Front Cover
 A careful little maid
 A fairy godmother
 Towed by an iceberg
 A valentine
 Recollections of the wild life
 Snow bird times
 A skater's stratagem
 The Dutch companie
 Benjamin Franklin
 Good neighbors
 The quadrupeds of North Americ...
 The monkeys of North America
 Tom Sawyer abroad
 A musical neighborhood
 Toinette's Philip
 The merry-go-round afloat
 The dead-letter office
 Little Santa Claus
 Which shall it be
 Through the scissors
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00279
 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: VID00279
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 290
    A careful little maid
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
    A fairy godmother
        Page 303
    Towed by an iceberg
        Page 304
    A valentine
        Page 305
    Recollections of the wild life
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
    Snow bird times
        Page 309
    A skater's stratagem
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
    The Dutch companie
        Page 314
        Page 315
    Benjamin Franklin
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
        Page 324
    Good neighbors
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
    The quadrupeds of North America
        Page 332
    The monkeys of North America
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
        Page 345
        Page 346
        Page 347
    Tom Sawyer abroad
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
        Page 351
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
    A musical neighborhood
        Page 357
    Toinette's Philip
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    The merry-go-round afloat
        Page 366
    The dead-letter office
        Page 367
        Page 368
        Page 369
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
    Little Santa Claus
        Page 374
        Page 375
    Which shall it be
        Page 376
        Page 377
    Through the scissors
        Page 378
        Page 379
    The letter-box
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
    The riddle-box
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


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No. 4.

Copyright, 1894, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.



THE people say in Dimpledell,-
They 've known her from a baby,-
There 's not a child behaves as well
As little Prudence Maybe.
When anybody looks at her
She curtsies most precisely;
Her aunt, Miss Lucy Lavender,
Has brought her up so nicely.

This Dimpledell in Dorset lies,
A village like a toy one.
Its tiled roofs rise neathh dappled skies
Whose light showers don't annoy one.
'T is clean and neat, and green and sweet
The country lanes about it;
And Prudence dwells in Primrose Street-
Inquire there if you doubt it.

She is so careful, she will say,-
Lest she should fib, though blindly,-
"Aunt Lucy 's very well to-day,
Perhaps-I thank you kindly!"
"Aunt buys-I am not certain, quite-
Cream-cheese of Farmer Acres."
"I think the turning to the right
Will bring you to the baker's."

She takes the tea-cup from the shelf--
The big best cup-and fills it;
And brings the parson's tea herself,
And never, never spills it.
The parson holds it on his knee,
And sips it at his leisure:
"A careful little maid," says he.
Miss Lucy beams with pleasure.

Her slippers ne'er were known to squeak;
Her frills are crisp and snowy;
Her nut-brown hair is meek and sleek
In weather wild and blowy.
The other children hear the praise-
If cross or careless they be-
Of all the prim and pretty ways
Of little Prudence Maybe.

The girls whose games she does not share
Unkind opinions bandy:
She 's made of china, some declare;
And some, of sugar-candy.
Dear little heart! Should she confess
She 's sometimes rather lonely,
This very pink of perfectness,
Aunt Lucy's one-and-only.



I 4,E ft0

WHEN Mowgli, as you know, left Mother
Wolf's cave after the fight with the Pack at
the Council Rock, he went down to the plowed
lands where the villagers lived; but he would
not stop there because it was too near to the
jungle, and he knew that he had made at least
one bad enemy at the Council. So he hurried
on, keeping to the rough road that ran down
the valley, and followed it at a steady jog-trot
for nearly twenty miles, till he came to a new
country. The valley opened out into a great
plain dotted over with rocks and cut up by ra-
vines. At one end stood a little village, and
at the other the thick jungle came down in a
sweep to the grazing-grounds, and stopped there
as though it had been cut off with a hoe. All
over the plain, cattle and buffaloes were graz-
ing; and when the little boys in charge of the
herds saw Mowgli they shouted and ran away,
and the yellow pariah dogs that hang about
every Indian village barked at him. Mowgli
walked on, for he was feeling hungry; and
when he came to the village gate he saw the
big thornbush that was drawn up before the
gate at twilight, pushed to one side.
"Umph!" he said, for he had come across
more than one such barricade in his night
rambles after things to eat. So men are afraid
of the People of the Jungle here also." He sat


down by the gate; :
and when a man
came out he stood
up, and opened his mouth to show that he
wanted food. The man stared, and ran back
up the one street of the village shouting for
the priest, who was a big, fat man dressed
in white, with a red and yellow mark on
his forehead. The priest came to the gate,
and with him at least a hundred people, who
stared and talked and shouted and pointed at
"They have no manners, these men folk,"
said Mowgli to himself. Only the Gray Ape
would behave as they do."
So he threw back his long hair and frowned
at the crowd.
"What is there to be afraid of?" said the
priest. "Look at the marks on his arms and
legs. They are the bites of wolves. He is only
a wolf-child run away from the jungle."
Of course, in playing together, the cubs had
often nipped Mowgli harder than they intended,
and there were white scars all over his arms
and legs. But he would have been the last
person in the world to call them bites, for he
knew what real biting meant.
"Arre! arrde" said two or three women to-
gether. "To be bitten by wolves, poor child!

, '1'


He is a handsome boy. He has eyes like red man's talk
fire. By my honor, Messua, he is not unlike thy a man wou
boy that was taken by the tiger." learn their
"Let me look," said a woman with heavy It was n
copper rings on her wrists and ankles; and she he was witl
stared at Mowgli under the palm of her hand. of bucks ii
" Indeed, he is not. He is thinner, but he has little wild
the very look of my boy." word, Mow
The priest was a clever man, and he knew and before
that Messua was wife to the richest villager in nearly ever
the place. So he looked up at the sky for a There w
minute, and said solemnly: "What the jungle Mowgli wa
has taken the jungle has restored. Take the that looked
boy into thy house, my sister, and forget not to and when t
honor the priest who sees so far into the lives the window
of men." sua's husb
By the bull that bought me," said Mowgli till now ha
to himself, all this talking is like another sent in the
looking-over by the Pack! Well, if I am a away."
man, a man I must become." So Mow
The crowd parted as the woman beckoned the edge of
Mowgli to her hut, where there was a red lac- his eyes a
quered bedstead, a great earthen grain-chest chin.
with quaint raised patterns on it, half a dozen "Phew!
cooking-pots, an image of a Hindu god in a eldest of
little alcove, and on the wall a real looking- poor rewar
glass such as they sell at the country fairs for Thou smell
eight cents. together lik
She gave him a long draught of milk (this their; I bril
was new to Mowgli, but it tasted good), and "Are all
some bread, and then she laid her hand on hugging hi
his head and looked into his eyes; for she "All ex
thought perhaps that he might be her real son with the I
come back from the jungle where the tiger had Khan has
taken him. So she said, "Nathoo, O Nathoo!" coat grows
Mowgli did not show that he knew the name. he returns
" Dost thou not remember the day when I gave in the Wair
thee thy new shoes ? "There
She touched his foot, and it was almost as made a lit
hard as horn. always goo
No," she said, sorrowfully; those feet have with new tl
never worn shoes, but thou art very like Nathoo, the news al
and thou shalt be my son." "Thou m
Mowgli was uneasy, because he had never Men will n
been under a roof before; but as he looked at Brother, an
the thatch, he saw that he could tear it out any Never.
time if he wanted to get away, and that the and all in
window had no fastenings. remember
"What is the good of a man," he said to Pack."
himself at last, "if he does not understand And th

? Now I am as silly and dumb as
Id be with us in the jungle. I must
ot for fun that he had learned while
h the wolves to imitate the challenge
i the jungle and the grunt of the
pig. So, as soon as Messua said a
gli would imitate it almost perfectly,
dark he had learned the name of
rything in the hut.
as a difficulty at bedtime, because
.s not going to sleep under anything
' so like a panther-trap as that hut,
:hey shut the door he went through
". "Give him his will," said Mes-
and. Remember he can never
Lve slept on a bed. If he is indeed
place of our son, he will not run

gli slept in some long clean grass at
f the field, but before he had closed
soft gray nose poked him under the

" said Gray Brother (he was the
Mother Wolf's cubs). "This is a
*d for following thee twenty miles.
lest of wood-smoke and cattle al-
:e a man already. Wake, Little Bro-
ng news."
Swell in the jungle ?" said Mowgli,
cept the wolves that were burned
Ied Flower. Now listen. Shere
gone away, to hunt far off till his
again, for he is badly singed. When
he swears that he will lay thy bones
igunga River."
are two words to that. I also have
tie promise. But to hear news is
d. I am tired to-night,- very tired
rings, Gray Brother,- but bring me
tilt not forget that thou art a wolf?
ot make thee forget? asked Gray
I will remember that I love thee
our cave; but also I will always
that I have been cast out of the

at thou mayst be cast out of an-


other. Men are only men, Little Brother, and
their talk is like the talk of frogs in a pond.
When I come down here again, I will wait for
thee in the bamboos at the edge of the grazing-
For three months after that night Mowgli
hardly ever left the village gate; he was so busy
learning the ways and customs of men. First
he had to wear a cloth round him, which an-
noyed him horribly; and then he had to learn
about money, which he did not in the least
understand, and about plowing, which he did
not see the use of. Then the little children in
the village made him very angry. Luckily, the
Law of the Jungle had taught him to keep his
temper, for in the jungle life and food depend
on keeping your temper; but when the chil-
dren made fun of him because he would not
play games or fly kites, or because he mispro-
nounced some word, only the knowledge that
it was unsportsmanlike to kill little naked cubs
kept him from picking them up and tearing
them in two.
He did not know his own strength in the
least. In the jungle he knew he was weak as
compared with the beasts, but in the village
people said that he was as strong as a bull.
He certainly had no notion of what fear was,
for when the village priest told him that the
god in the temple would be angry with him if
he ate the priests' mangoes, he picked up the
image, brought it over to the priest's house,
and asked the priest to make the god angry
and he would be happy to fight him. It was a
horrible scandal, but the priest hushed it up,
and Messua's husband paid nearly seventy cents
in silver to comfort the god.
And Mowgli had not the faintest idea of the
difference that caste makes between man and
man. When the potter's donkey slipped in the
clay-pit, Mowgli hauled it out by the tail, and
helped to stack the pots for their journey to the
market at Khanhiwara. That was very shock-
ing, for the potter is a low-caste man, and his
donkey is worse. When the priest scolded
him, Mowgli threatened to put him on the
donkey, too; and the priest told Messua's hus-
band that Mowgli had better be set to work as
soon as possible; and the village head-man told
Mowgli that he would have to go out with the

buffaloes next day, and herd them while they
No one was more pleased than Mowgli; and
that night, because he had been appointed a
servant of the village, as it were, he went off
to a circle that met every evening on a plat-
form of masonry under a great fig-tree. It was
the village club, and the head-man and the
watchman and the barber (who knew all the
gossip of the village), and old Buldeo, the village
hunter, who had an old army musket, met and
smoked. The monkeys sat and talked in the
upper branches, and there was a hole under
the platform where a cobra lived, and he had
his little platter of milk every night because he
was sacred; and the old men sat around the
tree and talked, and pulled at the big zhuas
(the water-pipes) till far into the night. They
told wonderful tales of gods and men and
ghosts; and Buldeo told even more wonderful
ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle, till the
eyes of the children sitting outside the circle
hung out of their heads. Most of the tales
were about animals, for the jungle was always
at their door. The deer and the wild pig
grubbed up their crops, and now and again the
tiger carried off a man at twilight, within sight
of the village gates, as he came back from
Mowgli, who knew something about the ways
of the jungle people, had to cover his face with
his hair not to show that he was laughing. But
Buldeo, the musket across his knees, climbed
on from one wonderful story to another, and
Mowgli's shoulders shook.
Buldeo was explaining how the tiger that had
carried away Messua's son was a ghost tiger,
and his body was inhabited by the ghost of a
wicked, old money-lender, who had died some
years ago. "And I know that this is true," he
said, because Purun Dasrs always limped from
the blow that he got in a riot when his account-
books were burned, and the tiger that I speak
of he limps, too, for the tracks of his feet are
True, true!-that must be the truth!" said
all the graybeards together.
"Are all these tales such cobwebs and moon-
talk ? said Mowgli, suddenly. "That tiger
limps because he was born lame, as every one


knows. To talk of the soul of a money-lender
in a beast that never had the courage of a jackal
is child's talk!"
Buldeo was speechless with surprise for a
moment, and the head-man stared.
Oho! It is the jungle-brat, is it?" said
Buldeo. If thou art so wise, better bring

graze in the early morning, and bring them
back at night, and the cattle that would tram-
ple a white man to death submit to be banged,
and bullied, and shouted at by children who
hardly come up to their noses. So long as the
boys keep with the herds they are absolutely
safe, for not even the tiger will charge a mob


his hide to Khanhiwara, for the Government
has set a hundred rupees ($30) on' his life. Bet-
ter still, be quiet when thy elders speak."
Mowgli got up to go. "All the evening I
have lain here listening," he called back, over
his shoulder, and, except once or twice, Bul-
deo has not said one word of truth concerning
the jungle, which is at his very doors. How
then shall I believe the tales of ghosts, and
gods, and goblins which ye think ye have seen ?"
It is full time that boy went to herding,"
said the head-man of the village, while Buldeo
puffed and snorted at Mowgli's insolence; for
as a rule native children are much more re-
spectful to their elders than white children.
The custom of most Indian villages is for a
few boys to take the cattle and buffaloes out to

of cattle. But if they straggle, to pick flowers
or hunt lizards, they may be carried off.
Mowgli went through the village street next
dawn sitting on the back of Rama, the great
herd bull, and the slaty-blue buffaloes, with their
long, backward-sweeping horns and savage eyes,
rose out of their byres, one by one, and followed
him. Mowgli made it very clear to his com-
panions that he was the master. He banged
the buffaloes with a long, polished bamboo, and
told the boys to graze the cattle by themselves
while he went on with the buffaloes, and to be
very careful not to stray away from the herd.
An Indian grazing-ground is all rocks, and
scrub, and tussocks, and little ravines, among
which the herds scatter and disappear. The
buffaloes generally keep to the pools and muddy


places, where they lie wallowing or basking in
the warm mud for hours. Mowgli drove them
on to the edge of the plain where the Waingunga
River came out of the jungle; then he dropped
from Rama's neck, trotted off to a bamboo
clump and found Gray Brother. "Ah," said
Gray Brother, I have waited here very many
days. What is the meaning of this cattle-herd-
ing work ?"
It is an order," said Mowgli; I am a vil-
lage herd now. What news of Shere Khan?"

the ravine by the dEdk-tree in the center of the
plain. We need not walk into Shere Khan's
Then Mowgli picked out a shady place, and
lay down and slept while the buffaloes grazed
round him. Herding in India is one of the
laziest things in the world. The cattle move
and crunch, crunch, and lie down, and move on
again, and they do not even low. They only
grunt, and the buffaloes very seldom say any-
thing. You can see them lie down in the


He has come back to these hills, and has
waited here a long time for thee. Now he has
gone off again, for the game is scarce. But he
surely means to kill thee."
"Very good," said Mowgli. So long as he
is away do thou or one of the four sit on that
rock, where I can see thee as I come out of the
village. When he comes back, wait for me in

muddy pools one after another, and work their
way in the mud till only their noses and
staring china-blue eyes show above the surface,
and there they lie like logs. The sun makes
the rocks dance in the heat, and you hear one
kite (never any more) whistling, almost out of
sight overhead, and you know that if you died,
or a cow died, that kite would come down like



a bullet, and the next kite miles away would
see him drop and follow, and the next, and the
next, and almost before you were dead there
would be a score of them come out of nowhere.
Then you sleep and wake and sleep again, and
weave little baskets out of dried grass and put
grasshoppers in them; or catch two praying-
mantises and make them fight; or string a
necklace of red and black jungle-nuts; or watch
a lizard basking on a rock, or a snake hunting a
frog near the wallows. Then you sing end-
less songs with odd native quavers at the end
of them, and the day seems longer than most
people's whole lives; and perhaps you make a
mud castle with mud figures of men and horses
and buffaloes, and put reeds into the men's
hands, and play that you are a king and they
are your armies, or that they are gods and
you ought to worship them. Then evening
comes and you call, and the buffaloes lumber
up out of the sticky mud with noises like gun-
shots going off one after the other, and you all
string across the gray plain back to the twink-
ling village lights.
Day after day Mowgli would lead the buffa-
loes out in this way, and day after day he would
see Gray Brother's back a mile and a half
away across the plain (that told him Shere
Khan had not come back), and day after day
he would lie on the grass listening to the noises
round him, and dreaming of old days in the
jungle. If Shere Khan had made a false step
with his lame paw up in the jungles by the
Waingunga, Mowgli would have heard him in
those long dead-still mornings.
At last the day came when he did not see
Gray Brother at the signal place, and he
laughed and headed the buffaloes for the ravine
by the dhdk-tree which was all covered with
golden-red flowers. There sat Gray Brother
with every bristle on his back lifted.
He has given two months to throw thee off
thy guard. He crossed the ranges last night with
Tabaqui, hot-foot on thy trail," said the wolf.
Mowgli frowned. I am not afraid of Shere
Khan, but Tabaqui is very cunning," he said.
Have no fear," Gray Brother answered,
licking his lips a little. "I met Tabaqui in
the dawn. Now he is telling all his wisdom to
the kites, but he told me everything before I

broke his back. Shere Khan's plan is to wait
for thee at the village gate this evening-for
thee and for no one else. He is lying up now,
in the big ravine of the Waingunga."
"Has he eaten to-day, or does he hunt
empty ?" said Mowgli, for the answer meant
just life or death to him.
"He killed at dawn,-a pig,-and he has
drunk too. Remember, Shere Khan could
never fast even for the sake of revenge."
"Oh! Fool, fool! What a cub's cub it is!
Eaten and drunk too, has he, and he thinks that
I shall wait till he has slept! Now, where does
he lie up? If there were but ten of us we
might pull him down as he snores. These
buffaloes will not charge unless they wind- him,
and I cannot speak their language. Can we
get behind his track that they may smell it ?"
He swam far down the Waingunga to cut
that off," said Gray Brother.
"Tabaqui told him that, I know. He would
never have thought of it, alone." Mowgli
stood with his finger in his mouth, thinking.
"The big ravine of the Waingunga. That
opens out on the plain not half a mile from
here. I can take the herd round through the
jungle to the head of the ravine and then
sweep down, but he would slink out at the
foot. We must block that end. Gray Bro-
ther, canst thou cut the herd in two for me ? "
"Not I alone-but I have. brought a wise
helper." Gray Brother trotted off and dropped
into a hole. Then there popped up a huge
gray head that Mowgli knew well, and the hot
air was filled with the most desolate cry of
all the jungle-the hunting-howl of a wolf at
"Akela! Akela! said Mowgli, clapping his
hands. "I might have known that thou
wouldst not forget. Cut them in two, Akela.
Keep the cows and calves together, and the
bulls and the plow-buffaloes by themselves."
The two wolves ran in and out of the herd,
which snorted and threw up its head, and sepa-
rated into two clumps. In one the cow buffa-
loes stood and glared and pawed with the
calves in the center, ready if a wolf would
only stay still to charge down and trample
the life out of him. In the other the bulls
and the young bulls snorted and stamped,




but though they looked more angry they were
much less dangerous than the cows, for they
had no calves to protect. No six men could
have divided the herd so neatly.
"What orders? panted Akela. "They are
trying to join again."
Mowgli slipped on to Rama's back. Drive
the bulls away to the left, Akela. Gray Bro-
ther, when we are gone hold the cows together,
and drive them into the foot of the ravine."
"How far?" said Gray Brother, panting
and snapping.
"Till the sides are higher than Shere Khan
can jump," shouted Mowgli. "Hold them
there till we come down." The bulls swept
off as Akela bayed, and Gray Brother stopped
in front of the cows. They charged down on
him, and he ran just before them to the foot
of the ravine, as Akela drove the bulls far away
to the left.
"Well done! Another charge and they are
fairly in. Careful, now-careful, Akela! A
snap too much, and the bulls will charge.
Huya za This is wilder work than driving
black-buck. Didst thou think these creatures
could move so swiftly?" said Mowgli.
I have-have hunted these too in my
time," gasped Akela in the dust. "Shall I
turn them into the jungle?"
"Ay! Turn. Swiftly, turn them. Rama is
mad with rage. Oh, if I could only tell him
what I need of him to-day! "
The bulls were turned to the right this time,
and crashed into the standing thicket. The
other herd-children, watching with the cattle
half a mile away, hurried to the village as fast
as their legs could carry them, crying that the
buffaloes had gone mad and run away. But
Mowgli's plan was simple enough. All he
wanted to do was to make a big circle up
hill and get at the head of the ravine, and then
take the bulls down it and catch Shere Khan
between the bulls and the cows; for he knew
that after a meal and a full drink Shere Khan
would not be in any condition to fight or to
clamber up the sides of the ravine. He began
to soothe the buffaloes now by voice, and Akela
dropped far to the rear, only whimpering once
or twice to hurry the stragglers. It was a
long, long circle, for they did not wish to

get tob near the ravine and give Shere Khan
warning. At last Mowgli rounded up the be-
wildered herd at the head of the ravine on a
grassy patch that sloped steeply down to the
ravine itself. From that height you could see
across the tops of the trees down to the plain
below; but what Mowgli looked at was the
sides of the ravine, and he saw with a great
deal of satisfaction that they were nearly straight
up and down, and the vines and creepers that
hung over them would give no foothold to a
tiger who tried to get out.
Let them breathe, Akela," he said, holding
up his hand. "They have not winded him yet.
Let them breathe. I must tell Shere Khan
that I come."
He put his hands to his mouth and shouted
down the ravine,-it was almost like shouting
down a tunnel,-and the echoes jumped from
rock to rock
After a long time there came back the drawl-
ing, sleepy snarl of a full-fed tiger just wakened.
"Who calls?" said Shere Khan, while a
splendid peacock fluttered up out of the ravine
I, Mowgli. Cattle thief, it is time to come
to the Council Rock! Down-hurry them
down, Akela. Down, Rama, down!"
The herd paused for an instant at the edge
of the slope, but Akela gave tongue in the full
wolf's hunting-yell, and the buffaloes pitched
over one after the other just as steamers shoot
rapids, the sand and stones spurting up round
them. Once started, there was no chance of
stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed
of the ravine Rama had winded Shere Khan
and bellowed.
"Ha! Ha!" said Mowgli, on his back.
"Now thou knowest!" and the torrent of
black horns, foaming muzzles, and staring eyes
tore down the ravine just as boulders go down
in flood time; the weaker buffaloes being shoul-
dered out to the sides of the ravine where they
tore through the creepers. They knew what
the business was before them-the terrible
charge of the buffalo-herd against which no
tiger can hope to stand. Shere Khan heard
the thunder of their feet, picked himself up,
and lumbered down the ravine, looking from
side to side for some way of escape, but the



walls of the ravine were straight and he had to
keep on, heavy with his dinner and his drink,
willing to do anything rather than fight. The
herd splashed through the pool he had just left,
bellowing till the ravine rang. Mowgli heard
an answering bellow from the foot of the ravine,
saw Shere Khan turn (the lame tiger knew if the
worst came to the worst it was better to meet
the bulls than the cows with their calves) and

them, or they will be fighting one another.
Drive them away, Akela. Hai, Rama Hai,
Hail Hail my children! Softly now, softly!
It is all over."
Akela and Gray Brother ran to and fro nip-
ping the buffaloes' legs, and though the herd
wheeled once to charge up the ravine again,
Mowgli managed to turn Rama, and the others
followed him to the wallows.


then Rama tripped, stumbled, and went on
again over something soft, and; with the bulls at
his heels, crashed full into the other herd, while
the weaker buffaloes were whirled clean off
their feet. That charge carried both herds out
into the plain, goring and stamping and snort-
ing. Mowgli watched his time, and slipped off
Rama's neck, laying about him right and left
with his stick.
"Quick, Akela! Break them up. Scatter

Shere Khan needed no more trampling. He
was dead, his lame paw doubled up under him,
and the kites were coming for him already.
"Brothers, that was a dog's death,' said
Mowgli, feeling for the knife that he carried
in a sheath round his neck. "But he would
never have shown fight. His hide will look
well on the Council Rock. We must get to
work swiftly."
A boy trained among men would never have


dreamed of skinning a ten-foot tiger alone, but
Mowgli knew better than any one else how an
animal's skin is fitted on, and how it can be
taken off. But it was hard work at the best,
and Mowgli slashed, and tore, and grunted for
an hour, while the wolves lolled out their
tongues, or came forward and tugged as he
ordered them. Presently a hand fell on his
shoulder, .and looking up he saw Buldeo with
the army musket. The children had told the
village about the buffalo stampede, and Buldeo
went out only too anxious to correct Mowgli for
not taking better care of the herd. The wolves
had dropped out of sight as soon as they saw
the hunter.
What is this folly ?" said Buldeo, angrily.
"To think that thou canst skin a tiger!
Where did thy buffaloes kill him? It is the
Lame Tiger, too, and there is a hundred rupees
on his head! Well, well, we will overlook thy
letting the herd run off, and perhaps I will give
thee one of the rupees of the reward when I
have taken the skin to Khanhiwara." He fum-
bled in his waist-cloth for flint and steel, and
stooped down to singe Shere Khan's whiskers.
Most native hunters singe a tiger's whiskers to
prevent his ghost from haunting them.
Hum! said Mowgli, half to himself, as he
ripped back the skin of a forepaw. So thou
wilt take the hide to Khanhiwara for the reward,
and perhaps give me one rupee ? Now it is my
mind that I need the skin for my own use.
Heh old man, take away that
fire! "
What talk is this to the chief
hunter of the village? Thy
luck and the stupidity of thy
buffaloes have helped thee to
this kill. The tiger has just fed,
or he would have gone twenty
miles by this time. Thou canst
not even skin him properly, lit-
tle beggar brat, and forsooth I,
Buldeo, must be told not to
singe his whiskers! Mowgli, I
will not give thee one anna of
the reward, but only a very big
beating. Leave the carcass."
"By the bull that bought
me," said Mowgli, who was try- ACROSS,

ing to get at the shoulder, "must I stay bab-
bling to an old ape all noon? Here, Akela,
this man plagues me."
Buldeo, who was still stooping over Shere
Khan's head, found himself sprawling on the
grass, with a gray wolf standing over him, while
Mowgli went on skinning as though he were
alone in all India.
"Ye-es," he said between his teeth. Thou
art right, Buldeo. Thou wilt never give me
one anna of the reward. There is an old war
between this Lame Tiger and myself-a very
old war, and-I have won."
To do Buldeo justice, if he had been ten
years younger he would have taken his chance
with Akela had he met the wolf in the woods,
but a wolf who obeyed the orders of a boy
who had private wars with man-eating tigers
was not a common animal. It was sorcery,
magic of the worst kind, thought Buldeo, and
he wondered whether the amulet round his
neck would protect him. He lay as still as still,
expecting every minute to see Mowgli turn into
a tiger, too.
Maharaj! Great King!" he said at last in a
husky whisper.
"Yes," said Mowgli, without turning his
head,,but chuckling a little.
"I am an old man. I did not know that
thou wast anything more than a herd-boy.
May I rise up and go away, or will thy servant
tear me to pieces ? "



1894- "TIGER! TIGER!" 301
Go, and peace go with thee. Only, another lets mean anything, they would cast thee
time do not meddle with my game. Let him out."
go, Akela." "Wolf! Wolf's cub! Go away!" shouted
Buldeo hobbled away to the village as fast as the priest, waving a sprig of the sacred tulsi
he could, looking back over his shoulder in case plant.
Mowgli should change into something with four "Again ? Last time it was because I was a
legs. When he got to
the village he told a tale
of magic, and enchant-
ment, and sorcery that
made the priest look
very grave.
Mowgli went on with
his work, but it was
nearly twilight before he
Now we must hide
the skin and take the
buffaloes home! Help
me to herd them,
The herd rounded up
in the smoky twilight,
and when they were near
the village Mowgli saw
lights, and heard the
conches and bells in
the temple blowing and
banging. Half the vil-
lage seemed to be wait-
ing for him at the
gate. "That is because
I have killed Shere
Khan," he said to him-
self; but a shower of
stones whistled about
lagers shouted: "Sor-
cerer! Wolf's brat! Jungle-demon! Go away! man. This time it is because I am a wolf.
Get hence quickly, or the priest will turn thee Let us go, Akela," said Mowgli.
into a wolf again. Shoot, Buldeo, shoot!" A woman--it was Messua ran across to
The old musket went off and a young buffalo the herd, and cried, Oh, my son, my son!
bellowed with pain. They say thou art a sorcerer who can turn
"More sorcery!" shouted the villagers. "He himself into a beast at will. I do not believe,
can turn bullets. Buldeo, that was tky buffalo!" but go away or they will kill thee. Buldeo
"Now what is this?" said Mowgli, be- says thou art a wizard, but I know thou hast
wildered, as more stones flew. avenged my Nathoo's death."
"'They are not unlike the Pack, these bro- "Come back, Messua!" shouted the crowd.
others of thine," said Akela, sitting down with Come back, or we will stone thee, too."
a grunt. It is in my head that, if bul- Mowgli laughed a little short ugly laugh, for


a stone had hit him in the mouth. "Run
back, Messua. This is one of the foolish tales
they tell under the big tree at dusk. I have at
least paid for thy son's life. Farewell; and run
quickly, for I shall send the herd in as swiftly
as their brickbats come out. I am no wizard,
Messua. Farewell!"
Now, once more, Akela," he cried. Bring
the herd in."
The buffaloes were anxious enough to get to
the village. They hardly needed Akela's yell,
but charged through the gate like a whirlwind,
scattering the crowd right and left.
Keep count! shouted Mowgli scornfully.
"It may be that I have stolen one of them.
Keep count, for I will do your herding no
more. Fare you well, children of men, and
thank Messua that I do not come in with my
wolves and hunt you up and down your
He turned on his heel and walked away with
the Lone Wolf; and as he looked up at the
stars he felt happy. "No more sleeping in
traps for me, Akela," he said. "Let us get
Shere Khan's skin and go away. No; we will
not hurt the village, for the woman Messua was
kind to me."
When the moon rose over the plain, making
it look all milky, the horrified villagers saw
Mowgli, with two wolves at his heels and a
bundle on his head, trotting across at the steady
wolf's trot that eats up the long miles like fire.
Then they banged the temple bells and blew
the conches louder than ever; and Messua
cried, and Buldeo embroidered the story of his
adventures in the jungle, till he ended by saying
that Akela stood up on his hind legs and walked
like a man.
The moon was just going down when Mow-
gli and the two wolves came to the hill of the
Council Rock, and they stopped at Mother
Wolf's cave.
They have cast me out from the Man Pack,
Mother," shouted Mowgli, "but I come with
the hide of Shere Khan to keep my word!"
Mother Wolf walked stiffly from the cave with
the cubs behind her, and her eyes glowed as
she saw the skin.
I told him on that day when he crammed

his head and shoulders into this cave, hunting
for thy life, little frog-I told him that the
hunter would be the hunted. It is well done,"
she said.
Little brother, it is well done," said a deep
voice in the thicket. We were lonely in the
jungle without thee," and Bagheera came run-
ning to Mowgli's bare feet. They clambered
up the Council Rock together, and Mowgli
spread the skin out on the flat stone where
Akela used to sit, and pegged it down with four
slivers of bamboo, and Akela lay down upon it,
and cried the old call to the Council. Look,
look well, O Wolves," exactly as he had cried it
when Mowgli was first brought there.
Ever since Akela had been deposed, the pack
had been without a leader, hunting and fighting
at their own pleasure. But they answered the
call through habit, and some of them were
lame from the traps they had fallen into, and
some limped from shot-wounds, and some were
mangy from eating bad food, and many were
missing; but they came to the Council Rock,
as many as were left of them, and they saw
Shere Khan's striped hide on the rock, and the
huge claws dangling at the end of the empty
dangling feet.
"Look well, O Wolves. Have I kept my
word?" said Mowgli; and the wolves bayed
Yes, and one tattered wolf cried:
Lead us again, O Akela. Lead us again,
O man cub, for we be sick of this lawlessness,
and we would be the Free People once more."
Nay," purred Bagheera, "that may not be.
When ye are full fed, the madness may come
upon you again. Not for nothing are ye called
the Free People. Ye fought for freedom, and
it is yours. Eat it now, 0 Wolves."
"Man Pack and Wolf Pack have cast me
out," said Mowgli. I will hunt alone in the
jungle henceforward."
And we will hunt with thee," said the four
So Mowgli went away and hunted with the
four cubs in the jungle from that day on. Still
he was not always alone, because years after-
ward he became a man and took service and
But that is a story for grown-ups.




OH, dearie me!" one morning sighed our merry little Lou,
"I have n't got a single thing-a single thing to do!
I wish a fairy-godmother would come and talk with me,
And let me wish three wishes; I wonder what they 'd be?

"Well, first,- now let me think a while,-I 'd wish for bags of
1 A hundred million dollars I guess I 'd make them hold.
And then I 'd wish for golden hair, and beautiful blue eyes,
And a real grown-up lover to praise me to the skies;
I 'd wish--oh, yes! to be a queen, and he should be the king,
With courtiers, and trumpeters, and all that sort of thing.
We 'd ride on milk-white palfreys all dressed in gold and green,
And the people everywhere would shout, 'Long live our gracious Queen!'
Oh, would n't it be lovely?" sighed foolish little Lou;
"I wish the fairy-godmother was here, and it was true."

Just then her own real mother called: "Oh, Lulu, child, come here!
I wish you 'd rock the baby a little while, my dear.
He 's dropping off to sleep, you see,-he '11 soon be quiet now.
And then I wish you 'd shell the peas, while Bridget milks the cow.
She says she 's 'clane bewildered' to know which way to turn,
For Sandy 's in the mowing-field, and Nora 's got to churn:
I wish you 'd set the table, and see what you can do
To help us with the little things-that 's mother's daughter Lou!"

Up jumped the little maiden, with a twinkle in her eyes,
And a merry notion in her head both whimsical and wise:
"My mother wished three wishes! Now I shall have the fun
Of being fairy-godmother, and granting every one."

As cheery as a cricket she went about all day,
And out of every little task she made a sort of play,
Until her happy laughter, and the tuneful song she sung
Had sweetened Bridget's temper, and stopped her fretting tongue.
The baby, too, she humored in many a baby whim;
He cried for her at bed-time to go up-stairs with him;
And her mother kissed her fondly when she found her nodding there,
With his chubby fingers tangled in his sister's curly hair.

"You 've been my comfort-daughter this livelong day," she said;
But Lulu hardly understood- the little sleepy-head!
"It was such fun," she murmured, in a dreamy, drowsy way,
"To be a fairy-godmother! I 've had a lovely day."




T' '
'II ~




WHEN the captain of the Norwegian bark
"Wave King sailed for the port of New York,
he expected as a matter of course to meet some
icebergs on the way. He also expected to
engage a tug-boat to tow him into the harbor
if he found the weather at Sandy Hook boister-
ous or the wind too strong against him to sail
in alone; but as for having a present of tow
in the middle of the Atlantic, and free of charge,
that was a piece of good fortune of which he
never dreamed in his most economical mo-
menst. Yet, improbable as it seems, was the
very treat he unexpectedly received.

Everything went very well with the bark until
half through her voyage, when one day the
mate (who was an arctic weather-prophet) re-
ported that ice-fields and icebergs were near.
He knew it, he said, because of the light
loom along the ocean's rim; also from the look
and coldness of the sea-water. A bright look-
out was therefore kept, and sure enough, about
noon a great ice-field, or floe" became visible
in the haze, dead ahead. There it lay right in
their track, and extending as far on each side
as their best telescope was able to make it out.
For several miles on both sides the bark now

I., ''




sailed back and forth, the lookouts searching
for an opening in the beautiful, trembling,
glistening white fields; but none could be
found, although the fair blue water lay tempt-
ingly beyond, in full sight.
Presently the captain noticed that the ice-
field under the pressure of the fresh breeze was
advancing toward them, and he gave orders to
"'bout ship."
As the vessel went about, a large iceberg
was noticed right astern in the light haze, and,
strange to. relate, it also appeared to be coming
toward them. At first this caused the sailors
much uneasiness, for they feared to be caught
between it and the field of ice, which would,
of course, mean the destruction of the bark
and death to all on board.
A little careful steering, however, placed
them safely to one side of the berg, and the
men gathered along the ship's side to watch
the monster as it went majestically by, the
waves dashing high against its weather side as
if in vain endeavor to hold it back, while the
wind blew little drifts of snow from its glisten-
ing, craggy top.
All icebergs float with a much larger pro-
portion of their mass beneath the waves than
above them, and the captain knew that some
strong lower-current was pushing against the
under-water portion of this berg, and urging it
along against the. winds and surface currents.
He wondered what would result when the berg
and ice-field met. Which would gain the mas-
tery? Why, the heavy berg, of course.
Then a bright idea flashed through his mind,

which he instantly began to put in execution
by ordering the steersman to turn the bark and
run her right in behind the berg.
Going as close as he dared to the great ice-
mountain, he ordered the crew to lower a boat
- and take a rope and hitch on to it. This they
did, making fast to a low pinnacle, or foot-hill.
Then sail was shortened to flying-jib and
spanker, just enough to keep her steady and
take some strain off the rope; and lo! the ship
was towing kindly in the wake of the berg,
while all hands awaited developments.
They had not long to wait. Steadily and
surely the ice-mountain bore down on the ice-
field. There came a great crash, and a little
shiver of the berg that could be felt on the tow-
line. Then followed a mighty upheaval of the
edge of the floe as the berg plowed into and
tossed the sparkling masses of ice in air, or
shoved them masterfully -aside.
With bang, and smash, and roar, the mighty
contest went on. But the berg proceeded se-
renely, leaving a broad swath behind in which
the bark rode safely until clear water was once
more reached.
Then, as quickly as possible, the rope was
cast off, all sail set, and a respectful distance
put between the bark and berg, for the captain
feared lest some portion of his icy tow-boat
might fall upon them, or a part, hidden far
beneath the ocean's surface, might break off
and come rushing upward in a cloud of spray,
and, striking his vessel, do him the very damage
from which he had so skilfully preserved her
by taking a tow from the berg.


I 'LL build a house of lollypops
Just suited, Sweetheart, to your taste;
The windows shall be lemon-drops,
The doors shall be of jujube paste-
Heigh-ho, if you '11 be mine!
With peppermints I '11 pave the walks;
A little garden, too, I '11 sow
With seeds that send up sugared stalks
On which the candied violets grow-
Heigh-ho, my Valentine!

Some seats of sassafras I '11 make
Because I know you think it 's nice;
The cushions shall be jelly-cake
Laced all around with lemon-ice-
Heigh-ho, if you '11 be mine!
We '11 have a party every day,
And feast on cream and honeydew;
And though you 're only six, we '11 play
That I am just as young as you-
Heigh-ho, my Valentine!

Anna M. Pratt.

VOL. XXI.-39.




THE Indian boy was a prince of the wilder-
ness. He had but very little work to do during
the period of his boyhood. His principal occu-
pation was the practising of a few simple but
rigid rules in the arts of warfare and the chase.
Aside from this, he was master of his time.
Whatever was required of us boys was
quickly performed; then the field was clear
for our games and plays. There was always
keen competition between us. We felt very
much as our fathers did in hunting and war-
each one strove to excel all the others. It is
true that our savage life was a precarious one,
and full of dreadful catastrophes; however,
this never prevented us from enjoying our sports
to the fullest extent. As we left our tepees in
the morning, we were never sure that our
scalps would not dangle from a pole in the
afternoon It was an uncertain life, to be sure.
Yet we observed that the fawns skipped and
played happily while the gray wolves might
be peeping forth from behind the hills, ready
to tear them limb from limb.
Our sports were molded by the life and cus--
toms of our people-indeed, we practised only
what we expected to do when grown. Our
games were feats with the bow and arrow, foot
and pony races, wrestling, swimming, and imi-
tations of the customs and habits of our fathers.
We had sham fights with mud balls and willow
wands, we played lacrosse, made war upon
bees, shot winter arrows (which were used only
in that season), and coasted upon ribs of ani-
mals and buffalo-robes.
Our games with bow and arrow were usually
combined with hunting; but as I shall take
hunting for the subject of another letter, I will
speak only of such as were purely plays.
No sooner did the boys get together than
they divided into squads, and chose sides; then

a leading arrow was shot at random into the
air. Before it fell to the ground, a volley from
the bows of the participants followed. Each
player was quick to see the direction and speed
of the leading arrow, and he tried to send his
own with the same speed and at an equal
height, so that when it fell it would be closer
than any of the others to the first.
It was considered out of place to shoot an
arrow by first sighting the object aimed at.
This was usually impracticable, because the
object was almost always in motion, while the
hunter himself was often on the back of a pony
in full gallop. Therefore, it was the offhand
shot that the Indian boy sought to master.
There was another game with arrows which
was characterized by gambling, and was gener-
ally confined to the men.
The races were an every-day occurrence.
At noon the boys were usually gathered by
some pleasant sheet of water, and as soon as
the ponies were watered, they were allowed
to graze for an hour or two, while the boys
stripped for their noonday sports. A boy might
say, "I can't run, but I challenge you for fifty
paces," to some other whom he considered his
equal. A former hero, when beaten, would
often explain his defeat by saying, "I had
drunk too much water!" Boys of all ages
were paired for a "spin," and the little red
men cheered on their favorites with spirit! As
soon as this was ended, the pony races fol-
lowed. All the speedy ponies were picked out,
and riders chosen. If a boy said, "I cannot
ride," what a shout went up! Such derision!
Last of all came the swimming. A little
urchin would hang to his pony's long tail, while
the latter held only his head above water and
glided sportively along. Finally the animals
were driven into a fine field of grass, and we
turned our attention to other games.
Lacrosse was an older game, and was con-


fined entirely to the Sisseton and Santee Sioux.
Shinny, such as is enjoyed by white boys on
ice, is now played by the western Sioux. The
" moccasin-game," although sometimes played
by the boys, was intended mainly for adults.
The "mud-and-willow" fight was rather a
severe and dangerous sport. A lump of soft
clay was stuck on one end of a limber and
springy willow wand, to be thrown with consid-
erable force as boys throw apples from sticks.
When there were fifty or a hundred on each
side, the battle became warm; but anything
to arouse the bravery of Indian boys seemed
to them a good and wholesome sport.
Wrestling was largely indulged in by all of
us. It may seem odd, but the wrestling was by
a great number of boys at once-from ten to
any number on.a side. It was really a battle,
but each one chose his own opponent. The rule
was that if a boy sat down, he was let alone;
but as long as he remained standing within the
field he was open to an attack. No one struck
with the hand, but all manner of tripping with
legs and feet and hurting with the knees was
allowed; altogether it was an exhausting pas-
time-fully equal to the American game of
foot-ball. Only the boy who was an athlete
could really enjoy it.
One of our most curious sports was a war
upon the nests of wild bees. We imagined our-
selves about to make an attack upon the Chip-
pewas or some other tribal foe. We all painted
and stole cautiously upon the nest; then, with a
rush and a war-whoop, sprang upon the object
of our attack and endeavored to destroy it.
But it seemed that the bees were always on the
alert, and never entirely surprised; for they
always raised quite as many scalps as did their
bold assailants! After the onslaught upon the
bees was ended, we usually followed it by a
pretended scalp-dance.
On the occasion of my first experience in
this mode of warfare, there were two other
little boys who also were novices. One of
them, particularly, was too young to indulge in
such an exploit. As it was the custom of the
Indians, when they killed or wounded an enemy
on the battle-field, to announce the act in a
loud voice, we did the same. My friend Little
Wound (as I will call him, for I do not remem-

ber his name), being quite small, was unable to
reach the nest until it had been well trampled
upon and broken, and the insects had made a
counter charge with such vigor as to repulse
and scatter our numbers in every direction.
However, he evidently did not want to retreat
without any honors; so he bravely jumped
upon the nest and yelled:
"I, brave Little Wound, to-day kill the only
fierce enemy! "
Scarcely was the last word uttered when he
screamed as if stabbed to the heart. One of
his older companions shouted:
"Dive into the water! Run! Dive into the
water!" for there was a lake near by. This
advice he obeyed.
When we had reassembled and were indulg-
ing in our mimic dance, Little Wound was not
allowed to dance. He was considered not to
be in existence-he had been "killed" by our
enemies, the Bee tribe. Poor little fellow!
His tear-stained face was sad and ashamed, as
he sat on a fallen log and watched the dance.
Although he might well have styled himself
one of the noble dead who had died for their
country, yet he was not unmindful that he had
screamed, and that this weakness would be apt
to recur to him many times in the future.
We had some quiet plays which we alter-
nated with the more severe and warlike ones.
Among them were throwing wands and snow-
arrows. In the winter we coasted much. We
had no "double-rippers" nor toboggans, but
six or seven of the long ribs of a buffalo, fas-
tened together at the larger end, answered all
practical purposes. Sometimes a strip of bass-
wood bark, four feet long and half a foot wide,
was used with much skill. We stood on one
end and held the other, using the inside of the
bark for the outside, and thus coasted down
long hills with remarkable speed.
Sometimes we played Medicine Dance."
This to us was almost what "playing church" is
among white children. Our people seemed to
think it an act of irreverence to imitate these
dances, but we children thought otherwise;
therefore we quite frequently enjoyed m secret
one of these performances. We used to ob-
serve all the important ceremonies and cus-
toms attending it, and it required something of


an actor to reproduce the dramatic features
of the dance. The real dances usually occu-
pied a day and a night, and the program was
long and varied, so that it was not easy to exe-
cute all the details perfectly; but the Indian
children are born imitators.
I was often selected as choirmaster on these
occasions, for I had happened to learn many
of the medicine songs, and was quite an apt
mimic. My grandmother, who was a noted
medicine woman, on hearing of these sacri-
legious acts (as she called them), warned me
that if any of the medicine men should learn
of my conduct, they would punish me terribly
by shriveling my limbs with slow disease.
Occasionally we also played "white man."
Our knowledge of the pale-face was limited, but
we had learned that he brought goods when-
ever he came, and that our people exchanged
furs for his merchandise. We also knew, some-
how, that his complexion was white, that he
wore short hair on his head and long hair on
his face, and that he had coat, trousers, and
hat, and did not patronize blankets in the day-
time. This was the picture we had formed of
the white man. So we painted two or three of
our number with white clay, and put on them
birchen hats, which we sewed up for the occa-
sion, fastened a piece of fur to their chins for a
beard, and altered their costume as much as
lay within our power. The white of the birch-
bark was made to answer for their white shirts.
Their merchandise consisted of sand for sugar,
wild beans for coffee, dried leaves for tea, pul-
verized earth for gunpowder, pebbles for bul-
lets, and clear water for dangerous fire-water."
We traded for these goods with skins of squir-
rels, rabbits, and small birds.
When we played "hunting buffalo" we would
send a few good runners off on the open prai-
rie with meat and other edibles; then start
a few of our swiftest runners to chase them

and capture the food. Once we were engaged
in this sport when a real hunt by the men was
going on near by; yet we did not realize that it
was so close until, in the midst of our play, an
immense buffalo appeared, coming at full speed
directly toward us. Our mimic buffalo hunt
turned into a very real "buffalo scare" As it
was near the edge of a forest, we soon disap-
peared among the leaves like a covey of young
prairie-chickens, and some hid in the bushes
while others took refuge in tall trees.
In the water we always had fun. When we
had no ponies, we often had swimming-matches
of our own, and we sometimes made rafts with
which we crossed lakes and rivers. It was a
common thing to "duck" a young or timid
boy, or to carry him into deep water to strug-
gle as best he might.
I remember a perilous ride with a compan-
ion on an unmanageable log, when we both
were less than seven years old. The older boys
had put us on this uncertain bark and pushed
us out into the swift current of the river. I
cannot speak for my comrade in distress, but
I can say now that I would rather ride on a
wild bronco any day than try to stay on and
steady a short log in a river. I never knew
how we managed to prevent a shipwreck on
that voyage, and to reach the shore!
We had many curious wild pets. There
were young foxes, bears, wolves, fawns, ra-
coons, buffalo calves, and birds of all kinds,
tamed by various boys. My pets were different
at different times, but I particularly remember
one. I once had a grizzly cub for a pet, and so
far as he and I were concerned our relations
were charming and very close. But I hardly
know whether he made more enemies for me
or I for him. It was his custom to treat un-
mercifully every boy who injured me. He was
despised for his conduct in my interest, and I
was hated on account of his interference.

(To be continued.)






S OW bleak outside
SS, t lay the landscape
of a New England
4 winter! leafless
S- trees and snow-
o th covered earth be-
Slogs2-' in neath a dull -gray
sky. So pale the
daylight was that all
of it that found its way
through the small win-
dow but dimly lighted the
room in which Dorothy stood,
turning her anxious gaze from the world with-
out to the cozier scene within. The crackling
logs in the wide fireplace glowed warmly, and
by their light revealed the rude settle (where
a bed had been made for an invalid), and
brought into clear relief the lithe, erect form
of the young man who was studying Dorothy's
troubled face.
It can be done," he urged, and it is all
she wants now. I fear me the little grand-
mother is going."
Dorothy feared it also, but her fair face grew
a shade paler when the thought was put into
words. Her eyes sought the settle where the
small, wasted figure lay--the thin, worn features
and silvery hair telling of age, though the dark
eyes were still very bright, and the hand that
lay upon the coverlet was smaller and more
delicate than Dorothy's own. A high-born
dame was Grandmother Gage. All her shel-
tered, luxurious, early years had unfitted her
for the trials that came later, and when, widowed
and bereft of fortune, she followed her two sons
to the new world, it was too late in life for her
to take root in the rugged soil of a strange
She bore the changes and hardships uncom-
plainingly, but she had slowly drooped under
them, and now while the snow lay white about
the cabin she murmured of hawthorn blossoms,

and thought she heard the bell in the old
church tower. Occasionally she asked for her
sons; and it was this which had suggested
to Reuben the plan he proposed, and over
which his sister shook her head so doubtfully.
Business had called their father to Provi-
dence-no slight journey in those times, when
every traveler must needs provide his own
conveyance- and thence he expected to
ride across country to his brother's, on the
Chicopee River, and so reach home by a cir-
cuitous route.
"But he might come to-night," said Dorothy.
"There were matters to discuss with our
uncle, and he will be tired from his journey.
He may delay for a day or more, and then "
Reuben paused. The little grandmother will
not be here," he was about to say, but looking
in Dorothy's face he changed the sentence
"Uncle Nathan will not come with him. -My
going will bring them both."
"If it were not for the danger- and Doro-
thy hesitated. The Indians have been trouble-
some of late. You know the word neighbor
Blakewell brought us but yesterday. On the
traveled road I would fear less for you, but-"
"But that is too far to travel on foot," in-
terrupted Reuben, with the positiveness of his
conviction that the time for action was short.
"Striking directly across to the Ridge and
pond cuts off five miles or more, and once
on the ice, I can make good speed."
As he spoke, he threw over his shoulder a
pair of skates, rude and primitive in construc-
tion, but evidently valued as no common pos-
session. The invalid turned uneasily on her
pillow, and listened expectantly.
"Do I hear them coming--Nathan, John?
It is so long-almost dark."
The wistful gaze, the tremulous eagerness
of the words dying into incoherence, decided
Reuben, and silenced his sister's objections.
"If it must be-" said Dorothy.


"Take heart, little sister. A true daughter
of New England will not yield over much to
fear," urged Reuben. I should be at Uncle's
by mid-afternoon, and we might be well on
our way back while the daylight lasts."
He was off as he spoke, and striding swiftly
away down the snowy path that led from the
door. But Dorothy, brave in any danger that
she could share, felt less like a true daughter
of New England" than like a lonely, heart-
sick girl as she watched Reuben out of sight,
and peopled the distance beyond with enemies.
Reuben, however, in the wisdom of his twenty
years, thought neighbor Blakewell's warning
the result of over-cautiousness-the natural
forebodings of an old man who in earlier life
had suffered much from Indian hostility.
But the journey must needs be taken," he
said aloud with the freedom of one used to
Solitary indeed his route was when he had
left the road, and turned westward across the
desolate country. The keen air stirred the
blood of the young traveler, and quickened his
pulse. After the weary night of watching and
anxiety, it was a relief to have the power to
act; and he pressed forward rapidly, though
with eye and ear alert for every sight and
sound. The region was but sparsely settled
even along the highway, and in the course he
had chosen all sign of human habitation was
soon lost. His purpose was to cross the
wooded hill known as the Ridge to a little
lake or pond on the farther side,--Podunk
Pond, -and therefrom flowed the Chicopee
River, down which his skates would carry him
swiftly and easily almost to his uncle's door.
For two or three hours he* walked steadily
on, meeting no obstacle, and making such pro-
gress that he began to congratulate himself on
completing this most toilsome part of his jour-
ney even earlier than he had hoped. He had
made the rough ascent of the Ridge, pausing
for a moment on the highest point to look
around him in every direction. For an instant
he thought he saw a moving figure below him,
but at the next glance it was gone; and,
smiling at the thought of having been deceived
by a shadow, he hastened his descent. The
pond gleamed before him, a broad field of ice

smooth and firm enough to delight the heart
of any skater, and his eyes brightened with
satisfaction at his course.
"I wish Dorothy knew-"
But the wish was cut short. An arrow sud-
denly whizzed by his head, there was a fierce
shout that made his heart stand still in terror,
and the next moment he was surrounded by a
band of savages who seemed to have sprung
out of the earth. Flight was impossible, resis-
tance worse than useless. He was seized, and
his hands rudely tied behind him, though the
significant flourish of a tomahawk over his
head suggested that some of the party favored
a more speedy method of disposing of him.
All the peril of his situation, and the probable
fate before him, rushed upon the young pris-
oner with overwhelming terror, mingled with
torturing thoughts of the home he had left,
his inability to carry the message, and the an-
guish his loss would cause. A vision of poor
Dorothy watching in vain for his return, of his
father bereft of the son who should have been
the stay of his old age, almost maddened him.
Meanwhile his captors were coolly appropri-
ating his few effects. They knew the use of
his musket, but his skates were examined doubt-
fully, and passed about in evident perplexity.
Their shape seemed to suggest foot-gear, and
an old brave sat down and gravely attempted
to adjust one of them to his foot. The effort
was unsuccessful, and the curious scrutiny be-
gan again. Then a young warrior with a par-
ticularly hideous face mustered a few words of
English, and questioned Reuben.
"White-face moccasin? "
Ice-ice moccasin." Reuben nodded.
He repeated the words several times, trying
to make them clearer by signs- not an easy
task with his hands pinioned, and he was not
sure that he was understood. But anything that
drew their attention away from himself was at
least a brief respite, and he occupied it in vainly
trying to form some plan of escape.
It was apparent that the Indians respected
the white man's knowledge, and these un-
known implements were once more inspected
deliberately. Reuben's gaze, wandering a little
from the group before him, fell suddenly upon
another point of interest, and he discovered


how it was
that his foes
had fallen
upon him
without any --
Onthe top
of a hillock "
not far from ---
the shore a
had been
made, show-
ing that the
band had
planned for "---:
savage work
in that region, and meant to
have a safe place of retreat
after their murderous sallies.
"Oh, if I could but warn
the settlers!" the young pris-
oner thought, groaning as he
realized his helplessness. The
next moment his own doom
seemed imminent; for the In-
dian who had previously ques- "THE BRA
tioned him approached a sec-
ond time, and drawing a gleaming knife flashed it
around his captive's
head, and made
a feint of
it into

his heart. Reuben's lips paled, for he was
young, and life was sweet; but he was a true



scion of the brave Pilgrim stock, and he knew
his enemy too well to utter plea or outcry.
After a few feints and lunges, however, the
fiendish pastime ended in a descent of the
gleaming blade upon the thongs that bound
Reuben's wrists, and they were severed with
one quick stroke. Astonished at this release,
the boy was speedily enlightened as to its
meaning by having his skates thrust into his hand
with the command to "show Injun how walk."
By many efforts at explanation, and by much
pointing to the pond, it was at last understood
that the strange shoes were for use on the ice,
and the whole party, with Reuben carefully
guarded in the middle, walked down to the
brink of the little lake. There one Indian, who
boasted that he "knew heap pale-face talk,"
insisted upon having the skates strapped upon
his feet, and Reuben adjusted them. The brave
surveyed them proudly, got upon his feet, es-
sayed a first step, and then sat down again with
a velocity and force that left him in no mood



for further experiments. In his rage he would
have dashed the skates to pieces and have
brained their unfortunate owner, but his com-
panions interfered. His downfall furnished di-
version for them, and another young warrior,
possessed by a desire to show how much bet-
ter he could manage matters, tried the "ice-
moccasins himself. By great caution he suc-
ceeded in getting fairly out upon the pond,
but once there, at the first bold stride his feet
flew from under him, and he slid away on his
back for a few yards amid the derisive cheer-
ing of his comrades. His experience .had a
wonderful effect in restoring the equanimity of
the first skater, and Reuben, with a wild hope
springing up in his brain, ventured to propose
that he show how to use the appliances.
The offer caused a moment's discussion.
But if the older Indians offered objections,
they were overborne by the younger ones, who
were doubtless more curious and eager for
sport, and the captive was escorted onto the
ice, and allowed to put on his skates. Care-
fully he fastened every strap and buckle, his
heart in a tumult of hope and fear. Away to
the west were friends and freedom-the pos-
sibility of saving lives dearer than his own;
but nearer were his watchful enemies with a
significant flourish of weapons, and he moved
cautiously. He skated very slowly to and fro
within the guarding circle, managing gradually
to widen it a little as he turned. He feigned to
slip once or twice and lose control of his
treacherous "moccasins" until he had been
carried farther than he intended; and these mis-
haps were greeted with jeering delight. After a
few minutes his slow progress and apparently
uncertain footing made the Indians think that
the white man's shoes were not of a kind that
would enable him to run away, and they
slightly relaxed their guard. Reuben had been
watching for such a lapse, and with a sudden
turn he struck out across the pond with all the
speed that skill and desperation could give.
The Indians were taken by surprise; for one
moment they stood stupefied, but the next a
fierce shout arose, and they started in hot pur-
suit. The young skater was well in advance,
however, and increased the distance with every
second of time. He seemed fairly to fly over
VOL. XXI--40.

the smooth ice, and though a shower of arrows
fell around him, he was unhurt, and his pur-
suers were soon left far behind.
Not until utter weariness compelled him did
he relax his speed, and he kept far away from
the shore through the rest of his journey; but
he reached his uncle's house in safety, and
found his father there. Messengers were sent
in every direction to warn the settlers of dan-
ger, and then Reuben, with his father and
uncle, traveled on fleet horses homeward. The


"little grandmother" was still living, and her
dark eyes brightened with joy at the sight of
her sons again. Then, as if in content, the
tired lids drooped and she was away to the
country where there is no more homesickness.
Many a generation has vanished since then,
but on the shores of the pond the old Indian
fortification grass-grown now, and looking
like a great green bowl amid the surrounding
country-is still known as Fort Hill; and to
the children who dig up rude arrow-heads
there is told the story of Reuben's escape.


C-HAF LE I \V -: llii;,-7 l I ',:i- .I ..,L

Aie billing in lthe Siiii-
A finer lot of gentlemen
I never looked upon.

There 's Mynheer Pottebakker,
And there 's the Duc van Thol,
And Jagt van Delft and Lac van Rhyn,
And Burgher Tournesol,
With breeches wide as petticoats
And round as any bowl.

And there is many another
Who bears an English name,
Like those good Holland gentlemen
Who with Dutch William came,
And while they posed as English lords
Were Dutchmen all the same.

These gentlemen from Holland,
They have no word to say,
But in a solemn silence sit
In gorgeous fine array;
Yet sure they are good company
For that they look so gay.

I never saw such breeches,
E'en on our modern beaux;
For each one of these gentlemen
Doth wear his Sunday clothes
Of crimson, yellow, white, and green,
And violet, and rose.

I think they know a secret,
These visitors of mine,
They found out where the rainbow rests
Above the earth to shine,
And quickly snipped a great piece off,
To make their breeches fine.

Some people call them tulips-
Could these a secret hold?
They know where lies, these gentlemen,
The rainbow's pot of gold,
Which one might find and grow quite rich,
If but these tulips told!

I might, had I the secret,
Wear finer clothes myself;
But when they come to visit me
'I have no thought of pelf,
Before these gracious gentlemen
Upon my window-shelf.

And though they sit in silence,
All in a gorgeous row,
I 'm always glad to welcome them,
And sorry when they go;
A much more goodly company
I ne'er expect to know.





AT the beginning of the last century, when
Queen Anne sat on the throne of Great Britain,
there were ten British colonies strung along the
Atlantic coast of North America. These colo-
nies were various in origin and ill-disposed one
to another. They were young, feeble, and
jealous; their total population was less than
four hundred thousand. In the colony of Mas-
sachusetts, and in the town of Boston, on Janu-
ary 17, 1706, was born Benjamin Franklin, who
died in the State of Pennsylvania and in the
city of Philadelphia on April 17, 1790. In the
eighty-four years of his long life, Benjamin
Franklin saw the ten colonies increase to thir-
teen; he saw them come together for defense
against the common enemy; he saw them
throw off their allegiance to the British crown;
he saw them form themselves into these United
States; he saw the population increase to nearly
four millions; he saw the beginning of the
movement across the Alleghanies which was
to give us all the boundless West and all our
possibilities of expansion. And in the bringing
about of this growth, this union, this indepen-
dence, this development, the share of Benjamin
Franklin was greater than the share of any
other man.
With Washington, Franklin divided the honor
of being the American who had most fame
abroad and most veneration at home. He was
the only man (so one of his biographers re-
minds us) who signed the Declaration of Inde-
pendence, the Treaty of Alliance with France,
the Treaty of Peace with England, and the
Constitution under which we still live. But
not only had he helped to make the nation -
he had done more than any one else to form
the individual. If the typical American is
shrewd, industrious, and thrifty, it is due in
great measure to the counsel and to the exam-
ple of Benjamin Franklin. In "Poor Richard's
Almanac" he summed up wisely, and he set

forth sharply, the rules of conduct on which
Americans have trained themselves for now a
century and a half. Upon his countrymen the
influence of Franklin's preaching and of his
practice was wide, deep, and abiding. He
was the first great American,-for Washing-
ton was twenty-six years younger.
Benjamin was the youngest son of Josiah
Franklin, who had come to America in 1682.
His mother was a daughter of Peter Folger,
one of the earliest colonists. His father was a
soap-boiler and tallow-chandler; and as a boy
of ten Benjamin was employed in cutting wick
for the candles, filling the dipping-molds, tend-
ing shop, and going on errands. He did not
like the trade, and wanted to be a sailor. So
his father used to take him to walk about Bos-
ton among the joiners, bricklayers, turners, and
other mechanics, that the boy might discover
his inclination for some trade on land. Frank-
lin tells us that from a child he was fond of read-
ing, and laid out on books all the little money
that came into his hands. Among the books
he read as a boy were the "Pilgrim's Progress"
and Essays to do Good "; and this last gave
him such a turn of thinking that it influenced
his conduct through life and made him always
" set a greater value on the character of a doer
of good than on any other kind of reputation."
It was this bookish inclination which deter-
mined his father to make a printer of him, and
at the age of twelve he was apprenticed to his
brother James. There was then but one news-
paper in America-the Boston News-Letter,
issued once a week. A second journal, the
Boston Gazette, was started in 1719. At first
James Franklin was its printer, but when it
passed into other hands he began a paper of his
own the New England Courant, more lively
than the earlier journals, and more enter-
prising. As Benjamin set up the type for
his brother's paper, it struck him that perhaps


he could write as well as some of the contrib-
utors. He was then a boy of sixteen, and al-
ready had he been training himself as a writer.
He had studied Locke On the Human Un-
derstanding," Xenophon's Memorable Things
of Socrates," and a volume of the Spectator"
of Addison and Steele. This last he chose as
his model, mastering its methods, taking apart
the essays to see how they were put together,
and so finding out the secret of its simple style,
its easy wit, its homely humor. His first efforts
were put in at night under the door of the
printing-house; they were approved and printed,
and after a while he declared their authorship.


For a mild joke on the government James
Franklin was forbidden to publish the New
England Courant, so he canceled his brother's
apprenticeship and made over the paper to
Benjamin. But the indentures were secretly
renewed, and the elder brother treated the
younger with increasing harshness, giving him

an aversion to arbitrary power which stuck to
him through life. At length the boy could
bear it no longer, and he left his brother's
shop. James was able to prevent him from
getting work elsewhere, so Benjamin slipped
off on a sloop to New York. Failing of em-
ployment here, he went on to Philadelphia,
being then seventeen. He arrived there with
only a Dutch dollar" in his pocket. Weary
and hungry, he asked at a baker's for a three-
penny-worth of bread, and, to his surprise, he
received three great puffy rolls. He walked
off with a roll under each arm and eating the
third; and he passed the house of a Mr. Read,
whose daughter stood at the door,
thinking the young stranger made
a most awkward, ridiculous ap-
pearance, and little guessing that
she was one day to be his wife.
Franklin worked at his trade
in Philadelphia for nearly two
years. In 1724 he crossed the
ocean for the first time to buy
type and a press, but was dis-
appointed of a letter of credit
Governor Keith had promised
him. He found employment as a
printer in London, and he came
near starting a swimming-school
there; but in 1726, after two
years' absence, he returned to
Philadelphia, and there he made
his home for the rest of his life.
He soon set up for himself as a
printer, and, as he was more
skilful than his rivals and more
industrious, he prospered, getting
the government printing and buy-
ing the Pennsylvania Gazeltte. He
married Deborah Read; and he
made many friends, the closest of
whom he formed into a club
called the "Junto," devoted to
inquiry and debate. At his suggestion the
members of this club kept their books in com-
mon at the club-room for a while; and out
of this grew the first circulating library in
America-the germ of the American public-
library system. And in 1732 he issued the
first number of Poor Richard's Almanac,"



which continued to appear every year for a proverbial sentences, chiefly such as inculcated
quarter of a century. industry and frugality as the means of procuring
It was "Poor Richard's Almanac" which wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being
first made Franklin famous, and it was out of more difficult for a man in want to act always
the mouth of Poor Richard that Franklin spoke honestly, as, to use here one of those proverbs,
It is hard for an empty sack to stand
S-. ', upright.'" By these pithy, pregnant say-
POO Richa d, I ings, carrying their moral home, fit to
-be pondered in the long winter even-
A N ings, Franklin taught Americans to be
thrifty, to be forehanded, and to look
for help only from themselves. The
rest of the almanac was also inter-
SA m a a ack testing, especially the playful prefaces;
For the Year of Chrift for Franklin was the first of American
humorists, and to this day he has not
been surpassed in his own line. The
best of the proverbs -not original, all
of them, but all sent forth freshened
"-. "and sharpened by Franklin's shrewd
.Being the. Firft after IE AP YEAR.' wit-he "assembled and formed into a
Se connected discourse, prefixed to the al-
y rthe Ac un phe E.,Ilber eri s i4 manac of 1757, as the harangue of
,Ry the Latin.Church hhen 0 ent.. T 691 a wise old man to the people attend-
Sy the Con.putariou ofI. iVi -. -. ing an auction." Thus compacted, the
By the.Rpnm.ia Chronology 5d2 scattered counsels sped up and down
Sy the 'ewiK;Rabbies 544 the Atlantic coast, being copied into all
tV reiu. is contained. ': the newspapers. The wise Speech of
SThe. nations, Eclipfcs. ludgmpinto Father Abraham" also traveled across
.the Weather, Spring Tides, Plan' NI(ii-n. & the ocean and was reprinted in England
...nurual Afpel,. Sun and Moon's'Ri;no':nd e..- as a broadside to be stuck up in houses
.fing, Length of Days, Time -"of High Water, r b s
'Fairs, Gre and of brvabys, Tim Hi d for daily guidance; it was twice trans-
Fitted to the Latitude ol For.rr Degrees lated into French-being probably the
'.nd a leridun of Five Hours Weft front, I.mdor, first essay by an American author which
'ur- may %ithour fenfihle Enrot. ferveal, rhe .id-. had a circulation outside the domains
S r]cenr Places, even from NecufoundaLd.io.ytabh. of our language. It has been issued
RHAR. SR since in German, Spanish, Italian, Rus-
By RICHAIR.D S AU/N -RS Phil64 sian, Dutch, Portuguese, Gaelic, and
SPHI A T D 'L P H r A Greek. Without question it is what
'inted and fold by B., FX.NALIV,..at-.he.-New it has been called-" the most famous
-. Ptning-Office near the Martet. piece of literature the Colonies pro-
.-. Thc..Third im duced."
......-... .......... ... No man had ever preached a doctrine
'POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC," NOW IN THE POSSESSION OF THE which more skilfully showed how to get
PENNSYLVANIA HISTORICAL SOCIETY, PHILADELPHIA. the best for yourself; and no man ever
most effectively to his fellow-countrymen. He showed himself more ready than Franklin to do
had noticed that the almanac was often the things for others. He invented an open stove to
only book in many houses, and he therefore give more heat with less wood, but he refused to
"filled all the little spaces that occurred be- take out a patent for it, glad of an opportu-
tween the remarkable days in the calendar with nity to serve his neighbors; and this invention


He soon mastered all that was known, and then
he made new experiments with his wanted in-
genuity. He was the first to declare the iden-
tity of electricity with lightning. Using a wet
string, he flew a kite against a thunder-cloud,
and drew a spark from a key at the end of the
.... cord. The lightning-rod was his invention.
S r Of his investigations and experiments he wrote
N. ature a"d .. t reports that were printed in England and trans-
lated in France. The Royal Society voted him
6 F A the Copley medal; the French king had the



S H frlrical Chronicle; .
'-< Tor all the Brini) Plantations- in Amertia
.... ..,,S-S % WII R'% ,Kr.,
~ [To be ContinuecMonhly.]
S.. ANUARY, 7741.


of Franklin's was the beginning of the great
American stove trade of to-day. He founded
the first fire company in Philadelphia, and so
made a beginning for the present fire depart-
ments. He procured the reorganization of the
night-watch and the payment of the watchmen,
thus preparing for the regular police force now
established. He started a Philosophical Society,
and he took the lead in setting on foot an
academy, which still survives as the University ,
of Pennsylvania. While he was doing things
for others, others did things for him, and he ~
was made Clerk of the General Assembly in
1736, and Postmaster of Philadelphia in 1737. .
In 175o he was elected a member of the As- I. 7
sembly, and in 1753 he was made Postmaster- .
General for all the Colonies. In 1748 he had ...,. ..*'
retired from business, having so fitted his prac- I
tice to his preaching that he had gained a -
competency when only forty-two years old. .. ...,;-
The leisure thus acquired he used in the THE FIRST MAGAZINE PUBLISHED IN AMERICA. PRINTED
study of electrical science, then in its infancy. OF THE PENNSYLVANIA HISTORICAL SOCIETY.


experiments repeated before him; and both Har-
vard and Yale made Franklin a Master of Arts.
But Franklin was not long allowed to live
in philosophic retirement. When the French
War broke out he was appointed one of the
commissioners sent by Pennsylvania to a con-
gress of the Colonies held at Albany. He
wrote a pamphlet which aided the enlisting of
troops; and by pledging his own credit he
helped General Braddock to get the wagons
needed for the unfortunate expedition against
Fort Duquesne. He drew up a Plan of Union
on which the Colonies might act together, and
thus anticipated the Continental Congress of
twenty years later. In 1757, when Pennsyl-
vania could no longer bear the interference of
the governor appointed by the proprietors,
Franklin was sent to London as the represen-
tative of his fellow-citizens. It was more than
thirty years since he had left England, a jour-
neyman printer; and now he returned to it, a
man of fifty, the foremost citizen of Philadel-
phia, the author of Father Abraham's Speech,"
and the discoverer of many new facts about
He was gone nearly five years, successfully
pleading the cause of Pennsylvania, and pub-
lishing a pamphlet which helped to prevent the
restoration of Canada to the French. Then he
came home, to be met by an escort of five hun-
dred horsemen, and to be honored by a vote
of thanks from the Assembly. But the dispute
with the proprietors of the colony blazing forth
again, Franklin was sent back to London once
more to oppose the Stamp Act. He returned to
England in 1764, at first as agent of Pennsyl-
vania only, but in time as the representative of
New Jersey, Georgia, and Massachusetts also;
and he remained for more than ten years,
pleading the cause of the colonists against the
king, and explaining to all who chose to listen
the real state of feeling in America. He did
what he could to get the first Stamp Act re-
pealed. He gave a good account of himself
when he was examined by a committee of the
House of Commons. He wrote telling papers
of all sorts: one a set of "Rules for Reducing
a Great Empire to a Small One," and another
purporting to advance the claim of the King
of Prussia to levy taxes in Great Britain just

as the King of England asserted the right to
lay taxes on the Americans. He lingered in
London, doing all he could to avert the war
which he felt to be inevitable. At last, in 1775,
less than a month before the battle of Lexing-
ton, he sailed for home.
On the day after he landed he was chosen a
member of the Second Continental Congress.
He acted as Postmaster-General. He signed the
Declaration of Independence, making answer
to Harrison's appeal for unanimity: "Yes, we
must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all
hang separately." Then there appeared to be
a hope that France might be induced to help
us; and in September, 1776, Franklin was
elected envoy. Being then seventy years old,
he went to Europe for the fourth time. In
France he received such a welcome as no other
American has ever met with. He was known
as an author, as a philosopher, as a statesman.
The king and the queen, the court and the
people, all were his friends. His portraits
were everywhere, and his sayings were repeated
by everybody. In the magnificence of the pal-
ace of Versailles, Franklin kept his dignified
simplicity, and with his customary shrewdness
he turned to the advantage of his country all
the good-will shown to himself. After Bur-
goyne's surrender the French agreed to an open
alliance with the United States, and Franklin,
with his fellow-commissioners, signed the treaty
in 1778.
During the war Franklin remained in France
as American Minister, borrowing money, for-
warding supplies, exchanging prisoners, and
carrying on an immense business. As one of
his biographers remarks, Franklin "stood in the
relation of a navy department" to John Paul
Jones when that hardy sailor was harassing the
British coasts in the "Bonhomme Richard,"-
as his vessel was named, after "Poor Richard."
He bore the brunt of the countless difficulties
which beset the American representatives in
Europe. At last Cornwallis surrendered; and,
with Adams and Jay, Franklin signed the
treaty of peace with Great Britain, in Sep-
tember, 1783. The next year Jefferson came
out, and in 1785 relieved Franklin, who was
allowed to return to America, being then
seventy-nine years of age.



His "Autobiography," which he had begun
in 1771 in England, and had taken up again in
France in 1783, he hoped to be able to finish
now he was at home again and relieved from
the responsibility of office. But he was at
once elected a Councilor of Philadelphia, and
although he would have liked the leisure he
had hardly earned, he felt that he had no right
to refuse this duty. Then was the "critical
period of American history," and Franklin was
kept busy writing to his friends in Europe en-
couraging and hopeful accounts of our affairs.
When the constitutional convention met, Frank-
lin was made a member that, in the possible
absence of General Washington, there might be
some one whom all could agree in calling to
the chair." After the final draft of the Consti-
tution was prepared, Franklin made a speech
pleading for harmony, and urging that the doc-
ument be sent before the people with the unan-
imous approbation of the members of the
convention. Then, while the last members
were signing, he said that he had seen a sun
painted on the back of the President's chair,
and during the long debates when there seemed
little hope of an agreement he had been in
doubt whether it was taken at the moment of
sunrise or sunset; "but," he said, "now at
length I have the happiness to know that it is
a rising and not a setting sun."
He was now a very old man. He said him-
self: I seem to have intruded myself into the
company of posterity, when I ought to have
been abed and asleep." His cheerfulness never
failed him, and although he suffered much, he
bore up bravely. "When I consider," he
wrote in 1788, "how many more terrible mala-
dies the human body is liable to, I think my-
self well-off that I have only three incurable
ones: the gout, the stone, and old age." He
looked forward to death without fear, writing
to a friend that, as he had seen "a good deal
of this world," he felt "a growing curiosity to be
acquainted with some other." For a year or
more before his death he was forced to keep
his bed. When at last the end was near and
a pain seized him in the chest, it was suggested
that he change his position and so breathe
more easily. "A dying man can do nothing
easily," he answered; and these were his last

words. He died April 17, 1790, respected
abroad and beloved at home.
In many ways Franklin was the most re-
markable man who came to maturity while
these United States were yet British colonies;
and nothing, perhaps, was more remarkable
about him than the fact that he was never "co-
lonial" in his attitude. He stood before kings
with no uneasy self-consciousness or self-asser-
tion; and he faced a committee of the House
of Commons with the calm strength of one

thrice-armed in a just cause. He never bragged
or blustered; he never vaunted his country or
himself. He was always firm and dignified,
shrewd and good-humored. Humor, indeed,
he had so abundantly that it was almost a
failing; like Abraham Lincoln, another typical
American, he never shrank from a jest. Like
Lincoln, he knew the world well and accepted
it for what it was, and made the best of it, ex-
pecting no more. But Franklin lacked the
spirituality, the faith in the ideal, which was
at the core of Lincoln's character. And here
was Franklin's limitation: what lay outside of
the bounds of common sense he did not see -
probably he did not greatly care to see; but
common sense he had in a most uncommon
One of his chief characteristics was curi-
osity-in the wholesome meaning of that
abused word. He never rested till he knew
the why and the wherefore of all that aroused




his attention. As the range of his interests was
extraordinarily wide, the range of his informa-
tion came to be very extended also. He was
thorough, too; he had no tolerance for super-
ficiality; he went to the bottom of whatever
he undertook to investigate. He had the true
scientific spirit. He loved knowledge for its
own sake, although he loved it best, no doubt,
when it could be made immediately useful to

his fellow-men. In science, in politics, in litera-
ture, he was eminently practical; in whatever
department of human endeavor he was en-
gaged, he brought the same qualities to bear.
For the medal which was presented to Franklin
in France the great statesman Turgot com-
posed the line:

Eripuit coelo fulmen sceptrumque tyrannis;


and it was true that the American faced the
ministers of George III. with the same fearless
eye that had gazed at the thunder-cloud.
There is an admirable series in course of
publication containing the lives of American
men of letters, and there is an equally admir-
able series containing the lives of American
statesmen. In each of these collections there
is a volume devoted to Benjamin Franklin;
and if there were also a series of American
scientific men, the story of Franklin's life
would need to be told anew for that also. No
other American could make good his claim to
be included even in two of these three collec-
tions. As science advances, the work of the
discoverers of the past, even though it be the
foundation of a new departure, may sink more
and more out of sight. As time goes on, and
we prosper, the memory of our indebtedness to
each of. the statesmen who assured the stability
of our institutions, may fade away. But the
writer of a book which the people have taken
to heart is safe in their remembrance; and,
perhaps, to-day it is as the author of his "Auto-
biography" that Franklin is best known. If
he were alive probably nothing would sur-
prise him more than that he should be ranked
as a man of letters, for he was not an author
by profession. He was not moved to com-
position by desire of fortune or of fame; he
wrote always to help a cause, to attain a pur-
pose; and the cause having been won, the
purpose having been achieved, he thought no
more about what he had written. He had a
perfect understanding of the people he meant
to reach, and of the means whereby he could
best reach them.
Most of these writings were mere journal-
ism, to be forgotten when its day's work was
done; but some of them had so much merit of
their own that they have survived the tempo-
rary debate which called them into being. Wit
is a great antiseptic, and it has kept sweet the
" Whistle," the Petition of the Left Hand," the
"Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout,"
and the lively little essay on the Ephemera."
Wisdom is not so common even now that
men. can afford to forget "Father Abraham's


Speech," the Necessary Hints to those that
would be Rich," and Digging for Hidden
Treasure." Much of his fun is as fresh and as
unforced now as it was a century and a half
ago. Much of the counsel he. gives so pleas-
antly, so gently, so shrewdly is as needful now
as it was when "Poor Richard" sent forth his
first almanac. He taught his fellow-country-
men to be masters of the frugal virtues. He
taught them to attain to self-support that they
might be capable of self-sacrifice. He taught
them not to look to the government for help,
but to stand ready always to help the govern-
ment if need be. There are limits to his doc-
trine, no doubt; and there are things undreamt
of in Franklin's philosophy.' Yet, his philoso-
phy was good so far as it went; in its own
field to this day there is no better. Common
sense cannot comprehend all things; but it led
Franklin to try to help people to be happy in
the belief that this was the best way to make
them good.
It was by watching and by thinking that
Franklin arrived at his wisdom; and it was not
by chance that he was able to set forth his
views so persuasively. Skill in letters is never
a lucky accident. How rigorously he trained
himself in composition he has told us in the
"Autobiography"-how he pondered on his
parts of speech and practised himself in all
sorts of literary gymnastics. And of the suc-
cess of this training there is no better proof
than the Aftobiography" itself. It is a mar-
velous volume, holding its own to-day beside
Robinson Crusoe," as one of the books
which are a perpetual delight to all classes
and in all climes, to young and to old, to the
scholar familiar with Franklin's achievements,
and to the boy just able to spell out its simple
sentences. Its charm is perennial, and it is a
revelation of the man himself, transparent and
direct; and so it is that while we enjoy the
book we learn to like the author who tells thus
honestly the story of his life. It is one of the
best books of its kind in any language; and, as
Longfellow declared, "autobiography is what
biography ought to be." It abides as the chief
monument of Benjamin Franklin's fame.



OUR blue-eyed daughter with locks of gold,
Rosy and dimpled and eight years old,
Went to Sunday-school one fine day,
When grass was -springing in balmy May.
The questions swiftly went round the class,
And soon came the turn of our little lass.
"Your duty to neighbors?" the teacher said;
Promptly replied our Golden-head,
" I don't know that kind of duty, you see,
But I know plain duty as well as can be."
His hand on her curls the teacher laid;
"Well, what is 'plain duty,' my little maid ? "
"Why, duty's the thing"-with a moment's thought-
" That you don't want to do, but you know you ought!"



WE once had a family of giants for neigh-
bors. Not museum giants, I mean real giants.
I never asked just how big they were, but you
can judge for yourself after I have told you
about them.
Perhaps I would n't have taken the house if
I had known that the giants lived so near by,
for I did n't know much about such people
then; but I did n't discover that their house
was next ours until I had made the bargain
with the agent. I had asked him all about
everything I could think of-all about station-
ary wash-tubs, malaria, mosquitos, the milk-
man, the ice-man, the letter-man, and all the
other kinds of men-but I never thought to ask
about giants. No man, however prudent, can
think of everything. But as I was shutting the
front gate, after I had said I would take the
house for a year, I saw a footprint in the road.
The footprint that Robinson Crusoe saw sur-
prised him, but even Crusoe did n't see such a
footprint as this, for it was nearly as big as a boat.

"What 's that ? I asked the agent.
"What? Where? he asked, as uneasily as
if I had discovered water in the cellar, or a
leak in the roof.
"That there! I answered, pointing to
the footprint.
Oh, that! he answered. That must be
the footprint of Mr. Megalopod."
"It seems to cover considerable space," I
Yes," he admitted. Even an agent could n't
deny that. "He's a giant. Did n't I mention
that you would have a giant for a neighbor ? I
thought I spoke of it."
"No," I said; "you did n't speak of it. You
said that it was a pleasant neighborhood. Per-
haps that is what you had in mind."
"Possibly," he answered. You have no
objection to giants, have you? "
I paused a moment before I replied. It de-
pended on the kind of giant. If it was one of
the Blunderbore kind, even a foot-ball player



OUR blue-eyed daughter with locks of gold,
Rosy and dimpled and eight years old,
Went to Sunday-school one fine day,
When grass was -springing in balmy May.
The questions swiftly went round the class,
And soon came the turn of our little lass.
"Your duty to neighbors?" the teacher said;
Promptly replied our Golden-head,
" I don't know that kind of duty, you see,
But I know plain duty as well as can be."
His hand on her curls the teacher laid;
"Well, what is 'plain duty,' my little maid ? "
"Why, duty's the thing"-with a moment's thought-
" That you don't want to do, but you know you ought!"



WE once had a family of giants for neigh-
bors. Not museum giants, I mean real giants.
I never asked just how big they were, but you
can judge for yourself after I have told you
about them.
Perhaps I would n't have taken the house if
I had known that the giants lived so near by,
for I did n't know much about such people
then; but I did n't discover that their house
was next ours until I had made the bargain
with the agent. I had asked him all about
everything I could think of-all about station-
ary wash-tubs, malaria, mosquitos, the milk-
man, the ice-man, the letter-man, and all the
other kinds of men-but I never thought to ask
about giants. No man, however prudent, can
think of everything. But as I was shutting the
front gate, after I had said I would take the
house for a year, I saw a footprint in the road.
The footprint that Robinson Crusoe saw sur-
prised him, but even Crusoe did n't see such a
footprint as this, for it was nearly as big as a boat.

"What 's that ? I asked the agent.
"What? Where? he asked, as uneasily as
if I had discovered water in the cellar, or a
leak in the roof.
"That there! I answered, pointing to
the footprint.
Oh, that! he answered. That must be
the footprint of Mr. Megalopod."
"It seems to cover considerable space," I
Yes," he admitted. Even an agent could n't
deny that. "He's a giant. Did n't I mention
that you would have a giant for a neighbor ? I
thought I spoke of it."
"No," I said; "you did n't speak of it. You
said that it was a pleasant neighborhood. Per-
haps that is what you had in mind."
"Possibly," he answered. You have no
objection to giants, have you? "
I paused a moment before I replied. It de-
pended on the kind of giant. If it was one of
the Blunderbore kind, even a foot-ball player


might have been forgiven a slight preference
for ordinary-sized neighbors.
"Well," I said, at last, "I don't profess to be a
' Hop-o'-my-Thumb,' or 'Jack the Giant-killer.'
What sort of a giant is Mr. Megalopod ? "
"The very best the agent said. "We did
think of asking more rent for this house, be-
cause of the entertainment children would find
in seeing a giant or two every day. But we
decided we would n't charge for it, after all.
Mr. Megalopod is a thorough gentleman-and
so are the rest of the family. Mrs. Megalopod
and the children are charming in every way.
You will be glad to know them, I 'm sure.
The agent left me gazing at the footprint.
He had other business in the town, and I had
to take an early train for the city.
I thought that my wife and children would
be uneasy about the giants, but I was greatly
mistaken. They were eager to see the family,
and could hardly wait to be properly moved.
My son and daughter began to put on airs over
their playfellows, and to promise their best
friends that they might have the first chance to
come out and see the giant family.
When we first moved, the Megalopods were
absent from their house, and it was several
days before they returned. They lived in the
suburbs on purpose to avoid observation, and
usually went about their journeys by night so
as to attract as little attention as possible.
The first time I saw Mr. Megalopod was on
a Monday morning. I don't know why it is,
but I am more likely to be late on Monday
morning than on any other day of the week,
and I was late that morning. In fact, I should
have missed my train. for the city if it had not
been for Mr. Megalopod.
My way to the station passed near to his
enormous house. I walked just as fast as I
could, and if I had been a few years younger
I would have run. Just as I came opposite to
the giant's gateway I took out my watch; I
found I had just seven minutes in which to
catch the train. Now, although the advertise-
ment said our house was only three minutes'
walk from the station, it did n't occur to me
until afterward that the agent probably meant
it was three minutes' walk for Mr. Megalopod.

It certainly was a good ten minutes' scramble
for me. So, as I looked at my watch, I said
"Too late! I have lost the train. I would n't
have missed it for a hundred dollars! "
"Excuse me!" I heard in a tremendous
voice apparently coming from the clouds; "if
you will allow me, I will put you on the train!"
Before I could say a word, I was picked up
and raised some thirty or forty feet into the air,
and held safely and comfortably in the giant's
great hand. Then Mr. Megalopod started for
the station.
"You are Mr. Megalopod, I presume," I
"What? he said. "You see, I can't hear
you. Here is a speaking-trumpet."
So saying, he took a great fireman's-trumpet
from his vest-pocket, and offered it to me with
his other hand. I repeated my remark through
the trumpet, at the top of my lungs.
"Yes," he said. "You are our new neigh-
bor, no doubt."
"I am," I shouted; "and I 'm very glad
to make your acquaintance."
You 're not afraid of me ?" he asked with
a smile.
Not at all," I yelled back.
"That's pleasant," he said with much satis-
faction. "The last people moved away be-
cause they were afraid I might step on their
children. It 's absurd, I never step on chil-
dren. I would n't do such a thing!"
"Of course not! I shouted.
No. It would be an accident if I stepped
on anything. You yourself might step on an
ant or a beetle, you know. But I am very care-
ful. Well, here you are at the station," and he
put me gently on the platform. I seldom go
to the city, myself; and when I do I walk.
Good-by," I said; and I 'm much obliged
to you for the little lift."
"Don't mention it," he said. "I like to be
neighborly. Any time you 're in a hurry, let
me know."
S"Thank you," I replied. "I '11 do as much
for you-in some other way. Good-by."
Pardon me," said Mr. Megalopod, "but-
could you give me back the trumpet? You



won't need it in the city, unless you are a fire-
man, of course."
It was mere absence of mind," I called
through the trumpet; and then I gave it back
to him, and watched him take the two or three
steps that brought him to the turn in the road.
"A big fellow, is n't he?" I said to the
station agent.
"Yes," he said; "he's a fortune to the ex-
press company. Every time he has a pair of
boots sent home, it takes nearly a freight car."
The arrival of the train ended our conver-
I did n't see the Megalopods again for sev-
eral days. My family did, and told me many
interesting things about them. They seemed
to be very pleasant neighbors. Their children
met ours once or twice, while playing, and they
became excellent friends.
Before long they came to call upon us. We
used to sit on the lawn on chairs, of course--
Saturday afternoon and during the summer
evenings. They came one Saturday. We re-
ceived them cordially, but hardly knew how
to ask them to sit down. They talked pleas-
antly about the neighborhood, and spoke espe-
cially of the beautiful view.
You surprise me," I said. "It seems to me
that we are too much shut in here by the trees."
"I forgot," said Mrs. Megalopod, laughing.
" We can see over the trees."
"That is a great advantage," answered my
wife, through Mrs. Megalopod's trumpet; for
both giants were thoughtful enough to carry
these aids to conversation.
Oh, yes," replied the giantess; "size has
advantages. But, on the other hand, it brings
inconveniences. You can hardly imagine. Now,
take such a thing as next Monday's washing,
for instance. I have to do all our washing.
Even if we could afford to pay a laundress, she
would n't be able to manage our clothes, not
to speak of our table-cloths and other larger
pieces. Then, for a clothes-line, nothing will
serve us but a ship's cable. Then, too, every-
thing we have must be made to order. It is
hard to get along with so large a family. Some-
times I 'm tempted to let John go into a
museum; but so far we have succeeded in
keeping the museum manager from the door."

"What is your business?" I shouted to Mr.
Suspension bridges," he replied. It pays
well whenever I can get work; but they don't
build bridges every day in the week-I wish
they would!" and he laughed till the windows
rattled in the house near by.
"Careful, John," said Mrs. Megalopod,
warningly. Then turning to my wife she re-
marked, "John forgets sometimes that his
laughing is dangerous. He was in an office
building one day-in the great lower story,
one of the few buildings that has a door large
enough to let him in. Some one told a funny
story, and he began to laugh. It cost him
several hundred dollars to repair the windows.
So I have to remind him to be cautious when
he hears a really good joke."
Here my son Harry asked me to lend him
the trumpet for a minute.
"Mr. Megalopod," he called, "would you
mind doing me a great favor? "
"Not at all-if it is large enough," Mr. Me-
galopod replied very politely.
"Then will you get my ball for me? It
went up on the roof the other day, and it is in
the gutter now."
"Quick! give me the trumpet," I said to
Harry, as Mr. Megalopod rose. Then I
shouted, I beg you won't put yourself out for
such a trifle-!" but he was out of hearing be-
fore I had finished.
He soon returned with the ball, and gave it
to Harry.
"Lend me the trumpet, Papa," said Harry.
"I 'm much obliged to you," he shouted.
"Don't mention it," said the giant, seating
himself. I forgot to mention that while we
were deciding what to give them to sit upon-
we had thought of their sitting upon the top of
the piazza, but were afraid it would break down
with them-Mr. Megalopod had opened out a
sort of a walking-stick he carried, and made it
into a very comfortable stool, while his wife had
a similar portable chair. They were always
thoughtful and considerate, as, indeed, I might
have known from their speaking-trumpets. Do
you suppose, if you were a giant, you would re-
member to carry a speaking-trumpet for the use
of other people? It is such little traits as these


that endear giants to their friends. It is not you cared to keep up our acquaintance. If
hard to carry a speaking-trumpet in your vest- you did n't, I preferred not to force myself
pocket, but it is the remembering to do so that upon you."
shows the big-hearted giant. "Why, you must be laboring under a mis-
Soon after they had made their call upon us, take," I called back. "What have we done
my wife told me one morning, while I was shav- to offend you ? I was anxious to know, for
ing, that we ought to return the call soon. I did n't like to think of there being any un-
Of course," I said, stropping my razor pleasantness between ourselves and the giants.
slowly and thoughtfully. "Of course. I mean "I usually overlook trifles," said Mr. Mega-
to go very soon. Very soon. I had meant to lopod; "but when you did n't return our call,
go several days ago." I thought you meant that you did n't care to
"Yes. I know," said my wife. "But when continue the acquaintance!"
shall we go? To-morrow ? "My dear sir," I said hastily, "my wife left
"Well," I said, between strokes of the razor, cards."
"you see to-morrow is Saturday. And Oh, did she ?" said the giant, pleasantly.
as-it is-," here I stopped the razor, "the "Then I suppose Mrs. Megalopod did n't
only holiday I have during the week, I hardly
like to give it up to make a call."
Yes, dear," she-replied, but it is the only
time we have when we can go together."
Well, married men are not required to male
calls," I said.
"I suppose I can leave our cards," she sja J.
"Yes," I answered, eagerly, "that will .-lo
perfectly well." ', .
My wife did not seem pleased, but she Eaid '
no more then, and I finished my shaving. I
did n't cut myself again. -.,"
So she left our cards.
The next time I met Mr. Megalopodn ,,: .' .'. '' ..
about two weeks later. He did not return ni s ..
bow, and apparently did not see me. I went
and pulled his shoe-string, to attract his attern-
tion. He was pruning the top of a great chect- ,4, 'i' i:"
nut-tree that stood in his front yard.' I
He handed me the trumpet, but did not .
show in any other way that, ','.
he had noticed my presence. -
"Mr. Megalopod," I said,
"is there any trouble at your .- 'i
house ?' -
"Oh, no," he answered, .: .
shortly. -
"You did n't return my
to be a tone of reproach; but
it is very hard to put reproachful inflections notice them. They were put into the card-
into your voice when you are trying to shout tray, no doubt, and she must have failed to
loud enough to impress a giant. see them."
No," he said slowly; I did n't know that No doubt that's it," I said. "They were



only the usual size. I hope you will believe
that it was only an accident."
Certainly," he said; I had forgotten that
you are not used to our ways. Our friends
usually have cards written for them by sign-
painters on sheets of bristol-board. We are so
apt to lose the little cards."
"I see," I replied.
Shortly afterward my wife and I went to call
on the Megalapods. I cannot pretend to de-
scribe all the curious things in their house.
When we rang the bell,--the lower bell, for
there was one for ordinary-sized people,- we
nearly fell down the steps. There came the
peal of an enormous gong as big as those you
find in great terminal railroad stations. When
the door opened, it seemed as if the side of a
house had suddenly given way. The pattern
on the hall carpet showed roses four or five
feet wide, and the hat-stand was so high that
we never saw it at all. We walked under a
hall-chair, and thought its legs were pillars.
Just as we entered the reception-room we
heard a terrible shout: Oh, look out! and a
great worsted ball, some four feet in diameter,
almost rolled over us. The Megalopod baby
had thrown it to one of his brothers. It was a
narrow escape. The brother picked up the
baby to carry him away.
Oh, don't take the sweet little thing -"
my wife began; but she stopped there, for the
sweet little thing" was as large as two or three
ordinary men.
"Excuse me, ma'am," said the boy, "but we
can't trust baby with visitors. He puts every-
thing into his mouth, and-"
My wife cheerfully consented that the Mega-
lopod baby should be taken to the nursery
during our call.
Mrs. Megalopod offered us two tiny chairs.
They were evidently part of the children's play-
things. If you would rather sit in one of our
chairs," she suggested, "I shall be glad to assist
you to one, but I would rather not. To tell
the truth," she added, with some confusion,
"one of our visitors once fell from a foot-
stool, and broke his leg. Since then I have
preferred they should take these."
We took the small chairs. As it was dusk,
Mrs. Megalopod struck a match to light the

gas. It was a giant's parlor-match, and the
noise and burst of flame was like an explosion.
My wife clutched my arm in terror for a mo-
ment, while Mrs. Megalopod begged our par-
don and blamed herself for her thoughtlessness.
We had a very pleasant call, and the good
relations between the families were entirely
restored. In fact, as we were leaving, Mrs.
Megalopod promised to send my wife a cake
made by herself. It came later, and was.
brought by the Megalopod boy. By cutting it
into quarters, we got it through the front door
without breaking off more than five or six lumps
of a pound or two each. '.As it was a plum-
cake, it kept well. I think there is nearly a
barrelful of it left yet; but we reserve it for
visitors, as we got tired of plum-cake after a
year or so.
The Megalopods were always kind neigh-
bors. Once they did us a great service.
There was a farmer who lived in the valley
near us, and he owned a very cross bull. One
day the bull broke his chain, and came charg-
ing up the road just as my little boy was on his
way to school. I don't know what would have
been the result if the Megalopod baby (then
a well-grown child of about twenty-five feet)
had not come toddling down the road. The
bull was pursuing my boy, who was running for
his life. The baby giant had on red stock-
ings, and these attracted the bull's attention.
He charged on the baby, and tried to toss his
shoes. This amused the child considerably,
and he laughed at the bull's antics as an
ordinary baby might laugh at the snarling and
bitings of a toothless puppy.
"I take oo home," he said, and picking up
the angry bull, he toddled off down the road.
My boy came home much frightened, but
almost as much amused. I learned afterward
that Mr. Megalopod carried the bull back to the
farmer and gave the man a severe talking to.
But we felt grateful, and so we decided to
ask Mr. and Mrs. Megalopod to dinner. It
meant a great deal, as you will see; but as
we had just come into a large legacy from an
estate that had been in litigation for many
years, we took pleasure in showing our grati-
tude and our good-will toward the family.
First we had a large and elegant teething-ring


made to order for the baby. It was a foot
through and several feet in diameter. The
baby enjoyed it very much, and was somewhat
consoled for the loss of the bull, which he had
wished to keep as a pet.
I hired the sign-painter in a village not far
away to write out the invitation for us upon the
largest sheet of cardboard I could get in the
city. It was ten feet by fifteen in size, and
when inscribed looked truly hospitable. It read
as usual-requesting the presence of Mr. and
Mrs. Megalopod at dinner on the 2oth. We
had to send it by express. The expressman
wanted us to roll it; but I did n't think it
would be just the tiirn-. .:. it j.,_ sent fala in
an envelop made -pe:nlI\ tI r i. Th\ --rt
an acceptance ne.,il:, l .ir.-. ,nd' w'-r kind
enough to send ]lt-r an iiI!o.ral noi t, .'avina
that they would lrig; their w.:.i plate.. krIi\v,-:
and forks, and so o:n.

set the table.
I had told the butcher and other tradesmen
about the dinner, and they were to furnish
ample provision. I had expected that they
would be delighted to get the large orders; but
VOL. XXI.-42.

one of them explained to me that after all it
made no great difference. For," said he, "if
they had stayed at home, they would have
ordered the same things nearly, anyway." But
it was different with the confectioner. I ordered
forty gallons of ice-cream, two thousand maca-
roons, and eighty pounds of the best mixed
"It's for a large picnic ?" he suggested.
"The largest kind," I replied, for we were of
course to dine in the open air. In order to
provide against rain, I hired a second-hand


circus-tent, and had it set up in our front yard,
where the table had already been constructed
by a force of carpenters.
By stooping as they came in, and seating
themselves near the center, our guests were not
uncomfortable in the tent.
My wife and I had a smaller table and






chairs set upon the large table, and though we
did not feel altogether comfortable sitting with
our feet on the table-cloth, we did not quite see
how to avoid it.
The first course was much enjoyed, except
that Mr. Megalopod was so unlucky as to
upset his soup (served in a silver-plated metal
plate), and run the risk of drowning us. Mrs.
Megalopod, however, was adroit enough to
catch us up before the inundation overwhelmed
us. The giant apologized profusely, and we
insisted that it was of no consequence.
When we came to the turkeys (which Mrs.
Megalopod said were dainty little birds), I was
afraid Mr. Megalopod was not hungry, for he
could not finish the two dozen; but he ex-
plained that he seldom ate birds, as he pre-
ferred oxen. In the next course I found that
Mr. Megalopod was looking for the salt. I
handed him the salt-cellar, but it was too small
for him to hold.
"Have you any rock-salt ?" he asked with
frankness. I can never taste the fine salt."
Luckily we had bought a large quantity of




the coarsest salt for making ice-cream, and I
had several boxes brought, and sent up from
the ground on an elevator.
The waiter, frightened half out of his wits,
set the boxes as close to the giant as he dared
and tried hard not to run when moving away.
Strangely enough, the only thing that ran
short was the water. It would n't run fast

... .......

had made him thirsty. At last I sent down to
the Megalopods' house, and hired the giant's
boy to bring a pail (one of their pails-it was

about eight feet high) full of spring water. So
that little difficulty was pleasantly arranged.
After the dinner was over, the giants went
home, saying that they had never passed a
pleasanter afternoon.
We were equally pleased, and my wife said
that the most agreeable neighbors we had ever
known were certainly Mr. and Mrs. Megalopod.


"There is nothing small about them," I said,
warmly, "and they certainly take wide views
of everything."
Yes," she agreed, "even with our simple little
dinner they seemed immensely delighted."




WHOEVER acquires a fair general knowledge
of the quadrupeds of the entire North. Ameri-
can continent, from Lady Franklin Bay to the
Isthmus of Panama, will assuredly have a good
grasp on mammals in general of the whole
western hemisphere. While South America
has very many species all her own, a great
many of her most noteworthy forms stray north
of the isthmus, and will be caught in the net
we are now setting. To accomplish this good
purpose, we will consider Central America as
being a part of North America.

Before we set forth on our first hunt, how-
ever, we must note a few indispensable facts.
We have already learned the position of
the Class Mlammalia in the scale of classifica-
tion of the animal kingdom, and now we must
subdivide our class into its various smaller
groups. I shall not trouble you much with
classification, but it is really necessary that the
following should be known and remembered:
The Class Mammalia, or Mammals, is divided
into eleven great groups, called Orders,-and
here let me urge young readers of these papers
to memorize the names of these various orders,
and to clearly understand the meaning of each
title. It is worth something to be able to name
the order to which a strange mammal belongs,

from a moment's examination of its teeth and
If this were intended as a scientific treatise,
I would have to place the lowest forms of
mammals at the head of the list, and work
downward to the highest! But these papers
propose to take up the most interesting of all
God's creatures first. Therefore we will begin
with the highest orders of the mammalia, and
when you become a scientific student you can
easily reverse the order, and begin with the
microscopic forms of life, if you choose.

Any zoological Order is subject to division
and subdivision into groups growing smaller
and smaller until at last we reach a particular
species, and even a single individual with a
special history. It is necessary to know just
what these subdivisions are, and the rank of
Order ......CARNIVORA (the flesh-eaters).
Sub-order. .FISSIPEDIA (terrestrial flesh-eaters).
Family .... CANIDE (the dogs).
Sub-family.. None for this example.
Genus...... Canis (dog).
Species.....latrans (barking).
Sub-species None for this example.
Names in full: Canis latrans, Say. Coyote, Prairie Wolf
or Barking Wolf.

Name. Pronunciaion. Meaning in flain English. Exanmples.
BIMANA* .......(Bi-ma'na) .........Two-handed; erect...... Man.
QUADRUMANA... (Quad'ru-man-a) ... Four-handed; not erect..Apes, baboons, and monkeys.
CARNIVORA ..... (Car-niv'o-rah) ..... Flesh-eaters ............ Cats, dogs, bears, weasels, seals, sea-lions.
INSECTIVORA... (In-sec-tiv'o-rah) ...Insect-eaters........... Moles and shrews.
CHIROPTERA .... (Ki-rop'ter-ah) .... Wing-handed ........... Bats and flying-foxes.
RODENTIA ..... (Ro-den'shia) ...... Gnawers ............... Hares, gophers, rats, squirrels.
UNGULATA...... (Ung-gu-la'ta) .... Hoofed (chiefly) ........ Cattle, deer, hogs, sheep, tapirs, elephants.
CETACEA ........ (Se-ta's-a) ........ Whale-like ......... ... Whales, porpoises, dolphins.
SIRENIA ........ (Si-re'-na) ........ Sea-cows ............... Manatee and dugong.
EDENTATA ...... (E-den-td'ta) ....... Toothless (partly).. .... Armadillos, sloths, and ant-eaters.
MARSUPIALIA .(Mar-sfi-pi-a'li-a) ... Pouched .............. Opossums and kangaroos.
MONOTREMATA.. (Mon-o-trem'a-ta) ..Egg-laying ............. Platypus and spiny ant-eaters.
* Strict scientific accuracy might properly demand of us that man and the monkeys be grouped together in one order, called
PRIMATES, of which the sub-order Bimana includes man, and the sub-order Quadrumana would embrace the four-handed fellows.
To simplify the subject for the benefit of young readers, we will here follow the classification which ranks Bimana and Quadru-
mana as Orders.


It is the habit of scientific writers who are
writing for the benefit of one another, to add to
the Latin name of an animal either the name or
an abbreviation of the name of the person who
first described and correctly named the animal
in a printed book. In scientific writings this is
necessary, because it often happens that several
authors apply several names to a single animal.
So in the Coyote example the scientific student
will note the fact that the animal was first

described and correctly classified and named
by a Philadelphia naturalist named Thomas
Say, and a reference to one of his books will
show that the description appears in "Long's
Expedition to the Rocky Mountains," published
in 1823, volume I, page 168.
When the name of a species begins with a
capital letter, it is a quickly read sign that the
species has been named after some person or

!' i ."





F ~\rt&cx1

lE arte A:'t to: thle ( -ntral Anirrr:ai n tr.:ri:~., *:,n
-K ''\ r'V/ \\ 'J r.'1 1d n,:,nkey-,runt[. \\e don our ner\ liL'ht-
es-t nminier ,:,thii!nt -t :l ouir PNriniam 1ia[_.- and
I-, d be .i our f.rearns, ena ih Iu-ii nte v.ill nre-. a
g ,-..d st:,ur .t .. : ibu -k i ;r v. rl a keen
edge.-, \tt- i:ut hi- a\- ihro*tgl-i ithe Ic ay tingle
Srof monkey -larid. The ione of tle Aiien.:arn ni.'ikev ik one
/ vast and all-per\iading forc'r, i,:I.h ].reads ir- d'insc gr--n mari-
,tc o er sea-sli-,re, [plain. m iliey. and ni m untain. Here and ti.-:re
a n-,iow rent i lIt.:i, grudg;ngly erniough, by whi!,h the rivers rnm
-ee a :iL. of k ; but to i mailer streams e'. en tha[t poor I.riilege is7
denied: d Li the overtl-iangri aind iiterli.min bLrain,:les.
Our iunri.-ground for Norrli Air-. .ril n on rkei. be-inri in
"the land : ;.. ? ito-morr,. i, in dit Mi, '.,can rate of San
Lu- i P tosi, about latitude 2 -' n:.rth. It Ce:.tcnds .'l -:.t- iieast rd througli
the lienia caiienti, or hot lands, of Vera CruL to Oaxca, and thiline on

, -i A l

~ -




throw l:l [i- h,1,:.-r :f .
I i .\ ,,ri ri i4
t A I in.u, P i I,

i 'I
a .u---'---n '..2 ,

an Ienlk in ti r

THE H lb*.,- Lr

ti rg u n r inh
in iir I I ni' r!

let r o .f ne f and
ibra I- ill bL o

Sor .get : 1lhot ."t, the

our- in thil d s
'w 'o l .. .. i- i

No 1nvol..rj ilek, i3
i -1 r I: i i ; a ii,
: -- ---.' :. F. .

THE MANTLED HOWLER. (SEE PAGE 337.) who hunts monkeys
game be sought in forests so dense and lofty successfully in the tangled lowland forests, or
that even though we can hear their conversa- on the forest-clad mountains so common in


Central America, is a hunter worthy of the
name. It calls for good eyes, good legs, good
lungs, and good shooting. For monkey-hunt-
ing in high forests, a small rifle is absolutely
essential; but in moderately low jungle, a shot-
gun loaded with coarse shot is best. And now
for a plunge into the jungle. We will hunt our
North American monkeys in the order in which
they should be classified-from the highest
to the lowest. First, however, please note
the following facts:
No apes, baboons,
nor tailless monkeys
are found in the New
World. ,
No monkeys with
prehensile tails are
found in the Old ,
World; and whenever
an African or East In- j.
dian traveler tells you
how he saw monkeys
hang by their tails, tell .
him he 's another!
Not all American -
monkeys have prehen- -"
sile tails, but this char-
acter is possessed by
about one fourth of
Most American
monkeys can be dis-
tinguished from Old
World species by the
wide space, or septum,
between the nostrils.

A FEW days after
I first set foot in the
land of the golden
howler, there mingled
in the dreams I was
dreaming about four GEOFF
o'clock one morning, in the bottom of a dug-
out canoe, a sound from the depths of the forest
such as I had never before heard issue from throat
of beast or man. It was a resounding, deep
bass, a cross between a guttural roar and a song,

long-drawn and lazy in length, unearthly in
depth, but not wholly unmusical; rising and
falling in great waves of sound, rolling far and
wide through the forest and across the great
river in slowly measured cadence. Written
musically (!) it would be this:

S- 0-WOW 00 00- 00 WOW 00- 00-00 WOW I

It was a won't-go-home-till-morning concert,
a regular song, in fact, of several voices, mostly
basso profundo, and pitched away down in the
cellar at that. The singers were clearly two
miles distant from us, and I fully believe the



S rerr., aind, 1,.ein: ut
e pre.:sl Ir r]:e: i-

.;rid, killed f, u of
ti-ein. Tl ,. tell,. but
t1 i T r o thei ,

S 'r.ipped ti,: I r tai :i
ciL_'iit1 v i r-:,iu rIJ ti 1,
* r L wi-i nc -. died, innd
:tll li-hld :rn. Ar.:
lh,..-l [ini -\ -,:,':tii lin tl- l
S to h-ar by the in-
S,-.iunt. .rri il'iD ri .-,

h.,- th ,i CL Luiiil l m\
irieid J a:k :-.:r _i-, il.k -
i i c lii ,ed ui .i t
t ir e n- e t a. :i
S kicked then, iloo:c,
.L Lind senr rhi Im crasii-

IIr L *. !i.*. ,f D il,*p E.,
I *-E F ". : I

.:,ur- co-itil ha e been lie.irid
at least ci mile lrcth.r miie.
H..-:.. u;li a iep:h of 0 urind
* ::iuld >:,'m e Fr.:'ni tlir.:.it ,, nil:ii-
'; \i .-i : ; i_,.,' le t.:, 1m ..: u itil
tild t e',.cilniL I di:-ected ince
*, 1 ie .- oi n rs, a inil ii:u ,,iid i..e-
: .een i e*xitneirl e i deep ]I: r:r

Si i: er-la i, r...l Lirniv 1.'.t-i i.:r r,:,.
a... larc. : i I h'i.'si e- L. It i .a
re ill, a : .. iriion of1 a pi ri.n 11
f rle Ili,.: L. ne, ind formedd
a r:,,-ri'c t I:,un..I- :.; L .c o r the
hi-,% lei. S:' Ifr ja I kn:i.' hie
ni, i th1e d i, rin.-ti:on -:.,f l_.:iri
[lie soe o ncr .,11" tlis i-ndit:-
I'ul Ip ite rt.
ain r!I it i -er-t:i-Le-L l;",r ':a iretn
da1 i,' learned i)IIomrliI.I ele
i ill, : .- h,:,o i.! ,:,l_.,,,s r, d ...n. I n
l'."tii. [ I e i [I hl U l it e t II ..:.--
, .'.:" ,' rhe |i -l: rnrikll:- -ill ,;,! the
houi. in- ni-rike v. .\s ,e 1--al-
e'-ie laji the iho 're i I tli er:irl',
fiornrin-, r : t r tnic ii i 3.1 i -:op
01" Li[tteen hoicr% S, sltting
about in the open top of a big

t ..

* .9~~~

T ,i c





ing down. This was the golden howler of South
America, a big, ugly, black-faced, red-haired
fellow, weighing from twenty to thirty pounds,
and is the most typical form of the howlers.
THE MANTLED (so called because the hair
HOWLER on his flanks is so long it
(My-cites fa-ti-a'tins)* forms a sort of mantle), is
either brown-black or quite black in color,
though in different specimens there is much
variation in the intensity of the black or brown-
ish-black ground color, and the prevalence of
the brown tint on the back and hips. This
species is not found in Mexico, and is first
met with in eastern Honduras. It is found in
Nicaragua, on the shores and islands of Lake
Nicaragua. Thence its range extends south-
ward through Costa Rica, Veragua, and the
Isthmus of Panama, below which it is replaced
by the golden howler of the Orinoco region.
THE SHAGGY which, so far as known at pres-
HOWLER ent, is found only in eastern
(ly-cdies via-'sus) Guatemala, on the Atlantic
side of the great watershed, is perfectly black,
and his hair is so long and soft that the term
villosus, meaning shaggy or woolly, has been
applied to him by his discoverer as his "given
name." In its native country this species lives
around the Gulf of Dulce, along the rivers that
flow into it, and northward into the State of
La Paz, where it is most numerous in the dense,
dark, and gloomy forests on the mountains of
Chilasco, from 3000 to 6000 feet above the sea.
The natives call it "mono," which is the Span-
ish word for monkey.
The howling monkeys of all species have
about the same habits. In disposition and in-
telligence they are rather dull and sluggish, and
as pets they are not a success. They live in
troops of from five to fifteen, generally in the
tops of.the tallest trees, or else in the most tan-
gled and impenetrable portions of the lower
forests. Several that I. shot from my canoe on
the Cafio del Toro fell in places so choked with
leafy vines and creepers that it was utterly im-
possible to find them. In the early morning,

Naturalists who first describe and name a new ani-
mal always bestow upon it a Latin name for its genus,
and another for its species, because Latin names are the
only ones which pass current unchanged among the
scientists of all nations. Every language bestows its own
VOL. XXI.-43.

especially after a rainy night, it is a common
sight for a river voyager to see a band of howl-
ers sitting placidly in the top of a tree, taking
the sun. At such times they are easily ap-
proached, provided the jungle under-growth be
not wholly impenetrable.
The flesh of the howler is eaten by the
Indians of Central and South America, but on
account of the strong and disagreeable body
odor of the animal, I never cared to taste it,
even when half starved.


Right well named are the short-bodied, black-
skinned, and mostly black-haired sprawlers of
the tree-tops, with their tremendously long and
slender legs, hands, and tails. The tail is very
strongly prehensile, and far more useful to its
owner than a fifth leg would be. The spider-
monkeys have been very unfortunate, for Dame
Nature has given them no thumbs! Two spe-
cies have pluckily tried to grow thumbs for
themselves, but only the merest little thumblet
has appeared to reward their efforts.
All things considered, they are the liveliest,
brightest, and most interesting in their home
life of all the monkeys of the New World. In
captivity, whenever a number of monkeys of
different species are kept in one large cage, in
nearly every instance it will be noticed that the
most active swingers and climbers are the
Four species of spider-monkeys are found in
North America.
THE MEXICAN. is the only monkey found as
SPIDER-MONKEY far north as Mexico. Its
(Afe-les velle-ro'sus) home extends from the State
of San Luis Potosi, lat. 230 north, southeast-
ward through Vera Cruz, Oaxaca, and Chiapa,
into Guatemala, where it is found in great num-
bers on the sides of the volcano of Atitlan, as
high as seven thousand feet. The color of this
species is uniform black, varying to reddish-
brown on the back, with gray under parts.

common names upon animals, but the Latin names only
are universal. In papers Such as these the scientific
names must be given in order that the student of zoSlogy
may know exactly which species we are describing and


GEOFFROY'S varies in color from deep red-
SPIDER-MONKEY .dish-brown to light gray, or
(Ate-les Geoffroy-i) dirty white. It is found from
southern Nicaragua through Costa Rica, Vera-
gua, and Panama to South America. The Nic-
aragua Canal will be, when finished, very nearly
the northern boundary of this species, which is
most abundant in Costa Rica.
THE BLACK-FACED is black all over, body as
SPIDER-MONKEY well as face, and, like his
(At le-les a'ter) friend the RED-BELLIED SPI-
DER-MONKEY,* who is also black all over ex-
cepting his red under parts, is not found north
of Panama. Their proper home is in South
America, from Peru northward.
The habits of the spider-monkeys are very
interesting. The baby spider-monkey, like the
infant howler, clings fast to its mother's body
until old enough to travel alone, and keep up
with the band on its marches through the tree-
tops. The spider-monkeys are very much given
to hanging by the tail and fore legs, with the
hind legs swinging freely and most comically
in the air. If it is true, as has often been stated
in print, that spider-monkeys have been known
to cross small tropical rivers by constructing
a living suspension-bridge of themselves, then
that is one of the most wonderful feats of
intelligence ever displayed by wild monkeys.
But I think the statement needs confirmation.
The howlers and the spider-monkeys live on
fruits and leaves almost exclusively, and in the
fruit season are plump-bodied, and even fat.

PAJOU (a monkey named after a monk!), and
his near relatives, are some of the poor lit-
tle fellows who find the monkeys' purgatory
on this earth. They are les miserables who
go about with the organ-grinder, dance wlen
the chain is jerked, and pass the tiny hat
for the pennies. Poor little beggars! How
much better for a monkey is the hunter's bul-
let in the leafy jungle than the deadly hand-
organ on the hot pavement, and lifelong
As a household pet, or a captive in a zoo,
the Capuchin monkey is the prince of good
fellows. He is of good, comfortable size,

neither too small nor too large, fair in propor-
tions, active, intelligent, and docile, and decid-
edly affectionate. Many Old World monkeys
are treacherous and dangerous brutes; but so
far as his human friends are concerned, the
Capuchin is nearly always to be trusted. He
has a countenance like a pale, sad-looking old
man heavily burdened with care.
Out of a large cageful of monkeys of various
kinds that I once kept, the White-throated Sapa-
jou was the only thoroughly satisfactory inmate.
He was sincerely attached to me, and whenever
I came near him would purse out his wrinkled
lips and complain to me about his disagreeable
neighbors at a great rate. When frightened,
his shrill, rasping shrieks, and the expression of
his mobile face, made a representation of terror
so perfect that a tragic actor might well have
copied it. When coaxing his keeper for food
or attention, he would thrust out his lips until
they formed a funny-looking little tube, and
say in a plaintive tone, "Poo-oo-oo-oo!"
These graceful and interesting monkeys are
found in eastern Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa
Rica, Panama, and northern South America.
At home they are not nearly so active and
bold as the spider-monkey, doubtless because
they are not all legs and tail, like the spiders.
They not only eat fruit of all kinds, but are also
very fond of beetles and other insects, eggs,
and even young birds. The tail is prehensile,
but not powerfully so like that of the spider-

there are two species in Central America, one
of which, the RED-FOOTED variety,.t is found in
Nicaragua, and the other has thus far been
found only in Costa Rica. They are very
much alike, both very rare, and rather uninter-
esting because of their purely nocturnal habits.
They are about as large as a gray squirrel,
and the species called vociferans is covered with
a thick coat of long, silky hair of a grizzled
brown-and-white color. The eyes are very
large, and of a liquid brown color. One of
these little creatures which was sent from Pan-
ama to the National Museum, and there lived
in captivity, kept itself shut up like a jack-knife

Ate-les m-fi-ven'tris. t Ce'buzs hy-po-leu'cas. t Nyc" ti-pi-the'cus ru'fi-pes. Nyc't6i-pthe'cus vo-cif'er-ans.



all day long, but at night it was as lively as
any well-regulated monkey ought to be.

MONKEY,* is by far the most beautiful in form
and color of all the North American monkeys,
as well as being an interesting pet in captivity.
The length of the head and body is about
twelve inches, and the tail is about the same
length. In color the whole skull-cap is black;
the ears, face, neck, and throat are white; the
back is reddish brown; the sides of the body,
forearms, hands, and feet are ocher yellow; and
the arms, thighs, and upper two-thirds of the tail
are olive and gray. The tail is not prehensile,
and the outer third of it is covered with rather
bushy black hair, longest at the end.
I once owned a very near relative to the
species described above, a Teetee, but not this
identical species, which was about the size of a
gray squirrel, with the nervous activity and
sprightliness of three. I bought it of a sleepy
Indian in South America, and it proved to be
the plague of several people's lives.
He could perform one feat which I am sure
no other monkey can. He could easily climb
up the corner of a smoothly planed, square-
Chrys'o-thrix CEr'sted-i.

',,tThe JolIA ilezP

-: j I\ rJohn Erne5l: AcC6.nn.
,, ,i "--, I'!

,i '. ,i-i i.: r,,;jI l-,th mill wheel se6id,
.r,j t I:. ll..' ild miller laughed
, .g" r ,- e
I-' I I .v.i-r, t ,.h- tr-.: wouldd w e el:
..ur L r..d,

cornered door-casing simply by exerting pres-
sure in two directions with his hands and feet.
One evening in Demerara, I once saw, during
half an hour's paddling on the Essequibo River,
about sixty of these little fellows settling them-
selves for the night. They huddled close to-
gether on the large horizontal branches, like a
flock of sparrows, partly for company, and
partly for warmth. One that we shot and
roasted for supper proved to be better flavored
than any squirrel I ever ate. These monkeys
are so small they are not swift climbers in the
tree-tops, and although easy enough to shoot,
are desperately hard to find afterward.

Last and least of the North American mon-
keys is the little MARMOSET, or MIDAS MON-
KEY, whose home is really in South America,
but who has wandered as far north as the
Isthmus of.Panama. Like its numerous rela-
tives farther south, it is no larger than our
common red squirrel. The face and sides of
the head are almost naked, and in color this
little creature is grayish brown on its upper
parts, and whitish below. The top of the head
is pure white, and the nape and back of the
neck is reddish brown.
t Mi-das Geoffroy-i.

And butter .nd Lhinn.s .nd be&V -
1 inm gleeFully lad thaeL isis!':he. t -
said, *-v
And he lauhed kill his eyes danced '" .
ji5 inhi. head:
"The grinding in life suits me!" -




(A historical romance.)


I 'I.
/ABETTE sat in
the conservatory,
painting -paint-
Sing the great golden
-' roses there with the
glory of the morning
-iiI sunshine upon them.
Babette was not unlike
a golden rose herself as
S she sat there. She wore
L- a gown of soft yellow, a
color in which her artis-
tic fancy delighted. The
dancing sunbeams brought out the golden glints
lurking in the shadow of her curly brown hair.
But, best of all, one had only to look deep
down into her sweet dark eyes to see that
she had a heart of pure gold.
Yet up to that morning, when she painted
the roses in the conservatory, our little Babette
had not had a life of sunshine. When she was
born, she brought with her a cloud of disap-
pointment and dismay; and that cloud hung
over her still. All Babette's woe was due to
the fact that she had not come into the world
a boy. No light-hearted little lass in free
America, born to an equal share of love and
consideration with her brothers, can realize
what misery it meant to Babette to be a girl;
for her father was a baron of Prussia under
the great Frederick, and all the fair, broad
acres of smiling German landscape for miles
around his castle belonged to him. But, alas!
the great castle, the handsome estate, and all,
must one day fall into the hands of a stranger,
because they could be inherited only by a male
heir-and Babette had been born a girl.
So the tiny girl babe found the world a cold,
hard place where no welcome awaited her- not
even among her father's tenants and servants.

She had no mother to comfort her. Her father
was one of the generals who helped King
Frederick win his superb victories, and was
absent at war or at court most of the time.
On his rare, brief home visits, he was too much
occupied to notice his little daughter, or if she
were brought to his attention, he would merely
pat her head absently and say:
Yes, yes, thou art a good child, little Ba-
bette; but thou shouldst have been a boy!"
Then it would seem to Babette that her cup
of sorrow was full, and could not hold one drop
more of bitterness. She loved her father, and
longed, in her shy way, for the tender appro-
bation that he never gave.
The little Babette had been left to the un-
gentle hands of her stern Aunt Elise, who,
besides sharing in the general prejudice against
the child on account of her sex, regarded her
with disfavor for another reason: Babette's
mother had been a French lady, and Aunt
Elise hated the French. She had received the
pretty young bride from across the border with
such cold and repressive treatment that when
Babette came into the world, her mother, from
sheer discouragement and homesickness, left it.
Unfortunately for Babette's peace, she was the
picture of her dead mother and a thorough lit-
tle Frenchwoman in her sweet impulsiveness
and charming inconsistencies. All this Aunt
Elise hated-she hated the short dark curls
that waved about Babette's bright face, the
hair that would not grow long and smooth, and
could not be made to hang in flaxen braids like
a true German maiden's. Moreover, the soft
brown eyes were so like those of the homesick
little bride that they brought twinges of remorse
to Aunt Elise's soul; and this made Babette's
eyes all the more detestable to her for not being
German blue.
"It is n't so much that Aunt Elise can't for-
give me for not being a boy. I could under-


stand that. Dear father feels the same way,"
Babette would often say to herself, bitterly.
" But she thinks that even as a girl I am a
trial and a disappointment. Oh, I can't help
looking like my dear dead mama!-and I
can't help it because I would rather paint than
knit and embroider like Gretchen and Linda.
It is in me, somehow. But I
do love my country and good
King Frederick, for all that, and
I am-I am Prussian! If I had
only been a boy, for dear father's
sake! "
A true little artist, Babette was
much more skilful with the brush
than with the needle, and she
always preferred wandering about
the beautiful woods and parks
of her father's estate to sitting
quietly in the house by her aunt's
So Babette's short life of six-
teen years had been a stormy one.
Though she had a lovely home,
pretty clothes, servants to wait
upon her, and masters to teach
her languages, music, painting,
and everything that a lady of
the noble class should know, yet
she lacked the one essential of ;
On this particular morning, as
Babette's little hands were busy over her
painting of golden roses, her heart was very
heavy. Her father was at home on a flying
visit, and only the night before he had com-
plained regretfully that Babette was not a boy
so that she might join the army and help
the poor king drive back his innumerable
Babette had cried herself to sleep. Ah, why
must she be such a disappointment and humili-
ation, when her heart was so full of love for
them all and ached so with the longing to
serve them? This thought was surging over
and over in Babette's weary brain, when she
heard the voices of her father and his guest,
General Kuhland, as they strolled among the
palms at the other end of the conservatory.
It was the ever-memorable year 1758, when

Frederick the Great of Prussia stood like some
great mythic giant with all Europe snarling like
wolves about him, ready to devodr him. The


Russians, with that scourge of the East-the
Cossacks, were upon him, and the Austrians
encamped on his frontiers. Truly, those were
troublous times for Prussia, and no one real-
ized the fact more keenly than did Babette's
father, whose barony occupied an upper corner
of the little kingdom, near the border. He

had come with a detachment from the main
army to defend his ancestral acres.
"We are planning the attack for next Thurs-
day," Babette's father was saying to his friend.
" My troops are ready for a call at any mo-
ment; but there is one thing lacking to com-
plete our preparations. You know the old mill
up the river opposite my northeast forest-land ?
Well, I have not visited it since I was a boy,
so I can't be sure that there is still a room left
there with water-tight roofing. If there were,
we might smuggle provisions and ammunition
over there in readiness for the campaign. The
Russians, however, keep this border-land closely
guarded by bands of mounted Cossacks. I do
not venture to send any of my men across to
investigate; for, in case they are captured, the
fact that we have sent scouts will warn the
Russian rascals to be on the .watch for an at-
tack. Then our whole scheme would be
Babette, sitting with brush suspended, did
not hear General Kuhland's reply. She was
thinking of her father's words. The men could
not go, for that would warn the Russians. An
idea dawned in Babette's mind. She was not
a man-why could she not go across the river
and examine the ruins for her father? Even
if the Cossacks did capture her, that could not
possibly suggest an attack to the Russians.
There would be no risk to her father's plan
through her going.
The question she had been asking so sorrow-
fully all her life had its answer now. Why had
she been born a girl? Why, for this: to aid
her father in saving their beautiful home from
a ferocious enemy-ay, more than that, she
would be helping the good King Frederick in
his mortal struggle with his foes. All this she
could do, and could do only because she was a
The sweet, ruddy color deepened in Ba-
bette's cheeks as her determination grew. She
would prove that she did love the dear fa-
therland, even though Aunt Elise told her
every day that she was no true German
maiden, but had inherited entirely from her
French mother's side. Babette's breath came
and went so fast, she did not notice that her
father and General Kuhland had appeared

from behind the palms and stood gazing at her
as she painted feverishly on her roses.
Ah-h behold the spirit of the sunshine! "
said the courtly old general, bowing low before
Babette's father looked down kindly upon
his daughter.
"Mein liebling, I did not see you there. I
must have taken you for one of those fabulous
rosebuds that Hans the gardener has been tell-
ing me about."
A gentle word from her busy father could
always brighten the world for Babette. She
looked up with a shy blush and smiled.
In a few minutes she escaped to her own
little tower-room, and ran to the casement to.
"plan her expedition."
At some distance from the mansion, a stream
wound in and out like a silver thread through
the green fields. To the chance visitor at the
castle, this stream had an interest beyond the
beauty that it added to the view, for it formed
the boundary line between Prussia and Russia.
Its opposite banks were aliens and enemies to
each other. Babette was thinking of this one
day as she drifted in her boat along the Ger-
man side.
"It is a good thing," she concluded men-
tally, "that the river talks a language of its
own, so that those Russian daisies over there
and the dear little German forget-me-nots on
this side can both understand what these little
waves are whispering about."
Many a delightful hour had Babette dreamed
away in the old scow on the river, but she de-
cided that it must serve her for another purpose
this morning. She must slip away from the
castle prepared for a sketching trip, to avoid
inquiry. She would hasten to the northeast
woods, row the scow across the river to the
Russian side, land, make her investigations at
the old mill, and hasten back before her father
and General Kuhland returned to camp head-
Babette gathered together her painting-ma-
terials, then stopped to pin a little note on her
pillow, for Father to read if I do not come
back "- and even brave little Babette shud-
dered at the possibility. She well knew how
war prisoners were treated by Cossacks, for



1894.] BABE'
neither youth nor womanhood gained mercy
from that fierce and barbarous people.
Aunt Elise sat embroidering at the window
of the sunny morning-room as Babette passed
by on her way to the river.
Where are you going now, Wilhelmina ?"
she asked fretfully.
She always called Babette by her baptismal
name, never condescending to use the little
French nickname her father had given her be-
cause it was her mother's.
"I am going out to the northeast woods,
Aunt Elise. There will be plenty to sketch
there such a lovely morning. The sunshine is
so bright, and the little shadows are so deli-
cious," added Babette dreamily, thinking of the
old scow floating at its moorings under the
Aunt Elise looked at the picturesque small
figure in the yellow gown and demure little cap
of velvet and pearls, and the vision of that con-
ventional, flaxen-haired, ideal niece of hers rose
to vex her mind.
Well," she snapped, you never will be like
other girls-content to stay in the house and
learn something that is useful; but you must al-
ways be roaming about the country. What

TTE. 343
As she-was about to jump into the boat, she
hesitated whether to leave her easel and paint-
box behind or not. She thought at first they
would only be in her way. The next moment,
however, she turned back and threw them in.
"Now," she said to herself, as she pushed
off, "if the Cossacks come and find me only
painting, perhaps they will. think that is harm-
less and let me alone."
Babette had an active brain under that thatch
of wayward brown curls.

BABETTE paddled the scow slowly across the
river, selected a good place to land, and then
cautiously crept up the forbidden bank. As it
was war-time, no Prussian had any right upon
that soil, even if the trespasser was but a few
rods away from his own ground.
Babette with a beating heart stole softly
through the woods along the riverside. She
almost prayed that the branches and shrubs
might not crackle under her feet. Her every
sense was on the alert. Once she startled a
timid gray rabbit in the wood; and he in turn
made her heart jump when he leaped through
some dry, fallen twigs. But she began to -feel

could I expect
You 're not a -
German." i '
Then poor .' 0" ,'
Babette, stung .. ,( ;
to the quick, '- i' \
grasped her- \ -kt-
paint- brushes -. j
convulsively P .
and fled. Her
aunt's words -t. .- ,
had clinched -- -
her purpose if -- .
she had been' ,,
inclined to
thought of
capture by the Cossacks. She sped through more reassured when she reached the little foot-
the woodland, and was soon standing under the path leading to the ruins of the old mill, for still
willows where the glimmering sunbeams and no one was in sight.
the dancing little shadows were delicious," as The ancient stone pile stood near the edge of
she had said. the river; it had long been deserted and use-

less, but the ivy and beautiful red trumpet-
creepers had seized upon it and made it their
own as soon as man had forsaken it. Babette
entered cautiously at the weather-beaten en-
trance, over which drooped the long trailing
vines. She began to examine the premises
The main part of the building, where the
grain had been ground, was entirely unroofed,
and the blue sky arched over it; a soft carpet
of green moss covered the stone flagging of the
floor; here and there, parts of the walls were
gone, and through these loopholes glimpses of
the silvery waters of the river were to be seen.
Babette sighed: "I am afraid it will do
Father no good, after all. It is beautiful, but
ruined utterly."
The rest of the one-story building seemed to
have been used as a kind of store-room for the
grain-sacks. This part was in a state of worse
dilapidation than the main wing. Babette was
bitterly disappointed. It had not occurred to
her that her errand might be a fruitless one
even if she escaped detection. With these
thoughts in her mind, she was standing looking
away through a broad gap in the wall to the
leafy aisle of woodland bordering the river.
Suddenly she said to herself: "I wonder
what can be seen from that high opening in the
other wall, over there-above this great pile of
stones. I believe I will climb up and see. There
must be a view of the river on that side."
Up Babette sprang from one stone to the
other, like a gigantic, tawny squirrel, and at last
she could peer through the opening. There, to
her surprise, she found that she was looking
down into what had once been in all probabil-
ity the mill-owner's little private office.
It opened only into the store-room, and had
no direct communication with the main part of
the mill. The one entrance to the store-room was
blocked by the fallen walls, and had escaped Ba-
bette's notice. She observed with joy that this
room was in a better condition than the rest of
the building. To be sure, the floor was partially
gone, and Babette, looking down through the
hole, could see the old water-wheel, moss-
covered, but gay in its silent old age with the
scarlet blossoms of a day. True, there was a
place where the window had once been, but

it could easily be boarded over or blocked up.
And as for the hole in the floor, that could do
no harm, for the rest of the flagging was strong
and safe, the supports underneath being firm
still. Nay, this very hole might be of excellent
service, since the men with the stores of powder
could creep from the riverside, past the old
water-wheel, to the ruins, and hand up their
treasure through the hole to one of their num-
ber above in the room.
Babette's quick mind grasped these possibili-
ties at once. Then she perched herself on her
lofty pinnacle of stones, and drew a plan of the
ruin, showing especially the position and capa-
bilities of the miller's office. The soft breeze
from the river stirred the damp curls about
Babette's flushed face. The gay red trumpets
at the small window nodded knowingly, as if.
they would say:
"We knew it all the while-we knew it-we
knew it!"
Babette's heart beat happily now, and every-
thing seemed to accord with her mood. How
glad and proud she should be to show that plan
to her father, with Aunt Elise and General
Kuhland standing by! She folded the paper
and hid it inside the bosom of her gown. That
done, she decided to descend and sketch the
approach from the river-bank, past the mill-
Babette felt very safe down behind the ruins,
securely hidden from the sight of any one in
the path above. So, when she had finished the
second drawing for her father's inspection, she
could not resist the temptation to sketch the
mossy old wheel. Then she wanted to try her
hand at the colors, and set up her easel and
fell to work painting. The artist in Babette
was uppermost now, and her fears were for-
gotten. No sound broke the stillness except
the murmur of the little ripples on the shore.
Surely there could be no danger in staying just
a little longer. "There is nothing like this for
beauty on our side," she murmured to herself.
Ah, Babette, Babette, if only the pretty red
trumpets waving in the breeze from the height
of the old mill-tower could have whispered to
you that they saw, far off along the plain, a tiny
cloud of dust which grew larger and larger!
But Babette's brown curls bent low over her




work, and the friendly red trumpets nodded and
beckoned their warning in vain. She was ab-
sorbed in mixing her colors to get just the right
shades of gray and green combined in the pic-
turesque old wheel, when she became conscious

"There is n't time to get away. They must
find me painting," she gasped, and fell to work
Fate had doomed Babette to discovery; for
had she remained above in the heart of the ruins

-LU 1 L T r1 Al l
.E. Coill-x OLD G I4 'K *1
--. iC ."

of the sound of horses' feet on the highway
above. Her heart stood still. It must be the
Cossacks! Oh, why had she not gone before,
when she might safely have done so? she would not have been seen. But the Cos-
Voices soon reached Babette's ear. She sacks, for such the new-comers were, decided to
picked up her brushes, which she had thrown lead their horses to water at the river and then
down in her first terror. rest themselves awhile in the shade behind the
VOL. XXI.-44.

old mill, as it was hot and dusty riding that day. and mustachios, and outlandish caps! The
Soon, therefore, six or seven tall, savage-looking tallest and gauntest Cossack rushed forward to
figures issued from around the corner of the mill. seize Babette. He was about to clutch her arm,
They tied their horses to some trees, and lay when Babette raised her brush and coolly drew
down near by. Babette could hear them jab- it across the intruder's face, painting a wide
being away in their strange guttural fashion. scarlet streak upon his cheek. The fellow
By and by one of these gigantic sons of Mars stumbled back in confusion at this novel attack,
happened to turn his lazy length over, and in while his companions roared in derision. Then
so doing caught a glimpse of Babette's yellow they all caught sight of Babette's picture. In
gown. He spoke a few words to his compan- an instant the expression of the whole group
ions, and the group was instantly alive with in- was transformed from the ferocity of the wild
terest. Babette heard them approach; the evil beast to the eager curiosity of the small child.
day was upon her. But, somehow, in the face In a twinkling of the eye, the wild Cossacks of
of real danger there arose in Babette's heart a the plains were tamed.. They had never seen
feeling of courage which made her ready for a picture before!
any fate. For she was the daughter of a race Babette was soon startled by a wolf-like vis-
of warriors who had fought by the side of the age peering over her shoulder, then another-
rulers of Prussia for many generations. and another, until the whole group had crowded
around her, silently, almost breathlessly,
watching her put in rapid strokes to fin-
ish the picture.
A strong wind began to blow, and it
hindered Babette. It threatened to blow
away easel, picture, and all. By signs
i she made the giant Cossack leader
understand that she wished him to
steady the easel and hold down the
Si refractory picture upon it. He obeyed
without a word, and stood patiently
S- while Babette went on painting uncon-
., B cernedly. For what need she fear, who
7'' I could control even the barbarous Cos-
"' sack? Vain little Babette! It is not
you, but curiosity, that has completed
S this marvelous conquest. The wild Cos-
'" sack will lay aside his native ferocity
any time to gratify his ruling passion,
the desire to investigate.
When the picture was done, Babette
arose and gave it to one of the Cossacks.
While they were all quarreling violently
as to which of them should have the
treasure, Babette gathered up her traps
c ; -" and hastened away through the woods.
The soldiers in their noisy altercation
BABETTE RAISED HER BRUSH AND COOLLY DREW IT ACROSS did not notice her flight until it was too
THE INTRUDER'S FACE." late, for Babette was just pushing the
The half-dozen grim and cruel faces were old scow off into the stream again.
very near now. Such a wild, unkempt-looking It was not long, you may be sure, before
company they were, with their matted beards Babette was safe on German territory once more.




H .:.. tlie ltui hc ,:I' .-d .;,r,,- ir,,:.i1- r ':.er
B H:eL '. re0 ,r-:r 1 iii:J 1 l,-rk-.' --k r 1-1.;e -t.i3
F.:, !, c..l ; r:,.-y r ,:,l.,i r: reir, i, r,:,.: .- h, a::,3

h!jI.ls ,. iri hi r i r.- i.-_ ,--. tiid |.r:i.-ed hci *.r
Ih r _.ti.:7o ri ir i. ,r :.:.uni Ev. -n Aunt Eli-.e
i.i L-r, 'rr rr ri I -i :uC l U :'i lC.-
n -i rn ii r, r -i J c ,.> ni il, | !.;.t
A d"--'" lnkiir'iI,
H.-.,, iiirl1 and'.I n ar
,_ rcit : .in \ .--u
I ~I'll ''i t z ri~ r ill Io r

"~ [ -, L,,ir:r i' r,:, tl "
-t i-. i i'' i_- ,,c.
I-4il! -it [!ie .-.-i l .
'\ir F iCe
.r. 1. l.:.;-..J .ir.;j l1,:r v rli i >i ; : t tlk ir, i_" |.,.;,hlU .;:
,i.lh ilenerCal lKuhland. Labctte's auril
were flying and her eyes sparkled.

" TH

Oh, Father," she cried, "I have a dia-
gram of the old mill on the Russian side, and it
is safe for use! I heard you talking about it in
the conservatory this morning, and I thought it
would n't make any difference if I were cap-
tured, because -because," here the sobs would
come up in brave little Babette's throat, though
she had not wept to see the fierce Cossack -
"because nobody wanted me here at home--
because I-I am a girl."
And Babette finished her story with a con-
fused burst of tears.
The next moment Babette found herself
where she had so often longed to be-in her fa-
ther's arms, and he was looking at her with
pride and tenderness shining in his eyes. He
led his daughter to the old warrior on the other
side of the table.
General," he said, here is one whom Prus-
sia may be proud to call her own! "


gown!" It was the happiest moment in Ba-
bette's life.
She then explained the plans which she had
drawn. There was nothing lacking in the de-
scription, every detail was as clear as noonday.
She ought to have been a boy!" exclaimed
General Kuhland. What rare campaigns she
would plan-and execute too! She ought to
have been a boy!"
"And, by my sword, she shall be -or as
good as one! cried the great Frederick when
he heard of her exploit, for he knew the shadow
that hung over Babette's home-the lack of a
So, under his own hand and seal, the good
king cut off the entail in the succession to the
estates, as they express it; and little Babette,
by a stroke of the royal pen, became, in law, a
boy, and heir to all her father's possessions.



[Beguinin tke November number.]

WE had an early breakfast in the morning,
and set looking down on the desert, and the
weather was ever so bammy and lovely, although
we war n't high up. You have to come down
lower and lower after sundown, in the desert,
because it cools off so fast; and so, by the time
it is getting towards dawn you are skimming
along only a little ways above the sand.
We was watching the shadder of the balloon
slide along the ground, and now and then gaz-
ing off across the desert to see if anything was
stirring, and then down at the shadder again,
when all of a sudden almost right under us we
see a lot of men and camels laying scattered
about, perfectly quiet, like they was asleep.
We shut off the power, and backed up and
stood over them, and then we see that they was
all dead. It give us the cold shivers. And it
made us hush down, too, and talk low, like peo-
ple at a funeral. We dropped down slow, and
stopped, and me and Tom dumb down and
went amongst them. There was men, and wo-
men, and children. They was dried by the sun
and dark and shriveled and leathery, like the
pictures of mummies you see in books. And
yet they looked just as human, you would n't 'a'
believed it; just like they was asleep.
Some of the people and animals was partly
covered with sand, but most of them not, for
the sand was thin there, and the bed was
gravel, and hard. Most of the clothes had
rotted away; and when you took hold of
a rag, it tore with a touch, like spider-web.
Tom reckoned they had been laying there for
Some of the men had rusty guns by them,
some had swords on and had shawl belts with
long silver-mounted pistols stuck in them. All
the camels had their loads on, yet, but the packs
had busted or rotted and- spilt the freight out

on the ground. We did n't reckon the swords
was any good to the dead people any more, so
we took one apiece, and some pistols. We took
a small box, too, because it was so handsome
and inlaid so fine; and then we wanted to bury
the people; but there war n't no way to do it
that we could think of, and nothing to do it
with but sand, and that would blow away again,
of course.
Then we mounted high and sailed away, and
pretty soon that black spot on the sand was out
of sight and we would n't ever see them poor
people again in this world. We wondered, and
reasoned, and tried to guess how they come to
be there, and how it all happened to them, but
we could n't make it out. First we thought
maybe they got lost, and wandered around and
about till their food and water give out and
they starved to death; but Tom said no wild
animals nor vultures had n't meddled with them,
and so that guess would n't do. So at last we
give it up, and judged we would n't think about
it no more, because it made us low-spirited.
Then we opened the box, and it had gems
and jewels in it, quite a pile, and some little
veils of the kind the dead women had on, with
fringes made out of curious gold money that we
war n't acquainted with. We wondered if we
better go and try to find them again and give
it back; but Tom thought it over and said no,
it was a country that was full of robbers, and
they would come and steal it, and then the sin
would be on us for putting the temptation in
their way. So we went on; but I wished we
had took all they had, so there would n't 'a'
been no temptation at all left.
We had had two hours of that blazing wea-
ther down there, and was dreadful thirsty when
we got aboard again. We went straight for
the water, but it was spoiled and bitter, besides
being pretty near hot enough to scald your
mouth. We could n't drink it. It was Missis-
sippi river water, the best in the world, and we


stirred up the mud in it to see if that would
help, but no, the mud was n't any better than
the water.
Well, we had n't been so very, very thirsty
before, whilst we was interested in the lost
people, but we was, now, and as soon as we
found we could n't have a drink, we was more
than thirty-five times as thirsty as we was a


we could n't hold them any more. Two
hours-three hours-just gazing and gazing,
and nothing but sand, sand, sand, and you
could see the quivering heat-shimmer playing
over it. Dear, dear, a body don't know what
real misery is till he is thirsty all the way
through and is certain he ain't ever going to
come to any water any more. At last I

h J I

4,). N2-

' I


quarter of a minute before. Why, in a little
while we wanted to hold our mouths open and
pant like a dog.
Tom said to keep a sharp lookout, all around,
everywhere, because we 'd got to find an oasis
or there war n't no telling what would happen.
So we done it. We kept the glasses gliding
around all the time, till our arms got so tired

could n't stand it to look around on them bak-
ing plains; I laid down on the locker, and
give it up.
But by and by Tom raised a whoop, and
there she was! A lake, wide and shiny, with
pam-trees leaning over it asleep, and their
shadders in the water just as soft and delicate
as ever you see. I never see anything look so




good. It was a long ways off, but that war n't
anything to us; we just slapped on a hundred-
mile gait, and calculated to be there in seven
minutes; but she stayed the same old distance
away, all the time; we could n't seem to gain
on her; yes, sir, just as far, and shiny, and
like a dream; but we could n't get no nearer;
and at last, all of a sudden, she was gone!
Tom's eyes took a spread, and he says-
Boys, it was a myridge! Said it like he
was glad. I did n't see nothing to be glad
about. I says-
"May be. I don't care nothing about its
name, the thing I want to know is, what 's
become of it ? "
Jim was trembling all over, and so scared he
could n't speak, but he wanted to ask that
question himself if he could 'a' done it. Tom
says -
What 's become of it ? Why, you see, your-
self, it 's gone."
Yes, I know; but where 's it gone to "
He looked me over and says-
"Well, now, Huck Finn, where would it go
to ? Don't you know what a myridge is ?"
No, I don't. What is it? "
"It ain't anything but imagination. There
ain't anything to it."
It warmed me up a little to hear him talk
like that, and I says-
"What 's the use you talking that kind of
stuff, Tom Sawyer? Did n't I see the lake? "
"Yes- you think you did."
"I don't think nothing about it, I did see it."
"I tell you you didn't see it, either-because
it war n't there to see."
It astonished Jim to hear him talk so, and
he broke in and says, kind of pleading and
Mars' Tom, please don't say sich things in
sich an awful time as dis. You ain't only
reskin' yo' own self, but you 's reskin' us -
same way like Anna Nias en' Siffira. De lake
wuz dah I seen it jis' as plain as I sees you
en Huck dis minute."
I says-
"Why, he seen it himself! He was the very
one that seen it first. Now, then! "
"Yes, Mars' Tom, hit 's so- you can't deny
it. We all seen it, en dat prove it was dah."

"Proves it! How does it prove it ? "
"Same way it does in de courts en every-
wheres, Mars' Tom. One pusson might be
drunk, or dreamy or suthin', en he could be
mistaken; en two might, maybe; but I tell
you, sah, when three sees a thing, drunk er
sober, it 's so. Dey ain't no gittin' around' dat,
en you knows it, Mars' Tom."
"I don't know nothing of the kind. There
used to be forty thousand million people that
seen the sun move from one side of the sky to
the other every day. Did that prove that the
sun done it?"
"'Course it did. En besides, dey war n't no
'casion to prove it. A body 'at 's got any sense
ain't gwine to doubt it. Dah she is, now-
a sailin' thoo de sky, like she allays done."
Tom turned on me, then, and says-
"What do you say-is the sun standing
still? "
"Tom Sawyer, what 's the use to ask such a
jackass question? Anybody that ain't blind
can see it don't stand still."
"Well," he says, "I 'm lost in the sky with
no company but a passel of low-down animals
that don't know no more than the head boss
of a university did three or four hundred years
It war n't fair play, and I let him know it.
I says-
"Throwin' mud ain't arguin', Tom Sawyer."
"Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness gra-
cious, dah 's de lake ag'in!" yelled Jim, just
then. "Now, Mars' Tom, what you gwine to
say ?"
Yes, sir, there was the lake again, away yon-
der across the desert, perfectly plain, trees and
all, just the same as it was before. I says-
"I reckon you're satisfied now, Tom Saw-
But he says, perfectly ca'm-
"Yes, satisfied there ain't no lake there."
Jim says-
"Don't talk so, Mars' Tom-it sk'yers me to
hear you. It 's so hot, en you 's so thirsty, dat
you ain't in yo' right mine, Mars' Tom. Oh,
but don't she look good! 'clah I doan' know
how I 's gwine to wait tell we gits dah, I 's so
Well, you '11 have to wait; and it won't do


you no good, either, because there ain't no lake
there, I tell you."
I says -
"Jim, don't you take your eye off of it, and
I won't, either."
"'Deed I won't; en bless you, honey, I
could n't ef I wanted to."
We went a-tearing'aIong toward it, piling the
miles behind us like nothing, but never gaining
an inch on it and all of a sudden it was gone
again! Jim staggered, and most fell down.
When he got his breath he says, gasping like
a fish -
Mars Tom, hit 's a ghos', dat 's what it is,
en I hopes to goodness we ain't gwine to see it
no mo'. Dey 's been a lake, en suthin 's hap-
pened, en de lake 's dead, en we 's seen its
ghos'; we 's seen it twiste, en dat 's proof. De
desert's ha'nted, it 's ha'nted, sho'; oh, Mars
Tom, le's git outen it; I 'd ruther die den have
de night ketch us in it ag'in en de ghos' er dat
lake come a-mournin' around' us en we asleep
en doan know de danger we 's in."
"Ghost, you gander It ain't anything but
air and heat and thirstiness pasted together
by a person's imagination. If I-gimme the
glass "
He grabbed it and begun to gaze off to the
"It's a flock of birds," he says. It 's get-

ting toward sundown, and they 're making a
bee-line across our track for somewhere. They
mean business maybe they 're going for
food or water, or both. Let her go to star-
board!- Port your hellum! Hard down!
There ease up steady, as you go."
We shut down
some of the power,
so as not to outspeed
them, and took out
after them. We went
skimming along a
quarter of a mile be-
hind them, and when
we had followed them
an hour and a half .
and was getting
pretty discouraged,
and was thirsty clear
to unendurableness,
Tom says--
"Take the glass, ,"
one of you, and see
what that is, away
ahead of the birds."
Jim got the first
Glimpse, and slumped
down on the locker,
sick. He was most \
crying, and says- '





"She 's dah agi'n, Mars Tom, she 's dah
ag'in, en I knows I 's gwine to die, 'case when
a body sees a ghos' de third time, dat 's what
it means. I wisht I 'd never come in dis bal-
loon, dat I does."
He would n't look no more, and what he said
made me afraid, too, because I knowed it was
true, for that has always been the way with
ghosts; so then I would n't look any more,
either. Both of us begged Tom to turn off
and go some other way, but he would n't, and
said we was ignorant superstitious blatherskites.
Yes, and he '11 git come up with, one of these
days, I says to myself, insulting ghosts that
way. They '11 stand it for a while, maybe, but
they won't stand it always, for anybody that
knows about ghosts knows how easy they are
hurt, and how revengeful they are.
So we was all quiet and still, Jim and me
being scared, and Tom busy. By and by Tom
fetched the balloon to a standstill, and says--
"Now get up and look, you sapheads."
We done it, and there was the sure-enough
water right under us!--clear, and blue, and
-cool, and deep, and wavy with the breeze, the
loveliest sight that ever was. And all about
it was .grassy banks, and flowers, and shady
groves of big trees, looped together with vines,
and all looking so peaceful and comfortable,
enough to make a body cry, it was so beautiful.
Jim did cry, and rip and dance and carry on,
he was so thankful and out of his mind for joy.
It was my watch, so I had to stay by the
works, but Tom and Jim dumb down and
drunk a barrel apiece, and fetched me up a lot,
and I 've tasted a many a good thing in my
life, but nothing that ever begun with that
Then we went down and had a swim, and
then Tom came up and spelled me, and me
and Jim had a swim, and then Jim spelled
Tom, and me and Tom had a foot-race and a
boxing-mill, and I don't reckon I ever had
such a good time in my life. It war n't so
very hot, because it was close on to evening,
and we had n't any clothes on, anyway. Clothes
is well enough in school, and.in towns, and at
balls, too, but there ain't no sense in them
when there ain't no civilization nor other kinds
of bothers and fussiness around.
VOL. XXI.-45.

"Lions a-comin'! -lions! Quick, Mars
Tom, jump for yo' life, Huck!"
Oh, and did n't we We never stopped for
clothes, but waltzed up the ladder just so.
Jim lost his head straight off-he always done
it whenever he got excited and scared; and so
now, 'stead of just easing the ladder up from
the ground a little, so the animals couldn't
reach it, he turned on a raft of power, and
we went whizzing up and was dangling in
the sky before he got his wits together and
seen what a foolish thing he was doing. Then
he stopped her, but he had clean forgot what
to do next; so there we was, so high that the
lions looked like pups, and we was drifting off
on the wind.
But Tom he shinned up and went for the
works and begun to slant her down, and back
towards the lake, where the animals was gather-
ing like a camp-meeting, and I judged he had
lost his head, too; for he knowed I was too
scared to climb, and did he want to dump me
among the tigers and things ?
But no, his head was level, he knowed what
he was about. He swooped down to within
thirty or forty feet of the lake, and stopped
right over the center, and sung out.-
"Leggo, and drop "
I done it, and shot down, feet first, and
seemed to go about a mile toward the bottom;
and when I come up, he says -
Now lay on your back and float till you 're
rested and got your pluck back, then I '11 dip
the ladder in the water and you can climb
I done it. Now that was ever so smart in
Tom, because if he had started off somewhere
else to drop down on the sand, the menagerie
would 'a' come along, too, and might 'a' kept
us hunting a safe place till I got tuckered out
and fell.
And all this time the lions and tigers was
sorting out the clothes, and trying to divide
them up so there would be some for all, but
there was a misunderstanding about it some-
wheres, on accounts of some of them trying to
hog more than their share; so there was an-
other insurrection, and you never see anything
like it in the world. There must 'a' been fifty
of them, all mixed up together, snorting and



roaring and snapping and biting and tearing,
legs and tails in the air and you could n't tell
which was which, and the sand and fur a-flying.
And when they got done, some was dead, and
some was limping off crippled, and the rest was
setting around on the battle-field, some of them
licking their sore places and the others looking
up -at us and seemed to be kind of inviting us
to come down and have some fun, but which
we did n't want any.
As for the clothes, they war n't any, any
more. Every last rag of them was inside of the
animals; and not agreeing with them very well,
I don't reckon, for there was considerable many
brass buttons on them, and there was knives in
the pockets, too, and smoking-tobacco, and
nails and chalk and marbles and fish-hooks and
things. But I was n't caring. All that was
bothering me was, that all we had, now, was the
Professor's clothes, a big enough assortment,
but not suitable to go into company with, if we
came across any, because the britches was as
long as tunnels, and the coats and things ac-
cording. Still, there was everything a tailor
needed, and Jim was a kind of jack-legged
tailor, and he allowed he could soon trim a suit
or two down for us that would answer.

STILL, we thought we would drop down
there a minute, but on another errand. Most
of the Professor's cargo of food was put up in
cans, in the new way that somebody had just
invented, the rest was fresh. When you fetch
Missouri beefsteak to the Great Sahara, you
want to be particular and stay up in the coolish
weather. So we reckoned we would drop down
into the lion market and see how we could
make out there.
We hauled in the ladder and dropped down
till we was just above the reach of the animals,
then we let down a rope with a slip-knot in it
and hauled up a dead lion, a small tender one,
then yanked up a cub tiger. We had to keep
the congregation off with the revolver, or they
would 'a' took a hand in the proceedings and
We carved off a supply from both, and saved
the skins, and hove the rest overboard. Then
we baited some of the Professor's hooks with

the fresh meat and went a-fishing. We stood
over the lake just a convenient distance above
the water, and catched a lot of the nicest fish
you ever see. It was a most amazing good
supper we had; lion steak, tiger steak, fried
fish and hot corn pone. I don't want no-
thing better than that.
We had some fruit to finish off with. We
got it out of the top of a monstrous tall tree.
It was a very slim tree that had n't a branch
on it from the bottom plumb to the top, and
there it busted out like a feather-duster. It
was a pam tree, of course; anybody knows a
pam tree the minute he see it, by the pictures.
We went for coconuts in this one, but there
war n't none. There was only big loose bunches
of things like over-sized grapes, and Tom al-
lowed they was dates, because he said they
answered the description in the Arabian Nights
and the other books. Of course they might n't
be, and they might be pison; so we had to
wait a spell, and watch and see if the birds et
them. They done it; so we done it too, and
they was most amazing good.
By this time monstrous big birds begun to
come and settle on the dead animals. They
was plucky creturs; they would tackle one end
of a lion that was being gnawed at the other
end by another lion. If the lion drove the bird
away, it did n't do no good, he was back again
the minute the lion was busy.
The big birds come out of every part of the
sky-you could make them out with the glass
whilst they was still so far away you could n't
see them with your naked eye. Tom said the
birds did n't find out the meat was there by
the smell, they had to find it out by seeing it.
Oh, but ain't that an eye for you! Tom said
at the distance of five mile a patch of dead
lions could n't look any bigger than a person's
finger nail, and he could n't imagine how the
birds could notice such a little thing so far off.
It was strange and unnatural to see lion eat
lion, and we thought maybe they war n't kin.
But Jim said that did n't make no difference.
He said a hog was fond of her own children,
and so was a spider, and he reckoned maybe a
lion was pretty near as unprincipled though
maybe not quite. He thought likely a lion
would n't eat his own father, if he knowed



which was him, but reckoned he would eat his
brother-in-law if he was uncommon hungry, and
eat his mother-in-law any time. But reckoning
don't settle nothing. You can reckon till the
cows come home, but that don't fetch you to
no decision. So we give it up and let it drop.
Generly it was very still in the Desert, nights,
but this time there was music. A lot of other
animals come to dinner; sneaking yelpers that
Tom.allowed was jackals, and roached-backed
ones that he said was hyenas; and all the
whole biling of them kept up a racket all the
time. They made a picture in the moonlight
that was more different than any picture I ever
see. We had a line out and made fast to the-
top of a tree, and did n't stand no watch, but all
turned in and slept, but I was up two or three
times to look down at the animals and hear the
music. It was like having a front seat at a
menagerie for nothing, which I had n't ever
had before, and so it seemed foolish to sleep
and not make the most of it, I might n't ever
have such a chance again.
We went a-fishing again in the early dawn,
and then lazied around all day in the deep
shade on an island, taking turn about to watch
and see that none of the animals come a-snoop-
ing around there after erronorts for dinner. We
was going to leave next day, but could n't, it
was too lovely.
The day after, when we rose up toward the
sky and sailed off eastward, we looked back
and watched that place till it war n't nothing
but just a speck in the Desert, and I tell you it
was like saying good-by to a friend that you
ain't ever going to see any more.
Jim was thinking to himself, and at last he
"Mars Tom, we 's mos' to de end er de
Desert now, I speck."
"Why ? "
"Well, hit stan' to reason we is. You knows
how long we 's been a-skimmin' over it. Mus'
be mos' out o' san'. Hit's a wonder to me dat
it 's hilt out as long as it has."
"Shucks, there 's plenty sand, you need n't
"Oh, I ain't a-worryin', Mars Tom, only
wondering dat 's all. De Lord 's got plenty
san' I ain't doubtin' dat, but nemmine, He ain'

gwyne to was'e it jist on dat account; en I
allows dat dis Desert 's plenty big enough now,
jist de way she is, en you can't spread her out
no mo' 'dout was'in san'."
Oh, go 'long! we ain't much more than
fairly started across this Desert yet. The United
States is a pretty big country, ain't it ? Ain't
it, Huck? "
"Yes," I says, "there ain't no bigger one, I
don't reckon."
"Well," he says, this Desert is about the
shape of the United States, and if you was to
lay it down on top of the United States, it
would cover the land of the free out of sight
like a blanket. There 'd be a little corner
sticking out, up at Maine and away up north-
west, and Florida sticking out like a turtle's
tail, and that 's all. We 've took California
away from the Mexicans two or three years
ago, so that part of the Pacific coast is ours,
now, and if you laid the Great Sahara down
with her edge on the Pacific, she would cover
the United States and stick out past New York
six hundred miles into the Atlantic Ocean."
I says -
"Good land! have you got the documents
for that, Tom Sawyer?"
"Yes, and they 're right here, and I 've been
studying them. You can look for yourself.
From New York to the Pacific is 2,600 miles.
From one end of the Great Desert to the other
is 3,200. The United States contains 3,600,000
square miles, the Desert contains 4,162,000.
With the Desert's bulk you could cover up
every last inch of the United States, and in
under where the edges projected out, you could
tuck England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Den-
mark, and all Germany. Yes, sir, you could
hide the home of the brave and all of them
countries clean out of sight under the Great
Sahara, and you would still have 2,000 square
miles of sand left."
"Well," I says, "it clean beats me. Why,
Tom, it shows that the Lord took as much
pains making' this Desert as making' the United
States and all them other countries."
Jim says -" Huck, dat don' stan' to reason.
I reckon dis Desert wa' n't made, at all. Now
you take en look at it like dis- you look at it,
and see ef I 's right. What's a desert good for?




'T ain't good for nuthin'. Dey ain't no way to
make it pay. Hain't dat so, Huck ?"
"Yes, I reckotn."
"Hain't it so, Mars Tom ?"
"I guess so. Go on."
"Ef a thing ain't no good, it's made in vain,
ain't it? "
"Now, den! Do de Lord make anything
in vain? You answer me dat."
"Well- no, He don't."
Den how come He make a desert ?"
"Well, go on. How didHe come to make it ? "
"Mars Tom, I believe it uz jes like when
you 's building' a house; dey 's allays a lot o'
truck en rubbish lef' over. What does you do
wid it? Doan' you take en k'yart it off en
dump it into a ole vacant back lot? 'Course.
Now, den, it 's my opinion hit was jes like
dat-dat de Great Sahara war n't made at all,
she jes happen'."
I said it was a real good argument, and I
believed it was the best one Jim ever made.
Tom he said the same, but said the trouble
about arguments is, they ain't nothing but theo-
ries, after all, and theories don't prove nothing,
they only give you a place to rest on, a spell,
when you are tuckered out butting around and
around trying to find out something there ain't
no way to find out. And he says -
"There 's another trouble about theories:
there 's always a hole in them somewhere,
sure, if you look close enough. It 's just so
with this one of Jim's. Look what billions and
billions of stars there is. How does it come
that there was just exactly enough star-stuff,
and none left over? How does it come there
ain't no sand-pile up there ? "
But Jim was fixed for him and says -
"What 's de Milky Way?-dat 's what I
wants to know. What 's de Milky Way? An-
swer me dat! "
In my opinion it was just a sockdologer.
It 's only an opinion, it 's only my opinion and
others may think different; but I said it then
and I stand to it now--it was a sockdologer.
And moreover, besides, it landed Tom Sawyer.

He could n't say a word. He had that stunned
look of a person that's been shot in the back
with a kag of nails. All he said was, as for
people like me and Jim, he 'd just as soon have
intellectual intercourse with a catfish. But
anybody can say that-and I notice they al-
ways do, when somebody has fetched them a
lifter. Tom Sawyer was tired of that end of
the subject.
So we got back to talking about the size of
the Desert again, and the more we compared it
with this and that and t' other thing, the more
nobler and bigger and grander it got to look,
right along. And so, hunting amongst the fig-
gers, Tom found, by and by, that it was .just
the same size as the Empire of China. Then
he showed us the spread the Empire of China
made on the map, and the room she took up
in the world. Well, it was wonderful to think
of, and I says-
"Why, I 've heard talk about this Desert
plenty of times, but I never knowed, before,
how important she was."
Then Tom says-
"Important! Sahara important! That 's just
the way with some people. If a thing 's big,
it's important. That 's all the sense they 've
got. 'All they can see is size. Why, look at
England. It 's the most important country in
the world; and yet you could put it in China's
vest pocket; and not only that, but you 'd
have the dickens's own time to find it again the
next time you wanted it. And look at Russia.
It spreads all around and everywhere, and yet
ain't no more important in this world than
.Rhode Island is, and has n't got half as much
in it that 's worth saving."
Away off, now, we see a little hill, a-standing
up just on the edge of the world. Tom broke
off his talk, and reached for a glass very much
excited, and took a look, and says-
"That's it-it 's the one I 've been looking
for, sure. If I 'm right, it's the one the Der-
vish took the man into and showed him all the
So we begun to gaze, and he begun to tell
about it out of the Arabian Nights.

(To be continued.)




I LIVE in a musical neighborhood,
And I .'d certainly move out at once if I could,
But I 've taken my flat till the first of next May,
So you see very well that I can't get away.

There's a young man down-stairs who sits up late at night,
And thumps on the banjo with wearisome might,
While I walk up and down, for I can't sleep a wink
For the sound of his plinkety-plinkety-plink!

On the floor just below there 's a man with a flute-
Oh, that tootlety-tootlety-tootlety-toot!
To the nerves it is quite as distressing, I think,
As the other one's plinkety-plinkety-plink!

A man on a trombone below tries to bang,
But all he gets from it is whangety-whang;
And it's dreadful, mixed up with the banjo and flute-

And then there 's a quartet of zealous young men,
Who try glees and anthems again and again;
But all that they do is so woefully queer
-They should go to a wood, where there's no one to hear!

There 's a lady besides on the very first floor,
And on a piano the scale she runs o'er-
Just do, re, mi, fa, sol, and la, si, and do,
First up, and then down, sometimes fast, and then slow.

The janitor too has the musical craze,
And on the front steps an accordion plays;
Oh, I 'd move right away if I could-would n't you ?-
But my rent is all paid, and so what can I do?


Author of "Lady Jane."

[Begun in the May number,]

IT is not our intention to follow in detail the
wanderings and adventures of Philip and Lily-
bel. Their experiences on the pilgrimage to-
ward the city of their destination would fill too
many pages for our purpose.
When Philip went forth on that dreary March
night, with Pere Josef's children and his lit-
tle bag of treasures, he had formed no plans
as to the beginning or continuation of his
journey. His first idea was to get away, his
second was to get to New Orleans. The first
did not seem so difficult, and was soon put into
execution; but the latter required some serious
consideration, as all roads do not lead to that
fair and far city of the South.
In some respects a pedestrian journey has its
advantages. One has no difficulty in choosing
between sea and land, or in deciding between
rival lines of steamers and railroads; but it is
very important that one should at least set out
on the highway that leads to his destination.
Lilybel had been waiting some time at the
corner. He was sniffling with cold and impa-
tience; he also carried a bundle, but his bun-
dle did not contain sentimental souvenirs of
the past. Philip had not neglected the subsis-
tence department of the expedition; he had
given Lilybel money with which to buy pro-
visions, and these provisions were tied up in
the bundle, and consisted of bananas, ginger-
bread, and popped corn; a small tin bucket
filled with molasses completed the outfit.
"Well," said Philip, shortly, on seeing him,
"are you ready ? "
"Yas, Mars' Philip, I 's ready, I 's got ev'ry-
t'ing; but be we 's er-goin' ter stay out all night
in der rain an' col' ? "

"Yes, we are," returned Philip decidedly;
" and we 've got to walk to keep warm. Come
on, let 's start for the ferry." And without
further parley he turned his face toward the
river and trotted briskly along, followed by
Lilybel, who lagged and sniffed and complained
pitifully of the cold.
As soon as Philip had started, he understood
that he would be obliged to lead the expedi-
tion as well as to supply the moral force;
therefore he debated in his mind just what was
best to be done. The first thing was to get
away from the city-" Or the coppers '11 be
artery us," Lilybel said, between his sniffs, "an'
we 'll be cotched an' sont back, an' dey '11 put
us in der p'lice-station fer running' erway, an'
we 's '11 never git out."
This possibility really alarmed Philip. In
spite of the dreadful unknown before him, he
did not wish to be sent back, so he pressed on
sturdily toward the ferry. He was neither cold
nor wet; his thick little coat shed the rain, and
his heart was warm with hope.
When they reached the ferry slip, and Lily-
bel saw the boat and the dark water of the
North River, he hung back, saying stubbornly:
"I ain't er-gwine on any steamboat ter New
'Leens. I 's er-gwine ter walk, I is."
"But you must cross the ferry first; this is
only a ferry. Come on-.the boat is about
starting. If you don't come, I '11 go without
you," returned Philip decidedly.
I don't wan' ter," sniffled Lilybel, as Philip
gave his tickets to the gate-keeper, and at
the same time with an energetic push thrust the
reluctant little darky into the thickest of the
crowd, and so passed on unnoticed in the dark-
ness. When they were once safely on the
other side, Philip walked a little slower. He
was formulating a plan in his mind. With an
intelligence beyond his years, he felt that it

would not be well at first to make such in-
quiries as would cause any one to suspect his
destination. If he was not very discreet, he
might furnish a clue that would lead to his
being overtaken and sent back. Therefore. he
determined not to ask for directions which
would awaken suspicion. He remembered
distinctly two places which he had passed
through on his way North with his adopted
parents. One was Chattanooga; it was im-
pressed on his mind because they remained
there in order to visit Lookout Mountain, the
scene of the "Battle in the Clouds." The
other was Washington; Mrs. Ainsworth had
told him that it was the capital of the country.
If they passed through those cities to come to
New York, they could go South by the same
route. So he decided to begin by inquiring
the way to Washington.
So full of determination, so brave and hope-
ful was the boy that he would not have been
daunted 'or even discouraged had he
known of the long weary days, weeks,

and even months, when he must
always be toiling on; of the cold,
hunger, pain, and suffering he
must endure; the hills, val-
leys, and forests, the rivers
and lakes he must cross
before he could reach
his desired haven.
When the .night
was half spent, the
two little pilgrims
found themselves -
beyond the blare
and glare of Jersey
City in a quiet,
slumbering suburb.
Lilybel was ex-
hausted, and de- ,
dared he could go
no farther, so they
sat down on the steps of a half-finished house
and munched a piece of the black gingerbread
and a banana, after which Lilybel crawled under
the steps among a pile of shavings, and was
soon in the land of dreams, where one is seldom
tired, cold, and hungry.
For some time Philip sat in the silence and


looked at the stars. "There 's the Dipper," he
said to himself; Mammy used to show it to
me. It's just as bright here, and just as near,
so it can't be far to New Orleans; and there 's
the Little Bear-it used to be right over the
Pittosporum tree in Mammy's garden. It looks
just the same as it did then, and it 's shining
there and here at the same time." Sitting alone
in the dark, with Pare Josef's "children" hugged
close to him, he felt that he had seen old friends
in the "Dipper" and the "Little -Bear"; that
he would have their company on his long jour-
ney back to his home; he thought the way
could not seem so long and dreary while they
were shining above him.
After a while he felt cold and his eyes grew
heavy with sleep. So he crawled under the
steps beside Lilybel, who was in a comfortable
nest of shavings, and placing the "children"

v "

between them, and his treasures under his
head, he contentedly followed his little com-
panion into the enchanting land-of dreams.


At the earliest peep of day Philip was awak-
ened by the scampering of the "children" in the
cage. They were up early, and were indulging
in a game of colin-maillard. Lilybel was still
sleeping, and was sure to sleep all day if he
was not disturbed.
"Why, Mars' Philip, it ain't time ter git up!"
he cried dolorously, rubbing his eyes and yawn-
ing, while Philip shook him vigorously.
"Yes, it is; now, hurry and eat your break-
fast, and we '11 start right off before any one is
Philip gave the "children" a few grains of
popped corn, and ate a banana with a very
pbor appetite, while Lilybel fared sumptuously
on a huge piece of gingerbread; then, after
making their toilets, which consisted in brush-
ing off the clinging shavings and sawdust, they
went on their way-but not rejoicing.
The morning was cold and gray. Philip's
head ached and his feet felt like lead, but still
he must press on; he must not give up when
he had just begun the journey. Later, they
stopped at a farm-house to ask for some water.
It was breakfast-time, and the kind-hearted
mother of a little boy gave them each a hot
buttered roll and a cup of steaming coffee.
This good fare cheered and encouraged them
considerably, and they pressed on in quite a
cheerful mood.
All day they walked, Philip resolutely, Lily-
bel laggingly. When they inquired the way to
Washington, some laughed and said: "Keep
straight ahead and you '11 get there in a week
or so." Others told them they did n't know
the way, that it was too far to walk there, and
that they had better go by rail, and so on.
Philip thanked them all with a gentle smile
and trotted on serenely, but the day seemed
the longest day that he had ever spent.
When night came on they were near a rail-
road station on the outskirts of a small village.
Philip was very hungry, for he had eaten no-
thing since morning; but Lilybel had supplied
himself by lightening his bundle to such an ex-
tent that nothing remained but a handful of
popped corn, and for this dry fare Philip had
no appetite. When they reached the station a
freight-train was pulled up on the track, and
it seemed to be waiting for the engine in order

to start. Two men were in the caboose, and
as he was about to pass, Philip looked wist-
fully at them. They were eating supper, and
had a pot of coffee between them. The tired
boy craved some of the grateful beverage, but
he did not like to beg, so he drew out a dime
and asked them very politely if they would sell
him some.
The men laughed heartily. "Why, my little
man, we don't keep a coffee-stand; but I guess
we can give you some." So they poured out a
large tin cup full. It was strong and sweet,
but it was not Mocha; yet Philip thought he
had never tasted better. He gratefully drank
half, and gave the remainder to Lilybel.
The little negro had been regarding the bread
and bacon with an eloquent look, which the
kind-hearted men appreciated. After the coffee
disappeared, each little pilgrim received a
generous plate of food, which they devoured
eagerly. "Hunger is the best sauce": Philip
relished his supper as he never did a meal
served on Madam Ainsworth's dainty china
by the capable and stately Bassett.
After they had eaten, Philip thanked the
men politely, and was about to move on.
"Where are ye goin', little fellows ?" asked
one,-rough-looking without, but pure gold
We 're going to Washington," replied Philip
Great Caesar!--ye are? How yer goin'?"
"We 're going to walk," said Philip, un-
"When do ye expect to git there ?"
Oh, I don't know; to-morrow, perhaps."
"Ha, ha! Well, git in here an' come along
with us, and ye will; but if ye walk, it '11 take
ye a month, an' yer shoes '11 be all wore out."
Philip and Lilybel scrambled into the ca-
boose with alacrity and delight. The kind oc-
cupants gave them a little bunk in the corner,
where they slept comfortably; and in the morn-
ing they were in Washington, much to their
Philip would have liked to show the kind
men the "children," but he was afraid to do
so; he was wise enough to know that they
would be another means of tracing him. So
he could only thank his hospitable hosts very



warmly as he walked away with a much lighter theirs. They had not turned him off; he had
heart. gone of his own free will, and they were not in

See here, Lilybel," he said confidently to his
companion, now we 're a good long way from
New York, we need n't be in such a hurry.
I 've got some money, and we '11 stay here and
rest awhile."
"An' yer can make lots more a-showin' dem
little mices," suggested Lilybel. Did n't I
tole yer we 'd git lots er lifts on dem trains ? I
guess now we won't have ter walk no more."
Philip was very hopeful; he quite agreed
with Lilybel everything was going so well.
It would be very easy to get home, after all.
So they sallied forth to see the city with the
confidence and carelessness of a couple of
young millionaires out for a holiday.

PHILIP had been gone a month. Mrs. Ains-
worth had been very anxious and unhappy,
and had certainly done all that she could in
the absence of her husband, and in the face
of her mother-in-law's constant discourage-
ments. A great many letters had passed
between the detective employed and Mr.
Ainsworth. The latter, remembering Lilybel's
former methods of traveling, thought that the
little negro, who had also disappeared, had in-
duced Philip to hide with him on an outward-
bound steamer, and that they were doubtless
in New Orleans; but communications with the
captains of the different steamers, and the po-
lice of that city convinced him that the chil-
dren had not gone by sea, nor had they, as far
as he and the detective could learn, returned
to their former home.
Madam Ainsworth, who was not at all
anxious to have them discovered, was of the
opinion that they had never left New York,
and she was in daily fear that they would un-
expectedly turn up, and that Philip would be
forgiven and taken back. However, as weeks
passed away, she began to feel easier, and was
more than vexed at her daughter-in-law for
being anxious and worried about what she
termed unexpected good fortune." They-had
got rid of the little waif through no fault of
VOL. XXI.-46.

any way responsible for it. She did not see
why they should search -for him and want him
back. If they succeeded in finding him he
would probably run away again, and they would
have a repetition of all the trouble and expense.
There was no doubt but that the boy was
something of a vagabond, and as he grew older
he would be more unruly and troublesome,
therefore they were well rid of him before he
should disgrace them.
These were the specious arguments which
she used with her daughter-in-law, and with
which she quieted her own conscience; for now
and then, in spite of her coldness and indiffer-
ence, she had little twinges which made her
very uncomfortable. Suddenly the boy's hand-
some, face would come before her; she would
think of his merry laugh, his gentle, kindly
ways, and even .his little mischievous tricks
now made her smile and sigh at the same time.
She remembered the day when he pleaded so
earnestly for Pare Josef's children," and the
touching tone in his voice that had moved her
so, and brought back the pain of an old sorrow.
And toward the last, just before he went away,
he looked ill; sometimes she had noticed a
flush on his cheek, and an unnatural brightness
in his eyes. Perhaps exposure and want had
killed him, and even now his little neglected
body might be lying in some unknown grave.
These memories and fancies increased day by
day. In spite of her satisfaction at his contin-
ued absence, the boy interested her, and occu-
pied her thoughts away, more than he had
when he was with her.
One morning, when she sat down to her
writing-table to open her letters, she saw on
the top of the pile a large, strange-looking
package addressed to her in an unknown hand.
Her fingers trembled a little as she broke
the strong seal, and the first object within the
cover that met her eye was a letter that bore
her name in writing that she remembered too
well- the writing of her son, her Philip, who for
ten long years had sent her no missive to break
the solemn silence between them. It was like a
voice from the grave. With an awed face she
opened it, and read the confession of his mar-



riage, the tender passionate appeal to his
mother for his wife and child.
Why had this been kept from her for all
these years ? Who had dared to do it ? And
a feeling of resentment was mingled with her
sorrow and surprise. One after another she un-
folded and read the papers: her son's tender
little notes to the girl he loved, Pere Josef's
explanatory letter, and last of all, Toinette's
touching confession.
There it all lay before her, the history of
these young lives: the joys, the sorrows, the
hopes and ambitions, ending in a mournful
tragedy, which seemed unreal and almost im-
possible because of its remoteness. Unknown
to her, her son was married a year or more be-
fore his death. The swift memory of that aw-
ful day, when she was told that he had fallen,
wrung her heart with pain. He had been taken
away in the flush of youth and love, and his
young wife had followed him; but the child,
where was the child? They spoke of
Philip's child, her grandson, the eldest
Ainsworth. Why had they kept him from
her all these years? Who had done it?
Where was he? and why were these
letters sent to her now ?
Her mind was in a state of ter-
rible confusion. Again she read
Toinette's letter, again Pere
Josef's, slowly and more care-
fully. Suddenly, and with
awful force, the truth burst
upon her. Toinette's
Philip! That boy her i
son had adopted-the
little waif, the vaga-
bond, the despised and
rejected-was her son's -
child, her grandson! The blood
that flowed in his veins was hers-
he was her very own, and she had
driven him away to ruin, and, perhaps, to
It was an awful moment for her. Pride and
composure were forgotten; she was very human
and weak in her remorse and sorrow. With a
cry of distress that brought Mrs. Ainsworth to
the room, she threw herself back in her chair
and burst into tears.

"What is it?. Oh, what has happened?"
cried Mrs. Ainsworth in terror; she had never
seen the stately old lady weep, and the sight of
her sorrow was extremely touching.
"Laura, oh, Laura, how can I ever forgive
myself?" she exclaimed, when she saw bending
over her the pale, pitying face of her daughter-
in-law. "What can we do? How can we find
him ? That boy, that child whom I have driven
away, is Philip's son,
my poor Philip's son!" -
"What? Who? in-
terrupted Mrs. ,Ains-
worth wildly. She 1 I "/
thought the old lady /i/
had suddenly gone in-

But Madam Ainsworth did not heed the in-
terruption nor the question. Oh, I am fear-
fully punished," she went on excitedly. There
are all the certificates, the letters; look at them,



read them. They tell everything, they are as
clear as day. See what I have brought upon
myself; I was cold, proud, wicked-I would not
listen to the pleadings of my heart. I felt for
that child. I had to struggle with myself not
to love him. It was the old bitter prejudice,
the hatred for what had caused the sorrow of
my life. If he had come from any other place
on earth I might have done him justice; but
I said like those of old, Can there any good
thing come out of Nazareth?' and I rejected
him, although something told me that there was
a tie between us. Oh, I felt it, that day when I
was cruel to him, when he pleaded so pitifully
for his little pets! It was the very tone of
voice, the very expression of my Philip when
I used to reprove him for some childish fault.
Poor little soul; I pitied him, but I almost broke
his heart and my own with my stubborn pride!"
While Madam Ainsworth was pouring out her
bitter self-accusations, Mrs. Ainsworth was look-
ing over the letters and papers with a puzzled
bewildered air. "Oh," she said at length, "it
must be true, he must be Captain Ainsworth's
child! Edward felt it when he first saw him.
It was the resemblance to his brother that
made him love the boy; he told me so then, and,
beside, he was so like our boy. I was always
surprised that you could not see the resem-
blance"; and Mrs. Ainsworth wiped away the
tears that filled her eyes. But what can we
do ? How can we find him?" and she looked
helplessly at her mother-in-law, who was mak-
ing a desperate effort to recover her composure.
"I must write to Edward at once, he must
leave that business and come to us," replied
Madam Ainsworth, decidedly. "What does
it matter whether we lose or gain money while
Philip's child is drifting about the world ex-
posed to want and sin? Laura, while I am
writing to Edward send for that detective.
We must give him more money. We must
make greater efforts, the child can and must
be found! Until I see him again I can never
know peace or happiness; my son will reproach
me from his grave, and I shall reproach my-
self as long as I live. There is no time to be
lost; we must begin this very moment."
And the ardor and energy with which Ma-
dam Ainsworth put her plans into execution

was in striking contrast to her former coldness
and indifference.

THE two little pilgrims did not remain long
in Washington. Lilybel's enormous appetite
for sweets, and his fondness for sight-seeing,
very soon depleted Philip's pocket-book, which
could not be replenished by exhibiting the
"children," as the little negro had proposed,
for Philip was aware that the little cage of
white mice would furnish a certain means of
following them, so he kept them carefully cov-
ered, and seldom allowed them to be seen.
And he decided in the future to avoid large
cities,-they offered too many temptations to
Lilybel,-and to confine himself to country roads
and obscure villages.
So they set forth again, as bright and hopeful
as at first, and drifted on, sometimes a wind of
chance blowing them in the right direction,
sometimes in the wrong; still, they progressed
slowly but surely toward their goal. They were
not so fortunate in getting "lifts" as Lilybel
had predicted, but they seldom suffered for
food and shelter. Lilybel's tin bucket, which
he clung to through all vicissitudes, usually
contained something eatable upon which they
could fall back in an emergency. When some
generous housewife would furnish them more
than they could eat at one meal, the remain-
der went into the bucket to furnish supplies
on a long march from one point of supply to
As they went South the weather 'became
milder, and they did not suffer much from cold.
Very early in the march, Lilybel and his shoes
parted company, which was no hardship to the
little darky, whose feet were as tough as
leather and as hard as bone; but Philip, after
being daintily shod for so long, when obliged
to part with his foot-covering, suffered terribly
from blisters and wounds caused by constantly
tramping over rough roads. At times, when
he found it impossible to take another step, he
would sit down disheartened, and declare he
could go no farther. Then Lilybel would en-
courage him by telling him that he "saw er



smoke" or heard er train," and therefore they
must be near a house or a railroad, where they
could rest and procure assistance. Then Philip,
very pale, and with compressed lips, would
struggle up and press on, and if he failed
utterly, Lilybel would supplement the exhausted
physical force by carrying his companion on
his back, with a sturdy determination wonderful
in such a mite.
But Philip was very thin and light. In fact,
he seemed to wilt away day by day, until, as
he sometimes said, laughingly, there was no-
thing of him but clothes, and these, too, were
beginning to wilt. A hole here, a rent there, a
tatter left on a bush, a scrap jagged off by
pushing through a hedge, or climbing a rude
fence, told him that soon his garments would
be in the condition of Lilybel's.
If Madam Ainsworth could have caught a
glimpse of Philip after six weeks of wandering,
her old opinion that he was a vagabond would
have been fully confirmed by his appearance.
But in spite of the hardships endured by the lit-
tle pilgrims, Pere Josef's children" fared sump-
tuously every day. They had plenty to eat,
they were warm, and well cared for, and, on the
whole, preferred swinging along over the road,
with occasional glimpses of sunlight and blue
skies, to being shut up in a close, dim room.
And they were as merry as ever; they played
their little games, and performed their sprightly
tricks readily, and often and often furnished
their small share to the general fund by bring-
ing in coppers and nickels, which Lilybel de-
lighted to collect in his cap, after the manner
of itinerant showmen. The farther they went
South the more frequent these exhibitions be-
came, until they were rarely without small sums
of money; but owing to Lilybel's fondness for
luxuries and contempt for essentials, they never
could get enough ahead to supply themselves
with all necessities. However, they drifted on,
laughing one day, and crying the next; overfed
at one meal, and hungry for days together; one
night cold, with only the skies for a covering,
another housed under some hospitable roof.
When Philip asked for shelter and food he
was seldom refused. The pretty, gentle little
fellow with his droll black companion excited
interest in every one; and when some, curious

to know the why of this peculiar partnership,
questioned Philip, he would smilingly reply,
" Oh, he 's my friend." And that was all the
information he would give.
One night darkness overtook them among
the mountains of Tennessee. It was in April,
but it was keenly cold on the hills. The stars
glittered brightly, the air was full of frost, the
dry branches and leaves crackled and rustled
around them. They were on a mountain road
climbing toilsomely up and up, and they did
not know just where they were; but they were
confident that if they kept to the highway it
would lead to some place. At last they could
go no farther, and they sat down in the dark
quite exhausted. They were cold and hungry,
and unfortunately Lilybel's bucket was empty.
After resting for a few moments, they drew
some dead leaves and branches together under
the shelter of a tree, and with the "children"
between them they lay down in their little nest
quite contentedly. Scarcely had they com-
posed themselves to sleep when they heard
something among the bushes cautiously ap-
proaching them, a soft regular tramp, a rust-
ling of leaves, and then a certain slow, measured
breathing. Some living thing was very near
Lilybel started up in terror, and his eyes
gleamed white in the darkness. Er b'ar!--
it 's er b'ar! he cried, scrambling for his life
up the tree. "Come quick, come!" he called
back to Philip. Come quick, er he '11 cotch
yer an' eat yer."
"I can't; how can I climb a tree with the
'children'? And I won't leave them," replied
Philip, resolutely.
It 's er b'ar fer shore; I done heard him
growl," insisted Lilybel.
Oh, nonsense," said Philip, skeptically;
"I 've got a match, and I 'm going to see
just what it is."
At that moment a large dark form was visi-
ble amid the bushes, and a warm breath swept
over the boy's cheek. He struck the match
and waited for it to blaze; then he exclaimed
joyfully, "It 's a cow-it's only a cow!"
Is it er-chawin' gum ? asked Lilybel cau-
tiously; 'ca'se if it 's er-chawin' gum it 's er
tame cow, an' I ain't afeard."



"It 's chewing something," said Philip.
"Come down, it is n't -going to hurt you."
Not if it 's er tame cow," replied Lilybel,
coming down more slowly than he went up.
"Let 's make er fire so 's I can see, an' I '11
milk her. I knows how ter milk er tame cow."
But Philip had no more matches, and they
laid. down again
to wait for morn-
ing with the gentle,
motherly creature
near them. It gave
Philip a feeling of
safety and com- ..
fort, and he would f
soon have been .
asleep had not
Lilybel begun to
whimper with the
cold. "I 's 'mos'
froze!-I 's'mos'
dade!" -
"Here, take my -
coat," said Philip;
"I 'm not very -
cold." S --
"No, I won't, t Y -
Mars' Philip; you
's sick, an' you 's '"
col', too. I won't
take yer coat."
Perhaps Lilybel .
was beginning to
understand dimly '
something of the '
beauty of unsel- I
fishness, for he '
complained no v ,-' '
more, but burrow- PHILIP GRIEVED
ed deeper into his
nest of leaves, and was soon sleeping soundly.
Then Philip softly removed his coat (he had a
jacket under it), and laid it over the little
negro, and tucked it around him gently; after
which he nestled down, with his arm around the
little cage, and slept a restless, feverish sleep.
.When he awoke it was dawn, and he was
benumbed with cold; his feet and hands ached
pitifully, his head throbbed and whirled, and
for a moment he felt that he could not stand

up. But at last, with a great effort, he got
upon his feet, and shook off the weakness
which was daily gaining on him.
The gentle cow was still near them, and
Lilybel was soon drawing into his tin bucket a
generous stream of warm milk, of which they
drank freely. When they had taken all they



wished, the practical little negro filled the
bucket for future use.
This grateful beverage refreshed and cheered
Philip, and he was about to start forth more
hopefully; but to his surprise and distress, when
he uncovered the cage of the "children," he
found poor little Boule-de-Neige lying stark and
dead. She was always more delicate than the
others, and in spite of her name, the tender
little sprite had succumbed to the cold. It was


the first accident to the children," and Philip revive it; and after protecting the others as
grieved sorely over the -tiny dead thing. He well as he could, the little pilgrims set forth
could not bear to leave it behind, so he put on their wearisome journey with heavy, sor-
it within his jacket, hoping the warmth might rowful hearts.
(To be continued.)



SKIPPER Jonathan Gumption Yankee Van
Was a very kind-hearted and amiable man;
When his children four,
Found travel a bore,
He rigged up a Merry-go-round on his boat.
It was quite the merriest thing afloat,
And, like the knights in the tourney of old,
With little toy swords his children grew bold,
And speared all the doughnuts his good wife made;
And these were the prizes-'t was thus they played,
If how it was done should puzzle your brain,
Just look at the picture and all will be plain.

i ,4 -- A-




"74/4 | L4-&.a a i( has a good word
I for the postman.
IS Master and mis-
ft tress, servants
K and children, all
Y smile at the man
Sin gray uniform
with aleatherbag.
Ri4 5 + He is expected
S with the regular-'
S ity of the rising
and setting of the
X sun, whether it
"\ rains, snows, or
shines; and if his
Spring comes a lit-
tle tardily, how
they fret and fume A letter is such a distinctly
personal matter: it binds us, though apart, to
those we love best; it often holds within its
folds the issues of life and death; the most
trivial social affairs, the most sacred confidences,
the most serious business transactions are in
turn confided to this silent messenger. And
yet, like most of the choicest blessings of life,
we accept it without interest or inquiry as to
the method by which it is laid in our hands;
*we might almost say, without money and with-
out price.
An investigation of the Dead-letter Office at
Washington affords an admirable idea of our
postal system. It has been estimated that dur-
ing the last year 4,302,789,000 pieces of mail
matter were posted in this country-more than
in Germany, France, and Austria combined.

Taken in connection with this statement, it will
be well to remember that the length of railways
in the United States nearly equals that of all
other countries taken together, and that we
have in operation 68,403 post-offices, and our
revenue for the last fiscal year was nearly
seventy-six millions.
Think of the wonderful power of organization
and executive ability required to manage this im-
mense system! Of course the Postmaster-Gen-
eral is the great head center, and he, with his
four assistant postmasters-general and their sub-
ordinates, plans, devises, and propels the entire
machinery. To indicate its perfection it is only
necessary to contrast the comparatively small
number of letters and parcels that reach the
Dead-letter Office during the year with the mil-
lions that are delivered.
This bureau is probably visited by a greater
number of people than any other in the Gov-
ernment departments. It now employs one
hundred and seven clerks, while during the
first eleven years of its existence, one small book
contained a record of all valuable letters that
reached it during that period.
The entrance to the main office is through a
museum consisting entirely of articles which for.
various reasons have gone astray and could not
be restored to their owners. Since the mail-
bags have become so elastic as to admit the
transportation of almost everything, as well as
letters .and papers, they have grown to be as
patient and long-suffering as camels of the des-
ert, probably expecting that the day is not far
distant when people who wish to make a cheap
journey will have themselves done up in brown


paper, stamped with a few cents, and piled up
beside the letter-box.
The museum contains many curious and in-
teresting things. In one case is a mail-pouch
with an ugly slash made by a sharp knife, and
stained with blood. The carrier returning from
Lochiel, Arizona, July 23, 1885, was killed by
Apache Indians, who destroyed the mails, leav-
ing this bag on the ground. In another place
may be seen five letters that claim an aristocracy
of antiquity, being severally stamped 1821, 1826,
1832, 1835, and 1836.
Among the books is a New Testament in Chi-
nese, a life of Ignatius Loyola in Italian, printed
in Venice in 1711, and a French volume which
dates back to 1687. Near by is the Lord's
Prayer in fifty-four languages, and a certificate
of character to an apprentice from his master.
The certificate is in German, and was brought
to this country a hundred years ago.
There.are two miniatures apparently of father
and son, painted on ivory, which were found
in a blank letter from Boston, December 9,
1882, and many efforts have been made by the
department to find the owners, but so far they
have proved unavailing. Two other miniatures
that have attracted much attention are framed
in old-fashioned gold settings which bear upon
the reverse sides the inscriptions Lucy Ran-
dolph, Obiit April 23, 1782, E 64 years; and
Mary Carter, Obiit Jan. 3ist 1770, jE 34 years.
A crucifix of gold and carnelian on a cushion
of velvet in a glass case was found at the
close of the war in the Atlanta post-office,
and to this day it remains unclaimed. Near
it is a sapphire ring set with diamonds, and in
close proximity, as if keeping guard over these
valuables, is a loaded revolver. The latter was
sent addressed to a lady in Indiana; but as she
never called for it, it drifted here.
Then, with singular incongruity, but taste-
fully displayed, upon shelves covered with
crimson cloth are to be found a piece of wood
from the floor of the room in which Jesse
James, the notorious outlaw, was killed; stuffed
birds; palmetto-wood; nugget gold; sea-shells;
boxes of wedding-cake; false teeth; Easter eggs;
bottles of salad-oil, cognac, and perfumes; pack-
ages of arsenic and strychnine; an array of
bowie-knives; an old English hat-box that looks

as if it had circumnavigated the globe; a coffee-
pot; a washboard; samples of barbed-wire
fence; a baby cotton-bale; and dolls enough
for the children of an entire village. There is a
fantastic garment stamped all over with cards,
kings, queens, diamonds, spades, hearts, and clubs
mingled in brilliant confusion. A coat like this
is much prized by the Sandwich Islanders, who
send to America to have it manufactured, the
possession of one being regarded as a badge of
distinction. The bright hues of this one are
toned down by the companionship of an exquis-
ite feather fan in black and white with pearl
Several years since, when the steamship
"Oregon" was lost, a portion of her mail was
recovered, and among the newspapers were
found many dozens of pairs of kid gloves which
were being smuggled into this country. A few
of these now hang behind the glass doors in
the museum as a warning to the dishonest.
The collection of coins would make the eyes
of a collector glisten. The patriarch of the
tribe is so old so many hundred years old-
that it would be hazardous to state his exact
age, but he began somewhere B. c.
Among the curiosities in the museum is a
baby Jumbo with one of his sides gorgeously
embroidered in the Stars and Stripes, and the
other flaunting the Union Jack, the two united
by a golden chain. It had drifted thither,, and
had been for several years ensconced in its
glass case, when a postal exhibit was begged
from the department for a church fair, and for
the first time Jumbo went out for an airing.
It so happened that a lady from New Hamp-
shire was visiting Washington at the time, and
went to the fair. To the surprise of her friends,
she greeted Jumbo as a long-lost friend. Ten
years before she had made him and sent him to
her daughter in England, who had married a
man named Link-hence the design of the
two flags linked together. But she did not.
claim her possession, and so he has never made
his journey across the ocean.
A young lady once sent by mail a ring to a
friend; a peculiar moss-agate which she spe-
cially valued. It was never received, and its
fate remained a mystery for several years, when
on a visit to a distant State she was greatly



surprised to find sitting opposite her at break-
fast a stranger wearing her lost ring. The ring
was so odd that she was sure it was hers.
Upon inquiry she found that he had bought
the ring at a dead-letter sale.
Besides the money which comes into this
office in the ways I have already mentioned,

ter to a city without the street and number.
Should these be omitted, to show how small is
the chance of its ever being delivered, notwith-
standing the intelligence and diligence of the
carriers, I can offer no better illustration than
the statement that the great city of Chicago
alone contains within its own limits fifty-four


about $3000.00 is received annually, called
in official language, "loose money." This
money is nearly always in coin, and is gathered
from the mail-pouches which are hung on
cranes to be snatched off by the passing mail-
trains, where they do not stop. The concus-
sion is so great that the wrappers or envelops
which contain coin are sometimes broken, with
the result that the contents lie loose in the
bottom of the bag; and can only be turned
over to the hands of Uncle Sam.
In passing, I would say never post a let
VOL. XXI.-47.

post-offices, eight of that number being of the
grade including the largest offices.
In addressing a letter to a small place, it
would be wise to add the county; and always
write the name of the State in full, as writing
wrong abbreviations for State names sends tens
of thousands of letters astray every year. In
short, a visit to the Dead-letter Office, and an
examination into its daily work, would almost
persuade anybody that the wonder is that
we receive by mail half as much as we do;
and this surprise is generally followed by the



admission that considering our carelessness even tered by an iron gateway. Formerly, the gen-
this half is wholly undeserved. eral public was allowed to come and go at will,
Leaving the museum, the main office is en- but it is now necessary to be answered for

'i t




by some
sible per-
son. Per-
haps the
best idea
of the ex-
tent of
'the work
on in this
may be
Sn a obtained
from the
facts in a
recent re-
port of
the Postmaster-General. It shows that during
the past year 7,320,038 pieces of mail matter
were handled. Letters and parcels to the num-
ber of 559,839 were delivered unopened to
the proper parties; 633,-
957 foreign pieces were
returned to the country
of origin; 29,017 letters
contained money add-
ing up to $42,064; while
30,496 containing drafts,
checks, or other instru-
ments for the payment
of money, to the value
of $2,298,688, were de-
livered to the owners.
The revenue from dead
letters and from the A
auction of unclaimed
parcels amounted to
$13,894.42. Magazines,
picture cards, pamph- %
lets, etc., which could
not be returned, to the
number of 15,890 pieces,
were given away among
the charitable institu-
tions of the District.
There is a class of
letters called live let-
ters, meaning those that OFFIC

are not dead letters proper, but are such as
have been properly addressed, stamped, and
forwarded, but remain unclaimed at their des-
tination. The "live" letters of the dead-letter
office, however, are those which have been
posted with a deficient or illegible address.
These average nearly 2000 daily. When they
reach the Dead-letter Office, they are put into
the hands of experts who supply the proper ad-
dresses. These letters are never opened. Many
of the errors occur from ignorance, but quite as
many from carelessness. There are a few things
before which even the experts hang their heads
and confess themselves vanquished, such as a
superscription like this: "For my son out West,
He drives red oxen and the railroad goes bi thar."
On one occasion the Postmaster-General re-
ceived a letter, from a woman living in the south
of England, who requested that he would
please find her brother who had left the old
country thirteen years before,-during which
time his relatives had*had no news of him,-
and deliver a letter which she inclosed, ad-



S -t -, r .%w.', *- '- Z- .: '. :

dressed thus: "Mr. James Gunn, Power Loom key,' had been supplied in this office, and the
Shuttle-maker, Mass., America." Suffice it to letter, notwithstanding the time occupied in its.'
say that Mr. James Gunn was found at No. journey from Boston to Washington, and the
i -----1 -. -',

Office, addressed: .. Mr.
?-. "; :. :. |,

James Gunn No 4 Bar-

rington street, America," ,-.

ths timem ven the tState
Sdelivey of this n

tetrtn yth ears slene

lean ca the Dead-
letter Office to express his
dressed thus: "Mr James Gunn Power Loom key" had been supplied in this office, and the

Shuttle-maker, Mass., America." Suffice it to letter, notwithstanding the time occupied in its

by him at Constantinople.
say that Mr. James Gunn was found at No. journey from Boston to Washington, and the
4 Barrington street, Lowell, Mass.; and it was necessary delay there, reached Dr. that it washbu first
a curious sequel to this,
that about nine months .. -. C--/-
afterward another letter !f OVp

came tos the D ead letter
Office,n address d:mit Mr.be
James Gunn, No. 4 Bar-
rington street, America,"
this time even the State .// o c 0A "t
being omitted; but the e$r^ c 2A 4 t 4W
delivery of this was ant -. .-
easy matter, and it was ..
also very plain proof that
the thirteen years' silence i n x dyfr i
had been broken. p0%

tleman called at the Dead-
letter Ofice to express his t Tr A n tec
by him at Constantinople. .v--(------^
It was posted in Boston,
$1ooo.oo. The address upon the letter was, in sixteen days from the time that it was first
"Dr. Washburn, Roberts College." The de- posted.
ficiency in the address, "Constantinople, Tur- Among the curious addresses might be men-



tioned one in Greek for Athens, another in every detail of the office-work, from which
Arabic to a missionary in Syria, and such as immediate results of the most satisfactory char-
can be read only by holding them before a acter were obtained.
mirror. There are thousands writ-
ten by foreigners in this country,
who cannot grapple with English
as She is Wrote," and consequently / '~
must spell entirely by sound. Thus,
for example, an Italian writes
Avergrasson for Havre-de-Grace;
a Hungarian spells New Jersey,
Schaszerscie; and a Frenchman
abbreviates Rhode Island into
Badaland. A not unusual error ,
arises from a certain vague asso- -/ )
citation of ideas; as, a letter plainly r
addressed Niagara, Pratt Co., Kan-
sas, was intended for Saratoga in
that county and State; another ad-

have been Fox Trap; and Rising Sun, Colo., was
sent to Sunshine. Sometimes a puzzled inquirer
invades this particular branch of work, and is
eager to learn how the experts can read these
puzzles. But the skilled workers guard well the
"tricks of the trade," and to all such inquiries
reply, It is our business to know."
Mr. David Paul Leibhardt, who recently re-
signed his position as superintendent of the
Dead-letter Office, was for a term of years its
efficient head. During his administration, the
strictest business methods were applied to

In these efforts he was ably seconded by
Mr. Waldo G. Perry, the chief clerk, who has
been employed in the service for thirty years,
and is still an epitome of postal regulations. He
is a Vermonter and a Yale man, but above all,
a post-office official, and ready at any moment
to answer any question pertaining to foreign or
domestic mail-matter.
Mr. Leibhardt has now been succeeded by
Mr. Bernard Goode.
To the minor division are turned over for
treatment all letters containing stamps, receipts,


manuscripts, photographs, passports, and other
miscellaneous papers of minor value. As a
single item of last year's work, I will mention
that 37,735 photographs were received by this
division, of which 27,600 were restored to the
All mail-matter sent from foreign countries
to the United States, which, for any cause,
cannot be delivered, is treated in the foreign
In the foreign division is also received
matter sent from the United States to foreign
countries, found undeliverable there, and re-

IT was Christmas eve. Outside, the moon-
light showed a smooth expanse of drifted snow
like a great white sea; the sky was another sea
of darkest blue, with a magnificent moon afloat
in it. It was what folks called "seasonable
weather "; and if it made those who looked out
at it from their own comfortable homes remem-
ber the houseless and the starving, and- send
out relief to them, I have no fault to find
with it.
Inside the big nursery all was quiet, save for
a whispering in the farthest corner. Here was
stationed the bed of the two small lords of the

turned to the United States for disposition.
Records are kept of registered letters, of par-
cels, of applications made for missing matter
of foreign origin, of everything delivered, and
finally of all mail-matter returned from foreign
countries, the receipt of which is properly ac-
knowledged. The countries with which we
thus exchange international postal courtesies
are eighty-eight in number, and cover the
globe, since many colonies of England, France,
and Spain, situated in regions beyond the reach
of a regular postal service, are cared for by the





nursery-Willie, aged six, and Jamie, four
years. It was the elder brother who spoke:
And just in the middle of the night, Jamie,
when we are all asleep, down comes Santa
Claus through the chimney, and fills these
stockings we have hung up!"
"But he '11 burn his feet in the fire," said
Jamie, who was of a practical turn of mind.
Oh, no, the fire would n't burn Santa Claus;
and besides, it will be out," said Willie. See,
it's going out already."
The fire gave a last despairing flicker as he
spoke, and then dropped into darkness.


"I mean to keep awake and see him," he
went on. "I should like so much to thank
him for coming. Only think, he has filled my
stockings three times already; and last Christ-
mas he filled yours, too, Jamie, only you were
too young to know!"
"What do you think he '11 bring?" asked
Jamie, in a drowsy tone.
Oh, everything you would like! There '11
be a ball like my best one, and a horse, and all
sorts of lovely things! "
"That 'll be fine,' said Jamie; "but-I 'm
so sleepy Here he went fairly over to sleep.
"Perhaps I should go to sleep, too," said
Willie, softly to himself; I '11 try. One, two,
three, four,-no, it 's no use trying; I can't go
to sleep. I mustsee Santa Claus."
He lay still, staring at the moonlight, which
was now flooding the room. At last he could
wait no longer; he crept noiselessly out of bed,
and stole to the window. He lifted a corner
of the blind, and looked out. Earth and sky lay
clear and bare before him-there was no sign
of Santa Claus either above or below. And
it was late, very late. Poor Willie's ardor felt
a sudden chill -could Santa Claus possibly
have forgotten to come to-night ? How disap-
pointed little Jamie would be after all the fine
promises he had been making to him! Oh,

dear! Willie's heart swelled, and a lump came
into his throat; perhaps little Jamie would
never believe him or care for him again. Then
a sudden inspiration flashed across his brain;
the little brother, at least, should not be disap-
pointed. He clambered up to the shelf where
his own most cherished playthings were kept-
his best toys, that were brought out only on
special occasions.
With his arms piled full of these, he came
down again, and crossed the room to the dark
fireplace, where hung the two little stockings.
He carefully inserted his treasures, one by
one, into his brother's stocking; then he crept
back into bed beside little Jamie, and finally
fell asleep with a light heart.
Morning dawned at length. The red winter
sun looked in on the two little brothers and
woke them.
"I must look at my stocking," said Jamie,
clambering over Willie, who lay still and seem-
ingly unconcerned. "Aren't you coming to
see yours, Willie ? Why, I declare we have
each two stockings filled! "
And sure enough, when Willie came bound-
ing over to the fireside, there were four full
stockings hanging up; and one of his had a
card pinned to it, on which was written, For
little Santa Claus "


" GOOD morrow, friends," the peafowl cried,
And spread his feathers gay;
" There '11 be a change here very soon -
I heard the Master say:
It takes too much to feed the stock,
This weather is so cold;
I must look over them at once
And choose one to be sold.'

" Those are the very words he said
To John his son; and so
I came to break the news at once,
For one of you must go.

Poor Polly raised her gentle head
And gave a whinny low:
" Well, if my Master wishes it,
I s'pose I '11 have to go.
But as for what I eat, I 'm sure
I plowed for many a day,
And helped to raise the
corn and oats i X
Besides the
clover hay.

I think I 've
earned my
'keep,' at
But, then,
I 't getting old,
And if my Master
thinks it best .
I 'm willing to be sold."

"Well, well, perhaps 't will not be you,
So don't take on so, Poll;
It may have been the brindle cow
He meant, now, after all;
She can't be greatly prized, I 'm sure,
A-roaming through the dell;


I think 't was she the Master meant
That he would have to sell."

But Sukey slowly shook her head
And whisked her slender tail:
SI know I 'm of some use," she said,-
To fill the milking-pail.
And Betty Green, the milkmaid, says
I 'm worth my weight in gold;
I hardly think the Master meant
That I was to be sold."

" Oh, well, perhaps -it may have been
Dame Grumph, the spotted sow;
Although she 's small, she eats as much
As any horse or cow.
Then, too, she has a lot of pigs,
A dozen or a score,
To squabble round the drinking-trough
And squeal and squeal for more."

"Umph, umph! Indeed!" quoth Madam
"You're getting very bold,
To say my piggywigs and I
Are going to be sold.
But handsome is as handsome does,
And though you look so .gay,
You could n't find
such pigs as
If you should try
all day."

"There, there, Dame Grumph! keep cool,
pray do!-
It may n't be you, you know;
Why, there 's that useless Chanticleer
Does nothing else but crow;
I should n't wonder, now, if he
Should go instead of you-"

"You should n't,
hey? I thank
you, sir,-
But here is Master
coming now;
I think we '11
soon be told '
Which one of all
this company .
Is going to be

The Master came. He fed the mare
And called her "pretty Poll."
He patted Sukey's neck, and threw
Some hay into her stall.
He gave some corn to, Madam Grumph,
And some to Chanticleer.
Then turning to his son he spoke
In tones that all could hear:

: Go catch that silly peafowl, John,
That 's idly strutting there;
Of all the creatures on the place
'T is he we best can spare."

So Polly munched her feed of corn,
And Sukey munched her hay;
Dame Grumphy and her pigs began
To breakfast right away;
And as the lordly Chanticleer
Went scratching in the loam,
He chuckled softly to himself:
Some Folks should look at home."

Helen Whitney Clark.

VOL. XXI.-48.

THE St. Lawrence is a phenomenon among rivers. No
other river is fed by such gigantic lakes. No other river
is so independent of the elements. It despises alike rain,
snow, and sunshine. Ice and wind may be said to be the
only things that affect its mighty flow. Something al-
most as phenomenal as the St. Lawrence itself is the fact
that there is so little generally known about it. It might
be safely affirmed that not one per cent. of the American
public are aware of the fact that among all the great riv-
ers of the world the St. Lawrence is the only absolutely
floodless one. Such, however, is the case.
The St. Lawrence despises rain and sunshine. Its
greatest variation caused by drought or rain hardly ever
exceeds a foot or fourteen inches. The cause of this al-
most everlasting sameness of volume is easily understood.
The St. Lawrence is fed by the mightiest bodies of fresh
water on earth. Immense as is the volume of water it
pours into the ocean, any one who has traversed all the
immense lakes that feed it, and for the surplus waters of
which it is the only channel to the sea, wonders that it is
not even more gigantic than it is. Not one drop of the
waters of the five great lakes finds its way to the ocean
save through this gigantic, extraordinary, and wondrously
beautiful river. No wonder, then, that it should despise
the rain and defy the sunshine.-Nature's Realm.

THERF is to-day in Phoenix, Arizona, a stage-coach that
has been held up and robbed oftener than any other in exis-
tence. It has seen its best days, and now stands dismantled
and dilapidated in the back yard of a livery-stable; but
could it talk, many are the tales it could tell of brigandage
that would put the exploits of Claude Duval in the shade.
It began running, in the seventies, between Prescott and
Tombstone, and has actually been robbed eighty-three
times. Eight drivers and as many express messengers
have been killed from its box, and, as passengers in those
days went armed to defend themselves and property, not
a few deaths have occurred among them and the brig-
ands. It was originally a handsome Concord coach,
pulled by eight mules, and cost $18oo at Tucson; but its
sides are now split by rifle and pistol bullets, and in more
than one place the leather lining shows the wild stroke
of a bowie-knife.--Los Angeles Herald.

READ the following aloud, repeating the shorter ones
quickly several times in succession:
Six thick thistle sticks.
Flesh of freshly fried flying-fish.
The sea ceaseth, but it sufficeth us.
High roller, low roller, lower roller.
Give Grimes Jim's great gilt gig-whip.
A box of mixed biscuits, a mixed biscuit-box.
Two toads, totally tired, tried to trot to Tedbury.
Strict, strong Stephen Stringer snared slickly six sickly
silky snakes.
She stood at the door of Mrs. Smith's fish-sauce shop,
welcoming him in.
Swan swam over the sea; swim, swan, swim; swan
swam back again; well swum, swan.
It is a shame, Sam; these are the same, Sam. 'T is all
a sham, Sam, and a shame itis to sham so, Sam.
A haddock, a haddock, ablack-spotted haddock, a black
spot on the black back of a black-spotted haddock.
Susan shineth shoes and socks; socks and shoes shine
Susan. She ceaseth shining shoes and socks, for shoes
and socks shock Susan.-Selected.

AT night the weary old doctor sat down and noted, as
usual, the condition of his patients:
The ragman Picking up.
The editor Rapidly declining.
The dentist-May pull through.
The postmaster Must go.
The deaf-mute Still complaining.
The painter More bad signs.
The miser -Barely living.
The major- Rallying.
The cashier- Gone.
The actor- On the last stage.
The butcher -Less fat on bones.
The cobbler- Mending.
The jail prisoner- Will soon be out.
The lawyer Speechless.
The two grocers -On the verge of dissolution.
The musician -Toning up.
The carpenter Improving.
Jones's boy- Bad and growing worse.
The barber-Saved by a close shave.
The banker-- Failing.
The bootmaker Will not last long.
The pugilist Striking improvement.- Exchange.

THE number of men who can write legibly with the .
left hand is very small in this country, where the fact of
being ambidextrous is not appreciated at its full worth.
Sir Edwin Arnold stated that in Japan every child is
taught to write with either and both hands; and he hinted
that this was not the only evidence of sound common
sense he met with while in the kingdom of the mikado.


There have been many remedies suggested for what
is known as writer's cramp, and many writers alternate
between the pen and the type-writer, but the simplest
plan of all is to acquire the art of writing with either
hand and change from one to the other on the first sus-
picion of fatigue.
It is quite easy for a child to learn to write with the
left hand, and though after the muscles have got set with
age it is more difficult, almost any man can learn to write
with his left hand in a week, and to write as well with
one hand as the other in less than a year.-Boston Globe.

THE longest day of the year at Spitzbergen is three and
one half months. At Wardbury, Norway, the longest
day lasts from May 21 to July 22 without intermission.
At Tornea, Finland, June 21 is twenty-two hours long,
and Christmas has less than three hours of daylight. At
St. Petersburg the longest day is nineteen hours, and the
shortest is five hours. At London the longest day is six-
teen and one half hours; at Montreal it is sixteen hours,
and at New York it is about fifteen hours.-Exchange. I

THE way in which rivers, hills, and localities through-
out the land came by the names they bear is a subject of
wide and varied interest. The Picket Wire River in Col-
orado got its name by a singular process of free transla-
tion through two languages. Many years ago a number
of Mexicans started up the river gold-hunting. They
never returned, and their friends came to call the river El
Rio de los Animos Perdidos" (The River of Lost Souls).
Some time after, a French colony settled on the banks of the
river, and the name was freely translated into Le Pur-
gatoire." Later, along came the American cow-boy, and
in his large, off-hand way of rounding out difficulties, he
smoothed down the foreign twist of the French word, and
dubbed the stream "The Picket Wire River."-N. Y. Sun.

THE schools of Bath, Maine, have a practical way of
making pupils feel the rhythm of their songs. A pendu-
lum ball is hung so as to swing before the blackboard, and
a perpendicular line is drawn through the middle of the
arc made by the ball's motion. Time is marked with
great precision by the passing of the ball across this line.
-N. E. Journal of Education.

THE growth of the average finger-nail is an inch and a
half per year, or about one thirty-second of an inch per
week.--N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.

PROFESSOR Hermann Reiche, of animalfame,was asked
by an Evening Sun reporter which was the most expen-
sive animal to feed.
Elephants," he answered. "This is what one is fed
on daily: One truss and a half of hay, forty-two pounds
of turnips, one bushel of chaff and one half bushel of
bran mixed, ten pounds of warm mash, one bundle of
straw for bedding, which is invariably eaten before morn-
ing, and thirty-six pails of water.

THE rulers of the miniature Republicof Andorra decided
recently that the countryshould possess a cannon. Krupp,
therefore, was ordered to manufacture one of the most
modern type. The great gun arrived at its mountain
destination a short time ago and was placed on the high-
est point in the "country," so that the citizens could see
that the valley was well protected. A day was appointed
to try the cannon, which was able to send a ball eighteen
Just as the two artillerymen of Andorra were ready to
fire, it occurred to one of the prudent citizens that the shot
might cause some trouble. The territory of the Re-
public of Andorra does not extend over more than six
kilometers. To direct the shot, therefore, toward the sur-
rounding mountains would be the same as firing at France
or Spain, as the ball would necessarily fall on the territory
of one of these countries. A war might be the result. It
was then decided to shoot the ball in the air, but some
'one suggested that it would endanger the lives of too
many people in its descent, and possibly bore a great hole
in the Republic of Andorra. Good counsel prevailed, and
the two artillerymen were commanded to unload the gun.
The shot has not yet been fired, and the good repub-
licans are uncertain what to do with the expensive gun.
-Chicago Inter-Ocean.

IF I were.you, and had a friend
Who called, a pleasant hour to spend,
I 'd be polite enough to say:
"Ned, you may choose what games we '11 play."
That 's what I 'd do
If I were you.
If I were you and went to school,
I 'd never break the smallest rule;
And it should be my teacher's joy
To say she had no better boy.
And 't would be true
If I were you.
If I were you I 'd always tell
The truth, no matter what befell;
For two things only I despise:
A coward heart and telling lies.
And you would, too,
If I were you.
If I were you I 'd try my best
To do the things I here suggest.
Though since I am no one but me
I cannot very well, you see,
Know what I 'd do
If I were you.
-Nannie F. MacLean, in N. Y. Independent.


ONE thousand ships annually cross the Atlantic ocean.
The steamers between Europe and North America
carry on an average about 70,000 passengers a month.
Lloyd's Register" says that in the fifteen years end-
ing 1880, 1403 ships were missing and never again heard
of; 2753 were sunk by collision; 2903 were burned;
17,502 were stranded; 8026 were water-logged or other-
wise lost-a total loss in fifteen years of 32,587 vessels,
or over 200ooo a year.- Selected.



WE are obliged to Miss Clarissa S. Wilson, the great-
granddaughter of "Betsey Ross," n aker of the first
American flag, for the following correct ions of two slight
inaccuracies in the article upon the origin of "The Stars
and Stripes," published in ST. NICHOLAS for Septem-
ber, 1893.
Mrs. Ross was not a milliner, but an upholsterer; and
she was the fifth (not eighth) child of Samuel Griscom.

R. V. McL.- Dr. Charles A. Eastman, author of
"Recollections of the Wild Life," was born a Sioux
Indian, and was graduated at Dartmouth College, after-
ward practising medicine. A few years ago he married
Elaine Goodale, the well-known poet,-whose first
poems, by the way, were printed in this magazine.
Many of our older readers will recall with pleasure
the Poems by Two Little American Girls," printed in
ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1877, contributions from
Elaine and Dora Goodale.

Here is a letter from a young girl who thinks nothing
of walking ten miles in an afternoon:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your magazine comes to me
regularly here in Europe, and I thought you might like
to hear about this pretty little summer-resort of the Ger-
mans, twenty-five miles from Dresden, on the river Elbe.
There are many beautiful walks all through the moun-
tains. I took one the other day to a place called the
Kuhstal, meaning cow-stable "; it is so called because
in olden times the peasants used to drive their cattle
under it for safety in time of war. It is a five-mile walk
there, and we stopped on the way at a little restaurant
perched on a high rock. We had a glass of Miincher
beer, and a cup of bouillon with the yolk of an egg in it.
There was a clear trout-stream right in front of us. We
then continued our walk, and reached the Kuhstal at
five o'clock in the afternoon. There we found another
restaurant and a band of music. It was a Hungarian
band, composed of three men and three women. We
dropped a small coin in the cup they passed to us; it
was only ten pfennig (two cents), but that is the usual
fee. The Kuhstal is a large rock with an arch under
it; we walked under the arch, and had a beautiful view
of the mountains. Going down, we met people on horse-
back coming up. Papa and I arrived at Schandan at
seven o'clock in the evening, having walked ten miles
that afternoon. We found our little tea-table all ready
for us, under the trees in the garden, and we did full
justice to our supper. It says in Baedeker that the
Kuhstal is twenty feet high; but Papa says it must be at
least fifty feet. Your faithful reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy about nine and
a half years old. I have a brother and sister.

A boy larger than I am gave us a firefly elator, or
Pyrophorus noctilucus, a sort of beetle. He comes from
Brazil, and lives on sugar-cane. He lives in the marshes.
We put him in a box with holes in the top, and some
sugar-cane in the corner, and sponges around that. Then
we put him in the corner, and laid a soft, wet sponge on
top of him, for him to burrow in. He drinks the water
out of the sponge. At night we put him in a basin of
water, and he made a circle of green light around him.
One night he lit up the whole basin with his beautiful
light. He has two places back of his eyes, and one place
under his body, that make light at night. If you hold
him by his sides and move him along the line, you can
read the finest print. If you have five or six in a bottle,
you can write by their light. Good-by.
W. F. V- .
There are, besides, fireflies, glow-worms,--and many
other light-giving creatures. Who-can send us a list of

A Spanish boy sends this summery letter. He need
make no apology for so well-written a description. Few
American nine-year-oldsters could do better-if as well!

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy nine years old.
I was born in Spain, in a small town called Malgrat, on
the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. The house we live
in during the summer is the only one in the town which
has a garden around it. The other houses have their
gardens behind them. When we go in our garden there
is a nice perfume, because there are so many flowers.
We also have fruit-trees--pears, peaches, nectarines,
plums, and pomegranates.
To go up to the piazza, there are marble steps. In-
stead of a railing there are flower-pots with rose-bushes,
geraniums, gardenias, fuchsias, etc. From the terrace,
at the top of the house, we see a beautiful sight-the
sea and many little boats to the east, and to the west a
range of mountains. On top of one of the mountains
are the ruins of a castle. The people say that Moors
used to live there, but it is not true; it was a feudal castle.
On the beach there are half ships; sailors live in some
of them, in others they put their oars, also other things.
I hope you will excuse my mistakes, for I am Spanish
and know only a little English, because dear Grandpa
was an American. One of your readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been a member of
our family since '74. My father used to be assistant
editor in your office, and since his death you have been
kind enough to send me ST. NICHOLAS each .month,
for which I thank you very much. I always seize the
volume whenever it comes, and feast upon it in my
playtime. I thought "The White Cave" was a splendid
story, and so is "Toinette's Philip."
I go to Dulwich College, one of the biggest public
schools in England; there are eight hundred or more
boys. I am thirteen years old, and go by train to school


every morning. It has a very large playground, also a
laboratory, a workshop, a gymnasium, a swimming-bath,
a brass band, an orchestra, a choir, a rifle corps, and some
five-courts. The founder was Edward Alleyn, and the
present head master is Mr. A. H. Gilkes.
There are boys at school here from all parts of the
world; in my class there is one from the West Indies.
I do not want to impose on your good nature by giv-
ing you a long epistle, so I will end up here with my
heartiest good wishes for ST. NICHOLAS.
Your constant reader, E. S. T- .

As a variety, after the German, Spanish, and English
letters, here is a greeting from the Sunrise Kingdom."
Notice what the writer says about America being a land
of wonders to a boy familiar with Japan.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you since '90,
and like you as much as ever.
I have spent all my life of twelve years in Japan,
excepting one year, from the spring of '89 to the spring
of '90, when my parents and all members of our family
were in America. As myself and sisters and brothers
were all born in Japan, America was a veritable wonder-
land to us, and I need not add that we enjoyed it much.
We are now living in Tokio, the capital of the Japanese
empire, and the summers get very hot in this latitude-
so hot that foreigners find it necessary, in order to keep
in good health, to go away to the mountains during
August at least. The natives, of course, get along bet-
ter, although as many of them as can do so escape to the
mountains, too, for a while. Last summer we went to a
place called Gotenba, which is about seventy miles from
Tokio, and thirteen from the base of Fuji, the sacred
mountain of Japan, which was in full view from the
Japanese house in which we lived. I amused myself
while in Gotenba chiefly in collecting butterflies, bugs -
in fact, almost every living thing I came across, includ-
ing snakes, frogs, and toads. think the toads of Japan
would amuse the readers of ST. NICHOLAS very much.
They are far more dignified, I judge, than those found
in America. They have a way of walking along paths,
or across verandas, or wherever their business or plea-
sure takes them, in a staid fashion, giving no sign of
any excitement whatever. Once, this summer, I caught
a toad with two young ones, one of them much larger
than the other, and put them in a pen with another
large toad. They all jumped over the fence, excepting
the smaller of the two young ones, and got off, and I let
the young one go. It seemed a little hard to keep him
there alone. Afterward I found these same toads at
the same place where I caught them before. I left
them there for some time, and then the smallest of them
died. After that I made a cart with a yoke, and hitched
up the two remaining toads. They walked off with the
cart easily, like a well-trained team.
I caught quite a large number of insects and several
snakes to add to my collection, during bur stay in
Gotenba. With all good wishes, I remain your friend,
CARL W. B--.

The following letter has no date, but we join none
the less heartily in wishing for the athletic brother's
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little German girl, and
I have not been long in this country. My mama is an
American lady, and that is why I have an American
name. I was very sorry to leave my dear Fatherland,

but I like America very much, because it has ST. NICHO-
LAS. I do hope I shall see this letter printed. I am
nine years old, and I have a brother ten years old, who
plays foot-ball. I hope he will not get hurt; do not you?
Affectionately your little friend, RUTHIE G-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: If any of the readers of ST.
NICHOLAS are as fond of spelling-matches as I was and
am, I think they might derive some benefit and pleasure
by reading aloud for dictation and writing, as one would
at school, without too much deliberation, the following
sentence, which was given me some time ago, with, I am
sorry to say, a rather bad result; and I am quite sure
they will be surprised, as I was and have been, to find
that words so commonly used should be so commonly
It would be difficult to conceive a more embarrassing
and unparalleled case than an harassed peddler trying
to gauge a peeled pear with a symmetrical poniard."
J. B. C-.
We have seen a longer sentence containing these words
and others- two of the new hard words were "sibyl"
and "ecstasy." Who can send it all?

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been sent to me for a
long time, and I send you a story that my father told me.
Mr. Johnson was sitting at his desk when an Irishman
entered and said:
I have a spot on my trousers, and would like to know
if you have any ammonia in the office."
"Yes; we have some in the back part of the office,
but it is not labeled."
"Well, how shall I know which is it ? "
"Oh, well, you can smell it," said Mr. Johnson, not
noticing what he said.
So off went the Irishman, and in a little while Mr.
Johnson heard a veryjloud Ouch! and the Irishman
came in and said:
Sure, it's that bottle has the powerful draft "
Sincerely yours, KATHARINE W-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl of twelve
years. My name is Lillian H- I want to tell you
of a little story I saw the other day:
Our neighbor's cow, Monkey," is generally pastured
in the. back part of his land. She is very fond of a
striped cat named Tiger." One day Tiger was in the
pasture, with Monkey, catching grasshoppers. Suddenly
two little dogs came rushing upon poor Tiger. She gave
an indignant spit at them, and was just starting to run
away when Monkey saw the dogs and rushed at them
with lowered head. The dogs ran yelping away, and the
cat was saved. The dogs would certainly have caught
her if it had not been for the cow, because there were no
trees near by for her to run up, and the dogs were too
close upon her to escape. It really does seem as if
Monkey ran at the dogs to save Tiger, of whom she was
so fond. Your loving reader, LILLIAN H- .
Now, don't the names make that rather a puzzling,
menagerie sort of letter? A cow, Monkey, saves a cat,
Tiger, who was catching grasshoppers, from two dogs-
could their names have been Rhinoceros and Giraffe ?


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letters
from Tacoma, so I thought I would write to you. In the
summer we go to Misqually, where we live in a log-cabin
on the prairies. One night we heard something scratch-
ing on the door. Then the horse began to kick and the
rabbit was almost scared to death.
The boys went out the back door and found it was a
cougar. It ran all along the table we ate on, into the
woods. Misqually is about eighteen miles from Tacoma.
I send you a photograph of the Olive Bank that my
sister took- one ofthe largest sailing-ships in the world.
She is built of steel, is three hundred and twenty-five
feet long, and has four masts. She has just come to
Tacoma, and is going to take four thousand long tons of
wheat to England. There are about fifty ships come
here every year for wheat, and from my window I can
see them loading.
Very sincerely, FLORENCE H- .
Misqually is a strange name for a town; but as a name
for some little girls-well, perhaps we 'd better turn to
the next letter:

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: There are quite a good many
Indians around here, for there is a reservation near here.
Among them is a chief whose Indian name, "Sis-moc-
nu," means in English, "No Shirt." There is another
called Charlie Billy," and he is a little deaf; he often
comes to see us. He most always has so many dogs
with him. Charlie Billy's Indian name means "Long
Claws." My father is the agent here for the Union
Pacific, and we live in the station.
I am taking lessons on the piano and like it very much.
I will have to close now.
Your interested reader, GRACE V. B-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy nine years
old, and always look forward with pleasure to receive
my ST. NICHOLAS. We have a piazza all around our
house, with thick honeysuckles climbing about it, in
which three little birds made their nests; one of them
was a robin's nest. One day, early in the morning, we
saw the mother robin and her three little ones standing
on the edge of the nest, ready for their first flight. Two
of the birds flew with their mother, but the third one was
too weak to fly, so it stayed in the nest until the afternoon.
Then, thinking it was strong enough, the little robin tried
its wings, and flew into the road. My governess caught
him and brought him into the house. Papa took the nest
down, in which we placed him; we kept him two days
and tried to feed him, but he would not eat, so we put
him on the lawn, where he called for his mother; but,
although near, she did not pay any attention to her poor
little bird, and we thought he would starve, but a young
sparrow took pity on him and fed him, so he got along
very nicely.
From time to time he comes back and sits on the
piazza or hedge, and once he allowed us to catch him.
We all said good-by to him, and let him fly.
Your devoted little reader, WILFRID A. O- .
A careful reading of the above letter (which we print
just as it was written) will show how useful pronouns
are. And it also shows the young writer is a good ob-
server and states facts clearly.

These two letters are from a brother and sister living
in Bath, England:
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: There are three of us-my
brother Dick, Mildred, and myself, and we have taken
you for about five years. I think you one of the best
magazines out. As my brother is telling you about our
beautiful old city, I think I shall write of our summer holi-
days. We have just returned from spending a month at
Ilfracombe, a seaside place in North Devon, and we
enjoyed our visit very much. We are very familiar with
the little town, for we have been there every August for
the last ten years.
One lovely morning, six of us started to go to Clovelly,
a charming little village also on the Devonshire coast,
but just as we were prepared to go on the steamer we
were told that they had already as many passengers as
she was able to carry. We were, of course, rather dis-
appointed, but decided to try again the following day,
and this time were successful. We had a very jolly day,
the only thing against us being the heat: it was simply
scorching. On landing, which was accomplished in small
boats, as there is no pier, we had lunch at the "New
Inn," though the name is by no means appropriate now.
The walls of the little dining-room were quite covered
with bits of curious old china, which we were told was
very valuable.
We next started to see the church, which is very old;
we had a lovely walk, partly through the grounds of
Clovelly Court, and then, after examining the church
and quaint old cemetery, we drove through the famous
"Hobby Drive." This road was blasted from the side
of a cliff years ago, and has earned its name, as the
building of it was the hobby of the gentleman who then
owned Clovelly. I fear my letter will soon be too long
to print, so I must conclude with love, and hoping you
will let it appear in ST. NICHOLAS.
Your affectionate reader, DOROTHY K- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for five
years, and like you very much. We live at Bath, in
England. It is a very old town; there are a number of
old Roman baths and remains. A lot of invalids suffer-
ing from rheumatism, gout, etc., come here to drink and
bathe in the mineral water which comes up boiling from
the ground. Every year we have a very large horse-show
here. There are a lot of horses, and they have to jump
over banks, poles, fences, gates, and. water.
On the marriage of the Duke of York, the town,
where I go to school, was lit up in the evening; there
was a water carnival; all the boats were lit up with fairy
lamps in all kinds of devices. During my holidays I
ride a little pony; I am very fond of it. There is a very
old mansion here, where Queen Elizabeth used to stay,
and also a beautiful old abbey.
I am your loving reader, R. W. K- .

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Marjorie M.,
Catherine E., Mabel R. H., B., Anna M. S., Henrietta
B. L., Otto W. J., Helen S. J., C. L. A., Clare A.,
J. M., Genevieve S., "Aunt Cloe," Louise B., Madeline
C. R., Dorothy R., Agnes S., Charles D. R., Mary B.
H., D. F., Bertha S. and Rosebud F. M., Lewis F. H.,
Clarence S., Sarah F. W., Alma R., Eunice E. B., Grace
M. S., Mabel W., Marion F., Pauline B. W.


A FLUMINOUS ENIGMA. The Clermont." x. Tagus. 2. Hoang- ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centrals, Anlace. Cross-
Ho. 3. Euphrates. 4. Congo. 5. Lena. 6. Elbe. 7. Rhone. words: i. chAin. 2. hiNge. 3. taLon. 4. flAme. 5. maCaw.
8. Mekong. 9. Obi. zo. Nile. ii. Tiber. 6. heEls.
DOUBLE OCTAGONS. Across: i. Leg. 2. Liars. 3. Angel. 4. De- NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
lay. 5. Net. Hark! Hark! the music of the merry chime!
Proud Winter comet like a warrior bold! The king is dead! God's blessing on the king!
PI. Proud Winter cometh like a warrior bold Welcome with gladness this new King of Time.
His icy lances flashing in the light, Welcome with gladness this new King of Time.
His shield the night, starred bright with glittering gold, CONNECTED DIAMONDS. I. 2 Tab. 3. Tabor. 4. Ta-
His mail the silver frost-work, dazzling, bright! baret. 5. Bored. 6. Red. 7. T. II. I. T. 2. Par. S. Panel.
He turns his stem face to the north, and waits 4. Tanager. 5. Reget. 6. Let. 7. R. III. T. 2. Lac.
To hear his wind-steeds burst from heaven's gates. 3. Labor. 4. Tabular. 5. Colin. 6. Ran. 6. R. IV. x. R.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Vincent Crummles; finals, Nn- Ma Medal. 4. Radical. Raced. LadRobin Hood.
etta Crummles. Cross-words: I. Vicarious. 2. Include. 3. Natal. AN ARROW. Across: Flat. 2. Arras. 3. Robin Hood.
4. Cataclysm. 5. Emblem. 6. Nylgau. 7. Tartar. 8. Catholic. 4. Motet. 5. Yaws.
9. Romola. Io. Untaught. I. Motet. a2. Magpie. 13. Loosen. METAMORPHOSES. I. Old, eld, ell, all, all, aid, bid, bit, bet, net,
04. Ennui. xs. Sermon. new. II. Blue, flue, flee, fled, feed, fend, bend, band, bank, bunk,
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Oaths. 2. Agree. 3. Train. 4. Heirs. punk, pink. III. Rain, rail, sail, said, slid, sled, slew, slow, snow.
5. Sense. II. i. Acerb. 2. Cavil. 3. Evade. 4. Ridge. 5. Bleed. CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Columbus.
C. B. S. AND OTHERS: Any one, whether a regular subscriber or not, is at liberty to send puzzles to the Riddle-box. Those that
cannot be used will be returned, if a stamp is inclosed.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 15th, from Alice Mildred Blanke
and Co.-"The Wise Five"-"M. McG."- Josephine Sherwood-Maude E. Palmer- Isabel, Mama, and Jamie- L. O. E.-
E. M. G.-" Uncle Mung"-Jo and I-Ida C. Thallon-"Midwood"-Helen C. McCleary-John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman-
Maud and Dudley Banks E. Kellogg Trowbridge -" Seul Choix "- No Name, E. 67th St.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 15th, from Elaine S., --Paul Reese, io-
"H. M. Myself," 7-Grace Isabel, I--N. A. Kellogg, --Florence Cowles, i--James R. J. Kindelon, --" Daisy and Dan," i-
Carrie Chester, Will Turner, 2 -"Alaine," Estelle Grace C., E. R. Wainwright, i -Clara L., 2-Jacob Schmitt, --Mary
Lewis, 2- "Amillius Paullus," I Ira F. Wildey, 2- Geo. S. Seymour, 8--Mama, Sadie, and Jamsie, 9 -G. B. Dyer, so--Helen
C. Bennett, 4- Hortense E. W., 4-" Whahah," 5- Hubert L. Bingay, 8- Alma Rosenberg, 5--Adele Clark, I Willie Bixby, 5-
Isabelle R. McCurdy, 3--Blanche and Fred, ix-Bessie R. Crocker, so--"Peggy," x-Elino Barras and helpers, 3-- Jefferson
Place," 7--Bessie W., 6-Chester B. Sumner, x --Anna R. Stiles, I--Harry and Helen, 9-B. M. Strahan, 3-Margaret A.
Bronner, I.


ALL the words pictured contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, in the order numbered, the diagonal (from the
upper left-hand letter to the lower right-hand letter) will
spell the name of a famous German writer, who, during
the eighty years of his life, is said to have never traveled
more than seven miles from his native city.


WHEN the following cities have been rightly guessed
and placed one below the other, the initial letters will
spell a name by which London is sometimes called.
I. A city of New Jersey. 2. A city of the West Indies.
3. A city of Illinois. 4. A city of Ohio. 5. A city of
Iowa. 6. A city of New York. 7. A city of Michigan.
8. A city of New York. 9. A city of Italy. Io. A city of
Tennessee. II. A city of Greece. 12. A city of Massa-
chusetts. 13. A city of Ohio. 14. A city of California.

MY first, though only half, is yet the same as middle;
My second's always "good," and "she," though why 's
a riddle;
My third is always "he" and sometimes very bad;
My whole, though often small, is elegantly clad;
The smallest of its kind, it's something very breezy,
And when you find it out, you '11 say, "I know-it's
easy! T. J.

I. i. To hinder from growing to the natural size.
2. A pledge. 3. To coincide. 4. Pastoral pipes. 5. New
and strong.
II. I. Sorcery. 2. Solitary. 3. Pierces. 4. Very
slow to act. 5. Girdles.
III. i. Grates harshly upon. 2. A tree. 3. A merry
frolic. 4. The surname of an English dramatist. 5. To
speak derisively.


S_ : I AM composed of sev-
S enty-one letters, and form
)_ -a quotation from Shaks-
S pere.
My 60-17 is a pronoun.
S My 46-28-56-44 is some-
thing to keep the hands
warm. My 51-12-7 is that
which is woven. My 32-
65-38-2-71 is portly. My
35-64-47-20-50 is to raise.
My 41-49-16-8-68 is a
color. My 23-52-4-31 is a
legendary queen of Carthage. My 13-58-6-22-63 is to
reproach with severe or insulting words. My 54-10-
40-37-33-19 is a burrowing animal. My 69-43-1-29-57
is a large cervine animal. My 45-2[-61-15-62-27-14 is
a bright-colored singing bird. My 9-67-5-59-24-55
70-36-34-11-42-30 is a long-winged sea-bird. My 26-
65-53-48-25-3-39-18 is a curious animal peculiar to Aus-
tralia and the adjacent islands. L. w.


EACH blank is to be filled by a word of six letters.
No two words are alike, though the same six letters,
properly arranged, may be used to make the six missing
A country lad, by gaudy . lured,
Came to ...... .and tookthe sergeant's shilling;
Much pain he suffered, many woes endured,
As 'prentice to the noble art of killing.
HIe would not ...... to his friends' advice,
And so they all were . at the last.
Death found one day the . to his life,
And as his soul from battle's uproar passed,
Vile coin," he cried, that ... now my purse.
'T is thou, base bride, deserves now my curse."
J. M. cox.
I .


S 3 .
I. CROSS-WORDS: I. A large revolving platform, for
turning locomotives in a different direction. 2. Hand-
books. 3. To tear into small pieces. 4. A number. 5. In
hour-glass. 6. The goddess of vengeance. 7. A charac-

ter in Dickens's story of "Nicholas Nickleby." 8. Ruf-
fled. 9. The outlining timbers of a building.
From I to 2, deflects; from 2 to 3, a short set of steps;
from I to 3, the first thing that turned to greet the visitor
at Jackson Park.
II. CROSS-WORDS: I. One who cajoles. 2. To release
from slavery. 3. An engraver's tool. 4. An insect. 5. In
hour-glass. 6. Consumed. 7. Anoisy quarrel. 8. A 6orn-
house. 9. Punishment inflicted in return for an injury.
From I to 2, ferments; from 2 to 3, fourteen pounds;
from I to 3, a limicoline bird. L. W.


*~~ ~ 5
x S *
S s -r *s *
5 5
S 5

beverage. 3. To acknowledge. 4. A descendant of
Shem. 5. A sea-duck. 6. A sailor. 7. In lady.
color. 3. A runner. 4. A crying down. 5. To con-
descend. 6. Moved quickly. 7. In lady.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In lady. 2. A color.
3. To come back. 4. Numbered by tens. 5. Short and
thick. 6. A line of light. 7. In lady.
bricklayer's box. 3. The most famous of Greek poets.
4. Shapedlikeadome. 5. Toentrap. 6. Afish. 7. Inlady.
deviate from the line of a ship's course. 3. A boat used
only for pleasure-trips. 4. Pertaining to milk. 5. A
young animal. 6. To strike gently. 7. In lady.
F. W. F.
ALL the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below
the other, the central letters will spell the name of a
CROSS-WORDS: I. A native prince of India. 2. A
method of propelling a boat. 3. Very swift. 4. To slip.
5. Deadly. 6. A carnivorous animal. 7. An herbivorous



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