Front Cover
 The rhyme of the two little...
 The prize cup
 Fire fancies
 Into port
 The first moose hunt
 A little hero of Peru
 The nobody man
 The goodly sword
 Teddy and carrots
 Estelle's astronomy
 What Lydia saw
 The swordmaker's son
 On parade
 The boy who borrowed trouble
 Sindbad, Smith and Co.
 The lowest of our quadrupeds
 Rhymes of the states
 The fairy godmother
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00308
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00308
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 Cover 3
    The rhyme of the two little Browns
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
    The prize cup
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
    Fire fancies
        Page 369
    Into port
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
    The first moose hunt
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
    A little hero of Peru
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
    The nobody man
        Page 391
    The goodly sword
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
        Page 395
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
    Teddy and carrots
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
        Page 402
    Estelle's astronomy
        Page 403
    What Lydia saw
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
    The swordmaker's son
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
        Page 414
        Page 415
    On parade
        Page 416
    The boy who borrowed trouble
        Page 417
    Sindbad, Smith and Co.
        Page 418
        Page 419
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
    The lowest of our quadrupeds
        Page 424
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
        Page 428
        Page 429
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 430
            Page 430
            Page 431
    The fairy godmother
        Page 432
        Page 433
        Page 434
        Page 435
    The letter-box
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
    The riddle-box
        Page 439
        Page 440
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



(SEE PAGE 436.)



MARCH, 1896.
Copyright, 1896, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.

A BOY that was spare, and a girl that was fair,
Were riding from school in town;
With a pony and cart, through the heart of the mart,
Drove Edgar and Elinor Brown.

The brow of the lad was exceedingly glad,
With never a sign of a frown;
While with grace in her place, and a smile on her face,
Rode sweet little Elinor Brown.

But alas for the day and alas for the way
(0 Edgar, O Elinor Brown!),
If a harness were sound, would it drop to the ground
On the smooth, even streets of a town ?


No. 5.


T "I F2'L IP 14
I ,_

I A 1' I I l '. I

.: :;;' '/l12#


'W'i u

In a ponyless cart, in the heart of the mart,
Sat Edgar and Elinor Brown,
While the frolicsome bay, with a gay little
Went galloping out of the town.

Then laughter broke loud from the men in
the crowd,
For folk love a joke in the town;
But gayest of all in the street or the stall
Were Edgar and Elinor Brown.



Their carriage was light, they'd no fright of
the night,
Brave Edgar and Elinor Brown!
So they plodded the way of the frolicsome
To their home in the outskirts of town.

'T was a sight for a dream, this brisk little
Bold Edgar swung strides through the town,
While with grace in her place, and a hot happy
Ran sweet little Elinor Brown.

Mary Elizabeth Stone.


tl I : -
, I "
_-I -

'I I i'
I ti'1



[Begun in ithe November number.]



TRACY LISLE entered upon his new duties
with a satisfaction to which a feeling of triumph
over Gideon gave a peculiar zest. He laughed
as he handled the hose with which Midget had
been sprinkled and he himself had been threat-
ened, saying to himself:
He told me never to set foot on these
grounds as long as he was in charge; and I
said, You won't always be in charge.' "
He wondered a little that the prophecy had
so unexpectedly come true. Meanwhile it was
a pure delight to see'Midget playing about the
place, free and happy, and enjoying, in his
own silent way, the new order of things. The
child, who had always been accustomed to run
in and out of the house at pleasure when the
Melvertons were at home, would have taken
similar liberties in their absence if Tracy had
not vigorously kept him out.
So, before going in himself that afternoon to
close the windows and pull down the shades,
he sent the little deaf-mute home, promising to
follow soon. He had carefully put everything
in order, and was about lowering the shade of
a back chamber window, when he saw some-
thing like a human figure moving behind the
vines of the trellis framed against the side of
the barn.
Why, is that Midget? he said to himself.
" Has n't he gone home yet ? "
But it was n't Midget; a much larger form
appeared at an opening of the vines, a head
nodded, and a hand made signs to Tracy.
It 's George Oliver! he said. What
can he want of me?"
The two boys were about the same age, and
were on good terms enough, but not so inti-

mate as they had once been, the Oliver boy
consorting too much with the idle and reckless
sort to be, in Mrs. Lisle's opinion, a fit com-
panion for her precious son; in the opinion
also, we may add, of the precious son himself.
He never would have come here for me,"
Tracy reflected. He must think Gid Kette-
rell is still in charge; he is after Gid," his
conclusion being that George Oliver had seen,
but had not recognized, him through the win-
dow. "I '11 ask what he wants, and maybe
find out something else "; for he had been all
the afternoon in a study as to which of the as-
sociates of Gid and Osk he should approach,
in order to follow up the clue to the robbery
of the prize cup, given him by Mr. Walworth.
He was undoubtedly right as to George
Oliver's object in visiting the place. George
appeared very much surprised to see Tracy
coming out of the back door presently, locking
it, and walking straight to the trellis.
"Hello, Dord!" said Tracy, smiling diplo-
Young Oliver had at first thought of taking
himself unceremoniously out of the way; but
though he might easily have avoided an inter-
view, there was not time for him to escape
recognition. So he concluded to remain and
face Master Lisle with as confident an air as
he could assume upon short notice.
"Hello, Tracy!" he replied, smiling in his
turn, but somewhat glassily. I did n't know
it was you."
"Well, it happens to be," said Tracy, with
engaging suavity. "Sorry I 'm not the one
you wanted."
"That 's of no consequence," Dord replied.
" I thought Gid Ketterell--"
Gid went off some little time ago. Can't
you make use of me in his place ? said Tracy.
" You know you and I used to be pretty good
friends, Dord."

"Yes; I always did like you, Tracy," Dord "What has, then? Come, Dord! said
answered honestly, pleased at the turn the talk Tracy. Speak right out! I '11 promise you
was taking. We don't see much of each that I sha'n't be offended."
other, lately, though." Leaning an elbow in a diamond of the trellis,
No," said Tracy; "and I wonder whose
fault it is."
Poor as the Lisles were, since the minister'q
death, they stood high in the r-:!..::r .
of the village people, and like' .... ,
their own esteem. Tracy, as he .-re '-. -c-:.L.. "- '' "" "
up, saw more and more the i.
propriety insisted on by his
mother of keeping a certain
class of boys at a distance. This
independence on his part they ,.'
resented by calling him "stuck-
up" and "big-feeling." They t ow p
might have conceded his right
to keep apart from them if the
Lisles had been wealthy, like the
Melvertons; but as it was, his
assumption of superiority was
deemed offensive.
"I don't see how it can be
my fault," said Dord. Then, .
in a burst of candor, "Fact is,
Tracy, I have n't thought I was
quite 'ristocratic enough for you."
At the same time he turned
very red, and looked as if he
feared he had wounded Tracy's
sensibilities. Tracy colored, too,
but maintained his smiling coun-
tenance. All this time they stood -
within the vine-covered trellis,
with the afternoon sunshine flick-
ering upon them through the
"I 'm glad you spoke so frank-
ly, George," Tracy replied, with- and resting
out betraying the least resent- on one foot, with
ment. For now perhaps we the other thrown up care-
can come to a better understand- lessly on the toe behind it, he
ing. I am aristocratic, in one "'COME, DORD!' SAIDTRACY. 'SHEA, regarded Dord ingratiatingly.
sense. But you know it is n't RIGHT OUT! "' Dord stood before him, with his
because I have money, or dress particularly hands in his pockets, his eyes cast down, and
well, or his russet cheeks drawn with a grin of comical
I know that," Dord hastened to admit, embarrassment.
with an air of apology. Money and good You don't dare tell me.! Tracy urged coax-
clothes have n't much to do with it." ingly. Come, Dord, why not tell me frankly ? "


After a pause Dord lifted his eyes and, look-
ing straight into Tracy's with a frank expres-
sion, replied:
You 're a better fellow than the rest of us;
that 's just where it is, Tracy. You 're a better
fellow than the rest of us."
Tracy was touched; a happy expression glis-
tened in his brave blue eyes as he answered:
Oh, now, see here, Dord, what do you mean
by that? I 'm no such good fellow as you

genuine, downright, disinterested kindness. Do
you believe it ? "
It was Dord's turn to feel happy and grate-
ful now. He winked quickly as he leaned back
against the trellis, with his head turned half
away, and said in a low voice:
"I do mean right! But I don't know how
it is you 're brighter 'n the rest of us; that 's
the difference."
"Heigho said Tracy, with something be-


think. I 've got a high temper, I can be as
selfish and jealous as anybody, and I 'm con-
stantly saying and doing things I 'm ashamed
of, or sorry for, afterward."
If you were pretty mean you would n't be
ashamed of 'em," Dord suggested, with a shy
look out of the corner of his eyes.
Something in that! said Tracy, with a gay
little laugh. But what I 'm coming to is this.
It 's the good heart that makes one fellow
really better than another; and there is n't a
better-hearted boy in town than you, Dord Oli-
ver! There is n't one I 'd sooner go to for a

tween a laugh and a sigh, as he took a step
toward him, across the overarched space.
" Brighter'? You know yourself, Dord Oliver,
that in school you were as bright at your lessons
as I was,- when you tried. If you had kept on
and entered the high school, instead of dropping
out as you did, you might be as far along as I
am. So might several of the boys, who got
tired of study, and imagined they had educa-
tion enough. Is n't that so ? "
Maybe 't is," Dord assented, with a sorry
No! cried Tracy. It is n't that, either,



that makes me aristocratic-if I am aristo-
cratic-and I hope I am, in the right way.
Shall I tell you what it is ? "
"I 'd like to know," Dord replied earnestly,
as Tracy paused.
It is because I try to make the best of my-
self. That 's why I keep away from boys that
hold themselves too cheap. I can't afford to
idle away my time as they do, caring only for
the fun of the moment. Something won't let
me. I must improve my mind -get know-
ledge prepare myself for whatever may be be-
fore me in life. When I read about great and
noble men, I can't help comparing myself with
them, and trying to be like them. Our youth
is too precious to be trifled away. I believe in
enjoying it as we go along, but in a different
way from those that find it so dull without
coarse excitements. If that is what makes me
aristocratic," Tracy went on, "why, then I 'm
glad I am aristocratic."
Dord stared at him with astonishment akin
to awe.
I don't wonder you keep away from us," he
Don't you ever have such feelings ? Tracy
"Yes I suppose every fellow has odd
spells. I only wish I could live up to 'em, as
you do! Dord declared, sincerely. But it 's
so much easier to go off and have a good
"Yes," said Tracy; "and the right kind of
a good time is something I believe in, too. I
enjoy it as much as anybody. But you fellows
want to make life all a good time. You've got
to go to work before long, and you ought to be
interested in that work. Then suppose you
give a part of your leisure to serious reading
and thinking -say, an hour or two a day; have
you any idea what a difference it would make
in the course of a year? three years? ten
years? I think, Dord, if you should try that,
you would begin to feel aristocratic' yourself;
you would be a little more choice of your spare
time and of the company you keep."
"That 's so!" said the conscience-smitten
Dord. I guess that 's so."
Then there was a long pause, Tracy wonder-
ing how he should approach the subject that

was uppermost in his mind when he had come
to meet Dord.


"You were coming here to find Gid Ket-
terell," Tracy at last said.
"Yes; I thought it was about time for him
to be going along home, and I 'd go with him,"
Dord replied.
"You 've been here for him before ?"
"No, never once."
"Do you know of anybody who has?"
Tracy inquired.
I don't know as I ought to tell," said Dord;
for he, like almost all the village boys, and
some of their parents and teachers too, I regret
to say, was in the habit of saying don't know
as" for "don't know that," and using other incor-
rect expressions of which fastidious mothers
like Mrs. Lisle disapproved.
If there 's any good honest reason why you
should n't tell, don't," said Tracy, studying him
with kind, searching eyes. But I have a very
good and a very honest reason for asking the
question." He concluded he had better come
frankly to the point. You can help me about
a very important matter, Dord, if you will."
"I should like to do that," said Dord.
"Then tell me who has been here to see
Osk Ordway has; I don't know of'any
When was that ? Tracy asked, with quick-
ening heart-beats.
I don't know; just two or three days ago."
"What did he want? "
"Nothing particular, I guess," Dord an-
swered, evasively.
Tracy thought it time for him to take a bold
He wanted something, and he got some-
thing; and you know it, Dord. And you
wanted something to-day. Was it cider ? "
Dord gave a sheepish sort of laugh.
"I guess there wa'n't" (wa'n't for was n't
was another of his incorrect words) much of
any cider left."
I should n't suppose there would be, after


Osk Ordway had had a taste of it," Tracy ob-
That 's so!" said Dord. "I wa'n't after
"What then? You ought to tell me,"
Tracy insisted.
Osk told me Gid would show me some-
thing, and I thought it might be Fred Melver-
ton's prize cup," Dord replied. But I could n't
make him say so."
Dord! Tracy exclaimed, "this is very
important-what you are saying to me. Now
I am going to tell you something a most as-
tonishing thing that has happened in strictest
confidence. You won't speak of it till I give
you leave."
Dord gave the required promise, and list-
ened wonderingly.
"That prize cup has been stolen! "
"It hain't! said Dord, not by way of con-
tradiction, but as an expression of his intense
amazement. Hain't" was another of his
"You 're a lucky fellow, Dord," said Tracy.
"I don't see how began Dord.
Why, that you did n't come here and get
Gid to show you the cup before it was stolen.
Don't you see? You might have become an
object of suspicion."
Dord's face grew flushed and damp.
"And let me advise you," Tracy continued,
"if you have any sort of connection or under-
standing with Osk, to wash your hands of it
at once. Just what did he tell you ?"
"About the cup? He did n't call it by
name," Dord replied. "He only said Gid had
shown him something in the Melverton house,
and that I could make him show it to me.
That was all. I thought it must be that; for,
before that, we had talked about Fred's win-
ning the prize."
"It was that!" Tracy assured him. "Osk
is mixed up in the business-the robbery, to
speak it plainly-and he meant to mix you up."
"I can't believe it! I thought Osk-"
Dord faltered incredulously.
"You thought better of Osk than that. I
can't say whether I did or not. His visit to
the house that day was as secret as possible; I
happen to know about that," Tracy declared,

triumphantly. "That Gid let him in I am as
sure as I am that Gid denied it afterwards.
Very soon after that-perhaps that very day-
the cup disappeared. Gid vows he knows no-
thing about it. He also says he knows nothing
about the cider that was taken."
Did he say that?" cried Dord. He seemed
about to add more, but stopped, fearing per-
haps he had already said things that might
complicate matters for Gid.
"Don't mince it!" said Tracy. "Did n't
Osk brag to you that he drank cider in the
house? You said as much before."
"Yes, he did," Dord was forced to admit.
"Then what can we think of Gid's denials ?"
Tracy demanded.
I don't know what to think," Dord replied.
"But here 's one thing. If Osk took the cup,
or knew it had been taken, why should he put
me up to come and ask to see it ?"
"'To mix you up in it, as I told you. Or for
any other reason. It does n't deceive me.
And you, Dord-candidly, now!-don't you
see I 've good reason for believing Osk took
the cup ? "
"Yes," Dord avowed. And you 'd have
a still better reason if you knew something I
What's that ?" Tracy asked, so very eagerly
that Dord became alarmed.
I guess I 'd better not tell; it 's something
I had n't ought to have mentioned."
"How! something you ought n't to have
mentioned ? Tracy questioned, unconsciously
correcting Dord's language in repeating it.
"I '11 tell you this, Dord Oliver: it 's always
better, in a matter of this sort, to meet it
squarely and make a clean record for yourself.
You don't help a wrong-doer by keeping back
anything that must come out; and you may
be injuring yourself, you know."
"'T ain't anything that '11 hurt me if I tell
it," said Dord; "and I don't suppose it will
hurt Osk-not if he 's all right."
Of course not! that's the point," said Tracy.
"But if he ought to be exposed, he will be;
and you don't want to pass for one who has
knowingly covered up his misdeeds. Now,
Dord! "
Dord had backed up against the trellis, as




Tracy followed and urged him; he could now
retreat no farther, nor escape in any direction,
Tracy holding him fast, with both hands on his
shoulders, and confronting him with a deter-
mined smile.
I 'd jest as lives tell; I don't know why I
should n't," said Dord. "Two or three nights
ago-Tuesday night, I 'm pretty sure-I was
on the street with the Sweeney boys, when we
saw Osk come out of Elkins's orchard; he got
over the wall and started to cross over to the
street his gran'sir lives on."
"I know; Mr. Pudgwick Maple street,"
said Tracy.
He was carrying something under his coat,
which we might not have noticed," Dord con-
tinued, "if it had n't bothered him in getting
over the wall. Just as he was getting down to
the sidewalk, he seemed to see us coming
around the corner by the harness-shop. He
hesitated a little, then jumped down and
started to cross over, as I said; appearing not
to notice us though it was bright moonlight."
"What time of night was this ? Tracy in-
He had taken his hands from Dord's shoul-
ders, but still stood facing him, listening with
intense interest to every word of his story.
"A little after nine; between nine and half-
past," replied Dord. "We ran after Osk, and
overtook him, and the first thing Dick Sweeney
said was:
"' Hullo, Osk! What ye got there ?'
"'There ? Where ?' says Osk.
"' Under your coat-flap,' says Dick.
"'Oh! that?' says Osk. 'That 's a bull-
head I ketched up here in the river.'
"' Funny place to carry it, under your coat,
wrapped up in your handkerchief,' Dick says;
for we ketched a glimpse of something white.
It was only Dick's guess that it was a handker-
What did he say to that?" Tracy ques-
tioned, with excited eagerness.
Something about a fellow having a right to
carry fish in his own fashion. Then he got
away from us as soon as he could; and the last
we saw of him," said Dord, "he turned into
his gran'sir Pudgwick's gate, and went around
to the shed door."

"And what did you boys think?" Tracy
We did n't swallow the fish," Dord replied,
with a grin. He never 'd have made such a
mystery of a horned-pout ketched in the river.
But I had no idea, till now, what it might
really be."
Tracy hurriedly put the question:
What 's your idea now ? "
"Seems as if it must have been well, I 'd
ruther not say."
There 's no need of expressing an opinion,"
cried Tracy, gratified beyond measure. "Do
you believe it was a handkerchief you saw, or
- the thing itself?"
Should n't wonder if it was the thing itself,"
Dord replied. "'T was just a glimpse we got
of something light-colored under his dark coat-
"Will the Sweeney boys remember about it ?"
"I should say so! We talked it over enough
on our way home, after Osk left us."
Then Dord told of the meeting between Gid
and Osk under the willows.
"It was n't what Osk had been saying to
you, and Gid may have overheard, that made
the trouble," Tracy declared; "at least, not
that alone. I '11 wager the stolen cup was at
the bottom of it."
"'T was something pretty serious, anyway,"
said Dord; for Gid appeared awful cut up; I
never saw him look so black."
"Dord," exclaimed Tracy, you 've no idea
how important all this is. Say nothing of it
to anybody, till I report the whole thing to
Fred Melverton."
I hope I sha'n't get dragged into any
scrape," said Dord.
You won't, if what you tell me is true, I
promise you."
But I don't want to get Osk's ill-will," said
Dord uneasily.
I know that won't be pleasant," said Tracy;
"but I 've no doubt it will be much better for
you than his good-will. Osk Ordway's bad in-
fluence over boys in this village has got to be
put down; and I think this thing is going to do
it. Now, take my advice, Dord," Tracy con-
tinued earnestly; "keep. away from him and
his gang. As for Gid Ketterell, you need n't


come here for him any more; he has been
turned off on account of the robbery."
Dord was greatly surprised. His mother
did n't know. I stopped at his house," he
said, on my way over, thinking he might have
gone home early. She said he had been home
to dinner, and gone back again that I would
find him here."
"Gid seems to be weaving rather a tangled
web," Tracy suggested,-" he and Osk Ord-
way. Now, thanks to you, Dord, I think I 've
a chance to unravel it."



"I believe I have tracked the fox to his den."
This was the ten-word despatch which Tracy
wired to Fred Melverton that evening; and it
brought Fred up from the seaside again early
the next forenoon.
Fred was accompanied by his friend Canton
Quimby, as before; they came sailing into the
Melverton place so swiftly and silently, on their
pneumatic tires, that Tracy, who was kneeling
in the flower-beds, was hardly aware of their
approach until they sprang off upon the walk
close behind him.
He rose and turned quickly, and saw them
standing there, radiant with health and gay
spirits, each beside his wheel.
Well, Trace, we 're here," said Melverton,
I see you are Tracy replied, recovering
from his surprise. "You 're not exactly a pair
of seraphs, but if you had dropped down out of
the sky you could n't have come upon me more
He stood blushing before them, handsome
but embarrassed, conscious of fingers soiled
from the pulling of weeds about the roots of
the plants, and awkwardly unpresentable for
I never meant you should do this sort of
work, Trace! Fred exclaimed, leaning his
wheel against the piazza steps.
It's the one thing Gid Ketterell did n't do,
and the one thing that needs to be done," Tracy
made answer. Did you get my telegram ? "

"Did I get it ?" echoed Fred. "It gave
me such a start, I nearly upset the tea-table."
And his friend Canton Quimby added, "It
was all I could do to keep him from hopping
on his bike and scooting up here last evening;
it was only by promising I would come with
him this morning. We 're fox-hunting "
"That is, if I understand just what you
meant by the fox," said Melverton. If you
have tracked that-"
That 's just what I have done," said Tracy,
He went on to relate, rapidly but circum-
stantially, the discoveries he had made, through
Mr. Walworth and George Oliver; Fred listen-
ing with delighted approval, both of Tracy's
tact in the affair and of his shrewd conclusions.
At the close, Canton Quimby, who was always
finding spheres of usefulness for his friends, re-
marked pointedly:
"Don't consider me impertinent, young man,
but allow me to inform you that you have a
career before you. You are a born detective.
I advise you to take it up as a biz."
"Thank you! Tracy replied with a laugh,
not in the least displeased. A little amateur
work is all I should ever care to do in that line,
and that only to oblige a-friend. I fairly stum-
bled upon this, without much credit to myself."
"You've worked it up with admirable ad-
dress and discretion," Fred declared.
"But the fox is n't caught yet," Tracy sug-
gested, aglow with modest pleasure.
"No, but we '11 have him out of his den,
I warrant!" said Fred, with enthusiasm. I
know this fellow's folks, Osk Ordway's grand-
parents,"- turning to Canton Quimby. "Hon-
est old people as ever lived. Their daughter
made a runaway match eloped with a music-
teacher, whom they and everybody except her
knew to be an unprincipled adventurer. After
two or three years she came home with broken
health and bringing this boy. She died, and
left him to the care of her parents. They have
had no end of trouble trying to bring him up
in the way he should go."
"And the boy's father ? Quimby inquired.
"The last I heard of him he was in trouble
for drawing money on a forged check somewhere
in Colorado. He has never done anything for


his son's support. The boy just preys upon
his grandparents, who can neither govern him
nor turn him out of doors. The old man has
got him out of several bad scrapes; he vows
each time he will never help him out of another.
I think we 'd better lose no time in following
up this trail."
That's my opin'," Quimby replied. "Take
it while it 's fresh."
Do you want me to go with you to find
Dord Oliver, and get him to tell his story to
you ?" Tracy asked.
No," said Fred; I 've no doubt you have
reported it correctly. We can call him as a
witness later. And we '11 leave Gideon for the
present. Osk Ordway is our game."
Then, leaving Tracy to await developments,
the young men leaped upon their wheels, and
sped away down the road in the direction of
the village.
As they approached Maple Street, Fred
pointed out to his companion the small brown
house where Osk lived with his grandparents,
and said to him:
"Now we separate. I '11 run down to the
house, and get a chance, if I can, to interview
the old grandfather alone; I believe I see him-
in his garden. In the meantime, you ride on
to the police headquarters, and lay the whole
thing before the chief--the officer I introduced
you to the other day."
Yesterday," Canton Quimby suggested.
Was it no longer ago than that ? How an
exciting event crowds the sense of time! Fred
exclaimed, and then he added, I 'd better not
be seen visiting the police with you; the fox
might take alarm."
"I understand. I am to consult the chief,
and to have him and his machinery ready for
emergencies," said Quimby in a business-like
way. "Then what?"
"Then ride back, and pass leisurely to and
fro before the house, once or twice, or until I
give you a signal. Say twenty minutes or half
an hour from now. I '11 be in sight some-
So saying, Fred Melverton turned down a
street that ran parallel to Maple street, and,
making a swift detour, again approached the
house of the grandparents from the other side.



OSK ORDWAY'S grandfather (or "gran'sir,"
as Osk and others called him) was a house- and
sign-painter, who had so far retired from busi-
ness that he employed his activities- which in
his advanced age and portly condition were
not great chiefly in the care of his cow and
his garden, his poultry and his pigs. He had
a ponderous person, a big bald head, a smooth-
shaven face, and a three-story chin.
He was at work that morning hoeing his
sweet corn in a little patch beside the house,
when young Mr. Melverton alighted from his
bicycle at the gate, and walked toward him.
Good morning, Mr. Pudgwick! said Fred,
tracking the freshly stirred earth between the
rows. "Your corn looks well."
Passable, passable," said the old man, hold-
ing his hoe-handle with one hand, while with
the other he lifted his tattered straw hat- not
to salute his visitor, but to admit the cooling
breath of heaven to the dewy expanse of white
scalp which he uncovered. At the same time
the triple chin became quadruple as he settled
it on his immense chest. "Well enough," he
added, considering who the gardener is."
The big man, by the way, had so small a
voice, that it seemed as if there must have been
a little man somewhere inside him who did the
"You take care of it yourself, I see; and it
speaks well for the gardener," remarked Fred,
his fine face and athletic-figure, as he stood
there, tall, handsome, erect, in his trim bicycle
suit, presenting a curious contrast to unwieldy
old gran'sir Pudgwick, in his baggy panta-
loons and coarse shirt open at the throat.
The piping voice in the huge bulk made an-
"I do about all the taking care of it that
it gets. And I am seventy-six and scant of
breath, and it jest about kills me to stoop, and
quite kills me to get up again once I am down."
There was a humorous twinkle in the small
eyes that looked out from the coarse features,
as he added:
I don't have to lift quite all creation when


I rise up, but it 's a pretty good lump of it.
It 's some years since I got too heavy to resk
myself with a paint-pot on a ladder."
"What does that strapping grandson of
yours do?" Fred inquired. "I should think
he would help you in the garden."
"That 's what anyone would think; anyone
that did n't know him," replied Gran'sir Pudg-
Is n't he any more industrious than he used
tobe ? Fred continued.
"Any more what?" cried Gran'sir Pudg-
wick, with grimly humorous surprise. "I never
heard that term applied to him in any de-
gree. The only way for me to get work out of
him is to hire him at exorbitant wages; then
he quits soon as ever he gets a little money
to spend."
Fred had got the conversation started in the
right direction, and he pursued it.
He is entirely dependent on you, is n't he?"
"That's the general impression," said Gran'-
sir Pudgwick. I feed him, lodge him, clothe
him; and I 've sent him to school as long as
he could be got to go. But it seems to be his
opinion that I 'm dependent on him. He 's
master of the house; I 'm only his steward,
and I 'm wrongfully keeping back money that
should be turned over to him."
That 's a strange condition of things," Fred
answered. You have everything in your own
hands; why don't you bring him to terms by
putting him on a short allowance ? Show him
that you are master of the situation."
"I've threatened it, and I 've tried it. But
he 's got one thing you don't take into ac-
"What 's that ? Fred queried.
"A gram'er!" said the old man, bringing
his hoe down beside a hill of corn with a smart
Fred was puzzled to imagine what advan-
tage any sort of a grammar could be to a boy
so little studious-unless it were to throw it;
and the whimsical idea occurred to him that
Gran'sir Pudgwick would be a mark not easy
to miss. But, quickly divining the old man's
meaning, he said seriously:
"His grandmother ? She takes his part? "
"She does, and she does n't," Gran'sir Pudg-

wick replied. "She knows him, and she '11 say
as bitter things about him as I do. He shows
her no more respect than he shows that cow
hitched by the chain. His gram'er 's hitched
by a chain and a stake druv into the ground.
That chain and stake is her memory and her
affection for the boy's mother-our beloved,
misguided, only daughter. When it comes to
the case in hand, and I 'm determined either
to discipline him, or to turn him outdoors, she
relents; she can't break the chain nor pull up
the stake. She says, 'Think of Angie! for her
sake!' and she forgives everything, though his
cruel ingratitude is breaking her heart."
The old gran'sir spoke with an emotion that
heaved his profound chest. Fred was moved
with compassion; but he thought it time to
introduce the errand that had brought him.
"Where is he to-day ? he asked. I 've a
little business with that grandson of yours "-
all the time keeping a lookout over the garden
fence, for Canton Quimby on his wheel.
Nobody knows where he is; nobody ever
knows," said Gran'sir Pudgwick, fitfully hoe-
ing at a hill of corn, then stopping to talk again.
"What scrape is he in now ? he added sharply.
Although he seemed often to find relief to
his wounded affections in complaining of his
grandson, he was seldom willing to hear others
accuse him. This morning, however, he was
in an unusually resentful mood; and when Fred
replied that a valuable object had been taken
from the Melverton premises, in the absence of
the family, and that he had reason to believe
Oscar knew what had become of it, Gran'sir
Pudgwick set up his hoe between the rows of
corn, and exclaimed:
"Jest like him! jest like him! We 'll ferret
it out! We '11 ferret it out Was it anything he
could carry in a six-quart pail ? "
"Oh,yes; very conveniently," Fred answered.
When was it taken ? "
"Three or four days ago; probably last Tues-
day night."
Come with me! said Gran'sir Pudgwick,
starting to leave the corn-patch. "We can't
talk here."
He tramped heavily between the rows, with
Fred at his side; but stopped suddenly, facing
the young man, as he said:



"I 'm afraid he has got it, whatever it was.
Wait till I tell you. Two or three mornings
ago,--it might have been Wednesday morn-
ing,-I noticed a singular thing. He went
out afore breakfast, which he does n't often do.
Breakfast is a favorite institution of his, and his
was waiting that morning. His gram'er will
keep his breakfast on the stove till he comes for
it, if it ain't till noon. Then it must be ready,
and he must have it hot, or there 's a circus!"
Again the old gran'sir started to leave the
field, Fred accompanying him.
But on that morning, Mr. Pudgwick ?"
I '11 tell ye." They stopped on a. strip of
sward beside the house. It was such an un-
usual thing his going out before he set down
to his breakfast, which his gram'er was hurry-
ing to put on the table that I kept watch of his
movements. He went first to the woodshed,
then up the stairs-them outside stairs-to the
shop the old paint-shop here, over the barn."
I know the old shop," said Fred, casting a
glance up at it.
"I do precious little work in it, late years,"
Gran'sir Pudgwick went on; "but once in a
while a small job comes in, and I still use it as
a shop, though sometimes I don't get up them
stairs once a week. He uses it more than I
do-for traps, fishing-gear, and such like."
"Well, about that morning ? Fred urged.
"If he has taken anything from your place
he had no business with, I ain't going to shield
him," Gran'sir Pudgwick went on, as they
walked toward the outside stairs. He was
absent some little time in the shop, then he
comes back to the woodshed, and gets a six-
quart tin-pail, which he carries up- to the shop,
with the cover on. All the time I was pretend-
ing to read. my newspaper by the kitchen win-
dow. He was gone about as long as before;
then bimeby he comes out of the shop, and
down the stairs, without the tin-pail, and
comes into the house, to be scolded by his
gram'er, and to scold back, 'cause his breakfast
was n't served hot, as if he lived in a hotel."
"Can I see that pail?" Fred Melverton
I guess we can find it," the old man made
answer, as he began his slow and laborious as-
cent of the stairs, with his hand on the rail.



JUST then Canton Quimby glided by on his
wheel, and received a signal from Fred, who
was patiently following the ponderous Pudgwick
up the steep flight. The old man carried a key
he had taken from some projection under the
stairway; with this he unlocked the shop-door,
and entering, sank down, gasping for breath,
upon the nearest stool.
The place had a littered and desolate look
with its empty paint-buckets, paint-kegs and
oil-cans cluttering one end of the room; old
sign-boards stood in a corner; there were paint-
smeared trestles and planks, and rubbish of va-
rious sorts on the paint-spattered floor.
On one of the trestle-supported planks was a
tin pail, which Gran'sir Pudgwick pointed out
as the one in question.
"I hain't never looked into it," he said:
"but you can. I 'm afraid, though, since it is
left out in plain sight so, you won't find what
you're looking for, inside on 't."
Nevertheless, Fred hastened to lift the cover,
and found the pail empty.
I expected it," he said. "You say Oscar
came up into the shop twice that morning; the
first time without bringing the pail. No doubt
that was a visit of exploration; he was looking
for a safe hiding-place for his booty. That is
still, probably, somewhere in this room, unless
he has since taken it away."
I don't think he has," Gran'sir Pudgwick
replied. "For I 've reason to think it is still
Fred was eager to learn that reason.
He has brought fellows in to see it," said
the old man.
"That 's interesting! Melverton exclaimed.
"What fellows ? "
"That young Allston; he was the first. He
was here two evenings ago."
"Winthrop Allston! I thought he had a
place in the city."
Yes, he has, in a jeweler's store," said the
oldman. Comes out here, though, pretty of-
ten, in summer. I believe my gran'son sent for
him. You see, I 'm telling you everything I



know; for if there 's anything crooked, I 'm
bound to help you straighten it,"
"I 'm greatly obliged to you 1" Fred ex-
claimed. "What you say astonishes me In a
jeweler's store ? And Oscar sent for him ? "
"I saw a letter addressed to him, on my
gran'son's table, the morning before Allston
came," said Gran'sir Pudgwick,
Fred Melverton, keeping a lookout for Can-
ton Quimby, had gone over and stationed him-
self by a window. He now asked permission
to open it.
"The air is close here," he said.
Certain, certain; do anything you like."
Fred opened the window, and stood by it
until he had an opportunity to make another
signal to Canton Quimby, repassing on his
bicycle. Meanwhile he remarked:
I always thought Wint Allston was a pretty
decent'sort of fellow."
"Why not?" retorted the old man. "My
gran'son goes with decent fellows, when he 's
a-mind to. I buy good clothes for him; and,
see him dressed up, you 'd say he might be a
ornament to society, if he chose. Polite ? he
can be as polite as a basket of chips to anybody
but his gram'er and me. From something I
overheard, as they went out of the yard to-
gether, he seemed to be making some sort. of a
bargain with Winthrop."
I see! Fred replied, mentally making swift
combinations of all the accumulating circum-
stances in the case. "You 're sure Winthrop
did n't carry the thing away ? "
"Yes; without 't was something he could
carry in his pockets. Besides," said Gran'sir
Pudgwick, Oscar has had fellows here since:
to show it to 'em, I judged. At all events, he
had some mysterious business with 'em, up
here in the shop Tom Hatch yesterday fore-
noon; and that Ketterell whelp in the evening.
Never more than one at a time."
"Gideon Ketterell ? Fred exclaimed. "He
is in it, then, after all! "
"I judge so," said the old man. "As my
gran'son went away with him, I heard him
say, 'You can't complain but what that 's
fair, if I give you half.' Seemed as if there 'd
been some sort of trouble between 'em, and
Oscar was coaxing him around. He 's a

master-hand to coax, as he is to bully; good at
one as t'other."
Fred Melverton stepped forward in front
of the fat old gran'sir on the stool, nursing his
series of chins, and said earnestly:
"With your consent, Mr. Pudgwick, I wish
to make a thorough search of these premises."
"Certain," said the old man. "As I said
before, do anything you like. I never shielded
my gran'son in wrong-doing, and never will."
"We all know you to be a thoroughly up-
right man," said Melverton. "I shall need
some help; and to have everything regular, I
have called in Mr. Hazel."
Chief of Police ?" the old man looked up,
somewhat startled. Is it so serious ? "
"If we find nothing it won't be serious at
all," Fred replied. If we do find what I am
in search of, it will be well to have an officer at
hand. I have relied upon your good-will to
enable us to dispense with a search-warrant."
Certain, certain," said Gran'sir Pudgwick,
firmly. If you can unearth anything of yours
on my premises, I am not the man to hender
you. Good morning, Mr. Hazel! as the Chief
of Police, in citizen's dress, just then entered
the shop, followed by Canton Quimby.
In a few words Fred Melverton explained
the situation to the new comers. The first
thing Chief Hazel did, was to go and look into
the empty pail. Canton Quimby also looked
into it, in his turn; going so far as to hold it
upside down, and rap the bottom with his
knuckles. As he did this with a droll smile,
Fred, who thought he was burlesquing the
officer, tried to look grave, but failed.
Then the three held a consultation, while
they made a general survey of the room.
You hain't told me yet what you 're hunting
for," observed Gran'sir Pudgwick.
If we don't find it there 's no need of men-
tioning it; if we do, you will see it with your
own eyes," Fred replied.
"We 'll begin here in the corner, and go
through everything," said Chief Hazel; "look
into every bucket and tub as we turn 'em over,
and set 'em out from the wall."
He did the most of the overturning; Fred and
his friend watching to see that the search was
thorough, and offering suggestions.

(To be continued.)


/ ,> ;

'' :.' .

., ._- ,

.'-- '- .- ,


WHEN the flames are running riot,
Pictures come before our eyes:
Never steady, never quiet,
Magic palaces arise;
Now a goblin, now a fairy,
Here an elf and there a gnome;
Then a dream-boat, white and airy,
Drifting on a sea of foam.

All the tales that one remembers--
Dragons, witches, captive dames-
Gleam together in the embers
And the flashing of the flames.

Bits of sunny summer playtime,
White enchantments of the snow,
Memories of night and daytime,
Lightly come and swiftly go.

Last a train of cars, full freighted
With departing fairy souls,
Cracks and roars as if belated,
Rushing o'er a bridge of coals.
Then the gold light turns to umber,
And with soft and stealthy tread
Comes the Sandman, bringing slumber.
Now it's time to go to bed!

^r "- ".*'
fS. _'..**fe ,

VOL. XXIII.-47-48.



S ..EVERY one who lives
_'x ,near rivers or harbors
-ees perhaps daily the
I U. S. Lighthouse-service Flag. buoys dotting the sur-
face of the water, the lighthouses and beacons
along the shores, and the little pilot-boats which
seem to sail aimlessly about, with big numbers
on their sails; and while every one knows, in a
vague way, that all these things are to guide
ships into port, yet very few know just how
they all help the navigator.
A big ship is steered across the vast ocean by
using the compass, and measuring the heights
of the sun, moon, or stars. The measurement
of the heights of the heavenly bodies enables
the navigator to calculate the ship's position on
the ocean within three miles at any time; but
in rivers and harbors he must know her posi-
tion within almost as many yards, in order that
she may not run aground. A harbor, be it
ever so broad, is not like the boundless ocean
with countless fathoms of water below its sur-
face at all points. Although the water seems
to extend with placid depth to the very harbor
shores, there are many places where it is but a
few feet deep. In fact, when harbors are sur-
veyed, it is usually found that the deep water is
only in a narrow channel running through the
shoaler part, like a river under water. Some-
times there may be more than one such chan-
nel in a harbor. Usually they are crooked and
meandering; but by digging them out with dredg-
ing-machines they are greatly straightened.
These unseen channels must be marked out
on the surface of the water in some way, so that
a ship can be kept in them; and this is done by
buoys, anchored along their course, and painted
a particular color for each side. A large buoy,
too, is anchored in the middle of a channel
where it joins the ocean, and a buoy sur-
mounted by a perch and day mark," where

there is a sudden turn in the channel. Then
again, if there is an obstruction of any kind,-
such as a wreck or rock or shoal spot, it too
must be marked by a buoy or beacon, and these
must be so painted as to show what they mean.
Beacons on shore also are erected, which, if
the ship is kept in line with them, will guide her
through the unseen channels. Yet, with all
these safeguards, a ship's captain, coming from
a foreign land, cannot be expected to under-
stand just how to enter the harbor. The buoys
and beacons may all be marked on his chart,
but a wreck may have sunk in the channel, or
a buoy may have been forced out of place by
ice, or a colliding vessel, or a. freshet, or some
other change may have taken place too recent
for him to know; so it is necessary for him to
stop at the entrance to a harbor, and take on
board a pilot who knows its condition inti-
mately from almost daily travel through it.
Suppose, then, that we are on a big transat-
lantic steamer approaching the United States
from Europe. For five or six days her captain
has directed her course across the ocean, guided
by his compass and the sun and stars, until the
chart shows that land is near. The dark, un-
fathomable blue of midocean has given place to
the slate-color which indicates shoaling water.
Nova Scotia and Maine lie unseen to the north-
ward. Small coasting and fishing vessels are
frequently passed; and, as the sun goes down,
a sail is made out ahead -a little schooner,
with a big black number painted on her main-
sail. That number marks her as a pilot-boat;
and, even had it not been seen before dark, an-
other sign tells her character after dark -a
bright, white light which flares up at her mast-
head at frequent intervals, and then pales down
to a steady glow. These little boats leave a
harbor with ten or a dozen pilots on board, and
cruise outward along the track of vessels, plac-



t .-. -

-~~- -- -. -
i ~ ~ -=i----


ing a pilot on each incoming ship they meet,
until none is left, when they return for more.
Each pilot thus placed on board ship takes her
safely into port, and then goes out again on the
first pilot-boat he can catch. Sometimes these
little schooners cruise several hundred miles
from a port before all their pilots are taken.
Often they have to lie in wait through gales of
wind and send their pilots aboard large steam-
ers through perilous seas. Sometimes pilot-
boats are sunk in a storm, or crushed during a
fog by the very ship which would have hailed
their presence with joy. When pilot-boats be-
longing to different ports cruise together in the
same ocean roadstead, they fly signals showing
to what port they belong, and also have the
name of the port painted on their sails. Thus,
in the English Channel will be found Amster-
dam pilots, Antwerp pilots, Thames pilots, and
many others, cruising together.
So it happens that, as I have told, the big
liner has sighted a pilot-boat three hundred
miles from New York.
The great ship steams
close up to the little
schooner and stops,
while a rowboat comes
alongside and a pilot
climbs aboard. He
brings some New
York papers a few
days old, and per- -
haps tells of some
startling event which
has happened since
the ship left Europe;
then he betakes him-
self where he pleases,

like any other passenger, for his duties do not
commence until the entrance to New York
Harbor is reached.
Having secured his pilot, it is the captain's
next aim to make a "landfall." That is to say,
he wishes to come in sight of some well-known
object on shore which, being marked down on
his chart, will show him just where he is and
how he must steer to find the entrance to the
A special lighthouse is usually the object
sought, and in approaching New York harbor
it is customary for steamers from Europe to first
find, or "sight," Fire Island Lighthouse. This
is on a little sandy island near the coast of Long
Island. Besides the lighthouse there is on this
island a signal and telegraph station. When,
therefore, the liner steams in sight of Fire Island
Light she hoists two signals, one of which tells
her name and the other the welfare of those on
board. The operator then telegraphs to the
ship's agents in New York that she has been


1 __ -. i- _
Y a=__ -- -- _. .




sighted and that all on board are well or are
The ship's course is then laid to reach the
most prominent object at the harbor entrance,
in this case Sandy Hook Lightship. She is
easily recognized: a big, cradle-shaped hulk
painted red, with two stumpy masts having
black, ball-shaped cages on top of them. If
it were night she would be found by a light
at her masthead flashing brightly white for
twelve seconds and invisible for three.
The course from this lightship to the harbor
entrance is laid down on the chart west-north-
west, one quarter west," and, steering this course,
a group of three buoys is reached. One is a
large "nun," or cone-shaped, buoy, painted
black and white in vertical stripes; another has
a triangular framework built on it, and in the
top of this framework is a bell which tolls
mournfully as the buoy is rocked by the waves;
while the third is surmounted by a big whistle,
similar to those on steamboats, which puffs out
a hoarse blast each time the buoy sinks into
a heavy swell. These mark the point where
ocean ends and harbor begins, and can be
found in fair weather or in fog by their color
and shape, or noise. They are the mid-chan-
nel buoys at the entrance to Gedney Channel,
the deep-water entrance to New York harbor.

Here it may be noted that mid-channel buoys
in all harbors in the United States are painted
black and white in vertical stripes, and, being in
mid-channel, should be passed close-to by all
deep-draught vessels. At this point the pilot
takes charge of the ship, her captain becoming
only an interested spectator so far as her navi-
gation is concerned.
Ahead the water seems now to be dotted in
the most indiscriminate manner with buoys
and beacons, and on the shores around the
harbor, far and near, there seem to be almost
a dozen lighthouses. If, however, you watch
the buoys as the pilot steers the ship between
them, you will soon see that all those passed
on the right-hand side are red, and all on the left
are black. Thus the second lesson in harbor
navigation will be learned, that in entering our
harbors all buoys on the right-hand side of the
channel are red, and those on the opposite side are
black. We will also note here that where more


than one channel runs through the same harbor,
the different channels are marked by buoys of
different shapes. Principal channels are marked
by nun buoys, secondary channels by can"
buoys, and minor channels by "spar" buoys.




Gedney Channel is a short, dredged lane
leading over the outer bar, or barrier of sand,
which lies between harbor and ocean. Its
buoys are lighted at night, the red ones with
red lights, and the black ones with white lights.
Moveover, a little lighthouse off to the left,


for two fixed white lights on the New Jersey
shore and hillside, known as Point Comfort
Beacon and Waackaack Beacon, for he knows
that by keeping them in range, that is to say,
in line with one another and himself, and by
steering toward them, he is in the main ship-

. 4t-
S 'i



known as Sandy Hook Beacon, has in its lamp
a red sector which throws a red beam just
covering Gedney Channel. Thus this channel
can be passed through in safety by night as
well as by day. If it is night the pilot knows
when he is through it by the change of color in
Sandy Hook Beacon light from red to white.
Then he looks away past that light to his left

channel. By day, the main ship-channel buoys
would guide him, as in Gedney Channel, but
at night these buoys are not lighted.
Only a short distance is now traversed when
the ship comes to a point where two unseen
channels meet. This is indicated by a buoy
having a tall spindle, or perch," surmounted
by a latticed square. From here, if she con-




, ^-^

,. :-= .



tinues on her course, she will remain in the
main ship-channel, which, although deeper, is a
more circuitous route into port; so, if she does not
draw too much water, she is turned somewhat
to the right, and, leaving the buoy with the
perch and square on her right, because it is red,
she is steered between the buoys which mark
Swash Channel. If it were night this channel
would be revealed by two range-lights on the
Staten Island shore and hillside, known as Elm
Tree Beacon and New Dorp Beacon, both
being steady-burning, white lights; but we are
entering by daylight, and when half-way through
Swash Channel we notice a buoy painted red
and black in horizontal stripes. To this is given
a wide berth by the pilot. It is an obstruction "
buoy marking a shoal spot or a wreck. Its
colors are to indicate this, and also that it may
be passed on either side. All such buoys are
warnings to navigators to keep away from the
spot which they mark.
All these guides to the safe navigation of the
harbors and inland waters of the United States
are kept in place and in order by the Light-
house Board, a branch of the Treasury De-
partment. The whole country is divided into
districts, New York harbor being in the third


lighthouse district; the headquarters being at
Tompkinsville, Staten Island. Small steam-
ers called lighthouse tenders are attached to
each station to go out and pick up buoys for
repairs, put down new ones, or to take oil
and supplies to the lighthouses and lightships.
You can recognize a lighthouse tender by a
small, white, triangular flag at her masthead,
bordered with red and
A having a lighthouse
printed in the white
The channel buoys
are all numbered in se-
quence from the sea-
ward end of each chan-
nel, the black buoys
S having odd numbers,
1- and the red buoys even
OBSTRUCTIN numbers. If there are
several channels into
the same harbor, the initial letter of each
channel's name is usually also painted on its
buoys. The larger buoys are anchored with
"mushroom" anchors, and the smaller ones
with sinkers of stone or iron, and they have
sufficient length of chain to allow for rise and



. .... 'I-- '





fall of tide. In harbors where ice is likely to
form, the broad nun or can buoys are in winter
replaced by narrow ice-buoys, for these pre-
sent less surface to the ice, allowing it to pass
over them, and are thus less likely to be torn
adrift. All buoys except small spar-buoys are
made of plates of boiler-iron, bent to shape and
riveted together, painted inside and out, and
made watertight. They are also divided into
watertight compartments, so that a single punc-
ture by a colliding vessel will not sink them.
Sometimes these buoys get adrift and are found
far out at sea; but their absence is quickly dis-
covered, and they are chased by a tender, and
brought back, or new ones put in their places.
A buoy once got adrift in New York harbor,
made the trip to Europe in six weeks, and was
picked up off the coast of Ireland, where it is
now moored in commemoration of its voyage.
All changes in the position of buoys or light-
ships, or the placing of new buoys to mark a
change of channel, or an obstruction, are pub-
lished promptly in pamphlets called Notices to
Mariners," which are distributed as quickly as
possible through well-organized means of com-
munication. A few years ago one of the largest
of our handsome new cruisers was approaching
New York harbor from the West Indies in a light
fog. Sandy Hook Lightship had been found,
the usual course laid for Gedney Channel, and
the ship was steaming onward at full speed, her
captain, having been inspector of that very
lighthouse district but a short time before, feel-
ing that he knew his way into that port better
than the most experienced pilot. Presently,

however, he was startled by the alarming cry
of breakers ahead / A large hotel also loomed
up, and, as the ship was backed full speed
astern, all hands realized that they had barely
escaped running high and dry on Rockaway
Beach. When the vessel got into port it was
learned that Sandy Hook Lightship had been
moved considerably from its old position, and


that the notice to mariners concerning this
change had been mailed to the captain of the
cruiser, though it had failed to reach him before
he sailed from the West Indies.
Such, then, is the way in which a great ocean
steamship, after rushing fearlessly over the un-
fathomable depths of ocean, must be guided
through narrow channels between shoals, rocks,
and wrecks, her keel often within a few inches
of the bottom, and brought safely into port.



!'il L



i 'OE! Joe! Canyou call stood as straight as a spruc
moose ?" hint of probably French anc
"Sartin, I kin call moose," plexion, which was lighter th
was the confident reply. straggling beard, and in his h
Joe, with dark, ruddy to curl--which the full-blood
complexion, crisp, black hair, not.
and aquiline nose, was a Although sixty years old, h(
typical Indian of the Eastern prime, and counted the ablest
States. He was of medium village. His name was Ambr
size, past middle age, and Joe's uncle. Ambrose was
dressed like a white man. along, and when he learned th
/ Good moose-hunters were engaged to call the moose, h
not too plentiful, even upon the his nephew's skill, while he ap
STobique. So the services of of himself that he was no hunt
Joe were immediately secured ing been often with hunting- a
by "Jack and his brother he would perhaps suit in oth
Crop," two young men who was so sincere and good-natu
had come on a hunt from New York. kindly air, that the boys' idea
At least two guides were needed, each with a to be reconstructed. Both Jc
canoe, to transport them and their camping- indeed, were men of fine pe
outfit into the woods. A "hunter" having and, being guides of experiel
been found, in the person of Joe, the second boys felt sure they would be
guide need only be able to handle a birch-canoe long journey from home.
and set up a tent. They were at last in New
At the Indian village was another man, re- land of moose and all other
markable in several ways. He was tall, and This was their first hunt f

e. There was a
estry in his com-
ian Joe's, in his
lair just inclined
ed Indian's does

e was still in his
man in the whole
ose, and he was
delighted to go
at Joe had been
e spoke well of
ologetically said
er, but from hav-
id fishing-parties
er respects. He
red, with such a
of an Indian had
)e and Ambrose,
personal qualities,
nce as well, the
repaid for their

Brunswick, the
wild things.
or bigger game




than rabbits and birds, but what they lacked in
experience was made up by the helpful advice
of friends at home, or else was destined to be
supplied to them in the most effectual way of
all. But the moose were yet far off.
The Tobique River, narrow, swift and spark-
ling, scantily fringed with newly cleared farms,
penetrated a great wilderness of forests and
lakes. Sixty miles up, where the river forks,
was the last human habitation. It had been

little camp by a big salmon pool. But now
the fishing-season was past, and the boys had
but to await the arrival of the canoes. Every-
thing was new and fresh and wild. Even the
pork and potatoes tasted different in front of
the big camp fire. Never had the whole earth
seemed so pleasant.
The Indians arrived at evening on the third
day. Next morning, when the loads were re-
adjusted in the canoes, it was perceived that


planned that Jack and Crop should go with
the driver of the mail, or stage, to a small
settlement near the Forks, and wait there for
the guides, who would go by the river.
So the Indians, each with a fine birch canoe,
went down to the hotel, and took aboard the
supplies and camp stuff. Ambrose gave his
word that in three days he would be at the
Forks. Jack and Crop started off next morning
with the mail driver, and arrived at the settle-
ment of R. Riley Brook in one day.
Instead of lingering here, however, they
pushed on next day to the Forks near by, where
a warden was living, all by himself, in a snug

there was no room in two canoes for the two
passengers. Only the guides understood the
troubles ahead; so, rather than leave behind
part of their stuff, Joe went down to the settle-
ment to look for another canoe. There was
only one available. Joe smiled when he saw
it, and shook his head dubiously. It was made
of a pine log, and was black, long, narrow, and
heavy what is called a pirogue in Canada.
Its owner- who purposed to accompany it-
was a strapping young white man, lean but
strong. His old felt hat was threatening to
part, the brim from the crown. His boots
leaked at every joint, while his homespun


clothes were just as disreputable as man ever
wore for the occasion. This person had a
name, but apparently none of the party could
remember it; so he was christened "Jimmie"
instead, and as Jimmie he will be known in
that region the rest of his life. Jimmie was
clumsy, talkative, noisy, and good-natured.
He had never before been with a party of tour-
ists, so he felt that his mission was chiefly to
entertain them--which he certainly did.
When the loads were made even, the prows
were pointed up the right-hand branch into the
teeth of the torrent. The boys marveled at
the skill of the three canoe-men-for Jimmie
was a master, too, of his own unwieldy craft.
The chink of their steel-shod poles sounded
with regular beats, as standing, each in the
stern of his canoe, they slowly climbed up-
ward. It was a mighty test of skill and en-
durance, and of course the boys could be of no
assistance. Every tough place Jimmie plowed
through with a shout and a flourish, but the
Indians plodded on, like the creatures of the
woods, in a silence broken only by a low word
in their own musical language. But if they
did not talk they were not less alive to all
about them. The woods abounded with living
things; yet at that season the signs of their
presence were so slight that but for the In-
dians it would have held, for the boys, nothing
but birds and chattering squirrels. The In-
dians read the many signs of otter, of bear, of
beaver. Indeed in one place their progress
would have been impeded but that a recent
freshet had lifted the middle out of a brand-
new beaver dam that stretched across the
stream. Once, upon a gravelly bar, Ambrose
pointed out a large cloven foot-print. It could
not be a cow's-it was too long, even if a
cow were likely to go there. But now, at
each turn in the river, their lively imaginations
pictured the great awkward-looking beast that
had lately passed that way.
Ambrose seemed to know a great deal about
moose, after all. He told the boys how, back
from the narrow valley and the swift, winding
stream, the country was all a wilderness; hill-
sides clad with birches, maples, and evergreens,
and resting at their feet little lakes, so numer-
ous that no man knew how many there were.

Often, where these lakes were shallow, the yel-
low pond-lily with its oval leaves crowded the
surface. At other seasons the tender bark of
mountain-ashes and moose-woods are the fa-
vorite food of the moose; but now there is no-
thing he likes so well as the long tubular roots
of the lily. In the very early mornings and in
the evenings, about the time of the harvest
moon-the full moon nearest September 21 -a
hollow sound, not unlike the sound of distant
chopping, may be heard. It is the sound of
moose calling to their mates, or the angry
challenge of fierce rivals. It is this sound
which the hunter imitates to attract the moose.
But there are only a few places where the
moose will answer-shallow spots in certain
well-known lakes, and it is said to be nearly
useless to call anywhere else.
Toward such a place, known to Joe and Am-
brose, the party were making. Unable to go
but a few miles each day, up that fierce little
river, the journey seemed never to end; but on
the fifth day their eyes were gladdened by
sight of level, open water the river's source.
It lacked a day of the open season when
hunting may legally begin; but the season when
moose commonly answer had nearly passed.
So it was agreed that if Crop would stay be-
hind, and take the chances both of getting
a moose there, and of surviving the diet that
Jimmie as cook promised to give him, Jack,
with the two Indians and the lightest canoe,
would keep on, without more than the night's
delay, to a more distant hunting-ground.
There was a snug log-camp close at hand,
for Crop and Jimmie, with an old stove; and it
offered superb accommodations, for the woods.
At sunrise next day Jack set out. It was
easy paddling now, through a chain of beauti-
ful lakes. At the end of the last was a carry.
There Joe gathered the dunnage into a huge
pack, and threw it upon his back. Ambrose
took the canoe upon his shoulders, and followed
Joe; while Jack, with his heavy Winchester
rifle, trudged along after, keeping a sharp look-
out, as ever. The rough path led to another
lake; then, after a paddle across, and another
short carry, to still another lake. The Indians
knew a camping-place near by, and arrived
there just as the sun set.




Joe was plainly anxious. He had frequently
been saying, Not much chance git moose -
too late." Ambrose merely said: "Yes, purty
The Indians drove some sharp poles slant-
ingly into the ground, and covered them with
sheets of birch bark, which made a fair sort of
camp, and built a fire in front. After supper
Ambrose was standing with his back to the fire,
evidently thinking. Without turning, he said:
"Joe, you goin' to call moose to-night ? "
"I don't think it much use too late," re-
plied Joe.
Now a close observer might have seen a
twinkle in Ambrose's eye; but, as the conver-
sation was carried on in the Milicete language,
Jack did not get the drift of their talk.
But did n't you tell that man you kin call
moose ? Why you tell um that ?" said Ambrose.
Joe, without a word in reply, abruptly seized
the ax, and vigorously began to chop wood.
"S'pose mebbe I have to try," added Am-
brose; but Joe said never a word.
It was merely an Indian joke, and Ambrose
after that did not cease to smile at his ambi-
tious nephew. Ambrose indeed was an old,
practised hunter, and Joe was no doubt sorry
he had boasted so before he suspected that old
Ambrose would go along. A moose may re-
spond to almost any sort of a noise, at times,
but only a master of his art can successfully
talk with a moose that is suspicious, as are
moose that have been hunted much.
Ambrose, therefore, proceeded to make the
instrument used for calling. It was a sheet of
smooth birch-bark, made pliant by warming,
and rolled into the shape of a cornucopia, six-
teen inches long, an inch across at the smaller
end, and eight inches across the flare. A tough
strip of cedar bark held it in shape.
Must be very still, calling' moose. Goin'
to be very cold, too, on the lake," was the
guides' warning.
In the bottom of the canoe evergreen boughs
were thickly laid. Jack, wearing a heavy over-
coat, sat in the middle, and drew his blanket
around him. He wore a wool cap to pull down
over his ears, and mittens too. Joe, with blan-
ket around him also, took his place in the bow,
while Ambrose, with the moose horn," stepped

into the stern. A brisk paddle of fifteen min-
utes took them to the outlet of the lake. The
black forest stood like a wall on each side.
Near the middle they stopped, and, thrusting
the paddles into the shallow bottom, anchored
the canoe. The sun had set. Not a breath
of air was stirring. Ambrose slowly rose to his
feet, the horn in his left hand.
With deliberation he cleared his throat, gave
a caress to his mustache, then threw back his
head and put the horn to his mouth.
Moh! -moh short, low grunts, accom-
panied with an upward tip of the horn.
"Mo-o-o-oh!" a wild, tremulous cry, louder
than the rest, the horn describing in the air
the shape of a figure 8.
The hand dropped. The Indian stood in-
tent, with ears strained.
Intense silence. An owl's hollow hoot was
plainly heard from far away.
The splash down the lake was a muskrat,
probably. That was all.
Ambrose wrapped his blanket about his
knees and sat down.
Half an hour passed. Ambrose again rose,
and with the same studied care raised the horn
to his lips.
Scarcely had the second call ceased to echo,
when there was a crash on shore, as if the
woods were coming down. Jack's heart, with
a leap that nearly choked him, began to pound
like a sledge-hammer, and he clutched the
ready rifle.
Nothing could be seen. But the Indians
heard sounds in the woods.
He 's trying' to git to windward," whispered
Ambrose. Paddles were quickly lifted, and the
canoe slowly stole down the shore. Minutes
of suspense elapsed. Ambrose raised the horn
and gave a hardly audible grunt.
Instantly followed a smash of undergrowth
and a splash of water, as something stepped
into the lake. Boring into the blackness, in
the direction of the sound, Jack thought he
could see the reflection of starlight upon some-
thing light. It must be the moose's antlers.
He could hardly steady the rifle, his arms
were so nerveless. As best he could, he drew
a bead and pulled the trigger. The woods re-
verberated with the roar.



The animal merely took several steps along
the edge of the lake. Ambrose, thinking he
could see better, took the gun. Another deaf-
ening roar. Still the animal was there.
The rifle was handed to Joe, who was eager
to try. Another bang, but the beast still stood
Jack took the gun again, steadier now. In-
stinctively directing the faintly glimmering bar-
rel toward the antlers, he aimed, then dropped
the muzzle a little, then turned it to one side,
and fired.
Simultaneously with the explosion the beast
gave a tremendous leap, which was followed by
crashing of branches. Then all was still.
"That 's mighty big moose. I never see
such big ho'ns before. Must been hit that last
time sartin! said Ambrose.
He was gone. It was dangerous to try to
follow. The hunters reluctantly returned to
camp, but by daybreak they were back.

Traces of an enormous moose were soon found.
Only a little way from the lake he lay, upon
the green moss where he fell. In the exulta-
tion of the moment perhaps Jack did not stop
to think of the pity for it was a pity.
The great antlers, spreading out like the up-
turned roots of a tree, were the largest the In-
dians had ever seen. They were a scant sixty
inches across, the outer tine being broken, too.
"He must done that fighting I guess he
ain't afraidd of nothing, said Ambrose, as he
touched the broken antler.
"I would n't like to meet him 'lone in
woods," observed Joe.
He measured, indeed, six and a half feet
high at the shoulders, and in weight fully equaled
a heavy horse.
The moose was skinned, and the head and
antlers taken directly to camp, where a savory
stew was soon cooked up; but the meat was too
tough to eat with enjoyment.




. 'i- -:


Joe was despatched to the other camp.
When Crop heard the good news, he tossed
his cap in air, while Jimmie performed a jig.
The whole party then went over. Ambrose
had already cut some of the moose meat into
thin steaks, and hung it over the fire to dry.
All the meat was thus taken care of, and given
to the Indians. In the process it grew blacker,
and, if possible, tougher. Ambrose smiled more
than ever, while Joe once actually laughed out
loud. Curious gray birds, called "moose birds,"
because of their frequent association with the
moose, were attracted by the odor of the
drying meat, and ate and stole all that they
Crop wanted to call a moose of his own, so
preparations were made at once for getting
the second moose, Jack going along with the
other canoe, but Jimmie staying behind to tend
the camp.
The canoes were stationed as before, as the
sun was setting, and immediately Ambrose be-
gan to call. But this time the calling brought
no answer, and hours passed, measured only by

the revolving stars and at long intervals by the
regular calls of the Indian.
As the boys lay stretched out comfortably
under their blankets they could hardly keep
awake, and it was so still they wondered if
the Indians too were not almost asleep like
themselves. Despite all their efforts the boys'
eyelids grew heavy at times.
It was about midnight. Ambrose had just
sat down, after a call, when he heard a faint
sound like an echo. Could it be? The boys
did not hear it, but Ambrose whispered,
"Moose!" and gave another call, to which
there was an instant response, but from a great
Then it ceased; but the Indians knew.
Half an hour! a twig snapped The woods
seemed empty enough, but who knew what eyes
besides their own were peering through the
darkness ?
Ambrose waved the horn through the water,-
slosh, slosh, like a moose wading. Then he
grunted and coaxed; but the moose, if any
were there, were cautious. At length some



At it

creature began to strike the trees, as with its
horns. Ambrose used his most endearing moose
talk. But just then something unexpected hap-
Crop could n't keep his eyes open, and no
wonder, for neither of the boys had received
first-hand evidence that a moose was within
a thousand miles. He had fallen asleep and-
well, Jack said Crop Inever did such a thing
before. But, however that may be, another


sound an unmistakable sound rose in the
stillness of the frosty night air. It was not


made by the gifted Ambrose, nor yet could it
be the challenge of a distant moose.
The moose in the woods near-by whacked
its antlers against the trees while Crop snored
on, in blissful ignorance of his opportunity.
Ambrose seized him by the shoulder, and
tried to wake him, but Crop only turned over
and snored the louder, while the resonant
sound was carried up and down the lake.
There was no doubt of it. Crop was hope-
lessly asleep. So, leaving a puzzled moose
upon the shore, the Indians dipped paddles
and set out directly for home.
Crop waked up a little, and grasped the situa-
tion enough to tell Jimmie, upon reaching camp,
that "A moose walked right into the camp, and
I was asleep!"
Strangely enough, Ambrose and Joe were
not amused by Crop's performance. But their
training would not permit them, as hired guides,
to say more than:
"We show you the moose; then you suit
yourself! "
It would take hours to tell all that happened
in that month in the woods: of the beaver they
caught and tasted; of the cow moose and her
calf, which they photographed, securing an
excellent negative; of the sable-traps which


or ^


caught nothing because the bear broke them
up; of the fine trout in the lakes; and of how
the Indians shod their canoes with thin strips
of wood, to protect them from being cut or
scraped by the sharp rocks in their passage
down the river.
But at last, all too soon, the time came when
they must turn their faces homeward, and so

they broke camp, and bade good-by to Jimmie,
and Joe, and Ambrose, and, with their tro-
phies, took the train for home.
Jack thinks that he has excellent reason to be
proud of his skill as a hunter, and as for Crop,
he will not for many a day hear the last of
how he went to sleep and snored so musically
while hunting moose.



I., .-" .'
: .- t z .
".. ".. " ;.' ,
;$, '' -i :. "-"
..,.. .

Pr, a~








PROBABLY they would not have seen Ramon
Ynga at all, but for the llamas. There was
enough else to look at. The overpowering
walls of the mountains on both sides seemed to
turn the eyes, even as they turned the foaming
Rimac, into a channel from which there was no
escape. Up at the end of the cleft was such a
sight as no man can long hold his eyes from-
the black peak of Chin-chan', bent down with
its load of eternal winter. There is something
awful about the snow that never melts, the
great blank fields, the wrinkled glaciers, the
savage ice-cornices, the black rocks that peer
out hopelessly here and there. It is so different
from the friendly white we know and welcome
for its sleigh-rides and coastings, its snow-men
and snowballings.
It was far up the summit of the Peruvian cor-
dillera, at the very foot of the last wild peaks
that stand 18,ooo feet in the sky. Where the
panting mules trudged, 3000 feet below the
peaks, was low, green herbage; and 500 feet
lower yet the little torrent, white as its mother
snows, roared and chuckled alternately to the
uneven wind. But up yonder all was so white
and still; their eyes kept lifting to it, forgetful
of the dangerous trail the mules could take
care of that. They, poor brutes, seemed ill at
ease. They breathed in short, loud gasps; and
every hundred feet or so they stopped and rested
for a few moments, unmindful of the spur. Then,
when they were ready, they started up again of
their own accord, sighing heavily. They would
not last much longer, at this rate.
I think I '11 get off and walk awhile," said
the younger traveler of the two, a bronzed, sin-
ewy man of twenty-five. "It spoils even this
scenery for me to see the sufferings of the mules.
One would n't think they'd play out so, on such
a good trail."
"It is not the grade," remarked the Profes-
VoL. XXIII.-49. 3

sor quietly, as perhaps you will learn. I am
sorry for the mules, too ; but it is better to risk
them than something more important."
"Why, you speak as though there were some
danger about it!" said the younger man, who
was now striding-sturdily along, leaving his ani-
mal to follow. Many a time he had climbed
Pike's Peak and its brother giants of Colorado,
and once had stood on the cone of Popocat6-
petl. A peak was nothing to him; and as for
this excellent path -pooh! It was mere
child's play. The Professor watched him with-
out a word, but with an expression half quiz-
zical, half grave. After a hundred yards he
You don't seem quite so springy, Barton.
I never sawyou heavy-footed before."
"Well, the truth is, Professor," gasped Bar-
ton, rather shamefacedly, I feel most remark-
ably queer. My knees ache as they never
did before though I would n't mind that so
much. But I cannot seem to breathe well.
Here my lungs and heart are pounding away as
if I 'd been sprinting for the 220-yard record!
It's enough to make a man ashamed of him-
No cause at all for shame, my dear boy;
you are simply learning what every one has to
learn who tempts great altitudes. Now get on
your mule."
No, I '11 wear this thing off! cried the ath-
lete, impatiently. I 'm no puny boy, to give
up just because I feel a little wrong. I '11
just keep at it, and beat it yet!"
"Barton," said the older man, in a tone his
companion had never heard him use before,
"you get on that mule, and let us have no
more nonsense. I like your pluck; and it is be-
cause you have more real sand (as they say in
our West) than any other young man I know,
that I picked you out for this journey. But


courage is a dangerous thing unless you mix it
with brains. You must learn that there are
some things pluck cannot overcome -and this
is one of them. Mount, then! "
Barton obeyed with rather an ill grace, and
promptly got angrier with himself at realizing
what a relief it was to be perched again in the
ridiculously comfortable Peruvian saddle. He
could not get over a feeling of shame that
the muscles which had borne the cruelest tests
of the frontier should now have "played the
baby," as he put it; and he rode on somewhat
It was here that Ramon Ynga stumbled into
their lives; and, as I have said, all by the doing
of the llamas. As they rounded a sharp turn
in the trail, the mules stopped suddenly almost
face to face with the two strangest animals that
Barton had ever seen. Shabby, grotesque fig-
ures they were: with splay feet, long, awkward
legs, and bodies looking like long tussocks of
dry grass. But their necks were the worst--
tall and ungainly as stovepipes covered with
hair. Their backs were hardly so high as those
of the undersized mules; but on these unspeak-
able necks their heads were quite on a level
with Barton's. And such heads! They were
disproportionately small and ludicrously nar-
row, with pointed ears, malignant little faces,
and lips wickedly drawn back.
"Why, I never saw anything, unless a rattle-
snake, look quite so vindictive! cried Barton.
"What on earth are they ? "
"That is the national bird of Peru," replied
the Professor roguishly. "We are apt to see
many up here. In fact, if we had had any day-
light in Casapalca you would have noticed
many hundreds of them; for they bring all the
ore to the stamp-mills, and do most of the gen-
eral freighting besides. Lower than 10,000 feet
you will hardly ever find them; the llama* is
a mountain animal, and soon dies if taken to
the coast."
So that is the llama! But I thought that
was called the Peruvian sheep; and these look
no more like sheep than my mule."
"It got that foolish name from the closet
naturalists. No one who ever saw a llama
could fail to recognize it for a camel smaller

and longer-haired than the Eastern beast, and
without a hump; but a true camel."
It 's a funny-looking beast," laughed Bar-
ton. It seems to put in its time thinking
what a grudge it has against everybody Hi !
Get out of the way, you standing grievances! "
The Professor and the young frontiersman
had thus far enjoyed the pause of the mules;
but now the need of pushing on recurred to
their minds; and Barton's exclamation was
meant as a signal for advance. But the llamas
stood stolidly as ever, blocking the trail. He
drummed his spurs against his mule; whereat
the animal took two steps forward and stopped,
bracing back, unmindful of the rowels. The
llamas did not take a step. Only, they seemed
to drop their bodies a little, upon those long
Why, they 're not such fools as they look "
cried Barton, whose sharp eye understood the
trifling motion. See! They are going to give
us the edge !"
The trail was two feet wide-an endless
thread of a shelf hewn along the mountain
wall. On the right, the great, dark slope ran
up to the very clouds; on the left, one could
snap a pebble into the white torrent, 500 feet
"I have heard that they always take the
wall," the Professor went on; "and that when
two llama-trains meet on one of these trails it
is almost impossible to make a passing. Some-
times they even shove each other off the cliff."
"I guess we 'd better not force the right of
way- a tumble to the Rimac there is more
than I care for "- and Barton jumped from
his mule and advanced upon the blockaders,
waving his arms threateningly.
Look out! cried the Professor; but before
the words were fairly off his tongue, the fore-
most llama opened its ugly mouth and spat at
Barton in fury. At this unpleasant salutation
he retreated hastily.
"That is their weapon of defense," said the
Professor. But I wish they would get out of
the way- we have no time to spare."
Just then there was another surprise. A
figure hardly less remarkable than the camels
slid down from the overhanging hillside, and

* Pronounced '1l-yah'mah.



stood in the path, looking at the startled travel-
ers. It was a dwarfish creature, not four feet
tall, with a large, round head, a broad, strong
body, and very short legs, peculiarly bundled
up in unfamiliar clothes. A boy-what in the
world was he doing on that impossible slope ?
What a goat he must be !
Hulloa! cried Barton, as soon as he could
find a voice.
God give you good day, sirs," answered the
lad gravely, in thick Spanish. Wait me so
little, and I will get you by."
With this he called U-pa!" to the llamas,
lifting his finger as if to point them up the trail.
Ordinarily they would have obeyed; but the
aggressive manner of Barton had roused their
obstinacy, and they did not budge. The boy
put his shoulder to the ribs of one, and heaved
hard; but the brute stood its ground.
"Well, it is to wait said he; and ran about
the path, gathering up very small pebbles until
his shabby hat was full. Then he sat down on
a boulder that jutted from the bank, settling
himself as if for a long rest. Then he threw a
mild and measured pebble at each llama. They
turned their heads a little and wrinkled their dis-
agreeable noses. He waited for some time and
then pitched two more pebbles which had
the same effect. So he sat, slowly and mechan-
ically tossing his harmless missiles upon the
dense hair of his charges. Evidently he was in
no hurry; and the two travelers, impatient as
they were, had too much wisdom of experience
to try to push him. They sat quietly in their
saddles, watching the droll scene. It was very
ridiculous to need deliverance from two stupid
beasts, and to get it from such an owlish little
tatterdemalion. His ragged clothing was of
very thick, coarse cloth; and upon his feet were
the clumsy yanquis, or rawhide sandals of moun-
tain Peru, and he wore thick stockings rising
to his knees. Over his trousers was a curious
garment, half apron and half leggings; and
over-sleeves of the same material, hung with a
cord about his neck, came up over the elbows
of his coat. These two garments were knit in
very strange patterns, amid which were square,
brown llamas wandering up and down a gray
background. Around his waist was a woven
belt, now very old, but of beautiful colors and

workmanship. And his face- what a brown,
round riddle!
How do you call yourself, friend ? asked
the Professor, in Spanish. And have you ten
years or a hundred ? "
"Ramon Ynga, senior. And the other, I do
not know. I have been here a long time -
ever since they built the mill at Casapalca."
"You must be about fifteen, then. And
where do you live?"
"There, above," answered Ramon, tossing
another pebble.
"A curious habit of the mountaineers," said
the Professor. "These mountain Indians, instead
of living in the valleys, climb to the very tops
of these peaks, and build there their squalid
stone hovels. They seem to think nothing of
the eternal clambering up and down."
An hour crawled by, and the stones in Ra-
mon's hat were running low. Suddenly the
brown llama turned with a snort of disgust, and
strode off up the trail. The gray one hesitated
a moment, snorted -and followed. "That way
they get tired, sirs," said the boy, emptying his
hat and pulling it down upon his thatch of black
"I'd take a good club to them!" growled
Barton, who had great confidence in the Saxon
way of forcing things.
No, the boy is quite right. It is another
case where you must not try to be smarter than
nature. The llama is the stubbornest brute
alive: a mule is vacillating, compared to him.
If you put a pound too much on his load, he
will lie down; and you might beat him to
death, or build a fire beside him, but he would
not get up. Nobody but a Peruvian Indian can
do anything with a Peruvian camel, and Ramon
has just shown us the proper tactics. Hurt
the animal, and he only grows more sullen; but
the pebbles merely tease him ufitil he can bear
it no longer. And really, he repays patience
when he behaves well, for he is the only animal
that can work effectively at these terrific altitudes,
where horses and mules are practically useless.
But adeante / (forward!) the Professor con-
Is your Excellency going to Cerro de Pas-
co ?" asked the little Peruvian, running alongside
the mule and looking up at the Professor with


unusual animation in his non-committal face.
He had never spoken with Yankees before,
and indeed for any stranger to notice him kindly
was a new experience. He liked these pale
men; and a dim little wish to please them
warmed in his heart. That big young man -
why, he was taller than any Serrano in the cor-
dillera! was good. Ramon had seen money
a few times; but that round, shiny sol,* which
the stranger had tossed him when the llamas
moved, was the first he had ever held in his
hand, and it was almost a worry to be so rich !
But the other man, with a little gray above his
ears, who only looked at him so, and spoke as
if he knew him- he, surely, was very great;
and it was to him that the ragged boy said,
"Excelencia." His face was kindly; and there
were little smiles at the edges of his mouth,
though he did not laugh.
No, hijito (little son)," he answered, "we
are not bound to the mines. We are going to
climb the Chinchan, to look at the ice-cornices
and to measure them."
Even Ramon looked astonished at this. If a
Serrano had said it, every one would know he
was crazy. Or if it were the young man -
well, what could you expect of one who would
give away a whole sol ? But this one what-
ever he did, it must be right. He certainly was
not crazy. Still -
"But the Soroche, your Excellency," ven-
tured the boy. For all strangers have it; and
many die, even in crossing the slope. Only we
who were born here can go so high."
We have to go, my boy; for I must look at
the snow-fields and the cliffs of ice, and measure
them," said the Professor, kindly but with firm-
ness. "I know well of the mountain-sickness,
and we will be very careful.- Besides, we are
both very strong."
"It is not always of the strong," persisted
Ramon. Sometimes the sick cross in safety,
and those who are very large and red -even
larger than your Excellency's friend fall sud-
denly and never rise again; for the Soroche is
stronger than any."
You are quite right, my wise friend. It is
terrible. But all do not fall victims, and we
must brave it."

"At the least, Excellency, let me go also!
For I know these hills very well, and perhaps
I could help. As for the llamas, my brother
Sancho comes even yonder, and he will herd
"You won't really take the little rat up
there, will you, Professor ? broke in Barton.
"It would be the death of him."
"'M-m! I only hope we may be as safe
as he will! Estd bien,my boy! Vamos!" t
At nine next morning the three were en-
tering the edge of the snow-fields. They had
camped for the night in a deserted hovel at the
head of the valley; and there the mules could
still be seen grazing, pulling as far down hill as
their ropes would allow. The hut was not a
mile behind; but the travelers had been ever
since daylight coming thus far. The Professor
looked old; and Barton's big chest was heaving
violently. As for Ramon, he clambered along
steadily and soberly, stopping only when he
saw the others had stopped.
By noon they were at the foot of the last
ridge, in a great rounding bay flanked by two
spurs of the upper peak. The curving rim far
overhead was a savage cliff of eternal ice a
cliff of 1500 feet sheer. At the top a great
white brow projected many yards, overhanging
the bluish precipice.
It is a noble cornice," gasped the
Professor, as they sank upon the snow to rest
for the hundredth time since morning. But I
fear we made a mistake. We should
-not have- tried this without waiting
a- few weeks -in Casa-palca- to get- ac-
"It 's awful!" groaned Barton. "My head
- feels as if--it would burst. But I '11
be hanged if I- give up And the reso-
lute young man fairly snatched himself to erect-
ness, and started toward the spur. But with the
third step his tall form swung half around, and
swayed an instant, and fell as a dead pine falls
in the wind, and lay heavily upon the snow.
His face was black; and a bright red stream
trickled from each nostril as the Professor sank
on his knees beside him, crying huskily: My
- poor boy I have killed you "
The Professor's face had a strange look, too.

* The Peruvian silver dollar, t" All right. Come."




His eyes were very red and swollen-but that understood. Dazed as he was, the way in
was from the merciless glare of the snow-and which Ramon said that one word Come! "
in his cheeks a gray shadow seemed to be strug- roused and cheered him like the far bugle-call
gling with the unnatural purple. And he was which tells of reinforcements to the besieged.
He was not alone.
-__- ---- -- _Here was help-the
_am_____=_ help of a dwarfed In-
__di=an boy of fifteen!
StBut that is often the
__-___ very sort we need-not
_muscle so much as the
~elbow-touch of a stanch
But Barton ?"
said the Professor. He
could no longer think
in ii clearly; and instinc-
Stively he turned to
Ramon as a superior.
"Barton? We can-
not-leave -Barton!"
The Serrano lad looked
at the prostrate figure
and then at the Pro-
But even in those
S--:-- bloodshot eyes Ramon
S- read something that de-
cided him. It was very
hard, and it was more
dangerous, but the
.... ---.-- Friend-man loved the
-_-_--____- other. Then the other
must be tried for, too!
Ramon unwound his
Song woven belt and
passed it under Bar-
-- ton's back. The ends
_ he drew up under the
armpits, and crossed
"THE RAILROAD ABOVE THE CLOUDS." (SEE NEXT PAGE.) apithem andthe back of
them at the back of
so unlike the Professor of yesterday; he seemed the neck, giving one end to the Professor, and
so dull, even stupid! keeping one himself. Then, when they pulled
Come, Excellency!" Ramon was shouting apart, the crossing of the belt supported Bar-
in his ear. "It is the Soroche, the mountain- ton's head. "Now!" cried Ramon; and pull-
sickness, and none can fight it. We must be gone ing strongly, the two dragged the heavy form
from here, else very soon you are both dead. along the snow to the edge of the steep slope.
Come!" The small brown fist was tugging at The Professor's face was purple, and drops of
the old man's shoulder; and in the quaint, boy- blood beaded his finger-tips.
ish voice was a strange thrill. The Professor Let me, senior said the boy; and taking


both ends of the belt over his shoulder, he went
plunging down the declivity, Barton's limp head
bumping against his legs, and Barton's body and
heels dragging in the soft snow just enough to act
as a brake. As for the Professor, he stumbled af-
ter as best he could, with vague eyes and burst-
ing veins and treacherous legs. Sometimes he
fell forward and plowed a rod in the snow; and
once he was beginning to roll, but Ramon
leaped and stopped him just in time. And so
at last they came to the end of the snow. The
boy laid his burden upon the matted grass,
with head uphill, and piled a little drift of snow
about the head. "Put it so, also, to your head,"
said he, "and I will bring the mules."
With that Ramon was racing down the hill
in knowing zigzags, though it looked too steep
for a goat.
In half an hour a very tired boy was getting
two helpless men upon two almost helpless
mules. Perhaps if the latter had been able to
object, he could not have succeeded. But by
the help of the slope, and hauling with his belt
over the saddle from the down-hill side, he pres-
ently had both up. Barton's feet he tied to-
gether under the mule, and Barton's hands were
bound around its neck. The Professor could
sit up, in a stupid way, and Ramon tied only
his feet. "Hold well he cried loudly and
sternly, but with the same little quiver in his
voice; and taking both
bridle-reins in one hand
he plunged down the
hill, his weight thrown
forward upon the hard
bits so that the reluctant -
mules had no choice but
to follow.-
The only one of the
party who remembers
much of that grim jour-
ney is Ramon, and as
he is not much given to
talking, no one knows
just what he does think
of it. The Professor's
clear recollection be-

gins with finding himself on board the train
at Casapalca--a train of that most wonder-
ful railroad in the world, the railroad above
the clouds, that clambers up and burrows
through the cordillera of Peru. Before that,
are only hazy memories of a vast mountain-wall
leaning over to crush him; a winding path in
the air; a queer, boy's voice, coming from no-
where, with little Spanish words of cheer. And
now a round, brown face from the opposite side
was watching him seriously-even tenderly, the
Professor fancied-while the burly conductor
was saying:
I never see it come any closer! How ever
that boy got you in, beats my time. And I
saw he hated to leave you, so I says to him,
says I, Just get in, sonny, 'n' go down to Lima
with us, 'n' I '11 fetch you back. if I lose my job !
He 's the right sort, he is! An' you '11 be all
right, soon as you get down there that 's the
only medicine for the S'rochy."
All right they were, next day in the capital.
Even Barton was able to sit up; and he nodded
weakly as the Professor said to Ramon:
My boy, I would like you to go with us.
We have to travel much in Peru; and if you
will accompany us you will earn good wages.
And you shall be as my son. For neither of us
would be alive now if we had not had a little
hero with us. Will you come ?"
Joy flashed over Ra-
mon's face. But then it
faded, and tears started
Sin his eyes as he said
"You are good, Ex-
cellency! I would go
Anywhere with you. But
in the Chinchan is my
mother, with the babies;
and since father died,
I must be the Man, for
Sancho is too young.
And he ran out, so
that they should not see
him crying.





I WALKED one day, a long, long way,
Down to Topsy-Turvy Town,
Where it 's day all night, and it 's night all
day -
In the Land of Upside Down.
And who do you think was walking round?
Imagine it if you can:
In the Land of Upside Down I found
The Nobody Man!

His head was bowed, and he groaned aloud,
With the burden that he bore:
Misdeeds and mishaps, a wonderful crowd,
Till there seemed no room for more.
" And why are you so heavily tasked,
On such an unequal plan ? "
As I sat on a wayside seat, I asked
The Nobody Man.

He sat him nigh with a doleful sigh,
And he said: "It needs must be;
What 'Nobody' does at home so sly
Is shouldered here by me.
The slips and mishaps that are, soon or late,
Denied by the careless clan,
In the Land of Upside Down all weight
The Nobody Man."

He passed along with a doleful song,
This overburdened wight,
And, bowed with the weight of other folks'
He hobbled out of sight;
And I don't understand how it all can be,
Or why he should bear this ban,
But -well, 't was a wonderful thing to see
The Nobody Man!




.- ALF a hundred
centuries ago the
Egyptians gave to
J7 't rhe sword its name.
q Sir,:e those old days
.I. ti' h- i-z tory of the tren-
S: .'. I' l rnt blade, stained
i ',itR.h [i._-,od and defaced
,lI L. b tl, e i .-.r- :.. battle though
i huldsi muh of the glory,
the poetry, and the chivalry
l of the cruel game of war. A
friend whose fidelity never wa-
vered and whose power never
Failed, it is not surprising that
men endowed the sword not
Japanese swordand only with human attributes, but
gua'rdia. Thca with the might and majesty of
the gods themselves. The old legends abound
in tales of its magical powers. How the divine
armorers strove continually to excel some rival
in the forging of a blade of a temper so delicate
that it might cut a thread with the same ease
with which it struck a head from the body, or
hewed through heavy metal armor, was a favor-
ite subject of the old Teutonic and Viking
tales. These legendary blades bore charac-
teristic names, by which they were invariably
known: Graysteel, Wader through Sorrow, and
Millstone Biter were swords of wide renown;
and we all remember how Arthur of the Round
Table took Excalibur the sword that
rose from out the bosom of the lake." Caesar's

sword was called "Crocca Mors"; Charle-
magne's "Joyeuse" played no small part in the
setting up of the great Frankish empire; many
a bold captain went down before El Tizona,"
wielded by the relentless hand of the Cid.
Since fact and fancy both unite in telling of
its greatness, let us see what history really says
about the knightly weapon.
In the early ages, before men knew anything
about civilized ways, they lived in caves and
had to protect themselves not only from the
attacks of animals, but from those of their
human brothers as well. The first weapon
their unaccustomed fingers shaped was a war-
club. Experience, however, soon taught them
that a deadlier blow might be delivered with a
weapon that would cut rather than.crush, and
they made a hatchet. Then, one day, some-
one discovered a substance in the secret stores
of the good brown earth on which he finally
learned to put a keener edge than he had
ever been able to chip on his stone hatchet,
and the sword was made. From the remains
discovered in tombs and barrows, or mounds,
we know that these savage races gained a
certain degree of skill in fashioning bronze
and iron sword-blades. And from the care
with which it is evident that their bodies had
been buried, we infer that they are the re-
mains of chieftains and men of consequence,
and that they esteemed their swords most hon-
orable and perhaps useful companions in the
long journey to the world beyond.


Of the swords of the three great nations of
antiquity, the Assyrians, the Greeks, and the
Romans, we are able to get a remarkably clear
idea from the carvings they have left on tombs
and temples. The Assyrian sword had a slim,
two-edged blade merging into a handle that
was scarcely more than a haft. The decora-
tion was limited almost entirely to carvings of
the heads and bodies of animals, so placed, as
may be seen from the picture, as to give a singu-


I \

larly striking and distinguished character to the
In the many lively skirmishes that took
place around the walls of Troy during the
famous ten years' siege, the Greek warrior car-
ried an admirable sword. The rather long two-
edged blade with its gradual swell, that tapered
gracefully to a sharp point, has been likened
very aptly to the form of the sage-leaf. These
outlines were so good in themselves that any
extra decoration seems out of place. We find,
however, that delicate traceries on the blade,
and silver studs set thickly in the hilt, were
favorite ornaments. Although this sword was
shortened in later years, its beautiful outlines
were retained, and the sparing decoration of
blade, scabbard, and hilt was remarkably simple
and artistic, as befitted the Greek race.

But the sword that gained the greatest re-
nown in classical antiquity was the broadsword
of the Romans. The weapons commonly used
in the times before the Christian era were the
lance and the javelin. It was with these that
the unshaken strength of the far-famed Mace-
donian phalanx had been maintained against
many a fierce attack. The phalanx consisted
of foot-soldiers drawn up in line of battle,
four, eight, sixteen, or twenty-five ranks deep.
The men, who were heavily armored, held their
shields close together, edge to edge, and their
long spears tilted forward to protect the rank
in front. The broadsword of the Roman legion-
aries, however,-those sturdy fellows who knew
how to fight with a fortitude and tenacity that
have never been surpassed,-taught the Greek
a new lesson in military tactics. A successful
formation of the phalanx required careful pre-
paration, and a fairly level country was abso-
lutely necessary. When it was possible to com-
mand these conditions, the compact square of
spearmen presented a front that it was almost
impossible to break. But in a sudden encoun-
ter, or fighting at close quarters, an effective use
of the broadsword did not depend on any de-
finite order of formation, and it brought into
play quite another sort of courage. Men then
no longer fought as machines; it was the per-
sonal bravery of the individual, and not the
dumb, stolid resistance of ranks of human be-
ings formed into a living wall that won the day.
During the first twelve centuries of the Chris-
tian era the sword varied little, in the essential
features, from the lines of the broadsword.
The blade was lengthened, it is true, and less
curved; but the cross-pieces of the hilt were
usually straight, and the simple, workmanlike
look was preserved. The change to the elab-
orate hilts of several centuries later was made
gradually. There were slight changes in the
cross-pieces from time to time; the stiff straight
lines little by little began to curve gently to-
ward the blade. The knob at the end of the
handle, usually a simple disk or ball of metal,
was varied into a trefoil, a fluting, or a small
Maltese cross. Blades and scabbards were en-
graved with inscriptions, a practice which had
indeed been handed down from ancient times, as
swords have been found in Danish barrows bear-

ing unmistakable Runic characters cut in the ppn with such strength and skill that his name
bronze blades. The cross-hilted sword the Cru- became a terror to the foe. According to an old

saders carried on their pious errand to the
Holy Land not infrequently displayed the
sacred monogram, either carved or inlaid.
An oath sworn upon the sword was held
peculiarly sacred and binding, and it was a
common custom in England and elsewhere
to confirm a pledge in this way.
In the thirteenth, fourteenth,
and fifteenth centuries the de-
velopment of the sword was car-
ried forward rapidly. Hitherto,
the military organization of Europe had
been of the most irregular character; but
in the fourteenth century the German troops
and the men from the Swiss mountains be-
came known far and wide for their thorough
discipline and excellent organization. They
approached more nearly to the modern idea
of a soldier than any troops that had yet
been put in the field, and they were em-
ployed as hired troops by the various Eu-
ropean sovereigns. They were armed with a
pistol and a huge two-handed sword which,
through their marvelously skilful handling,
became one of the most famous weapons
of the armory. This "two-hander," as the
Germans called it, often reached a length
of seven feet, and one still preserved in
Westminster Abbey weighs quite eighteen
pounds. The wavy outline of the blade, a
style of decoration that was much in favor
in the arts about this time, and from which
came our word flamboyant," or "flaming,"
gave greater efficacy to the blow. The
prongs below the crosspieces protected
the guard. Wielded by trained men, this
weapon was capable of doing terrific exe-
cution. The brawny man-at-arms grasped
the sword firmly in both hands; balanced
on one foot, he swung the blade in a circle
above his head and fetched a crashing blow
that mowed down everything before it. It
was a favorite weapon with the English
soldiery, to whose strongly-built frames its
huge proportions were well adapted. Rich- A


romance, an expert swordsman might hope
to leave sixty of the enemy disabled on
the field; but these mighty brands had
all the faults of their virtues. Like the
cumbrous armor of the Gothic period,
they were a sore tax on the spent en-
ergies of the weary soldier; and,
owing to their awkward size,
extreme care was required in
handling them lest an unex-
pected blow might be bestowed
upon some fellow-soldier in the furious
Assault. Besides, it took a lifetime of
training to produce men of sufficient strength
and dexterity to render effective service.
The glorious epoch of the sword, how-
ever, was reached in the sixteenth century.
Great manual skill and a thorough training
in the arts were united in a marked de-
gree in the artisans of this period, and gave
to the products of the industrial arts a
permanent value and beauty. In the
shops of the metal-workers this proficiency
reached a rare excellence. War was the
main occupation of kings, and civil and
military pageants were the favorite pastime
of royalty. The armorers, consequently,
were in constant demand, and were untir-
ing in their efforts to produce costly, bril-
liant arms and coats of mail. Great artists
.devoted all the resources of their genius
to the enrichment of the sword. No metal
was too precious, no jewel too rare, no
fancy too ingenious for its decoration. Hilts
were encrusted with gems, set with medal-
lions, carved, embossed, inlaid; scabbards
of Spanish leather or Genoese velvet were
wrought with gold and silver embroidery;
blades of the finest steel were polished to
a dazzling luster, and engraved with in-
scriptions and arabesques. Every artifice
that a fertile imagination could devise and
cunning skill carry out was lavished upon
the decoration of the beloved weapon.
D- The Spanish towns were celebrated

ard the Lion-hearted, who from his great ,WIO throughout the civilized world for the excel-
size alone would have been the foremost BLADE. lence of their swords, and among them all
man on any field, handled this heavy wea- CENTURY. Toledo stood unrivaled for the temper of her

steel. The Toledo blade, famous in song and
story, was so keen, so flexible, and withal so
strong that its fineness became proverbial.
When the Moors overran Spain in the ninth
century, they were already masters of many
of the arts, and especially were they adepts
in. the working of metal. Their swords were
highly valued for their delicate temper, and
their special decoration which we still call
damascening was also justly prized. It was
from these conquerors that the Spaniards
learned much of their skill in forging and
tempering steel.
And that the completeness of the noblest
weapon men ever made should not be marred
by the lack of any element, natural or artifi-
cial, the fairy godmother, Nature, contributed
one more gift. On the banks of the Tagus
there is an abundance of fine sand. In the
process of forging, the metal is taken white-
hot from the furnace, and is subjected to a
cooling process. It was to the peculiar prop-
erties of this white Tagus sand, in which the
cooling blade was buried, that the Toledo
swords owed their unequaled hardness and
great flexibility.
The Italian cities produced some excellent
swords. The smiths of Milan and Florence
forged blades of exquisite temper, to which they
applied tasteful decorations. Benvenuto Cellini
made many a noble masterpiece in the endur-
ing steel, and Andrea Ferrara, whose swords
were in high favor in England and Scotland,
has left his signature on some weapons of fine
temper and rare workmanship. There were
celebrated sword-cutlers in France, the armor-
ers of Bordeaux being especially notable. The
German smiths excelled in the manufacture of
heavy armor, and the hilts of Nuremberg were
admirable. It would take, however, less than
the fingers of one hand to tell off the really
great swordmakers of England those worthy
of lasting fame.
The swords of the sixteenth century exhibit
such a diversity of form and design that, in or-
der to get a clear idea of the relation of the
parts, a brief explanation of the pieces and
the terms used to designate them may be
To understand exactly how the sword was


put together, let us glance at the diagram a
moment. The blade, marked A in the draw-
ing, narrows into a tapering spike, B, whichis
called the tang. This tang pierces the cross-
guard, C, C, called also the quillons, and runs
through the grip or barrel, D, to the pommel, E,
where it is firmly riveted a construction that
insures strength and absolute solidity. This
simple form of the sword prevailed until the
fifteenth century, as we have seen, when, to
perform the various duties to which it began to
be assigned, new pieces were added and the
old ones were modified. As the science of
swordsmanship developed, it was found neces-
sary to protect the hands of the combatants.
A guard and counterguard, which sprang from
the quillons and extended to the pommel, were
therefore introduced. The cup-guard, formed
of a cup-shaped piece of steel, pierced, and
decorated with flowers and foliage, served a
useful purpose in entangling the point of the
adversary's weapon in its perforations. A curi-
ous variation of the guard was called the pas
d'dne. It consisted of bent pieces, more or
less intricate, which twisted and turned upon
themselves, and ran down upon the blade for a
short distance. Each of these additions to the
hilt had its own special use in the beginning;
but when the art of sword-making be-
gan to decline, as it ()E did in the seven-
teenth century, they were made a mere
excuse for meaning- D less ornament.
The man of the sword who flour-
ishedinthe sixteenth
and the cA seventeenth
centuries B indulged a
most critical taste in the number and
quality of his wea- pons, each of which
had its own indi- vidual uses. The
stout plain sword A for the serious work
of fighting held the warmest place in
his esteem. When the soldier became,
for the time, acour- tier, he appeared
before his sover- eign, gorgeous in
velvet, satin, and lace ruffles, and
wore at his side a graceful toy he called a
court-sword. The dueling-sword, that figured
so prominently in those hurried and quiet little
affairs that took place in unfrequented byways,
was along, slim, sharply pointed weapon, flexi-


ble as a rib-
that cost the
a brave and
The "es-
long sword
ed man-at-
large to be
belt, where,
ready wore
sword, it

nary sword
only in size,
and being a
ing imple-
solely,it was
pointed and
ly hollow
need along VENETIAN
die of the UIONS.
great blade, to make
it as light as
possible. The ra-
pier was in general
use on the Continent
some years before it
made its appearance
in England, where,
it must be said, it
was received with

scorn and
ridicule, as
being much
too effeminate
for any self-respect-
to trifle with.
of France, Spain,
ever, were adepts
science of sword-
it with a fatal sub-
las, which we read
tain Marryat's stir-
in the thrilling sto-


bon, but with a sting
king's service many
dashing guardsman.
toc was the
of a mount-
arms. Too
carried at his
indeed, he al-
his ordinary
was hung
from the sad-

or chan-

ploits of pirates on
was short, and
flat in the
edg e.
of their

their curved
suggest the

die-bow. It the saber.
differedfrom the most impor-

is distinguish-
proper by the
which attains
at the back,
tive of the
ing cavalry

a weapon

ing son of Mars
The cavaliers
and Italy, how-
in the intricate
play, and used
tlety. The cut-
about in Cap-
sORD WITSH ring tales, and
HILT. ries of the ex-

the Spanish Main,
rather broad and
blade, which had an
ingly sharp double
Th'e yataghan and
bear the evidence
Oriental origin in

blades, and
ancestry of
The saber is
tant cutting im-
modem armies. It
ed from the sword
single-edged blade,
its greatest thickness
and is grimly sugges-
dire effects of a swing-
charge. The schia-
vone a notable

SPANISH SWORD, sword of the
WITH PAS D'ANE. Italian soldiery
-carried a con-
spicuous guard,
extending from the quillons to
the pommel, formed of a lattice-
work of metal bands that resembled
the plaiting of osiers in a basket. This
basket-hilted sword, as it was called,
was so closely allied to the claymore of
the Scotch Highlanders that they have fre-
quently been mistaken, one for the other.
The Japanese, whose civilization was old
before ours began, have produced beautiful
examples of the sword-maker's art. The
Japanese nobleman carried his swords as
the insignia of his rank. He wore one on
each side, thrust into the folds of his sash.
These swords have been handed down
oTU ITH CUEN as heirlooms from father to son; and
GUA. it was not unusual for families of an-

cient lineage to have as many as fifteen hun-
dred of them-marvels of costly and artistic
workmanship -in their possession. The scab-
bards are richly lacquered, and bound about
with a silken cord in a curious pattern, a
specimen of which is shown in the initial. The
blade is curved, and the round guard is pierced
to carry a small dagger. This guard, called a
tsuba, is decorated with curious designs; and




The general use of firearms increased steadily as
the awkwardness of the old snap-hammers and
wheel-locks was improved upon, and the nobler
weapon was gradually supplanted. Now, it is
complained, the traditions that hung about the
sword, the nice customs that controlled its use,
and the courtly manners its very presence seemed
to foster, have been forgotten: the king of wea-
pons has become simply one more ornament
with which to deck a full-dress uniform.
Such, sketched very lightly, is the merest
outline of the history of the sword; an intima-
tion only of the splendor and stateliness of the
weapon of whose achievements Sir Richard
Burton has said:

In the hands of the old Nilotes the sword
spread culture and civilization throughout ad-
joining Africa and Western Asia. The Phceni-

so great is the ingenu-
ity of the Japanese
metal-workers that
among the thousands
of swords they have
produced it is impos-
sible to find two guards
exactly alike. They
are prized so highly
by collectors that large
sums of money have
been paid frequently
for an antique sword,
only that it might be
ruthlessly torn apart to
secure the guard.
But the heyday of
the sword has passed.

I _________

USED IN 1864.

cians carried it wide and side over the world
then known to man. The Greeks won with it
their liberty, and developed with it their citizen-
ship. Wielded by the Romans, it enthroned the
reign of law, and laid the foundation for the
brotherhood of mankind. Thus, though it
soaked earth with the blood of her sons, the
sword has ever been true to its mission-the
progress of society."





THERE lived in ancient
Scribbletown a
wise old writer-
Whose name was
Homer Cicero
He 'd written treatises
and themes till
"For a change,"
he said,
"I think I '11 write a
children's book
before I go to

._I I


411/111' ~~

He pulled down all his musty tomes in Latin
and in Greek;
Consulted cyclopedias and manuscripts an-
Essays in Anthropology, studies in counter-
poise -
"For these," he said, are useful lore for little
girls and boys."

He scribbled hard, and scribbled fast, he burned
the midnight oil,
And when he reached "The End" he felt re-
warded for his toil;
He said, "This charming Children's Book is
greatly to my credit."
And now he 's sorely puzzled that no child
has ever read it.



[Begun in tie May number.]


IT is doubtful if Carrots often had a harder
task than that of remaining silent on the sub-
ject of the news-stand, when he went down-
town to work immediately after it had been
He had allowed himself to dwell upon the
possibility of owning an interest in a stand,
with a magnificent chair attached for the bene-
fit of customers to the boot-blacking portion
of the establishment, from the moment Teddy
first spoke of the scheme; and now that it was
really a fact, with the exception of the chair, it
seemed particularly hard that he must keep the
startling and pleasing information a profound
P'rhaps it 's jest as well not to flash it up
on the boys till after we get the whole thing in
style-bootblack's quarters an' all," he said to
himself in the hope of cheering his mind.
"When she 's in shape I reckon some of the
fellows in this town will find out that I can do
a thing or two, even if my hair is red! "
The fact that he was soon to become famous
in the eyes of his friends, if not of the entire
world, did not prevent Carrots from plunging
into the vortex of business with his whole heart;
for he understood how necessary it was to earn
the extra money which would be needed until
the business establishment was in a proper
financial condition, and he worked most in-
It was hard to keep his thoughts upon the
cleaning of muddy boots when he knew that
at that moment Ikey was presiding over the
stand with a "whole dollar's worth" of stock

in front of him, and more than once was -he
tempted to leave his business sufficiently long
to take just one peep at the place.
"I could sneak up there, an' look 'round the
corner without anybody's seeing' me," he said to
himself once when trade was dull; but, remem-
bering what Teddy had told him regarding the
necessity of "hustling," he put the temptation
far from his mind.
He did, however, so far give an inkling of
the change in his business prospects, as to say,
when Teenie Massey spoke about the difficulty
of finding customers:
P'rhaps there 's some in this town what
won't have to run 'round after trade very long;
but can sit down an' wait for boots to come to
"What do you mean ?" Teenie asked ex-
Nothing' much; but you '11 see something' to
'stonish you before many years."
I reckon I will," Teenie replied with a
sigh, as he thought how the time might drag
if he should be forced to wait so long before
seeing anything astonishing. Heard from
Skip this morning' ?"
"No, an' I 'm takin' mighty good care to
keep out of his way when the three of us ain't
together. I wonder if he '11 have the nerve
to set them boxes afire ?"
"I should n't wonder. Wheie are you goin'
to sleep to-night? "
"Well, you see it's hard to say, 'cause all the
swell places might be full when we get through
business. I did n't know but I 'd telephone
up to the Hoffman for quarters; yet there 's a
good deal of trouble in doin' sich a thing."
"Yes," Teenie replied sarcastically, "an' it
might be quite a bother to pay the bill for the


"I 'd be willing' to hang it up, if I was
counting' on doin' anything of that kind."
"Yes, but the other folks might have some-
thin' to say 'bout it. It '11 be cheaper to hunt
for a cart somewhere, or go down to the
Lodgin' House."
If Teenie had questioned him more closely,
Carrots might have been tempted to tell his
friend some ridiculous yarn, rather than reveal
the secret of the stand; but, fortunately, there
was no necessity of his doing anything of the
kind, for just at that moment the bootblack-
ing industry received a decided impetus by the
arrival of three gentlemen from the country,
who required the services of Carrots and his
Not until nearly noon did Master Williams
see his partner, and then he met him by chance
on the way to the newspaper offices for a fresh
How 's trade ?" Teddy asked.
First class. I 've taken in eighty cents
since I began; but it 's slackenin' off a little
now. How 're you getting' along? "
Great! It seems as if it was n't any trouble
to sell papers to-day. Say, at this rate we can
get in a bigger stock by night."
"That 's what we want," Carrots replied
gravely, looking as serious as if he had just
been called upon to decide a very important
question relative to some business policy. We
ought ter make as big a show as we can, 'cause
folks will see the stand has been opened ag'in,
an' they '11 look 'round the first thing to find
if we 've got much of a stock. Of course we're
goin' to keep all the weekly papers, ain't we ? "
I don't know if we ought ter put out so much
money yet a while."
"'Course we ought. Pitch in an' have things
fine. We can 'ford to invest what's been made
to-day, and you 'd better buy the stuff right
away," Carrots said as he handed Teddy the
money he had earned. I '11 get more between
now an' night to buy the supper with, so you
don't want ter tend to anything like that."
Teddy was undecided as to whether this
would be a wise move, so soon after taking
upon themselves the expense of paying rent;
but his partner was so eager it should be done
that he finally consented, and hurried away to

buy the additional stock, while Carrots searched
for customers.
It seemed strange to both the merchants that
Skip Jellison made no effort to annoy them on
this day, and they could account for it only on
the supposition that he did really intend to carry
out his plan of destroying the packing-case
home by fire.
No one should censure Carrots for ceasing
his labors at an unusually early hour because
of the fact that he was exceedingly anxious to
see his place of business in full operation, with
a clerk behind the counter.
In addition to this desire, he had promised
himself that, if trade should be brisk, he would
purchase a regular feast as a sort of house-
warming, a task which would require no slight
amount of time.
And business had been sufficiently good to
warrant his indulging in his treat.
He did not remember ever having made so
much money, in the same length of time, as on
this day the stand was opened.
He had given to Teddy his entire receipts
of the forenoon, and yet, an hour before sunset,
he had taken in sixty cents more, which was at
least twice as much as he thought would be
necessary for his purpose.
So determined was he that the feast should
be a perfect success that fully an hour was spent
in selecting the different articles, and then he
walked swiftly toward their new establishment.
It did not suit Carrots's purpose to go di-
rectly to the stand.
He wished to view it first at a distance, and
from the most favorable point, therefore he
came up Grand street, and stood on the oppo-
site corner fully ten minutes enjoying the scene,
before making known his presence to the clerk."
Well," he said to himself, in a tone of satis-
faction, as he surveyed the stand critically, "if
there 's a better-lookin' place in this city, I 'd
like to see it, that 's all! Why, it seems to be
chuck full of papers! An' don't the pictures
show up great ? Well, I should say they did!
I wish it was a little greener; but if business gits
good we can give it a new coat of paint some
night. An' I own half of all that! I 'm
coming' it mighty strong, 'cordin' to my way of-
Jiminy!- Ikey 's selling' something' now! "



Carrots could not remain concealed.
Money was actually being paid into his es-
tablishment by a customer who had come there
of his own free will, and the junior partner of
the firm of Thurston and Williams felt it impos-
sible to stay away from the enchanting place
any longer.
Running swiftly across the street he threw
his many packages on the counter with the air
of a proprietor, just in
time to see Ikey pass
the gentleman ten cents
in change.
"What did he give
you ?" Carrots asked i
"A quarter."
"What-a quarter?"
the young merchant
exclaimed in surprise.
"Do you mean to tell
me he bought fifteen
cents' worth all at one
time ?"
"Course I do," Ikey
replied, as if he was
accustomed to making
such large sales. "Why,
I had one man who got
twenty cents' worth, an'
he asked me if the stand
was goin' to be kept
open right along now."
"Did you tell him
who owned it ?"
"Of course; an' he
said he'd buy his papers
here all the time."
Well, I'm a Dutch-
man if I thought busi-
ness was so big with a HOW DID YOU KNOW CARR
stand! I can't see what
made the other fellow give it up. How much
money did you take in altogether?"
"Let's see," and Ikey knit his brow as he
called upon his memory to aid him in the ac-
count. There was two dollars 'n' forty-two
cents, an' now I 've got fifteen more; that
makes-forty-two an' ten is fifty-two, an' five
is fifty-seven-two dollars 'n' fifty-seven cents."
VOL. XXIII.-51-52.

Well, I '11 be jiggered and Carrots found
it necessary to enter the stand for the purpose
of seeing and handling the money before he
could be convinced his clerk had told him no
more than the truth.
"Well, 'cordin' to the looks of things we 've
struck a regular gold mine here; an' it won't be
very long before I can git a chair that '11 knock
the Italian's all out er sight! "


If my leg was n't so lame I could make a
good deal more; but you see I don't dare to
jump on an' off the cars."
"Put those things under the counter, an'
give me a pile of papers! Carrots cried.
We '11 soon know what this kind of trade is
When Teddy returned from down town, be-


living business to be finished for the day, Car-
rots was still actively engaged; and not until
nearly eight o'clock did either of the partners
think it prudent to cease work.
"That 's what I call making' things hum!"
Carrots said as the two entered the stand, after
" shutting up shop by raising the shutter which
served as a counter during the day. "I 've
sold sixteen papers since I come up to-night,
an' might 'a' done a good deal more if the stock
had n't run out. How much do you s'pose
we 've made? "
We '11 soon know, after I go for a candle,"
Teddy replied.
I bought three, so's we could have a regular
blow-out for the first night," Carrots said as he
produced the articles in question. "You figure
up, an' I '11 get the grub together."
It was necessary Teddy should take an ac-
count of the stock on hand before the profits
could be ascertained, and then, to the surprise
of his partner and clerk, he announced that the
amount which had been made in both branches
of the business was three dollars and sixty-one
Now, if that ain't getting rich fast, I 'd like
to know what you'd call it!" Carrots ex-
claimed, as he ceased his labor of slicing a
bologna sausage, to verify his partner's figures.
If things keep on at this rate it won't be sich
a dreadful while before we '11 have to rent a
regular store."
"It 's a good deal bigger 'n I expected,"
Teddy admitted; "an' we must n't count on
doin' the same every day. Half as well will
satisfy me."
But we shall make twice as much if the
hoss-cars an' stores are worked. Jest wait till I
get a chair here, so 's I can keep the trade
hummin' when there is n't any shinin' to be done,
an' you '11 see how the money's bound to come
tumblin' in. The feller what gave up this
stand must 'a' been a chump "
I don't s'pose he tended to business,"
Teddy said solemnly, as he placed the stock on
a shelf, and prepared to join in the feast.
"This place is goin' to be mighty snug to live
in; but it is n't so handy as the yard, 'cause a
feller 's got to hunt 'round for water when he
wants to wash his face."

If trade keeps on like this I '11 'gree not to
let a drop of water come near me for a year,"
Carrots exclaimed.
"An' the customers would keep away too, I
reckon. But say, Carrots, is n't this goin' it
rather strong for supper ? Teddy asked almost
sternly, as he gazed at the newspaper spread
on the floor of the stand, and heaped high
with such delicacies as bolivarss," bolognas, and
pickled sheep's-tongues.
"I reckon it is; but you see it 's the first
night, an' I counted on spreadin' myself some.
There 's three of us, you know, so it takes a
lot of grub to go 'round."
"It won't do to keep this thing up," Teddy
said, as he shook his head gravely.
Course not; but to-night does n't count.
Now pitch right in, both of you, an' let 's have
a high old time."
Ikey had already begun to do his share, and,
as the others joined him, the silence within the
stand was broken only by Carrots's gasps, for
he ate so eagerly that he hardly gave himself
time to breathe properly.
The candle was standing in one corner, in a
bottle, while under the counter was a pile of
straw which Ikey had gathered to serve as
beds; and these gave the place such an air of
home, as, according to Carrots's ideas, it would
be hard to find elsewhere.
"I sha'ri't go to the Hoffman House agin',"
he said in a tone of content, as he gazed around
complacently after it was absolutely impossible
to eat any more. "This is about the swellest
place in this city, an' the fellows 'd be wild if
they could see us. Mighty lucky for you, Ikey,
that we got this stand jest as we did, for now
you won't have to lay low while your leg 's
getting' well."
"It 's a dandy! Ikey replied, enthusiasti-
cally, "an' I would n't ask anything' better 'n
to stay here all the time."
If trade keeps on as it 's begun, I reckon
we can 'ford to hire you right along, eh,
Teddy ?"
Before Master Thurston could reply, the
clang and rattle of a fire-engine broke upon
the stillness, and all three rushed out of the
stand in the shortest possible time.
It's down near where I used to live Car-


rots cried, as he saw the engine turning the
corner. Do you s'pose Skip has really dared
to do what he threatened ? "
Ikey,you '11 have to stay here 'cause you can't
run," Teddy said, hurriedly. "Keep the door
locked, an' Carrots and I '11 come right back."
Then the partners started at full speed; and,
although they had been warned that such
might be the case, both were astonished almost
beyond the power of speech, at finding that the
blaze actually proceeded from the backyard
where Carrots had spent so many nights.
He 's really gone an' done it!" Master
Williams exclaimed in a tone of awe, and just
at that moment Reddy Jackson stepped from
among the network of hose, whence he had
evidently been trying to peer into the yard.
Why, how did you come here ? he cried
in astonishment. I thought there was n't any
other way but this, to get out from where you
How did you know Carrots lived here ?"
Teddy asked sternly.
Why, some of the fellows told me, of course,"
Master Jackson replied hesitatingly.
"They did n't; 'cause nobody knew except
Teenie Massey, an' I 'm sure he has n't said
anything," Carrots cried. I 've heard 'bout
Skip 's threatening' to burn this place, an' it was
Skip that started the fire."
What 're you yellin' so for ?" Reddy cried
nervously. "Do you want everybody to hear?"
"I don't care if they do," said Carrots, sturdily.

"Skip '11 be after you, if he knows you 're
sayin' sich things. He ain't through with you
an' this country jay yet."
No; nor he won't be till he gives up that
dollar he stole," Teddy said sternly. If he
is n't 'rested for setting' this place on fire, you
tell him I '11 be down front of City Hall by
seven o'clock to-morrow morning so 's he can
begin the driving Let him git all his friends
there, an' show 'em the fun."
Oh, yes, you '11 be there, o' course!" Reddy
replied with a sneer.
"Don't make any mistake 'bout it. I 'm
coming' down to give him his chance."
"Want ter git inter the station-house ag'in,
eh ? They must 'a' treated you mighty fine."
Don't you worry about my bein' 'rested, an'
if Skip Jellison cares to see me after what he 's
done to-night, let him be there," Teddy said in
a dignified tone, as he motioned for Carrots
to follow him to the opposite side of the street,
where they could be nearly alone.
What kind of a row are you goin' to git
inter now ? Carrots asked, his voice literally
trembling with fear. Of course Skip '11 be in
front of City Hall, 'cause there 's where he
always hangs out. You must keep clear of
that place."
I want him to see me when there 's a big
crowd 'round, an' I 'm goin' to get some of that
money he stole, between now an' to-morrow
night," Teddy said, in such a positive tone that
Carrots was plunged into bewilderment.

(To be continued.)



OUR little Estelle
Was perplexed when she found
That this wonderful world
That we live on, is round.

How 't is held in its place
In its orbit so true
Was a puzzle to her,
With no answer in view.

" It must be," said Estelle,
Like a ball in the air
That is hung by a string;-
But the string is n't there!"




LITTLE West Indian girl was
playing with her old black nurse
Sunder the orange-trees. She
had her lap full of sweet-scented
frangipani flowers, and was mak-
ing a pink rope of them, sticking the tube of
each flower into the mouth of the next one,
as our children string honeysuckles. The old
nurse was crooning softly to herself, and watch-
ing the child with half-closed eyes; it was almost
noon, and the warm air made her drowsy.
"Where 's papa ?" asked the child.
"Mahstah Bell? Me not know, missy. He
go to Cumb'land dis mawnin' fo' see dat sick
man; he was come back 'fo' miamh" (he was
to have been back before breakfast, she meant),
" but he don' come no moah."
The little girl's father was a physician, and
she understood that his duties often kept him
away from home. Her face clouded with dis-
appointment for a moment, and then she went
on stringing the frangipani flowers.
Suddenly she dropped them, and threw up her
hands in alarm; the ground beneath was sway-
ing and trembling, and there was a noise like
distant thunder. The old woman threw her-
self on her face, beating her woolly head, and
screaming, 0 Lordy! Ah, poo' me! poo' me!"
But it was over in a moment. The child
recovered herself first and began to laugh,
though rather nervously. "It 's only an earth-
quake," she said. "Stop crying, mammy; that's
Mammy sat up, but she did not laugh.
" Missy Lyddy," she said, solemnly, dat no
earfquake; dat Moco-jumbo bawlin' away in
um mountain, 'cause he well mad."
The Souffriere was a volcano some miles dis-
tant. Lydia had never been there, but she
had heard of the great crater, and the cone-

shaped hill in the middle of it that was always
smoking a little. Only the day before, her fa-
ther with some other gentlemen had climbed
the mountain, and they had noticed that the
cone was quite covered with vapor.
Lydia crept up to her nurse, half-frightened
and half incredulous.
But the earthquakes don't hurt people,"
she said. Papa told me they were just little
ones, not like those in the Spanish countries.
There they are too awful. Why, they make
houses fall down, and kill all the people."
"Dunno 'bout dose. In my country" (the
old woman had been born in Africa) dey not
shake um groun' nevah. Moco-jumbo not so
bad in my country, 'cause niggah say pray to
he; nevah say no pray to he in dis country; so
he git mad an' bawl."
It was of course very foolish of the old wo-
man to talk so; but she was full of the old
pagan superstitions of her race, though she
called herself a Christian.
The child listened in fear; she was so ner-
vous by this time that when a bell sounded
near by, she screamed, and clung to the nurse.
Dat nothing Dat's jes bell fo' niggah stop
work in cane-field." It was the noon bell on a
neighboring plantation.
But just then there came a mighty crash -
a sound so awful, so stupendous, that the very
trees and grass shook with it; the ground
rocked and quivered. People ran screaming
from the village houses, and threw themselves
on their knees, praying and crying and trem-
bling; a horse galloped madly down the road,
the broken reins trailing behind him; the dogs
cowered and whined.
With a shrill scream the old woman flung
herself on the earth as if she would burrow into
it; the little girl sank on her knees, sobbing and


moaning, frightened beyond measure, and no
Lydia Lydia! called her father, who had
just come in. He ran out of the house and
caught her in his arms.
Oh, papa! what is it? Mammy says it 's
Moco-jumbo. I 'm too frightened," sobbed the
"Nonsense!" said Dr. Bell, though he
looked grave enough; "there 's no such thing

Indeed it looked so at first, for the sides of
the column were quite straight, so that it
seemed solid; but as the wind caught it, clouds
of smoke broke away and drifted westward,
darkening the whole sky. After the first crash
there had been silence for a moment; but now
began a sullen roar like distant thunder, almost
continuous though not very loud. All the vil-
lagers were out by this time, some watching the
mountain, some running off over the road,


as Moco-jumbo. It 's the volcano that has
burst out. See there!" and he pointed to
where a vast column of pitchy smoke was
Mrs. Bell ran out with little Ruby, and all
stood watching the mountain. The black mass
rose and rose over hills and trees, slowly, it
seemed, because they were so far away; but in
reality the great cloud was shooting up two
hundred feet a second: an awful and yet a
magnificent sight.
"Oh, papa!" cried Lyddy, "it 's a great,
big, large black log sticking up into the sky! "

some especially the negroes sobbing and
Mrs. Bell herself was very nervous, and a lit-
tle inclined to cry; but she was a brave lady
after all, and soon set herself to quieting the
children. Fortunately, Dr. Bell was a man of
intelligence and courage; and he had long
thought that an eruption was probable. During
the past year there had been earthquakes al-
most every day, and sometimes two or three in
one day-slight ones, doing no damage, but
keeping the ignorant people in a state of con-
stant alarm. Dr. Bell had noticed that these little


earthquakes were always more apparent around
the base of the old volcano, and he had rea-
soned that they were caused by some force be-
neath it which might become more violent at
any time.
Now he took a cheerful tone, to comfort
the others. "This eruption had to come,"
he declared, "but it will be a good thing in
the end; it will put a stop to all these earth-
quakes. We 're out of the way of any lava-
flow, and if there's danger we shall have plenty
of time to get away to Barrouallie or Kings-
town. I 'm glad it did n't come yesterday,
when I was up there."
He and other gentlemen did all they could
to quiet the negroes; and when people saw
that only smoke came from the volcano, they
thought the worst was over, and took courage.
Late in the afternoon Dr. Bell went with his
wife and the children to the market-square,
where they had a better view of the mountain.
Half the villagers were gathered there watching
it; and truly it was a grand sight. All the
afternoon that black pillar shot into the sky,
half a mile broad and four or five miles high,
it was thought, and the clouds of smoke rolled
off westward, far out to sea. There were no
flames, but now and then a vivid flash of light-
ning would shoot over the column. All the
time they heard that sound, like low thunder,
never ceasing, yet never very loud.
Late in the day the smoke-cloud drifted over
the village, bringing stifling sulphur-fumes with
it; and presently white ashes began to float
People coming from Richmond Plantation and
Wallibou reported that the ground there was
quite covered with ashes and sand. Then came
canoes full of Indians who had fled from their
settlement at Morne Ronde, just at the base
of the volcano.
All this Lydia saw, standing by her mother's
side in the market-square; little four-year-old
Ruby gazing also with wide-open eyes, but un-
derstanding very little of it all. After a while
they went home; the frightened servants were
called in, and Mrs. Bell managed to get supper.
The doctor was talking cheerfully all the time,
and indeed it seemed now that there was not
much to fear. As night came on, a slight glow

of fire could be seen on the mountain, and the
smoke-column was as thick as ever; but that
was all. Most of the villagers gave up watch-
ing it and went home to bed. Lydia slept
soundly with her arms around little Ruby;
the children, after their first fright, had quite
enjoyed the excitement.
When Lydia woke next morning-it was
Tuesday-the rumbling sound was louder than
before, and there was a strong smell of burning
sulphur. The little girls ran out of doors, and
found the grass and trees everywhere white
with ashes which were floating down.
Dah, Missy Lyddy," cried old mammy,
hobbling up, what me tell you, eh ? Moco-
jumbo coming' fas' enough now "
Just then Dr. Bell strode out of the house,
took the old woman by the shoulders, and
shook her as he gave her another scolding.
He was not at all a cruel man, but he was
thoroughly vexed at Mammy for frightening the
children with her Moco-jumbo nonsense.
"See here, Mammy!" he said, at length;
"you must stop that, or I '11 have you pun-
ished. So take care!" The old woman, on
this, retreated, muttering to herself; and there-
after she was more chary with her tongue.
Mammy held her master in great awe, and
knew he would do as he promised.
All that day the eruption continued, and all
the next, the ashes falling lightly at times, as
smoke-clouds drifted over the village. On
Wednesday the sky was again darkened, so
that they had to light candles in the house, and
the air was full of ashes. Through the gloom
they could see flashes of fire on the mountain.
But children get used to anything. Lydia and
Ruby played about under the orange-trees, soil-
ing their frocks with the ashes, and only paus-
ing now and then as the fire gleamed brighter
or the hoarse rumbling increased. The plan-
tation negroes had gone back to work, and the
morning and noon bells rang as usual.
On Wednesday night Dr. Bell was called to a
patient at Wallibou, three miles away, and much
nearer the mountain. At first he hesitated to
leave his family; but the call was an urgent
one, so he went, promising to be back next
Early on Thursday morning the children


jumped from their beds and ran out, as usual,
to see the volcano. Oh, mother!" cried
Lyddy with delight. Come quick! It's too
It was a wonderful sight. The wind had
wafted the smoke clouds from above them; the
rising sun shone on that giant mass, and from
black it turned to silver and purple and gold;
even the negroes stopped their work to gaze at
it. But as they gazed a lurid yellow crept over
it; the rumbling sound increased to a roar, and
the smoke-column rose higher; there was more
to come yet.
Mrs. Bell was very nervous; the more so when
a messenger came from her husband, saying
he would be detained all day. There were ex-
plosions like thunder, that frightened the chil-
dren. Little Ruby began to cry, and would
hardly be comforted.
By noon the rumbling noise grew and grew
until it was a mighty roar. The ground be-
gan to tremble, not with the rocking motion of
an earthquake, but vibrating continually, as a
railroad bridge does when a heavy train passes
over it. The children, clinging to their mother,
watched the smoke-column in awe and wonder.
It streamed into the sky like molten pitch, fired
now and then by a flash of lightning, or a glow
of flame from the crater. The roaring was so
loud that at a little distance they could hardly
hear one another speak.
The negroes forsook their work in terror;
people hurried southward for refuge, women
screamed, the dogs crept off to hiding-places,
and cattle wandered moaning, half-starved be-
cause all the grass was covered with ashes.
Once Lydia ran to pick up a little bird that fell
near them. It had been overpowered by the
vapor, or perhaps hit by one of the small stones
that began to drop. Most of these stones
were very light, like pumice, else they would
have done more damage.
Mrs. Bell grew hourly more anxious. Once
or twice she half resolved to go with her chil-
dren to some safer place. But a gentleman
who passed advised her not to; he said he
believed they were quite secure there, so long
as only the light ashes fell, and he was sure
Dr. Bell would hasten back to his family if
there was any immediate danger.




By four o'clock the noise was frightful; so
loud at times that they stopped their ears;
talking was impossible unless they screamed
close to each other; and the earth was trem-
bling as if it shared their terror. Little Ruby,
in her mother's lap, was moaning and clinging,
the poor little face all begrimed with ashes and
streaked with tears. The servants, old Mammy
included, had disappeared. Mrs. Bell had
trouble enough to find some supper, and when
they had eaten it she took the children to the
market square, mainly for the comfort of being
with other people. It was small comfort.
Most of the crowd were negroes, and they were
groaning on the ground, half dead with terror;
only a few of the men showed a little courage.
About seven o'clock in the evening there
was a louder crash, if possible; and suddenly,
through the smoke, a pillar of fire shot up,
spreading as it rose, and dazzling as molten
iron. In that fierce glow the darkness turned
to a lurid day; the sea all around caught the
gleam and every wave was tinged with angry
red. And then, as the fire ascended, forked
lightning began to play through the smoke,
deafening claps of thunder sounded through
the roar and trembling. Then came great
balls of dazzling fire, shooting up from the cra-
ter; some falling back into it, some hurled over
on the mountain-side, where they set the trees
and bushes ablaze. And then the awe-struck
crowd saw a great river of fire sweep down
from the crater, rumbling and hissing as it came,
with meteor-like balls hurled here and there,
and the whole mountain-side blazing in its
At first it seemed to be coming toward them;
then it divided at some mountain ridge, and
they could see fresh billows of fire pressing
over it until it turned westward and was lost
to sight behind a hill. An hour later it reap-
peared near the coast, three miles north of
them; and at length it reached the sea, and
they could hear the water hissing even in the
constant din of the eruption.
Mrs. Bell knew that her husband was at
Wallibou, almost in the track of this lava-river;
and her heart sank, for she feared he was
overwhelmed in it. In her anxiety for him,
she hardly noticed another stream of fire that


flowed down the eastern side of the mountain.
So she stood in the market square until after
midnight. A neighbor laid a blanket on the
ground for the children to lie on; they were
silent between fright and admiration, until
nature got the better of them and they fell
asleep. Lydia remembered closing her eyes to
keep out the glow, and that was all until Mrs.
Bell roused her to go home at
one o'clock in the ni._i ri .._. Ilte
followed her moth..-r -.:i- ., I.I
first; but just as their, r:.:l.:.l I tli-.
house they were st.irti-.: L., n. i .
earthquake shock it-it .iinr
threw them down. It !::...i '
only a few second. iiil.
among so many tr:il.: 1l
things, they hardly rn.'..ed
it. After waiting n !;ril.-
and finding that ither,
was no other sho.-1
but only the con- .
stant trembling, f-
Mrs. Bell took
them into the
Patter! tat-
tat! came a
noise on the
roof. It was a
shower of cin- '
ders and pum-
ice-stones, light -
as chips. Look- :'
ing through the t.r ., '
window, Mrs., .
Bell saw with
alarmthat some '
of them were OE
red-hot; one
fell on a thatch- "SHE TOOK THE CHILDREN TO THE M.
ed roof near by,
and set it ablaze; but the men threw a bucket
of water over it, putting the fire out in a
minute. Mrs. Bell laid the children in bed,
because she did not know what else to do;
but she did not undress them, and for two
or three hours she sat by the window, far too
nervous to sleep. Indeed, it was an anxious
night for her. She thought her husband must

be dead, and she did not know how soon the
village itself might be overwhelmed by a shower
of ashes, or set on fire by hot cinders.
About four o'clock there was a loud clatter on
the roof. Lydia. started awake, and sat up in bed
listening to it; the air seemed to be full of flying
stones. Her mother came and tried to soothe
her, but she was badly frightened herself.

rd VL U O 'i. ,n:nr. -..[t.lt .l L:.!nll
v.1 i ill it i .r ,. r t.:| -

ki .....k : -t i .-r :*- r. *- R u i 1 Rr. r
-lie d tu *:ne. Th 1r.: M .i .in
ARKET-SQUARE, is raining stones. Run to Bar-
Mrs. Bell caught up Lydia's old-fashioned
peaked hat, and put it on her head; then she
picked up the sleeping Ruby and ran out of
the door, Lydia following. Luckily, most of
the stones had fallen in the first shower, and
only here and there one was dropping. People
were hurrying along the road, and they joined
the stream, running as fast as they could over




the hill southward. On top of the ridge Lydia
turned for a moment to look at that awful,
flaming mass,-the great column of fire flashing
through the smoke-pall, the lightning darting
over it, the two rivers of lava flowing east and
west,- and that was the last she saw of the
eruption. But just as she turned again, a small
stone hit her peaked hat, and glanced off with-
out hurting her.
Mother! mother! she cried, "a stone hit
Perhaps her mother did not hear her in the
din; she answered nothing, but presently took
Lydia's hand, for the child was panting for
breath. Hurry she said.
And hurry they did, for miles. I think the
neighbors must have helped them; at all events,
about noon Mrs. Bell dragged herself and her
children up to her brother's house, eleven miles
south of their home in Chateaubelair. I have
been over the road myself many a time, and
know it as a rough and hard one even for a
man; it must have been far worse for this
tired, frightened woman and her children.
This story is a true one, and was told to me
by Lydia herself. She was a very old woman
when I saw her,--past ninety years,--and all
that I have related occurred in 1812, eighty-four
years ago. It was the great eruption of the
Souffriere of St. Vincent, one of the smaller West
Indian islands. It began at noon on April 27,
and the worst was ended by the afternoon of
May i, the day when Mrs. Bell and her children
reached her brother's house near Barrouallie.
Lydia Bell sat in our house at Chateaubelair
as she told the story; a cheery old lady, with
keen eyes, and skin dry as parchment and
much yellower.
She told also of the wonder and sympathy of
her uncle's family; how the fugitives were put
to bed and petted and comforted.
And her father was safe, after all. For some
reason he was detained until the great burst of
fire, and then he thought it wiser not to come,
because he would have been obliged to pass a
valley where he judged that the lava might de-
scend. As the fact showed, he was right; the
lava rushed down this very valley, overwhelm-
ing several negro houses and killing some per-
sons who were trying to pass. Wallibou was

cut off from the rest of the island by this
river of fire; but next day Dr. Bell got a
canoe and came around to his family by sea.
Their house, too, was safe, and they might
even have remained in it had they known;
for hardly any stones fell at Chateaubelair after
the first shower: indeed, no large ones fell
there at all.
But the bombardment in some places must
have been terrible. I have seen tracts of land,
once smooth and fertile plantations, now cov-
ered with the great rugged stones so that you
have to pick your way among them as you
pass. Many of them are four or five feet broad.
Of course, these are only the larger stones; the
little ones were buried under the soil long ago.
Stones seem to have fallen all through the
eruption, sometimes in one place, sometimes in
another. Not long after the first expulsion of
smoke, a negro boy was tending goats on a
hillside; I have seen the place often. Sud-
denly a small stone fell near him, and then
another. He thought that some of his play-
mates were pelting him from the bushes, and
so began to throw stones in return. But the
contest was too unequal, for it was the moun-
tain that was throwing stones at him; and
erelong he fled in terror, leaving his goats to
their fate.
I have no space to tell you the whole story
of this great eruption: how many plantations
were ruined by the shower of stones, and, far
worse, how fifty or perhaps a hundred people
were killed by them, with great numbers of cat-
tle and horses; how the lava dammed back a
stream and formed a boiling lake, which broke
through after a month and came hissing down
the valley, overwhelming a whole negro settle-
ment; how ashes were carried five or six hun-
dred miles out to sea, and Barbados, eighty
miles off, was darkened by the cloud, so that
people had to grope their way at noon and use
candles in their houses; how the explosions
were heard hundreds of miles away, and it was
thought that they were the guns of a great fleet
or army.
But one thing I must tell you. When the
eruption was over, and people could ascend the
mountain again, they, found the crater--the
one Dr. Bell had visited--all changed. In-


stead of the smoking cone, there was a lake of
water nine hundred feet below, filling the whole
area, and so deep that no one has ever been able
to fathom it. And beside this, separated from
it only by a thin wall, they found a new crater,
even larger; it was nearly a mile long, three
quarters of a mile wide, and eight hundred feet
deep, with sides like walls. That pit was blown
out by the great explosion.
I have stood between the two craters, and

looked down into them. The new one is green
and pretty now, with bushes and ferns, and no
signs of fire; but the old one is a hideous
depth of gray green water, through which bub-
bles are always ascending and bursting into
sulphur fumes at the top. Sometimes the wind
carries these fumes over the neighboring plan-
tations, for miles around, as if to warn people
that the old fires are not yet extinct. I hope
it may be long before they break out again!


(A Story of the Year 30 A. D.)


[Begun in the November number. ]



WHEN Cyril reached Capernaum he did not
find Lois at the house of Abigail. He went
there at once, only to be told that his sister had
gone to the house of Simon Peter to help, for
his wife's mother was sick.
Simon's house was toward the sea; and even
before Cyril reached the house he learned that
Jesus had not yet returned to Capernaum. He
was preaching in one of the neighboring vil-
lages, and would not be in his own town again
before the Sabbath.
Lois had watched for her brother when the
time for Cyril's arrival drew near, and he found
her waiting for him in the porch of Simon's
house. Her face seemed sad, too, in spite of
the pleasure she felt at seeing him.
I am so glad thou art here," she said, in
her very earnest welcome. I hope that the
Teacher will come! She is so sick, I think she
will die. Where didst thou leave him?"
Cyril had a wonderful story to tell, but he
did not tell it to Lois alone. Even Simon's
wife left her mother for a moment, and came

out of the house, and some of her friends came
with her. The nearer neighbors had seen Cyril
arrive, and they gathered about him to learn
the news, according to the custom of village
folk. He was quickly the center of a little
group of questioners and hearers, old and
young, and to them he related the clearing of
the Temple by the Teacher of Galilee. Yet
they were not so much impressed by the stories
of cures, for these Cyril had heard of but had
not seen.
"Thou shouldst have remained with him,"
said Lois, reproachfully. "Then thou couldst
have told us more of what he did."
He will be here on the Sabbath," replied
Cyril. "Ye will then see for yourselves what
he will do."
He will not cure anybody on the Sabbath,"
remarked one of his hearers. "We must wait
until next week."
The people separated, and Cyril went into
the house; but the questions of Lois had only
begun. As they went in, however, she pointed
toward the door of the sick room and whis-
If the Master could cure her! We think
she cannot live. I wish he would come! He
does not even know she is sick. Simon is with



him, and perhaps even he has not yet heard of
her sickness."
Cyril sympathized with her thoroughly, but
as he turned to go, he exclaimed again:
"Lois, if thou hadst but seen him in the
Temple. He fears no one. I hope that he
will be our leader against the Romans."
Cyril believed that the time for him to be a
soldier was drawing near. All through that
night he dreamed of marching legions and of
battle-fields. When the next morning came he
went out to find that the people of Capernaum
were waiting in a state of impatient expectation
for the arrival of the man whom some of them
called The Prophet of Galilee."
The Sabbath began with the evening of our
Friday, and the sun set without the arrival of
any further tidings except that the Teacher
might be expected to preach in the synagogue
on the next day. During that sixth day Lois
was too busy for more than a brief talk with
her brother, but she was waiting even more
eagerly than he.
Sabbath morning came, and the hour (about
nine o'clock of our time) for the synagogue ser-
vices drew near, but Ben Nassur had not been
seen in Capernaum. Cyril prepared to go
early, but Lois was to remain at Simon's house.
She was sincerely glad to be there and to help,
but she could not help saying to herself: I
wish I could be at the synagogue, and that
I could see and hear him! "
The first thing that Cyril saw to interest him
that Sabbath morning was the throng passing
along the street toward the synagogue, with
the Teacher. He had walked several miles to
reach the synagogue, and some of his followers
had come all the way with him.
"There is Ben Nassur," exclaimed Cyril.
" But who is that behind him ? "
The very strict rabbi had strained a point
and had walked further than the Law allowed
on the Sabbath, in order to attend these syna-
gogue services. The throng was dense, so that
the Teacher and his disciples advanced slowly.
Among the crowd walked a tall, haggard, wild-
eyed man, to whom no other spoke, and from
whose parched and panting lips no sound was
"Is he insane?" whispered Cyril to Ben

yiKNK & YUi\. 411
Nassur, when they met and when the rabbi
had greeted his young kinsman.
"Not so," responded Ben Nassur. He
hath a demon, it is said. Such cases are more
and more numerous, nowadays. Only the
chief priests can aid these sufferers they and
the most learned rabbis."
Cyril had heard that even the rabbis and the
priests avoided undertaking to remedy these
evils, which some called casting out unclean
spirits, and he asked the question, What is this
they call a demon' ? "
"No man knoweth," calmly replied the
rabbi. "But I have thought that Herod hath
one," he added thoughtfully.
The Teacher was now going into the syna-
gogue, and Ben Nassur followed at once, for he
wished to secure a place from which he could
hear what was said.
During all the usual opening services the
Teacher sat in silence, but afterward a parch-
ment copy of the Scriptures was handed him,
and he read from it several passages. Then he
rolled up the parchment, handed it back to its
keeper and began to speak.
Cyril was leaning forward to listen, when he
became aware of a man moving close beside
him, and a fierce face was pushed forward near
his shoulder. Cyril shrank away, almost in
fear, for now came a loud voice, as if some
power within the man spoke through his lips:
Let us alone; what have we to do with thee,
thou Jesus of Nazareth ? art thou come to de-
stroy us ? I know thee, who thou art, the Holy
One of God."
Ben Nassur had risen upon his feet, and so
had other men, in the intensity of their surprise
and curiosity.
But there was no change in the manner of
the Master, except that he at once spoke, as
if reprovingly:
Hold thy peace, and come out of him."
Down fell the man, as if some wrestler had
thrown him, but when, a moment later, he arose
again, he was found to be altogether himself,
quiet and sane.
Is the demon gone? exclaimed Cyril.
" Where did he go ? What is he ? "
He is gone," said a man, who had pushed
closer to him. But what a word is this! for

'-PtTT^ CI1TrI-'`l7-l r-^I


with authority and power he commandeth the
unclean spirits, and they come out."
Those who stood near Isaac Ben Nassur said
afterward that he seemed to be completely
overawed by this evidence of power.
As for Cyril, his first impulse was to go and
tell Lois. It was all the easier to go, because
he could not now get anywhere near the Mas-

He reached the door, but did not pause
there. He walked through the main room, and
was led into the smaller one, where the sick
woman lay.
Little enough could any Jewish physician
do for the sufferers from the malignant fevers
bred by the marshes around the Sea of Galilee.
What would the Teacher do in such a case?


ter, and because the crowd was slowly making
its way out of the synagogue. He reached the
house of Simon, and Lois listened in silence to
his wonderful story ; but she seemed to be think-
ing of something else.
I am glad the man was cured," she said.
"Why cannot the Master do something for the
people of this house ? "
Cyril did not make any reply, for up the
street toward Simon's house, at that moment,
was coming the crowd that accompanied the
"I believe he is coming to see her," whis-
pered Lois. "I hope he is."

What comfort would he give to the poor woman
who lay there tossing and moaning ?
The Teacher was now standing by the sick
woman, but neither Cyril nor Lois caught the
few words that he uttered as he took the suf-
ferer by the hand, and raised her gently. He
did not seem to be speaking to her, but Lois
exclaimed, joyfully:
Cyril, Cyril! The fever has left her. She
is cured. She is well!"
And indeed the matron so suddenly restored
to health was quickly out among her kinsfolk.
Her very gladness for her recovery at once ex-
pressed itself, moreover, in her zeal for the hos-


pitable entertainment of him who had cured
her, and of her thronging guests.
Not far from the outer doorway stood Isaac
Ben Nassur. His face expressed both wonder
and disapproval. He, at least, remembered
what so many others had forgotten that this
was the Sabbath day, a day upon which not
even such ministration to the sick was per-
mitted by the rabbis.


THE law of the seventh day of the week, as in-
terpreted by the rabbis, enjoined a quiet Sabbath
afternoon. During the hours when perfect rest
was observed, however, the news of the Teacher's
power to heal spread rapidly from house to house;
and people everywhere made ready to claim his
aid as soon as the Law would let them.
Ben Nassur had been consulted by several
persons, and, among other wise remarks, he
had said:
"I did not see the water changed into wine.
Neither did I see this woman cured. She was
cured, she got up, and came out. I know no
more than that. I do not say yet what it is best
for the people to think or believe concerning
this Teacher."
When the sun went down everybody in Ca-
pernaum was listening for the trumpet, in front
of the synagogue, to tell them that the Sabbath
hours were over.
At length came the signal to the clustered
homes of the city, and to the scattered dwell-
ings of the fisher-folk along the shore. It was
heard by rich and poor alike, by sick and well,
and from every direction they went in a swell-
ing tide toward the open space in front of the
house of Simon.
It was still daylight when Cyril and Lois
stood and watched the Master and the people.
He laid his hands on every one of them,
and healed them," said Lois, as she and Cyril
walked away, for the darkness came on, and the
crowd was dispersing. Cyril, I heard some
voices crying, 'Thou art the Anointed!' and
as if answering them I heard the voice of the
Teacher reproving and forbidding them."
It is not time yet," said Cyril. "If the Ro-

mans suspected that he was the King, and was to
be anointed over all Israel, they would slay him."
"Would they really slay him ? exclaimed
Lois. For healing the sick ? "
Not for that," replied Cyril; "but for being
the King, to raise a rebellion. I mean to watch
all night. If he goes away, I must go with
him. How I wish father were here! He
would know what to do!"

Neither his son nor his daughter knew
where Ezra the Swordmaker was; but it was
many and many a long mile from Capernaum.
With a number of companions he was in hiding
within a great cave.
It was exceedingly dark, excepting in one
spot. That also was gloomy and strange
enough. A cresset, or basket made of thin
strips of iron, for holding embers to give light,
swung at the end of a chain that hung from a
dim frame-work high above the ground. The
cresset was about two yards above a mass of
iron, smooth on top, which could be recognized
as a rude but serviceable anvil. This was in-
dicated also by a brickwork forge, a bellows,
hammers, charcoal, and ashes, with other evi-
dences of the blacksmith's trade.
The place was neither untenanted nor silent.
Not far from the anvil sat or lay the party of
bearded men, to whom a voice, deep and sol-
emn, was rehearsing the story of the doings at
Jerusalem during the Passover week, the clean-
sing of the Temple, and the teachings of the
bold prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.
It was an exciting and wonderful story, for it
contained, though with some exaggerations, all
the tales brought to Jerusalem by the enthusi-
astic men of Galilee. The name of Rabbi Ben
Nassur and the wonder of the wine at the mar-
riage feast were by no means omitted. Dark
faces, bronzed and scarred, upon which the red
light fell from the fragments of resinous wood
that were blazing in the cresset, grew more
striking in the earnestness with which they
Some turned to look at one another, or at
the almost unseen narrator, back among the
shadows; but one brawny form by the anvil
never stirred. This man's head was bowed
forward and the face could not be seen; but


one bare arm rested on the mass of iron, so
that the hand-a right hand-lay upon the
pointed projection at one end. It was a hand,
truly, but twisted and gnarled out of all shape,
and its very fingers were shrunken to little
more than the bones.
"Men and brethren," said the speaker, in
conclusion, "they call us robbers of the wilder-

by the Jordan, when he bore witness of this
man of Galilee. Let us know from his own
lips what he will say of him now."
Then spake the strong man by the anvil:
"Go ye to John. I will go to Galilee to
inquire for myself. The boy who was with
Rabbi Ben Nassur is my own son. Perhaps
he can tell me somewhat. I am of no use

ness; disciples of John the Baptizer; followers here. I can ply the hammer no more. Ye
of the old faith. We who wait for the hope must find you another swordmaker. For if
of Israel know that John, indeed, is in prison, this is indeed the King, the day of those who
He is bound in the deep dungeon of the fort can draw the sword is not distant!"
of Machmrus. But this new prophet of Galilee, Slowly he arose to his feet, and in a moment
what shall we say of him ? more Ezra the armorer had disappeared in the
There was silence for a moment, and then gloom beyond the red light from the cresset.
another voice answered:
Let us go and ask John. They still permit There was no gloom in Capernaum that
us to speak with him. Herod has shut John night. There were only such shadows as the
up, but dares not harm him. I was with him, moon might permit, while it shone so brightly


among the trees and houses. The lake was
one glitter of dancing waves, and in many a
household, until slumber quieted all, there were
glad hearts and joyous words, because of the
sicknesses of all sorts which had departed at
the touch of the Master.
Cyril did not sleep. Neither was he at the
house of Simon. Lois was there still, although
Simon's wife's mother no longer needed the at-
tention of her young nurse. Ben Nassur was
at the house of a friend, a rabbi.
Cyril did not sleep, nor did he long remain
in one place, for he was, in his own mind, act-
ing as volunteer sentry, or rather guardian,
around the house which contained the leader
who would yet, he was almost ready to believe,
become his captain and his king. All night
long he stealthily patrolled, hither and thither,
or lay concealed among trees and shrubbery,
and at last, in the dark hour that comes be-
fore the dawn, he was rewarded. The moon
had long since gone down and it was starlight
only, but he saw the house-door open. He
saw the Teacher walk out, silently, and pass
away through the empty streets out of the city.
And Cyril followed until a lonely, deserted
spot was reached.

He is safe there," thought Cyril. "I
ought to go and tell Simon and the other
It was a simple task to find them, and
then with them went out a rapidly increas-
ing throng to gather around the Master and
beg him not to go away. There were still,
they said, many sick people in and around
"I must preach the kingdom of God to
other cities also," was the answer; "for there-
fore am I sent."
So those who had heard him dispersed to
their own places. Isaac Ben Nassur returned
to Cana. Lois went back to her needlework
at the house of Abigail. Cyril, much against
his will, was compelled to go to the fishing-
boats and his daily, or, more often, nightly toil
upon the Lake of Galilee. He could not pos-
sibly accompany the Teacher upon a long tour
of preaching and healing, from city to city, and
so Lois plainly told him:
He has not bidden thee to come with him.
Thou art better in Simon's boat, or John's,
while they are with the Master. I too would
wish to go, but I must stay here in Capernaum
at work with Abigail."

(To be continued.)



SOFT soft soft
From their cloudland home
They steal when the gray old world 's at
Whiter they than the ocean foam,
Light as the down on the eider's breast;
Soft they fall through the winter night,
Dancing down by the moon's pale light.

They fall fall fall
Through the winter night,
Till the gray old world is hid from sight.
They fall fall fall
By the moon's pale light,
Till the earth is robed in a robe of white.
They fall-fall -fall
Over all.

Then Winter his bitterest blasts may bring,
But the world is warm where the snow lies deep,
And the snowflakes faithful ward will keep;
And snug neathh their snowy covering
The flowers will wait for the voice of Spring.

S Pa- ade.- .

-i'"- ------------- --

'' 1'

~ I T was a strange
power thathe
'' '- ""' had. It was
'.. not Neilson's music,
Although that was the best
'- I ever heard from a harmonica.
And it was not his military gait. It was surely
his real love for the beasts--they were his
Every Sunday morning, when the weather
was fair, you might see these kin of Neilson on
They were the belongings of a big farm,
which ran for perhaps a mile along the yellow
waters of the Kaw. Overhead you would see
white and sunny skies. In the dense woods
you would hear cardinal-birds whistle in Feb-
ruary, and doves coo in May. The soil was a
rich bottom-land, and grew clover and blue-
grass and timothy, upon which Neilson's
friends fed.
Of a Sunday morning, as I was saying, up
and down a meadow he would lead them--
round the old oak, twenty feet in girth, stand-
ing at one end, then all across field, and down
to the brook. They made the figure eight; they
made zeros; they circled round the red wind-
mill that was ever whirling to pump sweet water
for their troughs. And they made squares and
scallops, Neilson all the time leading and blow-
ing for dear life upon his harmonica.
For tunes he played such gay things as An-
nie Rooney," After the Ball," and other airs
that his ear had readily caught; also melodies
of his native Sweden.


- -TE'HEi ,,

First in the line came "Miggies." She
was a high-bred filly with ways as coaxing
as a woman's. Whenever any one came by,
whether man, or boy, or girl, she walked, resting
her nose-tip on her friend's shoulder. It was
easier, probably, for conversation. In that way,
at least, she used to tell tales of the field's
Then after Miggles came Dick and Nick,"
and nervous "Betsy Bobbet," and "Fanny Fire-
fly," who was as fine a buckskin mare as ever
laid back ear at the thought of any sort of
wagon ahead of her; then the other horses,
ten or twelve of them in a line. But Miggles
was always at the head; and in pace with Mig-
gles, Neilson, blowing like the west wind, and
swinging his legs like a new recruit in the
Next came the mules. Poor, patient beasts!
they never thought of mingling with the horses.
Social lines were as clearly and as foolishly
drawn in this meadow as in the big world of
men. You never saw a simple-minded mule
hobnobbing with a high-born horse. The two
endured each other's presence, and fed in dif-
ferent patches.
After the mules the cows dragged their slow
feet; Jersey and Durham colors marked their
skins, but two or three long-horned Texans
filled out the herd. Between these thorough-
breds and the natives of the plains there were,
however,-and I am glad to say it,--no airs
and no exceptions. Together they gossiped
and waded the brook in the silent noontide
heat. And now they marched in mixed file close

upon the mules--so far along the line, however, line, heads down and tails often wagging like
that it seemed impossible for Neilson's music to mad.
reach their ears. Such was the strange power of Neilson's that
But perhaps the oddest of all were the sheep. I first spoke of. That he could lead so many
Whether they have a sense of sweet sound I do of his friends, of so different kinds, in so long
not know; but they, too, fell in with the spirit and devious a march, merely by playing gay
of the march. Perhaps, in a silly, mutton-headed tunes on a harmonica and beating time by the
way, they wanted to do as other folks did. At swaying of his body -this was surely owing
any rate, they ambled along in Neilson's great to his love for them and to their love for him.

N-- .. -------'------- ----- -. .-- .-- ----- 7- -- "': '. -
: I r6
QI ________f~44:



K' ;

THOUGH extremely fond of coasting, this most peculiar lad,
While flying swiftly down the hill, would wear a look of pain; -
For already he was thinking and it really made him sad -
That very soon he 'd have to climb the whole way up again.
VOL. XXIII.--53.




..; i



[Begun in tl January number.]



THE junior partner made no reply; it was
impossible for him to regard the situation from
Sindbad's standpoint. If he had read of it in
the "Arabian Nights" he would have enjoyed
it immensely, and would probably have envied
Sindbad's fellow-prisoner. But now that he
himself was that fellow-prisoner, seated in a
damp boat on a very damp river, on a chilly
September night well, it was quite a different
I am afraid you are offended, partner," said
Sindbad, presently. Honest, I did n't mean
what I said on the train. You see, I was a little
"Yes, but you were ugly before you were
upset," returned Tom.
"You don't understand me. My digestion
was all wrong -it is now, for that matter.
Mrs. Pettibone's table did n't suit me at all;
nothing but doughnuts and pie, and pie and
Mrs. Pettibone makes awful good pies,"
said Tom, much hurt at this contemptuous ref-
erence to the cuisine of the Oakdale Hotel,
which he had always considered beyond criti-
Maybe she does," replied Sindbad, "but if
she had perpetrated one of those atrocities in
Bagdad well, it would have been a sure case
of the sack. But never mind about Mrs. Pet-
tibone and her pies : how does the present situ-
ation strike you ?"
I can't say I exactly like it," replied Tom
after a moment's hesitation. "We don't know
where we 're going, and --"
"And I don't care," interrupted Sindbad.
One thing I'm sure of: we 'll have high old

times. Oh, I can tell in a minute when there's
adventure ahead!"
Hush! said Tom; "you know that fellow
told us not to talk."
"Yes, and I tell you so again," interrupted
one of their captors. I can hear every word
you say, and it will all be used against you.
That fellow!' why, that term, applied to the
Grand Vizier of New Bagdad-well, I don't
know exactly what the penalty will be, but I
should say about forty years' imprisonment.
Now, don't deny that you said it, because you
did. You heard him say it, did n't you, Selim ? "
"Yes, your Ineffable Highness," piped a
shrill voice, "I did. Those were his very
words, and I don't know when I have been so
shocked. Why, I have n't been so broken-up
by anything since -"
"Oh, do be quiet," interrupted the Grand
Vizier, impatiently. I ought to have known
better than to ask you a question."
"Do you mean to say, gentlemen," inter-
rupted Sindbad, his voice trembling with excite-
ment, that the name of the city to which you
are taking us is New Bagdad ? "
I did n't mean to say anything about it,"
replied the Grand Vizier, but since I have in-
advertently done so I reply -yes."
"Well," said Sindbad, "I 'm delighted to
hear it. Why, this begins to seem like old
times. So you are the Grand Vizier! Well,
well! And I suppose your ruler is called
He is. But don't ask so many questions;
you are almost as annoying as Selim."
Sindbad discreetly relapsed into silence.
What river is this?" whispered Tom in
his partner's ear.
"I don't know," replied the great explorer.
"It's only a little canal, I think. You see we
fell into the Connecticut river, but we did n't
stay there long; these two gentlemen, the


Grand Vizier of New 'Bagdad and his pains-
taking and affable assistant, Selim, steered the
boat into this stream, and-"
Will you be quiet? broke in the Grand
Vizier. "I 'm listening to every word, and I
shall report all you say to the Sultan."
"Well," said Tom, heedless of Sindbad's ad-
monitory nudges, "we 're not saying anything
that we don't wish repeated. I should like to
know what river this is, and where New Bag-
dad is; I never heard of it."
"Oh, yes, he has heard of it, too, Your
Highness," interrupted Sindbad, giving his
partner's arm a hard pinch; "but he is pain-
fully modest, and does n't like to tell all he
knows. Why, everyone is familiar with the
geography of New Bagdad."
No, everyone is n't, either," snapped the
Grand Vizier.
"Of course," said Sindbad apologetically,
" I mean everyone that is anyone."
"I think we 've almost reached the New
Bosphorus, Your Highness," interrupted Selim
at this point. "Shall I turn on the expander?"
"Wait a few minutes," replied the Grand
Vizier; "I think the moon will soon be out."
They had been rowing through a stream so
narrow that they were brushed many times by
the shrubbery on either bank, but this had
ceased now; evidently they were in deeper
Scarcely had the Grand Vizier spoken when
the full moon emerged from behind a murky
cloud. Its rays shimmered along the dancing
waves and entered a narrow inlet, but a few
rods in the wake of the boat.
Hurrah! cried Selim shrilly, we 're on
the New Bosphorus! Talk about your Hud-
son and your Mississippi -why, they 're not
to be compared with the great, the glorious
New Bosphorus."
"Will you please try to be quiet, Selim ?"
said the Grand Vizier in a tone indicative of
much annoyance. The next time I go on an
expedition of this sort, you won't accompany
me I can tell you that."
"Your Illustrious Highness is pleased to be
real cross to-night," grumbled Selim. "Well,
shall your unworthy yet thoroughly up-to-date
slave turn on the expander now ? "

Go ahead."
Tom was surprised to find that, notwithstand-
ing his big voice, the Grand Vizier was a little
insignificant-looking man not more than four
feet in height, while Selim was a large, stout
individual at least a foot taller than Sindbad.
The head of the former was long and narrow,
and his countenance had a most forbidding
expression; but Selim's face was round and
chubby, and wore a good-natured though per-
haps rather insipid smile.
Their costumes were purely Arabian, and of
rich material.
When the Grand Vizier said, "Go ahead,"
Selim placed his hand upon a little brass wheel,
about eight inches in diameter, at the stern of
the boat, and gave it several rapid revolutions.
The result startled Tom so much that he ut-
tered a loud cry, half of astonishment, half of
fear; even the blas6 Sindbad seemed interested,
and, perhaps, a trifle nervous. For the little
bark began to spread out in all directions; in a
few seconds it was as large as a yacht, then it
had assumed the proportions of a schooner, and
in less than two minutes it was a full-rigged
ship with all sails unfurled. Sailors in Oriental
attire were rushing about in all directions in
obedience to hoarse orders issued by the Grand
Vizier through a trumpet almost as large as
Sindbad and Tom, who had been tumbled
about most unceremoniously in the course of the
transformation, found themselves, when all was
over, seated upon the deck near the fore hatch-
The great explorer tried to assume the air of
one to whom this sort of thing was a frequent
occurrence; but the attempt was not altogether
Don't be alarmed, my boy," he said, with a
ghastly smile. If you 'd seen as many queer
things as I have, you 'd laugh at this. It 's
only a bit of magic, and very nicely done, too;
I should really like to see it again."
No, 't is n't magic," said a voice behind
them; "it's science."
Turning, they confronted Selim, who was
wiping the perspiration from his face with a
large red silk handkerchief.
"It 's nothing but science," he went on;



"though I confess it does look like magic.
It 's an invention of our Sultan's; he calls it a
condensed ship. It 's adjustable, and we can
make this vessel anything from a small scull to
a man-of-war. Oh, we New Bagdadites are a
very ingenious people "
Just then the harsh voice of the Grand Vizier
"Where are you, Selim ?"
"Right here, Your Highness," was the re-
ply. "I '11 be with you in a moment"; and
he frisked away, waving his hand gaily at
Well," said the boy, drawing a long breath,
"did you ever experience anything as queer as
this, Mr. Sindbad ? "
"I 'd have died of ennui long ago if I
had n't," replied the explorer. "Why, this is
nothing at all; but I 'm in hopes we have a
little excitement ahead of us."
Well, I guess you have," said the junior
partner, somewhat offended by his companion's
contemptuous reference to the wonders they
had just witnessed. You heard what Selim
said; I believe they intend to to "
Oh, don't be afraid to say it," interrupted
Sindbad lightly. They intend to kill me, but
you never heard of my being killed, did you ?
No; nor will you just at present. I wonder
if this town we are approaching is New Bag-
Tom turned and glanced in the direction in
which his partner was looking, then he uttered
an exclamation of wonder and delight. Stretch-
ing almost from the water's edge to a height
of at least a thousand feet, were countless
gilded domes and minarets; the city they were
approaching was built upon a high and very
steep hill; it was lighted only by the rays of
the moon.
"Well, that is the handsomest place I ever
saw! cried Tom in genuine admiration.
"It's very evident that you have n't trav-
eled much," said Sindbad sarcastically. You
ought to have seen old Bagdad in its best
At this moment Selim came running toward
them in great excitement.
"We 're almost there," he panted. "What
do you think of our city, Sindbad ? "

It 's fair to middling," replied the explorer
"' Fair to middling,' eh ? said Selim. "So
that 's all you can say! You 'd better express
that opinion to the Sultan, and see what hap-
I meant to say began Sindbad hastily,
but Selim interrupted him with:
"Never mind what you meant to say; I
heard what you did say. Now, then, come
over near the gangway and make ready to dis-
The two explorers silently obeyed. Five
minutes later, escorted by the Grand Vizier
and Selim, they crossed the gang-plank and
set foot on the soil of New Bagdad.



THE straight, narrow street along which our
travelers were hurried was lined with tall, de-
tached buildings, of what might be termed the
gingerbread style of architecture. No two
houses were alike, and all were decorated in
the gaudiest and most fantastic manner. There
were but few pedestrians abroad, and they hur-
ried past the two strangers with apprehensive
"You have a pretty city, Your Highness,"
said Sindbad. "I have n't seen as pretty a
place in many a long day."
Pretty is n't the word at all," growled the
Grand Vizier. "I should have said magnifi-
"Or sublime, Your Highness," interrupted
Selim, "or gorgeous. Why, there are lots and
lots of better words than pretty."
"And they all apply to your unapproachable
city," said Sindbad, smiling at Tom.
That 's better a good deal better. Now
is n't it, Your Highness?" said Selim. I
can't at this moment think of a word that I like
better than unapproachable."
"The place is as unapproachable as we can
make it," said the Grand Vizier; mighty few
foreigners ever get here."
But see here," interrupted Tom, "how is it
that it is n't on the map of the United States?"




There are a great many things that are not
on the map of the United States," answered the
Grand Vizier. But we New Bagdadites ac-
knowledge being directly responsible for the
egregious errors made by your surveyors. The
fact is, we have a way of concealing the exist-
ence of our city from its nearest neighbors."
"And such an ingenious way!" interposed

"Oh!" said Selim, in a shocked tone.
"Well, I won't tell them then, for it would
never do for me to lose my head to-night, when
I have so much business on hand. Why, here
we are at the palace now! Does n't the time
pass quickly when you 're in pleasant com-
Stand back, and keep quiet," ordered the



Selim, with childlike glee. "It won't do any
harm for me to tell them about it, will it, Your
Highness ?"
Oh, no, not much harm nothing to speak
of!" replied the Grand Vizier, grimly, and
looking significantly at Selim. "You and they
will be executed directly we reach the Sultan's
palace- that 's all."

Grand Vizier, roughly pushing his subordinate
aside, and striding on ahead.
I don't know when he 's been so cross,"
whispered Selim to Sindbad. "But he 's all
right at heart, as you '11 find, if he does n't in-
duce the Sultan to kill you at sight. Ah,
there 's the Sultan now! Is n't he looking
well to-night? "



They had entered a courtyard paved with
marble, and lighted only by the rays of the
moon. In its center was a dais, tipon which
was seated an individual not unlike the Grand
Vizier in appearance a very small man, with
his head crowned by a very large and brilliantly
jeweled turban.
Here we are, Your Serenity," announced
the Grand Vizier.
"Who are we' ?" queried the Sultan, rub-
bing his eyes; he seemed to have been asleep.
"Your unworthy slave whom you were
pleased in a moment of weakness to elevate
to the office of Grand Vizier: the illiterate and
utterly despicable creature, Selim: and their
two prisoners, the vile wretch Sindbad, and
his unprincipled companion, whose name has
not yet been ascertained."
So this is you, is it, Sindbad? said the Sul-
tan, gazing with evident interest at the explorer.
It is, Your Serenity," replied Sindbad.
" How are you feeling this evening ? "
"Sleepy; and I, therefore, want to dispose
of your case as quickly as possible."
"Shall I send Selim for an ax? asked the
Grand Vizier eagerly.
Not yet, my faithful servitor," said the mon-
arch; then, turning again to Sindbad, he asked:
"Who is the boy ? "
"He 's my partner, Your Serenity. Allow
me: the Sultan of New Bagdad Mr. Thomas
Smith. I 'm happy to have the privilege of
making two good fellows acquainted."
Tom bowed clumsily, startled at Sindbad's
audacity. But the Sultan did not seem in the
least offended.
"I 'm glad to know you both," he said,
" and regret that our acquaintance must neces-
sarily be cut short."
I 'd better send for the ax now, had n't I ?"
interposed the Grand Vizier.
No, no! replied the Sultan impatiently.
"There will be no execution to-night, so set
your mind at rest on that point. Why, I 'm
bound to give these two prisoners an oppor-
tunity to think up a few last wishes."
It is as I feared," sighed the Grand Vizier,
"Your Serenity's better nature is coming back."
No, it is n't either," said the Sultan, pet-
tishly. I should think you could see that. I

never felt more merciless in the whole course
of my life than I do at this moment; but I
want to have a little talk with Sindbad and his
partner. You and Selim may retire."
The Grand Vizier shuffled away with a dis-
satisfied air, followed by Selim; who waved his
hand at Tom, saying meaningly:
Good-by; I may n't see you again."
When they were beyond earshot, Sindbad
said, addressing the Sultan:
I 'm very glad of this opportunity for a pri-
vate interview, Your Serenity. I should partic-
ularly like to know why my partner and I have
been kidnapped and brought here; I 'm sure
it must have been in direct opposition to your
"No, it was n't," said the Sultan; it was in
accordance with my express commands. But
that is one thing I wanted to speak with you
about; I am willing to confess that I might
not have had you captured had I not seen that
it was a necessary political measure."
"I don't understand, Your Serenity," said
I will explain," the Sultan answered. "You
are a professional explorer ?"
"I am."
"Just so. And you 've explored nearly
every country on the globe except this one,
have you not ? "
"I have, Your Serenity."
"Well, you have been brought here because
the New Bagdadites have a decided objection
to being discovered and explored. I can't say
that I should mind it so much, for I am nothing
if not liberal, but I must recognize and respect
the popular feeling. Why, our entire popula-
tion is divided into Sindbadites and anti-Sind-
badites, the latter being largely in the majority.
Now you see how I 'm placed, don't you ? "
"Dear, dear! was Sindbad's only response.
"Learning that you were near New Bagdad,"
continued the Sultan, and that it would very
likely be your next stopping-place, I sent out
my Grand Vizier, who is also the commander
of my fleet, to capture you."
"And he did it very neatly; I '11 give him
credit for that," said Sindbad. "But why do
you object so strongly to having New Bagdad
explored ? "



"For many reasons; because we don't care to
be burdened with foreign paupers, because-
but what 's the use of going into all that?
My people don't want to be discovered, and
they won't be, and that settles it. We 've suc-
ceeded in keeping our existence secret for a
long time, but we 've always had a haunting
fear that you might some day betray it. You
having explored all, or nearly all, other lands,
we knew our turn must come soon. When we
heard that you were in Oakdale we decided
that the time for action had come. We took
action-and here you are. That 's the whole
story; I trust I make myself understood ? "
Oh, yes," said Sindbad; your explanation
of the situation is as clear as-as could have
been expected of you."
"Thank you very much. And now let me
ask you a question: Are you up in science ?"
"Well, to a certain extent," replied Sindbad,
guardedly. "Why do you ask ?"
"Because a scientific problem confronts us,
and has been confronting us as long as we can
remember. We can't strike a light, and there-
fore we have no means of artificial illumination."
"And your city depends entirely upon the
light of the sun and the moon?" cried Sindbad.
"But how do you cook your food ?"
"We don't cook it," replied the Sultan; "we
don't know how to cook it. Now, can you
help us out?"
"I can," replied the explorer promptly;
"upon certain terms."
"What terms ? cried the Sultan eagerly.
"That my life and that of my partner be
The monarch shrugged his shoulders dubi-
I can't promise that," he said, "but I will
agree to use my influence in your behalf."
"That will be satisfactory, Your Serenity,"
replied Sindbad. "With your influence and
my tact-"
"All right, then," interrupted the Sultan im-
patiently; "you may consider that as settled.
And now let 's see you make a fire."

"You 'll have to wait until to-morrow, Your
Serenity; my matches are all wet."
"Your matches? What are your matches?"
asked the Sultan peevishly.
Sindbad explainedthe monarch listening at-
"Well," he said when the explorer had fin-
ished, "matches are a great invention, and no
mistake; I wish I 'd known of them before.
But do you suppose your matches will be good
for anything when they are dried, Sindbad ? "
"I have grave doubts on that point, Your
Serenity," was the reply; "but if they are not
I shall still have my sun-glass."
"What's a sun-glass ? inquired the Sultan.
"It is a convex glass lens mounted in a frame
and furnished with a handle; with it the rays
of the sun may be converged into a focus and
heat produced."
"Dear me! I don't know what you are
talking about," said the Sultan. "Let 's see
this wonderful machine."
Sindbad took a sun-glass about four inches
in diameter from his pocket, and handed it to
the Sultan.
The monarch examined it curiously, turning
it over and over; then he said:
I don't think much of it, but it may be all
right; let's see it work."
"Your Serenity," replied Sindbad, "it is ne-
cessary to wait until after sunrise."
Oh, nonsense!" snapped the Sultan. If
it '11 work with the sun it '11 work with the
moon; go ahead."
Your Serenity's knowledge causes his slave's
eyes to stand forth from their sockets with
wonder," said the diplomatic explorer; "but,
nevertheless, this is not that kind of glass."
"Well, then, we '11 let the experiment go
until morning," returned the Sultan. I'm aw-
fully sleepy anyhow, and I 'n tired of talking.
What ho! Selim! "
That individual entered, concealing a yawn
behind his broad palm.
Take these two fellows to the nearest dun-
geon-cell and then get to bed," ordered the

(To be continued.)

(Concluding fafer of the Series on North A merican Quadrupeds.)


WE began with the highest of our quad-
rupeds, and we have now reached the lowest.
We have described many animals so keen-eyed
and nimble-footed that it takes a good gun and
the skill of a good hunter to bring one down.
A very few have been able to fight the hunter,
and make him afraid. Now, however, we have
to finish this branch of our natural history
studies among animals so poorly equipped with
weapons of offense that in one case Nature has
kindly provided a bony coat of mail to protect
her handiwork from assault, and to another she
has given an instinct which prompts it to feign
death in times of mortal peril.
The theories of evolution by natural selec-
tion" and "the influence of environment" are
very interesting and well worth study, but, like
all things of human invention, they have their
limitations. Before deciding that these theories
are to be accepted as truths, I would like to
have the student look at a little NINE-BANDED
ARMADILLO (Ta-tu'si-a no'vem-cinc'ta), and tell
us whether he got his wonderful suit of plate-
armor by chance, by evolution, or by careful
design. To my mind, and I say it in all rev-
erence, this wonderful little creature deserves
to be classed with the visible evidences of
Just look at it for a moment. Its home is
on the grassy and treeless savannas of Central
and South America, where it is subject to the
attacks of the larger birds of prey, and flesh-
eating animals generally. It is too small and
too puny in strength to run far, and has neither
teeth, horns, claws, spines, nor scent-glands with
which to fight. Shall it be left utterly defense-
less to become the prey of any prowler the
moment it emerges from its burrow to seek
its daily ration of ants and other food? By
no means. And who was it that cunningly

devised the Armadillo's suit of bony plate-
armor, with nine ring-like joints in the middle,
so that it would bend easily? Why, even its
long, opossum-like tail is ringed all around
with bone, and protected quite to its tip. The
lower parts of the animal are not covered by
the shield,-and why? It is so that in times
of danger little Tatusia can fold up his legs
neatly, tuck them and his head also close
against the yielding flesh of his body, and in
an instant make everything snug by rolling
himself into a ball, leaving nothing but his
hard shell exposed. The creature becomes a
living nut that is not to be cracked by every
enemy that comes along.
In its movements the Armadillo is quick and
rather spasmodic, but while it scurries rapidly
over the ground for a short distance, its course
is soon run. It burrows in holes of its own
digging, in dry plains; but its burrows are so
shallow, it is an easy matter to dig the creature
out whenever one is found at home. I once
went a-hunting for Cachicamos," as they are
called in Venezuela, on a wide savanna at the
head of the Orinoco delta; and, although the
day was cloudy and damp, we had good dogs
and walked at least ten miles, finding only one
Armadillo. It was in a burrow about three
feet deep, in the middle of a vast, level prairie.
We dug it out with our machetes, or long
knives, made a "specimen" of it, and, being
ourselves in a state of perpetual hunger, ate its
flesh with great relish, for it was very good.
The Nine-banded Armadillo is found in south-
ern and southwestern Texas, and thence south-
ward through Mexico and Central America to
far distant Paraguay. It is entirely harmless
and inoffensive, often kept in captivity, and its
flesh is everywhere esteemed palatable food. In
size it is a little smaller than our opossum.


In the hot lowland forests of South America
there lives a group of animals specially designed
by nature to feed upon the ants which are so
abominably abundant in the tropics. These
animals are called Ant-Eaters, and two of the
number the most interesting ones have ex-
tended their range northward of the Isthmus
of Panama, into North America.

end of that curious muzzle, its tongue is like a
big angle-worm a foot long, and it has no teeth
whatever! Its covering is a rough coat of long,
coarse, brown hair, most strangely marked by
a black band underneath the throat, which on
the chest divides into a long, wedge-shaped
stripe of black that extends backward and up-
ward across the shoulder.


' *. '" :


With the exception of the jaguar, the GREAT
BEAR, whichever you
ANT-BEAR. choose to call him, is
(Myr-me-coph'-a-ga ju-ba'-ta.) the most showy quad-
ruped in all South America; nor am I at all
sure he is not entitled to first place. In height
and bulk a full-grown specimen is about as
large as a Newfoundland dog, and is really
quite bear-shaped in body and legs. Its tail
is long and strong, and bears a tremendous
brush of coarse, wiry, brown-black hair, which
makes this organ very noticeable. Its head is
so small, and its muzzle so fearfully prolonged,
that it reminds one of the head and beak of
an ibis. Its mouth is a narrow slit across the
VOL. XXIII.- 54.

To me it has always been a puzzle why this
creature should possess such a luxuriant coat of
hair in so hot a climate. Another point still
more open to criticism is his clubbed fore feet.
He walks on his claws, and the outer edges of
his fore feet, in a most awkward, and even pain-
ful, way, for which there seems to be no ade-
quate excuse unless his feet were formed that
way to vex the souls of wicked taxidermists.
Put them as you will, they will not look right;
but to the living animal their big, strong,
hooked claws are very useful in tearing the bark
off decayed logs, or ripping open ant-hills for
the insertion of that sticky, worm-like tongue.
I have often been told by South American
hunters that the Ant-Bear uses his long, bushy




tail to sweep up ants with, so that they can be species ranges as far north as Southern Mexico,
devoured more expeditiously; but I fancy that and in some localities, where its favorite food is
is only a yarn." quite abundant, it is frequently seen.
Even where it is most plentiful, the Great There is one group of animals that seems to

., . "
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Ant-Eater is a rare animal. Although I have
hunted it many days, I never saw but two spe-
cimens alive, one of which was a young one in
captivity at Ciudad Bolivar, on the Orinoco,
and the other was a magnificent large specimen
in Forepaugh's menagerie. Owing to their
lack of teeth, and the peculiarities of their diet,
they are difficult to keep alive in captivity.
North of Panama this species is found only
in Guatemala and Costa Rica, and is very rare
in both those countries. It lives upon the
ground, and its worst enemies are the jaguar
and puma.
The TAMANDUA ANT-EATER is about one
fourth the size of
TAMANDUA ANT-EATER. the preceding spe-
(Mfyr-me-coi-'l a-ga et-ra-dac'ty-la.) cies. Its long,
opossum-like tail has no brush; its head is
very much shorter in proportion; it lives in
trees, and is very much commoner than the
other. I once was the proud owner of a fine,
large specimen, which would climb all over me,
and cling to my arms with its feet and tail,
quite as lovingly as if I were a tree. This

have been created after nature had grown so
weary of supplying good eyes, good legs, teeth,
and claws, that she left the poor creatures with-
out either shield, weapons, or the power to run
away !
I never see a live Sloth without feeling sorry
for it; for truly they all deserve sympathy, and
plenty of it. Had I been born a Sloth, I would
want to sue Nature, or in
HOFFMANNS SLOTHsome way collect damages.
(Cho-lo'fus Ioffmann-i.) Take HOFFMANN'S SLOTH,
for example. It is one of the largest of them
all, but it is too weak and helpless to be put

------ ------ -


into such a wicked and dangerous world as this
has now become. Its countenance is a picture
of innocent stupidity, and as it looks at you, its
dull eyes and expressionless face say to you, as
plainly as words, Pity me I cannot fight -I



cannot run away. I have no defensive armor,
no spines, nor anything worth mentioning. I am
too big to live in a burrow, and, even if I were
not, I have none, nor the tools with which to

S A.-" ..' -.. -
-I i


make one. I am at the mercy of everything and
everybody. Why is this thus? Why am I here ?"
I give it up. This creature is a riddle that I
cannot read. Being only a short-sighted mor-
tal, it seems to me that the Sloths should have


been better equipped for the battle of life, or
else left out of it altogether.
The Sloth lives, moves, and has his being by
hanging underneath the smaller limbs of trees,
and eating leaves and fruit. He is the slowest
animal on record, and for speed in traveling a
long journey, say from one side of a tree-top to
the other, the tortoise is a lightning express in
comparison. It takes a good field-glass to ena-
ble you to see him move. His hair is coarse,
wavy, and precisely the color of gray moss, or
rough bark, although sometimes it supports a mi-
nute vegetable organism which gives it an olive-
green hue. His feet are simply four hooks, by
which he hangs himself very comfortably when
feeding in the upper story of a forest, but in
walking on the ground they are worse than use-
less. But the Sloth has no use for the ground,
and never goes near it of his own accord.
The tamest hunting in the world is sloth-
hunting, in comparison with which the pursuit of


'I '





( I I


orchids is quite exciting, and turtle-catching is
wild and dangerous sport. But I have done my
turn at it, never-
(Brady-pus in-fis-ca'tus.) the mighty Esse-
quibo River, in British Guiana, I took a native
companion, a gun, an ax, and a leaky canoe,
and set forth to round up a lot of CHESTNUT-
We paddled about thirty miles that day, and
picked eight Sloths. They were found by pad-
dling along the shore, and watching the tree-
tops for things that looked like big gray spiders.
Sometimes we found our Sloth "spread-eagled "
on the outer branches of a tree; others would
be hanging upside down, as shown in the illus-
tration, but always eating. They eat so slowly
that before one meal is over, it is time for the
next. Usually the gun would bring them down,
but sometimes it was not necessary. Two were
taken alive by Paulie, who climbed up and
plucked them like so much fruit, and twice we
had to cut down trees.
North America had a very narrow escape
from being slothless. Two species of three-toed
sloths (genus Brad'-y-pus) are found in Panama,


but the two-toed species (Hoffmann's Sloth, 22
inches in length) is found as far north as north-
ern Costa Rica. Those who have handled the
latter species alive say that it possesses very
considerable power in its feet, and once a man's
hand is within its grasp, its strong, sharp, curved
claws can inflict real injury. It is on record that
one of these creatures once escaped from captiv-
ity, and traveled 8o0 yards in a single night.
Of the great order Marsupialia,- the quad-

rupeds having a pouch in the abdomen, wherein
the young are carried and nourished,- America
has but one group of representatives, the Opos-
sums. Far distant Australia is the true home
of the marsupials, where all save a very few of
her mammals are of that kind.
Just why the great zoologists of the present
day should have chosen to consider the Opos-
sum an animal of a lower order than the stupid
and helpless Sloth, and the third order from the
lowest of all, is not so easy to understand as it
ought to be. As a matter of fact, nature has
done a great deal for the Opossum far more
than for the great majority of quadrupeds.
Note what the creature is, and can do, and
match it if you can. It eats almost everything
that can be chewed-wild fruit, berries, green
corn, insect larva, eggs, young birds and quad-
rupeds, soft-shelled nuts, and certain roots. It
is a good climber, and has a very useful prehen-
sile tail. It forages on the ground quite as
successfully as any squirrel. It usually burrows
under the roots of large trees, where it is im-
possible for the hunter to dig it out; but some-
times it makes the mistake of choosing a hollow
log. When attacked, it often feigns death to
throw its assailants off their guard. Like the
bear and woodchuck, it stores up a plentiful sup-
ply of fat for winter use, when food is scarce; and,
above all, the female has a nice, warm pouch in
which to carry and protect her helpless young, in-
stead of leaving them in the nest to catch their
death of cold, or be devoured by some enemy.
The young of the Opossum vary in number
from seven to eleven, and at first are hairless,
blind, and utterly helpless. It is not until they
are about five weeks old that they begin to ven-
ture away from the mother, but for a season
they are very careful not to get beyond easy
distance from her shaggy coat.
Unfortunately for the VIRGINIA OPOSSUM,
whose range in this
country is almost iden-
(Di-derl'kys vir-gi-i-an'a.) tical with that of the
persimmon and the plantation negro, the tooth-
some quality of his flesh has made the negro
its most deadly enemy. In the Soutlh, the
moonlight possum hunt, with torches, dogs,
guns, and axes, is a diversion not to be despised;
but the hungry pot-hunter also has recourse to





traps of many kinds for the capture of this
much-coveted animal.
There are seven specimens of opossums found
in tropical North America, but only one species,
the VIRGINIA OPOSSUM, inhabits the United
States. It is at home throughout all the South-
ern States, and from New Jersey westward to
the Mississippi River, except in the regions
where it has been exterminated. It is also
found as far south as Brazil. Its habits have
attracted more attention and close study from
naturalists than those of any other small mam-
mal on our continent, so far as I am aware.

Thus endeth our lesson on the quadrupeds
of our own country and its environs. As these

papers have been in process of creation, the de-
plorable lack of zoological teaching in our pub-
lic schools particularly the higher schools in
our large cities has been impressed upon my
mind very many times. It seems as if our high-
school boys and girls have time, place, and
opportunity to learn something of everything
save the living creatures that God has made
so wonderfully, and put before us to teach us
valuable lessons, supply our wants, or provoke
us to industry. Will the time ever come when
a little systematic knowledge of the inhabitants
of this earth will be considered essential to
every person who would consider himself fairly
Let us hope so.



We 1-.oj dwput---1--
-. [II l-iii ,

Abiu.r t rc. r11 r jI~I p-

Till 1,z it -I-t -I I t t I: I

From I-, 1.:h thr-rrL Srit -. -r I tr- iilI,-
A s -mu hIi- t-lrn-i ri ir' J -17 "

fasblnj, t-:-ri I,.r' V rri d ri--*rth.
And 1--r*i -I. A'-k
Adjoinir.. r- i r I -A-t "41
Is ld--,holI a ili'
T7hre.- Iiurj,Jr.J nih I I --

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i#-. i-''' Is,~ :

I ri d.

Ir f


We 1-.oj dwput---1--
-. [II l-iii ,

Abiu.r t rc. r11 r jI~I p-

Till 1,z it -I-t -I I t t I: I

From I-, 1.:h thr-rrL Srit -. -r I tr- iilI,-
A s -mu hIi- t-lrn-i ri ir' J -17 "

fasblnj, t-:-ri I,.r' V rri d ri--*rth.
And 1--r*i -I. A'-k
Adjoinir.. r- i r I -A-t "41
Is ld--,holI a ili'
T7hre.- Iiurj,Jr.J nih I I --

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i#-. i-''' Is,~ :

I ri d.

Ir f


Hurrah! we 've reached the "Golden Gat,"
California's joy and pride;
Where all the ships of all the world
At once might safely ride.
Here San Francisco on her hills -M
Sits proudly by the sea;
While ships from China and Japan
Cast anchor at her quay.
This is a land of fruit and flowers, -
A land of golden grain; "
Where winters often are as kind
As summers are in Maine.
The warm Pacific waters lave .i
A thousand miles of shore,
And California every year
Still prospers more and more.
Yosemite, the valley grand,
Is found within this State;
Those who may see it stand in awe
To view the wonder great!

r;'; .....

(A Prize Puzzle.)



EACH number represents a question to be answered. In case a quotation is used give the book, play, or poem in
which it occurs, and the name of the author. Arrange the answers in their proper order to correspond with the
questions, and number them on the left-hand margin. Write a short accurate answer opposite each number. For
example, if you should read, "A king who never smiled again (41)," you would write your answer in this way:
" 41. Henry I. of England, it is said, never smiled after his son was lost on the White Ship."
Give your name, age, and address at the top of each page of the answers, leaving space enough above to fasten the
pages together. Use sheets of note-paper size, and black ink, and write on only one side of the paper.
Address: Office of ST. NICHOLAS,
33 East 17th St., New York City.
And write in left-hand lower corner of the envelope "Fairy Puzzle."

THE Tompkinses were perfectly delighted at
That there should be a fairy godmother at this
end of the nineteenth century was surprising
enough; it simply took their breath away when
she did them the honor to appear at the chris-
tening of their son and heir.
They were debating whether to call the little
fellow John or Aristides, when the door flew
open, and in walked the fairy godmother, armed
with a yard-long list of names for them to select
from. It began with a baby (i) who, hundreds
of years ago, had been placed almost under the
feet of the team which his father drove before
the plow. This warrior parent was feigning
madness at the time, but his anxiety to avoid
driving over his child betrayed his sanity.
Second on the list came a boy preacher (2)
whose eloquence brought disaster to a great
number of children nearly seven centuries
Mrs. Tompkins was slyly peeping over the
fairy's shoulder, not paying much attention to
anything but a charade that sorely puzzled her.
Then, when the godmother shifted the paper
so that the jingling words were no longer in
sight, Mrs. T. found herself repeating them
over and over as if her fate depended upon
finding an answer.

(3) 'T is a well-known story how on my third
The voice of a dying man was heard,
Commanding my first and second to speed
To the battle's front with flying steed.
No soldier my whole. I warrant him
Best mannered of carpet-knights so prim.

"Dear me!" sighed Mrs. T. "Perhaps the
very name we seek lies buried in that charade."
"Pooh!" said the fairy, "if you cracked
the nut, the kernel would not repay you for
your trouble. Besides, I am determined to
have my godson christened by the appellation
of the woman called by the poet Longfellow the
'Lady with a Lamp' (4). A testimonial fund
worth nearly a quarter of a million dollars was
offered to her, and with this fund was established
an important institution in aid of the work she
loved best."
In vain the parents protested against bur-
dening their son with a woman's name. The
fairy answered their objections by citing a dozen
instances where girls have been named Joseph-
ine, Henrietta, Edwina. For her part, she had
a poor opinion of a rule that does not work
both ways; but if the Tompkinses disapproved
of her views, she would simply withdraw and
leave them to their own devices. Seeing her
really offended, the parents hastened to effect


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a compromise. They suggested the feminine
name of a boy (5) who long ago created a furore
in London by his fine acting in Shaksperian
tragedy. The mollified fairy then departed,
promising to return on the morrow with many
gifts, which, she laughingly said, she would
fetch in a box of unwelcome things that held
also one precious gift (6).
True to her word, she arrived bright and
early next morning, but not before the drawing-
rooms were thronged with guests invited es-
pecially to meet her.
She proceeded without ceremony to open her
box, taking care, however, that no one should
catch a glimpse of the contents too soon. First,
she took out a number of white cards.
Now," said she, spreading them on a table,
" here are seventy-five cards, each bearing a
printed word. These seventy-five words, when
the cards are placed in proper order, will form
twelve well-known proverbs or quotations. But
that is not all. -You must arrange the twelve
lines in six couplets, each couplet perfect in
rhyme, though not all are correct in meter.
Of course the total number of words will be
seventy-five, for every card must be used.
It 's not very easy work," she added, mali-
ciously, but the couplets will at least furnish
some excellent advice for my godson."
What!" said the disappointed company,
"do you come here on a festive occasion to
treat us to moral lessons in poor meter ?"
Ingrates the fairy cried, know ye that
insolence to a fairy never goes unpunished ?
Since you speak so lightly of my verse, you shall
learn by experience whether it is easy to put
moral lessons in poor meter! "
So saying she gathered up the cards, and laid
them on the table in twelve rows, unequal in
length, until the entire lot was disposed of.
"Now find your twelve proverbs that rhyme
in couplets, and may you enjoy the task!" (7)
With a taunting laugh she whisked out of
the room, carrying the box under her arm.
As soon as the door closed behind her the
Tompkinses and their visitors began examining
the cards.
Meanwhile the fairy had gone upstairs to the
nursery. She unlocked the box once more,
and drew from it a horse-hair (8) that served a

Sicilian tyrant in rebuking a flatterer who en-
vied him; a coin showing the portrait of an
Emperor (9) who was so gigantic that his wife's
bracelet made him a finger-ring, and a sprig of
the shrub from which a royal house (io) de-
rived its name. These she placed in three cor-
ners of the baby's crib.
To remind thee, little one, of man's frailty,
his strength, and his mortality. Now for a talis-
man"; and she tied to the fourth post of the
bed a golden shoe from the hoof of a great
commander's favorite horse (11) whose head
was like that of another domestic animal.
Then, raising the infant's head, she put un-
der it a silken pillow bordered with hierogly-
phics copied from a celebrated stone (i2) found
by French soldiers in Egypt, and now preserved
in the British Museum.
Though we immortal creatures need it
not," said the fairy, I do not forget that one
of the greatest boons to humanity is balmy
After several times waving a Flower of the
Sun (13) above the crib, the fairy tripped light-
ly into the hall and down stairs.
There she found the Tompkinses and their
friends still engaged in trying to solve the
proverb puzzle.
SDisguising herself as a gipsy the fairy ad-
vanced toward the table and asked if she might
try her luck; then, without waiting for consent,
she tossed the cards about the table. Lo!
presto! the proper couplets lay plain as day
before the bewildered guests.
Come," said the fairy, since I have proved
so brilliant in this instance, suppose I try palm-
istry and tell your fortunes."
Of course each guest instantly extended a
"One at a time, good people," cried the
fairy. You," she continued, examining Tomp-
kins's broad palm, will become cleverer than
the Seven Wise Men of Greece (14).
"You," addressing Mrs. Tompkins, will
some day combine the skill of the spider who
tried to compete with a goddess (r5), with the
perseverance of one who is praised for destroy-
ing her work as fast as she completed it (16).
You," turning to a very thin gentleman, who
now resemble one who had a lean and hungry


look' (17), will grow to resemble another who
was 'fat and scant o'breath '" (8).
And I ?" cried an old woman, thrusting
out fingers brilliant with rings.
You shall go in search of a jewel worn in
the head of an ugly, venomous reptile (19).
"And now," the fortune-teller ended satiri-
cally, having given you something pleasant to
think about, I am ready to receive my reward.
What! not a piece of silver among you ? Then
take this, and this, and this."
Reassuming her fairy form she sprinkled the
assembly, not with the perfumes of Araby "
(20), but with water from the brooks in Val-
lombrosa (21).
She tore Jupiter's Beard (22) apart, scattered
the fragments right and left, and sent bits of
Zest (23) flying about the room.
One of the guests venturing to remonstrate,
received from her fingers a mere tap that left
him "The Man with the Broken Ear (24).
He remarked afterward that he thought the
blow had come from the "Man of the Iron
Hand" (25), whose story is told by a great
German writer.
Things were now confusion worse con-
founded, and the fairy seemed to enjoy the tur-
moil too much to let it subside. She rattled off
a number of the most perplexing puns and rid-
dles, which made a jumble something like this:

" There was once an innocent murderer (26),
An Alice who wept with delight (27),

FOR the best sets of answers to the foregoing puzzle
according to the conditions of the contest, ST. NICHOLAS
offers the following prizes:
One prize of Ten Dollars.
One prize of Nine Dollars.
One prize of Eight Dollars.
One prize of Seven Dollars.
One prize of Six Dollars.
Five prizes of Five Dollars each.
Ten prizes of Three Dollars each.
Fifteen prizes of Two Dollars each.
These, amounting to one hundred and twenty-five
dollars, will be given in the form of brand-new one-
dollar bills.
Directions for preparing and forwarding the answers
are given on page 432.
The competition is limited to subscribers and regular
readers of ST. NICHOLAS from the ages of ten to eigh-

A prelate (28) who met an inglorious death,
When he'd risen for life to a height.
A ship (29) that sails over the raging
Yet never arrives in port,
A comical player (30) who played on a
A trick of a terrible sort.
A titled young person (31)- you 've read of
her oft-
Whose costumes were patches and shreds;
A famous old monster (32) whom, never-
Women loved till they quite lost their heads.
A poet by nature, a pontiff by name (33)
And a poet who fits every pate (34);
A general (35) always ahead of time,
Though we speak of him now as "the
A cliff (36) with a voice every German knows;
A plant (37), bird and human as well;
A soldier who stood for centuries
In a city (38) where thousands fell."

Having delivered herself of this, the fairy
bade the company good morning and departed.
"And may it be our last experience of fairy
godmothers!" said the Tompkinses as they
locked the front door after her. She has
done nothing but tease and torment us since
she entered the house!"
You see, they did not know of the gifts she
had left with her little godson.

teen, inclusive. The Committee of Judges, in awarding
the prizes, will take into account not only the correctness
of the answers but the age of the sender and the neat-
ness of the manuscript. All sets of answers must be re-
ceived before March o2th, and no competitor may send
more than one copy.
Competitors may ask questions of their parents or
friends, and receive suggestions, but all who have been
so aided must, in sending in their numbered answers,
place a cross (X) opposite the number of each question
which they have been helped to solve. As a whole, the
puzzle is not very difficult. It requires a ready memory,
some knowledge of the best books to be consulted for the
answer to any given question, and ingenuity in following
up suggestions and clues until the right answer is found.
Moreover, many of the questions are directly in the line
of certain school studies, and refer to characters, quota-
tions, or historical incidents that are perhaps more famil-



iar to school boys and school girls than to their elders,
who have been out of school for some time.
In justice to all competitors, each set of answers sent
in must be signed by a parent, guardian, or teacher, giv-
ing the sender's name, age, and address in this form: I
hereby certify that this is the work of (name) of
- (address), aged .
Do not write letters or notes that require a reply, as
the Editor cannot undertake to answer questions con-
cerning this competition. The conditions are fully stated

The puzzle will reward patience and perseverance, and
we are sure the boys and girls who read the magazine
will be glad to show the tantalizing little Fairy God-
mother that their bright wits are equal to her quips and
A set of prizes in English money is offered upon the
same conditions to English readers of the magazine as
follows :
One prize of two pounds sterling,
Three prizes of one guinea each,
Ten prizes of a half-sovereign each.



OUR READERS will appreciate the charming frontis-
piece of this number, The Saraband," painted by the
French artist F. Roybet. The picture appeals espe-
cially to children because of the quaint little dancers
who "step it so featly to the music their father plays
upon the long, antique lute, while the mother looks on
with pride.
The saraband is an old dance not unlike the minuet,
but even slower and more stately. Probably learned
from the Moors, it was danced in Spain to the sound of
castanets, and from that country came into wide use and
popularity in Europe. The name is applied also to the
dance-music; and it is said that an old French poet,
when he was dying at the age of ninety, asked to have a
saraband played, that his spirit might pass away more
pleasantly! "

WE are glad to print further news of our old friend
"Owney of the Mail Bags, in a letter from -one of his
admirers, and in an item that appeared in the New York
"Sun of December 24:

THE ST. NICHOLAS for March, 1894, told the story of
"Owney of the Mail-Bags." We are a family with a
liking for dogs, and my boys were much interested in his
story, so, when he arrived in our small city in March,
1895, we, as a family, called upon him. He received us
kindly and courteously, but paid about as much attention
to us as we might expect from Queen Victoria. He is
evidently used to callers and consideration.
The postal clerk in whose care he was had him at his
own home, and Owney had had a bath and was resting
after his journey. He seemed tired and in need of rest,
too; so, after one or two short trips he was kept here a
week to rest, and during his stay his photograph was
taken. It resembles the picture in ST. NICHOLAS except
that he had a few checks on his collar, instead of the
heavy harness; but the few he wore seemed heavy
We were told that Owney had crossed the Atlantic
twice with mail, and was to have returned on the Elbe "
when she made her disastrous voyage, but missed the

Our friend the postal clerk borrowed the ST. NICHO-
LAS, so that he might read what it had to say of Owney,
for he said our-boys knew more about the postal dog than
he did.
Owney has not only learned the "secret of the mail
bags," but he knows the odor also, and recognizes the
postal clerks by it. There is quite a rivalry also among
them, for each one wants the honor of a trip with him,
but he does not stay long anywhere, and is passed along
from one line to another, and I suppose has traveled over
much of our country, and would tell many wonderful
tales if he could.
A few years ago there was at Cincinnati a convention
of the Railway Postal Clerks' Association, and there was
a benefit given them by one of the theaters. The hero
of the play was a postal-clerk, of course, and the boys
were anxious to have Owney appear also. It seemed
unusually hard to find him; telegrams were sent in
every direction, and he was finally found at Meadville,
Pa., where he had evidently decided to take a vacation
of a few days. He arrived in Cincinnati in time to ap-
pear on the stage on a truck-load of mail, and you may be
sure he brought down the house.
The summer after his visit here found him at Tacoma,
Wash.; from there he went to Alaska. When he re-
turned he seemed to fancy going to China, and last
August left Tacoma on the Northern Pacific steamer
"Victoria" for Hong Kong. On arrival there Captain
Panton will start him on a steamer for London by way of
India and Suez; thence he is to come by steamer to New
York and return overland to Tacoma, making a trip
around the world.
Owney is fifteen years of age, rather old for such ajour-
ney, and he may decide in his wise old head to return to
Albany on his arrival at NewYork,instead of continuing
the trip his friends have planned for him.


OWNEY, the shaggy little terrier who has been travel-
ing all over North America in postal cars, arrived at this
port yesterday on the steamship "Port Philip." There are
other curios and a large cargo of tea on the ship. She
had hundreds of rats aboard when she sailed from Yoko-
hama, on October 3, but Owney exterminated nearly
every one of them, thus fairly working his passage.
Owney travels on his reputation. Nobody owns him



now, and his original owner is not known to his many
biographers. A mail clerk discovered him, put him on
a car at Albany eight or nine years ago, and he stuck by
the car until another clerk tagged him and sent him on a
long journey. Since then he has traveled across the con-
tinent and over Canada many times.
He appeared at Tacoma last August with many tags
dangling from his stout, harness-like collar. The Morn-
ing Union of Tacoma decided to send him on a voyage
around the world, and added another tag to the collec-
tion, on which was printed: "Owney, boom Tacoma
while you live, and when you die be buried in a Tacoma-
made coffin." Postmaster A. B. Case of Tacoma con-
tributed another tag, which served as a letter of introduc-
duction for the traveler, inscribed: "To all who may
meet this dog: Owney is his name. He is the pet of
Ioo,ooo postal employees of the United States of Amer-
ica. He starts to-day, Aug. 19, 1895, for a trip around
the world. Treat him kindly, and speed him on his jour-
ney across ocean and land to Yokohama, Hong Kong,
and New York. From New York send him overland to
Tacoma by fast mail train. Who knows but that he may
compass the globe and beat the record! "
Owney will not beat the record, because he had to wait
the pleasure of those who gave him transportation.
Captain Grey willbring him up from Quarantine on the
Port Philip to-day and take him to the Post-office. He
will be put in a mail-wagon and sent up town to the
Grand Central Station. His friends the postal clerks
will take charge of him and send him flying westward.
Owney never crossed an ocean before he started for Yo-
kohama on a Pacific mail steamship. He is a good sailor,
though, and apparently enjoyed life on shipboard quite as
well as life in a postal car. The Port Philip, in her voy-
age from Yokohama, brought Owney through the China
Sea, Strait of Malacca, Indian Ocean, Gulf of Aden, Red
Sea, Suez Canal, Mediterranean Sea, Straits of Gibraltar,
and across the Atlantic. He had glimpses of Shanghai,
Foochow, Hong Kong, Singapore, Perim, Algiers, and
St. Michael's, in the Azores, where the steamship stopped
to coal.

THE most striking incident in the story "President
For One Hour," printed in the December, 1894, number
of ST. NICHOLAS, has recently been enacted in real life,
as this clipping from a Philadelphia paper will show:

(Special to the Public Ledger.)
ALTOONA, Nov. 6.-A few days ago an engine, which
had been left standing on the Horseshoe Curve of the
Pennsylvania Railroad at Kittanning Point while the en-
gineer and fireman got off to look at a freight wreck,
ran away. The fact was telegraphed ahead, and the run-
away locomotive was given a clear track through this
city. While it was going down the yard about twenty-five
miles an hour, Yard Conductor Henry Cresswell, at the
risk of his life, managed to jump on and stopped the engine
before it had done any damage. For this brave act Con-
ductor Cresswell has received a very complimentary letter
from Superintendent Sheppard, accompanied by a check
for fifty dollars.

We are glad to print herewith another letter from our
little Australian friend, Daisy Mundy. Her young Ameri-
can cousins, besides others of many nationalities, replied
generously to her appeal for paper-dolls in the Letter
Box of the August ST. NICHOLAS, and this is her
answer to them all:


TER-BOX. 437

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I thank you very much for in-
serting my letter and also for so kindly forwarding the
letter and dolls from the little girl in Virginia. I think
they are lovely and very well made, too. I received 226
letters from the readers of ST. NICHOLAS, and to show
how widely circulated your magazine is, I had letters
from Switzerland, Austria-Hungary, Egypt, Jamaica,
England, Scotland, Mexico, all parts of Canada, the
United States, and South America. I cannot thank the
boys and girls enough for their kindness. Some of the
parcels came broken, and I do not know whom they are
from. I received a lot of paper-dolls, with which I
am very pleased. We do not have paper-dolls in Aus-
tralia, but I heard of them and was always very anxious
to get a few. I would be very grateful if you could
print my letter, so those who do not receive an ac-
knowledgment will know that their address has been
lost through the letter being broken. I had some beau-
tiful dolls, and I cannot thank them enough.
I have had an attack of La Grippe, and so have not been
able to write sooner. Wishing a happy, prosperous
New Year to you and your readers,
I remain your devoted reader,
P. S. Lily also sends love and wishes for a happy
New Year.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder how many of your
readers have lived in a mining camp. This camp, of
Morenci, lies in the mountains of Arizona, over 5,000 feet
high. It is a copper-mining camp, and it is very inter-
esting to go in the different mines. Some of the shafts
are very deep, and the men go down in buckets. Before
I had been here long I encountered a large tarantula
and a rattlesnake.
I remain your faithful reader, D. F.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl who lives on
a Hudson's Bay post on the Labrador coast, and I
thought I would like to tell you this little story. This
year, 1895, the post has been overrun with squirrels, and
these mischievous little animals found their way into the
trading store, and in consequence were a great plague.
One morning the storekeeper went to the store, and hap-
pened to take down a pair of long boots, which were
hanging from a beam in the ceiling. As he lifted them
down it struck him they were rather heavy. He looked
in, and lo! and behold! they were stuffed full of ships'
biscuits, prunes, and raisins. He emptied them out on
to a box and went to breakfast. When he came back he
went to look at a squirrel's trap, but before he got there
he saw a squirrel running away from where he had put
the biscuits, etc., with a large piece of biscuit in his
mouth. He took down two other pairs of boots, and
they also were full of biscuits and fruit, so this was
where the little rogues had their larder. Don't you
think the squirrels chose a funny place for keeping their
food? I do. Yours truly,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps you would like to hear
from a little Polish girl who lives in St. Petersburg. We
have been taking you for two years, and we like you very
much and always look forward to your arrival. I thought
some of your readers would like to hear of a trip we made
to the greatest waterfall in Europe, called "Imatra," in
Finland, near Lake Saima. We left St. Petersburg at
five o'clock in the afternoon. The train for Finland was
so crowded that we could not get places for all our party


until we came to Terioky, where some people left the train.
We had to change at Viborg, where we had just ten min-
utes to take our tea, which was very hard to get. There
were so many people hurrying and scurrying on all sides,
and then so many false alarms, that we thought we should
be left behind. However, at last we were comfortably
seated and could enjoy the lovely views as we were car-
ried rapidly along. At eleven o'clock we arrived at Imatra
and took the diligence and were soon within hearing of
the great rushing water of the falls. Oh, how beautiful
it was in the moonlight! The hotel was very full, and as
we had secured our rooms beforehand by telegram, and
were very tired, we went to bed and slept very soundly
notwithstanding the noise of the water in its mad rush
from rock to rock. In the morning we were soon ready
to explore. When we came quite near to the fall, after
descending many steps, the water was quite white, and it
seemed as if it were boiling with the force and rush of
the great volume. We could not stay very long, as we
intended to make an excursion to Rauha. The diligence
was ready when we went back to the hotel, and we started
with three horses (which we call "troika ") up hill and
down hill, flying along the road singing and laughing all
the way until we arrived in sight of the lake at Rauha.
There is a hotel where we ordered luncheon, and while it
was being prepared we took a boat and went for a row on
the lake. In an hour we came back very hungry, had our
lunch and returned to Imatra to rest before going to visit
the little falls of Imatra. It seemed to me very strange
that the waters were quite calm on both sides of the river,
but the middle was one seething mass. We hired a man
to throw in a barrel and a wooden buoy, to see the effect,
and very rapidly they were carried along from wave to
wave, dashing against the rocks, until they were carried
into the smoother water, where a boy could go in a boat
to fetch them. Next morning we took a diligence to
Jois-Tilla,where we lunched, and then went in the steamer
through Lake Saima. We had to pass through some
canals, and it was very amusing to go lower and lower as
we passed through the locks. We arrived at Viborg,
where we dined, and afterwards took the last train to St.
Petersburg, where we remained for the night, or rather
for the next morning, for we did not arrive till 2 o'clock
A. M., and at ten we were on our way home. My little bro-
ther and sisters were waiting to receive us. We were once
seven children, but we lost our eldest brother; he was a
lover of ST. NICHOLAS. J. B-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Brooklyn. I stayed
for the summer at East Windsor, Conn. They raise to-
bacco a great deal. Perhaps some of your readers who
have never seen tobacco growing would like to know how
it is raised. First it is "set out," then it is "hoed" and
"cultivated," which means going between the rows with
a machine that throws the dirt up on each side. Tobacco
sometimes grows to a height of five and a half feet. It
has to have the flowers on the top taken off and the shoots
or suckers also taken off. There are three ways of get-
ting in tobacco: spearing, hooking, and stringing. The
tobacco is hung in a shed and dried. When it is dry it
is stripped off the stalks and packed in boxes ready to be
sold. The price of tobacco ranges from one cent to fifty
cents a pound.
I remain,
Your interested reader, FRED L. H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Greek girl living
in Geneva. I have taken your magazine since I was nine

years old (I am now twelve), and I write a letter to you
because I have never seen one yet from a Greek girl.
We like Geneva very much. It is a pretty little town,
with nice streets and shops, and many trees. It is
splendidly situated, and there are lots of beautiful walks
just out of town, by the lake, or in the country.
We always spend our summer holidays in the moun-
tainous parts of Switzerland, and generally enjoy our-
selves very much when the weather is fine, because then
we can go on long excursions, or play tennis. Last
year we went on a mountain train part of the way up
the Jungfrau, a little lower than where the snow begins.
From the hotel we walked to a splendid and very large
glacier, in which a man had dug a large ice-grotto.
We went into this grotto, carrying torches; and it was
beautiful to see the flame of the torches shining on the
ice, which was dark blue, as it was so thick. As we
walked back to the hotel we saw many avalanches fall-
ing in the valley. They make a dreadful sound like
thunder, so loud that we heard several we could not see.
Your affectionate reader, ALEXANDRA M- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for eleven
years, and have eleven lovely fat volumes at which we are
never tired looking.
I wonder if some of your readers would like to hear
about the part of the country we were in last year. It
was so interesting. We were staying near Cranborne,
in Dorsetshire. A few miles away there was a high
hill on which were many earthworks made by the Ro-
mans. From this camp stretched large dike, which we
could see winding its way for miles over Salisbury Plain.
Here and there are dotted barrows where the ancient
Britons were buried. In some of these have been found
bones, pottery, and flint arrowheads. In the village of
Cranborne stands the manor-house, which was built by
King John as a hunting-lodge, and it was from there
that he started to hunt the deer on Cranborne Chase.
In later years Queen Elizabeth stayed at this house;
and we were shown her saddle, and the sofa she once
rested upon.
Now, dear ST. NICHOLAS, I must not take up any
more of your most valuable space, so with many, many
thanks for the pleasure you have given me in the past, and
wishing you all good luck in the future, I shall always
remain your devoted admirer, WINIFRED G. B--.

We thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Marguerite and
Edith M. T., Perseus," Bross and Max, Marian G.,
Annie R., Edgar A. S., Lucy A. D., "Methuselah," Clari-
bel K., Hetty M. A., Pearl K., Florence H., Eleanor M.,
Margaret E., Carolyn L., Grant T., Samuel P., Fannie
C. P., Nyna McE., Louis M. U., Beatrice A. de L., Ru-
fus P. D., J. S. E., Anna S., Ralph A., Eleanor A. M.,
Blanche E. S.," A Friend," Cora C., C. T., Jr., Bessie
C., Belle B., Albert S. C., May A. M., Margaret D.,
Kate L., A. D. L., Muriel S., "Rhadamanthus," Ger-
trude Kellogg, Julia Switzer, Claire, Mabel, and Bea-
trice, Julia Cole, Thirza Bromley, Alice N., Maude and
Eugenia R., Margaret de G. H., Bee D., Louise Matte-
son, Marjorie Dyrenforth, Elizabeth B. E., Stillman B.,
Lorna Dickson, Ruby Nicoll, Russell Walton, May and
Eleanor, F. M. A., F. de Courcy Heriot, B. L. B., Harry
H., Worth Colwell, Julia C., Philip Earle Hamilton,
Lottie V. Finley, Margaret Rea, Jamie T. Anderson,
Annie C. R., Francis C. Nickerson, J. Homer Hunt,
Gordon Morse, E. Baldwin G., Dorothea G.," Evilo,"
Elta Mae Armstrong, Van Rensselaer G. Wilbur, Ken-
neth H. Goss, Elsa Elmenhorst, Kathleen Doyle, Nellie P.


ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. Riley. i. Rakes. 2. Piano. 3. Dolls.
4. Wheel 5. Daisy.
RHOMBOID. Across: I. Holes. 2. Raven. 3. Dived. 4. Le-
roy. 5. Romeo.
OCTAGON. i. Zed. 2. Zebra. 3. Ebbed. 4. Dread. 5. Add.
NOVEL ACROSTIC. Whittier. Cross-words: i. Stonebow. 2.
Midnight. 3. Material. 4. Munition. 5. Pastoral. 6. Princess.
7. Merchant. 8. Ruminate.
ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG. Charles Lamb. i. Can. 2. The. 3.
Tea. 4. Arc. 5. Log. 6. Pen. 7. Yes. 8. Ell. 9. Alb. oo.
Emru. x. Hub.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Raccoon. Cross-words: I. Perch. 2. Quail.
3. Yacht. 4. Racer. 5. Goose. 6. Cross. 7. Canoe.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. i. Grate. 2. Roger. 3. Again. 4.
Teine. 5. Ernes. II. Crust. 2. Ruler. 3. Ultra. 4. Serry.
5. Trays. III. i. Scent. 2. Canoe. 3. Endow. 4. Noose. 5.
Tewel. IV. i. Cadet. 2. Anona. 3. Dower. 4. Eneid. 5
Tardy. V. i. Lacks. 2. Acorn. 3. Corea. 4. Kreng. 5. Snags.
CUBE. From i to 2, library; to 3, lappets; 2 to 4, younger; 3
to 4 sampler; 5 to 6, peoples; 5 to 7, paraded; 6 to 8, samples; 7
to 8, damages; i to 5, lamp; 2 to 6, yams; 4 to 8, rats; 3 to 7, sled.
RHYMED TRANSPOSITIONS. Staple, plates, palest, pleats, petals,

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 DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December i5th, from Paul Reese- W. and
E. G. L.- Josephine Sherwood- G. B. Dyer- P. C. and R. R. Stanwood -" Two Little Brothers "- The Tellings "- W. Y. W.-
"One of Five Cousins" "Jersey Quartette" "M. McG." "Dond Small" Buckeye Nut-cracker" Clive Mabel and
Henri- Hubert L. Bingay- Clara A. Anthony- Addison Neil Clark -" Charles Carroll "- Jo and I H. G. E. and A. E.- Blanche
and Fred Dee and Co." Chiddingstone Kathlyn B. Stryker Walter and Eleanor Furman Robert S. Clement "9 and
35 -" Four Weeks of Kane Paul Rowley.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December i5th, from Seth H. Moseley, 2d, I-Emma
Giles, i P. D. S. and A. M. S., 3 Julia Switzer, i No name, Painted Post, i G. A. Hallock, 2 Dorothy Gittings, 2 Ethel M.
Yoxall, 2 -Helen M. Shriver, 2-Kate Lowell, i--Irma Hirsehl, Charles Townsend, i--Abbie Chandler, Elizabeth P. Stevens,
Priscilla P. Jouett, and Winifred Hanus, 3- Helen A. Kirkland, 2- Helen L. Fnos, 2 Fred K. Haskell, 2 Herbert S. Abraham, 3-
W. P. Anderton, I A. S. and C. B., 4 -" Kearsarge," 4 E. F. and G. S., 3 Albert P. Weymouth, i -L. O. E., 9- F. Goyeneche,
3 Geneva G. Matthews, i- Herbert N. Arnstein, I Debe," i Mary K. Rake, i Ralph C. Turner, i Effie K. Talboys, 8 -
Sabra Scovill, x Carl and Conrad V. Bliicher, 9 Kilkenny Cats," 7-J. O'Donohoe Rennie, -- S. Stankowitch, Jr. 4 Edge-
water Two," g- Embla," 9- Florence and Flossie, 9 E. J. Darling, 2 Frank Preston, 6 Frederica Yeager, 6- Nemo," 5-
"Blue-eyed Kitten," 7 H. J. Rose, 2- Marianne and Harriet Hamilton, 9- Chas. R. Hopkins, i- Marguerite Sturdy, 8 Mary N.
Williams, 9- M. J. Philbin, 7- Norman A. Bill, 6- Sigourney Fay Nininger, 9-" Merry and Co.," 8-" The Butterflies," 7-Olive
Lupton, 6 E. C. C. E., 6.




WHEN the six objects in the above illustration have
been rightly guessed, and the names (which are of un-
equal length) written one below the other, the final
letters will spell the name of an American writer.


I. ONE of the United States. 2. Each. 3. A small
three-masted vessel. 4. An old word meaning to raise.
5. Silver, pounded into ingots of the shape of ashoe, and
used as currency in China. "SAND CRABS."

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the
name of a religious holiday.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A cleansing substance. 2. Harm-
less. 3. A narrow opening. 4. To bridge. 5. Loca-




tion. 6. A kitchen utensil. 7. The highest point. 8.
Part of a stair. 9. A title of respect used in addressing
a sovereign. o1. A group of islands. II. A bag. 12.
To peel. 13. A blow. 14. The fifteenth of March. 15.
To remain. 16. To destroy.

MYfirst I have no sort of doubt
You will find it in, if you find it out.
My second will be already got
Whether you ever get it or not.
My whole is but a piece of metal,
But its use I will leave for you to settle.

I. IN elegant. 2. A small animal. 3. A country of
Asia. 4. Sincere. 5. The numbers from thirteen to
nineteen. 6. An animal. 7.. In elegant.

TxRamul LM



EACH blank is to be filled by a word of four letters.
No two words are alike, though the same four letters,
properly arranged, may be used to make the five missing
Each passer-by did * awhile to see
The * a-row upon the balcony.
Two little boys forgot their * and stood;
One took his as near them as he could.
That r of brightness in the dusty street
Held their admiring eyes, and chained their feet.

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 popular author.

ACROSS: I. A vessel. 2. To engage for pay. 3.
The expressed juice of the grape, or other fruit, before
fermentation. 4. An heroic poem. 5. A period of
time. 6. Sediment.
DOWNWARD: i. In rhomboid. 2. An exclamation.
3. To try to gain. 4. Authentic. 5. To discover.' 6. Fast-
ened. 7. A vehicle. 8. A musical tone. 9. In tri-
angle. M. N. M. and M. B. c.

THE names of seventeen generals are concealed in the
following story. Which are they?
Jack Burns, the old fisherman, sat on the lee side of
an old stone wall. Jack's only son stood by him eating
a rasher Ida Norton, a young emigrant, had given him,

she meantime trying to hook erratic minnows that would
not be caught. At his cottage door there stood a man,
his garb ragged and torn. "I fear lying in bed will not
be well liked in this neighborhood," said Jack, disap-
The man, by name Alibeau, regarded him crossly.
"It's a long street that has no turning," he said. "They
will be glad to know me yet. My mother has priceless jew-
els and my father has bank stock. I will have him organ-
ize a bank here. But Leroy must not know-" Here
the laughter of the others stopped him, and I heard no

I 3

4 2
CROSS-WORDS: I. Continuing for a long time. 2. A
tree that furnished the precious wood of which the ark,
tables, and altars of the Jewish tabernacle were made. 3.
A female public speaker. 4. Animals of the weasel
family. 5. Certain kinds of small dogs. 6. To defame.
7. Uncontrolled.
From I to 2, a Christian name; from 3 to4, a surname;
together they form the name of one of the signers of the
Declaration of Independence.

SHE sits beside the 1-2-3-4 fire bright;
Upon her 1-3-4-2 a bonnet,
Tied with a 4-3-1-2, a perfect fright,
A flower were better on it.
She 's in 3 1-2-4 because I smiled -
I cannot 1-2-4 3 sulky child.


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. The noise made
by a serpent. 2. Notion. 3. A line of junction. 4.
Exactly similar.
meaning to rob. 2. Like ebony. 3. Empty. 4. Fin-
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. An old word meaning
"easy." 2. To abound. 3. An old word meaning
"health." 4. An old spelling of "emu."
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. A swift animal.
2. An eastern weight for pearls. 3. To rub or grate
with a rough file. 4. To catch sight of.
the sight. 2. An old word meaning "good will." 3.
To look on with sly hatred or contempt. 4. To jerk.



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