Front Cover
 New York
 Polly Oliver's problem
 The story of Whittier's snowbo...
 What the lord high chamberlain...
 The white cave
 The king's fool
 The little servants of the sea
 How bunny brought good luck
 Prince Cam and the fairies
 The gifterd ant
 "The uncle Sam," the largest kite...
 The walrus-hunt in arctic seas
 Inanimate things animated
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00267
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00267
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
        Page 402
    New York
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
        Page 418
        Page 419
    Polly Oliver's problem
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
        Page 424
        Page 425
        Page 426
    The story of Whittier's snowbound
        Page 427
        Page 428
        Page 429
    What the lord high chamberlain said
        Page 430
        Page 431
        Page 432
        Page 433
    The white cave
        Page 434
        Page 435
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
        Page 439
        Page 440
        Page 441
        Page 442
    The king's fool
        Page 443
    The little servants of the sea
        Page 444
        Page 445
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
        Page 449
    How bunny brought good luck
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
    Prince Cam and the fairies
        Page 456
        Page 457
        Page 458
        Page 459
        Page 460
    The gifterd ant
        Page 461
        Page 462
        Page 463
    "The uncle Sam," the largest kite in the world
        Page 464
        Page 465
        Page 466
        Page 467
    The walrus-hunt in arctic seas
        Page 468
        Page 469
        Page 470
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
        Page 474
        Page 475
    Inanimate things animated
        Page 476
    The letter-box
        Page 477
        Page 478
    The riddle-box
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Page 481
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




APRIL, 1893.
Copyright, 1893, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



EVERYBODY knows that New York's patron
saint is St. Nicholas, and that he looks after
the happiness of all young people in this broad
and happy land. Omnipotent as he is,-and
able to go down half a million chimneys of his
pet island in a single night, let alone the rest of
Christendom,-it would put the merry saint to
his wits, if asked to tell about his own city in a
few pages of his own magazine. He might
just as well crowd the Genie back into the
Fisherman's jar, or carry the whole western
wheat-crop in a single freight-car, or perform
some more saintly and miraculous feat.
But let our motto be the ancient one-" St.
Nicholas be thy speed!" After all, one can
always say that New York speaks for itself.
Every American has two places of residence -
one, his own; the other, New York. Every
one, at least, except the New-Yorkers. They
are so sure of the truth of my half-borrowed
saying-in fact, so sure that New York goes
without any saying-that they do not take the
trouble to tell the world how it goes. There is
no civic horn hung up for self-proclamation.
If there was one, few New-Yorkers would stop

to blow it. They stop very little for anything.
Their city, to begin with, is the busiest, most
hardworking town on earth; the rush, the in-
dustry, the rumbling, the passing up and down
its wondrous length, are of themselves a marvel
and an excitement. Perhaps the unconcern of
its citizens is the strongest kind of horn-blowing.
But this may be carried too far, even to the
point of self-depreciation.
Yes: if New York does not become a per-
fect city, it will not be for want of instruction
from her own children as to her needs and
shortcomings. Sometimes a visitor takes us at
our word, and in turn declares that the great
town is unclean, long, narrow, and repulsive.
and-that we put our feet in the trough. But
then we get our backs up, like the praying dea-
con who called himself the vilest of the vile.
and then grew angry because his neighbors
would n't trust him.
Nevertheless, we have handed the brush to
those who mark the faults of our work, until
the canvas is well splashed over. Why not, for
a change, see if there are not some beauties
also ?


No. 6.


For example, here are those gifts of nature,
which few people are likely to consider, but
without which, they should call to mind, New
York could never have become the Empire
City. These are its climate and locality.
Healthy boys and girls don't care what the
weather is--except that they all like a snow-
fall, and none wishes it to rain on a holiday. I
have heard this climate called the worst in the
world, but usually by some newcomer or weak-
ling seldom by an old resident. And I have
heard far other climates called each the worst
in the world, even one that tires you with its
evenness, and is, in fact, no climate at all, but
the want of one. The old Gothamite knows
that his is the best kind of a climate; that its
changes are alternate bracers and soothers.
He knows that his one storm to guard against
is the nor'easter, and that storm, along this
shore, never comes without fair warning. He
knows this is the only city where one can tell
with certainty whether he need carry his um-
brella-I mean the only city except London,
for there he must always carry it. However,
the nor'easter here is not so cold and raw as
on the New England coast. He knows, be-
sides, that however hot the summer, his island
is swept by sea-breeze and land-breeze; that
its suburbs abut upon ocean and bay and
sound and river, and are watering-places of
"the first water." So that New York, in what
is called its residential portion, is a great water-
ing-place itself, and yearly frequented as such
by our friends from the Southern States, and
from the West Indies and Spanish America,
who delight in its zestful air, its Long Branch
and Coney Island and Rockaway, its East and
North Rivers, its drives and out-of-door din-
ners in the Park, its cool and radiant garden
concerts, its countless summer attractions by
day and night. He knows that on its island-
ridge, with water, water everywhere," salt and
fresh, and with such an atmosphere, this should
be, and will be, though it is not now, the clean-
est, best-flushed, healthiest city in the wide
The extremes of winter cold are brief and
mild compared with those elsewhere of which
he reads. The polar storms and ice-waves
are mollified on their journey from west and

north. They somehow lose their rage as they
near this edge of the sea,-so that once in a
while, when a real blizzard gets here, though
the drifts melt in a week, it is talked about for
a decade. At this middle of January, while I
am writing, and when the northern hemisphere
is enduring the most prolonged and extreme
": cold spell" known in many years, and when
reports come from the inland regions as far
south as Maryland and Tennessee, and from
Continental Europe, of temperatures far below
"o," the mercury in New York has not once
fallen to zero. All through the strange season
of 1891-92, when the South was shivering, the
whirlwinds, cloudbursts, snow-drifts, were heard
of everywhere, even within a hundred miles,
save in the charmed circle of New York and
its suburbs. Here all was serene.
And as for atmosphere and sky! Think of
the cloud that hangs over London, the
smoke-veil of many a populous western town.
Here the sky is blue by day, and the stars
compel us to see them at night, just as they do
in the country. The past generation kept from
too much exhilaration by making the best part
of the city "brown-stone." Our new archi-
tects, with poetry in their souls, are doing
otherwise. Their joyous structures of marble,
and creamy brick, and glowing tiles are bright-
ening street after street. If they were not,
you could not make the aspect gloomy. Dark
or fair, New York always laughs in the sun-
Its climate suggests the importance of its
site. Here was the spot designed, with the
first rise of the continent from the ocean, for
our grandest seaport. Thus far, its popula-
tion has been crowded on Manhattan Island,
if we exclude that of the shores across three
rivers, and from this density have come both
our success and our defects. We have had
no space for rear alleys, but they are beginning
to be a feature of model building-blocks in
the broader region far up-town. But where
else are twenty miles of wharfage for ships to
approach, and as many more of shore-line
awaiting the future? Add to all these an
equal length available for our suburbs of
Brooklyn, Jersey City, Hoboken, and Staten
Island. In our bays and rivers the ships of




-U "4"
K. *

the. worli i ;' ..i.
ith, eCurre le,-fo a
ttiviti k migh i har. I
hasi been :give that Nre.t Yiork.s il
uch they must al s be. Here the old and i .
new worlds co e itoethe. i;i er, gfot. evr
present, is the po t there wealth chieflynd cn-
Ctitrs, iwhr bour nation collurects nearly t t hir
a .i- t r.:' n I t'" the ipr-ier, t iL % ih ,:,:niiner- e,
warehouses, manufactures, markets, and all the
delights of society and culture that increase
the worth of life,-for a city to organize the
activities of a mighty nation, the ideal locality
has been given to New York.
Here are the portals of the continent, and
such they must always be. Here the old and
new worlds come together. Here, for the
present, is the spot where wealth chiefly cen-
ters, where our nation collects nearly two thirds
of its commercial revenues, where the invest-
ments of its citizens are bought and sold, where
the endurance, industry, refinement of a people
look to their leaders. This cannot always be
so preeminently the case. The United States
cannot always depend upon New York, as older
countries depend upon their capitals. For ours
is a land of all climates and soils, with varied
divisions, each requiring a capital suited to its
conditions. Thus far, New York is the me-
It is a matter of pride and patriotism, and of
education, for young readers to think of this -of
what is meant by a metropolis when they
visit New York. That the meaning is impres-

i- 'hS ': V. 11
by the impulse
which brings every THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE-THE END
one, old or young,
to see the great town. For every American
rightly feels that he has a share in it as he
feels that he has a share in the national capi-
tal, Washington; he knows that his own State
has contributed to its wealth and talent and
local traits, and that here he has a right to
feel at home. He comes to a city which,
as we learn from one authority, has a wealth
"greater than that of the entire State of
Pennsylvania," and five times .greater than
Illinois with its world-famous 'city of Chicago.
He learns that within a space not much greater
than the London metropolitan district, there
are over 3,000,000 of his fellow-beings. Make
the suburban circle a little larger, and I,ooo,-
ooo more will be included; so that New York
with its suburbs is now the second among the
civic centers of Europe and America. In visit-
ing this metropolis, moreover, with its unique
mixture of nationalities, he sees the peoples and
customs of the entire civilized world.
Thoughts of this kind probably are not what



Ena o City Hall. Tbh World. Tho Sun. Tho THRbrn. The TIs.

chiefly fill the minds of New York's younger
visitors. They and I know very well the sights
they chiefly come to see, the famous marvels
and attractions of the great town-the Brooklyn
Bridge, the Liberty Statue, Trinity Church, the
Exchanges, the great newspaper offices, Cooper
Institute, Madison Square Garden, the parks,
Grant's tomb, the museums, monuments, and

places of historic interest. They wish to see
the shipping at the docks, the huge ocean
steamers, the yacht-fleets; the rich and bril-
liant shopping-districts yes, and their fre-
quenters, for I am not the first to think that the
women of New York, from the fashionable
dames and damsels to the spirited, self-reliant
shop-girls, whether of native or foreign blood,




or of the two commingled, have a more various
beauty, and a style and carriage more indisput-
able, than can be observed elsewhere. When I
was a boy, Barnum's Museum was the place
which boys and girls visited without delay.
That does not seem (to me) very long ago;
but now there are scores of places of amuse-
ment for young and old, and delights and won-
ders far more confusing and endless than those
which Christian and Faithful found in Vanity
Fair. But rather than to catalogue such sights,
let me try to convey some idea of New York
as a whole, of its character for good or bad, of
what it means now, and what it is to be and
to mean in the future.
First, of the impression made by so great a
metropolis, the mysterious spell of the city-
instantly felt, yet as difficult to capture as "the
secret of the sea." I remember how wonderful
it seemed to one boy, after coming down the
East River on a Sound boat, or entering the city
glare at night-with the feeling of the country
lad in Locksley Hall," whose spirit
leaps within him to be gone before him then
Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs
of men.
Once among these throngs, there is the strange
vastness of abode, the fascinating vistas down
far-away streets, some of which I have left unex-
plored to this day, so that the early feeling may
not be quite lost. And then the tremendous
stream of humanity, flowing south at dawn and
back again at dusk, and in and out all day!
No one whose youth was passed in the country
ever becomes quite free from these sensations.
His town-born children comprehend the city.
They are of it, as he is not, and tread its streets
with an easy confidence of birthright. On the
other hand, they will ever know the inmost
secrets of wood and field. Nature whispers
these to her children only in their youth.
A like effect is produced, in less degree, by
a few other cities. So I will suggest the
method by which visitors can gain at once that
personal impression of New York as a whole
which the best map poorly conveys. To begin,
I would have them view it on both sides, the
Brooklyn and Jersey fronts, and "the islands"
with their institutions, from the ferry-boats
east and west. Then let them obtain those

"bird's-eye views which various points afford,
and which are rivaled only by the views
from the Boston State House dome and the
Eiffel Tower in Paris. That from St. Paul's
Cathedral in London, owing to the fog and
smoke, affects one chiefly through the imagi-
nation, which in truth it powerfully excites.



Ir: i~


There will be a grand lookout in Philadelphia
when the tower of the Public Building shall be




finished. But rarely will you get such a metro-
politan prospect as from any one of three eleva-
tions which I select from the many available.
First, then, get leave to ascend the noble
clock-tower of the Produce Exchange, very near
the island-point where the city had its begin-
nings. Below you is the site of the old fort, in
which the Dutch governors ruled "New Am-
sterdam," and which hard-headed Petrus Stuy-
vesant had to surrender to the Duke of York's
forces-their first act being to rechristen the
settlement and fasten their master's name upon
us. Within sight, everywhere, is perhaps the
most continuously historic ground of the Revo-
lution, and at your feet the spot whence King



George's beaten soldiery finally left these shores.
Here, too, are the Battery and Bowling Green.
Look off, and you will never forget the scene
about you. The vast commercial region
stretches northward. You can almost throw a
stone into Wall street, where Washington took
his presidential oath. In this direction you see
the grandest buildings, vying in height with
Trinity Church and St. Paul's; a little further,
mark the "Telegraphic Capitol," and the towers
and domes of the lofty newspaper edifices.
Everywhere, far as the eye can see, is a mass of
stores, warehouses, financial buildings; in short,
the spreading traffic, the strictly commercial and
executive portion of the town. Survey the har-
bor, to Liberty and Staten
islands, to the forts, and
through the Narrows to
the sea. To right and
left are the rivers, the
Bridge, Brooklyn, Jersey
City, and the inland
hills. Both of the rivers,
you remember, are to be
bridged and tunneled
again and again. What
splendor of life and
movement in the streets
S and on the water! Such
Sa maritime panorama at
all hours, with ferry-
boats, tugs, schooners,
steamers, going to and
fro, and ships and yachts
at anchor, can be seen
nowhere else on earth,
-there being no other
City, equally huge, that is
at once ocean-port and
S metropolis.
Concerning the im-
pression produced by a
closer knowledge of all
this activity, I will quote
-from a letter written by a
London author, for some
time here a resident. He
So closely has New
R. York bound itself to




me that the regret is
keen when I feel that
its marvelous atmo-
sphere, its bright, buoy-
ant life, and its youth-
ful vigor, are not likely
to be a part of one's
own record again. .
It is just because the
grimy stress of our
hideous throbbing city
is as dear as are its
quiet squares and its
show-streets that I feel
I love London,-and
because the motley
down-town of New
York-the crowded
ferry-boats -the life
of the streets-are so
superb to one who can
appreciate them, that
I feel I may also love
its clubs and its aris-
tocracy of genius, its
glorious Hudson and
its luxurious life!" I
Now go three miles
northward, and you
are in that civic center
which has shifted,with-
in memory, from the
City Hall Park to
Union Square, and
again to Madison
Square the plaza M
around which are tokens of our most bril-
liant life and pleasure. Here you are whirled
up the delightful Sevillian tower of the Gar-
den," and from a height of 300 feet look out
"over the roofs of the world "-picturesquely
broken up, spire-pierced, full of color. Here
you view the social and residential up-town"
region,- rich and proud mansions, the costly
hotels, the theaters, clubs, music-halls, opera-
houses, and the colossal apartment-houses.
The Roman Catholic cathedral lifts its white
spires over all. You see the churches, homes,
and play-houses of upper-class New York, as it
now exists.



Three miles more, and you may climb the
Belvedere on the highest eminence of Central
Park. Here one is enchanted by viewing that
long pleasure-ground which nature and art com-
bine to make so varied. It is too narrow, per-
haps, but this enables you to see how it is bor-
dered with new and stately mansions, and to
look away to the Riverside and Momingside
parks, and yonder to the Cathedral Heights,"
to be crowned anon by the Grant Mausoleum,
the Columbia University, and by that coming
wonder-the Protestant cathedral. Between
is the new New York," a spacious tract with
fair streets, houses of modern design, a score of

new churches, and all the evidences of amazing than we are told of. Only, its ways are not our
recent growth. Above Central Park, the Har- ways--its standard of life is not, for the most
lem district is a city in itself. Throughout the part, the American standard, and we cannot

"new" region an ambition prevails, such as
that which animates a western town. But one's
fancy looks away to the northeast, and beyond
the Harlem River, to the New York of the
future, of which I shall speak again- to the
complete and enlightened metropolis, the final
outcome of all this wealth and achievement.
I have not asked you, thus far, to get a view
of a vast, foreign, and poorer district, stretching
from Broadway to the East River, though it is
equally characteristic and suggestive with all
that we have seen. Its qualities affect all the
rest, as we shall soon feel. Its population,
added to that of the other "foreign districts,
is the majority. There is misery enough, you
all know, among its thickly crowded inhabitants,
but there is also more happiness and content


judge it by the latter. But, to complete your
general view of the metropolis, you will, with-
out my advice, speedily acquaint yourself with
five streets, four of them known by description
to every child in the land: Broadway, with its
extension, the Boulevard; the Bowery, just as
remarkable in its own way; Wall Street; Fifth
Avenue; lastly, the Riverside Drive, already
peerless with its curves and outlook up the
There is enough, I say, that is unseemly and
pitiable in the populous city, but I have chosen
at first to dwell thus upon impressions of its
beauty and power, because the general aspect
of the more evident part of a town is, after all,
like that of a human face- it does give us a
clue to character and tendency. Some for-




eigner has said that, until entering our harbor,
he never understood why an American moved
along as if he bore the word Empire in in-
visible letters upon his forehead.
One morning in May I reached our "gates
of the ocean," returning on a steamer from the
West Indies. Among our passengers was a
young Englishman, an Oxonian, on his way
home from Jamaica. He was to pass only a
day in New York, having gained an unfavora-
ble idea of it from a newspaper letter, but
wished to get the most out of his day. I was
not ashamed, however, of the approach to the
city that sunlit morning, through the imperial
Lower Bay, alive with sailing craft and steam-
ers. As we passed through the Narrows, I saw
that he understood the delight with which mil-

island, proclaiming her wardership to all the
world: a poetic figure--in conception, at
least--at the very outpost of the country of
materialism. Then, the Upper Bay, the riv-
ers, the cities on each side, the airy wondrous
Bridge, the shipping, the Queen of Cities right
in front.
I helped my young Englishman through his
custom-house inspection, and attempted no
apology for our wooden docks, except to say
that Rome was not built in a day. His box
was sent to a hotel near Madison Square. But
him I conveyed by the L" road to my sta-
tion near Central Park, casually remarking that
this railway carried 600,000 passengers daily,
or 219,000,000 a year, and had never lost
through negligence the life of a passenger once

"- .- ,,"--' ." ;' '-"l .
....2 .. i,: _.pil ..- -"
: .. '

1- ---
--- S -

lions of immigrants have looked upon the green fairly in the company's charge. As we stood
slopes flanking that entrance to their promised on the high platform at West Eighty-first street,
land. There was Liberty on her buttressed looking over Manhattan Square, and across



Central Park,-where our flag was streaming
from the Belvedere,-and at the grassy mead-
ows and stately houses, he--who for a year
had not seen a green English sward, and who
had never found such a sky as ours elsewhere
-broke out: "Why, this is a dream. It is
Then I bade him enter the Park at Seventy-
eighth street, and walk-he was a sturdy
walker-down by the Lake to the Mall, and
then to Fifth Avenue, and by that thoroughfare
a couple of miles to his hotel; and so I left
him,- being, as you see, something of an im-
pressionist. I am sure he reached his hotel
with a joyous heart and a good appetite; and

many fine caf6s, within a half-mile radius, at
a price which one must pay when he wishes
It is preeminently, also, the city of hotels,
varying from the cheap lodging-house to superb
palaces for our millionaire guests. But it is no
less a city of homes, though this is what a
stranger does not readily comprehend until
properly introduced to them, and then not fully
unless his visit extends to months or even sea-
sons. Let him land in a less cosmopolitan city,
and, with friends to welcome him, he soon will
know its best home life and society, and will
say: "How charming this is! how much like
life at home! But after a few weeks, he will


that he got as good a breakfast as can be ob-
tained on British soil.
This reminds me that New York is now the
city of caf6s; that in no foreign capital can you
have your choice between so many of different
nationalities and at all prices, and between so

have little new to discover. In New York, the
process is exactly the reverse. Nor is our best
society" that restless, extravagant set which
arrogates the name, and is forever on exhibition.
It is, as elsewhere, the society of culture and
refinement, now increasing so rapidly. It in-




cludes, no less, upon its list many of the best
estates and oldest families of Manhattan. It
has the home life, art life, the life at the Cen-
tury Club and kindred organizations, which
has become the envy of the merely rich and
And now, with respect to the evident defects
of the metropolis,- the contrasts of splendor
and squalor; the want of evenly distributed
beauty and comfort; the want of civic spirit;

again, in the same premature way, to the sec-
ond. Or suppose a Dutch turnspit so strangely
enchanted that, when quite young, he should
become an English house-dog, and, just as he
was having some comfort and growing into
shape, should change into a half-grown mastiff,
bigger and more ungainly; and that then it
should appear that he was destined, after all, to
become a magnificent lion, of dimensions re-
quiring so abnormal a growth as to unsettle for


the need, shared in common with various
American cities, of "municipal reform."
In any judgment of these matters, two things
should be understood. New York always has
experienced sudden transformations. While
minor towns are affected by the changes in their
respective districts, the striking changes of all
districts are reflected here. The metropolis has
had no chance to become wonted to any of its
metamorphoses. Imagine a. school-boy sud-
denly promoted, before he had got half through
his fifth form, to the fourth form or class, and
forced to adjust himself to it as rapidly as possi-
ble; and then, before half used to the fourth
class, as suddenly advanced to the third, and

a while his temper, looks, and proportion. A
single invention, for instance, alters not only
our way of living and doing business, but the
city's appearances. In time the whole town
may grow up to the "elevator" period. We
are constructing prodigious and often sightly
buildings; but these are here and there and
everywhere, so that they produce, except in a
district just south of the Park, an effect as dif-
ferent as possible from the even perfection of
Paris. They are grand, indeed, in the region I
have excepted. For New York is the city of
palatial apartment-houses, excelling in number,
comfort, splendor, and outlay any others in the
Old World or the New. I could devote this



article to a description of.the Navarro houses but certainly of their children. And not with-
alone. There are countless smaller apartment- out success. When a patriotic day of joy or
houses and flats, suited to families of all sta- mourning occurs, it moves one's sense of their
tions. Before-the war, people of moderate means growing brotherhood to see that their humble
were compelled to "board"; there was not a decorations in the colonial quarters" are
single flat above the grade of the East Side more general than the costlier trappings else-
"tenement" floor. Rents are still high, ow- where.
ing to the shape and restricted area of the is- The metropolis, then, assimilates these stran-
land, but thousands of hopeful young couples gers; such is its unceasing, heroic task. By
are happy in the independence of their pretty the State census of 1890, there were 1,800,891
"apartments." souls within the present city limits. Four
The second thing to be remembered is that fifths of these were either foreign-born or
New York not only handles the resources of the children of foreign-born parents. Out of
the nation,-and on such a scale of increase 43,659 persons dying in 1891, only 7883
that to make its docks
and streets keep pace ,t.
with it would require .. i '
the means of the State,
almost of the nation it-
self,-but it also has a
special, vast, and pa-
triotic task to receive -
the living overflow of ~-'
Europe, to cleanse and -
distribute it, to retain. Ii' 1 ,
the most unsightly por- .'
tion of it and make i '-
this, as the clear Missis- 7.
sippi makes the turbid -
Missouri, a portion of -
its own substance. New -
York, then, is the i -
city of immigrants, the 11 % i
most hospitable and
educational of world- -' ---- --::_--7 -
centers. It is the nation- i
al reception-room -the '"
place of rest for hungry, ... .... -
travel-worn pilgrims.. .
after Jordan has been- ;:
crossed. The task of .
American New York
and its government is to ,
take these foreign hordes
in hand, to welcome the
in hand, to welcome the THE HOME OF THE CENiTURY CLUB.
better class and make
Americans of them, and to gain from them were of native parentage. I have obtained by
labor, taste, color, in return; to receive also the favor, at Washington, statistics of our foreign-
far greater mass of the coarse and wretched, born population by place of birth, according to
and to make Americans of them, if possible, the United States Census of 1890,-facts un-


known to our boards of Police,
Health, and Charities. (Fancy
an Old World city government
uninformed as to such matters!)
Of the 1,634,234 persons en-
rolled, 639,943 were "foreign- .
born," and it may be assumed
that as many more were the
children of foreign-born parents.
The foreign-born were com-
posed of 210,723 Germans, 190,
418 Irish, 48,790 Russians, and
6759 Poles, 10,139 Scandinavi-
ans, 3951 Italians, 2048 Chinese, -.
887 Spaniards, 266 Turks, 263
Greeks, and of all other nation-
alities 129,699. Add to this list '
the children of these immigrants
born since their arrival. The
Russian Jews have more than ..
doubled in number, by immi-
gration, since 1890.
These are dry figures for young readers, but
I spare them enough more to fill an arithmetic.
So varied is the population that New York is
called the first Irish city in existence, and the
largest German city except Berlin, and that it
contains large Russian and Italian cities, and
goodly Norse and French towns. Its Jewish resi-
dents number probably over 250,000. With their
thrift and talent they swiftly rise from poverty
to independence, and to their cultured leaders
we owe no mean share of our advance in mu-
sic, art, and letters. Again, in 1890 there were
23,601 persons of African descent (black or of
mingled blood), a smaller proportion than one
who frequents Sixth Avenue would estimate.
Nearly all these colonies occupy districts to the
east and west of the grander thoroughfares, as
distinct as the Jewish quarter in Prague, or
the Christian quarter in Constantinople. How
broad and populous the great German district
beyond the Bowery; how picturesque and typi-
cal the French quarter below Washington
Square! -in which artistic writers have found
their most fascinating themes and atmosphere.
Now, the supervision and training of which I
speak devolve upon the municipal government,
with its courts, police, schools, hospitals, aided
by noble charities and missions of all classes,


. -_y
.,t i' /t'- I." Te 'i v :

and retarded by conditions upon which I do
not enlarge, but which excite the zealous criti-
cism that is of itself a hopeful symptom. Evi-
dent as is the need of a model city government
-like that of Birmingham, for instance -New
York can justly take pride in the Police, the
Fire Department, the Militia with its noble
armories, and in the grandest of aqueducts, each
of these an example for other municipalities.
Our public schools, however, much as they
have advanced, are neither large enough nor
good enough. A thorough change is needed
in their administration and capacity.
More than upon our rulers who can plead
that they fairly represent the "majority "-
blame must fall upon the dull indifference of
the great trading class which has built up New
York, yet has lived here solely to acquire gain.
We need not regret the past absorption of dry-
goods men, manufacturers, etc., in their busi-
ness. Out of their success-as the stories of
Venice and of other historic cities tell us- the
higher attainment must come. Such is the
law-first, material success, then taste and
ideal progress. It is no less to the shame of
our moneyed classes that the movements for
public culture, adornment, elevation, are set on
foot and sustained chiefly by a small and most




select group of generous men. Their names
can be counted in a minute, and of these the
richest often have not given in proportion to
some of lesser means.
If an appeal to the business man's sense of
the ideal is useless, let him consider his prac-
tical interests. What is the situation? That
New York is a true metropolis is shown by its
provincialism. Paris is the most provincial of
cities, because the most visited. When I asked
a London-born lady, resident in Paris since her
childhood, if she did not wish to revisit her na-
tive land, she replied, with a French shrug of

don. Let our business men have a care. There
is a new metropolis in the central West; there
will be another on the Pacific. There is com-
merce enough for all, but our easy self-assur-
ance hastens the inevitable reduction of our
custom-house receipts as compared with those
of growing rivals; it is already reducing our
superiority in the marks of taste and learning.
For years the mercantile classes have thrived
without much civic pride and gratitude; with-
out reflecting that a time may come, as to
Babylon, when their heirs may "weep and
mourn" because "no man buyeth their mer-


her handsome English shoulders: No, indeed.
Why should I wish it? Does not all the world
have to come to Paris?" The Parisian cares
nothing for -the outside world, but he knows
how to make it pay tribute. London ? Read
the English papers, and you will see how ludi-
crously England undervalues the mighty life of
the western hemisphere. We copy the exam-
ple, forgetful of the prophetic course of em-
pire." Westerners are alert to see this, and to
wonder at us, as we wonder at Paris and Lon-

chandize any more." How does Paris continue?
By making herself ever more fair, creative, and
alluring; so that all resort thither for happiness,
for art, science, learning. It is amazing that
our mercantile classes do not demand, and lav-
ishly create, the finest streets, public buildings,
lights, arches, pleasure-grounds; the grandest
schools, churches, universities, libraries, mu-
seums; and withal, a trustworthy municipal
We need not complain, now that literary and




artistic conditions are bettered, and the victory
is won, that New York has been "a stony-
hearted mother" to her writers, artists, and
scholars; that her respect for art, learning, lit-
erature was so long a kind of dress-coat patron-

purely ideal appeals, the great heart of New
York, once touched, is tender and sympathetic.
This is, above all, the city of charity. It is
even true 'that much of its niggardliness in mat-
ters of taste has been due to want of leadership


age and diversion; that even now our newly rich
have advanced but to the object-lesson period,
and encourage art largely to delight their eyes
with beautiful "interiors that are the luxury
and evidence of moneyed success. For the con-
ditions are changing, as I have said in referring
to "our best society," and so rapidly that the
younger workmen can never realize what their
predecessors encountered. There are hopeful
signs, even in our self-reproach, of the growth
of civic spirit." There is a realization of the
educational value of the beautiful-testified by
such creations as the Madison Square Garden,
by financial and other structures equaling in
design the best in the world, by the museums,
and the new Arts building, and the Washington
Arch, each and all of which have aroused local
pride, and the desire to advance upon these
hopeful beginnings.
Much may be forgiven, too, to those who
have "loved much"; and it must be confessed
that, however slow has been the response to
VOL. XX.-27.

and organization. The subscription to the Arch
was successful. That for the Grant Mausoleum,
requiring more than $500,000, halted in favor
of a call for help to the suffering. 'It in-
stantly was made up when an executive leader
planned a mode of appeal to all citizens. No
other town ever has responded with generosity
more swift, practical, and unstinted, when human
misery has been made known to it. Nearly
$2,000,000 were contributed by New-Yorkers to
Chicago after the great fire. Over $i,ooo,ooo
were promptly raised in aid of sufferers by the
Johnstown flood. Whenever pestilence, flood,
fire, or famine makes havoc elsewhere, the
bounty of the metropolis seems exhaustless.
Its hospitals, both public and private, are more
than notable; indeed, physicians complain that
our hospital system is so munificent that this
city is a poor place for all but the chiefs of
their profession. The Fresh Air Fund is re-
newed annually by the voluntary gifts of old
and young. Charitable societies, especially the


., -- _../_----';~-7


Children's Aid and its like, have for years tri-
umphed in noble and successful work. The
new Kindergarten movement is of promise.
Other things must at least be mentioned, for
which the metropolis is great in spite of itself, as
French say. Partly owing to its special
formation, it has been, and will be, the
city of processions and pageants. What
a prismatic account could be written
of these, from the first Croton cele-
bration to the memorable Washington
and Columbian parades! It is the city
of bench-shows and flower-shows and

rx.- PC.2
?' L,I

sic-halls, are reaching the front. It is the city
of clubs, mercantile, fashionable, political, pro-
fessional, dramatic, artistic, literary, social above
all. These outrank those of any place except
London in quality, luxury, and number. It
is not the city of churches,
though becoming so in the
new districts, and now
i rejoicing in its movement
for a Protestant cathedral
But the clergy, the bar,
and the schools of medi-
cine are of just renown,
and here are some of the
foremost seminaries of
these several estates."
In libraries for the
people we are still
L-1dC0,i I 1 ii.I

Leno,.. tie

I, r thi r

-. .- -
. .. .



horse-shows, the latter with its attendant dis-
play of thoroughbred and thorough-dressed
men and women. What we need, and will yet
possess, is an American Colosseum, across the
Harlem, in which more than a hundred thou-
sand people can witness such contests as the
Thanksgiving foot-ball game. It is the city of
theaters, and the rallying-point for actors great
and small. Its orchestras, conservatories, mu-

work. New York has not only her Columbia
College, now entering as a university upon a
new career under the inspiring guidance of
President Low, but on either hand she has Yale
and Princeton almost as closely related to her
as Harvard is to Boston. Finally, in her
museums she has the youth of institutions
worthy of her greatness, and already advanced
by private largesses to a point further than



-" -, ..,

the subsidied museums of London reached in
an equal length of time.
Above all, the metropolis draws to itself the
ambitious youths, the picked men and women,
from the country at large. Hither they come,
to see and not be seen, yet finally to profit so
much by what they see as to achieve reputation
and success. If few of them are coddled, if
the struggle is keen and sometimes cruel, talent
after all has its equal chance in the testing
process which only the fit survive. The vast
aggregation of life gives freedom-liberty of
action and belief, and seclusion or society as
one may choose. There is, of course, the
hard-hitting of opponents, sometimes very un-
fair; but there is no room for the petty scrutiny,
bigotry, formalism, of little towns. The fresh
note, the genuine addition, are eagerly wel-
comed. New York's ingathering of writers
and artists is yearly more significant. Here
they find the needful atmosphere, and the dra-
matic, picturesque life of sunlight and shadow,
upon which their genius thrives.. Here, then,
are the schools of art and architecture, and,
above all, the most important literary and artis-
tic markets. Where the food is, "there will
the eagles be gathered together." The writers
upon the staffs of the newspapers-secular,
religious, and technical--are of themselves an
intellectual army, and in the lead of national
opinion. New York magazines are foremost in
popularity here and abroad. They have de-
veloped native writers, and are eagerly contrib-
uted to by foreign pens; they have created
modern wood-engraving, in which America
stands at the head as confessedly as in the
construction of modern stained glass-an art
brought to fresh and marvelous beauty by our
local designers. As for publishing-houses of
all grades, this city has more than its propor-
tional share. The best of them, like the leading
houses of a few other American cities, are

conducted by educated gentlemen, generous in
their outlay, whose relations with authors are
intimate, and honorable to all parties con-
cerned. Lastly, with respect to professional life
in New York, it may be said that until recently
it derived its strength largely from the New
England element, but is now recruited from all
parts of the country, and many born on Man-
hattan Island are specially conspicuous in art,
letters, and the other liberal pursuits.
When our younger friends revisit the Empire
City in 1923, they will complete their series of
bird's-eye views by surveying that of which so
many are now dreaming--the greater city of
the future. The idea of Greater New York"
has of late taken hold" upon the public mind.
Movements once begun, in view of such a con-
ception, never go backward. The civic pride,
now awakening, is sure to fulfil its mission with
increasing ardor. Thousands of my readers will
live to ascend some tower above the Harlem
River, from which they will see not only Man-
hattan Island, filled to all its shores with build-
ings, and the acropolis where are grouped the
Mausoleum, Columbia University, and St. John's
Cathedral with its dome and cross at the high-
est height,-but will also gaze upon the resi-
dential city to the east, with its series of mag-
nificent parks, its beautiful mansions set in
garden-closes, its speedways, plazas, and broad
shaded streets. In the distance, the Brooklyn
district will beacon from Long Island's shore,
huge as New York is now, and united by bridge
after bridge with what will then be the district
of New York. For, while both the present
cities may retain their present titles, the imperial
metropolis will inevitably be consolidated under
one name-and that, perhaps, neither Dutch
nor English, but aboriginal. There is none
more purely American than Manhattan, and
none to which the term "historic" more truth-
fully can be applied.





Author of The Birds' Christmas Carol," "A Summer in a Canon," etc.

[Begun ita e November number.]
POLLY settled down in the Bird's Nest under
the protecting wing of Mrs. Bird, and a very
soft and unaccustomed sort of shelter it was.
A room had been refurnished expressly for
the welcome guest, and as Mrs. Bird pushed
her gently in alone, the night of her arrival,
she said, This is the Pilgrim Chamber, Polly.
It will speak our wishes for us."
It was not the room in which Polly had
been ill for so many weeks; for Mrs. Bird
knew the power of associations, and was un-
willing to leave any reminder of those painful
days to sadden the girl's new life.
As Polly looked about her, she was almost
awed by the dazzling whiteness. The room
was white enough for an angel, she thought.
The straw matting was almost concealed by a
mammoth rug made of white Japanese goat-
skins sewed together; the paint was like snow,
and the furniture had all been painted white,
save for the delicate silver lines that relieved it.
There were soft, full curtains of white bunt-
ing fringed with something that looked like
thistle-down, and the bedstead had an over-
hanging canopy of the same. An open fire
burned in the little grate, and a big white-and-
silver ratan chair was drawn cozily before it.
There was a girlish dressing-table with its oval
mirror draped in dotted muslin; a dainty writ-
ing-desk with everything convenient upon it;
and in one corner was a low bookcase of white
satinwood. On the top of this case lay a card,
"With the best wishes of John Bird," and
along the front of the upper shelf were painted
these words: Come, tell us a story !" Below
this there was a rich array of good things. The
Grimms, Laboulaye, and Hans Christian Ander-
sen were all there. Charles Kingsley's Water

Babies jostled the Seven Little Sisters"
series; Hawthorne's "Wonder Book" lay close
to Lamb's Tales from Shakspere," and Whit-
tier's Child Life in Prose and Poetry stood
between Mary Howitt's Children's Year and
Robert Louis Stevenson's Child's Garden of
Polly sat upon the floor before the bookcase
and gloated over her new treasures, each of
which bore her name on the fly-leaf.
As her eye rose to the vase of snowy pam-
pas plumes and the pictured Madonna and
Child above the bookcase, it wandered still
higher until it met a blue-and-silver motto
painted on a white frieze that finished the top
of the walls where they met the ceiling.
Polly walked slowly round the room, study-
ing the illuminated letters: "And they laid the
Pilgrim in an upper chamber, and the name of
the chamber was Peace."
This brought the ready tears to Polly's eyes.
God seems to give me everything but what I
want most," she thought; but since He gives
me so much, I must not question any more; I
must not choose; I must believe that He wants
me to be happy, after all, and I must begin and
try to be good again."
She did try to be good. She came down to
breakfast the next morning, announcing to Mrs.
Bird, with her grateful morning kiss, that she
meant to "live up to her room. But it 's
a frightfully perfect room," she confessed. I
shall not dare have a naughty thought in it;
it seems as if it would be written somewhere
on the whiteness!"
"You can come and be naughty in my
bachelor den, Polly," said Mr. Bird, smilingly.
"Mrs. Bird does n't waste any girlish frills and
poetic decorations and mystical friezes on her
poor brother-in-law! He is done up in muddy
browns, as befits his age and sex."
Polly insisted on beginning her work the


very next afternoon; but she had strength only suggestions and advice; for he was a student
for three appointments a week, and Mrs. Bird of literature in many languages, and delighted
looked doubtfully after her as she walked away in bringing his treasures before so teachable a
from the house with a languid gait utterly un- pupil.

like her old buoyant step.

often came
"POLLY GLOATED OVER HER in the evenings,
E BOOKS. as did Tom and Blanche
Mills, and Milly Fester; but though Polly was
cheerful and composed, she seldom broke into
her old flights of nonsense.
On other nights, when they were alone, she
prepared for her hours of story-telling, and in
this she was wonderfully helped by Mr. Bird's

"She has a sort of genius that astonishes
me," said he one morn-
ing, as he chatted with
Mrs. Bird over the
a breakfast-table.
Polly had excused
herself and stood at the
na farther library window,
-,...-.......; gazing up the street
vaguely and absently,
Sas if she saw something
beyond the hills and
the bay. Mrs. Bird's
heart sank a little as
she looked at the
slender figure in the
black dress. There
were no dimples about
the sad mouth, and was
it the dress, or was she
not very white these
latter days ?-so white
that her hair encircled
her face with absolute
glory and startled one
with its color.
It is a curious kind
of gift," continued Mr.
Bird, glancing at his
morning papers. "She
takes a long tale of
Hans Andersen's, for
instance, and after an
,:,ur or two, when she has
h1is ide. fully in mind, she shows
nme h she Iprolpo-e-s to tell it to the younger
children at the Orphan Asylum. She clasps her
hands over her knees, bends forward toward
the firelight, and tells the story with such simpli-
city and earnestness that I am always glad she
is looking the other way and cannot see the
tears in my eyes. I cried like a school-girl
last night over The Ugly Duckling.' She has
the natural dramatic instinct, a great deal of
facial expression, power of imitation, and an al-
most unerring taste in the choice of words


which is unusual in a girl so young and one
who has been so imperfectly trained. I give her
an old legend or some fragment of folk-lore,
and straightway she dishes it up for me as if it
had been bone of her bone and marrow of her
marrow; she knows just what to leave out and
what to put in, somehow. You had one of your
happy inspirations about that girl, Margaret,-
she is a born story-teller. She ought to wan-
der about the country with a lute under her
arm. Is the Olivers' house insured ?"
Good gracious! Jack, you have a kanga-
roo sort of mind! How did you leap to that
subject ? I'm sr.:2 I don't know, but what
difference does it make, anyway? "
A good deal of difference," he answered
blandly, looking into the library (yes, Polly had
gone out); "because the house, the furniture,
and the stable were burned to the ground last
night,-so the morning paper says."
Mrs. Bird rose and closed the doors. That
does seem too dreadful to be true," she said.
"That poor child's one bit of property, her
only stand-by in case of need! Oh, it can't
be burned down; and, if it is, it must be in-
sured. I'm afraid a second blow would break
her down completely just now, when she has
not recovered from the first."
Mr. Bird went out and telegraphed to Dr.
George Edgerton:
Is Oliver house burned, and what was the amount
of insurance, if any? Answer. JOHN BIRD.

At four o'clock the reply came:

House and outbuildings burned. No insurance.
Have written particulars. Nothing but piano and fam-
ily portraits saved. GEORGE EDGERTON.

In an hour another message, marked Col-
lect," followed the first one:

House burned last night. Defective flue. No care-
lessness on part of servants or family. Piano, por-
traits, ice-cream freezer, and wash-boiler saved by super-
human efforts of husband. Have you any instructions ?
Have taken to my bed. Accept love and sympathy.

So it was true. The buildings were burned,
and there was no insurance.
I know you will say there never is in stories
where the heroine's courage is to be tested,

even if the narrator has to burn down a whole
township to do it satisfactorily. But to this
objection I can make only this answer: First,
that this house did really burn down; second,
that there really was no insurance; and third,
if this combination of circumstances did not
sometimes happen in real life, it would never
occur to a story-teller to introduce it as a test
for heroes and heroines.
Well," said Mrs. Bird, despairingly, Polly
must be told. Now, will you do it, or shall I ?
Of course you want me to do it! Men never
have any courage about these things, nor any
tact either."
At this moment the subject of conversation
walked into the room, hat and coat on and an
unwonted color in her cheeks. Edgar Noble
followed behind. Polly removed her hat and
coat leisurely, sat down on a hassock on the
hearth-rug, and ruffled her hair with the old
familiar gesture, almost forgotten these latter
Mrs. Bird glanced warningly at the tell-tale
yellow telegrams in Mr. Bird's lap, and strove
to catch his eye and indicate to his dull mas-
culine intelligence the necessity of hiding them
at present.
This glance was too much for Polly's gravity.
To their astonishment she burst into a peal of

"My lodging is on the cold, cold ground,
And hard, very hard is my fare! "

she sang, to the tune of "Believe me, if all
those endearing young charms."-" So you
know all about it, too ? "
How did you hear it?" gasped Mrs. Bird.
"I bought the evening paper to see if that
lost child at the asylum had been found.
Edgar jumped on the car, and seemed deter-
mined that I should not read the paper until I
reached home. I knew then that something
was wrong, but just what, was beyond my
imagination, unless Jack Howard had been
expelled from Harvard, or Bell Winship had
been lost at sea on the way home; so I per-
sisted in reading, and at last I found the fatal
item. I don't know whether Edgar expected
me to faint at sight! I'm not one of the
fainting sort! "





I 'm relieved that you can take it so calmly.
I have been shivering with dread all day, and
Jack and I have been drawing lots as to which
should break it to you."
Break it to me! echoed Polly, in superb
disdain. My dear Fairy Godmother, you
must think me a weak sort of person! As if
the burning down of one patrimonial estate'
could shatter my nerves! What is a passing

"How was it that the house was not in-
sured ?" asked Mr. Bird.
"I 'm sure I don't know. It was insured
once upon a time, if I remember right; when
it got uninsured I can't tell. How do things
get uninsured, Mr. Bird ?"
"The insurance lapses, of course, if the pre-
mium is n't regularly paid."
Oh, that would account for it!" said Polly,


home or so ? Let it burn, by all means, if it
likes. He that is down need fear no fall.' "
"It is your only property," said Mr. Bird,
trying to present the other side of the case
properly, "and it was not insured."
What of that? she said briskly. "Am I
not housed and fed like a princess at the pres-
ent moment? Have I not two hundred and
fifty dollars in the bank, and am I not earning
twenty-five dollars a month with absolute regu-
larity ? Avaunt, cold Fear "

easily. "There were quantities of things that
were n't paid regularly, though they were always
paid in course of time. You ought to have
asked me if we were insured, Edgar,-you were
the boy of the house,- insurance is n't a girl's
department. Let me see the telegrams, please."
They all laughed heartily over Mrs. Green-
wood's characteristic message.
"Think of' Husband' bearing that aged ice-
cream freezer and that leaky boiler to a place
of safety!" exclaimed Polly. "' All that was



left of them, left of six hundred!' Now, my
family portraits, piano, freezer, and boiler will
furnish a humble cot very nicely in my future
spinster days. By the way, the land did n't
burn up, I suppose, and that must be good for
something, is n't it ?"
Rather," answered Edgar. A corner lot
on the best street in town, four blocks from the
new hotel site! It's worth eighteen hundred
or two thousand dollars, at least."
Well, then, why do you worry about me,
good people ? I 'm not a heroine. If I were
sitting on the curbstone without a roof to my
head, and did n't know where I should get my
dinner, I should cry! But I smell my dinner"
(here she sniffed pleasurably), "and I think it's
chicken! You see, it's so difficult for me to
realize that I 'm a pauper, living here, a pam-
pered darling, in the halls of wealth, with such
a large income rolling up daily that I shall be
a prey to fortune-hunters by the time I am
twenty Pshaw! don't worry about me! This
is just the sort of diet I have been accustomed
to from my infancy I rather enjoy it! "
Whereupon Edgar recited an impromptu
nonsense verse:
"There's a queer little maiden named Polly,
Who always knows when to be jolly.
When ruined by fire
Her spirits rise higher,
This most inconsistent Miss Polly."

THE burning of the house completely pros-
trated Mrs. Clementine Churchill Chadwick
Greenwood, who, it is true, had the actual
shock of the conflagration to upset her nervous
system, though she suffered no financial loss.
Mr. Greenwood was heard to remark that he
wished he could have foreseen that the house
would bur down, for now he should have to
move anyway, and if he had known that a few
months before, why -
Here the sentence always ended mysteriously,
and the neighbors finished it as they liked.
The calamity affected Polly, on the other
hand, very much like a tonic. She felt the
necessity of bracing" to meet the fresh re-
sponsibilities that seemed waiting for her in the

near future; and night and day, in sleeping
and waking, in resting and working, a plan was
formulating itself in the brain just roused from
its six months' apathy,- a novel, astonishing,
enchanting revolutionary plan, which she bided
her time to disclose.
The opportunity came one evening after din-
ner when Mrs. Bird and her brother, Edgar
and herself, were gathered in the library.
The library was a good place in which to
disclose plans, or ask advice, or whisper confi-
dences. The great carved-oak mantel held on
the broad space above the blazing logs the
graven motto, "Esse Quod Opto." The walls
were lined with books from floor half-way to
ceiling, and from the tops of the cases Plato,
Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, and our own Emer-
son looked down with benignant wisdom. The
table in the center was covered with a method-
ical litter of pamphlets and magazines, and a
soft light came from the fire and from two tall,
shaded lamps.
Mr. Bird, as was his wont, leaned back in his
leather chair, puffing delicate rings of smoke
into the air. Edgar sat by the center-table, idly
playing with a paper-knife. Mrs. Bird sat in
her low rocking-chair with a bit of fancy-work,
and Polly, on the hearth-rug, was leaning cozily
back against her Fairy Godmother's knees.
The clinging tendrils in Polly's nature, left
hanging so helplessly when, her mother was
torn away, reached out more and more to wind
themselves about lovely Mrs. Bird, who, not-
withstanding her three manly sons, had a place
in her heart left sadly vacant by the loss of her
only daughter.
Polly broke one of the pleasant silences.
An open fire makes such delightful silences, if
you ever noticed it! When you sit in a room
without it, the gaps in the conversation make
everybody seem dull; the last comer rises with
embarrassment and thinks he must be going,
and you wish that some one would say the next
thing and keep the ball rolling. The open fire
arranges all these little matters with a perfect
tact and grace all its own. It is acknowledged
to be the center of attraction, and the people
gathered about it are only supernumeraries.
It blazes and crackles and snaps cheerily, the
logs break and fall, the coals glow and fade



and glow again, and the dull man can always
poke the fire if his wit desert him. Who ever
feels like telling a precious secret over a steam-
heater ?
Polly looked away from everybody and
gazed straight into the blaze.
"I have been thinking over a plan for my
future work," she said, and I want to tell it to
you and see if you all approve and think me
equal to it. It used to come to me in flashes,
after this Fairy Godmother of mine opened an
avenue for my surplus energy by sending me
out as a story-teller; but lately I have n't had
any heart for it. Work grew monotonous and
disagreeable and hopeless, and I'm afraid I had
no wish to be useful or helpful to myself or
to anybody else. But now everything is differ-
ent. I am not so rich as I was (I wish, Mr.
Bird, you would not smile so provokingly when
I mention my riches !), and I must not be idle
any longer; so this is my plan. I want to be a
story-teller by profession. Perhaps you will
say that nobody has ever done it; but surely
that is an advantage. I should have the field
to myself for a while at least. I have dear
Mrs. Bird's little poor children as a foundation.
Now, I would like to get groups of other chil-
dren together in somebody's parlor twice a
week and tell them stories -the older children
one day in the week and the younger ones
another. Of course I have n't thought out all
the details, because I hoped my Fairy God-
mother would help me there, if she approved
of my plan; but I have ever so many afternoons
all arranged, and enough stories and. songs at
my tongue's end for three months. Do you
think it impossible or nonsensical, Mr. Bird ? "
No," said he, thoughtfully, after a moment's
pause. It seems on the first hearing to be
perfectly feasible. In fact, in one sense it will
not be an experiment at all. You have tried
your powers, gained self-possession and com-
mand of your natural resources; developed
your ingenuity,-learned the technicalities of
your art, so to speak, already. You propose
now, as I understand, to extend your useful-
ness, widen your sphere of action, address your-
self to a larger public, and make a profession
out of what was before only a side issue in
your life. It's a new field, and it's a noble

one, taken in its highest aspect, as you have
always taken it. My motto for you, Polly,
is Goethe's couplet:
What you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."

Make way for the story-teller!" cried Ed-
gar. "I will buy season tickets for both your
groups, if you will only make your limit of age
include me. I am only five feet ten, and I '11
sit very low if you'll only admit me to the
charmed circle. Shall you have a stage name?
I would suggest The Seraphic Sapphira.' "
Now, don't tease," said Polly, with dignity;
" this is in sober earnest. What do you think,
Fairy Godmother? I've written to my dear
Miss Mary Denison in Santa Barbara, and she
likes the idea."
"I think it is charming. In fact, I can
hardly wait to begin. I will be your business
manager, my Pollykins, and we '11 make it a
success if it is possible. If you'll take me
into your confidence .and tell me what you
mean to do, I will plan the hows and whens
and wheres"
"You see, dear people, it is really the only
thing that I know how to do; and I have had
several months' experience, so that I 'm not
entirely untrained. I 'm not afraid any more,
so long as it is only children; though the pres-
ence of one grown person makes me tongue-
tied. Grown-up people don't know how to
listen, somehow, and they make you more con-
scious of yourself. But when the children gaze
up at you with their shining eyes and their
parted lips,- the smiles just longing to be
smiled and the tear-drops just waiting to glis-
ten,- I don't know what there is about it, but
it makes you wish you could go on forever and
never break the spell. And it makes you
tremble, too, for fear you should say anything
wrong. You seem so close to children when
you are telling them stories; just as if a little,
little silken thread spun itself out from one side
of your heart, through each of theirs, until it
came back to be fastened in your own again;
and it holds so tight, so tight, when you have
done your best and the children are pleased
and grateful."
For days after this discussion Polly felt as if




she were dwelling on a mysterious height from
which she could see all the kingdoms of the
earth. She said little and thought much (oh,
that this should come to be written of Polly
Oliver!). The past which she had regretted
with such passionate fervor still fought for a
place among present plans and future hopes.
But she was almost convinced these days that
a benevolent Power might after all be help-
ing her to work out her "own
salvation" in an appointed
way, with occasional weari- .,"
ness and tears, like the
rest of the world.
It was in such a soft-
ened mood that she sat :
alone in church one Sun- ,
day afternoon at vespers. EZdi- ,
She had chosen a place
where she was sure of
sitting quietly by her- ..
self, and where the rum- --
ble of the organ and the
words of the service would
come to her soothingly.
The late afternoon sun
shone through the stained-
glass windows, bringing out
the tender blue on the Virgin
Mary's gown, the white on the
wings of angels and robes of new-
born innocents, the glow of rose ian,
carmine, with here and there a gl,:,n-
ous gleam of Tyrian purple. Then
her eyes fell on a memorial inrdo' l
opposite her. A mother boned with "
grief was seated on some step- of rough-
hewni stones. The glory of her hair
swept about her knees. Her arms were
empty; her hands locked; her head bent.
Above, a little child with hand just extended
to open a great door which was about to
unclose and admit him. He reached up his
hand fearlessly ("and that is faith," thought
Polly), and at the same time he glanced down
at his weeping mother, as if to say, Look up,
mother dear! I am safely in."
Just then the choir burst into a grand hymn
which was new to Polly, and which came to
her with the force of a personal message:

The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;
His blood-red banner streams afar-
Who follows in His train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train.
Verse after verse rang in splendid strength
through the solemn aisles of the church, end-
ing with the lines:
O Gi.:.1, t.:. as may strength be given
1: i.:. l.:1w in His train!

Dr. George's voice came to Polly
'. a_ it sounded that gray October
S .alternolin beside the sea: "When
the -tun of one's happiness has
S et. one lights a little candle
:alle'd Patience and guides one's
kr.tes by that."
S She leaned her head on the
pe w in front of her, and
Lreathed a prayer. The min-
ti,' rtr was praying for the rest
-f tile people, but she needed
S to utter her own thought
just then.
"' Father in heaven, I have
lighted my little candle.
Help me to keep it burn-
ing I shall stumble often
S in the darkness, I know,

when I could walk by
my darling mother's
light, which was like the
sun, so bright, so pure,
so steady! Help me
to keep the little candle
steady, so that it may
throw its beams farther and farther into the path-
way that now looks so dim."

Polly sank to sleep that night in her white
bed in the Pilgrim Chamber; and the name of
the chamber was Peace indeed, for she had a
smile on her lips,- a smile that looked as if the
little candle had in truth been lighted in her
soul, and were shining through her face as
though it were a window.

(To be continued.)



', -a. :* '"" -", l,

te *" '

tD ie --J
livy -
M j .=r=--ti ,y-.

S: iould be :in interesting l;t .t to th>: readers :of thi
magazine that one of \\-hititi.r's l.est-bel.ked poe:mc
%\a ori.c6illi intended ifor a rj,-rerunnrr oil' ST. N-i.-
:.LAs \\lhen the publishers oft" oinF c 1I the first ji\ nile
F. f pe:,rio-dic:dl;, Our N.,:ung Fo:lkc," %were c::,tn. ab,:ut
S '- f.r clel er peo:pl, :to nu ke srri.ni th~iir c virly number.:,
.v,:John G. \\hittier w:tt" lithe rirslt to v i,,rn
the made nj a ppl:lic:.-ttio:.n; they askedd him t: \w rite a,.:'ut
h.i.- toi -liil. Hapijeni, n to: be in the officee of the
: ub hli r .at the rim mn kirng rr.ingemerLrs I.r .-,n.
illIu-trntion., I henird muci h : the C :,'rre,.i:.ndi:r>.:e.

,.. '-

'. Ii1'

:~I '

, i


In response to another letter from Mr. James
T. Fields about the contribution, the poet re-
plied substantially, "Oh, the matter has grown
beyond all bounds! Thee wanted twelve
stanzas, and three times that are now written
and the story has scarcely begun; and, more-
over, I fear thee will not like it." Mr. Fields
telegraphed, "Send it along and let me judge
for myself." The next morning Mr. Fields
thrust the first pages of "Snow-Bound" into
my hand, remarking, What do you think of
that for a Christmas book? There is a picture
in every line "; and truly it was so. The sheets
were sent back with just eight words attached:
"Make it as long as you can. Splendid!"
Two months later the poem was finished, and
I was on my way to Amesbury for an interview

coolly, taking refuge behind his fierce eyebrows
(the only thing fierce about him, by the way).
After a few minutes' conversation, he advised
me to walk to the top of a neighboring hill,
and see the view, instead of "wasting my
time with him. Late in the day, on my way
toward his house, I came upon a charming
effect among the willows of Powow River. I
blundered in upon the poet with enthusiastic
exclamations concerning the river and the sun-
set sky. He made no reply, but his eyes
flashed for a moment, and he handed me a
volume, turning to a certain page and stanza,
where I found almost word for word, the effect
I had described to him. The ice was broken;
we saw a little alike. And soon I found out
what had disturbed his usual serenity.


with the poet and to gather material in the
locality for illustrations. I had never met Mr.
Whittier, and with his usual shyness toward
strangers he received me, as I thought, rather

It appeared that a talkative woman had in-
vaded his study and read some of his own
poems to him, and, after boring the poor man
for two hours, had added the last straw by






O.-LD CNR_ --- AC" ..H.. W E -


requesting a lock of his hair. This was too
much for even him to endure. The old poet
rose to his full height, stalked to the door,
held it open, and solemnly remarked to the
unfortunate visitor, "Madam, I should think
thee could see I have none to spare!"
For some reason, he seemed very averse to
my visiting his birthplace; probably its run-
down condition troubled his loving memory.
"Thee can make a much better picture from
thy imagination and the poem than by going
there. Moreover, it is guarded by a dragon, and
a very untidy dragon at that, and thee will
not find the old fireplace that is described, but
a modern Yankee cooking-stove, and a general
commonplace air that will discourage thee."
I could only reply," I am instructed by the
publishers to go up to the old homestead and
make sketches on the spot, and go I must."
Well, the place was not promising, although
I keenly enjoyed scenting out the happy hunt-
ing-ground dear to every American boy to
whom the poet appeals in his direct description
of the fun when with
Mittened hands, and caps drawn low,
To guard our necks and ears from snow,

We cut the solid whiteness through.
And where the drift was deepest, made
A tunnel, walled and overlaid
With dazzling crystal: we had read
Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,
And .to our own his name we gave,
With many a wish the luck were ours
To test his lamp's supernal powers.
And when I came upon the old well-sweep,
I remembered that
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof
In its slant splendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa's leaning miracle.
The woman in charge, a foreigner, justified
the poet's warning. It was very difficult to
make her understand what I wanted. But, at
last, after considerable parley, I succeeded in
having that objectionable cooking-stove and
fire-board removed; and to my joy there were
the very cranes and hooks and chains that had
helped to cook the dinners fifty years before;
and it took but little imagination to fancy that
between the andiron's straddling feet
The mug of cider simmered slow.
Being so far fortunate, I requested that I
might go up garret, and see if I could find any



of the old furniture. This was strongly objected
to, but finally I penetrated the dark and dusty
old attic, and again to my joy found remnants of
old spinning-wheels, chairs, and tables. These
I carried down-stairs and propped up around
the room; and then I went to work, getting a
very fair sketch of the interior as it looked
seventy-five years ago, when "The old rude-
furnished room, burst, flower-like, into rosy
bloom" by the hearth's light.
After working till nightfall, making several
other sketches about the place, I returned to
Amesbury, and found the poet in his study.
His bright black eyes twinkled in the expecta-
tion of hearing of my discomfiture. I said not
a word, but opened my sketch-book at the
page illustrating the kitchen interior. The effect
was startling; his face quivered; he started to

his feet, and hastened around the study table,
the sketch-book in his hands, and the tears run-
ning down his cheeks, crying, How did thee
do it? how did thee do it? 'T is just as we
knew it near a half-century ago! "
I need not say that during the week spent
under his roof I became very intimate with the
poet, and his sweet personality made an im-
pression on me that will never be effaced. His
pure and noble life was an ever present inspira-
tion, and through all the intervening years of
friendship this grand and simple-hearted man
made those about him sensible of a benign in-
fluence,- as
The traveler owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.



LITTLE Prince Carl he stole
From the gold-laced guard
and the powdered page,
And the ladies in waiting, who
night and day
Kept their bird in a gilded

Alone in the twilight gray and
He climbed on the carven
chair of state,
And there with a smile suffi-
ciently grim,
And a royal air, His High-
ness sate.




He folded his arms with a mighty mien,-
Little Prince Carl, the son of a king,-
But never an auditor was to be seen,
Save the pea-green cockatoo, perched in his swing!

And rebellion shone in His Highness' eyes:
When I am a king full-grown," said he,
"I fear there is going to be surprise
At some of the things this court shall see!

"With the Dowager Duchess I shall begin;
When I say, Stand forth!' she shall bow her low.
'For me to jump you have said was a sin;
I command you to jump wherever you go!'

"The Court Physician I next shall take:
'And you,. I hear, have declared it best
That I, your monarch, shall not eat cake,-
Plum-cake, too, of the very best!-

"'Well, you are to eat a gallon of rice,
And nothing besides, for every meal;



I am sure 't is quite "wholesome," "nourishing," "nice,"
But I know quite well just how you feel!'
"Now let the Lord Chamberlain have a care!"
His Highness' voice took a terrible ring;
He rurhpled his curls of yellow hair,
And the pea-green cockatoo shook in its swing!
"'Down! Get down on your knocking knees,
Down with your smile and your snuff-box, too!'
I will thunder, and now 't is time, if you please,
To settle an old, old score with you!





"'What became of those three white mice
That crept from the royal nursery door,
After you said if they did it twice
They should never be heard of any more?
"'I know, for I heard the little one squeak!
And I ran and stopped my ears up tight.
You need not squirm, and you need not speak,
For your fate shall be settled this very night.
"'In the darkest depths of the dungeon lone
You are to live; but do not fear,
For company livelier than your own
You shall have three million mice a year!'"
The little Prince clapped his hands in glee,
And laughed aloud at this fancying,-
Oh, a rare and a wonderful monarch he!-
And the pea-green cockatoo hopped in its swing:
When out of the twilight a slow voice rolled;
There stood the High Chamberlain, stern, who said:
"I regret to state that I 've just been told
It is time for Your Highness to go to bed!"
And lo! not a word did His Highness say!-
He went at once, like the son of a king.
But his bright curls drooped as he walked away,
And the cockatoo's head went under its wing.

VoL. XX.-28.




[Beegun it /ie November number.]
THE first to escape from doubts and difficul-
ties, that morning, was the little blackfellow; for
he found the spot where his friends had eaten
their barbecue and danced their corroboree.
He also found some kangaroo bones, but more
important to him were half a dozen of the gum-
tree roots, for he was thirsty.
All his anxiety was now gone, for he could
follow the trail of the party. He at once set
out vigorously, and it was well for him that his
tremendous budget of news did not weigh any-
Perhaps the next to discover something new
were the pair of white boys. They had been
wondering, for half a mile, at Beard's easy
strength as he strode along under the weight
of a big kangaroo upon his shoulder. At
length he put it down upon the grass, and re-
marked, "Here we are, boys. We are safe
now. I '11 put you into my house, and shut the
door after you, and then even blackfellows
can't find you."
It's the biggest tree I ever saw, but I don't
see any house," Ned remarked.
It's the biggest house you ever saw, too,"
said Beard, and the deepest cellar, and high-
est and steepest roof. It will hold plenty of
people, too, after they once get in. But the
front door 's a little narrow. Wait until you
see the back door, though."
Hugh stared up at the dizzy height of the
tree and searched among the rocks and bushes.
Where is the door ?" he asked.
Can't you see it ?" said Beard. Follow
me, and I'11 unlock it for you."
He led them a few steps farther through the
bushes, and they found themselves in a hollow
between two gnarled roots of the tree. Behind

and over them was a dense green cover of
vines and branches and tall weeds; and in front
of them was the rugged face of the bark, with
a large flat stone leaning against it.
Beard moved the stone, took out a wide
piece of bark, and then they saw a hole.
"That's the door," said Beard. "I'll go in
and you follow me. Then I '11 come out and
bring in this kangaroo, and go back after the
other. Then I can close up the house."
He crept in on all-fours.
"I carry my things in on my back," he said,
-"game, and coal, and wood, and everything.
I have to go some distance for my coal."
Hugh went down on all-fours and followed
Beard. Ned imitated them. They did not
say a word until Beard remarked:
There, boys, I've found a torch. Have
you matches? Give me one." In a moment
more there was a blaze, and they began to see
about them.
Hugh," exclaimed Ned, look at the stal-
actites and stalagmites! It is a cave, and like
some we have in America. What a splendid
house to live in !"
Did n't I tell you so ?" said Beard, "and
it's the biggest house you ever saw. When I
was here last, I brought in heaps and heaps of
wood and coal, chiefly because I 'd nothing
else to do. We '11 light a fire in the fireplace,
and then we'll go and hang the meat in my
refrigerator, so that it will keep. If we don't,
it '11 spoil soon in this hot December weather."
"Your refrigerator ?" said Hugh. Oh, is n't
this jolly! Come on, Ned, I want to see the
Beard went back after the kangaroos, and
before his return they had plenty of time to
kindle the fire in the fireplace he had pointed
out, and then to examine all the splendid white-
ness. They had very little to say. There was
so much of it to see that they could not pick

out the right words to tell how it looked. They
piled wood upon the fire, excusing themselves
by promising they would bring in more for him,
and every fresh knot which kindled brightly
showed them something new and beautiful.
Now, boys," said Beard, when he came
back, "you shall see the refrigerator, and then
I'11 go out and scout a little. Pick up that
rope and bring it with you. Take the torch,
too. Go ahead, Ned."
Ned walked on in advance, carrying the
torch, in the direction of a mysterious crash
and roar they had been puzzling over ever
since they entered the cave.
"I 've read about such things," said Ned,
as Beard explained the chasm and the torrent.
They seem to have them in all the big caves.
I wonder if there are any fish in this one.
Sometimes there are blind fish."
I never tried for any fish," said Beard; "but
if you hang meat far down in the depths there,
it will almost freeze. There's always a draft
of air and a spray of water, making a continual
evaporation. It's a regular freezing process."
Beard slung the kangaroo carefully over the
edge, and let it down.
"There," said he, "I '11 go back for the
other. We must n't waste any provisions."
He was not long in returning with his second
"Boys," he remarked, as he put it down, "we
were only just in time. I heard one of those
land-pirates 'coo-ee-e' just as I was picking up
the kangaroo."
"What do you mean by 'pirates'?" asked
"Land-pirates," replied Beard with emphasis,
"They may be old convicts, but I don't know.
They are robbers, anyhow, of the worst kind."
We 've had any number of our sheep
stolen," said Hugh, "but not from the pastures
that extend this way."
This way?" exclaimed Beard. "Why, you
are nowhere near any of your land; you 've
been getting away from it. You could n't get
back to the edge of it in three days' travel, if
you did your best."
"This makes seven days since we came out,-
a whole week!" said Hugh. "Oh, if I only
knew where the rest of the party are! "


I '11 find them for you," said Beard; "but
I want two or three of Ka-kak-kia's blackfel-
lows to help me, if I can get them."
Can you trust them ? asked Ned.
"Trust them? No !" replied Beard promptly.
But they '11 do anything for plenty to eat and
drink; and if your party is strong, they will be
afraid of it. I don't know how it is, but I 've
been safe among them, year after year. That
is-pretty safe. They try to kill me, every now
and then; and after they fail we make up."
"They are a queer people," said Ned.
"They are not like any other," said Beard.
"But we will hang this second kangaroo in the
refrigerator, and then I '11 go out and see what
those fellows are doing."
The game was attended to, and then the
boys followed him almost to his front door as
he went out.
"You stay right here," said Beard, as he left
them, "unless I am gone too long. I won't be
long, unless something happens to me."
The boys felt they were wonderfully well hid-
den. Nobody, except Beard, knew where they
were. In fact, their party did not know just
where they themselves were.
The six men who had lost their coffee-pot, and
were hunting Beard and his nuggets, threaded
the woods, occasionally coo-ee-e-ing to each
other, to keep from getting too widely sepa-
rated. At last one pair of them stumbled upon
so sudden a surprise that the shouts they gave
made the woods ring. Not many minutes later,
all six had collected around the remains of the
boys' deserted camp-fire, and were staring at
the marks upon the ground, and at the water-
Boys," said Jim, he 's got somebody with
him,- fellows with boots on. He was bare-
footed himself. Now we 've got to move
carefully." The man called Bill remarked:
"What beats me is, who can it be that 's
with him? Why, he dares n't gQ into any set-
tlement-he 'd be hung as sure as they caught
him. That 's what makes it safe for us to go
after him."
"We 'll track him right along now, anyway,"
said Jim. We 've struck his trail."
At that very moment there were morning
visitors in the camp which the robbers had left



unguarded, at the foot of the great stump, for
Ka-kak-kia and his five followers had stumbled
upon something entirely unexpected in their
search among the woods. They were looking

hunters work their way in. But immediately
after they discovered that the camp was un-
guarded, they were gathered around its smol-
dering fire. They jabbered for a few minutes,


for a pair of white fellows, and now, instead of
them, they had discovered the trails of three
times as many other white fellows and of a lot
of horses. Slowly and cautiously did the black

and then, as if with one accord, they became
silent, for they had decided what to do.
Horses they did not want, and there was little
else to take, excepting a kettle, two frying-pans,





some blankets, and the provisions. Beard's six
enemies were not men who would bring a need-
less article with them, even if they had owned
one. The blackfellows themselves, expecting
to be pursued, took only what they could hand-
ily carry. They made short work of it, and
then seemed to vanish, so suddenly did they
slip away. Meanwhile the white robbers fin-
ished their visit to the camp by the waterfall,
and once more pushed on, following the trail
of the horses. They moved silently and with
caution, feeling sure that their prey was at
hand. They passed the jungle in which Beard
had hidden the saddles and bridles, to the point
where the hoof-marks ceased upon the rocky
level. Here they turned and went up the
rugged hillside, expecting every moment to dis-
cover some sign of a human habitation.
Boys!" suddenly exclaimed Bill. Lie low !
See the smoke! "
"Smoke?" exclaimed his companions, and
they hid themselves.
"That must be from his fire," said Jim.
"He 's there. We 've got him this time -
nuggets and all!"
They worked their way forward with watch-
ful, feverish eagerness. There was indeed a
column of blue smoke arising above the ledges
ahead of them, and there must needs be a
fire; and a fire must be a sure tell-tale of the
hands which kindled it.
They were by no means in error. Never-
theless, they drew nearer and nearer to that
smoke cloud without discovering any chimney.
He must be there, somewhere," said one
of them, as he stealthily looked out from be-
hind a shattered boulder. "I can't see any
sign of a cabin, though. Hullo!"
He stepped out and walked forward, fol-
lowed by his party, all with their eyes and
mouths opening in wonder.
"Volcany exclaimed Bill. "Did you know
there was any volcanies round here ? I never
heard of any."
"It 's a volcano!" said another. No
mistake about that."
"Smells like pine-wood, too," said Jim.
" It 's a pitch-burnin' volcano. I 've heard
tell of such."
The smoke came hotly up through a crev-

ice in one of the ledges. It seemed to be
carried by a strong draft, as if through a nat-
ural chimney.
I say, boys," remarked Jim, "when I first
saw that smoke, I was just sure we 'd found
his house."
They stood around that puzzle, and then
they gave it up, and climbed down again to
take another hunt for the lost trail. They had
a great deal to say about volcanoes, as they
went, until they changed the subject, and then
they spoke of big trees. Several declared that
they had seen taller trees than one they were
approaching. Then each added that he was n't
quite sure, and he 'd take a closer look at it.
They went closer, and they looked, and
wondered, and they argued about what they
had done and were going to do.
The bushes at the foot of the tree were thick,
and made a good place for six warm, tired men
to sit down and talk. It was shady, and just
behind them there was a curious crack in the
bark of the tree, between two of its roots, and
behind the crack there were two faint whispers.
"Hush-sh, Hugh! It is lucky we did n't
try to get out any sooner."
"Listen, Ned! We can find out all about
them. Hear that?"
Hugh and Ned heard the conclusion of their
Come on, boys," said Jim. We 're on the
right track, anyhow. Let 's go back to camp
and get our horses and truck, and then make
another search here. He is n't far away, now.
We can settle the two fellers with him easy
Ned and Hugh nudged each other as they
heard that. The others agreed with Jim. Then
they arose and walked away.
After they were at a safe distance, the bark
door opened entirely, and the two boys crept
Hugh," said Ned, "I 'm glad to see day-
light again. I just could n't stay cooped up
there any longer! "
"It did seem an awful long time," said
Hugh. "I wish I knew what 's become of
Beard. What has kept him away so long ? "
"I hope nothing 's happened to him," said
Ned. Did you hear those fellows say that




they 'd found the place where the smoke gets
out ?"
Boys," said a deep voice behind them, that
startled them tremendously, "I 'm glad you
heard what those pirates had to say. Tell me
all about it. There are lots of blackfellows in
the woods, and I had to get home through
the side door. I found you 'd come out this
"The side door ? exclaimed Hugh. "I
did n't know there was any."
S"Yes, there is," replied Beard; but I 'm not
sure that you and I will ever get out alive
though any sort of door."

SIR FREDERICK PARRY was an exceedingly
prosperous man. He was a baronet; a gentle-
man of high rank; educated; accomplished;
very good-looking. He owned estates in Eng-
land, and he had a fine sheep-farm in Australia,
with a remarkable farm-house in the middle of
it. But he was also a wretchedly miserable per-
son. He was pale at one moment and very
red-faced the next, as his thoughts came and
went; and he was savagely out of temper all
the time.
"It is of no use!" he muttered hoarsely.
"I 'm too sick at heart to coo-ee-e any more.
Where can my wife be ?"
At that moment something flashed closely
past his head, making a buzzing sound as it
went; but it was not an insect nor a bird, and
the baronet spurred his horse forward with a
quick, fierce exclamation.
"A spear!" he exclaimed. "The blackfel-
lows !"
No second spear followed, and Sir Frederick
drew his rein hard, as he looked back and saw
a gaunt, black shape bounding along among
the trees. The baronet had a shot-gun with
him, and he must have been accustomed to
shooting from the saddle, for up it came to his
shoulder. Out rang a loud report, and a shower
of buckshot pattered sharply all around the
bounding blackfellow.
It was long range," said Sir Frederick, "and
they scattered; but I touched him."

For the savage had dropped upon the ground,
and was holding up one of his feet to look
at it. A solitary buckshot, nearly spent, had
struck a little above the big-toe joint. It was
not at all a dangerous hurt, but for a while there
could be no more bounding or fast running
upon that foot. The blackfellow rubbed the
foot, and chattered angrily as he did so. Sir
Frederick watched him for a moment, but did
not lift his gun again.
"I hope that will be enough," he said, as he
once more rode forward.
The necessity of keeping a lookout for spears
and other missiles gave him something to oc-
cupy his mind. He carefully reloaded his gun.
"If they follow me," he said, "they may be
less likely to find Maude."

In another part of the forest, his wife was
wandering aimlessly. She was very pale, and
her horse looked as if she must have ridden
rapidly in her fruitless efforts to find her hus-
band. She herself took notice of his condition,
and in a moment more she halted him.
"He ought to have water," she said. I 've
been almost cruel to him. I '11 dismount and
let him rest, if I can find a place that looks
It was not difficult to pick out a grassy hollow
bordered by dense thickets, and Lady Parry
dismounted. She gathered up the long skirt of
her riding-habit, and walked on for a few paces,
and then suddenly sank upon the ground be-
tween two of the bushes.
"Blackfellows! she whispered. Oh, I
hope they have n't seen me!"
They had not seen her, because they were
gazing intently in another direction. They
were stealthily moving away from her, for they
had passed through the very thicket where she
was now lying.
Poor Helen she murmured, as she looked
out at the receding forms of the blackfellows.
" I hope she has found her way back into the
Helen Gordon's light-footed pony had only
carried her farther and farther away from it, in
zigzag paths that were but bewildered wander-
I 'm so thirsty," she said at last; and Nap



must be as thirsty as I am. Where can we be!
Oh, if I could see somebody! "
It was only a minute or so before her lips
opened again, and this time it was in almost
joyful exclamation.
"The river! she shouted. "We can drink,
and the camp can't be far away. Hurrah!"
She dismounted, stooped, and drank from her
hand until her thirst was gone. Then she led
her pony to the water's edge. All the while,
however, a thoughtful shadow overcast her face.
The camp is on the bank of the river," she
said. "That 's sure; but am I above it or
below it ? Ought I to go up-stream or down-
stream ? I have n't the least idea; and if I go
wrong, I shall only be riding further away.
What shall I do?"
She sat down in the shade of a tree to think,
while Nap found a very good dinner for him-
self growing all around him.

Beard stood with the boys under the great
tree. He made them repeat to him all they had
Volcano ? he said, half laughing. "It 's
all right, though. The smoke goes out there,
but it can't tell tales that will do any harm.
They can't get in by that way, and they can't
find any other, unless we get careless and help
them. I think very likely they have found
your old camp by the waterfall, and have
gone back there. It 's a good spot for a
"Mr. Beard," exclaimed Hugh, "I hardly
know in what direction that is from here.
Where does that river run to, from that place ?
What 's the nearest road to it from here ? "
Where does it run to ? replied the cave-
man. Why, it wanders off among the moun-
tains, I don't know where. It runs all around
this mountain. You can reach it that way, be-
low, as well as by going back to the waterfall.
Your father's party must be somewhere below
"I wish I could find them," said Hugh.
We must be careful," said Beard. "We 're
in a bend of the river, with the mountains be-
hind us, in the bend, and the forest in front
of us. We 're sure that your father is n't

How ? asked Hugh. I 'm all mixed up.
How are we sure? "
"Because," said Beard, water does n't run
up-hill. The Grampians is lower than this
mountain country. He has n't crossed the
water, and he has n't crossed the mountain-
range. There 's only one pass through the
range, and it 's the one those robbers followed.
We '11 eat dinner now; and then I 'm going
to scout up toward their camp and know what
they 're doing. This will be an exciting day, if
I 'm not mistaken. Don't you feel hungry ? "
They crept quickly in; Beard followed and
closed the door behind him, and in a few min-
utes more the infant volcano, away up at the
chimney-top on the mountain-side, was puffing
smoke at a great rate.
Beard seemed disposed to eat very rapidly,
as if he had important work before him. Soon
he said:
"I must know what they 're doing. When
you go out, shut up the door tightly and don't
go far. Keep under cover, too."
"All right," said Ned, as the cave-man
picked up his rifle and strode away.
Ned," asked Hugh, do you know any
more about all that geography than you did
before he explained it ? "
Not much," said Ned, thoughtfully. I
know there 's a bend in the river and another
in the mountain, and the cave is in the bend,
and the river does n't run up-stream."
"That 's all I know," said Hugh. It 's
mixed; but here we are, and he says that
father's camp must be below, and he thinks
he 'can find it. I hope he can."
He means to try it to-night, if he finds the
woods clear enough," said Ned, holding out
another chop to the fire.

No sooner had the white rascals regained
their camp, than they saw something was
Boys shouted Jim, the instant he walked
in and looked around him. "Somebody 's been
here "
"The horses are all right," shouted a man
who had gone to look for them.
Horses! exclaimed another. "We can't
eat horses! Where 's the bacon? "



The bacon was hunted after in vain, and so
were other articles upon which they had relied
for dinner. They soon gave up trying to ex-
press their feelings about it.
We 've got to find that fellow, and find
him right away," said Jim;" but first we must
change camp, and then hunt game or starve."
No, we won't," said Bill. "We kin ketch
fish. We won't starve. We '11 git the nuggets,
too, if we 're not speared by the blackfellows."

Bob McCracken, and the other men belong-
ing to the camp of Sir Frederick Parry, rode
into it again to cook and eat their dinner; but
they were a crestfallen company, and even the
horses they dismounted from had a jaded look.
So had Yip and the two hounds.
"There 's no use denying it," said Bob, as
he poured out four cups of the coffee he had
made, "Sir Frederick 's lost himself, just as
those two young fellers lost themselves, and


The blackfellows will never come near such
a crowd as this, if we keep together," said an-
other man confidently.
But even as he spoke, a pair of dark, search-
ing eyes were watching him through a tangle
of thick vines, and Ka-kak-kia was remarking
in his own tongue:
"Too many rifles. Kill blackfellows by day.
Can't kill so well with rifles after dark. Wait
till night. Then blackfellows have a chance to
spear them." He said something more about
waddy-clubs and their uses, but he lay very still
while the white fellows saddled their horses and
mounted, and dolefully rode away.

her leddyship's gone off and lost herself, and
whether she 's got the young leddy with her
or Sir Frederick, there 's no telling."
"Bob," groaned Marsh, the driver of the
mule-team, "we 're as much lost as any of
'em -excepting that we 've got enough to eat
and drink."
"You're not a leddy!" exclaimed Bob.
"Think of that! Don't I wish her leddyship
and Miss Helen had a cup of this coffee!"
It was a curious time; so many different par-
ties, dodging around in those woods, each group
of persons ignorant of where the others were,
and of what they were doing.




Ned," said Hugh, as soon as they had fin-
ished their dinner, "I 'm puzzled about that
side door; where is it, and how did he get in? "
We'd be likely to get lost in the cave, or to
break our necks, if we tried to find out," said
Ned. "Let 's do as he said, and go out and
look around."
Hugh agreed to that, and they started; but
both found much to say about the wonders of
the place they were in.
"Beard must have been burrowing like a
woodchuck, when he found it," remarked Ned,
as he crept out into the open air.
I can't guess how he did it," replied Hugh;
and then he turned to fit the bark slab into its
They had an idea of the direction in which
Beard had gone, and they quickly decided
about their own.
"We can't stay here, doing nothing," said
Ned; "and we might find some of our folks.
Let 's each take a separate track. We must n't
go too far, and we can be back in an hour
or so. Beard may be here by that time. What
do you say ? "
"All right," said Hugh. "But remember
what he said about keeping well under cover.
I '11 go this way."
So the American boy slipped away in one
direction, and the English boy in another, each
with his heart beating, his fingers tingling, and
his eyes watching keenly every sight and sound
of the luxuriant bush" around him.
Two or three miles beyond them, there was
a very remarkable meeting at about that hour.
A tall blackfellow, with a handful of sticks, was
limping along painfully on his left foot, to which
something had happened, when there came run-
ning to catch up with him a black boy who had
picked up an old dry branch for the sake of
having a stick to carry.
No white man could have understood the
quick rattle of hard words which followed; but
the man was the boy's father, and they were
both intensely interested.
All the while the wounded father limped on-

ward. Fast walking was impossible, however,
and at last he consented to sit down, while his
son and heir (heir to all the sticks he owned)
once more pushed forward, alone, to tell his
story to the other blackfellows--and a very
proud boy was he.
They, at least, would soon have news con-
cerning other people, and perhaps they would
know what to do with it; but the four white
fellows in Sir Frederick's camp grew more and
more troubled over the sad fact that they had
no news whatever.
They sat around and rested for a while after
dinner, and let their horses crop the grass; but
at last Bob McCracken sprang to his feet, ex-
claiming loudly, "I can't stay here! Call the
dogs, and we will go out for another hunt
after Sir Frederick and the leddies."
Every man of them shouted a ready assent,
and they called the dogs. "Yip, Yip! Pomp!
Caesar!" They called and called, but there
was no response. They searched all around
the camp, but not a dog was to be found, and
the four men stood still at last, and looked
at one another.
I 've heard of such things," groaned Marsh.
'"The blackfellows have stolen 'em!"
Nonsense! exclaimed Bob. It 's that
dog Yip. He 's scented something, and he 's
led off the two hounds to hunt it up. He '11
get them all lost in the woods-and what '11
Sir Frederick say to that?"
"I don't know," said Brand. "He set
great store by those dogs. It 's no fault of
ours, anyhow."
Yip and the hounds had indeed seemed to
hold a conference after eating dinner. They
had then gone to the river and lapped water.
They had listened to the talk of the four men,
and they had whined and yawned, and Yip
had barked once or twice. Then he had wor-
ried hither and thither in the outskirts of the
camp for some minutes, and had given a small,
suppressed yelp. The hounds came to him
at once, and when he trotted off into the
woods, they followed him.

(To be continued.)




THE Chinaman praiseth his T's,
The mandarin praiseth his Q,
The gardener praiseth his turnips and P's,
But I praise U.

The mariner loveth the C's,
The billiardist loveth his Q,
The husbandman loveth his cattle and B's,
But I love U.

The foolish have need of.the Y's,
The actor needeth his Q,
The pilot hath need of two excellent I's,
But I need U.

The hunter seeketh the J's,
The shepherd seeketh his U;
The college boys seek their final "B-A's,"
But I C Q.

C .y ..^ .-.. --M

TEACHER: First class in Catchology, rise. Miss Pussy, you will please solve the following
problem: Suppose a mouse were running in an oblique line, B D; suppose you had jumped in
a parabolic curve and had missed him, the animal keeping on in an oblique line; what would
you do next?
MIss PussY: I would jump in another parabolic curve and catch him at D.
TEACHER: Quite correct.



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as quite 0 'tupib bort,
Although., t everything,
&s8 Jaesty uwoulb roar
SWh r "a nothing in i tbaff
aib b~"to cae me milrtb,
ilut %till I hawe to tIaur
i5) pt my moneyY woDrth


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-.2--...-' v'*'. ILDLY flew the
S- snowflakes. They
:-. were gathering
'into great clans.
SThey clung to-
Sgether in strong and
4 beautiful clouds, and
then began moving
slowly northward
across the cool gray sky. Not very
long before, they had been little blue
drops of water in a tropic sea. But one day the
sun sent down from the sky long, slender little
ladders of sunbeams, and the pretty blue drops
began climbing up, up into the sky, and there
they received new gowns, not blue any longer,
but gray, of filmy gauze.
Then they found themselves sailing across the
sky in the large gray clouds, and as they went
farther and farther north, it grew colder and
colder; but Nature kept watch of them always,
like a thoughtful mother, and as it grew colder

she changed their pretty gowns of gray gauze,
this time into soft white wool that was very
warm and comfortable; for although you and I
think the snow is very cold, it is really like
a thick warm blanket over the earth in win-
ter, and protects the roots of the flowers and
the grass, and keeps them safe and warm un-
derground until it is safe and warm for them
So the many little drops of water clinging
together in the great cloud were quite com-
fortable and happy, wrapped in their white
wool; but after a while they grew tired of the
Very, very far to the north they had trav-
eled now, and one day a great storm-cloud let
down little silvery ropes. of mist to the sea, and
although they were not quite so tempting as
the golden sun-ladders that the little drops had
climbed up by, they seized the opportunity and
slid down and down on the mist, and fell at
last on what seemed like a big bed of ice.


It was not really ice, but was made of snow-
flakes, like themselves, that had been falling
from the sky for years and years, and had
grown quite stiff and almost like ice from lying
still so long, and being constantly pressed closer
and closer together, as more and more snow-
flakes kept falling from the sky. At last the
bed of snowflakes that had turned into some-
thing no longer soft, and yet not quite like ice,-
more, perhaps, like chalk,- was more than a
thousand feet thick. It was called a "glacier";
and it is not quite true that it was so stiff
because the solid snowflakes had lain still so
long, for the glacier did move a little a
very, very little every day; and if it kept on so
patiently, although so slowly, in fifty or a hun-
dred years the little snowflakes we have been
following would reach the sea again,-not
their own blue tropic sea that they remem-
bered so lovingly, but a gray cold sea. And
yet they had heard such wonderful stories of
the adventures that befell the icebergs which
drifted off from the glacier as soon as it
reached the sea, that our little flakes were not
at all frightened, and, grown quite experienced
now from so much travel, were only curious to
find out what would happen to themselves.
They knew that somewhere, very far to the
south, even this cold gray sea melted into the
warm bright one of the tropics; and although
they had enjoyed the experience of finding
themselves cool and white, they were quite
ready now to become once more blue and
warm. They thought they had done their
share of the glacier's work, for they had been
now in the cold arctic regions for several hun-
dred years (which I am sure you will acknow-
ledge is a long time to wait for anything).
Every day they slid a little farther down the
long, gradual slope that led from the mountains
to the sea, but there was some difficulty in
moving even as little as they did, because all
the snowflakes compressed in the big glacier
could not move equally fast. Those that had
fallen last from the sky, and so were on top of
all the rest, could, of course, move along faster
than the others, many of whom were a thou-
sand feet below the surface. When the sun
shone, though it was not a very hot sun in
that cold northern country, it would turn the

little flakes on top, that had become almost like
ice, into drops of water again, and then they
could slip along quite easily for a few feet,
But at night, when the sun disappeared
and it was very cold again, they, too, would
turn cold again and freeze hard to the icy
bed beneath them; while those too far below
the surface to feel the sun at all, even in the
daytime, had to creep along as best they could,
helped by the fact that their way to the sea was
of course a little sloping and a little slippery,
and by being constantly.pressed on all sides by
their millions of companions, all equally eager
for the sea, but not all equally able to travel.
Those that were near the edges of the
glacier, for instance, could not move as fast
as those in the middle. There were stones and
all sorts of rubbish along the sides of the gla-
cier, that those on the edges had to contend
against. Sometimes they could manage only
by carrying all the stones and rubbish along,
too; all of which took up still more time. So
once in a while those that were kept back
grew very impatient, and suddenly there would
be a grand quarrel, and all the compressed
snowflakes that had been keeping so close to-
gether would separate, and a great crevice, or
crevasse, or gulf, would appear between them,
so that the whole glacier would be badly
scarred with the signs of their disturbances;
but, on the whole, they all kept moving a little,
steadily down to the sea that was still so far
Every day, from the part of the glacier
that had reached the sea, great blocks in the
form of tall peaks would break away into ice-
bergs that plunged headlong into the tempting
ocean, and then, coming to the surface after
their quick bath, went sailing off by themselves
in search of new adventures. None of them,
however, ever came back to tell what their ad-
ventures had been, unless they had sailed far
enough to the south to melt quite away again
into drops of water that again climbed into
the sky on golden ladders of the sun, and again
floated northward on the big clouds, and again
had fallen into the glacier far up among the
mountains, and again patiently worked their
way to the gray ocean. Several millions of the



little compressed snowflakes, that were com-
panions of those we have been following, had
been through this experience, and they told the
others very thrilling stories of meeting great
steamers on their way to Europe, thronged with
people going for a long vacation.
One day, while our snowflakes were listening
to one of these stories, they caught a glimpse
of the sea they had longed for. In another
moment a tall peak of the glacier, in the middle

glacier. This was not a steamer going to Europe
(for our snowflakes had been on the Pacific
coast, far away to the north), but it was a
steamer whose deck was crowded with people
who had come up to Alaska just on purpose to
see the snow and ice and icebergs and glaciers.
This was certainly very interesting, and one
small block of ice that had broken away from
the rest felt very proud when a boat was low-
ered from the ship and came swiftly toward it,

* C',

, A


T -





of which they happened to be, broke away
from the rest with a loud boom like that of a
cannon, plunged into the water, and rose to the
surface refreshed and brightened by the bath,
and ready to start off on a little trip all by
itself in search of adventures farther south.
But sometimes adventures come to us when
least expected, and although they had hoped
some time to meet one of those great steamers
laden with happy people going to Europe, they
were astonished to find at once a steamer quite
near them, waiting close to the edge of the

evidently meaning to secure it as a prize.
Think of it! They had only expected to meet
a steamer and to look at it, but now they were
really to go on board of it and sail away much
faster than they could have gone all by them-
Very soon, indeed, they were hoisted up to
the deck, but they were a little disappointed
not to be left there among the passengers, who
were admiring the icebergs and the glacier so
much-for the great block of ice was swung
down into the hold just as if it had been merely

I__I~ _i__





a piece of luggage. However, the snowflakes
in the block thought they would not mind be-
ing shut up in the dark awhile if only they
were carried a little more quickly south, south,
south, to the beautiful warm blue tropic sea
that they were homesick for. How proud the
blue ocean down by the equator would be to
welcome them back and hear all their adven-
tures! And how glad they would be to throw
off all their white wool and become again just
little, gentle, soft, gliding drops of water that
could slip along and dance with the wind and
waves so much more easily than they had
moved when shut up in the cold glacier.
But again they were surprised. Suddenly, just
before dinner was to be served to the passengers
in the cabin, a steward came along with a
heavy ax, and began separating the block into
small pieces. They heard him say that the
little boys on board had begged the captain to
give them ice-cream for dinner, and so he was
cutting the ice to pack into the freezer that
held a very nice custard which was to be
frozen hard for the little boys' dessert. It was
rather a trying thought that the ice had come
all this distance and been united all these years,
just at last to be cut up in little bits and
mixed with some salt, and packed into a big
bucket round a tin pail full of custard that
was ,to be whirled round, and round, and
round in it until they were all quite dizzy!
That is one of the queer things of life -that
everything is always wishing it were something
else. Here was this beautiful soft smooth cus-
tard, longing to became a little yellow glacier,
hard, and cold, and stiff; while the little bit of
a glacier from the mountains was longing to
melt into soft liquid drops again. And each
had its wish, and, strange to say, helped the
other to its wish just by having its own. The
ice melted, and becoming colder still as it
melted with the salt, turned the custard into
a hard smooth block that was carried in to
the captain's table and made the little boys
smile with delight. Then suddenly the melted
ice was all poured over the ship's side into the
sea, and the little drops, dancing with joy to
be at home again, went whirling along in the
great ocean currents that carried them so much
faster than the glacier could.

On, and on, and on they floated, till at last
they did reach the blue tropic sea from which
they had started. Oh, how happy they were to
be there again! But how much there is in habit!
They had supposed they would never care to
wander away again, if once they found them-
selves back in the blue sea; but they had not
been there long before they felt again a wild
desire for new and thrilling experiences, and
felt sure they could never be contented just to
be little blue drops forever.
So one day, when they saw another of those
golden ladders of the sun reaching down into
the sea, they began quietly climbing to the sky
And the other drops that were left in the
ocean missed them, and said to one another,
"Where are they gone?" And then again they
said to each other, "They are dead; they have
disappeared forever." But they were not dead;
and they had not disappeared forever. Noth-
ing ever dies; it is only changed. Do you re-
member a story of Hans Andersen's, about the
little flax-flower that thought it was dying when
it was only fading? The flax was made into
beautiful linen, and when the linen was worn
out and seemed to be only rags, the rags were
made into paper, and the paper into a book
that had beautiful stories in it; and when the
book was worn out it was thrown among the
rubbish and into the fire, and turned into flame
and ashes. Then, indeed, it appeared to be
dead; but it was not; it was only changed. Peo-
ple made potash out of the ashes, and many
things were made with the potash, and all in
time seemed to perish themselves, and yet never
did; they were only changed.
And so the little blue drops that had disap-
peared, had only disappeared; they were not
lost or dead. Up in the sky they put on their
dresses of gray gauze again, and again went
sailing away in the wind currents of the sky, on
the great white clouds. This time one of the
gauzy drops floated on the clouds up to Green-
land, and became part of a great glacier there,
and, later still, part of a huge iceberg broken
from the glacier, that came sailing down again
into the open sea. And this time it had the
experience it had wanted: it met a great Eu-
ropean steamer, crowded with passengers who


were looking forward to a long and delightful
vacation. But, alas! experience is not always
what we think it is going to be, even if the very
thing happens that we have wanted to happen.
When the iceberg came quite near to the beau-
tiful ship, alas! the faces on the deck, that ought
to have been so happy, were white with fear.
Fast as the steamer had been going, it could
not now go fast enough to get out of the way
of the iceberg; and although the iceberg had
not meant to do the least harm to the beautiful
ship, it was borne along by currents too deep
and powerful to be turned aside or stopped.
So before it realized at all what danger they
were in, there was a terrible crash as the ice-
berg met the ship, and the ship went down,
down in wreck, with all on board!
Strange that an iceberg, only a mass of snow-
flakes, once so soft and yielding before they
were massed together in this terrible group,
could have the power to destroy so powerful
a tliing :is a great tearmer, fitted %:itli :,il- arnl
tnaci erynr ti: carry hcr :.:' Iast :gan: t "wind
and a'-a\e anii current, aricl r't no t et ucii h
t. etscaple the merely dri'tn: ni)uIitairi cit .sow
arind ice!
And anorl-,ei of the gauzi dr.:.ps that breca n.
'nr,n flakes a second time, hi,:l I:i,,n north ar.i
e:t, and "hen it Lbeg. in flir frlirnm irs cl':'uid
in the 4 %k\, it t.:.: tell on a grieat glacier. bur this
time noi at li>.jcr arnonrg the ,'H- mountains :of
tihe e'.tienlie north,
T--ut a -teep inl arid
.: \:I acier, int the

, !g r e ai r .: .r s t, '
ii i lritt, Irna, -
J 6i

mountains towering indeed above it, but with
lovely flowers growing at its very feet, and de-
licious verdure in the spicy woods around it.
Our snowflake this time melted in the sun
and slipped along on the surface of the glacier,
before others had fallen on it to drive it down
into the depths; and because the green woods
were so near, and because the air was so much
sunnier and softer than it had been farther
north in cold Alaska, it reached the edge of the
glacier much sooner than it had before, and
dropped gently down into the stream below.
It was a quiet little stream, moving softly on
through the woods and among the flowers; but
it reached the sea at last. All the brooks, all
the streams, all the rivers reach the sea at last.
Again it stayed in the sea a little while ; but it
never could long resist,those tempting sunshine
ladders that led up to the sky; and this time,
when it had climbed, it floated southward on
a great cloud,

a Lardeni full -
ut rsc The
ruse l '
tlhrt t hearl .

of the Clui '".
mlcted at once..
and all the 1ir-,

I:1 r -I r, } 5 i .--




shine ladder or ropes of mist, in a gentle rain dewy drops that would fain have clung to the
of silvery showers. And our little drop fell right beautiful flower through every danger that
into the heart of a great crimson rose. There might threaten it now that it had been gath-
ered. But though it was with a sigh that
our poor little drop I'- ll ti thle earth garin,
it soon reioielt find that it hin d naen
jus at thoe tr. i,- ot ... thi Li- ,lh ii.t h .-
S borne the roc e.
: Thre .traiht!. -lende -m ,l'i
kindl ,l la.l e-ror rather .:t r. :,.. for ch.: ,ir-_,i
-t, -mb.Lt .. u nr., o rl stin f1 I niir
.- .- -ri ;ill in the d a.rk, tit a [l- j
Ii; [ n to t. e lig kl. rc i n[ pi i

.-- to try to tell evely experience ,
it was very happy; ut it was not destined to even one little snowflake or drop of dew.

glacier. When the shower was over, some one certain to have happened to it in new and
rose, scattering to the ground again all the never lost; it never died; it was only changed.


Ir: ,i ,,: TPl h I .; L, l l. !.1!., n iel

stay as long in the rose as it had stayed in the I only know this: new and strange things are
glacier. When the shower was over, some one certain to have' happened to it in new and
came out into the garden and gathered the strange ways, but whatever happened, it was
rose, scattering to the ground again all the never lost; it never died; it was only changed.

VOL. XX.-29.

7Iow ,
: ? ,,

?.'!. IT was Midsummer's Day,
'Igi' that delightful point toward
which the whole year climbs and
From which it slips off like an ebbing
wave in the direction of the distant winter. No
wonder that superstitious people in old times
gave this day to the fairies, for it is the most
beautiful day of all. The world seems full of
bird-songs, sunshine, and flower-smells; then
storm and sorrow appear impossible things; the
barest and ugliest spot takes on a brief charm
and, for the moment, seems lovely and desirable.
"That 's a picturesque old place," said a
lady on the back seat of the big wagon in
which Hiram Swift was taking his summer
boarders to drive.
They were passing a low, wide farm-house,
gray from want of paint, with a shabby barn
and sheds attached, all overarched by tall elms.
The narrow hay-field and the vegetable-patch
ended in a rocky hillside, with its steep ledges,
overgrown and topped with tall pines and firs,
which made a dense, green background to the
old buildings.
I don't know about its being like a picter,"
said Hiram dryly, as he flicked away a fly from
the shoulder of his off horse; "but it is n't much
by way of a farm. That bit of hay-field is
about all the land there is that 's worth any-
thing; the rest is all rock. I guess the Widow
Gale does n't take much comfort in its bein'

picturesque. She 'd be glad enough to have
the land made flat if she could."
Oh, is that the Gale farm where the silver-
mine is said to be?"
Yes, marm; at least it's the farm where the
man lived that, 'cordin' to what folks say, said
he 'd found a silver-mine. I don't take a great
deal of stock in the story myself."
"A silver-mine! That sounds interesting,"
said a pretty girl on the front seat, who had
been driving the horses half the way, aided
and abetted by Hiram, with whom she was a
prime favorite. "Tell me about it, Mr. Swift.
Is it a story, and when did it all happen ?"
"Well, I don't know as it ever did happen,"
responded the farmer cautiously; "all I know
for certain is that my father used to tell a story
that, before I was born-nigh on to sixty years
ago that must have been-Squire Asy Allen
that used to live up to that red house on North
street--where you bought the crockery mug,
you know, Miss Rose -come up one day in a
great hurry to catch the stage, with a lump of
rock tied in his handkerchief. Old Roger Gale
had found it, he said, and they thought it was
silver ore; and the Squire was a-takin' it down
to New Haven to get it analyzed.' My father
he saw the rock, but he did n't think much of it
from the looks, till the Squire got back ten days
afterward and said the New Haven professor
pronounced it silver, sure enough, and a rich




specimen; and any man who owned a mine of
it had his fortune made, he said. Then of
course the township got excited, and everybody
talked silver, and there was a great to-do."
"And why did n't they go to work on the
mine at once ?" asked the pretty girl.
"Well, you see, unfortunately, no one knew
where it was, and old Roger Gale had taken
that particular day of all others to fall off his
hay-riggin' and break his neck, and he had n't
happened to mention to any one before doing
it where he found the rock! He was a close-
mouthed old chap, Roger was. For ten years
after that, folks that had n't anything else to do
went about hunting for the silver-mine, but they
gradooally got tired, and now it's nothing' more
than an old story. Does to amuse boarders
with in the summer," concluded Mr. Swift, with
a twinkle. For my part, I don't believe there
ever was a mine."
"But there was the piece of ore to prove it."
"Oh, that don't prove anything, because it
got lost. No one knows what became of it.
An' sixty years is long enough for a story to get
exaggerated in."
I don't see why there should n't be silver in
Beulah township," remarked the lady on the
back seat. "You have all kinds of other min-
erals here soapstone, and mica, and emery,
and tourmalines and beryls."
"Well, ma'am, I don't see nuther, unless
mebbe it 's the Lord's will there should n't be."
It would be so interesting if the mine could
be found! said the pretty girl.
"It would be so, especially to the Gale fam-
ily,- that is, if it was found on their land. The
widow's a smart, capable woman, but it 's as
much as she can do, turn and twist how she
may, to make both ends meet. And there 's
that boy of hers, a likely boy as ever you see,
and just hungry for book-l'arnin', the minister
says. The chance of an eddication would be
just everything to him, and the widow can't
give him one."
It 's really a romance," said the pretty girl
carelessly, the wants and cravings of others
slipping off her young sympathies easily.
Then the horses reached the top of the long
hill they had been climbing, Hiram put on the
brake, and they began to grind down a hill

equally long, with a soft panorama of plumy
tree-clad summits before them, shimmering in
the June sunshine. Drives in Beulah township
were apt to be rather perpendicular, however
you took them.
Some one, high up on the hill behind the
farm-house, heard the clank of the brakes and
lifted up her head to listen. It was Hester
Gale -a brown little girl with quick dark eyes,
and a mane of curly chestnut hair only too apt
to get into tangles. She was just eight years
old, and to her the old farmstead, which the
neighbors scorned as worthless, was a sort of
enchanted land, full of delights and surprises,-
hiding-places which no one but herself knew,
rocks and thickets where she was sure real
fairies dwelt, and cubby-houses sacred to the
use of "Bunny," who was her sole playmate
and companion and the confidant to whom she
told all her plans and secrets.
Bunny was a doll,-an old-fashioned doll,
carved out of a solid piece of hickory-wood,
with a stern expression of face, and a perfectly
unyielding figure, but a doll whom Hester loved
above all things. Her mother and her mother's
mother had played with Bunny, but this only
made her dearer.
The two sat together between the gnarled
roots of an old spruce which grew near the
edge of a steep little cliff. It was one of the
loneliest parts of the rocky hillside, and the
hardest to get at. Hester liked it better than
any of her other hiding-places because no one
but herself ever came there.
Bunny lay in her lap, and Hester was in the
middle of a story, when she stopped to listen to
the wagon grinding down-hill.
"So the little chicken said, Peep Peep!'
and started off to see what the big yellow fox
was like," she went on. "That was a silly
thing for her to do, was n't it, Bunny ? because
foxes are n't a bit nice to chickens. But the
little chicken did n't know any better, and she
would n't listen to the old hens when they told
her how foolish she was. That was wrong, be-
cause it 's naughty to dis-dis-apute your
elders, mother says; children that do are almost
always sorry afterward.
"Well, she had n't gone far before she heard
a rustle in the bushes on one side. She thought


it was the fox, and then she did feel frightened,
you 'd better believe, and all the things she
meant to say to him went straight out of her
head. But it was n't the fox that time; it was
a teeny-weeny little striped squirrel, and he
just said, It 's a sightly day, is n't it ?' and,
without waiting for an answer, ran up a tree.
So the chicken did n't mind him a bit.

him, and his eyes looking as sharp as the row
of gleaming teeth beneath them. Foxes were
rare animals in the Beulah region; Hester had
never seen one before; but she had seen the
picture of a fox in one of Roger's books, so
she knew what it was.
The fox stared at her, and she stared back at
the fox. Then her heart melted with fear like

!_: ,, 4.. ,i '., ,, .. ,.
._ -, ;.. : -.. ,-..

; .

In r .
." rr"1

"Then, by and by, when she had gone a long
way farther off from home, she heard another
rustle. It was just like-oh, what 's that,
Bunny ?"
Hester stopped short, and I am sorry to say
that Bunny never heard the end of the chicken
story, for the rustle resolved itself into-what
do you think ?
It was a fox! A real fox.
There he stood on the hillside, gazing straight
at Hester, with his yellow brush waving behind

rl-e heart ifor Bie little chickn, and sthe lumped
to hpick ut, tirrhein: d nd lo Bwhun Icnyl r: her n
lii an-l r.-'ll'l irr ,'b'L r ., ,,%cr l ,- Lice or" [1ie,
dit. Tle P [Liddi:l-n f: i eii.. iI[t t.irtled rhe l':,x,
!i'd !, ,ji.--A .r.-ired into 'i ,e L.uihe-z with a ase
,*f li- sell,'-, [',ri-lh: ju'r h.:,% or silre i': h ernt.
H :-ter ,:,i.,M; n .r li,.e rol..
"How sorry Roger will be that he was n't
here to see him," was her first thought. Her
second was for Bunny. She turned and stooped
to pick up the doll -and lo! Bunny was not
High and low she searched, beneath grass
tangles, under "juniper saucers," among the
stems of the thickly massed blueberries and
hardhacks, but nowhere was Bunny to be seen.
She peered over the ledge, but nothing met her
eyes below but a thick growth of blackish,
stunted evergreens. This place "down below"
had been a sort of terror to Hester's imagina-
tion always, as an entirely unknown and unex-




plored region; but in the cause of the beloved
Bunny she was prepared to risk anything, and
she bravely made ready to plunge into the
It was not so easy to plunge, however. The
cliff was ten or twelve feet in height where she
stood, and ran for a considerable distance to
right and left without getting lower. This way
and that she quested, and at last found a crevice
where it was possible to scramble down,-a
steep little crevice, full of blackberry briers,
which scratched her face and tore her frock.
When at last she gained the lower bank, this
further difficulty presented itself: she could
not tell where she was. The evergreen thicket
nearly met over her head, the branches got
into her eyes and buffeted and bewildered her.
She could not make out the place where she
had been sitting, and no signs of Bunny could
be found. At last, breathless with exertion,
tired, hot, and hopeless, she made her way
out of the thicket and went, crying, home to
her mother.
She was still crying and refusing to be com-
forted, when Roger came in from milking. He
was sorry for Hester, but not so sorry as he
would have been had his mind not been full of
troubles of his own. He tried to console her
with a vague promise of helping her to look
for Bunny "some day when there was n't so
much to do." But this was cold comfort, and
in the end Hester went to bed heartbroken, to
sob herself to sleep.
Mother," said Roger, after she had gone,
"Jim Boies is going to his uncle's in New
Ipswich, in September, to do chores and help
round a little, and to go all winter to the
The New Ipswich Academy was quite a fa-
mous school then, and to go there was a great
chance for a studious boy.
"That 's a bit of good luck for Jim."
"Yes; first-rate."
Not quite so first-rate for you."
No (gloomily). I shall miss Jim. He's
always been my best friend among the boys.
But what makes me mad is that he does n't
care a bit about going. Mother, why does n't
good luck ever come to us Gales ? "
It was good luck for me when you came,

Roger. I don't know how I should get along
without you."
"I 'd be worth a great deal more to you if I
could get a chance at any sort of schooling.
Does n't it seem hard, Mother? There 's
Squire Dennis and Farmer Atwater, and half
a dozen others in this township, that are all
ready to send their boys to college, and they
don't want to go! Bob Dennis says that
he 'd far rather do teaming in the summer, and
take the girls up to singing practice at the
church, than go to all the Harvards and Yales
in the world; and I, who 'd give my head,
almost, to go to college, can't It does n't
seem half right, Mother."
"No, Roger, it does n't; not a quarter. There
are a good many things that don't seem right
in this world, but I don't know who 's to mend
'em. I can't! The only way is to dig along
hard and do what 's to be done as well as you
can, whatever it is, and make the best of your
'musts.' There 's always a 'must.' I suppose
rich people have them as well as poor ones."
Rich people's boys can go to college."
"Yes,-and mine can't. I 'd sell all we 've
got to send you, Roger, since your heart is so
set on it, but this poor little farm would n't be
half enough, even if any one wanted to buy it,
which is n't likely. It 's no use talking about
it, Roger; it only makes both of us feel sad.
Did you kill the broilers for the hotel ? "
she asked with a sudden change of tone.
No, not yet."
"Go and do it, then, right away. You '11
have to carry them down early with the eggs.
Four pairs, Roger. Chickens are the best crop
we can raise on this farm."
"If we could find Great-uncle Roger's mine,
we 'd eat the chickens ourselves," said Roger,
as he reluctantly turned to go.
Yes, and if that apple-tree 'd take to bear-
ing gold apples we would n't have to work at
all. Hurry and do your chores before dark,
Mrs. Gale was a Spartan in her methods, but,
for all that, she sighed a bitter sigh as Roger
went out of the door.
He 's such a smart boy," she told herself,
"there 's nothing he could n't do,--nothing, if
he had a chance. I do call it hard. The folks


who have plenty of money to do with have dull
boys; and I, who 've got a bright one, can't do
anything for him! It seems as if things were n't
justly arranged."
Hester spent all her spare time during the
next week in searching for the lost Bunny. It
rained hard one day and all the following
night; she could not sleep for fear that Bunny
was getting wet, and looked so pale in the
morning that her mother forbade her going to
the hill.
"Your feet were sopping when you came in
yesterday," she said; "and that 's the second
apron you 've torn. You '11 just have to let
Bunny go, Hester; no two ways about it."
Then Hester moped and grieved and grew
thin, and at last she fell ill. It was low fever,
the doctor said. Several days went by, and she
was no better. One noon, Roger came in from
haying to find his mother with her eyes looking
very much troubled. "Hester is light-headed,"
she said; "we must have the doctor again."
Roger went in to look at the child, who
was lying in a little bedroom off the kitchen.
The small, flushed face on the pillow did not
light up at his approach. On the contrary,
Hester's eyes, which were unnaturally big and
bright, looked past and beyond him.
Hessie, dear, don't you know Roger ?"
"He said he 'd find Bunny for me some
day," muttered the little voice; "but he never
did. Oh, I wish he would!-I wish he would!
I do want her so much." Then she rambled
on about foxes, and the old spruce-tree, and the
rocks; always with the refrain, I wish I had
Bunny; I want her so much!"
Mother, I do believe it 's that wretched old
doll she 's fretted herself sick over," said Roger,
going back into the kitchen. Now, I '11 tell
you what. Mr. Hinsdale 's going up to the
town this noon, and he '11 leave word for the
doctor to come; and the minute I 've swallowed
my dinner, I 'm going up to the hill to find
Bunny. I don't believe Hessie'll get any bet-
ter till she 's found."
"Very well," said Mrs. Gale. I suppose
the hay '11 be spoiled, but we 've got to get
Hessie cured at any price."
"Oh, I '11 find the doll. I know about
where Hessie was when she lost it. And the

hay 'll take no harm. I only got a quarter of
the field cut, and it 's good drying weather."
Roger made haste with his dinner. His con-
science pricked him as he remembered his neg-
lected promise and his indifference to Hester's
griefs; he felt in haste to make amends. He
went straight to the old spruce which, he had
gathered from Hester's rambling speech, was
the scene of Bunny's disappearance. It was
easily found, being the oldest and largest on
the hillside.
Roger had brought a stout stick with him,
and now, leaning over the cliff edge, he tried
to poke with it in the branches below, while
searching for the dolly. But the stick was not
long enough, and slipped through his fingers,
disappearing suddenly and completely through
the evergreens.
Hallo! cried Roger. "There must be a
hole there of some sort. Bunny 's at the bot-
tom of it, no doubt. Here goes to find her "
His longer legs made easy work of the steep
descent which had so puzzled his little sister.
Presently he stood, waist-deep, in tangled hem-
lock boughs, below the old spruce. He parted
the bushes in advance and moved cautiously
forward step by step. He felt a cavity just be-
fore him, but the thicket was so dense that he
could see nothing.
Feeling for his pocket-knife, which luckily
was a stout one, he stood still, cutting, slashing,
and breaking off the tough boughs, and throw-
ing them on one side. It was hard work, but
after ten minutes a space was cleared which let
in a ray of light, and, with a hot, red face and
surprised eyes, Roger Gale stooped over the
edge of a rocky cavity on the sides of which
something glittered and shone. He swung him-
self over the edge and dropped into the hole,
which was but a few feet deep. His foot struck
on something hard as he landed. He stooped
to pick it up, and his hand encountered a soft
substance. He lifted both objects out together.
The soft substance was a doll's woolen frock.
There, indeed, was the lost Bunny, looking no
whit the worse for her adventures, and the hard
thing on which her wooden head had lain was
a pick-ax-an old iron pick, red with rust.
Three letters were rudely cut on the handle
- R. P. G. They were Roger's own initials,


\\1 i I 7 I


Roger Perkins Gale. It had been his father's
name also, and that of the great-uncle after
whom they both were named.
With an excited cry, Roger stooped again
and lifted out of the hole a lump of quartz
mingled with ore. Suddenly he realized where
he was and what he had found. This was the
long lost silver-mine whose finding and whose
disappearing had for so many years been a
tradition in the township. Here it was that
old Roger Gale had found his "speciment,"
knocked off probably with that very pick, and,
covering up all traces of his discovery, had
gone sturdily off to his farm-work, to meet his
death next day on the hay-rigging, with the
secret locked within his breast. For sixty
years the evergreen thicket had grown and
toughened and guarded the hidden cavity be-
neath its roots; and it might easily have done
so for sixty years longer if Bunny, little wooden

Bunny, with her lack-luster eyes and expres-
sionless features, had not led the way into its
Hester got well. When Roger placed the doll
in her arms, she seemed to come to herself,
fondled and kissed her, and presently dropped
into a satisfied sleep, from which she awoke
conscious and relieved. The "mine" did not
prove exactly a mine,-it was not deep or wide
enough for that,-but the ore in it was rich in
quality, and the news of its finding made a
great stir in the neighborhood. Mrs. Gale was
offered a price for her hillside which made her
what she considered a rich woman, and she was
wise enough to close with the offer at once, and
neither stand out for higher terms nor risk the
chance of mining on her own account. She
and her family left the quiet little farm-house
soon after that, and went to live in Worcester.
Roger had all the schooling he desired, and
made ready for Harvard and the law-school,
where he worked hard, and laid the foundations
of what has since proved a brilliant career.
You may be sure that Bunny went to Worces-
ter also, treated and regarded as one of the
most valued members of the family. Hester
took great care of her, and so did Hester's little
girl later on; and even Mrs. Gale spoke respect-
fully of her always, and treated her with honor.
For was it not Bunny who broke the long spell
of evil fate, and brought good luck back to the
Gale family?



Prince Cam, who was beloved by all his people.
He was an orphan, only twelve years of age,
yet he ruled the valley and mountains as far as
the eye could reach, and owned a thousand
horses and five hundred elephants. Oranges,
figs, dates, apples, pears, and other fine fruits
grew in groves about his palace. He had
more servants than he could count in a day,
and seven rooms of the palace were filled with
gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, pearls, emeralds,
opals, topazes, and other beautiful gems, the
very largest in the world.
But Prince Cam's Grand Vizir, Boorum Boola,
had a bad heart, and envied the Prince.
Now the Grand Vizir's son, Suley, was just
the Prince's age, and so like him that, when
dressed alike, no one could tell them apart.
One day Suley said to his father, "Why
can I not be prince? I am as tall as Cam."
" We will see," said the Grand Vizir. He called
two black slaves, and told them to seize Prince
Cam when he slept, carry him to the forest,
and leave him there clothed in rags.
The slaves did so, and the Grand Vizir put
Suley in the Prince's bed. In the morning he

An iirX

made a great lamentation, declaring that Suley
had been carried off in the night. The people
were not sorry, for Suley was cruel and proud.
When Suley sat on the throne and the peo-
ple brought their petitions, they found a great
change. Prince Cam had always said "Yes,"
and smiled. Suley said "No," and frowned, and
there was great sorrow and fear; for all said:
"The good little Prince has gone mad."
For a long time Prince Cam wandered about
in the forest, becoming very hungry and tired.
He met many people and told who he was, but
they laughed and said:
"Little boy, you have been dreaming!
Princes never dress in rags."
His misfortunes made him sad, but his heart
was as kind as ever, and he was always gentle
to every living creature.
One evening, just as the sun was setting, the
poor young Prince came to a field of flowers.
He stooped to pluck a large white lily, but
as he grasped the stem, he saw a number of
tiny men and women dancing on the waxen
floor of the lily bell. They were clothed in
robes of rainbow and sunshine, and their king
sat on a throne of pure gold, and wore a dia-


mond dewdrop for a crown. A banquet
was spread in front of the throne, an,
dancers drank goblets of honey and dev
Prince Cam drew back, but the king sa
"Why do you not take the flower ? "
"I was unwilling to disturb you," sai
"What of that ?" asked the king; "v
too small to fight one so big and strong as
"All the more reason why I should not
you," said Prince Cam. I would be glad
you a service if I could; but I am poo
friendless now, though I was once ricl
Now, the fairies knew all about Prince
"Tell me your story," said the fairy
So Prince Cam told how he had been
in the night, carried to the woods, an
there clothed in rags.
If you will take advice from a little I
like me," said the fairy
king, go back to your
kingdom, and ask the
Grand Vizir to restore
you to your throne. If
he refuses, come and tell '4i
me. This road leads :"
straight to your palace .
Prince Cam walked
all night, and arrived'
before his palace gate
in the morning. When ..,
he entered the court,
Suley was sitting on the t,.'
throne, surrounded by a
band of wicked youths
whom he had chosen to
be his courtiers.
These made great
sport of the dusty little
"What is your petition?" they inq
"-that the king should make you a
lord ? "
No. I have come to ask him to gi
my kingdom back, for I am Prince Cam
the reply.
All the courtiers laughed so loudly th
palace shook.

What does the boy say ? asked the Grand
He says he is Prince Cam, and he wants
his kingdom," said the courtiers.
The Grand Vizir and Suley laughed too.
Come here, little boy," said the Vizir.
When Prince Cam approached him, the Vizir,
who knew him well, said:
"Do you not see the Prince sitting on his
throne ? "
I am Prince Cam, and he who sits on the
throne is your son Suley," said
the Prince.
Tell that story to the
tigers in the jungle,"
said the Vizir, with a
sneer. "If you can
persuade one of them,.
I will believe it! "
The Vizir laughed "\

uired; again, but Suley frowned, and said to the slaves
great who had carried Cam away, "Turn the little
beggar out; but first be sure that you warm
ve me his feet with a cane-fire so that he may walk
," was well."
So Prince Cam was turned out and beaten
at the on the feet with a cane, and he went back to
the fairy sadder than he had come. But the



fairy bade him be of good cheer. Let us go
and see what the tigers will say," said the fairy.
At this, one of the attendants led up a
cricket, richly harnessed. The king sprang
upon his back, and off went Prince Cam and
the fairy, the king leading the way.
They traveled into the
forest, and stopped at
last under a great tree
which had a hollow
trunk. Put your hand
in the hollow, and see
what you find," said the
king. ,
Prince Cam pulled out z i
an iron pot full of pitch
and bird-lime.
Sprinkle it all about
on the leaves," said the
king; and Prince Cam "
did so. .'
Then the king began
to growl like a tiger who
wanted to fight. Instant-
ly a great tiger came running :,) .ee ho hi:,i :
dared invade his dominions. A W -n I-,e Id...lici
Prince Cam, he roared and lashed his sides.
M-m-m, r-r-r-r-r! said the fairy king, sit-
ting on the cricket's back. The tiger thought
it was Prince Cam who challenged him.


M-m-m, r-r-r-r-r said the king, again.
The tiger lost all patience, and sprang at
Prince Cam. The leaves stuck to his paws.
More angry than
ever he jumped
in the i:ir and ,

tried to 'I ;""
c r c h ..'
them off; but they
stuck fast, and he "PRINCE CAM GALLOPED TO THE
gathered more of ALONG ESIDE HI ON
them all the time.
Oh, what a coward! said the fairy king.
"Why don't you come on? "
That made the tiger furious. He rolled on
the ground and gathered more leaves till he
was nothing but a big, round ball. At length
his eyes were covered, he could not see, and
lay still.
Promise me on your honor that you will
obey all my instructions, and I will release
you," said the king.
When the tiger had given the necessary
pledge, Prince Cam brought some water, and
soon made him as sleek and clean as ever.
"You must acknowledge this youth as
Prince," said the little king. Now take him
on your back."
Prince Cam mourited the tiger's back, and
galloped swiftly to the palace, the king hop-
ping along beside him on the cricket.
As they went down the road, the people all




ran after them, as if they had never seen a
beggar-boy on a tiger before.
Prince Cam rode into the court and dis-
mounted before the throne of the wicked Suley.
I come to hold you to your promise," he
said to the Grand Vizir.

tJC~ 7,,, C) )U


Then turning to the tiger, Prince Cam said:
"Do you acknowledge me as the lawful ruler? "
The tiger bowed three times and touched his
forehead to the ground.
"That is a trick," said Boorum Boola; "I
can do that "; and he approached the tiger.

Do you acknowledge me as the lawful
ruler ?" he asked.
The tiger rose on his hind legs and opened
his mouth to swallow the Grand Vizir. But
the Vizir jumped through the window and ran
away in a great fright.
Suley trembled, but putting on a bold face,
he asked the same question.
il 'The tiger gave a terrible roar,
and opened his mouth
wider than ever.
Suley jumped
- through the
I window,


I, i iand ran after
his father. He
Swas just in time, for
the tiger's teeth closed
with a snap that could be
heard far and wide; as it was, he
tore off Suley's fine sash.
Then the people set up a great shout.
" Good Prince Cam has come again!" they
said. So they seized the wicked and lazy
young courtiers, gave them a good beating,
and packed them off to find the old Vizir and
Suley, and ran to release Prince Cam's faithful
servants and advisers.
Then they dressed the good Prince in the
finest robes, and set him on his throne.


'i '~


Reign forever! they said; "for you are
And peace and plenty came again to the
kingdom of good Prince Cam.
So far, so good!" said the fairy king.
"Now you want a wife. Would you not like
to wed my daughter ? "
"Is she not too small ? asked the Prince.
"You shall see," answered the king. He
stamped his foot thrice, and the princess ap-
Never had Prince Cam seen any one so
beautiful. Her dress was of the finest rose-
leaves looped up with dewdrops, her long hair
shone like pure gold, and a crown of violets
was on her head. But she was smaller than
her father.
Prince Cam fell in love with her immediately,
and began to weep. "Alas, that nature has
made us so unlike!" he said. "Without you I
can never be happy."

The king laughed and stamped his foot. In-
stantly he grew to be a tall man, and the prin-
cess herself was almost as large as Prince Cam,
and more beautiful than ever.
"Fairies can be any size they like," the king
said. I appeared small and weak that I might
discover whether your heart was really good."
The fairy princess had long loved Prince
Cam in secret, and blushed with pleasure when
she learned why she had been summoned. The
wedding was celebrated with great magnificence,
all the people rejoiced, and the fairies came and
danced in honor of the good Prince.
Boorum Boola and his sbn and all their
worthless followers were never heard of again.
As to the tiger, he was made Grand Vizir, and
performed the duties of that post with great
credit and dignity.
And Prince Cam and his beautiful bride
lived many years, and never knew sickness or



could no
Than keep
from her
Once cast
about that
she might
An occupation to her

An ant with active hands and feet
Can, as a rule, make both ends meet.
Unhappily, this was not quite
The case with her of whom I write.

"Since I am gifted," she'd explain,
I ought to exercise my brain.
The only thing for me, it's clear,
Is a professional career!"


But no profession could she find,
Until one day there crossed her mind
The proverb bidding sluggards gaze
Upon the ant to learn her ways.

"The very thing!" she cried. "Hurray!
I '11 advertise without delay.
Things are come to a pretty pass,
If I can't teach a sluggard class!"


She set to work without delay,
And wrote some cards that very day;
And hung them in the grass-a plan
To catch the sluggard's eye. They ran
As follows:

She placed at every turn that led
To her abode, a sign which read,
" Go to the Ant," and hung beside
Her picture, highly magnified.

Said she, "At least that cannot fail
To bring a Turtle, Sloth, or Snail,

-z l --^- w

A Dormouse, or a Boy, to learn
Their livelihood (and mine) to earn!

"I '11 teach them, first of all, to see
The joyousness of industry;
And they, to grasp my meaning more,
Shall gather in my winter store;

1, .
V ,' i\

SLUGGARDS who desire
An education to acquire
Will find it well to call to-day
Upon Professor Ant, B. A.
HER Sluggard Class, she begs to state,
Reopens at an early date
With several vacancies-a chance
Terms-In Advance.



"I '11 teach them it is wise to lay
Up riches for a rainy day
(And while they put away the pelf,
I '11 play the 'rainy day' myself).
" The Beauty of Abstemiousness
I '11 next endeavor to impress
Upon their minds at meals (N. B.
That is-if they should board with me).
"Then Architecture they shall try
(My present house is far from dry),-
In short, all Honest Toil I '11 teach
(And they shall practise what I

P.2 Ii>"'L

,~ I,

-- -.-8


Alas, for castles in the air!-
There's no delusion anywhere
Quite so delusive as, I fear,
Is a professional career.

',, ^* ,*,*._.. :,.. :

1 n

So thought the ant last time we met.
She only has one sluggard yet,
Who scantly fills her larder shelf-
It is, I grieve to say, herself!



4 '. -,


DUDLEY HILL, Massachusetts, is just the place
for kite-flying; and it was here, August 31, 1891,
that The Uncle Sam was planned and built.
It was the result of much studying and calcu-
lation by a certain Uncle Sam and his nephew,
and its great size, together with its beauty, makes
it deserving of more than local reputation.

Uncle Sam, in whose honor it was named, is
an experienced kite-flier, and has made kites
for two generations of nephews. Some forty
years ago, he with his two brothers successfully
flew, at Portland, Maine, a kite seventeen feet
high; and it has been his, and his Dudley
nephew's, ambition to surpass all previous


records of all kites; and after two jolly weeks
of planning and building, their cherished hopes
were realized.
The frame shown in the picture was made of
six ash sticks, split back about -four feet from
the center and bolted to a hub six inches thick,
and eight inches in diameter. The sticks were
about two and a half by two inches, tapering
to one inch by three quarters. The whole
frame weighed thirty-four pounds, was twenty-
two feet high, sixteen feet wide and about sev-
enty feet in circumference. With its wire and
coarse twine to keep the cover from bagging

The cover was made of unbleached cotton
cloth, strengthened in the six corners with can-
vas; and it took forty yards of material. A
quarter-inch manila rope was bound into the
edge, and the corners were provided with small
snaps which fastened into rings on the ends
of the sticks, as shown in the diagram on
page 467.
The cover alone, when completed, weighed
thirteen pounds.
Coarse burlap from cotton bales made the
tail, which was one hundred feet long and
weighed eleven pounds. The burlap was cut

\T!O *R
Y, 70 J

l~ z.1~

and to strengthen it, it looked like an immense in strips twelve inches wide, sewn together end
spider-web. When not in use it was strapped to end, then knotted with streamers four feet
under the eaves of a large barn, as no barn door apart.
was big enough to admit the huge frame. The third picture shows the swiveled reel,
VOL. XX.-30.






strongly built, and so
mounted as to turn
in any direction ac-
cording to the wind.
The flying-rigging
was constructed upon
certain plans of Uncle
Sam's, and was similar
to those described in
previous numbers of
the exception that the
upper part of the kite
was strengthened by
two additional staying-
cords. These cords were
hooked into rings on
the frame half-way from
the top to the hub;
then the flying-cords
of proper length were
fixed, like the cover,
with snaps and rings,
and were snapped to-
gether in a common
iron ring about one and

". ..'- 1 ,"

; \ -'



. .. .... ... .. ;._ ..-.

S-. .



- arM




one half inches in diameter, to which the flying-
cord was attached. The flying-cord and fly-
ing-rigging were of one-quarter inch manila
rope, stout enough to bear a strain of five hun-
dred pounds.
On Monday morning, August 31, we found a
strong, steady wind blowing, and, amid much
excitement, the cover was laid face downward
in one of the largest of Dudley pastures, the
frame put upon it and snapped into place. The
excitement increased as the six men who han-
dled it took their places to launch the great air-
ship; for had there not been plenty of scoffers,
who doubted the ability of the wind to raise a
fifty-eight pound kite ?
"The Uncle Sam" was lifted from its face by
two men at the top walking down by its edge
and seizing the two lower corners; a third man
about fifteen feet from the face of the kite held
the flying-line. Three other men were at the reel.
When the word was given, The Uncle Sam"'

rose steadily of its own accord, and after hover-
ing on the wind for a few seconds, as if in
doubt, finally took the line as it was paid out
and rose to a height of one thousand feet, fol-
lowed by cheers from the enthusiastic specta-
tors, old and young.
It remained in the air for about two hours.
The fourth illustration gives some idea of its
pulling power, as the four men were just able
to hold it. A large pair of ice-scales were at-
tached to the line, and it was estimated that the
pulling capacity varied from one hundred and
seventy-five to two hundred and fifty pounds.
Another reason for the carrying out of Uncle
Sam's ideas for a huge kite was given by an
account in the "Boston Journal" of a mon-
ster kite, eleven feet high, that had been raised
at Salem, Massachusetts. Dudley Hill never
had witches, but it has a kite not surpassed as
yet by Salem. We all knew our Uncle Sams
could beat the world -and they did.




OUR hired man is the kindest man
That ever I did see;
He 's always glad to stop his work
And come and talk to me.

John Kendrick Bangs.




WE had left McCormick Bay, Lieutenant
Peary's winter-quarters, intending to explore
the Humboldt Glacier, which is the largest
"ice-river" in Greenland. In our voyage we
had passed Point Foulke, Refuge Harbor, Life-
boat Cove, and various localities reminding us
of arctic explorers of Kane, Hayes, Hall,
Budington, and others, whom we were eager to
But we were to be disappointed. For, when
we arrived in Kane Basin, at the northern ex-
tremity of Smith's Sound, we found an impas-
sable barrier a solid, compact sea of ice, ex-
tending entirely across to the American side,
with the exception of a narrow passage, or
"lead," northward. Our brave captain would
not enter this passage, and his severe experi-
ence when in command of the "Proteus," the
vessel sent to the relief of Greely, justified his
refusal. On that occasion, having unwillingly
entered such a lead in obedience to orders, he
had not journeyed many miles along that seem-
ingly open route, when the ice-mass closed in,
and crushed the vessel.
We had arrived there near midnight-though,
of course, it was broad daylight, darkness having
here only a short reign of barely four months.
Most of the members of our party were on
deck, lost in admiration of our surroundings--
the vast, rough, undulating sheet of ice, decked
with fantastic mounds and hillocks that pre-
sented a weird and picturesque appearance.
The surroundings were full of historical interest
and arctic reminiscences. From the American
coast, that glistened white, bare, and bleak in
the sunlight, Cape Sabine projected conspicu-
ously, and recalled to us the tragic sequel to
Greely's expedition. It was here that seven-
teen of that noble band were found dead of
starvation, and the rest in the last stages of ex-
haustion, after enduring hardships and suffer-
ing that cannot be fully told. To the eastward,

on the shore of Greenland, was Rensselaer
Harbor, Dr. Kane's winter-quarters from 1853
to 1855-
While reflecting on these tragic annals of
arctic navigation, we were roused by a sound as
of a dog barking. It seemed to proceed from
a point directly opposite us. There were vari-
ous and contradictory conjectures as to what
it might be. One officer suggested that it was
the cry of a wolf, another that it sounded like
that of a fox; but the majority insisted that it
resembled the yelping of a dog in distress, and
suggested that the animal might be one of
Lieutenant Peary's Eskimo dogs.
Our commander gave orders to steam closer
inshore, to find out what caused the noise. We
had proceeded only a short distance, when
similar sounds greeted us from all sides, and
then the source of the cries was discovered.
On the numerous ice-floes, only a few hundred
yards distant, many black bodies were seen.
They were walrus, dozing or basking in the
sun, while many others were disporting in the
The men ran below for their guns, but shoot-
ing this big game was vain and profitless work;
for even if we succeeded in killing a walrus, he
would sink. So the ice-anchor was thrown out
and made fast to the ice-pack, and then the
long-boat was lowered in order to approach
closer, so as not only to kill, but also to secure
the game.
The usual method of hunting walrus is simi-
lar to that adopted to capture the whale- the
use of harpoon-line and spear. The Eskimos in
their "kayaks," or sealskin canoes, which they
handle with remarkable skill, cautiously approach
an ice-floe where walrus lie; and, when close
enough, dexterously throw the spear, or shaft,
with harpoon-point attached. The point pierces
the animal, and, in fright, he dives below the
surface, but is prevented from remaining there


by the float or bladder attached by a line to
the harpoon-point. This float is quickly thrown
into the water as soon as the animal is speared,
for otherwise the boat would either be capsized,
or carried along at a very rapid pace, and then
would be cer-
tain to strike ~7
against one
of the many
ice-floes and
be dashed to
pieces. The
walrus dives
but soon be-
comes ex-
hausted; and
as soon as he
comes to the
surface, with r- .: "
strength well "
nighspent,he *.S-i ):'.
is killed by a
The natives
of North
Greenland are in the habit of placing the har-
poon-line around the neck, and occasionally
this line becomes caught and cannot be thrown
off in time, and then the Eskimo may be
dragged under and drowned. Strangely enough,
though they live on the coast, they do not learn
to swim.
Early in the season the ice-pack is unbroken,
except for small openings made by the walrus;
and these often freeze over. When the walrus
is found on a large ice-raft, or away from the
water's edge, he can be easily overcome, as
his immense weight makes him awkward and
slow when out of the water.
With this short explanation of the habits of
this arctic animal, the reader will understand
our adventure.
Having lowered the boat, five members of
our party, with the Eskimo named Daniel,"
our phlegmatic interpreter, as harpooner, rowed
for the ice-pack, on which we had sighted the
barking herd. We intended to surprise them,
but in our haste and enthusiasm made some
noise when scarce within range. The walrus

raised their massive heads, gazed at us inquir-
ingly, and then, noticing that something was
amiss, began to dive from the floe. Three rifles
rang out, and then all the walrus tumbled off
the ice; but some were wounded.


A few energetic strokes of the oars brought
us near the powerful swimmers. One big fel-
low, with his eyes gleaming ferociously, made
for our boat as we approached. He came right
under the bow, where stood Daniel, with the
keen harpoon poised ready for the stroke. It
seemed an excellent opportunity we almost
held our breath in our anxiety and eagerness to
capture our first walrus. Daniel hesitated, and
the opportunity was lost. The walrus escaped;
and in our angry disappointment we heaped
undeserved blame on our innocent Eskimo,
who stood abashed and confused, understand-
ing our gestures if not our words. Afterward
we learned that he was not in fault, as the ani-
mal was too near for an effective thrust. Skilled
hunters never throw the spear perpendicularly,
but always obliquely.
Again we moved onward, having seen three
more walrus near by; but we had rowed only a
short distance when some one shouted, "There
he is, right astern! We backed water. As
soon as we were near enough, Daniel let fly
the harpoon. This time he was successful.




SThe walrus was made fast to the stern, and our boat. One huge
then we rowed for the ship, delighted with our ranks dived, and it ap
success. Our exultation was brief, for, as we come just .below the
were towing this immense burden, weighing, as alongside, and reared

.- ...-.. .., .
": .t,- ,-
.--, ...-

S :. '"


we found afterward, nearly 1400 pounds, one
of the party shouted excitedly, Look ahead,
boys! We are in for it!"
Advancing upon us in stern battle-array with
regular, unbroken column, came a herd of be-
tween thirty and forty walrus. It was a grand
sight. On they came with swift and vigorous
strokes, their great, dark-brown forms in strong
contrast with the ice-covered sea, their huge,
hard-visaged heads erect, their long, sharp
ivory tusks glistening ferociously in the sun-
light. Their bloodshot eyes were fixed upon
us with vengeful intent.
We, however, were as eager as they for the
fray. Aglow with excitement and exhilaration,
we met tfeir fierce onslaught with a volley from
our rifles that even those determined beasts
could not withstand. But they withdrew only
for a moment; then, bellowing loudly with rage,
they made a second desperate effort to reach


monster who led the
)peared as if he would
stern. Up he came,
his ungainly head in
order to hook his tusks
over the gunwale of
the boat. That we had
to prevent; for had he
succeeded in getting
them over the side, his
immense weight, even
unaided by any effort
on his part, would
have capsized our boat
as if it were but a rac-
ing-shell. Our artist
fired into the tough
hide only a few feet
away. I grasped the
nearest weapon,- an
ice-ax,-but the blow
from it made no more
impression than if it
had been a light wand,
except that it enraged
him still more.
Again he raised his
tusks, and renewed
his attempt; but then
our brave commander

planted a good-sized rifle-ball in the nape of
the neck-a vital point. We had had a narrow
escape; for, once upset, even had we avoided
the jaws of those angry brutes, swimming in
that icy water to one of the distant icebergs
would have been extremely perilous. In the
mean time the herd of walrus, bewildered and
frightened, many having been killed or wounded,
turned and retreated in hasty disorder.
Then, towing our two walrus, a weight of
over three thousand pounds, we rowed for our
ship, the Kite."
It was very slow and arduous work. But
we felt secure, thinking we were done with our
impetuous arctic enemies. They were of a dif-
ferent mind; certainly they were not done with
us. For as we pulled, with aching arms and
weary backs, a loud shout from one of the
men warned us that our fancied security was to
be disturbed. Right ahead appeared a pack


of some fifty walrus; and scarce had we time
to collect ourselves and prepare for battle,
when another group was seen off the starboard
bow-then still another off the port bow! We
were completely surrounded, and in the dis-
tance many more dark bodies were made out,
evidently swimming toward us.
The sea was alive with them. The wounded
had retreated only to summon aid--to collect
their scattered forces. More enraged than ever,
they had returned to wreak dire vengeance
on the presumptuous foreign intruders. This
time it seemed as if our hunt was to have a
disastrous ending.
Undaunted by our fire, on they came, some
to within fifteen or twenty feet. We tried to
make every shot tell. Some grasped the oars
to row for the ship, and one brandished the
heavy ship's-ax, to prevent them from thrust-
ing their tusks over the side of the boat. Now
the fight had reached the height of excitement.
Herds of maddened walrus were on all sides,
and the sharp, rapid reports of the rifles were

try to reach a low iceberg; but now that our
passage was blocked on all sides, the only
choice left us was to fight it out then and
At last, beaten and dismayed, our pursuers
yielded, turned, and fled.
We rejoiced to see the Kite steaming up to
meet us, as now we were encountering the
fresh ice that was already forming. It made
rowing, with that enormous weight attached,
exceedingly difficult. When we came to the
ice-floe alongside the steamer, we found we
had another herculean task before us to haul
these bulky bodies up on the cake of ice.
Finally, with the assistance of the crew, we
"landed" the great bodies successfully, took
some snap-shot photographs, and then pro-
ceeded to skin them -which was not an easy
or agreeable conclusion to our arduous but
fascinating walrus-hunt.
As the walrus lay upon the ice, their immense
bulk and massive forms could be better appre-
ciated. Lieutenant Schwatka described the


followed by the peculiar, discordant howling walrus as huge seals, with upper canine-teeth
and bellowing of the infuriated beasts. We prolonged into tusks." These tusks are usually
still clung to our unwieldy spoils, which made from one to two feet in length, and I have
it impossible to attain any headway. At first seen some that were two and a half and even
we hurriedly debated whether we should not three feet long. When full-grown, the tusk


weighs about five pounds. Their length does
not seem to be dependent upon either the age
or size of the animal, as often a young, small
walrus will have long tusks. The average
weight of the animal is about a ton, and ours
weighed between 1200 and 15oo pounds. One
was ten, the other thirteen feet long. They
attain, however, a length of from fifteen to eigh-
teen feet, and half as much around the fore flip-
pers. The flippers are some two feet long, and
capable, when extended, of covering a consid-
erable area, and of forcing the animal rapidly
through the water. Walrus also use these flip-
pers to protect wounded comrades or carry
their offspring. The inside of these paws is
covered by a horny skin that serves to protect
their palms in scrambling around over the

rough ice. The walrus-flippers, when properly
cooked, are considered a great delicacy by the
Eskimos. The flavor of the flipper is very simi-
lar to that of the coarser clams. The meat did
not seem as delicate as that of the seal or nar-
whal. The flesh of the walrus is protected by
a thick blanket of fat the blubber, which en-
ables it to resist the icy water of the Arctic seas.
This fat yields nearly a barrel of oil. The hide
and tusks also are valuable. The hide is used
by the Eskimos to make soles for their boots,
or kamiks, and it is also cut into strips for their
harpoon-lines. It is from one to one and a half
inches thick.
The formidable tusks are used as weapons
of offense and defense, and also, it is stated, to
gather their food, the clams.

s I iL N n

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011. (r:n-ger Qvincnd 'whips out b)e-hind, andl lets no-bo&-y ride; lBut

,i) .y-t" Ts- >- -- .*1^ -. <" ^ "
L-, V" ^- h J -



rrri~ ~A

Far-rmer Mellow is a jolly good fel-low;which can-not be ae-nied! Hang
I ,v ,d;o J0 ," .;, o -.,

on, or hitch; lhe don't care which, for his sleigh is lboa. anc wde Ae;

Tar-mer Mellow is a jol-ly good fel-low;which can-not be de- nied!



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1 N O\wv



~~9 w


ALL hail to you in the bright springtime, my
smilers and weepers No more skating or snow-
balling or coasting at present, in this part of the
world, but any amount of good fun. Nature is
wide awake now, and she expects you to take
particular notice of things around you in these out-
of-door days. Soon you will know too much to go
in when it rains, and perhaps your school-books
will grow rather heavy. But what of that? Sling
them over to the other shoulder, and march on, still
keeping your eyes open and your heart full of sun-
shine. Even school walls, viewed from within, are
sweet as May hedgerows when one -
Ahem! Now and then your Jack is puzzled what
to say next. But here come some friends to the
rescue,-bright little fellows sent to this pulpit
by Miss Carrie Barber Chandler. Let us see what
they have to say:
I AM a little crocus, don't you see!
And all these fellows that come with me,
Why, they are crocuses too, I say.
We come to tell you that sometime,-to-day
Or to-morrow, we can't say just when,-
My Lady Spring will be with you again.
We are brave little messengers; that I know.
What other fellows would dare to show
Their faces in such a wintry air?
They 're afraid of the cold, but we don't care;
For we wish to be first to bear to you
A message which may or may not be true.
But we 're prudent; we wear our coats of-fur,
For, to tell the truth, though we 're fond of her,
We can't always trust My Lady's word.
Just the other day I heard a bluebird
Declare that he 'd sung, "The Spring is here!"
A thousand times, before she 'd appear.

My Lady whispered to us in our sleep,
And waked us out of our slumber deep.
How we did hurry! We thought, "We 're late,
And our message will be quite out of date!"
So we dressed in haste, and here are we;
But what of My Lady,-where is she?
P. S.-
Some of the fellows are awfully cold,
And say that they think they are "rather sold."
See that small crocus, he 's almost. dead,
And he 's drawn his fur coat over his head!
YOUR friend, the Rev. J. A. Davis, has sent some
pleasant bits of observation to this pulpit, which I
shall be glad to throw out to you now and then,
very much as you throw crumbs to the sparrows.
Here are the first of them:
A PARSONAGE cat whose favorite seat is on the
study table has found a new use for himself. He
watches his master's pen, and occasionally, when
the writer is tired, takes the holder in his mouth.
But his real usefulness, is to act as a paper-weight.
When a sheet is finished and laid aside, the cat
walks gravely to it and takes his seat on the paper.
As soon as another is laid aside, he leaves the first
and sits down on the second. Sometimes, to try him,
his master lays down, on different parts of the table,
sheets in rapid succession. But "Powhatan"-the
cat-remains seated, shrewdly supposing that to
be fun, not business. When work begins anew,
the cat seats himself on the last paper laid down,
and waits for another. Thus he shows that he
watches his master's work, and perhaps thinks it
his duty to keep the paper from blowing away.
I CALL that a clever cat, and one well worth
Next we have an account of a hen who not only
knows her own mind, but, as the dear Little School-
ma'am would say, evidently has the courage of her
convictions. Her motto appears to be:
DEAR FRIEND JACK: Last summer, at Dunel-
len, N. J., a white hen hatched a brood of chicks,
some as white as herself, and others as black as
young crows. When placed in a coop with her
brood, she hovered carefully over the dark ones,
but pecked the white chicks and drove them
away. Nor would she allow them near the coop.
The little outcasts might have perished had not
another and more motherly hen adopted them
as her own. This the white hen seemed to
resent; for she adopted the dark chicks of the
brood into which her own white ones had gone.
Not content with that, sh e coaxed, one after an-
other, nearly every dark-feathered little one in
that yard to her own shelter, and cared for all with
patient tenderness. Soon she had her coop so
full of dark chicks that many were forced to sleep
outside her sheltering wings. Until she left her
brood, that hen showed a mother's care for all
dark chickens, and the hatred of a foe to those of
white feathers. Yours truly, J. A. D.




A LITTLE buoy said, "Mother, deer,
May I go out too play?
The son is bright, the heir is clear,
Owe, mother, don't say neigh "

"Go fourth, my sun," the mother said.
The ant said, "Take ewer slay,
Your gneiss knew sled, awl painted read,
Butt dew knot lose your weigh."

"Ah, know," he cried, and sought the street
With hart sew full of glee--
The whether changed-and snow and sleet,
And reign, fell steadily.

Threw snowdrifts grate, threw watery pool,
He flue with mite and mane--
Said he, "Though I wood walk by rule,
I am not rite, 't is plane.

e- _N

_ -a-'

l i

A- -"fus/ r%2
rist 7c




"I 'd like to meat sum kindly sole,
For hear gnu dangers weight,
And yonder stairs a treacherous whole-
Two sloe has been my gate.

"A peace of bred, a nice hot stake,
I 'd chews if I were home,
This crewel fate my hart will brake,
Eye love knot thus to roam.

"I 'm week and pail, I 've mist my rode,"
But here a carte came past,
He and his sled were safely toad
Back two his home at last.
SUCH is the funny and, at the same time, pa-
thetic story cleverly told in wrong spelling by Mrs.
E. T. Corbett. And the dear Little Schoolma'am
hopes each and all of you, my beloved, who can
read and write, will copy out the verses neatly, and
with the proper spelling. This done, perhaps
you may enjoy
showing the ori-
ginal, and your
,correct version,
N" to your own
S Little School-
.1. ma'ams and
SMary McNeil
Scott, requests
me to tell you
of a very curious
tree, a picture
of whichshe has
drawn for you
from life. This
tree, it seems,
never forgets to
show its own
special peculiarity. It stands in the grounds of
the famous Buddhist temples of Shiba, Tokio,
Japan, the lady says, and is, she believes, the
only one ever seen in the Sunrise Kingdom.
The priests relate that many "years ago a
pilgrim brought a small cutting from India,and
when, three months later, it was planted in
Japanese ground sacred to the great Buddha,
it at once began its slow but steady growth.
SIt is now from twenty to twenty-five feet high -
not a very tall tree, but surely a very remark-
able one, as you will see by examining the pic-
ture; for every branch, eiery twig, is joined
to another.
The bark is gray and smooth, and the leaves,
are shaped like those of the water-maple.
The Japanese call it "Ai-no-ki," or tree of
love, from its affectionatehabitof joining hands.
It is of the genus Ficus, and is related to the
banian-tree, the fig, which grows in all of the
Southern States, the india-rubber tree, and the

-- "'







DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In all your letters I have never
seen one from a State's Prison. You must not think me
an inmate of the prison. Papa is Warden. We have a
beautiful home on a hill overlooking the lovely bay of
San Francisco. The front of our house is terraced down
almost to the water's edge. Even in winter the terraces
are covered with lovely flowers.
We have a fine view of Mt. Tamalpais and Mt. Diablo.
We go to San Francisco very often. It takes only an
hour. There are about 1250 prisoners here now.
I am enjoying Mrs. Wiggin's California story very
much. From your loving reader,
S. F. H-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for some
time. I wrote the little poem which I send about my
dolly expressly for your Letter-box. I hope you will like
it well enough to print it, for I did it all myself.
Yours very truly, VERA WARNER V- .


I HAD a little dolly,
Her eyes were brown and true;
Her name was Lady Molly,
And she was from Peru.

But, alas, my poor little dolly!
I left her out in the snow,
And there my dear Lady Molly
Lost all her color; so

I had to send for the surgeon,
Who gave her a tonic of paint,
And, though she looks like an Injun,
She still is my dear little saint.
V. W. V.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This morning was clear and
bright, and the water was smooth, so we made up our
minds to go to Capri. I did not know we were going
till about half an hour before we started. Right after
breakfast, Papa said that he was going out walking.
When he came back he told us that he had tickets
for Capri, and had brought a guide with him called Pietro.
That was the first I heard about going. It was then
about half-past eight, and the boat for Capri left at nine.
So we got our overcoats, and I got Phcenix (he is a
sailor Brownie) and started down-stairs. We met Pietro
in the hall, and he relieved us of our overcoats. The
steamer dock was about five minutes' walk from the hotel.
When we got to the dock, we found we would have
to go out to the steamer in a small boat, so we all climbed
into one. There was only one rower in the boat, but he
made it go very fast. It took about five minutes to get
out to the steamer. We had to climb up the steamer's
side from our little boat, which I thought was a great deal
of fun. When we got on board, we saw something funny.
There were two boys in the water with trunks on, and
they were always calling out, Money, Monsieur,
money And when people threw coppers to them,
they would dive and catch them before they touched

bottom. In about an hour after starting, we passed
Vesuvius. In three hours after we had left Naples, we
stopped in front of the blue grotto at Capri. Here little
boats came out to meet us, and Papa, Pietro, and myself
got into the first boat, and Mama and Aunt Emily got into
the next. The entrance to the grotto looks pitch black, as
if you were going to the center of the earth. The opening
is about three feet high, and you have to lie flat in the bot-
tom of the boat to get in. We waited till a good chance
to rush in, and got in between two waves. Inside, the
water was a brilliant blue, and the roof a very rich dark
blue. After we had gone to the extreme end of the
grotto, the water looked prettier than ever. There were
twelve boats in the grotto, so it was very crowded. Our
boatman then took us to the other side of the grotto, and
stirred up the water with his oar, which made it look
brighter than ever. We stayed in the grotto fifteen min-
utes, and then it was time to go to the steamer. We had
a little trouble getting out, but nothing of any account
happened. When we got out, Papa took a photograph of
Mama and Aunt Emily in their boat. After all the peo-
ple from the grotto got onboard, the steamer started for
the town of Capri. Here we got off and had a ride. On
the way back, we stopped at a wayside inn for lunch.
After that we took the steamer back to Naples.
Yours sincerely,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years
old. I live in the most beautiful part of the city, in the
region of the lakes. I have always lived here, and my
mama before me. My grandpa bought this land from
the government, and it is now in the heart of the city.
My grandpa and grandma were the first white couple
married at St. Anthony Falls, which is now Minneapo-
lis, and my mama was the third white child born at the
Falls. My grandpa built the first frame house out of
the first lumber sawed by the first mill built at the Falls,
and in this house my mama was born. Grandpa also
opened the first store; so, you see, I am from a truly
pioneer family. Your little subscriber,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am sure the children who
read the ST. NICHOLAS would like to know about our
visit to Bejapoor (Papa, Aunty Mary, my sister Nella,
and myself). We spent two days there. It used to be
an old Mohammedan city, and they must have spent mil-
lions of rupees over it-one dollar is equal to three ru-
pees. The first evening we went to the citadel. It
contains many buildings that used to belong to the
Emperor. It has a moat all around it. The prettiest
building in the citadel is the English church-formerly
a tomb. In the middle there is a small dome, beautifully
colored in different colors. There is a very high watch-
tower. We went up 188 steps, and there were some
more, but so broken down we could not go up. Then
we went to the Ali Rauzza. If it had been finished it
would have covered more space than any other building
in Bejapoor. It has from forty to fifty arches. Before it
could be finished it was conquered by the Mahrattas.
Then we went to the Asar Mahal. It is one of the
plainest buildings, but the most sacred. In one of the


rooms are supposed to be two hairs of Mohammed's beard.
They are kept in a box, and the box in a room. The
room is opened but once a year, and the box is never to
be opened. Some years ago burglars got into the room
and disarranged the contents, but the people hope that
the burglars were too holy to steal the relics.
From here we went to the Makka Musjid-a mosque
for women. It is a plain but pretty building. The
carvings are all of stone.
The next morning we went to Ibrahim Rauzza. This
is the prettiest building in Bejapoor. The mosque and
tomb are facing each other. Nearly every tomb has
connected with it a mosque. The mosque in all cases is
smaller than the tomb. Each emperor built himself a
tomb that he could be buried in, and each one wished
his tomb finer than the one before him; so whoever
built Ibrahim Rauzza must have thought it would be
difficult for his son to surpass it. His son, when he be-
came emperor, knew he could not surpass his father's
work in quality, so he tried in quantity. He built the
Gol Gumbaz, the largest dome in the world. In it is
the finest whispering gallery. The slightest whisper can
be heard from side to side, which is 128 feet, and a loud
clap can be heard over ten times distinctly. Some of
the cornices around the top were broken off by light-
ning, so the natives have hung a piece of a meteor from
one of the cornices so the lightning will not strike it.
This dome can be seen from a distance of forty miles.
During our visit there we saw the longest and heavi-
est cannon, and the largest cast-iron cannon in the world,
I think. The longest cannon is called the Haidar
Burj." The heaviest is called the Landa Kasab," and
the largest cast-iron cannon, Maliki Maidan," or King
of the Plain." The muzzle of this gun in diameter is four
and one half feet. Your interested reader,

ON page 329 of the March ST. NICHOLAS, the list of
articles shown as memorials of Franklin includes the
"Composing stone." It should read, "Imposing stone"
a stone or iron slab upon which pages, when set up in
type or cast into plates, are so arranged that they will
appear in regular order after the printed sheet is folded.

DEAR OLD ST. NICK: Malvern is a very pretty place.
I have a donkey every day, when it is not too cold. His
name is "Jumbo." I am going to tell you about a little
adventure we once had. We (Mama, Papa, and Miss
Mason, my governess, and I) were going to a wayside
station called Glandovey. We had missed our train
from the place we were leaving, and we could not go
on till 7 P. M., and we did not reach Glandovey till
about nine (happily it was summer), and then we could
not find the house, which was a farm, perched upon a
hill, without a great deal of bother. But in searching
for it we found several glow-worms. They were so
When at last we found the house, all the people
were in bed, and we had considerable trouble to get
them up, but at last we did, and got comfortably settled
for the night; so there was the end of that, in dreamland.
Good-by. From your loving little reader,

DEAR ST. NICK: I am a girl fourteen years old. We
live in a small Vermont village in a small house which
stands in the shade of a very large elm-tree that is
twelve feet in circumference. We have three horses,
one of which I call mine; his name is "Jerry." He is
five years old. One of the other horses is a western
pony; we callhim "Pedro." They have all been running
in the lot to-day. I have a kitten; she is gray and
white. I go to school, take music-lessons, and study
elocution. You were a Christmas present to me from
one of my sisters this year, but we have had you before.
A cousin took you, and when he had read you he sent
you to us, but now I have you to myself.
I remain your reader, FANNY L-.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been very much
interested in Miss Wilkins's pastels in the Harper's and
the Century, so I thought I would write one for the Let-
ter-box. Your interested reader,
(Twelve years old.)

(A Pastel in Prose.)
They play ball.
The pitcher from his box throws the ball, the catcher
catches it and the umpire calls One strike."
They play ball.
The catcher returns the ball. Again the pitcher throws
it, the man swings his bat, and hits it away off down the
field. He runs and reaches first. The crowd cheer.
He does not hear them, but only sees a young girl smiling
on him.
They play ball.
The pitcher pitches the ball. The man now at the bat
hits it, and reaches third, while the man who is running
makes arun. He has won the game. The crowd cheer,
but he only sees the young girl smiling on him.
They play ball. E. T. W-

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Fred H. M.,
Jenny C., Bessie and Annie B., Gordon B., Richard H.
P., H. Fen S., Edith T., Agnes C., Disney C. W., Cecil
R. L., Zada S., Dottie L., Etta L., Effingham C. M. A.,
Mabel W., Will P. B., R. H. Edgar, Jeff B. W., Ger-
trude W., Alex. McD. C., Genevieve S., Hilda M.,
Mary E. C., Bessie K. F., Grace M. B., Belle H., An-
gela and Alice, Laura C., Dorothea P., Agnes S., W. F.
A., Blanche M., G. H. V., Eugene C. H., Chester D.
S., E. P. M., Esther D., Dorothy A. G., Emma E. T.,
Theresa B., Anna L., M. C. L., Edith J., Helen A. W.,
Elise M. H., Elizabeth B., Everett M. H., Katharine S.
and Nan J. C., Marguerite, Margie G. R., Daisy M.,
Willie S., Florence and Marie, Mollie W., Marjorie C.,
Mamie S., E. R. Carter, "The Two L's," Lefavor H.
B., Hal., Grace H., Daisy S., Edith M. A., Mary R.
M., Bettie M. and Florence B., Carrie R., Evy T. McG.,
Lottie F., Paul R. G., Henrietta C., Robert B., Clar-
ence W. B., Anne L., Winifred C., Bennie and Pat,
Philip H. B., Eveline M., S. and C., Hilda W., Marga-
ret G. T., Helen W. B., Marie H. E., Isandula, Chaka
C. and "Cetewayo," Margaret S. W.



HALF-SQUARES. I. I. Manatee. 2. Azalea. 3. Named. 4. Ales.
5. Ted. 6. Ea (earn). 7. E. II. I. Peccary. 2. Elaine. 3.
Canon. 4. Cion. 5. Ann. 6. Re. 7. Y.
Mount). Cross-words. I. caMel. 2. glObe. 3. moUse. 4. caNes.
5. laTch.-- ANAGRAM. Thomas Carlyle.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Paste. 2. Abhor. 3. Shine. 4.
Tonic. 5. Erect. II. i. Hands. 2. Afoot. 3. Noble. 4. Dolce.
5. Steed. III. I. Tress. 2. Rapil. 3. Epode. 4. Sidle. 5. Sleep.
IV. i. Dumps. 2. Union. 3. Mitre. 4. Porte. 5. Sneer. V. i.
Phase. 2. Haven. 3. Avert. 4. Serge. 5. Enter.
DOUBLE ACROSTICS. I. Primals, Macaulay; finals, Tennyson.
Cross-words: i. Mount. 2. Atone. 3. Clean. 4. Adorn. 5. Unity.
6. Lotus. 7. Andro. 8. Yearn. II. Primals, Browning; finals,
Kingsley. Cross-words: I. Break. 2. Radii. 3. Oken. 4. Wrong.
5. Notes. 6. Ideal. 7. Nerve. 8. Giddy.
OCTAGON. I. Neb. 2. Cameo. 3. Nacarat. 4. Emanate. 5.
Berated. 6. Oaten. 7. Ted.

PI. Do you know where the crocus blows?
Under the snows;
Wide-eyed and winsome and daintily fair
As waxen exotic close-tended and rare;
Every child knows
Where the first crocus blows.
ILLUSTRATED METAMORPHOSIs. March, larch, parch, patch,
hatch, catch, watch, latch, match, march.
ZIGZAG. Lycidas. Cross-words: i. Lace. 2. hYmn. 3. taCt.
4. cadI. 5. coDe. 6. jAko. 7. Shag.
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Naval. 2. Adage. 3. Vague. 4. Agues.
5. Leese. II. I. Dread. 2. Raver. 3. Evite. 4. JEtna. 5. Dread.
Box PUZZLE. UPPER SQUARE: I. Lead. 2. Edge. 3. Ague.
4. Deer. SIDE SQUARE: x. Deer. 2. Emma. 3. Emit. 4. Rate.
LOWER SQUARE: I. Rate. 2. Aged. 3. Tend. 4. Eddy. From
4 to 7, rate.
A PENTAGON. I. S. 2. Sod. 3. Selah. 4. Soliped. 5. Dapple.
6. Helve. 7. Deem.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the s5th 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 JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 5ith, from "The McG's -Maude E.
Palmer- Paul Reese- G. B. Dyer-Josephine Sherwood- Three of "The Wise Five"- Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.-Mama and
Jamie Deerfoot"-"The Tivoli Gang"-"Maine and Minnesota"- "Uncle Mung"-A. H. R. and M. G. R.--Helen C.
McCleary- Ida Carleton Thallon "Chiddingstone "-Harriet Scott- Chloe, '93 "-"A Family Affair"- L. O. E.- E. M. G.-
"Infantry" Blanche and Fred Mabel and Papa Chester B. Sumner Stephen O. Hawkins-- Jessie Chapman- Ida and Alice -
Amelia O. Craig- Jo and I Rosalie Bloomingdale "Leather-stocking Dora F. Hereford.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 25th, from Sophia Boucher, George S. Seymour,
6 Arthur Barnard, 3 Harold Smith, I Lawrence Pumpelly, I Everett M..Hawley, 9 George W. Outerbridge, r Ruth Walker,
-Papa and Effie, i-Edith J., 3-Ruth B. Austin, Ruth and Leila, Eurydice Leland, i-James Strasburg, Howard A.
Plummer, i- Melville Hunnewell, 7- Lizzie A. Schilling, 3- Harold C. Durrell, J. L. Peabody, J. L. M., 2 Frederica D.
Bullene, I-"Toots and Coga," i- Nellie Louise J., 2--L. H. K., 3 -Margaret H. N. and A. H. N., 6-Mary M., x-Ammon High
and friend, Ruth Robinson, 3- Sallie E. Bradford, I- Rulinda M. Hough, I Lillie W., 2- Sadie, Jamsie, and Mama, 4 Erlmah
L. Paulett, I--"Three Wise Ones," 2- Jessie Fanshawe, I- Mary M. Bohannan, 2 May G., 3- John Whitney, x -Lillian Adonis,
3 Julian L. Peabody, i-- H. G. Dunham, Kim and Bubbles," 4- Mary Lewis, i Grace P. Lawrence, 2 Winifred V. W., 4 -
Rose Ottolengin, 9-Floy L. Noteman, Marion Cruff, 2--Mary Peter, r- Mary L. N., 3-Zole Agrati, 2-Edwin Rutherfurd, -
Bobbie Wallis, i- Geoffrey Parsons, 6--Ethel M. Cook, E. L. S., i Gwendolen Reid, 5--Laura Stedman, 2 G. T. Shirley,
i Bertie and Lelia Ford, 2 Minnie and Lizzie, I Carita Archibald, 7- Louise and Florence, I Dorothy Johnson, I- Belle and
Katherine, A. Pendennis, Esq.," 3- Margie F., i- Jessie I. Blake and Mama, 4 Elaine the fair," x-Aunt Kate and Ethel,
6- Marion and May, i -Irving, Bessie F. Keeler, 7 -G. B. N. H., 9 Laura M. Zinser, 8- Elinor Barras, 5 Nellie Hazledine,
i Mama and Charlie, 4- "May and'79," 7- May G. Martin, 2-Jessie and Aunt L., 6- Booth, s Maud and Dudley Banks, 9-
Effie K. Talboys, 8- Robert S. Walker, I-- Elizabeth, 5 "Three Blind Mice," 5- L. M. K., 4 Howard Eager, 9- Leonard K.
Sparrow, Jr., 3.


I. I. A FISH. 2. Escapes privately. 3. A marsh.
4. Impervious to the rays of light. 5. Consequence.
6. Property applicable to the discharge of debts.
II. I. A cavity. 2. Belonging to races or nations.
3. A pursuer. 4. To secure. 5. A range of moun-
tains. 6. To cry out. "XELIS."


2 16
3 0 17
4 II 18
5 12 19
6 13 20
7 14 21

From I to 8, to starve; from 2 to 9, a large grazing-
farm; from 3 to Io, to have in great plenty; from 4 to
Is, observing; from 5 to 12, to fondle; from 6 to 13, an
inhabitant of Greenland; from 7 to 14, a fine fish.
From 8 to 15, to associate familiarly; from 9 to 16, a

variety of brass made to resemble gold; from o1 to 17,
a weapon; from II to 18, a measure of capacity; from
12 to 19, to greet; from 13 to 20, motive; from 14 to 21,
floating in water.
The letters represented by the figures from I to 21,
name a popular story-writer. F. W. F.


I AM composed of fifty-seven letters, and am a quota-
tion from Lord Chesterfield.
My 35-14-49 is part of a wheel. My 27-2-54-47-
39-23 is the pharynx. My 11-20-9-29 is part of the
head. My 18-6-4 is to observe. My 44-16-32-22 is
the flower-de-luce. My 31-56-5-36 is a swarm of bees.
My40-53-3-57 is to cause to grow rapidly in value.
My 1-28-17 is for what cause. My 19-42-7-46 is to
injure. My 52-37-34-24-26 is a contest. My 13-48-
10-38-30 is to raise. My 45-43-15-41-33-51 is power-
ful. My 55-25-21-12-50-8 is a large island. B. G.


I. A VOWEL. 2. A tone of the diatonic scale. 3. A
sea eagle. 4. A breach. 5. Certain aquatic birds. 6.
Behind. 7. Precious stones. 8. Dress. 9. Pouring
forth. Io. Faltering. "XE.IS."


ALL of the following quotations
may be found in Shakspere's
works. When the missing words
have been rightly supplied and placed
side by side they will form a quota-
tion by La Rochefoucauld. .
I. "And wonder we to see thy
honest son will of thy arrival
be full joyous."
2. "Theevilthatmendo *
after them."
3- "Nor no * book
prologue, faintly spoke after the
S 4. "If thou remember'st not the
slightest *'* *
That ever love did make thee
run into, ; .;
Thou hast not loved."
5. "My. master of churlish
And little recks to find the
way t6 heaven
By doing deeds of hospi-
6. I am shepherd to another man
And do shear the fleeces that I graze."
7. And *, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe."
8. "Fools may not speak wisely what * men
do foolishly."
9. "* I do live by food, I met a fool."
10. dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are answered."
II. "Shylock,theworld * *,andIthinksotoo,
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act." L. W.
Ho, garlstyne Ifal het prail sayd!
Het wrobn sbud rended ni thire glith,
Dan spedris pins yb ady dan thing;
Het lowwil flits a lelyow haez
Fo grinsping slavee ot teme eht nus,
Hewil wond theri twihe-tones scores nur
Het twifs, gadl skorob, dan sinhunes swavee
A thole fo gener rof swiploc veales
Thoghur lal het slifed fo larip sady.


4 .2

CROSS-WORDS: I. Timid. 2. Vapor 3. Wastes by
friction. 4. Abeverage. 5. In prognostication. 6. A

useful article. 7. To make a proposal
of. 8. Veracity. 9. Antique.
Central letters, salutary; from I to 2,
a beverage; from 3 to 4, a contest in
boxing. H. W. E.

In shreds.- 2. To place. 3. A gover-
nor. 4. A. nunmbl..r. 5. In shreds.
I. In shreds. 2. A cover. 3. Acted ir-
rationally. 4. A vegetable. 5. In shreds.
2. To forcein. 3. Became furious. 4. Encountered. 5. In
2. Period. 3. Apparel. 4. A beast of burden. 5. In


I -. ... 2

5 :.. .* 6

FROM I to 2, a poster ; froni I to 3, a winged horse;
from 2 to 3, obscures; from 4 to 5, an alloy of mercury
with another metal; from 4 to 6, a kind of pzile : from
5 to 6, to call by a wrong name.' M. s.


ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag, be-
ginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell what Dr.
Johnson called Dean Bathurst.
CROSS-WORDS: I." The ship which carried Jason and
his companions to Colchis. 2. Venerable. 3. A mas-
culine name. 4. Likewise. 5. The lower part of the
wall of an apartment when adorned with moldings, or
otherwise specially decorated. 6. A nautical term used
in hailing. 7. Related by blood. 8. An English town,
famous for its college. 9. The end of a prayer. o1. The
harness of horses or cattle. TOMMY R.




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