• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Along Newfoundland and labrado...
 The black duck
 A business anouncement
 Christ and the wonderful lamp
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 The tee-hee girl
 A boy of the first empire
 Butterfly pets
 The robin's song
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 Wild mice, rats, and gophers
 Three freshman: Ruth, Fran, and...
 The clever princess
 Two little Americans at the court...
 It's an ill wind that blows nobody...
 The song of the metro-gnome
 A fairy tale without a moral
 Jack-in-the-pulpit
 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/UF00065513/00295
 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: VID00295
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 442
    Along Newfoundland and labrador
        Page 443
        Page 444
        Page 445
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
        Page 449
        Page 450
        Page 451
    The black duck
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
        Page 456
        Page 457
        Page 458
        Page 459
    A business anouncement
        Page 460
        Page 461
    Christ and the wonderful lamp
        Page 462
        Page 463
        Page 464
        Page 465
        Page 466
        Page 467
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
        Page 468
        Page 469
        Page 470
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
    The tee-hee girl
        Page 474
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 474
        Page 475
        Page 476
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Page 481
        Page 482
        Page 483
    Butterfly pets
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
    The robin's song
        Page 487
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 488
        Page 489
        Page 490
        Page 491
        Page 492
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
    Wild mice, rats, and gophers
        Page 498
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
    Three freshman: Ruth, Fran, and Nathalie
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
        Page 507
    The clever princess
        Page 508
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
    Two little Americans at the court of King Christian IX
        Page 512
        Page 513
        Page 514
    It's an ill wind that blows nobody good
        Page 515
    The song of the metro-gnome
        Page 515
    A fairy tale without a moral
        Page 516
        Page 517
        Page 518
        Page 519
    Jack-in-the-pulpit
        Page 520
        Page 521
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 522
        Page 523
    The letter box
        Page 524
        Page 525
        Page 526
    The riddle box
        Page 527
        Page 528
    Back Matter
        Page 530
    Back Cover
        Page 531
        Page 532
    Spine
        Page 533
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DRAWN BY C. M. RELYEA.

LOOKING UP INTO HIS FACE, SHE SAID:

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NICHOLAS.


VOL. XXII.


APRIL, 1895.


ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.

By GUSTAV KOBBE.


THE most northerly lighthouse on the coast
of this continent stands on Belle Isle, at the
head of the straits of that name, a little north-
east of Newfoundland. By what freak of taste
it was called Belle Isle I cannot say; for even
the old navigators had such a horror of it that
on their charts they marked it with the figure
of a demon.
The morning the little mail-steamer on which
I cruised "down on the Labrador," as the New-
foundlanders say, plunged and rolled past it
through the surge, the rugged mass of rock
crouched there as if ready to seize its prey
of ships and human lives. The surf, unheard
at our distance, flashed around its base like
a long row of glistening teeth. A huge iceberg
had drifted in and lay stranded at one end of
the island; far up on the rocks was the light-
house; on a shelf below stood a little hut with
provisions for shipwrecked sailors; the gray
morning mists made the sea look heavy and
sodden, and altogether this glimpse of Belle
Isle was the most desolate scene I had ever
beheld. Over our bow the barren coast of Lab-
rador was faintly outlined, and as the last light-
house on the continent dropped astern, I felt


that we were indeed drawing away from civili-
zation; and this feeling was strengthened when,
as we turned our prow northward, we sighted
the vanguard of the seemingly endless proces-
sion of huge icebergs drifting slowly down in
single file from the mysterious regions of the
north.
We had met with single bergs along the
Newfoundland coast, but off Labrador they
became a constant and unspeakably grand fea-
ture in the seaward view. I doubt if they can
be seen anywhere else except in Arctic and
Antarctic waters in such numbers, variety,
and grandeur. The branch of the Gulf Stream
which pushes its way into the Arctic Ocean has
sufficient force left when it is reflected by the
frozen northern boundary of that sea to send
an icy current down along the Labrador coast.
Practically all the bergs that break loose from
the ice-sheathed shores of Greenland are borne
southward by this current. One morning, when
I went up on deck, I counted no less than one
hundred and thirty-five huge ones. Some of
these were great solid blocks of ice; others were
arched with numerous Gothic passageways;
some reached with spire-like grace high up into


Copyright, 1895, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


ST.


No. 6.






ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


the air; all reflected with prismatic glory the
rays of the sun.
The "iron-bound" coast of Labrador is
guarded by groups of islands-barren, hope-
less, and forlorn-looking rocks, all the more
desolate in appearance for the miserable fishing-
huts or "tilts" that have been thrown together
on them. Entering through some narrow pas-
sage between these islands, the steamer anchors
for the night in a rock-bound basin; for it is
too dangerous work to navigate the Labrador
waters after dark. The narrow passages be-
tween the islands, both along the Labrador
and in the Newfoundland bays, are called
"tickles," and aptly so, for it seems as if the
sea had reached out foamy fingers and tickled
the rocky ribs of the coast until it split its sides
with grim, stormy laughter. One evening we
found one of these tickles nearly blocked by a
huge iceberg which had drifted into it and
grounded. We passed near enough to feel its
chilling breath, and to have thrown a biscuit on
it, as the sailors say. We had hardly anchored
in the harbor before we heard loud reports in
rapid succession, like the firing of field artillery.
Looking in the direction from which they came,
we saw above the heights that surrounded
the basin, the peak of the iceberg swaying
slowly and majestically to and fro, and finally
disappearing, a peak of different shape rising up
from behind the height and taking its place.
They say that an avalanche is sometimes so
delicately poised that the vibrations from a
shout or a hand-clap will start it on its destruc-
tive course, and possibly the wash from our
steamer had disturbed the iceberg's equilibrium.
At night the moon rose and the Northern Lights
throbbed in the sky; so that the iceberg's peak
was at times bathed in silver, at times in a clear
translucent crimson. It is n't often you find a
combination of iceberg, moonlight, and North-
ern Lights; and feeling that I might never
again behold such an exquisite scene, I re-
mained for hours on deck watching it.
I think the height of icebergs is usually over-
stated. When an object towers above you, it
is apt to seem much higher than it really is.
At first sight I thought some of the bergs we
passed were four or five hundred feet high, but
I doubt if the highest was over two hundred.


But you can imagine what a vast mass of ice a
berg is, when I remind you that only about
one tenth of it is above water. It is dangerous
to venture near an iceberg, because you never
know when you may strike upon its submerged
portion as upon a rock. The captain of a New-
foundland steamer-he was an old Arctic navi-
gator, too -once ran near a berg to please
some passengers. The wash from the steamer
disturbed the berg's equilibrium and caused it
to sway. Part of it that had been under water
rose to the surface under the steamer and lifted
it out of the water. For a moment it seemed
as if the vessel was doomed. It might have
been crushed under tons of falling ice, or top-
pled bottom up into the sea. Fortunately there
was a slope in the ice down which the steamer
slid as from the launching-ways. No great
damage was done, but I doubt if that captain
ever again gratifies his passengers' curiosity.
Of course some icebergs are mere mounds, and
the fishermen have a cheerful method of secur-
ing their ice-supply by going out in their boats,
catching a small berg, and towing it ashore.
Not only bergs but ice-packs are often seen
here in summer. The fishermen call a pack a
"loom of ice "; and on my cruise I saw late in
August, off Cape Harrigan, the white glare of
the distant loom, which the week before had
kept nearly the whole offshore fishing-fleet help-
lessly locked in one of the harbors.
Owing to the vanguard of rocky islands
strung out along this coast, harbors are numer-
ous- so numerous that a quaint Western man,
the only passenger besides myself who ventured
on the mail-boat this cruise, remarked that if
harbors were only worth a cent apiece, Labra-
dor would be one of the richest countries in the
world. But, in spite of these many shelters,
rocks and ice are so fatal to shipping on this
coast that the mail-boat rarely returns from a
trip without bringing in some shipwrecked
crew. After one storm three hundred ship-
wrecked sailors were transferred by her at Bat-
tle Harbor to the larger vessel which plies
between there and St. John's. On our trip we
picked up the crew of a stanch English vessel
whose captain had, in entering one of the
tickles, to choose between ice and rocks, and
so ran her on the latter. When we entered a





































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SCENE IN LABRADOR. ICEBERGS BY MOONLIGHT AND THE NORTHERN LIGHTS.


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ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


harbor our mate always took soundings, but
before we let go the anchor our captain would
sing out: "Any timber, Mr. Parsons? If the
mate said Yes," it meant that some vessel had
left its poor old ribs on the rocky bottom, and
we must drift on and sound again.
Sometimes Labrador is ice-bound from Sep-
tember till June; but through all this long
and dreary winter the lighthouse-keeper on


fuel enough to maintain camp-fires. Often,
indeed, they had difficulty in making even a
little blaze for cooking.
Naturally, such a country has not invited
settlers, and it is not surprising to learn that
in its whole vast area -two and a half times
as large as Great Britain and Ireland -there
are not more than four thousand dwellers; of
these only about one half are whites, the others


RED BAY. A LABRADOR OUTPOST.


Belle Isle must maintain his watch, to be
ready to light the lamp when the break-up
comes. For months he sees nothing but a
frozen plain, uncertain of footing and impass-
able, and in the distance the ice-sheathed cliffs
of Newfoundland. The few who have made
their way to the interior of Labrador say it is a
vast wilderness of huge boulders, varied only by
morasses and lakes. An old French writer
speaks of it as the "Land of Cain," and the
latest explorers complained that they suffered
bitterly from cold because they could not find


being Eskimos and Hudson Bay Company trap-
pers and hunters. These are a shiftless lot who
come down to the nearest Company post
early in summer, and exchange their pelts for
provisions, planting themselves down at the
post, and proceeding to gorge themselves until
their entire stock is exhausted. A pound of
tea and a bag of flour is the most that one
band of these "mountaineers has been known
to carry back--all they had to show, except
temporarily satisfied appetites, for their whole
winter's work as hunters.in that desolate region.


446


[APRIL,







ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


447


t"enity years at one ;:r these deMsclate outposts
o1" ci iliati-nii, ientr to Londo:n for a little
change, retiunitd t.: Labradjir 'ias ::n as
pcscib-le bec:au-r he fund London "so
lonely"; and Hiud-.:rn Bai Co:.mpar.n agents
i hi: have gi-\l up their ipoit:'-i[ .n to go back
't: ci:\!iati.:n lia e been *glad to return to
their p.u r. Tihc, nii-:ed the Ifree. i en-air
life; but abl: e aill, pro.rbabl, their auto-
cra.ut sayi, \ni'h nmakec, them kirin within
the boundaries ol the post.
A Labrado.r iluiing-srtge ULIually'c'onistsof


The-e rr-ppr.' and 1Imrritersare Inrdian-.
but .e :i s calleJd nlmiuntirieeis" :
while the Ecliimri:,, %%hN hive riot a dii:op.i:,
Indiain blh.od in tienm, are called Indian .
though Iluskies is Ithe ti- o:rire term lt ,r
them amont the fl.h,-rrmen. The fihsermrnn,
most\ Nu ;:urdlaindc i, skirt tile LAtbr.idor
coa-t in sumnlmer in 'J-ep-uater crai. t:.r fill
up the ro:UL.h hiil'.- sta es n tlihe ri cki
island-:, which djuririn- the n inter !i\e been
either o holl\ d.s,-rtei. or left in chiare.
of a sto:rekeeper.
There must be some attraction in this
wild life; for a keeper who, after living


" GASHERS --LABRADOR FISHING-BOATS.


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1895.]


-., *







ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


a long, low frame-house, and little one-room
huts, or tilts," as they are called. The house
is used as a store and dwelling for the agent
of the Newfoundland merchant who has fitted
up the stage. All the fishermen who occupy
the tilts work for the merchant, and are paid
for their fish in provisions from the store.


out boats, bottom up, and nets spread over the
ground to dry. Here, too, I saw for the first
time the dapper little Labrador gasher-a small
fishing-craft not much larger than a dory, but
with sharp prow and stern, and two masts fitted
with reddish-brown sails. These are telling bits
of color when the gashers skim over the deep


A FISHING-VESSEL IN A LABRADOR "TICKLE."


The tilts are like those seen in the New-
foundland fishing and mining outposts (every
settlement in Newfoundland except St. John's
is an outpost). The sides are logs set upright
and supporting sod-covered roofs-wretched
abodes at the best. Along the Straits of Belle
Isle the Labrador coast is fringed with a strip
of coarse grass land, and here you may see an
occasional small vegetable-garden surrounded
by a fish-net for a fence. At Blanc Sablon I
saw a desolate little burying-ground amid the
swaying rushes. Near by lay a couple of worn-


blue water, with the foam streaking along their
quarters and glittering in their wake. Alto-
gether it was a varied scene: the headland,
from a staff on which there fluttered the flag
of the merchant who owned the outfit"; the
gashers dashing- in and out among the punts
and jacks (stoutly built two-stickers larger than
the gashers); a fishing-schooner with furled sails,
but with toil-stained nets streaming from her
spars in an endless variety of lights and
shadows, according as the meshes twisted or
bulged in the breeze; and in the distance the


448


[APRIL,







ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


A BELFRY AT LITTLE BAY, NEWFOUNDLAND.
exquisite green-and-white spires of an iceberg.
A note of toil drones through it all, however';


for women are sawing and chopping wood
while the men are hauling the nets. A curious
implement of fishing in these waters is a spy-
glass with plain window-glass in place of a
lens. A man in the bow of a fishing-boat
thrusts the glass in the water, and, peering
through it, discovers whether there are fish
enough on the bottom to make it worth while
to anchor; for anchoring in deep water is a
toilsome matter.
In winter Labrador is simply frozen out from
the rest of the world. One "komitick," or dog-
sled, mail reaches some of the more southerly
settlements late in the spring. The Moravian
missionaries at the Eskimo villages further
north endeavor at least once a winter to visit by
komitick the few scattered white settlers within
a hundred miles or so of the missions. Some-
times the komitick is overtaken by a severe
snow-storm before shelter can be obtained.
Then the missionary and his Eskimo driver dig
a deep ditch down in the snow, and camp in the
bottom. The gases from the camp-fire prevent
the snow from floating in, and the travelers are
sheltered from the icy blasts. At Battle Har-


BRINGING IN WOOD ON A DOG-AND-SAIL SLED.


449







ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


bor, Labrador, where there is a church (there As the Battle Harbor mission is too poor to
are only two churches, I think, on the Labra- furnish the wee church with a bell, the rector
dor coast south of the Moravian missions), they signals the call to service with a flag. High
have a public sewing-machine, and one long among the rocks at Little Bay, Newfound-
land, I saw two
S- little churches. One
..-..--.., of these had a
small belfry perched
on a still higher
-* rock. The other's
| bell swung from a
tall spar; and to
ring it one was
obliged to climb a
Sadder much like
S the shrouds of a
~ vessel. The dog-sled
"-ry low, the wo "e is also the regular
d method of winter
CZ .;'li-.. ". traveling over the
7- frozen bays of New-
foundland; only it
is drawn by New-
foundland dogs in-
,' stead of by the
half-wolfish Eskimo
canines upon which
the men of Labrador
have to rely. The
Eskimo dogs, with
the equally savage
mosquitos, make life
ashore a burden
during summer in
Labrador. A stick
to beat off the dogs
a- and a veil as a pro-
tection against the
mosquitos are ab-
solutely necessary.
It is a curious fact
that the further
north you go. the
more pestiferous the
mosquitos become.
LOGIE BAY, COAST OF NEWFOUNDLAND. (SEE NEXT PAGE.) They are worse in
Labrador than in
winter, when the kerosene-oil supply became New Jersey, and are still worse in Greenland
very low, the women gathered at the parsonage than even in Labrador.
and did their sewing by the parsonage lamp. Fish" in Newfoundland and Labrador


450


[APRIL,







ALONG NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.


I Ii ': l i I e r i

cotton is o hate
SEALING IX LABRADOR. cotton is to the
South. All other
fish, except salmon, they despise, for "fish"
is money. With it they buy their clothes,
their flour, tea, "bread" (hard sea-biscuit),
and, above all, their "long sweetness" (mo-
lasses), which are about the only edibles you
will find in ninety-nine out of a hundred tilts.
When a Newfoundlander speaks of Venison
Tickle, or some other fishing-stage, as the "gar-
den of Labrador," he does not mean that flowers
and vegetables grow there in abundance, but
that the waters of the tickle teem with "fish."
In Newfoundland fishing is carried on from reg-
ularly settled villages and several of the larger
outpost towns. The fishing-village best known
among tourists is Quiddy Viddy, about two miles
from St. John's; but Logie Bay, five miles from
that city, is the more picturesque. The bay is
simply a narrow split in the beetling cliffs. Lines
to which the boats are moored have been hung
across it, and so steep are the sides that the fish
are pitchforked from platform to platform built


over narrow shelves at
successive heights, the
huts hanging from the
declivity far above the
level of the sea, like
cliff-swallows' nests.
Late in February the
Newfoundland sealing-
steamers break through
the ice in St. John's
.-h. arbor, and make their
way to some northern
outpost, lying there un-
til March o, the earliest
date on which the law
-allows them to "go to
n c the ice." They stand
The' y out to sea until they
S : meettheimmense fields
of ice from the Arctic
(Oceal. Tihe:a te. lds are often many square
niiles in, c.tent, and fairly teem with seals. A
,eait -eaI-hiat br t,:id me that the sea seemed
-:udi l ,:,:,ir,_ne into an ocean of seals and
ice. li he :rem.r breaks into the jam and
il:,t4 Lith it o:r sl;itr along the edge, the crew,
two or tihnc hundred in number, taking to the
floating ice and living there for days and nights.
The young seals fatten so rapidly that sealers
say you can actually see them grow while you
are looking at them. The poor creatures are
easily killed, a blow with the butt end of a gaff
finishing them. The hunter then "sculps," or
skins them, inserting a sharp knife under the
fat and with marvelous dexterity taking off the
"pelt"-skin and fat together-in about a
minute and a half. A party of men will pan"
their pelts,-pile them up to the number of
about a thousand,- and thrust a gaff with the
ship's flag into the pan. When there are pans
enough, the steamer breaks into the ice and
hauls them aboard with a donkey-winch; or
the men drag them to the vessel's side.
The Newfoundland seal-hunters always speak
of seals as swiles," and for our word carry they
say "spell." A school-master, who 'had been
listening to a seal-hunter's story, said sneeringly:
"Swiles! How do you spell swiles?"
"We don't spell 'em," replied the hunter;
" we most generally hauls 'em!"













M mltt.
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-Vi


BY VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.


YESTERDAY I found a delightful book, and of
course it was in an attic. Our ancestors may
not have stored things in attics expressly to
have us discover them, but we continue to do
so from time to time, and they are undoubt-
edly more interesting from being a bit cob-
webby and mysterious.. The attic in which I
found the delicious book had in it hidden
things which looked as if they might be the first
patterns of everything we use now. Probably
the most desirable trait about this attic was
that it did not possess a place for anything or
anything in its place.
For instance, I found a bonnet hanging on a
pair of andirons.
But for the green silk strings no one would ever
dream it was a bonnet. It looked much more
like a coal-scuttle, and had as many enormous
bones as a prehistoric skeleton. It must have
belonged to a very-great-grandmother. No one
without several greats before her name could
have worn that bonnet! Behind the andirons
was a cradle, and in the cradle was a long pole
with a red silk arrangement which once meant
a fire-screen. Beside it stood a clock with a
moon face and long chains and weights. It
looked so much like a Dutch doll, with just
head and legs, that I laughed aloud. But an
attic is not a place in which to laugh unless
one has company. Everything was rebukingly
still, and so was I immediately.
Near the clock was a table shaped like a
long-legged spider. It looked as if just ready
to walk off alone. I was quite sure it belonged
to the bonnet and the fire-screen, and that


somewhere there were blue cups and saucers,
which one might break by talking too loud,
and that they belonged to the table.
In a far corner stood a picture with its face
to the wall.
I drew it out and rested it against the table.
Of course it was dusty. -I never heard of the
right sort of an attic, which-was kept dusted.
It was the picture of a lady. I knew that at
once, just as we always know a lady when we
see one. The picture was rather dim, but I
could easily discern that she was very young
and slim, with a white throat and bright, dark
eyes. Her hair, done very high, was of a
ruddy brown, and she had on a short-waisted
white satin frock, and held a half-open fan
primly in her hands.
It was easy to see that she was just where
she belonged-beside the spider-legged table.
I had no doubt that she could have told the
whereabouts of the blue cups and saucers!
Thinking about this lady, my eyes encountered
another pair of eyes staring straight at mine.
My heart jumped once and stood still until
I recognized the eyes as my own.
I was gazing into a mirror. It was a dim,
queer mirror with a crack like an enormous
smile across its face, and pale enough to hold
only the ghost of light which once shone in it.
Two rods supported it. They held a brass
candlestick apiece, and rested on a little stand
which had a drawer. I sat down on a hair-
trunk before this little stand. The drawer had
brass knobs and might have been locked once,
but time or rust made it open easily, and then-








such an assortment of odds and ends! Faded
ribbons and flowers and beads, and a feather-
fan which, when I opened it, filled the air with
a musty dust that made me sneeze! Under
these scraps was a box, and under the box was
a book-The book.
The box first.
It held a silk bag, yellow with age a bag





-,
i I' I '

I i. i








.. I.' A` i '


453


colored; and painted on one pale blue side
was a young person in rose-colored panniers
and enormous hoops, who was coyly accepting
a bouquet from a young gentleman who wore
crimson breeches and a white wig.
Where had I seen that fan? My eyes met
those of the lady. Yes, the same fan was in
her hand. I could just make out a glimpse of


I'.P I'

'I;


"'THOU MUST BE UP AND AWAY BEFORE BREAK OF DAWN."' (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
which used to be called a reticule. In the reti- the rose-hued damsel and the bouquet. Inside
cule were a handkerchief, fine and lacy and also the box-top was written one word, nearly faded
yellow; a tiny looking-glass set in shells; and out:
a square of paper carefully pinned. The last -,.
contained only dry, yellow rose-leaves. Under
the bag lay another fan. It had delicate sticks She was Lois, then, this young lady with the
and a cord and tassel which once were rose- slim white throat and the dark eyes, and this


THE BLACK DUCK.






THE BLACK DUCK.


was her fan; and Lois, I knew, had been my
great-grandaunt. The book came next.
It had a square of paper pasted on its brown
cover, and on it was written in unformed char-
acters :
LOIS, HER BOOK.

Underneath, in the same childish letters:
mother Says i shall Rite dayly in This book
that Whitch doth impress Me most and Also
that falt which needs Be coreckted."
She immediately adds:
"i need Care in My Riting and spelling "
There begins from that date, on which she
says she is eight years of age, a daily chronicle
written with laborious care. It noted some oc-
currences which the child thought important, or
some faults which she was trying to correct.
The second entry reads thus:
"the Ducks strayed to the Berynground
[doubtless the churchyard] i Went to fetch
them but Did not Want to."
The third entry:
"Father says i Can Hav Clovers Caf fore
my Owne. i wud Hav it wen it Grows Bigger
and Get More munny. Mother says Munny is
A Root of Evle which I do not Understand
We do Not plante munny."
These entries varied only according to the
daily duties in the domestic regime, or the
childish faults which were sometimes noted
with a large black cross on certain days. On
two occasions the pages were sadly smeared
and blurred as if unwilling tears had been shed
thereon. Once was when the Dominie made
her turn her face to the wall for being late to
school because she stopped to pick blackber-
ries. Again was when her mother forced her
to rip out a long seam twice and do it over.
This last was evidently written in an outburst
of childish rebellion, for the black cross was
very heavy.
At a date two years later my Aunt Lois's hand-
writing and spelling had improved vastly. The
steady, painstaking practice of writing daily in
her book showed its results. In the time which
followed she grew older rapidly, doubtless from
hearing and experiencing the excitement shed
around her by the expected War of the Revo-
lution. The Day Book soon ceased to be a.


daily duty. When she wrote, it was with the
grave fears and hopes which she heard uttered
by her elders, yet, withal, a note here and there
of her own vivacious spirit which she admits
"doth cause my mother ofttimes to shake her
head and rebuke me for having many words."
At the bursting of the war-cloud of American
Revolution she goes on to tell of busy. hours
filled by herself and her mother in preparing
food and supplies. Then comes the day when
her father left home to enter the army, and
again the page is blurred.
There is little of importance thereafter until
the longest entry of all, which I will copy from
my Aunt Lois's book, beginning under the date
of January ro, 1777.
She writes:

When I awakened New Year's night and
beheld my mother over me with a candle, I
thought it was a dream, but she laid her hand
on me and spake aloud:
"Lois! Lois! Awake quickly; I have need
of thee!"
[The mother of my great-grandaunt being
raised a Friend, both she and Aunt Lois had ac-
quired their mode of speech. She continues:]
"It is not dawn," said I; for not having a
man to help us, I must even go out to the barn
at dawn and make ready for the day.
No, God be thanked, it is not dawn," quoth
my mother. Thou must be up and away be-
fore break of dawn, my child; so hasten!"
I sprang up and quickly put on my clothing,
knowing that my mother would explain it in
her own time, for at best she hath few words.
Coming nearer, she said, Breathe it not, Lois,
but thy father is here,- shot!"
"My father!-here-shot?- I began in
fear. But she urged me to hasten and pause
not. My mother then made known to me how
that my father had been given a most perilous
errand,-namely, to gather some information,
and bear it or send it by means of a paper to
our Commander-in-chief, General Washington,
he then being, as my father surmised, on his
way from Trenton to Princeton, but nobody
knew by what road. My father, in making
a wide circuit around for better concealment,
was shot; but not so General," his horse, who


[APRL,





THE BLACK DUCK.


rushed for the woods, and in so doing concealed
my father the better. My mother went on to
tell me that inasmuch as my father did lose
several hours from unconsciousness and weak-
ness, though still clinging to General's neck,
he found himself when he aroused all but home,
whereto General had brought him straight.
'T is wonderful he did not fall off! spake
my mother; and, Lois, see to 't no one learns
from thee of thy father's coming."
"Nay," quoth I; "there is no other gossip
to prattle with saving thyself and Clover."
Then marked I my mother's face as she laid
her hand upon her heart and let her eyes rest
upon me, and some way I understood.
Lois," quoth she, "thy father's errand must
be finished for him. I dare not leave him to go."
"Nay," said I; "I will go, mother."
She spake not, but turned away, and I saw
she was sorely troubled.
Mother," spake I, hastening the more, "let
it not fright thee. I know not what the errand
be, but my father is wise and good, and I will
but do as he saith.: I have no fear!"
Nay, hadst thou more I would fret less,"
spake my mother. ".TI,:u :irt thy father again,
Lois,--ever venturesome and knowing not of
fear !"
While speaking she laid by me my heavy
quilted petticoat and pelisse, for the snow
which came after was already in the air. Then
by the lantern's light, at my mother's bidding,
I put my own saddle on General George, add-
ing my father's saddle-pockets. For General,
whom I have named after good General Wash-
ington, hath tremendous strength, and was'al
ready, having had a meal, fit-.to be off again..
I then straightway ate a hasty bit which my
mother had prepared, placing the remainder in
the saddle-pockets. My mother then put on
me her own quilted bonnet, and over it tied a
heavy comforter: I still not knowing what it
was I should undertake, but knowing I should
hear in good time. I strove to push back the
comforter, but my mother adjusted it, saying:
"Nay; let be! 'T were better to have thy
face covered when a lass like thee goes about
at such an hour."
Then in the dim light I sought my father's
couch, where he had fallen an hour before.


My daughter, are you there ?" spake my
father.
I answered, and drew nigh as he said:
"You are going an errand for me, daughter?"
"Yes, father," quoth I.
"Do you know its nature, Lois?" said he,
weakly.
"No, father," said I.
"It is to bear that which is of value and
intrusted to me. It must go to the first officer
of the American army you can find this side
of the town."
"The town quoth I, in wonderment; for
that is full thirty miles away.
"And I would not have you go thinking it
a safe or wise thing for a maid to do," quoth
he. There are dangers which I cannot even
warn you against, not knowing them. Only
this.: you may be arrested and searched, Lois;
hence you must bear naught about your person.
You must also feign some reason for going to-
ward the town at this time; hence, your mo-
ther will put in the saddle-pockets two ducks
she hath already killed. You are going to
bear them to Mistress Van Tyne, who dwells
this side of the town; they are a New Year's
dinner from thy mother-" His voice failed
from weakness, and my mother held a hot drink
to his lips before he wept on.
One thing, my daughter:, should you be
halted on the way, and should they strive to
take the ducks, give up the white one with a
show of resistance, but hold to the black one
with life and wit -"
"And why the black one, father ?" I asked.
The papers are in its craw."
I being too amazed at this to speak, he
went on.
Should you find no trouble, and should you
meet with one of our own commanders, give
him the paper or the duck, and tell him straight-
way what I have told you. Should no one
meet or molest you, ride on to Mistress Van
Tyne's, near by the town. Tell her all, and that
't is pressing needful that the black duck be
sent on td General Washington. I know not
where you may find any of our men six hours
hence. Keep but your eye keen, your wit
clear, and your trust in God. Go, now! I
kissed my father and went, as he bade me.


455






THE BLACK DUCK.


"The pass, which may be of use to thee,
is stitched in the crown .of thy hood, lest wind
blow it away," said my mother, kissing me.
She followed me with a lantern, as I went out
and mounted General George.
It was very dark and cold; and my mother
held my hand closely
for an instant, and then
went in and shut the
door. There was no i
sound as General can- A
tered down the lane,
saving here and there
the faint bark of a
dog, and always the
echo of the horse's
hoofs on the frozen
ground. I knew that
he must not go too
hard at the first; for
both he and I would
need the speed and
exercise when it grew
colder, as it soon did.
I felt it but little for
some time, so muffled
was I by the comforter.
Indeed, at cock's crow
I marked two women
going toward their
barns with lanterns; t
but they would not
have known me, and renlemnbering I was
about business of moment. I niad no,, -lgn.
Now and then I felt the iJd:l.-rI-oc~ ets t-:'
be certain of the safety oi tilh dicks. jnd
of the bag of feed which m.n:thr h.d tied
on for General.

Of the long, lonely ride in the Idarkrci--
my Aunt Lois says but little. I think she
must have been bent too seriously on her
errand to feel actual fear, although once
she speaks of being startled for an instant by a
scarecrow in a field "which did come upon me
suddenly." She continues:
The way was all alike save that as I rode
I became more and more stiff and tired; but I
feared to get down lest some one should come
suddenly from ambush and steal the ducks.


Mile after mile did General and I travel before
the first summons to halt, which was about
daybreak. The sudden stopping brought my
heart into my mouth. I had turned a corner
and come upon a clearing against a bit of
woods. There was a small fire, and some men


"THE SENTRY BADE ME HALT."

around it. Another did walk sentry-like to and
fro. 'T was he who bade me halt. He scanned
me most curiously, and then laid his hand on
General's bridle.
"You are my prisoner, mother; so dis-
mount!" quoth he, very superior-like.
"Nay, nay, good sir," said I, ducking a


456


[APRIL,


L-W






THE BLACK DUCK.


courtesy as well as one may on horseback. "I
have often heard tell how that the brave British
would fight only their equals or superiors in
strength, whereas old women and children are
by right left unmolested."
"Truly said, mother," quoth he, laughing.
"You bear at least a ready tongue, but you
may be bearing more than your tongue, for
aught I know. Whither would you ride at this
hour, and alone ? "
I go alone because I know each stick and
stone of the way, good sir; and I go for that I
bear a pair of ducks for Mistress Van Tyne as
a New Year's gift from our own farm."
He shook his head, and the men near by
began to gather around, while my heart did
sink lower than the ground on which General
was pawing. But at the instant two horse-
men appeared out of the woods. One rode
rapidly up and drew rein before me, and I
marked that he was fair and well built, with
honest blue eyes and fearless of mien.
Whom have we here ? he asked.
"A prisoner, sir," said the man at General's
head.
Nay," quoth the young officer, "'t is an old
lady! What will you, mother ?. You had bet-
ter turn about and go back home before you
meet others."
"Nay, good sir," quoth I; "for I have a pass
permitting my family to go to and from the
town with supplies. But 't is stitched in the
crown of my hood. So I would I might re-
move my hood, good sir, and prove it thee!"
At this the young officer laughed, and said
he, "I am sorry, mother, to have you remove
your hood in the cold; but it needs must be
unless you become my prisoner before instead
of afterward!"
Nay, nay," quoth I; I would fain remove
my hood, then; for I have had that off before,
but I have never yet been prisoner of war!"
So dropping the reins on General's neck, I un-
wound the comforter. The air felt most grate-
ful to my head, which was warm, and my face
flushed; and as I pushed the hood back my
hair did tumble all about my neck in trouble-
some confusion, and the soldier who had cried
" alt! exclaimed aloud:
By my sword, 't is a lass!"
VOL. XXII.-58.


The officer made a sign toward him, and as
I looked up he bowed, his own face being quite
flushed, and said:
"You will pardon me, fair Mistress, for mis-
taking your age!"
"Surely, sir, 't was the fault of the hood
and comforter," quoth I, meeting his frank,
blue eyes as I handed him the pass from out
the hood.
"This allows no luggage, Mistress," he spake
hesitatingly.
"Oh, I bear no luggage," said I, "save a
New Year's dinner which I did raise myself."
I was fumbling at the saddle-pockets, mean-
while, with a show of courage which I did not
feel, for my heart was thumping because of the
black duck.
I drew it out,- for I saw he was waiting to see
what I might carry,- and laid it across General's
neck, meanwhile stroking its glossy plumage.
"And wilt thou help me lift the other one
out, good sir," said I, "that thou mayest ex-
amine the saddle-pockets and the bag of feed
for my horse ?" So, holding the white duck in
one hand, he examined the saddle-pockets with
the other.
"Following my own will, Mistress," said he,
"I would fain let you go on; but know you
not that Lord Cornwallis hath already crossed
the Assanpink, and hath his forces stationed in
the town ? Hence you will surely be arrested
and searched this side of it. Therefore, Mis-
tress, my duty is-" He paused, and in a
second I saw that I had to do as my father
had enjoined, and use my wit.
Taking.up the black duck, I held it outward,
saying, Good sir, please hold this, too, for me
an instant "; which he did; and I slipped from
General's back, nearly falling from stiffness
as I reached the ground. I shook out my pet-
ticoat, and showed the empty saddle; then
I laid my hand upon his horse's neck, looking
up in his face, and said I:
Thou hast my word, sir, that thou dost hold
in thy hands my sole reason for going up to
town. I bear naught else about my person,
and that I may prove the ducks quite good to
eat, I pray thee keep one of them, and so share
our New Year's dinner."
"Go to, little Mistress!" quoth he, looking


457






THE BLACK DUCK.


down on me, with a laugh. "A skilful pleader
for one so young! Thinkest to bribe the Brit-
ish army ?"
Nay," said I, meeting his honest blue eyes
as I leaped back on General. "I think not,
good sir, indeed; but I would fain thou shouldst
keep one, for 't is like as not thou art far from
home." As I spoke, I took the black duck,
and left the white one in his hand.
"Thank you kindly, sweet Mistress," said
he; "but despite my will, I must do my duty,
and I fear me thou must come with us."
Even as he spake there was a burst of mus-
ketry from the woods behind them, which made
him wheel around, and every man spring to his
feet. In a trice I had given General such a
cut as he never had before, and darting ahead,
dashed down the road to the left, whither I gal-
loped like mad, pausing not to look behind un-
til I knew there was a mile or more between us,
and that I was not being overtaken. Then,
halting, I fastened the duck again in the saddle-
pocket, and let General take it slowly while I
wondered what next to do.

My Aunt Lois then tells of her quandary on
learning the town to be full of British.
I did not fret to think of being a prisoner,"
she writes; "for at worst I knew they would
not shoot a defenseless maid. But I feared me
lest they should seize the black duck."
She then made up her mind to go straight
ahead, and to hold until the last to the black
duck -" which," she says, "they should not
take from me unless by force of arms, and then
I was determined to go likewise! "
She had no further stoppings until she found
herself six miles from the town, riding by a piece
of woods. She heard there the sound of horses
and of tramping.
"And then it was," she writes, that I felt
somewhat of fright, and straightway wheeled
General into the woods, and waited. It was a
body of men coming very rapidly and, me-
thought, quietly, and my heart thumped loudly
until-what was my joy to see the uniforms of
our own American army! Knowing this, per-
haps, to be my only chance, I rode out in the
road straight before them, whereat they halted
in much surprise."


Then Aunt Lois tells of her interview with
their leader, General Mercer, who got his mor-
tal wounds shortly after at Stony Bridge.
"He was in great haste," she writes, "and
I said I did but bear a black duck of which I
must tell him, whereupon he ordered his men
to march on, and straightway said he, in some
surprise:
"' Now, Mistress, what is it?'
"'It is my father's-John Bradley's-er-
rand,' quoth I, 'to bear this black duck to one
who would send it or its contents to General
Washington this mor, immediately.'
"'So!' said -he, drawing a long breath.
'And thy father?'
"' Was shot while making his way with the
papers.'
"'And the papers ?'
"'Are in the duck's craw, sir,' said I, draw-
ing the bird from out my saddle-pocket.
"'And at what time didst start, little Mis-
tress ?'
"'At two o'clock this mor, sir.'
"'Well, well!' He took the duck and slung
it across his saddle before him. I must has-
ten. I shall see General Washington within an
hour, God willing, and he shall get the papers
-if not by me, by some one else. Good day,
Mistress Bradley.' He bowed. 'The American
army has done well to count you in it!'
"'In. truth, sir,' said I, if they count by
hearts, and not by muskets, their biggest fol-
lowing is left behind!'
"Which, when I did 'tell my mother to-day,
she shook her head at me from the buttery door,
saying, Lois! Lois!' But my father, from his
couch where he lieth weak, saith, 'Tut! Let the
lass be, so that she doth but speak the truth!'
-which from my heart I did."
My Aunt Lois's ride home was uneventful.
As every step took her further from the ap-
proaching armies, she was unmolested, and
feared naught save that General might give
out. It was snowing hard for the greater part
of her journey, and the horse stumbled home-
ward, stiff with cold and lame with fatigue.
She writes:
"Twice after night-time I fell asleep on
General's neck; and when I spied the.candle-
light from the kitchen window, from sheer joy


458


[APRIL,






1895.] THE BLAC

I could have wept. But I called to mind
what the officer had said about being in the
American army, so bore up until my mother
did open the door and fly outward. I could
not stand alone, and fell forward when I slipped
from General's back. They raised me and
bore me into the house.


LOIS DELIVERS THE BLACK DUCK TO GENERAL MERCER

But once in the light of the fire, I marked, for
the first time in my life, the tears running down
my mother's face as she held a hot posset to
my lips.
"'Tell father it went safely,' said I,-' the
black duck'; and then I must have fallen dead
asleep at once, on the settle whereunto my
mother drew me."
My Aunt Lois must have slept for many
hours after that ride, of the hardship of which
she says so little, though she owns, the second
day after, to "a sorely stiff and cramped feeling."


K DUCK. 459
I think, though, that she was fully repaid
even before her father showed her a letter,
long afterward, signed G. Washington," which
among other things expressed the writer's
thanks "for an important service rendered his
country."
"I went a dangerous errand," said Aunt
Lois's father; "but 't would have been naught
save for thee, my daughter; so yours was the
service! "

-A year later my Aunt Lois writes light-
heartedly of a short trip southward with her
father, who was quite recovered "but
for a slight lameness," when she
attended a grand ball "with
my hair done high, and
wearing a new sleeveless
"H white satin gown--
the same which fa-
ther hath had done
in the portrait."
On which occasion
she had the honor
-- of a presentation to
General and Lady
Washington; where,
upon General Wash-
ington, who knew
h er father, said:
S"And is this the
Mistress Bradley
who carried the duck ? "
"Yes, your Excellency,"
said Aunt Lois, laughing,- "a
R. pair of ducks; but I bethought
me that thou wert sharing naught else
with the British, hence I gave them one "
"At which," she writes, "my mother doth
shake her head, and say, 'Oh, Lois! Lois!
Thou wilt ever have the last word!'"

Sweet, bright, brave Aunt Lois!
I closed the book, smiling at its blithe pages,
and knowing that some time sad ones must fol-
low. But, if they do, they belong solely to
the dim, ghostly attic and the dead rose-leaves,
whereas I know she would gladly have us read
about the black duck!




















No trouble to show 8oods.

nch esleblishmenis edl over he

6 Invoices received every dVy.


By ANNA C. MURPHY.


A LINE of the latest spring novelties
here,
And never a pattern for you marked ',
too dear.
Our store 's in the garden: just give
us a call,
Our telephone leads through the hole in the wall.


II.
Here 's -iris, both plain and brocade, in tints rare,
And dahlia for petticoats gives a French air;
Our capes of silk poppy-the latest thing out,
And begonia parasols lead without doubt.



III.
For brides we have satins of lily-white
gleam;
For bridesmaids, rose tissues of pink, red,
or cream;
F or children we 've bargains in marigold
Stuff,
And crocus and tulip to stand treatment
"OUR CAPES OF SILK POPPY." rough.






A BUSINESS ANNOUNCEMENT.


We 've hats in sweet-pea of
the most stylish dent, l>-4,
And bonnets of pansies right
modestly bent;
In bluebells we 're closing out hoods "HATS OF SWEET PEA, OF
THE MOST STYLISH DENT."
low in price,
And our slippers of orchids just go in a trice.


SEach article 's packed
with a scent, free
SS of charge,
And customers served
with best goods small or large;
Right speedy delivery the firm guarantees,
By swift, trusty messenger-next passing breeze.


It 's best to come early before the goods rise;
You '11 find things more choice than we dare
advertise.
Our charges are only-some sweet words of
praise-
And we '11 credit you, too, to the end of your
days.


THE BARGAIN-COUNTER.












CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.

BY ALBERT STEARNS.


[Begun in the December number.]
CHAPTER VIII.

CHRIS was not in the least hurt by his fall;
he'was on his feet in a moment. Having re-
gained possession of the valise, he started for
home, filled with apprehension as to the fate
of the wonderful lamp.
He knew he had placed it in the bag -there
could be no mistake about that. Who had re-
moved it? Huldah, perhaps; she had coveted
it-indeed, she had claimed that it was her
property. As this idea occurred to Chris, a
cold perspiration started out on his brow, and
he broke into a run, which he continued until
he reached home.
He burst into the sitting-room, electrifying
his mother by the excited demand:'
"Where is it ? "
"Oh, Chris, what has happened now?" cried
Mrs. Wagstaff, dropping her sewing and spring-
ing to her feet. "Are you worse? Oh, I told
the doctor that you ought not to be allowed to
go alone! Did you miss the train? And see,
Chris! the peach preserves are running out of
the bag! You have broken one of the jars."
"I guess it got smashed when I jumped off
the train," said Chris; "but-"
"When you jumped off the train!" exclaimed
his mother, clasping her hands in distress. Oh,
Chris, what put it into your head to do that ? "
"I left something behind," stammered the
boy, conscious of- the awkwardness and absur-
dity of his position,-" something that I 'm very
particular about taking."
"Why, what was it ?"
"It was-that lamp that used to belong to
Professor Huxter," acknowledged Chris.
"Why, Chris!" cried the astonished and dis-
tressed lady,-" you did n't come back for that "
"Yes, I did, mother. Do you know where
it is ? I 'm sure I packed it last night."


"Why, yes, you did," was the reply; "but I
took it out this morning when I put in the
preserves; there was n't room for both."
Where is it now ?" asked the boy, breath-
lessly.
"I think I left it lying on your bed. But
why did you want to take the old thing ?"
"I must take it, mother, or stay at home
myself. I-you see, I want to show it to
Cousin Bob."
What interest do you suppose your .cousin
will have in that ugly old lamp?" almost
sobbed the agitated mother. "Oh, Chris,
what has been the matter with you lately?"
There's nothingthe matterwith me, mother,"
said Chris, so touched by her emotion that he
was strongly tempted to confess the whole
truth. "But wait a minute; I must go and see
if the lamp is all right."
As he ran through the hall, ,he met Doctor
Ingalls, who had entered in haste without the
ceremony of knocking.
"What are you back for?" asked the old
gentleman. "I saw you from my office win-
dow, and thought I 'd come over and see what
had happened to bring you back. Did you
miss the train?"
"Mother- will tell you all about it, sir," re-
sponded Chris, as he bounded up the stairs,
three steps at a time, feverishly anxious to assure
himself that the lamp had not been confiscated
by the envious Huldah.
The delicious sensation of relief that he ex-
perienced when he saw it lying on his bed quite
compensated for the mental suffering of the
past few minutes. He snatched it up eagerly,
fearful that it would disappear before his very
eyes; he felt almost like caressing it.
Having carefully wrapped it in an old news-
paper, he went down-stairs. As he neared the
sitting-room door, he heard Doctor Ingalls say:
"Humor him, ma'am, by all means. It would






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


be extremely unwise to irritate him and make
him more nervous."
"Let them think what they like," mused
Chris, with a sigh of resignation. They '11
change their tune before long."
And, feeling like a martyr, he entered the
room, his treasure under his arm.
"I should n't have advised you to come back
for your lamp, Chris, my lad," said the doctor,
with a gaiety that was plainly put on. "You
might have telegraphed, and your mother would
have sent it on by express."
Chris mumbled something about being too
anxious to bear the waiting.
"Well, you shall take it if you want to,
dear," said Mrs. Wagstaff. "I 'd no idea you
thought so much of it, or I should n't have
taken it out of the bag."
"Well, Mrs. Wagstaff," said the doctor;
"can we pack the young rascal's valise again,
and send him off by the ten thirty?"
"I don't know that I can ever do anything
with this bag," sighed Chris's mother, gazing
ruefully at the valise, which now lay open upon
the floor. "The jar of watermelon-rind and
one of the jars of peaches are broken, and there
are peaches all over that beautiful embroidered
shirt-front that I was so anxious to have your
Aunt Sabina see."
"Oh, I would n't fret about that," said the
doctor, who was decidedly nervous; "and, be-
sides, we must n't let Chris be worried about
such trifles. See," -as he removed the debris
from the valise,-" the bag is scarcely injured
at all. Huldah can repairwhat little damage
is done, in no time; you can repack the bag,
and Master Chris can be off at half-past ten,
just as if nothing had happened."
But don't you think you ought to go with
him you or somebody ? asked Mrs. Wag-
staff, with an apprehensive glance at Chris.
"No, indeed ?-by no means, ma'am," re-
turned the old gentleman, with a suspiciously
boisterous burst of merriment. "You don't
want to be bothered by an old fogy like me, do
you, Chris? Of course you don't. Ha! ha! ha!"
I guess I shall be able to get along by my-
self, sir," replied Chris, demurely.
Get along by yourself! Of course you will.
A bright, healthy-I mean, happy-lad like


you does n't want an old fogy doctor trotting
round after him, does he? Ha ha!"
Had ever a boy been placed in such a ridicu-
lously false position before ? Chris asked him-
self. He was strongly inclined to summon the
genie, and put an end to the mystery at once.
But he restrained the impulse; and presently
started once more for the station, this time in
Doctor Ingalls's buggy.
Have a first-rate time at your cousin's,
Chris," said the good old doctor, in parting
with the boy. "Get all the outdoor exercise
you can-the more the better. Let 's see!
the Dusenbury Base-ball Club is going to have
a match with the Lincolnville Club to-morrow.
Why, you '1 be just in time! The game is to
be played in Lincolnville, and you 're one of
the Dusenbury nine, if I 'm not mistaken."
"I was; I'm not now," said Chris, reddening.
The fact is, he had been." frozen out" of the
Dusenbury Club, a week before, for his phe-
nomenally bad playing-it having been gener-
ally conceded that most of the club's defeats
that season were due to his errors.
Doctor Ingalls saw that by this last remark
he had blundered, and was glad of an excuse to
take his. leave.
Here comes the train," he said, "and
'Nancy,' old as she is, gets frisky when she sees
the cars, so I '11 have to be off. Good-by! "
This time Chris's journey was accomplished
without interruption. At just eleven o'clock he
stepped out upon the platform at Lincolnville,
where he found his cousin awaiting him.
"I did n't expect to see you here, Bob,"
'Chris said, as he shook hands with the blue-
eyed, freckle-faced little lad who advanced to
meet him. "It 's lucky you happened to be
here. Going to the mill ?"
"Why, no," replied Bob, "I came on purpose
to meet you. We got both the telegrams."
"What telegrams? asked Chris.
"Why, your mother's. The first one said
you'd be here at eight-forty; and I was here to
meet you, but you did n't come. 'Most as soon
as I got home, the other one came. I 've got
that in my pocket."
Let me see it, will you, Bob ? "
"Here 't is." And Bob produced it. "It
says: Chris detained will take ten thirty be






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


careful of him will write.' Those telegraph fel-
lows don't pay much attention to punctuation,
do they, Chris? Well, how are you feeling?
Do you think you can walk as far as the
Baptist church ? I had to hitch Firefly' there,
'cause he can't stand the cars. You might lean
on my arm."
"What do I want to lean on your arm for ?"
said Chris, snappishly. "I can walk alone.
What did you bring the horse for, anyway?"
"Why, mother thought you 'd have to ride,"
replied Bob, with wide-open eyes. The first
telegram said you were awful sick. But you
look well enough."
I am well," said Chris.
"Your folks think you're sick, though."
"Yes, they do," admitted Chris, with a smile
in which there was much more of vexation than
mirth.
Again was the luckless youth fated to be mis-
understood. Bob's countenance was expanded
by a grin as he said:
Well, Chris, I calc'late I see through the
millstone now. So that 's your latest scheme
for getting out of going to school? If I hated
the Academy as much as you do, I 'd get my
father to send me to boarding-school. Why,
you could "
Oh, bother! exclaimed Chris, impatiently.
" Come along."
And he started for the Baptist church at so
rapid a pace that little Bob had to trot very en-
ergetically to keep up with him.
So his coming had been heralded by tele-
grams- smuggled out of the house, of course,
by Huldah and they would be followed by a
letter detailing all the symptoms of his imagined
illness! It seemed certain that his position
during his enforced visit to Lincolnville would
be quite as ridiculous as that he had occupied
at home during the past few days.
"You ain't mad at me, are you, Chris?"
asked Bob, timidly, as his companion began
unhitching Firefly, a dark frown on his brow.
Bob Green cherished the sincerest affection
and admiration for his cousin Chris; he firmly
believed that Chris was one of the most remark-
able boys the country had produced, and was
never tired of extolling his talents and acquire-
ments to whoever would listen. A word or a


smile of approval from his cousin meant more
to Bob than Chris ever guessed.
This constant tacit acknowledgment of an
inferiority that really did not exist was gratify.
ing to Chris, as such concessions, whether de-
served or not, are to most of us; and he usually
adopted a rather patronizing air toward his
cousin, quite willing to believe that Bob's esti-
mate of him was a correct one.
"Of course I 'm not mad," he said, with a
laugh. "What a funny fellow you are, Bob!
You always think a fellow 's down on you if he
only looks crooked at you."
"I thought maybe you did n't like what I
said about your not wanting to go to school,"
ventured Bob.
Oh, -that 's all right. Jump in, Bob. I '11
drive. G' long, Firefly! Now, then, Bobby,
what 's the news ? "
"Oh, nothing in particular," replied Bob.
"We had the sewing-circle at our house last
night, and I ate so much cake that I have n't
felt first-rate since. Guess that 's about all the
news there is, except "-and the boy's counte-
nance fell- that Ned Collins is sick."
"Who is Ned Collins?" asked Chris, with-
out much interest.
Don't you remember him ? big, tall fellow
with red hair. He 's the pitcher in our base-ball
club, and the match with the Dusenbury nine
has got to be called off because he 's sick."
Can't you get anybody else to pitch?"
asked Chris.
No; there 's not a fellow in town that can
take Ned's place. He 's a daisy pitcher, I tell
you; and there 's nothing for it but to put off
the game till he gets well."
"See here !" exclaimed Chris, in sudden ex-
citement, maybe there is something for it.
Have the Dusenbury fellows been notified? "
Not yet; we're going to send 'em word this
afternoon."
"Then why can't Itake Collins's place ?"
"You ? gasped Bob, turning a little pale at
the idea.
"Why, yes."
Well," Bob stammered, "I don't know what
the fellows will say. You see, you that is, I
- I mean we heard that "
"Oh, I know what you heard," interrupted


464






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


Chris, hotly. You heard that I was a
'hoodoo.'"
"Well, I I mean we -"
"Yes, that 's what you heard. You've been
told that the Dusenbury Club could n't win
a game as long as I was a member of it, and
that they got rid of me on that account.
That 's what they say, is n't it ?"
"Yes, it i?," Bob blurted
out despera tely.
I thought o," ji:l -
Chris. "Well. no. ',
you listen .B
to me, old


fellow. Put me
in as pitcher to, morr.:w,
and I '11 win the game for .."'SO Y 'RE JOHN WA
you as sure as you 're born." SAID MRS. STORMS.'
"Do you mean it?" stammered Bob, his
eyes as big and round as saucers.
Don't I generally mean what I say ?" de-
manded Chris rather haughtily.
"Y-yes, I think you do."
"You know I do. I want to get even with
those Dusenbury fellows, and I can do it by
pitching for your club to-morrow."
"I believe you can, Chris," exclaimed Bob,
persuaded by Chris's confidence.
Of course I can. I know what I am talk-
ing about, Bob.. Just get me appointed pitcher,
and-well, you '11 see something surprising."
"I '11 do all I can, Chris," said Bob, his face
flushed with enthusiasm; "and I guess' I can
manage it."
"I know you can manage it. Those Dusen-
VOL. XXII.-59.


bury fellows would n't let me pitch, Bob; I
might as well tell you the whole truth. All
I could do with them was to play right-field,
and I was n't even good enough for that, after
a few games. I had hard luck, Bob, that 's
all there is to it; but I know what is in me,
and you mark my words if I pitch to-mor-
row you won't be sorry you got
ni.- tie chance."
i kiiL. I sha'n't,
Chlrs," cried
Bob; "and
I 'm going
io do it.

















The fel-
lows must
SGSTAFF'S BOY, BE YEOU?. agree, that 's
(SEE NEXT PAGE.) all there is about it."
They hlad nowy reached. -their destination.
Mrs. Green stood in the doorway awaiting
them.
Chris's Aunt Sabina, his mother's sister, was
a tall, thin, severe lady, with a high-pitched
voice, an acid smile, and a deeply rooted dislike
and distrust of boys which three accomplish-
ments she had acquired during a twenty-years'
experience as district schoolma'am."
You don't look sick, Christopher," she said,
giving him a chilly hand. Is it your liver? Your
father's folks always were an unhealthy lot."
Chris replied that he did n't think there was
much the matter with him, and ran up-stairs
with Bob, who was eager to show Chris his new
fishing-tackle.
Oh, I forgot," said Chris, when the tackle


465






CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


had been inspected and admired. I 've got
some things for your mother; we 'd better take
them down to her." And he opened the bag
and took out two jars of peaches; the third
jar that Mrs. Wagstaff had desired to. send had
been left out to make room for the lamp.
"Who 's that for?" asked Bob, picking up
the lamp.
"It is n't for anybody," returned Chris;
"it's mine. Be careful not to rub it," he added
nervously.
Guess I sha'n't hurt it," said Bob. Most
of the plating is worn off, anyway."
"Give it to me." And Chris snatched it
rather rudely from his cousin's hands.
I 'm sure I don't want it," sniffed Bob, a
little offended. "What did you bring a thing
like that with you for ?"
"It 's valuable," said Chris. "It 's awful
old, and -and I should n't wonder if it was
worth a good deal."
"I don't believe a junkman would give you
two cents for it," replied Bob, coolly. "Where
did you get it ? "
Chris explained, then locked the lamp care-
fully in the valise, saying mysteriously:
"You 're likely to see more of it il the future.
That's no common lamp, Bob."
"It 's uncommonly ugly," said little Bob.
"I guess it won't worry me any if I never see
it again. Well, shall we go down-stairs ? "
Chris assented, and the two boys descended
to the lower floor, each carefully carrying a jar
of peaches.
Mrs. Green received the offering with an air
of dignity and condescension befitting her rank
of ex-schoolma'am, merely remarking:
"Your mother always was great on putting
up preserves. I 'm not saying it to blame her,
you understand. We can't all be alike, and it 's
a wise dispensation of Providence that we can't."
After this characteristic speech,-to which
Chris, with a remorseful glance at the peaches,
gurgled an inaudible response,- Mrs. Green
turned jerkily to a severe-looking old lady in
a stiff black silk dress and mitts, who sat near
the window glaring at Chris, and said:
"Aunt, this is Christopher Wagstaff. Chris-
topher, this is Mrs. Storms, Mr. Green's aunt,
who is spending a few days with us. She occu-


pies the spare room, so you and Robert will
have to sleep together."
So you're John Wagstaff's boy, be yeou ?"
said Mrs. Storms, surveying Chris as if in-
dignant at his presumption in daring to exist.
"Yeou don't look the least mite like him. I
remember yeour father years afore he ever
thought o' marryin' yeour mother. He was a
fine-lookin' man. Dew yeou go tew school?"
Chris meekly replied in the affirmative.
"What dew yeou study ? "
These were the first of the regular series
of questions- most school-boys know them by
heart which Chris had been obliged for years
to answer whenever his mother had a caller.
He knew what was coming, and with a stifled
sigh resigned himself to go through the list.
When Mrs. Storms's curiosity had been satis-
fied, and she had given her victim some good
advice,- offered with a dismal air of being
morally certain that he would never follow it,-
she dismissed him, and the two boys bolted
out.
"She 's an odd one, is n't she?" said Bob,
with a grimace. She does n't like me. She
said yesterday she was glad I was n't her boy,
and I told her that I was glad, too. That made
her mad, and .she complained to father; but he
only laughed, and that made her madder yet.
What makes some old women so ugly, do you
s'pose, Chris ?-and others so nice? But never
mind about her; let 's go down to the school.
We '11 be just in time to see thl fellows when
they come out, and maybe we can settle the
pitcher business right off."
They met the Lincolnville Club boys just
outside the High School grounds. The propo-
sition to install Chris as pitcher was received
with very little favor, for several members of
the club' were familiar with his record; but
Bob's eloquence, and Chris's earnest assurance
that he would certainly win the game for them
if they would appoint him, made an impression,
and a meeting of the members was appointed
for four o'clock. At that gathering Chris's ab-
solute confidence in his powers convinced the
boys, against their better judgment, that it
would be safe to give him the position he de-
sired, and by a unanimous vote it was decided
to do so.


466


[APRIL,







CHRIS AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.


When Bob delightedly announced this tri-
umph at the supper-table, Mrs. Storms stated
that base-ball had been unknown when she
was a girl, and that she had never heard of its
leading to any good; at which Mrs. Green
sighed, and Mr. Green, a timid, nervous little
man, who had been about to say something
cheerful, coughed abjectly and remarked that a
good deal could be said on that point.
All this did not depress the two boys, how-
ever. They had as jolly an evening as was pos-
sible under the same roof with the uncompro-
mising Mrs. Storms, and went to bed early.
For more than an hour they conversed in
whispers about the coming game. Bob's last
words before falling asleep were:
I like Ned Collins first-rate, but I 'm kind
of glad he 's sick. You '11 win the game, Chris;
you '11 win-you '11-"
Then a long sigh announced that the tired
boy had yielded to the kindly conqueror, Sleep.
It was not long before Chris, too, was snoring
i!i 3.': iu -h.rl i ,-id ci ',J ,:':' r .i-:.,irl i' .: ui jln-.nrr ,
-is it' l ie i,' r ,, b:. ,_-r ,_,, n.-r ':..f tiv w,)j ,Jertu!


lamp, and master of all the treasures of the
world.
Just how long he remained unconscious he
never knew, but he was presently awakened by
a loud noise, and opening his eyes he saw Bob
sitting up in bed staring at a horrible-looking
creature resembling a dragon, that stood. near
the window.
Well, what are your commands ? said the
apparition in a voice that made the window-
sashes rattle.
Chris instantly comprehended the situation.
He had placed the lamp under his pillow be-
fore going to bed. Either he or Bob had un-
consciously rubbed the lamp in his sleep, and
the genie had responded, this time appearing
in a new and certainly an awe-inspiring shape.
I 'm not speaking to you," added the genie,
turning his fiery eyes on Chris. "This young
man is my master, now."
(To be continued.)


467


2895.]












HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.


BY BRANDER MATTHEWS.


IN the first ten years of the nineteenth cen-
tury, there were born in New England five of
the foremost authors of America. Emerson and
Hawthorne were four and three years older
than Longfellow. Whittier and Holmes were
respectively ten months and two years younger.
As they grew up and began to write, and got
to know one another, these authors became
friends; and their friendship lasted with their
lives. One after another they all gained fame;
and although not the greatest of the five, per-
haps, Longfellow was always the most popular.
Not merely in the United States and Great
Britain, but in Canada and Australia and In-
dia, and wherever the English language is
spoken, there were readers in plenty for the
gentle, the manly, the beautiful verses of Long-
fellow.
His mother's father had been a general in
the Revolutionary army. His mother's brother
(after whom he was named) had been an offi-
cer in the American navy, losing his life in
Preble's attack on Tripoli. His father, once a
member of Congress, was one of the leading
lawyers of Portland. And it was in that pleas-
ant Maine city that Henry Wadsworth Long-
fellow was born, on February 27, 1807. There
he passed his childhood. There he got that
liking for the sea and for ships and for sailors
which was to give a salt-water savor to so
many of his ballads. There, as he grew to
boyhood, he browsed amid the books of his
father's ample library, feeling his love for litera-
ture steadily growing.
He was a school-boy of twelve when the first
numbers of Irving's "Sketch-Book' appeared,
and he read it "with ever-increasing wonder
and delight, spell-bound by its pleasant humor,
its melancholy tenderness, its atmosphere of
reverie." A few months before the "Sketch-
Book" began, Bryant had published his "Thana-
topsis," and others of his earlier poems followed


soon; so the school-boy in Portland came un-
der the influence of Bryant's poetry almost at
the same time he felt the charm of Irving's
prose. When he was only thirteen the young
Longfellow began to write verses of his own,
some of which were printed in the newspapers.
He was only fourteen when he passed the en-
trance examinations of Bowdoin College, where
he was to have Hawthorne as a classmate.
Long before his college course was over he had
made up his mind to become a man of letters.
In his last year at Bowdoin, being then eighteen,
he wrote to his father: "I most eagerly aspire
after future eminence in literature; my whole
soul burs ardently for it, and every earthly
thought centers in it." But here in America,
in 1825, no man could hope to support himself
by prose and verse. Fortunately just then a
professorship of modem languages was founded
in Bowdoin, and the position was offered to
Longfellow, with permission to spend several
years in Europe fitting himself for his duties.
He accepted eagerly; and his sojourn in France
and Spain, in Italy and Germany, made him
master of the four great European languages
with their marvelous literatures. He studied
hard and wrote little while he was away. At
last, in 1829, being then twenty-two, he re-
turned to his native land and settled down
to teach his fellow-countrymen what he had
learned abroad.
In 1831 he married Miss Mary Potter. In
addition to his work in the college, he found
time to write critical articles on foreign litera-
ture. He seems to have had but few poetic im-
pulses at this period; and his thoughts expressed
themselves more naturally in prose. The influ-
ence of Irving is visible in a series of rambling
travel-sketches, finally revised for publication as
a book in 1833, under the title Outre-Mer: a.
Pilgrimage beyond the Sea." It has not a lit-
tle of the charm of the Sketch-Book," with a







































































































469






HENRY' WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.


deeper poetic grace of its own and a more ro-
mantic touch. The year after this first venture
into literature, Longfellow was called to the
professorship of modern languages at Harvard
College. Again he went to Europe for further
study, being absent for a year and a half; but his
journey was saddened by the death of his wife.
Toward the end of 1836 he took up his
abode in Cambridge, where he was to reside
for the rest of his life--for forty-five years.
He was made to feel at home in the society
of the scholars who clustered about Harvard,
then almost the sole center of culture in the
country. His work for the college was not so
exacting that he had not time for literature.
The impulse to write poetry returned; yet the
next book he published was the prose Hy-
perion," which appeared in 1839, and which,
though it has little plot or action, may be called
a romance. The youthful and poetic hero, a
passionate pilgrim in Europe, was, more or
less, a reflection of Longfellow himself. A few
months later, in the same year, he published
his first volume of poetry-" Voices of the
Night," in which he reprinted certain of his
earlier verses, most of themwritten while he
was at Bowdoin. Some of these boyish verses
show the influence of Bryant, and others reveal
to us that the young poet had not yet looked
at life for himself, but still saw it through the
stained-glass windows of European tradition.
The same volume contained also some more
recent poems: "The Beleaguered City," and
The Reaper and the Flowers," and the
"Psalm of Life"-perhaps the first of his
poems to win a swift and abiding popularity.
These lyrics testified that Longfellow was be-
ginning to have a style of his own. As Haw-
thorne wrote to him, Nothing equal to them
was ever written in this world-this western
world, I mean."
Certainly no American author had yet written
any poem of the kind so good as the best of
those in Longfellow's volume of "Ballads,"
printed two years later. Better than any other
American poet Longfellow had mastered the
difficulties of the story in song; and he knew
how to combine the swiftness and the pictur-
esqueness the ballad requires. His ballads
have more of the oldtime magic, more of the


early simplicity, than those of any other modem
English author. Of its kind, there is nothing
better in the language than "The Skeleton in
Armor," with its splendid lyric swing; and "The
Village Blacksmith" and "The Wreck of the
' Hesperus'" are almost as good in their hum-
bler sphere. "Excelsior," in the same volume,
voices the noble aspirations of youth, and has
been taken to heart by thousands of boys and
girls.
He went to Europe again in 1842 for his
health; and on the voyage home he wrote
eight Poems on Slavery," which he published
soon after he landed. The next year he mar-
ried Miss Frances Appleton. About the same
time he published "The Spanish Student," a
play not intended for the theater, and lacking
the dramatic action the stage demands. Neither
the "Poems on Slavery" nor "The Spanish
Student" showed him at his best; but three
years after the latter he published The Belfry
of Bruges," in which were to be found more
than one of his finest poems, among them
"The Old Clock on the Stair" and "The
Arsenal at Springfield."
Longfellow had not been intimate at college
with his classmate Hawthorne, but he wrote a
cordial review of Hawthorne's "Twice-Told
Tales," and it was from Hawthorne that he
heard the pathetic legend of the two Acadian
lovers parted on their marriage morn, when the
people of the French province were shipped
away by the British authorities. "If you do not
want this incident for a tale, let me have it for
a poem," he said; and Hawthorne willingly
gave it up. This was the germ of "Evange-
line," which Longfellow published in 1847, and
which was accepted at once as his masterpiece.
It was the most beautiful and the most touch-
ing tale in verse yet told by any American
poet; and its charm was increased greatly by
the skill with which the natural scenery of
America, and our varying seasons, were used to
furnish a background before which the simple
figures of the story moved with fidelity to life.
Even the strange native names were invested
with magic.
In 1849 Longfellow published his last prose
book, Kavanagh," a dreamy tale which Haw-
thorne hailed as a true picture of life-" as true


470


[APRIL,






HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.


471


as those reflections of the trees and banks that
I used to see in the Concord; but refined to a
higher degree than they, as if the reflection
were itself reflected." The next year he gath-
ered into a volume called "The Seaside and
the Fireside" a score of short poems, including
"The Fire of Driftwood and "The Building
of the Ship." With the sea as a subject, Long-
fellow had always a double share of inspiration,
for he had retained in manhood his boyish love
for the deep, and his sympathetic understand-
ing of its mysteries.
As his poetic powers ripened and, won
prompt recognition, the daily labor of the class-
room became more irksome to him, and at last,
in I854, he resigned his professorship. But he
continued to reside in Cambridge, dwelling in
the Craigie House, which had been Washing-
ton's headquarters. Longfellow's father-in-law
had bought the house for him, and it is now
known as the Longfellow House. The culti-
vated society of the little town was very con-
genial, and he had many friends near in Boston
and in Concord.
Like all true artists, he was greatly interested
in his craft, and was fond of verse-making ex-
periments. He had a delicate ear, and he
felt the fitness of certain measures for certain
themes. For "Evangeline" he chose a form
of verse suggested by the -verse of the "Iliad"
and the ".Eneid"; and how well this suited his
subject can be seen by reading this description
of the song of the mocking-bird:
Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird,
wildest of singers,
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the
water,
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious
music,
That the whole air and the woods and the waves
seemed silent to listen.
Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then soaring
to madness
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied
Bacchantes.
Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful low
lamentation;
Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad
in derision,
As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the
tree-tops
Shakes down the tattling rain in a crystal shower on
the branches.


Now compare the same description as Longfel-
low himself rewrote it in the customary rhymed
couplets:
Upon a spray that overhung the stream,
The mocking-bird, awaking from his dream,
Poured such delirious music from his throat
That all the air seemed listening to his note.
Plaintive at first the song began, and slow;
It breathed of sadness, and of pain and woe;
Then, gathering all his notes, abroad he flung
The multitudinous music from his tongue,-
As, after showers, a sudden gust again
Upon the leaves shakes down the rattling rain.
In his next long poem Longfellow attempted
another new meter, borrowed from a Finnish
poet. He was always interested in the Ameri-
can Indian, and one of his earliest poems was
"The Burial of the-Minnesink," as one ofhislatest
was "The Revenge of Rain-in-the-face." He
now decided that the mythical legends of the
red men could be woven into a poem of which
an Indian should be the central figure. The
simple rhythm was exactly suited to the simple
story. Hiawatha was published in 1853, and
its instant success surpassed that of Evange-
line," which was its only rival among the longer
poems of American. authors upon a peculiarly
American subject. The easy verses sang them-
selves into the memory of all who read the
poem; and the descriptions of nature delighted
all who had kept their eyes open as they walked
through our American woods and fields.
Encouraged by the hearty welcome given
to these two American poems, Longfellow, in
1858, published a third, "The Courtship of
Miles Standish." In this he told no pathetic
tale of parted lovers, nor did he draw on the
quaint lore of the red men; he took his story
from the annals of his own ancestors, the sturdy
founders of New England. As it happened, he
himself (like his fellow-poet, Bryant) was a di-
rect descendant of John Alden and Priscilla,
the Puritan maiden, whose wooing he narrated.
The Courtship of Miles Standish is only less
popular than its predecessors, "Evangeline "
and "Hiawatha"; all three have been taken
to heart by the American people; all were
composed during the brightest years of the
poet's life, when his family were growing up
about him, when he was in the full possession
of his powers, and had already achieved fame.






HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.


LONGFELLOW IN LATER LIFE.


Suddenly an awful calamity befel him in the
death of his wife by accident. One sad day in
July, 1861, Mrs. Longfellow's light dress caught
fire from a match fallen on the floor. The
poet rushed to her aid; but despite all his ef-
forts, her injuries were fatal. She died the next
morning. Longfellow himself was so severely
burned that he was unable to be present at her
funeral.
When his wounds healed he was still broken
in spirit. To give himself occupation, and to
help him bear his sorrow, he translated into
English the "Divine Comedy" of Dante. He
found the labor restful and consoling; and in
time he completed his translation, which was
published in 1867. But while laboring on this
long task he had not given up original com-
position. In 1863 he had sent forth a volume


of poems containing the ringing lines on the
sinking of the Cumberland "; and in 1867
another collection in which was included his
touching poem on the burial of Hawthorne.
During these years also Longfellow was en-
gaged on a work exactly suited to his powers.
As a poet he was not primarily a thinker, like
Emerson, nor was he chiefly a musician in verse,
like Poe; he was above all a ballad-singer, a
teller of stories fit to be said or sung. Certain
of his friends were in the habit of spending
the summer at the old tavern of Sudbury, and
this suggested to the poet the framework of a
book. He has represented a group of guests
gathered about the fire, and beguiling the time
with story-telling. The first part of these
"Tales of a Wayside Inn" Was published in
1863, and two other parts followed in 1872


472


[APRIL,








and 1873. Among the tales are some of Long-
fellow's best ballads,-such as "Paul Revere's
Ride," "King Robert of Sicily," and "Scan-
derbeg."
In the spring of 1868 Longfellow went with
his daughters to Europe, and received every-
where an admiring welcome. In England both
Oxford and Cambridge conferred honorary de-
grees on him; and the Queen invited him to
dine with her at Windsor Castle. He spent
the winter in Rome, and came home in 1869.
After his return Longfellow took up and fin-
ished his longest work-" Christus, a Mystery,"
in which he finally combined the "Divine
Tragedy," the "Golden Legend," and the
New England Tragedies." His liking for the
dramatic form grew in his later years; and the
"Masque of Pandora," which he published in
1875, was actually set to music and sung on
the stage, but with little success. Afterward
he wrote another tragedy-"Judas Macca-
bmeus "; and after his death yet another, "Mi-
chael Angelo," was found almost finished in
his desk. There are fine passages in all these
poems in dialogue; but none of his attempts
at play-making were received with the popu-
lar approval which greeted his songs and his
sonnets.
Two of the longer of his later poems the
"Hanging of the Crane" (1874) and Kera-
mos" (1878)-showed that his hand had not
lost its cunning as the poet grew older; and
nothing he had written exceeded in sonorous
rhythm and in lofty sentiment the poem which
he read in 1875 at the fiftieth anniversary
of his graduation from Bowdoin, and which
he called "Morituri Salutamus" (" We who
are about to die salute you"). His poetic
gift continued to ripen and to bear mellow
fruit to the end of his life; and among the
lyrics in his final volumes-" Ultima Thule,"
published in 1880, and "In the Harbor," printed
after his death in 1882--were poems as tender
and as delicate in their strength as any he had
written in his youth: "The Chamber over the
Gate," for example, and the very last verses he
ever wrote -" The Bells of San Blas."
It was on March 15, 1882, when Longfellow


473


had just celebrated his seventy-fifth birthday,
that he penned the final lines of this final poem:
Out of the shadows of the night
The world rolls into light.
It is daybreak everywhere.

The eighteenth was a Saturday; and in the
afternoon there came four school-boys from
Boston, who had asked permission to visit him.
He showed them the view of the Charles from
the window of his study, and with his custom-
ary kindness he wrote his autograph in their
albums. That night he was seized with pain;
but would not disturb the household until
the morning. He lingered a week, and died on
Friday, March 24, 1882. He was buried the
next Sunday in Mount Auburn Cemetery,
"under the gently falling snow."
Longfellow is the most popular poet yet born
in America; and if we can measure popular
approval by the wide-spread sale of his succes-
sive volumes, he was probably the most popular
poet of the English language in this century.
Part of his popularity is due to his healthy
mind, his calm spirit, his vigorous sympathy.
His thought, though often deep, was never ob-
scure. His lyrics had always a grace that took
the ear with delight. They have a singing sim-
plicity, caught, it may, be, from the German
lyrists, such as Uhland or Heine. This sim-
plicity was the result of rare artistic repression;
it was not due to any poverty of intellect. Like
Victor Hugo in France, Longfellow in America
was the poet of childhood. And as he un-
derstood the children, so he also sympathized
with the poor, the toiling, the lowly-not look-
ing down on them, but glorifying their labor,
and declaring the necessity of it and the nobility
of work. He could make the barest life seem
radiant with beauty. He had acquired the
culture of all lands, but he understood also the
message of his own country. He thought that
the best that Europe could bring was none too
good for the plain people of America. He was
a true American, not only in his stalwart pa-
triotism in the hour of trial, but in his loving
acceptance of the doctrine of human equality,
and in his belief and trust in his fellow-man.


VOL. XXII.-60.


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.








THE TEE-HEE GIRL.


I KNOW a little maiden, but really, on my word,
You would sooner think this person was a Tee-
hee bird.
For no matter what you say,
If it 's sad or if it 's gay,
This silly maiden answers you with "Tee-
he-he,"
With a "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

She 's quite a pretty little girl, with bright and
smiling eyes,
And, in some things, I understand that she is
very wise.
But though she knows her letters,
No matter what her betters
Or her elders may remark to her, this little
maiden, she
Is sure to end her answer with a Tee-he-he,"
With a "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

If you tell her that your pocket is just stuffed
all full of toys,
If you tell her you 've a headache and she
must not make a noise,
If you tell her she 's your pride,
Or if you scold and chide,


It really is the same to her so far as I can see,
For her answer is a giggle with a Tee-he-he."
A "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

I have heard this little maiden say that she
was very tired;
I have heard her ask for lots of things she
very much desired;
But to everything she uttered,
Or mumbled forth or muttered,
She tacked that senseless giggle that is quite
devoid of glee-
That foolish little habit of a "Tee-he-he,"
A Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he "

I sometimes feel quite worried lest an elf of
whom I -'ve heard
Should come along and change this girl into
a Tee-hee bird;
When, in all sorts of weather,
With each curl turned to a feather,
She 'd have to sit the livelong day alone upon
a tree,
Just calling out to folks below her, "Tee-he-he!"
Her "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

Ella Wheeler Wilcox.


A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.

BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.

[Begun in the November number.] dirty quarter in which he had come so signally
CHAPTER XI. to grief, hoping to gain some clue that would
put him on the track of the marauders. When
THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD.
THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD. a boy's pride is hurt he will not rest until he
THE Emperor had been "fooled." For even can regain his self-esteem, and Philip felt that
while detectives and policemen were searching his duty lay in bringing the guilty ones to jus-
the old Tower of St. Jacques, Philip the page, tice. If he could do this without the help of
who had never been near it at all, was walking Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper, it would prove
calmly toward the Street of the Fight, with the that boys could be just as wide awake in the
recovered hat-buckle safe in his pocket, and in Tuileries as among the strange things that went
his mind an ardent desire somehow to repay on at La Force.
Pierre. So, no longer in his imperial livery of crimson
He had haunted the crooked streets of the and gold, but in the every-day dress of a Paris








THE TEE-HEE GIRL.


I KNOW a little maiden, but really, on my word,
You would sooner think this person was a Tee-
hee bird.
For no matter what you say,
If it 's sad or if it 's gay,
This silly maiden answers you with "Tee-
he-he,"
With a "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

She 's quite a pretty little girl, with bright and
smiling eyes,
And, in some things, I understand that she is
very wise.
But though she knows her letters,
No matter what her betters
Or her elders may remark to her, this little
maiden, she
Is sure to end her answer with a Tee-he-he,"
With a "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

If you tell her that your pocket is just stuffed
all full of toys,
If you tell her you 've a headache and she
must not make a noise,
If you tell her she 's your pride,
Or if you scold and chide,


It really is the same to her so far as I can see,
For her answer is a giggle with a Tee-he-he."
A "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

I have heard this little maiden say that she
was very tired;
I have heard her ask for lots of things she
very much desired;
But to everything she uttered,
Or mumbled forth or muttered,
She tacked that senseless giggle that is quite
devoid of glee-
That foolish little habit of a "Tee-he-he,"
A Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he "

I sometimes feel quite worried lest an elf of
whom I -'ve heard
Should come along and change this girl into
a Tee-hee bird;
When, in all sorts of weather,
With each curl turned to a feather,
She 'd have to sit the livelong day alone upon
a tree,
Just calling out to folks below her, "Tee-he-he!"
Her "Tee-he, tee-he, tee-he-he."

Ella Wheeler Wilcox.


A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.

BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.

[Begun in the November number.] dirty quarter in which he had come so signally
CHAPTER XI. to grief, hoping to gain some clue that would
put him on the track of the marauders. When
THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD.
THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD. a boy's pride is hurt he will not rest until he
THE Emperor had been "fooled." For even can regain his self-esteem, and Philip felt that
while detectives and policemen were searching his duty lay in bringing the guilty ones to jus-
the old Tower of St. Jacques, Philip the page, tice. If he could do this without the help of
who had never been near it at all, was walking Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper, it would prove
calmly toward the Street of the Fight, with the that boys could be just as wide awake in the
recovered hat-buckle safe in his pocket, and in Tuileries as among the strange things that went
his mind an ardent desire somehow to repay on at La Force.
Pierre. So, no longer in his imperial livery of crimson
He had haunted the crooked streets of the and gold, but in the every-day dress of a Paris






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


boy, Philip was seeking to put to good use his
old education of the street, when suddenly, in
the narrow and dirty Street of Jean Lantier,
near to the unsavory Court of the Miracles,
he ran plump against Pierre.
The amateur detectives looked keenly at each
other. Then the boy from La Force said to
the boy from the Tuileries: "What, it is you,
young Desnouettes? And doing what?"
"Hunting those fellows down, my Pierre,"
Philip replied. I don't like to let things go
unsettled.",
"And could you not trust to me, Monsieur the
Page ? You gain nothing by pushing things."
I can gain my lost standing at the palace,"
Philip responded.
But leave it to me, my boy," said Pierre.
"Such a hunt is more in my line than in yours.
And we are both ahead of time, we two;
but I have your sparklers."
"Good boy, Pierre!" criedjubilant Philip;
and added, with boyish assurance, "the Em-
peror will repay you. Give me the buckle."
But not in the street, stupid! Would you
lose it again ?" the young detective whispered.
"Come you with me-say, to Citizen Popon's.
You remember the place?"
Remember it ? Did he not, then ? It was
the dark wine-cellar in which Philip had over-
heard the plot against the Emperor, and from
which he reckoned the days of his good fortune.
So it came to pass that in the dingy wine-
cellar of Citizen Popon, rather than at the old
Tower of St. Jacques, the page recovered his
lost treasure, and said again and again: "My
faith! but you are a clever one-you Pierre.
However can I repay you ?"
"Wait until I ask you for payment, my
Philip," was Pierre's reply; and then and there
this successful young amateur detective flatly
refused any compensation for tracking the lost
gift of an Empress. In so doing lay his shrewd-
ness; for Pierre, though a good fellow, was
always looking out for Number One. "Philip
is a page of the palace, a favorite of the Em-'
peror, and bound to rise," he reasoned. If he
owes me return for a favor he will always bear
me in mind, and I may gain a new step by not
taking from him now. It is better to be gener-
ous than greedy, and in the end it pays better."


Thus sharply he reasoned; but he simply
said, "It's for old friendship's sake, my boy."
And so, after a long talk the boys separated.
Pierre went back to his post at the prison of La
Force; Philip, hugging close his rescued trea-
sure, sought, not the imperial palace, but the
house in the quiet Street of the Fight. There
Mademoiselle met him.
"Oh, Philip!" she cried. "And it is you?
Tell me quickly! What happened? How did
they save you ? "
What happened ? Philip queried. "' Save'
me? Where ?"
"Why, at the Tower of St. Jacques," Made-
moiselle replied impatiently. I found it all
out. What happened ? "
"But I do not understand you, Mademoi-
selle," said puzzled Philip. I have not been.
to the Tower of St. Jacques."
"No ? Mademoiselle cried excitedly. "And
you were not set upon by brigands ? "
"Why, no," said the boy. "You see, I met
Pierre in the Street of Jean Lantier, before I
had reached the tower. And, see, here is the
buckle. I have it safe once more."
But, mercy! what must the Emperor
think ?" Mademoiselle almost wailed, scarce
noticing the brilliant that had made all the
bother. "He will say I misled him. Dear me,
dear me! Now it is I that am in the wrong,
and who will right me ? "
Much perplexed, Philip asked for an expla-
nation, and Mademoiselle told her story, and
how she had petitioned the Emperor.
"But you saved my life, Mademoiselle," ex-
claimed the grateful Philip, "even if the danger
did not come to me. For, had I not met
Pierre before the time appointed, I should have
been at the Tower at sunset. Mademoiselle, I
thank you"; and, true to the courtliness which
had become a part of his daily training, Philip
bent over the girl's hand, and kissed it in
knightly fashion.
It is not for me to remain here," he said.
"I must hasten to the palace and explain it all.
Trust me, Mademoiselle; I will set you right
with the Emperor."
Then Citizen Daunou, who had entered the
room while Mademoiselle was telling her story,
said: I may be an owl, Mademoiselle, though






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


why the Emperor should, say so passes my
knowledge. But this explains certain things.
Uncle Fauriel and I lingered late over our re-
searches in the tower; and-would you believe
it?-Uncle Fauriel was very nearly arrested by
two officials from the Ministry of Police. Uncle
Fauriel is so rabid a republican, you know, that
he is ever under suspicion; and but for my be-
ing recognized by the sergeant of police who
came from the market with his men, we should,
I think, have been com-
pelled to accompany
the detectives as sus-
picious persons. My
faith, though!_ Is not
that the rarest joke?
Uncle Fauriel and I
were, I now see, very
nearly under arrest as
the intending assassins
of my friend Monsieur
the Page, under the
special protection of the
Emperor. Away, Sir
Page! It is not safe
for you to linger here.
Behold your assassin !"
And Citizen Daunou
laughed so heartily that .
even Mademoiselle's
perplexed face broke
into smiles, and Philip
appreciated the joke
quite as fully. But, all
the same, it did not free
him from a little trepi-
dation as, on his way
back to the palace, he
thought over the affairs
of the day, and pre-
pared himself for a
scene with the Emperor.
The "scene," how-
ever, was but a mild
one. Napoleon had far more important things
on his mind than the trials of pages and the woes
of over-zealous maidens. Philip, too, had the
advantage of being first on the ground. He
had made his explanations before the report
came from the police; and the Emperor, being


spared the confusion that this report might
otherwise have created,. held the key to the
situation, and, happily, looked on it all as a
good joke.
"But you were never cut out for a detective,
young Desnouettes," he said. "Leave that to
others, and do, rather, the duties that are
nearest you. As for the girl, she is a bright
little creature and a wise one. She meant well.
It was only you that blundered into safety


PHILIP'S GRATITUDE.


without knowing, and so spoiled her excellent
little drama. That boy Pierre seems to have
been the cleverest one of the lot. I must-
see here, you boy; do you know anything of
your father ?"
Startled at this sudden change of subject,


476


[APRIL,







A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


477


Philip looked surprised, but said, "Nothing
more than you do, Sire. I have told you all I
know of him.."
Nor of your family ? "
Nothing, Sire."
"So! Well-let me see-that boy Pierre,
some day I may find use for his cleverness."
And Philip was dismissed, relieved but
puzzled.
But so many other things were afoot in that
busy summer of 1811 that a boy's concerns
were speedily forgotten, and even the boy him-
self was so full of crowding duties as to have
little time for queries and conjectures.
The month of June was one round of fes-
tivity, ceremonial, and display. It was the
baptismal month of the baby King of Rome.
Napoleon the Emperor was at the height
of his power. Kings were his' vassals, and con-
quered nations were his domains. All of Eu-
rope, save only Russia and the British Isles, was
subject or ally to France. The little man in
the green uniform was the foremost man of all
the world.
He had won his eminence by the force of his
genius, the strength of his will, the brilliancy of
his successes, and by hard work.. For in all
his vast domain there was no more tireless
worker than the Emperor Napoleon the First.
No one appreciated this more than Philip the
page. Many a time, far into the night, had he
waited the imperial commands, or run upon the
imperial errands, until tired legs refused to do
their duty, and the curly head dropped, dead
with sleep, upon the wearied arm.
The month of June in the year 1811 seemed
the crowning point of all the magnificence of
the First Empire. It was a month of display-
one continued fete-in honor of the little King's
baptism.
Philip had been one of the retinue that had
escorted the imperial family from St. Cloud to
the Tuileries on the afternoon of the sixth of
June. With the other pages he had hung
upon the backboard of the imperial coach, as
on the next day--Sunday, the seventh of June-
it was driven through a living lane of glittering
helmets and nodding plumes, where a double
row of the troops of the line and of the Imperial
Guard stretched from the palace of the Tui-


leries to the cathedral of Notre Dame. Un-
der the garlanded portal and into the brilliantly
lighted church he had passed as one of the
glittering procession. And there, in sight of a
throng of princes and peers, of great officials of
the crown, of cardinals and bishops and arch-
bishops, of the senate, the court, and the mayors
of the great cities of the Empire, regal in a coat
of silver tissue embroidered with ermine, and
with its train upheld by a marshal of the Em-
pire; with his mother, the Empress, walking
in imperial state under one gorgeous canopy,
and his famous father, the Emperor, under
another gorgeous canopy; with a princess bear-
ing his baptismal candle, a princess holding his
chrism-cloth, a countess carrying his salt-cellar,
and all about him princes and dukes, chamber-
lains and marshals, grand "eagles," grand equer-
ries, grand masters, and grand -lots of other
things! With ushers and heralds and orderlies
and pages; supported by his nurses and gov-
ernesses; with an emperor for a godfather and
a queen for a godmother,- this one little baby,
Francis Charles Joseph Napoleon Bonaparte,
King of Rome and heir to France, was pre-
sented for baptism at the high altar of the grand
old church which had been the scene of so
many great and marvelous and curious cere-
monials, but never of one more magnificent
than this.
So the baby was baptized. Then, in sight of
the whole assembly, while the organ pealed out
the Jubilate, and the First Herald at Arms,
standing in the choir, cried out, "Long live
the King of Rome!" the baby's proud father
held his son aloft where all might see His
Little Magnificence. Then all the crowded
church, all the packed square without, and
all the listening city raised a mighty shout:
"Long live the King of Rome! Long live the
Emperor!" -
Do you imagine that Philip would have
missed that? Not for the world! His voice
was hoarse from shouting; his face was flushed
with enthusiasm. He was proud of his posi-
tion, proud that he was alive, that he was a
Frenchman, that he was a boy of Paris, that
he was a page of the Emperor!
Nor would he willingly have missed the
great entertainment at the City Hall, where,


1895.] '






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


after the baptismal ceremony, the Emperor
dined in public, with his crown upon his head,
the Empress by his side, kings and queens on
his right and left, for all the world like that
great Emperor of old Charlemagne whose
state he patterned after, and whose title he
assumed. For, you see, the Emperor Napo-
leon was always dramatic, always startling,
always effective, in whatever he undertook.
Whether he kidnapped a king, or stole a pope,
or "absorbed" a kingdom, or won a battle, or
gave a ball, he did it so splendidly that even
his enemies marveled, and all the world
wondered at the audacity of this little man
who had carved his way from nothing to a
throne, and had filled the world with his name.
To this baptismal ceremony and banquet
succeeded days and days of magnificence.
And Philip was able to make the claim of the
old Roman: "All of which I saw, and part of
which I was." For, as page of the palace, he
was on duty at almost every "high function."
There were banquets and balls, shows and
processions, festivals and fetes, street parades
and water parades, tournaments, fireworks, and
balloon ascensions, and everything that busy
brains could devise or lavish expenditure could
procure to please the people, show the gran-
deur of the Empire, and do honor to the one
who, probably, took the least interest in it all-
a pretty little baby boy, only three months old.
At the Tuileries, at St. Cloud, at stately
Versailles, and at beautiful Rambouillet the
summer passed in pleasure and parade and a
blaze of glory; for these were the palmy days
of the Empire, the climax of Napoleon's power.
And one day in the Place of the Carrousel, the
great open square in front of the palace of the
Tuileries, where the Emperor held his weekly
reviews of the Imperial Guard, there came a
new surprise.
It was a beautiful August day. The splen-
did palace, outlined against the clear Parisian
sky, made a grand background for the mass
of moving color, as battalion after battalion
wheeled and circled and charged and manoeu-
vered. Cavalry and infantry marched and
countermarched, plumes nodded, bayonets
flashed, helmets glittered, bands played, dis-
play was everywhere.


Then, while the regiments stood at rest, the
gay strains of other military bands were heard,
and into the square; beneath the triumphal
arch crowned by the great bronze horses of
St. Mark's, Venice, came rank upon rank, in
soldierly array, spick and span in their new
uniforms of green and gold, eight thousand
little foot-soldiers, not one of whom was yet in
his teens.
As steadily as veterans, as solid as the Old
Guard itself, every boy doing his best, every
eye "front," every hand shouldering a toy
musket or carrying a dwarf sword, the Lilli-
putian battalions halted and faced the smiling
veterans.
The Emperor appeared. The boys went
through their maneuvers with precision and
ease. And when the review was over the Em-
peror, standing midway between his veterans
and his boy brigade, pointed to the little
soldiers, and said to his grenadiers:
"Soldiers of my Guard, behold your children!
These are the Pupils of the Guard, the sons of
those who have fallen in battle for France, the
defenders upon whose valor the future of my
empire must rest. To them I confide the
guarding of.my son, as I have confided myself
to you. For them I require, from you, friend-
ship and protection."
Then facing the boyish brigade, he said:
"My children, in attaching you to my Guard I
give you a difficult duty. But I shall trust in
you. I know that some day it will be said
of you: 'These children are worthy of their
fathers.' Pupils of the Guard! from this day
you are in the service of the King of Rome."
"Long live the Emperor!" From the
Guard and its "Pupils," and from the thou-
sands who witnessed the double review, the
mighty shout went up. Philip's voice helped
to swell the shout. He had regarded the
little Pupils of the Guard with all that patron-
age of superiority that fifteen accords to ten.
But he was enthusiastic none the less, and led
off in a fresh hail of "Long live the King of
Rome! Long live the Pupils of the Guard!"
In the midst of this outburst his shout
changed suddenly to a cry of recognition and
joy. For, in the little knot of non-commis-
sioned officers who had accompanied the Pu-


478


[APRIL,






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


pils of the Guard, and whom he supposed to be
their preceptors, he caught a glimpse of a
familiar face. That wooden leg, that grizzled
mustache, that stalwart figure, that proudly
displayed cross of the Legion of Honor, that air
of confidence and self-recognized ability-it
could be none other In a moment Philip had
rushed across the parade, and flung himself
upon the unresisting veteran.
The boy's eyes had not played him false.
It was old Corporal Peyrolles Peyrolles the
wooden-legged- Peyrolles of St. Cyr!


CHAPTER XII.
HOW PHILIP BAITED THE RUSSIAN BEAR.
"PEYROLLES! Dear old Peyrolles! Where,
then, do you come from ?" Philip cried, hug-
ging the veteran in a frenzy of delight.
"Why, your Serene Mightiness, if your Im-
perial Magnificence will but grant me space to
breathe," Corporal Peyrolles replied, struggling
to salute his captor, "I would say in answer,
from the School of the Pupils of the Guard
at Vincennes, most Noble Nobility."
"And when did you leave St. Cyr ?"
"With your Excellency's permission, I would
answer, your Serene Mightiness, just two months
ago."
But whatever is the matter with you,' high-
mightinessing' me like that, you Peyrolles?"
Philip cried, casting a laughing look of puz-
zled inquiry upon the veteran's stolid face.
"Why-don't you know me?-me-Cadet
Desnouettes of St. Cyr?"
"So! Is it young Desnouettes? exclaimed
Peyrolles, catching the boy by the arm. "Why,
to be sure-the very same boy-or, pardon
me -your Imperial Excellency. And what may
you be, all so fine in your crimson and gold ?"
"Why, what should I be?" Philip replied.
"A page of the palace, of course."
"What! over a year at court, and only a
page yet?" Peyrolles exclaimed. "You are
slow, you boy. By this time, as titles are go-
ing yonder, you should be a Hereditary Grand
Duke, or a First Grand Marshal of the Blood
Royal, at the very least."
You dear old grumbler! cried Philip, giv-
ing the veteran another hug. And then he


479


laughed; for now he saw through Peyrolles's
perplexing play with imperial adjectives. The
old fellow did not approve of this flow of titles
and honors that pervaded the court of the Em-
peror. Corporal Peyrolles was jealous.
"Why, look you, young Desnouettes," he
said; "you can't throw a stone in Paris, any-
where, without hitting a title. And what were
they all? No better than Peyrolles once.
Murat a king! I marched with him at Arcola.
Ney a prince! I fought beside him at Ma-
rengo. Bessieres a duke! I saved his life at
Austerlitz. Duroc a grand something or other
at the palace! I helped him through the sand
at the Pyramids. Why, even old Clubfoot,
whom we drove out of the republic for an
emigrant, is a prince, if you please, and weaves
his web about the Emperor."
The old corporal grew so heated over this
title-giving to those whom he had known as
"nobodies" and subalterns, that Philip was
forced to stop the tirade for fear of listeners.
But Peyrolles was right, none the less. The
craze for titles and position was undermining
the Empire. The Corsican lieutenant who had
been the friend of the Robespierres, the gen-
eral of the Revolution who had made the Re-
public triumphant over the kings of Europe,
had now become as great a royalist as Louis
XVI., as firm an upholder of the divine right
of kings as his father-in-law, the Emperor of
Austria. He was welcoming back the emigrant
nobles who had been exiled because they were
royalists, and was scattering titles among his
supporters like prizes at a rifle-match.
But though an old soldier of the Republic like
.Peyrolles might grumble, and an old revolu-
tionist like Uncle Fauriel might growl, the at-
tach6 of an imperial court like Philip,-a boy
who adored his Emperor, and had place and
perquisites at the court,- could look neither
beneath nor beyond the daily life of which he
was a part. "Who knows ?" he said; "I may
be a prince some day. There is a chance for
every boy now, in France." An ambitious lad,
even if he did stop to think of things, would be a
believer in honors and titles and rewards of merit.
But Philip was delighted to be so near his
dear old Peyrolles once more, and they talked
of old times until the call to duty drew the


1895.]1






.A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


veteran to his barracks and the page to his
palace.
This very day of the review of the Pupils
of the Guard, there was a grand reception at
the Tuileries. The Emperor received.
The splendid palace was thronged with
guests representatives of every nation in Eu-
rope-vassal kings, allied princes, titled am-
bassadors, peers and marshals of France, high
officials, famous citizens, dashing soldiers, grand
ladies, ushers and pages.
Among the pages was Philip. With a half-
dozen of his brothers in livery, he stood by the
big door that opened into the splendid Saloon
of the Marshals. Here they awaited the arrival
of the Emperor, who was making a tour of the
palace and greeting or conversing with the
great ones who were present at the reception.
The pages, boy-like, were discussing every-
thing- criticizing this person, making fun of
that, and getting. food for talk in whatever came
uppermost, from the toilets of the ladies and
the awkwardness of the "provincials" to the
last hotly contested game of "bars," the
greased-pole climbing at the public sports in
the Field of Mars, and the foreign policy of
the Emperor; for in all ages boys have been
the same making "talk" out of everything.
In all such boy-talks Philip always stood as
the champion of the Emperor. He was at
once apologist and applauder; but, with him,
approval was real. Boys who have faith in
their heroes are the most uncompromising of
partizans. Whether Napoleon trod on the toes
of Prussia, or snapped his fingers in the face of
England, Philip was ready to approve without
thinking why, and to shout: Serves 'em right !
Long live the Emperor! "
Especially was this true of our page when,
cautiously, systematically, and determinedly,
the Emperor of the French began to, prepare
the field for a great hunting of the Russian
Bear. And, on the day of the reception, talk
of this now historic hunt was rife at Paris, for
the relations between Emperor and Czar were
daily growing more and more strained.
So, as the pages grouped themselves about
the doorway of the great Saloon of the Mar-
shals, the conversation gradually drifted toward
the subject that was uppermost, whereupon one


of the boys had boldly declared that when Eng-
land was whipped out of Spain,- as of course
England would be,- that would end the war.
For Prince Talleyrand, he said, wanted peace.
"Pouf! Old Clubfoot! What has he got
to say about it?" Philip exclaimed indignantly.
Careful, young Desnouettes," one of the
pages-whispered, with a lnot very gentle nudge.
" Clubfoot's around somewhere. Not so loud,
you, or your ears may smart."
"Well, it makes me mad, that!" Philip de-
clared, but with lowered voice. Much Talley-
rand knows about it! He 's got his discharge
long ago. He 's nothing to say. The Em-
peror, he 's the one to decide; and the Em-
peror, I tell you, is bound to take it out of
Russia. The Czar has been wild ever since he
had to give in that day on the raft at Tilsit."
"That may be," the peace page rejoined;
"but he 's not mad enough to fight. .If he
were, he would have pitched into us when the
Emperor said, 'No, thank you,' at the time
Russia offered him the princess for a wife. The
Czar won't fight. Catch-a-Sneezy said so."
So ? What does Catch-a-Sneezy know about
it ?" Philip exclaimed, a bit contemptuously.
"He is but a spy, anyhow."
"No, sir; he is a fine man, Catch-a-Sneezy
is," declared Victor. "He gave me two na-
poleons for slipping him into the Emperor's
study one day."
"Yes; to listen and to spy," Philip retorted,
so forgetful as to raise his voice again. "I am
surprised at you, you Victor. I tell you, Catch-
a-Sneezy.was a spy."
"And who, now, might this Catch-a-Sneezy
be, young sir ?"
The query came from a big, bejeweled man
close at Philip's elbow. The. pages caught
their breath, and nudged each pther excitedly.
"Young Desnouettes has got himself into a
pretty mess," they whispered. The questioner
was Prince Kourakin, the Russian ambassador.
Philip looked around, a trifle dismayed. But,
with true boyish heedlessness, he went on:
"Why-that 's what we call Monsieur de
Sneezy-Zernzy- Czernicheff, your highness,"
Philip explained, struggling with the unpro-
nounceable name of the Russian who, it was
claimed, had played the spy in Paris.


480





















[ .;''

c-; r


.' ciN^ ^.3


jI.
---- f \
r-'\j r


F' Is*


NAPOLEON REVIEWS THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD.


VOL. XX1I.-6I.


I~ ~


I


.. ....! zT --






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


"And you dare to call the aide-de-camp of
the Czar a spy, you boy!" the Ambassador said
indignantly. Have a care; have a care, young
sir! Such a word spoken at the court of the Czar
would cost even you-boy though you are-
your liberty and cause you to feel the whip."


What if he is ?" cried heedless Philip, while
the other pages felt alternate pride and terror
at the audacity of their colleague. Great as
he is, our Little Corporal could eat him at a
mouthful."
The quick temper of the Russian, irritated at


PHILIP AND THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR.


But this is France, and not Russia, your
highness," Philip replied with spirit. Our Em-
peror does not knout his boys as Old Alec does."
Old Alec? Rascally one! But this passes
a jest," cried the angry Ambassador. Be care-
ful, young Insolence! You speak of the Czar
of all the Russias. He is too great a man for a
graceless boy like you to nickname thus."


the thought of being thus badgered by a boy,
and for the instant forgetful of his dignity and
surroundings,-stirred, too, by other things that
had come to his ears that day,-flamed up at
this boyish impudence. The words had scarce
passed the page's lips when the hand of the
Ambassador flew out, and a sudden and sting-
ing cuff fell upon the boy's ear.


[APRIL,






A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE.


Then Philip lost his temper. He even forgot
for an instant to be a gentleman the thing he
most prided himself upon.
Ah, Cossack! he cried. But that is like
you Russians-to strike those not your size. This
is not Poland, sir; this is France. And you, Mon-
sieur the Ambassador-you are a coward!"
The pages stood ready to back up their
comrade, and in a ring about the minister
glared at him like angry dogs holding a bear at
bay. But the Ambassador had recovered him-
self, and with a scornful laugh turned on his
heel and walked away to join his brother am-
bassadors. At that instant the voice of the
usher announced, The Emperor! "-and there,
in the doorway, while the pages lined up on
both sides to honor the entrance of their mas-
ter, stood the little man in the chasseur's uni-
form- the Emperor Napoleon. Philip hoped
his indiscretion had escaped the imperial ey'e;
for few indeed, save those concerned in it, had
noticed the serio-comic drama. With an ear
yet tingling and a face yet hot with the flush of
anger, but feeling, nevertheless, that he had the
best of the encounter, Philip bowed low among
the other pages as the Emperor passed by them.
And.Victor whispered, My faith! but that
was a narrow escape for you, my Philip. I only
wish it were over. You '11 catch it yet, I fear. The
bear is sharpening his teeth for you, and he bites.
If he growls at the Emperor, though -whoop!"
He must have growled a bit; for ere long
the boys heard, as did every one else in the
room, the voice of Napoleon rising loud and
cuttingly, while the Russian statesman, con-
cealing his discomfiture under a smile, took the
scolding with scarce a word of protest.
That scolding is now historic. It grew into a


harangue, and for full ten minutes it continued
unchecked. Philip indeed had baited the Rus-
sian Bear, and now Sir Bruin stood at bay be-
fore the chief of the pack. Over his back
Napoleon barked at Russia and snapped at the
Czar. "Choose," he said, "between the Eng-
lish and me. I alone can help you. If you
threaten, I can fight; and where then will you
be? You Russians are like a hare shot in
the back: it gets up on its hind legs to look
around, and ouf! another shot takes the fool
in its head." And so on, and so on, while
Philip hugged himself with glee, and the other
pages looked and listened with astonishment.
Prince Kourakin, when the Emperor's breath
had spent itself in words, withdrew in haste.
"Whew, I am suffocated!" Philip heard the
Russian declare to his colleague the Ambas-
sador of Prussia. "I must get into the air. It is
very hot in the audience-room of the Emperor."
As he passed he glared at Philip, and the
page, true to the boy-love for teasing, could not
restrain a passing shot: It is not Poland, it is
France, your highness," he said. "But, now
- who gets the knout?"
The next instant, however, he regretted his
hasty speech. He knew he had violated all the
proprieties of court etiquette and dignity. And
this, he knew, the Emperor never overlooked.
A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he recog-
nized the voice of Malvirade, the First Page.
"To the Emperor, young Desnouettes. He
calls you. Come-quickly, quickly; he is in
haste."
And Philip, bracing himself for a "scene,"
faced about and went boldly forward "to take
his medicine like a little man." For Philip,
though heedless often, was never a coward.


(To be continued. )


T)ak


483











BUTTERFLY PETS.


BY LOUISE E. HOGAN.


DINNER FOR TWO.


IT may seem very strange to hear of butter-
flies as pets, but there is now, in New York city,
a little boy who had as pets, during September
and November of last year, four Archippus
butterflies, and the illustrations to this article
were taken from these real models.
The Archippus is one of our largest butter-
flies, measuring from three to four and a half
inches across its outspread wings. It appears
in the latter part of July, and lives all through
September, and sometimes into the early part
of October, if the weather is mild and warm.
It loves the sunshine, and has a very leisurely
and graceful manner of flying about, from
flower to flower, as if it were enjoying every-
thing to the utmost. Helen Conant tells us
truly in her charming little book, "The Butter-
fly Hunters," that there is no butterfly that
takes such strong hold of one's fingers with its
feet as the Archippus. It is not so bright in
color as some others, but the wings are tawny
orange, and are beautifully bordered with black
dotted with white. Fine black veins cross the
wings, and on the tip of the fore wing are sev-


eral yellow and white spots extending up on
the front border. The under sides of the wings
are a deep yellow, bordered and veined like
the upper sides. The head and the thorax, or
chest part, are black, spotted with white, and
the slender feelers or antenna end in a long
knob.
The little boy referred to above, whose name
is Jack, was out in the fields near Bayonne,
New Jersey, one sunny morning in September,
playing'with his usual companion, when they
happened to meet two small butterfly hunt-
ers who had caught three very large Archippus
butterflies.
Jack was charmed with the pretty creatures,
and stood quite still, gazing eager-eyed and
wistful. The older boy suggested that the boy
who held the butterflies should give one to
Jack, which was instantly and kindly done, and
Jack heartily thanked them and took home his
prize very carefully.
The idea then occurred to me to find out
how long the butterfly would live, if tenderly
cared for; as recently a writer, in describing


;J~I






BUTTERFLY PETS.
some captured butterflies, spoke of their short butterflies
life, saying that from ten to fourteen days was they were
the average. before th
Jack's first butterfly escaped, after a week,
through an unnoticed crack in the window; but
it had been taught to feed quietly from his in-
ger, a glass, or a flower. He said at on :e.
"We must go to look for another, or ....
I will have to cry!" You must
remember that he was only four
years old.
He went into the fields again,
and though he saw several small
butterflies, found no Archippus, and
met no boy-hunters. For a week the lo.s
of his pet was mourned, and then a beauti-
ful specimen was spied in a neighbL:ir;i
yard. Jack watched it until it diszp.l:,r:.:ir-
and then begged his mother to go with 'in, ,
search of it. On the way he interested -.'. cral
small boys in his quest, and they found the but- -ili, :
terfly, secured it, and gave it to Jack, who closing tl
brought it home in triumph. At home Jack wings, an
found awaiting his return another Archippus, the head,
which had been caught by a boy who had the same
heard Jack wanted one. Evidently all the Archippu


THE BUTTERFLY'S BATH.
boys in the neighborhood were interested, for
the next day still another was brought. It
took only one day to teach one of the new


485
to eat the sugar-syrup with which
fed. The others waited several days
ey seemed to understand what was
being done.
In teaching them it
1i li Lecssary
to,: hl: ndle
tlm n very
g gently,


L I r* i END
he ARCHIPPUS.
d holding the butterfly by them near
releasing the feet very carefully at
time with the other hand, as the
s clings very tenaciously, the feet hav-


ing two fork-like claws which take a
very strong hold of any rough
surface. Jack's butterflies slept
on the lace curtains by the
windows, and therefore,
when lifted, had to
be moved very cau-
tiously. By putting a
finger in front of the
butterfly's antenna, and
touching one of them
very lightly (as if to let
the little creature know
the finger was there), the
butterfly would in al-
most every instance
creep upon the ex-
tended finger, where,
after one or two trials, it would
sit contentedly, sipping its sugar-
water.
One of Jack's pets used his front feet in a
very impatient way, kicking out right and left,
as if hunting for the finger which was usually






BUTTERFLY PETS.


there when he was ready to pay attention to to dry the under side of his body, which had
cleaning his wings, body, and feet, after a meal touched the water; then he would close his
of thick' and sticky sugar-water. His washing wings, and take his usual afternoon nap. Before
was done very daintily, in a basin or bowl in eating he was very active, fluttering about in the
sunshine, up and down the curtains, and about
the room, and occasionally resting upon Jack's
shoulder or hand, or on the floor, where he
would bask in the sunshine with wide-open wings.
S.Sometimes Jack would find him on the under
side of the head of the sofa.
This butterfly's companion lived with him,
feeding from the same glass and sleeping near
him, in the same closet or on the curtain, for
nearly three weeks, when, through inadvertence,
the poor creature was left in a room for a mo-
ment where the gas had been lighted, and he
sealed his own doom by flying through the
blaze. He fell to the floor, apparently unhurt,
but we soon learned that he could not live.
l' The third butterfly brought to Jack escaped
through the same space between the windows
that gave liberty to the first one. They would
flutter up and down the windows in the sun-
shine, except when resting upon the curtains,
and in this way two of them got between the
sashes-the lower one having been raised to
give room for the window-screen -and escaped.
A week after the first three were brought, an-
THE TRFL O THE CURTAIN. other boy came with a fine Archippus, which
which there was about a gill of water. At the eventually broke its wing. Jack brought his
same time he alternately projected and drew pets to New York, in a covered and well-ven-
in the trunk-like proboscis with which he fed tilated box, where, a compassionate druggist
which is altogether a remarkable and very etherized the broken-winged butterfly. Jack
interesting feature. When not in use, this or- feared it was suffering, and was glad to see it
gan is coiled up very closely, and when the die. It was soon after this that the other but-
butterfly is asleep the coil is so small that it terfly flew through the gas, and Jack then had
can scarcely be seen. When feeding or taking only one, and the season was too far advanced
its bath the butterfly frequently rolled its pro- to catch any more. This butterfly was fed once
boscis up half-way, and then opened it again a day with honey, and was allowed to fly about
and went on with what it was doing. in the sunshine whenever that was possible. It
It was very curious to note the degree of was also put away very carefully at night in a
intelligence shown by this butterfly during the dark closet, where it liked to sleep resting upon
six weeks of his life as a pet. It was a some soft material. If put down upon the
very pretty sight to see him sit in the bowl shelf, it would flutter about in the dark until it
of water, now lapping, then picking all over found something soft. At one place, during
his coat and wings, again taking a sip, and so their travels, the three butterflies slept on the
on, until he seemed well satisfied with his con- window, behind the curtains, and in the morn-
dition, and flew away. He would alight upon the ing they would begin their fluttering as soon as
curtain, over which he crawled slowly, very likely the sunshine came.








THE ROBIN'S SONG.


A LITTLE robin came too soon
From Summerland away:
He must have thought that it was June
When 't was not even May.
" O Robin! with the scarlet vest
Guard well your tiny throat,
Or of the song you love the best
You cannot sing a note.
There is no other bird about;
And, in their coats of fur,
The pussy-willows are not out-
They dare not even purr.
And you will freeze!" But, as I spoke,
He hopped upon a tree,
As if the cold were but a joke,
And sang this song to me:

"0 Apple-tree! the while 't is snowing,
How your pinky buds are glowing-
Growing -blowing glowing
On everything I see!
And somewhere in your branches hiding


One small nest is safe abiding,
Waiting waiting waiting
My little love and me.

"0 Brook! because the ice is near you,
Do you think I cannot hear you
Singing singing -singing
Of daisies and the spring?
O Meadows white! with snowdrifts over,
Don't you know I smell the clover
Coming coming coming
While loud the bluebells ring?

"0 frozen Flakes! that cling together,
You are every one a feather
Falling falling falling
To line the world's great nest.
O Night and Darkness! downward pressing,
You are wings spread out caressing,
Brooding brooding brooding,
All tired things to rest."

And then my robin spread his wings
And flew across the snow;
But somewhere, dear, he always sings
This little song, I know.

Harriet P. Blodgett.


THE CHICKY FAMILY'S RIDE.
487














JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.

BY HOWARD PYLE.


[Begtn in the April number. ]

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE THIRD DAY.
JACK was awakened the next morning by
Dred stirring about. The sun had not yet
arisen; the sky, mottled over with drifting
clouds, was blue and mild. "Well," said
Dred, "I 'm going over to the sand-hills now.
You and the young lady can get some break-
fast ready ag'in' I get back."
"Why, then," said Jack, don't you mean to
take me along with you ?"
"No," said Dred; "'t would be no use.
You can do more by staying here and getting
ready a bite to eat, for I want to make as
early a start as may be."
Jack watched him as he walked across the
little sandy hummocks covered with the wiry
sedge-grass that bent and quivered in the
gentle wind.
Then he got together some wood for the fire,
and presently had a good blaze crackling and
snapping. The young lady was stirring, and in
a little while she came to the door of the hut
and stood looking at him. "Where 's Dred? "
said she.
"Why," said Jack, "he 's gone across to an
observation-tree over yonder "-pointing in the
direction with a bit of wood. I think he '11
be back within half an hour, and he wants
that we should get breakfast ready against
that time."
The breakfast was cooked and spread out
upon a board when Dred returned. His im-
passive face looked more than usually expres-
sionless. "Did you see anything?" asked
Jack.
Dred did not seem to hear him, and made
no reply. He fell to at the food without wait-
ing for the others. Ye might ha' roasted two


.or three of them 'taties we fetched with us,"
said he. "We hain't touched them yet, and
this is like enough to be the last chance we '11
get to do so now, for we be n't like to go
ashore,-leastwise this side of the inlet,-and
arter that we 've got to make straight to Vir-
ginny."
He finished his meal before the others, and
walked up and down while they ate. By and
by he managed to catch Jack's eye, and beck-
oned to him. Jack nodded his head, and pres-
ently he rose. Dred led the way around the
end of the house. "Well," said he in a low
voice, I 've been and took an obserwation."
"Well," said Jack, "what then ? "
"Why," said he, I see a sail off to the
south'rd a-making up Croatan way."
Jack felt a sudden quick shrinking pang of
apprehension about his heart. Well," said
he, "what was it ? Was it the sloop? "
Dred shook his head. I don't know that,"
said he, and I can't just say as 't was the sloop
-but I can't say as 't were n't the sloop, neither.
It may have been a coaster or summat of the
sort; there 's no saying, for 't was too far away
for me to tell just what it was. But I '11 tell you
what 't is, lad, we 've got to get away as fast
as may be, for the craft I see be n't more than
fourteen or fifteen knot astarn of us, and, give
her a stiff breeze, she may overhaul that be
twixt here and the inlet if we tarries too long
I 'd 'a' gone right away only the breakfast was
ready, and I did n't want to frighten the young
Mistress, if so be 't were n't the sloop, arter all."
Jack was looking very fixedly at Dred.
Well, Dred," said he, "suppose 't is the sloop,
and it does overhaul us, what then ? "
Dred shrugged his shoulders, and there was
something in the shrug that spoke more volu-
minously than words could have done. "'T is
no use axing me what then," said he presently.






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


"Well -all we can do is to take our chances
as they come."
The danger in the possibility that the boat
Dred had seen was the sloop, and the further
possibility of its overhauling them, loomed
larger and larger in Jack's mind the more he
thought of it. For a time it seemed as though
he could not bear the weight of apprehension
that now began to settle upon him. Jack won-
dered that Dred could be so cool in the face
of it. Why, Dred," said he, you don't seem
to care whether 't is the sloop or not."
Dred looked at him out of his narrow, black,
bead-like eyes and then shrugged his shoulders
again. His face was as impassive as that of a
sphinx.
Jack stood thinking for a while. The grow-
ing keenness of his apprehension made him al-
most physically sick. He believed that Dred
believed that the sloop was really Blackbeard's,
and that it was overhauling them. "Why not
lie here for the day as you said just now?"
said he, "and sail at night? At least they
could n't see us at night.to chase us, and we
might get by them in the darkness."
Dred shook his head. "I 've debated all
that there, as I told ye," said he, "and 't
would n't do. D' ye see, if we tarry here so
long, 't will allow them-if it be the pirate sloop
I saw-to maybe get to the inlet afore we do,
and to lie across it so there would be no get-
ting out for us, at all. No; to my mind, 't is
best to make a straight run for it now, and trust
to luck. We 've got a four- or five-league start
on 'em now, and that 's a great deal in a starn
chase and a straight chase. If the wind holds
as 't is now, from the sou'west, and blowing any
kind of a breeze, we ought to make the inlet to-
night. Contrariwise, if the wind gets down,
why, then we '11 have to pull for it with the
oars; and we can make better headway with
them than they in the sloop can make with.
their sweeps."
Jack heaved an oppressed and labored sigh.
"After all, 't is a blind chance of that there
craft being the sloop," said Dred. "She may
be a coaster. But 't is no use stopping to talk
about that there now; what we 've got to do
first of all is to get away from here as quick as
may be. I don't see how they got track on us,
VOL. XXII.-62.


anyhow," said he, almost to himself, "unless
they chanced to get some news of us at Goss's,
or unless they ran across Goss hisself." He
slapped his thigh suddenly. "'T is like enough,
now I come to think on it, Goss has gone off
some'eres to buy rum with the sixpence I gave
his mistress, and has run across the Captain
some'eres in the sloop."
"Then you do think the sail you saw was
the sloop ? said Jack.
Once more Dred shrugged his shoulders, but
vouchsafed no other reply.

The breeze grew lighter and lighter as the
day advanced, but by noon they had run in
back of a small island, and by three or four
o'clock were well up into the shoal water of
Currituck Sound.
When they had got out free of the island and
into Albemarle Sound, Dred had every now
and then stood up to look back. Then again
he would take his place looking out ahead.
Each time he had done so Jack had looked at
him, but could make nothing out of his ex-
pressionless, sphinx-like face. Jack wondered
whether the crooked scar across the cheek gave
the face its mask-like look.
Dred glanced up overhead; the broad sun-
light glinted in his narrow black eyes.. "The
wind be growing mightily light," said he; and
then again he stood up and looked out astern.
This time, when he sat down, he exchanged one
swift glance with Jack, and Jack knew that he
had seen something. After that Dred did not
rise again, but he held the tiller motionlessly,
looking steadily out across the water, that grew
smoother as the breeze fell more and more
away. By and by he said suddenly: "Ye
might as well get out the oars and row a bit,
lad; 't will help us along a trifle."
Jack went forward and shipped the oars into
the rowlocks. The sun had been warm and
strong all day, and he laid aside his coat before
he began rowing. They were now skirting
"along well toward the eastern shore of Currituck
Sound. There was a narrow strip of beach, a
strip of flat green marsh, and then beyond that
a white ridge of sand. Flocks of gulls sat out
along the shoals, which, in places, were just
covered with a thin sheet of water. Every now


489






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


and then they would rise as the boat crept
nearer and nearer to them, and would circle
and hover in clamorous flight. Presently, as
Jack sat rowing and looking out astern, he
himself saw the pursuing sail. The first sight
of it struck him as with a sudden shock. He
felt certain that Dred believed it to be the
sloop. He himself felt sure that it must be, for
why else would it be following them up into
the shoals of Currituck Sound?
Suddenly in the silence the young lady spoke:
"Why, that 's another boat I see down yonder,
is it not? "
"Yes, Mistress," said Dred, briefly. He had
not turned his head or looked at her as he
spoke, and Jack bowed over the oars as he
pulled away at them.
After that there was nothing more said for a
long time. The young lady sat with her elbow
resting upon the rail, now looking out at the
boat astern, and now down into the water.
She was perfectly unconscious of any danger.
" What if the sloop should overhaul us! Jack
was saying to himself, "what if the sloop should
overhaul us!" The thought was always in
his mind as he rowed. A long flock of black
ducks threaded its flight across the sunny level
of marsh. There was no cessation to the iter-
ated and ceaseless clamor of the gulls. Now
and then a quavering whistle from some unseen
flock of marsh-birds sounded out from the mea-
sureless blue above. Jack never ceased in his
rowing; he saw and heard all these things as
with the outer part of his consciousness; with
the inner part he was thinking ceaselessly of
the possibility of capture. What if the sloop
should overhaul us!" He looked at Dred's
impassive face, and now and then their eyes
met. Jack wondered what he was thinking of;
whether he thought they would get away, or
whether he thought they would not. "What
if the sloop should overhaul us! "
The sail was still hanging almost flat: only
every now and then it swelled out sluggishly,
and the boat drew forward a little with a noisier
ripple of water under the bows. Jack pulled
steadily away at the oars without ceasing. It
seemed to him that the sail of the boat in the
distance stood higher from the water than it
had. At last he could not forbear to speak.


"She 's coming nigher, ain't she, Dred ?" he
asked.
"I reckon not," said Dred, without turning
his head; "I reckon 't is just looming to the
south'rd, and that makes her appear to stand
higher. Maybe she may have a trifle more
wind than we, but not much."
The young lady roused herself, turned, and
looked out astern. "What boat is that ?" said
she. "It has been following us all the afternoon."
Dred turned toward her with a swift look.
"Why, Mistress," said he, "I don't see no use
in keeping it from you; 't is like that be Black-
beard's boat- the sloop."
The young lady looked steadily at him and
then at Jack. "Are they going to catch us ?"
she asked.
"Why, no," said Dred, "I reckon not;
we 've got too much of a start on 'em. It
be n't more than thirty knot to the inlet, and
they 've got maybe six knot to overhaul us
yet." He turned his head and looked out
astern. D' ye see," said he, "ye can't tell as
to how far they be away. It be looming up
yonder to the south'rd. 'T is like they be as
much as seven knot away rather than six knot."
Again he stood up and looked out astern.
"They 've got a puff of air down there yet,"
said he, and they've got out the sweeps, too."
Jack wondered how Dred could see so far as
to know what they were doing. The breeze
had died away now to cat's-paws that just ruffled
the smooth, bright surface of the water. Dred,
as he stood up, stretched first one arm and then
another. He stood for a while resting his hand
upon the boom, looking out at the other vessel.
Then he began to whistle shrilly a monotonous
tune through his teeth. Jack knew he was
whistling for a wind. Presently he took up his
clasp-knife, and opened it as he stepped across
the thwarts. Jack moved aside to make way.
for him. He stuck the knife into the mast, and
then went aft again. The young lady watched
him curiously. What did you do that for ?"
said she.
"To fetch up a breeze, Mistress," said he,
shortly.
Jack pulled steadily at the oars without
ceasing. The sun sloped lower and lower to-
ward the west. "They ain't gaining on us


490


[APRIL,






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


now," said Dred, but nevertheless Jack could
see that the sail had grown larger and higher
over the edge of the horizon.
The yellow light of the afternoon changed
to orange and then to red, as the sun set in a
perfectly cloudless sky. "I can't row any
more, Dred," said Jack; "I 'm dead tired."
He had not noticed his weariness before; it
seemed as though it suddenly fell upon him
like a leaden weight. The palms of his hands
were burning like fire. He looked at the red,
blistered surface; they had not hurt him so
much until he stretched them, trying to open
them.
"Take a bite to eat," said Dred;. "'t will
freshen you up a bit."
"I don't feel hungry," said Jack.
Like enough not," said Dred. "But 't will
do you good to eat a bite, all the same. The
biscuits are aft here. Here, Mistress, eat that";
and he handed a biscuit to the young lady.
The sail in the distance burned like fire in
the setting sun. The three looked at it. "D' ye
say your prayers, Mistress ? said Dred.
She looked at him as though startled at the
question. "Why, yes, I do," said she. "What
do you mean? "
Why, if you do say your prayers," said Dred,
"when you say 'em to-night just ax for a wind,
won't ye ? We 've got to make the inlet to-
night."
The sun set; the gray of twilight melted into
night; the ceaseless clamor-of the gulls had
long since subsided, and the cool, star-dotted
sky looked down silently and breathlessly upon
them as they lay drifting upon the surface of
the water. "I '11 take a try at the oars my-
self," said Dred, "but I can't do much. You
go to sleep, lad; I '11 wake you arter a while."
Jack lay down upon the bench opposite the
young lady. He shut his eyes. "What if the
sloop should overhaul us!" he thought, and
then he saw the bright level of the water and
the green level of the marsh, as he had seen
them all that afternoon. He seemed to hear
the clamor of the gulls singing in his ears,
and his tired body felt the motion of rowing.
" What if the sloop should overhaul us! At
last his thoughts became tangled; they blurred
and ran together, and before he knew it he


was fast asleep-in the dead sleep of weariness
-and all care and fear of danger was forgotten.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE FOURTH DAY.
JACK felt some one shaking him. He tried
not to awaken he tried to hold fast to his
sleep; but he felt that he was growing wider
and wider awake. Dred was shaking him.
Jack sat up, at first dull .and stupefied with
sleep. He did not, in the moment of new
awakening, know where he was. His mind
did not fit immediately into the circumstances
around him--the narrow, hard space of the
boat, the starry vault of sky, and the dark
water. Then, instantly and suddenly, he re-
membered everything with vivid distinctness.
He looked around for the pursuing boat: it
was nowhere to be seen in the darkness.
Come," said Dred, I 've let you have a
good long sleep, but I can't let you have no
more. We 've got to take to the oars again,
and that 's all there is about it. I tried to
row, but I could n't do it; and so ever since
you 've been sleeping the boat's been drifting.
I '11 lend a hand with one of the oars for a
while; 't will not be so hard on you as if you
had to pull both. But I could n't row by
myself, and that 's all there is of it."
"How long have I been asleep?" asked
Jack.
Why," said Dred, "a matter of four or five
liour."
"Four or five hours! exclaimed Jack. It
seemed to him that he had not been asleep
an hour. He stood up and stretched his
cramped limbs. There was not a breath of
air stirring. In the stern lay the young lady,
dark and silent, covered over with the over-
coats and wraps, -and evidently asleep. She
stirred just a little at the sound of their talk-
ing, but did not arouse herself.
"Have you seen or heard aught of the
sloop ? asked Jack.
No," said Dred. "Go and take your
place, and we '11 pull a bit. I '11 take this seat
here; you take the one amidships."
Jack climbed over the thwarts to his place;
he was still dazed and half inert with the fumes






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


of sleep. He took up his oar, and settled it
quietly into the rowlock so as not to disturb
the young lady. "Do you know what time
't is, Dred?" he asked.
"I make it about two o'clock," said Dred,
"judging by the looks of the stars." He was
leaning over his oar and opening the bag of
biscuit. He handed one back to Jack. "We '11
take a bite to eat and a drop to drink afore
we begin rowing," said he. "Where 's the
bottle? Oh, yes; here 't is."
The young lady stirred at the sound of his
voice near her.
Jack's hands were still sore and blistered
from the rowing of the day before. At first
the oar hurt him very much; but his hands
presently got used to the dragging pull, and
he dipped and pulled in time with the moving
of Dred's body, which he could dimly see in
the darkness. They rowed on in perfect
silence. Now and then Jack's consciousness
blurred, and he felt himself falling asleep; but
he never ceased his rowing. Then again he
would awaken, looking out, as he dipped his
oar, to the whirling eddy it made in the water.
Every stroke of the oar drew the heavy boat
more than a yard and a half onward. "A thou-
sand strokes," said Jack to himself, "will make
a mile." And then he began counting each
stroke as he rowed. Again his mind blurred,
and he forgot what he was counting. "'T was
three hundred and twenty I left off with,"
thought he, as he wakened again. "Maybe
there 's been twenty since then; that would
make three hundred and forty. Three hun-
dred and forty-one, three hundred and forty-
two, three hundred and forty-three -there
was a splash. "That was a fish jumped then.
Three hundred and forty-four, three hundred
and forty-five."
Dred-stopped rowing. I 've got to rest a
bit," said he, almost with a groan. "Drat that
there fever! I don't know what a body 's got
to have fever for, anyway! "
Jack rested upon his oar. It seemed to him
that he almost immediately began drifting off
into unconsciousness, to awaken again with a
start. Dred was still resting upon his oar, and
-the boat was drifting. They were enveloped
and wrapped around by a perfect silence,


through which there seemed to breathe a liquid
murmur.
Still there was no breeze; but there began
to be an indescribable air of freshness breathed
out upon the night. The distant piping of a
flock of marsh-birds sounded suddenly out of
the hollow darkness above. It was the first
spark of the newly awakened life. Again a
tremulous whistle sounded as if passing directly
above their heads. The young lady still lay
darkly motionless in the stern. All the earth
seemed sleeping excepting themselves and that
immaterial whistle sounding out from that abys-
mal vault of darkness. Jack fancied that there
was a slight shot of gray in the east. Again
the whistle sounded, now faint in the distance.
Then there was another answering whistle; then
another-then another. Presently it seemed
as if the air were alive with the whistling.
Suddenly, far away, sounded the sharp clamor
of a sea-gull; a pause; then instantly came a
confused clamor of many gulls. There slowly
grew to be a faint, pallid light along the east,
as broad as a man's hand; but still all around
them the water stretched dark and mysterious.
Dred was again resting upon his oar, breath-
ing heavily. "'T will be broad daylight within
an hour," said he, "and then we can see where
we be."
His sudden speech struck with a startling jar
upon the solitude of the waking day, and Jack
was instantly wide awake. "How far are we
from the inlet now, do you suppose, Dred ? "
A pause. "I don't just know," said Dred.
"'T is maybe not more than fifteen mile."
"Fifteen miles! repeated Jack. Have we
got to row fifteen miles yet ?"
"We '11 have to if we don't get a breeze,"
said Dred, still panting. And as we did n't
get a breeze to reach us to the inlet last night,
we don't want it now. 'T will only serve to
fetch them down upon us if a breeze springs
up now."
Again the sleeping figure in the stern stirred
a little at the sound of voices. The growing
light in the east waxed broader and broader.
In that direction the distance separated itself
from the sky. Jack could see that they were
maybe a mile from the marshy shore, over
which now had awakened the ceaseless clamor


[APRIL,







JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


of the gulls and the teeming life of the sedgy
solitude. To the west it was still dark and in-
distinct, but they could see a further and fur-
ther stretch of water. "I see her," said Dred.
Well, she don't appear to have gained any on
us during the night, anyways."
Jack could see nothing for a while, but after
a time he did distinguish the pallid flicker of a
spot of sail in the far-away distance. Had it
gained upon them? It seemed to Jack, in
spite of what Dred had said, that it was nearer
to them.
The day grew wider and wider. The sun
had not yet risen, but everything stood out
now in the broad, clear, universal flood of light
that lit up the heavens and the earth. The east
grew rosy, and the distance to the west came
out sharply against the dull, gray sky in which
shone steadily a single brilliant star. The boat
was wet with the dew that had gathered upon it.
The young lady roused herself, and sat up
shuddering in the chill of the new awakening.
She looked about her. Then Dred stood up
and looked long and steadily at the strip of
beach to the east. I don't know much about
the lay of the coast up this way," said he.
"There ought to be a signal-mast over toward
the ocean side some'eres about here. But, so
far as I can make out, we be ten mile from
the inlet. I thought we 'd been nigher to it
than we are."
The water was as smooth as glass.

Suddenly the sun rose big, flattened, dis-
torted from across the marsh, shooting its
broad, level light across the water. Presently
the sail in the distance started out like a red
flame in the bright, steady, benignant glow.
Again Jack and Dred were rowing, and the
boat was creeping yard by yard through the
water and leaving behind them a restless, bro-
ken, dark line upon the smooth and otherwise
unbroken surface.
The sun rose higher and higher, and the day
grew warmer and warmer, and still not a breath
of air broke the level surface of the water. It
was maybe ten o'clock. The point of land they
had been abreast of an hour before lay well
away behind. "That 's the inlet where you
see the sand-hills ahead yonder," said Dred.


"How far away are they?" said Jack.
"Not more 'n three mile, I reckon. I was
mistook about its being so far away."
The pirates in the sloop were rowing stead-
ily with the-sweeps. Jack could see every now
and then the glint of the long oars as they were
dipped into the water and came out wet and"
flashing in the sunlight. "They 're gaining
some on us, Dred," said he after a long look.
That comes from a sick man rowing," said
Dred, grimly. "Well, they won't catch us now
if the wind '11 only hold off a little longer. But
I 'm nigh done up, lad, and that 's the truth."
"So am I," said Jack. The keen sense of
danger that had thrilled him the day before
seemed to be sunk into his utter weariness -
dulled and blunted.
They rowed for a while in silence. The sand-
hills crept nearer and nearer. Suddenly Dred
stood up in the boat, holding his oar with one
hand. He did not speak for a moment.
"There's a breeze coming up, down yonder,"
said he. "They 're cracking on all sail.
They '11 get it like enough afore we do. 'T is
lucky we be so nigh the inlet." He took his
place again. Pull away, lad," said he. "I
reckon we are pretty safe, but we '11 make it
sure. As soon as we gets to the inlet we can
take all day to rest."
Jack could see that they were raising every
stitch of sail aboard the sloop. Then, pres-
ently, as he looked, he could see the sails fill
out smooth and round. They 've got it
now," said Dred, and they '11 be coming
down on us hand over hand."
The young lady was looking out astern.
Jack managed to catch Dred's eye as he
turned for a moment and looked out forward.
Jack could not trust himself to speak. Again
the leaden weight of fear and anxiety was
growing upon him-a weight that swelled al-
most to despair. He did not say anything,
but his eyes asked, "What are our chances?"
Dred must have read the question, for he
said: "Well, it hain't likely they '11 overhaul us
now. If we 'd only had wind enough to carry
us to the inlet last night, we 'd been safe; but
the next best thing is no wind at all, and that
we 've had. I reckon we '11 make it if we
keep close to the shore, where 't is too shoal


493






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


for her to folly. Yonder comes the breeze.
We '11 get it afore I thought we would."
He drew in his oar and handed it to Jack.
"You take this," said he, "and keep on
rowing and I '11 trim sail." He went forward
and raised the gaff a little higher. Pull away,
lad, pull away! and don't sit staring."
In spite of what Dred had said, Jack could
see that the sloop was rapidly overhauling
them. It was now coming down swiftly upon
them, looming every moment higher and higher.
In the distance Jack could see a black strip
lining the smooth surface of the water. It
was the breeze rushing toward them ahead of
the oncoming sail. Suddenly all around them
the water was dusked with cat's-paws. Then
came a sudden cool puff of air--a faint breath
promising the breeze to come. The sails swelled
sluggishly and then fell limp again. The line
of oncoming breeze that had been sharp now
looked broken and ragged upon the near ap-
proach of the wind. "Now she 's coming,"
said Dred.
He was looking steadily over the stem. The
sloop, every stitch of sail spread, was making
toward them. There was a white snarl of
water under her bows. It seemed to Jack
that in five minutes she must be upon them.
Suddenly there was another cool breath, then a
rush of air. The boom swung out, the sail filled,
and the boat gave a swift lurch forward, with
the ripple and the gurgle of water about them.
Then the swift wind was all around them, and
the boat heeled over to it and rushed rapidly
away.
Jack was still rowing: the motion had
grown habitual with him, and now he hardly
noticed it. The sloop seemed to be almost
upon them. He could even see the men upon
the decks. Dred sat grimly at the tiller. He
sat looking steadily out ahead, never moving a
hair. Jack sat thrilled as with a sudden spasm,
and everything about him seemed to melt into
the fear rushing down upon them-the despair
of certain capture. It seemed to "him that he
felt his face twitching. He looked at Dred:
there were haggard lines of weakness upon
his steadfast face, but no signs of anxiety.
Again Dred must have read his look. "They
can't reach us here," said he; "the water is too


shoal." Suddenly, even as he spoke, Jack saw
the sloop coming about. He could hear the
creak of the block and tackle as they hauled
in the great squaresail. He could see the
mainsail flapping limp and empty of wind.
Dred turned swiftly and looked over his shoul-
der. "D' ye see that ?" said he. "They 've
run up in the shoal now. They've got to keep
out into the channel, and that 's about as nigh
as they can come to us. They '11 give us a
shot or two now; then they '11 run out into the
channel again. What they '11 try to do now '11
be to head us off at the inlet, but they 've got
to make a long leg and a short leg to do that.
Ay!" he cried exultantly. "You 're too late,
my hearty! and he shook his fist at the sloop.
The sloop had now fallen off broadside to
them. Its limp sails began again to fill. It
looked ten times as big now as when running
bow on. Suddenly there was a round puff of
smoke in the sunlight, that instantly broke and
dissolved in the wind. There was a splash of
water; then another splash and another, and at
the same moment a report of a gun. Boom!
A dull, heavy, thudding sound, upon the beat
of which a hundred little fish skipped out of
the water all about them.
At the heavy beat of the report, the young
lady uttered an exclamation like a smothered
scream. The cannon-ball went skipping and
ricochetting across their bows and away.
"Don't you be afraid, Mistress," said Dred;
"there be n't one chance in a thousand of
their hitting us at this distance; and, d' ye see,
they 're running away from us now. Each
minute there 's less chance of them harming
us. Just you bear up a little and they '11 be
out of distance."
She brushed her hand for a moment across
her eyes, and then seemed to have gained some
command over herself. "Are they going to
leave us ?" said she.
"Why, no," said Dred, not exactly. They
know now that we 're making for the inlet.
What they '11 do '11 be to run out furder into
the channel, and then come back on another
tack, and along close into the inlet so as to
head us off. But, d' ye see, the water be too
shoal for them, and they 're likely to run
aground any moment now. As for us, why


[APRIL,


494






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


we 've got a straight course, d' ye see, and our
chance is ten to one of making through the
inlet afore they can stop us."
Again there was another puff of smoke that
swept away, dissolving down the wind. Again
came the skipping shot, and again there was
the dull, heavy boom of the cannon! It seemed
to Jack that the shot was coming straight into
the boat. The young lady gripped the rail with
her hand. The cannon-ball went hissing and
screeching past them. "See that!" said Dred;
"that was a nigh one for sartin. 'T was Mor-
ton hisself laid that gun, I '11 be bound." Ano-
ther cloud of smoke, and another dull report,
and another ball came skipping across the
water, this time wide of the mark. The sloop
was now running swiftly away from them;
growing smaller and smaller in the distance,
her sails again smooth and round with the
wind. They did not fire any more. Jack bent
to the rowing. He no longer felt the smart of
his hands or the weariness of his muscles. It
seemed to him that he had never felt so strong.
It was not until the guns had been fired that
the young lady appreciated the full danger they
were in. Jack now saw that she was wringing
her hands and tearlessly sobbing, her face as
white as ashes. "Come, come, Mistress!" said
Dred, roughly; "'t won't do no good for you
to take on so. Be still, will you ?"
The bruskness of his speech silenced her
somewhat. Jack saw her bite at her hand in
the intensity of her self-repression.
"How far is it to the inlet?" said Jack,
hoarsely.
Half a mile," said Dred.
Jack turned his head to look. "Mind your
oars," said Dred; "'t is no time to look now.
I '11 mind the inlet. 'T won't get us there any
quicker for you to look."
The sloop was maybe a mile away. Again it
was coming about. Now for it!" said Dred;
"'t is they or us this time." Jack rowed desper-
ately. "That's right; pull away! Every inch
gained is that much longer life for all on us."
The water was now dappled with white-caps,
and the swift wind drove the yawl plunging
forward. The sloop was now set upon the
same course that they were, only bearing to-
ward them to head them off. As for them, their


leeway was bringing them nearer and nearer
the shore. Dred put down the helm a little
further, so as to keep the boat off the shoals.
This lost them a little headway. Jack's every
faculty was bent upon rowing. The sea-gulls
rose before them in dissolving flight. The can-
non-shots had aroused them all along the shore.
Jack heard their clamor dimly and distantly
through the turmoil of his own excited fears.
His throat was dry and hot, and his mouth
parched. He could hear the blood surging
and thumping in his ears. He looked at the
young lady as though in a dream, and saw
dully that her face was very white, and that
she gripped the rail of the boat. The sloop,
as he looked at it, seemed to grow almost visi-
bly larger to his eyes. It seemed to tower as
it approached. He could see the figures of the
men swarming upon the decks. He looked
over his shoulder-the inlet was there. Un-
ship the oars!" said Dred, sharply; "'t is sail
or naught now." Then, as Jack unshipping the
oars tipped the boat a little, Dred burst out
hoarsely: "Steady there, you blundering fool!
What d' ye heave about so for?" Jack drew
in the oars and laid them down across the
thwarts, and again Dred burst out roughly:
"Look out! What ye 're doing! You 're
scattering the water all over us."
I did n't mean it," said Jack. I could n't
help it."
Dred glared at him, but did not reply. Jack
looked over his shoulder. The broad mouth
of the inlet was opening swiftly before them-
the inlet and safety. Suddenly the bottom of
the boat grated and hung upon the sand, and
Jack, with a dreadful thrill, realized that they
were aground. The young lady clutched the
rail with both hands with a shriek as the boat
careened on the bar, almost capsizing. Dred
sprang up and drew in the sheets hand over
hand. "Push her off! he roared. Jack seized
one of the oars, but before he could use it the
yawl was free again and afloat. Dred sat down,
quickly running out the sheets once more.
Jack's heart was beating and fluttering in his
throat so that he almost choked with it. Dred
did not look at the sloop at all. Some one
was calling to them through a speaking-trum-
pet; but Jack could not distinguish the words,






JACK BALLISTER'S FORTUNES.


and Dred paid no attention to them. There
was another puff of smoke, and this time a loud
booming report, and the almost instant splash
and dash of the shot across their stem. Jack
saw it all dully and distantly. Why was Dred
sailing across the mouth of the inlet instead
of running into it? "Why don't you run into
the inlet, Dred ? he cried shrilly why don't
you run into the inlet? You 're losing time!
They 'll be down upon us in a minute if you
don't run in! "
"You mind your own business," shouted
Dred, and I '11 mind mine! Then he added,
"I 've got to run up past the bar, hain't I?
I can't run across the sand, can I ?
"About! called Dred, sharply; and he put
down the helm.
Jack could see straight through the inlet to the
wide ocean beyond. It was a quarter of a mile
away, and at its edge there was a white line of
breakers. There was a loud, heavy report,-
startlingly loud to Jack's ears,- and a'cannon-
ball rushed screeching past them. He ducked
his head, crouching down, and the young lady
screamed out shrilly. Dred sat grim and silent
as fate. Again the bottom of the boat grated
upon the sand. "Oh, Dred!" burst out Jack,
" we 're aground again! Dred never stirred.
The yawl grated and ground upon the sandy
bar, and then, once more, it was free.
Then Dred looked over his shoulder; he
looked back; then he looked over his shoul-
der again. Get down, Mistress," said he,
sharply; get down in the bottom of the boat !
They 're going to give us a volley." Jack saw
the glint of the sunlight upon the musket-
barrels. The young lady looked at Dred with
wide eyes; she seemed bewildered. Get
down!" cried out Dred, harshly. "Are you
gone daft? Get down, I say!" Jack reached
out and caught her violently by the arm and
dragged her down into the bottom of the boat.
Even as he did so he saw a broken, irregular
cloud of smoke shoot out from the side of the
sloop. He shut his eyes spasmodically. There
was a loud, rattling report, and the shrill piping
and whistling of the bullets. There was a
splashing and clipping. Would he be hurt?
There was the jar of thudding bullets. There


was a shock that seemed to numb his arm to
the shoulder; he was hit. No; the bullet had
struck the rail just beside his hand. He was
unhurt. He opened his eyes; a vast rush of
relief seemed to fill his soul. No one was hurt;
the danger was past and gone. No! some of
them were aiming again. There was a puff of
smoke; a sharp report; another and another;
then three or four almost together. The bullets
were humming and singing, clipping along the
top of the water; one-two struck with a thud
against the boat. Jack 'saw in a blinded sort
of a way that the sloop had come up into the
wind; she could follow them no further.
There were half a dozen puffs of smoke all
together. Would the dreadful danger never
be past ? Was there no way of escape ? The
distant rattling report of the muskets came
thudding down the wind. Again the bullets
were about them. Jack bent his head, waiting
blindly for his fate. He listened to the pinging
scream of bullets. They were thudding and
crackling against the side of the boat; again
they were splashing in the water. Would they
pass?
"Ach! cried out Dred.
Jack looked up with an agonizing, blinding
terror. Was Dred hurt? No; he could not
be. There was no sign of hurt. Was that a
little tear in his shirt ? It could not be. Oh,
could it be real ? There was blood. Oh, it
could not be. Yes; there was a great, wide
stain of blood shooting and spreading over his
shirt. Oh, Dred! screamed Jack, shrilly.
Sit down! roared Dred. He put his hand
to his side. Suddenly there was a broken swirl
and toss all around them. It was the ground-
swell coming in past the shoals. The boat
pitched and tossed; there was a great splash
of breakers that nearly capsized them. Jack
sprang up. "Steady'! cried out Dred. The
pirate sloop was far away in the distance.
Were they still shooting? Jack did not know.
He saw everything with blinded eyes. Was
it, then, possible! Dred's shirt was soaked
with blood. What was it now?--there was
something. They were out in the ocean; that
was it. The inlet was passed. Oh! groaned
Dred- oh, I 'm hurt! "


(To be continued.)


496-


























Fp1


L,1


'1!''


THE PIRATES FIRE UPON THE FUGITIVES.
"The bullets were humming and singing, clipping along the top of the water."
(SEE PAGE 496.)


VOL. XXII.-63.


/s '.-
* /


~h~h-~~


r
e~jr~-8spl-l












WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS.
(Thirteenth kpaerof the series, Quadrupeds of Nort A merica.")

BY W. T. HORNADAY.


OUTSIDE of scientific circles, probably not
one person in every thousand is aware of the
tremendous overhauling that our American
mouse, pouched-rat, and pocket-gopher fami-
lies (and others also) have received during the
last ten years. In the course of the systematic
field-collecting set on foot by Dr. Merriam, Dr.
J. A. Allen, Mr. True, Dr. Mearns, Mr. Chap-
man, Mr. Bryant, and others, vast areas of new


THE LONG-LEGGED JUMPING MOUSE.
territory have been systematically explored, and
an immense number of new species and sub-
species have been discovered and described.
Even now, however, Dr. Allen mournfully de-
clares that "we know almost nothing about the
white-footed mice, and the whole group remains
to be worked over."
Glance for a moment at these figures, which
will give an idea of the enterprise and thorough-


ness of our professional mammalogists in three
families alone:
Total s 6cies New species Total on
known In 1884. added since. Jan. 1, 1895.
Pouched-rat Family.... 13 .. 71 .. 84"
Pocket-gopher Family... 23 .. 3
Mouse Family......... 7 .. 26 .. 163*
59 .. 220 .. 279
Think of it! An increase of new species
amounting to three hundred and fifty per cent.
in ten years-and we are yet
far from the end!
This great increase in number
of species, many of which re-
semble each other very closely,
brings us face to face with new
conditions. The time was when
it was possible for you and me
really to know every species of
American mammal, and recog-
nize it with comparatively little
trouble. Now, however, with
the lines of separation more
finely drawn, we can hardly do
more with the "rats and mice
and such small deer" than to
become acquainted with the
typical or representative forms,
and to leave the fine distinc-
tions to the men who have the
large collections.
To-day we have four families to account for,
the first of which is that of the JUMPING MOUSE,
containing only two species,
JUMPING MOUSE. one of which is new. In pro-
(Za'pus Hud-so'ni-us.)
(ZausHd-so'i-.) portion to its size, I believe
this is the most active and powerful of all ver-
tebrate animals. This tiny creature no larger
than a man's thumb-is from two and one half
to three inches in length, with a tail about twice


* These totals are larger than those given for the same families in the previous paper. Since the latter was put
in type, Dr. Allen and Dr. Merriam have described twenty-three new species, and "revived"
two that had been abandoned by authors.






WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS.


499


as long as the head and body. It is therefore
no larger than a house mouse, but it has light
fore quarters, strong hind quarters, very long
hind legs,-and it can jump from eight to ten
feet! If a mouse weighing two ounces (av-
erage) can jump ten feet, how far should a
one-hundred-pound boy of equal agility be able
to jump ? Figure it out for yourself, and when
you have obtained the correct answer, you will
properly appreciate the hind legs of this won-
derful little mite.
When you are hauling in sheaves of wheat
from the field, and a little animal suddenly
makes a tremendous flying leap from the bot-
tom of a shock, that is a Jumping Mouse,-and
the chances are as ten to one that you will not
catch it. Talk about speed,- why, it is actu-
ally flying without wings! This little creature
lives on seeds and nuts, burrows in the ground,
carries its marketing in its cheek-pouches, be-
comes perfectly dormant and apparently dead
in winter, and is quite nocturnal in its habits.
It is found scattered throughout the northern
United States and Canada, in wooded regions
from New York to Oregon, and as far north as
Lake Nushagak, Alaska.
If ever an elf takes on the form of an animal,
I am sure it will be found in the KANGAROO
RAT, a droll little creature
KANGAROO RAT. of the pouched-rat fam-
Dod'o-s PAil'ls-.) ily, provided with external
cheek-pouches nicely lined with fur. Of all the
rats that ever lived, excepting white ones, the
members of the genus Dipodomys are surely
the most attractive and interesting. Instead
of being ever ready to squeal shrilly and then
bite your finger to the bone, like a common
rat, these cunning little fellows do not at-
tempt to bite you, even when first caught (so
says Mr. Arthur B. Baker concerning the New
Mexican species). The picture tells their shape,
and I have only to add that their fur is soft,
silky, rather long, and usually of a tawny-brown
color. In length of head and body, specimens
from New Mexico average four and one half
inches, and the tail measures five and three
quarters, with a very artistic tuft of long hair at
the end.
From 1841 to 1887 the world knew but two
species of Kangaroo Rats, and even those were


known by no means well. But during the last
ten years the genus Dipodomys has received
very special attention. Not only have sixteen
new species been discovered and described, but
a new genus, called Perodipus, has been created,
and eleven new species have been found for
that also. In the dry and sterile regions of
Mexico and our great Southwest, from Okla-
homa to central California, where the deserts
produce nothing but sand, cacti, yuccas, and
sage-brush, these saucy little creatures hold
forth. They are apparently fire-proof, for no
amount of heat affects them, and they are
water-proof also, for its utter absence does not
depress their agile spirits in the least.










_- i..S -.

KANGAROO RAT.
Mr. Baker says that Ord's Kangaroo Rat
builds for itself mounds of dirt and gravel from
one to three feet in height, from five to ten
feet in diameter, and literally honeycombed
with burrows and run-ways, as if quite an in-
dustrious community inhabited each mound.
So far as known, these creatures are all quite
nocturnal in their habits, and in going about
hop on their hind legs, balancing with the tail,
and holding the fore feet tucked up close un-
der the chin, almost hidden by the fur.
West of the Mississippi there is a very large
and numerous clan of our Pouched-rat Family,
brought together under the generic name of
P'erognatkus, and consisting now of forty-three
species, of which thirty-seven are new. They
are known generally as Pocket-mice; and the
COMMON POCKET-
COMMON POCKET-MOUSE. MOUSE may be taken
(Per-og'na-thus fasci-a'tus.)
as an example, even
though it is the largest of them all. It is about
four inches in length, to which the tail adds
four inches more.






WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS.


Next to this large group comes a small
one containing only two tiny species, one of
which, the LEAST POCKET-MOUSE, is, I believe,
the smallest American
LEAST PQCKET-MOUSE. member of the great
(Cri-ce-tod'i-us ar'vus.) order deti.
order Rodentia.
The next family, which is that of the Pocket-
gophers, contains some of the farmer's worst
enemies. Look at this fine portrait of the RED
POCKET-GOPHER, and
RED POCKET-GOPHER. tell me if he does not
(Ge'o-mys bur-sa'ri-us.)
look like a hardened
criminal. Notice that big, chubby, shapeless
body-a perfect bag in which to store stolen
potatoes and corn. He has little, beady black
eyes, like a snake's, and mean little ears that
look as if a pair of good ears had been bitten
off. Those large front teeth are so big and so
ugly he actually can't shut his mouth, and on
each side of them is a great, big hairy pocket
that serves the double purpose of holding


mendous fore legs behind them, the farmer
believes that Nature made a great mistake, for
which she owes him an unqualified apology.
The worst of it is that the nature of the
Pocket-gopher is no better than his looks.


/




-- _-___ _

POCKET-MOUSE.

those of his very nearest


He is so mean
and so unsociable
that each one bur-
rows alone. Like
a rogue elephant,
he leads a soli-
tary life, and does
not even connect
his burrow with
neighbors.


Besides the grain and vegetables he eats, he
destroys far more by smothering the young
crops with fresh dirt. Wherever he digs a bur-
row,-and he digs many,-he heaps up a big
mound of earth around the mouth of it, killing
half a square yard of grass or corn, wheat or


t p
-E D O K E --O P E
. .R PC KE G R ,. '



RED POCKET-GOPHER.


stolen goods and carrying dirt. And those
claws on his fore feet! Like the thorns on a
prickly pear, they were made to do damage,-
and in making them, and putting such tre-


oats, every time. I have seen fine meadows
completely ruined by a multitude of unsightly
gopher hills. And to the average farmer the
Gopher is a difficult animal to trap. Now,


500


[APRIL,






WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS.


however, the farmers have learned how to kill
them with wheat soaked for twenty-four hours
in strychnine, using an ounce of strychnine to
every bushel of wheat. The dose is a spoon-
ful to each hole.
The Pocket-gophers, of which there are
thirty-two species known at this date, are worst


Family, and one hundred and sixty-three spe-
cies; and out of this bewildering multitude it
is possible to mention only the representatives
of the most prominent groups.
To me the lower animals are like people:
some seem born to be liked, others not.
I would like to write an entire paper on the


f 7 .. -


MUSKRAT AND NEST. (THE NEST IS SHOWN WITH ONE SIDE REMOVED.)


in the prairie regions of the West, beginning at
the Mississippi; but they are also found in Florida,
Georgia, Alabama, California, the Southwest
generally, and Mexico and Central America.
There are but two genera, however, which is one
comfort. The one known as Tho-mo'mys con-
tains seventeen species, all of which are generally
smaller in size than those belonging to Geomys.
When I was a farmer boy in the Hawkeye
State, the big Red Pocket-gopher and I were
sworn enemies. He invaded my father's corn-
fields and meadows, and since he was an out-
law with a price upon his head (our county
paid a bounty of ten cents each on gopher
scalps), I waged continual war upon him, chiefly
by means of steel traps.
There are seventeen genera in the Mouse


droll ways of certain distinguished members of
the Wood-rat, Pack-rat, Trading-rat, or Bush-
rat genus (Neotoma); but it is not so nomi-
nated in the bond, and I must be more brief.
In the days of our mammalian poverty we pos-
sessed but four species of this genus. Now,
however, we are really rich in Neotomas, and
have forty-three to our credit, with several
rural districts yet to hear from. These are
the amiable little rascals who come into your
camp, or your home in the woods, and play
the maddest pranks imaginable with your small
belongings. They are not half so much in-
clined to steal as to play practical jokes upon you
by taking little things from where they belong,
and hiding them in the most unlikely places.
The latest narrative of the queer doings of


1895.]






WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS.


the FLORIDA WOOD-RAT, the best-known of
them all, comes from Mrs.
FLORIDA WOOD-RAT. C. F. Latham, of Micco,
(Ne-ofo-ma Flor-i-dan'a.)
(Ne-oo-mFr--da'.) Florida. Previous to the
destruction by fire of the old Oak Lodge, year
before last, it was often visited by a pair of very
sociable and quite harmless Wood-rats, who
nested in a palmetto hut near by, and made

L ...


NEST OF THE FLORIDA WOOD-RAT.

it their home until some cats came into the
family. The Wood-rats were big-eyed, hand-
some creatures, without the vicious look of a
common rat, with fine, yellowish-gray fur, white
feet, and white under parts. Inasmuch as they
never destroyed anything save a pair of Mrs.
Latham's shoe-strings, which they had to cut
in order to get them out of the eyelet-holes,
they were tolerated about the premises, and
here are some of the queer things they did.
They carried some watermelon seeds from
the lower floor, and hid them up-stairs under
Mr. Baxter's pillow. In the kitchen they found


[APRIL,


some cucumber
seeds, and ofthese 7.
they took a table-

posited them in '
the pocket of
Mr. Baxter's vest,
which hung up-
stairs on a nail.
In one night they FLORIDA WOOD-RAT.
took eighty-five pieces of wood from a box of
beehive fixtures, and laid them in a corn-box.
The following night they took about two quarts
of corn and oats, and put it into the box from
which the beehive fixtures came. Once Mrs.
Latham missed a handful of pecans, and they
were so thoroughly hidden that she never found
them. About a year later the rats realized that
Mrs. Latham had "given it up," and lo! the
pecans suddenly appeared one day upon her
bed!
All this sounds like a fairy tale; but it is all
true, for Mrs. Latham says it is. Many similar
strange stories of the Pack-rat have been told
me across the camp-fire by Western hunters and
miners. This creature is as industrious as the
night is long. Although he is but the size
of a common rat, he builds a huge mound
of sticks, grass, leaves, and bark, two or
even three feet high, and calls it home.
For an animal whose flesh is said by Dr.
Coues to be better than that of the squirrel,
S and is generally eaten by Mr. Lo, the
building of such conspicuous nests is very


injudicious, to say the least of it. A hun-
gry Indian can see them altogether too
far for the well-being of Neotoma. The



I '
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',Ja~..LA


3- 7


MEADOW-MOUSE.


502


I


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a~c;i
i






1895.) WILD MICE, RATS, AND GOPHERS. 503
accompanying illustration, drawn from a nest to help us, we need not tarry for a description
in the National Museum, is an excellent repre- of so familiar a friend as our architect of the
pond and back-water, who must be a personal
acquaintance of very many ST. NICHOLAS boys.
Of the great, wide-spread WHITE-FOOTED
MOUSE genus (Si-to'mys: formerly called -Ses-
--: fper'o-mys), and its thirty-eight species, of which
Si-to'mys leu-co'fus is the best known member,
J .:. there is no room to tell. The MEADOW-MOUSE
COTTON-RAT. genus (Ar-vic'o-la), with twenty-four species,
sentation of the large brush-piles of this very must also be passed undescribed; nor do I see
industrious and interesting little creature. The how to save the COTTON-RAT genus (Sigmo-
Wood-rats are very widely distributed through- don), the LEMMING-VOLES (Sy-nap'to-mys), and
out the whole southern half of the United
States, Mexico, and Central America; and,
as a matter of course, their nesting habits
vary according to the character of their
surroundings. Sometimes they build in
trees, but often in hollow tree-trunks or
logs, or under stones.
Our old friend the MUSKRAT belongs
scientifically to the Mouse
MUSKRAT. Family, though I dare
(Fiber zi-bet'i-cus.) say it would astonish him

beyond measure to find it out. Commer-
cially he is by far the most valuable one
of the family. His warm fur coat is now
very much in demand by the furriers, and
when dyed a glossy black it becomes
French seal "! When Uncle Sam's sol-
diers are so unlucky as to be obliged to
take the field in bitter cold weather, it is
gloves and caps of muskrat fur that keep
fingers and ears from freezing. I know
also, by hunting experiences, that when
camping without a tent, with the mercury THE WHITE-FOOTED WESTERN MOUSE.
down to twelve degrees below zero, a cap the RED-BACKED MICE (E-vot'o-mfys) from the
of muskrat fur makes a most excellent night- same fate, except by the exhibition of a speci-
cap. But surely, with the picture on page 5ox men portrait of each.



'A 7


RED-BACKED MEADOW-MOUSE.


LEMMING-VOLE.










THREE FRESHMEN: RUTH, FRAN, AND NATHALIE.

By JESSIE M. ANDERSON.


BACK TO COLLEGE. THE SPECIAL" TRAIN FOR NORTHAMPTON.


[Begun in the January number.]
CHAPTER X.
THE BOWER DESERTED.
RUTH, at home again, with all the little de-
lights of home,-putting Elsie to bed, with her
clinging arms and her sleepy kisses; doing the
"marketing" every morning in the pleasant old
routine; teased from morning to night by the
ingenious Will,- thought many times of Fran's
discontent with the everlasting girls" at col-
lege. But she felt that no four years could
change her place at home; and she had a new
glimpse of the dearness of the home life, seeing
its value with eyes the clearer for a different
experience. The old scenes had a new charm.


Nathalie was homesick at first, and pined for
"Ole Virginny." But the crisp afternoons of
skating and sleighing were a new experience,
and an uncommonly jolly one--when she did
not get too cold. It was very pleasant to come
home by moonlight -though all too soon it
was by starlight--to a hot supper of chicken
and waffles and maple syrup; and afterward to
sit quietly in the library, with the hickory fire
throwing incongruous dancing lights on the
sober, heavy furniture, and leaving the far cor-
ners of the room regions of delightful, unex-
plored mystery.
Nathalie would sit with her guitar, playing
softly, and singing Dresden China," or some
old ballad dreamily forgetting that the room






THREE FRESHMEN: RUTH, FRAN, AND NATHALIE.


held so many listeners lounging in easy chairs
and watching her sweet face in the fire-glow.
"How empty Boffins' Bower must look!"
Ruth soliloquized aloud, one of these evenings.
, The pictures all turning their faces to the
walls, the tea-cups packed up in the old Tro-
jan Horse, and the bookcases swathed in blue-
and-white bedticking."
"Yes; I have no doubt Tara's halls must
have a soul-of-music-fled effect," remarked Will,
leaning over to poke the fire.
"We shall sadly miss our little minstrel," Dr.
Chittenden said, in the tone which gave weight
to his lightest word. Ruth had always felt awe
of her grave, tall father, which kept her from
the lighter caresses which she lavished on "little
mother." But Nathalie, sadly longing for her
own father, had from the first day an affection
for the stately old man, and had drawn from,
him a gentleness of expression that surprised
Ruth. Now she laid down her guitar, and,
standing behind Dr. Chittenden's chair, patted
and stroked his hair, and leaned over and
kissed his forehead.
Fran was expected the next morning, to
spend the last two days of the vacation at
Homewood. She came in gayer spirits than
ever, full of the dances and theater-parties
which had been given for her, and exulting
beyond measure in a whole trunkful of new
gowns.
"Did you see anything of those two Chi-
cago Juniors?" Ruth asked,-" the ones that
seemed so eager to call on you ?"
"No, dear; I was out when they called.
And I was glad enough. They 're such sedate
creatures, someway,-too much like taking col-
lege home with me, like the Old Man of the
Sea! You know I 'm just joking, love," she
added, kissing Ruth impetuously. I love the
dear old Bower, and am simply pining to get
back to its peaceful shade. As for Home-
wood, it is just the name for this place! I
knew your home was like this: it's a picture
and a dream."
Then they talked of Nathalie. "She is
prettier here than at college. There is more
chance for her, more background for her dainty
ways. Will will be losing his heart to the little
witch! said Fran mischievously.
VOL. XXII.-64.


"You do talk shockingly!" said Ruth, try-
ing not to laugh at the ingenuous smile in
Fran's eyes, and the irresistible dimpling of her
chin. "Now put on that hat you say you
look like a cherub in, so that I can forget your
naughty ways!"
Ruth and Fran were both in high spirits
over going back to the Bower. But Nathalie
was very sober in the train, as they sped across
Massachusetts from Boston to Springfield, now
and then picking up groups of the girls."
When they came to change at Springfield,"
according to the very loud and nasal directions
of the brakeman, they found the Northampton
car nearly full of Smith students; and for the
whole forty minutes they made things rather
hard for such of the passengers as were of the
"town" and not of the "gown although
-some of these were good-humored enough to
enjoy the bright chattering and Happy New
Years" that were sent across them or over their
heads, by girls oblivious of their presence.
That night the bookcases of the Bower shook
off their dismal bedticking, and the pictures no
longer averted their faces like angry goddesses.
And that curious feeling came over our Bof-
fins that so often comes on a return to familiar
haunts that they had not been away at all,
but had passed through a pleasant dream.
And so things settled down into the much
complained-of but much loved routine.

CHAPTER XI.
THE AUDUBON SOCIETY.
"AH, please, Mrs. Boffin "
My dear Ruth, I never made a speech in
my life. I detest societies and pledges. And
as for promising not to wear the hat that I look
like a cherub in, the little pheasant turban, you
might as well ask me to throw this dress away
because, very possibly, the sheep got snipped
in the shearing! You're a fanatic, Ruthie!"
"But, Fran dear, I ask you only to go to
the meeting, just to lend your influence. You
know you are a leader, and I need your help
to get the girls together. If you do that, I '11
let you off from the speech! And you need
not sign the pledge. Only come over."
"Perge modo! Well, it 's nearly two now,







THREE FRESHMEN: RUTH, FRAN, AND NATHALIE.


so come along, and wipe that tear out of your
soft hazel eye Where 's Nathalie ?"
So all three Boffins walked across the cam-
pus, to join the freshman class, urged, by a
notice posted on the bulletin-board, to "come
together in room No. 4, to consider uniting
themselves with the upper classes in forming a
branch Audubon Society."
Ruth had gone into it, Fran said, with all
the enthusiasm she could spare from her mill-
girls. She had entreated the freshmen individ-
ually, "please to come," till she had gathered
together thirty-eight of them. Half scared now
by the size of her undertaking, she rose, after
Fran had called the meeting to order, and
began in a quaking but eager voice:
Girls, you have doubtless seen in the papers
of late, or have heard the upper-class girls talk-
ing about, the Audubon movement throughout
the country. It has grown rapidly. Societies
have already been formed in some of the
woman's colleges, in sympathy with this move-
ment, pledging their members not to wear the
skins of wild birds as hat or dress trimming. I
have prepared some statistics, showing the two
great reasons for this crusade: one, a more
purely ethical one, the cruelty of the methods
by which the skins or feathers are obtained and
prepared; the other, the scientific reason, that
most beautiful and valuable species of wild
birds are thus being exterminated."
She then read from a tiny red leather note-
book some figures, and told tales that in the
good old days of zEneas would have caused the
listeners' hair to stand on end. Then she called
upon one of the girls to read from a scientific
magazine some account of almost incredible
barbarisms practised in skinning the birds alive,
to preserve the delicate coloring of the feathers.
Next, she called for volunteer remarks.
To her amazement, Fran, the skeptic of an
hour before, jumped up and said:
Girls, when I came in, I had not the cold-
est sympathy with this thing, and now. I am
almost a convert. We see a kitten jump at the
canary's cage, and we slap its paws, and say
'Naughty kitten!' and hold up its natural and
untaught impulse as a crime before little chil-
dren with like cruel propensities! And then we
go down town and buy a little round hat, with


canary-birds all around the brim, and unteach
all we have taught the child who very likely
will say, 'Poor little dead birdies!'"
Fran sat down as unexpectedly as she had
gotten up; and a Miss Brownell now read
from Longfellow's Birds of Killingworth ":

"The thrush, that carols at the dawn of day
From the green steeples of the piny wood;
The oriole in the elm; the noisy jay,
Jargoning like a foreigner at his food;
The bluebird balanced on some topmost spray,
Flooding with melody the neighborhood;
Linnet and meadow-lark, and all the throng
That dwell in nests, and have the gift of song,-.
You slay them all!
a *
How can I teach your children gentleness,
And mercy to the weak, and reverence
For Life, which, in its weakness or excess,
Is still a gleam of God's omnipotence,
Or Death, which, seeming darkness, is no less
The selfsame light, although averted hence,
When by your laws, your actions, and your speech
You contradict the very things I teach?"

Then another girl, at a sign from Ruth, read
passages from a poem by Browning:

"What clings
Half savage-like around your hat?"

"Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird wings!
Next season-Paris prints assert-
We must go feathered to the skirt:
My modiste keeps on the alert."
"You/-clothed with murder of His best
Of harmless beings! "

Then Ruth rose again, and said, with the
eager, naive enthusiasm which had already car-
ried along with it the half-unwilling Fran:
"You see, girls, we have the poets with us!
Now, I know that some of you are prejudiced
against signing pledges. We ask those that are
willing to pledge themselves to give up wearing
birds' feathers (except ostrich-feathers, which
can be obtained with no harm to the birds), to
come forward and sign this paper, entering
them as regular members of the 'Audubon.'
Those who are willing to lend their influence
toward the support of this side of the question
may-without taking any pledge-become
associate members of the society. I do beg
even those who have already bought birds, to






THREE FRESHMEN: RUTH, FRAN, AND NATHALIE.


replace them with some other trimming, for the
example of the thing. I feel as if I were plead-
ing for little friends, and you would not need
teasing, if you knew birds as I do!"
To Ruth's utter delight,-and it meant every-
thing to her totally loyal soul, now given up to
the cause, -there were soon eleven names
signed to the unconditional pledge,-led off
by Fran's: which move that young lady sec-
onded by going home and at once retrimming
her "pheasant turban" with dark-green velvet
caught into knots by tiny gold buckles.
"It is the dearest hat you ever had !" cried
Ruth rapturously; "and you are a 'cherub
in it'!"
CHAPTER XII.
A MODULATION.
"0 RUDDIER than the cherry!
0 sweeter than the berry!
O nymph, more bright than moonshine
night,
Like kidlings, blithe and merry!"
sang Nathalie, in reminiscence of choral-class
practice in Handel's "Acis and Galatea";
"Ripe as the melting cluster,
No lily has such luster;
Yet hard to tame as raging flame,
And fierce as storms that bluster!"
"0 whiter than white trillium!"
improvised Fran teasingly;
"O sweeter than sweet-william!
O maid most rare since Helen fair
Made trouble in old Ilium!
"Thy cheek is ever ruddy,
Thy skin is never muddy!
Pray tell me how; by rite or vow,
I 'd fain make this a study! "
Fran's mocking voice rang out merrily in the
staccato notes, an octave higher than Nathalie's.
Nathalie looked up from the white linen
handkerchief which she was embroidering, and
laughed, as she threaded a very fine needle
with a bit of refractory silk. "I wish I could
do these initials as fast as you can make
rhymes," she said admiringly.
Don't you wish to hear my story for Rhet-
oric ?" Fran asked restlessly. Miss Folsom
said it must be a 'bit of pathos,' so perhaps


you '11 need your handkerchief there! Any-
way, it will be a change from that frisky song
you 've been rolling under your tongue like a
sweet morsel for the last hour!"
Nathalie, patient with Fran's mood, smiled
brightly, and listened as Fran read a half hu-
morous, half pathetic story of Western life.
"That is charming, Fran," Nathalie said, half
in smiles and half in tears, while Fran herself
gave a dab at each eye, under cover of the big
sheets of manuscript.
At this point Ruth came in with letters; and,
handing Fran two and Nathalie one, sat down
to read a chubby little one from Elsie.
Fran spent an hour reading the first one she
opened, although it was only two pages. She
looked so preoccupied that nothing was said
in the Bower-Ruth sewing and Nathalie taking
up her embroidery till she looked up and re-
marked, with a nonchalant sigh, Well, good-
by to Boffins' Bower! "
Then she walked across the room and flung
herself on the "Trojan Horse," staring hard at
Mona Lisa," which hung on the wall in line
with her eyes. She looks as if she had been
through things and understood them and ac-
cepted them! And she smiles that puzzling
smile, which says, 'You will know, too, some
day!'" she said aloud.'
"What is it, dearie ?" asked Ruth, thinking
better of her first intention to kiss Fran, and
sitting down on a hassock by the lounge.
"Oh, well," Fran answered defiantly, "no-
thing! Only father has lost everything he had
in the world. Poor mama! she thinks only
of me. She says, 'Come home, darling, and
we will try to get along some way. It breaks
my heart that you have to leave college.'"
Nathalie stepped out of the room, and Ruth
soon followed, having tried in vain to think of
something to comfort Fran. "Please do go
away, Ruthie," the obstinate girl said quietly.
" I 've got to think it out. It 's the very
strangest thing, but I was half thinking I would
leave college,-after our talk, you know, about
its disadvantages,-but now I would give any-
thing to stay!" And she turned her face to
the wall till Ruth was_ gone, when she jumped
up and locked the door.


(To be continued.)




















BY MARGARET JOHNSON.


I.
A STEP rang lightly on the stair; the palace
door-bell pealed;
The sleepy page came tumbling from his stool;



















"THE SLEEPY PAGE."
And a sudden radiance broke
Down the gloomy halls of oak,
For the little Princess Emmeline was coming
home from school.
In.
She hung her little mantle on a little golden peg,
Laid her books upon a little golden shelf,
Brushed her golden locks galore,
Tied her little pinafore,
And on tiptoe in the glass surveyed her royal
little self.


III.
Then she skipped across the corridor to find
her Queen mama;
But the pretty maid who met her at the sill,
With a rosy finger-tip
On her gravely pouting lip,
Warned her softly not to enter, for Her
Majesty was ill.


On the stair two
courtiers whis-
pered, pages
giggled in the
hall,
Lords and ladies
pacedthefloor
with anxious
looks;
And a group of
grave-browed
men,
Each with tab-
let, ink, and
pen,
In the council-
chambergath-
ered round a
table piled
with books.


v.
One and all they
bowed pro- "THE PRETTY MAID."
foundly as the
Princess, hurrying by,


lhe




Cleve


ri cess






THE CLEVER PRINCESS.


To the throne-room, where the King was
sitting, sped;
And the sunshine of her face
Brightened all the dreary place,
As she climbed his knee and hugged him
till the crown fell from his head.

VI.
"Well, my Emmy," said His Majesty (and
heaved a woeful sigh),
I am glad to see you home again, my dear."
"Now, papa the Princess said;
And he hung his guilty head,
For he could not keep his countenance before
her look severe.
r VII.
"Something 's
wrong," she
said. "I know
it You 're not
Y'^'"., ;glad, papa, at
all.
\I K-v'" If you '11 tell me, I
can help you,
dear, maybe."
S"You!" he cried.
'' "Sweet,simple
..s"'. ^5 child!"
S' And he stroked
'' her cheek,
and smiled,
With a sad, in-
dulgent pity
THE LITTLE PRINCESS, for her artless
EMMELINE." o er aess
vanity.
VIII.
Then she drew herself up proudly, with a
slightly quivering lip.
"I am in the Second Reader," she replied;
"And I know my tables, too."
Quoth the King, "Nay; that will do.
To my Emmy's tender ears the dismal tale
I will confide."

IX.
Putting on in sad abstraction up-
side down his royal
crown,
You must know, love," he began,
"this pleasant day,


"ON THE STAIR TWO COURTIERS WHISPERED.
When I 'd opened Parliament,
To the palace court I went,
Just one little game of tennis with Her Maj-
esty to play.

x.
"Fatal game! I served-or tried to; for
perhaps you are aware
That I 'm not, my dear-well, not an
expert yet.
Though I aimed the ball so nicely,
Yet it did n't go precisely
(Where I certainly supposed it would) across
the tennis-net.


"ONE AND ALL THEY BOWED PROFOUNDLY."






THE CLEVER PRINCESS.


XIV.
All in vain I argued with her; she was
calm, but positive.
So I asked a dozen lackeys, young and
old,
A professor and a peer,
S-All of whom were standing near,
And, believe me, every one of them a
.h' different story told.

xv.
S"Then I summoned all my councilors, I
/ called my cabinet,
And"-he paused to wipe the moisture
from his brow-
"I telephoned to town
For my lawyers to come down,
C And they 've been at work together
from that moment until now.

"'AS FOR ME, I LOST MY BALANCE."' XVI.

xi. They have reproduced the angle of the
"As for me, I lost my balance, and fell head- window and the net;
long to the ground.
Do not weep, my love, my injuries were
slight -
But a piercing scream arose,
As I staggered to my toes,
Which diverted my attention from my own
distressing plight. .i''


"For Her Majesty's small pleasure-house ,'d' i
stands just beyond the court,
And she vowed, with tears, that she had seen
the ball
Through the open window pass,
Where it must have smashed the glass
Of her favorite mirror opposite, against the
western wall.

XIII.
" I believed her much mistaken, for I had my
glasses on.
(Your mama is sometimes hasty, love, you
know.)
And I 'm certain, I may say,
That it went the other way;
So I pleasantly but plainly thought it right
to tell her so. "IT MUST HAVE SMASHED THE GLASS!"


5Io


APRIL,







THE CLEVER PRINCESS.


They have measured the momentum of the
ball;
They have weighed me and my jacket
And my royal tennis-racket,
And they cannot ascertain the truth about
it, after all.

XVII.
"Some declare the ball deflected to the right
or to the left,
And the glass escaped beyond a human
doubt;
But the others still insist
That it could n't have been missed;
And they 've turned the question up and
down and round and inside out.

XVIII.
"They made a map in sections, and a
dozen diagrams;
They consulted every language, live or
dead;
And they talked and talked until
Your mama was really ill,
And I felt my reason tottering, and from
their presence fled! "

XIx.
There was silence for a moment while
the Princess Emmeline
Leaned her royal little chin upon her
hand,
And with serious eyes cast down,
And a thoughtful little frown,
Strove with all her little might the puz-
zling tale to understand.

xx.
Then the King resumed, in accents still
more husky than before,
As he struggled his composure to recall:
"It is not the broken glass,
If indeed but let that pass;
'T is the terrible uncertainty that 's tor-
turing us all.


XXI.
I have lost my heart for business, and, I fear,
my appetite,
For the strain upon my feelings is immense;
And I 'd give my royal crown
To the courtier or the clown
Who would solve the hateful problem, and
thus free me from suspense.

XXII.
" Whether 't is or 't is n't so," he sobbed, "the
wisest can't decide;
It 's impossible to make their views agree."
"But," the little Princess said,
As she shook her curly head,
"For goodness sake, my dear papa, why don't
you go and see? "


___ _














TWO LITTLE AMERICANS AT THE COURT
KING CHRISTIAN IX.
(A True Story.)

By VIRGINIA YEAMAN REMNITZ.


IT was the day before the children's ball at
the palace that a maid-of-honor called at the
house of the American minister to invite Ellen
to attend. Ellen's elder brother, Hoyt, had
been looking forward to the event for two
weeks, but no children under eight were in-
vited, and Ellen was only seven-plainly too
young to go. So her mother had no expecta-
tions on the subject, and was well content to
leave her little girl at home. Especially con-
tent was she because Ellen's head had already
been slightly turned by royal flattery. The
queen, while walking one day, desired a lady
in attendance to ask the name of that pretty
little girl with black curls."
"Miss Ellen, the daughter of the American
Minister, madam," answered the nurse.
The Queen of Denmark has proved a wise
mother to her own daughters, but just then she
yielded to royal impulse, and, turning to Ellen,
said, Tell your mama that you are the pret-
tiest little girl in Copenhagen."
Ellen neither bowed nor answered. Her
great black eyes gazed into the blue ones
bent upon her, and she drew a deep draught
of pleasure. The next day her mother found
Ellen perched on a table before a great pier-
glass; and then the child told how the queen
had praised her.
This is why, when a maid-of-honor came
especially to invite Ellen to the ball, her mother
was somewhat disturbed, and said, We thank
Her Majesty for the invitation; but she is too
young to go."
"But the queen desires her presence," an-
swered the maid-of-honor.
"And now there is not time to make her a
dress," the mother added.
Something quite simple will answer; you


really must let her come"; and the maid-of-
honor rose to go, as though the matter were
quite settled.
The minister's wife and the seamstress sat
up late making a dainty muslin frock that
night, and the following morning, while it was
being tried on, Ellen received a drill in court
etiquette. If the king speaks to you, be sure,
when you answer, to call him Your Majesty-
do you hear, Ellen ?" for Ellen was evidently
intent upon her new frock.
"Yes, mama; and may I try on the pink
sash and slippers now, too ?"
Remember, Ellen," continued her mother,
" you must never turn your back on the king
or queen."
Thus the drill continued, with intermissions,
until the time that Ellen and Hoyt entered
the palace ball-room. Many children were
already there,-blue-eyed, flaxen-haired little
creatures; and though some were of royal
blood, and many were heirs of noble houses,
they were more simply dressed than ever were
children at a ball in any great American city.
When Ellen, cheeks aflame and dark eyes
dancing, stepped in with Hoyt and her mo-
ther, the queen was there, very simply and
cordially making her young guests welcome.
When she came to Ellen, she exclaimed:
Ah, here is my little friend!" and to El-
len's mother she said, I know your daughter
already. I gave her a message for you a few
days ago." To which the minister's wife an-
swered, smiling:
"Your Majesty's kindness flattered my little
girl greatly. I told her that while her black
hair is admired here, in America the golden
heads of the Danish children would be thought
more beautiful." This delicate suggestion to


OF






TWO LITTLE AMERICANS AT THE COURT OF KING CHRISTIAN IX. 513


herself and her little friend, the queen accepted
smilingly. Then, at an inclination of her ma-
jesty's head, the minister's wife courtesied, and
the queen turned to greet a group of children
who had just entered the room and stood
shyly clustered about their mother.
When it was time to open the ball, it appeared
that several of the boys were absent, among them
the youngest prince and Hoyt. Several maids-
of-honor immedi-
ately began a search
for the delinquent
partners, and hear-
ing sounds of laugh-
ing from an apart-
ment near by, they
quickly opened the
door. In the mid-
dle of the room,
surrounded by sev-
eral boys, was the
prince, his head on
the floor, and his
feet held aloft in
the air by Hoyt.
He was receiving
practical instruction
in the manly art of
standing on his I
head, but as yet was
unable to balance
himself without as- .''
distance. At the .
sound of the open- -
ing door, quick as
thought Hoyt loos- "ELLEN RESTED BETWEEN THE K
ened his grasp, the
prince reversed his position, and, almost be-
fore the maids-of-honor could see what was
going on, the boys stood ready to follow them
to the ball-room; and I do not know whether,
to this day, that prince of Denmark can stand
upon his head properly.
It was to Ellen a never-to-be-forgotten night.
The crowds of happy children; the great room,
brilliantly lighted; the strains of music; the
presence of a real king and queen-all com-
bined to make the scene a fairy-land, wherein
events took place which made Ellen feel her-
self a sort of fairy queen.
VOL. XXII.-65.


The king opened the ball with little Ellen.
Hardly understanding the honor, some sense of
it nevertheless thrilled her childish heart. She
could not even see his face, so tall was he, but
his strong arms bore her around and around,
she knew not how, for Ellen danced with as
little precision and method as the leaves on a
tree, or the ripples in a lake. Yet all through
her being she felt that she was dancing with the


ING AND QUEEN UNTIL SHE WAS READY TO DANCE AGAIN."
(SEE NEXT PAGE.)

king. It seemed but fitting, after that dance,
to find herself seated on the sofa between the
king and queen. With royal disregard to the
claims of other small guests, and with royal
indifference to the effect upon little Ellen, they
lifted her up between them. She looked pretty,
natural and unconscious, and was herself a little
queen in all her ways! While Ellen sat there,
too happy and pleased to feel proud, the other
children danced on. With no thought of imitat-
ing their elders in manner or motion, the young
dancers abandoned themselves with childish
freedom and simplicity to the enjoyment of the





TWO LITTLE AMERICANS AT THE COURT OF KING CHRISTIAN IX.


did you get your
pretty pink slippers,
Ellen? and she
opened her eyes.
Why was the. king
sitting beside her
II, and talking to her
when she was so
sleepy? She had a
confused idea that
he ought to put on
his crown, and sit on
a throne. "Please,
Mr. King, don't
over me; I 'm so
sleepy"; and Ellen,
turning her face up-
on royalty, slipped
away to her pleas-
ing dreams. "Lit-
tle Ellen, little Ellen,"
said the king mus-
ingly, "it is not often
that I hear the truth
so plainly told, and
it is refreshing to
my ears."
"ELLEN WAS EVIDENTLY INTENT UPON HER NEW FROCK." Ellen, having driven
away the intruding
hour. Those who never had been trained in monarch, remained undisturbed until it was
the different steps adapted their movements time for her to go home; and she did not
to the promptings of happy hearts and light really wake until next day.
feet, and were as contented as
the others. And little Ellen .
rested comfortably between
the king and queen until she
was ready to dance again.
The everiing wore on, and
Ellen was overcome with
weariness and sleep. Slipping
away from the children, who
now were whirling around in
some dizzy game, she threw
herself on a couch. Just as
the scene grew misty to her
eyes, and the dazzling events
of the evening began to weave
themselves into the suggestion
of a dream, she was aroused
by some one asking, "Where "'PLEASE, MR. KING, DON'T OVER ME; I 'M SO SLEEPY.'"


514.



































"GOODNESS me, there goes my hat! -
But I '11 not complain of that,"
Said dear old Doctor Ebenezer Bites.


"Though this wind is rough on me,
I am really glad to see
It's a most delightful wind for flying kites."


THE SONG OF THE METRO-GNOME.

BY ELSIE HILL.


HID in his funny, three-cornered home,
Lives the little brown Metro-gnome;
And always when Polly begins to play,
Here 's what the Metro-gnome seems to say:
Tick-tock Tick-tack!
Poor-little-aching back!
Patient hands, forced to glide
Up and down, inside:
Outside-golden gleams-
Sweet spring sunbeams.
Dull scales-drive her wild-
Dear- little -good-child !
Quick, quick! lazy clock!
Tock-tick! Tick-tock/"


But, as Herr Klugmann declares, 't is clear
Something is wrong with Miss Polly's ear;
For instead of the nonsense that fills her head,
Here 's what the Metro-gnome really said:
"Tock-tick Tock-tick!
Not so slow-that's too quick!
Tiresome child, listen to me,
Each scale is an elfin key,
Guarding close-treasure of song
Till Polly's fingers grow swift and strong.
But oh, when you idle time away,
Being a Metro-gnome does n't pay
Wanted: A place in an eight-day clock-
Tick--tock!"



































"GOODNESS me, there goes my hat! -
But I '11 not complain of that,"
Said dear old Doctor Ebenezer Bites.


"Though this wind is rough on me,
I am really glad to see
It's a most delightful wind for flying kites."


THE SONG OF THE METRO-GNOME.

BY ELSIE HILL.


HID in his funny, three-cornered home,
Lives the little brown Metro-gnome;
And always when Polly begins to play,
Here 's what the Metro-gnome seems to say:
Tick-tock Tick-tack!
Poor-little-aching back!
Patient hands, forced to glide
Up and down, inside:
Outside-golden gleams-
Sweet spring sunbeams.
Dull scales-drive her wild-
Dear- little -good-child !
Quick, quick! lazy clock!
Tock-tick! Tick-tock/"


But, as Herr Klugmann declares, 't is clear
Something is wrong with Miss Polly's ear;
For instead of the nonsense that fills her head,
Here 's what the Metro-gnome really said:
"Tock-tick Tock-tick!
Not so slow-that's too quick!
Tiresome child, listen to me,
Each scale is an elfin key,
Guarding close-treasure of song
Till Polly's fingers grow swift and strong.
But oh, when you idle time away,
Being a Metro-gnome does n't pay
Wanted: A place in an eight-day clock-
Tick--tock!"












A FAIRY TALE WITHOUT A MORAL.

BY ANNIE MATHESON.


YES, Annette had certainly lost her way.
She looked up the road, and down the road,
and on each side of the road: but all in vain.
In front of her she saw only the white, dusty
highway, shut in by hawthorn hedges in full
bloom, and tiring her weary little eyes in the
glare of the sunlight, till at last it ended in an
iron gateway and an avenue of tall trees. Be-
hind her she beheld the same dazzling, dusty
line stretching away, away into the dim, hazy
distance. And Annette was too small a person
to look over the heads of the blossoming haw-
thorns, and discover the country on each side
of her. She was a very little girl -not much
higher than the mile-stone she had just passed.
Her brown eyes looked out under a white sun-
bonnet above a white pinafore, and she carried
a large blue silk parasol, of which she was very
proud. It did not matter in the least to An-
nette that the parasol had a great slit down
the middle of it, and had therefore been put
away in the nursery cupboard for charades and
other like festivities. In her eyes it was a re-
splendent ornament; and, as she was going to
seek the fairies, she thought it would be well
to take it with her.
Annette's father had gone to "the city," and
her brothers and sisters were at school. Her
mother was "counting out her money," and
nurse was in the garden "hanging out the
clothes "; so Annette had walked serenely out
of the house, and down the lane, and across
the turnip-field, and into the road. She had
never been so far alone before, and she felt
quite grown up as she walked solemnly along
under her big parasol, with her dearest doll,
"Judy," under her arm. She had not gone far
before she had come to a place where two
ways met, and then she had been puzzled.
She had looked up at the guide-post and
down at her dusty little shoes; and then she had
appealed to the small thing under her left arm.


"Judy," she had said, "shall we take the
straight road or the twisty one ? The straight
one has hedges with sweet flowers all over
them, and the twisty one goes under trees
among daisies and buttercups."
Judy did not answer; but just at that mo-
ment a gentle old cow had come wandering
down the twisty" road, and without another
word Annette had taken the other turning. She
had walked on and on and on, with a growing
sense of expectation, until all at once she be-
gan to feel very tired, and to wonder where
she was. She did not know at all. In fact,
she had lost her way.
But Annette was not frightened. She was
rather a brave little girl, and she had no idea
that she was doing anything wrong. She had
never been forbidden to go out alone, and she
supposed she had a right to go and see the
fairies if she pleased. The thought had come
into her head, and she had not waited to tell
anybody. Of course that was a mistake; be-
cause little girls should always tell their fathers
and mothers when they go to seek the fairies,
in case the fairies should persuade them to
make too long a visit, and nobody should
know where to look for them. You see, An-
nette had not considered that.
Soon a little brown pony came trotting down
the road, and stopped when he was right in
front of her.
"Where are you going ? said the pony.
"I 'm going with Judy," replied Annette.
"We 're going to find the fairies."
The pony looked thoughtful. After a minute
he said, Get up on my back, both of you, and
I will take you."
"I don't think we can climb on," said An-
nette; "we're afraid -specially Judy."
"You need n't be at all afraid," answered
the pony. "I never kick. See: I will put
down my hind legs -so, and my fore legs -








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"'HOW DID YOU LIKE HIM?' ASKED THE GIANT." (SEE PAGE 519.)


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A FAIRY TALE WITHOUT A MORAL.


so, and you can take hold of my mane and
pull yourself up; only mind you don't drop
Judy." And so saying, the obliging pony
knelt down in the middle of the road, and'
waited for Annette to get up on his back.
After staring at him for a moment or two
in very great wonderment, Annette did as she
was told. When she was seated at last on the
middle of his shaggy brown back, he said, "Are


" THEN THE BIRD LAUGHED."


you comfortable -you and Judy?" And when
Annette answered, "Yes; quite comfortable,"
he advised her to hold fast by his mane with
both hands. Then he rose to his feet, turned
quietly round, and walked gently along in the
opposite direction.
"I did n't know ponies could talk," said
Annette.
"Nobody knows anything," said the pony.
"Oh, yes, they do," said Annette. "My
mama knows a great deal, and my papa knows
everything."
Does he know the fairies? asked the pony.
He knows a great deal about them- spe-
cially Puck."
He 's a mischief, that Puck. He gets on
to my back every night, and rides me over the
moon and in and out among the stars."
"Oh!" said Annette; but she did not alto-
gether believe it. I am afraid you are a very


wicked pony," she said; I am afraid you tell
stories."
"Yes," said the pony, "I do; but nobody
believes them."
Dear me !" said Annette. "Please let me
get down 'directly. Judy does n't like wicked
ponies-I 'm afraid she '11 cry."
"I 'm not a pony," answered the strange
creature; "I 'm a bird." And before Annette
had time to think, she found her-
self seated between the wings of
a beautiful strong bird, flying
through the sweet spring air as
fast as the wind.
Tell me your name," she said.
It is all such a jumble, and I
don't quite know which you are,
and which is Judy, and which is
me. Do you know, I think Judy
would like to go home; but I am
not quite sure-it all look' so
lovely from up here, and the air
makes me laugh, we go through it
so quickly."
Is n't it nice ? said the bird.
"I always did like flying best."
Annette looked down on the
fair round world. Underneath
her the fields and woods and
rivers lay spread out like a map.
"Do you know any giants, Bird ?" she in-
quired.
"What makes you ask me that ?"
"I was thinking how different everything
looked up here."
But what has that to do with giants ? "
Why, it must look just so to them, because
their heads are so high up in the air-but I
should like to see a giant, and so would Judy."
Then the bird laughed. Annette had never
heard a bird laugh before.
"You shall see a giant before long," he said.
Annette began to tremble, and the bird
laughed still more, and flew lower and nearer
to the earth, while Annette held Judy closer.
All at once she heard a sound of great crash-
ing footsteps -behind her, and a voice like a
thunderstorm cried out to her: Why did you
drop your parasol, little girl? Little girls
should n't drop their parasols."


[APRIL,






A FAIRY TALE WITHOUT A MORAL.


Annette was frightened, and shut her eyes
tight lest she should see something dreadful.
Open your eyes, little girl," cried the same
loud voice; and then Annette found herself in
the hands of a great bearded giant.
"Ha! ha!" he said; "so you are afraid of
me, little girl, are you? Well, I 've got your
parasol quite safely in my pocket, and that 's
where I shall put you."
The strange bird had flown away, and An-
nette could only hold tight on to Judy and
hope that the giant's pocket would not be very
dark. She found it very dark and very soft
and very warm, and soon fell fast asleep.
When she awoke she found herself in a large,
brightly lighted cave. The giant was holding
her in his hand and looking at her intently.
"Why, I could swallow you up at a mouthful,"
he said. But he smiled so gently all the time
that Annette did not believe he meant it.
Gallipots, bring this dainty morsel some
food."
Gallipots, the giant's servant, went to a table,
in the corner of the cave, where there stood a
huge plum-cake from which he cut an enormous
slice, and brought it on a trencher to the giant
who seemed to be much amused. To him An-
nette was a mere Hop-o'-my-Thumb. He set
her down on the trencher, and bade her nibble
away at the great wall of cake which rose up in
front of her. Annette broke off a modest little
bit between her thumb and finger, and, sitting
down on the rim of the plate, began to eat it.
Well, and how did you like Puck ? asked
the giant. Annette looked at him wonderingly.
"That was Puck, you know, who was riding
off with you. He can change into any shape
he pleases. How did you like him?"
"Quite well, thank you," said Annette,
vaguely; for she was very much astonished.
Then the giant laughed a great roaring laugh,
and he set the trencher down on the floor, with
Annette upon it, and bade her finish the cake
while he went out to pull up a few trees by way
of sport.
Gallipots vanished too, and the door to the
cave closed with a click of the bolt, which
made Annette feel as if she were in a prison.
Presently a beautiful white cat came and
rubbed his nose against her hand, and begged


for a bit of cake. Annette gave it to him, and
stroked him gently with one hand while she
held Judy with the other.
"I 'm Puck, you know," said the cat. "I
thought I 'd better come and look after you
a bit. Shall we go and visit the fairies now,
or shall we go home to your mother ?"
Annette thought for a minute, and then she
said, "Thank you; I think I '11 go home."
"Then shut your eyes and take hold of my
left ear," said the cat; "and mind you do just
what I tell you. Stoop down a little, we must
go through this hole." Annette stooped down,
and crept after him for several yards.
You can open your eyes now," said the cat;
"and please stop pinching my ear, will you? "
Annette opened her eyes, and found herself
in a lovely wood among crowds of hyacinths.
The stars were peeping through the branches
overhead, and at her side stood an elfin boy with
bright, laughing eyes and rainbow wings. She
knew at once that it was Puck. "Hush!" he
said. "Stand behind this tree, and you will
see the queen pass."
He led Annette behind a big beech-tree, and
soon she saw what seemed to her like a proces-
sion of flowers, all laughing and talking together
in the sweetest of voices.
The fairy queen, who rode upon a white
moth, was clad from head to foot in moon-
beams, and she was so dazzlingly beautiful that
Annette could not look at her without winking.
Peas-blossom," cried the queen, "where is
Puck? "
Then Puck darted away from Annette, and
a silvery mist passed across the little girl's eyes,
and she fell into a deep sleep.
She was aroused by the sound of the tea-bell,
and found herself curled up in her mother's lap.
She looked round the room, and felt as if she
had been away for twenty years. Then she
looked down on her mother's knee to see
whether Judy was safe. And at last she rubbed
her eyes, and looked up at her mother, and
wondered how she should ever be able to tell
her everything.
"Mama," she said, "where is my blue
parasol ? "
"My dear little girl," replied her mother,
"we found it in the water-butt."







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


JA CK-IN-T HE-P ULPIT.

SHALL I confess it? Your Jack has been taking
a nap or two, of late, and the congregation, con-
sequently, has been unusually awake. But then
of what use is it to.be awake if one gets no sermon ?

SPRING is here," says the almanac; "warmer,
frequent light showers," says the weather report;
"April fools cry my merry young folk on the
First if a good opportunity can be secured:-
and "April!" says ST. NICHOLAS, even before
March is fairly over.
Then April it is, my hearers, and April it shall
be. The fools of the first day will be keener-witted
on the second, and sudden showers will write their
slanting Spring messages upon the sunny air to
every one's surprise and expectation, as has been
April's way for ages.
But your Jack is now a wide-awake Jack, and -
having the Deacon and the Little Schoolma'am close
at hand, he is a learned Jack, as Jacks go. In
proof whereof here is an original clipping just laid
upon this pulpit which will startle you, my hearers.
Study it, my little lightning calculators, and you
will see that an April shower, though over in ten
minutes, may be quite a weighty matter after all.
Few people can form a definite idea of what is in-
volved in the expression, An inch of rain." It may aid
such to follow this curious calculation: An acre is equal
to 6,272,640 square inches: an inch deep of water on
this area will be as many cubic inches of water, which, at
277 to the gallon, is 22,000 gallons. This immense quan-
tity of water will weigh 220,000 pounds, or loo tons.
One hundredth of an inch (o.oi) alone is equal to one ton
of water to the acre. The measures are English.
A FLORIDA LEAF.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In my cabinet is
a curious thing that I think all your young friends


would like to see. Some months ago a friend
brought me a few withered flowers in memory of a
visit to one of the beautiful private gardens of
Florida. Among the collection was a thick leaf
that seemed still fresh. This I put into my cabinet
and forgot, until one morning I noticed a bunch of
delicate green stalks on the shelf. I examined,
and behold from every point of the original leaf
grew a little plant. These I carefully watched
from day to day, until now there is quite a minia-
ture forest, six or eight inches high, growing round
the old leaf.
Now, who can give me the name of this leaf or
plant ? LUTIE E. D-.

REFLECTIONS OF A CAT.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Is there a catnip
bed in your meadow, and do cats ever roll in it?
If they do, they are sure to purr; and whenever
a cat purrs, it is thinking. I am sure of it. Here
are some cat-thoughts that I found printed in an
old newspaper. I read them to my cat, and while
I read she purred, and purred as though she agreed
with every word.
Your sincere friend, AMY G- .

The old maid is the cat's good Samaritan.
If it were not for rats and mice, I should be an
outcast.
I think I have a pretty nose when it is well
rubbed.
I am blamed for a great many things the hired
girl breaks.
In all my experience I never saw a cat on our
back fence hit by a bootjack.
When people wish to sit down, they never see
that I am asleep in the chair.
If I had n't claws, the small boy would find no
fun in pulling my tail.
The missis and I can never agree as to the place
where I shall bring up my kittens.
No one but a cat knows how we always manage
to land on our feet.

THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT.
THE Little Schoolma'am requests me to say that
the answer to Voltaire's riddle given from this pulpit
last month is, simply, "Time."

LEVEL-HEADED DOGS AND BEES.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I have been read-
ing about Mexico, and have learned to my surprise
that on account of the hot climate the native dog
has no hair on any part of its body. Mother Na-
ture, it seems, has kindly taken off his coat, for the
simple reason that he does not need ofne. Also, for
a similar reason, there are no little busy bees in
that sunny country. Flowers they always can find,
the whole year through, and so they very sensibly
take life easy, and do not lay up any honey.
Now, will some of your hearers who live in Mex-
ico, or who have been there, please tell us whether
they can testify to the truth of these statements
or not? Yours truly, A CONSTANT READER.


520


[APRIL,







JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.


A CREATURE WITH MANY HEADS.
(The drawings arefrom specimens in the Museum ofNatural
History.)
IT was believed in ancient times that in a certain
part of a lake or marsh called Lerna, in Greece,
there once lived a horrible serpent or dragon, known
as Hydra. This serpent, it was said, had a great
many heads, all armed with poisonous fangs; but
the strangest and most terrible part of the story
ran, that no one, however
strong or brave, might hope
to kill it, for as soon as one
of the terrible heads was
cut off, another grew in its
place. At last, after many
had fallen a victim to the
monster, it was slain by a USso-cMe-GRE s
hero named Hercules, who, MAGNIFn SHOWM
with a burning brand, LASs COILEBaup
scorched the necks, after he WITh.
had cut off its heads, and
so kept them from growing
again. Now there is, really
and truly, to be found in
ponds, marshes, and lakes; all over our own
country, an animal, also called hydra, that,
in everything but size, is far more wonderful
than its namesake. In the first place it
not only does not hurt the real hydra to
have its heads cut off, but, if left alone,
they will finally drop off of themselves and
new ones will grow to take their places;
and, what is more, the heads that have come
off the animal are hydras in their turn, and
grow more heads Nor is this all, for in the
second place, a hydra can be cut in pieces, sliced
up lengthwise, or even turned inside out without
killing it. All the fragments into which it is cut
set up business for themselves and become com-
plete hydras, and, when the creatures are turned
inside out, the lining of the stomach becomes the
outside skin, and the outside skin becomes in
turn the lining of the stomach. One of the most
wonderful facts relating to the hydra is that its
fangs instead of being in its mouth are in its arms,
of which it has from six to eight in a row around
its mouth, and these turn and curl and twist in
search of prey.
Whenever in the course of aquatic events any
unfortunate little creature fit for the hydra's food
comes within reach, it is secured and thrust into
the mouth and devoured; for these arms have
all the power of serpents, to strike, hold, and
poison their prey. They are not called fangs,
but lassoes, because they consist of long hollow
threads. These lassoes are kept neatly coiled up
ready for use, in little sacks or cells buried in the
skin of the animal. Here are two sacks one inside
the other (see illustration); the outside sack is per-
fect and complete, but the inside sack is turned or
folded down in upon itself. One end of this inner
sa-k, you see, narrows into a neck, a rather large
neck or tube to begin with, but one that soon
grows very much smaller and becomes the long
thread-tube of the lasso which lies coiled up in its
VOL. XXII.-66.


nest like the little living serpent it is, quite ready
to bite. As soon as anything touches the mouth of
the sack the lasso shoots out and stings, and possibly
the thicker part, with its hooks, buries itself in the
flesh of the victim, and the liquid venom from the
sack flows through the hollow lasso into the wound.
The lasso cells are so near together that it is im-
possible to touch one without at the same time
coming in contact with a number of them, so that
not one alone, but many lassoes are shot out at the
same time. Other tentacles now come into
play; the victim, stung in many places,
"faints," and the hydra secures its prey.
Having been once employed, the sacks are
useless, as the discharged lassoes cannot be
withdrawn into the sacks. The hydia some-
times breaks into two parts, each part becom-
.AssO CELL-ATE ing a perfect animal. It lays eggs, too
BUssnT as ea but the hydra's favorite way
SLASSO r of raising itself a family
) is by growing more
heads. In this case
Sa bud starts as a


small rounded swelling
on the body of the par-
ent; it grows longer and e
becomes a stem, upon
which is produced a cir-
cle of tentacles. No- i
thing more is required to LIVING HYDRA
make it a complete hy- INTHECACT-rTtPNHt-orr.yu.
dra, and it sets up in busi- -Hruo SBUo.
ness on its own account
catching and eating its own prey. Beforeitseparates
from its parent, however, a bud may appear upon
it, grow into a perfect animal, which buds out into
a third, and the third into a fourth hydra, all, child,
parent, grandparent, great-grandparent, living and
connected as the trunk, branches, stems, and blos-
soms of a plant. J. CARTER BEARD.

Thank you, very much, Mr. Beard. Every boy
in this congregation may now become a hero-and
conquer his Hydra if he should meet one. Your
hydra has the advantage of being a fact in the
present, while the Hydra of mythology is only a
fable in the depths of the past.






RHYMES OF THE STATES.

By GARRETT NEWKIRK.


Fair Michigan's Peninsulas
SGreat lakes almost surround;
A woodman's heavy mitt and cap
.Are in the outlines found.

IThe northern part is widely known
For copper- and iron-mines;
LThe southern part for grain and fruit,
And groves of noble pines.

Within the Straits of Mackinac
Behold an island' fair-
The loveliest place among the lakes
To breathe the summer air.


The fine old city of Detroit
Is on historic ground;
The University of the State
Is at Ann Arbor found.
y^-~"'~~
@'IT


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i


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ILI..1NOQ I






RHYMES OF THE STATES.


The Illinois, an Indian tribe
Once numerous and great,
Were all destroyed, but left their name -e
To a river and a State.

T is sometimes called the Prairie State,
The soil is rich and fine;
Her pastures green are dotted o'er
With horses, cows, and swine.

Chicago, Queen of Illinois,
Each rival has surpassed;
Her clothes are never big enough
Because she grows so fast.

A great World's Fair Chicago held
Not very long ago;
Beside the lake grand palaces
By magic seemed to grow.


K---'


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-----------V-~


MARBLE-TIME. THE CHAMPION'S TURN.




THE LETTER-BOX.


HORNELLSVILLE, N. Y,.
DEAR St. NICHOLAS: I like you very much. My
father is a druggist. In the store window on Thanks-
giving there was a bear-trap, but papa called it a Michi-
gan mouse-trap." The stories I like best in the December
ST. NICHOLAS are "Santa Claus's Pathway," President
for One Hour," Chris and the Wonderful Lamp," and
"The Martyrdom of a Poet." I am always glad when
you come.
I remain one of your many readers,
ELMA M-.


A CORRESPONDENT of Atlanta, Ga., sends us the fol-
lowing sentence as a test of spelling, in response to our
inquiry in the February Letter-Box:
The unsympathizing satellites of an ancient sibyl, per-
ceiving a sacrificial augur surrounded with stationery,
who maintained sacrilegiously by rhythmical innuendoes
the incomprehensibility of being agreeably benefited by
the maintenance of an unwieldy plebeian upon a pre-
paratory dietary of peeled monkeys which had been com-
bated with a poniard, the hemorrhage necessarily dyeing
their whiskers with vermeil hues, and tingeing homo-
geneously with porphyritic tints even the symmetrical
archetypes which affectionately separated the sophistical
gaugers from the harassed cobblers, whereupon a peddler's
monkey, seized with ecstasy, ate the solder from a basin,
to the unfeigned embarrassment of the superintendent,
who was balancing himself with unparalleled judgment
on a stationary trestle-work with an auger in one hand
and a leveling-instrument in the other, the cynosure of
unprejudiced neighboring pigeons and partridges.

ANOTHER friend sends this letter upon the same
subject:
BROOKLINE, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think the following para-
graph is the one you asked for in the February Letter-
Box. There are also several others equally good in the
book in which I find this:


The most skilful gauger I ever knew was a maligned
cobbler armed with a poniard, who drove a peddler's
wagon, using a mullein-stock as an instrument of coer-
cion, to tyrannize over his pony shod with calks. He
was a Galilean Sadducee, and had a phthisicky catarrh,
diphtheria, and the bilious intermittent erysipelas.
"A certain sibyl, with the sobriquet of Gipsy,' went
into ecstasies of cachinnation at seeing him measure a
bushel of peas, and separate saccharine tomatoes from a
heap of peeled potatoes without dyeing or singeing the
ignitible queue which he wore, or becoming paralyzed
with a hemorrhage. Lifting her eyes to the ceiling of
the cupola of the capitol, to conceal her unparalleled em-
barrassment, making a rough courtesy and not harass-
ing him with mystifying, rarefying, and stupefying in-
nuendoes, she gave him a bouquet of lilies, mignonette,
and fuchsias, a treatise on mnemonics, a copy of the
Apocrypha in hieroglyphics, daguerreotypes of Mendels-
sohn and Kosciusko, a kaleidoscope, a drachm-phial of
ipecacuanha, a teaspoonful of naphtha, for deleting pur-
poses, a ferule, a clarionet, some licorice, a surcingle, a
carnelian of symmetrical proportions, a chronometer
with movable balance-wheel, a box of dominoes, and a
catechism. The gauger, who was also a trafficking rec-
tifier, and a parishioner of mine, preferring a woolen
surtout (his choice was referable to a vacillating, occa-
sionally-recurring idiosyncrasy), woefully uttered this
apothegm: 'Life is checkered; but schisms, apostasy,
heresy, and villainy shall be punished.' The sibyl
apologizingly answered: There is ratably an allegeable
difference between a conferrable ellipsis and a trisyl-
labic dieresis.' We replied in trochees, not impugning
her suspicion." HELEN C. MCC- .


BALTIMORE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mama gave you to me one
year for a Christmas present, and I enjoy reading your
stories very much. There are many interesting places
in this city. Among them is Druid Hill Park. There
is a beautiful road that leads from one of the entrances to
the "Mansion." The Mansion, which formerly was a







THE LETTER-BOX.


private house, is now used as a hotel. Not very
far from the Madison Avenae entrance is a statue re-
cently erected to the memory of Sir William Wallace.
There are some very fine tennis-courts in the park near
the Palm House. In the evening, after the games are
over, a great many players row on the boat-lake, and
they make a very pretty sight. I am very fond of poetry,
and I study nearly all of the poems which appear in your
numbers. I recited The Boy's Cartoon" in school, and
both my teacher and classmates thought it very pretty.
I think the picture of Eutaw Place, in the August num-
ber for 1893, is very good. Excursion boats go from this
city every day to various places on the eastern shore.
I have taken you for two or three years, but have never
written to you before. Hoping to see this in print, I
remain your devoted reader, JEAN E-- .


MERAN, AUSTRIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are living in a beautiful old
castle on a hill, about two miles out of Meran, called
Schloss Labers, wifh dear little peasants' chalets all
about on the hills. Behind the house there is hardly
anything but wooded hills, and in front a beautiful view
of Meran with the mountains in the background. On
all the neighboring mountain-sides there are castles and
castles. One or two made into pensions and the rest
private residences. One of them belongs to Karl Lud-
wig, the brother of Kaiser Franz-Josef of Austria.
There was such a nice thing here, a little while ago:
an open-air theater; but now it is too cold for it to be
kept up any longer this season. They played once a
week a piece called the "Tyrolese Heroes." It was the
most beautiful performance I have ever seen, I think, for
instead of having poor, painted scenes, they had the real,
grand Tyrolese mountains.
I have a dear little pug-dog, but because he has a
strain of fox-terrier in him he will probably never grow
as fat as the pugs usually are. "Bijou" can jump quite a
good deal higher than he himself is; can sneeze, speak
loud (barking), speak softly (whining), and roll over,
when told. He can drag a cart, too, as the German
dogs do, with my dolls in it. When he gets tired he sits
down (very un-horselike, by the way), and then my little
seven-year-old brother promptly pulls him up by the
tail. He is very intelligent, and when I take down my
hat from the hat-rack he begins to sneeze violently,
waiting at the door anxiously for fear I may not take him
to walk. About twenty minutes from here there is a
saw-mill, and some times we go over there and play in
the saw-dust bin. Sam and I bury Bijou right up to
the chin, which he does n't like very much, and when he
is set free it is rather hard to get him to let it be done
again. He 's very good-natured, though, and lets us do
almost anything we like with him.
Wishing you long life and success, I am your inter-
ested reader, FAITH P-

Fox CHASE, PA.
DEAR OLD ST. NICH.: We are three little country
girls, and live about half a mile apart, in two of the old-
est houses in the country, named Birwood and Ury.
In the year 1600 our houses were used as forts by the
Swedes while fighting with the Indians.
Not long ago, we found a couple of cannon-balls in the
cellar wall.
George Washington once dined in one of our houses,
which was considered a great event by our grandmothers.
We look forward to the coming of ST. NICHOLAS with
joy every month.
We remain ever your loving friends.
CLIFFORD, JESSIE, and SARITA.


CORK, IRELAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy of ten years and a
month. My father is a lieutenant in the British Army.
We have been in Natal, Cape Colony. And when we
were coming across to England, we saw at Madeira little
boys who dived to the bottom of the sea. At Africa the
place is very hot. Oranges, lemons, and grapes grow
there. I am much interested in your magazine.
I am your interested reader. J. H. W--



SAN JOSt, COSTA RICA, CENTRAL AMERICA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder how many of your
little readers have seen and picked coffee ? Here in Costa
Rica there are big coffee-plantations. We had one our-
selves, and in the season we used to go and pick it. The
coffee season is in December. The coffee is picked by
men, women, and children. It is something like the
grape-picking in Italy. The natives dress very queerly;
they wear a petticoat, a skirt, and a waist that has no
sleeves. They speak Spanish. I have music lessons,
and in February will have violin lessons. I myself
speak English, German, Spanish, and I am learning
French.
Last week we had feasts. Every year on the thirtieth
and thirty-first of December, and first of January, there
are all kinds of music and fun-it is like the Fourth of
July. Costa Rica's Independence day is September 15.
I remain your loving reader. LILLY M. D-


BALTIMORE, MD.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Soon after the New Year
number of your magazine arrived, a friend of mine
received a gift from Florida, in the shape of a small al-
ligator. We had much fun over the article entitled
"Beelzebub." Here the very same thing had happened
in our family. Much to the ainusement of our friends,
he was immediately christened ," Beelzebub." Thanks
to the hints in your delightful paper, he is thriving very
nicely.
I noticed in the Letter-Box" a note from Elizabeth
M. B- who possesses the spoons of Decatur. We,
fortunately, have two large salt-cellars belonging to
George Washington. They have his coat-of-arms on
one side, and are very oddly decorated on the other.
Any one in our household wishing to eat "porridge,"
may eat it out of a bowl over one hundred years old,
with a spoon that was made in the time of George III.
We have a fine "antique flavor among us, have we
not? Wishing you many years of prosperity,
I am yours very truly, LUCILE W. C-


CHARLEROI, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In our quiet home ST. NICH-
OLAS is welcomed with greater pleasure than any other
magazine or paper, from our eighteen-year-old brother
down to our six-year-old baby brother. I am eleven
years old, and have taken my recitations from the ST.
NICHOLAS. When I read" Nan Merrifield's Choice," I
thought I would do my best for Abraham Lincoln, so I
committed his Gettysburg address. When I stepped
on the platform, and linked both hands behind me, and
recited the beautiful address, I imagined I saw Judge
Lane nodding approval. I know my mama did.
Hoping that you may live forever, and do other little
girls as much good as you have done me,
Your loving reader, ALATHEA M-
'P.S.- My mama gave me Lincoln's autograph.


525







THE LETTER-BOX.


Fox RIVER, GASPE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Through the kindness of a
good brother-in-law, I have been receiving your maga-
zine for over four years, and the more I read it the
more I love it. I live in a very quiet country place in
Lower Canada, called Gaspe. Have you ever heard of
such a place? I am eleven years old. I am very lonely
at times, as I have no sisters to play with. I had one,
but she is married, and gone away to live in Montreal.
I have one big brother at home, eighteen years old. We
have great fun together. We have lots of ice and snow
here generally, but this winter we have very little so far,
and no ice at all. I am very sorry, as I like the winter
very much. I go to school. I can also play the piano.
Every summer I go to Montreal, and I like the place
very much. Our house faces the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
My brother Edgar loves shooting, and kills wild sea-
birds very often.
May you live long, dear ST. NICHOLAS.
I remain yours affectionately,
WILHELMINA S. L- .


DRESDEN, SAXONY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Ever since I was able to read,
I have faithftilly read your valuable magazine, and I
am now a boy of fourteen years, and still a constant
reader.
I was born in Alameda, California, and have been at
school in Germany since my eighth year. For the first
three years I was at a boarding-school in Wuerzburg,
Bavaria. My brother and I were the only ones who
spoke English at that school, and we might have for-
gotten our native language, had it not been for your
magazine, which our dear parents kept sending us.
Even now we speak better German than English. After
our parents had finished their travels on the Continent,
they took us to Dresden, where we are now living.
I am working very hard to get through with the
school, so that our exile from our beloved country,
America, will thereby be shortened. We observe all
American holidays most faithfully, the only one which
we cannot celebrate properly is the Fourth of July, for
there is no noise allowed here.
Dresden is a lovely city. Its gallery, museum, and
the like, where entrance is free many days of the week
and on Sundays, are an education in themselves.
In the December number of ST. NICH., just received,
is a description of an American fire-department. We
were much amused in comparing the way the American
and the Dresden fire-laddies turn out. All of a sud-
den you hear a horn blowing a toot-toot, which, when
once heard, is never forgotten. The wagons, etc., get
out of the way, and around the corner come three or four
teams at a breakneck pace, as they think, but you can
easily run alongside, if you care to. Usually there are
one or two hook-and-ladder companies, and a hose-cart;
they have no fire-engines, but a hand-pump. Arrived
at the place of fire, which every time I have witnessed
one-has already been put out by the inmates of the house,
the firemen, attired in a dark-green uniform, with a
hatchet dangling by the side, act as at a drill, moving
only at a command. After a detachment has examined,
and reported that there is nothing to do, an officer blows
a whistle, they all mount; another whistle is blown and
off they go, leaving an awe-stricken and admiring crowd
behind them.
I remain always your interested reader.
A. A-.


A TRUE STORY.
(Printed just as it was written.)
WE have a Farm of 'bout an acre,
(Or, at least, we call it one;)
The house, is a large old rambling place;
But the barn, is the place for fun.

The hay, piled up to the beams above
Through which we love to crawl;
And many attractions' down below;
One, is Buttercup in her stall.

The dear old cow, is gentle as a lamb,
But as every one must fail,
She had a fault, like all the rest,
And would put her foot in the pail.

In vain did we try to stop this trick;
We tied her feet with rope,
We -fastened her tail to the side of the wall,
But with all, not a bit of hope.

And if by chance papa had to milk,
(The girl sometimes got sick)
Buttercup seemed to know her chance,
And would raise the very "old Nick."

At last there came an Irish girl,
(The other one went one day;)
She sat down to milk, and commenced to Croon.
The cow was charmed right away.

And ever since that lucky time,
When that Crooning song is sung,
The ropes on her feet are taken away,
And now, she is A No I.

So Farmers, all who have kicking cows,
I '11 give you a speck of advice;
Just get a Crooning Irish girl,
And she '11 charm them in a trice.
SADIE M. H-
(Twelve years old.)


WE thank the young friends whose names follow, for
pleasant letters received from them: Wm. D. C., Hally
B. M., Lizzie B. L., Alvin J., Harry C. M., Edith McM.,
"Lady Edith," Beulah K., Victor C., Mabel C., Mary
B. W., Edward F. P., Helena S. D., Mabel B., Arthur
H., Harold S. G., Marjorie S., W. Noble B., Fanny P.,
Geo. D., Jeanie B. P., Mabel S. C., William S., U. C.
P., Claire S. H., Berthany F. A., Leslie V. C., Audrey
H., Pussie M. and Bessie A., Annie A. B., Olaf T., Alice
M. J., Hubert O. J., Matthew M. C., Mamie W. D. S.,
Elizabeth C. A., Sylvia P., Florence A. P., Jean H., Ber-
tha D.,Virginia W.W.,Adelaide H., T. Harold T.," M.,"
Marie J. S., E. W. A., Adelaide W. E., Therese D. M.,
Rende M. H., Nina J. W., Wilhelmina S. L., John F.,
Jean S. O., Henriette G. J., Bessie E. M., Lachita G.,
W. D. F., Margaret de G. H., Ava R., Charles A. G.,
Augusta I. C., Alma R., Helen H., Emily M. W., Ed-
ward S. S., Dorothea G., Pierre M., Eileen McC., Nelson
W., Hugh McC., Herbert T. W., Elsie I. G., H. E. H.
Jr., Angel and Fred. B., Morris and Gertrude E. H.,
Kate S. B., F. R., Eugene M. B.


526








THE RIDDLE-BOX.


ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER.


ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Primals, Keats. i. Kanga-
roo. a. Eagle. 3. Alligator. 4. Turtle. 5. Snail.
ZIGZAG. Saint Patrick's Day. Cross-words: I. sane. 2. bane.
3. slit. 4. fawn. 5. kite. 6. apex. 7. also. 8. atom. 9. curb.
io. Lodi. ix. inch. 12. akin. 13. scan. 14. eddy. 15. fray. x6. cloy.
OCTAGON: I. Ant. 2. About 3. Notre. 4. Turin. 5. Ten.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. It is better to suffer wrong than to do it,
and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust."
ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. Pascal. i. Pigeon. 2. Rabbit. 3. Pis-
tol. 4. Abacus. 5. Sandal. 6. Mussel.
PI. O, sad-voiced winds that sigh about my door!
I mourn with ye the hours that are no more.
My heart is weary of the sullen sky,
The leafless branches and the frozen plain;
I long to hear the earliest wild-bird's cry,
And see the earth in gladsome green again.


NOVEL ACROSTIC. Longfellow. Cross-words: I. Snail. 2. Negro.
3. Stint. 4. Badge. 5. Puffs. 6. Bleak. 7. Slice. 8. Along. 9. Ounce.
to. Weeds.
RIDDLE. A peel, appeal, a peal.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Limicoline. Cross-words: i. shallop. 2. di-
vided. 3. scamper. 4. soliped. 5. blacken. 6. unbound. 7. stilted.
8. divined. 9. slander. so. incense.
RHYMED TRANSPOSITIONS. Repast, tapers, paters, parest, prates,
praste, paster.
MISPLACED NUMBERS. Physics, before, often, into, canine, char-
ity, create.
FALSE COMPARATIVES. I. Sauce, saucer. 2.aWart, water. 3. Tart,
tartar, 4. Butt, butter. 5. Bat, batter. 6. Mat, matter. 7. Neck,
Neckar. 8. Rome, roamer. 9. Mart, martyr. io. Hawk, hawker.


To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January x5th, from M. McG.- Helen C. Ben-
nett-Mama and Jamie- Ella and Co. Paul Reese- Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.- Helen C. McCleary W. L.- Mary Lester and
Harry-A. M. J.-Josephine Sherwood-Fletcher Chaps-T. H. R.-Louise InghamAdams-L. O. E.-"Jersey Quartette"-Wal-
ter Haight-- G. B. D. and M.- Mabel, Margery, and Henri -" The Tivoli Gang"- Mama and Helen-- Marguerite Sturdy Mewyn
and William Palmer-" Will O. Tree"-Embla"-Jo and I -" Highmount Girls"- Harold and Percy -" The Big Four-" James
family "- Sigourney Fay Nininger Marjory Gane -"Hilltop Farm"-" Duck "-Lyle E. Mahan -" Tod and Yam "-Blanche and
Fred Ida Carleton Thallon -Paul Rowley Harry and Roy Williams-" The Butterflies."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 15th, from A. C. R., i- Marian Townsend and Mary
Clark, Everett T. Spinning, I Herbert A. Snow, x -" Mistletoe," i -"Princess Goldenhair,"I Mary S. Compton, i Lulu Hoff-
mann, --G. B. Dyer, xo-C. N. Briggs, I-C. W. Wickersham, i-Lois Young, i-Myra Stephens, I-Alma Maass, I-Mary
Wood, i-John R. Kuhlke, Carl Riley, --Belle Harrigan, --Warren M. Newcomb, -NarclssaH. Niblack, --Waverly Bax-
ter, i Irma F. Rothschild, I Francis W. Honeycutt, I Isabel I. Drury, i Ella J. Darling, i Carrie de F. P., I -" King," 3 -
Ella J. M., i- Mama and L. W. F. 4- Lawrence Crockett, I Victor J. West, a- Prudie Hitchcock, I Kathleen Comstock, I -
"Berkshire Grimalkin," I No Name, Lawrence Ave., Roxbury, x Augusta Gardner, I--" Four Weeks," so- Helen Koerper, I
- Morris Schwarzschild, i Xena Crawford, i Eugene T. Walter, 2 Mary Caruso, I Mama and Sadie, 7- Thomas O. Hatch, I -
S. M. Chandler, I--Cora and Daisy, I-Paul Chamberlain, I--Karl Smith and Edna May, --Bessie Dockstader, I- Hugh B.
Robinson, 3-Mabel Riney, 2-No Name, Towanda, Pa., 4-Blanche Garlock, i-"The Twin M's., x-Adelaide M. Gather, 2-
Franklyn, Farnsworth, 8-F. C. Burke, -Horace E. Hayden, Jr., 2- Bertha and Mary, --H. S. W., 6-C. W. Fellows, I-Jay
Fay, Mabel Wilson Owens, Julia A. Bennett, -Joseph Nelson Carter, 6- Helen S. Coats, 2- Martha W. Lucas, Pearl F.
Stevens, so-Florence Cahoone, 7-J. T. S. and W. L. S., so-Hubert L. Bingay, 8-William Adams Dayton, Jr., x-M. Louise
Baldwin, 4- Dorcas Below, 5-R. O. B., 6- Geo. S. Seymour, 7- Marian F. Gragg, 8--Alice and Malcolm McBurney, 4--Sadie
Hubbard, 7-"Two Little Brothers," 8- Katharine T. White, I--"Three Blind Mice," 6-Maud Mulhern, 2--R. S. B. and A. N.
I., o-- Kathryn Lyon, 9-" Merry and Co., 6- Harry and Helene, so-Ann Francisco, 4-Dorothy Swinburne, xo-Ruth M. Ma-
son, 3-" Tip-cat," 9- Cyril Bruyn Andrews, I -Alma and Virginia, i -Theo. S. Butcher and "Mary," 2-Claire Hall, i.


ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL.


ALL the words pictured contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, in the order numbered, the diagonal (from the
-upper left-hand letter to the lower right-hand letter) will
spell the name of a celebrated Italian poet.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.
MY first is in hoist, but not in pull;
My second, in empty, but not in full;
My third is in bad, but not in good;
My fourth is in metal, but not in wood;
My fifth is in pork, but not in ham;
My sixth is in press, but not in jam.
Turn a few pages and you may find
When I wrote this rhyme what was in my mind.
GEORGE L. HOSEA.
ZIGZAG.
ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below


another, in the order here given, the zigzag, beginning
at the upper left-hand corner, will spell the name of a
distinguished American author,
CROSS-WORDS: I. An insect. 2. Final. 3. Wasted.
4. A plate or bowl. 5. Anything which allures. 6. To
eat away. 7. An entrance. 8. A leading theatrical per-
former. 9. An aquatic bird. Io. An ecclesiastical dig-
nitary. II. One of a certain political party. 12. A dull
color. 13. A tract of low land. 14. To imply. 15. A
long-pointed tooth. 16. A ruler. T. E. I.

RIDDLE.

I 'M seen in the day, but not in the light;
I 'm found in the dawn, but not in the night;
I avoid the bright sun, and am ever in shade;
And though out of work, I am always in trade;
I shine in the stars, but not in the moon;
I 'm found in the ladle, but not in the spoon;
I 'm not in the storm, but in all sorts of weather:
I 'm not on the moor, though I hide in the heather;
I 'm always in rain, but I 'm not in a shower;
I 'm in every leaf, but not in a flower;
I 'm not in the months, but remain n n he years;
And though not in grief, I am always in tears;
I 'm always in reason, but never in rhyme;
And though always in harmony, never in time.
In the Garden with Adam,-you 'll hardly believe,
Though perfectly true,--I was not there with Eve,
I 'm found in the autumn, but not in the spring;
I 'm in every shadow, but not in a thing!

I 'm not in the Whole, but in every part;
And though not in your soul, I 'm enshrined in your
heart. LUCY E. ABBOT.







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


\ .j l~:t 2 2 S C
~Ii ~

.1;1 7, .


DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

MY primals and my finals each name a famous musi-
cian.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Soft and ripe. 2. A character in
Shakspere's play of "Twelfth Night." 3. Something
that has short turns or angles. 4. One of a fabulous race
of female warriors in Scythia. 5. A gorge. 6. Extreme
fear. H. E. J.
TRIPLE ACROSTIC.

1 7 13
2 8 14
3 9 15
4 io 16
5 17
6 12 18

FROM I to 7, a dignitary of the church; from 2 to 8,
one chosen to see that the rules of a game are strictly
observed; from 3 to 9, an evergreen shrub whose leaves
were used to make crowns for victors; from 4 to 1o,
ardor; from 5 to II, a puzzle; from 6 to 12, the price
paid for the redemption of a prisoner; from 7 to 13, to
go the rounds in a camp; from 8 to 14, power; from 9
to 15, the eastern coasts of the Mediterranean Sea; from
o1 to 16, a play of Shakspere's ; from I to 17, a musical
term meaning "slow"; from 12 to 18, a dark crimson.
The letters represented by the figures from I to 6 and
from 13 to 18, name a famous novelist; from 7 to 12,
one of his works. F. W. F.
CHARADE.

WHEN I reproved dear little May,
She shook her curly golden head.
Am I so first second youth ? Now pray
What will I be second third?" she said.
With saucy whole she thus beguiles
Her stern old father, till he smiles.
M.
DIAMOND.

I. IN clavier. 2. A vulgar fellow. 3. Responsibili-
ties. 4. A kind of candy. 5. To depress. 6. A clique.
7. In clavier. S. STRINGER.
CONCEALED AQUARIUM.

THE names of twenty-nine creatures that live in the
water are concealed in the following story: which are they?
Three sisters, Kate, little Ellen, and Sal Montgomery
went to visit their grandmother, who had lived a century.


'I''




"I


She would sit for hours watching the clouds melt and go
by, and at night on a brilliant star pondered. How hale
she looked! Not a shadow on her face, and her smiles
whisper cheer to all hearts. She reproved a boy sternly
who somehow hit, in going by, a coal scuttle, upsetting
it on the carpet. His exclamation and his call, opened
her eyes to his carelessness. Words ensued, and Bob
assented, considering he had best urge on her his inno-
cence, although he absconded with her ring, a beautiful
sard. I never saw a finer one. Her son Adolph in haste
had docked his horses' tails, and followed the boy. He
did not return till the evening was gray. Lingering
about us was a wasp rattling his wings. It routed up
Ike, his friend, who cries Hark! and giving a wink,
lets the window down. FLORENCE AND FLOSSIE.

ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND : I. In sleep. 2. To
cover the end of. 3. A frame used by artists. 4. To
fondle. 5. In sleep.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: i. In sleep.
2. The ocean. 3. A shelf. 4. Past. 5. In sleep.
III. MIDDLE DIAMOND: I. In sleep. 2. A plant.
3. To let. 4. A serpent. 5. In sleep.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In sleep.
2. By way of. 3. Pliant. 4. An interjection. 5. In
sleep.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In sleep.
2. Recompense. 3. Part of a building. 4. A tree. 5. In
sleep. HULME.

HOLIDAY ANAGRAMS.

THE letters in each of the following anagrams may be
transposed so as to form the name of a holiday:
I. Daily for Palos. 2. A silly road-fop. 3. Soap for
Lady Li. 4. Fairy doll soap. 5. Alloys paid for.
6. Dolf, pay sailor. 7. Aid poor Sally F. 8. I pay
dollars, F. 0. 9. Polly Ford, Asia. A. c. B.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


528


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