• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Volcanoes and earthquakes
 My Betty
 The point of view
 A land and water tussle
 Inanimate things animated
 A page of fun
 The servants of the king
 Two girls and a boy
 How Columbus reckoned
 Strange corners of our country
 How Michael's bullet spoiled tommy's...
 Tom Paulding
 A year with dolly
 Learning to be weather-prophet...
 The dodish moral signal-servic...
 A puzzled professor
 A child's verses
 Leonidas
 Tapir hunting in Brazil
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 Bertie's first day at school
 The letter box
 The riddle box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
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Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00260
 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: VID00260
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 882
    Volcanoes and earthquakes
        Page 883
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
        Page 894
    My Betty
        Page 895
    The point of view
        Page 896
    A land and water tussle
        Page 897
        Page 898
        Page 899
        Page 900
        Page 901
    Inanimate things animated
        Page 902
    A page of fun
        Page 903
    The servants of the king
        Page 904
        Page 905
        Page 906
        Page 907
    Two girls and a boy
        Page 908
        Page 909
        Page 910
        Page 911
        Page 912
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
    How Columbus reckoned
        Page 916
        Page 917
        Page 918
        Page 919
    Strange corners of our country
        Page 920
        Page 921
        Page 922
        Page 923
        Page 924
    How Michael's bullet spoiled tommy's picnic
        Page 925
        Page 926
        Page 927
        Page 928
        Page 929
    Tom Paulding
        Page 930
        Page 931
        Page 932
        Page 933
        Page 934
        Page 935
    A year with dolly
        Page 936
    Learning to be weather-prophets
        Page 937
        Page 938
        Page 939
    The dodish moral signal-service
        Page 940
        Page 941
    A puzzled professor
        Page 942
    A child's verses
        Page 943
    Leonidas
        Page 944
        Page 945
        Page 946
    Tapir hunting in Brazil
        Page 947
        Page 948
        Page 949
        Page 950
        Page 951
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 952
        Page 953
    Bertie's first day at school
        Page 954
        Page 955
    The letter box
        Page 956
        Page 957
        Page 958
    The riddle box
        Page 959
        Page 960
    Back Matter
        Page 962
    Back Cover
        Page 963
        Page 964
    Spine
        Page 965
Full Text























A MENAGERIE PERFORMANCE.
AFTER THE PAINTING BY FR. SONDERLAND, BY PERMISSION OF BERLIN PHOTOGRAPHIC CO.


b%

















ST. NICHOLAS.


OCTOBER, 1892.


No. 12.


BY MRS. CHARLES F. HARTT.


I.

ASTRONOMERS tell us that once upon a time
the earth was melted throughout, as the sun per-
haps is to-day; but in the lapse of ages the out-
side of it cooled down until a crust formed all
over its surface. This is the "solid ground on
which we live, and we shall presently see that
it is not so solid as it appears. Scientific men
differ as to the exact thickness of this crust, but
a majority believe that it cannot be greater in
proportion to the diameter of the earth than the
thickness of an egg-shell to the mass of an egg.
Now it is true that the depth reached by
the deepest mines is but trifling in compari-
son with the thickness of this crust, yet it is suf-
ficient to enable us to prove the law that the
deeper we penetrate the earth the hotter it
grows, and at the rate of about one degree for
every ninety feet of descent. Artesian wells


bored to a depth of two or three thousand feet
always bring up warm water, and hot springs
often appear to come from still greater depths.
It seems rather appalling, but, according to
this reasoning, at a depth of about twenty
miles the rocks must be red hot, and, a little
further inside, everything must be melted; and
this ocean of lava is the foundation on which
rest the "everlasting hills," as we often call
them.
It would take too long to tell you how the
crust of the earth has risen and sunk on this
molten sea -lifting its surface above the ocean
to form land, and sinking away down under
water; how it has crumpled up like the skin of
a drying apple, only that the crumplings were
hundreds or thousands of feet high and some-
times extended thousands of miles, forming
mountain-chains. You will learn all this by
and by, when you study geology. What you


Copyright, 1892, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


VOL. XIX.






Vo






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


need to know now, in order to understand how
volcanoes are formed, is the fact that this crust
has cracked through from time to time with im-
mense cracks, some of which have extended for
hundreds of miles.
If lava were only melted rock, it might be
thrown out with less noise, but it is full of in-
tensely heated water and gases of various
kinds tremendously compressed. Now it may
be a new idea to some of my young readers,
that water may be made extremely hot and yet
not boil. If you put some water in a tea-kettle
and set it on the stove, you must heat it up to
212 degrees Fahrenheit before it will boil, and
it will not get any hotter, no matter how fierce
you may make the fire beneath it.
If some water is put in a strong vessel corked
tight, it will be found that the steam which is
formed and cannot escape presses on the water,
and it may be heated much above 212 degrees
without boiling; but if the pressure be suddenly
removed, the water flashes into steam, and there
is a tremendous explosion.
When I was a child, I corked up some water,
one day, in a stout vial, and set it on a stove.
Wondering why it did not boil, and not know-
ing any better, I at last took out the stopper,
when it exploded, driving out the contents of
the bottle. I narrowly escaped a scalding.
The water had been too much heated, and
of course as soon as the pressure was taken
off, it flashed into steam. Precisely what hap-
pened to the water in the bottle, happens in a
volcanic eruption. As the melted rock with
the imprisoned water and gases comes up to-
ward the surface of the earth, and the pressure
grows less, it at last reaches a point where the
water instantly changes into steam. Then, in
the crevice in which this takes place, the steam
and liberated gases blow out everything before
them, straight up into the air with a puff of
smoke and steam, and a noise to which a can-
non is but a pop-gun. Great rocks are some-
times torn off from below and hurled miles into
the air, and sometimes the lava, liquid as water
and exceedingly brilliant, is spouted up like
a fountain to a height of several thousand
feet. The explosions are sometimes so terrible
that tracts of land a mile square are blown
bodily into the air. Of course when so great a


quantity of loose stuff is thrown out of the
earth, it must be piled up in a huge heap or
mountain, which slopes off in every direc-
tion from the opening. This is always kept
clear by explosion, so as to form a great gulf
like a funnel in the top of the mountain. The
gulf or funnel is called the "crater." A crater
may be very large, as for instance that of
Kilauea in the Sandwich Islands, which is two
miles long, a mile wide, and 800 feet deep,
with a constantly boiling lake of fire at the
bottom.
Let any reader who wishes to form some
idea of a stream of lava, go to see an iron-fur-
nace when the iron is being drawn. The
melted metal, so bright that it blinds the eye,
spouts out from the opening in the furnace,
and rapidly runs down like water into the
channels made in the sand to receive it; but
the farther it goes the cooler it gets. It soon
becomes sticky and covered with scum, and by
and by it only creeps along. So the lava soon
cools, the surface "rises like yeast, and be-
comes spongy and hard, and cracks up, and, at
a distance from the source, the lava-stream
looks like a river of furnace-clinkers moving
slowly along, the fragments on the surface roll-
ing over one another with a rattling noise.
There are volcanoes all over the world.
They occur all along the Pacific coast, on the
western side as well as the eastern, all the way
from Bering Strait to New Zealand. There
are volcanoes in Africa, in the Mediterranean,
the West Indies, and even amid the eternal ice
and snows that surround the southern pole.
Iceland is especially noted for its volcanoes,
which have burst forth from time to time in the
most fearful eruptions. On one occasion the
volcano of Skaptar J6kull poured out a stream
of lava which, flowing into the bed of a river,
dried it up. The flowing lava followed the
bed of the river until it came to a lake, which
it filled up, and, soon after, it reached a tre-
mendous abyss over which a magnificent wa-
terfall had formerly plunged. Here, too, the
lava took the place of water, and formed a
cataract of fire which must have been a grand
and awful sight.
Of course all volcanoes are not of the same
age. Many have been formed within the last


884






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


few centuries, and we have descriptions of
several from eye-witnesses who watched their
formation.
About the middle of the last century there
lived on the elevated plain of Malpais, in Mex-
ico, a planter by the name of Jorullo (pro-
nounced Ho-rool'yo). All had gone along
quietly enough in that neighborhood up to


beautiful bay of Baise, on which anciently
stood a little town called Tripergola. In the
years 1537 and 1538 a great many earthquakes
were felt in the vicinity, but on the afternoon
of Sunday, the 29th of September, 1538, fire
burst out of the ground, ashes, mud, and stones
were hurled out, and, in a single night, a vol-
canic mountain 440 feet high was thrown up,


CRATER OF KILAUEA, SANDWICH ISLANDS, IN Il00.


June, 1759, when, under the plain, were heard
terrible subterranean noises. Then earthquakes
followed, and continued for two months, and
presently the ground burst open, a terrific
eruption took place, and a volcano was formed
upon Sefior Jorullo's plantation. When Hum-
boldt visited the spot about forty years after-
ward, he found, in addition to the principal
volcano, an immense number of little oven-like
vents scattered over the plain, and still hot and
smoking.
Just to the north of Naples in Italy is the


very near the town. Its fires speedily died
out; the Italians call it Monte Nuovo, or the
New Mountain.
Tremendous eruptions may take place from
a volcano without an accompanying earthquake,
and the vicinity of an active volcano may be
one of comparative safety, so far as earthquakes
are concerned. If you throw a stone into a
pond you know that a circular wave, or several
such waves, are formed, which extend in every
direction, disturbing the whole surface of the
pond. If anything is floating on the water, as,


885


892.]1






886


VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


VOLCANO FORMED ON SENOR JORULLO'S PLANTATION, MEXICO, IN 1759.
for instance, a chip, when the wave reaches the or be shaken, waves would start off with tre-
object, it rises and falls for a moment and then mendous rapidity in every direction. When
soon becomes quiet in the same place. Similar these waves pass under a place they jar
waves may be formed in iron or wood or rock. or shake it, more or less severely, causing an
When a heavy train is passing, you know how earthquake or earth-tremble. Some of these
the ground jars and shakes, even at a consider- waves in the rock are several feet high, and as
able distance. This is because waves are formed they move at the rate of from thirteen to eighty
miles in a minute, when
they pass under a town
." itmaybeshakendownor
tossed up, like the men
on a chess-board when
one gives it a rap under-
neath; and in the twink-
ling of an eye the larg-
est buildings may be
-w;en, overthrown. Sometimes
the earth jumps up be-
o' neath the feet, some-
times it sinks suddenly
down, and sometimes
-4
the motion is from side
MONTE NUOVO, ITALY, FORMED DURING A SINGLE NIGHT IN 538the motion is from side
to side, so that trees
in the ground like those formed in the water lash the ground with their tops. There is
when disturbed by the fall of a stone. Now if, something inexpressibly dreadful about an
owing to some disturbance below, the rock- earthquake. There is the sudden subterran-
crust of the earth should suddenly rise or fall ean thunder, then the violent shaking of the






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


earth, the crash of falling buildings, and the
cries of affrighted men, women, and children
rushing hither and thither for safety. But
where is safety to be found when the earth
itself is rocking?
Earthquakes sometimes disturb the sea and
cause the formation of immense waves, which
pass across entire oceans and break upon the
shores to a height far above that reached
during the severest storms. Earthquake-waves
following earthquakes have done terrible dam-
age to cities and settlements on the shores of
Chili an4 Peru, the Sandwich Islands, the West
Indies, and elsewhere.

II.
VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.

By PROFESSOR FREDERICK D. CHESTER.

IT may be asked, why do we speak of vol-
canoes and earthquakes in the same breath ?
I answer, because the two are as closely related
as a boiler and its safety-valve. After the great
earthquake of July, 1883, upon the island of
Ischia, in the Mediterranean, Mount Vesuvius,
which lay just across the Bay of Naples, began
to smoke and discharge lava. The same thing
occurs after nearly every earthquake, if there
is a volcano near by. The earthquake comes
first, and then the volcano sends out its steam
with a hissing, growling noise, very much as
steam escapes from the safety-valve of a boiler.
Now, a safety-valve is for the purpose of re-
lieving the boiler when there is danger of its
bursting because of an excess of steam-pres-
sure. For similar reasons, when there is too
much steam in the earth, there is danger of
an explosion, and in all real earthquakes, the
ground quakes, heaves, and splits because of
these explosive shocks, until the volcano opens
its valves. Then the earthquake ceases. So the
volcano is the safety-valve of an earthquake.
Geographies sometimes tell us that a vol-
cano is a mountain from which issue smoke
and flame; but this is not correct. When you
see pictures of dark, curling pillars or clouds
of what appears to be smoke pouring out of a
mountain, be assured it is not smoke, but


steam darkened by the flying ashes. The
mountain in the picture may look as if it would
bur down in a few hours; but this is only an
appearance. In reality, the. red-hot melted rock
or lava is lighting up the clouds of steam, so
that they resemble flames of fire. If you have
ever seen the fireman of a locomotive open the
fire-door at night, you may remember how the
steam was illuminated, until the whole engine
seemed ablaze. This will make you understand
why active volcanoes appear to be burning.
But a volcano also throws out immense
masses of stones, ashes, cinders, and lava. Ima-
gine a single volcano pouring out at one time
enough of all these things to make a pile as
large as three Mont Blancs!--or another throw-
ing out enough material at a single explosion to
cover all of Germany two feet deep!
Now, let us consider how so much rock gets
melted, and whence so much steam comes.
You know, even if you have never tried it,
that it takes a great deal of heat to melt a
rock; as much as it takes to melt iron and
copper. Many rocks can- hardly be melted.
The hardest way to melt a rock is to dry it in
an oven, and then put it in a furnace. But
there is another way to do it, whereby it re-
quires but one quarter as hot a fire. A piece
of cold lava, such, as may have been brought
from some volcano as a specimen, is broken up
fine, and mixed with water until a stiff mud is
formed. Then a strong steel tube, closed at
one end, is filled with the mud, after which the
other end also is closed, and the whole put
into the fire. Experiment has proved that the
mud thus confined will not require nearly so
hot a fire to melt the particles of rock, as would
be necessary if the latter were dry. But, you
say, how can this be?-for wet things resist
the action of heat better than dry. The ex-
planation is probably this: the water in the
mud which you put in the thick steel tube
changes, when heated, into steam, and this
steam, having no means of escape, is under
great pressure. While ordinary steam, such as
comes out of the spout of a tea-kettle, is very
hot, and is capable of dissolving rocks very
slowly, steam which is under great pressure, as
in the tube, becomes much hotter, and has
therefore greater power to dissolve substances.






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


Considering this, we can see why the steam
confined in the tube should easily dissolve
some of the rock, and that a portion of it be-
ing thus dissolved, the remainder would more


a pressure. You must remember that where the
rocks are melted is at a depth of at least four
or five miles, and that all water in the rocks
at this depth would therefore be pressed upon


VESUVIUS IN ERUPTION. (BY PERMISSION, FROM "THE NEW ASTRONOMY," BY PROFESSOR S. P. LANGLEY.)


easily become liquid, just as the melting of a
small portion of butter hastens, the melting of
the rest. We shall find that rocks which lie
d. under the ground are melted in much the
same way as are the particles of lava in the
tube, but with this difference, that the water in
the former case is under such pressure that none
of it can ever turn into steam.
You may ask why the water is under so great


by rocks four or five miles in thickness. If
you consider what a pressure is brought to
bear upon the lowest stone of a great tower by
the stones above, you will better understand
why water at great depths is so confined that
it cannot become steam. If you were to go
down into a mine, you would find that the
deeper you penetrated, the hotter it would be.
In one great mine in Nevada the air is so hot


888






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


889


that it is necessary to pump down cold air so
that men may work in it. Deeper still, it prob-
ably is hot enough to melt the rocks.
But there is another fact to be learned.
When it rains, some of the water soaks into the
earth and through the rocks, by different ways,
until it reaches hundreds and thousands of feet
below the surface. So much is found in some
deep mines that it would require many fire-
engines to pump it all out as fast as it comes in.
We are now prepared to learn more about
volcanoes. A volcano is often declared to be
a mountain; but this is not always the case.
We learn from geology that most of the ancient
volcanoes, before men were created, were not
mountains at all, but merely cracks in the
ground, from which proceeded steam, melted
rock, and other matter. But if an opening in
the ground keeps pouring out melted rock, it
makes a vast accumulation of lava about the
crack, until it may build up a real mountain.
As the steam always tries to escape upward
through the fissure it forces the lava up with
it until the crater is full, and looks like a lake
of fire, or a great kettle of red-hot slag. Just
before the volcano pours out the melted rock,
it often acts as you may have seen porridge do
when it is cooking on the stove. The porridge
gurgles and bubbles, and the surface heaves as
jets of steam escape. It then sinks, and rises
again a little higher than before, until, if you
continue the heating, the porridge may rise so
high that it boils over and runs down the sides
of the kettle. The porridge gurgles, bubbles,
and heaves because the steam is trying to es-
cape into the air; and, as the steam seeks the
air through a great lake of lava, the latter bub-
bles, gurgles, and heaves, just as the porridge
does, until it boils over and runs down the
sides of the mountain like a river of fire. Be-
sides the noise made by the boiling lava just
before an eruption, there are sometimes all sorts
of other terrible sounds heard. The steam often
escapes with a deafening hiss, as if many loco-
motives had opened their valves at once; and
again, it has such power that stones, cinders,
hot lava, and sometimes even pieces of the
mountain, are thrown far into the air, to fall
again with a tremendous rattling noise.
It is a well-known fact that the action of vol-


canoes is not continuous. Generally the crater
is in a hardened condition, from the cooling of
the lava, and steam is emitted only in places
where the lava melts again. But after slum-
bering for years, the awful thing will suddenly
awake anew, and pour out a flood of fire.
What is the cause of this period of inaction ?
The steam has been exhausted, and a period of
eight or ten years or more may elapse before
the earth can again have absorbed sufficient
water to make steam enough for sending out
the lava.
We are now ready to speak of the earth-
quakes, and discover, so far as we may, how
they are caused and what they are. I have
already mentioned the dreadful earthquake of
July, 1883, that occurred upon the little island
of Ischia, fifteen miles across the bay from


A VESSEL LEFT FAR INLAND AFTER AN EARTHQUAKE-WAVE.
(SEE PAGE 892.)
Naples. It was nearly ten o'clock on a Satur-
day night. The week's work was done. The
fishermen had drawn up their boats on the
beach, and were in their, homes. Hundreds


1892.]






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


of picturesque hotels and cottages nestled
peacefully amid the tropical foliage. The hotels
were thronged with visitors, and the theater was
crowded.
Suddenly a tremendous shock was felt, and
a sound heard like the thundering of a train
over a bridge. Two more shocks
followed, and all was
over. In the space of
fifteen seconds




























^ -,-. v-



~ ~ ~ _f ^

three towns had been destroyed and thousands
of people had lost their lives. And yet this
shocking occurrence by no means equals some
similar calamities where far larger tracts of
country and cities with tens of thousands of in-
habitants have suffered.
We have already said that an earthquake
takes place when there is too much steam un-
der the ground; but remember that it is a sud-
den explosion, and not slow upward pressure.
Supposing there were a hundred boilers, or


more, buried four or five miles beneath the sur-
face of the earth, and that they should all burst:
we should have a result similar to an earth-
quake. The ground would shake, heave, sub-
side, and even crack open in great fissures. You
would hear a noise which might be low and
muffled, like thunder, or a sound
like that of the earthquake
at Ischia.
Again, the crust






















S A STEAMER BORNE ASHORE BY AN EARTH-
.-. QUAKE-WAVE.
of the earth is not wholly stable, but con-
tinually rises and sinks; this country, for in-
stance, subsided eight or ten miles during one
epoch of geological time. Not only is the
crust subjected to a great downward pressure,
as a result of its enormous weight, but also to
a still greater pressure from the sides. You
know how apple-skins wrinkle when they are
.baked; that is because the apple under the skin
shrinks when the juice cooks out; as the skin
does not contract as fast as the apple, it wrin-
kles when it is brought closer together. Now,
the earth is not unlike the apple: there is the
outer crust, which corresponds to the skin,
and there is the inner earth, which corresponds
to the apple. As the inner earth tends to con-
tract faster than the crust, the latter tends to
wrinkle. But as the crust of the earth is rigid,
it does not wrinkle easily and resists the great


890






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


KRAKATOA IN ERUPTION. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


side-pressure. After the crust has withstood
this side-pressure for a long time, and been at
the same time pressed down very hard by its
own weight, it may suddenly break with a
snap, and a terrific jar is the result. In many




















REMAINS OF KRAKATOA AFTER THE ERUPTION.

earthquakes, the violent crash is followed by a
sudden sinking of the ground, which buries
whole towns. This is because the crust is
broken, and sinks rapidly by its own weight.


So earthquakes may be caused in two ways:
first, by the explosion of steam beneath the sur-
face of the earth; second, by the sudden snap-
ping of the earth's crust. Either of these, of
course, would jar the surface of the earth.
Sometimes it shakes back and forth, or up and
down; sometimes it rocks like a cradle; but
the usual effect is a trembling motion, pro-
duced as- if by some great shock dealt from
below.
While we usually think of earthquakes as tak-
ing place on land, they do, indeed, occur with
equal devastation in the ocean. That point in
the earth at which the explosion or breaking
takes place is called the earthquake-focus; and
from it what are known as earthquake-waves
pass to the surface. What do these earth-
quake-waves resemble ? Take a basin full of
water, and dip a glass tube in it. Blow through
the tube and you will see bubbles rising to the
surface, and circular waves passing out. The
disturbance at the bottom of the basin corre-
sponds with the explosion or snapping of the
crust at the earthquake-focus, with that differ-
ence that instead of water-waves, the latter pro-
duces earth-waves, passing through the ground.
When the city of Lisbon, Portugal, was de-
stroyed, the earthquake took place in the bot-






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


tom of the sea, fifty miles west of the city. operation. The great eruption, with its at-
Yet it so agitated the water that a wave sixty tendant earthquake-waves, did not begin until
feet high dashed over Lisbon, destroying it and August 26. At about four o'clock in the
its inhabitants in the space of six minutes. afternoon of that day a series of reports, like
Another earthquake, occurring
just off the coast of Peru, made
such a gigantic wave that a large
vessel was thrown several miles
inland. These are called earth-
quake-waves. They are the larg-
est known waves, and are caused ..'
by the heaving and rocking of r T
the bed of the sea. In deep water
such waves are not very high, '<- '
but their motion extends far down
into the ocean. When they reach .
shallower water, however, they
heap up like a gigantic wall, and, ,. -
with a force more terrible than
fire or sword, they sweep on,
bearing destruction with them.
Huge ships are tossed like straws
far inland, or mingle their ruin
with that of a harbor town. .W
The terrible volcanic eruption .
of August, 1883, which occurred
off the coast of Java, caused
the sudden destruction of thirty-
two thousand people, as the dis- -
astrous waves engulfed the coast, I
destroying the homes of the na-
tives. If you will look at a map, THE EARTHQUAKE-WAVE PASSING OVER THE LIGHTHOUSE ON POINT ANJER.
you will see that the island of


Java runs in a nearly east and west direc-
tion, and that it is separated from the island
of Sumatra by a channel of water called the
Strait of Sunda. In this strait, adjoining the
west end of Java, are a number of volcanic
islands, one of which is known as Krakatoa.
Krakatoa, which is but a volcanic mountain ris-
ing from the sea, began to be in eruption in May,
1883.
At that time the steam escaped from the
crater in puffs, sometimes white, sometimes gray
or black with ashes, much as it does from the
stack of a locomotive. Viewed from afar, this
steam apparently rose to a height of thousands
of feet, where, caught by currents of air, it was
spread out over the mountain in a vast canopy
of cloud. This, however, was but a preliminary


the firing of heavy cannon, were heard proceed-
ing from Krakatoa. These reports, becoming
louder and louder, continued until night, when
a thunder-storm, accompanied by a high wind,
arose. The air was thick with falling ashes,
and the sea, agitated by earthquake-waves, put
all vessels into deadly peril.
Enveloped in the unnatural darkness, but
hearing the advance of the waves, the natives
on shore sought refuge in the mountains. All
through the night these appalling waves were
heard. Throughout the morning the rain of
ashes continued, and by noon the entire coast
was plunged in complete darkness.
The violence of the earthquake-waves in-
creased, and at about two o'clock in the after-
noon appeared in the neighborhood of Kra-


892






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


893


THE ISLAND "'THWART THE WAY," BEFORE THE PASSING OF THE EARTHQUAKE-WAVE.
THE LAN THART HE AYBEFORE THE PARRINO OF THE REATHQUAKEEWAVE.


SIX ISLETS FORMED FROM THE ISLAND 'THWART THE WAY," AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE.
[FROM SKETCHES BY CAPTAIN JOSEPH T. CONANT.]


katoa the largest wave of all. Approaching
the southwest coast of Java, it rose to a height
of over one hundred feet, passing over and
totally destroying the lighthouse of Anjer, a
tower 151 feet high, besides overwhelming
many towns.
The same great earthquake-wave passed
over a neighboring island known as "'Thwart
the way" and converted it into six rocky
islets.
In the mean time Krakatoa was in vio-
lent eruption, throwing enormous quantities of
ashes, cinders, and stones high into the air.
The bottom of the sea in the neighborhood of
the mountain heaved restlessly- here depressed,
there elevated. The island of Krakatoa was
rent in deep fissures, from which escaped jets
of steam with slight explosions, and the entire
northern portion, including fully half of the
volcano itself, sank to a depth of over a hun-
dred feet beneath the sea !


THE EARTHQUAKE AT
CHARLESTON.

BY EWING GIBSON.

ON Tuesday, the 3rst of August, 1886, every
one in Charleston, South Carolina, complained
of the severe heat and sultriness of the air.
Not a breath cooled the atmosphere, parched
by the burning summer sun's rays. In the
afternoon the usual sea breeze failed to appear,
and there was no relief from the intense close-
ness and almost overpowering warmth. The
sky was clear, but with a misty, steamy appear-
ance which reminded one strongly of glowing,
tropical countries.
As the night came on, the absence of the
glare of the sun was the only relief to the
parched and panting population. Seated in
the parlor of a large three-storied brick house
in the central portion of the city, I spent the






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


evening after tea conversing with two friends
who had called to see me. After a few hours
of pleasant conversation, one of my friends said
it was time to leave. Taking out his watch, he
continued, Six minutes of ten, and- what is
that ? A low, deep rumbling noise as of
thunder, only beneath
instead of above us,
coming from afar and
approaching us nearer
and nearer, muttering
and groaning, and ever
increasing in volume,
-it was upon us in an
instant.
The massive brick
house we were in began
to sway from side to
side gently at first with
a rhythmical motion,
then gradually increas-
ing in force, until, spring-
ing to our feet, we seized
one another by the
hand and gazed with
blanched and awe-struck
faces at the tottering
walls around us. We
felt the floor beneath our
feet heaving like the
deck of a storm-tossed
vessel, and heard the
crashing of the falling
masonry and ruins on
every side. With almost
stilled hearts we realized
that we were in the
power of an earthquake.
The motion of the house,
never ceasing, became .
now vertical. Up and .,
down it went as though STRT
some monstrous giant
had taken it in his hands as a plaything and
were tossing it like a ball for his amusement.
Recalling our dazed senses, and staggering to
our feet as best we could, with one accord we
rushed down the steps leading to the front
door, and, grasping the handle, turned it. In
vain-the door was jammed, and we were


compelled to wait like rats in a trap until the
shock had passed!
Concentrating its energies into one final, con-
vulsive effort, the huge earth-wave passed and
left the earth palpitating and heaving like a
tired animal. There came crashing down into


ENE DURING THE CHARLESTON EARTHQUAKE.

SCENE DURING THE CHARLESTON EARTHQUAKE.


our garden-plot the chimneys from the house
in front of ours. Fortunately the falling bricks
injured none of us. Making another trial, we
succeeded in opening the door and rushed into
the street.
Now there came upon us an overpowering,
suffocating odor of sulphur and brimstone,


894






VOLCANOES AND EARTHQUAKES.


which filled the whole atmosphere. We were
surrounded by a crowd of neighbors-men,
women, and children-whb had rushed out of
their houses, as we had done, and who stood
with us in the middle of the street, awaiting
they knew not what.
Suddenly there came again to our ears the
now dreaded rumbling sound. Like some fierce
animal, growling and seeking its victim, it ap-
proached, and we all prepared ourselves for
the worst. The shock came, and for a moment
the crowd was awed into silence. Fortunately
this shock was not nearly so severe as the first.
The earth became still once more, and the roar-
ing died away in the distance
How the people shunned their houses and
spent that and succeeding nights in the streets,
private gardens, and on public squares, is well
known from the many accounts given in the
daily and illustrated papers at the time.
So perfectly still and calm was the air during


the night, that a lamp which was taken out in
the open air burnt as steadily as though pro-
tected in a room, and no flickering revealed
the presence of a breath of wind.
Again, some strong and powerful buildings
in certain portions of the city were wrecked
completely, while others older and undoubt-
edly weaker passed through the shock un-
harmed. A house on one corner was perfectly
shattered, while, just a few hundred feet away,
the house on the opposite corer was not dam-
aged in the slightest except that a little plaster-
ing was shaken down.
Knowing that a city with a population of
sixty thousand had been wrecked and shattered
in every direction by an earthquake, one would
expect the death-list to be enormous; but not
more than about forty were killed outright, and
but a few more were wounded. Had the shock
occurred in the day-time, when the streets were
thronged, the loss of life must have been terrible.


MY BETTY.

By LAURA E. RICHARDS.


WHEN I sit and hold her little hand,
My Betty,
Then all the vexing troubles seem to shrink,
Grow small and petty.
It does not matter any more
That ink is spilt on parlor floor;
That gown is caught upon the latch,-
And not the smallest bit to match;
That cook is going, housemaid gone,
And coming guests to meet alone.
It matters not at all, you see,
For I have Betty, and Betty has me.

When I sit and hold her little hand,
My Betty,
Then all the pretty, foolish nursery talk
Grows wise and witty.
I 'm glad to know that "Pussy Mow"
Was frightened at the wooden cow;


I mourn for "Dolly's" broken head,
And for the sawdust she has shed;
I take with joy the cups. of tea
From wooden tea-pot poured for me:
And all goes well, because, you see,
I play with Betty, and Betty with me.

When I walk and hold her little hand,
My Betty,
Then every humble weed beside the way
Grows pink and pretty.
The clover never was so red,
Their purest white the daisies spread,
The buttercups begin to dance,
The reeds salute with lifted lance,
The very tallest trees we pass
Bend down to greet my little lass:
And these things make my joy, you see,
For I love Betty, and Betty loves me.


895






THE POINT OF VIEW.
By M. O. KOBBE.


WHEN I was in Antwerp, a twelvemonth ago,
Where the roofs are all fluted and red,
I met this old lady in clattering shoes,
With this queer flapping cap on her head.








;

5LK


I was dressed up in my best Sunday clothes,
But I thought, from her stare, it was easy t... e.:
That to her I looked just as outlandish and .ierr
As she looked old-fashioned and funny to nm. '


A r
M-

B//












A LAND AND WATER TUSSLE.

By CLARENCE PULLEN.


MARTIN CRAUTHBERT was
at his favorite fishing-
stand at Beaver Pool
on the Black Hollow
Stream. This chosen
S spot from which to
swing his rod was a
large granite rock
which rose abruptly
from the water, clear of the shore, giving a fine
chance to cast his line and flies far out upon
the broad surface of the pool. The August day
was fine; sport had been good through the
morning, and promised, after the midday lull,
to pick up again; and he thought himself a
lucky and happy boy.
The scene was in northern New York, in the
partly cleared country upon the eastern borders
of the Adirondack region. It was not an un-
common thing in this locality for beasts of prey
to come out of the woods to destroy the sheep,
pigs, calves, and colts of the farmers living on
the skirts of the great forest. The bounties
paid for wild animals' scalps, and the slaughter
made by fur-hunters, only partly availed to
keep these predatory creatures in check.
Among the residents of the Black Hollow
region, Mr. Jonathan Crauthbert, a prosperous
ard respected farmer, had his home in one of
the wildest parts of this debatable ground
between humanity and the wild beasts. At
the time of which I write, Martin Crauth-
bert, his brother's son, from New York city,
was spending the summer's vacation at his
uncle's farm. The young visitor was a thorough-
going city boy, inexperienced in country life
and ways; but he made himself at home amid
his new surroundings, and, while laughing a
little at what they termed his greenness," the
people of the household, seeing that he "put
on no airs," took kindly to him and made his
stay as pleasant as possible.
VOL. XIX.- 57. 8


He had brought with him a fowling-piece
and fishing-tackle, and proceeded at once
eagerly to put these implements into use.
There was not to be had at that season much
sport with the gun; the pigeons that settled
down on the grain-fields, and the hawks and
crows that menaced his uncle's poultry, com-
prised about all that offered in the way of
legitimate shooting.
The fishing in the neighborhood was excel-
lent. His favorite stream for that purpose, the
Black Hollow brook, was a waterway so large
that logs were floated on it in the spring. Its
waters, clear and cold, had not at that time
been much visited by sportsmen from the cities,
and the trout-fishing that they afforded was
fine. Rising among wooded hills, this stream
flows for several miles through the fields of a
partly cleared country, and the remainder of its
course to the lake where it empties, lies through
the low forest region from which it derives its
name.
Soon after reentering the wooded country it
expands into a long, smooth reach about three
hundred feet long by sixty feet in width, formed
originally by an old beaver dam, the ruins of
which still hold back the water sufficiently to
form the sheet known as the Beaver Pool.
Near the head of this pool, upon the south
side, is the rock locally known as the "Fishing-
Rock," upon which we find Martin Crauthbert
seated. This large, smooth boulder rises out of
water six feet deep. Its sides are smooth and
steep, and its top is four feet above the surface
at the ordinary stage of water. Martin, in the
first week of his visit, had whipped up and
down the stream, and had found the pool to
be the best fishing place for midsummer, when
trout were seeking the deeper water. Here
the fish were generally larger than those
found in the swift current of the broken coun-
try; and to cast his line over its broad, placid






A LAND AND WATER TUSSLE.


surface was pleasanter and more profitable
than to tramp along rough wooded banks and
tangle his flies in the branches that overhung
its upper waters where they foamed downward
over rocks and ledges.
Something had happened this day to remind
him that he was in the backwoods. As he had
left the house in the morning, with fishing-rod
in hand, his uncle stood in the yard listening
with little pleasure to the story of a farm
laborer who had brought in from a remote
pasture two "pelts," or skins, which he reported
as taken from dead and partly devoured sheep
recently killed by some wild animal-a bear
was indicated by the tracks about the bodies.
"They 're gittin' around early this year,"
said the man. Them varmints generally do
their sheep-killin' arter the coming' of frost, or in
the early spring."
"It must be the work of a she-bear and
cubs," said Mr. Crauthbert. "Unless we can
kill or frighten them away, she '11 be picking at
the flock till snow flies."
Martin listened to this conversation with in-
terest. He did not know much about bears
outside of menageries, but what he had heard
of them had given him an idea that they were
undesirable customers to meet at large.
"Would a bear attack a person that came
across him in the woods, Uncle?" he asked.
"A male bear would n't be likely to show
fight unless he was cornered," was the reply.
" But with a she-bear and cubs it 's differ-
ent. She '11 tackle anything that comes near
where they are. If you ever run across such a
family in your hunting and fishing trips, you 'd
better get away from 'em as fast as you can."
As a result of this conversation Martin de-
cided to take his pistol with him on his fishing
trip. The weapon was a little twenty-two cali-
ber affair which in the western country would
have been regarded not more seriously than
a popgun; but the city boy, unpractised in
woodcraft, thought it a formidable weapon to
rely upon should he encounter any wild beast
of the forest.
With the tiny pistol and a box of cartridges in
his pocket, he had arrived with his fishing-gear
at the Beaver Pool. The space of ten feet that
lay between the high bank and the rock was


spanned by a birch-tree trunk about eight
inches through. Upon this he had learned to
walk with ease and certainty. He had folded
his coat upon the rock for a seat, and he stood
and sat by turns as he cast his line, hooking
and landing fish, most of the time at a lively
rate. By noon he had filled his creel with trout,
and, before eating his luncheon, he had taken
them to the shore, strung them upon a willow
twig, and then, first dipping them in the stream,
he had hung the "string" against the shady
side of a large tree.
During the midday hours the fish took the
bait languidly, or did not bite at all. Becoming
tired of his cramped seat on the rock, Martin
went ashore about the middle of the afternoon
to rest himself by strolling about a little. He
wandered here and there, picking and eating
such berries as were still in season, and at last
sat down under a tree.
The valley about the Beaver Pool is a dark,
gloomy depression. It is covered with a thick
pine growth bordered on higher lands by beech
and maple woods. In places windfalls have
covered great tracts with fallen trees, and
through other parts fire has run, leaving black
stumps and charred fallen tree-trunks, grown
about with raspberry and blackberry bushes.
As Martin sat idly listening, half asleep, to
the faint forest sounds, there came to his ears
the sound of crackling bushes and rustling
leaves; then a snuffing noise; and a small
black animal, as large as a medium-sized dog,
ran out into view from the undergrowth. At
sight of the boy it gave a shrill cry and darted
back into the bushes. Soon it came forth
again, accompanied by another similar animal,
and they both looked at the boy with a queer
and quizzical expression.
The two little creatures ran swiftly hither
and thither, turned over stones, munched
checkerberry plums, and nipped at raspberries
that remained on the bushes. From time to
time they sat up and gazed longingly at the
string of fish, with an eye on the young fisher-
man, or engaged in a scuffle which literally
was "bear's play "; for in their sharp ears and
poifited noses, shiny black skins and rolling
gait, a practised woodsman would have recog-
nized that the animals before him were bear





A LAND AND WATER TUSSLE.


cubs. At any movement on the boy's part
they dodged out of sight into the bushes, but,
finding that they were not pursued, soon reap-
peared. Their antics were diverting to Mar-
tin, who would have enjoyed them less had he
known the true character of the little creatures


was better off without it just then, for had it
been in hand he would have been tempted to
a disastrous shot. When within a few feet of
him, the bear whirled and ran back into the
bushes, for the purpose, it seemed, of driving
her cubs farther away. She then emerged again


J : ," i. '. ,
~: : : ,Y.',



I?

.7



,- .. :_ .- ,r 1



." -5; ,'= -

.. "-;'-' ,- T ^ ^ ,,
,' ,,*



* :, ~ ^ -%" :''
*' ** ; *'- ,^ f ~ 1


" SHE SWAM ROUND THE BOY'S STRONGHOLD, TRYING TO FIND SOME POINT THAT COULD BE SCALED."


and recognized the probability that Mama Bear
was not far away.
As the boy laughed at the cubs' perform-
ances, there came from the forest a quick rus-
tling sound, as of some invisible large body,
noiseless of footfall, advancing rapidly through
the bushes, bending them to right and left;
and a black head with pointed ears and angry
eyes was raised above the undergrowth, dis-
appeared, and in a moment more a full-grown
bear, plainly the mother of the cubs, burst into
sight and confronted Martin. At her approach
the young bears ran into the bushes, but she,
growling fiercely, ran at the boy.
Astonished and dismayed at an onslaught so
sudden and unexpected, Martin remembered
that he had left his pistol on the rock. He


to make another rush at the alarmed boy,
who very much wished himself safe -out of the
scrape. She repeated these tactics, disappear-
ing in the bushes only to reappear at some
other point and dash at the boy each time as
if she would surely seize him.
With his slight knowledge of forest lore, the
city boy was unaware that it is a common trick
of the female bear to make a feint of fiercely
attacking any creature that appears near her
cubs, when really she does not mean to fight
unless her offspring are actually imperiled.
Had he known this, he might have felt less fear
that she would lay hold of him.
.Situated as he was between the bear and the
water, Martin decided to regain the rock if
he could. Stepping cautiously backward, he


899


I


2892.]






A LAND AND WATER TUSSLE.


reached the birch-tree trunk that served as
bridge. At the moment he set his foot on it,
one of the young bears darted out of the
bushes and ran past him, almost brushing his
legs. Finding itself so near the strange human


MARTIN EXCHANGES PLA
creature, the little animal set up a cry which
made matters at once as bad as possible; for
the bear, believing her cub to be menaced,
made her attack this time in dead earnest,
plunging toward the boy with hair bristling,
eyes glaring, and sharp teeth showing viciously
in her foaming mouth.
As her intended victim dashed over the foot-
bridge to the rock, she reared at the brink on
her hind legs, growling, to clutch him; then,
falling upon all-fours, she started out upon the
log toward him. Martin caught up the end of
the tree-trunk to throw it from the rock; he
moved none too quickly, for, with her weight
upon the other end, he could scarcely raise it.
But lift it he did, and dropped it clear of the
rock just in time; and log and bear went to-
gether into the water.
The log rolled over as it fell, with the bear
beneath it, and there was a great splashing
before she could get from under it to the sur-
face. But when her head appeared and she
had swum clear of the log, instead of seeking
the shore she came straight for Martin; and
by the time he had secured his pistol her great
paws were upreared against the rock as she
rose from the water with an agile strength that
took her almost upon its top at a bound.
The smooth rock afforded no hold to her
claws, and she fell backward, while Martin in


his excitement was trying to fire his revolver
without first having cocked it. He recovered
his presence of mind sufficiently to draw back
the hammer as the bear came once more up the
face of the rock, this time getting her head and















ACES WITH THE BEAR.
shoulders as high as the top. As she struggled
to secure a foothold, Martin discharged the
pistol directly in her face, and fired two more
shots at her as once again she soused back into
the water.
She showed no signs that any of his shots
had hit her, but seemed more angry and active
than ever as she swam round the boy's strong-
hold, trying to find some point that could be
scaled. The log, floating near the shore, had
swung against the rock, and the bear now used
it as a stepping-block. Scrambling over this
support, she planted her hind feet upon it, and
sprang upward a third time. Martin, who kept
up his firing, delivered his last bullet as she came
fully on the rock. Without waiting to see the
effect of his shot, Martin turned and dived into
the stream, as far from the rock as possible.
The waters closed above his head, and he
swallowed more of the fluid than he liked, but
in time he came to the surface, his joy over the
return to free air greatly dampened by the ex-
pectation that his vindictive foe was waiting to
pounce upon him. Fortunately, he was a good
swimmer. He caught a glimpse of the threaten-
ing black form upon the high rock, and, diving
at once, swam under water as long as he could,
toward the other side of the pool. When he
came up for breath, near the middle, it was with
the fear that he should find the bear swimming


900oo







A LAND AND WATER TUSSLE.


behind him, and the dismal thought that he
might have the double unpleasantness of being
torn and drowned at the same time. Hearing
no sound of pursuit, he looked over his shoul-
der. The bear, still upon the rock, lay with her
paws and head over the edge, as if she were
about to plunge after him. But the head was
quite limp.
The bear was dead! His last bullet had
reached a vital spot.
Not daring to trust to appearances, and ap-
prehensive that his indomitable foe might yet
come to life, Martin swam to the opposite shore.
He made his way through the alders to the
head of the pool, and, keeping on the farther
side of the stream, followed its bank out of the


woods to the country road which took him to
his uncle's house.
There he told his story, and guided the farm
hands to where the bear lay stretched upon the
rock with the pistol lying beside her. The cubs
darted away at the approach of the searchers,
and could not be
found. The little
creatures werelarge
enough to shift for
themselves; sothey
probably turned
up in course of
time as killers of
sheep on their own
account.


tjr ,/, x~4


C ,..


.12
.3,,'~


INDIAN SUMMER.


_ __


9oi










INANIMATE THINGS ANIMATED.


BY P. NEWELL.


BOBBY SLATE TO BOBBY PENCIL-"WOULD YOU PLEASE RUB MY EYES OUT, AND DRAW THEM
OVER? YOU PUT THEM IN SO CROOKED THAT ALL THE BOYS CALL ME 'SQUINT-EYE'!"


I.
ALARM-CLOCK (pounding his gong)--" Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling "


II.
(Throwing his gong aside) -" Well, if a noise won't waken you,
I '11 see what effect blows will have! (Whack, whack, whack !)









A PAGE OF FUN.

BY MALCOLM DOUGLAS.


"I'VE found a cake!" said a sparrow;
And the other birds cried, "How nice!
Is there any frosting on it?"
"Yes, lots; it's a cake of ice!"

The paper doll loved the china doll.
Will you be my wife?" said he.
Oh, you 're just shear nonsense," she laughed,
"that's all!
You were n't cut out for me!"

A RIDDLE.
It only has two letters;
In print you 've often met it;
It has an eye, but cannot see;
Now guess right, and you '11 get it.

Said a thousand-legg'd worm,
As he gave a great squirm,
" Has any one seen a leg of mine?
If it can't be found,
I '11 have to get round
With only nine hundred and ninety-nine!"

In Dreamtiddy there 's a garden
Where candies grow all round;
And you don't need even a permit
To gather them by the pound.
There 's a finer assortment grows there
Than the best confectioners keep;
Who knows, now, but you have been there
And eaten them-in your sleep?

Nine little tailors stitched away,
All cross-legged, and in a row.
"How do you like it?" they were asked;
Oh," said they, "it is just sew-sew."

A firefly with his tiny lamp
Played officer one night,
And made the rounds of all the flow'rs
To see that things went right;
And, happening to find a bee
Who 'd robbed a lily-bell,
He marched him straightway to a hive,
And put him in a cell.


Says old Ben to young Ben,
"A cap'n you'll be some day;
Even nowr you hitches your little breeches
In a nautical kind o' way!"

While a little man one night talked about-
I 've forgotten just what--the lights went
out.
"Humph! said the little man; "that will
do "
So all of the people went out too!


wow---


C~-T-~~5-~
--e ~b?
I~rr~-6












































By M. HELEN FRASER LOVETT.


THE palace tall and stately stands,
And still and cold and white;
And 'soldiers guard the palace gate
With flashing bayonets bright.


And frightened little peasant Carl
To pass them does not dare,
Although he has the king's own ring
As warrant to be there.


Full many a mile had traveled
The weary little feet;
And Carl his story on the way
Made ready to repeat:


How the king's life his father saved
In battle long ago,
And how the monarch gave the ring
His gratitude to show.


~i~






THE SERVANTS OF THE KING.


"There's Hans, who blacks the servants'
shoes,
He knew my father, too;
He 'll dare to speak to some one else,
Who '11 tell me what to do."


"I wait on you, you beggar boy!
Faith! I '11 do no such thing.
/V I serve the man who 's servant to
The man who serves the king!


"And here's my master now.
Be off!"
But as Carl turned away,
A rough, good-natured voice broke in
With, "What's amiss to-day?"

"'I SERVE THE MAN WHO 'S SERVANT TO THE MAN WHO Count Otto's valet well he knew,-
SERVES THE KINqA"
SERVES THE N He 'd seen the man
How, prouder than of gold or ease, before;
He kept it to the end, And, taking heart
And, dying, said unto his child: again, poor Carl
"The king will be your friend. .His story told once
More.
" Go to the palace
with this,
Carl "-
Buthere Carl's
heart would
sink;
For how to gain
the mon-
arch's ear
The poor boy I
could not
think.

"If the king's ser-
vants are so
grand,
How grand the
king must be;
He 'll never no-
tice, I 'm
afraid,
A ragged boy -
like me. "'I 'D HAVE YOU KNOW I 'M SERVANT TO THE MAN WHO SERVES THE KING.'"






THE SERVANTS OF THE KING.


" Oh, sir! Hans says you 've seen the k
And (though, of course, you 're grain
Just through the palace door, perhaps,
You '11 let me hold your hand "-



Here the man frowned and shook his 1
No, boy, it would n't do.
Of course I 'm sorry, but you see
That, even if 't is true,



I should n't like to risk my
place
For such a paltry thing.
I 'd have you know I 'm
servant to
The man who serves the
king! "



While poor Carl lingered near
the door,
Or wandered to and fro,-
For, homeless, hungry, and /
forlorn,
He knew not where to go,-



A coach drew to the palace
door,
And soon the palace street
Echoed with many voices
And the tread of hurrying
feet.



" The king comes forth!" he heard them
And faster beat Carl's heart.
The king! Oh, that in all the crowd
Some one would take his part!



" The king!" "Not yet. Count Otto coi
Look! there he is; this way."
A counselor, with kind, grave eyes,
Strode through that dense array.


Carl dried his tears with sudden thought-
I 'm sure that he '11 believe."
And, pressing through the crowd, he caught
Count Otto by the sleeve.



He heard Carl's story kindly,
But turned to go his way:
"Ah, yes, poor child. I '11 take you
To the king; but not to-day.


"'SMALL HEED TO GIVE TO TRIFLES HAS THE MAN WHO
SERVES THE KING.'

say; Some other time. Just now I 've many
A more important thing. *
Small heed to give to trifles
Has the man who serves the king."



mes. "Room for the king!" "Stand back, you dolt!"
Soldiers and people cried.
And Carl was pulled by eager hands,
And roughly pushed aside.


go6






THE SERVANTS OF THE KING.


The child could hardly see through tears;
But one thought filled his mind:
"The king! I '11 see the king at last,
Who was so hard to find."

And, breaking from the hindering hands,
He blocked the way once more
By which the king that instant came
Forth from the palace door.

A ragged, shivering, frightened child,
Barefoot, with tangled hair,
And courage born of hopelessness,
The king saw standing there.



" Let the child stay!" The crowd was still,
And Carl stood in amaze.


Was this kind voice the dreaded king's?
Was this the monarch's gaze?

Was this the king's ?-this gracious face,
That looked down at the boy?
What cause for fear then could Carl
have?
He almost laughed for joy.

"Oh, Sire! It 's true, then. Father said
That you would be my friend."
And, spite of waiting throngs, the king
The tale heard to the end.

"Your father saved my life, my child;
I will -redeem the ring.
To serve his faithful people
Is the best right of a king."













TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


By LIEUT. R. H. FLETCHER.


CHAPTER XXV.

ONE morning-it was the day that began the
second month- Mildred was going to ride with
Cousin John to a distant part of the ranch, to
see them "round up" a herd of cattle. She
was standing on the porch waiting for Pedro
to bring "Dandy," when the mail-rider came
out of the forest opposite. Mildred ran to
meet him as he cantered up to the house, her
heart keeping time with her footsteps. The
man stopped, and drawing a package from his
saddle-bags, handed it to her with a Good
morning," and, putting spurs to his horse, was
off and away down the trail to Rocky Bar.
Sitting down on the porch, Mildred eagerly
untied the string. Besides the newspapers,
which she cared nothing for, there were three
letters. The first was for-Cousin John; the
second was for-Cousin John; the third was
for- Miss Mildred Dwight Fairleigh. And
when she recognized the dear, familiar hand-
writing of her mother, Miss Mildred Dwight
Fairleigh gave a little cry of joy and hugged
the precious envelop to her breast. A few
minutes later Cousin John came along, booted
and spurred, and found Mildred, with flushed
cheeks and sparkling eyes, poring over a six-
page letter.
So," he said, "it has come at last, has it ?
Well, you deserve it." And sitting down beside
her, he continued, "And now, tell me, what is
the news?"
"They leave for home on the steamer of the
24th," said Mildred, in great excitement.
"Do they ?" said Cousin John. "Well, then,
they will be in San Francisco about the 3d of
March-not quite three weeks."
Oh, my! I am so glad!" cried Mildred,
jumping up to dance a little, and then sitting
down to the letter again. "And papa," she


continued, "is ever so much better. Just listen
to what mama says:
"I have good news to tell you about papa. The sea
voyage has done him a great deal of good. We had very
pleasant weather all of the time; the water was so smooth
that he was able to sit out on deck all day long. And
after his arrival here, we found that he had actually
gained five pounds. Does not that nobly reward us-
you and me? It is the rainy season here now, and we
cannot be out of doors as much as I could wish; but
still, papa enjoys the change. He likes being on the
ocean best, however, and looks forward to returning to
San Francisco with pleasure, partly on account of the
good it does him, but mostly, he says, that he may see
his little girl once more. As for me "-

Here Mildred hesitated and stopped, and then
looked up at Cousin John and said shyly,
"Then mama tells me how much she wants
to see me."
Exactly," said Cousin John, nodding his
head; "I understand."
But," said Mildred, there 's a message for
you. Mama says-let me see. Oh, yes, here
it is:

Remember us affectionately to Cousin John, and tell
him that we often speak of him and of his kindness to
us and to you."

"Thank you," said Cousin John; "that is a
very nice message."
Then they talked about the letter a little
more, and of the joy that was in store for Mil-
dred when she should go back to San Francisco
to welcome home the travelers.
"We will leave here in about a week or ten
days," said Cousin John. I can easily arrange
matters on the ranch so that I can get away in
that time. And then we will stay about a week
in Arcata, where I have to attend to some busi-
ness before we go to San Francisco."
It was a glorious ride that they took that
morning up over the hills to the round-up.






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY:


Mildred had developed a natural fondness for
horseback riding, and under Cousin John's in-
structions she had become a fearless rider.
And this morning, being in high spirits, when-
ever the trail came out on an open level she
challenged Cousin John to race, an amusement
of which Dandy was quite as fond as Mildred.
When at last they reached the ridge, nearly a
thousand feet above the level of the valley, they
stopped to let the horses breathe, while Mr.
Kenilworth dismounted to tighten the cinches.
It had been raining the night before, and though
the sun had come out there were still a few
scattered clouds flying low over the tops of
the distant pine forests, like sheep scrambling
through brambles, leaving shreds and tatters of
their fleecy mist scattered along the mountain-
side. A fresh, cold breeze was blowing, and.the
air was. so clear that they could see the coun-
try for miles about. Mildred's black eyes were
sparkling and her cheeks were a rosy red as she
took off her hat and shook back the hair that
had blown about her face.
"Well," said Cousin John, "I don't believe
that your mother would know you, little va-
quera, if she saw you now."
No," said Mildred, laughing; I don't be-
lieve that she would. Dear mama!" and she
looked wistfully off to the west, where the un-
seen Pacific lay.

CHAPTER XXVI.
WHEN the news of her approaching departure
was spread over the ranch, Mildred was quite
surprised and touched to find that every one
was sorry to have her go. Mrs. Stokes openly
declared that she did not know what she would
do without her.
"Laws sakes! she said, "I reckon it ain't
meant fur ye to git lovin' anything' too much
in this world, 'cause ye're bound to lose it-
without it might be hard work; there 's always
plenty o' that."
Mildred's last week at the ranch went quickly.
Indeed, she could hardly realize that the time
for her departure had come when the important
morning arrived. Mrs. Stokes had been busy
late into the night "gittin' things ready," though
what there was to get ready she would have
found it rather difficult to say.


She had helped Mildred pack her trunk, and
in the morning when the wagon was at the door
she appeared with her big sunbonnet drawn
well over her head; and only Mildred, when
she put her face inside that sunbonnet to kiss her
good-by, knew that the good woman was crying.
As for Bud, he soon appeared with a big
bunch of rare wild flowers which he did not
seem to know what to do with. When Mil-
dred went up to him to wish him good-by, she
saw the flowers and exclaimed:
Oh, Bud, you've been up to Crow's Nest!"
for she knew that this particular flower grew
nowhere else.
"Well, you see," said Bud, hanging his head
sheepishly, "I jest happened to be passing' by
thar, an' I kinder thought mebby you might
like to take 'em along."
Now Mildred knew very well that Bud must
have got up very early in the morning to go to
Crow's Nest, and that he had had to climb the
face of the cliff at the risk of his neck for these
flowers, which he knew to be her favorites.
But she simply thanked him and said:
"It was very kind of you, Bud. I will take
them home with me and press them, and keep
them always to remind me of the ranch."
"Will ye?" said Bud, rubbing his hand up
and down his overalls. I wish ye would."
Then last of all there was Wing. He had
come out and stowed away a big bundle in the
.wagon, which he explained to Mr. Kenilworth
was "a li'l' lunch-ee fo' Mild'ed." And he
now stood waiting with a grin on his face.
Goo'-by," he said, as Mildred shook hands
with him. I t'ank-a you vella much. Bym-
by mebby you come again, stay long time.
Tha's good."
Then Mildred mounted to her seat by the
side of Cousin John; the horses trotted down to
the creek, splashed through it, and climbed the
opposite bank. Mildred turned and waved her
hand to the little group at the house; and the
next moment they had entered the green dark-
ness of the pine forest, and Sweet Water ranch
was a thing of the past.

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE sun was rising as the steamer from
Humboldt came into San Francisco harbor


909





TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


through the Golden Gate." On the steamer's
deck, as far forward as she could get, stood
Mildred. As she watched the level rays of the
sun gilding the top of Point Lobos lighthouse
on the one hand, and the Cliff House on the
other, and the red brick walls of Fort Point just
beyond, and thought of
the mother and father
she was so soon to see, '
this seemed a real, a
true "golden gate."
Mildred could scarcely
realize that two months
had passed since she
had sailed out of that
harbor a most unhappy
little girl; and yet in
some ways it seemed b
as though she was two
years rather than two
months older. .
The steamer swung in
to the dock, and Cou-
sin John helped her .
down the gang-plank i.
and through the crowd
of trucks and wagons
and shouting hackmen.
Entering a carriage,
they were soon once
again in the familiar
courtyard of the hotel.
Cousin John had ar-
ranged their departure '.
from Arcata so that
they had arrived in San
Francisco on the day
that the Australian -
steamer was expected. COUSIN
Mildred was in constant
fear that it would arrive before they could be at
the wharf to meet it; but it was late in the
afternoon before it was signaled. Then Mil-
dred immediately became so excited that she
could only hurry down to the waiting carriage
and sit there silently with her hands clasped, as
they once more rattled through the crowded
business streets to the city front. They reached
the wharf in plenty of time to see the great
ocean craft coming slowly up the bay, its glis-


tening black sides looming out of the water,
and its decks covered with people. It was too
far off to distinguish faces, but at last Mildred
caught sight of her mother and father standing
together close by the rail. At the same mo-
ment her mother saw her and waved her hand-


....." ".' ".ii'i ,, ,li .

', ', ,,,,,
-:


AM


A
I..
1
,7'
O


OOHN AND MILDRED RIDE TO THE ROUND-UP.

kerchief, and her father waved his hat. Amid
an uproar of hoarse orders, the shouts and greet-
ings of friends ashore to friends aboard, and
the hissing of escaping steam, the hawsers were
run out and made fast, and in a few minutes
Mildred was once more in her mother's arms,
and then in her father's. How they all got
back to the hotel, Mildred never knew. It was
not until her father had gone to lie down, and
Cousin John had gone out, and she and her


9Io


* <






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


mother were at last alone together, that Mil-
dred began to realize that her first real little
battle of life was over, with nothing but joy and
satisfaction left.
"How brown you are, sweetheart, and how
well you look! said her mother. "But you
certainly are changed," she added. Stand
over there, and let me look at you."
And Mildred obediently stepped back a few
paces and, drawing herself up, made a military
salute after the fashion of General Washing-
ton" in Charlie's play.
"It positively seems as though you had
grown," said her mother, with a little sigh.
" Or is it because I have been away? What
good care Cousin John must have taken of you."
Indeed he did, Mama," said Mildred, com-
ing back to her mother's lap. "You 've no idea
how good and kind he was to me."
And she went on to tell about the ranch and
Dandy, the beautiful Dandy; and she told how
she had ridden over the mountain trails with
Cousin John, nearly every day, and of the im-
mense herds of cattle, and the cow-boys who
were such famous riders and daring fellows,
and of Mrs. Stokes, and the chickens and tur-
keys and calves, and of Mr. Stokes, with whom
she had sat perched up on the high seat of the
farm-wagon, and of fishing with Bud, and of
all the other pleasures of that free Western life.
They seemed doubly pleasant to Mildred her-
self, now that they were past and gone.
How do you think papa looks? her mother
said. She had already asked Mildred this ques-
tion several times, but she took pleasure in hear-
ing her say again and again how much improved
her father was. And Mildred told her once
more that she could never remember having
seen him look so well.
"You know, dear," said her mother, "that
I feel more anxious than ever about papa. He
thinks he is now well enough to have the
surgeon try to remove the cruel bullet that has
caused him all these years of sickness. He has
great faith in Dr. Merton, and if the operation
is successful papa may get entirely well. And
yet, there is great danger, Mildred, and oh! I
dread it so. I am afraid I am a great coward,"
she added, trying to smile. "But it is such a
comfort to have you with me, dear," she added.


"I can't tell you how I have missed my little
girl all these days. And now, if anything should
happen to papa, I would have only you in all
the world." And Mrs. Fairleigh put her hand
to her eyes, and pressed away the tears that
she could not hide.
Mildred was a little frightened at this speech,
for it was not often that her mother gave way to
her feelings like this. But where, as formerly,
she would simply have cried in childish sym-
pathy, Mildred now sat up and said quietly,
"Mama dear, listen I understand about papa
a great deal better than you suppose I do. I
don't think that when you used to talk to me
about his being sick, and I saw the care you
took of him, that I knew exactly what it all
meant. But I do now. For while I was
away I used to lie awake at night-and think
about you both; and things that you said and
did long ago came back to me, only in a dif-
ferent way, so that I understood. And after I
got your letter, in which you spoke about
what the doctor intended to do, I thought
a great deal about that. And, Mama, I know
that the doctor will make papa well; I don't
know how I know it, but I seem to feel sure
of it. I am so sure of it, Mama," she added,
"that I am not afraid. So you must n't be
afraid either." And she smiled bravely up at
her mother through'the tears that had gathered
in her own eyes.
"You are a dear little comforter," said her
mother, taking the earnest face in both of her
hands and kissing it, and we won't be down-
hearted any more."

CHAPTER XXVIII.
MILDRED had need of all her hope and con-
fidence to help her through the great trial that
was about to take place. And when the hour
arrived that was to determine whether her father
was to live or die, she tried her best to be brave
for her mother's sake. But when she saw the
doctor and his assistant enter the sick-room, and
the door close upon them, she felt her courage
slip away from her altogether. She was left
alone now, her mother and Cousin John being
with her father. At the last moment her mother
had bidden her to be within call.
In time, after what seemed hours of waiting


1892.]






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


and listening, the door opened, and her mother,
looking very white, came out; and, taking Mil-
dred by the hand, she went into her own room
and gently closed the door. Then putting her
arms around Mildred's neck, she whispered:
" He is going to get well, my darling. He is
going to get well !" And, weeping for joy, they
both knelt and gave thanks in silent prayer.
Shockingly white and weak was Major Fair-
leigh when Mildred was at last admitted to his
bedside. But the little gray doctor explained
that only quiet and good nursing were now
needed to bring him back to health, and we
may be sure that he received these. In ten
days' time he was pronounced well enough to
take a short ride. That was a gala-day for
Mildred and her mother. At the end of two
weeks the doctor ordered them all off to Santa
Barbara, where the patient could remain out of
doors all day long and be benefited by the
California winter climate. Cousin John accom-
panied them--indeed, they could not well have
gone without him.
And here, in a hammock, with the life-giving
sunlight streaming down upon him, breathing
the soft, balmy air of the orange groves, the
Major lay lazily contented, gaining strength
from Mother Nature. Indeed, this was a period
of peace and rest for all of them, after the anx-
iety of the last few months, and one to which
they ever afterward looked back with delight.
This pleasant monotony was broken at the
end of the first week by the departure of Cousin
John. His presence was no longer a necessity
to the Major, who was able by this time to walk
about with the assistance of his cane, and Mr.
Kenilworth had his business interests to look
after in Arcata. Mildred put her arms around
his neck and begged him not to leave them.
Cousin John was pleased and touched by her
affectionate pleadings.
Little cousin," he said, "I don't want to
go. The hills will be very lonely for me now,
as I ride over them with no little vaquera at
my side. But we must take the good and the
bad as it comes in this world, and be thankful
that it is not all bad."
Mildred did not find much comfort in this
view of the matter, but she had to accept it.
She loaded him with messages to be given to


Mr. Stokes, and Bud, and Pedro,. and all of
the men, and numerous words of undying love
to be whispered in Dandy's velvety ear, all of
which Cousin John promised faithfully to de-
liver. To Mrs. Stokes Mildred wrote a long
letter, while her father sent to each and all of
the people on the ranch some little present in
her name, as a remembrance of their kindness
to his little girl. Major Fairleigh himself was
very sorry to take leave of his cousin-more
sorry than he cared to show. Mrs. Fairleigh,
on the other hand, did not try to hide how sorry
she was. I shall never forget you," she said,
as she gave him her hand. Words seem trite
and commonplace when I try to thank you.
But I don't know how Will would have gotten
through all this without you; and as for me,
you have been my constant source of strength
and comfort in all these trying days. Good-
by, and God bless you, dear Cousin John."
And so the ship sailed away, as ships will do
in this life, bearing upon its deck this strong
man who had proved himself so tender and
true a friend. Were they never to meet again ?
If he did not meet the Fairleighs again, it
was not for lack of hearty invitations for
Cousin John to visit them in the old home in
Washington.
Then, as I say, followed further loitering, in
that land of the orange and the palm, for Mil-
dred, her father, and mother: weeks in which
the Major gained strength in the soft air of
southern California, wandering in shady groves
beneath the wide leaves of the fig-tree, the
slender, dark leaves of the olive and the al-
mond. From Santa Barbara they went to Los
Angeles, and then slowly north to the old Span-
ish town of Monterey, and thence to San Jose,
which is quite near to San Francisco.
Finally, one day, Major Fairleigh declared
that the object of their journey to the West had
been accomplished, that he was almost well
now, and that it was high time for them to re-
turn home. And, although these soft, lazy
days had been full of pleasure to Mildred and
her mother, I do not think that either of them
regretted this decision. And when, in two or
three days, they returned to San Francisco, and
with Doctor Merton's consent actually packed
their trunks and took passage on the overland


912






s892.' TWO GIRLS
train that was to bear them back to Washing-
ton, Mildred's heart bounded with joy.

CHAPTER XXIX.
AND so once more the flying wheels chanted
their iron song to Mildred's ears only now it
was an endless glee, with nothing of sadness
in it. Up and over the mountain-tops and
down again to the great prairies of the West,
rocking them to sleep hundreds of miles from
where they awoke, the train swung on its


AND A BOY. 913

to the iron song that seemed to ring with a
gladder stroke as each turn brought them
nearer home. Then came the last day on the
train, and then the last hour, when satchels
were packed and coats were shaken and
brushed, and then the dome of the Capitol,
like a great summer cloud in the afternoon
sky, loomed into view; and by and by, with a
final clatter and rat-a-plan-plan, the song of
the iron wheels ceased.
Through the depot with its hurrying crowds


;`~-V



"IN ANSWER TO CHARLIE'S EAGER QUESTIONS, IMIILDRED WENT ON TO TELL THEM ALL ABOUT THE RANCH.


homeward way. Past the now well-known
sights of ranches and frontier settlements, cow-
boys, Indians, and herds of cattle, on to the
Missouri and its growing towns, with steam,
and smoke, and hammering stroke they sped
along.
After they had passed the Missouri, Mil-
dred's glad eyes saw the country change;
trees, so scarce in the West, now greeted her
at every turn, while the wooden bridges over
rivers and creeks added their deep bass notes
VOL. XIX. -58.


and trucks piled high with trunks, Mildred and
her father and mother once more made their
way. At the entrance they found Eliza's hus-
band waiting for them with a welcoming grin
on his black face. How familiar and yet how
strange the streets looked as Mildred gazed at
them out of the carriage window, too excited
and too happy to speak! Up Pennsylvania
Avenue and into Sixteenth Street the carriage
swiftly rolled, and there-yes, there was the
dear, old, yellow brick house, with its iron rail-





TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


ings, and stone-capped windows, and steep
roof, and high chimneys, just as it was when
they had left it! No, not just as it was, but
dearer, far dearer, than when Mildred had
bidden it good-by four months ago. Four
months! Was it only four months ago ? It
seemed an age.
As the carriage stopped, the front door
opened, and there were Amanda and Eliza
dressed in their best, waiting to receive them.
"Welcome home, Mars' Will! Welcome
home, Mis' Mary! Welcome home, Miss
Milderd! they cried. "Oh, but we 's mighty
glad to see you! We is indeed!"
And the joy that beamed in their honest faces
bespoke the truth of this. But when Amanda
saw the Major walk into the hall without his
crutches, she threw up her hands and fairly
wept aloud, giving praises .to God in her
homely way for His goodness in bringing her
beloved master back so well and strong.
How can I give an idea of Mildred's delight
at being once more at home? By the number
of times she ran up stairs and down? By.the
number of times she danced into every room
and out again? By the number of times she
clapped her hands and exclaimed," Oh, I'm so
glad to get back!" These would give but a
poor notion, after all. She did not wait to take
off her traveling-wraps, but flew out into the
garden, first of all, to see the dear old trees
and plants which were just putting forth their
buds and leaves, as though in welcome.
Then into the kitchen she pranced, the cozy
old kitchen, and then into the dining-room,
where the fire-light beamed upon the polished
mahogany sideboard and on the snowy table-
service with its burnished silver and glass ware.
And then on into the parlor, where the pictures
of Gentleman Fairleigh who had built the
house in 18io, and the Widow Peachy, and
Barbara, of Revolutionary fame, and Captain
Fairleigh, with the fighting ships behind him,
all looked pleasantly down upon her from their
frames. And then into the library, where stood
her father's easy-chair by the round oak table,
and her mother's rocking-chair on the other
side, and her own little seat where she had
studied her lessons in the evening,- all as they
had stood that wonderful night when the plan


to go to California had first been spoken of.
Only now she would no longer have to give
her father his crutches as he arose painfully to
his feet, for they had brought him back cured!
Then up to her own little bedroom, with all
its familiar objects bringing back such happy
recollections of bygone days, and thence to
her mother's dear sitting-room, and then up to
the attic, to the delightful old play-room,-ex-
cept that it looked smaller to Mildred, it was
unchanged. As she gazed around she drew a
long sigh of happy content. There were the
dormer windows, with the dolls' bedroom and
parlor, and the big brick chimneys on which
were hung up the play pots and pans, and over
in the corner the old cowhide trunk studded
with brass nails, of which Leslie had made a
pirate ship the day they had dressed themselves
up, and Charlie had come to see them. Yes,
and there was the spinning-wheel that they had
used in the play, and all the other well-known
odds and ends of boxes and broken furniture.
And after the dinner, whidh was a regular
Christmas affair, Mildred sat with her father
and mother in the library for a little while talk-
ing over this joyous return to their home.

CHAPTER XXX.
ALMOST the first thought that Mildred had
on opening her eyes the next morning was of
Leslie and Charlie. The very first thought
was to wonder where she was,-in San Fran-
cisco, at Cousin John's ranch, on the railroad
train, or at home ? But having slowly de-
cided that she was in her own dear little room
at home, she thought about Leslie and Char-
lie. She talked about them at breakfast, and
as soon as breakfast was finished she put on
her hat and coat and ran around to Leslie's
house.
Charlie had gone to school, but Leslie was
Still up-stairs getting ready for school. And
when Mrs. Morton, after welcoming Mildred,
went to the foot of the stairs and called her,
saying, Mildred 's here! Leslie came rac-
ing down, taking the last four steps at a leap,
and threw her arms around Mildred and gave
her such a hug that it took her breath away.
Oh, Dreddy! she cried, with her blue eyes
rounder than ever, "you don't know how glad


914






TWO GIRLS AND A BOY.


915


I am to see you! I missed you awfully when
you went away, and now I 'm so glad that
you 've come back!"
Straightway she began to ask all sorts of
questions about where Mildred had been and
what she had done, and without waiting for an
answer to any of them, she commenced to tell
her all that had happened at home,-about the
girls at school and the teachers, and how she
had n't spoken to Carrie Wilkins since the
night of the party, and what Charlie had been
doing; and in the midst of it all, the well-known
omnibus, with "Loring Seminary" painted on
the side, stopped in front of the house and
carried her off, in spite of her begging to be
allowed to make it a holiday on account of
Mildred's return.
I '11 come around and see you just as soon
as school is out," she said, as the omnibus
drove away.
And a few minutes after three Leslie appeared
at Mildred's home. Then the two, with their
arms around each other's waist, went up-stairs
to the attic, where, as Leslie said, they could
have "a real good talk." But scarcely had
they settled down, with Leslie in the hammock,
which had been hung between the chimneys,
and Mildred on the trunk, when a footstep was
heard on the stairs, just as of old.
Leslie jumped up, and whispering, "There
comes Charlie!" ran on tiptoe to the door
arid turned the key in the lock. And then, in
answer to his knock, Leslie called through the
keyhole, "You can't come in; we 're busy!"
"Is Mildred there ? said Charlie.
"Yes," replied Mildred herself. Let him
in, Leslie."
Then Leslie, laughing, opened the door, and
in walked Charlie. He seemed a little em-
barrassed, perhaps by Leslie's nonsense, and
blushed, and was not altogether the self-pos-
sessed young man who had met Mildred in the
attic for the first time some seven or eight
months before. Mildred, on the contrary, was
not at all embarrassed, but was honestly glad
to see him, and told him so.


And I 'm mighty glad to see you, Mildred,"
said Charlie.
Are n't you going to shake hands with me,
then?" said Mildred. For Charlie had just
stood there staring at her.
Then Charlie offered her his hand, laughing
at his own forgetfulness.
"Sit down on the trunk," said Mildred.
Leslie and I will sit in the hammock. Do
you know," she added, as Leslie made room
for her, I did n't see any hammocks in Cali-
fornia that were half so nice as this one you
made me. A boy named Bud, on Cousin John's
ranch, made me a hammock, and what do you
think he made it out of? Barrel-staves! It was
very nice, but it was n't anything like this."
"I wish I was on a ranch!" said Charlie.
"Tell us about it, Mildred. You must have
had a glorious time. Did you have a horse
to ride? "
"Yes, indeed I did! said Mildred.
And, in answer to Charlie's eager questions,
she went on to tell them about Dandy, and
about all that she had seen and done on Sweet
Water ranch.
Having so much to say to each other, the
time slipped away very quickly, and they were
all surprised to find how late it was when Eliza
came up to say that Mrs. Morton was down-
stairs calling on Mrh. Fairleigh, and had asked
for Leslie.
As they were about to leave the room,
Charlie, who had been rather silent, said to
Mildred, "I don't think I ever saw any one
change as much as you have since you .have
been away."
Do you think I have changed ?" said Mil-
dred. "That's what every one says, but I
don't see how."
"Well," said Charlie, "I don't know how,
exactly, either.. But you certainly have changed.
You seem to be like a different person."
"I 'm not," said Mildred, smiling. "Al-
though," she added, looking around the attic,
" I'm afraid I don't care so much for my dolls
as I used to."


THE END.










HOW COLUMBUS RECKONED.

BY ROYALL BASCOM SMITHEY.


DURING the fifteenth century, the Portuguese
won great glory by their boldness and enterprise
as sailors, and by the zeal they showed in the
cause of discovery. So great had been their
success in making explorations that they were
led to hope they could find a new route by sea
to India, which they believed would bring a
golden tide of prosperity to their country.
There was much to encourage them to prose-
cute this enterprise. The trade with the East
Indies had long been monopolized by the Ital-
ians. To it the republics of Venice and Genoa
owed their great wealth and influence. It was
a trade that had enriched all parts of Europe
it had touched. It came into Europe by way
of the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. The
Portuguese were far removed from its course.
But they believed if they could find a new route
to India they would be able to turn this trade
from the channels in which it had flowed for
centuries, and bring it to Portugal.
The plan by which they sought to attain their
object was to sail south till they had gone
round Africa, and then to turn east and reach
Asia. In 1470 when Columbus came to Lisbon


this project filled the public mind. He came
as a stranger, with no particular mark of dis-
tinction. He was only one of many bold
navigators who were anxious to venture out
into unknown seas. Why, then, did the honor
of discovering America fall to him? What
enabled him to reckon so wisely that the won-
ders of the New World first became known
through him ?
This question is full of interest. We find an
answer, to it partly in the character of Colum-
bus and partly in the circumstances that sur-
rounded him.
The mind of Columbus was strong and re-
flective. He knew well how to sift evidence
and to give due weight to every incident that
came under his notice. He was endowed, too,
with a rich imagination, which furnished him
with many valuable theories upon which to
work. In addition to all this, he was enthusi-
astic, and ambitious to distinguish himself. Al-
together he was unusually well qualified by
nature to originate a bold. plan for a voyage
of exploration.
He came to Lisbon, too, at a time when the






HOW COLUMBUS RECKONED.


very air was full of speculations as to lands be-
yond the great Atlantic ocean.
It seems probable that Columbus first reached
the conclusion that land lay west of Europe
shortly after his marriage to Donna Felipa, the
daughter of Palestrello. This union was a
happy one for him, for it brought him into
associations that stimulated his ambition as a
navigator; and to it perhaps in no small mea-
sure his success was due. His wife was the
daughter of one of the most distinguished cap-
tains who had served under Prince Henry of
Portugal. He had discovered the islands of
Porto Santo and Madeira, and had settled col-
onies upon them. At his death, which occurred
before Columbus married his daughter, he left
a large number of notes, maps, and manuscripts.
These came into the hands of Columbus, who
carefully studied them, and found out from them
the routes the Portuguese had followed in their
voyages, and the plans they had adopted in
searching for the route to India.
Columbus soon formed the opinion that Asia
might be reached by a more direct way than
the one the Portuguese were trying to follow,
that is, by sailing directly west across the Atlan-
tic. He was not content to hold this opinion
as a mere theory, as some learned men before
him had done; but, on every side, he sought
evidence to confirm it.
It is interesting at the present day to follow,
as well as we can, the growth of this idea in
the mind of Columbus from the time he first
entertained it till it became so firmly fixed in
his thoughts that the desire of his life was to
test its truth. We will accordingly take a brief
glance at some of the evidence to which he
trusted.
We find he believed the earth was a globe,
and he was acquainted with the calculations
that had been made in regard to its magnitude.
The estimates made of its size differed con-
siderably. Columbus adopted one that made
the earth much smaller than it really is. But
even upon his view of the earth's surface
Europe, Asia, and Africa as far as known,
formed only a small part of it.
What, then, lay beyond the Atlantic ? Was
there no opposite shore ? Columbus believed
the ocean was hemmed in by land. The the-


ory that the earth was spherical was sufficient
to suggest this idea to him. His knowledge
of geography made him think the land on the
other side would belong to Asia.
He looked into the evidence which had
come from ancient times to support the opin-
ion that land could be found west of Europe.
It was a known fact that the Carthaginians
had ventured a little way out in the Atlantic.
They had discovered the Canary Isles, and per-
haps also the Madeira Islands and the Azores.
In the writings of the ancient poets, Colum-
bus found hints of islands in the Atlantic, some
of which were supposed to be places where
peace, happiness, and rest from the troubles of
life could be found.
Tradition said, however, that there was great
danger in trying to navigate the oceans be-
yond the Straits of Gibraltar. The columns of
rock which guarded the entrance to the Straits
were called the Pillars of Hercules. Beyond
these men were afraid to venture, because, ac-
cording to a legend, there once had been a
great island in the Atlantic opposite the Pil-
lars. Plato described it and named it Atlantis.
During an earthquake, it had sunk; and its
surface made great sandbanks just beneath
the water, upon which all ships which dared
go beyond the Pillars were stranded. There
is reason to believe'that Columbus had heard
all these tales.
The Portuguese navigators, before Colum-
bus came among them, had lost some of the
fear of the great ocean which had made sail-
ors in ancient times keep so close to the shore.
Trusting to the guidance of the mariner's com-
pass, which had come into use, they had visited
the Madeiras and the Azores. Occasionally,
too, a wandering bark, driven from its course
by a storm, brought back tales of strange islands
dimly sighted in the distance.
In this way accounts came of an island
that had been seen some leagues west of the
Canaries. It was even put down upon maps.
It was called St. Brandan, because there was a
story that an Irish abbot of that name had
discovered it in the sixth century.
Then, right in the middle of the Atlantic, it
was believed that Antillia was situated. Tra-'
dition said that when Spain and Portugal were


917






HOW COLUMBUS RECKONED.


overrun by the Moors, seven bishops with a
large number of their people took ship and
committed themselves to the unknown sea.
Finally they reached an island upon which
they built seven cities. From this circum-
stance, the island was also called the Isle of
Seven Cities.
When Columbus came to Portugal, a tale
was in circulation of several sailors who had
gone to Prince Henry with the statement that
they had visited this island. They reported
that the inhabitants spoke the language of
Spain, and had eagerly asked if the Moors still
had possession of their native land.
The very sands of the coast of this island
were, the sailors said, one third gold.
St. Brandan, Antillia, and many other isl-
ands about which tales were told, had no real
existence, as was afterward found out..
Columbus did not pay very much attention
to the myths that had come down from ancient
times, nor to those that were circulated in his
day. They were of value to him only because
they showed that from a very early period in
the world's history the opinion had been held
that the Atlantic was not simply a waste of
waters with no western shore.
But his belief in the existence of western
lands was greatly strengthened by evidence
the waves themselves gave in bringing drift-
wood and other strange objects to the shores
of Europe. This evidence he eagerly col-
lected from sailors who returned from long
voyages, and from the inhabitants of the At-
lantic islands.
His brother-in-law, Pedro Correa, had him-
self seen something which bore significant tes-
timony. He had picked up upon the coast of
the Island of Madeira a fragment of wood
that showed signs of having come from a
strange country. It was carved in a most
singular manner; and it was evident, too, that
no instrument of iron had been used to fash-
ion it.
A pilot, Martin Vincent, courageously sailed
further westward than others had done. Be-
fore his return, he had seen floating upon the
waves a similar piece of wood, which was
driven to him by a strong western wind.
The inhabitants of the Azores stated that


pine-trees, unlike any they had seen, had been
cast upon their shores when the wind blew
from the west. From the same direction
great reeds also, like those which were known
to grow in the East Indies, had come to their
islands.
But the most remarkable incident of all was
the fact that the bodies of two men had been
brought by the waves to the island of Flores.
The men had strange features, and were in
appearance altogether unlike any men known
in Europe.
Such indications as these had much influ-
ence upon the thoughtful mind of Columbus.
He became convinced that west of Europe
there was an undiscovered country, which he
thought would prove to be the eastern part of
Asia. But how far was it? Was the Atlantic
Ocean so vast that ships could not sail across
it to the land on the other side ?
In settling this question Columbus depended
to a great extent upon the testimony of two
famous travelers, who had gone through parts
of Asia. These were Marco Polo, a Venetian,
who lived during parts of the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries, and Sir John Mandeville,
an Englishman, who lived in the fourteenth
century.
Marco Polo traveled through the principal
countries of eastern Asia, and visited their
chief cities. He wrote the most extravagant
descriptions of the countries he had seen. He
represented them as abounding in gold, silver,
precious stones, and costly merchandise. As
to the extent of the country, this was, accord-
ing to Marco Polo, enormous. His descrip-
tions produced upon Columbus the impression
that the eastern part of Asia stretched far be-
yond its real position out into the Atlantic
toward the western coast of Europe. The
opinion Columbus formed from reading Marco
Polo as to the great extent of Asia was con-
firmed by the writings of Mandeville.
But, in addition to the main continent, Marco
Polo described a great island which he called
Zipangu. This, he said, had a magnificence
far exceeding that of any other country he
visited. The palace of the king was covered
with plates of pure gold; and the halls and
rooms were lined with the same precious metal,


918








while the island itself was full of riches of all suited, and who sent him a map based partly
kinds, upon evidence derived from Marco Polo. This
By the island Zipangu, it is now supposed he map represented the coast of Asia as opposite


I1/////173 /[ l iI


1 ~1 ~


I vI I


Y\TY7V~


T3 I I I 1 \ \





PORTION OF TOSCANEIJ-'S MAP. COPIED BY PERMISSION OF MESSRS. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., FROM JUSTIN WINSOR'S
"NARRATIVE AND CRITICAL HISTORY OF AMERICA."


meant Japan. He represented it, however, as
lying out in the ocean fifteen hundred miles off
the eastern coast of Asia.
Now, when we remember Columbus had
adopted calculations of the earth's surface
which made it much smaller than it really is,
and trusted to evidence which greatly magni-
fied the size of Asia, we see how he naturally
reached the conclusion that it would not be a
very difficult thing to sail across from Europe
to Asia. He was confirmed in this view by
Toscanelli, a learned Italian, whom he con-


Europe, with the great island Zipangu between
the two countries.
Columbus was so certain of the correctness
of the theory he had formed from all the evi-
dence he had collected that when he started
on his voyage he confidently expected to find
Zipangu first, and then to go on to the coast of
Asia. He did not find Zipangu; but he found
an island belonging to a new world which lay
between Europe and Asia. Through him it
became known to civilized man, though it was
not destined to bear his name.


I I


I I


x892.]


HOW COLUMBUS RECKONED.


919


(1/// / / / VI-T HI I












STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY.

By CHARLES F. LUMMIS.


VII. THE STONE AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM.

I AM not so sure about the present gen-
eration,-for these years on the frontier have
given me little chance to know the new boys as
well as an oldish boy would like to,-but with
most young Americans of my day the auto-
graph-album was a cherished institution. It
was a very pretty habit, too, and a wise one,
thus to press a flower from each young friend-
ship. Not that the autographs were always
wise-how well I remember the boys who
"tried to be funny," and the girls who were
dolefully sentimental, and the budding geniuses
who tottered under thoughts palpably too
heavy for their unformed handwriting, in the
thumbed red morocco books of twenty years
ago But the older those grimy albums grow,
the more fully I feel they were worth while.
I shall never forget the supreme moments
when the good gray Longfellow, and cheerful,
rheumatic Mrs. Partington" christened my
last autograph-album with their names, which
were for a long time my chiefest treasures--
until that dearest hero of boyhood, Captain
Mayne Reid, eclipsed them all. And last sum-
mer the boyish triumph came back clear and
strong as ever, when I stood under one of the
noblest cliffs in America and read in its vast
stone pages the autographs of some of the
great first heroes of the New World.
"The Stone Autograph-Album" lies in a re-
mote and almost unknown corner of western
New Mexico. It is fifty miles southwest of the
Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, at Grant's Sta-
tion, and can be reached only by long drives
through lonely but picturesque cautions and great
pine forests. It is but four miles from the half-
dozen Mexican houses of Las Tinajas, where
the traveler can find food and shelter. The
journey from the railroad is not dangerous,
and need not be uncomfortable; but one


should be careful to secure good horses and a
guide, for the roads are not like those of the
East.
Climbing and descending the long slopes of
the Zufii range, we emerge at last from the forest
to a great plateau, its southeastern rim crowded
with extinct volcanoes. To the southwest the
plateau dips into a valley, guarded on the
north by pines, and on the south by a long line
of the mesas of many-colored sandstone which
are characteristic beauties of the southwest.
Through this valley ran an ancient and historic
road-now hard to trace, for so many genera-
tions has it been abandoned from Zunii to
the Rio Grande. Many of you have already
heard something of Zufii, that strange gray
pyramid of the adobe homes of fifteen hundred
Pueblo Indians. It is what is left of the
famous "Seven Cities of Cibola," whose fabled
gold inspired the discovery of New Mexico
in 1539, and afterward the most marvelous
marches of exploration ever made on this con-
tinent. Coronado, that greatest explorer, and
the first Caucasian soldier who ever entered
New Mexico, marched from the Gulf of Cali-
fornia almost to where Kansas City now is, in
1540, besides making many other expeditions.
As we move west down the valley, the mesas
grow taller and more beautiful; and presently
we become aware of a noble rock which seems
to be chief of all its giant brethren. Between
two juniper-dotted cautions a long, wedge-
shaped mesa tapers to the valley, and termi-
nates at its edge in a cliff which reminds one
of a titanic castle. Its front is a great tower,
and its sides are sheer walls two hundred
and fifteen feet high, and thousands of feet
long, with white battlements and shadowy bas-
tions. Nothing without wings could mount
there; but a few hundred yards south of the
tower the mesa can be scaled-by an an-
cient trail of separate foot-holes worn deep in






STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY.


the rock. At the top we find that the wedge
is hollow-a great V, in fact, for a cation
from behind splits the mesa almost to its apex.
Upon the arms of this V are the ruins of two
pueblos,.facing each other across the deep gulf.
These stone cities were over two hundred
feet square and four or five stories tall -ter-
raced, human beehives, with several hundred
inhabitants each.


necessities of the wilderness made it a camping-
place for all who passed, since the weak spring
under the shadow of that great rock was the
first water in a long day's march. There was
also plenty of wood near, and a fair shelter
under the overhanging precipices. So it was
in those grim centuries behind this that every
traveler who came to the Morro halted there,
and they included nearly every notable figure


.. .
i. ~-. --' '* I ". --- -- -.
EL MORRO. THE L"STONE AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM."


This remarkable rock was known to the Span-
ish pioneers much more than two centuries be-
fore any of our Saxon forefathers penetrated
the deserts of the southwest; and even in this
land of monumental cliffs it is so striking that
they gave it a name for its very own. They
called it El Morro (The Castle), and for over
three hundred years it has borne that appro-
priate title, though the few hundred "Ameri-
cans who have seen it know it better as In-
scription Rock. Historically, it is the most pre-
cious cliff possessed by any nation, and, I am
ashamed to say, the most utterly neglected.
Lying on the ancient road from Zufii to the
river -and about thirty miles from the former-
it became a most important landmark. The


among the first heroes who trod what is now
our soil. The sandstone of the cliff was fine and
very smooth, and when the supper of jerked
meat and pop-corn meal porridge had been
eaten, and the mailed sentries put out to with-
stand the prowling Apaches, the heroes wrote
their autographs upon the perpendicular page
of stone, using for pens the swords which had
won the New World!
These old Spaniards were as unbraggart a set
of heroes as ever lived. It was not for notoriety
that they wrote in that wonderful autograph-
album,-not in vanity, nor idly. They were
'piercing an unknown and dangerous wilder-
ness, in which no civilized being dwelt. They
were few-never was their army oyer two hun-






STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY.


dred men, and sometimes it was a tenth of
that-amid thousands of warlike savages. The
chances were that they would never get back to
the world-even to the half-savage world of
Mexico, which they had just conquered and
were Christianizing. What they wrote was
rather like leaving a headstone for unknown
graves; a word to say, if any should ever fol-
low, Here were the men who did not come
back."
Coronado, the first explorer, did not pass
Inscription Rock. But among those who came
after him, the road by the Morro soon became
the accepted thoroughfare from Old to New
Mexico; and in its mouse-colored cliffs we can
read to-day many of the names that were great
in the early history of America. Such queer,
long names some of them are, and in such a
strange, ancient handwriting!
On the southeast wall of the Morro are some
very important ones. The pioneers in the
winter generally camped under this cliff to get
the sun's warmth, while in summer they sought
the shade of the north side. 'All the old in-
scriptions are in Spanish-and many in quaint
old Spanish, of the days when spelling was elas-
tic, and with such remarkable abbreviations as
our own forefathers used. All around these
brave old names which are so precious to the
historian-and to all who admire heroism--
are Saxon names of the last few decades.
Alas! some of these late-comers have been
vandals, and have even erased the names of
ancient heroes to make a smooth place for
their own. That seems to me a more wicked
and wanton thing than the chipping of histo-
ric statues for relics.
Near the tall, lone sentinel pine which stands
by the south wall of the Morro is a modest in-
scription of great interest and value. It is pro-
tected from the weather by a little brow of
rock, and its straggling letters are legible still,
though they have been there for two hundred
and eighty-six years. It is the autograph of
that brave soldier and wise first governor in the
United States, Juan de Ofiate. He was the
real founder of New Mexico, since he estab-
lished its government and built its first two
towns. In 1598 he founded San Gabriel de


los Espafioles, which is the next oldest town in
our country. St. Augustine, Florida, is the
oldest, having been founded in 1565, also by a
Spaniard. Next comes San Gabriel, and third
Santa F6, which Ofiate founded in 1605. But
before there was a Santa F6, he had made a
march even more wonderful than the one
which brought him to New Mexico. In 1604
he trudged, at the head of thirty men, across
the fearful trackless desert from San Gabriel to
the Gulf of California, and back again! And
on the return from that marvelous "journey to
discover the South Sea" (the Pacific), he camped
at the Morro and wrote in its eternal page.
Here it is, just as he wrote it two years before
our Saxon forefathers had built a hut in Amer-
ica, even on the sea-coast-while he was fifteen
hundred miles from the ocean. The inscrip-





,, a i 4; enru ? I
,_ ,'* '. .. -- .


FIG. I.
tions are nearly all of such antique lettering,
and so full of abbreviations, that I shall give
you the Spanish text in type with an interlined
translation, so that you may pick out the
queerly written words and get an idea of six-
teenth and seventeenth century "shorthand."
Ofiate's legend reads (see fig. i):
Paso for aqui el adelantado don Jua. de
Passed by here the officer Don Juan de
Onate (?)al descubrimento de la mar del sur
Ofiate to the discovery of the sea of the South
d 16 de Abril do 16o6.
on the 16th of April, year 16o6.
Just below Ofiate's autograph is one which
some careless explorers have made eighty years
earlier than his. The second figure in the date
does look like a 5; but no white man had ever
seen any part of New Mexico in 1526; and
the figure is really an old-style 7, making the
date 1726.
Not far away is the pretty autograph of


* We have no exact word for adelantado. He was the officer in command of a new country.


922






STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY.


Diego de Vargas -that dashing but generous
general who reconquered New Mexico after the
fearful Pueblo Indian rebellion of 1680. In
that rebellion twenty-one gentle missionaries
and four hundred other Spaniards were massa-
cred by the Indians in one day, and the survi-
vors were driven back into Old Mexico.- This
inscription was written when Vargas made his
first dash back into New Mexico.
A little north of Vargas's valuable inscription
is that (fig. 2) of the expedition sent by Gov-
ernor Francisco Martinez de Baeza to arrange
the troubles in Zufii, on the urgent request of
the chief missionary Fray Cristobal de Quir6s:
Pasamos por aqui el sargento mayor, y el capi-
We pass by here, the lieutenant-colonel, and the Cap-
tan Jua. de Arechuleta, y el iaiudante Diego
tain Juan de Arechuleta, and the lieutenant Diego
Martin Barba, y el Alferes Agustyn de Ynojos,
Martin Barba, and the Ensign Augustin de Ynojos,
ago de 1636.
in the year 1636.





*, ,' -,L ., o '. '
I. -, 2 ...' '


rr,.t,,tlOr c.' 5 .; "


FIG. 2.

Below are ancient Indian pictographs.
The sargento mayor (literally, "chief ser-
geant ") who is not named was probably brave
Francisco Gomez. The inscription is in the
handwriting of Diego Martin Barba, who was
the official secretary of Governor Baeza. In a
little cavity near by is the inscription of "Juan
Garsya, 1636." He was a member of the
same expedition.
Two quaint lines recall a pathetic story. It
is that of a common soldier, who did not write
his year. But history supplies that:
Soy de mano de Felipe de Arellano d 16 de
I am from the hand of Felipe de Arellano, on the 16th
Setiembre, soldado.
of September, soldier.


He was one of the Spanish "garrison" of
three men, left to guard far-off Zuii, and slain
by the Indians in the year 1700. Not far
away is the autograph of the leader of the
"force of six men who went in 1701 from
Santa F6 to Zufii (a desert march of three hun-
dred miles) to avenge that murder, the Cap-
tain Juan de Urribarri.
An autograph of a member of the De Vargas
expedition is that of Diego Lucero de Godoy
(fig. 3). He was then a sargento mayor, a
very good and brave officer, who was with
Governor Otermin in the bloody siege of Santa
F6 by the Indians, and in that retreat when
the Spaniards fought a passage to El Paso.




I' -' "-



FIG. 3.

A peculiar flourish is appended to the entry
(fig. 4):
A 5 del mes de Junyo deste ado de 1709
On the 5th of the month of June of this year of 1709
paso par aquy para Zuni Ramon Paez Jurt'do.
passed by here, bound for Zufii, Ramon Paez Hurtado.


7-


FIG. 4.
On the north side of the Morro are the long-
est and most elaborate inscriptions, the rock


923


-F--






STRANGE CORNERS OF OUR COUNTRY.


there being more favorable. The earliest of American names only two or three are of any
them are the two long legends of the then gov- note at all. The earliest date from 1849, and


. 0 u d" B C'L., 1 ,I B



t- ,i2. -



Z Ii, 7, P,
IS' C: ;7 u1IF~i i; ~ s~


3
lv

0

II?.

ri Jt'nflr

ti-i

~ 1' Iur~


FIG. 5.


ernor of New Mexico, Don Francisco Manuel
de Silva Nieto. They were not written by him,
but by some admiring officer in his little force.
A part has been effaced by the modern vandal,
but enough remains to mark that very notable
journey. The first says (fig. 5) :
Aqui. [pasd el Gober] nador Don Fran-
Here passed the Governor Don Fran-
cisco Manuel de Silva Nieto que lo ynpucible tiene
cisco Manuel de Silva Nieto that the impossible has
ya sujeto su Braco yndubitable y su Balor, con los
already (been) effected (by) his arm indomitable and his
Carros del Rei Nuestro Sefaor; cosa que solo el
valor, with the wagons of the King, Our Master; a thing
Puso en este Efecto, de Abgosto 9, SeiscientoS
which only he put in this shape in August 9, (one thou-
Beinie y Neuve, que d Cugi Pase y la Fe'
sand) six hundred, twenty and nine, that to Zufii I passed
lleve.
and the Faith carried.

What is meant by Governor Nieto's carry-
ing the faith" (that is, Christianity), is that on
this expedition he took along the heroic priests
who established the mission of Zufii.
There are a great many other old Spanish
autographs on the sheer walls of the Morro;
but not all have been deciphered. Of the


are those of Lieutenant Simpson and his scien-
tific companion Kern-doubtless the first of us
to visit the spot. The other Saxon names are
recent and unimportant.
I am sure that if any reader of ST. NICHO-
LAS had any one of those old autographs in his
album, he would guard it jealously; and it is
a shame, that we are neglecting that noble,
stone book of the Morro. A few more years



., .



-. _J ,
A SHORT INSCRIPTION.

and a few more vandals, and nothing will be
left of what now makes the rock so precious.
The Government should protect it, as it would
be protected in any other civilized land; and
when some of you get into Congress, I hope
you will look to this and -other such duties.
Otherwise the next generation will lose a unique
and priceless treasure.


924























r!J


"HURRAH! Now I can go to
after all!" cried Tommy, burstin
kitchen where his mother was m;
"Michael says his bullet does n't
so much now, and he thinks it is
rain, after all."
Tommy's feelings had undergon
trial that morning. While the fanr
breakfast, Michael, the hired man
mother's farm, had come in upon
the announcement that a bullet he
in his shoulder since the war had b
him all night. As a weather-ind
bullet was almost as reliable as a
On various occasions, when T
planned to go fishing or swimming
bullet had perversely predicted rair
prediction usually proved correct
came, though not always upon
sometimes it was over in the adjoin
When that happened, Tommy regar
light of a rather mean practical jol
pense, holding Michael responsible
See here, Mr. Michael Ower
claimed indignantly on one suc]
"what's the good of having a
like to know, when it does n't tell
it's going to rain here or somewhere
Can't you have the old thing cut ou
When on this occasion Michael,
ing disregard of its being picnic-d
that his bullet kept whispering to
out for your clover!" Tommy b


;i
'"
-a


owr


MICHAEL'S BULLET


SpOILED TOMMY' PICNIC.

I By FRANK W. SAGE.

oughly indignant, for he knew that meant no
picnic for him. It meant, instead, at least an
hour or two's work in the haymow. Any boy
who has worked at stowing away clover in a
hay-loft, with the sun blazing on the low roof
over his head, dust from the tumbling hay
choking him, and particles of twigs and leaves
the picnic, working down under his neck-band, will under-
g into the stand exactly how Tommy felt. There was no
making jelly. help for it, however, for the matter admitted of
hurt nearly no possible postponement, and there was no
I't going to one to take his place. As Tommy plunged his
pitchfork into the great bundles of clover thrust
.e a severe up to him from the wagon below, what visions
lily were at of cool retreats in thick-set woods rose before
ager of his him: the moss-covered log jutting from the
them with bank over the dear old swimming-hole; the
had carried hawthorn-tree shading the dancing water; the
een paining deep woods just beyond, where ferns clustered
licator that and wild flowers peeped out from the black mold
barometer, between the buttresses of decaying stumps !
ommy had The next instant his heart jumped as he
, that same heard Michael say, "It is n't coming this way,
i. And the after all; I think we '11 just leave the clover
; the rain until to-morrow, and look after them fences
their farm; down by the medder-lot!" And Tommy, glanc-
ling county. ing out of the loft-door, saw the storm miles
ded it in the away, driving off in another direction, while
ke at his ex- the sun blazed out more fiercely than ever.
accordingly. Then he jumped down and ran to the house.
is," he ex- And now I may go, may n't I, Mother ? "
h occasion, he said anxiously, noticing an appearance of
bullet, I 'd hesitation in his mother's manner.
you whether "Why,-Tommy dear, see here," his mother
e away off? began, handing him a telegram. Tommy took
it? it wondering, for a telegram was a thing rarely
with unfeel- seen at the old farm.
ay, declared "That came not ten minutes ago. Ezra
him Look Biddle left it as he was driving by," his mother
became thor- explained.





HOW MICHAEL'S BULLET SPOILED TOMMY'S PICNIC.


Tommy scanned it hurriedly. Oh, dear
me! Aunt Amanda coming, I-"
"Now, I was just wondering how in the
world I could leave all these currants and go
to the station after her, and there did n't seem
to be any other way," said his mother. "I 'm
afraid you '11 have to hitch up and go, and the
worst of it is she won't arrive at the station un-
til half-past eleven. That 's too bad."


began to feel a little ashamed of himself pres-
ently, and without a word went to the barn
and got out the horse and buggy.
"I '11 have to dress up though; I can't go
looking this way," he said, on returning to the
kitchen. So he washed and dressed himself,
and finally drove away. He had a long wait
at the railway station, but at last the train
glided up to the platform. Among the half-


N"
r ,I


"' WHY, TOMMY MARSH, YOU DEAR CHILD, HOW YOU HAVE GROWN SHE EXCLAIMED."


Oh, pshaw What did Aunt 'Manda want
to come to-day for ? I just wish she 'd stay at
home!" cried Tommy, peevishly.
"Tommy, I am astonished! shame on you,
to talk so about your kind Aunt Amanda!
What am I to think of you!"
Well, I don't care! What does she want
to come on the very day of our picnic for ?"
said Tommy in vexation. His mother, whose
displeasure was tempered with sympathy for
her boy in his trials, remained silent. Tommy


dozen passengers who got off was the lady
whom he supposed to be his aunt; he was not
sure, for he had not seen her since he was four
years old. Her eyes had a queer little squint,
and her under jaw projected beyond the upper
in a manner that gave Tommy a disagree-
able impression of her from the very first. He
had half a mind to turn his back and pretend
he was somebody else, he was so disappointed
in her appearance.
But the instant she caught sight of him she


926






HOW MICHAEL'S BULLET SPOILED TOMMY'S PICNIC.


exclaimed: "Why, Tommy Marsh, you dear
child, how you have grown! I declare, I
hardly knew you!" and she clasped him
warmly in her arms and kissed him almost be-
fore he knew what was coming. I declare, I
was n't expecting to find you here. I 'm so
glad to see you." Her grasp of his hand was
so warm and magnetic that Tommy instantly
forgave her the kiss. "And this is your little
cousin, Lydia. You were not expecting her,
I am sure," his aunt said, reaching out her
hand toward a little girl whom Tommy had
not before noticed. The child was about ten
years old. She smiled, abashed, and blushed
deeply, while Tommy, even more abashed,
drew back after having merely touched her
fingers.
The buggy-seat was rather narrow for three,
and Tommy was secretly glad that Lydia's
white skirts almost concealed a darn on the
knee of his best trousers.
This little girl from Boston seemed so vastly
superior to such commonplace matters as in-
terested Tommy, that the boy was embarrassed
in the attempt to find a subject for conversa-
tion with her.
"How does it happen that you 're not at-
tending the picnic, Tommy?" his aunt inquired
after a while. "Your mother wrote me that
your Sunday-school was to have a picnic, and
this is the day, is n't it ? she continued, notic-
ing a peculiar look on Tommy's face. Why,
dear me!" She seized the reins from Tommy's
hands, and checked the horse so suddenly that
Lydia was thrown forward off the seat. Aunt
Amanda scrutinized Tommy's face. "You've
been kept at home because there was no one
else to come after me! Dear, dear "
Where are they having their picnic ? she
demanded with a look of pretended severity.
" Tell me instantly Tommy only smiled.
"I must know where this picnic is being
held before we go a step further," Aunt Aman-
da said in a resolute tone, and without the
slightest suggestion of a smile in return.
Why, we could n't very well go until we've
had our dinner anyhow, if that 's what you
want to know for," said Tommy, beginning to
understand her. Aunt Amanda straightened
herself with a grim sigh of determination.


" Get up she said, giving the reins a shake
She began to turn the buggy around.
Oh, that is n't the way. We must go
straight ahead until we come to the Stubbs
Mill bridge, and then follow the creek road,"
cried Tommy.
Well, well, well! I thought we should learn
something about this picnic, after a while," said
Aunt Amanda, turning back the horse. Now
then, go 'long "
But what are we going to do about dinner,
and what will mother think if we don't come
home ? said Tommy, highly delighted.
She '11 think the train is behind time, prob-
ably. Never mind about that. We '11 find
some way to send her word, I '11 warrant," his
aunt replied. "As for dinner, we '11 get that
on the grounds," she added, decisively. As
they drove along the smooth creek road, shaded
by great elm and willow trees, Tommy felt
thoroughly happy. He even ventured to look
at Lydia once or twice, and soon began to tell
her something of the history of the neighbor-
hood.
When they reached the picnic-grove, they
found the assembled children and friends
gathering in groups in readiness for dinner.
Tommy never knew exactly how his aunt man-
aged it, but by the time he had disposed of
the horse she had it all arranged that they were
to lunch with the Pullens, acquaintances of his.
Although members of this particular family
had at various times eaten at his mother's table
Tommy felt a trifle uncomfortable on sitting
down to partake of their luncheon, when it was
well understood that on picnic occasions every
one was to bring his own luncheon. It might
not have been so awkward if Aunt Amanda
had not been a stranger to everybody, and if
she had not seemed to derive peculiar satisfac-
tion from freely referring to their dependent
condition. She managed, however, to get
everybody to laughing before long, so that
parties in groups near by looked in their direc-
tion, as if they envied them the fun they were
having. Mrs. Pullen had always seemed to
Tommy a particularly prim and rather stiff per-
son, but she now beamed with gratification,
and with all the ardor of a life-long friend in-
troduced to Aunt Amanda and Lydia her


927






HOW MICHAEL'S BULLET SPOILED TOMMY'S PICNIC.


friends and acquaintances, who flocked around
their circle before the meal had ended. Some
one was found to carry a message to Tommy's
mother, after they had all eaten heartily, and
then Aunt Amanda seated herself with the
grown-up folks, leaving Lydia and Tommy to
enjoy the children's games.
They had been at their sports an hour or
two when they were startled by a sudden peal
of thunder. Tommy glanced among the trees
and saw his aunt buttoning the curtains of the
buggy, to which she had already hitched the
horse. People were hurrying to and fro gath-
ering baskets and placing them in wagons and
buggies. A few heavy drops splashed among
the leaves; the wind whirled and twisted the
tops of the trees, plucking away leaves and
twigs, and occasionally a larger branch. Just
as Lydia and Tommy crept into the shelter
of the buggy, the storm broke in all its fury.
The air was filled with driving spray and mist,
and it seemed only a moment or two until the
brook gliding along the edge of the picnic-
grounds had become a turbid torrent rushing
over its banks.
Whew!" cried Tommy, with a sudden
pang of recollection, "I wonder what about
our clover now "
It certainly did look very bad for the clover,
and Tommy had not even the meager conso-
lation of hoping that the storm was not sweep-
ing over their farm. "This shows how much
good Michael's bullet is!" said Tommy; and
then remembering that neither his aunt nor
Lydia knew to what he referred, he went on
to explain: "You see our hired man 's got
a bullet in his shoulder that aches every once
in a while, and whenever it does he says it 's
going to rain. The other day it ached like
sixty, and mother would n't let me go swim-
ming, and it did n't rain after all, until every-
body was abed and asleep. What kind of a
bullet do you call that? And this morning
early it ached again, and Michael said we must
get our clover in, right away, and after we 'd
just about got a third through, he changed his
mind, and said we need n't mind finishing it,
'cause he wanted to 'tend to some other work,
and it was n't going to rain after all. And
here it is raining hard, and our clover all


ruined Now, would n't you get another hired
man, or else make Michael have that bullet
cut out?"
Aunt Amanda laughed. "Why, from what
you tell me, Tommy, I should certainly think
Michael has n't much faith in what his bullet
indicates."
"I don't believe he has. He just pretends
he has, on purpose to keep me from having
any fun," said Tommy resentfully. While they
were talking the storm had gradually subsided,
and as there was of course an end of picnick-
ing, they concluded to start home. Nobody
appeared to be driving their way, and they
drove along the creek road quite alone. When
they reached the main road and turned toward
the Stubbs Mill bridge, Tommy gave a sudden
exclamation. The bridge was gone! It had
been a light structure, and once before had
been carried away by a freshet. Here was a
pretty state of affairs !
"You can see that the water is falling fast,"
said Tommy, pointing to the opposite bank.
"There 's a ford just down there, and if we
wait a while I think the creek will be low
enough, so that we can cross."
"Very well; I think we will just wait," said
his aunt, after they had fully discussed the
matter. Your mother will probably not be
alarmed for our safety. It is only three o'clock,
and she won't be expecting us for an hour or
two."
They had a long wait of it, and Tommy sev-
eral times declared the creek fordable, before
his aunt finally consented to make the venture.
Slowly and cautiously they drove into the
stream, reaching the middle in safety, although
the water swirled and rippled above the hubs
rather alarmingly, Lydia thought. Just then
the horse, catching sight of a log floating to-
ward them, shied suddenly. Down sank the
fore wheels into a hole, until the water rippled
over the floor of the buggy. The horse
plunged and made one or two ineffectual ef-
forts to kick. Lydia screamed. Aunt Amanda
grasped the reins and turned the horse's head
up-stream.
"Sit still, children, there is no danger," she
said in a firm voice. The horse looked wildly
over his shoulder at them, but made no further


928






HOW MICHAEL'S BULLET SPOILED TOMMY'S PICNIC.


effort to move. He seemed to realize, as they
did, that they were in a trap.
"Now, Tommy, there is only one thing to be .
done," said Aunt Amanda, after she had suc-
ceeded in allaying Lydia's alarm. "We must
contrive to unhitch the horse, and then you
must mount him and ride for help."


About an hour later Tommy reappeared on
the bank in company with Michael leading two
horses. Aunt Amanda sat in the buggy, pla-
cidly knitting, while Lydia was working into a
wreath some leaves she had plucked from a
branch they had passed. Michael set about
at once to relieve them in their plight. Wad-


HOLD ON TIGHT CRIED AUNT AMANDA.
" 'HOLD ON TIGHT CRIED AUNT AMIANDA."I


"What! and leave you and Lydia here in the
middle of the creek ? "
"Certainly. We won't run away."
Tommy laughed, and then, rolling back his
sleeves, reached down into the water to un-
fasten the traces and holdbacks. It was awk-
ward work, but he at last accomplished it, and
then creeping along the horse's back, greatly to
Lydia's alarm, he loosened the girth which held
up the shafts. "Hold on tight!" cried Aunt
Amanda, as the horse with Tommy astride his
back plunged up the bank. "Now be sure to
impress upon your mother that we are perfectly
safe and cozy," she called after him as. Tommy
rode away.
VoL. XIX.-59.


ing out to the buggy, he fastened one end of a
rope to the front axle while Tommy was hook-
ing the other end to the traces of the horses.
Then placing himself between the shafts he
called out: "All right, go ahead!" to Tommy.
In another moment the buggy rolled out upon
the pebbly road.
"Now then, Mr. Michael Owens, you see the
fix that your old bullet has got our company
from Boston into," said Tommy, in a severe
tone, as he resumed his seat in the buggy.
"If you don't have it cut out you 'd better
have more bullets shot into you, so that they
will hurt enough to make you pay better atten-
tion when they say it 's going to rain."


929

















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

By BRANDER MATTHEWS.


CHAPTER XXII.
COUNSEL.
NCLE DICK laid
his hand gently on
Tom Paulding's
shoulder.
"Brace up, my
boy," said he, with
sympathy in his
voice. "You have
met with a mis-
fortune; and just
now it seems to you as if the world was all
hung with black, and life not worth living.
Look up, and you will see that the sun is still
shining outside.. Live to be as old as I am,
and you will learn to expect little and to be
satisfied with less. In the mean while, keep
a stout heart."
"I have thought about this so long, Uncle
Dick," replied the boy; I have n't thought of
anything else for months now; and the money
meant so much to us all-it 's hard to have to
give it up all of a sudden, just when we've laid
hands on it at last."
"I know," his uncle responded. "The blow
is hard to bear at best, and you got it at the
very moment when it was the hardest to stand.
I see that, and I am heartily sorry for you.
But you "must not give up the struggle because
you have lost the first skirmish."
You are right, I know," Tom returned
sadly. But I had so many good uses for those
two thousand guineas. They would have paid
off the mortgage and kept mother from worry-
ing any more about that. Then I could have


had an education, as my father had and my
grandfather,-they both were graduated from
Columbia College, you know,-and I wanted
to work at the School of Mines. Now I shall
have to go into a store; of course, I shall try
to do my best there; but I don't believe
that's what I can do best. I like outdoors,
and the open air, and I used to see myself
working hard in the mountains, planning a
mine and looking after the work. Well," and
he sighed again, "that 's all over now!" and as
he said this there was a lump in his throat.
Perhaps not," his uncle remarked quietly.
"But you said this money is all counterfeit ? "
Tom returned.
"I think so," Uncle Dick declared.
"Well, then ?" asked Tom.
"This is not all the money there is in the.
world," Mr. Rapallo replied cheerfully, "nor
have you-no other chances but the one which
has gone back on you this morning. Things
are never so bad as we think they are at first."
"I think I know just how bad this thing is-
for me," said the boy, gloomily.
"You valued the finding of this buried trea-
sure," his uncle responded, "because of the
uses you could put it to-the relief of your
mother, your own education, certain advantages
for your sister. Well, these are all things which
may be obtained in other ways-perhaps not
all at once, but in time."
"I don't see how," said Tom, doubtfully.
"Neither do I now," Mr. Rapallo replied;
"if I did, I should show you at once. But
you did not mean to keep your two thousand
guineas as a miser's hoard to gloat over-"
Of course I did n't," cried Tom, forcibly.
30






TOM PAULDING.


"As you intended to spend it to produce
certain results," his uncle went on, the loss of
this money is the loss only of one of the means
by which these results could be secured.
There are other ways of accomplishing them.
You and I must look them up. I am sure that
we shall find something-even if it is not all
we seek. You know that we make a mistake
if we expect the millennium overnight; in my
experience it rarely comes before the day after
to-morrow."
Tom smiled faintly at this speech of his un-
cle's; and Mr. Rapallo, who had been waiting
for this smile, held out his hand and gave the
boy a hearty clasp.
"Now, do you remember, Tom," he asked,
cheerily, as though determined not to be down-
cast, "that you once told me there were two
things that puzzled you when you had first gone
through the box of papers ? "
"Yes," answered his nephew. "First, I
wanted to know where the money was; and
second, I wondered why my grandfather had
given over the search so suddenly, as it
seemed."
"We have solved both problems, I think,-by
this morning's work," Mr. Rapallo remarked.
" You found the money as you had hoped-that
was one thing; and then you found that it was
counterfeit, and perhaps that was the reason of
the other."
Do you think my grandfather knew that
the two thousand guineas were not really
gold? asked Tom.
"Yes," answered his uncle.
"And that that was the reason why he gave
over the search all at once ? Tom pursued.
"Yes," said Uncle Dick for the second time.
"But' how could he know that?" cried the
boy. We did n't find it out till we had found
the money, and we know he did n't find the
money."
"Then he must have made the discovery
in some other way," declared Uncle Dick.
"From whom did your great-grandfather get
the two thousand guineas ? "
"From a man named Simon Horwitz," an-
swered Tom. Then suddenly he cried, Oh! "
"Well? said his uncle.
"Well, I think you must be right," the boy


931


explained. "My grandfather must have been
told of the fraud, and that the buried treasure
was n't worth bothering about, And the way
he knew this was, somehow, from the only man
who knew about the cheat."
"You mean Simon Horwitz?" asked Mr.
Rapallo.
"I '11 show you in a minute," said Tom, as
he pulled out the box of old papers and began
to turn them over hastily in search of a partic-
ular paper. At last he found what he was
seeking, and placed a folded piece of foolscap
in his uncle's hands.
"There! he said.
"This is indorsed Notes of Horwitz's Confes-
sion,' but there is nothing inside," Mr. Rapallo
said, as he turned the paper over. However,
I think I see how it was. When your grand-
father was collecting all possible information
about the stolen guineas, he finally got from
the man who had given his father the money a
confession that it had been paid in counterfeit
coin-that would account for the suspicious
delay in its payment, too. And thereupon, of
course, your grandfather ceased all effort to dis-
cover the whereabouts of the stolen money-
which really was not money at all. He in-
dorsed the cover of these Notes of Horwitz's
Confession' and put it with the other papers,
or thought he did. At all events, the cover
of this confession is preserved with the other
papers. And we find it too late, when we have
had all our labor in vain."
"That would account for everything that
used to puzzle me," Tom responded.
Now, if I were you," said Mr. Rapallo, I
would go for your friends Cissy Smith and
Harry Zachary, and get them up here in this
room; and I would tell them all about the
counterfeit coin; and I would release them at
once from their pledge of secrecy."
"Oh, Uncle Dick," cried Tom, "would you
let them tell everybody ?"
"Why not ?" asked his uncle. "You cannot
expect them to keep our morning's work a
secret forever."
I suppose not," said Tom, doubtfully.
"Well, then," Mr. Rapallo continued, "the
sooner they get it over the better. Let them
tell the whole story at once. And the final






TOM PAULDING.


surprise about the counterfeit money will make
the'tale only the more interesting."
"That 's so," Tom assented, perceiving at
once the force of this suggestion.
You see, Tom," continued his uncle, peo-
ple generally will not know that you were
going to do anything in particular with the
money, and they will never suspect your great
disappointment. Of course you need not tell
anybody about that."
Of course not," Tom declared, with undue
emphasis.
"Except your mother," Mr. Rapallo added.
"Must she know? asked Tom.
"Certainly," was the firm answer. Go and
tell her and Polly all about it at once. You
may be sure that your mother will be glad to
learn that you wanted the
money to help her in pay-
ing off the mortgage."
I think she would have -
been pleased if we could
have gone into her room
and shown her the mort-
gage all paid off," said
Tom, sighing again. But
there 's no use thinking of
that now."
"I have an appoint-
ment," Mr. Rapallo de-
clared, looking at his watch,
"or at least I am going to
try to see a friend before he goes out. Will
you come into your mother's room with me
before I go?"
"Yes," Tom answered. "I may as well get
it over as soon as I can."
Mr. Rapallo led the way to Mrs. Paulding's
room, the door of which stood wide open, as
usual. Tom's mother was seated by the window,
and by her side there was a basket of the house-
hold linen, which she was repairing. Pauline
had a low chair by her mother's; and she was
diligently hemming towels when Uncle Dick
and Tom appeared.
"Just look at that hem, Uncle Dick!" cried
Polly, as Mr. Rapallo entered the room. "I
think it 's as good, almost, as if it had been
done on a machine."
Is there any trouble ?" asked Mrs. Paul-


ding, reading the faces of her brother and her
son.
"No," answered Mr. Rapallo. "There is
no trouble of any kind, but Tom has had a sore
disappointment, and I think it will do him
good to tell you all about it."
Mrs. Paulding looked up at Tom, who was
standing near her, and Tom bent over and
kissed her.
"Tom is a little crushed just now, Mary,"
Uncle Dick continued. But he will get over
it, and it won't hurt him. A boy is a little like
a ball: you throw it down and it bounds up
unhurt that is, if it has any spring in it; and
Tom has plenty of that." .
When Mr. Rapallo had left them, Mrs.
Paulding looked up at Tom again with a


"TOM TOLD THEM THE WHOLE STORY."


smile, and said, "Now, my boy, tell me all
your trouble."
And Tom told them the whole story, his
hopes, his expectations, his success, his disap-
pointment. While he was telling it, his mother's
quick sympathy sustained and cheered him.
And when he had told her everything, he felt
comforted, and the world was no longer hung
with black.


932






TOM PAULDING.


CHAPTER XXIII.
CONCLUSION.

FTER telling his
mother and his
sister the circum-
Sstances and the

which had oc-
cupied his mind
ily S for six months and
more, Tom Paul-
a h ding felt a little
better. Already
he was able to bear the poignant disappoint-
ment more bravely, and he tried to keep
down the bitterness he had felt at first. By
resolute determination he put away all repin-
ing, and so, as the day wore on, he began to
pick up heart again.
In the afternoon he took Harry Zachary and
Cissy Smith up into his own room, and he
explained how it was that their labors were in
vain. He showed them the counterfeit coins,
and repeated for them Mr. Rapallo's test with
the touchstone.
SIf we 'd only known," said Cissy, "that the
gold we were after was n't gold at all, we
would n't have been so keen after it, and we
should n't have tried so hard to throw Cork-
screw off the scent."
I don't think I ever read of a buried trea-
sure," remarked Harry, "that was n't real. It's
just as though the wicked magician had got
hold of the secret talisman and had changed
the coins from gold to dross."
"Shucks!" returned Cissy, forcibly; "the
only wicked magician was that Simon Hor-
witz, and he 'd have had to have a talisman
against old age and death, if he wanted to be
alive now."
Do you want us to keep this a secret any
longer ?" asked Harry, a little anxiously.
No," Tom answered.; "Uncle Dick says
that the sooner it is known the sooner it will be
forgotten."
I don't want to forget it," was Cissy's reply.
"I enjoyed all I had to do with it. And if it
had been twice the trouble, I 'd have done it
three times over just for a sight of Corkscrew


Lott twisting himself up into a double-bow
knot when your uncle got the range on him
with the hose!"
Even Tom was moved to laughter when he
recalled the surprise expressed on Lott's face
when he first received the full force of the
stream of water.
At school the next day, when the news had
spread, Tom was overwhelmed with questions
of all sorts. Fortunately the comments of
Corkscrew Lott were not made in Tom's hear-
ing, or there might have been a renewal of
the Battle of the Curls. Corkscrew apparently
remembered that decisive combat; and what
he had to say about Tom Paulding's silly con-
duct was said behind Tom Paulding's back.
No doubt this was wisest, for it is greatly to be
feared that a fight would have been a great
relief to Tom's feelings just then. Perhaps
Corkscrew was shrewd enough to suspect this;
at any rate, he kept out of Tom's way, and
there was no overt act of hostility. Since the
Battle of the Curls, Corkscrew had continued to
grow, and he was now nearly six feet high;
he was by far the tallest boy in the school, and
his long boots served to exaggerate his height;
but Tom was in a frame of mind that would
have made it dangerous for any one to have
stood up before him in a fair fight.
At dinner that night Mr. Rapallo was late.
He was a little quieter than usual, perhaps, and
took pleasure in drawing Polly out and in get-
ting her to talk about her school and her school
friends.
The little girl mentioned that one of her
friends was in bed with a bad attack of new-
mown hay."
Uncle Dick was puzzled. I suppose you
mean hay-fever," he said; "but this is not the
season for it."
It is n't hay-fever at all," she declared;
"it's new-mown hay; that 's what the doctor
called it."
"Oh! and her uncle laughed out, I see
now. You mean pneumonia."
"That 's just what I said," Polly asserted.
"Mary," said Mr. Rapallo, turning to Mrs.
Paulding, you do not know how happy I have
been here with you; and I myself don't yet
know how much I shall miss you all."


933








"You are not going away?" asked Mrs.
Paulding.
"Again?" cried Polly; "and you have only
just come back."
Tom said nothing, but he looked at his uncle;
and Mr. Rapallo knew by this glance how much
his nephew would regret his departure.
"I am going away to-night," Uncle Dick
declared.
To-night ?" echoed Polly.
I hope you will not be gone so long as
you were the last time," Mrs. Paulding ex-
claimed.
"I 'm afraid I shall be gone longer," Mr.
Rapallo answered. ".In fact, I don't know
when I shall be back. I 'm a rolling stone,
you see, and I am always rolling on and trying


Oh, Richard," said Mrs. Paulding, "I had
hoped you would settle down here with us!"
I hoped so, too," her brother replied; "but
I 'm a wanderer on the face of the earth, and
there is no use in my trying to cast anchor
anywhere. I 've got to go out again into
deep water now, and I suppose I may try to
make myself believe that I start unwillingly;
but I don't deceive myself. I 'm getting rest-
less again; I 've seen the symptoms for some
time; to-day the fever was at its height, so I
took up with an offer Joshua Hoffmann made
me, and I start off to-night."
Then Marmee won't get her Chr-" Polly
was going to finish with "-istmas present,"
when she remembered herself.
"Yes, she will," Uncle Dick remarked.


UNCLE DICK GIVES TOM'S MOTHER HER CHRISTMAS PRESENT.


to gather moss. I leave New York to-night
for San Francisco, and next week I expect to
sail for Australia."
But you won't stay there long?" Polly
inquired.
"I think not," he answered; "for I have to
go to Japan and China and India. And when
I shall get back here again, I cannot ven-
ture even to guess--probably not for several
years."


"I did n't say it out-not all of it," ex-
plained Pauline, blushing.
"And I did n't need you to remind me
abofit it," her uncle responded, smiling.
Tom was sitting still, saying nothing, and
thinking that his uncle's absence would leave
a great void in the household, and almost
wishing that he, too, might go to see these
strange countries, Australia and India, China
and Japan.


TOM PAULDING.


934





TOM PAULDING.


When I went away at the beginning of the
year," Mr. Rapallo continued, I was working
out a little invention. I had to travel about
here and there, investigating, and improving
my model. At last I completed it, and yes-
terday a man to whom I had shown it wrote
and offered me a good price for it. I thought
of refusing at first, but I went to see him yes-
terday afternoon, and we had a long talk, and
finally I accepted. This morning I received
my money. It was a little more than I needed
to pay off the mortgage on this house-"
Richard! cried Mrs. Paulding, her eyes
filling with tears, while Tom's face flushed with
sudden pleasure.
"And I thought that was the best thing I
could do with the money," Mr. Rapallo went
on; "so Mr. Duncan and I arranged with the
lawyer of the mortgagee, and here is the docu-
ment, canceled. The first of June is a little
late for a Christmas present, I know; but bet-
ter late than never."
I do not think I ought to let you give me
this money of yours," said Mrs. Paulding.
"I do not think you can help yourself," an-
swered her brother. The deed is done-or
at least the mortgage is, and that leaves the
deed free. If Tom had had better luck with his
hydraulic mining, of course I should n't have
interfered with his intended arrangements."
I wanted to pay off the mortgage myself,"
said Tom, "but I 'd rather have you do it
than any one else; and of course I 'm de-
lighted that it is done. Mother won't worry
now,-that was what I wanted most."
"I know," his uncle replied; "but you want
to go to the School of Mines also, don't you ? "
"Now, with the mortgage paid, I think I
can manage that," Mrs. Paulding declared.
I think it can be arranged without any ex-
pense to you," Mr. Rapallo responded.
"How ?" cried Tom. "I wish it could! "
"Well," Uncle Dick began, "I '11 tell you
how. Mr. Joshua Hoffmann-"
"That's the Old Gentleman who leaned
over the Wall, is n't it? asked Tom.
"The Old Gentleman who leaned over the
Wall is Mr. Joshua Hoffmann," Mr. Rapallo
replied. "He is an old friend of mine, and it
is on his business that I am going to the East.
THE


935


One day when you.passed us I told him about
you, Tom, and about your quest for buried trea-
sure; and that is why he was standing by the
hydrant yesterday morning when we were ex-
perimenting with the 'working hypothesis.' He
was greatly interested in your success; he liked
your hammering out your puzzle for yourself;
and he was glad that you wanted a scientific
education. When I told him about the unfor-
tunate end of our wild-goose chase-how we
had found a goose that laid eggs of imitation
gold-he listened most attentively and with
real sympathy. This morning he said to me,
'If that nephew of yours wants to come to me
for the summer as a sort of private secretary-
you say he writes a good hand--I '11 take him
with me on the "Rhadamanthus"; and if I find
him to be what I think he is, I '11 send him to
the School of Mines at my own expense and
give him a place at the Eldorado Works when
he graduates. A boy with gumption and with
grit-that's the kind of boy I like to have
about me.'"
Oh, Uncle! cried Tom.
Will you accept ?" asked Mr. Rapallo.
Won't I! Tom returned. "That is, if
mother can spare me this summer."
I shall miss you, my boy, no doubt," Mrs.
Paulding answered; "but of course you must
go. The chance is too good to lose."

So it came to pass that Tom Paulding went
on a quest for buried treasure; and found it;
and it was worthless. He wanted the money
for a double purpose; and these things came
about in other ways. Yet his wild-goose chase
had not been a piece of folly; he felt himself
stronger for the striving, and perhaps he was
stronger for the disappointment.
Whether his quest had been altogether a fail-
ure or not, was a question Tom Paulding never
solved. Sometimes it seemed to him that per-
haps it may be a bad thing for a boy of New
York at the end of the nineteenth century to
expect to find buried treasure ready to his
hand; the boy might just as well hope to
have a fairy godmother. Now, we all know
that fairy godmothers are very infrequent now-
adays-in fact it may be said that they have
gone quite out of fashion.
END.


1892.]





Ah


Yeat


iBy 4udara S. Baumstead,


The sky is'blue and the weather is fair,
But Dolly is sick and ailin ;
InL Spite of all my trouble and care,
I can See that her health is failing .
The weather, is fair and the sky is blue,
And there's naught to trouble or fret her,
But. spite of all'l can say and do,
She's worse in the place of better.
7 ;// .- /.. ...


I'e given her baths both hot and cold,
Ive regulated her diet,
And every remedy, new or oldI
I ve hastened at once to try it.
So many errands for her Ive run;
Ire tended and trotted and rocked her;
Ifshe does not improve with all Ive done,
I really must send for the Doctor.


with Dolly












LEARNING TO BE WEATHER-PROPHETS.

BY S. A. WETMORE.


IT may not be long before many of the pupils
in the public and private schools of Boston will
be able to tell us just when storms and hot and
cold waves are coming; for they are learning
how to be weather-prophets. I think there is
no other place in the world where boys and
girls have taken up this study in their schools;
certainly, there is no other place where they
pursue it in a way so easy and interesting. The
plan is an excellent one, and I am sure it will
be adopted in other large cities when the sim-
ple story of it has been told in ST. NICHOLAS.
These Boston boys and girls have not been
trying very long to be prophets, but already
some of them are quite successful. Yet I am
told that at first they did not at all fancy the
idea of studying the weather, very likely be-
cause "meteorology" seemed to be such a hard
word to understand. I don't think they could
be blamed for their dislike to the science if
they had had to study it from a dreadfully
hard-looking text-book full of scientific terms
and puzzling charts and figures; but happily
a way has been found so easy that it sur-
prises one. Now that it has been found, the
wonder is it was not found before; but, then,
that is what people said when Columbus dis-
covered America, and, after all, the easiest
things often seem to be the hardest to find
out.
To begin with, these Boston boys and girls
receive at their schools every morning a little
map which gives them all the facts they are
to look into, and a very remarkable little map
it is. It has been coming out every day, just
like a newspaper, for years, and, like the news-
paper again, it has never yet been two days
alike. If you were asked to guess where it
comes from, I suppose you would say the school
committee sends it. As a matter of fact, its
publisher is a body of which we are even
prouder- I mean the United States Govern-


ment. The particular organization which has
charge of it is the Weather Bureau, and this,
in turn, is a branch of the Department of Agri-
culture at Washington.
At first the map seems hard to read, because
there are such strange signs on it; but these
soon become as familiar as the letters of the
alphabet, and one then sees on it plain pic-
tures of storms, clouds, and sunshine, rain and
snow, hot and cold waves. Almost at a glance
one sees the changes come, and the little map,
once fully understood, is much more reliable
than the best barometer any captain ever car-
ried to sea in his ship. What makes it so inter-
esting is the fact that it comes fresh every day,.
always with some new story to tell, and the
Government gets the information so quickly
that you know each day just what the weather
is like on that very day in California or New
Hampshire, in Boston or New York, or Chi-
cago or New Orleans-in fact in every State
and almost every city.
Of course, if we had to wait for the map to
come from Washington, it would tell only an
old story on its arrival; so a plan has been de-
vised which avoids all delay. It is a very ex-
pensive plan, but a very simple one, and well
worth all the money it costs. The Government
pays the bill willingly, and does not charge the
schools anything, not even postage.
Let me briefly describe the method: The
Weather Bureau has agents, who are called
"observers," at all the places throughout the
country from which it desires daily information.
At the moment the clock strikes eight in Boston,
-that is, in Eastern standard time,-these ob-
servers go to their instruments and write down
what is recorded at that instant. These instru-
ments tell them the temperature, the pressure of
the air, the direction of the wind, and how
many miles an hour it is moving, and the ob-
Sservers need only use their eyes to find out
37





LEARNING TO BE WEATHER-PROPHETS.


whether it is cloudy or clear or raining. They
tell by the registering thermometer how cold
it was during the night-that is, the lowest
temperature. Then the observers go to their


SIGNAL-SERVICE STATION ON TOP OF THE "EQUITABLE"
BUILDING, IN NEW YORK CITY.
telegraph instruments and forward their reports
at once to the central office at Washington.
Government messages have "right of way"
through all telegraph offices, and other busi-
ness must stand still for them; so it is not
many minutes after eight o'clock when the cen-
tral office is ready to make a map, which, by the
use of convenient symbols and lines, gives all
the facts in very small space. Before this map
is drawn, however, the reports are carefully
compared and all made into one, and are sent
by telegraph again to Boston, New York, St.
Louis, Chicago, and all the cities which are
sufficiently large to make it worth while to
print a map like that made in Washington.
In this way maps all just alike are being
made in many cities at the same moment
of time. The printing-machinery used is made
for the purpose, and is very rapid. Often as
early as ten o'clock in the morning, only two
hours after the observers on the Pacific coast


wrote their reports, the map containing those
reports is printed in Boston. I am sure there
is no newspaper able to do such rapid work
as this. The Government, however, has two
great advantages: its despatches are sent be-
fore even press despatches, and the machinery
for printing requires less time than the type-
setting and printing work of a newspaper.
The method was perfected and patented by
Mr. J. William Smith, the observer at Boston,
to whom also, I think, belongs the credit of get-
ting the boys and girls enough interested in the
maps to study them. Quite recently he made
an address to the Boston public-school teachers,
in the teachers' central lecture-room, and, of
course, he was able to tell them many new
things about the weather. And this new know-
ledge they carried back to their schools and
repeated to their pupils, greatly to the interest
and advantage of all.
Nearly all the large schools take the maps
now, and the boys and girls like to puzzle them
over and to see how good a guess they can

























A VANE, AND A WIND-GAGE.

make as to what the weather will be next day.
They know that storms move from west to east,
and when they find one over the Middle States,
and moving toward the Atlantic Ocean a cer-


938












S7O


-0-SaH ...s, .c....... ... a Ir-,0.
Local *oreoast.
For New Egilana Wednesdy. fair, slightly cooler, variable winds.
Thursday. cloudiness and rain,cooler.
Afair weather condition extends along ths Atlantic coast.
A storm is central in lowa moving slowly northeast HeevOrai n
ve fallen throuwkout the isouiM' pp and Ohio ver
va ,s and will p aoatly be f on e Atlantio coast by
Thus a The pereratuey hlave fallen slonhtly over the lt erio'
Se e H.H.Clayton,Local Forecast Official.


RAIN OR MELTED SNOW IN INCHES
FOR 12 HOURS ENDING &P.M.
STATIONS. AMOU.
Huron-- - I.
Omah -- - .90
Cincinnati-- .-
St. Louis .- 30
Iansas City- .30
St. Vincent -.. .22
North Platte -- .oe
Knoxvill -.- --- .12
St. Paul- -- -- -
Key West .00
Ft. Smith ---. 2.90
Nw Orleans 01
Eostport ....... .T
Northfield T-. -
Atlantta ----- T
pMemplis ...... T,
Chicago -BX
Note:-first four figures are
reduced air pressure in mlches,
next figures are temperature at
8PM.,figures under pressure
are wind velocity those under
temperature are the maximum te
perature'in the past 12 -hours.
Lines by H.C. by
Figures by


OCUlOiOESS(DFAIlYCLOUOYer CUDYOCLOU orAlN )SNONW


SON O THE DAILY WEATHERAPS.
COPY OF ONE OF THE DAILY WEATHER-MAPS.


0. 5 10*






LEARNING TO BE WEATHER-PROPHETS.


tain number of miles each day, they try to fix
the hour when rain will begin to fall at Bos-
ton. In the same way, they look for cold
waves in Minnesota, or even away off in Mon-
tana, and follow them as, day by day, they roll
across the great lakes, over Ohio, and then to
New York and the seaboard; and more than
one Boston boy knew enough to have his skates
ready at the right times last winter.
Some of the teachers know the maps so
well now that they do not make mistakes in


their predictions much oftener than the officials
at Washington do. And this only a little while
ago was a lesson they supposed they never
could learn, much less teach it to others. In
the other cities where the maps are printed they
are used only by boards of trade and business
houses, but General Greely once told me he
would like them to be used everywhere as they
are used in Boston. General Greely is not now
at the head of the Weather Bureau, but I am
sure that the new chief has the same wish.


THE DODISH MORAL SIGNAL-SERVICE.

By S. EDWARD PASCHALL.


IF an advertisement for a lost dog states that
the missing animal answers to the name of
"Rover," the reader naturally assumes that Rover
is the dog's name; and so if I tell about a little
girl who answers to the name of "Dodish," you
may assume that Dodish is her name-but it is
not. Neither is her name Daddies nor Ann
Jane, though she answers to these names quite
readily; nor is it "House-afire," though she has
been known to answer (perhaps rather tartly) to
that name also. Not without going into the
philosophy of children's nicknames could I
explain the origin of the name Dodish. But
I can tell you all about the great Dodish Moral
Signal-Service.
You see, Dodish lives among green fields in
summer, and amid a white landscape in win-
ter. In other words, she is a little country girl,
aged eight years, with a tendency to be old-
fashioned. She wishes she had been twins, so
that a constant playfellow would be at her side;
but not being twins she accepts the fellowship
of dog, cat, rabbit, or even calf, and manages to
drag out an existence which is by no means
lonesome or solitary. When she is good, she is
about as happy as any healthy girl can hope to
be : a statement which at least insinuates that
she is not always good.


Her brother and sister, both older than
Dodish, go to school at the seminary in the
village, and the flag-staff on the top of the high
building is plainly in view of Dodish at her
home. The school displays the weather-signals
which are daily telegraphed all over the land
by the Government. Do you know how to
read these weather-signals ?
If you will look at any daily newspaper you
will find somewhere a little paragraph headed
"weather predictions," and if you will carefully
note the weather you will find that these pre-
dictions, which are not mere guesses, come out
nearly true.
There are four flags in an ordinary signal-
service set, as follows: One square white flag,
which means clear weather; one square dark
flag, which means storm-either rain or snow;
one dark-colored triangular flag, which means
temperature; and one square white flag, with a
dark center, which means cold wave." These
signals are always read from the top downward.
When the temperature-flag is not displayed, it
means that no change is to be expected; but
when the triangle is floating with the other flags,
it means that the weather is to be warmer or
colder, as it may be above or below them.
Dodish studied the signals until she had mas-


940






THE DODISH MORAL SIGNAL-SERVICE.


tered them. She thought it was very interest-
ing to know in advance the state of the weather.
THIE IVAT84E
WfamsT ou 0.0.. 0 ay t- P. )L-VOiaat far


-7Clear
>- >* '


temperature
Colder.


\Co} ^ yo. Rain
t, \Rain Or' Sno .
WEATHER-SIGNALS, AND A NEWSPAPER WEATHER-REPORT.
It seemed useful, too; for 1er mother soon came
to consult the flags each morning, and when the
storm-signal was flying, the older children's din-
ners were given to them in a neat basket, so
that they need not come home at noon. Do-
dish did not go to school that term.
Then an idea came to Dodish, and she pro-
ceeded to carry it into effect. She would have
a signal-service of her own,-a sort of moral
signal-service, which would indicate the atmo-
sphere of the household. She would hang up
symbols every morning to indicate the moral
probabilities of the day.
Her mother did not discourage the idea.
Perhaps she thought a domestic signal-service
officer in the family might be very useful-
especially if the observer" happened to be the
very person most familiar with juvenile hurri-
canes and storm-centers,


At any rate, Dodish went to work and pro-
duced her signals. She did it in a quiet way.
She chose paper of various colors, and cut de-
signs of several shapes. She found yellow and
white paper, but had to resort to her paint-box
to obtain black, blue, pink, and red, of the
proper shades. The signals she made, if not
artistic, were unique,-which is all right for
signals.
For a flag-staff she chose a hook above a
window, on which a canary's cage had once
hung. To this hook she somehow attached a
string, of length sufficient to be within daily
reach from a chair.
Next morning, with-
out any useless cere-
mony or delay, the
moral signal-service
went into effect. At
breakfast-time there
was a signal flying,
and several others
were ready for use as
occasion might re-
quire.
"This signal," she
explained, "is 'Sun-
shine.' I am going to
be bright and cheer-
ful to-day. You will
see. It is made of yel-
low paper. Don't you
think it looks like Sun S h ine.
sunshine, mama?"
Then she proceeded to explain the other
signals. Here is one called 'Storm'; it is 'Old
Thunder Cloud.' It is painted black. It may
be wanted some
day when I feel
cross. I am not
going to be cross,
Syou know, if I
can help it; but
sometimes I can't
help it, and then
I must use this
signal.
"The white-
horse signal means
TIh;ae 'm 4 'Peace,' That is


94'


'" J







THE DODISH MORAL SIGNAL-SERVICE.


when everything is quiet in the house and
we are not going to quarrel. I have written
his name on him-'P-i-e-c-e.'"
"The red horse means danger. That is his
name -
~I Danger. '
( Don't you
see his hor-
rid check-
rein? I
Pe hate check-
eace. reins. It is
wicked to use them, and I feel like doing some-
thing awful whenever I see a man driving a horse
with a check-rein. I want to put the check-
rein on the man every time, and make it tight,
and drive him, and see how he would like to
have his head away up in that style. I would
hitch him to a chair, and make him go on his
hands and knees, and he would never want
to use a check-rein again.
"There are two other signals," continued
Dodish. "They are called Happy' and Un-
happy.' Happy is pink and Unhappy is blue.
Can't you remember all the signals easily ? "
The family favored the idea, and the next


morning the double signals displayed were in-
terpreted to mean "Happiness followed by Sun-
shine." We were delighted with the scheme.
The moral signal-service is still in use, and
may continue. It ought to last. We are willing
to allow Dodish to act as signal-officer for life.
Unlike other systems, the signal-officer can con-


Danger.
trol the conditions, and can bring to pass an
ideal type of indoor weather.
Hence these may become, with practice on
the part of the officer in charge, the most
charming of forecasts. The yellow, the pink,
and the white signals may be always kept up,
and the red, the black, and the blue signals
may be permanently kept out of sight.


I UNDERSTAND most languages that human beings speak-
French, German, Spanish, English, with Latin, Dutch, and Greek;
But I have a very little boy who 's wiser far than I,
For he 's puzzled me completely by a very strange reply.
A circus came to town, one day, and Tommy longed to go; i
He asked me for permission, and I simply answered no.
His chin turned up, his mouth turned down, he stamped and
clenched his hand,
And uttered this queer sentence that I could n't understand:
" I don't-ah, ooh-boo, ah Papa! You might, you never-boo!
Ur, hur! er-let me go, ah yah! to any-Oh! Boo-hoo!"
At least, it sounded so to me; and what I 'd like to know
Is whether some obliging boy his cleverness will show,
By sending me, in English, what Tommy meant to say
The time that he addressed me in that very foreign way.


942


f I










A CHILD'S VERSES.
(Written at the age of eleven.)

By Lucy WEBLING.


THE SEA.

I LOOKED front the window early.
One ship upon the sea:
Its sails are furled, it resteth still--
A lovely sight to me.

The sparrows were singing, singing--
I heard them far and wide;
I watched .the sea as I listened.
Low was the morning tide.


HER AGES.

WHEN I was nineteen, then my love
Was more than forty-three;
When I was twenty-five, my love
Was eighteen, fair to see!
Now I am fifty, and my love
Is little more than three.


HER MOODS.

SHE frowned on me, a naughty frown,
And oh! it was a shame, I vow,
To wrinkle and to crisscross too
Her fair and smooth and lofty brow.

Btt I was blithe and I was gay,
And so I chased the frown away.

And then she pouted, half in jest;
She had to keep with all her might
From laughing. Still, the pout was there;
Her rosy lips were puckered tight.

What coaxing words I had to say
Before I chased the pout away!

And then she cried, and tear-drops fell,
And for the change I was not glad;


She looked so sorrowful, and I-
I could not bear to see her sad.

With pleading soft and speeches gay
At length the tears were chased away,

And then she smiled. Ah! what a change-
The laughter lights within her eyes;
She was so loving, dear, and bright,
She seemed an angel from the skies.

With red-rose cheeks and raven hair,
I kissed the smile to keep it there.


ON A BIRTHDAY.

IT is your birthday, sister mine;
I would your room with flowers deck,
And give you many wondrous gifts,
Had I the fays at call and beck.

Flowers I 'd strew beneath your feet,
And books of learning I would give,
Red roses that would fade away,
And everlasting flowers that live.

Then take this scroll and read it through;
Excuse the blot, excuse the dash,-
All of these things they should be yours,
But, sister mine, I lack the cash.


INGRATITUDE.

IN the darkened room
There 's a glimpse of gold.
"That is baby's bright hair,"
In whispers I 'm told.

"My own darling baby!"
The mother now cries.
"Don't overr" it murmur'd,
And closed its eyes.








i*/ik'*'A A VAfln


S* LEONIDAS *

(A Tale of the Turkish War with Greece.)

BY ANNA ROBESON BROWN.

GREECE, the desolate and broken, lay beneath the burning sun,
All her fortresses had yielded, all her strongholds one by one;
And her fair proud head bent helpless, at the mercy of the foe:
Not a soldier to defend her from the Turk who laid her low.

Far down the dusty highway, through the fields of trampled grain,
Past the still, deserted village, past the cattle on the plain,

With the steady clank of sabers and the trumpet's martial din,
Passed a conquering Turkish squadron, and its chief, El-Abarrin.

Not a peasant ran to watch them, not a lad to see them pass;
But the footsteps of their horses made a murmur in the grass;
And the grim chief in his mantle smiled to see the home unblest,
And the goodman's comer empty, and the goodwife's wheel at rest.

Suddenly, his charger reining, "What is this?" quoth Abarrin;
"Surely something comes to meet us where we thought no foe to win!

"But my eyes are dim with dust-flakes-look, I pray, and tell to me;
For, by Allah! to my seeing 't is a wondrous enemy!"







LEONIDAS. 945
At command, the squadron halted- curbed each man his restless horse;
While the little band came onward, fearless, in the foeman's course,

Clust'ring closely, all together, as they drew his sight within:
"By the Prophet's holy Kaaba!--children!" quoth El-Abarrin.

Such. a rabblement of children! every age, and every size,
Golden-haired and dark-haired maidens, lads with steadfast Grecian eyes,

Armed with flails, with scythes and sabers, in right soldierly array,
And the earnest, childish faces proving there was more than play.

In amazement stood the squadron, as the little band drew near,-
Not a childish footstep faltered, not a childish face showed fear,-

Till before the waiting squadron in the road they halted nigh.
"What trick is this, I pray you?" cried the Turk amazedly.

From the little crowd of children stepped a lad not twelve years old;
Fearless were the eyes. he lifted, and his bearing free and bold.

In his hand he held a banner, bearing on its silken fleece,
Torn and soiled, the simple ensign of their once victorious Greece.

-"Sir," he said, "we 've come to fight you. Father said, the other night,
Greece had lost her glorious soldiers, not a Spartan shield was bright.

"And he told how, in past ages, Grecian warriors died to save
All their homesteads from the Persian, and their children from the grave.

"How Leonidas stood fighting all day long against the foe;
How he fell, and how his comrades yielded sorely, blow by blow.


-_--~--




"And, my father says, the noblest death that any Greek can die
Is defending home and hearthstone from the cruel enemy.

"So I gathered here my playmates, and I told them all the tale,
And I bade them carry weapons, stick and saber, stone and flail.

"And we thus come out to meet you, and to die, if need must be,
As the band of noble Spartans died at old Thermopyle."

Not a word the chieftain answered, but he turned his horse's feet,
And he bade the Turkish trumpet sound the order for retreat.

Smiling then, he drew his saber from its shining, crooked sheath:
"You have fairly won the battle, and deserve the victor's wreath.
VOL. XIX.-60.







946 LEONIDAS.






















--- -_- ^ -
















"So, in token of surrender over all the troops that pass,
Here I yield to you, 0 Captain! Take the sword, Leonidas!"

Then, saluting low his captor, turned the chief his bridle-rein,
And ere long the Turkish squadron was a dust-cloud on the plain.






















UNTINO


IN FAZI L.


B3ERBERT. I&. MITH.


l NE dark night in
October, 1885, I
was sitting astride
the branch of a
tree. I could dim-
ly see the outlines of another tree, where my
friend Bert was ensconced; and Carlos was
somewhere near. Below us the water of a little
pond could be faintly distinguished.
Ten o'clock; eleven; midnight: not a sound,
and the situation was becoming unbearable.
Then-flash! bang! from Bert's tree. There
came a crash as of some heavy animal making
off through the thickets. There was a general
scramble, and we three came together like the
divisions of an army when the roar of cannon
proclaims a battle; but there had been no
slaughter apparently, so we went growling off
to camp.
This was my first tapir-hunting experience:
five hours in that stony-hearted tree, and no-
thing to show for it. We found in the morning
the tracks of three tapirs, which must have
come down to drink not far from our trees; but
they had moved so quietly, and it was so dark,
that we had not noticed them.
Tapir-hunting is full of such disappointments.


In the wilder parts of South /
America you can bag a deer or wild hog almost
any day, if you set wisely about it; but months
may pass without even the sight of a tapir, though
you may be in their haunts continually. You see
plenty of unmistakable three-toed tracks, and
now and again you may hear tapirs moving in
the forest-not leaping through openings be-
tween the vines and branches as a deer does,
nor pushing the brush aside like a jaguar, but
crushing their way by sheer strength, with a
great crackling of twigs.
It is almost useless to follow tracks or
sounds; clumsy as the animals appear, they can
race through the underbrush faster than a dog
can follow; and they are so keen of sight and
scent, and so prone to concealment, that even
the most experienced hunter rarely catches
sight of one in the daytime, unless by accident.
The best plan is to lie in wait for them, as the
lithe and crafty jaguar does, by their drinking
and wallowing places, and this must be done
at night.
I may as well add here that tapirs are com-
mon all over tropical South and Central Amer-
ica, except the thickly settled regions and the
Pacific coast. Naturalists distinguish several







TAPIR-HUNTING IN BRAZIL.


species, differing mainly in size and the struc-
ture of the bones; but they are much alike. All
go singly, or in bands generally of two or three,
and feed on fruits and leaves.
Well, we bagged a tapir, and a big one, too;
for, if our first tapir-hunt was a failure, our
second was a grand success. Bert and I, in
one of our long insect-seeking excursions, came
across a bit of tangled forest, sloping down,
apparently to the bed of a stream. It was
dreadfully thick growth, what with the vines
and thorny bushes; but we scrambled through
somehow, hoping to get a drink of water. At
the bottom of the slope, instead of a stream, we
found a dismal hollow, about sixty yards across,
shaped precisely like a cup or bowl, but with
one side broken away where the hollow had its
outlet. Sides and bottom were of stiff clay,
littered with fallen trees and dank rotting vege-
tation; near the middle there were two or three
muddy pools. We peered over the sides, but
the place was so uncanny that we were about
to beat a quick retreat, when something at the
bottom caught Bert's eye. We looked again,
and that hollow suddenly transformed itself into
the loveliest spot in all Brazil! You may laugh,
but wait until you have hunted tapirs vainly
for six months! Then you can understand why
we sat down and gazed for ten minutes into the
hole, and could hardly tear ourselves away from
it. Not two or three lines of three-toed tracks,
but the whole muddy bottom was full of them,
small and large, old and fresh, one over the
other, so that many parts were trodden into
shapelessness, like the ground in a cattle-yard.
It was clearly a barreira--a spot where the for-
est animals come, not only to wallow, but to
lick the clay, which, no doubt, is slightly im-
pregnated with salt. Even from the bank we
could distinguish tracks of deer and wild hogs
as well as of tapirs. Best of all, the place was
undisturbed; I doubt if a hunter had seen it for
a century, and all we had to do was to conceal
ourselves some night at the top, and wait for
our tapirs; almost the whole place was within
easy shot from where we stood, and we would
be so high that there would be little danger of
detection by scent.
We resolved to set about our work methodi-
cally, and make sure of success. So the next


day we let Carlos into the secret, and together
we hurried off to the barreira, carrying an ax
and a large knife. Of course we did n't go down
into the hollow itself. That would have been
unpardonably foolish. As quietly as we could,
we cut palm-leaves and poles and made a lit-
tle thatched hut on the bank, taking care to
conceal it as much as possible. The sides were
made of similar thatch, carefully closed in under
the eaves; and we had a door of plaited palm-
leaves, which could be tightly shut. All holes
were carefully stopped up; only on the side
facing the hollow we left narrow loopholes for
shooting. Thus arranged, the hut would not
only serve as a shelter and screen, but it would
in -great measure keep our scent from being
carried into the surrounding forest. It was
also an advantage that the hut was thirty feet
above the hollow.
When all was finished to our satisfaction, we
went away-and stayed away for a month.
We knew that the tapirs would see and scent
our shelter, carefully as we had concealed it,
and we wanted to give them time to get over
their first distrust. Not only did we keep away
from the hollow-we did n't go within a mile
of the place during all that time, and we did
not fire a gun within two miles of it. Mean-
while we had the proud sense of a mighty secret
to console us. At the end of the month, only
we three knew of the barreira and the hut.
At length the auspicious time came; we
chose a night when the moon was nearly full
so that we might have plenty of light. The
two double-barreled guns-rifles would have
been better, but we had none-were thor-
oughly cleaned, and cartridges loaded with
heavy charges of powder and buckshot, with
a bullet over all; we carried a few spare car-
tridges, but not many, for it was fairly cer-
tain that the shooting would be limited to ten
seconds or so.
All this the boys arranged; as for myself,
I had a well-founded distrust of my shoot-
ing powers, and, as usual, agreed to go as a
looker-on. It is an office of little glory, but
not without its compensations.
Well, we started about four o'clock in the
afternoon, and walked rapidly until near sun-
set; then we stopped at a little brook about























L~~r


ifr
CI


o ~-1'4i~
Ilk


JAGUAR ATTACKING A TAPIR.
949


i" .1~~~~
:C;


i,
2.


* ^. Y*"''
b''t:- "


~''"


r.







TAPIR-HUNTING IN BRAZIL.


a mile from the barreira to bathe, and to put o'clock a deer walked quietly up the ravine
ourselves into thoroughly clean trousers and into the hollow, and stood in the moonlight,
blouses, leaving the soiled ones by the brook. not thirty yards from us. It was a sore temp-
After refreshing ourselves with a lunch, we station, but the boys never stirred; they were
stole on to the barreira, reaching the hut just waiting for rarer game. The deer evidently
after sunset. had no suspicion of our presence, though what
wind there was blew
from us and over the
hollow; I suppose the
place was so deep that
our scent passed quite
over it. We were well
satisfied with this test
of our concealment.
Some dark forms--
wild hogs, no doubt-
appeared at the mouth
of the ravine, but none
of them came higher.
Then!- the hunters
gripped their guns and
held their breath-
one, two, three, four
great animals marched
up in line, quite coolly,
and evidently at home
in the place. Theywere
tapirs For even before
they reached the strip
of moonlight, their size
and gait distinguished
them; two were as big
as small cows, though
not so high; the others
were somewhat smaller,
evidently the young of
the family.
The animals stopped
"THERE WAS A GRAND STAMPEDE." (SEE PAGE 951.) The animalsstopped
at the first pool, and
In the dusk we could not see whether there for a moment we feared they might come no
were any fresh tracks; so we ensconced our- higher. It was long range, and the boys had
selves behind the palm-thatch walls and waited agreed to wait for a sure shot. But our alarm
patiently. The mosquitos were terrible, but was needless. The tapirs walked into the pool,
we gritted our teeth and brushed them off drank, and one of them lay down in the wa-
gently; slapping them would have been quite ter, wallowing and grunting a little. Then
out of order. they moved on, straight toward us, but very
The sunlight faded, but the moon, although slowly; we could see them stopping now and
still new, was silvery bright, and we could then to pick up fruits with their curious long
see the bottom of the hollow very plainly. An prehensile noses, using them almost as ele-
owl or two flitted across; and about eight phants use their trunks. Now they were just


950







TAPIR-HUNTING IN BRAZIL.


below us; two shots rang out, and two more a
second after. There was a grand stampede,
a shrill whistle, and as the smoke blew over
we saw one of the larger tapirs rush straight
up the side of the hollow, and disappear in the
thickets; the others made off down the ravine.
We got out of the hut somehow, and began
to search among the bushes, guided only by
the uncertain moonlight; but both the boys
were sure that the large tapir had been
wounded, if not killed, and they would not
give it up. After half an hour of scrambling
and cutting through the underbrush, a shout
from Carlos brought us together; there was
the great animal, lying on its side in a tangle
of vines and sticks, stone dead. The boys had
bagged their tapir at last!
This was a monster; all three of us together
could hardly roll the body over. To get it
away that night was clearly impossible; so we
let the creature lie there, being certain that no
jaguar would come near it after the noise we
had made. Indeed, a jaguar will not touch a
dead animal unless of its own killing. With
some difficulty we got up the hill and walked
home, reaching the house about midnight, and
waking everybody with a grand fusillade in
token of success.
Next morning we took Vicente cautiously
into the secret,-for we were determined to
have another hunt at the barreira,-and, fur-
nished with knives and an ax, we went to
Look up our game.
It took us fully two hours to skin the ani-
mal; and the skin alone, slung to a pole, was
a heavy load for Carlos and Vicente. Tapir-
skins are very thick, and, when properly


tanned, perhaps the finest of all leather, where
great strength is required; they are very hand-
some, too, curing almost white. In Brazil
these hides are in great demand for lariats,
halters, and so on, and in the cities they bring
high prices. Ours was the largest I ever saw,
nearly six feet long, and on the coast would
have sold readily for thirty or forty dollars.
The bones we dragged up the hill, and well
away from it, lest the unsavory presence should
keep other animals from the place.
For days after our back-yard was adorned
with festoons of salted tapir-meat, drying in the
sun; and this furnished our table for a long
time, whenever fresh meat was lacking. By the
time it gave out the boys had a fresh supply;
for at intervals they watched many times by
this barreira, and by another one which they
found. Sometimes they were unsuccessful, but
altogether they killed several tapirs, though none
so large as our first one, nor did they manage
to shoot more than one in an evening. We
called the first barreira our butcher-stall; when-
ever Dolly found the larder running low she
would say, "Come, boys, it is time to go to
market!" They used to growl good-naturedly
about the mosquitos and the rain, and what
not; but I think they were always glad to go.
After a time other hunters discovered the secret,
and visits to the hollow became so numerous
that animals got shy of the place. The last
time the boys went they brought home a deer,
but declared there was no hunting left at the
barreira. I hope the place is forgotten by this
time, and that, some years hence, a party of
ST. NICHOLAS boys may rediscover it and
shoot a tapir bigger than ours.







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

"Ho for Summer bright and gay says your
friend Julie M. Lippmann, in some ringing rhymes
just sent to this pulpit. And so says your Jack,
my hearers, as he sees how much brighter are your
eyes and browner your faces, because of your long
outing. Yes, ho for Out-of-Doors that all-the-
year-round wonder-world of health and happiness.
Here are the rhymes. They are called

A JEWEL SONG.
HEY for turquoise sky and sea,
Emerald grass and leafy tree,
Topaz sunlight, onyx shade,-
Ho! for Spring, the joyous maid.
Hey! for sapphire ocean blue,
Opal sky and moonstone dew,
Agate night and amber day,-
Ho! for Summer bright and gay.
Hey! for garnet bough and vine,
Amethyst grape and ruby wine,
Golden setting for them all,-
Ho for brilliant, sad-heart Fall.
Hey for silver glistening frost,
Pearls of snow past any cost,
Diamond ice and crystal air,-
Ho for Winter cold and fair.

WHEN A MATCH WAS A WONDER.
WHAT every-day trifle seems more commonplace
to you than a match? Yet there was a time, it
seems, when that simple bit of wood and phos-
phorus was quite a curiosity, as this letter shows:
DEAR JACK: I want to tell you about a wonderful
bit of magic that was no magic at all. It happened
more than fifty years ago. An old sailor, who dearly
loves to tell "tales of the stormy sea," amused a party
of youngsters not long ago by the narration of many
strange happenings, but none stranger than this: When


he was about fifteen years of age, he sailed from a New
England seaport, on a four years' whaling voyage, doub-
ling Cape Horn, and going up the Pacific Coast, into the
Arctic regions. When he left, there was no way of getting
fire, except with flint and steel.
The end of four years found him again in the old
seaport town; and, accompanied by a messmate, he went
into a shop to buy cigars.
The man in attendance passed out several; then taking
a small stick from a box, he struck it against the wall, and
ablaze burst forth. The amazement of the young sailors
was unbounded. Lucifer matches were something they
had never seen or heard of, for they were invented dur-
ing their long, tedious voyage, and were just coming into
general use. E. M. C-- .
A TRAGEDY.
MARY found one morning, stretched across her favor-
ite corner in the play-room, a large spider web. Not
fancying this style of decoration, she took her little broom
and brushed it down, giving it no further thought. But
what was her surprise the next morning to find the web
again there!
Madam Spider, it seems, had herself taken a liking to
this special corner, and under cover of the night had
rebuilt her house, laying broad her foundations and
strengthening the structure by many a line and stay.
For six days this unequal warfare continued; six times
did Mary ruthlessly destroy that which had cost the
spider so much labor.
When on the seventh morning the web was again there,
Mary, wondering where the tireless worker kept herself,
looked about, and there, sure enough, in a silken tunnel
under the web, sat Madam Spider, her eyes gleaming
brightly.
Mary quietly moved her things away, and left the
spider in possession of the disputed corner. She was
beginning to feel a sense of companionship with her
room-mate, when a wasp came in at the open window
and soon spied the web, and making his way to it, went
underneath in search of the spider; finding her so snugly
hidden in her tunnel, he seemed to give up the idea, if
he had any, of attacking her, and flew about the room
again, but before long he alighted on the web with much
buzzing and fluttering. Mary thought that now the spi-
der would have her house again pulled down over her
head. But, alas! a sadder fate was in store for our
unfortunate friend. Hungry for her breakfast, she
rushed forth eager to capture the intruder, when the
designing wasp seized her and flew away with her, leav-
ing Mary the empty web, and a pang at the remem-
brance of her harshness toward the little spinner.
MRS. A. H. W

A FAIRY SHIP IN FAIRY-LAND.
WHILE we are upon the subject of spiders, it is
pleasant to know that they do not all suffer such a
fate as did the one that was spared by Mary only
to be killed by the wasp. Hear what Mr. Nugent
has to say of this valiant voyager:
DEAR JACK: I send you a picture of a pretty sailing-
craft-such a dainty craft as one might expect to find in
fairy-land. It is a living ship, too; for on looking care-
fully you will see the oblong body of a spider resting upon
eight outstretched legs, placed lightly on the surface of the
water. If you were fortunate enough to get close to one
of these tiny ships, and could look at it through a magnify-
ing-glass, you might perhaps discover thatit floated on a
delicate silken float too finely woven to be seen by the
naked eye. Sails of finest gossamer, gracefully floating
before the gentlest breezes, complete the fairy outfit.
This beautiful yacht was discovered by Dr. H. C. Mc-


952








JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


Cook of Philadelphia. The celebrated naturalist was study-
ing the actions of a certain species of spiders when run-
ning over water. To obtain specimens, he beat some tall
marsh-grasses that overhung a lake, and a number of
spiders were thrown down. All but one hastily scurried
across the surface of the water and were soon ashore;
but this one, having been thrown out farther than the
others, exhibited a mode of traveling which was quite
startling, even to the learned naturalist.
After falling from the grass, it
made no 1ttenpt to move .-.-
as the .:.- l.:r iri ...: .
did, bt r q5ie.
for ,la .
Then, .l..t "


ashore. The Doctor did not consider this short journey
a fair test, so lifting the spider on the end of his cane, he
placed it somewhat farther out upon the surface of the lake.
Like the other, this spider was still for a moment,
but soon from its spinnerets floated a number of silken
threads. These formed silken sails for the little crea-
ture. The wind blowing on these fairy sails caused
the living sail-boat to scud over the surface at a
lively rate. Just for an experiment,
the Doctor several times
..... changed the spider's
: -: ur I, I, .:.wmn g on
,the: ,1," or fan-
nilg :lose to it
i' vtlh his hat.


-1
WE__-
a- MAr


3--


- - -


-,r

\-.


any noticeable movement of its legs, it suddenly glided During this trip, the spider's legs were drawn to-
rapidly across the surface to the land. How this motion gether upward and kept straight, thus holding its
was caused was a complete puzzle to the Doctor. Hop- body completely out of the water. Each foot made
ing to solve the problem, he beat the grasses once more, a wavelet and ripples as the pretty craft ran shoreward
This time another spider belonging to the same species was before the wind. Your friend,
thrown in, but so near to the land that it easily paddled MEREDITH NUGENT.


953


;--- --;;~
----~----------
----=
-=-~---~--
--
-- --4-


LII =i--


I '. '








[The following little story is told to a girl of three, by her mother. The mother imitates
the voices of the different animals, and when she comes to the "A B C" part she takes an
alphabet-card and the little girl shows her how Susie and Bertie said their letters to the teacher.l

BERTIE'S FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL.


ONE day Bertie's mama gave him a little book, and a tin pail full of
nice things for dinner, and told him to go to school.
Bertie went a little way up the road, and met a dog. He began to be
lonely, for he had no one to walk with,
so he said, Doggie, don't you want
to go to school with me?" But the
dog said only, Bow-wow!" and ran
away.
Bertie went on, and pretty soon
S. he met a lamb. "Don't you want
to go to school with me?" said he.


But the lamb said only, "Bah bah !"
and ran away.
Then Bertie met a cow with long, '"
sharp horns; but she did not look as ,'
if she would hurt a little boy. So he /
said, Bossy, don't you want to go to
school with me?" But the cow said ',
only, "Moo-o, moo-o!" and went on F .
eating grass.
A little way
on Bertie saw a
pig. "Piggy, don't you want to go
to school with me?" he said. But the
1 pig only said, "Ugh! ugh!" and lay
--- I' down in the sun.
SBy and by Bertie saw a path that
-- came down a hill into the road. Just
as he got to the path a little girl ran
out into the road. It was Bertie's
cousin, Susie.
"Where are you going, Cousin Susie?" he said, when she came near.
I am going to school," said the little girl, showing him her books.







FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. 955
" Oh there is where I am going," said Bertie. "May I go with you? "
"Yes," said Susie ; "but we must hurry. Don't you hear the bell ringing?
.-What have you in your pail?"
--"-'=" "A piece of bread and butter, a
i," A' 1 nice little pie, a nice little cake, and
i. I an apple," said Bertie.
S-' i By this time they were at the
S school, and they both went in.
The teacher asked their names.


Bertie told his name, and the little
girl said her name was Susie.
Then they stood by the teacher
and said (" What did they say ? ")-
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L,
M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X,
7T 7 "


When Bertie came home, he said: '
"Mama, I met a dog and asked him to
go to school, and he said, 'Bow-wow!' and I asked a lamb and he said,
' Bah! bah!' and I asked a cow, and she said, 'Moo-o, moo-o!' and I asked
a pig, and he said, 'Ugh! ugh!' and none of them would go with me.
Then I met Cousin Susie, and she went with me."


^ -" .. .. *'a .. 'a.:-- v .. .* ..... .

"DO YOU TAKE CREAM, MISS JONES?"


*- ^


--~-~-~
yr
~ral
















-THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the Ist of June and the 15th of September, manuscript can-
not conveniently be examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the
magazine with contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


FORT WALLA WALLA, WASHINGTON.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We four little girls, whose
fathers are stationed at this post, send you a check of
twenty-six dollars; and we want to know if you would be
kind enough to send it to Helen Keller for Tommy, as
we do not know her address. We have been greatly
interested in what we have read of them in ST. NICHO-
LAS. We made this money ourselves, and want to tell you
how we did it.
We four girls have a club called the "H. H. Club";
we meet once a week, and each gives five cents for char-
ity. We have had the club only a few months, so we
have not much money; but on June 8, 1892, we gave a
strawberry festival. A kind fruit-grower, Mr. Offner,
gave us all the strawberries.
The cake was given by our families. The adjutant
let us have the band and the hop-room, so our expenses
were not much. We made our dresses ourselves, of five-
cent white cheese-cloth, with red sashes and caps to
match, a bunch of red roses, and our badges, which were
red also. About sixty people came, and we danced and
had a good time.
Pres.--CONSTANCE L. MILLS,
ten years old.
Sec. and Treas.- MARGARET S. SMITH,
twelve years old.
SUE S. SMITH,
eleven years old.
HELEN KOERPER,
ten years old.
THIS letter was promptly forwarded to Helen Keller,
and here is her answer:

TUSCUMBIA, ALABAMA, July 13, 1892.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It has given me very great
pleasure to write to the four little girls who raised the
twenty-six dollars to help educate Tommy Stringer.
And, thinking that the children would be pleased to
receive my letter through ST. NICHOLAS, I inclose it
with many thanks for all that ST. NICHOLAS has done to
interest its readers in dear little Tommy's case. I fre-
quently receive letters and money from kind persons, who
say they first heard of my efforts in Tommy's behalf
through ST. NICHOLAS.
I am, gratefully, your little friend,
HELEN KELLER.
INCLOSED was the following graceful reply to her
generous little friends:

TUSCUMBIA, ALABAMA, July 13, 1892.
DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS: Please accept my loving
thanks for the twenty-six dollars you sent to help educate
dear little Tommy. I cannot but think these are blessed
dollars, because they are sent to help a blind and deaf


child "out of darkness into light." Then, too, they
represent the tender sympathy of four happy children
for a little stranger, in a distant State, who must all his
life miss a great deal that other boys and girls enjoy.
I feel sure that you will be glad to hear that Tommy
is adding a little to his store of knowledge every day.
He behaved perfectly well all through the commence-
ment exercises of the Perkins Institution, which were
held in Boston last June, and many expressions of praise
were heard concerning him. He sat among the kinder-
garten children, his round face beaming with happy
smiles, and while the others were singing about the
blacksmith, he stood and hammered his fat little fists
also. With love for all from HELEN KELLER.
CONSTANCE L. MILLS, SUE S. SMITH,
MARGARET S. SMITH, HELEN KOERPER.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is a true story. About
a year ago a gentleman was walking along one of the
streets of Oneida, N. Y. He saw a turtle taking its
Sunday walk. Its size was about four inches across
its back. He picked it up, for he thought he would
like to take it home to his. little boy, whose name
was Paul. A little girl, in Oneida, found another a few
days after, which she gave to the gentleman to take home
to his baby girl Ruth. This one was very small, not
much more than an inch wide. The gentleman lived in
Boston, and had to ride on the steam-cars to get home.
He carried the turtles in a box, and put them in the hat-
rack. The larger turtle got out of the box, fell upon the
floor, and crawled over a lady's dress. She screamed,
and the owner found him there and put him in the
box again. When the gentleman got home, the turtles
jumped out of the box upon the table. They would walk
around the table and fall on the floor. The children
would pick them up again. The children put them in a
pan with water and mud, and in the morning would feed
them worms.
After a cold night the larger turtle was found dead in
the morning. The children thought he froze to death.
They were very sorry, and buried him in the garden.
They put the little turtle under the stationary tub in the
laundry. He lies very still. I think he is taking his
winter nap. WILLIE .

EAST ORANGE, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The town of East Orange is a
lovely place in summer. There are some lovely drives
around here. One day papa and I went for a drive, not
expecting to stay more than an hour, but the country
was so enchanting that we stayed nearly three hours.
Just lately they have run electric cars through East
Orange, from Orange proper to Newark, and we have
had two accidents already.
We get the best of marketing here, but have to pay








THE LETTER-BOX.


large prices. We have nice public schools, and just
lately they have finished a new high school. It is a
lovely brick building, three stories high. It has a clock
which keeps good time, and can be seen for some dis-
tance. I have been the whole length of the eastern coast,
in all the States along the coast, and have lived at An-
napolis, where my father was stationed, as he is in the
navy. I knew Dale S. B- and Katherine P- who
wrote letters to you that were printed some time ago.
I have taken you ever since January, 1888; and hoping
you will continue in your successful career,
I remain your friend, GERTRUDE.


GEORGETOWN, S. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have two donkeys, and my
uncle gave us a donkey-carriage and a double harness for
them. In the winter we live six miles from Georgetown
on a rice-plantation, and in the summer in Asheville,
N. C. There is a great deal on a rice-plantation to inter-
est any one who does not know about one. We ride our
donkeys a lot and go out deer-hunting on them. They
are the fastest I have ever seen. Father has a naphtha
launch thirty-five feet long, and he, my cousin, and I
went to St. Simon's Island, Ga., in it, to hunt deer, and
I got one. Will and I both have bicycles, and Jack has
a velocipede. We have goats, and have very nice times.
We all love to read ST. NICHOLAS.
Yours truly, ELLIOTT W. H- JR.


MY DOGGIE JIP."
FOUR little feet,
Twenty little toes,
A dear little mouth,
Under a cold black nose;
Two brown eyes,
That never miss the cats;
Two silky ears,
That listen for the rats;
A glossy little neck.
Under a collar bright;
A little yellow tail,
That is wagging day and night;
A. row of pearly teeth,
That never bite nor nip-
Oh, such a cunning fellow
Is my doggie Jip!
BY MILDRED C--.
(Nine.years old.)

COINS.
A COLLECTION of coins is probably the most instruct-
ing and historical of the many different kinds of collec-
tions which are in existence to-day.
Of course the principal factor in the value of coins is
the date which they bear. For instance, a large copper
cent bearing the date 1799 is valued at $50 if in fine con-
dition, whereas a cent coined during the previous year,
1798, is valued at but 50 cents. A great many people have
the impression that a cent of 1804 is the most valuable
of all the United States cents; but that is a mistake. The
cents coined in 1799 are much rarer, owing to the fact that
nearly all were redeemed in order to supply a deficiency
in 18oo.
A relative of mine once had a very valuable collection,
consisting of coins from all parts of the world. He had
all the United States cents and many other rare coins,
such as a horseshoe-shaped coin from Siam, and a coin
called the "widow's mite." He also possessed a Roman
coin called an as, which weighed about a pound.


957


The rarest coin in existence to-day, of course you all
know, is the American silver dollar bearing the date of
1804, one of which was sold for $Iooo.
There are many coins from New York, Vermont, and
Massachusetts. A cent credited to Somers Island and an
"Excelsior" New York cent are very rare.
Several coins from Massachusetts are rare, such as the
"pine-tree" shilling bearing the date of 1652; also the
"oak-tree" threepence, sixpence, and shilling. The "Com-
monwealth" cent is not so rare as the former coins, but
I would advise your readers to keep one if they have it.
"Washington" medals and cents are scarce and are
considered valuable.
Old English coins are scarce and have some queer
shapes. I have a few English coins, but they are not very
rare. I also have an old Roman coin with the head of
Antoninus on one side and the figure of a woman on the
other. It is made of brass, and was hammered round in-
stead of being made round by a die like the present coins.
Whena person who possesses a collection of coins shows
them to a visitor, both alike are pleased: the former is glad
to show them and the latter is generally inquisitive as to
their history.
There are probably over Ioo,ooo coin-collectors in the
United States alone to-day.
My collection already has a few rare coins, but some
day I hope to possess many more.
With the exception of a few of the rarer dates, I have
the entire collection of United States cents from 1793 to
the present date.
In future years, the coins which are in common use at
the present time will probably be very valuable, as the
coins of former years are now.
ALBERT R-.
(A Young Contributor.)


MAY'S LANDING, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for nearly
four years, and have enjoyed you ever so much.
My cousin and I have a rifle; we have great fun shoot-
ing at a mark.
We live on the top of a hill, from which our lawn slopes
down to the water. The part of the town in which we
live is called Sugar Hill; it is so called because dur-
ing the Revolutionary war American ships loaded with
sugar were chased by the British, and ran into our river
to escape them. The sugar was stored on this hill, and
afterward carted from here to Philadelphia. We bathe
and row every summer.
We remain your interested readers,
HELEN S. M- and JOHN McK. T- .


HELENA, MONT.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: So many children write about
their pets that I thought perhaps you would be interested
to hear about my magpie.
When I went to the ranch last summer, I had per-
mission to get all the pets I could take care of. A lady
gave me a young magpie. When I got him he was so
little that he could not stand up. I fed him bread and
milk from a teaspoon, and he ate just as if he had always
eaten out of teaspoons. I did not feed him very much
meat at first. Salt meat always kills them when they are.
young.
I named him "Tony," and used to say "Tony" over
and over again; and one day when I was saying it he said
it after me. After that he learned very quickly. The
way he learned new things to say was this: We would
all say the same thing to him every time we saw him for
several days. Then we would hear him in some quiet
place practising to himself. At first he could not speak








THE LETTER-BOX.


plainly, but after a week or so he would even imitate
the inflection of the voice, so you could tell who taught
him. He soon learned to say, "Good-by; come home
early." I 'm a good boy," Where 's the baby ?" and
he was beginning to learn to sing, "Pretty Polly Oliver,
will you be my own?" He knew just as well as any-
body when we were teaching him anything new. He
would stand still with his head on one side and listen as
long as you would say it over. He sneezed; and every
time anybody sneezed, he sneezed after so quickly that it
sounded like an echo. Every time any one teased him
or did anything he did not like, he would call "Grandma,
Grandma! and keep calling until grandma came and took
his part.
He used to sit on the fence and make a little cluck-
ing sound to the horses until he would drive them all
away, and then he was delighted.
When I used to go to meet papa, Tony would fly with
me and sit on top of" Lady" (papa's horse), and ride
home. He used to follow us all wherever we went over
the ranch.
Finally, he said the things he knew so plainly that
people used to ask if we had split his tongue; but we
had n't. He could laugh so that it sounded just like
a child, and strangers could not tell whether it was Tony
or one of us children.
I am sorry to say that he learned to make a noise that
sounded like quarreling. Sometimes, when we were
just as good as could be, mama would come out on the
porch and say, "Are you children having trouble?" and
then we would laugh at her and tell her it was Tony
quarreling by himself.
When the summer was over we moved back into town.
Tony's feelings were hurt because he had to be put in
a cage to carry him home. He kept calling Grandma !"
as he always did whenhe was in trouble, but she did not
come. When we did let him out, we put him in the cel-
lar, thinking we would let him get accustomed to his
new home, and some one opened the door and he flew
away. People at the ranch said he came back, but when


we went back the next spring, he had become so wild
that we could not tell him from the other magpies that
lived in the grove. LESLIE F--.
NICKERSON, KANS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you four years,
and greatly enjoy you. After I finish reading you I send
you to my cousin in Illinois. Hie likes you, too.
Nickerson has about two thousand inhabitants. The
machine-shops of the Santa Fd and the salt-plant are
located here. They pump the salt water up from the
ground, having first forced down fresh water. It is then
boiled in pans until the water evaporates and leaves the
salt in the bottom. The Arkansas River is about a mile
south of the town. Wishing you well, ST. NICK, I close.
From a friend and devoted reader,
M. EDITH E-

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: M. M. M., Ethel-
bert C., Leigh B., H. Lynne P., Margie S., Jessie M.
W., M. M., Agnes N., Lallah St. J., Mary F., Ruth S.,
Lottie B. C., R. E. S., Wm. S. W., Jr., Ethel A., Mar-
tha T., M. K. S., M. E. C. and H. W., Alice C., Harry
C., "Hollyhock," Friend T., E. L. B., Mabel and Mar-
garet C., Louise R. P., Reba H., "Dickie-boy" McC.,
James M., Miriam T., Mollie I. A., Edith, Grace H.,
Beatrice C., Allan D. C., R. H. E. and Win. H., Jr.,
Katie R. B., Clair G. I., Julia H. W., Laura V. G.,
Daisy N., Phyllis M., F. A. D., Josephine E. G. and
Leonora A. W., Hester A. H. and Ethel F. D., Ethel
L. D., E. G. F. and F. C., Carolyn E. B., Marie E. C.,
Bessie R., Wilder W., Frances H. McI., Florence F.,
M. F., Helen C. R., Two Guests," Johnnie H., Alice
K. R., Hope S., Alma B., Ella B. J., J. W. G., Helen
K., Grace S., Kittie," C. John H., Helen Q., Helen
G., Ethel C., Harold and Kathleen P., Minnie L. N.,
Helen and Gracie, F. D. D., J. P. S., Patrick L., A. N.
and B. A., Ralph H. S., Maye and Polly.


A WELCOME CORRECTION.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: By one of those mistakes that will now and then happen, the picture on page 730 of the
August ST. NICHOLAS is called a rib when it represents a leg. For though snakes run about on the ends of
their ribs, the very large species, pythons and the like, as well as a few of the smaller kinds, have hind legs, and
the picture shows one of the legs of the python whose skeleton stretches across the top of the page. The leg is
drawn of its full size, but the length of the python is nearly fourteen feet. These little legs are buried in the
body, all but their tips, and are of no use in locomotion, being merely hints that the very distant ancestors of our
snakes probably had legs large enough to be of some service.
A snake, however, gets on very well without legs, and can do most things that other animals do with them.
Here is what the great anatomist Sir Richard Owen says: "It is true that the serpent has no limbs, yet it can
outclimb the monkey, outswim the fish, outleap the jerboa, and, suddenly loosing the close coils of its crouching
spiral, it can spring into the air and seize the bird upon the wing." There is, perhaps, a little of poetic license
about this; but, after all, snakes are wonderful creatures.
By the way, no snake really dislocates its jaws in swallowing; nature does not resort to such awkward expe-
dients as that, but his jaws are so made that they stretch wide apart in front and swing upward and outward be-
hind, so that they are not in the way. Neither do snake-charmers trust to exhausting the venom of a snake, as that
would be quite too risky, but usually pull out the fangs, thinking thus to render the serpent harmless. Now,
just back of the large fangs are one, two, or perhaps half a dozen little fangs, buried in the gum and ready to move
forward and take the place of any fang that may be lost. All snake-charmers do not know this, and now and then
one pays the penalty of his ignorance with his life by letting a snake bite him after the little fangs have become
large ones.
There is a curious snake in Africa which uses its backbone for teeth. This snake is fond of eggs, and as snakes
have no lips, they cannot suck eggs,-popular superstition to the contrary notwithstanding,-but swallow them
whole; or, if the egg is large, break it in their mouths and lose the greater part of the contents. Now, this
particular snake has little points of bone, tipped like teeth with enamel, running down from the front part of
its backbone through the gullet, and when an egg reaches these little points it is cut through, the egg part swal-
lowed, and the shell rejected.
FREDERIC A. LUCAS.


958











THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Canterbury; finals, Winchester.
Cross-words: i. Callow. 2. Alkali. 3. Nation. 4. Tenrec. 5. Enough.
6. Ramble. 7. Breaks. 8. Unrest. 9. Retire. to. Yonder.
Pi. NOONS are. sunny, warm, and still,
A golden haze o'erhangs the hill;
Amber sunshine is on the floor
Just within the open door;
Still the crickets call and creak,
Never found, though long we seek,
Oft comes faint report of gun,
Busy flies buzz in the sun,
In September.
DOUBLE SQUARES. I. I. Acids. 2. Carat. 3. Irate. 4. Dater.
5. Stern. II. a. Alate. 2. Laver. 3. Avale. 4. Telic. Erect.
A NOTABLE DINNER. x. Hale. 2. Burns. 3. Dickens. 4. Hood.
5. Black. 6. Spencer. 7. Moore. 8. Holmes. 9. Cable. io. Swift.
ix. Pope. x2. Steele. 13. Longfellow. 14. Parkman. r5. Lamb.
16. Coleridge. 17. Shelley. 18. Hugo. 19. Cooper. 20. Byron.
2r. Bancroft. 22. Mock turtle. 23. Salmon. 24. Greens. 25. Green
peas. 26. Lamb. 27. Mint sauce. 28. Turkey. 29. Ham. 30. Pota-
toes. 31. Cabbage. 32. Beets. 33. Corn. 34. Carrots. 35. Toma-
toes. 36. Pickles. 37. Olives. 38. Pie. 39. Pears. 40. Peaches.
41. Cantelope. 42. Tea. 43. Coffee. 44. Lady-fingers.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA. A careless song, with a lit:ie nonsense
in it now and then, does not misbecome a monarch."
TRIPLE ACROSTIC. From I to 8, Hastings; 9 to 16, Blenheim;
17 to 24, Waterloo. From i to 9, hubbub; 2 to xo, appeal; 3 to 11,
scythe; 4 to 12, Titian; 5 to 13, Isaiah; 6 to 14, novice; 7 to 15,
Gemini; 8 to 16, schism; 9 to 17, barrow; o to T8, Louisa; ix to i9,
elicit; 12 to 2o, nature; r3 to 21, hamper; 14 to 22, enroll; 15 to
23, indigo; 16 to 24, merino.
DIAMOND. i. M. 2. Cab. 3. Cedar. 4. Madison. 5. Basle.
6. Roe. 7. N.
ZIGZAG. "The English Roscius." Cross-words: I. Tom. 2. tHe.
3. hoE. 4. bEt. 5. Nod. 6. aGo. 7. oiL. 8. fib. 9. Sac.
to. aHa. t. caR. 12. dOt. 13. Sad. 14. iCe. 15. el. x6. nUt.
17. Sum.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Tobacco.
WORD-BUILDING. I, is, sir, sire, shire, shrive, dervish, shivered,
shriveled.
HALF-SQUARES. I. I. Neorama. 2. Empire. 3. Opine. 4. Ring.
5. Are. 6. Me. 7. A. II. i. Plaudit. 2. Linnet. 3. Annie.
4. Unit 5. Dee. 6. Itq.7. T.
A STAIR PUZZLE. From I to ro, Michaelmas; Ia to 20, roast
goose. Cross-words: Me, its, Cato, Hiogo, aiming, exhibit, libelous,
monomania, allegretto, spectacular.


To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the zith 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 JULY NUMBER were received, before July 15th, from E. M. G.-Josephine Sherwood -
"The Peterkins"-Ida Carleton Thallon--" The McG.'s "-Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.-No Name, Watertown, N. Y.- Chester
B. Sumner--The Ashhurst Family--Ida and Alice--Blanche and Fred-" Guion Line and Acme Slate "- L. 0. E.--Paul Reese--
"Nearthebay "-Helen C. McCleary- Nina Wilcox-" Uncle Mung"- Maude E. Palmer.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 15th, from "Lily Maid of Astolat," 2 Gertrude Magher-
aty, i Minnie and Lizzie, i Maude A. Wilson, 6- Louise M. Peycke, I E. A. B., Norman W. Ryan, 2 "Lady Jane," 2 -
C. Chester, 2--Ruby Harrington, x Elise L. Kemp, i- M. B. and H. F., i- Charlotte Tull, i- Florence E. Terry, i- Dorothy
L. Carlisle, i- Lillian D., 2-" Only I," i Edward Raphel, 2-" Betsy Prig and Sairey Gamp," i Grace Isabel S., 2 Elaine S., 2-
Helen Patten, 5- Ethel Martin, 6- We Two," 2 --Nellie L. Howes, ao-- Clara W., i Hubert L. Bingay, it -No Name, Newark,
N. J., 2-Melville Hunnewell, 4-Geo. S. Seymour, 5-Gwendolen Reid, 7-Effie K. Talboys, 12-May G. Martin, 2-Daisy
Allen, 2- Portia Johnson, i-Aunt Louise, Edith, and Dannie, 3--Marguerite, Annie, and Emily, 4-"May and '79," 1o-Jas. R.
Sharp, 9- Rosalie Bloomingdale, 9-" We Girls," xo-"Jo and I," 0 Nellie M. Archer, 4-Jessie Chapman, 8-" The Misses
McG." -Margaret Eddy, 3- Harry and Mama, 7-Dora F. Hereford and Isabel Child, 7.
DOUBLE DIAMONDS. When these four words have been rightly transposed,
and written one below another, the initial letters will
I. ACRoss: I. In bombast. 2. Station. 3. Weeds. spell a white substance; and the finals, to discontinue;
4. A title of nobility. 5. To surround. 6. To hold a initials and finals connected, a beautiful flower.
session. 7. In bombast. DYCIE.


DOWNWARD: I. In bombast. 2. A tag. 3. House-
hold gods. 4. Idiocy. 5. An opinion. 6. To place.
7. In bombast.
II. ACROSS: I. In penury. 2. A vehicle. 3. Became
dull. 4. The ninth Mohammedan month. 5. Kingly.
6. A color. 7. In penury.
DOWNWARD: I. In penury. 2. To injure. 3. A
heavenly body. 4. A popinjay. 5. A kind of fortifica-
tion. 6. An East Indian plant. 7. In penury.
"D. I. AMOND."
ANAGRAM.
A FAMOUS American reformer:
GOOD MAN, RALLY! SIR, I WILL.

PI.
Ew wronc ehet hwit glod, equne crotebo,
Ew cwonr ehte wiht peplur otady;
Tub ew veale gink bremonev eht menire
Ot ware hwit shi grestman fo gary.
Eht slapme, evrab shnigkt fo hyt mingkod,
Elit koa steer, hyt scolerlouns gronst,
Rea flaygecrul gaspdrine thire slantem
Rof het equne heyt heav twaide os glon.

TRANSPOSITIONS.
I. TRANSPOSE pagan deities, and make firm. 2. Trans-
pose an ecstasy, and make the drink of the gods.
3. Transpose a public address, and make a large lake.
4. Transpose to twist out of shape, and make to involve.


A CUBE.
I


4 5 6


FROM I to 2, a seaport town of Japan; from 2 to 4, a
musical drama; from 4 to 7, the Arabic name for the
Supreme Being; from 7 to 6, a Spartan slave; from 6 to
3, a sharp, quick sound; from 3 to I, to strike together;
from 2 to 5, the rightful possessor; from 3 to 5, the white
of egg; from 5 to 7, to extend to.
The letters represented by the figures I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
and 7 will spell the name of a famous English artist who
died in October, 1765. CYRIL DEANE.
959







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


QUOTATION PUZZLE.
WHEN the names of the authors of the following
quotations have been rightly guessed and placed one
below another, the seven initial letters will spell a word
often heard nowadays:
x. 'T is not in mortals to command success,
But we '11- do more, Sempronius; we 'll deserve it.
2. 'T was the night before Christmas, when all through
the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
3. Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
As the best gem upon her zone.
4. The good are better made by ill,
As odors crushed are sweeter still.
5. When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame?
6. How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blessed!
7. Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night ;
A GEOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
MY primals and finals each name a city of France.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A small river of England. 2. A
city of Italy. 3. A city of France. 4. A river of
New England. 5. A city of Belgium. 6. A river of
France. 7. A small river of Spain. 8. A town of Russia.
9. A town of Italy. o1. A river of Egypt. II. A city
of England. "LITTLE ONE."

BROKEN LETTERS.
ALL the parts of the letters (in the inscription under
the bust) are present, although not rightly placed: thus,
when the parts of the letters in the first line are properly
placed, they will spell the word "Columbus." What do
the ten following lines spell ? J 5. c. B.


HALF SQUARE.

I. A FAMOUS Seminole. 2. Volcanic cinders. 3. A
resinous substance, used chiefly in making varnishes.
4. Periods. 5. A very combustible substance. 6. A
note of the musical scale. 7. In Florida.
ELDRED JUNGERICH.
TRIPLE ACROSTIC.

S 6 iI
5... .16 .... 51
2 7 12
3 8 13
4 9 14
5 1o 15
FROM I to 6, causes to gyrate; from 2 to 7, a charm;
from 3 to 8, the name of a volcano and also of a town in
Central America; from 4 to 9, a race; from 5 to Io, to
use; from 6 to II, an edible crustacean; from 7 to 12, a
garden vegetable; from 8 to 13, the surname of the man
whom Margaret Fuller married; from 9 to 14, a concep-
tion; from Io to 15, a name for the groundnut.
From I to 5, the name of an American general of the
Revolution; from 6 to io, hard; from I1 to 15, to aim.
From 6 to Io and from II to 15, when combined, will
spell a place made famous by the general'named by the
first row of letters. w. N. S.

COMBINATION PUZZLE,

*



*







:h..--i:F r-.s: I. The Scotch shepherd dog. 2. An
\rii: n ~ jding bird. 3. The largest game bird in
Eur.:. .:. 4. A quoit. 5. A solemn compact.
c. I.:. make amends for. 7. Something worn
a- i charm. 8. An American lake. 9.
One of the Muses.
When the twenty-five letters repre-
e nted by stars have been written one
after the other, what will they spell?
"JOB PEERYBINGLE."

A PENTAGON.


I. A LETTER. 2. Salt. 3. Com-
pact. 4. Greeted. 5. A solemn
form of supplication in the public
worship of various churches. 6.
Close. 7. Colored. G. F.


'iIS 1 '/?i R" -.' .I

THE ,' -v wsNo P.--S, -. NEW vO


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK


960




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