Front Cover
 The ship's colors
 The eve of the fourth
 A kitchen-garden conversation
 Waterspouts at sea
 Abijah's Fourth of July
 Toinette's Philip
 Festival days at girls' colleg...
 Saidie's flowers
 An American citizen
 The bear and his coat
 The white cave
 The children's building at the...
 Inanimate things animated...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00271
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00271
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
    The ship's colors
        Page 643
    The eve of the fourth
        Page 644
        Page 645
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
        Page 653
        Page 654
    A kitchen-garden conversation
        Page 655
    Waterspouts at sea
        Page 656
        Page 657
        Page 658
        Page 659
        Page 660
        Page 661
        Page 662
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
        Page 668
        Page 669
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
    Abijah's Fourth of July
        Page 673
    Toinette's Philip
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
    Festival days at girls' colleges
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
        Page 686
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
    Saidie's flowers
        Page 692
    An American citizen
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
        Page 696
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
        Page 700
        Page 701
        Page 702
    The bear and his coat
        Page 703
    The white cave
        Page 704
        Page 705
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
        Page 710
        Page 711
        Page 712
        Page 713
    The children's building at the Columbian exposition
        Page 714
        Page 715
    Inanimate things animated (Illustration)
        Page 716
    The letter-box
        Page 717
        Page 718
    The riddle-box
        Page 719
        Page 720
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


VOL. XX. JULY, 1893. No. 9.
Copyright, 1893, by THE CENTURY Co. Allrights reserved.



OH, sailor, young sailor, with tan on your cheek,
What flag is your schooner to fly at her peak?
SOh, Jack in blue jacket, I pray you,-declare
What colors your busy brown fingers prepare?

"What flag but the grandest?" my sailor-boy said:
"The star-spangled union, the stripes white and red;
The flower of all ensigns, the pride of the sky:
No. flag but 'Old Glory' my beauty shall fly!"

Oh, sailor, my sailor, you 've chosen, aright!
Thus prize it forever, that banner of light.
Each stripe has a meaning you yet cannot guess;
Each star is more sacred than words may express.

O'er desolate ice-fields,-'mid islands of palm,-
It lives through the storm, and it sleeps through the calm.
It guides, through the war-cloud, on perilous ways;
It decks the glad cities on festival days.

In far-away harbors, where many ships meet,
Where dark foreign faces look strange in the street,
The flag flaps a greeting, and kinsmen who roam
All bless the brave colors that tell them of home.

Wherever it flutters, the bride of the breeze,
A message of freedom it flings o'er the seas,
A hope for the world,-and the heart that beats true
Must leap at the sight of the red, white, and blue!


T was well on to-
ward evening before
this Third of July
all at once made it-
self gloriously differ-
ent from other days
in my mind.
There was a very
long afternoon, I
remember, hot and
overcast, with continual threats of rain which
never came to anything. The other boys
were too excited about the morrow to care
for present play. They sat instead along the
edge of the broad platform-stoop in front of
Delos Ingersoll's grocery-store, their brown
feet swinging at varying heights above the
sidewalk, and bragged about the manner in
which they expected to celebrate the anni-
versary of their Independence. Most of the
elder lads were very independent indeed; they
were already sure of their parents' permission
to stay up all night, so that the Fourth might
be ushered in with its full share of ceremony.
The smaller urchins pretended that they also
had this permission, or were sure of getting it.
Little Denny Cregan attracted admiring at-
tention by vowing that he should remain out,
even if his father chased him with a -police-
man all around the ward, and he had to go
and live in a cave in the woods until he was
grown up!
My inferiority to these companions of mine
depressed me. They were allowed to go with-

out shoes and stockings; they wore loose and
comfortable old clothes, and were under no
instructions to keep them dry or clean or
whole; they had their pockets literally bulging
now with all sorts of portentous engines of noise
and racket-huge brown "double-enders,"
bound with waxed cord; long, slim, vicious-
looking "nigger-chasers"; big "Union tor-
pedoes," covered with clay,-which made a
report like a great horse-pistol; -and so on
through an extended catalogue of strange and
dangerous explosives upon which I looked
with awe, as their owners from time to time
exhibited them with the proud simplicity of
those accustomed to greatness. Several of
these boys also possessed toy cannons, which
would, be brought forth at twilight. They
spoke firmly of ramming them to the muzzle
with grass, to produce a greater noise-even
if it burst the cannons themselves and blew
up the town.
By comparison, my lot was a sad one in-
deed. I was a solitary child, and a victim to
propriety. A blue necktie was daily pinned
under my broad collar, and there were gilt but-
tons on my Zouave-jacket. When we were
away in the pasture playground near the gulf,
and I ventured to take off my foot-gear, every
dry old thistle-point in the whole territory
seemed to arrange itself to be stepped upon
by my white and tender soles. I could not
swim: while my lithe, bold comrades dived out
of sight under the deep water, and darted
about chasing one another far beyond their


depth, I paddled timidly around the "babies'-
hole" close to the bank, in the warm and
muddy shallows.
Especially plain was my humble state on this
July afternoon. I had no double-enders," nor
might I hope for any, The mere thought of
owning a cannon seemed monstrous and un-
natural to me. By some unknown process of
reasoning my good mother had years before
reached the theory that a boy ought to have

1 ''

just two' packs of small fire-crackers on the
Fourth of July. Four or five succeeding an-
niversaries had hardened this theory into a
matter of faith, with all its details rigidly fixed.
The fire-crackers were bought for me over
night, and placed on the hall table. Beside
them lay a long rod of punk. When I has-
tened down and out in the morning, with these
simple things in my hands, the hired girl would
give me, in an old kettle, some embers from
the wood fire in the summer kitchen. Thus
furnished, I went into the front yard, and in
solemn solitude fired off these crackers one by
one. Those which, by reason of having lost

their tails, were fit only for "fizzes," I saved
till after breakfast. With the finishing of these,
I fell sadly back upon the public for amuse-
ment. I could see the soldiers, hear the band
and the oration, and in the evening, when
it did n't rain, enjoy the fireworks; but my
own contribution to the patriotic noise was
always over before the breakfast dishes had
been washed.
My mother scorned the little paper torpe-

does as childish and wasteful things. You
merely threw one of them, and it went off, she
said, and there you were. I don't know that
I ever entirely understood this objection, but
during my whole childhood it seemed unan-
swerable. Nor was it easy to budge my good
mother from her position on the great two-packs
issue. I seem to recall having successfully
evaded it once or twice, but two packs was
the rule.
When I ventured to call her attention to
the fact that our neighbor, Tom Hemingway,
thought nothing of exploding a whole pack
at a time inside their wash-boiler, she was not


dazzled, but only replied: "Wilful waste makes
woeful want."
Of course the idea of the Hemingways ever
knowing what want meant was absurd. They
lived a dozen doors or so from us, in a big
white house with stately white columns rising
from veranda to gable across the whole front,
and a large garden, flowers and shrubs in front,
fruit-trees and vegetables behind. Squire Hem-
ingway was the most important man in our part
of the town. I know now that he was never
anything more than a United States Commis-
sioner of Deeds,* but in those days, when he
walked down the street with his gold-headed
cane, his blanket-shawl folded over his arm,
and his severe, dignified, close-shaven face held
well up in the air, I seemed to behold a com-
panion of Presidents.
This great man had two sons. The elder of
them, De Witt Hemingway, was a man grown,
and was at the front, with the army of the
Potomac. I had seen him march away, over
a year before, with a bright drawn sword, at
the head of his company. The 'other son,
Tom, was my senior by only -a twelvemonth.
He was by nature proud, but often consented
to consort with me when the choice of better.
company was at low ebb.
It was to this Tom that I listened with most
envious eagerness, in front of the grocery-store
on the afternoon of which I speak. He did
not sit on the stoop with the others,- no one
expected quite that degree of familiarity,-
but leaned carelessly against a post, whit-
tling out a new ramrod for his cannon. He
said that this year he was not going to have
any ordinary fire-crackers at all; they, he
added with a meaning glance at me, were only
fit for girls. He might do a little in double-
enders," but his real point would be in ring-
ers"-an incredible giant variety of cracker,
Turkey-red like the other, but in size almost a
rolling-pin. Some of these he would fire off
singly-between the volleys from his cannon.
But a good many he intended to explode, in
bunches say of six, inside the tin wash-boiler,
brought out into the middle of the road for that
purpose. Maybe, it would blow the old thing
sky-high, but no matter. It was an old one.

Even as he spoke, the big bell in the belfry
of the town hall burst forth in a loud clangor of
swift-repeated strokes. It was half a mile
away, but the moist .air brought the loud
pealing sounds to our ears as if the tower
had stood close above us. We sprang off the
stoop and stood poised, waiting to hear the
number of the ward struck, and ready to
scamper off on the instant if the fire was any-
where in our part of the town. But the excited
peal went on and on, without a pause. It be-
came clear that this meant something besides a
fire. Some of us wondered vaguely what that
something might be, but we soon forgot it and
resumed our talking. Billy Norris, who was
the son of poor parents, but could whip even
Tom Hemingway, said he had been told that
the German boys on the other side of the gulf
were coming over to rush us on the follow-
ing day, and that we ought all to collect nails
to fire at them from our cannon. This we
pledged ourselves to do -the bell ceaselessly
keeping up its throbbing tumult
Suddenly we saw the. famnlinr figure of
Johnson running up the street toward us.
What his first name was I never knew. To
every one, little and big, he was just John-
son." He and his family had moved into our
town after the War began; .I fancy they moved
away again before it ended. I do not even
know what he did for a living. But he seemed
always idle, always noisily good-natured, and
always shouting out the news at the top of
his lungs. I cannot pretend to guess how he
found out everything as he did, or why, having
found it out, he straightway rushed homeward,
scattering the intelligence as he ran. Most
probably, Johnson was molded by Nature for a
town-crier, but by accident was born some gen-
erations after the race of bellmen had disap-
peared. Our neighborhood did not like him;
our mothers did not know Mrs. Johnson, and
we boys behaved rather snobbishly, I fear, to
his children. He seemed not to mind this at,
all, but came up unwearyingly to shout out the
tidings of the day for our benefit.
"Vicksburg's fell! Vicksburg's fell!" was
what we heard him yelling, as he approached.
Delos Ingersoll and his hired boy ran out of

* A minor official who witnesses the signing of certain legal papers.




the grocery. Doors opened along the street,
and heads were thrust out inquiringly.
"Vicksburg's fell! he kept hoarsely pro-
claiming, his arms waving in air, as he stag-
gered along at a dog-trot past us, and went
into the hotel next to the grocery.
I cannot say how definite an idea these tid-
ings conveyed to our boyish minds. I have a
notion that at the time I assumed that Vicks-
burg had something to do with Gettysburg,
where I knew from the talk of my elders that
a terrible battle had been going on since the
middle of the week. Doubtless this confusion

on .

was aided by the fact that an hour or so later,
on that same wonderful day, the wire brought
us word that this awful conflict on Pennsylva-
nian soil had at last taken the form of a Union
victory. It is difficult now to. see how we
could have known both these things on the
Third of July-that is to say, before the peo-
ple actually concerned seem to have been sure
of them. Perhaps it was only inspired guess-
work, but I know that my town went wild over
the news, and that the clouds overhead cleared
away as if by magic.
The sun did well to spread that summer sky
at eventide with all the pageantry of color the

rainbow knows. It would have been prepos-
terous that such a day should slink off in dull,
Quaker grays. Men were shouting in the streets
now. An old cannon left over from the Mexi-
can war had been dragged out on to the rick-
ety, covered river-bridge, and was frightening the
fishes and shaking the dry, worm-eaten rafters
as fast as swab and rammer could work. Our
town bandsmen were playing as they had never
played before, down in the square in front of the
post-office. Nature could not hurl into sunset
enough wild fireworks to fit our exultant mood.
The very air was filled with the scent of tri-
umph-the spirit of victory. It seemed only
natural that I should march off to my mother,
and quite boldly tell her that I desired to stay
out all night with the other boys. I had never
dreamed of daring to make such a request in
other years. Now I was scarcely conscious of
surprise when she gave her consent, adding with
a smile that I would be glad enough to come in
and go to bed before half the night was over.
I steeled my heart after supper with the
proud resolve that if the night turned out to be
as long as one of those Lapland winter nights
we read about in the geography, I still would
not surrender.
The boys outside were not so excited over
the tidings pf my unlooked-for victory as I had
expected them to be. They received the news,
in fact, with a rather mortifying coolness. Tom
Hemingway, however, took enough interest in
the affair to suggest that, instead of spending
my twenty cents in paltry fire-crackers, I might
go down-town and buy another can of powder
for his cannon. By doing so, he pointed out, I
would be a part-owner, as it were, of the night's
performance, and would be entitled to touch off
the cannon occasionally. This generosity af-
fected me, and I hastened down the long hill-
street to show myself worthy of it, repeating the
instruction of Kentucky Bear-Hunter, coarse
grain" over and over again to myself as I went.
Half-way on my journey I overtook a person
whom, even in the gathering twilight, I recog-
nized as Miss Stratford, the school-teacher. She
also was walking down the hill, and rapidly. It
did not need the sight of a letter in her hand to
tell me that she was going to the post-office.
In those cruel war-days everybody went to the



post-office. I myself went regularly to get our
mail, and to exchange the paper currency nick-
named "shin-plasters" for one-cent stamps, with
which to buy yeast and other commodities that
called for small change.
Although I was very fond of Miss Stratford,-
I still recall with tender liking her gentle eyes,
and pretty, rounded, dark face, in its.frame of
long, black curls,- I now coldly resolved' to
hurry past, pretending not to know her. It was
a mean thing to do. Miss Stratford had always
been good to me, shining in that respect in
brilliant contrast to my other teachers. Still,.
the" Kentucky Bear-Hunter, coarse grain" was
too important a matter to wait upon mere femi-
nine friendships, and I quickened my pace into
a trot, to scurry by unrecognized.
Oh, Andrew Is that you? I heard her
call out as I ran past. For the instant I thought
of rushing on as if I had not heard. Then I
stopped, and walked beside her.
I am going to stay up all night. Mother
says I may; and I am going to fire off Tom
Hemingway's big cannon every fourth time,
right straight through until breakfast-time," I
announced to her, loftily.
Dear me! I ought to be proudto be seen
walking with so important a citizen," she an-
swered, with kindly playfulness. She added
more. gravely, after a moment's pause: "Then
Tom is out, playing, too,-he is with the other
boys, is he?"
"Why, of course!" I responded. "He always
lets us stand round when he fires off his cannon.
He 's got some 'ringers' this year, too."
I heard Miss Stratford murmur an impulsive
"Thank Heaven!" under her breath.
Full as the day had been of surprises, I could
not help wondering that the fact of Tom's
ringers should stir up such strong feelings in
the teacher's mind. But since the subject so in-
terested her, I went on with a long catalogue
of Tom's other firework treasures, and from
that to an account of his almost incredible col-
lection of postage-stamps. In a few minutes
more, I am sure, I should have revealed to her
the .great secret of my life, which was my re-
solve, int case I came to be an emperor and
conqueror like, Napoleon, to make Tom at
.once a Marshal of the Empire.

But we had now reached the post-office
square, in the business center of the town. I
had never before seen it so full of people. -
Even to my boyish eyes the tragic line of
division which cleft this crowd in twain was
apparent. On one side, over by the Seminary,
the youngsters had lighted a bonfire, and were
running about it-some of the bolder ones
jumping through it in frolicsome recklessness.
Close by stood the band, now valiantly thump-
ing out "John Brown's Body" upon the noisy
night air. It was quite dark by this time, but
the musicians knew the tune by heart. So did
the throng about them, and sang it with lusty
fervor. The doors of the hotel. toward the
corer of the square were flung wide open.
Two black streams of men kept in motion
under the radiance of the big reflector-lamp over
these doors-one going in, one coming out.
They slapped one another on the back as they
passed, with exultant screams and shouts. Every
once in a while, when movement yas- for the
instant blocked, some voice lifted above the
others would begin "-Hip-hipf;ip-hip-" and
then would come a roar that fairly drowned the
On the post-office side of the square there
was no bonfire. No one raised a cheer. A
densely packed mass of men and women stood
in front of the big square stone building, with
its closed doors and curtained windows, upon
which, from time to time, the shadow of some
passing clerk, bare-headed and hurried, would
be for a moment thrown. They waited in si-
lence for the night mail to be sorted. If they
spoke to one another, it was in whispers-as if
they had been standing with uncovered heads
at a funeral service in a graveyard. The dim
light reflected over from the bonfire, or down
from the shaded windows of the post-office,
showed solemn, hard-lined, anxious faces. Their
lips scarcely moved when they muttered little
low-toned remarks to their neighbors. They
spoke from the side of the mouth, and only
on one subject:
"He went all through Fredericksburg with-
out a scratch-"
"He looks so much like me--General
Palmer told my brother he'd have known him
in a circus -"



"He 's been gone-let 's see,--it was a year
some time last April-"
"He was counting on a furlough the first of
this month. I suppose nobody got one as
things turned out-"
"He said,-'No; it ain't my style. I '11 fight
as much as you like, but I won't be nigger-
waiter for no man, captain or no captain-'"
Thus I heard the scattered murmurs among
the grown-up heads above me, as we pushed
into the outskirts of the throng, and stood there,
waiting with the rest. There was no sentence
without a "he in it. A stranger might have
fancied that they were all talking of one. man.
I knew better. They were the fathers and
mothers, the sisters, brothers, wives of the men
whose regiments had been in that horrible three
days' fight at Gettysburg. Each was thinking
and speaking of his own, and took it for granted
the others would understand. For that matter,
they all did understand. :The ton n knew the
name and family of every one of the twelve-
score sons it had in this battle.
It is not very clear to me now why people all
went to the post-office to wait for the evening
papers that came in from the nearest big city.
Nowadays they would be brought in bulk and
sold on the street before the mail-bags had
reached the post-office. Apparently, that had
not been thought of in our slow old town.
The band across the square had started up
afresh with "Annie Lisle,"-the sweet old
refrain of "Wave, willows; murmur, waters"
comes back to me now after a quarter-century
of forgetfulness,-when all at once there was a
sharp forward movement of the crowd. The
doors had been thrown open, and the hallway
was on the instant filled with a swarming
multitude. The band had stopped as suddenly
as it had begun, and no more cheering was
heard. We could see whole troops of dark forms
scudding toward us from.the other side of the
Run in for me-that's a good boy! Ask
for Dr. Stratford's mail," the teacher whispered,
bending over me.
It seemed an age before I finally got back to
her, with the paper in its postmarked wrapper
buttoned up inside my jacket I had never
been in so fierce and determined a crowd be-

fore, and I, emerged from it at last, confused in
wits and panting for breath. I was still looking
about through the gloom in a foolish way for
Miss Stratford, when I felt her hand laid sharply
on my shoulder.
S"Well-where is it ? Did nothing come?"
she asked, her voice trembling with eagerness,
and the eyes which I had thought so soft and
dove-like flashing down upon me as if she were
the cross teacher," Miss Pritchard, and I had
been caught chewing gum in school.
SI drew the paper from under my roundabout
coat, and gave it to her. She grasped the paper,
and thrust a finger under the cover to tear it off.
Then she heitatCd for a moment, and looked
about her. Come where there is some light,"
she said, and started up the street. Although
she seemed to have spoken more to herself
than to me, I followed her in silence, close at
her side.
For a long way the sidewalk in front of
every lighted store-window was thronged with
a group of people clustered tight about some
one who had a paper, and was reading from it
aloud. Besides broken snatches of this read-
ing we caught now groans of sorrow and
horror, now exclamations of proud approval,
and even the beginnings of cheers, broken in
upon by a general Hush !" as we hurried past
outside the curb.
It was under a lamp in the little park nearly
half-way up the hill that Miss.Stratford stopped,
and spread open the paper. I see her still,
white-faced under the flickering gas-light, her
black curls making a strange dark bar be-
tween the pale straw lat and the white of her
shoulder-shawl and muslin dress, her hands
trembling as they held up the extended sheet.
She scanned the columns swiftly, skimmingly
for a time, as I could see by the way she
moved her round chin up and down. Then
she came to a part which called for closer
reading. The paper shook perceptibly now,
as she bent her eyes upon it. Then all at once
it fell from her hands, and without a sound
she walked away.
I picked up the paper, and followed her
along the graveled path. It was like pursuing
a ghost, so weirdly white did her summer attire
now look to my frightened eyes, with such a




swift and deathlike silence did she move. The
path upon which we were, described a circle
touching the four sides of the square. She did
not quit it when the intersection with our street
was reached, but followed straight round again
toward the point where we had entered the
park. This too in turn .she passed, gliding
noiselessly forward under the black arches of
the overhanging elms. The suggestion that
she did not know she was going round and
round in a ring startled my brain. I would
have run up to her now if I had dared.
Suddenly she turned, and saw that I was
behind her. She sank slowly into one of the
garden-seats by the path, and held up for a
moment a hesitating hand toward me. I went
up at this, and looked into her face. Shad-
owed as it was, the change I saw there chilled
my blood. It was like the face of some one I
had never seen before, with fixed, wide-open,
staring eyes which seemed to look beyond me,
through the darkness, upon some terrible sight
no other could see.
"Go.-run and tell-Tom-to go home!
His brother-his brother has been killed," she
said to me, choking over the words as if they
hurt her throat, and still with the same strange
dry-eyed, far-away gaze, covering yet not see-
ing me.
I held out the paper for her to take, but she
made no sign, and I gingerly laid it on the seat.
beside her. I hung about for a minute or two
longer, imagining that she might have some-
thing else to say-but no word came. Then,
with a feebly inappropriate "Well, good-by," I
started off alone up the hill.
It was a distinct relief to find that my com-
panions were gathered at the lower end of the
common, instead of at their accustomed haunt
further up, near my home; for the walk had
been a lonely one, and I was deeply depressed
by what had happened.. Tom, -it seems, had
been called away about quarter of an hour be-
fore. All the boys knew of the calamity which
had befallen the Hemingways. We talked
about it from time to time, as we loaded and
fired the cannon which Tom had indifferently
turned over to my friends. It had been out
of deference to the feelings of the stricken
household that they had betaken themselves

and their racket of to the remote corner of the
common. The solemnity of the occasion si-
lenced criticism upon my conduct in forgetting
to buy the powder. There would be enough
as long as it lasted, Billy Norris said, with
wise decision.
We talked awhile upon the likelihood of De
Witt Hemingway receiving a military funeral.
These mournful processions had by this time
become such familiar things to us that the
prospect of one more had no element of ex-
citement in it, save as it brought a gloomy
sort of distinction to Tom. He would ride in
the first mourning-carriage with his parents, and
this would associate us, as we walked along
ahead of the band, with the most important
members of the procession. We regretted now
that the soldier-company which we had so long
meant to form remained still but a plan.
Had it been otherwise we would probably
have been awarded the head of the column in
the marching. Some one suggested that it was
not yet too late-and we promptly bound
ourselves to meet after breakfast next day to
organize and begin drilling. If we worked at
this night and day, and our parents at once
provided us with uniforms and guns, we should
be in time. It was also arranged that we
should be called the "De Witt C. Hemingway
Fire Zouaves," and that Billy Norris should
be side-captain. The chief command would,
of course, be reserved for Tom. We would
specially salute him as he rode past in the
closed carriage, and then fall in behind, form-
ing his honorary escort.
None of us had known the dead officer
well, owing to his greater age. He was seven
or eight years older than even Tom. But
the more elderly among our group had seen
him. play base-ball in the Academy nine, and
our neighborhood was still alive with legends
of his early audacity and skill in collecting
barrels and dry-goods boxes at night for elec-
tion bonfires. It was remembered that once
he carried away a whole front-stoop from the
house of a little German tailor on one of the
back streets. As we stood around the heated can-
non, in the great black solitude of the common,
our fancies pictured this redoubtable young man
once more among us not in his blue uniform,



with crimson sash and sword laid by his side,
and the gauntlets drawn over his lifeless .hands,
but as a taller and glorified Tom, in a rounda-
bout jacket and copper-toed boots, giving the
law on this his playground. The very cannon
at our feet had once been his. The night air
became peopled with ghosts of his own friends
-handsome boys who had grown up before us,
and had gone away, many of them to lay down
their lives in far-off Virginia or Tennessee.
These heroic shades brought drowsiness in
their train. We fell into long silences, varied
by yawns, when it was not our turn to ram.
and touch off the cannon. Finally some of us
stretched ourselves out on the grass, in the
warm darkness, to wait comfortably for this
turn to come.
What did come instead was daybreak=-
finding Billy Norris and myself alone constant
to our all-night vow. We sat up and shivered
as we rubbed our eyes. The morning air had a
chilling freshness that went to my bones and
these, moreover, were filled with those queer
aches and stiffnesses which beds were invented
to .prevent. We stood up, stretching out our
arms, and gaping at the pearl and rose begin-
nings of the sunrise in the eastern sky. The
other boys had all gone 'home, and taken the
cannon with them. Only scraps of torn paper
and tiny patches of burnt grass marked the site
of our celebration. -
My first weak .impulse was to march home
without delay, and: get into bed as quickly as
might be. But Billy Norris looked so finely res-
olute and masterful that I hesitated to sug-
gest this, and said nothing, leaving the first
word to him. One could see, by the merest
casual glance, that he was quite above thinking
any hour too early for him. I remembered now
that he was one of that remarkable body of
boys, the paper-carriers, who rose while all
others were asleep in their warm beds, and
trudged about long before breakfast, distribut-
ing the Clarion among the well-to-do house-
holds. This 'occupation had given him his
position in our neighborhood as quite the next
in leadership to Tom Hemingway.
He presently explained his plans to me, after
having tried the center of light on the horizon
where soon the' sun would be, by an old brass

compass he had in his pocket-a process by
which, he said, he could tell: pretty well %hat
time it was. The paper would n't be out for
nearly three hours yet,-and if it-were not for
the fact of a great battle there would have been
no paper at all on this glorious holiday,-but
he thought we would go down-town. and see
what was going on round about the news-
paper-office. Forthwith we started. He cheered
my faint spirits by assuring me that I would
soon cease to be sleepy, and would, in fact, feel
better than usual. I dragged my feet along at
his side, waiting for this freshness to come, and
meantime secretly yawning against my sleeve.
Billy seemed to have dreamed a good deal,
during our nap on the common, about the De
Witt C. Hemingway Fire Zouaves. At least
he had now in his head a carefully arranged
system of organization, which he explained as
we went along. I felt that I had never before
known his greatness, his born genius for com-
mand. His scheme halted nowhere. He gave
out offices with readiness and decision; he
treated the question of uniforms and guns as a
little detail that would settle itself; he spoke
with calm confidence of our offering our ser-
vices to the Republic in the autumn; his clear
brain found even the materials for a fife-and-
drum corps among the German boys in the.
back streets; It was true that I myself seemed
to play but a small part in these great pro-
jects: the most that was said about me was
that I might make a fair third corporal. But
Fate had thrown in my way such a wonderful
chance of becoming intimate with Billy, that I
made sure I should swiftly advance in rank--
the more so as I could see in the background
of his thoughts, as it were, a grim purpose to
make short work of Tom Hemingway's lofty
claims, once the funeral was over.
We were forced to make a circuit of the
park, on our way down, because Billy observed
some half-dozen rough boys at play with a can-
non, whom we knew to be hostile. If there
had been only four, he said, he would have
gone in and thrashed them. He could whip
any two of them, he added, with one hand tied
behind his back. I listened with admiration.
Billy was not tall, but he possessed great thick-
ness of chest and length of arm. His skin was



so dark that we boys spoke from time to time
of his having Indian blood. He did not dis-
courage this idea, and he admitted himself that
he was double-jointed.
The streets of the business part of.the town,
into which we now made our way, were quite
deserted. We went around into the yard be-
hind the printing-office, where the carrier-boys
were wont to wait for the press to get to work;
and Billy displayed some impatience at dis-
dovering that here too there was no one. It
was now broad daylight, but through the win-
dows of the composing-room we could see
a few of the
printers still set- -
ting type byker- .
osene lamps.
We seated our-
selves, at the end
of the yard, on a big, .
flat, smooth-faced stone,
and Billy produced t'r:m his
pocket a number of whair
he called "em qu.ad .," with
which the carriers had learn-
ed from the printer' s b o s to-
play a game called -- jefting."
You shook the pieces oii
metal in your hands. gnd
threw them on the stone;
your score depended upon
the number of ni,:ked -ides .-" .T
that were turned upFpermn,:t.
We played this game "- only
for fun" for a little while.
Then Billy told me that the
carriers played it for pennies-and that it was
unmanly for us to do otherwise. He had no
pennies at that precise moment, but would pay
at the end of the week what he might lose; in
the mean time there was my twenty cents to
go on with. After this Billy threw so many
nicks uppermost that my courage gave way,
and I made an attempt to stop the game; but
a single remark from him as to the military
rank which he was saving for me if I only
displayed true soldierly nerve and grit, was
enough to quiet me once more, and the play
went on.
Soon I had only five cents left.

Suddenly a shadow came between the sun-
light and the stone. I looked up, to behold
a small boy, with bare arms and a blackened
'apron, standing over me, watching our game.
There was a great deal of ink on his face and
hands, and a cold, not to say sly, expression
in his eye.
"Why don't you jeff with somebody of
your own size?" he demanded'-of Billy, after
having looked me over critically.
He was not nearly so big as Billy, and I ex-
pected to see the latter instantly rise and crush
him, but Billy only laughed and said we were


playing for fun; he was going to give me all
my money back. I was glad to hear this, but
still felt surprised at the wish to be friendly
shown by Billy toward this diminutive inky
boy. It was not the air befitting a side-cap-
tain-and what made it worse was that the
strange boy loftily declined to be moved by it.
He sniffed when Billy told.him about the mili-
tary company we were forming; he coldly
shook his head, with a curt "nixie! when in-
vited to join it; and he laughed aloud at hear-
ing the name our company was to bear.
He ain't dead at all that De Witt Hem-
ingway," he said, with jeering contempt.





"Hain't he, though 1" exclaimed Billy, scorn-
fully. The news came last night. Tom Hem-
ingway had to go home -his mother sent for
him-on account of it!"
I'11 bet you a quarter he ain't dead," re-
sponded the practical inky boy. Money up,
though! "
"I've only got fifteen cents. I'll bet you
that, though," rejoined Billy, producing my torn
and grimy shin-plasters.
"All right! Wait here!" said the boy, run-
ning off to the building and disappearing
through the door. There was barely time for
me to learn from my companion that this prin-
ter's-apprentice was called the devil," and
could both whistle between his teeth and
crack his fingers, when he reappeared, with a
long narrow strip of paper in his hand. This
he held out for us to see, indicating with an
inked forefinger the special paragraph we were
to read. Billy looked at it sharply, for several
moments, in silence. Then he said to me:
"What does it say there? I must have got
some powder in my eyes last night."
I read the paragraph aloud, not without an
unworthy feeling that the inky boy would now
respect me deeply because I could read:

CORRECTION.-Lieutenant De Witt C. Hemingway,
of Company A, -th New York, reported in earlier des-
patches among the killed, is uninjured. The officer miss-
ing is Lieutenant Carl Heinninge, Company F, of the
same regiment.

Billy's face visibly lengthened as I read this
out, and he felt us both looking at him. He
made a pretense of examining the slip of paper
again, but in a half-hearted way. Then he
ruefully handed over the fifteen cents, and,
rising from the stone, shook himself.
"Them Dutchmen never was no good!."
was what he said.
The inky boy had put the money in the
pocket under his apron, and grinned now with
as much enjoyment as dignity would permit
him to show. He did not seem to mind any
longer the original source of his winnings, and
it was apparent that I could not with decency
recall it to him. Some odd impulse prompted
me, however, to ask him if I might have the
paper he had in his hand. He was magnani-

mous enough to present me with the proof-
sheet on the spot. Then, with another grin, he
turned and left us.
Billy stood sullenly kicking with his bare
toes into a sand-heap by the stone. He would
not answer me when I spoke to him. It
flashed across my mind that he was not such
a great man, after all, as I had imagined. In
another instant or two it had become quite
clear to me that I had no admiration for him
whatever. Without a word, I turned on mr
heel and walked determinedly out of the yard
and into the street, homeward bent.
All at once I quickened my pace; some-
thing had occurred to me. The purpose thus
formed grew so swiftly that soon I found
myself running. Up the hill I sped, and
straight through the park. If the rowdy boys
shouted after me I knew it not, but dashed on
heedless of all else save the one idea. I only
halted, breathless and panting, when I stood
on Dr. Stratford's doorstep, and heard the
night-bell inside jangling shrilly in response to
my excited pull.
As I waited, I pictured to myself the old
doctor as he would presently come down, half
dressed and pulling on his coat as he ad-
vanced. He would ask eagerly, "Who is
sick? Where am I .to go?" and I would
calmly reply that he need not alarm himself,
but that I' had a message, for his daughter.
He would, of course, ask me what it was, and
I, politely but firmly, would decline to explain
to any one but the lady in person. Just what
might happen next was not clear-but I be-
held myself throughout master of the situation,
at once kindly, courteous, and firm.
The door opened with unexpected prompt-
ness, while my vision still hung in mid-air. In-
stead of the bald and spectacled old doctor,
there confronted me a white-faced, solemn-eyed
lady in a black dress, whom I did not seem to
know. I stared at her, tongue-tied, till she
said, in a low, grave voice:
"Well, Andrew, what is it?"
Then of course I saw that it was Miss Strat-
ford, my teacher-the person whom I-had come
to see. Some vague sense of what the sleepless
night had meant in this house came to me as
I gazed confusedly at her mourning-dress, and




heard no more than the echo of her sad tones
in my ears.
Is some one ill? she asked again.
"No; some one- some one is very well!'
I managed to reply, lifting my eyes again tc
her wan face. The sight of its drawn lines
and pallor overcame my wearied and overtaxec
nerves with sympathy for her. I felt myself
almost ready to whimper. Something inside
my breast seemed to be dragging me dowr
through the stoop.
I have now only the recollection of Mis,
Stratford's kneeling by my side, and thus un
rolling and reading the proof-paper I had ii
my hand. We were in the hall now, instead
of on the stoop, and there was a long silence
Then she put her head on my shoulder anc


THE Beetroot met the Celery-
"Good .morning!" said the sweet root;
Crisply the Celery replied,
"How are you, Mr. Beetroot?"

"I 'm weary, sir," said Mr. B.,
"Of living near to posies;
I 'm always hearing people praise
The lilies and the roses.

wept. I could hear and feel her sobs as if
they were my own.
"I-I did n't think you 'd cry-that you 'd
be so sorry," -I heard myself saying, at last,
in disappointed self-defense.
Miss Stratford lifted her head and, still
kneeling as she was, put a finger under my
chin to make me look her in the face. Lo!
the eyes were laughing through their tears:
the whole countenance was radiant once more
with the light of happy youth, and with that
other glory which youth knows only once.
Why, Andrew boy," she said, trembling, smil-
ing, sobbing, beaming all together, "did n't you
know that people cry for very joy sometimes ?"
And as I shook my head she bent down and
kissed me.

"That lily 's white and rose is red,
I know by observation,
But why don't folks give us our turn
Of ardent admiration?"

" Surely because," snapped Celery,
"They scarce see past their noses;
I 'm whiter than the lilies, sir -
You 're redder than the roses!"




HO has not
R noticed,dur-
in. a sultry
Summer after-
noon, the little
whirlwind in the
tw' road, -caused by
two breezes com--
ing down streets that come together ? First there
will be seen- a column of light. dust revolving
upward; next, moving here and there, it picks
up stray bits of paper and leaves; then, as
its whirling grows stronger and covers more
ground, it adds to its strange collection of
objects small sticks and tufts of grass; at last
away it goes, whirling and dancing its elfin
waltz until some immovable object interferes
with its freedom of movement, when, like a
spoiled child, it ceases its wild play, the whirl-
ing stops, and pouf down come the
sticks and leaves and paper, and the whirl-
wind is gone. In the Western States the same
kind of whirlwinds grow to such proportions
that through the thickest woods great tracks
are mown as if cut by a giant scythe. But
these big storms very appropriately receive the
more dignified name of tornadoes.
On the ocean, these whirlwinds or tornadoes
have, of course, no dust or trees to toss about
in their giant hands, so they seize upon and
suck up the water as the only plaything they
can find, and, twisting it into a long glittering
rope of trembling liquid, lift it up to the clouds,
whence it is soon dispersed again in the form of
rain. When performing such antics as these,
the whirlwind or tornado is known as a water-
The ship's crew which has so patiently steered
its craft by treacherous rocks, over dangerous
shoals, and through all kinds of storm and
stress at sea, is often confronted by a new and

unexpected danger-the waterspout. It most
often makes its appearance beneath a black
and lowering sky; but sometimes they start up
mysteriously in clear weather to move along the
ocean's rim in queer fantastic attitudes, looking
for all the world like captive balloons dancing
up and down, and tugging at their ropes-now
near the sea, now near the sky.
In the Straits of Malacca, and among the
many islands in the China Sea, they are greatly
dreaded by the peaceful fishermen, who must
often pull up anchor and race for the shore to
avoid the unwelcome approach of these giddy
visitors, who fly hither and yon at their own
sweet will, minus rudder or pilot. I have seen
a waterspout make for a large fleet of rice-
junks, and the scattering of the queer-looking
craft under their brown sails and dashing
sweeps looked comically like the flight of a
flock of startled quail.
Sometimes a spout can be broken by the
firing of a cannon close by; and then the sin-
gular spectacle will often be presented of the
upper half of it going up into the clouds, while
the lower part subsides into the sea. As most
Chinese junks carry a number of guns and
gongs, the waterspout often gets the worst of it
in the uproar that is certain to salute one.
The great four-masted American sailing ship
"Shenandoah," while coming home from Liver-
pool last March, had- a lively experience with
waterspouts. When within five hundred miles
of Sandy Hook, the wind suddenly changed, a
great bank of clouds just ahead parted, and
there, coming down, driven before the gale,
appeared six great waterspouts at one time.
One rushed by, just clearing the bowsprit and
head-sails by a few yards. Another came at
her amidships, threatening to carry the main-
mast away, and the captain just avoided by
quickly turning the ship toward and around it.
There were two more near ones, and as they


were too close to run away from, the big ship
was "luffed" up and steered right between
them. The ship was saved, but what her fate
would haye been had she been struck by one
can only be imagined from the captain's de-
scription of the waterspout that passed astern.
He "says it seemed to be fully twenty feet in
diameter, and of solid water reaching to the
During the same month the steamer
" Piqua" had a still more ,uncomfortable ex-
perience with these wandering giants of the

away, two of them made a rush, headed him
off, and struck the starboard side of the steam-
er's iron bow a tremendous blow. Then there
was a commotion indeed. The broken col-
umns of water dropped in tons on the forward
deck, smashing the pilot-house and bridge-lad-
der, tearing down thirteen ventilators, and dash-
ing to the deck two sailors badly wounded.
The ship staggered and rolled as the weight
of water poured over her sides in a Niagara
of foam and' spray, and for some time she
could make no headway.

7Irr sxA:x-



ocean, near the Bermuda Islands. There she
met a cyclone upon whose outer edge there
hung a great number of spouts--all dancing
and pirouetting here and there, twisting and
turning and balancing to partners as if engaged
in an elephantine quadrille.
The captain became bewildered, for which-
ever way he turned his steamer, he was headed
off by the surrounding waterspouts. At last,
just as he imagined he had steamed safely

While the two spouts were having their frolic
with the sorely beset steamer, the others were
whirling about as if dancing in glee at the
commotion they had caused. From the black
clouds above there shot down blinding streaks
of lightning, which, although they missed the
ship, so filled the air about her with electricity
that it settled upon the metal tips of all the
spars, glowing and sparkling there steadily with
the beautiful light known as St. Elmo's fire."

VOL. XX.-42.

- C~I-C4li~CI





IN enterprise and growth, Chicago is tlhe
most wonderful city on earth. No other can
compare with it. There is no tale in the
"Arabian Nights" half so marvelous as the
story of its change from a frontier fort into
the second city on the continent. And all this
has been accomplished within the memory of
men who are alive to-day.
Let me tell briefly what has taken place on
this spot where Chicago now stands. In 1673
Father Marquette, a Jesuit missionary, dis-
covered the upper Mississippi, having reached
it from Lake Michigan by way of the Fox and

Wisconsin rivers. He followed its course south-
ward as far as he dared go, then turned to re-
trace his steps. He was told by the Indians
that there was an easier route to the lake than
that by which he had come, and, heeding their
advice, he paddled up the Illinois River to the
Desplaines, and up the Desplaines to a point
where it flowed close to a stream which the
aborigines called Checagow, or Eschecagow.
Here he made a portage, and, following up the
Checagow, reached Lake Michigan again.
He was the first white man to set foot on
Chicago soil.

Several years afterward La Salle went to the
Illinois River by way of the Chicago portage,
and later it became the regular route from
Canada to the country of the Illinois Indians.

'I K
/ ~

grown beyond all expectations, and its people
were becoming ambitious for something more
than township organization. A charter was
secured from the State legislature, and the cor-
porate limits were adjusted to inclose an area
of ten and one half square miles.
Peck's "Gazetteer" of Illinois, published in
the latter part of 1837, made the following
reference to Chicago:
"Its growth, even for Western cities, has
been of unparalleled rapidity. In 1832 it con-
tained five small stores and two hundred and
fifty inhabitants. There are now about
sixty stores, thirty groceries, ten public-houses,
twenty-three physicians, forty-one lawyers, five
ministers, and about five thousand inhabi-
tants. The natural position of the place, the
enterprise and capital that must concentrate
here, with favorable prospects for health, must
soon make it the emporium of trade and busi-
ness for all the northern country."
Mr. Peck seems to have had a glimmering
conception of Chicago's future greatness, but
neither he nor anybody else dreamed of such a
future as has been realized. In 1838 a public
meeting was held to listen to a joint debate on
the political issues of the day, between Stephen
A. Douglas and his competitor for the honor
of a seat in Congress. It was a great occasion
S -- .

No settlement was made there, however; it
was merely a resting-place.
In 1804 the United States government, for
strategic purposes, built and garrisoned a fort
on the south bank of the Chicago River. John
Kinzie accompanied the troops, or followed
them, and established a trading station. He
was the first white settler. In 1812 the troops,
as they were preparing to leave the region,
were set upon by the Indians and massacred.
Some of the settlers perished with them, but
Mr. Kinzie and his family escaped. In 1816
the fort was rebuilt, and a new garrison put in
charge, and Mr. Kinzie returned and resumed
his operations in furs. Nothing of moment
occurred in the next fourteen years, except
the occasional arrival of settlers, most of whom
passed on and found homes farther west or south.
In 1831 the commissioners of the Illinois and
Michigan canal surveyed and laid out the town,
naming it Chicago. Prior to that time the
cluster of huts had been called Fort Dearborn
settlement. It is not likely that the com-
missioners were aware of their own wisdom in
selecting this site, or they might have been
more generous in allowing it room for growth.
As it was, they gave it only three eighths of a
square mile.
In 1833 the town was formally incorporated,
and a board of officers elected. The population
was then about 350. In 1835 it had increased
so greatly that it was found necessary to take
in enough new territory to swell the area to
two and one half square miles.
In 1837 Chicago became a city. It had

-- --- -
for the Chicago of that day, and the meet-
ing was a large one. Judge Henry Brown
presided. In introducing the speakers he re-
ferred to the city's progress. Then, warming
to his subject, and giving the rein to his ima-
gination, he uttered these historic words:

The illustrations on this page are redrawn, by permission, from "The History of
Cook County," by A. T. Andrews.





"The child is already born who will live to
see Chicago with a population of 200,000!"
The people who crowded the hall were as
loyal to Chicago, and as hopeful of is future,
as could be expected in that early day, but-
200,000! He might as well have said 200,-
ooo,ooo. It was absurd! Shouts of derisive
laughter drowned the judge's voice.
Nevertheless, a child born that day was
only twenty-eight years old when the 200,000
mark was passed. There were men at that


To-day, careful estimates place the popula-
tion at 1,400,000, and the probability is that it is
above rather than below that figure. The area
within the city limits is 181 square miles. There
is over $200,000,000 invested in manufactur-
ing industries, producing annually upward of
$550,000,000 worth of goods, and paying em-
ployees more than $100,000,000. The whole-
sale business of the city aggregates more than
$500,000,000, and its commerce more than
$1,500,000,000. Its meat products alone are



showing the population, at different stages of
the city's growth, from that time to this:

1837 ....... 4,I70
1843 ........ 7,580
1845 ........ 12,088
1847 .... ... 16,859
1849 ........ 23,047
1850 ........ 29,963
1853 .... 59,130
1855........ 80,000ooo
1856 ........ 84,113
186 ........ 109,206

1862....... 138,186
1864 ....... 169,353
I866....... 200,418
1868....... 252,054
1870....... 306,605
1872....... 367,396
1874....... 395,408
1876....... 420,000'
188o ....... 503,185
1890....... 1,098,576

\ nlued it $1' .,oo,-
00.:.. The bank
clearings are nearly
$5,000,000,000 a
year. Over $60,-
ooo,ooo has been

invested in public schools, whose maintenance
costs from $5,000,000 to $6,000,000 a year.
There are 800 private schools, 350 seminaries
and academies, and four universities. The pub-
lic library contains nearly 200,000 volumes, and
has a circulation greater than that of any
other in the United States. The other libraries
of the city are estimated to contain over 3,000,-
ooo volumes. There are over 900 daily and
weekly papers and periodicals, and 700 literary
organizations. There are about 600 churches.

meeting who lived
to see a population
exceeding ,ooo0,-
ooo. Hereisatable

F; TT~




Over $300,000,000 has been expended in the
construction of buildings since 1876, and the
annual expenditure for this purpose is between
$45,000,000 and $55,000,000.
I have said that there is something like
destiny in this unexampled development. So
there is; but destiny is merely another name
for natural law.
Here was a continent, vast in extent, rich in
resources, inhabited only by savages, unknown
to the rest of the world. A daring navigator,
inspired by faith in a theory, sailed from Spain
into the unexplored west--sailed until he found
land. Then came the adventurous of all civil-
ized nations, hardy men who left their impress
wherever they set, foot. The natives were
killed, driven away, or subjugated, and the soil
became the prey of the invaders. These new
lords of the land warred and negotiated, and
warred again over the division of the spoils,
and in the end the continent became Anglo-
Saxon. Its future was then assured.
In the center of this continent was a great
inland water-system, with limitless possibilities
for commerce. To the terminal point of this

system all things gravitated. Curiously enough
nature had made it also the terminus of
another water-system. To the east and north
of it lay the
lakes; to the
west and south -
of it the rivers;
it was the por-
tage, the con-
necting link, be-
tween the two
highways. Here'
there .i bound
to be some day i I
a city, and its ''
increase was
bound'to keep .
pace with the 7
growth of the .
territory around "
it- that terri-
tory more than
half of a great THE GREAT FIRE STARTED.
continent. Its existence was to become a com-
mercial necessity; its development was to be



the necessary result of the development of the
At this central point, therefore, in obedience
to a power beyond the control of the sturdy
men who were its instruments, Chicago arose.
There it stands to-day. It has been prostrated
by war and by fire, but calamity was powerless
to check its progress. The same power that
gave it life and a purpose gave it citizens
endowed with the courage, strength, endu-
rance, energy, enterprise, and nervous force
needed for the maintenance of that life and
the accomplishment of that purpose. There
came to it only the daring among men, the
Norsemen of business. They were capable
of giving it the position in the commercial
world that the race of the old Vikings held
in the world of warriors. This is the whole
secret of Chicago.
The first thing that impresses a stranger in


the city is the magnitude and magnificence of
the buildings in the business districts. The fire
of 1871, the most disastrous conflagration in
history, was not without compensating fea-
tures. It gave the world an opportunity to
show its generosity; it gave the people of Chi-
cago a chance to show the world the clear grit

that lay at the bottom of all their under-
takings; and, finally, it. cleared the way for a
better class of structures. For a time, it is
true, buildings were thrown up regardless of
appearances, of stability, or of anything except
speed. They were in the nature of shelter-
sheds. Winter was approaching, and business
could not be carried on in the open' air.
Neither could it be conducted to advantage
at points remote from the natural center of
commerce. It was necessary to provide stores
and warehouses and offices, and to do so at
once. Before the debris was cool, while the
bricks and stones that lay in confused heaps
all over the burned district were still so hot
that they could not be handled without gloves,
thousands and thousands of men set to work
to rebuild the city. There was no dearth of
laborers, for in the absence of more congenial
employment, or in the desire to aid in hasten-
ing the restoration, an army of
clerks, bookkeepers, cashiers,
salesmen, school-teachers, and
others who had never known the
use of their muscles, armed them-
selves with saws and hammers
and trowels, and gave their ser-
vices to the master-builders. Be-
sides, every train that entered
the city from the East brought
reinforcements of skilled artis-
ans. Buildings rose like magic,
the owners or lessees moved in
and business was resumed.
Gradually these temporary make-
shifts were torn down and re-
placed by more substantial edi-
fices, and it is doubtful whether
a single block that was pushed
to completion within the three
months succeeding the fateful
AGO. 9th of October now remains
standing. Indeed, many that
were built in the next four years, in the expec-
tation that they would serve for several decades,
have also disappeared, and the rest are fol-
lowing in their wake.
It was in 1876, when the people had re-
covered in a measure from the effects of the fire,
-or rather of both fires, for there was another



X893.] CHICAGO. 03
serious conflagration in July, 1874,-that the terra-cotta or brick, which serves to keep out
new. era began to dawn. Since then more the weather and presents an attractive appear-
than $350,000,000 has been expended in build- ance. Even where -the walls are of solid
ings. With this enormous sum of money at masonry, as is the case with numbers of the



SResidence of Mr. George M. Pullman.

their disposal, architects and engineers had an
incentive to .study and work such as they had
never had before, and they evolved methods of
construction far superior to any that had been
followed in the past. Under the new system
wood has been discarded wherever iron can be
made to serve the purpose, and iron is rapidly
giving way to steel. In the best buildings all
beams and supports are now made of steel,
which is manufactured into all the shapes
needed for the framework. No metal is used
until it has been thoroughly tested by experts;
in fact, this is true of all the material used.
The frame is erected entirely independent of
the walls, which are expected to contribute
nothing to the strength of the structure. In
many cases these are merely a tlhin mask of

finest buildings, the same frame-plan is adopted.
Architects now say that there is no such thing
as an absolutely fire-proof building; but our
large structures are made as nearly fire-proof as
is practicable. Every iron or steel pillar, every
support, every floor-beam, everything, in fact,
that can be injured by heat is inclosed in a cov-
ering of terra-cotta, from which it is separated
by air-chambers. No ordinary fire would be
likely to do serious damage to a building so
carefully guarded.
The foundation problem used to be a serious
one. Chicago was originally a low, marshy
tract of land, and although it is now dry enough
and raised an average of twelve feet above its
old level, it does not everywhere afford sub-
stantial support. Driving piles into the soft


places was tried, but the results were not satis-
factory. Big buildings settled so much and so
unevenly that their appearance was marred,
and their stability threatened. The post-office
is a notable example. Its walls are cracked in
scores of places, and its total collapse is one of
the possibilities which the occupants have to
face every day. If it were the property of the
city, or even of individual citizens.
it v.ould be torn dotrn. Unfor-
tun.itel, it belongs to the United
St.i tes: therefore it stands, a men- k''Z,
a,:e to lie., and an offense in the
silit of all beholders. Ho,"ever,
so far as local buildings are con- L'
cerned, the foundation problem has
been okl\ed. The present plan is
to make a suib-fuundaion of steel
rails and concrete. The rails are

speaking of a few characteristic buildings.
There is the Auditorium, for example,, the
grandest edifice of its class in all the world, and
a monument to the public spirit of the wealthy
men of Chicago. A few years ago the idea
came to a gentleman of means and leisure that.
the city needed an opera house.' There were
theaters in plenty, but not one of them was

(From photographic prints. By permission of C. Ropp & Sons,
laid side by side,. and close together, until a suf-
ficiently large surface has been covered, and the
spaces between them are filled in with concrete.
Then another layer of rails and concrete is
placed crosswise on top of .the first. A third
layer is placed on the second, and so on until
in the opinion of the engineers it will bear the
required weight. The foundation proper is built
upon this underground structure. Some of the
tallest sky-scrapers in the city rest upon steel-
rail beds, and none of them has settled to an
appreciable degree.
It is not desirable in a general article of
this kind to deal very largely with details, yet it
would be a pity to leave this subject without

Z especially adapted for the produce.
rion of grand opera. He laid the
matter before, the nemnbers of the
Commercial Club at one of the
montht!y dinner_; and it was
fa,.ora:bl, received. Three years
later the Auditolrium \.as endedne d
to the public. The building con-
sists of five departments, so to
:hicago.) speak. First there is the Audi-
torium, or opera house, capable of seating 4000
people, with an enormous stage, and the best
mechanical appliances that human ingenuity
has devised. The acoustic properties are simply
perfect. Second, there is Recital Hall, a lecture
or music room with a seating capacity of 500.
Third, the Auditorium Hotel, with 400 guest-
rooms, and the most elaborate appointments
that money could procure. Fourth, the obser-
vatory tower, from which, on clear days, a fine
view of the city can be obtained; and finally,
the stores and offices, consisting of 136 rooms
and suites. The main building is ten stories
high, and the tower ten higher. The total
height is 270 feet. The street frontage, on three


(From a photograph by J. W. Taylor.)

(From a photograph by J. W. Taylor.)

(From a photographic print. By permission ofC. Ropp &
Sons, Chicago.)

(From a photographic print. By permission of C. Ropp & Sons,


streets, is over 700 feet. The first and second
stories are built of granite, and the remaining
eighteen of building-stone. The' interior ma-
terial is iron, brick, terra-cotta, marble, and
various kinds of hard wood. The floors are of
mosaic, made up of 50,000,000 pieces, each put



in place by hand. The cost of the building was
$3,500,000; of the ground on which it stands,
Its immensity, the richness and beauty of its
interior decoration, the wealth of marble, and
bronze, and rare woods, the luxuriousness of its
furnishings, all combine to make it a palace
such as no Oriental monarch ever dreamed of

possessing. It has been said that this build-
ing "is representative of Chicago as a city,
where art, beauty, and utility are so strongly
defined, though nearly always blended, on every
The Masonic Temple, whose twenty stories
seem to reach up into
the clouds, owes its
existence to the desire
of the various masonic
bodies to get together
under one roof. The
idea of a grand temple
had been talked of for
twenty years or more;
Sbut no beginning was
made until four years
ago. One day, about
the close of 1889, a
meeting was held to
consider the subject,
and a committee was
appointed and author-
ized to "go ahead." It
did go ahead, and in
the spring of 1892 the
temple was dedicated.
Like the Auditorium,
like most of the finer
buildings in the city, its
interior is rich in mar-
ble.and mosaic. Exte-
riorly, the first three
stories are built of red
granite; the others of
gray brick. A peculiar
feature of its construc-
tion is that the first
eleven stories are fitted
up for shops, a new
D OF TRADE BUILDING. arrangement which the
high rentals of ground-
floor stores has brought about. Between the
eleventh and sixteenth floors it is arranged for
offices. Above the sixteenth story everything
is devoted to masonic purposes except the roof,
which has been converted into an observatory.
Among office buildings, of which there are
a great many, the Rookery takes the highest
rank. Its name is reminiscent. Shortly after the



8s93.] CHICAGO.
fire the city erected a -
two-story brick build-
ing for temporary use
as a city hall and court-
house. It was a cheap.
affair, and soon ----- ---
fell into decay.
Thenewspaper __
reporters called
it a "rookery,"
and the name
stuck. Its site
was leased to
the owners of the present
building, and the name seems
to have gone with the lease.
And, by the way, this is not
the only instance of the kind.
The Chamber of Commerce"
building, an office building that
rivals the Rookery both in size
and beauty, derives its name
from the fact that it stands on
the site and is partly constructed
out of the material of the old
Chamber of Commerce. The
new Chamber of Commerce is
now known as the Board of
Trade building, and is one of
the finest grain markets, if not
the finest, in the world.
The Rookery is an imposing
edifice, in which granite, marble,
mosaic, and oak have been used
to the very best advantage, for
both durability and appearance. --- --
It is eleven stories high, and -
contains 600 offices.
It must not be supposed that these few struc-
tures represent all the types that are to be found
in the city. By no means. I have said nothing
about the mammoth wholesale and retail stores,
nothing about the warehouses, the social clubs, the news-
paper offices, the hospitals, the railway stations, the schools,
colleges, and seminaries; nothing about the churches or
the dwellings; I have not even breathed the names of
the World's Fair buildings. When the readers of ST.
NICHOLAS come to Chicago, as they surely will come, and
look upon the miles and miles of stately monuments to
human industry and enterprise, they will understand how


S WoFs COmi EME.



utterly impossible it is to do
more than refer to them in
a general way.
But the crowning glory of
Chicago is its park system.
Suppose old London had "
been encircled
by a broad drive-
way, smooth as
a drawing-room
floor, thirty or
forty miles in ex-
tent, and running
into and through
vast and wonder-
ful parks. Then,
suppose that the
city extended j
about this encir-
cling belt and its green oases. Something like curred to the right man at the right time,
that exists in Chicago to-day. and that it should have met with the popular
I do not know who devised this favor and support needed to make
remarkable system. The its realization a success. When
curious thing is that the system was still in its
it should have oc- infancy,- it is not beyond

- .-.


its youth now,-it seemed impossible enough,
and there were many blind mortals who com-
plained that the parks were too far away from
the city to be of use as breathing places for the
masses," as the newspapers called the parks.
No such complaint could be made now. The
park that is most remote from the center of
the city is still more remote from the city limit
that lies beyond it. The most extensive park and
boulevard system known threatens to become, at
no distant date, altogether too small for Chicago.

the West Park Board obtained 566 acres
which they divided into Douglas Park, Gar-
field Park and Humboldt Park. At the
time, Lincoln Park was in the extreme north-
eastern corner of the city, Jackson and Wash-
ington Parks at the southeastern, while a line
drawn from Humboldt Park through Garfield
Park, and terminating in Douglas Park, defined
the western limit. A dozen or more smaller
parks, varying in size from half an acre to
twenty acres each, and scattered throughout


The original plan, which has never been
departed from, was to establish large parks in
the outlying region to the north, west, and
south, and connect them by a series of boule-
vards. The requisite legislation for the crea-
tion of three park boards-one for each division
of the city-and for the levying of an annual
tax was secured, and the work was begun.
On the North side, the Lincoln Park Board
got possession of the old city cemetery and
enough contiguous property to make up the
250 acres now known as Lincoln Park; the
South Park Board purchased 1037 acres
which they converted into Washington Park,
Jackson Park, and the Midway Plaisance;

the city, bring the total area of park lands up
to about 2000 acres. This does not include
the boulevards, which are about thirty miles
long. These are now completed, forming the
finest driveway in the world. With a good
team of trotters a person may start from the
Lake Front Park, in the center of the city-
and opposite some of the best hotels-drive
south on Michigan Avenue Boulevard to
Thirty-fifth street; thence to Grand Boule-
vard, which leads to Washington Park;
through Washington Park, westward, to Gar-
field Boulevard, and thence to Gage Park;
through Gage Park and north on Western
Avenue Boulevard and Douglas Boulevard to




Douglas'Park; thence along the western and
northern extension of Douglas Boulevard to
Garfield Park; along Central *Park Boulevard
to Humboldt Park; north and east by Hum-
boldt Boulevard and- Diversey Avenue Boule-
vard to Lincoln Park; and south along the
Lake Shore drive, Rush street, and Michigan
Avenue to the .starting-point. He may make
this circuit in an afternoon, and return his
horses to the stable in good condition. The
roadway is so smooth, and.the going so easy,
that the same team might make the trip twice
a day and be none the worse for it.
It is not unlikely, however, that a stranger
would have to make several attempts before
he could accomplish the entire distance in the
specified time. There is so much on the way
that is worth seeing, and the parks are so
interesting and attractive, that the temptation
to make-long stops at short intervals would
be too great to be resisted. Broad, velvety
green fields, beautiful shade trees, artificial
lakes which afford facilities for boating in
summer and skating in winter, ornamental
beds of rare flowers, greenhouses filled with
tropical plants, serpentine walks and drives,
combine to lure people from the noise, and
dust, and worry of a crowded city. The con-
servatories are especially rich in their variety
of plants. Among the specimens to be seen
in that at Lincoln Park are a sago palm more
than a century old, brought from Mexico, a
tree fern fifteen feet high, and a date palm.
Much attention has been given to the cultiva-
tion of water lilies, and almost every known
variety is now to be found in the ponds. The
Victoria regia, whose leaves spread out to a
breadth of six or seven feet and turn up at the
edges, giving them a tub-like appearance, has
been very successfully grown. Garfield Park
has the largest collection of orchids.
I have no hesitation in saying that with the
young, Lincoln Park is more popular than any
other, or, indeed, than all the others. It is not
so much its beauty, although it is unsurpassed
in that respect, as its fine collection of wild
animals that forms the attraction. The members
of the Lincoln Park Board seem to understand
children, and for their benefit have acquired
quite a large menagerie. Among other animals

it has a small herd of buffaloes,-one of the
few bunches left to remind us of the countless
thousands that once roamed the Western plains.
There are also deer of several kinds, bears,
wolves, lynxes, wildcats, rabbits, prairie-dogs,
guinea-pigs, and even white rats and mice. It
once had a large drove or school of sea-lions,
which made night hideous to the entire North
side with their peculiar and incessant barking.
Some died, others made. their escape to Lake "
Michigan, and now only two or three specimens
remain. Two large African lions occupy one
of the cages.
Another attraction in this park, -to grown
people as well as to children, is the electrical
fountain. This fountain usually plays for two or
three evenings a week during the summer, and
it draws thousands of spectators. In this park,
also, is the equestrian statue of Grant, which
was erected by popular subscription. A large
bronze statue of Lincoln- occupies the most
prominent position near the southern entrance.
Statuie. of Shakspere, Schiller, Linnaeus, and
La Salle, and one of a group of Indians, are
also to be found there. Others intended for
this park are now in the hands of the sculptors.
It may interest some of the boys who read
ST. NICHOLAS to know that Lake Michigan
teems with perch, which seem not only willing
but anxious to be-caught." The entire lake-
front of the city, for a distance of about twenty
miles, is protected from the waves by a line of
breakwater, upon which, when the wind is
westerly or southerly, thousands of men and
boys, and sometimes women and girls, may be
seen with rods and lines trying to lure the little
fellows from the watery depths. I do not know
whether perch-fishing is a sport or an industry;
it partakes of the nature of both. If you wish
to get the best fishing, take passage on one of
the little pleasure-steamers- that lie opposite the
Lake Front Park, and go out to the govern-
ment pier, or breakwater, a mile from the shore.
You need not encumber yourself with fishing
tackle, for you will find on the pier men who
make their living by renting rods and lines, and
selling minnows for bait. The charges trifling.
It is not an unusual thing for boys to catch, in
a few hours, strings of fifty or sixty perch each.
Sometimes men are as forttinate, but not often;




boys are always luckier than men in fishing.
I remember one day seeing a very nice old gen-
tleman sitting on the pier with his grandson, a
little boy not more than seven years old. The
gentleman was an expert angler, knew all about
trout and black bass and maskalonge, and had
gone out to give the boy his first lesson in sport.
It was sport-for the boy, and also for the

water that are well stocked with bass, pickerel,
and pike. The State line which divides Indiana
from Illinois- from Chicago, in fact- runs
through the middle of Wolf Lake. These lakes
used to be famous breeding-grounds for wild
ducks, and some still breed there, though the
numbers have greatly diminished. In the spring
or fall, however, ducks stop there on their


spectators. The boy caught a fish at least once
every minute or two, but his grandfather never
got a bite.
Chicago, by the way, is very favorably situ-
ated for sport both with rod and gun. One need
not go beyond the city limits to get either game
fish or game birds. I have said that the area
of the city is 181 square miles, but it must not
be supposed that all this territory is covered
with buildings. The open spaces are rapidly
diminishing, and in time will disappear, but
there still remains a large unoccupied tract to
the south and southeast, in which are located
Calumet Lake, Hyde Lake, and about one
half of Wolf Lake, three small inland bodies of

northern or southern flight, and furnish good
shooting for a few days. The only drawback
is that the place is too accessible; a street-car
or any one of half a dozen suburban trains will
take the sportsman within easy walking-distance
of the lakes. The consequence is that there are
too many shooters, and the lakes are "burnt
out"; that is to say, the birds are frightened
away from the country by the noise and smoke.
The lands near to these lakes are low and
marshy, and make good feeding-grounds for the
jacksnipe, so called; really his name is "Wilson's
snipe." There is no finer sport than snipe-shoot-
ing, and good bags are frequently made on
these grounds. In this advantage Chicago is


probably unique; it is not likely that there is
another large city that can furnish: duck- and
snipe-shooting, and occasionally goose-shoot-
ing, within its corporate boundaries.
Thus far, except for this digression into the
lakes and fields, I have' spoken only of the
material development' of the city. But there
is a higher development, the intellectual and
moral, the progress in literature, art, and science.
Just as the material growth of the city is the
result of the material growth of the conti-
nent, so this intellectual growth is the result
of the material growth. One follows the other
as naturally as day follows night.
A few years ago Charles Dudley Warner
visited Chicago, and after a stay of several
weeks'wrote his impressions. He praised the
enterprise and energy of the people, but con-
fessed that they lacked the culture of their
brothers and sisters in the East; they had been
too busy to devote much time to polish. How-
ever, he said that if Chicago ever gave its mind
to that subject it "would make culture hum."
I suppose Mr. Warner, by this jest, meant to
imply that if Chicago people sought to acquire
culture, they would acquire it with a rush. More
recently, discussing the future literary center
of the United States, Mr. Warner said:
Boston cooks better than it once did; it also is rich,
and more than half of its population is foreign. Is its
literary publishing and production on the wane? And is
it about to pass on the torch of literature to New York?
Why not to Chicago? This is an imprudent question,
for if the attention of Chicago is attracted to this open-
ing, if it is convinced that literary supremacy is a good
thing to have, it will snap it up in twenty-four hours.
But while the attention of Chicago is otherwise engaged
there is a chance for New York.
It is likely that Mr. Warner had written more
wisely than he knew. Chicago moves, and has
always moved, by impulse. Its career has been
a series of impulses. The commercial impulse
gave it being, and made it the second city in
the country in a period briefer than the lifetime
of an ordinary man. The building, impulse
made it in less than twenty years the best-built
city in the world. Now there are unmistakable
signs of :literary, art, and scholastic impulses.
They are surely coming. If, as its citizens be-
lieve, Chicago is destined to be the metropolis

of the continent, then it is also destined to be
the center of literature, of art, of education, of
There has sprung up in the city within a year
one of the greatest universities in America, en-
dowed with millions of money, and equipped
with instructors selected from the world because
of their especial fitness for the work in hand.
Only the other day, as it were, one of Chicago's
wealthy men conveyed to a board of trustees a
building which he had just completed at a cost
of $r,500,000, and with it gave his check for
$1,400,000 with which to equip and maintain
it as an industrial and scientific institute. Libra-
ries have been, founded and endowed, and have
grown with a growth that has nowhere else
been seen. The Chicago Public Library,
founded little more than twenty years ago, has
acquired a circulation greater than that of any
other in the country. The Newberry Library,
endowed by the bequest of a citizen, is becoming
one of the great reference libraries of the world.
The Crerar Library, endowed by the will of
another deceased citizen, is in process of forma-
tion. The largest single purchase of books that
was ever known-300,ooo volumes-has just
been made for the library of the Chicago Uni-
versity. The private libraries of the city are
little known to the public, but they will com-
pare favorably with the finest collections of
New York, or Boston. The largest and most
complete bookstore in the world is in Chicago.
The newspapers have been as marvelous in
their development as the city itself, and from
these newspapers, from the ranks of their re-
porters and editors, are coming writers whose
strong and virile work will make a lasting im-
pression upon the literary world.
Chicago has'a way of attending to a great
many things at once.
All things are possible in a city situated as
Chicago is situated. Impelled by the force of
natural law, it will become the center of in-
dustry, of commerce, of art, of literature, of
science, and of education. Not one century or
two centuries hence, but to-morrow, in a year,
in ten years-when the impulse shall be felt-
all this will come to pass.





ABIJAH STONE strolled off alone
While yet the morn was hazy;
The neighbors' boys made such a noise,
They almost drove him crazy.

"But think it is a sin, sir,
.y, .4 / .To spoil July's sweet jubilee
By making such a din, sir!"

So, in a nook beside a brook,
Serenely sound asleep, sir,
Abijah lay the livelong day,
Curled in a little heap, sir;
While in the town the brass bands
And cannon boomed like thunder,
Until a very small boy made
A most tremendous blunder.

For, just at dark, he dropped a spark
Where sparks are very worst, sir;
A blinding flash- a frightful crash--

A powder-keg had burst, sir!
Abijah found but scattered shreds
When he returned to town, sir,
And people standing on their heads
Where they had just come down, sir !

V. XX.-43 673
VOL. XX.--43. 673


Author of "Lady Jane."

[Begun in the May number.)
WHEN Dea reached the small cottage on
Viller6 street, where she had passed most of
the years of her sad little life, she pushed open
the creaking gate impetuously, and, closely fol-
lowed by Homo, ran swiftly up the grass-grown
brick walk to the door.
"Papa, Papa," she called, placing her lips to
the key-hole, "it's me-it's Dea. Do let me
After a few moments of impatient waiting,
the child heard a slow, listless step approach-
ing, and a hand that seemed weak and trem-
bling turned the key and opened the door
cautiously. In the aperture appeared' a wan,
bearded face with hollow eyes and tangled hair.
"Papa, oh, Papa, just see what I 've got!"
cried Dea, darting through the narrow opening.
"I 've sold Quasimodo, and I 've brought you
something to eat."
The man looked at her silently, in a dazed,
helpless, sort of way, pressing his hand to his
head as if he were trying to collect his thoughts
and awaken his memory.
The child was breathless and exhausted from
her running; but she closed the door, set down
her basket, and then hastened to open one of
the blinds, for the room was nearly dark. Then,
drawing a chair up to a large table which was
covered with books and papers, as well as a
number of small wax figures in different stages
of progress, she cleared from one corner of it
the numerous articles of her father's craft, and
spreading out the napkin containing the food
that Seline had given her, she turned to her
father, and putting her arm around him, led
him to the chair and gently seated him.
For a moment he looked at the food silently,
while the tears rolled slowly down his thin

cheeks. "Is it for me ? he whispered, at
"Yes, Papa; it 's for you-it 's all for you."
"No, no. You must eat it, Dea; you are
"I have had my breakfast, Papa. This is for
you. Eat it, and see how nice it is," urged the
child, as she selected a tempting morsel, and
held it toward him.
"I 'm not hungry; I can't eat. I 'm too ill
to eat."
"Dear, dear Papa, do try! I brought it for
you. And I have sold Quasimodo; look, cher,
look at the money." She put her arm around
his neck, and held the note before him. Is n't
it lovely ? Just look; five dollars twenty-
five francs. We sha'n't be hungry again. Oh,
dearest, sweetest Papa, wake up; try to forget
your poor head try to eat and get well"; and
Dea pressed her anxious little face against his
hair, and caressed him fondly.
For some time he sat staring at the money,
his weak frame shaking with a tearless sob. It
is gone," he groaned at last. "I worked day
and night on it. It was the best thing I ever
did, and this little piece of paper is all I have
for it."
Oh, Papa," cried the child, with a sharp
note of sorrow in ler soft voice, don't think of
that! You.can do another as good. Think of
me, be glad for me, get well for me. I love
you, I love you! Try to eat; do try. This is
nice bread, and this is the cheese you like."
And as coaxingly and as tenderly as one would
treat a sick child, she broke the food, morsel by
morsel, and put it to his lips.
He did not resist, but ate with pitiful docility,
and evidently with little relish. When he would
take no more, Dea gave the fragments to Homo,
who was watching the result with great interest,
as though he was wondering in his.dog's heart
why his master had to be urged to eat. Then


she brought a plate, and, putting the remainder
of the food on it, she covered it with the nap-
kin, and set it away for another meal. After
that, she went to her small room, and slipping
off her kerchief and scarf, she put on a long
apron that entirely covered her frock. The
frock had been one of her mother's, and she
was very careful of it. Then she proceeded to
tidy up the small neglect-
ed chambers. She was
so little and frail that ,
the broom in her hands .'.
seemed out of all pro-
portion, yet she handled
it with wonderful dexter-
ity. She swept and dusted
and arranged 'everything -rI _
with the utmost care; --_
then she returned to the-
room where her father ':
sat with his hollow eyes
still fixed on the note,
his face full of pain and
disappointment. '
"Let me put the money
away, Papa," Dea said
cheerfully, "and to-mor- I'
row I will get you every-
thing you want. Now _-
I will arrange your table
and dust your books."
There were books
bound in leather, and
books bound in cloth;
some had paper covers,
and some had no covers
at all; they were large
and small, thick and
thin, old and new; but,
strange to say, every
book bore on its title-page the name of Victor
Hugo. Some were beautifully illustrated Paris
editions, and their illustrations had suggested
certain figures and costumes to the artist in
wax, while other studies had been designed
and colored entirely by himself, and were the
very careful and correct work of no common
talent. Under glass cases on a side table were
some exquisite groups, and on the wall hung
several medallions of a lovely female head in

different positions, as well as a number of stud-
ies of a child all of which bore a remarkable
resemblance to Dea; and it was not difficult
to imagine that Dea's mother had served as
the model for the medallions.
While Dea arranged the table and dusted
the books, she talked incessantly in a low, coax-
ing voice. At first her father paid little atten-




4~ .Le


Sl I I
tion to her; then gradually his eyes brightened
and his face showed an interest, while from
time to time he passed his hand over his fore-
head and eyes as if he would brush away some
object that clouded his vision.
It seemed as though Dea, by repeating what
she said, at last impressed the subject on his
wandering mind, and claimed his attention
almost by force and in spite of himself.
"Do you understand, cher? she said, im-



pressively. "To-morrow the kind monsieur will
buy Esmeralda; then we shall have fifty francs,
and fifty francs will last a long while. We can
have a cutlet and salad for dinner, and old
Susette can come and work for us again."
"Fifty francs! Are you sure, Dea, that we
shall have fifty francs?" he interrupted with
some interest. "Then I can buy some colors..
My ultramarine is all gone, and I need some
rose-madder. I have to color some more wax,
and I must have some colors.'" .
"You shall, Papa; I '11 buy you some to-
morrow. You can have everything you want,"
returned Dea, proudly.
"Can I, my child ? Do you think I can? Can
I have the Hachette edition of 'L'i-omme
qui Rit ?' There are some fine illustrations in
it that I should like to copy."
Dea's little face fell, and her soft voice fal-
tered. "I don't know, Papa. I '11 see. I '11.
ask at the shop on the Rue Royale. If it is n't
too much I '11 try to get it."
"It ought to be had for fifty francs," said the-
artist, dreamily.
"But Papa, dear, we can't spend the money
for books when we have no bread."
Fifty francs, fifty francs," he repeated com-
plainingly-" and I can't have the Hachette
Yes, you can, some time. We are going to
be rich. "Listen, Papa, while-I telL) ou. The
good monsieur who bought Quasimodo is an
artist; he paints pictures instead of modeling
en cire,t and he will pay me to go to his house
and sit for him while he paints a picture."
"But you are not strong enough to stand
that, Dea; you can't!" exclaimed the artist,
He will pay me, Papa, and then I can buy
the book."
"Oh, well, if you can buy the Hachette,
perhaps you may go."
Dea turned away her head and smiled
faintly. "Pauv' papa she thought, "he will.
consent to almost anything for one of Victor
Hugo's books.
"But, Papa," she .continued entreatingly, as
she took one of his long, thin hands in hers
and stroked it fondly, "I wish you 'd let the.

painter come here and see your groups. He
might buy one, and they will bring so much
more than the little figures. Can't he come
here and see them?"
"Here, Dea ? -here in this house, where I am
buried?-a stranger here, and I so ill, so poor?
No, no, child; you are thoughtless, you are
cruel. I will never open my door to any one
but you." And he glanced around restlessly
and anxiously, as if'he feared that the stranger
was about to effect an entrance.
"\\'ell, never mind, (.'..r," said the child,
soothingly; "he sha'n't come here if it dis-
pleases you. I will take them to him. You
can pack them carefully and I will take them."
"Yes, you can take them to him; and I will
go to work now and finish something."
In nervous haste he arranged his lamp with
its thick shade, selected his wax and small
tools, and seated himself at the table with a
magnifying glass adjusted over his eye. He
was a tall man, and handsome in spite of his
illness; his face was intellectual, and his man-
ners refined and gentle; and as he worked
swiftly and skilfully, Dea leaned over the table
and watched him with fond pride.
After a while, when the room was quite dark,
the child arose and closed the blinds softly;
then she went into her father's room, which
was next to hers, turned down his bed-cover,
drew his mosquito-bar, and placed a carafe of
fresi water on the littletable. "Pauv' papa,"
she thought, as she went about the room in
a gentle, womanly way, "I hope he will sleep
to-night, and not groan and walk as he did
last night. I must try to get the book; he will
be so happy if I get him the book."
When she had finished her preparations for
his comfort, she went to say good night to
him; and as she kissed him she whispered anx-
iously, Don't sit up late, dear Papa; try to
sleep to-night, won't you?"
"You 're a good child, Dea," he said ab-
sently as he tenderly returned her caress; "go
to your bed and don't worry about me. I must
work now, and later-later, perhaps, I will try
to get some rest."
Some hours after, when Dea was sleeping
the peaceful sleep of childhood, her father

* The Man Who Laughs "- one of Victor Hugo's novels, tIn wax.




entered her room softly, glanced at her tran-
quil little face, and at Homo stretched before
her bed; then going to his room, he took his
hat, with a band of rusty crape around it, and
went quietly out into the sweet moonlit night,
closing and locking the door behind him.

THE next morning, when Philip, rosy and
fresh after a long night's sleep, ran to Pere
Josef for his lessons, he found the gentle little
priest already seated at his books and with
his empty coffee-cup before him.
"Mammy thought I 'd be late; I did n't
want to wake this morning," said Philip, after
the usual salutations were exchanged.
"No, my child, you 're in good time; the
clock is just on the stroke of six," replied Pere
Josef, closing his book with an air of preoc-
cupation; "and I 'm glad you 're punctual, for
his reverence the archbishop has sent for me
to come to him at nine o'clock. I could not
sleep this morning, wondering what such a
message betokens. I was up long before
dawn, and I thought that idle boy would
never bring me my coffee."
While Pere Josef was speaking, with some
signs of irritation. in his usually placid- voice,-
Philip's bright eyes were glancing around the
plain little room as if they were looking for
something; at length, failing to see the objects
of his search, he asked eagerly: "Where are
they, Pere Josef? where are the white mice
this morning?"
"Mes enfants ? Oh, they were so troublesome,
so really wicked, that I was obliged to put them
in prison. 'Blanche' would sweep the dust all
over my books, and Boule-de-Neige' covered
herself with coffee. Instead of taking her lump
of sugar properly,--would you believe it?-
she jumped into my saucer to help herself, and
came out with her silky white coat quite soiled.
Oh, dear, dear! it was because I was worried
that they behaved so badly. They thought I was
not noticing them."
But, Pere Josef, where are they ? Can't I
see them a moment before I begin my lessons? "
asked Philip, coaxingly.

They are locked up in my cupboard, in the
dark. When their spirits are too turbulent,
darkness is the only thing that subdues them.
Perhaps I have to blame myself for their
wickedness, and I don't wish to excuse myself
for my folly; I don't want any one to follow
my example." Here Pere Josef leaned toward
Philip and whispered mysteriously, "I should n't
like any one to know it, my child, but I 've been
teaching them to dance! "
Oh, Pere Josef, how funny that must be
Do let me see them dance."
"I can't; I can't make them dance now";
and Pere Josef glanced around furtively.
"They won't dance without music, and and
I could n't play the flute in broad day with the
windows open."
Do you play the flute, Pere Josef? asked
Philip, his blue eyes full of mirth. "How
prettyit must be to see your children dance
while you play the flute!"
"Yes, it is very amusing. I feel young
again when I play the flute for them. It was
long ago, when I was a boy at the seminary,
that I learned to play, and I was enchanted
with it; but when I took orders, I had to give
it up."
But why did you have to give it up, Pere
Josef?" asked Philip, with gentle sympathy.
.. Because, my dear child, when we give
ourselves to good works we must resign many
things that only amuse us. I loved my flute; it
came between me and my duties, and I gave it
up. For years and years I never saw it. Now
I am an old man, and I take it out again; I
confess it with shame "; and a flush of contrition
passed over Pere Josef's pale, narrow face. My
child, I confess it with shame, I love it as well
as I ever did; and, strange to say, I am secretly
glad because I remember all the old tunes, and
I 'm playing them to teach my children how to
dance. You're a good, discreet boy, and you
won't repeat my confidences. While I 'm speak-
ing of it, I may as well tell you of my fears
which prevented my sleeping last night. It
seems strange, this summons from the arch-
bishop. Do you think he can have heard of
my folly my levity, and has sent for me to
reprove me ?"
Oh, Pere Josef, you 're so good!" cried

* Snowball.



Philip, warmly; "the archbishop won't reprove
you for a little thing like that"
I trust not; I hope not. Still I am anxious.
His reverence may have heard of it, and he
may think that I am not attending to my duties;
but, my dear boy, I have been very careful not
to allow my children to interfere with my work,
and I have never played on my flute except
late at night or very early in the morning
when others are sleeping."
"If no one heard you," said Philip, wisely,
"no one could have told the archbishop; so
I would n't be unhappy about it, Pere Josef."
"Ek bien! I shall know soon. In the mean-
time, I think my poor children have been pun-
ished enough. I will let them out for you to
have a little glimpse of them before you begin
your lessons. They are charming this morning."
As he spoke, Pere Josef went briskly into
his little sleeping-room, and presently returned,
bringing a small wire cage in which were a
number of tiny white-mice. -As he set the cage
on the table, the lively little animals began to
scamper and scurry from one side to the other
of their small house, their little upright ears and
pink eyes looking very alert and mischievous.
"Oh, look, look cried Philip; "they are
playing Colin-Mfaillard." *
"The little rogues their punishment has
not done them the least good! said Pere Josef,
standing off and looking at them admiringly.
Suddenly one of the tiniest seized a small
broom, made by cutting short the handle of a
brush for water-colors, and began sweeping the
floor of the cage furiously, making a great fuss
and confusion as she scattered her compan-
ions to the right and left. When she had fin-
ished this domestic duty to her satisfaction, she
shouldered her broom and trotted off on her
hind legs to stand it carefully in one corner.
"Is n't Blanche amusing this morning !" said
Philip, as he hung enraptured over the cage.
"And look at poor Boule-de-Neige, with her
little coat all coffee-stained! How unhappy she
seems! Now, Pere Josef, can't you drill them
for just a minute ? I have n't seen them drill
for ever so long."
Pere Josef could not resist the temptation
to show off the accomplishments of his ,chil-

dren, so he seated himself, and, -with his thin,
dark face close to Philip's rosy cheeks as the)
pressed near the cage, began in a clear, dis-
tinct voice an exercise which they followed
exactly marcliing in single file, closing up, and
facing to the right or left as they were or-
dered, standing erect on their little hind legs
and going through their maneuvers with the
greatest gravity and precision.
Philip was almost beside himself with de-
light;- they were wonderful, they were enchant-
ing! And while, he and Pere Josef watched
their antics, they paid'no heed to the flight
of time. After they had finished their minia-
ture drill, P.re Josef softly, and with several
nervous glances in the direction of doors and
windows, whistled an old waltz; and straight-
way the tiny sprites began to step and whirl
in time to the tune. And never did Pan in a
sylvan dell pipe to merrier little elves than
these; and while Pan' piped and the elves
danced, Philip's books lay neglected, and Pere
Josef had forgotten the summons of his rev-
erence the archbishop.
Suddenly the Ulittle priest started up, and
looked at his clock in dismay; he had spent
nearly an hour amusing himself with his chil-
dren." Taking a red-and-yellow silk handker-
chief, he threw it resolutely over the cage, and
turning to Philip he said, "Come, come, my,
child!-we are wasting our time, and that is
wrong. The little rogues are so fascinating
that I forget where I am when I watch them.
Perhaps, after all, the archbishop would do no
more than his duty if he reproved me for such
a foolish infatuation."
Philip took his books reluctantly, and as he
tried to study he seemed to see the pets o'f Pi,
Josef dancing and whirling among the letters.
When the clock struck eight he was obliged
to leave; so he hurriedly picked up his books,
and went away without ever thinking of the
question he had intended to ask Pere Josef.

MR. AINSWORTH was sitting at his easel in
his improvised studio on an upper floor of the

* Blindman's-buff.




high house on Rue Royale. Although it was
only a temporary arrangement, the room was
really lovely. On the walls, which were artis-
tically draped with rich foreign stuffs, were a
great many charming sketches. About the
room, on tables, on brackets, and even on the
floor, were bright-colored jars and pots filled
with palms, ferns, and various slender-leaved
graceful plants, which gave the place a cool


f- /JAN,

bowery effect. There were pictures on the
easels, old china and bronzes on the shelves,
books and magazines scattered about in the
negligent fashion affected by artists. On a
low sofa, covered with a Turkish rug, lay his
young wife; she was slender and dark, and
her thin cheeks had a feverish flush. One
hand was under her head, the other held a
book at which she did not even glance. She
wore a loose white woolen gown heavily em-
broidered with black, and a rich black shawl
was folded over her feet. She would have
been handsome had she not looked so ill and

unhappy; from time to time she coughed and
moved restlessly. The sofa was drawn up to
an open window, through which the soft spring
air entered, gently rustling the slender spikes
of the palm that shaded it.
Mr. Ainsworth was putting the finishing
touches to a pretty bayou scene; he was work-
ing very busily. At length he looked up and
said anxiously, Is n't there too much draft
from that window, Laura?"
1o," she returned in a weak, fretful voice;
"I can't live without air. As it is, I can scarcely
breathe indoors."
"Are you feeling worse this morning,
dear?" questioned Mr. Ainsworth,
gently, still touching his picture
carefully and deftly.
I don't know, really. I
feel so ill all the time.
It seems as if my weak-
ness increased."
"My darling, you
S are fretting yourself to
death. Try to rise above
,your sorrow. Try as I do. I
try to forget; I try to work."
"I can't forget, Edward, I can't forget,"
was the reply. I don't wish to forget. It is
six months to-day since we lost him-our boy!
Oh, what have we done to be so afflicted?"
she cried mournfully.
"Dear Laura, don't speak of it so bitterly.
Cheer up for my sake, this heavenly spring
morning. Listen to the birds singing in the
court below, smell the perfume of the orange
blossoms, the jasmine, the roses. Look at the
sunlight on the roofs, see how the golden rays
burnish that royal magnolia in the garden
"There are no singing birds, no perfumes, no
sunlight for him!" she cried with a passionate
burst of tears.
"Think of life instead of death; thiik of
other children who live, and only live to suf-
fer; think of the sad life of that child I bought
the wax figure from yesterday." And Mr.
Ainsworth glanced at Quasimodo standing in
state on a bracket, with a piece of royal purple
velvet behind him. The little girl interested
me, Laura, but not so much as the boy did.




Don't think I 'm fanciful, but it seems to me
that he looks remarkably like our boy. He is
about-the same age; and, strange to say, his
name is Philip."
"The same name; that is a singular coinci-
dence," said Mrs. Ainsworth, rising languidly,
and looking slightly interested; "but I don't
see how a little gamin can resemble our boy."
My dear, he does n't. seem a little gamin;
he seems singularly gentle and refined; but you
will see for yourself. I think they will come
this morning. The poor little girl is so anxious
to sell Esmeralda, and the boy was so inter-
ested when I told him about my pictures. You
should have seen his blue eyes light up."
"Has he blue eyes?"
"Yes, that deep, violet-blue like our boy's,
and the same- thick, curling brown hair; of
course his clothes were plain, but they were
clean, and he looked so fresh and sweet,-a
child that any one could love."
Even while Mr. Ainsworth was speaking
there was a timid knock at the door; and when
he answered it, there stood the two charming
little models, -shy and tremulous, but with a
determined expression on each small face.
"You see, I 've brought Dea," said Philip,
sweetly elated at his success. He looked very
handsome: he was warm and rosy, and the
heavy curls lay in damp rings on his white fore-
head. Toinette had dressed him in his best
suit-a white linen shirt and new blue trousers;
he held in one hand a straw hat, and with the
other he clasped Dea, as if he feared she might
escape even then.
The little girl's softly tinted face was very
expressive, her eyes were full of expectation
and surprise, her lips were parted in a faint shy
smile. She looked healthier and happier, and
altogether very lovely. With one hand she
clung to Philip, and with the other she carried
the small basket in which Esmeralda's fanciful
costume and .the gilded horns of her goat
made a bright bit of color.
Mr. Ainsworth's face beamed with satisfac-
tion as he led the children to his wife. "Here,
Laura," he said, smiling-"here are my little
models. What do you think of them?"
Mrs. Ainsworth did not notice Dea, but her
dark eyes rested on Philip with a strange be-

wilderment of pain and surprise. She did not
speak, but after a moment of silence turned
away her head and, covering her face with
her thin hands, began to cry passionately.
She sees the likeness as I did," thought
Mr. Ainsworth, as he led the two children to
another part of the room: he did not wish
them to be distressed .by the sight of his wife's
sorrow. With great tact he first sought to
amuse and interest them by friendly little at-
tentions. He showed them his curios, his
pictures, his flowers; he gave them fruit and
bonbons; he slipped a five-dollar note into
Dea's basket, and installed Esmeralda on the
bracket beside Quasimodo; and, after a while,
when they were quite at home, he put a fresh
canvas on his easel and posed them for a
study. Philip was a little restless at first; he
wished to see the actual picture-making, .and
would have preferred to watch Mr. Ainsworth
at his work. But Dea stood like a small statue;
she was accustomed to it, she had patiently sat
many an hour for her father.
While Mr. Ainsworth painted, completely
absorbed in his fascinating little subjects, Mrs.
Ainsworth drew an easy-chair near the children
and sat silently looking at Philip. Mr. Ains-
worth wished to make their first visit so agree-
able that they would like to come again;
therefore while he worked he chatted pleasantly
to them and encouraged them to talk freely to
him in return. He was interested to know by
what means the artist in wax had been brought
to consent to his proposal. After several dis-
creet questions he drew from Dea the shy
avowal that she had come to earn the money
to buy the Hachette edition, and that her
pauv' papa had allowed her to sit for the
painter in the hope that she would get him
the much coveted book.
While Dea told her touching little story, Mr.
Ainsworth glanced at his wife; she was looking
at Philip, but she was listening to Dea. There
was a softer expression on her face.
At last, after a fairly long sitting, the artist
told his little models that he was done with
them for the morning.
We must go now," said Philip, with linger-
ing and longing looks at the canvas, on which
there already appeared a fair sketch of himself




and his little companion. I 'd like to stay
and natch while you paint, but I can't to-day.
Sehne is taking care of my flowers, and I must
go and sell them.'
And Homo is asleep under her table,"
joined in Dea. I told him to wait for me."
But \you ill be sure to be here to-morrow?"
said Mr. Ainsworth, looking from one to the
other. "- Heie is your pay for being such good
little models," and as he spoke he handed a
bright silver dollar to each.
Philip snuled delightedly. "Thank you, mon-
sieur,." he said : I would have to sell flowers
all day to make as much."
Dea's little face was a study; she turned
Sthe dollar over and over, and looked at it as
though -she doubted her senses. "A dollar-
fie 'ra ncs!" she said joyfully. Oh, monsieur,
is it enough to buy the book?"
No. my dear, I think not; but when you
come to-morrow I k ill see what can be done.":
And, mon-ieur, may I-may I bring one
of papa's groups for you to look at?" asked
Dea. hesitatingly. --There's one of the 'Toilers
of the Sea.' Itisvery pretty. May I bring it? "

"Why, certainly, my dear. I should like to
see it. -It I don't buy it, some friend may."
But, monsieur, it is \ery dear; papa says
it is worth a hundred francs. It is large, you
know-as large as this"; and Dea held her small
hands apart to give some idea of the size.
"It's too large for you to bring, is n't it?"
"Philip will help me," she said confidentl.
"Yes, I 'I help you, Dea. It 's too big for
a girl like you, but it 's not too big for me."
Then, turning politely, he held out his hand
to Mrs, Ainsworth. "Good-by," he said sweetly.
Mrs. Ainsworth took the little brown hand
and drew the boy close to her; for a moment
she looked into his eyes, then she put her arms
around him and kissed him. Dea came forward
and also received a kind caress. It w\as kind.
but it was not like the :-iss she had given Philip.
"They are charming," she said, looking at
her husband with a smile-the 6rst he had seen
for many a day. :::
"Au i :,'ir, monsieur." said :Dea at the door.
Philip was half-way down-stairs in his impa-
tience to show his dollar to Seline. -.-Au r'voir.
I will bring the 'Toilers' to-morrow."

(To be contnued.)




books! Now
for fun, girls!"

clear, joyous,
and energetic,
went down to
the farthest al-
coves t of the
quiet college
library. Then
all the readers
The Lodge, Wellesley College. -at the tables
looked up and smiled; but the hint was taken,
and in a moment there was a rush of girls
through the library doors into the hall. College
students though they were, all the girls talked
at once.
"The refreshment committee say that we are
to have ice-cream this time." "Oh, how
delicious "Who 's to pour chocolate?"
" What are you planning to wear?" "Have
the rugs been placed in the halls?"
"Oh, girls, the decorations are lovely! All
the riches of the Orient are there--curtains,
bric-h-brac, and screens. Even the Friulein's
elevators are gorgeous!" The girls laughed,
for it was funny to be.reminded of the mistake
of the dear little German professor, who in-
sisted upon becoming warm at her "elevator,"
meaning "radiator." Oh, I hope it will be
a success!" sighed one girl anxiously. Of
course it will," another assured her. In social
affairs, system is necessary; so we have our
committees of refreshment, of decoration, and
of reception." And an- obliging faculty to
make sure of a good time!" Good-by!"
called out one girl to another, as they separated.
" Good-by! Auf wiederseken / which, being
interpreted, meaneth See you later!'" they
called back in gay banter.
You might have known, listening to the talk,

which was chiefly exclamation and laughter,
that there was to be a party, or a reception, or
some other kind of festival in the great college
that day; and if you are to be a college girl,
you will like to hear what happened, and what
is likely to take place when you are living the
happy life at Vassar, or Wellesley, or Smith, or
Bryn Mawr, or at any other college which affords
to girls the blessed privileges of learning.
The festival about which the girls were talk-
ing was an afternoon reception offered by
the faculty to the junior class. Standing in the
hall, which was bright with decorations, the
president and some of the professors met their
guests, and then presented them to the juniors.
It was a great privilege for the girls to meet the
visitors; In happy little whispers, they would
now and then say to one another that they
could never forget that afternoon. "Just
think! I have been talking to a real, live
bishop!" "I have met one of the greatest scien-
tists in the country." A famous poet has been
telling me about her girlhood." All their
lives these girls would be proud to remember
conversations with famous men and women.
One of the prettiest college festivals that I
ever saw was the celebration of Tree Day at
Wellesley College. About the class-tree seats
were arranged upon the greensward. One seat,
higher than the rest, was marked by a beautiful
purple banner embroidered in gold with the
motto and date of the class. This was to be the
seat of the class president, or, as it was called,
the Throne of the Princess." Soon the seats
were filled by the college students. First came
the "specials," who were dressed as gay Japa-
nese girls, in loose robes and big bows bunched
behind. How their fans fluttered, and how
bright were their parasols! Then followed the
sub-freshmen in dark blue, the college color,
with daisy girdles.
The sophomores appeared as.nuns, robed



in black and white, with cords of clover blos-
soms about the waist. A horn was heard
blowing clear over the campus. Soon a merry
band of girls in green came running forth at
the summons, and this was joined by another
band and then another. These were the juniors
pretending that they were Robin Hood's fa-
mous hunters. The freshman class were Greek
maidens, clad in loose, white robes such as
NausicaL wore at that famous game of ball
about which all college girls like to read. The

the r6le of Tennyson's Princess," and would
hold court. With much ceremony, gifts were
offered, after which speeches were made. I
confess that I do not remember all that was
said, but there were these words spoken: "We
are to give now rather than receive. We are
to be, by doing. We are to grow stronger by
helping the weak; to grow more courageous
by encouraging the faint-hearted; to grow no-
bler by lifting up one high ideal in the sight of
all the world."


seniors appeared finally, robed in purple gowns
and caps, as dignified as one would expect
girls to be who are about to say farewell to
college days. The senior president seated her-
self upon the throne. Lively little. heralds
called the names of the classes, and then the
responses came in cheer after cheer of clear,
ringing voices,-such hearty college cries of
English, Latin, and Greek words and letters
dancing together, with one grand end to each
cheer W-e-l-l-e-s-l-e-y! "
After the tumult had died away, it was an-
nounced that the senior president had taken

Farther down the lawn was a newly planted
tree for the freshman class; it was only a bun-
dle of twigs with a leaf or two at the top, but
the Princess gathered her court about it with as
much ceremony as if it had been the noblest
oak of the forest. There was again much
speech-making, followed by the transfer of a
spade from the sophomores to the freshmen.
The exercises ended in a graceful dance about
the tree. Whatever the court etiquette, there
was no doubt that all the girls had a "royal
good time."
Nearly all girls' colleges celebrate a Tree Day,




". .. -' .
*, '*' B '

. ,' ri .^


though not always in fancy dress. Many col-
leges have other special days which are much
enjoyed. Miss M. Carey Thomas, the Dean
of Bryn Mawr, writes me of "an annual en-
tertainment offered in the autumn, about the
middle of October, by the sophomores to the
entering freshman class, in which, with appro-
priate ceremonies, a lantern, is given to each

freshman. This lantern is supposed to light her
through the group system' of studies! Very
soon after, the freshmen invite the sophomores
to an entertainment." How much more reason-
able is this pleasant greeting from sophomores
to freshmen than were the rude hazing customs
of old days in young men's colle s !
The day which brings the pleasahtest memo-





ries to Smith College graduates is Mountain
Day, celebrated, as its name implies, by drives
and walks to- the beautiful hills and mountains
about Northampton, Massachusetts. A Smith
girl tells how the festival is enjoyed every
October: "It was the custom, at first, for each
class to form an excursion party, but as the
classes increased in size, this plan was given
up. Now, the students form parties from four
to twent~ in number. Walking parties are nearly
as numerous as the.driving parties."
The Annex maidens, who dwell in Cambridge

mers have a custom of sitting up all night, it
was evident that something more unusual and
even livelier had happened. The pretty recita-
tion-room held odd groups of chairs; Professor
Maria Mitchell was a little fatigued, though as
witty as ever, and Professor Whitney, who has
since taken Professor Mitchell's place, had a
manner of pleasant reminiscence, as if she en-
joyed "talking things over." I soon learned
that a Dome Party" had been held the day
before, given to the junior and senior members
of the astronomy department by the professors.


near Harvard College, have many clubs. Chief
of these are the Idler Club, the English Club,
the Music Club and the Glee Club, and the
Emmanuel Society. In the pleasant parlors of
the Fay House, the home of the Annex, many
learned questions are discussed amid light gos-
sip over cups of tea.
Once, during a visit at Vassar College, in
the lovely month of June, I noticed an air of
festivity in the little building devoted to the
astronomical department. Although astrono-

All who had been fortunate enough to be pres-
ent were glad to tell how they had been the
most envied of mortals.
For several days before the party, an air of
preparation had hovered over the Observatory.
The guests had been invited to contribute poet-
ical morsels for a feast of original verse, and
the professors had had the rapt air of poets. At
half-past eight on the eventful morning, juniors
and seniors, with faces as *bright as the June
sunshine, walked eagerly to the Observatory.


/ ,\,\\



There they were welcomed warmly by Profes- When the breakfast was finished, Professor
sor Mitchell and Miss lhitney, who invited Mitchell made a little speech in which she said
the guests prompt rly to a breakfast in the dome that a literary feast would follow; Then, amid
and the meridian-room. At first there was a good-humored laughter, each student heard
hush. The religious dimness of the dome, the herself praised in poems written by her beloved


'-'C -sZ'---
-~ _

- - w'.
- ..

-. ~ ~ YC i ^_. *<..

''A *7'Z-1.
-t- _2
'" "". ,. '" ;:'J'c

. .,

.~ T "F E,. F T:, *

fact that 'the great telescope was over their
heads, and the presence of the distinguished.
and good woman whob was the honored hostess
and professor, gave a strangeness to the social
festival. But a look at the dainty tables soon
dispelled all restraint, and the girls' subdued
tones grew louder, and more. confident, while
many merry laughs echoed under the vaulted
roof. At the plate of each girl was a bouquet
of fresh June roses from Professor Mitchell's
garden. How often had the girls proved the
beauty of the garden's flowers and the generos-
ity of the giver! Once, when the complaint
had come that flowers had been picked in the
college gardens, and the students had been
reproved, Professor Mitchell had come with a
warm-hearted invitation: My apple-tree is in
bloom, girls. Take all the blossoms that you
want." These roses, souvenirs of a delightful
occasion, would be held more precious than all
the college flowers, and would be kept for years
in love of her who gave them. Besides the
roses, there were strawberries and many deli-
cious viands, well relished by the "groups of
girls at the little tables.


professors; There %ere epigrammatic sonnets
on those whose names wouldd rhyme, and
bright essays on those -whose names could not
be put in verse by any, possibility of twisting
and turning. Music varied the poetry, as a
choir, seated on the steps by the great telescope,
sang songs written for the occasion, and made
the dome resound with selections on many
kinds of musical instruinents.
At the close of a delightful morning came the
"Maria Mitchell" song, famous among all Vas-
sar students, ending ,rith the remain, "Good
Womari that She Is!" Although the "Dome
Party" still remains a bright festival at the close
of the college year, the gracious presence of
Maria Mitchell no longer is the inspiring force
of the happy day.
The "Dome Party" was called the "Mecca"
of the Vassar student in astronomy.
A festival equally unique and famous at
Vassar College takes place in the middle of the
sophomore year, and celebrates the end of the
course in trigonometry. The girls are so glad
to be through with this branch of mathematics
that they present an original drama or opera



":^' .



in which the death of "Trig" is duly noticed.
Such a play was the "Mathematikado." "Trig
Trig" and "Ayty Ayt" were the chief people
in a funny romance. "Bot Ah Nee" carried
on a philosophical courtship, and "Three Little
Ayty Nines" were dear little maids at school.
A glimpse of college life is given in a song
describing the offenders who never would be
missed ":

ing to learn what girls, far from their homes in
quiet college walls, did for costumes. Those
who acted men's parts wore men's coats over
short velvet skirts, and looked as boyish as pos-
sible. Dr. Faustus," in the play written for the
ceremonies, was a tall girl with a deep voice,
and she looked stately and dignified in a stu-
dent's gown bordered with fur, and in a becom-
ing cap. The bad angels wore pink gauze with


There's the pestilential nuisances who did n't come
for work,
Who cut their classes every one, and all their duties
All tender invalid students who half their classes miss;
All persons who, in taking ex., take exercise like this;
All friendly ones whose lengthy calls we hardly dare
They 'd none of 'em be missed-they 'd none of
'em be missed.
All girls who speak so low in class you can't hear
what they say;
All who propositions twist, I 've got 'em on the list;
All girls who bring their shawls to class, yet shiver
every day,-
They never would be missed-they never would be

On one occasion, a long dramatic piece
called "Dr. Faustus" was given. It is interest-
VOL. XX.-44

pink wings, and the good angels wore white
gauze with white wings, and nobody could tell
which were prettier. "Algebra," an important
personage, wore black embroidered with white
algebraic signs, with x y z and their equations.
" Geometry's" black gown was ornamented
with white geometrical figures-squares and
circles. There were many harrowing scenes
in Dr. Faustus," and the audience was duly
terrified, except when the thunder (immense
dumb-bells), came rolling across the stage, and
every one laughed.
The Philalethean Society at Vassar is a
source of delightful social life, and its various
Chapters are active in literary, dramatic, and
other exercises.
The festivals about which I have told you,



i_ 1 _~1_ ~ ___


take place on dry land, but there is a fete
celebrated on the water, which is one of the
loveliest of all. It is the "Float Day" of Wel-
lesley College. Each class has a boat-crew dis-
tinguished by a picturesque uniform. At about
seven o'clock in the evening, the crews march
down the college steps and across the lawn to the

As it grows dark, lanterns are lighted round
the lake, and calcium lights illumine the courses
of the boats. Soon two boats shoot out from the
circle, and the cry is heard : A race! '91 '93!
'93! '91 !" Then again there is quiet, and over
the water comes the sweet song: Good night!"
At all colleges, the great festival of the year


lake. They then take their places, one by one,
in the boats, and as they pull off from shore, each
crew gives its yell. A star and circle are formed
by the boats upon the lake, and then comes the
college cheer, which, as one girl says, "is echoed
in the heart of every Wellesley student, and is
rivaled only by the frogs." With sweet music on
the water, the crews enchant all their hearers.
A song, called "I Doubt It," has a popular col-
lege version, of which the following is a stanza:
If you were a freshman, and plied a great oar
Which had nothing spoony about it,
Do you think you would row like a practised senior ?
Well, maybe you would, but I doubt it.


is Commencement, when the seniors receive the
approval of the college at the end of an honor-
able course of study. Even the pretty new
gowns, or the caps and gowns which are worn at
Bryn Mawr, fail to take away the sadness of
this occasion. The festival is as stately as pos-
sible. The baccalaureate sermon first teaches
the graduating class the solemnity of the Com-
mencement time, and charges all who go forth
into the world to hold fast to the pursuit of
what is noblest, highest, and best. Then comes
the Commencement concert, and finally the
great day upon which degrees are conferred.
The Doxology is sung with fervor, but there




are tears in the eyes
of many of the
graduates, for they
realize that in the
world festivals may
be hardly earned,
and must be very
different from the
careless, happy days
at college.
Much might be
said of the smaller
parties which can-
not be described un-
der the name of d
" festival," yet which
are enjoyed by the
students even more
than the larger and
more elaborate enter-
tainments. In one
week of October there
were at Smith Col-
lege a sophomore re-
off in a blaze of
lights, banners, and pretty costumes," a musi- recreation, about which you would like to hear,
cale, and a large number of Hallowe'en par- perhaps; but some day you will enjoy them
ties, masquerades, germans, and flower-parties. for yourselves, after passing those dreaded
Other colleges have many bright evenings of entrance examinations.



It 'lt ramz It 'll rain / It 'll rain / It 'll rain !
Says the peacock's shrill refrain, Watch the shifting weather-vane
Ere the heaven shows for sign Veering from its dreams of drouth
E'en a single leaden line. Toward the veiled and showery south !
See! a silvery shudder now Now the eye of day is hid
Runs along the poplar bough, Underneath a lowering lid,
And recurrent ripples pass And the heaven feels the lash
O'er the reaches of the grass. Of a goading lightning-flash.
Low the swallows circle over Peals a bell with soft insistence
Rosy fields of scented clover; Clearly down the darkening distance,
Willows whiten in the lane And the peacock cries again--
It 'll rain It 'll rain It 'll rain / It 'll rain /





EVERY morning through the summer,
From her little garden spot,
Saidie brings me pretty clusters
Of the flower forget-me-not.

But the name seems hard to Saidie,
Or does not her fancy please,
For she always says: "Good morning!
Here are some remember me's."



boom, from the bass-
drums. R-r-r-r-rat-a-
tat-tat, rolled the
snares. Crash from
the whole great mili-
.e tary band; and the
long lines of blue-uni-
formed Swiss soldiers
swung in fours through
the narrow streets of Lucerne, and climbed
the hill leading to their daily parade-ground,
where the mountains stand forever on guard
over the lovely blue lake below.
The music beat against the mountains, was
echoed from the city's broken walls, and floated
upward to the houses on the hill, till suddenly
the sound reached an open casement window
and acted as an electric battery upon a boy of
eleven years, who was lying stretched upon a
couch, with his head buried in a magazine.
A bound from the sofa was the response to the
musical message. A bewildered whirl around
for his cap, a rush from the room, a clattering
assault of the stairs,- five minutes later a down-
ward plunge, and there shot from the door an
elastic figure in dark blue. The boy had a
clanking sword at his side, a cartridge-box
strapped upon his back, and a pistol in the
leather belt. In his right hand was an air-gun,
the staff of a small American flag was in his

left, and a soldier's cap upon his round, blond
head, which was carried with military erectness.
This much-accoutered figure made its way
up a steep path, through a gap in a wall, leaped
a low fence, squeezed through a narrow open-
ing in the hedge, and found itself in the rear of
a gray, stone villa, which with closed blinds
stood quite vacant and deserted, high above
the lovely little city clinging to the shores of
Lake Lucerne.
The paths were overrun, the shrubbery neg-
lected; but the flying feet were not impeded by
the tangled grasses on the unshorn lawn, and
made their way quickly to a strip of greensward
close beside a wall which barred the encroach-
ments of neighboring invaders.
Upon the other side, Swiss regiments were
quickly forming into position for their daily
drill. Mounted officers galloped over the field,
officers upon foot with waving swords were
marshaling their men, the band stood in readi-
ness for the bugle-calls, and the daily discipline
had begun.
On the villa side of the wall the American
flag had been carefully given into the charge
of a small tree-as standard-bearer; the gun,
cartridge-box, and pistol had been deposited
beside a great ivy-grown rock; and a gallant
boy-officer, with lifted sword, was drilling an
imaginary company, with the aid of constant
glances at the other drill over the wall.



EVERY morning through the summer,
From her little garden spot,
Saidie brings me pretty clusters
Of the flower forget-me-not.

But the name seems hard to Saidie,
Or does not her fancy please,
For she always says: "Good morning!
Here are some remember me's."



boom, from the bass-
drums. R-r-r-r-rat-a-
tat-tat, rolled the
snares. Crash from
the whole great mili-
.e tary band; and the
long lines of blue-uni-
formed Swiss soldiers
swung in fours through
the narrow streets of Lucerne, and climbed
the hill leading to their daily parade-ground,
where the mountains stand forever on guard
over the lovely blue lake below.
The music beat against the mountains, was
echoed from the city's broken walls, and floated
upward to the houses on the hill, till suddenly
the sound reached an open casement window
and acted as an electric battery upon a boy of
eleven years, who was lying stretched upon a
couch, with his head buried in a magazine.
A bound from the sofa was the response to the
musical message. A bewildered whirl around
for his cap, a rush from the room, a clattering
assault of the stairs,- five minutes later a down-
ward plunge, and there shot from the door an
elastic figure in dark blue. The boy had a
clanking sword at his side, a cartridge-box
strapped upon his back, and a pistol in the
leather belt. In his right hand was an air-gun,
the staff of a small American flag was in his

left, and a soldier's cap upon his round, blond
head, which was carried with military erectness.
This much-accoutered figure made its way
up a steep path, through a gap in a wall, leaped
a low fence, squeezed through a narrow open-
ing in the hedge, and found itself in the rear of
a gray, stone villa, which with closed blinds
stood quite vacant and deserted, high above
the lovely little city clinging to the shores of
Lake Lucerne.
The paths were overrun, the shrubbery neg-
lected; but the flying feet were not impeded by
the tangled grasses on the unshorn lawn, and
made their way quickly to a strip of greensward
close beside a wall which barred the encroach-
ments of neighboring invaders.
Upon the other side, Swiss regiments were
quickly forming into position for their daily
drill. Mounted officers galloped over the field,
officers upon foot with waving swords were
marshaling their men, the band stood in readi-
ness for the bugle-calls, and the daily discipline
had begun.
On the villa side of the wall the American
flag had been carefully given into the charge
of a small tree-as standard-bearer; the gun,
cartridge-box, and pistol had been deposited
beside a great ivy-grown rock; and a gallant
boy-officer, with lifted sword, was drilling an
imaginary company, with the aid of constant
glances at the other drill over the wall.


The sun crept high in the heavens, and the
long, monotonous din of drilling went on and
on, through one of the summer's hottest days.
The men's faces were flushed and expression-
less; the officers' brisk movements were evi-
dently conscious efforts. But on the further side
of the wall, though the boy-soldier's pink cheeks
became crimson and perspiration had reduced
the linen collar to abjectness, spirit and courage
held the day, and military discipline was being
rigidly maintained.
A group of officers suddenly came upon the
field, making their way where a clump of trees
against the wall cast a welcome shadow. The'
trees also concealed their approach from the
patient little soldier, who was at that moment,
with desperate stiffness of bearing, going through
the manual in unison with the glittering line of
soldiers just beyond.
The group suddenly stopped as they came
upon the little figure, which presented to their
eyes a very comical appearance. The com-
manding officer, with a warning gesture of
silence, stepped quietly from behind the trees,
and as the boy wheeled, facing the wall, he was
met by the most astounding situation of his
life; for there stood the colonel of his favorite
regiment and a whole group of officers, in
shining uniforms, looking sternly down upon
His hand went instinctively to his cap, in
the long-practised military salute, and in a dizzy
whirl of proud rapture, which turned his crim-
son cheeks pale for a moment, he saw his
salute gravely returned!
"Halt! exclaimed the colonel, in German.
The little figure stood motionless in soldierly
Zu welchem Regiment / "* came from the
gray mustache, and with the intoxication of
this bewildering experience thrilling every nerve,
there came in quick response from hurried lips:
"I--I am-an American citizen! "
The colonel coughed violently as he beckoned
his officers nearer, saying in excellent English:
What then have we here? Is America
sending her citizens to learn our military tactics
behind walls ? Sometimes we call such people
spies. Do you know what happens to spies ?"

The boy stood very erect, with tightly com-
pressed lips, but replied fearlessly:
"You shoot them. I have drilled here with
your regiment three weeks!"
"Ac/i so!"t ejaculated the colonel gravely.
" A bad case! Shall we shoot him on the spot,
or court-martial him ?"
Put him through the manual," suggested an
officer, whose laughing eyes sent a reassuring
message to the boy's wide-open and somewhat
startled gaze.
"Sehrgut," assented the colonel. "Attention!"
The boy grew cold with apprehension. He
felt, for the moment, that shooting would have
been a merciful plan in comparison. Then some-
thing within him, perhaps a drop of inherited
courage from heroes of his race, rose to rescue
him from entire humiliation. Placing himself
in position, he gritted his teeth, and with a cold
moisture stealing on his brow, held himself in
readiness for the commands.
A nightgown drill with a walking-stick in a
soldier-uncle's bedroom in far-away New Eng-
land, coupled with an unusual aptitude for all
things military, had produced quite remark-
able results under the three weeks' drill; and
the officers, at first merely amused, became
deeply interested in seeing how much accurate
knowledge had been retained by the mind of
so young a boy.
"Ach! I wish half my company would listen
as well," growled a young captain; and the
colonel's face forgot to be military, and grew
fatherly, and the drill closed-with a hearty
salute from the officers.
Well, my young American citizen, I suppose
you think you will bear arms for your country
some time ? said the colonel, leaning upon the
wall and drawing the boy kindly toward him.
"I hope so," replied the boy; "we have
only a very little regular army; and I try to
learn all I can over here so I can go right
ahead when the time comes."
Well, what do you mean by keeping so
few soldiers ready to defend your country?
What would you Americans do if a great force
should come over to fight with you ? "
Why, beat 'em as we 've always done,"
replied the boy, serenely.

*" Of what regiment?" f "Indeed! t "Very good."



r;"B1 ~Y ~,

;I ~
i:::: r -


A mighty laugh gurgled and rumbled under
the big mustaches. The bugle sounded, and
as the colonel turned away he laid his hand
on the boy's shoulder, saying solemnly, I pro-
mote you to the position of Chief American
Citizen in my regiment."

No honor was ever more proudly borne!
The initials C. A. C." were braided upon the
breast of the small blue jacket by an indulgent
mother, and few days passed during the long,
happy summer without the faithful drill behind
the wall.


.- ~I-

As they rode from the parade-ground, the face, he quite forgot his embarrassment. By her
colonel and the group of officers learned to ex- questioning she soon drew from him the use
pect the parting dip of the American flag from he had made of her grounds; and he was soon
the little color-bearer stationed at the gateway, eagerly telling about his promotion, and the
and they never failed to respond with a grave great necessity of keeping up his drill, lest the
salute.- Chief American Citizen in a Swiss colonel should think him ungrateful, or maybe
regiment was indeed an unparalleled honor, even a deserter.
The conversation was a long one, for she
A week after that day of days, when the led him upon the piazza, and the situation was
C. A. C.-as he preferred to be called-went discussed over a dainty luncheon oflKuchen $-
leaping through the hedge, as usual, he nearly a conversation begun on one side in imper-
fell into the arms of the very tallest and largest feet German, and ending on the -other in im-
lady he had ever seen. His first thought was perfect English, but through which a perfect
of a possible giantess; his second, of his cap, understanding was secured; and after his name
which flew briskly off as
he begged her pardon
in very boyish German.
"Bin Soldat" ejac-
ulated the lady, with a
smile of growing amuse-
ment, as she viewed him
from head to foot.'.
"Ja, sMadame," t he
murmured confusedly,
seeing suddenly that the
closed villa 'had come to
life. Windows and doors
were wide open, draper-
ies were fluttering, rugs
and couches were vigor-
ously beaten.by a busy
group of servants. A
gardener was attending
the lady, as she over-
looked her neglected
premises, when the sud-
den apparition of the
little soldier startled her
from her peaceful mood.
The invader looked up
at the imposing figure be-
fore him with a sudden
choking in the throat,
realizing that he no long-
er had any right in the
beloved old garden; and,
with a murmured apology, he was turning to re- and residence were ascertained, he was dis-
treat when the lady spoke again with such a missed with the promise that his privileges
winning kindness that, gazing into the gentle, should not be withdrawn if he would consider
A soldier !" t "Yes, ma'am." t Cakes.





himself detailed as "special guard over the
lady's premises.
But when, as he was just ready to bound
from the steps with an unburdened heart, a
servant addressed his companion as Baroninn,
he felt as though the world brimmed over with
surprises, and fell a-wondering, as he turned
homeward, if a baroness were of that size, what
must a queen be like!
From that hour the great lady had a devoted
sentinel. Stray dogs, cats, and urchins were
driven from the newly cleaned lawn at "the
point of the sword. Visitors at the villa were
curiously amused at the sudden appearance,
now and then, of a pygmy guard at the baro-
ness's gateway. Upon seeing her at her morn-
ing coffee on the piazza, he always appeared to
receive the orders for the day; and the lonely,
childless old lady, whose heart lay buried in a
soldier's grave, found her days brightened by
entering heartily into this vividly enacted child-
They held long military discussions; the
situation in Germany was carefully reviewed;
and when the baroness told the lad of her only
son's gallant death at Sedan,- of how he had
fallen in ignorance that the hour of Germany's
triumph had come,-the boy felt that he had
almost been there -himself, and shaken the old
Kaiser's hand!
And then it happened one day that a chance
came really to serve his gracious lady. It came
in this-way. The baroness often wore in the
garden on: afternoons a very beautiful and
costly;shawl, dear to her as the last gift from
the ever-mourned hero of Sedan.
As she rose hastily one day to return to the
house, it had softly fallen to the back of her
chair in the arbor, and was lying there quite
The C. A. C., book in hand, but, as usual,
with his soldier's cap and sword, reclined on
the grass in a favorite nook near by, where low-
hanging branches quite concealed him from
view. Suddenly he heard voices, and peering
under the branches, saw two villainous heads
rising above the wall. He saw them quickly
duck down, cautiously rise, and go down again,
while a muttered conference went on.
Suddenly, one fellow leaped the wall, and

lying flat on the ground, wormed his way
toward the shawl, whose beautiful folds draped
from the chair promised a valuable prize to the
The watcher under the trees, leaning far
forward, following the thief's movements, sud-
denly saw the object of the stealthy advance,
and his heart stood still. He knew the shawl's
history, and how dear it was to his kind friend
the baroness.
What should he do? Could he reach the'
house and return with help before it would be
gone? Such a little boy! Two such ugly-
looking thieves!
The man's hand was already outstretched to
grasp the booty. Something must be done.
Creeping softly from beneath the branches, the
little fellow suddenly drew his sword from its
scabbard, and leaping high in the air, crashed
the screening branches with the shining blade,
shouting with all the force and gruffness he
could command:
"Hi, there! "
"Das AMilidr/ Das MAfilidr/" screamed the
startled rogue, scrambling to his feet as he
caught a flash of the gleaming blade and heard
the clank of the dangling scabbard.
Running desperately to the wall, he threw
Irmnself headlong over it, scrambled frantic1ll)
upon his feer. and dashed after his already flying
comrade in a frantic retreat across the parade-
ground. The shouts and crashing of branches
follo'\ed them as they ran with every nerve
strained to escape the armed force they felt in
hot pursuit. In one convulsive backward Io,:k,
to see -if escape was wholly hopeless, they saw
a sight that suddenly arrested their desperate
flight, and caused a torrent of abuse to pour
forth in deepest gutturals; for there, perched
upon the wall, waving his sword in frantic
triumph, dancing in a perfect frenzy of delight,
and shouting: "Das Milittr! Das Miliidr!"
with .peals of derisive laughter- stood their
small outwitter!
They gave one lurch toward him, as though
to resume their attempt; then, shaking their
fists with vengeful emphasis, slouched quickly
down a narrow alley leading into -the lower
city. A moment later the boy victor, with
quickened breath and very red cheeks, after

* "The soldiers! The soldiers! "




vainly trying to fold the rescued shawl,
proudly marched across the lawn, up the steps
of the villa, and directly into the baroness's
presence. After telling his story, which was
received with a burst of German ejaculations,
fervent hand-claspings, and head-shakings, he
presented the rescued trophy, with a grave
salute, as "the spoils of war."

lated adventure, kept the boy's hand in his,
and drawing him beside his chair asked how
an American boy could leave his republic to
come among the kingdoms of Europe.
"It was hard," George admitted, "but I
don't mind being in Switzerland, because it 's
an older republic than ours, anyway. But I
was very glad we came over in a German
steamer, for I don't wish to see England till

The entrance from the glare of the sunshine we have a bigger navy."
into the baroness's shaded parlors, coupled with "Why-is n't your na'
his intense excitement, made the eager boy asked the old officer, with
overlook the fact that his hostess was not George looked at him
alone. picion. The small size o0
After warmly thanking him for the service, compared with England's
and heartily praising his courage and presence mortification to the C. A
of mind, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, most sure he was being
and walked beside him down the long room, answered respectfully:
Captain Enderby,
allow me to present my
'special guard.' Mein
junger Freund, George \
Bourne Ainsworth, von
Amerika." *
A tall figure rose
from a deep lounging-
chair in the soft gloom,
a fine soldierly-looking
old man, with white
hair, and a thin, dark
face, who extended his
hand to the lad with
kind cordiality.
Captain Enderby,"
continued the gracious
hostess, was for many
years in her Majesty's
service in India."
"So that's what they
call an Anglo-Indian,"
thought the boy, with vi-
sions of elephant- and tiger-
hunts whirling through his brait.
He placed his hand in lthe ..-
tended one, and looked wvri..]n-, rlv n
up into the benignant face
The old soldier, who .Ld beeKn :ii .tinruse 'i --
and interested listener to rihe :irinmatiall, re- T..i .-.
My young friend from America.

vy a first-class one?"
a twinkle in his eyes.
with a touch of sus-
f the American navy
was a source of deep
. C., and he was al-
laughed at,-but he



"Perhaps we don't need a large navy, because
we can always do our beatings on the land."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the old man. "Are you
quite sure you are not one of General Gage's
troublesome Boston boys left over from the
last century? Come here, Alice, and make the
acquaintance of an American boy, who evi-
dently knows about some differences of
opinion of a hundred '.al- ,g,."
And then there erere. d,.
through a swept-a:sie .corrtice, .
the very loveliest )y:'uiing l.ldy
George had ever "een. Shle
was slender and very gr:i.leful,
with lovely dark eye: and
reddish brown hair:
and as she came
sweeping forward
in her soft lace
dress, and placing
her hand upon ..
the old man's
arm, said gently,
"I shall be very.
happy, Grand-
papa, to know
an American
boy," George
felt that if they
should tell him
she was an an-
gel, it would n't
seem very sur-
prising- in this
mysterious house,
which already held
a baroness and an
Anglo-Indian officer !
He did n't say thla,
however, but clicked his
heels into soldierly precii':. ".' -
and bowed low.
After the young lIad h-id elieird
the story from her grateful hostess,
she said, very sweetly:
"If I am to be honored by living in a house
with such a brave 'special guard,' I cannot
allow his deeds of valor to go unrewarded.
I bestow upon you my own private mark of
honor "; and, drawing a beautiful rose from the

soft laces upon her corsage, she pinned it on
his jacket with a tiny silver arrow, saying, as
she snapped the pin:
"There! I never give flowers I've worn--
unless my whole heart goes with them!"
Ah, Alice, Alice Enderby! little did you
think that those lightly-spoken words of yours

were soon to become the key to a great.situ-
Very rosy, very erect, and very proud was
the figure in blue bearing on its breast the dec-
orations of bravery and beauty, as it walked




across the lawn with a soldierly swing which
broke into a run as it neared the pension*
in which the father and mother of this dis-
tinguished American citizen had found a de-
lightful summer-home. The run became a wild
gallop as, seeing the good Friulein busy
among her roses, he rushed to tell her the won-
derful adventure of the day.
This delightful Swiss landlady, of excellent
family, and finely educated, was an old friend
of the baroness who owned the neighboring
villa; and, having been greatly pleased at the
baroness's kindness in allowing her grounds to
be used as the boy's parade-ground, she was
now vastly proud that the favor had so soon
and gallantly been returned.
George was the only child in the house,
and he had quite won her heart by boyish kind-
ness and attentions; so she warmly entered into
his various absorbing interests, which from time
to time arose and claimed attention. The latest
were the plans to be made for the celebration
of the coming Fourth of July--the day of days
for an American boy.
It so happened, as things sometimes do in
this world of ours, that George's papa joined
forces with his country, and had a common
birthday! George thought his father very lucky
to have been born on the national holiday. To
celebrate these two events properly had been
the greatest yearly event in the boy's life before
leaving America.
George had foreseen difficulties in the way,
when thinking of how he should celebrate the
day in a foreign land, and with foreigners all
about him; but until the rose was pinned upon
his breast by those fair English hands, nothing
had seemed wholly insurmountable. Now he
pondered deeply over the matter, grew silent
and abstracted, ceased to speak of the coming
event, and as he saw Miss Enderby daily, grow-
ing more and more charmed with her winning
kindliness, it grew impossible to think of cele-
brating the Independence of America next door
to that vision of English loveliness.
But what would papa think if his birthday
was deprived of its triumphant character ? So,
moodily pondering these perplexing questions,
George sat one day with his arms resting on
the balcony railing and his eyes hardly seeing

the exquisite panorama of mountain and lake.
There the kind Swiss landlady found him
when, having in vain questioned the boy's
father and mother as to the sudden loss of
enthusiasm over the rapidly approaching day
of celebration, she had resolved to ask George
himself about it.
As to a fellow-citizen of a sister republic, he
confided to her his conflicting views of his duty,
with such earnestness that her smothered laugh
was changed into an expression of tenderness;
but she had only time to say, "You dear,
thoughtful boy!" before a maid called her into
the. house. An hour later, however, her best
bonnet was seen nodding dramatically in the
parlor of the villa, and her kind old face under
it was full of mirth and mystery as she parted
from the ladies at the door, who seemed equally
amused and interested.
An earnest consultation with Mr. and Mrs.
Ainsworth followed this visit at the villa, but
nothing further was said in George's moody
presence about the coming, long anticipated,
but now deeply shadowed event.
The morning of the Fourth dawned upon a
city which, but for the American flags floating
here and there, gave no sign that across the
sea millions of human beings were joyously
celebrating their holiday.
George lounged down through the garden;
he had almost decided to "cut" drill, take his
story-book, and go off in the woods, as the
most absorbing occupation he could devise,
when Mr. Ainsworth came suddenly around
the corner of the path.leading up from the city.
Upon seeing his son, he instantly drew back;
but it was too late.
"Papa!" exclaimed George, reproachfully,
"fire-crackers, when I have n't asked for one!"
He lowered his voice, and pointing at the villa
continued in an explanatory and warning whis-
per, "British,- over there !"
"To be sure! "ejaculated his father, stepping
back with a pretended expression of surprise.
"Well, we can save them for next year."
"Bui you are quite sure you don't mind
about your birthday, Papa!" he anxiously
asked, twisting one arm affectionately within
his father's.
"Of course not," answered his father gravely.

* Boarding-house.


4 699


"Delicate consideration for. the conquered is
the only position a generous victor can take."
George heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Sup-
posing," his father continued, "we celebrate the
day by going in a rowboat',with an American
flag at the prow, down the lake to Tell's
Chapel,' lunch at the restaurant, and get back
about five to-night ? "
That plan seemed to fit the spirit of the day
to perfection, and the smiling mother and re-
liev.ed landlady watched them off with myste-
rious nods and smiles. As they turned the
corner Mrs. Ainsworth called down:
"Five o'clock then ? "
"To the minute," replied her husband, with
a backward and meaning wave of the hand..

The afternoon shadows were falling across
the lake, and the mountains were of a deeper
blue, when the two celebrators," as George had
joyfully called his father and himself, toiled
up the hill at the close of that. long, happy
summer's day.
It had been a great success this patriotic
pilgrimage to the very rock upon which the
beloved though uncertain William leaped from
the tyrant's boat.
George's mother met him at the door and
urged him to hurry and dress for dinner, and
he was too much absorbed in telling her of the
day's events to notice her extra care over his
appearance; but he did exclaim with delight
when he found that the cherished initials were
fastened upon his very best suit.
And when he saw a knot of red, white, and
blue ribbon nestled in the laces of his mother's
corsage, he gave a little bound of delight, ex-
"Ah, that 's fine! No one could expect us
to act as though we were ashamed of the day,
could they, Mama? and he pranced up before
the long mirror, gazing with great pride at
the combination of military .and civilian attire
reflected therein.
Papa! where did you get that ? suddenly
rushing up to his father, whose coat-lapel bore
a tiny American flag.
A tap at the door, and inmrustled -riulein,
resplendent in her very best dress; and, behold,
she wore a tiny Swiss flag!

I think we are quite ready," she remarked,
taking George's arm, which he gallantly held at
its highest possible angle; and followed by
Mr. and Mrs. Ainsworth they slowly marched
from the house, to the melody of "Yankee
Doodle" softly whistled by papa, across the
street, and up the driveway to the villa.
By the time they were at the gateway,.George
surely knew that something delightful was hap-
pening; but, was determined to maintain a sol-
dierly composure. Hi- friends proved too much
for hinm, however, and his S.partan bearing was
broken by\ a \ hollv unmilita-r bound in the
air, as rounding a great clump (of shrubbery he
saw a sight that at once made him forget the
lady on his arm, the initials on his brc'it. and
S"Gieat Scott!" .
For. there stood the pavilion-like summer-
hofse, one lovely expression of American pa-
Red, white,, and:blue bu rings wreathed its
pillars and festooned its sides. Little Americ.in
and Swiss flags made a fluttering fringe from
its cornice, and from its pointed roof floated
a lovely silk Flag of our Country."
The baroness, the lovely.English "angel"
and her grandfather, together with a strange
gentleman, tall, dark, and handsome, stood 'i a
little group at one side, and' moved forward
to greet the approaching guests.
George could never remember what he said
or did the next .few minutes. The baroness
seemed dressed in the American flag, and the
"angel" to float up and down in a white cloud,
waving flowers; but what he really saw was
the knot of national colors on the baroness's
bosom, and Miss Alice in a lovely white dress,
with. roses and forget-me-nots on her corsage,
for the colors of the day.
Then he saw that a beautifully bedecked tea-
table was standing in the pavilion, toward
which the baroness soon led them.
George observed, with some uncalled-for in-.
dignation, that when seated at Miss Enderby's
side, the French gentleman at her other side
wholly claimed the lady's attention, and the
boy. was mentally arguing the justice of the
situation after this fashion: "Let 's see him
give up his Fourth of July for her, as I s'posed



I was doing! when the beautiful being at his
side turned to him, and said:
"I hope you see I am wearing your colors
very gladly to-day," pointing to the flowers
upon her bosom-"as gladly as I hope you
wore mine lately as a medal."

"How did she find out about it?" wondered
the boy.
But," she continued, "there are so many
things about America I cannot understand: for
instance, why do you have so many Georges in
America when you told George the Third you
would much rather 'play alone'?
SYou arn a George, and so
i, ,ur father. It really
-eemn to me you must
rather have liked the
old king, after all, to
S keep his name,"
s.tid the mischie-
vous girl, who ex-
pected to draw

The words
seemed fairly to
tumble over one
another as the
boy eagerly re-
plied: "George
Wa s ington,
Miss Enderby !
not George
the Third. All
our Georges
Shave Wash-
ingtons under-
stood in their
names. Don't
you see? "
Of course !
VP i How stupid of
me!" she re-
plied. So when
I think of you, it must
aln.i s be as George
i\\Vas.lugton understood)
Bo',rier Aiinsworth. Is that
it ? looking .:.t him with admir-

OF AMERICAN PATRIOTISM." ling eyes; "just the same as when
"I 've got it in a box," was the answer, at an English lady is named Victoria, she really is
which the lady laughed merrily. Miss Victoria (Guelph understood) Brown; or
I see you value your rewards of merit," she when h German boy is named Wilhelm, you
went on. I am very glad to be one of those must always think of him as Wilhelm (Hohen-
helping in this double birthday celebration." zollern) Schmidt. That 's the way it 's done,"



he explained, bursting into a hearty boyish
laugh in which his companion joined.
"I hear you think the English navy ought
to be large, so as to be ready to pick us out
of the water when we fall off our little island,"
said the old Irdian officer.
George blushed furiously, and looked re-
proachfully at the landlady, to whom he had
once confided that humorous theory. The old
man went on.
"You and I must discuss that matter some
day, my boy; I :can't let American citizens
get false impressions to take back to their
native land," arid lifting the glass of lemonade,
which did duty for wine at this American
banquet, the :old Indian officer rose slowly,
and standing very erect, said:
I propose the health and happiness of the
whole world!"
All sprang to their feet, glasses were raised,
merrily clinked, -and lifted to their lips.
Then the baroness followed with:
To the brave of every country! which was
gravely received with the thought in every
heart of the hero of Sedan.
The Swiss Frdulein next spoke, and said:
"The old republic "-waving her tiny flag
with the Maltese cross-" salutes-her younger
sister!" which was received with tumultuous
Miss Enderby, with a roguish glance at
George, raised her glass, saying:
"I drink to the reign of the two American
Georges -Washington understood! which was
received with a burst of laughter.
Last of all, the gentleman beside Miss En-
derby held his glass high, and speaking with
a marked French accent, proposed that all
should drink to the future prosperity of "the
Chief American Citizen of the Swiss Regiment,"
and all broke into a gay little cheer.
George's cheeks were very red, but .he made
a creditable bow in response, and was much
relieved when these unwonted table ceremo-
nies were ended, and they strolled out upon
the lovely lawn to watch the glow fade from
the mountains and the cold gray blue steal over
their majestic crags. /
The evening shadows were falling as they
finally adjourned to the piazza, when the old

man drew the child beside him, telling him
such wonderful stories of life in India that
George did not see that while the other ladies
chatted together, the young English girl strolled
across the lawn attended by the French stranger,
and was lost in the shrub-bordered walks, nor
that his father had disappeared.
The darkness fell in soft gloom, but the
balmy air charmed all into content, and no
one cared to enter the house. George, keyed
to the highest pitch of excitement, was helping
the old soldier kill a tiger in a jungle, when--
whizz, whir-r-r a rocket hissed over their
.heads, leaving a lovely golden shower to flutter
down and slowly disappear in the darkness.
George sprang to his feet with a shout, and
like a shot was off across the lawn to help solve
the mystery of those forgotten packages-
when he stopped short.
Just before him stood Miss Enderby and
Monsieur Videaux. They had not heard his
light step on the soft turf, and these two sen-
tences were spoken in his hearing:
"Miss Alice, do you think you could be
converted from the monarchical system aiid
learn to love a republican of France?" asked
Monsieur Videaux very eagerly.
"I think it would depend entirely upon,-
the republican," Miss Enderby replied hesi-
By that time George was beside them, and
was passing by, when, his quick eye took
note of a transfer which had been made since
he was last in their presence.
The roses then worn on Miss Enderby's
dress now decorated the lapel of Monsieur
Videaux's coat.
A great wave of injured disappointment
surged high in the boy's heart, and, borne on
its crest, he was swept quite beyond his own
control, and impulsively burst forth with:
Oh, Miss Alice you said you never gave
any one your very own flowers to wear, unless
your whole heart went with them / "-and then
dashed off like a human rocket, leaving a long
trail of consequences following this explosion.
An hour later, as the guests were taking
leave, and George was enthusiastically thank-
ing one and all for "the very gloriousest
Fourth" he had ever had, he was probably



the least mystified of all the party at an unex-
pected burst of grateful appreciation from Mon-
sieur Videaux, who, standing beside him with
Miss Enderby's hand resting upon his arm,


ni nhe alv coI
In winter mel

bent his tall figure to shake George' hand
with great warmth, and said with emphasis:
"I zhall all my life be deeply grateful for ze
assistance of- an American Citizen."

wst m&ke bhe bebr
-w t oa.sT,
In euin r





[Begun in the November number.]
IT seemed to Ned Wentworth as if the cave-
man vanished, so suddenly did he disappear
among the shadows, after his warning. Ned's
own idea, however, was that Beard had not
at all exaggerated the peril they were in.
When he took out the bark door, to go in, it
occurred to him that the ground in front of
it was plainly foot-marked.
"That's dangerous," he said to himself.
"All of us but Beard wear boots and shoes
and leave tracks. There will be a regular
path made, and the blackfellows will find it.
We must get away from this place before they
do; so must Beard. I don't think he is crazy
exactly, but then he is the queerest kind
of fellow. I wonder if he has n't been a
Meanwhile Ned pushed along through the
Suddenly there came a low growl, very
close to his face.
S" Why, Yip!" exclaimed Ned, I hope you
and the other dogs remember me!"
The dogs did remember him, for the growl
was followed by whines of eager welcome. All
the rest were sleeping soundly.
"I '11 go to sleep, too," said Ned. "I am
glad I did n't waken them."
He put more wood on the fire, and lay
down near the other sleepers, and the dogs
also lay down again.
All were asleep there, but not everybody under
that mountain-side was asleep.
The cave-man was then in a kind of cellar,
with a flaring torch in his hand, looking down
at something on the floor. It was not a large
room, and it was ruggedly irregular, with no
entrance to be seen excepting a wide opening

at the top. On its flat rock floor lay rows and
rows of just such little bars of yellowish metal
as he had cast at his fireplace with his cru-
cible and his sand-molds.
"They're all pure gold!" he said aloud.
"Heaps of it! But of what use is it, to me
or anybody else? I took pleasure in gather-
ing it. There was danger, too, and plenty of
good, hard work. It kept me busy, and I
used to dream of ways to get out into the
world and spend it."
He was silent for a little, and then he went
on talking to himself.
"It is of no use. I see how it is. I shall
never get out of the bush. I must stay here.
Perhaps I can save them, out there. Perhaps
not. There are almost too many robbers and
blackfellows, and I don't see exactly how to
dodge them all."
He continued to stare at his ingots and to
consider their possible uses.
"If I could get out into the world," he
said, "and carry them with me, I could have
houses, and lands, and friends, and have a home
again, and not live and die like a wolf or a
savage. Burrowing in a cave, like an animal,
with nobody but wild beasts and cannibals
for neighbors!-and yet, for all that, I am
a very, very rich man!"
He said the last words slowly and sarcas-
tically, while he turned over some of his ingots
with his foot.
He turned away from the ingots, clambered
up through the hole at the top of the cellar, and
the light of his torch showed that he was in one
of the many wide cracks of that honeycombed
limestone rock. He walked along as if he were
At length he said, "I '11 let them all sleep
until they wake of themselves. They were all
up late, and they need a long rest. They have
plenty of hard work before them. I would better

go and water the horses. They will have work sociable, and love company. And, anyhow, it
enough to do before they get to the Grampians- must be almost daylight now."
if they ever reach there." He went and took a look at the sleepers
The passage he was
in led into the main
cave not far from the
chasm. He left his
torch there, and the
dogs paid no attention
to him when he came
noiselessly to get the
tin kettle. Yip and his
two friends knew it was
his kettle, and that he
was the man of the
Beard poured some
water down in a hol-
low of the rock for the
dogs to lap, and then
he went out. Next he
went up the long, sway-
ing ladder, almost as
easily as a sailor climbs
into the rigging.
Though fastened at
each end, above and
below, it was loose, and
it swayed about in the
half darkness left by his
torchlight. Close at
hand was the yawning
chasm, full of the roar
of the torrent below,
and few would have
dared go up or down.
Beard did not seem to
mind it, but went up
and down several times
to bring water. Each
time he came up, he
was absent for a while.
He must have visited
the horses, for at last
he remarked:
"There They will
get along well enough,
now I 've herded them together. And they can in the cave, and he gazed long and earnestly at
be found, too, when they're needed. They won't them, but said nothing. He stepped lightly
wander away from one another. Horses are past them, and soon returned with a rifle. He
VOL. XX.-45.




went toward his front door, but when he had
crept close to it, he hesitated.
"There 's danger in opening it," he said, "but
it's safer now than it will be an hour or so
He pushed very gently at first, and then
harder, but the door seemed to resist him.
"Something's the matter with it," he thought,
"but I can't hear anything. Somehow or other,
too, the peep-hole is plugged up, and I can't see
out. It is n't so dark but I ought to see at
least a gleam. I '11 widen it a little."
He drew his long, keen bowie-knife from its
sheath, and put the point of it into a slit of the
door that he had felt for with his fingers.
Yow! What's that ? exclaimed a voice
on the other side of the door.
Keep still, Jim! What on earth's happened
to you? "
I must have backed against something' with
a p'int to it. Something' on the bark," said Jim.
"It did n't hurt much, though."
The point of Beard's. knife had barely
scratched Jim as he leaned against the door,
but he was not hurt enough to draw his atten-
tion long from something in. front of him.
"Bill," said he, we were fools to come out
so early, but who 'd have thought of dingoes ? "
"This is a good enough place to face them
in," said Bill. "They 'll only watch us till day-
light. But it's a small chance."
We 've got to shoot," iaid Jim, "even if the
blackfellows hear us; They 're not near us, or
the wolves would n't be here."
It 's a wandering pack," said Bill, and
they scented us. Here are more of them!"
Beard lay still and listened, and he heard
enough to understand the matter. The robbers
were too uneasy to remain in their camp, and
this pair had ventured out in the first faint twi-
light of dawn, to have a hunt after him and his
They had found nothing yet-not even the
blackfellows; but a pack of the dingoes, which.
infested that forest because of its plentiful game,
had found them. The men had backed down
into the hollow between the tree roots as a good
corner to fight from. There they crouched
while all the bushes around the hollow became
full of snapping jaws, lolling red tongues, fierce

eyes, and sharp scratching paws that tore the
earth, in eagerness to get at them.
"Give it to them, Jim!" said Bill. "They 're
coming too close."
Crack, crack, crack! followed, and Beard
knew that there were no misses made at such
close quarters. Three of the nearest wolves
tumbled over, and the two fellows in the hollow
felt safer, for they could be attacked only in
"We 've killed some of them," said Jim.
"It 's getting lighter, too. Keep it up, Bill.
Steady, boy! There are not so many as there
Beard could see through the slit now and
then as Jim's body moved, and he was listening
If it 's the big pack," he whispered to him-
self; "it's all over with Bill and Jim. I don't
want to watch what 's coming."
"Bill," said Jim, "there are more dingoes
than I reckoned on. Quick! Give me the
"I did n't bring along any cartridge-box,"
replied Bill. I did n't suppose we'd need any
"That's my last shell, then!" answered
Jim, despairingly.
"And mine, too!" said Bill, as he fired
once more, and then drew his knife.

Beard hurried back through the burrow as
fast as he could go, remarking:
"It's enough to make one's blood run cold!
I 'm afraid none of us in here will ever get back
to the Grampians! "
None of the sleepers had been disturbed.
Even the dogs lay still, unaware that anything
strange or new was occurring outside.
The big dingo pack seems to have thinned
out a little," said Beard to himself, as he stepped
silently on through the darkness of the cave.
" I hope so. Luckily, they never stay long in
one place. They 'll go away as soon as the sun
is up. It 's the only big pack I ever heard of.
They usually hunt in squads."
He disappeared, and another hour went by,
and another, and then at last Sir Frederick
Parry awoke and sat up.
Hugh, my boy," he said, are you awake ?"




"Yes, Father," said Hugh, as he sprang to his
feet. "And there's Ned. He's sound asleep-"
"Let him sleep,-he's tired out," said Sir
Frederick; looking up, he added suddenly,
"Why, there 's a coffee-pot !"
The voice of Lady Parry answered:
Coffee ? I 'm glad there is coffee. I was
just wondering what we should do about break-
fast. Helen, dear-"
I 'm awake, Aunt Maude. I 've been awake
quite a while. Are we all really here in a cave,
or am I dreaming? "
Here we are," said her uncle, standing up;
and as for breakfast-"
"Put the kettle on," said a voice from the
dark. "There's plenty of coffee, but no milk
or sugar. The cups are by the fireplace. Come
this way, Hugh, and we'll get the kangaroo.
Bring a lighted torch with you."
Kangaroo !" exclaimed the baronet. Where
can he catch kangaroos, down here, under-
ground ?"
"Why," said Hugh, as he held the end of
a torch to the fire, don't you remember?
It's the one we shot at our camp, when the
dingoes drove them into it. We brought it here,
and hung it down in Mr. Beard's refrigerator,
as he calls it."
That 's it, is it ? said Sir Frederick. I had
forgotten all about the refrigerator."
Hugh went with Beard, and in a few minutes
he returned, carrying a good supply of fresh,
nice-looking cutlets, all ready to broil. In the
meantime Lady Parry had given attention to
the cooking, and the coffee-pot was steaming
over a bed of hot coals. Suddenly Lady Parry
called out:
"Where is Mr. Beard ? I wish very much to
see him."
She spoke so earnestly that she awakened
Ned, and he sprang to his feet, rubbing his
eyes. Hugh replied:
."Why, Mother, he has gone on another
errand, and he said nobody was to go out at
the front door on any account."
Did he say why?" asked the baronet,
hastily; but something that he saw in Hugh's
face made him add, "All right. I suppose
he knows why. Now we will have our coffee.
He made his own coffee-cups, apparently."

Sir Frederick picked up, one after another,
several rudely shaped earthen cups that lay
near the fire, and examined them.
Beard himself needed breakfast as much as
anybody; but, for some unknown reason, he
had decided to eat it alone, without coffee.
At that very moment he was cooking for him-
self over a fire he had kindled in the roofed
cranny of the rocks at his side door. The sun
was well up in the sky before he had finished
his meal.
I think it is time now," he said, for me to
go and see how things look under the big
He went cautiously, scouting from rock to
rock and from tree to tree, all around the
broken angle of the hillside. He proceeded
more and more carefully as he approached his
own front door, although he remarked to him-
self, Of course the dingoes are gone,-and
so are the men."
He reached the spot at last, and glanced
rapidly around.
Is it possible! he exclaimed. Well, the
whole pack must have been here. But the rifles
are gone, and even the knives! Nothing left!
Have the blackfellows come here? Or have
the four other rascals been spying about?
Somebody must have finished what the dingoes
That was evident. Only human hands could
have left his yard entirely clear of some proofs
of what had taken place; yet there were only
scattered cartridge-shells.
It must mean blackfellows," he said. "They
never leave behind a strip or rag of cloth. I
don't think either they or the robbers are likely
to come back to this place, but the wolves will
be sure to come. Our chances are about as
bad as bad can be. I must have a talk with
Sir Frederick, but I won't see the others."
He opened the bark door as he spoke, and
disappeared in the burrow.

IT was a blue morning, in spite of the sun-
shine, at Sir Frederick Parry's river-side camp.
The men were all up, but no two of them were


of the same mind as to what they were to do
"We can't go back to the Grampings with-
out them," said Marsh.
I 'd spend the rest of me life here a-huntin'
for them," said Bob McCracken with energy,
"before I 'd give it up they were gone."
The other two men had nothing to say.
"Boys," remarked Marsh, after a long silence,
"we '11 see to the losses and mules, and then
we '11 have another day's hunt. There 's no
telling but we might find them, somewhere."
They had much to say about blackfellows,
while they were getting ready, and they were a
gloomy, downhearted set of men. Again and
again they regretted the absence of the dogs.
Yip and his two comrades were very busy at
about that time. Without orders the three dogs
had undertaken an exploration of the cave, but
the mystery of it had seemed to be too much
for them. They came back from the edge of
the chasm with drooping tails, and, sitting
down, they all barked and howled in that
Maude," said Sir Frederick, "it is very re-
markable how the echoes of that howling mul-
tiply. It sounds as if there were a hundred
At that moment something new caught his
eye, and he arose and walked to the other side
of the cave.
"I declare!" he said, as he picked up the
crucible. A regular smelting-pot. Slag, too.
Maude, this fellow has been melting down me-
tallic ore of some kind or other. It is curious.
There is no metal to be found in rock of this
character. No mine of any description can be
around here- But, then, this is an extraordi-
nary country."
He studied the crucible and the slag a
moment, and then said:
"I hope Beard will return soon. He said
he could easily guide us to the camp. I 'd like
to know what the men are doing."
We may be thankful indeed if we ever find
it again," said Lady Parry. Even at best it
may take a week to reach the Grampians per-
haps two weeks."
"Aunt Maude," said Helen, with a face beam-
ing with courage, "now that we are all together

again, it seems to me I can endure anything.
Last evening, there I was, all alone in the
woods, worn out,-oh, how glad I was to
see Ned and the dogs come! Hear those
dogs, now! "
They were indeed making a great noise, and
the sound seemed to be echoed back in pecu-
liarly mournful howls, pitched in different keys,
vastly increased in volume, and very much
confused and mingled.
"It's queer," remarked Sir Frederick,-
"it is really extraordinary that the noise of
those dogs should separate and multiply, and
change so in being echoed. I must ask Beard
if he has noticed anything of the sort. I
thought, a moment ago, that I almost recog-
nized Yip's howl among them."
It was very curious, certainly; but everybody
has noticed what odd effects echoes will have
at times. Everything about the situation of the
Parry family was uncommon, as Ned and Hugh
were even then saying. The main point which
they were arguing was whether they should
venture to disobey Beard's injunction and take
a look out into the open air.
Meanwhile a very different series of conver-
sations took place elsewhere. The men in Sir
Frederick's camp were talking much of him,
and wishing he were there to give them fresh
The four bad fellows, in the camp by the
waterfall, were discussing the fate of their two
comrades who had gone out so early and
had not returned.
"What on earth has become of them ? was
asked again and again; but there was no

But Jim and Bill had not fallen victims to
the wild dogs. While they stood at bay with
drawn knives, resolved to die fighting, and
hopeless of rescue, the band of blackfellows
came running through the woods.
They knew how to frighten dingoes, and
at once set up a chorus of wild yells. This
diversion, together with the stout resistance
made by the white men, was too much for the
pack. With one accord they turned and made
after the blackfellows. No sooner were the
besiegers gone than Jim and Bill ran into the




woods, and climbed trees. The blackfellows
had previously adopted the same plan.
The savages did not know that the white
men were so near. The rattling reports of
their shooting had first attracted the quick-
eared blackfellows, while now the fact that the
white men were not firing led the savages to
take it for granted that they had gone to their
The sun arose, and another very natural re-
solve came to the dingoes. They had watched
men in trees long enough, and enough of them
had been slaughtered to satisfy them for one
morning. They came to a howling decision of
that sort, at last, and the entire pack set off
upon an easy gallop along the mountain side.
Not one of them had been in sight when Beard
came out at his side door that morning and
went to examine his front yard.
At the foot of each of the trees which con-
tained the forlorn white fellows lay an empty,
useless rifle which seemed to look up mock-
ingly at its helpless owner.
"Bill," exclaimed Jim, suddenly, "look yon-
der! If that does n't beat me! "
"There he is," said Bill. "That 's the
man! He 's as unconcerned as if nobody
was after him! "*
Could n't we pepper him, just now!" said
Jim,-"if we had cartridges."
"But we have n't a cartridge," said Bill.
"Besides, we don't want to pepper him till
after we 've made him tell us where he 's hid
his pile of nuggets."
"That 's so," replied Jim; "but we 've got
something to tell the boys, now."
So they sat there in the tree-forks and
talked about Beard and of what they meant
to do to him, long after he was hidden from
their sight by trunks and foliage. He, on
his side, had no idea that he had been seen,
although he knew it was quite possible. He
was studying the wrecks and relics of the
fight between the dingoes and the two white
"How those brutes will devour one of their
own kind, as soon as he 's knocked over!" he
remarked, just before he went into his house.
"There seems to be nothing eatable that they
won't eat."

Ned and Hugh were still busy with the ques-
tion of whether they should venture out, when
they were startled once more.
Ned, come this way," exclaimed a voice
which Ned supposed to be at that moment
far away.
"I 'm coming," Ned replied; and then he
added, speaking in a low voice to Hugh,
" How that man does get around! "
"Well," said Hugh, "he knows the way.
The dogs are out yonder, and yet they did n't
hear him."
"Ned," said Beard, as soon as they were
together among the pillars, "I want to have
Sir Frederick come in here, and nobody else.
Do you know what 's the matter with those
"They are scared at the chasm, or at the
dark, I suppose," said Ned.
No, it's not that," said Beard, anxiously.
"Tell him to come here, right away. I know
dogs, my boy. There 's something in that
cave that 's alive and moving. What can it
be? Tell Sir Frederick to come here! Quick!"
Ned sprang back to the baronet and gave
his errand, in a swift, excited whisper, adding:
"Don't scare Lady Maude and Helen, nor
Hugh, either. Come! "
But Sir Frederick Parry was not easily
frightened. He rose, and answered:
I '11 go, my boy. You and Hugh put more
wood on the fire. Call in the dogs."
In a moment more, he stood face to face
with Beard. The two men were of nearly
the same size, but there was a marked contrast
between the long-bearded, roughly dressed man
of the woods, and the elegantly dressed, closely
cropped English gentleman.
"What is it, Beard ?" he asked; and Beard
told him rapidly all there was to tell about the
blackfellows and the white men outside the cave.
"Now, Sir Frederick," said Beard. "Do
you hear your dogs?"
Ned and Hugh were vainly trying to quiet
them, and Yip and the hounds were barking
"Remarkable echoes," replied Sir Frederick;
"very extraordinary, indeed! "
"Echoes!" exclaimed Beard. "Don't you
recognize that howl? How they got in I can-



710 THE WH

not imagine, but the great dingo pack is in this
cave! It comes into these woods every few
months. It comes and goes. It 's here now!"
"Wolves in the cave!" gasped the baronet.
"And there are cannibals and ex-convicts
"I 've had to face such things, year after
year," said Beard, bitterly; "but I 've been

alone. I never had to take care of women or
boys. I 'm glad we have so much fuel right
here. That will help. So will one thing more -
if we dare do it !"
What 's that?" asked the baronet.
"Why," said Beard, "we must build another
fire further down the cave. It will keep them
off, perhaps with some shooting to help, until
we dare venture out of the front door and try
to reach your camp."



"I 'm ready," said Sir Frederick. "You 're
a brave fellow."
Beard was truly a brave man, but the beads
of perspiration came out on his broad forehead,
as he stood and listened to the clamor, which
seemed to be momentarily increasing. Sir
Frederick's face, also, betrayed his feelings, and
now they both darted forward.
We must have
torches!" said Beard,
quickly. "All of you
Gather up pine-knot
sticks and light them.
Boys, bring all the
wood you can carry.
Load your guns. Let
the ladies help, too.
They can light torches
and carry wood. I 'm
glad there 's plenty of
Firewood "
"Helen," said Lady
Parry, "I don't know
what it is for, but some
danger threatens us.
We must do as he
"I 'can carry wood,"
said Helen. "I have
found a splendid torch-
stick. My revolver is
loaded, too."
The dry pine-knot
at the end of the stick
kindled swiftly and
threw a strong glare
of ruddy light over
her excited face, and
she looked very res-
(SEE NEXT PAGE.) olute.
Ned and Hugh sprang to their work with
but a dim idea of what it was for, while Yip
and the hounds redoubled their barking; the
noise from the other end of the cave also grew
louder and more hideous, helped as it was
by all the echoes from the sides and roof.
Bring the wood here, Sir Frederick," said
Beard, and they quickly halted at the very edge
of the chasm. We '11 kindle our fire here," he
went on. It 's odd, but I never made much


of a fire here before. I never brought any-
thing bigger than a torch."
Down went the wood, in a growing heap.
It was dry, a great part of it was resinous, and
it kindled fast. Up sprang the dancing blaze,
throwing a bright fire-glow upon the vaulted
roof, with its glittering white stalactites, and
upon the stalagmite-dotted floor, strewn with
fragments. Down into the mysterious chasm
went the new illumination; but all the party
were staring across the chasm, not into it, as
Beard exclaimed:
"It 's not nearly so wide as I thought it was,
but still they can't jump across. Look!"
They looked, and they all drew short, shud-
dering breaths, though they could not see much,
after all. It was only a darkness, into which
the firelight streamed, flaringly, showing an
anray of greenish, gleaming eyes, clashing teeth,
and shadowy shapes of heads and legs.

"That's the great dingo pack," said Beard.
"No doubt about it. How they got there
puzzles me entirely. I never was over on that
.side of the chasm."
Do you think they can find any way to
get around to this side ?" asked Sir Frederick,
Not that I know of," said Beard. "There
they are. The cave must go to the river-bank
on the other side of the mountain. It runs all
around it, you know-
"Ned! Hugh! Hold on! Don't shoot!"
suddenly shouted Beard, as the boys were lift-
ing their guns. "You '11 bring down a shower
of stalactites on our heads! There comes one!
Back to the front of the cave!"
Crash! And then a thunderous roar followed
the fall of that stalactite, mingled with the
mournful howling of the dingoes and the yelps
of the terrified dogs.

(To be continued.)



MADELINE is music-mad,
Dancing's her delight;
She is at it all day long,
From early morn till night;
Heel and toe, toe and heel,
Polka, waltz, Virginia reel,-
With a partner or without,
Madeline will whirl about.

Little does she care for books,
Little wisdom shows;
And 't is often said her brains
Must be in her toes.
When she hears the violin,
Then her ecstasies begin;
And her friends declare 't is sad
She should be so music-mad.



GOOD-DAY and a merry Fourth to you, my be-
loved--a merry, happy Fourth, containing, as
Deacon Green says, ninety per cent. of true pa-
triotism to five per cent. of racket and bluster,
leaving only five per cent. residuum for casualties!
That is the chemistry way of looking at it. As
for your own Jack, all he need say about it is to
remind you, one and all, that the American Eagle
is not a crowing bird. He takes a high view of
things; and sometimes, indeed, he may hug him-
self complacently with his ample wings,-but he
never crows. Remember that, my friends.
Here comes something fluttering upon my pul-
pit! It is from one who has been looking into
holidays generally, and especially into the Fourth
of July. It is a brief paper, so let us open our sim-
ple out-of-door service by reading it. Glancing
at the document hastily in a Jack-in-the-Pulpitty
sort of way, it strikes me as being rather scholastic
in tone, though simple in character. Of course it
is entitled
NOTED as is this day in the history of the Ameri-
can people, it really was a day of feast and celebra-
tion many years ago-long before the signing of
our Declaration of Independence. In Scotland it
used to be called St. Martin of Bullion's Day, and
was celebrated with great feasting and sporting,
especially by the Scotch peasantry. It was a com-
mon proverb that if the deer lay down dry and rose
dry on "Bullion's Day," it was an infallible sign
that there would be a good gose harvest. Gose was
the term for the latter end of summer, therefore
gose harvest meant an early harvest. Through-
out the whole of Europe, the peasantry (and, indeed,
many other people) believed that rain on Bullion's
Day betokened rain for twenty ensuing days.
It is a remarkable fact, too, that the two men
who were especially associated with the Fourth of

July-Jefferson and the elder-Adams, the first
being the author of the Declaration of Indepen-
dence, and the other its warm indorser--should
have died on the fiftieth anniversary of the great day.
THE same good correspondent, Zitella Cocke,
also sends you this breezy little song:
FOUR BROTHERS are piping o'er land and o'er
sea -
Each pipes his own tune and with good-will
pipes he,
And one like a clarion-trumpet doth blow,
And one plays a lullaby, sweetly and low-
And one wakes the waves with a blast wild and
And one murmurs softly to river and rill;-
Pray who are the Brothers?- perchance you
have guessed;
Look Northward and Southward and Eastward
and West,
And listen--hark! hark!--through the wood
floats a strain-
The West Wind is piping his joyous refrain !

Now you shall hear of certain very
DEAR JACK: Reading this evening in the February
ST. NICHOLAS a story of the exploit of some red ants, I
was reminded of an incident that occurred at our home
last summer- not, indeed, so wonderful a display of
intelligence as that told of in the verses, but still one
that interested us greatly. We witnessed what was, un-
doubtedly, the emigration of a tribe of black ants.
On the side of a piazza at the rear of our house is a
lattice. Upon a slat of this lattice one of us observed an
unusual number of ants; and soon the attention of the
whole family was called to their movements. The ants
were certainly changing their quarters from some place
in the roof or cornice of the piazza to a place under the
floor. There were two lines of ants: one going down
and transporting eggs the size of which differed little
from that of the bodies of the insects, and another line
going back to the roof- to reload, I suppose. All these
evolutions were carried forward along the top of one
slat, not half an inch in width. Whenthe dowA-going
ant reached the floor, he followed almost exactly the
same path that the others had used. This moving
continued until after noon. We did not notice the ants
again during the summer. Who knows but this migra-
tion is set down, in the annals of the tribe, as a most
important epoch of their history?
MY DEAR JACK: I saw a very funny scene not long
ago, an account of which may amuse the girls and boys
who read ST. NICHOLAS.
Five of us were driving through the country, on top
of a big coach, when a flock of sheep appeared on the
road before us. One little lamb with its mother had
lingered behind the rest; and, before we could stop him,
our naughty dog flew at the poor little lamb and began to
bite and shake it cruelly. We could not get to the res-
cue, and the frightened lamb was in great danger, when
a very strange thing happened. Four pigs, standing by
the fence, suddenly rushed up as if bent on rescuing the



victim. For a moment there was confusion, indeed.
Barks and squeals, and pigs, dog, and lamb had full
possession of our faculties, but the pigs soon drove the
dog away, and the baby lamb was saved. Now, did
you ever think that a pig would do so kind a thing? A
constant reader, K. C. H.
HERE come a letter and a picture that surely will
interest you -and as they both are true, it will be
perfectly easy after this day for all of you who
never have seen a live angel-fish to recognize one
at first sight. The dear Little Schoolma'am has
never been to Bermooda (as she calls it, though
Deacon Green always says Ber-mew-da), but once
she had the delight of seeing a fine specimen of
this fish swimming about in a large aquarium-tank,
and she assures my birds and myself that a more
exquisitely, superbly beautiful creature-in the fish
line-never crossed her vision." Mr. King's pho-
togr4ph of the scaly-or, I should say, radiant-
creature "fairly shimmered," as the dear Little
Schoolma'am expressed it; and brother Drake
of The Century Co. certainly has done well in
having the photograph so clearly copied for you.
Now for the fish itself:
beautiful of the fish that swarm in the waters of
Bermuda is the angel-fish, a photograph of which
is herewith sent you. This specimen was caught

in a fish-pot in Hamilton harbor, and photographed
while alive. The angel-fish varies in length from
ten to eighteen inches from nose to tip of fins;
and a most striking object it is.
With the sides shading from a pearly opal to an
intense purple; with spots of gobelin blue over each
eye, at the junction of each fin with the body, and
about the gills; with edgings of canary-yellow
deepening at the tip of tail and fins to a glowing
orange-as they swim slowly about in the clear
waters of the islands, they seem like animated spe-
cimens of some skilled jeweler's art: one who has
laid upon foundation-tints taken from sea and sky
richer hues, using for his materials lapis-lazuli,
opals, turquoises, sapphires, amber, silver, and
THE dear Little Schoolma'am asks me to an-
nounce from this pulpit that the very best cor-
rected version of A Misspelled Tail that had been
received up to the third of May, or printing-time,
was sent in by C. A. Burtch, of Brookline Park,
Illinois. Even this fine version, however, is not
absolutely perfect. The dear little lady therefore
asks that others among my delightful crowd of
young folks will try to write out Mrs. Corbett's
pathetic story with absolute correctness of spell-
ing. It is to be found in the April ST. NICHOLAS
of this year, page 475.





THERE is an old fairy story about a king
whose realm consisted of three beautiful cities,
which were so near one another that from the
walls of each you could see the walls of the
other two. The first city was called Lesson-
land," the second the city of Confection,"
and the third the city of Pastime."
The city of Lessonland was built of books.
Maps of every country and pictures of every
clime were upon the walls, and the motto of
the place was, Learn, learn, learn !"
In Confection the bricks used were not
books, but gingerbread; the bridges and fences
were of barley-sugar; and all the trees were
Christmas trees loaded with almonds and
golden nuts. All the people in this town
were very fat and comfortable.
In the city of Pastime everything was on the
toy plan-tops and hoops, bows and arrows,
kites and dolls, goat-carts and all sorts of gigs

and chariots running by clock-
.1 -. work. Even the animals and
insects moved about because they
h.iad been wound up with keys.
When the little people wished to learn, they
went to Lessonland, when they were hungry
they hastened to Confection, and when they
wished to play they crossed over into Pastime.
This delightful fable has been realized and
materialized within the grounds of the Colum-
bian Exposition. Here can be found the fairy
kingdom indeed, with all three cities under
one roof-the roof of the Children's Building.
Never in the history of the world has there
been a house like this. The idea, to begin
with, started in the mind of a warm-hearted
woman, who knew that during the long sum-
mer of wonder-seeing there would be so many
tired little feet, so many little strangers who
missed their gardens, their playthings, and their
books. She thought if men were to have
stately and magnificent structures, and women
were to have a white palace devoted to their
work and to their comfort, that the children
might have their own building, too.


It should be just as beautiful, just as useful,
and just as comfortable. She called into coun-
sel other wise women, and presently the idea,
which had been slowly growing, began to put
forth sprouts and branches. Then, behold! it
blossomed into a wonderful plan. The place
for rest and home care should be there, and
much besides. Everything pertaining to child-
life should be exhibited. It should be a real
But how was all this to be done without
money? The men in charge of the great Ex-
position had their hands full. They had nothing
to spare from their gigantic undertaking. So
the Board of Lady Managers, with true courage,
assumed the responsibility.
The cost,was apportioned between the sev-
eral States. An architect was' employed to
draw plans. But contributions came in slowly.
The whole plan was likely to fail for want of
money. Then a social and literary club, made
up mostly of young women, in the north di-
vision of Chicago, came to the rescue. They
held a bazaar, the like of which had never been
seen in the city. It brought into the treasury
$35,000. Besides this, children from all over
the land began sending in their contributions.
Then there was no longer any lack of money.
Out of this small beginning came the Chil-
dren's Building. In size it is I50 x 90 feet. It
is built of staff- a material which gives ele-
gant and substantial effects without the enor-
mous labor that would be required in using
ordinary materials.
It is decorated in colors, light blue predomi-
nating. Among other decorations are sixteen
medallions of the children of all nations in their
national costumes: Indian, Japanese, Dutch,
French, Spanish-children of every clime.
The first floor contains the Creche, a large,
airy, cheerful room, where one hundred children
can be cared for at a time, while their mothers
are out sight-seeing. The Assembly-room is
also upon this floor, and this is, perhaps, where
more interest will center than in any other part
of the house. It is furnished with chairs, like
any audience-room, except that the seats are of
several different sizes. There is a platform from
which will be given to the older boys and girls
stereopticon lectures about foreign countries,

their languages, manners ahd customs, and
important facts connected with their history.
These facts will be told by experienced teachers
and kindergartners, who will then take groups
of children to see the exhibits from the countries
about which they have just heard. In the
Assembly-room there will also be dramatic,
literary, and musical entertainments carefully
adapted to suit the intelligence of varying ages.
Distinguished people who are visiting the Ex-
position, will be asked to give familiar talks
about their special lines of work. Authors, ar-
tists, musicians, and scientists will all be called
upon to minister to the happiness of the for-
tunate little people.
On the second floor, kindergarten and kitch-
en-garden departments will be in full operation
for the benefit of mothers and others interested
in the best methods of instructing children.
Here will be also the cooking-school from the
Drexel Institute in Philadelphia. The Ramona
School for Indians is to be brought from Santa
F6, New Mexico. There are thirty pupils, and
they will bring all their furniture and decora-
tions, and will do their native basket-weaving
and other characteristic Indian work. There
will also be a school for deaf-mutes, where the
interesting process of teaching to speak and to
read from the lips will be shown.
The Library is as nearly a model one for
children as can be secured. Portraits of writers
for children, with autographs whenever that is
possible, are upon the walls. The favorite home
papers and the familiar magazines are to be
found, ready either to be merely glanced at or to
.be read at leisure. On the roof, above all this
busy lesson-life, is the playground. This is a
lovely garden, all inclosed with a wire screen
for safety. It is full of flowers and plants, and
live birds are flying about in perfect freedom.
Toys of all nations are on exhibition here, from
the crude child-trinket of the savage to the
talking, walking, working playthings of France.
And they are not for show merely, but for the
children to play with.
I think the women who have done most to
plan for and complete this Children's Building
should be remembered. They are Mrs. Potter
Palmer, President of the Board of Lady Man-
agers, and Mrs. George L. Dunlap.



PIPE: "Hello, Bubble! What's the trouble ? -SUSPICIOUS CHARACTERS.
BUBBLE: "Good-by, old fellow! I feel that I 'm going to A couple of Insoles who are suspected of being footpads.
sneeze, and I'm too fragile to stand that! "



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

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Is there any one among your
many contributors who can give a clear description
and directions for playing the charming and old-fashioned
game of "Cat's Cradle" ? It seems to have gone out
so completely that no one can be found who can go far-
ther than the fifth figure. I have a childish recollection
of an old aunt who could give us twenty or more moves,
each with its proper name, and I think the game is worth
reviving for this generation. Yours, etc. M. S-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy of ten years old.
I live at Pride's Crossing in the summer, and sometimes
I go to Europe, and in the winter time I live in Boston.
I have a donkey and a little cart, and I go out to drive
every day. One day the donkey was stubborn, and he
would not go at all. Then all of a sudden he commenced
kicking, and he knocked over the cart and I fell out, but
I was not hurt a bit. He is always doing things like
that. But papa says he is going to give me a pony, be-
cause he says the donkey is quite too dangerous for me.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You are one of the best maga-
zines I ever read. I do not take you, but the Pacheco
school does. Mr. Sickal is the teacher. One of the best
stories I ever read in you is The White Cave "; it is a
very interesting illustration of Australia; the kite, Uncle
Sam," is another good story. I make kites every year,
but they are only two or three feet high. I make them
the same shape as the Uncle Sam, out of sticks made
of redwood shakes, about three eighths of an inch wide.
Your affectionate reader, JOHNNIE S-- .

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for such
a long time now that I do not know what we should do
without you.
In the winter we live in Elizabeth, and during the
month of September we are generally at Garrison's,
opposite West Point. We often go over to see the flying
artillery, or dress parade, and often the) notes of the
hymn, which they always play on'Sunday evenings,
float across the water so that we can hear quite dis-
tinctly. With much love, I am always your very faithful
reader, GAY ROYAL T--
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy thirteen years
old last summer. My twin brother, Lionel, had a fall from
his pony and hurt his back, and it has never been strong
since. Papa had to go to Oregon on business, and he
brought us to America with him, thinking the change
would do Lionel good. He left us in New York with our
aunt, and there we saw dear ST. NICHOLAS. We were
very much interested in the Letter-box, and I am writing

this letter hoping that it will be published, as I want to
surprise Lionel. I like it very much in New York, for
as Lionel is not strong enough to study, we left our tutor
at home, and so we have all day to play. At home, in
England, we had to study from nine until half-past one,
winter and summer, besides preparing our tasks in the
evening. However; we had the afternoons to ourselves,
and before Lionel was hurt we generally rode our ponies;
but after his accident papa bought us a dog-cart and
taught me to drive tandem, which is fine sport. We
took our sister MabeL once, but the cart was so small it
crowded Lionel, and after that she rode her own pony.
I hope this letter is good enough to print, for if it is
I shall send it home to mama and Mabel.
Your devoted friend, WALTER A-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Being so pleased with the let-
ters in your Box," I thought I would add to your list.
I live about a block from the beach of San Francisco
bay. From every window in the house we can see the
Pacific Ocean on the west, the city on the south, Oakland,
Alameda, and Berkeley on the east, and Mount Tamal-
pais, San Rafael, Saucelito, and Alcatraz on the north.
We see every steamer, ship, or vessel that comes and
goes in the harbor. Last summer I went to Alaska.
My sister corresponds with Indian girls at the Metlekatla
Mission. Their letters are very well written (but very
I like "Polly Oliver's Problem" very much, as Mrs.
Wiggin used to teach my brother and sisters when we
were very small. I think she means our family when
she says she went to amuse the four little Baer Cubs
instructively, which is very true. I belong to a club
'where we assume names; and I take Mrs. Wiggin's
name; another member takes the name of Louisa M.
Alcott. From your constant reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old. We
have had you for about nine years in our family, and I
enjoy reading you very much.
The other day I received a letter from a lady, in which
she inclosed a beetle about as large as my finger-nail.
At first we did n't know whether it was real or only
manufactured; but after examining it for a long time,
we concluded it was a real beetle. It looks like a very
small turtle with a thin yellow disk -like the shell of a
turtle. The disk is transparent. At the front there are
two feelers, and it has six legs. The colors are a'bright
red, yellow, and brown. I have a nice magnifying-glass,
with which I can examine it. The first night I had it I
gave it some bread.
Our unusually long winter is just about over now. In
the place where I live we have no snow or ice. In the
summer it gets so hot that we go up to the hills for some
coolness; there we get a lovely view of the snows. In the


morning they look very pretty. Sometimes, in the mid-
dle of the day, when the sun is shining on them, the
mountains glitter so, and look so bright, that they almost
dazzle your eyes; but they are prettiest in the evening
when the sun is just setting; they have a purplish glow
all over. Though this has been an unusually cold winter,
for in this place the mercury has hardly ever gone below
the freezing-point. Last summer, once, the mercury
went up to I2O0 in the shade.
I am your constant reader, FRANK H. N- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am going to tell you of a little
bantam hen my brother once had. We used to let it in
the house, and one day mama called me to see something,
and there, on the top of the sideboard, was an egg. The
hen had gotten into the house somehow and laid the
egg on a little mat that was on the sideboard. One day
we found an egg on the parlor table. A few days after-
ward I went into the parlor and saw the hen running
over the mantel. There was a little china cup on the
corner of the mantel, and the hen had knocked it over
and broken the handle in its hurry to get away. When
I looked back of the cup I saw another egg. The hen
also laid an egg in the middle of a bed. We were very
sorry when it died, and missed it very much. We had
other bantams besides this one, but none were so bold.
Your loving reader, HETTY M. A-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years
old. I was born in Peking and lived there more than
seven years. I like your stories very much. I remem-
ber when you published the story "Juan and Juanita."
While I was in America I made the acquaintance of
some little girls about my age, and I correspond with
I have not been in China very long this time. I am
going to tell you of my voyage. We started.from New
Haven, Conn., the 7th of September, and were in Bos-
ton, Mass., at eleven o'clock P. M. The next day my
uncle, Lieutenant W. W. Gibson, took us for a drive;
we saw the house where Longfellow used to live, and
the old elm-tree where Washington first took command
of the American army. The next day we started for
Montreal, and arrived there in the evening and changed
trains for Vancouver. To pass away the time I counted
all the prairie-dogs I saw. At Vancouver we took the
steamer "Empress of China." The third day out we
struck a severe storm, and later encountered a typhoon.
After two weeks we arrived at Yokohama and in a week
more we arrived at Shanghai. Just before you get to
Shanghai there is a river, and in the river there is a
large sand-bar; the Chinese call it the "heavenly barrier."
After a few days' stay in Shanghai we took a smaller
steamer for Tientsin; on the way we passed through a
terrible typhoon, and it seemed as if the ship would go
to pieces every minute. A British mail-steamer, the
"Bokhara," going south to Hongkong, was wrecked in
the same typhoon, and nearly all on board were lost;
those who were saved were washed up on one of the
islands on which the ship struck, when she sank with
all on board. We arrived in a few days at Tientsin and
took a house-boat to Poating. A house-boat is a small
boat with a covering; if the wind is not blowing the
boatmen use very long poles, with which they push it;
and if the water is so deep that the poles can't touch the
bottom of the river, they fasten a rope to the mast and

draw it. We were on the boat a week, arriving here on
the 7th of November. Your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you ever since
you were published, and think you are by far the nicest
magazine we take.
I live in the historic old town of Winchester. We
have a spring here by the name of "Suwanee." They say
when the Indians lived here, they believed that if they
drank of that spring they were sure to return before
they died, and if by chance they died away from here,
they were always buried with their heads in this direc-
tion. Lord Fairfax's remains are in the Episcopal church
here. The author of "Juan and Juanita" lives about a-
mile from here in a beautiful country home.
My favorite stories are "Little Lord Fauntleroy" and
"Juan and Juanita." Your interested reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are three little children,
and have had ST. NICHOLAS for a very long time, and
love it very, very much. Our little brother's god-
mother has sent it to him ever since he could walk. We
live not very far from the Giant's Causeway, and have
often been there. There is a Lady's Wishing-Chair, and
they say that if a lady makes a wish in it, the wish will
be fulfilled within the year. We have a Causeway stone
at the side of our drawing-room window. It has seven
sides, and is very queer. A young lady was here from
England when it came, and she christened it "The
Lady's Wishing-Stone," and then we made a "freet"
about it. You have to walk round it three times, sit
down with your eyes closed, take a crooked pin from
somebody, and then wish, and you are sure to get your
wish; and mother says ours is about as true as the other
things they tell at the Causeway. The Bann is in our
parish, and we often get salmon and trout that are caught
in it. I hope ST. NICHOLAS will live as long as we do.,
With much love from your affectionate readers,

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Johanna T. T.,
Elizabeth B. and Ollie W., Alice K. H., Hamilton M.,
W. P. L., Grace W., Helen F., F. and A. S., Clarence
G., Carl C. T., D. S., Walter F. K., R. S. F., James
L., Hilda L., Clarence, Lillus S.,Belle H., Arthur P. G.,
Jr., F. I. E., Stuart and Elbert B., Alice O., Ellen D.
R. F., Bertha S., Edith S. D., Fred and Joe, Geraldine
B., Avis K. B., Lucile J., Anna L., Bertie," Louise G.,
Gertie T., Emily P. G., Agnes B., John B. D., Thos.
H. D., Lucile V. P., Albert E. R., L. V. D. B., Marion
V. R., J. E. M., George E. F., Edith M. H., S., M. E.
I., Susie P., May M., Jessie B. F., Mary M., James
McV., Elizabeth H. W., Blanche B., Bessie T., Made-
line J. P., Hettie, Frances C., Katharine M. A., Phyllis
N. N., Waldo C. J., Anna M. M., Adda M. G., J. West
Rulon C., E. and M. B., Fanny H., Alice and Mary,
Dagmar F. N. K., Mina S., Ward J., B6eb," Edith G.,
Gussie B., Maude A. W., Vivian C., Madge L., Gerald
A., Mary FitzG., A. W. 0., Muriel D. E., and the fol-
lowing pupils of the Central School of Fresno, Cal.:
Della B., Grace S., Frank 0., Alien G., Mary B., George
S., Vivian R. W., Virda C., Cecilia E. W., Nellie S., and
Roy A.

METAMORPHOSES. I. Bland, blank, blink, slink, slick, slice, RHOMBOID. Across: i. Adapt. 2. Opera. 3. Tails. 4. Rasps.
spice, spile, smile. II. Holy, hole, pole, pile, wile, wily, oily, only, 5. Loyal.
inly, idly, idle, isle. ANAGRAM. George Washington. DOUBLE SQUARES. I. I. Carat. 2. Atone. 3. Robin. 4. Anile.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Pasha. 2. Actor. 3. Storm. 4. Horse. 5. Tenet. II. i. Straw. 2. Tribe. 3. Rider. 4. Abets. 5. Werst.
5. Armed. II. i. Quota. 2. Umber. 3. Obese. 4. Testa. 5. Arear. INTERSECTING WORDS: From x to 2, builder; from 3 to 4, sailors;
III. i. Dream. 2. Rondo. 3. Endow. 4. Adore. 5. Mower. IV. from 5 to 6, Holland. Cross-words: I. Bothers. 2. Humoral.
i. Realm. 2. Ennui. 3. Anent. 4. Lunar. 5. Mitre. 3, Wailing. 4. Stylish. 5. Broaden. 6. Drunken. 7. Soldier.
WORD-BUILDING. I, in, inn, nine, inner, dinner, rending, trend- PRIMAL ACROSTIC. City of the Sun." Cross-words: I. Cal-
ing, tendering, pretending. lao. 2. Indus. 3. Tangier. 4. Yokohama. 5. Odessa. 6. Feejee.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. World's Fair. 7. Tripoli. 8. Himalaya. 9. Elbe. o1. Saguenay. iT. Utrecht.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Charles Kingsley; finals Peter Naples.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Charles Kingsley; finals, Peter ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG. Crneille. x Coral. Doves. 3. Purse.
Paul Rubens. Cross-words: i. Crisp. 2. Handsome. 3. Anent. LLU. Coeille. a. Coral. Doves. Purse.
4. Rapture. 5. Lemur. 6. Envelop. 7. Sofa. 8. Kiang-su. 9. In- 4. Crank. 5. Slate. 6. Chair. 7. Rules. 8. Album. Egret.
still. to. Neither. Iz. Gnu. x2. Sahib. 13. Lathe. 14. Effusion. STAR PUZZLE. I. P. 2. An. 3. Paraded. 4. Nature. 5. Dunes.
15. Yumas. 6. Erects. 7. Destroy. 8. So. 9. Y.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the r5th 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 APRIL NUMBER were received, before April i5th, from Paul Reese-"Uncle Mung"-
Isabel, Mama, and Jamie- Mabel Gardner--Helen C. McCleary- Maude E. Palmer-A. H. and R.-" The McG.'s "-"Alice Mil-
dred Blanke and Co."--Ida C. Thallon- o and I-C. W. Brown-Carl and Paul Rowley-Chester B. Sumner-Hubert L. Bim-
gay -L. O. E.-" Infantry "- Rosalie Bloomingdale E. M. G.- Nessie and Freddie Mama, Maud, and Ethel-" Leather-Stocking"-
John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman-" The Wise Five."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April x5th, from Mary Makepeace, Amy T. Hallett, i-
Ethelind Swire, 2-Geo. S. Seymour, 4-S. S. S., --Richard N. Duffy, Jr., i-Helen Schneider, i-"Geti," Stapleton, --G. B.
Dyer, 9-Mabel A. Wheeler, i Willie E. and Alice C. Schoonmaker, 2 Melville Hunnewell, 4- Vincent V. M. Beede, 5-Louisa
Weightman, i-"Mr. Micawber," 3 -Lizzie A. Schilling, i -Nellie Louise Schilling, I -Blanche and Fred, 9 -Mama and Sadie, 5-
Bessie R. Crocker, 8-" Old Riddler," 2- Edwin Rutherford, i James A. Seddon, Jr., 2- Harry and Mama, 9--Clara Mayer, 2-
Gail Ramond, 9 -Toddy and Briggy, 9 Ida and Alice, 8- Charlotte A. Peabody, 9 A. and I., 8 Hortense Chegwidden, r -"Two
of the Three," 9-" Suse," 9- Carrie Chester, I -" Jink and Ray," 5 A. W. Rundquist, 3 Lottie and Maud, I Dora F. Here-
ford, 7-" Chloe, '93," 9-Josephine Sherwood, 9 Maud and Dudley Banks, 9 Grace P. Lawrence, i Harold R. Cardwell and Rufus
P. Spalding, I Marjorie and Helen Hill, r.


* ** 5 ,
* *


i *

* *


MBOIDS. 5. A diseased person. Downward: I. In tumblers. 2. A
conjunction. 3. Pale. 4. Always. 5. The principal post
at the foot of a staircase. 6. A word used by printers
which means to take out. 7. To knock. 8. A pronoun.
9. In tumblers.
IV. LOWER RHOMBOID. Across: I. An animal allied
to the weasel. 2. Ponderous volumes. 3. Small silver
coins. 4. Pertaining to the country. 5. To" send
back. Downward: I. In tumblers. 2. A preposition.
3. Twenty-eight pounds. 4. An Arabian military com-
mander. 5. A nocturnal animal found in Madagascar.
6. Dry. 7. A masculine nickname. 8. A Chinese
measure of distance. 9. In tumblers. "XELIS."

I. UPPER RHOMBOID. Across: I. Five hundred.
2. The joint on which a door turns. 3. To delay. 4. Span-
ish dollars.. 5. General tendency. Downward : I. In
tumblers. 2. An expression of inquiry. 3. An eyot.
4. A fastening. 5. The name of several species of herons
which bear plumes on the back. 6. A dialect of the
Celtic which is spoken in Scotland. 7. Yonder. 8. In
such manner. 9. In tumblers.
II. LEFT-HAND RHOMBOID: Across: I. Adeepblue
pigment. 2. A mental standard of perfection. 3. Ladies.
4. Slender, strong cords. 5. A step. Downward: I. In
tumblers. 2. The third tone of the scale. 3. To aug-
ment. 4. Loyal. 5. Tammy. 6. A season of fasting.
7. A large body of water. 8. The seventh tone of the
scale. 9. In tumblers.
III. RIGHT-HAND RHOMBOID: I. Aftermath. 2. Be-
came delirious. 3. More recent. 4. To lay a second time.


I. IN tense. 2. Aptly. 3. Emits. 4. A lizard.
5. A union of three. 6. Sorrowful. 7. In tense.
II. I. In lump. 2. A verb. 3. Lifeless. 4. An order
of exercises. 5. Blunder. 6. A seafaring man. 7. In
III. I. In marble. 2. To mimic. 3. A genus of
tropical plants. 4. A marginal note on a letter or other
paper. 5..To go in. 6. Atmosphere. 7. In marble.


I. A LETTER. 2. An article. 3. Hurried. 4. An
East Indian plant. 5. To filter. 6. Provoking. 7. Mov-
ing swiftly. 8. Trampling. 9. Impeding.
II. I. A letter. 2. A preposition. 3. To clear of
seeds by a machine. 4. Accumulation. 5. Texture.
6. Classing. 7. Boasting. 8. Traveling on foot. 9. A
kind of grouse which chiefly inhabit the northern coun-
tries of Europe, Asia, and America. "XELIS."


'EL HOUR-GLASS. 77-42-34-85-8- \ \
26 is an artificial
barrier over /
which men or
Shores leap in a
I 3 race. My 5-
84-36-12 is a
homeless child.
My 40-49-64-
52-67 is the
skeleton of a structure. My 32-
4 2 89-28-72-1I is pertaining to
fishes. My 53-86-70-55 is
most excellent. My 80-37-5'-
62-74-4 is a smith's shop. My
46-88-79-31-18 is to restrict
CROSs-woRDns: I. to a scant allowance. My 44-
A small animal. 2. A 7-82-91 is to exercise for the
musical instrument. 3. sake of amusement. My 20-15-39-76-2 is much exas-
To praise highly. operated. My 35-24-9-59-22-65-57 is an extinct -hairy
4. A swift animal, elephant of enormous size. L. W.

1 5. In hour-glass.
-~~ '6. A verb. 7.
Goes before. 8.
o o Joyful. 9. Timid.
S Central letters, a signa-
ture; from I to 2, margins;
S from 3 to 4, lawful.
H. W. E.


I HEAV scodle ym skobo dan hinded ym teals
Dan thornw ym clathes oscars het tage.
Ym lochos si tou rof a sosane fo ster,
Dan won rof eht closho-romo I vole eht steb.
Ym clohos-moor slie no eth wadome wied,
Wheer drune teh crevol eht seambuns hied,
Rhewe eth glon siven glinc ot eth symso rabs,
Nad teh sidisae winklet kile flanel ratss.


I. I. TENDER to touch. 2. Spoken. 3. A kind of
bird. 4. A feminine name.
II. I. An edible fish. 2. Surface. 3. To give a sitting
to. 4. To surfeit. FRANK BURGESS.


I AM composed of ninety-one letters, and am a quota-
tion from Emerson's works.
My 38-71-54 is a pronoun. My 30-16 is a conjunc-
tion. My 21-33-6 is to hasten. My 87-63-45-19 is a
covering for the human foot. My 73-27-25-58 is to
flutter. My 81-48-90-13 is an oilstone. My io-66-
3-61-50 is the central part of an amphitheater.' My
69-78-75-83-47 is to annoy. My 17-41-60-43-1 is aside.
My 23-14-68-56-29 is acting without deliberation. My


I 4 6

2 8

3 5 8

FROM I to 6, a covering for a carpet; from 2 to 7, a
glove; from 3 to 8, rovers; from I to 3, a trifler; from
4 to 5, making a harsh sound; from 6 to 8, fresh-water
tortoises; from I to 8, little songs; from 6 to 3, an idle
talker. "BEN BOLT."

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell a name
given to Democritus of Abdera.
CROSS-WORDS: I. The son of Odin. 2. A dull sound
without resonance. 3. The company of seamen who
man a ship. 4. That which feeds fire. 5. A sudden
grasp. 6. Prodigious. 7. To swallow eagerly. 8. Light,
familiar talk. 9. To throw or give out. Io. A diagram.
in. A gesture by which a thought is expressed. 12. On.
13. The handle of a sword or dagger. 14. Placid. 15. To
drive tarred oakum into the seams between the planks
of a ship, to prevent leaking. 16. The name of the ship
which carried Jason to Colchis. 17. A barrel-shaped
vessel made to hold liquids. 18. One without judgment.
19. What little Jack Horner picked out of the Christmas
pie. 20. An old and intimate friend. 21. Extended.
22. A large animal. L. w.



tsP- -~~s~~~/


University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs