• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Frontispiece
 The admiral and the midshipmit...
 Front Matter
 The whistler
 The sign-post
 American bicyclers at Mont St....
 Decatur and Somers
 The wasp and the spider
 A bonny bicycle
 G. Whillikens
 Happy go lucky
 How meta saved the mill
 James Fenimore Cooper
 In the path of a sound steamer
 Troubled
 A one-seded correspondence
 A bowl of honey
 The whippoorwill
 My chum
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 The bears of North America
 The daughters of Zeus
 The miller's quest: a floury...
 The story of the lake
 Glimpses of central park anima...
 A plucky Connecticut girl
 In the fields
 The tides
 Dora and her ring
 The brothers
 Rhymes of the states
 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/UF00065513/00286
 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: VID00286
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 842
    The admiral and the midshipmite
        Page 843
        Page 844
        Page 845
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    The whistler
        Page 846
    The sign-post
        Page 847
    American bicyclers at Mont St. Michel
        Page 848
        Page 849
        Page 850
        Page 851
        Page 852
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
    Decatur and Somers
        Page 856
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
    The wasp and the spider
        Page 860
    A bonny bicycle
        Page 861
    G. Whillikens
        Page 862
        Page 863
        Page 864
        Page 865
    Happy go lucky
        Page 866
    How meta saved the mill
        Page 867
        Page 868
        Page 869
        Page 870
        Page 871
    James Fenimore Cooper
        Page 872
        Page 873
        Page 874
        Page 875
        Page 876
        Page 877
    In the path of a sound steamer
        Page 878
        Page 879
        Page 880
    Troubled
        Page 881
    A one-seded correspondence
        Page 882
        Page 883
        Page 884
        Page 885
    A bowl of honey
        Page 886
    The whippoorwill
        Page 887
    My chum
        Page 887
        Page 888
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 889
        Page 890
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
        Page 894
        Page 895
        Page 896
        Page 897
    The bears of North America
        Page 898
        Page 899
        Page 900
        Page 901
        Page 902
        Page 903
        Page 904
    The daughters of Zeus
        Page 905
        Page 906
        Page 907
        Page 908
        Page 909
    The miller's quest: a floury tale
        Page 910
        Page 911
    The story of the lake
        Page 912
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
    Glimpses of central park animals
        Page 916
        Page 917
    A plucky Connecticut girl
        Page 918
        Page 919
    In the fields
        Page 920
    The tides
        Page 920
    Dora and her ring
        Page 921
    The brothers
        Page 921
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 922
        Page 923
    The letter-box
        Page 924
        Page 925
        Page 926
    The riddle-box
        Page 927
        Page 928
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text














































I' "
r'",









































DRAWN BY ALERT E. STERNER.
A DAY IN THE WOODS.
A DAY IN THE WOODS.



















ST. NICHOLAS.



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


THE ADMIRAL AND THE MIDSHIPMITE.

By MARY MURDOCH MASON.


THE Admiral was eleven years old. He had
fine gray-blue eyes and a mouth born to com-
mand. He could stand on a raft from 9 A. M.
to 6 P. M. in his bare legs and feet without tak-
ing cold. Once the Admiral woke his mother
at five in the morning to beg her to feel his
calves:
Hard as bullets, Mama, hard as bullets,"
said he. The only part of me that 's in really
good condition." Then the Admiral turned
over and went to sleep with a sigh, hoping for
better days.
The Admiral loved the sea, and, with the
bigotry of the born sailor, he hated dry land-
always wanted to kick a mountain whenever
he saw one, he said. When a land breeze
blew, he looked a bit peaked, but once let the
sea air come rolling in on an east wind, and he
was "all there," standing on his raft, with his
sea-legs on,-legs lean, bare, brown, hard-
calved,-and he poled along the river bank
from Leander's wharf to the other piers in a
blissful state.
There were two other boys who helped to
form the raft's crew,-the first and second
mate,-and they all loved their boat as jockeys
love their winning horses, or mothers their first


babies. There was another raft, too, with a
crew of three boys, but the Admiral was on the"
flag-ship, of course. To the eye of an ordinary
observer it seemed, as it lay high and dry on the
mud-flats at low tide, simply a bit of old board-
walk utilized as a boat. Far be it from me, how-
ever, to suggest such a thing. To the Admiral
and the crew, it had nobility and beauty and
was vastly superior to the other raft, which, if
you like, was only a relic of the walk" to the
beach. The flag-ship bore herself proudly, let
herself be poled swiftly,-as rafts go,-and
leaked only just enough to make the sport truly
nautical.
The Admiral had a dog, a fine fellow of a
dog, too,-a fox-terrier, with a lovely jaunty
black patch over his left eye, and a soul above
fear; and the love of the sea was born in him
as it was in his master. The dog was always
on the raft, barking at the crew of the raft be-
hind, or looking into the water, or lying or
standing proudly about. He was called the
Midshipmite, as the youngest and handsomest
of the crew. When there was presented to the
Admiral a fine tin horn through which to issue
his orders, the Midshipmite received a beautiful
big Jackson ball, which he rolled around under


VOL. XXI.


No. 10.






THE ADMIRAL AND THE MIDSHIPMITE.


his tongue for an hour or more, before he lost
it overboard. If possible, the Admiral loved
the Midshipmite even more than he loved the
raft, or his title, or the ocean itself. They were
always together. Every morning at twelve
they swam in the surf, and every evening they
had their little romp together before bedtime.
One night there came a wild wind flying up
the coast. Wise men said it was the tail of a
southern cyclone; but whatever it was, it was a
tearer, and broke and bent and tore down and
wrought destruction and death, and brought
sorrow and loss along the shore. But up at
the peaceful harbor in Maine it did no great
damage. Not a ship was lost, though had it
not been for the courage and skill of the Mid-
shipmite and his Admiral, their flag-ship would
now be a mere wreck, or a derelict haunting
the northern sea off our rocky coast. For the
raft, though well secured by her owners the
night before in the inlet, had broken her moor-
ings and drifted away with wind and tide from
the snug little home in the tiny bay, out into
the big river, and was rapidly on her way to
sea.
The Admiral, holding on to himself by the
strength of his calves, and the Midshipmite
pattering safely behind on his four little legs,
ran down to see about the flag-ship the mo-
ment they put their noses out of doors into the
flying mist and screaming breeze that filled the
air. Off they ran to the inlet, which looked
like a miniature sea lashed into myriad white-
caps. The good ship was gone! Down to the
pier, beyond it, further, further they ran, the
Admiral with his heart in his mouth, the Mid-
shipmite with his tongue hanging out from pure
excitement. They saw the raft in the current,
not far from the land, but making for the ocean.
All sorts of notions popped into the Admiral's
mind. To blow his horn was only the work
of a second-a loud, clear blast. That would
bring the crew in a few moments. They would
all be "in at the death," at least, and see the
last of their good old ship. So the Admiral
blew his horn.
The sound seemed to inspire the Midship-
mite; he gave a sudden bark, a swift plunge,
and he was in the waves, fighting the white-
caps, and making for the raft. Oh, Middy,


Middy, come here, come back! cried the poor
Admiral, but Middy never turned. He reached
the raft, by a sort of miracle, at last, boarded
her, and stood there helpless but proud. Drift-
ing away from his master, he still held his
ground, and turned a courageous face, as if to
say: "Here I am, Admiral. Alone I can do
nothing. I cannot even use a pole; but make
use of me, make use of me, my Admiral. With
your intelligence and my courage, we should
surely do something "; but all the while he was
drifting away, nearer and nearer to where the
river turns and sweeps boldly out to the great
Atlantic. The Admiral did not see the other
boys or the boatman, who had heard his call
and were running toward him. He saw only
the Midshipmite and his ship drifting away, and
himself--a feeble child in spite of his strong
legs--watching them go to their death. Then
his little brain worked hard and fast. How to
help-how to help? He put his hand in his
pocket. Ah, he had it! He drew out a long,
strong fish-line, with a big lead sinker on the
end. Then he blew his horn again. The Mid-
shipmite gave a short, sharp, respectful bark in
reply to the-Admiral's signal. Aye, aye, sir,"
it seemed to say; I 'm ready, sir." When the
Admiral saw that Middy understood, he wound
the string about his waist twice, then clutched
tightly at a shrub growing on the rocks, and,
taking the sinker in his hand, threw it- he was
pitcher on the nine at school at the raft. By
skill, and good luck, it hit the ship, and-presto!
the Midshipmite had it in his mouth, taut. He
had his sea-legs on then, had the Middy, and,
with all four stretched and pulling against wind
and tide, he stood on the frail planking. Come,
good fellow; come, Middy!" cried the Admiral,

and pulled on the line as-signal.
No! The noble junior officer would not de-
sert the sinking ship He held the lead in his
teeth, still drifting away. The Admiral was
obliged to let out the line at last, unwillingly
and gradually. And then he had to .leave the
friendly tree, and run along the shore, for, like
the Middy, he, too, would not let go.
The boatman who saw it said he had a lump
in his throat as he watched the bare-headed
little fellow "a-runnin' alongside o' that 'ere
dog, and both a-dyin' game, sir. I would n't-






THE ADMIRAL AND THE MIDSHIPMITE.


'most-'a' done it for a
man," he said, "for the
tide 's awful strong out
there, but-"
But he did it for a
dog. Yes, Leander got
out his dory, and by F .
the time the other of-
ficers were running with
the Admiral, holding .
on to the heavy twine,
-the Admiral, still
cool of head, though
short of wind, and cau-
tioning them against too
hard pulling,- why,
the boatman was along-
side the dog and raft.
He called to Middy,
but Middy stuck to
the ship, and so they ---
were both towed in be-
hind Leander and the
i -- ~---- ---..
dory. It was only a
short distance to cover
after all; and in a few moments the poor ol
raft, leaking, and looking more like a bit o:
dilapidated planking than ever to the eye of


THE RESCUE OF THE MIDSHIPMITE.

1 land-lubber, was securely moored to the rocks
F by her proud and loyal crew.
a And the Midshipmite was in the Admiral's


"'THREE CHEERS FOR THE ADMIRAL AND THE MIDSHIPMITE'" (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


1894.]

















































































"


Fi :i':~

,~






THE ADMIRAL AND THE MIDSHIPMITE.


arms. He forgot rank; so did the Admiral.
Middy dropped the lead sinker into his master's
hand, and the two were so wet and so salty that
one did not know where the tears began, and
where the sea ended. Then the Midshipmite
gave the other officers his right hand, for he
was a wise dog, and remembered that he was
an officer, too; and then they all went home to
breakfast with very hearty appetites.
Next day, when the storm was over, there
was a pretty scene of triumph. The flag-ship,
adorned with an American flag and a Yale flag
and a big F. S., meaning Fay School, was
launched before a hundred people, more or
less. There was the Admiral's mother, and the
mothers of other sailors; there were proud big
brothers and envious younger brothers, and
Leander and friendly boatmen, and lovers of
boys a crowd in all. The other raft followed
humbly, yet proudly, in line, with her display
of bunting, too; and on the flag-ship stood the
Admiral, straight and strong, with his trumpet
in his hand, and the Midshipmite, with a great


bunch of sweet-peas tied to his collar, lay
quietly at his feet, waiting the word of com-
mand; the rest of the crew at the poles. The
Admiral blew the horn, the men at the poles
dipped oars, and the Midshipmite barked:
" Ready, aye, ready, sir," and the raft heaved
slowly ahead.
It was Leander on the pier who shouted,
"Three cheers for the Admiral and the Mid-
shipmite! Three times three!" "And for the
flag-ship, too!" cried the crowd altogether.
"Rah, rah, rah !-rah, rah, rah!-rah, rah,
rah!" rang out in all sorts of voices from the
mother's teary, trembling tones, to the strong
shouts of the Maine fishermen.
Leander said he had another lump in his
throat when the Admiral lifted the Midship-
mite and held him up close to his face, where
every one could see him.
The Admiral looked very flushed and happy
and a little proud, but the Midshipmite, like a
true sailor-hero, simply looked brave and calm
and contented.


THE WHISTLER.

HE came up over the hill
In the flush of the early morn,
And he blew his whistle shrill
Till the blackbirds, down in the corn,
And the robins, all were still.

And the leaves began to lean,
And the little blades of grass,
And the lily garden-queen,
All eager to see him pass,-
He of the frolic mien.

They watched for his back-tossed hair,
And his peachy lips a-purse,
And his tanned cheeks full and fair,
As he flung a flute-like verse
Into every nook of the air.

But never a trace could they find
Of his form, though they knew him near,
And their bright eyes were not blind; -
You will marvel not to hear
That the whistler was the wind.


846


Clinton Scollard.







THE SIGN-POST.

BY RUDOLPH F. BUNNER.


IF, in the green of the woods, one day,
You came to a place where the fairies play,
And a little sign-post stood on the ground,
With four little paths from all around,
And if you could choose to go either way,
But wherever you went you knew you must stay
For ever and ever and a day-
And if one road led to the land of snow,
Of the chimney-fires and where snowballs grow;
And the next led off to the Autumn hills
Of the morning frosts and the cider-mills;
And still through the woods, but far away,
The third lane led to the holiday
Where long midsummer hours you spend;
And if -springtime lay at the fourth road's end,
Where arbutus hides and wake-robins blow,-
Which would you choose and where would you go ?










AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.

By EDWARD H. ELWELL, JR.


WE were a party of twenty-three touring
American cyclists, all architects or students of
architecture. As we journeyed through Brit-
tany on our way northward to the coast, it
was with much satisfaction that we looked for-
ward to a glimpse of the ocean again. We
had been wheeling for five weeks through the
interior of France, and we felt that the salt
sea-breezes would prove most refreshing.
Our goal was the Mont St. Michel (Mount
of St. Michael), which is situated at the mouth
of a little river that forms the boundary be-
tween Brittany and Normandy. It empties its
waters into a great gulf, inclosed between two
points of land, which are fourteen miles apart
and nearly as long.
Imagine the area thus inclosed to be a vast
expanse, not of water but of sand-beautiful,
shimmering, treacherous sand, ever changing in
color as the clouds cast their shadows upon it,
or the retreating tide spreads its darkening
dampness, or the sun pours down its bleaching
heat. Only at the highest tides does the ocean
fill the entire gulf as far as the low, wooded
shores at the mouth of the river. Then the
water comes rushing for miles over the level
waste, and woe to the man or beast that lingers
before it! Nothing but wings can escape the
speed of its foaming billows. But the usual
tide spreads a thin layer of water only to within
a mile from the head of the gulf, except in the
various channels and hollows; and as it slowly
recedes, marking the shape of its wavelets upon
the glittering sand, for acres and acres the eye
cannot detect where sand begins and water
ends, unless, maybe, the distant figure of a man
appears to solve the problem.
But finally the ocean recedes behind the ho-
rizon, and the blue of the sky comes down to
the yellows and grays of the sand. From prom-
ontory to promontory, of which the one can
just be seen from the other, and from wooded
shore to horizon line, where a distant sail alone
tells of the ocean, there is nothing to break the


surface of this enormous sandy beach except
two gigantic rocks rising abruptly out of it.
Geologists claim that in the times before there
were men on earth this immense gulf was a
mighty forest, that slowly sank beneath the sur-
face with the sinking of the coast, leaving only
the peaks of two mountains, and that those
peaks are now these' rocky islets.
Both, indeed, are marvels of nature's archi-
tecture, in the sublimity of their huge bulks
that rise above the sand; but the larger of
them is more wonderful still as the site of a
marvel of the architecture of man. The Mont
St. Michel is nearly two miles from the mouth
of the river. It is but fifteen minutes' walk
around the rocky-beach at its base. Its height
is over 350 feet. Its sides are nearly as steep
as the side of a house.
For ages it has been the site of some religious
building. The Romans found a heathen tem-
ple there, and replaced it by an altar to their
own Jupiter. The coming of Christianity saw
the beginning of the present wonderful struc-
tures, the growth of centuries. The top of the
rock is just large enough for the beautiful
Gothic cathedral that covers it. In size, de-
tail, and carving it equals many of the most fa-
mous cathedrals of Europe. Above part of the
building there is a promenade that is 450 feet
above the sand. Around the base of the cathe-
dral, and of course built upon the steep, rocky
slopes, is a mass of huge stone buildings that
have served through the centuries as monas-
tery, prison, and feudal stronghold. They con-
ceal all but the upper half of the cathedral,
which they entirely surround. The lowest
foundation is 150 feet above the sand.
The whole constitutes one mighty structure,
a vast maze of great stone halls, with rows of
carved pillars, of endless passages, broad flights
of steps and spiral stairways, of horrible dun-
geons and gloomy vaults. The stone of which
it is built was all brought from the mainland,
nearly two miles, and, of course, hauled over





AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


the sand. Block by block, the stone was
brought across the sands, hoisted up the steep
cliffs by means of windlasses, and then shaped
and carved with infinite patience and rare
skill. The building went on at different times
between the 9th and 14th centuries; and since


side of the Mount. There is room for just one
short, narrow street, behind the high walls that
rise from the edge of the sand. On all other
sides the steepness of the cliff itself is its de-
fense. In the village there are about two
hundred people, descendants of the original in-


- -- 2 ---i -, 'A'-


MONT ST. MICHEL FROM THE SEA.


then separate parts have been many times de-
stroyed and restored. The architectural beauty
and wonderful carving of these buildings would
alone make them famous. But because of their
unique location, and also because they were
built by the monks who possessed here a little
kingdom of their own,- so rich and powerful
were they when they accomplished the stupen-
dous task,-this crowning glory of Mont St.
Michel will long remain one of the marvels of
the world, and be to France almost what the
Pyramids are to Egypt.
There is a tiny village on the only accessible


habitants of the mainland, who fled into places
of safety before the attacks of the Norsemen,
over one thousand years ago. They are all
fishermen, except the proprietors of the three
hotels. It is but recently that this quaint little
village, so queerly located, has been made
accessible to visitors unless under the guidance
of those who had learned by experience how
to cross the sand and escape its dangers. For
in numerous and ever-changing places the sur-
face is as yielding as that of the ocean itself,
and strong indeed would be the swimmer who
could support himself in a quicksand !


849






AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


But nine years ago the French government we were allowed to enter the great gateway
built a magnificent dike or stone causeway from of this mighty stronghold, that never once
the shore to the Mount, and over its smooth yielded to the assaults of the English in the
surface we hastened, that September afternoon, Hundred Years' War," though throughout
on our swift wheels, eager to reach the wonder- the rest of northern France the English arms
ful rock and its still more wonderful buildings, had been victorious, and they would have con-
that had loomed before our vision during a whole quered the entire country except for brave
hour of rapid riding. Joan of Arc, the "Maid of Orleans." It was
in 1434, a few years after
-she had saved Orleans,
~- that the English made a
last mighty effort to cap-
S ture Mont St. Michel,
__- and gathered upon the
sands an army of 20,000
men. The battle was
fierce and terrible, but
S1they were forced to with-
Sdraw, leaving behind
S '.them 2000 slain and two
huge cannon, then called
michZeletes.
SThese two great guns,
i ~---..o among the earliest used
_I -in Europe, were the first
sit '- 7 objects to attract our at-
"tention when we entered
the gateway in the wall.
_I" They are, perhaps, fifteen
SX-~-. -.feet long, and in their
great muzzles and on the
-v ground below are several
S of the round stone balls,
E nearly two feet through,
Beet tthat they had hurled
te d iert against the fortress, to so
little purpose, more than
0 f four and a half centu-
ries ago.
The narrow street
passed under another
giant gateway, a few
.- t rods farther on, close be-
side which was our hotel,
a tall modern building of
stone. Madame Poulard,
its famous proprietor,
THE COURTYARD IN FRONT OF THE HOTEL. was waiting to receive
was waiting to receive
Beneath the frowning ramparts, the porters us. Of course our manager had notified her be-
of the different hotels besieged us, but finally forehand, and we found that the arrival there


850






AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


of twenty-three wheelmen was an event of
quite as much importance as it had always
been elsewhere.
Our genial hostess, after we had put our
bicycles in a place prepared for them, con-
ducted us through the
kitchen of her hotel,
-the front room, as
is often the case in
France,- where a
dozen chickens were
roasting on a slowly-
turning spit before the
fireplace, and thence
up two flights of stairs,
and, opening a door,
ushered us-not to
our rooms, but out of
doors on top of the
ramparts. A long
flight of stone steps .
led backward toward 4s
the monastery. We
began to realize that
her hotel, because of
the peculiarity of the
site, was distributed in
sections on different
terraces of the narrow -. '-
and steeply-sloping
patch of rock to which THE MAIN ENTRANCE
the village clings.
At the top of the steps we passed a long red
building, containing rooms, all occupied by
guests, and still farther up we approached the
third section of the Hotel Poulard," and found
that it had been given over wholly to us.
There were just twenty-three beds in it, and
we could decide for ourselves to whom each
should belong.
They were, with the exception of some in
Paris, the best-furnished and cleanest rooms
that we had found in France, and the view
from their windows is one of the finest in
the world. We were above the village and
just below the base of the monastery; and
the strange charm of both, combined with
the still more fascinating sea of sand, held us
with a power all its own. From a few tiny
black specks upon the grayish-yellow ocean,


5H
If


there floated up to us a faint, weird music. It
was the singing of some of the village women,
as they dug in the sand with their fingers for


the little cockles which make a large part of
the food of the people. Winter and summer,
day after day, the wo-
i men and children thus
add to the general
food-supply, while the
men and boys are oc-
cupied in fishing.
Such a thing as
privation is unknown
at Mont St. Michel.
We were thrilled by
S this distant singing
when shouts of anger,
i" n good plain English,
J called our attention
to the stone stairway.
There we saw one of
our party who had
S arrived behind and
f 'i alone, struggling up-
ward with his heavily-
S laden bicycle, and
r.. making unpleasant re-
marks about the hotel-
porters in particular
S- and the whole world
Sin general. How
TO THE OLD CASTLE.
should he know, who
understood no word-of the native "jargon,"
that the bicycles were to be left below? As
he approached along the causeway, he had
seen us in our lofty abode and had made
straight for us, mounting the ramparts by
a stairway outside the hotel, and resisting the
frantic gestures and "gibberish" of the hotel
people, in their efforts to make him leave his be-
loved bicycle behind. How could he know that
the hotel was in sections? He thought the people
below were trying to induce him to go to another
hotel and he did not intend to leave his party.
But the charm of the situation and surround-
ings soon dispelled his disgust, and as we all sat
down to the excellent dinner, there never was a
merrier, happier party of wheelmen in the world.
That night some of us were awakened by a
deep and ever increasing roar, that seemed to






AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


surround us upon every side with its tremen-
dous sound. It was the thunder of the in-
coming ocean over the waste of sand; and we
fell asleep with a consciousness of perfect safety
in the very midst of the approaching waters.
Of course the first thing in the morning was
to follow the guide through the labyrinth of the
huge buildings above us, to gaze at the marvels
of architecture, and to creep into the dungeons.


them a living. One longs to examine the many
rows of fish-traps, that are placed upon the sand
before the tide comes in, and are full of sole and
flounders when the tide goes out; and also to
see the differences of the surface by which the
guides detect the quicksands. The very danger
is attractive.
And what could be more enticing than to ac-
company a group of the picturesque fishermen,


MONT ST. MICHEL. THE KNIGHTS' HALL.


Although it was late in the season, the hotel
was crowded; and large parties, mostly of
French people, were making the tour of inspec-
tion. The majority of the visitors came only
for the day, and we were told that about forty
thousand come every year.
After the tour through the monastery, a walk
upon the sand is next in order at Mont St.
Michel. The vast level waste possesses a mys-
terious fascination. The stranger longs to follow
the brown-legged natives, who are always com-
ing and going over their queer domain, that in
its double nature of earth and water yields to


with baskets on backs, and nets in hand, as they
direct their steps toward one of the outflowing
rivers of the tide, that are left in the hollow
places. Old men and young boys join in the
endeavor to catch the little bluish fish, a few
inches long, that dart hither and thither in
the shallow water, and reveal their locality
by the wake they leave behind them. The old
men content themselves with a still hunt. They
stand in one place, slowly turning, with watch-
ful eye; and woe to the fish that comes within
the sweep of their nets. But the young men
and the boys engage in the chase. The water


852






AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


is but four or
five inches in
depth. With
stealthy, high
mincingsteps
and leaps, so
as to splash
as little as
possible, they
follow their
tiny quarry
until at last
the open net t
isdeftlyswept
beneath it.
Sometimes
the fish flee-
ing from one L
net becomes -
the victim of
another, and '
now and then '
a lazy fish-
erman thus _.'j -
coolly takes
advantage of
a more active
companion.
And then a
whirlwind of
high-pitched
voices comes
pealing over
the sand, for
the Bretons
are not as
good-natured
nor as sweet-
tempered as
some other
folk of France.
However, the
fishermencon- VIEW OF THE TOWN AND
fishermencon-
fine themselves to language; but enough of that
is poured forth for sometimes a quarter of an
hour, at a seeming climax of anger, to keep the
stranger in constant dread of a terrible tragedy.
But can one ride a bicycle upon the sand?
That was our great problem, and the theme of
talk till the question was settled. It appeared so


1


HE' -THE EASTERN RAMPARTS.
.. ..... ,'-- .. *'_ s. .t
THE CATHEDRAL FROM THE EASTERN RAMPARTS.


smooth of surface, so macadamized," so to speak,
by the weight of the water, that it was thought
possible, by some of our party, that pneumatic
tires would roll over it with ease. So, counting
upon this, we had visions of a delightfully unique
journey to Avranches, our next destination on
the distant coast of the bay.


1894.1






AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


But where the sand was wet, it was slippery
and roughened by the tiny hard ridges left by
the wavelets; and where it was dry, the tires
sank into it. Besides, no muscle could over-
come its 'deadness. It seemed to cling to the
tires like glue.
However, the enthusiasts would not give up
their longed-for journey across the sands. They
would traverse the four miles on foot, hiring a
guide with his cart to carry their bicycles. The
rest of us might ride the eighteen miles back
over the causeway and around the shore, if we
liked. They would be in Avranches, and at
work with pencils and sketch-books, hours be-
fore we could arrive.
So at nine o'clock in the morning we bade
farewell to Madame Poulard, the quaint village,
and the grimly beautiful pile of architecture on
top of the mighty rock, left our five companions
negotiating with the guide, and pedaled away
over the smooth boulevard of the causeway.
An easy run brought us to Avranches by
eleven o'clock. Our companions had not ar-
rived. An hour passed, it was time for dinner,


yet they came not. After we had nearly fin-
ished the meal we were all startled by the appa-
rition of a face at the window,-in fact, the
very ghost of the ruddy countenance of our
Boston comrade as we had last seen him at
Mont St. Michel.
In a few minutes all five of the tardy sand-
walkers filed into the dining-room, bare-legged
and coatless. The paleness of their faces was
positively alarming.
Their distress was too manifestly serious for
us to scoff at them.
It seems they had engaged a guide, had
placed their bicycles, coats, and shoes and
stockings in his cart, and had started ahead
over the sand, expecting, of course, that he was
to follow. They had proceeded perhaps a
quarter of a mile (for there are no quicksands
near the Mount), when they happened to turn
about, and perceived that they were alone.
Where was the guide? They had supposed he
was close at their heels ? Finally they detected
his cart disappearing along the causeway. He
had concluded that it would be much easier


THE CLOISTERS. MONT ST. MICHEL.


854


r,~r
I:~r Q
~
''
rE~.





AMERICAN BICYCLERS AT MONT ST. MICHEL.


4g-~3nP~a;il=r


MONT ST. MICHEL. SOUTH VIEW FROM THE CAUSEWAY.


to take the load over the long, smooth road
around the coast, than by the short yielding
pathway over the sand. In vain they ran after
him and shouted. He was too far away. An-
other guide was procured (for safety requires
one), and the journey began again.
It was very pleasant at first. They saw a
mirage, and stood on the brink of a quicksand
and cautiously tested it with their feet. But
yielding sand is not the easiest path for pedes-
trians, and four miles of its friction on tender
feet, accustomed only to shoe-leather, produced
a soreness that can be imagined.
And all the time Avranches seemed to recede
from the shore instead of growing nearer. From
the Mount it had appeared close at hand, for
it rests upon a high cape, but really it was six
miles from the edge of the sand. The man
with the. bicycles was not waiting for them on


the shore, of course. And so, in their coatless
and bare-footed plight, they wearily plodded
along over the hard smooth road that their
bicycles would have traversed so easily. Ar-
rived at Avranches, after a ten-mile walk, they
climbed the long, steep grade to the very top
of the cape, and wandered all about the city
in search of the hotel. It was not until they
learned that the hotel was not on top of the
cape but over in the valley on the other side,
that their cup of misery began to run over.
We were not surprised at their white faces
when they had finished telling us the reason.
But where were the bicycles ? It was long
after dinner before the man and his cart arrived,
and it will be long years before he forgets his re-
ception. Our five friends did n't start with the
rest of us for Granville. A period of rest was
necessary before they could resume the journey.


.- tL












DECATUR AND SOMERS.


BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.


I --~r


THE BOMBARDMENT OF TRIPOLI. (SEE PAGE 857.)


[Begun in the May number.]
CHAPTER VII.

ON the morning of the 19th of February,
just fifteen days after they had left Syracuse,
the Intrepid and the Siren stood in the harbor.
Stewart, from motives of delicacy, kept his fast-
sailing brig astern of the ketch. The Nauti-
lus lay farther out than the Constitution, and
Somers, taking his morning walk on the
quarter-deck, saw the ketch and the brig ap-
proaching, and the next moment the lookout
sang out: "Sail, ho "
Instinctively, Somers knew that it was Deca-
tur and Stewart. The morning was one of
those clear, bright days when the earth and sea
seem like Paradise. In the bright blue air he


could see the white canvas of the brig, now
cleaned and fresh, and the low hull of the ketch
with her lateen sail.
Soon they were near enough to be hailed;
and, with a joy and thankfulness not to be
described, Somers saw Decatur standing in the
bows of the ketch waving his cap--a signal
meaning success that had been agreed upon
between them.
The next instant they were seen from the
Constitution; and, as soon as it was certain
they were observed, an ensign was run up to
every masthead on the Intrepid. This was
enough; it meant complete success. At once
the commodore gave orders for a salute to be
fired, and the guns of the Constitution roared
out their welcome. This was taken up by the


7 m -----y *--


kL ..,l&/


I--
rl -- ~
TJI


I






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


Nautilus, and by the Sicilian forts on shore; for
Sicily, too, had her grudge against Tripoli. In
the midst of the thundering salutes, and in a
cloud of blue smoke, the brig and the ketch
came to anchor. Somers had ordered his boat
lowered, and had made for the Constitution,
in order to be the first to meet Decatur. His
boat, and the Intrepid's which carried Decatur
and Lawrence, came to the ladder at the same
moment. Decatur sprang out and caught
Somers in his arms, and they hugged each other
very much as they had done in their midship-
man days when both were larking together in
"Old Wagoner's" steerage.
Somers then went over the side in order that
he might witness Decatur's triumphal arrival.
The commodore and all the Constitution's offi-
cers were waiting at the gangway to salute
Decatur. Somers greeted the commodore and
the other officers hurriedly, and walked aside
as Decatur stepped upon the quarter-deck,
followed by his first lieutenant. Decatur wore
a perfectly new naval uniform, with a handsome
sword. His fine black eyes were sparkling, and
he had a happy air of success.
He bowed low to the commodore. "Old
Pepper" grasped Decatur's hand warmly, and,
taking off his cap, cried:
If every plank in the Philadelphia is de-
stroyed, you shall have my best efforts to make
you a post-captain for it."
Every plank is destroyed, sir; every gun is
burst or at the bottom of the harbor; and the
ship, after burning to the water's edge, ex-
ploded, and you could not have told the place
where she lay," answered Decatur, quietly.
At this a mighty hurrah went up from the
officers and men on the Constitution.
Not a man was lost," continued Decatur;
but at that another storm of cheering cut him
short. Somers, the quietest and most self-
contained man on the squadron, was cheering
wildly, and literally dancing in his excitement.
The commodore hurried Decatur into the
cabin to get the particulars; Lawrence told
the glorious story on the quarter-deck; while
Danny Dixon, who was coxswain, got permis-
sion to leave the Intrepid's boat, and to a lis-
tening crowd of blue jackets on the fok's'l he
recounted the noble adventure of the Intrepid.
VOL. XXI.--o8.


When Decatur returned to the deck to get
into his boat, he found the rigging full of men;
and as he left the ship, taking Somers with him,
that they might have their usual long and inti-
mate talk, the yards were manned, and three
rousing American cheers shook the Constitu-
tion's deck in honor of the Intrepid's young
commander.
Amid all the felicitations on the outcome of
the expedition, the modesty and calmness of
Decatur, under his weight of glorious achieve-
ment, was remarked upon, especially as he was
so young and so impetuous. But when he and
Somers were finally left alone in the cabin
of the Argus, they suddenly threw aside their
dignity, and acted like a couple of delighted
school-boys.
They hugged and pounded each other; they
laughed; they cried; they joked; they sang;
and at last, the only thing that quieted them
was the usually grave Somers shoving Decatur
into a chair, and shouting: Now, you lucky
rascal, don't dare to move from that chair until
you have told me all about the fight!"

CHAPTER VIII.

ON the morning of August 3, 1804, began
that immortal series of five assaults on the
town, the fortresses, and the fleets of Tripoli
that was destined forever to destroy the pirat-
ical and barbaric power. The force of the
Americans was but little. With one heavy frig-
ate, the glorious old Constitution, three brigs,
three schooners, two bomb vessels, and three
gunboats, manned by one thousand and sixty
officers and men, Commodore Preble stood
boldly in to attack the town defended by the
Bashaw's castle, not less than a dozen powerful
forts, a fleet of three cruising vessels, two gal-
leys, and nineteen gunboats, manned by twenty-
five thousand Turks and Arabs. The harbor
was, moreover, protected by a line of shoals
and reefs perfectly well known to the Tripoli-
tans, but very imperfectly known to the Ameri-
cans, and which the Constitution could not
approach closely without incurring the fate of
the unfortunate Philadelphia. But whatever
Old Pepper" lacked in ships and guns, he
made up in men; for every soul on the Amer-


857






DECATUR AND SOMERS.


ican fleet was worthy to serve under the flag
that flew from the mastheads.
In considering the claims of his different offi-
cers in leading the attack, Commodore Preble
had at last determined upon Decatur and Som-
ers. The larger vessels were to cover the ad-
vance of the gunboats, which were to do the
real fighting; and these gunboats were divided
into two divisions, the first under Decatur, the
second under Somers. Besides the natural fit-
ness of these two young captains in this dan-
gerous hour, the commodore knew their perfect
understanding of each other, and the entire ab-
sence of jealousy between them; and, with two
officers acting in concert, this harmony of ideas
and feelings was of great value. But few offi-
cers were to be taken in the gunboats; and
none of the midshipmen from the Constitution
were permitted to leave her. The frigate's
situation would not be nearly so exposed as
the boat divisions, yet she was the force in re-
serve to support them all, and would require
much and skilful manoeuvering. Commodore
Preble, therefore, had use for all his officers.
These brave young men accepted the inevita-
ble, and only little Pickle Israel begged and
pleaded unavailingly with both Somers and
Decatur to take him along, especially as Mac-
donough would be with them.
Decatur, seeing the little midshipman was
really in earnest, said kindly:
Now, Mr. Israel, let us talk common sense.
You are as brave a little fellow as ever stepped
-both Captain Somers and I know that-but
you could be picked up and thrown overboard
like a handy-billy by any full-grown man.
Macdonough is several years older than you,
and as strong and able to take care of himself
as any lieutenant in the squadron. Never you
mind, though; just as soon as your body grows
up to your spirit, you will have your chance
at distinction."
Poor Pickle had to go back to the Consti-
tution, fortified only by this promise.
James Decatur, Stephen's younger brother,
was put in Somers's division, which consisted
of three gunboats, while Decatur's consisted
also of three boats; and each was armed with
a single long twenty-four pounder. The two
friends had spent many days and weeks in per-


fecting their plans; and when, at noon, on
August 3, the Constitution flung out the signal
of battle, each knew exactly what was to be
done. It was a brilliant day, and the white-
walled city, with its circle of grim forts, its
three smart cruisers lying under the guns, the
castle crowned with heavy mortars, and its fleet
of gunboats manned by sailors in picturesque
costumes, made a beautiful and imposing pic-
ture. The American fleet looked small to grap-
ple with such a force; but, although it was
estimated as about one to five of the Tripoli-
tan force, every man went into action with a
coolness and determination not to be excelled.
At half-past twelve o'clock the Constitution ran
in, with a good breeze, about three miles from
the town. The war-ship, with her head to the
land, signaled to the brigs, schooners, gun-
boats, and bomb vessels, to prepare for the
attack; and, at the same moment, the frigate
herself was cleared for action.
It was seen that the batteries were manned,
and the cruising vessels had lifted their anchors,
so that the Americans knew that they would
have a warm reception. At the moment that
the Constitution wore with her head pointing
out of the harbor, the Bashaw of Tripoli was
watching the fleet with a glass, from one of
the windows of the castle, and he haughtily
remarked :
"They will mark their distance for tacking.
These Americanos have no notion of fight-
ing !" But Captain Bainbridge and his offi-
cers and men, who watched the scene with the
eager eyes of prisoners hoping for release, knew
perfectly well that every manceuver made by
the Americans that day would be only to get
closer to the enemy.
By half-past one o'clock the gunboats were
manned and separated into two divisions. Som-
ers led the first, with young James Decatur
commanding the boat next to him while Ste-
phen Decatur led the second division. Danny
Dixon, as usual, was acting coxswain; and with
him was a brawny young sailor, Reuben James,
who had captivated Danny by his admiration
for Captain Paul Jones. Danny had, in conse-
quence, recoinmended him highly to Decatur.
"For, Cap'n," he said, "a man as thinks as
high o' Cap'n Paul Jones as Reuben James





DECATUR AND SOMERS.


does, and kin listen once in a while 'bout the
fight between the Bunnum Richard and the
S'rapis, is apt to be a mighty good sailor; and
if one o' them murderin' pirates was to do for
me, sir, I 'd like to think there 'd be a good
man to take my place. I 'm a-thinkin', Captain
Decatur, this aren't goin' to be no picnic, but
good hard fighting. "
"Well, Reuben James may be with you if
you want him," answered Decatur.
"Thanky, sir," responded Danny; and Reu-
ben was the first man Decatur saw when he
stepped into the gunboat.
As the two divisions of three gunboats each
formed and pulled away, they saw two divisions
of Tripolitan boats, much larger, stronger, and
more fully manned, pull slowly out from behind
the line of reefs. The windward division con-
sisted of nine gunboats, and the leeward of five,
while a reserve of five others lay just inside the
harbor, protected by the reefs.
As Somers took his place in the gunboat, he
said to the man at the tiller:
Do you see that division of five boats to lee-
ward ? Steer straight for it, and get within pistol-
shot of it, when I will give you further orders."
The breeze was easterly, and with one lateen
sail drawing well, the boat was soon covering
the distance between her and her enemies
across the blue water. The firing had begun,
and a terrific roar, as the Constitution barked
out all her guns in broadside, showed that the
ball was opened. Somers watched until his boat
was abreast of the Tripolitans, when, himself
sighting the one long gun amidships, he fired,
and saw the shot had instant and terrible effect.
Somers turned round and saw the next boat
to his, under Lieutenant Blake, a brave young
officer, drawing off, obeying a signal of recall
which, however, was made by mistake from the
flag-ship; and the very next moment the third
boat, commanded by James Decatur, caught a
puff of wind that brought her head round and
carried her directly into the other division of
boats, which was dashing forward to attack the
nine Tripolitan gunboats.
"Very well," said Somers, with his usual
calm smile, "as Decatur says, the fewer the
number, the greater the honor! So we '11 go
ahead, boys."


The sailors gave a cheer, and in another
moment they were under the fire of the five
gunboats. The situation of Somers was now
critical in the extreme, but he gave no sign of
it in his manner, which was as cool as if he
were at anchor in a friendly port. He opened
a steady and well-directed fire that soon began
to weaken the attack of the Tripolitan boats,
and not one of them dared to come near
enough to attempt boarding him. Still, he
was drawing nearer and nearer the batteries.
Commodore Preble, who was watching him
from the Constitution's quarter-deck, exclaimed:
"Look at that gallant fellow, Somers. I
would recall him, but he would never see the
signal."
At that, the commodore heard a boyish voice
at his elbow, and there stood little Pickle Israel.
If you please, sir," said he, with the air of
one making a great discovery, "I don't believe
Mr. Somers wants to see any signal."
"You are right, my boy," cried Old Pepper,
who was in high good humor over the gallant
behavior of his "school-boy captains"; "but at
least he shall be supported."
With that he gave orders, and the ship,
advancing slowly, but as steadily as if working
into the roadstead of a friendly port, delivered a
tremendous fire upon the batteries that were now
trying to get the range of the daring little boat.
In spite of Somers's efforts to keep from
drifting too far toward the reefs and the re-
serve squadron, by backing his sweeps astern,
he soon found himself under the guns of one
of the large forts. The Constitution was thun-
dering at the forts, but this one was a little too
near, and her shot fell over it. The situation
of Somers was now desperate, but his indomita-
ble coolness stood him in good stead.
If we can knock the platform down that
holds those guns, my men, we shall be all
right," he cried; "and see, it is very rickety."
Then ordering a double charge put in the
long gun, he sighted it himself. A shot went
screaming over the water, and immediately a
cloud of dust, bricks, and mortar showed that
it had struck the right spot. The platform
was destroyed, and the battery tumbled down
among the ruins.
Somers then turned his attention to the five







gunboats, that he could now drive still closer to young captain, and her brave crew, hold in
the reef, and on which every shot-from his boat check a force five times her own; and not until
was telling, a general recall was ordered did she leave her
And so, for an hour longer, did the little perilous position, and retire under the guns of
American boat, with her one gun, her resolute the frigate.
(To be continued.)


/ ~iIik



I 1 P" ~


THE WASP AND


THE SPIDER.


BY F. H. LITTLEJOHN.

SAID the Wasp to the Spider, Let 's build us a ship,
With a red maple-leaf for a sail;
We '1 fasten it right at the front of a chip;
Like mariners bold we will start on a trip,
And weather the heaviest gale."

The Spider agreed, and they both sailed away,
Far over the seas in their dory;
But whither they went, I really can't say,
For they never were heard of again from that day!
So that is the end of my story.


860


DECATUR AND SOMERS.


-c,










A BONNY BICYCLE.

BY F. H. LITTLEJOHN.

" OH see my bicycle airy and light -
Wheels made of daisies yellow and white,
All bound together snugly and tight,
Oh! I am the champion wheelman!

"So, Crickets and Beetles, just clear the road,
Look ofit for yourself, my friend, Mr. Toad,
While I skip along, quite a la mode,'
For I am the champion wheelman!"

The Toad quickly jumped, but jumped the wrong way!
The Grasshopper hopped from his perch in dismay,
The wheel went to smash, I am sorry to say;
And that was the end of the wheelman.































G. WHILLIKENS.

BY JAMES BARNES.


THE city boy leaned disconsolately against
the time-eaten railing of the old red bridge,
and watched the swallows playing cross-tag
hither and thither over the unruffled surface of
"Holmes's" mill-pond. He had been in East
Dover now one whole lonely hour; his face was
grimy with the dust of travel, and his ears were
full of cinders.
Back there in the village his mother and sis-
ter were unpacking the trunks at the stuffy little
boarding-house, and he had been turned loose
-to the relief of all concerned-until the un-
packing was finished. Mechanically he had
made his way down the street to where the still
water of the pond gleamed in the evening light.
This place is a beastly hole! groaned the
city boy to himself, banging his feet against the
side of the. bridge, while he glanced down into
the water beneath him. A small, lean fish,
near the surface, caught his eye in an instant.
I '11 bet you 're the only fish in the pond,"
he said, addressing the lonely little pickerel;
and he made it dart to another motionless posi-
tion by snapping a bit of crumbling wood from
the bridge railing into the water. "You 're


not big enough to keep, either," he added,
slightingly.
This all might have been true enough, but
nevertheless the city boy's face had brightened,
as if by magic, at the sight of that narrow little
fish. If there was any one thing that gave him
supreme delight, it was to have a rod in his
hands with a line, and the chance of a nibble at
the other end of it. This was decidedly an in-
herited taste, for his father was ah ardent an-
gler, and had named his only son Isaac Walton
Jones.
So he leaned further out, and watched the
deep shadow underneath the bridge. A water-
rat ran out from among some stones and disap-
peared in the roots of the alders, and a turtle
lifted his black-and-yellow head, and then turned
tail and hustled down into the mud. Master
Jones stopped grumbling now; perhaps the
heavy shade of the trees on the other side of
the pond sheltered some finny lurkers that
might be large enough to keep, or, for that
matter, to eat,--a neat distinction usually settled
by the cook. At any rate, he contemplated his
stay in East Dover with less disfavor, and re-


'--~-~--- -
~-~-~--~-





G. WHILLIKENS.


membered the beautiful split-bamboo rod his
father had given him for Christmas.
"What ye looking' at ?" suddenly inquired a
voice. Master Jones looked back over his
shoulder. He was so surprised that at first he
did not reply.
There were three of them: three boys, of
about his own age, with ragged straw hats,
bare, brown legs, and dusty feet. They were
regarding the city boy with all of a New Eng-
lander's frank curiosity.
I was looking at a fish," said Master Jones,
at last.
Whar is he ?" said one of the boys, and all
stepped up beside him, leaning over, with their
elbows on the broad wooden railing.
"There he is," he answered, pointing out the
pickerel.
"Pooh! Shucks! That 's nothing, said the
boy, who had his great toe tied up in a rag.
"We seed something' to-day wuth looking' at;
did n't we, Addis?"
"Wal, we jes' did!" replied the third boy,
who had black teeth and red hair. "We seed
him," he added.
"Who is him ? asked the city boy, who was
disposed to be friendly.
"' G. Whillikens,'" replied the red-headed boy.
He 's a trout," broke in the first.
No; he's a whale," interrupted the smallest
boy-" 'mos' as big as your arm."
Master Jones was all on the alert now.
How long ago did you see him ? he asked
eagerly.
'Bout ten minutes, I reckon," was the answer.
"Why did n't you catch him ? "
He won't bite," returned one of the trio.
"We bobbed a worm right under his nose, and
he did nothing' but bump up ag'in it."
Father says there 's been more tackle and
more words wasted on that trout than--than
ye ever heard on. Ye can't snare him neither;
Bob Bracket tried it."
Can you see him now ?" Walton asked,
very much excited.
Ye might if ye hurry; corn' 'long and we '11
show him to ye," one of his new friends an-
swered quickly.
The four boys, headed by the boy with the
stubbed toe, who limped slightly, trotted away


up the road. Then they dodged under a fence,
crossed a bit of meadow, and came out of the
hardhack and blackberry bushes right on to
the ruins of Holmes's mill.
The mill had not turned a wheel within the
memory of the oldest inhabitant. It had stood
there in loneliness and silence, and was becom-
ing more and more dilapidated with every win-
ter's snow. Scattered about in the bushes were
strange, uncouth bits of machinery, wooden
cogs and axles, and a few big grinding-stones.
A long wooden sluice, through which the water
rippled swiftly, ended in a deep, wide pool at
the foot of the dripping, moss-grown dam. The
boys approached it cautiously.
"Look thar!" whispered the guide, pointing
toward the pool.
For a minute Walton could discern nothing
but the dark, rushing water. Then suddenly he
saw him. There lay G. Whillikens "-a great,
black shape in a little quiet corner, protected
by a projecting, slimy board. The trout grew
plainer as Walton's eyes became accustomed to
the heavy shadow. He could see the black
lines on the huge trout's olive back and the red-
and-white edges of his balance-fins. The great
hooked under jaw was working, and there were
momentary glimpses of the blood-red gills.
That he was a wary. old chap was soon proved,
for one of the boys rubbed a tiny pebble off the
bank, and there was a flash and a swirl, and
nothing left to mark G. Whillikens's resting-place
but a little cloud of mud and a few dead leaves
turning over and over at the bottom.
Walton heaved a sigh, almost of relief.
"Ye must n't breathe when ye 're watching'
him," said the biggest boy, arising to his knees.
"Le's see how fur ye can fling a stone."
He scraped one out of the dirt with his bare
foot. Then he whirled his arm over his shoul-
der and let drive down the stream.
The city boy picked up another stone and
followed suit. It plashed full twenty feet far-
ther than the village boy's had gone, and at
this the others looked at Master Jones with
open admiration.
"Ye can beat me holler! observed the rus-
tic champion, after a half bushel of small stones
had found their way down the stream.
"It's 'mos' supper-time I reckon," said one






G. WHILLIKENS.


of the boys at last, after they had chased a
chipmunk under a pile of old boards, and
"Addis" had been stung by a yellow-jacket,
whose nest they had intruded upon.
"Yes, le's go hum," agreed the red-head.
"Mar 's cooking' doughnuts."
And I want to put some arniky on my toe!"
broke in the smallest.
Walton, who was becoming hungry, was glad
to acquiesce,- boys generally tire at the same
moment,- so they recrossed the meadow and
followed the road into the village.
Mrs. Jones was a little puzzled by her son's
behavior during the supper-hour. He sat be-
side her without speaking -a far-away expres-
sion in his eyes, eating and drinking in silence.
"Walton 's very tired," remarked the city
boy's sister, and she tried to persuade him to go
to bed. But he would not stir until he saw that
the bamboo rod had arrived safely, and that no
single fly in the fat brown fly-book was missing.
Then he went to bed quite willingly.
How long he slept Walton did not know.
But he woke and found himself leaning over the
footboard, gazing down where a moment be-
fore, he thought, he had seen the great form
of G. Whillikens swimming over a stream bed
of rag carpet.
"I was dreaming," said Master Jones, shut-
ting his eyes, and preparing to thrust his sturdy
legs under the bed-clothes again. It was just
at this moment that he noticed that it was
broad moonlight outside; so he jumped to the
floor, and raising the curtain, he gazed out of
the half-opened window.
The whole landscape was aglow with the
soft gray light. He could see the shadows of
the honeysuckle vines weaving across the floor
of the piazza. The next house stood out clear
and plain amid the surrounding trees, and he
could catch even the tints of the hollyhocks
and the white points of the bachelor's-buttons
growing along the picket-fence. Far away the
course of the stream was marked by a line of
pearly mist that hung at the foot of the soft blue
hills. A few bright stars blazed and sparkled
overhead. A fisherman is one-third poet, and
Walton knelt and leaned both elbows on the
window-sill.
Suddenly a sentence he had read in one of


his father's books came into his mind: "Trout
often feed on moonlight nights."
Silently he stood up and commenced to dress
himself; his hands trembled as he put the fly-
book in his pocket and reached in the corner
for the Orvis rod. Then he climbed quietly
out of the window--stumbling over a baby-
carriage and a boy's velocipede; and, scramb-
ling over the fence, he found himself in the
village street.
It was silent and deserted as he hurried down
toward the old red bridge, trotting now and
then, and looking back as if he expected at
any moment to hear his mother's voice call
"Walton! Walton!"
But there was no sound, and he saw no sign
of life or movement. He felt as if he were
walking through a picture.
As he dodged under the fence a sleepy bird
fluttered in the bushes. It startled him, and
his heart began to beat fast and loud. The
meadow grass soaked him to the waist with
dew. Soon he lost the path, and tore his way
through the tangled hardhacks to the little
clearing about the ruined mill. Here he paused
and untied the gray cloth cover of the bamboo
rod. It glimmered, and the reel buzzed like a
great insect as he threaded the line through the
metal guides. Walton had to stop now and
then to take deep, long breaths.
At last the line was stretched, and with
chilled fingers trembling from excitement he
selected from the fly-book three dainty, tempt-
ing flies-one silver hackle," a white miller,"
and a "royal coachman." He moistened them
with his lips, stretching the tight, coiled snells
before he attached them to the "leader." When
all was right, he balanced the supple rod in
his nervous hands and stole toward the bank,
where it shelved away to the silent, swirling
pool beneath the outlet of the sluice.
He stood there for a moment without mov-
ing. The water dripping from the dam seemed
to beat a regular tattoo; a dog howled, back
there in the village, and a fox prowling about
the lower pond yapped derisively. As he
watched the dimpling, shifting surface beneath
him, suddenly he started; there could be no
doubt about it -that rush and plash and rip-
ple meant a rise!


[AUG.






G. WHILLIKENS.


G. Whillikens was feeding !
Walton's heart seemed to be jumping back
of his throat and eyes as he raised the rod,
gathered some slack from the slow-clicking reel,
and cast out to the middle of the pool. Too
quick that time; he must let it float longer
with the current,-let it sink an inch or so,-
and draw it slowly. He had been too quick
entirely.
Another cast. Flash! chug! whip! whir !


the rod sharply to the left, as if G. Whillikens
had been a minnow. No rod of seven ounces
could have stood the strain. There was a
snap-the tip had broken short at the ferule,
and the city boy gave way to one wild sob.
Despairingly he followed the slackened line
with his eye-and there in the shallow right
beneath him lay the huge fish, swaying from
side to side, his back-fin out of water. He had
turned him !


ISAAC WALTON JONES CAPTURES G. WHILLIKENS.


He had him/ Boys and girls and fisher-
men!--he had him! The line cut the pool
from right to left, the rod bent to the shape of
a fish-hook. What did the boy care for noise
or caution now ? He stumbled over the loose
planks; he groaned when the line came toward
him, and he could not gather it in fast enough
as the great trout made for the opening of the
sluice-way. Stop him he must. With the line
twisted and snarled about his fingers he swung
VOL. XXI.- 109.


Not a moment to think now Walton drop-
ped the rod, poised himself, and leaped, hands,
knees, and elbows right down upon him. The
fish struggled against his breast slipped through
the eager fingers, and was clasped again, this
time more firmly; and, with the line trailing far
behind him, Walton quickly clambered out of
the pool, over the rocks and loose boards near
the sluice-way, and did not stop till he was some
thirty feet up the slope where the cows had


1894.]





G. WHILLIKENS.


made a muddy hoof-grooved path. There the
eager boy lay down upon the trout, and held
hard and fast!
G. Whillikens could not break away, although
Walton could feel the powerful muscles twisting
in his grasp. It was not for long, however; and
a few minutes later, with the broken rod hastily
unjointed, Isaac Walton Jones ran up the road
again, the broad, flat tail of the trout almost in
the dirt. He climbed in at the window, and-
wonder of wonders !--tired out with excitement
fell asleep on the outside of the bed.
Perhaps you think that this is all a dream,
but if you could see G. Whillikens stuffed and
mounted inside a glass case, dashing after


a white miller," you would know that this
is a true story. Beneath the case is this in-
scription:
G. WHILLIKENS, WEIGHT 3 LBS. IO OZ.


,hy Qo Uvcky S

i Ps'k 4 ai er4w-


141C e~e i) W5

QW L,: 1 0B,4c







Tjhe Mu de-rks
N U9 &y9
-(Ty/lti
||fCl3 '^k Yt^EK^


866











HOW META SAVED THE MILL.

BY ELIZABETH WORTHINGTON FISKE.


META JEFFREY was a little girl twelve years
old, who lived in a factory town where the tall
chimneys and smoke-stacks seemed almost to
reach the clouds, and where the whirr of
machinery never ceased; the heavy smoke ob-
scured the sky much of the time, so that the
people dwelling in that place almost forgot,
unless they stopped to think, that the beauti-
ful blue heaven stretched above.
Meta was not one of the factory children;
her father was assistant-superintendent of one
of'the large silk-mills, and now, for some time,
had been in full charge, as the superintendent,
Mr. Edwards, was ill, and had gone abroad in
search of health.
With her parents and little brother she lived
in a pretty cottage in one of the suburbs of the
town, quite near the mill. She went to school,
and took music lessons, as many another little
maiden does quite an ordinary girl, people
thought; rather pretty, though, for her cheeks
were rosy with health, and her eyes were
bright. Just an affectionate, happy child, lov-
.ing her parents dearly, fond of fun, and stu-
dious enough, though not particularly fond of
books.
When the great bell rang in the morning,
Meta used to watch the people passing into the
mill. Some of them were girls no older than
herself; she knew that they packed the boxes
of gay-colored sewing-silk, and did like tasks;
she wondered whether they carried nice things
for lunch iri their baskets, and whether they
would not be glad to get away into the beautiful
country that stretched far, far on every side.
She herself had ridden with her father into the
country sometimes, and it had seemed like fairy-
land to her; the trees, the flowers, and the green
grass made a world so different from the great
hive in which Meta had her being," though,
indeed, she was growing up like a sweet flower
in spite of the smoke and noise.


One day Meta's father went to the city to
look at some new machinery, and when his
wife kissed him good-by that morning, he told
her that the business perhaps might detain him
till the next day. In the afternoon, Meta had
just returned from a walk with her favorite
friend, Sue Dallas, and was in the sitting-room
with brother Georgie, when the maid came
in, bringing a telegram for her mother. Meta
noticed that her mother grew pale as she read
it. "What is it, Mama? she cried.
"Your grandmother is very ill," her mother
replied. "I must go to her at once. Will you
take Georgie, dear ? I must get ready quickly."
The child did as she was told, sobered by the
news, though not fully understanding the peril.
Mrs. Jeffrey was in great haste to catch her
train, and at last decided to take little Georgie-
Meta was too young to have charge of the child,
and Norah was careless, while her mother's
house was large, and there were many servants.
So Meta helped dress the little boy, and, when
the carriage came, bade her mother a brave
good-by.
"My darling," Mrs. Jeffrey said, as she
kissed her, I cannot bear to leave you alone;
it is just possible that Papa may come back to-
night. But, in any case, Norah is very good-
natured. You must read some nice story, and
go to bed early. Be sure to see that the front
door is locked, and then go right to sleep, and
it will be bright morning when you open your
eyes again. Papa will be coming home, and I
will write as soon as I can."
So the carriage drove away. Meta stood
looking after it until it turned the corner, and
then she went slowly into the house. It was
too soon to be lonely; it had been so sudden
a turn of affairs that she had scarcely begun to
realize it, though the house seemed very empty.
But she had a trustful soul, and Norah, who
was a cheerful, pleasant girl, got her a particu-






HOW META SAVED THE MILL.


larly nice supper, and said, Shure, Miss Meta,
the misthress will be home in a day or two -
with good news, too! "-and that was com-
forting.
Toward evening, Sue Dallas came in to in-
vite Meta to spend the night at her house, but
Meta resisted the temptation. The girl thought
it would not be honorable to leave Norah alone,
and she felt besides, it must be said, not a
little pride in her responsibility as head of the
house in the absence of her parents. Then Sue
went home, and, as the evening deepened, the
maid looked into the sitting-room to say, Miss
Meta, if you won't feel strange, I '11 just go
round the corner to mate a neighbor girl, who
promised to help me choose a hat this evening;
I '11 take the kay, so you won't feel troubled,
and I '11 not be long."
Meta did not quite like to be left alone just
then; but Norah was in the habit of going out
in the evening, and Meta seldom saw her after
supper-time; so she looked up from "Little
Lord Fauntleroy," in which she was entirely
absorbed at the time, and giving a ready as-
sent, returned to her book. Soon after she
heard the area gate shut, and felt a thrill as she
realized that for the first time in her life she
was alone in the house. But the street, al-
though in the suburbs, was a cheerful one; now
and then the sound of voices, or snatches of
a song, floated into the quiet room, and the
lights in the mill, not far distant, winked and
blinked at her in quite a friendly way; so she
settled into content again.
The evening passed slowly until it was ten
o'clock-an unusually late hour for her, but
Meta had come to the most interesting part of
the beautiful story, and had lingered a little to
hear Norah come in. The maid slept in the
basement, and Meta opened the hall door to
say good night; but it was very dark and still
down-stairs, and she closed the door rather
hastily. The little glow of adventure that so far
had sustained her had by this time faded; but
she saw that the chain-bolt was in order at the
front door, and that the parlor windows were
fastened. Leaving a gas-jet burning dimly in
the hall, as was the custom of the family, Meta
ran briskly up-stairs to her own little room.
Here her slight uneasiness vanished, for all was


pleasant and familiar. Her window fronted the
street, so that the light shone in as she opened
her blind after putting out the gas. The little
maid read a chapter in the Bible, said her
simple prayer, from her very heart, and was
soon sleeping soundly.
It must have been about midnight when
Meta awoke with a start; she said afterward
that it was because the factory bell did not ring
the hour,-for the watchman always struck the
hour through the night, answering directly the
great clock that tolled the time at the city hall.
The sound of this bell had often mingled with
Meta's dreams as she turned dreamily in bed,
and she knew that her father sometimes list-
ened to catch the peal, especially in that sea-
son, winter, when the steam had to be run at
full-pressure. Just as the little girl awoke the
town clock had struck twelve; but why did not
the mill bell ring, also ?
She listened a moment; then sprang from her
bed and went to the window. She thought she
might catch a glimpse of Nicholson, the watch-
man, whose duty it was to make his round,
beginning at each hour. Certain parts of the
building were kept lighted through the night,
and Meta sometimes could see the shadow of
the watchman's figure as he moved through
the great rooms on the east side, lantern in
hand. It was his duty' to inspect the entire
building thoroughly. Meta gazed anxiously.
All seemed as usual; but there was no sound,
no stir, and she began to feel a vague alarm,
which deepened into dismay. She had often
heard her father talk about the mill, and knew
how much he felt the responsibility that had
come upon him since the illness of the super-
intendent. If anything went wrong, even during
his absence, her father was sure to be blamed,
justly or unjustly.
Could the watchman have fallen asleep?
This had happened once, and the man had
been threatened with dismissal, but was re-
tained at the entreaties of his wife, and also
because he had proved himself in the main
competent and trusty. He had been an oper-
ative in the mill 'at one time, but, having in-
jured one of his hands, had received this post,
which served to maintain his large family.
Nicholson was a friendly old .man. Meta.


868





HOW META SAVED THE MILL.


had often talked with him, and he had ex-
plained the machinery to her. And now per-
haps he had gone to sleep, and left his charge
exposed to fire or any danger. And he would
be dismissed! Yet it was so easy to go to
sleep. Meta could not see how it was pos-
sible for any one to
keep awake through
the long dark night.
She felt a sudden pity
for the old man, and
an impulse to help
him. Ten minutes had
passed: why should
she not go and wake
him, and warn him
of his danger without
any one's knowledge?
She had but to cross
the street, turn a few
steps to the right, and
enter the mill-yard
(the gates were locked,
but there was a loose
boarding in the fence,
through which Meta
could easily pass);
then across the yard
and up a flight of steps
which led into the
mill. She knew the
little room, not far
from the office, where
the watchman sat
through the night. It
would not take five
minutes, and she
could run back as
quickly. "THERE WAS A DIM LII
It was a rash
thought, perhaps, to come into the brain, of
such a child; but it was not so strange after
all. She was perfectly familiar with the mill,
knew just where to go, and this part was kept
lighted. Her father had said to her that morn-
ning just before he left, Now will you watch
over the mill while I am gone, little one?"
and, though she knew that he had spoken in
jest, the words came back to her with a cur-
ious force. Perhaps, in view of the event, we


may fairly say that the impulse might be called
an inspiration; but people attach different
meanings to that word.
Meta hesitated no more. She dressed in
eager haste, yet with a certain care, as persons
have been known to do at exciting moments,


GHT IN THE OFFICE AND SHE ESPIED TWO MEN BENDING
ER THE SAFE." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

and, putting on her warm sack, stole softly
down-stairs and out of the door.
She shivered slightly as she heard the lock
click from the inside, but she had remembered
to put the key in her pocket, and also the key
to the inside door of the mill, which always
hung in her father's room. She did not stop to
think; she ran swiftly across the street, and a
few paces to the right. To her surprise, she
found the gates unlocked! She rushed across


869









She thought he was dead, and recoiled in-
Stini r. 1 h,.jr r:,linrw her courage approached,
..,ar,, binihl : ,-,er him. -cai rhi t i, breathed.
SHe -_ urn, rsc,.'ou_, an I .i bleedn,- from a
,. ii, m he hl ed. The Lc;l st[::d I; lr -i mo-
nent -,arrizeid b, Ic r. thein a ,i ht gleam
.h,:,eC full in, her l tai-e. Jn1d -,e lardI a dull
gratin, noli; .c. There .ts a din light in, the
JiOfile, ',nd cch epied twi, nen m eLnding n'v r the
s 1c, tri ing to [orce orpen the lock.
The% Ihaid be!, t-oo much ctngaged
W il. i'to, hear Me[a': light -tep:; even her
1* *'" e'claimaiIn lnad not rocuscd them.
h Dut-,haI ipe ri ing to, look up, i:ne of
them saw the child. Mleta, not yet
Recovered from her tra nce of fright,






the yard, -nd uq. the i, ,,-h
steps. rd tile re,1 rIt loo r,.
usually o firri lockoi,.
opened a: .hl.e cra.ied .
the hcai-, hjnjle-- u i
was, ir! aCt. jiar!
M1et- was ,uz_!-d,
frighten nedri- but -he Iad -
come vith i purOr -e.
andt: ,i:ouh-he trrnile,-i.
and felt that her Ieart
was Lbatnri hard, she
did rot think of tur.nring
back. F',ni the rn:[in
entry !he turned i: a -
corridor that separated
the large "u'rk-roonl"
from the ..ft ice and ion" r
or tawo -irialelr r,:-., i
in or.' of whichc h Nichol- .
son A'S .C ii~tntor ied t,:
stay. She ctumi..led
agairit a lantern thlat
lay cnii the fl:,oor; then
she titte'relI a h L oi t icry,
for just before her in the "META PULLED WITH ALL HER MIGHT, AND THE GREAT BELL SOUNDED -
RINGING OUT AN ALARM."
half-light, only a few feet
from the office door, lay, motionless, the form was standing near the office door, gazing on them
of Nicholson, the old watchman. with wide eyes and a white face.


870


HOW META SAVED THE MILL.


[AUG.





HOW META SAVED THE MILL.


He uttered an exclamation, and both men
rushed toward her. Then, indeed, Meta fled,
but not through the door she had entered.
Along the familiar corridor she ran; then, turn-
ing to the right, she sped breathless up the high
stairs, with feet that seemed winged; then up
the second flight. She heard the men's voices
behind her, calling, threatening; the footsteps
pressed near and nearer; but now she was on
the ladder that led to the landing above which
hung the great bell.
Once or twice before she had gone up cau-
tiously with Nicholson "to see him ring the
bell," as she said; now she ran up unconscious
of effort, and stood on the belfry landing, just
as the two fierce pursuers reached the space be-
low. The ladder was a movable one, and
Meta made a brave attempt to draw it up after
her; but it crashed down the stairway below,
almost falling on the two robbers, and was
broken. In the dim light she saw the two
wicked faces; she saw the bright barrel of
a revolver pointed at her, while 'a rough voice
cried, "Girl, move one step and I will shoot
you! "
For an instant she was dizzy; but she felt
the bell-rope in her hand. Then Meta pulled
with all her might, and the great bell sounded
through the midnight-ringing out an alarm.
The fire-signals answered instantly, and in
less than three minutes the building was sur-
rounded by a circle of strong men drilled for
.emergencies, with the engines of the fire depart-
ment; and they were quickly followed by al-
most the entire force of the operatives.
Great was the amazement when it was found
that there was no fire to put out, and the won-
der grew when they found the wounded watch-
man. The thieves, surprised, confused, and not
acquainted with the ins and outs of the mill,
were captured almost immediately.
Then came a bewildered pause; people
looked at one another in perplexity. Who had
given the alarm? There was a rush for the
belfry, while the crowd without stood peering
upward, lost in amazement.
Meta's hat and the broken ladder were
found on the stairs, and, on the landing above,
stood a little figure, stretching slender hands


into the bridgeless space, while her childish
voice cried, "Take me down, please!"
A thrill went through the throng, and there was
a hush while another ladder was brought, and
a strong man went up. Lifting the girl in his
arms, he brought her down in safety.
Then a cheer went up from.the men within
and without, while the women burst into sobs
of joy. Meta was instantly surrounded; she an-
swered the questioning simply, rather wonder-
ing at the excitement, until Mr. Medway, a
director of the mill, fearing the effect of the
continued strain, took the tired child from
the circle of admirers to his own house.
Her father returned in the morning, and
Meta will never forget how he folded her in
his arms, and said, while tears filled his eyes,
"My own brave darling!"
Nicholson was kindly cared for, and in time
recovered.
Heaps of fagots, saturated with kerosene, with
a fuse attached, were discovered in two separate
places, indicating that the burglars' plan had
been to burn the mill after robbing the safe:
possibly to insure their escape during the tu-
mult. They were tried, convicted, and are
now paying the penalty of their misdeeds.
Meta returned home after a day or two of
rest, apparently not much the worse for her
strange experience. A few days thereafter, her
mother also returned, with the welcome news
that her grandmother was recovering. So, in
a week, for this household, life flowed on in
its ordinary channels.
Some time afterward, Meta received a beau-
tiful gold watch and chatelaine guard,--in-
scribed with her name and the date of that
exciting night,- a gift from the directors of .the
mill. With it came a note expressing their
warm appreciation of her noble conduct. At
about the same time her father was appointed
superintendent of the factory, and he says,
laughingly, that he more than half owes his
promotion to his young daughter.
The memory of that experience must always
remain to give Meta a certain self-reliance; but
she is growing up a happy, modest, unselfish girl,
who does not pose as a heroine, although she did
face a great peril that night, and saved the mill.


x894.]


871










JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


BY BRANDER MATTHEWS.

As Irving was the first American author New York; a
whose writings won favor outside of his native quehanna str
land, so another New Yorker, James Fenimore distant Chesa
Cooper, was the first
American author
whose works gained
a wide circulation
outside of his native
tongue. While the ..
" Sketch Book" was
as popular in Great
Britain as in the
United States, the
"Spy," and the Pi-
lot," and the "Last
of the Mohicans,"
were as popular on
the continent of Eu-
rope as they were
in America, North
and South. To the
French and the Ger-
mans, to the Italians
and the Spaniards,
Fenimore Cooper is
as well known as
Walter Scott. Irving
was the first American
writer of short stories,
but Cooper was the
first American nov-
elist; and, to the
present day, he is
the one American
novelist whose fame q
is solidly established
among foreigners.
Born at Burlington,
New Jersey, on Sep-
tember 15, 1789, cf .
Cooper was taken in
infancy to Otsego I
Lake in the interior of REPRODUCED FROM THE STEEL ENGRAVING BY MAR


nd here, at the point where the Sus-
eams forth on its way to join the
peake, Cooper's father built the


SHALL. BY PERMISSION OF D. APPLETON & CO.


872






JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


stately mansion called Otsego Hall. The elder
Cooper was the owner of many thousand acres
along the head-waters of the Susquehanna, and
in this wilderness, centering around the freshly
founded village of Cooperstown, the son grew
into boyhood. He could pass his days on the
beautiful lake, shut in by the untouched forest,
or in the woods themselves as they rose with
the hills and fell away into the valleys. He
slept at night amid the solemn silence of a little
settlement, a hundred miles beyond the advan-
cing line of civilization.
Hard as it may be for us now to realize it, a
century ago "the backwoods" were in the State
of New York. It was only during the Revolu-
tion that the people of our stock had begun to
push their way across the Alleghanies. For
years after the nineteenth century began, the
only white men who sped down the Mississippi,
or toiled slowly up against its broad current,
spoke another tongue than ours. Although
Cooper lived in New York, it was in the back-
Swoods that he spent his childhood, and to
Cooperstown he returned at intervals through-
out his life. Backwoods scenes and backwoods
characters he could always recall at will from
his earliest recollections. The craft of the
woodsman, the tricks of the trapper, all the deli-
cate art of the forest, were familiar to Cooper
from his youth up, juit as the eery legends of
North Britain and stirring ballads of the Border
had been absorbed by Walter Scott.
Franklin never had the chance of a college
education; Irving was fitted for Columbia, but
did not enter; Cooper entered Yale, but did
not graduate- and the fault was his own. It
was thought that the sea would cure his ten-
dency to frolic. The Naval Academy had not
then been established, and the customary train-
ing for a career on a man-of-war was to gain
experience in the merchant marine. So in the
fall of 1806, when Cooper was seventeen, he
sailed on a merchant vessel for a year's cruise
shipping before the mast, and seeing not a little
hard service. Soon after his return he received
a commission as a midshipman in the regular
navy.
It was a time of peace, although the war with
Great Britain already was foreseen. In 1808
Cooper was one of a party sent to Oswego, on
VOL. XXI.- IIo.


Lake Ontario, to build a sixteen-gun brig. In
1809 he was left for a while in command of the
gun-boats on Lake Champlain. In the same
year he was attached to the "Wasp," then com-
manded by Lawrence the Lawrence who
was soon, to command the "Chesapeake" in
the action with the Shannon," and who was
to die with the immortal phrase, on his lips,
"Don't give up the ship! Although Cooper
saw no fighting during the three years and a
half in which he wore the uniform of his coun-
try, he greatly increased his store of experience,
adding to his knowledge of life before the mast
on a merchant vessel an understanding of life
on the quarter-deck of a man-of-war, besides
gaining acquaintance with the Great Lakes.
In January, 1811, Cooper married a Miss De
Lancey, with whom he was to live happily for
more than forty years. Apparently it the re-
quest of his bride, he resigned from the navy
in May. He dwelt at Mamaroneck in West-
chester, for several years, at first with his wife's
father, and then in a hired house. In 1817,
after a three years' stay at Cooperstown, he went
back to Westchester, the home of his wife's
childhood, and there he remained for five
years. Seemingly content with the simple life
of a well-to-do country gentleman, Cooper
reached the age of thirty without any attempt
at authorship -without even the hankering
after pen and ink which is the characteristic
of most predestined authors. The novelist
flowers late; Scott and Hawthorne were each
over forty when Waverley and the Scarlet
Letter" were published--but they had been
writing from their boyhood. Cooper's entry
into authorship was almost accidental. Read-
ing some cheap British novel, he was seized
with the idea that he could do as well himself;
and the result was his first book, Precaution,"
published late in 1820. "Precaution" was an
imitation of the average British novel of that
time; it had merit equal to that of most of its
models; it was a tale of life in England, and
there was nothing to show that its author was
not an Englishman. Indeed the book was re-
.published in London, and reviewed with no
suspicion of its American authorship.
That Cooper, a most loyal and ardent Amer-
ican, should write a second-hand story of this





JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


sort, shows how complete was the colonial de-
pendence of the United States on Great Britain
in the first quarter of the nineteenth century
-so far at least as letters were concerned.
American literature did not exist. No one
had yet declared that the one thing out of
which an American literature could be made
was American life. When Cooper's "Precau-
tion" was written, .Irving's Sketch Book was
being published in parts; it was still incom-
plete, and half of the sketches in the book
were from English subjects.
Yet it seems to have struck Cooper that if
he did not fail with a novel describing British
life, of which he knew little, he might succeed
with a novel describing American life, of which
he knew much. Waverley had been pub-
lished in 1814, and in the next six years had
appeared'eight others of the Scotch novels,"
as they were called; and in the very year
of Cooper's first book, Scott had crossed
the border and produced in Ivanhoe" really
the first English historical novel, applying the
method of the anonymous Scotch stories to an
English theme. Cooper perceived that the same
method could be applied to an American theme;
and in the "Spy," which was published in 1821,
he gave us the first American historical novel.
"The Spy" is a story of the Revolution,
and its scene is laid in the Westchester which
Cooper knew so well, and which had been a
neutral ground, harried in turn by the British
and the Americans: the" Cowboys" and "Skin-
ners." The time and the place were well
chosen, and they almost sufficed of themselves
to lend romance to any adventures the author
might describe; and even better chosen was
the central figure, Harvey Birch," one of the
most interesting and effective of romantic char-
acters. To the Spy himself, mysterious but
winning, was chiefly due the instant success
-and the success of the story was extraor-
dinary, not only in the United States at first,
and a few months later in Great Britain, but
on the continent of Europe. It was translated
into French by the translator of the Waverley
novels; and it was afterward translated into
most of the modern languages in turn.
Encouraged by the plaudits of the public on
both sides of the Atlantic, Cooper wrote an-


other story, the "Pioneers," published in 1823.
As the Spy" was the first American historical
novel, so was the Pioneers" the first attempt
to put into fiction what is perhaps as worthy of
record as anything in American history the
life on the frontier and the character of the
backwoodsman. Here Cooper was on firm
ground; and although he did not fully realize
the opportunity before him, his book was a
revelation to the rest of the world. In it ap-
peared for the first time one of the very great-
est characters in fiction, the old woodsman,
"Natty Bumppo,"-the Leatherstocking who
was to give his name to the series of tales which
to-day is Cooper's best monument. In this
first book we have but a faint sketch of the
character the author afterward worked out with
loving care. Rarely is there a successful se-
quel to a successful novel, but Cooper returned
to Leatherstocking again and again until the
history of his adventures was complete in five
independent tales, the composition of which
extended over eighteen years.
Leaving for the moment Cooper's other writ-
ings, it may be well to note here that the Pio-
neers" was followed in 1826 and 1827 by the
"Last of the Mohicans" and the "Prairie,"
and in 1840 and 1841 by the "Pathfinder"
and the Deerslayer." This was the order in
which they were written, but very different is
the order in which they are to be read when
we wish to follow the career of Natty Bumppo
from the days of his youth, and to trace the de-
velopment of his noble and captivating char-
acter. The latest written is the earliest to be
read in the sequence of events; after the
"Deerslayer" comes the "Last of the Mohi-
cans," followed by the Pathfinder and then
the Pioneers," until in the Prairie" the se-
ries ends with the death of Leatherstocking.
The five tales vary in value, no doubt, but
taken altogether they reveal a marvelous gift
of narration, and an extraordinary fullness of
invention. Merely as stories their interest is
unfailing, while they are ennobled by the char-
acter of Natty.
Even before the publication of the "Pio-
neers," in which he introduced the American
Indian into fiction, Cooper planned another
story which was as daring a novelty. In 1821,






JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


the author of the Waverley Novels," then un-
ascertained, published the "Pirate." In Coo-
per's presence, the argument was advanced that
Scott could not be the unknown author, since
he was a lawyer, and this showed a knowledge
of the ocean such as no landsman could have.
Cooper, who had followed the sea himself,


lished the Pilot," the first salt-water novel ever
written, and to this day one of the very best.
Its nameless and mysterious hero was a marine
Harvey Birch; obviously he had been mod-
eled upon the Paul Jones whose name is held
in terror to this day on the British coast he har-
assed. In Long Tom Coffin," the Nantucket


_ -- ---- --r- -~


r -.


OTSEGO HALL, THE HOME OF JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


maintained that the "Pirate" showed that its
author was not a sailor, since far greater effects
could have been got out of the same materials
if the writer had been a seafarer by profession.
To prove his point, Cooper determined to write
a sea-story. -Sailers there had been in fiction
before, but no novel the scene of which was
laid on the ocean; and Cooper's friends tried to
convince him that the public at large could not
be interested in a life so technical as the seaman's.
But Cooper persevered, and in 1824 he pub-


whaler, Cooper created the only one of his other
characters worthy to take place beside Leather-
stocking; and Tom, like Natty, is simple,
homely, and strong. In writing the "Pilot,"
Cooper evidently had in mind the friends who
thought it impossible to interest the general
reader in a tale of the ocean, and he laid some
of his scenes on land; but it is these very pas-
sages which are tedious to-day, while the scenes
at sea keep their freshness, and have still unfail-
ing interest.


1894.]


c -



I~
r
cu


;


Q
~j~S~b~Y
6\
i~N~






JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


In his second sea-tale, the "Red Rover,"
published in 1828, Cooper avoided this blunder;
after the story is fairly started the action passes
continuously on the water, and the interest is
therefore unbroken. The "Red Rover" may be
said to be wholly a tale of the ocean, as the
Last of the Mohicans is wholly a tale of the
forest. Whether he was on the green billows or
under the green trees, Cooper was completely at
home; he drew from his own experience; he
told what he had seen, what he knew. He
wrote ten sea-tales in all, of which the "Two
Admirals" and "Wing and Wing," both pub-
lished in 1842, are the best after the "Pilot" and
the Red Rover." In 1839, he sent forth his
"History of the United States Navy," to this
day the only authority for the period of which
it treats.
It is by the Spy," by the five Leatherstock-
ing Tales, and by the four or five foremost of
the Sea Tales that, Cooper's fame must be
maintained. But he wrote many other novels,
most of them of little importance. Some of
them, like the "Wept of the Wishtonwish,"
were American in subject; and some were Eu-
ropean, like the Bravo" and the Heads-
man." These last were the result of a long
visit Cooper paid to Europe, extending from
1826 to 1833. In Paris he had the pleasure
of meeting Scott; and in Paris also he had
the pleasure of defending his country against
ignorant insults.
There is no need now to deny that Cooper
seems to have enjoyed a dispute, and he never
went out of his way to avoid a quarrel. After
he returned to the United States he became
involved in numberless arguments of all sorts,
personal, journalistic, literary, historical. He
was frank, opinionated, and absolutely certain
that he always had right on his side. Sure of
his ground, he bore himself bravely and battled
stanchly to repel any attacks he had invited.
His private life was most fortunate. His
home was happy, and his wife and children
were devoted to him. He had many friends;
and his best friends were the best citizens of
New York. When he moved to the city, in
1822, he founded a club, called sometimes after
him, but more generally the Bread and Cheese"
Lunch. To this club belonged Chancellor


Kent; Fitz Greene Halleck, and William Cullen
Bryant, the poets; S.F. B. Morse, the inventor of
the telegraph, and other representatives of the
arts, the sciences, and the learned professions.
Before Cooper went to Europe in 1826 these
friends gave him a public dinner, at which
Chancellor Kent presided and at which De
Witt Clinton, the-governor of the State, Win-
field Scott, the head of the army, and Charles
King, the future president of Columbia Col-
lege, were present. After his return from Eu-
rope in 1833, the same group of distinguished
men tendered to him another banquet, which
he declined.
Nearly a score of years after, when he was
sixty years old, and when he had lived through
the storm of abuse which he had injudiciously
aroused, his friends again made ready to give
him a public testimonial of their regard; but
before the arrangements were perfected he
died. He had retired to Cooperstown years
before, and there with his family he had been
happy, superintending work on his farm, and
writing when he chose. His death took place
on September 14, 1851, at Cooperstown, to
which he had been taken as an infant three
score years before. Had he lived another day,
he would have completed his sixty-second year.
His wife outlived him less than five months.
A few days after his death a meeting of promi-
nent men was held, over which Washington
Irving presided, and as a result of this, William
Cullen Bryant was asked to deliver a discourse
on the life and writings of Cooper. This ora-
tion, spoken early in the next year, remained
the best account of the novelist until Professor
Lounsbury prepared for the American Men of
Letters" series the admirable biography which
appeared in 1882.
A consideration of Cooper's place in literature
involves a comparison with Scott. In the first
place, the Scotchman was the earlier of the two;
it was he who widened the field of the ro-
mance; it was he who pushed the novel to the
front and made fiction the successful rival of
poetry and the drama; it was he who showed all
men how an historical novel might be written.
Cooper is the foremost of Scott's followers, no
doubt, and in skill of narration, in the story-
telling faculty, in the gift of imparting interest


876


[AUG.





JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.


to the incidents of a tale, Cooper at his best is
not inferior to Scott at his best.
Like Scott, Cooper was a writer of romance;
that is to say, he was therefore an optimist, an
idealizer one who seeks to see only the best,
and who refuses to see what is bad. Scott
chose to present only the bright side of chivalry,
and to make the Middle Ages far pleasanter
than they could have been in reality. Probably
Scott knew that the picture he gave of England
under Richard the Lion-Hearted was mislead-
ing; certainly he knew that he was not telling the
whole truth. Now Cooper's red Indians are
quite as real as Scott's black knights, to say
the least. Cooper's Indians are true.to life, ab-
solutely true to life so far as they go. Cooper
told the truth about them,- but he did not tell
the whole truth. He put forward the exception
as the type, sometimes; and he always sup-
pressed some of the red man's ugliest traits.
Cooper tells us that the Indian is cruel as Scott
tells us that a tournament was often fatal; but
he does not convey to us any realization of
the ingrained barbarity and cruelty which was
perhaps the chief characteristic of the Indian
warrior. This side of the red man is kept in
the shadow, while -his bravery, his manliness,
his skill, his many noble qualities are dwelt on
at length.
The characters that Cooper depicts best, are


simple in their strength,-like Long Tom Coffin
and Natty Bumppo. When he sets before his
readers unexplained characters like the un-
named "Pilot," and like the captain of the Red
ROver," we are puzzled rather than charmed.
In the figure of the Spy,-Harvey Birch,-by
a happy accident he was able to combine, in a
measure, some of the mystery of the pilot and
the pirate with the simple strength of the sailor
and the scout.
Time may be trusted safely to make a final
selection from any author's works, however
voluminous they may be, or however unequal.
Cooper died almost exactly in the middle of the
nineteenth century; and already it is the Spy"
and the "Leatherstocking Tales" and four or
five of the Sea Tales which survive, because
they deserve to survive, because they were at
once new and true when they were written, be-
cause they remain to-day the best of their kind.
Cooper's men of the sea, and his men of the
forest and the plain, are alive now, though other
fashions in fiction have come and gone. Other
novelists have a more finished art nowadays,
but no one of them all succeeds more com-
pletely in doing what he tried to do than did
Cooper at his best. And he did a great service
to American literature by showing how fit for
fiction were the scenes, the characters, and the
history of his native land.


// I
/y
,


AN AUGUST SHOWER.
AI A SO I

AN AUGUST SHOWER.


877


1894.]





























IN THE


PATH OF A SOUND
(A True Story.)

BY GERVIS HOWE.


FIVE or six summers ago, when I was just
so many years younger than I am now, and
not much more than half-grown, my friend
Tom Bowers and I spent two or three months
sailing a 21-foot -open cat-boat over the waters
of one of the many harbors which open out
upon Long Island Sound. Tom's summer
home was at the head of the harbor, and as I
lived conveniently near, and close to the shore,
there was n't a day, barring Sundays, for two
months that we were not aboard the "Bessie
B.,"- that was the cat's name.
Now Tom and I had been at this sort of
thing, knocking around the water in one boat
or another, almost every day all summer for
several years; and consequently we had pretty
much used up all the ordinary adventures
which most readily occurred to us. We had
raced big boats that beat us because they were
too big, and we had raced little boats that beat
us because they were too fast. We had lain to
over the deep lobster-hole, hauled in and paid
out three hundred feet of thin rope all day, and
gone home with nothing but the redness of
four terribly chafed hands to remind us of the


STEAMER.


lobsters that were not; and we had done so
many other things.
Tom Bowers's father was vice-president of
one of the lines of big passenger-steamers which
ply through the Sound between New York and
eastern ports; and in the course of a trip up the
Sound and back, the previous summer, on the
"Priscilla," Tom and I had become partic-
ularly well acquainted with her pilot. While
we were on the steamer I said to Tom that I
thought it would be great fun to come out some
night in the cat and signal the Priscilla, and Tom
asked the pilot if he would give us the three
whistles in case we did so. Of course the pilot
said he was willing to do a little thing like that
to please us; and thereupon we forgot all about
the matter until one of those hot, still, dry, mid-
summer days when it was so dry one could n't
even whistle for a breeze. I never knew what
made Tom think of the Priscilla scheme unless
it was that there was n't a single other scheme
to think about. All of a sudden he said he
was going to write Pilot Higginson that very
night, and the next afternoon we would go out
and signal the Priscilla.


F,--





IN THE PATH OF A SOUND STEAMER.


Well, then we resolved ourselves intoacom-
mittee of the whole to discuss ways and means.
You see it was now along the latter part of Au-
gust, and the Priscilla did n't go by our harbor
until ten minutes to seven, some time after
dark, so no ensign-dipping or anything of that
sort would do. We finally concluded to get a
lot of red fire in the village, sail out of the har-
bor late in the afternoon, so as to get to the
regular track of the steamers before dark, and
then cruise back and forth across the track until
we saw the Priscilla's lights, when we would run
down on her at a safe distance, bur our red
fire, and get the glory of the responsive salute.
That night Tom wrote Pilot Higginson, and
we bought the red fire. The next morning the
wind came out very sharp from the northwest;
there were pretty big seas and lots of white
caps, and what was worse, the wind kept on
blowing harder and harder, until along about
the middle of the day we made up our minds
there would be no salute for us that night.
In the afternoon, however, the gale began to
moderate rapidly, and at half-past four we got
under way under a double reef and began to beat
out of the harbor. The wind ran down so fast
that in half an hour we had shaken out a reef,
and an hour later the breeze was on its last legs
and we were gliding gently along under all sail.
A little before sunset we were a full mile south
of the steamer track, and the wind kept on get-
ting weaker and weaker, until we were afraid
we should never get near enough the Priscilla
for her to pay any attention to our lights. Still
we had a little good luck,- or bad luck,- and
just as the sun went down we crawled over the
track; and just as the sun went down the wind
went out like a lighted candle in a bucket of wa-
ter. I tell you what, we boys were glad we 'd
gotten there at last, especially after it had seemed
so doubtful all day, and then the breeze dying
away and all that; so we just let everything go
and set to work spreading the red-fire powder
all around the deck just outside the combing.
The deck did n't seem over dry, because, as is
usual on still August nights, a very heavy dew
was beginning to fall. As soon as we got
through with this we lay down comfortably to
await the appearance of the Priscilla's lights.
We -lay there about half an hour or so,


munching away at a bite of cold supper, as
happy, and about as intelligent, as a couple of
clams at high water, when all of a sudden ap-
peared the lights of a steamer swinging around
the point about three or four miles away. We
were sure at once that she was the Priscilla,
because the Priscilla left her pier half an hour
earlier than the other fast boats, and, dropping
the slow ones, always headed the regular even-
ing procession before she reached our harbor.
There were ten minutes to spare before our red
fire would be required, so we just sat there and
watched her lights. When the steamer first
came in sight she was almost broadside on, and
we could see the electric lights from her cabins,
and occasionally the glow from her starboard
furnaces, that side being toward us, as well as
her white steamer light at the masthead. As
she kept swinging around the point, to lay the
new course east, which she would hold for a
hundred miles or more, pretty soon she showed
us her starboard (green) light. Then she kept
on swinging further and further around until she
showed her port (red) light also. Then she
stopped swinging, and came right on. I re-
member when she first showed her green light,
I thought that of course she was going to leave
us on her starboard side, and that when she
afterward showed her red light, I thought she
was going to leave us on the port side; but
when she continued to show both lights we
were busy putting the finishing touches on the
red-fire arrangements, getting the matches
ready, etc., and I don't think I thought any
more about the steamer's lights for two or three
minutes.
I suppose we took it for granted that she
would sheer again one way or the other, prob-
ably keeping to starboard, in a few minutes.
But she did n't; she kept straight on in a bee-
line, and when we looked up from our work
and saw those big green and red eyes coming
nearer and nearer, while the dull roar of the
machinery grew louder and louder through the
still damp. air of the summer night, we both
simultaneously concluded that we had better
move, for she was coming as straight at us as if
it were daylight and she saw us and intended
to split us exactly in half. Of course we had
no anchor, light, or lantern. I know we ought


879






IN THE PATH OF A SOUND STEAMER.


to have taken one with us, but we had n't; and
as to seeing our boat without a light in time
to sheer off, why she 'd have cut us in two,
and left the pieces a hundred yards astern
before she could have gone the necessary
twenty-five or fifty feet or so out of her course.
There was n't a breath of air stirring, and Tom
sung out to me to get the sweep, which we
usually carried lashed to the deck, overboard.
The sweep was at home, leaning up against the
boat-house, where I had put it after giving it a
coat of spar-varnish that morning; so I did n't
bother about the sweep, except to think how
stupid I was to have left it behind, but jumped
down into the cock-pit to see if I could find
a piece of board, or pull up some of the false
floor, or, in short, get anything that would do
to paddle with. Tom saw what the trouble
was, and jumped down to help me, but there
was n't enough loose wood in all that boat to
make a toothpick of; so then we gave that up,
and since we could not get out of the steamer's
way, we thought we would light our red fire
soon enough for her to see the blaze and get
out of our way.
I remember I was n't scared a bit up to that
time, and Tom told me afterward that he
was n't either, because we both felt very sure
that we could set off our red light any time we
chose. By this time the steamer was getting
so near that we could see some faint trace of
her outline and could hear the band playing
on her forward deck; and she was still coming
as straight at our little boat as if she were a
gigantic projectile sent with unerring aim from
some mammoth gun.
The first match I struck on the damp deck
sputtered a moment and went out; with the
second I was too hasty and broke the stick;
but the third I lighted carefully on the heel of
my shoe, then I held it until the wood was well
burned, and then I reached out at arm's length
and touched the flame to the powder. We ex-
pected to see a tremendous flash and blaze, but
I held that match down in that powder until


the wood had burned clear down to my fingers
and my fingers smarted with pain; and for all
the result, the powder might just as well have
been so much wet sand. The fact is, the heavy
dew had played havoc with it. Tom of course
was trying his best to light the powder also,
but I know I have never been so scared in all
my life as I was while we held the matches in
the powder and the powder would not take fire.
The steamer was now so near that it seemed
as if all must be over in a few moments. With
her lights and smoke and all, she looked like a
whole city coming down on us. There was no
chance of diving and staying down beneath
that enormous length of keel, and I could al-
most feel the blows of her great paddles. I
struck more matches by twos and threes and
tossed them into the powder without effect;
and then looking up at the vast hulk rushing
upon us, now clearly visible to the eye, I was
surprised to see that the red light had disap-
peared, but the green was still there. Then
the monstrous prow, tearing the water asunder,
rushed past, not over us; a tremendous blaze
of red fire enveloped our little craft and lighted
up the whole side of the steamer; passengers
rushed excitedly to the rails; we were lifted on
one enormous wave, and then, dropping down
into a hollow, were left safe in the seething
suds of the white wake of the fast receding
Priscilla.
I suppose one of the matches had chanced
to strike a place where some of the powder
was dry, and that first started it going and then
set it all off at once.
Somehow or other-I don't know just how
-we got home about midnight. We supposed
that we had in some way which we could not
divine been seen from the steamer; but our
friend the pilot afterward told us that such was
not the case. He knew nothing about passing
our boat until we told him of it. He distinctly
remembered altering his course a trifle just at
that point, but did not know why he did so. It
was the only change he made for a hundred miles.











































TROUBLED.

BY M. M. D.

IF it were not for fairies, this world would be drear;
(I 'm sure they are true,-heigh-ho!)
The grass would not tangle,
The bluebells would jangle,
And things would be stupid and queer, you know,
And everything dull if the fairies should go.
(I 'm sure they are true,-heigh-ho!)

I love to believe in the godmothers's mice,
And Hop-o'-my-Thumb, heigh-ho!
And it's cruel in Willy
To call me a silly.
If brothers would only be nice, you know,
Not tease and make fun, all my troubles would go,-
I 'd believe in the fairies forever,- heigh-ho!
VOL. XXI.-III. 88i


IIII~D~ISC;~eF-~L=,- -ii ~j~D~;=Ei~











A ONE-SIDED CORRESPONDENCE.


By ANTOINETTE GOLAY.


"Do you believe, Cousin Kate, that any one
could keep up a one-sided correspondence
long? I have written three letters in suc-
cession to Edith Howard while she has been
crossing the ocean, and I do not believe I can
write another until I hear from her. It is n't
that I don't like her just the same; but it is
simply no use! "
The despairing correspondent cast down her
pen and looked for consolation to the lady
reading at the table near by.
Cousin' Kate looked up responsively and
pondered a minute over the question. Then
suddenly she laughed. Yes, Grace," she said,
" I believe that it is -.i-.sbl.e to have all the
letters come from one side.' In fact I know
it, for I tried it once for a while, and made
quite a success of it, though I confess that it
was hard at times."
Tell me about it," demanded Grace, basely
deserting her letter and establishing herself on
the rug before her cousin.
"I am very willing to tell you about it, but I
warn you that it is a long story. However, it
may teach you a bit of a lesson as it taught
me; so prepare to listen.
In the first place, then-I have known Helen
Mason ever since we both were tiny children.
We went to the same school, and the same
church, but Helen and I were never really
friends until after her father's death. I remem-
ber how pathetic she and her little sister looked
when they sat in church the first Sunday, in
their little black frocks, and hats with white
flowers and black ribbons. I looked at them
from across the church with a feeling almost of
awe, their sorrow seemed so to set them apart
from the rest of us. How was I to know that
my own father was so soon to be taken away
from me? He died that same summer, and
when I went back to school the girls were shy
with me just as we all had been shy and con-
strained with Helen and her sister.


"Softened by her own grief, she understood
better than the rest how to sympathize with
mine. I do not know that she really did much
except to sit beside me in class and lend me
pencils without waiting to be asked, but there
was an atmosphere of sympathy about her that
was balm to my sore little heart. And later,
when the sharpness of our grief had softened
and the black gowns had been laid aside, Helen
and I developed a singleness of purpose and
union in mischief that went far toward crazing
our teachers and made us boon companions.
"But this is not telling about the correspon-
dence. I '11 come to that at once. After we
had danced through a few more years of happy
school-life there came separation. Helen went
to Europe and I to college. I believe that
until then it had never occurred to us that we
were very fond of each other. But when we
suddenly realized that we were soon to have
the ocean, and probably some years, to separate
us, we were sufficiently miserable. The night
before she sailed-it was in June, and I was to
enter college in September-we took a long
walk along the lake and decided that though
our friendship had been hardly more than a suc-
cession of laughs and scrapes, it should brave
absence and stand through thick and thin.
' You won't decide at college that I am too
untaught for you ? Helen asked.
"And I replied sturdily, 'Nonsense There is
more danger that you will find during your
travels that your penned-up college friend is
too stupid for you.' We parted with very little
fear that either would prove inconstant.
"Throughout the summer both of us wrote
regularly. And in the fall I went to college,
where at first I crippled my allowance, buying
five-cent stamps to send to my friend homesick
laments for the good old days. Such sunny,
interesting letters she wrote me! Now I won-
der, and cannot understand how, I ever came to
the conclusion that they were not satisfactory,





A ONE-SIDED CORRESPONDENCE.


and that she was not at all my ideal friend.
Yes, my dear. You look shocked, and I do
not blame you; but ft is a fact that I began to
feel that Helen was not a satisfactory friend.
I suppose it was because the girls about me
were so different. Helen had been as shy of
demonstration as I was, and it was a revela-
tion to me to see these girls with their arms
locked and their speech overflowing with affec-
tionate expressions. When one or two of them
bestowed upon me some of these pretty little
attentions, I found it, surprisingly easy to re-
spond, and came to the natural if not very
sensible conclusion that friendship could not
properly exist without them. So when I found
that I could be effusively demonstrative upon
occasion I decided that I had not been really
fond of Helen, and, by the same logic, I came
to think that she had not been very fond of me.
Moreover, to a girl -plunged for the first
time into an atmosphere of absorbing books
and study, where 'learning' is the word and
-dig ever' the motto, outside matters seem of
little importance. So Helen's letters with their
bright bits of description and entertaining little
anecdotes seemed to upstart freshman me not
improving, and therefore not worth while.
"One day, just before Christmas, I carried
my troubles to a senior who had taken some
notice of me, and to whom I gave a blind
devotion because of her glittering social superi-
ority in the little college-world wherein we lived.
Do you think, Miss Gray,' I asked, that cir-
*cumstances ought to rule our affections ?'
I was proud of that sentence, but it natu-
rally puzzled Miss Gray. That circumstances
ought to rule our affections ?' she repeated.
Now, just what do you mean?'
I explained to her that I meant, ought we
to feel bound to care more for a person whom
circumstances had thrown in our way and
whom we had perhaps known a great many
years than for other people whom we had
perhaps known only a few weeks, but for whom
we felt an intense liking.
"Then my great and noble senior made a
very silly speech. 'Katherine,' she exclaimed
reproachfully, I hoped you had grown more
than that this year. Have you not learned
that two human beings should stand soul to


soul; and that there are few things more per-
nicious than a servile loyalty to persons whom
you have really outgrown ?'
"That extraordinary utterance has always
remained with me. I think that perhaps the
secret of my admiration for Miss Gray was due
to her way of uttering high-sounding sentences
with an air of conviction that did much to im-
press her hearers. I went away feeling that I
had gained broader ideas of life,' and by way
of putting them in practice I did not write my
usual Sunday letter to Helen that afternoon.
"Helen's letters came regularly, but mine
grew less frequent, and finally stopped altoge-
ther, except for occasional cold, stiff notes of
which I ought to have been ashamed, but
which I felt reflected great credit upon my
superior intellect."
"But, Cousin Katherine, what did Helen
think of that ? Was n't she angry ? said Grace.
Yes," said that lady, smiling a little at some
recollection called up by Grace's words. "Yes,
she was decidedly angry. Helen was not a girl
to be neglected and to meekly submit. She
wrote and demanded the reason for the change
in my letters; and demanded it at once, saying
she did not relish being experimented upon
in that way. And, Grace, what do you suppose
I did?"
Looking down at her small cousin's grave
face Miss Kate laughed merrily, then checked
herself suddenly.
"Indeed I do not know why I laugh," she
said. It is. no laughing matter, except that it
was so supremely idiotic. I deliberately sat
down and wrote Helen the most remarkable
epistle I have ever penned, telling her gravely
and frankly of my change of heart. I begged
her not to feel that I thought she had deterio-
rated' when I told her I had come to see that
our friendship was a mistake; that she was to
me, as she had always been, a very charming
girl, but that during the past year I had grown
to realize that friendship demanded something
more-' a deep intellectual companionship'
which we had never felt. I believe I told her
in substance that while I could not waste my
precious time writing to her I was still always
glad to receive her letters. I know that I rec-
ommended various books calculated to raise





A ONE-SIDED CORRESPONDENCE.


her mind to a plane from which she could ap-
preciate my feelings. And then I sent off the
letter, which unfortunately did not burst with
its own conceit, but crossed the ocean and
reached Helen in Switzerland.
It was a long time, of course, before a reply
could possibly come; and I was more anxious
than I cared to confess to myself to know the
manner of her reception of my letter. I think
that half unconsciously I expected an enthusias-
tic and admiring reply, a humble form of' Oh,
be my friend and teach me to be thine.' But if
I did I was greatly mistaken. When Helen's
reply came it was cold and clear and rather
sarcastic. She said I had attained heights to
which she had never even aspired, that during
the course of her existence she had read the
books I mentioned, which, she remarked in
parentheses, could be found outside my college
library, but that they had failed to elevate her
to anything approaching the summit where I
stood; that she still cherished weak-minded
loyalty to her friends in general, and was quite
without any desire to change; that while she
was fully conscious of the honor conveyed in
my permission to her to write, she thought best
not to avail herself of it. It was a letter not
much more tender and noble than mine had
been. Only at the end was a postscript where
there was a bit of her true self. Oh, Kitty,' it
said, I am so sorry and disappointed !'
If the letter had come to me at college,
especially during the excitement pervading our
lives with the commencement festivities on
hand, I might have read it carelessly and felt
more than ever a high-souled martyr. But it
reached college a day after I had left, and was
forwarded to me at home. I read it there in
the midst of all the people and places that
recalled Helen, because when I had last seen
them she was there. I was beginning to re-
alize what an important part of it all she had
been, and was ardently hoping that my letter
had been lost at sea or received as a huge joke,
when the little note came to shatter all my
hopes and make me feel what a goose I had
been. And now, dear," she said, glancing down
to see how much patience Grace had left,
"now I have come to the one-sided corre-
spondence. It began at once with a series of


contrite and apologetic notes which I sent
almost semi-weekly, and to which I received
never a word of reply. Quite conscious that I
did not deserve any, I kept on writing, always
with some words of repentance of what I
frankly dubbed my idiocy, and always with
eager endeavor to make my letters worth read-
ing. Naturally it was rather hard on my impa-
tience, and one day, in a particularly frantic
frame of mind, I wrote a despairing note to
serene little Polly Mason, who had more than
once been confidante and councilor when
Helen and I had come to grief. I begged
her to write me in what spirit Helen received
my letters, and if it was worth while for me to
go on writing. In due time came a note from
this grave and sagacious young person, who
had always been wise beyond her years.
"'Heler has not said much to me about it,'
she wrote, but I know she is very much hurt,
and I think she does not intend to write to you.
I think she believes you will stop when you go
back to college. My advice to you is to write
as often as you feel inclined through the year,
whether she answers or not. I think it will all
come out right.'
Inspired by this sound advice, I continued
my unanswered letters to my silent friend. It
was a very full year. I regret to say that I lost a
great deal of my freshman conceit, and mixed
much outside fun with my work. But with all
the work and play, I was never too busy to
write the weekly letter to Helen. And such
letters! I was determined to prove myself
worthy of the friendship I had so stupidly and
needlessly forfeited, and I wrote always on my
finest, class note-paper, and took an amount of
pains given to none of my other correspon-
dents. I grew to take a certain pleasure in the
letters, and I believe no other writing I have
ever done has helped me as much as all those
unanswered letters. For they were unanswered.
Helen was deeply hurt, and all the winter and
spring passed away without. a line from her.
Only from time to time Polly sent me cheering
little notes, without which I should hardly have
had the courage to go on writing.
"Vacation came again, and I went home,
knowing that Helen would be there almost as
soon as J, and feeling very embarrassed and





A ONE-SIDED CORRESPONDENCE.


forlorn when I thought of seeing her. All our
friends were excited at the prospect of her
return, and asked me whenever they saw me
just when she was to arrive. Those were hard
days for me. I would not confess to them that
I had had no letters from her during all the
winter, and I dreaded constantly that they
would suspect it.
At last some one said to me one day, Is n't
it jolly that the Masons are to be here to-mor-
row ?' and I went home to sit forlornly on a log
near the lake and wonder if I should go to call
alone or ask some of the girls to go with me.
"I was just deciding to be brave and go by
myself and have it over, when Helen herself
stood before me looking so delightfully famil-
iar and pretty that I forgot all about every-


thing except that she was there twelve hours
before I expected her, and instead of the elab-
orate greeting I had planned I gasped raptur-
ously, 'Helen, dear!-how are you here so
soon ?'
"' We came just half an hour ago,' she said,
'and I have n't been home at all; I came
straight here from the station. Oh, Kitty,
have n't we been geese, and are n't we glad
to see each other!'
"So all clouds vanished in a moment. From
that day, we have been affectionate friends and
cronies. And that is the cheerful end of my
one-sided correspondence."
"Thank you very much," said Grace; "I
really feel encouraged to write to Edith. But
I do hope she 'll answer within the year."


FISH-DAY.


885


000
















































A BOWL OF


HONEY.


BY ANNIE ISABEL WILLIS.


DOROTHY DOLE with a hand-painted bowl
Went out to get some honey.
"Please, Mr. Bee, a quart," said she,
"And here is yellow money."
She held the bowl up with a buttercup,-
How very, very funny!


Dorothy dear, O hark and hear
What the buzzing bee is singing:
"The honey sweet lies at your feet
In clover tops a-swinging."
So fill your bowl, my Dorothy Dole,
With all that summer's bringing.


a#s47







THE WHIPPOORWILL.

BY V. LANSING COLLINS.


WHEN you 've seen the shadows falling
O'er the swamp-land chill,
If you 're near it, wait-you '11 hear it;
Sounds as if 't were some one calling,
TWhoo-eep! perwill!


Wait until the moonbeams yellow
Steal up o'er the hill;
Then it 's night-time and the right time
For the bird to call that mellow
Whoo-eep / perwill!


ST,.


MY CHUM.

IF I say "boo," he '11 scowl at you,
And wrinkle up and growl;
But he won't bite a single mite,
Unless you run and howl.
887







THE WHIPPOORWILL.

BY V. LANSING COLLINS.


WHEN you 've seen the shadows falling
O'er the swamp-land chill,
If you 're near it, wait-you '11 hear it;
Sounds as if 't were some one calling,
TWhoo-eep! perwill!


Wait until the moonbeams yellow
Steal up o'er the hill;
Then it 's night-time and the right time
For the bird to call that mellow
Whoo-eep / perwill!


ST,.


MY CHUM.

IF I say "boo," he '11 scowl at you,
And wrinkle up and growl;
But he won't bite a single mite,
Unless you run and howl.
887



















































































A REAL UNCLE REMUS STORY.






888












JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.

By HOWARD PYLE.


[Begun in the Afril number. ]

CHAPTER XIV (CONTINUED).

HEZEKIAH TIPTON'S office was empty when
Attorney Burton came.upon the afternoon ap-
pointed. It was a dull, wet day-a steady
downpour of moisture that had chilled the little
man through and through. He was very damp
and uncomfortable, and he was very much irri-
tated when he found that the old America mer-
chant was not in. He waited and waited, but
still Hezekiah did not come. The minutes
dragged themselves along into hours, and the
hours dragged themselves along into two or
three, the little attorney's impatience becoming
ever more and more keen and irritating. "I
don't know what the man means by keeping me
thus," he muttered for the fiftieth time. Plague
upon him! I '11 make him pay for keeping me
in this way." He got down from the stool on
which he sat perched, and walked uneasily up
and down the room.
The dusk of early evening began to settle
gloomily. The rain was falling more heavily
than ever. There was the sound of approach-
ing footsteps in the rain outside. "If that 's
not he," said the little man aloud, I '11 go."
Then the door opened, and the old America
merchant came in, wet and sodden with the
penetrating rain. He did not seem to see the
other, but went straight across the room, and
took off his hat and coat and wig and hung
them up. Then he wiped his head, and then he
put on his loose, threadbare office-coat and
skull-cap. The little lawyer stood staring at
him. He was very irritated, and the old man's
deliberation stirred him to a sudden nervous


"Hey !" said the old man, and he turned
facing the lawyer for the first time. "Kept
you -waiting, d' ye say? Well, how could I
help that, Master Burton ?-how did I know
ye 'd come so early in the art'noon? And then,
did n't I have to wait down on the wharf to
talk to Mr. Bilbow?-and that kept me, aye,
a great while longer than a body 'd a-thought.
But now ye 're here and the day 's so late,
won't you stay to supper, Master Burton?"
No, I won't," said the little man, angrily;
"I came here to talk business with you, Master
Tipton, and not to eat with you. Here I 've
been three hours swinging my heels and waiting
for you. I don't know why I wait on you so
neither. 'T is you who should wait on me in
this business."
The old man looked steadily at the attorney
through the twilight gray of the office for a
little while. "Well, what is it you want, Mas-
ter Burton ?" he said at last.
"What do I want? Why, you know very
well what I want, Master Tipton. You can't
have forgot what I told ye yesterday. I want
some settlement or other in this business of
your nephew's; and I want it without wasting,
any more time about it."
By this time the dusk of the office had grown
gloomy indeed. Hezekiah went out, returning
presently with a couple of lighted candles.
"Now then, Master Burton," said he, "I am
ready to talk with you." He spoke very
sharply. "You told me yesterday you had
some papers of some sort; have you got 'em
with you now ?"
Yes."
"Well, then, let me see them."


anger. The attorney handed the little packet across
"You 've kept me waiting a long time, Mas- the table. "You are to understand," said he,
ter Tipton," he broke out, and I can tell you, "that these are only copies."
sir, I 'm little pleased with you for it." "Aye," said old Hezekiah; I understand.
VOL. XXI.- II2. 889






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


But tell me, Master Burton, where be the
originals ?"
Why," said the attorney, "I have them
safe enough."
"Yes, I dare say so. But suppose some-
thing was to happen to you, Master Burton,
would n't those papers be apt to cause some-
body trouble ?"
"No fear of that," said the little lawyer.
"I 've managed it so that no one will touch
them but myself. They shall be handed over,
Master Tipton, to anybody who chooses to pay
me a hundred pounds for them, and to nobody
else, and when they're handed over I 'm ready
to give bond to have no more to do with this
business."
"And does no one else know aught of these
papers?"
No," said the attorney, I sell them to the
man as buys them and to nobody else."
"That 's right, that 's right," said the old
man. He adjusted his spectacles as he spoke,
untied the packet, opened the first paper that
came to his hand and began slowly and delib-
erately reading it. When he had ended the
reading he began carefully reading it over
again. When he had thus finished reading
it for the second time, he turned the paper
over and examined it closely, and then he began
to read it through for even the third time. His
deliberation was very exasperating to the little
lawyer, already irritated by the long delay he
had been subjected to. He shuffled his feet and
moved restlessly in his seat, but his uneasiness
did not in any way seem to hurry or confuse
old Hezekiah in his slow and careful perusal of
the paper.
When, upon having thus read it over three
times, he had finished the first, he took up the
second paper and gave it the same close and
deliberate scrutiny, and when he had laid it
aside he took up the third in the same careful
manner.
Meantime the gray had disappeared from
the sky, and the office windows, as the attorney
glanced toward them, looked out upon a night
seemingly as black-as pitch. At last the old
man finished his reading. He took off his
spectacles, laid them at one side upon the
desk, gathered up the papers one by one, tied


them carefully with the tape, and handed them
across the desk to the lawyer.
"Well, Master Hezekiah," said the little
attorney, "you 've read the papers now; what
do you think of 'em, and what do you intend
to do about this business?"
"Why," said the old America merchant,
" I '11 tell you what I 've made up my mind to
do, Master Attorney. I '11 give you my written
promise to pay you just seventy pound five year
hence, and interest in full at four per cent., if
you '11 give me all the papers in this business
and go home and say no more about it."
The proposal was so sudden and unexpected
that the attorney did not know what to make
of it at first. He stared blankly at Hezekiah.
"What ?" he burst out at last. "Seventy
pounds!-five years!-why, you don't know
what you are talking about, Master Tipton. I
told you truly that I did n't choose to go to the
Americas, and I don't choose if I can help it;
but you know very well that if I do go there
and find Master Jack Ballister, and bring him
back, and help him to bring suit for conspiracy
against you,- for I know very well 't was you
who kidnapped him, Master Hezekiah,-there 'd
be far more than one hundred pounds in it for
me. No, no; I won't sell what I know for
seventy pounds, and that 's flat."
The old man listened impassively to all he
said. The little lawyer waited, but the other
said nothing. Come, come, Master Tipton,"
the lawyer began again, "let's talk it over rea-
sonably. You make some proposition I can
meet, and I '11 think it over. But seventy
pounds!-five years hence Why, 't is out of
the question." But the old man seemed to
have drifted back into his usual dull state.
"I '11 give you seventy pound, to be paid in
five year," said he. "That's what I said, and
I '11 stick to it."
The little attorney sat glaring.. at him. He
was bitterly and cruelly disappointed. "I see
you 're in no mind to be reasonable, Master
Tipton," said he, almost choking with anger.
"Very well; I '11 go, but you '1l hear from me
again as sure as you 're alive, Master Tipton."
He slipped down slowly from the stool as he
spoke, and picked up his hat. He lingered for
a moment with his hand upon the latch, having


890





JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


a faint, waning hope that the old man might call
him back; but Hezekiah said nothing. He,
also, had gotten down from his stool, and had
come around to the front of the desk.
Won't you stay to supper, Master Burton?"
said he.
No, I won't," said the attorney. Then he
stepped out into the court. It was as black as
pitch. A faint light shone in a window, part
way down the inky length, and there was a
lamp in the street beyond; otherwise the dark-
ness was impenetrable. The little man hesi-
tated for a moment. Hezekiah had followed
him to the door. Have you a lantern, Master
Tipton?" he asked; "why, 't is as dark as a
wolf's mouth !"
"No," answered Hezekiah, I have no lan-
tern; I '11 hold the candle for you if you want
me to, but 't is only a step to the street."
At first, as Master Burton slipped and stum-
bled along in the darkness upon the uneven
cobbled footway, he thought of nothing but of
the difficulties of walking; but the darkness
around him was so impenetrable that thoughts
of personal danger gradually edged themselves
into his mind. "What if some one should
attack me here in the darkness ? thought he.
But the thought was only fugitive, for he recol-
lected directly that Hezekiah was standing
behind him at the door of his counting-house,
and that the street lamp was not twenty paces
away before him. "'T is only a step," he said
to himself with renewed courage.
Suddenly, as he went slowly and uncertainly
along, he heard the sound of footsteps in an
alley-way behind him. They came out upon
the street in the direction he was going. A
keen, nervous thrill seemed to pierce through
his breast, and in spite of himself he quickened
his steps. The end of the street was not twelve
paces away, but with the blind impulse of ner-
vous fear that sometimes overtakes one in the
darkness, it was as much as he could do to
keep from running. Suddenly, close behind him
there was a noise of hurrying feet. The thought
flashed through his mind, "Somebody is after
me!" but he reassured himself; "no, there is the
street corner and a light; no one would hurt me
here." The next instant there came a crash as
though the heavens had burst asunder, a flash-


ing flame of livid fire and a myriad sparkling
points of light. The thought shot through his
brain, It has happened after all," and then the
sparks had vanished, and the roaring in his ears
had hummed suddenly away into silence.
Hezekiah, as he stood at his counting-house
door, holding the candle in his hand, and peer-
ing down the darkness of the court, heard the
heavy, cruel blow; then, a moment later, a
smothered groan, then stillness. He stood lis-
tening intently for an instant, and then drew
quickly back into his office. Shutting the door,
he stood holding the latch in one hand and the
candle in the other.
He was breathing thickly with excitement.
"I 'd 'a' given him seventy pound," he whis-
pered-" but he would n't take it."

CHAPTER XV.
LIFE AT THE ROOST.
THERE was nearly always company of some
sort or another at the Roost when Mr. Parker
was at home. The house was just now pretty
full of company. Among others Mr. Harry
Oliver was a guest at the old house.
The Dunmore Plantation had once been one
of the richest in Virginia. But it had now
gone altogether to ruin, for Mr. Parker had riot
money to spare for keeping-it up.
Everything had fallen into a careless, shift-
less manner of living, of which Jack had caught
the contagion. Even the knowledge that he
might at any time be punished, perhaps se-
verely, for his neglect of his duties, could not
keep him always up to the point of attending
to them. He spent a great deal of his time
at the stables, gossiping carelessly with Dennis
and the negroes, and sometimes Mr. Parker
was very angry with him.
Jack was late one morning in bringing Mr.
Parker's shoes to him. Mr. Parker was walk-
ing up and down in his stocking feet, and
Harry Oliver was sitting laughing at him.
"Where have you been with those shoes, sir-
rah?" called Mr. Parker. Here have I
been sending all around the house for you, and
you nowhere to be found, and I with no shoes
fit to wear!"
Why, your honor," said Jack, as he kneeled






JACK BALLISTER'S' FORTUNES.


upon the floor and buckled them to Mr. Park-
er's feet, I 've been lacquering them. I had
them over in the stable."
Harry Oliver burst out laughing.
Over in the stable Over in the stable! "
said Mr. Parker. "Why did you have my
shoes over in the stable ? "
Why, your honor, the lacquer bottle is over
at the stable."
"Why do you keep the lacquer bottle over
at the stable?"
I don't know, your honor," said Jack.
But it hath always been there, and so I take
the shoes over there to lacquer them." Again
Harry Oliver burst out laughing.
"Well, that 's no place for the lacquer bottle
to be, or for you to take my shoes either. 'T is
my belief that you 're there to idle away your
time. Now do you see that hereafter you
keep the lacquer bottle over here, and don't
take my shoes over there to lacquer them any
more. D' ye hear ?"
"Yes, your honor."
Mr. Parker frowned down at him with his
handsome, florid face for a moment or two.
"You do ill enough in your place," said he,
"and are not worth the victuals you eat. I
tell ye, sirrah, I '11 have a change or else I 'll
know why."
Yes, your honor."
Again Mr. Parker stared gloomily at Jack in
silence. "I 've been too easy with you. I '11
have you whipped the very next time you
slight me. Now go and curl my wig; it should
have been done yesterday and not left till this
morning. And then get everything ready to
shave me."
"Yes, your honor," said Jack; and as he
hurried away he was buoyed up with a pro-
found feeling of relief that he had escaped so
well without punishment.

Mr. Parker was away from home. Jack had
heard him tell Mrs. Pitcher that he intended
to be gone for a week. The same day Dennis
and the negroes began making ready the hoy,
a large sail-boat, to go down the river to the
Roads on a fishing-trip.
Jack was very melancholy, for Dennis's going
with the negroes would leave him almost alone


in the Roost. It seemed to him as though
everybody was going away.
How far is it you go, Dennis ? said he.
"About forty mile," said Dennis.
"How long will you be gone ?"
"About three or four days."
He 's going to take me," said Little Coffee.
"Are you really going to take him too?"
asked Jack.
"Why, yes," said Dennis; "methought he
might as well go."
Jack's spirits fell heavier than ever. Even
Little Coffee was going. "I 've a great mind
to go along too," said Jack.
"Why, how can you go?" said Dennis.
"His honor gave you no leave to go. Sup-
pose his honor was to come back and find
you 've gone away with me, what d' ye sup-
pose '11 happen then?"
"A fig for his honor!" said Jack. "I 'm
not afraid of his honor. Anyhow, I 'm going
with you, unless you choose to stop me from
going."
"No, I '11 not stop you," said Dennis.
"You 're your own master for me."
"Will you wait for me, Dennis, till I go up
to the house?"
"I '11 wait," said Dennis, "till the boat 's
ready; and that '11 be a half-hour maybe."
Peggy Pitcher was busied about the house,
and Jack could not find her at first. "Well,
Mrs. Pitcher," said Jack, "I 'm going off fish-
ing with Dennis."
"And what if his honor comes back? said
she. "If he comes back and finds you gone
he '11 not spare you, 't is my belief."
Jack looked out of the window. They were
just pushing off the hoy. Jack ran down-stairs,
out of the house, and down to the landing.
The hoy was afloat, and they were just shoving
it off from the landing against which it had
drifted. "Wait for me, Dennis," he called,
and he ran and jumped into it. "You might
have waited," said he, "as you said you would."
"I did n't say I would wait," said Dennis,
"and you should n't go, anyhow."
"Well, then, you said 't would take you a
half-hour to get ready to start."
Dennis made no reply, and the next moment
they had the boat free from the wharf. Jack


892






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


helped the negro raise the patched and dingy
sail. The canvas flapped heavily; the blocks
creaked and rattled as they hoisted the jib.
Dennis put down the tiller and the boat came
about, the sail filling out smooth and round as
the negroes drew the sheet taut. "About!"
he called, and Jack crouched down and the
boom came swinging over. As the boat heeled
over to the wind, Jack looked back toward the
Roost as it dropped away astern, and then for
the first time a heavy and uncomfortable cloud
of doubt as to the consequences of what he was
doing overshadowed him. He almost wished
he had not come. But he thrust the thought
away from him, and presently the still lurking
feeling of discomfort was almost smothered in
the joy of the breeze and the open sky. How
far did you say you had to go, Dennis ? said
he, sliding along the uptilted weather rail, on
which he was sitting, toward Dennis at the
helm.
Maybe about forty miles," said Dennis.
His look lingered upon Jack for a second or
two. Suppose you 've got yourself into trou-
ble," said he, "for running off this here way,
what '11 you do then ?"
Jack laughed, but he felt that there was the
sound of constraint and uneasiness in his laugh.
"Why," said he, "'t is n't one chance in a hun-
dred his honor '11 come back. Anyhow 't is too
late to talk about that now."
It was afternoon when they approached the
fishing-ground. Every now and then Dennis
peered down into the water over the edge of
the hoy, as it drifted along close-hauled to the
wind. Two negroes stood ready to drop the
sail, and one stood in the bows to throw over
the anchor when Dennis should give the order.
" Let go!" shouted Dennis suddenly, and the
sail fell with a rattle of the block and tackle,
and in a heap of canvas. At the same time
the negro in the bow threw the anchor over-
board with a great loud splash.
It was not till the middle of the afternoon
that they began fishing. Jack and Little Coffee
were the first to throw their lines overboard.
As he sat watching the negro boy, Jack hoped
with all his might that he might catch the first
fish. But it did not seem possible that a fish
would bite at his hook in time. Then all of a


sudden there came a sharp, quivering pull at
his line and he instantly began hauling it in.
For a moment he thought he had lost the fish,
but again he felt the shuddering and dragging
at the line, and knew that it was hooked. He
hauled in the wet and dripping line wildly hand
over hand, and in another second had jerked
the fish into the boat, where it lay flashing and
splashing and flapping upon the boards of the
bottom. "I caught the first fish, Little Coffee!"
he shouted.
"Look dar, now!" said Little Coffee testily.
"Fish just bite at my line and you talk and
scare um away."
How could that scare a fish away ? ex-
ulted Jack as he set a fresh bait upon his hook.
"To be sure a fish can't hear, for it 's got no
ears."
Yes, fish can hear," said Little Coffee, draw-
ing in his line and making a pretense of setting
his bait to rights. Fish can hear quicker dan
a white boy."
Dennis laughed as he threw his hook over-
board.
Jack jeered derisively. "Why, that 's all
foolishness, Little Coffee," said he; and Little
Coffee, who could not think of anything more
to say, glowered at him in glum silence.
Toward evening they hoisted up the anchor,
and two of the negroes poled the hoy to the
shore. Jack was the first to jump from' the
bow of the boat to the white, sandy beach
littered with a tangle of water-grasses and
driftwood washed up by the waves. A steep
bluff bank of sand overlooked the water. Just
beyond the brow of the bluff was a rude open
shed built of boards. Jack scrambled up the
sliding, sandy bank, and stood looking around
him. For some little distance the ground was
open; beyond stood the outskirts of the virgin
forest. Jack stood and gazed about him with
thrilling delight at the newness and strangeness
of everything.
The negroes built a fire in front of the shed,
and by and by one of them came up from the
shore with some fish which he had scaled and
cleaned in the water below. They cooked
them in a pan with some bacon, and Jack did
not know until a smell of frying filled his
nostrils how hungry he was. They had also


893






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


raked up some oysters from the beds, and Jack,
following the example of the others, set about
roasting some for himself in the hot coals.
Little Coffee danced about the fire with mon-
key-like antics. Dat boy yan," said he, in
his yelping voice, pointing to Jack as he spoke,
"ran away dis morning. De master '11 cum
back while he's gone. Um! Um! Won't he
catch it when he git back again!" He swung
his arm in a grotesque pantomime of thrashing
somebody, contorting his black face and hop-
ping around and around.
The negroes burst out laughing, and Dennis
looked on, as he smoked his pipe, with a sort
of grim tolerance. Jack laughed, but he felt
that his laugh was forced. "Never you mind,
Little Coffee," said he; "'t will be all right
enough with me. I 'm not afraid, and of that
you may be sure."
You be 'fraid enough in de back room when
de master he got hold your collar, and ridin'-
whip in hees hand," yelped Little Coffee, and
once more he began thrashing the air, harder
than before, and hopping around. Ow Ow!
Ow!" he howled in mimic agony.
"I tell you what 't is, Little Coffee," said
Jack; you make a fool of yourself acting like
that."
Little Coffee stopped suddenly in his antics
and looked glumly at Jack. "I no more of a
fool than you," said he. But Jack was satis-
fied that he had checked Little Coffee in what
he was saying.
I tell you what it is," said Dennis; "'t would
have been better if you 'd not come along in
the hoy, and that 's the truth."
"Why, I don't fear anything, Dennis," said
Jack. "The master 's going away for two
weeks, and he '11 not get back while I 'm gone."
Maybe he won't," said Dennis, "and may-
be he will."
Jack sat in silent thought for a long while.
"I tell you what it is, Dennis," said he; "if
ever the master undertakes to treat me ill, I '11
take that chance to run away."
Ho! burst out Little Coffee, incredulously.
You no run away, boy; you be 'fraid to run
away. The master he catch you running' away,
he kill you."
I would n't let him catch me," said Jack.


"What Blacky says is true," said Dennis to
Jack. "You can't run away in this part of the
country as if you were in Maryland or Penn-
sylvania. There be too many rivers and waters
to cross. There 's only one place you could
get to, and that 's down to North Caroliny.
But how could a boy like you, and a stranger
to the country, get down that far, d' ye think ?
-with swamps and woods, not to speak of
rivers and the like; a matter of a hundred mile
or more, I reckon."
But I would n't try to go down to North
Carolina," said Jack. "What I 'd do would be
to take a ship back to England again."
Why, how could you do that ?" said Den-
nis. Where could you get money enough to
pay for a passage to England?"
"I would n't need money," said Jack. I 'd
work my way across."
"D' ye think so?" said Dennis. "Well,
then, but you would n't. Why, there ain't one
ship-master out of twenty if they laid hands on
you but what 'd sell ye over again in the first
port he 'd come to."
He would n't sell me," said Jack, "if I
could offer him more money than he could get
for selling me. And I could do that, for I 've
got a fortune of my own at home- six thou-
sand pounds."
Dennis did not choose to argue the question
further, but sat smoking in silence.
They sailed home the next day. As they came
nearer and nearer to the end of the trip, the
heavy oppression that had brooded over Jack
at first began to settle upon him again; and
when the roof and chimneys of the Roost came
in sight around the bend of the river, the
weight of his apprehension made him almost
physically sick. As he walked slowly up toward
the house, it seemed to him that his feet were
as heavy as lead. What if his master should
have come back? Mrs. Pitcher stood at the
glass putting on her cap.
"Has his honor come back?" asked Jack,
anxiously.
Mrs. Pitcher looked at him out of the glass.
"Well, no," said she, he has n't, and 't is a
mightily good thing for you. Sometime or
other you '11 get yourself in as pretty a mess
as ever I saw in all my life. Here I 've been


894






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


wanting you to help me about the house too.
I 've a great mind to tell him about you when
he comes back."
"Would you, then, do such a thing as that,
Mrs. Pitcher ?" said Jack.
"I 've a mind to." She was looking nar-
rowly at her chin in the glass. "What did you
do with his honor's court-plaster?" said she.
"I want a patch for this pimple on my-chin."
"I don't know where the court-plaster is,"
said Jack sullenly.
It was nearly two weeks before the Roost
saw Mr. Parker again. He was in a singularly
absent, silent mood.
"Here," said he, "take my coat and shoes,
and then fetch me my dressing-gown and my
slippers."
"Yes, your honor," said Jack, briskly; and
he hurried away, almost running, bringing the
dressing-gown, and holding it while Mr. Parker
thrust his arms into the sleeves.
"You may go now," said Mr. Parker, after
Jack had unbuckled his shoes and he slipped
them off. Wait tell Mrs. Pitcher to send
me up a pipe of tobacco."
"Yes, your honor," said Jack. He won-
dered with some apprehension if Mrs. Pitcher
would really tell of his going away fishing; but
the day passed and nothing was said, and he
concluded that all was gone by.
The next afternoon, however, Mr. Parker
suddenly said: "Is this true that Mrs. Pitcher
tells me that you ran away fishing ? "
The question was so sudden that Jack did
not know what to say or where to look. Mr.
Parker was looking steadily at him; he could
not return the gaze. Mr. Parker was perfectly
calm, and his calmness lent all the more weight
to what he said. I have naught to say to
you," said he; "but if I ever come home and
find you away I 'll -hear what I say I '11
flay you alive. Do you hear?"
"Yes, sir," said Jack, breathlessly. His
master gave him one more lingering look,
and then he turned away. Jack could hardly
believe his escape.
"'T was a shabby business for you to tell
upon me," said he to Mrs. Pitcher. Peggy
laughed. "Well, what did you run away for,
then ? said she.


CHAPTER XVI.

THE MASTER IN THE TOILS.

MR. PARKER had been home three days
when a stranger visited the Roost. It was
after nightfall.
Jack was reading aloud from a well-thumbed
and tattered little book called "Tarlton's
Court-witty Jests," to Mrs. Pitcher, who sat
idly listening to him. Mr. Parker was in the
room beyond, and every now and then Jack
would pause in his muttered reading, and the
two would turn and look toward the master,
to be sure that nothing was needed.
A loud, sudden knock upon the door startled
the stillness of the house. Jack pushed back
his chair, grating noisily upon the bare floor, and
hurried to open the door. A tall, brown-faced
man, with a great heavy black beard hanging
down over his breast, stood on the step. His
figure stood out dimly in the light of the candle
from the darkness of the star-lit night behind.
The brass buttons of his coat shone bright in
the dull light. "Is Mr. Richard Parker at
home, boy ? the visitor asked in a loud, hoarse
voice.
"1-I believe he is, sir," said Jack hesitat-
ingly.
Hath he any visitors ?"
"Why, no," said Jack; "I believe not to-
night."
The stranger pushed himself by Jack into
the house. "I want to see him," said he
roughly. "Where is he?"
Mrs. Pitcher had arisen, and had managed to
quietly close the door of the room in which Mr.
Parker sat. "And what might be your business
with his honor, Master ?" said she.
"Well, Mistress," said the man, that is my
affair and not yours. Where is Mr. Parker ? "
At that moment the door that Mrs. Pitcher
had closed was opened again and Mr. Parker
appeared. He wore a silk night-cap upon his
head, and carried his pipe in his hand. "'T is
you, is it, Captain ?" said he coldly. I had n't
looked to see you so far up the river as this;
but come in here."
He held the door open as the other entered
and then closed it. Sit down," said he, point-


x894.]






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


ing toward the table with the stem of his pipe,
"sit down and help yourself."
As the stranger obeyed the invitation, Mr.
Parker stood with his back to the great empty
fireplace looking with his usual calm reserve,
though perhaps a little curiously, at his visitor.
The other coolly tossed off the glass of toddy
he had mixed for himself, and then wiped his
mouth with the palm of his hand. Then thrust-
ing his hand into an inside pocket of his coat,
he brought out a big, greasy leather pocket-
book. He untied the thongs, opened it and
took from it a paper. "Here 's that note of
hand of yours, Mr. Parker," said he, "that you
gave me down at Parrott's; 't is due now some
twenty days and more, and yet I have received
nothing upon it. When may I look for you to
settle it ? "
"Let me see it," said Mr. Parker calmly,
reaching out his hand for it.
The other looked at him quizzically for a
moment, and then without a word replaced the
paper in his pocket-book, tied the thongs and
thrust the pocket-book back again into his
pocket. Why," said he, "methinks I 'd rather
not let it go out of my hands, if it 's all the
same to you."
Mr. Parker's expression of cool superiority'did
not change a shade, but he shrugged his shoul-
ders ever so slightly. Why, Mr. Captain
Pirate," said he, dryly, "methinks then you 're
mightily careful of small things and not so
careful of great things. If I were of a mind
now to do you some ill turn, what do you think
is to prevent me from opening this window and
calling my men to knock you on the head, tie
you up hand and foot, and turn you over to the
authorities ? Governor Spottiswood and my
brother would be only too glad to lay hands
on you, now you 've broken your pardon, and
fallen under the law again. What's to prevent
me from handing you over to my brother, who,
seeing that you murdered his son, would rather
than ten thousand pounds have the chance of
hanging you ?"
The other grinned. Why," said he, I 've
taken my chances of that. I dare say you


could do me an ill enough turn if you chose-
but you won't choose."
"Why, Mr. Pirate?" said Mr. Parker, look-
ing down at his visitor coldly.
"Because, Mr. Tobacco-planter, I 've made
my calculations before I came here. I know
very well how you depend upon your honora-
ble brother for your living, and that he 'd cut
you off with a farthing if he knew that you 'd
been so free and easy with me as to sit down
quietly at table with me and lose four or five
hundred pounds to me at play. You can afford
to give your note to any one but me, Mr. Spend-
thrift Parker, but you can't afford to give it to me
and then lord it over me. Come, come! Don't
try any of your airs with me," said he, with sud-
den ferocity. "Tell me when will you settle
with me in whole or part."
Mr. Parker stood for a while looking steadily
at his visitor, who showed by every motion and
shade of expression that he did not stand in
the least awe of him. "I don't know," said
Mr. Parker at last. "Suppose I never pay
you; what then?"
"Why, in that case I '11 just send the paper
to your brother for collection."
Another long space of silence followed.
"Look 'e, sirrah," said Mr. Parker at last, I '11
be plain with you. I can't settle that note just
now. I have fifty times more out against me
than I can arrange for. But if you '11 come -
let me see three days hence I '11 see what I
can do."
The other looked suspiciously and cunningly
at him for a moment or two. Come, come,
Mr. Tobacco-planter," said he, "you 're not up
to any tricks, are you ?"
"No; upon my honor."
The other burst out laughing. "Well, then,
I '11 be here three days from now," said he.
Jack and Mrs. Pitcher, as they sat in the
next room, heard nothing but the grumbling
mutter of the two voices, and now and then the
sound of the stranger's laugh. What d' ye sup-
pose he 's come for, Mrs. Pitcher ? asked Jack.
"Like enough for money," said Mrs. Pitcher
briefly.


(To be continued.)


896



















































A













O


" MR. PARKER STOOD LOOKING AT HIS VISITOR WITH HIS USUAL CALM RESERVE."










THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.
(Seventh paper of the Series, Quadrupeds of North America.")

BY W. T. HORNADAY.

PART II.


THE GRIZZLY, BARREN-GROUND, AND
CINNAMON BEARS.

PERSONALLY, I have more respect for His
Majesty, the Grizzly Bear, than for any other
animal I ever trailed, the
GRIZZLY BEAR. tiger not excepted. It is
(Ur-sus kor-ri '-il-is.)
quite true that many an
able-bodied Grizzly is caught napping and killed
"dead easy," as the base-ball language says,
but so are big tigers also, for that matter. In
fact, I knew of one large tiger weighing within
five pounds of five hundred, who was promptly
laid low by two bullets from a mere pop-gun of
a rifle, and there was no fuss about it, either.
It is easy enough to kill a Grizzly at a good
safe distance of a hundred yards or so, which
allows the hunter to fire from three to six shots
by the time the teeth and claws get dangerously
near. But to attack a fully grown and wide-
awake Ursus horribilis in brushy ground at
twenty or thirty yards' distance is no child's
play. As an old hunter once quaintly expressed
it to me, "A Grizzly Bar '11 git up an' come at
ye with blood in his eye after he 's nominally
dead!" The point of it is, this bear is so big,
and so enveloped in long, shaggy hair, his head
is so wedge-like, his strength and tenacity of
life so great, and his rage when wounded so
furious that at that short range he is hard to
kill quickly, and kill so dead that he cannot
get a blow at the hunter.
The strength in a Grizzly's arm is tremen-
dous, and when the blow comes accompanied
with claws five or six inches long, like so many
hooks of steel on a sledge-hammer, it tears to
shreds what it fails to crush. There are many
authentic instances on record of hunters and
trappers who have been killed by Grizzly
Bears, and I believe it could' be proved that


this animal has killed more men than all the
other wild animals of North America com-
bined, excepting the skunks and their rabies.
In the days of the early pioneers, the only
rifles used were the muzzle-loading, hair-trigger
squirrel-rifles of small caliber, and. they were no
match for the burly Grizzly, either in speed or
strength. As a result, Bruin had the best of
it, and in time brought about a perfect reign
of terror among the frontiersmen who tres-
passed upon his domain. For my part, I cer-
tainly would not want to attack a big Grizzly
at short range with my father's old Kentucky
rifle, of 32 caliber, unless I had my will made,
and all my earthly affairs in shape to be left
for a long period. But with the rise of the
breech-loader the tables turned; and, like all
other dangerous animals, the Grizzly soon
found that the odds were against him. To be
sure, he still kills his hunter now and then,
sometimes by one awful stroke of his paw, and
sometimes by biting his victim to death. But
he has almost ceased to attack men wilfully
and without cause, as he once did. Unless he
is wounded or cornered, or thinks he is cor-
nered and about to be attacked, he will gen-
erally run whenever he discovers a man. But
when he is attacked, and especially if wounded,
he gets mad clean through. Then he will
fight anything, even a circular saw, so it is
said, and give it five turns the start.
While it is quite unnecessary to offer a de-
scription in detail of this well-known species,
something must be said regarding his colors.
His coat changes so easily it would seem as if
he really cannot make up his own mind what
it shall be at last. I have examined scores of
skins from many places with a view to finding
out what his geographical home has to do
with it; but no sooner do I think I have found
98






THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.


the limits of a special color, than a specimen
turns up which completely upsets all my theo-
ries. It really does seem, however, that usually
the coat of the Californian Grizzly is brown,
and those of Rocky Mountain specimens are
usually gray or dirty white. Hence the name
" Silver-tip" is in use for this variety.


is almost white in color, that among hunters he
is distinguished as the Rocky Mountain White
Bear, that he seldom, if ever, reaches one
thousand pounds in weight, and is more fero-
cious and aggressive than the same species in
other regions. The Californian Grizzly weighs
as much as two thousand pounds, and he is


A FAMILY OF GRIZZLY BEARS.


There has always been much talk and dis-
pute among unscientific observers regarding the
color differences between Grizzly Bears of dif-
ferent regions. Any old hunter or trapper will
assert with his last breath that there are at least
two well-marked varieties, and some will even
say four. Naturalists recognize only one species,
but cheerfully admit the color differences from
the type. On this point the opinions of an old
hunter, who was in his day a renowned Grizzly
Bear specialist, are of decided value to us.
James Capen Adams, known to the world as
" Grizzly Adams," after spending many years in
many places in the society of Grizzly Bears,
asserts that the Grizzly of the Rocky Mountains


of a brown color, sprinkled with grayish hairs.
When aroused he is the most terrible of all
animals to meet; and feats of extraordinary
strength are recorded of him. Ordinarily he
will not attack man. The Grizzly of Oregon
and Washington rarely grows to the great size
of the Californian animal, but it has a browner
coat. In New Mexico the Grizzly loses much
of his strength and power, and becomes, for
him, a rather timid and spiritless animal.
This, at least, is quite clear: that in the mat-
ter of color there are two well-marked types,
which, taken without the puzzling shades be-
tween, are sharply defined. One is the brown
coat, which has very dark, brownish-black


899





THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.


ADAMS AND BEN FRANKLIN. (SEE PAGE 902.)
under-fur, the outer one-fifth of each hair being
yellowish brown, the next two-fifths brownish
black, and the rest chestnut brown. The coat
is darkest on the shoulders.
In sharp contrast with this is the coat of the
Silver-tip Grizzly, with no black in the hair save
on the lower joints of the legs. The outer third
of each body-hair is yellowish white, and the
remainder is very light brown. On the shoul-
ders the under-fur shades quickly into dark
brown, in the form of a cross. Very often the
outer and main color of a Silver-tip Grizzly is
so very light that the general appearance of
the animal is really a shiny, yellowish white.
Nature has been very kind to the Grizzly in
regard to both the quantity and the quality
of his hair. A specimen that now lies before
me has thick hair, three and one-half inches
in length; and, while the outer third of it is
stiff and straight, in order to shed rain and
sleet, the two-thirds nearest the body is fine,
soft, and woolly, for the express purpose of
keeping "Old Ephraim" warm and comfortable
in, say, a temperature of forty degrees below


zero. Does any one think for a moment that
such careful provision for a wild animal's needs
came about by mere chance, or by the efforts
of the animal himself to grow such curious hair?
I do not, at all events.
In former times, the Grizzly Bear inhabited
nearly every range of mountains in the West
and Northwest, and was the reigning monarch
throughout a vast region well stocked with big
game. He was bold, aggressive, and in places
uncomfortably numerous. He not only pos-
sessed the mountains, but in many places, no-
tably in Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, he
often left the shelter of the foot-hills and boldly
sallied forth upon the open prairie to dig roots
or pick berries for his dinner.
General Marcy had several very novel and
also very exciting experiences in chasing Griz-
zlies on horseback in Wyoming. Once he pur-
sued a bear, and, by skilful strategy, actually
drove it to his advancing column of soldiers,
one of whom rode out and shot it. On an-
other occasion he chased a lean Grizzly for
several miles, and it was all he could do to
keep up with it on a swift horse. The gen-
eral declared that a man could not have run
half as fast as did that'bear.
Although the Grizzly has been entirely ex-
terminated in many localities, and his numbers
greatly reduced everywhere else, he still holds


DIAGRAM SHOWING DIMENSIONS OF THE SKIN OF A CALI-
FORNIA GRIZZLY. (SEE PAGE 903.)
forth in the wilder mountain regions of Mon-
tana, Wyoming, Idaho, Colorado, California,
Oregon, and Nevada. Beyond the United


900oo




1894.] THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA. 901

.States he is found in increasing numbers tracks, and joined those of my bear. They
northward throughout the British possessions, were not nearly so large as the first set, but for
and all over Alaska up to about 690 north all that it would have been fairer to me if the
latitude. In Alaska the Grizzly attains great two assistant Grizzlies had stayed away. As
size, and some measurements of skins have the brush grew denser the perspiration came
been recorded that are
beyond belief. Mr. L. .
M. Turner, Smithson-
ian collector, mentions -b-
a skin taken near the
mouth of the Yukon as O
being the largest skin-
of a wild beast that he
ever saw. ca -e -tw oi
The Grizzly is not
going to be extermin-
ated in a hurry. In
i886 we found his fresh
tracks quite plentiful as
far east as the lower
Musselshell River ,
(longitude io80 west),
and also saw the fresh-
ly picked bones of
three beef-steers that "
Ephraim had killed
and eaten.
And it was right
there, also, that for the
first time in my life I
left a trail because I n
was afraid to follow it
farther. While hunt-
ing elk all alone in
ground that was loose
and perfectly bare, .
save for a clumpy
growth of stunted -e
cedar and juniper, I -
saw the fresh tracks '
of a huge Grizzly. "',
The clean-cut print of -'
his hind foot meas- THE BARREN-GROUND BEAR. (SEE PAGE 903.)
ured exactly 9 by 5'2
inches (a quarter of an inch shorter than ST. out upon me more plentifully, and if my partner
NICHOLAS, and two-thirds the width). I said had only been with me, I would willingly have
to myself, Here, at last, is my long-lost shared with .him the prospective glory of bag-
Grizzly and I joyously hied me along his going three Grizzlies in one day. But I was
trail. obliged to take my chances by myself.
Presently up came two more sets of Grizzly I skulked silently along the trail for an hour,






THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.


peering, listening, sniffing the air (my friend
Huffman assures me from experience it is
sometimes possible to smell a Grizzly in brushy
ground before seeing him), hunting for those
bears, but actually afraid of finding them.
Finally the trail jumped down into the head
of a deep and dark ravine that was steep-sided
and choked with brush, a perfect man-trap, in
fact. And right there I drew the line, and
quit the trail, for that day. The next morning
my partner and I took it up at that point,
followed it through that ravine and for miles
beyond, until it struck some hard ground cov-
ered with pine-needles and was lost.
In size the Grizzly Bear is second only to
the polar bear. When three days old his total
length is about 9% inches, his weight i pound
2 ounces, and his body, says Mr. Charles
Dury, is of a dusky flesh tint, thickly covered
with short, stiff hair of a dirty white color, with
a broad line of ash-colored hair along the back.
The nose, ears, and soles of the feet are of a
bright pink color, and the eyes are tightly
closed. The cubs are usually two in number,
but often three, and are born in January. At
six months old the cub is every inch a Grizzly
Bear, and makes a most frolicsome, interesting,
and usually good-natured pet. We had one in
our Smithsonian "Zoo to which I was sin-
cerely attached. A cinnamon cub of the same
age, and on which I had lavished no end of
kind attentions, was always nervous, suspicious,
and eager to snap any one who came within
reach. But the Silver-tip was different. He
was playful, fond of attention, and docile; and
long after he was big enough to have killed a
man with one blow of his paw, Keeper Weeden
used to creep into his cage to fix his bath-tub
without receiving the slightest intimation of
displeasure.
Children of an older generation will sure-
ly remember Grizzly Adams" and his big
shaggy pets from the Sierra Nevadas, "Lady
Washington" and "Ben Franklin." As a
side-light on the temper and intelligence of
the Grizzly Bear, the following from the pen
of the old hunter is interesting:
Lady Washington was now a constant companion of
all my little excursions. She accompanied me to the
scenes of my labors [building log traps to catch more


Grizzlies], "stayed by me while I worked, and followed
me when I hunted. The kind and gentle disposition
she had begun to exhibit in Washington Territory im-
proved with time and care, and she was now as faithful
and devoted, I was going to say, as it was possible for
any animal to be; but, in making this assertion, my no-
ble Californian Grizzly, Ben Franklin, that most excel-
lent of all beasts, must be excepted. But for Ben, the
history of whose magnanimous traits will adorn the fol-
lowing pages, the lady could truly be pronounced second
to none of all the creatures over which the Creator ap-
pointed man to be the lord and master.

Lady Washington was so docile and good-
natured that she submitted, "with willingness,
and even docility," to being used as a pack
animal, in carrying dead game, blankets, or
other camp equipage up to a weight of two
hundred pounds. She was also taught to
work in harness and pull, through the snow,
a sled -loaded with deer-meat. More than
once Adams was so pinched by cold he was
glad to sleep against the Grizzly's warm body.
The weight of the Grizzly Bear is chiefly a
matter of estimate and guesswork. Platform-
scales are not plentiful in the mountains where
Grizzlies grow big, and nearly all the weight-
figures thus far recorded are so suspiciously
"round as to suggest more calculation than
cold steelyards. Still, I have very great re-
spect for the estimates of men accustomed to
mountaineering, for they are taught by hard
experience how much weight there is in every
hundred pounds. Mr. Theodore Roosevelt
estimated the weight of his largest Grizzly,
killed in the Big Horn Mountains, Wyoming,
at about 1200 pounds, and declares "he was
a good deal heavier than any of our horses,"
and fat as a prize hog." Colonel Picket, of
Meteetse, Wyoming, has killed many Grizzlies,
and Mr. Archibald Rogers states, in Scribner's
Magazine, that his largest bear weighed 800
pounds. A good-sized Grizzly killed in the
Yellowstone Park in 1890 weighed 600 pounds,
but Mr. Rogers expresses the opinion that the
average weight of most specimens that one will
get in the Rocky Mountains will be under 500
pounds. But this I believe is due to the fact
that in these days of much hunting, a Grizzly
is not allowed to live long enough to get enor-
mously large, as formerly he might do.
I once saw in the possession of Mr. F. S.






THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.


Webster the skin of a Californian Grizzly that
was a wonder to behold. I made an outline
of it, measured it, and put the dimensions upon
it, as shown in the diagram on page 900.
This skin was afterward made into a floor
rug, and sold for six hundred dollars to a well-
known gentleman living in New York.
The habits of the Grizzly are very similar to
those of the black bear,
already described, but,
being more powerful,
he is more destructive .
to game and cattle than
the latter species. Inthe
cattle-growing States
bordering the Rocky
Mountains, so many
cattle are killed by Griz-
zlies that the States pay
a bounty of from twelve
to fifteen dollars on
every Grizzly Bear de-
stroyed. The Grizzly
eats carrion whenever
opportunity offers it,
and often robs the elk-
hunter of his hard-earn-
ed quarry. He is fond
of berries of all kinds,
nuts, fruit, grubs, and
juicy roots of many
kinds. In some re-
spects he feeds like a .' *
hog, rooting and dig- ,
going up the ground, ."' '
tearing open rotten logs
and stumps, and over- :-'i
turning stones. THE
Mr. A. J. Purcell,
who has been in at the death of nearly forty
bears in California, informs me that Grizzlies
have been killed on the sea-shore, near the
mouth of the Klamath River, in that State,
while feeding on dead whales. In Mendocino
County the first thing the bears eat in the
spring, after they leave their dens, are wild
clover and wild-pea vines. At that time the
soles of their feet are soft and tender, and
their claws are long and sharp from disuse.
The hunters of that region distinguish five


(alleged) species and varieties of bears in
California, as follows: Grizzly, black, brown,
cinnamon, and chemecial," the last so named
from a kind of brush that grows thickly there,
and is the favorite haunt of a bear which hunt-
ers imagine is different from the rest. Mr. Pur-
cell has this to say regarding the size of the
Californian Grizzly:


b.r


CINNAMON BEAR. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


The largest bear ever killed in California was one
killed in Mendocino County, known as old Reel-foot,
who was said to have weighed 2250 pounds.
Many a hunter owes his life to the fact that
the Grizzly Bear cannot climb trees.
THE BARREN-GROUND is the least known of all
BEAR our American bears, and
(Ursus Ricl-ard-so 'i) its proper description
and life history cannot be written by me. All
that we know about it is, that in the far North-
west, in the bleak and inhospitable Barren


903







THE BEARS OF NORTH AMERICA.


Grounds of Alaska and the Northwest Territory,
as far north as 69, there lives a bear which in
form and size very closely resembles the silver-
tip grizzly, but is so very light-colored that the
name "Yellow Bear" would be suitable to it.
Says Mr. E. W. Nelson, the Alaskan explorer:

The half-dozen skins which came under my notice
were all very heavily furred, and of a dingy yellowish,
in some cases approaching awhitish. The fur was dense
and matted in all, and very much heavier than on the
other bears taken at the same time and place. The skins
were not large, appearing to average about the size of a
well-grown black bear.

They all came from the upper Yukon River,
above the mouth of the Tanana River.
Whether the Barren-Ground Bear is really a
different species from the grizzly of the Rocky
Mountains remains to be seen; but I doubt it
very much indeed.
CINNAMON BEAR. Last of all we come to the
CINNAMON BEAR.
(r'sus A-mer-caus CINNAMON BEAR, also called
(Ursus A-mer-i-can'us
ci,-na.,,o',mum.) in Alaska the RED BEAR.
This animal enjoys the distinction of being the
only creature in North America about which
nothing can be said as to his place in nature
without fear of contradiction. The great Au-
dubon, and his co-laborer, Bachman, classified
it as a subspecies of the black bear; but Pro-
fessor Baird declined to accord it even that
small honor. Our later authorities on quadru-
peds mostly follow Professor Baird in refusing
to accept it as a distinct subspecies, and this
affords a good illustration of the queer ways
of the really scientific workers. A Cinnamon
Bear that can be distinguished nearly a quarter
of a mile distant by his color is not considered
a distinct form, because his skull happens to be
like that of the black bear; but scores of other
mammals, whose sole difference is found in the
shape of one jaw-tooth, or one small bone, are
ranked as distinct species, although no man liv-
ing can detect any external differences, even
with a microscope.
To me, therefore, the Cinnamon Bear is now
and always will be a distinct and clearly de-
fined subspecies, standing as a mysterious con-
necting-link and a sort of living conundrum


between the black bear and the grizzly. His
home is where both the other species are found,
and he is not found elsewhere, nor with either
species alone. In the United States he most
nearly resembles the black bear, and in several
instances a black and a Cinnamon have been
found in the same family of cubs! In Alaska
the Cinnamon comes nearest to the grizzly,
both in size and color variations. The texture
and quantity of his hair is always more like
the coat of the grizzly, but his skull is al-
ways more like that of the black bear. His
color is chestnut- or cinnamon-brown, but
sometimes dirty yellow. In temper he is worse
than either of the other species, being more ir-
ritable, vicious, and revengeful. Sometimes he
can climb trees, and then again he cannot. In
the United States his size corresponds closely
to that of the black bear, but in Alaska it
approaches nearest to the grizzly.
Regarding the Cinnamon Bear of Alaska,
and its close resemblance to the grizzly, Mr.
Nelson has this to say:
Wherever the Red Bear occurs in Alaska there is
found also a bear of about the same size, but colored and
marked precisely like the Silver-Tipped Grizzly" of
the Central Rocky Mountain region of the United States.
The Grizzlies and the Red Bears of the Yukon Valley
offer an interminable amount of individual variation in
color. The skins intergrade so that I have frequently
thought they formed but extremes of the same species.
The Red Bear varies from light rufus to a dark chestnut
and reddish- or cinnamon-brown. Skins of both the
Red and Grizzly Bear average very much larger than
those of the Black Bear.

Both the grizzly and Cinnamon bears hiber-
nate in winter, and sometimes do so even in
captivity. I once made the acquaintance of a
Cinnamon Bear owned by Mr. O. V. Davis, of
Mandan, Dakota, which "holed up" every
fall, in a hole he dug for himself in a lot near
the depot. In 1888 he went into his hole on
December 5, and remained, absolutely with-
out food or drink, until March 17, when he
came out in good order. Unlike most Cinna-
mon Bears, he was wonderfully good-natured
and playful, and was scarcely ever known to
get angry.


904



































BY D. O. S. LOWELL.


They were a multitude in number more
Than with ten tongues, and with ten mouths, each mouth
Made vocal with a trumpet's throat of brass
I might declare, unless the Olympian nine,
Jove's' daughters, could the chronicle themselves
Indite. Cowper's Translation of the Iliad.


Muse of whor
than the mout
"Iliad ":
Sing, 0 goddes
the opening li
O Mu-sCe sinc


THE people of ancient Greece used to say
that Zeus (Jove or Jupiter) and Mnemosyne and Vergil, a
(Memory) had nine daughters. In very old his "IEneid,"
times these daughters were worshiped as god- 0 Muse,
desses of poetry and song, under the name of In the later
Muses; later, they were spoken of as presiding ture many pe
over all literature, art, and science. They had old-time gods
an altar in the Academy at Athens; the Thes- up the custom
pians held a yearly festival in their honor, with standing. E
prizes for musicians; and at Rome two temples English poet
were dedicated to them. the beginning
The old Greek and Roman poets believed Of man's
that the Muses could enable them to write with
Sing, He;
vigor and grace, and they never began any
important poem without a prayer to some one
or more of the Nine. This prayer formed a Invoke th
part of the poem itself, and in it the author Thus it haI
gave the credit of all his thoughts to the much of the
Calliope, the muse of epic poetry.
VOL. XXI.-114. 905


a he claimed to be scarcely more
piece. Thus Homer begins his

s,* the destructive wrath of Achilles;
nes of the Odyssey" are:
to me of the man full of resources;
after a seven-line introduction to
utters an invocation beginning:
recount to me the causes, etc.
days of Greek and Roman litera-
ople began to disbelieve in the
; but the poets continued to keep
Sof invoking the Muses, notwith-
ven in modem times, the great
Milton breathes this prayer at
of his Paradise Lost":
first disobedience .

avenly Muse, .


S. I thence
ly aid to my adventurous song.
ppens that in order to understand
literature of our own times, we





THE DAUGHTERS OF ZEUS.


the winged horse Pegasus to strike it with his
S 'hoof The command was obeyed; the mountain
no longer rose heavenward, but from the hoof-
print gushed forth Hippocrene (Horse-foun-
'i tain), whose waters gave poetic inspiration to
all who drank thereof. The poor vanquished
S:maidens were then punished for their presump-
CL~ tion by being changed into magpies.
The stories which the ancients told concern-
/' ing the Muses varied a great deal. There was
'V disagreement concerning their number, their
\ names, their parents, the mountain on which
S tthey lived, the symbols by which they were
X known, and the attitudes in which they should











need to know the story of these Daughters of
Zeus.
They were born, according to Greek mythol-
ogy, in Pieria, near the summit of Mount Olym-
pus, the home of the gods. From their birth
they were wonderfully gifted in music and song, I
and often furnished entertainment at the ban-
quets of the immortals. Pierus, the king of a
neighboring country, had nine daughters who
were good singers, too,- at least in their own
opinion; so they challenged the Muses to com-
pete with them. The daughters of Zeus accepted,
and the contest took place upon Mount Helicon.
You can guess the result, for mortals may '
not strive with gods. While the challengers
sang, the heavens grew dark, as though they
had tried the earth, if it were in tune," and
heard only a sullen discord. At length the
mortal music ceased, and the celestial Nine \
began. At once the sun burst through the
murky clouds, the stars stopped in their i VTE PE
courses, and the rivers paused between their
banks; at the same time Mount Helicon, on
which the Muses often dwelt, swelled so proudly
toward the sky that Poseidon (Neptune) ordered


9o6






THE DAUGHTERS OF ZEUS.


be represented. I shall attempt to tell you,
however, only the things which were most
widely believed concerning them.
When Pope said,
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring,

he followed the story which says they lived on
Mount Olympus. When the poet Gray wrote,
in describing the Progress of Poesy,
From Helicon's harmonious springs THALIA
A thousand rills their mazy progress take,

he meant to say, that poetry began in the home
of the Muses on Mount Helicon, and spread
over the whole earth. Wordsworth says of one
man, who was a poet:
Nor did he leave
Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs
Twine on the top of Pindus;










.. and the same writer says of another poet:
Not a covert path
Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade,
That might from him be hidden.

Thus we see that four dwelling-places of the
Muses were Mounts Olympus, Helicon, Pindus,
and Parnassus. It will be well to remember
these.
A Greek writer, Lucian, says that when Herod-
Sotus, the Father of History," read his famous
work to the multitudes who had assembled to see
Ithe Olympic games his hearers were so delighted
that they at once named the nine books after
the nine Muses. Some doubt the truth of the
story, but however that may be, it is certain
that even to this very day the books of Herod-
otus are called Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpom-
S. .... ene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polymnia, Urania, and
Calliope, instead of being numbered.

LL first book, as she was said to preside over
b history; in painting or sculpture she is usually


907





THE DAUGHTERS OF ZEUS.


represented with an open roll
in her hand.
Euterpe (giver of pleasure)
was the Muse of Lyric Poetry,
or that which is expressive of
the poet's own thought or feel-
ing and is well adapted to
song. She is usually repre- -' -
sented with the double flute.
Thalia (the blooming one)
represented the merry side of TERPi
life; she was the Muse of
Comedy, or dramatic corn-
position in which mirth was
the leading feature. Her em-
blems were a comic mask, of-
ten carried in one hand, a crook or staff, and
usually a wreath of ivy encircling her head.
Melpomene (the singing one) represented the
stern and gloomy side of life; she was the
Muse of Tragedy, or dramatic composition in

I


ChOR E
yi-fe
^ **f-g ?'i^.*

1MOK&rI~~


which the leading characters usually meet death
by violence. Her symbols were a mask expres-
sive of horror or agony, a garland of vine leaves,
the club of Hercules, and buskins, actor's sandals.
The last had thick soles, in order to make the
wearer appear tall and dignified on the stage.
Terpsichore (delighting in dance) is, perhaps,
of all the Muses, most familiar to the general
reader.. She had charge of the Choral Song
and Dance. She is commonly represented as
indulging in her favorite pastime. In one hand
she carries a seven-stringed lyre, the chords of
which she strikes with a plectrum, or piece of
ivory, bone, or shell.
Erato (amorous) comes next with a nine-
stringed harp and plectrum. Sometimes she
was merry, sometimes sad,-of changeful mood,


908






THE DAUGHTERS OF ZEUS.


as lovers are; for Erato was the patron
goddess of Passionate Poetry and of Love
Music.
Polymnia (rich in song) often has no
symbol, but carries her finger to her lips, and
looks up with thoughtful gaze. She was
the Muse of Hymns and Sacred Songs.
Urania (heaven) was the Muse of Astro-
nomy. She carries a globe in one hand,
and a wand in the other.
Calliope (beautiful voice), though last in
order was first in importance.. She was
the mother of Orpheus, the wonderful
musician who traveled with the Argonauts
in Jason's Quest. Her province was Epic
Poetry, like the "Iliad" of Homer, or the
"N3Eneid" of Vergil. She is commonly


X894.]


shown with a stylus or metal pen, and tablets,
and sometimes in the act of writing.
The Muses are at times represented with
feathers upon their heads -trophies won by
them when they vanquished the Sirens in a
musical contest.
If you will remember the pictures and traits
of these Daughters of Zeus, you will never be


at a loss when in your reading you come upon
the names of any of the tuneful Nine."


909








1,OLY N IA


---~---
----





















By OLIVER HERFORD.


THE Princess' hair hath golden sheen,
And her cheek is lily-pale;
But none may look in her eyes, I ween,
And live to tell the tale.


From out the south, and eke the north,
And from the east and west,
Full many a gallant knight rides forth,
Upon the fatal quest.


For a cruel spell on the Princess lies,
And whoso will may try
His fate, and look into her eyes;
But whoso looks must die.



The miller's son is a dusty youth,
And dusty curls hath he.
Quoth he, "I '11 go myself, forsooth,
And set this Princess free."


The miller's son he
hath no spear
Nor sword nor coat
of mail,
But an honest heart
that knows not fear
Oft wins when swords
may fail.


For a cruel spell on the Princess
lies
No mortal can undo
Till one shall look into her eyes
And tell their color true.


And some do vow her eyes are green,
And some that they are black;
.And many a knight rides forth, I ween,
But never a one rides back.





THE MILLER'S QUEST.


The miller's son at the portal knocks,
At the Princess' feet he bends,
And he tosses aside his floury locks
And a floury cloud ascends.

The Princess' face in a mist of white
Is veiled as with .a veil,
And her eyes are dimmed of their deadly light,
And the miller doth not quail.


The Princess' hair hath golden sheen,
Her cheek is red, red rose,
And her eyes ?



Go ask the Prince-
I mean
The miller's son-he knows.


9II

























THE STORY OF THE LAKE.
(TEE-WAHN FOLK-STORIES.)

BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS.


WAY to the southeast of
the Manzano Mountains,
two days' journey from
the Pueblo town,Isleta,
are the shallow salt
lakes. Perhaps you

why those lakes
are salt now-for
my Indian neigh-
S" bors say that once
they were fresh and full of fish, and that the
deer and buffalo came from all the country
round to drink there. Here is the story as
it is believed by the Te-Wahn, and as it was
related to me by one of them.
Once there was still a village east of the
Eagle-Feather (Manzano) Mountains, and in it
lived a famous hunter. One day, going out on
the plains to the east, he stalked a herd of ante-
lopes, and wounded one with his arrows. It
fled eastward, while the herd went south; and
the hunter began to trail it. Soon he came
to the largest lake, into which the trail led.
As he stood on the bank, wondering what to
do, a fish thrust its head. from the water and
said:
"Friend Hunter, you are on dangerous
ground! and off it went swimming. Before


the Hunter could recover from his surprise, a
Lake-Man came up out of the water and said:
How is it that you are here, where no hu-
man ever came ?"
The Hunter told his story, and the Lake-Man
invited him to come in. When he had entered
the lake, he came to a house with doors to the
east, north, south, and west, and a trap-door in
the roof, with a ladder; and-by the ladder door
they entered. In their talk together the Lake-
Man learned that the Hunter had a wife and
little son at home.
"If that is so," said he, "why do you not
come and live with me? I am here alone, and
have plenty of other food, but I am no hunter.
We could live very well here together." And
opening doors on four sides of the room, he
showed the Hunter four other huge rooms, all
piled from floor to ceiling with corn and wheat
and dried squash and the like.
"That is a very good offer," said the aston-
ished Hunter. I will come again in four days;
and if my Cacique will let me, I will bring my
family and stay."
So the Hunter went home, killing an antelope
on the way, and told his wife all. She thought
very well of the offer; and he went to ask
permission of the Cacique. The Cacique de-
murred, for this was the best hunter in all the





THE STORY OF THE LAKE.


pueblos (and all hunters give the Cacique a part
of their game for his support); but at last he
consented and gave the Hunter his blessing.
So on the fourth day the Hunter and his wife
and little boy came to the lake with all their
property. The Lake-Man met them cordially,
and gave the house and all its contents into the
charge of the woman (as is the custom among
all Pueblo Indians).
Some time passed very pleasantly, the Hunter
going out daily and bringing back great quan-
tities of game. At last the Lake-Man, who was
of an evil heart, pretended to show the Hunter
something in the East room; and pushing him
in, locked the great door and left him there
to starve-for the room was full of the bones
of men whom he had already entrapped in
the same way.
The boy was now big enough to use his bow
and arrows so well that he brought home many
rabbits; and the witch-hearted Lake-Man be-
gan to plot to get him too out of the way.
So one morning when the boy was about to
start for a hunt, he heard his mother groaning as
if about to die; and the Lake-Man said to him:
"My boy, your mother has a terrible pain,
and the only thing that will cure her is some
ice from T'hoor-p'ah-whee-ai [Lake of the
Sun], the lake from which the sun rises."
"Then," said the boy, straightway, "if that
is so, I will take the heart of a man [that is, be
brave], and go and get the ice for my little
mother." And away he started toward the
unknown east.
Far out over the endless brown plains he
trudged bravely, until at last he came to the
house. of Shee-choo-hlee-oh-oo, the Old-Wo-
man-Mole, who was there all alone-for her
husband had gone to hunt. They were dread-
fully poor, and the house was almost falling
down, and the poor, wrinkled Old-Woman-
Mole sat huddled in the corner by the fire-
place, trying to keep warm by a few dying
coals. But when the boy knocked, she rose
and welcomed him kindly and gave him all
there was in the house to eat-a wee bowl of
soup with a patched-up snowbird in it. The
boy was very hungry, and picking up the snow-
bird bit a big piece out of it.
"Oh, my child !" cried the old woman, be-
VOL. XXI.-15.


ginning to weep. You have ruined me! For
my husband trapped that bird these many
years ago, but we could never get another;
and that is all we have had to eat ever since.
So we never bit it, but cooked it over and
over and drank the broth. And now not even
that is left "-and she wept bitterly.
"Nay, Grandmother Mole, do not worry,"
said the boy. "Have you any long hair ? "
for he saw many snowbirds lighting near by.
No, my child," said the old woman sadly.
"There is no other living animal here, and you
are the first human that ever came here."
But the boy pulled out some of his own long
hair and made snares, and soon caught many
birds. Then the Old-Woman-Mole was full of
joy; and having learned his errand, she said:
My son, fear not, for I will be the one that
shall help you. When you come into the house
of the Trues, they will tempt you with a seat;
but you must sit down only on what you have,
your blanket and moccasins. Then they will
try you with many tests of your courage; but
I will help you to bear them."
Then she gave him her blessing, and the boy
started away to the east. At last, after a weary,
weary way, he came so near the Sun Lake that
the guard of the Medicine House of the Trues
saw him coming, and went in to report.
"Let him be brought in," said the Trues;
and the guard took the boy in and in through
eight rooms, until he stood in the presence of
all the gods, in a vast room. There were all
the gods of the East, whose color is white,
and the blue gods of the North, the yellow
gods of the West, the red gods of the South,
all in human shape. Beyond their seats were
all the sacred animals-the buffalo, the bear,
the eagle, the badger, the mountain-lion, the
rattlesnake, and all the others.
Then the Trues bade the boy sit down, and
offered him a white manta (robe) for a seat;
but he declined respectfully, saying that he had
been taught, when in the presence of his elders,
to sit on nothing save what he brought, and he
sat upon his blanket and moccasins. When he
had told his story, the Trues, to try him, put
him into the room of the East with the bear
and the lion; and the savage animals came
forward and breathed on lim, but would not


913






THE STORY OF THE LAKE.


hurt him. Then they put him into the room
of the North, with the eagle and the hawk;
then into the room of the West, with the
snakes; and lastly, into the room of the South,
where were the Apaches and all the other


THE HUNTER AND THE LAKE-MAN. (SEE PAGE 912.)


human enemies of his people. And from each
room he came forth unscratched.
Surely," said the Trues, "this is our son!
But once more we will try him."
They had a great pile of logs built up (" cob-
house" fashion), and the space between filled
with pine-knots. Then the guard of the Trues


."
,
~
_*~e~


set the boy on the top of the pile and set' fire
to the pine-knots.
But in the morning, when the guard went
out, there was the boy unharmed and saying:
"Tell the Trues that I am cold, and that I
would like more fire."
Then he was brought again
S"before the Trues, who said:
1" Son, you have proved your-
self a true believer, and now
you shall have what you seek."
So the sacred ice was given
Shim, and he started homeward
-stopping on the way only to
thank the Old-Woman-Mole,
to whose aid he owed all his
success.
When the wicked Lake-Man
saw the boy coming, he was
S very angry, for he had never
expected him to return from
that dangerous mission. But
he deceived the boy and the wo-
man; and in a few days made
a similar excuse to send the boy
to the gods of the South after
more ice for his mother.
The boy started off as brave-
ly as before. When he had
traveled a great way to the
south, he came to a drying
lake; and there, dying in the
mud, was a little fish.
"Ah-boo [poor thing], little
S fish," said the boy; and pick-
Sing it up, he put it in his gourd
canteen of water. After a while
he came to a good lake; and as
he sat down to eat his lunch the
fish in his gourd said:
"Friend Boy, let me swim
while you eat, for I love the
water."
So he put the fish in the lake; and when he
was ready to go on, the fish came to him, and
he put it back in his gourd. At three lakes
he let the fish swim while he ate; and each
time the fish came back to him. But beyond
the third lake began a great forest which
stretched clear across the world, and was so





THE STORY OF THE LAKE.


thick with thorns and brush that no man could
pass it. But as the boy was wondering what
he should do, the tiny fish changed itself into a
great fish-animal, with a skin as hard as rock;
and bidding the boy mount upon its back, it
went plowing through the forest, breaking
down big trees like stubble, and bringing him
through to the other side without a scratch.
Now, Friend Boy," said the fish-animal,
"you saved my life, and I will be the one that
shall help you. When you come to the house
of the Trues, they will try you as they did in
the East. And when you have proved your-
self, the Cacique will bring you his three daugh-
ters, from whom to choose you a wife. The
two oldest are very beautiful, and the youngest
is not; but you ought to choose her, for beauty
does not always reach to the heart."
The boy thanked his fish-friend and went on,
until at last he came to the house of the Trues
of the South. There they tried him with many
tests of his courage, just as the Trues of the
East had done, but he proved himself a man,
and they gave him the ice. Then the Cacique
brought his three daughters, and said:
Son, you are now old enough to have a wife
[for it must be remembered that all these travels
had taken many years], and I see that you are
a true man who will do all for his mother.
Choose, therefore, one of my daughters."
The boy looked at the three girls; and truly
the oldest were very lovely. But he remem-
bered the words of his fish-friend and said:
"Let the youngest be my wife."
Then the Cacique was pleased, for he loved
this daughter more than both the others. And
the boy and the Cacique's daughter were mar-
ried and started homeward, carrying the ice
and many presents.
When they came to the great forest, there
was the fish-animal waiting for them, and tak-
ing both on his back he carried them safely
through. At the first lake he bade them good-
by and blessed them, and they trudged on alone.
At last they came in sight of the big lake,
and over it were great clouds, with the forked
lightning leaping forth. While they were yet
far off, they could see the wicked Lake-Man
sitting at the top of his ladder, watching to see
if the boy would return, and even while they


looked they saw the lightning of the Trues
strike him and tear him to shreds.
When they came to the lake the boy found
his mother weeping for him as dead. And
taking his wife and his mother,-but none of


i8 a


'- q,. %
SJ.



"THE BOY FOUND HIS MOTHER WEEPING FOR HIM."
the things of the Lake-Man, for those were
bewitched,- the boy came out upon the shore.
There he stood and prayed to the Trues that
the lake might be accursed forever; and they
heard his prayer, for from that day its waters
turned salt, and no living thing has drunk
therefrom.


915











GLIMPSES OF CENTRAL PARK ANIMALS.

BY GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH.


THOUSANDS of people weekly visit the mena-
gerie in Central Park to look at the wild animals
confined in the numerous iron cages, fences,
and wooden houses. The characteristics of
many of these animals are such as to interest
visitors in them, and the history of their ac-
complishments is related by the keepers with
great enthusiasm. One of the most intelligent
animals that was ever in the menagerie was
"Crowley," the chimpanzee, and he was a
great favorite with the public, even small boys
and girls who did not know what a zoo was
being familiar with his name. The poor fellow
died a few years after leaving his home in Li-
beria, but not until after he had learned to eat
with a knife and fork, use a napkin, bow to
people, and show numerous other signs of civili-
zation. A great rivalry was felt between
Crowley and his cousin in the London Zoo;
and but for the former's untimely death, he
would have shown higher qualities of intelli-
gence than the London chimpanzee. It is
reported now, however, that the latter is far
in advance of what Crowley was at his death,
one of his greatest accomplishments being to
count from one to fifteen, and when asked to
pick up a certain number of stones within this
limit he does it readily.
The most dangerous and ferocious animal in
the Central Park Zoo was Tip," the large ele-
phant who was put to death in May of this
year. He is said to have killed eight keepers
and wounded several others. This man-killing
elephant was the least intelligent of the three
kept at the menagerie; or, at least, his disposi-
tion was such that he refused to exhibit his
intelligence. While the other elephants would
ring a bell, wave a fan, stand on their hind
legs, and do other queer tricks, Tip gloomily
refused to do anything of the sort. Once or
twice he broke the huge chain that encircled
his body, and made a mad dash at his keeper.


He was quiet and morose most of the time, but
there was no trusting his mood. He was
treacherous and dangerous; this fact alone
iade him quite a curiosity.
The monkeys probably give the most real
amusement to the visitors, and they represent
all ages, sizes, and dispositions. Occasionally
one escapes from the cage, and the pursuit that
follows is joined in by hundreds of visitors who
happen to be in the park. A capturing-bag is
used to corner the little fellows when out of the
cage, and this is thrown over their heads and
the mouth securely tied. Quite a number of
escapes from the cages have occurred at differ-
ent times, and the excitement that has prevailed
in the park for a few hours has been very
intense. When some of the larger animals
escape, the visitors are not so ready to join
in the chase. Most of them get away from the
scene as quickly as possible; but, no matter
how ferocious the escaped animal is, the keepers
fearlessly join in the pursuit until the creature
is-captured.
Not a great while ago a huge python snake
escaped from his cage, and crawled away into
some obscure place in the park. As soon as
the discovery was made a general alarm was
given, and every visitor deserted the vicinity of
the menagerie, while the keepers started out in
search for the monster. For six months no-
thing was heard or seen of the snake, although
floors were torn up, and every nook in the park
was examined. The python had eaten a hearty
meal before his escape, but at the end of the
six months hunger forced him from his hiding-
place, and he was discovered one day by the
watchman. The brave man threw his coat over
the snake's head, and clung to his neck until
help came in reply to his loud shouts. The
huge reptile had crawled to the roof of the
snake-house, and right under this he had found
a snug hiding-place for six months.









SiJ & '*an tfr t sL i re



a r




1 '"


11


*4


















IW


A I.r Il.., l I






GLIMPSES OF CENTRAL PARK ANIMALS.


Four or five years ago a large alligator es-
caped from its pen, and was discovered by a
park policeman after it had made a vicious
snap at his legs. The animal was "bagged"
by the keepers only after a desperate struggle.
One of the large sun-bears pried the bars
of his cage apart one night, and crawled
through the opening thus made. A neighbor-
ing cherry-tree attracted his attention, and he
spent the early morning in stuffing himself with
the delicious ,fruit. When found, the brute
was so gorged with food that the keepers had
very little difficulty in capturing him.
Many other lesser escapes from the cages
have happened, and incidents in the menagerie
similar to these occur very often.
A fierce fight recently occurred between a
fine Kerry bull and an Indian bull. The two
were tied to separate stakes, and before the
fight they had been bellowing loudly for several
hours. Finally the Kerry bull managed to
break his rope, and, making a dash at his enemy,
knocked him over. While he was rolling in the
dirt the savage animal gored the Indian bull in


such a way that his life was despaired of for
several days.
Once or twice the tigers have broken through
their cages into those occupied by the lions,
and a short, fierce battle occurred.
The flesh-eaters are not so fierce in the cages
as they are in wild life, and after they have
been confined for a few months they grow quite
contented and docile. They are fed only once
a day, and one day out of each week they are
deprived of all food. This does not prove any
great trial to them, as in the wild state they
often go without anything to eat for several
days, and it improves their health and wards
off possible sickness. They are fed with meat
at each meal, and just before the time for feed-
ing they begin to get restless and savage,
.walking arid roaring about their cages with
impatience. Sunday is the day when they are
not fed. In their own cages they frequently
show their savage natures, and sometimes en-
gage in quarrels that would result fatally if they
were not speedily separated, or prodded with
the keeper's iron hook.


A PLUCKY CONNECTICUT GIRL.

BY LAURA B. HALL.


EVERYONE. knows that during the Civil War
men were drafted for the army, both North and
South; but all' may not know that in the Revo-
lutionary War, at least in some parts of the
country, horses were drafted as well as men.
Think what his horse was to the isolated
New England farmer of those early days! No
steamcars or steamboats then carried him or
anybody--anywhere; even the lumbering old
stage-coach had not yet arrived; no daily mail
brought him the news from the uttermost parts
of the earth. The farther's horse furnished his
only means of communication with the outer
parts of his limited world. On this useful ani-
mal did he jog along to church on Sunday,
with his good wife on the pillion behind him;


on week-days the same broad back carried to
mill the corn laboriously raised on his rocky
acres, to be ground into the meal that made so
large a proportion of the family fare. And how
was the country store, with its calico and mo-
lasses, its codfish and good-natured gossip, to
be reached without this trusty helper ?
Somewhere in the State of Connecticut we
should not like to tell this tale of meanness if
the name of the grand old State did not bring
to mind Putnam and Hale and many another
brave and worthy son-lived a man whose
horse the government had drafted. This man
made up his mean and selfish mind that not his
own, but the horse of a poor widow who lived
not far away, should be the one to go to the


918





A PLUCKY CONNECTICUT GIRL.


war. So over he went to where the unprotected
woman was trying to keep a home for her six
fatherless children, and informed her that her
horse had been drawn for the army, and that
he had been directed to come at a certain hour
early next morning, to take it to the place ap-
pointed for the gathering of the drafted horses.
Imagine the consternation of the mother and
the lamentations of the children over this dread-
ful news


(as it says in the robber stories), and into its
gloomy depths she guided her precious horse.
There she stayed all through the long, lonely
night. It was not until long after sunrise, when
she knew the danger was over, that the deter-
mined girl returned to her home.
What must have been the clamorous joy
of those children of a hundred years ago, and
the relief of the anxious mother, when the old
horse clattered soberly into his stable, and his


MABEL SAVES THE FAMILY HORSE.


But twelve-year-old Mabel, who had listened
in silence, kept her own counsel; and when bed-
time came she went up to her little room as
usual. But she quietly waited till all the house-
hold were asleep, and then she gently opened
her window, crept down the roof of the shed
below it, and noiselessly slid to the ground.
She went to the barn, led out the horse, put
herself without any saddle upon his faithful
back, and away she rode, her familiar voice
softly urging the animal to his utmost speed.
We do not know whether the night was light
or dark; but we do know that the dauntless child
went on and on till she came to a thick wood "


courageous young rider went into the house for
her breakfast, like any other hungry little girl!
The crafty neighbor was probably not so
jubilant, for after all his scheming he had been
forced to furnish his own horse to the govern-
ment, since the intended substitute was no-
where to be found.
Mabel lived to see the war ended, and our
beloved Stars and Stripes floating over a free
and peaceful land; and it was a descendant of
her family, a lady who wears a crown of silver
hair, but whose heart is still brave and young,
who told the writer this true story of the plucky
girl whom she called Aunt Mabel."
































THE TIDES.


IN THE FIELDS.

SIN summer-time I often go
.. Out to the fields where daisies grow
And, kneeling on the grassy ground,
SI pick the flowers all around.

."... ~ And just before I leave the field
I find a buttercup concealed
Down in the grass. And then I stay
To pluck its petals while I say:


One for fingers, two for thumbs,
Three for cherries, four for plums,
And five for bread and butter nice;
I '11 just go home and get a slice."



i



...- Iy"


As once I played beside the sea,
Its waters gently came to me,
To bring me seaweed, stones, and shells,
And wash the sand where I dig wells.


But when I went another day,
The waters slowly flowed away,
To gather shells and pebbles more
For me to play with on the shore.


Ire ;Z'

~PIr;
































THE TIDES.


IN THE FIELDS.

SIN summer-time I often go
.. Out to the fields where daisies grow
And, kneeling on the grassy ground,
SI pick the flowers all around.

."... ~ And just before I leave the field
I find a buttercup concealed
Down in the grass. And then I stay
To pluck its petals while I say:


One for fingers, two for thumbs,
Three for cherries, four for plums,
And five for bread and butter nice;
I '11 just go home and get a slice."



i



...- Iy"


As once I played beside the sea,
Its waters gently came to me,
To bring me seaweed, stones, and shells,
And wash the sand where I dig wells.


But when I went another day,
The waters slowly flowed away,
To gather shells and pebbles more
For me to play with on the shore.


Ire ;Z'

~PIr;







DORA AND HER RING.


As little Dora was feeding some birds out of her window, a pretty ring
slipped from her finger and fell, and nobody could find it. She felt very sorry,
for the ring had been given to her by her grandmama. It was too large
for her, and she put it on only once in a while, and then would lay it away.
Somebody said, "How foolish for her to feed the birds!" One day, three or four
weeks after she lost the ring, Dora thought she would look for it again, and she
found in the bushes beneath her window a bird's nest and,peeping in, saw five
little birds. The mother-bird flew around so wildly that Dora thought she
would wait till some other day to look at the little baby-birds. But she got
only a peep now and then, for the mother-bird kept watching, as if she feared
somebody would rob her nest. But one day in July, when all was still,
Dora stood tip-toe and gazed into the nest. The birds had all gone, but
she saw something shining brightly in the soft down at the side of the nest
where the birds had lived. It was her own precious ring, which had fallen
into the nest! She never lost it again, and she was always glad that she fed
the birds.





THE BROTHERS.

By AGNES LEWIS MITCHILL.

I.
ONE little brother is short and slow;
The other is taller, and he can run,
For he takes twelve steps with his longer leg
While his brother is taking one.

II.
One little brother a bell must ring,
With every step that he slowly makes.
But the other runs gaily from morn till night
Nor cares to notice the steps he takes.

He who loves riddles may guess me this one,-
Who are the brothers and where do they run?
VOL. XXI.-116. 921







DORA AND HER RING.


As little Dora was feeding some birds out of her window, a pretty ring
slipped from her finger and fell, and nobody could find it. She felt very sorry,
for the ring had been given to her by her grandmama. It was too large
for her, and she put it on only once in a while, and then would lay it away.
Somebody said, "How foolish for her to feed the birds!" One day, three or four
weeks after she lost the ring, Dora thought she would look for it again, and she
found in the bushes beneath her window a bird's nest and,peeping in, saw five
little birds. The mother-bird flew around so wildly that Dora thought she
would wait till some other day to look at the little baby-birds. But she got
only a peep now and then, for the mother-bird kept watching, as if she feared
somebody would rob her nest. But one day in July, when all was still,
Dora stood tip-toe and gazed into the nest. The birds had all gone, but
she saw something shining brightly in the soft down at the side of the nest
where the birds had lived. It was her own precious ring, which had fallen
into the nest! She never lost it again, and she was always glad that she fed
the birds.





THE BROTHERS.

By AGNES LEWIS MITCHILL.

I.
ONE little brother is short and slow;
The other is taller, and he can run,
For he takes twelve steps with his longer leg
While his brother is taking one.

II.
One little brother a bell must ring,
With every step that he slowly makes.
But the other runs gaily from morn till night
Nor cares to notice the steps he takes.

He who loves riddles may guess me this one,-
Who are the brothers and where do they run?
VOL. XXI.-116. 921






RHYMES OF THE STATES.

BY GARRETT NEWKIRK.


"--- "- .7 . --




New York is called the "Empire State,"
And rightly bears the name;
As first in people, wealth, and trade, .
No State contests her claim.

Into her ports great vessels throng
To make her rich and great,
tnd New York City, like a queen, '
( Sits proudly at her gate. i

he grand old Hudson in the east, ,i ;


By many a city. flows;
An ,westward roll iagara/
s every traveler lnows.

Lon Island's like wimmil
But qe oo big/to fry!
A "Sandy Hook' s ar it!
And Brooklyn mar


-,, ~~


/IL ,P


V. V

*i


I:






RHYMES OF THE STATES.


/'



--- -







-,For factories and thriving farms
New Jersey is renowned;
'The storied Catskills 'northward rise,
. While southward plains abound.

For fine sea-bathing thousands come
From cities far and near,
STo Atlantic City, Asbury Park,
SAnd Long Branch, every year.

If like this State a boy were washed,
He surely would go frantic-
His face in the river Delaware,
His back by the'Atlantic!

Across the frozen Delaware,
Your books will tell you when, -. .
' Washington went to'Trenton town .
And captured a thousand men.
J 3 R CITY.
r d
w -i& ;--












THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the x5th 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.


BOSTON, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The last time I'wrote to you it
was from Europe. When there we went to London,
and in that city I saw many queer streets, and I think I
will give you a few, viz., Stoney lane, Gutter street,
Bread street, Half-moon street, Dove-mews, Bute place,
Camomile street, Sise lane, Cushion street, Crip Stone
street, Puddle dock, Roman Bath, Huggins lane, St.
Mary's Axe street, and many others.
We went to Salisbury and saw Stonehenge and the
beautiful cathedral. While there, we drove to the house
where Charles II. stayed after the battle of Worcester.
It was a very pretty old-fashioned brick house set back
amid some poplars. Coming home we drove by the old
poultry cross, which was very interesting.
I am yours forever, ALFRED T. B-.

ST. PAUL, MINN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to tell the readers
of ST. NICHOLAS about a class in manual-trining for
girls.
For a long time work with tools has been taught to
the boys in St. Paul. Several months ago my father,
who is principal of one of the schools here, organized a
class of girls for this work.
This manual-training class is the only one for girls in
the grammar-schools of St. Paul. About twenty-five of
us began the work, and most or all liked it very much.
Our teacher, Mr. Oakes, is very skilful.
We had a large room fitted up with a bench for each
girl, and a set of tools at each bench. The tools are a
thirty-degree triangle, a forty-degree triangle, a T-
square, a knife, a saw, a hammer, two planes, and a few
other necessary tools. We cut out triangles, hexagons,
and other figures. We drew the figure first upon paper,
then the same on wood, and cut the wood to the line
with a knife. One of our last pieces of work was a
match-scratcher, with a stippled design and a piece of
sand-paper upon it. The last thing we made was a pa-
per-cutter. It was a good deal of work. It was about
six inches in length, and had a curved handle.
Most of the girls were very sorry when vacation came
and the lessons were ended.
We hope to continue it until we became skilful in the
use of tools. Your loving reader,
MARIE L. S-.

JACKSON, TENN.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will send you a little
poem I composed.
THE SLY OLD MOON.
THE Moon looked down upon the earth;
The Night said "Good-by," with sorrow.
But the sly old Moon said, with a wink,
"I might come back to-morrow."

The Night looked brighter than before:
"Now you must do what you say."
But the sly old Moon said with two winks,
"If not, some other day."
ALICE O'N-.


SOLIHULL, NEAR BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Seeing in this month's num-
ber of your delightful magazine something about
Mothering Sunday, I thought your small readers over
the water would like to know a little more about that
day, and how it was, and is still, kept in the Midland
counties of England. Long before the custom of the
children giving presents to their mothers began, it was
the custom for those who ordinarily attended service in
the village churches to attend a service on that day at
the Cathedral or Mother Church under whose rule they
were. Upon this grew the custom of presenting to the
mother of the household a small present on this Sun-
day, and a cake called a simnel cake, which, let me tell
you, is very rich and unpleasant to eat. After the Ref-
ormation the first of the above-mentioned customs was
discontinued, but the second still continues in some
parts of the country. In Staffordshire is an old saying
that "Who goes a-mothering finds violets in the lane 1"
and almost everybody in the villages who can, does go
a-mothering; but I don't suppose they always find vio-
lets. In the Warwickshire village in which I live, which
by the way is only eighteen miles from Shakspere's
town, the school-children have a holiday on Mothering
Sunday, and would feel very much defrauded if it were
not given them. It is a very beautiful custom, I think,
this of giving up one day every year to the mother who
does so much for us; and I hope it will be long before it
is altogether forgotten. Believe me, dear ST. NICHOLAS,
Sincerely yours, MARY M-.



THE TWO SWORDS.
A LEGEND. BY A. E. C. AND J. I. M.
MANY years ago, in the days of King Arthur and his
Knights of the Round Table, an armorer made two
broadswords from the same piece of steel. These
swords were bought by two knights between whose
families there had been a feud for centuries. Each went
his way. Years afterward the two lords met in mortal
combat, to settle the feud. The lists were filled, the
people waited breathlessly for the combatants to appear.
The opponents were allowed three strokes at each other.
The gallant chargers dashed together. There was a
crash, two bright blades flashed in the sunlight, and
were about to descend, when lo! the swords leaped
from their owners' hands and hung between the earth
and sky! The knights reined back their pawing
steeds, the lookers-on stared open-mouthed at the phe-
nomenon. Then every one clamored for an explanation.
While the crowd was surging round the two knights, a
man, an armorer by trade, stepped from among them.
Stretching his hands toward the weapons, he said
"Come!" The swords dropped into his hands, as own-
ing him their master. "Lords and ladies," he said
simply, "I know these swords, for I myself forged them
from the same piece of metal. Knowing that they were
brothers the two blades refused to strike at each other."
The mystery was solved. The master of ceremonies
then came forward and addressed the knights. My







THE LET

lords, why should ye not profit by this lesson? Ye are
near kinsmen severed by a feud; nevertheless, ye are of
the same stock. Have I spoken well ? "ruly, 't was
well said; so let it be! exclaimed both the knights in
the same breath; and forever after the two knights
with the twin swords were inseparable.



UPPER SALT RIVER, A. T.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We live in a valley entirely
surrounded by high rugged hills and mountains. The
Sierra Anchos are on the north, the Pinals on the east,
and the Mogollon and Four Peaks on the south and
west; in whatever direction we look we see mountains.
When the vaqueros are rounding-up in the mountains
they often set fire to the chaparral, which is so dense
and cranky that no one can ride through it; and that
opens the county and drives down the wild cattle. We
can see their fires at -night for forty or fifty miles, and
when the Indians are on the war-path, we can see their
signal-fires in different directions.
Your Arizona reader, IDA H- .


MOBILE, ALA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: There are only three in our
family-Father, Mother, and myself. I am the only
child, and consequently go everywhere they go. We
have traveled a great deal. I am originally from York-
shire, England. First we went to Japan, and stayed
there for about five months. We had an American girl
for our neighbor, and we soon became good friends. It
was along time before I got used to the dress and habits
of the Japanese. It was too funny to see men drawing
people about the streets in gigs; but the Japs are not half
as funny-looking as the Chinese. While we were in
China we saw the emperorseveral times. The first time
we saw him he was outfor an airing. He was in lovely
coach, the seats of which were embroidered in purple and
gold. The emperor had on a most gorgeous costume.
It had so many colors in it that really I cannot describe
it. The coach was drawn by six magnificent horses.
Their harness was made of glittering gold, and each
horse had a great purple plume fastened on the top of
his head. Behind the emperor's coach was a long pro-
cession of men onhorseback. When the people saw the
procession coming they bowed low and uncovered their
heads. Last year we all came over to America. I visited
the Exposition and saw Helen Keller. She has such a
sweet face that I am all the more interested in her.
Your most ardent admirer, VIVIENNE K. S- .



SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I thought I would write to you
and let you know about a little club we have got, called
the S. F. Boys' Club.
This club is made up for the pleasure and amusement
of boys, who come in different classes and do different
kinds of work.
The first class meets on Monday evening. This class
is called The Hale. On this evening, while some of the
boys draw with charcoal, the others carve wood. After
the boys finish their work they come down-stairs and play
all sorts of games till it is time for home; then, getting
their tickets, and with a good-night, they leave for home.
Tuesday evening the boys cane chairs and make door-
mats, and after work they read or play games. This
club is called the Findout Club. On Wednesday even-
ing the boys do a kind of metalwork. Thursday even-
ing leather is the chief material; repairing and mending


rER-BOX. 925

saddles, and cutting and sewing different patterns in
leather is the work of the boys.
Friday night is next. This class is called the News.
Club; and it well deserves its name. Hammock-making
is the occupation of these boys. On Saturday night
the boys work in wood. Sunday is set apart for a library.
The boys of the club come and get a book to read during
the week, returning it two weeks later.
There is also an afternoon club. The boys too small
to come in the night come in the afternoon on Tuesday,
Wednesday, and Thursday, and on Saturday mornings.
On Tuesday afternoon the boys make door-mats of hay
ropes; on the other days they make baskets.
The club boys' mothers come on Monday afternoon
and have tea, and talk. The club is in a privae house.
Young men and women come and teach the boys how
to do the work. The club is not very large at present;
there are about 150 in the club altogether, and there are
plenty more waiting for a vacancy.
I remain, yours truly, JOHN G- .
(One of the Friday night boys.)



VERDUGO, CALIFORNIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in southern California,
very near Los Angeles. Although January, February,
and March are in the eastern States the most unpleasant
months of the year, here it is almost as hot as in sum-
mer, and everything is green and fresh. The oranges
are then ripening in the many orchards around us, and to
those who are not accustomed to it, it seems very strange
to see both flowers and fruit at once on the same tree.
We live in the midst of the foot-hills, not far from the
real mountains, and the other day we took a trip up
Mount Lowe. This is a peak in the great range near
by, and to the foot of it runs an electric road, but for the
steeper ascent there is a cable. We drove the greater
part of the way, and enjoyed it very much. We passed
great fields of brilliant orange-colored poppies- a com-
mon sight here, although they are seldom seen in such
numbers. We ate our lunch at the foot of the moun-
tain, and then took the electric car. It winds through a
very picturesque cation to the starting-place of the cable
road. This ascent is probably the steepest in the world.
The steepest grade is sixty-two per cent. to every hun-
dred feet, and the lowest, forty-two. We waited for a
few moments at the hotel, for the car had just gone up,
heavily loaded, and another must come down. One
looks somewhat apprehensively at the terrible ascent,
and the tiny white speck creeping down toward us seems
as if it must lose its hold and fall. But no even while
we watch, it comes nearer and nearer, and at last, at the
foot, it has stopped; we are all crowding in, and with a
few moments' wait for all to be comfortably settled, we
are started at last. If you do not look over the edges
of the car you will hardly realize the steepness of the
road, for the cars are built in such a manner as to keep
the seats perfectly level. We slowly creep up the as-
cent, while the conductor kindly gives us a history of
the road, the money it cost, the trouble it took, and the
beauty of the view. This road runs only to the top of
Echo Mount-a part of Mount Lowe-but it is to be
extended. As we ascend, the country spreads out like a
map in little squares of green, and the many poppies
look like rust. We had a pleasant time at the top of
Echo Mount, where there is a good hotel. Taking
horses, we rode on a narrow trail up through a deep
cation to the source of the water-supply, and found it
very interesting. They have all the characteristic moun-
tain animals in cages, and we spent some time looking at
them. There were two wildcats--beauties, but they
never ceased growling; a lynx, a little black bear, a pretty






THE LETTER-BOX.


gray squirrel, two eagles, and a huge hawk. The fun-
niest thing was a baby burro. The burro is a kind of
donkey, but has long rough hair, and is very much
smaller. This baby burro was as shaggy as the shaggi-
est little poodle; you could not see his eyes at all through
the thick hair. After spending two hours on the moun-
tain top, we again took the car this time going down.
When we reached the hotel at the foot, we went up
through Rubio Canion to the beautiful Leontine Falls,
where the water falls over a solid wall of rock in two
leaps of about sixty feet each. The scenery all through
the cation is grand beyond description. We all had
cut manzanita canes for mementos of our visit, and found
them very useful in climbing. The manzanita has a
smooth hark with very twisted stems, and in color ranges
from dark red to cinnamon. A large bay-tree was grow-
ing near the hotel, and we all took a spray of it. We
boarded the last electric car reluctantly, for we had had
a very pleasant time. Your faithful reader,
NORA F--.

NORTH BRINK, WISBECH, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought some of your readers
might like to hear how my younger sister and I drive our
uncle's collie dogs with reins. It is great fun. We have
two pairs of reins, so that we could drive them together
or one each, but we scarcely ever drive the old one; she
is so silly and nervous. She is very handsome, and in
some parts nearly black. She is called Flossie." The
young one is much more fun, and he is always jumping
and barking about. I was born in South America, and
so was my sister. My grandmama sends you to me
every month. Your devoted admirer,
LEILA K. S-.

KANSAS CITY, Mo.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old. When
I was a very little girl my spine was hurt, and I have
been so helpless since I can't even turn in bed when I
feel cramped lying in one position. But I am very happy.
My dear mama gives me most loving attention, and I
have such beautiful flowers and all the books I want.
On account of my headaches, I am not allowed to try to
study or read, except ST. NICHOLAS (other books Mama
reads aloud to me); that is always given to me, and I
read it when I feel strong enough. Such adear friend as
it is! I am so glad to welcome it each month. I have
been so interested in what it contained about Helen
Keller. There is a little girl who is so much worse off
than I am, and yet she is so happy and cheerful. But of
all the stories, I like "Toinette's Philip" best. I should
like to write about my little black-and-tan dog. She is
so funny. But I am afraid I am taking too much space.
May I send my love to the other ST. NICHOLAS children ?
MAYSIE E-- .

NILES, MICH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: lam ten years old. I have
taken the ST. NICHOLAS four years and enjoy its stories
very much.
Five years ago we went to California: Grandma,
Grandpa, Aunt Blanche, Mama, and myself. As we
were passing through Arizona, a man got on the train,
who was dressed like a cow-boy; he had on a buckskin
suit and a large sombrero. We got to talking with him,
and he said he had been among the Mexicans and In-
dians. He said one day, when he was standing at the
door of his house, a Mexican shot him through the cheek.
He was on his way to his home in Los Angeles. On


inquiring his name, he said it was Charles F. Lummis.
Since then I have renewed his acquaintance in the ST.
NICHOLAS. I look for his stories with great interest. I
hope he will have some more soon.
I remain your loving reader, BLANCHE W- .


BOOM CAMP, VIA CASA GRANDE, ARIZ.
DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: Mama took you two years
before I was born and two years after; so when we came
away down here to a mining-camp in the deserts of Ari-
zona, I have had the old numbers to read, which Mama
says are worth more than a gold-mine to me. Since I
have been here I have saved my own money to take you.
I should like to give you a description of some of the
wonderful cacti here. Our great sahuaro would easily
reach over the tops of some of your two- and three-story
buildings. They are covered with rows of thorns, the
shortest a quarter of an inch in length, the longest over
three inches. They have a beautiful wax-like flower,
and bear a delicate fruit. Apache Indians, who were
driven out of this country by Pappago and Pima Indians
(who still remain here), used to make their victims
climb up these great poles.
The.ocatillo is another strange cactus. Its long, thin,
and slightly twisted branches, growing from one root,
look something like snakes twirled in the air, though
at the tip of each branch there blossoms a beautiful
scarlet flower, which is full of sweet honey.
As my letter is getting too long, I will finish with the
cholla, which grows in all sorts of shapes, and is a mass
of thorns. It also has a lovely flower of very rich colors.
It ranges in size from higher than our buggy-top to
smaller than the top of my shoe.
There are several Indian villages a few miles away.
The Indians bring corn, wheat, squash, watermelons,
and pottery to sell. We talk to them with a few Indian
and Spanish words we have picked up.
I am nine years old, and love ST. NICHOLAS as my
best friend. Adios. Your loving reader,
C. OLGA R-.

VERA CRUZ, MEXICO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on the shore of the Gulf
of Mexico. Our house faces the sea. I have three
brothers, and I am the only daughter. We have a large
boat called the "Argos," and we enjoy going out in it.
My English teacher subscribed for you, and we all
like you very much. I have all my lessons in English.
Your little Mexican friend,
CONCEPTION M-.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Bertha P., Helen
C., Elinor S. L., Mary S. T., Janet D. B., E. Louise T.,
Laura, Edna S. P., Leslie J. M., Helen S. S., Martin N.,
Edith A. N., Edith R. M., Gabriella M. D., Rose S.,
B. B., D. W., Edna T., Katie W. B., Sumner G. R.,
Genevieve F. W., David H., Helen R. C., Olivia H.,
Mary W. M., Mary Austin Y., Madeline J., Isabel A.,
C. T. H., Margaret J. E., Robert M. M., Alma S. B.,
F. P. H., Ruth M. B., Hans Carl D., A. S. T., Clari-
bel M., Clover D., Florence D., Alice V. J., Willie K.,
Marie D., B. M. M., Luella C., Harry I. H., Sarah F.
H., Paul P., Olive, Nina S. V., Earle C. A., Fred D.,
Fannie H., Mary P., Mary B. M., Lorraine E., Nellie
F., Virginia H. K., Floy C.


926














THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER..
HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Fanatic. Cross-words: i. safFron. CUBE. From I to 2, vulture; I to 3, varlets; 2 to 4, entwines;
2. frAnc. 3. aNt. 4. A. 5. aTe. 6. blInd. 7. penCils. 3 to 4, sausage; 5 to 6, dialect; 5 to 7, decided; 6 to 8, twisted;
ILLUSTRATED DOUBLE ACHOSTIC. Primals, Freedom; finals, 7 to 8, defaced; I to 5, void; 2 to 6, erst; 4 to 8, eyed; 3 to 7, stud.
Lincoln. Cross-words: i. Fowl. 2. Radii. 3. Eighteen. 4. Ec- pl. Hot midsummer's petted crone,
clesiastic. 5. Dodo. 6. Oval. 7. Martin. Sweet to me thy drowsy tone
SEVEN FAMOUS AUTHORS. i. Coleridge. 2. Wordsworth. Tells of countless sunny hours.
3. Lamb. 4. Pope. 5. Hugo. 6. Carlyle. 7. Cowper. Long days; and solid banks of flowers;
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "The talent of success is nothing more Of gulfs of sweetness without bound,
than doing what you car do well; and doing well whatever you do, In Indian wildernesses found;
without a thought of fame." Hyferion. Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure,
A DIAMOND IN A DIAMOND. I. B. 2. Bag. 3. Bella. 4. Bal- Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure.
lots. 5. Globe. 6. Ate. 7. S. EMERSON.- To the Humble Bee.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centrals, Farragut. Cross-words: i. proF- SOME LETTER-WORDS. I. B-calm. 2. X-changed. 3. E-nu-
fer. 2. bloAter. 3. chaRiot. 4. claRion. 5. broAden. 6. draGged. merated. 4. X-claimed. 5. D-famed. 6. X-pert. 7. D-pendent.
7. fraUght. 8. cloThes. 8. X-pounded. 9. D-graded. to. X-communicating. ii. S-chewed.
NOVEL ZIGZAG. From r to 7, Lincoln; from 8 to 14, Dickens. -ated. -aed. 84. -parted. D-populated.
Cross-words: I. Yielding. a. Childish. 3. Announce. 4. Cook- E-ate. a. M-I-rated. a8. X-E-crated.
book. 5. Howitzer. 6. Pulmonic. 7. Transfer. WORD-SQUARE. I. Camp. 2. Alone. 3. Moor. 4. Pert.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the x5th 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 MAY NUMBER were received, before May 15th, from Jo and I-Paul Reese--Helen
Rogers- Mama, Isabel, and Jamie-Josephine Sherwood -Louise Ingham Adams-M. S. and D. S.-"All Three"-Isabelle Clark-
Uncle Mung-L. 0. E.- Marjorie, Mabel, and Henri-Annie Robbins Peabody.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received before May 25th, from Mama and Sadie, ro--Francis W. Honey-
cutt, Lucy B. Keene, i-G. B. Dyer, ax -"M. McG.," Ix-Ethel C. Watts, 2-E. L. McAdory, 3-Helen C. McCleary, x1-
Bessie T. Rosan, i Hugh KiChler, i Walter S. Weller, 2 Homer Viles, I-J. F. M., -" G. S." and "M. Springer," I -" Two
Chickens," I-S. V. M. P., 2-Ellen Jewett, 3-Alice Butterfield, i-"Romeo and Juliet," i-Wilson A. Monroe, I-"Two Athe-
nians," 4-Leila C., 2-Edna H. Reynolds, I- Virginia H. K., I- Harold A. Fisher, 5-John F. Russell, Jr., 2-Mary Gardner. 3-
Mary Pratt, i-Ray Wall, I-Geo. S. Seymour, 9-No Name, Portland, Oregon, 2-Ethel M. Cook, 2-Dodo and Beebee, i-Effie
K. Talboys, 9-"Two Muses," i-Marjorie Lewis, --One little Girl in Blue, I -" The Wise Five," x -" English Cowslip," 6-
May Fitzpatrick, I- Gertrude Miller, 5- R. 0. B., 3- Otto Wolkwitz, I- Hans Wolkwitz, I- H. D. Grinnell, i- R. W. G., x- L.
H. K., I -Alma Steiner, 2 -Bessie R. Crocker, jo-Herbert Wright, 3 -Anna Rochester, 4-" Apple K." and Rusticity," 6-Mar-
jory Gane, 8 Eleanor Williams, 8 Louise Mayhew, 2 June, to- Adele Clark, i M. G. D., Carrie Miller, 2 Lillian Davis, -
John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman, xx-No Name, New York City, x- Blanche and Fred, z Two Little Brothers, 9-Ida Carleton
Thallon, xr-No Name, Phila., ir-Rosalie Bloomingdale, I--" Highmount Girls," ao-"Gamma Kai Gamma," 4-Uncle Will
and I, I -" Butterflies," ao--Marie P., 3- Isabella W. Clarke, 5- Ruth Mason, ix-"Tip-cat," 9.

DOUBLE CENTRAL ACROSTIC. 15-48-58-43 is to dart along. My 26-30-8-55-41 is part v
of a saw. My 53-51-9-32-22 is a pleasure-boat. My
ALL of the words described contain the same number 64-28-5-19-23 is a sweet fluid. My 37-7-46-34-45 is
of letters. The two central rows, reading downward, the pollox. My 38-12-36-60-4 is a Russian proclama-
spell the name of an eminent American author, and the tion or imperial order. My 49-14-20-16-62-6 is the
name of one of the United States. blue titmouse. My 29-21-42-57-39-10-31 is a very
CROSS-WORDS: I. Enchanting. 2. Swamp blackbirds. common bird. My 18-56-13-33-50-1-25 was a very wise
3. A vindicator. 4. Affected niceness. 5. Inclined to man. My 44-59-47-63-27-3-40-52-54 is intensifies.
one side, under a press of sail. 6. L. w.
Fixed dislike. 7. Comforted. 8.
Emitting. 9. Inclosed places con- CUBE.
structed for producing and main-
taining great heat. "CALAMUS." I ..... 2

ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.

THIS little man has the whole 5 .. 6
alphabet in his bag. What one
letter must he take from it to com-
plete the nine syllables shown in >
the picture? 3 .... 4

NU.1ERICAL
ENIGMA.

I AM composed of sixty- 7 8
fourletters,andform aquo-
tation concerning brains, FROM I to 2, a grassy plain; from I to 3, an introduc-
from the writings of tion; from 2 to 4, to extinguish; from 3 to 4, to develop;
Thomas Fuller. from 5 to 6, a building; from 5 to 7, an abridgment;
My 17-2 is a conjunc- from 6 to 8, one who elects; from 7 to 8, to give author-
tion. My 24-35-11-61 is ity to; from I to 5, to languish; from 2 to 6, a border;
a measure of length. My from 4 to 8, always; from 3 to 7, other. "ZUAR."






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


UNITED STATES
PUZZLE.

THERE are eighteen
words pronounced in say-
ing "United States." All
of these words have differ-
ent meanings, though some
are pronounced alike. For
instance, unite, knight, night,
etc. What are the other fifteen
words? H. W. ELLIS.
CHARADE.
MYflrst is something of which only man, alligators,
serpents, and cats are capable.
My second is common to three of the above-named
creatures.
My third is a short railway.
My whole is the only thing man has created.
LUCY E. ABBOT.

DIAMOND WITHIN A SQUARE.


% *

4 '


SQUARE: I. Leaven. 2. Impetuous. 3. Active. 4. A
city in Alabama. 5. To walk with a stately step.
INCLUDED DIAMOND: I. In eagle. 2. To become
old. 3. Alert. 4. A graceful tree. 5. In eagle.
H. W. E.
MISPLACED. NUMBERS.
REARRANGE the numbers given in the column in such
a way that, reading by sound, one or more words may
be formed. For instance, when the figure I, now placed
before the syllable "pins," is placed before the syllable
"der," the word "wonder" will be formed. What are
the remaining words ?
9 wist,
6 on,
2 tell,
80 tor,
8 ply,
10 cup,
3 der,
4 pell,
I pins.
J. c. B.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
ALL the words described contain the same number of
letters; when rightly guessed, and placed one below
another, in the order here given, the central row of let-


ters, reading downward, will spell
an old instrument of punishment.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A kind of tree.
2. A sharp instrument. 3. Dirt. 4. A
seaweed of a reddish brown color, which
is sometimes eaten. 5. To scrutinize or
examine thoroughly. 6. A -body of men.
7. Upholding the lawful authority.
HERBERT J. SIDDONS.

DIAMOND.
I. IN lock. 2. A vehicle. 3. An animal.
4. A color. 5. In lock. s. STRINGER.

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
MY first is in fly, but not in gnat;
My second, in weasel, but not in cat;
My third is in raven, but not in wren;
My fourth is in bittern,, but not in hen;
My fifth is in crane, but not in stork;
My sixth is in tern, but not in auk;
My seventh, in heron, but not in teal;
My eighth is in lamprey, but not in eel;
My ninth is in lion, but not in boar;
My whole is a monster of mythical lore.
"SAMUEL SYDNEY."

QUADRUPLE ACROSTIC.


FROM I to 9, a famous general; from Io to 18, a famous
statesman; from 19 to 27, a famous author; from 28 to
36, a famous authoress.
From I to Io, piercing; 2 to II, a severe test; 3 to 12,
a misty or cloudlike object in the heavens; 4 to 13, within
a ship; 5 to 14, a name given to South American plains;
6 to 15, unceremonious; 7 to 16, florid and fantastic in
style; 8 toI 7, a kind of plaid cloth, much worn in the
Highlands of Scotland; 9 to 18, to come forth.
From Io to 19, a town of Sind, British India; II to
20, a thin plate or scale; 12 to 21, a masculine name;
13 to 22, to pour into bottles; 14 to 23, to seek for; 15
to 24, a city of Spain, noted for its weapons; 16 to 25,
one who is eloquent; 17 to 26, a people; 18 to 27, to
pass away silently, as time.
From 19 to 28, to stick at small matters; 20 to 29,
acknowledged openly; 21 to 30, arousing; 22 to 31, part
of a bell; 23 to 32, a famous English school; 24 to 33,
a city of Portugal; 25 to 34, inveterate hatred; 26 to 35,
nothing; 27 to 36, sufficient. SAMUEL SYDNEY.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


928


E 44


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