Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Decatur and somers
 How curious?
 Ana Mana Mona Mike
 Some ancient musical instrumen...
 Nonsense verses
 The beautiful ballad of Lady...
 A few of our fur-bearers
 Recollections of the wild life
 The brownies through the union
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 A model speller
 The scholar and the parrot
 Washington Irving
 A supposition
 When King Kijolly hunting goes
 Peril among the pearls
 The difficult seed
 A four-leafed clover in the...
 The mob of blots
 Rhymes of the states
 Finding a treaure
 Waterproof folk
 The artist's daughter
 The turkey's nest
 Through the scissors
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00283
 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: VID00283
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 Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Decatur and somers
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
        Page 582
        Page 583
        Page 584
        Page 585
        Page 586
        Page 578
    How curious?
        Page 587
    Ana Mana Mona Mike
        Page 587
    Some ancient musical instruments
        Page 588
        Page 589
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
        Page 593
        Page 594
        Page 595
    Nonsense verses
        Page 596
    The beautiful ballad of Lady Lee
        Page 597
        Page 598
        Page 599
    A few of our fur-bearers
        Page 600
        Page 601
        Page 602
        Page 603
        Page 604
        Page 605
        Page 606
    Recollections of the wild life
        Page 607
        Page 608
        Page 609
        Page 610
        Page 611
    The brownies through the union
        Page 612
        Page 613
        Page 614
        Page 615
        Page 616
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 617
        Page 618
        Page 619
        Page 620
        Page 621
        Page 622
        Page 623
        Page 624
        Page 625
        Page 626
    A model speller
        Page 627
        Page 628
    The scholar and the parrot
        Page 629
    Washington Irving
        Page 630
        Page 631
        Page 632
        Page 633
        Page 634
        Page 635
    A supposition
        Page 636
    When King Kijolly hunting goes
        Page 637
    Peril among the pearls
        Page 638
        Page 639
        Page 640
        Page 641
    The difficult seed
        Page 642
        Page 643
    A four-leafed clover in the desert
        Page 644
        Page 645
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
        Page 649
        Page 650
    The mob of blots
        Page 651
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 652
        Page 653
        Page 654
    Finding a treaure
        Page 655
    Waterproof folk
        Page 655
        Page 656
    The artist's daughter
        Page 657
    The turkey's nest
        Page 657
    Through the scissors
        Page 658
        Page 659
    The letter-box
        Page 660
        Page 661
        Page 662
    The riddle-box
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Unnumbered ( 92 )
        Unnumbered ( 93 )
        Unnumbered ( 94 )
        Unnumbered ( 95 )
        Unnumbered ( 96 )
Full Text


Fi :i':~


1140 GEARY

jjr` L

A: '-.


MAY, 1894.

No. 7


THE blue and beautiful Delaware Bay, bathed
in a faint haze, looked its loveliest one evening
about sunset, in June, 1798. The atmosphere
was clear, and, although there was no moon,
the stars were coming out brilliantly in the sky,
that was of a darker blue than the water. The
sun had gone down, but the west was yet rosy.
The green, low-lying country around looked in-
effably peaceful, and the only sound that broke
the charmed silence was the rattling of the cap-
stan, as a noble frigate, lying out in the offing,
got up her anchors.
Although the brief, enchanted twilight was
over all the earth and sea, the graceful outlines
of this lovely frigate were clearly defined against
the opaline sky. She was stoutly sparred, but
in such exquisite proportion that, from her rail
up, she had the delicate beauty of a yacht.
But one look at her lofty hull, and the menac-
ing armament she carried, showed that she
could both fight and run. Every rope and
every spar was shipshape and Bristol fashion."

Her bright work shone like gold, and the rows
of glistening hammocks in the nettings were as
white as snow. Everything about her was
painted an immaculate white, except the hull,
which was a polished black. A gorgeous fig-
urehead ornamented her keen bows, and across
her stern, in great gold letters, was her name:
"United States." Such, indeed, was her offi-
cial name, but, from the day she had first
taken the water, she had been nicknamed "Old
Wagoner," because of the steadiness with which
she traveled. Other vessels might be delayed
by vexing calms, but Old Wagoner was pretty
sure to strike a favoring breeze that seemed
specially reserved for her. And she could go
through a roaring gale like a stormy petrel, and
come out of it without losing a sail or a spar.
A little way off from Old Wagoner lay a trim
and handsome little sloop-of-war, carrying
twenty guns,-" The Delaware," a fit com-
panion for the great frigate. On both ships
were indications of speedy departure, and all
the orderly bustle that precedes the making sail
on a ship-of-war. The boats were all hoisted
in except the first cutter, and that was being

Copyright, x894, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.




pulled rapidly across the fast darkening water.
In it was a very young lieutenant, who was af-
terward to distinguish himself as Commodore
Stewart, and two young midshipmen, just
joined; and each of the three was destined to
add something to the reputation that Old Wag-
oner gained in after years, of having been a
nursery of naval heroes.
Both of these young midshipmen were about
eighteen. One of them, Decatur, looked older,
from his height and strength, as well as from
his easy and confident address. The other,
Somers, seemed younger, because of a singu-
larly quiet and diffident manner. The lieuten-
ant in the stem-sheets, engaged in steering the
cutter through the mist upon the water, without
colliding with any of the fishing-smacks with
which the bay was dotted, yet found time to
ask some questions of the young midshipmen,
with whom he had long been well acquainted.
"I think you two have always been together,
have you not?" he asked, keeping meanwhile
a bright lookout around him.
"Yes," answered Decatur, "we have been
together ever since we were born, it seems to
mie. We remember you when we were at
school in Philadelphia-although you were so
much older than we."
"I recollect you both perfectly," answered
Stewart, although you were such little fellows.
Somers was the quietest fellow in the school,
and you, Decatur, were the noisiest."
I believe you," said Decatur, laughing. I
could have gone with my father in the Del-
aware,"- pointing to the smart little sloop-
of-war,-" but I could not think of leaving
Somers to fight it out in the steerage of the
United States all by himself."
At this, Somers turned his eyes on Stewart,
with a laugh in them. They were very black
and soft and full of humor, although Somers
neither laughed nor talked much.
Don't mind Decatur, Mr. Stewart," he said.
Captain Decatur did n't want him on the
"I should think not," replied Stewart. "I
can't imagine anything more uncomfortable
than for a captain to have his own son among
the junior officers."
"Just what my father said," added Decatur;

"and, besides, he really did tell me he would
like to keep Somers and me together for our
first cruise because Somers is such a steady
old coach that he is fit to be the guardian of
every midshipman in the navy."
"I wish there were more like him, then,"
said Stewart, with rather a grim smile, remem-
bering what a larky set of youngsters the
steerage of Old Wagoner harbored.
Let me give you each one piece of advice,"
he added, as they drew close to the frigate's
great black hull, that loomed up darkly in the
purple haze. Decatur, do you be rather care-
ful what you say to your messmates. Somers,
do you be careful what you allow your mess-
mates to say to you. Decatur will be too
quick to take the other midshipmen up, and
you, Somers, will be too slow."
"Thank you," said both Somers and Decatur
together, for they appreciated Stewart's few
words of caution.
Just then the band on the poop of Old Wag-
oner burst into "The Girl I Left Behind Me."
The music rang charmingly over the darkening
water, and the capstan rattled around at the
liveliest possible rate, while the men worked
inspired by the melody. The boat was quickly
brought alongside, and just as Stewart and the
two young midshipmen stepped on board,
the officer of the deck called out the quick
order, Strike the bell eight! Call the watch."
The boatswain, with his mates, had been
standing ready, and, as soon as eight bells
were struck, he piped up "Attention!" and was
answered by all his mates in quick succession.
Then he blew a musical, winding call, ending
suddenly by singing out in a rich bass, "All
the watch! The men came tumbling up the
While the busy commotion of relieving the
watch was going on, Decatur and Somers were
paying their respects to Commodore Barry,
who commanded the ship, an old Revolution-
ary officer, handsome and seamanlike, who
gloried in his beautiful ship, and was every
inch a sailor.
The wind had been stealing up for some
little time, and, as soon as the anchor was
lifted, Old Wagoner shook out all her plain
sails, and shaped her course for the open sea.


Decatur and Somers, on going below, were
introduced to their messmates, Bainbridge,
Spence, and others, and were shown where
to sling their hammocks. Decatur directed
everything in their joint arrangements.
When, at two o'clock the next day, dinner
was served in the steerage, Old Wagoner
was dashing along in great style, with every
sail drawing like a windlass.
At dinner, the prospects of their cruise were

ner, his fine figure, and his ready laugh, became
instantly popular. Somers's quietness was not
very well understood; and, before the day
was out, Decatur was asked, with the frank-
ness of the steerage, if Somers was n't rather
a milksop ?"
"You think so?" answered Decatur, with a
grin. "Very well. I 've known Somers ever
since I was born. We went to our first school
together,-and our last,-and I tell you, for

. . .. ...... __ .... .- ... ...- .-.... --_ .4

freely discussed. The frigate and the sloop-of-
war were under orders to sail for the West In-
dies, and to clear out the great number of fleet
French privateers that were playing havoc with
American commerce. Every midshipman fully
believed that they would return from the cruise
covered with glory, and with thousands of dol-
lars each, in prize-money. With a lot of merry,
careless young midshipmen, the roseate hue al-
ways prevails. Decatur, with his dashing man-

your own good, that you had better mind your
p's and q's with that sort of a milksop."
Everything progressed very pleasantly for the
first day or two; but it was impossible for two
new arrivals in the steerage to escape the
"running" which, according to the code pre-
vailing there, makes a man of a midshipman.
Decatur having achieved immediate popularity,
the pranks played on him were comparatively
mild, and were taken with laughing good-


nature. Somers also was amiable enough; in
fact, he was too amiable, for his messmates
rather resented his want of spirit, as they mis-
takenly thought it. Therefore it was that, three
times in one day, Somers was told that he was
"too fond of the lee of the mizzenmast."
"That means," said Somers quietly, and look-
ing in the face the youngster who last made the
remark, that you think I have n't much spunk.
Very well. We shall both be off duty until
to-night. Could n't we go to some quiet place
in the hold where we could have it out?"
Fighting is strictly prohibited," sung out
Bainbridge, one of the older midshipmen.
" But if you two fellows must fight, why have
it out like gentlemen, and no bad blood after-
Just what I think," said Somers; and, as
I hate fighting, I want to get through with all I
shall have to do in that way, in as short a time
as possible; so I will settle with two other
young gentlemen, against whom I have an ac-
count, to-day. Then, I shall get only one
hauling over the coals for three scrimmages.
Decatur, you settle the particulars." And he
walked off as composed as ever.
"I told you fellows what a Trojan Somers
was when he was started," remarked Decatur;
"and now you '11 see for yourselves. He is
wiry and as strong as a buffalo, and he is first-
class with his fists, and--well, you '11 see."
At these little affairs, fair play was the watch-
word, and all of the midshipmen who were off
duty assembled to see the fun.
When Somers had knocked the wind out of
his first adversary, and brought him to apolo-
gize, it was proposed that the other affairs
should be postponed. But Somers, being in for
it, and the exercise rather warming his blood,
invited his persecutor number two to come
on." He came on, with disastrous results in the
way of a swelled nose. The third encounter
being proposed, Decatur begged Somers to be
allowed to take his place.
"Why, I 'm like Paul Jones," cried Somers,
laughing, as he sponged off his head and neck,-
"' I have n't begun to fight yet.'"
True it was that Somers was then perfectly
able to vanquish number three in fine style. As
he stood over his opponent, who frankly ac-

knowledge himself whipped, a cheer went up
from the surrounding audience of midshipmen.
That day's work established Somers's popu-
larity in the steerage, and the three midship-
men whom he had pommeled became his
stanch friends.
Decatur gave immediate promise of brilliancy
as a seaman, but Somers was not far behind,
and his uncommon steadiness recommended
him highly to the lieutenants. Stewart, dining
one night in the cabin with the commodore,
was giving his impressions of the junior officers
to the commander, who wished to appoint a
master's mate of the hold-a place always
given to the most reliable and best informed
of the midshipmen.
"They are all as fine a lot of youngsters,
sir, as I ever saw. That young Decatur is a
remarkable fellow. He finds out more than
any of the rest, because he never has to ask
the same thing twice. Before he had been on
board a week, he knew every rope and where
they were belayed; and the clever youngster
writes with a pencil behind the rail everything
he is told. There 's a very good manual of
seamanship written under the starboard rail,
and Decatur and Somers may be seen every
day, when they are not on duty, putting their
heads together and studying it out."
"And how about young Somers ? asked
the commodore.
Somers is the only one who rivals Decatur
-and I must say I consider him the best bal-
anced young fellow of his age I ever knew.
His messmates have nicknamed him Old Re-
liable.' He is not so brilliant as Decatur, but
he is steady to the utmost degree. Nothing
flusters him. He is never too early, and never
too late; he goes on his way quietly. And he
has had only one reproof since he has been on
board. And he evidently studied seamanship
thoroughly before he was commissioned-just
what I should expect of such a long-headed
"Then Somers shall be master's mate of the
hold," said the commodore, decisively.
Next day, Somers was sent for to the cabin,
and informed of the commodore's choice. He
said merely, "Thank you, sir; I shall do my



Somers went down to the midshipmen's din-
ner that day, and said nothing of his appoint-
ment. Each of the reefers was eager to get the
place of trust, and they began talking of it.
Somers wished to tell them of his good fortune,
but a sort of bashfulness restrained him. He
turned red, though, and became more silent
than usual. Decatur, who sat next him,
looked keenly at him.
Somers, something is up, I see,- and I be-
lieve I believe you are going to be master's
mate," he said. Somers blushed more than
ever, as he announced, "I am master's mate.
I was appointed to-day." Decatur, with one
stretch of his powerful arm, raised his chum
up standing.
"You good-for-nothing lubber--you are
made master's mate? While Bainbridge, and
Spence, and all the rest of us that are worth
ten of you, are passed over! I 'm going to
prefer charges against the commodore for gross
favoritism in giving you the appointment."
Somers always submitted to this sort of horse-
play from Decatur without the slightest resis-
tance, and the effect was very comical. De-
catur, after shaking him vigorously, plumped
him back in his chair, when Somers calmly re-
sumed his dinner as if nothing had occurred.
In the midst of the jollity, a commotion was
heard overhead, and the cry of "Sail, ho!"
In another moment, all the midshipmen made
a dash for the gangway, and ran up on deck.
Nearly every officer of the frigate was there
too. Commodore Barry, glass in hand, watched,
from the flying bridge, a sail off the starboard
quarter. By the squareness of the yards and
the symmetry of her sails, she was evidently a
ship-of-war, and was coming down fast. The
little Delaware, which sailed as well as Old
Wagoner, was close by to starboard.
Commodore Barry, who was a veteran of
the glorious days of Paul Jones and the gal-
lant though infant navy of the Revolution, was
more than willing to engage. Every moment
showed more and more clearly the character
and force of the stranger.
The day was bright and cloudless, and, as
they were in the sunny atmosphere of West
India waters, objects could be seen at a great
distance. The frigate was remarkably hand-

some, and sailed well. The Americans counted
more than twenty portholes, and very accu-
rately guessed her to be one of the great fifty-
gun frigates of which both the French and
English had many at that day. If she were
French it meant a fight; and so nearlymatched
were the two frigates that it would be the
squarest sort of a fight.
The excitement on the ship was intense.
Several of the more active officers clambered
up the shrouds, while the rigging was full of
men eager to make out the advancing ship,
which was coming along at a good gait. And
all were eager to know what colors the com-
modore would show.
"Mr. Ross," said Commodore Barry, turning
to his first lieutenant, "we will show French
colors, for, if he is a 'Mounseer,' it will en-
courage him to make our acquaintance."
The quartermaster, Danny Dixon, a hand-
some, fresh-faced sailor of middle age, who
had served under the immortal Paul Jones,
quickly produced French colors, and, amid
breathless silence, he ran them up.
The stranger was now not more than a mile
distant. She had worn no colors, but, on see-
ing French colors run up at the American
frigate's peak, in another moment she too dis-
played the tricolored flag of France.
At that, an involuntary cheer broke from the
gallant fellows on Old Wagoner. Decatur,
behind the commodore's back, deliberately
turned a handspring, while even the dignified
Somers executed a slight pirouette.
As for the men, they dropped down upon the
deck from the rigging, like magic, and every
man ran to his station. Commodore Barry
straightened himself up, and the old fire of bat-
tle that had slumbered since the glorious days
of the Revolution, shone in his eyes, under his
shaggy brows.
"Mr. Ross," said he, turning to his first
lieutenant, "we are in good luck in excellent
good luck, sir. Signal to the Delaware to keep
off. I think the officers and men of this ship
would feel hurt if we should mar the beauty of
the game we are about to play, by having odds
in our favor. And call the men to quarters
without the tap of drum. The first man who
cheers until we have hailed, will be sent below


to remain until after the engagement. I desire
to come to close quarters without telling any
more about ourselves than our friend, the
enemy, can find out."
In the midst of a dead silence, the signal was
made to the Delaware. Only Decatur whis-
pered to Somers, whose station was next to his:
"Poor old Dad! He 'd give all his old
boots if he could have a share in the scrim-
The Delaware then hauled off, making a
short tack, and going no farther away than
she could help. The strange frigate, whose
trim and shipshape appearance grew plainer at
every moment, was now nearly within hail.
The American was preparing to bear up and
run off as a preliminary to the action; the first
lieutenant, under the commander's eye, stood
near the wheel, while Danny Dixon took the
In the midst of the breathless silence, the
strange frigate continued to advance, short-
ening sail meanwhile, and with her men at
quarters, and her batteries lighted up.
But at that moment Commodore Barry
dashed his glass down with an impatient
"We are truly unfortunate, gentlemen! She
is English; look at her marines!"
At that moment, the stranger, discovering the
American's character, quickly hauled down her
French colors, and showed the Union Jack. A
loud groan burst from the American sailors,
and it was answered by a corresponding groan
from the British tars, who felt a similar disap-
pointment, deeming the American a Frenchman.
Commodore Barry then ordered her to be
hailed, and the first lieutenant called through
the trumpet: "This is the American frigate,
United States, forty-four guns, Commodore
Barry; who are you?"
This is His Britannic Majesty's ship, The-
tis,' fifty guns, Captain Langley."
Both ships were on the same tack, and going
at about the same speed. Commodore Barry
then hailed again, asking if the English captain
had any news of two crack French frigates,
" L'Insurgente" and La Vengeance," that
were supposed to be cruising in that station.
But the Englishman had no news to give.

THE brilliant visions of the midshipmen-
yard-arm and yard-arm fights with French frig-
ates, followed by promotion and prize-money
galore-failed to materialize, although they
had several sharp encounters with fleet French
privateers that infested the waters of the French
West Indies. With them, it was a trial of sea-
manship, because, if ever a privateer got under
the guns of Old Wagoner, small was her chance
of escape. For the American proved to be a
first-class sailor, and nothing that she chased
got away from her. Several privateers were
captured, but the midshipmen groaned in spirit
over the absence of anything like a stand-up
It did not seem likely that they would make
a port for some time to come. Early in Feb-
ruary, cruising to windward of Martinique, they
ran across the French privateer Tartufe ";
and Tartufe she proved. She was a beautiful
little brigantine, with six shining brass guns;
and her captain evidently thought she could
take care of herself; for, when the United
States gave chase, and fired a gun from her
bow-chasers, the saucy little privateer fired a
gun back, and took to her heels.
It was on a bright February afternoon that
the chase began. The midshipmen thought it
would be but child's play for the fine frigate
to overhaul the Frenchman. But they had
counted without their host. In vain did Old
Wagoner crowd on sail,-the Tartufe managed
to keep just out of gunshot. All the afternoon
the exciting chase continued; and, when night
fell, a splendid moon rose, which made the sea
almost as light as day. Both ships set every
stitch of canvas that would draw, and at day-
break it was found that the frigate had, in all
those hours, gained only a mile or two on the
brigantine. However, that was enough to bring
her within range of Old Wagoner's batteries.
The American then fired another gun, as a sig-
nal for the Frenchman to haul down her colors.
But, to their surprise, the Tartufe went directly
about, her yards flying round like a windmill,
and her captain endeavored to run directly
under the broadside of the United States, be-



fore the heavier frigate could come about.
One well-directed shot, between wind and wa-
ter, stopped the Frenchman's bold maneuver.
The brigantine began at once to fill and settle,
and her ensign was hauled down. Commodore
Barry on seeing this cried out:
"Lower away the second cutter"; and De-
catur, being the officer in charge of that boat,

seeing that his boat would be swamped if he
came near enough for the men to jump in,
called out to the captain, saluting him mean-
while, and asked if he would come off in
one of the brigantine's boats, while the Tar-
tufe was still able to get nearer the United
States, so that her people could be more easily

* I -. ..--r
I 1anW4Yv^ .., -.^-j

dropped into her stern sheets and pulled for the
Frenchman. Commodore Barry, leaning over
the side, called out, laughing, to Decatur:
"I wish you to treat the Frenchman as if he
were the captain of a forty-four-gun frigate
coming aboard to surrender her. He has made
a gallant run."
Decatur, bearing this in mind, put off for the
brigantine. The sun was just rising in glory,
and, as he saw, in the clearness of the day, the
plight of the pretty brigantine, he felt an acute
pity. Her company of sixty men crowded to
the rail, while her captain stood on the bridge,
giving his orders as coolly as if his ship were
coming to anchor in a friendly port. Decatur,

"Sairtainly, sir, sairtainly," answered the
French captain, politely, in his queer English.
In a few moments, the boat containing the
captain came alongside the cutter, and the
Frenchman stepped aboard. He took his seat
very coolly by Decatur in the stem sheets, and
then, putting a single eye-glass in his eye, he
coolly remarked, with a well-affected start of
Iz zat ze American flag I see flying ? And
am I captured by ze Americans ? "
"Yes, sir; we are Americans," answered De-
catur, trying not to smile.
"But I did not know zat ze United States
was at war wiz France."



Perhaps not," replied Decatur; "but you
found out, probably, from the American mer-
chant-vessels you captured, that France was at
war with the United States."
At that the Frenchman laughed in spite of
his defeat.
"I can stand a leetle thing like this," he said.
" I have had much good fortune, and when I
tell my countrymen it took your superbe frigate
fourteen hour to catch me parbleu! zay will
not zink I haf done badlee."
You are quite right, sir," answered De-
catur. "You gave us much trouble to over-
haul you."
The commodore and his officers all treated
the brave French captain as if he had been the
captain of a man-of-war; and, as he proved to
be a very fine, entertaining fellow, he enlivened
the ship very much.
Commodore Barry was now anxious to get
rid of so many prisoners, which encumbered
the ship, and he determined to stand for Gua-
deloupe, in the hope of effecting an exchange
of prisoners. He therefore entered Basseterre
Roads on a lovely morning a few days after cap-
turing and sinking the Tartufe. A white flag
flying at the gaff showed that he was bent on a
peaceful errand. Everything, however, was in
readiness, in case the men should have to go to
quarters. Although the ports were open, the
guns were not run out, nor were their tompions
withdrawn. The French captain, standing on
the quarter-deck, in his uniform, was easily
The beautiful harbor of Guadeloupe, with its
circuit of warlike forts, looked peculiarly attrac-
tive to the eyes of seamen who had been cruis-
ing for many long months.
Old Wagoner had been newly painted, and,
as she stood in the roads, under all her square
canvas, she was a perfect picture of a ship.
Just as they came abreast of the first fort,
however, the land battery let fly, and a
shower of cannon-balls plowed up the water,

about two hundred yards from the advancing
Haul down that white flag," thundered
Commodore Barry; and Danny Dixon rushed
to the halyards and dragged it down in a jiffy,
and in another minute the roll of the drums,
as the drummer-boys marched up and down
beating "quarters," resounded through the ship.
The French captain, mortified at the treacher-
ous action of the forts, quickly drew his cap
over his eyes, and went below.
The United States then, with every gun
manned and shotted, sailed within gunshot of
the first fort that had offered the insult, and,
backing her topsails, gave a broadside that sent
the masonry tumbling about the ears of the
garrison, and dismounted several guns. This
was followed up by another and another broad-
side, all accurately aimed, and knocking the
fort considerably to pieces. Then, still under
short canvas, she slowly sailed around the
whole harbor, paying her compliments to every
fort within gunshot, but without firing a gun
into the helpless town; and when Old Wagoner
drew off and made her way back to the open
ocean, it was conceded that she had served
the Frenchmen right for their unchivalrous

The whole spring was spent in cruising; and
it was the first of June before, on a Sunday
morning, the ship being anchored, the boat-
swain and his eight mates, standing in line in
the port gangway, piped up that sound so dear
to every sailor's heart, "All hands up anchor
for home." At the same moment, the long, red
pennant that signifies the ship is "homeward
bound," was joyfully hoisted at the main, and
Old Wagoner turned her nose toward home.
Just one year from the time they had left the
Delaware, Decatur and Somers set foot again
upon the green shore of the .beautiful bay,
happier, wiser, and better fellows for their year
in the steerage of the fine old frigate.

(To be continued.)

Molly Elliot Seawell.


,.. -

.. ., --: ..

S ^' '"'.,. ".' _
. "Ill'l' ,., ,!J'1'l ,,," I, .. > "*


BVA' Ii7'

*~ I I:



- 4<,

",. f,, l", .

11' 1



SAID one little girl to another little girl
As proudly as could be,
" I '11 tell you something very nice
That my papa told me:
He said I was the sweetest girl
That ever there could be!"

Said the other little girl to that one little girl
"Why, now!-how can you be?
For that is just the very same thing
That my papa told me!"
(And neither was as sweet as my little girl-
As any one could see!)


IN the empty room we three
Play the games we always like,
And count to see who "it" shall be -
Ana, mana, mona, mike.
Round and round the rhyme will go
Ere the final word shall strike,
Counting fast or counting slow--
Barcelona, bona, strike.

What it all means no one knows,
Mixed up like a peddler's pack,
As from door to door he goes -
Hare, ware, frow, frack.

Now we guess and now we doubt,
Words enough or words we lack,
Till the rhyming brings about
Welcomed with a farewell shout--
Hallico, ballico, we-wi-wo-wack, You are OUT!



SAID one little girl to another little girl
As proudly as could be,
" I '11 tell you something very nice
That my papa told me:
He said I was the sweetest girl
That ever there could be!"

Said the other little girl to that one little girl
"Why, now!-how can you be?
For that is just the very same thing
That my papa told me!"
(And neither was as sweet as my little girl-
As any one could see!)


IN the empty room we three
Play the games we always like,
And count to see who "it" shall be -
Ana, mana, mona, mike.
Round and round the rhyme will go
Ere the final word shall strike,
Counting fast or counting slow--
Barcelona, bona, strike.

What it all means no one knows,
Mixed up like a peddler's pack,
As from door to door he goes -
Hare, ware, frow, frack.

Now we guess and now we doubt,
Words enough or words we lack,
Till the rhyming brings about
Welcomed with a farewell shout--
Hallico, ballico, we-wi-wo-wack, You are OUT!


I 1 y. H:5! ElNN TT P

USICAL instruments est instrument of the Greek minstrels, and at
are older than written every ancient festivity or banquet minstrels were
history. The earliest always present, sweeping the strings of the lyre
accounts of man men- as they sang of the glorious deeds of heroes
Stion them as in com- and warriors, and of the beauty of fair maidens.
mon use, and flutes, In Homer's Iliad and Odyssey are frequent
S-, harps, lyres, and allusions to the lyre and the flute.
stringed instruments When Dr. Schliemann was exploring the
with long necks and ruins of buried cities in the ancient land of the
finger-boards are pictured in Trojans where the scene of the Iliad is laid,
wall-paintings of the time of he found many fragments of broken lyres,
Moses, and in the carvings some of them of ivory, beautifully carved with
AZTEC on ancient Assyrian monu- graceful designs and decorated with gold and
O LUTE ments. In one of the early precious stones. The lyre was in use for many
chapters of Genesis, Jubal is centuries after the almost fabulous time of the
called the father of all who handle the harp and Trojans, but it is now an instrument of the past.
the pipe, the harpbeing in ancient times the com- Its memory lives in the name lyric, which is
mon name of stringed instruments, as the pipe given to sweet, emotional songs like those for
was of wind instruments.
In all the fables of
mythology music is rep-
resented as soothing
and inspiring, and as
possessing mysterious
power. Mercury is said
to be the inventor of the
lyre, which he gave to
Apollo, who played it so
sweetly that all the gods
and even the cattle of the -tri
field stopped to listen.
Orpheus, the son of
Apollo, inherited the
lyre, which he touched
with such a masterly
hand that he charmed
wild beasts, and made
the trees and mountains
bow their heads and
tremble with delight.
The lyre was the old-



I ,' ,

,- ...-r -*' I'

which in olden rime "
the lyre a- ujied as an .. .
acconia-ini7l int.
Flu; mnad,: ,,f the leg14.- .
bones of birds annd other d> r
animals are fournd a:moni, the
remains oft the i.rinmii'-e c. Ie-
dwellers; but it is probable that before
carving a bone flute, the cave-dweller, or
some earlier inhabitant of the earth, of whom
we have no knowledge, cut a reed, drew the
pith, notched the reed in holes, and blew on
it, delighted to find that he could produce
sounds like the sighing of the wind.
The reed flute represents the earliest form of
musical instruments. The next step, probably,
was the stretching of strings over a sounding-
board of skin or resonant wood, or across a
rude wooden frame. The drum, too, must
have been in use in very early times, and it
still holds an important place among musical
instruments. There is not much music in a
tom-tom; it makes a hideous racket when an
African savage bangs on it with sticks, or with
his fists; but there is inspiration in the roll and
tap of the drum-sticks in the hands of a skilful
drummer in a military band.
In the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New
York city, there is an interesting collection of
musical instruments of all nations, many of
which belong to past centuries. They lie
silently in the glass cases; the strings of man-
dolins and lutes that made sweet music in days
gone by, are broken and twisted, and the fin-
gers that once swept them have passed away,
but still the air seems. trembling with melody.



pictures the
the summer
nights when
the trouba-
dour sang
songs under
window; or
the Bedouin
camp in the
desert, where
the flute and
guitar were





rr. .-------


played during the evening hour of repose.
There are instruments here of all characters:
rude violins and banjos, fashioned by savage
hands, and dainty lyres inlaid with gold and mo-
ther-of-pearl instruments which have played
their part in ancient ceremonies in far-away In-
dia and China, in the castles of the Middle
Ages, and in the African wilderness. It is in-
teresting to note that all nations, in shaping
musical instruments, have tried to make them
beautiful to please the eye as well as to pro-
duce sweet sounds. The stringed instruments
and flutes of savage races are often grotesque,
and even ugly, to civilized eyes, but the poor
savage did his best. He carved his instrument
as well as he could, and also often adorned it
with whatever precious trinkets he had in his
The ancient Chinese believed that music was
of divine origin, and that it was a gift from the
gods to man. They called it the twin sister of
poetry, and believed that it had miraculous
power over man and beast. An old Chinese
hymn tells the story of a shepherd who wan-
dered into the camp of a great army and made
the soldiers so homesick, by playing familiar
melodies on his flute, that they left the field on
the eve of battle: "The flute of Chang-liang,
in that little space, had stolen the courage of
eight thousand men."
Ancient Chinese instruments are of very neat
workmanship. There is a small violin called
ur-heen, which is made of dark wood, the head
covered with snake-skin. It is not ornamented
with any carved or inlaid designs, but it is
beautifully made, and the wood is polished very
smooth. There are only two silken strings,
tuned in fifths, and played on with a horsehair
bow. A three-string banjo, also covered with
snake-skin, has a long neck, the top of which,
where the strings are fastened, is carved to rep-
resent a bat. There is also a very ingenious
mouth-organ called ti-tzu. The body is made
of wood, and in it are inserted seventeen pipes.
The notes are made by stopping the holes in
the pipes with the fingers.
The Chinest are very fond of drums, which
they call kou. The oldest drums were of baked
clay with a skin head fastened on with nails in-
stead of braced cords, which made it impossi-

ble to tune them as modern drums are tuned.
The variations of tone were regulated only by
the force of the blow.
The notes of Chinese music read, like the
written characters, from right to left, and the in-
tervals of the scale are different from those of
the scale adopted by the nations of the west.
The music is not very harmonious, and sounds
meaningless and jangling to western ears, but it
has a pretty, musical cadence that makes it at-
tractive and interesting in spite of its frequent
The vina, the national instrument of India,
calls up a vision of troops of Nautch girls, dan-
cing to its music, the little peals of silver bells
fastened around their ankles, keeping time as
they glide and whirl. The vina is a queer-look-
ing instrument. It is a single bar of hollow
bamboo, fastened with extended bird-claws,
carved from wood, to two empty gourds. The
ends of the bar are often beautifully carved to
represent birds or heads of animals. Eight
wire strings are stretched along the top of the
hollow bamboo over a series of movable frets,
and there are three other strings, which pass
over a single fixed bridge. The player throws
one gourd over his left shoulder, and passes
the other under his right arm, holding the bam-
boo diagonally across his breast. The frets are
pressed with the left hand, and the strings are
snapped with little hard strips called plectra,
worn upon the first and third fingers of the
right hand.
Another beautiful instrument of India is the
soorsringa, which is shaped something like a
banjo, although it sounds more like a sweet
guitar. It is made of very dark wood, with
a round body, pear-shaped at the back, and a
long, slender neck, and is beautifully inlaid with
ivory and pearl. There are eight wire strings,
which are played with a plectrum. The sawod,
or East Indian guitar, is also a beauty, both in
form and decoration. The sides and back are
very dark green, almost black, covered with
golden figures.
One of the most graceful of ancient instru-
ments is an old boat-shaped harp of Burmah.
The body is of dark wood, with a sounding-
board of buffalo-hide, and a cluster of silk cords
and tassels is a pretty decoration fastened to



the curved neck and falling around the front.
There are thirteen silk strings, which are tuned
by pushing them up and down the neck, to
which they are fastened. The player holds the
harp on his knee, with its neck over his left arm,
and sweeps the strings with his right hand. This
beautiful instrument was used only as an accom-
paniment for songs.
All nations, both savage and enlightened, use
the drum, and the forms of this instrument are
countless. Hindoo and Siamese drums are
very pretty. The Hindoos have a small drum
that is made of wood bound with strips of skin,
and painted with rings of bright color. The
taphone, or hand-drum, of the Siamese is beaten
with the fingers instead of sticks. It is a very
gay bright red drum covered with gilt figures,
and is used as a tripping accompaniment to
melodies played by flutes and guitars.
The mokugyo is a very odd drum which was
used in ancient Buddhist temples. The name
signifies a wooden fish. It is not in the form
of a fish, unless it might be supposed to repre-
sent the head of a shark with mouth gaping
for prey, but the scaly forms of two fishes are a
part of the gilded decoration. This drum is
bright red, ornamented with black and gold.
It hung in the temple, and the Buddhist priests
beat upon it when reciting their prayers.
Drums and pipes are the most simple form of
musical instruments, and as they can be played'
upon easily they are always favorites with wild
and wandering tribes. In Palestine the double
pipe and the parabukkeh, or hand-drum, are
still in use, although they belong to ancient
times. At weddings and other festal gatherings
the musicians whistle little melodies on the
pipes, tap an accompaniment with their fingers
upon the parabukkeh, which is made of pottery
covered with skin, beat tambourines, and clap
their hands in concert for hours and hours to-
gether without a sign of weariness.
One of the oldest and rudest of stringed in-
struments is an ancient specimen from Nubia,
called kissar. It looks like the lyre of a cow-
herd, as it probably was in the days when it
was played in the tents of wandering nomads in
the Desert of Sahara, or.on the shores of the
Red Sea. The body is of old brown leather
stretched over a wooden frame; the two up-

rights and cross-bar, which form the lyre, are
sticks, rough as if whittled with a dull knife.
The only attempt at decoration is a string of
cowries. The cowries were probably the only
riches the humble musician possessed, and that
he tied them to his poor instrument shows that
it must have been very dear to him.
There is an Arab stringed-instrument which
is also very ancient and very rude. It is a kind
of violin, and was probably played with a bow.
The neck is a piece of bamboo, and the body,
which is covered with wrinkled skin, is round
and irregular, and is bound with cords twisted
from some variety of coarse vegetable fiber.
It is hard to imagine that such a rude instru-
ment could have yielded any sound better than
a discordant squeak at the touch of the bow.
Perhaps it did not; but even a squeak may
have been music to the untutored ears of the
wild Arab musician. Another Arab instrument,
which is handsome and has considerable Moor-
ish richness of decoration, is a violoncello. The
body is a plain wooden frame covered with
skin, but the neck is black and studded all over
with little round disks of mother-of-pearl, which
glisten and change color like beautiful eyes.
The Arabs are a very musical and poetic peo-
ple, and many of their songs are full of tender
and sweet feeling, in strange contrast to their
wild, savage life.
Captain Burton, the African traveler, says
that music among the wild tribes of Central
Africa is only a monotonous combination of
sounds. The natives have an ear for time and
tune, but they cannot produce anything which
sounds like music to civilized ears.
Among their instruments there is a little hol-
low box, upon which five elastic strips of wood
are fastened in the center to a raised bar.
These wooden keys are set in vibration by the
thumb and strike the top of the box, which acts
as a sounding-board click click clickety
click! keeping time to a humdrum song.
A small two-string African banjo has a very
pretty body of tortoise-shell, covered with de-
signs, the largest of which is evidently intended
for an ostrich, although it looks more like a
turkey. There is not much music in this banjo,
as the strings are capable of only a few notes,
and give those with a faint tinkling sound.


The African violin has a single hair-string,
which gives but six notes. The instrument it-
self must have been very beautiful and costly
to savage eyes. The back of the body is
round and covered with dark cloth, which is
decorated with coarse embroidery, brass nail-
heads, and cowries, while great bunches of
cowries are fastened to the bow and to the
neck and body of the violin. Cowries are the
money of these simple savages, and the instru-
ment must have been of great value to its
owner in the African wilderness. He was
probably the chief or the rich man of his tribe.
The North American Indians have an intense
love of music. Their native songs are plaintive

This rattle is painted in bright colors. The
body of the bird is blue and black, and the
imp is bright red, with blue rings around its
eyes, which give it a very wicked leer. The
kah-to-Lo-hay rattle of the Dakota Indians, bet-
ter known as the Sioux, is prettier. It is a long
piece of bone with a hanging ornament of fur,
beads, and feathers, and one sleigh-bell, which
the Indians probably thought was a musical
instrument of the white man. This rattle, or
tapper, is played by tapping it upon the blade
of a tomahawk, or some other hard surface
that will give a ringing or tinkling sound when
The wakan-chan-cha-gla, also of the Dakota

rhe nationbi instrument of India.

Soorsringa,. Madr.s.

and often very sweet in feeling. They tell the
whole story of their life in song; they sing of
love, of the valor of the warrior, and of the
happy hunting-ground where they believe their
departed braves are wandering. Music is a
part of every ceremony, and musical instruments
are found in every wigwam. These instruments
are not as beautiful as the Indian music, for the
barbaric love of grotesque figures and bright
colors leads to hideous productions.
Indians are fond of rattles, which they fill
with coarse gravel and use as an accompani-
ment to their songs. As the Indian ear for
time is excellent, the effect is much more
pleasing than one would think. The Haida
Indians of British Columbia make a rattle in
the form of a bird with an imp on its back.

Indians, is the drum of the medicine-man, who
is supposed to possess mysterious healing power
and supernatural wisdom. The medicine-man
is always present upon all great occasions, and
he takes part in all religious ceremonies, bang-
ing upon his drum to scare away demons. The
drum is ugly enough to frighten the demons,
even if it did not make any noise. The skin,
stretched over a wooden frame, is colored
bright yellow, and the figure of a beast, which
looks like the cat that little boys and girls draw
upon their slates, is drawn with heavy black
lines. The Indians think that this figure has
a deep and mysterious meaning.
These rattles, together with flutes and whis-
tles and drums of all descriptions, make up the
wild Indian orchestra.


_fTT_ -


The Aztecs, who inhabited Mexi... ...._
Cortez and his Spanish army landed ...- iil,.
shores of that country in the early days of
the sixteenth century, were in many ways an
enlightened nation. It is true that their reli-
gion was horrible. They worshiped hideous
stone idols, and had human sacrifices in their
temples, which were great mounds with wind-
ing stairs going round and round the sides to
the top. Apart from these heathenish and
cruel practices, the Aztecs had very good laws.
They had colleges where boys and girls were
taught many useful arts; they were an agri-
cultural people; they had extensive market-
places; and their family life was simple and
well ordered.
They had beautiful festivals in honor of a
floral goddess, when they decorated their
houses and their temples with wreaths, and
had processions with young girls carrying great
baskets of flowers. There was one festival
when, for days before the time, priests went
about the streets playing on little clay flutes.

k\ /

1.1i:.- : ,i -

other interest-
ing relics are
found in the _
earth in Mexi-
co, where they
have been buried
for hundreds of ,
years. The old clay
flute which appears
in the headpiece to
this paper was found
a few years ago by
an Indian, who was
plowing in a field
near the foot of the
great Mexican vol-
cano, Popocatepetl.
It represents a laugh-
ing imp with his arms
akimbo. There are
four round holes in
his body which, when
played upon with the
fingers, still give very
distinct and clear
notes as the player
blows through the
imp's head.

- -- -- -
^ ---- --- *':- V.- W7

from Tu

VOL. XXI.-75.





It is a great contrast to turn from the wild,
plaintive melodies of American Indians to the
tide of romantic song that swept over Southern
Europe in the Middle Ages, when troubadours
wandered through the rose-bowers of Provence
playing sweet melodies on the guitar, and brave
knights came home from the crusades bringing
with them the lute to make soft music in the
banquet-hall and in the boudoirs of fair ladies.
The lute is supposed to be originally a Per-

sian in-strrunmnt, and it i I '
during the MIiddle AL.e-; thit .
it was fir.r krio.- n in i E urope .1
where it bei-. e ;- great at .-
vorite. Poet .-:arn it: praie .
Shakspere i.uti late.i i1r tihe h.ind -
of many of hi.l heruiro s.
This beautiful instrument is now out

2 --4.

of use, and all the specimens in exis-
tence are very old. The difference be-
tween the lute and the guitar is principally in
the body, which in the lute is pear-shaped.
This made it a very delicate instrument and
troublesome to keep in order, as the pecu-
liar shape made the wood warp and crack.
An English writer, early in the seventeenth
century, recommends that the lute be kept
in a bed covered up from the air, when
not in use, and he says that with very good
luck the body will not need to be repaired more
than once a year; and a famous French lutenist,


as a lute-player was called, declared that it cost
him as much to keep his lute as it would to
keep a horse. It is no wonder that lutes went
out of use. In Evelyn's Diary" it is stated
that lutes of that period were made mostly in
Germany, and that they were very costly. An
old lute of rich, mellow tone would sometimes
be valued as high as one hundred pounds.
The mandolin is similar in shape to the
lute, but it is a very much smaller instrument.
It has been a favorite in
Italy and Spain for cen-
S- turies, and it is now very
S__ _popular in America. It
S----- is a beautiful little instru-
ment. The strings are
-i in pairs, and are played
with a plectrum of tor-
..- ..-hy toise-shell, whalebone, or
ostrich-quill, held in the
H. r trer right hand.
/ T'--1:T:. I Ari-s. The hurdy-gurdy, or
vielle, belongs to peasant
life, and in the beautiful
opera of" Linda di Cha-
1 mouni," Donizetti intro-
duced it as an accom-
paniment to Savoyard
songs. It does not make
.very sweet music, and the
S v first name is said to be
given to it in imitation of
/ the grinding and grating
sound which is a cross
between those of a hand-
organ and a bagpipe.
in-chae -ck.-gk. In the last century the
Dakota lndians.. hurdy-gurdy was very
(SEE PAGE 592.) popular in France, and
when Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate queen
of Louis XVI., and the ladies of her court
dressed in the costume of peasant girls and
played games, grinding the hurdy-gurdy was
a part of their sport. Beautiful instruments
were made in Paris at that time, richly inlaid
with ebony and ivory, and with heads carved
to represent knights and cavaliers.
The strings of the hurdy-gurdy are set in
vibration by a wooden wheel, which is rosined
and acts like the bow of a violin. The wheel

rs, :- ~
I-. ,~tt~l. 5. r


3 turned by a handle, at the lower end of the arms and perching on his shoulders, or hiding
)ody, which the player whirls around with his in his pockets and peeping cunningly out with
ight hand, while with the fingers of the left he their little red eyes. The mice are very tame,
and sometimes they are
trained to do pretty
A tricks.
Wherever Spanish is
Aii~ ,spoken there will be
""-\ --- e l found the guitar. Al-
"--- though it is a favorite
instrument with all na-
C aXitz- tions,it belongsto Spain,
1o wr ex str in gt and always reminds one
Lutie, of dark-eyed lads and
Sut- Geumr-y a lasses, with guitars and
1 7g tambourines and cas-
tanets, dancing among
Sthe' orange-groves and
vineyards and olive-
p'kndolin .trees of sunny Anda-
trins, It-b -. lusia. It is said that
the guitar was brought
to Spain by the Moors,
about a thousand
presses the little ivory keys which make the years ago. Old guitars of the seventeenth cen-
different notes. This instrument is never heard tury are beautifully inlaid with ivory, tortoise-
now except in the hands of street musicians. shell, ebony, and mother-of-pearl.
In the cities and towns of England, Italian boys Of beautiful old musical instruments there is
go about the streets with a hurdy-gurdy and no end, and wherever one is found it has a
a cage of white mice. While one boy grinds charming story to tell-be it a harp pictured in
away at the instrument, the other boy opens ancient Egyptian wall-painting, or the dainty
the cage, which he carries by straps hung over harpsichord at which little Nelly Custis spent so
his shoulder, and the little white mice scamper many hours, that still stands in the old mansion
out and clamber all over him, running up his at Mount Vernon.

PV 1-ui L' a Crc




;,',.-- A Banbury tailor once wrote a song,
i Which hld sing, cross-legged,the whole day long.
If everyone liked it, he said ,lihe me',
What a famous 1 of a man Id be!


*\ Said a litte poet laying down his -rnyming
Ai 're verses difficult to mahe ? Oh,yes, indeed
they-'re very ,
S-wonder where I 1 ever find a word to rhyme
with lattice;
Oh, how I wish the plural ofd tomato was
,.tomatis "
// -.'

Tbc BevtiM Balad

t LYad Lec


BOOTED and cloaked and gray-mustached
Through the night and the rain a soldier
At his heel as he rode a great sword clashed.

"Now, halt, I say!" came the warder's hail;
"Who rides thus late through the King's
entail ?
Halt! or I pierce thy shirt of mail!"

And his cross-bow, fashioned of toughest
Creaked as the hempen string he drew,
And a quarrel* placed and leveled true.

Clear and ready the answer came,
And a hand that might the lily shame
Held up a jewel that shone like flame.

"Ye stay not the rider who beareth the ring
To which bolts are unslipped and gates
wide swing -
He must needs ride late who rides for the

" In the castle-court ye have builded high.
A gallows for one who in chains doth lie:
I would see the prisoner ere he die."

"Enter, Sir Knight, in the name of the
Meat and wine shall the servitors bring,
And to thy black steed give sheltering."

" Nay,-since I soon again must ride,-
In the castle-court, untethered, untied,
Till his master come, let the black steed

"And for meat and wine, may the saints
That ever a Knight from his duty swerve-
They fast, not feast, who the King would

Of the stout men-at-arms, some watch, some
Drowsy the warders who guard the keep;
And the Knight is shown to the dungeon

Patiently waiting his master's commands,
But brooking no touch of varlet hands,
The black steed stood as a statue stands.

And grim stood the gallows, its somber
A roost for the ravens that croaked to the
Awaiting the prey that should come with
the light.

No star swung its silver cresset on high
To lighten a path for the moon in the
sky -
But the bell of the castle told morning was

*The bolt or arrow of a cross-bow.



Then the great oaken door creaked again
in its frame,
And forth from the portal the strange Knight
came -
The jewel he bore lit the dark like a

Scarce the black steed can neigh his mas-
ter to greet,
Ere the Knight has sprung to the saddle-
And away, away, like an arrow fleet!

The warder sleepily rubbing his eyes
Bethinks him the stranger has grown in
" Now halt he shouts, or a quarrel flies! "

Small need of spur for the black steed's sides;
He feels the hand and he knows who rides;
Belike knows too that a life betides.

Quoth the warder, "To force we must
then appeal.
Those who cannot hear perchance may feel;
Sooth, I '11 tickle his ribs with a bolt of
steel! "

But no answer came to the warder's hail
Save of hoofs a clatter blown back by the
And the bolt glanced aside from the shirt
of mail.

On the uppermost walls now torches are
There is rattle of drums, and trumpets are
And doors are locked-but the horse is

The dungeon they search--to find not there
A knight close bound, but a lady fair;
And her only chains were her golden hair.

To the lord of the castle then they go:
"Shall we light a fire of pitch and tow,
And burn the witch who hath cheated us
so ?"

" Witch or not," he said, "so true was the
A higher than I must ye hither bring;
This gramary* nearly concerneth the King."

When the King came riding with trappings
of gold,
And pennons and banners of purple un-
rolled -
A king was a king in the days of old-

And they brought from the dungeon a lady
Instead of the Knight whom they'd prisoned
And hoped to have hanged in the morning

Right loudly he laughed in merriest glee;
And "Zooks (that's Good Gracious! ")
"Zooks! cried he,
"Instead of Sir Richard ye 've Lady Lee!

" Faith, never before from dungeon bare
Have ye haled me a traitor so passing fair
As the one now enchained in her own golden

" But a few days gone, it can scarce be three,
We mind," said the King (they always-say
"This dame to us knelt with a wifely plea.

"Though her husband, she knew, had harried
the glen
And swept like a besom the hilltops, what
then ?
At heart he was one of the best of men.

"And would we once more Sir Richard re-
His raids on our outlying lands should
And they both would pray for the kingdom's

"Refusing Sir Richard to pardon or spare,
We soon thereafter were made aware
That the royal jewelry needed repair.

*Witchcraft, or magic.





'And the ring ye have seen we confided free
To a stripling, comely enough to see,
Who said that the jeweler's son was he.

" Now the riddle is read, for the jeweler's son,
And the Knight who rode till his errand was
And the witch and the Lady Lee are one.

i 1i' k

"Sir Richard our patience has sorely tried,
And yon stands the grim steed we meant
he should ride;
But our royal mercy be now published wide:

"Since he must by this o'er the border be,
And beyond our reach e'en let him go free;
And thou mayst rejoin him, good Lady Lee!"


(Fifth fafer of the series, Quadrueeds of North A merica.")


ONLY a few short years ago the fur-bearing
animals of North America were so common
that people wore only the choicest and finest
furs. Ladies would no more have worn bear-
skins then than horse-hide now. Lynx-skins
had little value and were seldom worn, and
only the finest of the foxes yielded skins con-
sidered desirable.
Now, however, all that is changed, and the
motto seems to be, "Everything is fur that
wears hair." Black bearskin furs are worth
from $50.00 to $1oo.oo a set. Lynxes and
foxes of every description are sought; and it is
positively amusing to think how many thou-
sand skunks die annually in this country in
order that the fashionable may wear "Alaska
Sable" -and "Black Marten." Even poor lit-
tle, once despised, Br'er Rabbit of the brush-
pile is called upon to contribute his coat to the
furrier, and tens of thousands of European hare-
skins are dyed, and sheared, and made into an
excellent imitation of fur seal! And why not ?
The bodies being eaten, it is far better to use
the skins than to waste them, as heretofore.
The special object of this meeting is to intro-
duce to your acquaintance certain members of
the MARTEN FAMILY, called the AMus-tel'i-dee.
It is an old and very aristocratic family, and
for hundreds of years past some of its members
have always been on the most intimate terms
with the leaders of rank and fashion through-
out the earth. They have added luster to the
courts of kings, the learning of judges, and the
beauty of woman. The different members of
the family take turns in being the favorite of
the hour, according to the direction in which
that fickle and giddy girl, Fashion, bestows her
smile,-and also according to which species
can best supply the fur market.
Just at present the SEA OTTER is the favor-
ite of the millionairess, and
SEA OTTER. his fur is the costliest in the
(En'y-dris lutris.) world. I wonder if any of

the wearers of this beautiful fur-so costly that
the price of one set would feed a hungry fam-
ily for two whole years-ever stop to find out
how the first wearer was born on a bed of
kelp, floating out in the open sea, on the icy-
cold waters of the Pacific, and literally rocked
in the cradle of the deep "; how he was brought
up on the heaving billows, and, when bedtime
came, found a soft resting-place on his mo-
ther's breast, while she floated upon her back
and clasped him with her paws as he slept;
how the only land he ever knew was the
rugged, rock-bound shores of Alaska or Wash-
ington. Now and then, when the ocean was
very rough, and before the hunters were so
bad, he used'to crawl out upon a rock and lie
there, while the roar of the breakers boomed
in his ears and the spray dashed over him in
torrents. But then, it is probable that not one
woman out of every five hundred takes the
trouble to learn the life history of the creature
whose furry coat she wears.
The Sea Otter is the largest of the Marten
Family, and is very unlike the animal after
which the family is named. It has a thick,
clumsy body, which, with the round, blunt head,
is from three and a half to four feet in length.
Unlike those of all other Otters, the tail is short
and stumpy, being about one fifth the length of
the head and body. As if to increase its value,
and hasten its destruction, the skin is much
larger than the body, like a misfit coat, and liesg
loosely upon it in many folds. For this. reason
the stretched pelt is always much wider and
longer than the animal that wore it.
The coat of the full-grown Sea Otter is very
dense, very fine, and its color is shimmering, lus-
trous black. Ever since the earliest discovery
of the Sea Otter by the Russians, its fur has
been eagerly sought by them, and the cash
prices of skins have always been so high that
there is not, in the whole United States, a
museum rich enough to afford a good series


of specimens. Mr. Charles H. Townsend, the
naturalist of the United States Fish Commis-
sion, writes me that in 1891 the price of the
best skins had reached $400 each, and their
value has been since increasing. On the north-
west coast of the State of Washington, where
Sea Otters are still found along a thirty-mile
strip of coast (from Gray's Harbor, half-way to
Cape Flattery), they are shot by hunters from
tall "derricks" from thirty to forty feet high,
erected in the surf half-way between high tide

annual catch made on the south shore of the Aleutian Isl-
ands was generally over 6oo. Ten years ago it had fallen
to 2oo, and last year only two were taken in the whole ar-
chipelago. Once abundant at the Pribyloffs, it has now
entirely disappeared. A similar decrease has taken place
in the region of the Alaska Peninsula, always the center
of the Sea Otter's habitat as regards abundance. The
adoption of firearms for the old-time spears has contrib-
uted to make this naturally wary animal the wildest of
wild creatures. With a skin worth from $Ioo to $500oo, it
has no respite from persecution.
Last year I knew of about twenty-five schooners, each
carrying several natives and their boats, engaged in Otter-

-- -- U --.-. -
SyiL '---r~, -- --

G'T.-L~.-rE-7 e


( ..x~r Ot. r"r,
I f -OWN' .


and low tide, and the hunter who kills four
Otters in a year considers his work successful.
Owing to the persistent hunting that has
been going on ever since Alaska came into our
possession, the Sea Otter is rapidly following
the buffalo to the State of Extermination. On
this point, the following letter from Mr. Town-
send is interesting:

The diminution of the Sea Otter began with the Ameri-
can occupation of the country, since which time it has
steadily decreased in numbers. Twenty years ago the
VOL. XXI.- 76.

hunting. Four of these vessels were very successful,
taking in all 377 Otters. I believe there were not more
than a thousand Otters taken in all Alaska during the
season of 1891; but it is only a few years since a much
smaller fleet could get 5000 or 6000 Otters.
The Sea Otter is a much more important animal to the
natives than the fur seal, the entire population along
nearly 2ooo miles of coast-line being dependent on the
Otter-hunting industry for a living.
The Government is now commencing to place restric-
tions on Otter-hunting, and the species may yet be saved.
My own recommendations have been to restrict white
hunters only, and let the native hunters severely alone.


The favorite food of the Sea Otter is not fish,
as one might suppose from the habits of the
common Otter, but clams, crabs, mussels, and
sea-urchins. Its molar teeth are of necessity
very strong, for the grinding up of this rough
fare, and the muscles of the jaws are propor-
tionately powerful.
THE NORTH AMERICAN is an old favorite, and
OTTER so well known by
(Lu'tra Can-a-den'sis) reason of his superb,
glossy, dark-brown fur, that his life has always
been eagerly sought by hunters and trappers.

r '.r .

Like all our older fur-bearers, the species has
been so persecuted and hunted down that to
the present generation it is almost a stranger
once more. In the southern States, where, on
account of the warm climate, its fur is so poor
as to be of little value, it still exists, but it is
nowhere abundant in the United States. Now
and then a solitary specimen is taken in South
Carolina, Delaware, Massachusetts, or Vermont,
or in the mountains of the West. In New
Brunswick and British Columbia they are more
common, and, following the timbered country,
they range northward until they occupy the en-
tire mainland of Alaska south of latitude 68 de-
grees. Although we cannot pause here to speak
at length of the aquatic habits and fish-diet of
the Otter, his tameness, and even affection, in
captivity, and his interesting family of two or
three children in a hollow stump, we cannot, as
boys and girls, ignore his sportive disposition,
and the grand fun he has sliding down-hill!
I wonder how many American boys know
that the Otter loves coasting just as much as
any school-boy, will work for it just as hard,
and keep it up quite as long, if only let alone.
Well, this is all true, at all events; and he even

beats the boys at their own game, for he not.
only goes tobogganing on his stomach down
steep hillsides covered with snow or ice, in the
north, but in the south, where there is no snow,
he changes to a steep bank coated with nice,
slippery mud, and goes merrily on with his
coasting. It is true he gets his coat muddy in-
going down, but the plunge into the water at
the bottom of the slide quickly washes it clean-
again. I have never seen Otters playing this
game, but persons who have watched them at
it unobserved say they seem to enjoy the fun as.
well as any school-boys, and will go over the
course most industriously fifteen or twenty times.
before stopping to rest. The fur of the Otter is
still fairly common, and in regular demand.
THE WOLVERINE, is better known as
CARCAJOU, or GLUTTON being the trapper's
(Gc'o las'cs) Evil Genius than for
the value or beauty of his own fur. He is.
the greatest thief and the most cunning villain
in our whole mammalian fauna, and mountains
of hard words have been heaped upon his
ugly head. In fighting-weight he is about the
size of a setter-dog, but in form he may best
be described as a cross between a badger and a
bear. He has the head, legs, feet, and tail of a.
badger, and a bear-like body. In Wyoming he is
called the SKUNK BEAR, not a bad name; but
the Indians of northern Washington go a little
farther and call him the MOUNTAIN DEVIL.
I never saw but one live Wolverine, and that
was a fine specimen caught in the Yellowstone
Park and now in the National Zo6logical Park
at Washington. He is very badger-like in tem-
per and disposition, sullen and vicious, always
crouching in the farthest corner of his cage,
growling away down in his throat, and showing
a formidable set of teeth whenever looked at.
The portrait of him on the next page shows his
form and appearance so well it is only neces-
sary for me to add a few words of description.
The length of his head and body is about
thirty inches, and tail about twelve inches. I
say "about," because he asked to be excused
from being measured, and I excused him! In
general appearance, the Wolverine is a very
stoutly built, long-haired, and dark-colored
animal, with his colors in about four values,
as an artist would express it. His head and




shoulders are chestnut-brown, the back is al-
most black, while the legs and feet are jet-
black, and the claws white. A very curious
and conspicuous light marking is the dirty yel-
low coloring of the thigh. The fur of this
animal is not very fine, and is chiefly desirable
for use in robes and rugs. Although it is com-
paratively abundant in the fur market, there is
no special demand for it.
The most interesting thing about the Wol-
verine is the total depravity of his character;
we cannot say orall character, for apparently
he never had any. Wher-

,ever found he is the king
of thieves. He delights
in following up a line
of marten-traps several
miles long, and not only
stealing the bait, which
his satanic ingenuity
nearly always enables
him to do without get- .
ting caught, but also de- ,
vouring every marten -
that he finds already ..
trapped. He makes a. '
.specialty of finding and
breaking open the caches '
of meat trappers store '
up in the fall for winter .
use; and what he can ';:' .
neither eat on the spot,'
nor carry away and bury '-. '
under the snow, he paws '
over and soils so effec-
tually that even the hun-
griest man cannot eat it.
The Washington readers
of ST. NICHOLAS will rec-
ognize in him a verita-
ble "Jack the Slasher"
among quadrupeds.
In stealing, his indus-
try is boundless. He of-
ten enters a settler's cabin when the owner is
away, eats everything eatable, destroys a good
share, and then carries away everything port-
able, hiding his booty in the snow or in the
-earth. He even takes articles that he cannot
.possibly use, such as tin pans, clothing, belts,

and steel traps; and more than once he has
been known to strip a cabin of almost every-
thing it contained. As an agreeable neighbor
in the forest he is a complete failure. For-
tunately he belongs more to the northern por-
tion of the continent than elsewhere, and is
now rarely taken in the United States.
The largest group of the Marten Family is
that containing the skunks, big, medium, and
little. For years we contentedly acknowledged
the claims of five species for all North America;
but recently Dr. C. H. Merriam has been in-


: \


r; ,'

...Southwest, and in 8 he announced eight new
...'* ,.. ,-

Add to these two more new species, and instead
of five species only we are now obliged to con-
fess ownership to fifteen species, and all bad.




Just what we Americans have done to earn
this additional disgrace, I am puzzled to guess.
It is not necessary to bring forward all our
skunks at once, for one is enough to satisfy
COMMON SKUNK. most people. The COMMON
(Me-lhi'tis me-hiti-ca.) SKUNK will serve well as the
type of his subfamily. To me he seems the



meanest and wickedest-looking animal for his
size that I ever saw. Instead of having a head
shaped like those of other mammals, his is coni-
cal, like the end of a half-bured stick. His
jet-black color, which is intensified by his pure
white markings, and his snake-like, glittering
black eyes, make him look a veritable imp
from the Bad Place. His big, bushy tail he
carries erect over his back, defiantly and threat-
eningly, like the black banner of a bloody pirate.
Knowing well the power that lies in his abomin-
able scent-glands, he is bold and aggressive,
and able to put any unarmed adversary to
flight. He is a black-and-white terror, and al-


though every man's hand is against him, the
lynxes and wolves and eagles know enough
about natural history to let him severely alone.
But even the Skunk has his uses. He now
furnishes a great quantity of good fur, and he
also renders some service to the farmer in the
destruction of harmful insects and their larvae.
When I was a small boy I once had a thrill-
ing encounter with a monster Skunk on a bare
Iowa prairie, two miles from a gun. He was
armed, as usual; I was not, and he held me at
bay for half an hour, snarling and growling
viciously, stamping with his fore feet and sud-
denly rushing forward now and then as if to
devour me-which always caused me to fall
back in good order. He might have held me
there until now, in perfect safety to himself,'
had not my big brother arrived with a gun;
for clubs are not trumps when you are fighting
Skunks, unless you have a dog.
The fetid fluid which is the Skunk's great
weapon of defense, has not only the most pow-
erful and offensive odor in the world, but it is
said to be poisonous, and to bum the flesh like
an acid. But it is not even that which is the
most dangerous feature of this little animal.
The bite of the Skunk often produces hydro-
phobia, and death to man. It is even claimed
by some medical authorities that, in this coun-
try at least, madness in dogs is due. to this.
same cause. Be that as it may, it is an undis-
puted fact that in the southwestern States and
Territories, where Skunks are numerous, and it
is a common thing for men to sleep on the
ground, at least two or three scores of persons
have died of hydrophobia as the result of
In order to get even a glimpse of the re-
mainder of the Marten Family, we shall have
to make the remainder of this reception strictly
official, and conduct it on the lines laid down
by American presidents and governors:-a
slowly moving procession, brief introduction,
searching glance, momentary grasp-and exit.
At the head of his family comes the
PINE MARTEN, OR He looks very much like a.
AMERICAN SABLE. young red fox, and if you
(Mus-tela Amer-i-can'a.) will put upon his body the
head of a quarter-grown Vulpes fulvus, you will
have an animal that will pass as a young red fox


____ __ _~__t __ ~__



in almost any crowd. His general color is brown-
ish yellow, but the legs and tail are two or three
shades darker than the body. He is about as
heavy as an ordinary domestic cat, but longer,
fairly large specimens measuring about'seven-
teen to eighteen inches from nose to tail, and
about eleven inches in length of tail, including
the long hair at the tip. His furry coat is long,
fine, and abundant, and nature has generously
given him three kinds of hair. He is an arbo-
real and timber-loving animal, very rarely found
on the prairies, or the great Barren Grounds,
and is most abundant on rugged and rocky
forest-clad mountains. Unlike the Skunk, he
does not cling to settled regions and become


a depraved poultry-thief, but lives in his own
woods, by honest hunting, on small rodents, an
occasional reptile, a bird, or a nestful of eggs.
His fur is common, and is extensively used.
THE BLACK CAT, also called PEKAN or
(Mus-tezlazPen'man-i), about two and a half
times the size of the pine marten, but his shape
is very much the same. He starts in at his
head to be of a beautiful iron-gray color, an
even mixture of black and white, but as the
colors go farther back, the black gradually gets
the best of it. By the time the tail is reached
the white has quite given up in despair, and
retired from view. Tail, legs, and feet are very
dark brown, and the name Black Cat is very
appropriate as to color. In bulk this animal
is about as large as a gray fox, but it has the
short legs and rounded head characteristic of
all the members of the Marten Family. Its
average length of head and body is about
thirty inches, and the tail about seventeen
inches, including the tip. Its habits are very
similar to those of the pine marten, and its


home extends from North Carolina and Ten-
nessee northward through the timbered re-
gions to the Great Slave Lake, westward to
Oregon, and up the Pacific Coast to the Yukon
River. His fur is not very common, and there
is no special demand for it.
Of our seven Weasel species, we can only
glance at the COMMON WEASEL, STOAT, or
COMMON WEASEL. ERMINE, also called the
(Pu-to'ri-us er-min'e-a.) REGAL ERMINE, the most
snake-like of all quadrupeds; white in winter
and brown in summer, inhabiting three fourths
of the North American continent, and known
to nearly everybody. His fur is now common

.. -

I c -

once more, and in special demand. Next to
him comes an animal known to nobody save
a few naturalists and plainsmen-the mink-

3 "''


-- this animal is commonly called
."'4, the PRAIRIE-DOG HUNTER, be-
.. cause of his fondness for that

obaie.: I:ts p:esa; p e slille p always found in the towns of the
r THiE MINK needs no intro-
a o,. 'g (P u-o'v-us vi sou, duction, for he
pl oI inhabits the whole continent, is
r: I t at home everywhere, and, like a

C14 0...

N* 41,


like BLACK-FOOTED FERRET, a handsorr.e crea-
ture, for many years known to science onlv W,
Audubon's figure and description of a ,.!
specimen that once came into his poss,-issir.n
and then was lost. Owing to the comrnrpl e
absence of specimens, the great Audubor., .ac
by some persons actually suspected (so says Dr.
Coues) of having invented the species ias in
embellishment to his work! But Dr. Co:ures
presently called the press to the rescue, and by
its instrumentality several specimens were soon
obtained. Its presence was proved in Kansas, village postmaster, knows everybody. In for-
Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana; and in mer years the demand for his beautiful fur very
1889 one of the first specimens received by the nearly led to his extermination, but when his fur
National Zo6logical Park was a fine living ex- "went out of fashion" (because there was no
ample of this species, which was duly studied, more of it), he had a good long rest of about
and photographed repeatedly. In the West twenty years, during which time his numbers


quietly increased until the insatiable furrier once
more attacked him, and made his fur fashion-
able" again. His beautiful brown fur is now
quite common, and is extensively used.
THE BADGER is the last in the line, and
(Tax-id'e-a Amer-i-can'a) he is such a surly and
stupid beast he deserves to be. Of the many


animals I have kept and handled in captivity,
the Badger is the only one which seemed to
possess no sense whatever. No other animal
ever tried my patience so sorely. He is a
shapeless beast, as if sat upon all his life, al-

most as broad as he is long, strong in muscle,
jaw, and odor; and, when at home in the
Great Plains region, an unmitigated terror to
the prairie-dog. I have seen his burrows in
the center of a forty-mile desert, which even a
hawk could not cross without carrying his ra-
tions with him; and how a Badger could pos-
sibly find enough game to keep him from
starving, where nothing else lived save a few
tiny mice, was a puzzle to me-and I hand
it over to you for solution.
The fur of the Badger is common enough,
but as yet not in demand with fur-wearers.



I WAS scarcely old enough to know anything. :
definite about the Big Knives," as we called
the white men, when the terrible Minnesota .,
massacre occurred, and I was carried into
British Columbia. I have already told how I
was adopted into the family of my father's
younger brother, when my father was betrayed i,
and imprisoned. We all supposed that he had
shared the fate of those who were executed at
Mankato, Minnesota. Now, the savage philo-
sophers looked upon vengeance in the field
of battle as a lofty virtue. To avenge the
death of a relative or of a dear friend was con-
sidered a great deed. My uncle, accordingly, ,
had spared no pains to instil into my young
mind the obligation to avenge the death of my DR. CHARLES ALEXANDER EASTMAN.
father and my brothers. Already I looked FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY THOMAS HOLLAND, BOSTON.
eagerly forward to the day when I should find Meanwhile, he himself went upon the war-
an opportunity to carry out his teachings. path and returned with scalps every summer.



So it may be imagined how I felt toward the exist together. I thought the water would put
Big Knives. On the other hand, I had heard out the fire and the fire would consume the boat,
wonderful things of this people. A race whose if it had a shadow of a chance! This was to me

power bordered upon the supernatural, they a preposterous thing.

r .
e I''

~ -
--: i

r '1
n- : ~ .




were almost wakan (mysterious). I learned that
they had made a "Fire-Boat." I could not
understand how they could convert fire into a
boat, and thus unite two elements which cannot


Although a boy is

But when I was told that
the Big Knives had
created a "Fire-Boat-
Walks-on-Mountains "
(a train), it was too
much to believe.
"Why," said my in-
formant, "those who
saw this monster move
said that it flew oc-
casionally from moun-
tain to mountain,when
it seemed to be excited.
They also said that they
believed it carried a
thunder-bird, for he fre-
quently gave his usual
war-whoop as he was
swiftly borne along."
Several warriors had
seen, at a distance, one
of the first trains on the
Northern Pacific, and
had gained too great an
impression of the won-
ders of the pale-face.
They had seen it go
over a deep creek;
hence they thought it
jumped from one bank
to the other. I con-
fess that the story al-
most quenched my ar-
dor and bravery.
Two or three young
men were talking to-
gether about this fear-
ful invention. "But,"
said one, "I under-
stand that this Fire-
tains cannot move ex-
cept on its track."
not expected to join in

the conversation of his elders, I ventured to
ask, "Then it cannot chase us into any'rough
country ? "




"No, it cannot," was the reply, which I
heard with a great deal of relief.
I had seen guns, and various other things
brought to us by the French-Canadians, so that
I had already some notion of the supernatural
power of the white men; but I had never
before heard such tales as I was treated to
that morning. It was said that they had
bridged the Missouri and the Mississippi rivers,
that they made houses of stone and brick, but
nothing had eclipsed the story told by Bushy-
Horn. It puzzled my brain for many a day.
Finally I asked my uncle why the Great
Mystery gave such power to the TWashicu
(the rich--sometimes we called them by this
name), and not to us Dakotas.
For the same reason," he answered, "that he
gave to Duta the skill to make fine bows and ar-
rows, and toWachisni no skill to make anything."
"And why do the Big Knives increase much
more in number than the Dakotas ? I con-
tinued to inquire.
It has been said, and I am inclined to be-
lieve it is true, that they have larger families
than we do. I went into the house of an
lashicJa [a German], and I counted not less
than nine children. The eldest of them could
not have been over fifteen. When my grand-
father first visited them, down at the mouth of
the Mississippi, they were comparatively few;
later my father visited their Great Father at
Washington, and they had already spread over
the whole country.
Certainly they are a heartless nation. They
have made some of their people servants-yes,
slaves We never believed in slaves, but it
seems that these Washichu do. It is our
belief that they painted their servants black
a long time ago, to tell them from the rest,
and now the slaves have children born to them
of the same color!
"The greatest object of their lives seems to
be to acquire possessions-to be rich. They
are desirous to possess the whole world. For
thirty years they were trying to entice us to sell
our land to them. Finally the Outbreak' gave
them all, and we have 'been driven away from
our beautiful country. They are a wonderful

people. They have divided the day into hours,
like the moons of the year. In fact, they mea-
sure everything. Not one of them would let
even a turnip go from his field unless he re-
ceived equal value for it. I understand that
their great men make a feast and invite many,
but when the feast is over the guests are re-
quired to pay for what they have eaten before
leaving the house. I myself saw at 'White
Cliff' [the name given to St. Paul, Minnesota]
a man who kept a brass drum and a bell to call
people to his table; but when he got them in
he would make them pay for the food 1
I am also informed," said my uncle, but
this I hardly believe, that their Great Chief
[President] makes every man pay him for the
land he lives upon and all his personal goods
even for his own existence -every year! I
am sure we could not live under such a law.
When the Outbreak occurred, we thought that
our opportunity had come, for we had learned
that the Big Knives were fighting among
themselves, on account of a dispute over their
slaves. It was said that the Great Chief had al-
lowed slaves in one part of the country and not
in another; so there was jealousy, and they had
to fight it out. We don't know how true this was.
"There were some praying-men who came
to us some time before the trouble arose. They
observed every seventh day as a holy day. On
that day they met in a house they had built for
that purpose, to sing, pray, and speak of their
Great Mystery. I was never in one of these
meetings. I understand that they had a large
book from which they read. By all accounts
they were very different from all the other white
men we have known, for these never observed
any such day, and we never knew them to pray,
neither did they ever tell us of their Great
"In war they have leaders and war-chiefs of
different grades. The common warriors are
driven forward like a herd of antelopes to face
the foe. It is on account of this manner of
fighting--from compulsion and not because
of personal bravery--that we count no coup
on them.* A lone warrior can do much harm
to a large army of them in a bad country."

In the battle-field there are four counts that can be made for every enemy killed. The first who touches a
dead enemy on the field has the highest honor, and the next three in order.
This is called counting the coup or blow.
VoL. XXI.- 77.



It was this talk with my uncle that gave me
my first clear idea of the white man.
I was almost fifteen years old when my uncle
presented me with a flint-lock gun. The pos-
session of this weapon had given me new
thoughts. I am now old enough," thought I
to myself, "and I must beg my uncle to take
me with him on his next war-path. I will soon
be able to go among the white men whenever I
wish, and to avenge the blood of my father and
One day, when I was away on the daily hunt,
two strangers from the United States visited our
camp. They had boldly ventured across the
northern border. They were Indians, but clad
in the white man's garments. It was well that
I with my gun was absent!
My father, accompanied by an Indian guide,
after many days' searching had found us at
last! He had been imprisoned at Davenport,
Iowa, with those who took part in the mas-
sacre and the battle following, and he was
taught in prison by the missionaries, Drs. William-
son and Riggs. When he was released and
had returned to the reservation on the Mis-
souri, he became fully convinced that life on
a government reservation meant nothing but
physical and moral degradation. Therefore he
determined, with several others, to try the white
man's way of gaining a livelihood. So they
took land, under the United States Home-
stead Law, on the Big Sioux River. When
he had settled there, he desired to seek his
lost child. It was then a dangerous under-
taking to cross the line, but his Christian love
prompted him to do it. He had secured a good
guide, and so found his way through the vast
As for me, I little dreamed of anything un-
usual to happen on my return. I carried the
game on my shoulder, and approached our
camp. I had not even the slightest expecta-
tion that I was suddenly to be hurled from
my savage life into a life unknown to me
hitherto. When I appeared in sight of the
camp, my father, who had patiently listened
to my uncle's long narrative of my training
and early life, became very much excited. He
was eager to embrace the child who, as he
had been informed, made it already the object

of his life to avenge a father's blood! The
loving father could not remain in the tepee
and watch the boy coming, so he started to
meet him. My uncle arose to go with his
brother for his safety.
My face burned with the unusual excite-
ment caused by the sight of a man wearing
the Big Knives' clothing, and coming toward
me with my uncle.
"What does this mean, Uncle ?"
"My boy, this is your father, my brother,
whom we mourned as dead. He has come for
My father added: "I am glad that my son
is strong and brave. Your brothers have all
adopted the white man's way; I came for you
to learn this new way, too, and I want you to
grow up to be a good man."
He had brought me some civilized clothing.
At first I disliked very much to wear garments
made by the people I had hated so bitterly.
But the thought that, after all, they had not
killed my father and brothers reconciled me;
and I put on the clothes.
In a few days we started for the States. I
felt as if I were dead, and traveling to the
Spirit land; for now all my old ideas were to
give way to new ones, and my life was to be
entirely different from that of the past. Still, I
was eager to see some of the wonderful inven-
tions of the white people. When we reached
Fort Totten, I gazed at everything about me
with lively interest and a quick imagination.
My father had forgotten to tell me that the
Fire-Boat-Walks-on-Mountains had its track
at Jamestown, and might appear at any mo-
ment. As I was watering the ponies, a pecu-
liar and tremendous shrilling noise pealed forth
just beyond the hills. The ponies lifted up
their heads and listened for a moment; then
snorting they ran over the prairie. Mean-
while, I too had taken the alarm, and listened
with the air of a boy who was badly scared,
I jumped on the back of one of the ponies,
and he dashed off at full speed. It was a
clear day; I could not imagine what had caused
such an unearthly noise. I thought the world
was about to burst in two. I got upon a hill
as the train appeared. "Oh!" I said to my-
self, "that is the Fire-Boat-Walks-on-Mountains



that I have heard about!" Then I drove back
the ponies.
My father was accustomed every morning to
read from his Bible, and sing a stanza of a
hymn. I was about very early with my gun
for several mornings; but at last he stopped me
as I was about to go out, and bade me wait. I
listened with much astonishment. The hymn
contained the word Jesus. I did not compre-
hend what this meant, and my father then told

me that Jesus was the Son of God who came
on earth to save sinners, and that it was be-
cause of him that he had sought me. This
conversation made a deep impression upon
my mind.
Late in that fall we reached the settlement at
Flandreau, South Dakota, where my father and
some others dwelt among the whites. Here
my wild life came to an end, and my school-
days began.


, ^eL W~!l\ l



-'itte 954st Cood night! Oh,yes, I 'most forgot! l Mama said
I must be sure to tell you that I'e had a very pleasant time ,




o SECOND TOUR: The home of fox, of deer, and bear,
THE BROWNIES And sheets of water passing fair,
IN THE Where gamy fish in waiting lie,
EMPIRE STATE. To test the angler's

keeping with the wishes phantom fly.
At old Ticon-
The Brownie band had cherished long, deroga's
As shades of evening closed around, site,
In haste they sought their meeting-ground.
No sooner had the roll been called,
And here," or present," each one bawled,
Than one remarked: "No need have we
For lengthy, talk, or special plea,
For all are willing, as we know,
To take the trip on which we go.
The Empire State before us lies,
And who that has a heart and eyes,
Would for one moment hesitate
To pay respects to such a State ?
So noted for its mountain land,
Its lovely bays, and rivers grand,
Its battle-fields, its brilliant men
Who carved their names with sword or pen
Upon the records of
the race 2
That changing years
cannot efface."
Another cried: "You ,1'
speak our minds;
One chain of thought '
-- the party binds, /' I
So let us every hour
improve, /
For time is ever on the move."
They visited Niagara Falls, (
Then lost no time to make their calls ,
On Watkins Glen, and ran with glee, i
To stand beside the Genesee;
Close to the brink they crawled to peep
Where Sam Patch took the fearful leap.
The Adirondacks, heaving blue
Against the sky, attention drew;


They moralized in language light.
Said one: "That was a grand surprise,
That history's pages memorize,
When, starting from his bed in fright,
The old commander rose that night,
To gaze on Ethan Allen's band,
And listen to his blunt command,
Which had a sort of business ring,
That spoke small honor for the king."
Said one: A cruise we ought to take ..-2
Upon Champlain's bright limpid lake,' '
Whereon McDonough brought in
The British squadron all to grief.
There, full in sight of Plattsburg town,
The haughty fleet came sailing down,
The flag-ship moving in the van,
According to the naval plan,

While others ranged diagonally
To port and starboard formed a V.
But soon McDonough's broadside broke
S The fine formation, while the smoke
SHid from the gaze of those on shore,
Who gathered at the cannon's roar,
All sign of ships, save masts alone
SThat still o'er battle-clouds were
". A shown,
S And told the watchers full and fair
i'1"f' Which ships were down or which were
'" there."
:--- Another said: "We have n't time;
S So let us seek that stream sublime
That first a mountain brooklet leaps,
Then as a river broadly sweeps,
Reflecting scenes on either side
Unequaled in the country wide.
And as we take our
seaward way,
Through Catskill
Mountains we
will stray--



Up rugged narrow passes creep, With quarters where the chief found rest,
Where Rip Van Winkle took his sleep, And sent his couriers to and fro
And woke in wonder
to find out
What twenty years
had brought

Ofttimes the Brow-
nies paused to
The points of in-
terest, as they
ran; -.
Indeed, at New-
burgtheymade -
To venture in the
building old
That is to folk of
every zone
As Washington's
Headquarters i

Said one: "Though ..
many towns are .
blessed .





To watch the actions of the foe,
This was the last he occupied
While in the field he stemmed the tide
Of British arms and British gold,
That long across the country rolled.
The patriots here broke ranks, and laid
Their hands to ax, and plow, and spade,
And from the long-neglected sod
Sprang up once more the ear and pod;
And children fled no more in fright
From redcoats' guns or bayo-
nets bright."
At times, the youngsters to
When on the morrow
they would
The Brownies paused
Or at the crossings
of the road,
And on a finger-
board or wall
With bits of chalk
or coal would
Or in some manner -
letter out

The hint that they had been about.
Said one, while they with joyful mien
Surveyed each bright and pleasing scene:
"Here where between the rich display
The river widens to the bay,
Some moments let us check our race
At Tarrytown to view the place
Where Major Andr6 was relieved


I" -. .

W. I


Of his despatch, and greatly grieved
To find both purse and prayers were naught
To Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart."
At length that city drew their eyes,
That on Manhattan Island lies.

Said one: "At last, my comrades true
That famous city comes in view,
So noted for its wondrous dower
Of wealth, and influence, and power;

Its open purse when comes
the cry
Of sad distress
from far or
Its millions
spent to
In heathen countries dark as night;
Museums great, its works of art,
Its press, and great commercial mart.
Here might we roam for nights and nights,
Still meeting new and wondrous sights.
But hark! the sound that sweetly falls
From Trinity's old belfry walls
Proclaims 't is now the hour of five,
And soon the town will be alive;
So we must quickly turn aside,
And in some cunning manner hide."




[Begun in the April number.]
IT was evening of the next day. There
were some little boys off at the end of the
wharf of Hezekiah Tipton's warehouses. Jack
went out to where they were.
A brig had come into the harbor-it lay at
anchor some distance away. The sails were
half reefed and hung limp from the yards. They
were washing down the decks. Jack could see
the men busy about the decks, and every now
and then a gush of dirty water as it ran out
the scupper-holes. A boat was just about put-
ting off from the brig. Presently some one
climbed down over the side of the vessel and
.into the boat, and then it was pushed off. It
came rowing straight to where he and the little
boys stood. It pulled in around the back of a
sloop that lay fast to the end of the wharf.
SJack jumped down from the wharf into the
sloop and went across the deck. The boat
had come in under the side of the sloop, and
the men were holding it fast to the chains.
They looked up at Jack as he came to the
rail of the sloop and looked down at them.
There were two men in the stern of the boat.
One was just about to climb aboard the sloop.
He was short and thick-set. He wore a rough
sea-coat with great flapped pockets and brass
buttons. One of his pockets bulged with a
pistol, the brass butt of which stuck out from
it. He wore dirty petticoat-breeches strapped
to his waist by a broad leather belt with a big,
flat, brass buckle. His face and neck were
tanned red-brown like russet leather. There
was something in the short bull neck, in the
sharp seams running across it, that spoke of
fullness of brutal -strength. He wore a hat
trimmed with tarnished gold braid, and a red
bandana handkerchief knotted loosely around
his neck. He stood with his hand resting upon
VOL. XXI.-78. 6

the rail of the sloop. "Do you know where
Master Hezekiah Tipton lives?" he asked in
a hoarse, rattling voice.
"Why, yes, I do," said Jack; "this is his
wharf, and I 'm his nephew."
"Well, then," said the man, "I wish you 'd
show me to him."
Jack looked into the office; Hezekiah was
not there. Come into the parlor," said Jack,
" and I '11 go and tell him you 're here." He
opened the door of the room that always smelt
damp and stuffy and unused. "If you '11 sit
down here," said Jack, I '11 go and find him.
Who shall I tell him wants him? "
Tell him 't is Captain Butts of the 'Arun-
del,'" said the stranger. He had seated himself
and was holding his hat awkwardly between his
knees, as if not knowing what to do with it. He
looked about him at his surroundings strangely.
There was in the distance the sound of a knife
and fork rattling against a plate. Jack, fol-
lowing the sound, went along the passage to
the room beyond. Hezekiah was sitting at sup-
per. "There's a man in the parlor," said Jack,
would like to see you. He says his name 's
Captain Butts of the Arundel."
Hezekiah was looking at Jack as he spoke.
He laid down his knife and fork immediately,
and pushed back his chair and arose. Jack fol-
lowed him back to the parlor. He stood out-
side of the door looking in. The stranger
arose as Master Tipton came in, holding out
his big, brown, hairy hand. "How d' ye do,
Master Tipton? I be mightily glad to see you.
I be Captain Butts of the Arundel."
"Well, then, Master Captain Butts," said
Hezekiah, giving him a limp hand, "I be
mightily glad to see you, for I 've been looking
for you these three days past, and wondering
where was the Arundel. There be them nine-
teen servants down at the Duck and Doe that
should have been took away yesterday. Their
lodging at the inn is a matter of ten pence a


day each. Now, who do you think 's to pay
for that there? "
"Well, well, Master," said the captain, in a
hoarse, growling voice, "'t were n't no fault of
mine that I were n't here yesterday. Wind
and weather be to blame; so whatever ye lose
ye may just charge up agin them. We can't
sail, without wind, and we can't sail agin
weather. As for the men, why, the sooner I
get my clearance papers and the men aboard,
the better 't will suit me. The tide turns at
eight o'clock, and if the wind comes up, as 't is
like to do, why, I '11 drop out and away."
Master Hezekiah looked around. Jack was
still standing in the doorway. "You go in and
get your supper, Jacky," said he; and then he
got up and closed the door.
All the time that Jack sat at his meal old
Deborah scolded him ceaselessly for being late
to his meal.
In the interval of her scolding, Jack could
hear the distant rumbling of Captain Butts's
voice in the office.
It grew darker and darker in the twilight
gloom of the kitchen, until Jack could hardly
see the food upon his plate. I wish you 'd
bring a candle, Deborah," said he; "I can
hardly see to find the way to my mouth."
A candle said Deborah. If you 'd come
to your supper in time you 'd not need a can-
dle to see. Now you may just go without."
"Very well," said Jack, "I don't care, for
I 'm done."
"Then, if you 're done, you can go down to
the pump and fetch back some water."
Jack took the pail and went off with it. He
was gone a long time. The night was fairly
settled when he came stumbling back into the
kitchen, slopping the water upon the steps and
the floor.
"Why," said Deborah, I thought you was
never coming. Your uncle 's asking for you in
the office. He wants to see you there."
"Very well," said Jack, "if I 'd known that
maybe I 'd 'a' hurried and maybe I would n't."
In the office he found Captain Butts seated
at a tall desk, his chin resting upon his hands.
He looked up at Jack, with his keen gray eyes,
from under his bushy eyebrows. Is this the
boy ? said he. Hezekiah, who sat opposite to

his visitor, nodded without speaking. "Come
hither, my hearty," said Captain Butts, beckon-
ing to Jack.
Jack came forward slowly. When he had
drawn near enough, Captain Butts suddenly
caught him by the arm and held him tight,
feeling up and down the length of it. Ye be
well put together, my hearty," said he; "ye 'd
make a valuable servant in the tobacco-fields,"
and he winked at the lad. Now, how would
you like to take a cruise to the Americas with
old Benny Butts? "
Jack jerked his arm away from the captain's
grasp. "I am well enough off here as I am,
thank you, Master Captain," said he, "and I
don't choose to go to the Americas."
The captain burst out laughing. He fetched
a thump upon the desk before him. Hark 'e
to that, now!" said he; "he don't choose to
go to the Americas! and he gave another roar
of laughter.
Master Hezekiah sat looking on at the two,
resting his forehead upon his lean fingers and
his hand shading his eyes from the light of
the candle. Suddenly he cut into what the
captain was saying. "Come, come, Captain
Butts!" said he sharply, "let there be an end
to this! Sure you forget what you 're saying.
Come hither," said he to Jack. Jack came,
around to him, and the old man lifted the lid
of the desk and brought out a bundle of
papers and a little bag of money. He counted
out a few coins, which he made into a little
pile. Then he untied the tape and chose one
from among them. Jack stood watching him.
" Here be a list of the America servants down
at the Duck and Doe," said Hezekiah; "and
this-" here he chinked the money between
his-fingers as he gave it to Jack--"is fifteen
shillings ten pence. You pay Landlord Evans
his account, and then give this release to
Master Weems, the crimp who hath them in
charge. After that I want you to deliver the
men to the captain down at the wharf, d' ye
understand ?"
"I think I do," said Jack.
"Captain Butts will give you a receipt for
the men at the wharf. But I want you to see
them aboard the boat, d' ye understand ?"
"Yes," said Jack, "I think I do."




"Very well, come along, my hearty," said
the captain; "for 't is time I was getting
aboard again if we 're going to catch the turn
of the tide."

OUTSIDE in the street it had grown fairly
dark. The unlighted court was very black,
only here and there a dim light shining in a
window. Jack and the captain walked along
the court together, the captain stumbling and
tripping in the darkness. At the end of the
court they parted, the captain going on along
to the wharf and Jack to the Duck and Doe.
He found the crimp, and gave him Hezekiah's
release; and then the redemptioners immedi-
ately began to make themselves ready. There
was something pitiful in the meagerness of their
preparation. One or two of them had nonde-
script bundles tied up in handkerchiefs, and one
had a pair of stockings wrapped up in a piece
of dirty paper. Beyond this they had nothing
at all to take with them to the New World
to which they were bound.
The crimp brought them out into the court
of the inn and arranged them in some sort of
order, two and two, in the dim light of the lan-
tern. They jostled and pushed one another and
leered at Jack as he stood looking at them
helplessly. "Why, Master, I don't know whe-
ther I '11 be able to take them down to the
wharf or not," said he.
Oh, you '11 be able to take us," said a big,
bull-necked fellow. "A baby 'd lead us wher-
ever he chose for to do!" and then the redemp-
tioners laughed.
Well, I don't know," said the crimp, shak-
ing his head as he looked them over; "like
enough I 'd better go with you as far as the
wharf. Look 'e!" said he to the redemptioners,
I won't have none of your tricks; d' ye un-
derstand ? D' ye see this?" and he showed
them a bludgeon. The first man as tries any
of his tricks, I knocks him on the head, d' ye
understand ? "
"Why, Master," said one of the redemption-
ers, "you would n't hurt us, would you? We
be your lambs."
Never you mind," said the crimp, shaking

his head. Don't you go trying any of your
tricks on me. Come along now,-march!"
"Hurrah for the Duck and Doe!" cried out
one of the men.
They gave a broken and confused cheer as
they marched away out of the court, the crimp
walking beside the first couple and Jack coming
after to keep a lookout upon them.
So they marched along for a while, down first
one street and then another, until they had
come to the water-front. Here the store-houses
stood dark and deserted as they passed by
them. At last they came to the wharf, across
which the night wind swept without obstacle.
Well," said the crimp, I '11 leave you here.
'T is no use my going any further."
"Yes," said Jack," I suppose I can manage
them very well myself, now."
I '11 just wait under the lee of the shed
here," said the crimp, "till I see you 're all
"Very well," said Jack. "Come along,"-
to the men. They stood shivering in their
thin, ragged clothes. At Jack's bidding they
now marched out along the wharf. There was
a dim light in the darkness at the end of the
wharf, where the sloop, black and shapeless
in the night, lay moored to the piles. When
Jack came to where the light was, he found
two dark figures standing waiting for him on
the wharf. One of them was Captain Butts,
the other was the man who had come off with
him in the boat from the brig, and who now
carried a lantern hanging over his arm. There
were two or three men standing on the deck of
the sloop, one of them also carrying a lantern.
Jack knew that the boat which had brought
the captain off from the brig was lying beyond
in the darkness; he could hear the muttering
voices of the men.
Captain Butts had twisted his handkerchief
well up about his throat.
"Well," said he, I thought you were never
"I came as soon as I could," said Jack.
"Just bring the men out across the sloop
to the boat here," said the captain. And
at Jack's bidding, the men one after another
jumped down from the wharf to the sloop.
Jack followed them and the captain, and the



man with the lantern followed Jack. Where 's
your list?" said the captain; and then, as Jack
gave it to him-" Hold the lantern here, Dyce.
That 's it." The captain held the list to the
dull light, referring to it as he counted the
shivering transports who stood in line. "Six-
teen seventeen eighteen -nineteen -nine-
teen all told. That 's right. Now, then, look
alive, my hearties, and get aboard as quick as
you can!"
Jack stood with his hands in his pockets and
his back to the chill night breeze. The wharf
and the sloop, deserted in the night, seemed
singularly lonely. The water, driven by the
wind, splashed and dashed noisily around the
end of the wharf. He stood upon the deck of
the sloop watching the redemptioners as they
clambered clumsily into the boat alongside,
stumbling over the thwarts in the darkness,
and settling themselves, amid the growling and
swearing of the sailors. "Are you all right? "
asked the captain.
"All right, sir," said Dyce.
The captain turned suddenly and sharply
toward Jack. Now, then," said he, "you get.
aboard too !" Jack gaped at him. "You get
aboard too said the captain again.
"What do you mean ? "
"Why," said the captain, roughly, "I mean
what I say. You 're to go aboard too."
Jack still stared at the other, then he laughed.
"Why," said he, "what d' ye mean? I 'm not
going along."
Suddenly, like a flash, the captain reached
out and caught Jack by the collar. The attack
was so sharp and unexpected that Jack had no
time to prepare himself. Before he knew what
had happened he found himself dragged vio-
lently and flung forward toward the boat. He
was dazed and-stunned with the suddenness of
what had happened. He heard the captain's
voice saying, "You get in there! You do as
I tell you if you know what 's good for you !"
For a moment Jack did not realize what had
happened. Then almost instantly the truth
flashed upon him; with the instant flash his
strength came back to him. He struggled
fiercely, twisting and writhing, but the captain
held him in a vise-like grasp. Let me go! "
gasped Jack,-" let me go! "

Into the boat, I tell ye!" he heard the cap-
tain's voice growling. Again he was, jerked
and flung forward violently toward the rail of
the sloop. The boats and the dark waters were
just below. He saw dimly, his sight blurred
with the frenzy of his struggles, that the men
were stirring and moving below. He flung out
his feet against the rail, bracing himself against
the captain's hold; at the same time he
clutched hold of the stays.
"You will, will you?" panted the captain.
He suddenly jerked Jack backward. Jack had
just time to see.a whirling flash in the light of
the lantern. Then there came a deafening,
blinding crash. Ten thousand sparkling stars
flew whirling around and around him. He felt
a hot stream shoot down across his face, and he
knew that it was blood. There was another
crash, this time duller and more distant; then a
humming that droned away into stillness-
then nothing.
"Why, Captain," said Dyce, "I believe you
've killed the fellow."
The captain thrust back again into his pocket
the pistol with which he had struck Jack. Oh!
he 's all right," said he, roughly; "he '11 come
to by and by; he 's only stunned a trifle. Get
him aboard and be quick about it! There 's
somebody coming along the wharf now. Here,
here 's his hat. Catch it there!"

FOR a long while Jack was very light-headed
and sick. He did not seem to have any
strength. It seemed to him that several days
passed while he lay in his berth, now partly
waking, now partly sleeping. When he was
partly awake his mind seemed to wander, and
he could not separate the things he saw now
from the things he had seen before. Both
seemed grotesque and distorted. It seemed to
him that his father was nearly always with him.
He had a sum to do, and he kept adding up
the figures and adding up the figures, but al-
ways when he would get the sum nearly com-
plete it would fall to pieces, and he would have
to begin over again. And there was his father
waiting and waiting for him to do it. And




there was the sloping deck of the vessel and
the berths upon the other side, and the brig ris-
ing and falling, and rolling upon the sea.
There was the creaking and groaning, and rat-
tling and sliding, and there were men talking
together and smoking their pipes. The pun-
gent smell of the tobacco was sickening to him.
The steerage was a nasty, bad-smelling, dirty
place. If he could only do the sum, then his
father would go away and he would be well,
and he would go up on deck. Oh, how his
head ached! Then the night would come and
he would be partly asleep. Sometimes he
would lie half dreaming for an hour or more,
and in the darkness the things of his fancy
were very real. Nobody seemed to pay much
attention to him. It seemed to him that he re-
membered that very soon after he had been
brought aboard, Dyce, the mate, had come to
where he lay, bringing somebody along, and
that they had stood over him, talking about
him, and that a number of other people had
stood near. The man who had come with the
mate was a thin little man with a long, lean
chin. He was a barber-leech, and his name was
Sim Tucker. Sim Tucker had trimmed Jack's
hair. Then he hurt him very much. It
seemed to be a grotesque nightmare that the
barber-leech was sewing up his head. Then a
bandage was tied around his head, and he was
very comfortable. Jack knew very well that it
was all a dream, and he was always surprised
to wake up and find the bandage around his
Now and then Sim Tucker would come
and ask him: How d' ye feel now ?"
Why," said Jack, if my father would only
go away-but I can't do the sum."
Why, your father says 't was done all right."
Then it seemed to Jack that the figures did
fit into the sum and for a little while he was
After a while he began to get better and his
head grew clearer. One day he went up to the
deck. He had not eaten anything at all, and
was very weak. He climbed up the companion-
way and stood with his head just above the
scuttle. With the rise and fall of the vessel, Jack
could catch every now and then a glimpse of
the wide, troubled ocean, moving and heaving

with ceaselessly restless crawling; of the sharp
rim of the horizon, cut sharply and blackly
against the gray sky. Every now and then
there was a great rush of air from the vast hol-
low sails overhead that swept back and forth,
back and forth across the wide, windy sky. The
sailors looked at him as he stood there with the
bandage wrapped around his head. He began
to feel very sick and dizzy with the motion of
the vessel, and presently he crept down below
back to his berth again.
"Be you feeling better?" said one of the
men, coming to him.
"Yes, I think I am," said Jack; "only it
makes me sick and faint-like to stand up."
"Well, you 've been pretty sick," said the
man, and that 's the solemn truth. I thought
that the captain had killed you for sure when
I saw him hit you that second crack with the
Several of the other redemptioners had gath-
ered about his berth and stood looking down
at him. Jack wished they would go away. He
lay quite still with his eyes shut, and by and
by they did leave him.
He felt very lonely and deserted. A great
lump rose in his throat when he thought of
all that had happened to him. I have not
a friend in the world," he said to himself. It
seemed very cruel to be treated as he had been,
and to be carried, away to slavery in the Amer-
icas. Well, he would not stay there; they should
not keep him. He would find some way to get
back home again. There must be some way of
escape; for they would not chain him or put
him in prison. Presently Sim Tucker came to
him. How d' ye feel? said he.
"Oh, I feel better," said Jack, irritably; "I
wish you 'd go away and let me alone."
*" Let me look at your head," said the leecher.
He unwound the bandage deftly with his long,
lean fingers. "Aye," said he, "ye're getting
along well now. To-morrow I '11 take out two
of the stitches. He must have hit ye with the
cock of the pistol to make a great, big, nasty
cut like that."
But the fever had quitted him and Jack
began to get well very quickly. After he was
once fairly able to be up on deck he had to
take his part in the work allotted to the other


redemptioners, such as washing the decks,
painting and tarring the ropes, and the like.
The first time he came face to face with Cap-
tain Butts, he did not know what to do or where
to look. He was standing in line, waiting for his
mess of junk and biscuit to be served out to
him, when the captain suddenly appeared. He
stood by the rail, holding by the backstays,
looking on at the men as the food was served
out to them. At first Jack did not dare to look
at him, but finally he did glance up sullenly.
The captain did not seem to observe him. The
redemptioners were joking coarsely with one
What was that ye said ? said the captain.
A man repeated the rude jest, and the cap-
tain laughed. Jack saw by Captain Butts's
indifference that he himself need expect no
further harm.

Jack was almost well. He sat on a sea-
chest while Sim Tucker dressed his head. Sim,
who had some water in a cup, washed the
wound with a piece of rag, touching it deftly
and lightly with the tips of his long, thin fin-
gers. Jack sat brooding over his wrongs as
Sim looked at the wound. "Well," said Sim
Tucker, after having finished the examination
of the place, "I '11 tie up your head just
once more; but to-morrow I '11 put a plaster
on it, and then ye '11 be about well."
He might as well have killed me at once,"
said Jack, moodily, "as to kidnap me this
"Why," said Sim, "to be sure 't was a pretty
hard case; but then, you're not the only soul in
the world, by a long score, that was ever kid-
Jack looked up from under his brooks at the
lean, intent face looking at his wounded head.
"Well, then," said he, "and pray how does that
better me?"
Sim looked down at him. He was holding
two or three pins tightly between his lips.
"Why," said he, "I don't know that it makes
your case any better; but all the world can't
stop to pity ye, d' ye see, when there be others
in just as bad a case."
"Well," said Jack, after awhile, "there 's
this about it: they sha'n't keep me when I get

ashore in the Virginias; I '11 find some way to
get back home again, see if I don't. As for my
case being a common case of kidnapping, why,
that 't is not. Here am I with a fortune just
left me, and it big enough to buy up the whole
of this brig and Captain Butts into the bar-
gain, and yet to be carried away in this fashion
as though I were no better than a London ken-
nel picker. I tell you"-and his voice choked
-" 't is a mightily hard case!"
Sim made no comment. He finished tying
up Jack's head, pinning the last pin and patting
down the bandage smooth.

THERE was a man on board of the Arundel
who had once been one of the America pirates.
His name was Christian Dred. It was the
name that first caught Jack's ears. Christian
Dred!" said he; "why, that 's as strange a
name as ever I heard in all my life!" Then
one day he asked of the man himself, Is Chris-
tian Dred your real name ? "
My real name! repeated the man; "why,
certain 't is my real name. What d' ye think
they 'd call me Christian Dred for if 't were n't
my real name? "
"Why, I don't know," said Jack; "'t is
such a strange name."
'T is n't strange to me," said Dred, "seeing
as how I 've carried it nigh forty year."
But it was when he heard the men talking
about the man, and saying that he was a pirate,
that Christian Dred really became wonderful
to him.
The names of Captain Avery and of Captain
Kidd were very famous in England, and Jack
had often heard stories about them. Just at
that time, both the Americas and the Indian
Ocean were overrun with pirates. It was about
the time that Captain Edward England had
made himself famous by capturing a treasure-
ship with, it was said, an Indian princess
aboard. Blackbeard in the Americas had made
himself quite as famous. Jack had many and
many a time listened to stories about these
pirates, never quite believing them. Now it
seemed almost incredible to him that Dred




had really been a pirate, and he hardly could
believe it. Everything about the man became
strange and wonderful to him; the red hand-
kerchief he always wore around his head, the
ear-rings in his ears, and the narrow, bead-like
eyes, and the crooked scar down across his
cheek. It seemed to him that Dred was just
what he would have pictured a pirate to be.
One day there were three or four of the
crew and some of the redemptioners lounging
up under the lee of the bow rail. Spin us a
yarn, Dred," said a sailor named Stivins.
"Tell us about the 'Good Intent,' Dred,"
said another.
Oh, I 've told you that afore," said Dred.
Heave ahead, and tell you about the Good
Intent, Dred," said Stivins.
Dred took his tobacco-pipe out of his pocket
and began very carefully to fill it. Well,"
said he, "the Good Intent were a bark, and
she sailed from Bristol, England-"
Oh, go back to the beginning," said Stivins;
about your being with Blackbeard."
Dred was striking his flint-and-steel, and did
not speak until after he had lit his pipe and
puffed out several clouds of smoke. "Well,
then," said he, I were with Blackbeard. We'd
cruised up from Honduras and had stopped
off at Charleston. I 've often told you about
that there, the way Morton and we went
ashore at Charleston, and made 'em gin up a
chest of medicine, and how Blackbeard stopped
all the crafts a-coming into Charleston harbor.
Well, arter that-and we made a pretty good
purchase of it, too-Captain Blackbeard ma-
rooned a lot of men off a sand-spit at Topsail
Inlet. Then we got away through Ocracock
and Pamlico to Bath Town.
"Well, arter we 'd been at Bath Town for
a while, we went off on another cruise. We
sailed about the bay and up and down for
maybe nigh onto a month without overhaul-
ing much of any account. Then one day the
lookout sighted a sail bound seeming for the
Chesapeake Capes. When we raised her we
made her out to be a bark of six or seven hun-
dred tons' burden. That were early in the
morning, as I mind me. Well, we chased her
all day, and at last overhauled her about two
hours of sunset. We fired a gun across her

bows, but she would n't surrender, being armed
and having a stomach for fighting. She fired
at us and hit us a many times, and we fired
maybe a dozen or so broadsides afore she
hauled down her colors and we could come
aboard her. She was cut up mortal bad. The
captain was wounded, and two men was hurt
so bad that one on 'em died while we was
aboard. That there bark was the most valley-
able purchase we 'd made for many a day,
being ladened with cloth goods and general
supplies to a rich planter, which his name was
Parker. Captain Teach had the captain up and
was for axin' him all about the prize, but we
could make little or naught out o' him. He
would n't speak a word. I won't tell ye all
that Captain Teach did to him; but no, he
would n't speak a word. So Captain Teach
had up the supercargo, for the lubber had
gone below. The man was so scared-like
that me and another fellow had to carry him
up, and then hold him betwixt us, else he
would have fallen on deck like a block. He
begged and prayed us not to shoot him, and
made such a mouth of it that Captain Black-
beard vowed he would shoot him if he did
not hold his noise. Then he began axin' him
questions, until by and by it came out that
there were a chist of money aboard in care of
young Mr. Ed'ard Parker, who was coming
home from England, where he 'd been to col-
lege. We all knowed who Mr. Ed'ard Parker
was, seeing' as how his father, Colonel Parker,
is so great a man in Virginy, d' ye see ?
"'And where 's the young gentleman and
the money?' asked the captain.
"'Why,' says the supercargo, I see him go
into the round-house just afore I go below.'
"As soon as we heard that," continued Dred,
"a parcel of us runs across the deck and tried
the door of the round-house, but found it
locked. We sang out, but nobody answered
our hail a word. Then up comes Captain
Blackbeard and fetched the door a kick.
Hello there!' says he; open this here door
and give up that money ye have, and we '11
do 'e no harm.' But all the time my gentle-
man says ne'er a word. If ye don't open
the door,' says Blackbeard, 'we '11 smash her
open, and I '11 blow the head off ye.' Then



my gentleman inside speaks up at last, and as
cool as ice. No,' says he, I won't open the
door, and I won't gin up the money; 't was
left,' s'ys he, 'in my charge, and I won't give
it up but with my life.'
"Then the captain fell into one of his mad
roaring humors, and vowed that he would have
that young Mr. Parker out of the round-house
if every man aboard died for it. So half a score
of us ran ag'in' the door, but it was braced with
summat inside and would n't give way. Then
my gentleman inside begins firing through the
panel of the door--bang--bang! and then
again bang bang! and three men tumbled
down, one of them shot so bad through the
neck that we had to hale him off by his legs,
and he died in a little bit just at the bottom
of the poop-ladder.
"Arter that there, we all went back a bit-
not caring to be shot down for naught. As for
Captain Teach, why, to be sure, he was like a
man possessed. I never see a man like him
then out o' Bedlam. He was just for murder-
ing every soul aboard; and Hands and Morton
(he was our gunner) was a-talking with him to
pacify him like, and the captain of the craft was
standing' as pale as a sheet whils' our captain
shook his fist under his nose and bawled at him
so that no man could 'a' knowed what he said.
"'No, no,' said the captain of .the bark;
'don't you do us no harm. I '11 go and try to
get him to come out; and that, to be sure, is
the very best I can do.' Then he goes up to
the round-house. Mr. Ed'ard,' says he, 'ye 'd
best open the door to 'em, or I can't answer for
their not murtherin' the lot of us.'
"'No,' says he, speaking' up as bold as a
bo's'n; I won't open to nobody,' says he.
"Well, seeing' as how we was making' nothing
of it all by the way we was doing, I climbed up
on the poop-deck, thinking maybe to get a sight
of my young gentleman through the skylight.
But no; he had blocked up the skylight with
mattresses from the captain's berth. So then
I went across the poop-deck to the stern falls.
The boat had been shot away by one of our
broadsides and the lines hung loose from the
davits. I lashed two on 'em together and let
myself down from the davits with one hand,
holding my pistol with t' other. I eased my-

self to one side until I was low enough, and
then I peeped in at the stern window. There
I could see my yolng gentleman off beyond in
the captain's cabin standing close by the door;
and I can see him now, as plain as I can see
this here hand o' mine. He had pulled a
couple of sea-chists to the door, and he had
a plank from the captain's berth set agin 'em
and propped agin the braces of the table. He
was in his shirt-sleeves, and he had a pistol in
each hand. The captain o' the bark was still
a-talkin' to him from t' other side of the door,
and I could hear my young gentleman shouting
that he would never gin up the money. He
had his head turned to one side and he did n't
see me, so I crawled in through the window.
But I 'd no more 'n set foot on deck than all
on a sudden he wheeled like a flash, and afore
I knowed what he was at had fired his pistol
fair for my head. I felt the wind of the ball,
and it smashed into a chiny closet just behind
me. Then I ran and caught him just afore he
had a chance to shoot ag'in. I caught t' other
pistol and tried to pull it away from him, but
he would not gin it up. Then afore I knowed
what had happened, the pistol went off. I
thought my head was blowed off at first with
the noise and the blaze of it, and when I came
to myself like ag'in, there was I a-standing with
the pistol in my hand, and there was Mr. Ed'ard
Parker a-lying across the chist afore the door."
"Was he killed ? asked Brookes.
"I think he were," said Dred; "anyways he
was dead afore we could get him out of the
"Well, that there fight aboard the bark was
too much for me, and too much for the rest
on us for the matter of that. Aye; it meant
the gallows for all on us and naught else, for
Mr. Parker's father is like a king in Virginia,
and we all knowed he 'd hunt the last- man
on us down and hang us, if we gin him the
chance. Well, just about that time the king
had sent over his pardon to all pirates as would
surrender to it. So arter we got to North
Carolina we just run up to Edenton and sur-
rendered to the governor. He was a good
friend of Captain Blackbeard's, he was, and he
came down to Bath Town twice while we were
there, and the captain was up six or eight



VOL. XXI.-79. 625


times to Edenton. Well, we surrendered to the
royal proclamation, and arter that there was no
touching any on us at all with the law. I tell
you what 't is, messmates, I never miss having
that there pardon with me, I can tell you."
Have you got it with you now ?" asked
"Aye; I have," said Dred.
Show it to 'em, Chris," said Stivins.
Dred thrust his hand into the bosom of his
shirt and drew out a parcel wrapped in oilskin.
It was hung by a bit of twine around his neck.
He untied the packet very carefully, and un-
wrapped the oilskin and brought out an
engrossed form filled in with a bold black
signature. "That there," said he, "pardons
Chris Dred, as ye may read for yourself, for all
offenses whatsoever committed upon the high
seas; d' ye see ?"
It was passed around the circle. It seemed
to Jack when he held and looked at it and saw
that it was all so, that the paper did really par-
don Dred for piracy that he had committed,-
as though it were a sort of documentary evi-
dence to the truth of the story. He would not
perhaps have really believed that Dred had
been a pirate if he had not seen the royal par-
don with his own eyes. It was returned to
Dred, who wrapped it up as carefully as he had
unwrapped it.
What became of the chist of money that they
had aboard ? said one of the redemptioners.
"Why," said Dred, "that there chist of
money was buried at night, and there be no-
body in the world except Pirate Blackbeard
and Chris Dred knows where 't is."
"Do you believe that story?" said a redemp-
tioner afterward to Jack.
"Why, yes, I do," said Jack; "for did n't I
see the pardon with my own eyes ? "
"That don't prove anything," said another
of the redemptioners. "I don't believe there
was any chist of money taken that Chris Dred
and Blackbeard buried betwixt 'em. Why,
that don't stand'to reason, that don't. What
would they go a-burying money for instead
of spending it? And then, what for would
Blackbeard show Chris Dred where 't was
That had not struck Jack before. "Well,"

said he, after thinking a moment, I believe it
anyhow." And then the man laughed at him.
One day Jack was going through the fore-
castle. Dred sat on a sea-chest mending a pair
of sea-breeches. Jack sat down and watched
him driving the needle swiftly and deftly. At
last Dred ended his task, patted down the
patch he had done, tied the thread and bit it
off with a snap of his white teeth. He opened
his gunny-bag and brought out a paper. He
unfolded it, and Jack saw that it contained
besides an assortment of buttons, some little
trinkets of various sorts. One-the most con-
spicuous-was a dozen or more pieces of
money strung on a bit of wire. Jack watched
him for a while as he fingered over the but-
tons, picking out one here and another there.
"What's all that money strung on that wire
for, Dred ? asked he at last.
Dred turned upon him. He held the thread
with which he had been sewing between his
lips. "What makes you hang around me all
the time and ax me questions?" said he.
"You be big enough to be a man, but you
act like a boy all the while. What makes
you tease me forever with questions?"
Jack hesitated for a moment. He did not
know whether to answer Dred frankly or not,
and then he concluded to do so and take his
chance of offending the other. Because,"
said he, I think you are the wonderfulest man
I ever saw." He blushed after he had spoken.
Dred looked steadily at him for a moment
or two, and Jack saw that he was not dis-
pleased. Then Dred smiled. He reached out
and caught Jack by the collar and gave him
a shake. "And so you think I 'm a wonderful
man, do you?" said he.
"Yes," said Jack, glad to laugh, "I do think
you are a wonderful man."
"What makes you think I am a wonderful
man ?"
Why," said Jack, "because you tell such
wonderful stories. Was that really so, Dred,
about that bark that the pirates took and about
that chest of money, and about you and Black-
beard burying it ?"
"Yes, it were," said Dred, "gospel truth-
leastwise Captain Blackbeard buried the money,
and I know where he buried it."


' [MAY,


He picked up the string of jingling coins.
He held it out in his hand. "This here
money," said he--" this here money came off
of that same bark." He shook the jingling
pieces of coin together.

Then he wrapped them up with the buttons
and put the paper away into the gunny-bag
After that Christian Dred was always very
kind to Jack.
continued )


TMl wort @ma tThe days of the wique
Noj 5F91 ho pW monday.
T c@@Mol day, Maunday --
AMd now, a RGw Ugacher they vmokc.



S. -





I 'LL give you three chances
To guess what I 've seen.
The first was a preacher,
In brown and in green;
The second a vase to hold raindrops that fall;
The third lives on nothing-
Now what are they all?

"Your first is so easy
I could not but guess.
'T is Jack-in-the-pulpit
In brown-and-green dress.
The second's a pitcher-plant
Wet with the dew-
I 've seen plenty of them
And that's how I knew.
The third is the air-plant-
You 're wrong to declare

That it lives upon nothing;
Its food 's in the air.

"And now come my riddles:
You 've heard, I don't doubt,
Of a sailor whose boat
On the sea floats about.
The second's a builder
In wood and in clay.
The third is a spinner;
Now guess-what are they?"

The nautilus sails in his boat on the sea,
And so I am certain the sailor is he.
The beaver builds houses of mud and of wood,
And that is your second. 'T is well understood
How a spider spins traps for the poor silly fly.
But not to be caught by your riddles am I!

Agnes Lewis Mitchill.

L t,


>/~i'-.;w'^/.-^ ^,






n- .l


A LEARNED scholar possessed a parrot which
was always in his study. It sat upon the back
of his chair and picked up some phrases in
Greek and Latin as well as some of the wise
comments the scholar muttered as he pored
over his books. Every day students came to
the scholar in pursuit of knowledge.
It happened that the scholar fell sick, and for
many days was unable to attend his class. On
recovering, he returned to his study and found

the parrot from its perch on the back of his
chair holding forth to a much augmented class,
which stood lost in admiration.
My friends," said the scholar, "to seem to
know a thing, contents you more than to know
it really. I resign my charge, and henceforth
the parrot shall be your teacher."
And, strange to say, when the scholar left
them with the parrot the students were well

41 ..,'~




THE first American man of letters, Benjamin
Franklin, was a man of letters only incidentally,
and, as it were, accidentally; for he was a
printer by trade, a politician by choice, and
never an author by profession. Franklin wrote
abundantly, but what he wrote was always to
help along a cause he had at heart; he never
sat down deliberately to compose a book, and
his greatest work, his "Autobiography," was
not published until many years after his death.
The first American who frankly adopted litera-
ture as a calling, and who successfully relied on
his pen for his support, was Washington Irving.
The first American who was a professed author
was not Franklin, who was born a Bostonian
and who died a Philadelphian; but Irving,
who was born, who lived, and who died a
Washington Irving's father was a Scotchman
who had settled in New York a dozen years
before the Revolution. During the British oc-
cupation of Manhattan Island, the Irvings were

stanch patriots, and did what they could to
relieve the sufferings of the American prisoners
in the city. A few months before the evacua-
tion day, which the inhabitants of New York
were to keep as a holiday for a century after,
Washington Irving was born, on April 3, 1783,
being, like Benjamin Franklin, the youngest
of many sons. The boy was not baptized until
after Washington and his army had entered the
city. "Washington's work is ended," said the
mother, "and the child shall be named after
New York came out of the Revolution half
in ruins, and wasted by its long captivity; its
straggling streets filled only the toe of the
island, and it had less than twenty-five thou-
sand inhabitants. But the little city began to
grow again as soon as peace returned. It was
in New York, in 1789, that Washington took
the oath as the first President of these United
States. One day not long thereafter a Scotch
maid-servant of the Irvings', struck with the en-


thusiasm which everywhere greeted the great
man, followed him into a shop with the young-
est son of the family, and said, Please, your
honor, here 's a bairn was named for you."
Washington placed his hand on the head of
the boy, and gave him his blessing.
New York was then the capital of the coun-
try; it was a spreading seaport; it retained
many traces of its Dutch origin; it had in its
streets men of every calling and of every color.
Here the boy grew up happy, going to school
and getting knowledge out of books, but also
lingering along the pier-heads, and picking up
the information to be gathered in that best of
universities a great city. He was playful ra-
ther than studious; and although two of his
brothers had been educated at Columbia Col-
lege, he neglected to enter--a blunder which he
regretted all his life, and which Columbia regrets
to this day. Perhaps the fault may be charged
to his health, which was poor, and for the sake
of improving it he began to live much in the
open air, making voyages up the Hudson in
sloops that then plied as packets between New
York and Albany. The first sail through the
highlands was to him a time of intense delight,
and the Catskill Mountains had the most
witching effect on his boyish imagination.
Nowadays, we are used to hearing the Hudson
praised, but it was Irving who first proclaimed
its enchanting beauty; and it was when he was
a dreaming youth that he discovered its charm.
Much against the grain he began to read
law, but his studies were only fitful. One
of his brothers established a daily paper in
1802; and to this Washington, then only nine-
teen, contributed a series of occasional essays
under the signature of Jonathan Oldstyle.
These were humorous and sportive papers, and
they were copied far and wide, as the sayings of
Poor Richard had been quoted fifty years be-
fore. The next summer, Irving made a journey
up the Mohawk, to Ogdensburg, and thence to
Montreal. The year after, being then just
twenty-one, his brothers sent him to Europe in
the hope that the long sea-voyage and the
change of scene might restore him to health.
Irving had to be helped up the side of the ship,
and the captain said to himself, "There 's a
chap who will go overboard before we get

across." The voyage did him good, and from
Bordeaux he went on to Genoa; he pushed
on as far as Sicily, and came back to Rome;
then turned north to Paris, and finally crossed
over to London. After a year and a half of
most enjoyable wandering he took ship again
for home, and arrived in New York safely after
a stormy passage of sixty-four days.
Washington Irving now returned to the
study of law, and he was soon admitted to the
bar a proof rather of the mercy of the ex-
aminers than of the amount of his legal know-
ledge. He never made any serious attempt to
earn his living as a lawyer. Only a few weeks
after his admission, he, his brother William, and
his friend James K. Paulding, sent forth the
first number of Salmagundi," an irregular pe-
riodical suggested, perhaps, by the "Spectator"
of Addison and Steele, but droller, more wag-
gish, and with sharper shafts for folly as it flies.
The first number was published in January,
1807, and caused not only great amusement,
but also much wonder as to the real names of
the daring authors. The twentieth, and final
number, appeared a year later. Irving always
spoke of it as a very juvenile production, and
such it is, no doubt; but it was brisk and lively,
indeed it was brighter than anything of the kind
yet written in America; and in the papers con-
tributed by Washington Irving we can see the
germs of certain of his later works.
One of these papers pretended to be a chap-
ter from "The Chronicles of the Renowned
and Ancient City of Gotham," and Irving's
next literary undertaking was a burlesque his-
tory of New York, which he and his brother
Peter undertook to write together. The broth-
ers had heaped up many notes when Peter was
called away, and Washington, changing the
plan of the book, began to write it alone. He
started on his labor joyful and happy, but he
ended it in the depths of sorrow. He was in
love with Miss Matilda Hoffman, a charming
and graceful girl, and their marriage had been
agreed on. Suddenly, having caught a bad
cold, which went to her lungs, after a brief
illness she died. Irving, then twenty-six, bore
the blow like a man, but he carried the scar
to the grave. To his most intimate friends
he never mentioned her name. For several


months after her death he wandered aimlessly,
unable to apply himself to anything. Then he
went back to his work, and finished the bur-
lesque history of New York. It may seem

From an etching by James D. Smillie after a sketch from life by
at Sunnyside, July, x848.*
strange that a book of such bubbling humor
should be the result of those days of darkness;
but as has often happened in literature, the writ-
ings at which people laugh longest are the work
of men who are grave rather than gay.
"A History of New York, by Diedrich
Knickerbocker," was published in December,
1809. It was a playful parody of the annals of
New Amsterdam, laughing at the Dutch bur-
ghers who had founded the capital of New
Holland, and making fun of their manners and
their customs. It is no wonder that "Knick-
erbocker" was received with acclamation. It
was the most readable book which had yet
appeared in America-for Franklin's "Auto-
biography" did not get into print until 1817.
At home it gave a name to a time in New

York's history, and to a set of the city's tradi-
tions, a name even now in popular use, for every
one knows what is meant when we speak of a
person or a thing as a Knickerbocker." Abroad
it revealed to the critics that
American life was to have its
own literature. Scott read the
book aloud to his family. The
book still delights all who can
appreciate its delicate humor;
nowadays our taste in humor
is more highly spiced than it
was when "Knickerbocker"
appeared, but it is not purer.
The protests which a few de-
1'N scendants of the Dutch found-
ers of the city ventured to put
S forth were laughed aside, for
the public had taken the
joke and were unwilling to
have the fun spoiled. Yet it
is to be regretted that, in his
youth, Irving should have
echoed the British scoffs at the
Dutch. We are rarely fair to
S our rivals, and the Dutch had
Snot only taught the British ag-
riculture and commerce, but
they had swept the British
Channel with a broom at their
admiral's mast-head; and so
F. O. C. Darley,
the British disliked them.
Foremost in art, and in law, and in education,
the Dutch had exerted a most wholesome influ-
ence on American institutions -the chief of
which, our common-school system, was probably
derived from Holland.
Irving did not think of this when he made
fun of the Dutchmen of New Amsterdam, or
he did not know it. There was no malice in
his satire; but thoughtlessness sometimes hurts
as severely. When Irving wrote this, the least
worthy and the most popular of his books, the
inhabitants of New York did not yet number
one hundred thousand.
For ten years after the publication of Knick-
erbocker," Irving brought forth no new work.
He lingered and loitered and hesitated. He
went to Washington for a season, and he edited

* From Irvingiana, a memorial of Washington Irving published by Charles B. Richardson in 1860.




a magazine in Philadelphia. When the War
of 1812 broke out, he was stanchly patriotic,
although he deplored the war itself. After the
wanton destruction of the capitol at Washing-
ton by the British, he offered his services to
the governor of New York, and was appointed
aide and military secretary. In 1815, after peace
was proclaimed, he went over to England to
see his brother. Intending only a brief visit,
he was absent from home, as it happened, for
seventeen years.
In England and in Scotland he met the liter-
ary celebrities of the day, among them Camp-
bell and Scott. He saw Mrs. Siddons act, and

"The Sketch-Book" was a miscellany of
essays, sketches, and tales. As Irving wrote
to a friend, he had attempted no lofty theme,
nor sought to look wise and learned." "I
have preferred," he said, "addressing myself
to the feeling and fancy of the reader more
than to his judgment." The first number con-
tained the "Voyage to England" and "Rip
Van Winkle "; and its success was instant and
remarkable. As the following numbers ap-
peared, they began to be reprinted in British
periodicals; and so Irving, still detained in
England, gathered the first four numbers into
a volume and issued it in London. The series

4i^^~ k, 440 kS* <&/w,^ 4

i"44?* A"41 4.


-a4;Mjt a~j /.;G

This illustration, and the portrait at the beginning of the article, are used by kind permission of Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Miss O'Neil, and Edmund Kean. At last he extended to seven numbers in America, and on
turned again to literature, and the first number both sides of the Atlantic the. complete book
of"The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." was published in two volumes toward the end
was published in New York in 1819. of 1820. Thereafter, there was never any doubt
VOL. XXI.-8o.


iJ Git4!:

. 41otz



that Irving had a secure place in the history of
English and American literature.
The charm of the Sketch-Book is not dif-
ficult to define. Sunshine lights up every page,
and a cheerful kindliness glows upon them all.
From the Sketch-Book we must date the re-
vival of Christmas feasting, although, no doubt,
Irving was aided powerfully by Dickens, who
took the American as his model in more ways
than we are wont to remark. It is the Sketch-
Book" which has sent thousands of Americans
*across the Atlantic, passionate pilgrims to Strat-
ford, entranced wanderers through Westmin-
ster Abbey, and happy loiterers in the country
churchyards of England. Although in the
second number of the "Sketch-Book," Irving
warned "English Writers on America" that
their malicious reports were certain to cause ill-
will,-as, indeed, they have done,-no Ameri-
can ever felt more kindly toward England; and
when he died, Thackeray, calling him "the first
ambassador whom the New World of Letters
sent to the Old," praised him for his constant
good-will to the mother country.
Though Irving was stalwart in his Ameri-
canism always,-he refused, for example, to
write for the Quarterly Review, because it had
ever been a bitter enemy to America,-he had
a sincere liking for England, and a hearty ap-
preciation of its picturesque possibilities. This
was shown to advantage in his next book,
"Bracebridge Hall," published in 1822; and
it was seen even in the book that followed
this -the "Tales of a Traveler," published in
1824. These two collections may be described
not unfairly as continuations of the "Sketch-
Book," the former containing chiefly essays
and sketches, and the latter, short stories.
There is in all the libraries of England no
book more filled with the gentle spirit of
English country life than Bracebridge Hall ";
and' Irving himself never wrote a more deli-
cately humorous sketch than the Stout Gen-
tleman," in that volume.
In the history of the short story, one of the
most useful as it is one of the most popular
of literary forms, Irving holds a high place.
The Sketch-Book" owed much of its success
to "Rip Van Winkle" and the "Legend of
Sleepy Hollow "- tales of a kind till then un-

known in English literature; and "Dolph Hey-
liger," in "Bracebridge Hall," is a worthy third,
while "Guests from Gibbet Island" and "Wolf-
ert Weber," in the "Tales of a Traveler," are
not far behind. Considering their strength,
Irving's short stories have a singular simplicity;
they are slight in plot and simple in the char-
acter-drawing. He understood his own powers
clearly. I consider a story merely a frame on
which to stretch my materials," so he wrote to
a friend; "it is the play of thought, and senti-
ment, and language; the weaving in of char-
acters, lightly yet expressively delineated; the
familiar and faithful exhibition of scenes of
common life; and the half-concealed vein of
humor that is often playing through the whole;
these are among what I aim at." This is a fair
statement of the qualities which give charm to
"Rip Van Winkle" and its fellows. Little did
Irving foresee that these tales of his were but
the first-fruits of that abundant harvest, rich in
local flavor, which later American story-tellers
were to raise, each on his own half-acre. Haw-
thorne and Poe, Mr. Bret Harte and Mr. Cable,
are all followers in Irving's footsteps.
It was while Byron and Scott were the lead-
ers of English letters that Irving published the
"Sketch-Book," and made good his own title
to an honorable position in literature. By the
publication of Bracebridge Hall," and of the
"Tales of a Traveler," his footing became
firmer, no doubt; but he did not advance fur-
ther. Irving was in Spain in 1826, and there
he remained for more than three years,-the
most laborious and fruitful years of his life.
He had gone to Spain thinking to translate
Navarrete's collection of documents concerning
Columbus; but getting interested in the char-
acter and in the career of Columbus, he soon
settled down to the preparation of a biography
of his own. He took his task seriously; he
spared no pains in getting every date right and
every proper name exact; he rewrote as often
as he discovered new material. He knew that
a biography was not a work of fiction, to be
warped at the will of the writer, but rather
a monument to be built slowly out of actual
When the "Life of Columbus" appeared in
1828, it was seen at once that Irving had not





only the gift of the born story-teller, but also
the sterner virtues of the historian. To this
day, despite the storm of dispute which has
raged over every item of Columbus's career,
Irving's biography remains a valuable author-
ity. A most devoted student of the details
of Columbus's life has declared that Irving's
"is a history written with judgment and impar-
tiality, which leaves far behind it all descriptions
of the discovery of the New World published
before or since."
If to-day it were edited with notes embody-
ing the latest information, it would hold its
own against all new-comers. The reader sees
a completed painting, and not the raw mate-
rials out of which he is invited to make a pic-
ture for himself.
The Life of Columbus" was soon followed
by a book about The Companions of Colum-
bus," and by The Chronicle of the Conquest
of Granada," which Irving regarded as his best
work, and which Coleridge greeted as a mas-
terpiece of its kind. Just what its kind is, it
is not easy to declare, but perhaps it may be
described as a record of fact presented with the
freedom the author had used in writing fiction.
In the main, it is a true story, but it is as obe-
dient to the hands of the story-teller as though
he had made it up. The narrative is spirited,
the style is delightful, and there is a never-
ending play of sentiment and humor.
These are the qualities which grace yet an-
other Spanish book, The Alhambra," perhaps
the most fascinating of all Irving's writings.
"The Alhambra" is a medley of travel,
sketches, character-studies, and brief tales; it is
what Prescott called it: a Spanish "Sketch-
Book." The method of the author is the same
as in his Sketch-Book," only he has changed
the model who poses before him. "Brace-
bridge Hall" is not more English than "The
Alhambra" is Spanish. It is full of the sights
and the sounds of Spain; and there it is plea-
sant to gaze upon this reflection of Moorish
architecture and Iberian landscape and Spanish
character in the clear mirror held up to nature
by the genial New-Yorker.
"The Alhambra" was published in 1832,
and after an absence of seventeen years, Irving
returned to his native city. He found New

York wonderfully expanded; in the scant half-
century of his life, the twenty thousand popula-
tion had increased to two hundred thousand.
He was made heartily welcome, and his fellow-
citizens promptly bestowed on him the compli-
ment of a public dinner. From that day to his
death he was the acknowledged head of Ameri-
can letters. He bore his honors as easily as he
bore all things. He made a home for himself
in the village of Tarrytown, New York, on the
banks of the Hudson he loved, and near the
Sleepy Hollow he had celebrated. Here, in the
stone cottage of Sunnyside, he settled down,
enjoying the leisure which now and again he
varied by periods of hard labor.
Thus ten years passed away; and in 1842
Irving was making ready to write the life of
Washington, when he was surprised by the ap-
pointment of Minister to Spain. Daniel Web-
ster was then Secretary of State, and he knew
no American could be more welcome in Spain
than the biographer of Columbus. A foreign
appointment is almost the only honor a republic
can bestow upon its foremost authors; the first
of American men of letters, Benjamin Franklin,
had been Minister to France; and after Irving,
similar positions were to be held by Motley,
and Bancroft, and Lowell. Irving accepted the
appointment, and spent four years in Madrid,
with occasional visits to Paris and to London.
Then in 1846 he came home again, and settled
down at Sunnyside for the last thirteen years of
his happy life.
Among the labors of these later years were
the extending of an earlier and briefer biog-
raphy of Goldsmith, an account of Mahomet
and his contemporaries, and a volume of mis-
cellanies, called "Wolfert's Roost," and con-
taining sketches and stories like those in the
"Sketch-Book".and the Alhambra." Tarry-
town is-near New York, and Irving was a fre-
quent visitor to the city of his birth. Curtis
describes him as walking along Broadway with
his head slightly inclined to one side, the face
smoothly shaven," and the eyes "twink-
ling with kindly humor and shrewdness. There
was a chirping, cheery, old-school air in the
whole appearance.
Washington Irving was at that time perhaps
the best known of living Americans; and he


was then engaged on the biography of the best
known of all Americans alive or dead. The
first volume of Irving's life of Washington ap-
peared in 1855, and the work was completed in
1859. Irving was doubtful about its reception,
but it became instantly popular; it had a very
large sale, and it was lauded by his fellow-his-
torians. Bancroft praised the style, calling it
"masterly, clear, easy." Prescott wrote: "You
have done with Washington just as I thought
you would, and, instead of a cold marble
statue of a demigod, you have made him a be-
ing of flesh and blood, like ourselves- one with
whom we can have sympathy."
In the year in which the final volume of the
"Washington was published, Irving died at
Sunnyside -on November 28, 1859, being then
seventy-six years old. American men of letters
are a long-lived race; Franklin, Emerson, Bry-


ant, and Whittier lived to be older than Irving,
while Longfellow, Lowell, and Whitman were
only a little younger at their deaths. Like Ir-
ving they all died full of years and full of hon-
ors; they all had led happy lives.
No later American writer has surpassed him
in charm. Before Irving had discovered the
beauty of the Hudson, the river was as lovely
as it is to-day, but it was bare of legend. He
it was who peopled the green nooks of Sleepy
Hollow and the rocky crags of the Catskills.
His genius was not stalwart or rugged, and it
did not conquer admiration; it-won its way
softly, by the aid of sentiment and of humor.
"Knickerbocker's History," and the "Sketch-
Book," and the "Alhambra," are his titles to
fame; not the Columbus" or the "Washing-
ton." His greatest work is the Knickerbocker


By E. L. Sylvester.

Suppose- sup-p-o-s-e--
Well, just suppose
Some day my mother 'd say,
"You need n't.go to school, my
Just stay at home, and play.
And here 's a box of choc'late
(Or something quite as good).
"Eat all you want!"-oh, just
Suppose my mother should!


Through wood and street and
. .-'* c B. R. Fi F. NEB'.i<'.-


S open ground,
S Until, at last, he grabs its tail.
Then, when the lion makes a
-.-- And lifts his voice in sobs and
S The tears come in the good
king's eyes;
His sympathy is roused and so
He lets the poor old lion go,
And coming home, as you may see.
Sits down and takes his toast and tea.



.~."-:- Ci~



I ;I

i -----~--


the adjacent wharves came the soft washing
and whispering of the tide, with an occasional
rattle of oars as a boat came to land from one
of the many ships.
The density of the atmosphere in the office
was chiefly due to Al" Johnson, the diver,
who when he was not talking, diving, eating,
or sleeping, was sure to be puffing at his pipe.
We had talked little, but now I resolved to
turn off the smoke flowing from Johnson's
pipe, by getting him to tell us a story. He
could never tell a story and keep his pipe lit
at the same time.
Johnson was a college-bred man, whom a
love of adventure had lured into deep-sea div-
ing. He and his partner were at this time en-
gaged in recovering the cargo of the steamer
"Oelrich," sunk near the entrance to Halifax
So I asked Johnson, "Do you remember
promising me a yar about an adventure you
had in the pearl-fisheries ?"
"Which adventure-and what pearl-fish-
eries ?" Johnson asked. I 've fished at Tin-
nevelli, and in the Sulu waters off the Borneo
coast, and also in the Torres Strait; and where-

IN the tiny office
of the Cunarder"
i 'MN inn the air was thick
with smoke. The
S white egg-shaped
S stove contained a
fire, though Septem-
ber was yet young;
for a raw night fog
had rolled in over
Halifax, mak-
ing the display
of bright coals
no less com-
forting than

soever it was, there seemed to be pretty nearly
always some excitement going."
"Oh," said I, "whichever you like to give
us. I think what you spoke of was an adven-
ture in the Torres Strait."
No," said Johnson, "I think I '11 give you
a little yar about a tussle I had with a turtle
in the Sulu waters. I fancy there is n't much
that grows, but you '11 find it somewhere in
Borneo; and the water there is just as full of
life as the land."
"Sharks ?" I queried.
"Oh, worse than sharks !" replied Johnson.
"There 's a big squid that will squirt the water
black as ink-and just then, perhaps, some-
thing comes along and grabs you when you
can't defend yourself. And there 's the devil-
fish, own cousin to the squid, and the meanest
enemy you 'd want to run across anywhere.
And there 's a tremendous giant of a shell-
fish--a kind of scalloped clam, that lies with
its huge shells wide open, but half hidden in
the long weeds and sea-mosses. If you put
your foot into that trap,-snap it closes on
you, and you 're fast! That clam is a good
deal stronger than you are, and if you have not
a hatchet or something to smash the shell with,
you are likely to stay there. Of course, your
partner in the boat up aloft would soon know
something was wrong, finding that he could n't
haul you up. Then he would go down after
you and chop you loose, perhaps. But mean-
while it would be far from nice, especially if
a shark came along- if another clam does not
nab him, for one of these big clams has been
known to catch even a shark. Many natives
thereabouts do a lot of diving on their own
account, and, of course, don't indulge in div-
ing-suits. I can tell you, they are very careful
not to fall afoul of those clam-shells; for when
they do, they 're drowned before they can get


"You can hardly blame the clam, or what- the top of the water or on dry land would in
ever it is," said I. It must be rather a shock most cases prove as timid as rabbits. And
to its nerves when it feels a big foot thrust then, as you say, there are the sharks-all
down right upon its stomach!" kinds, big and little, forever hungry, but' not
"No," assented Johnson, "you can't blame half so courageous as they get the credit of
the clam. But besides the clam, there is a being."
big turtle that is a most officious creature, with I suppose," I interrupted, you always car-
a beak that will almost cut railroad iron. It is ried a weapon of some sort!"
forever poking that beak into whatever it thinks "Well, rather! said Johnson. For my own
part, I took a great fancy
to the ironwood stakes that
the natives always use. But
they did n't seem to me
quite the thing for smash-
ing those big shells with,
supposing a fellow should
happen to put his foot into
one. So I made myself a
stake with a steel top, which
answered every purpose.
More than one big shark
have I settled with that
handspike of mine; and
once I found, to my great
advantage, that it was just
the thing to break up a
shell with."
Ha, ha !" laughed Best,
who had been listening
rather inattentively hither-
to. "So you put your foot
in it, did you?"
"Yes, I did," said John
son. "And that is just what
I'm going to tell you about.
I was working that season
with a good partner, a likely
young fellow hailing from
Auckland. He tended the
line and the pump to my
complete satisfaction. I 've
never had a better tender.
Also, I was teaching him
to dive, and he took to it
like a loon. His name was
'Larry' Scott; and if he had
it does n't know all about; and you cannot lived, he would have made a record. He was
scare it, as you can a shark. You have sim- killed about a year after the time I 'm telling
ply got to kill it before it will acknowledge you of, in a row down in New Orleans. But
itself beaten. These same turtles, however, at we won't stop to talk about that now.


"As I was saying, Larry and I pulled to- rather uncomfortable. After I had pretty well
gether pretty well from the start, and we were tired myself out, stretching and tugging on my
so lucky with our fishing that the fellows in leg, and struggling to reach the handspike, I
the other boats began to get jealous and un- paused to recover my wind and consider the
pleasant. You must know that all kinds go situation.
to the pearl-fisheries; and the worst kinds have It was not very deep water I was working
rather the best of it, in point of numbers. We in, and there was any amount of light. You
were ready enough to fight, but we liked best have no sort of idea, until you have been there
to go our own way peaceably. So, when some yourself, what a queer world it is down where
of the other lads got quarrelsome, we just the pearl-oyster grows. The seaweeds were all
smiled, hoisted our sail, and looked up a new sorts of colors,-or rather, I should say, they
ground for ourselves some little distance from were all sorts of reds and yellows and greens.
the rest of the fleet. Luck being on our side The rest of the colors of the rainbow you might
just then, we chanced upon one of the finest find in the shells which lay around under foot
beds in the whole neighborhood. or went crawling among the weeds; and away
"One morning, as I was poking about among overhead darted and flashed the queerest look-
the seaweed and stuff, I came across a fine- ing fish, like birds in a yellow sky. There were
looking bunch of pearl-shells. I made
a grab at them, but they were firmly
rooted and refused to come away. I
laid down my handspike, took hold of
the cluster with both hands, and shifted
my foothold so as to get a good chance
to pull.
"Up came the bunch of shells at the
first wrench, much more readily than I
had expected. To recover myself I took
a step backward; down went my foot
into a crevice, 'slumped' into some-
thing soft, and snap my leg was fast in
a grip that almost made me yell, there
in the little prison of my helmet.
"Well, as you may imagine, just as
soon as I recovered from the start this
gave me, I reached out for my hand-
spike to knock that clam-shell into
flinders. But a cold shiver went over
me as I found I could not reach the
weapon! As I laid it down it had
slipped a little off to one side, and there
it rested about a foot out of my reach,
reclining on one of those twisted conch-
shells such as the farmers use for dinner- -
"How I jerked on my leg, trying to
pull it out of the trap i That, however,
only hurt the leg. All the satisfaction I
could get was in the thought that my
foot, with its big, twenty-pound rubber-and-lead lots of big anemones, too, waving, stretching,
boot, must be making the clam's internal affairs and curling their many-colored tentacles.

640 '




"I saw everything with extraordinary vivid-
ness about that time, as I know by the clear
way I recollect it now; but you may be sure I
was n't thinking much just then about the
beauties of nature. I was trying to think of
some way of getting assistance from Larry. At
length I concluded I had better give him the
signal to haul me up. Finding that I was stuck,
he would, I reasoned, hoist the anchor, and then
pull the boat along to the place of my cap-
tivity. Then he could easily send me down a
hatchet wherewith to chop my way to freedom.
"Just as I had come to this resolve, a black
shadow passed over my head, and I looked up
quickly. It was a big turtle. I did n't like
this, I can tell you; but I kept perfectly still,
hoping the new-comer would not notice me.
"He paddled along very slowly, with his
queer little head stuck far out, and presently
he noticed my air-tube. It seemed to strike
him as decidedly queer. My blood fairly turned
to ice in my veins, as I saw him paddle up and
take a hold of it in a gingerly fashion with his
beak. Luckily, he did n't seem to think it
would be good to eat; but I knew that if he
should bite it, I would be a dead man in about
a minute, drowned inside my helmet like a rat
in a hole. It is in an emergency like this that
a man learns to know what real terror is.
In my desperation I stooped down and
tore with both hands at the shells and weeds for
something I might hurl at the turtle--thinking
thus perhaps to distract his attention from my
air-tube. But what do you suppose happened?
Why, I succeeded in pulling up a great lump
of shells and stones all bedded together. The
mass was fully two feet long. My heart gave a
leap of exultation, for I knew at once just what
to do with the instrument thus providentially
placed in my hands. Instead of trying to hurl
it at the turtle, I reached out with it, and
managed to scrape that precious handspike
within grasp. As I gathered it once more into
my grip I straightened up and was a man again.
"Just at this juncture the turtle decided to
take a hand in. I had given the signal to be
hauled up, at the very moment when I got
hold of that lump of stones; and now I could
feel Larry tugging energetically on the rope.
The turtle left off fooling with the tube, and
VOL. XXI.-81-82.

paddling down to see what was making such
a commotion in the water, he tackled me at
"As it happened, however, he took hold of
the big copper nut on the top of the head-piece;
and that was too tough a morsel even for his
beak, so all he could do was to shake me a bit.
With him at my head and the clam on my leg,
and Larry jerking on my waist-band, you may
imagine I could hardly call my soul my own.
However, I began jabbing my handspike, for
all I was worth, into the unprotected parts of
the turtle's body, feeling around for some vital
spot,-which is a thing mighty hard to find in
a turtle! In a moment the water was red with
blood; but that made no great difference to
me, and for a while it did n't seem to make
much difference to the turtle, either. All I
could do was to keep on jabbing, as close to the
neck as I could, and between the front flippers.
And the turtle kept on chewing at the copper
"I believe it was the clam that helped me
most effectually in that struggle. You see, that
grip on my leg kept me as steady as a rock.
If it had n't been for that, the turtle would have
had me off my feet and end over end in no
time, and would probably have soon got the
best of me. As it was, after a few minutes of
this desperate stabbing with the handspike, I
managed to kill my assailant; but even in death
that iron beak of his maintained its hold on the
copper nut of my helmet. Having no means of
cutting the brute's head off, I turned my atten-
tion to the big clam, and with the steel point of
my handspike I soon released my foot.
"Then Larry hauled me up. He told me
afterward he never in all his life got such a
start as when that great turtle came to the sur-
face hanging on to the top of my helmet. The
creature was so heavy he could not haul it and
me together into the boat; so he slashed the
head off with a hatchet, and then lifted me
aboard. Beyond a black-and-blue leg I was n't
much the worse for that adventure; but I was
so used up with the excitement of it all that I
wduld n't go down again for any more pearls
that day. We took a day off, Larry and I,
and indulged ourselves in a little run ashore."
"You had earned it," said I.




LITTLE seed lay in the ground,
And soon began to sprout;
"Now which of all the flowers around,"
It mused, "shall I come out?

"The lily's face is fair ,--
and proud,
But just a trifle cold;
The rose, I think, is rather loud,
And then, its fashion's old.

The violet is ery well,
But not a flower I 'd choose;
Nor yet the canterbury-bell,-
I never cared for blues.



"Petunias are by far too bright, The primrose only blooms at night,
And vulgar flowers beside; And peonies spread too wide."

And so it criticized each flower,
This supercilious seed;
Until it woke one summer hour,
And found itself a weed.f



HERE is May, sweet May,-all love her !
Scatter apple-blooms above her!
Joyous May! She gives a nest
To the waiting yellowbreast.
Wheresoe'er her footsteps pass
Blue-eyed blossoms deck the grass.

At her voice, the woodlands ring
With the music of the spring.
Fast the brooklet runs to meet her,
Leafy sprigs bend down to greet her.
Listen now!-She comes this way.
Bud and blossom! 'T is the May!





_ESTER stood on the
long veranda of hei
father's cabin, and
watched the Doctor's
horse coming swiftly
across the sage-brush.
_./ First she saw a spurl
of dust rise, where the
plain dips toward the
green river-valley. It grew and lengthened
and unrolled enormously, like the smoke from
the brazen jar when the fisherman unsealed
it and set free the threatening genie. Soor
the carriage was in sight; it passed beneath
the hill; then two black ears of a horse',
head appeared, where the steep road cuts intc
the hill. Hetty thought: How glad Mothel
will be; and what a good horse, to come sc
fast on such a hot, breezeless morning!"
The Doctor hitched his horse in the shadow
of the long, low house: for all around was sun
and dust- dust blowing loose or beaten hard
not a tree was in sight, though the view ex
tended for miles; and the stable was below thc
hill, nearer to the well.
Mr. Croly had placed his house on the high
est part of his land, for the sake of the breez(
and the view, that the family might hav
something to look at while they were waiting
for the "ditch." He was a desert settler, anc
some persons called a "company" were build
ing an irrigation ditch to bring water from th(
river. The company intended to sell the wate
to the settlers, who were obliged to have it
and to swear to it, before the Governmen
would give them titles to their lands; and a
they were all very uncomfortable in their hot
unshaded cabins, on the bare and thirsty land
the settlers were impatient and felt they hac
waited a long time.
It would not be easy to explain why al

these people had come, in quest of homes, to
a country where rain ceases for six or eight
months of the year; where water for crops must
Sbe purchased, like wood and coal-when there
Share green fair lands, wanting hands to till them,
Where rain is abundant, and rivers and woods
show what rain can do to beautify our world.
. But some of these desert settlers had suffered
t in other ways than through lack of water:
Some of them had suffered from too much water
That had come in floods, and drowned them out,
I and swept away all that they had; some had
been grasshopper sufferers "; some had come
I to escape "the chills." Most of them had
i been unfortunate in one way or another; and
I many were merely restless men who never
s stayed in any place, but tried all climates and
ways of getting a living, always hoping to find
r a way of getting one without working for it.
SBut the best of them were, like Hester's father,
men to whom difficulties have a certain attrac-
r tion; strong, hopeful men of their hands, with
1 courage to conquer a home out of the desolate
; waste places; men who lived to work, and to
- feel that where they had lived and worked that
e country was the better for their living.
David Croly had said it so often that his lit-
- tle daughter Hetty had the words almost by
e .heart:
e "If I can leave behind me six hundred and
g forty acres of good, kind land, where I found
i six hundred and forty acres of bitter sage-brush
- desert, I shall feel I have done something like
Sa man's work: whether there 's a fortune in it
r or not."
The Doctor asked Hetty who was sick at the
t house, and where her mother was. And, in
s answer to her shy question, he told her, with
, a smile, that the name of his new horse was
, "Lady."
d She was a beauty as well as a lady. She
was no cayuse, nor mustang, nor scraggy Texan
I pony; she had come from a "grass country."



She was kind and graceful and intelligent, as a
thoroughbred should be. Though she panted,
and her sides and neck were glossy with sweat,
she was yet polite. She permitted Hetty to
stroke her straight nose, and to part the thin
forelock away from her large, bright eyes, with-
out one impatient toss.
Hetty considered with herself as a hostess:
"What can I do by way of pleasing this beau-
tiful dear, while her master is caring for little
sick sister Martha?"
It would not do to offer her water; Hetty
was horsewoman enough to know that every
good master attends to that himself. She would
have liked to comfort her with sugar; but the
"square sugar" was kept in the dining-room cup-
board, and little girls were not allowed to help
themselves, and mother must not be disturbed.
Then Hetty thought of a treat of her own:
the sweet, dry clover-heads she had culled from
the hay, for her dolls' horses, only the day be-
fore. She ran to the red closet at the end of the
piazza, which was the dolls' house.
The dolls lived on the shelf-rooms, the first
and second and third "floors," or shelves, and
the stable was in the basement, or bottom of
the closet. Here stood the dolls' horses, with
the clover still in their mangers. "Prince" and
"Proudie" were their names: Prince, because
he came first and was the prince of horses;
Proudie, because he held his head so grandly,
like a charger in pictures of battles.
Whoa! Hetty called to them, in her deep-
est voice. Neither of the dolls' horses was mak-
ing the least disturbance, but the warning was
a sensible precaution of Hetty's, since she had
come to rob their mangers.
"You shall have plenty more to-night," she
said, "and horses must not be always eating."
With that she carried away all their clover,-
nearly a double handful,-and Lady ate it, out
of Hetty's pink apron.
The noble mare was just as gracious and friend-
ly as if she had been served by Hetty all her life.
She nuzzled and breathed great breaths in the
hollow of the apron; and Hetty had hard work,
laughing so, to hold fast while that dear creature
bumped about in its strong, careless, horsy way.
Some crushed bits of the dry blossom fell into
the dust, but Lady had gotten the most of it.

Then the Doctor came out, and Hetty's
mother was with him, looking worried, as she
often did.
The Doctor was saying some words about
" a change."
Can't you send her East," he said, amongst
your relatives, somewhere? "
Our relatives are two thousand miles away,
the nearest ones; and how could she go-a
child of that age! No, if she goes, it means
that we all go; or it means that I go with the
children and leave my husband."
"That, of course, is for you to decide. I
dare say it is hard. But she has had tonics
enough. Take her to a grass country. That
is my advice."
The mother sighed: "This will be a grass
country in another year, we hope. They have
promised the water next spring. If we can
hold out till then, Doctor, the 'change' will
come to us."
"Have n't you heard-" the Doctor began;
and then he stopped, and his face looked
"sorry," Hetty thought.
Hester joyfully told little Martha how Lady
had eaten up all the dolls' horses' clover; and
both little girls laughed to think how Lady's
nose went bobbing into the pink apron; and
Hetty showed the damp smears that were left
from that free and easy luncheon.
Martha was not ill abed, but she had fever
in the afternoons, and she would not eat. A
very little play tired her, and then she would
fling herself down and cry for something dif-
ferent- something she could not have. And
she was thin and dark, and when her lips
parted a dry shriveled line showed inside the
red. Any little thing that was new pleased her.
That afternoon, Hetty's father brought a load
of clean white sand from the river-beach, and
spread it down, in a long strip, in front of the
veranda where the house-shadow lay. He
dampened it down with water from the well,
and spread more sand and dampened that down.
Bynext morning it was dry and hard; the wind
could not blow it away; and by the time the
shadow again lay over it, the children's beach
was ready. They called it the South Shore."
It looks rather small, to us," Hetty ad-
mitted; "but the dolls must think it grand.


It must be the 'Great South Shore' to them.
And now we can lie down anywhere, and not
mind about our stockings and petticoats."
Mother was as pleased as the children; for
indeed the stockings and petticoats had been
dreadful. And little Martha's face cleared like
sunshine, as she patted the cool white sand.
It is so clean!" she cried. She was a
dainty, fastidious child, born with a full-grown
woman's loathing of "matter out of place."

While the novelty lasted, and while the sand
was pure and hard, the South Shore was al-
most as good as a change for the little ner-
vous invalid. The children dug holes in it, and
filled them with water, and called them wells.
They planted sprigs of sage for orchards, and

watered them from the wells; and they made
roads and ditches, all in the hard-baked sand.
But, after a week or so, the digging and trotting
broke up the fair surface of the beach, and
there was no tide to rise and spread fresh sand
upon it. Instead, the wind-storms came, charg-
ing up the dry slopes, and strewed the dust of the
plains over the South Shore, and it was buried.
But something came of it, after it had been
quite given up-something that had not been
looked for.
.On.: m.i.rnmii Hetty was out before breakfast,
k:.Lnir; over the wooden parapet of the ve-
r.lrnJ., l:. :klnL tir one of the doll's tea-cups
\hi:ii slhic 1hii dropped, just at bedtime, the
McllnllL bcl'-r: .
She listed ar!-i stared, and thought she must
L-r dreminiliig; fo:r. of all things in the world to
liauec :on-c on such a spot! she saw-not the
tea-:iup. buti the tender, close-folded points
ol a clusitr of green baby-clovers prick-
.n hi, through the crusted sand, where
Sthe Lst contrary wind had swept
.: it bare. Positively, the ground
1, \' cracked and upheaved by
'i, the force of their gentle coming!
The clovers grew and throve,
S- here no hand had planted, in
thwe very footprints of the chil-
dreni's happy play; as if their
Sr ming, had been real farm-
ing, and the play-ditches had
done their work. Morning
and evening, Hetty water-
-' ed her crop, and forgot
that it was here she had
.... -? fed the Doctor's Lady.
She did not remember, nor
would she have been the
happier for knowing, that
she had sowed the seed
Somehow, without tak-
ing her into its confi-
dence, there arrived a four-leaved clover in the
midst of the parent bunch. It was full grown
when Hetty saw it first., One leaf was a trifle
smaller than the others, but they were a perfect
four; and Hetty believed it had come as a
promise and a token of success to her father's





claim. But she kept the secret of her luck-crop
from Martha till the morning of her sister's
On that day, while Martha still lay sleeping,
Hetty gathered her entire harvest while it was
yet green, leaf by leaf, and placed it all in a
clear glass of water where Martha could see it
when she woke: the gallant four-leaved one
was in the center, with the longest stem of
them all.
Martha had no other birthday bouquet, but
she was quite satisfied. She was happy for
hours, taking her clovers out, one by one, and
putting them back again in the glass; some-
times she piled them in a stack and set the
Noah's ark animals round about it, and
played--at Hetty's suggestion--that it was
the first grass they had seen since they were
set free from the gloomy ark. She studied the
pretty leaves, gazing into their little round
faces, printed, toward the stem, with that mys-
terious heart-shaped pattern penciled in white
across the center fold. Clover-leaves are as
rare as nightingales, on a desert claim; and
Martha could remember no other home.
By night, all the fairy luck-crop was withered,
from overmuch handling by those hot, eager
little hands; but the mother had saved the four-
leaved clover and pressed it in the big Bible,
between the leaves of the family record, over
against the children's names and the dates of
their births.
Hetty was an observing child: she noticed
that in these days of the latter end of summer
her father and mother seemed much dispirited.
Happy plans, that had been talked of in the
spring, were talked of no more: such as tree-
planting and ditch-building and laying out of
roads. No more was said about crops or
ditches. Her mother's face was sad as she
sat writing those long "home letters" to their
friends in the East; and father stayed about the
house and seemed to have little to do; and both
parents talked together in their bedroom, at
night, or in the early morning, and sometimes
Hetty, waking, heard the murmur of their
voices, and knew by the sound that those were
not happy talks.
"Are they so anxious about Martha?" Hetty
wondered. And sitting up in bed she gazed at

her sister, where she lay, sleeping heavily in the
strong, white light. The flies were troubling her
rest, and Hetty set herself to keep them away,
while she watched the pale little sleeper. She
noted the vein in the side of her small, sal-
low neck-how fast it beat; and she thought:
" Martha must be wasting away. She must be
going to die."
The thought came as a great shock to Hetty.
It took all her strength to stifle the sound of her
sudden, uncontrollable sobbing. But she asked
no questions. "They will tell me when the time
comes," she thought; "and Mother must dread
to tell me." Hetty was, as her mother often
said, "a born eldest daughter,"-born to take
thought for others and to suppress herself: a
little vice-mother, with a pathetic, childish igno-
rance added to perplex her early maternal cares.
Many a mother blesses in her prayers such a
little "eldest" as Hetty.
She tried, now, to awake every morning early,
to keep the flies away from Martha, who could
not bear the stifling net, and who tossed all the
early part of the night and needed to sleep late;
and she set her mind at work to invent plays
and stories that should make Martha forget how
long were the hot summer days, with the dry
dust-winds blowing, and the sky one wide, pale,
pitiless glare.
The family were on the piazza one evening
in the red dusk after sunset; but the breeze
held off. The mother was rocking Martha, who
lay across her lap-a slender child, with long
limbs and large, weary eyes. She was in her
night-dress, for it was past her bedtime, but she
could not sleep for the heat.
Hetty sat on the low step and watched
a most remarkable display of dust-streamers
lengthening in the valley. A procession of
heavy wagons was moving out toward the rail-
road. By the long string of black dots ahead
of them, and by the height and hooded shape
of the great wagons, Hetty knew them for
"freighters"; but it was a good while since
she had seen so many mule-teams on the
road, all traveling the same way.
"There they go," said her father; "and I
wish they were heading the other way."
"Who are they? Hetty inquired.
The contractors' outfits, from the Big Ditch."


"Where are they going ? quarreling amongst themselves as to whose fault
"Moving out of the country. The Big Ditch it is, and they can't keep their promises to the
has shut down." settlers-not this year. And as this is our last
"What did you say, Father?" cried Hetty. year on this land, unless we get the water, it
"Does that mean they are n't going to build it concerns us a good deal.'"
after all? Our last year !" cried Hetty. Is n't this
Hetty knew quite well what such a catastro- our land, then ? "
phe as that would mean. "Not unless we can carry out our sworn in-
"Some day, perhaps, when they get ready." tention to bring water upon it within three

-s- I

I'- 1r ,- ': ,* ,1 : ,,. ,ll

Why don't you tell her, Father, now you 've
begun, and not keep her guessing?" Mrs.
Croly remonstrated. She began hushing little
Martha, who was trying to sit up, the better to
listen to the talk.
"All we know, Daughter, is that the com-
pany's money has given out again, and they are

years from the time we took it up. The three
years will be up in May. And the water will
not be here."
"And then what shall we do?" asked Hetty.
That's as Mother says," Mr. Croly answered;
and he looked at his wife, who sat silent.
"Your mother has the right to file on this
claim and hold it another three years, after my
right expires. But she is tired of waiting for




"I am tired of waiting for no water," said
Mrs. Croly. "And we cannot wait, because the
Doctor says it is making little Martha sick."
She spoke to Hetty, and then she looked at
her husband and said: "I wonder you can ask
me! You heard what he said."
I heard, but I don't believe a word of it.
A doctor always lays it to the climate when he
is puzzled by a case. Look at Hetty, there.
Why is n't she sick? Mother, it is all nonsense!
I can show you children by the dozen, running
about in the sage-brush-born and raised in
it-as healthy as jack-rabbits. It 's a new
idea to me that sun, and pure air, and earth as
new as it can be, are n't wholesome."
"I could wait," said Mrs. Croly, "if Martha
seemed like herself, or if there was any sure
prospect of our getting the water. But I will
never believe any of this company's promises
again. They have promised and promised,
year after year, and every one who has trusted
them has lost by them. This year the water
was coming, sure-and where is it? Now, I
say, it is time we took these children back to
' God's country.' I don't believe in a country
made by a company."
Why, Mother, you don't seem to count my
work as anything, nor the land and the climate.
We are not beholden to a company for them-
nor the choice of the land. There is n't such
another tract between here and Salt Lake!
I do hate to lose it. I think it's all a notion
about little Martha. Wait till it's cooler. You
will see; she will pick up all right. Hot wea-
ther is hot weather, go where you will; and lit-
tle children pine with it, right in the woods
and by the sea-shore. You 're sick yourself,
Mother, and I don't wonder; but wait till it's
"Yes, wait till we dry up and blow away,
like the wild seeds, anywhere the wind will let
us lie! No, Father; I want a home. If it 's
ever so small, I want it sure. And I want to
see my children playing on the grass again, with
green boughs over their heads. If there is a
thing we can call our birthright, in this world,
surely it is the grass and trees. We have no
right to defraud our children, and keep them
here, in the dust and glare, with the hot winds
drying up their blood, and the sun scorching

their faces till you 'd never know what race
they belong to-just for the sake of some day,
if the company 's willing, calling a great, big,
lonesome tract of land our own."
"Lonesome!" echoed Mr. Croly, who was
an enthusiast, and had now been attacked on
a vital point of his faith. I guess the plains
around Denver were lonesome, in 1880; and it
was n't two years before the city marched
right out and over 'em, and you can't buy an
acre of that sage-brush now for the price of
a whole farm in the valley of the Hudson."
"Yes, yes; I 've heard it all," said the mo-
ther. But those fortunes people have to pay
for. It is n't meant we should get something
for nothing in this world. And I 'm not will-
ing to risk this child's life-no, nor a year of
her life, wasted in sickness -for any fortune that
ever was named."
"Well, then, I don't see but we must go our
separate ways, Mother, for the children's sake,"
said Mr. Croly. "I am not willing to throw
away my work and my waiting: that belongs
to the children, too; and some day they will
thank me. I shall stay, and if I can't prove
up on this land, I '11 work till I can afford to
buy some other man's title. There will be
plenty of discouraged ones, like you, who will
want to get out of the country-soon as the
news gets round the Ditch crowd is getting
ready to lie down. I 've looked at a good
many countries, and this looks to me the best
of any, and I 'm going to stay right with it till
the water comes. If one company can't fetch
it, another will. But you can take that money
I laid by to prove up with, and go back with
the children to Genesee, if so be you think
you must. But I guess you '11 find it some
hot, even there."
Hetty's tears were falling by this time, and
her mother had hidden her face, and was pat-
ting Martha nervously, with her thin hand on
which the veins showed so plainly.
Hetty understood it all, as a woman might:
she sympathized with her mother, and knew
how she must feel about Martha; she agreed
with her father, too, and in her young hopeful-
ness she believed in the country of his choice.
She wondered if her mother knew how happy
they-the children-had been on that land



which was called a desert. Hetty loved the
great bare mesa, with the winds blowing over
it and the whole of the sky above it. She
could not tell it in words, but she felt the joy
of those clear, spring mornings, when the moun-
tains piled in turquoise blue against the far
bright north; she felt the rich sadness of the
deep-colored summer twilights, and the mys-
tery of the wide, dark, starlight nights when
the farthest land looked like an unknown sea.
Martha was too young, perhaps, to care about
skies and mountains, or to know that she cared;
but Martha had been happy as a bird, that
spring, when the sage-brush bonfires were blaz-
ing all over the hill, and they ran from one
to another, dancing the "fire-dance," as they
called it-fanning them with boughs and beat-
ing out the scattering flames. And did Mother
know what a pleasure it was to hunt strange
wild-flowers, and to give them names, and
wonder what manner of flower each new bud
would become, as if the world were new and
they its child-discoverers? Hetty had named
the desert-flowers, and marked the place of
each, that she might know it when its blossoms
and leaves were withered. She had gathered
the seeds and dug the bulbs with infinite labor
and pains, that she might plant them all, in
a wild garden of her own, when the plow
should have uprooted them from their native
homes; and she had counted on surprising
then with such a bounty of water as these
children of the desert had never known before.
She was a hospitable child, and hospitality
is the first law of all desert-dwellers.
Hetty had never found it lonesome in the
desert. Did Mother know how many little
creatures lived there- in holes and nests and
burrows, making shy, winding roads through
the pygmy sage-forest to their "claims"? Hetty
knew their tiny footprints, in the dust or in the

snow; she knew their notes and cries and calls,
and had a fellowship with them all,-even with
the outlawed coyotes, who yelled at night like a
pack of crazy dogs. And down the line of her
father's wire fence, morning and evening, came
a band of range-horses on their way to the
river to drink. They had been used to travel
across her father's land to water, but now the
fence obliged them to go a far way round.
Hetty used to apologize to them for this en-
croachment on their liberties, when she fore-
gathered with them at the fence. She knew all
the mothers, and delighted in the long-tailed
colts, and they knew her little figure in bright
colors by the fence.
Why, then, was this not God's country,
even though the grass withered and the flowers
faded because, the sun's eye was so bright?
Hetty did not shrink from the sunshine.
But there was little Martha, who needed the
shade. Mother and the Doctor must know
best about Martha. Surely they must know.
If but the water could be made to come! She
thought of the stories in the Bible, and wished
that they had been of the "chosen people,"
that water might be sent them by a special act:
whereas, they were left to the mercies of a com-
pany, whose money was always giving out.
She prayed that night a prayer which she felt
to be foolish, perhaps wrong, since God could
not need reminding; but it came from the heart
with one long, stifled ache, in whispers that no
one heard:
Would God but please to give them water,
and let the grass grow; that Martha might be
well; that they might stay upon the land her
father had chosen, and not be parted, east and
west, father here and mother there?
We shall see what happened before the fifth
of May, which was the date on which her fa-
ther's time expired.

(To be continued.)


"I WISH you 'd be more careful, dear,"
Euphemia heard her mother say;
"I put a nice clean blotter here
Day before yesterday."

Euphemia was a naughty child;
She saw the blots, she tossed her head;
And then she actually smiled,
And this is what she said:

"The blotter 's there for folks to blot;
I have n't stained the desk at all!
And each one 's such a little spot--
You see they 're very small!"

That night Euphemia dreamed a dream:
She wandered through secluded spots,
And then (her mother heard her scream),
She met a Mob of Blots.

They grinned, they leered, they winked, they
The fattest of them wagged his ears,
And said: "Just look at that small child!
She made you all, my dears!"

This was too much, and with a scream
She woke. For days she never smiled.
And since the dreaming of that dream,
She is the neatest child!







," Of e'dar, spruce, and pine
S nd ships re built along le co st h / /
Hurrah lfr the: Uniteda States! I in
A nd each link in the-,chain:
A let our :.[ors v;here begia
the norr hst atb le.
ith o il' Sont of.e 1" ti' n

I k7
'. -- -,,,,:II

Saisenhas the. er, fnest trees
Of cedar, spruce, and pine; '
And ships are built along hrzoas
k. ....... _' ,, -q ho
a on the brineI. s

So .iethousands of he 'eople go
3"A-Iishing in eth sa...
: ,- "'They-catch enough to use"at oe,
Aii some for you and'ibm.

peasant isle has she
er quiet bays,
re people come:from other States
To spend the. summer days.

C Copyright, 1894, by GARRETT NEWKIRK. All rights reserved.



,I n "Ir.

.'" Ir

S. W / HITE J .
E s'~l i

NOTE. -The State of Maine in shape resembles a drum-major's cap; and the State of New Hampshire
is, in form, not unlike the head of a tomahawk. For the rhyme about New Hampshire see next page.
TNR^ '

_^^____ is n0 '1^ st^ f-e~sae'eebe adu-ao' a n teSaeo e aphr
is f r o u lk t ehe d of a t ma a k. F r h r y e ab u N w H a p h re s e e t a e



~'~ e .ra.ite ,e." ,,-irp pi-t, ed north,

-,, .l ,". r -, ,,,is u Ih eir t,, .


I-" n'iri- L E i hit
11I:1 1 i Eli -rI*. ipt r e ir [..
So ni-.i ir -lk s t i, :n bri]Lit.

v v-.
-The air is sweet, the nights are cool,
The people treat you well.
Six thousand feet Mount Washington
Stand, higher than i ea, c.
i,. 'I .a r '\rWA d fri t rn h' th ,:'p a w',n-Jlrui- tenI
I. I"- .. l e ,a_ in rhree.7

A lar'.e 3h'm )unL't .-. ,-r niw' ':t. e,
.A" .-i ,. ,lor b or. ir. l, i e.

I, t.ikejr from i .-ie qu.arr.- lierc

T i '

M u.:1 e .- .vr.ur.e th. :4. I d .. .r..: -.



IT lay for a long time on the edge of the
little brook, deep in the forest, sparkling like a
tiny flame in the sunlight, and growing still
in the dusk like the bright eye of some fairy
hidden in the grass.
One day, when a very bright sunbeam danced
to and fro across it, the tortoise stopped to look
curiously at it. He was a slow fellow at his
best, and lingered so long that Bunny stopped,
too, to see what it could be; and the squirrel
from the fence-rail gave up scolding at the
crows to ask them what was to be seen. The
crows themselves are famous for chattering, so
in less time than I can tell it, they had spread
the news to all the forest-creatures.
"It 's not good to eat," said the tortoise;
"for I tasted it, and it's hard and cold."
"You cannot bite it, anyway," said Bunny.
"I would much rather have a carrot."
If it were a nut it would have a shell," said
the squirrel; "but I see it is not that."
It might be a new kind of corn," said the
crows, and one of them flew down to peck
at it.
Pshaw! said he, it is harder than a stone,
and nothing like a kernel of corn; we can do
nothing with it!"
It is certainly very pretty," said the robin;
"but I could not make a nest of it, and I for
one would much rather have a cherry."
Perhaps the owl can tell us what it is,"

meekly suggested the mole; I found it under
the soil when I was digging out my burrow."
So the squirrel was sent to waken the owl,
who sat dozing in his home in the hollow tree.
Down he came, stumbling, blinking sleepily,
and yawning.
"Here is something-" said Bunny. "Yel-
low!" put in the crows all together. "Hard,"
said the tortoise. Very bright and shiny," said
the squirrel. And no use to any one of us,"
said the mole. "What is it ? "
Don't all talk at once," yawned the owl.
"What a stupid set you are! I know what
it is; gold!"
Just then a footstep rustled the dry leaves,
and all the forest-folk scampered away to hide.
Peeping out they saw a man walking slowly
along the brook. Just then his eye fell on the
glittering little ball; and crying out for joy he
seized it eagerly, turned it over and over in the
sunlight, and after hiding it carefully in his
breast hurried away.
"Well, I never! chattered the squirrel, run-
ning from his hiding-place in the oak-tree.
"He seemed to know what to do with it!"
And all the crows fluttered away to tell of
the strange treasure found by the brook.
"The owl is a wonderful fellow!" said the
mole. He seems to see everything. I sup-
pose it is because his eyes are so big. But I wish
I had thought to ask him what it is good for "


I LOOKED from my window,
And, dancing together,
I spied three queer people
Who love the wet weather.
The turtle, the frog, and the duck all joined
To caper so gaily upon the wet sands.

The turtle was coated
In shell, to defy
The pattering rain-drops,
And keep him quite dry.

The frog in green jacket was gay as
could be,
"My coat will shed water-just see it!"
said he.

The duck shook his web-feet
And ruffled his feathers;
Cried he, Rain won't hurt me!
"I 'm dressed for all weathers.
And when I can see the clouds frown in
the sky
I oil my gray feathers and keep very dry!"



IT lay for a long time on the edge of the
little brook, deep in the forest, sparkling like a
tiny flame in the sunlight, and growing still
in the dusk like the bright eye of some fairy
hidden in the grass.
One day, when a very bright sunbeam danced
to and fro across it, the tortoise stopped to look
curiously at it. He was a slow fellow at his
best, and lingered so long that Bunny stopped,
too, to see what it could be; and the squirrel
from the fence-rail gave up scolding at the
crows to ask them what was to be seen. The
crows themselves are famous for chattering, so
in less time than I can tell it, they had spread
the news to all the forest-creatures.
"It 's not good to eat," said the tortoise;
"for I tasted it, and it's hard and cold."
"You cannot bite it, anyway," said Bunny.
"I would much rather have a carrot."
If it were a nut it would have a shell," said
the squirrel; "but I see it is not that."
It might be a new kind of corn," said the
crows, and one of them flew down to peck
at it.
Pshaw! said he, it is harder than a stone,
and nothing like a kernel of corn; we can do
nothing with it!"
It is certainly very pretty," said the robin;
"but I could not make a nest of it, and I for
one would much rather have a cherry."
Perhaps the owl can tell us what it is,"

meekly suggested the mole; I found it under
the soil when I was digging out my burrow."
So the squirrel was sent to waken the owl,
who sat dozing in his home in the hollow tree.
Down he came, stumbling, blinking sleepily,
and yawning.
"Here is something-" said Bunny. "Yel-
low!" put in the crows all together. "Hard,"
said the tortoise. Very bright and shiny," said
the squirrel. And no use to any one of us,"
said the mole. "What is it ? "
Don't all talk at once," yawned the owl.
"What a stupid set you are! I know what
it is; gold!"
Just then a footstep rustled the dry leaves,
and all the forest-folk scampered away to hide.
Peeping out they saw a man walking slowly
along the brook. Just then his eye fell on the
glittering little ball; and crying out for joy he
seized it eagerly, turned it over and over in the
sunlight, and after hiding it carefully in his
breast hurried away.
"Well, I never! chattered the squirrel, run-
ning from his hiding-place in the oak-tree.
"He seemed to know what to do with it!"
And all the crows fluttered away to tell of
the strange treasure found by the brook.
"The owl is a wonderful fellow!" said the
mole. He seems to see everything. I sup-
pose it is because his eyes are so big. But I wish
I had thought to ask him what it is good for "


I LOOKED from my window,
And, dancing together,
I spied three queer people
Who love the wet weather.
The turtle, the frog, and the duck all joined
To caper so gaily upon the wet sands.

The turtle was coated
In shell, to defy
The pattering rain-drops,
And keep him quite dry.

The frog in green jacket was gay as
could be,
"My coat will shed water-just see it!"
said he.

The duck shook his web-feet
And ruffled his feathers;
Cried he, Rain won't hurt me!
"I 'm dressed for all weathers.
And when I can see the clouds frown in
the sky
I oil my gray feathers and keep very dry!"


I'll 11





-- -;;.- -~



AGNES was only six years old, but her sister
was grown up, and was an artist. Agnes liked
to go to the studio where her sister Violet
made pictures, for there were queer hats and
coats and gowns about the room. Agnes
would put these on and play that she was a
queen or a princess or a fairy. One day she
found a big hat that once had belonged to
a soldier years and years ago-before Agnes,
or her father, or her grandfather was born.
The little girl put on the great hat, and played
that she was the queen of the fairies-" Queen
Mab." But she could not find a wand. Her
sister said, No matter about a wand. You
can pretend that you left it at home."
"No," said Agnes, "I must have a wand.
S'pose I was to meet a bad fairy ? Why, she
could change me into a frog, maybe!"
"That would never do," said her sister.
"Here," and she gave Agnes an old umbrella,
"here is the finest golden wand in the world.
See what a bright tip it has! It gleams like
a star when the sun shines on it."
So Agnes took the umbrella, and played
that she was at a fairy court. And her sister

thought the little girl looked pretty in the old
hat, and asked her to stand still while her pic-
ture was drawn. For some time Agnes was
as stiff and quiet as a ninepin, but then her
hands were tired, and she dropped the umbrella
on the floor.
"Queen Mab puts down her wand, some-
times! she said.
"But you must keep your hands the same
way," said her sister; "I am nearly done.
Hold-something not so heavy."
I '11 hold my skirt, then," said Agnes, and
she caught up one edge of it.
Soon her sister finished the first drawing,
and in it Agnes looked tired, but as if she
meant to be very good and to keep still; and
so she did, for she hoped some day to see
the picture in ST. NICHOLAS.
Agnes had to put on the old hat several
times on other days; but when the picture was
done, Agnes was glad, and she wanted to give
it a name. She called it, "A Little Girl With
a Big Hat On "; but her sister called it, The
Artist's Daughter," which was a finer name,
but was make-believe instead of real.



'IF you find the nest," said Farmer Brown,
With a twinkle in his eye,
"You shall have the nicest thing in town
That a dollar bill will buy.
But, mind you, it won't be children's play,
For that sly old turkey-hen
Has often stolen her nest away,
And has puzzled all my men."
Across the fields and into the wood,
And down by the running brook,
Among the logs where the old mill stood,
Into every kind of nook;
VOL. XXI.-83. 657

And, one by one, they gave up the quest-
Bobbie and Jack and Fred:
"We never could find that turkey's nest,
If we searched a month," they said.
The fields were wide and the hills were steep
And the baby's years were few,
And she lagged behind and went to sleep
Where the alder-bushes grew.
And the turkey did not see her guest,
As she sought her eggs, to set;
So baby awoke and found the nest-
And the folks are wondering yet.



AGNES was only six years old, but her sister
was grown up, and was an artist. Agnes liked
to go to the studio where her sister Violet
made pictures, for there were queer hats and
coats and gowns about the room. Agnes
would put these on and play that she was a
queen or a princess or a fairy. One day she
found a big hat that once had belonged to
a soldier years and years ago-before Agnes,
or her father, or her grandfather was born.
The little girl put on the great hat, and played
that she was the queen of the fairies-" Queen
Mab." But she could not find a wand. Her
sister said, No matter about a wand. You
can pretend that you left it at home."
"No," said Agnes, "I must have a wand.
S'pose I was to meet a bad fairy ? Why, she
could change me into a frog, maybe!"
"That would never do," said her sister.
"Here," and she gave Agnes an old umbrella,
"here is the finest golden wand in the world.
See what a bright tip it has! It gleams like
a star when the sun shines on it."
So Agnes took the umbrella, and played
that she was at a fairy court. And her sister

thought the little girl looked pretty in the old
hat, and asked her to stand still while her pic-
ture was drawn. For some time Agnes was
as stiff and quiet as a ninepin, but then her
hands were tired, and she dropped the umbrella
on the floor.
"Queen Mab puts down her wand, some-
times! she said.
"But you must keep your hands the same
way," said her sister; "I am nearly done.
Hold-something not so heavy."
I '11 hold my skirt, then," said Agnes, and
she caught up one edge of it.
Soon her sister finished the first drawing,
and in it Agnes looked tired, but as if she
meant to be very good and to keep still; and
so she did, for she hoped some day to see
the picture in ST. NICHOLAS.
Agnes had to put on the old hat several
times on other days; but when the picture was
done, Agnes was glad, and she wanted to give
it a name. She called it, "A Little Girl With
a Big Hat On "; but her sister called it, The
Artist's Daughter," which was a finer name,
but was make-believe instead of real.



'IF you find the nest," said Farmer Brown,
With a twinkle in his eye,
"You shall have the nicest thing in town
That a dollar bill will buy.
But, mind you, it won't be children's play,
For that sly old turkey-hen
Has often stolen her nest away,
And has puzzled all my men."
Across the fields and into the wood,
And down by the running brook,
Among the logs where the old mill stood,
Into every kind of nook;
VOL. XXI.-83. 657

And, one by one, they gave up the quest-
Bobbie and Jack and Fred:
"We never could find that turkey's nest,
If we searched a month," they said.
The fields were wide and the hills were steep
And the baby's years were few,
And she lagged behind and went to sleep
Where the alder-bushes grew.
And the turkey did not see her guest,
As she sought her eggs, to set;
So baby awoke and found the nest-
And the folks are wondering yet.


THE cat was so very highly regarded in England at
one time, both as a rat- and mouse-catcher and as an
ornament to society, that we find the following law passed
by one of the princes of Wales:
If any one steal or kill a Cat that guards the Prince's Granary, he
is to forfeit a milch Ewe, its Fleece and Lamb. Or, as much Wheat
as, when poured upon the cat suspended from its tail, with the head
touching the floor, would form a heap high enough to cover the tip
of the former.
Though the Welsh had a high opinion of the cat, the
ancient Egyptians held them still higher. This intelligent
and civilized people treated cats with great distinction.
It was a crime to kill them, and when they died they
received a public burial, at which the people mourned,
having first shaved off their eyebrows as a token of
sorrow. The most prominent cats were, upon death,
embalmed in drugs and spices, and cat mummies have
been found side by side with those of kings. When
Cambyses, the Persian, attacked the Egyptian city of
Pelusis, he cunningly provided his soldiers with cats
instead of shields. When the host advanced, the
Egyptians retired in confusion upon discovering that
they would be unable to do damage to their enemy with-
out seriously imperiling the lives of vast numbers of
cats. And so the city was taken easily, and without the
loss of blood or of a cat. It cannot be disputed that the
ancient Egyptian cats must have enjoyed life very
much.- St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

A FIERCE battle for life, between a large spider and a
wasp, was witnessed by a fifteenth-ward man in his gar-
den one day last summer. The spider had spread her
web in a corner of the fence and was patiently waiting for
something to turn up. Suddenly a wasp flew into the
web. He was firmly caught, but his desperate efforts to
escape tore several holes in the flimsy network about
him. Here the spider rushed out and rapidly began to
repair the breaks. The wasp fought harder still, and
seemed to be trying to get a chance to sting his sly foe.
In a minute or two the wasp lay perfectly still, as if
dead. The spider rushed out and seized the body of her

victim. The wasp, who had apparently been playing
possum, suddenly became very much alive, and in a flash
spider and wasp were clasped in a deathlock. There was
a short, fierce struggle, and both insects fell from the dil-
apidated web to the ground. They lay there quite still,
and the interested spectator, stooping over them, found
that both were dead.-Philadelphia Record.

A REMARKABLE token of the importance of the toy in-
dustry in the ancient city of Nuremberg'is afforded by the
great gathering in one of the public halls, at a banquet in
celebration of the completion of the 3oo,ooothmodel steam-
engine by a well-known maker. Among the guests were
the heads of the municipality and of several industrial
and commercial corporations. The little model which
marks this stage in the toy-making industry of the Nu-
remberg firm was constructed with the latest improve-
ments. It was adorned with a laurel wreath, and exhib-
ited in the hall side by side with a model of the date 1815,
in order to show the progress in construction. It is said
that this factory alone has also turned out more than
325,000 magic-lanterns.- Exchange.

ON Tuesday last, in less than 270 minutes, Punch,"
a sturdy carrier-pigeon (perhaps some of you know him),
flew 200 miles, carrying seven messages from the school-
ship "Saratoga" to Philadelphia. He was sent off at ten
o'clock in the morning, and was found in his own loft at
2:30 in the afternoon. It was Punch who beat all other
records last September, when he brought a letter from a
naval officer on the cruiser New York" to his wife at
Bryn Mawr. He covered a distance of 200 miles in less
than 197 minutes.-New York World.

HEINRICH MEHRMAN, the well-known trainer, talks
interestingly of his experience with the lions. He began
to train lions when he was no longer a young man, I
and soon learned the secret of how to master them. He
has succeeded in acquiring a control that is almost
unique among his fellows.
It is a recognized principle of many animal-trainers
that the human eye is a chief factor in holding the beasts
in subjection. To Mr. Mehrman this help seems un-
necessary. He explained his methods in this to-day:
"Of course, an animal must be treated kindly; but
one of the greatest requisites of an animal-trainer is ab-
solute self-confidence. Without this he cannot have
anything like control over his savage beasts. Now I
do not mean to say for a moment that I always have the
requisite amount of self-confidence. I know that I have
not, and when I am lacking in that respect something is
sure to happen. Animals are shrewd observers, and they
detect anything of that kind more quickly than you would
imagine. The other night some little thing went wrong,


and my attention was distracted. One of my big lions
immediately noticed this, and when I went to cow him
he turned on me, clawed my coat half off my back, and
made a great scratch on my arm. The great danger
from such an occurrence is that when a man has trouble
with one animal the others are very apt to try to help
their mate. As soon as one of the lions becomes unruly
you may see the lions and the tigers exchange glances;
all they want then is a leader, and every one of them
would be at me. The successful animal-trainer cannot
smoke much; he should have little or nothing to do with
spirits, and must take the very best possible care of his
physical condition, so as to keep the mind perfectly clear.
Hundreds of men have been seriously injured by wild
animals, but I believe it is always their own fault."-
Evening Post, N. Y.

"WE have a canary at our home," said a gentleman from
Lincoln, Nebraska, a few days ago, "that is considered
by the family to be just about as smart as they make
them. I '11 tell you why we think so. The bird-cage
hangs in a room in which there is a large coal-stove. One
afternoon we were all going out for a short while, and as
the fire was low my wife filled the stove with coal and
turned on the draft, expecting to be home before the fire
got too hot. We were gone some time longer than we
had expected, however, and when we returned the room
was like a furnace, and the stove red-hot. My wife's
first thought was of the bird, and upon looking up at the
cage and not seeing him, concluded at once that he had
been suffocated by the intense heat. She immediately
got a chair and climbed up to look into the cage, fully
expecting to see the poor bird stretched out on the floor,
dead. Such was far from being the case, however. In-
stead, there he was sitting down flat in his bathtub, with
only his head, which he would now and then dip into the
water, exposed to the furnace-like heat of the room."-
St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

THE drunkard's cloak," now on exhibition in this city
among other instruments of torture, is one of the many
worn by the soldiers in Cromwell's army. The cloak is
almost an exact counterpart of a big wooden churn. This
wooden shirt was slipped over the tippler's head, while
his face was covered with a wire cage. Thus attired he
was set forth upon the street to be hooted at.- New York

BOISE, Idaho, March 3.-A remarkable story of a ride
upon an avalanche comes from Atlanta, in the Sawtooth
Mountains. Generally when a man is caught in a snow-
slide he is buried, and either crushed or smothered to
death; but in this case the imperiled man actually rode
the avalanche half a mile and came out alive. Charles
Goetz was hunting in the mountains near Atlanta, when
the snow started under his feet. He was unable to ex-
tricate himself from the moving mass, and in a few mo-
ments he was being carried along upon the breast of a
roaring avalanche. The slide rushed down into a rocky,
precipitous cafion, but Goetz went through alive. He
was found eleven hours afterward by a rescuing party,
and, though terribly bruised, he is in a fair way to re-
covery.- Chicago Herald.


THE question is often asked: "Where do sea-birds
obtain fresh water to slake their thirst ? But we have
never seen it satisfactorily answered until a few days
ago. An old skipper with whom we were conversing
on the subject said that he had seen these birds at sea
far from any land that could furnish them water hovering
around and under a storm-cloud, clattering like ducks on
a hot day at a pond, and drinking in the drops of rain as
they fell. They will smell a rain-squall a hundred miles
or even farther off, and scud for it with almost incon-
ceivable swiftness.
How long sea-birds can exist without water is only a
matter of conjecture, but probably their powers of en-
during thirst are increased by habit, and possibly they
go without water for many days, if not for several
weeks.- Golden Days.

A YOUNG artist of Boston, after a snow-storm in that
city last winter, made a snow model in one of the public
squares, that has attracted much attention during the past
week. It represented a girl dressed in the height of fashion,
standing with her arms folded. At her feet crouched a
bulldog. The image was modeled in elaborate detail; and
though the thaw destroyed some of the fine lines, suc-
ceeding cold weather preserved the figure. A young
Swede, John Jepson, was the sculptor; he spent about
three hours on the work.-New York Tribune.

A HAWK captured and killed a carrier-pigeon in Druid
Hill Park yesterday morning after a protracted chase.
The lightning-like movements of the pursuer and pursued
were a revelation to those who were not versed in the
flights of birds. The pigeon, as long as it kept in a straight
line, beat the hawk flying, but on becoming frightened
and confused it began a zigzag course, and was then an
easy prey. Capt. Cassell frightened the hawk so that he
got the pigeon, but the pigeon was dead when it struck
the ground.- Baltimore Sun.

"How many stories has this building?" asked the
"Several thousand," was the reply.
What! why, where am I? "
"In the fiction department of the public library."-
Washington Star.

REPORTS from various sources render the existence of
submarine oil-wells very probable. Oil, floating on the
surface of the ocean, has been frequently observed, and in
Many cases this has been thought to be due to the escape
of petroleum, or other oils, from wrecks, but it has been
found in such a great number of places and in such quan-
tities that this source is insufficient to account for its
presence. An officer of a British steamer reports having
passed through a large body of what was thought to be
whale-oil, about one hundred yards square and one foot
deep, and there are many indications in the Gulf of Mex-
ico which point to the existence of submarine oil-wells, or
springs of some similar substance, and these must be the
source of the floating oil.-The Portland Transcript.



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very much interested ii
"A Man-o'-War's Menagerie," because Lieutenant Kim
ball, who is mentioned in it, is my father's cousin. I am in
terested also in the San Francisco," because it was buil
when I was a smaller little girl than I am now and live(
in the city of San Francisco. I am a California girl, an
was born nine years ago in Oakland, which is across th
bay from San Francisco. I must close now, because
want to read ST. NICHOLAS, which I got only to-day, be
fore I go to bed; but my mama says I must go up-stairs
Your affectionate reader, MARGARET P- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Ever since I have read "Ton
Paulding" I wanted to tell you about the money the:
found down in Florida about three years ago. An Amer
ican lady living in Europe wanted to have an old housi
that she owned torn down, in order to build a new one
The contractor said in his letter to her, in a joke, o
course, that should they find any hidden treasure the'
would claim it. The lady replied, in the same manner
they could. While tearing out the old fireplace, a work
man saw something glitter that had fallen at his feet
He picked it up; it was a gold coin! He called th
workmen, ter and after an excited search they had fou
quite a large sum of money. It was not the kind o
money that we use, but they were Spanish doubloons
each one worth sixteen dollars and a half, and there wer
enough to make over two thousand dollars. The dir
that had been carted out of town was sifted and in it wa
found a number more of these coins. Everybody wen
wild over the discovery, and wanted to tear down all th
old houses in town. The contractors divided the mone
between themselves, and many of the coins were sol,
for more than their value, because of their beauty an
age. The oldest one was dated 1754; some sold for a
high as twenty-five dollars. This is a true story of
real treasure, and I thought it would interest the reader
of ST. NICHOLAS. I saw one of these gold pieces my
self and had it in my hand. Your friend and reader,

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Polish bo
nine years old, and live in an island near Russia, calle
Oesel. Here are woods with foxes and hares. My brc
their, who is eleven, and I go hunting with Papa. W
find many mushrooms in the woods, and a great deal o
cranberries. We have many forts in Oesel, but the large
est is here near Arensburg. This fortress is eight hur
dred years old. A hundred years ago they found an ol
warrior in Spanish dress with golden spurs, sitting in a
arm-chair in a little room shut with a great flat ston(
He had a sword on his knee. Before him was a table
with a lamp, a cup, and a piece of bread on it. Whe
they touched him he fell to ashes. I have learned Eng
lish for a year and three months. I have written thi
letter myself, and hope you will print it in your beautify
magazine, which I like so much.
Your devoted reader, ALEXANDER M- .

I DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your magazine
for a long time, and when it came to me for the first time
-out here it was just like an old friend. We have not
t lived here very long, but I am used to strange places,
I as I have been almost all over the world in my father's
I ship. Once we were shipwrecked.
e My sister sends you her love. Your little friend,

HARVEY B.-The poem, "Leonidas," by Anna Robe-
son'Brown, was published in ST. NICHOLAS for October,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My little brother Cary, when
Y he was about three years old, was very much interested
e in his baby brother while he was cutting his teeth, and
asked a great many questions about them.
y One day he was outdoors watching the little chickens,
whose tail-feathers were just beginning to appear. Pretty
Ssoon he came running into the house. "Mama, Mama!"
She cried, "my little chickens are cutting their tails "
I am ten years old, and have not been taking your
e magazine very long, but I like it very much. Good-by.
I With best wishes I am ever your constant reader,
f HAZEL G- .
t DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much. I am
s five years old. My little sister Cecolie likes you too.
t She calls you "Nicky." I wish you would please print
e this for me. My hand is getting tired, so I will stop. I
Y am your little reader, NELLIE L. C-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little girl living in In-
dia, where Papa is a missionary; he is revising the Hindi
In the summer we live in the Himalaya Mountains,
and, when it is too cold to stay there, we come down to
Dehra Valley to live there th for the winter.
In the mountains I go to a school named "Woodstock,"
y and a great many girls there take your magazine.
d When I was a very little girl, Mama and Papa took the
i- ST. NICHOLAS for my elder brothers and sisters, and we
e have ten volumes--from November, 1874, to October,
f 1885, with the exception of the tenth volume. This is
r- the first year we have taken it since 1885; Mama and
i- Papa gave it to us for a Christmas present.
d Once when we were in the mountains, a leopard came
n up to our cow-house and wanted to take away our little
!. calf, but when it saw the gwala, or cow-man, it walked
.e off. Another time, when Papa was going to Rajpur on
n his bicycle, he passed through a troop of monkeys, who
i. were evidently very much surprised to see that new mode
is of locomotion.
il When we were out camping last winter we had a ride
on an elephant, and Papa showed us from that elevated
position what he called "an Indian dinner-party"; the


guests were some vultures and jackals, who were feasting
on the remains of a dead buffalo.
We heard a great many jackals wailing, during our
camp nights, and we called them "the little gentlemen
going to a concert."
I like India very much, but I always wish there never
had been a Tower of Babel, for it is so difficult to learn
Hindustani. We have been here only a little more than
a year, so it is well for us that Papa has been here be-
fore, and knows the language.
From your interested reader, EDITH M. K- .

I send you a little lullaby which I wrote myself.

(A Lullaby.)
HUSH, baby, hush!
The moonlight is beaming,
The good folks are dreaming.
Hush, baby, hush !

Hush, baby, hush!
Far o'er the mountain-tops,
There the setting sun drops.
Hush, baby, hush!

Hush, baby, hush!
The stars are beginning to peep,
So you ought to be asleep.
Hush, baby, hush!

E. M. K---.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It is stated in
Abroad," in your February number, tha
Sahara contains 4,162,000oo square miles.
pedia Britannica states that the desert o
area of 3,565,565 square miles. Which is
answer your little ten-year-old reader.

Authorities differ very widely in their s
size of the Sahara desert-as much as
miles. The" EncyclopediaBritannica's":
only as estimated, and do not include ai
east of the Nile. Of course the desert has
such as the boundaries of a nation, and
well differ as to whether a certain region
a part of the desert.
Probably Mark Twain took the larg
found, including all the desert country.
ous guesses at the area: "Lippincott's Ga
ooo square miles; Appleton's American
1,500,000 to 2,ooo,ooo; Webster's In
tionary," 2,000ooo,ooo000; Bartholomew(Engl
2,500,000; Meyer's Hand Lexicon," 2,
All of which are, as you see, far below
cyclopedia Britannica's or Mark Twaii
Ritter's Geographical Statistics Lexic
3,500,000 square miles, and is probably
thority as any.
We do not know what authority Ma

"Tom Sawyer
it the desert of
The Encyclo-
fC Sahara ha san

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My Uncle Walter takes you
and then sends you to us. I read How Paper Money
is Made." I asked Grandpa to let me take one of his
bills; he let me, and I saw a little D and a very small
C under it.
My auntie went to the World's Fair, and when she
came home she brought a chameleon with her, and he
is the pet of the whole family. Auntie named him
" Christopher Columbus," he has traveled so far. He
will turn dark-red, brown, and almost black, but light-
green is his prettiest color. All of our friends bring him
flies, which seem to be his favorite article of food.
Auntie brought me some cards also, which have pic-
tures of most all the people in Europe, Asia, and some in
Africa. Yours sincerely, BERTHA E. C--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have long meant to write to
you, for we were both born in the same year, 1873, and,
moreover, I have you complete from 1873 to 1893, in
twenty nicely bound volumes !
My brother took you the first five years, then in
1881 you were sent to me, and, with the exception of
three years, I have taken you ever since.
Last year, when I realized what a valuable posses-
sion a complete set of you would be, I procured the six
volumes we did not have, and now I am very proud
of my complete set in its simple uniform binding. I
hope to continue taking you as long as I live. Others,
doubtless, have a complete set also, and I wonder if
they are as fond of the earlier volumes as I am; they
rival, if anything, the newer larger volumes; but the
whole set, from beginning to end, is a mine of valuable
and interesting information.
My father and I enjoy solving the puzzles each month,
and we always try to send in answers to them all; the
hardest ones are the best fun. Sincerely your well-wisher
and friend, HELEN C. MCC- .

correct? Please AUSTIN, TEXAS.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I subscribed for you over
A. E. C- a year ago, but at the end of the year's subscription I
stopped on account of hard times. However, my love
statements of the for you was such that I had all the numbers received
from you nicely bound into a book with a leather back
2,000,000 square to it, on which your name appears in gilt letters; and I
figures are given expressed such a desire to have you again, that Papa
ny of the desert made me a Christmas gift of a year's subscription last
s no exact limits, December.
travelers might Up north where ST. NICHOLAS is published I know
travelers might that you have plenty of snow every winter. Here we
was or was not rarely ever see the snow, whole winters passing with-
out a snowflake falling. Last winter, on Christmas day,
est estimate he flowers were blooming in our front yard. How great
Here are vari- our country is when it embraces so many different
azetteer," 2,ooo,- I will not trouble you with a longer letter, but will
Encyclopedia," close by saying that of all the Christmas gifts I received
international Dic- none pleased me better than the year's subscription to
ish geographer), yourself. HUGH W--

500,000 (about).
either the "En-
n's figures.
on gives about
as good an au-

rk Twain relied

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on a vineyard, in Fresno.
We have a place of one hundred and forty acres; it is
mostly planted out in muscats, excepting five acres which
are planted in sultanas. Most of the second crop this year
was dipped in lye. The lye is put in the water, and then
it boils. There is a fire underneath. The grapes are
then put into evaporating pails and dipped in the boiling


lye and water for about six or seven seconds; the grapes
are then laid out on trays, and if it is very hot they will
dry in seven days, but if not they will need a fortnight.
Our crop is very large this year, and of very fine raisins.
I have read ST. NICHOLAS for over a -year, and like it im-
mensely. Mother is giving it to my sister and myself
for this year. Yours affectionately, A. A. H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My mother and father are go-
ing abroad for the winter, and they are going to leave
my brother and me with my grandma and grandpa in
the country. I have two brothers; one is a baby boy; he
is three years and six months old; he is very funny some-
times. My other brother is nearly nine years old; I am
eleven years and two months old; we live in the coun-
try. In the summer we have a lovely time; we swim, and
hunt, and fish. I have a very nice bass rod, and so has
my brother; and I have a nice little twenty-two caliber
rifle, and I shoot partridges and rabbits in the winter-
time. I go out on Saturday with Papa on hunting-trips.
Sometitfies Papa takes his Winchester rifle to get deer.
I like to skate very much. I have liked you very much
ever since I have had you.
I remain your loving reader, CULVER A- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never written you a let-
ter yet, so I thought I would write one. Elk Point is not
a very big place, but I think it is real nice. We have n't
any hills to slide down, so we have to catch on behind
sleighs. We seldom get skating in the winter, but in
spring when the snow melts the water runs in ditches
and then it freezes, and makes lots of ice on which we
try to skate, but generally break our noses and arms and
skin our shins instead. We have a dog whose name is
" Prince." He is the most playful dog I ever saw, and
especially likes to run after sticks. He is sitting in a chair
while I am writing this letter. We have taken you ever
since I can remember, and would n't know how to get

along without you. The daily papers never have nice
stories in them, so I prefer to read you. I am a boy nine
years old, and I am Your faithful reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As it is your birthday, I wish
you many happy returns of the day. I have taken you
for two years, and I think you are the best children's
magazine I have ever seen. My Papa is an author, and
has written many books.
Did any of your readers ever try a collection of feathers ?
I have, and have about fifty varieties.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them:
Alice C. B., Inez V. H., Bessie B., Elizabeth C. S.,
Leroy B., Delos K. D., Marion H. I., Bessie C. H.,
R. M. V. L., Carrie M. P., A. L. H. and R. S. H.,
Anna R. S. and Margaret N. A., Albert W. S., Angela
McC.,Wilton A. E., Florence E. S., Pollie K., Wm. D.
G., Susie U. E., Elizabeth D., G. B., M. B., Regina R.,
Harold W. H., Annie A., Rex, J. C. D., Jr., Cecilia M.
K., Ethel H. W., Winifred H., M. M. W., Daisy D.,
Ruth A. B., George W. L., Charlotte J. H., Josephine
C., Stuart B. G., Maude R., Bertha L. B., Ethel M.,
Grace, Jim, and Russell W., May C., C. M. W., Laura,
V. B., Chester E. R., Jr., Helen B., Henry S. G., Mabel
C., H. N. K., Nina M. N., Rose H. and Campbell P.,
Sarah H. J., Josie R. L., Robert Van B., Sallie, Isabel,
and Annie C., Eldridge W. J., Edmond W. P., May E.
V., Rowland E. L., Frank T., Esther V., Mary G., Ger-
trude S., Mabel C., Abby E. S., R. H. M., Bessie S. T.,
Burlie T., Beatrice E. P., Jean A. R., Eileen McC.,
Virginia, Myrtle F., Florence B. F., Amelia 0., Florence
L., Claire R. McG., Rachel B., Anna D. C., Samuel E.,
Mabel C., Edith M. C., Helen S. S., C. W., Jean N. C.,
Susie McD., Nellie R. M., Doris R., Edith MacN., E.
B. J., and Charlie W.

READERS of the interesting paper, in this number, en-
titled Some Ancient Musical Instruments," will appre-
ciate this clever verse by Miss E. L. Sylvester:


QUOTH Meyerbeer Rossini Boccherini Verdi Jones,
"Give me a hurdy-gurdy, sir, for purity of tones;
There 's not another instrument that 's half so fine
and sturdy,
And that you must admit, sir, when once you 've
heard a gurdy."



NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Enigmatography.
INTERSECTING WORDS. From i to 2, correct; 3 to 4, snorted; 5 to
6, current. Cross-words: I. Couches. 2. Columns. 3. Sorrows.
4. Florist. 5. Sateens. 6. Reenact. 7. Distant.
ZIGZAG. Sir Edwin Landseer. Cross-words: i. Shed. 2. file.
3-. foRk. 4. sirE. 5. daDo. 6. eWer. 7. Inch. 8. aNon. 9. foLd.
so. areA. i. siN. aDds. 3. Sign. 14. sEre. 15. frEt.
16. mooR.
3. Yacht. 4. Apple. 5. Revolver. 6. Dagger.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Francis Marion Crawford; finals,
Frances Hodgson Burnett. Cross-words: a. Feoff. 2. Recur.
3. Arena. 4. Nisan. 5. Civic. 6. Inane. 7. Signs. 8. Month.
9. Abaco. to. Rabid. ir. Icing. 12. Orris. 13. Negro. 14. Canon.
15. Rhomb. 16. Adieu. 17. Waver. 18. Feign. 19. Olive. 20. Roost.
2x. Daunt.--CHARADE. Hem-i-sphere.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Swamp Fox Cross-words: I. paSte
2. doWdy. 3. stAin. 4. daMan. 5. taPer. 6. loFty. 7. knOck.
8. boXer.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Guess. 2. Unrip. 3. Erode. 4. Sidle.
5. Speed. II. i. Yacht. 2. Abhor. 3. Chore. 4. Horse. 5. Trees.
III. I. Deist. 2. Error. 3. Irony. 4. Songs. 5. Tryst. IV.
i. Unapt. 2. Negro. 3. Again. 4. Prime. 5. Toned. V. i. Tarts.
2. Avert. 3. Repay. 4. Trail. 5. Style.
CUBE. From I to 2, foliage ; to 3, foreign; 2 to 4, entered ; 3
to 4, nature; 5 to 6, paresis ; 5 to 7, phantom; 6 to 8, secular; 7
to 8, manager; i to 5, flap; 2 to 6, eats; 4 to 8, deer; 3 to 7, norm.
RHYMED TRANSPOSITIONS. Sutler, Ulster, rulest, luster, rustle,
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Mimes. 2. Ideal. 3. Metre. 4. Eared.
5. Sleds. II. i. Dares. 2. Apode. 3. Rosin. 4. Edits. 5. Sense.
III. x. Event. 2. Valor. 3. Elite. 4. Notus. 5. Tress.

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 FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February a5th, from Paul Rowley-- Helen C.
McCleary-Louise Ingham Adams-Josephine Sherwood- Uncle Mung-Chester B. Sumner- Aunt Kate, Isabel, Mama, and Jamie -
Blanche and Fred-John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman-L. O. E.-E. Kellogg Trowbridge -"The Wise Five"-Jo and I.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 15th, from L. U. E., Mai H. Scudder, I -
Lulu Campbell, 2 Paul Reese, 8 Ethel Ruth Johnson, i Royal D. Thomas, i Alexander Gunn, I Florence E. Sheldon, i Har-
old A. Fisher, 2 M. McG., 8 Edward L. Davis, i Helen G. Elliott, 3 G. B. Dyer, 8 L. H. K., 3 W. Kidds, 2 Elaine S., I -
"The Maid of Bath," 6 Carrie Chester, i Stubbs Isabel, i Robert Van Buskirk, i Mama and Helen, 5 Ida Carleton Thallon, 8-
Edna Myers, i-Thomas Avery, 7-Effie K. Talboys, 6-Ira F. Wildey, 2-L. B. F., I-L. Fletcher Craig, --Mama and
Sadie, 5-Alice Mildred Blanke and Co., 8-" Gamma Kai Gamma," 3- M. E. H., 2-" Maine and Minnesota," 8 -A. T. S., 8-
Convent Chums, i- No Name, 3 -Estelle and Clarendon, 2- Geo. S. Seymour, 3-" The Clever Two," 6- Evelyn E. Smith, 8- A.
R. T. and J. T., 5 Will O. Tree," 5 Robert and Walter Haight, 8 Bessie and Eva, 7 R. S. Bloomingdale, 8 E. N. Moore, 5 -
May Vatter, -Chas. A. Barnard, 3-Herbert Wright, i--Ethel and Cousin Burt, 8- Edward W. Sturdevant, Jr., and M. S. S., 6-
Hubert L. Bingay, 6 -" The Lady from Philadelphia," 8 -" Helen and Florida," 6- Charlotte Annie Peabody, 8 Helen and Bessie, 2.


EACH of the objects in the above picture may be de-
scribed by a word of five letters. When rightly guessed,
-nd the words placed one below another, the diagonal


(beginning at the upper, left-hand letter) will spell a
long-winged bird.
SOME ONE threw myfirst and second at me, and it hit
my third. It did not hurt me, for it was only a branch
of my whole. PEARLE C.

MY first'is in coffee, but not in tea;
My second, in river, but not in sea;
My third is in banter, but not in joke;
My fourth is in mantle, but not in cloak;
My fifth is in tocsin, but not in alarm;
My sixth is in village, but not in farm;
My seventh, in cash, but not in coin;
My eighth is in add, but not in join;
My ninth is in carol, but not in song;
My tenth is in chain, but not in thong;
My eleventh, in cork, but not in wood;
My twelfth is in cape, but not in hood.
My whole was a lord of the Spanish main,
Who sailed from England, a fortune to gain.


MY primals name those especially remembered by
soldiers in the latter part of May; my finals show for
what purpose certain decorations are prepared.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A fissure. 2. Very corpulent. 3. A
title of respect given to a lady. 4. A character in one of
Shakspere's plays. 5. An autumn flower. 6. A famous
city of India. 7. Additional. 8. Part of a flower.

I. IN pomegranate. 2. A small quadruped. 3. Ex-
tremely violent. 4. Nourishment. 5. Covered with
tiles. 6. Poor or ragged clothing. 7. In pomegranate.



I AM composed of sixty-six letters, and
form two lines of a poem by Thomas Bu-
chanan Read.
S My 24-35-63 is an inlet of the sea. My
51-14-9-45 is to draw near. My 58-4-29-8 is one of the
United States. My 54-42-19-47 is combustible turf. My
17-32-27-56 is a cement. My22-64-2-40 is high temper-
ature. My 33-11-38-62 is the fermented juice of grapes.
My 60-25-6-21-13 is peevish. My 3-34-65-49-28 is
barm. My 7-52-46-26-57 is to swindle. My41-23-53-
36-48-16 is the abode of bliss. My 44-5-30-59-55-o1
is a thin, indented cake. My 61-r5-I2-39-66-20 is hav-
ing a keen appetite. My 43-31-18-1-37-50 is the
highest point. L. W.

TON eht wrod, tub eth solu fo het ginth!
Ton het mane, tub het ripsit fo grispn !
Dan os, ta grimnon really,
Gothhur shoregwed shref dan parley,
Dekebced twih whathorne cransheb
Dan plape lossmobs yag,
Reh geldon hira doarun ehr,
Sa fi mose dog hda wronced reh,
Sarcos het dwey nodadlow
Scome dangcin ni eht yam.


WHEN the following words have been rightly guessed,
and placed one below another, the initial letters will spell
the name of a famous hero.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. Endangers. 2. A
vegetable. 3. To hold firmly. 4. To make into a law.
5. Aknave. 6. An ancient Persianhead-dress. 7. Cheer-
less. 8. A Russian coin. 9. To join. Io. A venomous
serpent. II. One hostile to another.


I 9 17
2 10 18
3 II 19
4 12 20
5 13 21
6 14 22
7 15 23
8 16 24

4 to 12, a body of water; 5 to 13, a South
American ruminant; 6 to 14, common; 7 to /
15, a rope with a running noose, used for
catching cattle; 8 to 16, a city in New York
State; 9 to 17, a Hebrew legislator and pro-
phet; io to 18, a Greek letter; II to 19, be-
longing to a city; 12 to 20, a wanderer; 13 to 21, a weapon ;
14 to 22, a river in Washington State; 15 to 23, pertain-
ing to the eye; 16 to 24, the name the Arabs give to the
Supreme Being. G. B. D.


ACROSS: I. A tattered piece of cloth. 2. Small game
animals. 3. To be of one mind. 4. Something used in
making bread. 5. A coloring substance.
DOWNWARD: I. A kind of fodder. 2. Became furi-
ous with anger. 3. To adorn with dress. 4. Certain
fowls. 5. To put in place; H. W. E.


* % *

I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND. I. In alter. 2. Ter-
mination. 3. A good spirit. 4. Moisture. 5. In alter.
game. 3. Afterward. 4. A jewel. 5. In alter.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In alter. 2. A covering
for the head. 3. An organ of the body. 4. To procure.
S5. In alter.
humorist. 3. A stratum. 4. To gain. 5. In alter.
brown. 3. One who rates. 4. Unhackneyed. 5. In alter.

FROM I to 8, and from 17 to 24, are geographical
names that of late have been very often in the newspa- WORD-SQUARE.
pers; from 9 to 16 is the name of a famous volcano, often
mentioned in connection with these geographical names. I. I. A LIGHT kind of musket. 2. A Burman measure
CROSS-WORDS: From I to 9, making of Tyre; 2 to 10, of twelve miles. 3. A portable chair. 4. An effigy.
a musical work; 3 to II, the French word for "nephew"; 5. Narrow passageways. "SAMUEL SYDNEY.



___ -- .. -.I
1iI .. -~::~

,,~, i.-..;

Ir I

~~ i 1

__~~ ;
.'r :i"-

*5'.; '. *,-, 'I1W

___ :lI .r

-; / ,,

/a --- I ~
!i -Z

Li ~

I /


~i i, ~ bP

i' :t ~ 31~L~I,










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

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