• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 The ballad of Betty the bound...
 His father's price
 The Porcupine
 The song of the skipping rope
 The prize cup
 A stroll in the garden of...
 The green satin gown
 Shooting-stars that reach...
 The children of Chinatown in San...
 Sindbad, Smith & co.
 The swordmaker's son
 A May-day shower
 A music-loving rabbit
 A problem
 Spring house cleaning
 The perverse songster
 A party by the name of Smith
 The red bird's matins
 Some war courtesies
 Two pictures
 Sweet confidence
 Little Roger's prayer
 Pussy Mitz and doggie Spitz
 Rhymes of the states
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00311
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00311
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Frontispiece
        Page 530
    The ballad of Betty the bound girl
        Page 531
        Page 532
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
    His father's price
        Page 536
        Page 537
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
        Page 541
        Page 542
        Page 543
        Page 544
        Page 545
    The Porcupine
        Page 546
        Page 547
    The song of the skipping rope
        Page 548
        Page 549
    The prize cup
        Page 550
        Page 551
        Page 552
        Page 553
        Page 554
        Page 555
        Page 556
        Page 557
        Page 558
        Page 559
    A stroll in the garden of England
        Page 560
        Page 561
        Page 562
        Page 563
    The green satin gown
        Page 564
        Page 565
        Page 566
        Page 567
        Page 568
        Page 569
    Shooting-stars that reach the earth
        Page 570
        Page 571
        Page 572
        Page 573
        Page 574
    The children of Chinatown in San Francisco
        Page 575
        Page 576
        Page 577
    Sindbad, Smith & co.
        Page 578
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
        Page 582
        Page 583
        Page 584
        Page 585
    The swordmaker's son
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
        Page 589
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
    A May-day shower
        Page 593
    A music-loving rabbit
        Page 594
    A problem
        Page 595
    Spring house cleaning
        Page 596
    The perverse songster
        Page 597
    A party by the name of Smith
        Page 598
        Page 599
        Page 600
    The red bird's matins
        Page 601
        Page 602
        Page 603
    Some war courtesies
        Page 604
        Page 605
        Page 606
    Two pictures
        Page 607
    Sweet confidence
        Page 608
    Little Roger's prayer
        Page 609
    Pussy Mitz and doggie Spitz
        Page 609
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 610
        Montana
            Page 610
        North and South Dakota
            Page 611
    The letter-box
        Page 612
        Page 613
        Page 614
    The riddle-box
        Page 615
        Page 616
    Back Matter
        Page 617
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text









A
! _


,i1
'i i

i, r iifr


K!. i


,_ &- _
^7 x--
^ '*" ;^^
if. ^ --- '! ',i


"SHE CLUNG TO THE DOORWAY AND WATCHED THE WILD FLIGHT."
(SEE "THE BALLAD OF BETTY THE BOUND GIRL.")


4


-i-


." ,-,h


h
.b.- p


5~il


-*, ,1w^ .2
ya ,.
te;: Ir .-


c~nur~ .r
li'+ ,'
``














ST. NICHOLAS.


VOL. XXIII.


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


T F-,, B.Il,,-J ,I I ..-
.... -.. --i- S





I /


t".. 775 '
* 1775*


BY ETHEL PARTON.

She was the only one who stayed-
Betty the bound-girl, Farnaby's maid.
(Lads and lasses, come hither and heed!)
Her small hands toiled till their work was done,
Her little brown feet disdained to run
For Fire or Sword or Regular's gun !
(And this is the ballad of Betty, her deed.)

MIDMOST April and feel of the May,
Balm in the air and joy in the day;

Workaday robins, courting at ease
In the dawn-pink cloud of the blossoming trees;


No. 7.






[MAY,


THE BALLAD OF BETTY THE BOUND-GIRL.


Quarreling orioles,
4 sunset drest,
Pilfering scraps for
their swinging
nest;
SAnd swooping sud-
denly into
sight,
Bright as the blue-
fire noonday's
"AT THE OX-TROUGH'S BUBBLING
BRINK." height,
A bluebird, venturing nigh to drink
At the homely ox-trough's bubbling brink.
Within-doors, Betty, as blithe as a bird,
Answered the whistles and calls she heard,-
Pursing her little round mouth until
'T was chirrup for chirrup and trill for trill!
Gay little Betty! no one to-day
To scold or hurry her: all away--
All the folks but old Deborah Short
Gone to a wedding in Newburyport.
Old Aunt Short, who was left behind
With her ninety years and her feeble mind,


MW



-r A
Afl~ r'


CHIRRUPP. FOR CHIRRUP, TRILL FOR TRILL "


Blinking and dozing, sunk in her chair-
Left with the house to the bound-girl's care.

Deft little Betty! She worked and sang
Till the bright tins quivered, the rafters rang,





j--



,












,
,-, .'






"BLINKING AND DOZING, SUNK IN HER CHAIR."

And she stopped for breath, while her red
cheeks glowed--
And -Who 's that comes o'er the rise o' the
road ?

Who rides so fast? and oh, what does he cry,
That the folh turn out as he hastens by ?

She ran to the door, and the hoarse voice
cried:
Now, good folk, haste ye to fly or hide!

"For the Regulars come, and they come this.
way,
And the word is Pillage, and Burn, and Slay /

They 're in Ipswich now, and the town fares-
ill;
There 's red smoke rolling by Heartbreak
Hill ;


532






THE BALLAD OF BETTY THE BOUND-GIRL.


" And borne on the breezes
came once and again
The cracking of muskets
and shouting of men-

"I heard as Ihurried. They're
coming They're near!
Fly, fly for your lives, for
the British are here! "

Then, galloping onward, the
weary white horse,
With Panic at heel in his
laboring course,

His heavy hoofs thudding
the roll as he ran,
Alarumed the wayside and
roused every man.


SInt


Oh, wild was the terror he
left as he sped;
Each sound on the soft air came laden
dread!

The men ran to harness, the women to pa
They started and shrieked if a whip chan
to crack.


Ikv) at


"OH, WILD WAS THE TERROR HE LEFT AS HE SPED!"

vith They loaded up wagons and mounted the pile;
They lashed the poor horses for mile upon mile.

ck: Big Jed, called the Bully, in frenzied alarm
ced Was off with a spare-rib tucked under his arm
(Jed, Betty's worst torment, the scoffer at girls,
Who laughed at her freckles and pulled her
brown curls);
And flying o'er fences and leaping o'er streams
(Such jumps as a
sleepertakes J
breathless in
dreams), a A W


"FLINGING THE SILVERWARE INTO THE WELL."
A filly that whinnied turned brown faces pale,
And voices cried, Murder! if one dropped
a rail!

To saddle and pillion they scrambled pell-
mell-
First flinging the silverware into the well!


He ran for a
mile, and
another,
and three,
And climbed at
the last to
the top of
a tree:
Where unharm-
ed, well
provisioned,
but quaking
with fright,
He shivered and
night!


SRAN FO A MILE.
"HE RAN FOR A MILE."


shuddered and chattered all


1896.]


533


1


1







534 THE BALLAD OF BETTY THE BOUND-GIRL. [MAY,
But Betty ? Ah, Betty was not of that make- While Aunt Debby's old voice whined, com-
She stood to her post for old Deborah's sake. plaining and thin:
"My pillow wants plumping; you, Betty, come
With her heart in her throat, and her freckled in! "
cheeks white,
She clung to the doorway and watched the
wild flight -

Watched neighbors and friends as they passed
her and fled,
And called her to Come! while she shook
her small head.

E'en when one drew rein as he galloped, and
cried,
"The mare '11 carry double! Up, Betty, and
ride!"

Brave Betty, poor Betty, took one step -but
one -
Then back to the doorway, and bade him
ride on,










She turned and went in, and to working once
more:
She polished the tables, she scrubbed up the
floor.

.- With work, hardest work, she held panic at
bay;
Scoured tins, and feared death, through the
long, dragging day.

And that 's all! all that happened : it was
but a scare;
The fighting was fancy, the British were--
air !

The farms lay unharried. Hours after, when
came
The message of safety, with laughter and
"'NOW, GOOD FOLK, HASTE YE TO FLY OR HIDE!'" shame






THE BALLAD OF BETTY THE BOUND-GIRL.


" m ,.


"TROOPED MEN-FOLK AND GOODWIVES RETURNING."


Trooped men-folk and goodwives, returning Little Betty alone stood at setting of sun,
to claim Tired, pale, but unshamed, with her day's
Homes abandoned in terror at sound of a name I work done!

It was not cowards alone who fled,
Trembling bullies like braggart Jed;
(Lads and lasses, 't were well to heed!)
Men who soon, ere the summer was done,
At Bunker Hill bore the patriot gun
Ran that day, when she would not run -
And this is the ballad of Betty, her deed/





i


"i""i i!











HIS FATHER'S PRICE.

By JOHN BENNETT.


"COME, Wat; be yare* with thy dues, man, "I have told thee that I am beholden for
and do na keep me waiting, or I shall be late naught to Sir Richard," said he, shortly; and
to nonemeat."t told thee time and again until I am weary. Go
The speaker was a stout fellow in a coarse after thy master, and tell him the same.
surcoat of sky-blue banded with gold. He Thou 'It get no corn, nor eels, nor barley-straw
wore a short sword at his belt, and the brim of from me, so broke I my neck! And that is
his gray felt cap was caught up at the side with the long and the short of it."
a metal badge in the shape of a red-legged What ? How now?" cried the reevesman,
Cornish chough, or crow. He was leaning upon hotly, turning about. Haro, haro! Master
an ashen stave, shod with iron at the tip, and Joscelyn! The rascal saith he will na pay!"
he frowned impatiently as he looked after the At his shout the lord's reeve turned, and
knot of men-at-arms and servitors further down with short orders to the rest, came jouncing
the winding road among the straggling huts. back with three sturdy fellows at his ass's heels.
They were the men of the lord's reeve or "How now, Wat Faulconer? he said,
steward, gathering the quarter's rental from sharply, for he was a shrewd man. "Art thou
that strip of Wensleydale held in villeinage t gone raving luniac? Where is thy duty?" II
by the Lords Scroope of Bolton Castle. They The villager doffed his cap, but spoke up
drove before them sheep and cattle, swine, stoutly as ever, "My duty is in Coverham
goats, and two stout hackneys laden with poul- Abbey bins, Master Joscelyn, where it be-
try, cheese, grain, and vegetables. The lord's longeth, and nowhere else. I told thee this
reeve himself bestrode a solemn little ass with before, and shall na tell it again."
brass-buckled trappings and coarse housings of I have naught to do with Coverham Abbey
blue and gold. Behind him jolted three clumsy bins," said the lord's reeve, sourly, with a frown.
carts weighed down with corn. This and all that Thou art beholden to my lord, Sir Richard, for
went before was the Lammastide dues of the homestead, plow-land, and three holdings in his
tenants upon the manor lands, demesne fields; and thy dues are payable
Come, Wat, thy dues," again cried the man- this day, to me hereupon, as the lord's steward
at-arms, waxing wrathful at the delay. "I '11 of Bolton Castle, without gainsaying. There-
bide thy foolishness no longer." fore pay, or thou shalt dearly abide the lack."
The man to whom he spoke stood sullenly Now I rede thee well, Master Joscelyn Du
at the threshold of a wattled hut, in some things Feu," said the other, very slowly, with a sparkle
better than the rest. He was a bull-necked, of red anger kindling deep in his blue eyes.
ruddy-cheeked fellow, with crisply curling yel- Free was I born, and freeman am I, and in
low hair, and a thick, short beard that was so much as good as thou. Thou wost well
tinged with red. His shoulders were so broad that I hold my homesteading and my land
that they fairly filled the low door behind him, of Coverham Abbey, and owe no due or ser-
and darkened the dirt-floored room; and his vice in villeinage to thy lord. Pass by, and
sunburnt wrists were round as the branches of lat me be."
a beech-tree. His short upper lip was drawn The reeve turned lobster-red.
back bitterly, showing his strong white teeth "What--how?" cried he, scowling. "Words
when he spoke. His voice was full and bluff. from thee, dog ? "
*Ready. tAn afternoon meal. t Rent service. About the Ist of August. I Rent. IEstate. **Knowest.






HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


Words, or anything that thou wilt but ren-
tals that I do not owe," said the villager, stub-
bornly. "I hold of the abbey, and to the
abbey I pay. If the holding be wrong, it is for
the abbey and thy master to settle, not for thee
and me."
Thine holding and thine abbey be hanged!"
cried the reeve. "This land is my lord's, and
thy duty is-his. Now pay it, on thine ears,'or
thou shalt pay it with thy skin."
The four men-at-arms stood round about the
stout-backed villager, grasping their staves. He


"'I TELL THEE THAT I OWE THEE N

shifted his footing so that he faced them all,
squaring his shoulders doggedly, and clenching
his hard, brown fists.
"I tell thee that I owe thee naught, and
naught shalt thou get of me, so broke I my
neck And if I owed thy lord hand-, land-, lip-
or life-service, he should have none of them
from me. He hath his price like a chapman's*
VOL. XXIII.- 68. Peddler's.


trash, and bought his lordship like a huxter in
the streets of York."
"Thou false-mouthed lurdan cried one
of the men-at-arms, aiming a fierce blow with
his heavy staff as he spoke.
Faulconer dodged the humming staff with
wonderful swiftness, and, jumping in as it whis-
tled past his head, struck the fellow under the
ear such a blow with his fist that he dropped
as if felled by a sledge-hammer, and rolled
twice over and over in the dirt.
The other three let drive at once, but two fell





litg

























AUGHT!' THE VILLAGER EXCLAIMED."

short, and only burned the air. The staff of the
third caught the villager across the nape of his
neck, and he dropped in a heap, half stunned.
The fellow that he had knocked down sprang
up with a curse, and seeing him down, whipped
out his short sword, and would have stabbed
him as he lay, but his comrade caught his arm.
Hold hard there, Adam!" cried the reeve.
t Blockhead.


537






HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


" No more of that, if thou hast usage for thine
ears. Sir Richard will not have the dale a
shambles like thy London town."
"The rascal struck me," panted the man-at-
arms, striving to be loose.
'T is what Sir Richard feeds thee for,"
answered the reeve, with a grim smile. Hold
hard, I rede thee, or thou 'It catch it all the
worse. Sir Richard is a stern man, but a just
withal, and will have none of thy snap-judg-
ments heading off his manor-court. Here, Je-
han, bind the fellow's arms, and see well to it;
he cometh to."
What of his duty, master?" asked the man-
at-arms who stood within the paling fence, ey-
ing a straw-bound beehive with a hungry eye.
"This hath been a master-fine summer for
honey; and there be flitches here upon the
hooks inside that bite me where I live!"
"To that I will see hereafter," said the reeve;
"dues are little things, I wot,* to what the dog
hath said of Sir Richard. A man with a price--.
his lordship bought! Marry, but his tongue
shall cost him dear! Ay, thou muckle-headed
fool," said he, turning upon Wat Faulconer, who
was now upon his feet, fast bound, and dizzy
from the blow that knocked him down, "thy
silly tongue hath wrung thine own neck. Thou 'It
dance on wind before to-morrow night, or my
name 's not Joscelyn Du Feu!"
A few gaping children followed them a little
way. Some one or two shock-headed villeins f
looked stolidly up from their toil, and then
went sulkily on, sweating at their tasks. They
held their own tongues; what matter was it of
theirs if their neighbor could not hold his ?
Faulconer's folly was Faulconer's own fault,
not theirs; and so Faulconer might himself
abide the upshot.

In those days the bridle-path from Bolton
Castle to Leyburn followed the Ure down to
Wensley way. There it turned from the marshy
land and ran along the slopes below the steep
heights of what is now known as "the Shawl."
Upon the grassy top of one of the knolls be-
low the Shawl, a party of sturdy boys were lying
idly in the sun, herding the cattle and the
sheep upon the manor commons. Some were
*Think. t Laborers. t Castle. S S


munching wild mallows, others only stared
lazily up into the blue, unclouded English sky.
Just beyond, upon a little ridge, one hawk-
eyed lad stood bolt upright, half hidden by a
clump of haw, looking keenly out across the
valley below. Dark woods and sunny fallows,
shining becks and checkered fields of yellow
stubble, lush green meadow-land and faintly
trampled roads, filled all the fair dale at his
feet. Five miles west the towers of Bolton Castle
shone in the glowing light. Two miles south
loomed up the dark walls of Middleham Keep,l
awaiting the coming of Warwick the King-
Maker. And far away in the east proud J ervaulx
Abbey slumbered in the sun.
But it was not the fair landscape that the
hawk-eyed youngster watched.
"Ss-sst! he hissed sharply. "Ss-sst! Here
cometh a drowsy monk at a snail's pace! "
The rest sprang up and crouched behind the
scattered haws, each clamping a hard, round
ball of tough red clay upon the tip of a springy
hazel wand he held in his hand.
The traveler rode but slowly, though his fiery
black horse caracoled and fretted, danced from
side to side, and shied at even the shadows of
the ravens flying overhead. The rider's hood
was pulled about his face to shield his eyes
from the blinding sun. His head was bent,
and he seemed to study a parchment roll he
held between his hands, winding it up with one
as he unwound it with the other, holding his
bridle-rein between his teeth, and swaying
loosely in his high saddle.
That is no monk," said the leader of the mis-
chief-makers. He was a sturdy-limbed, stout-
bodied, broad-shouldered lad of a dozen years,
with tangled, sunburnt hair, and a wide red
mouth that was smiling half the time. "See, he
wears ray-cloth under his hodden II cloak. 'T is
some poor clerk who seeketh orders at Cover-
ham priory, or service with Lord John Neville."
"That is a Bolton horse," said one.
"Then 't is no clerk; Sir Richard can write
himself. It must be some scurvy lawyer come
from York to hatch some new dishonor. Let
him have it when he wins[ the crooked elm.
Not yet, not yet!" he whispered, holding up a
warning hand. "Wait till I bid. Ye under-
riped-cloth. 11 Undyed-wool. f Reaches.


t







HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


threw Daw Miller half an arrow-flight a while
ago, and he made off with not a clod to his
stingy poll. Yare, now! Ready, one-two--
three!"
The hazel wands sung in the air, and the
hard clay balls went whistling and humming
down the hillside like angry hornets.
Three struck the horseman fairly upon the
side. One tore his hood from his head, and
another stung his horse in the flank. The rest
went hurtling into the underwoods beyond. The
startled horse plunged wildly, nearly unseating
his rider, and jerking the bridle-rein from be-
tween his teeth. He lost his stirrups and it
seemed as if he must be thrown. But, digging
his long spurs under the girths, he thrust the
parchment roll into the open pouch at his
girdle, caught the bridle, and reined the snort-
ing animal back to a foot-pace with an iron
hand, not so much as a look of surprise altering
his stern, pale face. He lifted his keen, dark
eyes swiftly to scan the hilltop; but there was
not so much to be seen as a sparrow in the
thorn. The moment he turned to the road
again, however, another volley of clay whizzed
about his ears. One heavy piece struck him
fairly in the forehead, half blinding his eyes.
He set his teeth, and the color fled from his
haughty lips; but he gave no more sign of dis-
composure than to spur his restive horse forward
to the sheltering beeches under the lee of the
hill.
"It is a clerk, a craven abbey lob!"* cried
one of the lads, rising from his hiding-place.
"Why, the coward could na even fetch a word!"
'Nay," answered the leader, with a shadow
on his face; "that was no coward riding there.
A coward would have yelped ten thousand
times. The fellow neither cried out, nor
growled, nor yelped for a saint. He held to his
way as if the wind had only whistled shrewdly
in his ears. That was a man. We fools have
hawked at an eagle. I wish we had na thrown
at him! He bore him so stout-heartedly I
would we had na clodded him at all!"
"Poh! jeered one; "thy knees are weak!
Of what art thou afeard ?"
Not of thy gibes, as thou knowest full well;
but, lads, that was a dirty trick upon a right
good fellow."


Good fellow ? Fie A gray old rat that I
might drub myself."
"Ay, Jehan, thy boast is just the height of
the hill, no more. Yon fellow's was a heart
stouter than thine ever will be the longest day
that thou livest."
"What-how? Were he but here, I 'd show
thee!" \
The words were scarcely out of his mouth
when there came a crash in the copse behind
them. They heard the hiss of a whip, and a
horse plunged through the tangled haws into
their very midst.
They looked-one look-and ran, like rab-
bits to their burrows, into the brush and down
the hill as fast as their legs could carry them.
One stood his ground.
His head spun round, and his eyes were
dazed. He looked up, but all he saw was the
blurred, black mass a horse and man against
the shining sky.
He was dizzy, and his heart grew sick as he
remembered Blind Watty, whose eyes were lost
from a blow of the whip of old Sir Hugh Mal-
voisin, and little Gib, the miller's son, whose
arm was never straight again after Rafe Nev-
ille's varlet beat him so. The blood crept
down out of his face as the dampness creeps
from a cottage wall after rain. He was breath-
ing very fast, but he did not move; and still
looked up with a deadly fear in his face that
was not cowardice.
Somewhere back in his wits he wondered
dumbly if his father would draw the honey that
afternoon, and if the blacksmith would give
the knife he had promised him to the dirty
lump who blew the bellows at the forge.
He drew a deep, long, bitter breath, and a
wonder crept into his heart that he was not
stricken down. He could feel his legs braced
wide apart, and his bare toes gripping the warm
sod. Then the dizziness cleared away, and he
began to see -two cold, dark eyes reading
his heart; gray, bristling brows, a high-arched
nose, a blue, smooth-shaven chin, and a thin,
pale mouth with stern, deep lines about it.
Up in the roots of the silvered hair a patch of
red clay stuck to a swollen lump. At sight
of this the boy's heart stood still.
The "fellow" they had clodded was Sir


* Dolt.


x896.]






HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


Richard Scroope, the lawyer lord of Bolton
Manor. The lad turned sick, but did not
flinch a hair. It is a strange English way, that,
of taking one's dose and making no to-do!
Sir Richard's garb was dull in tone, but rich
in stuff. His cloak and hood were fringed with
miniver,* although the day was warm.' His
ray-cloth surcoat was wine-color and blue.
The closely girdled gaberdine t beneath it was
of fine watchet-blue, t with a broad band of
shimmering cloth of gold. His strong white
hands were bare, but his legs were covered
with double-thonged cockers of russet cor-
dovan from ankle to mid-thigh. His
spurs were heavily gilded, and he
wore a short double-edged
Sheffield dagger. -" -l -
"Art thou one of -
those who did this unto
me ? he asked, in a
stern hard voice.
"Ay," replied the
boy huskily.
"Who set ye on to
do this thing?"
No one, sire."
"No lies to me,
knave! Who set yeon?"
"Ihavenalied." The
boy's voice quivered.
"Why did ye do it,
then? "
Theladmadenoreply. '
He was wondering if I
the rest had gotten away .'I
safe; wondering that he "' i
was still alive and if it
were not all a dream that
-the lord baron was asking "'MY FATHER HAS
him why.


Dost hear me, knave ? sai
"Yea, sire."
"Then why dost thou not an
For marvel that I may, sire,"
A queer look came into Sir
eyes at that, and he looked even
than before at the upturned,
honestly fearful, yet unafraid.
ye do this cowardly thing ? Sp
time is shorter than my temper
Mixed f


At the word cowardly" the lad flushed.
"For sport, sire," he replied.
"For sport!" cried Sir Richard sternly.
"This ? "- and as he spoke he pointed mean-
ingly to his swollen forehead.
"That was your end of the game, sire, not


r'
-a-.-


-i


\/ /



NA CLODDED THEE,' THE BOY REPLIED. 'THE FAULT IS MINE,
NOT HIS.'" (SEE PAGE 541.)


id Sir Richard. ours," said the boy, stoutly, and with a certain
sense of humor.
swer? The dark eyes gleamed queerly again. "Ye
replied the boy. knew not who I was, perchance ?"
Richard's stern Not then, sire; but now right well, my lord
more shrewdly baron."
sunburnt face, "If thou hadst known me thou wouldst
SThen why did never have thrown."
eak, knave; my Ay, but I would, with a right good will,"
with thee!" answered the boy, doggedly; "but I would not
ur. t Coat. t Sky-blue. Boots.


540


[MAY,


ILI;~d


.-,iBd:







HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


now for a gold rose-noble! "* As he spoke he
threw back his head.
How now ? said the baron, sharply.
"Why riot? "
"Because ye bore yourself as a right lord
baron should!" cried the boy, looking up
frankly, though choking a little as he spoke.
A grim smile twitched at the corners of the
baron's iron mouth on that blunt reply, and a
sparkle of satisfaction lighted his haughty eyes.
Little used to such fair, plain speech from either
young or old, the boy's pluck struck his fancy.
"What is thy name? he asked.
"Walter, sire."
Doubtless; but whose son art thou? "
The boy looked up with a glance of sharp
distrust, and did not reply. Sir Richard's
mouth set harshly again.
"Answer me, thou froward rogue! What
is thy father's name ?"
The boy's lips whitened, but he did not
speak.
It were better for thee to answer me,"
warned the knight, gathering his bridle as he
spoke.
The boy's heart sank, and his face grew pale.
My father has na clodded thee," he replied,
huskily. "The fault is mine, not his."
Sir Richard's eyes were full of queer looks
that day, but never more than then. Thou
stubborn knave! quoth he, shortly. Thy fa-
ther fathered thee-that is enough. Here,
stand thou at my stirrup-leather."
The boy obeyed, trembling.
Lay hold," said he. The boy laid hold
upon the leather.
Now follow where I ride, upon thy life."
And so they fared to Bolton Castle.

The morning wind blew cool from off the
moors, lazily flapping the heavy banner upon its
tall ash stave above the keep. A trumpet blared
upon the walls, and at the same instant, with a
creak and a rattle, the draw sunk slowly at the
western gate. A thin group of tenants from
outlying holdings of the manor, with petty
wrongs to be righted, pressed forward through
the court to the doors of the castle hall, where
they were stopped by men-at-arms with staves,
to await the pleasure of the lord baron. In-


side, near the door, at a heavy oak table, sat
the under-clerk, with tally-roll, goosequills,
and inkhorn, to take the names of those con-
cerned in matters there, and summon each in
turn. At the further end of the long hall, upon
a raised place, with his chief clerk near him at
a table-bench with manuscripts and seals, the
baron sat in a tall-backed oak chair, wrapped in
a cloak of dark serge over an undercoat of
blue and gold. Beside him stood his steward
with his wand, while waiting near at hand was
the sturdy turnkey.
You have the young knave safe at hand ? "
asked the baron.
Yea, sire; a sullen dog. He hath not spoken
once since he was put in keep, though I with-
held his bread and meat therefore "
"And hath he had nothing to eat, then? "
Not a bite, sire, since yesteroon; the stub-
born oaf! "
"Then thou shalt forfeit five silver pence,"
said Sir Richard, sternly. "I have told thee
I will have naught but justice here. And, Mais-
ter Du Feu, bear this in mind henceforth, that
thou art but gaoler and not judge of Bolton
Manor; and that in thus overstepping thy place
thou dost ill service."
The steward bit his lip in silence.
Bring me in this young knave," said the
baron.
He was speedily brought, and stood there in
silence, with his head downcast, and his hands
clenched one within the other behind him.
The baron leaned forward upon the arms of
his chair, his dark eyes keenly reading the boy.
"Who were they with thee when this thing
was done ? he asked abruptly.
The boy started, clenched his hands a little
tighter, but made no answer.
Find thy tongue, thou whelp growled the
steward, in an undertone. The boy looked up.
His face was very pale, partly from hunger.
"I was their leader, sire," he said, and with
that stopped.
"I did not ask who led them, knave, but
who the rascals were."
I shall na tell," faltered the lad. I led
them."
"Then all the blame is to fall upon thy
head, is it ? demanded the baron, sharply.


*An old English coin.







HIS FATHER


I do na ken," was the only response. "I
led them on."
"Why didst thou not lead them off, then,
when they ran? asked Sir Richard, grimly.
The boy flushed faintly, but said nothing.
"Wert thou not afraid ?"
Yea, sire."


R S PRICE. [MAY,

Fool! muttered the steward. Dost want
yon jailer to find thy tongue? "
"I shall na tell," was the lad's only reply,
though his lip trembled.
The baron leaned back in his chair, eying the
boy curiously and not unkindly, with his chin
sunken in his breast, his closed right hand upon


-/ -


"HE STOOD THERE IN SILENCE, WITH HIS HEAD DOWNCAST, AND HIS HANDS CLENCHED BEHIND HIM."


"Then if afraid why didst thou not run ?"
The boy looked up, and shook the hair out
of his eyes. It is na cowardly to be afeard."
But it is to run. Is that it ? "
The lad hung his head.
Come," again demanded the baron, "who
were with thee when ye did this foul trick ? "
I shall na tell," replied the boy, in an al-
most inaudible tone.


his mouth, and with one finger outstretched
lying along his cheek. Then he beckoned to
the steward. Art certain of what thou toldest
me last evening ? he asked in a low tone.
"As certain, my lord baron, as I am that
day is not night."
"In truth," said Sir Richard, studying the
boy, there doth seem some resemblance."
"They are as like as dog and whelp, sire.






HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


There is no doubt; the man Faulconer is the
S father of this young knave, and one is just as
Stubborn as the other."
Yet he doth deny the boy ?"
S "Yea, sire; he voweth he hath never seen
Sthe knave in all his life before. He feareth, my
Slord baron, that ye will visit his misdoing upon
Shis son's head. They love their kind, these
common dogs."
"'T is no. bad trait-in common dogs!"
muttered the baron, bitterly. I would it were
less common, and more frequent." He looked
half wistfully about the lonely hall. Doth the
knave know that his father is taken ?"
No, sire."
For a moment the baron mused in silence,
and then spoke up bluntly: Knave, what is
thy father's name ? "
The boy caught his breath with an audible
gasp, but, as before, made no reply, only twining
his fingers more tightly together.
"Speak, thou stubborn lout!" cried the stew-
ard, shaking him roughly by the shoulder.
"Maister Du Feu," said the baron, shortly,
"leave be until I ask thy help. Come, knave,
thy father's name. I 've asked thee over often."
But it was I who threw the clods," pro-
tested the boy, with a sob in his voice.
"That I know full well," replied the baron.
"What I ask is what I asked yesterday; and I
will be answered now. Who is thy father ? "
"Sire," cried the boy, suddenly straightening
up, and turning very pale, "what hath my fa-
ther to do with this matter? He knew naught
of it, and had no hand in it. It was I threw
the clods, and I will stand to it."
Thou hast not answered what I asked,"
said the baron, menacingly.
"I will na tell thee who my father is," was
all the boy replied.
The baron's mouth was very grim. "We
shall see," said he. "Bring in the man."
They brought him in. His arms were tightly
bound, and his feet were shackled, but for all
that his eyes flashed wrathfully, and he looked
from side to side like a caged wolf seeking a
chance of escape. But when he saw the boy
standing there, he turned suddenly pale, and
groaned aloud.
The boy had followed the steward with a


wild stare; but when the men-at-arms came in,
he put his hands before his face, and leaned
against the wall.
Sir Richard turned in his high chair, and
looked from one to the other under his knitted
brows. Except in size, the two were as like
each other as two peas out of a pod-stout-
legged, broad-shouldered, strong-necked, and
fair of hair.
"Stand forth, thou," commanded the baron,
sternly. They pushed Faulconer forward, and
the baron looked bitterly upon him. Faulco-
ner's face was pale, but his eyes were fearless,
and his teeth were set with bull-dog obstinacy.
"What are the charges against this man ? "
My lord baron," said the steward, sourly,
"the fellow hath thrice refused his rentals on
the false ground that he hath his holding of
Coverham Abbey. He hath insolently af-
fronted your reeve; hath stricken Adam Fletcher,
the London yeoman, to the earth; and, further-
more, my lord baron, he hath foully slandered
and belied yourself, sire, saying in so many words
- I crave your pardon for saying them at all-
that you have your price like a chapman's
wares in the streets of York, and have been
bought at your own price. To this, my lord
baron, Adam Fletcher, Long Hugh, Jehan Att-
woode, and Roger Clough are witness."
The baron straightened icily in his chair, and
turned upon Faulconer. Dost know," said
he, "that for these thine offenses against my
servants and myself I may declare thee at-
tainted, make of thee a wolf's-head, an outlaw,
and doom thee to death ? "
A sharp cry was heard. On hearing the bar-
on's words, the boy, who had been listening as
one astounded, sprang to his father's side, and
threw his arms about him, sobbing outright,
and crying, Daddy, daddy, daddy! as if his
heart would break.
Watty, my heart's root, my boy! choked
the father, trying vainly to touch the lad with
his pinioned hands, Stand away, stand away "
And with thee," continued the baron, "I
may condemn and outlaw thine offspring and
thy kin unto the last and least of thy blood."
"Stand off, Watty; stand away!" groaned
Faulconer. "They shall na doom thee for my
doing."







HIS FATHER'S PRICE.


And I thought they took thee, daddy, for
the thing I did to him," sobbed the boy.
Nay; stand away! "
I will na leave thee, daddy. Thou art all
I have."
"Thou shalt leave me, Watty,-my son, my
son, I tell thee to stand away 1" choked Faul-
coner, a tear trickling down his drawn face.
Nay, stand ye up together," cried the
baron, grimly, with a strange look in his eye;
" for I know ye now for father and son beyond
all shadow of a doubt; and. as father and son,
for your offenses, I shall do unto ye as I will."
Oh, my boy, my boy! cried Faulconer,
now for the first time totally unnerved.
Out of the measure of your offenses will I
mete judgment upon you," said the baron,
slowly, while the great hall grew suddenly still.
In the matter of rental, however, it pleaseth
me to go no further. Since Sir John Neville
hath acknowledged my title clear to the land
in question, I shall vacate my holding therein
to the abbey, for the sake of peace, and let thy
dues, though fairly owed to me, stand quit
through payment to the abbey."
The clerk made note of the decision.
For thine affront unto my master-steward
thou shalt be amerced* five silver pence," (the
steward smiled), "but as five pence doth just off-
set the five held forfeit from his wage, there need
be neither give nor take," (the steward's face
fell), "while as for Adam Fletcher's broken head,
a stoup t of ale each day a week will make it
whole again. But as to the rest, it is another
matter," said the baron, sternly; "a matter
which doth near concern mine honor and my
house. And as thou hast judged me and mine,
so now will I judge thee and thine."
"But he is my only son, my lord!" cried
Faulconer, beseechingly, falling upon his knees.
"Hold thou thy peace!" commanded the
baron, stretching out his hand imperatively.
In this court I am judge, justice, and advo-
cate. Thou didst judge me unheard, and even
so will I judge thee. And I tell thee thou shalt
never lay thine hand to stilt $ of plow or helve
of ax again, n'or thrust thy sickle through the
standing barley in the fields. Nay, nor turn
thy cattle loose on Lammasland, nor drive thy
SFined. t Flagon.


swine to pannage in the woods. Thou hast
called me a man with a price, and hast said that
I am bought and sold; and for this thing I
hold thy life within my hand, to do with as I
choose. And I tell thee that thy pot hath
called my kettle black, and smutted its own
face; for thou art bought this day thyself, like
a chapman's wares in the streets of York, and
art become a man with a price, even as thou
hast said I am."
A stir ran through the hall, a moving of feet,
and a drawing of breaths.
"Thy son and thyself have this day forfeited
your lives to me."
Walter Faulconer hid his face upon his fa-
ther's breast, and held him in his arms.
"Thy son's life will I give thee for thyself,
to be my man henceforth, as strong and stanch
for me and mine as thou hast been against me,
and to think as honestly of me as I have thought
of thee."
Faulconer caught his breath like a swimmer
coming up from under water.
And thine own life will I give thee for thy
son's sake, for his stoutness of heart, his honest
love of thee, and his manliness withal, that I
may have him in my household and by my
side, to stand for me as faithfully as he hath
stood for thee, to ward my head and guard
my name as he hath this day warded thy name
and guarded the heads of those who left him to
be their scapegoat."
Oh, my lord baron, my noble lord baron! "
cried Faulconer, tears running down his cheeks.
Nay," spoke up the baron, grimly. Keep
thy nobles' for men who have no price; they
illy fit us two. And stand ye up together, Wal-
ter Faulconer, father and son. Loose him,"
he said. "My man art thou, and thou my
knave, from this day forth forever. Ye shall
wear the blue and gold, and bear the badge of
the house of Scroope, and ye shall stand in
mine own hall; for England hath a need of
just such honest stubbornness-and so have I."
So the two Faulconers served Sir Richard
Scroope to the end of his days right manfully,
and his house afterward; and young Walter
named his first son Richard after him.
Which is the end of the story.
f Handle. Pasturage.





















IT '

--4 Pr ^ a

j -


I,h


A.. f~- i~~1`


SPRING.

A DRAWING FROM NATURE, BY MISS M. A. COWLES.


VOL. XXIII.-69.















THE PORCUPINE.

By JOHN BURROUGHS.


AMONG our
..' wild animals
there are three
that are slow-mov-
ing, dull-witted, and
almost fearless- the
skunk, the possum, and
THE PORCUPINE. the porcupine. The two
latter seem to be increasing in most parts of the
country. The possum is becoming quite com-
mon in the valley of the Hudson, and the por-
cupine is frequently met with in parts of the
country where it was rarely or never seen forty
years ago.
When the boys in late fall now go cooning
where I used to go cooning in my youth, the
dogs frequently run on a porcupine or drive
him up a tree, and thus the sport is interrupted.
Sometimes the dog comes to them with his
mouth stuck full of quills, and is then compelled
to submit to the painful operation of having
them withdrawn.
A sportsman relates that he once came upon
a dead porcupine and a dead bald eagle lying
upon the ground within a few yards of each
other. The eagle had partly torn the porcupine
to pieces, but in attacking it with its beak it
had driven numerous spines of the animal into
its throat, and from their effect had apparently
died as soon as its victim.
The quill of a porcupine is like a bad habit:
if it once gets hold it constantly works deeper
and deeper, though the quill has no power of
motion in itself; it is the live, active flesh that
draws it in by means of the barbed point. One
day my boy and I encountered a porcupine on
the top of one of the Catskills, and we had a
little circus with him; we wanted to wake him
up and make him show a little excitement if


possible. Without violence or injury to him we
succeeded to tlih e:..t'-nt of making his eyes
fairly stand out foi hi, i c ad, but quicken his
motion he would not'-- i:l:iob-ibly would d not.
What astonish-l.. and al. armed l'm seemed to
be that his quill; h.id no- tiect upon his ene-
mies; they lauglhled ait h-- weapons. He stuck
his head under a rock and left his back and
tail exposed. This is the i:,;rcupine'. favorite
position of defense. "Now come if you dare,"
he seems to say. Touch his tail, and like a
trap it springs up and strikes your hand full
of little quills. The tail is the active wea-
pon of defense; with this the animal strikes. It
is the outpost that delivers its fire before the
citadel is reached. It is doubtless this fact that
has given rise to the popular notion that the
porcupine can shoot its quills, which of course
it cannot do.
With a rotten stick we sprang the ani-
mal's tail again and again, till its supply of
quills began to run low, and the creature grew
uneasy. "What does this mean ?" he seemed
to say, his excitement rising. His shield upon
his back, too, we trifled with, and when we
finally drew him forth with a forked stick,
his eyes were ready to burst from his head.
Then we laughed in his face and went our way.
Before we had reached our camp I was sud-
denly seized with a strange, acute pain in one
of my feet. It seemed as if a large nerve was
being roughly sawed in two. I could not take
another step. Sitting down and removing my
shoe and stocking, I searched for the cause of the
paralyzing pain. The foot was free from mark
or injury, but what is this little thorn or fang of
thistle doing on the ankle ? I pulled it out and
found it to be one of the lesser quills of the por-
cupine. By some means, during our circus,"






THE PORCUPINE.


the quill had dropped inside my stocking, the
thing had took," and the porcupine had his
Revenge for all the indignities we had put upon
him. I was well punished. The nerve which
the quill struck had unpleasant memories of it
for many months afterward.
When you come suddenly upon the porcu-
pine in his native haunts he draws his head
back and down, puts up his shield, trails his
broad tail, and waddles slowly away. His
shield is the sheaf of larger quills upon his
back, which he opens and spreads out in a cir-
cular form so that the whole body is quite hid-
den beneath it.
I once passed a summer night alone upon the
Highest peak of the Catskills, Slide Mountain. I
soon found there were numerous porcupines that
desired to keep me company. The news of my
arrival in the afternoon soon spread among them.
They probably had scented me. After resting
awhile I set out to look up the spring, and met
a porcupine on his way toward my camp. He
turned out in the grass, and then, as I paused,
came back into the path and passed directly
over my feet. He evidently felt that he had as
good a right to the road as I had; he had trav-
eled it many times before me. When I charged
upon him with a stick in my hand he slowly
climbed a small balsam fir. I soon found the
place of the spring, and, having dredged it and
cleaned it, I sat down upon a rock and waited
for the water to slowly seep in. Presently I
heard something in the near bushes, and in a
moment a large porcupine came into view. I
thought that he, too, was looking for water, but
no, he was evidently on his way to my camp.
He, too, had heard the latest rumor on the
mountain-top. It was highly amusing to watch
his movements. He came teetering along in
the most aimless, idiotic way. Now he drifted
off a little to the right, then a little to the left;
Shis blunt nose seemed vaguely to be feeling the
air; he fumbled over the ground, tossed about
by loose boulders and little hillocks; his eyes
wandered stupidly about; I was in plain view
within four or five yards of him, but he heeded
me not. Then he turned back a few paces, but
some slight obstacle in his way caused him to
change his mind. One thought of a sleep-
walker; uncertainty was stamped upon every ges-


ture and movement; yet he was really drifting
towards camp. After a while he struck the
well-defined trail, and his gray, shapeless body
slowly disappeared up the hill. In five or six
minutes I overtook him shuffling along within
sight of the big rock upon which rested my blan-
ket and lunch. As I came up to him he de-
pressed his tail, put up his shield, and slowly
pushed off into the wild grass. While I was at
lunch I heard a sound, and there he was, looking
up at me from the path a few feet away.
"An uninvited guest," I said; "but come on."
He hesitated, and then turned aside into the
bracken; he would wait till I had finished and
had gone to sleep, or had moved off
How much less wit have such animals -
animals like the porcupine, possum, skunk,
turtle--that nature has armed against all foes,
than the animals that have no such ready-made
defenses, and are preyed upon by a multitude
of enemies. The price paid for being shielded
against all danger, for never feeling fear or
anxiety, is stupidity. If the porcupine were as
vulnerable to its enemies as, say, the woodchuck,
it would probably soon come to be as alert
and swift of foot as that marmot.
For an hour or more, that afternoon on the
mountain top, my attention was attracted by a
peculiar continuous sound that seemed to come
from far away to the east. I queried with my-
self, Is it the sound of some workman in a
distant valley hidden by the mountains, or is
its source nearer by me on the mountain side? "
I could not determine. It was not a ham-
mering or a grating or the filing of a saw,
though it suggested such sounds. It had a
vague, distant, ventriloquial character. In the
solitude of the mountain top there was some-
thing welcome and pleasing in it. Finally I
set out to try to solve the mystery. I had not
gone fifty yards from camp when I knew I was
near the source of the sound. Presently I saw
a porcupine on a log, and as I approached the
sound ceased, and the animal moved away.
A curious kind of chant he made, or note of
wonder and surprise at my presence on the
mountain -or was he calling together the clan
for a midnight raid upon my camp ?
I made my bed that night of ferns and bal-
sam boughs under an overhanging rock, where


547






THE PORCUPINE.


the storm that swept across the mountain just
after dark could not reach me. I lay down,
rolled in my blankets, with a long staff by my
side, in anticipation of visits from the porcu-
pines. In the middle of the night I was awak-
ened, and, looking out of my den, saw a por-
cupine outlined against the starlit sky. I made
a thrust at him with my staff, when, with. a
grunt or grumble, he disappeared. A little
later I was awakened again by the same ani-
mal, or another, and repelled him as before.
At intervals during the rest of the night they
visited me in this way; my sleep was by short
stages from one porcupine to another. These
animals are great gnawers. They seem to be


specially fond of gnawing any tool or object
that has been touched or used by human hands.
They would probably have gnawed my shoes
or lunch basket or staff had I lain still. A set-
tler at the foot of the mountain told me they
used to prove very annoying to him by getting
into his cellar or wood-shed at night, and in-
dulging their ruling passion by chewing upon
his tool-handles or pails or harness. "Kick
one of them outdoors," he said, and in half
an hour he is back again."
In winter they usually live in trees, gnawing
the bark and feeding upon the inner layer. I
have seen large hemlocks quite denuded and
killed in this way.


e. ,'., -
A"
4 *1


WINTER-TIME has fled away,
Spring has had her gentle sway,
Summer surely must be near
When the skipping-ropes appear;
With a skip, skip,
And a trip, trip,
As thus we rise and fall;
In yard and street
The little feet
Are coming to the call!


Oh, so many tricks to do
That our mothers also knew!-
"In the Front Door," "Baking Bread,"
"Chase the Fox," and "Needle Thread."
With a skip, skip,
And a trip, trip,-
For so the leader saith -
With a hop, jump,
And a thump, thump,
Until you 're out of breath.


548


[MAY,






THE SONG OF THE SKIPPING-ROPE.


Hear the counting, sure and slow;
To a hundred they must go.
Not a hand or arm should swerve,
While the rope describes its curve;
With a skip, skip,
And a trip, trip,
Until the task is done;
With cheeks so red,
And ruffled head,
Bravo, my little one!








---------- -

'-S
)' ~7 '










^^ cg''


Boys may leap and vault so high,
But none was ever known to try
To master this soft, little spring
That is so intricate a thing!
With a skip, skip,
And a trip, trip.
Oh, may I always hear
That pit-pat-pit
That seems to fit
This blossom-time of year!


4-?~


549













THE PRIZE CUP.


BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE.


[Begun in the November number. ]

CHAPTER XXIX.

A MERRY PORCH PARTY.

IN a moment more the bicycles were lying on
the turf, and the bicyclers were mounting the
porch steps.
"Let them in, Ida," Tracy hurriedly whis-
pered. I can't look them in the face."
"You must," said Ida, escaping from the
room; I can't be seen in this house rig."
You may as well meet it, Tracy," said his
mother.
So, putting on a resolute look, Tracy went
to the front door.
Come in," he said, and tell us what luck
you 've had."
"We can tell you here," Fred Melverton
replied, in radiant good humor.
We 've had great luck, thanks to you," said
Canton Quimby.
We 've found the cup," Fred added,- they
were both so full of the good news that they
told it together,- and we 've got the thief in
jail."
You can't you don't mean stammered
Tracy, astounded.
"We have n't got the cup in hand," said
Canton Quimby; "but we have located it -
we know just where it is; and, as Melf says,
we 've got one of the thieves in the lock-up.
We shall have another there in an hour or two,
if I can persuade Melf to do his duty."
Tracy stared, and demanded:
How many are there, according to your
reckoning ? "
Two, anyway," Fred answered positively.
"Oscar Ordway had it in his possession; but it
seems Gid Ketterell is an accessory,- probably
after the fact,- and that he expects to share


the proceeds of the plunder. I have n't sworn
out a warrant for him yet; but I left word with
his mother, just now, that if he wants to wash
his hands of a dangerous piece of business, he 'd
better lose no time in coming to see me. Then
she learned for the first time that I discharged
him yesterday."
"And she was n't so much pleased as if she
had had a fortune of a million dollars left her,"
said Canton Quimby, significantly. He '11
wish himself in jail already when he falls into
her clutches."
Tracy did not appear half so much elated as
his friends thought he had reason to be.
I 'm afraid I don't understand there 's
a big mistake! he murmured.
It 's a mistake of the right sort a mistake
for the rogue that 's got caught," Fred Melver-
ton replied, with unshaken gaiety.
He threw himself on a porch chair, while
his friend sat upon the rail; and between them
they gave an amusing account of their adven-
ture, to which Tracy listened in mute amaze-
ment.
"We did n't find Judge Carter at home,"
Fred concluded, "so the Chief just took Osk to
the cells for safe-keeping. But we did unearth
a mason; and he is to go with us at one o'clock
to break a hole in the base of the chimney.
I 'm sorry for Osk, but then "
He must n't make too free with other peo-
ple's prize cups, you know," struck in Canton
Quimby. "Boys take a good many liberties;
but there is a limit: we draw the line at silver-
ware, Melf and I- especially silver won in a
race by hard rowing. Is n't that the point,
Melf? "
"It 's all too good! exclaimed Tracy, rous-
ing from a sort of dream. "It ought to be
true. But I don't see through it unless -
do you miss anything else out of your house ? "






THE PRIZE CUP.


"Not yet -I think I told you; though of
course I don't know how many things may
have been stolen," Fred replied, puzzled in his
turn. "Why?"
There must be something; for-look here."
Tracy turned to his mother, who was just
then coming out of the house, with a counte-
nance all smiles, bearing Midget in her arms,
and holding up the prize cup in her hand.
Melverton hardly paused to greet Mrs. Lisle
as he sprang to his feet. What's that ? he
exclaimed.
If it is n't your lost cup, then I don't know
what it is," she replied, holding it out to him.
"It is that-or it is magic!" he cried,
in extreme surprise, taking it in his hand.
"Where did it come from ? Where has it been ?
Oh, Quimby," turning to his friend, "here's
the game we've been chasing down Gran'sir
i Pudgwick's chimney! "
I don't catch on!" Canton Quimby replied.
It must be an intoxicating cup, that makes
everybody see double. Is there any answer to
this enig'-enigma ? completing the word out
of respect to Mrs. Lisle's presence.
I beg your pardon! said Fred, suddenly
remembering that he had not presented his
friend, which he proceeded to do, with awkward
abruptness. "I believe I 've lost my wits.
What is all this ? observing the bits of wilted
grass that half filled the cup.
I wish Laurie could speak and explain it,"
Mrs. Lisle replied, while Midget, knowing very
well what the conversation was about, shyly
hid his face in her neck. "For, I 'm sorry to
say, he is the rogue! "
And our other two ? cried Melverton.
"Seems to be a pretty good day for rogues,"
said Canton Quimby.
I don't know about the others," said Mrs.
Lisle. Tracy, tell them about Midget."
She herself rarely called the child by that
name--never, indeed, except when he had
shown himself extraordinarily mischievous.
And Tracy told. Melverton burst into shouts
of laughter, while Canton Quimby shook with
more quietly expressed convulsions.
"A bird's nest! said Fred. Oh, you dear,
queer little Midget! You must give me a kiss
for that! "


He held out his arms. Midget, perceiving
the pleasant turn the affair was taking, leaped
into them, with silent joyous laughter. Then,
after a good hugging, he pointed to the cup,
now in Tracy's hands, and repeated the words
he had that morning learned-words that had
made all who heard them so happy, and which
he seemed to know would please his friend Fred
no less :
Cup -cup Come cup !"
As this part of the morning's experiences
had been omitted from Tracy's story, Fred was
filled anew with wonder and admiration. He
danced about with the child, repeating with
him the marvelous syllables, to Midget's great
satisfaction as he watched the young man's lips
and felt his throat, while Quimby looked on
with keen enjoyment of the scene.
In the midst of which jubilation Ida ap-
peared, lovely as a rose, and almost as red,
having given a graceful twist to her hair and
thrown a scarf about her neck; and the young
minister followed, and there were introductions
and congratulations, until a passer-by must have
remarked that there was a livelier porch party
at the old parsonage than it had ever known
before, in the fifty years of its sober existence.

CHAPTER XXX.

GID KETTERELL CONFESSES.

THIS idea may have occurred to a strong-
armed and stern-featured woman who was just
then crossing the ravine from the Melverton
place and ascending the slope in the direction
of the merry voices. Leading by the coat-col-
lar a reluctant youth who was much inclined
to lag a step or two in the rear, she made her
appearance below the house just as Fred was
saying:
But, Canton, we forget we have a fellow
locked up for stealing the cup that was never
stolen! "
No matter," Quimby replied. He has
stolen something else and very likely out of
your house -if we can only find what it is."
Here 's somebody that perhaps can tell
you," said Tracy, as Mrs. Ketterell dragged
forward her unwilling son into full view.






THE PRIZE CUP.


There was a flush on the washerwoman's
hard features and a green fire in her eyes as
she stationed herself at the foot of the porch
steps, still holding Gideon by his coat-collar.
Her tawny mane, combed straight back over
her head and down her neck, was badly frizzed
and rumpled, and helped to give her features
a wild, ferocious aspect.
Mr. Frederick," she began, "if you '11 par-
don the intrusion, I 've brought my boy here to
make a clean breast of the bad job you spoke
of; and if he lives, and I live, he 's going to tell


I give him a few extrys on account, so I sha'n't
be running too much in his debt."
Gideon is getting to be a big boy for dis-
cipline of that sort," Fred suggested.
So indeed he is," said the mother; "but he
ain't so big yet but what I can handle him
with a spare finger or two kept in reserve for
emergencies; and he hain't forgot the small
taste of the wrong end of the whip he received
wunst when he attempted to handle me. He
was persuaded then to take his medicine in reg-
ular fashion, and be decent about it. Think


"'THE THING IN THE POCKET WAS THIS,' SAID FRED, HOLDING IT UP." (SEE PAGE 558.)


you the whole truth before ever he goes back
to the home he has disgraced."
"If that is so began Melverton; then,
turning to Mrs. Lisle and her daughter, he said
apologetically, "I am afraid we are going to
have a scene."
"It is most certainly so," said the washer-
woman, her red knuckles turning white with
the new grip she gave the boy's collar. "I
don't whale him very often, but when I do I
make up for neglected duties in that particular.
I not only settle old scores with interest, but


of a younker like him raising his hand against
his own mother, ladies and gentlemen! But
though, as I said, he done it wunst, he never
done it twicet, the scapegrace! Will you tell
the truth to your friend and benefactor, now ?"
she demanded, giving the said scapegrace a
sharp wrench by the collar. "Say' I will,' if
you know what 's hullsome for your soul and
body!"
"I will," said Gideon, promptly, with a
shake in his voice not caused altogether by the
twist his mother gave him. At the same time


[MAY,






THE PRIZE CUP.


he presented so lugubrious a countenance that
Tracy felt immensely relieved as to any triumph
his enemy was to gain over him, whatever the
outcome of the situation.
"I am glad of that," said Fred Melverton;
"for some things need very much to be ex-
plained. But" turning again to the ladies
--"this is hardly the place in which to con-
duct our inquiries."
"Indeed, I 've sense enough to know that;
and I 'm begging Mrs. Lisle to excuse what
may seem to be very ill manners. I went first
to your place, Mr. Frederick; then, hearing your
voice, I came directly here, in order to lose
no time in bringing my boy to terms whilst a
healthy terror was on him."
"That was right, Mrs. Ketterell," said Mrs.
Lisle, approvingly. "Let him say right here
what is to be said."
S"And let it be the barefooted facts this
time," said Canton Quimby.
Melverton, standing with his hands behind
him, looking down over the porch rail at mother
and son, addressed Gideon.
"You acknowledge that what you told me
yesterday was not the truth ? "
"Answer! Mrs. Ketterell commanded him,
as he hesitated. Did you tell him whoppers ?"
I s'pose I did," mumbled Gideon.
"You know about the cider ? Fred queried.
"Yes," Gid answered; "but I did n't drink
it. Osk Ordway made me go with him to the
cellar, and he drinked the most of it."
And did you find cider in the cellar of your
friend and benefactor, and treat that miserable
Osk Or'dway with it ? cried the irate mother.
Lucky for your skin and scalp, I did n't know
that before! "
Quitting her hold on his collar, she seized
'his ear, and gave it such a tweak as elicited
from him a sharp yelp.
If you please, Mrs. Ketterell," said Fred,
with difficulty maintaining his gravity, while
everybody else laughed, except the two most
concerned, who saw no fun in the little comedy
they were enacting. "So, Gideon, you let
Oscar into the house, did you ?"
The boy was dumb again.
Did you, or did you not ? said his mother,
giving the ear another twist, with much the
SVOL. XXIII.-70.


same effect as if it had been a spigot by which
she turned on his squeals.
"I did I did yelled Gideon.
"If you please, Mrs. Ketterell!" Fred re-
peated, deprecatingly. "And the prize cup-
you know something about that ? "
"Will you speak, sir ?" cried his mother.
She had taken her hand away; but the im-
pulse to give the spigot another turn was so
evident in her that Gideon dodged, and blurted
out:
"I opened the drawer, and showed it to
him: he made me do it. But I put it back,
and that 's the last I saw of it hope to die! "
he vowed.
"And you don't know what became of it ? "
"Sure 's I live I thought Osk might have
come that night and taken it, but he swears he
did n't, and he wants to make me think it
has n't been stole at all."
"Do you believe him?" Melveiton de-
manded.
"Some o' the time I think I do, and then
again I guess I don't; but as for knowing a
thing about it, I 'm as innocent as,--as inno-
cent as that child! Arid Gideon, having found
what he deemed a strong illustration, flung his
elbow out toward Midget playing on the walk.
Fred repressed a smile, and said:
Then what has Oscar kept hidden in the
stovepipe in his gran'sir's shop ?- the thing he
has been so secret about, which you are to
share the proceeds of, when it is sold ?"
"I don't know of- any -"
Gid had got so far in his stammered denial,
when his mother interrupted him. The green
fire was flaming up in her eyes as she said:
Please, Mr. Frederick, may I take him by
the flap of his ear again ? It's the best way I
know to wring a drop or two of the truth out
of him," the expert in wringing added grimly.
Fred put her off with a wave of his hand.
"Gideon," he said, "you know very well
that Oscar has carried home plunder of some
kind, and hidden it in the stove-funnel; but
perhaps you are not aware that he has landed
in jail in consequence. Was it anything taken
out of our house? I am waiting for you to
clear yourself of complicity in that business."
"Will you ? said his mother.


x896.]






THE PRIZE CUP.


I will! Gideon almost shouted, dodging
her uplifted hand again. "It 's nothing he
took out of your house, or out of anybody's
house. But he said he would kill me if I told."
Tell, and be killed, then," said his mother.
' You certainly will be killed if you don't."
And Gideon told.
It 's the phoebes' nest."
"The phoebes' nest?" exclaimed Melverton.
" He took that ?"
Yes, the very day I showed him the cup.
I blamed him for it, and told him he would get
prosecuted, and scared him so he promised to
put it back on the stones, under the bridge. But
he just hid it in the bushes, and went back for
it in the evening, and carried it home, and got
Wint Allston to come and see it, and offer him
half a dollar for it. Wint has a permit for tak-
ing nests and birds, and he is making a collec-
tion. Then Osk tried to sell it for more-to
Tom Hatch. I was to have half he got for it,
'cause I knew of his taking it, and he had got
me turned off from my place."
Is all that satisfactory ?" Mrs. Ketterell in-
quired. For if there 's more to come out of
him, we 're bound to fetch it."
It is tolerably satisfactory, as far as it goes,"
Fred replied. "But we have n't got at the
bottom facts yet. Eh, Quimby ?"
"That Ordway rapscallion," remarked the
Yale junior, "is an artesian well of decep-
tion, and we have n't begun to fathom him.
'T was n't a mere bird's nest he was so ex-
cited about. I believe now he was laughing
in his sleeve all the time at having led us on
a false trail."
"The trouble will be to get on the right
one," Fred answered. "He was a pretty fel-
low for you to let into the house! "--turning
sharply on Gideon. "Then for you to leave
a window unfastened! And that drawer-it
does n't seem now as if that could have been
locked."
I 've been thinking about that," said Gid-
eon; and I ain't dead sure but what I may
have put the key back where I found it, with-
out locking the drawer. I remember Osk took
it out of the lock and handed it to me, at the
last minute. And I may have left that window
unclasped. I was so excited by Osk Ordway's


being in the house, and getting the cider, and I
was in such a hurry to have him out, I got all
mixed up, and did n't know what I did do, or
what I did n't do."
And was your beautiful prize cup took in
consequence of his neglect ? the indignant
washerwoman demanded.
"By his own account, it was through his
fault that it was lost," Fred replied. "But I
am glad to say he was not concerned in tak-
ing it."
But he is responsible," cried the mother,
while her impatient hand started for Gid's
ear, but stopped at his coat-collar. And let
me say to you, Mr. Frederick, if hard work
will pay you for your loss, he shall work it out,
if I have to stand over him with a whip, all the
rest of the summer."
It is something money could n't pay for,"
said Fred.
"Hear that now, will you?" Mrs. Ketterell
exclaimed.
"I 'm so sorry! whined the contrite
Gideon.
There '11 be no need of your spending the
summer in the way you propose," Fred smil-
ingly assured the mother. The cup has been
found."
At the same time Mrs. Lisle held the goblet
up to the light, and Midget, who had been play-
ing about the porch, but observing slyly all that
was going on, took up his joyous cry:
Cup cup Come cup "

CHAPTER XXXI.
OSK IN COURT.
ASTONISHMENT at this double revelation
served to modify the washerwoman's wrath.
She prepared to depart.
"And do you want my boy to take care of
your place any more ? she asked.
I rather think you had better find some
other sphere of usefulness for him," Melverton
replied, to Tracy's very great satisfaction. I
may want one thing of him, however,- to ap-
pear as a witness in the matter of the nest rob-
bery, before Judge Carter, this afternoon."
You shall have him! said Mrs. Ketterell,
with grim resolution, as she gave a final clutch


[MAY,







1896.] I r

at the lapel of her son's coat, and led him
away.
"I 'm wondering," remarked Fred Melver-
ton, at Mrs. Lisle's dinner-table, "just what I'd
better do with the fellow I've got locked up on
a mistaken charge."
It might be an awkward posish," said Can-
ton Quimby -" position," quickly revising his
language to suit his audience, and blushing un-
ider the merry look Ida gave him. But you
have n't entered your complaint yet; and when
he comes up before the justice, you 've only to
Switch off from the wrong charge upon the true
one."
"I really think he ought to be made an ex-
ample," observed Mr. Walworth.
"No doubt," said Melverton. "But the
worst of it is, there '11 be a fine, which some-
body will have to pay for him."
"Too bad to have it fall on the old chin-
piler I mean his respectable grandparent,"
Quimby hastened to correct himself, under
.Ida's laughing eyes. "But he says he won't
pay any more fines for him."
He has said that before, and then paid
them," Fred replied, consulting his watch.
But I shall try to hold him to his resolution
this time. Sorry to leave your table so abruptly,
Mrs. Lisle; but an engagement with the mason,
and other disagreeable duties--I 'd a great
deal rather stay here," he laughed with a
Humorously reluctant look at Quimby.
"Can't we let the mason and justice -
wait?" his friend replied. "I don't want to
leave this spot." He glanced from Mrs. Lisle
' to Ida, with a smile of frank enjoyment. "But
I'm glad of one more chance to look into that
impostor's soul- if he has one. There's a fas-
cination in the fellow's eyes. Do you remember
how they blazed at his gram'er, Melf, when
the poor old creature wished to fetch his 'better-
most' coat? "
There '11 be a lively time when we have him
up before Judge Carter," Fred said. Come
around to the police court in about an hour,
Tracy, if you want to see the fun."
The appointment with the mason was kept,
the base of the chimney was broken into, in the
presence of Gran'sir Pudgwick, Chief Hazel,
and the two young men; and the phoebes' nest,


still in its newspaper wrapping, was taken out.
The delicate eggs were broken, but the nest
itself was in good condition.
Canton Quimby was so thoroughly convinced
that this was not the only object purloined and
concealed by the same hands, that he made a
thorough search amidst the soot and rubbish
of the chimney, and afterward reexamined the
stovepipe and the flue in the shop above; but
nothing further was brought to light.
I 'm afraid," he said to Melverton, "that
that precocious master of craft has beaten us."
Arraigned before the village magistrate, that
afternoon, in a small court-room adjoining the
lock-up in the basement of the town house,
Osk Ordway, with amazing effrontery, derided
the charge of nest robbery, even when the nest
was produced in evidence. But at the calling
of an unexpected witness his manner changed.
Gideon Ketterell was sworn.
Gid gave his testimony in terror of the ven-
geance threatened by Osk's eyes, and also of
another pair flashing greenish fire upon him
from under a heavy mane of tawny hair
beneath one of the barred windows of the
court-room. To the embarrassed and unwilling
witness the fear of the second pair of eyes was,
for good and wholesome reasons, the greater.
Gideon told a pretty straight story of Osk's
visit to the Melverton house that memorable
Tuesday, omitting smaller details; of Osk's say-
ing, as he left the door, that he was going to
look at the phocbes' nest under the bridge; and
of his actually having the nest in his hat when
Gid found him sitting among the bushes by the
brookside afterward.
Is this the nest ? Judge Carter inquired.
Gideon stooped over it, where it lay in the
opened newspaper wrapper, on the judge's
table.
I should say so; but the eggs was n't broke
then," replied the witness.
The judge proceeded with his questions,
prompted by Fred Melverton, seated at his
elbow.
After you saw it in his hat, in the bushes,
did you ever see it again until to-day ?"
Gid hesitated, and moved cautiously a step
farther from Osk, who stood scowling near by,
in front of the judge's desk.


rT" PI' E T7T CTTP







THE PRIZE CUP.


I did, twice," said the witness.
"Tell us where."
He kept it hid in the top of the stovepipe
in the paint-shop. I saw him take it out and
put it back again."
"That will do," said the judge; and with a
breath of relief Gideon stepped back, followed
by the eyes of the vindictively leering prisoner.
It seems a perfectly plain case," Judge Car-
ter remarked to Gran'sir Pudgwick, who sat
frowning and fretting, and opening and closing
his telescopic chin (to quote Canton Quimby's
lively expression), during these revelations. I
shall have to impose the fine."
"That's all right, Gran'sir! said Osk, with
an impatient shrug. Pony up, and le 's get
out of this. It makes me tired."
Beads of perspiration, not produced solely
by the closeness of the air of the court-room,
glistened on the old man's bald crown and visi-
bly writhing features.
If it must be, I s'pose it must," he said dis-
contentedly. "But I hope, judge, you '11 put
it at your lowest bigger."
"The statute fixes the fine at ten dollars,"
replied the judge. I 've no discretion in the
matter."
And what if 't ain't paid ? asked the old
man sharply.
Melverton and Quimby were watching him
with the keenest interest, and nudging each
other. Osk, from under his lowering brows,
fixed piercing eyes upon the irresolute gran'sir.
The magistrate of the informal village court
relaxed into the genial neighbor as he turned to
give Mr. Pudgwick friendly advice.
"You can have the case continued, and em-
ploy a lawyer for your grandson, or you can
appeal it to a higher court. But the evidence
is so plain, and the law so clear, that it would
be very unwise to incur any further cost in the
matter."
I don't want no cost. I want to save cost.
I don't want to pay that fine!" objected the
old man.
Nothing obliges you to do it. And I 'm
inclined to think it will be as well for you not to
do it," remarked Judge Carter, blandly.
"Then what?" squeaked the big man's
small voice, after a moment's reflection.


He will be committed to jail. The result
may be that he will be sent to some reformatory
institution, where he will be taught a useful
trade,. and at all events be kept out of mis-
chief."
The old man turned his eyes toward his grand-
son, and demanded, What do you say to that? "
And Osk answered with an indignant scoff:
"Just for taking a bird's nest? It 's absurd!
You and gram'er never '11 allow that."
Thereupon the judge, leaning back in his
chair, addressed the prisoner:
If that is done, it will not be just because
you have taken a bird's nest; you know that,
Oscar. But you have shown yourself an idle,
reckless, and dangerous character, ungrateful to
your best friends, ungovernable at home, and
exercising a baleful influence on your associates.
I am persuaded that it will be well for you, well
for your grandparents, and particularly well for
the community, that you should be removed
from your present surroundings, and put where
you will acquire habits of industry, obedience,
and general good behavior during the next two
or three years -say, till you are twenty-one."
The judge rapped on his desk to silence the
applause that greeted these sensible remarks.
Order!" he said, or I shall call upon Chief
Hazel to clear the court. I am not sorry,
however, that the prisoner and his grandparents
should have an opportunity to learn something
of the public sentiment regarding him."
The culprit's manner changed again, and he
spoke in a mild and candid tone which he
knew well how to assume.
"Judge," he said familiarly, you are more
than half right. I have been a trifle wild, I al-
low. But, I say now, give me another chance.
Gran'sir will pay the fine, I know."
I hain't got ten dollars about me," said the
old man, in great trouble of mind.
"No matter. You can raise it. Judge 'll
lend it to you. Old friends, you know. Won't
you, Judge?"
This audaciously cool request, on the part of
the prisoner, raised a laugh among the dozen or
twenty spectators, and tended to make every-
body good-natured, as Osk no doubt meant it
should, only the old gran'sir failing to see any
fun in his grandson's impertinence.


556


[MAY,






THE PRIZE CUP.


Even the judge had to smile, as he remarked,
"That would be an unheard-of arrangement-
for the court to impose a fine and then proceed
to pay it! I would n't advise your grandfather
to borrow the amount of anybody."
If I could only believe this was the last of
his tricks! the agitated old man muttered.
It 's the very last, I promise you," Osk
protested. Get me out of this little scrape,
and I '11 be a credit to you after this."
Seeing the old man shaken, Melverton leaned
over and whispered to him.
"I don't know," Gran'sir Pudgwick replied,
in a sort of plaintive whisper. If 't had been
anything valuable he took but jest a bird's
nest, as he says! I 've got a little money to
home, and if the judge '11 give me ten min-
utes "
A gleam of triumph lighted Osk's face. At
that moment an eager-eyed youth pressed for-
ward into the court-room.

CHAPTER XXXII.
"HIS BETTERMOSTT' COAT."
HALF an hour earlier, while Gideon was
giving his testimony, a yellow envelope had
been brought in by a messenger and handed
to Frank Melverton. Absorbed in the proceed-
ings of the trial, he gave a hasty glance at the
message, and then handed it to Canton Quimby.
But don't you see ? his friend whispered.
"This may be important. When we went
through his room we saw nothing of the kind.
I should have noticed it."
I think I should, too," Melverton replied.
"You may be right. It may lead to some-
thing. I believe I '11 jump on my wheel and
skip over-'t won't take long."
"No, no! You stay here. You may be
needed. I '11 go, or -there 's your friend!"
And Quimby beckoned to Tracy Lisle, who
stood among the spectators, watching the
young men in consultation over the yellow
missive.
Look here, Trace," said Melverton, show-
ing him the despatch. Do you remember
seeing anything of the sort ? "
N-o-o! Tracy murmured, glancing his eye
wonderingly over the paper.


Suppose you take my wheel at the door -
or Quimby's; you could n't ride mine," Mel-
verton said; "spin over to the house, see if you
can find out what this means, and be back here
again -"
"' Ere the leviathan can swim a league,'"
quoted Canton Quimby.
Tracy went, and he had now returned.
Flushed and panting he quickly made his way
to his friends, cap in hand, and carrying a coat
on his arm.
Find anything of it ?" Fred anxiously de-
manded.
No," Tracy whispered excitedly; "and I
did n't believe I should. There was only a
crumpled handkerchief lying on the table in his
room."
"We 're getting a clue," said Quimby, look-
ing up keenly at Osk Ordway, who was regard-
ing the coat on Tracy's arm with a strangely
intense and anxious expression.
But I 've got it!" Tra'cy whispered glee-
fully.
"The clue? asked Quimby.
"The thing itself," said Tracy.
And he whispered a rapid explanation into
the ears of his astonished friends.
"One moment, Mr. Pudgwick! Don't go
just yet," said Fred. The old gran'sir, after a
consultation with the judge, was setting off to
bring his money with which to pay the fine
he had before so firmly resolved not to pay.
" I 've a few words to say to his honor," Mel-
verton went on, rising to his feet, which I pre-
fer that you should hear. If his honor will
permit."
Go on," said Judge Carter, while all lis-
tened intently.
"I should like to explain," the young man
resumed, "that it was a search on our part for
very different and much more valuable plunder
that led to the discovery of the bird's nest in
Oscar's possession. A certain prize cup had
been taken from my mother's house about the
time when he had access to it, and I frankly
confess that I suspected him of appropriating
it. I now as frankly own that I was mistaken,
and I beg his pardon."
Oscar, who had been making signs for Tracy
to give him the coat, answered Fred's acknowl-


557






THE PRIZE CUP.


edgment with a glassy smile, as if by no means
at ease in his mind in regard to the situation.
"Still," Melverton proceeded, "I thought it
probable some other object might have been
taken a suspicion that could n't be readily
verified in a hurried survey of the premises.
But since I have been sitting here, a telegram
has been handed me, from my brother
Frank,"- he extended the despatch to the
judge,-" who, as your honor will perceive,
asks me to bring away what he mentions
-from the table in his room."
Meanwhile Canton Quimby sat watching, with
calm intensity, the changes in Osk's counte-
nance, and he now secured what he had so ar-
dently desired--a glimpse into that wily de-
ceiver's momentarily unmasked soul. Fred con-
tinued:
I immediately sent my friend, Tracy Lisle,
who has charge of the house, to look for what
should have been on my brother's table, and he
reports that it was n't to be found. By a singu-
lar coincidence, however -" He interrupted
himself, and added: "Will your honor allow
him to make a statement? "
The court sees no objection," the judge re-
plied. What is it, Tracy ? "
With his blue eyes sparkling, and his ruddy
features glowing, Master Lisle stepped forward,
and told his story.
"I went on a bicycle, and as I was passing
Maple street, old Mrs. Pudgwick ran out to ask
me how the trial was going. I could n't wait,
but she seemed so troubled, I said I would tell
her when I came along back. I had forgotten
all about it, when as I was nearing Maple
street again, I saw her running up from her
house, beckoning and calling; and I had to stop.
She had this coat" Tracy held it up for all to
look at-" and when I said there was n't much
to tell, and was starting on again, she caught
hold of me.
"' Do, please, take him this,' she said, so
he '11 have something decent to put on. It's
his bettermost coat. His gran'sir was going
to carry it to him,' she told. me; but I could
n't find it when he started off; I 've had the
greatest hunt! What the boy wanted to tuck
it away out o' sight so for, I can't imagine!'
All right; I '11 give it to him,' I said; but


as she was handing it to me, she noticed some-
thing heavy in one of the pockets, which she
had been in too great a hurry to give any
thought to before. It thumped against the
handle-bar like this."
Tracy swung the loaded pocket against the
judge's desk with a muffled thud, as he added:
I started to take it out for her. She saw it,
and was ever so much astonished. Then I said,
' Never mind! 'flung the coat over my arm, and
here it is! "
It was now Melverton's turn to resume his
explanation.
The thing in the pocket is this,- holding
it up before the eyes of judge, prisoner, and
spectators,- "my brother Frank's revolver.
He meant to carry it with him to the seaside, but
must have left it behind by accident, in the hurry
of departure. He seems to remember placing
it on his dressing-table, where it somehow got
overlooked at the last moment. He now tele-
graphs for it, as there is to be target-shooting
to-morrow. Your honor will notice what a cu-
riously wrought and perfect weapon it is; and
that it has my brother's initials on the butt-
cap. How it passed from his dressing-table into
Oscar Ordway's pocket, Oscar will perhaps ex-
plain."
"I see now," Chief Hazel observed, step-
ping up to examine the weapon, "why he ob-
jected so to his grandmother's getting his bet-
termost coat when I took him from the house."
Oscar attempted no explanations, but stood
sullenly defiant; and when Tracy handed him
the coat, with an angry stroke of his arm he
flung it upon the floor. There it lay in the dust
at his feet until old man Pudgwick stooped
with a groan to gather it up.
Judge Carter asked if Melverton wished to
enter a complaint against Osk for the far more
serious offense just brought to light.
"Whether or not I bring a formal charge,"
Fred replied, will depend upon circumstances.
If his petty fine is to be paid, and he is let loose
again upon the community, then I ought cer-
tainly to have him prosecuted to the extent of
the law. But if Mr. Pudgwick will take your
honor's excellent advice and allow him to be sent
to the State Reformatory, I shall be satisfied."
The court will give the case careful con-






THE PRIZE CUP.


sideration, and endeavor to act for the interests
of justice, and also for the best interests of the
boy himself." The judge turned to Mr. Pudg-
wick. "Has his grandfather any suggestion to
make ?"
Mr. Melverton is right-you are both right,"
Mr. Pudgwick replied with strong emotion,
mechanically brushing the dust from his grand-
son's bettermost" coat. "The reformatory is
the place for him, and I guess his gram'er '11
be of the same way of thinking when she knows."

CHAPTER XXXIII.
WHO KEPT THE CUP.
THESE events happened so short a time ago
that there is little more to tell. Oscar was in
due course sent to the reformatory; where, I
am pleased to learn, he is making an unex-
pectedly good record, showing what needed
discipline can sometimes do in the case of a
ne'er-do-well who fails to get his deserts at
home.
His absence from the village has proved a
blessing to the class of boys who were formerly
under his influence; so much of ill in a whole
community is often owing to the bad example
of one or two reckless leaders. Gideon has
gone to work; and George Oliver, no longer
finding anything to ridicule in Tracy Lisle's
" aristocratic ways," is trying, like him, honestly
and truly to "make the best of himself."
As for Midget, who is the real hero of this
story, if it has a hero, he is making extraordi-
nary progress in the line of education his mo-
ther fortunately hit upon, after so many disap-
pointments. The word cup proved the key that
was to open a new world to his childish mind.
When it was shown to him in print, he realized
for the first time that the alphabet signified
speech, and became interested in what had
failed to fix his attention before. Simultane-
ously with the printed alphabet he learned the
sign-alphabet of the deaf-mutes; and each
newly-acquired name of a thing became fixed
in his memory, associated with its three different
forms of expression: the spoken word, the writ-
ten or printed letters, and the finger movements
by which the same sounds were represented.


The various steps in his progress would form
an interesting story; but we have no place for
it here. Now in his eighth year he can pro-
nounce a great many common words, and read
many more from familiar lips (the speech of
strangers giving him much greater difficulty);
further than this, he can read and write as well
as many boys of his age who can hear and who
have enjoyed the advantage of school instruc-
tion. He has been taught wholly at home, and
his mother and Ida will probably continue his
teachers for some time yet, although Fred Mel-
verton claims the privilege of defraying his
expenses at the famous Northampton school.
Fred would never allow the Prize Cup to be
returned to the Melverton home. It is so curi-
ously associated with a most interesting inci-
dent in the child's life, that the owner has had
the inscription on it filled out in a different way
from what was originally intended; so that,
after the date of the race, it reads:
Won by Frederick Melverton, and by him
presented to his dear young friend, Laurie Lisle."
It stands on a mantel in the old parsonage;
and the last time I saw it there, the little nest
of fine hay, which had been removed only that
the engraving might be completed, again showed,
soft and brown, against the golden lining.
The phoebes never knew how kind the child
meant to be to them. But they have returned
to the old bridge, and have a new nest of their
own this spring.
THE END.


I .... '. -


559









A STROLL IN THE GARDEN OF ENGLAND.


By LIEUTENANT JOHN M. ELLICOTT, U. S. N.


a r- ', ].:**i.:. 'PH BY POULTON & SON, LONDON.
-THE. --- r 0 -.
IN the beautiful month oI May it ,~c ( .; .f CGravesend. That town, then,
is the natural wish of all of us to go --is the base from which we will
out into the woods and meadows and (SEE PAGE 563.) start for our walk, on a rare after-
valleys, to ramble amid the foliage and flowers noon when the sunshine is warm and the air is
and fragrance of spring. Now, had you been clear to the most distant point of view.
on a certain big, white man-of-war, in a certain A navigator can find his way over the most
month of May, you could have taken, as I unfamiliar seas with a chart; so if rambling
did, just such rambles one week in Algeria, through a strange country we first need a map.
the next in Spain, and the third in England. Going up the busiest street of Gravesend, we
The last was the most interesting of all, and if soon find a book-store and buy for sixpence a
you will follow me, in imagination, you can take pocket-map of County Kent. On that map we
it too, and enjoy its incidents. find the next nearest city to be Rochester, eight
That big, white man-of-war steamed up the miles away; so, in order to have an objective
Thames until only twenty-five miles from Lon- point, we take the road for Rochester, and
don, and moored in the narrowing river almost soon we are in a country lane bordered by
within jumping distance of the piers at the town hawthorn-hedges covered with theirlittlebunches






A STROLL IN THE GARDEN OF ENGLAND.


of white flowers, filling all the air with a fragrance
that we breathe in with delight. Through this
we are led on and on, with green meadows at our
left stretching away to the swift, busy Thames,
and on our right low, rounded hills and sloping
and rising fields, some green with rye and wheat,
some reddened with clover-blossoms, and some
yellow with buttercups, all separated by the
flowering, fragrant hawthorn hedges, and rising
slowly to a distant ridge of forest. Now and


over which commoners, lords, bishops, and kings
were wont to travel before the days of railroads.
Over this road traveled kings of Kent before
England was; over it swept the invading Danes,
and then the Saxons; over it went Harold to
the battle of Hastings; and back over it rode
William the Conqueror in triumph to London.
We near a wooded ridge, and on the left by
the roadside we come upon a strange feature
in a Kentish landscape two great yew trees


P- ~ ,1~i-


-"

Yd It -Z/;~


*I ~ ia ~ ------ -
'"~"~'~I.


. U -


-. '---- .,. .t -" ii, r, e .cpi trct,_F inri tlh-ir ,iik-i.grL'n br.rnci,-:, .fir 1 ,rc.i
-i' A i t.l.mrn 'ith tie roa.1. EIchli d irthem -. ii...i,.jcJ rri.' ,rh
a quaint sign- lilac-bushes and tulip-beds, all inclosed by an
board, or a farm-house nested away among the iron railing in which we are surprised to find no
purple lilacs. Our walk is marred only by gate. On the opposite side of the road is an
vagrants tramping to Canterbury, or to London, old-fashioned house of stone, with a little cupola
sleeping by the wayside, begging respectfully; on its roof. It is embowered in trees and
for we are on the great highway through Kent, almost hidden from the road by a high hedge.
VOL. XXIII.-71-72.






A STROLL IN THE GARDEN OF ENGLAND.


Full of curiosity, we go a few paces farther, is not open to visitors. It is now the private
and stop at the Sir John Falstaff Tavern, where residence of a country gentleman.
we ask questions and learn that the place is We learned afterward that the grotto with-
Gadshill, that ancient place of gads, or footpads, out a gate was connected with the house by
a tunnel under the road,
and formed a hiding-
place for Dickens from
curious visitors.
Leaving the high-
way by a pretty lane,
we are presently in a
most magnificent wood,
a vast cathedral of na-
ture. Its columns are
tall dark trunks of elm-
trees, supporting leafy,
intersecting arches of
golden green; its nave
and transepts are car-
peted with the softest
moss, in which a foot-
fall is silent; its screens
are of hawthorn and
honeysuckle; its chan-
cel is strewn with the
growing violets; and
its chapels are adorned
with rhododendrons
and ivy. Through and
upon it all floods the
softened sunlight; over
our heads sings a vast
choir of birds; and
around us the melodi-
ous hum of the bees
sounds like soft organ
notes.
AVENUE TO COBHAM HALL THROUGH THE PARK.
Here and there in
once so dreaded by the pilgrims journeying to the woods we come upon handsome, russet-
Canterbury and the merchants traveling to plumaged pheasants strutting about, rabbits hop-
London. It was here that, according to Shak- ping fearlessly across the clearings, and squirrels
spere, as we can find in "King Henry IV.," scampering from tree to tree.
old Sir John Falstaff had his encounter with Beyond these "Woods of Shorne we come to
the "men in buckram." a grand park, a thousand acres or more in ex-
But Gadshill reminds us of a man more real tent, full of old oaks under which are browsing
than Falstaff, and almost as well known as that herds of deer, and through the parka long avenue
tippling and cowardly knight's great creator- of stately elms stretches in a straight vista to
it reminds us of Charles Dickens. Sure enough, an ancient hall. This is Cobham Hall and
the innkeeper tells us, that house we have just Park, belonging to Lord Darnley. We may re-
passed was the house of Dickens; but, alas! it member that it is described in Pickwick Papers"


562






A STROLL. IN THE GARDEN OF ENGLAND.


where Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snod-
grass pass it going to the Leather Bottle Tavern.
Soon we are in Cobham village and arrive
at that same old Leather Bottle Tavern. We
pass through a narrow hall, and are ushered into
a dark, low-ceilinged room. Here Dickens used
to sit and study the guests. How many of his
unique characters must have passed all uncon-
sciously under his deep-seeing gaze in this old
room, for here he would make notes as he sat
in silence. Here, too, he made the Pickwick
Club to meet. The walls of the room are now
adorned with Cruikshank's quaint sketches of
Dickens's characters, with newspaper prints and
articles of the time, and with many portraits of
Dickens and his family. Strangely enough,
the only two pictures in the room not relating
to Dickens are portraits of the American actress
Mary Anderson.
Before we leave the inn, we write our names
in the visitors' book. It is growing late, and
we hurry back. It is still a beautiful walk, and
after five miles we are again in Gravesend.
Entering the town by the Pelham Road, we


come to the White Post Tavern, and must pause
to contemplate another spot of interest. Beside
the tavern is a little rectangular yard, well
covered with grass and surrounded by a flower
border. In the middle is a circular flower-bed
filled with white tulips, with a solitary rose-bush
in its center. Nothing further marks this spot,
and few know that it has a special interest; yet
under that sod is the tomb of Pocahontas.
In the parish register of old Saint Marie's
Church, which once stood there, is entered:
1617, Mary 21st. Rebecca Wrolffe, wyffe of Thomas
Wrolffe, Gent., a Virginia Ladye borne, was buried in ye
chancell.
There is a mistake in the name Thomas, for it
should be John. Mary is old style for May.
How strange was the fate of Pocahontas!
a savage maiden from the primeval forests of
America, who died among the civilized white
people she loved, far from the land of her birth.
Our walk is at an end, and we have scarcely
seen the hundredth part of that county of Kent
which all Englishmen agree in calling "the
Garden of England."


PICKWICK ROOM, LEATHER BOTTLE INN. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY POULTON & SON, LONDON.)


563













THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.

By LAURA E. RICHARDS.


WHO ever wore such a queer-looking thing ?
I wore it myself, dear, once upon a time; yes,
I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about
it, while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit
down, then, and let us be cozy.
I was making a visit in Hillton once, when
I was seventeen years old, just your age; stay-
ing with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is
now dead. I have told you about her, and it is
strange that I have never told you the story of the
green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years since I
looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis
and I; and we never thought much about the
difference in our ages, for she was young for her
years, and I was old for mine. In our daily
walk through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street
-we always went for the mail together, for
though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she
always liked to see mine, and it was quite the
event of the day-my good friend seldom failed
to point out to me a stately mansion that stood
by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone
of pride, "The Le Baron place, my dear; the
finest place in the county. Madam Le Baron,
who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as
any in Europe, though she wears no coronet to
her name."
I never knew exactly what Miss Persis
meant by this last remark, but it sounded mag-
nificent; and I always gazed respectfully at the
gray stone house which sheltered so grand a
personage. Madam Le Baron, it appeared,
never left the house in winter, and this was
January. Her friends called on her at stated
intervals, and, to judge from Miss Persis, never
failed to come away in a state of reverential
enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to my-
self the great lady as about six feet tall, clad
in purple velvet, and waving a peacock-feather
fan; but I never confided my imaginings even
to the sympathetic Miss Persis.


One day my friend returned from a visit to
the stone house, quite breathless, her pretty, old
face pink with excitement. She sat down on
the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me
with speechless emotion.
"Dear Miss Persis! I cried. What has
happened? Have you had bad news ? "
Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news ?
I should think not, indeed Child, Madam Le
Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say
at present. Not a word! Put on your best
hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron
waits for us "
It was as if she had said, The Sultan is on
the front doorstep." I flew upstairs, and made
myself as smart as I could in such a hurry.
My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own,
and though I had not the faintest idea what
was the matter, I felt that it must be something
of vital import. On the way, I begged my
companion to explain matters to me, but she
only shook her head and trotted on the faster.
" No time! she panted. Speech delays me,
my dear! All will be explained; only make
haste."
We made such haste that by the time we
rang at the door of the stone house neither of
us could speak, and Miss Persis could only
make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who
opened the door, and who looked amazed, as
well she might, at our burning cheeks and dis-
ordered appearance. Fortunately she knew
Miss Persis well, and lost no time in ushering
us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung with
family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned our-
selves with our pocket-handkerchiefs, while I
tried to find breath for a question; but there
was not time! A door opened at the further
end of the room; there was a soft rustle, a
smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next
moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A






THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.


slender figure, about my own height, in a quaint
old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged ii
puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest
softest eyes I ever saw, and a general air of
having left her crown in the next room;
this was the great lady.
We rose, and I made my best cour-
tesy,- we courtesied then, my dear, in-
stead of bowing like pump-handles,- and
she spoke to us in a soft old voice, that
rustled like the silk she wore, though it
had a clear sound, too. "So this is the
child!" she said. "I trust you are
very well, my dear! And has Miss El-
derby told you of the small particular
in which you can oblige me? "
Miss Persis hastened to say that she
wasted no time on explanations, but had
brought me as quickly as might be, think-
ing that the main thing. Madam Le
Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then
she turned to me; a few quiet words,
and I knew all about it. She had re-
ceived that morning a note from her
grandniece, a young and giddy person,"
who lived in B-, some twenty miles
away, announcing that she and a party
of friends were about to drive over to
Hillton to see the old house. She felt
sure that her dear aunt would be en-
chanted to see them, as it must be "quite
too forlorn for her, all alone in that great
barn"; so she might expect them the
next evening (that is, the evening of this
very day), in time for supper, and no
doubt as hungry as hunters. There would
be about a dozen of them, probably, but
she knew there was plenty of room at
Birchwood, and it would be a good thing
to fill up the empty rooms for once in a
way; so, looking forward to a pleasant
meeting, the writer remained her dearest
aunt's affectionate niece, Effie Gay."
"The child has no mother," said Madam L
Baron to Miss Persis; then turning to me, sh
said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, wh
are of middle age and not accustomed t
youthful visitors. Learning from my goo
friend Miss Elderby that a young gentlewoma
was staying at her house, I conceived the ide


of asking you to spend the night with me, and
such portion of the next day as my guests may
remain. If you are willing to do me this ser-
vice, my dear, you may put off your bonnet,


"THE NEXT MOMENT MADAM LE BARON STOOD BEFORE US."

e and I will send for your evening dress and
e your toilet necessaries."
o I had been listening in a dream, hearing
o what was said, but thinking it all like a fairy
d story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the
n speaker was the most beautirhl person I had
a ever seen in my life. The last sentence, how-


565






THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.


ever, brought me to my senses with a vengeance.
With s.:rlet .i.ch:kr I e.i lined lt u I lid L.brouglht
nc e-,nin:-- dr-; .: iitl : : ri-th I ll ve1r -uIer
lif,: r i. i.,:. me .n-i ,.- .1 *::.-,e.: ed no,[llthi ,Jli :o nt:-
here-: ti, t, r.t Le :1'i. f': Ir- 'i :. I ]. ,:.t ,*:u':l .1
thin e .,- :J ': r j l'nin .- ',r : ill ti-r i l:i [ii l
P eri, turn,-,i i|..ile .;rib .:i ilr.f-: r.I 1 ,ltt ii. -
catin:ii; L.ur i i arn L :,r.n l::..:cl'
at rie quieitili iuj'i Iv- I.:. e1\ -niile.
I k ill pri:\-i.J-e .,u vith a
sritabl,- dr:.--, yn -:!,:i." ihe
said. --I Ciai'-a -.-,nmith'n.
that tIill i1 .:n-ry ell for
you. I" vio lihke o :
to o'ur r,:o.m rnoC rly
m aiJ "ill itt brrng ub.ui is r]TL,:-;;ir\. i J

in tuir-- for Ui[:pp-r. :n
ei.ht I', l,,-k J k
Dewi:kedrlo I C;.1 -
walked i nto a fiir:, j ,, r


/' '-
.yLt


SIt



Lij


-, <-1


- -"

CM ~


Ifi


" LOOKING UP, I SAW A PORTRAIT ON THE WALL."


- rile, ,r el.e I n.-i, dre,-inng
iHere I sat in a rin 'uiii,
ih ,low:, red d, ima:l. in a ,._.r,-

S ii!':'l 1 tir\ ,il I ti nd t riei -
I i br':vn. d*Ji, e ced in i'i .ii I
S kie., ui-r be bl:i1.: onil:n]e.
,i, t!n,:.. gl| I krie, it .._- iv tr.-.rn .IL -
.z" -Llcrillinii: ia- L' brin.uiij, nl:u -
r, r: ,luIn-,,ke ,- id ,. ne
n a l.- r tiir ,e l ,C k,..i

S.:It r ,e irih kinId, i l.li e e ,
anBi'd -ail !,.-: -,:,ul I, rnc IPh.-

"^ mr,\ ,:,', n \",-,r,,Jerinr,, I'.]'iilie: I
h tir.-ll kne, i .i : ri-. Le I!-rii .k

ing: rrore, it w'.e:r'd,l iti llCe-e
few iour.;, tl-i.in in .ll n-, l III:'
before. I ir,.- i.: t ix my mind
oir the gay p..irty ti.t .ilid .:' i Fll ili.
silent. house vith ilif" and tumult; I tried
to fancy how Miss Effie Gay would look,


& I


5'


566


[MAY,






THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.


and what she would say to me; but my mind only hope that my anguish had not been
kept coming back to the dress, the evening visible.
dress, that I was to be privileged to wear. "Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said
What would it be like ? Would silk or muslin Madam Le Baron. "You can do it by your-
be prettier? If only it were not pink! A red- self? Well, I like to see the young indepen-
haired girl in pink was a sad sight! dent. I think the gown will become you; it
Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of has been considered handsome." She glanced
a beautiful girl, in a curious, old-time costume. fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room;
The soft dark eyes and regal
turn of the head told me that
it was my hostess in her
youth; and even as I looked, -t
I heard the rustle again, and
smelt the faint odor of sandal-
wood; and Madam Le Baron
came softly in, followed by the
fairy maid, bearing a long
parcel.
"Your gown, my dear,"
she said. "I thought you
would like to be preparing for
the evening. Undo it, Jessop!"
Jessop lifted fold on fold
of tissue paper. I looked,
expecting I know not what
fairy thing of lace and muslin :
I saw the green satin gown !
We were wearing large
sleeves then, something like
yours at the present day, and
high collars; the fashion was
at its height. This gown had
long, tight, wrinkled sleeves,
coming down over the hand,
and finished with a ruffle of
yellow lace; the neck, rounded
and half low, had a similar
ruffle almost deep enough to
he called a ruff; the waist, if
it could be called a waist, was
up under the arms: briefly, a
costume of my grandmother's
time. Little green satin slip-
pers lay beside it, and a huge
feather-fan hung by a green ""
ribbon. Was this a jest ?
was it?-I looked upl, with "M ADAM LE BARON CLASPED THE NECKLACE AROUND MV NECK."
burning cheeks and eyes suf-
fused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with the maid, after one sharp glance at me, in which
good will, that my eyes fell, and I could 1 thought I read an amused compassion, fol-







THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.


lowed; and I was left alone with the green
satin gown.
Cry ? No, I did not cry: I had been brought
up not to cry; but I suffered, my dear, as one
does suffer at seventeen. I thought of jumping
out of the window and running away, back to
Miss Persis; I thought of going to bed, and
saying I was ill. It was true, I said to myself,
with feverish violence: I was ill, sick with
shame and mortification and disappointment.
Appear before this gay party, dressed like my
own great-grandmother ? I would rather die!
A person might easily die of such distress as
this -and so on, and so on!
Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow,
came a thought, a word of my Uncle John's,
that had helped me many a time before. En-
deavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of pro-
portion!"
The words fell with weight on my distracted
mind. I sat up straight in the armchair into
which I had flung myself, face downward.
Was there any proportion in this horror? I
shook myself, then put the two sides together,
and looked at them. On one side, two lovely
old ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a
little, both of whom I could gratify; on the
other, my own dear me! was it vanity ? I
thought of the two sweet old faces, shining
with kindness; I fancied the distress, the disap-
pointment, that might come into them, if I -
Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud," I have found
the proportion!" I shook myself again, and
began to dress. And now a happy thought
struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the
wall, I saw that the fair girl was dressed in
green. Was it? Yes, it must be -it was the
very same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I
could, I arranged my hair in two great puffs,
with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in
the style of the picture; if only I had the high
comb! I slipped on the gown, which fitted me
well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied
the green ribbons round and round my ankles;
then I lighted all the candles, and looked at
myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps- and
yet -
At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a
pair of long yellow gloves; 'she looked me over
critically, saying nothing; glanced at the por-


trait, withdrew, and presently reappeared, with
the high tortoise-shell comb in her hand. She
placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me
again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it
was true, the necklace was wanting; but of
course -
Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-
the-box! She had disappeared again, and now
here she was for the third time; but this time
Madam Le Baron was with her. The old
lady looked at me silently, at my hair, then up
at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her
lovely face trampled under foot, put out of
existence, the last remnant of my foolish pride.
She turned to Jessop and nodded. Yes, by
all means! she said. The maid put into her
hand a long morocco box; madam kissed me,
and with soft, trembling fingers clasped the neck-
lace round my neck. It is a graceful compli-
ment you pay me, my child," she said, glancing
at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed.
" Oblige me by wearing this, to complete the
vision of my past youth."
Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and
tenderest green in the world, set in delicately-
wrought gold. I need not describe the neck-
lace to you. You think it the most beautiful
jewel in the world, and so do I; and I have
promised that you shall wear it on your eigh-
teenth birthday.
Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in
my appearance. She never changed the fash-
ion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she
told me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress
is her own affair, not her mantua-maker's; and
her cinnamon-colored brocade went very well
with the green satin. We stood side by side
for a moment, gazing into the long, dim mirror;
then she patted my shoulder and gave a little
sigh.
Your auburn hair looks well with the green,"
she said. My hair was dark, but otherwise-
Shall we go down, my dear? "
I will not say much about the evening. It
was painful, of course; but Effie Gay had no
mother, and much must be pardoned in such a
case. No doubt I made a quaint figure enough
among the six or eight gay girls, all dressed in
the latest fashion; but the first moment was
the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my


[MAY,






THE GREEN SATIN GOWN.


veins that kept me warm all the evening. An
occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's placid
face enabled me to preserve my sense of pro-
portion, and I remembered that two wise men,
Solomon and my Uncle John, had compared
the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns
under a pot. And and there were some
who did not laugh.
Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come,
and will be wanting his tea.


heavy on my arm, and a moment's search re-
vealed a strange matter.' The pocket was full
of goldpieces, shining half-eagles, which fell
about me in a golden shower, and made me cry
out with amazement; but this was not all!
The tears sprang to my eyes'as I opened the
morocco box and took out the chrysoprase
necklace: tears partly of gratitude and pleasure,
partly of sheer kindness and love and sorrow
for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of


"THE FIRST TIME HE SAW ME."


I can tell you the rest of the story in a few
words.
A year from that time Madam Le Baron died;
and a few weeks after her death, a parcel came
for me from Hillton. Opening it in great wonder,
what did I find but the gown, the green satin
gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tor-
toise-shell comb in a leather case Lifting it
reverently from the box, the dress felt singularly


me in her closing days, and had found (they
told me afterward) one of her last pleasures in
planning this surprise for nme.
There is something more that I might say,
my dear. Your dear father was one of that
gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of
the first time he saw me,-when I was
coming down the stairs in the green satin
gown.


569


1896.]




















SHOOTING-STARS THAT REACH THE EARTH.

BY OLIVER C. FARRINGTON.


ALL of you have been out of doors on a
cloudless evening, and have seen a star appar-
ently fall from its place in the sky, and glide in
a long line of light toward the horizon.
Perhaps you have wondered, as I used
to do, how long it would be before the stars
would all be gone from the sky, since one fell
so often. I did not then know, what I have
learned since, that" shooting-stars are not true
stars at all, but only bodies which appear for an
instant, and then disappear forever. Let us call
them meteors, and thus avoid confounding them
with real stars; for the real stars are as endur-
ing as anything in the universe.
In common speech, however, the term me-
teors is largely confined to those shooting-stars
which are very large and bright, and are seen
only now and then. Since they do not, how-
ever, differ from the shooting-stars in any im-
portant respect, so far as we know, most of the
learned scholars who make a study of such sub-
jects consider them the same.
Now, if meteors never came any nearer the
earth than do those which we so often see, we
should know nothing more about them than
what we could learn from their light, and that
would be very little.
But it sometimes happens that one of them
can be seen to come directly down to the earth.
It makes a bright light as it falls, sometimes so
intense as to outshine the sun when that is in
the sky. Sometimes the meteor carries with
it a cloud of smoke, and falls with a hissing,
spluttering noise, throwing out showers of sparks


as it descends. Usually, too, loud reports
are heard as it passes through the air, as if
aerial armies were cannonading one another;
and as the sound of the conflict dies .away,
long rolls of echoing thunder shake the earth.
When the astonished people thereabout have
recovered from their fright and hasten to the
spot where the .meteor struck the earth, they
sometimes find buried in the soil--if the soil
has any depth a piece of stone or metal, often
no larger than a hen's egg, but sometimes big
enough to be of several hundred pounds weight.
It is usually still hot if picked up very soon
after its fall, and its surface will be found to be
covered by a thin crust, or varnish, made by
the melting and flowing of its outside. This
crust on the stones is usually black, while the
interior is light gray in color; on the pieces of
metal it is of a rusty brown color, and the in-
terior of the mass nickel-white. It may be
seen on the stones shown in Fig. i, representing
some of those that fell about 5 P. M. on May 2,
1890, near Leland, Winnebago County, Iowa;
and where the crust has been broken off the
light-gray inside is seen. The surface of these
bodies can be seen, too, to be indented by little
pits or hollows which look for all the world as
if the mass had once been soft as a piece of
putty, and some one had pressed it with his
thumb in many places.
These pits are better illustrated in Fig. 2,
which shows how they appear upon a stone
which at one time fell from the sky, and
afterward was found at Long Island, Phillips


~4~1~-_;~ "":` ~'






SHOOTING-STARS THAT REACH THE EARTH.


County, Kansas. This is the largest stone ever
known to fall. It is now in the Field Co-
lumbian Museum, Chicago.
Because they come from meteors, bodies that


FIG. I. SOME OF THE STONES WHICH FELL AT LELAND, WIN-
NEBAGO CO., IOWA, ABOUT 5 P. M., MAY 2, 1890.

fall in this way are called meteorites; and for
very many years past all the meteorites which
have been seen to fall, or could be found, have
been carefully kept, so that they may be studied.
We know, too, that they have fallen in earlier
times as well, because the histories of nearly all
ancient peoples contain accounts of such occur-
rences, and of the homage paid to the "sky
stones" by those who thought them gifts from
the gods, or miraculous objects. It is prob-
able that the so-called goddess Diana who
was worshiped by the people of Ephesus was
a meteoric stone.
A mass of iron which proved to be a me-
teorite was found in Texas a few years ago,
at the crossing of a number of trails leading
in different directions; It was learned that
it had been set up by the Indians as a fetish,
or object of worship; and whoever passed
by was expected to leave upon it beads, ar-
rowheads, tobacco, or other articles as offer-
ings, since it was regarded as having come
from the Great Spirit. Another, which fell in
India some years ax,., was kept decked with
flowers, ai-: daily anointed, and frequently
worshiped with great ceremony. There is
preserved to this day in the parish church of
Ensisheim, Alsace, Germany, a stone weighing
over two hundred pounds, which fell in the
town November 16, 1492. The king, being
near at the time, had the stone carried to the'


castle, and after breaking off two pieces, one
for himself and the other for the Duke Sigis-
mund, ordered the remainder to be kept in the
church as a miraculous object; and it still hangs
there, suspended by a chain from the vault of
the choir.
Thus we see that these meteors often reach
the earth, and that many have been collected
and examined, so that their characters are pretty
well known. They all are found to be alike in
many respects, and by those who have studied
them carefully they can readily be distinguished
from anything else found upon the earth.
I have said that they are pieces either of
stone or of metal; and since the characters of
these two kinds differ somewhat, I shall describe
them a little more in detail.
The metallic meteorites are made up chiefly
of iron and nickel. These are alloyed together
in the proportion of from 90 to 95 per cent. of
iron to from 10 to 5 per cent. of nickel- a ratio
very much like that used for making the nickel-
steel with which our armored cruisers are plated.
Besides these there are small quantities of the
sulphides, phosphides, and carbides of iron, little
cobalt and manganese, and often minute quan-
tities of copper and tin. One or two meteorites
have been found which contain also quantities


IG. 2. THE STONE FOUND AT LONG ISLAND, PHILLIPS COUNTY,
KANSAS.

of minute diamonds, too small to be seen plainly,
but known by their great hardness.
The most curious feature of these meteorites,
however, is seen when a flat, polished surface






SHOOTING-STARS THAT REACH THE EARTH.


is exposed for a time to the action of a strong
acid. As the polish disappears under the eat-
ing power of the acid, there come out upon
the surface well defined bands, or lines, some-
times as much as an eighth of an inch in
breadth, and again so narrow as to be seen

.- ... .-.






FIG. 3. WIDMANNSTXTTIAN FIGURES ON THE LAURENS CO., SOUTH
CAROLINA, AND LION RIVER, SOUTH AFRICA, METEORITES.

only with a lens. These cross one another at
a great variety of angles and distances, and
produce strikingly intricate and beautiful fig-
ures. Moreover, these differ in meteorites which
fall at different times, and so afford a means
of distinguishing between them. Fig. 3 shows
the figures which distinguish the meteorites
of Laurens County, South Carolina, and Lion
River, South Africa. The figures brought out
by this etching process are believed to be pro-
duced by separation and crystallization of the
different substances of the meteorite while they
are in a more or less liquid state, the purer iron
separating itself from that which contains more
nickel, and these in turn from sulphides and
other compounds of the mass.
These, each being variously acted upon by
the acid, appear in relief, or depressed below
the surface, according as they resist the action
or are readily dissolved. Since the markings
were first described by Widmannstitt in 1808,
they are called WidmannstAttian figures. They
were for a long time thought to be peculiar to
meteorites, and were supposed to prove that any
lump of metal on which they could be brought
out had fallen from the sky; but we now know
that they appear on some masses of iron which
have always been upon the earth, and there-
fore indicate only a peculiar condition under
which the iron showing them was formed.
If the mass on which the figures are obtained
has also the crust, pitted surface, and chemical
composition such as I have described, there
can be little doubt that it fell from the sky,
even if no one saw it fall, because all these


characters together are not possessed by any
earthly bodies so far as we know. A great
many of the metallic meteorites now in collec-
tions have been obtained in this way, and are
known as meteoric "finds," in distinction from
meteoric "falls."
The largest iron meteorite known is one that
was found in 158i in the district of Chupaderos,
in the state of Chihuahua, Mexico. It is a solid
mass having a weight of fifteen tons. Its form
is illustrated by Fig. 4 and its size is indicated
by its proportion to the man standing near.
Not far away was found another nearly as
large. Both remained for a long time in the
place where they fell, but have recently been
moved by the Mexican government to the
School of Mines of Mexico, and may now be
seen there.
Another large iron meteorite is that which
was found at Cross Timbers, near the Red
River, Texas, and is now in the Peabody
Museum, Yale University. It has an oblong
form, and weighs 1635 pounds. It was for a


FIG. 4. THE CHUPADEROS, CHIHUAHUA, MEXICO, METEORITE.

long time in the cabinet of Colonel Gibbs of
New York city,. and after his death narrowly
escaped being lost, because the workmen who


[MAY,







SHOOTING-STARS THAT REACH THE EARTH.


%\ere removing his belongings concluded that
such a lump of iron was quite too worthless to
be saved. Digging a hole in the earth, they
had almost buried it from sight when a mem-
bi-r of the family very fortunately appeared and
Rescued it from its untimely grave.
Another iron meteorite, famous on account


FIG. 5. THE "SIGNET IRON," OF TUCSON, ARIZONA.


of its remarkable form, is that known as the
Signet Iron, found near Tucson, Arizona, and
now in the National Museum at Washington.
It has the shape of a huge seal ring, its weight
being about 1400 pounds, and greatest exterior
diameter four feet one inch. Other perforated
masses are known, but none having so large
an opening as this. When first discovered,
by Dr. John Le Conte, in 1851, it was im-
bedded in an upright position in the soil, and
was used by the inhabitants of the village as a
public anvil. They seemed to think it placed
very strangely but conveniently for their use,
and possibly would have hammered upon it
for centuries without ever trying to learn its
real nature.
Another illustration of uses to which meteor-
ites may be put before their real character is
known, is afforded by those of Kiowa County,
Kansas. They fell on a prairie where rocks
were scarce and valuable, and the farmers of
the vicinity found meteorites convenient for
holding down haystacks, stable roofs, or cov-
ers to rain-barrels. For such purposes they
might have been used for a long time, had
not the wife of one of the farmers become
convinced that there was something unusual
about them, and called in an expert to ex-
amine them. He at once recognized their
nature, and the enterprising woman finally sold


hers for enough to pay off a heavy mortgage
upon the farm.
From meteorites made up wholly of metal
there is every gradation through those made
up partly of metal and partly of stone to those
composed wholly of stone. The latter resem-
ble the rocks found about volcanoes or in the
trap outcrops of the earth. They are made
up chiefly of the minerals feldspar and augite,
or chrysolite and augite. There are, however,
very few of them which do not contain some
metallic grains, of iron or nickel, which would
distinguish them from any rocks of the earth.
Another peculiar feature of most of the stony
meteorites is that they contain little balls of
mineral fragments scattered through the mass
of the stone, like plums in a pudding. These
balls, or chondri, as they are termed from the
Greek word meaning a ball, can be seen, in a
section of the stone ground sufficiently thin to
be studied with the microscope, to be made up
of minerals like those of the stone itself, but
arranged in peculiar forms. They may be fan-
shaped, radiated, or concentric, and may
contain minerals in a fibrous or thread-like
condition, or as coarse, angular grains..
The section of the stone shown in Fig. 6 illus-
trates the appearance of these little balls, and the
different minerals of which they may be made up.
Some observers have thought these balls were
formed by fragments of rock rubbing against
one another till they were rounded. Others


FIG. 6. A SECTION OF THE STONE WHICH FELL AT HOMESTEAD,
IOWA, AS SEEN UNDER THE MICROSCOPE.

have considered them produced by rapid or
suddenly arrested crystallization which pre-


x896.]







SHOOTING-STARS THAT REACH THE EARTH.


vented the minerals from assuming their natural
shapes. In whatever way they were formed, it
is certain that they were made under condi-
tions somewhat different from any which pre-
vailed in producing the rocks of the earth, and
thus they aid us in distinguishing meteoric
stones from terrestrial rocks.
It is therefore not likely that the stones which
fall from the sky ever formed a part of the
earth; and, if they did not come from the earth,
they must have had their origin somewhere in
those vast regions of space where are the
moon and planets and all the other heavenly
bodies which we can see but can never hope
to reach. Because they resemble so closely
volcanic rocks, some scholars have thought they
were at some time thrown out by the volcanoes
of the moon, and so have reached us; but there
are many reasons why this cannot have been
their origin. Farther away than that they must
have been formed, somewhere out in the cold
of space, under conditions which we can only
conjecture. But because they are the only
bodies that ever reach the earth from out of the
universe beyond it, and are therefore the only
means by which we can judge directly of how
the starry worlds are made up and what their
history has been, their study possesses very
great interest, and some scientific men devote
much time to collecting and examining them.
So far no elements have been found in
meteorites differing from those of the earth.
Those which do occur are just such ones as are
most common here, being principally iron,
nickel, phosphorus, sulphur, carbon, oxygen,
silicon, magnesium, calcium, and aluminium.
Some of the minerals found in meteorites are,
however, not known to occur upon the earth,
and show that the conditions under which they
were produced were different from any that ex-
ist here. Thus the iron in them, instead of be-
ing rusty or oxidized, as it would be if exposed
to the action of water or air, is in pure, metallic
form. They contain also a mineral formed by
the union of phosphorus and iron, which could
not have been made in the presence of oxygen.
We know, therefore, that neither water, air, nor
free oxygen existed in the worlds from which
these bodies came.
A great deal of pains has also been taken


in studying these meteorites, in order to learn
whether they give any evidence that living be-
ings existed in the regions from which they
came. So far, however, no such evidence has
been found. Some of them contain pitchy
substances such as are on the earth probably
formed by plants; but it is not at all certain
that they could not have been of mineral origin.
So far, then, as we can learn from meteorites,
we find the heavenly bodies to be made
up of elements and minerals like those which
compose our earth, and to be uninhabited
by any living things.
Let us now go back for a moment to the
shooting-stars, and see why they do not all reach
the earth. We know that we live at the bottom
of an ocean of air, which we do not ordinarily
see or feel, but which is made up of molecules no
less real than those of water or of iron. We be-
come conscious of this when the wind blows
hard, because we can then see the effects of the
striking of these molecules against any solid
body, or we may even feel them cutting against
our faces. Any solid body passing through the
air encounters these molecules, and by friction
against them is heated just as a car-wheel gets
heated from friction produced by the applica-
tion of the brake. The greater the velocity of
the solid body, the more highly it will be
heated, as can be proved by the temperature
produced in a wire passed through the air at
different velocities. So one of these pieces of
stone or metal which is moving in space, and
traveling at a very high rate of speed (usually
not less than twenty miles a second), upon its
entrance into the earth's atmosphere immedi-
ately encounters a great resistance from the air,
and is very soon intensely heated. In this intense
heat it glows so that we see its light, and unless
it is of large size it will soon be burned up.
We then have seen a shooting-star, and we
never shall see it again. If, however, the mass
is so large that it gets to the earth before it is
burned up, a piece of stone or metal such as I
have described will be found where it has fallen;
and one more meteorite will be added to the
collections which already form a prominent
feature of the different museums of the world.
And by the study of these meteorites we hope to
learn something about the worlds beyond ours.


574













THE CHILDREN OF CHINATOWN IN


SAN FRANCISCO.


BY THEODORE WORES.


WHILE the Chinese quarter of San
Francisco is picturesque, and might well
be taken for part of the Chinese empire,
this -picturesqueness covers a multitude
of sins. What delights the eye often
offends the nose; and a worse combi-
nation of evil smells can hardly be ima-
gined than those one meets in this
crowded and filthy quarter.
Its picturesqueness, however, is its
redeeming feature; and the prettiest
things that greet the eye are the bright-
eyed and quaintly clad little children.
The streets abound with children of
all ages and conditions; and while nearly
all of them are born in this country, I
many are as ignorant of the English
language as if they had been brought
up in the heart of China. Others,
again, true street Arabs," though
Chinese, are too familiar with slang
phrases of the language of their adoption.
As a general rule, however, their edu-
cation is by no means neglected. In
this strange and curious meeting of the
oldest civilization of the East with that
of the youngest of the West, queer
neighborhoods are sometimes formed.
Christian churches are found next to Chinese
temples, and while the organ of the former
peals forth its melodious tones they mingle
with the pagan chant of priest and acolytes of
the neighboring Joss house." There exists in
the heart of Chinatown a public school for Chi-
nese children, in charge of the San Francisco
Board of Education, and it is attended by
many bright, studious little pigtailed pupils, all
eager to gain an American common-school
education. A few doors from this institution is
a school kept by an old Chinese schoolmaster-
a wise and learned man-especially imported


THE TOY-BALLOON MAN.
from China to teach these little pagans the wis-
dom of Confucius and other Chinese sages.
The pupils of the former school are taught to
read and write English as well as Chinese;
they learn arithmetic from our well-known text-
books, and also are taught the true geography
of the world. In the latter school they puzzle
their little brains over problems in arithmetic
on the Chinese counting-board. In Chinese
geography they learn that, with the exception
of a few small, half-civilized countries, China
represents and controls the world.
In addition, they are taught also polite de-






THE CHILDREN OF CHINATOWN IN SAN FRANCISCO.


portment, to read and write the complicated
Chinese characters, as well as the teachings of
their great philosopher Confucius. In other
words, they receive the same education as that
of a boy living in the shadow of the great wall
of China. A most pleasing and notable feature


- .* o


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ . .. .
AH YOUNG; MY LITTLE MODEL.
in this school is the politeness with which the
pupils treat one another.
I have often seen a class of ten or fifteen of
these little boys marching out of school in sin-
gle file. Each carried his counting-board and
books under his arm, and all chatted merrily as
they passed along. When they reached the


corner of the street where one or more of them
left the rest, all stopped a moment, and made a
low bow to the departing ones, and then went
on their march, keeping up the same ceremony
until they had all bowed one another home.
The boys who went to this Chinese school
were mostly the sons of wealthy
merchants, while those of the
public school, as a rule, be-
longed to the poorer classes.
However little liked the
Chinaman may be by his white
neighbors, I have at all times
found that the Chinese had at
least one good and praiseworthy
quality- the kindness shown
by all of them toward their
children.
The poorest parents always
seem able to save enough money
S to array their little ones in gay
garments on New Year's day
:or other holidays. The children
; in turn seem to be remarkably
well-behaved and respectful to-
Sward their elders, and rarely, if
S ever, receive corporal punish-
ment. They seem very happy,
and apparently enjoy their child-
hood more than most American
children. On almost any sunny
day the fond and proud father
may be seen at every turn in
Chinatown carrying his bright-
ly-attired youngster in his arms.
Other little tots, hardly old
enough to feel quite steady on
their legs, toddle about with
infants strapped on their backs.
They do not appear to mind
taoJrs~ pr. this, and it does not seem to in-
-.. .. terfere with their childish pas-
times. About the time of the
Chinese New Year Chinese children are par-
ticularly favored, and the fond fathers deny them
nothing. The little ones always appear to be
well provided with pocket-money to buy toys
and candies.
As a result, not only the Chinese shop-
keepers, but peddlers of other races, reap a rich






THE CHILDREN OF CHINATOWN IN SAN FRANCISCO.


b~irvet about this time by selling toys and nov-
elties. The seller of toy-balloons seems very
popul.ir, and is surrounded by boys and girls,
eager to buy the fascinating rubber globes.
In attempting to paint pictures of China-
town, I found it almost impossible to gain the
consent of the parents to have their children
pose ;- models for me. I tried in vain for a
long rune. They always declared that some
ill lu.:l would certainly overtake their little
ones it their portraits were painted. So strong
is this dread that. a person coming along the
street ith a camera creates a panic. Fright-
ened mothers, rushing about, seize their children
and dr.ig them indoors, out of harm's way.
This dislike to being pictured is very general,
and ilJ.,'s not apply only to children, as was
impressed upon me on one occasion when I
saw one of the most crowded streets in China-
tEon. suddenly cleared because of a photog-
irapher who had placed his camera at one end
!of the street to take a view. This fear of evil
,consequences I found to be so strong, that
.even the poorest would not be tempted by the
offer of money. Consequently I had about
given up, when I fortunately found the one
exception (in my experience) in Chinatown.
This was a poor woman with four little chil-
dren and a sick husband to support. She was in
great need, and my Chinese servant, after much
difficulty, persuaded her for a large payment to
let me paint her little girl named Ah Yung.
Ah Yung was a small maiden only seven
years of age, and consequently too young to
share her mother's superstitious fears. She
seemed rather pleased than otherwise, espe-
cially after she found a plentiful supply of
candy awaiting her at the studio. When the
tiny model had survived a number of sittings,
a great load was lifted from her mother's mind,
and she consented to have even Ah Sing, her
youngest boy, the light of her eye, pose for me
and be painted. After that, the rest was easy
enough; and so long as I required Chinese
children for models, I had no difficulty in pro-
curing the services of the members of this family.
Ah Yung always appeared most wonderfully
arrayed for these sittings. She wore a dainty
pink and blue costume, and a wreath of artificial
flowers adorned her head. Her cheeks were
VOL. XXIII.-73.


painted a bright red, and glass-bead ornaments
dangled over her forehead. As she was not of
noble birth, her feet were allowed to reach
their full size, and were encased in a pair of
finely made shoes with thick white soles. While
some of the Chinese girls had their-feet com-
pressed, it is rather the exception than the rule,
as the San Francisco Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Children has taken steps toward
having this barbarous custom abolished.
Taken altogether, Ah Yung, as she strutted
about in my studio, was so pretty an object
that I felt it was almost a pity she could not be
changed to porcelain, and placed on a shelf
where she would have made a most wonder-
fully decorative bit of studio bric-a-brac. But
in that case one of her greatest charms would
have been lost--her most graceful and co-
quettish little walk, which, accompanied by an
oldish and dignified manner, seemed most
amusing ih this little lady of seven.
Her bright black eyes saw everything that
went on, and her comments on some of the
visitors who came to the studio, especially the
ladies, were exceedingly amusing. I can only
remember one occasion when her usually happy
face wore a troubled look. It was on one of
my first visits to her home, and I found her
seated on a low bench, with a huge Chinese
mandolin in her arms. She had just taken her
first music-lesson, and it had probably been one
of the few griefs of her short life. But when
I last saw her -about a year afterward- she
was quite an expert musician, and not only
played, but sang, in the most approved Chinese
manner -in shrill high notes.
One day, just after the Chinese New Year,
I expressed my keen regrets to her that I had
been prevented from-paying her mother and
herself a New Year's call; and I hoped she had
not taken offense at my neglecting so important
a duty. This demure little maiden was seated
on the model stand, and listened attentively to
me as I made my excuses. "No, I was not
offended," she answered, most innocently,
"only sorry that you had not called. It really
was a pity," she added, "for Jim Kelly, the
man who carts away the ashes from our house,
called on New Year's day, and my mother
made him a present of twenty-five cents."


577











SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


BY ALBERT STEARNS.


[Begun in tle January number.]

CHAPTER IX.

THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE.

"THIS way," said Selim, whose face wore a
very discontented look. My predecessor was
never required to do this sort of thing-but no
matter!"
He led the explorers to a corner of the court-
yard, and lifted from its place one of the mar-
ble slabs of which the pavement was com-
posed. A dark pit was revealed, and an iron
ladder.
"Step lively, please," said Selim; "we 've
too much business on hand to waste any more
time with you."
"I can't see to the bottom," said Tom, peer-
ing down into the pit rather fearfully.
Of course you can't," returned Selim snap-
pishly. Well, well, why don't you start ? If
a man of Sindbad's age is n't afraid, a lad like
you ought n't to be "; for the great explorer
had already commenced the descent of the
ladder.
Stung by this remark, Tom followed his part-
ner; a few moments later the marble slab was
returned to its place, and the adventurers were
alone in the darkness.
Are you there, Mr. Sindbad ? asked Tom,
in a somewhat tremulous voice.
"Of course I am," was the reply.
How much farther do you suppose the bot-
tom is ? "
"It 's impossible for me to say; we may
have to travel on this ladder half a day, or even
longer, before we reach a landing-place. Oh,
we have lots of fun ahead of us."
Fun /" gasped Tom.
"Yes, fun. Are n't you enjoying this? I
am."
No, I 'm not," replied the boy very em-


phatically. What fun is there in climbing
down a rickety ladder in the dark, not know-
ing where you 're going to stop, or whether
there is any stopping-place at all? "
Why, the delightful uncertainty of the thing
is its principal charm! To think that beneath
us may yawn an abyss miles in depth -is n't
that a fascinating thought ? "
Not to me," said Tom.
Well, I don't know what to make of you.
At first I took you to be a lad of spirit, but
now well, never mind."
For some minutes they continued to de-
scend in silence; presently Sindbad broke out
with:
"I thought you told me you were fond of
adventure."
So I am," replied Tom, but not this sort
of adventure."
Oh, I see," remarked Sindbad with biting
sarcasm. "I imagine I understand about the
sort of adventure you 'd like. You ought to
have joined a 'personally conducted' party,
where the journey is prepared in advance, and
a man hired to bear the brunt of everything.
A great explorer you are, I must say! Ha,
ha, ha!"
An angry reply rose to Tom's lips, but he
checked it, reflecting that perhaps Sindbad's
scorn was not altogether without cause. After
another pause he said:
"How long do you suppose this ladder is,
Mr. Sindbad ? "
"I have no data on the subject, and must
decline to hazard a guess," was the reply, ut-
tered in the most freezing tone imaginable; evi-
dently Sindbad was deeply offended.
I did n't mean to be unreasonable," said
Tom, penitently; "but this adventure is so dif-
ferent from any of your others that I have
read about."
"Well, is n't variety the spice of life ? de-





SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


manded Sindbad. "You would n't have all
my \ ages exactly alike, would you? "
No; but I thought we 'd do some hunting,
and maybe a little whale-fishing, and fight
giart,. and all that sort of thing. Instead of
that -"
Well, good gracious we have n't been trav-
eling twenty-four hours yet-not eighteen.
To my way of thinking we 've crowded a good
deal of adventure into that time. I don't know
what you expect."
S"Well, I guess you're right, Mr. Sindbad,"
acknowledged Tom. "You see I 'm not used
to this exploring business, and maybe I have
some wrong ideas."
Spoken like a man; if I could get at you I
would shake your hand," said Sindbad, warmly.
-" Then we are good friends again."
Before Tom could reply, a terrific explosion
rent the air. So great was the concussion that
both the explorers lost their hold on the ladder.
As Tom found himself whirling through space
he arrived by a very rapid mental process at
the conclusion that his first voyage with Sind-
bad was destined to be his last.
The joint career of the two adventurers was
not to end just then, however; in about half a
second both Sindbad and Tom were lying on
their backs, staring up at an opening not more
than twelve or fifteen feet above them.
"Are you hurt ? asked the great explorer.
No; are you ? "
"Oh, no; it is n't so easy to hurt me."
"Why, we can't have fallen more than a foot
or two."
"No; don't you see how it is? We 've
been climbing down an endless ladder a sort
of treadmill. It is only a dozen feet in length;
but we might have been kept going a week,
if we had been able to hold on so long. Our
weight evidently put in operation some intricate
mechanical system. It was a mean trick; I
would n't have thought it of the Sultan."
"What do you suppose caused that awful
explosion ? asked Tom.
"Why, the Sultan was evidently monkeying
with that keg of powder. A powder-keg, a
sun-glass, and an illiterate potentate are a bad
combination. The keg must have been placed
very near the slab over our heads."


One of the pieces of marble almost hit me
on the forehead," said Tom.
Oh, well," said the explorer, lightly, "you
could n't be hurt much while traveling with me.
But," he added, there does n't seem to be any
particular necessity for us to lie here on our
backs any longer, since neither of us is injured
in the least."
"That 's so, Mr. Sindbad," replied Tom,
struck by the force of the remark.
"Then rise to your feet, and help me up."
Tom did so.
Now," he asked, "what shall we do ?"
"Press on, of course. There 's the subterra-
nean passage that the Sultan spoke of"; and
Sindbad pointed to a roughly hewn tunnel
about eight feet high, and five feet in width,
which yawned before them.
Tom could not help shuddering.
Do you think we 'd better venture in
there ? he asked.
I wish you would n't talk such nonsense,"
said Sindbad petulantly. "Really, you 're by
no means the good company I thought you to
be. We 've got to go somewhere, have n't
we ? "
"I suppose so," sighed Tom.
"Well, do you prefer to return to New Bag-
dad and be torn to pieces by the populace or
the wild horses ? Because if you do I '11 boost
you up; but I warn you I sha'n't attempt to
follow you."
No, no, we '11 take our chances in the sub-
terranean passage," said Tom hurriedly.
Come on, then, for there 's no telling when
those New Bagdadites will take it into their
heads to start after us."
And Sindbad plunged boldly into the tunnel,
followed closely by his partner.
At first they walked very cautiously, Sindbad
slightly in advance of Tom. But the road
was so. smooth and even that they gradually
accelerated their pace, and were soon trotting
along at the rate of, perhaps, four miles an
hour.
For some time neither spoke; Tom was the
first to break the silence.
How long do you suppose this walk is go-
ing to last, Mr. Sindbad ? he asked.
It is impossible for me to say," replied the


579








explorer. The tunnel may be ten miles in ing about the time," he said. "Here, you
length, or it may be ten thousand. You don't light another match from this one, and keep
see any light ahead, do you ? your eyes are one burning until they are all gone. That's it!
younger and, it may be, better than mine." Well, what do you think of the place ? "
No, sir, I do not. "It must have been an awful hard job to
Have you any idea make it," replied Tom, staring about him in
what time it is ? wonder.
"I '11 see if I can "I should say so. At first I thought it might
light one of my be a natural tunnel, but I see now that it is the
/ ,matches and work of human hands. Really, though the
/, look at my New Bagdadites may be behind the age in
watch." some things, they have an immense amount of
industry and perseverance."
/ You think they made this tunnel ? "
Undoubtedly they did. See, it is cut through
solid rock. Now, how was it possible for a
people dependent entirely upon the sun for heat
and light to accomplish this really great feat
of engineering ?"
As Tom could n't guess, and as he did n't
really care much, he said nothing. After
inspecting his surroundings with
an expression of awe until nearly
all the matches were gone,
Sindbad said, glancing at
his watch once more:
Well, let us press on;
S---- it's only a few min-
utes after noon,
and we may get
out of this be-
fore night."
"I 'm aw-
fully hungry,"
grumbled Tom
as they resumed
their way.
"Dear, dear!
it seems to me
that boys think
of nothing but
eating! said
Sindbad in a
-- tone indicative
"TOM ROSE TO HIS FEET, AND HELPED SINDBAD UP." of his extreme
disgust.
After scratching half a dozen or more matches "I 'm sorry," replied Tom; "but I can't
on the sole of his shoe Sindbad succeeded in think of anything else when I 'm so hungry.
striking a light. Why, I have n't had anything but that apple
"Let 's look around us a little before bother- to eat since dinner yesterday."


580


SINDBAD, SMITH &z CO.


[MAY,






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


"Neither have I, but you don't hear me
complain. What would you do if you had to
go without food for six months at a time?"
I 'd die," Tom answered promptly.
Don't be so sure of that; you never know
what you can do until you try."
Didyou ever go without food for six months,
Mr. Sindbad ?" asked Tom.
Yes, indeed; it was during my ninety-first
voyage. But, to be perfectly honest with you,
and to prevent your experimenting at some
future time with possibly disastrous results, I
should state that it was only through the kind-
ness of a fairy to whom I had done a favor
that I was enabled to survive the ordeal. But
to go without food twenty-four hours, or a
week -pooh that's nothing."
"You have known a great many fairies in
your time, have n't you, Mr. Sindbad ?" said
Tom, a little enviously.
Yes, indeed," replied Sindbad. "Why, at
one time Fairyland was as familiar to me as
Bagdad, or London, or Paris. It 's a nice
place, too; fine climate, unsurpassed scenery,
and no mosquitos or other nuisances. But' it
has its disadvantages."
"What are they ?" asked Tom.
"Well, for one thing, it 's monotonous- aw-
fully so. I did n't like the society at all. It 's
only once in a while that you find a really in-
tellectual fairy; most of them are content to
spend their time playing tricks on unsuspecting
mortals. You 've read of that sort of thing, I
suppose ? "
Oh, yes."
"Well, there 's more of it done than you 'd
believe. Germany and Ireland are favorite
tenting-grounds for the fairy folk, as you proba-
bly know."
"And where is Fairyland itself?" queried
Tom breathlessly.
Oh, you must n't ask that," returned Sind-
bad, in a tone of reserve. Really, I 'm afraid
I 've said too much already."
"What's the harm in answering my ques-
tion ? said Tom. "If you '11 tell me where
Fairyland is, I '11 promise never to mention it
to any one."
My dear boy," said Sindbad, the location
of Fairyland is as great a secret as that of New


Bagdad. Probably I could n't find it myself
again without magical aid. What little I know
about it, I can't possibly confide in any one;
if you are a gentleman you will say no more
on the subject."
A little hurt by his companion's tone, Tom
subsided; for- nearly an hour neither of the
partners spoke.
I got a sniff of fresh air just then," said
Sindbad so suddenly that his companion
jumped nervously at the sound of his voice.
" We are probably not very far from the exit."
I hope you are right," said Tom. "I shall
be mighty glad to get out of this place."
I don't see why," his partner replied snap-
pishly. The walking is good; I 'm sure this
is much better than tramping over a hot, dusty
country road. It seems to me you are rather
hard to please."
Tom closed his lips tightly to prevent him-
self from making a sharp reply, and mentally
denominated Sindbad an old crank." But
the explorer presently said in a milder tone :
"I 'm afraid I 'm getting cross; the fact is,
I 'm tired. Suppose we sit down and give our-
selves a few minutes' rest ? "
Tom gladly acquiesced; he would have
made the same proposition himself some time
before if he had not been afraid of a contemp-
tuous rebuff from Sindbad.
The partners seated themselves side by side,
with their backs against the stone wall of the
tunnel. Tom was about to ask Sindbad to nar-
rate one of his voyages not included in the
collection in the "Arabian Nights," when a snore
from that eminent traveler announced his ar-
rival in that much explored but little known
country, the mystic Land of Nod.

CHAPTER X.

SHIPWRECKED.

How Sindbad did snore! Tom had never
heard anything to equal his feats in that line.
But soon the sounds grew fainter and fainter;
then Tom ceased to hear them; the junior
partner was sleeping too. He was presently
awakened by the voice of the famous explorer:
"This won't do at all. Come, Thomas, I






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


can't indulge you any longer; we must be on
our way. But first I think I '11 put on the en-
chanted trousers; we shall need money when
we get out."
While Sindbad was doing so, Tom fell asleep
again, for which he received a severe reprimand
from Sindbad, who said:
"The spirit of adventure which you at first
manifested seems to have left you entirely. The
idea of sleeping in the midst of danger! Tut,
tut! "
Tom said nothing. They toiled on until the
sniff of fresh air that had been vouchsafed to
Sindbad became quite a sharp breeze.
It 's queer we don't see light ahead," said
the explorer. Certainly we ouch! "
"What 's the matter ? asked Tom, coming
to an abrupt standstill; he was a few feet be-
hind his companion.
Oh, nothing in particular," replied the ex-
plorer; I 've run up against a stone wall, and
knocked all the skin off my nose, and raised a
lump as big as a hen's egg on my forehead-
that's all. Such things never used to happen
to me when I was alone. Well, now we 're
in a fix, for we've reached the end of the tun-
nel, it seems."
No we have n't," said Tom eagerly, "this
is only a turning-place; look to your right and
you '11 see the exit."
Sindbad glanced in the direction indicated
and saw, far in the distance, a small circular
opening, through which a faint light was strug-
gling in.
"You 're right, my boy," said the senior part-
ner in an altered tone. "Did n't I tell you
I 'd see you through? We 'll be out of this
place in fifteen minutes."
Sindbad had miscalculated the distance, how-
ever; it was nearly half an hour before they
emerged from the tunnel. The opening was so
small that they were obliged to crawl through
it on all fours. The task accomplished, they
found themselves standing upon a pebbly beach.
Before them was a seemingly limitless stretch
of water, dimly illumined by the light of the
moon, which had almost sunk beneath the
waves. At their feet was moored a small boat.
"Now, what place is this, I wonder?" said
Sindbad. "No matter; we '11 remember it, so


that if at any time we feel inclined to return
we can do so."
"Why," cried Tom, "the entrance to the
tunnel is gone "
It had, in fact, entirely disappeared; the spot
at which they had emerged was now covered
by a huge boulder, which had materialized
while their backs were turned.
"This is the work of fairies; I recognize it
at once," said Sindbad with an air of superior
knowledge. "It would n't be of the slightest
use to try to find that tunnel again. Now
let 's get into that boat as quickly as we can."
Do you think we'd better? asked Tom
dubiously.
If I did not, I should not say so," replied
the explorer, a little severely. "Jump in and
take one of the two pairs of oars you see."
As he spoke Sindbad stepped into the boat,
while Tom followed him rather reluctantly,
saying:
I wonder if this boat was put here on pur-
pose for our use. But of course it could n't
have been."
Of course it was," said Sindbad. Will
you make haste? Untie the boat now -
that 's it. Now then, row for all you are
worth! "
"Why are you in such a hurry, Mr. Sind-
bad ? asked Tom, as he obeyed.
Don't you understand--can't you see,"
cried the explorer in a high-pitched voice, that
this shore is enchanted ground, and that we
want to get as far away from it as we can in the
shortest possible time ? "
Oh, I did n't know that!" said Tom, apol-
ogetically.
"Well, you ought to have known it," re-
sponded Sindbad.
"I never saw enchanted ground before,"
added the boy.
"That does n't make any difference."
It looks just like any other ground," said
Tom, a little offended by his companion's tone.
A contemptuous sniff from Sindbad was the
only reply. A long and very unpleasant silence
followed. The moon disappeared, black clouds
arose and obscured the sky. Tom began to feel
nervous. He did not want to be the first to
speak, but he was willing to meet his com-


[MAY,






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


panion half way. He purposely rowed as
badly as he could, and once or twice stopped
altogether, hoping to elicit a reprimand from
the explorer, but not a word would Sindbad
utter. At last he gave up in despair, and said
politely :
Mr. Sindbad !"
Did you speak ? asked his partner icily.
SYes; it 's awful dark, isn't it ? "
"Well, what do you expect, with the moon
down and the sky covered with clouds? "
"We can't see where we are going."
That may be a blessing," replied Sindbad
in a tone of awful significance.
What do you mean ?" cried Tom. Have
you any idea where we are ? "
Perhaps I have, perhaps I have n't," was
the unsatisfactory answer. There are a good
many things which you would n't understand
if I explained them to you."
"Whose fault would that be?" asked Tom,
a good deal nettled by his partner's tone.
"I do not care to discuss that question," re-
plied Sindbad in the most freezing manner; "I
leave you to draw your own inferences. And
I would suggest that if you cannot row a more
even stroke you stop altogether. I 'm an old
man, but I think I could manage this boat by
myself, even on these dangerous waters."
Very well, sir, you may do it." And Tom
threw his oars into the bottom of the boat, and
for some minutes sat with folded arms in an
attitude indicative of the extreme indignation
he felt. Sindbad could not see him, however,
and it was rather an uncomfortable position, so
he presently relaxed, reflecting that his com-
panion's advanced years might be a partial
excuse for his crankiness."
But I won't speak first, and that settles it,"
was his mental resolve.
Nor did he. In about half an hour Sindbad
said in a quite mild tone:
I believe this is the very same boat upon
which we were taken to New Bagdad."
I 'm sure it is," replied Tom.
"Are you ? Why ? cried the explorer,
eagerly.
Because there 's that little brass wheel over
here at the stern the one that Selim turned
when he wanted the vessel to grow bigger.


Say, Mr. Sindbad, I 'm going to turn it now;
maybe we can make a ship out of this."
No, don't!" interrupted Sindbad; but he
was too late, Tom had given the wheel a rapid
revolution.
The next moment the two explorers were
floundering in the water; the boat had de-
materialized.
That's just like you," puffed Sindbad. "I
never had such bad luck as I've had since I've
been traveling with you! "
Why, what have I done? spluttered Tom,
who was now swimming along at his com-
panion's side. "You blame me for every-
thing."
I blame you for this misfortune because it
is .entirely your fault. What have you done ?
Why, just what I knew you would do-turned
the wheel the wrong way."
"I believe I did!" exclaimed Tom, in a
tone of extreme chagrin.
I know you did."
And you think that is what made the boat
disappear?"
Of course; if you had turned it in the same
direction in which you saw Selim turn it we
should now be on board a ship like the one
that took us to New Bagdad. But you would
not listen to me. No, you knew better than I
did -and you see what has happened. I pre-
dict that you '11 come to no good end, young
man."
If you knew all about the wheel from the
beginning, why did n't you tell me to turn it be-
fore? asked Tom hotly. "What sense was
there in rowing until you were half tired to
death ? "
"Perhaps I did n't think of it perhaps I
had my reasons," replied Sindbad, in a voice
that betrayed no little mental irritation. And
let me tell you right now, that I do not pro-
pose to be catechized by a young-"
At this moment- greatly to the satisfaction
of Tom, we are sorry to say the eminent ex-
plorer swallowed a large mouthful of salt water,
part of which went the wrong way." When
he had finished sputtering and spluttering he
did not seem inclined to resume the conversa-
tion; and for a long time the two adventurers
swam on side by side in silence.






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


Tom was the first to speak. "I 'm tired,"
he said.
Indeed ? was Sindbad's frigid response.
I don't believe I can swim much farther,"
went on the junior explorer, rather faintly.
"Dear! dear !" sniffed Sindbad. "Why,
I 'm just getting warmed up to it. Boys are
not what they used to be in my time. Well, if
you can't swim you can float -that won't be
too great an exertion for you, will it ? "
The explorer's sarcasm so angered Tom that
he was about to make a very sharp reply, when
Sindbad, who was now some rods ahead, called
out in an altered tone:
Hallo Why, we've reached land! You '11
be able to wade in a minute. Be careful now,
and you '11 soon be out of danger."
In much less than a minute Tom was stag-
gering along in the dark, only knee-deep in
water; a few seconds later both explorers were
on dry land once more.
Sindbad groped about in the darkness, and
gained possession of Tom's hand.
Let bygones be bygones, partner," he said,
in a rather shaky voice.
Tom was melted at once.
"All right, Mr. Sindbad," he replied. "Say
no more about it."
"Spoken like a gentleman," said Sindbad.
"And you can't blame me -now, can you-for
being angry at your idiotic conduct in turning
that wheel in the wrong direction ? "
Tom had to bite his tongue to keep back an
angry reply; after a moment he said:
"That 's all right, Mr. Sindbad, let it go.
Where do you suppose we are ? "
On an uninhabited island without doubt, and
surrounded by frightful dangers," replied the
explorer, in his most sprightly manner. "I
have n't the least doubt that our lives are in
imminent peril. This really does begin to
seem like old times. Now, are n't you enjoy-
ing yourself immensely ?"
Y-yes," said Tom; "but what do you think
we had better do now ?"
Why, walk until we get out of the reach of
the tide, which is rising; then go to sleep."
"In these wet clothes ? cried Tom in dis-
may.
"Why, of course," replied Sindbad. "You


seem to have curious ideas about the life of a
professional explorer. You ought to do your
exploring in a private car with a couple of
attendants to see that you don't get in a draft."
"I only thought -" began the junior part-
ner.
Never mind what you only thought,' "
interrupted Sindbad, but attend to what I
say. We can't see a foot ahead of us, so it
would be folly to attempt to travel far to-night.
Luckily for us, it is quite warm for this time of
year. Here, give me your arm, and walk until
I tell you to stop."
Tom silently obeyed, and they toiled up a
rugged, rocky steep until Sindbad said:
"There! We 're not in danger of drowning
now, at any rate. We '11 lie down here and
sleep until morning. Select a soft spot for your-
self, and don't talk to me any more, for I'm
sleepy. Good night."
Good-night," said Tom, and he began look-
ing-or rather feeling--about for the soft
spot. He did not find it, for the eminent voy-
ager had paused upon a large flat rock. But
fatigue soon overcame him, and he lay down
and fell into a sound sleep.
When he awoke it was broad daylight; Sind-
bad still lay snoring, a few feet distant. As he
rose and looked about him, Tom involuntarily
burst into a loud laugh.
What.'s the matter ? cried Sindbad, wide
awake in a moment and springing to his feet.
"What are you laughing at ?"
"Why, you said this was an uninhabited
island," replied Tom. "It is n't anything of
the sort. That village is Newhampton; we're in
Connecticut, and within fifty miles of Oakdale."
For a moment Sindbad seemed just the least
bit embarrassed; but only for a moment.
"Dear me, so we are! he said. "And the
morning must be quite well advanced too.
How we have slept! My clothes are quite dry,
and I see yours are. Now, my boy, stick to
me, and don't allow yourself to become ex-
cited, and I '11 see you through."
"What do you think we 'd better do now ? "
asked Tom, almost stupefied by his companion's
coolness.
Why, go to breakfast, of course," answered
the explorer. Come."


(To be continued.)




















































_.__ ;............ .A M.AY-DAY PARTY IN CENTRAL PARK.












THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.

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


By WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


[Begun in tte November number.]

CHAPTER XIV.

JOHN IN "THE BLACK CASTLE."

EASTWARD from the dull and almost waveless
waters of the Dead Sea, there is a wild and
gloomy land of mountainous heights and dark,
precipitous ravines. On one of the highest
points of rock, overlooking the surrounding
country, Herod had constructed over the ruins
of a former fort the stronghold and palace of
Machmrus, or "The Black Castle." A town
had grown up near by, with heathen temples,
a theater, and places of trade and manufacture.
The palace had been made so splendid that
Herod preferred it as a residence, especially as
it was close to the frontier of Judea, and as
from it he could readily go to any other part
of his dominions, unwatched and unimpeded.
Here, at least, he could do whatever he pleased,
and all prisoners were at his mercy.
It was by no means safe for a stranger to
draw near to the frowning gates of the citadel
of Macherus; but the disciples of John did
come, again and again, only to be refused ad-
mission. For a long time, therefore, the Bap-
tizer was in comparative ignorance of what
might be going on in the great world beyond
the castle walls. Its kings might come or go;
its kingdoms might rise or fall; its cities might
prosper or perish; and no news of all could
penetrate the solid stone that walled him in.
A deep, dark, rock-hewn room was that
dungeon under the citadel of Macherus. High
up, near the outer level, was one small window
and the door was heavy, barred and grated.
Its occupant was a gaunt, tall, uncouth man
in a coarse tunic of camel's hair girded with a
broad belt of leather. He had preached to


multitudes, and he and his disciples had bap-
tized vast numbers. He had actually brought
about an important reformation in public mor-
als; but, more than all, he had proclaimed him-
self one sent to declare the speedy coming of
another "mightier than I," concerning whom
the people who heard John obtained only a
vague idea. But John's hearers were encour-
aged to expect the King who was to restore the
throne and crown of David.
Whatever John had understood or expected,
his work seemed ended, for there was no possi-
ble escape from Herod's dungeon.
It was ended; and yet, one morning, some
faithful friends who came to the outer gate
of the castle to seek him found the gate open.
They were led in, past other gates, through
corridors, down flights of steps, until they were
permitted to stand at the grated door of the
dungeon. After their greetings they told him
their errand. One after another, they related
the story of all that had been done by the one
whom John himself had baptized, and whom
he had declared prophetically to be "the
Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the
world."
Their sad voices were echoed by the vault
where their prophet was now confined. If, in-
deed, the promised One had come, why should
his first witness be condemned to the Machae-
rus dungeon? So the burden of their report
and their question was, "What hast thou to
say of Jesus of Nazareth ? "
John heard them patiently, but he could not
answer their questions. All he could say was:
Go, two of you, and ask him, and bring
me word again."
Not all of those who came had been ad-
mitted within the castle walls. At some little
distance down the slope there sat by the way-







THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


side one who seemed to have come with them.
He was a large man in tattered raiment, and
now he sat there as if begging, holding out for
alms, toward the gay courtiers and guests of
Herod who sauntered by, a withered hand.
He did not ask in vain, for now and then a
coin was thrown to him; but oftener he met
a scornful rebuff.
He sat there until at last the great gate of
the citadel once more was opened, the outer
guards stepped aside, and the little band of
the Baptizer's disciples came dejectedly out into
the road that led on downward toward the
town. They made no pause until they reached


"THEY WERE PERMITTED TO STAND AT THE GRATED DOOR
OF TIE DUNGEON.

the beggar by the wayside. As they drew
near he arose to his feet, his manner no longer
that of a beggar pleading for alms, but rather
that of a soldier awaiting orders.


What saith the prophet ? he asked. "What
doth he tell you of the Galilean ? "
He can tell us nothing," said one of the
foremost of John's visitors one who had been
a spokesman in the dungeon. But he bade
me and Cleopas go and seek Jesus, and ask,
so that not only we, but John himself, might
know what to think of this matter."
"I go also, then," responded Ezra the
Swordmaker. Perhaps this time I can suc-
ceed in passing through Pilate's dominions to
Galilee. They can but slay me. Thrice have
I tried and failed. I will go alone, lest the
swords that would slay me should find you
also. My hand betrays me to Pilate's men;
it is like the mark of Cain."
That hand indeed was a reason against ven-
turing once more among the enemies from
whom he had escaped. It was better that the
two disciples of John should select a different
route, and follow it by themselves. Ezra,
therefore, turned away from them, and long be-
fore sunset had reached a rocky ridge, east of
the Jordan, from which he could look back
upon the beetling battlements of Machaerus, far
away on the horizon. At his left, southerly,
spread the glassy, gloomy water of the Dead
Sea.
I must see him," he said. "I must see
Jesus of Nazareth, and find out who he is.
First of all, however, I must find Lois and Cyril.
God keep them But who can rejoice in his
children during such troublous times as these
bid fair to be ? "
Meanwhile Cyril and Lois, far away, had
been listening to a sermon which the Teacher
had preached to a great multitude. When
they discussed it afterward, they were able to
repeat parts of it with the accuracy which was
common to the Jewish children, trained in the
severe schools of the rabbis.
You remember more than I," said Cyril to
Lois, at last. How I wish father could have
been there And what a multitude there was!
Yet all could hear him."
': I long for a sight of father's face more and
more," replied Lois. I know it is not safe
for him to come, but he would be almost safe
if he could once get into Galilee."
Perhaps he would," said Cyril. He is







THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


now, I believe, somewhere in Judea, or beyond
it, in the wilderness."
This was the first time that either she or
Cyril had followed the Teacher so far from
their home in Capernaum. That city was now
many miles away, and Cyril did not mean to
return to it at once.
"Suppose," said Cyril, that we set out with
the Teacher and the Twelve to-morrow, and go
as far as Nain? We can then take the high-
way from there all the way to Capernaum.
That will make our journey shorter than to go
back the way we came."
Lois assented, for it was in accord with a
promise of speedy return which she had made
to Abigail.
The next morning came, and Cyril and Lois
were among the long, continually changing
throng which followed Jesus toward Nain, as
similar crowds had attended him from place to
place in all his toilsome, unceasing ministry.

CHAPTER XV.

THE SON OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN.

EVEN the greater number of those who were
present could not be near enough actually to
see a sick person healed, because of the crowd.
We will keep as near him as we can," re-
marked Cyril to Lois, at setting out.
Others were as eager as they, however; and
much of the time they were compelled to follow
at some distance, and talk with each other or
with various wayfarers concerning works of
marvelous healing which they themselves had
not witnessed. It was remarkable how many
of those they talked with were almost as strongly
persuaded as was Cyril himself that the king-
dom of David for which they were longing
was at hand. So the hours went by as they
walked on along the shady highway toward
the little walled town of Nain.
As they drew near the town they were com-
pelled to pause, for a number of people came
slowly and mournfully walking through the
open gate.
It was a funeral procession, and as it drew
near enough both Cyril and Lois could hear
the talk of those who came on in advance.


The dead man was the only son of his mother,
and she was a widow.
The mother closely followed the bearers, but
she was silent amid the noisy wailing of other
mourners. Of these some were professionals,
such as mourned for hire at the funerals of that
day; but more were friends and neighbors, and
their cries were a genuine testimony of their
grief and their sympathy.
The mother was no longer young. She
seemed pitifully withered and old and feeble,
as she tottered along the way, out from the
gate of Nain.
If her son had been only sick," said Lois,
"the Master would have cured him. But
look, Cyril! What is he going to do?"
At that moment the pent-up sorrow of the
widowed mother burst forth in passionate weep-
ing. The throng which had followed the
Master had paused out of respect for the fu-
neral procession, but he himself had not paused.
Now he stood so near the mother that her
sobbing seemed an appeal to him, although she
spoke no words nor addressed him in any way.
"Weep not," he said, and the tone with
which he spoke seemed a kindly command;
and as he spoke he turned from her and
stepped close to the bier.
He will be defiled!" exclaimed a low voice -
behind Cyril. "A rabbi must not touch the
dead! But I have done with him. He does not
teach the Law."
Cyril turned, and saw Ben Nassur, standing
among the disciples. He had walked many
miles the day before, from Cana, to hear the
Sermon on the Mount. Ben Nassur himself
even withdrew yet farther, although he was
already at a safe distance.
The face of the sorrowing mother was bent
low above the white cloth which covered the
body on the bier. The Master had touched the
bier, as if bidding the bearers to halt, and they
at once halted and lowered it.
The throng stood still, as if turned to stone.
There was a moment of silence, and then the
voice of the Master was heard:
"Young man, I say unto thee, Arise."
The form upon the bier arose to a sitting
posture. Mother !" came from the son's lips;
but beyond one sob she could make no sound.


588


(MAY,






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


A great fear fell upon all who saw or heard,
and the mother's face, too, was white with awe,
but not with the dread that came to the others.
She stood with her arms outreaching, in a ter-
rified doubt if indeed her son were coming back.
She was understood, for now the risen man
was on his feet, and the Master led him to his


"LOIS RETURNED TO HER NEEDLE-W(
mother. In the crowd, though they were still
stricken with wonder, some began to rejoice,
and there arose a triumphant voice crying:
A great prophet has risen among us "
Then, like a response, from the men of Nain
came back another cry of joy:
God has visited his people "


But the mother and her son, with their im-
mediate friends, hastened into the city.
"I shall go back to Cana," exclaimed Ben
Nassur. It is time the very chief priests
and doctors at Jerusalem should take some
action concerning this man whom the people
follow. Nobody will know what to believe."
I feel so glad for
that poor mother," ex-
claimed Lois. "If only
father could have been
there !"
"If hedoesnot come
soon," replied Cyril,
"I must seek for him."
But now we are to
return to Capernaum,"
Lois reminded him.
"We have fully
twenty miles to go,"
said Cyril, "perhaps
more; but we can go
by way of Nazareth."
But, after some dis-
cussion of the routes,
she and Cyril took the
shorter road that went
toward the lake, sev-
eral miles east of the
place where the youth
of Jesus was passed.
They reached Ca-
pernaum on the fol-
lowing day, and Cyril
went at once to his
work among the boats
and nets, while Lois
returned to her needle-
work.
They were the first
..".. tobring to Capernaum
the story of thewidow's
ORK." son at Nain.
Both Cyril and Lois were eager to be always
with the Teacher, although they fully under-
stood and expected that before long he would
be once more in Capernaum. If, however,
they could have been with him only a few days
after they left him at Nain, they might have
witnessed one result of the conference at






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


the door of John's dungeon in the Black
Castle.
All days were not alike in the work of the
Master, so far as men could see or understand
it. There were days when he seemed almost
seeking to escape from his task, as if it over-
burdened him; and there were many nights
when he went away by himself to lonely places
for prayer or meditation. There seemed, how-
ever, to be days of special power, and one
of these came at this time. The crowd was
dense around him; the sick and afflicted were
many, and he healed them. He spoke to the
throngs that followed him.
Standing among those crowded about were
three men, strangers to those around them.
They were sunburned, ascetic-looking men,
thin as if with fasting, and their sandals were
worn with much travel. They had on the
coarse garments worn by the Zealots of the
Judean wilderness, hermit-like men whom most
of the Jewish people held in great respect.
These listened and watched hour after hour,
until at last one of them stepped directly in
front of the Master and seemed about to speak.
It was by no means uncommon for men to
ask questions, and his answers were always
listened for with eager interest; and there was
a silence, for the manner of Jesus was as if he
had said to the stranger, Speak."
"John sent us unto thee," said the inquirer,
"bidding us ask of thee, Art thou he that should
come, or do we look for another ?"
This question, like an undertone, was heard
in all the talk concerning the Prophet of Naza-
reth. It was in another form Cyril's question
about the Captain.
"Go," said the Master, and shew John
again those things which you do hear and see:
The blind receive their sight, and the lame
walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf
hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor
have the gospel preached to them. And
blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended
in me."
The questioner bowed low and turned away,
followed by his companions. No man hindered
them; but as they passed beyond the border
of the crowd that still was pressing toward the
Teacher, one of them stood still and said to the


others: Go ye to Machaerus. Bear ye his
message to John. It is yours to bear, not
mine. I go to Capernaum. Yet I think you
will see me again, not many days hence."
So they parted, and Ezra the Swordmaker
turned his steps toward the north.

CHAPTER XVI.
EZRA'S WITHERED HAND.
THE next Saturday, the Sabbath, was memor-
able in Capernaum. When the morning came
it seemed as if the city awoke in a great fever
of excitement and expectation. The Prophet
of Nazareth was known to have returned, and
he was to preach at the synagogue. All
through the town, too, there were sick people
from the country around, and even from far
away, who had been brought there to be
healed. Not that they thought that anything
could be done for them upon the Sabbath.
Those who were suffering must suffer one day
more, and those who were about to die must
be left to die. They were utterly sincere, for
thousands of Jews had fallen by the swords of
their enemies rather than break the law of the
Sabbath, as they understood it.
So far as attendance upon religious services
was concerned, Cyril was now regarded as a
man. He could go to the synagogue, like his
elders, and find a seat where he would, so long
as he did not take one of those reserved for dig-
nitaries. Lois also could go, but not with her
brother. She and all other women went by un-
frequented streets, so far as possible, and might
greet. no one by the way. On reaching the
threshold of the synagogue all had to take off
their sandals.
The separate place for women in the syna-
gogue of Capernaum was raised like a gallery
above the main floor where the men sat. From
this gallery, at the beginning of the services,
Lois was looking down through the lattice
which prevented the women from being seen.
The Teacher occupied a seat in front, facing
the rest, and Lois could see that many of those
who were present were intently watching him.
"There is Ben Nassur," she said to herself,
as she caught sight of the rabbi. "He has
come all the way from Cana."


590


[MAY,






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


Perhaps he had come because of his great
zeal for the Law; for he and other wise and
learned rabbis of the sect of the Pharisees had
been of late greatly disturbed by what they had
heard concerning some of the doings and teach-
ings of the Prophet of Nazareth. They thought


Cyril at that moment turned, but the syna-
gogue was not the place for greetings. Besides,
the swordmaker's left hand on his shoulder
seemed to be pressing him down into silence, as
Jesus of Nazareth arose to read, from the scrip-
tures handed him, the appointed lesson of the


"'IT IS RESTORED WHOLE AS THE OTHER,' GASPED CYRIL, AS HIS FATHER LIFTED THAT RIGHT HAND BEFORE THE
CONGREGATION."


him too bold; and some of the things he had
said sounded new. They were such teachings
as had never yet received the approval of the
scribes, the chief priests, or the rabbis.
"There is Cyril just behind Isaac," thought
Lois; and then suddenly her heart gave a great
leap, and her face turned as pale as ashes.
It is father! she said, but not aloud, almost
rising from her seat; he has touched Cyril."


day. He read the written word, but he was
also reading the thoughts of the watchful, sus-
picious Pharisees before him. He saw Ben
Nassur turn and stare at Ezra and at the with-
ered hand which the swordmaker at last held
up as if inviting the attention of the Master.
Many saw the gesture, and a kind of mute ques-
tion passed from face to face : Will he heal on
the Sabbath ?" Very different was the thought







THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


of Lois: Father has come. I wish I could
ask the Master to heal his hand."
Cyril said nothing. He seemed to himself
not even to be thinking, hardly to be breathing.
"How eager Cyril looks! thought Lois.
"And father! Will the Master answer them ?"
She, too, was now gazing at the Master, with
all her heart in her eyes, while Isaac was put-
ting out a hand as if to restrain Ezra, at the
moment when the voice of Jesus rang through
the synagogue: Stand forth."
Forward strode the brawny swordmaker, and
there he stood, fixing his eyes upon those of
the man he had come so far and dared so much
to see. Lois thought she had never seen a no-
bler-looking. man than her father, nor a hand-
somer youth than her brother. Cyril also had
started forward; but he had paused, and was
now a few steps behind Ezra, his young face all
ablaze and his lips parted in eager expecta-
tion. The countenance of the Master did not
wear its usual expression.
He glanced from one to another of those
who, with Ben Nassur, were waiting, so full of
ready condemnation, to see what he would do,
and then he asked:
"Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath
days, or to do evil ? to save life, or to kill ? "
No voice responded to the Master's question.
It was easy to see that the Pharisees were
very angry, but not with the kind of anger, that
was more like sorrow, glowing in the face of
Jesus of Nazareth.
"Stretch forth thine hand," he said to Ezra
the Swordmaker.
Out went the sinewy arm to its full length,
while a strong shuddering shook the frame of
its owner. He obeyed promptly, instantly, vig-
orously, like a soldier obeying his captain; but,
as he did so, every sinew and fiber of arm and
hand were tingling, and the veins in which no
blood had freely coursed for long and heart-sore
years were throbbing full again.
"It is restored whole as the other! gasped
Cyril, as his father lifted that right hand toward
heaven before the congregation.
Shouts arose, and there were many who
glorified God; but Ben Nassur and the Pharisees
arose and stalked out of the synagogue.
"The people are with him here," said Isaac


to his zealous friends. All the rabble believe
he is a prophet. Even the centurion in com-
mand of the garrison is his friend. We must
go and take counsel. He has broken the Sab-
bath! He claims to be above the Law. It
is Beelzebub that helps him."
Herod is at Macherus, but all his friends
here will unite to crush a man who talks of a
new kingdom," said another.
Cyril heard, for he had been swept along a
little distance by the crowd, all the more help-
lessly because he had been trying to keep
his eyes upon his father, still standing before
the synagogue and gazing at the Teacher.
The latter was again speaking, and now in
all directions the friends of the sick were hur-
rying away to bring them forth for healing.
Not for Ezra alone had the bondage of the
Pharisees been removed forever from the uses
of the Sabbath.
I must speak to my father," exclaimed Lois
to a friend, as she left the synagogue. "I am
so thankful! There he is !"
My son," the swordmaker was saying at
that moment, "I have seen him. Yes, he is
the King! He is come! So they carried
word to John in his prison. The time is near
at hand."
"Didst thou speak to him ?" asked Cyril.
"I did speak," returned Ezra, his dark eyes
glancing with glad light, and his renewed hand
moving its firm, strong fingers, as if to do so
gave him the keenest pleasure. But what I
said I know not -only that he answered me,
'A little while.' "
"A little while ?" Cyril asked eagerly.
"But I cannot wait here," said Ezra; "I
must see Lois, and then I must depart. Thou
must abide here for a season, to be near him;
and I will tell thee where to find me. Seest
thou that hand ? "
"It is as strong as ever," said Cyril joyfully.
"Strong for the forge!" exclaimed Ezra.
"Full many a blade must pass under the ham-
mer before we can arm that first legion of our
King, which is to capture the great storehouse
of Roman weapons in Herod's tower at Jerusa-
lem. But first I must go and show that hand
as a witness to those in the wilderness of Judea
who wait for the kingdom."


(To be continued.)










A MAY-DAY SHOWER.

BY M. A. THOMSON.


BIRDS are singing,
Bells are ringing,
Children bringing
Garlands fair;
Maids are scorning
Clouds of warning;
Gay adorning
On May morning
Girls will wear.


Rain is falling,
Hearts appalling;
Some one 's calling,
" Homeward skip !"
Isabella's,
Ruth's and Ella's,
Maud's and Stella's
Wet umbrellas-
How they drip!


" Hat and feather,
Altogether
Spoiled by weather,"
Ruth bemoans;
Dress and filling,
Sash and quilling,
All so killing,
Maud, unwilling,
"Ruined!" owns.


Hey day! Hey day!
Choose not May-Day
For a play-day
Out of doors:
Or, prepare ye;
New gear spare ye;
Old clothes wear ye;
Never care ye
When it pours.


'- '- -r -L "



Litte Tn4B 'vb-e






Some oliter boys stared

AS his grac- s be a-rec

S aing Don't we 1oo0 Vne!





VO. XXII.--75. 59


"'1 1































ALICE was acquiring a habit of whistling
while working on the prairie just outside of her
sod house. She could whistle very sweetly,
too, which was something of an excuse for the
habit.
One day, while in the midst of her whistling
and picking up corncobs, she happened to
glance toward the corn-field that was only a
few rods from the house, and was very much
amused to discover a jack-rabbit peeping at
her from behind a corn-stalk.
She stopped her work, and at the same time
her whistling, to watch the funny-looking little
fellow; and he, just as soon as the whistling
had ceased, became terrified at having at-
tracted her attention, and, bounding away,
quickly disappeared from view.
Alice again began to whistle, merely as an-
experiment, and presently the long ears pointed
at her from behind another corn-stalk. She
went on whistling, and the foolish little animal
became so reckless that he hopped from behind i
the corn-stalk into full view. She then whis-
tled her sweetest, and he came a few feet nearer.
She suddenly stopped, and after a few moments
of dazed indecision, the timid creature began
hopping back to the corn-field as fast as he
could go. Suddenly, though, she began with
some sweet bird-notes, and, when he heard the


whistling again, the little animal stopped on the
instant, as though she had transfixed him with
a spear.
The amused experimenter continued these
sweet notes with variations, and the fascinated
animal, by degrees, came nearer and nearer un-
til within a few feet of the charmer, and there
he sat upon his haunches, literally "all ears,"
gazing at the whistler, entranced, his long ears
sticking straight up in the air, as if he wished
to catch every note.
Alice kept up the whistling until she was out
of breath, and when she stopped the funny
little creature again looked dazed, and seemed
quite undecided as to what he should do; then,
coming back to his senses, he was seized with a
sudden panic, and casting around him a terri-
fied glance, made long, hesitating leaps for the
corn-field, where he dashed into the shelter
of the shady stalks and quickly vanished, once
more from her sight.
After that, whenever Alice felt lonesome and
wanted to see the jack-rabbit, all she had to do
was to whistle for him; and it .was not long
before he began to listen for her summons,
while he peered cautiously from behind a corn-
stalk on the very edge of the field.
Alice -had a brother who occasionally came
to her claim. She told him all about her little







*A MUSIC-LOVING RABBIT.


friend the jack-rabbit,
and summoned it for
his entertainment.
The brother re-
mained out of sight
until the little creature
had taken its custo-
mary place a few feet f
in front of the girl;
theri, when he saw it I
seated there as im-
movable as a stone
image, he came to- I
ward it with uplifted
ax, and, taking aim, I
asked his sister
(though only to tease
her): "Shall I ?" -
She, very much
concerned for her lit-
tle friend, screamed
excitedly: "Don't, THE FASCI
don't, don't! The
poor little animal looked up at the ax in a
dazed way; then, suddenly understanding its
danger, leaped away over the prairie to a distant
sand-hill.
And it did not venture near the house again
as long as the brother remained there.
Alice left her claim for a while to visit a


'zi- .cz'<-


NATED ANIMAL CAME NEARER AND NEARER."


neighbor, and when she returned her whistling
was all in vain-no jack-rabbit ever again
obeyed the summons.
It may be some whistling hunter had been
there during the girl's absence, and that the
poor little creature's love for music had proved
its death-warrant.


"'- E:",


: : .:
,


A PROBLEM.

BY ESTHER W. BUXTON.


"I WONDER," said Teddy, one sunny day,
As he gazed at the meadow, with thought-
ful frown,
"Why the grass is so pretty and green and bright,
When it comes from the earth, so dirty
and brown!"


With a look of surprise in her great blue
eyes,
"Why, don't you know?" cried small
Katrine.
"The sun is yellow, the sky is blue,
And that is the reason the grass is green."


595





























By MARGARET JOHNSON.


"COME, come, we must hurry! Dame Nature cries
When the days grow long, and the last snow flies.
"The house is really in such a state,
The maids must work both early and late.
There 's company coming; for Summer--the dear!--
Her usual visit will make this year,
And fit for her bonny bright eyes to see,
In apple-pie order the house must be."

Then first comes March, with a brisk new broom,
And a smart rattan for whipping.
Her whistle's as clear as a blackbird's trill;
She beats and shakes with a right good will;
She brushes the webs from the ceiling high;
She sweeps the nooks and the comers dry,
Till the dust-clouds whirl, and the dead leaves fly;
And she answers the querulous passer-by
With a tongue both pert and nipping.

April next to the clean-swept room
With mop and pail comes skipping.
Her skirts tucked up from her ankles neat,
A rainbow smile in her dimples sweet,
She follows her sister-spatter and splash!
Wherever she pauses the big drops dash,
Till the house is shining from sill to sash,
And the windows bright in the sunshine flash,
And the very walls are dripping!
596


TSF"KIDG






SPRING HOUSE-CLEANING.


Last of all, with her cheeks a-bloom,
Sweet May comes daintily tripping.
She spreads the carpets of dazzling sheen,
She hangs the curtains of leafy green.
A touch of her fingers deft and fair,
And never a nook or a niche is bare.
She sprinkles with perfume all the air,
And sets her flower-bowls everywhere
With buds of the freshest clipping.

"Now we are ready!" the housewife cries.
"The maids may rest till the next snow flies!"
And fresher and fairer than ever before
The house will sparkle from ceiling to floor,
When Summer knocks at the good dame's door.
















*: .eunt-- -^ idS :-





THE PERVERSE SONGSTER.

By W. O. M'CLELLAND.

WHEN the clover-blooms fillip the rabbit's nose, When the rabbit leaps, up to his ears in snow,
And the hand of the summer shakes open the And the puffing cheeks of the North Wind
rose, blow,
And the cuckoo to visit the willow-tree goes, And the willow-tree rattles her fingers in woe,
What a sad note is it Who cares not a whit?
From the little tom-tit 'T is the little tom-tit
As he mournfully sings to the world his woes: As he cheerily calls to the world below:
"Phee-be-ee; ah, me "Chicadee! Look at me!
How can one be happy, and live in a tree? There 's nothing so fine as this life in a tree!"


597














A PARTY BY THE NAME OF SMITH.


By ARTHUR HOEBER.


WHEN I was a very little boy, I remember
having a vague idea that people by the name
of Smith must all be related, and I wondered
how the different branches of the family kept
track of one another. But though the years
have straightened out my ideas somewhat, and
there is less confusion about the relationship, it
must be admitted that, taking them altogether,
the Smiths are a large family!
Do you know how many people there are by
the name of Smith in the New York city direc-
tory ? Think of three thousand Smiths, most
of them fathers of families, then think of their
wives and children, and you will understand
how a plain William or a simple John Smith is
likely to be lost in the crowd. And as in New
York, so in other cities, great and small. And so
throughout England and Germany, for though
in the latter country they call it Schmidt, it
is the same old name spelled in another way.
In London, Smiths fairly swarm, and they
abound all over the British isles, from Land's
End, away down on the south coast of Corn-
wall, to John o' Groat's, the most northerly
point in Scotland.
You might fancy that for a man so to dis-
tinguish himself as to win a separate and
distinct place among all these thousands bear-
ing the same name would be well-nigh impos-
sible. In sports, they have a very expressive
word that they apply to a man who starts
under a disadvantage. They say he is "handi-
capped." So we might say of an unknown
Smith who seeks fame he is handicapped by
his name. And yet from Captain John Smith,
the sturdy old English explorer and adventurer,
down to old Dr. Samuel Francis Smith, who
wrote My Country, 't is of Thee," many dis-
tinguished men and women have honored this
common name.


Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes once wittily
wrote of this Dr. Smith- they were classmates
together at Harvard College -
Fate tried to conceal by naming him Smith,
but it could not be done. His memory is
cherished wherever his songs are sung, and
the Smith family well may be proud of this
worthy representative.
The Smiths, mind you, have helped to
make history; and if we have not had a Casar
or a Napoleon, a Washington or a Lincoln
among them, they still have played a very
important part in the progress of the world.
In the early history of our nation, when wise
men and true framed that famous document,
the Declaration of Independence, among the
patriots who had the privilege of putting their
names to the ringing words was plain old
James Smith, the warm friend of the great
Washington, and an earnest worker for the
cause of liberty. And a famous fighting
preacher of those days was Cotton Mather
Smith, who could expound the scripture to the
troops of General Philip Schuyler, or pick off
an enemy with his good old-fashioned rifle.
In the war of 1812 a modest young lieutenant
commanded the brig Eagle in the glorious
victory on Lake Champlain. His name was
Joseph Smith; but that did not prevent the
Congress of the United States of America from
giving him a vote of thanks for great gallantry
in battle. At a later time, when this brave
sailor had become an admiral, his son, Joseph,
Jr., who had followed the father's profession,
was an officer on board the ship Congress,"
fighting for the cause of the Union against the
Confederates. When the news reached the
parent that the ship had surrendered, the
admiral exclaimed, "then Joe is dead!" The






A PARTY BY THE NAME OF SMITH.


Sboy was dead; he had fallen, fighting for his
flag.
In the Civil War, indeed, the Smiths swarmed.
There were major-generals among them by the
dozen. Among these high officers were Andrew
Jackson Smith, so brave at Pleasant Hill, and
the dashing cavalryman Charles Henry Smith,
both of whom were thanked by Congress, and
other Smiths, named John Eugene, Green Clay,
Giles Alexander, Edmund Kirby, Charles Fer-
guson, and William Farrar (known as Baldy"
Smith), all major-generals and all distinguished.
And there was Gerrit Smith, a great philanthro-
pist, who during his life gave away over eight
millions of dollars in charity, who helped the
anti-slavery cause, and who finally signed the
bail bond of Jefferson Davis, when the Presi-
dent of the Confederacy was captured, the
other signers being Horace Greeley and Cor-
nelius Vanderbilt.
Of the hundreds of Smiths of lesser rank and
Sof the thousands of private soldiers we may not
speak here, but be sure the name was well rep-
resented on many a bloody field, and in the.
cemeteries where lie the honored dead who
Save their lives in a glorious cause.
S In the councils of the nation they have stood
high. A Secretary of the Interior, Caleb
Blood Smith, was largely influential in secur-
ing the nomination of Abraham Lincoln for
tle presidency and afterward served with credit
upon the bench, as circuit judge; and the
present Secretary of the Interior in President
Cleveland's Cabinet, as you all know, is Hon.
Hoke Smith, of Georgia. Then there was a
great surgeon, Henry Hollingsworth Smith,
who invented valuable methods for the relief
of the wounded; a remarkable chemist, John
Lawrence Smith, whose collection of meteor-
ites was the greatest ever made; and a geol-
ogist, Eugene Allen Smith, who made many
Valuable discoveries.
The name is of ancient origin, and dates
from the early days when men were called after
the trade they followed. A smith, we are told
by the Century Dictionary," is an artificer, a
i worker with the hammer, such as a blacksmith,
a goldsmith, a tinsmith or coppersmith, and in
times gone by, long before machinery was in-
vented, a good strong right arm was a very


useful limb, and did all the work. Powerful,
muscular men hammered out heated metal on
anvils and deftly shaped it into many articles
essential to the comfort and happiness of primi-
tive folks. People lived simple lives then, with
only the bare necessities, and managed to be
happy with little. You who have been brought
up in this luxurious age of inventions can
scarcely realize how many things that seem
necessary to you were unknown to your ances-
tors' times. And the smith was then an im-
portant man. So if he was named John he was
known as John, the smith, or if William, then
William, the smith; and from John, the smith,
to plain John Smith was not a great change.
Other names to which we give no heed in
these days were full of meaning in those times.
A few instances will show you what is meant.
Who among you does not know people with
such names as Weaver, Abbot, Taylor, Water-
man, Baker, Carpenter, Mason ? Each of these
family names originally meant that the men
who bore it were just what the name implied;
George, the Baker, or Harold, the Carpenter;
John, the Waterman, kept the ferry across the
river; Richard, the Tailor, made the clothes;
So you see how the trade or occupation might
give the name.
Of course, in time, additions were made,
spelling changed, and different branches of each
family went their own way, making such altera-
tions in their names as, for one reason or an-
other, suited them. Possibly some of us, even
in our own time, have known of people who,
not altogether satisfied with the old-fashioned
way, have made similar changes in the writing
of their family names, if not their Christian
ones. There may be some young girl who
thinks that plain Ann is more attractive when it
is written Anne, or that Marianne is an improve-
ment on simple Mary Ann. All this, however,
is wandering away from our old friends, the
Smiths.
We think nothing now of packing our trunks
and taking a run across the broad Atlantic
Ocean to Europe. Time was, however, and
not so very long ago, when such a trip was an
event of great importance, and not to be lightly
considered. A man by the name of Junius
Smith was the pioneer of this project of the


599






A PARTY BY THE NAME OF SMITH.


steam navigation of the high seas, and in the
spring of 1838, largely through his efforts, the
first steamer her name was Sirius "- made
the voyage. Your father has a combination
lock on the big safe in his office, and your mo-
ther a sewing-machine in the sitting-room up-
stairs. David M. Smith, inventor, thought out
both these ideas some years ago; and he further
originated the idea of a spring hook-and-eye;
and he made the first iron lathe-dog, such as
machinists now use. It was a naval architect,
Archibald Cary Smith, who built the cup-de-
fender for the yacht race of 1887, and the
" Mischief" showed that the Smiths can build
fast boats.
Years ago, when a terrible scourge of Asiatic
cholera broke out at Smyrna, and made terrific
headway, it was reserved for Azariah Smith,
an American missionary and a physician as
well, to stem the tide of the dread disease, and
by his skill and courage to save thousands of
lives. Still another missionary, Eli Smith this
time, who spent years in Syria, was the first to
cast a font of type in the Arabic language, and
so make it possible for a Bible to be printed in
that tongue. Nearer home, the greatest bridge-
builder in this country was Charles Shaler
Smith, an engineer of distinction, who four times
spanned the big Mississippi River, and who
planned the great structure over the St. Law-
rence, near the Lachine rapids.
When the ruler of Japan, the country that
has made such progress in the last few years,
wanted the assistance of American brains and
Yankee ideas, he sent over to the Government
of the United States and asked the President
to appoint a man who could aid him as an
adviser in international law. General Grant
promptly sent him over a man by the name of
Smith Erasmus Peshine Smith a graduate
of Columbia College, and a lawyer of great
ability. And this man added a word to the
English language, for he invented the term
"telegram," as a shorter method of saying
telegraphic message.
A famous college in Northampton, in Mas-
sachusetts, for the education of women, is


called Smith College, for it was founded by
Miss Sophia Smith; and another woman,
named Mrs. Erminie Adele Smith, was the first
woman Fellow of the New York Academy of
Sciences. This lady, working under the
auspices of the Smithsonian Institution of
Washington, took the language of the Iroquois
Indians and classified some I5,ooo words.
Why, a man named Smith announced him-
self as a prophet, and afterward founded a new
community out in the West, for Joseph Smith
was the head of the Mormon church.
Artists we have had in plenty among this
wonderful family, painters of pictures some
of them excellent pictures, too. You have all
seen drawings in the magazines by F. Hop-
kinson Smith, and if you 've been to the exhibi-
tions you have seen work that he has brought
back from Mexico, Holland, or Venice. And
when he is not painting he can write delightful
stories or pleasant accounts of his travels.
I have confined myself to the American
branch of the family only, because, if we tried
to include those on the other side of the water,
we should be fairly swamped; but there is one
curious thing I have not yet told you. There
are families some of you may know them
-named Taillefer, Tolliver, Tollfer, Telfair.
Now what would you say if I told you all
these were only, in good, plain English,-
Smith! It is a fact, nevertheless. Taillefer is
derived from the French, and the others are
only contractions of that word, or changes made
by mispronunciation and custom. Tailler fer
means to shape or fashion iron; and who shapes
iron but a smith ? So a taille-fer was, after
all, a smithy, "or Smith.
Shakspere's well known lines are too often
quoted:
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

The name, after all, does not count for much.
You have seen what can be done by men who
are very much in earnest, even though they la-
bored under the disadvantage of being one of
the great Smith family.


6oo

































. CLING
And swing
S High in the budding maple-trees;
And out on the perfumed air I fling
A message of song to the herald breeze,
To be carried down to the golden bees
Where they gossip over their garnering.
/, Clear, long,
And strong
I make my song,
That all the wakening world may hear
The tidings sweet
That I repeat:
This is the joy-time of the year /
Be glad!
Be glad!
S And have no fear;
This is the joy-time of the year!
The merry note
From out my throat
Is borne afar on wings of air;
A id through the woodland ways
remote
The quivering echoes rise and float,
And every one the tidings bear:
Be glad!
Be glad!
The Spring is here;
This is the joy-time of the year /
VOL. XXIII.-76. 6oi


Cheer up!
Cheer up!
The blossomed cup
Is filled for all the bees to sup.
The waters run
Beneath the sun,
Like strands of silver, through the grass;
And all the bees
Among the trees
Make love to every flower they pass.
Oh, hear!
Oh, hear!
How loud and clear
;" '" I sing to the listening
-- world below;
How joyously comes my
word of cheer:
f This is the joy-
g. time of the
year;

Whenblossoming
wind-flowers bend and blow;
When the sun shines warm and waters flow,
Be glad!
Be glad!/ ,
The Spring is here.
This is the joy-time of,. .. -/
the year! .


! ',


A





































'F


4. t-
tLW:*


THE GREAT BICYCLE RACE


AT GRASSHOPPERTOWN-THE START.


tWO
or~






























































1/;


Li


THE FINISH-A SURPRISE.

603


''


'"'
I






i







F;


,9"





































THE FEDERAL AND CONFEDERATE PICKETS ON THE
RAPPAHANNOCK. (SEE PAGE 606.)

IT is natural to think that in warfare all is
terrible, that the opposing armies are ani-
mated by deadly hatred toward each other;
but, while feelings of animosity certainly may
play an important part in the actions of the
powers that declare war, the soldiers engaged
do not at all times conduct the strife in the
same spirit. Even in civil wars, where those
of the same language and nationality are op-
posed, there are instances showing that human
kindness and courtesy have risen superior to
the conflict or the questions they were engaged
in settling.
For instance, at the battle of Fontenoy,
fought near the little village of that name in
Belgium, in 1745, occurred an episode illustrat-
ing the gallantry and politeness always so
characteristic of the French who, by the way,
won the battle.
The allied armies- English, Austrians, and
Dutch were drawn up in battle array, ready
to charge upon their opponents. The French,
commanded by Louis XV. and Marshal Saxe,


L:.ricir ii' '. L rui Y H c. c-, ni-A:r !r'l :r h
En.]i-m h gI jrd-. Lc'i .. out:
.T flntlc Il o tiC Frui':h Gu ird, firer
Count Auteroche, a lieutenant of the French
grenadiers, advanced, and, making a series of
bows and salutes, doffed his hat, and replied:
"After you, gentlemen. We never fire first."
Which, upon his retiring to his place in the
ranks, the English proceeded to do with dire
effect, sweeping away the whole first line op-
posed to them.
An instance of personal regard overcoming
the war spirit was told by Major Small to John
Trumbull, while the artist was painting in Lon-
don, after the Revolutionary war, his well-
known picture of the battle of Bunker Hill.
Major Small is the British officer seen in the
center of the painting, turning aside the bayonet
of a grenadier who is about to pierce the dying
General Warren.
When the British troops advanced on the
redoubt for the second time, Small, with other
officers, was in the lead encouraging his men.
They had advanced nearly to the breastwork
when a volley was poured in upon them which
was terribly effective. The British troops fell
back, and when Small looked around not an
officer was left standing. He glanced at the


/'1
P.v-






SOME WAR COURTESIES.


Americans, and seeing several muskets leveled says he "heard the words distinctly." Bowing,
directly at him, gave himself up for lost. At he thanked Putnam, and walked away un-
this moment General Putnam, an old comrade harmed.
of Small's in the French and Indian war, rushed Another incident of the same battle is told


"'AFTER YOU, GENTLEMEN. WE NEVER FIRE FIRST!'
forward, and striking up with his sword the of General Howe. While wounded, and lean-
muzzles of his men's pieces, cried out: ing on Major Small's arm, Howe saw that an
Don't fire at that man, my lads; I love him American officer had been shot, and exclaimed:
as I do my brother! Do you see that gallant young man who has
They were so near each other that the major just fallen ? Do you know him ? "


605






SOME WAR COURTESIES.


I believe it is my friend Warren," answered
Small, for he had recognized Dr. Samuel
Warren.
Leave me then, instantly," said Howe.
"Run! Keep off our grenadiers, and save him
if possible."
Small reached the fallen officer, and said to
him, I hope you are not badly hurt." The
young patriot looked up, smiled, seemed to
recognize his questioner, and then died, a bullet
having pierced his brain.
At a later period in history, when the English,
under the Duke of Wellington, were fighting
with the French, commanded by some of Na-
poleon's famous marshals, in the Spanish penin-
sula, an interesting episode occurred during the


THE LIFE OF MAJOR SMALL SAVED BY ISRAEL PUTNAM.

battle of Talavera, fought on a hot day in July,
1809. The soldiers at a critical moment in the
engagement ceased their firing, and with one


)rd met at a stream midway between the
s of battle, where they quenched their thirst,
filled their canteens before resuming the
lict. The day was so hot that human
are proved stronger than discipline or the
lority of their commanding officers.
Ve find many instances of this laying aside
the spirit of war during our War of the
million.
hus in one of the many engagements of
rman's March to the Sea," the "Boys in
e," charging through thick underbrush on
"Johnnies," were mowed down by terrible
charges of musketry which set the bushes on
The poor fellows who had fallen, many
them severely wounded, were in danger of
burning to death. The firing
ceased, and both sides helped
to carry the wounded out of the
reach of the flames. One of
the Federal officers was so
grateful that he took the revol-
vers from his belt and pre-
sented them, with his thanks,
to a leader of the Confederates.
It is well known that the
pickets on the banks of the
Rappahannock would exchange
coffee and tobacco, sending the
articles over to one another
on bits of board or chips made
into little boats.
An incident illustrating the
humorous side of warfare oc-
curred in the rifle-pits along
the James River in 1864. In
front of Fort Totten the
Stretches dug by each side were
S very near each other. The
weather had been very bad,
the rain had poured down and
nearly filled the trenches.
When it had ceased one of the
Boys in Blue called out:
"Hallo, Johnny! "
Hello, Yank! "
"How 's the water ?"
Pretty bad," was the answer.
Let's clean house!" the first speaker went on.
All right!" came the other's reply.


606


[MAY,






SOME WAR COURTESIES.


And the two opposing picket-lines turned
out, and spent hours in thoroughly drying out
their quarters.
Toward nightfall they called to one another,
and asked if the work was finished. Then, with
the warning, Get back home! all returned
to the trenches, the truce was at an end, and


the exposure of a head on either side thereafter
meant death to its owner.
Many other instances could be told of this
"suspension of hostilities" on the part of the
common soldiers; but these few will show that,
though at war, brave soldiers need not always
hate one another personally.


ENGLISH AND FRENCH SOLDIERS DURING THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA.


TWO PICTURES.

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS.


THE sun was shining calm and bright,
The meadow grass was deep;
The daisies and the buttercups
Were nodding half asleep.
And overhead the sparrows sat
And dozed upon the bough,
For all the world was sleepy then,
When Johnny drove the cow.


The sun was like a flaming beast!
The field was like the sea!
The grass, like angry snakes, did hiss
And wriggle at his knee.
The sparrows turned to goblin imps
That yelled, and fluttered on,
As, through a world gone raving mad,
The cow was driving John.


607











































SWEET CONFIDENCE.

BY THOMAS B. CRYSTAL.


A SIX-YEAR-OLD young lady
Stood near the music stand
In Central Park, one Sunday,
With candy in her hand.

She looked around bewildered,
As if she were afraid;
Then to a Park policeman
The little maiden said:

"Do you like candy, mister? "
No, not a bit," said he.
Well, then," she cried, I '11 trust you
To carry mine for me!"
608







LITTLE ROGER'S PRAYER.


By MARGARET DRYSDALE JOHNSON.


THE plumbers all had come one day
The pipes for natural gas to lay,
And Roger's eyes, full of amaze,
Had followed them with wondering gaze.

Of questions he asked many a score,
And still he fain would ask them more.
"How could the natural gas turn on?"
"Would it explode when that was done ? "

And so a plumber who was kind
Tried to instruct that youthful mind.
He said they dug deep in the ground
And lo! the natural gas was found.

In pipes they brought it through the streets
And to the houses that it heats.


You turned the key, the gas then came
Bursting into a ruddy flame.

But if a little boy should try
He'd blow the house up to the sky;
And so the key he must not touch
Although he 'd like to very much.

Poor child! He thought, and thought, and
thought.
Vainly for comfort now he sought.
"What if papa or mama dear
Should be burned up ? He shook with fear!

At last night came and time for bed;
His little evening prayers he said,
And finished with: "And please, oh, please
Don't let me monkey with the keys!"


PUSSY MITZ AND DOGGIE SPITZ.


By LAURA E. RICHARDS.


LITTLE Pussy Mitz
Sand little Dog-
gie Spitz
S Lived in a house
.*-_-.- together.
She wore a ribbon
of sky-blue silk,
.- He wore a collar
I of leather.

She liked cream in
a china dish,
He liked bones in a corner;
He loved to jump at his master's wish,
But she was of laws a scorner.

He liked to roll in the garden mud,
She was as clean as a Quaker;
He always barked at the butcher's man,
She humped her back at the baker.

But the joy of both was to curl up and lie
In their mistress's great arm-chair;
VoL. XXIII.-77. 60


And each wore the willow when the other
got the pillow,
And neither thought the other one fair.

Said little Pussy Mitz, I shall go into fits,
If I can't have my corner now! "
Said little Doggie Spitz, "Pray compose your
little wits.
What right have you here, anyhow ?"

With a "Bow! wow! wow!" and a "Fss!
fss! fss! "
With a yap and a snap and a snarl and a hiss,-
Till the mistress came with her greatbig broom,
And drove them squabbling out of the room.







LITTLE ROGER'S PRAYER.


By MARGARET DRYSDALE JOHNSON.


THE plumbers all had come one day
The pipes for natural gas to lay,
And Roger's eyes, full of amaze,
Had followed them with wondering gaze.

Of questions he asked many a score,
And still he fain would ask them more.
"How could the natural gas turn on?"
"Would it explode when that was done ? "

And so a plumber who was kind
Tried to instruct that youthful mind.
He said they dug deep in the ground
And lo! the natural gas was found.

In pipes they brought it through the streets
And to the houses that it heats.


You turned the key, the gas then came
Bursting into a ruddy flame.

But if a little boy should try
He'd blow the house up to the sky;
And so the key he must not touch
Although he 'd like to very much.

Poor child! He thought, and thought, and
thought.
Vainly for comfort now he sought.
"What if papa or mama dear
Should be burned up ? He shook with fear!

At last night came and time for bed;
His little evening prayers he said,
And finished with: "And please, oh, please
Don't let me monkey with the keys!"


PUSSY MITZ AND DOGGIE SPITZ.


By LAURA E. RICHARDS.


LITTLE Pussy Mitz
Sand little Dog-
gie Spitz
S Lived in a house
.*-_-.- together.
She wore a ribbon
of sky-blue silk,
.- He wore a collar
I of leather.

She liked cream in
a china dish,
He liked bones in a corner;
He loved to jump at his master's wish,
But she was of laws a scorner.

He liked to roll in the garden mud,
She was as clean as a Quaker;
He always barked at the butcher's man,
She humped her back at the baker.

But the joy of both was to curl up and lie
In their mistress's great arm-chair;
VoL. XXIII.-77. 60


And each wore the willow when the other
got the pillow,
And neither thought the other one fair.

Said little Pussy Mitz, I shall go into fits,
If I can't have my corner now! "
Said little Doggie Spitz, "Pray compose your
little wits.
What right have you here, anyhow ?"

With a "Bow! wow! wow!" and a "Fss!
fss! fss! "
With a yap and a snap and a snarl and a hiss,-
Till the mistress came with her greatbig broom,
And drove them squabbling out of the room.







RHYMES OF THE STATES.
By GARRETT NEWKIRK.


" A land of mountains," this word means
The Rocky Mountain chain
Extends so far, with all the hills
There 's left but little plain,

The Indian hunter's paradise
Was here, not long ago;
Where roamed the grizzly bear, the elk,
And herds of buffalo.

Missouri River from the west
Comes down with many a leap,
To meet the Yellowstone that flows
Through gorges wild and deep.

'T was in this State that Custer brave
And many gallant men
Rode forth against the savage foe; )I1
But none rode back again.


r0~
,d~r0


C. 6, \ d t .


1


V/YO


Af/A


9k 1/
(


I I E/


I


6oo60 /';le .


. _
':, '.-2-f5 --







RHYMES OF THE STATES.
By GARRETT NEWKIRK.


" A land of mountains," this word means
The Rocky Mountain chain
Extends so far, with all the hills
There 's left but little plain,

The Indian hunter's paradise
Was here, not long ago;
Where roamed the grizzly bear, the elk,
And herds of buffalo.

Missouri River from the west
Comes down with many a leap,
To meet the Yellowstone that flows
Through gorges wild and deep.

'T was in this State that Custer brave
And many gallant men
Rode forth against the savage foe; )I1
But none rode back again.


r0~
,d~r0


C. 6, \ d t .


1


V/YO


Af/A


9k 1/
(


I I E/


I


6oo60 /';le .


. _
':, '.-2-f5 --






RHYMES OF THE STATES.


Our stories end: this page we give ~ -
To North and South Dakota-
Two wide and mostly level States
Just west of Minnesota.
SHere farms are many-some are large,
And fields of wheat are grand:
,The flour we buy is often marked
" Dakota Four X brand."
SRed River, on their eastern line,
Flows north, toward Hudson's Bay;
Our only stream with current wide
Whose waters run that way.
And here we have the great Black Hills,
Southwest along the line;
A region very rough and wild, -
With many a wealthy mine.


-4 ---U


SIP

~I0*
V-rP 4
















THE LETTER-BOX.


A YOUNG READER of ST. NICHOLAS wishes to know
whether any other reader of this magazine can supply
the three numbers of "Wide Awake" for December,
I891, February, 1892, and April, 1892. Anyone having
those numbers, and willing to dispose of them, will
please communicate with the Editor.

BALTIMORE, MD.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am just nine years old,
but my sisters and I have had you in our family for seven
years, and we are all very fond of you.
We generally live in New York in winter, and we go
to Massachusetts in summer. I am staying down in
Baltimore now with my aunt, and I do not expect to go
home for three months that is, if I d6 not get home-
sick. While here my aunt gave me a New Year's eve
party, and I met a great many Baltimore children. We
only stayed up till nine o'clock, as my aunt thought that
was late enough for me. I wanted to lie awake and lis-
ten for the New Year bells, but I found I was too sleepy.
As I said, we go to Massachusetts in summer, and I am
going to tell you about something rather unusual that
happened there. My sister Nellie and I were out walk-
ing by the side of a little stream that flows through our
place, when I stumbled over a stone and cut rmy hand
very badly. Nellie ran to pick me up, and as she did
so, the ground gave way, and we found ourselves standing
about two feet below the ground on a large flat stone.
We were very frightened, but Nellie, who is nearly thir-
teen and very tall, climbed out, and then lifted me out.
When we got up we looked down in the hole and saw
that it was a regular pit with a stone floor, and standing
stuck into the dirt around the wall were six Indian ar-
rows. We ran home and brought our brother to see it,
and he said most likely it was an Indian's grave, and
that his spirit would come after us for disturbing his
rest; so we ran home and told mama. The next day
papa had it explored, and he found a large box; and
when they opened it they found a gun which was all in
bits, a bow and arrow, and lots of feathers. What do
you think it could mean ? On one of the arrows there
was an inscription and the date 1684.
I must stop now as I am very tired.
Your loving reader, BLossOM G. R-.


MOORHEAD, MINN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking you for
three years, and always ask mama or papa when the
twenty-fifth of the month is coming, for that is the day
you are published.
We have skating here on the Red River of the North.
On our bank of the river the boys make a fire every
day.
While down skating to-day I caught a large goose.
The goose, when last I saw it, was in a barrel with a
box over it.
We live in a medium-sized house. The house was
the second plastered in town.
My father is the secretary of the Old Settlers Associa-
tion of the Red River valley.


While down at Detroit Lake this summer with some
friends, I drove over to White Earth Reservation, which
is twenty-one miles from Detroit. There I shook hands
with White Cloud, son of the late chief of the Chippewa
tribe of Indians.
We have for pets a dog eleven years old, and a fox
which is nearly two years old.
The dog is known to a great many people in this
town. One day, while papa was at a house, Bob (for
that is the dog's name) followed him up there. Papa
went down to the store, but Bob stayed. Nobody could
put him out. So the lady at whose house he was took
him up and put his ear to the telephone; then papa whis-
tled. In a minute he was on the floor and at the door.
When let out he went down to the store.
Bob has a short tail, so his name suits him exactly.
The fox we caught out on the prairie. His favorite
dish is ice cream. He is now fat and "pretty as a pic-
ture," so papa says. Pretty near everybody around here
knows him. I remain your sincere friend and reader,
HENRY C. M-


PARK LANE, LONDON, W.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken ST. NICHOLAS
for four years, and enjoy it very much. I wrote a
short poem about our little brother who is two and a
half years old, and, if you have room, would you mind
printing it?
I am your faithful reader, ELEANOUR N--.
AGED TWELVE.

BED-TIME.

THE sun is sinking in the west,
The stars shine overhead,
And Baby Boy has gone to rest
In his tiny, soft, white bed.
A smile is on his rosy face,
His brown eyes are shut tight,
His dimpled hands lie full of grace
Upon the sheet so white.
Sleep, darling, sleep, till morn doth break;
Dream happy dreams the while;
God sends the pretty dreams that make
The little children smile.

TREBIZOND, TURKEY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The January number of the
ST. NICHOLAS arrived here on Saturday, and though my
manuscript did not get a prize, I thank you for mention-
ing my effort to get one. We have been having some
exciting experiences here during the last three months.
The October number of THE ST. NICHOLAS came on
October 5, and I wrote out "Marion's Adventures on
October 8. Just as I finished it, the massacre began,
and about 500 persons were killed that day. The Rus-
sian and Austrian steamers were in the harbor that morn-
ing, one of which was to go that day, carrying my manu-
script. But the Austrian and Russian consuls detained
T2






613


THE LETTER-BOX.


them here a week in order that foreigners might take
refuge on them. At the end of a week a Russian gun-
boat arrived here, and the steamers went their way.
For that reason my letter was made a week late. Our
house is filled with Armenians every day who come for
relief. We are helping about 5000 people every week.
Your constant reader, J.. P-- .

BIARRITZ, BASSES-PYRENEES, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Iwant to tell you about an ex-
cursion we made yesterday. We went over in a break
to St. Jean de Luz, a little seaside place not far from here.
We were a party of ten, including a dog, and had great
fun. The drive is about an hour long, and as we started
at half-past six we got there at half-past seven. We went
to visit the town before dinner. It is a very pretty little
place, a big, curving beach and esplanade going all along
the back of it. At one end the town is on a much lower
level than the sea, and only the esplanade keeps the water
out at high tide. It seems there have often been inunda-
tions there. From the esplanade we went down into the
town to see the church and Place Louis XIV. The last
is very pretty, being covered with big trees. There is a
large casino near the hotel and it seemed very gay, but
we did not go in. Altogether we had a very successful
expedition. Biarritz is, however, a nicer place, being right
on the ocean, and, in consequence, more airy. There is
a great deal of bicycling and bathing here and we all go
in for it. There are three or four beaches, but the best
for swimming is the Port Vieux, as it is shut in more or
less in a small bay, and the water is smoother and is
safer. The other beaches are more for surf-bathing. It is
a very gay little town, and as there are several seasons the
place is nearly always full. Just now it is the Spanish
season. There used to be bull-fighting at Bayonne (the
nearest town to this), but they stopped it the other day
all of a sudden, after talking a great deal about it, and
seized Mazzantini, the chief espada, in his room at the
hotel, the morning the bull-fight was to take place. It
caused great excitement among the Spanish people. Maz-
zantini was banished from France. It seems silly not to
have stopped it sooner. I have written to you before
and had my letter printed, so I hope to be successful once
more. I enjoy your magazine very much and look for-
ward to the first of each month. I thought Chris and
the Wonderful Lamp a very amusing story.
Ever your devoted reader, J. B--

PLAQUEMINE, LA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My home is in a quaint,
French-like old town on the banks of The Father of
Waters," to which our family fled, a few years ago, from
the blizzards of Illinois.
Plaquemine (pronounced "Plak'meen "), is, however,
not a French but an Indian name, meaning persimmon,
and I have been told that no one knows the age of the
town, that it was quite an important Indian village when
the earliest French settlers came from Acadia.
The windows of my home look out upon the golden
stream of the broad and swift Mississippi," and we can
see the great steamers plying their course upon its sunny
waters; and only a stone's throw away is the historic
Bayou Plaquemine immortalized by our dear Longfel-
low. All lovers of "Evangeline will understand the
reference. It was right at this place that
They, too, swerved from their course, and, entering the Bayou of
Plaquemine,
Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters,
Which, like a net-work of steel, extended in every direction.
Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the cypress
Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air
Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient cathedrals.
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water,
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water,


Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the arches,
Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinksin a ruin.
Dreamlike, and indistinct and strange were all things around them.

These lines give a true description of the bayou scenery,
which is weirdly beautiful, and I think it so wonderful
that the poet could picture it so vividly though he had
never seen it.
Our favorite picnic grounds are seven miles down the
bayou, where the stream is like a broad, limpid river,
under picturesque, moss-draped boughs, and where fish-
ing and boating are very fine.
If it were not for making my letter too, long I might
cite many incidents of the Civil War. The plantation
homes and dense cypress swamps about here were re-
sorts for refugees when the Federal gunboats came up
the river. My Sunday-school teacher tells how large
parties thronged to her grandfather's plantation, and her
grandmother would place mattresses all over the floors
of the great house.
The children climbed on the roof to watch Farragut's
gunboats pass, sometimes wishing the fleet would shell
the town, "just for the excitement of it," and felt quite
disappointed when the boats passed serenely by, like
emblems of peace instead of monsters of war.
The town, however, did occasionally get a taste of shot
and shell. At one old mansion where I visit, the places,
now mended with plaster, can be plainly seen where a
shell went entirely through the house.
CLAIRE M. M-

NEW ROCHELLE.
MY DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eight
years old, and I guess I enjoy you more than most little
girls because my back has always been lame and I have
to stay in bed most of the time. My mama gives you to
me every Christmas nicely bound, and I read you every
day till the next Christmas, when I get a new number of
you. I have four little kittens, two marked like tigers,
and two plain gray; the tigers are "Toots and "Boots,"
and the others are "Jack and "Jill." I hope you will
print my letter, as it has taken me a good while to write;
the kits hope you will print it, too. Good-by. From
your best friend, HESTER C. M- .

FONTAINEBLEAU, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American girl,
and am traveling abroad for a year. I like The Land
of Pluck the best of all, so I will tell you about it. I
went first to Amsterdam, named after Amster, a river,
while "dam" means "dike." Holland is mostly dikes,
you must know, and along the dikes, and everywhere else
except in cities, are many, many windmills. Indeed, in
Laandam, a little place near Amsterdam, there are said
to be four hundred windmills.
In Broek the streets are all made of little red bricks,
very pretty and very clean. We went into a farm-house
there, and I had a glass of the sweetest milk. After I
had the milk we went into the barn. The barn was un-
der the same roof as the house. It was long and nar-
row, and had a pretty carpet on the floor. By the cows'
stalls, which were on one side, ran a wide iron trough;
in this they kept the water for the cows. The stall
floors were covered with sawdust, made in pretty pat-
terns, and they had a ring in the wall to tie their tails up
on, so as not to get them dirty. It was the oddest and
cleanest place I ever saw.
Then we went to Marken. This is the first year they
have had a minister or doctor at Marken. There are
only two trees on the island. The boys are dressed the
same as the girls until they are seven years old, except a
little patch on the back of their funny caps and silver
buttons at their throats. The silver or gold buttons are







THE LETTER-BOX.


the first present the boys get. Theyare all to be fisher-
men some day, and if they were drowned and their bodies
were washed up by the great Zuyder Zee, the buttons
would pay their funeral bills.
The costume of Marken is odd and pretty. I went
into two houses, and will tell you about one-of them. It
was the largest on the island, but had only three rooms.
One was the parlor. On the walls were beautiful old
delft plates, all inherited from the man's grandfather.
The man had three or four cabinets of dark carved wood,
which were very beautiful. The beds they sleep in are
built up in the wall, like boxes, and on top is a sort of
manger for the babies.
Amsterdam is the largest city in Holland, and the cap-
ital, but is not so large as Boston. Once a year the lit-
tle Queen of Holland comes to Amsterdam and stays a
week. She has the most beautiful of palaces there, built
in the fifteenth century; it was a town hall at first.
Then there are such magnificent picture-galleries. Rem-
brandt, I think, is the greatest picture-painter there ever
was; and Vandyke was also very fine.
At The Hague they wear the prettiest costumes- that
is, the women do. Over their hair they wear a large,
brass, close-fitting bonnet, which is round and plain, ex-
cept two funny little bobs on the temples. Over the
brass is lace closely fitted on. Under the little bobs is
long, full lace, which also goes around the back of the
head, only not so full.
Long live ST. NICHOLAS !
Your little ten-year-old American (not Dutch) friend,
FRANCES P. W-

OKLAHOMA CITY, O. T.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I lived in Washington, D. C.,
three years and have been to all the important public
buildings in that beautiful city.
I went to the Post Office Department with papa. Mr.
Wanamaker was postmaster general when Mr. Harri-
son was president. He gave me a little book and
pencil.
Papa took me to one of President Harrison's recep-
tions; as I passed him by he took me up in his arms
and kissed me. While we lived there we were but a
block from the Corean Legation; the minister would talk
to me; they looked something like the Japanese; the
minister's wife was a shy, black-eyed woman.
I saw in a number of ST. NICHOLAS a letter about
Washington's home on the Potomac River.
This plantation was given to him by his brother
Lawrence, and he lived there many years in happiness;
the house is two and one half stories high.
I have some acorns from his grave. There is an old
man that watches the vault and make souvenirs out of
peach-stones and acorns.
I hope to see this letter published in the magazine.
Very truly yours, GRACE G--

HERE is a bright boy's description of his way of mak-
ing shinneys. He says "they are splendid, and will
stand anything."
"I get sticks," he writes, "as nearly straight as pos-
sible, and bend them at home. I have a board made
like this:


- There are two wooden pins at one end, at I and 2,
around which the stick is bent; and at the'other ena
are two rows of holes into which a pin, No. 3, can be
put to hold the handle end in place.


3
-


77
BOARD OCR e A sscAv Sw/NmVEy
"When the sticks (they should be as green as possi-
ble) are in place on the board, I put the whole thing in
the back of the furnace, where the stick will bake. In
about two days the sap is dried out, and the stick will
keep its curve.
Then I take a belt-lace a leather string about half
an inch wide, and one sixteenth of an inchthick-and
bind it on the short end. If the stick is split, I bind it
with brass wire, putting the leather binding over the
wire.

CLEVELAND, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking your maga-
zine for two years now, and I like it very much. On
the first of June I am going out to Pasadena, California,
and when I come back I will tell you all about it.
I read that story about the Astonished Snow-man,"
and I want to tell you that our house is right at the foot
of that railway. I have been up on it already, and it is
great fun, though it is a little scarey.
I am your reader, GARDNER A. M-- .


OAKLAND, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are twin sisters, and are ten
years old. We came from South America three years
ago, and brought with us our pet parrot "Cora." She
has a beautiful tail, three feet long. It has four differ-
ent colors in it. She is always talking, from morning
till night. We have a flower-house made of glass, in
which she lives. We put her here because it is among
flowers and plants.
We like Oakland very much. The fruit-trees -and
flowers are all in blossom now. We are your loving
readers, CARMELITA AND JUANITA D--.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received: Helena S. Dougherty, Eliza-
beth Campbell, Beneta Conlin, Louise K. Cowdrey, Ada
Smith and Mary Fleming, Edna S. and Urania B., Bob
Winsor, Ethel McG. Monypeny, Charley B. Cargile, A.
Grace Bryant, Bessie Randall, Genevieve J., Carl B. P.,
Mary Boothroyd, Mary Louise Ely, Louise Ely Garford,
K. Kent Hewitt, Robin Myers, James Albert Ayres,
Harold M. Bulloway, Celia A. Nicholas, Caroline E. W.
Baldwin, Greta S., Gilbert Rosenberg and Sadie Roth-
schild, Samuel P. B. Tagart, Amber Reeves, Winifred
Emily Napier, Earl Hart and Marietta Varallo S., E. C.
A. and M. Rose.



















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.


WORD-SQUARES. I. Joke. 2. Over. 3. Kegs. 4. Erst. II.
i. Earl. 2. Area. 3. Read. 4. Lady.
RIDDLE. Quilt.
ZIGZAG. Frederick the Great. Cross-words: i. Flood. 2. Brown.
3. Cream. 4. Cards. 5. Brace. 6. Carry. 7. Slice. 8. Acorn.
9. Knoll. to. Stale. tx. Ashes. 12. Babel. 13. Icing. 14. Hurry.
15. Sleek. 16. Japan. 17. Topic.
SEVEN NUTS. I. Chestnut. 2. Cocoanut. 8. Butternut. 4.
Beechnut. 5. Walnut. 6. Peanut. 7. Doughnut.
SHAKSPERIAN CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Desdemona. i. Perdita.
. Ophelia. 3. Cassius. 4. Macduff 5. Goneril. 6. Romeo. 7.
Antonio. 8. Leontes. 9. Titania.


DIAGONAL. "City of Elms." Catechisms. 2. Bituminous.
3. Mitigating. 4. Labyrinths. 5. Introduces. 6. Disaffects. 7.
Disappears. 8. Incurables. 9. Hippodrome. Io. Presidents.
CONNECTED DIAMONDS. I. I. G. 2. Era. 3. Grace. 4. Ace.
5. E. II. i. P. 2. Pea. 3. Peace. 4. Act. 5. E. III. I. E.
2. And. 3. Endow. D. Doe 5. W. IV. W. Hat. 3.
Wagon. 4. Ton. 5. N. V. i. W. 2. Cat. 3. Wanes. 4.
Ten. 5. S.
ANAGRAM. Rose, sore, Eros, 'orse, ores, roes.
ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Tyndall. i. Turkey. 2.
Yak. 3. Narwhal. 4. Dragon-fly. 5. Alligator. 6. Lion. 7.
Leopard.
TRANSPOSITIONS. Males, Salem, lames, meals.


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 FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 5th, from M. McG.-Paul Reese-
Josephine Sherwood G. B. Dyer- W. L.- Helen C. McCleary Greta Simpson L. O. E.- Clive Mabel and Henri-Jo and I-
Effie K. Talboys- Two Little Brothers--" Three Brownies"- W. L. and H. A.--Addison Neil Clark--" Cincinnati Duet" "Jer-
sey Quartette Katharine S. Doty Donald Small Edgewater Two "- Sigourney Fay Nininger- Clara A. Anthony Paul Row-
ley Merry and Co." Nessie and Freddie.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February i5th, from Mary K. Rake, 2- Constance Knowles,
i Marauder, x -Minna T. Jones, I Pauline, i Chas. V. Briggs, i Midget, i Merrick Estabrook, I -" Vir Sapiens," 3- Edith
Nesmith, i Bonnie Lesley F., i We Three," 2 Milton P. Vore, I Allan P. Bender, 2- H. D. W. and E. B., 3- Elizabeth
Masten, I Belinda and Charly, Sanford Etherington, i- Daniel Hardin, Jr., 3 "Puzzler," 4--M. Margaret Rogers, i -
Paul Paeschke, I Charles P. Tuttle, 2-Jessie Buchanan, 5 -C. W. Adams, 7-- Stirling Schroder, 2 Owen Thomas, i No
name, N. Y. city, I- Eugene T. Walter, 5- Nettie May Lovell, 4- F. Bradley Reynolds, x- J. O'Donohoe Rennie, i Ralph W.
Kiefer, --"Buss Fuss," I G. A. Hallock, 3-Edward C. Brown, 2-Lucy and Eddie H., 4-Walter C. Neely, i -Dorothy Fair-
ford, i Ethel R. Miller, I Great Grannies," 6- Marian J. Homans, 4- Emma Garrison, i Henry Denison Fish, 5 -" Juvenis,"
9-No name, Ellis av., Chicago, i Ethelberta, 6- Caroline Seals, I Earl and Susie Grantham, 2 Frances D. Radford, i- "Prin-
cess Bessie," 2 Bertha Andrews, 6 "Daughter Dorothy," 2 Maysie L., i Frederica Yeager, 4 Robin Myers, I Sand Crabs,"
8 Marguerite Sturdy, 7 Papa, Mamma, and Jack, 8 Lulu C. Shearman, I Helen Louise Brainerd, 5 E. F. and E. W., 3- Pchni,
z Kilkenny Cats," 5 Trumpet," 7 Franklyn Farnsworth, 8 Charles Travis, 7 The Butterflies," 7 Alma L. Knapp, i -
No name, Towanda, 5 Embla," 9 Olive C. Lupton, 9 Laura M. Zinser, 6- M. J. Philbin, 3- E. C. C. E., 9 Norman Blake,
S- Charles Carroll, 8 G. C. Bonbright, Jr., 2.


QUADRUPLE SQUARES.
I ... 2 3


4 5 6





I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. To have a circu-
lar motion. 2. A fresh-water bivalve. 3. A disturbance
of the public peace by disorderly persons. 4. To mark.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. Sound. 2. A
Hebrew measure. 3. A mountain mentioned in the
Bible. 4. The god of love.
III. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. Drift. 2.
Above. 3. A wicked Roman emperor. 4. Cupid.
IV. LOWER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. To rend. 2.
An old Scandinavian book. 3. An entrance to a mine.
4. Standard.
From I to 3 and from I to 7, a bird; from 3 to 9 and
from 7 to 9, without a beak ; from 2 to 8 and from 4 to
6, a dull fellow. JESSIE THOMAS.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below
another, in the order here given, the central letters will
name a spring holiday.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A son of Venus. 2. A mountain
nymph. 3. The god of mockery and censure. 4. The


weight of twelve grains. 5. Household deities. 6. A
famous mythological hunter. 7. One of the Muses. 8.
The old Italian deity who protected shepherds and flocks.
9. The abode of the shades. o1. The goddess who pre-
sided over hunting. Ii. A wood nymph.
"CHARLES BEAUFORT."

DIAMOND.

I. In bayonet. 2. Furious. 3. A kind of joint. 4.
In baseball, the pitcher and catcher together. 5. Dis-
mal. 6. To do wrong. 7. In bayonet.
CHAS. D. REID.
CHARADE.
WHEN warm suns bring my first again,
My second will appear;
But many years have passed by since
My whole sailed over here.
F. G. NELSON.
ZIGZAG.
ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left hand letter, will spell the
name of a famous Yorkshire school.
CROSS-WORDs: I. A play. 2. Layers of any substance
covering another. 3. To go in. 4. Deep respirations.
5. To encounter with courage and fortitude. 6. Sharp
points. 7. A source from which supplies may be drawn.
8. Fastening. 9. Foot-coverings. 10. Sarcastic. II.
An old word for baron. 12. Ability to perceive and per-
form. 13. A kind of type. "JERSEY QUARTETTE."







616


SUBTRACTIONS.

EXAMPLE: Take fifty from a girdle, and le
Answer, Be-l-t, bet. The subtracted letter
in the middle of a word.
I. Subtract fifty from to stop, and leave
apparel.
2. Subtract five hundred from funny, and
of biscuit.
3. Subtract fifty from a jewel, and leave
a fruit.
4. Subtract one from a Scotch lord, and
leave to stuff with bacon.
5. Subtract fifty from a small basin, and
leave a weapon.
6. Subtract one thousand from a servant,
and leave to relieve.
7. Subtract five hundred from a scarcity,
and leave a planet.
8. Subtract one thousand from something
worn by a person who fences, and leave to.
question. ALICE RUNNELLS.

ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
EACH of the five small pictures may be
described by a single word. When these
words have been rightly guessed, and
placed one below another, in the order in
which they are numbered, the central let-
ters will spell the surname of the author of
a very famous book.

NOVEL ACROSTIC.







THE letters represented by stars spell
the surname ofa president of the United
States.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Topurchaseback. 2.
System. 3. Odors. 4. Domineered. 5.
Propelling a boat by means of oars. 6.
Finishing.
WINTHROP DAVENPORT FOSTER.

PI.
COEM ot eht sodow, o grips !
Chout het ragy sinceel, miste eht wrestin
mogol,
Lilt eht mid aselis wrog gritbh twih dunsed
moblo
Dan het rafi chears grin.

Orve het wamdose spas,
Glifginn hte thalew fo yam sbud, anylift twes
Ni ningish landrags dorun het chirlend's fete
Daim eht grispning sargs.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISCOVERII

EXAMPLE: Find a city of Italy in a hero
ogy. P-rome-theus.
I. Find a city of France in the decorative
a horse.
2. Find a large West India island in to br
3. Find an island of the Mediterranean ir


THE RIDDLE-BOX.

4. Find a famous city of ancient times in that which
ruins.
ave a wager. 5. Find an island belonging to England in an urgent
is not always claim.
6. Find an island near Scotland in an earnest appeal.
an article of 7. Find an Asiatic empire in a treacherous scheme.
8. Find a long chain of mountains in secret.
leave a kind 9 Find a long chain of mountains in consisting of
more than one.
10. Find a South American city in the
highest point.
II. Find a South American city in cer-
tain insects. PLEASANT E. TODD.

NUMERICAL ACROSTIC.



3 9
4 io
5 II
6. 12 18
13 19
14 20
15 21
16 22

FROM I to 7, a pattern; from 2 to 8, a
tropical fruit; from 3 to 9, farewell; from
4 to Io, an island; from 5 to 11, a metal;
from 6 to 12, a goddess; from 12 to 18, a
range of mountains; from 13 to 19, a fa-
mous plant; from 14 to 20, a wading bird;
from 15 to 21, tawny green; from 16 to
22, to educate; from 17 to 23, a fish.
From 7 to 12, the Christian name, and
from 12 to 17, the surname, of a famous
writer. MARY D. KITTREDGE.

AN OBLIQUE RECTANGLE.

















e, i. In Detroit. 2. A meadow. 3. Traffics. 4.
e Plants which grow in warm countries. 5. A portable
chair. 6. A kind of shoe worn by peasants. 7. A
wanderer. 8. Implied, but not expressed. 9. Coins.
S. i10. Animals harnessed to vehicles. Ii. Little. 12.
Hail or snow, mingled with rain. 13. To permit. 14.
of mythol- In Detroit. HELEN MURPHY.
HOUR-GLASS.
harness of MY centrals, reading downward, name a famous poet.
CRoss-WORDS: I. One who lived at an earlier
ood. period. 2. A seaman. 3. A letter from Denmark. 4.
concealed. Consumed. 5. An idle fancy. MARY H. COLLACOTT.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.




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

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