then catch-
ing sight of her brother without his disguise, she
exclaims, 'Why, Henry, what does this mean?
Have you forgotten that there is a stranger
among us?' And she looks at Mr. Harper.
'My dear sister,' says the young man, 'since
the stranger has seen through my disguise,
where is the use of keeping to it? It was a
great nuisance, and I am well rid of it.' 'And






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


519


Mr. Harper has promised not to betray him,
Sister,' says Frances, eagerly. 'Rest assured,'
says Mr. Harper, pleasantly; 'I have enjoyed
your hospitality, and I would not willingly cause
you trouble. Now, sir,'-this with a bow to old
Mr. Smith,-' if I may trouble you to order my
horse, I will take my leave.' Sarah calls Casar
to bring the gentleman's horse. Mr. Harper then
turns to Frances, and says, Heaven bless you,
my dear young lady! A girl who is so good
a daughter, so kind to strangers, and loves
her country as you do, deserves every blessing.
If ever you should need advice or assistance
in these troublous times, send this ring to Mr.
Harper, and if it lies in his power he will
gladly assist you.' He takes off a ring and
hands it to her. Caesar comes on to say that the
horse is ready, the stranger bows to them all,
and departs. Then the two young ladies talk
about him a little, saying, 'What a gentleman
he seems, what a noble countenance he has, and
what a kind manner!' They are interrupted by
Casar, who rushes on in great terror, exclaim-
ing that a body of American soldiers is coming
up the valley. Immediately every one is greatly
excited. Frances cries out for her brother to
fly, Sarah picks up his false wig and beard and
helps him to put them on. A drum is heard
back of the scenes, and then a sound of firing."
"With real guns, Pa?" said Leslie.
Not exactly, my dear," said her father, smil-
ing. "The firing can be imitated by opening
and shutting a big book rapidly. The Captain
and Mr. Smith rush off, followed by Casar.
There is more firing. The young ladies cling
to each other in great distress. Then the noise
ceases, and the Captain is brought in a prisoner
between two Continental soldiers, accompanied
by an.officer; his father and Casar follow. 'Sir,'
says the American officer to Captain Smith,
"if it be, as you say, that you are a British
officer, I pity you; for we find you inside our
lines in disguise, and while it may be true that
you come here only to visit your father, your
disguise would indicate that you are a spy, and
for that Major Andr6 was hung.' Then old
Mr. Smith on one side, and Sarah on the other,
throw themselves on their knees before the offi-
cer, crying out,' Oh, spare him, sir! Spare him!'
Frances puts her handkerchief to her eyes, while


Casar blubbers in the background, as the cur-
tain falls."
"And now for the third and last act," con-
tinued the Captain. "That must be even
quicker than the others. Let the curtain rise on
the parlor scene. Frances is sitting at a table
with a book before her, but every once in a while
she puts her handkerchief to her eyes. 'Alas!'
she says, 'what dreadful trouble has befallen us!
My poor brother a prisoner, and soon to be shot
as a spy! How can we prove that it was only
his affection for us that made him put on that
odious disguise?' At this moment her father
and sister enter, both looking very pale and
with eyes red from weeping. Frances arises
and embraces her father, while Sarah says,
'That dreadful American Major has just told me
that they are expecting a brigade of soldiers
here, and that when they come our poor Henry
will be tried by court martial. Oh, what shall
we do to save him!' Now have military music
on the piano, very faint at first, and growing
louder. The Continental Major enters and
says that the brigade is coming, and that the
court will sit the next morning, and they must
be ready to come before it as witnesses. 'Sir,'
says Sarah, turning to him, 'is there no one who
can save my poor brother ?' 'No one, if he is
found guilty,' replies the Major; 'that is, no one,
of course, except our Commander-in-chief, Gen-
eral Washington; and he is not likely to inter-
fere.' Oh,' says Frances, 'if that good, kind Mr.
Harper were but here to advise us!' Mr. Har-
per!' says the Major, looking at her curiously.
'What do you know of Mr. Harper?' 'The
gentleman spent with us the night on which my
unfortunate son arrived,' says Mr. Smith; 'and
he thanked us for our hospitality, and offered, if
the occasion arose, to be of service.' 'Did he
so?' says the Major. Indeed, sir, he did,' says
Frances, 'and gave me this ring as a token.'
'Why, then,' says the Major, 'if you want my
advice, I 'd lose no time in sending to him.'
'But I know not where to find him,' says Fran-
ces. 'Well,' says the Major, 'perhaps I may
know, and if you choose to trust me with your
message I will see that it reaches him.' 'That
will I, sir, gladly,' says Frances; and we thank
you from the bottom of our hearts for your kind-
ness. Father, I will go now and write the mes-






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


sage.' Then they both go out. Meantime the
martial music and tramping outside continue;
and Caesar rushes in and declares that the whole
American army is coming down the valley, and
runs out again. Then Frances comes back and
says that the note has been despatched. 'Pray
heaven,' she exclaims, 'it may be of some use!'
' How can it be,' says Sarah, mournfully, when
that Continental Major has said that no one but
General Washington himself could be of use?'
Now there is a knock at the door. Casar,
coming in, announces, Mr. Harper!' Mr.
Harper!' they all exclaim, as that gentleman
makes his appearance in his old military cloak.
' General Washington, at your service,' he says,
throwing back the cloak and displaying his uni-
form. Every one, of course, is astonished. But
Frances, rushing forward, kneels before him, and
taking his hand in both of hers and pressing it
to her .lips, cries out, 'We are saved! We are
saved!' 'Rise, my dear young lady,' says the
General. 'Not till you have granted my re-
quest,' she says. 'Oh, noble sir, spare my
brother's life!' 'I will,' says the General, 'be-
cause I know him to be innocent. Major,' he
continues, 'bring in the prisoner.' Then Cap-
tain Smith is brought in by two soldiers, as be-
fore. 'Young man,' says General Washington,
severely, 'you have had a narrow escape from a
disgraceful death. Let it be hereafter a warning
to you not to sail under false colors. Major,
you may accept this officer's parole as simply a
prisoner-of-war.' The Major bows. Old Mr.
Smith puts his arm around his son on one side,
his sister Sarah does the same on the other.
Frances stands next to General Washington,
holding his hand and looking gratefully up into
his face. Casar, as usual, grins in the back-
ground, and down comes the curtain."
Hurray! cried Leslie. Pa, you 're just
splendid!" And sitting on his knee, she raised
his big mustache with both hands and kissed
him.
"I think I '11 be General Washington,'" said
Charlie thoughtfully.
"It will be a difficult part," said his father;
"but still I think it might fit you. The hardest
part, perhaps, is 'Frances'; but it seems to suit
our little friend Mildred. As for the rest of
the characters and the conversation, you must


arrange all that yourselves. Furthermore, you
must make up your own costumes, remem-
ber. Everything about the play must be home-
made; those are the terms on which you are
allowed to have it."
Certainly," said Charlie; "we understand
that. I 'm ever so much obliged to you, Pa.
And, Les," he continued, "we must go over to
Mildred's to-morrow and look at the costumes
in those old pictures that are hanging in the
parlor, so that we '11 know how to make the
things. I tell you, Mildred will look fine in one
of those old-fashioned dresses, sitting at the
spinning-wheel! I do hope her mother will let
her act."
CHAPTER XI.

"MILDRED is going to act!" cried Leslie,
rushing into the dining-room one Saturday
afternoon, about a week after the events narrated
in the last chapter. It was now the middle -of
December, and the party was to take place the
following Friday. Charlie and his friend Will
Baily were in the dining-room, making a screen
out of the kitchen clothes-horse. Charlie, who
was hammering, was startled by Leslie's sudden
entrance, and hammered his finger; but the
news she brought salved the bruise and saved
her from an angry reception.
"Is she ?" he cried, blowing his hurt finger.
"That's fine! I 'm awfully glad to hear that.
Now we 're all right."
"Yes," said Leslie, nodding her head and
speaking very fast. "I was over there just now,
and Mildred said that when you read the play
aloud the other day, her mother liked it very
well. And then while they were talking, Blanche
Howes came in. She was real nice about
this; she said that if Mildred wanted to act
she would help get her ready, so that Mrs. Fair-
leigh would n't have to bother. And Dreddy
says that Blanche is a clever girl, and that if
she would help her everything would be all
right. And at last her mother said she might
act. I thought you 'd be glad to know it, so
I came right over to tell you."
"Well, that's a piece of good news, Les,"
Charlie replied. "I 've been really anxious
about that part. I was afraid Mrs. Fairleigh
would n't let Mildred play, and I don't know


[MAY,






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


anybody else who could have taken it. You
just ought to see her, Will," added Charlie
enthusiastically, turning to his friend. "She is
just the girl for that character-pretty and
ladylike."
The clothes-horse, which was a high one, was


sionals; and that it's best not to lead people to
expect too much, 'cause then they won't be
disappointed. The folding-doors will do well
enough for a curtain, and, besides, when they 're
closed the audience won't hear the noise we
make in getting ready, as they would if we


I




'.1.j. ~A
hl


t|r ..


"'MILDRED IS GOING TO ACT!' CRIED LESLIE, RUSHING INTO THE DINING-ROOM."


first covered with red cotton, Charlie standing
on a chair and tacking it on while Will after-
ward ruled lines on it with a piece of chalk,
the whole being intended to represent a red
brick wall for the garden scene. Creepers and
vines were to be stitched on to the cotton to
add to the illusion.
There! said Charlie, at last, as he stepped
back with his head on one side to look at their
work. I think that's going to be pretty good,
myself."
I wish we could have a regular, stage and
footlights, and curtain, and everything," said
Will.
"So do I," said Charlie; "but we can't.
You know they are going to use the room
for dancing as soon as the play is over, and if
there was a stage they could n't. Besides, pa
says that if we put up a stage, people would ex-
pect to see real scenery; and if we had real
scenery they 'd expect us to act like profes-


had only a curtain; and there won't be any
smarties peeping in to see what we 're doing."
"To-day, when I was over at Mildred's
house," Leslie remarked, "Blanche Howes
said that in a piece she saw once where there
was a storm, you could hear the wind whistle
and the shutters slam."
"We might do something like that," said
Charlie.
"And Belle Foster," said Leslie, encouraged
by this, "said that we could imitate the rain
by turning on the water in the bath-tub."
Of course," said Will; now that we've got
everything fixed, everybody wants to tell us how
to do it!"
"She did n't say how we were to get the
bath-tub down into the parlor, did she ? asked
Charlie.
No," said Leslie, laughing. "I guess she
did n't think about that."
We might get pa to write an official request






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


to the Weather Bureau to have a real thunder-
storm that night," continued Charlie.
But we don't want it to rain really, Charlie,"
protested Leslie; "it would spoil the party."
You goosey," said her brother, I was
only in fun. The Weather Bureau can't make
it rain."
Well," said Leslie, "they can tell when it 's
going to rain."
Yes," said Charlie, "they can do that."
"How do they do it ?" asked Will.
"Well," said Charlie, "they have men sta-
tioned all over, everywhere. Don't you re-
member, Les, that Signal-sergeant who was at
Fort Jones, when we were there--that big
man who had orange-colored chevrons, and
two crossed flags on his cap? Well, he was
one. Then they have a station away up in the
Rocky Mountains, on Pike's Peak, where they
are snowed-in nine months in the year, and the
wind blows so hard that they have to tie the
house down with ropes, or it would blow away.
And they have them down in Arizona, and up
in Washington Territory, and everywhere. And
every day they telegraph to the Weather Bureau
how the wind is blowing, and how hot or cold
it is, and whether there 's a storm coming, and
where it is coming from, and all that. And the
men of the Weather Bureau read them all, and
so know all about it."
"But I don't see how they can tell whether
it is going to rain," said Will.
"Why, this way," said Charlie: "Suppose
the Sergeant up at Fort Buford, on the Upper
Missouri, telegraphs that a storm has just passed
over his place, from north to south; and the
next station below him, say at Bismarck, tele-
graphs that they iare having a storm at their
place and that it came from the north; and the
next station south of that, at- at- well, at Red
Cloud Agency, says that it looks as if they were
going to have a storm from the north, then the
head of the Weather Bureau knows that a storm
that began somewhere up at Buford is traveling
down the Missouri River Valley, does n't he?
And he knows how fast it is traveling, because
he knows how long it took for it to get from
one station to another. So then he can tele-
graph to the towns further down, at Omaha
and St. Louis, where maybe there is n't any


sign of a storm, that it 's likely to rain there
in twenty-four hours. Don't you see?"
"How did you know all that?" said Will,
admiringly.
The Signal-sergeant at Fort Jones explained
it to me," said Charlie. "There 's a lot more
he told me that I 've forgotten."
Do you believe it? said Leslie.
"Why, of course I do," said Charlie.
"Well, but how can a storm travel? asked
Leslie.
"It does n't travel as people do," answered
Charlie; "that is, it does n't, get on a railroad-
train with trunks and a lunch-basket." At which
idea both Will and Leslie laughed. But I 've
seen lots of times, out on the plains, a rain-
storm go traveling along, away off, while the
sun was shining everywhere else."
"Yes," said Leslie, "so have I. But I hope
we won't have a real storm the night of the
party."
CHAPTER XII.

AND so Mildred had her wish. She was go-
ing to act in private theatricals. She was going
to be dressed like her favorite in the picture,
Mistress Barbara Fairleigh, and there were to
be British soldiers like those who had rapped
on Barbara's door that night, a hundred years
ago, and demanded to know whether they
were "king's men or rebels." And General
Washington" was to talk to her. It all seemed
like a dream. Charlie had given her a copy of
the play so that she might learn her part, and
she studied it every spare moment that she had,
and asked her mother to hear her say it so
many times that her mother soon knew it as
well as Mildred did.
Fortunately the tidy that she had been mak-
ing for her mother had, with Eliza's help, been
repaired and was now finished, and lay in her
bureau drawer, wrapped in tissue-paper, wait-
ing for Christmas morning. Then, too, in the
two weeks that had elapsed before her mother
had given her permission to take part in the
theatricals, she had devoted her time to mak-
ing a handkerchief-case for her father. This
was of blue silk lined with white quilted satin,
and inside of it was violet saehet-powder, and
around the edge was a gilt cord. This was now


[MAY,







TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


complete, and lay beside the tidy. Her presents
for Amanda and Eliza were to be bought with
'her own pocket-money that she had been saving
for a long time past. She had almost decided
that Amanda was to have a new head-kerchief,
and Eliza a purse. Her mother, however, had















,,'
,' -




9' -



"'AN' DE LADIES DEY GIVE DEIR RIGHT HAN' TO DE
GEN'LEMN.' 1'

promised to go shopping with her to deter-
mine finally these purchases. To be sure, there
was some other Christmas work in the way of
helping her mother to get together bundles of
flannels and cast-off clothing, and toys, for the
orphans at the Home, and for the poor people
who always expected help of some sort from
the Fairleighs; but that could be done after
the party.
Years ago, when Mildred's father and grand-
father had plenty of money, Amanda said,
there were a great many poor persons, prin-
cipally colored folk, who made a regular cus-
tom of gathering in the kitchen to receive gifts
on Christmas morning. At such times old Mrs.
Fairleigh, Mildred's grandmother, would dis-
tribute dresses and coats and underwear and
shoes and groceries.
"'Deed, honey," said Amanda, "you' gran'-
pa he used to spen' hun'erds o' dolla's on de
pore folks at Chris'mas-time. It was ev'ybody


come, an' welcome. All dey got to do was to
holler, Chris'mas gift, Mars' Tom!' an' dey
got some'in'. But dem days is past. You' pa
lost a heap o' money at de time o' de wa', an'
bein' sick all de time, it 's mighty hard scratchin'
to get enough togedder to keep de Fairleighs,
let alone pervidin' for all dem pore folks. But
you' ma she 's boun' to keep up de traditions
o' de fambly w'at come to 'em wid de jenny-
lugical tree, an' so long 's she 's got victuals
an' clo'es she 's gwine to share 'em wid de
pore."
So, these days before Christmas, Mildred's
spare hours were pretty well occupied. In fact,
she was glad that her mother had not given her
permission to take part in Charlie's theatricals
until after her preparations for Christmas were
completed and her school vacation had begun.
It was so pleasant to feel that she was not
neglecting any of her duties for this new amuse-
ment. She wondered if her mother had foreseen
this. When she suggested it to Amanda, the
old woman promptly replied, Co'se she did,
honey, co'se she did. You' ma she do a heap
o' t'inkin' fer yo' w'at yo' don' know nuffin
'bout."
Amanda took a great deal of interest in Mil-
dred's play-actin'," as she called it. I mind de
time," she said, "w'en dey had jest dem very
same identical play-actin' in dis yere house;
on'y it war de grown folks w'at did it, not de
chillun. I knowed you' gran'ma's maid, Su-
sanna, in dem days o' junketin', jest a'ter you'
gran'ma was married; an' I used to come over
yere an' help Susanna dress her ha'r, an' lay out
de finery an' all dat. An' I don' want to see no
likelier woman dan you' gran'ma was, a-com-
in' down de steps wid her long gown a-trailin'
out behind, an' all de gen'lem' a-bowin' an'
a-bendin' like dey was jest ready to git right down
on de flo' fer her to walk on. An' de way dey
talk! I tell yo', honey, de men nowadays dey
don' know how to talk. I 've stood at de head
o' de sta'rs many a time a'ter de mistis go
down, a-list'nin' to w'at dey say. Good eben-
in', Mr. Lee,' says she; I hope yo' well.'
' Madam,' says he, to hear you' voice is a cure
fo' all illness.' How is de wedder out dis
ebenin', Mr. Pinckney?' says she. 'Is de moon
shinin' ?' 'Who has eyes fer de moon,' says he,






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


'w'en Mistis Fairleigh appears!' Da's de way
dey talk. None o' you' common 'I 's tol'able
well, thank ye, ma'am, an' how's all you folks ? '
or Yes, 'm, I spec de moon's a-shinin'.' Don't
yo' fergit dat, honey, in you' play. And w'en it
comes to dancin', I reckon you '11 dance de
minyet, 'cause da's w'at dey all dance in dem
days. It's like dis: De gen'lem' dey steps
out wid deir heads high in de a'r, an' p'int deir
toes out, an' hold out deir right han's, wid de
left tucked in deir waist-es. An' de ladies dey
raise deir skirt a little wid de left han', an' p'int
deir toes out, an' give deir right han' to de
gen'lem'. An' den de gen'lem' dey steps high
dis-a way, an' de ladies dey step high dat-a
way, jest like de turkeys w'en dey full o' pride.
An' den dey separate, an' de gen'lem' dey put
deir han' on deir heart an' bow dat low you
could put a tea-tray on deir back, it's so flat;
an' de ladies dey curtsy down to de groun',
an' rise ag'in, slow an' easy, like a yeast-powder
biscuit in a hot oven. An' de way dey manage
deir trails-um! um! I clear to goodness, it's
wonderful. I 've seen you' gran'ma in black
velvet wid t'ree yards in her trail, an' real lace
dat wide "-and Amanda held her hands a foot
apart-" all roun' de hem. An' sometimes w'en
she dancin' dat minyet she wind herself up in
dat trail so dat she look like de statue in de
parlo', on de black pe'stal. An' den she unwind
herself, jest as slow an' easy, an' dat trail 'u'd go
sweeping' roun', an' de gen'lem' dey so spry dey
jest naturally step roun' it an' over it so dat de
lace ain't so much as frayed out at de edge. I 'd
like to see de gen'lem' do dat now-
adays Dey jest walk all over de -
ladies' trails, 'deed dey do!"
Although these recollec-
tionsofAmanda's
were not of great
practical value to
Mildred, because .
she was not to '
come down the ,,


steps in ball costume, nor dance the minuet, yet
she liked very much to hear them. In view of her
coming appearance as one of those elegant ladies
of the last century, Amanda's stories seemed to
have a more personal interest. And that night
Mildred dreamed that she was the subject of
the portrait in the parlor, young Mistress Bar-
bara Fairleigh, dancing a minuet with General
Washington, and that she had on a dress with
a train that reached all the way across the
ball-room and out of the door and across the
hall and disappeared up the steps. And in
dancing she wound herself up in this endless
train, and it kept piling up higher about her,
until she could not see over it, and they had to
bring a step-ladder to get her out.

At last the day before the party arrived. In
the morning the spinning-wheel and the spin-
dle-legged table and chairs had been called for
by an expressman, and had been dusted off and
brought down-stairs, and carried away to Les-
lie's house. In the afternoon all those who
were to take part in the play were to meet there
for a full-dress rehearsal. Mildred had begged
her mother to go with her, for she was beginning
to fear that she had made a mistake in thinking
she could act, and almost wished that she had
said no, when Charlie asked her.
However, the rehearsal was very different from
what she had expected. There was a great deal
of talking and confusion. Charlie had rushed
around with the manuscript in his hands, explain-
ing and correcting, and nobody seemed to do the
right thing at the right moment. Ap-
parently no one was prepared,
and everything went wrong;
so that Mildred came away
feeling sadly dis-
appointed, and
convinced that
the perform-
ance was to be
a dismal failure.
(To be continued.)


[MAY,


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MAY.

BY NORA PERRY.


OH, whom do you think I saw to-day,
Oh, whom do you. think I met,
As I came over the woodland way
In all the April wet?

The wind was whistling loud and high
A roistering wild March air,
While April clouds went weeping by,
As if in sheer despair.

And all the trees flung out their arms
With shuddering sighs, and yet,
In spite-in spite of these alarms,
Oh, whom do you think I met?

A little child, a little maid,
Whose face was like a flower,
Whose laughing eyes shone unafraid
Through wind and cloud and shower.

She looked at me, she laughed at me;
Then turned and laughing fled.


I looked at her, and laughed to see
How fast her footsteps sped.

And then I called, Come back! come back!
Come tell me what's your name,
And what you 've strewn along your track,
And whence, my dear, you came."

At this, she only laughed the more,
And shook her flowery dress,
And said or sung, as on she bore,
My name, my name? now guess!"

And as she thus did sing or say,
She flung into my face
The sweet arbutus, spray by spray
And held upon her race.

And then I knew the lovely thing,
And guessed her name straightway:
She was the darling child of spring,
The little maid called MAY.


SOLID COMFORT.


----- ~
c.e
----*i ~----~--
Y




























BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS.


VERY ancient and character-
istic story about the origin.of
Isleta is based on the his-
toric fact that part of its
founders came from east
of the Manzano Moun-
tains,-from one of
..." the prehistoric Pueblo
towns whose ruins are
now barely visible in those broad plains.
Once upon a time there lived in one of those
villages (so runs the story) a young Indian
named Kahp-too-6o-yoo, the Corn-stalk Young
Man. He was not only a famous hunter and a
brave warrior against the raiding Comanches,
but a great wizard; and to him the Trues had
given the power of the clouds. When Kahp-
too-oo-yoo willed it, the glad rains fell, and
made the dry fields laugh in green; and without
him no one could bring water from the sky.
His father was Old-Black-Cane, his mother was
Corn-Maiden, and his two sisters were Yellow-
Corn-Maiden and Blue-Corn-Maiden.
Kahp-too-oo-yoo had a friend, a young man
of about the same age. But, as often happens,
the friend was of a false heart, and was really a
witch, though Kahp-too-oo-yoo never dreamed
of such a thing.
The two young men used to go together to
the mountains to get wood, and always carried


their bows and arrows, to kill deer and ante-
lopes, or whatever game they might find.
One day the false friend came to Kahp-too-
oo-yoo and said:
"Friend, let us go to-morrow for wood, and
to hunt."
They agreed that so they would do. Next
day they started before sunrise, and came pres-
ently to the spot where they gathered wood.
Just there they started a herd of deer. Kahp-
too-oo-yoo followed part of the herd, which fled
to the northwest, and the friend pursued those
that went southwest. After a long, hard chase,
Kahp-too-oo-yoo killed a deer with his swift
arrows, and brought it on his strong back to the
place where the friends had separated. Presently
came the friend, very hot and tired, and with
empty hands; and seeing the deer, he was
pinched with jealousy.
"Come, friend," said Kahp-too-oo-yoo. It
is well for brothers to share with brothers. Take
of this deer and cook and eat; and carry a part
to your house, as if you had killed it yourself."
Thank you," answered the other coldly, as
one who will not; but he did not accept.
When they had gathered each a load of wood,
and lashed it with rawhide thongs in bundles
upon their shoulders, they trudged home -
Kahp-too-oo-yoo carrying the deer on top of
his wood. His sisters received him with joy,






THE ANTS THAT PUSHED ON THE SKY.


praising him as a hunter; and the friend went
away to his house with a heavy face.
Several different days when they went to the
mountain together, the very same thing came
to pass. Kahp-too-oo-yoo killed each time a
deer; and each time the friend came home with
nothing, refusing all offers to share as brothers.
And he grew more jealous and more sullen
every day.
At last he came again to invite Kahp-too-oo-
yoo to go; but this time it was with an evil
purpose that he asked. Then again the same
thing happened. Again the unsuccessful friend
refused to take a share of Kahp-too-oo-yoo's
deer; and when he had sat long without a
word, he said:
"Friend Kahp-too-oo-yoo, now I will prove
you, if you are truly my friend, for I do not
think it."
"Surely," said Kahp-too-oo-yoo, "if there is
any way to prove myself, I will do it gladly,
for truly I am your friend."
"Then come, and we will play a game to-
gether, and with that I will prove you."
"It is well. But what game shall we play,
for here we have nothing?"
Near them stood a broken pine-tree, with
one great arm projecting from its twisted body.
And looking at it, the false friend said, "I see
nothing but to play the gallo race; and be-
cause we have no horses we will ride this arm
of the pine-tree-first I will ride, and then you."
So he climbed the pine-tree and sat astride
the limb as upon a horse, and rode, reaching
over to the ground as if to pick up something,
in imitation of one of the most popular and ex-
citing sports of the southwestern Indians and
Mexicans-in which the players, on horseback
and at a wild gallop, try to snatch some tiny
object from the ground.
Now you," he said, coming down; and
Kahp-too-oo-yoo climbed the tree and rode on
the swinging branch. But the false friend be-
witched the pine, and it grew in a moment
to the very sky, carrying Kahp-too-oo-yoo.
"We do this to one another," taunted the
false friend, as the tree shot up; and taking the
wood, and the deer which Kahp-too-oo-yoo
had killed, he went to the village. There the
sisters met him, and asked:


"Where is our brother? "
"Truly I know not, for he went northwest
and I southwest; and though I waited long at
the meeting-place, he did not come. Probably
he will soon return. But take of this deer which
I killed, for sisters should share the labors of
brothers."
But the girls would take none of the meat,
and went home sorrowful.
Time went on, and still there was no Kahp-
too-oo-yoo. His sisters and his old parents
wept always, and all the village was sad. And
soon the crops grew yellow in the fields, and
the springs failed, and the animals walked like
weary shadows; for Kahp-too-oo-yoo, he who
had the power of the clouds, was gone, and
there was no rain. And then perished all that is
green; the animals fell in the brown fields; and
the gaunt people who sat to warm themselves in
the sun began to die there where they sat. At
last the poor old man said to his daughters:
Little daughters, prepare food, for again
we will go to look for thy brother."


C-.


SOUTH, EAST, NORTH AND WEST IN SEARCH OF
KAHPI-TOOO--YOO. (SKi PAGE 529.)


[MAY,


: t~r ~'~.






THE ANTS THAT PUSHED ON THE SKY.


The girls made cakes of the blue corn-
meal for the journey; and on the fourth
day they started. Old-Black-Cane hobbled
to the south, his wife to the east, the elder
girl to the north, and the younger to the
west.
For a great distance they traveled; and
at last Blue-Corn-Maiden, who was in the
north, heard a far, faint song. It was so
little that she thought it must be imagi-
nary; but she stopped to listen, and softly,
softly it came again:
To-ai-foo-ni-kloo-hlim,
nig-k'hai k'hahm
Ee-ek-boori-koon-hlee-ok,
ng-k'kai k'hahm.
Ak-ee-ai, ak-ee-ai, aim "


(" Old-Black-Cane
My father is called;
Corn-Maiden
My mother is called.
Ah-ee-ai, ah-ee-ai, aim ")

When she heard this, Blue-Corn-Maiden
ran until she came to her sister, and cried: -
"Sister! Sister! I think I hear our
brother somewhere in captivity. Listen!"
Trembling, they listened; and again the
song came floating to them, so soft, so sad that
they wept-as to this day their people weep
when a white-haired old man, filled with the
memories of Kahp-too-oo-yoo, sings that plain-
tive melody.
"Surely it is our brother!" they cried; and
off they went running to find their parents.
And when all listened together, again they
heard the song.
Oh, my son! cried the poor old woman,
"in what captivity do you find yourself? True
it is that your father is Old-Black-Cane, and I,
your mother, am called Corn-Maiden. But
why do you sing thus ?"
Then all four of them began to follow the
song, and at last they came to the foot of the
sky-reaching pine; but they could see nothing
of Kahp-too-oo-yoo, nor could their cries reach
him. There, on the ground, were his bow and
arrows, with strings and feathers eaten away by
VOL. XIX.- 34.


,,.--

lime; and
i.here also
i .; : his pack
) I ,,f ,cod, tied
'0ii the raw-
I--"ih1. tlLong, and
re y t,: be taken
'' I :ne. But after
tl,,_ had i ear. ledevery-
l ,-e tle coull not find
Sah l .p- -,.-'-:.o ; pnd atlast
tei eVrnt -In,, L e heavy at

O ir- ldaiy it l.:iprened that
,. r.: -. *.. .. ;..: or the
Lintle Black Ant, took a
.i:.urrnc.-y enr.i aent up the
I ": ,:\.ir>, l .1- 1 _pi[ne, even to
: to,-, ir rh0, sky. When
l I. -...und K;il-.-t,:.o-oo-yoo
it t!illi, a I.,r;:-.,'1. rhe Little
r, ik Aia %.a- a-trnikhed, and

S_-e: x .:-..-,", (M an of
SF':' e, i. I .:' ..o:'mr :- it tl',i.t you are
up here im such a condition, while
/ your people at home are suffering
and dying for rain, and few are left
to meet you if you return? Are you here of
your free will?"
No," groaned Kahp-too-oo-yoo; "but I am
here because of the jealousy of him who was as
my brother, with whom I shared my food and
labor, whose home was my home, and my
home his. He is the cause, for he was jealous
and bewitched me hither. And now I am
dying of famine."
If that is so," said the Little Black Ant, I
will be the one to help you "; and he ran down
to the world as fast as he could. When he got
there he sent out the crier to summon all of his
nation, and also those of the In-odon, the Big
Red Ants. Soon all the armies of the Little
Black Ants and the Big Red Ants met at the
foot of the pine, and held a council. They
smoked the weer (sacred cigarette), and de-
liberated what should be done.
"You Big Red Ants are stronger than we


529






THE ANTS THAT PUSHED ON THE SKY.


who are small," said the War-Captain of the
Little Black Ants, and for that reason you
ought to take the top of the tree to work."
Een-dah (No)," said the War-Captain of
the Big Red Ants. "If you think we are the
stronger, give us the bottom, where we can
work more, and you go to the top."
So it was agreed, and the captains made
their armies ready. But first the Little Black
Ants got the cup of an acorn, and mixed in it
corn-meal and water and honey, and carried it
up the tree. They were so many that they
covered its trunk all the way to the sky.
When Kahp-too-oo-yoo saw, his heart was
heavy, and he thought: "But what good will
that very little do me, for I am dying of
hunger and thirst ? "
Nay, friend," answered the Captain of the
Little Black Ants, who knew his thought; "a
person should not think so. This little is enough,
and there will be some left."
And it was so; for when Kahp-too-oo-yoo
had eaten all he could, the acorn-cup was still
nearly full.
Then the ants carried the cup to the ground
and came back to him.
"Now, friend," said the Captain, "we will
do our best. But you must shut your eyes
till I say 'Ahw!'"
Kahp-too-oo-yoo shut his eyes, and the Cap-
tain made signals down to those at the foot of
the tree. And the Little Black Ants above
put their feet against the sky and pushed with
all their might on the top of the pine; and
the Big Red Ants below caught the trunk and
pulled as hard as they could; and the very
first tug drove the great pine a quarter of its
length into the earth.
"Ahw! shouted the Captain of the Little
Black Ants; and Kahp-too-oo-yoo opened his
eyes, but he could see nothing below.
"Shut your eyes again," said the Captain,
giving the signal. Again the Little Black Ants
pushed mightily against the sky, and the Big
Red Ants pulled mightily from below; and the
pine was driven another fourth of its length into
the earth.
"Ahw! cried the Captain; and when Kahp-
too-oo-yoo opened his eyes he could just see the
big, brown world.


Again he closed his eyes. There was another
great push and pull, and only a quarter of the
great pine was left above the ground. Now
Kahp-too-oo-yoo could see, far below, the
parched fields strewn with dead animals, and
his own village full of dying people.
Again the Little Black Ants pushed and the
Big Red Ants pulled; and this time the tree was
driven clear out of sight, and Kahp-too-oo-yoo
was left sitting on the ground. He hastily made
a bow and arrows, and soon killed a fat deer,
which he brought and divided among the Little
Black Ants and the Big Red Ants, thanking
them for their kindness.
Then he made all his clothing to be new, for
he had been four years a prisoner in the be-
witched tree, and was all in rags. Making for
himself a flute from the
bark of a young tree, l
he played upon it as he
strode homeward, and
then he sang:
"Ka p too- oo -yoo tu-
mah-quee,
Nah-ckoorkwe-shay-tin, I
Nah-shurkwe-chay-tin;
Kahp-too-oo-yoo tu-mah-
quee.

(" Kahp-too-oo-yoo has
come to life again,
Is back to his home
coming,
Blowing the yellow and
the blue;
Kahp-too-oo-yoo has
come to life again.")

As he walked and
played, the forgotten
clouds came over him, dEL
KAHP-TOO-OO-YOO
and the soft rain began CALLING THE RAIN.
to fall, and all was green and good. But only so
far as his voice reached came the rain; and be-
yond all was still death and drought. When he
came to the end of the wet, he played and sang
again; and again the rain fell as far as his voice
was heard. This time the Fool-Boy, who was
wandering outside the dying village, saw the far
storm and heard the singing. He ran to tell


530


[MAY,






THE ANTS THAT PUSHED ON THE SKY.


Kahp-too-oo-yoo's parents; but nobody would
believe a Fool-Boy, and they sent him away.
When the Fool-Boy went out again, the rain
fell on him and gave him strength, and he came
running a second time to tell. Then the sisters
came out of the house and saw the rain and
heard the song; and they cried for joy, and told
their parents to rise and meet him. But the
poor old people were dying of weakness, and
could not rise; and the sisters went alone.
When they met him they fell on their knees,
weeping; but Kahp-too-oo-yoo lifted them up
and blessed them. He gave an ear of blue
corn to Blue-Corn-Maiden, and to Yellow-
Corn-Maiden an ear of yellow corn, and
brought them home.
As he sang again, the rain fell in the village;
and when it touched the pinched faces of the
starving they sat up and grew strong. And the dy-
ing crawled out to drink, and were strong again;
and the withered fields grew green and glad.
When they came to the house, Kahp-too-oo-
yoo blessed his parents, and then said:
"Little sisters, give us to eat."
But they answered, How ? For you have
been gone these four years, and there was none
to give us rain. We planted, but nothing came,
and to-day we ate the last grain."
Nay, little sisters," he said. A person
should not think so. Look now in the store-
room, to see if there be not something there."


But we have looked and looked, and have
turned over everything to try to find even one
grain."
"Yet look once more," he said; and when
they opened the door, lo! there was the store-
room piled to the roof with corn, and another
room was full of wheat. Then they cried for
joy, and began to roast the blue ears, for they
were dying of hunger.
At the sweet smell of the roasting corn came
the starving neighbors, crowding at the door,
and crying:
O Kahp-too-oo-yoo Give us to taste one
grain of corn, and then we will go home and
die."
But Kahp-too-oo-yoo handed to each an ear,
and said:
"Fathers, brothers, go now to your own
houses, for there you will find corn as much as
here." And when they went, it was so. All,
began to roast corn and to eat; and the dead
in the houses awoke and were strong again, and
all the village sang and danced.
From that day there was plenty of rain, for he
who had the power of the clouds was at home
again. In the spring the people planted, and
in the fall the crops were so great that all the
town could not hold them.
As for the false friend, he died of shame in
his house, not daring to come out; and no one
wept for him.


THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.

BY CHARLES E. CARRY.

[Begun in tke December number.] The houses were all brilliantly lighted up, and
CHAPTER XI. there were great iron lamps swung on chains
across the street, so that the street itself was
THE DANCING ANIMALS. almost as bright as day. There was a con-
IT seemed to be evening again, and, although fused sound of fiddling going on somewhere,
the Ferryman was nowhere in sight, Dorothy and as Dorothy walked along she could hear
knew the place the moment she looked up and a scuffling noise inside the houses as if the in-
saw the peaked roofs outlined against the sky. habitants were dancing about on sanded floors.






[MAY,


THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.


The strangest thing about the fiddling was
that it seemed to be going on somewhere in the
air, and the sound appeared to come from all
directions at once; and presently, as Dorothy
turned a corner, she came upon a number of
storks who were dancing a solemn sort of qua-
drille up and down the middle of the street.
They stopped dancing as Dorothy came along,
and, after gazing gravely at her for a moment,


"AN ELEPHANT AND A SHEEP SEIZED HER BY THE HAN
MOMENT SHE WAS DANCING IN THE RIN
flew away over the tops of the houses, with
the sound of the fiddling following them like a
traveling band until it finally died away in the
distance.
But the scuffling noise in the houses contin-
ued, and Dorothy did just what you'd suppose
such a curious little child would do-that is,
she stole up and peeped in at one of the win-
dows; but she could see nothing through the
thick glass but some shadows bobbing con-
fusedly about. After hesitating a moment, she
softly opened the door and went in.
The room was full of animals of every de-
scription, dancing around in a ring with the
greatest enthusiasm; and as Dorothy appeared
they all shouted, Here she is! and, before she
could say a single word, the two nearest to her
(they were an elephant and a sheep, by the way)
seized her by the hands, and the next moment
she was dancing in the ring. She was quite sur-
prised to see that the elephant was no bigger than
the sheep; and, as she looked about, it seemed
to her, in the confusion, that all the animals in
the room were of precisely the same size.


Is n't it rather unusual," she said to the
Sheep (it seemed more natural, somehow, to
speak to the Sheep)-" is n't it rather unusual
for different animals to be so much alike?"
Not in our set," said the Sheep, conceitedly.
"We all know who's who. Of course we have
to mark the pigs, as they 're so extremely like the
polar-bears;" and Dorothy noticed that two
pigs, who were dancing just opposite to her, had
labels with PIG" on them
,.... hung around their necks by
little chains, as if they had
S".'..* i been a couple of decanters
,'" -" only," she thought, "it
S '" would have been 'SHERRY'
Sor 'MADEIRA' instead of
^ ';. 'PIG,' you know."
I suppose you all came
.'i out of a Noah's Ark," she
'' t' said presently, at a venture.
"Of course. How very
clever you are!" said the
Sheep, admiringly. ': Lar-
gest size, I believe. By the
DS, AND THE EXT way," the Sheep added con-
G." fidentially, "those two tapirs
over there are too greedy for anything, about
invitations. If they don't go out everynight,
they 're always put out."
This sounded like a joke, but the Sheep was
so serious that Dorothy did n't dare to laugh, so
she said, by way of continuing the conversation,
I don't see any birds here."
"Oh dear, no!" exclaimed the Sheep; "you
see, this is really a quadrupedrille. Of course
you're all right, because it's precisely as if you
were dancing on your hind feet. In fact," she
added, nodding approvingly, "you look almost
as well as if you were."
"Thank you!" said Dorothy, laughing.
"There was a seal that wanted to join," the
Sheep went on. He pressed us very hard, but
he never made the slightest impression on us";
and there was a twinkle in the Sheep's eyes as
she said this, so that Dorothy felt morally certain
it was a joke this time; but, before she could
make any reply, the Elephant called out Paws!"
and the animals all stopped dancing and began
walking about and fanning themselves with little
portfolios which they produced in such a mys-






THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.


terious manner that Dorothy could n't
in the, world they came from.
Now, look here," said the Elep
seemed to be a sort of Master of C
and the animals all clustered about
said this,- "why can't she dance
Camel ?" and he pointed out Dorotl
portfolio.
"She can!" shouted the animals
"Come on, Sarah!" And the Came
been moping in a corner with her he


"THE ANIMALS BEGAN TO CROWD OUT
OF THE FRONT GATEWAY."

the wall, came forward with a very
pression on her face.
"Her name is Sahara," whispered
plucking at Dorothy's frock to attrac
tion, but we call her Sarah to save t
kind of grumpy now because the ot
stayed away, but she '11 titter like a t
she gets to dancing."
I don't know what relation she
phrey," thought Dorothy, as the Cam
by the hand, but she's certainly big
be his great-grandmother ten times c
fore she had time to think any mor
the Elephant called out, Ladies cha
the dancing began again harder thar


see where It was a very peculiar dance, and, as near as
Dorothy could make it out, consisted principally
hant,--he in the animals passing her along from one to
ceremonies, another as if they were each anxious to get rid
him as he of her; and presently she discovered that, in
with the some unaccountable manner, she had been
ly with his passed directly through the fireplace into the
next house; but as this house was quite as full of
in chorus, dancing animals as the other, this didn't help
1, who had matters much except that it got Sarah out of
:ad against the way-" and that," said poor little Dorothy
to herself, "is certainly
l something/.'"
SJust then the Elephant,
who had mysteriously ap-
-- peared from a pantry in
_one corer of the room,
shouted out, All cross
\ over!" and the animals
began to crowd out of the
front gateway and then to
'caper in great confusion
across the street and into
'", ''the house on the other side
of the way. Dorothy,
S, l watching her chance, hid
behind a large churn that
was standing conveniently
in the middle of the street;
.- :.= and when they had all
-passed in, she ran away
-- '- --- "*i-'a- : *'B
_- down the street as fast as
she could go.
S-:She ran on until she had
got quite out of the Ferry-
sulky ex- man's street, and was walking along in the open
country, feeling quite pleased with herself for
the Sheep, having so cleverly escaped from the dancing-
ther atten- party without having to take the trouble ofsay-
ime. She's ing Good-night" to the Elephant, when she
:her Camel saw in the moonlight something white lying
:urtle when beside the road, and going up to it, she dis-
covered it was a letter.
is to Hum-
el took her CHAPTER XII.
enough to
)ver." Be- THE CARAVAN COMES HOME.
*e about it, THE letter was lying on a flat stone, with
inge!" and several lumps of sugar laid on it like paper-
ever. weights to keep it from blowing away. It was n't


1892.]


--,- ----~--.
?-'- -- -






THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.


at all a nice-looking letter; in fact, it looked as
if it had been dragged over the ground for a
long distance; and Dorothy, after observing all
this, was just turning away when she chanced to
look at the address and saw that the letter was
intended for her. The address was written in a
very cramped little hand, and the writing was
crowded up into one corner as if it were trying
to get over the edge of the envelop; but the
words were TO DOROTHY," as plain as possible.
What a very strange thing !" she said to her-
self, taking up the letter and turning it over
several times rather distrustfully. I don't think
it looks very nice, but it may be something im-
portant, and I suppose I ought to read it"; and
saying this, she opened the letter. It was printed
in funny little letters something like bird-tracks,
and this was what was in it:
We are in a bad fix. The fix is a cage. We have been
seezed in a outburst of ungovernernable fury by Bob
Scarlet. He says there's been too many robbin pies. He
goes on and says he is going to have a girl pie. With
gravy. We shreeked out that we was n't girls. Only dis-
gized and tuff as anything. He says with a kurdlinglaff
we '11do. 0 save us. We wish we was home. There is
no male and we send this by a noble rat.
THE CARAVAN.
"That 's the most
ridiculous letter I ever "-
got!" said Dorothy, '.
gazing at it in blank '-'
astonishment; "and I "- '
don't think it's spelled
very well; but of course
I must go. I ought to
feel frightened, but I
really feel as brave as /
an ox. I suppose that's
because I 'm going to j
help the unfortunate";
and putting the letter
in her pocket, she
started off.
T' u- BY THIS TIME THEY WER
It's perfectly sur- HABY LY KT
prising," she said to her-
self as she ran along, the mischief they get into!
They 're really no more fit to be going about
alone than so many infants "; and she was so
pleased with herself for saying this that she
began to feel quite large and bold. "But it
was very clever of 'em to think of the rat," she


went on, "and of course that accounts for the
sugar. No one but a rat would ever have
thought of using sugar for paper-weights. If
I was n't afraid of a rat I 'd wish it had n't
gone away, though, for I have n't the slightest
idea where the Caravan is."
But it presently appeared that the noble rat
had arranged the whole matter for her; for as
Dorothy ran along she began to find lumps of
sugar set up at intervals like little mile-stones,
so that she should n't miss the road.
"It's precisely like Hop-o'-my-thumb,'" she
said, laughing to herself when she saw these,
" only better, because, you see, the birds can't
carry them off."
The rat, however, seemed to have had a very
roundabout idea of a road, for the lumps of
sugar were scattered zigzag in every direction,
and, at one place, led directly through a knot-
hole in a fence as if nobody could possibly have
any trouble in getting through that; but, as the
little mile-stones appeared again on the other
side of the fence, Dorothy scrambled over and
ran on. Then she found herself climbing over
rocks and wading through little puddles of water
where the sugar was set up on stones in the most


E RUNNING SO FAST THAT SHE COULD
EEP UP WITH THEM."


thoughtful way, so that it should n't melt; and
in another place the lumps were stuck up in a
line on the trunk of a large tree, and, after lead-
ing the way through a number of branches, sud-
denly descended on the opposite side of the
tree into a little bog, where Dorothy stuck fast


[MAY,






THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.


for several minutes and got her shoes very much
soiled. All this was very provoking, and she
was beginning to get a little out of patience,
when the lumps of sugar suddenly came to an
end at a little stone wall; and, looking over it,
she spied the Caravan in their cage.
The cage proved to be an enormous rat-trap,
and the Caravan, with remarkable presence of
mind, had put their legs through between the
wires at the bottom of it, and were walking
briskly along, holding up the cage with their
hands. The news of this extraordinary per-






J I,!1 1.1 1/a/'
'l ,/








-" -l




V._. '






"IT SLOWLY CHANGED TO A BIRD-CAGE WITH A ROBIN
SITTING IN IT." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
formance had evidently been spread abroad, as
the Ferryman and a number of serious-looking
storks were escorting the Caravan with an air
of great interest, and occasionally taking to
their heels when the Admiral chanced to look
at them through the wires with his spy-glass.
The Caravan seemed greatly mortified when
Dorothy appeared, and she saw that Sir Walter
was making a desperate attempt to hide some
little rattles in the corner of his shawl.


How did you ever get into this scrape? "
said Dorothy, rather impatiently.
"It was easy enough to get into," said the
Admiral; but it pricks us like anything when
we try to get out."
"And where did those come from?" said
Dorothy, pointing to the rattles.
They was in the cage," said the Admiral,
trying to look unconcerned. It 's what they
call a rattletrap, you know."
"And I suppose you went in to get them,
and got caught," said Dorothy, severely.
"We thought they were something to eat,"
"aid Sir Walter. in a rather shamefaced way.
TI,. :r ', -ecJ: in 'em, anyway," remarked
rh.: H.,i-1r. der. "You can hear 'em

S.nd where are you going now ?"
S:iid Dorothy; for by this time
,' they were running so fast
SI I that she could hardly keep
,' i / 1 up with them.
i: l i "We 're going to
I I1 l the Ferry," said the
I Admiral, and these
Pelicans are showing
us the way;" and as
She said this the whole
P.1 party hurried through
S a little archway and
came out at the water-
side.
S An old stage-coach
without any wheels was
----- floating close up against the
--- ~ river-bank, and quite a little
party of the dancing animals were
crowding aboard of it, pushing and
shoving one another, and all talking in the
most excited manner; and as Dorothy found
herself next to her old friend the Sheep, in the
crowd, she inquired anxiously, "Where are you
all going?"
"We don't know exactly," said the Sheep,
"but we 've all taken tickets to different places
so as to be sure of getting somewhere "; and with
this remark the Sheep disappeared in the crowd,
leaving Dorothy very much bewildered.
By this time the Caravan had, by great exer-
tions, climbed up on top of the coach and were


1892.]





THE ADMIRAL'S CARAVAN.


sitting there in the cage, as if it had been a
sort of cupola for purposes of observation; and,
indeed, the Admiral was already quite absorbed
in taking in various points of interest with his
glass. The storks meanwhile had crowded into
the coach after the animals, and had their heads
out through all the windows as if there were no
room for them inside. This gave the coach
somewhat the appearance of a large chicken-
coop with too many chickens in it; and as Doro-
thy did n't fancy a crowd, she climbed up on
the box. As she did so, Sarah, the Camel, put
her head out of the front window and, laying it
in Dorothy's lap, murmured, Good-evening,"
and went comfortably to sleep. The next mo-
ment the fiddles in the air began playing again
and the stage-coach sailed away.

Dorothy never knew exactly what happened
next, because everything was so confused. She
had an idea, however, that they were all singing
the Ferry Song, and that they had just got to a
new part, beginning -
"Itpours into picnics and swishes the dishes,"
when a terrible commotion began on top of the
coach, and she saw that Bob Scarlet had sud-
denly appeared inside the cage without his
waistcoat, and that the Caravan were frantically
squeezing themselves outbetween the wires. At
the same moment a loud roaring sound rose in
the air, and the quadrupeds and the storks began
jumping out of the windows in all directions.
Then the stage-coach began
to rock violently, and
she felt that it -
was about to-
roll over, and --
clutched at --
the neck of
the Camel -i
to save her- -
self; but the -


Camel had slipped away, and she found she
had hold of something like a soft cushion-
and the next moment the coach went over with
a loud crash.
Dorothy gave a little scream as the coach
went over, and then held her breath; but instead
of sousing into the water as she expected, she
came down on top of it with a hard bump, and
found herself sitting up on a carpeted floor.
For a moment the rat-trap, with Bob Scarlet
inside of it, seemed to be floating around in the
air like a wire balloon, and then, as she rubbed
her eyes and looked again, it slowly changed
into a bird-cage with a fat robin sitting in it on
a perch, and peering sharply at her sideways
with one of his bright little eyes;-and she
found she was sitting on the floor of the little
parlor of the Blue Admiral Inn, with her little
rocking-chair overturned beside her and the
cushion firmly clutched in her hand. And as
for the roaring sound in the air--why, Uncle
Porticle was fast asleep in his big arm-chair, with
his handkerchief spread over his face, and I
think it more than likely that he had something
to do with the sound.
Dorothy stared about for a moment, and then
jumped up and ran to the window. It was
snowing hard, and she saw through the driving
snowflakes that the Highlander and Sir Walter
Rosettes were standing on their pedestals, com-
placently watching the people hurrying by with
their Christmas parcels; and as for the Admi-
ral, he was standing on his
.:.: pedestal, with a little
pile of snow like a
__ -- ugar-loaf on
top of his hat,
and intently
gazing over
---- the street
1- through his
spy-glass.
THE END.
,1H

9 ;-;


!!






































"LADY LOFTY HAS HER CARRIAGE."






THE TELEPHONE.

BY ANNIE A. PRESTON.

S H, a rose and a pink have bloomed to-day!"
Said little lame Ruth to her mother.
"'' I watched them open, leaf by leaf;
i* And they nodded to each other,
As if there was something they wished to say-
S A secret, you know-and there was no way.

"And then a spider with wondrous skill-
You '11 hardly believe it, Mother-
Stretched a web from the pink to the rose,
So they could talk to each other.
And ever since then their heads are still,
For they say through their telephone what they will."












THE DISPUTED SHINNY MATCH.

By JAMES L. FORD.


FOR fully five minutes it looked as if there
was going to be a free fight. The boys were
gathered together in a little knot at the south
end of the playground, with shinnies in their
hands, and the whole field rang with their
excited shouts.
He was on our side, and had a perfect right
to play wherever he chose and whenever he
chose!" exclaimed Clemens.
"Play? Yes!" retorted Graham, "but he
had no right to hide himself away and then
pop out like a jack-in-the-box where no one was
looking for him. Supposing I dug a trench and
put three fellows in it ready to jump out as
soon as the ball came their way, would that be
shinny ?"
"Put your men wherever you like! We
don't care!" chimed in Dick English; "and if
you can win that way you're welcome to. We
won this game fair and square, and we '11 leave
it to anybody you choose, if you're not satis-
fied; but we 're not going to play it over again
or give in one inch."
"Play it over again?" cried Graham. "Who
wants to play it over again? Our house
would n't play a match of jackstraws with you
fellows after this day's performance. Every-
body knows that we won, and what 's more,
we 're going to give three cheers for the losers,
according to custom. Now then, fellows, three
cheers for the high-toned Hickories'!"
Three ironical yells were raised, and then,
with a Come along, fellows," Graham and his
side walked off, with the satisfaction of having
had the last word. The great match between
the two rival houses of Dr. McAllister's board-
ing-school was over; but the question, "Who
won?" has never to this day been satisfactorily
settled, for scarcely a week passes that the dis-
cussion does not break out afresh in the dormito-
ries or on the playground, though the subject
was long ago banished from the dinner-table by


Dr. McAllister, after he and his assistant teach-
ers had been bored by constant repetition of
its pros and cons.
There had always been, even before this
match, the fiercest rivalry between the Macs,"
or dwellers in Dr. McAllister's house, and the
" Hickories," as those who live in Mr. Sinclair's
house are called. There are twenty boys in Mr.
Sinclair's house and thirteen under the roof of
Dr. McAllister, but those who lodge with the
principal are larger and stronger than their rivals,
and make up in superior strength and agility
what they lack in numbers.
In base-ball, where numerical strength does
not count except in furnishing a contingent to
sit on the woodpile and howl encouragingly,
the Macs are invincible; but in shinny and
foot-ball the houses have been for some time
past pretty evenly matched when the full num-
bers of both are pitted one against the other.
The Hickories once beat the other house
at base-ball, and that was when they played
on a plan suggested by Dick English, which
was that the Hickories should have the priv-
ilege of assigning the members of the other
nine to whatever positions they chose. And,
the Macs having accepted this condition, Jerry
Clemens, the captain of the Hickories, put the
slow, ponderous Tom Acton behind the bat, and
sent lithe, active Dick Graham to molder,"
as he expressed it, at right field. Jack Dal-
ton, who could run like a deer, but had long
since earned the nickname of Butter-fingers,"
(and justly, too), was sent to first base, while fat,
lubberly Joe Harris played short-stop. The in-
efficiency of the disorganized nine was height-
ened, moreover, by the yells of derision which
went up from the audience on the woodpile at
every bad play; and the result was that for the
first time in the history of the school the Macs
were defeated at the game in which their su-
premacy had before been unquestioned. That






THE DISPUTED SHINNY MATCH.


was a funny match, as even the vanquished
players admitted; but when they sent a chal-
lenge to the Hickories to play a shinny match,-
first three goals in five,-it was generally under-
stood that this game would be a desperate and
hotly contested one, for the Macs felt a little
sore over their defeat and the accompanying
ridicule.
The challenge was placed in the hands of
Jerry Clemens on Friday evening, naming the
following afternoon as the time, and requesting
the honor of an early reply. Clemens read the
challenge to the Hickories gathered about him
in the common hall, or sitting-room, of Mr. Sin-
clair's house, and then asked, "What are we
going to do about it?"
"Why, play them, of course! exclaimed Dick
English. It won't do for the Sinclair House
to decline a fair and square challenge like that."
"Well, if we accept," said Clemens, "you 've
all got to turn up on the playground to-morrow
afternoon ready for business. The last time we
played them, there were three of you little sha-
vers who sneaked off and did n't play at all. No
wonder they licked us. Now I want to know,
before I send an answer over to Graham, how
many of you are going to play and how many
are going to spend the afternoon sitting around
the stove and trying to keep warm. If there's
any one here who's going to sneak off, let him
speak now."
No one answered for a moment, and then
Tommy Wines, a very small and chubby boy,
said timidly, "I 'm likely to be kept in to-
morrow afternoon; but I '11 try and get off so
as to play too."
Clemens looked down at the round, innocent
face and smiled broadly. "Well, Tommy," he
said, "I 'm glad to see that you 're ready to
sacrifice yourself on the altar of patriotism, and
I hope you won't come to grief through it.
Now is anybody else kept in? "
"No, there 's nobody but Tommy, and he
does n't count," exclaimed English; and so
Clemens wrote an acceptance to the challenge
and despatched two of the smaller boys with it
to Dick Graham's quarters in Dr. McAllister's
house.
It was Jerry Clemens who had previously won
for his housemates the name of Hickories," by


which they were commonly known. It was just
before a football match when Dick Graham said
to him: "How many fellows have you got on
your side?" And Clemens made answer: "An
even twenty, and they 're all as tough as hick-
ory." From that time forth the boys in Mr.
Sinclair's house were known as the Hickories,
and nobly did they strive in all athletic sports
to uphold their right to the title.
The game was called at three o'clock in the
afternoon; and at that hour Clemens saw the
entire strength of the Sinclair house assembled
on the playground, while Dick Graham mar-
shaled his full dozen of followers in battle
array. Clemens's goal was the fence beside the
school-house, and Graham's was the stone wall
that bounded the playground on the opposite
side.
Clemens, who was to lead off, placed the
ball a few feet in front of his goal, while the
Hickories stretched out in an eager line on
either side of him, ready to run as soon as the
ball was started. Graham's forces were scat-
tered over the field awaiting the onslaught. It
was an important moment, and every nerve was
strained to its highest point of tension.
"Are you all ready? called Clemens.
"All ready," answered Graham from his place
in the center of' the field; and then, while every
boy held his breath with suppressed excitement,
the captain of the Hickories raised his shinny
high above his head -
"Wines, you 're wanted immediately in the
school-room," cried Mr. Sinclair suddenly, from
his open window, and the uplifted shinny de-
scended gently to earth, while, amid a roar of
laughter in which both sides joined, Tommy
Wines ignominiously marched off to do pen-
ance in the school-room.
"Would you like to postpone the match till
some day when you can have all your good
men? asked Graham, ironically.
You '11 find out before we get through that
we've got plenty of good men left," retorted
Clemens; and they 're all as tough as hickory,
too," he added, as he once more raised his
shinny above his head. Are you all ready ?"
"All ready," and away went the ball, with
fifteen out of the nineteen Hickories flying after
it. Four remained to guard the goal.






THE DISPUTED SHINNY MATCH.


Dick Graham stopped the ball by jumping in
front of it. Then with a terrific blow he sent it
flying across the field past the goal-keepers and
through the palings of the fence.
"One goal for us!" he called, while the
Macs cheered with delight and the crestfallen
Hickories walked slowly back to their places.
"If you'dhad little Tommy standing against the
fence, he would have stopped the ball for you,"
said Dick Graham, tauntingly.
And now Jerry spread his
men out over the field, while
Graham put the ball on the
ground and called out, "Are
you ready?"
They were, and the ball
was sent flying into their
midst and was cleverly stop-
ped by Dick English. Dick
returned it, and in another
minute the two sides were
blended in a struggling,
shouting mob, while the
clash of sticks and yells of
" Shinny on your own side!" i
"Home with it!" "That's
a good one!" rent the air.
Twice Dick Graham suc- .
ceeded in forcing the ball .
almost up to the Hickory
goal, and twice it was stop-
ped by one of the goal-
keepers and sent flying into
the middle of the field, where
the opposing forces fell upon
it in fierce battle for suprem-
acy. At last Billy Durant,
a wiry, active lad, succeeded
in stealing the ball from
under the sticks of half a "THE HUMILIATIN
FROM T
dozen who were fighting for
it, and sent it obliquely across the field and
against the stone wall.
Tommy Wines, in solitary confinement in the
school-room, brightened up as the yells of the
victors were borne to his ears, and observed to
Mr. Sinclair, who was in charge of the room at
the time:
"That 's a goal for our side, sir."
"Why do you say our side?" queried Mr.


Sinclair; I don't see that I belong to either
side, and your own connection with the game
has certainly ceased."
"But it's your house against Dr. McAllis-
ter's," replied Wines, earnestly. "Those other
fellows made a big boast and we took 'em up.
They said this house was no good at shinny;
and Jerry Clemens and the rest of us said it
was the best house in the school, and we could



'a


G DEFEAT WAS VIEWED BY MR. SINCLAIR AND TOMMY
HE SCHOOL-ROOM WINDOW." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

prove it, too. So we would if we were n't short-
handed this afternoon."
"What do you mean by short-handed?"
asked Mr. Sinclair, putting aside his book and
walking over to the window.
Why, they've lost me, have n't they ?" said
Tommy. Mr. Sinclair made no reply, and after
a minute or two of silence the boy continued:
Please, Mr. Sinclair, may I sit nearer the win-


[MAY,


540






THE DISPUTED SHINNY MATCH.


dow ? The light is so bad here I can't see to
study my algebra."
The teacher smiled as he gave the desired
permission, and then opened the window and
stood looking out at the game. The fact that
the boys of his own house were playing against
their rivals had aroused his interest, and so he
continued standing with his back to his pupil,
and looking through the wide-open window--
for the afternoon was sunny and warm-at the
spirited contest.
L Remember, that's one goal each!" shouted
Clemens, as he raised his stick to open the third
game. This time the goal was won in less than
three minutes. Indeed the ball seemed to make
slow, steady progress from the moment Clemens
lifted it high in air with one of his strong, swing-
ing blows, until English, with a quick, cunning
stroke, snatched it away from Jack Dalton and
sent it spinning over the stone wall and out."
The effect of this second victory was to ren-
der the followers of Clemens so elated that they
attempted to repeat the same tactics in the next
goal, and were defeated by a swift, brilliant rush
on the part of Dalton, Graham, and Tom Acton,
who drove the ball through the ranks of the
Hickories and whirled it between two goal-
keepers, who were so astonished that they forgot
what their duties were till the loud bang of the
ball against the fence told them that the game
was lost.
The humiliating defeat was viewed by Mr. Sin-
clair and Tommy from the school-room window;
that is to say, Mr. Sinclair stood by the open
casement, gravely watching the game, and pur-
posely ignoring the fact that little Wines was
climbing on a desk in his eagerness to see the
match. The teacher did not care to make the
boy's captivity any more irksome than it was.
It was bad enough, he thought, to take him
away from the game, without depriving him of
the poor pleasure of watching it.
And now the last goal was to be contested.
Clemens placed the ball on the ground before
him, and then paused to offer a few words of
caution to his excited followers, who were stand-
ing in readiness to plunge into the thick of the
fray.
"Are you ready ? he shouted.
"Yes; hurry up replied Graham, and the


ball rose high in the air, and fell far out in the
field, in the very midst of the enemy.
"A beauty! "cried Wines excitedly; and then,
realizing where he was, he dropped precipitately
into his chair and bent over his geography with
a look of rapt attention. But Mr. Sinclair did
not turn round. He was smiling to himself at
the lad's enthusiasm, and besides, he was be-
coming interested, for were there not a score of
boys fighting their way across the playground
for the honor of the house which bore his
name ? It must have been a cold nature that
could look upon such a struggle unmoved.
They 're not keeping our goal as they ought
to," murmured Tommy; "and they '11 lose this
goal as they lost that other one. First thing
they know, the ball will go by those two sleepy-
heads and whack up against the fence, and then
where are we ?"
"You may be called upon soon for that
geography lesson, and then where will you be? "
rejoined the teacher in a warning voice, but
without turning his face from the window.
"I 'm just going to study it now, sir," said
little Tommy, briskly turning over the leaves of
his book, but hardly able to take his eyes from
the game outside.
There was silence for a moment or two.
Mr. Sinclair was watching the progress of the
game with the keenest interest. The ball was
over in the center of the field, buffeted to and
fro under the vigorous strokes of the shinny-
sticks. The goal was, no doubt, inefficiently
guarded; all the boys, with the exception of
the two "sleepy-heads," as Tommy called them,
being out in the field in wild pursuit of the fly-
ing ball. One skilful blow from a stick wielded
by a strong arm, and the game would be lost,
unless, indeed, Clemens should succeed in send-
ing it home this time.
But no. Graham has stopped it, and is pre-
paring for a deliberate blow, for none of the
Hickories can reach him in time to prevent it,
and the two sleepy-heads" will be sure to
tumble over each other in attempting to stop it.
Please, may I go for just a minute," says an
eager voice behind the teacher, and Mr. Sinclair
utters a short assent without turning his head.
The boy is "out" before Mr. Sinclair can
draw another breath- out through the window,


1892.]






THE DISPUTED SHINNY MATCH.


head over heels on the grass. He has caught
up a stick, and as the ball comes flying across
the field he throws himself in its path and it
strikes his plump body with a force that almost
takes his breath away. He has saved the goal
when it was within ten feet of being lost, and a
wild yell tells him that his quickness has been
appreciated. He knocks the ball to Dick Eng-


lish, who is coming in hot pursuit, English
knocks it to Clemens, and he in his turn sends it
home. The great match is over, and Tommy
Wines meekly returns to the school-room and
buries himself in his big geography, while the
playground rings with an excited discussion as
to which side won-a discussion which has
never been satisfactorily settled to this day.




A SAFE VEHICLE.

BY J. ELLIS JOY.

I HAVE traveled round the world,
Northward eighty-one degrees;
I have seen ice-mountains hurled
Into stormy, surging seas.
To the summit I 've ascended
Of the highest Alpine peak;
And one day my way I wended
From Ceylon to Mozambique.

I 've explored with learned sages
Parthenons and temples Doric;
And seen relics of the ages
That we call the prehistoric.
I 'm at home in Rome and Venice,
Paris, London, Aberdeen;
And I 've danced and played lawn-tennis
With the daughter of a queen.

I have seen the Arab manly
Entertaining in his tent;
Traveled all the way with Stanley
Through the darkest Continent;
Scaled those wondrous, storied cellars
In our own New Mexico,
Where the people called cliff-dwellers
Lived so many years ago.


Yet in all my journeys never
Have I suffered harm's attack;
Never coach or car whatever
That I boarded left the track.
Never was I vexed or daunted
At hotel or foreign station;
For the car in which I jaunted
Was my own imagination.


542









LE PETIT MARCHAND DE SUCRE D'ORGE.
(See frontispiece.)

BY HERMINIE H. MERRIAM.


VolcI l'heure de la r6cr6ation: les enfants
s'6chappent joyeusement de 1'6cole, et se pr6ci-
pitent au-devant du petit marchand qui ne
manque jamais le moment de la sortie.
C'est un enfant de dix a douze ans, vetu de
blanc, a la figure douce et avenante, portant
fi&rement son petit b6ret 6galement blanc et la
planchette suspendue a son cou.
Sa merchandise est soigneusement align6e sur
du paper blanc; ce sont les batons de sucre
d'orge, si chers aux petits Frangais. Il y en a
au citron, a l'orange, au chocolate, au caramel,
h la guimauve; ceux-ci blancs et fondants et
tourn6s en spirales. Un sou pour les petits,
deux pour les gros. Il est bien rare, qu'en par-
tant pour 1'6cole, l'enfant n'obtienne pas de sa
maman la pr6cieuse piece qui doit lui procurer
ce friend dessert apres son gofiter.
Le jeune marchand sert chacun k son tour,
recevant les sous dans sa petite boite, et enve-
loppant le bout de chaque baton de sucre d'orge
d'un morceau de paper, pour que ses jeunes
pratiques ne se poissent pas les doigts.
II ne d6daigne pas de faire honneur a sa mar-


chandise en goitant lui-m&me & 1'un de ses ba-
tons. De temps en temps, il l'Oloigne de ses
livres, en criant: "Sucre d'orge, sucre d'orge,
un sou et deux sous!"
Un coin de son tablier est relev6 et montre
ses culottes courts, ses bas bien tir6s et ses so-
lides souliers; car notre petit marchand doit
faire de longues courses parmi les 6coles du
quarter oi il trouve ses meilleurs chalands, et se
rendre le soir, aux abords des theatres fr6quent6s
par les ouvriers et leurs families, pour lesquels le
baton de sucre d'orge est un r6gal favor.
C'est sa mere, sans doute, une pauvre veuve,
qui confectionn.e chez elle son humble marchan-
dise. Son fourneau, toujours allum6, regoit le
melange d'eau d'orge et de sucre, qui, apres une
longue cuisson, est plac6 dans diff6rents r6cep-
tacles pour y &tre aromatis6 et travaill6, puis
form en batons qui doivent se refroidir et dur-
cir sur une plaque de marbre. La journme ter-
min6e, le petit marchand de sucre d'orge, s'il a
fait bonne vente, rentre tout joyeux au logis,
pour verser sur les genoux de sa mere le produit
de son commerce du jour.


ELIZABETH.

By AMOS R. WELLS.

I KNOW a little lady-such a very stately dame!
She 's queen of all the lassies, and Elizabeth's her name.
I also know a damsel made to romp with and caress;
So I keep a welcome ready for my darling little Bess.
And mother shows me working, just as quiet as a mouse,
A pleasant little girl named Beth, the helper of the house.
And sister shows me Lizzie, who goes with her to school,
Who sometimes gets a lesson, and sometimes breaks a rule.
I 'm acquainted with another child I 'd rather never see;
For this young girl, named Betsey, is as cross as she can be.
Now, would you ever guess it ? These five are but the same
Kaleidoscopic lassie! And Elizabeth's her name.
543









LE PETIT MARCHAND DE SUCRE D'ORGE.
(See frontispiece.)

BY HERMINIE H. MERRIAM.


VolcI l'heure de la r6cr6ation: les enfants
s'6chappent joyeusement de 1'6cole, et se pr6ci-
pitent au-devant du petit marchand qui ne
manque jamais le moment de la sortie.
C'est un enfant de dix a douze ans, vetu de
blanc, a la figure douce et avenante, portant
fi&rement son petit b6ret 6galement blanc et la
planchette suspendue a son cou.
Sa merchandise est soigneusement align6e sur
du paper blanc; ce sont les batons de sucre
d'orge, si chers aux petits Frangais. Il y en a
au citron, a l'orange, au chocolate, au caramel,
h la guimauve; ceux-ci blancs et fondants et
tourn6s en spirales. Un sou pour les petits,
deux pour les gros. Il est bien rare, qu'en par-
tant pour 1'6cole, l'enfant n'obtienne pas de sa
maman la pr6cieuse piece qui doit lui procurer
ce friend dessert apres son gofiter.
Le jeune marchand sert chacun k son tour,
recevant les sous dans sa petite boite, et enve-
loppant le bout de chaque baton de sucre d'orge
d'un morceau de paper, pour que ses jeunes
pratiques ne se poissent pas les doigts.
II ne d6daigne pas de faire honneur a sa mar-


chandise en goitant lui-m&me & 1'un de ses ba-
tons. De temps en temps, il l'Oloigne de ses
livres, en criant: "Sucre d'orge, sucre d'orge,
un sou et deux sous!"
Un coin de son tablier est relev6 et montre
ses culottes courts, ses bas bien tir6s et ses so-
lides souliers; car notre petit marchand doit
faire de longues courses parmi les 6coles du
quarter oi il trouve ses meilleurs chalands, et se
rendre le soir, aux abords des theatres fr6quent6s
par les ouvriers et leurs families, pour lesquels le
baton de sucre d'orge est un r6gal favor.
C'est sa mere, sans doute, une pauvre veuve,
qui confectionn.e chez elle son humble marchan-
dise. Son fourneau, toujours allum6, regoit le
melange d'eau d'orge et de sucre, qui, apres une
longue cuisson, est plac6 dans diff6rents r6cep-
tacles pour y &tre aromatis6 et travaill6, puis
form en batons qui doivent se refroidir et dur-
cir sur une plaque de marbre. La journme ter-
min6e, le petit marchand de sucre d'orge, s'il a
fait bonne vente, rentre tout joyeux au logis,
pour verser sur les genoux de sa mere le produit
de son commerce du jour.


ELIZABETH.

By AMOS R. WELLS.

I KNOW a little lady-such a very stately dame!
She 's queen of all the lassies, and Elizabeth's her name.
I also know a damsel made to romp with and caress;
So I keep a welcome ready for my darling little Bess.
And mother shows me working, just as quiet as a mouse,
A pleasant little girl named Beth, the helper of the house.
And sister shows me Lizzie, who goes with her to school,
Who sometimes gets a lesson, and sometimes breaks a rule.
I 'm acquainted with another child I 'd rather never see;
For this young girl, named Betsey, is as cross as she can be.
Now, would you ever guess it ? These five are but the same
Kaleidoscopic lassie! And Elizabeth's her name.
543















i i i







I -



















THE AXIS DEER.


LL


THE LIONERS


AT THE ZOO.
544


I-


I'F


\' f Ii-











WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS.


[Begun in the January number.]
CHAPTER VI.
JULIA WARD.
ONCE upon a time, in a great house standing
at the corner of Bond street and Broadway,
New York City, there lived a little girl. She
was named Julia, after her lovely young mo-
ther, but as she grew she showed no resem-
blance to that mother with her great dark eyes
and wealth of black ringlets. This little girl
had red hair, and that was a very dreadful thing
in those days. Very fine, soft hair it was, thick
and wavy, but-it was red. Visitors, coming to
see her mother, would shake their heads and
say, "Poor little Julia! what a pity she has red
hair and the tender mother would sigh, and
regret that her child should have this misfor-
tune, when there was no red hair in the family,
so far as one knew. And the beautiful hair was
combed with a leaden comb, as one old lady
said that would turn it dark, and it was soaked
in honey-water, as another old lady said that
was really the best thing you could do with it;
and the little Julia felt that she might almost
as well be a hunchback or a cripple as that un-
fortunate creature, a red-haired child.
When she was six years old, her beautiful
mother died; and after that Julia and her bro-
thers and sisters were brought up by their good
aunt, who came to make her home with them
and their father. A very good aunt she was,
and devoted to the motherless children; but
sometimes she did funny things. They went
out to drive every day-the children, I mean-
in a great yellow chariot lined with fine blue
cloth. Now, it occurred to their kind aunt
that it would have a charming effect if the chil-
dren were dressed to match the chariot. So
thought, so done! Dressmakers and milliners
plied their art; and one day Broadway was
electrified by the sight of the little Misses Ward,
seated in uneasy state on the blue cushions, clad
VOL. XIX. -35. 5


in wonderful raiment of yellow and blue. They
had blue pelisses and yellow satin bonnets, and
this was all very well for the two younger ones,
with their dark eyes and hair, and their rosy
cheeks; but Julia, young as she was, felt dimly
that blue and yellow was not the combination
to set off her tawny locks and exquisite sea-
shell complexion. It is not probable, however,
that she sorrowed deeply over the funny clothes,
for her mind was never set on clothes, either in
childhood or in later life. Did not her sister
meet her one day, coming home from school,
with one blue shoe and one green? Her mind
was full of beautiful thoughts, her eyes were
lifted to the green trees and the blue sky bend-
ing above them,-what did she care about
shoes? Yes; and, later, is it not recorded that
her sisters had great difficulty in persuading her
to choose the stuff for her wedding-gown ? So
indifferent was she to all matters of dress!
Auntie F. had her own ideas about shoes and
stockings-not the color, but the quality of them.
She did not believe in "pompeying" the chil-
dren; so in the coldest winter weather Julia and
her sisters went to school in their slippers and
white cotton stockings. You shiver at the bare
thought of this, my girl readers! You look at
your comfortable leggings and overshoes (that
is, if you live in upper New England, or any-
where in the same latitude), and wonder how
the Ward children lived through such a course
of "hardening." But they did live, and Julia
Ward seems now far younger and stronger than
any of her children.
School, which some children regard with
mingled feelings (or so I have been told), was
a delight to Julia. She grasped at knowledge
with both hands: plucked it as a little child
plucks flowers, with unwearying enjoyment.
Her teachers, like the "people" in the case of
the
Young lady whose eyes
Were unique as to color and size,






WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.


all turned aside, and started away in surprise,
as this little red-haired girl went on learning,
and learning, and learning. At nine years old
she was studying Paley's Moral Philosophy,"
with girls of sixteen and eighteen. She could
not have been older when she heard a class
reciting an Italian lesson, and fell in love with
the melodious language. She listened, and lis-
tened again; then got a grammar and studied
secretly; and one day handed to the aston-
ished Italian teacher a letter, correctly written
in Italian, begging that she might join the class.
Will you kindly consider these things, dear girls ?
When I was speaking of the good aunt who
was a second mother to the Ward children, I
meant to say a word of the stern but devoted
father who was the principal figure in Julia's
early life. She says of him, "He was a ma-
jestic person, of somewhat severe aspect and
reserved manners, but with a vein of true geni-
ality, and great benevolence of heart." And
she adds: "His great gravity, and the absence
of a mother, naturally subdued the tone of
the whole household; and though a greatly
cherished set of children, we were not a very
merry. one."
Still, with all his gravity, Grandfather Ward
had his gleams of fun occasionally. It is told
that Julia had a habit of dropping off her slip-
pers while at table. One day her father felt a
wandering shell of kid, with no foot to keep it
steady. He put his own foot on it and moved
it under his chair, then said in his deep, grave
voice, "My daughter, will you bring me my
seals, which I have left on the table in my
room?" And poor Julia, after a vain and frantic
hunting with both feet, was forced to go, crim-
son-cheeked, white-stockinged, and slipperless,
on the required errand. She would never have
dreamed of asking for the shoe. She was the
eldest daughter, the companion and joy of this
sternly loving father. She always sat next him
at table, and sometimes he would take her
right hand in his left, and hold it for many
minutes together, continuing to eat his dinner
with his right hand; while she would rather go
dinnerless than ask him to release her own
fingers.
Grandfather Ward! It is a relief to confess
our faults; and it may be my duty to say that,


as soon as I could reach it on tiptoe, it was my
joy to pull the nose of his marble bust, which
stood in the great dining-room at Green Peace.
It was a fine, smooth, long nose, most pleasant
to pull; I fear I got it soiled sometimes with my
little grimy fingers. I trust children never do
such naughty things nowadays.
Then there was Great-grandfather Ward,
Julia's grandfather, who had the cradle and the
great round spectacles. Doubtless he had many
other things besides, for he was a substantial New
York merchant; but the cradle and the spec-
tacles are the only possessions of his that I have
seen. I have the cradle now, and I can testify
that Great-grandfather Ward (for I believe he
was rocked in it, as his descendants for four
generations since have been) must have been an
extremely long baby. It is a fine old affair, of
solid mahogany, and was evidently built to last
as long as the Wards should last. Not so very
long ago, two dear people who had been rocked
together in that cradle fifty--or is it sixty?-
years ago, sat down and-clasped hands over it,
and wept for pure love and tenderness and "leal
souvenir." Not less pleasant is its present use as
the good ship "Pinafore," when six rosy, shout-
ing children tumble into it and rock violently,
singing with might and main, We sail the ocean
blue, and our saucy ship 's a beauty That is
all about the cradle.
My mother writes thus of Great-grandfather
Ward, her own grandfather:
He had been a Lieutenant-Colonel in the war of
American Independence. A letter from the Commander-
in-Chief to Governor Samuel Ward (of Rhode Island)
mentions a visit from your son, a tall young man
of soldierly aspect." I cannot quote the exact words.
My Grandfather had seen service in Arnold's march
through "the wilderness to Quebec. He was present
at the battle of Red Bank. After the close of the war
he engaged in commercial pursuits, and made a voyage
to India as supercargo of a merchant vessel belonging
to Moses Brown, of Providence. He was in Paris at
the time of the King's death (Louis 16th) and for some
time before that tragic event. He speaks in his journal
of having met several of the leading revolutionists of
that time at a friend's house, and characterizes them as
"exceeding plain men, but very zealous." He passed
the day of the King's execution, which he calls one of
horror," in Versailles, and was grieved at the conduct of
several Americans who not only remained in town,
but also attended the execution. When he finally left
Paris, a proscribed nobleman, disguised as a footman,


546


[MAY,






WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.


547


accompanied the carriage, and so cheated the guillotine
of one expected victim.
Colonel Ward, as my grandfather was always called,
was a graduate of Brown University, and a man of
scholarly tastes. He possessed a diamond edition of
Latin classics which always went with him in his cam-
paigns, and which is still preserved in the family. In
matters of art he was not so well posted. Of the pictures
in the gallery of the Luxembourg he remarks in his
diary: "The old pictures are considered the best, I
cannot think why."
I remember him as very tall, stooping a little, with
white hair and mild blue eyes, which matched well his
composed speech and manners.
I have called Great-grandfather Ward a mer-
chant, but he was far more than that. The
son of Governor Ward of Rhode Island, he was
only eighteen when, as a gallant young captain,
he marched his company to the siege of Bos-
ton; and then (as his grandson writes me to-
day) he "marched through the wilderness of
Maine, through snow and ice, barefoot, to Que-
bec." Some of my readers may pos-
sess an engraving of Trumbull's .
famous painting of the "Attack on
Quebec." Look in the left-hand
corner, and you will see a group of
three, one of them a young, active
figure with flashing eyes--that is
Great-grandfather Ward. He rose to
be Major, then Lieutenant-Colonel;
was at Peekskill, Valley Forge, and
Red Bank, and wrote the official ac-
count of the last-named battle, which
may be found in Washington's corre-
spondence. Besides being a good
man and a brave soldier, he was a
very good grandfather; and this made
it all the more naughty for his grand-
daughter Julia to behave as she did
one day. Being then a little child,
she sat down at the piano, placed a
music-book on the rack, andbegan
to pound and thump on the keys,
making the hideous discord which seems always
to afford pleasure to the young. Her grand-
father was sitting by, book in hand; and after
enduring the noise for some time patiently, he
said in his kind, courtly way, Is it so set down
in the book, my dear? "
"Yes, Grandpapa!" said naughty Julia, and
went on banging, while grandpapa, who made no


pretense of being a musician, offered no further
comment or remonstrance.
Julia grew up, a student and a dreamer. She
confesses to having been an extremely absent
person, and much of the time unconscious of
what passed around her. "In the large rooms
of my father's house," she says, "I walked up
and down, perpetually alone, dreaming of ex-
traordinary things that I should see and do. I
now began to read Shakspere and Byron, and
to try my hand at poems and plays." She re-
joices that none of the productions of this
period was published, and adds, "I regard it
as a piece of great good fortune, for a little
praise or a little censure would have been a
much more disturbing element in those days
than in these." I wish these sentiments were
more general with young writers.
Still, life was not all study and dreaming.
There were sometimes merrymakings; witness


JULIA WARD HOWE AND HER BROTHERS, AS CHILDREN.
(FROM A MINIATURE BY MISS ANNE HALL.)

the gay ball after which Julia wrote to her
brother: "I have been through the burning
fiery furnace; and I am Sad-rake, Me-sick, and
Abed-no-go." There was mischief, too, and
sometimes downright naughtiness. Who was
the poor gentleman, an intimate friend of the
family, from whom Julia and her sisters ex-
tracted a promise that he would eat nothing for


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WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.


three days but what they should send him, they
in return promising three meals a day? He
consented, innocently thinking that these dear
young creatures wanted to display their skill in
cookery, and expecting all kinds of delicacies
and airy dainties of pastry and confectionery.
Yes! and being a man of his word, he lived for
three whole days on gruel, of which those dear
young creatures sent him a bowl at morning,
noon, and night; and on nothing else.
In a certain little cabinet where many pre-
cious things are kept, I have a manuscript poem,
written by Julia Ward for the amusement of her
brothers and sisters, when she was still a very
young girl. It is called "The Ill-cut Mantell,
a Romaunt of the time of Kynge Arthur." The
story is an old one, but the telling of it was all
Julia's own, and I must quote a few lines:

I cannot well describe in rhyme
The female toilet of that time.
I do not know how trains were carried,
How single ladies dressed, or married,
If caps were proper at a ball,
Or even if caps were worn'at all;
If robes were made of crape or tulle,
If skirts were narrow, gored, or full.
Perhaps, without consulting grace,
The hair was scraped back from the face,
While on the head a mountain rose,
Crowned, like Mont Blanc, with endless snows.
It may be that the locks were shorn;
It may be that the lofty puff,
The stomacher, the rising ruff,
The bodice or the veil were worn.
Perhaps mantillas were the passion,
Perhaps ferronieres were in fashion,
I cannot, and I will not tell.
But this one thing I wot full well,
That every lady there was dressed
In what she thought became her best.
All further notices, I grieve,
I must to your imagination leave.

Julia sometimes tried to awaken in her sisters'
minds the poetic aspirations which filled her
own. One day she found the two little girls
playing some childish game which seemed to
her unnecessarily frivolous. (You all know, I
am sure, the elder sister's motto,
Good advice and counsel sage,
And I never did so when I was your age ";


and the companion sentiment of the younger
sister,
"Sister, don't! and "Sister, do! "
And Why may not I as well as you ? ")
Miss Ward-- she was always called Miss Ward,
poor little dear and her dolls taken away from
her when she was only nine years old, that she
might better feel the dignity of her position! -
Miss Ward rebuked the little sisters, and bade
them lay aside their foolish toys, and improve
their minds by composing poetry. Louise
shook her black curls, and would not-- ore-
over, did not, being herself a child of some firm-
ness. But little sweet Annie would try, to please
Sister Julia; and after much thought and labor
she produced the following pious effusion:
He feeds the ravens when they call,
And stands them in a pleasant hall.

I never can recall these lines without having an
instant vision of a pillared hall, fair and stately,
with ravens standing in niches along the sides,
between the marble columns.
So this maiden, Julia, grew up to woman-
hood, dreamy and absent, absorbed in severe
study and composition, yet always ready with
the brilliant flashes of her wit, which broke like
sunbeams through the mist of dreams. She
was very fair to look upon. No one now pitied
her for the glorious crown of red-gold hair,
which set off the rose and ivory of her match-
less complexion; every one recognized and ac-
knowledged in her, stately Julia, queen of all."
Once, while on a visit to Boston, Julia heard
the wonderful story of Laura Bridgman, who had
just been led out of darkness into the light of life
and joy by a certain Dr. Howe, a man of whom
people spoke as a modern paladin of romance,
a Roland or Bayard. She saw him, and felt at
once that he was the most remarkable man she
had ever known.; He, on his part, saw a youth-
ful prophetess, radiant and inspired, crowned
with golden hair. Acquaintance ripened into
friendship, friendship into love; and so it hap-
pened that, in the year 1843, Samuel G. Howe
and Julia Ward were married. The next chap-
ter shall tell you of Julia Ward Howe as we, her
children, have known her.


(To be continued.)


548






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"LAUGH A LITTLE BIT."

BY J. EDMUND V. COOKE.


HERE 's a motto, just your fit:
" Laugh a little bit."
When you think you're trouble-hit,
"Laugh a little bit."
Look Misfortune in the face,
Brave the beldam's rude grimace;
Ten to one 't will yield its place
If you have the grit and wit
Just to laugh a little bit.

Keep your face with sunshine lit; -
"Laugh a little bit."


Gloomy shadows off will flit
If you have the wit and grit
Just to laugh a little bit.

Cherish this as sacred writ:
"Laugh a little bit."
Keep it with you, sample it;-
"Laugh a little bit."
Little ills will sure betide you,
Fortune may not sit beside you,
Men may mock and Fame deride you,
But you '11 mind them not a whit
If you laugh a little bit.


SPINNING IN THE SUNSHINE.
550









S A CASE OF

I-HIGHWAY ROBBERY


* i _


a.icL a t o his 3sons,
I sho-Lld. ce-m
This blithee Pioruo,-O-Boo-Boy The Sc-,r
c-rrizal -rez>m. -
- Le us give him i score-, -
So h&'ll levE l ritgll thzr" -z
This -will Szo-w Ete sucl-ss
of his S1e-m .-


-- fit--
CCY
bP;eoZ .







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT..


JACK-IN-THE- PULPIT.


HERE comes May- the sweetest, loveliest month
of the entire twelve, excepting those that when they
arrive turn out to be just as sweet and lovely!
This is to be blossom-time in earnest, my hearers,
blossom-time overhead, blossom-time underfoot,
blossom-time in our hearts, and blossom-time in -
in-in,-well, in our intentions; for you see I
have a plan to propose. In a word, I am going to
ask you to
PLANT SOMETHING.
Yes, your Jack wishes every and each one of you,
my young friends, to plant something this spring-
plant something, however small, and care for it and
watch its development. It may be that many of you
have gardens connected with your homes, or even
hothouses and conservatories. So much the better
ifyouenjoythem. Butthatis not quite it. I should
like to know that this year every boy and girl in
America-if only in honor of grand old Columbus
-has started something growing on American
soil-a shrub, a vine, a tree. It may be started
from the seed, or from a cutting, or in any well-
advised way,- possibly in early May, or later, but
let it be something that will live and grow.
And when autumn comes, please let your Jack
hear from you in regard to the matter.

MEANWHILE here is a letter concerning
DOG-TALK.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I am a country boy.
We have two dogs, Umslopogas and Webster."
One day Umslopogas was in the woods and came to the
house. Web ran out and began to bark at him; but
Umps only wagged his tail and the two trotted back to
the woods together.
I think that Umps told Web that he had something
worth seeing in the woods.
Yours, dear Jack,
CLARENDON J- .


DID you ever hear a robin singing among the
cherry-blossoms ? Your friend Thomas C. Collier
not only has heard the song, but he understands
it perfectly-as this translation of it, which he has
written for you, prettily testifies:
A SPRING CATCH.
OH, the cherries, cherries, cherries,
And the ripe strawberries,
Where are they?
Lo, these snowy blossoms hold them,
So that sun and dew can mold them
In the May.

And when June shall bring completeness
To their rounded crimson sweetness,
Then my share
Will all be gathered duly;
For I'll not forget them, truly,-
Berries, berries; cherries, cherries;
Ripe and rare.
LIVE OYSTERS IN THE HOUSE.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : Years ago, a family lived
on a farm in a little country town, where there was
no railroad, and the nearest city was a number of miles
distant.
The father was very fond of oysters, and how do you
suppose he managed to have some always at hand ?
He would drive to the nearest city, buy a bushel of
" real live ones, and bring them back home with him.
But that was not all. They were then carefully, placed
in rows along the cellar floor, where it was rather dark
and cool, and a little damp. The most interesting part,
however, was to keep them alive. Every little while
some one would go "down-cellar" and feed them by
sprinkling them with meal and with water. One of the
little girls in the family, who is now grown up, says she
can remember how the oysters closed their shells with a
snap after they were fed; but perhaps that was only in
her imagination. Anyway, if they happened to be for-
gotten for a time, they would be found patiently waiting
with their shells open, ready to receive their next meal!
By the way, nearly all of us have heard the saying that
oysters are good to eat only during the months which
have an R in their name, but who knows when that
idea first originated? It was mentioned in a book called
" Dyet's Dry Dinner," printed in 1599. We are not so
very much brighter than our ancestors, after all, are we ?
LOUISE B--

THE Deacon says it is to be hoped, for the poor
oysters' sake, that this man's cellar was very damp
indeed, though for the health of the family it
hardly could have been too dry. He asks, too,
why could not the oysters have been kept in a com-
fortable tank, properly supplied with mud and
water and genuine sea-salt" ? Indeed, it is pos-
sible that he is not strictly pleased with this inland
father for keeping oysters in his down-cellar, half-
fed way. What wonder that their shells often stood
pathetically open! Yet the father had his oysters.
WHICH P
MY hearers which would you prefer to resem-
ble -the fellow who, having traveled once around
the earth, declared there was nothing more for him
to learn, or the Frenchman who said, Life is too
short to enable me thoroughly to study all the
wonders in a square foot of meadow-land ?


[MAY,





JACK-IN-TH-PULPIT.
JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


"BE QUICK, MY LAD!"
A HAWK flies at the rate of one hundred and
fifty miles an hour.
Well, well. That does not at all remind us of a
small boy going on an errand. Does it now?

CLOVER FOR FOOD.
OAKLAND, CAL.
DEAR JACK: I cannot tell you anything new about
the appearance of the red and white clover, but I can tell
you something about the different uses of it.
The red clover is used by the Dakota Indians as an
article of food. They pound the seed until it becomes
a mere pulp, and then they mix it with onions and bake
it like a cake.
The same clover is used also as a sort of salad.
Your interested listener, HARRIET E. G- .

BIRDS IN TIERS.
DEAR JACK: Three tiers of brilliantly colored little
birds was one of the many pretty sights I often saw
in the bird-market in Paris. To lighten his burden, the
owner of these pretty songsters had placed a great many
of them into one large cage. The cage had but a single
perch- a long one, to be sure, yet at best it could hold only
one third of the birds. As you may suppose, all places
on this perch were always in great demand, and usually
its whole length was fully occupied by the tiny warblers,
crowded together in jolly companionship. Flying about
the cage in all directions were those not fortunate enough
to secure seats," and their antics in endeavoring to find a
resting-place were very pretty and clever. Alighting on
the seated ones, they would wedge their tiny feet between
two of them in an attempt to reach the perch; and some-
times they succeeded; but more often a second tier of
birds was started by the new-comers coolly getting upon
the backs of the first. A slight disturbance of the center
of gravity, however, and all would come tumbling down.
Then there would be great commotion and a perfect
medley of color, as the birds rushed again, pell-mell, for


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the coveted places. Presently quiet would be restored,
and the two tiers of birds again successfully completed.
But there were still others flying about, or hopping
around on the bottom of the cage, who also expected to
get resting-places. To perch on top of the second tier
was indeed a very pretty and a very difficult performance,
as there was considerable wobbling in the lower tiers,
even at the lightest touch of a hovering bird. Finally,
with dainty wings and feet outstretched in slow descent,
a bright little acrobat would start the third tier. But
alas I the next bird might prove a careless little fellow,
and would upset them all.
However, in spite of accidents and carelessness, the
third tier was often finished, and sometimes.it lasted even
several minutes before it was demolished. But when
the pyramid was completed, usually some hungry little
chap in the first story, spying a dainty morsel lying on the
bottom of the cage, would withdraw his support, to the
disaster and confusion of the crowd.
Thus it went on, all day long--incessant change of
place and form and color. Happily through it all the
little acrobats were as merry as birds could be, pouring
out their liquid music into the golden sunshine, joyously
twisting and shaking their bright little heads. The grand
music of old Notre Dame Cathedral, close by, was not
more charming than that of this pretty feathery choir sing-
ing under the kind inspiration of a soft June sky.
MEREDITH NUGENT.
RED DOG-TOOTH VIOLETSP
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR JACK: Last spring I found two dark-red dog-
tooth violets growing in a damp wood in the eastern
part of New York State.
Were they merely a freak of nature, or is there a red
species ? 0. M. L.

THERE are no dog-tooth violets near my pulpit,
red or otherwise; but I am told that hosts of fine
yellow ones come up every spring in the woods
yonder! Have any of you, my children, ever
found any dark-red dog-tooth violets?


*:~



6~I I


BIRDS IN TIERS.





















SAID the first little mouse, We 've no cheese for tea."
Said the second, Oh, what shall we do ?"
Said the third, "I '11 creep up the stairs and see
If the hole in the cupboard is through;

"For there 's plenty of crackers and cheese on the shelf,
And Betty the cook has gone out;
And if I can get in, I can help myself
To enough for us all, no doubt."

"Oh, I will go too!" said the first, with a squeak.
"And I!" said the second. Oh, dear!
I hope," said the third, "the old cat is asleep;
Her claws are most dreadful, I hear!"

"Nothing risked, nothing gained," cried all in one voice;
So upstairs they scampered in glee;
But, like old Mother Hubbard's, the cupboard
was bare,
And not even a bone could they see.

" Oh, here are three holes," said the first little .
mouse; .
"Let 's peep in and see what we find there."
Snip, snap, snip !-all was still in the dreary
old house,
And the three little mice were-where?

In the clutch of an enemy worse than a cat
Their three little heads were caught,
While just within reach were the tidbits of cheese
Which they had so eagerly sought.

And when Betty the cook came down in the dawn
And opened the cupboard door,
There were three little tails sticking straight from the trap,
But the three little mice were no more.
554














THE LETTER-BOX.


EDITORIAL NOTE.

A TRANSLATION of the story, "Le Petit Marclhand de
Sucre d'Org-e," in this number, will soon be published in
ST. NICHOLAS. Meanwhile young scholars will enjoy
reading the story in French.

FAXON, MINN.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and
live in the western part of Minnesota, on a farm by the
banks of the Minnesota River. My only glimpse of the
outside world is ST. NICHOLAS, and I wait for it every
month, and like the stories very much. I have a great
many pets, such as lambs, birds, and a good many others.
I have been taking ST. NICHOLAS for three years, and
have found much pleasure in reading the other little
folks' letters. I wish you as much pleasure as ST.
N~tleri le H OnL binr s- ntlo r litt-l. fl-;pnrl


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little g
in Mexico City three years. There
things here, and we do not speak the s
do, but we like to read the ST. NICHO
There are many feast-days here; to-
the Epiphany. A sister of my French t
morning such a nice story about this d
write it for you. It is a Russian legend 1
men were on their way with gifts for th
passed the cottage of an old woman, w
wait for her to tidy her rooms, and s
them; but they would not. After shi
work she followed, but never overtook
been wandering over the world ever s:
the child Jesus; and this night ever:
gifts to sleeping children all over the
may be among them.
Hi
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am in the h
Punahou Preparatory School. Punal
lege is the best school on the islands;
the leading schools in America. Ne)
to the college. I take arithmetic, grain
waiian geography, reading, spelling,
ing, and music.
I have just formed a foot-ball tea
center-rusher. We play by the Ameri
rules.
The boys of this city are very large f(
are strong and active, are good riders,
years old can stick on a bucking colt.
Your reader,


THE GRANGE, AS]
WICKLOW,
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have take
zine since 1885, and we like it awfully
every day in the summer, and like it v
swim and dive, and are quite at home


love riding, and each of us has an Arabian horse (such
beauties !); Una's is called" Sir Roger," and mine" Star-
light." We have followed the hounds several times with
Uncle Kenneth, and enjoy hunting very much, but we
always leave before the finish, as we cannot bear to see
the fox killed.
A river flows through our estate, and we boat a good
deal. One day our boat was upset, and we, being caught
in the current, were rapidly drifting into a whirlpool
called the Witches' Cauldron; but, thanks to our swim-
ming powers, and to the assistance of a rope thrown by
one of our boy cousins, we reached the bank safely.
We are twins, fourteen years old, and go to school in
Germany; we are home for the holidays now. Good-by.
UNA AND PEGGY.


THE AQUARIUM.


KITTY W- THE aquarium is a wonderfully useful pleasure. It is
a source of amusement and also one of observation. The
MEXICO CITY. other day I bought a large iron-tipped aquarium, and I
irl, and have lived also bought with it some lizards, some goldfish (which
are many curious die very easily), some silverfish, some eels, and as a gift
ame language you received two polliwogs. I also bought some little rock-
LAS all the same. fish, besides a rock-house and aquatic plants. To have
day is the feast of an aquarium one must have a few aquatic plants in the
teacher told me this water, to purify it. It is also advisable to buy a box of
ay. I think I will fish-food; and, above all things, do not put in any worms;
that when the wise for if you do, they will make the water become impure,
e child Jesus, they and the fish will die. There is another thing: Never feed
ho begged them to the fish more than three times a week. There are
he would go with few silverfish in my aquarium; I did not put many in,
e had finished her because they die so easily; and if you touch them they
them. So she has are almost sure to die. If aboy of my age (ten) does not
since, trying to find want to keep fish that die so easily, let him buy a, say,
y year she brings thirty-inch bowl; in this he can keep some very small
world, hoping he bullheads and eels. Perhaps you want to keep turtles;
HALLIE H- to do this one should get a large tin pan used for wash-
ing dishes. With turtles the water should be changed
ONOLULU, H. I. every other day. Turtles may be fed on flies and
highest class in the worms; but never buy them large (not larger than a
iou or Oahu Col- twenty-five-cent piece), and never forget to let them be
its graduates go to able to climb out of water. An aquarium is useful in
it year I am going this way: It will teach reckless boys to study the beauties
nmar, history, Ha- of nature. I have learned the character of the eels.
penmanship, draw- Their chief trait is that they will sometimes lie motion-
Sless for twenty-four hours. On the contrary, the gold-
m, in which I am fish or silverfish are (almost) always in motion; at all
can intercollegiate hours you can see them swimming around. For three
dollars one can buy a beautiful large aquarium, and for
or theirage. They another dollar you can stock it with fish, plants, and a
and when sixteen rock-house. ALFRED F. E- .

ALLAN J-. AURORA, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American boy,
eight years old. My kitty's name is "Major." My papa
makes fun of him. Kitty comes up-stairs and plays with
HFORD, COUNTY me through the spindles on the side of my bed, in the
IRELAND. morning. He pushes at the door, and if he can't get in
en your jolly maga- he calls "Miew,miew." Then I say, Push, kitty; push
.We bathe twice hard." Then he tries again, and gets in.
ery much; we can I like your magazine very much.
in the water. We Yours truly, DUDLEY R. H- .






THE LETTER-BOX.


BALTIMORE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought some of your con-
gregation might like to know of a very nice sort of a
party which we had the other day. It is called a "Hunt-
ing Party." About thirty-five children came. We gotabout
a hundred and fifty bundles, which we hid in every imagi-
nable place. When the children came, mama gave them
each a paper bag, such as grocers use to put their bun-
dles in. We blew a horn and off they went to look for
the things we had hidden.
We gave a prize to the girl who got the most, and to
the boy who got the most. It was great fun, as any one
who tries it will find.
Your devoted reader, JULIA J- .


*U. S. RECEIVING SHIP WABASH,"
NAVY YARD, CHARLESTON, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on the receiving ship at
Boston Navy Yard. It is lovely, for we see the ocean
steamers come in. Every Sunday I see inspection. My
papa is a naval officer.
I have been sick and will not go to school for a long
time. We have to go over to the yard in a scow, for the
ship is anchored out from the land. It is pleasant to
watch the marines drill at the barracks, in the yard. I
am eleven years old. Good-by. ANNIE O'K-.


MANCHESTER, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two friends, and we
have taken you for a long time, and like you very much.
We do not live right in the town of Manchester, and
not far from us there is lovely country. There are some
very fine buildings in the town, especially the Town Hall,
the clock of which you can hear striking more than four
miles away! We have also some very good concerts
every winter, given by Sir Charles Halle. Nearly every-
body here goes to hear them, and we sometimes go our-
selves and enjoy them very much, as we are both very
fond of music. We suppose that you are all going wild
over Paderewski in the same way as we did when he was
here, and we envy you very much hearing him.
We very seldom have any skating, but last year there
was a long and hard frost, and we enjoyed the unwonted
luxury.
We like reading the stories about England very much;
it is very interesting to hear what you Americans think
about England.
Wishing you continued success, we remain your inter-
ested readers, M. S. AND F. M.

NEW YORK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like all your stories very
much, but the ones I like the best are those about horses
and their riders, as I love them, and have ridden all my
life, and like anything about horses.
I go to school in the country, and every afternoon that
I can I go out in the pony-cart with an old pony which
has been in the family about twelve years, and is about
twenty years old. So you see we are very much attached
to her, and would not part with her for anything. She
seems to grow younger and go better every year. In
the summer I have, a saddle-horse, and have fine times
riding with my friends. In winter it is too cold to ride
in the country, but in the city it is very nice.
I am your faithful reader, I. M. G.


TORONTO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have a horse called "Billy."
One day when he was in the stable he managed to get his


halter off; the stable door was open, and he came out and
started away down the street; afterward he got running
down the principal streets; we could not catch him be-
cause every time that we would get near him he would kick
up his legs and run; so we gave it up, knowing that he
would come back. And at dinner-time he did come back
and went into his stable. I suppose he wanted his din-
ner, but he had to wait till tea-time before he got anything.
I remain your interested reader, JOHN K- .

YONKERS, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I received you this morning,
and have just finished reading "The Letter-box."
I have been wanting to write to you for a long time, but
have been unable to do so before, as I have been very
ill for over three months, unable to move any part of my
body except my hands and arms.
Papa has given you to me, bound, for the last two
Christmases, and this year he subscribed for you. Of
course you can imagine how much I enjoy you, espe-
cially now, when I am ill and unable to walk. You give
me many pleasant moments, dear old ST. NICK, and
I hope I shall never have to part with you. When I am
well I go to school. One of your many admirers,
DORA S. H-


MONTREUX, SWITZERLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American girl, but
am spending the winter in Montreux. I go to a French
school, where only two other American girls go beside
myself.
The people here speak all sorts of languages, and it is
very difficult to understand them sometimes.
My cousin has a pretty little puppy, about seven
months old; his name is "Budge." When he was about
five months old, he learned to sit up in the corner and beg;
he does several cunning little things; if we hide the hand-
kerchief or spool, and tell him to find it, he will go snuff-
ing about until he finds it, and sometimes he will hide
it himself and make us find it.
Montreux is on Lake Geneva, and we always have a
lovely view of the lake.
Your devoted reader, M. E. L.


KENILWORTH, VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking your delight-
ful magazine for seven years. I live on the old battle-
field of Winchester, in a house built more than a hundred
years ago, which was headquarters for both armies. I
have often found relics of the war, among them a saber,
bullets, and other things.
I am twelve years old, I ride on horseback to Winches-
ter to school every day. I ride five miles there and five
back. I have two little brothers, Murroy and Neville.
We have nice times together with our boat on the pond.
Your loving reader, JACK S-


NICE, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you what a lovely
place we are in, where winter is summer, and where the
flowers always bloom and the sun always shines. Here, in
Nice, although in midwinter, the air is as deliciously soft
and balmy as on an American June day. Our garden,
which surrounds our chateau, situated on the hillside, com-
manding a magnificent view, is full of tropical plants,
palms, and aloes, and is a constant delight. The eucalyp-
tus-trees and century-plants tower upward, tall and stately,
while the large orange-orchard stretches away to the left.
We make a great number of excursions, and yesterday


[MAY,






1892.] THE LET

we went to Cimiez to see the ruins of a Roman amphi-
theater. I am devoted to the French people, and my
brother and I both know the language well. We have
traveled a great deal in Europe-in England, Germany,
Italy, Switzerland, and France. We know and love "la
belle France" the best of all. We lived six months in
Paris, and saw all its interesting sights, and mounted the
Eiffel Tower.
I enjoy your charming stories very much, but like best
your tales of bygone times.
Your enthusiastic reader, GWENDOLYN D- .



FORT SAM HOUSTON, TEXAS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My father is an army officer,
and has been stationed here five years. There are a great
many nice.childr.en in the post, and a great many of us
have ponies; so we have great fun riding, which we do a
great deal. My pony is named "Candy," and my sister's
"Verde." We also enjoy our hops, which we have every
other Friday night.
Hoping you will live a great many years more, I am
ever your constant reader, ALICE W. B- .


THE DOLLS' HOSPITAL.
(A True Story.)

GIRLS, did you ever hear of a dolls' hospital ? Well,
I am going to tell you about one. My sister Edith once
had a very beautiful doll named Rosy," and we were all
very fond of her. She came to us in England, and had
always been rather pale and delicate; so while we were
in Florence, Italy, we thought it might possibly benefit
her to take a course of baths.
One beautiful morning we took her out with us, and
climbing the hill to the Piazzali di Michelangelo, where
we were accustomed to play every day, we came to a
beautiful fountain with a low, broad basin. This exactly
suited our purpose. Undressing poor Rosy, her gentle
little mother boldly plunged her into theater. We
watched her gaily. After a while her mama said it was
time to take her out of the bath; so out Miss Rosy came.
Oh, what a sight to behold! Just imagine! Her hair
was all coming out, her bones were out of joint, and her
skin was peeling off. (Her skin was the kind which
French dolls usually have compressed paper.) We
all set up a dismal howl, and rushed home to ask mama
if anything could be done for the poor darling. Mama
tried first of all to quiet and soothe Rosy's broken-hearted
little mother, and then proceeded to examine the wreck.
She made Rosy a nice little nightgown and cap, laid her
in a little bed, and comforted us by telling us she hoped
the poor creature would soon be better. But Rosy still
remained very ill, and never got any better, in spite of
the tender care we all bestowed upon her.
Finally we left Florence, and went to Venice; but the
change of climate did not benefit our dear invalid. From
Venice we went to the Lake of Como, where we stayed
two months, and often took our darling out to row on the
blue waters. Still there was no change for the better.
Then we journeyed over the Alps, into Switzerland,


TER-BOX. 557

where we spent the whole summer; but the Swiss air
seemed to have lost its virtue. Rosy was no better.
At last, when winter was near at hand, we went to
Wiesbaden, Germany. This is a very beautiful city, as
you all know, and famous for its hot baths. Many inva-
lids go there to be cured. We had been there only a
short time when we met a kind lady who, hearing of
Rosy's condition, told us that she knew of a dolls' hospi-
tal, not very far from Wiesbaden, where old dolls were
made young, and sick ones quite restored to health.
After much thought and discussion, we at length de-
cided to send our darling there. We bade her good-by
with many tears and kisses, laid her in a narrow box -
how funereal it seemed! -and sent her away. She had
been gone only a few days when the winter rains began,
and soon there were great floods throughout Germany.
For many long weeks we did not hear one word from
her. Every day we went down to the doll establishment
from which she had been sent to inquire about her; but all
in vain. At last, however, our sad hearts were made very
glad. One morning, going down on our daily errand,
we found Miss Rosy had arrived, and was waiting im-
patiently to see us. Oh, joy There she lay in a box,
just as plump and rosy as she could be.. Her long
golden curls fell about her lovely face, and reached
down to her waist.
When we arrived at home and tried on her dresses,
none of them would fit. Would you believe it ? She
had grown a whole inch !
MILDRED L. COWLES.


FAIRFORD, ALA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for a great
many years, and I like you very much. I am very much
interested in the story Tom Paulding." I am ten years
old, and I have three brothers and one sister. There is a
large sawmill here, and my father is the superintendent
of it. I am very fond of dogs. We have two setters at
home, named Doc and Tatum." Papa has a kennel,
and he has twenty hounds. Leo, my brother, and I have
a gun apiece, and we go out hunting every Saturday. I
like to hunt very much.
Yours sincerely, CURRAN LAMAR S- .



WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Edna W., Mary W.,
Julia B. H., Georgina G. R., Clara G. G., Laura V. B.,
Louise P. B., Leona B., Ethel F., Mabel B., Abbie F. P.,
H. T. W., Emily B., Arlie H., Beatrice F. M., Edith P.
M., Agnes K. J., Paul V. R., Edna S. P., Mary M. W.,
Clara G. A., Harry W. L., Charlotte L. A., Blanche,
Beulah McF., Lucien M., Ellenor D., Florence F., X.
Y. Z., Lucille M. C., Eloise C., C. Earl Fenner, Isabel
R. D., Elsie S., Gertrude K., Ruth McN., Chris S. M.,
J. H. P., Jamie R. P., Paula H., Annie M. M., Kathe-
rine D. Y., Lawrence B. E., Elizabeth C. G., Florence
Adelaide F., Madelaine L., Katharine M. A., M. Agnes
B., R. M. H., Percy L. B., Minnie L. M., Emma C. D.,
Laurence B., M. W. P., Lynn A., Lucille B., Minnie W.,
Bessie C., Virginia G., Edward B., Helen S. F., Nina S.,
Carl B., and G. M.




















RA
-4 .- ----- .










/^o ....


e, 4 ov 5

\ ---:---


-- I


'
(i-litE
-,4 .rf7


* :i


._ -- ,. _


THESE DRAWINGS ARE FROM THE POCKET SKETCH-BOOK OF A NEW YORK BOY, THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. THEY WERE MADK
DURING A TRIP ON THE HUDSON RIVER AND A VISIT TO CENTRAL PARK, AND WERE NOT DRAWN FOR PUBLICATION.
558


leCaves


ic-J
.~
,r


L


















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.


NOVEL ACROSTIC. Initials, Easter; centrals, Sunday. Cross-
words: i. Easel. 2. Abuse. 3. Songs. 4. Tides. 5. Eland.
6. Royal.
HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Raphael. i. Charade. 2. Blake. 3. Ope.
4. H. 5. Bat. 6. Sleek. 7. Ability.
DIAGONAL. America. Cross-words: I. Antique. 2. Emperor.
3. Amenity. 4. Hearsay. 5. Imagine. 6. Tobacco. 7. Miranda.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centrals, Podsnappery. Cross-words:
i. Slipper. 2. Colonel. 3. Gradual. 4. Fluster. 5. Blunder.
6. Fanatic. 7. Skipper. 8. Grapnel. 9. Benefit. 1o. Charade.
ni. Playful.
CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES. Upper square: i. Prop. 2. Rase.
3. Ossa. 4. Peat. Lower square: i. Oast. 2. Area. 3. Seal.
4. Tall. From i to 4, pastoral.
WORD-BUILDING. E, em, elm, lime, Selim, samiel, mailest,
simulate, mutilates, stimulates.
OCTAGONS. I. I. Lap. 2. Mavis. 3. Lateran. 4. Average.
5. Pirated. 6. Sages. 7. Ned. II.. Lea. 2. Bilbo. 3. Literal.
4. Elevate. 5. Abraded. 6. Oaten. 7. Led.
ANAGRAM. Nathaniel Hawthorne.


PROVERB PUZZLE.
When April blows his horn,
It is good for both hay and corn.
RHOMBOIDS. I. Across: I. Dunes. 2. Sever. 3. Tepor. 4. Naval.
5. Lemon. II. Across i I. Gowan. 2. Revel. 3. Newel. 4. Renew.
5. Roger.
Pi. Already close by our summer dwelling
The Easter sparrow repeats her song;
A merry warbler, she chides the blossoms-
The idle blossoms that sleep so long.
The bluebird chants from the elm's long branches
A hymn to welcome the budding year.
The south wind wanders from field to forest,
And softly whispers, The spring is here."
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Armada. 2. Raises. 3. Misses. 4. As-
sume. 5. Deemer. 6. Assert. II. i. Albata. 2. Leaves. 3. Bat-
ons. 4. Avowee. 5. Tenets. 6. Assess.
ZIGZAG AND DIAGONAL. Zigzag. From i to 7, Lycidas; 8 to 14,
Thyrsis. Cross-words: i. Lethe. 2. Myths. 3.-Vichy. 4. Fiery.
5. Disme. 6. Vapid. 7. Basis. Diagonal. From I to 6, Milton;
7 to 12, Arnold. Cross-words: I. Masked. 2. Dingle. 3. Eulogy.
4. Sentry. 5. Dragon. 6. Aonian.


To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 15th, from Maude E. Palmer-Two
of "The Wise Five "-Paul Reese -Josephine Sherwood- E. M. G.-"The Peterkins "--C. M. D.-" Arthur Gride "-"The
McG.'s "-Gertrude L.-L. O. E. -"Toodles"-Annie M. Bingham-Ed and Papa-Chester B. S.-Jo and I-Aunt Kate, Mama,
and Jamie-Hubert L. Bingay-" Mid "- Edgar Darby-Marian F., Aunt Eva, and Lulu-Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.-
Ida, Alice, and Olive- No Name, N. Y. City-Mama and Franz-Stephen O. Hawkins-Effie K. Talboys-" Dodo and Doder"-
The Spencers- Grace and Nannie "May and '79 "-"The Sewalls "-Ida Carleton Thallon -"Leather Stocking"- Florence A.
Gragg-Jessie Chapman -E. Kellogg Trowbridge -Blanche and Fred.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February i5th, from Elsie Burke, n Susan L. Butler, -
S. A. Gardner, I Bessie C., i C. G., I Carrie Chester, i V. H. Berghaus, Jr., x -" Lorna Doone," I Lawrence Pumpelly, i -
Eric Palmer, 2-Bessie Wood, 2-Grace I. Shirley, i-Elaine S., 5-Marie Beredi, x-Alma Devlin, i-Wilfred and Helen Jor-
dan, i S. W. French, 2 Eleanor Hurd, --" Bubbles," 5- M. Beatrice Brien, i- Belle MacMahon, i--Annie McClure, -
Shirley Lenerd, -- Addie and Esther Stone, I Roberta C., I Gertrude Kerr, 2 Wilkie Husted, 5 -Edna H., 2- Roy Murchie, x-
J. Schmitt, Walker G. McLaury, Henry Hunt, I- Elma and Alma Dixon, I- Naje Rheaton, 2- Tracy R. Kelley, 5--S.
Lindsley, I Elizabeth C. and Clara W. Chambers, 3 Eleanor Ogier, I Clara Louise Green, 3 Lily D. Barwell, I Mama and Har-
old, 6- Marguerite H. Sanderson, i Ruth F. Graves, x Ivy, i Harry and Mama, 9- Ella C. D., I Howard Ford, i -" Jill," i -
Lillian Adonis, 2 -Nellie Archer, 8 Daisy B. Allen, 2 Flossie and Gussie, io Isabel Wallace, i Caryl and Mamie, 2 Gardner
Hendrie, i-Rae Russell, 2-E. S. B., i-Amanda E. T., I--Floy L. Noteman, i-Charles Munch, I-L. and E., 4-"Ore-
gon," 6-" Jack Spratt" and "Polly Flinders," 8-" Waiontha," 8- Marian Gray, 8- Nellie L. Howes, 9-" We Girls," i -Rosalie
Bloomingdale, I--Millard Russell, 2-Harry Day Brigham, io-"Myself" I-Alma E. Rosenberg, 2-Gladys M. Bucke, I-
James Robertson Smith, E. M., A. P. C., and S. W. A., 8-Janet and Bertha, io-" Somebody," ao- Mama and Charlie, 6-
"Only I," -No Name, Louisville, 8--Schuyler F. S., 2-Mama and Marion, 4-"The Three Eldridges," io-"Suse," io--E.
K., 3 -Eunice MacMichael, Sam Harrison, 1.


WORD-SQUARE.

I. IN a manner. 2. Belonging to a city. 3. To decline.
4. A mythological being. 5. Sluggish. K. F. L.

DOUBLE ACROSTICS.

I. MY initials and finals each name a planet.
CROSS-WORDS : I. Metrical arrangement of language.
2. Additional. 3. Saltpeter. 4. To overturn. 5. A
cardinal point.
II. MY initials and finals each name a planet.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A planet. 2. A large country. 3. A
famous mountain of western Asia. 4. A city of the
Bahama Islands. 5. One who exacts a very high rate
of interest. 6. A river of England. "ZUAR."

BEHEADINGS.

I. BEHEAD a person of distinction, and leave allied.
2. Behead shaped like an egg, and leave empty. 3. Be-
head to pine, and leave grief. 4. Behead concise, and
leave pertaining to the Celtic race in the highlands of
Scotland. 5. Behead an old-fashioned kind of ship, and


leave to produce designs on metal or glass by means
of acid. 6. Behead to furnish for service, and leave a
severe retort.
The beheaded letters will spell the name of a famous
strategist. XELIS."

DOUBLE SQUARES.


*
. x


I. I. A TROPICAL tree. 2. Fragrance. 3. Influence.
4. To reform. 5. Guards.
INCLUDED WORD-SQUARE: I. A gipsy. 2. To be
indebted. 3. Mankind.
II. I. To come to pass. 2. A wading bird. 3. A
Turkish ruler. 4. To league. 5. To advert.
INCLUDED WORD-SQUARE: I. Hurried. 2. An east-
ern name. 3. The egg of any small insect. XELIS."








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I AM composed of ninety-five letters, and form a quota-
tion from the writings of Thomas a Kempis.
MY 70-25-34-55 is a waiter. My 5-27-82 is a grain.
My 62-15-37-18-11 is one of an ancient order of priests.
My 3-66-75-93-88 is to drag. My 46-8-78-22-48 is
averse. My 29-58-51-90 is fancy. My 86-39-60-54-63
is a weight of twelve grains. My 13-23-49-84-68-41
is troublesome. My 76-36-6-20 is the cheven. My
57-80-94-81-21 is a feminine name. My 72-77-1-17-85
is a quick puff of air or smoke. My 52-45-16-92-31-26
is dough before it is kneaded into loaves. My 4-43-35-
28-33-74 is secret. My 19-91-71-24 is an ancient city.
My 64-53-67-30-69-47 is niggardly. My 2-56-40-10o is
a season of the year. My 7-65-50-61-83-87 is another
season; my 12-9-44-38-89-32 is a third season, and my
42-14-79-73-59-95 is a fourth. M. D.
PI.
NOE ubsmean those cassor a coydul ady
Nac grintheb lal eht darer sanepex fo siske;
Eno vongil limes nac meak a year yaw
A thap ot rasipaed. EVERETT E. R.
RHOMBOID.
ACROSS: I. A pecuniary punishment or fine. 2. An
interstice. 3. To attack. 4. A collection of four things.
5. Conjectured. 6. The person to whom a bill of exchange
is addressed.
DOWNWARD: I. In castle. 2. A parent. 3. A period.
4. A collection of boxes. 5. Drugged. 6. Exalted.
7. One who airs. 8. A Buddhist priest in Tibet.
9. Moisture. o1. A Latin prefix. II. In castle.
XELIS."
ANAGRAM.
A WELL-KNOWN man of letters:
RAPID, UGLY INK DR.
DIAGONAL PUZZLE.

WHEN the following words have been rightly guessed
and placed one below another, the diagonals (beginning
at the upper left-hand letter) will spell the name of a
famous writer.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Beats. 2. An invented story. 3. To
fascinate. 4. Pressing into a narrow compass. 5. Trans-
ports. 6. Artful. 7. Binds by contract or promise.
H. R. MORRIS.
ENIGMA.

TAKE one hundred and ten, one hundred and one,
Five hundred and fifty, and when you have done
Knock it all into pi, and what have you there?
The end of a testament, added with care.
J. w. Y.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below
another, the central letters will spell a faithful friend.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Raises. 2. Pickle. 3. To shape.


4. The European flounder. 5. Relish. 6. To allay.
7. Endowed with utterance. 8. A respectful title given,
in India, to Europeans of rank. 9. A machine for rais-
ing and lowering heavy weights. Io. A species of pep-
per. II. A crevice. 12. One of the hereditary classes
nto which the Hindoos are divided. c. B.
WORD-BUILDING.
I. A VOWEL. 2. An article. 3. To annoy. 4. Profit.
5. A small weight. 6. Ventilating. 7. Showering. 8.
Educating. 9. Filtering. Io. Recoloring. Ii. Curb-
ing. "XELIS."
SINGLE ACROSTIC.
WHEN the following words have been rightly guessed,
and placed one below another, in the order here given,
one of the rows of letters, reading downward, will spell a
kind of scraper.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. Behind a ship.
2. Pertaining to ahorse. 3. Certain intricate musical com-
positions. 4. A kind of fine pottery. 5. Soda ash.
6. Not to recognize. 7. Loyalty. 8. The fireside.
o. B. G.
HOUR-GLASS.
I. ADvoWSONS. 2. Broiled. 3. To blaze. 4. Since.
5. In summer. 6. To regard studiously. 7. Bundles.
8. The first of each month in the ancient Roman calendar.
9. To compel.
The central letters, reading downward, will spell a
musical instrument. M. T. M.
A COTTAGE PUZZLE.
I 2


3 4 5 6


7 8 9
17 18
13 14

15 6

10 II 19 20. 12

FROM 3 to 6, mathematical word meaning a quantity
consisting of three terms; from 7 to 8, strives; from 10
to II, a metal discovered by Mtiller in 1782 ; from II to
12, methods ; from 3 to 7, a book; from 7 to 10, grace-
ful; from 6 to 8, a young woman; from 8 to II, any
fallacy designed to deceive; from 6 to 9, meager; from
9 to 12, unwholesome; from I to 4, iniquity; from I to 2,
to observe closely; from 2 to 5, an edible root; from 13
to 15, a horned animal; from 13 to 14, to fool; from
14 to 16, ay; from 15 to 16, a lady in Spenser's "Fayry
Queen"; from 17 to 19, a musical instrument; from
17 to 18, a solemn promise; from 18 to 20, to trill.
ELSIE L.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


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