• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Toinette's Philip
 Springtime holiday
 How Bert killed a jaguar
 Jingle
 When mistress Peggy comes...
 Polly Oliver's problem
 Columbus at La Rabida
 A night with the poachers
 A May morning in Venice
 The World's Fair Palaces
 May-time in the country (Illus...
 The white cave
 Short and sweet
 The secrets of snake-charming
 Poet's narcissus (Illustration...
 Far in the woods in May
 The tinman
 The story of monkey-moke
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The magic glasses
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00269
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00269
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
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Toinette's Philip
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
        Page 490
        Page 491
    Springtime holiday
        Page 492
        Page 493
    How Bert killed a jaguar
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
    Jingle
        Page 499
    When mistress Peggy comes to town
        Page 500
        Page 501
    Polly Oliver's problem
        Page 502
        Page 503
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
        Page 507
        Page 508
    Columbus at La Rabida
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
    A night with the poachers
        Page 512
        Page 513
        Page 514
        Page 515
        Page 516
    A May morning in Venice
        Page 517
    The World's Fair Palaces
        Page 518
        Page 519
        Page 520
        Page 521
        Page 522
        Page 523
        Page 524
        Page 525
        Page 526
        Page 527
        Page 528
    May-time in the country (Illustration)
        Page 529
    The white cave
        Page 530
        Page 531
        Page 532
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
        Page 536
    Short and sweet
        Page 537
    The secrets of snake-charming
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
        Page 541
        Page 542
        Page 543
        Page 544
    Poet's narcissus (Illustration)
        Page 545
    Far in the woods in May
        Page 546
    The tinman
        Page 547
    The story of monkey-moke
        Page 548
        Page 549
        Page 550
        Page 551
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 552
        Page 553
    The magic glasses
        Page 554
        Page 555
    The letter-box
        Page 556
        Page 557
        Page 558
    The riddle-box
        Page 559
        Page 560
        Page 561
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text













II




*- r

















!4 ,

















o, *k'







WHEN MISTRESS PEGGY COMES TO TOWN.

(SEE PAGE 500.)


















ST. NICHOLAS.


MAY, 1893.
Copyright, x893, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


TOINETTE'S PHILIP.

By MRS. C. V. JAMISON.
Autlor of "Lady Jane."


CHAPTER I.
PHILIP, DEA, AND "HOMO."
ONE sunny morning early in March, two
children, a boy and a girl, followed by a large
shaggy dog, slowly sauntered up Rue Royale
in the French quarter of New Orleans. The
boy was about nine years old, the girl not more
than eight, the dog no one could tell his age
with any degree of certainty, but he was no
longer young, for the gray hairs about his
muzzle, and his long, hollow flanks, plainly
showed that he had seen many and evil days.
He was of the breed commonly called wolf,"
his body was covered with coarse, bristling hair,
and his long nose and pointed, alert ears gave
him an intelligent and inquisitive look in spite
of his drooping tail and spiritless walk. With-
out looking to the right or left he followed
closely on the heels of the children, occasionally
sniffing at a bag which hung over the boy's
shoulder. When they slackened their pace to
glance into a shop window, or to make room
for a passer, the dog also stopped and eyed
the bag wistfully, a few drops of water now and
then falling from his mouth on the pavement.
The boy, from time to time, glanced down at


the patient creature smilingly, while he reached
out a thin brown hand to pat his head fondly.
"' Homo' smells my lunch. It 's no use, I
must stop and give him some," he said at last,
placing on a door-step near him a tray of flow-
ers which he had been carefully carrying.
He was a handsome boy, lithe and slim, and
tall for his age, with large blue eyes of a merry
cast, straight, clear-cut features, and curling
brown hair. He was cleanly but poorly clad in
a blue shirt and short trousers of the same color;
a small white cap covered a portion of his thick
hair which lay in heavy rings over his forehead,
just above his straight, dark eyebrows. The
little girl who accompanied him was an uncom-
mon and picturesque figure. A dark-red frock
fell straight to her heels; a white muslin scarf,
crossed in front, was tied behind, the long ends
almost touching the pavement when she walked;
her very thick black hair was cut off square, like
a mane over her shoulders, and was partially
covered by a red silk kerchief knotted under
her chin; her little, worn, prematurely old face
was as white and delicate as a Roman cameo;
her eyes, unnaturally large, were intensely dark,
so dark that they showed through her drooping
lids, and her small, firmly closed mouth seemed


VOL. XX.


No. 7.





TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


never to have smiled. On her arm she carried
a basket in which, carefully packed in soft
paper, were several little colored wax-figures,
delicately and beautifully modeled. One was
" Esmeralda and her Goat," another Dea and
the Wolf," another "Quasimodo in short,'
they all represented characters taken from the
stories of Victor Hugo. That they were of
almost sacred value to the child was apparent
in the careful way she carried them, and the
occasional glance of pride and solicitude she
bestowed upon them.
When the boy stopped and put down his
tray of flowers orange-blossoms, roses, and vio-
lets, she, too, stopped and placed her basket on
the steps, drawing, as she did so, a thick paper
over the little figures to shield them from the
sun and dust.
After the boy's hands were free he proceeded
to unfasten the bag, smiling all the time at the
old dog who pressed close to him, his sunken
eyes full of expectation.
Don't be in a hurry, Homo, don't be in a
hurry," he said gently. "You shall have your
breakfast. I made Mammy Toinette put in
plenty of bread. I knew you 'd be hungry; I
knew you would."
The little girl, with her hands tightly clasped,
stood looking on almost as anxiously as the
dog. Suddenly the boy fixed-his eyes on her
inquiringly, and his face flushed to his fore-
head. Did you have anything to eat before
you came out, Dea ?- Now, tell me the truth, did
you ? he asked earnestly.
The child turned paler if possible, and looked
away evasively, but made no reply.
"Tell me now, Dea, quick. I sha'n't give
Homo a mouthful till you tell me."
"I did n't want anything to eat, Philip," she
said tremulously. "Pauv' papa* had one of his
bad spells."
"And you did n't sleep any last night. I
can tell by your looks that you did n't."
"Not much," she replied, sighing; "pauv'
papa walked all night. I think he was in pain.
I could n't sleep when he was suffering."
"You could n't, of course," said the boy,
soothingly. "But never mind now, Dea. Eat
some breakfast and give Homo some. You


like mammy's fried chicken, and I 've enough
for all of us."
And as the boy spoke, he unfolded a clean
white napkin and displayed some squares of
corn-bread, and a quantity of chicken fried crisp
and brown. Take all you want," and he held
it out invitingly.
"I '11 give some to Homo," said the girl,
taking a piece of the chicken with the tips of
her slender fingers and offering it to the old
dog, who swallowed it without the least attempt
to chew it, sighing contentedly as he did so.
While the girl and the dog were eating, the
boy uncovered the basket, and taking out one
by one the small figures, looked at them admir-
ingly, turning them to blow off an occasional
speck of dust.
"They 're as natural as life, Dea," he said
encouragingly. I hope you '11 sell one to-
day. You have n't sold one since Mardi Gras,
have you ? It must be the rainy weather that
has kept people out of the streets; but now it's
cleared off, Rue Royale will be full of strangers,
and you '11 be sure to sell one to-day."
"Oh, I hope so, Philip, for pauv' papa's
sake," replied the girl, as she gave her last
crumb of bread to the dog; "he has n't any
money, and he 's so unhappy when he has n't
any money." Then she covered her face with
her hands and began to cry silently.
Don't, Dea, don't cry!" said the boy gently,
as he took up his tray of flowers and the child's
basket as well. Come on, let's hurry. Grande
Seline will be back to-day, and she 's sure to
bring you something."
But if she is n't there, Philip, what shall I
do ? Pauv' papa had no supper last night, and
there 's no breakfast for him this morning. I
ought to have taken him the bread and chicken
you gave me. Homo and I could have waited.
I was n't so hungry, because I had your lunch
yesterday. Now it 's gone; we have eaten it,
and pauv' papa has n't any."
Take the rest of my lunch, Dea," said the
boy stoutly. I don't want it; I can wait till
night. Mammy Toinette promised me- gumbo
for supper."
The little, girl smiled faintly through her tears
as she trotted on beside her friend, who still


*Pauvre faa, poor papa. Used affectionately and pityingly.


484






TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


carried her basket. "Gumbo! how nice to
have gumbo for supper," she said with a soft
sigh.
Yes, it's good, with plenty of rice," replied
her companion; and mammy would give you
some if you 'd go home with me."
I can't, Philip; papa would be angry. He
never allows me to go into any house, and he
never has any one to -visit him."
"That 's why he has
no money and does n't
sell more little images,"
returned the boy with
some show of anger. If
he made friends, you
would not have to go
hungry."
Pauv' papa," sighed
the child, "he 's so ill
and unhappy. He cried
when he put Quasimodo
in the basket; he said
it was the best figure
he had ever modeled-
that it was a work of art
and worth a great deal." I
"A work of art! re-
peated the boy scorn-
fully. "It 's not half as
pretty as Esmeralda and
her goat. It's an ugly,
crooked little monster.! "
"Well, Quasimodo
was like that," returned
Dea with some spirit.
" Papa has often read to
me about him; he was Carillonneur* of the
great cathedral Notre Dame de Paris."
Oh, yes, I know," said Philip, "you 've
told me all about him, don't you remember?
But I like Esmeralda best. I 'm sure you 'll
sell Esmeralda first."
I hope so; fauv' papa said that I must sell
something to-day. If I don't, Philip, I 'm sure
he will walk again to-night."
"Well, let's hurry then," cried Philip, quick-
ening his steps. If Grande Seline is there,
she '11 help us to find a customer; and she
promised to be there to-day."


CHAPTER II..
GRANDE SELINE.
OH, there 's Grande Seline! cried Philip,
joyfully, as they drew near the old Union Bank
not far from Canal street. "She 's setting up
her stand now."
"Yes, there she is," exclaimed Dea, starting
into a swift run toward a stout, laughing mulat-


PHILIP, DEA, AND "HOMO."


tress who was standing near a table under the
portico of the bank, tying a white apron around
her thick waist.
Oh, honey! she gurgled as she clasped the
child tight, oh, honey, how glad I is ter see
yer, an' Mars' Philip, too! How you 's both
done growed since I's been gone."
"And how thin you 've grown, Seline,"
replied Philip, his blue eyes sparking with mer-
riment. "You 've lost flesh going to the coun-
try to your cousin's wedding."
My, my, jes' hear dat boy! Do yer think
I's slimmer, Ma'mselle Dea ? and she looked


* Bell-ringer, one who plays the chimes.


485






TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


complacently at her fat sides as she smoothed
the folds of her starched apron. "An' what's
you chil'run been er-doin' all dis yere time
dat I 's been away? An' how 's jer pauv'
papa, Ma'mselle? "
He.'s very bad, Seline; he does n't sleep,"
returned Dea, sighing sadly..
My, my,.honey, I 's sorry ter hear sech bad
newses! said Seline, with sympathy., "An' is
yer done sole any yer little images while I's
gone ter der weddin' ? "
No, Seline, not one. Pauv' papa's finished
Quasimodo; I've got him in my basket., I 'm
to sell him for five dollars."
"Well, honey, ef yer want ter sell him yer
got ter stan' him out where people 'll see him;
't ain't no use ter keep him covered up in yer
basket. I 'm going' ter give yer a corner of my
table," and Grande Seline swept aside her pile
of fruits and cakes, smiling benevolently as she
did so.
But the dust, Seline; papa does n't like them
to get dusty."
Never mind der dust, chile; it 'll blow off.
It's der money we want; but I don't see how
yer goin' ter sell dat pore little crooked image!"
and Seline looked doubtfully at the.work of art
as Dea disencumbered it of its wrappings, and
stood it as far away as possible from a generous
pile of pralines. Now, dat little one. with the
goat is right peartlookin', an' it 's strange yer
don't sell it."
"You see, it 's rained ever since you went
away, Seline, and there's been no strangers in
the streets," said Philip, coming forward to
move Quasimodo a little more into the shadow
of one of the fluted columns that decorate the
facade of the old bank. "If it had n't been for
funerals and weddings, mammy would n't have
sold any flowers. I 've been here every day-
since you went to the country, and I have n't
sold a dozen boutonnieres."
Dat 's 'cause yer did n't have my table ter
show yer flowers on, Mars' Philip. No one
don't notice little cre'tur's like you is. It takes
an ole woman like I is ter get customers," said
Grande Seline, chuckling and shaking her fat
sides, as she arranged Philip's flowers and
sprinkled them lightly from a can of water.
"An' dat ole dog, too, he knows I's back; he's


done tuck his same place under dis yere table.
Jes' look at de pore cretur; -he 's ter home,
shore!"
Yes, Homo 's glad you 're back, Seline; and
so are we," said Philip, leaning over the table
and smiling up into the kind dusky face. I
don't know which of us has missed you most,
but I think Dea has."
"Pore chile!" and the old woman glanced
fondly at the little girl. I's thought heaps
about yer boaf, and I 's glad I 's back. Yer
ain't had yer scarf washed since I 's gone, is
yer, honey? Well, jes' slip it off when yer go
home, an' I '11 bring it ter yer clean in der
mawnin'. An' see what I got in my basket fer
yer supper ter-night," making a little, panto-
mime to Philip as she took out a palcklage
folded in a clean napkin. "A half a chicken
I done brought from de country, some flour
bread, an' a slice of'dat cheese yer fauv' papa
likes; an'"jes' look at dis yere, chil'run, some of
der weddin'-cake fer yer! It 's fine cake! dat
cousin knows how ter make cake; her ole Miss'
learned her. Now, aiin't dat dar pretty cake as
yer ever seed ?''
"Oh,. oh, Seline, is n't it nice?," cried bol.t
children at once, "and the sugar on it is so,
thick and white."
"Now, you jes' eat some," she said, lhndinr
a generous slice to each; an' dis what 's left is
part fer yer pauv' papa, mam'selle, an' part Eor
yer mammy, Mars' Philip."
"Why, Seline, you 're awful good," cried the
boy, his mouth full of cake. I told Dea you 'd
bring us something from the country."
"May I keep half of mine for t:-tmrilr:row
Seline ?" asked Dea when she had s:u, 1y e.aten
a part of hers.
"Why, yes, chile, if yer wants ter. An' jes'
take dis yere bundle of chicken an' put it in der
bottom of yer basket fer yer supper."
Dea took the package with treibluiL hands
and glistening eyes. Oh, Seline, how good
you are! Pauv' papa will be so glad," she
whispered.
"Yes, I know, honey, I know; an' I 'm goin'
to sell one of dem little images fer yer papa dis
yere day, er my name ain't Seline. I ain't been
right yere in dis place since endurin' der war fer
nothing My ole mars' what was president of


486


[MAY,






TOIl$ETTE'S PHILIP.


dis bank,-yer see, chil'run, it use' ter be a bank
full of money afore der war,- he done tole me I
could set up my stan' yere. He say, Seline,
you '11 make yer fortune yere.' Well, I ain't
made no fortune, but I 's done made right
smart, an' now I 's got plenty to do a little fer
you, honey, what ain't got no ma, only a pauv'
sick papa; so I 's goin' ter help yer sell yer little
images. Yer tired an' sleepy, chile; jes' drap
down on my little stool, an' take a nap in der
shade, an' I '11 look out fer customers."
Dea did not wait for a second invitation to
sleep; her poor little head ached, and her eyes
were heavy from her.night's vigils, so she sank
down contentedly in Seline's broad shadow, and,
resting her pale face against the good woman's
clean apron, she slept as peacefully as did the
old dog at her feet; and Philip, perched on
the base of one of the massive columns, swung
his bare brown legs and whistled softly, while he
waited for the customer promised by Seline with
so much confidence.

CHAPTER III.
HOW THEY BECAME ACQUAINTED.
SOME ten or twelve years before the begin-
ning of this story, when Grande Seline had es-
tablished her lunch-stand under the portico of
the Union Bank, the handsome structure was
used for the purpose indicated by the name, cut
in large letters on the stone facade; but the
civil war and numerous unfortunate financial
changes had abolished the business, and the fine
old building had degenerated from its dignified
position into a second-class theater or "variety
show." On the massive fluted columns hung
-huge colored posters, and against the gray old
walls were fastened tall boards covered with
ludicrous pictures of dancing dogs, Chinese jug-
glers, and absurd caricatures, set forth in glar-
ing colors in order to attract the attention of the
common people. Where formerly grave black-
coated financiers passed in and out, now lounged
a motley crowd to read the playbills, or scan
the grotesque pictures, jesting and laughing as
they elbowed and'jostled one another. Among
them were some of the better class, who lingered
near Seline's stand, in the corner of the portiqo,
to drink a glass of her cold lemonade or to eat


some of her fresh pralines, crisp and toothsome,
with the nuts showing thickly through their
glossy coats. And beside her sweets, in a clean
basket carefully covered with a fresh napkin
were dainty sandwiches of French rolls filled
with chicken or ham, and the lightest and whit-
est of sponge-cake liberally coated with sugar.
In the old days it was the custom of the busy
officials of the bank to snatch a hasty lunch
from Seline's basket, and to wash it down with
a glass of her delicious lemonade; now it was
another class that patronized her. Still, the qual-
ity of her wares remained the same; therefore
she always had a large custom among the
habitues of the theater, and in the course of all
these years she-had saved up a snug little sum,
and could well afford to be generous at times.
Two or three years before, when Philip had
first made his appearance on Rue Royale with
his tray of flowers, while lingering near her
stand to feast his eyes on her tempting display,
Seline's attention was attracted by his innocent,
charming face. He was not more than six
years old at that time, and his merry laugh and
pleasant chatter won her heart at once. From
that day she took him under her especial care,
and Philip's fresh, fragrant flowers always found
a shady corner on Seline's table.
Not long after these friendly relations began,
the boy appeared one day with a pale, sad-
eyed little girl, dressed in a shabby, black frock,
and carrying a small basket in which were a
few exquisitely modeled wax figures. He intro-
duced his companion with great confidence to
Grande Seline, taking it for granted that the
kindly woman would extend to his forlorn little
friend the affection she so freely lavished upon
him. And he was not mistaken. Seline took
the mournful little creature right to her great
heart.
I always done loved little gals der best; boys
is good eruf, but mighty triflin' and trying, "
'she said by way of excuse to Philip, who she
feared might be a little jealous of her sudden
interest in Dea.
Philip first met the little girl on Ursulines
street. She was in great trouble. An overfed
bulldog had attacked Homo when he was
very hungry, and consequently very weak, and
though the poor old animal fought bravely, he


487






TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


was about to be "the under dog in the fight,"
when Philip appeared, and so sturdily bela-
bored the enemy with a stout stick that he let
go and stood at bay, while Homo took refuge
in instant flight, followed by the little girl, who,
in her excitement, left her basket on the ban-
quette. Philip, after he had driven the bulldog
into a neighboring yard, and closed the gate
upon him, picked up the neglected property
and ran after the owner.
Poor little thing, she was frightened and
breathless; but she stopped to thank her deliv-
erer, between her sobs, while she grasped the
dog's collar with both trembling hands.
It was n't Homo's fault," she explained,
in rapid French. "The other dog began it.
Homo 's old and hungry, but he 's got lots of
spirit, and he won't bear an insult. The dog
was rude to Homo, and he could n't help
fighting."
"I know," returned Philip; I don't blame
your dog; he could n't help standing up to a
saucy beast like that."
His ready sympathy and sensible apprecia-
tion of I-omo's self-respect won the little girl's
confidence at once, and from that day they were
fast friends. She was very reticent, and Philip,
with inborn delicacy, did not question her
much; but from her remarks he learned that
she lived on Viller6 street, that her mother was
dead, and that her father was an artist en cire,*
and that he modeled the pretty little figures
which she tried to sell from house to house.
Pauv' papa is always ill," she explained, in
a grave, soft little voice; "his head hurts him,
and he can't sleep at night, and since mama
died he never sees any one, and never goes out
in the day; he says the light hurts him. Some-
times he goes out in the evening, and stays a
long time. I don't know where he goes, but I
think it is to the cimetiere, to mama's grave."
Philip's bright face clouded; he felt like cry-
ing with the child, but he said bravely, I wish"
you'd come with me up on Rue Royale; you'd
have a better chance. I 've a friend there who
has a stand; her name is Grande Seline; I 'm
sure she '11 help you sell your little figures."
Dea accepted the kind invitation gratefully,
and, having the good fortune to win Seline's
affection at first sight, the child found a faithful


friend, who cared for her in many ways with
remarkable tenderness and devotion.
Every day, in rain or shine, the handsome
boy and the sad-faced little girl could be found
near Seline, while their wares occupied a part of
her table, under which Homo slept soundly- a
weary animal, who at last had found a secure
and peaceful haven of rest.
The first break in this pleasant arrangement
was when Seline went for a few weeks into the
country, to be present at the wedding of a
dusky kinswoman. Now she had returned,
much to the delight of the children, who entered
upon their former relations with the utmost
confidence and security.

CHAPTER IV.
LILYBEL.

POOR little Dea slept peacefully, safe under
Seline's friendly shadow, and Philip whistled
merrily, now that his burden of care had fallen
on broader and stronger shoulders; and while
Dea slept and Philip whistled, Seline drowsed
in the soft spring air, slowly waving her bunch
of peacock-feathers to keep off the flies, This
she did quite mechanically, whether her eyes
were open or closed, and it served a good pur-
pose in keeping pilfering fingers away from her
sweets, as well as banishing the obtrusive winged
creatures that hovered above her; for Seline
was often in the land of dreams when her
feathers were waving back and forth with rhyth-
mic precision.
On this day she slept with one eye open, for
she was on, the lookout for a suitable owner for
Esmeralda or Quasimodo. "It 's 'bout time
fer strangers ter come along," she said to her--
self, "an' I knows er stranger soon 's I set eyes
on one; dey 's der ones what buys dem little
images."
Suddenly both eyes opened wide, and Seline
straightened up and looked toward Canal street.
"Sure 's I born, dar 's dat Lilybel er-comin'!
What dat boy er-comin' yere dis time er day
fur ? Did n't I sont him on der levee, an' tole
him ter stay dar till he done sole all what he got
in his basket?"
Philip stopped whistling, and turned amused
eyes toward Lilybel, who slowly approached,


* In wax.


488






TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


looking very sheepish. He was a mite of a
darky, as black and glossy as a rubber shoe,
with large whites to his bead-like eyes, and
teeth that glistened like grains of new corn.
His sunburned hair stood off from his head as


he looked more like a small scarecrow than a
member of the human family; and had it not
been for his rolling eyes and broad grin, Lilybel
would have deceived the wisest old crow in a
corn-field.


"LILYBEL COULD NOT RESIST SCRAMBLING FOR SOME OF THE NUTS, AND SELINE CAUGHT HIM." (SEE PAGE 490.)
though he were in a state of chronic fright, and "Now jes' look at dat boy; ain't he a sight ?"
his broad mouth was stretched almost from ear cried Seline in a shrill voice, a voice cultivated
to ear in a mirth-provoking grin; his body was expressly for Lilybel. I done sont him out
round and fat, and from his short crooked legs clean an' peart dis mawnin', an' now yere he is
his large feet stood out at right angles; one rag- all muddy an' frazzled! I suttenly knows he 's
ged suspender over a torn dirty shirt held up a er been rollin' down der levee with jes' sich
muddy bundle of breeches, the ragged legs of triflin' chil'run like he-self. Come yere!" and
which were rolled close to his thighs. Altogether she thrust out a threatening hand, which Lilybel


489





TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


490


adroitly dodged. Come yere, I say, afore I
slap yer head off! "
Lilybel paid no attention to Seline's startling
threat, but skilfully kept out of reach, until he
wormed himself behind the column where
Philip sat laughing in spite of Seline's trouble;
and there, in an excellent position for dodging a
stray shot, he looked out, grinning defiantly.
Is yer gwine ter come yere ? cried Seline,
quite beside herself. "Jes' let me get my han'
on yer," and she jumped up so suddenly that
she dropped her bunch of feathers in her jar
of lemonade, while she nearly overturned Dea,
who awoke startled and confused at the fracas.
And even Homo arose alertly, and sniffed the
air, then turned around and curled himself up
for another nap. It was nothing; he was ac-
customed to these scenes between Lilybel and
Seline. -" Does yer hear me? Come yere an'
tell me what yer done wirth yer basket!" and,
leaning across the table in a frantic effort to
grab the culprit, Seline came near sending
Quasimodo to sudden and irreparable ruin,
while she scattered a shower of pecans over the
pavement.
Lilybel could not resist scrambling for some
of the nuts, and while intent on this hunt,
Seline caught him by the remnant of his shirt
and dragged him up before a terrible and piti-
less tribunal.
Finding himself a prisoner beyond hope of
escape, Lilybel, assuming an injured expression,
declared with a mournful rolling of his eyes
" dat he had n't done nofin; on'y jes' tumbled
in der ruver an' got fished out when he was
mos' drownedd"
An' whar's yer basket? What yer done with
yer basket?" cried Seline,'shaking Lilybel so
energetically that he looked like a bundle of
tatters in a strong wind.
It's done los' in der ruver," mumbled Lily-
bel, rolling his eyes and sniffling.
"Los' in der ruver/" repeated Seline slowly.
" Now, chile, yer is n't tellin der trufe, an' yer
knows I won't have no boys a-tellin' me lies.
I '11 wear dat peach-tree switch out on yer dis
night ef yer don't tell der trufe."
It 's der trufe, ma, es sure as I is a-stan'in'
yere," returned Lilybel stoutly. "I done los'
it in der ruver."


How come yer los' it in der ruver ? Tell
me how come yer los' it dar? and Seline em-
phasized her question with another shake, which
made Lilybel's teeth chatter, while a shower of
muddy water flew from his rags all over his
ma's white apron.
"It's dis yere way I los' it," gasped Lilybel,
hastening to explain. I done went on er plank,
whar dem rousterbouts is a-wheelin' coal on a
big steamer, an jes' es I was er-showin' my cakes,
a big feller run inter me an' push me flop inter
der ruver.. An', ma, I was nearly drowned; I
was nearly dade," cried Lilybel, growing pa-
thetic as he approached the climax. "I done
come up der las' time, when er rousterbout grab
me an' pull me out."
"I wonder ef yer is er-tellin' me der trufe,
Lilybel," questioned Seline doubtfully as she
relaxed her grasp a little.
"I is, ma, I is!" and Lilybel rolled his eyes
and-twisted his mouth into various affirmative
contortions, while Seline for some little time
held him at arm's-length and examined him
critically.'
"It's no use ter believe yer, Lilybel; I jes'
got ter find out ef yer did fall inter der ruver
an los' yer basket," continued Seline solemnly;
"but ef yer is er-tellin der trufe, yer suttenly
did n't have much in yer basket when yer done
los' it, cause yer is full alamos' ter burstin' with
dem cakes an' pralines. Oh, yer is a triflin',
worryin' chile, an' I's got ter use der rod on yer
plenty 'fore I's done with yer! Go down dar
an' curl up with dat ole dog; it 's the bes'
place fer yer!" and with a sounding slap,
Seline thrust the culprit under the table, close to
Homo, where with a satisfied chuckle he nes-
tled down, his head on the dog, and in a few
moments was sleeping as soundly and irrespon-
sibly as the animal beside him.
"Now, Mars' Philip, yer see what a trial I's
got," said Seline, turning to Philip for sympathy.
" It ain't no use putting' conference in Lilybel. I
s'pects he done eat dem cake an' pralines, an'
frowed dat basket away. My, my! he 's goin'
ter ruin me ef I lets him have a basket. How
come dat boy 's so bad ? continued Seline re-
flectively. "An I done name him fer his two
little sisters what 's dade, two peart chil'run as
yer ever did see, an' jes' es sweet an' good es






TOINETTE'S PHILIP.


Ma'mselle Dea. It 's jes' es I say: gals is
natchly good, an' boys is natchly bad."
"Oh, Seline, I 'm a boy," interposed Philip,
" and I 'm not so bad."
"No, no, honey, yer is n't bad; but ye 're
white, an' white boys is different."
Only think, Seline, Lilybel might have
drowned," said Dea softly; "then how sorry you
would have been."
Dat boy drowned I No, no, chile; I 's
more 'feared he 's born ter be hanged, 'cause
Lilybel 's mighty mannish, an' training' don't do
him no good. I 's got heaps of trouble with
dat boy."
While this conversation was in progress,
Seline tidied up her table, and restored Quasi-


..THERE JUT


modo to his original position, still intent, in
spite of Lilybel's unexpected interruption, on
finding a customer.
Dar 's dat stranger what use' ter pass yere
right often fer flowers an' pralines. He 's goin'
ter buy yer little image if he comes ter-day.
He paints pictures up in der top of dat tall
house down yere on Rue Royale. An' he 's
from der norf, an' rich -rich!"
Dea's little wan face took on a pleased, ex-
pectant look. Seating herself primly on a
stool beside Seline, she watched the passers
,attentively, while Philip, standing on the edge
of the banquette, whistled impatiently as he
scanned the people on the opposite side of the
street.


(To be continued.)












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NE F OINNE FOR A EAy LION.
NIC" l S STI











SPRINGTIME HOLIDAY.

BY MAURICE THOMPSON.

OH, don't you think we 'd better take our springtime holiday ?
There 's something in the southern breeze that says it 's time to play.
The oriole's on the apple bough, the lark is in the grass;
The jays and bluebirds film the air with azure as they pass;
The cows low in the pasture-fields, and don't you hear the sheep
With tender bells along the fells and in the dells so deep?

Come out! come out! The leaves are young, the bees begin to boom;
The slopes are blue with violets, spring-beauties are in bloom;
The bass is leaping in the brook, the heron watches him;
The old kingfisher nods upon the flowery dogwood limb;
Oh, where 's my rod? and where 's my line? and where 's my hackle gray?
My reel ? my creel ? I think I feel like taking holiday!
White as fleeces on the hills the wild plum-thickets blow,
And over the winding meadow stream the willows droop and glow;
Across the field the plowman sings, plodding behind his team:
His words are like the lonesome sounds that wander through a dream;
For it is May, and everything half sleeping seems to say:
"Shirk, shirk,-slip off from work and have a holiday!"

There 's something dancing in the air, it beckons down the lane:
Oh, Lazy Lawrence, did you ever, ever call in vain?
Loafing, aimless butterfly, wandering bumblebee,
This one time, if never more, I '11 shift and drift with thee;
.\ For all the earth is gaily dressed, has cast its cares away,
And why not I a-fishing hie, and have my holiday ?
A holiday! a holiday! The robin lolls and swings;
S Upon the pear-tree's broken bough with half-extended wings
"The flicker drums in lazing mood; the silent hawk on high
Slides like a gray old burnt-out moon against the drowsy sky;
S And oh, you know, but once a year we have the dream o' May,
SThe bloom o' May, the birds o' May, and springtime
holiday !

. . ........


-j. : -






















































































SPRINGTIME HOLIDAY.
493





















ABOUT
our vil-
lagehome
in Brazil
a the killing
--- -of a jaguar
... is glory allotted
A JAGUAR FISHING. to but few, because
the creatures are not very common; I suppose
the region has been settled too long, and jag-
uars, more than any other Brazilian animals,
avoid the presence of man. Now and then we
heard of cattle being killed by them; and once
some hunters brought in a good-sized fellow
which I bought for the sake of the skin and
skull. Strangely enough, they had killed it with
No. 8 shot. I have the skin yet, and it is a
very pretty home-ornament.
But what is a purchased jaguar-hide com-
pared to one fairly acquired with gun and bul-
let! Bert can show you a finer specimen than
mine, and one infinitely more precious, for he
shot the animal himself. I am going to tell
you of that hunt. Some of my boy readers,
I hope, will come to know the grand excite-
ment of jaguar-hunting, though few of you are
likely to experience it at Bert's age. At that
time he was only seventeen years old, and
Carlos was rather younger,
One morning Dolly and I were riding some
miles from Chapada, Brazil; the road was on
open campo land, but near the edge of a large
forest tract. The woods, as usual, spread like
a wall against the grass and scattered low trees
of the clearer tract called the campo. This
campo affords very good pasturage, and small
herds of cattle are kept on it, roaming about in


By HERBERT H. SMITH.

a half wild state. I remember being a little
surprised that there were none along the road,
for it was a favorite grazing-place.
Dolly, who was riding ahead, called my at-
tention to a singular track or trail, which
crossed the road diagonally and appeared to
enter the woods. You may have seen a country
road where a log has been dragged over the
ground by oxen. Well, this trail was much like
that of the log, only broader and more irregu-
lar. Plainly, some heavy object had been
pulled across the campo. But how, and why?
Even supposing that one of the rare travelers
here had, dragged something, how could he
have dragged an object so heavy as this had
evidently been? And why should he drag it
across instead of along the road? I noticed,
too, that our horses smelled uneasily at the
track, and seemed anxious to get away from it.
Now, in these regions one learns to ascribe
every track to a wild animal, unless it can be
plainly shown that it was made by man or by
tame animals. Neither Dolly nor I doubted
for a moment that this trail had been made by
an animal dragging its prey; and the only
beast of prey in Brazil that could have pulled a
load so heavy was a jaguar. Probably it had
killed one of the cattle which commonly grazed
here; the rest of the herd had stampeded, and
that would explain why there were none in
sight.
We followed the trail to the woods,-our
horses going unwillingly enough,-and saw
that it passed under the trees. Then we
crossed the road, and followed in the other di-
rection. Presently we came to a place where
the turf was all torn up, as if by a struggle.





HOW BERT KILLED A JAGUAR.


There was no blood,-jaguars generally kill by
striking the shoulder or back with their muscu-
lar paws; but among the cattle-tracks I soon
found imprints that could have been made only
by a jaguar's foot, and a very large one at that.
This was quite proof enough, and of course it
would have been useless and dangerous for me
to follow the trail into the woods, armed, as I
was, only with a small revolver, and without
dogs. So we galloped back to Chapada to
warn our hunters.
Luckily, both Bert and Carlos were at home,
and mightily pleased they were at our news;
neither had yet killed a jaguar, though they had
tracked more than one. After consultation we
agreed that it would be better to call in the aid
of a young planter who lived some five miles
from Chapada; this man was an experienced
jaguar-hunter, and had two dogs well trained
to the sport. The planter had several long and
high-sounding names, but he was commonly
known by the first two of them; for conve-
nience I shall call him Augusto.
A messenger galloped off, and brought Au-
gusto back in less than two hours; meanwhile,
the boys had been loading cartridges with ball
and buckshot, and sharpening their wood-
knives. Augusto brought his two dogs, and
after some hesitation we concluded to take our
own dog, Boca-negra," though he had no ex-
perience in jaguar-hunting. Leaving the vil-
lage about noon, we presently met our old
hunter, Vicente, with his gun and a couple of
scraggly dogs. He needed no urging to turn
back with us, dogs and all; so we were now
five, with five dogs and four guns. As looker-
,on and historian I carried only a revolver.
In an hour we reached the trail, none of
us tired, though the boys had come on foot.
In these highlands even the mid-day air is
gloriously fresh, and exercise in it a real luxury.
Here Augusto and I dismounted, and sent
our horses back by a man we had brought.
The dogs, already barking on the trail, were
secured, our belts tightened and Vicente's gun
reloaded with ball, and together we plunged
into the woods.
There was no difficulty in following the trail,
and five minutes brought us to the little open
spot where the jaguar had left its prey. This


was a cow, nearly full grown; and, considering
that the carcass had been dragged half a mile,
partly through tangled forest, we were not in-
clined to underrate the strength of our fierce
adversary.
Close by, in a bit of soft ground, Vicente
found .tracks nearly five inches across, indicat-
ing a very large animal. Examining the cow's
body, we found some scratches where the jag-
uar had struck it, and marks of teeth in the
neck; but that was all. At various times I
have seen several animals deer and cattle -
that had been killed by jaguars, and, in every
case, the skin was almost without a scratch.
The creature literally knocks its victim life-
less,- if not with one blow, then with two or
three,- and this with a paw like velvet. There
is an unlawful and cowardly weapon called a
"life-preserver": it consists of a flexible strip
or bar, with a thickly padded leaden ball at
the end. A blow from this dangerous club
will break a bone without bruising the skin. It
is the only parallel I can think of to the muscu-
lar softness of a jaguar's paw.
We knew that our jaguar must be somewhere
in our vicinity; not being very hungry, proba-
bly, it had put off its dinner until night. We
loosed the dogs, and in half a minute they were
all yelping on the trail, we close behind. Al-
most immediately a chorus of barks and snarls
told that the jaguar's retreat had been discov-
ered, not fifty yards away. We hurried up, but
before we could catch a glimpse of the animal
there was a growl and a rush, and the chase
streamed off down a hill and across a ravine in
grand cry.
The woods here were more open, and we kept
so close to the game that once or twice we saw
the dogs, though not the jaguar. Beyond the
ravine came a stiff thicket of bamboo and
bushes; we got through it somehow, our torn
clothes and scratched faces a spectacle, if we
had stopped to think of them. Pell-mell down
a second long hill, the dogs more distant now,
and our hunters perspiring and panting; but
another chorus of barks told us that the jaguar
was brought to bay, and we scrambled up a
rocky glen, quite forgetting that we had already
raced two miles. Augusto, getting ahead,
caught a glimpse of the jaguar's spotted coat,


495





HOW BERT KILLED A JAGUAR.


just as it broke away again; he fired one bar-
rel on the chance of hitting, but without effect.
Now came a long hill, not very sieep, but
the forest so matted that we had to cut our
path,-the chase more and more distant, until
the sounds quite died away. We stopped and
listened, but could hear nothing. This was dis-
couraging and unusual, for a jaguar-chase is
generally short; either the animal escapes at
the first rush, or, if brought to bay, will hold
his place, though a dozen hunters come up.
Augusto said it would be useless to go farther;
probably one or two of the dogs would be
killed, and the rest would return. But none of
us liked to abandon the chase, and it seemed
shabby to desert the dogs as long as there was
a chance of helping them; so we pushed on,
more slowly now, for we began to discover that
we were tired. After five minutes we came to a
stream, where we stopped to drink and to bathe
our faces.
Bert and I were a little above; suddenly he
caught my arm and stood listening, then raced
off to the left, while I ran after him, with the
revolver cocked in my hand. It was a rush of
the whole party now, for the chase was coming
back down the hill, and evidently would cross
the stream above. Bert and I, from our posi-
tion, had a little advantage of the others; he
was a few yards ahead of me. It was quick
work, the pack yelping down one side of a
right angle, and we running up the other. Half
a minute a grand burst of barks and snarls
and all canine pandemonium let loose, and sav-
age growls that sent our pulse up fifty beats;
a spotted, tawny creature, lashing its tail and
glancing fire from its eyes, and snarling, with
teeth and claws displayed. The next instant I
saw one of Vicente's dogs flying through the
bushes, as if hurled from a catapult; another,
and Bert's right barrel rang out and the spotted
coat was somewhere in the air, springing right
at the young hunter. My heart stood still!
I have an indistinct remembrance of rushing
forward with my revolver, but before I had
taken a step, the peal of Bert's left barrel came,
and the jaguar lay kicking convulsively -a
dead jaguar five seconds after. The spring had
fallen short, and our youngster had stepped
aside and put a ball through the creature's


heart. We found that his first bullet had shat-
tered the jaw.
All this passed much more quickly than you
can read it; but the congratulations that fol-
lowed were long enough. We shook hands with
Bert.for several minutes, and again at intervals
until night; and I am sure he deserved all the
praise we could give him. It was not nerve
merely, but coolness that gave him the victory.
To face a jaguar's spring requires courage
enough, but to put a ball in the right place,
half a second after, is something few men would
be capable of. Do you wonder that Bert is
proud of that skin ?
Vicente was the only unhappy member of
the party. His dog was deader, if possible,
than the jaguar, with half a dozen bones
crushed; this was not altogether the result of
the blow from the jaguar's paw, for the dog had
been flung against a tree. Vicente had an un-
lucky way of losing a dog or two at every suc-
cessful hunt; but he had so many that the loss
hardly counted. The other dogs were all
right. It was about ten minutes before they
could be convinced that their enemy was really
defunct, but when their yelps had quieted down
they came in for a due share of praise. Boca-
negra had behaved nobly, showing just the
right combination of courage and caution.
Thereafter he was known as an experienced
jaguar-dog, and properly proud he was of the
title.
We measured the jaguar -an old male -
before taking off the skin: five feet and seven
inches from nose to root of tail; the tail added
would bring the total length to nearly eight
feet. This was a good deal above the average,-
though I have seen skins quite six feet long, not
including the tail. The body weighed, I sup-
pose, not less than three hundred pounds. This
was the variety or species called cangussi by the
hunters of Matto Grosso; on the Amazons it
is the uriaudra, or dog-jaguar. All over South
America three kinds of -jaguars are distin-
guished; naturalists at present regard them as
varieties, but I confess I am inclined to side
with the hunters who laugh at the idea that
these three are the same. The cangussi the
kind Bert had shot--is confined to the higher
lands, never straying over the great swamps of


496


[MAY,






HOW BERT KILLED A JAGUAR.


the Amazons and Paraguay. The ground color is
pale tawny, almost white at times, and is irregu-
larly covered with small black spots, which tend
to run into stripes along the back. Besides hav-






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:./i_,,!-..,, ..x,' .s :r,:,'#.'J..TI


swampy places where that plant grows. This
is the common jaguar of the great river plains,
though also seen occasionally on the highlands.
It has a deep tawny coat, with large black spots
so arranged that they form little circles or





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and t'- iJaguial 'Cupu h 1ic*.i uUt
S. with his paw. That these fish
/ :i1 '.-. follow sound I know, for I have
'' *'' often caught pacris with a palm-
.. nut bait, dropping it gently on the
surface of the water two or three
"THE SPOTTED COAT WAS IN THE AIR, SPRINGING RIGHT AT THE surface of the water two or three
YOUNG HUNTER." times; the fish, attracted by the
ing longer legs and tail, and it is altogether a more noise, soon appear, and even leap after the
slender animal than the onfa pintada, called by the fruit as trout leap to a fly. This is the common
Amazonian Indians youare/te-acd;ra-soro-dca, or method of pacd-fishing on the Paraguay, and
"jaguar of the wild plantain," because it frequents very good sport it is.
VOL. XX.-32.


r-






HOW BERT KILLED A JAGUAR.


The ongas pintadas swim well, as I can attest.
I have seen one swimming across the river
CuyabA, where it is a quarter of a mile broad.
It is said that they cross even the Paraguay and
Amazons.
The third variety or species is the black
"tiger," very rare on the Matto Grosso high-
lands; but common in the Amazonian and Ori-
noco forests. This is the largest and fiercest of
all. At first sight the skin appears quite black;
but on closer inspection still darker spots, simi-
lar to those of the onga pintada, can be dis-
tinguished.
I may add here that the puma our North
American species is also found all over South
America, and in many places is very common.
It is a pest to the cattle-men, from its propensity
for carrying off young calves; but otherwise it
is little feared, and for size and fierceness will
bear no comparison with the jaguars. South
America has also a number of smaller species,
ranging from the spotted jaguartirica, nearly
as large as a puma, down to the little gray and
striped kinds hardly bigger than a domestic
cat.
During our South American travels we heard
of a good many encounters with jaguars, some
of them ending in the death or maiming of the
hunter. I knew of a man who stood over the in-
sensible body of his friend and beat off a jaguar
with his clubbed gun; the friend died that
day, and the man himself never fully recovered
from the wounds he received in his brave at-
tempt to save his companion.
Near our Matto Grosso home there was an
old, half-crazy mulatto, whose left arm was
covered with hideous scars. We were told
that this man found a jaguar killing one of his
cattle; his only weapon was a knife like a large
carving-knife a kind often carried by Brazil-
ians in the wild interior. The man wrapped a
coarse cotton handkerchief about his left hand
and arm, and ran at the jaguar with the knife
in his right hand. Somehow he got his left arm
into the animal's mouth and half down its
throat; then he showered stabs against the ja-
guar's breast, while all the time the creature
was crunching his arm and fighting with its
claws. By some miracle the man did actually
kill the jaguar; but he paid dearly for an en-


counter that only such a half-mad fellow would
have ventured upon.
Before leaving the subject, I want to tell you
the story of another jaguar-skin that is in my
possession. It was taken from an onga pintada
in the great swamp region of the upper Para-
guay. I did not see the jaguar killed; I wish I
had, for if jaguar-chasing with guns is exciting,
the spear-hunting of the Guat6 Indians must
be something superb.
My informant, the one who killed the jaguar,
was a young fellow named Jones; the name he
had from his English father, but he himself was
a Bolivian, and he told me the story in Spanish.
Jones had spent nearly all his life among the
Guat6s,- a fine race of Indians, very friendly
to the whites,- and he had adopted many of
their customs; among others, that of hunting
the jaguar with a spear. He said he considered
it surer and safer than a gun; perhaps it is, but
the coolness and courage required must be
something phenomenal. The spear he showed
me was a stout pole about nine feet long, with
a sharp iron head, like a lance-head, but larger
and stronger. The Guat6 spears are usually
tipped with bone, in aboriginal fashion.
We were camped," he said, "with a party
of Guat6s, by Lake Uberdba; the river was low
then, but beginning to rise, and most of the
open land was still dry. We had passed a
miserable night, because of the heat and mos-
quitos; but I was used to it, and slept after a
fashion. Early in the morning one of the In-
dians came in and reported fresh jaguar-tracks
on the lake-shore close by; I suppose the ani-
mal had come down to drink during the night.
We-that is, half a dozen Indians with myself-
went after the jaguar at once, armed, as usual,
with spears. I had dogs, but did not take them;
they are sometimes useful in bringing the ja-
guar to bay, but beyond that they are of no
use in this kind of hunting,-rather an impedi-
ment. We followed the track for a mile or
more, through high grass, moving very cau-
tiously and with the spears always advanced; at
length we found the animal lying under some
bushes, and luckily where the ground was a lit-
tle more open. I directed the Indians to follow
just behind me, and myself walked up to the
jaguar slowly, keeping the spear-head always






HOW BERT KILLED A JAGUAR.


toward it. The creature just crouched down
and lashed its tail, growling a little, until I was
no more than ten paces distant; then I stopped,
broke a stick from a bush by my side, and
threw it at the jaguar's head. At once I saw
ti rh.tF I ,' r 'lI-d. H -ih' .. .i -lL!I !;. l l t,- l t!- ,.


L-tli l'I:,,cl. "i- l. F._ .rc tn,- 2a',:l hitti- Ili h.-r








tt ak gu .)bL 1 .1EI
than m e n t h. e C .r-i i I i, ..- J rl-





... i ..t, .. '/. "






.hc passe, -. ..i h Th
S' "




I -





The jaguar w
sprang, and, just as
I had expected, came down
with all its weight on the spear,
which passed through its heart. The
Indians ran up to assist me, but it was needless;
the jaguar was quite dead. That is the whole
secret of spear-hunting,-to provoke the jaguar
to spring on you and to receive him on the
point of the spear, taking care that the shaft
rests firmly on the ground behind. If you be-


have coolly, you cannot fail to kill, or at least
to disable, him. The only difficulty is to make
him spring. If he fails to do so, there is no re-




,'


A'I'



.4-


*. 4
,. -'- ... -i, .

I I, ( I i '1" .



-'I



"'I SAW THAT IT WAS GOING TO SPRING.'
source but to attack him with the spear as he
lies, and that is awkward; but I have killed a
number so, too. I used to hunt jaguars with a
gun and dogs, but it is dangerous business; the
only sure weapon is the spear."


JINGLE.


SAID a German professor, old Herr von Klotz, The Leopard reclined in a narrow space:
"I 've heard that the leopard can change his But soon he was crouched in another place,
spots, And then in a third When Herr von Klotz
And so I'm going out to the Zoo, Cried, "Bless my soul! He has changed his
To find out whether or not it 's true." spots! "


499












JvQ~Ym&5

3\~c~699


' ^"'COK^
N -
a ,_ ^, -^- _
P1y ^ ../7


By VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.

I.
THERE is such staring all about,
And such a running up and down;
The Dominie himself goes out,
And we behind him, two and two,-- ,3-
We mind our manners, that we do,' -. .
When Mistress Peggy comes to town! 0'" *




The yellow coach goes rattling by,
With its white horses galloping;
The geese and chickens frightened fly,
Even the Parson's pigeons proud
Go scurrying through the dusty cloud;
The Blacksmith's anvil stops its ring! "WE BEHIND HIM, TWO AND TWO."






WHEN MISTRESS PEGGY COMES TO TOWN.


III.
They draw up just a moment's
space,
For water, at the "Trusty
Three." --.
Once she leaned out,- we saw 'j- -
her face,-
It was so pink and sweet and -
all, ;A-5
Like Granny's roses by the 'i;i
wall! :
She smiled at Cicely and me. iIt '
I -" "4.\8AV '
'l -- .; r,

IV.
Then toots the horn, the whip
goes "crack!"
The dogs all bark the noise to
drown,
And off they dash; the dust
flies back;
The coach is out of sight at ,
last. ----
You 'd think a wind-storm had >--
blown past
When Mistress Peggy comes to
town ,
town "THE BLACKSMITH'S ANVIL STOPS ITS RING.








I I

.,'. N-.-OU. WE/ SA '"
-- -i._.' -- ---


.s .c ;.. ; ., .i




,' "' '
.'.. IS ,




"ONCE SHE LEANED OUT,--\VE SAW HER FACE"











POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.

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


[Begun in the November number.]
CHAPTER XVI.
POLLY LAUNCHES HER SHIPS.
THERE were great doings in the Bird's Nest.
A hundred dainty circulars, printed in black
and scarlet on Irish linen paper, had been sent
to those ladies on Mrs. Bird's calling-list who
had children between the ages of five and
twelve, that being Polly's chosen limit of age.
These notes of invitation read as follows:
"Come, tell us a story! "
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR.
Mrs. Donald Bird requests the pleasure of your com-
pany from 4.30 to 5.30 o'clock on Mondays or Thursdays
from November to March inclusive.
FIRST GROUP: Mondays. Children from 5 to 8 years.
SECOND GROUP: Thursdays. 8 12 "
Each group limited in number to twenty-four.
Miss Pauline Oliver will tell stories suitable to the
ages of the children, adapted to their prevailing interests,
and appropriate to the special months of the year.
These stories will be chosen with the greatest care, and
will embrace representative tales of all classes-narra-
tive, realistic, scientific, imaginative, and historical. They
will be illustrated by songs and blackboard sketches.
Terms for the Series (Twenty Hours), Five Dollars.
R. S. V. P.

Polly felt an absolute sense of suffocation as
she saw Mrs. Bird seal and address the last
square envelop.
"If anybody does come," she said, a little
sadly, "I am afraid it will be only that it is at
your lovely house."
Don't be so foolishly independent, my child.
If I gather the groups, it is only you who will
be able to hold them together. I am your
manager, and it is my duty to make the acces-
sories as perfect as possible. When the scenery
and costumes and stage settings are complete,
you enter and do the real work. I retire, and
the sole responsibility for success or failure rests


upon your shoulders. I should think that would
be enough to satisfy the most energetic young
woman. I had decided on the library as the
scene of action. An open fire is indispensable,
and that room is so large when the center table
is lifted out,- but I am afraid it is hardly
secluded enough, and that people might trouble
you by coming in; so what do you think of the
music-room up-stairs? You will have your
fire, your piano, plenty of space, and a private
entrance for the chicks, who can lay their wraps
in the hall as they pass up. I will take that
large Turkish rug from the red guest-chamber,-
that will make the room look warmer,-and I
have a dozen other charming devices which I
will give you later as surprises."
If I were half as sure of my part as I am of
yours, dear Fairy Godmother, we should have
nothing to fear. I have a general plan mapped
out for the stories, but a great deal of the work
will have to be done from week to week as I
go on. I shall use the same program in the
main for both groups, but I shall simplify every-
thing and illustrate more freely for the little
ones, telling the historical and scientific stories
with much more detail to the older group. This
is what Mr. Bird calls my 'basic idea,' which
will be filled out from week to week according
to inspiration. For November, I shall make
autumn, the harvest, and Thanksgiving the start-
ing-point. I am all ready with my historical
story of The First Thanksgiving,' for I told it
at the Children's Hospital last year, and it went
beautifully.
"I have one doll dressed in Dutch costume,
to show how the little Pilgrim children looked
when they lived in Holland; and another dressed
like a Puritan maiden, to show them the simple
old New England gown. Then I have two
fine pictures of Miles Standish and the Indian
chief Massasoit.






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


"For December and January I shall have
Christmas and winter, and frost. and ice and
snow, with the contrasts of Eastern and Cali-
fornian climates."
I can get the Immigration Bureau to give
you a percentage on that story, Polly," said
Uncle Jack Bird, who had strolled in and taken
a seat. "Just make your facts strong enough,
and you can make a handsome thing out of
that idea."
Don't interrupt us, Jack," said Mrs. Bird;
"and go directly out, if you please. You were
not asked to this party."
"Where was I ?" continued Polly. Oh, yes!
-the contrast between Californian and Eastern
winters; and January will have a moral story
or two, you know,--New Year's resolutions,
and all that. February will be full of sentiment
and patriotism- St. Valentine's Day and Wash-
ington's Birthday- I can hardly wait for that,
there are so many lovely things to do in that
month. March will bring in the first hint of
spring. The Winds will serve for my science
story; and as it chances to be a presidential
year, we will celebrate Inauguration Day, and
have some history, if a good many subscribers
come in."
"Why do you say 'if,' Polly? Multitudes
of names are coming in. I have told you so
from the beginning."
"Very well, then; when a sufficient number
of names are entered, I should like to spend ten
dollars on a very large kindergarten sand-table,
which I can use with the younger group for
illustrations. It is perfectly clean work, and I
have helped Miss Denison and her children to
do the loveliest things with it. She makes ge-
ography lessons-plains, hills, mountains, val-
leys, rivers, and lakes; or the children make a
picture of the story they have just heard. I saw
them do Over the River and through the Wood
to Grandfather's House we go,' 'Washington's
Winter Camp at Valley Forge,' and 'The Mid-
night Ride of Paul Revere.' I have ever so
many songs chosen, and those for November
and December are almost learned without my
notes. I shall have to work very hard to be
ready twice a week! "
"Too hard, I fear," said Mrs. Bird, anxiously.
Oh, no; not a bit too hard! If the children


are only interested, I shall not mind any amount
of trouble. By the way, dear Mrs. Bird, you
won't let the nurses or mothers stand in the
doorways ? You will please see that I am left
quite alone with the children, won't you ?"
"Certainly; no mothers shall be admitted,
if they make you nervous; it is the children's
hour. But after two or three months, when
you have all become acquainted, and the chil-
dren are accustomed to listening attentively, I
almost hope you will allow a few nurses to
come in and sit in the corners-the ones who
bring the youngest children, for example; it
would be such a means of education to them.
There 's another idea for you next year: a
nurses' class in story-telling."
It would be rather nice, would n't it ?-and
I should be older then, and more experienced.
I really think I could do it, if Miss Denison
would help me by talks and instructions. She
will be here next year. Oh, how the little plan
broadens out!"
"And, Polly, you have chosen to pay for
your circulars, and propose to buy your sand-
table. This I agree to, if you insist upon it;
though why I should n't help my godchild, I
cannot quite understand. But knowing you
were so absorbed in other matters that you
would forget the frivolities, I have ventured to
get you some pretty little gowns for the story
hours,' and I want you to accept them for your
-Christmas present. They will serve for all your
'afternoons' and for our little home dinners,
as you will not be going out anywhere this
winter."
"Oh, how kind you are, Mrs. Bird! You
load me with benefits, and how can I ever
repay you?"
"You do not have to repay them to me
necessarily, my child; you can pass them over,
as you will be constantly doing, to all these
groups of children, day after day. I am a sort
of stupid, rich old lady who serves as a source
of supply. My chief brilliancy lies-in devising
original methods for getting, rid ofmiy surplus
in all sorts of odd and delightful ways, left
untried, for the most part, by other people.
I 've been buying up. splendid old trees in
the outskirts of certain New England country
towns,-trees that were in danger of being cut





[MAY,


POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


down for wood. Twenty-five to forty dollars
buys a glorious, tree, and it is safe for ever
and ever to give shade to the tired traveler and
beauty to the landscape. Each of my boys has
his pet odd scheme for helping the world to
' go right.' Donald, for instance, puts stamps on
all the unstamped letters displayed in the Cam-
bridge post-office, and sends them spinning on
their way. He never receives the thanks of the
careless writers, but he takes pleasure in making
things straight. Paul writes me from Phillips
Academy that this year he is sending the nine
Ruggles children (a poor family of our ac-
quaintance) to some sort of entertainment once
every month. Hugh has just met a lovely girl
who has induced him to help her maintain a
boarding establishment for sick and deserted
cats and dogs; and there we are!"
"But I 'm a young, strong girl, and I fear
I'm not so worthy an object of charity as a
tree, an unstamped letter, an infant Ruggles, or
a deserted cat! Still, I know the dresses will
be lovely, and I had quite forgotten that I
must be clothed in purple and fine linen for five
months to come. It would have been one of
my first thoughts last year, I am afraid; but
lately this black dress has shut everything else
from my sight."
It was my thought that you should give up
your black dress just for these occasions, dear,
and wear something more cheerful for-the chil-
dren's sake. The dresses are very simple, but
they will please you, I know. They will be
brought home this evening, and you must slip
them all on and show yourself to us in each."
They would have pleased anybody, even a
princess, Polly thought, as she stood before her
bed that evening patting the four pretty new
waists, and smoothing with childlike delight
the folds of the four pretty skirts. It was such
an odd sensation to have four dresses at a time!
They were of simple and inexpensive mate-
rials, as was appropriate; but Mrs. Bird's exqui-
site taste and feeling for what would suit Polly's
personality made them more attractive than if
they had been rich and elegant.
There was a white China silk, with bodice
and shoulder-knots of, black velvet; a white
Japanese crepe, with little purple lilacs strewed
over its surface, and frills of violet ribbon for


ornament; a Christmas dress of soft, white
camel's hair, with bands of white-fox fur round
the slightly pointed neck and elbow-sleeves;
and, last of all, a Quaker gown of silver-gray
nun's cloth, with a surplice and full undersleeves
of white crepe-lisse.
"I 'm going to be vain, Mrs. Bird!" cried
Polly, with compunction in her voice. I 've
never had a real beautiful, undyed, un-made-
over dress in my whole life, and I shall never
have strength of character to own four at once
without being vain!"
This speech was uttered through the crack of
the library door, outside of which Polly stood
gathering courage to walk ii and be criticized.
"Think of your aspiring nose, Sapphira!"
came from a voice within.
Oh! are you there too, Edgar ? "
Of course I am, and so is Tom Mills. The
news that you are going to 'try on' is all over
the neighborhood! If you have cruelly fixed
the age limit so that we can't possibly get in
to the performances, we are going to attend all
the dress rehearsals. Oh, ye little fishes! what
a seraphic Sapphira! I wish Tony were here! "
She was pretty, there was no doubt about it, as
she turned about like a revolving wax figure in
a show-window, and assumed absurd fashion-
plate attitudes; and pretty chiefly because of
the sparkle, intelligence, sunny temper, and vi-
tality that made her so magnetic.
Nobody could decide which was the loveliest
dress, even when she had appeared in each one
twice. In the lilac and white crepe with a
bunch of dark Parma violets thrust in her
corsage Uncle Jack called her a poem. Edgar
asserted openly that in the Christmas toilet he
should like to have her modeled in wax and
put in a glass case on his table; but Mrs. Bird
and Tom Mills voted for the Quaker gray in
which she made herself inexpressibly demure
by braiding her hair in two discreet braids
down her back.
"The dress rehearsal is over. Good night
all! she said as she took her candle. I will
say handsome is as handsome does' fifty times
before I go to sleep, and perhaps-I only say
perhaps-I may be used to my beautiful clothes
in a week or two so that I shall be my usual
modest self again."


504






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


Good night, Polly," said the boys; "we will
see you to-morrow."
Pauline,' if you please, not Polly.' I
ceased to be Polly this morning when the cir-
culars were posted. I am now Miss Pauline
Oliver, story-teller by profession."


tiful streets and before a very large and elegant
house. This did not surprise me, as I knew
her husband to be a very wealthy man. There
seemed to be various entrances, for the house
stood with its side to the main street; but when
I had at last selected a bell to ring, I became


"MIISS PAULINE OLIVER, STORY-TELLER BY PROFESSION."


CHAPTER XVII.
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. REPORTED IN A
LETTER BY AN EYE-WITNESS.-

"IT was the last Monday in March, and I
had come in from my country home to see if
I could find my old school friend, Margaret
Crosby, who is now Mrs. Donald Bird and
who is spending a few years in California.
"The directory gave me her address, and I
soon found myself on the corner of two beau-


convinced that I had not, after all, gone to the
front door. It was too late to retreat, however,
and very soon the door was opened by a pretty
maid-servant in a white cap and apron.
"'You need n't have rung, 'm; they goes
right in without ringing to-day,' she said
smilingly.
"' Can I see Mrs. Bird? I asked.
"'Well, 'm,' she said hesitatingly, she 's in
Paradise.'
"Lovely Margaret Crosby dead! How sud-


505





POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


den it must have been, I thought, growing pale
with the shock of the surprise; but the pretty
maid, noticing that something had ruffled my
equanimity, went on hastily:
"'Excuse me, 'm. I forgot you might be a
stranger, but all the nurses and mothers always
comes to this door, and we 're all a bit flustered
on account of its bein' Miss Pauline's last "after-
noon," and the mothers call the music room
Paradise," 'm, and Mr. John and the rest of us
have took it up without thinking' very much how
it might sound to strangers.'
"' Oh! I see,' I said mechanically, though
I did n't see in the least; but although the
complicated explanation threw very little light
on general topics, it did have the saving grace
of assuring me that Margaret Bird was living.
"'Could you call her out for a few minutes ?'
I asked. 'I am an old friend, and shall be dis-
appointed not to see her.'
"' I 'm sorry, 'm, but I could n't possibly call
her out; it would be as much as my place is
worth. Her strict orders is that nobody once
inside of Paradise door shall be called out.'
"(That does seem reasonable, I thought to
myself.)
"' But,' she continued, Mrs. Bird told me to
let young Mr. Noble up the stairs so 't he could
peek in the door, and as you 're an old friend I
hev n't no objections to your going up softly
and peekin' in with him, till Miss Pauline's
through,-it won't be long, 'm.'
My curiosity was aroused by this time, and
I came to the conclusion that 'peekin' in the
door' of Paradise with 'young Mr. Noble'
would be better than nothing; so up I went, like
a thief in the night.
The room was at the head of the stairs, and
one of the doors was open, and had a heavy
portiere hanging across it. Behind this was
'young Mr. Noble' 'peekin" most greedily,
together with a middle-aged gentleman not
described by the voluble parlor-maid. They
did n't seem to notice me; they were otherwise
occupied, or perhaps they thought me- one of
the nurses, or mothers. I had heard the sound
of a piano as I crossed the hall, but it was still
now. I crept behind 'young Mr. Noble,' and
took a good peek' into Paradise.
It was a very large room that looked 'as if it


might have been built for a ball-room; at least
there was a wide, cushioned bench running
around three sides of it, close to the wall. On
one side, behind some black-and-gold Japanese
screens, where they could hear and not be seen,
sat a row of silent, capped and aproned nurse-
maids, and bonneted mamas. Mrs. Bird was
among them, lovely and serene as an angel still,
though she has had her troubles. There was a
great fireplace in the room, but it was banked
up with purple and white lilacs. There was a
bowl of the same flowers on the grand piano,
and a clump of bushes sketched in chalk on a
blackboard. Just then a lovely young girl
walked from the piano and took a low chair in
front of the fireplace.
Before her there were grouped ever so many
children, twenty-five or thirty perhaps. The
tots in the front rows were cozy and comfort-
able on piles of cushions, and the seven- or eight-
year-olds in the back row were in seats a little
higher. Each child had a sprig of lilac in its
hand. The young girl wore a soft white dress
with lavender flowers scattered all over it, and
a great bunch of the flowers in her belt.
She was a lovely creature! At least, I be-
lieve she was! I have an indistinct remembrance
that her enemies (if she has any) might call her
hair red; but I could n't stop looking at her
long enough at the time to decide precisely
what color it was. And I believe (now that
several days have passed) that her nose turned
up; but at the moment, whenever I tried to
see just how much it wandered from the Gre-
cian outline, her eyes dazzled me and I never
found out.
As she seated herself in their midst, the chil-
dren turned their faces expectantly toward her,
like flowers toward the sun.
"' You know it's the last Monday, dears,' she
said; 'and we 've had our good-by story.'
"' Tell it again! Sing it again!' came from
two kilted adorers in the back row.
"'Not to-day;' and she shook her head with
a smile. 'You know we always stop within the
hour, and that is the reason we are always
eager to come again; but this little sprig of lilac
that you all hold in your hands has something
to tell; not a long story, just a piece of one for
another good-by. I think when we go home,






POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


if we all press the flowers in heavy books and
open the books sometimes while we are away
from each other this summer, that the sweet
fragrance will come to us again, and the little
faded blossom will tell its own story to each
one of us. And this is the story,' she said, as
she turned her spray of lilac in her fingers.

There was once a little lilac-bush that grew
by a child's window. There was no garden
there, only a tiny bit of ground with a few
green things in it; and because there were no
trees in the crowded streets, the birds perched
on the lilac-bush to sing, and two of them even
built a nest in it once, for want of something
larger.
It had been a very busy lilac-bush all its
life: drinking up moisture from the earth and
making it into sap; adding each year a tiny bit
of wood to its slender trunk; filling out its leaf-
buds; making its leaves larger and larger; and
then-oh, happy, happy time!-hanging its
purple flowers here and there among the
branches.
It always felt glad of its hard work when
Hester came to gather some of its flowers just
before Easter Sunday. For one spray went to
the little table where Hester and her mother
ate together; one to Hester's teacher; one to
the gray-stone church around the corner, and
one to a little lame girl who sat, and sat, quite
still day after day by the window of the next
house.
"But one year-this very last year, children-
the lilac-bush grew tired of being good and
working hard; and the more it thought about
it, the sadder and sorrier and more discouraged
it grew. The winter had been dark and rainy;
the ground was so wet that its roots felt slippery
and uncomfortable; there was some disagree-
able moss growing on its smooth branches; the
sun almost never shone; the birds came but
seldom; and at last the lilac-bush said, I will
give up; I am not going to bud or bloom or do
a single thing for Easter this year! I don't
care if my trunk does n't grow, nor my buds
swell, nor my leaves grow larger! If Hester
wants her room shaded, she can pull the cur-
tain down, and the lame girl can'-do with-
out, it was going to say, but it did n't dare-oh,


it did n't dare to think of the poor little lame
girl without any flowers; so it stopped short
and hung its head.
"Six or eight weeks ago, Hester and her
mother went out one morning to see the lilac-
bush.
"'It does n't look at all as it ought,' said
Hester, shaking her head sadly. 'The buds
are very few, and they are all shrunken. See
how limp and flabby the stems of the leaves
look!'
"' Perhaps it is dead,' said Hester's mother,
'or perhaps it is too old to bloom.'
("'I like that 1' thought the lilac-bush. 'I 'm
not dead and I 'm not dying, though I 'd just
as lief die as to keep on working in this daik,
damp, unpleasant winter, or spring, or whatever
they call it; and as for being past blooming, I
would just like to show her, if it was n't so
much trouble! How old does she think I am,
I wonder? There is n't a thing in this part
of the city that is over ten years old, and I
was n't planted first, by any means!')
"And then Hester said, My darling, darling
lilac-bush! Easter won't be Easter without it;
and lame Jenny leans out of her window every
day as I come from school, and asks, "Is the
lilac budding ?" '
("'Oh, dear!' sighed the little bush. 'I
wish she would n't talk that way; it makes me
so nervous to have Jenny asking questions
about me! It starts my sap circulating, and I
shall grow in spite of me!')
Let us see what we can do to help it,' said
Hester's mother. 'Take your trowel and dig
round the roots first.'
("' Guess they '11 get into a moist and sticky
place, by the way I feel! thought the lilac.)
Then put in some new earth, the richest
you can get, and we '11 snip off all the withered
leaves and dry twigs, and see if it won't take a
new start.'
("' I shall have to, I believe, whether I like
it or not, if they make such a fuss about me!'
thought the lilac-bush. It seems a pity if a
thing can't stop growing and be let alone and
die if it wants to! ')
But though it grumbled a little at first, it
felt so much better after Hester and her mother
had spent the afternoon caring for it, that it


507





POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM.


began to grow a little, just out of gratitude,--
and what do you think happened?

"' George Washington came and chopped it
down with his little hatchet,' said an eager
person in front..
"' The lame girl came to look at it,' sang out
a small chap in the back ro.w.

",No," she answered, with an irrepressible
smile; it was a cherry-tree that George Wash-
ington chopped, Lucy; and I told you, Arthur,
that the poor little lame girl could n't walk a
step. But the sun began to shine-that is
the first thing that happened. Day after day
the sun shone, because everything seems to
help the people and the things that help them-
selves. The rich earth gave everything it had
to give for sap, and the warm air dried up the
ugly moss that spoiled the beauty of its trunk.
Then the lilac-bush was glad again, and it
could hardly grow fast enough because it knew
it would be behind time, at any rate; for of
course it could n't stand still grumbling and
doing nothing for weeks and get its work done
as soon as the other plants. But it made sap
all day long, and the buds' grew into little leaves,
and the little leaves into larger ones, and then
it began to group its flower-buds among the
branches. .By this time it was the week before
Easter, and it fairly sat up nights to work.
Hester knew that it was going to be more
beautiful than it ever was in its life before (that
was because it never tried so hard, though of
course Hester could n't know that), but she
was only afraid that it would n't bloom soon
enough, it was so very late this spring.
"But the very morning before Easter Sun-
day, Hester turned in her sleep and dreamed
that ,a sweet, sweet fragrance was stealing in
at her open.window. A few minutes later she
ran across her room, and lo! every cluster of
buds on the lilac-bush had opened into purple


flowers, and they were waving in the morning
sunshine, as if to say, 'We are ready,. Hester!
We are ready, after all!'
"And one spray was pinned in the teacher's
dress,-it was shabby and black,-and she
was glad of the flower because it reminded her.
of home.
"And one spray stood in a vase on Hester's
dining-table. There was never very much din-
ner in Hester's house, but they did not care
that day, because the lilac was so beautiful.
"One bunch lay on the table in the church,
and one, the loveliest of all, stood in a cup of
water on the lame girl's window-sill; and when
she went to bed that night she moved it to the
table beside her head, and put her thin hand
out to touch it in the dark, and went to sleep
smiling.
"And each of the lilac flowers was glad that
the bush had bloomed."

"The children drew a deep breath. They
smoothed their flower-sprays gently, and one
pale boy held his up to his cheek as if it had
been a living thing.
"'Tell it again,' cried the tomboy.
"'Is it true ?' asked.the boy in kilts.
"' I think it is,' said the girl, gently. 'Of
course, Tommy, the flowers never tell us their,
secrets in words; but I have watched :that
lilac-bush all through the winter and spring,
and these are the very blossoms you are hold-
ing to-day. It seems true, does n't it ?'
"'Yes,' they said thoughtfully..
"'Shall you press yours, Miss Pauline, and
will it tell you a story, too, when you look at
it?' asked one little tot as they all crowded
about her for a good-by kiss.'
"Miss Pauline caught her up in her arms,
and I saw her take the child's apron and wipe
away a tear as she said, 'Yes, dear, it will tell
me a story, too,-a long, sad, sweet, helpful
story!'"


* THE *i [ END *I,


508













COLUMBUS AT LA RABIDA.


BY ENSIGN JOHN M. ELLICOTT, U. S. N.


!'m`2-L, ,~


........
:-V
1 -jl7?&~.Li."
72I7 '


.i -'










THE CONVENT OF LA RABIDA.

NEAR a small town on the coast of Spain, at
the junction of two little rivers, on a high bluff
close to the sea, there stood four hundred years
ago a low, irregular building with plastered
walls, and red-tiled roof surmounted by an
iron cross. It was the convent of La Rdbida,
and on the night of August 2, 1492, there
slept in one of its little upper rooms a stranger,
gaunt and solemn, a guest of the monks. He
was a man who had become known all through

5


l -* :',iiteror Europ_-ur .. i.: : rinl:. Yethis theories
-re -,:, ti:.:in:.ti[ni thi tt. I,,- vvas listened to
with ir]mtre r ev,.:in 1y kin-,. but always dis-
i ;-Ai-s itl, j sri) i,.:- i.:. l.] for his foolish-
l c ne. !1.nd :i I:, .; rr.rr that his route to
i. unto.:,i cjatifr :ir : .i uan :lil-.:,vered country
shiul I.e im':i.: *li Ac last, however,
rii!: !ii I'' I _l rl_-u-, A (0 1'i oese mariner,
;.:l *inne-. .. ,,:hi.,:r ,!' '-Si!:'. i with Isabella
i:.t -'i:ic, -i '-:'I Fe r.:lrnJri of Aragon, and
her woman's imagination had been fired
with enthusiasm, and her woman's heart
filled with a generous desire to aid the bold ex-
plorer in making his search into the terrible west-
ern ocean. Even with the necessary money, the
determined man was driven almost to despair
in his unsuccessful efforts. to induce others to
join in his enterprise; but destiny finally guided
him to the little town of Palos, and there he
found another mariner adventurous like himself,
who was besides a man of wealth and action
and an owner of ships. Thus it happened that
09


r- yr


T' s






COLUMBUS AT LA RABIDA.


by August I, 1492, three little ships were ready
to set sail from Palos upon the dangerous
voyage.
The guest of the monks had passed a restless,
anxious night; and, several times before the first
golden streaks of dawn lighted up the little
square window cut through the thick wall, he
had arisen and climbed to the roof of the con-
vent to look for the favoring breeze which would
waft him westward. At last such a visit brought
him exultant joy, for across the plains of south-
ern Spain, still wreathed in the mists of the morn-
ing, straight from the blue hills outlined against
the golden sunrise there came the favoring east-
erly breeze, all fragrant with the odor of herbs
and blossoms. Then he turned to look down
upon his little fleet anchored in the river at the
foot of the bluff: one of them fairly large, but
the other two tiny craft in which even the bold-
est might hesitate to venture far from land.
The opportunity for which he had prepared
himself since childhood had at last come! What
solemn thoughts must have filled the mind
of that deep-thinking man as he stood on the
roof of La Rlbida in the early daylight, and
gazed from his little fleet out across that great
ocean into which no human being had dared to
lead the way,- which even intelligent men of his
time believed to be filled with strange, fierce
monsters, and to be. frequently visited by most
terrible storms.
There was no time then, however, to harbor
such disturbing thoughts. The time for action
had come, and Columbus descended from the
roof to join the monks, already astir. With
them he went down into the little chapel for a
last solemn communion with God within its
walls. Then the monks escorted him and his
followers to the beach, and he was rowed to the
ships with his head bowed to receive a final
blessing. The sails, upon which were big red
crosses, were spread to the wind, and a breath-
less, wondering crowd watched the ships as
they glided down the river, and slowly away,
until lost to sight below the distant horizon.
Not one in the onlooking crowd expected to
see those little caravels again, and mothers, sis-
ters, and wives wept for the departed ones as if
they had died. In fact, the largest of the three
ships never returned, for she was wrecked one


calm night by drifting upon a coral reef on the
coast of Hayti.
Many months afterward a little caravel, tat-
tered and broken and stained by terrible storms,
sailed into Lisbon, bringing back the intrepid
explorer; and Christopher Columbus marched
in triumph across Spain to stand before Ferdi-
nand and Isabella at Barcelona, no longer a
poor crank from Genoa, but a great discoverer
from a new world!
We all know how another turn of the wheel
of fortune was in store for this strange man, and
how, instead of honors, he was loaded with
chains and brought back from a final trip to his
newly discovered lands to die broken-hearted.
The continents which his genius discovered
were named after an Italian map-maker; and,
when the great discoverer died, people juggled
with his bones until it became uncertain where
they lay. His discovery proved to be of such
magnitude, that he himself was utterly forgotten
while nations vied with one another to explore
the new lands to their utmost limits, and strove
keenly for the possession of the fairer parts.
Columbus had torn away the veil of super-
stition and ignorance which had hidden the
western ocean, and had shown to the aston-
ished nations new lands of dazzling beauty and
fabulous wealth. There had been a moment of
breathless amazement during which the great-
ness of the discoverer was not less than the
magnitude of his discovery. Then he was.
pushed aside and trampled out of sight in the
greedy rush to secure the riches. In his New
World, the first century after his discovery was
a century of plunder, the second a century of
settlement, and the third a century of growth.
Nobody thought of Columbus during three
centuries of selfishness. Then came a great
reaction. At the end of those three centu-
ries, people in the New World were no longer
adventurers. They had been born and brought
up in it; they had cultivated and developed it;
and at last they came together and said, This
land is now ours and we should rule it. To the
centuries of plunder and settlement and growth
was then added a fourth-the century of in-
dependence; and during this fourth century
the absence of plunder and contention gave
time for reflection, and a grateful people looked


[MAY,


5Io






COLUMBUS AT LA RABIDA.


back to see to whom they owed the possession
of their fair land. Back through the three
centuries of selfish strife they looked, until his-
tory brought before them one man whose brain
alone had believed in the existence of their
land, and whose conviction had carried him
ever onward through years of derision and dis-
favor, and in frail craft across terrible unknown
seas until he had proven his conception to be
a glorious truth. Honor at last was bestowed
where honor was due, and during the century
of independence in the New World, Columbus
and Columbia became the names of countries
and cities and rivers; and as the century is
now closing, the Old World vies with the New
in honors to the great explorer.
Could Columbus, therefore, have stood again
on the roof of La Ribida on the morning of
October 12, 1892, at first glance he might al-
most have thought that his sleep of ages had
been the sleep of a single night. He would
have found about him the same familiar gables
of the little convent, the same undulating plains
of southern Spain, the same sluggish, muddy
rivers, Tinto and Odiel; and, riding at anchor in
the former, his own three caravels, the Santa
Maria," "Pinta," and "Nifia"! But as he
glanced up the Odiel toward Huelva, he would
have seen a strange, perplexing sight. Immense
ships, almost grotesque in shape, were rushing
down the river, moving swiftly without sails and
without wind, while from big chimneys poured
volumes of black smoke as if they were on fire
within. On their decks were guns of enormous
size, and from masthead to masthead flew flags
and banners the discoverer had never seen.
Rounding the point, these ships dropped anchor
near the convent, dwarfing his little caravels to
pygmies. Just where he had embarked, bodies
of troops in strange uniforms were landed on a
new pier, and marched toward the convent.
From the ships, countless officers in brilliant uni-


forms landed and formed in two lines the whole
length of the pier. Behind them crowded the
gaping populace (like that other throng of 1492,
on the memorable morning of his departure).
Then from the leading ship came a boat bear-
ing a purple standard; and, when it reached
the steps of the new pier, there stepped ashore,
amid the thundering roar of the heavy cannon,
a sad-faced woman and a fair-haired boy -the
Queen Regent and the little King of Spain.
The officers in line bared their heads and bowed
low as these two passed, while from the press-
ing crowd came cries of "The Queen! The
King!" In a carriage drawn by four fine horses,
these two, with their attendants, were driven be-
tween the lines of soldiers up a broad avenue
toward the convent; and, following them with
his eyes, the great Columbus would have turned
until he beheld rising in rear of the convent a
tall white shaft of marble, capped by a bronze
globe and surmounted by a cross. Then he
would have seen the queen and the little king
enthroned in a purple-curtained pavilion before
this monument, the officers of strange nations
forming an avenue between, the troops drawn
up in radiating lines about it, and the populace
massed in thousands upon the hillsides. And
as the silver-robed bishops knelt in solemn cere-
mony upon the steps of the monument, he
would have seen inscribed thereon in flaming
letters of gold his own name, Christobal Co-
lon," and beneath it two dates 1492-1892.
Then would he have known that those monster
ships which he had seen moving without wind
or sails represented four centuries of maritime
progress, and those strange flags, four centuries
of political changes; while that concourse of
people was the gathering of all Spain, from
royalty to populace, and of all the nations of the
earth, to honor his memory; and that in spite
of chains and disfavor in his lifetime, his great-
ness had survived him four hundred years.




















CHECKS


By TAPPAN ADNEY.


VERY year, as the summer
season approaches, the
salmon of the Atlantic
ocean leave their feeding-
S grounds in the northern
seas and enter the clear, cool rivers of the
extreme eastern United States and the Cana-
dian Provinces. Impelled by a singular instinct,
this noble fish, day after day, week after week,
works its way toward the heads of the streams,
up the swiftest rapids and through the quiet
pools, leaping every obstruction. During the
whole summer this great army pushes onward,
dividing at the forks of a river and breaking up
into still smaller bands where tributaries enter.
Of the great multitude that left the ocean, every
fish has reached the very spot, the very pool
where it was born and lived the first eight
months of its life-except the many that never
passed the cruel nets, and those that jumped at
the beautiful flies which are tied to long silken
lines, or else, dazzled by the gleam of torches,
were pulled into canoes by men with spears.
At length the object of their weary march is
attained, and so the army disbands. The' long
journey has been conducted in a leisurely way,
only a few miles each day, but with wonderful
persistence. Enemies in the water, fishermen
with rods and reels, and poachers with spears
thin their ranks; but those that reach their
homes at the heads of the rivers are protected


by a wise law, which prohibits their capture
from the time when they begin to lay their eggs
until the anchor ice, choking the streams, drives
back to the sea the fish, now lean and hungry
with long fasting; for the salmon is a dainty
feeder in its summer home, touching the most
tempting and alluring flies only occasionally.
Yet, a tiny young salmon, called a "parr,"
having attained the first six or eight inches of
its length in fresh water, returns the following
year a year-old salmon, or grilse," of four
pounds weight.
Along the -banks of nearly every salmon
river, live people who regard the fish in the
waters before their doors not as objects of
sport alone, but as a supply of food. Those
who value the animal or fish itself, without
being particular about the means of getting
it, are contemptuously spoken of by the true
sportsman as "pot-hunters." All these people,
of whom the most are white men, but some are
Indians, are poor; and they believe that fish in
the streams should be free to all. Some, in-
deed, resent any legal interference with the
right they claim to take a salmon at any sea-
son, even on the spawning-beds,-which is
quite wrong; but the more intelligent of them,
while granting the need of some protection, do,
however, feel to be a hardship the law which
allows one set of men to kill a fish in one way
and prevents, or aims to prevent, another set of






A NIGHT WITH THE POACHERS. 513
men from doing the same thing in a different Is the spear too destructive? One club
way. of American gentlemen that fishes in a Cana-
The sportsman uses a fly and worries the fish dian river caught, with the fly, over fourteen
for perhaps several hours, and often is able to thousand pounds in one year, and paid four
buy from the Government the exclusive right to thousand dollars to wardens to prevent poach-


SPEARING SALMON AT NIGHT.
fish, for he is generally wealthy or belongs to a ing. A gentleman belonging to another club,
rich club. The other man is not allowed to as a result of a few weeks' work with the
use his spear, and often is prevented from fish- fly, sent home eighty salmon, fished on Sunday
ing at all. He cannot understand why this in defiance of a club rule, and was the one
should be so, and so he becomes a poacher, man of his club hardest upon the poor poach-
1VOL. XX.-33.






A NIGHT WITH THE POACHERS.


ers who ran the gafitlet of his wardens
and caught a fish or two.
Now, every man there, and every
boy, too, who is big enough to hold
a ten-foot spruce pole with a pair of
wooden jaws tied to one end, is a
poacher,- all but the fish-wardens, who
would be poachers if they were not war-
dens, and who are suspected of slyly
doing a little fishing, unbeknownst";
for, as Charles Kingsley quaintly puts
it, "a gamekeeper is only a poacher
turned inside out."
Now, think of standing in a canoe
twenty-four inches wide, and striking
a fish in nine feet df water as it darts
swiftly past! I have stood in the stern
of such a canoe and seen it done by
a poacher who could n't tell one fly
from another a Jock Scott from a
Silver Doctor. Are the men who fish
with flies more skilful ?
Two men have built a camp on the
bank of the best and most beautiful
pool to be found on a celebrated
salmon river in Canada. Gentlemen
from the city are whipping the deep
black pools with slender rods, out of
canoes propelled by Indians, while war-
dens keep watch at night, many, many
miles below where these men are. But
the water runs swiftly and is rough,
and the rocks have .sharp edges that
cut; so the lazy Indians never take
their passengers to that distant spot,
near the river's source, nor care to risk
their frail birch canoes. Only bears
and moose and greedy trout and great,
glistening salmon live there, and it is
too far away to be guarded by men.
With high hills on both sides, and
a wilderness of black spruce and fir
growing to the water's edge, except
for a fringe of tall grass, lies this pool.
It is as clear as a crystal, and on quiet
SPEAR. days as smooth as a looking-glass -
the only breathing-spot in a little mountain
river, two rods wide, that for the next twenty
miles of its course does not cease to rush, roar,
and tumble. The water above it, noisily splash-


ing over a shallow bar where the pebbles are
like cobblestones, suddenly stops. The bottom
drops away to a depth of a dozen feet, and a
little profession of bubbles and patches of
white foam lingering on the surface close to the
left-hand bank barely shows where the current
is. Then the pool widens, and assumes a broad
triangular shape. The bottom, now covered
with soft, sparkling sand, gradually rises nearer.
and nearer to the surface, until, without a mur-
mur or an effort, the water drips in a broad
expanse over the edge of a sandy bar as if
poured from a large pan. Then moving faster,
it passes around the small grassy islands, joins
into one stream behind them, and hurries on
again, -hoisy after its short rest. Moose and
caribou (which are like reindeer) come down
here at night to drink, and splash the water
with their hoofs, and leave traces in the sand
that men can find by daylight.
It is the month of August. Among the
rough trunks of the spruces, upon a high bank
overlooking the water, the two men have built
their hasty camp. Two forked poles, higher
than one's head, have been driven six feet apart
into the soft, moss-carpeted earth. A long
pole has been laid across the top of these, and
other poles leaned against it. These in turn
are covered with wide, flat, evergreen boughs
for a roof, but the sides of this camp are open.
Small evergreens are also strewn thickly upon
the ground beneath for a bed, and dry logs of
spruce piled high in front, with tall stakes
driven behind them, are blazing merrily, and
making the hut comfortable for the approaching
night. A large supply of dry logs for the fire
during the night lies within easy reach, for
the men have only their coats to put over them,
and the night will be cold, although it is sum-
mer-time. The tea-kettle is boiling over the
blaze, and the fat bacon is sizzling in the frying-
pan upon the red coals.
One of the two in this party is a stranger, a
young man from the city.: :But as he. is there
to learn, and to see for'the first time that
which is about to take place, the reader'is not
concerned with him further than to remember
that he has lately been taught somewhat of
the wonderful things to be seen in the woods,
that he is fairly expert with the paddle, and


[MAY,


514





A NIGHT WITH THE POACHERS.


stands in the stern of the canoe behind the
man with the spear. The other, accustomed to
-the ways of the woods, was. by turns a lumber-
man, a hunter, and a trapper. He had lived his
life on the banks of that same river, was the
father of two as irrepressible young scamps as
ever were chased by fish-wardens, and had in
his own time taken many a fish. Not a man
in that country had there been who was more
at home in a canoe, and quicker or surer of his
aim. But now he is an old man whose head is
turning gray, and whose ruddy, good-natured
face, wherever it is not covered with the bounti-
ful beard, is showing a few wrinkles. He has
turned over to his boys whatever right he may
have had to levy toll upon the finny travelers
on the river highway, and has not speared a
fish for several years.
The early supper eaten, they at once make
preparations for the evening's work. After a
few minutes' search, half a dozen paper-birches
are found, from which large sheets of thick
bark are peeled. These, folded into bundles
about a foot and a half long, five inches wide,
and of half a dozen thicknesses of bark, are
tied in several places with bands of tough bark
stripped from a small cedar. Fifteen or twenty
such bundles are made ready; then the spear.--
it has been made only a few days before and
put into the bottom of the canoe. It is a
stout pole of peeled spruce, two inches in di-
ameter and ten feet long. A slender bar of
iron, sharpened like a chisel or screw-driver,
is set into one end; and projects forward six
inches; and a pair of jaws," each fifteen inches
long and three inches across the blade, whittled
out of tough rock-maple, are lashed with stout
twine upon each side of the iron point. They
spread seven inches apart. These. jaws are
shaped upon the inner side in such a way that
when a salmon is struck they open and slip
around the body of the fish, preventing its es-
cape. Next a stick, five feet long, is cut, and
the larger end split down several inches. This
is set upright in the bow of the canoe, in a hole
made for that purpose. Into the split end,
which is uppermost, a bundle of birch-bark is
thrust, firmly held by the middle. Half a dozen
more bundles are laid in the canoe amidships.
Frequently a canoe built of birch-bark is used,


but this one is the kind known as apirogue. It
is' twenty-four feet long, two feet wide, very
shallow, with upturned bow and stem, and is
carved from a light pine log. It is painted
black, which suits its nightly work.
All being ready, the old man steps aboard
with the spear, and takes his place in the bow.
The torch in front is lighted, and with a crackle
like the frying of grease the flame leaps up-
ward, and with its yellow glare lights up the
bushes, the nearer tree-trunks, and the surface
of the water. Quickly stepping in also, the
stern-man, with a long pole in lieu of paddle,
gives a push or two, and the canoe glides out
on the surface of the pool. But it is too
quickly done, for the pool, shallow there, is
lighted to the very bottom as with the light of
day, and several huge black objects move
away into the deep and somber places. With
a splash the spear is quickly thrust down into
the water after a departing shadow, but it is too
late. Then the canoe is cautiously driven to-
ward the deeper place at the head of the pool,
and as it nears the other end, one, two, six, ten,
twenty great shadowy forms dart, one after the
other, toward the foot of the pool, past them.
The torch has now burned down. Detached
portions of the bark drop into the water and
float off, still burning, while those that fall into
the canoe are trampled out. A new bundle is put
in and set aflame. The canoe is turned about,
and slowly moves back. Down goes the spear,
not with a splash, but with a steady thrust. It
strikes the bottom, but the fish is already sev-
eral feet away, and it is drawn back empty.
Several times this happens. Has the old man
lost his former skill ? Soon he suspects that
the new pole, like a bright streak moving toward
them, frightens them.
A new supply of bark is needed, so they return
to the camp. The spear is held over the fire
until it is blackened from end to end and is no
longer conspicuous. So confident is the old
.hunter of getting a fish, that he makes ready to
eat him at once. He pokes up the fire, throws
on some fresh wood, and sets a kettle of water
to boil. He peels some potatoes, which he has
brought along (perhaps for the very purpose),
and puts them into the water.
Meanwhile the salmon have recovered, doubt-






516 A NIGHT WITH THE POACHERS.
less, from their first scare. So, vith a fresh sup- take away with them. So, next time, the two
ply of torches, they start again,-this time with exchange places. The younger one imita4tes the
more deliberation, for the long black firogue older. He stands in front, and gazes intently
has not entered the length of itself upon the downward, with uplifted pole. One after the
pool, before down goes the spear. Hand over other the great fish dart ahead, shoot past, or
hand it is pushed and, it seems, will never stop. rush. directly into the friendly shadow of the
It reaches the sandy bottom and sticks there. canoe underneath. Now here, now there, goes
It sways as if something is tugging at the end the pole. It fails to reach bottom, and, deceived
of it. Then, as he would lift a load of hay on by the great clearness of the water which brings
a pitchfork, the old man gradually raises the the bottom so near, the novice nearly falls over-
end of the spear. Out comes a black nose, board. Now the spear-points strike the sand,
then there is a flapping and splashing of fins and but not within three feet of even a salmon's
powerful tail, and the first salmon is caught. shadow. It is like wing-shooting, and requires
Quickly the old man draws the fish to the side as much skill.
of the'canoe, lifts it on board, caught and held Then the old man takes the spear. By this
firmly by the stout jaws. It is released, and lies time half the fish hai e left., for the splashing
upon the bottom of the canoe-only a four- of their tails in the rapids above is frequently
pounder. Only a four-pounder, the smallest heard. Several times he misses, but presently
one, of the whole crowd, when plenty of them the pole goes down its whole length., It bends
looked as big as stove-pipes! And there was and sways for a moment, but by a turn of the
one, much bigger than any of the rest, which wrist the fish is pointed upward, and works its
looked fully four feet long. Sometimes, when own way to the top. Then the water is lashed
those big fellows do get caught, the spearman into foam again by the [powerful fish, and it
lets go entirely, and when the fish is exhausted threatens to break away; but itis not until it lies
with the violence of its efforts, it may be easily in the canoe that its size can be determined. It
drawn in. It would be hard. to say which is is another of the smaller ones, and although a
more excited over the capture-the stranger, ten-pound fish, is not the big one we hoped it
who never saw such a thing .done before, or to'be.
the old man, to whom all the entlihusiasm of his Next turn, however (for they wish to make
younger days seems to have returned, another trial before leaving'), as the canoe is
SThe potatoes can almost be smelled at this moving with a scarcely perceptible motion
distance. So the salmon is opened down the toward the foot of the pool, the old man
back, and in a little while it, or the greater por- partly bends over, the better to see and to
tion thereof. is in the kettle with the savory escape the glare of the torch, peers into the
potatoes, which are nearly done, but need. depths below, now to his left, now to his right,
more cooking than a fish. not noticing the sluggish suckers that also were
It is approaching midnight, a slight fog lies moving about on the bottom. Suddenly a great
upon the water, and the night air is unpleas- shadow leaps from out of the darkness ahead
antly cool, chilling the bare hands of the two and shoots straight for the shade of the canoe.
fishermen. So they linger there in the bright Quick as a flash the spear goes out to meet it.
light of the fire, and notwithstanding the excite- The canoe reels with the violence of the move-
ment of the first catch, are loath to leave it. ment. The torch, now burned in two, falls with
But the younger man must try his luck, and a blaze into the water, blinding the eyes. The
besides there must be at least one salmon to. spear falls short a foot, and the big fish is safe!










A MAY MORNING IN VENICE.

BY HELEN GRAY CONE.


OH, for Venice, and opal days
Made of the May-time's rosy haze
And the sheen of the pale-green waterways !

Swerving gondola, swiftly glide!
Bear us back to the garden-side,
Where the dappled canal is cool and wide.

Rich reflections that flow and fleet,
Spread with colors the liquid street
For the tread of the spring wind's viewless feet.


Lo, the garden is flushed anew;
Faintly smiling, the sky looks through
Light young leaves, that laugh to the blue.

Chasing shadows and sunbeams gay
Touch the Cupids of marble gray;
They are old, and cold, and will not play.

Better a wingless boy to be,
Brown and ruddy and full of glee,
Taking his share of the sun and sea!


Oh, for Venice, when 'comes the spring
Gem-like days on the deep to fling,
That gleam and are gone, like the Doge's ring!












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FROM THE PAINTING BY CHARLES GRAHAM. BY PERMISSION OF JOHN A. LOWELL & CO., BOSTON.
Liv-stock ExOibIt Auldn. Rlllay Approach. THE WORLD'S FAIR BUILDINGS, ACCORDING TO THE OFFICIAL MAP PUBLISHED IN i892. Gallcit.eof Fn Art,
cincry flail, 17 1-2 n. B Ac s. 1 linl muile of hanging space.
Admsniitniton Building. nlinoit State BulldinOg. 68 Ais esered For,
Anonbly Hl I.ndI Ann.iX to AgricultIul Building. sosintSi. Trauportation EhSbit, 18 2-3 Are. Hortlieulltul Hull, Vinai s Nof ,ti N tona. WYueu', B .aBuilding. th Hld tigld Buildings of Foreign GoesentUnt.
63 A.re ,ee.S 7,1,Iir91 H A lI of SlOinc nd 0Ulini. n, O3- Acr. O1-3I Amre,.
forli0.-Stock Exlibi. orer Builng, 21-2 Ae. A g,8 3-4 Ac., United State Government Buildln,.
3t4 Ao. IIr rnuf1.tuu Ad1eeml S s. N Eel sx.iDit,











THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.

.BY TUDOR JENKS.


IF there is one date fixed in the minds of
young America, it is that of a voyage accom-
plished by an Italian navigator some four hun-
dred years ago. It may therefore be taken
for granted that any child who can add four
hundred to 1492 understands why, as 1892
approached, America decided to give a great
party and to invite all the world with his wife
and children.
She gave a party seventeen years ago; but
most of the present readers of ST. NICHOLAS
were unavoidably absent. This one they can
understand; and as chief custodians of the
date it celebrates, they have a keen interest
in seeing what preparations their fathers and
mothers are making to entertain their millions
of guests.
They will be glad to know that there is no
intention of falling behind the rest of the world.
There have been other affairs of the sort. The
first to which all nations were truly welcome
was, at the suggestion of Albert the Prince Con-
sort, carried out by England. As one of that
nation's clever sons had lately been construct-
ing an enormous hothouse for the flowers of
a noble duke, he built for this occasion a
great Crystal Palace, one third of a mile long
and four hundred feet wide. Queen Victoria
and twenty-five thousand other people met
here on the first day, and some five million
natives and foreigners called in during the
next five months to see the Koh-i-noor dia-
mond and whatever else British soldiers had
acquired or British workmen had made. A
million dollars over expenses, and the more
valuable lessons learned by English manufac-
turers, made this first exhibition a most profit-
able one. It taught that things might be made
beautiful as well as strong and serviceable.
Several imitations soon followed, one a New
York Crystal Palace in what is now Bryant
Park. But the imitations had little success,


and the New York glass house was burned
down. Paris in 1798 had begun national ex-
hibitions under Napoleon's direction, but their
object was to injure English trade; a gold
medal was offered for that purpose, and foreign
products were shut out. In x855, Paris fol-
lowed London's more hospitable example, and
added besides a collection of the works of liv-
ing artists-the English exhibition being one of
inventions and manufactures. London opened
another show in 1862, also with an art exhibi-
tion; but the death of Prince Albert and the
war in our own country were serious drawbacks
to its success.
There have been four other notable exhibi-
tions. Paris in 1867 added to former features
models of mankind's dwellings, from tents to
palaces; Vienna in 1873 made a great na-
tional museum out of her E\roositiun buildings;
America, for her centennial, put up two hun-
dred great halls, and especially excelled in
showing agricultural products; and Paris held
her centennial in 1889, climbing a thousand
feet into the air in celebration of her republics.
The greatest of these former shows filled
about seventy acres of ground and cost ten mil-
lions. The Chicago Fair will require more
than a hundred and lifty acres for its buildings
alone, and will certainly cost twenty-two mil-
lions- figures quite large enough to fill young
Americans with satisfaction, when they take out
their slates and compute that Paris in iS.m.
Philadelphia in 1876, and Vienna in 1873
would not, combined, equal the Columbian fair
in area.
Four cities competed for the place of host to
the world, and Chicago was chosen by Con-
gress. And that young city will be its own
proudest exhibit. So long as America was colo-
nized territory, it could have little to show in
glory of its discoverer. But .hen, in S76. our
young nation cut her len ding--tring crying to





THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


the world, See I can walk alone !" the glory
of Columbus was begun. The history of Chi-
cago covers hardly more than the period of our
existence as a nation.
Some humorist said, "the first white man to
settle on the site of Chicago was a black man."
His most ingenious paradox refers to an escaped
slave from San Domingo who traded there with
the Indians in 1779; and Cornwallis did not
surrender until 178 1-and he would n't have
yielded then if Washington had not insisted
upon it. In 1803, on the Fourth of July, a
United States sloop came to establish Fort
Dearborn on the Chicago River. The Indians
did not like this, as we learn from the American
Gazetteer" for 1804, under the entry: "[see
Chiago river, Appendix]." The appendix tells
how the government of the United States, "hav-
ing lately determined to erect a fort at Chiago,"
the officer in spite of Indian threats declared
that he was sent to build a fort, and would
"proceed on with the design."
In 1812, the Indians killed most of the gar-
rison while they were trying to escape to Fort
Wayne, but a survivor, John Kinzie, afterward
returned and became the first real settler. The
fort being rebuilt in 1816, a village was begun
near its walls, but the city was not incorporated
until 1837-the very year Queen Victoria came
to the throne.
Now, fifty-six years later, Chicago has
1,400,000 inhabitants, and invites the nations
to ride to the top of buildings twenty stories
high that they may get an idea of the second
great city of the Western world.
What can the great Fair show that is a bet-
ter proof of American pluck, capacity, and
achievement? Nor need we mention the great
fire at all, so entirely have its ravages been
healed.
There is a well-known story of a Westerner
who claimed that his lot was "in the center
of the town, which was in the center of the
county, that was the central county of the
State in the center of the country in the center
of the world!" and, when asked to prove it,
replied, with an eloquent sweep of the arm,
See how nicely the sky fits down all round!"
A claim more modest and better founded may
be made that Chicago is the center of North


American population certainly it is the focus
of routes of travel; and this situation is a strong
reason why it should direct the great Fair.
SOn the anniversary of the discovery, the ex-
hibition was formally dedicated in the largest
-building; and more than a hundred thousand
people felt lonely in the forty-four acres of floor
space. But, in accordance with the act of Con-
gress, the actual opening will take place on the
first of May, 1893-an excellent day to be
called early if you are to be present. The
President of the United States, perhaps with
the electric assistance by cable of King Alfonso,
Spain's boy-king, will set the great engines in
motion by the touching of a knob.
SAnd what will be seen by the lucky--or de-
serving-boys and girls among the millions
upon the grounds? One might reply that
Aladdin's lamp could be left at the door as a
useless bit of baggage. So much will press
upon the attention that the lamp would be
unrubbed and forgotten. But at least it will
be well to have a general idea of where things
are grouped. Look at the general plan. (See
p. 518.)
It shows a great city upon the shores of
Lake Michigan, and surrounding an artificial
waterway called the Lagoon, in which are two
islands. About the Lagoon are the larger build-
ings, and (as Mrs. Richards forcibly said in a
recent ST. NICHOLAS poem) Some of them
are whackers, oh A canal leads southward
past a great basin. These bodies of water con-
vert the Fair grounds into a Venice of pal-
aces-a resemblance that is increased by the
marble-like material.of the buildings. This
material, called "staff," is lighter than wood,
may be colored and molded at pleasure, and is
fire-proof. It is a composition of plaster, ce-
ment, and a fiber, and will last for years if
painted.
North of the main buildings is a park where
the buildings of the States and of foreign na-
tions are grouped about the superb art-galleries.
Southward are the warehouses and live-stock
sheds. Along the shore of Lake Michigan are
docks, harbors, the naval exhibit, the model of
the convent of La RAbida, a life-saving exhibi-
tion, and other amphibious creatures that should
be near the water.


IMAY,


520






THE WORLD S FAIR PALACES.


Keeping this general plan
in mind, the whereabouts of
the great buildings will be
clearly understood, especially
if one refers to the map when
puzzled. How the grounds
will look to visitors who come
from the southwest in a fly-
ing-machine may be seen from
the same picture. Little boys
in such an aerial vessel will
first ask, "What is that big
building in the middle?"
Then their guide will draw a
long breath and answer that
it is the building of Manufac-
tures and Liberal Arts, the
largest building that ever was
in all the world. If they
say, How big is it ?" he will
tell them that it is four times
as large as the Coliseum,
where the Dying Gladiator
lay. It is longer than the
span of the Brooklyn Bridge
from tower to tower, covers
five times the space of City
Hall Park in New York, and
five eighths that of the Boston
Common. It would furnish
room for twenty regulation
foot-ball fields, and would
hold all the people that could
be accommodated in the Ro-
man Coliseum, St. Peter's,
Milan Cathedral, St. Paul's of
Rome, St. Paul's of London,
Notre Dame of Paris, and yet
admit thirty or forty thousand
stragglers. Twenty-eight such
buildings would cover Central
Park. On the other hand,
270,000,000 of these massive
buildings could be placed end
to end between the earth and
the sun, and would fall a
long way short; so there is
no danger of crowding the
universe.
But it is not an ugly giant,


n-n fl-X~o-- .


__ ___~_1






THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING.


as can be seen when viewed critically. What
a roof to fly kites from! It is an unsupported
arch two hundred feet from the floor. The
Bunker Hill monument, placed inside, would
project only a few feet above the roof-hardly
enough to look like a respectable chimney. At
the four corners and middle of each wall grace-
ful pavilions or doorways give variety and im-
pressiveness to the great expanse, which is
further relieved by banners along the roofs.


This building offers a standard by which to
measure its neighbors; yet it does not dwarf
the rest, some of 'which claim distinction for
qualities other than mere size. The Parthenon
is smaller than the Great Pyramid, but there is
no doubt which is the finer structure.
The Agricultural and the Machinery build-
ings, the next in size, stand side by side south-
ward across the Basin from their big brother.
The first is richly adorned with sculptures relat-


[MAY,





THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


ing to agriculture; the second is ranked by
many architects next in magnificence of ap-
pearance to the Administration Building-the
latter being considered the best piece of archi-
tectural design in the whole Fair. The twin
brethren of Agriculture and Machinery are
connected like the Siamese brothers, by an im-
mense roofed gallery facing an extension of the
canal, and connected with each is an annex to
hold whatever may be crowded out.
The railroads will bring their millions to a
station westward of the Administration Build-
ing, and most visitors will first pass through
this superb gateway to the grounds. Because
it opens upon four great avenues, it is in the
form of a cross-a domed center supported
upon four square halls. As the headquarters
of the officials of the Fair, it is as rich in de-


fect harmony with the nearer buildings, and
sculptured groups set upon prominent points
give elegance and distinction to this isolated
structure.
Passing beneath these domes, we come upon
the Court and Basin; and in the latter are seen
two features of the Fair. At its outer end, stand-
ing one hundred feet from the water surface, is
a colossal and majestic statue of "The Repub-
lic"; and, facing it, an antique galley of bronze,
sixty feet in length, is propelled by figures repre-
senting the arts and sciences, while far aloft
Columbia is proudly enthroned. Father Time
is at the tiller, and makes gallant efforts to steer
with his scythe, after which one would not be
surprised to see him take observations through
his hour-glass.
To Transportation, Mining, and Electricity


t


'c-c z.


GREAT CENTRAL PORCH OF AGRICULTURAL BUILDING.


sign and in sculptured ornament as good taste
permits. Its gilded dome, high above all sur-
roundings, will be the conspicuous center of the
whole. This dome is double, and the interior,
lower, dome is higher than that of the Capitol
.at Washington. The corner halls are in per-


are dedicated three great buildings between the
Administration Hall and the Lagoon. Of the
first, the most striking feature is the Golden
Doorway," facing the Lagoon a set of Moor-
ish arches displaying $60,000 worth of gold-
leaf, marked with arabesques, and decorated


523






















INS"





In:







LAw I:1 'r

J,.,


THE GOLDEN DOORWAY, TRANSPORTATION BUILDING.


-V


-.--






THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


by panels of carvings and paintings. These
show the progress from the ancient ox-cart and
war-chariot to the modern ocean steamer and
express train. A Moorish cupola, and arched
windows, give unity to the whole building.
From the cupola, reached by eight elevators, is
an impressive view of the court. Within the
main Transportation Building will be whole bat-
talions of locomotives, and
everything that goes, from
go-cart to electric motors.
The home of Mines and
Mining is a simply de-
signed, impressive hall for
the reception of ores and
mining-tools, machinery
and appliances. Part of
the building material shows
polished marbles that are
themselves an exhibit.
This heavy, solid, and
massive building is in fit-
ting contrast to the neigh- '
boring dwelling of Elec- -.
tricity. The latter, of more
elegant design, is light,
graceful, and varied in
outline. The doorways
are more imposing, and
statues lend their poetic
power to do honor to the .
favorite child of our own
time-a youngster from
whose healthy precocity
we may expect wonders.
While the blaze of arc and
incandescent lights will
banish night from all the
Park, here especially will.
the new light spring from
pole to pole, and be
shown in hitherto unknown
magnificence and profusion glittering from
roofs, towers, and windows, and from fifty-four
lofty masts that will bear banners by day. The
Electricity Building will be rich in colored
ornament grouped within its porticos and es-
pecially in the great recessed doorway.
A statue of Franklin, of heroic size, occupies
the place of honor beneath the dome of the


porch. He is shown grasping the key that un-
locked the thunder-clouds, and the. kite-line,
along which came the first electric message.
Morse and Vail have statues set in places only
less conspicuous.
Directly facing the length of the Lagoon is
that unequaled conservatory known as Horticul-
tural Hall, and between its front and the shore






























T-





PORCH OF ELECTRICITY BUILDING.

will be the floral display. From these flower-
beds we will pause and cull a few blossoms.
A million or so of tulips and pansies, and fifty
thousand rose-bushes, will furnish variety enough
for the most fastidious, and these will be re-
placed by other delicacies in their season until
a grand explosion of chrysanthemums foretells
the autumn closing.


525





THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


The hall itself is, for the most part, a low
conservatory-like building, but it gains dignity
from higher structures at each end, and espe-
cially from an enormous glass or "crystal"
dome, high enough to roof the tallest palms
and bamboos. In this department will be
shown everything relating to growing plants
and their culture; and upon the island in front
the Japanese will construct one of their beauti-
ful temples and artificial gardens, designed not
only as an exhibit, but as a permanent gift to
the city of Chicago.
Here, too, will there be rooms set apart for



A


Whatever is distinctly feminine--reform work,
charity organization, a model kitchen, a kinder-
garten and hospital-here finds fitting place.
Reading-rooms, a library of the works of women
writers, and specimens of woman's handiwork
will be found here, while shady galleries offer to
women visitors grateful protection from the
sunshine of an inland summer. Mrs. Shaw,
the celebrated whistler, is not promised as an
attraction; though many little girls who are
tired of hearing a certain poor rhyme about
"crowing hens might favor her appearing.
The Fisheries Building is of a peculiar shape.


GENERAL VIEW OF FISHERIES PAVILION.


caf6s and restaurants; and the visitor, wearied
by attempting impossible feats of sight-seeing,
may welcome the opportunity to rest and be
refreshed in this domain of orchids, trees, and
flowers. The island, with its border of aquatic
plants and its shady woodland, will bring to the
tired eyes the restful beauties of natural scenery.
The quick gliding of gondolas and electric
launches will be a relief after the bustling
crowds. It is hard to overpraise the wisdom
that remembered Nature is still dominant upon
our great continent, and preserved within the
endless variety of the Fair a space where trees
and sky and lake remind of the outside world.
The Women's Pavilion, designed by a woman
architect, is decorated by a woman sculptor.


Oblong in the middle, at each end it throws out
a gallery leading to a polygonal structure. In
one of these are the aquaria, and visitors may
here gaze from a darker room into well-lighted
tanks, wherein are all the forms of salt-water
animals exhibited as if to a deep-sea diver.
The other wing shows whatever will illustrate
the art of the angler or work of the fisher folk.
In the larger building are the more capacious
tanks, and a central basin and rockwork foun-
tain will contain fresh-water fish. Should the
sea-serpent visit the Fair, room will be found
for him in this middle section.
In decorating these exhibition halls the archi-
tects have artistically adopted the forms of ma-
rine life, and one's attention will no doubt be


526


[MAY,





THE WORLD-S FAIR PALACES.


?il,


WOMEN'S
divided between the curious moldings and the
living models that are eating one another in the
tanks, quite as if they were at home.
Small boys who mean to run away to sea
would do well to pass some time here in pre-
liminary studies. Possibly a view of the sharks
may induce them to delay their departure.
Those who prefer to be backwoodsmen will
do better to go at once (by the circular railway
that will run around the grounds) to the great
Forestry Building. Here they may see all the
kinds of trees there are, in pillars made of
natural tree-trunks that surround the entire
outside verandah. Four enormous sawmills
will sing their soothing melodies under a roof
thatched with natural barks and fibers.
A less interesting exterior--the United
States Government Building will shelter
much that boys will find as interesting as any-
thing in the whole garden of enchantment.
Here are coins, a life-saving station, the origi-


BUILDING.
nal draft of the Declaration of Independence
that caused the whole trouble, the Constitution,
the Liberty Bell, and--well, everything. The
Coast Survey will offer to the geography en-
thusiasts a little map of the United States, built
in plaster, and four hundred feet square,- about
as large as a city block,- all molded to scale,
and showing even the hill back of the old red
schoolhouse, and the place where you caught
the big sunfish. The War Department, or some
other, will fire off cannon of all sizes, and a
hospital near by will show what it means to be
wounded on the field of glory.
Out in the lake in front of the building
the Navy Department has built something
that would be a perfect modern battle-ship
except that it must remain at home to receive
callers. Real, live boys who once cross to
this man-of-war will have to be removed at
nightfall by the marines. By the way, if
there is anything omitted in the outfit of the


70N ART B D ,M-Nm';


FINE ATS BUILDING.
FINE ARTS BUILDING.


527





THE WORLD'S FAIR PALACES.


craft, you may tell these same gentlemen all
about it.
We cannot even barely mention a ten-thou-
sandth of the features each of which some boy
or girl will pick out as "the best thing of all."
We must at least say a few words of the Palace
of Fine Arts, give a hasty list of some of the
Yankee notions, and then leave you to buy large
savings-banks, pick huckleberries, run errands,
chop kindlings, and so on, in order to fill it with
gold and silver pennies by May i.
The Art Galleries fill a superb building that
is unmistakably classic in architecture. Sur-
mounted by a grand dome supporting a winged
statue, the front sends out a beautiful pillared
portico, which is repeated by smaller doorways
of similar design. Around the whole run great
galleries, forty feet wide, presenting surfaces for
molding, sculpture, and mural paintings. Lead-
ing up from the Lagoon are steps and terraces,
upon which a number of square pedestals. sup-
port groups of sculpture.
Standing apart from the other, large build-
ings, the' Palace of Fine Arts need not harmo-
nize with them. It is of impressive simplicity
in its lines, and attains grandeur by a few.com-
manding features. Two wings of not dissimilar
effect emphasize the beauty of the main portion.
In the opinion of many, this building should
be made a permanent memorial of the Fair. It
is the least dependent upon others of all that
have been grouped within the park. Within
are galleries admirably adapted for the safe
preservation and convenient exhibition of me-
morials of the great Fair. Architects agree
that but little labor and expense would be
necessary to convert the whole into a fire-proof,
durable, and beautiful monument to the great
Columbian Exposition.
A Century editorial says of this exhibition:
"Those who have time to see only its general
aspect will have seen the very best of it." A
government report is quoted as saying: "This
exposition stands alone. There is nothing like
it in all history." And to the boys and girls of
America we can say that to see the Fair intel-
ligently, and with time properly apportioned,
will be an education more liberal than can be
acquired in any college in the land.


Now, as a light dessert, let us run over just
a few of the side shows," outside of the classi-
fied exhibits.
Here will be found ancient and modern vil-
lages imitated; a captive balloon; settlements
'of foreign nations; a wheel 250 feet in diameter
for whirling people up into the air on revolving
chairs; a great tower ascended by an electric
spiral railway; a panorama of the Alps; an im-
mense swimming-building, with tank; a great
company of trained animals; an artificial-ice
toboggan slide; Japanese bazars; Bohemian
glass-blowers; an African savage settlement;
a great.glass-factory in operation; a Moorish
palace; a volcano panorama; a roo-miles-an-
hour railway, where the cars are driven by jets
of water and slide on films of water; gondolas
and electric launches plying upon all the water-
ways; an Eskimo' village; 'a steam-engine, in
the power-house, twice as large as the celebrated
Corliss engine, but using oil for fuel; all the
State buildings; a hunter's camp; a complete
Indian village; a dairy; the largest cannon
that the Krupp Works have ever built; a mov-
ing sidewalk, part moving slowly enoughito step
upon, and part carrying the passengers quickly
along. Most of these amusing sights are in a
strip of eighty acres called the "Midway Plais-
ance." And the Children's Building ? Certainly,
you shall hear about that-but at another time.
One great difficulty will be the impossibil-
ity of seeing more than one drop out of the
ocean offered. Remember, if you go, that you
will have to select the few things that you
wish most to see. Then go resolutely and see
them. Never mind the gilt gingerbread: find
out the very jewels that you wish to make your
own. If you love art, see the pictures and
statuary. If you love machinery, go see the
wheels go round.
It will be a good lesson to draw from the
Fair that all its magnificence is the result of an
idea-the idea that the world was round; and
that the man in whose honor the people are
there gathered was for years believed to be a
visionary and a crank.
Which brings us back to the homely wis-
dom of Davy Crockett: Be sure you 're right;
then go ahead."


528










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DRAWN BY MARY RALLOCK FOOTE.

MAY-TIME IN THE COUNTRY.


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THE WHITE CAVE.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


[Begun in the November number.]
CHAPTER XI.
A GREAT WRESTLING-MATCH.
THE six land-pirates had not failed to bring
hooks and lines with them into the woods.
Rods were easily cut among the bushes, and
grubs served for bait. There is sometimes good
fun in fishing, but these fishermen found no fun
in their fishing. They had changed their
camp from the old place by the stump, and
no blackfellows had tried to hinder them.
Now, however, the fish did not bite well; for it
was the wrong time of day, and prospect of food
was poor. Besides, every fisherman felt like
now and then turning his head, as if to see
whether anybody were coming. It was not
long before one of them laid down his rod and
line, and arose, picking up his rifle.
Boys," he said, I don't lay claim to being
a fisherman. There 'd better be one man on
guard. I '11 patrol."
Boys," added another, "he 's right. These
are only small fish. You four go on a-fishin'.
There ought to be two men on guard. It's a
dangerous neighborhood."
He would have thought so, indeed, if he
could have seen a small, black, very bushy
head which was just then pushing through some
underbrush to look at him and his comrades.
Once more the black boy had discovered some-
thing new.
His elders had been after Ka-kak-kia and his
party, while he had been discovering the baro-
net, the ladies, and a whole excursion party,
and now he had found a fishing-party. He
even wasted much time in staring at it, so that
his lame father ere long had almost caught up
with him. He saw a few small fish caught.
He saw the two patrols walk up and down, each
carrying a rifle over his shoulder in a half-mili-
tary way. He was watching one of them when


a sort of shadow flitted by him. It went past,
and it went up, in a whizzing whirl, and then
it came pouncing down. He heard a peculiar
low cry behind him, and he instantly began to
creep away.
As for the patrol, a boomerang had struck
him, and he fell to the earth, while his rifle
went off with a loud report.
The other patrol turned and fired wildly into
the bushes, shouting:
Blackfellows! "
"Bill's killed! exclaimed Jim.
"No, I 'm not," growled the fallen man, as
he sat up and rubbed his shoulder; "but the
lock of my rifle 's broken. That thing hits
hard."
The boomerang itself lay upon the ground,
broken in two. But that the rifle served as a
shield, the man Bill would have been severely
injured; and the whole party had received a
dreadful warning.
"Boys," said Jim, there's bad luck for us
in these 'ere woods. Who 'd have looked for
blackfellows round here? We must get the
nuggets, and then we must clear out of this, or
we'11 all be speared."
No more boomerangs were thrown. The
men were well acquainted with the wild men
of those woods. They knew that a single
boomerang, hurled in silence, with nothing fol-
lowing it, stood for the presence of one lurking
blackfellow, who might have gone off after
others, or who might not be heard of again.
They had been through somewhat similar ex-
periences before, and they had risked such
things when they set out in chase of the man
Beard. It was plain that they had lived lives
of recklessness.
As for the black boy and his lame father,
they were now creeping through the woods to-
gether, as if it took two to carry so much news
and tidings so important.






THE WHITE CAVE.


Helen Gordon stood upon the bank of the
river, and wondered whether to go up or down.
Seems to me I must be below Uncle Fred's
camp," she said to herself; and it's dreadfully
rocky the other way. I 'd have to go out into
the woods and go around, and I might miss
finding the river again. How tired and hungry
I am! Nap is tired, too. What shall I do?"
The words were hardly out of her lips before
there came a kind of answer. She had never
before heard such music!
Yip! Yip! Yip! came the:clear, glad, joyous
melody of one voice.
Yelp! Yelp! Yelp! was the reply of two
other deeper voices. All three of them in
chorus had but one interpretation:
"There she is! There's Helen!"
In another moment the dogs were fawning
about her, and she was trying to pet them all
at once, calling them all the good names she
could think of.
Then they went to the water's edge, lapped
freely, and came back to lie down and pant;
for they had been running long and hard, and
were tired.
"I 'm so glad!" exclaimed Helen. "Now
I know I can find my way back to the camp.
I 'm afraid Aunt Maude and Uncle Fred will
be worried about me." She never suspected
that they, too, were lost.
It was just as well that the bushy cover where
Aunt Maude was at that moment crouching
had but one horse and one woman to hide.
Two horses might have neighed to each other,
or two women might have uttered exclamations.
As it was, Lady Parry watched in silence a
very lame blackfellow and a very active, urgent
black boy who was hurrying him forward.
The man carried a shield, boomerangs, and
sticks, but the boy had only one poor; crooked
stick, of no account.
She trembled, but even her horse nipped the
grass in silence, and the black news-carriers
were too much absorbed in their errand to
notice her.
"They 're gone!" she murmured at last
"But what am I to do? And where is my
son ?"
She rose and stood erect in a slight opening
between two luxuriant bushes. She had deemed


herself safe, for the lame blackfellow and his
son had been gone for several minutes. Her
intense feeling had obtained the mastery and
she had spoken aloud, and as she rose she
saw before her, not- fifty yards away, one of
the most awful figures that could be ima-
gined. Tall, black, ferocious, terrific without
any addition to his natural features, but now
hideous with all the white skeleton-marks of
his corroboree paint, a black warrior stood in
an open space, balancing a long spear with his
throw-stick, preparing for a deadly cast.
How that slender, serpent-like spear quivered
as the savage poised it apd shouted his exultant
war-cry! How the, harsh, discordant sound
did grate and thrill upon her ears. But it was
instantly followed .by the most welcome sound
in all the world.
Mother was the call she heard from the
thicket near by, and then came the double re-
port of a gun, one barrel following the other
quickly.
The spear dropped, and a long, dark form
lay prone upon the grass; but neither Lady
Maude nor Hugh saw it fall, or, for one long
moment, thought of it.
"Mother!"
"Hugh!"
"Hide, Mother Hide! Quick! There are
more of them"
"I know there are, Hugh! I 've seen some
of them. Get down!"
Down they crept behind the bushes, and
rapid whispers, back and forth, told all the
story that each had to tell.
Lady Maude had found Hugh, and it seemed
to her that her troubles were nearly over.
Hugh had found his mother, and it did not at
once occur to him to doubt his ability to con-
duct her directly to his father's camp. The
meeting was so unexpected that for some min-
utes neither thought of the black corroboree
dancer.
He 's gone, Hugh," said his mother; "but
I 'm afraid there are others."
"I don't know, Mother," said Hugh. "I
had to shoot quickly, or that savage would have
killed you. I must put in fresh cartridges."
Lady Maude had little idea of the situation
except that she felt safer. As for the cave and





THE WHITE CAVE.


the other strange things Hugh had described,
he might almost as well have repeated a page
out of Robinson Crusoe." It .all sounded
like so much fiction.
The report of a gun can be heard only a short
distance through dense foliage. If those woods
had been bare and desolate, as in wintry July
weather, the report of Hugh's gun might have
been heard by other ears; but as it was, it gave
no warning.

The six land-pirates had fried and eaten some
small fish. They believed themselves in dan-


"They '11 have a good time doing it now,"
he said, as he crept away. "Take it all in all,
this is getting to be about the most tangled-up
situation I ever saw. I wish the black and
white savages would eat each other up, like the
Kilkenny cats. My life is n't worth much, but I
must see that those boys don't get hurt. No
matter what becomes of me, I must save the
others! "
He was on his feet now, and was walking
rapidly homeward.
Who 's that? "
He stood still as he uttered this exclamation,


" THEN CAME THE REPORT OF A GUN.


ger only from blackfellows, but they were not
entirely correct. When the wounded blackfel-
low's boomerang fell upon Bill's rifle-lock and
knocked him down, there was a low excla-
mation from a man concealed in a tuft of
weeds on the crest of a ledge below the camp.
Ugh!" he said. "That was well thrown.
I hope it spoiled his rifle. They '11 have trouble
enough now. I can go back to the cave and
look after those boys."
He must have been listening and getting
information, for he seemed to know that his
enemies had lost their provisions, but were still
determined to follow and plunder him.


but he did not raise his rifle. He was looking
forward, and he seemed under sudden and
great excitement.
Right before him, at a little distance, under
a tree stood a very fine horse, cropping the
grass. Against the shoulder and saddle of that
horse leaned a large, well-dressed man with his
head bowed upon his folded arms.
"Look out! shouted Beard, and he sprang
forward.
There had been another man very near. He
had a club in one hand, and he was stepping
lightly, stealthily forward. He was bony, mus-
cular, and as black as ink. His face gleamed


[MAY,


532






THE WHITE CAVE.


with savage triumph until he heard the fierce,
angry shout with which Beard bounded upon
him.
"Ka-kak-kia!" yelled the savage in defi-
ance, and Beard himself just then shouted the
same name. But it was too much for savage
temper to be interrupted"in that way, and Ka-
kak-kia struck at Beard with the waddy he
had been about to throw at the man by the
horse.
The blow was parried skilfully, but it was not
returned; and Beard let fall the rifle he had
parried with, and gripped Ka-kak-kia by the
arms. The man by the horse had raised his
head, as if he were waking from a dream.
Now he had turned and was staring at them as
if stunned.
Ka-kak-kia hardly ceased for an instant to
pour forth angry words, and he was answered
as angrily by the cave-man. Meanwhile there
was a wrestling-match of a very desperate sort,
and an ordinary white man might have had the
worst of it.
"What am I about? suddenly exclaimed
the man by the horse. "Don't give in! I '11
knock down that blackfellow "
"No, Sir Frederick," gasped Beard. "Don't
strike him. He's a friend-of mine. I must
throw him without help or he 'd lose his
respect for me! "
Humph! exclaimed Sir Frederick. But
what if he throws yok i "
"He can't," said Beard. "But-if he does-
you must disable him at once! There,- he 's
yielding,- there! "
It was a terrible grapple, but Ka-kak-kia
had met his master.
Strain, tug, struggle as he would, the steady,
resistless strength of Beard bent him over,
threw him upon the grass, aid then held him
quiet and harmless, while he glaredfuriously at
the victor.
"I must hold him until he gives up, Sir
Frederick. Hand me that waddy."
The baronet obeyed as if he had been com-
manded by a superior officer; but he could
only guess at the meaning of the native words
which followed between Beard and the savage.
He has promised to be quiet," said Beard
at last, releasing him.


Ka-kak-kia arose somewhat sullenly.
"I told him," continued Beard, "that the
woods were- full of his tribe's enemies, that he
and his people might all be speared, and that
they were foolish to try to fight white fellows
at the same time."
"Will he keep his promise?" asked Sir Fred-
erick. Is there any good in him?'"
"Not a particle," said Beard. He has a
queer idea that he can't kill me, that 's all.
You know very well that they never keep a
promise. Just now he is cowed, and he will
be quiet for fear of your rifle and mine."
"Will you let him go?" asked Sir Frederick,
doubtfully. "Is it safe? "
Of course it is n't safe," replied Beard; "but,
then, what is a fellow to do ? They are- men,
after all, and I don't like the idea of needlessly
killing them."
The baronet expressed his agreement with
this sentiment, and then asked, But who are
you ?"
"You may call me Beard. How did you
happen to be away off here, alone? said- the
cave-man, adding, as he turned to the savage:
"Ka-kak-kia, go! -He added some words in
the native tongue, and the wild man took his
waddy and sprang away.
The answer made by Sir Frederick was given
steadily, but in a voice full of suppressed pain.
He told about his camp, and his missing party,
and the lost boys, the cause of his losing him-
self that day. Beard listened, now and then
nodding his head, and at last remarked:
"You are not lost, Sir Frederick. I could
guide you to your camp by a bee-line if it were
safe. But we must get there as cautiously as
we can manage it. Ned and Hugh are all
right. They are at my house."
Good! said the excited baronet. My
son and his friend at your house? Now, if I
knew where to find my wife and niece! "
"We shall find them," said Beard. "The
worst of it is that there are two parties of black-
fellows prowling around, and one lot of out-
and-out bushrangers. We must move at once,
or we may be speared where we stand."
I '11 lead my horse. He is about used up,"
said Sir Frederick. I owe you my life, Beard--
and the boys' lives-"





THE WHITE CAVE.


"Never mind that," interrupted Beard, some-
what grimly. "We will hide your saddle and
bridle in a safe place, and we will leave your
horse where we can find him. I think it won't
be safe, just now, to go into my house by the
front door' We can get in by the side door,
though, I 'm pretty sure, and I can give you
something to eat and drink."
"Is Hugh there? asked the baronet.
"I left him there with Ned," replied Beard.
" If they have gone out, they will soon get
back again. We were intending to go to your
camp to-night, if the way should be clear."
But my wife and my niece. Do you know
anything of them? "
"They may be at the camp, for. all you
know," said Beard; "or we may meet them on
the way. You were lost not far from one an-
other. Come, we must hurry "

CHAPTER XII.
THE OTHER DOOR OF THE CAVE.
WHEN Ned Wentworth parted from Hugh
Parry under the great tree at the front door of
Beard's house, he set out with a purpose of his
own.
"If I understood that man," he remarked
aloud, "after the river leaves the waterfall it
goes around the mountain, or through a cleft
in it. If that 's so, I can find it again. If I do
find it, Hugh and I could make our own way
home along the bank, whether Beard comes
with us or not. He does n't wish to come, or
to meet anybody. I can see that."
On he went, therefore, choosing ground
that was not too rough and broken to travel
over, but keeping as near as he could to the
mountain.
I '11 find the river," he said again, "unless
the blackfellows find me."
He forgot that time was passing,. and that
the day could not last much longer. The sun
was sinking steadily, and he was getting tired.
The forest was giving place to a short, stubby
growth upon sandy soil.
I can find my way back around the moun-
tain," he said at last; "but I wish I could get
to the river for a good drink of water. How
long that shadow is!"


He noticed the length of it because it was the
shadow of a great rock that stood some distance
away.
"As late as that ?" he exclaimed. "Then I
can't get back to the cave to-night. I must
push along and find the river. It can't hurt
me to spend a night in the woods. I can light
a fire to keep off dingos. It will worry. Hugh
if I don't come, though."

Hugh was not thinking of Ned just then, but
he and his mother were also thinking of the
nearness of sunset, for it was getting shadowy
in the dense forest.
"Mother," said Hugh, "I wish I could get
some water for you. We must go toward
Beard's cave. I can find the way. We 're as
safe in one spot as in another."
"I 'd like to get away from this, Hugh," she
said; "though I feel much safer, now you are
with me."
They went forward slowly and cautiously,
Hugh leading the horse. The woods grew more
and more dim and shadowy.
The six men by the waterfall had gone out,
three at a time, and had looked in several
directions for traces of the nugget-owner whom
they had come there to find; but they had
gathered again, to tell one another they were
sure of being nearer to him, and that they
believed they would have better luck on the
morrow.
SIf Ka-kak-kia's band of blackfellows were
not tired, they must have been made of iron,
for they had scouted all day long. They had
managed with such cleverness that they had
not seen, or been seen by, any of their black
enemies. The same thing was true of these,
for the lame man and his brilliant son made
their report concerning white fellows only, and
no others were more than suspected of being
close at hand.
Ka-kak-kia's followers had a surprise all their
own, when they gathered to hear their chief's
report of his meeting with his mysterious
"friend," whom they all knew, and who. had
thrown him down and kept -him fromi killing a.
perfect prize of a big white fellow standing
beside a horse. They all agreed with Ka-kak-
kia that both of those white fellows were to be


534


[MAY,





THE WHITE CAVE.


again attacked as soon as there was a chance.
They also all agreed that it was not a good night
for going to sleep. The time could much better
be expended in watching for any camp-fire that
might be kindled by reckless white fellows.
Their black enemies were of the same
opinion, and it was strengthened a little before
sunset. One of their number was missing, and
they had sent up all manner of sounds to tell
him where they were. The black boy, also,
had been sent back along his own trail, to hoot
like an owl and call the wanderer. He went
and he hooted. He even made blunders, utter-
ing animal cries that never sounded in the
"bush" at night, and that roused the suspi-
cions of Ka-kak-kia's party. His hooting was
all in vain, and he hunted on until he almost
stumbled over something which made him drop
flat and listen. He lay still for a minute, but
nobody seemed to be. near him. He lifted
his head and put out his hand. There was
no doubt but that the warrior he had stum-
bled over had been killed by the bullets of
some white fellow. 'The black boy knew his
duty. He took every stick belonging to the
slain man. Luckily, he had been an uncom-
monly well-supplied person. 'His shield was
very good; his waddy-club and stone toma-
hawk were works of art; his three boome-
rangs had been made in the best manner.
So had both of the two long spears, and the
throw-stick, and a climber. He had been a
rich man; and when the black boy set out to
carry back his latest piece of news, he was
armed like a chief. It made him walk proudly,
and he kept his eyes busy, in a half hope of
seeing something or somebody to throw at,-he
had so very much all ready to throw. He knew
about the fight the day before with Ka-kak-kia
and his followers, and he was not at all sure
that he might not fall in with some of them on
his way to rejoin his own people. He felt that
he was having a set of remarkable adventures,
and that he was in an unsafe piece of country.
Others also felt unsafe, and the men at Sir
Frederick Parry's camp decided to sleep only
two at a time. They mourned the absence of
watchful Yip more than they did that of the
other dogs, and they mentioned him more fre-
quently than even the baronet.


As for Sir Frederick and his new acquain-
tance, they were getting better and better
acquainted as they went along. It was easier
for Beard to avoid telling much about himself
because Sir Frederick had so many other things
upon his mind.
They scouted carefully through the woods,
with their rifles held ready for sudden use, but
they did not meet anybody, black or white,
before they came to the edge of a broken,
rocky slope, where Beard remarked:
"We must leave your horse here. We can
find him when we come out."
We will picket him," said the baronet.
That was' done with a long piece of bark
rope, and then Beard said:
"Now for some dinner!"
"Dinner," replied Sir Frederick. "I 'd give
more for some water, just now, than for any-
thing else. How far are we from the river?"
It runs around this mountain on the other
side," said Beard. "I can bring that horse
enough water to keep him alive; but first I
must care for you."
They were walking rapidly up the slope, and
now right before them was a mass of broken
crags that looked like a good hiding-place.
"Hullo!" exclaimed the baronet, "is this
your house ?"
It used to be," said Beard; "but it is n't
safe enough now. The blackfellows found it
out, and I 'm afraid they told other people
where it was. I had to give it up."
It looked as if the entrance of a gap among
the crags had been rudely roofed over with
branches and bark, making a shelter from the
weather; but there were no signs of any door.
Beard led the way in, and right through, for
the gap continued beyond the roofed place.
Sir Frederick followed him silently, even after
the gap grew dim and began to look anything
but safe.
Sir Frederick," said Beard, "have you any
matches ? I must light a torch."
A box of wax-lights was held out to him, and
a long pine-knot which Beard had picked up
was set on fire before he again led the way.
They were in a crooked crack between two
vast masses of limestone that met overhead.
There was, however, no difficulty at all in fol-


l893.]






THE WHITE CAVE.


lowing it, until they came to a point where
Beard paused and exclaimed:
Now, I 'm glad you are a man of firm
nerves and good muscles!"
What 's that sound ? asked the baronet.
"Nothing but water," said Beard. "I '11
give you some of it quickly. Hold the torch
while I go down."
Sir Frederick took the flaring torch, and held
it far out, to see what Beard was doing.
"Here is a rope-ladder," said Beard; "it's
strong enough, but it's a little clumsy, and you
must hold tight. I 'm all right. There,-
hand me the torch."
Down he went like a man who knew the
way, and Sir Frederick's good nerves did not
prevent him from shuddering when he saw
how long that swinging ladder was. The torch
stopped going down, and Beard shouted:
Get a good hold to start with! Come on!
It won't break."
Sir Frederick Parry was a brave man, and
he was very thirsty. Thus far he had suffered
no harm, although his clothes were somewhat
dusty, and he had every reason for trusting
the man who had saved his life. Still he felt
uneasy when he gripped that ladder of bark
rope and began to scramble down into the
unknown gloom and darkness all around that
side door of Beard's house.
"There!" he exclaimed as soon as his feet
reached solid rock. It 's a very remarkable
place. Is it much further ?"
"Why, no," said Beard, lifting the torch.
"Here we are only a hundred feet or so from
the passage that leads to my 'front door.' I
did n't have a chance to let the boys know
about this entrance, but I told them it was
here. We might have come in the other way,
ourselves; but it seemed to me that this was
safer, after we met Ka-kak-kia."
Sir Frederick followed Beard out through a
broken group of stalactites and stalagmites, and
then Beard said:
"There 's the fireplace, and the fire is still
smoldering. The boys have gone out to scout
around. I half expected that they would, but
I cautioned them not to go too far. See, Sir
Frederick, here 's the place where they must
have cooked their dinner."


Why, they may not get back to-night. They
may lose their way again," exclaimed the
baronet.
"I don't think so," replied Beard, as he
heaped more wood on the fire. "I gave them
careful instructions. I '11 go for water. What
do you think of my house ? "
"It is indeed a wonderful place," replied
Sir Frederick, warmly.
Beard went away with his torch in one hand
and his tin kettle in the other, and the baronet
continued: "I have heard there were a great
many caves in this geologii.il formation. It is
really not at all remarkable. The wonder of it
is that I am here, and that Hugh and Ned
have been here. Oh, how thirsty I am! "
That difficulty was removed as soon as the
tin kettle came back from its dip into the
chasm, and then Beard said:
"There 's all the meat you need to broil.
Go ahead. Cook and eat as comfortably as
you please, but I must not waste any time
here. I must know what 's going on in the
woods. Besides, I think I can get you some
coffee for breakfast."
"All right," said the baronet. I can broil
my own dinner. I hope the boys will return
while you 're gone."
Likely as not they may," said Beard. I
shall not be gone long"; and before anything
else could be said; he had vanished.
I declare," remarked Sir Frederick to him-
self, he has gone, and he forgot to tell me how
I 'm to get out of this place. I 'm corked up
like a fly in a bottle. What if he should not
come back? I 'm in a very remarkable situa-
tion. Still, I must eat something, and I '11
wait for Hugh or for my red-bearded friend,
whoever he may be. He 's a great puzzle to
me. That was a grand wrestling-match between
him and the blackfellow! He must be made
of steel and whiplBcord "
So the baronet sat by the fire, broiled kan-
garoo meat, and made an excellent meal.

Poor Helen Gordon, tired and hungry, there
by the river-bank, could not make up her mind
to lie down as the darkness came on.
I dare not sleep," she said; "but I can sit
down'and lean my back against a tree."


536


[MAY,






THE WHITE CAVE.


.She did so, and the deerhounds came and
stretched themselves upon the ground beside
her, and Yip put his head into her lap and
whined, and then whirled and sat alertly in
front, looking keenly out into the darkness, as if
to say: I shall sit up and keep watch."
She was, at all events, better guarded than


were Hugh and his mother, now picking their
slow way, with greater and greater difficulty,
along through the deepening darkness. That is,
it was very dark except in open glades where
the moonlight poured in; and yet they were
almost afraid of such helps, because in those
places other eyes might see them.


(To be continued.)


SHORT AND SWEET.

BY ABBIE FAREWELL BROWN.

"LEU-CAN-THE-MUM VUL-GA-RE"-oh, you
have a long name, too,
You poor, dear little daisy; I can sympathize
with you.
Does not your head feel heavy with that
dreadful name to hold,
And don't you feel, Leucanthemum Vulgare,
very old ?
I do, dear, when I 'member, though they
i -' think my name is "sweet,"
i i And love to say it over,-" Gladys Con-
i stance Marguerite."

And then, when you 've been naughty, does
your daisy-mama say
"Leucanthemum Vulgare t" in such a stem,
sad way?
B My mama does; -oh, daisy dear, how many
times she 's said,
Now, Gladys Constance Marguerite, go right
S i ..' up-stairs to bed!"
And then I know I 'm very bad, for that 's
my punish name;
Oh, daisy dear, do you suppose all mamas
do the same?

But I love best to call you, dear, just Daisy"; for you see
That 's my pet name, the very same that every one calls me;
And we are twins now,-are we not?-for both of us have woes,.
About our long, long "punish names," that no one ever knows.
They may be grand," and dignified," and sweet," and all the rest,
But we both love, dear,-don't we ? -our short Daisy names the best.











THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.

BY G. R. O'REILLY.


THE SNAKE-CHARMERS. FROM THE PAINTING BY FORTUNY, OWNED BY W. T. WALTER, ESQ., BALTIMORE, MD.


I HAVE always found people interested in
snake-charming and snake fascination. It is
very amusing and very ridiculous to one who
has been "behind the scenes," to listen to the
explanations given of the charmer's art. Now-
adays we do not hear witchcraft given as the
explanation, for the day of magic is passed; but
even to-day people are led into absurdities quite
as nonsensical as those credited in the ages
of witches and fairies.
While some people think that snake-charm-
ing is performed by drugging the animals, the
general opinion is that the charmer's power is
due to the influence of animal magnetism," to
the power of the human eye, to will-power, to
hypnotism or to something equally mysterious
and beyond the reach of common men.
However silly these theories may be when
applied to human beings, they are more ab-
surd when applied to animals, and especially
to snakes. It is true that sometimes the eye
of a determined man will awe an enraged ani-
mal that has some knowledge of man's power.
But so will the eye of a tiger affect a man.
Any other eye that has power of evil behind it
will have the same effect. The eye is but the


reminder that tells us the owner of it lives. If
the life or energy behind it be terrible in its
power, the eye, its index, is to be feared. But
if the life indicated is weak or gentle, then the
power of the eye avails nothing toward control.
Now, the snakes used by the charmer are not
drugged, as some think, nor are they in the
least affected by "magnetism," or hypnotic
power. They feel not at all the influence of
the eye. Generally they do not even see it.
The owner of it they see as a whole when he
moves; but if he remains quiet they will proba-
bly never notice him. For the eye of a snake
is very quick to detect motion, but very dull as
to form and color. It will not distinguish be-
tween a man sitting motionless and a tree-stump,
or know the difference between a frog and a
stone until the animal jumps. All the mistakes
that people make in regard to these animals
arise from a false idea of their ways. And all
the power of the snake-charmer, be it great or
little, comes from his intimate acquaintance with
their likes and dislikes, together with a know-
ledge of other people's ideas about snakes.
The sharper deceives the simple country-folk
because he understands their ways of thought;






THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


so does the snake-charmer delude the people
who come to see him. He knows that they
believe in hypnotism and the power of his eye,
consequently he makes mysterious passes with
his hands, and gazes with all his might on the
reptiles he uses. Then the people go away
and say it was all in the power of his eye."
They inquire," Did you see how he kept his
eye on them ? If he did, it was only his play-
ing to popular'prejudice; for he knows what the
spectators think and he humors them, but his
earnest gaze has no effect whatever on the
snakes.
The account of snake-charming which I here
give is not founded on any supposition, but on
actual knowledge of hard facts. It is not an1
attemptto account for things which I have seen
without understanding; it is a simple telling of
what I myself can do, and have done many a
time, explaining all afterward according to
simple laws of nature and human reason com-
bined. In short, I shall try to give a plain
scientific explanation of snake-charming.
For years I have lived among snakes. I
have hunted them and caught them in twenty
different countries, and I have made their ways
and habits the study of my life. Through a
field-glass, from safe retreats behind rocks or
bushes, I have watched all their doings in the
wild and secret places where they live. Not
satisfied with that, I have brought them home
to live with me in my study. Very interesting
it is, too, to observe their ways of life; their
behavior when hungry and thirsty; to see them
asleep and awake; quiet or on the move; in
rest or in anger; walking, running, swimming,
or climbing.
Few men knew more of India than the late
Sir Bartle Frere, and he once assured me that
I did all that the Indian charmers do, and
many things they do not attempt.
In this country, we never see snake-charming
in its perfection; nor, indeed, outside of India
and North Africa, are perfect snake-charmers
to be found. Here, they simply handle the
snakes; and the only wonder about the per-
formance is why snakes that will bite any one
else do not bite the snake-charmer. The an-
swer is, because he knows how to handle them.
He does n't hurt them and he does n't frighten


them, and, as a rule, a snake bites only when he
is either hurt or frightened. The snake-charmer
knows the treatment that will neither hurt nor
frighten, and accordingly he acts with safety.
This is the first secret of snake-charming, and
usually the last also, as we see it practised in
the cheap shows. This should not be called
snake-charming-it is only snake-handling.
Let us consider some performances of a
higher class, as exhibited at the court of Mo-
rocco, or before the princes of India.
First: The charmer discovers by "magic"
means the presence of a snake in a specified
distant place where he himself has never been;
and then, with witnesses, and in their presence,
he goes to the place and finds the snake.
Second: He causes a snake, never before
seen by him, to follow him, turning when he
turns, and nestling at his feet when he stops.
Third: The charmer by simply holding up
his hand makes a moving snake stop instantly,
and remain perfectly motionless.
Fourth: By motions of the hand, with or
without music, he makes a cobra stand up
perpendicularly from the ground, and dance
about, coiled on the tail.
Fifth: By striking him with an ordinary lead-
pencil he makes the same dancing cobra sud-
denly sham death, turning over on his back
and becoming as rigid as a stick. Then, by a
simple movement, he instantly restores him to
activity, and again sets him to dancing.
Sixth: He calms an enraged boa-constrictor,
hissing fiercely and biting at everything in his
reach, and makes him quietly enter a sack.
Seventh: The charmer covers himself with
snakes which will not molest him, but will bite
viciously at any one who approaches him.
Eighth: He places an enraged snake on a
table, and shows that while the snake will bite
at any one who goes near him, even at the
charmer himself, yet when the latter takes him
up with his right hand the snake will not attack
that hand, but will strike viciously at the other.
Ninth: He suspends a branch in the center
of a room, and places some snakes on it. The
charmer stands close by, while another person
approaches from the opposite side. The snakes
run from the latter, leave the branch, and coil
round the neck and outstretched arms of the


539






THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


charmer, which they do not molest, but they
will bite at any one who tries to remove them.
All of these feats I myself have accomplished.
Now let us sift each performance.
First: The finding of the snake-a feat for
which the Hindu charmers get well.paid, pre-
tending thus to rid houses of snakes.
One day as I stood talking with some friends,
on a South African ostrich-farm, the owner,
whom I knew, came up and asked if I had
been successful in the snake-hunt to-day." I
answered that I had not. Then he smiled, and
said: "My servants have an idea that you
know by some magic means where the snakes
are, and then go and find them there, because
you always come home with one whenever you
go out. I have seen the snake-charmers do it
in India; but I don't suppose that you accom-
plish such things."
"Why," said I, laughing, I was just going
up to your house to catch one there."
"But we have never seen a snake about the
house; you must be mistaken this time," he
answered.
"Never mind," said I; "let us see if I am
not right. Allow me to look at your Wrists."
I looked at his wrists, glanced at his eyes,
and then looked at the wrists again. Then I
asked what room he had last been in.
"In the drawing-room."
"Well, then, let us go up to the house. I '11
catch a snake in the drawing-room."
The hearers all thought this a joke; but we
went to the room, and moved every article of
furniture it contained,- chairs, lounges, piano,
and all. No snake was to be seen. I may be
mistaken," I said; but I know it was here."
As I spoke the words the proprietor himself
lifted a cushion from the sofa, and a cobra
three feet long darted at his hand. I jumped
forward, and soon had the reptile by the neck.
They begged me to tell them how I knew
the snake was there, but I merely laughed and
said nothing, preferring to hear their opinions.
They asked to see its fangs. I opened its
mouth; the fangs were in place.
The proprietor was quite sure that the snake
could not have touched him without his know-
ledge, so as to leave any mark on his wrists
or clothes; and they all concluded that the


presence of the snake in the room that morn-
ing had in some magnetic way "influenced the
gentleman's circulation," or had so "affected
his nervous system" that I got evidence of its
presence by noting the state of his pulse.
"Why," said one, did you never notice the
queer nervous sensation that comes over you
when you unexpectedly see a snake close to
your feet in the grass? Just as the compass
points to the north, so do your nerves work
round to the magnetism of that snake."
Now this was really an utterly mistaken and
ridiculous explanation.
Next day, however, they began to waver in
the magnetic theory. They said that, after all,
I might have had the snake with me some-
where when they met me. I answered this
jestingly with a "may be so."
During the following week, I expected the
ostrich-farmer to call on me. On the very day
I expected him he came. Well," said I, as I
looked at his wrists again, "how is it possi-
ble that you have so many snakes in your
drawing-room ? Come, come! said he,
smiling, "no more of that. You had that
snake in your pocket." Well, search me, this
time," said I, and be sure there 's no trick in it.
I have no snake in my pocket, or anywhere else
about me; but I believe there is really one in
your drawing-room again."
He took me at my word, and searched me
all over before we set out to catch it. "You
know," said I, "that I have n't been near your
house since the day. I caught the other fellow."
"If you are right this time, I '11 believe you
have the same power as the Hindus," he
answered.
On the way, we called for the friends who
had been with us on the previous occasion;
and they also searched me so as to assure them-
selves that I had no snake with me. Quite
satisfied, as indeed they might be, we went on;
and behold! as we entered the drawing-room
door, there was a big snake scurrying in under
the piano.
We drove him from his shelter, and in a few
minutes he was captured. I had him by the
neck. But this time it was not a cobra, but a
harmless snake.
They were satisfied of my power, and to this


540


[MAY,






THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


day they incline to the "magnetic" theory -
unless they have since found out that I had a
helper that time-one of the ostrich-farm ser-
vants who, at my request, had carried in a harm-
less snake, and let him loose in the drawing-
room as soon as he saw us approaching the
house! On the first occasion, I did have the
.:bra. in mv pocket. :,'ind his f.an- ere not re-
rn:'ve I hie the-se t e, t hetm le asi to dibrrm
rheir suspicionr :of my ha\-i ng Ihd him j' aout
ri.. But l-.n. !i, iii: ha n't a drop of vi-no:m in
In.s larinds. t.r I had pr..-ssed it 'out p.re i,:iouily.
But tri.-kery o:A this kind :cannt mn.ke a sn.ke
l'.Ill'w i man abouL arl i -ctiu'll .1:1 where er
lhe oes, turn when hie turns., nrid. -helin he
-ri':, ne-tle ft I,, l-et. 'itSitllh
i-.re ri magnent-iii. Let us 'ee:
It app n i Lthat ia fe. I '' u
.re :-tandin.- in .1 he:ld n,-:r m\
.:,,,ri h,:ii-:, i h.en we saw a rge
,!':i.k-arir -u hhe .*:-naia. gli.:inr -
-iJ nr,.i It t-:',k ret'Lii e in a Lunc!l
.:. r.;,R and weci-t., A[-,,i. tl'
r, rds atay.
"" Don't kill hin,"
j:;id I; "and I nill
~1"',i\ \-ou s,:,m e-
thing you never
I 'In ek.re.
I *II make


a -- 5


A SNAKE-CHARMER LEADING A SNAKE.
that snake follow me into the house without
ever touching him. In fact, of his own ac-
cord, he '11 go wherever I go."
They waited while I ran in and hurriedly
changed my dress, reappearing in a moment
clad in a navy-blue dressing-gown, reaching
down to within an inch of the ground. Now it


is necessary to mention that it was a very calm
day. The sun was shining overhead, and not a
cloud was in the sky. The field was covered
with very short grass, and I trusted to the fact
that there was not a mole-hole or a rat-hole
in the entire acre, nor any other place for the
snake to hide in, except


..'' *. ': P i" w ierie lie -Vtill lay clhi-e.
-. I a1:.proacihe'ld him, and
too':k ur mp sitatn:rin about
tent. .a rdi from whier- lie .i.a hiding.
I -tood still as a .tatie. ,with my arms h.ng-
inq nr:ltionle ivs b% rmy .id s. and n- face t:-
ward him. I tl-n asked themn- to. gi: to the
bunch of grass by the farther side, and to chase
him out so that he would make his exit on the
side next to me. But before they came near,
he had already glided off, and made directly
toward me. I was gazing straight at him as he
approached me, and, without turning my head
or moving my arms, I began to move gently
backward. Still he followed. I turned to the


-1S93.1


~
I'i

4






THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


left; he still followed. He was not angry--he
did not want to attack me, for he glided on very
gently. If I moved to his right, he did so too;
if I went to his left, he did the same.
I allowed him to come within a yard of me,
and then asked the others, but still with my
eyes carefully on the snake, to direct me in
my backward route, since I could not turn my
head to direct myself, as I had to keep facing
him. They sent me by a very winding route,
but he followed every turn till I got to the
door. When finally I sat down gently on the
step,. he glided in beneath my dressing-gown,
and :coiled himself on the toes of my shoes.
They lifted the skirt of the dressing-gown to
look at him, and he was frightened, and shot
past me into the door, taking refuge among
the furniture. I picked him up, and added him
to my already large collection of live snakes.
Poor fellow I he died long ago, and his remains
are in a bottle in the museum of Trinity
College, Dublin.
Now, they did n't drive him toward me, for
they had remained afar off, nearly as far from
him as they had been at first.
"How did you do it?" they inquired; and
I, in answer (as was my right), asked them to
explain it.
One believed I had some food about me to
attract him. Another thought I had rubbed on
my dressing-gown some drug of which he liked
the odor. On being assured that these guesses
were wrong, they remembered that I had kept
my eye on him all the time and never once
turned from him. They asked if that was a
necessary part of it. I said, "Yes; otherwise
I could not keep control of him."
Then they said, It is magnetism, or hypno-
tism. It is by the power of your eye that you
did it."
No," I answered; "it was not my eyes that
drew him. The attraction was more general;
but yet it was neither food, nor drink, ior odor
of any kind. He was attracted toward me
very powerfully indeed, but the cause was
neither chemical nor electrical."
Six words contain the answer: six more the
explanation. Perhaps the reader can guess
them. He wanted to hide-beneath me; as the
shadow was tempting, and he did n't know that


I was a living thing. The dressing-gown hid my
moving feet.
Like the alphabet or the telephone, it is very
simple when you know it, but very mysterious
when you don't.
Now for the third trick: A charmer can, by
a simple motion of his hand, make a moving
snake stop instantly.
The reason is this: A snake is a most timid
animal. His eyes, as has been said before, while
dull to color and form, are quick to motion,
especially if it is rapid. If any large thing
moves very quickly, too near him, he gets
frightened and scurries off; while at certain
distances, the motion stops him if he be moving.
He stops from astonishment, fear, or the wish
to see what it is that moves. Hence he glides
on, unconscious of the charmer's presence near
him so long as the latter remains perfectly
quiet; the snake does n't know him from a tree
or a rock. But when he gives a sudden evi-
dence of life, the snake is astonished, and im-
mediately remains stock still.
In the fourth trick, the charmer makes the
cobra dance, with or without music. In India
and Africa the charmers pretend the snakes
dance to the music; but they do not, for they
never hear it.. A snake has no external ears,
and perhaps gets evidence of sound only through
his skin, when sound causes bodies in contact
with him to vibrate. They hear also through the
nerves of the tongue, but do not at all compre-
hend sound as we do. But the snake's eyes
are very much alive to the motions of the
charmer, or to the moving drumsticks of his
confederate; and, being alarmed, he prepares
to strike. A dancing cobra (and no other
snakes dance) is simply a cobra alarmed and
in a posture of attack. He is not dancing to
the music, but is making ready to strike the
charmer.
The fifth trick is thus explained: The cobra
is perhaps the most nervous of all snakes.
After being teased a little, a blow from a light
instrument, such as a lead-pencil, will throw
him into a state of collapse, when every muscle
becomes rigid as in tetanus or "lockjaw." If
allowed, he will remain still as if dead and stiff
as a stick for half an hour. To restore him the
charmer catches him by the tip of the tail, and


[MAY,






THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


gives him a sudden jerk up from the ground.
This stretches the spine, relaxes the tension of
the muscles, and the snake is again imme-
diately "dancing" to attack. Again and again
this can be repeated.
As to the sixth: An enraged boa-constrictor
will hiss as loudly as a small steam-engine, and


The wide mouth of the sack he gathers up
with his left hand, drawing it somewhat tightly
round the neck. If with his right hand, now,
he feels the snake trying to push forward into
the bag, he quietly lets go, and the boa crawls
into the darkness of the interior, thinking he is
hiding. If, on the contrary, the snake pulls his


SNAKE-CHARMER OF MOROCCO.


bite viciously and repeatedly at any one who
approaches him. The charmer takes an empty
sack, and holds it before him like a screen. He
moves very slowly (rapid motion would make
the snake bite), and covers the snake with it,
taking notice where the head is. Then he runs
his hand quickly underneath, grasps the snake
gently but firmly round the neck, spreads out
the sack and draws the opening over the head.


head back, the charmer scratches the tail, a
thing which all boa-constrictors dislike. This
annoyance will cause the snake to shoot for-
ward and coil in the bottom of the sack, think-
ing that he has at last reached safety from
annoyance.
The seventh trick may be thus explained:
The charmer takes the snakes, and places them
over his shoulders and arms. They are not


543





THE SECRETS OF SNAKE-CHARMING.


alarmed at his gentle action. Then he remains
perfectly still, the snakes seeming to regard
him as a convenient tree for crawling on, and
his outstretched arms as branches to cling to.
Then a confederate approaches and teases
them. They forget the motionless charmer,
but will naturally-fly at any moving person
who approaches him.
In the eighth trick, the- charmer places a vi-
cious snake on a table, and excites him to the
highest anger, so that he becomes almost unap-
proachable. Then, with his left hand raised
and moving in jerks, he slowly draws near to
the snake, who, disregarding the gently moving
body and motionless right hand, does his best
to bite the threatening left. Now while the
left hand is still moving and the snake's at-
tention is well fixed on that, the hitherto quiet
right hand swoops suddenly on the snake, and
lifts him from the table in a twinkling. The dis-
traction thus caused by the right hand is but a
slight momentary surprise, while the left remains
all the time a constant menace, and to it the en-
raged snake confines his whole attention.
In the next feat a bough is suspended in the
center of the room, and some snakes are placed
on it. This is done very gently, so that the ani-
mals are not frightened. Then the man stands
close by, motionless as a statue. The snakes are
alarmed by a confederate coming up rapidly
on the other side, and fly from him, leaving
the branches and climbing over the charmer
as over a convenient tree. They do not know
that his motionless form is anything to fear,
and having no other place to escape, they
crawl out to the extremities of his outstretched
arms. Then the confederate irritates them, and
they will bite at him or any one else, but there
is nothing to cause them to attack the motion-
less charmer.

Thus it will be seen that the secret of the
snake-charmer is a perfect knowledge of the
ways and powers of snakes, and of their likes
and dislikes. Of course- he must know more
than this. He must be able to tell what kind
of snake will suit each purpose best, because


a snake that will do for one performance may
not suit another.
The snakes used by the charmers in this
country are generally boa-constrictors, pythons,
or other harmless kinds, so that if they do bite
no evil effects will follow. The deadly snakes
are generally rather small. Three feet would
be about their average size. The family of the
boas and pythons, to which belong all the very
large snakes of the world, contains no venomous
species. Large snakes allow themselves to be
pulled about in a way that their smaller brethren
would quickly resent. The .boa-constrictor is
especially mild and gentle; but, when once an-
gered (which the charmers here take care shall
not happen) he is exceedingly fierce, and will
not become calm again for a considerable time.
In addition to this mildness of temper, our
comparatively cold climate renders them slug-
gish of movement, and oftener still they are
weakened by bad treatment. Few of them are
fed properly or sufficiently. As a starved race-
horse loses his spirit, so does the noble boa,
when weakened by hunger, lack his native fire
of resentment.
Like men, they seem to have their peculi-
arities of temper, and each species has likes
and dislikes proper to itself. A knowledge of
these is the secret of handling snakes. For
the charmer to puff his breath in the face of a
boa-constrictor is an indignity which would call
forth a loud and prolonged hiss from even the
meekest of his tribe. Should this insult be
several times repeated, the gentle character dis-
appears entirely, giving place to anger and a
display of hissing and biting, such as no other
serpent is capable of exhibiting.
Many persons have imagined that snakes be-
come tame, in the sense in which we apply
that word to birds and quadrupeds; but this is
entirely a mistake. The master comes to know
the animal's ways, and he treats it accordingly.
A snake that is often handled submits to it more
readily, after a time; but even if born in a house
(and I have had such) snakes will never cease
to be wild snakes, for they cannot be tamed, nor
can they learn to distinguish persons.


544

















































-,J I N.


POET'S NARCISSUS.
(SEE NEXT PAGE.)


VOL. XX.-35"


": ;*-.* -


5
~I +









POET'S NARCISSUS.
(Narcissus Poeticus.)

By MRS. R. SWAIN GIFFORD.

HEN English under ground. Another legend tells about a
Children go beautiful youth named Narcissus. His father
a -la y g, was a river god named Cephissus, and his
they find, in mother a nymph called Liriope. The wonder-
sheltered ful beauty of the youth caused many to love
places,bylit- him, but he was cold and indifferent to all.
tle brooks, A poor little nymph called Echo loved him
the beautiful so dearly that she pined away and died because
"poet's nar- he would not care for her.
cissus." At last Nemesis, the goddess of retribution,
This is a decided to punish him for his hard heart.
very ancient She caused him to fall in love with his own
flower, for it image as he looked into a stream, and as he
bloomed could never reach this beautiful reflection, he
even as long gradually perished with hopeless love.
ago as when His body was changed into the beautiful
the gods and flowers, which have, ever after, borne his name.
goddesses were supposed to live on the earth.
For, as his own bright visage he surveyed,
The old Grecian legends say it was the He fell in love with the fantastic shade;
flower the maiden Proserpine was gathering And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd,
when Pluto took her away to his dark: home Nor knew, fond youth it was himself he loved.
ADDISON'S OVID."


FAR IN THE WOODS IN MAY.

By EDITH M. THOMAS.

FAR in the woods-the fresh green woods-in May
There sang a bird; but all it found to say
Was Keep it! keep it! all the merry day.

The bird? I never saw it, no,-not I!
I followed, but it flitted far on high;
And "Keep it! keep it!"-Echo caught the cry.

I was so glad, as through the woods I went!
And now I think that "Keep it! keep it!" meant,
"Child, keep each happy thought that Heaven has sent."
546





















fAr -
tt ~ :e~.

I(~c'


THE TINMAN.


By MARIAN DOUGLAS.
APPLE-bloom and lilac, All things speak of springtime;
Oh, how sweet they smell! See the tinman's cart!
Bob o' Lincoln, hear him Pans and pails a-glitter,
Like a silver bell! Great brooms mounted high,
Round the barn the swallows, Big and little dippers,
Loudly twittering, dart; Like those in the sky;






THE TINMAN.


Stopping at each farm-house,-
"Is the lady in?
Have you any rags, ma'am?
Do you want some tin?
Tin or wooden ware, ma'am,-
Will you trade with me? "
Oh, a traveling tinman
I should like to be!
Everybody knows him,
Every one he knows;
Through the pleasant summer
Jogging round he goes.


All the world about him
From his cart he sees,-
Fields of purple clover,
Murmuring with bees;
Gardens full of roses,
Brook-sides blue with flags,-
Asking at each farm-house,
"Have you any rags?
Tin or wooden ware, ma'am,-
Will you trade with me ? "
Oh, a traveling tinman's
Is the life for me!


At
Nh


A -7
-. *-m-,7 ii-


THE STORY OF MONKEY-MOKE.

BY POULTNEY BIGELOW.


ONCE upon a time many years ago when
animals could talk, there lived a very naughty
monkey whose name was Monkey-Moke. Now
Monkey-Moke used to tease the cat by pulling
her tail when she lay fast asleep on the carpet;
Monkey-Moke was known also to run after little
chickens and frighten them very much; and when
his mother was reading, as monkeys did in
those days, Monkey-Moke often made so much
noise that his mama grew very angry and said
she would punish him if he did not behave better.


But Monkey-Moke kept on being naughty;
kept on teasing the little pussy-cat; kept on
running after the chickens; kept on making a
noise when his mother wished him to be quiet,
and at last got so bad that nobody invited him
any more to tea-parties, and people said he was
too naughty for nice little monkeys to play with.
One morning Monkey-Moke seemed to the
family to have so bad a headache that he could
not go to school, so his mama said he might lie
in bed and play with his new box of wooden sol-


548


[MAY,





THE STORY OF MONKEY-MOKE.


diers. But Monkey-Moke was perfectly well, and
only made-believe have a headache so that his
mama would let him stay away from school.
So, when his mama left the room to go down-
stairs and prepare the dinner, Monkey-Moke
quickly jumped out of his bed and began to
dress himself, taking great care to make no
noise, for he was afraid somebody might hear
him and make him go back to bed.
But he did not put on his old clothes which
he wore to school. This naughty Monkey-Moke
went to the cupboard where his mother kept the
cleanest Sunday clothing, and pulled out the
very nicest, freshest clothes he could find. He
put on a pair of yellow trousers, a red coat, a
very high collar, a cravat covered with large
blue spots, a high hat, and took a walking-
stick with a gold knob at the end.


his mother. But he saw no one, so he cautiously
climbed out upon the window-sill and jumped
from there on to the branch of a large chestnut-
tree that grew very near the house, and then
he climbed carefully from branch to branch
until he came to the bottom.
By this time he was very red in the face
and out of breath from his hard work, and,
besides, his new coat and trousers were a lit-
tle mussed; so he pulled out his handkerchief
and brushed himself off, then wiped his face
and hands and started off for a walk over the
fields to play with some other naughty little
monkeys that lived in the next village.
But the day was rather warm; his new shoes'
were a little tight; his high hat felt heavy; his
Sunday coat seemed too hot, and his
5 ,new trousers were not very com-


MONKEY-MOKE SCARES THE LITTLE CHICKENS.

When he had finished dressing he strutted up fortable. He began to think he was getting
and down before the looking-glass, and said to tired and would like to have something to eat;
himself, "I think I am a very pretty monkey but he had nothing in his pocket except his
indeed." pocket-handkerchief, so he had to go on.
Then he opened the window and peeped out At last, however, he saw a big cow eating
to see if any one was looking, for he was very grass by the side of a beautiful little pond, and
much afraid that some one would come and tell he said to himself, I will go up and speak to


549


:893.]






550 THE STORY OF
Mrs. Cow and ask her to give me a ride." So
he walked up to Mrs. Cow and said, Good
morning, Mrs. Cow. How do you feel, this fine
morning ? "
"Very well, thank you," said Mrs. Cow, going
on with her breakfast. "I hope you feel well
too, Mr. Monkey-Moke."
No, indeed, Mrs. Cow," said Monkey-Moke;
"I feel very badly; for I have been walking a
long distance, and my feet hurt me. I am very
hungry, and I am anxious to get to the next
village before noon."
When Mrs. Cow heard this she felt very sorry
for Monkey-Moke, and so she said to him,
"Well, Mr. Monkey-Moke, as I am a very big
cow, and you are a very small monkey, and as
you are very tired, perhaps you would like me
to give you a ride on my back."


MRS. COW CARRIES MONKEY-MOKE INTO THE POND.


"Indeed," said Monkey-Moke, I should
like that very much, and if you let me have a
ride on your back, I will be very good and
thank you very much."
Very well, then," said Mrs. Cow; climb up
my hind leg until you reach my tail, then catch


This was very naughty, so Mrs. Cow began to
scold Mr. Monkey-Moke. She said:
Now, Mr. Monkey-Moke, if you don't stop
teasing me right away, I sha'n't carry you any
longer, but shall drop you here and let you walk
all the rest of the way in your tight shoes."


MONKEY-MOKE. [MAY,

on to my tail and climb on until you reach my
back, and you can sit there while I give you a
ride."
So Monkey-Moke put his walking-stick be-
tween his teeth, planted his high hat firmly
on his head, and buttoned his coat'up tight;
then he climbed up the cow's leg and took
hold of her tail, and in a very short time was
nicely seated on the back of the big cow. Then
the cow began to move slowly, and Mr. Mon-
key-Moke enjoyed himself very much; in fact,
he forgot that he was tired and hungry, and
began to tease Mrs. Cow.
First he took his long tail and tickled Mrs.
Cow's ears; then he took his walking-stick and
poked Mrs. Cow in the side; then he began to
scratch Mrs. Cow with his long nails, and at
last he began to pull out Mrs. Cow's soft hair.






THE STORY OF MONKEY-MOKE.


But Monkey-Moke held on to Mrs. Cow and
said: Oh, I am not afraid of you, Mrs. Cow;
and I sha'n't get down, and I shall do as I
please, and I shall tease you just as much, as
I please; and I am holding on so tight to your
hair that you can't throw me off, and therefore
you have got to carry me to the next village."
Then Mrs. Cow became very angry and
said:
Mr. Monkey-Moke, you ought tobe ashamed
of yourself. You promised to be very good and
behave well, but instead of that you have been
beating me and scratching me, and now I shall
not carry you any more, so get right down this
very moment."
But Mr. Monkey-Moke laughed very loud,
and went on beating Mrs. Cow with his stick,
and pulling her hair out with his fingers.
Then Mrs. Cow said to herself:
I shall ask Mr. Monkey-Moke once more
to get down off of my back, and if then he is still
naughty and will not go away, I will jump into
the pond full of water and wet his new clothes."
So she once more called out to Mr. Monkey-
Moke: "Please, Mr. Monkey-Moke, do get
down from my back, because you hurt me very
much."
But Monkey-Moke would not; on the con-
trary, he went on teasing Mrs. Cow.
Then what do you think happened?
Mrs. Cow stuck her tail right out straight to
show that she was very angry, and then ran very
hard toward the water. .Mr. Monkey-Moke
became very much frightened, because he did
not like the water at all, and usually cried when
his mother gave him his bath in the morning.
He tried to make Mrs. Cow stop by promising to
be good, but it was too late- on and on rushed
Mrs. Cow, Mr. Monkey-Moke holding on very
tight. At last there came a great splash, and
Mr. Monkey-Moke felt the cold water trickling
up his nose, down his ears, and into his eyes.
When he tried to speak the water rushed into
his mouth, and he was afraid that he would be
drowned.. He thought of his dear mama at
home, of his warm little bed and of his bowl of
bread and milk, and said to himself that if he


once got away from this water he would never
again be a naughty monkey. While he was
struggling in the water, Mrs. Cow gave him a
push with her nose and once more put him
on land, much to Mr. Monkey-Moke's delight.
Mrs. Cow then told him to run home straight to
his mama and tell how naughty he had been
and promise to be a good boy afterward.
So Mr. Monkey-Moke picked up his stick and
his wet hat and ran home as hard as he could.
His collar and his trousers and his coat and
his new cravat were all spoiled by the water,
and his mother was very angry at him. Then,












r











MR. MONKEY-MOKE GETS A DUCKING.

again, he caught a bad cold and the doctor had
to be called, who gave him some very nasty
medicine to take, and made him stay in bed for
six days eating nothing but gruel without any
sugar.
But, in the end, it did Mr. Monkey-Moke
good, for he did not tease Miss Pussy-Cat any
more; nor did he frighten the little chickens;
nor make a noise when his mother wanted to
read, and above all he was very careful not to
tease Mrs. Cow.






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


MY FRIENDS: I hear there is to be a World's
Fair in Chicago this year, and that it opens this very
month. To my thinking, there 's a world's fair
every year, and a grand one, too, that opens here
always at about this time,-the greatest floral and
agricultural show on record; -but Chicago, I 'm
told, intends to introduce manufactures, arts, and
all sorts of wonders and achievements drawn from
nearly every part of the earth; so I suppose her
show, like herself, really is to be the very biggest
thing ever known. Well, the Deacon and the
dear Little Schoolma'am-and, therefore, my
honored self -all agree that this show, this grand
Columbian Exposition, as it is called, is a matter
in which our whole country is interested. Yes,
and it 's an excellent thing for this noble Republic
to do in celebration of a certain 4oo-years-ago
historic event which has been mentioned several
.times lately in the very best circles. The great
discovery cannot be too warmly remembered, too
splendidly honored, and I heartily hope that the
intrepid Christopher who (as the Little School-
ma'am says) carried a good solid quarter of this
earth on his Genoese shoulders, has the joy,
wherever he may be to-day, of knowing just what
the new country he brought into view is turning
out to be.
Now we '11 give our attention to
A LAZY WASP.
DEAR JACK: On looking over some of the old num-
bers of ST. NICHOLAS, I came across that of June, 1889,
in which is an article called "The JEsthetic Wasps-";
it reminded me of a similar incident of last summer.
I was spending a few weeks at my aunt's along the
Neshaminy, and employed part of my time crocheting.
Near the open window stood the sewing-machine, where
I was accustomed to leave my work when not busy with
it. One day--it was particularly warm and drowsy -
my work lay idle all the morning. In the afternoon I
took it up and had just commenced upon it, when I


noticed two little green worms, such as are found among
the timothy-grass (those upon which wasps and other
large insects feed), lying in my lap. I jumped up in
great fear, as though I had seen a snake. Stoopingdown
to brush them outdoors, instead of two, there were five
worms on the carpet. Where had they come from?
I shook my gown, but found no more until after tea,
when again I resumed my lace, and behold! again I
spied a worm in my lap. Just then I noticed the peculiar
appearance of one end of my spool, and on examination
it proved to be stopped up with mud, while the other end
was still open, whence came the little worms. A mud-
wasp had apparently come in through the open window,
and seeing my spool, thought she would save herself the
trouble of building a house as her sisters had done under
. the eaves of the porch.
We all watched the machine to see her return (we had
before noticed a wasp flying round, but thought nothing
of it), and we soon saw her return with her burden, and
go into one of two or three spools lying there. I picked
up the smallest, a No. 60, and aunt, with the crochet-
needle, broke into the mud-sealed ends and out fell more
than a dozen worms! How crowded they must have
been! The mud-wasp, as we know, builds her house,
in which she lays the eggs, then gathers small worms
for the young to feed upon, before sealing up the doors
of her dwelling. But this wasp was either too lazy or
too much oppressed by the exceedingly warm weather, to
build the walls of her own house. Yours truly, M.

A BOLD VIOLET,
WOULD you believe it ? the flowers actually talk
to each other sometimes, though perhaps nobody
but a Jack-in-the-Pulpit can understand them.
And I now find out that the violet is rather tired
of being always called "modest," and the rose of
being considered "proud" and "queenly," while
the poppy insists that it does not always "flaunt"
its petals, and the lily claims that it is not "de-
mure." This little story of a modest rose and a
bold violet will show you how the flowers them-
selves may sometimes feel, though no doubt the
wise human folk will go on writing about the
"haughty" rose and the "modest" violet just as
if it never could be otherwise.
Here is the story:
Once there was a superb red rose, who,
though she had been much admired, hung her
head modestly and longed to hide herself in the
shadows of the garden.
"'It is so light up here,' she said to herself,
' and everybody can see me. I wish they would not
put me in so conspicuous a place. Besides, I 'm
beginning to fade.'
"'Don't you like it?' whispered a violet near
by. 'I do.'
"The rose, naturally shocked at this remark
from a violet, made no reply, but bowed, more
meekly on her stem as if striving in some way to
atone for her companion's audacity.
'Yes,' continued the bold violet. 'I like it.
I learn through the children's comments that I 'm
not only sweet, but I 'm lovely, and, above all, I'm
modest. All this is delightful, and I 'm thankful
that I can make myself so agreeable.'
"Then the bold violet turned its face to the
light, squared its pretty shoulders, and swayed in
the breeze.
"Soon the children came to the window and


[MAY,






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


leaned out upon the stone sill where stood the rose-
tree and the violet.
"Then the eldest child daintily severed the
humble rose from its stem and cast it away, saying
crossly, 'Bother! why did you go and fade? I
intended to wear you at dinner.'
But both the children kissed the violet lightly,
and praised it for remaining fresh so long.
"' You're just as pretty as you can be-you
little sweetness!' said the younger child, softly
caressing it.
'I know it,' thought the bold violet. Is n't
it nice !' And she did n't hang her head one bit,
but just swayed there in the breeze, squaring her
pretty shoulders, and holding her face to the light
till the sun went down."

HERE is a bit of observation sent you by your
friend James Carter Beard. He not only describes
certain funny goings on" in Central Park, but
most kindly sends you this picture of the scene,
which he drew on the spot. He calls his true story
A SOCIABLE PARTY.

ALL the birds and beasts in the zoological collection
at Central Park have every day at their meals a number
of uninvited guests. Whether they like it or not, the


animals on exhibition have to share their food with a host
of greedy, noisy, saucy little visitors that cannot be
driven away even by the eagles and vultures. These
little visitors show their contempt for royalty itself by
bearding the lion in his den, sharing his rations, and
sometimes disturbing his naps when they alight upon
his paw or his back.
Of course the visitors referred to are English spar-
rows; what other living creatures would be so bold ?
The animals most subject to their persecutions, and most
submissive to them, are the prairie-dogs. These little
animals are accustomed to entertain uninvited guests on
the plains of Colorado and New Mexico, where they
live when at home: guests such as rattlesnakes and the
owls that not only live with them, but, not content with
free lodgings, sometimes ungratefully eat up their hosts'
little ones.
As substitutes for owls and snakes, the sparrows in
Central Park are indeed welcome to the prairie-dogs,
though they always get more than a fair share of the
daily lunch. Sometimes they peck their timid hosts when
the latter attempt to sit at the first table." The prairie-
dogs, however, never seem to take offense, but chatter
away to the sparrows and to each other in the best
of spirits, glad to accept whatever the sparrows are
pleased to leave them. Each dog or family of dogs has
its own burrow, but they are constantly visiting one
another, and holding town-meetings in the center of the
space allowed them for their village. A happier, more
peaceable, or more interesting community it would indeed
be hard to find.


THE PRAIRIE-DOGS AND THEIR UNBIDDEN GUESTS.


553


























----F ~~%/~ P U ~ ~A. Or-It
B -I;



By JULIA D. COWLES.


ONCE upon a time there lived two fairies
named Optie and Pessie.
Now, Optie and Pessie were sisters, but you
never would have guessed it in the world, for
they'did not look one bit alike.
Each of these fairies had a very strange habit
of always carrying about a pair of little glasses,
through which to look at anything or anybody
that interested her.
One day they started out for a walk, tak-
ing their precious glasses with them.
They had not gone far when a toad hopped
across the path.
"What is that?" they both exclaimed; and
both put up their glasses to look.
Oh, oh, oh!" screamed Pessie. ."It is a
great big monster! "
Why, no," answered Optie; "it is a very lit-
tle thing, and quite harmless, I am sure."
But Pessie had started to run away, and Op-
tie's words could not stop her.
How foolish," thought Optie, to run for
such a little thing"; and she stood watching
the toad as he hopped away. -
The next day they started for another walk.
When they reached the edge of the woods, they


began to pick up the nuts which had fallen
upon the ground.
Suddenly Optie said, Listen High on the
bough of a tree sat a bird singing as though
his little throat would burst. Up went both
glasses at once.
"What a beautiful bird!" said Optie. "And
how charmingly he sings!"
"Pshaw!" answered Pessie. Do you call
that little speck a beautiful bird ? I am sure I
cannot see any beauty in it, and surely its song
cannot be worth listening to "; and she went
on picking up the nuts and paying no attention
to the music which filled all the air.
Optie looked at her sister in surprise. Then
she exclaimed," I know, Pessie. You looked
through the wrong side of your glasses."
No, I did n't," snapped Pessie. I meant
to look through that side."
Optie tried to coax her just to try the other
way and see how much nicer it was, but Pessie
would not be persuaded; neither would she lis-
ten to the song.
After a while some boys were seen coming
through the woods, and our two little fairies hid
behind a tree till they should pass.






THE MAGIC GLASSES.


As one of the boys went by the tree, his foot
struck the pile of nuts which had been care-
fully gathered, and scattered them all among
the grass.
Oh, dear! exclaimed Pessie, when they
were by, stamping her foot and snatching up her
glasses. Just see what those great big boys
have done; and we will have all our work to do
over, for see how far away they have scattered
our nuts."
Oh, never mind," answered Optie, cheer-
fully, as she peered through her glasses.
They were quite little boys, and probably did
not notice them; besides, it won't take long to
pick them up again. They are only scattered a
little way." And she set briskly to work, and
had half of them picked up before Pessie had
smoothed the wrinkles from her face.
And so it always was. If anything pleas-
ant came in their way, Optie always looked
through the side of her glass which made it
appear as big as possible, or if anything un-
pleasant was discovered, she would look
through the other side of her glass to make
it seem very small and insignificant indeed;
while Pessie always took the opposite course,
and magnified the unpleasant things, but was
quite unwilling that the good things should ap-
pear as large as they really were.
Of course Optie had a much better time
than Pessie; but she never could persuade her
sister to look through the same side of the glass
that she did, and finally she gave up trying, and
laughingly declared that Pessie really enjoyed
her way of looking at things, and so she should
let her alone.
Well, when Optie and Pessie grew older and
had households of their own to look after, they
still used their magic glasses, but by this time
they had become so trained in the use of them
that they could see pIeople's thoughts and mo-
tives as if they were the people themselves.
One morning Optie said to Rainbow, her
husband (he was always such a gay little fel-
low that every one called him Rainbow);
"Now, dear, do remember to go to the Silk.
spider's before you come home, and bring me
some threads for my embroidery."
Rainbow said he would; but when he came
back he had forgotten all about it!


Optie felt a little inclined to scold, for she
very much wanted to finish her embroidery
that day, but first she took up her glasses and
looked right into Rainbow's mind.
"It was a very little forget, after all," she
said to herself; "not at all worth making any
fuss about "; and so Rainbow had his favorite
supper of mushrooms and honey, and in the
evening they both took a walk to the Silk-
spider's, and the embroidery was finished the
next day.
At another time the little maid who did the
housework neglected to set away the pail of
water with which she had been washing the
glass floors of their home, and one of the small
Rainbows fell into the water.
Optie ran to the scene of trouble, and her
first thought was, "What a careless little maid,
to be sure! But when she had looked for a
moment at the pail and the dripping little
Rainbow through those wonderful glasses, the
whole affair seemed so small that she put Rain-
bow Jr. into dry clothing in a twinkling, and
quietly reproved the little maid, who inwardly
blessed her and determined to be very careful
in the future.
At Pessie's home matters were very different.
To begin with, her husband was called In-
digo because he was always so yery blue-and
no wonder! He had found he could not
please his wife, try as he would, and so he
had long ago given up trying; and as no man
can be expected to be happy who has not a
happy home, he was just about the bluest
man the world has ever seen.
Then there were the little Indigos. The
only streaks of real sunshine that ever came
into their unhappy lives shone when they
were permitted to go on a visit to their Aunt
Optie's.
When they were at home, if a dress was torn
or a knee worn through, their mother would
look through her glasses sharply and declare
that it was "done on purpose to make her
more work, when goodness knew she had
enough to do, anyway!" and the offending
Indigo would be sent to a closet or a corer
to meditate upon the great wrong he had
committed.
No willing little maid could be found to


555






THE MAGIC GLASSES.


work for Pessie, although Mr. Indigo had
scoured the country to find one.
Pessie and her glasses were pretty well known,
and people called her the cross fairy."
After Optie and Pessie had used their glasses
for a long time, they became enchanted so that
Optie's glasses would magnify only the pleasant
things and make the unpleasant ones look very
small, and if used in any other way would
make everything look confused and blurred.
Pessie's glasses, too, could only be used as
she had used them, and were worthless if looked
through in the opposite way.
One day a magician named Dispo Sition


disguised himself as a beggar for the purpose
of gaining possession of the wonderful glasses.
He went to both Optie's and Pessie's houses,
and soon afterward disappeared, and with him
disappeared the two pairs of magic glasses !
He took them to his home, and made a
great many like them, and distributed them
all over the world.
But every one has the power of choosing
one of the two kinds, and those who choose
the kind like Optie's are called Optimists, while
those who choose the kind made like Pessie's
are called Pessimists.
Which sort have you decided to wear?


THE LETTER-BOX.


As illustrations to The World's Fair Palaces could
hardly be more than portraits of the buildings, and The
Century in discussing their architecture published as
good pictures of them as could be secured, ST. NICH-
OLAS -by the courtesy of the editor of The Century -
reprints for the boys and girls these excellent pictures.
No doubt many young Chicago residents or visitors will
notice the changes that have been made since the publica-
tion of the official map of 1892, from which the plan on page
518 was drawn.
WATERVLIET ARSENAL, TROY, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are three little girls who
live at the Watervliet Arsenal. From our schoolroom
window we can see the beautiful Hudson River and the
city of Troy.
But we want to tell you about an alphabet cake we
had last week. Marion is only five years old and has
just begun to go to school, and we were promised a cake
as soon as she learned her letters. It took her a long
time to learn them all. She had so much trouble with
W and Q that we thought we were never going to get
the cake. But now she knows them all, and.can say
them backward and forward and skipping around. So
yesterday we had the cake. It was a lovely one, all
frosted white, and with a yellow candle burning in the
center. Marion blew out the candle and cut the cake
and gave us each a large piece. Your little friends,
LOUIE, ELEANOR, and MARION.

HARWOOD, MARYLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I enjoy all of your stories very
much. When I was one year old Santa Claus brought
me a toy dog-"Towser." I loved him so hard that it


wore his first skin off, and since it has been replaced he
is so changed that I have to call him an elephant.
"Jumbo" is his name now. Your faithful little reader,
THOMSON K--.


CIUDAD PORFIRIO DIAZ, MEXICO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you one and a
quarter years now, and you are my best companion, as
there are not many boys my size here. I am now twelve
years old and have five sisters to protect. My favorite
story-writer is Charles F. Lummis. We go riding here a
great deal on our faultless little Mexican ponies. We all
went a few days ago to take a twenty-mile ride, and were
not a bit tired. Once papa said he would tire us out, so
he took us on a twenty-four-mile ride with few provi-
sions, and camped three days; but I do not think he suc-
ceeded. Sometimes we don't come home till moonlight.
Then is the time for teasing and drilling with papa. We
are not left in the dark at night, as some seem to think,
but have electric light. We are not left without a wash
in the morning, but have water-power, etc. There are
many nice Americans here. But most of them are in
our little American colony. The town is very pic-
turesque, for it has sidewalks higher than the street, sev-
eral public schools, a Mexican army post, four or five
plazas, and two dogs to every man, woman, and child -
as it seems. 'T is very interesting to foreigners. All the
houses (residences) are close up to the narrow streets,
with the American front yard in back, and using the
street for the trash. Although the Mexicans do not
know what good things are, they are the happiest people
in the world. There are a passenger bridge, built not
long ago by an enterprising man, and a railroad bridge


[MAY,






THE LETTER-BOX.


across the Rio Grande-the international boundary be-
tween the United States and Mexico. I am the son of
the general manager of the Mexican International Rail-
road, which is the only railroad here. It owns large
shops and in it all the repairs of the railroad are made,
as well as those of the branch road of the Southern
Pacific to Eagle Pass. There are 400 employees, and so
when you look at the company's grounds (depot grounds,
we call them) from afar, they look like a manufacturing
establishment with all its employees' houses scattered
about.
There are few days when we have nothing to do. In
the morning, school at home with our governess. We
have learned to speak three languages. Then music
lessons in the afternoon. Riding every day, running
"around the block" with our seven dogs, exercising on
the trapeze, and so on. Hoping that some day a great
many more boys and girls will have the great privilege of
seeing this wonderful Egypt of America," as I have, and
also that ST. NICHOLAS will prosper for many years,
I am your constant reader,
J. A. S- JR.


MY PERSIAN CAT.

I HAVE the loveliest little cat
In the world, it seems to me;
As much of her as is not gray
Is white as white can be.
Her hair is very long and thick,
SAnd soft as-carded wool,
While her record as a mouser
Is really wonderful.

Her tail is the chiefest beauty
Of all her varied store;
I almost think that it would do
To make a ladies' boa.
She is very aristocratic,
And will not wet her feet,
And she is quite particular
About what she has to eat.

Her ears are fringed so daintily,
Her eyes are almost blue,
And of such sweet dispositions
I think there must be few.
I do not know from where she came,
This ball of white and gray;
I do not think I really care,
Since she has come my way.

But if anything sad should happen,
And she should fade and die,
I know full well what I would do-
Just lay me down and cry.
Oh she's a darling little cat-
There are no two ways about it;
And if you could only see her,
I am sure you would not doubt it.
BERTHA E. C--.


BALDWINSVILLE, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been taken in our
family for over sixteen years, or since 1876, and it would
not seem like home without you. We have you bound,
and rarely a day passes that the volumes are not used.
I am fourteen, and have two sisters and two brothers
and a little dog named "Kaiser." He is half Scotch ter-
rier and very bright. My oldest sister has taught him
a good many tricks. He can stand on his hind legs and


walk, speak, sneeze, roll, beg, go lame, and when I go to
school I say, "By-by, Kaiser," and he takes one of
his front paws and waves it at me, and then when I am
gone, he looks out of the window and watches me till I
am out of sight, and then he will cry for some time
afterward.
I took a little trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan, this sum-
mer, and went from Buffalo to Detroit by water. I was
gone five weeks, and wore my traveling-suit all the time
because a man stole my valise when it was being trans-
ferred from the station to the dock, and I did not receive
it until two days before I started for home, so I had quite
a little experience. Your loving reader,
MARNIE V- .


MUNICH, GERMANY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think you will but very sel-
dom receiveletters from grandmothers. I am aGerman
old grandmother, living in Munich, and very happy to
receive all the year long dear ST. NICHOLAS, sent
through the unwearied kindness of young friends in New
York. I should like to express to you my deep-felt grati-
tude for all the precious hours my boys and myself spent
reading this incomparable magazine; and I hope that my
grandchildren (whose grandfather, on maternal side,
was your illustrious Bayard Taylor) will in a few years
also be able to appreciate ST. NICHOLAS as much as their
parents and German grandmother have done.
Yours sincerely, C. K--


POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The question given in the in-
closed rhyme was asked on a recent occasion by my
little boy (who thinks a great deal of ST. NICHOLAS).
Yours very truly, MRS. W. A. M- .

HIs QUESTION.
JOE JEFFERSON 's coming!
'T was noticed each day,
In newspaper ad's,
And posters so gay.
One small boy, evincing
Great desire to behold him
(On account of the charming
Reports that were told him),
But a trifle mixed
As to men of renown,
Asked, "When is Jeff Davison
Coming to town?"
G. W. M--.


BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will tell you of a trip I took to
the Blue Mountains last summer. We formed aWalking
Club almost as soon as we got there, and had about
twenty-five members, boys, girls, and young ladies and
gentlemen. We often walked between seven and ten
miles a day, and would have walked more if some of the
children had not become tired. One morning we got
up at five o'clock and started for a place called The
Devil's Race Course. We reached there at six o'clock,
beingabout five miles, and when we got there we could
see nothing but rocks and rocks, stretching over the
whole country for miles and miles around. The Devil's
Face, Hand, Cup, Table, Foot, Chair, and Coffin are
formed by Nature from solid stone, and the most re-
markable thing is a boiling spring that bubbles up in the
forest of rocks all the time. The Race Course was said


89s3.]


557






THE LETTER-BOX.


to be a bed of a river, and indeed I hardly think it could
be much else. I also saw and went down'into the cave
where Jesse James and his notorious band hid them-
selves. Your devoted reader,
ELSA RAYNER S-.

CINCINNATI, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a brother Laurence and
a sister Vida. I am the oldest, and we enjoy your lovely
magazine very much. We have a lovely horse named
"Kate." She is veryintelligent, and one day quite a num-
ber of people were in our kitchen looking at her. She
was standing hitched to the carriage with an old blan-
ket on. She had anicer one in the stable, and she knew
it. So, with all those people looking at her, she pulled
that blanket off with her teeth, and dropped it down in
front of her, as much as to say, I won't have you look-
ing at me with this old thing on." She is not afraid of
fireworks or bands of music. Your faithful reader,
MILDRED F-.


A CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE CLOCK AND THE INK.

TICK, tick, tick, went the clock, tick, tick.
Why ever on earth," said the ink,
"Whatever makes you go so quick ?
That 's what I cannot think."

"I go so quick? I 'm bound to go.
But why ever on earth," said the clock,
"Whatever makes you go so slow?
You 've always some in stock."

So one day the clock said he 'd go slow.
A gentleman said, Does this clock lose ?"
By the late train he had to go;
There was no other to choose.

The same day the ink said he 'd go fast.
A schoolboy said, "Oh, bother these blots.
My exercise will be the last;
The ink is thick and comes in knots."

So here, you see, is a very bad plight:
The clock went slow, the ink went fast;
The gentleman's train was just out of sight,
And the schoolboy's paper was the last.

MORAL.

Never try to be too ambitious.
WALTER B. O-.
(Eleven years.)


MOUNTAINVILLE, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on a farm of almost sixty
acres. We have great fun playing around a brook that
runs through our place. By we, I mean my little sister,
who is four, and my brother, who is nine; I am twelve.
We have a dog named Gipsy." We call her "Gip,"
for short. She has a pup named "Pingo." Pingo is
very funny. This morning she went down to our pond.
The pond was just frozen over with a thin coating of ice.
Pingo ventured out and fell through into the water. She
started for the land, where Gip was wildly dancing up
and down. When Pingo got quite near the edge Gip
grabbed her by the ear and pulled her out. Pingo was
very wet and cold, and went under the stove to get dry.
Your constant reader, ., EFFIE W. P-- .


SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My mama and I made this
Hero Alphabet, and I wish you would please print it.
We have read about most of these heroes together. I
am seven years old, and have never written to you be-
fore. Mama reads you to me every month.
SAMUEL B-

HERO ALPHABET.
A is for Ajax and Achilles, too;
B is for Bayard (B's are very few).
C is for Columbus, who sailed across the sea;
D is for David dauntless was he.
E is for Egbert, a conqueror reckoned;
F for Frederick, the Great, and the Second.
G for George Washington, our own hero he;
H is for Hercules, as strong as could be.
I for Idomeneus, who fought for old Greece;
J is for Jason, who won the Golden Fleece.
K is for King Arthur and his many knights;
L is for Lancelot, who conquered in most fights.
M for Menelaus at Troy he would not yield;
N is for Nestor, who bore the Golden Shield.
0 is for Olaf, a Norse hero brave;
P for Patroclus, who sought the Greeks to save.
Q for Quixote, who went forth from his home;
R is for Romulus, who built the city Rome.
S for Sarpedon, who helped in Trojan War;
T is for Theseus, who slew the Minotaur.
U is for Ulysses, gone for twenty years;
V for Victoria, queen without peers.
W for Wellington, who won at Waterloo;
X is for Xenophon, a great leader, too.
Y for the Yorks, with their rose so white;
Z is for Zeus, god of great might.


HAVERFORD, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you something
that I think will interest your readers, that a cousin of
mine who has just come from Spain was tellingme. She
said she was staying at a hotel just before Christmas,
when a little boy came to her and said he was afraid she
did not keep Christmas as they did in Spain. She said
that all the Americans kept it, and tried to explain how
they hung up their stockings, and how Santa Claus
filled them. He said that in Spain they would put their
shoes outside the door, and the Wise Men came and
filled them, because there are no'fireplaces in Spain, as
it is a warm country. Your little reader,
ELIZABETH BINNEY E--.



AN ORANGE PACKING-HOUSE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about an
orange packing-house. First they make tfi b.*"ei,which
I enjoy watching. They then bring in thei t ruit, and it
is sorted, sized, wrapped, and packed. They scrub the
fruit when they sort it, and size the fruit by letting it roll
down two strips of diverging board and drop in boxes;
they wrap the oranges in tissue-paper.
VERENA W-.


WE thainkthe young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Eva S., Elsie C.,
Marion E. B., Sophie M., Helen R., Willie S., Wayne
W., Sumner G. R., Nan, Winifred F., Charles F. S., J.
M. D., "Six Sisters," Margaret R., Alfred C., Charles G.,
Abbie H., E. Helen L., Peter M., James H. Jr., Muriel
S. P., Nellie Z., Gladys D. M., Anna J. N., Emily L. T.,
Bonnie 0., Hamilton S. B., Ruth H., Ella A. K., Jessie
B., W. K. B., Helen DeF. B., Eleanor, Susie B., Kathryn,
C. W. F., Ruth B., Win. W. H. L., Arthur V. S., M.
Madeline A., Genevieve C., Robert R. G., Willie J. B.


558







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.


WORD-SQUARES.. I I. Remora. 2. Elopes. 3. Morass. 4. Opaque.
5. Result. 6. Assets. II. i. Recess. 2. Ethnic. 3. Chaser. 4. Ensure.
5. Sierra. 6. Scream.
TRIPLE ACROSTIC. Frances Hodgson Burnett. From i to 8,
famish; 2 to 9, rancho; 3 to io, abound; 4 to rx, noting; 5 to 12,
caress; 6 to 13, Eskimo; 7 to 14, salmon. From 8 to 15, hobnob;
9 to 16, ormolu; zo to 17, dagger; ii to 18, gallon; 12 to 19, salute;
13 to 2o, object; 14 to 22, natant.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Whoever is in a hurry shows that the
thing he is about is too big for him."
WORD-BUILDING. E, re, ern, rent, terns, astern, garnets, garments,
streaming, stammering.
HOLLOW STAR. From I to 2, placard; i to 3, Pegasus; 2 to 3,
darkens; 4 to 5, amalgam; 4 to 6, anagram; 5 to 6, misterm.
ZIGZAG. "A good hater." Cross-words: i. Argo. 2. aGed.
3. AmOs. 4. alsO. 5. daDo. 6. aHoy. 7. Akin. 8. ETon.
9. amEn. io. geaR.


QUOTATION PUZZLE. "Who lives without folly is not so wise
as he thinks."
PI. Oh, strangely fall the April days!
The brown buds redden in their light,
And spiders spin by day and night;
The willow lifts a yellow haze
Of springing leaves to meet the sun,
While down their white-stone courses run
The swift, glad brooks, and sunshine weaves
A cloth of green for cowslip leaves
Through all the fields of April days.
NOVEL HOUR-GLASS. Central, healthful; from i to 2, water;
from 3 to 4, setto; cross-words: x. shy. 2. steam. 3. wears.
4. ale. 5. t. 6. the. 7. offer. 8. truth. 9. old.
HOLLOW ST. ANDREW'S CROSS: I. r. r. 2. put. 3. ruler. 4. ten.
5. r. II. i. r. 2. cap. 3. raved. 4. pea. 5. d. III. i.. 2. ram.
3. raged. 4. met. 5. d. IV. x. d. 2. era. 3. dress. 4. ass. 5. s.


To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the igth of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February I5th, from The McG.'s"-Josephine
Sherwood- Helen C. McCleary-Paul Reese- Aunt Kate, Mama, and Jamie- Ida Carleton Thallon- L. O. E.-Alice Mildred Blanke
and Co.-" Uncle Mung"-Chester B. Sumner--Stephen O. Hawkins-"Frely and the Gang"-Jay and I- Dudley and Maud
Banks-Jessie Chapman- Gail Ramond E. M. G.-" We Three"-" Leather-stocking "-" The Wise Five "-" Maine and Minne-
sota"-"Dad and Bill."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 15th, from Jack and Emma Schmidt, x Eleanor
Ogier, Florence B. Barrett, Fred. J. Emery, i- Elaine S., 2-Minnie and Lizzie, i-G. T. Shirley, 3--Henry H. Garrigues, i -
M. L. Evett, i-Eva Bowden, 2-"A Canadian Boy," 3-Helen McGuckin, --Minnie Lind, 3-Adele Carll, i-Maude E.
Palmer, 12-Jennie Thomas, I-A. H. R. and M. G. R., r2-E. H. C., i-"We Two," 4-"Cuban Giant," 3-Ruth Edmund-
son, I- Carrie Chester, 2-" Cuffs and Collars," I-L. H. K., 2-Alice C. Adenaw, 2--"Oliver Twist," 6-Adria and Ranee, 6-
"Broncho Harry," 6- Geo. S. Seymour, 6 Sallie, Rekah, and Maude, 6 Mama, Sadie, and Jamsie, 9-"Old Riddler," F. C.
Dutton, Charles Mench and Andrew Judson, i -" Infantry," 2- -" The Three Wise Ones," 6 -"Mr. Micawber," 3- Ida M.
Wilson, K. Valentine Langdon, 3- May G. Martin, 2- Two Little Brothers, 5--Eddie N. Moore, 8- Charles Shedd, i- Prentice
Rodgers, Jr., i Charlotte A. Peabody, 6 Ethel W. Davidson, I Tilda Wolfson, 5 Hubert L. Bingay, 8 Melville Hunnewell, 7 -
J. L. M., 8- G. R. W., 4 -Mavtie E. Simpson, i- Vincent Beede, 7-Welford P. Saroni, -John W. Thomas, --H. W. Plum-
mer, 2-Marguerite, Annie, and Emily, 6-Clara Mayer, 2-Bessie R. Crocker, xo-Mama and Harry, i--Mama and Karl, 5-
June, 9-Addison Neil Clark, 5-Arthur Barnard, --" Chloe 93," lo-Elizabeth C. Grant, 5-Rosalie Bloomingdale, 12-Rose
Ottolengin, 12-Jo and I, 12-Elizabeth, 7-D. A. and R. Huey, ni-Edith M. Newton, 5-Elinor Barras, 6-Anna and Marga-
ret, 2--".Two Sage Judges," 4-"We Girls,"9 -Adrienne 0. Forrester, 5-"Me and the Other Fellow," 2-Mama, Maude, and
Ethel, io-" Three Blind Mice," 5- Marie, I-E. C. D.,i Charles F. Bookinger, i Garret A. Randall, i.

ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. EACH of the objects shown in the accompanying illus-
tration may be described by a word of five letters.
When these are rightly guessed, and placed one below
6. 'another, in the order in which they are numbered, the
central letters, reading downward, will spell the name
of a famous naturalist who was born in May. M.

CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES.


I. UPPER SQUARE: I. A military title. 2. A lizard.
3. The sides of a door. 4. A game at cards. 5. De-
stroyed.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. A governor. 2. Custom.
3. Extensive. 4. Incited. 5. Pastoral pipes.
III. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. Flat round plates.
2. A kind of tape. 3. A quantity of yarn or thread.
4. Cuts. 5. Understanding.
IV. LOWER SQUARE: I. Drives along. 2. Droll. 3. A
fish. 4. More horrible. 5. To terrify.
"AUNT JOFINE."






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


DIAMOND.
I. IN Ceylon. 2. A tooth. 3. A feminine name. 4. A
chair fitted to the back of a mule, for carrying travelers
in mountainous districts. 5. A consequence. 6. A long
and narrow corridor. 7. Perceives. 8. To put to the test.
9. In Ceylon. H.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of fifty-one letters, and am a quotation
from Lord Chesterfield's works.
My 34-44-12-51 is stillness. My 10-25-49-29-21 is
to inscribe. My 17-23-31-39 is to gather. My 1-19-
15-7 is not any. My 5-38-9-45-32 is pertaining to a
very famous city. My 36-4-47-74 is an equal. My
24-48-20-42 is crooked. My 3-43-50-27-46 is one who
votes. My 22-11-37 is to repose. My 33-16-26-41-6
are sourids. My 30-13-2-40 was the vulnerable part of
Achilles. My 28-8-35-18 is to consider. POLLY.

DIAMONDS CONNECTED BY A CENTRAL
SQUARE.








.



*.









I. UPPER DIAMOND: I. In crumpets. 2. Unmean-
ing talk. 3. Themusical scale. 4. Contrivances for'tak-
ing pictures.. 5.An engraver's tool. 6. A color. 7. In
crumpets.
II. LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In'crumpets. 2. The
queen of the fairies. 3. Enchantment. 4. Tower-like
buildings of the Hindoos and Buddhists. 5. A small
horse. 6. An animal. 7. In crumpets.


III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. Persons called on to at-
tend a civil officer. 2. Frequently. 3. A beginning.
4. To work for. 5. To come in.
IV. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In crumpets. 2. A
vehicle. 3. A large, strong rope used by sailors. 4. A
vivid representation. 5. The cry of a sheep. 6. To
consume. -7. In crumpets.
V. LOWER DIAMOND: I. In crumpets. 2. The
name of a famous dog. 3. Values. 4. An idle talker.
5. To slander. 6. To behold. 7. In crumpets.
F. w. F.
WORD-SQUARE.
A LAND of fans will my first be found;
And birds are all my second;
To my third you are by honor bound;
My fourth a lagoon may surround;
And my fifth a name is reckoned.
ELDRED IUNGERICH.

RHOMBOID.

AcRoss: I. A stratum; 2. Nautical. 3. Rhythm.
4. A funeral song. 5. A furrow or band of fibers.
DOWNWARD: I. In eloquent. 2. A useful little arti-
cle. 3. A tropical plant4.4. Level. 5. One who rates.
6. A feminine name. 7. A tear. 8. An exclamation.
9. In eloquent. "NINA AND JEAN."
CONCEALED DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

ONE word is concealed in each sentence. When these
fourteen words are rightly guessed and placed one below
another, in the order here given, the initials will spell the
name of a famous author, and the finals, one of his best-
known books.
I. Alec approves of it all.
2. Had Jim his hat on yesterday?
3. I am going to a lecture.
4. Did you see the plaster of Paris katydid on the
high shelf.
5. Ethel owes me ten dollars.
6. He lies down all day, they say.
7. The sum actually amounted to four thousand
pounds.
8. This task I find irksome to a great degree.
9. I will make Jim pay up at once.
10. When he came, Ralph went out to meet him.
11. Take Ephraim home.
12. I wish I could see a gleam of sunshine.
13. Make those lines connect around that point.
14. Which do you like best- to sail or steam up the
broad Hudson? w. H. B.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


560




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