Front Cover
 Their little jar (illustration...
 Watering the flowers
 Toinette's Philip
 The viking ship
 The wise man
 A fair exchange
 When my ship comes in
 The crown-prince of Siam
 The racoon and the rabbit
 The runaway
 Outwitting a shark
 The boyhood of Edison
 From Montresa to San Mateo
 A dark career
 The forgetful forget-me-not
 From Hakluyt's "voyages"
 A summer garden
 The white cave
 "St. Nicholas" at the fair
 The little bear of Cazadero
 The stormy petrel
 A page of spiders'
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00272
 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: VID00272
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
        Page 728
        Page 729
        Page 730
        Page 731
        Page 732
        Page 733
    Their little jar (illustration)
        Page 734
        Page 735
    Watering the flowers
        Page 736
    Toinette's Philip
        Page 737
        Page 738
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
        Page 743
        Page 744
    The viking ship
        Page 745
        Page 746
        Page 747
    The wise man
        Page 748
    A fair exchange
        Page 748
        Page 749
    When my ship comes in
        Page 750
    The crown-prince of Siam
        Page 751
        Page 752
        Page 753
        Page 754
        Page 755
    The racoon and the rabbit
        Page 756
    The runaway
        Page 757
        Page 758
    Outwitting a shark
        Page 759
        Page 760
    The boyhood of Edison
        Page 761
        Page 762
        Page 763
        Page 764
        Page 765
        Page 766
    From Montresa to San Mateo
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
        Page 770
        Page 771
        Page 772
        Page 773
    A dark career
        Page 774
    The forgetful forget-me-not
        Page 775
    From Hakluyt's "voyages"
        Page 776
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
    A summer garden
        Page 782
    The white cave
        Page 783
        Page 784
        Page 785
        Page 786
        Page 787
        Page 788
        Page 789
    "St. Nicholas" at the fair
        Page 790
        Page 791
    The little bear of Cazadero
        Page 792
        Page 793
    The stormy petrel
        Page 794
        Page 795
    A page of spiders'
        Page 796
    The letter-box
        Page 797
        Page 798
    The riddle-box
        Page 799
        Page 800
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


i' : i *' ,,

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^ato. V j -..-;:.--.A

(SEE PAGE 761.)



AUGUST, 1893;
Copyright, 1893, by THE CENTURY CO. All nghts reserved.

$ 1 F I were to ank a bright lboy
_. ( or girl. fresh fri:m the
Si school-book study of
"', s geograplhy. to: tell me
what Baltiniore is fam-
ous for, I should expect
Stnhi- answer: Balimore
k- -" i known as the MClonumen-
tal City." So it is. But that
is only one distinction.; Nc\-crtheie., we may
begin our survey of the cily with this phrase in
mind, and see to what it leads us.
Baltimore has long been called the Monu-
mental City. I do not know who first em-
pl. :yed the term, nor '\htn it came into use,
but as far back as i792 there'was an obelisk
on the outskirts of the town, t.ommiernoratiuig
Christopher Columbus. It was placed in an
obscure position on private property, and by
and by its purpose was ri.ngotten. so that it
came to be iegari'led c as a monument erected
by the owner of the property to the memory

of his favorite hors. Recendit its history has
been published. and it ranks to-d.y as first in
time, though rlo' iii art, 'among thel Ar.a-.ricna.
memorials oi the Geno.ce ri.ii gascr.
There are higher claims to the "" mo.uamnCal "
epithet. In the very heirt of the cir, on an
eminence perhaps ,n-e hundred feet above the
sea-level. there stand a i-oble marble coalmuzin,
probably -u.ge.ted by the weill--knoiT pillars
of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius in R..coae,
though not copied from either of them. It
fises to a height of 16o feet, and is sur-
mounted by a colos;,l statue of George Wash-
ington, designed by Caursici. Within -tlhe dcnly
settled part of the tirrn this is a most pi:riir-
esque point. "I don't want to be out oif sii
of the monument," a little boy was heard to
cry, as his nurse proposed to wheel his baby-
carriage oomew.hat farther than usual from the
corner of Mtr Vernon Place and Wi:ahRing,,n
Place, where this column stands. I don't
want to be out of sight oi the mnment" is


VoL. XX.

No. -10.


the natural impulse of the true Baltimorean.
Let him travel as widely as he will, he returns
to the Washington monument, and all that sur-
rounds it, with admiration and affection; and
well he may, for such a column, in such a posi-
tion, and surrounded by such dwelling-houses,
churches, libraries, and works of art, would be
an ornament to Berlin or to Paris.
Much nearer the water, close by the new
Post-office, stands a trophy called the Battle
Monument, because it commemorates the vic-
tory at North Point, where the British were
repulsed on the i2th of September, 1814. It
was by these structures that Baltimore gained-
its name of "the monumental city," long be-
fore Charlestown, Massachusetts, saw the obe-
lisk completed upon Bunker's Hill: long before
Crawford's impressive group was placed in the
State House grounds- of Richmond, Virginia.
In recent years other monuments in memory
of individuals, begin to appear. A shaft in
memory of Colonel Armistead, the commander
of Fort McHenry during its bombardment,
stands in the southern part of the city. The
Italians have erected in the park a statue of
Columbus, and a generous citizen of Scotch
descent is soon to place there a statue of Wil-
liam Wallace. The bronze memorials of Taney
and Peabody will soon be spoken of.
If the- visitor goes to the top of the Washing-
ton .monument he can survey a wide area that
is occupied by the dwellings of.more than half
a million inhabitants. To the south, at the
distance of more than a mile, he may see an
arm of the Patapsco, which makes the harbor
or basin of Baltimore; he may descry the ship-
ping, the great elevators, and the innumerable
manufactories sending forth their clouds of
smoke. He may possibly distinguish Sparrow's
Point, the site of new Bessemer furnaces, far
down the river. All this resembles the activity
of other great seaports. But there is in view
one point of unique interest, and if the historic
sense is on duty, the observer will be most in-
terested in making out the outlines of Fort
McHenry, where the star-spangled banner
" still waves" as boldly in the breeze as on the
morning when Francis Scott Key wrote his
immortal song. /
Turning toward the east, the spectator may

cast his eye over a great industrial district
known as Canton, and notice in the distance
the trees of Patterson Park, where the ramparts
are still standing that were thrown up in the
war of 1812. In that direction, Bay View, the
public almshouse of the city, is conspicuous.
Nearer by, just a mile to the east of the Wash-
ington monument, there is an extensive group of
buildings of which the central one is surmounted
by a lofty dome. This group constitutes the
hospital founded by Johns Hopkins, which is
one of the most remarkable charities of the
land. Every assistance that human ingenuity
has devised for the relief of sickness and suffer-
ing has here been introduced. But in addition,
here is a corps of renowned physicians and sur-
geons ministering to the needs of outdoor and
of indoor patients; and they are assisted by a
staff of qualified nurses who have been specially
trained for such service, and are training others.
If the observer looks to the north, he may
notice a turret at Clifton, the summer residence
of Johns Hopkins, beyond the grounds of the
Samuel Ready Asylum and those of the School
for the Blind; likewise the conspicuous tower of
Notre Dame, a Roman Catholic institution for
the education of young ladies; but his eye can-
not reach far enough to trace the succession of
lakes or reservoirs-Loch Raven, Montebello,
and Clifton-in which the water of the "Gun-
powder" stream is stored up for the supply of
Baltimore. He may discover in the distance,
at the northwest, the beautiful groves of Druid
Hill Park, the city's pleasure-ground, once a
.private estate, now a public resort, where'lawns,
trees, lakes, fountains, drives, and walks, in great
variety, afford perpetual delight, in winter and
in summer, to old and young, rich and poor,
athletes and invalids.
Directly west, within a distance of two or
three miles, are the highlands that extend from
the Relay House, on the south fork of the Pa-
tapsco, many miles to the northward. Numer-
ous counrtry-seats are situated on these heights,
commanding prospects that are wide and beau-
tiful. Here also several of the hospitals and
reformatories of the city have been placed.
Through the region thus surveyed two water-
courses run Jones's Falls and Gwynn's Falls,
streams of rapid descent, the natural drains of a



wide area. Over Jones's Falls many costly
bridges have been constructed, uniting Waver-
ley and the districts of the northeast to the cen-
tral part of the city. Many years ago, a clever
citizen, half in earnest, half in fun, remarked that
while Philadelphia and New York present flat
surfaces, Baltimore has "found its increase 'an
up-hill business,' and if the greatness of Rome

1864. This admirable work ranks among the
best portrait-statues produced in this country,
and some would say it is the very best with
the exception of the statue of Abraham Lincoln,
by St. Gaudens, in Lincoln Park, Chicago. It
is the work of William Henry Rinehart, a Balti-
morean, whose life was. ended in 1874, just as he
had acquired renown, at the age of forty-nine.




arose from its being on seven hills, the destinies
of Baltimore, that stands upon some seventy,
may indeed defy anticipation! "
Let the visitor descend from the monument,
having made himself acquainted with the lay of
the land, and explore the city. He will at once
be attracted by the works of art in the squares
around the monument. On the north is a
bronze statue of Roger B. Taney, of Maryland,
Chief Justice of the United States from 1836 to

The casts of his various works, and his marble
statue of Clytie, may be seen in the Peabody
West of the monument is the superb Lion
in Repose" (so called in distinction from the
"Lion Clutching the Serpent "), the work of
A. L. Barye of Paris,- a masterpiece by one
of the foremost of modem sculptors. Near by
are four smaller pieces,- beautiful allegories "
they have been called,- which were origi-


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nally designed to decorate the pavilions of
the new Louvre at Paris. They represent Peace,
War, Force and Order. As a counterpart to
the illustration of animal courage in repose,
the western end of the park is adorned with
a figure of a seated warrior, copied from one of

of Johns Hopkins,-but for some reason, the
mayor and common council have not yet ful-
filled the purpose they have long entertained
to pay a tribute of gratitude to the memory of
a great benefactor.
The large marble building which stands on


the figure-i on a nionuierit in O-rlean, to GCen-
eral Larmoricibre, by Paul Dubois. No city in
this country has such a group of works of art in
any public place. Baltimore oi es them all, and
the statue ofTaney. to the generosity of \\illiam
T. Walters, who resides near by. His famous
collection of paintings includes choice works of
the Barbizon school, and many other admirable
works by European and American artists. His
Oriental collections of bronzes, lacquers, and
porcelains, the finest work of Japan and China,
are equally remarkable. He has also a unique
collection of the works of Barye, perhaps the
most comprehensive in existence, including sev-
enty or eighty pieces, bronzes and paintings in
oil and water-colors. His galleries are often
opened to the public, usually for several weeks in
the spring.
On the eastern side of the monument is a
bronze statue of George Peabody, by William
W. Story, a copy of the one 'which stands near
the Royal Exchange in the city of London.
It is the gift of Mr. Robert Garrett. In 'Mt.
Vernon Place there ought to be also a statue

the corner near the monument is the Peabody
Institute, endowed by the philanthropist whose
name it bears. It might be termed an athe-
nmeum for promoting enjoyment and instruction
in the city where Mr. Peabody resided between
1815 and 1836. Here is a choice library, num-
bering more than one hundred and ten thousand
volumes, and a gallery containing many casts,
paintings, and statues. Here also is maintained
a conservatory of music, which provides syste-
matic instruction for those who wish to become
skilled as musicians, and gives every winter
many classical concerts for the entertainment
and instruction of the public.
The corner-stone of this building was laid in
1859. The west wing was finished in 1861.
The east wing was begun several years later,



and completed in 1878. When the library was
ready to be opened to the public, Mr. Peabody
came to Baltimore and was present at the
The gift of Mr. Peabody bore more fruit than
he had any reason to expect. It is well known
that his example had a strong influence upon
Johns Hopkins, who gave the principal part of
his fortune to found a university and a hospital.
Standing at the foot of the Washington
monument, and looking eastward, the hospital,
as I have already intimated, may be seen;
looking westward, the dome of an astronomi-
cal observatory rises above a substantial brick
building devoted by the Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity to the science of physics. Let the visi-
tor walk in that direction,. and he will soon
come upon a group of plain buildings which
will seem to him hardly worthy of the fame of
the university for whose uses they were de-
signed. Let him not judge, however, by the
outward appearance. Let him inquire into
their uses; let him examine their equipment.
He will find a group of laboratories, devoted
to physics, chemistry, biology, geology, miner-
alogy, and electricity, well provided with the
instruments and apparatus needed for instruc-
tion and research. At the present time he
will see the foundations of another large build-
ing which is to be devoted to the study of lan-
guage, history, and philosophy. He may learn
that these advantages are enjoyed by a com-
pany of more than five hundred scholars,-
three fifths of whom have already taken their
first degree, and are now engaged in advanced
studies under a corps of able professors. If
he investigates a little more closely, he will dis-
cover that hundreds of those who have been
taught in the university--since it was opened
in 1876-have been engaged as teachers in
universities and colleges and high schools in
widely distant parts of the country. He will
perceive that the university spirit pervades the
entire corps of students, who are aided and in-
spired by the learning, the devotion, and the
rendwn of a distinguished faculty.
At a short distance farther west a large plat
is devoted to the buildings of St. Mary's Sem-
inary, where two hundred students are now
training for the priesthood of the Roman Catho-

lic Church. In bygone days, St. Mary's main-
tained an academic department or college.
The grounds-directly opposite the university
belong to a school for young ladies. At the
head of Centre street stand the walls of the
City College, a high-school for young men,-
which may well be called the crown of the
public-school system of the city.
It is a walk of five or six minutes from the
Washington monument to the principal build-
ing of the Enoch Pratt Free Library-one of
the four great institutions which are due to
munificent gifts from Baltimore merchants. A
fine building and an excellent collection of
books may here be seen. In addition to this
central library, there are five branches in dis-
tinct districts,- all of them freely open to the
public. If the Peabody Library is likened to a
storehouse and the Hopkins Library to a bee-
hive, the Pratt Library may be regarded as a
reservoir from which the streams are carried
into every house.
Not far away from the Pratt is a social
library called the New Mercantile, where the
subscribers have the unusual privilege of di-
rect access to the book-shelves, and where the
freshest books and the current magazines and
newspapers are to be found. In the afternoons,
the comfortable chairs of this attractive room
are commonly occupied by some of the brightest
of the intellectual people of Baltimore.
In this neighborhood is situated the hall of
the Maryland Historical Society, which owns
an excellent collection of historical books, and
has many manuscripts, archives, and relics, il-
lustrating the history of Maryland. Special
libraries of law and medicine are near by. These
facts justify a remark which has repeatedly
been made, that no city of this country has
library facilities better than those of Baltimore.
The educational and literary resources of
Baltimore may be illustrated by a simple dia-
gram. Take a map of the city, and from the
Pratt Library as a central point, strike a circle
with a radius of half a mile. Within that cir-
cuit will be found libraries that include in all
about four hundred thousand volumes, and a
group of colleges and professional schools with
not less than thirty-five hundred scholars, ex-
clusive of those in attendance upon private



schools, and those of the "grammar" grade in
the public-school system.
Special mention should be made of the in-
stitutions .for the instruction of young women.
In addition to the State Normal School, and
the two Female High Schools, there is a Wo-
man's College in the northern part of the city,
which has had a remarkably successful growth
during the last four or five years. The Bryn
Mawr school for girls, which takes its name
from the Bryn Mawr College for women, near
Philadelphia, has. a new and excellent building
well furnished with many admirable appliances.
A few of the churches of Baltimore are fine
buildings. Among them the cathedral is for
many reasons the most famous. When the
last great council was held in 1884, it was
an impressive .and memorable sight to see the
archbishops and bishops of so many dioceses,
together with the.representatives of .the historic
orders,-Augustinians, Benedictines, Francis-
cans, Dominicans, and others,-proceed in
their distinctive robes, with their attendants,
from the archbishop's residence to the chief
portal of the cathedral before taking their
places under its spacious dome.
Two general conventions of the Protestant
Episcopal Church have been held in Balti-
more,-the first at Grace Church in 187 and
the second at Emmanuel Church in 1.892. St.
Paul's Church, at the corner of Charles and
Saratoga streets, is the mother church of the
Episcopalians. All these buildings are note-
The Presbyterian Church was established in
Baltimore soon after the Church of England,
and the first ecclesiastical society of that de-
nomination has a Gothic building on Madison
street, with a lofty stone spire, which is one
of the principal architectural ornaments of the
city. In general the newer churches, in dif-
ferent parts of the city and of various denomi-
nations, are attractive buildings. Among the
best are the Methodist Church on Mt. Vernon
Place, the Assbciate Reformed Church, the
Jenkins Memorial Church, and, close to the
Woman's College, the Methodist Church with
an impressive tower.
The City Hall and the United States Post-
office and Court-house, in the business cen-

ter, are large, new, and well-furnished build-
ings; but .there is a charm of quite a different
sort in the old brick Court-house near by,
with which the names of men distinguished on
the bench and at the bar are associated.
This may be to. the reader a tedious .enu-
meration of the buildings of Baltimore; for, after
all, they are not of extraordinary interest when
compared with those of other cities. An in-
telligent visitor may derive more pleasure in
discovering some good examples of modem
domestic architecture, and some relics of colo-
nial or at least of eighteenth-century architec-
ture still standing in the older portions of the
town. The rectory of St. Paul's Church, oppo-
site the Hotel Rennert, is one of the best of
these old dwellings. Next to it is a modern
dwelling where Johns Hopkins lived. Other
broad double houses, cube-shaped, built near
the middle of this century, are models of do-
mestic comfort, and it is a pity that they should
have been superseded by the narrow fronts that
afterward became the fashion. In the business
parts of the city, large structures, admirably
adapted to the wants of banks, trust companies,
insurance companies, and the offices of lawyers,
have multiplied greatly within the last ten years.
From this enumeration of. the institutions of
Baltimore, and this survey of its public build-
ings, let us turn to its society and personages;
for, after all, people are more interesting than
places. It is never an easy task for a resident
of a city to point out its peculiar charms.
Neither his praise nor his censure is likely to
be quite acceptable. Yet. one who has be-
come. acquainted with many cities; in different
parts of the world, .cannot but perceive that
the Monumental City has its distinct character-
istics, its attractive individuality. It used to be
said that in Boston a stranger was asked,
"What do you know? "-in New York, "What
are you worth? "-and in Philadelphia, "Who
was your grandfather?" I have never heard
any such queries here, though before long it
may be asked of young ladies as well as of
yoUn'g men, Where did you go to college ?"
Mr. George W. Cable, after spending for the
first time a morning in Baltimore, admired its
"thoroughly Southern appearance." When re-
quested to explain this observation, he said he




~ ~r f~ 5B~;~a ~ ~~~i~~.1 --6
*;.,:Z CC15

had noticed these peculiarities: the appearance
of comfort in the dwelling-houses, the content-
ment of the colored people, and the aspect of
leisure in the bearing of gentlemen whom he met
in the street. He had hit upon three character-
istics: comfort, leisure, and the ready and al-
most friendly service of the blacks. This was
truth, but not all the truth. Certainly, when
compared with the larger American cities
(Brooklyn excepted), Baltimore has an air of
quietness favorable to enjoyment. Neither
fashions nor affairs have gained the ascend-
ancy. When the Academy of Music was built
as a place of refined entertainment to be
owned and controlled by cultivated people, the
key-note of the speaker (Mr. Wallis, the un-
equaled orator of Baltimore) was "leisure."
To promote the enjoyment of leisure was
the purpose of Mr. Peabody's gift. The at-
mosphere of leisure has been favorable to the
development of institutions of learning. And

z so, along with this freedom from
all noise and bustle and this at-
mosphere of repose, we find socia-
bility, marked by frequent, easy,
friendly hospitality rather than by
balls and banquets. Philanthropy
and charity, even religious charity,

often assume the garb of enter-
tainment. Bazaars and fairs, pink teas and
strawberry festivals, plays and tableaux, all
have their turn. I write these lines midway be-
.tween two exhibitions of the "F&te of Queen
Louise"-a charming series of tableaux and
pageants in which the belles and beaux of
Baltimore are taking part (at a very consider-
able outlay of time and money), in order that
funds may be secured for a free kindergarten.
Not many years ago there were two exhibitions
of works of art for the sake of charity. Like
entertainments are of course given elsewhere,
but I doubt whether they are usually such so-
cial events.
Southern courtesy and Northern vigor meet
on this middle ground, the most Northern of
Southern cities, the most Southein of North-
ern." I have heard it said that English is
spoken with unusual purity of tone and pro-
nunciation by the ladies of Baltimore; and they
are as celebrated for their beauty as for their



graciousness of manner and excellence of speech.
Not a few have married distinguished foreign-
ers. The romantic story of Miss Patterson,
whose husband was brother of Napoleon and
King of Westphalia, has often been told. Nor
is it forgotten that granddaughters of Charles

He was repeatedly called into public life, and
as a member of Mr. Fillmore's cabinet signed
the papers that governed the Perry expedition
to Japan, and the second expedition of Dr.
Kane to the arctic seas. His stories "Swal-
low Barn" and Horse Shoe Robinson" were


Carroll of Carrollton became respectively Mar-.
chioness of Wellesley, Lady Stafford, and Duch-
ess of Leeds.
Many men of Baltimore have won national
fame. In the second quarter of this century
(perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say in
the thirty years before the opening of the war)
here were merchant princes, brilliant lawyers,
ready wits, skilful politicians, whose hospitality
became famous throughout the land, and whose
public spirit prepared the way for the intellec-
tual life of the present day. Some of those
who were then mature and influential are still
living, and as one after another they go over
to the majority, others take their places and
keep up their reputation.
Among the literary men of that time, Mr.
John P. Kennedy acquired a high distinction.

widely read. His influence on George Pea-
body is well known. It is said, but I do not
know on what authority, that an intimacy with
Thackeray led to Kennedy's writing one of the
chapters of "The Virginians" which called for
accurate local descriptions.
Dr. Holmes once said that Maryland might
claim the honor of having given to the world
three poems, each the best of its kind: "The
Star-Spangled Banner," "The Raven," and
" Maryland, my Maryland." Mr. Randall,
the author of the verses last named, the favor-
ite song of the Confederacy, is living, so I will
not venture to speak of him; but of the others
who were praised by the Autocrat, something
more than mention may be permitted.
Francis Scott Key is chiefly famous, as a poet,
for that stirring patriotic song, "The Star-Span-




gled Banner," which he wrote under circum-
stances of great excitement. The familiar story
will bear repetition to the youths of every gen-
eration. After their successful attack uponWash-
ington in the early autumn of 1814, the British
undertook the capture of Baltimore. Part of
their forces landed at North Point, some fifteen
miles below the city, and were repulsed by a
brave corps of volunteers. Meanwhile the fleet
of sixteen vessels proceeded up the Patapsco
and attacked Fort McHenry,. a very short dis-
tance from the town. :During twenty-four hours
uninterrupted volleys of rocket, and shell were
thrown toward the fort, but in vain. Key
watched the. battle, through a night of anxiety,
from the deck of a vessel which was near the
British men-of-war. He had gone there to ne-
gotiate for the release of a friend made captive
in Washington. The
-commander of the fleet
would not release the
prisoner or the negotia-
tor until the attack was
over. Pacing the deck
of this vessel while the
bombardment was in
progress, Key composed
the greater part of his
immortal song.
Edgar Allan Poe is a
nameof greaterrenown.
This extraordinary ge-
nius,unquestionably one
of the most brilliant of '
American writers, was a
Baltimorean by family
ties, though he did not. -
reside here for any long
periods. Richmond, VIEW INSIDE
Boston, and New York were likewise the scenes
of his short life. Yet it was .here that his
talents first 'received recognition and encour-
agement, when a prize of $ioo, offered by the
Saturday Visitor, was awarded to him, and he
was thus brought to the notice of Mr. Ken-
nedy and other literary men. Here his kin-
dred resided. Here he died, at the early age of
forty years, and here his body lies buried. In
1875 the teachers of Baltimore erected a mon-
ument over his grave.

To the names of these two poets that of Sid-
ney Lanier should be added; for although he
was a native of Georgia, it was during his resi-
dence in Baltimore, from 1876 onward, that he
acquired his fame. He was a musician, as well
as a poet and critic. His brave spirit, con-
tending against many difficul-,
ties, attracted the admiration
of devoted friends. His poems
have been read with increasing
favor ever since their publica-
tion. He died in 188i.
Baltimore is the only Ameri- i
can city where a cardinal of
the Roman Catholic Church
resides. Cardinal Gibbons fol-
lows a long line of distin-
guished prelates, Arch-

bishop Carroll, the Revo-
lutionary patriot, and Arch-
bishop Kenrick, famous as
a scholar and writer, being
among the most distin-
guished. Bishop Whitting-
ham, of the Protestant,
Episcopal Church, bore a
high reputation for learning,


and bequeathed to his successors in office a
valuable library.
Baltimore used to be a favorite stopping-place
for statesmen on their way to or from Washing-
ton, and when Barnum's Hotel gave place, a
few months ago, to a new and different edifice,
the names were revived of many illustrious per-
sonages who had there been entertained.
The drama was always encouraged, and
among the actors who won distinction here,
the Booths are sure to be remembered.


SThe bench and the bar of Maryland have
always held an honorable place in the respect
of the profession throughout the land. When
the names of those who have distinguished
themselves as lawyers and statesmen come to
mind, it is hard to determine which are most
worthy to be mentioned. Not a few are eminent
both as statesmen and as judges. Many have
left behind them the reputation of learning,
eloquence, and wit. Charles Carroll of Car-
rollton, the last surviving signer of the Declara-
tion, Robert Goodloe Harper, William Wirt,
and William Pinkney were among those who
acquired a national fame. Roger B. Taney
and Reverdy Johnson belong to a somewhat
later period.
At the present time the foreign commerce of
Baltimore consists largely in the shipment of
grain, tobacco, and cattle. Frequently steamers
cross the Atlantic to English and German ports.
The trade with Brazil, mostly by sailing vessels,

are gathered in the neighboring bay, and are
here packed for distribution all over the land.
The terrapin, the soft-shelled crab, and the
canvas-back duck are at home here, and the
remark has been heard that as this is the gas-
tronomic center of the country, a terrapin, sur-
mounted by a duck, ought to stand on top of
the Washington monument.
As a commercial city, Baltimore has had the
advantage of its position, near the head of
Chesapeake Bay. Early in the century it was
at the eastern end of the national highway
that crossed the Alleghanies. The Baltimore
and Ohio Railroad was almost the first to put
into' service the steam-locomotive. It is now
one of the great trunk-lines of the continent, con-
tributing in innumerable ways to the welfare of
the community. The Pennsylvania railroad sys-
tem has also fixed upon Baltimore as one
of its most important centers of operation.
The first electric telegraph extended from Bal-

Ik E

is also important. Formerly large quantities of timore to Washington. Illuminating gas was,
sugar were imported, and at an earlier period it is claimed, first introduced here.
the white wings of the Baltimore clippers were Modern industry turns toward manufactures,
famous all over the world as they brought with and Baltimore has its fair variety of establish-
fleetness the products of China to the harbor of ments which employ a large number of per-
the Chesapeake. sons. Its silverware has been famous for three
The oyster-beds are among the sources of generations. Its porcelain has acquired a wide
the wealth of Baltimore. Immense quantities reputation; its bells chime in hundreds of
., .....;., ,-_~;~
is~~~~ aloiprat omrylreqates ftmr oWsigon luiaiggsws

. .-- -.-r.i.




towers. The printer's
craft is held in honor;
lithography thrives;
furniture and clothing I
and manifold minor
articles are produced
in great quantities; iron-
foundries, copperworks,
oil-refineries, Bessemer
furnaces, sugar-houses,
and machine-shops em-
ploy large amounts of
capital. The type-set-
ting machine, one of the
most ingenious pieces t
of mechanism mankind
has invented, is a Balti- -
more invention.
All these industries
are promoted by the lessons given
Manual Training School, and by the e
classes maintained at the Maryland In
in its School of Design-the forerunner
Cooper, Pratt, and Drexel institutes of
So I end my survey of Baltimore. As
over what is written, I perceive that it pi
the view of but one man, and one who
ticularly interested in education. Even
believe that, in all such respects, Baltirr
to be the leader of the New South. I


n the conscious of its own powers, the acknowledg-
vening ments of other communities come to it slowly.
istitute Time will bring changes, and the aspirations
of the of Sidney Lanier, in his "Ode to Johns Hopkins
other University," may yet be fulfilled:
And here, O finer Pallas, long remain,-
I look Sit on these Maryland hills, and fix thy reign,
resents And frame a fairer Athens than of yore
is par- In these blest bounds of Baltimore,-
o. Here, where the climates meet
That each may make the other's lack complete,-
lore is Where Chesapeake holds frankly forth her hands
Hardly Spread wide with invitation to all lands.





~4,.~rz'~'"-- -~"



















0- ~


By Thomas Tapper.

"Ah,-there 's rain," piped Robin Red,
Perched in his peach-tree tower.
"Now, keep away," the posies said;
"This is a private shower."

a1'Il \

The robin looked and looked again,
And then he thought a spell;
"Why, that's no more a real, true rain
Than looking down the well."



Author of "Lady Jane."

[Begun in te May number.]



HEN Philip and Dea
S ran to Seline and
showed her the bright
dollars they had earn-
ed so quickly, the
good woman was de-
lighted.. "Now, chil'-
run, you 's on der
way ter git rich,",
she said, showing her white teeth in a gen-
erous smile. "I wish m'sieur would wan' ter
paint my Lilybel; but he 's too ugly. Lilybel 's er
fright, he is, an' I don't see how come dat boy's
so plain; his pa was a right handsome man,
an' his two little sisters was as pretty chil'run as
yer ever seed. Sometimes, when I gets ter
studying' 'bout Lilybel, I 's most outdone," and
Seline's broad smile changed to an expression
of great perplexity. I ain't jes' sure ef dat boy
means ter tell lies, er if he 'magines what he
done tole; he 's got a powerful:'magination,
Lilybel has, an' a awful weak memory. Any-
how, I can't put no conference in dat chile; I's
done found out 'bout dat story he tole, chil'run;
he ain't never fall in der ruver / He jes' sot
down with er pa'cel of triflin' chil'run;an' stuffed
herself with dem cakes an' pralines, an' forgot
ter bring der basket home."
-Philip and Dea expressed their opinion of
Lilybel's too vivid imagination in a' iay that
comforted Seline greatly; their happiness was
hers, and very soon she forgot her own troubles
in listening to their glowing account of the
morning's adventures.
"Seline, it 's the most beautiful place you
ever saw; and he has, oh, lots of pictures! He's
painted them:himself. He wants us to come
VOL. XX.-47. 73

again, and madame kissed us both-did n't
she, Dea?-and told us to come to-morrow."
"And I am to bring the Toilers,'" exclaimed
Dea, her little face tremulous with excitement.
Monsieur is going to help. me sell it for a
hundred francs; pauv' papa will be so happy."
"My, my! a hundred'francs! Yer is in luck,
chile; yer goin' ter be rich, shore; an', Mars'
Philip, I 's done sole all yer flowers while yer 's
been getting' yer dollar. I s'pose yer wants ter
run home ter tell yer mammy all dem good
newses; here's yer dimes"; and Seline dropped
a handful of silver into Philip's outstretched
palm. Then, as, happy and blithe as two sing-
ing-birds, the children hurried to their respective
homes to tell of their-good fortune.
SWhen Philip opened the gate and saw T6i-
nette with folded hands and sitting very quietly
on the little gallery, he was alarmed. It was so
unusual to seeher idle that he thought she was
ill. "What 's the matter, Mammy ?" he called
out anxiously before he reached her.
Nothing, cher," she replied, as she took off
his hat aid. stroked'his damp hair. "I had no
orders for this evening, and I was tired, so I
dropped .down here to rest; I can't work so
hard as I used to."
"Well, you need n't to, Mammy. :I can earn
lots for you. Just look at this." And he drew
out his bright dollar. "All this for an hour or
"The artist must be very generous," said
Toinette. "Did he give Dea as much ?"
"Yes, Manimmy, he gave Dea the same. I
wish you could see the picture of us he 's
painting; he-'s got Dea's red, frock and my
blue trousers just as natural!-when it 's done
I 'm going to take you to see it."
"It's a long way to go, my child, and I may
not be able. I 'm not so strong as I used to
be; but put your money away; keep it for
yourself-it's yours."


No, Mammy, you take it. It 's for you; all
I earn is for you," said Philip, his eyes filled
with love and generosity as he urged it upon
"Well, we will lock it up in the box, and
when you need it for something, you shall have
it. And now, my child, I want you to help me.
I must transplant these pansies this evening,
and for some reason I felt- as if I could n't
begin until you came."
"I '11 help you, Mammy, dear; just let me
take off my best clothes," said Philip, cheerfully,
as he ran to his room.
What a good boy he is," thought Toinette,
"so gentle and obedient! Dear, dear child,
who will love him as I have?" And as she
went slowly down the steps to the garden, she
brushed away more than one regretful tear.
A half-hour later, Philip, in his every-day
clothes, was working away busily at the pansies,
while Toinette sat on a little stool beside him,
directing him how to set them. The boy, with
his brown head bent over the new earth, was
whistling softly. Presently, a beautiful cardinal-
bird flew down and began fluttering familiarly
about his. small spade. Go away, 'Major,'"
he said. without stopping; I can't play with
you now, but there's a nice fat worm for you."
The bird gave a low trill of thanks, seized the
unwilling worm, and flew off to a near bush
where he chirped contentedly to his mate.
"Hello, there 's the 'Singer,'" said Philip,
after a moment. "I knew he'd come." As he
spoke, a mocking-bird over his head burst into
a clear, impatient song, circling rapidly around,
and brushing the boy with his wings as if to
attract his attention.
"It 's strange," said Toinette, musingly,
"how birds and butterflies come around you.
They never fear you. I suppose it 's because
you never hurt them."
It 's because I love them, and they know it;
that's why they come. I 've lived here a long
time with them. It 's our home; we 're all one
family; and, Mammy, you 're the dear old
He kept on working, with his bright head
bent, and he did not see the tears in Toi'ette's
eyes. It was very lovely and peaceful.: The
place was full of sweet scents and sounds.

The broken white columns, covered with a
profusion of roses and jasmines, looked like a
bower in a sylvan nook of Arcady. The ruins
of the Detrava mansion were mounds of green
and bloom. There was nothing dreary, nothing
unsightly; no suggestion of age and decay-
but all spoke of youth, fresh eternal youth.
Perhaps it was the strong contrast of the boy,
the flowers, and the singing-birds that made
Toinette feel so old and feeble as she sat there,
her toil-worn hands folded on her lap, and
her dim eyes fixed with a tender protecting
love on the merry little fellow who worked in
happy unconsciousness of the sorrows of age.
Presently the gate-bell rang, and its loud
jangle startled Philip from his work and Toi-
nette from her reverie.
"Run, child -it is some one in a hurry";
and Toinette left her seat and'hastened to meet
the.newcomer. It was Pere Josef. He walked
up the path very hurriedly, brushing the obtru-
sive roses with the skirts of his worn black
coat; his narrow dark face wore an expression
of mingled surprise and sorrow. In one hand
he carried a bundle tied up in a red-and-yellow
handkerchief. Without glancing to the right
or left, he hastened up the steps to the gallery,
and set the bundle on the small table with an
air of resolution.
"Toinette, my good friend; Philip, my dear
boy, I 've brought them to you. There they
are, mes enfants, mes chers elites enfants/" He
spoke firmly, but in a sad, constrained voice.
SToinette and Philip looked at him aston-
ished. "Why, Pere Josef!-why do you do
this ?" said Toinette.
"Did his reverence tell you you must?"
asked Philip, anxiously. "Did he know about
your pets ?"
"No, no, my dear boy; he had heard no-
thing. It was a matter of more importance.
I was unwise to think the archbishop would
trouble himself about such folly. He sent for
me to give me instructions. I am to leave on
a mission. I go to-night."
"Oh, Pere Josef, to-night! Is it far? Will it
be for long? cried Toinette and Philip in the
same breath.
"I can't say. I can't tell you anything.
I 'm like a ship sailing.under sealed orders;



but from some remarks of the archbishop, I
think it will not be for long. I go to do the
work of a brother who is ill. When he recovers,
it is likely I shall return."

"And they have been so much company,
such a pleasure to you," said Toinette, with
ready sympathy.
"Yes, and that is just where I have done


But can't you take your little pets with you,
P&re Josef?" asked Philip. "You will be so
unhappy without them."
My child, I might take them, and I shall
be miserable without them. But it would
scarcely-be proper for a servant of the church
to start on a sacred mission carrying a cage
of white mice with him"; and Pere Josef
smiled. "It 's a trial, but I must leave them.".

wrong. I have made companions of these in-
nocent little animals,-I have grown to love
them,-and now I see that I have neglected
my duties. My good friend, I have spent many
hours teaching these pets folly, when I should
have been teaching human beings something
useful. Life is too short to waste any part of
it, but-but they were so innocent, so charm-
ing, and really they seemed to love me." And

Pere.Josef winked and coughed, and rubbed his
nose vigorously with his- coarse handkerchief.
"I 'Ul be very good to them; I '11 take good
care of them; and when you come back you 'I
have them again," said Philip, consolingly.
S"I know you '11 be kind to them. They're
very affectionate, and I don't think they will
forget me. When I return, perhaps I will take
them again-that is, if I am not too fond of
them. However, Philip, I leave them with
you; I give them to you until I claim them.
Good-by, my dear boy," and he-held out his
thin hand; "be obedient and studious while I
am gone." And Pere Josef turned away and
walked hurriedly down the path, followed closely
by Toinette.
So busy was Philip taking the covering from
the cage, that he did not notice how earnestly
Toinette and the little priest were talking as
,they stopped for a moment near the gate.
With his hand on the latch, Pere Josef was say-
ing: "The papers will be safe during my ab-
sence. I leave them, with mine, in the care
of a friend. If you need them before I return,
he will give them to you"; and he mentioned
a name and address.
Toinette replied: "I hope I shall not need
them, and that when you come back you will
find everything as it is now."
"I trust so, my good Toinette. We are in
the hands of God. Au revoir-not adieu."
As Philip looked up he saw the black figure
of Pere Josef vanish through the gate, and
again he thought: "I did n't ask Pere Josef,
after all, and now he is gone. Well, I must
wait until he comes back."

/ _USETTE, do you know
it is papa's birthday ? "
said Dea one morning
to the old woman who
often came to cook.and
do heavy work for the
\ little housekeeper.
S: "No, Ma'mselle, I
did n't know it," said the kind Susette; "but
I 'm thankful your papa is here to see another

birthday-and so much better than; he was.
Why, he 's like another.man!" I : .
"He smiled this morning when I wished him
bon jour," said Dea, her own serious little face
dimpling at the pleasant thought; "and it 's
the first time for so long. Yes, he 's better and
happier, and I want him to have a good birth-
day dinner. I want you to go to market. He
must have some soup and fish, and a nice little
chicken, some pease, and a salad; and I am
going to surprise him with some fruit, because,
Susette, we are almost rich now, you know, and
it.is his birthday."
"Very well, Ma'mselle; I will gladly do just
what you wish," returned the old woman, with
pleased alacrity.
S"And, Susette, don't say anything to papa.
I want to surprise him. You will cook the
dinner nicely, and I will arrange the table.
Philip has promised me some flowers, and
Seline is going to make me a birthday cake.
I will bring them when I come from mon-
sieur's. Now don't disturb papa, because he
is very busy; he is working on an order-he is
making a medallion of monsieur's little boy,
who is dead. He is making it from a photo-
graph, and it is such a pretty face. Papa is so
interested in it. When it is finished I am to
take it to monsieur, and he will pay a great
deal for it. Now please be very quiet and
careful, Susette."
"I will, Ma'mselle, I will," replied the old
woman, looking at Dea doatingly; "and I '11
do the marketing as cheap as I can. You
won't be ashamed of your papa's birthday
"Pauv' papa, it 's so long since he had a
birthday! I want this to be a happy one.
Now I 'm going to hurry to Rue Royale. Give
me my basket, and I will bring the flowers and
Within a few weeks a great change had
taken place in the small cottage on Viller6
street. To the poor artist in wax a little suc-
cess meant a great deal. At last he had found
some one to appreciate his peculiar talent; and
ill and suffering though he was, his beclouded
mind grasped that fact and held to it. It
seemed to give him new life and hope; he
saw before him the means of support for him-




self and the patient, tender little creature who
clung to him so faithfully in all his trouble.
One by one his beautiful groups and figures
had disappeared from his dingy room, to find
in Mr. Ainsworth's studio admirers and pur-
chasers; and the careful, mature child, with all
the burden of life on her slender shoulders,
knew how to economize the generous sums she
received for them. Therefore it was no wonder
that when Dea, who a few weeks before had
lacked a nickel to buy bread, looked at the
little pile of bank-notes locked safely in her
father's- desk, she thought that she was rich and
could well afford a birthday dinner.
They had not always been so poor. Some
years before, when the artist in wax first came
from France, he had quite a handsome sum of
money. He bought the small cottage in Vil-
ler6 street, and furnished it neatly for his
pretty young wife, a gentle industrious girl
who. had been a governess in a rich family,
and who eked out their small income by giving
piano lessons to the little creoles in the neigh-
borhood. The artist, always peculiar, with his
strange worship for the great French writer,
quietly studied and illustrated the books that
he adored. Sometimes he worked with his
pencil, but oftener with the plastic medium of
wax. Now and then he sold some of his small
figures, and occasionally he had an order for a
portrait medallion, and in this way the quiet
years passed until the young-wife was taken
away; after that his health failed, and the
heavy burden of existence fell upon the frail
child who was bearing it so bravely.
When Dea reached the studio in Rue Roy-
ale, she found Philip already there. He was
seated at a table beside Mrs. Ainsworth, with a
plate of delicious strawberries before him, and
Mr. Ainsworth was working very busily on a
charming little study he was making of the group.
These visits to the studio were the beginning
of a new life to the boy, and every day the
charm of it increased. Mrs. Ainsworth had
become deeply interested in him, and treated
him with the greatest affection, and Mr. Ains-
worth encouraged the intimacy when he saw
his wife more cheerful and, in better health.
Every day he planned to keep the boy with
them as much as possible. After making a

great many studies of the little models, he had
begun teaching Philip the rudiments of draw-
ing. The boy had brought his rude sketches
to the artist, who saw in them evidences of
talent; and as Toinette was anxious to have
him learn, Mr. Ainsworth found it a pleasure
to teach the intelligent, docile little fellow.
Often when the artist and his wife were alone
they seriously discussed the future of the child,
and wondered to what destiny he was born. A
vague wish was in the heart of each that neither
liked to be the first to express. There was one
thing of which they were certain. He was neces-
sary to their happiness. The days were brighter
when he came, and sadder when he remained
away. They were very fond of Dea, but she
had not grown into their hearts as Philip had.
It was the striking resemblance to their lost
boy, the eyes, the hair, a tone in his voice, in
his laugh, a way of looking at them, that made
them long to keep him always. The weather
was very warm, and often they spoke of going
north; but day after day they lingered, fasci-
nated with this new affection.
When Dea's radiant face appeared at the
door, Philip left his strawberries and ran joy-
fully to meet her, crying, "Here are the flowers
for your papa's birthday. Mammy sent them
to you with lots of good wishes."
Dea thanked him with a tremulous smile as
she took the beautiful roses and laid them care-
fully in her basket. Her little heart ivas very
full, and she could not say much.
Here are some strawberries for you, .my
dear," said Mrs. Ainsworth, making room be-
side her. "They were so tempting to Philip
that I would not let him wait until you came."
"If you please, Madam, may I take them
home and eat them with papa? It is his birth-
"Certainly, my child, if you would rather";
and Mrs. Ainsworth filled a little basket and
placed it beside the flowers.
Have you a birthday present for your papa,
Dea ?" asked Mr. Ainsworth, who was watch-
ing the child's varying expression of delight.
Her care for her father was half pathetic and
half amusing.
"No, Monsieur," she replied a little sadly;
"that is, I have n't much beside the flowers



and Seline's cake. I wanted to get the book,
but-but it was twenty-five francs, and I could
not pay so much."
Mr. Ainsworth looked at his wife and smiled.
"Well, my dear, don't be unhappy. Your father
shall have the book; he shall have it for his
birthday. It is a present from you. You have
been such a patient little model that I don't
feel as though I had half paid you. I give
you this to make it up," and he handed her
the book neatly covered with tissue-paper tied
with a narrow ribbon.
Dea took the package silently. Her softly
tinted cheeks turned quite pale, and her eyes
seemed to distend with surprise and delight.
"Oh, oh!" she gasped at length, "how glad
pauv' papa will be! I can't thank you now,
Monsieur, I can't-I can't!" and bursting into
sudden tears of gratitude, she took her basket
and hurried away without another word.
When she reached home, her father was still
bending over his delicate work, quite unmind-
ful of everything, birthdays included. She said
nothing to him. She was pale and excited, and
her small face wore a look of great importance.
"Susette," she cried eagerly, as she entered
the kitchen. How is the dinner getting on?"
"Finely, Ma'mselle, finely. I got artichokes,
the first in the market, and such a fat chicken,
and all for so little, and a handful of meat
scraps for Homo for lagniappe!"*
"And, oh, Susette, I have strawberries!
Madam gave me strawberries. What will
papa say when he sees it all ? And the book,
the book!"
She was so excited that her fluttering little
fingers could scarcely arrange the few pieces of
china and silver, the remnants of their better
fortunes; but at last, when all was ready, and
the book-the much-coveted book-was laid
by her father's plate, with the fruit and flowers
at each side of the table, and Seline's beautiful
cake in the center, she could hardly wait for
the dinner to be served. She flitted constantly
back and forth between the kitchen and the
little dining-room, discussing, inspecting, and
directing everything, until she went to lead her
father to the table.
"Papa, do you know that it is your birthday

to-day ?" she, said joyfully, as she smoothed
his hair and arranged his carelessly tied cravat.
"And I want you to look very nice, because I
have a surprise -a real surprise! -for you."
The artist laid down his tools, removed his
glass, and arose with dreamy indifference.
"My birthday, dear child? No, I had not
thought of it. All days are alike to me, now."
"You won't say so, Papa, when you see
what I 've got for you. This is a lovely day, a
happier day than we 've had for a long time."
Then she threw open the door impressively,
and proudly seated her father at the pretty
table. As he glanced from the flowers to the
fruit, his face brightened with pleased surprise,
and he said cheerfully, in a tone that en-
chanted Dea, Why, my darling, you have
indeed surprised me; I little expected such
a feast." Then his eyes fell on the book, which
he seized eagerly, and pulling off the wrapper,
began to devour the contents, glancing greedily
from the title-page to the illustrations.
"The Hachette edition, Dea! -where did
you get it ? Is it mine-mine to keep?"
"Yes, Papa, it is yours. Monsieur, the ar-
tist, gave it to me for keeping so quiet when I
sat for him, and I give it to you. It is a birth-
day present from me."
"You are a good child, Dea," he said, his
eyes fixed on one of the illustrations. Ah -
this is excellent; this will make a fine group!"
"But, Papa dear, look at the other things.
Philip's mammy sent you the flowers, Seline
made the cake for you, and madam gave me
the strawberries. Are n't they all lovely?"
The artist's eyes wandered slowly over the
table. Yes, my dear, they are beautiful, and
your friends are very good to us; but the
book-the Hachette-it is the best of all."
During the dinner, Dea tried by every art to
attract her father's attention from his book.
He ate slowly of the good things set before him,
with his eyes fixed on the fascinating pages.
He was happy in his own way, and the child
was satisfied, for she said in confidence to Su-
sette when the feast was over:
"Dear papa, how happy he was! He en-
joyed his birthday dinner so much. He ate
everything I helped him to-strawberries and

*A trifling present given in New Orleans to every buyer.


cake, and' everything. And fancy, Susette, he
was looking at his book all the rime; but the
best part of all was the surprise. Oh, Susette,
he was so surprised !"

HE next morning after
Dea's birthday din-
ner, Philip sat on the

self with Pere Josef's
pets. It was quite
early, and Toinette,
who was within, at-
tending to her house-
hold duties, thought the boy was studying.
His books arid slate lay on the table near
the cage, but he was not looking at them;
he could not get interested in his lessons with
such merry little rogues scurrying to and fro
before him.
I must n't let them forget what Pefe Josef
taught them," reasoned Philip. "It would be
too bad if they could n't do their drill when
he comes home. I must make them practise a
little every morning." Therefore he was putting
them through their exercises with quite an easy
The air was sweet and cool; the sun was
just peeping over the pittosporums, which
were white with blossoms; the dew lay in
sparkling drops on the stars of the jasmine, and
every little blade of grass was diamond-tipped;
the spiders' webs, stretched across the rose-
bushes, looked like spun glass as they waved
daintily in the soft wind. Philip's bowl of
hominy and milk stood beside him; the Major
and the Singer had come to share it. He
cared no more for his food than he did for
his books; he was intensely interested by the
indications of a.serious misunderstanding be-
tween his pets.
The birds seemed jealous of Pere Josef's
children," and fluttered and pecked viciously
at the cage, whose tiny occupants scurried from
side to side in order to get out of the reach of
their unfriendly bills. At last, with a funny
little show of bravery, the mice drew them-

selves up in battle array, and presented a bold
front to the enemy.
This so amused Philip that he burst into a
hearty peal of laughter, which brought Toinette
to the gallery, interested, in spite of herself.
"Oh, Mammy," he cried, "just watch them
for a minute!. The Major and the Singer are
"And the 'children' are frightened," said Toi-
nette. "See them flutter and tremble, in spite
of their brave appearance." As she spoke, she
took a handful of grain from a box, and scat-
tered it on the grass for the unfriendly birds.
"Go and eat," she said, "and don't make the
poor little things unhappy."
The "children" stood up gravely watching
the motions of the birds, who gave a last threat-
ening peck before they disappeared. When
they were 'finally gone, the little sprites began
to dance merrily: they imagined they had
routed the enemy and come off victoriously.
"They're very lively," said Philip, looking
at them admiringly. I don't believe they
miss Pere Josef."
"No, I don't think they do," returned Toi-
nette, a little sadly. It 's the way .with al-
most everything in this world-out of sight,
out of mind," and she sighed as she dropped
into her old rocking-chair and leaned her head
against the faded cushion. "I often think,
my dear, that if I went away you'd forget me
just as soon."
"You 're not going away, Mammy," replied
Philip, cheerfully; "but if you did, I should n't
forget you; I could n't if I tried."
Toinette smiled patiently. "You would n't
mean to, cher; but, after a while, .before you
knew it, your old mammy would be gone out
of your mind. Some one else would take her
place. I often study about these strangers from
the North. They 're a great deal to you al-
ready. I don't blame you, my child. They 're
very good to you. The artist teaches you.
Sometimes I think they may want to take you
away from me. Would you go, Philip? "
There was just a touch of jealousy in.the old
woman's patient voice, and her thin, dark face
was full of anxiety as she waited for the boy's
It came directly, clear and truthful. "No,




Mammy, of course I would n't. I would n't
leave you for any one. I 'm happy here with
my birds and flowers, and Pere Josef's 'chil-
dren.' I could n't like any other place, and I
could n't love any one as I love you, Mammy."
Toinette's dim eyes brightened with plea-
sure. "I 'm glad to hear you say that, Philip.
I 've had you a long time, and I 've tried to
take good care of you, and to teach you to be
good. There 's plenty of time for you to learn
everything. I could n't let you go away; I
could n't give you up just yet, but I 'm old-
old, and perhaps- Well, eat your breakfast,
child, and try to study awhile before you go to
the studio."
When Philip left Toinette with an affection-
ate adieu, he did not know how soon again his
loyalty would be put to the test. Mr. Ains-
worth and his wife were talking very seriously
when he entered the studio with a bright face
and a cheerful good morning.
"Come here, my dear," said Mrs. Ainsworth,
drawing him gently down beside her, while she
encircled him with her arm. We want to talk
to you. We are thinking of going away soon,
and we find it hard to leave you, my dear
child. Would you like to go with us ?"
Philip's cheeks flushed crimson, and his eyes
filled with tears. Oh, I don't want you to go;
I don't want to lose you; but I can't go with
"Why can't you, my dear boy? We will do
everything for you. We will make you very
happy, and you can go on with your drawing,"
.said Mr. Ainsworth, persuasively.
You can travel, and see other places. We
will spend the summer in the mountains. You
can have a pony, and you can go out sketching
with Mr. Ainsworth," urged Mrs. Ainsworth.
"I should like to travel; I should like to see
the mountains- I never saw any; and I should
like a pony," replied Philip, looking up bravely,
while he wiped away his tears; "but .I can't
go. I can't leave mammy,-she's old, and I 've
got to stay with her and take care of her."
If your mammy should consent? If she
should think it best for your future? If she
should be willing ?" asked Mrs. Ainsworth.

"But mammy would n't be willing," replied
Philip, with conviction. "And then there 's
Dea; I 've got to take care of her, and I 've
got to take care of Pere Josef's children.' I
could n't leave them," he added gravely, as
the weight of his responsibilities pressed upon
Mr. Ainsworth looked to his wife for some
further argument in their favor. They were
thrilled with admiration for the loyal little fel-
low, and yet they were bitterly disappointed.
But, my dear boy," said Mrs. Ainsworth,
after a moment's silence, "if it were not for
your mammy, would you go with us? Do you
love us well enough to go with us?" Her
hungry heart craved some assurance of the
boy's love.
"If it was n't for mammy, yes, I 'd go," he
replied readily. "I want to learn to paint
pictures, and I 'd like to see everything, and-
and-you 're so good to me. I don't want
you to go away," and again the blue eyes filled
with tears; "but you see I can't-I can't leave
"I see you can't, my dear," returned Mrs.
Ainsworth, soothingly; "you are a good loyal
boy, and we love you all the better for your
devotion to your old nurse. There is a great
deal to be thought of on both sides, but we
must go on loving you, and you must not for-
get us, and when we come back next winter
we want to find you the same dear boy that
you are now."
"We are greatly disappointed, Philip," said
Mr. Ainsworth, regretfully. We are sorry to
go without you; but we shall watch over your
future, and perhaps when we return we can
make some arrangement,-perhaps there will
not be so many obstacles in the way."
"If mammy and Pere Josef should say I
could, and that it was best, I might go for a
little while; but I can't leave mammy now,
and anyway, I must be here when Pere Josef
comes back."
And that was Philip's ultimatum. No further
arguments nor inducements could influence
him. There was a serious and secret reason
why he must wait for Pere Josef's return.

(To be continued.)




IK or Wych was the
name given by the
Norsemen of old to
those deep and narrow
inlets which so sharply
indent the Norwegian
coast, looking on the
map as if old ocean had
notched the rugged
-- coast-line with scars of
battle and storms.
Twelve hundred years ago Norway's coast
was peopled by a fierce and warlike race of
mariners. Their own barren shores afforded
few of the luxuries of life that 'they found

among other people living within a day's sail
further south, and it is little to be wondered
at that, with the strength and boldness gained
by them in their hunting and fishing expedi-
tions, they should at last find it easier to wage
war upon their less martial neighbors for the
plunder to be gained thereby, than to depend
upon the resources of their own land for a
As years went by, and the nation continued
prosperous under such conditions, their belief
in the divine origin and purpose of war became.
fixed, and at last it became part of their re-
ligion. Even their heaven grew to be a place
where warriors could fight and kill one another



all day long, coming to life again at sundown
to make merry together at night.,
In their youth the Norsemen were trained
to be familiar with ship-building, to know the
ocean tides, currents, and storms, and the hand-
ling of their ships therein. They were taught
to throw great spears and to avoid those
thrown at them by others; to draw great bows
and shoot their arrows swiftly and true to the
mark, and to catch on their shields those shot
by their enemies. We are told that Einar
Thambarskelver, the "Twanger of Thamb,"*
was powerful enough at &ighteen years of age
to pierce with a blunt arrow a rawhide hanging
loose in the wind.
The villages of those born fighters and sea-
rovers were built at the heads of the narrow
viks, or harbors, where no enemy could attack
except in front; and it was a daring foe indeed
who would venture for war or retaliation into
the dens of those sea-wolves.
Soon the dwellers in these settlements became
known as "vikings," meaning almost literally
"inlet-men," and were considered pirates; but
piracy in those days was almost universal
throughout the world, and the vikings were no
worse than the sea-rovers of Greece, Rome,
Spain, or Africa.
The ships of the vikings were marvels of
strength, lightness, and speed. Their absolute
length-measurement has not been handed down
to us; but the historians of those days mention
crews of a hundred and twenty rowers, so that,
with their officers and chief's attendants, the
crew must have numbered hundreds.
"Long Serpent," "Short Serpent," "The
Dragon," were some of the names given their
famous war-ships. Carved heads of dragons
and serpents surmounted the bows and stems,
rows of shields painted black and yellow were
ranged along the sides, gold and silver orna-
ments gleamed upon rail and decks, and the
painted sails and many-colored flags and
streamers- gave them an exceedingly gay and
warlike appearance as they swept in fleets
through the narrow viks and tore up the dark-
green t waters off the coast with their powerful
And the viking ships sometimes made'long

voyages, for we read that King Hakon sent his
daughter Christina to Spain to be married to
the Spanish king.
The mystery of the viking ships is now
passing away, owing to the discovery of their
remains during this century. In 1867 a good-
sized ship was discovered near Sarpsborg, while
in 1882 there was dug out of a burial-mound
at Gokstad, near Christiania, the entire remains
of a viking ship with most of her equipment in
a good state of preservation. She was 78 feet
long, 163 feet wide, and built entirely of oak.
The prow and stern were richly decorated and
handsomely carved. She had ports for sixteen
oars on a side, many of which remained in
good order, as the warriors' shields were also
well preserved. Among the articles found were
candlesticks, a copper caldron, a sled, a fine
bridle, and the anchor and stock with'its long
cable. There were also extra masts and spars,
the ship's water-tub, and an oaken bedstead for
the use of the viking commander.
The ship was evidently the burial-tomb of
its great captain, for the bones of his horses.
and dogs lay beside it; and, strangest thing of
all to relate, the bones of the viking himself, a
man of giant size, six feet three and a half
inches tall, were found in a covered place
amidships. There was nothing to show, how-
ever, whether the great chief died in battle
defending his own fireside, or whether, wounded
in one of his own terrible, forays, he had been
brought home for burial; but certain it is that
for one thousand years he had lain there with
his favorite war-horses and hunting-dogs be-
side his good ship, whose prow, turned toward
the sea, was ready at Odin's trumpet-call to.
launch forth once more to other deeds of valor
and glory.
Nine centuries ago Lief Erickson, or "Lief
the Lucky," found his way, it is claimed, to the
shores of America in one of the sea-skimming
dragons, and skirted along our New England
coast long before Columbus crossed the At-
lantic in his caravels; and the stone tower at
Newport, the age of which no one seems to
know, is thought by many to have-been built
by the viking's crew.
Prominent Norwegians interested in the de-

t The ocean off Norway is dark green instead of blue.


* 11 Thamb was the name of his bow.


bate as to whether Erickson really did make
this voyage, have patriotically contributed
money to have a ship built in all respects
similar to the one found at Gokstad. She is
sent across the ocean on a visit to America
and the World's Fair as part of Norway's ex-
hibit. She is 77 feet long and I6 feet wide.
Her rudder is on the starboard or "steerboard "
side, and she flies the ancient and dreaded
red flag and raven of the pirates of old. She
has thirty oars, worked by relays of rowers
from a crew of eighty picked Norwegian sail-
ors, who brought her over the sea with sail and
oar just as their forefathers came so long ago,
amid icebergs and storms.
There is one difference, however; for instead
of landing on a rock-bound coast inhabited by

savage Indians, they are welcomed by a new
nation, great and free, in whose harbors is
many an iron war-ship greater and more ter-
rible than the viking ever dreamt of. But these
men-of-war did not meet to destroy one another
in battle, but for the purpose of celebrating the
coming of that other great sea-rover and dis-
coverer, Columbus.
When the Palisades of the Hudson looked
down upon the seemingly antique caravels,
themselves modern in pattern as compared with
this viking ship, perhaps the old rocks sleepily
wondered at the absence of the good ship Half
Moon"-the craft of their friend Hendrik
Hudson; for to them it may have seemed
that a model of his Dutch vessel might have
claimed a place in the honored procession.





THERE is a man in our town
Who is so wondrous wise,
He knows he cannot sing at all,
And so he never tries.

He also knows he has no wit,
Like many funny folks,
And so he never bothers me
By getting off his jokes.

And when he has no word to say,
He 's wise enough, though young,
To sit about while others talk,
And hold his little tongue.



A LITTLE Swiss lady whose name was Jeanne,
Lived close to the Swiss frontier;
While over in France, across the way,
Lived her little French neighbor, Madame
Her friend of many a year.

And every spring, by a long-tried plan,
Whose value you '11 see at a glance,
They made of their houses a fair exchange;

For said Jeanne, "One is better for travel
and change,
So I spend my summers in France."

And when any one called at her new house
And asked for Madame Aim6e,
She said, I am sorry she 's not at hand;
She 's gone for the summer to Switzerland,
But you '11 find her over the way."



THERE is a man in our town
Who is so wondrous wise,
He knows he cannot sing at all,
And so he never tries.

He also knows he has no wit,
Like many funny folks,
And so he never bothers me
By getting off his jokes.

And when he has no word to say,
He 's wise enough, though young,
To sit about while others talk,
And hold his little tongue.



A LITTLE Swiss lady whose name was Jeanne,
Lived close to the Swiss frontier;
While over in France, across the way,
Lived her little French neighbor, Madame
Her friend of many a year.

And every spring, by a long-tried plan,
Whose value you '11 see at a glance,
They made of their houses a fair exchange;

For said Jeanne, "One is better for travel
and change,
So I spend my summers in France."

And when any one called at her new house
And asked for Madame Aim6e,
She said, I am sorry she 's not at hand;
She 's gone for the summer to Switzerland,
But you '11 find her over the way."

"Y;~'~7'"'.i* .'

/ I l

/ t"

l -.





-My sp

Com res T

vrnZ$^ -NQ


UNCLE often tells us stories
Of a ship he has at sea,
And the wonders and the glories,
If we 're good, for Tom and me;
And I dream that somewhere sailing
Is a gallant bark of mine,
With the soft wind never .failing,
And the weather always fine.
Oh! the bells will all be ringing
With a merry, tuneful din,
The birds'will all be singing,
When my ship comes in!

She is bringing gifts for Mother,
And for Father and the boys,
And my little baby brother
Shall be smothered deep in toys;
Her hold is full of treasure
From the islands of the Main,

And her fairy crew at leisure
Are sailing home again.
Oh! the pleasure past all rhyming,
And the joy that will begin,
When all the bells are chiming,
And my ship comes, in!

There are storms and sudden dangers
Hiding cruelly around,
Where just such ocean rangers
As my fairy bark are found.
Blow, breath of heaven, behind her,
And guide her safely home,
And some day I shall find her-
My ship from o'er the foam!
Oh! the birds will all be singing
When her crew the haven win;
The bells will all be ringing
When my ship comes in!



~S~Ii-~ss~ru~C1-~~ C- \;?6~~
~~..~-~2~t~ ~"`~s


' ^ ^ ^ t~^
-- n ^ ^


Consul- General for Siam.

His Royal Highness Somditch Phra Oro
sad hiruj Chowfa Maha Vajirunhis, heir to the
throne of Siam, was born in 1877. He is a
very bright and interesting boy. The King takes
great pains with his education, so that he may
well fill the high position he is to occupy. His
Majesty is very fond of his children, and on
public occasions is frequently seen accompanied
by the Crown-Prince and others of the little
By ancient custom in Siam, a lock of hair
of every young child is allowed to grow long
on the top of the head, and is kept coiled up.
The wealthy often fasten it with jeweled pins,
and the head is adorned by circlets of white
flowers, projecting above which is seen the little
jet-black topknot of hair.
When girls reach the age of about eleven, and
boys are from twelve to fourteen years old, this
topknot is cut off, and afterward the hair is
worn short by both men and women.
The cutting off of this topknot is the occa-
sion of a joyous festival, and is made an inter-
esting era in child-life.
In January, 1891, there was observed at
Bangkok a very interesting old Siamese cus-
tom called the "Sokan," or hair-cutting cere-
mony, celebrated in honor of the Crown-Prince.
It was attended with some very novel perform-
Propitious days are sought for, and priests
are invited to assist, to invoke blessings upon
the children, and to avert misfortunes and evils.
Relatives and friends .assemble and make
valuable and useful presents, which are kept
until the time comes for the children to take
the responsibilities of life upon themselves.
No one is specially invited, but it is regarded
as a mark of respect and good will to be pres-
ent and make some gift as a pleasant souvenir
of the occasion.
; When the time came for his Royal Highness

the Crown-Prince to lay aside the ways of
childhood and become as a little man, and, in
sign of this dignity, to have his topknot cut off,
there was a great stir among all classes through-
out the kingdom, and extensive preparations
were made to celebrate the event at the Royal
The palace and edifices within the extensive
walled inclosure are of Siamese architecture,
which has distinct features, and differs from
both Chinese and Japanese styles. Noticeable
are the peculiar triple roofs covered with col-
ored tiles, and decorated with golden spurs at
the roof-points. Graceful spires, white stone,
colored marbles, and gilded elephants at the
palace entrance, make' an attractive and bril-
liant picture, especially at night, when they are
illuminated with colored lanterns and electric
jets. In producing effects by means of light,
shade, and color, the Siamese are very skilful,
and show excellent taste.
On this occasion an artificial mountain orna-
mented. with silver and gold, about a hundred
feet high, was so constructed that it could be
ascended by winding steps to the summit. It
was adorned with little trees, flowers, animals,
and other novel decorations, representing in
miniature the four quarters of the globe.
In a grotto in this mountain the Prince
went to bathe before his topknot was cut off.
Brahminical religious services were held; the
water was consecrated. Then, at the auspicious
moment, as ascertained.by the astrologers and
Brahmins, the great and important wax taper
was lighted, parched and unparched corn was
scattered, and banners waved to receive the
Prince. His Majesty the King, elegantly dressed
and wearing his highest decoration,--that of the
White Elephant,- was present, and directed
the proceedings.
The consecrated water was poured upon the
Prince from the royal conch-shell and bowls


by the King, Queen, and princes. During the The ceremonies were continued for six days.
bathing, he was screened by curtains from gen- The first day was devoted to religious obser-
eral observation, and when his garments were vances that were attended mostly by Siamese
and official persons.
Upon the second and
following days there
were grand proces-
On these occasions
all Siamese of rank,
the foreign legations,
and various officials
were present.
In the grand square
not far from the en-
trance to the palace,
and opposite the gold
and silver mountain,
a canopied structure
was built near to the
throne for the occa-
sion. This was oc-
cupied by the foreign
ministers, consuls, and
guests of the Govern-
Here also were seat-
ed the princes, the
governors of provinces,
the judges, and two
hundred or more rajahs
and nobles who had
come from different
parts of the kingdom
to be present at the
ceremony. They were
A attired in rich court-
-& dresses of cloth of gold,
with decorations, jew-
els, and laces, which,
with their bronzed
faces and jet-black
hair, made a very pic-
turesque and striking
group. Some had
changed he was adorned with a gauze shoulder faces, but none were so attractive as his Maj-
cloth and a large chain of gems. The King, esty, especially when seated upon his throne
leading him by the hand, then descended to and adorned with his grand crown.
the base of the mountain. The King is of distinguished bearing. His



countenance is expressive of benignity and in- bare, and they carried their small hands with
telligence. It is a face that, because of its fine palms touching and fingers pointed outward
Oriental type, would
attract attention on any
The procession was
most imposing; indeed,
words can hardly con-
vey a proper impression
of its picturesqueness.
The king's body-guard,
with the royal standard,
and a band of foreign
instruments, led the
advance. Next fol-
lowed a line of infantry ..'d .
and lictorsbearingtheir
ratans, which they ap-
plied freely to the backs
of the unfortunate na-
tives who blocked the
way. Then came the
chiefs, wearing sabers
by their sides and lead-
ing lines of palace
pages, who were dress-
ed in gorgeous robes.
Then in companies
came six thousand
young men and wo-
men, the flower of the
kingdom, representing
various nationalities
within the dominions
- Siamese, Cochin-
Chinese, Burmans, La-
otians, Malays, Cam-
bodians, and others.
First in line were a
thousand Siamese girls
from fourteen to eigh-
teen years old, who
marched together, hav-
ing the place of honor
heading the column.
They wore white bod-
loose trousers, and yel- CEREMONY DESCRIBED IN THIS ARTICLE.)
low scarfs over one shoulder and knotted at the breast high, the Siamese mode of salutation.
waist. One shoulder, the arms, and feet were Straight as arrows, they moved gracefully and
VOL. XX.-48.


modestly, and surely made a very pretty sight.
They were escorted by a body-guard of Ama-
zons in dark blue uniforms trimmed iith red,
a rear-guard of the same following. Then ;were
heard the most thrilling, ear-splitting sounds in
the distance. These strains from the native
Malay band heralded the coming of the Crown-
Prince, who shortly after appeared seated in his
gilded and lacquered palanquin, with the gieat
golden umbrella, large fans, and other para-
phernalia. He was escorted by a body-guard
of nobles in embroidered apparel and lace
cloaks, like those already spoken of. Every
one arose, as all had done when the King
passed, and respectfully -aluted the y%,ung
Prince by bowing. The greetings were cour-
teously returned by a wave of his hand.
Companies of Malays, Burmans, Cochin-Chi-
nese, and other races followed, wearing their
native picturesque costumes. The population
of Siam comprises these various types, and
gives a good idea of the variouss Oriental races.
Indeed the procession was a sight such as
could be seen in no other land, and "as most
A battalion of the regular arm- of Siam, in
white uniforms, with their fine military band,
was also in line, and the men presented a sol-
dierly appearance,
The band-master formerly held a similar
position in a United States frigate that vis-
ited Siam a few years ago, but, being invited
to join the King's service, he was permitted to
lea\e the ship and accept the appointment.
He has taught the Siamese to play upon the
various foreign musical instruments, and the
King has now a fine regimental band, as well
as several bands of native performers, making
a pleasing variety of music.
Dancing by girls in pretty costumes, and by
young men, with peculiar slow graceful move-
ments, was part of the entertainment provided.
The Siamese as a people are gentle'of voice
and manner, avoiding anything that may lead
to expressions of anger. To one accustonied
to witness the push, bustle, and tumult on
similar occasions in the large capitals of Eu-
rope and America, the quiet order and decorum
of the Siamese was most agreeable and im-
pressive. Every one present seemed to be

swayed only by a wish to make the fesrti\viies
a success. No one seemed to enjoy it more
than the King: it honored the Prince and
pleased the people. \\henevier the King arose
from his seat every one stood and remained
standing until he was again heated ; and when
his Ma.jesty. taking the aim of the Crow.n-
Prince, had assisted him from his palanquin to
the throne. upon a signnl upon a native instru-
ment the whole assembly bowed three times.
The natives in attendance for marclung or
dancing i ere hospital. entertained by his
Majesty, who gave to each one, it w.s reported,
a- ,ca/ in silver la coin equal to sixtY cents>
for each day of their attendance; so that
quite a considerable sum -was scattered among
the people. His Majectv is liberal and lios-
Fitable o:n such occasions.
During the festivities a superb banquet was
given by the King, and several hundreds of
royal princes, nobles, foreign ministers, and.
guest's sat at the feast, whichh was followed by
a reception by the King and the Crownr-Priice.
There was a splendid ball and banquet in
honor of .the Cron-Prince by his Royal
Highness the youngest broth-r of the King.
It was very grand, ,and was honored by the
presence .of :he King and the Crown-Prince.
The education of the Crown-Prince has-been
well conducted.
The autograph letter from him reproduced
on the next page shows his courtesy, and his
creditable proficiency in English.
The photographs of the Prince, taken one
before the hair-cutting ceremony, and the other
a year or two later, are excellent likenesses.
The elephant is the national emblem of
Siam. It is a more agreeable representative
emblem for a state than are the rapacious
birds, venomous reptiles, and ferocious wild:
beasts, often the enemies of mankind, which
have been adopted by some other nations.


(A Fable.)


A RACOON and a Rabbit were crossing a
river together in an old tub. When about
midway between the two shores, they discov-
ered that their boat was leaking badly. They
had nothing with them with which to bail out
the water, and neither of them could swim, so
you may be sure they were badly frightened.
At length the Rabbit hit upon a plan which
he thought might save them.
Let us," said he to his companion, fall to
drinking the water in our boat, and perhaps in

this way we may so reduce it that we shall be
able to reach the other shore in safety."
The Racoon readily agreed to this plan, and
both animals set to drinking with a will. But
though they were able to reduce the quantity
of water in the tub, it continued to settle, and
presently went down with the two unfortunate
From this sad tale we may learn the whole-
some lesson that shifting a responsibility is not
ridding one's self of it.

DOROTHY DEEMS, in c A tall turkey-gobbler, with con-
her dove-colored hat, fident pace,
On a sweet, sunshiny day, '" ,.1. Flapping his wings in the air,
Taking-her grandmama's coal- ,. Fell in with Dorothy Deems
colored cat, ", face to face-
Started to run away: But Dorothy was n't there!
Dorothy Deems Dorothy Deems,
Had been-so it seems- To judge by her screams,
Abused and misused in a terrible way! Regretted exceedingly this whole affair.

Dorothy fled.with the coal-colored cat,-
In an undignified way:
Trotted off, trailing the dove-colored hat;
Reached home in tears. But they say
Dorothy Deems,
In her wildest dreams,
Will never again think of running away.

Nell K. McElhone.

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ON board the good ship Vincennes," dur-
ing a cruise in the Pacific Ocean, a party of
English and American officers were one day in
the cabin talking cheerfully of the Cape and the
cruise, when, as if by magic, every countenance
changed. Spellbound for an instant, all sat
-intently listening. There was a strange com-
motion in the ship. Then came that noise of
hurrying feet, unaccompanied by the voice of

in which were caught the ominously coupled
words: "Shark!-Boy!" In a moment all
were on deck. Glancing over the side rail, we
saw in a row-boat moored to the end of the
side boom, a few feet from the side, one of the
ship's boys, a bright, cheerful little fellow, stand-
ing erect, holding a boat-hook ready to strike.
Gliding slowly toward him, scarcely rippling
the surface of the water, through which its broad

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command, which, breaking the silence-of a well- back could be plainly seen, was a great white
disciplined man-of-war, and echoing below, in- shark- a "man-eater": such as in former days
spires a creeping fear of unknown evil. There followed in the wakes of captured slavers,
were, too, half-suppressed exclamations of alarm, prizes to her Majesty's cruisers on the coast.


The crew of the Vincennes stood aghast,
powerless to aid. Some called to the boy to lie
down in the boat; others shouted to him to
pull away. But, wholly intent on the movements
of the fearful creature, he did not hear them.
We had not long to wait; the shark came on,
raising its head out of the water, so that its
sinister eyes could be seen. Pressing heavily
on the wale of the boat, it bore down the side.
We expected to see the boat roll over upon
the shark, and held our breath. Down came the
iron-pointed boat-hook with all the force a boy-
ish arm could give it. A blow, and then a quick
thrust, and the light boat, buoyant as a feather,
slipped out from under the shark's head and
righted herself.

ladder, and, springing up, climbed to the boom,
along which he tripped lightly to the ship.
Under his little blue jacket beat a man's
heart-as, indeed, all knew before, for once it
chanced that at Madeira some people came on
board, in time of famine, asking alms. Among
those who contributed was this boy, and so
liberally, and with such a matter-of-course air,
that a jovial seaman called out, Hallo! old
man, what are you about?" "Jack," said the
boy, looking back over his shoulder, as he
walked away, I know what it is to be poor."
But to return to the shark. Reluctant to give
up its expected prey, it was gliding round the
now empty boat, flashes of a pale greenish light
playing around the dark mouth working in

iW~L: ~



It was a gallant sight, to see that sailor boy
standing undaunted before what might indeed
be called the jaws of death. Rapidly and well
did he ply his weapon. The shark, baffled,.
drew back as if to take measure of the brave
little fellow, preparatory to a final rush which
should seal the boy's fate. In that perilous
instant, cool and collected, seizing the painter
with one hand while he pointed the boat-hook
with the other, to ward 'off the shark's attack,
the boy quickly drew the boat under the rope-

fretful impatience. Sinking, it reappeared be-
neath the boat, and putting its nose under the
stern, tossed her up in the air. This was done
several times; then, coming close to the side
of the ship, abreast the gangway, it placed
itself upright in the water, looking up, and
mouthing the copper. Again turning away, it
swam restlessly about. During this interval,
however, brief as it was, a boat had been
manned on the other side of the ship, and now
appeared swiftly rounding the stern under the



impulse of six bending oars. It was headed for
the shark. In her bow a brawny seaman, with
bared arm, poised his harpoon. When within
striking distance, he drove the weapon with so
true an aim and such force that it-buried itself
to the wood. With a twirl that made the water
boil, the shark darted away, the boat surging in
its wake, and fairly leaping at every sweep of
its broad tail., Round and round they went as
the shark vainly struggled to free itself from
the barbed iron; at length, passing under the

bow of the ship, between the chain-cable and
the stem, a space too narrow lor the boat to
follow, it jammed her there, tightened the rope,
and with one tremendous effort broke away.
The disappointed crew hauled in the line, to tind
the iron shat of the harpoon bent nearly
double by the fish's struggles. They saw the
shark no more.
So tenacious of life are these ferocious crea-
tures, however, that this one may have recovered
from the wound, severe though it was.



A GLAZED cap pulled down over a chubby,
stolid face, a compact little body clad.in.blue
jeap blouse and very voluminous trousers,
hands stained with chemicals, and thrust into
pockets when not filled with newspapers -
there was no confounding young Edison with
a mollycoddle. His father tells us that he
"never had any boyhood days; his earliest
amusements were steam-engines and mechan-
ical forces."
In Milan, on the banks of the Huron River,
where he passed the first seven years of his life,
he seems to have joined in the boys' games;
but soon marbles, ball, and hop-scotch were left
to less ingenious urchins, while young Edison
constructed plank roads or dug tunnels and
caves along the shore.
Canal-boats plied upon the river. The boy'
learned to imitate the boatmen's refrain, and
before his fifth year was amusing.the villagers
by his clever songs.
His interest in tunneling was rivaled by his
love for chickens. Astonished at the results of
a goose sitting on a nest of eggs, the inventor
thought to increase the broods by a device
of his own. One day the boy was missed from
his usual haunts. ,Messengers were sent in
search of him and found him curled up in a

nest he had made in the barn.. It was lled
with goose and hen eggs, upon which he ;was
sitting, trying to hatch them!
There was one phase of Milan child-life
in which Edison, happily or unhappily, hardly
shared. He was not one of those who daily
trudged with satchel and books to the white-
washed school-house. Indeed, Edison went to
school for only two months. In her youth his
mother had been a teacher in the Canadian
High School. She taught her son at home,
impressing him with the love and purpose
of study. .Like many of the world's greatest
men, Edison owes much of. his fame to his
mother, to whom he was a devoted son. Read-
ing was his delight. His father, to encourage
him in :the habit, paid him for every volume
he finished. At the age of seven, the family
removed from Milan to Port Huron, where
Edison, on the shores of Lake Erie, continued
to build roads and dig tunnels, during the same
time pursuing his studies at home with the
industry and concentration that continue to
dominate his life.
With Hume's "History of England," D'Au-
bign6's History of the Reformation," Gibbon's
" Rome," Sears's History of the World," the
"Penny Encyclopaedia," and various scientific


works, he had well stored his mind before he
began as a train-boy to carry a basket of figs,
apples, toys, periodicals, and newspapers. In
the ups and downs of this rugged calling Edi-
son found his university education. He always
refers to this period with a humorous gleam in
his searching eyes.
His "run" was from Port Huron to Detroit.
Night, however, always found him in the shel-
ter of his father's home-a large old-fashioned
frame building surrounded by a grove, and
with an observatory that commanded a glorious
outlook over the broad river and distant hills.
Business increased rapidly, and soon the boy
had to employ four assistants.
At this period, Edison's inventive genius first
asserted itself. The war had just begun. News
was eagerly awaited. It was this dull-looking
newsboy who hit upon the novel idea of tele-
graphing, in. advance of his train, the head-lines
of the war-news columns, which were promptly
bulletined at the stations. When the train ar-
rived his papers sold with electric speed.
His stock in trade was purchased principally
at the Detroit end of the line, where his repu-
tation as an "honest boy" who did a "cash
business" was soon established. Between trains,
he was often to be found in the Detroit library,
where he undertook to read every volume on
the shelves. Beginning at the bottom shelf,
he read a line of books fifteen feet long, when
he abandoned the task to dip into poetry and
fiction, finding great pleasure in Victor Hugo's
"Les Miserables" and "The Toilers of the
Sea"- books which are still favorites.
Gifted with a remarkably retentive memory,
Edison has always been able to quote exten-
sively from his vast fields of research, and is
still able to refer without difficulty to the great
store of information at his command, when re-
quired in his manifold experiments.
Had Edison been a less energetic boy, he
might have remained to this day a vender of
news. But scarcely had he reached his fif-
teenth year when he resolved to edit and pub-
lish a paper of his own. For this purpose he
purchased three hundred pounds of old type
from the Detroit Free Press whose compos-
ing-room was one of his favorite resorts when
off duty.

Attached to his train there was a springless
freight-car with a room set apart for .smoking.
Owing to the bad'ventilation, passengers rarely
entered this compartment. Here the newsboy
deposited his type and set about the publica-
tion of The Grand Trunk Herald. It was
a twelve- by sixteen-inch sheet, printed by the
pressure of the hand and on one side only.
The Herald was issued weeklyand sold for
three cents a copy or eight cents a month, and
reached a circulation of several hundreds. The
columns, as. is shown in the illustrations, were
devoted to railway gossip, changes, accidents,
market-reports, and general information. Rail-
road men of prominence were among its con-
tributors, and it became celebrated as the only
newspaper in the world printed in a railway
train. The journalistic ambition of the young
editor was satisfied when the Herald attained
editorial mention in the London Times.
Not content with his success as editor, pub-
lisher, and train-boy, Edison now purchased
on the instalment plan a supply of chemicals,
and having secured in the railroad shops some
old retorts in exchange for papers, he fitted
up in the Herald office a chemical labora-
tory. Rich in Fresenius's "Qualitative Analy-
sis," which he had thoroughly studied, and the
materials now at hand, he stood on the thresh-
old of a new world, with the dawning conscious-
ness of the message nature's untried forces had
in store for him. Alas, an extra jolt of the
springless car one day played havoc with the
rudely constructed laboratory! In the wreck
was a bottle of phosphorus from which the
water had evaporated. The phosphorus ig-
nited and set fire to the car, and, before he
could say Jack Robinson, the hapless young
chemist, editor, and vender was soundly cuffed
by the infuriated conductor and thrown bodily
from the blazing train!
Recalling "the incident,. years afterward, Edi-
son in the laboratory at Menlo Park gave so
practical an illustration of the catastrophe that
an explosion ensued, filling the place with sti-
fling fumes and creating a stampede among
some distinguished scientists assembled in a
room above the laboratory. Through the blind-
ing vapor they descended, excitedly demanding
an explanation.



Oh!" said Edison, amused at their panic,
"I was only showing the gentlemen how that
explosion occurred on the Grand Trunk Line."
The destruction of the boy's railroad labora-
tory transferred his operations to the basement
of his father's house in Port Huron. In order
that his chemicals should not be disturbed, he
labeled every bottle Poison."
At this time he made his second venture into
the journalistic field by the publication of a
newspaper called Paul Pry. It was a more
ambitious publication than the Herald, and
had a host of contributors and a large sub-
scription-list. Its fate, however, was scarcely
less disastrous than that of its predecessor. A
contributed article gave offense to a subscriber,
who, meeting the editor-in-chief on the banks
of the St. Clair, deliberately pitched him into
the river.
His success in telegraphing the war-column
early impressed young Edison with the power
of telegraphy. His curiosity on that subject
was thenceforth insatiable. He read every-
thing on electricity that he could get; he be-
sieged the telegraph offices and the railroad
shops along the line, and was the terror of the
engineers; and he never failed to beg for a
ride on the engine, where he frequently made
mischief by trying to solve for himself the why
and wherefore of the steam-horse's construction.
In the telegraph offices he could see the
cup with its copper, zinc, and acid, and hear
the click of the sounder; but whence came the
magical power? Determined to. find out for
himself, he constructed a short line from his
laboratory to the residence of his young assis-
tant and chum, James Ward. Common stove-
pipe wire, insulated with bottles placed on nails
driven into trees (and carried under an exposed
road by means of a piece of abandoned cable
fished up from the Detroit River), was the equip-
ment used. The youngster had seen sparks
emitted from a cat's back. Judging that there
must be a good battery where the indications
were so strong, he inserted a cat in the circuit,
using the fore and hind feet as electrodes.
The connection made, he tried to start the
electric current by rubbing the cat's back.
Despite the animal's telephonic resentment of
the liberty taken, the experiment was not with-

out success. A tremendous local current and
perfect electric arc were produced, attended
by considerable disturbance; but as the battery
would not work, the line was soon abandoned.
His second venture in practical telegraphy
was the turning-point of his life. The story is
told as it was related to the writer by Mr. J. U.
Mackenzie, who during the early sixties was the
station-agent and operator at Mount Clemens,
As a newsboy Edison's run took him twice
a week through Mount Clemens on the train
known as the mixed" division. This train
reached that station' between 10 and ii A. M.,
and returned to Port Huron between 4 and
5 P. M. Young Edison was popular with the
railroad men, whom he delighted to enter-

tain in his train laboratory with chemical exper-
iments, and had made a stanch friend of the
Mount Clemens operator. Mr. Mackenzie and
his wife and family lived over the station.
It was a summer day. The "mixed" ar-
rived in good time, and the train was cut loose


ahead of the baggage-car in order to pick up escaped without injury. The act was heroic,
a car of freight on its way to Jackson. This and our gratitude was unbounded. I was just
left the passenger- and baggage-car at the north then unable, however, to substantially reward
end of the station platform. The engine and the young hero. Then I remembered his ab-
freight-cars backed in on the freight-house track sorbing interest in telegraphy. Many a time I

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and pulled out the car on to the main track,
without a brakeman, giving it a gentle push to-
ward the baggage-car. The track was very
My son, then two and a half years old," said
Mr. Mackenzie, "unobserved by his nmrse, had
strayed upon the main track and was amusing
himself throwing pebbles, when Edison, who
stood near with papers under his arm, turned
and saw the child's danger. Throwing aside
his papers, he plunged between the cars just in
time to drag himself and the child clear of the
approaching cars. Excepting scratches, both

had driven him from the office, for his curiosity
led him into all sorts of mischief, to my annoy-
ance. 'Al,' I said,' stop at Mount Clemens from
SI A. M. until 4 P. M. several days each week,
and I will perfect you as an operator and get you
a position.' The offer was eagerly accepted.
"Edison soon had erected a line from the sta-
tion tank to my brother-in-law's sleeping-room
over the station. The instruments used were
made by Edison's own hands at a gun-shop
in Detroit. In construction and operation they
were perfect. Subsequently the boy put up a
perfectly equipped working line from the sta-


tion to the village drug-store a distance of
one mile. It worked very well in the fine,
dry weather during which it was built, but
the first rainy day rendered it useless. It could
hardly have been otherwise, for nine-tenths
of the line was fastened with mere penny nails
to the cedar of a snake-stake. There were no
insulators of any kind, and the line was what
is known as stove-pipe annealed wire. Except-
ing two paid messages sent over this line, the
whole was a financial failure.
One day while the line was in operation Al

the 'duplex' was contested, I recalled to him
the incident.
"' Had I had your evidence, Mackenzie,'
said the inventor in reply, 'it would have saved
me $300,000.' "
In three months the pupil excelled the mas-
ter, who had no hesitation in recommending
him to the telegraph superintendent. Edison
became night operator,.at Stratford, Ontario.
Young Mackenzie now rides the largest bicycle
in the United States, and is a trusted man in
his rescuer's employ.

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rushed into my office, his ey
'Mr. Mackenzie,' he cried,
messages at the same time ov
"'Away with your nonsen
drove him out of the office.
trial in which Edison's claim


es electric sparks. In telegraphy, operators are taught; receivers
' I can send two must be born. Equipped by nature and train-
rer a single wire !' ing, Edison gave up the newsboy life, in which
se !' I replied, and he had earned in four years $2000, the greater
After the Boston part of which he gave to his parents.
to the invention of Now began his migratory career as a tele-

J ..


graph operator. Many ups and downs were
his. Often he was cold, hungry, and shelter-
less, for the insatiable impulse to experiment to
the neglect of his duties kept him continually
out of work. One day he reveled in the praises
his ingenuity evoked; the next, he was dubbed
' Luny and turned adrift.
Perhaps his most ingenious boyhood feat
was performed during an ice jam that broke
the cable between Port Huron in Michigan
and Sarnia in Canada. The n\er at this
point is a mile and a half wide. The ice made
the river impassable, and there was no way of
repairing the cable.
Edison impulsively jumped on a locomotive
and seized the valve controlling the whistle.
He had an idea that the blasts of the whistle
might be broken into long and short sounds,
corresponding to the dots and dashes of te-
legraphy. In a moment the whistle sounded
over the river: Toot, root, toot, toot-toot,
toooot toooooot toooooot toot, toot -
toot, toot. *
Hallo-o! Sarnia! Do you get me?"
'" Do you hear what I say ?"
No answer.
Do you hear what I say, Sarnia ?"
A third, fourth. and fifth rime the message
went across, to receive no response. Finally,
the operator on the other side understood. An-
swering toots" came cheerfully back, and the
connection was established.
Always indifferent about his dress, with hair
that stood up like quills upon the fretful por-
cupine." Edison's wanderings brought him at
seventeen years of age to the Cincinnati office
of the Western Union. where his absorption in
electricity and predictions of its future power
confirmed the sobriquet Luny," which clung
to him even until his fame was established.
We have the craziest chap in our office,"
said the telegraph manager to the editor of the
Cincinnati Ctmmcrcial Gazette; "he- does all
sorts of queer things. I wouldn't be surprised
if he should be great some day. Let me tell
you, his last prank. We have been annoyed
for some time by cockroaches. They infested
the sink. They don't now. 'Luny' fixed them!
He just ran two parallel wires around the'sink,

and charged one with negative and the other
with positive, electricity; bread-crumbs were
then scattered, and when Mr. Cockroach ap-
peared and put his little feet on the % ires, ashes
were all that \ere left to tell the tale." In this
cockroach annihilator" was the germ of the
incandescent light.
Up all night as telegraph operator, Edison's
curiosity would not let him sleep in the day-
time. Inquiringly he roamed about the libra-
ries or machine--hops of the town in which
he happened to be, and night not unfre-
quently t:fund him unfitted for duty. Operators
were required to report every half hour to the
circuit manager. How to comply with this
regulation and indulge in a nap at the same
time was a conundrum Edison's fertile inge-
nuity soon solved. He ngged up a % heel with
Morse characters cut in the circuriference in
such a vway that when turned by a crank and
weight it would write the figure --six" and
sign his office signal. The promptness with
which Edison's office always responded was
soon commented on at headquarters. Once,
however, the main office sent a message, ask-
ing that a train be held. There was no re-
sponse. The young rogue had not counted
on this. Investigation was set on foot, the
trick was discovered, and again the boy oper-
ator was adrift. The District Telegraph of to-
day is the substantial expression of this sleepy
lad's device to partake undisturbed of nature's
sweet restorer, balnmy sleep."
Wherever he went, in these boyhood days, he
had a workshop, and every telegraph office in
which he tarried witnessed some electrical freak
of his restless brain. In some forrm or other,
his subsequent inventions embody these boy-
hood contrivances.
The determination. industry, perseverance,
honesty, and temperate habits of his boyhood
followed him into manhood. The forty-five
distinct inventions with which he has since rev-
olutionized modern civilization, his library of
100,000 volumes, the best-equipped laboratory
"n the world, are but the larger expression of
the tastes of the Grand Trunk Line newsboy,
in whom his contemporaries were unable to
divine the Wizard of the Nineteenth Century.,

rThe whistle blasts corre-p.'nd to the following telegraph signals:----- --- --
-- which spell, in the Morse alphabet, HALLO-O.



EHO LD us! We are on our
Say to the South; we are
in the land of the cactus,
the maguey, and the
S banana, the land of
sun and of shadow,
of almost medieval ro-
Smance, of cold moun-
t ain height and fertile
In front rides Simon Casey, the guide, alert
and active. on his big brown horse; his sharp
blue eyes take note of all things, from the
dropping leaf to the distant reflection of the
sun on the mountain peak that indicates high
noon. On his right trots Rangoon," with big
eyes wide open and watchful, one restless ear
pricked forward, the other back, listening for a
word from me. At my other side, Will Grant,
in a brand-new hunting-shirt, bestrides his roan.
Behind us, Herries, Hexam, and Miner ride
abreast, while the swarthy-faced Crix, the
Mexican who generally presides, over our
mess-kettle, brings up the rear on his agile
Indian pony.
A tall, angular, consumptive-looking fellow
was Tom Herries when he first came out on
the plains. Physicians shook their heads at
him. But now the angles of my friend's frame
are well rounded out, he never coughs, his
skin has a healthy bronze, he will ride as far
and fast and hunt as well as the next man.
The superb mountain -air and the healthy out-
of-doors life have made a new man of my friend.
Hexam, a short, stocky, active fellow of
twenty-six,' rides one of the mustangs of the
country; he does not believe in the natural
viciousness of mustangs. "Respect a horse," he
says, and he will respect you." I agree with
Hexam there.
Herries believes that Hexam and his horse
are well matched; for his own part, he cannot

ride a mustang-his long legs would drag on
the ground. Consequently his horse is a big
sorrel American, well broken in to all the details
of a hunter's life. Miner's animal is a queer
piebald, with a deal of intelligence and sagacity
under his odd skin.
I have been particular to -introduce to you
the four-footed members of our party, because
I consider them of great consequence. Why
should I not? A hunter's life often depends
on the courage, the training, the sagaciry of his
horse; one comes to be strongly attached to
these dumb companions of one's adventures
and hardships, and the rider's attachment is
often repaid by fidelity on the part of the
Rarely were our journeys undertaken along
traveled or frequented routes. We sought
rather the byways of the mountains, and little
villages seldom visited by Americans; and we
frequently came upon scenes of natural beauty
and grandeur which would offer rare inspira-
tion to the artist. As a natural consequence,
we .often had queer experiences which could
never have come to us had we followed the
tamer, beaten tracks of sight-seeing tourists and
In due course we-came to Montresa. I
never saw Montresa on any map. It is a
queer, ruinous, dirty little place; perhaps there
are two hundred inhabitants, men, women, and
children.. The one inn must have been hun-
dreds of years old; it reminded me of some
old Moorish architecture I have seen abroad.
There was a stone fountain in the outer court,
with dragons' heads carved on it, that was
really beautiful, though the carvings were worn
with age. The place must have been originally
quite a town; but now fully half the houses
were deserted.
. These Mexican towns seem to present them-
selves suddenly before you. There are no sub-


urbs; you see the town a long way off, and the
houses ate all together. Often the remains of
a wall surround them, or stone gate-posts orna-
ment the entrance of the principal street; Down
the one street of Mlontre.sa we rode at a slow
trot, the lounging inhabitants fixing on us eyes
of lazy curiosity.
Not to make a long story of it, we were ig-
stalled in due season at the inn. The worthy-
or unworthly- Seior Juan Ferniero, his two
brothers, his wife Ifiez, her mother, and his
niece Manna, were the members of his interest-
ing household.
All went well till dinner was served. Then
Sefiora Ifiez came in to wait upon us; and with
her came a boy of perhaps a dozen years.
The boy immediately attracted my atten-
tion. No lexican about him-his eyes were
blue, his hair was blond and curly. He. mani-
fested mortal fear of Sefiora Ifiez, who treated
him quite as one might treat a dog. He ran
hither and thither at her bidding; he brought
tortillas, coffee, and the fruit after meat.,
Where under the sun did the Mexicans get
that little chap ? said Will Grant to me.
The boy understood English; that was plain
from the quick flash of his eye at the question.
Still he never said a word, only shot a fearful
glance at Sefora Iiez. But the Mexicans, hap-
pily, understood only their mother-tongue.
Nobody knows only he seems afraid of
his life," said I. And just then Sefor Juan
called his wife through the open window.
"Look here, boy," said Will, in Spanish,
stretching out his hand. But the youngster,
quick as a flash, thrust into it a dish of tortillas,
saying rapidly and with an apprehensive glance
toward the Sefiora's broad back, "Tortillas,
senior? -si, senior"; then he added under his
breath in English, "Don't you speak to me.
If you do, she '11 send me away "; and with
a dive he was gone into the kitchen for hot
A general glance of astonishment passed
around the table. No further notice was taken
of the child for some minutes;. but we felt
that something was wrong.'
"Here, you little--hi! -what's your name ?"
said Miner, presently, in Spanish, as he tiped
back lazily on his bench. Some more coffee,

-what do you call him, sefora, my good
"Henriquez, senior," answered the woman,
" ith a courtesy.-
"Your child, is he ? '
"My child! not he, senior. A servant-,
a slave that my husband bought three years
ago." She checked herself suddenly, [.e.~tow\ed
a blow on the boy's shoulders, and bade him
get to work for a lazy scamp -did n't he see
that senior the gentleman wanted some coffee ?
"He has not your fine black hair, sefora,
nor your dark eyes-one car see that."
:" No," assented the woman. pleased at my
compliment, "no; he is a poor, bleached-out
good-for-nothing. One has to stand by with a
rawhide to get out of him work enough to pay
for his eating."
"Who, then, were his father and mother,
senfora ?"
"Who should know, senior ? with a shrug.
"Americans, surely," I suggested.
Perhaps,". assented Sefora Ifiez reluctantly,
with a half-glance toward. Senior Juan Ferniero,
who seemed now to be listening. But my
husband, there, paid a good price for him to a
Zuni Indian, who brought him here. More
than that I know not. Get to work in the
kitchen, boy!" she added spitefully to -lihe
child, "or else thy shoulders shall smart be-
fore night "
The child obeyed, casting on me as he pa-c-d
a pathetic look of silent appeal that went to my
heart. We said no more to the sefiora, but
conversed in English among ourselves.
: "Wal, now, we've stayed here long enough,"
said Simon Casey, stretching his long limbs af-
ter dinner, and I reckon we ought ter do quite
a spell of traveling' this afternoon."
Hold on," said I; I 'm not going to stir
out of this till I unravel the mystery about this
child. I 've a tender place in my heart for
children; and these people never came hon-
estly by that little American fellow. I don't
propose to leave him. here, either."
"Hullo !" said Grant, pushing back his som-
brero. "Have you thought, young man, that
you '11 be getting yourself into a regular Mexi-
can hornets'-nest ?"
S" Very likely," said I; "but I 'mi going to

.. UG.


stay, all the same. And, Will, I know of no was no epithet of scorn and abuse which she
fellow who '11 stand by me longer than you! did not heap on the unfortunate child. It was
and I slapped his broad shoulders, plain that he was a :scapegoat for the faults
"I 'm your man,", responded .the scout of the whole family.
briefly. "Juan, where is th:it obstinate ape-that
"What are you going to do, Rafe?" asked monkey? Where is Heniiquez ?"
Herries anxiously. "I know not," said Seni:r Juan, with a shrug.
"Circumstances must determine that," said He glanced suspici.:ously at us, but our careless
I. "I want a word with the boy, alone. How, demeanor reassured him. "Cannot Marina find
can I manage that?" him ?"
"If you 're really goin' to stir up a row Marina ? Doubtless, if she should try; but

r CA



"A ..> i C T F iACALLI !I:EE F .

-.. .. I..* 1 --. ;

i ,' "

Jl '' ," '

,.'. t, 12.

about the little chap," said Casey, who
had been meditating, with his hands on his
knees, "we '11 all have a finger in the pie, I
reckon. I '11 take a stroll about, if you 've no
objections, while you fellers sit here and
We had no objection, and remained lazily
extended on seats and benches, while the old
hunter stood leaning against the door and then
strolled slowly away. He was gone a long
time. During his absence, Seior Juan Ferniero
entered and held converse awhile with us; and
the mother-in-law came in search of the boy,
who appeared suddenly to be missing. There
VOL. XX.-49.

the jade favors the boy, I truly believe. The
imp! Truly, I will beat him for this!"
We pretended to pay no attention; but
through our casual conversation in English
every ear was intent.
Other Mexicans strolled in; our host was
obliged to direct his attention to them, and I
was able to slip out unobserved.
It occurred to me that, as the kitchen opened
into the corral, I might, if I went there, hear
or see something of the lad. A laborer rose
from the stone bench by the gate.
"What did the sefor Americano please to
want ?"


Nothing, mio amigo; go to. sleep again."
said I., "" I prefer to look after my own horse."
Thejaborer willingly sat down.
I looked around the corral. It was a large
one, and our seven horses were loose in it. A
stone tank, shaded by a big banana-tree, was
built against the high wall. A little thicket of
bamboos, bending over, screened a.niche be-
hind a broken, defaced statue which orna-
mented the wall midway of the tank.
Rangoon was at that moment drinking. I
strolled leisurely across to him, and put my arm
over his neck. I kept one eye on the kitchen
"How do you get on,' old fellow?" said I.
"Bread, eh ? or sugar? "-for he was snuffing
at my pockets.. Not a bit have I got for you,
I 'm sorry to say. Perhaps by and by-ah!"
A suppressed sob came from the bamboo-
shaded niche behind the old statue. I stepped
leisurely up on the wide stone margin and
walked around, just as if to examine the carv-
ing of the forehead and face. Yes there he
was, the forlorn boy, curled up in an uncom-
monly small space. One would not have be-
lieved he could get into the niche. There was
no time to lose.
-" See here, boy, where did you. come from,
anyway ?"
From Boston, when I was eight years old,"
answered the lad, with an unmistakable Yankee
accent; and his blue eyes flashed out such a
look of mingled hope and fear. Oh, can't
you take me away, sir? They never bought
"How did you come here?"
"My papa was sick, down here somewhere,
and mama took me and came down to find
him. We lived on street, in a big brick
house. We could n't find papa till he was
dying, and mama and Uncle Tom were sick,
so they could n't send word home to grandma.
Then Sefor Ferniero said he 'd take me to New
Orleans and send me home. But he never-
he took me here." A sob finished the words.
"Where was it that your mama died ?"
"I think it was in Montbrey," answered the
boy. .
And what .s your name ?"
"Harry Marston, sir. I have hardly dared

to speak one word of English since I've been
here. I would have forgotten how, if I had n't
whispered to myself sometimes. They whip nie
if I talk anything but Spanish."
"How old are you, Harry? "
"I think I must be eleven. I was about
eight when -mama died, and there have been
three summers since then:"
What under the sun does the rascal expect
to gain by keeping you here ?" I mused half to
"I don't know, sir; but, ahyway, he got all
mama's and Uncle Tom's things when he took
me; and then they make me do lots of work.
Can't you take me away,. sir ? "
Young fellow," said I, I mean to take you
away if I live to go myself. But you must be
smart and do as I tell you. I don't know
whether the rascal will make any row," I
added, examining the head of the old statue
with attention, for, I saw Sefior Juan and a
laborer just entering the gate.
"Oh, but he will! whispered the lad; "for
he said he 'd nearly kill me if I ever ran away.
What shall I do ?"
Stay where you are, this afternoon. At night
get on one of the horses' backs, and you can
scale the wall. Is there any place on the road
where I can pick you up ? "
"In the bushes behind the big cross as you
go to San Mateo. I '11 hide there," whispered
the boy.
"All right. I won't leave here till I get
you-be sure of that." I strolled away.
"Go down to the Mission,- he may be
there," said Sefior Juan to his man. He shall
smart for this! Senor Americano, have you
come across that imp of a Henriquez ? "
"I shall not go boy-hunting," I answered,
laughing." I have not been out of the corral,
selor mio amigo. You have not found him
yet? "
"No, senior," replied the Mexican, with an
ugly smile. "The rascal has left -run away,
it is probable. Wait till I catch him "
"If he is such a nuisance, why not let him
run?" said I lazily.
I do not part with my property so easily,"
answered the innkeeper. My two brothers
Roderigo and Miguel are searching the village.

* My friend.



He cannot 'have gone far. Oh, I will warm
him well!"
I wanted to knock the fellow down! To
keep my hands out of mischief L put them
in my pockets. We walked together toward
the gate, and I returned to the room where
my companions still sat. The old guide had
come in.
"Find out anything? said he.
"Yes," said I; "we '11 start to-morrow morn-
ing early. Every man had better see to the
saddling of his own horse."
"And one of us must guard the corral gate,"
suggested Will Grant, slily.
"Just so, Will, my good fellow. But if mat-
ters go as I think they will, we shall get off
peaceably. We 're to pick up the child on the
road to San Mateo."
I 've found out," observed Will, drily,
"that in this world things don't commonly
go as one thinks they will."
"I 've found out," said I, laughing, "that
after Will has had his croak out, there 's no
fellow readier than he to bear a hand in any-
S"Much obliged," said Will.
In this case we were forced to confess that
Will's prediction had more than a grain of truth
in it. Our plans were completely upset before
an hour had passed.
We were startled out of our waiting calm by
a shout of exultation from the corral, a child's
shriek for help, the loud-tongued vociferation
of the mother-in-law, and Senora Ifiez's shrill
We were on our feet in a minute, and rushed
through the gate, at which the quick-witted
Hexam took his stand, lest we should be shut
inside the high stone wall.
.A few brief sentences were exchanged in
that rush.
"Every man saddle his horse as quick as he
can," said Simon Casey calmly. No use now
waiting' for to-morrow, Rafe."
No," said I; I '11 carry him off."
"All right," replied Casey.
There was quite a scene in the corral. One
of the rascally fellows had discovered the boy
and dragged him from his hiding-place. Sefor
Juan, with a face of malignant joy, had him

by the jacket, and was dragging him across
the yard. The mother-in-law, flourishing a
big stick, pranced on one side, and Sefora
Ifez guarded the .other. Only Marina, the
host's niece, a good-looking young girl with
the black eyes and hair of her race, stood
aloof with an expression of compassion for
the terrified boy.
"Gain, us a little, time, Rafe; I '11 saddle Ran-
goon," said Will Grant. The saddles and ac-
coutrements were together under the archway y.
In less time than it takes to write it, every
man had his horse by the mane. The well-
trained animals rarely ran from their masters.
Senior Juan stared amazed as I coolly
blocked his way.
"Ah, Sefior Ferniero, you have then recov-
ered your boy?"
"I have, indeed," answered the innkeeper.
with a scowl of angry suspicion. He glanced
at my busy -coinpanions, at his wife and mother,
and back again at me.
"Where was he ?" said I.
"In the niche over the tank, senior. The
rascal!-the little imp! I will .teach him!
Ah-h-h-h!" .o
He shook the unfortunate child till the little
fellow's teeth chattered in his head. Truly, a
greater brute than Sefor Feriero I never saw.
"Juan, why do you stay here?" broke in
the old woman, angrily. "I am in haste to
get hold of him! Bring him into the kitchen."
"Stop, my good friend Juan," said I, keep-
ing in front of him; "you have not yet told
me how you happen to own the lad."
"What is that to you?" snarled Seior
Ferniero. He began to foresee trouble. He
glanced swiftly round, and shouted for Miguel
and Roderigo.
"Hola, sefiora! said I, sharply, to the old
woman, who threatened me with a stick.
"Don't you hit me, sefiora; if you do, you '11
probably be sorry!"
Out of the way, beast! shrieked the
furious old woman; and the big stick came
down with a vim. I just dodged it, whistling
for Rangoon at the same time. The inn-
keeper, taking advantage of the diversion,
started on a run for the kitchen with the
struggling boy.


"Kick, young un-!" shouted Will Grant, in
English. Kick, for your life!" And the child,
excited and frantic, made a desperate resistance.
Rangoon, on a rapid trot, circled half round
the excited group, as he came to me. He un-
derstood clearly that there was trouble. He
was saddled and ready. He passed close by
Sefior Juan, who was nearing the kitchen arch-
way, while I freed myself rather roughly from
the vengeful woman.
The boy, with a desperate spring, caught the
heavy Mexican stirrup, and silently held on for
dear life. Rangoon started sidewise with a
leap, and Sefor Juan, despite his wrathful re-
sistance, was dragged after.
"Hold on tight, Harry!-curl up your feet!"
I cried to him. Rangoon did not know what
to make of the incumbrance; he never had
been known to do harm to a child, but he
reared in the air, whirled spitefully round, and
attacked the innkeeper with teeth and forefeet.
To save his skin the terrified Mexican let go of
the boy and dodged. The women, frightened
for a moment at his peril, gave me a chance
to get to Rangoon, who plucked the boy's
jacket vigorously with his teeth, but offered
him no further harm.
The next instant I was in the saddle, and had
pulled Harry to a seat behind me. I felt then
that the battle was half gained.
Meantime, Miguel and Roderigo, two labor-
ers, and half a dozen other Mexicans had
appeared on the scene.
We were all in the saddle now, and held the
gate, while the other party gathered in the street
to. oppose our progress. Their numbers were
continually increased by wild-looking, half-breed
Indians who came running to join the fray.
SI '11 be glad to get out o' this," said Simon
Casey. Grant was alert and quiet, with a look
in his eyes that meant business. In the mo-
mentary pause that ensued, I whipped out a
spare strap and buckled Harry to myself. I
meant, whatever happened, to .bring off the
There were seven of us. I did n't stop to
count our enemies; I ani certain there were
twenty of them. The four hunters had all the
plainsmen's contempt for Mexican bravery;
my two friends were anxious but resolute; and

I-well, I saw clearly what I had to do, and
meant to accomplish it, if possible.
It is a mistake, boys, 'to think that a brave
man never feels fear. Some of the bravest
men I ever knew I have seen turn pale in the
presence of danger and death. But, notwith-
standing they knew the danger, they never
faltered. That man is bravest who by sheer
moral strength can face even terror and fight
it down.
"Men," said Simon Casey, in Spanish, to
the crowd, "stand back. This boy is ours.
Juan Ferniero never came by him honestly.
He stole him. We will pass peaceably if we
can, forcibly if we must. Stand back!"
The innkeeper had rushed through the house
to the crowd in front. He urged them with
shrieks and wild gestures to attack us. They
hesitated; we were mounted, with arms in our
hands. Seven resolute Americans were not to
be despised. Just then, as Harry leaned anx-
iously sidewise to peer around my arm, a big
stone came flying through the air and hit my
right shoulder-blade with a whack, almost
knocking the breath out of me.
One of the women in the corral behind us
jumped up and down and shrieked with joy;
it was she who had thrown the stone.
Come!" said I, "let 's get out of this.
An enemy in the rear is a bad thing."
"These women are worse than the men!"
exclaimed Will Grant.
A shower of stones began to fall thick and
fast from the women, and it quickened the
men's lagging energies. We saw that we must
waste no more time.
Keep together, boys," said Casey. "Rafe,
you and I will break through first. Now!"
Rangoon obeyed nobly my short, stern com-
mand. There was a rush, several men grasped
at our bridles--only to be kicked and beaten
off. There were shots, shouts, flying stones, a
veritable pandemonium of sounds -then we
came out ahead and were off at a gallop down
the long street with half the population at our
heels. A few were even in their saddles and
after us. But they did not follow us'far.
Not till we had put three good miles between
us and the village did we halt to examine the
extent of our injuries. Herries had got a bullet



through his arm-nothing dangerous, though;
Hexam and Miner were badly bruised by
stones; Crix, Will Grant, and Simon Casey were
slightly wounded; my hat had two bullet-holes
in it, and my back and Harry's were badly
bruised by stones. But, altogether, we had
cause to be thankful for our escape.
As night was falling fast, we had no resource
but to ride on and on along the wild, narrow,
lonely road, with the wild acacias on both sides,
the odd-shaped cactuses, ghostly enough in the
pale half-moonlight; with now and then a faint
glimmer from the low-lying meadows, sugges-
tive of dark water-pools in the hollows, and the
dark undulating outline of distant hills drawn
sharply across the fading yellow in the west.
The steam of the panting horses scented the
damp, still night; their tread alone broke the
silence of the wide country. All conversation
had ceased among the men.
I roused myself from an uneasy doze during
which my body had mechanically accommo-
dated itself to the easy lope of my horse. There
was now no yellow in the west; the purple star-

tpAk*" s

lit dome, flecked with drifting masses of cloud,
arched solemnly above us. Harry's head leaned
uneasily against my shoulder; he was half
asleep, but the closely buckled strap held him
Hark! the faint, mellow boom of the mid-
night bell in the cathedral of San Mateo floats
to us with strange, melancholy rhythm across
the dim, "descending slopes. Afar we discern
its white walls and ghostly towers. The men
find their tongues, we quicken our horses' pace
and go flying down the hill.
What a haven of rest to our tired frames will
be the Hotel San Mateo!
We wrote to Boston, to the address that
Harry rather imperfectly remembered, making
an appointment in the city of Mexico for the
last of the following month, and meantime kept
the boy with us. I am happy to be able to
add that no less than three near relatives of the
lad came to keep the appointment at the time
named, and the rejoicings over his recovery
were great. Harry is now at home in Boston.

. W-



ALL it misfortune,
crime, or what
You will-his pres-
ence was a
ir Where all was
A blot that
told its dark-
some tale
And left its mark a blight-
ing trail
Behind him everywhere.

He stood by the Atlantic's
And crossed the azure
And even the sea, so blue
About his wake grew dark and bore
The semblance of a stain.

On English soil he scarcely more
Than paused his breath to gain;
But on that fair historic shore
There seemed to gather, as before,
A darkness in his train.

Through sunny France, across the line
To Germany, and
up the Rhine
To Switzerland
he came;

Then o'er the snowy Alpine height,
To leave a stain as black as night
On Italy's fair name.

From Italy he crossed the blue,
And hurried on as if he knew
His journey's end he neared.
On Darkest Africa he threw
A shade of even darker hue,
Till in the sands of Timbuctoo
His record disappeared.

Only an inkstand's overflow,
0 Bumblebee! remains
to show
The source of your
Ab mishap;

But though you 've flown my ken beyond,
The foot-notes of
your tour du
Still decorate my

RAY tell me, sweet
S\ Oh kindly tell me
where you got
/ Y Your curious
S name?
I 'm most desir-
..e ous to be told
The legend or
romance of old
From whence it came.

~.: "

- .
- .&iI

I 've works on Botany a few,
But though I 've searched them through
and through,
Never a word
Can I discovering the same
About your interesting name.

Why, how absurd!

Quite so And now what could I do?
I shall be most obliged if you
Will make it plain.

Another time. One moment more,
And you '11 be drenched!
It 's going to pour:
I felt just now'no less than four
Big drops of rain.
(Aside) Indeed, I 'd tell him if I knew;
But it would never, never do
If I explained
That, long ago, I quite forgot
Why I was called Forget-me-not
.(It's well it rained.!).


Indeed, good sir, it seems to me,
If you have books on Botany
Upon your shelf,
You 'd better far consult those books-
He learns a thing the best who looks
It up himself.

? .



Master John Hawkins, having made divers voyages to the Isles of the Canaries, and there, by his good and
upright dealing grown in love and favor with the people, assuming that Negroes were very good merchan-
dise in Hispaniola, and that store of Negroes might easily be had upon the coast of Guinea, resolved with himself
to make trial thereof.
HE was a brave man; later he was vice-admiral of the English fleet which fought against the
great Spanish Armada, and was knighted for his bravery upon that occasion; a good man and
shrewd, writing in his ship-orders, "Serve God daily, love one another, preserve your victuals,
beware of fire, and keep good company." But he was the first of Englishmen to commit the sin
of taking up the slave-trade.
He made two successful voyages, returning home with his vessel laden with "hides, ginger
sugar, and some quantity of pearls." Then, upon the third voyage, disaster overtook him. Of
it.he wrote:
If all the miseries and troublesome affairs of this sorrowful voyage should be perfectly and thoroughly writ-
ten, there should need a painful man with his pen, and as great a time as he had that wrote the lives and deaths
of the martyrs.
Three accounts of this voyage have been gathered by Hakluyt: a brief one by Hawkins
himself, another by Miles Phillips, and a third by the simple gunner, Job Hortop. This last
account is as follows:
Lee, the Queen's powder-maker. Whom I
served until I was pressed to go on the third
voyage to the West Indies, with the right wor-
shipful Sir John Hawkins, who appointed me
to be one of the gunners in her Majesty's ship
called the "Jesus of Lubeck."
o[They went first to Africa, captured a cargo
of slaves, and proceeded to the "mainland of
the West -Indies."]
We came in, and tarried two months dressing
our ships; and in the meAntime traded with
certain Spaniards of that.' country. There our
General sent .us into a t6wn which stood on a
U high hill, to entreat a bishop there for his favor
and friendship in their laws. Who, hearing
of our coming, forsook the town in fear.
On our way up the hill, we found a monstrous
venomous, worm withtwo heads. His body,
"PROCLAMATION OF THE LEAGUE WAS MADE." was as big as a man's arm, and a yard long.
(SEE PAGE 778.) Our master, Robert Barret, did cut him in

I, JOB HORTOP, powder-maker, was from. my sunder with his sword; and it made the steel as
age of twelve years brought up with Mr. Francis black as if it were colored with ink.
*See ST. NICHOLAS for June, 1893.


Here be many tigers, monstrous and furious so used two of our company, had not one of
beasts, which subtly devour men. They use them looked behind.
the traveled ways, and will show themselves Our General sent the "Angel" and the "Ju-


twice or thrice to the travelers, and so depart dith" to Rio de Hacha, where we anchored
secretly, lurking till they be past. Then sud- before the town. The Spaniards shot three
denly they leap upon them. They would have cannon at us from the shore, whom we requited

t- y' *
if -y-

(SEE PAGE 779.)


with two of ours, and shot through the governor's
S house. In the mean rime, there came a cara-
vel from San Domingo, whom we chased and
drove to the shore. We fetched him thence
m spite of two hundred Spanish arquebus-
shot, and anchored again before the town ; and
rode there with them nil our General's coming.
We landed and planted on the shore our
field ordnance. We dro\e the Spaniards up
into the country abote two leagues.
Thence we shaped our course to Santa Marta,
where we landed, traded, and sold negroes.
There two of our company killed a mon-
strous adder going toward his cave with a cony
in his mouth. His body was as big as a man's
thigh, and seven feet long. Upon his tail he
had sixteen knots, even one as big as a great
walnut, which they say do show his age. His
color was green and yellow.
From thence we sailed to Cartagena, where
Twe went in, moored our ships, and would have
traded with them. But they durst not, for fear
of the king. We brought up against the castle
our vessel, the "Minion," and shot at the castle
and town.
Then we landed in an island, where were
many gardens. There in a cave we found
many borijos" of wine, which we brought away
with us. In recompense whereof, oar General
commanded to be set on shore woolen and
linen cloth, to the value thereof.
From hence by foul weather e wereer forced
to seek the port of St. John de Ullua. In
our way we met with a small ship that was
bound for San Domingo. On board was a
Spaniard called Augustin de Villa Nova. who
was the man who betrayed all the noble men
in the Indies. and caused them to be beheaded:
wherefore he fled to San Domingo. Him we
took and brought with us into the port of St.
John de Ullua. Our General made great ac-
count of him, and used him like a nobleman.
Howbeit, in the end. he was one of them that
betrayed us.
When we had moored our ships and landed,
we mounted the ordnance we found in the isl-
and, and for pur safeties kept watch and ward.
The next day after, we discovered the Spanish
fleet; thereof Lugan was general. With/him

* Small bottles.

tA light sailing %

came Ddn Martin Henriquez. whom the King
of Spain sent to be.,his;viceroy of the Indies.
He sent a pinnace I with a flag of truce unto
our General to know Of what country those
ships were that rode in the King of Spain's
port ? "
Who said, -' They were the Queen of Eng-
land's ships, which came in there for victuals for
their money. thereforee if your General wishes
to come in here. he shall give me victuals and
all other necessaries, and I will go out on one
side of the port, and he shall come in on the
The Spaniard returned for answer, "- That he
was a viceroy, and had a thousand men, and
therebfre he would come in!"
Our General said, -" If he be a viceroy, I
represent my Queen's person, and am a viceroy
as well as he. And if he have a thousand men,
my powder and shot will outweigh them!"
Then the viceroy, after counsel among them-
selves. \ ielded to our General's demand ; swear-
ing by his King and his crown, by his com-
mission and authority, that he would perform it.
Thereupon pledges were given on both sides.
and then proclamanon was solemnly made on
both sides: that on pain of death, no occasion
should be given whereby any quarrel should
grow to the breach of the league. And then
they peaceably entered the point, with great
triumphs on both sides.
The Spaniards presently brought a great
hulk, a ship of six hundred, and moored her by
the side of the Minion. And they cut out port-
holes in their other ships, planting their ordnance
toward us. In the night they filled the hulk
with men; which made our General doubtful
of their dealings.
Wherefore, for that he could speak the Spanish
tongue, he sent Robert Barret aboard the vice-
roy's ship, to know his meaning in those deal-
ings. Who willed him with his company to
come in to him, and commanded to be set in
the bilboes. t
And f:rthwith a trumpet (for a watchword
among the false Spaniards; was sounded for
the carrying out of their treason against our
General. Whom Augustin de Villa Nova, sit-
ting at dinner with him, would then have killed'
es;el used is a tender. t The stocks.

.. ,..] FROM HAKLUV\

with a poynado which he had privily in his
sleeve, but was espied and Iprevented by one
John Chamberlayne, 'w ho took the poynado out
of his sleeve. Our General hastily rose up. and
commanded him to be put prisoner in the Stew-
ard's room, and to be kept with to men.
The faithless Spaniards, thinking all things to
their desire had been finished, suddenly sounded
a trumpet..And therewith three hundred Span-
iiads entered the Minion.
\\Whereat our General, with a loud and fierce
voice, called. God and Saint George! Upon
those traitorous villains, and rescue the Minion !
I trust, in God the day shall be ours! "
\With that the mariners and soldiers leaped
out of the Jesus of Lubeck into the Minion,
and beat out the Spaniards, and, with a shot
out of her, set fire to the Spanish vice-admiral's
vessel; where the most part of three hundred
Spaniards were spoiled and blown overboard.
with powder. Their admiral's ship also was on
fire half an hour.
We cut our cables, drew off our ships, and
fought with them. They came upon us on every
side, and continued the fight from ten of the
clock-until it was night. They killed all our
men that were on shore in the Island, saving
three, which, by. swimming, got aboard the
Jesus of Lubeck. They sunk the General's
ship, and took the Swallow." The Spanish
admiral's vessel had about threescore, shot
through her. Four other of their ships were
sunk. There were in that fleet, and that came
from the shore to rescue them, fifteen hundred.
We slew five hundred and forty.
In this fight the Jesus of Lubeck had five
ihots through her rnainmast. Her foremast was
shot in sunder, under the lounds,t with a chain-
shot; and her hull was wonderfully pierced
with shot. It was impossible to bring her away.
They set two of their own.ships on fire,
intending through them to have burnt' the
Jesus of Lubeck; which we prevented by cut-
ting our cables in halves, and drawing off.
The Minion was forced to set sail, and stand
off from us, and come to an anchor without
shot.of the island.
Our General courageously cheered up his
soldiers and gunners, and ordered Samuel, his


*Poniard. t Projecting pieces near the masthead.

. 4 II

'S "VOYAGES." 779

page, to bring him a cup of beer, who brought
it to him in a silver cup; and he called to the
gunners to stand by their ordnance lustily, like
SHe had no sooner set the cup out of his
hand, but a shot from a light cannon struck
away the cup and a cooper's plane that stood
by the mainnmast, and ran out on the other side
of the ship. Which nothing dismayed our Gen-
eral; for he ceased not to encourage us, saying.
",Fear nothing; for God, who hath preserved
me from this shot, will also deliver us from
these traitors and villains!"
Then Captaii Bland, meaning to have turned
out of the port, had his mainma;t struck over-
board with a chain-shot that came- from the
shore. Wherefore he anchored. fired his ship,
took his pinnace with all his men, and came
aboard the Jesus of Lubeck to our General.
Who said unto him, that he thought he would
not have run away from him. He answered,
that he was not minded to run away; but his
intent was, to have turned up, and to have laid
aboard the weathermost side of the Spanish
fleet, and fired his ship in hope therewith to
have set on fire the Spanish fleet. The Gen-
eral said if he had done so, he had done well.
With this, night came on. Our General com-
manded the Minion, for safeguard of her masts,
to be brought under the Jesus of Lubeck's:lee:.
He willed Mr. Francis Drake to come in with
the Judith, and to lay aboard the Minion: to
take in men and other things needful, and to go
out. And so he did..
When the wind came off the shore, we set
sail; and went out in despite of the Spaniards
and their shot.
We anchored under the island, the wind
being northerly, which was dangerous, and, we
feared every hour to be driven with the lee shore.
When the wind came larger, we weighed
anchor, and set sail, seeking the river of Panuco
for water, whereof we had very little. And
victuals were so scarce, that we were driven to
eat hides, parrots, and monkeys.
Wherefore our General was forced to divide
his company into two parts. For there was a
mutiny among them for want of victuals. And
some said, that they had rather be on the shore


to shift for themselves amongst the enemy,
than to serve on shipboard. Those-that would
go ofn shore,. he willed to go forward by the
foremast; and those that would tarry, to go
by baftmast.*
,Seven score of us were willing to depart.
Our General gave unto every one of us six
yards of cloth, and money to them that de-
manded it. When we were landed, he came
unto us. Where, friendly embracing every one
of us, he was greatly grieved that he was forced
to leave us .behind him. He counseled us to
serve God, and to love one another. And thus
courteously he gave us a sorrowful farewell, and.
promised, if God sent hiim safe home, he would
do what he could that so many of us as lived
should be brought into England; and so he
did. Thus our General departed to his ships.
Fearing the wild Indians that were about us,
we kept watch all night.
And at sun-rising we marched on our way,
three and three in a rank, until we came into a
field under a grove. Where the Indians came
upon us, asking us what people we were, and
how we came there.
Two of our company, Anthony Goddard and
John Cornish, for that they could speak the
Spanish tongue, went to them and said, We
were Englishmen, that never came in that coun-
try before, and that we had fought with the
Spaniards; and, for that we lacked victuals,
our General set us on shore.
They asked us, Whither we intended to go ?
We said to Panuco.
The captain of the Indians willed us to give
unto them some of our clothes and shirts;
which we did. Then he bade us give them
all; but we would not. Whereupon the cap-
tain willed us to follow him, who brought us
into a great field, where we found fresh water.
He bade us sit down about the pond, and
drink; and' he and his company would go in
the meantime to kill five or six deer, and
bring them to us. We tarried there till three
of the clock, but they came not.
We traveled seven days and seven nights,
feeding on roots, and guavas, a fruit like figs.
Coming to the river of Panuco, two Spanish
horsemen came over unto us in a canoe. They

asked us, How long we had been in the v ilder-
ness, and where our General was? for they
knew us to be of that company that fought
with their countrymen. We told them, Seven
days and seven nights; and for lack of victuals
our General set us on shore, and he was gone
away. They returned to their governor, who
sent five canoes to bring- us all over.
Which done, they set us in, array;.,where a
hundred horsemen, with their lances, came for-
cibly toward us.' But they did not hurt us.
They kept us prisoners at Panuco for one night.
Thence we were sent to Mexico.
The king's palace was the first place we were
brought into. Without, we were willed to sit
down. Much people, men, women, and chil-
dren, came wondering about us. Many la-
mented our misery. Thence we were carried
in a canoe to a tanner's, house, which standeth
a little way from the city.
And then they brought us much relief,. with
clothes. Our sick men were sent to their hos-
pitals, where many were cured.
The viceroy intended to hang us. Where-
unto the noblemen of that country would not
consent, but prayed him to stay until the ship
of advice brought news from the King of Spain
what should be done with us. Then this vice-
roy sent for our master, Robert Barret, whom
he kept prisoner in his palace until the fleet
was departed for Spain.
The rest of us he sent to a town seven
leagues from Mexico, to card wool among the
Indian slaves.
Which drudgery we disdained; and con-
cluded to beat our masters. And so we did.
Whereupon they sent to the viceroy, desiring
him to send for us; for they would not longer
keep us.
The viceroy sent for us, and imprisoned us
in a house in Mexico; from thence to send
some of our company into Spain. The rest of
us stayed in Mexico two years, and then were
sent prisoners into Spain with the Spanish fleet
When we were shipped, the General called
our master, Robert Barret, and us with him
into his cabin; and asked us, If we would
fight against Englishmen, if we met them?
We said, That we would not fight against

*The abaft-mast, or mast nearer the stern.



our crown. But if we met with any other, we
would do what we were able.
He said, That if we had said otherwi-ce he
would not have believed us: and for that we
should be the better used, and have allowance
as other men had. And he gav.e n charge to
every one otr us, according to our knowledge.
Robert Barret was placed with the pilot, I was
put in the gunner's room, William Cause with
the boatswain, John Bear with the quarter-
master, Edward Rider and Geffrey Giles with
the ordinary mariners, and Richard. the master's
boy, attended on him and the pilot.
We departed from the port of St. John de
Ullua with all the fleet of Spain.
On St. James' Day we made rockets, wheels,
and other fireworks to make pastime that
night, as is the custom of the Spaniards.
When we came unto the. land, our master
conferred with us to take the pinnace one
night, to escape the danger and bondage that
we were going into. Whereunto we agreed.
None had any pinnace astern but one ship,
which gave great courage to our enterprise.
We prepared a bag of bread and a botijo of
water, which would have served us nine days,
and provided ourselves to go. Our master
borrowed a small compass of the master-gun-
ner oi the ship.
Who lent it to him, but suspected his intent,
and made the General aware of it.
He called R. Barret, commanding his head
to be put in the stocks, and a great pair of iron
bolts on his legs. And the rest of us to be set
in the stocks by the legs. Then he willed a
cannon to be shot of, and he sent the pin-
nace for the admiral and all the captains and
pilots to come aboard. He commanded the
mainmast to be struck down, and to put two
pulleys, on every yardarm one. The hang-
man was called, and he swore by the King that
he'would hang us.

The Admiral, Diego Flores de Valdes, asked
him, Wherefore?
He said, That we had determined to rise in
the night with the pinnace, and with a ball of
firework to set the ship on fire, and go our
ways; .- Therefore," said he, I will have you,
the cap[tins, masters, and pilot, to set your
hand unto that. For I swear by the King,
that I .ill hang them!"
Diego de Flores answered, "I,.nor the cap-
tains, masters, nor pilots, will not set our hands
to that!" For he said, If he had been pris-
oner, as we were, he would have done the like
himself. He counseled him to keep us fast in
prison till he came into Spain. For he would
not have it said that, in such a fleet as that
was, six men and a boy should take the pin-
nace and go away.
And so the Admiral returned to his ship
When he was gone, the General came to
the mainmast to us, and swore by the King
that we should not come out of the stocks
till we came into Spain. Sixteen days after, we
came over the bar of San Lucar.
[After twenty-one years in Spain, much of the
time in the galleys, he "made means to come
away in a fly-boat" belonging to a Fleming.]
In the month of October last, at sea, off the
southernmost cape, we met an English ship
called the Galleon Dudley," which took the
Fleming and me aboard, and brought me
to Portsmouth, where they'set me on land the
second day of December last, 1590. From
thence I was sent by the lieutenant of Ports-
mouth, with letters to the Right Honorable the
Earl of Sussex, who commanded his secretary
to take my name and examination, how long
I had been out of England, and with whom
I went.
And on Christmas eve I took my leavre of
his Honor, and came to Redriff.






[Begun in the November number.]

KA-KAK-KIA and his followers and their
enemies, with whom there was now tempora-
rily a truce, had of course made a search after
Beard and the white horseman whom he had
rescued; but they were not surprised at failing
to find either of them. One of the cave-man's
strong points, in their esteem, was that they
could not kill him, while another was his
magical power of vanishing.
They were puzzled, however, as to what had
become of the two white fellows who had shot
the kangaroos, by the cabbage-palm prairie.
They were also deeply interested in the six
white fellows encamped near the waterfall, and
as to the best method to take in boomerang-
ing or spearing them.
They were holding an animated debate
upon these questions, when the rattle of the
shots that,had been fired by Bill and Jim came
to their ears.
After that, the presence of the great dingo
pack gave them yet another problem; but they
knew the habits of wild dogs. Many kanga-
roos and other game had come or been chased
into those woods; many squads of dingoes
had been attracted. A hunt for something
to eat was as necessary to them as to the
fierce creatures who had already treed so many
of them, after driving away any large game
from that neighborhood; and they decided to
hunt, and fish, and dig before waging another
war. They were pretty sure of success. All
animals, large or small, all birds that could
be reached, nearly all things were food to
them. The Australian blackfellow has no nar-
row prejudices, and he can live well where the
ignorant, helpless white fellow might starve.
It was also true that they could do, at the

same time, all the scouting needful, and they
scattered in all directions.
Bill and Jim were still sitting in the forks
of their respective trees, discussing the dingo
question, the blackfellows, and Beard, when
they heard a cautious "Coo-ee-e" at no great
"Bill," exclaimed Jim, as he answered it,
"those are our fellows!"
What on earth are you two doing up those
trees ?" the new-comers asked.
The explanation, which was given as they
were getting down, brought on a lively talk,
and it seemed as if even the dingoes were of
less importance than the actual sight of the
owner of the nuggets and the excellent chance
of catching him.
We are sure of him now! they said. Bill
and Jim can go to camp for some rations.
We 'l go and take a look at the place where
you met the dingo pack. Don't you be gone
too long. We '11 capture him! "
They were hardened to the dangers of the
life they were leading, and they knew, besides,
that four experienced riflemen were a strong
party against any enemies likely to come.
The four went and stood under the great
tree before Beard's front door,, and looked at
it; but they never dreamed of burrowing under
the roots of the tree.

The great cavern was still secure, so far as
any search from without was concerned. Never
before had it been so brilliantly illuminated, but
the people in it were not admiring the gleam-
ing white splendors around and above them.
The cave-man himself had been the person
nearest to Lady Parry, as they retreated from
the edge of the chasm toward the fireplace,
and she had stared at him with a strangely
bewildered expression upon her face. Sud-
denly she staggered and reeled, and he put


out an arm, as if to save her from falling, ex-
"Sir Frederick, she is fainting!"
"No; I am not," she said, but it was evi-
dently with a great effort, and his help was
really just in time. He was compelled to sup-
port her for a moment, before she could re-
cover herself. Ned Wentworth had been
almost as quick to come, torch in hand, and.
he held it very near. ,As he did so, he saw
that Lady Parry had turned pale, and he
thought that he heard her say something.
Then he saw the cave-man's face turn deadly
white, and it seemed as if he also said some-
thing. It sounded like,:, "No; he is dead!"
"I never noticed it before;" said Ned to
himself, "but Lady Parry's eyes and hair cer-
tainly are very like the cave-man's."
The likeness came out strongly in the torch-
light, and a strange idea came flashing into
Ned's mind. But Lady Parry had already
recovered .her composure, and Sir Frederick
had been listening to Hugh.
"Father!" shouted Hugh. "Did you see
those dingoes ? They are crowded over. Down
they go-one, two, three of them! Look! "
One after another, three unlucky wild dogs,
pressed by an eager rush of their companions,
were forced over the edge of the chasm.
Down they went, and the splashes of their
plunges into the water below could be heard.
Their barking, or something else, had de-
tached a big stalactite from the roof over that
side of the chasm, and it had fallen, with a
shattering and a scattering of fragments, righr
among the pack. One or two must have been,
crushed and others injured; and all were smit-
ten with a sudden panic. The fire and the
falling rock, together, had temporarily con-
quered their ferocity, and they fled, howling,
into the unbroken darkness beyond.
"Of course they can get out," said Beard,
"and we 're rid of them for this time."
I am thankful," said the baronet. It 's a
great deliverance. But what I 'm thinking of
is the horses. If they have gone astray, or if
the wolves find them, we can't get away."
"They are cared for," exclaimed Beard.
They 're all away down below the mountain,
on the river bank, about where Ned found

Helen. There 's water enough there, and good
grass, too. They '11 be ready when we want-
"You 're a thoughtful man," said Sir Fred-
erick, heartilyy: "I don't exactly see what to
make of you."
Frederick," said Lady Parry, huskily,
"come with me! "
Again Ned Wentworth thought he saw
Beard's face turn white; but he had a ques-
tion to ask, and it kept him from noticing
S"Beard," he said, "we 've made a fire here,
but there 's more smoke than that can make.
It seems to me I smelt burning leaves."
"Leaves ?" said 'Beard. "You are right,
Ned; there 's smoke coming up from the
chasm.! I can't understand it. I had some
bags of leaves, to sleep on, in my old place,
but it can't be those. What can it be ?"
Lady Parry had led her husband away, and
at that moment she was looking earnestly into
his face, while she clung to his arm with both
hands. She was saying something rapidly, and
Ned heard the reply in the deep tones of the
"Fallen so low as this ?"
"He saved our lives," she said. "Yours,
mine -"
"Yes, Maude," he responded; "but what
brought him here ? "
He saved our lives!" she repeated, as if
she could think of no other answer, just then.
"Yes," he said, "and I do not mean to be
ungrateful; but how did he ever come to live
in a house of this kind ? Beard," he added,
more loudly, to the cave-man. Can you
come here for a moment?"
"Not now, Sir Frederick," responded the
cave-man. "I '11 explain by and by; Some-
thing new has happened. Do you smell that
smoke? See it rising from the chasm!"
"It smells like burning grass," said Lady
Parry. "Is the forest on fire? "
Not the forest itself," he said thoughtfully.
It 's too green, I should say. Sir Frederick,
I must speak plainly. The fire may make this
cave an oven! We may be in great peril."
"How so, Tom ?" said the baronet, throw-
ing a protecting arm around his wife.




"Tom?" said Ned 1Wentworth to himself.
"That was the name of her brother, in the
story he told me! That was the name of the
convicr they all turned against. That 's why
his face is like Lady Parry's."
Beard-or Tom Gordon, if that was his
name-hesitated for a moment, and then
replied to Sir Frederick:
--I never went over to the other side of this
mountain. It's more of a hill-a ridge-than
a mountain, and it is a succession of rugged
. ledges covered with thick scrub. You can't
get through, it 's so thick. I always took for
Granted that the river ran around it; but it
does n't. That 's the river, right down there
in the chasm. It runs underground for some
distance, just like twenty other Australian
SBut it won't burn," said the baronet; "and
the forest won't bur."
": The scrub on the hill is dry as tinder, at
this season." said Tom.. "The rubbish under
it will burn; and there 's a seam of hgnite
that will burn almost like hard coal. It's all-
'afire, I think."
Must we stay and be suffocated ?" asked
Lady Parry. Can't we get out at the front
"Now the dingoes are gone, there are only
the blackfellows and the -white robbers to fear,"
the cave-man said. "I will go and look out."
But the side door ?" said the baronet,
adding, the next moment.-"No; Maude and
Helen could never clinb that ladder."
"Sir Frederick," said the cave-man, with a
shudder, "'that door would lead us out into
the tire, I 'm afraid. Besides, one of our
worst perils is on that side. I '11 tell- you what
it is, as soon as I get back."
He strode away and disappeared among
the pillars: for they had all now returned to
the replace.
"Maude," said Sir Frederick, "this is all so
striaige, so unexpected, that I 've got beyond
being surprised by anything. I 'd hardly be
startled if the roof should fall."
"The boys have heard enough-" began
Lady, Parry; but she was interrupted.
So have I, Aunt Maude," said Helen, ex-
citedly, though not speaking loudly. "Is he
VOL. XX.-50.

my Uncle Tom ? Is this man we call Beard,
your brother, Tom Gordon?"
"Sir Frederick." said Ned, "may I tell
what he told me?"
-- Yes," said the baronet.
."Quick, Ned!" exclauned Lady Parry. "Tell
it before he gets back."
Ned was eager to tell all that he had heard
dunng his moonlight scout with Beard, arid
he was listened to with eager attention by the
whole party.
I believe it," said Sir: Frederick. ."Ii be-
lieve every word of it!'"
Believe it?" exclaimed Lady Parry. .'Of
course I believe it. Tom 's a wronged man.
Why did he not let us know? lMy poor
brother!, He was always heedless, and he was
proud, too!"
"I 'm glad he 's my uncle." said Hugh.
'"Iknew he was a gentleman, the first glimpse
I had of him."
That won't save his life," said Sir Fred-
erick thoughtfully. There 's too much evil-
doing been laid at his door. All the villains
made him their scapegoat." .- -
"* Frederick," said his i ife, "Tom could not
have done anything criminal! "
I don't say he did," replied the baronet.
"I mean that all the bushrangers laid their
deeds to him, and he must suffer accordingly.
There are rewards .offered:-' :
"But he did n't do anything!" exclaimed
Helen. "I know he did, n't!' They can't
hang him for things that.he did i't do."
"Yes, they might," said Sir Frederick. 1"I
don't see how he 's to clear himself."
"We 're bound to save himn!" exclaimed
Hugh; "he saved our lives!."
"Sir Frederick,' said Ned, "I think we
can, too. I 've an idea in my head that .oc-
curred to me whei he told me :the story, that
night. I 've thought how to save just such a
man as he told about!" And Ned talked
rapidly on for a minute or so.
Out at the cave door, Beard, or Tom Gor-
don, was peering anxiously through the slit and
into the faces of four men. Every face he
saw was that of a man who had been justly
conVicted of crime.
"Boys," said one of them, "he 's right


around here, somewhere. We '11 capture him,
nuggets and all."
"He can't get away, this time," said an-
other. "We '11 fix him! It's a pity we could n't
take him in and claim the rewards offered for
We can't do that," was the reply.
Beard, behind the bark door, muttered to
himself: "They won't get him; but I don't
see how he 's to get out of this. We 're all
shut in an oven."
The four men now began to make remarks
about the smoke, and to wonder where it came
I had a torch, before daylight this morn-
ing," said one of them. I threw it into some
scrub, not more than a mile above here, when
I was scouting toward the river, away from
the rest of you. It might have lit-"
Well, I guess it did," broke in another.
"Look up yonder!"
They looked along the slope, as he pointed,
but there was less and less to see every minute.
Great clouds and columns of smoke were rising,
and were driving before the warm north wind
that was beginning to blow.
Tongues of dancing fire now and then shot
up out of the smoke-clouds. There could be
no doubt of it, whatever : all that side of the
mountain was ablaze, and the flame was cross-
ing the ridge to come down on the other side.
It fed upon dense dry scrub and underbrush,
and the rubbish collected there century after
century. There was fuel enough, and, now it
was so well kindled, there would be fire and
smoke enough. The four robbers said so, and
Beard, or Tom Gordon, heard them. He went
back into the cave to tell the story.
Sir Frederick Parry heard him through, as
did all the rest; but while the rest looked at
one another in silence, the baronet beckoned
the cave-man to follow him.
"Tom," he said,-" Are you really Tom
Gordon? Ned Wentworth has told us the
story you told him-"
"I 'm Maude Gordon's-Lady Parry's-
brother Tom," the cave-man replied; "but
that's of little consequence, just now. I 'm a
doomed man, at all events; and I 'm afraid
we 're all lost."

"I believe every word you 've said," inter-
rupted the baronet; and that Yankee boy has
been proposing a plan for your benefit we can
discuss pretty soon. What did you say about
the greatest danger being at the side door?
How can anybody get in there?"
Nobody can," said Tom Gordon. That
is not the danger. I 'm a miner. That is, I
have been-"
I saw your crucible," said the baronet,
" and I hope you succeeded."
"I did," said Tom. "I hope to show you
how well. But that was done by placer-work,-
washing out, you know. I found a good quartz
vein, though, and I was fool enough to set out
to work it, just for something to do. I needed
to do some blasting, and I bought all the pow-
der one other party had. They 'd failed. They
had six kegs of blasting-powder and two big
cans of dynamite, and it 's all stored in the
crevice we came in by, at the side door. Logs
are piled over it. We 'd run the risk of an
explosion, if we went that way-"
"Is it sure to explode, sooner or later?"
asked Sir Frederick calmly.
Of course it is, when the fire gets in there,"
said Tom Gordon; "and there 's no telling
what it will do to the cave and the mountain."
"It will be a heavy blast," said the baro-
net. "At all events, the dingoes won't come
back while the mountain 's on fire. Is there
any chance for us at the front door?"
"Toward night there maybe-if we're alive
then," said Gordon. "We must get ready,
"If I can once reach my own camp," said
Sir Frederick, I think I can see you cleared.
The Yankee boy's idea is a good one."
If the baronet had then been at the camp, he
would have seen a very extraordinary affair.
His four men had evidently been riding far
enough and fast enough to tire their horses, and
had brought them back to the river for water.
All had dismounted, and now stood staring
out at something that floated down the swift
current of the river.
Marsh," said Keets, they can just keep
their fore paws well over it."
It rolls under them don't you see ?"

asked Marsh.



Don't I see ?" exclaimed Bob McCracken--
"don't I? Well, I do see; but I never in
all my life before saw three wolves a-floatin'
down-stream on one log!"
Three mournful howls from the dingoes on
the log came back for answer. The plunge
down into the chasm had, indeed, not been
enough to kill them.

"TOM," said Lady Parry, coming nearer to
him and her husband, I Wish you would tell
me more about yourself."
No, Maude," he replied; "not now. If we
ever get out of this place alive, I shall have
enough to tell you."
Have you any idea what to do? she asked.
"The fire cannot get in here."
No," he said. Yes, there is one thing we
can do, while we are waiting. Come with me,
Sir Frederick and Ned and Hugh."
He strode away, and the baronet and the
boys followed him down the sloping floor of the
cave. He and Sir Frederick carried torches,
and the two boys had to be told to leave their
guns behind, because there would be nothing
for them to shoot.
"Where can they be going, Aunt Maude?"
asked Helen.
"I have no idea," said Lady Parry. How
I do want to know more about Tom! It is so
many long years since we lost sight of him!
Why, my dear, your uncle has property in Eng-
land-not much, but enough to live on. His
brother-your father-would n't keep it from
him a day."
Of course he would n't," said Helen; but
what good is his property, if they hang him for
things that he never did ?"
"It's a dreadful situation!" said Lady Parry,
weeping. "Why did we ever come out into
the bush!"
Why, Aunt Maude," said Helen, we did n't
know it, but we really must have come out here
after Uncle Tom."
"And now we 've found him," replied Lady
Parry, between her sobs, "it is only to die

I don't believe it," said Helen. Don't
you see that we never would have found him
if we had n't lost ourselves first?"
Tom Gordon walked out of the main room
of the cave by a rugged, gloomy, water-drip-
ping corridor, and the rest followed him with
eager curiosity. Sir Frederick was about to
ask where it led to, when the cave-man halted,
"Look down through that hole. I used to
amuse myself by making bags of kangaroo-
skin to put the gold in. There 's enough of
them to hold it. Sir Frederick, you and I and
Hugh can go down and pitch the bags up to
Ned. Stay here, Ned."
"It's all gold exclaimed the baronet.
I ran it into bars as well as I could," said
the cave-man, "but the heap of slag out there
by the fireplace has plenty of gold in it yet.
I could n't get it all out, you know."
Down they went through the hole before
them, and they stood among the spread-out
bars on the floor of the treasure-chamber.
"Mark what I say now, Sir Frederick,"
said the cave-man. "Look at this stuff. I
never could quite understand why I worked so
hard to get it, seeing I had no use for it, and
never could have. Now, we may get you back
to the Grampians, and we may not. It 's
pretty sure death for me, anyhow. If I get
through into the world, of course the gold is
all mine. If I don't, you need n't say where it
came from. Give Ned a quarter of it, and
divide the rest between Hugh and Helen.
You and Maude and my brother Robert do
not need any of it. Perhaps the young people
don't, but I hope it won't hurt them."
"I '11 do Jist as you say," said the baronet.
"Trust it with me. But I think Ned's Yankee
idea will work. It 's just this-"
Not now," said the cave-man, beginning to
pick up the bars and drop them into the little
leather bags that lay beside them. There 's
no time to talk. Put the bars into the sacks
and pitch them up to Ned."
It was easy and rapid work, and as soon as
it was done they all clambered back to the
"There," said the cave-man, looking at the
heap of bags. "There's a lot of it. I 've been



at it, year after year, making trip after trip to
the gulches,-melting, casting, there and here,
because I had nothing else to do. I had nothing
to spend it on, and nobody to divide n ith."
" Well," replied the baronet," the bags weigh
ten or twelve pounds apiece. You and I can
take two in each. hand, and the boys one in
each hand. That 's twelve bags among us-
about a hundred and fifty pounds or less. We
can carry them all out to the front door, if
we 're not too long about it;. but we can't take
them away with us."
"Not this time," said Tom Gordon. "But
they '11 be there if we can come back. I think
we must work fast."
They gathered up their loads and went; and
no sooner were they where they could be seen
than Lady Parry,:standing up with a torch in
her hand, exclaimed:
"Frederick, where does this smoke come
from ? Is the cave on fire ? Is it a volcano ?"
No, my dear," said he, quietly; it 's only
the scrub and brush outside. The cave 's all
"What have you there ?'.' she asked.
"Some of Tom's property," he said.
"Mother! shouted Hugh. "It 's all gold!
Heaps of it! -Uncle Tpm 's a rich miner-"
And the poorest man in all the world,"
added Tom himself,- "an outlaw, with a price
on:his head-a mere dingo, to be shot at
"You must not be discouraged," said the
baronet, hopefully; "Ned Wentworth's idea 's
a good one. We can carry it out."
Down went the bags among the pillars, near
the burrow to the door, and they hastened
back for more, leaving Lady Maude and
Helen talking over the remarkable matter of
the gold bars. It was less and less easy to
talk without coughing, for the smoke was be-
coming denser and more pungent.

The four men at Sir Frederick's camp had
watched the wolves go by, and then Marsh re-
marked, with a slow shake of his head:
B'ys, I 've heard that dingoes could swim.
Yes, -I knew they were goppd swimmers, but
think o' the likes o' that!"
"'Deed, and I 'd heard they could swim,"

.said Bob McCracken. "I 'd heard tell how
cute they were, too,- cunning as foxes. But
who ever heard of 'em goin' to sea on a log
to help 'em cross a river ? "
The forest grew dim with smoke, bloi n
down from the blazing slopes of the moun-
tain. It was as if the bright December sky
were getting densely clouded, and the air grew
uncomfortably warm even for that hot season
of the year.
It was a bad day for hunting and for fishing
and Ior scouting. All the hunters and fisher-
men, whether black or white, wasted a great
deal of time in. watching the fire which was
now sweeping so fiercely over the mountain.
"That fellow will find himself roasted, Bill,"
said Jim, '"if he 's up there."
No, he won't," said Bill;. "but it '11 drive
him down to where we can get at him easier.
All we 've got to do is just to wait jud let it
burn tillit drives him out."
S"We '11 watch, around and get him," said
one of their comrades;-" but the fish won't bite
while that fire 's burning."

Tom Gordon had explained to Sir Frederick
that to lie in wait for him was precisely what
he belihe\e his enemies would do..
"Well," replied the baronet, "but: they '1I
ever dream of troubling you while you are
with us. It is n't six to one, any longer; It 's
six to four."
"Exactly," said Tom Gordon; "'but those.
blackfellows are on the watch, too. \\e must
avoid them as carefully as we do the robbers."
"That is n't all, Sir Frederick," said Ned
Wentworth. "You don't want any one to know
that he 's gone with you. That would upset
"Of course it would," exclaimed the baronet.
"Why did n't I think of that? Ned thinks
of those things, because he 's a Yankee."
Well," said Tom, I 'm a sort ofAustraiiin-
Yankee, and it 's time for me to do a little
scouting. I 've got to run some risks, and I 'll
take Ned with me. You must keep still hdre
till we get back."
"How long ?" asked the baronet.
::' I'm after-the-horses!" was all the reply
made by the cave-man, for some smoke in his


throat made him cough. There 's no time to
The great hollow of the cavern was getting
dim and blue, and not another word of opposi-
tion or inquiry followed Gordon and Ned as
they hurried out.
Sir Frederick's face grew suddenly pale over
a thought that came to him. He was always
listening, as if in dread of the explosion, and
that was one thing that made him so very silent.

I was out, in the night, I gathered them all into
one pile."
"I don't see how you did it," exclaimed Ned.
"I took a horse with me," said Gordon. I
knew where they were. Now, Ned, down on
all fours till we get under cover. Creep close
after me!"
Down dropped Ned, and he felt at once a
little safer. It seemed, too, as if the air had so
many sounds in it that a mere rustling could


The same thought kept Tom Gordon and Ned
and Hugh silent also.
The cave-man and Ned crept out of the bur-
row and stood in the bushes at the foot of the
great tree, looking and listening.
"The smoke is going to prove a help to us,"
said Gordon, after a moment.
"I came pretty near calling you Beard,"
said Ned. "Yes; I 'm glad. They can't see
far. There's one thing, though: if we get the
horses, what are we to do about the saddles and
"They're all safe," said Gordon. "When

not be heard by anybody. Voices were louder,
however; and they had hardly reached the first
dlump of thick bushes before Ned stopped
short. He stopped partly because Gordon
made a kicking motion back at him, with his
right foot.
"I hear them, too," said Ned to himself, as
he crouched low.
"Seen anything of him, Jim?" said a deep
gruff voice, not many feet away.
Not a sign of him," replied another. Have
you seen any blackfellows ?"
Not a sign of one," replied Jim.



Just then Ned heard a whirring sound in the
air and saw something flit above his head.
Hide, Jim! hide!" was shouted vigorously.
"That boomerang did n't miss me six inches !"
Now's our time, Ned!" whispered Gordon.
" Creep for your life! The blackfellows don't
yet know that we 're here."
Ned followed him, with an idea that he had
never until then known how close to the ground
he could creep, and how fast he could go.
"I 've just got it to do," he said to himself;
but at that moment he was again warned by
Gordon's foot. He crept alongside of him.
"Be careful!" whispered Gordon.
"There they are," whispered Ned.. "Half
a dozen of them. Can we get by?"
"Of course we can," said Gordon. "At least,
we can lie still here till they all get past us."
Ned lay like a log and felt afraid to breathe,
so very near to him and Gordon glided the
dark shapes of the savages. There were eight
of them, but one was only a boy, one limped
badly, and one of them had his left shoulder
tied up with leaves, as if it had -been wounded.

"Now, Ned, creep!" said Gordon. "We '11
be beyond all danger in five minutes."
Jim and his friend were dodging nervously
from tree to tree, holding their rifles ready to
shoot, and evidently considering that it was of
little use to scout after that fellow with the
nuggets," until they had provided against the
blackfellows and their threatening boomerangs.
"We must go for the others," they said.
"We '1 be safer when we 're all together.
We '11 go and get them and come back."
"Hugh," remarked Helen, as she stood in
the cave among the white pillars, is n't it hard
to wait, and not to know what 's coming? "
Unbearable!" said he. "And how thick
the smoke is! "
"It is pouring in faster and faster!" ex-
claimed Lady Parry. We cannot endure
this much longer."
"The whole mountain must be on fire!"
said Sir Frederick. "But the fire can't have
A great volume of hot smoke, rushed in, and
he sprang to his feet.'

(To be continued.)


IN the northwest corner of the gallery of the
great Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building
at the World's Fair is a cheery room contain-
ing the exhibit of the publishers of ST. NICHO-
LAS. When you visit the Fair;--as we hope
you will,-you must manage to find this room,
for it contains some things you will want to
see; and, moreover, it is a restful place, where
you can write your letters and feel at home.'
From the wide window-seats one gets a beau-
tiful view of the Lagoon, of the Wooded
Island and of the great buildings beyond.
The case at the very end of the room, as
shown in the picture on the next page, contains
exhibits of how illustrations are made, both
wood-engravings and photo-engravings, and
how a manuscript is prepared for the press.
Every process is shown by which illustrations

are produced for this magazine, including the
mysterious overlays,"- layers of bits of paper
which the printers paste on the cylinder of the
press to bring up the dark parts of an engrav-
ing, and make them print blacker than the light
parts of the same cut. The manuscript ex-
hibited is the article on "Philadelphia," by
Talcott Williams, which appeared in the March
ST. NICHOLAS; and you will see it in all its
phases, from the written "copy," through vari-
ous proofs with their corrections and additions,
up to the completed magazine. Among the
photographs above this case is a view of the
editorial rooms of ST. NICHOLAS.
SOver a case of rare Lincoln manuscripts,
on the right in this picture, is a frame contain-
ing the first chapter of Little Lord Fauntle-
roy" in the handwriting of the author, Mrs.




Burnett, and one of Mr. Birch's original draw-
ings for that famous story. On the outer wall
of the room are more ST. NICHOLAS manu-
scripts, among them Lord Tennyson's poem,
" Minnie and Winnie," which he wrote for,
this magazine, with poems by Longfellow, Bry-
ant, and Whittier, and the first pages of some
stories ST. NICHOLAS readers will recognize.
The manuscripts in the Lincoln case will in-

original drawings from ST. NICHOLAS, with a
great number of autograph letters from famous
writers. Here is the original design, by Pal-
mer Cox, for the cover of a new Brownie"
book, drawings for Lady Jane," Toinette's
Philip," "Inanimate Things Animated," "Uncle
Remus" stories, and much else; and the manu-
scripts include letters from Oliver Wendell
Holmes, Henry W. Longfellow, Louisa M.

W .W- ,
A ll .->* I V -*. *- :
*'^ ^ "S^^-^ ^-V. -- '


terest you, too, for here are some of the most
important documents written by the great War
President, including his call for 75,000 men,
issued when the Civil War began, and the
manuscript of the famous inaugural address
which he read from the steps of the Capitol,
March 4th, x86x. If you will look among the
pictures in the swinging rack (just a corner of
it shows in our photograph), you will find a
collection of original drawings of" Brownies,"
by Palmer Cox.
In the library of the Children's Building in
another part of the Fair is a collection of other

Alcott, James Whitcomb Riley, Thomas Bailey
Aldrich, and scores of other famous people. In
the Art Gallery there are more ST. NICHOLAS
pictures, and yet more in the Woman's Building;
while over in the Transportation Building a
section of the gallery is occupied by original
drawings from The Century and ST. NICHOLAS,
depicting various modes of transportation.
Indeed, ST. NICHOLAS is well represented at
the Fair; but it is a big place, and you cannot
see all the exhibits. Remember the room in
the northwest corner of the gallery of the
Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building.



Now listen, Baby :Ruth, to the story that
you like to hear. It happened in the Sonoma
forests of California, away north of Russian
River, where people go (as you did once) and
camp near the village of Cazadero, on the road
to Fort Ross and the ocean.- Once there was,
a little brown bear in the forest not very far
from Cazadero. He lived with his mama bear
in a dark place under a redwood-tree,-such a
place as Ruth saw when she lived in a little
cloth house among the trees, by the. creek'
where the salamanders.swim.
The little bear slept on a pile of dead leaves
in the bottom of the hole. His mama took
care of him, and sometimes he had bernes to
eat, and lots of things that he thought were
good. He was about as big as a little dog,
when the story begins.
One day the little, bear's mama went away
to catch a fish in the creek, and she told him
to be:a good little bear and stay at home under
the redwood-tree. So he crept under the leaves.
and went to sleep with only his head out, and
he slept a long time.
But there were two men who were walking
through the woods, and they happened to
come along close by the hollow tree where
the little bear was asleep. So one man looked
and saw the bear in the leaves, and he said:
"Let: 's catch the little bear and sell him to
somebody to play with."
Then the other man said that he was afraid
the big bear might come back in a hurry and
find them taking her little bear away, and that
she would bite them. /
But after they had talked it over, they
jumped down into the hole, and took up the
little bear. And when he woke he was very
much frightened, for two men were holding
him. He tried to get free, and he growled
just as loud as he knew how; but the men held
him tight, and ran away with him. They

weht across the creek, and climbed the hill,
and came to another creek by the railroad
track; and there were the station, and the hotel,
and children picking marigolds in rhe garden.
The men carried the little bear up to the
hotel, and Mr. Burns came out and gave them
some money, just as they expected he would.
Then he put the little bear in a box, and gave
him.some milk to drink, while all the children
stood around to see what happened. The dear
little bear was so hungry that he drank up all
the milk. Then he put his head down on his
two little brown pawvs, and as he thought ofhis
mama the tears rolled down his nose, and he
said, Ow! Ow Ow over and over to him-
self before he went to sleep. He meant to say,
I don't like this place at all, and I want to
go home."
A little while after the men caught the little
bear, the mama bear came home to her hol-
low tree, and she felt very happy, for she had
caught all the fish she could eat. She looked
and looked and looked, but she could not find
any little bear. Then she hunted along till
she found the footprints of the men, and she,
"guessed wh-it had happened. Then she ran
after them, but \ hen she came to the creek
she could not find whicl: way they had gone;
and after looking all night, she had to go home.
at last without her little bear. Then she left
the hollow under the redwood-tree, .and went
to live with a whole family of bears on the
other side of the mountain,-nice, friendly
bears, who were very good to her.
But the little bear stayed at Cazadero, and
played with the children. Then he grew big-
ger and bigger, till he had to be fastened to a
tree down by the creek; and a fence was built
around him, and the children fed him with
nuts, and cakes, and candy. He learned to
sit up and beg, he knew how to dance and
shake his chain when the band played, and


every one called him "the big brown bear of ing of the happy times he had when he was

Cazadero." Sometimes when he lies in the a little bear, and lived with his mama in the

shade with his head on his paws, he is think- hollow under the redwood-tree.

j ..; .'.
*r~b -A,-
- F




I r.



NE of the best-known
of the sea-birds is the
stormy petrel. It is
oftenestt seen during
storms, flying above the
waves in search of the
shell-fish and other
small animals which
are brought to the sur-
face by the tempest. The sailors call petrels
" Mother Carey's chickens," and do not view
them with much favor, owing to their being
constant companions of storms. "Jack thinks
that rough weather may be expected when he
sees petrels about, and is not quite sure that
they do not in some way -cause the tempest.
When'the bird is on the outlook for its prey,
it seems to walk on the water. Hence the sea-
men of olden time, in allusion to the apostle
Peter's walking on the water, called the bird
petrel, from the Latin Petrellus, "Little Peter."
So far from the sailor being superstitious as
to the capture of another kind of petrel, the
Cape pigeon, which is of a black-and-white
color, arid about the size of a tame pigeon, I
have known Jack to take a hand occasionally
in capturing them, as a bit of recreation during
a dog-watch. In southern latitudes the Cape
pigeons follow a ship in thousands. The method
of catching them is peculiar. A common bottle-
cork is tied to the end of a long piece-of thread,
and trailed astern so that the cork touches the
water. This gives the required tautness to the
thread. As the birds fly in clouds from side to
sid6 astern, some of them constantly strike the
thread with their wings, and the resistance is
enough to turn them over it, when the thread is
wrapped round the wing, and the bird is hauled
on board. In this manner I have seen hun-
dreds caught in a day.
On one occasion a clipper ship, carrying pas-
sengers to India, captured these little Cape

pigeons by hundreds, and the surgeon by some
mischance succeeded in entangling a stormy
Now the doctor was an enthusiastic natural-
ist, and what is to the sailors known as a
"land-lubber," that is, he was on his first voy-
age. The doctor at once took the specimen to
his cabin, and he made preparations to skin and
preserve it. In hot haste a deputation of sea-
men, headed by the old gray-haired sailmaker,
came aft with a request that the petrel be set at
liberty, saying that otherwise the ship and all
on board would surely suffer. The doctor,
somewhat surprised, intended to set the bird
free, but his enthusiasm as a naturalist prevailed
over the superstitious warning, and when the
sailors had disappeared, the bird was added to
his collection. The fact soon became known
forward among the men, and the doctor was
regarded with black looks by the crew for the
remainder of the voyage.
In the course of time the good ship anchored
in the Hugl River, and that day, at dinner, the
doctor suddenly died.
There was a gathering of the sailors round
the windlass that dog-watch, and the doctor's
sudden death was attributed, by the supersti-
tious sailors, to his slaughter of the stormy
Though the petrel is swift, the frigate-bird is
far swifter. Seamen generally believe that the
frigate-bird can start at daybreak, with the
trade-winds from' the coast of Africa, and roost
the same night upon the American shore.
Whether this is a fact has not yet been con-
clusively determined; but it is certain that this
bird is the swiftest of winged creatures, and is
able to fly, under favorable conditions, two
hundred miles an hour.
The stormy petrel, in proportion to its size,
has immense wing-power, for it is the smallest
web-footed bird. It belongs to every sea, and,


though seemingly so frail, breasts the utmost
fury of the gale, skimming with incredible velo-
city the trough of the waves andgliding rapidly
over their crests. It does not make a practice

flocks, sleep upon the water at night. Off the
Cape of Good Hope, on bright moonlight
nights, when the weather would permit, I have
seen through a strong night-glass dozens of the

of alighting on the water, and seldom rises
higher than eight or ten feet above the surface.
I have known them to perch all night on the
extreme end of the flying-jib boom, keeping up
a constant low musical whistle, seemingly an
accompaniment to the noisy waters foaming
and eddying around the cutwater. Petrels, in

sleeping petrels. pass directly under the bows
of the ship. They would "bob up serenely"
astern in the glittering wake with a plaintive
whistle, swim a few.yards, and with a prelimi-
nary flutter of wings and feathers, settle down
to enjoy again the slumbers that had so rudely
been disturbed.



By E. W. W.

FR -. 2 WHEN little Miss Moffit was
frightened away from her
Stuffit by the great big black
~pider, the chances are that
the spider was just as willing
to run away as was Miss
S Moffit. The average spider
is very fond of flies, but it
would 'hardly attack Miss
Moffit unless she struck out
The fact is, spiders, are
rather ill-used; perhaps the
verses about the spider and
the fly, which begin with
the well-known invitation
to "walk into my parlor," are responsible for
a good deal of this feeling. Nobody is down on
a frog because he sits on a lily-pad (which he
did not make) and catches flies with his streak-
of-lightning tongue; but the spider who works
hard to build a web in which to catch its prey
is generally held to be a rascal.
A spider's web is a very curious and beautiful
thing. The spinning-organs are tiny tubes, and
the threads are a white sticky liquid which hard-
ens at once, as it is forced out. When the spi-
der begins to make a thread, it presses the end
of its tubes against some object to which the
liquid sticks. Then it moves away, and the
thread is formed,-just as you form a rope
when you pull molasses candy. Different kinds
of spiders make different kinds of webs.
The gossamer, or spider-silk, is useful to the
owner in various ways. It may be a rope to
swing by when the spider wishes to drop from
a great height without hurting itself. One can
build a "flying-bridge" of it, and another can
almost "fly," that is, be so buoyed up in the
air and wafted along by the breeze that it
seems to fly. Astronomers have found it use-
ful too, for it takes the place of a wire in some
*The illustrations are from "The Century Dictionary."

of their most delicate observations, where even
the finest wire would be too coarse.
The "cross-spider" shown in one of these
pictures is so called on account of the white
cross on its body:
the name has no-
thing to do with
its disposition.
There is a spi-
der that spins a
web under water,
but this is for a nest
and not for a net
in which to catch
other insects, as
are most spiders'
webs. The nest is
made on the prin-
ciple of a diving- CROSS-SPIDER, NATURAL SIZE.
bell; and in order
to get air for its home, the spider carries down
a bubble at a time, and sets it free beneath the
bell. Other spiders live in holes in the ground,
and make clever little trap-doors over their nests.
The sting of the tarantula (a name derived
from Taranto, a town of southern Italy), the
most venomous of spiders, was popularly sup-
posed to produce a disease called tarant-
ism," which could be cured only by music or
dancing, and the dance which cured it was called
the "tarantella." You can see the peasants dance
the tarantella now, but without waiting for






CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the i5th 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.


THE Agassiz Association desires to extend to all read-
ers of ST. NICHOLAS a most cordial invitation to visit its
exhibit and headquarters at the Columbian Exposition.
The association has fifteen hundred square feet of space
in the northwest corner (up-stairs) of the Anthropolog-
ical Building. You would hardly expect to find the
chief exhibit, of the voluntary work of the young men
and women of America in a building with so long, a
name, but there it is.
The Anthropological Building is in the extreme south-
east corner of the Fair Grounds, next to the "Power
In the Agassiz Association corner will be collections
of birds, insects, eggs, plants, and minerals, made by
young people in all parts of the United States, and some
specimens sent by young folks in England, New Zea-
land, the Sandwich Islands, and even Russia. There are
also photographs of our local societies in their local
rooms, together with photographs of scenery and of
scientific objects taken by the young men themselves.
There is a group of beavers, not alive, but represented as
at work upon a real beaver-dam. There is also a little
Swiss cottage, reminding us of the early home of Louis
Agassiz, and there are reception-rooms open during the
Fair, where all our friends will find a hearty welcome.
President A. A.

THE Editor, I am very sure, will look charitably upon
the letters which two of the boys of Arthur's Home have
sent to me for approval before mailing, and which I
mail without proposing corrections.
Thomas E- is a little lad from New York city,
whose better nature is rapidly developing under changed
influences. Frederick H- is a little German lad from
Newark, who is having a serious struggle with our lan-
guage. Very respectfully,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: we wish to tell you how much
we Appereciate the kindness of the Fresk Literature
Fund. by sending those beautiful No called ST. NICHOLS
they are interesting in our school studies. I am studying
History and Nature I take particular interest in those two
books and I think my Study of ST. NICHOLS is just as
I was reading yesterday of the Snake-Charmer of Mo-
I have learned an interesting lisson on Snake Charm-
ing. and all so a beautiful pome far in the woods in May,)
Far in the woods-the fresh green woods-in May
There sang a bird, but all it found to say was "Keep it!
keep it! all the merry day.
The bird? I never saw it no not I! I followed, but
it flitted far on high;
And Keep it! keep it "-Echo caught the cry.

I was so glad, as through the woods I went! And
now I think that
"Keep it! keep it! meant
Child, keep each happy though that Heaven has sent."
we wish the F. L. F. and ST. NICHOLS much pros-
perity joined with all my playmats very greatfully yours
May 4th, '93

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : we wish to tell you how much
pleasure we receive from ST. NICHOHUS sent to Aru-
thus Home through the kindness of the Fresh Leterature
Fund and the story are so intresding and rateataion are
so beautiful my self and playmate-can not get tired of
them Just before I begun to write I got intrested- in a
beautiful story in no 7 called how Bert killed a Jagunr
I think it is most beautiful I wish I could -peak more
obout it I wish F. L F and ST NICHOULS much pro- :
perity very greatifully yours THOMAS E-.
May 3 '93

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am sending you a "pi"
for ST. NICHOLAS, which I made from Lowell's "Biglow
Papers." This is the first that I have ever made, so I
suppose that it will not be very good. I have taken ST.
NICHOLAS for a long time, and think it the best paper
that is published. So good-by. I am your little friend,
P. S. Please excuse bad writing, as I am not used to
writing without lines.
Ze rfe awr I alc ti drmeur,-
Rethe uyo ehv ti Ipnai na' laft;
I dtn'o wtna ot og on fdrrue
Athn ym syttnmtee efr ttha.
Ez fer war, I call it murder,-
There you hev it plain an' flat;
I don't want to go no furder
Than my Testyment fer that.
-From Lowell's "Biglow Papers."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Yesterday, as I was going down-
stairs to lunch, I happened.to hear a slight noise in the
library, and, as I knew the family were already at lunch,
I could not think who it was. When I got as far as the
door, I peeped in, and there was my little cousin Jennie
sitting at a table reading as comfortable as ever she could
be, and hot heeding the lunch-bell at all. My brother,
Don, was looking in the book-case for some story-


book. Just then Jennie looked up from the book she
was reading and said:
What does this book mean by the mellow lays' of a
"Why, that 's an egg without any shell on, of course,"
said Don.
This made me burst into a fit of laughter, and when
they came to the door to see who it was, I was down in
the dining-room and at my place at the table. I told the
joke, and we all had a good laugh over it.
A constant reader, MOLLY E-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like your paper so much, that
I must write and tell you so. I've taken you only a year
and a half, but am always very much interested in your
Pau is rather a pretty little town, and interesting to
visitors. The castle is, of course, the great point of
interest. The interior is n't very pretty, and one sees
only a very small part of it. There 's the room where
Henry IV. was born, and his tortoise-shell cradle, which
is very funny, and does n't look like a very comfortable
bed for a royal child. One can also visit the house where
he was brought up, but we 've never been there. It
seems it is just as it used to be.
People play golf a great deal here, and every one is
wild over it. There are ladies' and men's links, and the
ground where they are is beautiful. It is near the river,
so it's rather swampy and not very safe in wet weather.
It is so warm here that it really feels much more like
summer than winter.
I have made two of those wish-bone penwipers you told
about in your November number, and the last I dressed
as a coachman. I made a top hat for him, which I
painted so that it shone very bright, and I gave him a
little whip. It was great fun making him. I think those
penwipers are a very good idea.
We are four girls in this family, and all love to read
and work. We have fine times at Christmas, when
we begin our presents. I 'm the youngest of the four,
and fifteen, which does n't seem so very young, but
still I don't feel at all like most girls about growing up.
I 'd much rather go back a little. It's much more fun to
be young and be able to run round, and play, and do as
one likes. I love toys still- at least, some toys. Wehave
a little theater our sister made for us that's great fun.
We have little dolls about five or six inches high, that
we dress up and make act. We have a screen all round
the theater to hide us so that it looks as if the dolls were
moving and talking alone. My sister paints the scenery,
and altogether it's fine fun. We have little footlights,
and it looks really like a tiny little theater. We ride,
play golf and tennis, and when it's bad weather have
plenty to do indoors. Your admiring reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for seven
years, yet have never written you before. I commenced
taking you with the first chapter of" Little Lord Faun-
tleroy." We take several magazines, but I like ST.
Post Falls is not a very large town. It is situated at.
the foot of a mountain, near what used to be an Indian
reservation. But we seldom see any Indians. We are
surrounded by mountains,.and have beautiful scenery,
This has been such a long winter that I 'm afraid the
bears will come right into town this summer, they will be
so hungry. Last summer there were several seen near
here. Your constant reader, ROSSIE C- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eight years
old. My aunt gave you to me as a Christmas present.. I
enjoy you very much. I am very much interested in the
My father is a missionary. I was born in Rangoon,
Burma. But you must not think that I am a Burmese
because I was born in Burma. I am not; I am an
American. I have one sister in America, and two sisters
here, and one brother. Your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Lawrence, Kansas,
but we (mama and I), are spending a few months here in
New Orleans and I like this city very much.

My ST. NICHOLAS is sent to me every month from
home, and I enjoy reading it so much. I have taken
you for five years; you are a Christmas present every
year from my dear grandma.
The story of "Lady Jane" I liked better than any of
the others, and I have been so interested here in visiting
the scenes of her life. I have seen Good Children's
street, where Lady Jane lived, and I saw Mardi Gras,
and thought of the Mardi Gras when she was lost. I
have passed several times the Orphans' Home" where
she was cared for, and the statue of Mother Margaret.
I have a Victor safety bicycle which I brought with
me, and I enjoy riding in this lovely weather so much.
This whole city is a perfect bower of roses, jasmine,
and many other flowers. The magnolias are just be-
ginning to bloom now. From your devoted reader,

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been given me
every year for a long time, as a Christmas present, and
I am very fond of you.
Not long ago we had a fire, and it burned up all my
beautiful books. I had a great many of them. In one
of your numbers there was a letter from some one in
Virginia, I think, who told the story of Captain Sam
Dewey, how he cut off the figurehead of the ship Con-
stitution" many years ago. NMy rntler has a portrait
of Captain Dewey, and he is very handsome. My mother
thinks he must have been, when painted, about thirty years
old. My aunt has a facsimile of the famous diamond, too;
it is made of glass, and is as the diamond was uncut.
I am fourteen years old, and live on a ranch on the
banks of Methow River; it is a very beautiful river,
and we have fine hunting--deer, bears, goats, sheep,
coyotes, small game, birds, and fishing.
We had the largest store in the valley, but it was
burned down; now we have. the post-office.
I have a beautiful Indian pony, and I ride him every
day. His name is Goat," and he is very gentle, and I
am very fond of him. So good-by for this time.
I am your constant reader, ANNA F. B. G- .

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Jane T. B., Robert
B. B., Jr., Karl K. B., Sheila B., Mary N. McD., Lucy
L. V., Edith G. V. J., Melvil W., Lorraine R., S. F. W.,
Daisy B., Mary St. John W., Virginia S., Edith C., Clif-
ford C., Robert T. R., Halbert M. S., Rose Bell G., L.
H. K., Margaret C. P., E. V. B., Alice E. T., Ruth W.
C., May I., May W., Fanny G. T., May W. and Vir-
ginia F., and Leslie A. F.



CONNECTED RHOMBOIDS. I. I. Mease. 2. Hinge. 3. Tarry. WORD-BUILDING. I. A, an, ran, nard, drain, daring, darting,
4. Pesos.. 5. Tenor. II. x. Smalt. 2. Ideal. 3. Dames. 4. Lines. treading, retarding. II. I, in, gin, gain, grain, rating, prating,
5. Stair. III. i. Rowen. 2. Raved. 3. Newer...4. Relay. 5. Leper. tramping, ptarmigan.
IV. i. Ratel. 2. Tomes. 3. Dimes. 4. Rural. 5. Remit. N.: L H,.-.-.- .:L Centrals, autograph; from I to 2, edges;
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "'They well may fear fate who have any 3 tc 4, legIl L r.-'.-v. .r: x. rat. 2. flute. 3. extol. 4. doe. 5. g.
inlirmnry n :.1 p.urp.:-.: -r .um Lbt [he man that rests on what he is has 6. are. 7. leads. 8. happy. 9. shy.
a destiny." DIAMONDS. I. I. S. Pat. 3. Pours. 4. Saurian. 5. Triad.
PI. I have closed my t.:..:.a ar.l hiide-. my slate, 6. Sad. 7. N. II. r. P. 2. Are. 3. Amort. 4. Program. 5. Error.
And thrown my :i-t.:hel i.:r-.:-i ih. gate. 6. Tar. 7. M. III. I. A. 2. Ape; 3..Anona. 4. Apostil. 5. Enter.
My school is out for a season of rest, 6. Air. 7. L.
And now for the school-room I love the best. A BRITISH JACK. From I to 6, drugget; 2 to 7, gauntlet; 3 to 8,
school-room lies on the meadow wide, rangers; to 3, dangler; 4 to 5, grating; 6 to 8, turtles; i to 8,
My school-room lies on the meadow wide, ditties; 6 to 3, tattler. '
Where under the clover the sunbeams hide,
Where he long ve cling the moss ars, ZIGZAG. "The Laughing philosopher Cross-words: x Thor.
And the daisies twinkle like fallen stars. 2a. thud. 3. crEw. 4. fueL. 5. grAb. 6. hUge. 7. Gulp. 8. cHat.
9. emIt. io. plaN. xI. siGn. ir uPon. 13. Hilt. 14. mild. xS.caLk.
WORD-SQUARES. I. r. Sore. 2; Oral. 3. Rail. 4. Ella. II. 16. argO. r7. caSk. 18. fOol. 9r. Plum; 2o. cHum. r.; grEw.
i. Bass. 2. Area. 3. Seat. .4. Sate. 22. beaR.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 15th, from Everett M. Hawley-G. B. Dyer-
Josephine Sherwood Ida Carleton Thallon -" The McG.'s"- Helen C. McCleary- Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.-Jo and I-A. H.
R. and M. G. R.-Rosalie Bloomingdale-A., H., and R.- E. M. G.- Mama and Jamie- Gail Raymond-" Maine and Minnesota"-
Paul Reese C. W. Brown L. O. E.- Jessie Chapman -" Uncle Mung "- "Leather-stocking"- Arthur Barnard--S. O. Hawkins -
Blanche and Fred- Maud and Dudley Banks-" Suse."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 15th, from Jack and Emma Schmitt, i-" Broncho
Harry," i-Ernest W. Tyler, --Annie C. Gregory, --Florence B. Barrett, --Geo. McCloskey, I-J-:.'. Me'.:h.ar., x--Helen
Rogers, 4-S. A. G., i- Mary B. Lewis, I--Edward N. Teall, i--Jennie H. Wiles, x- Hilda A. Weber, -- Richard V. Pell, -
"The Peterkins," 5- Henry Caingues, Maude E. Palmer, 7 Mabel E. A., Philip P. Taylor, i Virginia J. Srhith, 2 -Florence
Smith, r-E. M. B., i Helen Patten, --Edith H. Smith, i -Aimee M. Riidiger, i -Florence ?.:.-'* r. a -I C N., x--MaryS.
Dutcher, x- Alfred M. Sedden, --Annie Riley, I-"Old Riddler," --Maurice Tennant, i E.J.lh C-.:.1-irnh. --L. H. K., r-
John M. Anderson, --Vincent Beede, 3--Welford P. Saroni, I -Geo. S. Seymour, 3-"Florr.ce, i- E b- .tLh McConnell, i-
Melville Hunnewell, 2 M. J. Philbin, 3- Anna M. Granger, Andover, Mass., x-Hubert L. Bingay, 7 Isabelle R. Mc-
Curdy, -" The Wise Five," 7- Howard S. Simpson, 2- Bessie R. Crocker, 6 Elinor Barras, 2-" Cam and Reagh," 6- G. I. and
M. M. I., 4 -"Three Blind Mice," 4- Laura M. Zinser, 4 -" We Girls," 5 Horace E. H., I -Arendt, i.


THE problem is to change one given word to another
given word, by altering one letter at a time, each altera-
tion making a new word, the number of letters being al-
ways the same, and the letters remaining always in the
same order. Example: Change lamp to fire in four
moves. Answer: lamp, lame, fame, fare, fire.
In the accompanying picture, change GOAT to CART in
four moves. Each change is shown in the illustration.


NI gishinn leub het stear dwil
Slodfun reh epsalt raif;
Het scatmile, prigchunea, skese
Ot scalp dan sisk eht rai;
Het trilbanil pyppo stunlaf ehr hade
Stidam eht gripnine ganir,
Dan sadd ehr civeo ot wells eht gons
Hatt sugaut's heer ganai.


MY primals and finals each name a famous poet.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. The wooden lin-
ing or panels on the sides of an apartment. 2. A popu-
lar oration. 3. A cut. 4. A million millions. 5. Having
the top too heavy for the lower part. 6. Examines. 7. A
fabulous region in the interior of South America, sup-
posed to abound in gold and precious stones. 8. The
name given to the three days which immediately precede
Ascension Day. "ZUAR."


MY central letters, reading downward, spell a portion
of nearly every book.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Specimens. 2. A spray. 3. To
ask earnestly for. 4. In sufficient. 5. A hobby. 6. One
of the numerous small eyes which make up the com-
pound eyes of insects. 7. A supreme monarch.
L. W.



c~ u ~ ~ C~Q~~bPB~ B--~( I< Ii- ----



I .. 2

3 4

6. 7

8 9

/ --' UPPER SQUARE (I to 2, etc.):
I. Affection. 2. Unobstructed. 3.
To sell. 4. Extremities.
SIDE SQUARE (3 to 6, etc.): I. Terminates. 2. Cleanly.
3. To have courage. 4. To boil slowly.
LOWER SQUARE (6 to 7, etc.): I. To seethe. 2. A
stiff hat. 3. Otherwise. 4. A period of time. From
4 to 7, confusion. H. W. E.

I ...... 2 .

3 4

7 8

I. FROM I to 2, a wild animal; from I to 3, freedom
from occupation or business; from 2 to 4, parted; from
3 to 4, developed; from 5 to 6, to set forth; from 5 to 7,
talk intended to deceive; from 6 to 8, quavered; from
7 to 8, lowered; from I to 5, a noose; from 2 to 6, a
slight depression; from 4 to 8, an action; from 3 to 7,
an Arabian ruler. B. B.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag, be-
ginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell one of the
chief public monuments of Paris.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A Spartan serf. 2. A punctua-
tion mark. 3. Detested. 4. Temples. 5. To discipline.
6. To pass rapidly and easily. 7. To welcome. 8. The
religion of the Mohammedans. 9. To tincture deeply.

10. To do away with. Ix. To find fault without good
reason. 12. A wood-nymph. 13. Faithful to a cause or
principle. 14. To draw off by degrees. 5. The invisi-
ble world. 16. To pretend. 17. Ill-will or hatred
toward another. L. w.


I. A VOWEL. 2. A verb. 3. To garrison. 4. Staple.
5. Pertaining to the morning. 6. One of the occupants
of an asylum. 7. Painted with vermilion. 8. Familiar.
9. Hinted. 10. To threaten. "XELIS."


* *I *
* *
* K* *

SEVEN-LETTER DIAMOND: I. A letter from princes.
2. A kind of roof. 3. A masculine name. 4. Sea-rob-
bers. 5. An ecclesiastical plate. 6. Those whom Kings-
ley says must work." 7. A letter from princes.
princes. 2. A masculine name. 3. Angry. 4. Con-
sumed. 5. A letter from princes.
name. 2. An animal. 3. The goddess of Revenge.
the diagram). Across: I. An instrument of war.
2. Destroyed. 3. A number. Downward: I. A rodent.
2. Consumed. 3. Adults. FRANK SNELLING.


ALL the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below
another, in the order given, one of the rows of letters,
reading downward, will spell the name of a French
CROSS-WORDS: I. A place where instruments of war
are deposited for safe-keeping. 2. Imagines. 3. Hasty
departure. 4. A near relative. 5. To take shelter. 6. A
fall of rain of short duration. 7. Something to make
light of. 8. A protection. 9. Large scissors. Io. A
margin. "ODD FISH."

I. A FASTENER. 2. According to law. 3. Active. 4. An
island in the Mediterranean. 5. Excuses.
I. A garment. 2. An imaginary monster. 3. Seg-
ments of circles. 4. Trial. ZUAR and M. H. N.


~-- ~

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