• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Frontispiece
 Front Matter
 The saga of Olaf the young
 Decatur and somers
 The little dryad
 Very good times
 A Russian school
 The racoon and his friends
 Monsieur et madame Crapaud
 Reynard's clever escape
 A four-leaved clover in the...
 Waking
 Rain and the robin
 Historic dwarfs Zotof
 Phoebe
 The discontented stone cutter
 The meadow brook
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 A yarn of Sailor Ben's
 A prodigy
 The spider's tale
 Abraham Johanne Magnarch
 The holiday
 A true story of "the blessed...
 The hokey pokey man
 About turkeys
 Rhymes of the states
 Puzzled birds
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 Floral enigmas
 Don
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00284
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00284
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
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece 1
        Frontispiece 2
        Page 666
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    The saga of Olaf the young
        Page 667
        Page 668
    Decatur and somers
        Page 669
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
        Page 673
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
        Page 677
    The little dryad
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
        Page 683
    Very good times
        Page 684
    A Russian school
        Page 685
    The racoon and his friends
        Page 686
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
    Monsieur et madame Crapaud
        Page 691
    Reynard's clever escape
        Page 692
        Page 693
    A four-leaved clover in the desert
        Page 694
        Page 695
        Page 696
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
    Waking
        Page 700
    Rain and the robin
        Page 700
    Historic dwarfs Zotof
        Page 701
        Page 702
        Page 703
        Page 704
    Phoebe
        Page 705
    The discontented stone cutter
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
        Page 710
    The meadow brook
        Page 711
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 712
        Page 713
        Page 714
        Page 715
        Page 716
        Page 717
        Page 718
        Page 719
        Page 720
        Page 721
    A yarn of Sailor Ben's
        Page 722
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
    A prodigy
        Page 728
    The spider's tale
        Page 729
    Abraham Johanne Magnarch
        Page 730
    The holiday
        Page 731
        Page 732
    A true story of "the blessed bees"
        Page 733
    The hokey pokey man
        Page 734
    About turkeys
        Page 735
        Page 736
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 737
        Page 738
        Page 739
    Puzzled birds
        Page 740
        Page 741
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 742
        Page 743
        Page 744
    Floral enigmas
        Page 745
        Page 746
    Don
        Page 747
    The letter-box
        Page 748
        Page 749
        Page 750
    The riddle-box
        Page 751
        Page 752
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text




















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ST. NICHOLAS.



VOL. XXI. JUNE, 1894. No. 8
Copyright, 1894, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


THE SAGA OF OLAF THE YOUNG.

BY ANNA ROBESON BROWN.

LAF, the son of Eric, oh, a wild, merry lad was he!
And where the crags of Norway rose black o'er a turbulent sea
The roof of the homestead glistened; he played with his brothers four,
Cynric, the golden-haired Svega, Eric, and little Thor.
They chased the deer on the mountains, and oft in their shallow skiff
They rowed where the sea-coming surges beat white at the foot of the cliff,
Or swam at their ease where the water was still, in the arm of the bay;
And Cynric and Svega swam strongly, but Olaf swam longer than they.

Rocked by the great green billows, Lord Eric's new battle-ship swung;
For many long months on her timbers the strokes of his henchmen had rung.
Her painted sails were crimson, and a Golden Dragon shone
At her prow, that her name and owner to all men might be known.
New, unchristened in battle, shining with paint, the tide
Lifted her curved prow gently, while Eric's heart swelled with pride;
And oft in the feast at twilight, lifting his horn, he rose
Crying, "Health to the Golden Dragon, and soon may she crush her foes!"

Once in the drowsy noontide, rambling as children will,
Olaf and all his brothers, at play and thinking no ill,
Wandered away to the crag's foot, and, climbing the rocks with glee,
Gained the top, and the pine-wood, shouting right merrily.
Suddenly "Stop !" cried Olaf; "look-on the further shore!"
And he pulled them down in the bushes, Eric and little Thor.
Till, as they crouched all breathless, they saw, where the sea ran white,
The beaked prow of a war-ship, and something that glistened bright:
Helmets and swords of warriors! And there, with not one to save,-
There rode the Golden Dragon, courtseying over the wave!






THE SAGA OF OLAF THE YOUNG.


"Oh, to give Father warning!" cried Svega, watching the shore,
"Run for the homestead!" said Cynric, and Robbers!" yelled little Thor.
But Olaf measured the distance, and scowled as he shook his head.
"'T is a good three miles through the woodland and round by the shore," he said:
" But there," he pointed beneath them where the amethyst waters lay,
" There is the shortest distance; I '11 swim it across the bay! "

Oh, Vikings' children are warriors, and their hearts are hearts of steel;
Yet Thor cried aloud with horror, and ground the dust with his heel,
As nearer the Golden Dragon the enemy's ship crept slow,
And all was peace at the homestead; unseen was the dreaded foe.

Into the dark green water, his face set firm, from the shore
Sprang Olaf, the son of Eric; and aghast stood his brothers four.
He swam like a very sea-snake, and his soul it knew no fear
While the shore behind him grew distant, and the homestead in front grew near.

Peacefully sat Lord Eric and laughed o'er his noontide meat,
When sudden, without, was clamor, and the sound of hurrying feet;
And at the great door young Olaf, all drenched and cold from the sea,
Cried, Father, the Golden Dragon!-they seize it! The enemy!"
Out poured Lord Eric's henchmen, and anger blazed in their eyes,
And the sun glints on their broadswords as each his good blade tries.
So instead of an easy capture, a raid and flight in a breath,
The foe saw a hundred warriors, their faces as stern as death.
They dared not meet them-the cravens!-and ere that a bolt had sped
Or a sword had been raised at the war-cry, they turned their prow and fled.

There was feasting that night at the homestead, and Olaf the boy was there,
With a mantle of blue on his shoulders and a twist of gold in his hair.
The mailed warriors pledged him, they gave him rich gifts and more:
And Eric and Svega were feasted, and Cynric and little Thor.
Then they rose, those fierce old Vikings, with a shout till the rafters rung,
" All honor to Thor and to Odin, and honor to Olaf the Young!"


668








.X,



- ( .. _


--;
cii 7


BUTTERFLY THOUGHTS.


DECATUR AND SOMERS.


CHAPTER III.
YOUNG LIEUTENANTS.


THE leave enjoyed by Decatur and Somers
was brief, and before the summer of 180o was
over they were forced to part. For the first
time in their young lives, their paths were to
diverge for a short while, and to be reunited in
the end. But their separation was for a reason
honorable to both. Decatur was appointed first
lieutenant in the frigate "Essex"-like most of
those early ships of the American navy, des-
tined to a splendid career. She was com-
manded by Captain Bainbridge, whose fate
was afterward strangely linked with that of his
young first lieutenant. The Essex was one of a
squadron of three noble frigates ordered to the
Mediterranean under the command of Com-


modore Richard Dale. And this Richard Dale
had been the first lieutenant of Paul Jones in
the immortal fight between the Bon Homme
Richard and the "Serapis." The association
with such a man as Commodore Dale was in-
spiration to an enthusiast like Decatur; and he
found also, to his joy, that Danny Dixon was
one of the quartermasters on the Essex.
Somers's appointment was to the "Boston," a
sloop-of-war carrying twenty-eight guns, com-
manded by Captain 'McNeill, one of the oddi-
ties of the American navy. He was an able sea-
man and a good officer, but he always insisted
upon conducting his cruise according to his
own ideas. This Somers found out the instant
that he stepped upon the Boston's deck at New
York. The Essex was at New York also; and
the two friends had traveled from Philadelphia






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


together. Out in the stream lay the frigate
"President," flying a commodore's pennant.
And although, being grand first luffs,' we
can't be shipmates, yet we '11 both be in the
same squadron, Dick!" cried Decatur.
"True," answered Somers, "and a Mediter-
ranean cruise! Think of the oldsters that
would like to go to Europe, instead of us
youngsters!" So their anticipations were cheer-
ful enough, each thinking their separation but
temporary, and that, for three years certainly,
they would serve in the same squadron.
The two friends reached New York late at
night, and early next morning each reported
on board his ship. The Essex was a small but
handsome frigate, mounting thirty-two guns,
and was lying close by the Boston at the dock.
Decatur's brief interview with Captain Bain-
bridge was pleasant, although formal. Captain
Bainbridge introduced him to the ward-room;
the steward showed him his room, and Decatur
realized that, at one bound, he had cleared the
gulf between the first place in the steerage and
the ranking officer in the ward-room. All this
took but an hour or two of time, and presently
Decatur found himself standing on the dock,
and waiting for Somers, who had left the Bos-
ton about the same time. As Somers ap-
proached, his usually somber face was smiling.
"What is it ? hallooed Decatur.
Somers took Decatur's arm before answering,
and, as they strolled along the busy streets near
the harbor, he told his story.
"Well, I went on board, and was introduced
into the captain's cabin. There sat Captain Mc-
Neill,-a red-headed old fellow with a squint;
but you could n't help knowing that'he is a man
of force. What he says is, like himself, very
peculiar.
"' Now, Mr. Somers,' said he, drawling, I
dare say you look forward to a gay time at the
Mediterranean ports, with all that squadron that
Dale has got to show off with?'
I was a good deal taken aback, but I said,
Yes, I did.
"' Very well, sir, make up your mind that you
won't have a gay time with that squadron!'
I was a good deal more taken aback, and,
being anxious to agree with the captain, I said it
did n't make any difference--I looked for more


work than play on a cruise. This did n't seem
to please Captain McNeill, either; so he banged
his fist down on the table, and said: No, you
don't, sir; no, you don't! You are no doubt
longing this minute to be on that ship,'-point-
ing out of the stern port at the President,-' and
to have that broad pennant waving over you.
But take a good look at it, Mr. Somers-take a
good look at it, Mr. Somers; for you may not see
it again.'
You may fancy how astonished I was; but,
when I went down into the ward-room, and
talked with the officers, I began to understand
the old fellow. It seems he hates to be under
orders. He has always managed to have an
independent command; but this time the navy
officials were too smart for him, and he -was
ordered to join Commodore Dale's squadron.
But he contrived to get orders so that he could
join the squadron in the Mediterranean, instead
of at Hampton Roads, where the other ships
are to rendezvous; and the fellows in the ward-
room say they would n't be surprised if they
never should see the flag-ship from the time
they leave home 'until they get back."
"That will be bad for you and me, Dick,"
said Decatur, simply.
"Very bad," answered Somers, feelingly.
Within a week the Boston was to sail, and one
night, about nine o'clock, wind and tide serv-
ing, the Boston slipped down the harbor to the
outer bay, whence at daylight she was to set sail
on her long cruise. Decatur bade Somers good-
by on the dock, and stood watching sorrowfully
while the ship swung round and headed for the
open bay, starting off like a ghostly ship in the
darkness.
At that moment Decatur felt perhaps the
strongest and strangest sense of loss he had ever
felt in his life. He had many friends,- James,
his brother, who had entered the navy, was near
his own age,-but Somers was his other self.
, This strange loneliness hung upon Decatur;
and, although his new duties and his new
friends were many, there were certain chambers
of his heart that remained closed to the whole
world-except to Somers. He found on the
Essex a modest young midshipman, Thomas
Macdonough, who reminded him so much of
Somers that Decatur became much attached to


670


[JUNE,






1894.] DECATUR AND SOMERS. u/
him. Macdonough, like Somers and Decatur, "Thunderer," flying British colors, while half
lived to make glorious history for his country. a dozen smaller war-ships looked like shallops
Within a few days the Essex sailed, in corn- alongside of this warlike monster, which car-
pany with the President (flag-ship), the Phila- ried a hundred and twenty guns, and a crew
delphia," and the schooner Enterprise." This of nearly a thousand men.



p,




/~7


THE "ENTERPRISE" CAPTURING THE TRIPOLITAN SHIP. (SEE PAGE 673.)


cruise was the beginning of that warfare against
the pirates of Tripoli which was to win the
commendation of the whole world. They
made a quick passage-for a squadron-to the
Mediterranean; and on a lovely July night the
squadron, with the flag-ship leading, passed Eu-
ropa Point, and stood toward the lion-like form
of the Rock of Gibraltar, that rose in stupen-
dous majesty before them. A glorious moon
bathed all the scene with light-the beautiful
harbor, with a great line-of-battle ship, the


At the extremity of the harbor lay a hand-
some frigate, and a brig, each flying the crescent
of Tripoli. The larger ship flew also the pen-
nant of an admiral. There being good anchor-
age between the Tripolitan and the British line-
of-battle ship, Commodore Dale stood in, and
the American squadron anchored between the
two.
Early next morning, Decatur went ashore in
the first cutter, by Captain Bainbridge's orders,
to find out the state of affairs with Tripoli. He


'IT,"






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


also hoped to hear some news of Somers, who reached the United States before the squadron
had sailed a week in advance. He heard start- left, the commodore was not justified in begin-
ling news enough about the Barbary pirates. ning hostilities until he had received formal no-
tice of the dec-
laration of war
from the home
government at
Washington.
Nevertheless,
the Tripolitans
and Americans
watchedonean-
other grimly,
in the harbor.
As for Somers,
Decatur was
bitterly disap-
pointed not to
find him. The
Boston had sail-
ed only the day
before.
Commodore
91 IDale determin-
ed to await or-
ders at Gibral-
tar, before mak-
ing a regular at-
S5 tack on Tripoli,
but he caused it
to be boldly an-
nounced from
the American
officers, mean-
while, that, if
the Tripolitans
wanted to fight,
all they had to
do was to lift
their anchors,
go outside and
back their top-
sails, and he
would be ready
for them.
Several weeks
THE iIEETING OF THE TWO YOUNG CAPTAINS. (SEE PAGE 675.) passed,and,ow-
The flagstaff of the American legation at Tripoli ing to the slowness of communication from home,
had been cut down, and war was practically no official declaration of war had reached them.
declared. But, as the information had not The squadron cruised about the Mediterranean,


[UNE,






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


giving convoy, and ever ready to begin active
hostilities as soon as called upon. The Tripoli-
tan pirates were still at work, whenever they dared;
but the watchful energy of the American squadron
kept them from doing much harm. Meanwhile,
the Boston was cruising about the same ground;
but whenever the squadron put into port, either
the Boston had just left, or she arrived just as
the squadron disappeared. This was very ex-
asperating to Commodore Dale; but, as Cap-
tain McNeill was ostensibly in hot pursuit of
the squadron, and always had some plausible
excuse for not falling in with it, the commodore
could do nothing but leave peremptory orders
behind him, which invariably failed to reach
Captain McNeill in time.
It was a cruel disappointment to both Deca-
tur and Somers, who had expected to be almost
as much together during this cruise of the squad-
ron as if they had been on the same ship.
After they had been thus dodging each other
for months, Decatur found at Messina, where
the Essex touched, the following letter from
Somers:
MY DEAR DECATUR: Here we are, going along with
a fair wind, while I am perfectly sure that the sail re-
ported off the starboard quarter is one of the squadron;
perhaps the Essex! As you know, Captain McNeill is-
apparently-the most anxious man imaginable to report
to his commanding officer; but if Commodore Dale
wins in this chase, he will be a seaman equal to Paul
Jones himself. For Captain McNeill is one of the very
ablest seamen in the world; and, much as his eccentrici-
ties annoy us, his management of the ship is so superb
that we can't but admire the old fellow. But I tell you,
privately, that he has no notion of taking orders from
anybody; and the commodore will never lay eyes on
him during the whole cruise. Nevertheless, he is doing
good service, giving convoy and patrolling the African
coast, so that the Barbary corsairs are beginning to be
afraid to show their noses when the Boston is about.
Here a break occurred, and the letter was
continued on the next page:
In regard to my shipmates, I find them pleasant fel-
lows; but still I feel, as I always shall feel, the loss of
your companionship, my dear Decatur. Perhaps, had I
a father or a mother, I should feel differently; but your
parents are the persons who have treated me with the
most paternal and maternal affection. As for you, we
have lived so long in intimacy that I can scarcely expect
to form another such friendship; indeed, it would be im-
possible, I am glad that you are becoming fond of
young Macdonough. Several of the midshipmen on


this ship know him, and speak of him as a young officer
of wonderful nerve and coolness. I only hope that
Macdonough, young as he is, may exercise some of that
restraint over you which you have always charged me
with, Decatur. You are much too rash, and I wish I
could convince you that there are occasions in every
officer's life when prudence is the very first and greatest
virtue. Of course, you will laugh at this, and remind
me of many similar warnings I have given you; but I
cannot help advising you-you know I have been
doing that ever since we were lads together at Dame
Gordon's school.
Here came another break, and a new date.
I was about to close my letter, when one of our offi-
cers got a letter from a friend on the Enterprise; and,
as it shows how the Barbary corsairs fight, I will tell
you a part of it. While running from Malta, on the first
of August, the Enterprise ran across a polacea-rigged
ship, such as the Barbary corsairs usually have, with an
American brig in tow, which had evidently been cap-
tured and her people sent adrift. Sterrett, who com-
manded the Enterprise, as soon as he found the position
of affairs, cleared for action, ran out his guns, and opened
a brisk fire on the Tripolitan. He got into a raking
position, and his broadside had a terrific effect upon the
pirate. But mark the next: three times the Tripol
itan colors were hauled down, and then hoisted again,
as soon as the fire of the Enterprise ceased. After the
third time, Sterrett played his broadside on the pirate
with the determination to sink him for such treachery;
but the Tripolitan rais, or captain, appeared in the waist
of his ship, bending his body in token of submission,
and actually threw his ensign overboard. Sterrett could
not take the ship as prize, because no formal declaration
of war had reached him from the United States. But
he sent Midshipman Porter-you remember David
Porter, who, with Rodgers, carried the French frigate
"L'Insurgente" into port, after Commodore Truxtun had
captured her?-aboard of the pirate, to dismantle her.
He had all her guns thrown overboard, stripped her of
everything except one old sail and a single spar, and let
her go with a message to the Bashaw of Tripoli, that
such was the way the Americans treated pirates. I un-
derstand that, when the rais got to Tripoli, with his one
old sail, he was ridden through a town on a donkey, by
order of the Bashaw, and received the bastinado; and
that, since then, the Tripolitans are having great trouble
in finding crews to man their corsair ships, because of
the dread of the "Americanos."
Now, I must tell you a piece of news, almost too good
to be true. I hear the government is building four
beautiful small schooners carrying sixteen guns, for use
in this Tripolitan war, which is to be pushed very ac-
tively, and that you, my dear Decatur, will command
one of these vessels, and I, another I can write noth-
ing more exhilarating after this, so, I am, as always,
Your faithful friend,
RICHARD SOMERS.


VOL. XXI.-85.


673






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


CHAPTER IV.
TWO YEARS LATER.
NEVER had the blue Mediterranean, and the
quaint old town of Syracuse and its fair harbor,
looked more beautiful than on a certain sunny
September afternoon in 1803. The green shores
of Sicily stretched as far as the eye could reach;
the white-walled town, with its picturesque and
half-ruined castle, lay in the foreground; while
looming up in the farthest horizon, was the
shadowy cone of Mount Etna, with its crown of
fire and smoke. The harbor contained a few
fishing-vessels, most of them motionless upon
the water, with their white lateen sails furled.
But, in the midst of all this placid beauty, lay
a war-ship,- the majestic "Constitution," the
darling frigate of her country, looking as if she
commanded everything in sight. Never was
there a more warlike-looking ship than Old
Ironsides." Her towering hull, which was higher
than the masts of most of the vessels in the
sunlit harbor, was, as with all American naval
ships, painted black. In striking contrast were
her polished decks, her shining masts and spars,
and her snowy canvas. Her ports were open
to admit the air; and through them could be
seen a double row of wicked-looking muzzles.
The other vessels rocked with the tide and wind,
but the great frigate seemed to stand perfectly
still, as if defying both wind and tide. Her
colors, too, caught some wandering puff of air,
and fluttered out proudly, while the other flags
in sight drooped languidly.
At anchor near her were two light but beau-
tiful schooner-rigged vessels, which also flew
American colors. They were precisely alike in
their lines, their rig, and the small but service-
able batteries they carried. On the stern of one
was gilded Nautilus, while on the other was
Siren. These were, indeed, the gallant little
vessels that Somers had written to Decatur
about, and his dream was realized. He com-
manded the Nautilus "; Stewart commanded
the "Siren"; while Decatur commanded the
"Argus," a sister vessel, which was hourly ex-
pected.
The quiet of the golden afternoon was broken
when around the headland came sailing another
small but beautiful cruiser, schooner-rigged, and


wearing American colors. As soon as she had
weathered the point of land, and had got fully
abreast of the Constitution, her guns roared
out a salute to the commodore's pennant flying
on the Constitution, which the frigate acknow-
ledged. The schooner had a handsome figure-
head, and on her stern was painted in gold
letters, Argus. She came to anchor in first-
class man-of-war style, close under the Consti-
tution's quarter; and, a few minutes later, her
gig was lowered, and her young commander,
Stephen Decatur, stepped into the boat, and
was pulled toward the Constitution. At that
time, neither he nor Somers was turned of
twenty-four, although both were commanding
officers.
As the gig shot past the Nautilus, Decatur
stood up and waved his cap at the officers; but
he observed that Somers was not among them,
and Decatur therefore thought that Somers was
at that moment on board the flag-ship. The two
had parted only six weeks before, when, Som-
ers's vessel being ready in advance of Decatur's,
he had sailed to join Commodore Preble's
squadron in the Mediterranean. The prospect
of seeing Somers again, raised Decatur's natur-
ally gay and jovial spirits to the highest pitch,
and he tried to distinguish among the officers
scattered about the Constitution's decks, the
handsome, lithe figure of his friend. While
watching the frigate, as he advanced toward
it, he saw another boat come alongside; an offi-
cer stepped out and ran lightly up the ladder,
while the boat pulled back to the shore. De-
catur was struck by the fact that this officer,
who was obviously a young man, wore two
epaulets. In those days, only flag-officers were
allowed to wear two, all others wearing but
one. Commodore Preble was, in fact, the only
man in the whole American fleet then in Euro-
pean waters who was allowed to wear two
epaulets. Decatur was much puzzled by the
officer's uniform; the only explanation that oc-
curred to him was that the gallant Preble had
been superseded, a thing which would have
filled him with regret. Although the commo-
dore was a stranger to him, Decatur had con-
ceived the highest respect for his abilities, and
had heard much of his vigor and enterprise, to
say nothing of his untamable temper, which at


674


[JUNE,






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


first the officers chafed under, but had soon come
to regard as Old Pepper's way-for so the
midshipmen had dubbed Commodore Preble.
The deck was full of officers, standing about,
enjoying the lovely afternoon; and they all
watched with interest the Argus's boat, knowing
it contained Decatur. While it was still a hun-
dred yards off, Decatur recognized the figure
of Somers running down the ladder; and, in
a few minutes, Decatur literally jumped into
Somers's arms. Their affectionate way of meet-
ing amused their shipmates very much, and
even Danny Dixon, who was Decatur's cox-
swain, grinned slyly at the men in the boat,
and whispered as the two young captains went
up the ladder together, their arms entwined like'
school-boys:
"They 're lovyers- them two be. They
keeps locks o' each other's hair, and picters
in their bosoms!"
The officers greeted Decatur warmly, among
them Macdonough, now a tall young fellow of
eighteen; but Decatur noticed that all of them
seemed convulsed with laughter. Lieutenant
Trippe, who was officer of the deck, laughed to
himself as he walked up and down; and even
the stolid marine, who stood guard at the hatch-
way, wore a broad smile. Two or three mid-
shipmen, loitering about, grinned appreciatively
at each other.
"Why, what 's the meaning of this hilarity,
Somers?" cried Decatur, observing a smile
even on Somers's usually grave countenance.
"Matter enough," responded Somers. "The
commodore needed a surgeon's mate for this
ship, so he succeeded in getting a little Sicilian
doctor for the place. He was entered on the
ship's books regularly under an acting appoint-
ment, and ordered to prepare his uniforms and
outfit, and report on board this afternoon.
Well, just now he came aboard, in full regalia,
with cocked hat and side arms; but, instead of
having one epaulet, he has two; and the com-
modore is n't the man to permit any equality
between himself and a surgeon's mate. The
little fellow has gone below, and-ha! ha!-
we are waiting for the explosion."
There was one of the midshipmen, though,
the youngest and smallest of them all, a bright-
faced lad of fourteen, who laughed as much


as the rest, but who looked, undoubtedly, a
little frightened.
"Mr. Israel, there," continued Somers, still
laughing, "was the officer to whom the doctor
applied for instructions about his uniforms, and
we are afraid that the commodore may call
upon Mr. Israel for an explanation."
I-I-don't know what I shall do," fal-
tered the little midshipman, "if Old Pepper-
I mean the commodore, should ask me. I 'm
sure I 'd never have the nerve to own up; and
I certainly can't deny that I did tell the doc-
tor he 'd look well in a cocked hat and two
epaulets."
Never mind, Pickle," said Macdonough,
clapping the boy on the shoulder; "you 're
always in mischief anyhow, so a little more or
less makes no difference. Captain Decatur, we
in the steerage do our best to reform Mr. Is-
rael, but he has a positive genius for getting
into scrapes."
"Queer thing that for a midshipman," an-
swered Decatur, with a wink at Captain Somers
as a reminder of their pranks when they were
reefers together on Old Wagoner."
Suddenly a wild yell was heard from be-
low. The next moment the unlucky Sicilian
dashed out of the cabin, hotly pursued by
Commodore Preble himself. The commodore
was six feet high, and usually of a grave and
saturnine countenance. But there was nothing
grave or saturnine about him now. He had
been in the act of shaving when the surgeon's
mate with the two epaulets appeared, and he
had not taken time to wipe the lather off his
face, or to take off his dressing-gown, nor was
he conscious that he was flourishing a razor in
his hand. The Sicilian, seeing the razor, and ap-
palled by the reception he had met, had taken
to his heels, and the commodore, bent upon hav-
ing an explanation, had followed, bawling:
"What do you mean, you lubberly apothe-
cary, by appearing before me in that rig ? Two
epaulets and a cocked hat for a surgeon's mate !
I got you, sir, to pound drugs in a mortar, not
to insult your superiors by getting yourself up
like a commodore! I '11 have you court-mar-
tialed, sir! No, sir-I '11 withdraw your appoint-
ment, and take the responsibility of giving you
the cat for your insolence."


675






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


The poor Sicilian darted across the deck,
and, still finding the enraged commodore at
his heels, suddenly sprang over the rail and
struck out swimming for the shore.
Commodore Preble walked back to where
the officers stood who had watched the scene,
ready to die with laughter, and shouted:
Mr. Israel, I believe you were the midship-
man, sir, to whom I directed that miserable
little pill-maker to go for information respect-
ing his uniforms?"
Yes, sir," answered Pickle, in a weak voice,
the smile leaving his countenance. The others
had assumed as serious an expression as they
were able, but kept it with difficulty. Not so
poor Pickle, who knew what it was to fall into
the commodore's hands for punishment.
And did you, sir, have the amazing effron-
tery, the brazen assurance, to advise that little
popinjay to put on two epaulets and a cocked
hat ?" roared the commodore.
"I I did n't advise him, sir," replied
Pickle, looking around despairingly; "but he
asked me-if I thought-two epaulets would
look well on him- and I said y-yes and-"
Go on, sir," thundered the commodore.
"And then I I told him, if he had two
epaulets he ought to have a cocked hat."
Mr. Israel," said the commodore, in a deep
voice, after an awful pause, you will go below,
and remain there until I send for you."
Poor Pickle, with a rueful countenance,
turned and went below.
Decatur, advancing with Somers, said:
"Commodore Preble, I have the honor of
presenting myself before you; and yonder is
my ship, the Argus."
It was now the commodore's turn to be con-
fused. With his strict notions of naval etiquette,
the idea that he should appear on the quarter-
deck half shaved and in his dressing-gown,
was thoroughly upsetting. He mumbled some
apology for his appearance, in which "that
rascally apothecary" and that little pickle of a
midshipman" figured; then, asking Captain
Decatur's presence in the cabin a few minutes
later, disappeared.
As soon as the commodore was out of hear-
ing the officers gathered about Decatur.
"That 's the same old Preble," said he,


"that I have heard of ever since I entered
the navy."
"Yes," answered Somers; "at first we hated
him; now there is not an officer in the squad-
ron who does not like and respect him. He is
a stern disciplinarian, and he has a temper like
fire and tow. But he is every inch a sailor,
and all of us will one day be proud to say
'I served under Preble at Tripoli!'"
The conversation then turned upon the dis-
tressing news of the loss of the frigate Philadel-
phia, one of the handsomest in the world, and
the capture of all her company by the Tripoli-
tans. While commanded by Bainbridge, De-
catur's old captain in the Essex, the Philadel-
phia had run upon a rock in the entrance to
the harbor of Tripoli, and, literally mobbed by
a Tripolitan flotilla, she was compelled to sur-
render. All her guns had been thrown over-
board, and every effort made to scuttle her
when the Americans saw that capture was in-
evitable; but it was with grief and shame that
the officers of the Constitution told Decatur
that the ship had been raised, her guns fished
up, her masts and spars refitted, and she lay
under the guns of the Bashaw's castle in the
harbor, flying the piratical colors of Tripoli at
her peak. If anything could add to the misery
of the four hundred officers and men belonging
to her,- it was the sight of her, so degraded,
which they could not but witness from the win-
dows of their dungeons in the Bashaw's castle.
Her recapture had been eagerly talked over
and thought over ever since her loss; and it
was a necessary step in the conquest of the
piratical power of the Barbary States, for she
would be a formidable enemy to any ship, even
the mighty Constitution herself.
When Decatur entered the commodore's i
cabin, Commodore Preble was a model of dig-
nity and courtesy. He at once began talking
with Decatur about tlh war with Tripoli.
"I have a plan, sir," said Decatur, after a
while, with a slight smile, "just formed since I
have been on this ship, but, nevertheless, enough
developed for me to ask your permission. It is
to cut out the Philadelphia as she now lies on
the harbor rocks at Tripoli. I hear that, when
Captain Bainbridge was compelled to haul down
his flag, he ordered the ship scuttled. Instead


676


[JUNE,





DECATUR AND SOMERS.


of that, though, only a few holes were bored in
her bottom, and there was no difficulty in patch-
ing them and raising her."
Commodore Preble answered:
"Certainly, the ship must be destroyed for
the honor of the flag; and it will also be a
measure of prudence in the coming campaign
against the fleet and town of Tripoli. But as to
cutting her out -that is an impossible thing."
I think not, sir," answered Decatur, with
equal firmness.
"You think not, Captain Decatur, because
you are not yet twenty-five years old. I think
to the contrary because I am more than forty.
The flag will be vindicated if the Philadelphia
is destroyed, and never permitted to sail under
Tripolitan colors. Anything beyond that, -it
would be foolish to attempt."
"Well, sir," said Decatur, "may I ask the
honor of being the one to make the attempt? My
father was the Philadelphia's first commander."
No doubt all of my beardless captains will
ask the same thing," answered the commodore,
with a grim smile; "but, as you have spoken
first, I shall consider you have the first claim."
"Thank you, sir," answered Decatur, rising;
" whenever you are ready to discuss a plan, I
shall be gratified." And he returned to the deck.
As Decatur felt obliged to return to his ship,
Somers went with him, and, saying good-by to
the officers on the Constitution, the two friends
were soon pulling across the placid harbor.
At dinner, as they sat opposite each other in
the cabin, with a hanging lamp between, Deca-
tur, who was overflowing with spirits, noticed
that Somers was, now and then, more than
usually grave.
What ails you, man ?" cried Decatur.
"Are you disappointed about anything?"
Yes," answered Somers, with a very rueful
countenance. You will be the one to go upon
the Philadelphia expedition. The rest of us will
have to hang on to our anchors while you are
doing the thing we all want to do. I had a
presentiment as soon as you went down in the
commodore's cabin. Here are the rest of us,
who have been wanting to speak of this thing
for weeks, and watching one another like hawks,
but all afraid to beard the lion in his den; but
you, with your cool impudence,--just arrived,


never saw the commodore in your life before,-
you go and plump out what you want at your
first interview, and get it, too. Oh, I guessed
the whole business, as soon as I saw you come
out of the cabin! "
"You are too prudent, by half, Dick," cried
Decatur, laughing at Somers's long face. Now,
if I had taken your advice about prudence, I
never would have got the better of you."
Then began questions about their shipmates.
Decatur was lucky enough to have, as his first-
lieutenant, James Lawrence, who was afterward
to give the watchword to the American navy-
"Don't give up the ship!" Decatur also had
Danny Dixon as his first quartermaster. James
Decatur was in the squadron, although not in
the Argus.
The two young officers went on deck, where
they found Danny, whom Somers went forward
to greet. Danny was delighted to see him, and
could not touch his cap often enough to express
his respect for Somers's new rank.
"Lor', Cap'n Somers, I remembers you and
Cap'n Decatur as reefers aboard o' Old Wag-
oner, and now I sees you both commandin'
smart vessels, like the Airgus and the Nartilus."
Yes, yes," said Somers, kindly; "and we
have a fine lot of young reefers here now."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Macdonough, he 's a fine
young gentleman; and there 's a little 'un they
calls Mr. Pickle Israel, 'cause he 's allers in a
scrape o' some sort. But he ain't got no flunk
at all in him, and the men says as how, when
it's work or fighting' to be done, that this little
midshipmite is right on top. And we 've got as
fine a lot o' young officers as ever I see. No
ladybirds among 'em,-all stormy petrels, sir."

Some days passed in giving the men on the
Argus liberty, and in making ready for a cruise
to Tripoli, which was to precede the great at-
tack. The bomb vessels, and many of the.
preparations necessary for the great struggle
with the pirates, were not completed, and would
not be for some time; but Commodore Preble
wisely concluded to give the Tripolitans a sight
of his force, and also to encourage Captain
Bainbridge and his companions in captivity, by
the knowledge that their country had not for-
gotten them.


677


(To be continued.)


Mall), Ellit Seawell.~











;,~,S


~t~


IF I tell you the story of the little dryad,
you must not question any of the foundation
facts. So I will just state briefly that two for-
tunate little girls, named Janet and Prue, had
a golden chariot with wings at the corners,
drawn aloft in the air by two large and beauti-
ful birds, who wore a light golden harness, and
who could fly with inconceivable rapidity to
incredible distances. In this chariot, Janet and
Prue (the conditions being perfect-such as les-
sons learned, tasks done, and mother permit-
ting) could rest upon silken cushions, and go
whithersoever they would.
On one particular day, it was Prue's great de-
sire to go to some beautiful island, where it was
always warm, and where there were cocoanuts
and oranges growing; some lovely, lonely, tropi-
cal island with no savages. So they called the
birds, and in a moment more were rising over the
tree-tops in the golden chariot. They passed rap-
idly over gardens, orchards, forests, mountains,
rivers, and over the great blue sea. At last, the
chariot began to descend, and they saw beneath
them an island, and trees loaded with fruit.
They found the sand strewn with bits of
coral and numbers of delicate little shells; and
on the land near by, the grass grew luxuriantly,


and there were a great many beautiful flowers,
with brilliant butterflies hovering around them.
Birds of gorgeous plumage flew overhead, now
and then alighting and looking at the children
with unterrified eyes. One gaily colored ma-
caw, in particular, seemed determined to keep
in their neighborhood, and whatever way they
turned, he would almost immediately appear on
some rock or shrub close by.
"I wish I could talk to him," said Prue.
It was early in the afternoon, and the sun
shone with such heat that Janet said they had
better walk in the shade. They took a little
path which led them in a roundabout way
among the trees, and presently brought them
into an orange-grove, where the oranges grew
as thick as the apples in their father's apple-
orchard at home.
After gathering the ripest and yellowest that
they could reach, they sat down on a shady
bank, a happy party of two. The oranges were
so sweet and so refreshing that it seemed as if
they could never have enough. The macaw,
perched on a branch close by, was watching
them, and there were birds-of-paradise and hum-
ming-birds coming and going all the time.
All at once the macaw screamed so loudly


:;a BY MARY L. B. BRANCH.

MY dream is of an island place
Which distant seas keep lonely;
A little island on whose face
The stars are watchers only.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.






THE LITTLE DRYAD.


that Janet and Prue started up in terror, and
hastily concealed themselves behind some
bushes, almost holding their breath in the effort
to keep perfectly still. But nothing alarming
followed. There was only the breeze rustling
the leaves ever so faintly, the mute fluttering
of the butterflies, the soft, low chance note of
a bird. The macaw stepped down upon the
ground and hopped about, as if uncertain
which way to go.
Suddenly, in the trunk of a palm-tree near by,
a window appeared to open, the bark parting
like blinds, and the sweetest, merriest face in
the world peeped out.
Can't you find them ?"
These words were spoken in a musical, teas-
ing voice. The macaw, in reply, shook his
head sadly.
"Well, never mind, I '11 come down there
for a little while myself."
And now a little figure crept out through
the palm-tree window, and with a quick spring
alighted on the grassy turf in the very spot
where, a short time before, the feast of oranges
had been held. This new-comer was a little
girl with brown eyes, brown hair that twisted
and curled like vine-tendrils, and she was
dressed in a scant gown of changeable green
and woodcolor.
"They have left me at least one, I am glad
to see! she said joyously, picking up, as she
spoke, an orange that lay on the grass. The
macaw was still hopping and peering uncer-
tainly about.
Oh, you need n't look any longer!" ex-
claimed the little girl. "They are safe inside
of their trees by this time. I only wish I knew
which trees they belong in," she added, with a
sigh, "because then we might talk across to
one another sometimes on moonlight nights."
Suddenly the macaw screamed, and she
darted to the palm-tree; but in a moment more
she ran out again, and said, laughing:
"Why did you scream, Macaw? There is
nothing here! Did you think they were com-
ing back? I wish they would; I am so lonely
here with nobody but Grandmother."
Here we are! exclaimed two merry voices
together, and there, all of a sudden, were Janet
and Prue, holding the little palm-tree girl's


hands in their hands, and pressing their warm,
rosy lips against her cheeks.
You are such a darling! said Janet.
"Why, where did you come from ?" asked
the little girl. Do you live in any of these
trees close by? I never saw you before."
Live in trees! laughed Janet. "Why,
what do you take us for?"
"Are n't you dryads?" the little one said,
looking startled. Iam a dryad, and I thought
you were some of my cousins from the trees on
the bank! "
Oh, no! said Prue, "we are not dryads.
But we saw you come out of that tree. How
did you do it?"
"That is my home," said the little dryad,
wonderingly. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I have
made a mistake. My old grandmother told me
never to leave my tree unless other dryads were
out, and now she will give me a scolding.
There! She sees me!"
Janet and Prue glanced where she pointed,
and there, from the trunk of a very old fig-tree,
peered a stem, dark face, and a hand beckoned
imperatively.
"Oh, don't go back!" entreated Janet, as the
little dryad hesitated. A mischievous, rebel-
lious gleam came into the pretty brown eyes.
I won't go back!" she said; I '11 pretend I
don't see her. I 've never been away from under
these trees in my life, and I 've always wanted
to go down on the shore and see the waves."
Well, let 's go now," said Prue. And away
they ran, all three of them, taking hold of
hands. The macaw flew screaming after them,
and from a great many of the trees that they
passed startled faces seemed to look out.
But the little dryad only laughed mockingly,
and did not once stop running until she reached
the sandy shore. There she stood, looking out
on the sea, the blue, billowy sea, with its great,
pulsating waves, fringed with foam.
"See the dear little shells down under your
feet," said Prue.
The child-dryad stooped and gathered a few,
silver and rose colored. Then she took up
some of the shining sand, and sifted it through
her fingers. I wish I could live in a rock or
a shell," she said wistfully. "Then I would
stay here forever!"


679






THE LITTLE DRYAD.


Do dryads have names?" asked Prue. I
wonder if there are any in the trees near our
house !"
"My name is Sylvie,'' answered the little
one. "Why don't you live in trees yourselves ?"
The girls laughed merrily. "We do live in a
house of trees," said Prue; but the trees had
to be cut down first and sawed into boards."
"There I knew you were a sort of dryad!"
exclaimed Sylvie. "Where is your house ? "
Oh! it is in another country, far away!"
said Janet, earnestly; "and I do wish you
would let us take you there. There is an old
pear-tree in the corner of our yard, by the stone
wall, and I know there is n't any dryad living
in it, for when I stand on tiptoe on the wall I
can just manage to look down in a deep hole
there is in the trunk, and it is all dark and'
empty. I dropped some little stones in there
one day. Can't you come and live in that
tree ? We will come there and play with you
every day."
Oh, do, do, do!" entreated Prue, throwing
her arms about the little dryad and kissing her.
I wonder if I dare! said the little dryad,
thoughtfully.
"Oh, please, please, do!" chorused Janet
and Prue. The macaw, who had mounted a
gray rock close by, flapped his wings and
screamed warningly.
I believe I will go," said Sylvie, "if only to
get away from the macaw. I will go and live
in your pear-tree. But how can you take me?"
In our chariot," said Janet, eagerly. Prue,
call the birds, and we will go at once!"
In a few moments more they were all three
seated in the chariot, and rising gently in the
air. Sylvie looked down upon the beautiful
island which had always been her home.
"Good-by, sisters! Good-by, Macaw!" she
said, and there was just a little sadness in her
voice; but still she wanted to go.
Away over sea and land, over mountains and
valleys, onward the chariot sped, and the sun
was not yet setting when it came softly to the
ground, right among the hollyhocks in the yard
by the little brown cottage. Sylvie was pale
and trembling as she stepped out.
"The pear-tree, quick, quick!" she whis-
pered; "I am so frightened here!"


Janet and Prue hastened with her to the
corner by the stone wall, and the instant she
reached the tree she sprang lightly up to the
opening in the trunk, and immediately disap-
peared in it. The girls waited a little while,
and then called anxiously, "Sylvie! Sylvie!"
Presently her face appeared at the opening,
and she looked more at her ease.
It is very nice in here," she said, though
I think no one has lived here for a long time."
Mama is calling us in," said Janet, "so we
must go now. But we will come to-morrow
morning, and bring things with us, and play.
Good night."
Good night, "replied Sylvie, drawing in her
pretty head.
When Janet and Prue went to bed that night,
the last thing they said before going to sleep
was: Oh, how very nice it is to have a little
dryad of our own !"
When they awoke in the morning, their first
thought was of Sylvie; but their mother wanted
their help about getting breakfast and clearing
it away, so that it was not until the dew was
nearly dry on the grass that they made their
way to the old hollow pear-tree, carrying in
their hands a doll, a picture-book, a cup of milk,
and a piece of cake.
"Sylvie Sylvie !" they called, and instantly
her bright little face appeared at the opening.
Come down and play," they said. "See, we
have brought things for you."
The little dryad laughed. I don't care for
things like those," she said; "but I should like
to run about over the grass, and I should like
to see your house."
She sprang down, bringing in her hand a
string of beads, which Janet hailed with delight.
"I lost them ever so long ago," she said;
"but I did not know they were down in the
pear-tree. I must have dropped them there."
Prue pointed out the window of the room
where she and her sister slept. A wistaria vine
had grown up higher than the window-sill.
Come into the house," she said, "and we
will take you up-stairs."
"These are my stairs on the outside," said
Sylvie, quickly; "I am afraid to go up any
way but my own."
And running to the vine, she climbed it with


68o


[JUNE,






1894.]


THE LITTLE DRYAD.


E Uii i d -i l, tnt- l t it-r
5LFnL 0 iii; Unit r c
'*O'l! i !" beFe'.r she ie .s .ail in-
side tile u'i ,Jl.ul ni',, :in lrl! djto n
at th,,in.
T ip ,: I o --lr[ ,-, tl, : iUt i" l ., 1.








ST 4114
3 j -


4', 4 ,'i _
S't4-S
L W. L 'then l t,

,i Ato ,-r i lr lil

"AWAY THEY RAN, ALL THREE, TAKING HOLD OF HANDS." wondered at, an
(SEE PAGE 679.) that Prne made h,


VOL. XXI.- 86-87.


":i\ -I i.:l d i 0n11 d -i l% e in
their little Ldll.:!ianiL.r,
Ilheie r~ l\ b_-3an tto like
CLrit ,,rti ti-: : i tir. tt r .,rin -
ith er to.: s-i : to liver. But
SLi I e ,dhi no *t '.-in t,.i l:,c
irnirrered i tLiher Suinday
bi:inets rd then tu l:,t rib-
ughelid T itl nrerr 'in r-hir, :it
er, her .-ic ,:es ai ,':l. oti.:. i r, in .
" it k' et. Bl.it tlitei \iai a
Sol of P-'ru-'.s thiit slie at first
d then took such delight in
er a present of it on the spot.


681


Nd


A)


~~'w"' "'






THE LITTLE DRYAD.


While Janet and Prue were thus occupied
with their guest, their mother called them to
dinner. This startled Sylvie, but when she re-
treated toward the window, the girls seized her
good-naturedly and compelled her to go down
with them. They would have had her sit be-

"'r" r 'y/
ij | /


THE DRYAD'S STAIRWAY.


tween them at the table, but the little wood-
land dryad, slipping from their grasp, sprang
through the doorway, over the step, and across
the grassy yard, with a speed so swift that they
could not overtake her, and by the time they
reached the pear-tree she was already safely
hidden within it, and just barely peeping out.
Come and play with us! they cried.
"I can't play any more to-day," she said,
wearily, ."I am too tired."
"Poor little thing! said Janet, compassion-
ately. "Well, never mind; we will come again
for you to-morrow."
Yes, to-morrow," answered the little dryad,


and her voice breathed so much sadness that it
quite haunted the girls for the rest of the day.
But oh, how many secret plans they made about
her! They were so glad that they had brought
her away from the island, and that they had her
safe in their own pear-tree.
"We will keep her dressed just like our-
selves," said Janet, "and we will teach her
how to sew and mend."
"Yes, and teach her to read," said Prue,
"and have her learn the multiplication-table."
And then they planned which of their things
they would give her. They thought they
would let her have some of their story-books,
and cut out work for her, and let her help
weed the flower-beds. And maybe they could
have their picture taken all together.
The next morning, as early as possible, Janet
and Prue hastened to the pear-tree, and Janet
called Sylvie Sylvie "
But there was no answer. No bright little
face peeped out of the hollow trunk above her.
Janet called again and again, and so did Prue.
They called kindly, and then impatiently, and
then coaxingly, and finally they commanded
her, but all in vain. There was no answer, no
little face, and a strange dread crept over them.
"Let 's climb up and look in," said Janet.
I 'm afraid," whispered Prue.
So Janet climbed up with some difficulty,
but could see nothing in the deep, dark hollow.
She 's run away! said Janet, dropping to
the ground and looking at Prue with a very
sober face.
"Yes, she must have," sighed Prue.
I suppose, maybe," said Janet, thoughtfully,
"she did not like to go into houses and do the
way other folks do."
I 'm sorry we tried to make her," said Prue; I
she could have played with us in the fields."
"Well, anyhow, she has carried off that green
parasol," said Janet.
"That 's good!" exclaimed Prue. "It will
make her remember us."
They felt so depressed at the loss of their
little dryad that they did not play very much
that day; but in the afternoon they took a walk
up the woody hill behind the house, for it
seemed to them as if they might perhaps find
Sylvie hiding there.


682


[JUNEB,






THE LITTLE DRYAD.


683


They pushed on and on, with scarcely any "Oh, no! murmured the little dryad, with
path; but they did not mind the underbrush, a shudder. I do not like your houses nor your
and the air was sweet, and the birds sang over- roads. I am afraid of the men and wheels,
head. Every little while they called, "Sylvie! and the dreadful noises and tramping. I love
Sylvie!" very gently; but there was no answer, you dearly, little sisters, but I must stay among
only the singing of the birds, the trees with my own people."
After climbing the hill for an hour, they "Are there other dryads here?" asked Janet,
found the trees growing farther apart, and looking about her anxiously.
among them rocks covered with gray lichens The little dryad nodded. Plenty of them,"
on which the sun shone. The girls sat down she whispered,. "but they don't want you to
to rest on one of these rocks, know it. If you come here hunting for them,
"This is a very pretty place," said Prue. they will all go away to other forests, where no
"See that little brook running over a rock." human foot ever treads. But they love this
"If Sylvie came here, she would like it too spot, and I love it too. I found just the home
well to go any farther," said Janet. Was it
a light ripple of laughter the, hard. '
or only the plash of the shaill.:..
shining brook ? They looked I
before them, behind them. I l
and on every side, but the
sound had ceased. ri
What is that big green Ir
leaf in the side of that birch- t
tree away over there ? asked inle.
Prue. It does n't look like
a birch-leaf! "
"We '11 find out!" said Z.
Janet,' springing up. They
ran together toward the tree, 'J
and when half-way there :Ir i
Janet cried: '
"Why, it's your green para- I J I IF
sol, Prue, a true s you live!" /
"Then Sylvie is there! .
Oh, Sylvie! Sylvie!" ex- .- .- -:.-
claimed Prue, eagerly. .g -
When they reached "
the tree and stopped, .'
breathless, the parasol 'L~
moved a little, was "', .
closed and drawn in,
and in another instant ,' ;, ,. .'.
Sylvie herself peeped I!
out at them, timid and Pill ,I
smiling.
"Why did you run
away ? demanded Janet. "'PLEASE COME AND PLAY,' COAXED PRUE."
"Do come back!" pleaded Prue. "We have for me in this tree as soon as I reached it
not shown you the pretty pasture nor the river- last night."
banks. Do come to the pear-tree again Please come and play," coaxed Prue.





THE LITTLE DRYAD.


But the little dryad shook her head.
I cannot play with you any more," she said,
a little sadly. I must never come out again
except when the dryads call me. I dare not
venture. But I love this spot, and I shall live
here happily, only you must not come here
to frighten the dryads, or we shall all depart
together."
"Oh, dear!" said Prue, with tears in her
eyes, "I did not want to lose you!"
Janet argued and entreated, but all in vain.
The little dryad grew still more firm, and at
last drew her pretty curly head down quite
out of sight.
The girls waited under the birch-tree and
called her many times, but she would not show
herself again; so at length, as the sun was get-
ting low and clouds were gathering, they slowly
left the place to go down the hill, homeward


bound. As they entered the denser part of
the forest, they heard far behind them a sweet
little voice calling:
Good-by! "
They turned and caught one last glimpse of
Sylvie. Prue said afterward that she was sure she
saw other pretty faces peeping from other trees.
"Good-by !" the two girls called back in re-
ply, and then hand in hand they ran down the
hill as fast as the underbrush would let them,
and were glad when they saw the smoke curling
up from the chimney of their own home, where
they knew their dear mother was getting sup-
per for them.
I like my own folks! said Janet, as they
entered the yard.
"So do I," said Prue; "but I like Sylvie
too, and I am so sorry she could n't stay in
the pear-tree!"


-Z






VERY GOOD TIMES.

BY E. L. S.


THE best time I can
recollect,"
Said the boy from
across the street,
Was when we played
the Spartan nine,
! The day that our
side beat."

"My best fun was a


year ago,"
Said the boy who never will fight,
" When father and I went fishing once,
And slept outdoors all night."

"Well," said the boy from the corner house,
"The jolliest time for me,


Was the summer they took me on a yacht,
And we lived six weeks at sea."


" And
Said
"Was
And


the greatest fun I ever had,"
the boy who lives next door,
sailing down the river once,
camping out on shore."


" The very best time I ever had,"
Said the boy with the reddish hair,
"Was in Chicago, last July-
The time I went to the Fair."

"It seems to me," said the lazy boy
(And his cap he thoughtfully thumps),
"That the very best time, in all my life
Was the week I had the mumps."


i~i~b









A RUSSIAN SCHOOL.
THERE lived a lad in Moscow,
Named Ivanitch Pacoskow,
Who went to school
And followed rule
Of old Professor Boskow.


His comrades were Wyzinkski,
And Feodor Duchinkski,
And Scarrovitch,
And Polonitch,
And Paderew Polinkski.


It took Professor Boskow
Full half a day in Moscow
To call the roll
And name each soul
Who came to him in Moscow.


To read and write did Boskow
Next teach the lads in Moscow,
But called to spell
They did rebel,
So queer were names in Moscow.













THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.
(Sixth paper of the series, Quadrupeds of North America.")

By W. T. HORNADAY.


THIS time we have a party of strangers to
introduce. Excepting the Racoon himself, all
the members of his family (Procyonide) are
about as little known to the average American
boy and girl as the aardvark. The reason for
this is that unless we go to the Southwest, and
Mexico, we cannot see them in a state of
nature, and very few persons have taken the
trouble to write about them for us. But they
are very curious and interesting creatures, and
should be better known.
I never shall forget how a lady once mys-
tified me with a description of a little animal
she owned--all but its name. She had pur-
chased it of a dealer in wild animals in New
York, who could not name it, even for money;
and she had owned it a month and asked a
dozen people without getting even a good sug-
gestion as to its name. She described the little
creature to me as "about so long" (head and
body, fifteen inches; tail, sixteen), with a prehen-
sile tail. "No; it is not a monkey, for it has n't
got feet like a monkey:" No; it 's not an
opossum of any kind." "No; it is n't a silky
ant-eater, for it's too big." No; it's not a
prehensile-tailed porcupine, for its fur is soft";
and so on, until I was at my wit's end.
Finally, she sent the living conundrum to
me by express, and it was a KINKAJOU. Man-
like, I had thought
KINKAJOU.
(Cer-co-leftes cau-di-volu-us.) of nearly every mam-
mal that is found in
North America except the right one !
He had been gentleness itself with his gentle
mistress, but he seemed to expect different
treatment from the masculine Philistines into
whose hands he had fallen, and at first he
scratched and bit as if his life depended upon
it. But gradually he became quite docile, and
lived with us on the best of terms-and ba-


nanas-for several. months. He sat for his
photograph one day, and all his points were
well taken.
In personal appearance the Kinkajou (pro-
nounced kink'-a-jew) looks very much like a
little woolly haired, golden-brown monkey (or
lemur, to be more exact) with a prehensile tail.
It has a head like a pine-marten, with very
large black eyes. His teeth have caused natu-
ralists to class him as a carnivore, in sublime
indifference to the fact that he is a fruit-eater,
both when wild and in captivity, and would
soon starve upon a meat diet. It is quite prob-
able, however, that when at home he devours
eggs and small birds, as do so many arboreal
mammals of the tropics. Nature has made
many queer combinations, and this little crea-
ture is one of them. Very little is known of its
habits in a wild state, because it is as strictly
nocturnal as an owl. In captivity he preferred
to sleep all day rolled up in a ball, with his
head resting on the soft coil of his coiled-up
tail. He used to clamber over me with great
freedom and confidence, often encircling my
neck with his tail to steady himself, and hold
on. In Central America this little animal is
often tamed, and makes a very satisfactory pet.
The home of the Kinkajou is in the hottest
portion of the American tropics. It is found
from Central America southward through Gua-
temala, Costa Rica, and northern South Amer-
ica to the Rio Negro and Peru. In Costa Rica
it is called MARTILLA, or Little Marten; in
Mexico it is the MARTICA, and in Guatemala it
is called MICOLEON. It lives almost wholly in
the trees, and makes its nest in a hollow trunk.
But if the Kinkajou was a riddle not to be
solved by a stuffer of animals from a verbal des-
cription, what shall we say of the quadruped
that has been wrongly identified and misnamed






THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.


by scientific writers nearly thirty times (so says
Dr. J. A. Allen) since the great Linneus first
described it in 1766 ? The COATI MONDI seems
to have been created for the
COATI MONDI. special purpose of confusing
(Nas'u-a nari-ca.)
( as' anwi.) and humiliating the tech-
nical naturalists. He has "taken a fall" out of
every zoologist who has
wrestled with him, from
the days of Linneus,
who gave him the gen-
eric name of the Civet
Cat, down to Dr. Allen.
He has successfully
floored Frenchmen,
Germans, Dutchmen,
Englishmen, and Am-
ericans. At last, in
1879, Dr. Allen threw
him fairly, named him
correctly, and put him
in the place where he
really belongs.
The Latin name of
this animal is Nasua
narica, which being
freely and truthfully
translated means
"Nosey"! And he de-
serves it. His muzzle
is drawn out into a
long, slender snout like
that of an ant-eater,
almost prehensile in
character, and of great
value in seeking food.
It is so elastic that
when he needs to get
it out of his way in
eating or drinking, he
can turn it straight up
at a right angle with
his face; and yet it
possesses sufficient
strength to be used in rooting up the ground
in quest of grubs or worms, like the snout of
a pig, and its ambition is to get into every-
thing above-ground.
The COATI MONDI is indeed a strange ani-
mal, both in form and habits. In shape he is


like a miniature bear, all excepting his long
and pointed muzzle and his remarkable tail.
Shorten the one and cut off the other, and you
will have a very good bear, although, it may
be, a trifle too short in the legs to suit the fas-
tidious. He is flat-sided, bow-legged in his
fore legs, with a massive forearm, beady black


THE KINKAJOU.
eyes, a very restless disposition, and a shrill
squeak for a cry in captivity. In size the
fully grown animal is about the size of a fox-
terrier. His hair is long and full, but rather
harsh, and its prevailing color is chestnut-
brown above and pale yellow underneath.


687






THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.


The nose itself is very dark brown in color, and
the eyes are set in the middle of conspicuous
white patches, suggesting the glasses of a pair of
spectacles. The ears are small and quite bear-
like in shape.
The tail of this animal is a truly wonderful
appendage, and as used by the living animal
always makes me think of a snake. It is nearly


He described it as one of the feline animals,
calling it warracaba tiger," which at that
time threw me completely off the track of its
identity. Paulie said it was the fiercest of all
South American animals, and always hunted
in packs strong enough to overcome and de-
vour everything that came in their way. They
could climb trees in search of their prey as


THE COATI MONDI, OR NASUA NARICA.
as long as the head and body, very thick at well as any cat, could descend a tree head
the base, from which it tapers down regularly first, and their bands swept through the forest
to the end where it terminates in a sharp, snake- like a devouring army, uttering a low, grunting
like point. In young specimens it is sometimes noise as they went. He told me how he and
ornamented with several dark rings, like the some other hunters, while encamped on the
tail of a racoon, but these disappear almost bank of a river at night, were aroused by the
entirely in the full-grown animals, sound of an approaching band of warracaba
When I was in British Guiana, Paulie, a na- tigers. Springing from their hammocks they
tive hunter whom I had for a companion in fled to their canoes, abandoning everything,
the jungle, told me strange tales of a fierce and paddled for mid-stream. When the cy-
wild animal that inhabited those forests, strange clone of teeth and claws had passed, they re-
in form, active in habits, and terrible in temper, turned to their plundered camp to find it a


688


[JUNE,






THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.


complete wreck. Everything eatable had dis-
appeared, fruit and vegetables as well as meat.
He had never killed one of these fearful ani-
mals, and in fact had never seen one, nor even
the skin of one, for no hunter of his acquain-
tance had ever dared to attempt to kill one
of these unknown terrors. So far as Paulie
knew, the creature had never been seen by a
white man!
Well, this fearful (!) creature was simply our
old friend, the Coati Mondi, magnified by igno-
rance and fear. Paulie's account of its habits was
quite truthful in every re-
spect, save that its fierce-
nesswasmagnified about
ioo diameters; andwhen
I saw one chained to a :
box and kept as a pet
in the courtyard of a
house in the city of ._a
Bolivar, I little dreamed
that so friendly and play-
ful a creature could ever
acquire such an evil
reputation. This was
the Brazilian species, or
Red Coati Mondi. Ours
is the Mexican Coati
Mondi, called TEJON
by the Mexicans, a
trifle larger than the
other, which inhabits
the whole region from
Southern Texas to Pan-
ama, where the home
of the other species be-
gins. In Costa Rica
and Guatemala, where
it is called the PISOTO, -0
it is found very frequent- "
ly in the mountain for-
ests, often at an eleva-
tion of 6000 to 7000 .
feet. Mr. Belt, the '7
naturalist, often saw
them in the forests of
Nicaragua hunting big
tree-climbing lizards called iguanas. When the
Pisoto hunted alone, and climbed for his game,
the iguanas would always drop to the ground


and escape; but when the Pisotos hunted in a
band, the unfortunate iguana would fall from his
enemy in the tree only to land in the hungry
jaws waiting below.
The Coati Mondi is easily tamed, and is of-
ten kept in captivity. Mr. Samuel Lockwood
once published in the Popular Science Monthly
(1872) a most interesting and amusing account
of the life and adventures of a Nosey" that
he had kept as a pet. Judging from his des-
cription I should say it would be hard to find
among wild quadrupeds a more interesting or
amusing pet than this species.
i-I ,...',N is tih.- inim l ne t in oIr .I,
,.-, ... .- anJ tle t ype o:i this Ihnu l,
L.ut Ih, i: ,ell krno ii it -eernrs ilm .:t uit-
re.,c.:s r, to: pau. in lront .-.1 hii cage.


~r.t


THE RACOON.
For who does not know this cunning, mischiev-
ous, good-tempered rogue, that stretches his
hairy arms far out between the bars of his


689






THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.


cage, and offers you the black paw of good-
fellowship whenever you come near him?
His beady black eyes twinkle at you over
his cunningly pointed nose, and their expres-
sion is, "Say, old fellow! You and I are
good friends, and won't you just get me out of
this?-or at least give me something new
to eat?" The temper of this animal is most
amiable, and, being easily fed, he makes a very
satisfactory pet.
There are many things about the Coon that
I always liked, one of which is the good sense
he shows about his rations. He will eat any-


--
-_ rluing uin r dte un that
-- is good, from a live rabbit
Down to green corn. He
CRAB-EATING RACOONS.
is n't always sticking up
his nose at what is set before him on the table,
as do some American boys and girls, and say-
ing, I can't eat this! or I don't like that! "
but whenever food is put before him, he im-


mediately sets to work to get outside of it. In
a wild state he is fond of fruit of all kinds.
He loves fresh-water clams, salt-water oysters,
eggs, young birds, fish, crabs, frogs, grubs, and
when green corn is in season, the farmers' fields
pay heavy tribute to the ring-tailed marauders.
The Racoon is very fond of paddling in
water, and of dipping his food into water before
eating it, whence comes his Latin name of
lotor, meaning "washer." The Germans call
him the "Washing Bear," which is by no
means a bad name. His true home is the
heavily timbered regions of the southern and
eastern United States,
especially where there
are swamps. His home
is a hollow tree, and his
yearly family consists of
either four, five, or six
little Coons, even more
S. cunning in appearance
Than himself. In .the
S, West he ranges from
'' Oregon to southern
Alaska. If our space
permitted, something
should be said of the
great .American pas-
S time of coon-hunting;
but another stranger
claims our attention.
I wonder how many
of our boys and girls
have ever heard of the
NORTHERN CIVET CAT
(Bas-sar'is as-tu'ta),
or CACOMISTLE, of the
southwestern United
'- States. I did not
Really make its ac-
quaintance until I was
over twenty-five years
ol,. chief\ nbe:au-e 1io one took the trouble to
write about it in anything that was accessible
to me. This lively little creature has not so
many common names as it has hairs in its tail,
but it has very nearly. Look at the array, for
it is a curious collection:
Cacomiztli, or Caca-mixtli (Bush Cat), of
the Mexicans; Tepe-maxtla (Rush Cat), of the


690


[JUNE,






THE RACOON AND HIS FRIENDS.


Mexicans; Cacomistle, English by adoption
and alteration from the Mexicans; Cat Squirrel,
of southern Texas; Mountain Cat, of the Cali-
fornian miners; Racoon Fox, of Arkansas;
Civet Cat, of Professor Baird and others; Ring-
tailed Bassaris, of Audubon and Bachman;
Northern Civet Cat, of Dr. J. A. Allen; Texas
Civet Cat, of Texans generally; Ring-tailed
Civet Cat, and Mexican Civet Cat of the
Southwest.
As may justly be inferred from its many
names, this curious creature bears striking re-
semblances to several widely separated animals.
It climbs trees, and it nests in hollow branches
or trunks, like a squirrel; it scratches, bites, and
catches rats, like a cat; it has a ringed tail and
a many-sided appetite, like a racoon, and a
head somewhat like a fox's. In size it measures
about sixteen inches in length of head and
body, and the tail to the end of the hair is of
about the same length. The general color of
this little creature is a warm gray, or brownish
gray. Its tail is encircled by five to eight
conspicuous black rings, and has a black tip.
When you see a United States animal, other
than the racoon, with a long, bushy tail, having
a number of black rings around it, call it a
Northern Civet Cat, and you will be right. It
is risky to make a general statement about an
animal, but I will make bold to say that, so far
as I can remember to-day, and pending correc-
tion, the Bassaris is the only American ani-
mal besides the racoon having a bushy tail
with big black rings around it. Our species is
found in all our southwestern States and Terri-
tories, and in California; and solitary specimens
have been taken in Ohio and Oregon. It is
very agile, and usually lives in trees like a
squirrel. It also lives among rocks, and often


makes its home in outbuildings, or deserted
ranches. It is by habit a night-prowler, and
often plays havoc with poultry. By some au-
thorities its food is said to be chiefly small


RING-TAILED BASSARIS, CACOMISTLE.

mammals and birds, and others say that it lives
mostly on fruit, pecans, and other nuts. Will
the Southwestern readers of ST. NICHOLAS
kindly tell us which is correct?
It is often tamed and allowed the freedom
of a house, when it nearly always proceeds to
clear the premises of mice and rats. Mr. E. M.
-Hasbrouck once sent one to me from Brown-
wood, Texas, where they are common. He
found it running loose in a store, as tame and
playful as any pet squirrel. It usually retired
behind the boxes during the day, but at dusk
came out to frolic and feed. This one lived on
fruit exclusively, and its owner stated that its
mate had died from eating a little meat. Un-
fortunately the little fellow sent me died on its
journey. Mr. Hasbrouck caught a wild speci-
men in a trap baited with a piece of an apple,
set in a hollow log, and when cornered it
scratched and bit furiously, snarling and spit-
ting like a cat.


MONSIEUR ET MADAME CRAPAUD.

By ANNA K. ALMY.


MONSIEUR ET MADAME Jean Crapaud
Thought to the .Fair they both would go;
So they packed in a trunk their Sunday best
And started off on their journey west.


"Ah, Jean, man cher, c'esl magnifique!"
Said Antoinette, when she could speak;
And he replied, with much esprit,
"Superbe / superbe ma belle cherie."












REYNARD'S CLEVER ESCAPE.


BY BENJAMIN WEBSTER.


A CLEVER old .fox lived in the edge of a
wood near a town. And he would n't have
been an old fox if he had n't been clever,
for not far away was the house of the master
of the fox-hounds, who often did his best to
catch the sly old fellow who poached upon his
poultry.
Many a narrow escape Reynard remembered,
and he became very bold. He began to think
that no pack of dogs were sagacious enough to
run hlm down, and so he was often careless.
Sometimes he would even break cover when he
was well hidden, so that he might have the fun of
running away from the whole pack in full cry.
But one morning he came so near to being
caught that he made up his mind never to take
unnecessary risks again.
He had been visiting a farm-yard that was
quite a way from his burrow, and when he
came home again he found that the burrow had
been filled up with earth. At first Reynard
thought that it was done by the badger who
had lived in the hole before Reynard drove him
out; but soon he saw the marks of a spade, and
knew that a man had been there.
While he was examining the burrow, suddenly
he heard the cry of the hounds, and he knew
that the hunt was out, and was after him. He
dropped the fat hen he was carrying, and trot-
ted away from the dogs, meaning to slip out
along a little ravine he knew of. But no sooner
had he reached the edge of the wood than he
heard a man shout. Then he knew he would
have to run for it.
Away he shot, his long brush sweeping the
ground. The hounds came straight after him,
and he had to increase his speed. But, tired
from his long journey, he found the hounds
gaining upon him, and saw that he would not
be able to reach the little ravine in which he
had so often puzzled the keenest hounds.
Still at full speed, he looked right and left,


and saw a thick row of bushes on one side.
Turning sharply, he ran toward them, for he
knew there was a railway-cutting behind them,
and hoped to cross it in time to reach the fur-
ther bank before the dogs. Once hidden from
the huntsmen, he knew of twenty tricks by
which to throw off the dogs and get away to
safe cover.
Unfortunately, as he leaped through the row
of bushes, his hind legs caught between two
springy shoots that held him like a trap. Nearer
came the dogs; harder poor Reynard struggled;
but, try as he would, he could not pull his legs
through between the stems. He was about to
give up the struggle, when he heard the rattlety-
bang of a freight-train coming along the track.
This scared the fox more than ever, for he
thought that it might keep him from crossing
the track even if he should free himself.
He struggled desperately, and, at last, by a
quick push of his fore legs, threw his body back
from between the sticks. He was at liberty,-
but just then the hounds were upon him!
Reynard made one long leap half-way down
the bank, and at that moment the train came
opposite him so he could n't cross the track.
But Reynard then showed what a bright old
fox he was, for, giving another jump, with the
foremost hounds at his very heels, he caught
the rear end of a platform car-the last car
of the moving train. Then, feeling quite safe,
Reynard turned his head and gave the baffled
hounds a farewell smile.
Reynard, after this close shave, made up
his mind to find a home not quite so near the
fox-hounds. He remained on the train until he
was well out of reach, and he never went back
to his old quarters. This was unfortunate for
the poor little rabbit whose burrow Reynard
stole when he took a new .home.
The huntsmen often wondered how the fox
got away, but the dogs never told.










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"REYNARD GAVE THE BAFFLED HOUNDS A FAREWELL SMILE." AFTER THE PAINTING OF JULES GOLIBERT.


T -- '













A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.

BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE.


I --
"H-



"THE STRANGERS WERE MAKING CAMP FOR THE NIGHT, BELOW THE HILL."


PART II. (CONCLUSION.)

"I DO believe those people are coming to
camp at our well!" Mrs. Croly exclaimed, in
an injured voice; and she walked to the end
of the piazza the better to see what "those peo-
ple" were doing.
They were a weak and a short-handed com-
pany: only a woman and a slender lad, of per-
haps fifteen, and they were, in a dawdling,
helpless fashion, making camp for the night,
below the hill.
The family had watched them leave the
main road, where the last of the contractor's
teams were moving out toward the railroad in
a vale of dust, and make straight across the
sage-brush for the well.
Now they were unhitching the lean mules,
in their dusty.harness, from the canvas-topped
wagon; the woman was helping the boy; and
the spare animals belonging to the outfit had


been loosed from the wagon-tail and were
dragging themselves stiffly about and snuffing
around the empty drinking-trough.
They look like the fag-end of some poor fel-
low's outfit," said Mr. Croly. The man has
probably taken his working force off on some
other job and left the old woman in charge of
the baggage-train."
"I don't see any baggage," observed Mrs.
Croly. And they don't seem to have any
feed for their horses. I suppose we shall have
them here till the snow falls, borrowing ev-
erything we have got. And the well is low
already. Why don't you ask them to move on,
David? They might just as well camp by
the river."
"Well, I guess we won't ask them to move
on to-night," said Mr. Croly. "They look as
if they had moved, about as far as they are
able."
While you were fencing I don't see why


le-





A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.


you did n't fence in the well," Mrs. Croly com-
plained. "We always have some tramp outfit
camping there, and Hetty is bewitched after
that sort of people."
"When I fence in water it will be when wa-
ter is more plenty in this valley than it is now,"
said Mr. Croly. I know what it is to travel
miles after dark looking for camp. No, Mo-
ther; I dug the well, but I did n't put the water
in it; and I don't ask a man for his character
before I give him a drink."
"Of course, I know, dear," the wife admit-
ted; "but you don't know how crazy Hetty is
after people any kind; it does n't matter to
her. She will want to hang around that wagon
all day long. And there is no telling the talk
she will pick up,- to say nothing of diseases
they may have with them."
"" Nonsense, Rachel! said Mr. Croly. "A
good meal of victuals will cure all the diseases
they 've got. If they had any, they 'd have
died of 'em, long ago, I believe. What is
the use of worrying? They may be gone by
morning."
In about an hour the lad came up the hill,
to borrow an ax to cut a little bresh to fry a
little meat for supper."
Mr. Croly quizzed him a little at first, asking
how he came to be teaming it through the
sage-brush without an ax. The boy said their
ax had slipped out of one of the packs, some-
how," and Mr. Croly inquired how long ago
that was- last summer, perhaps? The lad
smiled faintly and shifted his eyes, making no
effort to keep up his end of the pleasantry.
Next morning, before sunrise, he and his mo-
ther were drawing water for the animals at the
well. Afterward the woman made a little fire
on the ground behind the wagon, and they ate
breakfast, standing; and the boy drove the
stock away to pick up what pasture they could
find during the day.
They have come to stay," said Mrs. Croly.
"She has been up to borrow a cupful of yeast
to set a little bread."-
Mrs. Croly had looked into the woman's
tired brown eyes and seen what she thought
was sorrow there, and her first'repellent feeling
was gone. Nevertheless it was a trial to have
all her forebodings so promptly fulfilled.


Hetty came flying in about noon, with a red
face, all excitement and joy:
"He's got an accordion!" she shrieked;
"and he says he '11 play on it if I can come
down after supper. And he says if Martha
can't walk he 'll carry her."
"Who in the world is 'he'?" asked Mrs.
Croly, in the unsympathetic way of mothers
when they are taken by surprise.
"The boy, the boy! He is such a nice boy,
Mother. Guess what his name is,- Gess! "
How should I guess it-and what is his
name to us ? Don't be foolish, Hetty."
"But I have just told you his name," cried
Hester, gleefully. "His name is Gess- Natty
Gess. Do laugh, Mother." And Hetty ran
away to make Martha laugh at the joke about
Natty's name.
Both little girls came running, presently, to
make sure of Mother's consent to their going
below that evening to hear Natty play the ac-
cordion. It ended in Mr. Croly's going with
them and sitting through the doleful perform-
ance. They sat all together in a circle on the
ground in the rear of the wagon. The woman,
always in her sunbonnet, tended a low fire, or
" smudge," which kept away-the mosquitos. The
wind flapped the dingy wagon-sheet, the coy-
otes howled in the darkness, the family horses
stamped in the stable, and the stranger's lean
cattle hung wistfully about the corral, smelling
the good hay which was not for them.
Can't they have some, Father?-just one
good meal?" Hetty whispered. She had watched
the forlorn brutes, and knew what their hungry,
restless movements meant.
"Dear little girl," said her father, "if we
should try to fill all the empty stomachs that
come our way, we should soon have nothing
to put in our own."
Little Martha fell asleep listening to the
"Suwanee River," urged forth in the whining,
low notes of the accordion. Next morning she
begged for the boy and his music. He came
and played to her again, and again the music
sent her to sleep. His yellow face and big
brown eyes and faded hair, his slow smiles and
shifting -glances, seemed to have a charm for
both children. Hetty was always at the well
when the strangers' stock were being watered,






[JUNE,


A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.


discussing their merits and afflictions with the
boy. Her greatest ambition in the future of
their stay, which seemed to be indefinite, was
that she might be allowed to ride behind
Natty to drive his cattle to pasture -so called
- or to round them up at night.
As for little Martha, her thin, wistful face took
on a rested look the moment her eyes fell upon
Natty. He played before her, at her sovereign
pleasure, as David played before moody Saul;
and the spell of his queer music, and of his









U ?
















.- ,


NATTY."

slow, quaint talk, seemed to bring peace to her
ailment, which the doctor had said was chiefly
of the nerves.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Gess continued to borrow,
and to lament the distance to town, and Natty's
lack of time for making such a journey. Her
husband, as Mr. Croly had surmised, had gone
with his able teams to "do a little freighting"
before winter set in. He had not been paid for
his work on the ditch, but trusted to get the
money after a while. They. seemed absolutely
without resources, the mother and the boy, yet


without anxiety or fear for the future. "We
shall certainly have to take care of them this
winter," said Mrs. Croly,-" that is, if we stay
ourselves."
One Sunday morning Martha woke early, and
begged and fretted to be dressed "right away."
To make her happy, Hetty began telling her a
story. The door between the children's room
and their mother's stood ajar, and Mrs. Croly
heard parts of the story while she was dressing.
Where did you read that story, Hetty ? "
she asked, standing in the doorway and looking
in with a smile.
"I did n't read it, Mother."
"Where did you hear it, then ?"
"I never heard it- that is, all of it. But Natty
told me about the cave, and I made up the rest."
Does he know of such a place ? "
Not with water in it, really; but he knows
a hole -in the rocks where there is a sound like
water coming from a far way off, and rushing
down."
Hetty's story was about a poor settler who
was "holding down" a desert claim, like her
father's, only he had no well, and the dry pas-
ture was giving out all around him. His horses
had grown so thin it seemed, when he saddled
one, the cinch would cut it in two, and when
he rode one bareback it seemed the creature's
spine would cut him in two: so Hetty told it,
with much feeling for the man and his starving
horses.
Every morning he rode them to the river to
water; but the river was miles away, and as
they grew weaker with hunger, it was as much
as the poor things could do to stagger through
the sage-brush to get their morning and even-
ing drink.
One morning they were gone. He searched
all day and found no trace of them; but when,
at night, he returned to his cabin, footsore and
weary, the horses were there before him, waiting
at the rails of the corral. He drove them to
the river, as usual, and they trotted lightly along,
but they would not drink. Next morning again
they were missing, and again he walked the
sage-brush all day without finding them, and
again they were at home before him.
They were as fresh, when he rode them to
water, as if they -had fed all day in meadows up


696






A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.


to their knees in grass, and when they came to
the river, they gazed about them at the land-
scape and scorned to drink.
This strange thing happened day after day,
and the lean, staggering old horses began to
look sleek and fat; but where they fed or where
they drank the settler could not imagine, for he
knew that country, in all its drought and bar-
renness, for miles and days of travel.
One morning he rose still earlier and followed
the horses, but they seemed to resent his spying,
and they led him a long chase through the sage,
that took them nowhere; so he concluded to
hire a spy who was not known to these clever
truants. He promised money to a little lad, who
lived in the nearest cabin, which was far on a
lonesome trail toward the hills, if he would
track the horses to the place where they secretly
fed and drank.
The horses, suspecting nothing, trotted past
the cabin where the boy was watching for them.
He slipped out amongst the sage, and as he
could run like a quail he managed to keep
them in sight. The horses seemed in no doubt
where they were going, and he traveled on their
track for miles. The sage grew bigger and
wilder, and more like trees of a dwarfish forest.
The land rose to a bench, or mesa, with a front
of steep black rocks. The horses went up into
a place of shadow where the rocks appeared to
open, and passed out of sight. The boy went
up the same way, and found that the rocks.
retired in a circle which nearly closed about a
cup-shaped valley; and in the midst was a pool
of water, and all around were grass and trees.
The horses were drinking at the pool, and when
they had done they lay down and rolled on the
rich, dark turf, and then they fell to eating.
They took no notice of the boy. He explored
the little valley, with its walls of rock, and dis-
covered the source of the water. It gushed,
like a fountain, out of a cave's mouth close to
the ground, and the noise of its singing and
gushing filled the echoing hollow with a sound
as of spring in the hill-countries. The pool
was very deep. The boy could not hear a
stone touch bottom, though he threw many in
to try the depth by the sound.
The poor settler made the boy his partner, in
all profit that might come of his discovery; and
VoL. XXI.-88.


they kept it a secret between them. The set-
tler sold his horses, that were now become sleek
and handsome, irn the town for carriage horses,
and bought others as poor as those had been,
for a few dollars the head; and when these had
fed and drank at the pool by the cave, they,
too, became fresh and handsome, and were sold
at five times their cost. And the man and the
boy became rich, and many poor half-starved
horses were made happy, besides, and sold to
kind masters who could afford to care for them
and feed them in the winter-not send them
forth to starve upon the range.
Mrs. Croly asked Hetty to tell this story to
her father that evening on the veranda; but
the second time she did not tell it so well, for
now she had grown-up listeners, and was em-
barrassed by their attention to her words.
When her father and mother looked at each
other and smiled, she thought they were laugh-
ing at her, and the story no longer seemed true,
as it had, when it first came to her that morning
between sleeping and waking.
"So Natty knows of a cave where there is
water, does he ?" her father questioned, when
the tale was finished.
"No, Father. He only knows of a cave
where there is a sound like water."
".Where is it, did he say?"
"It is n't far from here. If Mother would
only let me,"- Hetty cast upon her mother a
hopeless glance of entreaty,-" Natty says. I
could ride there behind him easy, and back, in
one afternoon. He used to walk there when
his father's teams were working on the ditch."
"Natty shall take us both there," said Mr.
Croly. I 'd.like to hear that sound myself."
And so it was arranged: and next morning
they started to find the cave-Hester on the
seat of the buckboard beside her father; Natty
on a box behind, giving directions as to the
way. The lunch-basket was stowed under
the seat out of the sun; also a jug of water,
wrapped in wet sacking, to keep it cool: for, as
Mr. Croly observed, listening to water was not
the same as tasting it, and Natty owned that
the sounds in the cave were most tantalizing.
The way was like the country of Hester's
story, which she had borrowed from Natty's
descriptions. The land rose in long benches


697


-





A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.


toward the horizon, and the sage grew ever
bigger and wilder. The sun climbed higher
and hotter in the cloudless sky. The low, flat
crest of the mesa looked blue and hazy in the
distance. "Keep to the west," Natty was al-
ways saying.
As Hetty gazed, the blue line seemed to wa-
ver, to rise and sink; the light quivered; some-
times she fancied she saw the rocks, and then
her eyelids fell and she saw only dark spots
shifting on a glowing field. Her father's arm
went round her, and she slept.
When she woke the wagon had stopped and
her father was lifting her to the ground. It was
all precisely like the story she had partly heard
and partly made. The black rocks rose before
her; at their feet a tumbled mass of broken
stone, as when part of a wall falls down.
Through this rift a pass went up into the cup-
shaped hollow; but all was hot and bare. There
was no pool, no grass, no peace and refresh-
ment for man and beast. And Hetty could
have cried to see her dream so nearly true and
yet so far from it. No poor starved horses need
come there to feed and drink.
"I don't believe there is any cave!" she
exclaimed pettishly.
It was decided to eat luncheon before explor-
ing further. The sun beat full upon the face of
the perpendicular rocks; in the little breezeless
hollow the air was hot and dead as the air of an
oven.
They were forced to content themselves with
the shadow of the wagon, and here they sat
them down, in the dust, and ate and drank;
and Hetty's faith revived with the taste of the
good home food, and Natty's appetite was
something to remember.
"We '11 save the rest of Mother's biscuits to
eat on the way home," Mr. Croly advised:
but when he looked for the rest of the biscuits,
none were left. Natty had finished a pile of
them that would have filled a horse's nose-bag.
He was happier, with those white flaky morsels
descending into that place of chronic emptiness,
his stomach, than rivers of water with sands
of gold could have made him.
But Mr. Croly was thinking of his acres of
thirsty land; of his homesick wife and those
tender "hostages," his two little daughters. He


would have been ashamed to confess how, like
a dreaming boy, his mind ran upon that sound
of water in Natty's cave.
It was not much of a cave to look at; only a
hole big enough to creep into, leading to a tun-
nel that ran along, close to the ground, at the
base of those basalt bluffs, where they rested
upon the granite. It was at the back of the
little cup-shaped valley, beneath the half circle
of rocks encompassing it. They crept into it
and along the tunnel, one by one. A strong,
cool draft of air met them, and at first they
thought the sound they heard was only wind.
The tunnel roared like an old-fashioned chim-
ney in an autumn gale. But there were two
sounds-one, the far-away rushing and roaring,
and a nearer one that made their hearts thrill.
A sound of living water, imprisoned in some
dark passage of the rocks- falling, falling de-
liciously, like rain of a summer night dropping
into cisterns far underground, that echo with
the sound.
"Oh, Father, Father, it is there!" Hetty
cried; and she began to laugh hysterically.
"It is there!" Mr. Croly repeated. "If
that is n't water, I '11 eat my hat! "
Natty's peaked face wore a smile that was
ghastly in the faint, green, cavernous light.
Did n't I tell ye ? he exulted, though as a
fact he had never claimed more than the sound,
and had thought little of that; but seeing the
effect of his discovery, and the importance it
seemed to have for his new friends, he became
as excited as they.
Hetty laughed, and listened, and laughed
again, scarcely knowing why the sound should
fill her with such joy.
"Hark!" her father commanded; and'he
began a series of tappings and knocking on
the walls of the tunnel.
"Children,"- there was a sharp business
ring in his voice,-" I want you to get out of
this place; it looks to me like a place for
snakes -rattlers. Natty, you take Hetty out;
and be careful how you go poking about those
rocks under the bluff."
To Hetty's disappointment she saw but little
of the cave. That day her father finished his
explorations by himself. But she was allowed
to creep in for one more Hark I" before they


698


[JUNB,






A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER IN THE DESERT.


left-just to make sure that the wonderful
sound was true.
She chatted and laughed all the way home,
and Natty seemed uncommonly wide awake,
and his head kept popping up over the back
of the seat from behind; but her father said
scarcely a word, and drove as one in a dream.
That night the parents talked late in their
room, and next morning Hetty found her mo-
ther putting up another picnic luncheon.
"Who is that for ? she asked.
Father is going to take a ride, and he may
not be back to dinner."
Oh, may I -"
No, dear; you may not. I can answer for
that myself," said Mrs. Croly. So Hetty knew
it was no use talking to Father.
But she hung about the wagon asking ques-
tions while he was harnessing up.
What did he want the ropes for, and the
candles, and the pick, and crowbar ? And
what was that tallowy stuff in the box ?"
It was giant powder, she was told; her father
adding, with his teasing smile, intended to baf-
fle idle questions, that he and Natty were going
"prospecting."
Hetty felt more disappointed than ever, and
injured, too, that her father should take Natty
Gess, and leave her behind-without even tell-
ing her where they were going.
It was after tea-time, and the sun was sink-
ing, a great copper-red ball, on the verge of the
plain, when they saw the wagon returning. They
saw only the dust, but they knew it was the wagon.
And then Mrs. Croly behaved in a manner
which her little daughter could not understand.
Instead of going out to meet-her husband,
when his step was heard on the board-walk, she
turned away and went into the next room, and
only Hetty was left to greet him.
He was smiling, and did not seem in the least
put out.
"Where is Mother? Mother, come here! "
he called. In his hand he carried the jug he
had taken in the morning, filled with water
from the well; it still seemed heavy.
"Bring me a tumbler, Hetty," he said.
Mrs. Croly sat down, looking pale, and watched
him while he filled the glass to the brim.
Drink that, Mother," he said. That ought


to make you feel strong. It is worth its weight
in gold to us-that tumblerful of water."
Don't try any of your jokes on me, Father. I
don't feel as if I could bear it," said Mrs. Croly.
"I mean what I say. That is living water.
It is water that will give life. He that made
' rivers in the desert,' hid it in the rocks; and a
boy as ignorant as a wild ass's colt discovered
it; and, please God, I will make a way for it to
spread."
"And I grudged them-our neighbors-a
little water from our well!" said Mrs. Croly,
humbly; and the tears stood in her eyes.
You did n't do any such thing! Mr. Croly
promptly contradicted. You are one of them
that say: I can't go,' but go, all the same, and
twice as far as the ready promises. Come,
Mother, you shall not mix any tears with that
water. With that jugful I expect to christen
our claim. And if I can wake up these sage-
brushers, and get 'em to chip in and help me
build a ditch, we can water twenty farms with
that water just as well as one; and own the
ditch besides."
And the thing was done. The farmers woke
up at the word water! Not in the river, far
away, with costly dams and gates and waste-
weirs to build, but water in the hills above
them, ready to steal down in rivulets, once a
way was made, and bless their naked lands. So
the settlers built the Settlers' Ditch." And
long before the company had made up its big,
various, expensive mind what to do next, and
whether the land was worth saving, it was
saved-that much of it, at least.
The sage-brush disappeared; .the grass and
clover spread. Little Martha waded in the
ditches, and laughed and grew tall, if not fat,
and the dark hollows faded from under her
sweet blue eyes.
They were in a grass country, and the mo-
ther's heart was satisfied. They were in a
country they had made themselves,- with the
help of God's good gift,--and.the father's pride
was satisfied.
And when at last the company's big ditch
went through, it could afford to spare, from
its rent-rolls, those few men on the "Settlers'
Ditch" who had saved their own land through
the faith that was in them.


699










WAKING.

BY KATHARINE PYLE.


I DREAMED I lay in a little gray boat;
The sail above was gray;
Out, out to the sea from the dreamland shore
I was drifting and drifting away.

The dreamland shore was growing dim,
Though I strained my eyes to see;
And the dream-child, too, was fading away
Who had played all night with me.

The dream-child waved a shadowy hand,
And wept to see me go.
"Farewell, farewell," I heard a cry,
"You are going to wake, I know."

And then I saw the shore no more--
There were only the wind and me,


And the little gray boat, and the lonely sky,
And the soundless dreamland sea.

My boat ran up on a smooth white beach,
And faded away like smoke,
And the beach was my own little nursery bed,
And I opened my eyes and woke.

So often now when I 'm going to sleep,
I wish I could find once more,
The place where the little gray boat is moored
And the dream-child plays on the shore.

But in dreamland none can choose his way,
Or find his friends again;
And the little dream-child by the dreamland sea
Will wait for me in vain.


RAIN AND THE ROBIN.


BY. DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT.


A ROBIN in the morning,
In the morning early,
Sang a song of warning--
"There '11 be rain! There '11 be rain!"
Very, very clearly
From the orchard
Came the gentle hoping,
"There '11 be rain!"
But the hasty farmer
Cut his hay down -
Did not. heed the charmer
From the orchard -
And the mower's clatter
Ceased at noontide,
For with drip and spatter
Down came the rain.


Railed upon the farmer:
"I told you so / I told you so "
As the rain grew stronger,
And his heart grew prouder,
Notes so full and slow
Coming blither, louder-
"I told you so! I told you so!
I told you so!"


Then the prophet robin,
Hidden in the crab-tree,










WAKING.

BY KATHARINE PYLE.


I DREAMED I lay in a little gray boat;
The sail above was gray;
Out, out to the sea from the dreamland shore
I was drifting and drifting away.

The dreamland shore was growing dim,
Though I strained my eyes to see;
And the dream-child, too, was fading away
Who had played all night with me.

The dream-child waved a shadowy hand,
And wept to see me go.
"Farewell, farewell," I heard a cry,
"You are going to wake, I know."

And then I saw the shore no more--
There were only the wind and me,


And the little gray boat, and the lonely sky,
And the soundless dreamland sea.

My boat ran up on a smooth white beach,
And faded away like smoke,
And the beach was my own little nursery bed,
And I opened my eyes and woke.

So often now when I 'm going to sleep,
I wish I could find once more,
The place where the little gray boat is moored
And the dream-child plays on the shore.

But in dreamland none can choose his way,
Or find his friends again;
And the little dream-child by the dreamland sea
Will wait for me in vain.


RAIN AND THE ROBIN.


BY. DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT.


A ROBIN in the morning,
In the morning early,
Sang a song of warning--
"There '11 be rain! There '11 be rain!"
Very, very clearly
From the orchard
Came the gentle hoping,
"There '11 be rain!"
But the hasty farmer
Cut his hay down -
Did not. heed the charmer
From the orchard -
And the mower's clatter
Ceased at noontide,
For with drip and spatter
Down came the rain.


Railed upon the farmer:
"I told you so / I told you so "
As the rain grew stronger,
And his heart grew prouder,
Notes so full and slow
Coming blither, louder-
"I told you so! I told you so!
I told you so!"


Then the prophet robin,
Hidden in the crab-tree,










HISTORIC DWARFS


By MARY SHEARS ROBERTS.


BOUT the time that little Richard
Gibson was teaching the English
princesses to draw, Nikita Moiseie-
vitch Z6tof, -the "Muscovite court fool and
dwarf," was appointed tutor to his Russian
Majesty, the young Czar, Peter the Great.
Z6tof is said to have enjoyed a great reputa-
tion for learning and goodness, according to the
Russian standard of that time. As lat6 as the
year 1682, when Louis XIV. and Charles II.
were holding their brilliant courts, and the
good William Penn was making treaties with
the Indians of America, Russia was so far be-
hind the other European nations that even a
royal prince seldom learned anything more
than a little reading, writing, and arithmetic,
with perhaps a smattering of geography and
history.
There were then no great writers or artists
among the Russians, but court jesters and
dwarfs were highly esteemed. Learning did
not count for much, except among the clergy;
but the great empire, we are told, was remark-
able for her Fools of high degree, for even
princes were proud to hold the office.
As for dwarfs, the country was really alive
with them. One old author says there was
scarcely a nobleman in the land who did not
possess one or more of these "frisks" of na-
ture. At almost all State dinners, if these
pygmies were fortunate enough to escape be-
ing served in a pie, it was their duty to stand
behind their lord's chair holding his snuff-box
or awaiting his command. They were usually
gaily dressed in a uniform or livery of very
costly materials.
In 1708 Prince Menshikof sent to his wife
in Russia two dwarfs whom he had made
prisoners-of-war in Poland. Accompanying the


gift were the following lines: "I send you
a present of two girls, one of whom is very
small and can serve as a parrot. She is more
talkative than is usual among such little people,
and can make you much gayer than if she was
a real parrot."
One of these dwarfs was still living in 1794.
After the disgrace of her noble master, she
came under the care of the Princess of Hesse-
Homburg, and when she died, General Betskoy,
the Princess's heir, took the dwarf as part of
his inheritance. Nearly a century old, she was
still brisk and lively, with a babyish voice
when she cried, as she often did, at the recol-
lection of her ancient court-dress, which she
had prized exceedingly. Except when looking
at her face to face, one would think her to be
a child five or six years old..
The Russian dwarfs were very tiny, but they
were usually well shaped, having particularly
graceful hands and feet. Z6tof, however, was
an exception to the general rule: he was not
beautiful. On the contrary, he was extremely
ugly; but the small man was quite able to
entertain and amuse his royal master, became
his life-long friend as well as his favorite
buffoon, and was frequently called upon to
hold responsible offices as well as to fill ridic-
ulous positions.
According to the custom of the age and
country, when Peter, the prince (afterward "Pe-
ter the Great"), was born, there was appointed
for his service, besides the usual nurse and
governess, a special set of dwarfs to wait
upon and amuse him. No wonder he was
fond of the pygmy tribe! He had been used
to them from his earliest infancy, and he al-
ways took delight and pleasure in having large
numbers of them about him.





HISTORIC DWARFS.


When Peter was three years old, one of the
Russian noblemen gave him an elegant little
carriage made in another country for his small
mightiness. It was drawn by four ponies,
driven and .guided by the dwarfs of the court.
One of his first public outings after his christ-
ening was in a grand court procession. First
there rolled from the palace gate the car-
riage of the Czar, followed by that of the
Czarina. "In front went the chamberlains
with two hundred runners, after which twelve
snow-white horses drew the Czarina's carriage.
Then followed Peter's wee coach, all glittering
with gold and drawn by four miniature ponies.
At the side of it rode four dwarfs on ponies
and another one behind."
In his infancy Peter was cradled in the lap
of luxury. Nothing was too fine for the sturdy,
handsome lad. He slept between silken sheets
on eider-down pillows, his clothes were em-
broidered with gold and precious stones, and
he had wonderful toys of all kinds. When
older he learned to despise the soft bed and
fine raiment, but grew fonder of his pikes,
spears, and military playthings than he ever was
of his books, and in his boyhood he was con-
tinually "playing soldier." Once, after a seri-
ous riot of the body called the "Streltsi," or
native militia, some scenes of which he wit-
nessed, he demanded flags and drums and
arms. These the authorities allowed him to
have, and on his eleventh birthday he was per-
mitted to fire his first salute with real guns.
In the mean time, Z6tof was trying to teach
the royal boy to read and write. The tutor
had a hard time of it, for Peter did not like to
study; but, by means of picture-books specially
written and colored for his use, Z6tof managed
to give his pupil some knowledge of history,
and taught him to sing. Peter often liked to
show off his singing when, after he was grown
up, he went about in disguise.
As a teacher, Z6tof falls far behind the
English dwarf-teacher Gibson; for Peter, do-
ing as he liked, spent more time hammer-
ing at the blacksmith's forge than he did in
wielding the pen, and so when he was fifteen
years old, he wrote very badly, and knew no-
thing about arithmetic, although it is said that
he had mastered fourteen trades. About this


time he became interested in ship-building.
His ignorance of figuring, however, proved
such a drawback to his success that he began
to see the folly of neglecting to study. He
accordingly set to work with a will to learn
not only arithmetic, but geometry, navigation,
and fortification; and it was not long before the
pupil had outstripped the teacher in height, in
intellect, and in learning.
For a time the Czar of all the Russias was
taken up with building boats and forming regi-
ments, and he visited many countries. Z6tof ac-
companied him in his travels, and there were
usually three or four other dwarfs in his retinue.
It was during the boyhood of Louis XV.
that Peter paid his celebrated visit to France.
The Russian Prince was accompanied by sev-
eral royal dukes, by his ambassador and nu-
merous nobles; but known above them all
was his favorite Z6tof, who produced a greater
effect on the French courtiers than did his
strange and wilful master. Peter's manners
were quite bad enough, but, judged by the
ideas of the Parisians, Z6tof's were much worse.
There were no longer official jesters at the
Court of France, and Z6tof seems to have
been a wonderful novelty to the great Cardinal
Dubois, for in his memoirs he speaks with sur-
prise of the duties and privileges of the Rus-
sian Fool. His jokes were not understood by
the French people, for Z6tof, in spite of his
alleged learning, could speak only his native
Russian. His looks were not at all attractive.
The Cardinal described him at that time as
"an aged dwarf with long white hair flowing
over his shoulders, and having a voice that re-
sembled the hoarse croaking of frogs."
The Russians, however, admired his wit,
and Dubois remarks that Peter, who could sit
through the finest French comedies without
smiling, could never hear a jesting remark from
Z6tof without growing weak from mere excess
of laughter.
Years before this visit, Peter, who was ex-
ceedingly fond of doing all sorts of ridiculous
things quite out of place in a high and
mighty Czar, had caused one of his favorites,
Ramodan6fsky, to be created mock-Czar, while
Z6tof was made mock-Patriarch, with a proper
suite of pretended officials as attendants;


(JUNE,





HISTORIC DWARFS.


but instead of carrying a cross, as the real
patriarch would have done, Z6tof wore the
figure of a gibbet on his breast.
After one of his trips abroad, Peter appeared
at Moscow in a German dress and hat, to the
no small discontent of the people, who hated
everything foreign. Peter informed them that
the Russian costume was ridiculous, inconven-
ient, and absurd, and ordered a complete
change. The people grumbled and growled,
but Peter apparently paid no attention to
their murmurings, and
as by that time he
considered the Eng- :
lish fashions prefer-
able, he made the '
people alter their gar-
ments to conformity
with the British mode.
As soon as the public I
had become some-
what accustomed to
thenew order ofthings,
Z6tof, Ramodan6fsky,
and the Czar put their
heads together to de-
vise some means of
proving how much
more convenient and
comfortable their new
dress was.
Accordingly, in 17o1,
it was arranged that
Shansky, one of the
royal jesters, should
be married to a very
pretty girl in the Cathe-
dral at Moscow, and
that all persons invited
to the wedding should
provide themselves Z6TOF AND HIS MAS
with the same habit as that worn in Russia two
hundred years before, and that the ceremony
should be performed after the same manner as
at that time. Z6tof, as mock-Patriarch, was in
as great glee over this masquerade as was
Peter himself; and truly it was a ridiculous pro-
cession that wended its way to the cathedral.
The nobles wore on their heads long caps, a
foot higher than the fashion of the day pre-


scribed. Their horses were ornamented in
the ancient manner. Most of their bridle-reins
were nothing more or less than solid silver
chains, composed of links two inches broad,
and the breastplates and cruppers. were made
of square pieces of silver which struck against
one another with every motion of the animal,
jingling like so many sleigh-bells. People not
rich enough to afford silver decorated their
steeds with tin.
The women came dressed in the old Rus-


TER, PETER THE GREAT, AT THE FRENCH COURT.
sian fashion, with sleeves several yards long,
and the heels of their slippers five inches high.
They rode in wagons without any springs; lad-
ders were fastened to the sides, to be used in
climbing into the high carts, which were hooped
over and covered with red cloth at the end
where the women sat.
Peter himself joined the procession as one of
the nobles, riding on a silver-trimmed horse,


-~--
J






HISTORIC DWARFS.


but the mock-Czar and mock-Patriarch Z6tof
presided over the feast.
Several tables were spread in a large hall,
and at the upper end one was placed higher
than the others. At this sat the mock-Czar
and mock-Patriarch, to whom the company
advanced by gradual steps, and bowed their
heads to the ground as they .came forward.
And then each one kissed first the mock-
Czar's hand, and then that of the mock-
Patriarch. Afterward some refreshment was
presented to each man by both Ramodan6fsky
and Z6tof. When all the company had re-
ceived their gifts, they retired from the throne
about twenty feet, making low bows as they
went backward to their own places, where-
upon a splendid entertainment was set forth
for them in the old-fashioned way.
In 1710, Z6tof and his royal master arranged
another wedding between two dwarfs. This
was celebrated at St. Petersburg with great
show and parade. Z6tof, as a high official,
was head and front of the performance. It
took a long time to prepare for this great event.
Invitations to the wedding were sent out sev-
eral months before the day appointed for the
ceremony, and all the courtiers and ambassa-
dors were bidden to the marriage of this tiny
man and woman. All the dwarfs living within
two hundred miles of the capitol were com-
manded to be present. The bride and groom
rode on an elephant under a canopy; some of
the midgets followed on camels, or rode in
sledges carved in the shape of various animals.
Many of these vehicles contained a dozen
dwarfs at a time. Some of these small people
did not like the idea of being bidden or com-
manded in this way. Of course the procession
of dwarfs was followed to the city by a laughing
mob, and the pygmies objected to being made
sport of; but Peter's word was law, and he
punished the disobedient ones by making them
wait at the banquet on those who were docile.
Seventy dwarfs sat down to table, besides
the tiny bride and bridegroom, who were richly
adorned in the height of the prevailing Russian
mode. Z6tof took care that everything pro-
vided for this marriage should be of suitable
size. A low table was set with small dishes,
glasses, plates, and other articles, all arranged


according to the size of the guests. The dwarfs,
we are told, contended with much pride and
gravity as to which should be first, but it was
finally settled that the smallest should take the
lead; and then there arose disputes, as none of
them would admit he was smaller than the
others. The Czar, who was present, finally
interfered, order was restored, and the banquet
proceeded. Dancing followed. The bride-
groom, who was thirty-eight inches high,
opened the ball with a minuet. The company
soon followed the example of the groom, and
entered into the dancing with great spirit, and,
after all their trouble, became very gay and had
a good time generally.
As has been before remarked, Peter was very
fond of the pygmy tribe, and at the funeral of
one who had long been attached to his court,
twenty-four male and twenty-four female dwarfs
walked in procession, followed by the Emperor
in person and his ministers and guards. I never
heard of his being cruel to a dwarf, although he
frequently made sport of them, and his love for
practical joking was so great that even Z6tof
did not always escape.
About the time of the marriage of the dwarfs,
the Czar, in a fit of after-dinner jollity, had
conferred the title of Count upon his former
teacher. Besides, little Z6tof received a salary
of about two thousand dollars, a considerable
sum for those days, and he had taken pos-
session with much ceremony of a fine house in
the Tatar quarter of St. Petersburg.
Now it happened that Z6tof, feeling himself
growing old, proposed one evening, when the
Czar was in an especially good humor, to retire
to a monastery. Instead of agreeing, Peter,
to the great astonishment of the old and infirm
dwarf, forbade his thinking of such a thing, and
ordered him to marry again.
Z6tof was much put out, but Peter's passion
for shows was not one whit less. He chose
as wife for his favorite buffoon an old lady, a
widow of a man named Strem6nkof. Prepara-
tions were begun in the autumn of 1712, and
in the fantastic procession the Empress Cath-
erine and the Czar's daughters, Martha and
Prascovia, and even some of the ambassadors
were obliged to take part.
Four stammering old men gave out the


[JUNE,





x894.] HISTORIC DWARFS. 705
invitations; infirm and tottering creatures were Z6tof's descendants were forbidden to bear
appointed to conduct the bride, and four of the the title of Count so strangely acquired, until
fattest men in Russia served as runners. The 1802, when a member of an illustrious and
musicianswere
seated in a car
led by bears,
and as these
novel steeds
were always
being pricked
by the points
of the steel
lances, their
low growling
served as fit-
ting accom-
paniment to
the weird airs
that arose from
the chariot.
The service at
the cathedral
was performed
by a very old FESTIVITIES AT THE MARRIAGE OF Z6TOF.
priest, who was
half blind and deaf, and who wore spectacles, princely family with which one of them had
The procession, the ceremony, the nuptial-feast, intermarried, obtained permission from the
and the jingling of the wedding-bells were all Emperor Alexander I. to bear the title con-
of a piece in this strange diversion. ferred upon the dwarf, his ancestor.







PHOEBE.

By JULIE M. LIPPMANN.

WHEN skies are blue When days are long,
And threaded through And limbs are strong,
With skeins of sunlight spangles, And blithe with youth the season:
And breezes blow When everything
Quite soft and low Is tuned to spring
Amid the tree-top tangles: And rhyme, and not to reason;
When summer has the world in thrall, When life is all a holiday
And joy is sovereign over all, With naught of care and much of play,
'T is curious that a little bird 'T is sinful that a little maid
Should utter such a wistful word Should such complaining words have said
As "Poor me! Poor me! As "Poor me! Poor me!"
VOL. XXI.- 89.























ERY far away, in far
Japan, near one of the
quaintest of its quaint
little villages, there
lived a funny little
: man-a poor stone-
Scutter whose name was
Fujinoko. Every day
ti he worked hard to
earn money enough
to supply the wants of his family, and he not
only managed to do this, but sometimes he
saved a little something over. On certain days
he would row out in a funny little boat to a
great rock that lay in the sea not very far from
shore, and there he would hammer and chisel
and pry until he had broken off several large
pieces of stone. These he would carry away to
be fashioned into monuments which lie old to
those who wished to do honor to their depjrtcd1
ancestors.
Now, I grieve to say that Fujin:,ko :' as -
very discontented little man. He :..a al\wavNy
grumbling because he had so little and -me
others had so much, and because he was po:or
and of no consequence while sone others
were rich and great and noble. Hi
grumbling made him quite a burden
to his friends and acquaintances.
However, one good trait in the
little man's character was _
that no matter how much
he grumbled, he did not
neglect his work; which '
cannot always be said of --
the grumblers of our own
time. No; he earned "HE


Z -r (o),


WOULD ROW OUT IN A FUNNY LITTLE BOAT."
706


ar~cc~e~csrkF~Yr;~~~~


(A Japanese Wonder Story.)

EiB LIEUTENANT H. P. MCINTOSH, U. S. N.

money to supply the simple wants of his family,
and often he had enough to treat them to a
picnic on the water, or a visit to the theater.
So you see there was really no reason for all
his grumbling.
One very hot day he had gone to the rock
in his little boat, taking his dinner with him.
He expected to spend the entire day in get-
ting a fresh supply of stone.
He worked away until it was nearly noon,
and then he stopped and sat down within the
shadow of the rock to rest and eat his dinner.
He was very hot and dusty and tired, and of
course he was in a grumbling mood as usual.
While he was nibbling away at his boiled
rice and his bit of fish, a large boat, propelled
by half a dozen oarsmen, and with a great um-
brella spread over the
stern, shot sn iftl.
L-. Ui under
tie shadi

ownerr o .
tlIe bo.- t, "' &

A..

'. .".".. .-7, ,,c






THE DISCONTENT

merchant from the neighboring city; and near
him sat his servants, one of whom was fan-
ning him while another was supplying him with
refreshments.
"There, now," said Fujinoko, "look at that!
Why is that man so much richer and greater
than I ? I work harder, and yet I have nothing
while he has everything. He has no right to
pass so easy a life while I have to work so hard."
This and more to the same effect, until the
little man had worried himself into an exceed-
ingly unpleasant state of mind. With bowed
head he sat brooding over his lamentable
condition.
I cannot endure," he said, that anybody
or anything should be richer, better, or more
powerful than I. It is unbearable! I want
to be better than .ill. (O)ui' HI:o'. h:ot it ii and
how tired I m! I ih I did not hle to:
work so hard. I is-li tlh t Creat 1:it blue-
bottle fly wouid stup liu bluingL; he
makes me dizzl. I ,ish I wa- i, th
man in the boat! I u-I-i-si I
was -"
"Will not [the H:ono:rable
Master d.ign to take -
his tei ?" -aid a
voice near him. --
The little
man raised





"A LARGE BOAT SHOT SWIFTLY BY."
his head, rubbed his eyes, and looked about
him with astonishment.
The great rock and his little boat had disap-
peared. His dusty and ragged clothing was
also gone, and he was dressed in the finest and
richest of robes. He was sitting under a silken
shade, in the stern of a large boat; half a
dozen boatmen were laboring at the oars, and
the boat was skimming rapidly over the water;
before him knelt a man holding a small tray on
which was a cup of fragrant tea.
Poor little Fujinoko looked so astonished and
perplexed that the servant said:
"The Honorable Master has been dozing, I


D STONE-CUTTER. 707

think, and I fear I have disturbed him; but
this is the hour at which he commanded that
his tea should be served."
It began to dawn upon the mind of the little
man that his great wish was realized, and he
collected himself with an effort; for he thought,
shrewd little man that he was, that it would
never do for him to appear surprised, or to
show that he was unaccustomed to such things.
So he took the cup with a lordly air, tasted the
tea, found fault with its flavor, and finally drank
it slowly; then, replacing the ,cup upon the
tray, he relapsed into quiet enjoyment.
"At last," he said, my great desire is grati-
fied. At last I have reached a station in which I
am satisfied. Sure-
lvy, people who
'-' .. have dared
/ to blame
me








i Ill have no more
S--- -- reason to complain of my
rumbling."
\ while lie was thus communing
Siih himself, the boiat drew near
t :i A great cit\, .ini i-f.ln the boat-
"---',- men skillully rII : Lou.iht her along-
S side of some stone landing-steps,
where they held her steady with
their long bamboo boat-hooks.
As the servants bustled about, gathering up
their master's belongings, a man descended the
steps, bowing profoundly, to announce that the
Honorable Master's litter was ready according
to his directions. Fujinoko seated himself in
the litter; the bearers raised it, and, attended
by all his retinue, he was borne away.
They had not proceeded far, however, when
a great commotion arose and two armed men
came striding along the street crying:
"Way for the Prince Room for the Lord
of Choshi! Move aside there, you merchant,
or you will get hurt !"







THE DISCONTENTED STONE-CUTTER.


[JUNE,


So: Fujinoko and his party were hustled to trampling of horses, and at once his bearers and
one side of the street, to await the passing of all his retainers hurried to the side of the road
the great man and his retainers, and stopped as if waiting for something.
"What is it?" asked Fujinoko impatiently.
S- \h\' a:ie we stopping here ?"
Si- _-w-n T-he min-at-arms whose post was beside the
I/. 1 hirtr replied:
t My lord, the banner of the Em-
,-, peror is approaching; his Sacred
.-- Majesty rides forth to hunt, and
.is even now about to pass
*... ^by. Woe to us if we give
not way to the Emperor "
'" "How aggravating!" said
i -- Fi jinoko angrily. "Must I be eter-
nally meeting some one to whom I
-. must give way?" At this moment
the Emperor, attended by his
.- ... ,. noblemen and surrounded
: .- by his guards, rode by.
The new-made Prince of
c'" Choshi bowed profoundly to
his sovereign, but all the while envy
"A MAN DESCENDED THE LANDING-STEPS, BOWING PROFOUNDLY." filled his heart, and he muttered to himself:


Immediately the little man's grumbling fit
came on again in spite of all that he had said
and thought to the contrary.
This is too bad! he said to himself. This
is really outrageous! Here is a man who is
more powerful than I, and before whom I must
bow. How provoking! Dear, dear! I cannot
put up with this. But how shall I remedy the
matter? Alas, I know not! I wish I was the
Prince of Choshi!" and bowing his head he
gave way to gloomy thoughts.
When he looked up again, they had left the
city behind them and were traversing the open
country. It seemed to him that his retinue had
grown larger; there were now many men about
his litter, and the greater part of them z'cr.
clad in armor and bore swords and spears.
Soon they began to cry:
"Way for the Prince!"
Then joy filled his heart, for he understood
that again his wish had been granted. Loung-
ing back in his litter, he prepared to enjoy his
high estate.
Hardly had he settled himself comfortably,
when he was disturbed by a noise as of a great


Here, at last, is a man than whom there is
none greater! Ah, if I could be that man!"
Whish! In a twinkling the litter, its bearers,
and all his retainers disappeared, and he found
himself seated upon a magnificent horse, ar-
rayed in imperial robes, and surrounded by the
richly dressed throng of courtiers and soldiers,
all decorated with the imperial insignia.
The heart of Fujinoko gave a great bound.
"At last," said he to himself, "here I am at
the top of the ladder! There is now no one


"TWO ARMED MEN CRIED, 'WAY FOR THE PRINCE!''


708






THE DISCONTENTED STONE-CUTTER.


who is greater than I And as he rode along,
his heart rejoiced within him, and he lifted his
head proudly, and frowned magnificently.
Soon the cavalcade arrived at the hunting-
grounds, and made preparations for the hunt;
but before all was ready, the sun shone out so
fiercely that the Emperor and all his train, una-
ble to endure the heat, took shelter in a neigh-
boring temple, and the hunt was iJ:~tp>:nd.
Very angry indeed was Fujinoko. So: !" lhe
exclaimed, "the Emperor is not .the sti.onje-tr
after all, since he is conquered and put to flight
by the sun! Oh, ye mighty gods, I nmiust be
stronger than all! Let me be the Sun '"
At once he felt himself rising from the eil th,
and swelling out, growing larger andl lirg,_r.
rounder and rounder, as he rose ]ighler lan
higher, and beginning to shine ailk w-ith :
golden luster. Still up and up he w enti. gr.w I-
ing all the time, until at last he hilo:ne re-
splendent in the highest heaven. Fujinok,
had become the Sun.
Now," thought he, I '11 show them some-
thing." Immediately he endeavored ro slhine
his brightest and hottest; and all the tr:ivelers,
and all the poor laborers-all the men and
women and children, in fact-fled to: their
houses, unable to endure the intolerable heat.
Fujinoko laughed-loudly and only bu:rnred
the more fiercely. The trees and the
grass withered and died; the stand-
ing water in the rice-fields and
in the streams dried up, and many
of the poor cattle died; but -d 4
Fujinoko exulted and said: Ha,
"'NOW' HE CRI
ha! now I am the strongest!" o WASH yOU C
Far away on the horizon, there
arose a dark cloud, and it came rolling up and
up and spread itself out between the burning
sun and the poor parched earth. Then all the
men and women and children came out for a
breath of air; all the poor cattle sighed a great
sigh of relief, and every heart was lifted in grati-
tude to the gods for the great dark cloud.
Hot with anger was Fujinoko, and he ex-
erted his power upon the cloud; but without
effect. He burned his very hottest, but the
cloud still defied him. At last he pettishly
exclaimed, "Ho! it must be admitted I am
not yet the strongest, since I cannot drive


away the cloud. I will no longer be the Sun-
I wish to be the cloud!"
No sooner were the words spoken than he
felt himself descending rapidly-so rapidly that
it almost took his breath away. At the same
time he began to spread out, growing thinner
and darker as he descended, until at last he
Swas float-
ing much
S.. nearer t.-, the
eartd, dan be-
for-, and, in -hort,
ie Iound him,-:elf
St turned into
'\kiz. grear dark
.-'.' cloud.


'; He
./" Iiumed
.,~" .' "'' at once to
S' / -exercise his
.,- ,. new po, er, and,
gro.ving still darker,
the :iLd Ld be- n to -end
.'lo.;, r of rain fiercely
upr:n thei earth.
-. p.-X .Again the poor people were
obliged to rin f'.r shelter, and
the cattle were greatly frightened.
D, 'I AM GOING
LEAR AWAY: Harder and harder the torrent
poured down, until the streams
were overflowed and all the fields were flooded ;
harder still, until houses and trees were washed
away, and many were drowned. But Fujinoko
only laughed.
"Ho, ho! now indeed I am the strongest!"
he cried; and he sailed away, bearing flood and
disaster with him wherever he went.
At length he espied a great rock lying out in
the sea. "Now," he cried, "I am going to
wash you clear away; so look out, my friend!"
Then the rain began to beat upon the rock.
But Fujinoko found very soon that he had
undertaken a very difficult thing; not only was


709


E
CL






THE DISCONTENTED STONE-CUTTER.


he unable to wash the rock away, but he failed
to make even the slightest impression upon it.
Whereupon he grew angry and tried to rain
harder; and the harder he tried the angrier he
got; but it seemed to make no difference to the
rock whether it rained or not.
At last Fujinoko gave up in despair, crying:
"I shall wear myself clear away striving with
this great hulk of a rock! He is stronger than
I. Oh, that I might be the rock!"
Falling again ? Yes, so he was, and becom-
ing smaller and harder; finally a plunge, and
a great splash! There in the sea stood Fuji-
noko changed into a giant rock.
Well, the sun shone its hottest upon him and
he never minded it; the clouds rained their
hardest upon him, but he was not disturbed;
the wind whistled and howled about him, but
he was not in the least shaken; the sea arose
and hurled its mighty waves against him, but
he tossed them back shattered and in confusion.
He laughed gleefully: "Ho, ho! Behold, I
am stronger than the strongest!"
But one day there came rowing off from
the land a funny little man in a funny little
boat; he came straight to the rock, landed
upon it, and, making the boat fast, he took
out of it some hammers and chisels and a
crowbar.
Now," said the rock, "what do you want?
But no matter-you can't have it; for I 'm
the strongest, I '11 have you know!"
The little man gave no heed to this speech;
perhaps he- did n't hear it. At all events he
just went quietly to work with his hammers
and chisels, and pecked away at the rock very
sturdily, and to such good purpose that, in spite
of all the rock's efforts to break and turn the
edges of the little man's chisels, he soon had
broken off quite a large piece.


Upon this, the rock gave way to despairing
rage. "Will there never be an end to this tire-
some business ? said the rock. Shall I never
get to be the strongest of the strong ? Well, I
am not going to stop here; I want to be that
man! I want to be that man!"
Just as he finished speaking, or rather shout-
ing, these words, a great wave came rolling up
and drenched his sides; he started, shivered,
and looked about him, and lo, he was again
the same funny little man that he was at the
beginning! There were his boat and his tools,
and even the remains of his dinner! Fujinoko
stared at them a while, lost in deep thought,
and then suddenly he began to laugh such a
merry ha, ha! as had never been known to
issue from his lips.
He seized his hammer and chisel and literally
charged at the rock, whacking away so stoutly
and sturdily that in a very short time he had
all the material that he could conveniently
carry; then he loaded his boat, chuckling to
himself all the while, and rowed away home.
As soon as his friends saw him, they stared
and said: "Hullo, what's the matter ?" But
Fujinoko only chuckled. "Why, he has gone
crazy! said they; but he said nothing. And
so he chuckled on, day after day, until people
got clear out of patience with him, and said:
" Whatever is the matter with you?" And in
as much as they had previously called him
" Fujinoko the grumbler," they now called him
" Fujinoko the merry."
In fact, the little man came to be nearly as
great a nuisance with his chuckling as he had
previously been with his grumbling, and yet he
never would tell what he was chuckling at. If
you should happen to find out what it was, I
wish you would tell me, for I am curious to
know about it myself.


M -


710






THE MEADOW BROOK.

By CURTIS MAY.

I TURN no mill; no lake I fill;
No white sail flutters on my breast.
I show no grace of naiad's face,
Whose soft, warm foot my sands has pressed.
From one small spring pure draughts I bring
And tiptoe through the thirsty land.
Cup-bearer I where brown wrens fly, "-
And violets hide on either hand.

In untaught song I flow along,
Nor seek to utter that deep word
The ocean spoke when first it woke
And all creation paused and heard.
God's hand hath bound its own true sound
To every string he plays -upon.
His listening ear hears, soft and clear,
The music of my whispered tone.

Where goldenrod and asters nod
And grasses edge my narrow stream,
Where swallows dip and orioles sip
My shining waters slip and gleam.
Some little need in flower or weed
To me alone in trust is given,
And knoll and tree leave space for me
To mirror forth a strip of heaven.


I l


'h


---


-C


OFT


xi!


z












JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.

BY HOWARD PYLE.


[Begun in the Afril number.]
CHAPTER VIII.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
ONE morning Jack felt somebody shaking
him awake. "What is it ?" said he, opening
his eyes heavily, and looking up into the face
of Brookes.
"'T is land!" said Brookes. "We 're in
sight of land! Don't you want to see it?"
Jack was out of his berth in an instant.
The deck was wet and chill with the dew of
the early morning. The sun had not yet risen,
but the day was bright and as clear as crystal.
The land lay stretched out sharp and clear-cut
in the early morning light-a white strip of
sandy beach, a level strip of green marsh, and,
in the far distance, a dark, ragged line of wood-
land standing against the horizon.
Jack had seen nothing but the water for so
long that his eyes had become used to the
measureless stretch of ocean all around him.
The land looked very near, although it must
have been fully a league away. He stood
gazing and gazing at it.
"Well, Jack," said Brookes, "that there 's
Virginia."
"Yes," said Jack; "but I tell you what it is,
Brookes, if Captain Butts thinks he 's going to
handle me just as he pleases after he gets me
there, he's mightily mistook."

It was after sunset when the brig, half sail-
ing, drifted with the insweep of the tide up
the York River. Jack stood with the other
redemption servants gazing silently and intently
at the high bluff shores. Above the crest of
the bluff they could see the roofs and brick
chimneys of the little town. A half dozen ves-
sels of various sorts were riding at anchor in
the harbor, looming black against the bright
face of the water just ruffled by the light


breeze. The line of a long, straggling wharf
reached some distance out across the water to
a frame shed at the end. Along the shore
toward the bluff were two or three small frame
houses and a couple of big brick buildings.
They were the tobacco warehouses. A boat
was pulling off from the wharf-it was the
customs-officer's boat. Other boats were follow-
ing it. A sail-boat came fluttering from behind
the wharf. Suddenly there was a thunderous
splash. It was the anchor dropped. There was
a quick rattling of the cable and a creaking
as it drew taut. Then the "Arundel" swung
slowly around with the sweep of the tide, and
the voyage was erded.
A minute later the boat with the customs-
officer came alongside. Captain Butts met him
at the gangway and took him into the cabin.
In a little while boats, canoes, and dugouts
came clustering about the Arundel. The re-
Sdemption servants crowded at the rail, staring
down at them. A ceaseless volley of questions
and answers were called back and forth from
those below to those above. "Where d' ye
come from? Gravesend and Southampton."
"What craft is this ?" "The Arundel of Bris-
tol." Comes from Gravesend, d' ye say?"
"Be there any man aboard that comes from
Southwark ? Hey, Johnny Stivins, here be a
man asks of Southwark." Hi, there, what are
ye doin'?--d' ye want to stave us in?" A
babel of a dozen voices at a time.
Jack stood looking down through the now
falling twilight to the figures below, dim and
mysterious in the gray light. Just beneath
where he stood was a dugout that had come
off from the shore among the first. It was rowed
by a negro. So far as Jack could see in the
dusk he was naked to the waist. It all looked
very strange and foreign. A white man sat in
the stem. He appeared to have upon his head
a kind of hat of woven grasses. He wore loose





JACK BALLISTE

cotton trousers and was smoking a leaf of to-
bacco rolled into a cigarro, the lighted tip of
which alternately glowed and faded in the
darkening twilight.
Just then Captain Butts came out of the
cabin with the customs-officer. Here, Dyce!"
he shouted at the mate, "send those men down
into the steerage. We '11 have half on 'em
running away in the dark next we knows on."
The transports grumbled and growled among
themselves as they were driven below.
The day had been warm and the steerage
was close and hot; a lantern hung from the
deck above, and in the dim, dusky light the men
stood crowded together. Presently one of the
group began singing a snatch of a jovial song.
Other voices joined in the refrain, and gradu-
ally the muttering and grumbling began to
change into a noisy and rebellious turbulence.
The singing grew louder and louder, breaking
now and then into a shout or yell.
Jack had crept into his berth. It was close
and stuffy, and it smelt heavy and musty after
the fresh air above. He felt very dull and
numb, and the noises and tumult in the close
confines of the steerage stunned and deafened
him.
For a while the transports whistled and yelled
and shouted unchecked. Then presently there
was the noise of some one coming down into
the forecastle beyond. It was Joe Bushley,
one of the sailors. He came into the steerage,
and at his coming an expectant lull fell upon
the tumult. He carried a cocked and loaded
pistol in his hand. His face was stolid and
expressionless, and he looked neither to the
right nor to the left. What 're you going to
do, Joe ? called out one of the redemptioners.
He did not answer; he went directly to the
lantern, opened it, blew out the light, closed
it again, and then turned away without saying
a word. He went into the forecastle and blew
out the lantern there, and then everything was
instantly engulfed in an impenetrable and
pitchy darkness. A burst of derisive yells
followed Joe as he climbed clattering up the
forecastle ladder again, but he paid no atten-
tion to the uproar, and the next moment Jack
heard the rattling of the slide of the scuttle as
it was closed, and then the snapping of the
VOL. XXI.-9o.


R'S FORTUNES. 713

lock. For a while after the lights were put out
the uproar was louder than ever. The men
thumped and banged and kicked. But in time
the pitchy darkness quelled their spirits in spite
of themselves, and little by little the tumult
ceased. It broke out intermittently; it quieted
again, and then, at last, it subsided into a muf-
fled grumbling.
Jack lay in his berth staring into the dark-
ness; his ears seemed to hum and tingle with
the black stillness that surrounded him. He
felt intensely wide-awake, as though he could
never sleep again. Teeming thoughts passed
vividly through his brain. Visions of all he
had seen during the day -the sandy shore, the
distant strip of pine-woods, the restless, crawl-
ing waters between -he could almost see the
water.

CHAPTER IX.
IN VIRGINIA.

INCE the capital had
.'" been removed to Wil-
S..l liamsburg, and since
i jthe Governor's Palace
Sand the Government
House had been es-
./ ... tablished .there, it had
become the center of
fashion in the colony.
Just now the court was in session and the
Council sitting, and Governor Spottiswood was
holding court every Thursday. This particular
day was rather close and warm, but there was
an unusually large representation of the pro-
vincial aristocracy and commonalty present.
It was still not late in the afternoon, but there
had already been a good many arrivals, and
the gabbling sound of talking filled the As-
sembly Room. The Governor, where he stood
at the end of the room, was the center of a
group of gentlemen who were clustered about
him and in his immediate vicinity. It was al-
most difficult to get past them to pay respects
to his Excellency. Just then the talk was,
about a renewed trouble with pirates, who had
begun again to infest the mouth of the Bay and
the North Carolina Sounds. The notorious
Blackbeard had broken his pardon and was






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


again stopping vessels sailing between Virginia
and the Carolinas.
The "Pearl" and the "Lyme," ships-of-war,
were just then lying at Jamestown, and some of
the officers had come over to pay their respects
at the palace. Some of them were standing near,
listening to Councilor Page, who chanced to be
speaking of the latest depredations of Black-
beard. He was lying down at Ocracock,"
said Mr. Page. "I had a sloop coming from
the Tar River with some shingle-thatch for my
new warehouse. Well, the villains stopped her
and came aboard of her. They overhauled her
cargo, and I do believe if they 'd known the
cargo was for me they would have thrown it all
overboard. But Williams said naught about
that, and so they did not know whose 't was.
There was nothing on board to serve the vil-
lains' turn, and they might just as well have let
the sloop go, but no-there that wretch,
Blackbeard, held her for nearly two days so
that she might not give the alarm of his being
there to any incoming vessels. Williams-he
was the captain of my sloop-said that while
he was lying there under the pirate's guns he
saw Blackbeard stop and levy upon some nine
vessels of different sorts, rummaging all over
their cargoes. He said it was chiefly rum and
cloth the villain was after. He hath two armed
sloops now, and a crew altogether of some
forty or sixty men, and twice or thrice as many
more to call upon if he chooses."
Why, zounds I" said Lieutenant Maynard-
"why, then, do you people here in the prov-
inces put up with such a rascal as this Teach,
or Blackbeard, or whatever his name is ? Were
I in his Excellency's place here, I would fit out
an expedition and send it down there and blow
the villain clean out of the water, and have
done with him."
Tut, tut! Lieutenant," said the Governor,
smiling, that shows how little you men of war
know about civil affairs. How could I, Gov-
ernor of Virginia, fit out an expedition and
send it down into North Carolina? Ocracock
is under Governor Eden's jurisdiction, and 't is
his place to move against them down in the
waters of his own province."
Well, your Excellency," said Lieutenant
Maynard, "to be sure I know naught about


the law and only about fighting. But if a vil-
lain stood at my neighbor's door and stopped
my own people from coming out and going in
upon my business, why, zounds! your Excel-
lency, I would have it out with him even if I
had to chase him into my neighbor's house to
do it." The Governor laughed good-naturedly,
and the groups around him joined in. Then
the Governor turned to meet some new-comers,
who made their way through those surround-
ing him.
I do declare," said Mr. Dillworth, "me-
thinks Governor Eden of North Carolina is as
bad as ever was Fletcher of New York at his
worst times. 'T was this Blackbeard who mur-
dered poor Ned Parker-the first young gen-
tleman of Virginia-and yet Eden gives the
villain a pardon as soon as he asks for it.
They say his Excellency--Governor Eden, I
mean-condemns all the prizes that Black-
beard takes, and that he and his secretary,
Knight, receive their share for doing so. But
that was naught to pardoning the villain after
he killed poor Ned Parker."
Have you heard how Colonel Parker, Ned's
father, is now ? said Mr. Page.
"Why, he 's better now," said Mr. Cartwright,
a cousin of Colonel Parker's. I was at
Marlborough, myself, two weeks ago, and
the gout seemed to have pretty well left him
then."
Methinks he hath never been the same
man since poor Master Ned was murdered by
the pirates," said Mr. Dillworth. I never saw
anybody so broken by trouble as he was then.
And, indeed, well he might be, thus to lose his
only son."
His daughter, Miss Nelly, is a great beauty,
I hear," said Lieutenant Maynard.
The girl is well enough," said Mr. Cart-
wright.
Among the other and more social groups in
the room was Mr. Harry Oliver, with his two
young lady cousins, who stood over by an open
window with two or three ladies younger and
older. Harry Oliver was a young man of
about eighteen years old. He wore his own
hair curled and hanging to his shoulders; he
put it back with his hand every now and then
as he talked. He showed his white teeth when


[JUNE,






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


he smiled. His large, dark eyes moved rest-
lessly hither and thither.
"Yonder comes Dick Parker," said Harry
Oliver.
"Why, so 't is!" said Miss Peggy Oliver.
They all stood looking toward the new-comer.
Upon my word," she continued, he is a man
I can't abide for the life of me. As proud
and haughty a man as ever I saw, he turns
me to a block of ice whenever I am near him,
and I can't find a word to say for myself."
Oliver laughed. "Why, Peggy," he said,
"that then must be why you can't abide him."
Mr. Richard Parker, who had just come into
the room, stood quietly waiting to speak to the
Governor. He did not try to push his way
through the groups that surrounded his Excel-
lency, and for a while nobody saw him. His
handsome, florid face, surrounded by a great,
fine periwig of black hair, looked calmly and
steadily in the direction of the Governor. He
stood quite impassive, waiting an opportunity to
go forward when he would not have to push
his way through the crowd. Presently some
one saw him and spoke to the others, and they
made way for him. He went forward, still
calmly, and paid. his respects in a few brief
words. He spoke with the Governor for a lit-
tle while, or rather the Governor spoke to him,
and he replied. All the time the Governor was
speaking Mr. Parker was looking steadily and
composedly around the room, replying every
now and then. Again the Governor spoke,
again he replied with a bow. There was a
pause, and then Mr. Richard Parker bowed
again, and withdrew to a little distance.
"Why, only look at him now," said Peggy
Oliver; even his Excellency is not good
enough for him."
"Well, to be sure, Peggy," said one of the
elder ladies, "if Mr. Parker is proud, he hath
enough to make him proud. Why, what a
man of great fashion he hath been in his day !
'T is certain he was with the Duke of Marl-
borough, and about his person in Flanders at
the time of the battle of Malplaquet. 'T is a
wonder to me that he should ever have come
here to the provinces, seeing what a man of
fashion he was at home in England."
"Why," said Oliver, "maybe he 'd not have


come if he could have helped himself. But
what could any man do who was so swallowed
up by debts as he? They say that old Dun-
more Parker when he was alive used to give
him a fortune every year to spend; yet, after
all, he had to run away from the bailiffs. He
oweth more money to creditors now than any
other man in Virginia. They say that at one
time he played a game of piquet that took
four days; 't was with a Frenchman, a noble-
man-I forget his name-who was a pris-
oner at Malplaquet. Indeed, 't was mightily
hard upon him after his father died to find that
all the estate except the Dunmore plantation
was left to his brother, Colonel Birchall Parker."
But I don't see," said Miss Peggy Oliver,
"that all that gives him the right to lord it over
us here in Virginia."
They were looking at Mr; Parker.
"Well, I must go over and speak to him,"
said Harry Oliver, suddenly; I have some-
thing to tell him."
He got up and went across the room to
where Mr. Parker stood alone. How d' ye
do, Parker?" said he.
Mr. Parker looked slowly at him. How
d' ye do, Oliver?" said he.
"That 's a monstrous handsome piece of
lace you 've got there, Parker," said the young
man, looking at Mr. Parker's showy cravat.
"'T is good enough," said Mr. Parker, briefly.
Is it Flemish ?"
"Yes, sir."
"We don't come across any such lace as
that, here in Virginia," said the young man.
Don't you ? "
Oliver stood beside him in silence. Almost
unconsciously he assumed somewhat of the
older man's manner, standing with his hands
behind him and looking indifferently around
the room. "Tell me, Parker," said he, "do
you go down to Parrott's to-morrow ?"
Again Mr. Parker lookedslowly at him.
"To Parrott's! said he. "What d' ye mean?"
Why, have you not heard? exclaimed the
young man eagerly, and glad to have found
something to interest the other. Why, there
are to be six mains fought betwixt the gentle-
men of Surry and the gentlemen of Prince
George's. I heard say, too, that Ned William-





JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


son has promised to bring down a three-year
horse that he hath broke, and will run it in
the afternoon, perhaps, against Tom Lawson's
'Duke of Norfolk.'"
Mr. Parker listened impassively. "I had
not heard anything about it," said he; I came
down only yesterday."
What time do you go down to Parrott's? "
he asked presently.
"To-morrow morning. I 'm going to stay
at my uncle Tom's overnight. Will you go
along ? "
Why," said Mr. Parker, I had n't thought
of it before. Maybe I will go."
I start in the morning," said Oliver, eagerly.
" I 11 come over for you if you '11 go."
Very well," said Mr. Parker, "you may come
over, and, if I find I can, I 'll go with you."
Then he moved away without saying any-
thing further.

It was early twilight of the next evening
.when Mr. Richard Parker and Harry Oliver
rode up to Parrott's house. The house itself
was the largest of a cluster of unpainted frame
buildings that stood just beyond the clearing,
overlooking the bay from a low sandy bluff.
A number of outbuildings and sheds sur-
rounded it to the rear. Three pine-trees stood
not far from the low porch that sheltered the
doorway. A dozen or more horses were tied
beneath the pine-trees, and near by them
lounged a group of men, black and white.
They ceased talking, and some of them took off
their hats, as Mr. Parker and Mr. Oliver rode
up to the door and alighted. Mr; Oliver nod-
ded to them, but Mr. Parker paid no attention
to any one.
The two gentlemen went directly into the
house. Tom Parrott's wife met them in the
hallway, where was a scattered heap of hats
and riding-coats. From the room to one side
came the deep sound of men talking, and then
a sudden outburst of voices. I be mortal
proud to see ye, gentlemen," said Mrs. Par-
rott, dropping them a courtesy. "Indeed, Mr.
Parker, you do honor us. You '11 find Tom
and the gentlemen in yonder."
"You go ahead, Oliver," said Mr. Parker,
calmly ignoring Mrs. Parrott's welcome.


Another loud burst of voices greeted the
two as they entered the room, so dense with
tobacco-smoke that at first they could see
nothing at all. Tom Parrott pushed back his
chair noisily and rose to meet the new-comers.
He was a stout little man with a red face. It
was redder than ever now. He had laid aside
his wig, and his bald head glistened. He
wore no coat; his waistcoat was opened; he
wiped his face and head' with his shirt-sleeve
as he spoke. "Why, Mr. Parker," said he,
"who'd 'a' thought to see you? You be mighty
welcome, Mr. Parker. Won't you take a hand
at the game, sir ? Tim," to the negro, "push
up that chair for Mr. Parker. You know all the
gentlemen here, don't you, Mr. Parker ?" And
then he stopped abruptly as though struck by
a sudden thought.
Mr. Richard Parker looked briefly around
the table. He did know, at least by sight, all
who were there but one. That one was a
stranger to him: a tall man, who wore a long,
thick, perfectly black beard tied into a knot
with a piece of string. His thick, black hair
was parted in the middle and brushed smoothly
down upon either side of his head, and was
trimmed squarely all around his neck. The
locks at his temple were plaited into long
strings that hung down on either side in front of
his ears, in which twinkled a pair of gold ear-
rings. His face was tanned by exposure to a
leathery russet, but deepened to a bricky red in
his cheeks. At the name of Parker the stranger
had looked up sharply for an instant, and then
had looked down again at the cards he was in
the act of shuffling. A sudden hush as of ex-
pectancy had fallen upon the room. Every-
body was looking attentively at Mr. Parker and
at the stranger.
"Who is your friend yonder, Parrott?" asked
Mr. Parker. I don't know him."
My name is Teach," said the stranger
boldly-" Captain Teach, and I hail from North
Carolina. I 'm glad to make your acquain-
tance, Mr. Parker." He reached a brown, hairy
hand across the table toward Mr. Richard
Parker, looking up at him as he did so with
an almost impudent steadiness. Mr. Richard
Parker made no sign of recognizing the name
the stranger gave himself. He and the pirate


716


[JUNE,






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


seemed to be the only self-possessed men in the
room. He calmly ignored the proffered hand,
but said in a perfectly equal voice, Why, then,
I am obliged to you for telling me," and then
coolly took his seat and joined in the game.

It was nearly morning when Mr. Parker and
Mr. Oliver left the house. The moon, just past
the full, hung in the east like a flattened globe
of white light. The air was chill and smelt
rank of marsh and woodland. The mocking-
birds were singing in ceaseless medley from the
thickets beyond. Captain Teach followed the
two gentlemen as they came out of the house.
" And when may I look for you to settle your
losses, Mr. Parker ?" said he.
"I '11 talk .with you to-morrow," said Mr.
Parker as he set his foot in the stirrup.
But you '11 give me some written obligation
of some sort, won't you ? "
"I tell you, sirrah, I '11 talk with you to-mor-
row. Do you hear me? To-morrow!" And
then the two gentlemen rode away into the
night, leaving the other standing looking after
them.
CHAPTER X.
INTO BONDAGE.
T was the morning af-
ter the arrival at York-
town. Jack was awake
and up on deck bright
Sand early. The sun
had just risen upon
a clear and cloudless
day, and the brisk,
fresh wind drove the
crisp waves splashing against the brig as she
rode at anchor. The foliage of the trees on
shore whitened to the breeze, and the smoke
blew sharply away here and there from some
tall brick chimney. The town looked fresh
and strangely new in the brightness of the
morning. Three of the vessels that had lain in
the harbor overnight were getting under way.
The yo-hoing of the sailors and the creaking
and rattling of block and tackle as the sails rose
higher and higher apeak, sounded sharp and
clear across the water. One large schooner
heeling over before the wind, slid swiftly and


silently past the Arundel. A group of sailors
clustered along the rail were looking over to-
ward the Arundel as they passed the brig, but
the man at the helm-he wore a red woolen
Montero cap- gazed out steadily ahead, stoop-
ing a little so as to see under the boom of the
mainsail.
It was well toward the middle of the day,
and Jack was lounging in his berth when Dred
suddenly appeared in the steerage. He stood
looking silently around for a moment or two,
and then seeing Jack, beckoned to him. Dred
did not speak until they were out in the fore-
castle. "The agent 's come from shore to take
you all off, lad," said he. "He 's with Captain
Butts in the cabin now, and in a minute or two
you '11 be sent for."
"To take us ashore! said Jack, with a sud-
den keen pang. Do you mean, to take us
ashore to sell us?"
"Well, you '11 be sold arter a while," said
Dred.
"But," said Jack, won't I get a chance to
see anybody ? I 'm not going to let them sell
me, Dred, without saying something for myself.
They 've no right to sell me, and they sha'n't
sell me. Sure, there '11 be somebody ashore I
can talk to?"
Dred shook his head. "You don't know what
you 're talking about, Jack," said he. "Why,
there be hundreds of pore fellows fetched to
the Americas every year just as you 'ye been.
What d' ye suppose they care here in the prov-
inces how they're fetched. But sit you down
there a bit, lad"; and he pointed to the sea-
chest. I 've a notion to try and tidy ye up a
bit. -I don't choose to have ye looking like
them riff-raff"; and he jerked his head toward
the steerage. D' ye see, we two ha' been
mates, ha'n't we?" He had taken out his
gunny-bag, and he now brought out of it his
needle and thread; he was looking up at Jack
from under his brows as he spoke. "Well,
then, seeing as we 're messmates, I won't have
ye going ashore looking like nothing but trash.
Give me your coat and waistcoat." He had
threaded his needle and waxed the thread
deftly. Jack stripped off his coat and waist-
coat, and without a word Dr'ed began mending
the frayed and tattered edges of the waistcoat.







JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


Jack stood silently in his shirt-sleeves watching
him for a while. He had done what Dred had
bidden him duly, but he thought of but one
thing. There was a great hard lump in his
throat as he stood watching Dred's busy fingers.
" But do you mean to tell me," said he, "that
there 's no law in Virginia to protect a body
when a body 's been kidnapped? "
Dred shook his head.
"And must I then just submit to it like a
brute beast and be sold on a tobacco plan-
tation and maybe never see home again?
Why, Dred-" He almost broke down.
Aye; it do seem hard," said Dred, and he
bit off the thread; "but that's the way 't is, and
so you just got to make the best of it. There,
that looks betterish," and he held the waistcoat
off and looked at it. Here, take it," and he
tossed it to Jack. And now for the coat. I
be as wonderful a man at mending clothes as
I be at spinning yams-eh? Why, what a
hole is here, to be sure!"
Jack stood for a long while in cruelly bit-
ter thought. "That was the customs-officer
came aboard last night," he said. I wish I 'd
told him about it, and I 'm sure he 'd have
helped me."
"Why, no, he would n't," said Dred. "He
would n't 'a' listened to you a word! Here 's
your coat. No, no, lad, there 's naught for it
but to make the best of it. And don't you go
making trouble for yourself. You 're mightily
young yet, and five or six year won't matter so
much to you." While he was talking he was
neatly putting away the needle and thread.
Five or six years! cried poor Jack hoarsely,
almost crying.
Dred was fumbling in his gunny-bag. Pres-
ently he fetched out a pair of yar stockings.
" Here, put these on," said he. The ones you
got be all full of holes. Give 'em to me."
Jack, his throat dry and tight, changed his
stockings, Dred standing over him. Suddenly
the boatswain appeared at the companionway
of the forecastle and piped all hands up on deck.
Jack and Dred went up together. Captain
Butts and the agent were standing waiting for
the men, the agent holding a little packet of
papers in his hand. Jack, in a glance, saw that
the agent was a tall, lean man dressed in rusty


black, wearing a long black coat, and with the
flaps of his hat tied up with leather thongs.
His lips moved as he counted the redemption-
ers, one by one, while they came up out of
the companionway and were formed in a line
before him by the boatswain. A great flat boat
rowed by four negroes and with a white man in
the stern had been made fast to the side of the
brig. "Nineteen, twenty-that 's all of 'em,
Captain"; and the agent had counted Jack in
with the others; and very lucky you 've been
with 'em. Now, Bo's'n, get 'em down as soon
as you can."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the boatswain; and then
to the men, "Now then, look alive, my hear-
ties, and don't take all day about it!"
Suddenly Jack went straight over to where
the agent stood. "Master," said he, "I 'm
not one of them redemptioners at all. I was
knocked down and kidnapped."
"Hold your noise roared the captain.
"No, I won't neither," said Jack.
"I don't know anything about it," said the
agent. "The invoice calls for twenty men
shipped from Southampton, and your name
must be among them. What's your name ?"
"Jack Ballister."
"Yes, here 't is -' John Ballister seven
years.' "
"Seven years!" cried Jack.
"Yes, seven years. If there 's something
wrong you '11 have to hold Captain Butts and
Mr. Hezekiah Tipton to answer. I 'm only
the agent."
"I wish I had ye for a couple of days
longer," said Captain Butts; "I 'd answer ye,
I would. I 'd put my answer upon your back,
I would, afore I 'd let ye go!"
"Why, Master Tipton 's my uncle," said
Jack, despairingly. "Sure, he did n't mean
for me to be kidnapped?"
Well, I don't know anything about it," said
the agent, impatiently. You '11 have to get
aboard the boat now."
Jack gave one more despairing look around.
Then, choking convulsively, he crossed the
deck and climbed down into the boat. A mo-
ment or two and the agent followed, and then
immediately the boat was cast loose. As it
pulled away toward the shore, Jack sat gazing


[JUNE,






JACK BALLISTE


back across the widening stretch of water.
The brig blurred and dissolved to his brimming
eyes, and the last thing he saw was Dred's
bright red handkerchief gleaming like.a flame
against the blue sky as he stood on the rail
looking after the departing boat.
A little scattered cluster of men stood upon
the wharf waiting for the flat boat, as it drew
nearer and nearer; and when it struck the piling
with a bump, half a dozen willing hands caught
the line that was thrown them and made it fast.
Jack scrambled with the others to the wharf,
under the curious gaze of those who stood
looking on. They were formed into a line two
by two, and then marched down the wharf
toward the shore. The loungers followed them
scatteringly. A strange feeling of unreality had
taken possession of Jack. He felt somehow as
though everything were happening vaguely in a
dream. In the same fashion, as though in a
dream, he reached the shore, crossed the nar-
row strip of beach, and marched with the others
up a sloping, sandy road cut through the high
bluff. At the crest they came out upon a broad,
grassy street, upon which fronted the straggling
houses, one or two built of brick, but most
of them unpainted frame structures with tall,
sharp-pointed roofs and outside chimneys of
brick. A curious smoky smell pervaded the
air.
People stood at their doors looking at Jack
and his companions as they marched two by
two down the center of the dusty street; but
still everything seemed to Jack to be dim and
distant from himself.
At last they were halted in front of a large
brick warehouse. The door was opened, and
then they entered. It was perfectly empty, and
smelt damp and earthy from disuse. The board
floor was sunken unevenly, and the plaster was
broken from the walls here and there in great
patches. The two windows which looked out
upon the rear of the adjoining houses were
barred across with iron. Jack heard his com-
panions talking together. "Well, Jack," said
one of them, "here we be at last." But Jack
did not venture to reply.

It was the second night of his confinement,
when Jack was aroused from his uneasy sleep


1894.]


R'S FORTUNES. 719
by one of his companions who had clutched
his shoulder and was shaking him.
What is it ?" cried Jack, starting up sharply,
bewildered by his sudden waking. Who is it?
Who wants me?"
Chris Dred 's at the window yonder and
wants to speak to you," said the man who had
aroused him.
Two of the men were at the window, talking
to Dred. Some of the others had been dis-
turbed by the voices. They were turning and
moving uneasily and restlessly, and Jack could
dimly see that two or three were sitting up
in the darkness. He made his way carefully
among the sleepers to the window, where he
could see the outline of a head against the
night sky beyond. The redemptioners made
way for him when he came. He climbed up
on a box, holding by the iron bars. "Is that
you, Dred ?" he whispered, with his face close
to the square of iron.
"Yes, it be I," answered Dred in a whisper.
"I've left Captain Butts and the Arundel. I
have deserted, and I ain't going back again.
I 've joined the old crew again. I 'm going
down to North Caroliny."
"Joined the old crew ?-what do you mean? "
"Why, I mean that I've joined with Cap-
tain Blackbeard ag'in. Yesterday Captain Butts
came ashore, and I was one of the crew of the
boat that fetched him. What d' ye think?-the
very first man I laid my eyes on when I stepped
ashore was old Israel Hands. He was sail-
ing-master aboard the 'Queen Anne's Re-
venge' when Captain Blackbeard had his fleet.
Well, Hands he tipped me the wink, and by
and by I got a chance to have a bit of talk
with him. And what d' ye think he told me?
Why, that Captain Blackbeard had got tired
of living a quiet life down at Bath, and gone
back to the old trade again. Hands axed
me if' I 'd jine in with 'em,' and I said Yes,'
and here I be. And so, d' ye see, I 'm a won-
derful man up to the very last; ain't I, lad ? "
"But do you really mean that you are going
to be a pirate again? asked Jack.
Why, that 's about what I 've been trying to
tell you. Hands and Morton are waiting out
there in front for me now, and I can't stop any
longer."







JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


The third day was the last of their confine-
ment. It was about eleven o'clock when they
were brought out of the storehouse, formed
into line in front of the building, and then
marched away in the hot sun down the street
about a hundred yards to the custom-house.
Jack saw a lounging, scattered crowd of men
there, gathered in a little group, and he guessed
that was where they were to be sold.
The agent and the auctioneer stood by a
horse-block, talking together in low tones as the
man who had marched Jack and the others
down from the warehouse formed them in line
against the wall of the building. The agent
held a slip of paper in.his hand, which he re-
ferred to every now and then. At last the auc-
tioneer mounted upon the horse-block.
Gentlemen," Jack heard him say, "I have
now to offer as fine a lot of servants as hath
ever been brought to Virginia. There be only
twenty, gentlemen, but every one choice and
desirable. Which is the first one you have
upon your list, Mr. Quillen?" said he, turning
to the agent.
The agent referred to a slip of paper he held
in his hand. Sam Dawson! he called out in
a loud voice. "Step out, Sam Dawson! and
in answer to the summons a big, lumbering man
with a heavy brow and dull face stepped out
from the others and stood beside the horse-
block.
"This is Sam Dawson, gentlemen," said the
agent addressing the crowd. He hath no
trade, but he is a first-rate, healthy fellow, and
well fitted for the tobacco-fields. He is to be
sold for ten years."
"You have heard, gentlemen," said the auc-
tioneer-" a fine big fellow, and sold for ten
years. How much have I bid for his time?
How much ? Ten pounds is bid for his time-
ten pounds is bid, gentlemen! I have ten
pounds! Now I have twelve pounds! Now
I have fifteen pounds!"
In a minute the price had run up to twenty
pounds, and then a voice said quietly: I will
give you twenty-five pounds for the man."
Mr. Simms bids twenty-five pounds for the
man's time in behalf of Colonel Birchall Parker,"
said the salesman. Have I any more bids for
him ? But Mr. Simms's bid seemed to close


the sale, for no one appeared to care to bid
against him.
Jack had been so dazed and bewildered by
coming out from the dark and chill warehouse
into the sunlight and life that he had hardly
noticed anything very particularly, but now he
did look at the man who had bought Sam Daw-
soi's time. He was a stout, red-faced, plain-
looking man, dressed very neatly in snuff-colored
clothes. As Jack wondered who he was, an-
other man was called out from the line of
servants. Again the bids had run up to ten or
twelve pounds, and then again Mr. Simms made
a bid of twenty-five pounds, and once more no
one bid against him. Another man and another
were sold, and then Jack heard his own name.
"Jack Ballister! called the agent. "Stand
out, boy, and be quick about .it!" and Jack
mechanically advanced from the others and
took his place upon the block, looking around
him as he did so at the circle of faces fronting
him and all staring at him. He felt his breath
coming and going quickly and his heart beating
and pounding heavily. His mouth was dry,
and he swallowed and swallowed. .
"Here is a fine, good boy, gentlemen," said
the salesman. "He is only sixteen years old,
but he will do well as a serving or waiting-man
in some gentleman's house who hath need of
such. He hath education, and reads and writes
freely. Also, as you may see for yourselves,
gentlemen, he is strong and well built. A lively
boy, gentlemen-a good, lively boy! Come,
boy, run to yonder post and back, and show
the gentlemen how brisk ye be!"
Jack, although he heard the words, looked
dumbly at the speaker. D' ye hear me ? "
said the agent. Do as I bid ye; run to
yonder post and back!"
Then Jack did so. It seemed to him as
though he were running in a nightmare.
"The boy is strong," said the agent, "but
does not show himself off as well as he .might.
But he is a good boy, as you may see."
Now then, gentlemen, how much do you
bid for this boy ? said the auctioneer.
Once more the bids ran up, ten-twelve-
fifteen pounds. I give you twenty pounds for
the boy's time," said Mr. Simms, and again no
one offered to give more.


(To be continued.)


720































I
iis


jY

I





S.a


"'NOW THEN, GENTLEMEN, HOW MUCH DO YOU BID FOR THIS BOY?' SAID THE AUCTIONEER." (PAGE 720.)


VOL. XXI.-91. 721


Ln


---- --
g
i- --
~--r~--- --
I---Ci--LLI
r-.I- -^--~L ^-r- c
I---r~----_~- ----
~-~5---------------- --
----~------
6~ ---- ----------











4 ./ -.i





I"


By T

i IN the Tapioca is what
/9 '/ blue shadow of been Tappy-appy-o
the Life-Saving Station don't signify. That
sat Sailor Ben painting a toy boat. He ran a is here: How did t
red stripe around the hull. that was me- get
"That brightens her a bit," remarked Sailor savages ?" asked
Ben. I hopes the little lad will like her. Any- sively. "You mig]
how, she's wuth the half-dollar every cent." 'Swiss Family
"That 's gay !" said a small boy in a sailor-
suit, who just then came down the board walk
from the hotel. She '11 scoot along, won't
she? "


"Sure-ly," answered Sailor Ben,
solemnly; "she can't help herself. She 's
the model image of the' Speedy Susan,'
and that was the slickest little brig I
ever see point forefoot toward blue
water."
"Was she wrecked? asked the
boy.
"O' course she were," answered
the old sailor. She were bound
to be -always sailing smack up
ag'in' all the coral reefs she
could find. She was trading' in
the South Pacific, and she had
a fancy for coral reefs. She
could n't keep clear of 'em.
We hauled her off a matter of
a dozen times, but it was n't
no sort o' use. She'dmade
up her mind to be wrecked
-and wrecked she were,
on the Tapioca Islands."
"Tapioca? the boy
asked, smiling doubtfully. "SHE


UDOR JENKS.

we called 'em. It may 'a'
ca or Tapioca-oca, but it
ain't the point. The point
he Cook and the Bo's'n-
away from the cannibal
Sailor Ben, very impres-
ht read your











K


-S THE MODEL IMAGE OF THE SPEEDY SUSAN,' SAID SAILOR BEN.
'S THE MODEL IMAGE OF THE SPEEDY SUSAN,' SAID SAILOR BEN."


W VI I,






A YARN OF SAILOR BEN'S.


Crusoe' forty times without coming' within forty
fathom of guessin' that little riddle."
"Tell me about it," said the boy eagerly.
"Are you sure you can lie by while I 'm
tellin' it ? I don't like to have you signaled for
just as I get all sail drawin'."
"I can wait for half an hour," the boy
answered. "They've all gone in bathing."
"Then put a stopper on that little chatter-
box, open both your hearin'-ports, and don't
believe all an old sailor tells you when he 's
spinnin' yarns to a little landlubber," said Sail-
or Ben, with a good-natured chuckle. "Here 's
the way it goes: "

As I remarked in the start, the Speedy Susan
wrecked herself off the Tappy-appy-oca Islands
in the South Pacific. I was a green youngster
then, but with the making's of a sailor about me.
After the brig bumped coral and filled, she
thought she 'd make a call on Mr. Davy Jones.
Not havin' been invited, I made up my mind
to stay above water as long as I could.
Come," says I to the Cook, "you and me
ain't captains o' this ungrateful craft. Our bet-
ters may go down in glory with the ship, but
bo's'ns and cooks can't be spared like officers,
and swimming' ashore is all we 're good for."
The Cook was a level-headed kind of a
darky,-he made the best plum-duff I ever
see,-and he says: "All right, sah." So over
we went like a couple o' flying-fish, and come
up like two tortoises. But it was a powerful
.stretch to swim, bein' a matter o' forty mile or
so; and I mistrust whether we might n't 'a'
joined Mr..D. Jones's little party down below
if it had n't been for the Bo's'n (me). When I
heard Snowball (the Cook, you mind) puffing
grampus-fashion, I says to him, says I:
"Snowball, you sunburnt sea-cook, float on
your back and I,'11 tow you a bit." So he did,
and I grappled his wool and towed him as easy
as if he were the Lord Mayor o' London in his
kerridge. When I begin to puff like a steam-
tug, Snowball played horse for me while I lay
baskin' like a lazy whale o' Sunday. So we
went-Bo's'n tugging Cook, and Cook repay-
in' the compliment till we got in soundin's.
I 'm not a-goin' to describe the Tappy-appy
Islands. You 've got your Jography, and you


can read about 'em any time. The only thing
that 's pecooliar about the islands you '11 see as
I get along with my facts.
We come ashore in good shape, water-logged,
but sound in every timber, and chipper as ma-
rines in a ca'm. We had nothing' but our togs
to look after, and we set there making' observa-
tions on the weather and the good qualities of
our late shipmates, till we had drained off some.
Then we begun to talk of explorin' a bit.
We had n't fixed on a plan when something'
happened that knocked our plans into a cocked
hat. Up came a lot of natives rigged out in
feathers and things, jabberin' seventeen to the
dozen, and maybe more. They surrounded us,
and we hauled down our flags without firin' a
gun-which we had n't any. They decorated
us with grass-rope bracelets, tied us into two
shipshape bits o' cargo, shouldered us, and set
sail inland, singin' songs o' triumph .
Cook," says I, we 're a-goin' int' the
interior."
I 'm afeared we be," he pipes up sorrowful
enough, thinking' I meant they was cannibals.
"Avast!" says I. "Men don't sing when
they 're hungry."
And I was right. When they got us up to
their town, they cast us loose, and gave us free
board and fair lodgin's, considerin'- for you
would n't be wantin' electric-bells and bills-o'-
fare in such outlandish regions.
Skippin' the months when we was just getting'
acquainted with their ways, I '11 get on to the
adventure part. I '11 say no more than that
we lived in clover, till Cook he begun to be
homesick. I did n't mind it myself.
"Cook," says I, "it 's a kind of a copper-
colored vacation when you look at it right--
reg'lar rations and nothing' to do."
"It ain't like New Bedford," was all he 'd
say; and the same I could n't deny.
But I 'd picked up their lingo till I could
convairse fair and free like a genteel Tappy-
appyocan, passing' the time o' day with the best
of 'em. But the Cook was different; he had a
wife and little kids at home, and there was n't
any way of hearing' from them. He had been
the darkest darky on the islands, but he faded
to the shade of a chaplain's every-day coat at
the end of a long cruise. I felt sorry for him.






724 A YARN OF SAILOR BEN S. [JUNE,

So one day, though I had an invitation to play out a regular plum-duff and soft-Tommy
tenny-tenny hop-hop which, queerly enough, spread: plenty o' the best, and charge it to
was n't unlike tennis and hop-scotch mixed up the steward; and he set great store by making'
together-I politely begged off, and piloted a show for reasons that I happened to know.


.-. :-- -'-- --
......-......=o; -=


*--'-: -' -

...--.. : -- --- ---






"THEY SURROUNDED US, AND WE HAULED DOWN OUR FLAGS WITHOUT FIRIN' A GUN--WHICH WE HAD N'T ANY."


the Cook down to the "sad sea waves" (as I once
heard a sweet-singin' young woman remark).
"Cooky," says I, "you are most shockin' pale,
and unstiddyuponyourpins. Areyouland-sick?"
"Ter tell de trufe, sah," says he, pipin' his
eye, "I am wantin' powerful to git back ter ole
New Bedford; and I don't see dat dese onciv--
ilized colored pussons are goin' ter let us go."
"Well, cheer up," says I; "for I 've calcu-
lated a course that oughter fetch us clear."
I made out a chart of my idee, and the black
Cook he "yah-yahed" till he reminded me of a
high-striking hyena what I once. seen in a cirkis.
But it was no wonder.
The way of it was this: the chief of the
Tappyappyocans was goin' to give a big blow-


That 's what made me think of my plan, and
that's why the Cook grinned.
So back we went to find the chief,-Tiffin,
I called him,-and I hailed him till he came
out from his hut where he 'd been palaverin'
with his chief cook.
"Tiffin," says I, great Chief of the Tappy-
appies" (for these benighted heathen likes titles,
and has no idee of the glorious off-hand ways
of a republic like ours), "you 're goin' to give
a noble eatin'-match ?"
"True, Moonface," says he; for that 's the
name I went by, though I was more like a beet
in the face than like the moon.
I s'pose you want things to go off in tip-
top style?" I went on as easy as you please.


--






A YARN OF SAILOR BEN'S.


"You know well, Moonface," says he, his
complexion getting' a shade darker, "that my
brother, the chief of the Succotash Islands"
(there 's where my memory's not what it
should be-I don't rightly remember the Jog-
raphy name) "is to dine with me, and he has
far and away the champion cook o' these parts.
Three wars have we fit over that there cook."
I don't recall mentionin' the fact previously,"
I remarks, "but Snowball here -he 's the boss
medicine-man over a galley-stove that I ever
saw" (that 's the sense of what I said)-" in
fact, he 's the chief-cook and first-chop bottle-
washer of your pale brothers! "
"Well, well!" says the chief, after a spell, and
looking' at Snowball with interest. "You do
surprise me."
"Yes, sirree!" I went on, slapping the cook
on the shoulder, and 'most keelin' him over.
" But to tell you the plain facts o' the case, his
heart pants for the
land of his people."
(These savages de- /
light in poitry talk,
and I had picked it
up along with their
lingo.) His neck is
stretched with gazin' ",,;.
to-wards the land o'
the free and the
home o' the brave! "
O' course he never
knew the words was a
quotation from a pop-
ular ballad, and it
moved him -it came
so sudden. Still, he
did n't give right in.
He saw where I was
a-steerin', but did n't
choose to let on. So
at last I purtended to
be a little hurt and
huffy: "'IT'S A
"All correct," I
says; "if Cook and me can't go home to my
country 't is of thee, you sha'n't serve up to
your dusky friend the great food of the pale
brothers and I whistled Yankee Doodle"
slow and solemn, like a hymn tune.


That was too much for him.
"If I might have plenty of this great pud-
din', I maybe would let you go," he says, after
a long think. "But I 'd like to taste a sample
fust."
"It 's a go!" I says, takin' him up right off.
Now, the queer point about these islands
was the fact that a humpin' big mountain rose
right in the middle o' the largest one. It was
a played-out volcano, and the top of its peak
was covered with real snow. That's what put
the notion into my mind first off.
That afternoon me and the cook climbed
that peak and fetched down baskets full of
snow and chunks of ice. Then we cut two
sections of bamboo- one as big as a water-
butt and the other not quite so big. There
was plenty of salt alongshore, and we toted
some to the grove.
The cook he loaded the littler bamboo nearly


4V

--~-


GO!' I SAYS, TAKIN' HIM UP RIGHT OFF."

to the muzzle with goat's milk, and dumped in
a couple o' dozen o' turtle-eggs, and sweetened
the mess to taste with sugar-cane juice and
then we fixed on a long bamboo pole to the
small cask inside, and round I went as if it was


1894.]


725






A YARN OF SAILOR BEN S.


a capstan-bar. Round and round, round and
round And round, some more till my back
was breaking' with it.
But it froze stiff; and when we fished it out,
it was a kind of oncivilized ice-cream. The
cook he tasted it, in the -v.iy n' duty; but he
looked worser than whln !e i: h.:nie nrcrI-ket
"No, thanky," says I, I[i-.n Ih- ,:ri-r~Il
me a dose; "but don't l:..:k L.ii.i., ..i:.'i.
It '11 go down with tlhee ih.-i iti.ri: -
you see if it don't."
It did. You orter '\e.


gathering' turtle-eggs. We made enough o' the
awful stuff to sink an Indiaman, and left it
packed in snow in a cool place in the woods.


The day of the grand


xiP' 1%!

'vt 1/j/


*ROUND AND ROUND, ROUND AND F
seen the chief smile when he got some-why,
his grin lit up the landscape.
Moonface Medicine-man," says he, as he
scraped the sides o' the bamboo bowl we gave
him, "your chill-puddin' is the finest thing I
ever saw! Prepare a hundred calabashes for
the Chief of the Succotash Islands, and you
shall go free. I will make him knock his head
to the dust! "
It's a bargain, great Chief!" says I, and he
marched back to his hut as proud as a new
commodore on Sunday. You see, we were
careful to give the chief a safe dose, and we
fired the rest into the bushes.
Well, just before the great day we set a gang
of natives to totin' down snow and ice, cutting'
bamboo for freezers, crushin' sugar-cane, and
t


barbecue came.
First our chief he
put on a poor face,
and trotted out reg-
ular old played-out
native dishes- bong-
bong, and maboo-taboo,
fried cush-cush-com-
mon dishes such as a
third-rate chief might
have 'most any day.
I see the other chief's
lip curlin' up till it
'most hid his snub-
nose- with scorn, and
with pride in his own
cook. But our chief
was just a-leadin' old
Succotash on--foolin'
him, you see.
Then come dessert.
Our chief he remarks,
careless and easy:
I have a new dish,
royal brother, if you
will try it ? "
"Don't care if I
do," says the other, as
if not carin' particular
about it.


Our chief he whacked a gong, and in came a
string of mahogany slaves proudly supporting'
fancy calabashes loaded with that outlandish
ice-cream. ,
What, may I ask, is this ?" asks the royal
guest, a trifle oneasy, mistrustin' the other po-
tentater was a-savin' his trumps for the last trick.
"Moonface chill-puddin'!" says our chief,
impressive and grand.
It was set out, and at the word o' command
every noble guest dipped into his calabash.
Words o' mine can't depict that scene. I 'd
have to talk French to do it. It was like
the finish of a tub-race. When I saw them all
a-eatin' fast when they could, and a-tryin' to
warm their froze noses when they could n't, I
nudged Snowball on the sly.


726


[JUNE,






X894.] A YARN OF

"Cook," I whispers, "we '11 start now, I
guess. Those fellers don't mean to stop as long
as they can lift a spoon--and I 'm afraid
they '11 overdo this thing. If we waits till dys-
pepsy sets in, we 'll never see Hail Columbia
any more."
He saw the sense o' my remark, and we got
out and scooted. I hoped they would n't eat
more than human natur' would stand-but
when I thought o' that mixture, my heart kind
of rose in my throat.
We did n't get away too early. Our dugout
had a start, but soon we made out a war-canoe
putting after us.
"Can they overhaul us?" I asks the Cook.
"No, sah i" he says, positive-
like, and ,iih -a
grin. -- o. -. "-
jest wait till


S


AILOR BEN'S. 727

"If I catch you, you have to eat your own
chill-puddin'! All my people are tumbled
over with bad magic!"
"Adoo, Chief! I sings out. "We was afraid
you 'd eat too much "
He bowled a war-club at us, but he was n't
feeling' strong, and then he keeled over; and that
was the last of the Tappy-appy-ocas.

Now, here 's your boat," said Sailor Ben,
as he finished the story. Let her get good
and dry, or you '11 be getting' your clothes
mussed up with it."
"Thank you ever so much for the boat,
and for the story, too," said the little boy,
as he took the new boat daintily
Sb. the nasthead.
-- ., I hope," said Sailor
Ben, looking
after his





,---


Y"~+



5?
'-' 'I'


that pison git a
fa'r chance!"
And by the
time they got with- -
in hailin' distance, most
o' the paddlers had keeled
over, one by one, into the ".'ADOO, CHIEF! I SINGS OUT."
hold o' their canoe: Then
she came to a dead halt. It was just in time, little friend, and picking up his paint and
too, for the chief he stood up near the idol brushes, "that the little landlubber did n't
they had for a bow, waving his club, and his believe all that nonsense. He seemed rather
voice came faint over the water: serious and solemn over it."


_










A PRODIGY.

BY E. L. SYLVESTER.


b.zJ2Yf AI


I 'VE a clever little friend
I should like to recommend,
In case you need a picture of your dog, or cow, or cat;
Or a drawing of a house,
Of a lion or a mouse,
Or a portrait of a lady in her new spring hat.

Almost anything you will
She 'll draw with greatest skill,
From a ship upon the ocean to a bear with awful claws;
And when her work you see
I 'm sure you must agree
It really is remarkable--the way my artist draws.





















BY OLIVER HERFORD.


The Poet offereth REALLY, Fly! you ought to know
to deliver a Fly
from the Better, surely, than to go
Spider's web.
Spider's Into Mr. Spider's net.
Luckily I'm here to set
You free"; but ere I could have stirred,
Mr. Spider's voice I heard
Crying in an angry tone:
"Better let my lunch alone!
Eve Spiders' "One would think, for all you care,
rights
must be respected. Spiders could subsist on air.
Listen to this tale and see
If you don't agree with me!"

I sat down without a word,
Following is the tale I heard:

THE TALE.
The Spider A Prince who sought
spinneth a yarn
to instruct the Poet His lost Bride, caught
and divert him
that he may forget In the toils of a witch,--woe
about the Fly. betide her!
betide her!-
When riding one night
Through a forest, caught sight
Of a Spi in the web of a Flyder.

(As perhaps you surmise,
.I have tried to disguise,
The names, with the best of intention;
For I make it my plan,
Whenever I can,
To avoid any personal mention.)

Said the Prince to the Spi,
" Supposing that I
Should deliver you out of this hate-
fulness,
Will you pay me in kind,
VOL. XXI.-92. 7


And help me to find
My bride ?- Can I count on your grateful-
ness ?

Said the Spi, "Without doubt,
If you will let me out
From the web of this terrible Flyder,
By all means-oh, yes!
You shall find your Princess,
For I will myself be your guider!"

One jerk! He was free,
And his buzzing and glee
Drove the Prince. to the verge of dis-
traction.
The Flyder, meanwhile, The Flyder
Wore a cynical smile, td o see it in
And a look of--well-not the Prince.
satisfaction.


The Prince paid no heed,
But mounted his steed,






THE SPIDER'S TALE.


730


And started the Princess to find.
The Spi led the way,
But little dreamed they
That the Flyder had mounted behind!

He found her, it's true,
And the wicked witch, too,
Who fled when he up and defied her;
But while being wed,
Hanging over her head,
The Princess caught sight of the Flyder!

At the terrible sight,
Her reason took flight,


Till she was completely bereft of it,
When she drained a tureen
Full of cold Paris.green,
And the Prince swallowed all that was
left of it!



Listening to the Spider, I Settingforthhowa
Poet and a Fly
Quite forgot poor Mr. Fly syereboth taken in
And his pitiable plight and how that a
diverting tale mnay
Till the tale was finished quite. speed a good
dinner.
Then, alas! too late I knew,
Mr. Fly was finished, too.


ABRAHAM JOHANNE MAGNARCH.*

By JULIET WILBOR TOMPKINS.

ALL the way down from the Pole he came,
With a sealskin suit and a yard of name,
That each,little every-day boy might know
How a little boy looks who 's an Eskimo.

Think of a boy who 's as big as that,
And never has tasted a thing but fat
And oil and blubber and reindeer steak,-
Who never has heard of a buckwheat cake!

Jolly and broad is his dear little grin,
Showing the small-boy fun within;
Maybe he '11 tell you it is n't so bad
To be a real little Eskimo lad.

His stout wooden sled, all the long year round,
Goes screakety-screak on the frozen ground.
h I His toes may be cold and his fingers may freeze,
But he never is bothered with A B C's.

When he goes home, he '11 astonish them there
With the curious things that they eat and wear
S Down in the land where he went to show
How a little boy looks when he 's Eskimo.
I. S. The name of a real little Eskimo boy at the Midwinter
Fair in California.





















JUST look, it is the market hour!
The People how they run and play! .
The crier tells them from the tower
They all can have a holiday.
The King, the clever King, has guessed
What long to him a riddle's been:
The dumplings-but you know the rest-
How did they get the apples in ?
He was too proud to ask the cook,
As you or I at once would do;
He 'd sit and think-he 'd sit and look.
At last he jumped up crying, "Pooh!
I know it now! Let glad bells chime--
Go, bid the people run and play,
Although it is the market-time
They all shall have a holiday Lee Carter.





































































Th5- Izfrnbtl Coamet felt- cLopresse-dc,-
L ccase- of colefulA clumna.
Trh Dodor s.Caid,." It seems to mrae
-1-Is )oc.aK hCs got tlhe, mumxzbps."


-ThiS i-gnosis aci ci veort
hoe Nuxrse, cv ,cr-acroo,
Anct she. clicl tell it to Ellteh C.
>AnYL hIe similted somewht''.t o.


--------L._


Yi ~v~e~ELica~ Orinion











A TRUE STORY OF "THE BLESSED BEES."

BY ALICE B. ENGLE.


ONCE upon a time,- not so very long ago,-
a gentleman who had a beautiful garden thought
that it would be very nice to have some bees;
so he bought six or seven hives, and placed
them in the loveliest corner of the garden, under
an old apple-tree. There was a large bed of
mignonette and a small field of clover hard by.
The bees seemed to like their new home very
much, and went to work gathering honey, and
buzzing the while in the cheeriest way.
Now this gentleman not only wanted the
honey that his bees would make, but he wished
to watch the habits of the bees as well, and be-
fore giving you the story, I am going to tell you
one sad little truth and a few facts about bees.
A working-bee lives only six weeks after he
begins his work in the spring. But during that
six weeks he works early and late to gather
the honey-dew and store it away in the hive
for you and me, and for the young bees to
eat the following winter, when they dare not
stir out of the hive. Bees will travel on the
wing six or seven miles to find food or water
if they cannot get it nearer home. One work-
ing-bee can-make only about one teaspoonful
of honey during its lifetime; so it takes an
army of bees to fill one hive full of honey.
Now for the story.
The gentleman had heard that it was a com-
mon thing for beekeepers to use manufactured
honey-comb in their hives. It is made from
beeswax, after the honey is extracted, pressed
into large sheets, and fastened in frames twelve
inches square, and then hung in the hives.
The bees make the cells deeper, fill them with
honey, and cap them over with thin white wax,
to keep the honey in the cell and to keep it
clean and sweet. You see that the bees can
make a little more honey if they do not have to
stop to make the comb. Honey from the man-
ufactured comb is called extracted honey. It
is take from the comb in a machine made
for this purpose. Then the comb is rehung in


the hive, and the bees fill it again. So the gen-
tleman put this kind of comb in three hives;
but in the other hives he left the bees to make
the good old-fashioned kind of honey in the
honey-comb," that is so sweet and beautiful.
One morning the gentleman found that the
bees around one of his hives were flying wildly
in and out, making an angry buzzing the while.
He knew at once that something was wrong,
and that the bees were talking about it.
The gentleman went to the hive and took off
the top and looked in, and found that one of
the large sheets of the manufactured honey-
comb was broken across, and the honey drip-
ping down upon the floor of the hive. The
gentleman thought at once of a way to help the
bees. He pressed the broken comb together,
and back into its place in the frame, and then
took clean white twine, and tied the comb into
the frame, and hung it back in the hive.
Then he went a short distance and watched
and listened to see what the bees would do and
say. The bees flew into and out of the hive
and soon grew quiet, and commenced their
cheerful happy buzzing, without one note of
anger.
The next morning the gentleman went out
again very early, and found the bees quiet and
happy; but he saw something that surprised
him very much. In front of one of the hives
the short grass was white with a fine fuzz or lint.
He examined it closely and found that it was
fine white cotton lint. He said to himself:
"This is the hive that has the mended honey-
comb in it. I will look in."
He took off the top of the hive again, and
what do you think he found?
The bees had mended the broken comb
with beeswax, and then those bright little
things had cut all that twine into bits of fine
lint, and carried it out of the hive, bit by bit,
until there was not the least thread of lint left
on the honey-comb or in the hive.













.y Man.
I if
1 II.


B-1


HOKEY-POKEY Hokey-pokey
Here 's the hokey-pokey man,
With his little cart and can,
Painted green and seeming neat
As the hokey-pokey's sweet.
Where's your money? Have you any?
You can purchase for a penny
Hokey-pokey, sweet and cold,-
For a penny, new or old.

Nice old hokey-pokey man,
Hair so dark and skin so tan,


BY LOUISE MORGAN SILL.

With a smile as bland and free
As his own dear Italy!
With a coaxing voice as well,
Alternating with the bell
Which he rings to make them hear
Hokey-pokey man is near.
See them running swiftly down,
As in ancient Hamelin town,
When the piper led them all,
Prisoned in the mountain-wall:
See them running, every size,
Large and small, and hear their cries,
From the good child to the bad,
From the baby to the lad:
"Bring a penny if you can -
Here's the hokey-pokey man !"

Poor old hokey-pokey man,
With his cart, and bell, and can!
Gone is all his frozen store,
Home he limps to bring some more.
All the children gaily cry,
As they see him passing by
In the mellow evening sun,
When his daily task is done:
"Go and fill your empty can,
Poky hokey-pokey man !"


--------------------- __








ABOUT TURKEYS.

BY MARY R Co. x.


FEW readers of ST. NICHOLAS have known
the anxieties and delights of raising turkeys. I
should like to tell them some of my experiences.
In April your turkey-hens will not stay to-
gether, as they have done all the winter, but
each seems to have a separate secret, and you
will often meet one in the most unexpected
places, far away from the house. Then the
deceitful old turkey-hen will try to look so un-
conscious! She just -goes on plucking at the
grass and weeds, slowly turning first one way
and then another in an aimless fashion; and
when she is sure you are watching her, she will
lead you back and forth, around and around,
sometimes for half a mile. Yet-would you
believe it ?-right here, near by, along the
fence in a clump of grass, or under some dried
brush, or perhaps in the middle of the pear-
orchard, with never a thing to mark the spot,
or in a tangle of blackberry-bushes in the old
graveyard on the cool moist earth is a nest of
speckled eggs! But take care! Do not for
the world put your hand in the nest! You
must take those eggs out with a fresh, clean
spoon-turkeys are "mighty particular," as the
colored people say; but if you don't take them
the crows or the setter dog will. You must
leave her a "nest-egg," of course, and above
all things the hen must not see you do this;
for you and she are playing at hide-and-seek.
Some day you will find her sitting on the
nest, crouched down close to the ground, with
a scared look in her pretty brown eyes. Don't
say a word: trip noiselessly away, and late that
evening give her back those speckled eggs,
slipping them under her with your hand. She
will pluck you, but do not mind that; you and
she will be friends some day.
Once I made a turkey sit in a hen-house
where there was many a rat-hole. She had
been on the eggs four weeks when little turkey-
voices were heard beneath her, and little tur-
key-heads peeped out from among her breast
feathers. When I took her up by both wings,
such plucking and picking and scratching as


-J,



THE GOBBLER.
she did! I looked, and behold! not a turkey-
chick was there. The little things just out of
the shell, obeying the wild instinct of their
nature, had "scooted" in the twinkling of an
eye, leaving a nest of empty shells. I hunted
all over the hen-house, but no sight or sound
of them could be heard, but, as I turned away,
I heard the old hen calling softly; then, more
softly still, came the answers, and from rat-
holes, from wisps of scattered straw, from chips,
from cracks, and from covers, the little ones
came creeping back to the nest. I caught
them, though, after all, and did as an old wo-
man told me. With my finger-nail I scratched
off the little pip at the end of each tiny bill,
and, holding the little turkey firmly and placing
a finger in the bill to keep it open, I crammed
the little pip -which looks like a piece of meal
husk-and a whole grain of black pepper
down each little throat. The black pepper
makes them warm. Then the young turkeys
are treated to a dab of salt grease and snuff,
mixed together in a brown paste, first on the
top of each head, and then under each lit-
tle throat. Their food is now to be wet corn-






ABOUT TURKEYS.


meal and chopped garlic on onion tops-with
an occasional seasoning of black pepper on
damp days. How those little -turkeys like
onion tops! They actually squeal with de-
light when they smell them. What tussling
when two or three are hanging on to the
same piece! What funny little things they are 1
-so weak in their legs, so easily upset, yet so
strong in their bills. You can lift a little turkey
off the ground with an onion top, if he once
gets a firm hold.
And then when there comes a sudden
shower, how you have to run to "shoo" the
old hen and young ones to the coop! The
coop is far from the house, perhaps, and the
turkeys are farther off still, and the old hen al-
ways wants to go in the wrong direction-and
the little turkeys, tame by this time, always
get under your feet, and you have to shuffle
along to keep from stepping on them,--with
your dress outspread to help shoo with. It
would better be an old dress, too, and one that
will wash, for very likely you will be drenched
before you get in. Next the coop must be
covered with an old carpet to keep out the
pelting rain. A healthy turkey-coop is al-
ways very open and airy, being made of pine
sticks crossed at the four covers as in a pig-
pen, with an old board shutter or door on top
for a roof.
I have a great deal to thank my little turkeys
for. They make me get up early. Whatever
may be thought of early rising as a measure of
health for boys and girls, it certainly makes the
turkeys healthy; and you get up at four or five
of a summer morning and turn them out in
the fresh dew. Of course their feet and legs
get wet, making their little bodies look as
if they were perched on long stilts, but that
does no harm. They are very dependent on
dew, and if kept from this pure fresh drink
they would pine away and die.
What queer little things they are, to be sure!
Even though they know you well, when with a
pan of food you go searching and calling the
name you have given them (and, by the way,
you must never change that name), the mother
hen will give a peculiar note of warning, and
quick as a wink not a chick is to be seen! You
part the grass, peep here and-there; you wait-


but not until the old hen, faithful, suspicious
sentinel that she is, tells them in a different
tone that all is well, do they come straggling out
from -where ? There is nothing to hide them
that you see. Now you count-"one, two,
three "-up to eighteen, perhaps; but you are
sure you had twenty-five in the flock! You
feel uneasy; this time they are surely gone.
No, they are not; they are only hiding, and
will come out as soon as you move away.
As turkeys grow older, they become less
timid. Soon you find you have a fine flock
of feathered birds, though thinned out somewhat
by the crows and hawks. The coop begins to
be too small at night. The top fence-rail, hard
by, looks so cool and airy, and is just high
enough, too, for the young wings to reach.
Sometimes they find your shoulders, or even
the top of your head, a good perch. A pretty
sight is to see a long row of dusty-brown half-
grown turkeys crouched close together on the
top fence-rail, heads and tails either way, look-
ing for all the world like beads on a string,
with the mother-wings outstretched to cover
as many children as they can-like a big
locket on the chain!
Then look out for owls!
One's best plan is to get the turkeys to go
to bed in the leafy branches of a tree. Our
two storm-bent catalpas, with leaning trunks,
served my purpose. Such times as I have
had, late in the evening, shooing the sleepy
tribe up the trunk and into the branches of
those catalpas!
My turkeys grew and grew through the long
summer days, and fast became dark, shiny,.
rainbow-hued, long-legged young gobblers or
short-legged hens. They made raids on the
corn-fields, plucked the hearts out of the cab-
bages, and devoured the other vegetables; and
every evening, after the day's foraging was
done, they talked it all over on the lawn.
The young gobblers spread their fan tails, and
bullied the roosters, and strutted around in twos
and threes and dozens, as if performing military
evolutions! Then, one by one, as the stars
came out, up the catalpa-trees they flew, and
soon loomed quiet and dark against the clear
gray sky. Night after night I counted them,
and knew they were all.there.


736







RHYMES OF THE STATES.

By GARRETT NEWKIRK.










Ver-mont we call this pleasant State
Because the hills are green-
h beautiful and rich are they,
:For quarries 1 between






The cattle in theii~es graze,1j
/ Or rest beneathfhe trees;
Sweef golden but er here is mad&,
And Very famous cheese.




T--
-4 And wholesome bread, and&milk, and cream,
And maple-sugar sweet,
How happy must the children be
With such good things to eat.







" Green Mountain -Boys," th'e troops were called ..-
Who followed Genieral Starlk,- -
-And.Ethan Allen, when a. fort
Was captured in the dark~ '-` '


VOL. XXI.-93.







RHYMES OF THE STATES.


Z A --r


To Massachusetts next we come,
/ With Boston, by the sea,
here brave men went aboard the
A nd cast out British tea.
'-.-.-'--"" ," _5_ --- .7.. -"
^'^e H ~^ "


ships

Vt


' K


-re it was, at Bunker Hill, .5
)our forefathers true,
m battle bravely fought '
freedom and for you. ___


Here Plymouth, too, and Lexington,
Each has its tale to tell,
Of men who suffered, men who fougl
And did their duty ,well. .
M, .,,i).-o., ,' m. *~ '.*"I~c ; *.


And Masghusetts has an arm,-* 1
A narrow strip ol land.--
Extending out into the sea._
_ An elbow and a hand.



4'_. ... ~ ~~~.....:~ *4t ... .' :
-- -.... ..... -


L -
--'
.....i .'2 .H r'-- -- L -

-"-_ :. '"_
-.~ .-oL ,


-~
S

-- ~J







RHYMES OF THE STATES.


NOTE.-Vermont is shaped like the head of a hatchet, edge uppermost. Massachusetts has
an arm and hand," in Cape Cod.











PUZZLED BIRDS.


By EDWARD S. MOORE.


AcRoss the Quinepiac River near New
Haven, Connecticut, is a long iron drawbridge
-the Tomlinson Bridge. On the highest
points of the middle of the span are two little


squabbling and shrieking at one another while
feathers fly through the air.
Mr. Powers, who is a close observer, soon
discovered the cause of their strife.


itb&: -


'IT'1


wrr


THE RAWRIDGE TUNED TO LET A VESSEL THROUGH.

THE DRAWBRIDGE TURNED TO LET A VESSEL THROUGH.


iron houses that cover the pieces to which the
supporting cables are attached. These little
houses are meant to be a protection against the
rain, and in winter they are closed by a sort of
iron door, removed only when the machinery is
oiled.
But in the spring, the engineer, Mr. Powers,
takes away these small doors; and then two
couples of birds, a pair of martins and a pair of
sparrows, build nests in these accidental bird-
houses. Though for several years these birds
have been neighbors, they are often at war,


The drawbridge turns upon a pier to let ves-
sels pass, and may be turned either half-way
and then back to its first position, or completely
around so as to change ends.
Whenever the bridge is thus reversed, Mr.
and Mrs. Sparrow, returning from an expedition
in search of nest-building material, or from mar-
keting, perhaps, will find, as they think, those
meddling neighbors, the Martins, at work in the
Sparrows' home-for the turning of the bridge
has brought the martins over to the neighbors'
side.


'-:-, .' .


~


-e
-ci;--


i '-







PUZZLED BIRDS.


11_1. 11


/ IN


THE TOP OF THE BRIDGE, SHOWING THE LITTLE IRON
HOUSES IN WHICH THE BIRDS BUILD.

Amazed by the sudden attack, the Martins
there do their best to defend their home from
those wicked Sparrows-and so the fight will be
continued. As the two iron houses completely
hide the nests, and are just alike, the sparrows
and martins are continually at war whenever
the bridge is turned so as to change its ends.
As soon as he had found out the cause of the
strife, Mr. Powers was careful to return the
bridge always to the same position, and he
found that the birds lived in peace and har-
mony so long as he thus prevented them from
confusing their nests.
Occasionally, however, to test his theory or
to illustrate it to some passing visitor, the engi-
neer will reverse the position of the nests. The
experiment never fails-a quarrel between the
mutually angered birds was always the result.
Mr. Powers says, also, that during the whole
time he has been in charge of the bridge -
seven years--the same comedy has been en-
acted. The two sparrows alone are no match


'ior tile trwo mirrin, bur the\ bring other spar-
ro(vi to lelp tlim, ainrd then tuin out the mar-
tins in short order.
The martins cannot find enough of their own
kind to resist the confederated sparrows.

,' '^


.4. ,:


TRYING TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE.


4./i


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' I 11







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


THIS is the month of roses, my birds tell me,
and, looking around at the happy crowd gathered
here to-day, well may your Jack echo, "This is
the month of roses!" Bless me, I never saw
anything rosier!
WELL, what matters shall we take up to-day, my
boys and girls of June? Ah, here is

A HYPNOTIZED DOG,
THE dear little Schoolma'am and Deacon Green
sometimes talk of hypnotism. He says it is non-
sense, but the little lady does not agree with him.
She says that though it comes from an old Greek
word signifying sleep, it represents a new and very
wide-awake idea. Well, be that as it may, here
comes a letter from England, direct to this Pulpit,
telling of a hypnotized dog; and the dog is not
asleep, it seems. After reading the letter, I be-
gin to think that I have seen something bearing
upon this wide-awake sleep right here in my own
meadow! It is the only thing that explains the
way in which frogs sometimes sit and gaze at them-
selves for hours in a puddle. They 're hypno-
tized, that's what it is-or else I am, from watch-
ing them! Well, here is the letter:
LONDON, ENGLAND.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I thought you might
like to hear about my hypnotized dog. He is a fox-
terrier, and until he came to us he had lived in the coun-
try, generally in a kennel, and had never seen a looking-
glass. Well, the tiles at the side of one of the fireplaces
in our home are dark green and highly glazed, and
"Rake" (the dog) can see himself plainly reflected in
them. He goes and stands with his nose pressed to
his reflection, until its fixed gaze hypnotizes him, and he
goes into a sort of trance. He stands there motionless
sometimes for an hour at a time. Either he thinks it
is another dog, or he is held enthralled by the power of
his own eye.
Your always interested reader, D. M. G.


Now let us have something more lively; for in-
stance, an account of

BEES THAT INTERRUPTED AN AUCTION.
"DEAR Jack-in-the-Pulpit," writes Katie G. B.,
"the Philadelfhia Record of to-day contains so
interesting an account of bees stopping a vendue,
or auction, that I have cut it from the paper for
you, hoping you may decide to show it to the thou-
sands of young folk who, like myself, delight in
your monthly discourses."
Here it is:

BRISTOL, Pa., March 23.-Honey-bees proved more
than a match for 200 men at a public sale yesterday.
When the auctioneer put twenty-five hives of bees
under the hammer, an inquisitive, but imprudent, youth
kicked one of the little homes occupied by about 3000
honey-makers. Instantly there was a warning buzz,
and out filed the bees in companies, regiments, and bri-
gades. The 200 men scattered in as many directions,
pursued by the angry bees. Farmer James T. Vansant
tried to pacify the army of little brown foes, but a few
stings sent him flying after his retreating friends. For
an hour the bees held the situation unopposed. They
then gathered in their hives and the sale proceeded.

A BABY RACOON.
I AM told, my hearers, that ST. NICHOLAS in-
tends to tell you all about racoons this month.
Well, then, you will see the wisdom of my birds
in bringing me this letter and picture from Mr.
Meredith Nugent-a young man who takes my
fancy because he studies animals and their habits,
and notes all their comical ways:

DEAR JACK: Far up on a hillside in the beau-
tiful Adirondacks, little May spends most of the
summer and fall. The house in which she lives
for so many pleasant months, is situated in the
midst of a true fairy-land. And nothing could be
much more fairylike than May's own room. Here
are wild flowers of all kinds, choice gatherings from
the woods adorn the walls, and sweet clinging vines
form a pretty framework for her gable window.
From this window she can look over lovely Keene
Valley across to Mount Porter, and away in the
distance catch a glimpse of Mount Marcy, the high-
est peak in the Adirondacks. May is very fond
of pets, and by her gentle hands numbers of little
animals have been cared for. These she finds
in her back yard-if I may call it so; but it really
is a delightful piece of woods back of the house.
Just imagine having a garden where Mother Part-
ridge trots about with her little chicks, where squir-
rels and chipmunks are constantly playing pranks,
where foxes may be often seen, and occasionally a
deer. Here in these woods May spends most of
her time, running about and enjoying herself until
Whippoorwill sings out that night is near.
I send you a drawing of one of her little pets. It
is a baby racoon-" Coonie," as May called it. A
funnier little fellow it would be hard to find, he was
so lively and so playful. He always washed his
food before eating it, and his.paws he would wash
both before and after eating. Washing was a great







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


hobby of his, always, and a tin dish of water would
make him perfectly happy. If he had not food to
wash, he would collect pebbles and sticks and what-
ever else he could bring to the pan of water, and
give them all a thorough cleaning. Coonie was
very fond of gentlemen; he would climb up to their
shoulders and run all over them; almost before they
realized it he would have taken from their pockets
a knife or money or some other thing, and have
hidden it beyond all finding. The little racoon
was delighted with toys, and for hours would play
with a little doll. When Coonie and May played
together, what a good time they did have, to be
sure May would hold a broom to within a few
inches of the ground, and Coonie would tightly cling
to it, while May would swing the broom and sing
"Rock-a-by Baby," and when she came to Down
went Baby, cradle andall!"she would give the broom
a quick little shake and Coonie would at once drop to
the ground. Yours truly, MEREDITH NUGENT.


WHO CAN ANSWER?

THE little Schoolma'am asks who wrote this
verse,- or a verse very like it?

BECAUSE of one dear childish head,
With golden hair,
To me all little heads
A halo wear;
And for one saintly face I knew,
All babes are fair."

LORD MACAULAY'S RIDDLE.
MANY of you, my hearers, have been interested
in the good old riddle received from Edward T. B.,
and read from this pulpit in April last. Well, you,
and especially E. T. B., may to-day learn the la-
test news concerning it by consulting the ST.
NICHOLAS Letter-box, near by.


.4.
X K'i:


THE PET RACOON AND HIS JAPANESE FRIEND.


















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"WHAT TIME DOES PAPA COME?"
744


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FLORAL ENIGMAS.

By CARO A. DUGAN.

[ST. NICHOLAS asks its young readers for correct solutions of these twenty-three Floral Enigmas.--EDITOR.]


I.
My first is like the little maids
Of Puritan renown,
Who patient sat through sermons long
In good old Plymouth town;
My second grows in gardens fair,
The feast and dance doth grace,
Full many a secret hath been told
Beneath its blushing face;
And winged moths oft flutter where
My whole doth make the evening fair.

iI.
With shining leaves and berries red,
My first doth hang above your head
At closing of the year;
My second comes from Germany,
And on the table oft we see,
It helps to make good cheer;
My whole in stately ranks and tall
Doth overlook the garden wall.

III.
My first is what our baby is
Above a million others;
My second in seclusion lies
With half a dozen brothers;
My whole, in dainty pink and white,
Climbs ever upward toward the light.

IV.
My first for each one of us
Carpets the earth;
My second, in Scotchman's name,
Tells of his birth;
My whole with rich color
Warms forest and field,
And oft to the artist
True pleasure doth yield.

V.
My first would let the world go by
While thinking on his clothes,
VOL. XXI.-94.


He long before the mirror stands,
A grain of dust he loathes;
A king my second oft is called,
Although his royal right
To wear that title has been won
By dint of savage might;
My whole-the lavish gold that Spring
Flings all along her way-
Gladly the little children seize
To help them in their play.

VI.
My first once roamed our forests
A warrior fierce and bold;
And yet, sometimes, in sign of peace,
My second he would hold;
Pluck the fair whiteness of my whole, and lo !
Black with displeasure it full soon doth grow.

VII.
My first is wrinkled and uncouth,
A little garden friend;
My second, when we weary stand,
May some good fortune send!
My whole is found in leafy wood,
In brown, white, scarlet clad,
The fairies, when they give a tea,
Of its support are glad.

VIII.
My first he ever hates and shuns
Who loves the real and true;
My second has to ocean grave
Sent many a ship and crew;
My whole, so tiny, green, and smart,
Is loved by every Irish heart.

Ix.
My first all the little French babies must use
In counting their fingers and toes;
My second in combat doth often appear
The weapon of friendliest foes;
My whole is a tiny bright flower that grows
In field and by roadside, as every child knows.






FLORAL ENIGMAS.


X.
My first is the hue of a sunset cloud,
The glow of a baby's hair,
The apple that gave to a shepherd boy
The hand of Helen the Fair;
My second the weary traveler aids,
'T is cie.ilk!l by many a boy;
M, whole, in richest abundance, fills
The autumn fields with joy.

Xi.
My first roams wild through tropic lands,
In fearful beauty lithe and swift;
My second, in fair purity,
Its lovely face to heaven doth lift;
Unite them and you have my whole,
A gorgeous flower, of such deep dye,
It seems astray from torrid climes
Burning against our northern sky.

XII.
My first is timid, swift, and light,
Sometimes 't is brown, again 't is white;
My second loudly calls for aid,
When fire and flood make hearts afraid;
On rocky heights my whole doth spring
A lovely, fragile, fearless thing.

XIII.
My first, when good, as it should be,
Is yellow, firm, and sweet;
Without my second, no one's tea
Would ever be complete;
My whole so golden is and gay,
It sunshine makes on darkest day.

XIv.
My first was believed in by parson and judge,
And hanged on Gallows Hill;
Some eyes are my second, so full of soft light,
Our own with rapture fill;
My whole in the hand of fortunate wight
Doth tell of sweet waters hidden from sight.

xv.
The bloom and fragrance of my first
Is his who dares the thorn;
My second o'er her graceful head
A halo long hath worn;
My whole doth sweet remembrance wake,
We love it for Ophelia's sake.


xvI-.
My first in English skies
Doth soar and sing;
My second-many a steed
Has felt its sting;
My whole grows blue and tall
By garden wall.

XVII.
Beneath the torn folds of my first
Brave men have fought and died;
My second holds the giant oak
Erect in stately pride;
Delve in wet meadows like a mole
For spicy treasure of my whole.

xvIII.
My first sent brave Siegfried
To Valhalla's joys;
My second holds plenty
Of good "yellow boys";
My whole, the quaint nosegay
Of Puritan maid,
As spice to long sermons
Served often, 't is said.

XIX.
My first beside the fire doth lie
In absolute content;
My second oft by running streams
Its slender boughs has bent;
My whole, in furs of silv'ry gray,
We meet on boisterous March day.

xx.
My first are found in cloisters gray,
My second drawn about their heads,
My whole in sober purple stands
Erect and grave in garden beds.

XXI.
My first rings out a summons that doth stir
Men's hearts to visions of great glory won
On battle-fields; my second flings itself
Along the roadside, laughing in the sun,
And clasps all things in riotous embrace;
My whole has close-sealed buds, and when
these burst
A flood of rich, triumphant color comes
To stir us like the challenge of my first.


JUNK,






FLORAL ENIGMAS..


XXII.
My first walks dewy meadows, My fir
And with her rosy fingers For
Opens the eyes of sleepy flowers My sec
As lovingly she lingers. Yet
My second 's a shining vision, My wi
Men risk their lives to win it, In p
Yet often find, when in their grasp, Gives
No satisfaction in it. Of I
My whole climbs ever skyward, She le
It loves the morning dew, Of
Uplifting cups of purple, And s,
Fair pink, and white, and blue. Fair











DON.


OH! a dear little dog is Don,
With a dash of family pride,
As sleek as satin to look upon,
Frisky and glow-worm-eyed.
He steps like a drummer-boy,
Perking his head up high,
And the cup of his pleasure brims to joy
When Carroll comes with a cry;
For it's "Rats! he says, Rats Rats! he says.
(Or it 's "Cats!" he says.) That 's
When you should see Don!


XXIII.
st is wholesome food
old and young;
*ond is despised,
loved and sung;
hole beside the road,
urple guise,
audience to troops
)utterflies-
arns from them the art
making wings,
ends her seeds abroad
flying things!


He will play at hide-and-seek
With the vim of a brisk north breeze,
Or he '11 crouch all quiet and meek
At a touch on the ivory keys.
Cuddly, and warm, and round,
He will lie like a velvet ball,
But up he '11 leap with a bark and a bound
At the sound of Carroll's call;
For it 's "Rats!" he says, "Rats! Rats!" he says;
(Or it 's "Cats!" he says.) That's
When you should see Don !


Clinton Scollard.


747


d~i~i~B Y~

B $ ~"













THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the 15th of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


BRADNINCH, DEVON, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you might like to
hear from a little Devonshire girl. Devon is such a
pretty county. We live close to Dartmoor, famous for
its beauty. We are very fond of our pretty home. I
have five brothers and sisters. The youngest is only
three months old; I love to take care of him. We have
taken you for eight years. I am afraid I am making my
letter too long, so I remain,
Your affectionate reader, HELEN R. H- .

INDIANAPOLIS, IND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I think more of your paper than
of any other. I think that" Babette is a splendid story.
I happen to be a girl too; but I don't know as I care much,
for in the winter when there is any ice I skate, and in the
summer I rowa boat. I was out skating yesterday, and had
a fine time; I cut a star-I mean I fell down once. I had
a fine time Christmas; I always do. I have eight cousins,
eight aunts and uncles, and one grandmother, a mother
and a father, and five brothers, all living here in Indian-
anolis. On Christmas we all go to Grandma's and have


a fine time. In the evening we have a
show and play blindman's-buff. My
others and uncles have a play; they all dr
up and then act. I am sorry for any b
have n't any relatives where they live.


STATEN ISLAND
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I sh
to you, as I see the other little boys and
I am twelve years old and have a brother
of fourteen, who plays with us. We h
hut in the woods near our house. W
nights after school.
Saturday we have fine times, as we
play; we have an old stove in it, so we
keep ourselves warm. We can cook p
coffee; then we all get around the table
dinner. It is papered inside with picture
at us and says he should think we wol
night, but we are always ready to get
sun goes down. Good-by. Yours t
CHES

GALV
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten ye
three brothers and three sisters. I am
I live in a big stone house with a great
have such a good time.
My uncle built a big hospital,-by th
the money to build it,-and in our stab
room where fifty-two children come ev
sew. Every month each child pays t
now we have made enough money to bu
dren, and we bought beds and everytl
and every year we pay one hundred do


nurse. We do a great deal for those children, and next
door to the hospital there is a place where men and wo-
men are taught to be doctors and trained nurses. My
uncle was my papa's brother, and he died before the hos-
pital was finished, so Papa finished it. My eldest sister
is seventeen, and she is the president of the society.
That there are many little girls who are interested in
such work is the wish of CAROLINE S-- .

WASHINGTON, D. C.
DEAR STi. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years
old, and I enjoy you greatly. Last year I lived in a large
country-place of seventy acres. I had always lived there,
and when I was five or six years old I had a little Shet-
land pony. She was very gentle and also very popular
with all my friends. Sometimes we would let her run
loose in the place, and at the servants' dinner-hour she
would come to the house, walk into the kitchen, and get
a lump of sugar or a piece of bread from every one in
turn. Once she even went so far as to steal a loaf of
bread and eat it. Your interested reader, J. Y. B-.


Punch-and-Judy DRESDEN, SAXONY.
three elder bro- DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for nearly
ress up and paint ten years, but in all that time I have never written to
oys or girls that you. My sister did once, and her letter was printed, so
I hope mine will be interesting enough to be printed too.
MARY D- We are Americans, and although we have been living
abroad for four years we have not forgotten our father-
land by any means. The first winter we were in Europe
, NEW YORK. we were in an English school at Neuilly-sur-Seine, a
would like to write suburb of Paris. The house itself had once been the
girls are writing. chateau of the Duc d'Orleans. All Neuilly was then only
ten, also a cousin a park, but later on it became a suburb of Paris. The
tave built a little house was a very interesting one. There were ever so
'e go over there many doors which led to secret passages that were
sealed up, and ghost-stories were told about nearly all
Shave all day to of them. In the garden there were two statues, one of
can make fire and a sphinx, and the other of the Virgin; both were just
potatoes and make above two secret underground passages, one of which
ve made and have led to the palace at Versailles, and the other to the
es. Papalaughs palace in the Tuileries; but of course when the house
uld stay there all was sold the passages were sealed up. During the
home when the Franco-Prussian war the Prussian soldiers established
ruly, themselves there, and they put their horses in the room
TER A. C- which is now the dining-room. The horses kicked such
big holes into the walls of the room that one can still see
ESTON, TEXAS. the traces of them. Altogether, it was a very interesting
ears old and have old house, but as it was quite near the Seine it was very
the middle child, damp, and so we did not stay there long, but went to a
t big yard, and I French convent in Paris. We were in that beautiful
city three years, and from there we came here to Dresden,
at I mean he gave for music and German. Of course, this city seemed very
le there is a large small to us after Paris, but we are very fond of it all the
ery Saturday and same. The opera is one of our favorite amusements, it
wenty-five cents; being exceptionally fine. The picture-gallery is lovely
y a ward for chil- too. They have the "Sistine Madonna" here, and it is
ing to furnish it, ever so much more beautiful than any of the engravings
llars for a trained or the many copies one sees of it.
*748







THE LETTER-BOX.


Something very funny happened the first time we saw
it, which I must tell you. The picture is placed in a
room all alone, and there are always a great many people
in there. It is just like being in a chapel, as every one
speaks in a whisper. The first time we were there,
there was an artist copying the picture. The copy was
not a very good one, the colors being much too vivid.
Next to us stood a little American boy of about thirteen,
with his mother and sister. His mother was saying how
beautiful the Madonna was, when the little boy turned
round and said, "Well, I like the little one the man is
painting. It is ever so much prettier than the big one "
I imagine the artist would have been flattered if he had
heard the praise.
With many good wishes for the prosperity of dear ST.
NICHOLAS, I am ever your constant reader,
ETHEL H. J--



SAN JOSt, COSTA RICA, CENTRAL AMERICA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have had you only four
months, but I like you very much. I see that you get let-
ters from all over the world, but not any from Costa Rica.
It is a lovely country; we never have snow here as you
have; only rain six months, and six months hot spring
weather. This summer we went to a place called Agua
Caliente, and enjoyed it very much; and every Sunday,
when Papa was to come, I would anxiously wait for ST.
NICHOLAS. There is just by the side of the hotel a
river named Revintazon, and on the other side some
mountains. San Jos6 is in a valley, and is the capital of
the republic. I have a little sister eight and a half years
old, and we both go to school at the college; my sister's
name is Florence, and she cannot read, for she mixes
German, English, and Spanish. We both were born
here, but Papa and Mama are foreigners. In the country
we caught fish in the river. I am eleven years old, and
I hope this will be printed. Now good-by.
From your reader, LILLY M. DE J--


NEW YORK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl ten years old,
and Murphy is my kitten.
Murphy and I would like it very much if you would
put this little account of him in the "Letter-box."
This story is quite true. I am learning to write on
the type-writer. Your devoted reader,
GLADYS C-.

OUR CAT.

I WANT to tell you about our cat, for I have read a
great many stories in ST. NICHOLAS about them.
I will begin by saying he is a pretty black-and-white
kitten and his name -well, I don't think you can guess
his name: it is Minerva Murphy.
He is very curious, so he is sometimes called Curiosity.
The first adventure he had was with the dumb-waiter.
Murphy had jumped on the dumb-waiter to be taken up-
stairs, when I called "Murphy! All at once I heard
the most dreadful yell, and we found that when the
dumb-waiter had come up to the ceiling it had squeezed
his head.
At first we thought he was dead. After a while he
began to fly around as if he were crazy; but he quieted
down all right.
His next adventure was with a ladder. He had been
jumping on and off it.
We heard a crash and a howl, and Murphy came out
dragging his leg behind him. We thought he had
broken his leg, but in about a week he was all right.


We have had him about two months now, and he has
gotten his head shut in a door, his foot caught in a hole,
has been sat on, has run away twice once to the house
next door and once around the corner. And he has been
nearly eaten up by a big cat.
These are all Murphy's adventures up to this time.
GLADYS C-



"NOUS AVONS CHANGE TOUT CELA!"

BY JESSIE MACMILLAN ANDERSON.

THERE used to be a holly season
When for that very jolly reason
Johnny's drum would boom boom / boom quite deafen-
ing to hear;
While Grandpa, smiling round about,
Would laugh at Grandma, quite put out,
And say,"You must remember Christmas comes but
once a year! "

But now St. Nicholas has quite forgotten to be coy,
And comes just once a month to each subscriber-girl
or boy!


BOSTON, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a very curious pet: a

chameleon that we are all very fond of. I have kept it
nearly six months, and as so many children have them
this year I think they might like to know how to keep
them. If a chameleon is in perfect condition he will
shed his skin once every few months. During this time
he should be kept perfectly quiet and warm. It is a
good plan to get the dead moss on trees for it to sleep
in. If this cannot be had, some cotton and rotten bark
should be placed in the box. In feeding it water, put
your finger in the water until perfectly wet, then drop
a little on its nose. A small, low dish of water should
always be put in the box. If the chameleon is hungry,
he will eat from your hand, but some sugar and very
small bits of raw meat should be left with him. They
should be- allowed a good deal of freedom, and soon
become very tame, even coming when called by name.
Put them on green planks if possible. An ordinary
chameleon will not change to very bright colors, only a
reddish brown, bright green, or black.
VIOLA L- .


WATERLOO, OREGON.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little boy ten years old;
I have no sisters or brothers, and all the companions I
have is the ST. NICHOLAS, another young folks' paper,
and a shepherd dog; I believe I like the ST. NICHOLAS
the best of all. I go to school in summer-time, but in
winter it rains too much. I live on a farm with my
mother and father, grandma and grandpa, one mile from
school, and a mile and a half from Waterloo Soda Springs,
a summer resort. I have been helping Father burn down
fir-trees; I think it great fun. I am as glad as the birds
when spring comes. I gather flowers and press them for
specimens. I am saving up canceled,stamps; I have
nearly six hundred. I want to tell you about a little trip
down to Portland with my mother. We took a ride down
the Columbia River, seventy-five miles, on the steamer
Sarah Dixon," last fall, the first time I ever was on a
steamer. If this does not find the waste-basket I will be
happy; this is my first letter for a paper.
Your interested reader, JESSE A- .


749 .









THE Little Schoolma'am requests us to say that
Jack-in-the-Pulpit has received many bright answers to
Lord Macaulay's riddle, sent in by Edward T. B., and
printed in the April ST. NICHOLAS.
F. M. A., of Hampton, Virginia, sends perhaps the
best answer, for she has put it into verse. Here is her
solution:

ANSWER TO THE ENIGMA BY LORD MACAULAY.
"CUT off my head," and "odd" I 'd surely be;
Tailless, I stand a goodly company;
Both head and tail remove and I am naught-
As round an "0" as e'er a child was taught,
Who, seeking on his map the River Dee,
Should dare to say, "It flows into the C."
In this same sea floats, mute, that useful fish,
Whose sounds are found in many a dainty dish,
Its name I give you now, in letters three,
On second thoughts, I '11 send it-C. 0. D.
To make this answer complete, the author adds, a note
explaining that in Macaulay's line, Parent of sweetest
sounds yet mute forever," the word sounds means the
air-bladders of the codfish- which are used in making
gelatine, and are also eaten boiled, being thought a deli-
cacy. Hence (as another correspondent, K. A. S.,"
says) they are Edible, not audible, sounds! "
Correct answers to the riddle have been received also
from the boys and girls named in the following list:


M. A. C., William W. Barrow, F. W. G., M. A. Wil-
cox, Walter Powers, C. T. Allison, W. T. Blatchley,
Taylor N. M., V. L. S., Mary Hazen Finn, Mrs. Eliza-
beth B. Foster, Jane "Staiathomb," "The Lady from
Philadelphia," M. R. J. E., Jessie S. G., Harriet R.
Spaith, M. Locke, Dick Clarke, Rupert S. Johnson, K.
A. S., Elzabeth Flint Wade, Claudice Luther, Emma F.
Stone, "Box 293, Salem, Mass.," Letitia D. M., John
C. W. (who says he is "a boy who went gunning, and
brought down himself" !) Crawford W. (an interested
grown-up), K. A. S., Margaret H. B. (who sends
another versified answer,-a good one,-not claimed to
be original), Lawrence E. W. (who jokingly proposes
to add two lines to the riddle:
Cut into parts, I am and e'er shall be
The dread of empty pockets-C. O. D. "),
"An Old Reader," M. E. P., M. L. T., Bertha S., Elea-
nour M. D., M. R. A. (who says she has a copy of the
riddle, given her by a friend of Macaulay, in which
the next to last line reads, "Beneath whose mighty
depths -" instead of, "And in their mighty depths "),
Alice M. W., "A Curious Reader" (whom we thank for
her letter and the lines she sends), M. M. K., Henry
B., Gracie" (whose rhyming answer is very well done),
Anna L. C., Donald R., J. R., D. B. W. (another
grown-up), W. F. McC., and H. W. B. (who sends a
long and clever prose answer, for which we cannot find
space), F. Pember, M. L. F., I. J. W., V. G. G., M. G.,
L. E. W., L. McE. M., M. C.. S., J. C. H., A. C; H.
(who sends a clever rhyming answer), H. G. W., J. H.
E., R. H. A.







NATURE AND ART.


BY OLIVER HERFORD.

SAID a Lady who wore a swell
cape,
As she viewed a Rhinoceros
agape,
"To think in this age
A Beast in a cage
Is permitted our fashions to
ape!"


\ Thought the Beast in the cage,
"I declare,
One would think that these
Ladies so fair
Who come to the Zoo
Have nothing to do
S---- But copy the things that I
wear "


THE LETTER-BOX.


750













THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS'TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER.
ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. Swift. I. Screw. 2. Sword. 3. Coins. PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Robert Bruce. Cross-words: I. Risks.
4. Shaft. 5. Joint.- CHARADE. Mistle-toe. 2. Onion. 3. Brace. 4. Enact. 5. Rogue. 6. Tiara. 7. Bleak.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Comrades; finals, Memorial. Cross- 8. Ruble. 9. Unite. o1. Cobra. ic. Enemy.
words: i. Chasm. 2. Obese. 3. Madam. 4. Romeo. 5. Aster. PI. Not the word, but the soul of the thing
6. Delhi. 7. Extra. 8. Sepal. Not the name, but the spirit of spring!
DIAMOND. 1. P. 2. Rat. 3. Rabid. 4. Pabulum. 5. Tiled. And so, at morning early,
6. Dud. 7. M.-- CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Francis Drake. Through hedgerows fresh and pearly,
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Bedecked with hawthorn branches
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. And apple blossoms gay,
May has come in,-young May, the beautiful,. Hd ppdle around her,
Weaving the sweetest chaplet of the year. As if some god had crowned her,
DOUBLE OCTAGON. Across : I. Rag. 2. Hares. 3. Agree. Across the dewy woodland
4. Yeast 5. Dye. Comes dancing in the May.
ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS: I. I. A. 2. End. 3. An- TRIPLE ACROSTIC. From i to 8, Honolulu; 9 to x6, Maunaloa;
gel. 4. Dew. 5. L. II. x. L. 2. Tag. 3. Later. 4. Gem. 5. R. 17 to 24, Sandwich. Cross-words: From to 9, Hiram; 2 to io
II. i. L. 2. Wig. 3. Liver. 4. Get. 5. R. IV. L. 2. Wag. opera; 3 to Ii, neveu; 4 to 12, ocean; 5 to 13, llama; 6 to 14,
3. Layer. 4. Get. 5. R. V. i. R. 2. Tan. 3. Rater. 4. New. usual; 7 to 15, lasso; 8 to x6, Utica; 9 to 17, Moses; zo to 18,
5. R. alpha; i to 19, urban; 12 to 20, nomad; x3 to 21, arrow; 14 to 22,
WORD-SQUARE. I. Fusil. 2. Uzema. 3. Sedan. 4. Image. 5. Lanes. Lummi; 15 to 23, optic; x6 to 24, Allah.
To OUR PUZZLERS : Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the s5th 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 MARCH NUMBER were received, before March i5th, from G. B. Dyer-" M. McG."--Paul
Reese--L. O. E.- Josephine Sherwood-"June and Co."-Jo and I-"Maine and Minnesota"--W. L.--Helen C. McCleary--
Illinois "- Eddie N. Moore- Ida Carleton Thallon -" The Wise Five "- Aunt Kate, Mama, and Jamie Arthur G. Lewis Louise
Ingham Adams -Harry and Helene No Name, Philadelphia-" Leather Stocking "- Jessie Chapman and John A. Fletcher-" Uncle
Mung."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March i5th, from Champlin Butts, i -" Columbine and Mari-
gold," 6 T. G. Thomas, Jr., i No Name, Owego, 3-" Cherry Ripe," 3-Arthur Le Grand, 4-Rodney Proctor, 2- Carrie Ches-
ter, i-"Miss Beaver," --Jean M. Rushmore, Francis W. Honeycutt, -Elaine S., 2-" Two Athenians," 6--Jennie C. Vree-
land, 8- F. G. Hinsdale, L. H. K., 3--"Uncas," 1o--Anna Julia Johnson, 3--Ida F. Wildey, 4-Rose Sydney, 5 Elsie
Ratcliffe Caperton, 3 -Florence Cowles, I-Elizabeth L. Foley, --Jessie H. Colrode, x-Annie Williams, -Emma Schmitt, 3-
Lulu Campbell, 3-Bertha N., 4--Bessie Dane, i -" The Three Wise Women," 9-Max, Stella, and Elsa, 3-Leonora and Wil-
marth, 2-Alma Steiner, 3-"Mignon," 3-Lucia C. Robotham, 2-Charlie Corse, 6-"Mama," 9-W. Kidds, --Gaston and
Rob, i- Meta E. Mencke, 2- Louisa E. Jones, 5- M. T., 2- M. F. Lawton, 2 Bessie Brush, 2-Blanche and I, 4- Margaret D.
Buckingham, r Little Don, 5 Daisy Gorham, 3 Harold A. Fisher, 3- L. F. Craig, 3 Margaret Kahl, 3 H. M. Landgraff, 3 -
K. G. S., 2- Allison McKibbin, 6--Effie K. Talboys, 6--Helen Rogers, so--Eleanor Barras, 6--Grace Salmon, 2--Geo. S. Sey-
mour, 8-"We Girls," 7-Estelle and Clarendon, 4-" The Jaberwock, Lady Clare, and The Duchess," xo-Bessie and Eva, 8- Alice
Mildred Blanke and Co., x -"Will O. Tree," 9-"The Clever Two," 7-Rose and Violet, 3-Jeannette and Gertrude Brown, 2-
Edith H. Smith, 4-Hubert L. Bingay, 9-Walter Haight, xs-"Three Blind Mice," 5--A. D. Talbot, 9- Laura M. Zinser, 7-
"Sunnyside," 1o-Mamie C. and Bessie W., 9-"Jinx and Ray," 8-Mama and Chaslie, 7-Helen and Bessie, 6-Kathanne
Parmly, i-Ruth M. Mason, I.


WORD-SQUARE.

I. A sambo. 2. Audibly. 3. A large quadruped. 4.
A. statue. 5. A kind of theater in ancient Greece.
SAMUEL SYDNEY."
PI.
RAIF dan geren si het sharm ni unje;
Dwie dan wram si eht snyun nono.
Het wireflong shures grifen het loop
Whit drenels swodsha, mid dan loco.
Romf eht wol shebus "bbo twihe" slale;
Toni shi snet a lorefase slafl,
Het glubflea defas; dan ghrouth bet hate,
Raf fof, eht sae's fanit slupse tabe.

ANAGRAM.
A TITLE often applied to Hippocrates:

DO THE INFIRM FEET ACHE?

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
ALL the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below
the other, the central letters will spell the name of a
character in the Iliad.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A pattern of excellence or perfec-
tion. 2. The close of the day. 3. Screening. 4. To


take away. 5. The lowest degree of honor that is heredi-
tary. 6. A kind of ant, abundant in tropical countries,
and noted for its destructive habits. 7. To twine around.
8. Earnest. 9. Pekans. o1. To separate.
SAMUEL SYDNEY."

CONNECTED SQUARES.






a 5
*





I. UPPER SQUARE: I. A burden. 2. At one time.
3. A continued pain. 4. An exploit.
II. MIDDLE SQUARE: I. To observe. 2. A whirl-
pool. 3. To move sideways. 4. Colored.
III. LOWER SQUARE: I. Precious stones. 2. To
prepare for publication. 3. A transparent mineral. 4. To
tarry. H. W. E.








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


DROP-LETTER PROVERBS.
I. A b*r*t *h*l* d*e*d* t*e *i*e.
2. E*o*g* i* a* g*o* a* a *e*s*.
3. A *r*e*d *n *e*d *s f*i*n* i*d*e*.
4. T*o *a*y *o*k* s*o*l *h* b*o*h. "CALAMUS."
DIVIDED WORDS.
EXAMPLE: Take half of a costly metal, and two thirds
of a public house, and form a word meaning to control.
Answer, go-ld, ta-vern; govern.
I. Take halfof a partof a gun, and half of a
depression between hills, and make a kind
of grain.
2. Take half of one of the months,
and half of imperfect, and make some-
thing new.
3. Take half of to give up, and two
thirds of skilful, and make always.
4. Take half of magnificent, and
half of plainly, and make to pro-
vide.
5. Take half of a beautiful com-
bination of metals, and half of to ex-
clude the light, and make shattered. .
H. W. E.

ILLUSTRATED
METAMORPHOSIS.

THE problem is to change
one given word to another
given word, by altering
one letter at a time, each
alteration making a new
word, the number of let-
ters being always the
same, and the letters re-
maining always in the same
order. Example: Change
lamp to fire in four moves.
Answer: lamp, lame, fame,
fare, fire.
In the accompany-
ing picture, change
BIRD to CAGE in
four moves. Then
change BIRD to
NEST in six moves.
Each change
is shown in
the illus-
tration.


of enormous length and volume. 5. A river of Wis-
consin. 6. A river of South Carolina. 7. A river of
Mexico. 8. A large river of Asia. 9. A river of Texas.
Io. A river of Eastern Asia. II. A river of Africa.
12. A river of Europe, emptying into the Mediterra-
nean. 13. A river of China. 14. A river of Southern
Asia. 15. A great river of Western Africa. 16. A river
of Spain. E. W. W.
ZIGZAG.
ALL of the words described contain the
same number of letters. When rightly
guessed, and placed one below another,
in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand
corner, will spell a famous event
which occurred on June 28, over
fifty years ago.
-\ CROSS-WORDS: I. To stuff. 2. A
monk's hood. 3. To divide into
--two or more branches. 4. The
S' lowest point. 5. Hypocrisy. 6.
"' -A venomous tooth of a serpent.
S/ 1 7. A ponderous volume. 8.
A small animal valued for
its fur. 9. A stain. Io.
To keep clear of. I.
The god of love. 12. At
a distance. 13. To
leave. 14. To be in
a rage. 15. A Nor-
Swegian snow-shoe.

17. One of a series
of berths placed
in tiers. I8. A
popular Roman
poet, the author of
Metamorphoses."
g19. The goddess of
the rainbow. 20. Tart.
21. A very small quan-
tity or degree. 22. The
eminent Roman patriot
who said, Carthage
must be destroyed "
23. A jolly time.
24. The most cele-
brated river of the
ancient world.
25. Parched
with heat.
SC. B.


A FLUMINOUS ENIGMA. HOUR-GLASS.


WHEN the names of the following rivers have been
rightly guessed, and placed one below another, the initials
will spell a name sometimes given to the Hudson River.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A river of Italy. 2. A river of
Massachusetts. 3. A river of Germany. 4. A river


MY central letters, reading downward, spell a name
given to the northern portion of Africa.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Cross and cynical. 2. Low, vulgar
language. 3. Skill. 4. In barbarous. 5. Part of a lo-
comotive. 6. A low style of comedy. 7. Actors.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


752




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