• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 December
 Santa Claus' pathway
 President for one hour
 How the dominie went to sea
 A boy of the first empire
 Snow song
 Black Douglas
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 Chris and the wonderful lamp
 The martyrdom of a poet
 The fool's Christmas
 Fighting a fire
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 The little courd that crumbled
 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/UF00065513/00291
 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: VID00291
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Page 90
    December
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Santa Claus' pathway
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    President for one hour
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    How the dominie went to sea
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Snow song
        Page 122
    Black Douglas
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Chris and the wonderful lamp
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
    The martyrdom of a poet
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
    The fool's Christmas
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
    Fighting a fire
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
    The little courd that crumbled
        Page 169
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 170
        Page 171
    The letter-box
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    The riddle-box
        Page 175
        Page 176
    Back Matter
        Page 177
    Back Cover
        Page 178
        Page 179
    Spine
        Page 180
Full Text







































loll tq-
W'"

'41 WX









WA,




''" I '
_- "~lli~r ...... ...
_.-', .: h''.fl M. ,t-..,
1'






















4 1




TIC





'I




#1* ,v e
A~s A~



r ,4







































...~1--1-




















yr. .r -sr


'

.4.' I-e "
'I-' St


tLL/r'C:qut LAA 1i









NICHOLAS.


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


ST.


VOL. XXII.


No. 2.








p~ ~-~p -,a, : --; ~---~-e 'frl~ 'r
I'-- li'bXrF'"r .
%'
~
;'''
-- .,..
'~P
~?;~ ;~d.~
-
..' r---
P

* -i-r I


nidif i hlc N c-111 II IaS Ill-a e dc old

.-\nd siI\cd -11 1 h\' 1(11\v of ti(,J( .

ThI ht\ 4lCgt I mIS I \ \IV I'i)CCI a-cold(


-)r ktimI\n a faidin~o- cinbIcr.


[1 Ic \\] iolc Vorid is a (IIrlsi' tI I i (-,;I

.A-\id stars its mai-IN candles be


01! HIY C'11,01 i~il

TI c c ad I 21(Ctt I'ast il


mII


C 1 '
I-S


I \Ca iI~











U


~
li k ~
"'
7i :~~fl~;:










1 4'


For. onccoil a Dec ember night

A.n anglcl held a candli bright.

And led three w\isc mien bv its light

To whcre a child was slCeeing.


Harrit F. Blodgctl.


_7-WrS
* YO^


- **--- /:
' .^.-*i'-^1










SANTA CLAUS' PATHWAY.

BY JULIA W. MINER.


SNOW everywhere -not the city snow, which
is so quickly trampled down and smirched, and
which one gladly sees carried off in carts, cer-
tain of its swift transformation to slush and
mud, but the clean, white, lasting country
snow. It covered the paths, the roads, the
fields, lying in great drifts against the buildings
and fences; each low roof had its frozen white
covering, fringed here and there with icicles;
the mountains were gray to their tree-clothed
summits, matching the gray sky, whence tiny
flakes fell now and again.
Over the fields trudged Nan and Ned, caring
nothing for snow or drifts; for on their feet were
strapped big snow-shoes, and they scuffled along
securely enough.
"First fall!" cried Ned, as Nan, inadvertently
pointing her big shoe into the snow, stuck, and
settled hastily and ungracefully on the ground.
Give me your hand, Neddy. What a stupid
I am! Up she scrambled, shaking the white
powder from her scarlet toboggan-suit. With
the thermometer at ten degrees, there is little
fear of dampness from a tumble into a drift.
Now for a race," said Ned; I '11 give you
a start, and beat you to the little bridge."
Thank you for nothing. You need n't give
me a start, my boy, but I '11 beat you just the
same. Ready!"
Off scuffled the two, Nan with a careful re-
membrance that her feet must be kept flat.
Good for you, Nan!" Ned said, as his sister
kept close by him. It '11 be nip and tuck,
sure enough."
Suddenly the boy's toe struck a projecting
rock. Over he went, while Nan, at that
moment a little in advance, pushed on unsee-
ing. Arrived, triumphant, at the goal, she
turned to look for her opponent. Half-way back
sprawled a dark-gray figure; a handkerchief
fluttered from one elevated foot, while close
to this flag of truce stood two childish figures.
Back rushed the victor.


"Oh, Ned! Not hurt, are you?"
Oh, no; just resting. Strap 's broken.
Sorry I can't rise and bow and congratulate
you, ma'am. It was nip and tuck, was n't it?
I got nipped and you tuck it." And the van-
quished one sat up and proceeded to mend his
snow-shoe with some string. Having offered
her handkerchief and a further store of cord
produced from her own pocket, Nan turned
her attention to the new-comers--a boy of
about her own age, and a girl several years
younger.
"Good morning," she said pleasantly.
"Morning," said the girl, in a low voice.
"You 're strangers in the village, are n't
you ? "
"Yes, we are. Father 's here for his health;
we 've just come. Mother 's going to take in
washing, 'cause father can't work now."
"Find it rather cold, don't you?" said Ned.
"Yes, it 's awful cold; but Father likes it,
and the doctor says it 's good for him."
"That 's so. You see, we know all about
it, for we 've always lived here. We 're the
doctor's children." And Nan nodded pleas-
antly to the two, noting their coarse yet neat
clothing, and their somewhat sad young faces.
"You're lucky to be here for the first snow,"
said Ned, scrambling up, and stamping to test
his new fastenings. And Christmas makes
everybody feel jolly."
"We 're not going to have any Christmas
this year," the girl said.
Can't help yourselves, I guess," was Ned's
cheerful reply. December twenty-fifth brings
it every time, and that's to-morrow, sure pop!"
Gerty means we can't have presents," joined
in the boy. But we don't mind, do we, sis?
It costs a lot to get them, and it cost so much
to get here, we can't hang up our stockings.
We always have before, though," he added
quickly.
Dave 's real good, but I can't help minding







SANTA CLAUS' PATHWAY.


some. I wish Christmas did n't come so ex-
pensive," she sighed after a pause, during which
Nan and Ned had looked at them in silence.
Where do you live ?" asked Nan at last.
Down that road there, alongsidee o' the river,
beyond the pines. First there 's a blue house,
and ours is the second pink one." (Houses
of many colors flourished in the little mountain
village.) "Dave tried coasting down that funny
open place there in the pines; it looks like a
V turned upside down. He tried it on a board,
and he stuck; it was too soft."
"Oh, that's Santa Claus' Pathway," laughed
Nan. Then, as the strangers stared, "That 's
what we were told when we were little. You
see, Santa Claus is the only person who can
coast down it; I suppose the reindeer under-
stand the road. And sometimes they run down
so quickly that things drop out of the sleigh.
Ned and I looked for them when we were small.
Did n't we ? "
Yes, indeed; many a time. Well, good-by,
youngsters. Come along, Nan."
Left alone, Gertv and Da\e looked at each
other a moment.
"Is n't she a beauty .? saii
Gerty at last, with a l.nr-idrirn
sigh. "And, oh, Davy. let's g
there and look t-:-m.:.rro:,' ; \,ili
you?"
The boy laughed. Ye.s, il --ll.
like," said he. EBu don't e-\pect
anything; it 's o-nil a to:ryv."
Nan's spirits were ir.o that alter-
noon. The thought lof the t:
"new children troLiuled c
her, and she knew ,:.r
nothing she could
do, for her last
penny had been
spent inher girl-
ish Christmas
preparations,
and all her
available cast-
off things had -Yi ,
been contrib-
uted already to
the various big ----
e s GOOD FOR YOU, NAN NED SAID,
packages that


her kind mother made up for the poorer village
folk at this time. A talk with Ned brought no
balm to her spirit; like her, he was penniless.
"Dead broke, my dear, and no use. Father's
advanced some of my January allowance al-
ready. But we might ask him."
"No, we must n't. Mother told me he 's
given away more than he can afford now.
It 's hard times for him, too. I don't see
why it makes any difference with a doctor,
Neddy. People have to be sick just the
same," she said reflectively.
Ned offered no explanation,
so Nan retreated to her ,
own pretty room to look, ./
for the twentieth time, /
at the dainty, ribbon-
tied packages she had
prepared for the mor-
row. "It must be
just horrid not to
have any Christ--
mas fun," she .
thought a-ain. .


AS HIS SISTER KEPT CLOSE BY HIM. 'IT LL BE NIP AND
TUCK, SURE ENOUGH. "






SANTA CLAUS' PATHWAY.


The next day dawned bright and sunny and
crisp, a perfect Christmas morning. The doc-
tor's household was stirring betimes, for the
four stockings with their abundant overflow
must be inspected at an early hour, and Ned
and Nan, youthful tyrants on that day, tapped
early at their parents' door. Who does not
know the fun of rummaging a Christmas
stocking!
According to their usual custom, Dr. Lowe
looked at his gifts first, being, as Ned said, "the
oldest child." And few of his patients would
have recognized their grave physician, as he
guessed and peeped, and pulled out the pres-
ents, as eagerly as any boy. Nor was Mrs. Lowe
one whit less excited when her turn followed.
"Mother and father are two spoiled chil-
dren," said Ned, laughing, and casting a sus-
picious glance at the large package that leaned
against the fireplace close to his own stocking-
could it be the wished-for toboggan ? "They
have so many presents, they will get to be like
the little girl who had Christmas every day."
For the doctor's family was remembered by
nearly everybody in the village.
"What a beauty! Oh, father, how did you
know I wanted it so ?" cried the boy, as the
new toboggan was unwrapped and admired.
Down in his stocking's deepest depths Ned
found a tiny box, From Grandma Lowe."
Nan looked on with interest, for the shining
five-dollar gold piece would, without doubt,
have its double among her own gifts. And so
it was. The girl's quick brain was busy with
plans-a decision was reached at once; now
the long-wanted gold beads could be bought!
Breakfast was soon over. Down the tobog-
gan-slide and up again the children sped and
clambered with untiring enjoyment. And who
could grow weary of such a beauty as that new
toboggan! Ned and Nan were fearless and
sure of their balance, and neither could' ;be
brought to understand why their rapid rush, as
they stood erect on their toboggan, from top to
bottom of the snow-clad hill, was considered
a difficult feat by their companions.
Get on and have a slide," said Ned affably,
noticing among the little group of onlookers
the two strangers of the day before. "Hold
on tight now. If you 're not used to bumps,


you '11 fly off." Down sped the four, Gerty's
small shriek lost in the laughter her hasty rise
and fall aroused. But Ned had grasped her
quickly, so she was spared a tumble.
You '11 like it better next time, so let's try
again," said he, encouragingly.
"We can't; there 's the church bell, Ned,"
said Nan. "We must hurry."
As Nan stooped to tie a refractory shoe-lace,
she overheard-Dave say to Gerty:
"Now you 've had a Christmas treat, you
see, Gerty, even if we did n't find any dropped
things on Santa Claus's Pathway."
Nan's toilet for church was hasty, but she
and Ned were ready in time to follow their
father and mother into the pretty little church,
pine-trimmed and holly-deckedj and Nan's
clear voice rang out sweetly when the congre-
gation sang the Christmas hymn:

"Peace to the earth, good will to man,
From heaven's all-gracious King:"
The earth in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Over in the corner sat Gerty and Dave.
They were singing, too, and once Nan saw
Gerty stop and furtively wipe her eyes.

0 ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,"

sang Nan, as she wondered. Now the mean-
ing of the words came to her. She had not
thought of it before. Girls of thirteen do not
always.
The doctor's daughter did not listen to the
sermon. Her Christmas sermon had been
preached to her in that first hymn, and she
was thinking it over seriously and not without
some inward struggles. Poor Gerty and Dave!
A sick father, a poor hard-working mother,-
Nan stole a look at her own strong, handsome,
well-dressed parents, then glanced once more
at the sad-looking pair in the corner. And
for them there was, as Gerty had said, "no
Christmas."
But the village shops' close early Christmas
day, and they have so few nice things in them,

anyhow," whispered a selfish little spirit in her
heart. "And Grandma Lowe meant you to
buy something for yourself with that money."







SANTA CLAUS' PATHWAY.


:''7

-..




:trft
. ." :.e .
i .. .. u -,7:






.,


- .4


"NED DREW BACK, LETTING DAVE PULL OUT THE SCARLET SLED."
There was a little rustle as the congregation "Ned, I want to speak to you," she whis-
rose for the recessional: pered, almost dragging him down the church

O holy Child of Bethlehem! steps as the congregation filed out.
Descend to us, we pray; Those Lowe children are never happy long
Cast out our sins, and enter in, under a roof," laughed somebody, as the two.
Be born in us to-day. ran off on the board walk.
Nan wiped away some tears from her own The pink house down by the river was not
eyes as she dropped on her knees, the most cheerful place in the world that






SANTA CLAUS' PATHWAY.


Christmas afternoon. Its few furnishings were
not yet entirely unpacked; the big air-tight
stove smelled of varnish; and the invalid, seated
by the curtainless window, was having "one
of his bad days." The poor man looked dole-
ful enough. Sick and suffering, he felt himself
the cause of his family's poverty.
"There comes the doctor's sleigh, with his
pretty daughter," he said. He rides in style.
Why! It 's stopping here!"
"Father sends the sleigh," began Nan, after
the usual greetings, and hopes you will like to
take a little drive, as he is n't using it to-day."
The invalid glanced out at the beautiful
black horses with their jingling bells and scar-
let plumes, at the sleigh heaped with fur robes.
"Your father 's too good, Miss," he stam-
mered, his face flushing with pleasure.
"And perhaps Gerty and Dave might go
coasting with us-Ned and me."
Got on your boots, Dave ? queried Ned.
"Then we '1l go through the pines." He chat-
ted merrily as they started off, the two girls
cozily tucked up on the toboggan, the boys
acting as steeds for the chariot
Santa Claus's Pathway, like a big, white tent,
stretched up by their side as they skirted the
hill. "Hello!" said Ned, "er we might
climb up and see if-er--there 's anything
there; St. Nick might have dropped some-
thing."
"He did n't," said Gerty. "Dave and I
looked." Ned and Dave exchanged glances.
Try, try again,'" suggested Nan. "You
and I '11 go, too, Gerty. It is n't deep, and
it 's dry as dust."
Up scrambled the youthful quartet.
Let me talk, Ned," said Nan. "You hesi-
tate, and they '11 suspect."
"Well, how can a fellow think up things all
of a sudden?" whispered Ned in return, his
tone expressing his injured feeling.
"Oh-oh! Why, look!" cried Gerty, point-
ing to a patch of red half hidden by the snow.
"There! There! near that pine! "
The others ran forward, but Ned drew back,
letting Dave pull out the scarlet sled that re-
warded his search.
"Whew! That 's a stunner!" cried Dave.


"How did it get here? Some one must have
lost it."
"Santa Claus, to be sure," cried Nan; and
Ned added: "'Finding's keepings."
"Do you really think so ? said Dave, wist-
fully, unable to believe his good fortune.
Certain, sure," returned Ned. And, since
his own hands had put it there, who could
have known better?
Somebody told me there was n't any Santa
Claus, but I guess he's been here," said Gerty;
and she nodded her head with satisfaction.
"See here!" she cried. "And they're marked
'Gerty.'" She held up a box containing a lovely
warm hood, a pair of mittens, and a box of
candies as she spoke.
Oh, goody! goody!" cried the child.
"And look! here 's a game! We can play it
evenings, Dave; and maybe father 'd like it,
too. But," she said quickly, "you ought to
take something,- we must n't have them all."
That would be unfair; we 've had our pres-
ents this morning," replied Nan. "Prob'ly these
things were left here for you, for maybe Santa
Claus did n't know where you 'd moved to."
This explanation seemed to satisfy Gerty, and
she began to search again with fresh interest.
"These must be yours, Dave." Ned held
up some mittens just as Gerty cried:
"What a love-i-ly doll! Just to think it 's
mine. Oh, you dear dolly "
"And here 's a book with my name in it,"
called Dave in a few moments.
"I guess that 's all," remarked Ned, after a
few minutes' further search.
"Has n't it been scrumptious?" said Gerty
to Nan, as they descended the hill. And Nan
thought decidedly that it had been.
Say," said Dave to Ned, as they waited for
the two girls to get settled to their liking, one
on the toboggan, the other on the newly found
sled, I 'm pretty sure you and your sister put
those things there. Gerty believes in Santa
Claus,-she 's little, you see. But--I don't
know how to say it we 're awful much
obliged."
Tucked up warm and snug on the toboggan,
Nan was softly singing, under her breath, a
joyous Christmas carol.












PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.

BY FRED P. Fox.

IT was just eight o'clock as the passenger- out a bit of electric gossip to the entertained
train pulled out of the Wayville station on the listeners. No. 13 is five minutes late at
morning of December 24, 1891. The train was Bloss," he remarked. Then he smiled as he
heavily laden with merry people either bound said, "The general manager has just left High
for their Eastern homes, or gay holiday-shoppers Ridge on his 'special,' coming west. He must
going to the city to
purchase the last sup-
ply of presents that
were to make the com-
ing day the happiest
of the year.
The mail-car and ex-
press-cars were laden
to overflowing with
many queer-shaped
packages, and even
the spaces in the vesti-
bules between the cars
had to be utilized for
through pouches and
packages, so great was
the jam of Christmas
presents.
If it was a jolly
crowd that left the lit-
tle station, it was not
an unhappy one that
remained. The fog
had so settled down
upon and around
everything that the lit-
tle lamp in the tele-
graph and ticket office
shed but a feeble light "WITH STEADY FINGERS HE GRASPED THE TELEGRAPH-KEY." (SEE PAGE 102.)
upon the persons seated around the stove. There have a jolly party with him, for he has ordered
is always a crowd in a country station at train- fourteen dinners at Glenmore to be ready when
time, and in spite of the rules a few privileged he arrives there. His car will pass here at 9: o0."
persons always find their way into the office. "What engine's pulling the 'special'?" asked
Merrily the telegraph instrument ticked away, Bob Ford, one of the listeners.
sending its messages of hope or grief across a "No. 39."
continent. As he sat beside the instrument, "That 's father's old engine," spoke up Tom
Fred Clarke, the operator, once in a while gave Martin, a dark-eyed, dark-haired boy of fifteen






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


"THE MEN HAD OILED THE TRACK THOROUGHLY FOR SEVERAL HUNDRED YARDS."


years, who had been gazing intently into the
fire. "He used to run her on all the specials,
until he was killed in the accident at Oak
Bridge two years ago."
"Right you are, lad," said Bob Ford; "and
it's many the time I fired for him on old 39.
He was as brave and as true a man as ever
pulled a lever. You used to ride with us often
too did n't you, Tom ? "
Yes; until one day the general manager saw
me sitting in the cab, and issued an order that
after that day no one but regular employees
in the discharge of their duty should ride upon
the engines. I have never been on an engine
since; but I learned a great deal about them -
did n't I, Bob ? "
"Yes, you did, Tom; and, for a boy, you can
do as much about an engine as any youngster I
know. I would rather have you around than
many a fellow I know who 's now running
an engine. What are you doing now?"
Since father's death I do whatever I can to
help support my mother, and I find enough to
keep me out of mischief. I attend night-school,


and during the day I carry the mail between
the depot and town, carry dinners and lunches
for the men, sell papers, and deliver messages.
Besides, I am Fred's pupil, and have learned
telegraphy."
"Are you making a living at all these odd
jobs ? "
"Yes, I am; but of course I can't make what
father made; and we are trying to pay off the
mortgage on the house. I do wish, though, I
could do better. Here it is Christmas-time, and
I have been saving money for three months-
yes, six--in order to buy mother a nice warm
cloak; but when I came to price them I found
that the five dollars and a half I had saved
would not get anything at all like what I
wanted. It would take three dollars more, at
least. How I would like to have surprised my
dear old mother! But then, no matter; I can
get her something else that 's nice, and we will
have a merry Christmas, anyway."
You say you can telegraph," said Bob, after
a moment; what are the wires saying now? "
"The operator at High Ridge is asking


I00






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


whether No. 14 left here on time.- What 's
that?" he continued excitedly. "Keep still!
Rockville is saying, 'Freight-train- No. 33 -
broke into three sections--at Cantwell. Engi-
neer-thinking there was one break and that
rear section was under control-started back
to couple on. Dense fog-met middle section
coming at full speed--engineer and fireman
thrown from engine. Engine and three cars
running east down-grade at full speed.' That's
terrible!" he said. "But listen-'Middle sec-
tion, one mile behind, just passed-ten loaded
stock-cars-Jack Flynn clinging to rear car.
Must stop train if you can. If 14 has not yet
left, switch her to west-bound track or she '11
be lost.'" Then the instrument stopped ticking.
Is that right, Fred?" Bob asked the opera-
tor, as soon as he found his breath; "or has
Tom been joking with us ?"
"It's all true!" answered Fred. "-That's


No. 14, the passenger-train that had just left,
was bowling leisurely along at thirty miles an
hour, crowded with passengers. Behind, and
coming with resistless force, was a runaway
engine and three cars, running sixty miles an
hour, and behind that train was the heavy
broken section, ten loaded stock-cars, coming
nearly as fast.
There seemed to be no hope for the doomed
passengers, since on the west-bound track
the general manager's through-express was ap-
proaching. To attempt to switch the runaway
engine or section would be likely to tear up the
track, and the chances were that the loss of life
would be just as great, if not greater, than to
let the engine speed on its way. No wonder
the men turned pale as they understood the
situation of affairs-no wonder that the stoutest
hearts stood still, for, as they reflected, horror
seemed to pile on horror.


rk i-a3


Al1
A j


I.", ,
"HE GRASPED THE HANDLES AND SWUNG HIMSELF UP ON THE STEP."

just what 's happened! What shall we do ? Then out of the gloom there came a steady
What can we do ?" voice: it seemed filled with an inspiration. It
There was no answer to this appeal. The was an opportunity for the genius of a true
blanched faces of the listeners showed that all "railroad man"; and the man, or rather boy,
understood the horror of the situation, was there, ready to prove his capacity.


__T__







PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


The boy Tom spoke up: "All of you men
get out and oil the track,- pour on oil, put on
grease, smear it with tallow, or anything! That
will keep back the engine a little--perhaps
enough. After the engine has passed, keep on
with the work. Remember we 've got to save
Flynn's life -yes, and save the cattle, too."
The men at once ran out of the depot, Fred
and Bob leading all the rest.
"Now, I must save No. 14 !" said Tom to
himself. "I '11 have to keep the west-bound
track clear, and then switch No. 14 on to it at
Lewistown."
With steady fingers he grasped the telegraph-
key, and this message flew along the wire:

Operator, Mount Vernon: Flag special train of gen-
eral manager, and tell him to wait for orders. T. M.

Back came the inquiry:

T. M., Wayville: Who has right to stop special? Track
has been cleared for the general manager's train. By
whose orders shall I tell him he has been flagged ?

It was no time to stick at trifles or to make
explanations, so Tom flashed back the answer:

By orders of President of the U. S. R. R.,per T. M.

K.," answered Mount Vernon, as a sign
that the order was understood and would be
obeyed.
"Now, to get 14 switched from the east- to
the west-bound track! There is just a chance."
Again he touched the key.

Operator, Lewistown: Turn cross-over switch at your
station; transfer passenger-train No. 14 from east- to
west-bound track, and hold her there until released. T. M.

Then the key ticked in reply:

T. M., Wayville: Track has been cleared for special
of general manager. His train approaching from east
with regular orders giving right of way. Make your or-
der more definite, and give authority.

As before, Tom was ready and answered:

Operator, Lewistown: President of U. S. R. R. Co.
does not have to show authority. Carry out the orders
at once. Important. T. M.

O. K.," ticked back the reply.
"Now," said Tom to himself, i I can only


delay the engine until 14 gets across on the
other track, everything will be all right. The
poor horses and cattle will have to take their
chances. Let's see-- 14 has been gone fifteen
minutes; she is due at Lewistown in thirty
minutes. The runaway engine will be here in
about five minutes, unless her speed is reduced;
the passenger-train will be overtaken about five
miles this side of Lewistown. There is only
one hope now. I must risk it."
Just then the ticket-agent, hearing the men
hurrying about, had come down-stairs and
asked the trouble. As briefly as he could,
Tom told him the situation, and then said:
"Mr. Lenox, I 'm going to climb into the
runaway engine, if it's a possible thing, and
check her up. I 've five dollars or so here.
Take it and, if I 'm hurt, give it to my mother.
Tell her I was going to get her a Christmas
present, and tell her I know that she would
tell me to do just what I 'm going to do. God
bless her! If I come out all right-and there
is a chance-don't ever let her know what I
did. Promise, quick! "
Don't think of such a thing, Tom," pleaded
the agent. "Why, it 's suicide! If you can
slow down the engine, when you get aboard,
the rear section will run into you and crush you.
If you can't, you are sure to run into the pas-
senger-train and die in the collision. In this
fog, even if you get control of the engine-
and I doubt if you can -you cannot tell what
second you will be upon the passenger-train, or
what second the other. section will be upon
you. You are the only support of your mother.
Just as likely as not, you will be killed in your
attempt to get on the engine. No one ever
got on an engine going as fast as this one is;
why, to try it is worse than suicide! Then
the engine might blow up. You must not
attempt it! "
It 's all very true, Mr. Lenox; but it 's bet-
ter to try, even if I fail, when so many lives will
be lost unless an effort is made to save them.
I am going to do all I can, and as for mother
-why, God bless her! Good-by. I must get
out on the platform to be ready."
Good-by, and heaven help you, Tom," re-
plied Mr. Lenox.
Before going out, Tom took off his well-






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


worn overcoat and jacket, tightened up his
belt, and prepared to run the race of his life.
He then went out to the platform and found
that the men had oiled the track thoroughly for
several hundred yards. He did not dare tell
them of his purpose for fear that they would
stop him; but he said to Bob, "After the en-
gine passes, get all the men you can at work,-
more are coming every minute,- put on all the
oil you can, and tallow, but be careful to see
that there is nothing to make the cars jump the
track, for that will kill all the cattle and horses,
andperhaps poor Jack
Flynn! He was seen
clinging to the last car
at Rockville. But he
dared not climb up or
jump off, it seems, on
account of the speed
of the train. There
she comes now-I
can hear her! I '11
run up to the other .
end of the platform
to meet her."
The engine could
be heard thundering
down the track long
before she could be
seen coming through
the fog. Tom was at
the far end of the
depot where the men
had first begun to
apply the oil and
grease; and, as they
had worked back, he
was in a position to
get all the benefit of
the loss of speed in
consequence. The
men flew back from
the track. When the O
"HE OPENED WIDE
engine struck the oiled
rails she trembled, and her wheels slipped rather
than revolved along the track. The momentum
was so great that at first the speed was scarcely
affected; but as successive sections of track were
passed, there began to be quite a marked reduc-
tion in speed. Tom noticed this with joy.


The engine was coming rapidly toward him.
He turned and ran along the platform in the
same direction as the engine, at a speed that
would have carried him fifty yards in about six
seconds. The engine gained on him, and, just
as the step was passing, he reached up, grasped
the handles, and swung himself up on the step.
He rested there for a few seconds, and then
climbed slowly up into the cab. His face was
as white as the card on the steam-gauge, and,
in spite of the cold wind that blew upon him,
he was dripping with perspiration.


THE FURNACE DOORS, AND THREW IN THE COAL."

Tom glanced up at the gauge, and saw that
the supply of steam was being rapidly ex-
hausted, and, to his horror, he understood that
the engine was running by its own inertia
down the steep grade. He closed the throttle,
set the leverone notch on the reverse side, and


















...
I
^ ^ x '^ ''"" '-*'

g f

? .. S

i s i -
-x^
,


57\ N
* -.. ~ a'..:)


*. -4:-


91: ~rr r;-: !:!;:,
~ -*i`'~
-- .~-
; ~. ~;
~-'~ e
r
~r P
~ I
r


r'
-. : .- 4.t-_li.
- .-_
-t *1






V-f


V --v
& A .


:--y ,- ,- ,
'^-^ 3


41* -. --i


"'IT 'S A RACE FOR LIFE, AND I OUGHT TO WIN! '"


'1a.


i
:'.s
I''.1

~i",~

u~- ;~-


'A






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


then tried the air-brake. It worked in a feeble
way, but checked the engine a trifle. He found
that in order to gain control of the engine he
must get up more steam, and get the air-pump
running.
Tom slowly crept along the flying engine
over the tender, and was pleased to find that
there was plenty of water in the tank. Being
as strong a young fellow of fifteen years as one
often sees, he had no trouble in getting up a
brisk fire. He then went back to the engine,
and was gratified to see the steam was rapidly
coming up. There was no thought of fear in
the brave boy, but he did not forget that he was
"between two fires." He must keep his own
engine from running into the passenger-train,
and he must keep ahead and out of the way
of the runaway section. Anxiously he peered
out into the fog, but he could see nothing of
the train he was pursuing, and could hear no-
thing of the train that was pursuing him. On
sped the flying steed of steel; and still the
pointer on the steam-gauge. moved slowly up-
ward. Twenty pounds more pressure, and he
felt that he would have complete control of the
engine. He was using but little steam now-
only enough to try the air-pump now and then.
In a few moments he moved back the lever an-
other notch toward the reverse, and cautiously
pulled out the throttle a little. The effect was
good, and he knew that he was gaining control
of the engine;. but how she flew along over
culvert, bridge, and trestle, like a thing of life
on a wild holiday!
Out came the throttle. a little farther, and
back went the lever another notch. The engine
was running slower. "By reversing her and
putting on the emergency air,'" Tom said to
himself, I can now stop her in three or four
lengths. It would be a bad thing to do, but I '11
do it if I have to." He looked up at the clock.
" In five minutes more No. 14 will have passed
to the other track and the switch will be closed.
I '11 slow up a bit "; and so.he did.
The engine promptly responded, and settled
down to a forty-mile gait. Tom, with his head
far out of the window, with one hand on the
throttle and the other on the air-lever, tried to
pierce the mist with those bright dark eyes, but
in vain. Boom! and a torpedo exploded under


the wheels. "No. 14 has stopped-to switch!"
said Tom. Boom! boom! Again came the
warning torpedoes. "'Run slowly, with the
engine under full control'; that 's what those
mean." Suddenly Tom's attention was called
to a thundering sound from the rear.
It's the broken section coming like a whirl-
wind. Now I 'm in for it. If she will hold off
for two minutes I '11 be all right." Tom threw
the lever full ahead, and opened the throttle;
the engine seemed to leap forward. In a
minute more he caught just a glimpse of the
rear lights on the passenger-train, and knew that
a minute later he would be upon her. Nearer
came the thundering roar behind him, and he
dared not look back. The light in front
swerved to the left. Would the switch be
closed in time for him to keep ahead of the
pursuing section ? was the question which flew
through his brain. His engine was at the
switch, and it had just been replaced! "Thank
God for that!" was the brief prayer he mur-
mured. "The passenger-train is safe, if my
orders have been carried out. Now to savemy-
self, and the cattle behind me. It 's a race
for life, and I ought to win !"
A tangent* of twelve miles lay straight before
him, with a gently descending grade, then a
mile level, and then a four-mile up-grade into
Mount Vernon. Once more he crept down into
the tender, opened wide the furnace -doors,
raked the fire, and threw in the coal evenly
over every part of the great fire-box. He left
the ash-pit door open for better draft, and
then climbed upon the coal to see if he could
distinguish his relentless pursuer. The light
had begun to dispel the fog, and three hundred
feet away he could see the on-coming train. It
will take all the speed she 's got," he thought,
and leaving the tender he crept back into the
cab.
He opened the throttle wide, pushing the
lever over forward as far as it would go. The
steam kept up, and the only thing to fear was
that the axle-boxes would get heated on ac-
count of the frightful speed of the engine; but
then he reflected that the pace would tell on
the freight-axles even more, -since they were
not geared to so high a speed as were those
of the locomotive.


t A section of track without a curve.


VOL. XXII.--14.






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


The engine was now going at the rate of a
mile a minute, or faster. More coal was neces-
sary, and he resolved to leave the window and
stand by the furnace. In ten minutes the level
was struck, and the pursuer had gained two
hundred feet, on account of its greater weight;
a minute later the up-grade was reached. More
coal was needed, and the shovel was kept busy
feeding the fiery mouth whose tongues of flame
seemed never to be satisfied. As the engine
began the ascent of the up-grade, the freight
section was only fifty feet away. After a mile
on the grade, the locomotive pulled slowly
away from the freight. Then Tom closed the
ash-pit door, went back to the window, closed
the throttle a little, tried the air-brakes, and
three minutes later pulled into the depot at
Mount Vernon, and came to a stop. He looked
out of the window, perched high in air, and
said to the operator: "Just wire Wayville that
engine 303 has arrived here safely, and that
Tom 's all right."
The crowd of people who were on the plat-
form surrounding the general manager's spe-
'-cial car looked with amazement on the young
engineer seated in the cab of the smoking
engine. The general manager himself was not
pleased at the sight, nor at the "unaccount-
able delay caused by some drunken opera-
tor," as he thought, who had imagined that he
was the president of the road. He had not
yielded with the best grace to the order stop-
ping his train, and would not have heeded it
but for the information that the same person
had ordered the east-bound passenger-train
over to the west-bound track, and his order
had been obeyed, thus blocking the way. This
passenger-train might now pull in at any min-
ute. The operator could not get any reply
from Wayville, to find but about the order.
Well, young man," said the manager, what
are you doing up in that engine ? Don't you
know it's against orders? Where are the engi-
neer and fireman ? It makes no difference-
they are discharged. Get down out of there!
Where did you steal the engine?"
Tom could say nothing, but he did not mqve.
Be lively there," continued the manager
in a rage. Officer, arrest that boy for steal-
ing the engine!"


"Grandpa, give him a chance to explain,"
said a young girl who stood near the angry
official. "He does n't look as if he had stolen
anything," she continued.
I '11 attend to him, Mary. He will have a
chance to explain in court! "
"Please don't have him arrested," pleaded
the young girl-and she seemed to be the only
one who dared address her grandfather.
"My dear child, you don't understand these
matters. Officer, get this fellow out of there.
The engine looks as if it had been badly
used."
The officer climbed up into the cab, and
roughly shook Tom by the shoulder. Tom
seemed dazed. What a fate, after all he had
braved and done-to be received, instead of
with thanks and praise, with threats of arrest
and imprisonment!
"Come, get out of here -lively," said the
officious policeman, anxious to show his au-
thority before so high an official as the general
manager of the U. S. R. R. Co. "You look
to me like a pretty tough customer."
This roused Tom's ire.
Don't touch me, please; I '11 get down my-
self. I want to say just a word to Mr. Holmes."
He walked up to that official and said, "I did
not steal your engine, and -"
"I don't care to hear any talk," said the
manager.
I don't care to talk, either," said Tom, "but
you 'd better send the engine back to the
grade, and see what's become of Jack Flynn.
He was clinging to the rear car of a runaway
section of train No. 33."
"What do you say?-the train broken in
two ? Where did it happen ?" asked Mr. Holmes,
all interest at once.
"At Cantwell; the train broke in two places,
coming down the grade. The engine was struck
by the flying center-section, hurling the engine
crew off, and starting the engine the other way.
I climbed on the runaway engine at Wayville,
and brought her here. The rest of the train is
back about two miles -unless she has run back
down to the level."
"That 's a pretty story. How did you pass
No. 14?" asked the manager sternly, after
thinking a moment.






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


She was switched to the 'west-bound track
at Lewistown," answered Tom.
Tell the engineer and fireman on 39 to get
up in this engine and run her back," said the
manager to the conductor. Officer, you bring
the boy along, and I '11 go with you. If his
story is true, he can go; but. if not, it will be all
the harder for him."
The trainmen soon had the engine oiled up,
finding it was none the worse for its fast run
and that Tom had left everything in shipshape
order. After backing down about two miles, a
man was seen running up the track. As the
engine came nearer, Tom cried out, It's Jack
Flynn he 's all right! "
Sure enough it was Flynn, but he was picked
up more dead than alive. No one had ever
taken or perhaps will ever take a ride like his.
Briefly he told the story of the breaking of the
train into three parts-an unheard-of thing,
almost. He had been on the center section,
alone; he had tried to apply the brakes, but
the section he was on collided with the first
section. He was thrown down on the top of a
car, but had retained his senses enough to
cling on. Then he had attempted to climb
down on the last car, and drop off; but the
speed had been so great that he knew the fall
would be fatal, and so he had clung to the
rear car, expecting death at any moment. But
the train came to an up-grade, and speed had
been so reduced that he managed to climb up
and set two of the brakes, but then he had to
stop. The train gained in speed as it passed
the down-grade, and he was glad to climb back
again to his old place at the rear of the last car.
Next the brakes had parted, and it seemed as if
he were rushing to swift destruction. At last,
the up-grade being reached, the cars lost speed;
he could then have stepped off, but he re-
solved to stay on until the train stopped, be-
cause it was his duty. Just before the cars
started to run back to the level, he had dragged
a tie across the track and held the section.
You can 'lay off' until New Year's day," said
Mr. Holmes, after Flynn had finished his story.
The engine had by this time stopped in front
of the section of the stock-train. The cars were
coupled on, and a few minutes later the whole
train pulled into the depot at Mount Vernon.


The officer by this time had concluded not to
put the handcuffs on Tom.
Officer, you can let that boy go," gruffly
ordered Mr. Holmes. "Who are you?" he
asked Tom.
"I am Thomas Martin's son," he answered;
"he used to run the engine of your special-39."
I thought I had seen you before. Go into
my car and get warm. I see you'have neither
coat nor overcoat on, and this is a pretty cold
day. Mary, get my overcoat and put it on
that boy as soon as you can, and see that he
gets a warm place; he is nearly frozen." Tom
was a little abashed as he walked into the mag-
nificent private car of the general manager,
escorted by that official's granddaughter. But
he was soon at ease, and warmly wrapped in a
big ulster.
Mr. Holmes went into the telegraph office,
and directed that the passenger-train held at
Lewistown should be switched back to its own
track and started on its way.
He asked the operator at Wayville who had
sent from that office the messages stopping his
train, and by whose orders. No one at Way-
ville was in the office when the despatches were
sent, and no copy of the messages could be
found. The operator had been greasing the
track, and had supposed Tom was similarly
employed, as on account of the fog he could
not tell the men apart.
"That's very strange," muttered Mr. Holmes,
as he entered his car and signaled the engineer
to go ahead. He was an honest, high-princi-
pled man, quick in his methods--the first to
see a wrong, the first to right it. He was
stern in all his dealings with his men, but he
was also just, and they all respected him. He
came back to where Tom was seated and said:
"Well, my young engineer, how are you com-
ing on, and where do you want to get off?"
I 'm all right, and I want to get off at Way-
ville. The mail must be at the station, and I
have to take it over to town."
"George," said Mr. Holmes to his son, who
was the train-master of the road. "Do you
happen to remember where the president is
to-day? "
I think he is in New York."
"Well, I wonder who sent these messages,"






PRESIDENT FOR ONE HOUR.


said Mr. Holmes, handing them over to his
son.
Tom flushed, but said nothing.
"They were sent from Wayville, by some
man who must have had the running of the
trains at his fingers' ends. A train-despatcher
could have done no better. I don't know of
any man at Wayville who could do it. Do
you, Tom?" asked the train-master.
Well, I don't think it was very much of a
thing, only a fellow had to think pretty quick."
Did you do it? asked the general man-
ager suddenly.
"Yes, sir, I did."
"You sent the messages ?"
"Yes, sir."
Are you -besides being a fireman and an
engineer a train-despatcher and operator ? "
"And president for an hour," chimed in
Mary.
"Yes, sir; I plead guilty to all. But I was
only acting president," said Tom.
"How dared you do such a thing ?" asked
Mr. Holmes.
I dared do anything that would save human
life. If some one had not dared, what would
have happened ? There was but one thing to
do, and I did the best I could."
"You are not working for the company?"
No, sir."
*" Would you like to be? "
"Yes, sir."
George, you see that Tom Martin is put on
the rolls at $5o.00 a month, as messenger in
the general manager's office. His salary be-
gan on December first, and he reports for duty
on January second."
"Thank you, sir," said Tom heartily.

When the train pulled in at Wayville, there
was a large crowd at the depot; and Tom was
greeted with cheers as he stepped from the
private car. He immediately threw the mail-
pouches into the hand-cart that was standing
near, and, without saying a word, started to ful-
fil his duty. Duty was first with him.
The general manager and his guests got off
the train, and, mingling with the crowd, soon
learned all that Tom had done in saving the
train. They also learned, as they had already


guessed, that he was brave, honest, and gen-
erous.
The story of his father's death and the strug-
gle of Tom and his mother to save their little
home, found many listeners.
In the depot, Mr. Lenox, the ticket-agent,
was telling Mr. Holmes the whole story over
again--of the money Tom had saved to buy
a present for his mother, of his last request
as he started for the flying engine. Tears stood
in both men's eyes as the recital was finished.
"Saved hundreds of lives, and thousands of
dollars, by his practical knowledge. A wide-
awake boy fearless and true; risked his own
life a thorough American boy. I like him,"
said the general manager to the agent, in his
crisp, short way.
Then the special train pulled out of the
depot, but Tom was not forgotten by its pas-
sengers, as the sequel will show.
Christmas day dawned bright and fair on all
the world, yet there was a peculiar brightness
and happiness around Tom Martin's home.
Tom had purchased a rocking-chair for his
mother with the money he had earned, and
was contented with the past and hopeful for
the future.
At ten o'clock Doc" Wise, the express-mes-
senger, delivered a large box at Widow Martin's
home, and Tom, with all the curiosity of a wide-
awake boy, soon had it open. There was a
beautiful cloak from Mrs. Holmes for his mo-
ther; there was an overcoat and a suit of clothes
for Tom, given by George Holmes. There was
a gold watch from the general manager, bearing
the inscription: "He risked his life for others.
December 24, 1891." Then there was a check
to pay off the mortgage, from Mr. Holmes and
his guests. Last of all in a pretty frame was a
little painting of the runaway engine, No. 303,
on which Tom had taken his momentous ride.
On the back of the picture was this inscription:
" Be always brave and true, and you may in-
deed be president. Mary Holmes." Of all
the presents, Tom liked this one best.
In the evening came the men from the depot,
bearing various gifts. It was a fit crowning of
a happy day for Tom, because of the knowledge
that he had the affection and respect of the men
and boys who had known him always.


IO8














Dr7 DOMI lNI -

ro s tj

BY VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.

Si 'M going to see-" the Dominie said,
With a nod of his gray, sagacious
head
STo a path that wound from the hill-
~side down
S Away to a far-off seaport town -


"To see and he nodded, and off he went,
His hands behind and his wise head bent,
And a far-seeing look in his kind blue eyes
Fixed on some marvelous enterprise.

"To sea!" cried his wife from the trellised door.
"Was ever a man so queer before -
To start on a voyage as sudden as that,
In his every-day coat and his garden hat ?


" Or ever a faithful, painstaking wife
As worried as I each day of my life,
To know what he may do next? Alack!
Dominie Brown, come back! Come back/"


But in vain she called, and in vain she ran;
The long-limbed Dominie, excellent man,
Was up the road that led to the hill,
Striding along with a right good will.

So the provident wife, who knew his ways,
Sped back, in a state of sore amaze,
For his three-cornered hat, and his long-tailed
coat,
And a silken scarf to envelop his throat,

And his flowered waistcoat, and breeches
blue,
And a ribbon black for the end of his queue,
And his silver buckles and gold-headed
stick,
And his slippers thin, and his gaiters thick,


nm ii

A( I


:" j'il~2




~i~;
21 a
'
.r
;P

'WI'' '
i i I


U,~.L,


--r.

r~
a






HOW THE DOMINIE WENT TO SEA.


And his powder-horn, and his musket new,
And lastly she added his field-glass too;
"Because," this provident wife quoth she,
"In foreign lands there is much to see!"


Then she sped through the village and over
the road,
While far in the distance the Dominie strode,
And to every one questioning thus cried she,
"The Dominie says he is going to sea/"


So straightway the Innkeeper after her ran,
And so did the Beadle and Penny-bun Man,
The Piper and Fiddler, still playing a jig,
And the Clerk with his pen and his gown
and his wig,


II0


5/~ f~~-jt~






HOW THE DOMINIE WENT TO SEA.


r II,,
I;,,
_
..':


The Doctor, a-riding his old gray nag,
Came jogging along with his saddle-bag,
And the Miller, too, stopped his wheel and
he sped
With his dusty hat on his floury head;


While, after each one there hurried his wife,
All of them running as if for life,
Exclaiming, If Dominie 's going to sea,
He has much of importance to say to me!"


So they went round the hill by the winding
road,
While out of their sight the Dominie strode,
For they said, "We will meet where the
path leads down,
And he takes the highway for yonder town!"


And to every one questioning thus cried they,
" The Dominie 's going to sea, this day!"
Till all with important excitement rife
Went hurrying after the Dominie's wife.

But though they scrambled and though they
ran-
To the path where the broad highway began,
There was not a sign of Dominie Brown
On the way which led to the seaport town!


They waited and wondered and shaded their
eyes
Till the sun lay low in the western skies;
Then every one said it was easy to see
That so notably wise a man as he,






HOW THE DOMINIE WENT TO SEA.


Taking a voyage as sudden as strange
To give his loftiest ideas range,
Would choose his own road, and even now
Was doubtless a-sail at some brave ship's
prow!

So back as they came, with wonderment rife,
They followed the Dominie's provident wife
Bewailing a husband who traveled like that
In his every-day coat and his garden hat!

Back where the Dominie's lands begun
They bore her company every one,
Condoling her care and her desolate state,
Till they came in sight of her garden gate.


N-. --





And there, serenely shading his eyes,
With a questioning look of pleased surprise,
Stood Dominie Brown for all to see.
" Now welcome to you, kind friends !" quoth he.

"So fine a season it is for a stroll,
I too have refreshed my body and soul,
And have been to see "-he nodded his head
To the hill round which they late had sped-


112






1894.] HOW THE DOMINIE WENT TO SEA. 113

" To see if yon path, if I followed it straight, But nobody smiled and nobody stirred;
Would bring me around to my garden gate. Only the Dominie's wife was heard,
And it did!" The Dominie nodded and Her eyes they flashed and she spake most
smiled, true-
While contentment shone in his blue eyes mild. One never knows what such a man will do!"


VOL. XXII.- 5 16.












A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.

By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.


[Begun in the November number.]
CHAPTER III.
THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR.
HE found out speedily. As they passed
from the Street of the Washerwomen into the
Street of the Night Patrol, and so on beside
the ruins of the great castle, Philip thought
they were taking him to the office of the chief
of police in the splendid City Hall; but, pass-
ing the Square of the River Beach, upon which
faced the stated front of the City Hall, the
boy's conductors pushed ahead without stop-
ping, cut across into the long Street of the
Temple, and as before them loomed the four
gray turrets and the great central tower, Philip
knew his destination to be the gloomy old
Temple itself--the death-chamber of knights
and kings.
"Come, now, this is pleasant!" he said to
himself, wondering why they should take him
there. "What am I, then? He who picks a
pocket or steals a ride is surely too small game
for the Temple. It is there they take traitors
and assassins. And, surely, I am neither."
So, wondering still, he passed through the
frowning gateway of the Temple, and speedily
stood within one of the "examination cham-
bers," in which were gathered certain men,
some in uniform and some in citizen's dress.
Then, indeed, did Philip give a start of
surprise, and fathom the reason for his forced
march; for among those gathered in the exami-
nation chamber he recognized at once "the
three rascally ones whom, in the wine-shop of
Citizen Popon, he had heard conspiring against
the Emperor.
The boy was confronted with the men, and
swore to their identity without hesitation. He
could never have forgotten them. His testi-
mony was almost unnecessary; for, so cleverly
had they, with the "man from England," been


entrapped upon the wharf of the Tower that
the police had a clear case against them from
the start. But Philip's evidence was the con-
necting link, and the would-be assassins of the
Emperor came to speedy punishment. They
simply "disappeared," so the record says; but
that means a swift and secret punishment.
And that is all we hear of the conspiracy of
Louis Loizeau, "the man from England,"
whose plotting this boy of ten so cleverly
brought to naught.
And, his evidence given, the boy of ten came
quickly into his reward. Under the guidance
of an officer from the central police, he. visited
the shops in the straggling arcades of the old
Temple market, and came out a new boy-
clean, clothed, and almost a stranger to himself,
fit to call on the king.
Such a call was, evidently, next on the pro-
gram; for soon a cab was whirling him, with
many a twist and turn, through broad boulevard
and narrow street, and so across the Seine into the
open country and the smiling park of St. Cloud.
This time he did not loiter under the great
chestnut-trees, nor was he handed over to the
clerk of the kitchen, nor left in the "scullion's
quarters." Straight to the noble palace he was
driven, and then, under the guidance of Con-
stant, the Emperor's body-servant, he was led
to the private apartments in the great palace of
St. Cloud. And there, once more, he saw the
Emperor.
Before a closed door the valet stopped and
rapped. Then he flung it open and announced:
"The boy from Paris, Sire."
Not in royal robes, nor yet in the glittering
uniform of the chief soldier of France, did the
boy from Paris, find the Emperor. He simply
saw "Uncle Bibiche" once more! For there,
pacing up and down the room, head bent and
hands clasped behind his back, as if in thought,
walked the short, stout man in a simple uni-






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


form. And strutting after him, almost on his
heels, came the little four-year-old antelope-
rider, with the Emperor's famous little chapeau
covering his curly head, and the Emperor's ter-
rible sword of Marengo trailing on the floor
behind him.
The "boy from Paris" entered the room.
The Emperor looked up and, with a smile of
surprise at the boy's altered appearance, ex-
claimed: "But not our dirty boy, little one!
Our prince of the sans-culottes looks as fine as
a fiddler, does he not? How is it, son of the
imigred Is the mud prince on the road to
being a gold prince?"
Even Philip's uncomfortableness in his new
clothes-an uncomfortableness that was almost
an imprisonment after the liberty of rags, and
that made him feel, as he expressed it, "all
hands and feet"-could not keep back the
laugh that sprang from his quick sense of the
ridiculous, at sight of Uncle Bibiche and the
little caricature at his heels, bearing the famous
hat and sword. But he collected himself speed-
ily, and replied to the imperial funningg."
"I am come, Sire," he said, "because they
sent me here. I thank you for my fine clothes."
"As I thank you for your open ears, mud
prince," responded the Emperor, giving to the
boy's ear the pinch that was always the sign
of Napoleon's good humor. "They may have
saved my life, these ears; though you will live
to learn that it is one thing to plot and another
to do. And what now-would you still wish
to go for a soldier ? "
If the Emperor will," the boy replied.
"So, that is what you told Babette. And
how is Babette ? the Emperor asked.
"Weeping sorely, Sire, because the policeman
carried me off, just when I had knocked down
that pig of a Pierre for calling me a pick-
pocket."
Ah, then you left the Street of the Washer-
women in disgrace, you boy ? So! Then shall
you go back there in glory. But not to stay
there. Son of the 6migrd Desnouettes, I will
make you a soldier of France."
Overjoyed at this sudden coming true of his
fondest dream, Philip fairly flung himself at the
feet of the Emperor in a transport of joy, where-
upon little Prince Napoleon, thinking the boy


from Paris was there for his pleasure, danced
about and said:
"Sing 'Zig-zag' again, Dirty Boy. Sing
'Zig-zag' again."
Philip struggled to his feet. "Shall I, Sire?"
and Napoleon nodded assent.
Then around and around the room the boy
and the baby capered, for thus could Philip best
work off his excess of rapture. And, as they
capered, they sang again the chorus:

"Zig-zag; rig-a-doon,
Dance away to the drumstick's tune!"
Suddenly Philip stopped.
"And Babette, Sire ? he inquired.
"Well-what of Babette?" said the Em-
peror. She may not go as a soldier."
No, Sire. But I can look after her no more
if I march away, and Mother Th6rese is a
wicked one. And the Street of the Washerwo-
men is not for such as Babette. And the Em-
peror can do all things."
Not all things. But this he can do. He
can send you to school, and.then make you a
soldier. He can send Babette to school, and
then make her a lady or one fit to be a lady.
She must not disgrace the prince, her champion.
She, too, shall-go to school."
Again Philip could not restrain himself; and,
in excess of joy, hugged his friend, the little
prince, who still clung to his hand.
"And-am I to go now, Sire?" he asked,
after a moment.
"It is never too early to begin the making
of a soldier of France," the Emperor said. Then
he clapped his hands, and Constant entered
quickly.
Constant," the Emperor said, find Mon-
sieur Meneval. Bid him meet me in my
cabinet."
Then the Emperor left the two boys alone,
and Philip told the little prince stories of Ba-
bette and the boys of the washerwomen's quar-
ter, while the little prince recited for Philip one
of La Fontaine's fables, many of which the
bright little fellow knew by heart.
But before he had gone through "King
Log," Constant appeared again, and Philip was
taken to the Emperor. With him was an officer
of the household.






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


-.

"THE EMPEROR'S FAMOUS CHAPEAU COVERING HIS CURLY HEAD, AND THE EMPEROR'S 'SWORD OF MARENGO'
TRAILING ON THE FLOOR BEHIND HIM."


Go with Monsieur my secretary, young
Desnouettes. He will conduct you to the Street
of the Washerwomen, and change disgrace to
honor. He will see to Babette. He will place
you in the military school of Fontainebleau,
now transferred to St. Cyr. There shall you
learn a soldier's first duty-obedience; a sol-
dier's single watchword--loyalty. Be studious,
be attentive, he obedient, be loyal, be honor-
able, son of the emigre' Desnouettes, and your
future may be a brilliant one. I shall hear of
you. Farewell."
He motioned the lad out, but ere the boy
turned to go, he stammered out words full of
joy and thankfulness. "Sire," he said, "you
shall hear of me. I will be true, and-thank
you for Babette."
Then he followed Monsieur the secretary,
and was soon speeding away with him in one
of the household carriages, on the panel of
which was emblazoned the imperial N.
Straight to the dirty Street of the Washerwo-
men the carriage sped. And what a time there
was in that dark and narrow quarter of the old


city when the carriage drew up before the little
coped fountain where "that pig of a Pierre"
had shaken the fist of derision and contempt!
And when from the carriage stepped the boy
in his new suit, with Monsieur, the Emperor's
secretary, and Monsieur, the deputy mayor of
the section (the alderman of the ward, as one
might say), following after, then how the peo-
ple stared!
And when Monsieur the deputy mayor in a
loud voice announced that for gallant action
and for loyal deed his imperial majesty the
Emperor took into his service Philip the son
of the emigrant Desnouettes, how the people
cheered; and Mother Th6erse, that foxy old
tyrant, "blessed the boy," and did not see how
she could spare him, and took the purse of
money the Emperor sent her, while that pig
of a Pierre over the way" turned so green with
envy that Philip really felt sorry for him.
- And how little Babette laughed and cried in
the same breath when Philip told her the Em-
peror had heard about her and meant to make
a lady of her!


116


yz






1894.] A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE. I I7
So it was soon over, for all the world like good leg of flesh on the bloody field of Auster-
some wonderful fairy tale, and Philip Des- litz, and, pensioned by the Emperor, had been
nouettes, son of the imigrd, bound boy of the made one of the drill-sergeants in St. Cyr
washerwomen's quarter, prot6g6 of the Em- school.
peror, turned his back upon the narrow and To Peyrolles the Emperor was not a man, he
dirty street he had once called his home, and, was "the Emperor"; and Peyrolles worshiped
riding away from the past, was entered as a him even as did the Romans of old worship
pupil in the military school of St. Cyr. their highest and bravest as something more
From the day when, as a new boy, he was than mortal. And yet the boys at St. Cyr
introduced into the new school of St. Cyr, and declared that but for Peyrolles the Emperor
was gradually transformed from an uncouth would never have been; for it was Peyrolles's
street-boy to a little machine, to the day when, delight to recount for the boys of St. Cyr how
four years later, he left it for other scenes, "I and the Emperor" conquered the world!
Philip Desnouettes's life was
one of continuous training. He
got up by the drum, he ate his
meals by the drum, he went
to bed by the drum. He learned
to drill, to ride, and to build
fortifications; he received in-
struction in languages, litera-
ture, history, and mathematics;
he toughened without fires, de-
veloped by austere discipline,
lived by rule, played pranks
and took his punishment as he --
did his medicine without
grumbling, grew, strengthened,
broadened in mind and body,
learned to be a French school-
boy, a French soldier, a French
gentleman.
Then came 181o. Great
things had been happening -
while Philip was a school-boy
at St. Cyr. The map of Europe
had been changed again and
again, and Napoleon was the
map-maker. There had been
wars and rumors of war; there
had been mighty marches,
bloody battles, terrible triumphs;
and with march and battle and
triumph the fame of Napoleon,
Emperor of the French, had CADET DESNOUETTES AND CORPORAL PEYROLLES.-" 'BE A SOLDIER OF FRANCE!'
grown to mighty proportions.
In 181o France and Napoleon were the great- But it was largely by TPeyrolles's friendly
est names in all the world. And Philip had promptings, plus the instruction of the St. Cyr
met Corporal Peyrolles. school, that Philip became proficient in drill
Peyrolles, the wooden-legged, had left his and ambitious of glory. And when, even be-






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


fore the allotted term of training, the summons
came to "the cadet Desnouettes" to attend
upon the Emperor, the boy felt that both fame
and glory lay well within his grasp.
But Peyrolles said, "See what it is to have
Corporal Peyrolles for your friend, cadet. Do
you think it is because your sharp ears served
the Emperor, when you were but a boy of the
streets, that he now calls you to his side, even
before your military schooling is done? Not
so. It is because of me. It is because Pey-
rolles has had you in hand. The Emperor has
heard of it. He bids you come to him that you
may show others in his service what it is to be
tutored in arms by the man who helped the
Emperor to win the day at Arcola and Lodi, at
Castiglione and the Pyramids, at Marengo and
Ulm and Austerlitz. Long live the Emperor,
and long live Peyrolles, his right hand! Do
not disgrace my teaching. You are but an in-
fant yet, cadet. But so were we all once, and
even a child can be brave. Listen, you cadet:
rush not rashly into danger, but, once in, do
not back out. Strike not until you can strike
swift and sure. Obey, and you shall be obeyed;
follow, and you shall be followed; seek glory,
and glory shall seek you. Be a soldier of France,
and France shall be proud of her soldier, and shall
say to the world: Behold, this cadet was a pu-
pil of Peyrolles of St. Cyr, grenadier and helper
of the Emperor!' "
So Philip left St. Cyr and reported at the
Tuileries, that noble old palace in the city,
whose story is interwoven with that of France's
ups and downs through fully three hundred
years.
And in Napoleon's private study, beyond the
Diana Gallery and next to the Blue Room,
Philip once more saluted the Emperor.
"So, it is young Desnouettes, the boy with
the good ears," was the Emperor's greeting.
" Have both eyes and ears served you well at
St. Cyr, you cadet ? You look a little soldier
already. Are you prepared to march and to
fight?"
"Yes, Sire--for the Emperor," the boy re-
plied shrewdly.
Good"; and Napoleon pulled the cadet's
hair good-humoredly. "But these are no
longer days of blood. The empire is at peace.


I have sent for you to serve here at court.
Take your orders from the Baron de Meneval.
From this day you are a page of the palace."

CHAPTER IV. *
THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY.
IT was a new life into which this imperial
appointment plunged the active boy of four-
teen. It was discipline, and yet it was delight-
ful; it was slavery, and yet it was splendor;
there was labor to tire both feet and brain;
there were long hours of monotony, but many
opportunities for pranks and frolics. It was run
here and run there; it was do this and do that;
it was not soldiering, and yet it had its conflicts;
it was not a call for courage, and yet it was
duty joined to temptation and tried by oppor-
tunity. The life of a page of the palace was
not all play, though passed in the midst of
splendor; nor was it all dignity, though spent in
a constant round of fete and ceremonial.
And into fete and ceremonial young Philip
Desnouettes was speedily introduced. It was
the year 18o1. In that year Napoleon the
Emperor married the Archduchess of Austria.
The son of a poor Corsican lawyer wedded the
daughter of the Austrian Casars. It was a
year of brilliancy, of excitement, of restless
rounds of display and constant repetitions of
marvelous entertainments.
Never was a boy of fourteen surrounded
by more of glitter, or permitted to be a part
of more royal goings on." All this might ruin
a boy of weak nature; but Philip was blessed
with a cool head, a well-balanced mind, and
much common sense. He had "cut his wis-
dom-teeth as a street-boy of Paris; he had
learned discipline in the school of St. Cyr; and
so, though often sorely tried and many a time
in scrapes and in disgrace, he was too manly a
fellow to "lose his head," and so he was really
developed as well by the temptations as by the
duties that filled his daily life in those most
brilliant surroundings-the court of the First
Empire.
As page of the palace, he was on duty both
at the splendid Tuileries and at beautiful St.
Cloud. And through the month of March
there was enough going on in both these great






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


palaces to tire any ordinary boy, and keep his
head a-whirl with bewilderment. For then it
was that Paris and the palaces were making
ready for the reception of the new mistress of
France, the girl Empress, Marie Louise of
Austria.
Philip could not understand it all. Austria
had been "a red rag" to every French boy
since the days of Marie Antoinette. And, at
St. Cyr, Philip had been brought up to hate the
Austrians, with whom the Emperor was so often
at war, and whom three times he had faced and
conquered.
"I would like to know what Peyrolles thinks
of this," he often said to himself. "The Em-
peror marry an Austrian ? Well, for one, I can't
see through it! "
But what of that ? No boy of fourteen gives
much thought to political right or wrong, or
to the policy of kings and cabinets. Only the
events that bring him opportunity, or the doings
that mean excitement and fun, arouse in him
anticipation and desire.
He ran here and he ran there; he fetched
and he carried; he rehearsed for ceremonies
and waited for orders at palace doors; he
"bossed things" whenever he had a little
brief authority; he did the thousand and one
"chores that are a part of the duties of a
royal page, who is above servants in station
and below officials in rank. The Grand Mar-
shal of the Palace, the Chief Secretary to the Em-
peror, the First Gentleman in Waiting, the First
Page of the Palace, and, first of all, the Em-
peror himself--these were the boy's masters,
and, as became a royal page, he ignored all
others, and gave himself airs whenever he was
beyond the beck and call of his acknowledged
superiors.
F&te crowned fete, and ceremony ceremony..
By stately stages, from Vienna on to Paris,
the Austrian princess came to her throne, es-
corted by Peers of France, and surrounded by
all the pomp and power of this theatrical First
Empire. Then Napoleon met her; and on a
bright April day she entered Paris in a blaze
of glory.
And Philip entered, too, so spick and span
in a new and gorgeous livery that he felt cer-
tain all eyes must be looking at him quite as


much as at any one who had a place in that
long and glittering procession escorting Na-
poleon and Louise from St. Cloud to the
Tuileries.
And where do you think the boy was.?
Clinging with five other pages, for all the world
as if they were "cutting behind," to the foot-
board of the magnificent coronation coach of
glass and gold in which sat the Emperor and
Empress. For there, according to the etiquette
that governed the imperial show," was the
place for the pages, while as many more hung
on to the driver's seat; and I really believe the
boys and girls of Paris thought it almost as fine
to be one of those clinging pages as to be the
Emperor in his cloak of red and white velvet,
or the Empress by his side, glittering in her
golden dress and her circlet of diamonds. I
am sure Babette thought so, when she spied
Philip. For Babette was one of the throng
of little girls, dressed in white, who at the Arch
of Triumph showered the coronation coach
with flowers, and sang a welcome to the new
Empress.
So, under great arches and along the crowded
streets, which were gorgeously decorated and
lined with tiers of seats built for the people,
with the imperial cavalry in advance, with lan-
cers and chasseurs and dragoons marching in
splendid array, with bands playing their best,
with heralds-at-arms in brilliant costumes, and
with eight prancing horses drawing the corona-
tion coach topped with its golden dome, its four
spread eagles, and its imperial crown, Philip and
the Emperor brought the girl Empress into
Paris.
The bells rang merrily, the artillery thundered
salutes, the picked soldiers of the Grand Army
in double files along the route presented arms,
the young girls strewed the way with flowers,
the great marshals of France and the colonels
of the Imperial Guard, mounted on their splen-
did horses, surrounded the glittering coach.
Thus, up the shouting Champs Elys6es,-
real Fields of Paradise that day,- and under
the great arch into the Tuileries gardens, this
splendid procession moved to where, in the
magnificent Square Room of the palace of the
Tuileries, Napoleon and Louise, surrounded by
kings and queens, by lords and ladies, by car-






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


dinals and priests, and in the presence of eight
thousand invited guests, were married by the
Cardinal Fesch, Grand Almoner of France.
It was a regal display, one of the few really
gorgeous ceremonials of history. Not the least
interested spectator was young Philip Des-
nouettes, as, with the throng of royal pages, he
crowded upon the steps that led to the great
platform on which the marriage ceremony took
place. Then followed the promenade in the
picture-gallery, the reception in the splendid
Hall of the Marshals, the imperial banquet in
the theater, the public concert in the vast
amphitheater built in the Tuileries gardens, the
fireworks all along the Champs Elys6es, the
illumination of the Tuileries and of the great
avenues and bridges and buildings of the city,
which blazed with light until, as Philip declared,
"all Paris seemed on fire."
He missed a part of the show, however,
because he had a special duty to perform. He
had to keep a dog from barking.
Into a room of the Tuileries he had been
introduced by young Master Malvirade, the
very important First Page to the Emperor, and
had been ordered to wait there until relieved.
"There 's a dog in here," the First Page had
told him, and a parrot. See to it, young Des-
nouettes, that the dog does not bark, nor the
parrot squawk."
Here was a nice job for a boy who wished
to see the fireworks! Philip was almost tempted
to rebel; but he had been trained to obey, and
he said not a word.
The room was at the end of a long corridor
that was narrow and dimly lighted, but in the
room itself there was a blaze of light from many
lamps and candles. Philip had never seen this
room before, and looked at it critically. It
was clearly not a state apartment; it was more
homelike than handsome. There were draw-
ings and paintings on the walls, the furniture
was not new, and certainly not Paris-made.
Here hung some tapestry-work; there, birds
in cages. On a gilded perch a great green
parrot was clawing and shifting, cocking one
bright eye down at a little dog crouched on
a rug below him. It was this dog and this
parrot that Philip was to keep quiet.
He waited some time. The cheers of the


crowd in the garden and the sounds of the
great chorus at the open-air concert came,
muffled, to his ears. The parrot was uneasy;
the dog was restless; so, too, was Philip, and
he grumbled inwardly at his imprisonment;
but, all the same, he did his duty, petted the
dog, and soothed "poor Polly with promises
of a make-believe cracker.
At last he heard steps coming along the cor-
ridor. The parrot cocked its head to listen;
the dog started up and tried to "woof," but
Philip's hand smothered the incipient bark.
The door opened, and a lady entered. She
was young,- scarcely more than a girl,- but
she was splendidly dressed, and her face was
pretty and pleasant.
She stopped, blinded at first by the flood of
light after the dimness of the corridor. Then
she looked about her, started suddenly, and
as the dog, with a bark and a struggle, broke
away from Philip and sprang toward her, she
dropped on her knees, regardless of her splen-
did dress, and fondled the dog with a cry of joy.
"Why, it is my room !" she cried, looking
about in bewilderment,-"my own room at
Vienna! The very same carpet, the very same
chairs, my sister Clementine's drawings, my
mother's tapestry, my uncle Charles's paint-
ings, my books, my birds-Polly-and you-
you dear, dear Fritzkin!" here she hugged the
little dog again. Then she sprang to her feet
and, saying impulsively, "Oh, Sire, how kind
you are! flung her arms about the neck of
the gentleman who had followed her into the
room,-a short, stout, middle-aged gentleman,
with a splendid court costume, and a handsome
face that sparkled with pleasure at the success
of his little plot. It was Napoleon, and this
was his surprise to his girl wife. He had re-
produced in the Tuileries the room she had
tearfully said good-by to in her father's palace
at Vienna; he had remembered everything -
even to the dog and the parrot that were her
especial pets.
It was such a successful surprise that fun-
loving Philip could not keep back the smile of
sympathy.
"So, it is you, young Desnouettes; you are
the genie in charge, eh ? the Emperor said.
"Louise, this page once saved my life from






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


plotters; and now, behold! he is in a plot
against the Empress. There 's gratitude for
you! "
The girl Empress cast a bright, quick look of
pleasure at the kneeling boy, and held out to
him a hand which Philip loyally kissed, swear-
ing fealty to her in his chivalrous young heart.


"THE EMPRESS HELD OUT A HAND WHICH PHILIP

And the Empress never forgot him, amid all
the strange faces and crowding scenes of her
new life as a sovereign.
Through the spring and into the summer
these faces and scenes thronged, one upon the
other, in quick succession. In April the Em-
peror and Empress, on their wedding journey,
made "a progress" through northern France;
during May and June festivity followed festivity
in Paris, so closely and with such grandeur


that Philip really grew weary of magnificence.
Finally, on the first. day of July came the con-
clusion of this series of grand entertainments in
honor of the Emperor and Empress-the ball
at the Austrian Embassy.
In his fine old mansion on the Street of
Provence, sometimes known as Hospital Road,
and sometimes known
as the Street of the
Crooked Stocking, the
Austrian ambassador,
Prince Schwarzenberg,
gave a great ball. The
house was not large
enough for the enter-
Stainment he wished to
S give, so in his garden
he built, "for one night
only," a great wooden
ball-room.
It was so splendidly
decorated and furnish-
ed that it looked like
a fairy palace. Its
S walls were covered
with gold and silver
brocade, draperies of
spangled gauze were
S festooned all about it,
< fastened with flowers
S and glittering orna-
ments, while lights
from chandeliers and
candelabra made the
great ball-room as bril-
liant as day.
The guests entered
this splendid "palace
for a night" through a
LOYALLY KISSED."
long gallery that con-
nected it with the mansion. Musicians played
in the Court of Honor; grottoes and arbors
and temples were scattered all about the gar-
den; on the lawn brilliantly costumed dancers
took part in a delightful spectacle, and in the
ball-room itself nearly two thousand people
began to dance at midnight.
Philip was there, too semi-officially on duty
as a royal page, but also in for a good time as
a guest of the ambassador.






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


He was having such a good time! There
were plenty of young people there; and though,
of course, the pages could hardly be expected
to dance in the great ball-room, the boys found
partners somehow, as boys are wont to do
when such a fine chance for a dance occurs.
To the same music that guided the grand
quadrille in the ball-room, the boys and girls
started an impromptu quadrille on the lawn,
and had, no doubt, a much better time than
the great folks at the stately function inside.
Philip found himself dancing with a pretty
girl of about his own age, whose name he failed
to catch in the hurried introduction that made
her his partner; but they enjoyed their dance
quite as much as if they had always known
each other. And, when the first quadrille was
over, the boys and girls crowded into the big
ball-room to see the Emperor make his progress
through the room, and to watch the young
Empress on the imperial platform as she talked
with two queens and a king or two.
In the Court of Honor the trumpets sounded
a flourish; in the Temple of Glory a song of
triumph was being sung; everything was bright-
ness and beauty and gaiety and brilliancy,
when, suddenly, Philip saw several gentlemen
dash into the throng; then he heard a shout of
warning, a note of terror; then came another


rush, and above the flourish of the trumpets
and the voices of the singers rang out the cry:
Fire, fire the ball-room is on fire! "
It was no false alarm. The draperies caught
quickly; the hangings burst into a blaze; there
was a mad race for the one doorway that led
into the house, and everywhere were confusion,
terror, and a desperate dash for life.
Philip caught by the arm the young girl with
whom he had been dancing on the lawn.
Quick, give me your hand, mademoiselle!"
he cried; "trust me and I will save you. The
garden is our best chance."
But the girl seemed dazed. My father!-
where is my father? she cried. Oh, find my
father!"
Philip was as wiry as he was plucky and
sturdy, but an excited crowd in a blazing ball-
room knows neither courage nor courtesy where
all are struggling to escape.
Even as he lost his hold of the girl's arm
when she sought to dart off in another direc-
tion, the splendidly dressed mob surged in be-
tween, and, separating the two, flung the boy
to the floor, where he lay, trampled upon and
kicked about in this mad rush for safety.
And, as he fell, he heard above the up-
roar the terrible danger-call: "A plot, a plot!
Frenchmen, defend your Emperor!"


(To be continued.)



SNOW SONG.


OVER valley, over hill,
Hark, the shepherd piping shrill!
Driving all the white flocks forth
From the far folds of the North.
Blow, Wind, blow;
Weird melodies you play,
Following your flocks that go
Across the world to-day.

How they hurry, how they crowd
When they hear the music loud!
Grove and lane and meadow full
Sparkle with their shining wool.


Blow, Wind, blow
Until the forests ring:
Teach the eaves the tunes you know,
And make the chimney sing!

Hither, thither, up and down
Every highway of the town,
Huddling close, the white flocks all
Gather at the shepherd's call.
Blow, Wind, blow
Upon your pipes of joy;
All your sheep the flakes of snow
And you their shepherd boy!


Frank Dempster Sherman.










BLACK DOUGLAS.
(A Ballad.)

BY ANNA ROBESON BROWN.


I t'


-- OME hither, Rob and
Alison,
SAnd leave your
noisy plays.
There is an hour or
Sa so till tea,
A border tale I 'll tell
to ye,-
"- So draw your chairs
up cozily
Around the cheerful blaze!

Black Douglas rode through Cumberland,
And sacked the border-side!
A hundred spearmen, bold and bright,
A hundred bowmen, fierce in fight,


A hundred men-at-arms that night,
Did with Black Douglas ride!

And straight for Ashley Towers they went.
Lord Ashley, Douglas' foe,
With gallant train had fared that morn
To chase the deer with hound and horn,
And knew not of his trampled corn
And waving fields laid low.

But when Lord Ashley reined at dusk
His horse upon the hill,
'T was not his tired steed he spared,
Nor for his ruined grain-fields cared,
When in his ears the noises blared
Of weeping, loud and shrill.








He galloped madly to
the gate,
And then threw
down his rein;
For Ralph, his hench-
man,weeping wild,
Cried out, "My lord,
the child the
child!-
The lady Maud, by
force beguiled,
Is by yon robber
ta'en!

"We held the postern
steadily,
And thought to rout
the foe;
But as we strove. the
little maid
Too far from out the
shelter stray'd,
And, swift, Black Doug-
las had her laid
Across his saddle-
bow!"


- ,P---~-~'"
2 1


BLACK DOUGLAS.


;s~ r

'-





BLACK DOUGLAS.


Oh, white grew brave Lord Ashley then,
While ordering his array.
Awhile he with his dagger played,
And in his clenched teeth he said,
"If he hath harmed my little maid,
Douglas shall rue the day!"


From all the harried country-side
Poured men to join the force;
And soon six hundred bows of yew,
A hundred steel-clad knights so true,
Of stalwart pikemen not a few,
Had filed along the course.


But when to Douglas' hold they came,
They raised a mighty shout,
And then stood still in sheer amaze:
Unguarded were the castle ways!
And on the battlements at gaze
No bowmen stood about!
But door and wall and castle, all
Were empty of the foe,
Portcullis up, and drawbridge down!
So, wondering much, with many a frown,
Through gates as peaceful as the town,
Lord Ashley's henchmen go!
No sound they heard of man or beast
Till to the hall they came,
Then, sudden, stayed their hurrying feet;
For to their ears, full tender, fleet,
A peal of childish laughter sweet,
As at some merry game!


"St. Andrew!" cried Lord Ashley then.
"Am I awake, or mad?
Stay here, my men, for I will see
What sort of witchcraft this may be
That rings a laugh so cheerily
To make Lord Douglas glad!"


t.


-~--


"






BLACK DOUGLAS.


But when he stood within the hall,
He thought his wits astray:
It was as full as it could hold
Of Douglas' henchmen, who behold
A little child with curls of gold
A-toss in merry play,


While sounds her laughter sweet and shrill,
And fearless as the breeze,
As thus she tries a bolder course,
And holds with all her baby force
To the Black Douglas, as her horse,
Down on his hands and knees!






BLACK DOUGLAS.


But when her father she beheld,
Straight to his arms she flew.
"Give Maud a kiss, Papa!" she said;
Then, as he kissed her curly head,
All quickly spoke the little maid,
"Now kiss Lord Douglas, too !"

Oh, then the laughter loud, did ring
Along that vaulted hall!
I wot they laughed until they cried;
Even Lord Douglas held his side,
And brave Lord Ashley, all untried,
His sword let clattering fall.

Out spake the fierce Black Douglas then:
"Lord Ashley, by my hand,
Your lady Maud has sealed a peace
Between us two that should not cease,
But will with love and time increase
Our fortunes and our land!

"A Douglas cannot stoop to sue,
And yet, to make this good,
If you to peace agree to-day,
For all the loss of this foray
A hundred head of kine I '11 pay-
I swear it, by the Rood! "


"Lord Douglas, since your wish is plain,
Peace be it!" quoth the Earl.
Their mailed hands together rang,
While all their followers shout, and clang
Spear-heads and shields; and laughed and sang
For joy the little girl.

"And now, Lord Ashley, by your grace,"
Lord Douglas did aver,
"Stay here to-night and take your rest;
You and the maid shall share my best.
Howbeit she grant," he said in jest,-
"I take one kiss of her! "

Thus did these two lords end their feud,
Thenceforth in peace to bide.
In friendship long they reaped and sowed;
And when again war's beacon glowed,
Lord Ashley and Lord Douglas rode
To battle, side by side!

Nay, no more tales, my Alison!
Jump down from off my knee.
The fire is dull and all burnt out;
Poor Robbie is asleep, no doubt;
And, children, do not jump about
When Jane brings in the lea!












































































































"JACK FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN AND THE YOUNG LADY UP THE CROOKED PATH TO THE HOUSE."


128











JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.

BY HOWARD PYLE.


[Begun in the April number.]
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PIRATES' LAIR.
IT took nearly a week to run from Norfolk
to Bath Town. It was in the early daylight
that the sloop came about and, with a short
tack, sailed into the mouth of Bath Creek. On
one side a swamp fringed with giant cypress-
trees, their bright green foliage standing out
against the darker green behind, came close
down to the point. Upon the other side were
open clearings and plantations. About half
a league up, at the end of the mouth of the
creek, the houses of the little town clustered
among the trees upon a gentle rise of open
ground. A long, straggling foot-bridge stretched
out across the water, from the town to the fur-
ther shore. The sloop was sailing smoothly
nearer and nearer to the bluff shore upon which
stood a square frame-house with a tall sloping
roof and two lean chimneys. The house was
almost hidden by the shade of two great cypress-
trees that grew up from what seemed to be a
little marshy hollow. A glimpse of a clearing
showed, stretching out to the edge of the woods
beyond. A half-dozen or more boats were
drawn up on the beach, and a sloop, perhaps a
little larger than that in which the pirates
sailed, rode at anchor near a little landing-
wharf. Two rough-looking white men and
some half-dozen negroes stood on the land-
ing, looking at the sloop as it sailed toward
them. Jack was so interested in everything
that he scarcely noticed the bustle and move-
ment around him-the preparations for quitting
the sloop; the shouts and calls. The boat-
swain's whistle sounded shrilly, and in answer
the anchor fell with a splash, and the sloop
drifted slowly around to the wind, the mainsail
flapping and beating heavily in the light air.
Dred's head appeared above the cabin compan-
VOL. XXII.-17. 1


ionway. "Ballister !-Jack Ballister Where's
Jack Ballister ?" he called.
"Here I be," said Jack, hurrying toward him.
Come here," said Dred, and Jack followed
him down into the cabin.
The Captain was combing out his shaggy
hair, and the young lady sat with her arms
leaning upon the table. She wore an air as
of dumb expectation. "Here, boy," said the
Captain, "you're to go ashore with me and
the young lady. I want you to carry that bag
of clothes up to the house. You 're to wait
upon the young lady, and be handy whenever
my wife wants you, d' ye understand?"
Yes, sir," answered Jack.
Just then Hands came to the companion-
way. He stooped and looked down. "The
boat's ready now, Captain," said he.
Come, Mistress," said Captain Blackbeard;
"if you 're ready now, we '11 go ashore."
The young lady rose instantly from her place
and stood, resting her hand upon the table, and
looking about her. "D' ye want any help ? "
said the pirate. She shook her head. "Well,
come along, then." The Captain and Morton
and Dred led the way to the deck; Miss Elea-
nor Parker followed, and Jack came behind.
The young lady looked around her. The faint
wind stirred the hair at her temples. She gazed
steadily at the little town lying seemingly so
close. Jack noticed how thin and pale she had
grown. "Come along, Mistress!" called out
Blackbeard. The men made way for her with
a sort of dumb deference as she crossed the
deck. They held the boat close to the side of
the sloop, and the Captain and Morton and
Hands helped the young lady into it. Then
the Captain took his place beside her.
"You jump aboard up there in the bow,"
said he to Jack; and then, as soon as Jack took
his place, the men pushed off and began row-
ing away toward the shore.






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


Jack watched the wharf as it came nearer
and nearer. He could see that one of the
white men who stood there looked haggard and
pinched as though with illness. He and the
other white man and the negroes stared curi-
ously at them. The next moment the bow of
the boat struck with a bump against the landing,
and Jack jumped up upon the wharf. Come
here," said the Captain, "and help the young
lady ashore." Jack hurried toward her. He
reached out his hand, and the next moment felt
her grasp, soft and warm. She held tightly to
him as he helped her up from the boat to the
landing under the gaze of the men on the wharf.
Jack followed the Captain and the young
lady up the crooked path to the house. From
a distance the house had looked picturesque -
almost beautiful-hidden among the soft green
foliage of the cypress-trees; but it looked shabby
and weather-worn and even squalid upon a
nearer approach. A woman who was between
twenty and thirty years old stood in the door-
way looking at them as they came up the path.
Her face was not uncomely, but was heavy and
dull. Her hair was light and colorless, and was
tied up under a dirty cap. She was in her bare
feet; she wore a jacket without sleeves, partly
pinned, partly buttoned, and under it a flam-
ing red petticoat. She stared at them with
wide eyes, but the pirate said nothing at all to
her, and she stood aside as he led the way
directly into the house. The dirty floor was
bare and uncarpeted. There was a table and
two chairs. Some tin boxes and a couple of
candlesticks, caked with grease, stood upon the
mantel that held a loud-ticking clock. The
room, with its bare plastered walls, was naked
and cheerless, and was filled with a rank, smoky
smell. Sit down, Mistress," said Blackbeard;
and then, as Miss Eleanor Parker obeyed him,
"This is my wife," said he, "and she 'll look
after you for a while. D' ye hear, Betty ? You're
to look after the young lady. Go up-stairs now,
and get the spare room ready, and be as lively
about it as you can."
Jack followed the woman up the steep, rick-
ety stairs to the sagging floor above. "Here,
this is the room," said she, opening the door
into a room directly under the roof. It looked
out through two windows across the creek to


the swamp on the other side, a half-mile or
so away.
Who is she?" said the woman to Jack, as
he followed her into the room and laid the
traveling-bag upon the bed.
"The young lady down-stairs? She 's Miss
Eleanor Parker," said Jack.
"A grand, fine lady, be n't she?" And Jack
nodded.
"Well, you trig up the room a little, now,
won't you? I '11 just go put on another dress,
for, d' ye see, I did n't look for Ned to bring
such fine company. You 'd better fetch up a
pail of water, too, for I reckon she '11 be want-
ing to wash herself."
Blackbeard's wife was gone for a long time.
The pirate walked restlessly and irritably up and
down the room, stopping once at the mantel-
shelf to fill up a pipe of tobacco. The young lady
sat impassively, with her hands lying in her lap,
gazing absently upon the floor. Once or twice
the pirate glared with angry impatience at the
door. At last there was the sound of foot-
steps- this time not of bare feet -clattering
down the stairs, and a second later the pirate's
wife opened the door and entered the room.
She had changed her slatternly dress for a med-
ley of finery. She wore high-heeled shoes, and
silk stockings with red clocks. She courtesied
to the young lady as Blackbeard stared at her.
"If you '11 come along with me now, Madam,"
said she, with an air, "I '11 show you to your
room."
CHAPTER XXVII.
AT BATH TOWN.
THE pirates, excepting a few who came from
neighboring plantations, lived in the town. By
noon they had all gone home excepting Dred.
"You and Chris Dred will have to share one
room," the pirate's wife had said to Jack.
"He 's lived here ever since he came back
from Virginia. He sleeps in the corner room.
There ain't no bed in t' other, so, now the
young lady 's come, you 'll have to share with
him." And Jack had answered, "Why, that
suits me well enough, Mrs. Teach."
"Look 'e, boy," said Captain Teach to Jack
the next morning, "I want you to take this
letter up to Bath Town and give it to Mr.


130






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


Knight. You 'll take one of the boats. Dred's
aboard of the sloop. Tell him to send a couple
of black men to take you up."
Very well," said Jack.
As he stood on the wharf looking out across
to the sloop, he could see Dred moving about
directing the negroes whom the Captain had
borrowed from a neighboring plantation, and
who were washing down and holystoning the
deck. Everything was dripping with the water
that flowed out of the scuppers in dirty streams,
and in which Dred pattered in his bare feet.
There was a dinghy alongside, in which the black
men who were busy at work had doubtless come
off from the shore.
Jack called out to Dred, and he came to
the side of the sloop, holding to the ratlines.
"I have got to take this letter to the town,"
called Jack, holding up the note in his hand,
" and the Captain says that you 're to let two
of the black men take me up." And Dred,
who was smoking a short black pipe, nodded
his head in reply. He turned, and Jack saw
him speaking to the negroes. In answer two
of them dropped the buckets from which they
were washing the deck, and, scrambling over
the side into the dinghy, pushed off and came
rowing toward him.
The town appeared singularly interesting to
Jack as he walked up. The main street with
its dirt sidewalk was shaded with trees, through
which filtered uncertain, wavering spots of sun-
light. The day was hot; a dry wind rustled the
leaves overhead, and a belated cicada, trilled its
shrill note that, rising and falling, pulsed whir-
ring away into silence. The houses, mostly built
of frame, were small and not very clean. They
nearly all stood close to the street. A sort of
indolent life stirred in the place, and further
down the street a lot of men were lounging in
front of a building that looked as if it might
be a store of some sort. Among the group
Jack noticed several of his late companions,
and he knew instinctively that they were talk-
ing about the events that had lately occurred
in Virginia. As he drew near to them he heard
one of them say, There 's the boy now "; and
the faces of all were turned toward him.
Hullo, Jack! called out one of the others.
"What do you do up here in Bath Town ? "


"Why," said Jack, "the Captain sent me up
with a note to Mr. Knight."
"To Mr. Knight ? said one man whom he
did not know. "Why, I reckon Mr. Knight
be n't in town. He went off across the coun-
try the day afore yesterday, and I reckon he
be n't back yet."
"Yes, he be back," said another; "anyway,
I am sure his horse is back again, for I saw
Bob a-rubbing it down as I came by the stable
a half-hour or so ago."
They lounged impassively as they talked,
and made no move to aid Jack in his business.
"Well, anyhow," said Jack, I 've got to find
Mr. Knight if he 's in town; and so where can
I come to him?"
Come here," said one of his late com-
panions aboard the sloop; "I '11 show you."
He led him out into the middle of the street.
"D' ye see that open place yonder? Well,
that 's where the church stands; just beyond
that- you can see it from here is the house.
'T is the very next house to the church. Well,
that's Mr. Knight's house."
How 's the young mistress by now, Jack?"
said one of the men.
She 's well enough," said Jack shortly. He
did not choose to talk about the young lady.
She looked kind of peakish, to my mind,
when she came ashore," said the man. But
Jack, making no answer, turned and walked
on down the street in the direction that had
been pointed out to him.
Mr. Knight's house was built of brick, and
was rather better-looking than the houses that
surrounded it. Jack found that the Secretary
was at home, and was shown into his office.
He was smoking a pipe of tobacco and looking
over some papers which littered the writing-
desk at which he sat. He was a rather thin,
dark man, not ill-looking, but nervous and jerky
in his movements. He wore a black cloth skull-
cap upon his head, and Jack saw a fine wig of
black hair hanging behind the door.
He turned his head and looked over his
shoulder at Jack as the boy came into the
room. "Well," said he, "what d' ye want ? "
"Why," said Jack, Captain Teach hath
sent me up with this note for you, sir."
Oh! he did, did he ? Well, let me have it."






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


He leaned back in his chair and reached out
for the note, which Jack handed to him, and
which he tore open quickly and sharply. Jack
noticed how the letter trembled in his nervous
hand as he held it. He watched Mr. Knight's
eyes as they traveled down the page until they
reached the bottom, and then as he turned over
the paper to make sure that there was nothing
upon the other side. "Very well," said he,
when he had ended. "Tell the' Captain that
I '11 be there to-morrow."

Mr. Knight came down to the pirate's house
at the appointed time. Captain Teach stood
at the door watching him as he came up the
crooked path. The pirate had been playing
upon his guitar, and he stood holding it under
his arm. Mr. Knight limped, slightly, and
walked with a cane. The evening was warm,
and he carried his hat in his hand. Jack stood
around the end of the house, also looking at the
Colonial Secretary as he approached. How
d' ye do, Captain ?" said Mr. Knight, as soon
as he had come near enough.
"Why, I 'm well enough," said Captain
Teach surlily, taking his pipe out of his mouth
to reply. "Hands and Morton and Dred are
all here, and we 've been waiting for you for
some time now. Come in."
He led the way into the room where the
three of whom he had spoken were sitting
smoking. Mr. Knight nodded to the others.
" Well, Captain," said he, as he took his seat
and laid his hat and cane upon the table,
-' what 's this business you want to see me
about? What 's this I hear about a young
lady you 've brought down from Virginia ? "
"Why," said Captain Teach, I reckon 't is
just about as you 've heard it." He had laid
aside his guitar and had gone to the mantel-
shelf, and was striking a flint and steel to light
the candle. "I brought a young lady down
with me from Virginia--she 's staying here
with my wife."
"Well, what 's your business with me ?"
"I '11 tell you just exactly what the business
is we want of you, and just what we 've been
doing. Do you know of Colonel Birchall
Parker ? "
Why, to be sure I do," said Mr. Knight.


"Why do you ask me such a thing as that,
Captain ?"
Well, I 've carried off his daughter; we 've
got her here in this house."
Mr. Knight sat quite still for a long time.
"Then 't is just as I heard this morning," said
he at last; "but indeed I could n't believe it,
nor how you would dare do such a thing as to
carry off Colonel Birchall Parker's daughter.
'T is the maddest thing I ever heard tell of in
all my life, and if I were you I 'd send the young
lady back just as soon as ever I could."
"Why, then, Mr. Secretary," said Captain
Teach, "I 'm much beholden to you for ad-
vice, but just you listen to me for a little, will
you ?-and give me time to say my say before
you advise me. I 'm not going to send her
back just now, in spite of your advice, nor un-
til her father pays a good round sum to get
her back. I tell you what 't is, Mr. Secretary
Knight, there be a greater one than you or
me mixed up in this business--no less a one,
if you believe me, than Mr. Dick Parker."
What! exclaimed Mr. Knight, Mr. Rich-
ard Parker What d' ye mean by that ?"
Why, I mean just what I say," said Captain,
Teach. Mr. Parker is the one man in this, and
we manage it as his agents. So you may see
for yourself we 're not so likely to come to any
harm as ye might think; for if we come to any
harm it drags him along with us. 'T was his
plan and by his information that the young
lady was taken- and more than that, his plan
is that you shall write to him as though to give
him the first information of her being here in
the keep of the Pamlico pirates. Then he '11
go to Colonel Parker and make the best bar-
gain he can to have her redeemed."
"Stop a bit, Captain!" interrupted Mr.
Knight. "You 're going all too fast in this
matter. You seem to be pleased to count on
me in this business without asking me anything
about it. I tell. you plain that this is too seri-
ous a thing for me to tamper with. Why, d' ye
think I 'm such a villain as to trade in such
business as this at the risk of my neck ?"
"Well," said the pirate Captain. "That is
just as you choose, Mr. Secretary. But I don't
see that you need bring yourself into any dan-
ger at all. 'T is I and those with me," said he,


132







JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


sweeping his hands toward Morton and Hands
and Dred, "who really take all the risk, and I
take it even though I know that if anything
should happen, you 'd throw us overboard
without waiting a second moment to think
about it."
Mr. Knight sat in thoughtful silence for a
while. What money is there in this for you ?"
said he, looking up sharply.
"That I don't know neither," said the other.
"Mr. Parker will manage that at t' other end."
"What does Mr. Richard Parker expect for
his share in this precious conspiracy ? "
"Why," said Captain Teach, "there he
drives a mightily hard bargain. He demands a
half of all for his share, and he will not take
a farthing less."
Mr. Knight whistled to himself. "Well,"
said he at last, he does indeed drive hard at
you, Captain. But, after all, I do not know
that I can be easier upon you. For if I go
into this business it '11 be upon the same stand
as Mr. Parker takes--I will have the half that
is left after he has taken his half."
Captain Teach burst out laughing. Why,"
said he, "'t is one thing for Mr. Parker to
make his terms, and 't is another thing for you
to do it. I tell you what shall be your share
of it, and you '11 have to rest easy with that.
Your share shall be as it hath always been: I
shall have my third first of all, and you shall
stand in for your share with Hands and Morton
and Dred as you 've always done."
Mr. Knight shook his head. "Very well,
then," said the Captain harshly, pushing back
his chair and rising as he spoke. "If you
choose to throw away what may drop into
your hands without any risk to yourself, you
may do so and welcome. I'11 manage the busi-
ness as best I can without you."
"Stop a bit, Captain," said Mr. Knight;
"you 're too hasty by half. Just what is it you
want me to do in this business ?"
"Why," said Captain Teach, "I 've told you
in part what I want you to do. 'T is first of
all to write a letter to Mr. Richard Parker say-
ing that you have certain information that the
young lady, Colonel Parker's daughter, is in
the hands of certain pirates, and that they
won't give her up unless a ransom is paid for


her. Ye may add also-as is the truth-that
she appears to be in the way of falling sick
if she is n't taken away home pretty quick.
Then, after you 've writ your letter, you must
hunt up a decent, responsible merchant-captain
or master to take it up to Virginia and see that
it is delivered into Mr. Richard Parker's hands."
Mr. Knight looked very serious.
"And have you thought of what danger
you 'd be in if she were to die on your hands ? "
"Yes, I have," said the other; "and so you
need n't say any more about it. Tell me, will
you take in with this business, or will you not? "
"Humph !" said Mr. Knight, rubbing his
chin thoughtfully. He sat for a long time
looking broodingly at the flickering candle-
light. "There 's Nat Jackson hath gone up
the river for a cargo of wood shingles. He 's
looked for back here on Friday. 'T is like
enough he would be your man to take the let-
ter if I go into this business."
I dare say he '11 do well enough," said Cap-
tain Teach impatiently. "But tell me, what is
your answer, Mr. Secretary? Will you go into
this business or not ? "
"I '11 tell you to-morrow," said Mr. Knight.
"If I go into it I '11 send you a draft of the
letter to Mr. Parker. Will that suit you?"
"Why," said the other sullenly, "'t will have
to suit; but methinks you might give a plain
yes or no without so much beating about the
bush, or taking so much time to think it over."

Jack and the pirate's wife sat in the kitchen.
They could hear the grumble of talk from the
room beyond: I tell- you what 't is," said
Jack, breaking the silence, "to my mind the
young lady don't look anything like so well as
when I saw her in Virginia."
"I don't know why she 'd be sick," said the
woman. "We give her good enough victuals
to eat, and she does n't lack for company. I 'm
sure I sat with her nigh all afternoon, and she
answered me pretty enough when I talked to
her."
By and by they heard the party in the other
room break up, and Mr. Knight's parting words
as he left the house. Presently Dred came
into the kitchen. He looked dull and heavy-
eyed. "I reckon I must 'a' got a fever," said






134 JACK BALLISTIC
he; my head beats fit to split-I 'm that hot
I 'm all afire. D' ye have any spirits of bark
here, Mistress ?"
The pirate's wife got up and went to the
closet, and brought out a bottle of bitter bark
from which she poured a large dose into a
tea-cup. Dred drank it off at a gulp, making
a hideous, wry face. -Then he wiped his hand
across his mouth.

The letter reached Mr. Richard Parker, some
two weeks later, at Marlborough, where he was
then staying. The great house was full of that
subdued bustle that speaks so plainly of illness.
The invalid was Colonel Parker. In the shock
and despair that followed the abduction of his
daughter, the gout had seized him again. The
doctor was in the house all the time. "How
is my brother this morning?" Mr. Richard
Parker had asked of him.
"Why, sir, I see- but very little change,"
said the doctor. "His honor does not suffer
so much, but the gout still clings to his stom-
ach, and is not to be driven out."
It was some little time after the doctor had
so spoken that Mr. Knight's letter was given
to Mr. Parker. He had eaten his breakfast
alone, and the plate and broken pieces of food
still lay spread before him. He read and re-read
the note. He sat perfectly still, without a shade
of change passing over his handsome face.
"'T is indeed true," said part of the letter,
"that the young lady appears to be really ill,
and if her father doth not presently redeem her
out of their hands she may indeed fall into a
decline." And then was added, in a postscript
to the passage, "This is, I assure you, indeed the
truth," and the words were underscored.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
AN EXPEDITION.
ONE day Hands, who had been making a visit
at a plantation, was brought to Blackbeard's
house, shot through the knee. There had been a
quarrel at the plantation, and he had been shot
by accident. The men lifted him, groaning,
from the ox-cart in which he was brought, and
carried him up-stairs. Dred was sick in the bed,
but he had to turn out to give place to the


lI


_-- -_ -


R S FORTUNES. DEC.

wounded man. After that he and Jack slept
in the kitchen.
Dred had been in bed for some three weeks,
and Blackbeard had been away from home for
some days in Bath Town a longer stay than
he commonly made. Then one morning he
suddenly returned from the town.
Jack and Betty Teach were at breakfast in
the kitchen. Dred lay upon a bench, his head
upon a coat rolled into a pillow.
"You 'd better come and try to eat some-
thing," said Betty Teach. I do believe if you
tried to eat a bit you could eat, and to my mind
you 'd be the better for it."
Dred shook his head weakly without opening
his eyes. Jack helped himself to a piece of
bacon and a large sweet potato. "Now, do
come and eat a bit," urged the woman.
I don't want anything to eat," said Dred
irritably; "I wish you 'd let me alone." He
opened his eyes for a brief moment, and then
closed them again.
"Well," said Betty, "you need n't snap a
body's head off. I only ask you to eat for your
own good-if you don't choose to eat, why,
don't eat. You '11 be as testy as Hands, by and
by-and, to be sure, I never saw anybody like
he is with his sore leg. You 'd think he was
the only man in the world that had ever been
shot, the way he do go on."
"'T was a pretty bad hurt," said Jack, with
his mouth full, and that's the truth. 'T is a
wonder to me how he did not lose his leg. 'T is
an awful-looking wound." Dred listened with
his eyes closed.
Just then the door opened and the Captain
came in, and at once they ceased speaking.
He looked very glum and preoccupied. Dred
opened his eyes where he lay, and looked heav-
ily at him. The Captain did not notice any of
the three, but went to the row of pegs against
the wall and hung up his hat, and then picked
up a chair and brought it over to the table.
"Have you had your breakfast yet, Ned? "
asked his wife.
No," said he briefly. He sat quite impas-
sively as she bustlingly fetched him a plate and
a knife and fork.
Chris," said he, "I got some news from
Charleston last night. Jim Johnson 's come






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


on, and he says that a packet to Boston in
Massachusetts was about starting three or four
days after he left. There 's a big prize in it, I
do believe, and I sent word out around the
town to all the men that we were to be off
to-day."
Jack sat listening intently. He did not un-
derstand quite what was meant, and he was
very much interested to comprehend. He
could gather that the pirate was going away
seemingly on a cruise, and then he began won-
dering if he was to be taken along. Again
Dred had opened his eyes and was lying
looking at the Captain, who, upon his part,
steadfastly regarded the sick man for a mo-
ment or two without speaking. D' ye think
ye can go along ?" said Blackbeard presently.
"Why, no," said Dred weakly. "You may
see for yourself that I can't go along. How
could I go along ? Why, I be a bedrid man."
"But how am I to get along without you ?"
said Blackbeard savagely. "That 's what I
want to know. There 's Hands in bed with
his broken knee, and you down with the fever,
.and only Morton and me to run everything
aboard the two sloops. For they do say that
the packet's armed; and if so we 'll have to
take both sloops."
Jack had listened with a keener and keener
interest. He felt that he must know just what
.all the talk meant. "Where are you going,
Captain ? said he. "What are you going
to do ? "
The pirate turned a lowering look upon him.
" You mind your own business, and don't you
-concern yourself with what does n't concern
you," he said gruffly. Then he added, "Wher-
,ever we 're going, you 're not going along, and
you may rest certain of that. You've got to
:stay home here with Betty, for she can't get
along with the girl and two sick men to look
.after."
He means he 's going on a cruise, Jack,"
:said Dred from the bench. "They're going to
*cruise outside and stop the Charleston packet."
"I don't see," said Jack to the pirate Cap-
tain, that I 'm any better off here than I was
up in Virginia. I had to serve Mr. Parker there,
.and I have to slave for you here, without get-
iting anything for it."


Blackbeard glowered heavily at him for a few
moments without speaking. "If ye like," said
he, "I '11 send you back to Virginia to your
master. I dare say he'd be glad enough to get
you back again." And then Jack did not ven-
ture to answer anything. "Somebody '11 have
to' stay to look after all these sick people,"
Blackbeard continued, "and why not you as
well as another? "
The pirate's wife had left the table, and was
busy getting some food together on a pewter
platter. You take this up-stairs to the young
lady, Jack," said she, "while I get something
for Hands to eat. I never see such trouble in
all my life as the three of 'em make together-
the young lady and Hands and Chris Dred
here."
"When d' ye sail?" Dred asked of the pirate
Captain, and Jack lingered with the plate in
his hand to hear the answer.
"Why, just as soon as we can get the men
together. The longer we leave it, the less
chance we '11 have of coming across the
packet." Jack waited a little while longer, but
Blackbeard had fallen to at his breakfast, and
he saw that no more was to be said just then.
So he went up-stairs with the food, his feet clat-
tering noisily as he -ascended the dark, narrow
stairway. After that Blackbeard ate for a while
in silence.
"How 's the young lady?" said he at last.
"Why, I don't see as she 's any better," said
Betty Teach; and the pirate frowned gloomily.
At last he ended his meal and pushed back
his chair suddenly.
"I '11 go up and see Hands," said he. He
went up-stairs noisily. Jack followed him,
standing in the door of the sick-room.
"Phew!" said the Captain, and he went
across the room and opened the window.
Hands, unconscious of the heavy, fetid smell
of the sick-room, was sitting in bed propped up
by a pillow, and smoking his pipe of tobacco.
He was very restless and uneasy.
"What 's going on ?" he asked.
"Why," said Blackbeard, "we 're going off
on a cruise."
"Going off on a cruise ? said Hands.
"Yes," said Blackbeard, as he sat himself
down on the edge of the bed. "I was up in






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


town last night, along with Knight, when Jim
Johnson came in. He'd just come back from
Charleston, and brought news of the Boston
packet sailing. He says it was the talk then
that there was a chist o' money aboard."
Hands laid aside his pipe of tobacco, and
began growling.
"What did Jack Trivett mean, anyway-.to
shoot me wantonly through the knee?" He
tried to move himself in the bed. M-m-m! "
he grunted, groaning. He clenched the fist
upon which he rested, making a wry face as
he shifted himself a little on the bed.
The pirate Captain watched him curiously
as he labored to move himself. "How do
you feel to-day ?" asked he.
"Oh, I feel pretty well," said Hands, groan-
ing again, only when I try to move a bit. I
reckon I '11 never be able to use my leg again,
to speak on."
Betty Teach came in with a platter of food.
"What ha' ye got there ? asked the sick man,
craning his neck.
"Why," said she, "a bit of pork and some
potatoes."
"Potatoes and pork," said he. "'T is al-
ways potatoes and pork and nothing else."
She made no reply, but set the platter down
upon the bed and stood watching him. "When
do you sail ? asked Hands.
"As soon as we can," said Blackbeard briefly.

It was a cloudy, windy day. When Jack
came down to the wharf there was a great air
of bustle and preparation. Other boats had
come down from the town, making six in all,
and another was .just coming. A group of
three or four men were lounging at the end of
the wharf, and .as many more sat in the boat
waiting, perhaps, for the Captain. "Hullo,
Jack !" called out one of the pirates-a young
fellow not much older than Jack himself-as
Jack joined the group. D' ye go along with
us "
Why, no," said Jack, I don't; I 've got to
stay at home and nurse Hands and Dred."
Blackbeard ate his dinner ashore; and it was


some time after noon before all the men had
come down from the town and the sloops were
ready to sail. The larger vessel of the two
got off some time-a half-hour or so-before
the other, in which the Captain himself sailed.
The two were to meet at Ocracock. The
clouds had blown away, and the autumn sun
shone warm and strong. Dred had come
down from the house with the Captain to see
the departure. The Captain carried his guitar
with him. He handed it carefully into the
boat before he himself descended into it. Dred
and Jack stood on the edge of the landing,
watching the rowboat as it pulled away from
the wharf toward the sloop, the Captain sitting
in the stern. The deck of the sloop was
crowded with many figures, and from the
midst of them the long-gun in the bows
pointed out ahead silently and grimly. The
click-click-clicking of the capstan sounded
ceaselessly, and, with iterated clatter, the main-
sail rose higher and higher apeak. Still Jack
and Dred stood on the end of the wharf watch-
ing the sloop as, the sail filling with the wind,
it heeled slowly over, and then, with gathering
speed, swept sluggishly away from its moorings,
leaving behind it a swelling wake, in which
towed the boat that had brought the Captain
aboard. They watched it as it ran further and
further out into the river, growing smaller and
smaller in the distance, and then, when a great
way off, coming about. They watched it until,
with the wind now astern, it slipped swiftly in
behind the jutting point of swamp and was
cut off by the intervening trees. Everything
seemed to have grown strangely dull and silent.
The two stood inertly for a while in the silence.
The water lapped and splashed and gurgled
against the wharf, and a flock of blue jays
from the wet swamp on the. other side of the
creek began suddenly calling out their shrill,
noisy clamor. Presently Dred groaned. "I 'm
going back to the house," he said; I ain't fit
to be out, and that 's a fact. I never had a
fever to lay me out like this. I 'm going up to
the house, and I ain't going to come out ag'in
till I 'm fit to be out."


(To be continued.)


































































































SDEAR ME, LUCY ANN, IF YOU 'RE NOT MORE CAREFULLER OF YOURSELF, YOU LL NOT LAST TILL CHRISTMAS!"



VOL. XXII.--8. 137


,. .. j



'li





3 '~ i=

.; -1
-1 -



i :

.1
r-.
i


i
~J~
if.,,~


ZIG;~1,
tk
?












CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


BY ALBERT STEARNS.


CHAPTER I.

NAOW, haow much am I offered fer this
beautiful lamp ? Quit laffin' naow, an' jest
cast your eyes over it. This here lamp, I am
informed, cost Perfesser Huxter over one hun-
dred dollars on account of its great age, but
yeou kin hev it at yeour own price. It's in
perfick order, an' with a leetle polishin' 'll make
a han'some parlor ornament. Naow, what am
I bid?"
There were in attendance at this "Grand
Sale" (as the handbills put it) "of the effects
of the late Professor Joel Huxter, consisting of
household furniture and many other rare old
curios," the usual number of curiosity-seekers
and idlers, with a thin sprinkling of buyers.
It was well for poor old Professor Huxter's
peace of mind that he had not foreseen the dis-
posal which was finally to be made of these
"rare old curios," collected by him during a
long lifetime and at the expense of great labor
and self-sacrifice. Now that he was dead, they
were being sold for a mere fraction of their
actual value, for offering them to the good peo-
ple of South Dusenbury was like casting pearls
before swine.
The professor's antique vases and other
curious specimens of the handiwork of bygone
ages were, to these simple yokels, only so
many second-hand pots and pans, and were
sold at prices that would have made an anti-
quarian's blood boil.
But there was no antiquarian present--only
twenty or more women, who sacrilegiously han-
dled the professor's treasures, and commented
cynically upon them; half a dozen men, in-
cluding the village postmaster and the "oldest
inhabitant"; and a school-boy, who lingered
near the door and surveyed the scene with
evident curiosity.
Ain't nobody goin' tew bid nothing' fer this


here vallyble lamp ?" went on the auctioneer.
"Start it, somebody- dew! "
"I '11 give ten cents for it," said the school-boy.
"Gone, b' gosh!" said the auctioneer, with
startling promptness. I begun tew be afeard
I wa'n't goin' tew git red of it. Come right up,
Chris Wagstaff; hand over yeour dime an' take
persession o' yeour property."
The boy, a rather good-looking lad of thir-
teen or fourteen, came bashfully forward, pro-
duced two nickels from the depths of his
trousers' pocket, and took the lamp from the
auctioneer's hands.
Biggest bargain yeou ever made, Chris,"
said that worthy, facetiously. "It may be the
making' o' yer everlastin' fortin'. Keep it a cou-
ple o' hundred years, an' yeou may re'lize han'-
somely on 't; fer, 'cordin' tew Perfesser Huxter,
these kind o' things is wuth more an' more the
older they git."
Amid the laughter that followed this sally,
Chris beat a retreat with his prize. With
blushing face, he hurried up the village street,
and soon turned into an unfrequented lane.
It is n't much to look at, and that's a fact,"
he muttered, seating himself upon a stone and
critically surveying the lamp. "But I wanted
something to remember the old professor by,
for he always seemed to like me, and treated
me better than he did any one else. Any-
how, it must be worth over ten cents. Bill
Skidmore does n't know any more about auc-
tioneering than I do about-astrology. Well,
it's a mighty queer-looking old lamp must be
about a million years old. I wonder what that
inscription on the side is; it looks like Chinese.
I '11 keep the old thing on the mantelpiece in
my room. Guess I can polish it up so that it
will look pretty well."
Chris began the polishing process at once by
vigorously rubbing one side of the lamp with
his coat-sleeve. Scarcely had he done so when






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


a sound like a clap of thunder caused him to
spring to his feet. A thick-cloud of smoke, the
origin of which was not apparent, surrounded
him. It rapidly cleared away, and the startled
boy saw standing before him a figure the like
of which he never had seen unless in the pages
of a picture-book by some highly imaginative
writer, or in a dream after an indigestible supper.
It was the figure of a being perhaps ten feet
in height and clad in an Oriental costume em-
broidered with strange devices. Its hair was
thick and waving and of snowy whiteness, as
was its beard. Fixing its dark, piercing eyes
upon the boy's face, this creature demanded
in a deep, thunderous voice:
"Well, what is it ? "
"I I d-don't quite understand y-you, sir,"
stammered the terrified Chris.
"I ask you," said the strange apparition,
"what it is that you want? As you are, of
course, aware, I am the slave of that lamp and
of its owner."
Why, good gracious!" exclaimed Chris,
gaining courage, "you don't-you can't mean
that this is Aladdin's lamp ? "
"Yes," was the reply; a former owner of the
lamp was named Aladdin. Fine, genial fellow,
too; always liked him, though we parted on
bad terms. Is he a friend of yours ? "
"Friend of mine!" gasped Chris, pinching
himself to.make sure that he was awake; "why,
he 's been dead thousands of years-that is, if
he ever lived at all."
Indeed ? returned the genie for that he
was one of these supernatural beings it seemed
impossible longer to doubt. "I 'm sorry to
hear of his death. As for his having lived, I
can testify to that, for he made things extremely
lively for me for a while-kept me working day.
and night, with hardly time for meals. But to
business: what can I do for you? "
I don't know," said the bewildered lad.
" Give me a minute to think."
"Take all the time you want," responded the
genie, affably. I '11 be glad to do anything I
can for you. Would you like me to give you a
trifling exhibition of my power by transplanting
this entire village to the Desert of Sahara, in-
side of ten seconds ? Itmight amuse you, and
would really be no trouble to me at all."


No, no," said Chris hastily; "don't think of
such a thing."
Just as you say," grumbled the genie, who
seemed somewhat disappointed; "though I
could bring it right back again if you wanted
me to. Suppose I run up a sixteen-story palace
with all modern improvements for you while
you wait ?"
No, no," said Chris, somewhat pettishly; for
the idea that this awful being was, after all,
merely his slave was already becoming a famil-
iar one to him. Keep still, can't you ? and let
me reflect."
"Enough said," returned the genie, with an
injured air; and he seated himself upon the
ground, clasped his knees with his hands, and
closed his eyes.
The thought occurred to Chris that if any
one happened to come along, the situation
would be rather embarrassing. How could he
explain the genie's presence without revealing
what he had already determined to keep a
profound secret-the wondrous power he had
so unexpectedly acquired ?
I say!" he cried; and the genie opened his
eyes, and sleepily asked:
"Well, what is it? "
"No offense," said Chris, who felt some deli-
cacy about referring to the matter, "but-but
as you 're not acquainted in these parts, and as
you are so-so different from other folk, I 'd
rather not have you seen--at least, not just at
present."
"I see; you want me to make myself invisi-
ble. That 's very easily done. Give the old
lamp a rub when you are ready for me again."
"Hold on! "` interposed Chris, for the genie
had already begun to fade away; when you
come back, is it necessary for you to be accom-
panied by thunder and smoke and all that sort
of thing ?"
"Not absolutely necessary," replied the genie,
with a surprised look; but it has been the cus-
tom of genii from time immemorial."
"Well, it's a mighty poor custom, I think,"
said Chris; "and I 'd be obliged if you would n't
do it any more."
"Just as you say," returned the genie, sullenly.
"And another thing: if what I have read is
true, a genie can take any shape he chooses."


I39






140


CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP. [DEC.
Sh.1ll I lgi.n? And how shall I appear
N,, rstr "t?


SNo. n1:,." said Chris; I wish you
i wouldd n't mike so many foolish sug-
gesti:on. I only wanted to say that
thete' n:, ;rnse in your appearing as
an old nima nearly a dozen feet high,
S)n 0 :l I ae your choice of so many
m,-.!le attra,:'ve shapes."
Force u:i habit merely force of
i'alit." -idi tile genie stiffly. "I will try
Ct.: meet your wishes on my return. Any-
ithing more"
No N,-t ilt now."
i he gren vanished.
Clin; :lrevi a long breath. It all
--eemel like a dream, but it was n't one.
A*m The :lind.erltdil lamp lay upon the ground
i wlere it Iad fallen at the moment of
:the belle'ss -udden appearance; yonder
I were the old sawmill, and
the Methodist Church,
and the- railway depot,
and the Dusenbury Acad-
emy.
,, The Dusenbury Acad-
.t4 emy! Chris's heart sank
., as he gazed at its cold,
.. gray walls. Then a sud-
*;. den happy thought struck
6_9 him, at which his face
le lighted up, and he
laughed aloud.
I 'll do it!" he ex-
claimed. "If he 's as
powerful as he pretends
to be, and as he used to
be when Aladdin owned
-- the lamp, it will be a
mere trifle for him to do
what I wish."
The boy seized the
-. lamp and rubbed it. In-
"THIS CREATURE DEMANDED IN A DEEP, THUNDEROUS VOICE: 'WELL, WHAT IS IT ?", stantly, the figure of a
little old man dressed in
Yes," replied Chris's companion, with ani- modern costume, his hands grasping the lapels
nation; and if you say the word, I will of his coat, appeared on the exact spot where the
guarantee to take one hundred separate and genie had stood when he faded from view.
distinct shapes, including a complete change "Well, here I am," said this personage, dis-
of costume in each case, inside of ten minutes. contentedly; "but I must say I don't like this.





CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


commonplace way of making my appearance.
You might allow me a little red fire at least."
"Is that you ?" exclaimed Chris, startled in
spite of himself. "I never should have known
you."
"I suppose not; I 've changed a good deal
since we last met. You 're not quite used to
my ways yet. Well, have you made up your
mind what you want?"
Yes."


Then why are n't you there now ? inquired
the genie. Is n't there any school to-day ?"
"Well, yes," confessed Chris, blushing a little;
"but I-well, the fact is I did n't feel like
going."
Not to put too fine a point on it," said the
genie, you are playing hookey."
He looked, in his new guise, so remarkablylike
little old Professor Brown, the Latin teacher,
that Chris actually quailed before his glance.


ALg~


"THE FIGURE OF A LITTLE OLD MAN DRESSED IN MODERN COSTUME APPEARED."


"What is it? eight or ten million dollars'
worth of precious stones ? Why, certainly, I-"
"Nonsense! interrupted Chris. "What do
I want of precious stones? What I am going
to ask of you is something a good deal easier
than that."
Nothing could be easier."
"Will you please stop interrupting? Do you
see that big stone building over yonder ?"
Call that big ?" exclaimed the genie, scorn-
fully. You ought to have seen the palace I
built for Aladdin. Why, honest, it-"
"Never mind that now. That building is
the Dusenbury Academy, and I am one of its
pupils."


That 's about it," he replied sheepishly.
Humph-! Well, what do you want me
to do?"
"I '11 tell you. You can fix yourself up to
look like me, can't you?"
Of course I can."
"Well, do it."
The next instant, Chris saw, standing before
him, a boy the exact counterpart of himself,
even to the minutest detail of costume.
"Well, that beats me!" he exclaimed, in
amazement.
"That 's nothing," said the genie, compla-
cently. What do you want me to do next ?"
Do you understand algebra?"


id


~


--






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


"I should say I did."
"I don't, and I don't believe I ever shall.
Somehow, I can't get it through my head. It
was algebra that kept me from going to school
to-day. Now, you take these books"-Chris
produced them from under his coat-"and go
up to the academy. You 'll be in time for the
recitation in algebra. You 're sure you can
pass yourself off for me?"
"There 's no room for doubt on that point";
and the genie turned to go.
"Hold on a minute! I forgot to tell you
one thing: you 'll be thrashed for being late.
You don't mind that, do you?"
Oh, not in the least," replied the genie, sar-
castically. I shall rather enjoy it, I imagine.
Say," he added appealingly, can't you think
of anything for me to do except this ? It's
very humiliating, don't you know, for a spirit
of my power and influence to submit to this
sort of thing."
I know it must be," said Chris, uncompro-
misingly, "but I can't help it. Make any good
excuse you can think of for being late, and
maybe you '11 escape the thrashing. I doubt
it, though; and I advise you to hurry along, for
the later you are the worse caning you are
likely to get."
Upon hearing this, the genie started off at a
rapid pace.
Chris stood and watched him until he was
out of sight. The spectacle of himself, his
books under his arm, climbing up the hill that
led to the academy, and finally disappearing
within the portals of that institution, aroused
,yery singular sensations within his breast. He
was not exactly satisfied with the condition of
affairs. To be sure, he had escaped the alge-
bra recitation, and the genie was going to suffer
his punishment; but would he not to-morrow
be as badly off as ever ?
And suppose the genie, who could not be
expected to know much about the rules and
regulations of establishments like the Dusen-
bury Academy, should in some way misbehave
himself and bring down disgrace upon the head
of his master ? Chris resolved that his double
should disappear forever as soon as school was
over.
Taking up his lamp, the boy walked slowly


homeward. He had gone but a short distance
when he met old Jared Beckwith, a neighboring
farmer, returning from market.
"Why, haow 's this?" cried the old man,
bringing his team to a standstill. Haow 'd
yeou git down here, Chris ? "
"What do you mean, Mr. Beckwith ?"
"Wal," was the response, "this is the blamed-
est thing ever Isee. I met you jest naow up by
the academy an' haow yeou got down here is
more 'n I kin bigger aout. Ain't tew on yeou,
be there ?"
Chris hurried away, reflecting that he must
be more careful if he did not want his secret
to become public property.
Let me see," he mused; I know mother's
out, and there 's nobody in the house but Hul-
dah. I '11 steal up to my room and hide the
lamp, and then I '11 go and head off the genie
on his way back from school."
The first part of this program was successfully
carried out. Chris reached his room unseen,
concealed the lamp, and beat a retreat without
being discovered. But when he took his posi-
tion in a lane through which he knew the genie
must pass, he was startled to see that eccentric
spirit approaching, not alone, but in company
with Fanny Ingalls, Doctor Ingalls's daughter,
for whom Chris had long cherished a somewhat
tender feeling.
The boy hastily concealed himself behind a
clump of sumac bushes.
"Really, Chris," he heard Fanny say, as she
and her companion passed, "you astonished
everybody with your algebra to-day. Why, it
was only Monday that Professor Cipher said
you were the worst pupil in algebra in the
school, and yet this morning you asked him
questions that he could n't answer, and worked
out some of the hardest problems in the book,
as quick as lightning. I think you 're awful
smart, Chris."
Oh, what I did this morning was nothing,"
said the genie, airily; and Chris heard no more.
I '11 put a short stop to this sort of thing,"
he said fiercely. "When he comes back from
dinner, I '11 get him to change himself into some-
thing else in double-quick time."
But, as luck would have it, Chris's mother
accompanied the genie back to school, and the






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


boy had no chance to speak to him. And after
school a number of the boys went home with
him and played in the barn until dark. Then
they departed, and the genie went into the house,
apparently without a thought of his master.
All this the wildly indignant and half-fam-
ished Chris observed from a distance.
How long does he mean to keep up this sort
of thing?" he exclaimed, as, seated by the
roadside, he saw his father and mother and his
double seat themselves at the supper-table.
"He must know that I am waiting out here
somewhere, and he '11 come out after supper."
But he did n't. When the meal was over, the
genie and Chris's father played a game of
checkers, and then the bogus Chris arose and
went up-stairs.
In about ten minutes the boy saw the light
in his own sleeping-room extinguished. His
double was now undoubtedly snugly tucked
under the sheets, while he stood, shivering and
hungry, outside his father's house.
Oh, if I only had that lamp, I 'd bring him
down in a jiffy he muttered. But if I went
in to get it now, I should have to tell the whole
story, and I won't do that. I'11 wait until morn-
ing-then I can get it easily enough."
He managed to make his way into the barn,
and was soon fast asleep in the haymow.

CHAPTER II.

THE hoarse crowing of a rooster awakened
Chris from a dream in which he and his double
had been engaged in a hand-to-hand combat,
with the odds very much in favor of the genie.
"It 's to-morrow morning," muttered the
boy, sleepily. It won't be long before every-
thing is all right again. I can slip in quietly
now, and the way I '11 make him change him-
self back into an old man won't be slow. Gra-
cious, how hungry I am! It seems as if I
could n't wait till breakfast-time."
He climbed down the ladder and stepped
out briskly in the fresh, clear morning air.
I suppose he 's asleep," he mused bitterly.
" It would be just my luck if he did n't get up
till eight o'clock. But what 's the matter?
There 's a light in my room! And mother 's
up there! Maybe-"


At this moment the front door flew open and
Chris's father rushed out, half dressed. He
ran across the road to Dr. Ingalls's house, and
gave the bell a violent pull. Almost immedi-
ately the doctor's head appeared at an upper
window, and Chris heard him ask:
"Who 's there ?"
"It 's Wagstaff," was the reply. Chris has
been taken suddenly ill. I don't know what 's
the matter with him, but I 'm afraid it 's some-
thing serious. Come right over, Doctor, please."
"I '11 be there directly."
The doctor's gray head disappeared, and
Chris's father recrossed the road at a bound
and entered the house again.
The boy seemed to turn cold all over.
"The genie sick!" he exclaimed. "What
can that mean ? He is n't used to being a boy,
and maybe it has disagreed with him. Oh, if I
only could see him alone a minute, or get at
that lamp !"
But he could not; and he stood trembling
from head to foot with cold and apprehension,
until he saw Dr. Ingalls enter his father's house.
It was nearly half an hour before the front
door opened again, and the physician reap-
peared, accompanied by Chris's father.
"You don't consider it anything serious?"
Mr. Wagstaff asked anxiously.
"I think not," replied the doctor. I must
confess that the case puzzles me somewhat;
but I am inclined to believe that Chris will be
much better before night."
Mrs. Wagstaff and I wanted to go to Hart-
ford this morning," said Chris's father; "but I
guess we 'd better postpone the trip."
"That is not necessary," replied the doctor.
"Chris is in no immediate danger; you may as
well go if your business is of any importance."
The door was again closed, and Chris was
once more alone.
"There's no knowing how long he '11 be
sick," mused the boy, despairingly. One
thing is certain: he won't go to school, and I
may not have a chance to see him to-day.
What shall I do? Maybe I 'd better go in
and tell the whole story. No, I won't do that
yet. I '11 go back to the barn and wait until
father and mother start for the city. Then I'11
sneak out and go up to my room and get the







CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


lamp. Then, if I don't make that genie provide
me a square meal, my name is n't Chris Wag-
staff! I '11 have sausages, raspberry jam, and
a whole mince-pie."
He returned to the barn, climbed up to his
old place in the haymow, and, despite his hun-
ger and excitement, fell asleep.
It was broad daylight when he again awoke.
The clock in the kitchen was striking the hour.
"Nine o'clock!" exclaimed Chris, springing


ance by turning a triple somersault, landing on
his feet directly in front of the evidently aston-
ished Huldah.
How 's that?" he asked smilingly.
"Well, I never!" gasped the girl. "Why,
I had n't any idea you was so clever, Chris.
Why have n't you done these things afore ?"
You never asked me to," replied the genie.
"Want me to sing another comic song?" he
continued.


`1I I,






i i !I j.


"HE ENDED HIS REMARKABLE PERFORMANCE BY TURNING A TRIPLE SOMERSAULT."


up. I never slept so late before. Whew! I 'm
hungry! I must have something to eat, and
that mighty soon. Now, to get into the house!"
As he was descending the ladder, he heard
loud laughter in the voice of Huldah, the maid
of all work. Then, Oh, that's nothing! was
shouted in the genie's voice-no, in Chris's own.
"What is he up to now ?" muttered Chris.
He hurried to the barn door and peeped out.
His position commanded a view of the
kitchen window, which was open. Inside the
room he saw his counterpart indulging in a
series of the most extraordinary antics.
Presently he ended his remarkable perform-


"Why, yes, if you know any more."
"I know more songs than you could shake a
stick at. How does the idea of an Irish song
and a breakdown strike you ? "
The genie proceeded to sing a ditty so excru-
ciatingly funny that Huldah became almost
purple in the face from laughter, and even
Chris forgot his woes for the time and doubled
up with irrepressible merriment.
It was while the genie was dancing the break-
down that the eager boy managed at last to
catch his eye.
In energetic pantomime, Chris commanded
him to come out to the barn at once. But the


[DEc.


A V .






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


sprightly genie only winked at him, and kept
right on with his dance.
"He won't obey! muttered Chris, in great
dismay. "What dbes that mean? He never
behaved that way toward Aladdin."
Anything more you 'd like this morning? ".
asked the genie, bringing the dance to an end.
Shall I do a few sleight-of-hand tricks ? "
No; I guess you'd better go and leave me
to do my work," replied Huldah. "But say,
there 's one thing I wish you could do. When
I was in the city, my aunt took me to the
theater, and I saw a man walk on the ceiling
just like a fly."
"Why, I originated that act," interrupted the
genie. "Keep your eye on me."
He gave a spring, and the next moment was
walking on the kitchen ceiling, apparently with
the utmost ease. Huldah watched him in open-
mouthed amazement. When he had dropped
gracefully to the floor, she said: "Why, where
in the world did you learn to do that ? "
Oh, I know lots of other tricks," answered
the genie, evasively. "But I guess I '11 go out
and take a walk."
"Your ma said you was n't to go outside the
house to-day," objected Huldah.
"I 'm going, all the same"; and the genie
tripped out of the kitchen door, and started in
the direction of the barn.
Chris dodged out of sight just in time to es-
cape the notice of the girl. As the genie en-
tered the bar, Chris fiercely slammed the door.
Then he said: "Well, here you are at last."
Here I am," was the smiling response. "I
thought I might as well come out and see what
you wanted. Fine morning, is n't it ? "
Ignoring the polite query, Chris said:
I '11 tell you what I want, mighty quick: I
want something to eat."
"Hungry, eh ?" said the genie, laconically.
Yes, I am. Ard as soon as my breakfast is
ready, you can disappear."
"Anything else ?" inquired the genie, with
an ill-concealed. smile.
"That 's all at present. Now, please hurry
the breakfast. I '11 take it right here. Just
give me some sausages, scrambled eggs, rolls -"
One moment," interrupted the genie. I
can't accommodate you."
VOL. XXII.-19.


"What do you mean ?" cried Chris.
"Just what I say. I 'm no caterer, my
young friend."
B-but you 're the slave of the lamp, are n't
you ? stammered the astonished Chris in great
dismay.
That 's what I am."
"Well, I 'm the owner of the lamp, and-"
I beg your pardon," interrupted the genie,
"but you 're not."
I 'm-not ?" shouted Chris.
"You are not," repeated the genie, quietly.
"Who is, then?" demanded the boy, hotly.
Huldah. Now keep quiet a moment and
I '11 explain. You see, I was sick this morning
and your mother went to the closet in your
room to get a comfortable to put over me. Be-
hind the big pile of bed-clothing she found the
lamp, which I suppose you hid there; and a
mighty foolish thing it was for you to do, in my
opinion. But never mind that. Your mother gave
the lamp to Huldah, with permission to do what
she pleased with it. That 's the whole story."
But," cried Chris, don't you see that I am
the real owner of the lamp, still? My mother
had no right to give it away."
"That 's a nice point of law which I do not
care to discuss," said the genie, with a bored
look. "I recognize Huldah as the owner of
the lamp, and that settles the matter."
But it does n't settle it," exclaimed Chris,
angrily. I bought it and paid for it, and it 's
mine. I order you to bring me my breakfast."
The genie quietly seated himself on an in-
verted bushel-basket, humming an air.
"You won't do it ? demanded Chris.
"I certainly shall not," was the response.
"Well, then," cried the boy, in desperation,
"will you disappear, or change yourself into
somebody else? "
"I can't do it, my boy," replied the genie.
"I 'm perfectly well satisfied with my present
shape, and I don't propose to change it just
now. Do you know? I rather like your folks.
I think I shall get along here first-rate."
But what will become of me ? demanded
Chris, in desperation.
The genie shrugged his shoulders.
"I really don't know," he said. "You 'll
have to look out for yourself. You got yourself


1894.]






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


into the scrape, you '11 have to get yourself out
of it. You can't blame me for what has hap-
pened, you know-if you stop to think of it. I
did exactly what you bade me as long as you had
possession of the lamp-you can't deny that."
I don't deny it," said Chris. "But see here,
you might do me a little favor."
The genie shook his head.
"Are you utterly heartless ?" cried poor
Chris, almost sobbing.
"Why, of course I am," laughed the genie;
"I 'm heartless, lungless, liverless, boneless.
You don't seem to have grasped the idea that
I 'm a genie."
"Well, see here," said Chris, after a dismal
pause, "if I get the lamp, you '11 be my slave
again, won't you ? "
"Beyond the shadow of a doubt."
"Then I '11 go and get it now"; and the boy
started for the door.
"All right; I '11 go with you," responded the
genie, linking his arm with Chris's.
Why, that won't do," cried the lad, aghast.
" Huldah would see us together, and then -"
That 's just the point," interrupted the genie.
"You don't seem to have any sense of humor.
Just think how astonished she will be when she
sees us coming along, the exact counterparts of
each other What a study her face will be -
eh, Chris? Come on "
But Chris held him back by main force.
"No, no! he cried. I would n't have
Huldah see us for a hundred dollars."
Pooh! sneered the genie, with the utmost
disdain, "I 'd give a million or two at any time
for a little sport like this. Are n't you coming?"
"No, I am not," replied Chris, emphatically.
"Wait a moment," he added appealingly; I
want to ask you a few questions."
"Well, go ahead," said the genie, somewhat
impatiently; "what do you want to know? "
I 'd like to know what was the matter with
you this morning when the doctor was called."
The genie laughed heartily. "Nothing, no-
thing whatever," he said. "I was playing sick."
"Playing sick? What for?"
Why, because I did n't want to go to school
this morning. I got the idea from the boy who
sat next me yesterday; I forget his name."
Scotty Jones ?" suggested Chris.


"That 's the fellow. I told him I considered
the whole business an awful bore, and he ad-
vised me to make believe that I was sick this
morning. As you know, I did so. I pretended
to have a frightful cold. You ought to have
seen me. You know I have facilities for that
sort of thing which you do not possess. My
face was swollen so badly that I could hardly
open my eyes, and I could scarcely speak. Your
father and mother were very much frightened, I
can tell you."
"What was the use of getting them up so
early ?" said Chris. "Why did n't you wait till
seven or eight o'clock ? "
I did n't know that was the proper thing
to do. You see, I never was a school-boy be-
fore in my life. But it turned out all right."
You're sure you did n't give Scotty a hint,"
began Chris, anxiously.
"That I was a genie? Oh, no, I 'm too
sharp for that. I 'm not that kind of a genie. At
that time I was working in your interests, and
of course I would n't say anything that might
compromise you. Nor do your father and
mother suspect anything yet. While on the
subject, I must say that they and the doctor
did all they could to make me easy. They left
me tucked up in bed very comfortably; and
I should probably be there now if Huldah
had n't rubbed the lamp."
Oh, that's how you happened to be in the
kitchen, is it ? cried the boy.
Of course it is."
"You did n't tell her that you were a genie,
did you ?" asked Chris.
"No, I believe I did n't; though there 's no
particular reason why I should not have done
so. I only asked her what she wanted, and she
said nothing in particular, but that she thought
South Dusenbury was an awful slow place, and
she wished a circus would come to town. I re-
plied that I was a whole circus myself, and of-
fered to prove it. The rest you know."
Well, don't tell her what you are, will you ?"
pleaded Chris. "Don't tell her just yet, anyhow.
I 'm sure to have the lamp again pretty soon, and
then it would be very awkward if she knew."
"I can't help that," said the genie. "I-
but hold on! she 's rubbing the old lamp now."
The next moment he had disappeared.


(To be continued.)


146











THE MARTYRDOM OF A POET.

BY MARION HILL.


REX stood at the foot of the stairway and
scowled up that innocent vista. Who has the
ink ?" he shouted, in a high, aggrieved tone.
Madge," answered that young woman her-
self. Her voice came from above-from her
own room, probably.
The scowl which deepened on Rex's face
was not an ill-tempered frown; it was merely
the Dunbar wrinkle of earnestness, and showed
on all their young foreheads. It was particu-
larly noticeable on Rex's handsome face, for
he was the most earnest of the four of them.
Rex, by the by, would have been astounded at
hearing himself called handsome, for he had
red hair, and thought that circumstance "did
for him," to use his own lugubrious phrase.
Please let me have the ink," he called
again, after a fruitless pause.
"What do you want it for? asked Madge,
unrelentingly.
"To do my Latin."
"It is ridiculous to think that it is the ink';
it is as bad as to have to ask for the needle,'
or the tooth-brush,' or the hair-pin.' It is a
shame not to have two bottles," came floating
down-stairs in Madge's most precise utterance.
"It is; it's a howling sin. But hand over
the fluid, please."
"I can't; I 'm using it."
"You always are, lately. What do you do
with it, pray ? Drink it ? "
Rex bounded up-stairs. Madge, wise in ex-
perience, flew to her door and succeeded in
locking it in his face; so he took the only sat-
isfaction in his power-the illogical one of be-
stowing a few useless thumps on the panels.
Madge ironically murmured, Come in."
Oh, I '11 get even," said Rex, cheerfully.
Do."
"When I get your precious ink, I '11 take
care that you don't get it again in a hurry.
I '11 hide it; I '11 sleep on it; I '11 put it-"


"On your hair, where it is needed," finished
Madge.
"I '11 pay you for that, too," announced
Rex, departing down the passage.
In his own room he found an interloper, his
brother Benny, a small, small youth just out of
baby dresses. Knitting his brows and putting
forth strength, Rex seized this inoffensive party
by his numerous waistbands and lifted him in
the air and held him there rigidly, while Benny
shrieked with mirth and agony, and twisted,
and howled, and suffered, and enjoyed him-
self awesomely until lowered safely to the floor
by this strong, big brother who always came
home just at this hour from some mysterious
place called High School."
Hullo, Wex," panted Benny, at the conclu-
sion of this ceremony.
"Hullo. What have you been doing with
yourself all day? "
Putting f'owers on Bingo's' gwave."
Bingo was Madge's much-loved kitten, which
had died a week ago.
"Good boy. Where 's mother ?"
"In her sewin'-machin'," was the lucid reply,
Rex strolled into the sewing-room, and
chatted a few minutes, entertaining his mother
with school anecdotes. He was an undemon-
strative boy, and would rather be thrashed
than be caught kissing any of his family; but
he was of an affectionate nature, and these af-
ternoon chats were regular institutions.
After sitting on a half-made dress, and mess-
ing up some spools, and spouting machine-oil
out of the can, Rex wandered away down-
stairs to find something to eat, as if he were
a boy of ten instead of a young man of sixteen.
He found his younger sister helping herself
to cake out of the dining-room cupboard.
Aha! caught you stealing! he cried, noting
with deep pleasure that she jumped at least
a foot.






THE MARTYRDOM OF A POET.


I 'm not," wailed Carrie; mother told me
I might."
For safety she crammed as much as she
could into her mouth, and then made cautious
efforts to get the table between herself and
Rex. In her interviews with that young man













I -















"'WHO HAS THE INK?' REX SHOUTED."
she never felt secure unless behind some bul-
wark. Madge was too old for him to inflict
bodily injury upon her, and Benny was too
young, but she, unfortunately, was just right, as
her every aching bone and muscle could testify.
Hast thou some ink, Carolina?" he in-
quired, making a futile snatch at her long
braid of hair as she hurried past.
Ink? she echoed, though the word sounded
like Ok ? so full was her mouth.
Ink, damsel. The fair Margaret useth the
family consignment, and I crave some, crav-
ingly."
"I '11 lend you my stylographic pen."
I thank thee."
She presented him the pen, in a defensive
attitude, with elbow raised; for Rex's requests


were generally lures to bring her within clutch-
ing-distance, and never more so than when his
phrasing was dramatic. But he peaceably ac-
cepted the loan, and set to work upon his
translation.
Carrie sat companionably on the edge of the
table, and watched him. Terror must have its
charms, for she was always hovering near him
even when black and blue from his attentions.
"Is Latin hard ? she asked amiably.
"Not hard enough to crack nuts on, nor soft
enough to sit on." To compose this reply, he
rested from- his labor and held his pen in sus-
pension, so that a blob of ink oozed dejectedly
from the point and splashed upon the exercise.
"Thunder," he remarked mildly. He con-
tended that this objectionable expletive was
harmless if uttered non-explosively; and he set
to work again with a conscience void of offense.
"Have you seen poor little Bingo's grave
since we fixed it ?" asked Carrie, sinking her
voice to the apologetic hoarseness of those who
tread upon the skirts of grief.
That pleasure is in reserve," said Rex, add-
ing a placid "thunder" as a second blob fell:
"Will you have to write that over ? asked
Carrie.
"Looks like it," said Rex, thoughtfully view-
ing his work, and inanely holding his pen so
that a third disfigurement dripped from the
generous instrument.
Thunder three times," announced Rex, lay-
ing down his weapon. "If the recording.angel
would only employ a stylographic pen, he would
n't have to use his tears to blot out his entries.
I will ascend the stairs and see if oh-rare-pale-
Margaret is ready to relinquish her grip on the
family bottle."
He found the once-locked door open, and
Madge sitting pensively at her window.
Done with this ?" he asked sarcastically,
with his hand on the bottle.
Quite," replied Madge.
As was his invariable custom, he accidentally
spilled some drops, and seized a crumpled wad
Sof paper from Madge's waste-basket to sop
them up, carrying the paper with him in case
of further mishaps.
When he reentered the dining-room he found
it deserted, and he worked at his translation


[DEC,






THE MARTYRDOM OF A POET.


uninterruptedly. It was nearly dinner-time
when he finished. Before clearing away his
books, he sat for a few minutes in lazy content,
and unconsciously smoothed out the scrap of
paper he had brought from Madge's room, and
read what was written thereon. The inscription
was so cabalistic that he read it again and again,
and finally set himself to a downright study of it.
What he saw was -




i ;- S I -.. -r .
.a7.








The more he puzzled over it, the less he made



of it. Madge's writing, surely, but what had
she gone off on a string of ings for? Unless -
why, to be sure! -Miss Sentimental had taken
to writing poetry! Evidently love-poetry, too!
The various rhymes to sing she had arranged
in a group for convenience. Rex smiled a
broad smile, and blessed the kind fate which
had placed this means of torture in his hands.
If he could get hold of some completed
"poems," it would be a grand idea to memo-
rize them; a time would surely arrive when he
could repeat them with stirring effect. The
plot was too good a one to give up, and, any-
how, he had a score to settle with Madge at
once; so, with delight in his heart, he sped
up-stairs to ransack Madge's desk. He lifted
the lid, but had no time to choose, for he heard
Madge's step approaching; so, appropriating
a random handful of papers, and stuffing them
into his pocket, he escaped from the room.
"What were you doing there ?" she asked,
coming suddenly upon him.
"Avenging my wrongs," he replied enig-
matically.
The dinner-bell rang just then, and he gave
it prompt obedience by flinging himself upon


the balusters, and thereby reaching the lower
floor in the shortest possible time.
After dinner the Dunbars, who were a soci-
able family, all gathered in the sitting-room
and entertained one another, and themselves,
with books, or games, or conversation. Benny,
of course, was not a member of this charmed
circle, he being in the land of dreams.
Pretty Madge, who had artistic aspirations,
drew out her paints and worked upon a picture.
Rex hung over her chair, manifesting a fiend's
interest in her sketch, criticizing, advising, ex-
horting, and extravagantly commending, till she
lost all heart, and said indignantly:
"Oh, Rex, do go away and leave me alone!
No one can stand such persecution. It would
not be a wonder if I never turned out to be
anything, so disheartening is your teasing!"
"'Turn out'! What an expression.for a
young lady of culture! You turn out' a team,
or you '.turn out' your toes, miss; but you
'develop into' a poet--ifyou are lucky /"
Madge looked up at him in sudden conster-
nation. Rex returned the gaze with interest,
and murmured dreamily, "Cling, wing, sing,
ring-a-ching-ching, ting-a-ling."
"Oh, Rex!" cried Madge, starting to her
feet and clasping her hands in agony.
"Ladies and gentlemen," began Rex, back-
ing into the center of the room, and drawing
some papers from his pocket, "it gives me
great pleasure to introduce to the reading pub-
lic the verses of the talented young author
Miss Margaret Dunbar."
"Rex, give them to me!" shrieked Madge,
grasping vainly at her precious papers, and
throwing herself upon her tormentor. Rex
found an unexpected ally in Carrie, who clung
to her suffering sister, and shrilly piped:
I '11 hold her for you, Rexie; go on! "
"What have we here ?" continued Rex, ex-
amining the topmost sheet. I must state that
I myself have never before had the pleasure of
hearing these gems of literature, and must con-
fess to being all agog. Let me read you the
first which reveals itself to my gaze. It is
entitled What More ?'"
"Oh, father, stop him! Mother, stop him! "
begged Madge, writhing in Carrie's coils.
"Stop what, dear?" asked Mrs. Dunbar, to


3894.]







THE MARTYRDOM OF A POET.


whom this excitement was but a sample of the
hourly, harmless scrimmages indulged in by her
lively brood.
No interruptions," hastily said Rex, reading
in a great hurry, and with a burlesque tone of
sorrow:
WHAT MORE?
To dream and see the dead,
To wake and wish you dreamed;
To sift a friend and find that he
Was not the friend he seemed;
To smile, and bleed at heart;
To weep, and find it bliss,-
On those sad days when hope falls dead,
What more seems life than this?


"'NO INTERRUPTIONS,' SAID REX, READING IN A GREAT
TONE OF SORROW."
"Give me the rest, Rex, I beg of you," im-
plored Madge, her face scarlet with the ordeal;
yet she felt an odd thrill of satisfaction, too, in
hearing her verses fall from other lips.
"The second effusion," continued Rex, un-
moved, "is harrowing in its pathos. Allow me:


LINES TO -MY DEAD KITTEN.
I PRESS my face against your form,
I say good-by, my dear;
My tears fall on your snowy coat,-
Do you neither see nor hear?
Only a cat, a soulless cat!
Ah, let those chide who will,
I mourn unshamed o'er my little friend
So strangely cold and still.

Carrie contritely relaxed her hold, and hied
herself to the sofa. "Poor little 'Bingo-bingo'!
Seems 's if I can see her now," she sobbed.
Carrie was always an impressionable young
person, and shed tears with frightful ease.
"Too long,"
said Rex, criti-
cally. "I flatter
myself I could
be briefer:
Little cat, little
cat,
Now defunct,
where are
you at?

Mere hyste-
Sria wrung from
Carrie a stran-
gling snort of
amusement,and
Rex resumed
jubilantly :
This third
selection bids
fair to be flatter-
ing, for it seems
to be addressed
to me."
Having tried
physical force
in vain, Madge
here tried to
appeal to Rex's
soul, and
HURRY, AND WITH A BURLESQUE
failed.
"Dear Rex," she said earnestly, "if you
read that, I will never forgive you."
Dear Madge," echoed Rex, just as ear-
nestly, "if I should lay it aside unread after
seeing its alluring title, I should never forgive
myself.


[DEC.







THE MARTYRDOM OF A POET.


REX, MY KING.
A CROWN you wear on your sunny hair--
The royal crown of youth;
And a jewel lies in your steadfast eyes,
Those turquoise wells of truth.
Not a word you say but I store away,
As a song for my heart to sing.
Be you far or near, your voice I hear,
Oh, Rex, my brother, my king!
"This does n't seem to me as funny as I
thought it," mumbled Rex, flushing guiltily.
"Here, Madge, take your old poems! Who
wants them!"
Madge eagerly took the offered papers, but
Carrie, failing to see that the humor had gone
out of the thing, made a clever grab, secured
them, and skipped across the room, where she
stood dancing in monkeyish enjoyment at hav-
ing a hand in the game, while she read in a
clear gabble:
You need not roam from your childhood's home,
A kingdom to seek or subdue;
For we who dwell neathh your loving spell,
Are your subjects loyal and true.
And your kingdom, dear, you can find it here,
Without any wandering;
So, I pray you, deign in our hearts to reign,
Oh, Rex, my brother, my king!
"That's enough of that! commanded Rex,
angrily. He was honestly contrite at having
laid bare Madge's innocent affection for himself.
No, it is n't," said Carrie, obtusely; "there's
another verse.
We cannot confess all our tenderness
In this practical world of ours;
And my soul I shrine, 0 brother mine,
As a violet shrines its flowers.
No fear have I that you '11 ever pry
Through these lines where my heart I fling;
And you '1l never know that I loved you so,
O Rex, my brother, my king!
Rather an awkward pause fell for a moment
upon the family, as they recognized that Rex
and Carrie, between them, had been bawling
out Madge's sacred little secrets. Madge her-
self, trembling with indignation, rose from her
chair, and said bitterly:
"I hope you are all satisfied." Then she
burst into tears and left the room.
Rex did not quite know what to do. He
looked askance at his father and mother, and
felt abused because they had so solemn an air.


Then he glanced accidentally at Carrie, and felt
like choking her. The grinning little ninny!
What business had she to be amused ? Finally,
he stuck his hands in his pockets and stalked
out of the room, not to find Madge-oh, no !-
but he noticed that she was n't in the parlor,
nor the library, nor the music-room, nor in any
of the bedrooms. There was only the cheerless
play-room left.
"Madge, are you there?" he asked, put-
ting his head into the darkness. There was
no answer; but the silence proved nothing, so
he began to explore the apartment. He went
about it, after the fashion of most people in the
dark, with his eyes tightly shut and his arms
waving wildly around. After a slow progress,
he was rewarded by stumbling over a small foot
which drew itself out of his path. He stood
in abject silence for a while.
"Madge, I 'm sorry," he said at last.
"Go away," came in a strangled whisper.
"Will you forgive me, Madge ?" he asked.
"Go away, I tell you!"
"I '11 never go to your desk again, Madge,
truly."
"It 's too late now." At the recollection
of her wrongs, she broke into a fresh gush of
tears. Then she experienced the surprise of
her life. Rex, the hard-hearted, the unsenti-
mental, knelt down beside her in the darkness,
and took her hand. His voice, too, was aston-
ishingly husky as he said:
"Won't you please stop crying? Don't you
think I feel mean enough without that? I
did n't know a fellow could feel so mean at
finding out that his sister loved him. But-
but-it won't hurt me to know it, Madge!"
She felt a soft kiss laid upon her cheek!
What next! Why, next, Madge had an odd
sense of being herself the culprit. What had he
done so very wrong? She mentally reviewed
the whole occurrence, and in spite of herself
she discovered a ludicrous side to the tragedy.
Get up," she said briefly.
"Am I forgiven? "
"I suppose so."
"Quite ?"
"Quite;-right, smite, tight, blight," she said,
giving way to uncontrollable mirth.
And peace was restored.


























4 n T i 51 t rnn a i ;
-aby Florence My Alt <-< .

ON Christmas eve, the king, disconsolate,
Weary with all the round of pomp and state,
Gave whisper to his fool: "A merry way
Have I bethought to spend our holiday.
Thou shalt be king, and I the fool will be-
And thou shalt rule the court in drollery
For one short day!" With caper, nod, and grin,
Full saucily replied the harlequin:
"A merry play; and, sire, amazing strange
For one of us to suffer such a change !
But thou? Why, all the kings of earth," said he,
"Have played the fool, and played it skilfully!"
Then the king's laugh stirred all the arras dim,
Till courtiers wondered at his humor grim.

And so it chanced, when wintry sunbeams shone
From Christmas skies, lo! perched upon the throne
Sat Lionel the Fool, in purple drest,
The royal jewels blazing on his breast.

On Christmas morning, too, the king arose,
And donned, with sense of ease, the silken hose
Of blue and scarlet; then the doublet red
With azure slashed; upon his kingly head,
That wearied oft beneath a jeweled crown,
He drew the jingling hood, and tied it down.
All day he crouched amid the chill and gloom-
None seeking him-within the turret room.
But when calm night with starry lamps came down
Her purple stairs, he crept forth to the town.







I .

I-wvr. -r."


As


L: A J-1
.'i "-


VOL. XXII.-20-21.


"' WE HAVE NOT MUCH TO GIVE, DEAR FOOL,' THEY SAID,
'BUT THOU ART COLD; COME SHARE OUR FIRE AND BREAD! "
X53


~i9c~

li~e$lliOlL~gb


:\::
ii


LI


I-






1.






THE FOOL'S CHRISTMAS.


His scanty cape about his shoulders blew,
Close to his face the screening hood he drew.
He knocked first at a cottage of the poor,
And lo! flew open wide the ready door.
"We have not much to give, dear fool," they said,
"But thou art cold; come share our fire and bread!"
With willing hands they freed his cape from snow,
And warmed and cheered him ere they let him go.

And so 't was ever. By the firelight dim
Of many a hearthstone poor they welcomed him;
And children who would shun the king in awe,
Would scamper to the doorway if they saw
The scarlet peak of Lionel's red hood.
" Dear fool," they called him loudly, thou wert good
To bring the frosted cake! Come in and see
Our little Lisbeth--hark! she calls for thee!"

And so 't was ever. On his way the king
With softened heart saw many a grievous thing:
But love he found, and charity. And when
He crept at dawn through palace gates again,
He knew that he who rules by fear alone
May sit securely on his dreaded throne:,
But he who rules by Jove shall find it true
That love, the milder power, is mightier, too.
"Dear fool," he said, "thou art a king, in sooth:
The king of hearts! To-day no farce, but truth!
For I have seen that thou, beneath my rule,
Hast often played the king,-and I the fool!"









FIGHTING A FIRE.


By C. T. HILL.


THE HOUSE-WATCHMAN" AND THE GONGS.


NEAR the door of every engine-house there
is a railed-off space, at the end of which stands
a small desk with a gas-jet beside it. On the
desk are some large books-the roll of the com-
pany, the "blotter," or record of the fires the
company has taken part in extinguishing, and
other journals containing various memoranda in
connection with the working of the department.
At the desk sits a fireman, reading a paper,
perhaps, or maybe putting down in one of the


books the record of some fellow-fireman who
has just gone "off duty" for a short while,
first having obtained the permission of the com-
pany's captain. Near by, somewhere on the
apparatus-floor, possibly another fireman may
be found cleaning out the stalls of the horses,
or keeping bright the metal-work on the
" swinging-harness," but ready in an instant to
assist in hitching up the horses should a call,"
or an alarm, come ringing out from the array


i






FIGHTING A FIRE.


" HITCHING UP."


of instruments ranged along the wall near the
desk.
The man sitting at the desk is the "man
on watch," or house-watchman," as he is
called. One is on duty all the time, alternating
with other members of the company, the day's
length being divided into five watches, as fol-
lows: from 8 A. M. till i P. M.; from i till 6 p. M.;
from 6 P. M. till 12 midnight; from 12 M. till
6 A. M.; and from 6 till 8 A. M. (the "dog-
watch "). Two men are on watch at the "last
watch," or that one from 12 midnight till 6 A. M.,
to facilitate the hitching up of the horses, the
rest of the company being in bed.
Let us look at the various instruments for
receiving the alarm. They are not many, and
are very interesting. I shall describe them
without using any technicalities, for the very
good reason that I don't know anything about
them technically, but can explain them only as
they were explained to me by a fireman.
First, at the lower right-hand side, on a black
walnut base-board, is placed the instrument offi-


cially called the combination," and by the
fireman termed the "joker." Why "joker"
I do not know; but it is probably called the
"combination" because it combines both the
bell for receiving the alarm, and the "trip," or
device for mechanically releasing the horses,
which I shall describe further on.
This is the first bell to ring the alarm, or
number of the station whence the alarm is sent;
but before it rings there is a slight "click"
heard in the Morse instrument placed above
it. This might be called a warning bell," and
by the ordinary listener would not be noticed at
all; but to the quick ear of the man on watch,
and the equally well-trained ears of the horses,
there needs no second stroke to tell them that
an alarm will follow. This "click" is caused
by the opening of the electric circuit in which
the station is situated.
Beside the combination-bell, or "joker," there
is a small weight that slides up and down
a brass rod. It is held in place at the top by
a catch connected with the hammer of the bell;






FIGHTING A FIRE.


and, as this hammer draws back to make the
first stroke of the alarm, it releases this weight,
and the weight slides down the rod. Being
attached by a little chain to a lever projecting
from the side of a clock hanging beside it, the
weight, as it falls, pulls this lever down and
stops the clock, thus showing at what instant
the alarm was received. .
At,the bottom of the rod there is a very large
lever set with a trigger-like catch, and con-
nected by certain mechanism underneath the
floor with the stalls of the horses. The same
falling weight strikes this trigger, also, and re-
leases the lever, and the lever in turn releases
the horses.
Above the combination is placed a Morse
instrument, sounder and key, and beside it a
telephone, to communicate with headquarters
or with other companies, and also a few frames
containing a list of stations that particular com-
pany goes to, on receiving the first, second, or
third alarms.
At the other side, nearly over the desk, is
placed the big gong, twelve or fifteen inches
in diameter, and very loud-sounding. This be-
gins to strike about when the smaller one gets
through; and should the man on watch have
failed to count the number of the station on
the "joker," he will have no difficulty in getting
the number from the big gong, for it strikes


slowly,- that is, slowly in comparison with the
"joker," which rings the number out very fast.
The large gong is very loud, and can be heard
a block away. The company receives four
rounds on the small bell and two on the big
bell; or, more correctly speaking, the number
of the station is rung four times on the "joker"
and twice on the big gong. But it is rarely that
the firemen have to wait to get the signal from
the latter, for before the small bell has rattled
off its four rounds the engine has rolled out of
the house and they are.on the way to the fire.
A light is burning brightly beside the desk;
inside the railed inclosure a fireman sits reading
a newspaper, and with one hand shades his eyes
from the bright glare of the gas-jet in front of
him. Maybe he is dozing; but if he is taking a
quiet nap, he is sleeping as General Grant did
on the eve of battle-with one eye open. In
the rear of one of the stalls another fireman,
pitchfork in hand, is shaking up and arranging
the hay that forms the bed for the horses. A
few passers-by stop for a moment to. look in
through the partly open doorway at the spick-
and-span apparatus always in such perfect or-
der: the harness swinging evenly over the pole
of the engine, the end of which, butted with
brass, shines like polished gold. Already some
of the horses are down on their haunches nib-
bling at a bit of hay, and preparing to go to


"ROLLING TO THE FIRE."- AT FULL SPEED.






FIGHTING A FIRE.


sleep. The telegraph-instruments at the side
keep up an endless clicking and tingling, and
but for these sounds all would be very quiet.
Overhead, in the "bunk-room," or dormitory,
the men are preparing to "turn in," but a
few, in one corner, lingering to watch the re-
sult of an exciting game of checkers between
two recognized champions" of the company.


"STRETCHING IN."


Click!- one stroke on the instrument, fol-
lowed by a quick "tang-tang-tang"-a pause,
"tang-tang" on the, "joker"-the man at the
desk springs to his feet and shouts Get up!"-


the weight has fallen, the lever flies up, the
horses are released. They need no command,
but are on their feet even before the fireman
calls, and rattle out of their stalls and under the
swinging-harness. Snap, snap! go the collars
about their necks, and then the "bit-snaps" are
locked at each side in an instant. Thud, thud!
come the men, sliding down the poles at both
sides of the house,
and striking the rubber
pads placed below.
Bounding from there to
the floor, they climb
to their various places
upon the apparatus.
The driver hasjumped
to his seat on the en-
gine and snaps in place
the belt that secures him
there; the engineer, and
maybe the foreman
also, spring on the
engine; and the engi-
neer with one foot
shoves down a lever
in the floor that shuts
off connection with a
boiler in the basement.
This boiler always
i -keeps up about ten or
',. l twelve pounds of steam-
pressure in the engine.
S -- The engineer snatches
up a lump of oil-soaked
waste, lights it, and
throws it in the furnace
of the engine, amid
the wood piled there;
.the driver leans for-
ward, and, taking up
the reins, gives a slight
pull toward him. This
pull releases a catch in
the iron framework that
holds up the harness,
and this frame flies up
to the ceiling, letting the harness fall on the
backs of the horses.
The man on watch shouts to the driver
the number of the station and its locality, the







FIGHTING A FIRE.


big doors slide open -and the engine dashes
off to the fire!
The same manceuvers have been going on
behind the engine, where the tender," or hose-
carriage, is hitching up, and it is after the en-
gine as fast as the horses can fly.
I have leave to jump on and go with them.
Rattlety-bang we pound over the cobbles, and
then- with a bump !-we go over the flagging
at the crossing-swis / around the corner with
a turn so quick it makes my hair stand on end,
and we "straighten out" for a run along the
avenue.
We are now in the wake of the engine, in a
cloud of smoke and cinders pouring from the
top of the latter, and we are gaining every
second. The lamp-posts -the shop-windows-
the crowds of shouting people-pass back of
us like a quickly flying panorama. The horses
seem fairly to fly. Around this wagon we
swing, then pull up for another until a half-
frightened driver can turn his startled horse out
of our way, and then we put on a burst of
speed to make up for the delay.
I tell you, it takes a cool head and a quick
eye to drive a pair of fire-horses.
We are quickly almost up with the engine, for
our horses have less weight to pull, and soon we
have no difficulty in passing it, which we do
with a shout. Now we are nearing the fire, the
men beside me are leisurely pulling on their
rubber coats and putting on their fire-hats, and
I well, I am holding on for dear life, expect-
ing every moment to be thrown off behind in a
heap. Not that I am afraid oh, no I but
you see, I am the "thirteenth" member of the
company (so every friend, or hanger-on, of a
company is called, there being twelve regular
members-a foreman, an assistant foreman, and
ten men), and I have to take very good care of
myself in consequence, for that is considered
an unlucky number to bear; and if anything
happens, it may happen to me.
A big cloud of black smoke, a group of ex-
cited people; a policeman running toward us,
indicate the location of the fire. A fireman
jumps from the tender, and, running ahead of us,
looks for the nearest hydrant. About eighteen
or twenty feet of the hose has been run off the
reel, and a man stands with it in hand ready to


"OPENING UP."


throw it to the man at the hydrant. Another
tender has turned the corner ahead, and is
making with breakneck speed for the same
pump. Can we reach it first?
Our driver leans forward and urges the horses
onward, giving them full rein, and they jump
through the air, pulling the tender along with
great jerks. We near the hydrant; our man
stands there ready, waving his wrench in the
air and shouting to us. The other tender is
advancing with frightful rapidity, but they are
just a little too late!






FIGHTING A FIRE.


We fly past the hydrant, the hose is thrown
to our man, he takes a turn about the pump,
and we stretch in" to the fire. This gives us
" first water," as it is called,'and the foreman of
our company takes precedence of the foremen
of all other companies on account of being the
first to arrive, and has." charge of the fire" un-
til a battalion-chief arrives, when the foreman
turns the command over to him.
Our engine follows us quickly, and, dashing
up to the hydrant, the hydrant-connection is un-
shipped from its place in the long tubes that hang
over the wheels on both sides of the boiler, and
is fastened to the hydrant and then to the pump
of the engine. The hose, taken around to the
other side of the engine, is rapidly screwed to
the pump, and we, having pulled up in front of
the fire, hastily roll off from the reel the number
of lengths of hose needed; a nozzle is placed
at the end, and we are all ready when the order
is passed to the engineer to start the water."
It is a cellar fire,-a bad one,-and in a fac-
tory. Clouds of dense black smoke pour up
from the basement and out of every crevice
around the big folding doors that form the en-
trance. Bits of falling glass tell us that the pres-
sure of smoke and of the gas generated by the
combustion going on within the building is be-
ginning to break the windows in the upper part,
and if we are not active the flames will get the
better of us. Our foreman is everywhere at
once, directing the captains of the arriving
companies to their different positions.
Two more tenders have rolled up and de-
posited their complement of hose ready to
be manned and directed against the fire. A
" truck," or hook-and-ladder company, thunders
upon the scene, with its load of heavy ladders
and firemen's implements, weighing over four
tons. Dropping from it as it slows up, men come
running over to our aid armed with axes and
hooks, ready to make an opening in the building
so that we may get at the seat of the fire.
The watchman of the factory cannot be
found. Our foreman shouts, Quick! the bat-
tering-ram. Break open the big doors! "
One is quickly unshipped from its place under-
neath the truck, and, with a man on each side,
at the command of the captain the ram is
lunged forward at the big doors. Crash!--the


doors quiver under the impact of the combined
weight of the solid mass of iron and the two.
heavy men. A few more blows and the locks
give way, the doors fly open, and into the
black, stifling smoke we force our way, drag-
ging the heavy hose with us.
We can see no fire,-nothing but thick,
dense smoke choking our throats, and making
the water run from our eyes in streams. Mean-
while the men from the truck-company have
been at work with the butt-ends of their axes,
and have broken open the dead-lights and
grating in the front over the basement and the
basement doors. The fire having shown up
there, we are ordered to "back out" and
"work in" the basement an order easily
given, but not so easily obeyed; for the smoke
is now thick and so stifling that people in the
crowd on the other side of the street are
obliged to beat a quick retreat before it. But
we firemen are there to obey commands, not to
question them, and down we go.
A shower of glass greets us as we back out,
for it is now raining glass and bits of the win-
dow-frames from above. Ladders having been
raised to the upper floors, the truckmen are
making an opening for the pipemen of other
companies, that they may be on hand should
the fire get above the first floor. Another
shower, this time of red-hot plaster, greets us
as we work our way into the basement; and
the fire, now spreading all over the ceiling,
brings more down around us. The heat is
frightful there, and we turn our fire-hats back
foremost to protect our faces as best we can.
We slash the water around, knocking over burn-
ing beams and piles of packing-boxes, the hose
squirming and quivering under the pressure of
the tons of water being forced through it every
minute: the united strength of three or four
men is required to control it. All at once one
of our number gives a gasp and tumbles down
at our feet, face forward, in a pool of dirty water
and plaster, overcome by the smoke and heat.
Another drops his hold upon the hose and
stoops to assist his fallen comrade. It is now
red hot in the basement, and we cannot breathe
much longer. If we do not back out soon, it
will be all over with us; but firemen, in the
enthusiasm and excitement of the moment, hate


I6o






































































A NEW YORK FIRE.


161


r



6~


~~ 'Y'~
r~*~X~


-*~p~"~ppl~


.:91







FIGHTING A FIRE.


.1i~r *W. i"~~," -
~g~F~~Je--:rY r 0%
~;tAr ~' biu:t


" -.:P ,.


, ..


4

#4


.4.
.' .. ...




THE BATTALION-CHIEF ARRIVES AND TAKES COMMAND.


to retreat until actually driven out, so we still
hold our position. At last we cannot stand it,
and we retreat to the doorway.
The fireman who was overcome, assisted by
one or more companions, reaches the foot of
the stairs. A battalion-chief in command on
the pavement above, seeing our position, shouts,
"Here! A man hurt! Down in the base-
ment!" In a second a dozen brave fellows
dash down the steps, and, lifting up our injured
comrade, carry him tenderly up to the street,
and then over to one of the patrol-wagons,
where, with plenty of fresh air and brisk rubbing,
he is soon brought to his senses.
The chief follows the men down the stair-
way, and, giving one look at the blazing cellar,
says, "This is too hot for you; back out, quick!"
We need no second command, but get up the
stairway as fast as we can. As we reach the
foot of the stairs in our retreat, cras / comes
the floor down where we have been standing,
and our place is taken by a packed-in mass


of blazing timbers. A few seconds later, and
we might have been under that mass.
The water is now all directed at this point,
and the fire is slowly conquered. It has
reached the first and second floors by way of
the stairways and elevator-openings, and the
men placed there to receive it, though having
a hard tussle, are gradually getting the best of
it. Our foreman, on the arrival of the first
battalion-chief, has turned the command over
to him, and he has sent out additional alarms,
second and third, and we now have massed
about the fire twelve engine-companies, four
truck-companies, about four chiefs, a deputy
chief superintendent, a chief superintendent (the
head of the department), and two sections of
the Insurance Patrol. The Patrol men have
covered up the office furniture in the front
office with their tarpaulins, and are ready to
save additional property should the fire spread.
There are also a water-tower (as yet not in
use), and a fuel-wagon dashing here and there







FIGHTING A FIRE.


among the engines, to supply them with coal. In
all there are about two hundred men at work.
Companies have been sent to the rear to
work in from the next street; "rollers" (a device
used on the roofs or cornices of houses to pro-
tect the hose when it is pulled up from the
street, and to prevent cutting it) have been
placed on adjoining houses, and lines of hose
have been run up there to fight the fire from
that point. Men from the truck-companies are
working on the roof, cutting it open that the
smoke and gases may escape and better air
come to the men working within the building;
"cellar-pipes" are brought into play to pour
streams of water along the ceiling of the cellar.
Even in the house adjoining the one on fire,
men with a battering-ram are at work breaking
a hole through the foundation-wall, so that
streams of water may be directed at the fire
from that point, to drown it out.
Soon we have the satisfaction of seeing the
last squirming flame flicker and go out before


the deluge of water being poured on it from'
all points, and nothing but a hissing, smolder-
ing mass is left. The ruin is thoroughly soaked
and washed down before the tired firemen are
ordered to "shut off."
The extra companies sent for by the last two
alarms are now ordered home, and the dark
street is full of men in long rubber-coats, carry-
ing lanterns. They go about amid the twisted
labyrinth of hose, disconnecting or unscrew-
ing the different sections of hose, that the water
may drain from them before they are "taken up"
and rolled upon the reel of the tender.
Being the first company to arrive, we are
the last to leave, and we remain until with
men from the truck-company we thoroughly
go over the building from top to bottom, tear-
ing down door-jambs, window-casings, and pull-
ing up parts of the floor-" overhauling," as
it is called, that no unseen spark may be left
smoldering to break out anew after we have
left; for the battalion-chief under whose com-


~i 1


J .-jf4~Y Lti..


'3 .A .c


S ..-TAKIN- -UP '

" TAKING UP."







FIGHTING A FIRE.


- .ijP< A .
*t '


7


V-A

p. H- 0- I----


"HITTING THE FIRE."

mand we are now working is responsible for Soon we, too, are "disconnecting," and when
the fire, and should it start up again it would the different sections of hose have been hauled
go hard with him before the commissioners, by up behind the tender, we screw them together
whom he would be called to account, again and they are wound upon the reel, being


..:.






FIGHTING A FIRE.


pulled taut over the iron roller at the back
part as they are reeled in. This thoroughly
squeezes out all the remaining water from them,
and winds the hose evenly on the reel.
We are now rolling home, dirty, begrimed,
and partly soaked, and followed by a crowd of
boys about a mile long. When we reach the
engine-house, we take off from the reel all the
lengths of hose we have used, including three
or four additional lengths, to make sure of get-
ting every length that contains any water.
The wet lengths are hung up to dry in a long
shaft in the engine-house called the "hose-
tower," while new, dry hose takes their places.
Water left in the hose causes a mildew that
rots and destroys it very quickly.


We wash down the engine and tender; a
new fire is made ready in the furnace of the
former; the horses are put back in their stalls,
and, after the engine and tender have been
rolled back to their respective places on the
floor, they are brought out under the iron
framework and the swinging-harness is hoisted
into place again. The clock is started once more
and set right; the weight is again placed at
the top of the sliding-rod; the lever or "trip "
at the bottom is set, and the horses are fas-
tened in their stalls.
Then the captain steps up to the telegraph-
instrument, and, clicking off a few clicks, in-
forms headquarters that he is "at home once
more, and ready to receive another call."


THE BABY'S CHRISTMAS DREAM.


1894.]







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


As you all know right well, my friends, your
Jack is not a summer Jack-in-the-pulpit; neither
does he belong to winter, autumn, or spring. He
is an outdoor-loving, all-the-year Jack, at your ser-
vice, thriving in the sunlight of young lives, and
blooming best in the warmth and merriment of
young hearts. Therefore is he specially alive in
December, the last month of the twelve, and the
cheeriest, for it sets the Christmas bells a-ringing
and brings in the glow of Christmas-tide.
And this reminds me of a little song sent to this
pulpit by Emilie Poulsson, in the desire that you
learn it by heart, and in time for the coming day:
WHILE stars of Christmas shine,
Lighting the skies,
Let only loving looks
Beam from your eyes.
While bells of Christmas ring
Joyous and clear,
Speak only happy words,
All mirth and cheer.
Give only loving gifts,
And in love take;
Gladden the poor and sad
For love's dear sake.
SWIFT TRAVELERS.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Not very long
ago you told your ST. NICHOLAS hearers of hawks
being able to fly at the rate of I50 miles an hour.
Here are some interesting facts concerning the
traveling powers of certain other birds.
The paisano, road-runner, or chaparral cock
runs faster than a fleet horse.
The ostrich sometimes runs at the rate of 30
miles an hour.
The carrier-pigeon will fly at least 30 miles an
hour, and some have been known to travel at the
rate of 60 or even 90 miles an hour.


Wild pigeons often fly hundreds of miles a day
to feed, returning to their roosts at night. Audu-
bon says they travel a mile a minute.
The condor of the Andes flies to the height of
six miles.
The bald eagle rises in circular sweeps until it
disappears from view, and then glides to the
earth with such velocity that the eye can scarcely
follow it.
The humming-bird, although the smallest bird
known, possesses great power and rapidity of flight,
and travels many miles in one day.
Yours truly, B. L. B--.

HERE is a message from the Red School-house:

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: A young girl only thir-
teen years of age has sent me these very clever non-
sense rhymes,--her own unaided work, she says,- and
so, dear Jack, without ado I 'll hand them to your "chicks"
and you. Very truly your
LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM.

THE "BUGABOO."
Now heed my tale, so strange and true:
The good ship called the "Bugaboo"
Sailed forth one day from Timbuctoo.
Of men it had a goodly crew,
A captain and a boatswain too.
Of passengers there were but few:
A Chinaman who wore a queue,
A Frenchman, African, and Jew.
The animals would frighten you:
A llama, and a kangaroo,
An elephant, and caribou,
A cow, dog, owl, pig, cat, and gnu,
Six hens, a rooster, and a ewe,
And more enough to form a Zoo.

It took them many days to hew
The slender masts of oak and yew.
At last when naught was left to do,
And all had said their last adieu,
The boiler puffed, the whistle blew,
And they were off with small ado.

Far out upon the ocean blue,
Where naught but water greets the view,
A fearful storm began to brew.
The birds up to the rigging flew,
The chickens clucked, the rooster crew,
The frightened cow began to moo,
The dog to bark, the cat to mew.
In vain they hollered "scat! and "shoo!"
And many missiles at them threw;
The noises only louder grew.
But greater trouble did ensue-
Their coming they began to rue:
A whirlpool in the vessel drew,
The crew declared it nothing new,
A way to reach the land they knew,
So all set off in a canoe.
When food grew scarce, the cock they slew,
And made his flesh into a stew.
They sighted land, took hope anew;
But all were gone but one or two
When land was reached. Alas, 't is true,
The natives boiled and ate them, too.
And now my simple tale is through.
FLORA W. SMITH.






JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


IS IT A YULE LOG P

Ho I what is this that comes rolling in sight ?
It is a Yule log for Christmas! many of you
learned ST. NICHOLAS folks may say. But no;
Mr. Meredith Nugent has told me all about it.
There is no fine open chimney-place in my
meadow, in which a great Yule log may be laid
to send up its grand, lapping flames, its sparks
and crackling cinders; but there always is room
for a wonder-picture around which we all may
gather-and this is a wonder-picture indeed !
It is only a slice from one of California's biggest
trees. But what a slice! Mr. Nugent has drawn
it from life, so to speak, as all of my hearers within
reach of New York city may testify; for they can
see the original any day in the American Museum
of Natural History, near Central Park.


I am told that not long ago a giant Sequoia
tree -after years of steady growth -lay prostrate
in the grove known far and wide as the Sequoia
Grove; and a slice was then taken from its mighty
trunk, and this slice was sent to New York. The
huge round thing could not, of course, be sent in
one piece; that would be quite out of the ques-
tion, for it measured about twenty feet across and
sixty feet in circumference. So they divided it into
sections- and these sections were brought on by rail,
and finally they were put together, each piece re-
stored to its proper place, as shown in Mr. Nugent's
drawing. Crowds may now enjoy this sight at the
museum, and form some idea of the tremendous
girth of that mammoth tree.*
The very young man and woman in the picture
may well gaze in rapt astonishment at the huge
thing. Who would n't?


* The Little Schoolma'am says you all may read about the felling of this very tree, in ST. NICHOLAs for December, 1892.


NOT A VULE LOG.




























































































CHRISTMAS EVE.
168


I-7



lw




:!;~r~- ~ 1P ~L1




;VO









I" I




Or;

























CHRISTMAS EVE, and six children's stockings to
be darned before bedtime. Mrs. Chequidden -
the children's mother--could n't even think of
darning more than one of each pair. Each child
needed one to hang up for Santa Claus; and
wanted that stocking to be in the best of order.
This Christmas eve they had all gone to take
tea with their grandmother, and before leaving had
begged their mama to be sure and darn the stock-
ings that they were going to hang up in the big
chimney-place.
So she took the big work-basket on her lap, and
began to search for the little darning-gourd. But
the gourd was not in the basket. She got up, and
looked here and there and everywhere, but could
not find it. At last she sat down and drew a stock-
ing-foot on her left hand. "I must try and darn
them this way," she said with a sigh, "but it is
harder, and I am very, very tired." And with
that she leaned back in her rocking-chair and
fell fast asleep. Then there came a chuckle from
under the bureau.
What's that? asked the darning-needle, with
his one eye turned in the direction of the sound.
It 's I," was the answer, and out rolled the
little gourd.
"Why did you hide away?" asked the needle.
I'm tired of being scratched all over while darn-
ing stockings," said the gourd. "It's bad enough
at other times, but at Christmas time it is too much."
Suppose you had a hundred pins stuck into you
at a time, what then ?" said the round pincushion.
Oh, you're so fat that it can't hurt you much,"
said the gourd.
"Well," said the scissors, "you ought n't to
grumble. I have to do much more than you do."
"But then, you see, you have n't been used to
anything else," said the little gourd. "But think
of me. Once I hung high on a beautiful green
vine. Sweet flowers grew all about me- I think I
can smell them now. The birds came and sang to
me -I think I can hear them now. The butter-
flies and the bees all nodded to me as they flew by-
VOL. XXII.-22. I


I think I can see them now. Oh how happy I was I
And to be taken from that lovely home and thrown
into a work-basket, and made to help darn chil-
dren's stockings, it-it is-it really is too much."
Stop your grumbling," said the scissors, "and
let me talk awhile. If you had been left there
what would have become of you? When winter
came, you 'd have found yourself hanging on a
dry, brown rope instead of a beautiful green vine.
And you could n't have spelled the flowers, be-
cause there would n't have been any flowers; and
you could n't have heard the birds, or have seen
the bees and the butterflies, because they 'd have
been gone too. And there you would have hung, a
lonely little gourd, rudely shaken by wintry winds."
"Yes," added the darning-needle; the scissors
knows. He was lost outdoors all winter. There is n't
much you can tell him about a winter in a garden."
"As for the children," said the fat pincushion,
"it is a pleasure to do anything for them. They
are very nice children. And their mama, too,-is
just the mama for such children."
"And how neatly she keeps the work-basket,"
said the scissors. "It's really a pleasure to live in it."'
And what a pity it would be," said the darning-
needle, "if the children should come home and find
the stockings they want to hang up for Santa Claus,
just as they left them, with the same holes-"
"Don't say any more-don't say any more,"
here broke in the little gourd. I 've heard quite
enough. I 'm sorry I hid, and sorry I grumbled.
I 'llroll over and touch our mistress's foot, and she '11
wake up and see me, and then perhaps the chil-
dren's stockings will be darned in time, after all."
So it rolled over and touched the mother's foot
once -twice -thrice; and the third time she
awoke, and saw the gourd, and saying, "Why,
there it is! How glad I am picked it up.
And when the children came home from their
grandmama's, they found their stockings as good
as new, and hung them up in a row.
And Christmas morning, each stocking was
stuffed full of Christmas presents!






*RHYMES OF THE STATES.
BY GARRETT NEWKIRK.


E( GI









A colony did bring;
And named, the thirteenth of the States
For the second George, his King.
Georgia to-day is often called
"The Empire State of the South";
Savannah's the largest city,
And is near the Savannah's mouth.
All grains are grown in Georgia,
And thousands of cotton-bales;
It is as large as England,
Including also Wales.
The capifal, Atlanta,
A city far renowned,
In beauty has arisen,
Though once burned to the ground.

I'l5o Mtlo -- Wles
The~ caiaAlna,& 4:rl






RHYMES OF THE STATES.


Thf lfandoceaifn r ea0gtojEther
Make this a land of pleasant weather.
You all like oranges, I know,
And here in Florida they grow..
A subject of the Spanish King
Of yore came here to seek a spring;
He hoped its waters would restore
Lost youth and health to him once more.
He found great reptiles with long jaws;
Scales hard like flint, and teeth like saws.
And he was young enough that day
To turn about and run away.
And. in this tropic clime is seen
Our oldest town-St. Augustine.


'.1 ~o p\~es.. A












THE LETTER-BOX.


VOORHEESVILLE, N. Y.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about the
interesting collection I am making. It is of post-marks,
and it has helped me in many ways. There are many
places that I had never heard of before that through
my collection I have learned much about. Then, too,
there are such queer names for many of the places, some
of which are Painted Post, Kissimee, Birch Tree, and
Candiporte. Silver Peak is one that I think very pretty.
I have taken you only two years, but in that time I
have learned to love you dearly, and every month, when
ST. NICHOLAS arrives, the girls all flock in, and we read
you together. Your devoted reader,
ROBERTA D- .

PALMA SOLA, FLA.
DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for
eighteen years, though, of course, I have not enjoyed
reading you all that time, as I am not quite thirteen;
but I like to read you now ever so much.
I have lived in Florida all of my life. My home is on
the loveliest river, called Manatee. We have boats, and
spend a good deal of time on the water. The river flows
into Tampa Bay, and about eight miles across its green
waters is what is called Passage Key, a lovely little
island bordered on one side by the bay and on the other
by the great Gulf of Mexico. The surf-bathingis splendid.
One can find any number of the most beautiful shells of
every shade, shape, and size on the beaches out there.
Sometimes, as you approach the key, you see hun-
dreds and hundreds of pelicans just covering the shore.
The sea-gulls lay their eggs there during the months of
May and June, and it is such fun to hunt for them, as
the pelicans build their nests right on the ground. The
eggs are very good to eat; I think they are quite as nice
as hens' eggs.
With wishes for your success always, I am yours
appreciatively, "SWEET CRACKER."

ST. MARTIN'S LANE, WISSA. HEIGHTS,
PHILADELPHIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never written to you
before, but now I have something interesting to tell you.
I have a duck nearly full grown, which I have raised
from an egg. The other day I looked out of my win-
dow, and saw the duck eating out of the plate with the
two cats in the garden. They were not in the least
frightened of each other, and went on eating till all
the food was finished.
I am very fond of reading you. My eldest sister has
taken you ever since you first came out, and I have read
every story in all the volumes.
Your little reader, ETHEL S--


ST. CROIX, LE 15 SEPT., '94, D. W. I.
CHER ST.-NICOLAS: Voila bien des ann6es que nous
lisons, ma sceur et moi, votre interessant et amusant
journal. Nous demeurons dans les Indes Occidentales,
loin de cette chbre Am6rique que nous aimons tant.
Nous avons comme distractions votre journal, des prom-
enades magnifiques le long de la mer, deux chiens du nom
de "Bijou" et "Jacque" (Jack), et une gentile ch&vre que
nous attelons a une petite charrette.


L'ann6e passe nous avons 6td dans votre voisinage,
car en allant avec nos, parents, notre petit frere, et nos
grandes sceurs, a 1'Exposition de Chicago nous avons
pass par New York. C'6tait bien joli et merveilleux
ce que nous avons vu, car dans notre petite ile on ne
trouve pas toutes ces curiositds. Si notre lettre n'est
pas trop longue, vous nous feriez bien plaisir en P'im-
primant. Vos petites lectrices vous envoient le bonjour.
NINA ET EDNA M-.


CHATFIELD, MINNESOTA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read about racoons in the
June number of ST. NICHOLAS, and thought I would tell
you about one we have. We are always very fond of
pets, and usually have a great many; but we never had
one so attractive as our pet coon. We raised it in a
curious way. This spring we had an old cat that had
one kitten. After a while we found a baby coon in the
woods. It was very small, not larger than a very small
kitten, and we were afraid that we could not raise it.
We then thought perhaps our old cat would raise it,
so we gave it to her. She did not offer to eat or harm
it, but seemed much pleased with it, and at once adopted
it as one of her family.
Shortly afterward we found a young gray squirrel,
and the cat owned that also.
The old cat raised her curious family of a cat, coon, and
squirrel, and they are very attractive pets. Every one
who comes desires to see them, and after that always
wants to see the old cat who so kindly befriended them.
The coon is getting very mischievous, and is nicer, I
think, than the squirrel. The coon will climb into the
very tops of trees. It is great fun to see him and our
dog play together. I remain your admiring reader,
MAE M-

CINCINNATI, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write to you
and tell you about something I saw. A few weeks ago,
in walking down Fourth street, we-my sister Charlotte
and myself- saw a dog walking along; it was all cov-
ered with tags, medals, and checks. I recollected the
story in ST. NICHOLAS about "Owney of the Mail-
Bags." I said to Charlotte, "I wonder if that is Owney."
My sister wentup to the dog to see, and she saw Owney"
on the collar. Then we read about him in the paper.
Yours truly, LOUISE P- .


MAXWELL CITY, NEW MEXICO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a Hollander, and have
read your pieces about my countrymen, and must say
that you do not exaggerate as some papers do. There
are many foolish and untrue tales told about Holland,
and many people therefore get an idea that they are all
fisher-folks, and that the tails of all the cows in the king-
dom are tied to the ceiling of the stalls. Such things
are exceptions, not the rule.
In Holland, school-boys of the same age as those here
that have gone to school regularly are further advanced.
Also, the Paris fashions are in vogue there, and edu-
cated Hollanders are just as polite as Americans, and
perhaps more so.






THE LETTER-BOX.


We must irrigate if we want to raise crops here in New
Mexico, and as few of your readers know how it is done,
I will describe the process to them.
Firstly, a ditch is taken out of some stream; this ditch
must have at least five feet of fall to the mile, as other-
wise the ditch would fill with dirt, and from this ditch
the water runs into reservoirs to be kept until needed.
Out of these reservoirs the water is run into ditches
which bring it to the place where it is needed. It is
then run into the irrigating-ditches, in which are placed
checks-sticks long enough to cross the ditch. Upon
these sticks canvas is nailed so that it will hang in the
ditch. A little dirt is then thrown on the edge of the
canvas to keep it in place. This check stops the water
and forces it to flow over the ditch-bank and on the field
to be watered. The water is allowed to flow until the
ground is thoroughly wet, and is then allowed to flow to
the next check. A good big stream of water is needed
to irrigate well, as the water must run over any uneven-
ness of the surface.
I have read ST. NICHOLAS for many years, and think
it is well worth the money.
Your reader, PETER M- .

(Printed as it was written.)
SEOUL, KOREA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live at the American legation
in Seoul, Korea. I am eight years old. Harry, who is
my brother, is ten years old. I am born in Korea; Harry
is born in China. There is a lot of trouble in Korea.
Japan and China are at war; the Korean Palace is taken,
the Kingis prisoner; there are Japanese guards all around
the palace; there are American solgers at the legation;
not a man can come in without a pass. Two of my favor-
icet solger friends are Dick and Jack. We have apony.
Now I think I will close my letter.
MAURICE A--.

BURNT OAK, CURRENCY CREEK,
SOUTH AUSTRALIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We often see letters in your
paper written by children who take an interest in it, as we
do; and we think we must write you a letter, too, telling
you something about our home and our friends and our
pets here in South Australia. We live in the ranges about
eighty miles from Adelaide, and when we go by train to f
town have to cross the "Spider Bridge," as it is called
because it looks so light you would not think it strong
enough to bear the heavy trains running over. You look
out of the carriage window upon such a deep gully be-
low, and then back at the tunnel through which you have
just come, for that opens directly upon the bridge; this
is when you are going through the Mount Lofty ranges.
But we are quite used to it now, and do not mind at all
when we are going over. Now I must tell you of our
friends. Some of them live in Adelaide and come to
spend the summer holidays with us; but our greatest
friend down here is Tracy Miller, who lives about five
miles from here, in a little town close to the sea and near
a lovely beach where we like to have picnics sometimes.
Tracy is very fond of horses, like ourselves, and has a
pony to ride, but it is not quite broken in yet, and often
plays sad pranks. Just, perhaps, when Tracy is in a hurry,
Baby," as he is called, gets an obstinate fit and won't
go; but generally he is a dear little thing, and has such
a pretty head. Our horses we call "Star and "Rain-
bow." Star is a bright bay with black points, and
arches her neck. She is very spirited, and will not let
any one but myself catch her. We have to live in Ade-
laide part of the year on account of our lessons, and one
evening Star and Rainbow got out of the paddock where
we keep them when in town, and started for home. Some


men stopped them, but they would not let any one go
close to them, and I was obliged to follow myself and
catch them. Rainbow, my sister Isabel's horse, is a dark
bay; she is spirited, too, and carries her head very well.
Papa has nearly all wire fences down here, for we have
a sheep-station; but there is one old brush fence left. A
brush fence is a fence made of logs and boughs. Over
this we have trained our horses to jump, and they like it
as much as we do. Rainbow will stand without being
tied wherever she is left, and this is very useful when
Isabel and I go out mustering with papa; for sometimes
the sheep and lambs are very troublesome, and we have
to get off our horses and drive them. We love horses
better than anything, but our greatest friends always love
the stories about horses you put in sometimes, and only
wish they were longer. "Rangoon" was a lovely story.
The Apple of Arabia's Eye" and How Janet did it"
were our favorite ones. We are always pleased when ST.
NICHOLAS comes in from the post-we know we shall
have something to amuse us.
Ever your interested reader,
MAY W-.

APONY CASTLE, NEUTRAER COMITAT, HUNGRY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My sisters have had your
magazine every month since 1885. The stories I like
best are "Juan and Juanita," Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," "Ti-
ger! Tiger!" and"Toomai of the Elephants." Iam a lit-
tle Hungarian boy nine years old. My papa promised me,
if I passed my examination well, that he would allow me
to shoot. I have three guns, and have shot already one
buck, one stag, five hares, one wild boar, and many spar-
rows and frogs. I have two ponies, one named Tavory
that I ride every day, and another one called Lalu that
I drive about sometimes. Two years ago I began to
make a collection of butterflies and beetles. I should
be so glad to exchange specimens from here with any
little boy or girl in America who may be doing the same
thing. In a valley about an hour's walk from our house
we have a trout-pool, and sometimes we go fishing, which
is very amusing.
In the winter we live'in Budapest, and while we were
there this year our villa was partly burned. A/ljen (long
live) ST. NICHOLAS Your little friend,
HENRY A-.

CAMPOBELLO, NEW BRUNSWICK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder if many of your read-
ers have ever seen a sea-serpent. In a private museum
in Boston there is a collection of the skeletons of animals,
and among them there is what is supposed to be the ver-
tebra of a sea-serpent. The specimen is very long, and
extends around three sides of a large room. There is no
proof, however, as to whether these are real vertebra; butit
is certain that one of these strange animals has been seen.
A good many years ago a serpent was seen off the
beach at Nahant. It raised its head about twelve feet
out of water, and remained in the same position for about
two hours.
A sketch was made at the time, and a paper was signed
by the people who saw this remarkable animal. Having
seen the picture and the paper makes this incident more
interesting for the fact that it is true.
Very sincerely, K. C. P- .

HANOVER, GERMANY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and
have taken you as long as I can remember, but I have
never written a letter to you, so I thought I would tell
you how I found life in a foreign country.
This is the second time I have been here in Germany,







THE LETTER-BOX.


and this time I came to spend my holidays in a boarding-
school in the Harz Mountains. This school was kept by
a pastor in a little village, so one can imagine how nice
it was. I learned to write German very easily, and im-
proved in the language, which I had learned to speak
at home. The bauern or peasants are very different
from our country people. Over their coat they wear a
blue gown, which extends to the waist. The older peas-
ants wear small caps, and instead of long trousers they
wear knickerbockers, whereas the younger peasants wear
broad-brimmed hats somewhat resembling those of the
cow-boys.
Early in the morning the Brocken, one of the highest
mountains in North Germany, was covered with mist for
almost half-way down, and from a distance it looked very
beautiful.
There are a good many old ruined burgs (strong
castles) near here. One of the strongest of the burgs
belonged to robber knight, the Count of Regenstein. The
foundation of his castle was hewn out of the solid rock.
He had a dungeon which was cut out of rock about
fiftyfeet deep,into which he threw merchants whomhe had
captured and robbed, and they were left there to die of
starvation if they could not pay him a certain sum of
money. One can see the skeletons and skulls and bones,
which are still down in the dungeon, when a lantern is
let down. At last he was taken prisoner and kept in a


box about ten feet wide, ten feet long, and six feet high,
for two years, in the city of Quedlinburg. The food
was given to him through a little window in the side of
the box.
The Germans are very fond of making foot-tours in
the mountains, and once the professor took a few boys
and me for a three days' walking tour.
Your faithful friend,
CHARLES TROWBRIDGE T-.


WE have received pleasant letters from the young
friends whose names follow: Estill S., J. Stacey, Ade-
laide M., Shepherd S., Wm. Scollay W., John C. McK.,
Marie and Edouard S., Herbert W., Mary Caroline F.,
Georgia, Elsie and Lois M., Marian L., M. F., Irene S.
T., Frederic H. R., R. C., H. M. K., Paul J. P., C. C.
H., Edwin E. P., Fannie L. de C., Eleanor H. D., E.
C., Floss, Ida, and Maggie G., Clarissa C., Margaret
H. W., Sophia S., Lydia L., Dwight E. C., Katharine
N., Alvin J., May W. S., John L., Kenneth H., Joan
W., Ethel A., Vina S. T., Lillian M. G., May G., Jean
D. E., Vera H., E. C. S., Rosamond, Alice 0., Rossa S.,
A. N. G., Ellen M. C., Julia S. H., Emma E., Eleanor
G. A., Harriet S. A., Jennie M. H., B. L. B., and Bertha
A. Nesmith.


'i.


FOOT-BALL AT FROGSTOWN-"THE TACKLE."












THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN
MUSICAL PUZZLE. Mozart. I. Mandolin. 2. Ocarina. 3. Zither.
4. Accordion. 5. Rebec. 6. Trumpet.
PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Discrimination.
COMPASS PUZZLE. North to south, nucleus; west to east, war-
like; northwest to southeast, nobless; southwest to northeast,
sculpin.
PI. Like one who lingers yet upon the sands,
Gazing his last upon the fading sail
That bears his friends afar to other lands,
I watch the bleak November daylight fail,
And, weltering in the pale and watery skies,
The dim stars falter forth, the cold moon rise.
PREFIXES AND SUFFIXES. I. S-lit-s. 2. S-hip-s. 3. D-are-d.
4. D-i-d. 5. S-cent-s. 6. G-on-g. 7. G-an-g. 8. S-lot-s. 9. S-in-s.


THE NOVEMBER NUMBER.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "If you want learning, you must work
for it."
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Nausicaa; finals, Penelope. Cross-
words: I. Nap. 2. Are. 3. Urn. 4. She. 5. Ill. 6. Coo. 7. Asp.
8. Ale.
DELETIONS. Thanksgiving Day. I. Pa-trio-t. 2. W-hit-e. 3.
C-and-id. 4. Car-no-t. 5. Sin-kin-g. 6. De-sir-ed. 7. A-go-ny.
8. F-in-ish. 9. De-vote-e. to. Cl-ink-ing. ii. Am-nest-y. 12. Le-
gate-e. 13. La-din-g. 4. B-ask-et. 15. Ga-yet-y.
CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES. I. i. Opera. 2. Paper. 3. Epode.
4. Redan. 5. Arena. II. Trial. Rabbi. 3. Ibsen. 4. Abele.
5. Linef. III. x. April. 2. Peace. 3. Rabid. 4. Icing. 5. Ledge.
IV. i. Wheel. 2. Hello. 3. Elbow. 4. Elope. 5. Lower. V.
i. Elate. 2. Level. 3. Avoid. 4. Teine. 5. Elder.


To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the r5th 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 SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September i5th, from Jesse Chapman and
John Fletcher-" Three Buckeyes"-"Too Many to Count"-M. McG.-Josephine Sherwood-V. E. L.-Paul Reese-Jo and I
-Two Little Brothers-" The Wise Five "-Hubert L. Bingay-" The Quartette"-Blanche and Fred -L. O. E. -Paul Rowley-
Wilford W. Linsly-" Tod and Yam"- Ida Carleton Thallon.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER were received, before September 15th, from Marie Snow, i -Muriel E. G.,
2 Lucetta Dickinson, 2-Victor J. West, i- G. B. Dyer, lo-Anna Coates, --Klara and Alice, 2-C. H. Robinson, Maud
and R. C., C. V. Briggs, I -Ethel M. C., 2-Mary Kent and Mama, 5-"Two Girls in Blue," 2-Caroline L. Bull, --Jean D.
Egleston, I-"Crab Club," I--M. E. P., i-Leonard Kebler, I-Reginald W. Murray, I--C. K. H. and A. L. H., 8- Rheta, I-
Florence S. Wheeler, x-W. B. Gill, x- Carrie and Helen, 2 Katharine D. Hull, i -E. Wallace Cornish, I -I. G. L. and G. A. L.,
3 -Aunty Specs and Betty, 3- Virginia M. Farley, I -" Siamese Twins," 2--Helen O. Koerper, i- Helen Lovell, 6 -M. A. D. and
P. U. D., 2-W. L., 'o--" Dad and I," 2-" Wolverine," i-Mary Stone, 3-L. and H. Gardner, I-Jeannette S. K., i-Two of
a Kind, i Blanche Millard, -L. Adele Carll, 2-Natalie Cole, -Claire Hale, -"Dr. Jack," 5-"Bumble Bee," i-Jessy C.
P., x-Virginia J., i-Ernestine Housel, r-Mama and Sadie, 9-"We, Us and Co.," I -Adelaide, Gerald and Adrian, z-Mar-
guerite Sturdy, 5 -Mary V. D. Byram, Lillian Davis, 3 -Lotti A. D., -" Haddonfield," r Robert B. Farson, 3 -" We Four,"
I-Emory J., i-Effie K. Talboys, 7--Belle Hume, 2-"Two Smart Little Girls," --Mary Pratt, 2-Julia and Deas, 2--Dudley
and Minme, 4- Pearl F. Stevens, so-" Tattycoram," i Laura M. Zinser, 6 -" Romeo and Juliet," 2 Oscar Treadwell, I -Louise
Brigden, I -Helen Diehl, I- Caroline Fellowes, i-Belle and Alison, 5-"The Brownies," i-Addison Neil Clark, io-Ada Hocker,
I--Ralph B. Mason, 2-" The Quartette," 7- Marian Lent, 2--Helen L. J., 2 -" The Mad Tea-Party," 9-Lois and Elsie Metcalf,
3 -Daisy R. Gorham, 3 Polly, 3 -Lucille E. Rosenberg, -" The Butterflies," 8 -" Ana, Mana, Mona, Mike," 2 -" Adirondack
Party," o M. Louise Baldwin, I- Hattie M., i Bessie Crocker, o-" Mama and I," 6- Mia Olmsted, 2 No name, Garrison, 6
-"Two Jersey Mosquitos," so-R. O. B., 7-Marjory Gane, 5-E. M. Cassels, i--G. B. D. and M., o- L. Fletcher Craig, 4-
Jennie Liebmann, lo- Geo. S. Seymour, o Mable Snow and Dorothy Swinburne, io-" September Gale," Marjorie E. Bushnell, i.

FALSE COMPARATIVES. caused forgetfulness of the past. 6. A swimming bird.
7. To verify. 8. An Egyptian gateway to a large build-
EXAMPLE: Positive, a boy; comparative, a portable ing. 9. A large stake driven into the ground as a sup-
frame for ascending or descending. Answer, lad, ladder, port for some superstructure. Io. To cut in thin slices.
I. Positive, a want; comparative, a fine varnish. 1i. To draw- off by degrees. 12. To burn with hot
2. Positive, a support; comparative, seemly. liquid. 13. A hard outside covering. L. W.


3. rositve, a saluration; comparative, an aroor.
4. Positive, angry; comparative, a plant used in
making pigments.
5. Positive, kind of meat; comparative, a carpenter's
tool.
6. Positive, part of a ship; comparative, a ruler.
7. Positive,a body of water; comparative, toconsider.
8. Positive, money earned by labor; comparative, a
bet.
9. Positive, a preposition; comparative, to fade.
10. Positive, an uproar; comparative, a hearty meal.
I1. Positive, a wrap; comparative, to prance.
12. Positive, a narrow binding; comparative, to grow
smaller.
13. Positive, to slide; comparative, a foot-covering.
ALICE I. H.

ZIGZAG.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the
name of a certain school mentioned in one of Charles
Dickens's stories.
CROSS-WORDS: I. One backward in book learning.
2. A number. 3. A trench. 4. To wash by immer-
sion. 5. A river of Hades whose waters when drunk


DOUBLE ZIGZAG.
I .. II
.2 . 12
3 13 -
4 14 *
5 15
6 16 .

S. 8 .
S. 19 .

10 20 .

CROSS-WORDS: I. Justifies. 2. Releases from slavery.
3. Planned. 4. Engines. 5. Smirks. 6. Brings to
light. 7. A character in "The Merchant of Venice."
8. Senselessly. 9. The state of being stopped. io. The
principal sail in a ship.
When the above words have been rightly guessed,
the letters represented by the numbers from I to lo will
spell one of the Presidents of the United States; the
letters represented by the numbers from 11 to 20, a saint
whose festival occurs on December sixth. F. s. F.







176 .THE RIDDLE-BOX.









to enrich; right front leg, a planet; side rou
i -,ILLUSTRATED cent; front round, cheerless.
/PKMA-L
S ACROSTIC. CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
WHEN the names of MY first is in poplar, but not in be
3 the twelve objects pic- My second, in learning, but not in t
7771 tured have been rightly My third is in tube, but not in pipe
guessed, the initial let- My fourth, in tomtit, but not in sni
ters will spell the title My fifth is in satrap, but not in lor
of an English states- My sixth is in musket, but not in s
man who was born in My seventh, in modest, but not in c
4 December, 180o. My eighth is in sadness, but not in
CHARADE. My ninth is in mink, but not in fox
My tenth is in pan, but not in box;
MY first is a river far My eleventh is in eagle, but not in
away; My whole is a favorite Christmas di
;r sr My second's a syllable "SAMUEL S
ending in "a";
My tkirdisamember we HIDDEN BIRDS.
My whole cannot see THE names of forty-five birds are conceale
though it has many lowing story. Which are they?
S eyes. In April, 1892, I started on a long trip,
M. F. R. wife, Phoebe, at Acra, near Cairo, where dan
ar rowing, and erratic mountain-climbing would
CHAIR PUZZLE, attention, and my only son at Chautauqua, ill
SI took the first steamer from New York, a floa
.decorated with blue agleamwith gold. Amoni
voyagers was a gentleman named Cass. O
he, going to England to establish a bee-ma
S. .. pool. The day I met him he exclaimed, wit
Shared starting to his face, Pardon me, but o
Slapel I can see some purple ink." That re
of my secretary. Birds, insects, and cats
S ..... The next day a hard storm rocked the sl
Biblical ark. Neptune, robing himself in fear
stirred up the mighty deep. The ship filled v
waters, though buckets and pipe received th
The ship sank I slid over the rail and ju
a spar, rowing for the land. The north sta
S in the sky, flickered; and the moon's waning
BACKofchair(aword- to greater activity. Porpoises wallowed aroi
S square) : An autumn poor fellow with a flapping old fin chopped
S( flower. 2. A large net. Ah, that night's work was bitter, never, I
3. The hero of a play by repeated.
oShakspere. 4. To clear At length, I was cast upon an island. H
of knots. 5. To rejuve- a rustic home, near rolling land, part ridges,
nate. It looked cultivated; but can a rye-field be
Seat of chair (across): I knocked at the door of the house. It wai
a. To rejuvenate. 2. A a Turk-eyed, swarthy man. I asked who
SSpartan serf. 3Rulers You can't see madame," he answered. "S
t. of Russia. 4. A Roman Bills are coming in, and she mourns her lost
magistrate. Down- looked within. Madame, in a bunting gov
Sward: I. In chair. 2. with ruffles, exclaimed as follows: "Do nc
SAn interjection. 3. A ward! This melon is green. Let it alone!
kind of trap. 4. Other- Keep the thing if you want to! How could
wise. 5. A plant from to come ? Who has used my pen, Guinever
P 12 P?.W which blue coloring- O,let me think!" Surprised to see her atte
matter is derived. 6. A ardently about so disagreeable a creature, I p
r prefix. 7. Half of a all haste on the salver, but in turning stepped'
narrow cut. 8. In a deed which ended-in a quarrel.
bureau. How long the time seemed on this islanC
Back leg (five letters), house is now rented, I hear, and I am safely
P0, severity; left front leg, more. GEORGE, CLARA, SARA, IDA, Al
THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


nd, magnifi-
H. M. A.


ech;
each;

;
pe;
d;
word;
oy;
joy;

fish;
:sh.
SYDNEY."


d in the fol-

leaving my
cing, music,
- occupy her
with grippe.
ting palace,
g my fellow-
, wary was
rt in Liver-
*h a look of
n your coat-
eminded me
annoy him.
lip like the
ful majesty,
vith rushing
e flood.
imped upon
r, lingering
g roused me
und me, one
almost off.
hope, to be

[ere I found
part gullies.
found here ?
s opened by
lived there.
ihe 's cross.
riches." I
vn, trimmed
)t clap, Ed-
But,phaw!
Ira venture
e, you or I?
:ndants buzz
ut a card in
on a chick-

I! But the
Some once
ND MARY.
























































e 77





.r~rr .1110L


3
~OL
~: --~. .-.1,

i







/ ----


















4 '
H4,,



















L il




















H. A,
~'4-

'4'~'










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

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