• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 An outdoor reception
 Polly Oliver's problem
 A Halloween frolic
 A young marsh hawk
 The triumph of art
 The white cave
 Inanimate things animated
 Twilight
 Uncle Jack's great run
 A giant in fragments
 The siren
 The geometrical giraffe
 Winter at the zoo
 General Dadley
 Jack Frost
 Jack Dilloway's scheme
 When she was three years old
 Our neighbor John
 From reveille to taps
 Mortar practice
 A year with Dolly
 Wintry cheer
 The greetings
 An ingenious trifle
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00262
 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: VID00262
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 1
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    An outdoor reception
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Polly Oliver's problem
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    A Halloween frolic
        Page 15
    A young marsh hawk
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The triumph of art
        Page 21
    The white cave
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    Inanimate things animated
        Page 31
    Twilight
        Page 32
    Uncle Jack's great run
        Page 32
        Page 33
    A giant in fragments
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The siren
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The geometrical giraffe
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Winter at the zoo
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    General Dadley
        Page 56
    Jack Frost
        Page 57
    Jack Dilloway's scheme
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    When she was three years old
        Page 63
    Our neighbor John
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    From reveille to taps
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Mortar practice
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    A year with Dolly
        Page 73
    Wintry cheer
        Page 74
    The greetings
        Page 75
    An ingenious trifle
        Page 76
    The letter-box
        Page 77
        Page 78
    The riddle-box
        Page 79
        Page 80
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text


































































AUTUMN.

ENGRAVED FOR ST. NICHOLAS, BY PERMISSION, FROM THE PAINTING BY MAUVE, IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK.


















ST. NICHOLAS.



VOL. XX. NOVEMBER, 1892. No. I.
Copyright, 1892, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.


AN OUTDOOR RECEPTION.

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

NEWBURYPORT, MASSACHUSETTS.
12th Month, I5th, 1891.
EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS : At thy suggestion, I have searched among my papers for some
thing not yet printed, and I venture to send these rhymes which were hastily penciled several
years ago during a sojourn amongthehills. In deciphering them, I have made some changes
and additions. Such as they are, the verses are at thy service, though they were intended only
for a small audience of young folk, fit and few. J. G. W.

/ N these green banks, where falls too soon
The shade of Autumn's afternoon,
The south wind blowing soft and sweet,
The water gliding at my feet,
The distant northern range uplit
By the slant sunshine over it,
With changes of the mountain mist
From tender blush to amethyst,
The valley's stretch of shade and gleam
Fair as in Mirza's Bagdad dream,
With glad young faces smiling near
And merry voices in my ear,
I sit, methinks, as Hafiz might
In Iran's Garden of Delight.
For Persian roses blushing red,
Aster and gentian bloom instead;
For Shiraz wine, this mountain air;
For feast, the blueberries which I share
With one who proffers with stained hands
Her gleanings from yon pasture lands,
Wild fruit that art and culture spoil,






AN OUTDOOR RECEPTION.


The harvest of an untilled soil;
And with her one whose tender eyes
Reflect the change of April skies,
Midway twixtt child and maiden yet,
Fresh as Spring's earliest violet;
And one whose look and voice and ways
Make where she goes idyllic days;
And one whose sweet, still countenance
Seems dreamful of a child's romance;
And others, welcome as are these,
Like and unlike, varieties
Of pearls on nature's chaplet strung,-
And all are fair, for all are young.
Gathered from seaside cities old,
From midland prairie, lake and wold,
From the great wheat-fields, which might feed
The hunger of a world at need,
In healthful change of rest and play
Their school-vacations glide away.
No critics these: they only see
An old and kindly friend in me,
In whose amused, indulgent look
Their innocent mirth has no rebuke;
And, finding midst my rugged rhymes
Set to harsh notes of evil times,
And graver themes on minor keys
Of life's and death's solemnities,
Some lighter, happier strains more fit
To move the heart than sadden it,-
Hints of the boyhood of the man,
Youth viewed from life's meridian,-
Half seriously and half in play,
My pleasant interviewers pay
Their visit in the simplest way.
As yonder solitary pine
Is ringed below with flower and vine,
More favored than that lonely tree,
The bloom of girlhood circles me.
In such an atmosphere of youth
I half forget my age's truth;
The shadow of my life's long date
Runs backward on the dial-plate,
Until it seems a step might span
The gulf between the boy and man.

My young friends smile, as if some jay
On bleak December's leafless spray
Essayed to sing the songs of May.
Well, let them smile, and live to know,
When their brown locks are flecked with snow,


[Nov.






AN OUTDOOR RECEPTION.


'T is tedious to be always sage
And pose the dignity of age,
While so much of our early lives
On memory's playground still survives,
And owns, as at the present hour,
The spell of youth's magnetic power.
But though I feel, with Solomon,
'T is pleasant to behold the sun,
I would not if I could repeat
A life which still is good and sweet;
I keep in age, as in my prime,
A not uncheerful step with time,
And, grateful for all blessings sent,
I go the common way, content
To make no new experiment.
On easy terms with law and fate,
For what must be I calmly wait,
And trust the path I cannot see,-
That God is good sufficeth me.
And when at last upon life's play
The curtain falls, I only pray
That hope may lose itself in truth,
And age in Heaven's immortal youth,
And all our loves and longing prove
The foretaste of diviner love!

The day is done. Its afterglow
Along the west is burning slow.
My visitors, like birds, have flown;
I hear their voices, fainter grown,
And dimly through the dusk I see
Their 'kerchiefs wave good night to me,-
Light hearts of girlhood, knowing nought
Of all the cheer their coming brought;
And, in their going, unaware
Of silent-following feet of prayer:
Heaven make their budding promise good
With flowers of gracious womanhood!


1892.]










POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.

By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN.
Authorof The Birds' Christmas Carol," A Summerin a Cailon," etc.


Y"':7

ei~


Pretty Polly Oliver, my hope and my fear,
Pretty Polly Oliver, I 've loved you so dear!
Dinah Maria Mulock.

CHAPTER I.
A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.
"I HAVE only determined one thing defin-
itely," said Polly Oliver; and that is, the


boarders must go. Oh, how charming that
sounds! I 've been thinking it ever since I
was old enough to think, but I never cast it
in such an attractive, decisive form before.
'The Boarders Must Go !' It 's every bit
as inspiring as 'The Chinese Must Go.' If I
were n't obliged to set the boarders' table I 'd
work this minute the motto on a banner and






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


march up and down the plaza with it, followed
by a crowd of small boys with toy drums."
The Chinese never did go," said Mrs.
Oliver, suggestively, from the sofa.
Oh! that 's nothing; they had a treaty or
something, and besides, there are so many of
them, and they have such an object in staying."
"You can't turn people out of the house on
a moment's warning."
Certainly not. Give them twenty-four
hours if necessary. We can choose among
several methods of getting rid of them. I can
put up a placard with

'BOARDERS, HO!'
printed on it in large letters, and then assem-
ble them in the banquet-hall and make them
a speech."
You would insult them," objected Mrs.
Oliver feebly, and they are perfectly in-
nocent."
Insult them ? Oh! Mama, how unworthy
of you! I shall speak to them firmly but very
gently. Ladies and Gentlemen,' I shall be-
gin, 'you have done your best to make pal-
atable the class of human beings to which you
belong, but you have utterly failed and you
must go! Board, if you must, ladies and gen-
tlemen, but not here! Sap, if you must, the
foundations of somebody else's private para-
dise, but not ours. In the words of the Poe-et,
Take thy beaks from off our door.' Then
it will be over and they will go out."
Slink out, I should say," murmured Polly's
mother.
Very well, slink out," replied Polly cheer-
fully. "I should like to see them slink, after
they 've been rearing their crested heads
round our table for generations; but I think
you credit them with a sensitiveness they do not,
and in the nature of things cannot, possess.
There is something in the unnatural life which
hardens both the boarder and those who board
her. However, I don't insist on that method.
Let 's try bloodless eviction,-put them quietly
out in the street with their trunks; or strat-
egy,-put one of them in bed and hang out
the smallpox flag-Oh! I can get them out
in a week if I once set my mind on it."
No doubt of that," said Mrs. Oliver, meekly.


Polly's brain continued to teem with sinister
ideas.
"I shall make Mr. Talbot's bed so that the
clothes will come off at the foot every night.
He will remonstrate. I shall tell him that his
conscience troubles him, or he would never be
so restless. He will glare. I shall promise to
do better, yet the clothes will come off worse
and worse, and at last, perfectly disheartened,
he will go. I shall tell Mr. Greenwood at the
breakfast-table, what I have been longing for
months to tell him, that we can hear him snore
distinctly through the partition. He will go.
I shall put cold milk in Mrs. Caldwell's coffee
every morning. I shall mean well, you know,
but I shall forget. She will know that I mean
well, and that it is only forgetfulness, but she
will not endure it very long; she will go. And
so, by the exercise of a little ingenuity, they
will depart one by one, remarking that Mrs.
Oliver's boarding-house is not what it used to
be; that Pauline is getting a little slack.' "
Polly! and Mrs. Oliver half rose from the
sofa, I will not have you call this a boarding-
house in that tone of voice."
A boarding-house, as I take it," argued
Polly, is a house where boarders are taken
in and done for.'"
But we have always prided ourselves on
having it exactly like a family," said her mo-
ther, plaintively. You know we have not
omitted a single refinement of the daintiest
home-life, no matter at what cost of labor and
thought."
"Certainly, that 's the point,-and there you
are a sofa-invalid, and here I am with my dis-
position ruined for life; such a wreck in temper
that I could blow up the boarders with dyna-
mite and sleep peacefully after it."
Now be reasonable, little daughter. Think
how kind and grateful the boarders have been
(at least almost always), how appreciative of
everything we have done for them."
Of course, it is n't every day they get an-
an-elderly Juno like you to carve meat for
them, or a-well, just for the sake of com-
pleting the figure of speech-a blooming Hebe
like me (I 've always wondered why it was n't
S/ebe!) to dispense their tea and coffee; to
say nothing of broma for Mrs. Talbot, Phillips's






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


cocoa for Mr. Greenwood, cambric tea for
Mrs. Hastings, and hot water for the Darlings.
I have to keep a schedule, and refer to it three
times a day. That alone shows that it is n't
my vocation."
A bit of conversation gives the clue to char-
acter so easily that Mrs. Oliver and her daugh-
ter need little more description. You can see
the pretty, fragile mother resting among her
pillows, and I need only tell you that her dress
is always black, her smile patient, her eyes full
of peace, and her hands never idle save in this
one daily resting-hour prescribed by the de-
termined Miss Polly, who mounts guard dur-
ing the appointed time like a jailer who expects
his prisoner to escape if he removes his eagle
eye for an instant.
The aforesaid impetuous Miss Polly has also
told you something of herself in this brief in-
terview. She is evidently a person who feels
matters rather strongly, and who is wont to
state them in the strongest terms she knows.
Every word she utters shows you that, young
as she looks, she is the real head of the family,
and that her vigorous independence of thought
and speech must be the result of more care
and responsibility than ordinarily fall to the
lot of a girl of sixteen.
Certain of her remarks must be taken with a
grain of salt. Her assertion of willingness to
blow up innocent boarders in their beds would
seem, for instance, to indicate a vixenish and
vindictive sort of temper quite unwarranted by
the circumstances; but a glance at the girl her-
self contradicts the thought.
Item: A firm chin. She will take her own
way if she can possibly get it; but item: a
sweet, lovable mouth framed in dimples; a
mouth that breaks into smiles at the slightest
provocation, no matter how dreary the out-
look; a mouth that quivers at the first tender
word, and so the best of all correctives to the
determined little chin below.
Item: A distinctly saucy nose. An aggres-
sive, impertinent, spirited little nose, with a few
freckles on it; a nose that probably leads its
possessor into trouble occasionally.
Item: Two bright eyes, a trifle over-proud
and wilful perhaps, but candid and full of
laughter.


Item: A head of brilliant, auburn hair;
lively, independent, frisky hair, each glittering
thread standing out by itself and asserting its
own individuality; tempestuous hair that never
"stays put"; wilful hair that escapes hairpins
and comes down unexpectedly; hoydenish hair
that makes the meekest hats look daring.
For the rest, a firm, round figure, no angles,
everything, including elbows, in curves; bloom-
ing cheeks and smooth-skinned, taper-fingered
hands tanned a very honest brown-the hands
of a person who loves beauty.
Polly Oliver's love of beautiful things was a
passion, and one that had little gratification;
but luckily, though beautiful music, pictures,
china, furniture, and "purple and fine linen"
were all conspicuous by their absence, she
could feast without money and without price
on the changeful loveliness of the Santa Bar-
bara Mountains, the sapphire tints of the placid
Pacific, and the gorgeous splendor of the Cali-
fornian wild flowers; and so her sense of beauty
never starved.
Her hand was visible in the little sitting-
room where she now sat with her mother; for
it was pretty and homelike, although its simple
decorations and furnishings had been brought
together little by little during a period of two
years; so that the first instalments were all
worn out (Polly was wont to remark plain-
tively) before the last additions made their
appearance.
The straw matting had Japanese figures on
it, while a number of rugs covered the worn
places and gave it an opulent look. The
table-covers, full curtains, and portieres were
of blue jean worked in outline embroidery, and
Mrs. Oliver's couch had as many pillows as
that of an Oriental princess; for Polly's sum-
mers were spent camping in a caion, and she
embroidered sofa-cushions and draperies with
frenzy during these weeks of out-of-door life.
Upon the cottage piano was a blue Canton
ginger-jar filled with branches of feathery bam-
boo that spread its lace-like foliage far and wide
over the ceiling and walls, quite covering the
large spot where the roof had leaked. Various
stalks of tropical-looking palms, distributed ar-
tistically about, concealed the gaping wounds
in the walls, inflicted by the Benton children,






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


who had once occupied this same apartment.
Mexican water-jars, bearing peacock-feathers,
screened Mr. Benton's two favorite places for
scratching matches. The lounge was the sort
of lounge that looks well only between two
windows, but Polly was obliged to place it
across the corner where she really wanted the
table, because in that position it shielded from
the public view the enormous black spots made










S- .-\











o ,








i y
POLLY AS WAITRESS.
on the wall where Reginald Benton flung the
ink-bottle at his angel sister Pansy Belle.
Then there was an umbrella-lamp, bestowed
by a boarder whom Mrs. Oliver had nursed
through typhoid fever; a banjo; plenty of
books and magazines, and an open fireplace
with a great pitcher of yellow wild flowers
standing between the old-fashioned brass and-
irons.
Little Miss Oliver's attitude on the question


of the boarders must stand quite without justi-
fication.
"It is a part of Polly," sighed her mother,
"and must be borne with Christian fortitude."
Colonel Oliver had never fully recovered
from a wound received in the last battle of
the civil war, and when he was laid in a little
New England churchyard, so much of Mrs.
Oliver's heart was buried with him that she
could scarcely take up the burden of life with
any sort of courage. At last her delicate
health prompted her to take the baby daugh-
ter, born after her husband's death, and go to
southern California, where she invested her
tiny property in a house in Santa Barbara.
She could not add to her income by any oc-
cupation that kept her away from the baby;
so the boarders followed as a matter of course
(a house being suitable neither for food nor
clothing), and a constantly changing family of
pleasant people helped her to make both ends
meet, and to educate the little daughter as she
grew from babyhood into childhood.
Now, as Polly had grown up among the
boarders, most of whom petted her, no one can
account for her slightly ungrateful reception of
their good will; but it is certain that the first
time she was old enough to be trusted at the
table, she grew very red in the face, slipped
down from her high chair, and took her bowl
of bread and milk on to the porch. She was
followed and gently reasoned with, but her
only explanation was that she did n't yike to
eat wiv so many peoples." Persuasion bore
no fruit, and for a long time Miss Polly ate
in solitary grandeur. Indeed, the feeling in-
creased rather than diminished, until the child
grew old enough to realize her mother's bur-
den, when with passionate and protecting love
she put her strong young shoulders under the
load and lifted her share, never so very pret-
tily and gracefully (it 's no use trying to paint
a halo round Polly's head), but with a proud
courage and a sort of desperate resolve to be as
good as she could,- which was not very good,
she would have told you.
She would come back from the beautiful
home of her friend, Bell Winship, and look
about on her own surroundings, never with
scorn or sense of bitterness, she was too sensi-


x892.]






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


ble and sweet-natured for that, but with an
inward rebellion against the existing state of
things, and a secret determination to create a
better one, if God would only give her power
and opportunity. But this pent-up feeling only
showed itself to her mother in bursts of impul-
sive nonsense at which Mrs. Oliver first laughed
and then sighed a little.
"Oh! for a little, little breakfast-table!"
Polly would say, as she flung herself on her
mother's couch, and punched the pillows des-
perately. A father to say 'Steak, Polly dear?'
instead of my asking, Steakorchops ?' over
and over every morning; a lovely, grown-up,
black-haired sister, who would have hundreds
of lovers, and let me stay in the room when
they called; a little baby brother, fat and
dimpled, who would crow and spill milk on
the table-cloth, and let me sit on the floor and
pick up the things he threw down! But in-
stead of that, a new, big, strange family,- dif-
ferent people every six months, people who
don't like each other, and have to be seated at
opposite ends of the table; ladies whose lips
tremble with disappointment if they don't get
the second joint of the chicken, and gentlemen
who are sulky if any one else gets the liver.
Oh! Mama, I am sixteen now, and it will
soon be time for me to begin taking care of
you; but, I warn you, I shall never do it by
means of the boarders! "
Are you so weak and proud, little daugh-
ter, as to be ashamed because I have taken
care of you these sixteen years by means of
the boarders,' as you say ?"
"No, no, Mama! Don't think so badly
of me as that. That feeling was outgrown
long ago. Don't I know that it is just as fine
and honorable as anything else in the world,
and don't I love and honor you with all my
heart because you do it in so sweet and dig-
nified a way that everybody respects you for
it? But it is n't my vocation. I would like
to do something different, something wider,
something lovelier, if I knew how, and were
ever good enough! "
It is easy to dream noble things,' dear,
but hard to do them all day long.' My own
feeling is that if one attains the results one is
struggling for, and does one's work as well as


it lies in one to do it, that keeping boarders is
as good service as any other bit of the world's
work. One is not always permitted to choose
the beautiful or glorious service. Sometimes
all one can do is to make the humble action
fine by doing it as it is done in heaven.' Re-
member, 'they also serve who only stand and
wait.'"
"Yes, Mama," said Polly, meekly; "but"
(stretching out her young arms hopefully and
longingly), it must be that they also serve who
stand and dare, and I 'm going to try that first;
-then I '11 wait if God wants me to."
"What if God wants you to wait first, little
daughter ?"
Polly hid her face in the sofa-cushions and
did not answer.
CHAPTER II.
FORECASTING THE FUTURE.
Two of Mrs. Oliver's sitting-room windows
looked out on the fig-trees, and the third on a
cozy piazza-corner framed in passion-vines,
where at the present moment stood a round
table holding a crystal bowl of Gold of Ophir
roses, a brown leather portfolio, and a dish of
apricots. Against the table leaned an old Span-
ish guitar with a yellow ribbon round the neck,
and across the corner hung a gorgeous ham-
mock of Persian colored threads, with two or
three pillows of canary-colored China silk in
one end. A bamboo lounging-chair and a
Shaker rocker completed the picture; and the
passer-by could generally see Miss Anita Fer-
guson reclining in the one, and a young (but
not wise) man from the East in the other. It
was not always the same young man any more
than the decorations were always of the same
color.
"That's another of my troubles," said Polly
to her friend Margery Noble, pulling up the
window-shade one afternoon and pointing to
the now empty "cozy corner." I don't mind
Miss Ferguson's sitting there, though it used
always to be screened off for my doll-house, and
I love it dearly; but she pays to sit there, and
she ought to do it; besides, she looks prettier
there than any one else. Is n't it lovely ? The
other day she had pink oleanders in the bowl,
the cushions turned pink side up (you see they






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


are canary and rose-color), a pink cambric dress,
and the guitar trimmed with a fringe of narrow
pink ribbons. She was a dream, Margery!
But she does n't sit there with her young men
when I am at school, nor when I am helping
Ah Foy in the dining-room, nor, of course,
when we are eating our meals. She sits there
from four to six in the afternoon and after sup-
per, the only times I have with mama in this
room. We have to keep the window closed,
lest we should overhear the conversation. That
is tiresome enough in warm weather. You see
the other windows are shaded by the fig-trees, so
here we sit, in Egyptian darkness, mama and I,
during most of the pleasant afternoons. And if
anything ever came of it we would n't mind, but
nothing ever does. There have been so many
young men,-I could n't begin to count them,
but they have worn out the seats of four chairs,
-and why does n't one of them take her away?
Then we could have a nice, homely young lady
who would sit quietly on the front steps with
the old people, and who would n't want me to
carry messages for her three times a day."
At the present moment, however, Miss Anita
: Ferguson (clad in a black habit, with a white
Rose in her button-hole, and a neat black derby
With a scarf of white cripe de chine wound about
it) had gone on the Mesa for a horseback ride,
so Polly and Margery had borrowed the cozy
corner for a chat.
Margery was crocheting a baby's afghan, and
SPolly was almost obscured by a rumpled yellow
Stress which lay in her lap.
You observe my favorite yellow gown ? "
she asked.
"Yes, what have you done to it? "
Gin Sing picked blackberries in the colan-
der. I, supposing the said colander to be a pan
With the usual bottom, took it in my lap and
Held it for an hour while I sorted the berries.
Result: a hideous stain a foot and a half in
': diameter. Mr. Greenwood suggested oxalic
acid. I applied it and removed both the stain
Sand the dress in the following complete man-
ner "; and Polly put her brilliant head through
an immense circular hole in the front breadth
of the skirt.
It 's hopeless, is n't it ?-for, of course, a
patch won't look well," said Margery.


"Hopeless ? Not a bit. You see this pretty
yellow-and-white-striped lawn ? I have made
this long, narrow apron of it, and ruffled it all
round. I pin it to my waist thus, and the hole
is covered. But still it looks like an apron, and
how do I contrive to throw the public off the
scent? I add a yoke and sash of the striped
lawn, and people see simply a combination-
dress. I do the designing and my beloved little
mother there will do the sewing; forgetting her
precious Polly's carelessness in making the hole,
and remembering only her cleverness in cover-
ing it."
Capital! said Margery; it will be prettier
than ever. Oh, dear that dress was new when
we had our last lovely summer in the cafion.
Shall we ever go again, all together, I wonder?
Just think how we are all scattered. The Win-
ships traveling in Europe (I '11 read you Bell's
last letter by and by); Geoffrey Strong studying
at Leipsic; Jack Howard at Harvard, with
Elsie and her mother watching over him at
Cambridge; Philip and I on the ranch as usual,
and you here. We 're so scattered that it
does n't seem possible that we can ever have
a complete reunion, does it?"
"No," said Polly, looking dreamily at the
humming-birds hovering over the honeysuckle;
"and if we should, everything would be differ-
ent. Bless dear old Bell's heart! What a good
time she must be having; I wonder what she
will do."
"Do ?" echoed Margery.
"Yes; it always seemed to me that Bell Win-
ship would do something in the world; that she
would never go along placidly like other girls,
she has so many talents."
"Yes; but so long as they have plenty of
money, Dr. and Mrs. Winship would probably
never encourage her in doing anything."
It would be all the better if she could do
something because she loved it, and with no
thought of earning a living by it. Is n't it odd
that I who most need the talents should have
fewer than any one of our dear little group ?
Bell can write, sing, dance, or do anything else
in fact; Elsie can play like an angel; you can
draw; but it seems to me I can do nothing
well enough to earn money by it; and that 's
what I must do."






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


"You 've never had any special instruction,
Polly, dear, else you could sing as well as Bell,
or play as well as Elsie."
"Well, I must soon decide. Mama says next
summer, when I am seventeen, she will try to
spend a year in San Francisco and let me study
regularly for some profession. The question is,
what?-or whether to do something without
study. I read in a magazine the other day that
there are now three hundred (or three thousand,
I can't remember which) vocations open to
women. If it were even three hundred I could
certainly choose one to my liking, and there
would be two hundred and ninety-nine left over
for the other girls. Mrs. Weeks is trying to raise
silkworms. That would be rather nice, because
the worms would be silent partners in the busi-
ness and do most of the work."
But you want something without any risks,
you know," said Margery sagely. You would
have to buy ground for the silkworms, and
plant the mulberries, and then a swarm of hor-
rid insects might happen along and devour the
plants before the worms began spinning."
"'Competition is the life of trade,'" said
Polly. "No, that is n't what I mean-' Nothing
venture, nothing have,' that 's it. Then how
would hens do? Ever so many women raise
hens."
"Hens have diseases, and they never lay
very well when you have to sell the eggs. By
the way, Clarence Jones, who sings in the
choir,-you know the man with the pink
cheeks and corn-silk hair,- advertises in the
Daily Press for a 'live partner.' Now, there 's
a chance on an established hen-ranch, if he
does n't demand capital or experience."
It's a better chance for Miss Ferguson.
But she does n't like Mr. Jones, because when
he comes to call his coat-pockets are always
bulging with tin cans of a hen-food that he has
just invented. The other evening, when he
came to see her, she was out, and he handed me
his card. It had a picture and advertisement
of'The Royal Dish-faced Berkshire Pig' on it;
and I 'm sure, by her expression when she saw
it, that she will never be his 'live partner.' No,
I don't think I '11 have an out-of-door occupa-
tion, it 's so trying to the complexion. Now,
how about millinery ? I could be an apprentice,


and gradually rise until I imported everything
direct from Paris".
"But, Polly," objected Margery, "you know
you never could tie a bow, nor even put a
ribbon on your sailor hat."
"But I could learn. Do you suppose all the
milliners were called to their work by a con-
sciousness of genius? Perish the thought! If
that were true there would n't be so many
hideous hats in the shop windows. However,
I don't pine for millinery; it's always a strug-
gle for me to wear a hat myself."
"You 've done beautifully the last year or
two, dear, and you 've reaped the reward of
virtue, for you 've scarcely a freckle left."
Oh, that is n't hats," rejoined Polly, "that's
the law of compensation. When I was younger,
and did n't take the boarders so much to heart,
I had freckles given to me for a cross; but the
moment I grew old enough to see the boarders
in their true light and note their effect on
mama, the freckles disappeared. Now, here 's
an idea. I might make a freckle lotion for
a living. Let me see what I 've been ad-
vised by elderly ladies to use in past years:
ammonia, lemon-juice, cucumbers, morning-
dew, milk, pork rinds, kerosene, and a few other
household remedies. Of course I 'm not sure
which did the work, but why could n't I mix
them all in equal parts,-if they would mix, you
know, and let those stay out that would n't,-
and call it the 'Olivera Complexion Lotion'?
The trade-mark could be a cucumber, a lemon,
and a morning dewdrop, rampant, and a fright-
ened little brown spot couchant. Then on the
neat label pasted on the bottles above the
trade-mark there could be a picture of a
spotted girl,-that 's Miss Oliver before using
her lotion,-and a copy of my last photo-
graph,-that's Miss Oliver radiant in beauty
after using her lotion."
Margery laughed, as she generally did at
Polly's nonsense.
That sounds very attractive, but if you are
anxious for an elegant and dignified occupation
which shall restore your mother to her ancestral
position, it certainly has its defects."
"I know every thing has its defects, every
thing except one, and I won't believe that has
a single weak point."






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


"Oh, Polly, you deceiver! You have a secret
leaning toward some particular thing after all!"
Yes; though I have n't talked it over fully
yet, even with mama lest she should think it
one of my wild schemes; but Margery, I want
with all my heart to be a kindergartner like
Miss Mary Denison. I run in and stay half
an hour with her whenever I can, and help the
little children with their sewing or weaving, and
I always study and work better myself after-
ward-I don't know whether it's the children,
or Miss Denison, or the place, or all three.
And the other day, when I was excused from
my examinations, I stayed the whole morning
in the kindergarten. When it was time for the
games, and they were all on the circle, they
began with a quiet little play they call 'Silent
Greeting,' and oh! Margery, they chose me to
come in, of their own accord! When I walked
into the circle to greet that smallest Walker
baby my heart beat like a trip-hammer, I was
so afraid I should do something wrong, and
they would never ask me in again. Then we
played 'The Hen and Chickens,' and after-
ward something about the birds in the green-
wood'; and one of the birds flew to me (I was
a tree, you know, a whispering elm tree), and
built its nest in my branches, and then I
smoothed its feathers and sang to it as the
others had done, and it was like heaven! After
the play was over, we modeled clay birds; and
just as we were making the tables tidy, Pro-
fessor Hohlweg came in and asked Miss Deni-
son to come into the large hall to play for the
marching, as the music-teacher was absent.
Then what did Miss Denison do but turn to
me and say, Miss Oliver, you get on so nicely
with the children, would you mind telling them
some little story for me ? I shall be gone only
ten or fifteen minutes.' Oh! Margery, it was
awful! I was more frightened than when
I was asked to come into the circle; but the
children clapped their hands and cried, 'Yes!
yes! tell us a story!' I could only think of
'The Hen that Hatched Ducks,' but I sat
down and began, and, as I talked, I took my
little clay bird and molded it into a hen, so
that they would look at me whether they lis-
tened or not. Of course, one of the big seven-
year-old boys began to whisper and be rest-


less, but I handed him a large lump of clay
and asked him to make a nest and some eggs
for my hen, and that soon absorbed his atten-
tion. They listened so nicely-you could n't
believe how nicely they listened! When I fin-
ished I looked at the clock. It had been nine
minutes, and I could n't think what to do the
other dreadful minutes till Miss Denison should
come back. At last my eye fell on the black-
board, and that gave me an idea. I drew a
hen's beak and then a duck's-a hen's foot
and then a duck's, to show them the difference.
Just then Miss Denison came in softly, and I
confess I was bursting with pride and delight.
There was the blackboard with the sketches
(not very good ones, it is true), the clay hen,
and nest, and eggs, and all the children sitting
quietly in their little red chairs. And Miss
Denison said, How charming of you to carry
out the idea of the morning so nicely! My
dear little girl, you were made for this sort of
thing, did you know it?"
"Well, I should n't think you had patience
enough for any sort of teaching," said Margery,
candidly.
Neither did I suppose so myself, and I
have n't any patience to spare,-that is, for
boarders, or dishes, or beds; but I love chil-
dren so dearly that they never try my patience
as other things do."
You have had the play side of the kinder-
garten, Polly, while Miss Denison had the care.
There must be a work-a-day side to it; I 'm sure
Miss Denison very often looks tired to death."
Of course! cried Polly. I know it's hard
work; but who cares whether a thing is hard or
not, if one loves it ? I don't mind work I only
mind working at something I dislike and can
never learn to like. Why, Margery, at the Sun-
day-school picnics you go off in the broiling sun
and sit on a camp-chair and sketch, while I play
Fox and Geese with the children, and each of us
pities the other and thinks she must be dying
with heat. It 's just the difference between us!
You carry your easel and stool and paint-boxes
and umbrella up the steepest hill, and never mind
if your back aches; I bend over Miss Deni-
son's children with their drawing or building,
and never think of my back-ache--do you
see ?"






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


"Yes; but I always keep up my spirits by
thinking that though I may be tired and dis-
couraged, it is worth while because it is Art I
am working at; and for the sake of being an
artist I ought to be willing to endure anything.
You would n't have that feeling to inspire and
help you."
I should like to know why I would n't," ex-
claimed Polly, with flashing eyes. "I should
like to know why kindergarten-teaching may
not be an art. I confess I don't know exactly
what an artist is, or rather what the dictionary
definition of art is; but sit down in Miss Burke's
room at the college; you can't stay there half an
hour without thinking that, rather than have her
teach you anything, you would be an ignorant
little cannibal on a desert island She does n't
know how, and there is nothing beautiful about
it. But look at Miss Denison When she comes
into her kindergarten it is like the sunrise, and
she makes everything blossom that she touches.
It is all so simple and sweet that it seems as if
anybody could do it; but when you try it you
find that it is quite different. Whether she plays
or sings or talks or works with the children, it is
perfect. It all seems so easy when you do it,'
I said to her yesterday, and she pointed to the
quotation for the day in her calendar. It was
a sentence from George MacDonald: 'Ease is
the lovely result of forgotten toil.' Now it
may be that Miss Mary Denison is only an
angel; but I think that she 's an artist."
"On second thoughts, perhaps you are right
in your meaning of the word, though it does n't
follow that all kindergartners are artists."
No; nor that all the painters are," retorted
Polly. "Think of that poor Miss Thomas in
your outdoor class. Last week, when you
were sketching the cow in front of the old barn,
I sat behind her for half an hour. Her barn
grew softer and softer and her cow harder and
harder, till when she finished the barn looked
as if it were molded in jelly and the cow as if
it were carved in red sandstone."
She ought not to be allowed to paint," said
Margery, decisively.
"Of course she oughtn't! That's just what I


say; and I ought not to be allowed to keep
boarders, and I won't! "
I must say you have wonderful courage,
Polly. It seems so natural and easy for you
to strike out for yourself in a new line that it
must be you feel a sense of power and that you
will be successful."
Polly's manner changed abruptly as she
glanced in at her mother's empty chair before
she replied.
Courage Sometimes I think I have n't a
morsel. I am a gilded sham. My knees trem-
ble whenever I think of my future 'career,' as I
call it. Mama thinks me filled with a burning
desire for a wider sphere of action, and so I am,
but chiefly for her sake. Courage? There's no-
thing like having a blessed tired little mother
to take care of- a mother whom you want to
snatch from the jaws of a horrible fate. That's
a trifle strong, but it 's dramatic! You see,
Margery, a woman like my mother is not going
to remain forever in her present rank in her
profession-she is too superior; she is bound
to rise. Now, what would become of her if
she rose ? Why, first, she would keep a country
hotel, and sit on the front piazza in a red rocker,
and chat with the commercial travelers; and
then she would become the head of a summer
resort, with a billiard-room and a bowling-alley.
I must be self-supporting, and I will never de-
sert Mr. Micawber,' so I shall make beds and
dust in Hotel Number One, and in Hotel
Number Two entertain the guests with my
music and my 'sprightly manners'-that 's
what Mr. Greenwood calls them! Finally I
should marry the ninepin-man or the head clerk,
so as to consolidate the management and save
salaries-and there would end the annals of
the Olivers! No, Margery!" cried Polly, wav-
ing the shears in the air, everybody is down
on the beach, and I can make the welkin ring if
I like, so hear me:
"The boarders must go !-How, when, and
where they shall go are three problems I have n't
yet solved; and what I shall find to take the
place of them when they do go is a fourth prob-
lem, and the knottiest one of all "


(To be continued.)













A HALLOW-E'EN FROLIC.

BY HELEN GRAY CONE.


vI ;A


A LITTLE witch in steeple hat
Once tried a merry spell,
To make the hares come pit-a-pat
From dingle and from dell.

And pit-a-pat, beneath the moon,
The shy hares peeping came;
The little witch in buckled shoon,
She called them each by name.


"Come, Fairy-foot' and Sparkle-eyes'!
Come, 'Fine-ear,' 'Bob,' and 'Bun'!"
They gathered round in mild surprise,
But glad of any fun.

And when she told them what she willed,
They stamped and leaped in glee,
And all their velvet noses thrilled
With laughter strange to see.


What was the prank, do you suppose,
And what the merry spell ? -
The sleepy owlet only knows,
And she would never tell!















.1 ~ *


6/'~F~

*.c' "'r.


. ..i
''I -* ...:-. (-' By JOHN BURROUGHS.
B V.;-~


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* *, -;'~&~
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L-



MOST country boys, I fancy, know the marsh-
hawk. It is he you see flying low over the
fields, beating about bushes and marshes and
dipping over the fences, with his attention di-
rected to the ground beneath him. He is a cat
on wings. He keeps so low that the birds and
mice do not see him till he is fairly upon them.
The hen-hawk swoops down upon the meadow-
mouse from his position high in air, or from the
top of a dead tree; but the marsh-hawk stalks
him and comes suddenly upon him from over
the fence, or from behind a low bush or tuft of
grass. He is nearly as large as the hen-hawk,
but has a much longer tail. When I was a
boy I used to call him the long-tailed hawk.
The male is a bluish slate-color; the female a
reddish brown like the hen-hawk, with a white
rump.
Unlike the other hawks, they nest on the
ground in low, thick marshy places. For sev-
eral seasons a pair have nested in a bushy marsh
a few miles back of me, near the house of a
farmer friend of mine, who has a keen eye for


the wild life about him. Two years ago
-'. he found the nest, but when I got over
C-'! to see it the next week, it had been
-'- robbed, probably by some boys in the
neighborhood. The past season, in
April or May, by watching the mother bird,
lie found the nest again. It was in a marshy
place, several acres in extent, in the bottom
of a valley, and thickly grown with hardhack,
prickly-ash, smilax, and other low thorny bushes.
My friend brought me to the brink of a low
hill, and pointed out to me in the marsh below
us, as nearly as he could, just where the nest
was located. Then we crossed the pasture,
entered upon the marsh, and made our way
cautiously toward it. The wild thorny growths,
waist-high, had to. be carefully dealt with. As
we neared the spot I used my eyes the best I
could, but I did not see the hawk till she sprang
into the air not ten yards away from us. She
went screaming upward, and was soon sailing in
a circle far above us. There, on a coarse mat-
ting of twigs and weeds, lay five snow-white
eggs, a little more than half as large as hen's
eggs. My companion said the male hawk
would probably soon appear and join the fe-
male, but he did not. She kept drifting away
to- the east, and was soon gone from our sight.
We soon withdrew and secreted ourselves
behind the stone wall, in hopes of seeing the
mother hawk return. She appeared in the dis-
tance, but seemed to know she was being
watched, and kept away. About ten days later
we made another visit to the nest. An adven-


C\\7






A YOUNG MARSH-HAWK.


turous young Chicago lady also wanted to see
a hawk's nest, and so accompanied us. This
time three of the eggs were hatched, and as the
mother hawk sprang up, either by accident or
intentionally, she threw two of the young hawks
some feet from the nest. She rose up and
screamed angrily. Then, turning toward us, she


air is calculated to make one a little nervous.
It is such a fearful incline down which the bird
comes, and she is aiming exactly toward your
eye. When within about thirty feet of you
she turns upward with a rushing sound, and
mounting higher falls toward you again. She
is only firing blank cartridges, as it were; but


I
o

-I

if



~~ : r
:--

~~Z~sjlY~,


THE MARSH-HAWK.


came like an arrow straight at the young lady, a
bright plume in whose hat probably drew her
fire. The damsel gathered up her skirts about
her and beat a hasty retreat. Hawks were not
so pretty as she thought they were. A large
hawk launched at one's face from high in the
VOL. XX.-2.


it usually has the desired effect, and beats off
the enemy.
After we had inspected the young hawks, a
neighbor of my friend offered to conduct us
to a quail's nest. Anything in the shape of a
nest is always welcome, it is such a mystery,




A YOUNG MARSH-HAWK.


such a center of interest and affection, and, if
upon the ground, is usually something so dainty
and exquisite amid the natural wreckage and
confusion. A ground nest seems so exposed,
too, that it always gives a little thrill of plea-
surable surprise to see the group of frail eggs
resting there behind so slight a barrier. I will
walk a long distance any day just to see a song-
sparrow's nest amid the stubble or under a tuft
of grass. It is a jewel in a rosette of jewels, with
a frill of weeds or turf. A quail's nest I had
never seen, and to be shown one within the
hunting-ground of this murderous hawk would
be a double pleasure. Such a quiet, secluded,
grass-grown highway as we moved along was
itself a rare treat. Sequestered was the word
that the little valley suggested, and peace the
feeling the road evoked. The farmer, whose
fields lay about us, half grown with weeds
and bushes, evidently did not make stir or
noise enough to disturb anything. Beside
this rustic highway, bounded by old mossy
stone walls, and within a stone's throw of the


the mottled brown plumage of the sitting bird.
Then we approached her cautiously till we bent
above her.
She never moved a feather.
Then I put my cane down in the brush be-
hind her. We wanted to see the eggs, yet did
not want rudely to disturb the sitting hen.
She would not move.
Then I put down my hand within a few
inches of her; still she kept her place. Should
we have to lift her off bodily?
Then Miss E- put down her hand, proba-
bly the prettiest and the whitest hand the
quail had ever seen. At least it startled her,
and off she sprang, uncovering such a crowded
nest of eggs as I had never before beheld.
Twenty-one of them! a ring or disk of white
like a china tea-saucer. You could not help
saying how pretty, how cunning, like baby hen's
eggs, as if the bird was playing at sitting as
children play at housekeeping.
If I had known how crowded her nest was,
I should not have dared disturb her, for fear


A NEST OF YOUNG QUAIL.


farmer's barn, the quail had made her nest. It
was just under the edge of a prostrate thorn-bush.
"The nest is right there," said the farmer,
pausing within ten feet of it, and pointing to the
spot with his stick.
In a moment or two we could make out


she would break some of them. But not an
egg suffered harm by her sudden flight; and
no harm came to the nest afterward. Every
egg hatched, I was told, and the little chicks,
hardly bigger than bumblebees, were led away
by the mother into the fields.






A YOUNG MARSH-HAWK.


In about a week I paid another visit to the
hawk's nest. The eggs were all hatched, and
the mother-bird was hovering near. I shall
never forget the curious expression of those
young hawks sitting there on the ground. The
expression was not one of youth, but of extreme
age. Such an ancient, infirm look as they had-
the sharp, dark, and shrunken look about the
face and eyes, and their feeble, tottering mo-
tions! They sat upon their elbows and the
hind part of their bodies, and their pale,
withered legs and feet extended before them
in the most helpless fashion. Their angular
bodies were covered with a pale yellowish
down, like that of a chicken; their heads had
a plucked, seedy appearance; and their long,
strong, naked wings hung down by their sides
till they touched the ground: power and feroc-
ity in the first rude draught, shorn of every-
thing but its sinister ugliness. Another curious
thing was the gradation of the young in size;
they tapered down regularly from the first to
the fifth, as if there had been, as probably there
was, an interval of a day or two between the
hatching of each.
The two older ones showed some signs of
fear on our approach, and one of them threw
himself upon his back, and put up his impotent
legs, and glared at us with open beak. The two
smaller ones regarded us not at all.
Neither of the parent birds appeared during
our stay.
When I visited the nest again, eight or ten
days later, the birds were much grown, but of as
marked a difference in size as before, and with
the same look of extreme old age-old age in
men of the aquiline type, nose and chin com-
ing together, and eyes large and sunken. They
now glared upon us with a wild, savage look,
and opened their beaks threateningly.
The next week, when my friend visited the
nest, the larger of the hawks fought him sav-
agely. But one of the brood, probably the last
to hatch, had made but little growth. It ap-
S peared to be on the point of starvation. The
mother hawk (for the male seemed to have dis-
appeared) had doubtless found her family too
large for her, and was deliberately allowing one
of the number to perish; or did the larger and
stronger young devour all the food before the


weaker member could obtain any? Probably
this was the case.
Arthur brought the feeble nestling away, and
the same day my little boy got it and brought
it home, wrapped in a woolen rag. It was
clearly a starved bantling. It cried feebly, but
would not lift up its head.
We first poured some warm milk down its
throat, which soon revived it, so that it would
swallow small bits of flesh. In a day or two
we had it eating ravenously, and its growth
became noticeable. Its voice had the sharp
whistling character of that of its parents, and
was stilled only when the bird was asleep. We
made a pen for it, about a yard square, in one
end of the study, covering the floor with several
thicknesses of newspapers; and here, upon a bit
of brown woolen blanket for a nest, the hawk
waxed strong day by day. An uglier-looking
pet, tested by all the rules we usually apply to
such things, would have been hard to find.
There he would sit upon his elbows, his helpless
feet out in front of him, his great featherless
wings touching the floor, and shrilly cry for
more food. For a time we gave him water
daily from a stylograph-pen filler, but the water
he evidently did not need or relish. Fresh
meat, and plenty of it, was his demand. And
we soon discovered that he liked game, such as
mice, squirrels, birds, much better than butcher's
meat.
Then began a lively campaign on the part of
my little boy against all the vermin and small
game in the neighborhood to keep the hawk sup-
plied. He trapped and he hunted, he enlisted
his mates in his service, he even robbed the cats
to feed the hawk. His usefulness as a boy of
all work was seriously impaired. "Where is
J- ?" "Gone after a squirrel for his hawk."
And often the day would be half gone before
his hunt was successful. The premises were
very soon cleared of nuts, and the vicinity of
chipmunks and squirrels. Farther and farther
he was compelled to hunt the surrounding farms
and woods to keep up with the demands of the
hawk. By the time the hawk was ready to fly
he had consumed twenty-one chipmunks, four-
teen red squirrels, sixteen mice, and twelve Eng-
lish sparrows, besides a lot of butcher's meat.
His plumage very soon began to show itself,


1892.]






A YOUNG MARSH-HAWK.


crowding off tufts of the down. The quills on
his great wings sprouted and grew apace.
What a ragged, uncanny appearance he pre-
sented! but his look of extreme age gradually
became modified. What a lover of the sun-
light he was We would put him out upon the
grass in the full blaze of the morning sun, and
he would spread his wings and bask in it with
the most intense enjoyment. In the nest the
young must be exposed to the full power of the
midday sun during our first heated terms in
June and July, the thermometer often going up
to 93 or 95 degrees, so that sunshine seemed
to be a need of his nature. He liked the rain
equally well, and when put out in a shower
would sit down and take it as if every drop
did him good.
His legs developed nearly as slowly as his
wings. He could not stand steadily upon them
till about ten days before he was ready to fly.
The talons were limp and feeble. When we
came with food he would hobble along toward
us like the worst kind of a cripple, dropping
and moving his wings, and treading upon his
legs from the foot back to the elbow, the foot
remaining closed and useless. Like a baby
learning to stand, he made many trials before
he succeeded. He would rise up on his trem-
bling legs only to fall back again.
One day, in the summer-house, I saw him for
the first time stand for a moment squarely upon
his legs with the feet fully spread beneath them.
He looked about him as if the world suddenly
wore a new aspect.
His plumage now grew quite rapidly. One
red squirrel per day, chopped fine with an ax,
was his ration. He began to hold his game
with his foot while he tore it. The study was
full of his shed down. His dark-brown mot-
tled plumage began to grow beautiful. The
wings drooped a little, but gradually he got con-
trol of them and held them in place.
It was now the 20th of July; and the hawk
was about five weeks old. In a day or two
he was walking or jumping about the ground.
He chose a position under the edge of a Nor-
way spruce, where he would sit for hours doz-
ing, or looking out upon the landscape. When
we brought him game he would advance to
meet us with wings slightly lifted, and uttering


a-shrill cry. Toss him a mouse or sparrow,
and he would seize it with one foot and hop
off to his cover, where he would bend above
it, spread his plumage, look this way and that,
uttering all the time the most exultant and
satisfied chuckle.
About this time he began to practise striking
with his talons, as an Indian boy might begin
practising with his bow and arrow. He would
strike at a dry leaf in the grass, or at a fallen
apple, or at some imaginary object. He was
learning the use of his weapons. His wings
also--he seemed to feel them sprouting from
his shoulder. He would lift them straight up
and hold them expanded, and they would seem
to quiver with excitement. Every hour in the
day he would do this. The pressure was be-
ginning to center there. Then he would strike
playfully at a leaf or a bit of wood, and keep
his wings lifted.
The next step was to spring into the air and
beat his wings. He seemed now to be thinking
entirely ofhis wings. Theyitched tobe putto use.
A day or two later he would leap and fly sev-
eral feet. A pile of brush ten or twelve feet
below the bank was easily reached. Here he
would perch in true hawk fashion, to the bewil-
derment and scandal of all the robins and cat-
birds in the vicinity. Here he would dart his
eye in all directions, turning his head over and
glancing it up into the sky.
He was now a lovely creature, fully fledged,
and as tame as a kitten. But he was not a bit
like a kitten in one respect-he could not bear
to have you stroke or even touch his plumage.
He had a horror of your hand, as if it would
hopelessly defile him. But he would perch
upon it, and allow you to carry him about.
If a dog or cat appeared, he was ready to
give battle instantly. He rushed up to a little
dog one day, and struck him with his foot
savagely. He was afraid of strangers, and of
any unusual object.
The last week in July he began to fly quite
freely, and it was necessary to clip one of his
wings. As the clipping embraced only the
ends of his primaries, he soon overcame the
difficulty, and by carrying his broad, long tail
more on that side, flew with considerable ease.
He made longer and longer excursions into the




A .YOUNG MARSH-HAWK.


surrounding fields and vineyards, and did not after him, he could not be found, and we never
always return. On such occasions we would saw him again.
go find him and fetch him .back. We hoped hunger would soon drive him
Late one rainy afternoon he flew away into back, but we have had no clue to him from
the vineyard, -and when, an hour later, I went that day to this.


34


m MA


The amateur tragedian I lll I fi
So well his anguish feigned-
He moved the whole sreat audience '
-Till not a souJ. remained. -


lbe


































THE WHITE CAVE.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


CHAPTER I.
IN A STRANGE COUNTRY.
IT was as dark as
a pocket! A man
could not have seen
his hand before his
face. Moreover, the
silence was as com-
plete as was the
darkness, except that
through it all there
seemed to pour a single dull, vibrating mur-
mur. It was like a far-off river of sound, and
nobody could guess where it came from. The
air was still and cool and close, and there was
a damp, earthy smell.
That was a weird, lonesome place for stand-
ing still and listening, but at last there seemed
to be a faint rustling, and a breathing, as if
something was alive there and was moving
around. Then there came a sharp, repeated


"click," "click," and each click was followed
by a little stream of bright blue sparks. Then
there was a noise of blowing, and more sparks,
and then a glow which grew brighter, until a
hot blaze shot up, and it could be seen that
a human hand was heaping dry sticks and bark
upon the beginning of a fire in a rude kind of
fireplace.
Up streamed the growing blaze, brighter and
brighter, and it threw a strong glare of red light
upon the face and form of a man. He was
tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built,
with long, thick, bushy red hair falling down
to his shoulders, and with a great, tangled red
beard which matched his hair and came down
half-way to his waist. He wore a ragged check
shirt, and a pair of trousers that looked as if
they were made of leather, but he had no shoes
or stockings on his feet.
There were a sheathed knife and a large
revolver in the leather belt around his waist,
and a repeating rifle lay on the ground in front






THE WHJTE CAVE.


of the fire-that is, not on the ground, for it
was rock instead of earth, and the firelight now
scattered the darkness only to be stopped by
walls of rock in all directions except one. The
fireplace itself was only a crevice in a wall of
rock, and all the other walls were ragged and
broken. They were twenty feet or more apart,
and the rock roof above was twenty feet from
the floor, at the fireplace. In the one direction
in which there was no wall at all, however, the
roof slowly slanted up, and the floor gently
slanted down. In that direction the firelight
shot out until it was lost in the darkness, but it
was reflected from weird and wonderful figures.
There were projecting white shapes here and
there, rising right up from the floor. They were
rounded and grooved and fluted, in strangely
varied forms, and they seemed to stand up
and point at other white shapes that reached
down from the roof and pointed at them, and
seemed to be trying to touch them. All in
pure white they were, and the fire-glow danced
and glittered among them until they looked as
if they were dotted with polished jewels. It
was not so, however; for, after all, they were
nothing but stalactites and stalagmites, such as
dripping water manufactures out of limestone
in any place where it can work undisturbed
for thousands of years.
No doubt the man had seen it all before, and
was used to it; for he did not express any sur-
prise or delight. He piled more fuel on the
fire, and then he lighted one end of a long stick
of resinous wood and picked up a basket. The
air was warm enough already, so that he must
have needed fire for some other reason.
Glitter, flash, sparkle! More and more splen-
did grew that great, brilliant hall of whiteness,
until the man returned from the other side,
opposite the fireplace, with his basket full. It
was full of coal,- full of fine, white, easy-kind-
ling coal, such as belonged to that place and
country. White coal burns just as well as black
coal, but it is only to be found in some places.
Putting it upon the fire diminished the glare, of
course, until it could kindle up, and the man sat
down upon the rock and waited. He looked
at the fire and fanned the flame with a broad
palm-leaf, while the smoke of it went up
through the crevice in the rock. There was


a draft there which grew stronger and drew
well, so that soon he did not need to fan any
more. Then he turned and stared out into the
darkness, on the side where there was no wall
and where the firelight was soon lost in gloom.
There were no gray hairs upon the man's
head, nor in his long beard and mustache.
He could not have been of more than middle
age, but his face was deep-lined, as if he had
done a great deal of hard thinking. He was in
robust health, but the lines upon his face seemed
also to say that he had suffered much, and it
was a very troubled face. He stared and stared
into the darkness, and then he muttered in a
deep tone of voice:
"Vagabond! Hunted wolf! Wild beast!
That's what I am! What on earth was this
place made for? What was it put here for?
Why was I such a fool as to come here? "
He turned and put on more coal, while the
draft up the crevice in the rock grew stronger
and carried off the smoke more perfectly. It
was a remarkable natural chimney, but there
was no telling where it went to, or where or
how all that smoke was going to get out into
the world.
"I was n't a bad young fellow," he said, as
he poked the fire. "I was a fool, that 's all.
Well, well, I '11 eat something. I've got to eat,
I suppose. Then I '11 go to work. But what's
the use of my working ? What good will it ever
do me, or anybody else? Well, there 's no use
grumbling now. It has got to be done, whether
I can tell why or not."
He arose and went in the direction in which
the roof slanted downward and the floor slanted
upward. The walls narrowed also, and before
he had walked many paces he could almost
have reached up and touched the rock above
his head. The floor was fairly smooth, although
there were great seams in it, and here and there
a stalactite had grown down until it had joined
a stalagmite on the floor, making a beautiful
white pillar. At the foot of one of these there
was another basket, woven of strips of palm-
leaf, and he picked it up, carried it to the fire,
and took off its cover, remarking:
"I must say that now and then I like a
piece of broiled possum. Sometimes I don't
like it, but just now I could eat almost any-





THE WHITE CAVE.


thing. I '11 have a possum broil. Humph!
Cutlets! "
He pulled out some pieces of fresh meat,
took up a long forked stick, put one of the
pieces on the fork, and sat down before the fire
to cook it. As the cooking went on, however,
the sad look on his face softened and vanished.
In that strange, vast, glittering white kitchen
where he was broiling his possum cutlets, no-


The scene they beheld was beautiful As
far as the eye could reach, there were undulat-
ing pasture-lands, unfenced, dotted with flocks
of sheep and herds of cattle; but what they were
really interested in was near at hand. A large,
two-story house of stone, with wings and a long
rear addition, and with many outbuildings,
stood upon a slight elevation. In front was a
shaven lawn, ornamented here and there with


f-,'?Fr n n 7- W_ -11c"


---. .....;- "A. ji i

c-,~F
-V~Ii~ 3~


.... ..
'*1


SHOOTING AT THE DINGOES. (SEE PAGE 27.)


body could have told whether it was to-day,
or yesterday, or to-morrow, or morning, or
noon, or night. But in another place, many
miles away, it was about the middle of the
forenoon.
A six-mule team, hitched to a very well made,
white-tilted wagon, had been halted upon a
gently rising ground, and all around them, and
behind and ahead of them, there was a wild
medley of dogs, horses, and men. On the slope,
below, there was another group, all on horse-
back,-one large, dignified-looking man; one
equally dignified and very fine-looking woman;
two boys of about fifteen, perhaps, and one girl
younger than either of them. They were all gaz-
ing back, as if at something they were leaving.


trees, some of which were evergreens and shade-
trees of other sorts, but there were also fig-trees
and a kind of orange. Every side of the house,
and each wing even, had a wide veranda. The
windows had inner blinds and outer white-
canvas hoods. There was an observatory on
the roof. All around and near the house was
a kind of Eden. Trees, fruits, vines, flowers,
vegetables seemed to have found a place where
they could grow and prosper in marvelous
luxuriance. Graveled walks, arbors, vistas of
shade and sunshine, made it all very beautiful.
The house itself was built in a costly way, and
as if wealth and good taste had done all that
they could for it, without and within. For all
that, however, it was nothing but a farm-house.


"''~lr
~~-- ~~g,
i -
!'?~ .::
.
t ...
s
r Q


i






THE WHITE CAVE.


All the grassy rolls and levels, for miles and
miles around, were nothing but a great, fifty-
thousand-acre sheep-farm.
Hugh," exclaimed one of the boys, holding
in his somewhat restive horse, "'the Grampians'
is just beautiful!"
"It's never prettier than it is about this
time," said Hugh. "This fine, hot December
weather makes everything come right out. I
don't care, though! I say, ho for the bush!"
He was a blue-eyed, strongly made young
fellow, and his fresh, bright face was all aglow
with excitement. His companion was of about
the same height, but somewhat slenderer. He
was also dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a look
of wiry toughness, and his face had a keen,
inquiring, intelligent expression.
The horse which carried the girl at that
moment pushed forward between them.
"Oh, Hugh!" she exclaimed, then for Eng-
land I love the Grampians,' and I really want
to see the bush, but then- England! "
All right, Helen," responded the very digni-
fied man, in a deep, full voice; "you shall see
the bush and the mountains, and then we are
Soff for England. That 's settled!"
"Aunt Maude! said Helen, with even in-
. creasing eagerness, "how long are we to stay in
Sthe woods ? How many days will it be, Uncle
Fred?"
"Why, Helen Gordon, you should not be so
'impatient-"
Perhaps two or three days, Helen. You
will enjoy it, and the boys-"
His horse cut off his answer by a sudden
pIllung.: Aunt Maude's was also curveting spir-
itedly. It seemed that even the quadrupeds
felt the exhilaration of the air and scene.
S' Ah, but, Ned," said Hugh, "then you '11 be
of" for the United States, old fellow!"
Hurrah for that, too," replied Ned. "Father
seit in his resignation months ago. He says
he has played consul at Port Adelaide long
enough. He wants to get back to where they
don't have Fourth of July weather at Christ-
mas. And so do I-but I must say this is
great!"
One of the men near the wagon was just
then remarking to his mates:
S"B'ys, it 's the grand picnic we 're going' on.


To think o' them trying' to have a good time
in the bush!"
Never you worrit your soul about Sir Fred-
erick Parry," was the half-crusty response of
another of the men, "nor Leddy Maude,
ayther. They know what they 're about."
Perhaps they did, and her ladyship had said
to her husband that very morning:
"Indeed, Sir Frederick, if for nothing more,
I am glad we are to make this excursion. I
should hardly like to confess, in England, that
I had lived here so long and had never so
much as looked into the wilderness. And espe-
cially when it comes almost at our very doors."
"You will see it now, Maude," he replied,
heartily. "I am glad everything is so entirely
safe. No more black savages in the country;
no dangerous wild animals left; no more bush-
rangers; fine weather-we shall have a perfect
picnic."
This, therefore, was the treat anticipated by
this excited, happy, jubilant party, who were
looking back at "the Grampians" farm and
farm-house.
There came the sharp crack of a whip, and
the mules leaned forward in their harness, while
all the party on the slope wheeled their horses
and dashed gaily past the wagon. Ahead of
them all, laughing and shouting merrily to each
other, rode Helen Gordon and the two boys.
Her blue eyes were dancing with animation;
her golden hair was fluttering loosely in the
warm north wind blowing over the plain; her
healthy red cheeks were flushed. And Helen
was a very pretty young English girl.
"Hugh," said Ned, "look at her! One of
these days she will be as splendid-looking as
your mother is. She looks like her already."
"Mother's hair is redder than Helen's is,"
said Hugh. "It 's as red as mine." As for
Sir Frederick's, it was of a light brown, and
closely cropped. He had gray eyes, a firm,
strong mouth, and a clean-shaven face; and he
was particularly well dressed for a picnic in
the bush.
The mule-driver shouted vigorously at his
team, and the entire party passed on over the
brow of the hill. At that very moment, away
off in that other place, where there was no hot
December sunshine, nor any wind, nor any


1892.]






THE WHITE CAVE.


voice but his own, the red-bearded man, sitting
in front of his fire, held up his cutlet of pos-
sum-meat, and said:
I think it 's done-Hullo! What's that?"
He turned his face quickly toward the dark
part of the cave, and listened.
Out of that vast, mysterious gloom and
whiteness there came, all the while, the river
of dull, muffled, roaring sound; but now it grew
stronger for a moment. Something like a crash
mingled with it, and that was followed by a re-
verberation resembling the tones of a sonorous
church-bell.
"I must look out," he remarked, "or some
day one of those things will fall on me, and
make an end of me. Not that I 'd care much,
but then-I must n't think of that. I declare,
when a fellow is right down hungry, he can eat
broiled possum-meat and enjoy it. I '11 eat
all I can, and then go to work. First of all,
though, I must go and get some water."
He did not seem to have much kitchen fur-
niture, but he owned an old rusty tin pail, and
a coil of rope-cord that looked as if he might
have braided it himself, out of some kind of
bark fiber. He pulled the cord and pail out
from among the white pillars where he kept
his baskets. Then he lighted his torch-stick,
and set off down the slope. Everything around
him glittered and glimmered in the torch-light,
as he walked along, but his bare feet made no
noise upon the smooth, rocky floor. The de-
scent was not steep, but the upward slant of
the roof was more rapid, and so was the spread
of the side walls. So the great dark cavern he
was in grew more and more ghostly and
solemn as he advanced. He walked on and
on until, when he looked up, he could see
only glistening white points among the shad-
ows overhead, while the roaring sound grew
nearer and louder, and had in it something of
dashing and splashing. There were currents
of air which made the torch flare and flicker,
but they were not strong enough to blow it
out.
"A fellow ought to be safe, away in here.
But he is n't," remarked the man, once more
looking up, and at that moment something
white came flashing down. It looked like a
streak of white for a half-second, and then


there was a crash, a bang, and the vast cavern
rang again with the strange, bell-like noise.
One of the largest stalactites of the roof had
broken off and fallen to the floor, and now its
main stem and several smaller fragments rolled
and tumbled thunderously down the slope.
What a crash!" said the man, as if speaking
to somebody. "It has gone down the chasm.
If I had been under it, I'd have been crunched
like a beetle. There would have been the end
of me. Well, nobody else knows where I am,
anyhow; and I don't know, myself, what I am
here for. It really would not make any differ-
ence whether I am killed or not."
About a minute after that, he stood still and
held up his torch. He was standing upon the
brink of an exceedingly grim kind of precipice.
It was as if the rock floor under him had been
broken off there. All before him was thick
darkness, when he lay flat down upon the rock
and lowered his pail by the rope; but, as he
held out his torch, he could faintly see the
foaming, tumbling surface of a torrent which
poured swiftly along at the bottom of the
chasm.
"Almost a hundred feet of rope," he said
to himself. "It's good water after you 've got
it, but nobody can say whether or not it has
anything to do with the other river above
ground. I don't care. No torch that I ever
brought here would throw light enough to show
me the other side of this gulf. I mean to make
a big blaze some day, and see what it will
bring to light out there. Now I must go
back and get at my work."
He was pulling up his rope and pail, hand
over hand, while he was speaking.- And, dur-
ing all this time, Sir Frederick Parry's six-mule
team had been pushing merrily forward, with
himself and Lady Maude riding a little ahead
of it. The dogs of the party were only three in
number, and each of them was tugging vigor-
ously against the cord by which the hand of
a horseman held him back. Helen and Hugh
and Ned were free, however, and they were
cantering sharply some distance in advance
of the rest.
"We might see game!" Hugh had said.
They were all three glancing around among the
trees and bushes, as they went, and it was plain






THE WHITE CAVE.


that each boy was trying to seem to ride easily
while carrying a heavy double-barreled gun.
"Boys!" suddenly Helen all but screamed,
"look there!"
"Quick, Ned! shouted Hugh, as he pulled
hard upon his bridle.
Ned's horse may have been the quieter, for
his gun was up first.
"0, how cruel!" cried Helen. "Shoot them!"
There was an old wagon-track, but not a
road, and in the middle of the track, not many
yards beyond her, lay the torn carcasses of
several sheep, while over them snapped and
snarled savagely nearly a dozen ferocious-look-
ing animals.
"Wolves!" said Ned, as he fired.
"Wild dogs! shuddered Helen.
"Dingoes I replied Hugh, as he fired both
barrels of his gun.
There were four gun reports, and these were
followed quickly by the bang, bang, seven times,
of a small revolver in the hand of Helen Gordon.
"Frederick!" exclaimed Lady Parry.
"What is that? Ride on! Hurry!"
B'ys!" roared the driver of the mule team,
"on with ye's! Quick! "
Down came his long, cracking whip-lash over
his unlucky mules; on dashed the mounted
men; forward sprang the spirited horses which
carried the baronet and his wife.- The first
exciting adventure of that excursion party had
come to them before they were two miles from
"the Grampians farm-house.

CHAPTER II.
THE PERILS OF THE BUSH.
SIR FREDERICK'S horse had gone forward
with a great bound, at the sound of the firing,
but he and Lady Maude drew rein side by side,
a few seconds later, at the spot where Hugh
and Ned were trying to quiet their excited
ponies. Helen's pony was behaving very well,
but her revolver was empty.
"0 Aunt Maude! she cried. "I do hope
I hit some of them! "
"I hope you did I 'm glad some of them
were hit," replied Lady Maude, with energy.
Wolves, wild dogs, dingoes, whatever they
were to be called, all had vanished except a


pair lying still among the torn and bleeding
bodies of the baronet's lost sheep. Of course
the boys had not aimed very well, and perhaps
Helen had not really hit anything; but such a
storm of leaden pellets had been sent that some
of them had found their marks.
"Dingoes!" growled Sir Frederick. "The
worst enemies of sheep-farming! "
"Hugh," said Ned, looking down at the pair
they had killed, "they 're savage-looking fel-
lows. Are they ever dangerous ? "
"They would be, if cornered," said Hugh,
"but they 'd never come near a party like
ours. They 're natural cowards!"
They were ugly-looking brutes, and Helen
said so, pointing her empty revolver at them,
while Aunt Maude pitied the poor, slaughtered
sheep. Sir Frederick and his men did not say
much, but they were evidently more than a lit-
tle surprised and annoyed by the presence of so
many dingoes so very near "the Grampians."
The boys reloaded their guns before remount-
ing the ponies, and Helen also filled all the
seven chambers of her pretty silver-finished
weapon.
"I 've had target practice enough," she said,
"and I mean to hit something else, while we 're
in the bush."
Her rosy face was aglow with a hunting-fever,
and with courageous readiness for whatever
might come. It made her uncle and aunt laugh
to look at her, but Lady Maude remarked:
"I think I shall carry a revolver, too. There
is one in the strong box that is n't too large for
me to carry."
Everybody else seemed to be taking an in-
creased interest in the excursion, including the
three men, who had been almost pulled out of
their saddles by the tugging of the dogs.
In the cavern, meanwhile, the red-bearded
man, after bringing his pail of water, had found
a singular piece of work to do. He went in
among the group of white pillars, and brought
out a large red-clay crucible, rudely fashioned
and very thoroughly fire-marked. He settled it
down among the coals, and heaped them around
it. He went again, and returned with a heavy
leather bag, out of which he took something or
other which he dropped, piece by piece, into
the crucible. It was chiefly in small fragments






THE WHITE CAVE.


that were weighty, considering their size. When
that was done, he went again and brought out
a palm-leaf basket that was very heavy indeed,
for it was full of fine, dusty, yellow sand. He
poured it into a broken hollow in the rocky
floor near the fire, and made several dents in its
surface by pressing down into it a small piece
of wood. Each dent was as large as two fin-
gers of a man's hand, and he packed the dust
hard around the stick, each time, so that the
dents kept their shape after it was taken out.
There," he said, "the molds are ready.
There 's a good fire, but there won't be any
melting right away. It takes time for that. I
think I will go out and look around."
He poked the fire, put on more coal, peered
into the crucible, and then he made a loose coil
of his rope. The pail was still full of water,
and he remarked:
"That 's for Nig."
He picked up his rifle, and went toward the
pillars at the upper end of the cavern. There
were not many of them, and before he got
through and beyond them the roof was so low
that his head almost touched it. Then it sloped
lower and lower, and he had to stoop and then
to creep. He crept along a sort of passage,
such as is common among limestone rocks any-
where, and it grew narrower, until it was little
more than wide enough for a man of his size
to pass easily. At this point a fit of caution
seemed to seize him, and he paused, listening.
"I can't help it," he said to himself; "I al-
ways feel as if somebody were after me. I am
hunted, too, sure enough;-and they have
barely missed me, sometimes."
He crept on again, listening and feeling his
way in the darkness of that underground crev-
ice. Probably he knew every inch of it, and, at
last, he put out a hand and pushed sharply
against something which fell back and let in a
great glare of sunshine.
"I am always glad," he said, "to see day-
light, whenever I can. It is n't of much use
to me, that I know of. I seem to belong
underground."
The expression of his face when he said that
was sad, but it was also fierce and resentful.
In a moment more he was out of the crevice,
and was standing erect among some bushes,


while on either side of him were what looked
like huge tree-roots. The thing which he had
pushed away to let him out was a big piece of
bark, fitted in between two of those gnarled,
bunchy roots. The bushes were thick, and
there did not seem to be any path through
them. He walked on cautiously for a few
yards, to where they were thinner and more
open, and then he looked up.
I always like to take a look at my mountain
ash," he remarked. They say some of its kind
are larger, but I don't believe it."
He had reason for such a doubt, for it was
certainly a large tree. It was between sixty
and seventy feet around, at the height of a
man from its base. There was not a branch
upon its massive trunk for over a hundred feet
from the ground, but there they began, and the
spreading crown of the forest monarch was
lifted proudly up at a height of more than four
hundred feet. It was a grand sentinel to stand
at any man's door, even at the door of so strange
a house as that in which this remarkable man
had broiled his slices of possum. He was now
standing in a hollow between the roots of the
giant, and was peering cautiously in all direc-
tions. All was dense forest, and there was a
deep forest silence. He seemed to be satisfied
that he was alone there, for he stepped out with
his rifle and the coil of rope over his shoulder,
and his pail of water in his hand.
Nig, first," he said. "I '11 keep an eye out
after game, but I must n't waste any ammuni-
tion, with so few cartridges left. Anyhow, I
don't believe I 'm in any special danger just
now. There is n't another living soul in all this
part of the bush."
That might be, but in another part of the
bush Sir Frederick Parry was just recovering
from a hearty fit of laughter.
Dingoes ? he said. "She won't see any
more of them; but it's good fun to see how she
and the boys are hunting."
"I believe we are really going to enjoy it,"
said his wife, and so will they."
Of course they will," he replied. Helen 's
ready to shoot anything. Well, Maude, we
can sail for England in January, just in our
midsummer; and we shall get there in April,
and have summer weather all the way and after-






THE WHITE CAVE.


ward. Quite the longest summer you ever had
in your life. Then, if we are to come back here,
and if we leave England before October, it will
be two whole years of summer, with bits of
spring and autumn."
I don't care so much for that," said Lady
Maude, "but I hope we shall not lose ourselves
in this wilderness."
"There 's not the least danger of that," he
replied confidently. "I know exactly what to
do, and so do the men."
Nevertheless, as they went along, the men
were telling each other wild tales of what things
had happened to explorers of those endless
forests and of the rugged mountain ranges.
Even Helen and the boys, in spite of their keen
lookout after game, were remembering and
telling all they had ever heard of adventures in
that only half-discovered country. Ned, indeed,
had more to say about American Indians and
California gold-mines, while Hugh seemed to
be especially well informed concerning the de-
graded and merciless black cannibals of Aus-
tralia, who were now nearly all gone. All three
of these young folk, however, seemed to have
heard and read a great deal about the old sys-
tem of making that new land a state prison for
English convicts. They told what dreadful fel-
lows these were, and how many of them escaped
into the "bush" and became veritable white
savages- hardly less terrible than black-fellows
themselves.
It was really comforting to be able to assure
one another that there were no wild men of any
kind in all that part of the country, while it was
said that the forests had now more game in them
than ever before.
"Get lost?" remarked Hugh, contemptu-
ously, in answer to a question of Helen's.
No, indeed! Why, we could n't possibly get
lost. Not such a party as ours, and going only
a couple of days out from the Grampians.'
Oh, but won't we have a good time! "
The whole party responded with a cheery
shout, and Sir Frederick gave orders to get as
far into the bush as possible before going into
camp for the night.
Whatever the red-bearded man in the cave
had been doing, he had now returned and was
once more standing in front of the fire. Beside


him, on the floor, lay a huge bird that looked
something like an ostrich; but he remarked of it:
Emu-meat is dry stuff. I 'm glad I lassoed
him and did n't have to waste a cartridge. This
and the rest of the possum will be provisions
enough to start with. I wish Nig were shod,
though, for he's got a hard trip to make. I 'm
going to the gulch just this once, and I '11 bring
back every ounce there is left. It's a big risk
to take, too, with those fellows on the watch
for me."
All the while, as he talked, he was poking in
the crucible with a long iron rod.
Ready he exclaimed at last. I '11 finish
this job, and then hurrah for the mountains!
I '11 be glad to live in the open air for a while."
He took up a long, stout pole with a fork at
one end. He shoved the fork in among the
coals until it had a good hold of the crucible.
Of course it caught fire, but he did not seem to
mind that. He lifted the crucible and swung it
around to the spot on the floor where he had
made his sand molds. He tipped the nozle
slowly over one of the molds, and a red, bril-
liant, fiery stream of something liquid began to
pour out. He filled one mold after another
until the fluid ceased to run.
Five!" he exclaimed. About three pounds
apiece. Now, would n't that band of rascals
over in the gulch have got a good haul if they
had bagged me the last time I went? Some
of their bullets whizzed pretty close, too. They
would give something to know where I left the
rest of it, or when I 'm coming after it-the rob-
bers! Land pirates! I got away that time,
and Nig and I have only got to try it this
once more. We can beat 'em. I '11 just let
those slugs cool where they are. They may
never be of any use, to me or anybody else,
but I like them, somehow."
In a few minutes more he was out in the
open air. He carried a pail of water, and he
had his rifle and his rope; but over his shoulder
were also slung a saddle, bridle, saddle-bags,
a bundle, and a long-handled spade.
The bark door between the tree-roots had
been closed with care, and only the sharpest
eyes could have discovered any trace of his
passage through the bushes. On he walked
for about ten minutes, and then he came to






THE WHITE CAVE.


an open, grassy place. All around it the trees
and bushes grew thickly, luxuriantly, in a way
to explain why it had been chosen both for a
pasture lot and for a place.to hide a horse in.
There he was, nibbling busily at the grass, a
large, strong-looking horse, very black, and in
good working condition, for he was not by any
means too fat. The approach of his master's
feet was noiseless, so that he had no warning;
but there came a shrill whistle from the edge
of the bushes, and Nig knew it. He began
to prance.
"Glad I 've come, are you? said the man,
as he drew nearer. "Well, you need n't be.
I 've brought you another job through the
mountains, with a heavy pack to bring back
this way."
Nig neighed again, as if he were quite will-
ing, although it was getting somewhat late in
the day. He was soon bridled and saddled
and mounted.
Nig and his master were just setting out upon
their journey, wherever it was to take them.
They were fresh and bright; but that was more
than could be said of six mules, who had been
pulling a tilted wagon through forest ways, hour
after hour, in all the heat of real December
weather. They were not the only creatures who
were feeling it, and one of the consequences
was a succession of shrill cries, which began to
sound through the silence of the forest.
Hugh!" exclaimed Ned, as he turned in his
saddle and listened, what 's that ? "
"I heard it," said Hugh. "It means to come
back. They 've halted."
"Coo-ee-e! Coo-ee-e! Coo-ee-e!" came the
cries again, full and clear.
Don't you know? said Hugh. "That 's
the call of the herdsmen. It 's the way they
keep track of each other in the bush. You
can hear it ever so far, and the sheep and
cattle and horses know it."
"Boys," said Helen, "we must go back.
That was Uncle Fred's voice."
They obeyed the call; but neither they,
nor the red-bearded cave man, nor anybody


in all that part of the bush, could hear another
set of calls, of much the same sort, which were
sounding at the same time. They were sound-
ing in an even wilder place, moreover; for it
was as solitary, while instead of trees and shrub-
bery there were rocks and ledges and dangerous-
looking gullies. "Coo-ee-e" after coo-ee-e"
echoed among the quartz and granite masses,
calling and answering each other, and then a
group of half a dozen men gathered upon a
gravelly level. They were a rugged and ragged
and really savage-looking company, and, as
they came together, one of them called out:
No, boys, we have n't found it yet; but we
shall find it. It is hereabout, somewhere. Be-
sides, he '11 be coming after it, and we shall get
it then if we can't find it now."
His time 's about up, if he 's coming," re-
plied another man. "Maybe he is n't far away
now. We 'd better wait and watch for him, the
next few days."
"That 's so," said a hoarse and mocking
voice, "and we must n't shoot too quick when
we sight him."
"Shoot? No; of course not," said the first
speaker, with a laugh of wolfish cunning. What
we want is just to nab him. Then we can
threaten him till he tells where he hid every
ounce he took out of his gulch. First and
last, he took out a heap, and it 's hid away
somewhere."
"Threaten him? said a big, hard-faced fel-
low. "We '11 tie him to a sapling and soon
make him tell all he knows."
"What '11 we do then ?" asked another.
"What? Why, find out if he 's told the
truth; and if he has, and as soon as we 've
bagged all his nuggets, all we 've got to do is
to leave him tied there, if we like. That '11 be
the end of the matter."
The whole half-dozen growled a fierce, cruel
growl of assent to that idea. They were angry
at having hunted and waited long without suc-
cess, and they looked more and more wolfish
as they talked. And all the while Nig was
bringing his master nearer and nearer.


(To be continued.)





INANIMATE THINGS ANIMATED.


BY P. NEWELL.


MR. COMB: "What 's the matter with that child ? I 'm just wild with his howling!"
MRS. COMB: I think the little dear is beginning to cut his teeth."












TWILIGHT.

By MARY THATCHER HIGGINSON.


A WEARY man sat lost in thought;
The firelight sank beneath his look;
And shadows, by his fancy wrought,
Soon lurked in every nook.

A birdlike voice rang through the hall;
Two little feet danced down the stair;
The fire leaped up at that blithe call,
And gleamed on shining hair.


" I am so glad," the gay song was;
" So glad," it echoed to and fro;
"I don't know why, unless because
You are Papa, you know!"

Care fled before that sweet belief;
The shadows melted quite away;
The weary man forgot his grief,
Forgot his hair was gray.


UNCLE JACK'S GREAT RUN.

By TUDOR JENKS.


TELL the story? You know it all.
'T was eighty-something,-in the fall.
Nothing to nothing was the score,
Till at last we had only five minutes more.
" Steady, boys!" was the captain's cry.
And we lined up, ready to do or die.
"Fifteen -twelve! the signal came,
And 't was mine to win or lose the game.

Teddy, the "half-back," passed the ball
To me, and he almost let it fall;
But I gripped it, and the line gaped wide
As our rushers flung their men aside.


Then, in the twinkling of an eye,
I saw their "tackle" rushing by
To block the gap.
I made a bend,
And like a flash went round the end.
Their "end-rush" grabbed, but I wriggled
free,
And away I went-two after me-
For their goal. A good half-mile it seemed.
I heard faint cheering as if I dreamed.
I dodged their "back," and I crossed the
line.
I fell on the ball! -The game was mine!


That's all. What?-Yes, there was one thing more.
You 've all heard the story told before.
You know that my chum's sister came
To see the great Thanksgiving game.
Her eyes and the ribbon she wore were blue,
And I won the game- and Aunt Nelly, too.












TWILIGHT.

By MARY THATCHER HIGGINSON.


A WEARY man sat lost in thought;
The firelight sank beneath his look;
And shadows, by his fancy wrought,
Soon lurked in every nook.

A birdlike voice rang through the hall;
Two little feet danced down the stair;
The fire leaped up at that blithe call,
And gleamed on shining hair.


" I am so glad," the gay song was;
" So glad," it echoed to and fro;
"I don't know why, unless because
You are Papa, you know!"

Care fled before that sweet belief;
The shadows melted quite away;
The weary man forgot his grief,
Forgot his hair was gray.


UNCLE JACK'S GREAT RUN.

By TUDOR JENKS.


TELL the story? You know it all.
'T was eighty-something,-in the fall.
Nothing to nothing was the score,
Till at last we had only five minutes more.
" Steady, boys!" was the captain's cry.
And we lined up, ready to do or die.
"Fifteen -twelve! the signal came,
And 't was mine to win or lose the game.

Teddy, the "half-back," passed the ball
To me, and he almost let it fall;
But I gripped it, and the line gaped wide
As our rushers flung their men aside.


Then, in the twinkling of an eye,
I saw their "tackle" rushing by
To block the gap.
I made a bend,
And like a flash went round the end.
Their "end-rush" grabbed, but I wriggled
free,
And away I went-two after me-
For their goal. A good half-mile it seemed.
I heard faint cheering as if I dreamed.
I dodged their "back," and I crossed the
line.
I fell on the ball! -The game was mine!


That's all. What?-Yes, there was one thing more.
You 've all heard the story told before.
You know that my chum's sister came
To see the great Thanksgiving game.
Her eyes and the ribbon she wore were blue,
And I won the game- and Aunt Nelly, too.







-05-;



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.... ....
vt-cz--go s




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AA a~-


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-- ~ -.


-~.~ .4. :4. .


tar ""Lim


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**4


"AND LIKE A FLASH WENT ROUND THE E.ND.
"AND LIKE A FLASH WENT ROUND THE ND.,"


VOL. XX. 3.












ED'. ELLA Lr';uH.


A LONG time
'"rn L.:,, in the
Fo ,-ountry of
'At Pastango-
i ^ ''nia, there
; asonce a
( Giantwho
S O c as born
"s o w of' ls verygood-
natured.
As most
giants are
born ill-
natured,
i this one was
an exception to
the general rule.
Nothing pleased
him more than to
Then, ado kind actions.
Of course all sorts
offolks came from the
regions round about to get the Giant to help them
in various ways. Anybody who was too weak, or
too cowardly, or too lazy to do something that
he wanted to do, would seek an interview with
the Giant, and forthwith proceed to pile all his
responsibilities on the Giant's broad back.
Well, one morning, just about cock-crow, a
certain Prince rode up to the Giant's castle and
gave a tremendous tug at the big castle bell.
Then, as nobody answered, he kicked loudly
at the postern-gate, and so aroused the Giant,
who was a sound sleeper.
When the Giant appeared on the threshold,
rubbing his eyes and yawning, the Prince said
crossly: "Well, I must say you keep me wait-
ing very long, considering my rank! Do you
call this sort of thing being good-natured?"
But the Giant pretended not to hear, and
asked his visitor what he could have the plea-
sure of doing for him, and invited him to climb
up the audience-ladder and explain his business.
Then the Prince, regarding the Giant atten-


lively, saw that he had a ladder of handsome
embroidery running up his clothing from foot
to shoulder, as a convenience for the public at
large. Whereupon he climbed to the Giant's
shoulder with great agility, and so found him-
self on a level with the Giant's right ear.
"Though I know I look every inch a king,"
he said, you must n't suppose I am one; for
I have n't been crowned yet-thanks to the
plottings of an unprincipled relative of mine.
My uncle is a usurper, and he has stolen my
kingdom from me."
The Giant bowed so low that he almost top-
pled his royal visitor from his shoulder.
"Don't do that again!" said the Prince,
whose front name was Tesso, and whose back
name is of no consequence in a fairy tale; I
can't bear a groveler. And now allow me to
tell you what I want you to do. To begin with,
I desire you to boil my wicked uncle in oil.
Water would, of course, come cheaper, but I
prefer to have him slowly simmered in oil, as
a warning to others, you understand. Next I
wish you to decimate the army which has
backed up my unscrupulous relation in his ne-
farious schemes. And, lastly, I '11 get you to
take a stroll through my dominions, and tram-
ple heavily on any of my rascally subjects who
may come in your way, just to punish them for
not having had spirit enough to cast off the yoke
of the usurper. When you have done as I sug-
gest, I can no doubt, without opposition, ascend
the throne that is rightly mine. Have I your
promise to aid me in the manner described? "
The Giant was a very slow thinker, and as
he was accustomed to fall in with the views of
all those who called upon him, he readily gave
the desired promise, without pausing to look at
the situation in all its bearings.
Very well," said Prince Tesso. "Then we
had better start immediately for my dominions.
Will you walk? It will save time if you do so,
and you can easily carry me with you."
The obliging Giant, without more ado, at






A GIANT IN FRAGMENTS. 35
once stuck the Prince in his hat-band, and then promise he had made, or he would be a dis-
proceeded to place several bushels of oats and graced Giant for evermore.
the Prince's steed in one of his coat They argued the matter for some
pockets, while a plentiful supply time, but the Prince was firm,
of provisions for the journey and finally the Giant had
went into the other pocket. / to give up all hope of shak-
The Giant plodded along ing the royal resolution.
steadily all day, but as But when the Prince
the sun declined he grew had gone to sleep on a
more and more thought- bed of dried leaves, the
ful. He was beginning Giant stole off through
to realize that he had a shadowy avenue of
acted foolishly, and the wood. He said
that he was upon an to himself, Perhaps
errand which a Giant the Fairy Flitella will
with a disposition like be able to help me, if
his own should not I can only find her."
have rashly under- After a while, as he
taken. advanced, he heard a
When evening came, sound of elfin music,
he and the Prince en- and to his great de-
camped on the fringe light perceived the lit-
of a wood of some ex- tle personage of whom
tent. The Giant ate a he was in search seated
very poor supper-for upon a big pink toad-
a Giant- and present- l stool. As soon as she
ly turned to Prince a recognized the Giant,
Tesso, and said: she put down her man-
"I don't, after all, dolin,-an instrument
quite like the idea of contrived out of an
boiling your Royal acorn cup, with half
Highness's uncle in oil, a dozen strands of
of destroying a number spider's web for strings,
of presumably gallant -and smiled him a
warriors, and of crush- gracious welcome.
ing a still larger num- "You need not
ber of simple citizens trouble to go into
under my heels like i details," said the
so many beetles; Fairy. I know
so if your Royal everything, and
Highness will I know therefore
excuse me, I what is troubling
think I '11 turn you. I always said
back and walk that your good-
home." nature and your
Thereupon stupidity, working
the Prince said together, would
severely thathe "HE CLIMBED TO THE GIANT'S SHOULDER." get you into a
was n't going to permit the Giant to go back mess one of these days, you silly fellow; and
on his word. He must fulfil to the letter the a nice dilemma you 're in at present, are n't






A GIANT IN FRAGMENTS.


pleasant ones; but this was
not a time to stick at trifles,
so he begged the Fairy to
effect the transformation with
S-all speed, and allow him to
L get clear of the neighbor-
hood before the Prince
awoke.
SFlitella produced a tiny
2pocket-wand which she al--
ways carried about with her,
flew briskly up to the Giant's
chest, and with the wand
w 2 tapped him lightly on the
third button of his jerkin
So n t, once- twice- thrice -four
So y a onc. Y ou times-five times six times
'7 -seven times-eight times
-r-"' --nine times -ten tines!
"'IT APPEARS TO ME,' SAID THE FAIRY, 'THAT FLIGHT WILL BE YOUR BEST PLAN." At the tenth tap there
was audible a slight creak-
you ? As a good-natured Giant you can't boil ing sound, and the Giant fell all to pieces in
a usurper in oil or any other liquid, and as a a moment. Where he had reared his enor-
Giant of honor you can't break your spoken mous bulk, ten funny little men attired in cos-
word. It appears to me that flight will be tumes not unlike the Giant's stood staring at
your best plan. Keep in hiding for a while, one another very hard.
and perhaps Prince Tesso may change his mind, "Oh-h-h! exclaimed the Giant's Frag-
or his unboiled uncle may repent and make ments, contemptuously, whatt a set of whip-
restitution, or-a thousand things may happen. persnappers we are!"
So fly at once." "You 'll soon get used to yourself-or
But the Giant smilingly pointed out that flight rather to yourselves," said the Fairy, consol-
was out of the question for an individual of his ingly. "And now you 'd better get away, the
physical proportions, who could n't go rushing lot of you, as soon as you can. When you
through any country without attracting univer- want to resume your proper form, you have
sal attention. merely to utter the magic word 'Azziwaz,' and
"If I tried to escape in that manner," he said, the change will immediately take place."
"the Prince would at once be put upon my trail The Giant, collectively and individually,
by some busybody, and then he would follow thanked the Fairy for the trouble she had taken
me up and insist upon keeping me to my fatal to serve him, and forthwith quitted the forest in
promise." sections, each portion going by a different route,
Flitella was suddenly struck by a brilliant and traveling with stealth and caution.
idea. But the Giant's Fragments, feeling lonely -
"I am willing," she said, if you desire it, to which was but natural under the circumstances
change you into ten men of less than ordinary -took care to reassemble very shortly on the
height, and of commonplace appearance. If top of a high mountain a couple of leagues
you will consent to disperse in fragments, your away. Then, taking council together, they
escape can, I think, be managed successfully." decided that they would for a time roam the
The Giant did n't altogether relish the no- country together, depending on a supply of
tion of becoming ten ordinary dumpy mortals, alms, which they hoped to collect by begging
for gianthood has its privileges, numerous and at the doors of the well-to-do inhabitants.





A GIANT IN FRAGMENTS.


As the people of the regions thereabouts had
never seen any tramps before, they behaved
with extreme generosity to the ten travelers,
giving them massive segments of stale apple-
pie, cold potatoes, and other delicacies to sus-
tain them during their wanderings.


lamb, and she did not return. Everybody said
she had been "carried away by the Warbilow."
Now, the Prince knew no more than you
do what the Warbilow was; but when it was
reported that his Seena, whom he loved so
dearly, had been abducted by such a creature,


"TEN FUNNY LITTLE MEN STOOD STARING AT ONE ANOTHER."


In the mean time the Prince had been gradu-
ally sinking in the world. Abandoned by the
Giant, he had given up his oil-boiling project
and the rest of his plot against his wicked
uncle, and had looked around him for a means
of livelihood; for he had no money whatever,
and, what was worse still, no subjects upon
whom he could levy taxes.
In a few days he was compelled to sell his
horse in order to raise funds, and then all his
jewels and his fine clothing went by degrees,
and he was at length driven to drop the orna-
mental for the useful, and to hire himself out to
a prosperous farmer for his board and lodging,
and a few ducats a year.
At first he would rail terribly at the Giant for
betraying him; but by degrees he forgot to do
this, for he had fallen deeply in love with the
farmer's daughter, and it seemed to him that to
be near her was happiness greater than any he
could have known as a king with a crown on his
head and a boiled uncle on his conscience.
Day by day he grew more reconciled to his
lot, for the fair Seena returned his affection.
The two lovers became formally betrothed,
and then a' dreadful thing happened. Seena
went out one afternoon to look for a stray


he made haste to institute inquiries, and as
Seena's father was at hand, it was he whom
Prince Tesso proceeded to interrogate.
"Who or what is the Warbilow ?" said the
Prince.
"The Warbilow," replied the farmer, endea-
voring to speak as calmly as an encyclopedia,
"is the Dragon Bird of this kingdom, and he
frequently carries people off to his cavern-nest
in the center of the Cinder Desert. There he
keeps them in his pantry until he is hungry, and
then-"
The Prince interrupted him by brandishing a
pitchfork, and avowing his intention to pursue
the Warbilow and rescue Seena at once.
It is useless," replied the old man, dolefully.
"Everybody about here has good reason to
believe the prophetic rhyme which has been
handed down to us by our forefathers, and
which runs as follows:
"Till ten men who have once been one
Shall cleave his heart in twain,
The Warbilow unscathed shall go,
And not by man be slain.
"Many young men have attempted what you
would attempt, but they all have perished, for,
of course, they were not 'ten men who had






A GIANT IN FRAGMENTS.


once been one,' and so the Warbilow was able
to defeat and tear them to fragments. There is
no hope for my unhappy daughter."
Prince Tesso did not stay to contradict him.
He simply set off, running his hardest, in the
direction of the Cinder Desert.
He ran on and on through the night. The
moon set, and misty starlight darkness closed in
upon him, but still he ran on, pursuing the path
as best he might. So when day broke, he
found himself on the confines of the Desert.
Then he accidentally tripped over a large stone,
and fell headlong into a small dell or hollow
in which were encamped ten sturdy little
vagabonds.
These were, as you may guess, the Giant's
Fragments, waiting, all ready, though they did n't
know anything about it, to do a good turn for
the Prince they were bent on avoiding; for,
whether he liked it or not, the good-natured
Giant was destined to be a good-natured Giant
to the end of his days. A giant of this sort
cannot hope to escape his fate by dodging
about the country in ten pieces.
When the Fragments of the Giant had re-
covered from their astonishment,- and well
might they feel surprised when they recognized
Prince Tesso,-they inquired, in chorus, what
the Prince meant by thrusting himself so un-
ceremoniously into the company of honest
travelers: who he was, whence he came, and
whither he was going?
The Prince's heart was very full, so he freely
told his story with what breath he had left in
his body after his long run. He even repeated
the ancient rhyme about the ten men who had
once been one:
"Till ten men who have once been one"-

At this point the Fragments of the Giant
might have been seen to scratch their ten pates
and to stare into vacancy. They were think-
ing,-thinking hard,-and it did n't come easily
to them; though, as ten heads are certainly bet-
ter than one, it was probably a less difficult job
for them than the Giant had found it in his un-
divided day.
"This is evidently a matter that requires our
attention," they said, after some deliberation.
" We can slay your Warbilow for you, your


Royal Highness. Shall we slay the Warbilow
for you, or shall we not? If you really want
the monster killed, we will undertake to put an
end to him with punctuality and despatch-on
one condition."
"Name it," eagerly cried the Prince.
"That you will release the good-natured
Giant of Pastangonia from a rash promise he
once made you. It had reference, we believe,
to a-well, to a conspiracy, let us say, which
you were hatching against your uncle."
I suppose the Giant is a friend of yours,"
said Prince Tesso, or you would n't take such
an interest in his affairs. But, anyhow, since
you wish it, he can consider that I give him
back his plighted word, though I really don't
know what has become of the fellow."
To be sure you don't," gleefully chor-
used the Fragments of the Giant, giving six
large grins and four smaller ones; "but that is
of no consequence at all,- and so we had bet-
ter be marching."
The Giant's Fragments fell in behind one an-
other in single file, while Prince Tesso took his
place at the head of the invading force. He
would n't on any account have walked in the
rear, though he certainly felt a little ashamed
of the pitchfork he had brought with him, and
wished it had been a jewel-hilted rapier instead.
Presently, as the procession moved across
the Cinder Desert, there was heard a flapping
of leather wings and an angry screaming, and
the Warbilow himself flew out into the open
from behind a dense thicket of cactus which
concealed the entrance to his nest.
The combat which ensued was short and
sharp. The Fragments of the Giant hacked
away with a will with the swords they carried,
attacking the Dragon Bird on all sides at once.
In five minutes the fight was over, and the
Warbilow had spread out his enormous wings,
and expired with gurglings which resembled a
distant thunder-storm.
Almost before life had left the body of the
monster, Prince Tesso pushed his way through
the cactus hedge.
In the Dragon Bird's cavern he discovered
his beloved Seena, pale with anxiety and fright,
but quite uninjured.
If you stay where you are, you will be lifted


[Nov.





A GIANT IN FRAGMENTS.


over the cactus hedge," shouted the Giant's
Fragments cheerily.
They had sheathed,their swords and drawn
themselves up in a line, and they now uttered,
all together, the magic word "Azziwaz."
The spell worked as a practical spell should
work, and on the instant there towered up be-
fore the Prince and Seena, but on the other side
of the hedge, the form of the good-natured Giant.
He reached over the prickly barrier, and taking
the lovers in one hand, drew them up and set
them down safely on his own side of the thicket.
"Your Royal Highness," said the Giant,


been highly uncomfortable on a hard, high-
backed throne, with a heavy crown on her
charming brow.
So the Giant went straightway home to his
castle, while the Prince and Seena returned to
the farm, where Seena's aged parents met them
with open arms. But, though he returned to
the farm, Prince Tesso did not intend to follow
agriculture as a calling for the future, as he saw
a quicker path to wealth before him.
He had the body of the dead Warbilow stuffed
by a skilful taxidermist, and with it he made a
tour of the principal towns of the kingdom, ex-


I'-
A>


*-'' ^'f' '
TH FIH W-..H T
THE FIGHT WITH THE WARBILOW.


politely, "you did well not to hold me to my
promise, I think. If I have n't boiled your
uncle, my Fragments have rescued your bride,
and we are therefore more than quits."
The Prince, besides being rather confounded
in his mind by the sudden reappearance of
the Giant, was too happy to argue the point;
and, truth to tell, he did n't really any longer
want anything unpleasant to happen to his
wicked relative. His ideas had undergone a
great change, and he was looking forward to
living the serene life of a private citizen with his
pretty Seena, who would, he well knew, have


hibiting the monster to gaping and delighted
crowds, and gathering in the ducats at the door.
In this manner he speedily amassed a large for-
tune, on which he and Seena lived happily ever
afterward.
As for the Giant, he continued to be as will-
ing as in the old time to assist his humbler
neighbors in Pastangonia, but there his good-
nature drew a line, for he had a board painted
with great black letters as long as his arm,
which he hung out on his battlements, and all
who passed by read the legend on this board:
"NO PRINCES NEED APPLY."




















THE SIREN.

BY HENRY BACON.


IT was proposed to give a concert for the
benefit of the shipwrecked.
All seconded the proposition with enthusi-
asm, because, since early morning when we
had picked up the half-dead boat-load, noth-
ing but "the shipwrecked" had been talked
about among the passengers on board "La
Bretagne." Yes, early that morning there had
been a great commotion aboard our steamer.
Everybody had tumbled up on deck at a
much earlier hour than usual, because of the
word that had been passed from the lookout
to the captain's bridge, and had somehow
quickly descended into the passengers' cabin,
that, in the distance, straight ahead, was an
open boat flying a signal of distress. And
that boat-load had been safely got aboard,
and was now comfortably stowed away in the
cabins. The doctor had reported that they
were out of danger, and, as he said, "All do-
ing well."
These unfortunates had belonged to a small
trading-schooner from Nova Scotia bound for
the Bermudas, "loaded with fresh eggs and po-
tatoes," so they told us. A gale had carried
the vessel far east, out of its course, and, as the
schooner sprang a leak, those on board were
obliged to abandon the vessel. The crew had
left their schooner in two boats; one of them
we had found, and, although the doctor had re-
ported "all doing well," some of the passengers
thought he was mistaken. They thought he
was mistaken because among the rescued was


a woman, and somehow, in leaving the sinking
vessel, this woman and her boy had been sepa-
rated. Her boy had been carried off in the
other boat, and she would not be comforted.
Some of our women passengers had taken her
under their care, supplied her with a change of
clothing, and brought her into the first-class
cabin. They had done all that was possible to
comfort her, and tried to assure "the mother,"
as we called her, that, as the storm was over
and the missing boat was directly in the track
of the ocean steamers, it would certainly be
picked up soon, if it had not already been
found. They declared that she was certain to
have news of her boy as soon as we entered
New York harbor.
But she would not be comforted. There she
lay in the corner of the cabin, quiet and sub-
missive, replying to questions in a soft voice-
almost a whisper but with wild, tearless eyes.
Surely the knowing ones were right when they
shook their heads and said: "She is not
'doing well.'"
But the concert. Dinner was over, and we
were gathered in the saloon. The program was
a good one, for we had a number of profes-
sional musicians aboard; and the music, instru-
mental and vocal, was very enjoyable. During
the last few hours a dense fog had enveloped
the ship, and the "siren," or steam fog-horn,
on the foremast blew every thirty seconds.
It made an ugly noise-a long screech, that
could be heard many rods through the fog.







THE SIREN.


It was to warn other ships out of our course, times, but especially so at night, as one lies in

It sounded odd in the cabin, at times in ac- his berth; for it is a danger-signal. But it is

cord, but oftener in discord, with the music, strange how soon one becomes accustomed to


"THE FIRST MAN UP THE LADDER HAD IN HIS ARMS A WELL-WRAPPED BUNDLE.

and sometimes breaking in upon it in a very danger. Even the siren cannot keep us awake,
comical manner, if it does scream like a maniac while the steamer

The sound of the siren is disagreeable at all goes plowing through the waves.


i,
;r
.r .
c .1

-,i~










The program of the concert went on until we
came to a song one of my friends was singing,
and singing well. During this song I noticed
that "the mother," who had been lying list-
lessly against the cushions in the corner, ap-
parently heedless of what was going on, started
and sat up suddenly. She pushed her thick
black hair back of her ears, and, staring at the
singer, she listened intently. You all know the
song, perhaps have put it aside long ago la-
beled "chestnut"; but you should hear my
friend Walter sing it some dark night on the
ocean, with the hoarse voice of the siren as
an accompaniment:
Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep."
Siren. "On- ho- on."
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For thou, O Lord, hast power to save! "
Siren. "On-ho-on-on-"

The siren continued; it did not stop, as usual;
and we all started, forgetting the singer, who
in turn forgot to sing.
Then the sound of the commandant's bell
joined the voice of the siren.
"Ding." The engines stopped.
"Ding." The engines were reversed.
There was one mad rush for the deck, "the
mother leading.
Then I knew she had not been listening to
Walt's song, but that her anxious ears, keener
than ours, must have heard the lookout's horn
-the horn he blows, as he stands in the ex-
treme bow, to notify the officer on the bridge
that he has discovered something-a ship,
iceberg or land-in the distance.
On deck there was a rushing to and fro, the
shrill notes of the bo's'n's whistle, and a group
of sailors already lowering a boat.
We soon learned that there had not been an
accident-that the ship was not going down,
but that a light had been seen, and was sup-
posed to belong to some small craft adrift.
We leaned over the rail and peered into the
darkness, shading our eyes, as we did so, from
the lights on board. Nothing was to be seen
in the inky blackness-only the strange sensa-
tion that the intense darkness was in motion.


There it is! cried a passenger near me.
"Where? Where? "
There! -almost astern."
Yes, now I could see it-a small light, a
mere dot, swinging violently.
Now it was gone, and again it appeared,
somewhat dimmer, but still swinging.
Again the shrill, authoritative bo's'n's whistle,
more shouts of command, and our boat is off,
with six men at the oars, an officer at the tiller,
and a man in the bow swinging a lantern.
We could see quite distinctly, now that our
eyes had become accustomed to the darkness.
Never was there a crowd more silent than that
which leaned over the steamer's rail, watching
and waiting. No one dared even to whisper
to his neighbor, fearing to miss the slightest
sound from the deep. Our boat went rapidly
astern, and we could see the swinging of the
lantern each time it rose upon a wave. The
lanterns were approaching; they stopped swing-
ing; now they were together, and over the
water we could distinguish a faint cry of joy.
And what a shout went up in reply from
those on board our steamer! Men, women,
and children, French, Spanish, and Americans,
burst forth in one prolonged, glad shout, that
was not drowned by the siren as it joined in
the rejoicing.
No one had questioned, no one on board
had doubted, who were in the wandering boat;
but when ours came back into sight again, we
cheered it, and when we heard an answering
cheer from the water, echoing our voices, we
cheered again and again. The stray boat had
been abandoned after cutting a hole with an
ax through the bottom; for it was not worth
the time and trouble of saving, and the crew
had been taken on board the steamer's boat,
that soon came under our lee.
How we crowded to get near the ladder, and
how we strained our eyes in the semi-darkness,
as we leaned over the rail, to discover what
was aboard!
Yes, we all expected just what happened.
The first man up the ladder had in his arms a
well-wrapped bundle. None .of us asked what
he carried, nor did "the mother," ready to re-
ceive the burden. All had made way for her,
as if it were her right to stand nearest the


[Nov.


THE SIREN.






THE SIREN.


gangway; and as she snatched the bundle
from the sailor, there came out of it a little
pair of arms that encircled the woman's
neck.
Then we lost our interest in the rest of the
saved; there was a great deal of trouble hoist-
ing them on board, as they were weak; but we
did not care much-they were saved, that was
enough for us. Our chief interest was in the
boy.
The concert had been forgotten; the smok-
ing-room was packed after we were under way
once more, and each and all had a theory to
expound how those two boats could have
drifted so far apart. Some declared they had
encountered different winds; others insisted it
was due to ocean currents.
Walter and I left the smoking-room with the
theories about the winds and currents still pro-
gressing, and went into the saloon. The occu-
pants, mostly women, sat in groups upon the
sofas, talking in undertones. Why? I asked
myself; but, looking across the cabin, I easily
understood, for there lay "the mother" with


the boy, his head upon her shoulder, and both
were fast asleep.
Some thoughtful one had carefully covered
them with a rug, and had moved up a chair
filled with cushions to prevent them from rolling
off the sofa. The boy's face was hidden, but
the mother's could be seen, although turned
away; there was a smile upon her lips. On the
piano was the music, open as it had been left
when the concert had been so abruptly inter-
rupted by the siren, an hour before. Walter sat
down before the piano, touched the keys of the
instrument gently, and in a low voice sang,
slightly changing the original:
"I knew Thou would'st not slight my call,
For Thou did'st mark the sparrow's fall;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep."
When Walter ceased, I am sure, excepting
the sleepers, there were no dry eyes in the Bre-
tagne's cabin. And the siren, still sounding, for
we were on "the Banks," had changed its note.
It was no longer moaning, for it had gone up an
octave higher, and was rejoicing boisterously.





















BY OLIVER HERFORD.


PROFESSOR PIKE-
STAFFE, Ph. D.,
While wandering over
land and sea,
Once on the plains of
Timbuctoo
Met a giraffe.

"Why, how d'ye
do !"
Exclaimed the amiable Pikestaffe.
" I 'm really charmed, my dear Giraffe!
I 've thought so much of you of late,
Our meeting seems a stroke of Fate
Particularly fortunate.
I long have had upon my mind
Something concerning you; be kind


Enough to seat yourself, and pray
Excuse, if what I have to say
Seems personal!"


"My dear Pikestaffe,
I shall be charmed," said the Giraffe,
To hear whatever you may say.
You are too kind; go on, I pray."

"Well, then," said Pikestaffe, "to
resume,
You are aware, sir, I presume,
That though with your long neck
at ease
You crop the leaves upon the
trees,
Your legs are quite too long, and
make
It difficult for you to slake
Your thirst-in other words,
you 've found
Your neck too short to reach the
ground.
Indeed, I 've often wept to think
How hard it is for you to drink.


h~






THE GEOMETRICAL GIRAFFE.


"To right a wrong we must, of course,
First try to ascertain the source;
And in this case we find the cause
In certain geometric laws,
Which I will quickly demonstrate
(How lucky that I brought my slate!).

" Well, to begin, let line A B


Be your front legs; then line A C
(A shorter line) your neck shall be.
Measured, 't will only reach so far,
When bent down toward the ground, as R.


Then R's your head stretched down, and shows
How far the ground lies from your nose-
Though if the ground lay not at B,
But R, you 'd reach it easily.
Suppose it then at R to lie,
And draw for ground line D R I.
Your head then touches ground at R-
But now your feet go down too far!
My compasses then I will lay
On A and B, and make round A
A circle crossing line D I
At two points. Mark them X and Y;
Then draw from X and Y to A
Two lines; then it is safe to say
That line A X and line A Y
SEqual A B, being radii
Of the same circle, as you see
(According to geometry).
But since at first we did agree
A B your length of leg should be,
These, being equal to A B,
Are just the same as legs, you see.
So now on legs A X, A Y,
You stand upon the ground D I,
And drink your fill; for, as I said,
D I is touched by R, your head.
Thus we have proved-"


What happened here
Professor Pikestaffe has no clear
Impression, but the little row
Of stars above will serve to show






THE GEOMETRICAL GIRAFFE.


What madly reeled before his eyes,
As he went whirling to the skies.
Below he heard a mocking laugh,
That seemed to come from the Giraffe:
"Go up! go up! You 've proved enough;
You 've proved geometry is stuff!
You 've proved, till I am well nigh dead,
And feel a thumping in my head,
That I must spread my feet apart
To take a drink-why, bless your heart!


I knew that long ere you were born.
I laugh geometry to scorn."


Professor Pikestaffe, Ph. D.,
They say, has dropped geometry-
It seems he dropped his slate as well,
Which lies exactly where it fell
(Also the diagram he drew)
Upon the plains of Timbuctoo.













WINTER AT THE ZOO.


BY ELIZABETH F. BONSALL.


HE Zoo, on a winter
S day, wears a very dif-
,,:. ferent aspect from that
l ,' which it presents during
S the summer months when
V 'so many people find it a
source of pleasure and
profit. And yet it has its
charms, too; it is a great
mistake to imagine that in winter the animals
are asleep most of the time, and that it is use-
less to go to the zoological gardens then be-
cause there will be but deserted cages and
empty ponds to look at.
For those who truly love animals, and wish
to study their habits, there is no better time to
visit the Zoo than a day in winter. -The absence
of the noisy crowd makes the animals quite at
their ease, and by standing a few minutes per-
fectly still before the cage they seem to forget
your presence, and you can observe their habits
at leisure.
I noticed this particularly one winter's day as
I was sketching in the bird-house; the snow
was falling fast outside, but the brilliant plum-
age of the cockatoos, macaws, and parrots, with
a summer temperature, would have made any
one forget the storm and imagine one's self in
the tropics.
Presently I began to separate the different
voices from the general clamor which had
greeted my advent, and tb trace -them to their
owners. How curious the result was! A plain
bird with greenish feathers and a yellow bill
had a cry that I could liken to nothing but
a child's tin cart being drawn rapidly over a
gravel walk, ending up with a long-drawn
squeak. Then a parrot would say, "Hello!"
in a surprised tone, or some bird at the other
end of the building would charm one with his


whistle. How few people pause long enough to
hear any of this concert!
And how funny the parrots and cockatoos
can be when they are not all begging the visi-
tors for peanuts! One cockatoo devoted her-
self to having some fun with her dish of water;
she took hold of the edge nearest to her, and,
lifting it, dropped it suddenly as if to enjoy see-
ing the water splash. Of course the returning
wave washed over on her feet, and it was very
funny to see how she stepped back, and looked
sideways, first at her toes and then at the dish,
as if to say, "Why! how did that happen?"
After an interval of thought she tried it again,
and, profiting by experience, proudly stepped
to one side when the water came her way, and
so succeeded in her attempt to empty the dish
without wetting her feet.
Some of them are troubled with a queer dis-
ease which makes them eat their feathers off,
and you may imagine the comical effect of
















POLLY IS NOT FEELING WELL.

these poor birds as they sit shivering on the
perch with perhaps only their gorgeous head-
and tail-feathers on; but it never seems to make






WINTER AT THE ZOO.


i4











"THE TIGER WILL GAZE INTENTLY AT THE
SNOWY LANDSCAPE."

one bit of difference to their friends in
cage. They are not like those foolish hur
beings who judge people by their clothes.
A very amusing crow lives in captivity h
He was brought in when he was very yot
and has since picked up quite a vocabu
from the visitors and the birds around him.

N :- -l



S .. "


"good" that made the remark seem conde-
scending.
With the first cool nights of autumn, prepara-
tions are begun for making the tropical animals
and birds comfortable during our hard winter.
A curious cage on wheels is brought out, and
into this the animal is coaxed by the kindly
persuasion of a carrot or other favorite article
of food, and then drawn comfortably to its win-
ter quarters. This is always an exciting time
for the children: they run along by the side of
the cage and watch with the greatest eagerness
the process of placing the box in position; and
when the final opening of the door liberates
the frightened beast, the yells and shrieks
which greet its entrance to its winter lodging
are enough to give it nervous fidgets. The
gnu, although it has passed many winters and
summers in the garden, grows very much ex-
cited at such times; and if it could get out I
think it would make great havoc among its
small tormentors.
I do not think that the lions and tigers no-
tice much difference between summer and win-
K- ter. Of course they do not have the summer
cages with their rocks and trees to range in;
but their house is warm, and plants and run-
ning fountain do their best to hide the dismal
the fact that it is winter. Sometimes a tiger will
nan sit motionless for a long time gazing intently
through the windows at the snowy landscape.
ere. Do you think he ever wonders what can change
ing, the color of the outer world so completely ?
lary The cage of the young lions seems almost
It too small to hold them all when they are play-



,,- .-- ..
,-. 'J ll._ ....'''''' ',, r_ ,
-" i := .: '.' .''
~ ~ ii oL .% ,' .,


YOUNG LION ASLEEP.


was strange to hear his gruff voice answering ing together with wooden balls, like cannon-
the familiar "Hello!" of the parrots with balls, which go banging from one end of the
"Well, good-by," with an emphasis on the cage to the other, or are gnawed by the lions.


[Nov.







But wait until fatigued by their
play and violent exercise, they
drop off to sleep; the space is
large enough then for the lions
to throw themselves into the
most amusing attitudes. There
is one sprawling on his back, his
legs flung wide in the air as you
have seen tired babies lie; and
here another, dreaming of the
play, twitches his legs as if he
were springing in his sleep to
catch the vagrant ball.
Very dignified and stately
are the old lion and lioness, and
the lions in the next cage, who
wait patiently, with grave faces,
for the one event in their long
day--their meal-time. Although
the fare is never varied summer
or winter, it is always acceptable;
indeed the only thing they ob-
ject to is the amount, which
apparently is never equal to their
appetites.
The keeper seems to agree
with some doctors that liquids


WINTER AT THE ZOO. 49








-A2




.




















should never be drunk during a meal,
for the animals are not served with
-, water until the bones are scraped and
polished by their rough tongues, and
even the floor licked clean; then the
\ t- keeper goes around with a watering-
Spot and tin pans, filling for each in
turn until all are satisfied. One of
Ithe tigers always puts her mouth to
the spout and laps from the stream
as it falls, seeming to think it tastes
fresher taken in that way than when
lapped from the pan below.
Some of the animals take care of
themselves at the approach of the
** winter. The badgers dig frantically in
S'tpolhe earth, throwing up a perfect foun-
tain of sand behind them until they
Shave long burrows, to which they retire
*on cold or stormy days; but every
....... on cold or stormji days; but every


VOL. XX.-4.






WINTER AT THE ZOO.


MEAL-TIME.


gleam of sunshine woos them to the surface, vantage in winter than in summer; the moose
and they run up and down the cage begging and the reindeer seem more lively, and, I think,
for peanuts, as in summer. One of them has would be glad to have it colder than it ever
a cunning trick that he taught
himself; on reaching the end of
the cige he turns a half somer-. .4
sault, rolls to one side and rises
faced right for the return trip. i-
This rarely fails to win a reward .
from the admiring visitor.
The beavers go to sleep in
their huts under the water, and --"-
the foxes and prairie-dogs dig
their burrows deeper and retire
A SLEEPING LIONESS.
from the upper world, although,
like the badger, they reappear on sunny days. is in this latitude. The frozen, snow-covered
One sees some of the animals to a better ad- stretches of Canada and Lapland are more to


Ikr,







J?


~ '\'


`.9

kc~
.~9
---~c--


THE GNU,





WINTER AT THE ZOO.


THE REINDEER.
their liking than the yards of the Zoo, even on
the coldest days.
The reindeer came all the way across the
seas, accompanied by his mate and little one,
with a great bag of their favorite moss to
supply them with food until they should have
become accustomed to American hay and pea-
nuts. The taste for pea-
nuts seems soon to fas-
ten itself upon every


at least; but it might
happen that the seals.
would not care for him
as a guest. They are
l a happy family among
p themselves, and sit with
their heads poked up
I) I[1 through the ice, calling
('I 1 for their dinner with
quite as much appetite
as in summer.
S The lake for water-
fowl is not as crowded
with inhabitants as we
Share accustomed to see
"'. .'.. it, many having been
sheltered in buildings;
but it still presents a
lively appearance with swans and ducks of all
varieties disporting themselves in the little space
of water kept open for them. They never seem
to feel their toes grow cold, however long
they stand on the ice or swim in the water.
Some of the ducks from China look as if
they had wrapped themselves up in red flan-


I I 1 !


creature that enters the "
gates, except the flesh- /
eating animals; and in ll"
a short time the reindeer l/
came pressing their soft
noses through the bars to i
beg for peanuts quite as
eagerly as the monkeys. .
The polar bear is an- -
other who does not find t'/t,(
it quite cold enough to I
suit him; he has an ice-
water bath and a den
in the north side of a
hill, but he still looks as
if he were longing for _- -
more snow, and I think "
that nothing would really
content him but a cave
THE POLAR BEAR.
in an iceberg. Perhaps,
if one were to introduce him to the seal-ponds, nel to protect their legs and heads from
he might find himself in congenial company, rheumatism; but I shall have to let you into






WINTER AT THE ZOO. [Nov.
long at least, is brought from his outside pond
Sand put into this tank to spend the winter. He
is a model of patience, and allows the little
turtles and alligators to form pyramids on his
back without a protest; but then he goes sound
asleep at the beginning and never rouses until
spring comes, so maybe he does not even feel
them.
The little alligators are more lively, and do
not get on very well with the snakes, with whom
they are sometimes placed.
I once saw a very funny combat between a
baby alligator and a tiny snake. Quite a num-
b er of both were in a glass tank provided with
a small pond, rocks, and growing plants. You
would have thought it a perfect nursery for the
babies to grow and be happy in.
/ But while this thought was passing through
my mind I saw an alligator make a sudden snap
i as a little snake was slipping over him, and in
.r. a moment the poor little thing found his head


IN THE REPTILE-HOUSE.
the secret that this is their summer dress as
well; they have, poor things, only one suit for
the entire year!
There is one building where perpetual sum-
mer reigns. On the coldest of January days the
new reptile-house is filled with blooming plants
and sunshine, the roof of the house is made partly
of glass like a conservatory, and there stand the
glass cases for the tropical snakes. Trees and
plants grow in the soil at the bottom, there is


MAKING THEMSELVES COMFORTABLE.


water to bathe in, and the sun pours down upon held tight between the needle-like teeth of the
the cases all day long, so they have natural alligator. Wriggle and twist as he might, he
heat besides the artificial heat in the building. could not get away. In vain he tried to choke
his enemy by closely
encircling his neck; the
alligator held his head
perfectly rigid, and fin-
ally shut his eyes with
an air of self-satisfaction,
as if it were a most
,ordinary thing for him
to have a snake tying
double bowknots around
-his neck.
WHICH WINS? After a long time,
either because he forgot
In the center is the alligator- and turtle-tank, his prize and yielded to a desire to yawn, or
surrounded by palms. One old alligator, six feet because he thought the presumption of the





WINTER AT THE ZOO.


THE INDIAN ADJUTANT.
snake in crawling over him had been suffi- of his summer wading-place; his head is
ciently punished, the baby alligator opened his sunk in a great ruff of feathers, which gives
jaws, and away went the snake, seemingly none him the appearance of shrugging his shoulders.
the worse for his adventure. The only thing that seems to disturb his rev-
The monkeys ought to have just such a erie is the quarreling of his neighbors the peli-
sunny home as this, cans with the crowned
and I hope that some ] cranes who keep house
day it will be built for next to them, and who
them. Now they have a occasionally discuss
roomy yet rather dark matters over the front
building, but they play fence. Then, stretch-
their merry pranks, steal
peanuts, and chase each
other around the cages
without the least envy
of the palace of the
snakes so close by. They
all seem to have very
happy dispositions, and
are cheerful amid any i
surroundings.
Quite a contrast to
them is the melancholy
Indian adjutant, who is I
very much of a misan-
thrope. Hour after hour '"
he stands meditating in
the pan of water given I i -
him to supply the want THE CROWNED CRANE AND THE PELICANS.


1892.]







54 WINTER AT THE ZOO. [Nov.
ing out his head, the adjutant displays a length little family who never knew what winter was
of bare neck which is surprising, and, clapping in their native land. They gaze out on the
his long beak very rapidly, he effectually drowns strange white world in large-eyed wonder-at
all other noise and generally drives the visitors least the parents do, for the baby Indian ante-
out of the place quite deafened. How funny lope is only a few weeks old, and the hay-strewn


04'"
*r .


.' *' A


INDIAN ANTELOPE.


a group of these old fellows can be! They re-
mind one of a consultation of doctors over a
case of severe illness; with hands tucked under
their coat-tails, their bald heads shaking as if
to say, No hope, really; we have done every
thing that can be done."
In one of the warmest buildings is a happy


room in which the little creature frisks about
is the whole world to it.
They are wonderfully graceful animals, and
one wonders how any body can have the heart
to chase and kill them, even for food.
Some hardy American relatives of theirs, the
Rocky Mountain goats in an adjoining cage,





WINTER AT THE ZOO.


iili

7 1
4
L'


ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS LIKE DOLLS.


are less attractive, though they create much
amusement by their appetites; for, after the
peanuts are all gone, the paper bag will be
quite as acceptable, and one day a little girl
was seen in front of their cage, watching, in
helpless agony, the disappearance of her favor-
ite doll seized by these insatiable animals.
Time would fail to tell of the appliances


used for the winter comfort of the many animals
sheltered at the Zoo-the sprinkler for the
rhinoceros, the tepid bath for the tapir, and
the winter arrangements for such out-of-door
animals as the buffaloes, camels, elks, etc.; so
my only hope is that some day, either in winter
or in summer you will visit the Zoalogical Gar-
dens and see it all for yourselves.


r


Ul l' z~i




































By FRANK VALENTINE.



'T WAS General Swift Runoffski Dadley,-
A striking name, as many would say-
(Of what nation he was, it might puzzle one sadly
To .fully determine.- Be that as it may,
Whether English, American, French, or Russian,
It signifies little to this discussion).


'T was General Swift Runoffski Dadley,
A proud and a pompous man was he-
But one thing, alas! he managed badly:
He never could gain a victory.
Though he fought many battles, and far and wide,
He always was found on the losing side.


Said his wife full often, and eyed him sadly,
" It 's a wearisome trouble and grief to me,
To think you should always be whipped so badly,
Instead of gaining a victory.
Beat some one, beat something don't beaten be,
Or never come back to the baby and me!"





GENERAL DADLEY.


Off he marched once more, the doughty Dadley,
Looking as proud as proud could be;
And the loving young wife awaited him gladly,
(Though some misgivings, no doubt, had she.)
"Well, dear, did you beat?" "Well, yes, my sweet-
We-we-beat, we-we-beat, we-we-beat a retreat."





f:' 7-

I~d _^ */\


JACK FROST.

BY RUTH HALL.


JACK FROST passed this way last night,
And nipped, with saucy fingers,
Every gold and scarlet leaf
That on my maple lingers.


He scratched a message on the pane-
A hint more kind than courtly:
" Better see to fires and flowers
I '11 be back here shortly! "























BY J. L. HARBOUR.


ONE day, when I was a boy, Jack Dilloway
came over to our house with something he
called a scheme."
Jack's schemes were always of a kind cal-
culated to contribute to Jack's enjoyment of
life. His parents sometimes said regretfully
that about all Jack thought of was "a good
time." But now that they are old people with
Jack's children calling them "Grandpa" and
" Grandma," it must be pleasant for them--and
for Jack, too-to remember that Jack's pursuit
of boyish enjoyment never led him into doing
anything cruel, or malicious, or wicked.
Everybody liked Jack, mischievous little tike
though he was. His love of fun manifested itself
strongly in a pair of big, twinkling blue eyes,
and a mouth with lips parted in an almost per-
petual smile, showing two rows of uneven teeth.
His face was as freckled as a turkey's egg,
and he had curly brown hair that he seldom
"had time" to keep in order. He lived on a
farm divided from the farm on which I lived
only by what we called the "big road,"
although it was but an ordinary highway.
The Dilloway farm-house was within three
hundred yards of my father's house, and Jack
and I were much together. I was but four
days older than Jack, and we were fourteen
years old at the time of which I write.
I, too, had a boyish love of fun, but I was
less imaginative than Jack, and less fertile in
"schemes" for having "no end of fun," as
Jack said.
"I '11 tell you what we '11 do," said Jack,


his blue eyes twinkling in pleased anticipation,
" and it '11 be jolly good fun. See if you don't
say so. Did you know that there was going to
be a big circus in town on the fourteenth ?"
No; really?"
"Yes, sir; honest. Our hired man has just
come from town, and he saw them putting up
the bills. He says it looks as though it '11 be
a mighty big thing if they do even half they 've
got down on the bills. They 're going to have
two rings./"
Two rings?"
"Yes, sir; and something going on in both
of 'em all of the time. Won't that be great?"
I should say so. But what's that got to do
with your scheme?"
"Everything. If it was n't for the circus I
would n't have thought of the scheme. You 're
going to the circus ? "
Of course I was. Every farmer's boy in that
neighborhood would be at the circus. It meant
more than even the Fourth of July to us. The
moment Jack said "circus," I thought, with
great satisfaction, of the two dollars and a
half I had that day received for a calf I had
sold, and I said:
"Of course, if there 's a circus, I 'm going
to it."
"So am I," said Jack, promptly. "What do
you say to our making a little money out of it?"
How ? "
"Easy as rolling off a log. Have you ever
heard of anybody keeping a. refreshment-stand
at a circus ?"






JACK DILLOWAY'S SCHEME.


Of course I have."
"What 's to hinder two smart fellows like
Jack Dilloway and Ned Dawson from setting
up in a little business of that sort ? "
Is that your scheme ?"
"That's my scheme."
He waited for a moment for me to realize
the full magnitude of it before he added:
I believe we could do very well with a little
scheme of that sort, Ned. And it would be
great fun, too. Then it would be jolly to have
just all the lem'nade and gingerbread and pea-
nuts and things of that sort we wanted to eat;
would n't it ?"
"We 'd have to have a pretty big stock if
we ate all we wanted, and had anything left to
sell," I said. "But how could we go to the
circus and keep a refreshment-stand at the
same time ?"
"Why, we could go to the circus at night.
It 's much better at night, anyhow. And re-
freshment-stands never do much business in the
evening at a circus. We 'd be all sold out by
six o'clock. I just believe we could make a
big thing out of it."
I was of a less sanguine temperament than
Jack; nevertheless his "scheme" pleased me.
We sat down on a log of wood in my father's
stable-yard to talk the thing over," and our
enthusiasm increased as we talked. Jack
brought out a stub of lead-pencil, and "figured
the whole thing up on a new pine shingle.
He made it appear that his little scheme
would net each of us as much as ten or twelve
dollars -
To say nothing of the fun we '11 get out of
it," he added. I '11 yell out, Lem'nade! here
you are, ladies and gentlemen! ice-cold lem'-
nade, right here in the shade, and only five
cents a glass! Walk up, chalk up, any way to
get up, ladies and gentlemen! A piece of ice
in every glass! This way for your ice-cold
lem'nade at five cents a glass!'"
Jack stood up on the log, and screeched this
out so vigorously that my mother put her head
out of our kitchen window and said:
"Why, Jack, are you going crazy? Why
are you making all that noise ? "
Oh, Ned and I are going into bizness, and
we 're just practisin' up for it," replied Jack.


"Are you going to start out as auctioneers?
I can think of no other business requiring such
lung-capacity as you are exhibiting."
Our parents finally gave their consent to the
carrying out of Jack's little scheme, and we were
in great glee.
I had almost five dollars in my little tin
bank, and Jack had about the same amount.
We invested that morning in lemons, sugar,
peanuts, and a box of peppermint-candy kisses
with very affectionate sentences on them in pink
letters. We knew that this kind of candy was
in great demand at a circus.
My mother was kind enough to make us a
lot of nice gingerbread, and Jack's mother made
us a great panful of tempting-looking sugar
cookies with a plump raisin in the center of
each.
Then we had what we did not see on any of
the other refreshment-stands, and that was great
pyramids of beautiful red June apples that we
had polished until they looked like glass.
Apples of this kind were very scarce in our
neighborhood that year, and Jack's father was
the only man we knew of who had any. He
had two trees hanging full of them, and he had
given us a whole bushel on condition that Jack
and I should weed out a certain onion-patch
of his.
We had gladly agreed to do this, and the first
new apples of the summer graced our refresh-
ment-stand.
We had gone to the grounds the day before
the circus and put up our stand in what we felt
sure would be a good place; and we were on
the spot very early the next morning covering
our counter with clean white table-cloths, and
arranging our stock in trade.
The pretty red apples we arranged in three
pyramids, one at each end and one in the cen-
ter of the table. The peanuts we put into little
brown-paper bags, and the candy we displayed
in two glass fruit-dishes borrowed from our
mothers' pantries.
The glasses for the lemonade also came from
our home pantries. We set them out in a shin-
ing row in front of our counter. At the sugges-
tion of my mother we had put two big bouquets
of wild flowers between the pyramids of apples,
and Jack told the truth when he stepped back,






JACK DILLOWAY'S SCHEME.


with arms akimbo and head twisted to one
side, surveying the complete result of our labor,
and said:
"I tell you, Ned, it just looks sniptious!
There is n't a neater-looking stand on the circus
grounds. Those apples will sell like hot cakes.
You know how fond everybody is of the first
new apples that come out. I 'm glad red
'Junes' are so scarce this year. I believe we 'd
better sell them three for five cents instead of
four. I tell you those bouquets are the finishing
touch, are n't they ? "
They do set off the counter," I replied. I
should n't wonder if they helped to draw trade."
If they don't, the way I 'm going to call out
by and by will."
This was very early in the day, even before
the tents had been raised, although the circus
wagons had arrived and the circus men were
hard at work on the two rings, and getting the
great tents ready to be put up.
But every boy in Gastonville and from a
great part of the surrounding country seemed
to be on the circus grounds.
There was no railroad in the town, and many
of the boys had walked three or four miles into
the country to meet the circus as it came from
the next town in its own wagons.
We knew many of the boys, and they began
to manifest great friendship for us when they
discovered that we were keeping a refreshment-
stand. They assembled in front of our counter
with cordial greetings of friendship, such as-
Hello, Ned "
"Hello, Jack! "
How 're you, Ned ?"
How goes it, Jack? "
We replied respectfully but a little coldly to
these cordial salutations; for when we saw the
boys approaching, Jack said in a low tone to
me:
I '11 tell you what it is, Ned, bizness is one
thing aid friendship 's another, and we've got
to run this stand on strictly bizness principles,
or fail up before noon."
I appreciated the good sense of this remark,
and I said:
That's a fact, Jack. If we treat one we've
got to treat another."
"That's it," replied Jack, heartily. "We 'd


soon be at the bottom of our lem'nade bar'l,
and have no money to show for it. We '11 just
have to let the boys know from the start that
we mean bizuess."
When we made this apparent to our youthful
friends, they suddenly grew cold in their de-
meanor, and withdrew one by one after making
unpleasant remarks about our lack of generos-
ity, some of the boys going so far as to say
that they felt quite sure that we would charge
our own grandmothers for even looking at our
"old lemonade"; and they further added that
our lemonade looked very second class," any-
how,-to all of which we replied by saying
briefly but decidedly: Bizness is bizness,
boys."
We did not expect to do much business until
after the "grand street parade" at ten o'clock.
The streets of the town were lined with people
who would come out to the circus grounds after
the parade, and then the real business of the
day would begin for us.
We would be compelled to miss the joy of
following the procession through the town, but
we congratulated ourselves that our stand was
so located that we could witness the starting and
the return of the parade.
Two enormous elephants, caparisoned with a
great display of crimson velvet and trappings
of gold and silver tinsel, were to lead the pro-
cession. A silken canopy, upheld by rods of
gold, rose high above the cushioned back of
each elephant, and under these canopies were
to ride "a bevy of brilliantly beautiful Circas-
sian maidens," as the flaming posters on the
fences said.
The elephants had been arrayed in their gor-
geous trappings, but the "brilliantly beautiful"
ladies had not appeared when the elephants
were led out to a spot directly in front of our
stand to wait until the rest of the procession
was made up.
The keeper of the elephants, arrayed in gor-
geous but not very clean Oriental finery, led
the two huge animals out to within ten feet of
our stand, and then returned to the tent for
something, after cautioning two or three hun-
dred wildly excited boys to "just let those ele-
phants alone."
But the boys, heedless of this command,





JACK DILLOWAY'S SCHEME.


threw peanuts and candy to the elephants, and
suddenly Jack said:
I 'm going to toss them one of these apples,
and see how they like it."
They liked the apples very well-alas, too
well! After tasting the apples they paid no
heed to the nuts and candy offered them, but
kept their little black eyes fixed on our apples
while the one nearest us reached his long pro-
boscis out for more.
Jack gave him one, which he swung lightly


although Jack and I fumed and threatened, we
were both afraid to go near the animals, and
there they stood rapidly stowing away every-
thing on the stand, while the crowd of unsym-
pathetic small boys yelled and screeched with
excitement.
Finally I ran toward the tent in search of the
keeper, whom I met coming out of the dressing-
room.
"Your old elephants are eating up our re-
freshment-stand!". I shrieked excitedly. "Come


"THERE WON'T BE A THING LEFT IN TWO MINUTES!


into his trunk; and then, to our horror and un-
speakable amazement, he and his mate stepped
forward as our first patrons and greedily began
devouring our stock, without even the courtesy
of asking the price of anything.
Get out of here!" shrieked Jack, jumping up
and down in his wrath and dismay behind the
counter. Go away! Clear out of this! Let
those apples alone! Let those cakes be!"
Run for the keeper !" I shrieked. "There
won't be a thing left in two minutes! Get out
of this!"
But the great beasts did not get out "; and


and get them away-quick! Hurry up, or
there won't be a thing left!"
The keeper quickened his pace, and just as
we reached the stand Jack threw up his hands
despairingly and said:
"Great Scott, Ned! one of 'em has run his
horrid old proboscis clear to the bottom of our
lemonade-barrel! And look at that stand! Is
there anything left ? I couldfight, I 'm so mad!
Just look at that stand! "
There was n't much but the stand left for me
to look at. A single ginger-cake and three or
four cookies were all we had left, while many of






JACK DILLOWAY S SCHEME.


the apples had disappeared. One of the ele-
phants, grabbing greedily at a loaf of ginger-
bread after the arrival of the keeper, caught a
fold of the table-cloth in his proboscis, and
thus cleared the stand of everything on it, the
glassware coming to the ground with a crash.
Somebody 's got to pay for this!" said Jack,
with a suggestion of a sob in his voice that one
could forgive even in a boy of fifteen under the
circumstances.
It is n't my fault," said the keeper of the
elephants, carelessly.
"Whose fault is it, then?" I asked indig-
nantly. If you 'd stayed with the elephants,
you could have kept them away from our
stand!"
There were hot tears on my cheeks as I
spoke, but they made no impression on the
keeper. He led the elephants away from our
stand, and ten minutes later the procession
started, leaving Jack and me amid the ruins
of our stock in trade.

We have laughed a great deal over the affair
since, but we did n't laugh any at the time. There
were tears in our eyes, our lips quivered, and we
choked back our sobs as we went about gathering
up an apple here, a bag of peanuts there, and
the few whole pieces of glassware we had left.
"We might as well pack up our things and
go home," said Jack.
In the midst of our grief a stout, elderly man,
with a black-velvet vest and an enormous gold
watch-chain with a big red seal dangling from
it, came along, and eyed us and our stand curi-
ously for a moment.
"What 's the matter here?" he said as he
came up and leaned on our counter.
"Everything 's the matter!" said Jack, tear-
fully. Here we put over ten dollars into
things for a refreshment-stand, besides all our
folks gave us, and the old circus elephants came
along and ate up almost everything and smashed
up the rest! They even spoiled our barrel of
lemonade, and we have n't even got money
enough to go into the circus!"


You say that the circus elephants did this ?
Where was their keeper at the time ? "
"He left them here in the road while he
went back to the tent for something, and they
marched right up here, and ruined everything,"
said Jack, his wrath shining in his tear-dimmed
eyes.
The man asked us some more questions, and
the proprietor of a rival stand across the road
came over and corroborated all we had said.
Then the man took a lead-pencil and an
envelop from his pocket, and made a fair esti-
mate of the value of our stock and of the broken
glassware.
It amounts to about fourteen dollars," he
said. I suppose you would be willing to accept
that and a couple of tickets to the circus as pay-
ment in full for the damage done ? "
"Well, I guess we would! said Jack.
And the next moment we were staring in
open-mouthed amazement at a little pile of
bills and two thick yellow tickets lying on our
counter, while the man was walking back toward
the circus-tent.
Well, if he is n't a trump! said Jack, bring-
ing his fist down heavily on the counter.
He is that!" I said heartily.
"Is n't this great! Jack said, as he reached
out for the money. Seven dollars and a circus-
ticket apiece! Hooray, Neddy, my boy! I
just tell you, Ned, we were born in the lucky
time of the moon "
You did n't think so ten minutes ago."
"Well, I know so now; I just wonder who
he is."
We found out that afternoon, as we sat in
one of the best seats witnessing the "grand
entry" in the crowded circus-tent; for at that
time the man who had made good our loss rode
once or twice around the ring in an elegant
landau. He nodded his head toward Jack and
me when he saw us staring at him with open
eyes and mouths, and we heard a man behind
us say to his wife:
"That man in the carriage is the owner of
the whole thing."









<12
~


^KWT'pe'


By Price Collier.


E jIf I were Three,
And had a pink shell for an ear,
And trusted everything my eyes could see;
Then I should love, and laugh, and never fear,
If I were Three.


If I were Three,
With just a curled-up rose-leaf for a mouth,
And all a mother's love for certainty;
I should not care if winds blew north or south,
If I were Three.

If I were Three,
And all my poet asked for were a kiss,
And he protested that he loved but me;
I think I 'd give him one, when he brought this,
If I were Three.
S63


C.-s




























W E cannot ignore him, for he is our
nearest neighbor in his direction--
under our feet. Perhaps the fact that he
is opposite to us in location may pre-
pare you to learn that he is opposite
to us in many other respects.
wo 1 He studies from dawn till dark while
a boy, and walks on stilts, plays ball
and marbles, and flies kites when he is
a man. He is fond of fireworks, but
displays them principally by daylight.
He rides in boats drawn by men, and

carriage or a wheelbarrow, according
to one's mood) moved by sails. The
needle of his compass-the mariner's
compass being his own invention, by
the way-points to the south; and he
talks of the west-north or the east-
south," as the case may be. His own
name is likewise turned about. If he
is John Chinaman with us, he would
be Chinaman John at home. In school
he sits with his back to the teacher and
studies his lesson aloud. The ferule
reaches for him if he fails to study loud
enough. He dates his letters with the
year first, and begins to read on the
lower right-hand corner of the last page.
If John is mortally offended or insulted,
he does not attack his enemy as a
hot-headed American might do; but
kes h;S -~ 's/I K/


I _


A, .A b;., L


-7






OUR NEIGHBOR JOHN.


kills himself instead on the enemy's door-step,
and the mourning relatives don white to show
their grief.
When John wishes to pay special respect to
any one, he keeps his hat on and takes his
shoes off in that one's presence. When he
meets a friend he grasps and cordially shakes
his own hand, leaving the friend to do the
same for himself, instead of heartily per-
forming that operation for each other, as we


do. If so glad to see each other that hand-
shaking does not express their joy,, they rub
shoulders until tired out. John shaves, not his
face, but his head and eyebrows; he whitens
his shoes; he wears a long gown, and car-
ries a fan. He assumes the duties of milliner,
laundress, and dressmaker; he pays the doctor
as long as he is well, but stops payment as soon
as he is ill.
When John is of marriageable age he must
be satisfied with a bride whom he has not pre-
viously known; and the courtship is not ex-
pected to last more than three days. In this
way he runs little risk. of seeing himself cut out
VOL. XX.--5.


by a rival, and also avoids losing much time.
In the Lalos tribe of western China, the bride
perches herself on the highest attainable branch
of a large tree when the wedding morning ar-
rives, while the mother, grandmother, aunts, and
elderly female cousins, all armed with sticks,
cluster on the lower limbs. It is only when
John has earned her by successfully breaking
through this "picket-line and carrying her off,
that he is allowed to have his bride.


As a father, John idolizes his boys, but feels
keenly the disgrace brought by the advent of a
daughter. He does not consider her worthy
of a name, but calls her Number I, 2, or 3, as
the case may be. He ignores her entirely in
telling the number of his children, counting
only the boys. He considers her as without
mind or soul, and denies her the advantages of
education which her brother receives. As she
grows up she is a slave in her own and her
husband's house; and not till she is old does
she receive love and reverence.
If a child is taken sick, both John and his
wife think the soul has wandered away, and





OUR NEIGHBOR JOHN.


steps are taken to recall it. The mother calls
at the open door, "Soul, come home!" The
father goes out to seek it, usually searching
about-the nearest bridge. At his cry of Com-
ing, coming !" the mother looks carefully about
her floor and secures the first thing of life she
sees. This may be flea, or beetle, or other in-
sect, but is supposed to have within it the miss-
ing spirit. It is wrapped up and joyfully placed
under the pillow of the sick one, who is now
expected to recover forthwith. If death comes
instead, the child is buried summarily and with
scant ceremony. John considers his own cof-
fin one of the most valued and most necessary
pieces of furniture for his best room, and his
highest ambition is to have an elaborate funeral.
He and the older members of his household have
this ambition gratified in proportion to their
wealth and the number of their descendants.
As an inventor John has achieved some dis-
tinction, and has won for himself the name of
the "Yankee of the East." Besides the mariner's
compass, type, printing, paper, porcelain, silk,
gunpowder, and clocks are some of his alleged
discoveries. He has kept the knowledge of
these things to himself as much as possible,
scorning to give to those so much inferior to
him as he supposes other nations to be, the
knowledge which he has made his own. John
himself and his countrymen are celestialss," his
Emperor is the Son of Heaven"; why should he
stoop to benefit a people so much beneath him
as the inhabitants of England or the United
States! John's school-books give amusing tes-
-timony to the abundance of this national pride
and self-satisfaction. His geography allots nine-
tenths of the globe to China, about a square inch
to England, and no space at all to our
own great country! This same
self-conceit helps to ac-


count for the lack of progress noticeable in
John and his countrymen. For centuries they
held themselves quite apart from other nations.
At the same time, John's nation is, in its way,
an educated nation. All public offices are open
to the graduates of their colleges, without any dis-
tinction of class or creed. Brains and skill, rather
than money, are the highways to honor and office.
John's language is said to be the hardest of
all to learn. His alphabet has two hundred
and fourteen letters, and such complications of
tones and inflections that one word spoken in
ten different ways means ten different things.
As a business man John is not remarkable
for honesty, to say the least. One traveler as-
serts that the first Chinaman by whom he was
swindled was the first one with whom he had
any business transactions--and that the last
one who swindled him was the last native with
whom he had any dealings when he left the
country a year later.
John, as a soldier, is so brave that he goes to
a night attack with his lighted lantern. It may
expose his whereabouts to the enemy, to be
sure, but if hostile soldiers are to be dreaded,
much more the dark-in John's opinion.
John's religion? He has plenty-such as
it is. Every trade has its patron divinity. The
joss-houses have their idols by the dozen, and
John smokes and chats as he prays. As he has
only a single tongue, however, he must use some
device to do either the chatting or the praying.
So he prays by means of two sticks, half round,
determining by the way they fall whether or
not his prayer is granted. Or he prints his
prayer on a strip of red paper and pins it on
the wall near the door. At the proper time the
priest sends it, with other accumulated
prayers, up into the air on
the wings of fire.


























'I r



,' *. \ .




_,. ,__'. _,


"WE ALL 'S GWINE SWIMDIN' !"


- I. 4 /' U /'"'






"WE ALL 'S GWINE HOME!"
67





















By GUSTAV KOBBE.


WHEN the bugler
.<.,a sounds the first note
Sof "reveille," the cor-
poral of the guard
pulls the lanyard of
the morning gun, a
sullen boom rever-
berates on the air,
the Stars and Stripes
is run up, and the
iday at a United
States army post has
begun.
Here are the notes of the reveille:
Quick.

.... % O
TLi L~ I f-


END.


D.C,



The soldiers have adapted words to the best-
known bugle-calls, and those which go with
reveille are:
We can't get 'em up !
We can't get 'em up !
We can't get 'em up
In the morning!

The soldier who is not roused by reveille,
which is derived from a French verb meaning
to awaken, must be a very sound sleeper; for


any one who has visited at an army post knows
that it is impossible to sleep with the bugler
blowing a blast under your window and that
dreadful gun going off. There is a tradition at
Fortress Monroe, where a large hotel stands in
range of the gun, that the soldiers formerly
took delight in ramming turf down upon the
charge, so as to make the report all the louder
and more disturbing.
At reveille, which is sounded any time be-
tween 5.30 and 6.30 A. M., the soldiers tumble
out of bed, dress hastily, fall in ranks for roll-
call, answer to their names, and are dismissed
for breakfast. Meanwhile the officer of the
day-the only officer who need be stirring at
this early hour-visits the guard. When the
sentry sees him approaching, he calls: "Turn
out the guard! Officer of the Day!" The
guard is drawn up in line. "Present arms! "
commands the sergeant. The officer then in-
spects the guard, and receives the sergeant's
report. The guard is obliged to "turn out" for
certain dignitaries-the President of the United
States, members of the cabinet, foreign minis-
ters, a general, the officer in command of the
post, and the officer of the day. At West Point
they tell a rather neat story at the expense of
one of the plebess," as members of the lowest
class are called there. While on sentry duty
one day, he saw a priest,' whose features were
unmistakably Hibernian, approaching. "Turn
out the guard!" shouted the plebe, "Foreign
Minister !"
We left the soldiers at breakfast. At some
posts this is followed by the regular drills. At
others-Governor's Island in New York Har-


I
/1





FROM REVEILLE TO TAPS. 69
bor, for instance-the hour between 7.30 and who, with the new guard, goes on duty until
8.30 A. M. is filled in with drills for the "awk- guard-mounting the morning following.
ward squad," target-practice in the ditch, and The duties of the officer of the day some-
odds and ends. Dress- what resemble those of the executive officer
parade, aboard a man-of-war. He is responsible for
S; things generally about the post, and
:. 'especially for the police arrange-
I. ments-the guard. This he should
7-+ visit at intervals during the day, and
S1 must inspect at reveille, retreat (at
sunset), and at least once between
I midnight and reveille. This last duty
is the most irksome of all. Sometimes
't the officer will sit up an hour after
midnight and then descend upon the
guard; sometimes he will turn out
an hour or so before reveille, his pur-

OFFicEr of 7 AY
CTINE THPCE GUAR,
the most impor- A R
tant ceremony of
the day, when all -
the troops at the e he -
post pass the
commanding of-
ficer in review, to
the martial strains
of the band, or of ua-f
the field music FELD-ARTILLERY PRACTICE. FIR -
(bugles or drum-
and-fife corps) if there be
no band, is a "movable
feast," taking place at some
posts at 9 A. m., at others
not until sunset. The adju-
tant, having brought the com-
mand to "present arms," turns
about, salutes the commanding
officer, and reports: "Sir, the
parade is formed." The com-
manding officer now takes a hand
and puts the command through such
exercises in the manual of arms as I0HTING. AN .
he may desire, the march in review 81NCH RIFLEDOUN pose being to take
closing the ceremony. When dress- the guard by surprise. The
parade is held in the morning, it is im- sentry and non-commissioned of-
mediately followed by guard-mounting, ficers of the guard must be on the alert;
in which the band or field music also takes part. the others may be asleep, but must be in their
In this ceremony the men "warned" for guard clothes. In time of war, when it is necessary
duty are reviewed by the new officer of the day, to enforce discipline most rigidly, a sentry who





[Nov.


FROM REVEILLE TO TAPS.


Mortar practice


/ -a... ., Fire-
"lFire 3,,


goes to sleep while on duty, or leaves his post,
is punished with death. In time of peace, of
course, the penalty is less severe. In war no
sentry would allow any one to pass him with-
out giving the countersign, and even in peace
he challenges all comers at night. While a
countersign is rarely required in peace, it,
nevertheless, gives one quite a gruesome feel-
ing to be challenged at night. The sally-
port at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor, is a
long, narrow, arched masonry passage, very,
very dark at night. Leaving the fort late one
night, I heard the sentry come to a sudden halt,
and felt instinctively that he had brought his
musket to the "charge." It is rather unpleasant
to feel that a bayonet is pointed at your breast.
"Who goes there ?" rang the challenge through
the vaulted way. For a moment I thought of


beating a hasty retreat. Then, remembering
directions that had been given me, I said:
"Friend of officer of the post."
"Advance, friend! was the welcome reply,
and a moment later I found myself, to my great
relief, under the star-lit sky.
We dropped the routine work at guard-
mounting. From o1 to iI A. M. is the hour for
drills. These are very varied at artillery posts,
as Uncle Sam expects his artillery to be expert,
not only as artillery but also as infantry. For
this reason the batteries are drilled in infantry
tactics as well as at heavy guns, siege-guns,
mortars, and field-pieces. When the recently
adopted Infantry Drill Regulations went into
effect, the garrison at Fort Columbus, Gover-
nor's Island, devoted a month to company
drill, which was followed by battalion drill.






FROM REVEILLE TO TAPS.


Now, the battery-drills are divided up as fol-
lows: two weeks infantry, two weeks mortar
and siege-guns, two weeks eight-inch rifled guns,
two weeks field-guns, and two weeks mechani-
cal maneuvers. These last consist of lifting
the gun from the carriage, and similar exercises.
The captain rarely appears at drills, these
being usually conducted by the lieutenants.
" Captains," said the major in command of
a post to me once, "are worthless. Majors,"
he added, with a twinkle in his eye, are more
worthless." Majors are also known as "fifth
wheels to the coach." In the Army Regula-
tions, majors are mentioned but once, it being a
major's duty in case of the death of an officer of
his regiment to secure said officer's effects and
to make an inventory of them. But, of course,
majors are often in command of posts and in
other responsible positions, and


stone, said to have been the work of a British
prisoner in the war of 1812, liberty having
been his reward.* The infantry and field-gun
drills are held on the pretty parade-ground
near the center of the island, with the harbor
and the Statue of Liberty as a background.
The field-guns are "in park" on this fine stretch
of lawn. There are four guns to a battery, each
gun under a sergeant, who is a "chief of de-
tachment." The corporal who sights the gun
is the gunner. The others are cannoneers. In-
cluding the chief of detachment, there are nine
men to a gun. When this has been unlim-
bered, and the caisson run to the rear, the chief,
the gunner, and four cannoneers remain with the
gun, and one cannoneer carries ammunition
from the caisson, where the other two cannon-
eers remain.


the captains are responsible for
their batteries. They have been
through the mill so long that they
can well leave the hard work
of the drills to the lieutenants.
With the artillery, the drills, .
so faithfully practiced, are with -
old guns which an enemy would
not fear much more than pop- -
guns. For with his modern guns
he could, while banging away at
our forts, remain out of range of
our guns. Our little army is as W
well officered, and has as good
material in the ranks, as any army
in the world; but it is expected
to fight without weapons. Said
an officer to me: "We have n't
modern guns, we have n't mod-
ern forts, we have n't modern
powder, we have n't men enough,
we have n't even the conveniences
for planting torpedoes--in all -
other respects we are well pre-
pared for the enemy."
At Governor's Island, the men
who are to go through the in-
THE SALLY-PORT AT FORT COLUMBUS, GOVERNOR'S ISLAND.
fantry drill exercises, and to be
drilled at the field-guns, march out of the pic- The cannoneers are known by numbers, and
turesque sally-port of Fort Columbus, which is No. I is the star performer of the cast. He is
surmounted by a military device well carved in the rammer and sponger, and, if he is a quick,
See story, "The Carving Over the Sally-port," ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1888, page 10.






FROM REVEILLE TO TAPS.


graceful fellow, he can execute a pas seul on the
turf, to the admiration of the spectators and the
envy of his brother cannoneers. See his lithe,
strong pose,-every muscle on the alert,-as
he stands ready to jump and sponge the piece
the moment it has been discharged! Nothing
is prettier, in a military way, than the group
around one of these old-time field-guns when
the gunner has taken aim and the cannoneer at
the lanyard awaits the order to fire.
In mortar drill six men serve the piece. The
mortar rests upon a platform. If it has, in fir-
ing, kicked back to the right or left, the offi-
cer commands: In battery Heave! The
four cannoneers, with their handspikes, heave
the piece into position, stopping at "Steady! "
When it comes to loading the shell, hooks are
suspended from one of the handspikes and in-
serted in the projectile, which is thus carried by
two men to the mortar, raised to the level of
the muzzle, and unhooked. Bang! goes the
mortar; the shell rises into the air, and then
descends with a long, graceful curve.
Half an hour after drill, at 11.30, the "first
sergeants' call" is sounded. The first sergeants
repair to the adjutant's office, and receive from
the sergeant-major the details for guards, etc.,
and copy orders received into the company
order-book.
Noon is the dinner-hour, and afternoons and
evenings the men have practically to them-
selves, except that they are obliged to clean
their "kits muskets, bayonets, and accou-
trements. Recruits, and those who have done
poorly at drills, may have further drilling after
dinner, and all must be present at the roll-call
at "retreat," when the sunset gun is fired and
the colors are lowered. Retreat" is a very old
bugle-call, dating back certainly as far as the
first crusade. In winter there is, in the after-
noon, a free, voluntary school for privates, the
attendance at which, at most posts, is very grati-
fying. There are also a school for non-commis-
sioned officers and the Officers' Lyceum, under
the commanding officer. At some posts the sol-


diers' duties are more spread out over the day,
with the avowed purpose of keeping the men at
the post. In fact, whether a soldier's lot is a
happy one or not depends a good deal upon
the commanding officer, or K. O.,". as he is
called for short.
At cavalry posts, or where there is a light
battery, the stable duties consume considerable
time.
The following words, written to stable call,"
are in vogue throughout the mounted service:

Now go to the stable,
All you who are able,
And give to your horses
Some oats and some corn.
For if you don't do it
The captain will know it,
And then you will rue it,
As sure as you 're born.

The "canteen," or post exchange, as it is
now officially termed, has, at posts where
there is room enough,- Fort Hamilton, for
instance,- developed into a pleasant soldiers'
club, with a restaurant, reading-room, and even
bowling-alleys. The work about the post is
done by the contingent from the guard-house.
"Tattoo" is sounded at 9. P. M., after which
quiet must prevail in the quarters. At 11 p. M.
the beautiful bugle-call "Taps"-the signal for
"lights out"-is sounded, the first sergeants go
quietly through their quarters, see if all are pres-
ent, and the soldier's day is over.
Here are the notes of "Taps."
Slo .1






"Taps" is played, and most fittingly, over the
soldier's grave, be he general or private. As
with lights out night closes in upon the sol-
dier's day, so with the same call the curtain rolls
down upon his life.






A k YeniYea S. Dolly

Btj Efudaa S. Bamst-ead,


The i)octor came, and he said twas plain
That Dolly's trouble was chronic ;
And he thought a ride on a rail-road train
Would suit her best for a tonic .
So I wrapped her up with the greatest care
And put on her Sunday bonnet;
And the engine, that was Ihe roching-chair
Witk Engineer Harry upon it.


I 8ave my Dolly all she would need
And propped her up with a pillow;
She was flyjig along at ihtning speed
In. her palace car of witow;
But all at once she fell on the track; -
0 'twas a dreadful ending !
The engine -rocker went over her back,
And I'm Iraid she's past all mending3 .














































THREE hundred yearseago, or so,
The best that could be had for gold,
To set before a queen herself,
Might make a carving-knife run cold:
A peacock stripped and roasted! Then,
Served in its feathered skin and crest,
And glorious in the amethyst,
S Emerald, and sapphire of its breast,
With curving throat of azure lights,
And in its gilded beak a flame,
Held high by some fair lady's hands
On a great silver dish it came.
And Cleopatra's purple sail
Was duller than that streaming tail!
SWhen that great gorgeous bird was fit,
tI wonder how one lifted it!





WINTRY CHEER.


Talk of the good old times! Just think
Of all the feathers and the fuss!
The times we have are best of all,-
The best is good enough for us!
Look at this phenix, crackling hot,
Done to a turn of its brown breast,-
From last year's ashes here again,-
And never mind the peacock's crest!


What will I have? An outside bit
Whose praises epicures might sing -
The wish-bone, thank you, or perhaps
* The luscious picking of a wing!
Come, let a royal feast begin
When Mary brings the turkey in:
For all their crests, and peacocks, too,
I would n't change with them,-would you ?


THE GREETINGS.

By MARGARET JOHNSON.

" Comment vous portez-vous, chere Madame ?"
Says, courtesying, gay Louise,
And carries herself with a conscious air,
Polite and pretty and debonair,
S Remembers her manners everywhere,
S And always is quite at her ease.

" Cdme sta ?" cries Filippo's musical
voice,
And he laughs with his lips and eyes.
Lithe and sturdy and brown of face,
He walks and stands with a careless
grace,
And the vigorous ease of his southern
race -
Cdme va, signor he cries.

SWie befinden Sie Sick, mein Herr?"
The grave words soberly fall,
And, lost in the labyrinthine ways
Of a vague, metaphysical, misty maze,
I wonder, Hans of the wide-eyed g.-:,.
You can "find yourself" at ll! .i

Alive and alert from their heel: to
S their heads,
Come Tommy and Johnny and L:'u;: U
And each energetic Amer-
ican sprite,
Who is up and a-doing
from morning till night, 'i
Cries out-and no wonder !-
in greeting polite,
How are you ?" or "How do you do?"















gNenious












BY ERNESTINE FEZANDIt.


CHILDREN are often at a loss what to give their parents
when birthday or Christmas-time comes around. If they
only knew how to use their ten little fingers to advan-
tage, they could very often solve the difficulty. Then,
instead of presenting a gift which has no value save the
kind thought which prompted it, they could offer a little
souvenir which would give double pleasure from the fact
that it is their own work.


Among such articles as can be made by the children
themselves, I would suggest a little pen-wiper, as shown
in the heading, which can easily be made at small ex-
pense. The materials required are: a wishbone, red
sealing-wax, some coarse black thread, black ink, an old
pair of kid gloves, and a little sewing-silk which will har-
monize with the color of the gloves.
When these materials are collected, the first thing to
be done is to cut about twenty-five pieces of black thread,
one inch long, and tie them firmly together in the middle.
(Fig. 2.) This will constitute the wig of our little sub-
ject. Then go to work on the wishbone itself. Heat
the sealing-wax over the gas or a candle until soft, apply
several times to the head of the wishbone, until it is
sufficiently covered; then shape with the fingers, making
the general form of a face with a somewhat prominent
nose. (Fig. I.) While the wax is still soft, press the
black thread into it, spreading out the threads on each


side. Another dab of wax on the very top of the head
will give the appearance of a bald pate with just a rim of
hair around it. Cut off the ends of the hair evenly; with
a pin prick two small holes for the eyes, make a slight in-
dentation for the mouth,and fill these with ink. The head
will then be completed, and, when dry, we can go on with
the work. Form the feet by applying wax to both extremi-
ties of the bone, and shaping it to resemble feet. (Fig. I.)
Now for the dress. Cut two oblong
pieces of kid from the gloves, one
the length of the bone, the other a
little shorter. Nick both pieces at
the bottom; feather-stitch the ends
of the longer piece together so as
to form a pair of wide trousers (fig.
S4); slip on the wishbone, gather at
/ the neck, and sew firmly. The other
,, piece may be prettily stitched round
Sthe bottom (fig. 3), and shirred at
the neck. This will give the effect
of a wide cape.
An addition to the little figure
can be made by cutting off half the
small finger of a glove, ornament-
ing ft with the silk, and fitting it
to the head, to appear like some
Oriental head-dress. (Fig. 5.)
This trifling and inexpensive little
gift is most amusing,
and certainly can- t not fail to win the
appreciation of the person who
receives it, by its oddity
and ts novelty.









tJJI:tP


ii ~9~~a-














THE LETTER-BOX.


SAGINAW, MICH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mama gave you to me for
Christmas, and I enjoy you so much that I wish you
would come every week. I want to tell you what a
nice joke you helped me to play. We were going to
have an exhibition in our school, and I had learned a
piece and recited it so many times that my big brother
called it a chestnut." When your May number came
with that cunning piece about Mary Ann," I learned
it, but did not tell a single soul, and the next time my
teacher asked me to rehearse my piece, I got up and
recited Mary Ann." How they all laughed, and the
children clapped, and I thank you very much for helping
me to make so much fun. Your loving friend,
HELEN S. C-.


U. S. NAVY YARD, PORTSMOUTH, N. H.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wrote to you three or four
years ago, and as my letter was printed I thought I would
write again.
Last April a new boat was launched here at Portsmouth
from No. 5 Ship-house. I was the one who had the
honor of christening it. At three o'clock I stood on a
raised platform in front of the bow, and broke the bottle
of Piscataqua water. The bottle was very pretty, being
gilded and tied with red, white, and blue ribbons. As I
broke the bottle just as she started, I called out," I name
thee Steam Ferry Launch No. 132." A man was stand-
ing just under the edge of the platform as the bottle
broke, and all the water and bits of glass went down his
neck. He felt very queer, as he thought the salt water
was wine. The boat is very pretty, and runs back and
forth between the Yard and Portsmouth. I went on the
trial trip, and it went very fast, indeed.
My letter is getting rather long, so I will close now,
remaining your loving reader, EDITH M. B- .


WE take pleasure in printing the following interesting
letter from an appreciative reader:
ALLEGHANY, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I wonder if you will ever know
what a delight you are to mothers with small children to
train and amuse My children are particularly fond of
having me read to them, and nothing pleases them so
well, among their many books, as the arrival of a new
ST. NICK; and, as "brother" sagely remarks, "there
is no trouble getting mama to read, when it 's the last
ST. NICHOLAS." No matter what time it comes, mama
has to take a rocker, and, with sister (aged four) on her
lap, and brother (past ten) at her side, the leaves are
cut, and at least a glimpse taken of the treat in store.
Then the ten bound volumes have to be frequently gone
over, for fear something has been missed, or to read
again some old favorite. Brother reads for himself now,
and sister thinks she can do just as well, when she sits
on a chair and reads "Marjorie and her Papa," or
Elfie's Visit," from memory- only I fear the authors
would not always recognize their work. But you have
doubtless heard all this many times from grateful mo-
thers, and I want to tell the other children a snake-
story" which always pleases my bairnss."


In a recent number, you speak of what a rare thing it
is to see a snake discard his skin, which recalls an expe-
rience at the Smithsonian Institution manyyears ago. My
father (who was quite a naturalist), my sister, and I were
standing in front of the large glass case, which at that
time contained a good many specimens of snakes. Most
of them were lying quietly on the sand, or coiled in the
corners; but one of the largest ones seemed very restless,
and behaved in a peculiar way. Finally, he crawled
slowly up the trunk of a small tree placed in the
case, and began running his head in and out of a fork of
a branch. Quite crowd had collected by this time, and
some one exclaimed, See the queer thing on his head! "
and then my father told us to watch closely, and we
would see an unusual sight. His snakeship wriggled
and squirmed till the loose skin at the head and neck
was wrong side out," and then, with much care and
deliberation, looking around with a triumphant glance,
came on through his skin, leaving it fastened in the fork
of the tree. One of the curious things about it was the
snake's evident enjoyment of his new fall suit. (It was
in October.) I don't know whether a small snake called
him a "dude," or what excited his ire, but in a few min-
utes there was a royal battle going on, the larger snake
evidently determined to get his enemy's head down in
the sand. The little fellow struggled bravely, but he was
almost conquered when some one ran for a keeper, who,
running up, seized them, and literally ripped them apart,
flinging one to each end of the cage. A little turtle, who
was gazing at the battle with outstretched neck and
wide-open eyes, came a little too near the combatants
just before the finale, and, receiving a blow from the lash-
ing tails, was turned on his back, to his apparent surprise
and disgust. The snakes showed signs of renewing the
struggle, but there is too much to see in Washington to
spend all the morning at the snake-house, so we reluc-
tantly turned away.
If you think the many readers of dear old ST. NICHO-
LAS would care to see this really, truly story," I know
two of the most devoted who would be charmed to see
"mama's snake-story" in their favorite book.
Yours very truly, M--


MILWAUKEE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two Mexican girls,
eight and nine years old, and are staying in Milwaukee.
We wish to tell you something about our adventures.
We don't like city life as well as the country, and it is
hard for us to get used to Milwaukee.
In Mexico we used to ride up the mountains; but
when we came here and went to the woods for the first
time, we saw some steep hills, but not near as high as
the mountains. As we saw no burros, and saw some
very fine American ladies and gentlemen, we asked them
where the burros were, and they laughed and asked us
where we came from. We told them from Mexico, and
went on a little way. We wanted to go down the
"mountain (as we called it), so we sat down at the top
of the hill and slid to the foot. There was a little stream
at the foot, and, not seeing it, we slid right into it. We
found it was very warm, so we pulled off our shoes and
stockings and were going to wade, but we sank in the
mud up to our knees. The people who saw us laughed







THE LETTER-BOX.


at the idea, and thought us very boisterous. Our neigh-
bors cannot get used to our noise, but we don't mind it.
If this letter is not too long, we would love to have
you print it. Your loving readers,
ELSIE AND ANNA F-.


EASTHAMPTON, L. I.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We thought we would tell
you how we spend some of our time in making poppy
dolls. First, take a poppy that has gone to seed, and
draw a face on it in ink. The little ridge on the top is
the hair, or you may use it for a hat. Then take a long





a- A 17.




~ I /






strip of tissue-paper, any color you like, and cut two little
holes for the arms. The arms are made of matches stuck
into the poppy. Then the doll is complete excepting a
ribbon round the waist, if wanted.
MURIEL AND ETHEL G-.


BENT MOUNTAIN, VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy twelve years
old. I live on a spur of the Blue Ridge called Bent
Mountain. It is a beautiful country, two thousand nine
hundred feet above the sea-level, and is eighteen miles
from the new and growing city of Roanoke.
Bent Mountain is a very wild country, and abounds in
large and small game. There are numbers of partridges,
woodcocks, squirrels, foxes, and rabbits in the forests;
and deer, catamounts, and even wolves and bears are
seen. Last fall a little girl who lived near us went out
to gather wild grapes. She was gone so long that her
friends became anxious, and went to look for her. After
a long search they came upon her body, lying beneath a
grape-vine. A large bear in the thicket near revealed the
author of this dreadful deed. I am glad to tell you that
the bear was punished for his crime by losing his life.
A kind uncle sends us ST. NICHOLAS, and we enjoy
it very much. Although my home is on Bent Moun-
tain, I am going to school this winter in Bel Air, Mary-
land. Your interested reader, COLES T-


SANTA BARBARA, CAL.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Santa Barbara,
and am twelve years old. Santa Barbara is a beautiful
place. Our cottage is nearly covered with vines and
flowers. We have three acres in our door-yard, pas-
tures, and corrals.


We have a hen with twenty-one little chickens, but she
did not hatch them all herself. As other hens would
hatch them we would give them to her, so we would not
have so many broods. We have a Scotch collie named
"Robert Bruce," but we only call him Bruce. He is
very bright. We have two pretty young mares and
two colts. One mare is an iron-gray named "Hazel,"
and the other is mama's beautiful sorrel mare Nympha."
One bay colt is named Circe," and the other "Daffo-
dil." Our house is on a knoll; on both sides it has
ravines, dry in summer, but in winter roaring tor-
rents. A great many wild roses, wild morning-glories,
yellow monkey-flowers, and scarlet Indian pinks grow
on their banks. We have a little pond in our yard,
with white water-lilies in it; and we have a large
Indian mortar made of stone, which was plowed up
on a friend's ranch near here, and in which we have
some blue water-lilies. We have a cat and two pretty
blond kittens. The ocean bathing here is delightful, and
many people bathe in the surf every day in the year. I
ride on horseback nearly every day, and I have ridden
as many as thirty-five miles in a day without being tired
at all.
In the spring the hills are beautiful with the pretty
wild-flowers, and the brooks are fringed with lovely ferns
and flowers. Mama and I sleep out of doors summer
and winter in shelter-hammocks which are rain-proof.
Our dear friend Miss McC- makes me a Christmas
present of ST. NICHOLAS. Your loving friend,
CONSTANCE DEL--.


SOUTH BOSTON, VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eight years old, and have
taken you a year. I am always looking forward with
joy to your coming. I want to tell you about Bunny."
Bunny was a black-and-white rabbit, and he was very
fat. I saw him first in the summer of 1890, at my aunt
Sallie's. When breakfast was ready Bunny would come
into the dining-room and stand upon his hind legs and
look at the table until some one would give him a piece
of bread; then he would take it out into the passage to
eat it. He did not think it right to eat with civilized
people. Bunny would not let any one pick him up, but
he liked to be rubbed; he always slept with the cows,
but he liked the little Jersey calf best of all. They would
lie in the wagon-shed and sleep for hours. Once I saw
the calf licking Bunny; when she came to Bun's long ears
she began to chew them. It did not hurt at first, but at
last it did, and Bunny jumped a yard high; it was funny
to see him. One Sunday afternoon we were sitting on
the back porch eating apples, and "Bonny" and her little
colt "Jim," the big horse, and "Logan," the mule, stood
waiting for the cores, when Bunny came up hoppety-skip,
to get his share. But Logan drove him away, and tried
to stamp on him with his front feet. Bunny is dead now.
He died of old age. I felt very sorry to hear it.
Yours truly, QUINCY M- .



WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them : Jamie M. S., E. C.
D., A. N. T., Nathan A., Edith N. B., Nettle E. G., Fred.
J. P., Martha T., Mary C., Laura S., Page F., Elliott W.
H. Jr., Margaret F. H., Eleanor G. D., Julia B. F.,
Muriel H., Rita I., Marie B. F., M. M. I., Ethel A. B.,
Morgan B., Lizzie R. J., Nettie H., Edelherty and Dorris,
Janie P., "Thomas Edward" B.









THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER.
DOUBLE DIAMONDS. I. Across: I. M. 2. Lot. 3. Tares. 4. Bar- QUOTATION PUZZLE. Initials, America. i. Addison (Joseph).
onet. 5. Beset. 6. Sit. 7. S. II. Across: P. 2. Car. 3. Moped. 2. Moore (Clement C.). 3. Emerson (Ralph Waldo). 4. Rogers
4. Ramadan. 5. Regal. 6. Tan. 7. Y. (Samuel). 5. Ingram (John K.). 6. Collins (William). 7. Allen
ANAGRAM. William Lloyd Garrison. (Elizabeth Akers).
PI. We crown thee with gold, Queen October, GEOGRAPHICAL DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Carcassonne; finals,
We crown thee with purple to-day; Montpellier. Cross-words: i. Cam. 2. Arezzo. 3. Rouen. 4. Con-
But we leave King November the ermine necticut. 5. Antwerp. 6. Seine. 7. Sil. 8. Orel. 9. Novi. o1. Nile.
To wear with his garments of gray. ir. Exeter.
The maples, brave knights of thy kingdom, HALF-SQUARE. i. Osceola. 2. Scoria. 3. Copal. 4. Eras. 5. Oil.
The oak-trees, thy counselors strong, 6. La. 7. A.
Are gracefully spreading their mantles TRIPLE ACROSTIC. From I to 5, Wayne; 6 to to, Stony; ix to
For the queen they have waited so long. 15, Point. From I to 6, wheels; 2 to 7, amulet; 3 to 8, Yzalco;
TRANSPOSITIONS IIdols, solid. 2. Trance, nectar. 3. Oration, 4 to 9, nation; 3 to xo, employ; 6 to II, shrimp; 7 to 12, tomato;
Ontario. 4. Warp, wrap. Initials and finals, snowdrop. 8 to 13, Ossoli; 9 to 14, notion; o1 to 15, yernut.
CUBE. From I to 7, Hogarth. From i to 2, Hiogo; 2 to 4, opera; COMBINATION PUZZLE. Letters represented by stars, Columbus
4 to 7, Allah; 7 to 6, helot; 6 to 3, twang; 3 to i, gnash; 2 to 5, discovered America. Cross-words: i. COLlie. 2. UMber. 3. BUS-
owner; 3 to 5, glair; 5 to 7, reach, tard. 4. DIScus. 5. COVEnant. 6. REDeem. 7. AMulet. 8. ERIe.
BROKEN LETTERS. Columbus loved good Nicholas, the saint. 9. CAlliope.
On his first voyage he named the first port at which he landed in PENTAGON. I. S. 2. Sal. 3. Solid. 4. Saluted. 5. Litany.
Haiti, St. Nicholas." 6. Dense. 7. Dyed.
To oUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August z5th, from Paul Reese-"The McG.'s"-
Ida C. Thallon -The Sewalls Arthur G. Lewis-Josephine Sherwood-Katie, Jamie, and Mama- Xelis-Dalton & Co.- Guion
Line and Acme Slate Co.- Jo and I-" Infantry "- E. M. G.- Grace Morris L. 0. E.-" Ethel and Mama "-" Uncle Mung"-
Ida and Alice -"We Girls."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August i5th, from Minnie and Lizzie, i -Eugenic and Helen
Broeksmit, 2--Edward S. C., I Louise and Marie, i-Glowacki and Ralph Parker, i- Daphne and Philo, 3-August, I -M. L.
F., 2 Eleanor L. Nicholson, 2- L. Susie Hoag, i C. Detteror Williams, 2 Rita F., Fannie F., Emily B. B., 3- M. L. H., Jr., i-
Naj6 Rheatun, 2- Clara M. Cheney, 2 George S. Seymour, 4 Ida Young, 3- Melville Hunneville, 5 Mary L. H., 2 Louise E.
Jones, 2 May G. and Nannie L., 2 -" Blossom," I Mama and Lillie, 5- Arthur Maxson, 2 C. D. C., 3 Hilda Weber, i L. O.
and H. H., s-Carrie Chester, i-Willie H., i-Portia Johnston, i- M. M. C., R. P. R., and R. W. S., 2-Alice G. Goddard, -
Charles S. Townsend and Grace, 4-" Ren Ketch," 2 -Agnes M. B., 2-Constance and Anna, Ethel Martin, 3 -Elizabeth C.
Grant, i Eleanor and Grace, to- Ray Wall & Co., 3 -The Main Stock Co., 6 -" Two Girls and a Boy," 2- Gwendolen Reid, 6- The
Highmount Girls, 8 -A. L. T., T. E. T., and H. R. H., 2- Nellie Archer, 8 Effie K. Talboys, 7 Elaine S., 2 Grace Isabel S., 2 -
H. M. Landgraff, i- Willie D. Fletcher, 2 -Edith 1M. Derby, 6--Hubert L. Bingay, io- L. Hutton and V. Beede, I0 -Marguerite,
Annie, and Emily, 5- Lillian Davis, i E. T. White, A. T. and K. B. 9-"Two Girls and a Boy "(Kankakee), 3 -Jessie Chap-
man, io-Stella and Teresa, 4 -Gertrude E. Hutchinson (and Papa), 2-- earny, Rosalie Bloomingdale, 7-" May and '7 5-
"Two Big Confederates," 1o -Violet and Dora Hereford, 8 -May G. Martin, 5 Post-marked Brooklyn," i -Marie Therese ., 5 -
Hattie and Carrie, -" Rag, Tag, and Bobtail," 3-" Pickwick," 3 -C. L., 2 Laura M. Zinser, 5 -A. O. F., 4- Ethel and Grace
Wheat, 2 Dottie Dimple Webb, o -" Wareham," i -A. O. F., 4- G., Mamma and Charlie, 5-"A Witch," I Isabelle and
Clara C., o1 Clara M. Cheney, 2.


WORD-SQUARE.

I. To warble as the Swiss do. 2. A musical drama.
3. A storehouse. 4. To eat away. 5. A milky or
colored juice in certain plants. G. F.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.

MY first is in oblong, but not in square;
My second, in cheating, but not in fair;
My third is in merry, but not in sad;
My fourth is in temper, but not in mad;
My fifth is in chorus, but not in air;
My sixth is in freedom, but not in care;
My seventh, in oval, but not in round;
My eighth is in surface, but not in ground;
My ninth is in censure, but not in blame:
My whole was a genius of world-wide fame.
TRIPLE ACROSTIC.

MY first row of letters spells commences ; my last row,
to interfere; my central row, a term used in grammar.
CROss-WoRDs (of equal length) : I. A Greek measure
of length. 2. Molasses. 3. Projected. 4. Murmured.
5. Of little value. 6. A spire. XELIS.
ANAGRAM.

A FAMOUS man of letters:
TOM AS A BOMB, CHAUNTING A LAY.
ZIGZAG.

ALL of the words described contain the same num-
ber of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one


below another, in the order here given, the zigzag, begin-
ning at the upper left-hand corner, will spell a sobriquet
given to the third president of the United States.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Solitary. 2. A sudden and rapid
invasion by a cavalry force. 3. A dry, granulated starch
imported from the East Indies. 4. An intricacy. 5. To
travel slowly, but steadily. 6. At a distance. 7. To beat
with a heavy stick. 8. A uniting tie. 9. A long, pointed
tooth. Io. Unyielding courage. II. A two-masted,
square-rigged vessel. 12. Performs. 13. Impartial.
14. Otherwise. 15. To thwart. 16. A game played on
horseback. 0. B. G.
CUBE.
I 2


5 . 6


3 '


7 .. 8

FROM I to 2, to affirm; from I to 3, to store; from
2 to 4, glorified; from 3 to 4, shield-shaped; from 5
to 6, the avocet; from 5 to 7, to glitter; from 6 to 8,
return; from 7 to 8, symbols; from I to 5, a raised plat-
form; from 2 to 6, aTurkish title; from 4 to 8, entitles;
from 3 to 7, subdued. A. C. CRETT.






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I AM composed of one hundred and nine letters, and
am a quotation from Walter Savage Landor.
My 63-10-47 is a slight bow. My 70-8-59-87-13-81
is to prevent. My 28-41-17-92 is the husk. My 22-
45-98-4 is to liquefy. My 72-102-67-34 is to dart along.
My 106-20-37-83-57-89 is to grab. My 104-74-26-78-
18-68-84-23 is sometimes relished by the best of
men." My 77-65-94-3-60 is untwisted filaments of silk.
My 1-49-56-40 is upright. My 31-101-75 is an ever-
green tree. My 107-38-33-15-5-21 is very dull. My I1-
24-85-35-7-96-73-90-61 is a musical instrument. My
97-43-86 is a marsh. My 27-99-52-12-58-I4 is a very
useful plant which grows in warm climates. My 88-2-
30-55-79 is a plant once very highly valued in Holland.
My 51-71-25-64-44-105-36 is a low shrub beloved in
Scotland. My 32-19-95-91-76-29 is a tropical plant.
My 42-62-103-9-66 is a common flower which blooms
in the early summer. My 1oo-82-6-69-93-54-39-16
46-53-50-80-48 is an enormous aquatic plant which is
found in Brazil. c. B.
PI.

RADE unmatu sayd, os clam, os twese,
Keli a gribth, mecewol merymo yuo mees;
Os Iful fo sutormule dan hayz glith,
Os fost, os trained, os keil a madre.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

MY primals and finals each name a planet.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. A plotter against
an existing government. 2. Giving no heed. 3. A com-
mon vegetable. 4. To fix deeply. 5. A living picture.
6. A rubbing out. 7. To revive. "ZUAR."

RHOMBOIDS.

I. ACROSS: I. A musical drama. 2. To adjudge.
3. A city mentioned in the book of Samuel.. 4. The
entire sum. 5. To recompense.
DOWNWARD: I. In rosemary. 2. A near relative.
3. A domestic animal. 4. To rave. 5. Warmth. 6. To
be excessively fond. 7. A sharp blow. 8. A musical
note. 9. In rosemary.
II. ACROSS: I. A measure. 2. A masculine name.
3. A kind of rampart. 4. To rejuvenate. 5. A drain
for water.
DOWNWARD: I. In rosemary. 2. A masculine nick-


name. 3. A sailor. 4. Always. 5. Domineers over.
6. A native of Denmark. 7. Fresh. 8. A pronoun.
9. In rosemary.
Write side by side the first cross-word of each rhom-
boid, and the ten letters will spell an instrument or
machine for measuring work done.
R. H. OMBOID."

DIAMONDS CONNECTED BY A CENTRAL
SQUARE.









*


* *


I. UPPER DIAMOND: I. In regulate. 2. A boy.
3. Loaded. 4. Original. 5. To waste away. 6. A
negative. 7. In regulate.
II. LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In regulate. 2. A
gull. 3. Smaller. 4. A military officer. 5. Anxiety.
6. A line of light. 7. In regulate.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. A favorite dish for dinner.
2. A plant. 3. To restrict. 4. Out of the way. 5. To
hinder.
IV. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In regulate. 2. A
snare. 3. A beverage. 4. Pertaining to a tile. 5. A
beautiful flower. 6. To undermine. 7. In regulate.
V. LOWER DIAMOND: I. In regulate. 2. A globe.
3. Hatred. 4. Commonplace. 5. To construct. 6. An-
gry. 7. In regulate. M. A. S.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.




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